Fantasy Winds of Nordenfall

[Kyte]

Winds of Nordenfall​

Pale and haunting like a lonely specter, the Nordenfall Moon presided over the waterfront of Port Ivaness. Ships of various functions bobbed on their moorings while frigid gales casted windswept ice sculptures upon docks fronting the black waters of the Nordenfall sea. Fishermen unloaded the last of their day's catches as the noise and bustle of business slowly faded into cold silence. Bedraggled local taverns were packed to the doors with drunken seafarers, freebooters, and buccaneers celebrating the end of another successful day.

Among the merriment of one of these taverns sat a lone boy near the back where it was relatively peaceful and free from trampling feet. Zephyr Greyfang was weary from his latest journey from Blackwood City in the mountains, where he had accepted the job offer of delivering a letter to a noble estate nestled just south of Port Ivaness. Though Zephyr was only at the young age of 23, he had traveled much of southern Nordenfall and was an accomplished outdoorsman. He did not have a set place to call home or a family to share it with. He was the very definition of a street rat…and he reveled in every moment of it. Zephyr had been watching the teeming life for fully an hour, rather taken aback by the sudden surge of noisy humanity... he flicked a ripe apple into the air and caught it, then crunched a healthy chunk out of the most appetizing side. The light from the tavern’s fire illuminated Zephyr's brunette hair and accented his smile as he chewed happily on the apple.

”Aaaah” he exhaled. “This little town never loses its charm!” His stomach suddenly began growling in protest of the lack of carbohydrates he had consumed for the day. He examined the opposite side of the apple and bit another chunk out of it, then dug into his back pocket and produced a tattered and stained coin purse. He turned it over and counted the coins that he had earned from his delivery contract, then looked over to the tavern’s order menu. “Well…I guess splurging from time to time never killed any one.” Kneeling down, Zephyr grabbed the scabbard housing his weapon of choice and most valued possession, an unassuming lance, and tightened the strap onto his back.
He weaved his way through the assortment of grizzled, gap-toothed sailors as he approached the front counter. It was a busy evening for the tavern. He tapped on the oak countertop in an attempt to get the bartenders attention. “A glass of Cabernet, a lamb chop, and a slice of bread please!” The bartender turned to acknowledge his new customer and curtly said. “Aye, that’ll be 16 coins Sir.” while uncorking a fresh bottle of wine.

As Zephyr sat down and began to dig into his lamb chop, he noticed a large gathering of people in the center of the establishment. The crews of two rival mercenary vessels were watching their captains gamble. Daz Oakenfist, the Nord master of the “Pearl of Mars”, was winning and Theron Draxton, the Illithian Master of the “Queen of Lutra”, was losing heavily. Daz’s sword, a fine blade of Toledo steel, lay on the table. Behind it was an ever-growing pile of coin. The Nord captain played Idly with his long black beard, smiling thinly as he watched Theron. “Make your choice little guy, where is the pea?”
Theron flicked a hate laden glance at him and growled “Don't hurry me Daz!”

Sighing heavily, Theron looked down at the dwindling pile of coins, which were stacked behind his cutlass, then bit his lip and concentrated his gaze on the three walnut shells resting on the table in front of Daz. The Nord drummed his fingers on the table top. “I'm not hurrying you my brother, shall I take a nap while you try to find our little friend the pea?” The Pearl’s crew chuckled mockingly at the Lutra's Captain. The more gold Theron lost, the slower and more deliberate he became. The Illithian captain spoke without looking up from the three nutshells. “Huh, the little pea might be your friend but she ain't no friend of mine, not after losing 10 times in a row now…” Daz twirled his mustache, enjoying his opponent's discomfort. “Who knows, the little pea might change her mind and fall in love with you, my brother!” Theron made a snap decision as he turned up the shell that lay in the center of the table. It was empty, no pea lay underneath it. A cheer went up from the Pearl’s crew and groans from the men of the Lutra's.” Theron separated 10 coins from his meager pile, swatting them towards the Nord with the back of his hand.

Zephyr had never seen the Nord before. The Illithian was a different matter however and his face lit up when he recognized him. Ol Theron was an honorable man, for a mercenary anyway. He was an old business parter of his father and his family had been in contact with Theron and his crew for as long as he could remember. The last time Zephyr had seen the crew of the Lutra was more than a year ago, though at that time Theron was still only the assistant navigator. He was curious when his friend had been promoted to captain and with all his heart wanted to yell across the tavern to catch his attention. That Nord, however, was suspiciously lucky in their bout of gambling and he decided to wait a moment and watch them for another round before making himself known.

Daz Oakenfist carved a flank of steak with his own sword and tore into it while fastidiously wiping his wine stained lips on a silk kerchief. “So then little guy, do you wish to continue playing? Maybe little miss pea will come your way this time.”
Daz placed the pea upon the table and covered it with the center of the three downturned walnut shells. Zephyr watched critically from behind as the Nord's fingers began dancing on the shells, moving them right to left, left to right, center to side, side to center, then he saw the trick. The shells were moving so fast that he almost missed it. Daz shifted the shells so skillfully, at one point the shells with the pea beneath it went slightly over the lip of the table and the pea was flipped out onto his lap, nearly faster than the hawk eyed boy could follow. Now all he had to do was drop his hand and jam the pea between his fingers while Theron was deciding which shell to choose. Whichever shell Theron would pick, there would be nothing beneath it. The Nord would then probably drop the pea into another shell as he overturned them all to reveal its ‘true’ location and he would win again. Daz leaned back into his chair with the same thin smile on his lips as he announced confidently, “make your play!”
The Queen of Lutra's captain studied the shells once again and was about to make a decision when…

“THERON!!!!”

The startled Mercenary hardly had enough time to glance upwards before he was promptly torpedo tackled out of his chair.
Theron found himself sprawled on the ground and looking up at the ear to ear toothy grin of Zephyr, with at least a dozen cutlasses and daggers drawn behind the boy. The stunned captain raised is right hand and waived his crew to sheathe their weapons.

“Ung…The hell? Zephyr?”

“Si, Capitano! It’s been forever! When the hell did you make captain eh?”

“Uh…just recently, bit of a long story...You aren't planning on making a habit of greeting me like this, are you?”

“Si, Capitano!”

“Boy, don’t you even start…let me up!”

Theron attempted to rise up, but Zephyr pushed his shoulders back onto the ground.
"Sure, no problem, but listen to what I have to say first…"

Zephyr placed his lips close to Theron’s ear and quickly explained the trickery that Daz was pulling on him. Theron was silent as he contimplated for a brief moment before whispering back into Zephyr's ear.
“Gotcha, Sure thing!” Zephyr exclaimed.

He then nodded at his navigator, a stout woman who seemed to catch on.
“Excuse me! Are you two going to get a room or just screw right there on the tavern floor?” The Nord was becoming impatient. Zephyr stood up and offered Theron his hand, which he promptly accepted. After being pulled up, he brushed off his black coat and tucked his blond hair behind his ears.
“Nah you’ve got it wrong buddy, He is almost like a little brother of mine.”

“I thought you Illithians didn’t mind screwing family.”

“Is that similar to the rumor that Nord's enjoy the company of goats?”

“Smart mouth for a little guy with so many coins in deficit,” Daz laughed, “How much you wanna bet this time? The pea can’t hold my favor forever my brother!”

As the two captains traded lighthearted insults, Zephyr and Theron’s navigator slowly made their way to the opposite end of the table.
Theron sat down and learned forward, placing his hands in his lap. “That is a lot of gold you have on your side of the table… how much do you reckon you've got there my friend?” Daz Shrugged “Who knows, it would take quite a time to count it all up, so are you going to play?" Theron smiled. “Yes I’ll play, but you know, there's more gold aboard my ship…lets stop messing around with small wagers. I'm going to bet all I've got against what lies on the table. One chance, winner-takes-all!” Daz Oakfist could not resist the invitation. "You are a real gambler my brother! I accept your wager!" He looked up to his crew for approval, immediately sensing all was not well as he saw the stout female navigator and young Zephyr a few feet from either of his flanks. Theron smiled roguishly at his adversary.

“Do it.”

In a flash of steel, the navigator's scimitar and Zephyr's Lance pressed against the flesh of the Nord's neck. “Nobody Move!” Barked Theron. “there are two weapons drawn at your captain’s neck. I'm betting there's no pea under any of those three shells! Mister Greyfang, turn the shells over would you?” Zephyr sported a wolfish grin as his free hand swiftly flipped all three shells. There was of course no pea. Sweat ran in rivets down the Nord's large face and the entire tavern had grown silent. All that could be heard was the sizzle of beef dripping and spilling onto the cooking fire. There was death in Theron’s voice.
“Sit still Daz, you don't want to get that pea lying in your lap covered with blood do you? Crew of the Mars, stay still and he won't come to any harm! The game is over, I win."

 

[HaleyGrissel]

Cool air bit at the skin of the young Knight's exposed skin. The intense moon was hidden behind the towering palace he emerged from, followed by the familiar screeching sound of rusted metal as the gates promptly closed behind him. Already, distant chattering and yelling filled Amalric's ears as he filled his lung with fresh, night air, contrasting the stuffy castle atmosphere. "Are you just going to stand there or join me for a drink." A voice spoke, invading his thoughts.

Amalric offered his friend Ulric a cocked eyebrow. Ulric was an opposite to him. His towering figure was built, his strong stature visible through even the baggiest of clothing. He was a goofy man, never taking himself or his duties too seriously. Amalric wasn't sure what initially drew him to Ulric, but their clashing personalities presented a healthy balance of seriousness and recklessness. They had soon become close friends following their initial meeting. Amalric considered him his brother and only hoped the feeling was mutual. "Ulric, you and I are both well aware that I-"

Ulric didn't allow the sentence to continue, his bubbly personality overpowering Amalric's contrasting mild one. "The only thing I'm aware off," He continued, putting a sarcastic emphasis on 'aware', "is that you're uptight and need a drink. Come on Amalric, one night won't tarnish your honor."

Amalric's late patrols were like clock work. A scuffle over whatever product was left remaining on the merchant's tables, a particularly antsy thief who intended to use the distraction as an opportunity to snatch at leftovers with uncaring vigor, or, if he was lucky, a drunk brawl between the grimy, exhausted sailors who decided to gamble away the days earnings. Although he was never one to abandon his duty, he couldn't deny a soft spot for Ulric. He was an absolute fool, but always had good intentions. A long pause proceeded his response. "Alright. But just one." Ulric gave him a light punch to the shoulder as a sign of celebration and began their walk through the town streets. Women swatted their protesting children inside the glowing homes that lines the streets. Husbands greeted families at the door, tired from the long days work. Laughter echoed through the windows as friends and families released stresses and anxieties of the afternoon. It was as any other night in the quaint town.

Amalric had since shed his armor and in place was a fresh tunic and pants, completed with black leather boots. It was premature to do so, but his night encounters never called for a man in full metal. As the two men approached the bustling center, their senses were overwhelmed with activity. Drunken chatter roared from open tavern doors, accompanied by the clinking and occasional shatter of glass steins. The damp, ocean air blew noisily through the empty streets, long since abandoned for the warm atmosphere of fire lit homes and bars. "Alright, you dalcop. This was your idea, so I can only assume you have a fine tavern in mind." Amalric questioned his friend who was currently stopped observing a particularly beautiful women stepping into the night. "Did we come here to lust after every fair flower you lay your eyes on? Or did we come to drink." He jabbed.

Ulric looked down at the man with a flustered irritation spreading across his face. "Nay, but can you judge me for doing so?" He replied, strolling to the loudest tavern before Amalric could utter a reply.

They stepped into the main room of the tavern, relieved when the heat radiating off the fire washed over them. He took quick notice of his surroundings, his attention peeking at what seemed to be a heated and one sided gambling match. "The poor sack. He doesn't stand a chance." Ulric snickered childishly in reply and took two open seats at the bar.

"Two of your strongest ale! I have quite the stringent one here." Ulric joked with the bartender. He seemed to be on good terms with him, which didn't surprise Amalric in the slightest. Ulric dug out a hefty amount of coins from his back and dropped them on the table, followed by two steins. Amalric was no drinker. Nonetheless, he raised the stein to his lips and sipped, ignoring the sickly sweet flavor assaulting his taste buds.

"This is near offensive." He huffed, staring at the liquid in his stein begrudgingly.

"Your taste buds are just as insipid as you!" He had downed near half of his drink before Amalric had taken a second sip. This was going to be a interesting night. One man taking care of a drunk bastard who can't hold his alcohol. He forced more of the drink down, hoping the drunker he got, the better it would taste. As the two men drank, Amalric tried to ignore the bickering from the gamblers just a few feet away. More tipsy sailors that can't handle losing the money they bet. It was irritating. Gambling never interested Amalric. He didn't see the point in losing a days work within a few seconds, but to each their own.

"Nobody Move!" A strong voice roared, immediately gaining the attention on the off duty guard. He saw the scene play ahead of him. Two men had blades pressed dangerously close to the winners neck, his crew already in an offensive stance. Amalric promptly stood up and reached his hand to his blade before a calloused hand pressed against his shoulders.

"Hold a minute. Let's see these fools fight it out." Ulric said, a drunken glaze already settling over his eyes.

"Has the ale gone straight to your head? I'd rather not have blood spilled on the floor." Amalric sneered. Amalric was no conversationalist. However, the group of men were clearly riding the excitement of alcohol and gambling. Stomping towards them with a welcome drawn would only end in disaster. Amalric stepped closer to the group and relaxed his stature to not give off the wrong idea to the angry folk. "Come on now. We're all men here. Is drawing blood in such a place appropriate? I suggest sheathing your weapons." The last statement dripped with a demanding tone, something that Amalric's strong personality could never convincingly camouflage. It got the man into trouble, and it may have just earned him another strike.

 

[Kyte]

Daz’s lips scarcely mood as he sneered at Theron. “You will not get away with this little man” Theron stood with his cutlass still pointed at the Nord. “Oh yes I will my friend. I suggest you and your crew haul yourselves and whatever is left of your pride out of this tavern. Spilling your blood would be bad for my business...and yours."
Zephyr cocked his head towards the crew of the Mars then spoke softly. "Tell your boys to back off and head outside. Once everyone is out, We will allow you to follow." Daz was about to mumble a responce but was cut short as another voice invaded the silence.

"Come on now. We're all men here. Is drawing blood in such a place appropriate? I suggest sheathing your weapons."

Zephyr raised his eyebrow at the approaching figure. A rather short fellow with steely eyes and a relaxed yet confident stance.

Theron glanced over to the newcomer and chuckled. "Ah, hello there sir. I'm surprised one of you civilians has a backbone! Believe me, I would like nothing more than to abide by that suggestion, though you see, this sly gentleman here felt the need to swindle and cheat me out of my coin."
Theron motioned the cutlass towards the empty walnut shells on the table.

"So, once his boys take to their dishonest heals outta this tavern, Ill do just that. Though with two of my own crew on their side of the table, our weapons stay out until they leave...Got that Daz?"

 

[HaleyGrissel]

Amalric's eyes shifted to the empty walnut shells resting on the table, an amused smirk forming on his face. Gambling wasn't a test of luck. It was a test of observation. Regardless, he brought his attention back to the tensed men gathered around the table. He briefly considered revealing himself as a royal guard, thrown off by being seen as a brave civilian. Amalric was well known in town, but his blemished reputation was not one to be desired. He scanned over the two holding blades against the gambler's neck, Amalric's eyes catching on the green eyed brunette. Amalric could recognize a street rat, and the fellow was not an exception. Remaining under the veil of townsfolk would, or so he hoped, offer more trust. No one really trusted guards, not even guards themselves. "Well now, a couple of grifters spoiling the fun for everyone." Amalric responds, glancing up at the captain's men. "I suppose you fellows should take your leave. I'm not wrong to assume you want no harm to come to your captain..." Amalric said, his stark expression not matching his calm words of resolution.

"Spoil the game and our night! They ought to be thrown out of this tavern!" Ulric drunkenly mumbled, staying close to sober friend. In his state, he would have offered about as much help as a dainty maiden, but Amalric still appreciated having the rather intimidating man near. Although, he worried Ulric's reckless comments would only worsen the situation.

Amalric ignored his friend's frustrated remarks. "They seem like honest men," He said and gestured towards the cheating gambler, "And that is more than I can say of yourself. Take their advice. Have your mates leave."

 

[Kyte]

Daz was silent for a moment, contemplating his limited options, then forcefully exhaled a sigh of aggravated acceptance.
"Bah, I hope the lot of you trip on yer swords, worthless trash!" He growled. "Do as they say boys, It was about time for us to retire for the night anyway"
The crew of the Mars begrudgingly began to file out of the tavern until all that was left was Daz himself. Theron smirked at the mercenary. "Tell me Daz, was it worth it? You lost a good bit of face this evening buddy...and a bit of gold aint gonna repair your tarnished rep. Allow me to give you some peer to peer advice. In our occupation, a certain level of professionalism is expected. If you act like a thug, expect to be treated as such. High value contracts are always going to allude thugs, swindlers, and cheats. Now get the hell out of here." Zephyr lowered his lance from the Nords neck as did Theron's Navigator. Without another word, Daz stood and briskly walked out into the cold Nordenfall Night.

A round of cheers and applause errupted from Theron's crew and The tavern slowly began returning to normal operation.
"Alright my lads, now that were are done with that bit of drama, how about another round of drinks on the house!"
As Theron's Crew belted out another gleeful cheer, Zephyr approached the gentleman who had stood up for them. "Theron, If its fine with you, how about our friend here joins us for a drink, yeah?" Zephyr winked at Amalric and tossed his coin purse in the air lightly, catching it as it fell. "I'm buying."

 

[HaleyGrissel]

Amalric felt relief flood over him as Daz and his crew left without further fuss. He half listened to the pleased cheer from the crowd before a familiar lance bearing gent approached him. "Theron, If its fine with you, how about our friend here joins us for a drink, yeah?" The brunette winked at Amalric as he smoothly tossed his coin bag "I'm buying." Amalric was slightly taken aback by the coy gesture but stiffly regained his composure. He turned to face the now empty spot his friend was once standing in and saw him stumble across the tavern towards a fair lady sipping on a stein. Amalric hesitated to accept the offer, worried over the intoxicated Ulric flirting drunkenly with the woman and the sweet flavor still present in his mouth was not inviting. But he would rather stay in the new company until his friend was ready to leave than stand around looking like a lost bloke.

"The night's still young..." He smiled, turning his attention back to the taller brunette, "and I don't believe my friend there is leaving anytime soon. I'll take you up on that invitation." Amalric eyed the man called Theron, gauging the man's reaction to his presence. While his younger acquaintance seemed friendly enough, he was tentative to lower his guard around strangers. "I didn't catch your name. I'm Amalric" He said, holding out his hand to the fellow in front of him.

 

[Kyte]

Zephyr smiled as Amalric accepted his invitation and grasped his hand in a firm handshake.
"Pleasure to meet you Amalric! I’m Zephyr."
Theron sighed and smirked. "I swear, you really are your father’s son. Not an ounce of caution around strangers, eh lad?"
Zephyr grinned. "heh, guilty as charged…but you have to admit that he seems better than the company of ol' Daz, yeah?"
Theron shrugged. "Well, I can’t argue with that…I suppose introductions are in order. The name is Theron Draxton, Captain of the Pearl of Lutra, maritime security contractor."

"*Cough*…Mercenary…*Cough*” Zephyr interjected

Rolling his eyes, Theron nodded. “Aye, we are a crew of Mercenaries, if we are to be so blunt.”

“In defense of my friend, he is one of the honorable ones, not at all like the Nord we just kicked out….just as ugly though."

Theron forcefully planted his fist onto the top of Zephyr’s head with a thud.
“And this smart mouthed guttersnipe is the son of a former business partner of mine, who apparently likes mocking a captain in front of his crew. Do you want to see just how dishonorable Draxton the Terrible can be, eh twerp?"

“Si Capitano-MMGFM!”
Theron had seized a glistening turkey leg from the table and promptly forced it into Zephyr’s maw.

“Anyway, thanks for sticking up for us mate. Daz might have tried to pull something stupid if he thought the populace wouldn’t intervene.”

Zephyr chewed off a mouthfull of the turkey leg, then motioned at a pretty waitress for another round of drinks. She waived back in aknowledgement and hurriedly excused herself from the wrapped attention of a tipsy patron, who curiously seemed to look over at Amalric with distain.
“So, tell us about yourself Amalric.” Zephyr asked. “Are you originally from this area?"

 

[HaleyGrissel]

Amalric couldn't help but raise an accusatory brow as the men admitted to bent work. Although he knew they were naive to whom they were talking to, the ale already clouding Amalric's thoughts made the affair rather amusing. He hadn't the chance to offer a reply before Zephyr and Theron were bickering blithely. He offered a smile in response to the thankful captain "No need for thanks, mate. I don't believe anyone in the tavern was hoping for a fight."

Amalric took a seat across the table the gamblers had previously been using and turned towards the women Zephyr had waved to. His focus instead fell on the man who was before holding her attention. The stranger's scornful eyes felt like daggers in Amalric's chest. he searched the man's face for an ounce of recognition, but Amalric wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a crowd. Even so, the look was one shared by many townsfolk who crossed Amalric's presence.

“Are you originally from this area?" A chipper voice said. Amalric tore his attention away from the stranger and looked back to Zephyr, taking a few moments too long collecting his thoughts.

"No," He said with a stark tone before shaking his head sheepishly. "Well not quite. I was raised West of here in Middlesbrough. It's a few days trip. I came here around.." Amalric paused, taking the ale from the smiling waitress with a contented nod. "7 or 8 years ago." Amalric scrunched his face in distaste, partially from the stench of the ale and partially from thinking of the time that he's lost. He took a sip of his drink before continuing, "But what about you men? What brings you here of all places?" He asked, setting his cup down with a thud.

 

[Kyte]

Zephyr drank from his tankard then nodded. "Middlesbrough, Ive heard of it. Actually, I was recently traveling in that general area of Nordenfall. I had some business in Blackwood City and took the southern gate out of Blackwood to arrive here at Port Ivaness. Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I were to have taken the eastern gate out of Blackwood as a detour, that road would have traveled right through Middlesbrough."
Zephyr took another swig before continuing. "I myself am a wandering nomad of sorts...I travel from place to place, picking up odd jobs along the way. As of late my travels have brought me here to Nordenfall...that is, Im a foreigner. I'm originally from Illithium, but I've visited many different countries and countless interesting places."
Zephyr gave Amalric a warm smile as he reached into his pack and produced a well worn leather bound journal. Opening its pages, he then extracted a large map which he carefully unfolded and placed on the table facing Amalric. The map detailed the entire continent and surrounding archipelagos. It was covered with hand written notes on places travelled, Points of interest, Routes, and other scribbles. Zephyr closed the journal and placed it in his lap. Although it was not in view for very long, Amalric saw that the journal was filled to the brim with further notations, local maps, and private entries...strangly thorough for his claim of being a simple wanderer.
"Nordenfall is among the last of the countries i've to travel and ill probably be here for the next few years, or so i'd imagine."

Theron raised a brow. "Heh, damn...you've been to about as many places as I have at this point". Lowering his voice, Theron leaned towards Zephyr as Amalric studied the map. "So...any leads yet? " Zephyr was silent for a moment before solemnly shaking his head. The grizzled captain nodded, then grasped his shoulder and squeezed tenderly. Zephyr touched his hand and gave a reassuring smile, "Hey, I Haven't thrown in the towel yet. I mean, we still have our whole lives ahead of us". Zephyr moved his hand and grasped the lance upon his back, which warmly glistened in the light of the tavern's fire as if reflecting its owner's smile. "Besides, you know me...I like the journey".

Theron chucked "Heh, that I do lad..."

 

[HaleyGrissel]

Amalric scanned the maps diligently for the short time it was free to be viewed. Although he was grateful for the life he built for himself, he couldn't help the growing feeling of jealousy. He had always resented his father's choice of seclusion and independence. The boys hadn't so much been allowed to travel to neighboring cities, and the tiny world that Amalric grew up in made him crave exploration. Yet here he was, and he settled down not a year after escaping the life he hated so much. Zephyr seemed to be living his own dream, exploring every corner of the world. He lifted his drink to his lips, listening to their following somber discussion with interest. Amalric looked up curiously, wanting desperately to question Zephyr on the details of his travels. Despite this, he knew to not press on any sensitive matters.

Before he had the chance to offer consolidation, Amalric was interrupted by a pair of heavy hands slapping onto his shoulders and a familiar drunken voice invaded the atmosphere of the men. "I feel like a father watching his son after his first successful hunt! You're chatting willingly. That's certainly impressive mate." Ulric pulled a chair from a neighboring table, flipping it around to sit with his legs around the backrest. "You're doing better than me! You should have seen this wench Comely, but an absolute drunkard! The lady could barely talk." He let out a bellowing laugh and raised his near-empty keg. "The name's Ulric Thorne, Knight of King Nairo. Who managed to unearth some friendliness from Amalric here?" Ulric flashed a charming smile and glanced at Amalric with a childlike amusement. Amalric looked at him with trepidation. He had no intention of making their titles known to the mercenaries, regardless of their intentions.

Amalric disregarded him swiftly, pulling the drink from Ulric's much larger grasp. "My apologies. My friend Ulric has never held his alcohol well.."

 

[Kyte]

Zephyr's attention was swept away from Theron as a boisterous yet friendly new face greeted the group and sat down beside Amalric.
"I feel like a father watching his son after his first successful hunt! You're chatting willingly. That's certainly impressive mate...The name's Ulric Thorne, Knight of King Nairo."
The crew of the Lutra's merriment was quickly replaced by concerned whispers after they overheard Ulric. While they were certainly not pirates or buccaneers, many contracts they had accepted in the past were of questionable legality. If this man truly was a knight of Nordenfall, could Amalric have simply been questioning them for information and was planning on making an arrest?

Theron too, immediately felt concerned...though if they were here detain him, their demeanor was unusually lax.
Zephyr, Who seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere, was more than happy to greet the newcomer.
"Hoy!" he mumbled through a mouth full of turkey. Zephyr raised his tankard in greetings and reflected Ulric's charming smile.

"My apologies". My friend Ulric has never held his alcohol well." Amalric seemed to be quick to disregard his apparent friend, snatching the drink from his hand.

Theron shifted into a more guarded position in his chair. "Pleasure is all ours mate. Did I hear you mention that you are a knight of King Nairo?" Theron's gaze shifted to Amalric. "Are both of you knights?"

Zephyr once again piped up after he swallowed the food in his mouth. "My name is Zephyr, good to meet ya Ulric! This is Theron, mercin-...ehem...maritime security contractor and captain of the Pearl of -- what the! GIVE IT BACK!."

Theron had snatched Zephyr's own tankard and was mirroring the same trepidatious expression that Amalric seemed to have.

 

[HaleyGrissel]

Amalric recognized the quick shift in demeanor the moment the words left Ulric's mouth. While Zephyr was chatting with Ulric naive to the potential turmoil the man had just caused, Theron's eyes shifted to Amalric's with clear defensiveness in his eyes. "Are both of you knights?"

Amalric stared back on Theron, too busy thinking of the choice words he would be sharing with Ulric after this to react to Zephyrs cry of displeasure as his drink was torn away in a similar fashion. He had no bad intention when he decided to defend the men and his intention hadn't changed. However, he was too sensible to assume the other men had the same idea. Amalric's gaze flicked to Ulrics. The man was clearly catching on to the situation, offering Amalric a hesitant gaze. He put the extra drink down with a smile, aware that lying would bring no good to the situation.

"I'm only a knight when in armor. It would be rather simple of me to walk into a tavern with only... agreeable people. My friend and I came here on our own accord. We never held any ill intentions towards you or your men." Amalric gestured towards Ulric with an amused smile. "And if we're honest, this man can barely walk. I find it hard to believe that I and a drunk would be able to take in the lot of you."

Ulric's face soured at his friend's comment. "And they say knights are charming. He's more of a nag than anything.." Ulric's insult was followed by a blithe smirk, jeering Amalric in a childlike manner.