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Post by terralventhe on Sept 7, 2011 21:14:28 GMT -5
Current Music: [HERE]Current Ambience: [Village][/right] The ground underfoot would give way with ease. The sloppy, wet mud of the town showing how little it had advanced even in today's world; the muck clinging to trousers and footwear and sploshing over clothing at every opportune moment, including the dull brown waters of large puddles that had amassed to fill in the tracks left by carts and tires, as the occasional villager wandering past them on their way towards the tavern would shoot them a condemning glance, or a suspicious leer - once in a while, even the occasional shove of the shoulder if close contact came into presence, though always with a quick attempt to hide one's face afterwards. As the two would carry on their trek towards the tavern, at least, it would eventually come into sight - looking no better off than the other houses with their poorly thatched roofs, and weathered, rain-beaten wooden walls with only the occasional rock in place, chipped and carved to an awkward fit - the stench of urine lingering by one of the 'popular walls' to the place whilst the vague sound of music being played could be heard through the cracks of the partly opened windows, the occasional sight of someone's cigarette smoke drafting out through along with the music also making itself noteworthy. The place wasn't much to look at, but from the looks of it, the tavern itself seemed to have its own purpose of allowing the locals to drown their misery away. In particular, though, the low-hanging sign of the tavern was something noteworthy, being a carved shield with a convenient painting of a rooster and a cat with red and green splaying across it, and the name of the tavern in turn painted onto it as well. Though, naturally, in the local tongue the name carried no implications, it seemed to be a kind of tongue-in-cheek jest that the locals themselves ought to be aware of, hidden in plain sight as it were. The door of the tavern itself, in any case, awaited the pair should they decide to enter the place, it looking like it was once painted a dull, maroon shade, though that too seeming to have had its luster beaten off of its surface by the local weather and hospitality.
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Post by theron on Sept 13, 2011 10:30:58 GMT -5
'Not much of a place to call a business,' Theron thought grimly. In any other town or city a building like this probably would've been condemned ages ago, but here it fit in perfectly. Despite getting jostled & muddy en route Theron managed to keep Nova close all the way up to the weather-beaten door. 'What a filthy sty.' The thought was equally directed at the sign as the structure; one didn't even need to understand Romanian to suspect it was some kind of vulgar slur or "local color" at play in the name.
Still, it was the only resource at hand. Eyes and ears open for signs of trouble, Theron pushed open the door and led the way inside...
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Post by nova on Sept 14, 2011 17:09:11 GMT -5
If she had been in the proper mood, the crude joke in the sign that even she couldn’t have missed would have caused a giggling fit in the girl, however that wasn’t the case. She was stiff to the bone and silent, her blood probably as blue as her fingers that clutched at the thin blanket, desperate to keep as much warmth as she could. It wasn’t hard to see that plan was failing completely and her normal wit had left her, but she didn’t want to say she regretted it, or say she wanted to go home, because in the end she had to go with her Partner, and more selfishly, the desire to become the first DeathScythe in her family was stronger than the longing she had to feel warmth. Even so, a Kishin Soul would warm her better than the blistering sun of the Mojave Desert could.
Nova didn’t care much for the smell; it was the last thing that occupied her mind. Right now she was worried, anxious. She had no idea what was inside the crude old Tavern and she wasn’t looking forward to having to spend more time with that pig of a man. No matter what he said she wouldn’t trust him, and even though she wasn’t weak she knew that she was safest with Theron, at least he could still move properly. Unlike with Lizzie, they hadn’t been thrown into anything straight away but a long and tedious flight to Europe. The length of time taken just to get here had hyped up more of a tension in her then the car trip to River Fall ever had. This time they didn’t even know what was out there waiting for them, or where it would be…or who else they’d run into. By what she could gather, Theron’s family weren’t too friendly, and unlike these buffoons, probably wouldn’t be fooled with a petty disguise. She just hoped they would steer clear of more trouble than they’d asked for.
Entering the Tavern, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Part of her imagined it to be busy, like you see in films and such, and another part of her knew that was unlikely. The state of the village alone was enough to point out that these people could barely afford to live, let alone indulge. Still, there was little she could do, and so had to accept whatever was on the other side of the old wooden door.
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Post by terralventhe on Oct 7, 2011 11:26:44 GMT -5
--=~=-- Cocoş şi Pisică[/center] Current Music: [HERE]Current Ambience: [Tavern] [/right] --=~=-- The tavern itself was rank with the smell of grown male sweat, poorly brewed beer, cigarette smoke and what was distinctly a wet dog; confirmed by the barking of a mangy, ratty-looking thing sitting in a corner beside the bar, tied with a string to a nail embedded in the wall. As the door was opened up to the outsiders, it did so with a distinctive, and altogether uncomfortable creaking sound that somehow managed to pervade the otherwise loud, talkative crowd of the tavern. Through the air there wafted something else besides a stench, at least, a scratchy, off-tune recording of music playing through an archaic record player that was placed behind the bar, its bronzed pavillion playing a relaxed, folkish tune that did very little to dampen the strenuous tension that filled the air as the two entered. In spite of this tension, however, not that many of the tavern's patrons actively looked at them.. a mere handful at best giving them an evil eye once in a while, particularly the barkeep as he seemed to counter-productively be scrubbing a dirty mug with an even dirtier dish rag.. The tavern itself being rather customary.. a dart board off to the side, a few men arm wrestling over their drinks while others miserably complained about work to their co-workers.. the stools and tables, wooden all, looked weathered and worn out, as if they'd been sitting there for centuries by now, some even having a distinctive settling of dirt and grime encased around the legs that showed they'd never even been moved in all of that time. Atop the tables with some of the men there were platters of dented tin, upon which sat the remains of half-eaten bread, chicken bones and an excess amount of gravy lathered over it all, as the few patrons who were there for food gnawed away at their meals.
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Post by nova on Oct 19, 2011 16:42:45 GMT -5
The first thing Nova noticed, walking into the crude tavern, was the smell. That God-awful stench was pretty much impossible to ignore, yet she hid the reaction of such a smell, mostly due to how damn cold she was right now. Nothing was pleasant, apart from the fact it was slightly warmer in here, and the loudness of it all felt a little better then the silence. Even the scratchy record disk hit all the wrong notes inside the head of the young girl, who neither felt safe or comfortable around these pigs who dared to call themselves men.
Nova resorted to clutching onto the sleeve of her partners jumper, just to be safe, and make sure they weren't separated. But due to the cold, her blue hands didn't grip on as tightly as felt safe. Still shivering, she would follow Theron where ever he'd lead. This wasn't a place she wanted to go walk-about's. The Chakram wanted to find the guy they were looking for, and have their chat over and done with so they could be gone and gone quickly. Nova was hungry, but didn't want any food this place had to offer, she was thirsty but she had a feeling they might not sell anything besides poorly made beer.
Luckily, not many people gave them too much attention, and that was fine by her. The less people noticed the better. "Can we get this over with? I don't want to hang around too long..." It was hard to tell if her voice was shakey with nerves, or shaking with the cold, either way, she didn't want to be here very long, that was final.
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Post by theron on Jan 21, 2012 15:13:57 GMT -5
(OOC: Aaaaaaand... after a VERY long delay, the adventure continues! :rock: )
Theron's repulsion was gradually reaching new heights. It wasn't that fact that these people lived under such shoddy, inhumane conditions -- that would require empathy for the very people he knew might one day be fighting each other for an opportunity to flay flesh from his bones -- but a general sense of revulsion, like seeing the rotted-out corpse of a dead animal, only it honestly smelled and, from his perspective, looked worse. Resisting the urge to crinkle his nose was proving no easy chore.
"Can we get this over with? I don't want to hang around too long..."
Theron nodded, her thoughts mirroring his own. He didn't want to be here any more than need be -- it was clear the village chief was up to something, hoping either to stall or discourage them for his own benefit -- but with the shivering Weapon clinging tightly to him he knew he couldn't leave just yet. 'Have to get her warm first.'
That just left the question of how, and not a lot of options sprung to mind. The food was almost certainly nasty; the last thing either of them needed was Nova getting sick. Ale or beer might have a slight warming effect on the body but... well, there were half a dozen reasons not to risk that. And any blankets or extra clothes these people had were almost certainly infested or carrying some disease... which just left one thing.
With an air of forced confidence Theron marched, with Nova close beside, right up to the barkeep. If this place had locally-produced bread and chicken then there was one other thing it almost certainly had as well. "Cit de mult sa-si foloseasca ti gatit foc pentru o perioada scurta de timp? I s-au bani din afara Baronia." 'How much to use your cooking fire for a short time? I have money from outside the Barony.' The one thing Theron was sure he could trust in this filthy hovel was the warmth and purity of fire -- after November had warmed up enough that she didn't look about to catch her death of cold they could move on to the chief's house and then, with a bit of luck, finally get this Mission resolved and put behind them. As an afterthought he added "Si o torta, daca ai avea unul." 'And a torch, if you have one.'
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Post by terralventhe on Feb 14, 2012 16:35:03 GMT -5
The man standing at the bar, wiping down a dented, steel mug with a rag that seemed about as dirty as the drinking vessel he was cleaning it with, was a broad man. His nose swollen and crooked, as if having been punched one too many times on top of suffering one of the numerous health problems likely associated with the cold alone. His face was slightly boil-riddled in place, unshaven and fairly unkept, with the shapings of a thick moustache on the upper lip that rolled down to each side of his chin. As the youths approached, there fell a deathly silence over the place, as if the tension just got heightened by the mere action of them moving from one place to another. Squinting at them from the other side of the bar's counter, the man wrinkled his nose distastefully as he listened to the boy's request, his outward response seeming like a guarantee of telling him to rot in the nearest ditch just as far as a natural reaction goes. Until the mention of money, of course.. Even with all of the personal loyalties about the d'Metreon lands, if anything else, outside money was to be valued. It meant making personal requests to the supply runner for wares and supplies and the sort. It was even how they'd managed to get that scratchy, worthless record player that was playing its dented tune even now. "Foc de gătit este numai pentru clienţi plătitori," (Cooking fire's only for paying customers) the man said with a grunt, gesturing to the backroom kitchen behind the counter, "Cumpăra mâncare în primul rând, atunci vom spune ca este vorba despre patru la sută de lei. În valută străină.." (Buy some food first, then we'll say it's about four-hundred lei. In foreign)Obviously, his price was more than overdone, though that wasn't surprising at all. A representative of the d'Metreons would have that kind of money in easy supply, and it was in the nature of these people to squeeze every little drop out of someone that they could manage in hopes of at least making their miserable existance just a little more tolerable, "Voi arunca torta, în, ca parte din afacere, asa ca ce va fi?" (I'll throw the torch in as part of the deal, so what'll it be?)At the same moment it'd feel as if all eyes in the tavern were beset upon them. After all, the mention of that amount of money wouldn't go unheard - and it would be prudent to keep an eye on the visitors, particularly if it meant that some money could be made.. that target painted on the two students' backs just getting bigger and bigger by the moment with everything said and done in these parts.. as if this simple village was just waiting for a chance to swallow them up on the spot.
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Post by nova on Feb 20, 2012 16:41:15 GMT -5
Nova didn't understand a word that was being said. She didn't know if that was a good think or a bad thing, but to any extent, she really didn't know what was going on. This place smelt as bad as it looked, the people in the Tavern were glaring daggers. That was something she couldn't miss, just as much as the bitter cold. With an icey blue hand, the Weapon tugged on her partners clothes. "I don't know what you're doing, but please, can we just get this over with?" She looked over her shoulder; sure enough, most people where throwing a glance of fire at the pair. "We've too much attention as it is..."
Almost everything in this place made her want to leave. She didn't know why that guy outside had wanted them to come in here to 'talk'. Nova didn't like the way he looked at her. All she wanted was a nice little Kishin Soul to add to the slowly growing count, get back home and have a cup of coffee. Then again, coming to Therons homeland, what did she expect? This wouldn't be anything like the battle with Lizzie. Something gave her the feeling that there were more than one problem they'd be facing out there, on the menu or not.
She tugged once again to make sure she made herself clear. Though, she wouldn't be surprised if, this indeed being a throw-back from the Dark-Ages, they threw her out and beat her for being a female...and actually soliloquising.
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Post by theron on Mar 7, 2012 10:43:56 GMT -5
'Predictable.'
Theron scowled. Not just at the man's ludicrously high price; it didn't even take Theron's paranoid inclinations to guess what the mention of so much lucre would do to these men who were halfway savages. He cast a wary glance over his shoulder, taking note of the exact dimensions of the room, the placement of furniture and patrons, of objects that could be used to his advantage. Mentally, the d'Metreon prince was already preparing for a fight.
Of course, there was still a chance to head it off... if he played his cards right. The wolves were starting to circle, metaphorically speaking, but they could still be scared off.
"Hang on just a little longer -- we'll be out of here in a minute." Theron promised, pulling his hat down just a bit more securely onto his head. His eyes met his partners with that familiar firm confidence of a plan being put into motion. "Nova, could you please transform for me?"
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Post by nova on Mar 10, 2012 13:47:44 GMT -5
It was so easy to tell. By now it was no mystery. There was no mistaking Theron when he was thinking, plotting, scheming. The gears in his head began to turn, and Nova just knew it. In a place like this, whatever he had planned, just couldn't end well, most likely. Everyone here was just waiting for the 'operatives' of the d'Metreons to make a slip up; then they'd go in for the kill.
And then he looked at her, in that particular way that either brought one of two emotions; Confidence, or 'Oh shit you've got to be kidding me?'. This time, it was definately...
"Nova, could you please transform for me?"
...the latter.
Nova's expression turned to one of horror and fear. He wanted her to what?!. Transform? In front of all these Neanderthals?! It would be like putting gas to a flame. Very, very bad, and probably more destructive than productive.
However, Nova was in no position to protest to argue back about how insane that idea was. She neither knew what he was thinking or why he was doing what he was. So, for a few moments she just looked back at him before making a squeaky noise that might of passed for a very nervous "o..okay..." To good ears. After all, the Weapon had to trust him and his judgements, no?
The girl was soon a flood of white light, before her form shifted into that of a round and deadly Chakram, whose steel would be like ice in this cold. Nova felt safe within this form, but she also felt detached from the outside, if only connected to Theron. Nova just braced herself, and whispered to Theron;
"I hope you know what your doing."
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Post by theron on Mar 20, 2012 20:40:23 GMT -5
'So do I...' Theron thought silently as he felt the now-familiar weight of the chakram come to rest in his palm. Mentally he himself was cringing at what he was about to do, about how reckless and dangerous it could well turn out to be. Outwardly, he didn't so much as twitch or bat an eye. If one thing was true about Theron d'Metreon it was that, when it came to the skills of acting and lying, he was a consummate professional. But bluffing his way out of this...
He imagined his situation for a moment as it would seem to a completely detached observer, eliminating from the picture personal knowledge and going only with hard observable facts. Fact: the barkeep was clearly trying to swindle two foreign travelers. Fact: the rest of the inn's patrons were expressing sudden interest at the mention of such sums of outside money, clearly drawn to a potential mark like piranhas to bloodied waters.
Fact: a pale, shivering girl had just glowed with light and become a weapon.
"Deci... aceasta este ospitalitate ne-au promis?" ('So... this is the hospitality we were promised?')
Going very suddenly from a mildly amused expression to a guise of outright fury, Theron slammed his free hand down onto the bar in an angry fist. The gesture had no small amount of force behind it; nearby mugs and dishes rattled and the skittering record player went silent, it's tenuous needle bounced out of the vinyl disc's grooves.
"Hot! Şarlatan! Ce este bunatatea aceasta, ca am venit sa rid terenuri dvs de un demon care va mânca din carnea de oase si sa rada ca altfel te seacă sufletul în jos în iad, şi aici sunt ta, incercand sa ne jefuiasca orb!" ('Thief! Charlatan! What kindness is this, that we come to rid your lands of a demon that will eat the flesh from your bones and laugh as it drags your soul down to hell, and here are you, trying to rob us blind!') The first and foremost thing he had to do in this bluff was establish that he and Nova were not prey for these scum -- erase the target on their backs with a measure of fear and self-preservation. Having her transform was quintessential to the gambit; he could talk all day about how they were warriors worthy of respect but it wouldn't mean anything to these men. By comparison, even beasts of prey that hunt in packs often hesitate to make the first move if their mark bares its fangs and displays its strength. At the same time, mention of the "demon" -- and a healthy dose of imaginative exaggeration -- should convince the man they had to haggle with that it would be best for him if these two fierce young foreigners went on their way as quickly as possible. "Asculta bine. Suntem nu se glumeste cu mine. Am sa platesc o suma corecta echitabila pentru mărfuri, nimic mai mult, nimic altceva. O suta de lei; zece minute la foc, nici un fel de hrana, două torţe. Şi dacă nu aţi alimentare ceea ce avem nevoie atunci nu pot cu siguranta informeaza Domnul Baron cum am fost tratat aici, si de catre cine." ('Listen well. We are not to be trifled with -- I will pay a fair sum for fair goods, nothing more, nothing else. One-hundred lei; ten minutes at the fire, no food, two torches. And if you won't supply what we need then I can certainly inform the Lord Baron how we were treated here, and by whom.')
It was all about playing the part convincingly. He could not let these barbarians look down upon him as a foreign child, as mere meat to sustain themselves on. No... it had to be drilled into their thick skulls, sooner rather than later, that he and Nova meant business and they would go through anyone and anything to do what they'd come here for. The offer was still generous, more than generous in fact; if the barkeep valued his skin and wanted to still turn a profit he'd go for the deal and let that be it. If not... well, Theron would deal with what ifs as they became reality. These people were a brutish, savage lot, true, but they had more in common with a half-starved dog than a wolf and would likely turn tail and run just as easily.
If only he could pull the same act with that slimy village chief... though somehow he suspected that one had as much wolf as dog in him.
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Post by terralventhe on Apr 17, 2012 8:23:59 GMT -5
The silence that came over the tavern was oppressive. The occasional sounds of the few that dared to move painfully sounded out above the whole place with clinking and clattering noises of cuttlery and mugs bumping against plates, and the old, worn out floor creaking in response to the occasional shift in someone's weight upon their seat. The once fairly rowdy establishment had been rendered mute in its entirity within the span of a mere few seconds, as clearly nobody dared make a sound of intent. All eyes were fixed on them, though now it the gazes felt less like that of hungering savages and more like that of a terrified mob; spiteful and hating, but clearly too intimidated to do anything about it. And then the whispers began. Everyone muttering and murmuring amongst themselves, hissing and speaking below their breaths as their eyes remained fixed. The words 'diavol' and 'monstru' and 'baron' making their way around the whole establishment as everyone seemed almost fixated upon the barkeep and the two, now singular and armed, foreigners intimidating him. "Nenorocit fault de baron.." (Foul bastard of the baron..) the man behind the bar hissed beneath his breath, glaring daggers at the young boy standing before him, threatening him in front of everyone and speaking with such grandiose airs about him that there could definitely be no questioning of his upper class upbringing, "Nu ştiu nimic de monştri sau de afaceri baronului, şi nu-mi place să fie ameninţat în taverna mea," (I know nothing of monsters or of the baron's business, and I do not like to be threatened within my own tavern,) he said, spitting to the side while his venomous glare continued, "Dar faptul că corcitură nebun, Vali, te vrea pentru ceva, şi eu ştiu mai bine decât să traverseze că ticălos, mai ales dacă aceasta înseamnă a face cu voi, câini de baron." (But that mad mongrel, Vali, wants you for something, and I know better than to cross that bastard, especially if it means dealing with you dogs of the baron.)At that the murmurs began to die down a little, as suddenly someone made a dash for the door, bursting through it and running almost as if he expected the two students to give chase and somehow try to stop him.. The barkeep spat again, bitter concede in his voice, "Eu va pregăti ceea ce ceri, dar nu a reveni la acest loc. Am suferit destul de sub degetul mare deja, fără lamele de la gât." (I will prepare what you ask, but do not return to this place. We suffer enough under your thumb already without your blades at our throats.) With that the barkeep moved away, stepping towards the back of the tavern and pushing open a door, going to gather and collect the wares as requested. Such outspoken contempt was rare in such a prominent part of the barony.. either this barkeep was more important than he let on, or he simply knew that speaking in such a way could hardly be any more damning than dealing with his current authorities.. Before long, though, the man returned with a small satchel with two shafts of wood sticking out, tossing them unto the bar, "Luaţi-le şi restul de foc. Apoi iesi. Şi să plătească taxa de mine mi naibii." (Take them and rest by the fire. Then get out. And pay me my damn fee.)
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Post by theron on Apr 27, 2012 3:55:37 GMT -5
Though he took offense at being called a 'bastard of the baron', Theron didn't show it in the staring contest that ensued following his opening move. Instead, he let the man talk... and what came out of his mouth did surprise the young prince. For one of the rare times in his life, Theron wondered if he had completely misjudged this man. It didn't slip his attention when one of the patrons scrambled for the exit -- he'd fully expected the village chief to have one or two toadies about, keeping an eye on them, and honestly it was better that such a one had dashed off to report to his master. It made the next move that Theron decided on all the simpler... and slightly less likely to reach Vali's ears. Nodding, the Meister turned to his partner. "Thanks, all clear now. We'll have you warmed up in a minute or two Nova." After the Weapon had returned to normal, and while the barkeep was still in the other room, Theron drew a wallet on a chain out of his pants pocket. Careful to keep its contents out of sight, he pulled out a number of bills of assorted value, a large number of smaller 5L and 10L bills and three 100L bills, rolling up the smaller ones in his sleeve while placing one of the 100L on the bar in front of him and folding the other two up in his palm. "Luaţi-le şi restul de foc. Apoi iesi. Şi să plătească taxa de mine mi naibii." He pushed the bill across the bar. "Multumim." ("Our thanks.") Then, making sure his voice was low enough that only the barkeep could hear, he added. "Şi ceva pentru problema ta. Fără să se rupă la lupi călcâiele mele imi pot permite sa fie mai generoasa." ("And something for your trouble. Without wolves snapping at my heels I can afford to be more generous.") Quietly placing down the extra money, he gave an appreciative nod. "Un ultim lucru ..." ("One last thing...")Theron quickly flashed the roll of smaller bills at the man -- based on the thickness of it alone there was likely an additional 150 or 250 lei there. "Nu sunt un sclav al baronului -- treaba noastra aici este la cererea lui, da, dar am raspuns la o autoritate diferită. Nu doresc să vă face viaţa dificilă, dar ... Nu am incredere Vali. Fara indoiala ca el incearca sa foloseasca de noi pentru propriul avantaj." ("I am no slave of the baron's -- our business here is at his request, yes, but we answer to a different authority. I have no desire to make your life difficult, but... I do not trust Vali. No doubt he seeks to use us for his own advantage.") Theron moved to collect the bundle of torches, adding as quietly as he was able. "Pentru informaţii, I poate fi foarte generos." ("For information, I can be very generous.")Hoping that such an outspoken man was indeed trustworthy -- or at least sufficiently discontent with the village chief to take him up on his offer -- Theron turned to Nova. "Sorry about all that -- tense negotiations. Anyway, I got us some torches and they're going to let us warm up by the cooking fire for a bit."
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Post by nova on Apr 28, 2012 19:06:28 GMT -5
Considering the place in general, and the hostility that was seeping off of the man before them, Nova hadn't really expected this to go well. At all. She trusted Theron, fine, but that didn't mean his mouth wouldn't get them into trouble, or didn't make her think it wouldn't at some point. The weapon sighed when there was no sign of a backlash from him, though she didn't put her guard down. Even though she couldn't understand a work either of the two males were saying, the tone was enough to help her understand. Maybe Theron would have to teach her Romanian at some point.
...But the fact someone had practically thrown themselves out of the door didn't pass under her radar.
""Thanks, all clear now. We'll have you warmed up in a minute or two Nova."..."Eh? What?" Nova seemed a little caught off guard for a second. Blinking in surprise. It took a moment for her frost-bitten brain to make clear light of what he'd just said, and what had just happened. A foreign language was tossed about again for a bit while Theron spoke again to the barkeep, who was obviously not inclined to them still being in his vision. Nova Transformed with a bright light back into her normal form and once again felt the horrid tearing of cold at her skin.
She looked about the place, checking for anything noteworthy, most keeping her attention towards the door when that person had exited. They'd be a problem later on. That or the food around here, really wasn't all that good for you. "Sorry about all that -- tense negotiations. Anyway, I got us some torches and they're going to let us warm up by the cooking fire for a bit." Then it clicked. And the Weapon groaned almost unhappily. "So...you just...eeggh." She hissed under her breath. The bitter cold had made her both tired and cranky. The worst mix, arguably. Theron was being held up by petty things. Sure, this cold was a killer to her; a girl whose life had been spent in an almost unbroken summer sun. The weapon chuckled. "You always find a way to do the unnecessary..."
However, she could help but feel somewhat humbled by what he'd done. It was a little more effort than she'd be willing to make to get a little warmer. Besides, if memory served her, warming up would be the worst. After all, you'd feel the cold that little more bitter. Like wearing a coat inside, then stepping into a mid winter breeze. But Nova wasn't going to say anything like that. Chivalry was almost dead enough as it was.
Even so, Nova was still unsettled in this place. She'd probably be more thankful to get outside than anything.
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Post by terralventhe on May 6, 2012 8:00:55 GMT -5
The barkeep's eyes narrowed as his hand suddenly snapped out, closing over the young d'Metreon's hand with his own, much larger one.. squeezing it firmly. The man's eyes, bloodshot from perhaps one too many sleepless nights, or one to many sips of his own brew, fixed on the boy's features, a grunt in his voice as he lowered his tone to a grumbling utterance so as to safeguard the quiet privacy that the youth had established moments before, "You play a very dangerous game, young one." the man's voice uttered, speaking in a heavily accented English much like the village chief's voice had been, as the boy would feel something hard slip between his fingers by a grubby, but deft hand, "Pocket it now. Give the man at the stables it, but say nothing."At that, the man's hand snapped back, snatching up the bills before him as he spat in the general direction of the two with a vicious sneer, "Ia voi plecat de la ochii mei, copiii diavolului!" (Get ye gone from my eyes, devil children!) he grunted, slamming his other fist down atop the bar, causing several cups to rattle and platters to shake, and oddly enough causing the air of tension amidst the patrons to momentarily lessen.. as if the men within had taken the outburst to imply the matter as 'settled' or outside of their area of influence now, "Voi tolera putoarea până când cauza se face, asa ca de foc - şi poate arde ochii voştri!" (I'll tolerate your stink until the due is done, so get by the fire - and may it burn your eyes out!)The man spat again, and then whirled around to march back over towards the old, rattled gramophone that'd had its needle knocked off the record.. fixing it back into place as that broken, garbled tune once more began to roll out and fill the heavy, stench-riddled air of the tavern.. despite the violent voice of the barkeep, though, and his venomous-sounding words, the atmosphere would feel.. substantially lifted. It'd still feel like there were targets on their backs with daggers at the ready - but the number of daggers would feel smaller somehow, with most of the villagers just sighing into their cups over whatever problems they had themselves. From the corner of their eyes, were they looking at the barkeep still, they might note a momentary glance in their direction; a glance devoid of the glare that they'd been receiving moments before, though exactly what sense being imparted with that look would be hard to tell.. in the meantime, the strange, hard object would still be within the boy's grasp. It was a small thing.. seeming more like a coin, though its shape was almost squared, with dents on some of its corners making it seem more rounded than it really was.. at its center there would be a cross-shaped hole of some sorts.. though any other details would be impossible to make out save for looking directly at the thing. At the back, the fire awaited..
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