The Fools of The City: V
The morning couldn't have come quicker for Asher. While he was averse to working with a band of nobodies, he knew Markos at least, which.. Didn't really mean much, but.. Markos was an alert guy; he had good sense fifty percent of the time. And had saved his life before. Oh, who was he kidding? He liked the half-elf. Asher sat up in his bed and began reapplying the straps of his armor; he wasn't the kind of person to waste time.
"Hey, it's Asher, right?" He looked up at the doorway to his room to see the figure of Riu, the annoying bimbo who had attempted to sleep with Alekzandr the night prior. Or maybe just molest him?
"Yeah." Asher stood up and finished the final straps to his shin guards. "Did Markos do something?" Expecting some trouble from his friend, he looked Riu up and down. Blonde hair, striking frost eyes, a decently standard figure, and a large chest. She seemed medium height, maybe five foot five? Six? While he could glean some physical attributes, the vast majority of Riu was hidden below a dark black cloak. He didn't trust people in coverings; always something to hide, and the idiots who wanted to stay warm should've just worn a coat like him.
"What? No. No, uh.. the.. cultist is fine. I was checking on everyone, ensuring we were all getting ready." Riu's words were minced, leading Asher to distrust her; while he assumed that Markos was probably not doing anything at the moment, she still spoke as if something had to be hidden. Her eyes flashed when he figured she wasn't sure where to look with his mask on.
"Gotcha.." He made a mental note not to trust the girl. Sliding his scimitar onto his side, Asher exited the room while Riu continued to hug the door frame.
Asher passed Alexander's room; the locked door didn't surprise him at all. Was Riu just unaware of the shit she pulled the night prior? He passed the open door of Herod's room. With the feats he had displayed last night, it wouldn't be surprising if the guy was a warlock; in fact, that's probably exactly what Herod was; his sword glowed weirdly, and.. damnit that spell, the stupid spell, he was all too familiar with. "heh." Asher chuckled to himself; despite Markos's prayers and shit, he was still far from being a warlock; it seemed that Herod was younger than him and still had more 'power.' Although. He knew better than to underestimate the ball of chaos that was Markos. "Shit, Markos."
Asher had been standing outside Herod's room for far too long. Sprinting down the hallway, he found Markos's room and opened the door. It wasn't locked. He'd left the healing to experts, but.. there was something that couldn't be healed and never would be. Stepping into the room, his visored gaze met a shivering figure. Looking around the room, he saw random pamphlets with the same title, which had been scribbled onto furiously. Markos sat in the center of a bed, holding his knees against his chest, shaking violently. His body was soaked with sweat. "Bad dreams?" Asher approached slowly, holding his hands out for comfort.
"They're here!" Markos practically lunged from his bed at Asher, who sidestepped the cultist quickly. "I can hear the dreams! The gleaming schemes! They-they're here, it's here!" Markos grabbed his leg and shook, his eyes welling with tears. "We have to wake him; he will-"Asher cut Markos off with a slight shove. Kneeling down, he steadily set his hand on Markos's head. This was a once-in-a-month mind fuck.
"Shh, no one is here. Nothing is coming." Markos shook furiously as his purple eyes darted around the room; Asher felt that Markos could see things in the room that he could not.
"Please- don't leave me alone again-"Asher cut Markos off.
"Yeah yeah, of course. I won't leave you, Markos.." He felt lousy lying, but.. he'd lied countless times. He tried sleeping in the same room as Markos; the kid screamed and shook the nightmares, sometimes keeping him up all night and keeping Asher awake too." It was better to let the kid sleep alone and deal with the aftermath. He looked like a failed River of Styx oath breaker. Just.. tortuous.
Asher sat there with the shivering Markos for ten minutes, around how long it took to stabilize him. After a few moments, Markos stopped shaking. It wasn't a gradual process; it was an instantaneous switch. He stood up and left the room while Markos threw on his various layers of clothing. No longer shaking but still clearly afraid.
He walked down the steps from the Inn rooms and back into the tavern.
"I'll have one to go." Asher requested, grabbing Durnan's attention. Durnan nodded, pulling out a flask of ale and sliding it to him, paying promptly.
He made his rounds through the rooms, checking whether everyone was ready: Alekzandr, Herod, Adleth, and Riu. He got a pretty good look at each of them for the first time. He received sly looks and glances observations; it was interesting how much people looked at you, something he only realized when he'd dawned his mask. He stopped outside Alekzandr's room, the only guy who seemed fully prepared to go.
Alekzandr looked like the drunk he was. He was a decent height, probably five foot ten, and had light brown hair. His face looked weary; he couldn't have been older than forty-seven. His eyes, which were perhaps a pleasant sight at one point, were bright blue streaked with bloodshot veins. Alekzandrs's skin was a pale white, and he was dressed in a battle uniform, one Asher had seen before; winter boots and coat both dark brown, with white fur lining and embroidered with the blue star crossed by an 'AX-1' and a bottle of alcohol. The symbol of the Rushiki, his coat came down over his legs and opened in the center, probably due to the weather. He bit his tongue. Asher had so much he wanted to say to Alekzandr, but he decided on another day.
"Come on, let's get moving, guys!" Asher thundered as he pushed his way to the back. Herod was up next behind Alekzandr; he was clearly just a kid, probably somewhere between nineteen and twenty-one; his eyes were a natural forest green, while his hair was a light brown swept upwards in a recently fashionable cut. His face was small and ferret-like, with an angled nose and a subtle complexion. He had fair skin and was dressed in a green tunic with leather reinforcements across it. His pants were brown and grey, with brown leather boots at the end. At his left hip hung an intricate long sword. It didn't exactly have a sheath, more of a holster that exposed the blade; it was made of a dusky grey metal with pulsating green lines similar to that of dripping water running all along the sword, and the hilt had a metallic antler-shaped design and a leather wrap. The blade itself had an unusually intricate symbol at just the base of the blade, one Asher.. couldn't recognize. Yet also runes running the fuller's surface he could. Vestus would like it.
He moved past Herod swinging the door to Markos's room open.
"You ready?" He asked, realizing his tone was probably a bit too abrupt.
"Yeah.." Markos stood up and stepped out of the Shadows, he wasn't looking much better mentally, but he was dressed in light armor under black and purple robes adorned with various symbols. His pants were slightly baggy, but they, too, shared the unique hand-dyed black color. Markos donned a golden yellow cloak with tattered ends but no stains. His black hair was brushed lazily to the side, reaching just past his ears. Markos's face was odd for most; being a half-elf with copper skin, his face didn't look much like that of him. Feminine features, including a smaller nose, more enormous eyes, and lips, gave him a uniquely girlish look. Not to mention his giant purple eyes that constantly gave him a clear image of insanity. "Let's go find this non-believer" Markos walked past him holding his signature trident.
The group of them bounded down the stairs. As Riu and Herod ordered food, Asher watched Adleth casually talk to Markos, stepping closer to him as his friend backed away out of fear.
Adleth was an exciting figure, to say the least; Asher couldn't glean much from her; he hadn't seen her during the fighting, only at the end when they all sat together at the table, cooling off. Now in the tavern light, he got a good image of her; short, at around five foot, she looked like a twig. Clearly, a full-blooded elf with olive skin looking at her ears. She had simple emerald green eyes that gave you the impression she was constantly insulting you in her head; her face was pretty, that Asher could tell. She had long Auburn hair and wore a small sleeveless tunic with compact thief pants lined with pockets. At her sides sat two elven short swords with rings in their guards.
"We're ready to go!" Herod announced loudly as he strolled past Asher; he made a mental note to remember he was a loud one. The group walked out of the Yawning portal and stood on the street.
"So where exactly are we heading?" Riu asked politely. He smiled,
"We're heading to the Skewered dragon, or at least the area near there; that's where Volo said he saw Floon Last."
"Oh, that's between Net Street and Fillet Lane on the dock wards," Herod chimed in; Adleth nodded in agreement.
"Then let's go-" Riu turned on her heel, almost expecting the party to follow her; almost instantly, Adleth raised an objection.
"We probably want to survey the area around the Skewered dragon first, knowing that the place was dealing with a few gang members hanging around," Adleth told the group.
"Yeah, we can do that," Asher replied.
"But wait, wouldn't it be a better idea to go straight in? If we survey, we waste valuable time!" Riu objected.
"Look, it's either a waste of time or get ourselves skewered," Adleth remarked sternly. "And if that's how you're going out, Noble, by all means."
"We could always just kick down the door!" Markos chimed from the crowd.
"Nope." Asher affirmed, "Let's survey the area, ask around. Then maybe we can go in." He led the party towards the dock wards; as they traversed the streets of Waterdeep, he couldn't help but think about the issues of this town, gangs, and nefarious plots. These were things he would have to look out for. If he wanted his payday.
"Do you think this is a good idea, Asher?" He turned to see Markos walking by him; sometimes, he forgot how short the half-elf was. And clearly, by his language, he was having a wonderful mental moment.
"Somewhat; I mean, the guy was promising a lot of gold." He looked slyly at Markos, who caught the message and started to grin; how with a mask on? He didn't care to ask.
"So what do you think happened to him?" Markos asked as he aimlessly stared off around him
"Probably pissed off the wrong people and got grabbed. It doesn't matter as long as we find what's left of him." Asher looked into the near-empty streets; the sun had yet to come up, leaving the group mainly in the dark. But he knew his way through the darkness; the Marrow had taught him that.
"So! Headed to another tavern; I hope they have vodka," Alekzandr said as he struggled to catch up to Markos and Asher leading the way.
"Probably, Alekzandr.. it is a common drink," Asher replied.
"I bet it'll taste fantastic, Alekzandr!" Markos remarked. Asher's head turned with sudden speed as he snapped his eyes over to Markos. Did Markos just call Alekzandr by his name? Did that single conversation last night really get Markos comfortable enough to treat Alekzandr with respect..? What on Toril did he do?
The party walked down numerous streets, turning around several times as they tried to find their way toward Net Street. He turned on Snail Street and passed by Trollcrook Alley.
"Did you fight in the war?" Asher finally asked, staring forward, and he knew the answer.
"You.. know of the war?" he turned to see Alekzandr's face as a look of surprise danced across it. Asher grew a heavy expression.
"Yeah, of course I do; hell, everyone in that area knew it was going down; the Rushiki paid me a lot to fight for them." He replied; he stared at his hands momentarily, thinking of what he had done.
"Incredible; I never thought I'd find another who fought in it for years." Alekzandr looked at his rifle. "Who did you serve with?" Asher snorted a little bit.
"I served with Dmitry Vikirir; he was my general." He smiled a little bit, thinking about his old friends. "He died at the battle of thirty Hade, the last push of the Ercelans." Alekzandr took on a distant look.
"I'm sorry, I had already left the war at that point." Asher studied Alekzandr's face as he heard the tone of bitterness take over. "I couldn't fight for those bastards anymore.." Alekzandr said solely. He wanted to ask why, but something.. Burned in him, almost like he didn't care. He knew all these answers, and yet. Wanted to ask anyway.
"I barely got out with my life; trust me, neither of us has any love for that war," Asher responded. Turning to his left, he could tell Markos was paying close attention.
"The war was cruel, stupid if the Ercelans had only listened-"Alekzandr was cut off.
"We're here," Adleth announced. Asher looked up and saw the street sign. Filet lane.
"There it is." Herod pointed into a corner of the street; on their left was a large tavern. "The Skewered Dragon."