Sunset, at the Dancing Bear in Lugard.

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Andres
Posts: 3
Joined: Sun Aug 14, 2011 3:48 pm

Sunset, at the Dancing Bear in Lugard.

Post by Andres »

Heh. Your second hour without a drink and you've given up?
Some "sacrifice" you're making here.


Andres taps his mug impatiently. Maybe if you had tipped the flaming maid a bit more and pinched her bottom a bit less she might favour you with a smile?

Picking up the empty mug, he holds it up against his forehead, letting the slight chill from the metal silence the angry buzzing in his head. Enough drinks for today.

Sargon, his (former?) mentor, two days ago-
"Why are you so sloppy?"
"Flaming ashes man! Novices were taken by a Darkfriend, I NEED you right now. You can drink later!"
"Novices led astray... Accepted Blossom... touched by the Shadow."
"She is...no longer a Novice, Andres. She is a full Aes Sedai now."
"Arleve Sedai is, gone. Dead."


PAIN.

Arleve? Dead? She shouldn't be. Can't be.You still owe her a debt. of gold and honour. Krinata- a Sedai? How much time have you lost, you fool, pining after the things -the people- you cannot have? Novices- gone? That blonde haired one you fancy- with the huge gray eyes and the smell of autumn berries? Blossom? Is that the pretty young thing with the ice blue eyes and the stutter? No: that's V-

Stop thinking, you fool. You never amounted to much for thinking, anyway. And thinking makes your head hurt. Let the lords and ladies do the thinking.

Where is that eagle-nosed lady who taunts you in your dreams, anyway? Even her brother, who once called you friend, has left you in your own rotting cesspool of cheap drink and acrid pipeweed.


Sargon again, this time with a new, dangerous glint in his eyes-
"My temper is barely contained, what you do in your own time is your business and I will not presume to intrude on that, BUT you have responsibilities."

Sargon weaves a tall tale. A tall- unbelievable tale. Nobody, in two days, has seen any novices. No one has heard anything about trafficking young channelers at all. And that light in his eyes as he growled in your face, spittle flecking your nose and eyebrows-

"MY TEMPER IS BARELY CONTAINED."

But is it just your temper? Or has something touched your mind too, Sargon?


Andres rubs his eyes tiredly as he gets up to relieve himself in a bucket in the corner. The Dancing Bear- known for its bawdy jokes and rowdy clientele- is constantly inundated with the smell of dried vomit and that elusive stench of urine that never seems to fade no matter hard the staff scrub at the wooden floors. It is in such places, however, that the scum of the earth congregate, and where they congregate, one might hear something-

You made a promise to your mentor. Keep it! Ears open, stay focused. No more drinks for today.

Ask the wolves, perhaps they know something? But they know you hate them, you hate the gift, sometimes entire packs ignore you, you pariah. No. Let Aruon handle that. He always was the furry one. Stick to people. Oh, but people hate you too, for who you are. Bastard. Golden-eyed BASTARD. Golden-eyed bastard with a big, scary sword. Even the ruffians leave you alone.

Sargon- you grabbed me by the collar. I've killed men for less. And you asked if I was all there. I could ask the same of you.

"MY TEMPER IS BARELY CONTAINED."
Light, Sargon. You come to me with no proof, no logical explanation, an impossible story, even threaten me physically, and THEN ask me for help?! But I gave my word, mentor.. friend. I will do what you asked me, and listen.

But warder or no, you are a blademaster, after all- one of the world's most dangerous men; and if you've truly gone insane.. I'll be the one to test that curved sword you take so much pride in wielding.

I do so like that sword after al---
wait, what? Light.


Andres growls at himself, angry at where his train of thought is leading him. He raises an arm at the tavernkeeper, gesturing at his empty mug. Blood and bloody ashes. One more drink can't hurt. Can it?
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