The Tavern's Song: I
Alekzandr listened to the soft tavern music playing in The Yawning Portal. Spotting various people wandering some lifting drinks in toast others were simply drunken messes. Though many were holding conversations in hushed tones. Ah the city of Splendor held its secrets. He was sat with many other patrons at the bar, parked firmly on a stool with the litter of empty bottles around him Durnan made an honest effort to attend others then just himself.
"No no. I haven't even started." He waved off an old man who was asking him to get up from the bar. The thought that he had even started amused him. He ran his hands down his fire proof coat, brushing off any little imperfections and fluff that he found. His old war uniform was comfy as the tomb he desired, but he refused to let it get too ruffled up. After all it could only be repaired not replaced.
"Nice hat," a patron at the bar had turned to him. Alekzandr flashed him a quick smile, tapping the Ushanka on the top of his head in gratitude, and fixed the blue star back into place. He waved his hand and tilted his empty glass to the bar tender.
"I'll tell you, Durnan! When I saw the fucking thing I nearly pissed myself!" Alekzandr was sure his words were coming a bit slurred through his accent, perhaps it was the vodka? It easily pinned him as a foreigner. Not that foreigners were uncommon in Waterdeep.. Or as if that wasn't already clear with how he dressed. He chuckled trying to continue his story. "Of course, that was before I blasted its head in with Segiri!" Alekzandr let out a large laugh, shrill and wet full of the alcohol he was downing. He reached behind him patting the rifle, running his fingers along the cold steel barrel was... comforting. He grinned madly at the odd looks he got around the bar for the device. Let them be confused, he thought, it just meant more people to speak to. An elven girl walked past Alekzandr holding a tray full of empty glasses and bottles.
Ah.. how the years had been cruel to him, the maiden was a blonde with short hair and swimming blue eyes similar to his own. What a bitter thought, he bit his cheek and took another drink with the new cup placed before him. Alekzandr slid his rifle forward showing it off to anyone who wanted to see it.
"Sounds terrifying." Durnan rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as though he had heard the story a thousand times, which Alekzandr shrugged off. "You uh.. need another one Alekzandr?" Durnan looked down at the astonishingly empty mug he had in front of him.
"Of course mine comrade!" Alekzandr shouted. He touted the glass up and leaned back. Oh these seats don't have back rests-air rushed past his ears and the ceiling spun around above him. "Oh-" *Bonk*
Alekzandr hit the wood floor roughly upper back first, his arms slid around while one woman simply stepped over him. He rolled around in a bit of pain. 'Crap, that was painful.' Alekz felt the judging eyes of onlookers staring at him, bah! Let them stare! He groaned a little but set the glass down in an attempt to stand to his feet. While struggling to his feet and taking a few deep breaths he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bar's metal legs. Damn, he was as handsome as always! The floor creaked to his left.
"Need some help there?" A tanned hand extended its grip to the floor, accompanied by a delightfully unknown voice! 'Well at least someone is kind!' he took it without question, oh they weren't particularly strong. Pulling himself back up on the bar stool Alekzandr stumbled onto his seat just in time for his next drink. The fiery white liquid burned the back of his throat and plugged his nostrils granting a humble euphoria which settled on his brain like a blanket. At last Alekz faced this Good Samaritan squinting hard, he tried to make out the individuals face.
"Who are you, kind comrade?" His eyes adjusted, Alekzandr saw the confident face of a human male who couldn't be over twenty-five, young looking one. Wind swept dark brown hair circled over his face laughing at the pull of gravity which is defied so violently. He had rich green eyes resembling the leaves, foliage, grass, and plant life of a forest pressed in a juicer until its concentrate could fill a pupil. The man smiled patting a sleeping man on Alekz's left he took a seat at the bar sweeping his five nine or so body onto the stool plastered with a big cocky grin yet bored expression. He dress was studded leather wrapping over an exposed green tunic and ill-fitted grey cloak cascading over his shoulders haphazardly.
"Herod. Herod Westwood, drunkard." Herod turned in his seat and extended a hand, Alekz shook it. Hmm. 'Now that is fascinating..' He thought noticing the object at Herod's right hip. Daft he may assume but magic must have been in the air. A large open sheathe which exposed the blade of a doubled-edged bastard-sword. A dusky, smokey blade which ran with softly glowing green runes and etching spiraling like vines and leaves crossing in knots. Its guard though was a dark silver set of small stag horns and wrapped brown leather grip. The work of art had a fox-head pommel inscribed with a symbol Alekzandr had never seen before.
The young man turned away and slammed back a dark brown drink. Alekzandr nodded as if the information was slowly trickling into his brain. He was never one to over-question a stranger, anyone kind enough to help him up was good in his eyes. He turned back to his new bottle and took a swig-
"Hello, non-believer!" Alekzandr nearly jumped out of his chair as the man who was previously to his right was yanked off and flung onto the floor. The same man who complimented his hat was tossed Lobodovshki knows where. Now in his place a crazy-eyed boy...girl? No, definitely a girl. He couldn't tell- 'they' stood leaning over the bar. He stared at the young half-elf whose face was feminine. Their small eyes held enormous unnatural violet pupils with an insane glint. He got that odd feeling that those eyes held... something. Where Herod's seemed powerful, these looked.. odd; because their pupils looked much older despite the figure being so young.
"Oh dear lord.. yes Markos?" Durnan greeted the half-elf who seemed to do everything twice as fast and three times as eccentrically.
"Could I get a drink?!" The half-elf's voice was high pitched and irritating which only made them sound more like a girl, and.. he as it appeared, seemingly refused to stop yelling. The half-elf was passed a brown drink before Durnan seemingly hurried away as fast as he could from him.
Alekzandr looked to a scurrying Durnan and then back to the half-elf. The boy's head moved unnaturally, turning over to him as if there was no resistance, no effort. "Oh! You're a Rushiki!" his intoxicated brain cleared for a moment as he locked eyes with this boy. His mind was silent as his ears began drumming.
"Who- how do you-" Alekzandr shook his head before gazing agape at the half-elf. He studied the boy's features. Realization spread across him. "I am stunned you would even recognize, though... I supposed you would know all about them." Alekzandr felt his brain ticking as he worked out this boy's heritage. Shorter ears, skin that once had an incredibly light copper tone now looked downright pale but he saw it, a small nose and a clear Ercelan ancestry in his facial structure. In fact, it looked rather familiar. Alekzandr gave the boy a once over. He was around five foot five inches with a feminine face and medium-length jet black hair that went just barely past his ears. He wore a confusing mix of a dark gray top that was adorned with symbols. His pants seemed to be sewn together; dark war pants yet it had a threaded branch with purple lines running along it. The boy was wrapped in a large yellow cloak that was tattered at its edges however it didn't seem to have any dirt on it or wear its color looking like gold. He picked up the cup with a grasp covered in hand wrappings in place of gloves. The boy looked slim and almost malnourished. Strapped along his back was a long six-foot trident with a strange tentacle design on the handle were two outer points that were oddly sharpened. But, as he noticed before, what was most unnerving about the boy were his eyes. These unnatural purple pupils are easily one-half larger than they should be and stared deep into anything they looked into. Like a picture of infinity constantly broadcasting. On his neck was a small black necklace with a ring hanging off of it.
"I do, non-believer!" Markos replied. Alekzandr recalled what Durnan had called him.
"Non-believer? What on Toril are you talking about-" Alekzandr stopped himself. "Hi.. strange boy, my name is Alekzandr Ikorov, and you are?"
"My name is Markos Amanodel, Non-believer!" Alekzandr shook his head. Amanodel sounded familiar. But what in Lobodoshki's name was Non-believer? He chuckled, he'd met Ercelan's crazier than that.
"Oh dear.." Alekzandr opened his mouth to speak but before that, the doors of the tavern burst open. All eyes in the bar slowly turned at once to the wrestling figures- who were now on the ground of the tavern entrance. It appeared The Yawning Portal was getting a bit of entertainment.
"Ooo!" Markos cooed "People to convert!" Alekzandr leaned back, as did many, while others somewhat gathered around the two brawlers.
"Ya pig! Like killi'n me mates do ya?!" The onlookers winced as they watched a tall human throw a punch against a seven-foot-tall orc. The human was a tall male with a shaved tattooed head, while the orc was clearly female. Behind the human male stood four figures, humans as well with various looks. Alekzandr shook his head at the fighting and turned back to his drink.