First Few Steps

Ealhstan had been about to enter the inn when Abram passed by. Ealhstan paused just short of the doorway, narrowing his eyes at the man's poleaxe and purposeful stride. He gave the warmth of the inn a covetous look before limping after him.


"We have a problem already?" Ealhstan called, checking that his sword was loose in its scabbard as he went.


@KamiKahzy
 
Abram


Abram looked back at Ealhstan as he suddenly made his presence known. Abram stopped his stride and turned so he could address the man properly. "We've lost Darius. I'm checking the wagon, could ye check the stables?"


@Hellkite
 
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Lyke


With the last of her allotted water finally starting to go cold, Lyke sighs and sinks back. She wouldn't put her head back under, the bath water now resembling a small hole after a heavy rain. Lyke could feel bits and pieces of grit digging into her backside. She sighs, reaching down to brush them all off before groaning and standing up in the tub.


The last pitcher soon found itself dumped over her head, Lyke instantly shivering from the chill. Not that she was complaining, it felt amazing just feeling somewhat human again.


Stepping out of the tub, Lyke takes a minute to check over her body. Dozens of cuts and scars on her hands and forearms from living a stupid invincible youth, a nice bolt wound in her shoulder and of course the mouth wound.


It made her smile a bit, although from mirth rather than humor. Lyke lets her jaw hang open before reaching in to fiddle with the ruined meat. Still there, still feeling weird.


She stops, leans back and spits down into the tub, blowing her nose out as well. Her fingers then run through the dark mane of hair, blowing it out before letting it fall where it may. She'd have to cut it down again later, getting too long for her profession of brawls and banditry. It was a shame too, back as a child Lyke realized that a lot of the whores were jealous of her hair, the thickness from her Hrothgaard side and the coal black the Kelen.


A fair mix but Lyke was certain now that it probably wouldn't ever be long enough to show off ever again. It was enough to illicit some muffled laughter before starting the process of getting dressed. Most of her gear had been shaken clean and she'd had the foresight to bring a fresher pair of underclothing so it wouldn't be jumping right back into the trail filth but she wasn't going to be ready for any fancy ball.


Another ten minutes or so and Lyke finally opens the door, motioning to one of the serving girls to go change the water before clomping back down the old worn stairs towards the bar.
 
The innkeeper enters the common looking slightly perplexed, a tankard and rag in hand.


"What's the commotion all about?" he asks to no one in particular.
 
Sam


The young man looks down at his feast with mournful eyes, like dog that had it's treats denied.


He almost let a whimper slip as Osric left the table to attend to whatever it was concerned him so much.


At the innkeepers question, he rises from his seat, carefully stacking the bowls - licked clean - together and utensils and tankards as neatly as possible, "Friend we coming with not here. We of finding," he tries.


He turns to go find Lyke as per Osrics request, when he runs face first into the lady herself, already returning to the room, "Ah, friend Lyke, you are of seeing friend Darius anywhere?'
 
Lyke


Sometimes the best possible response is the simplest of gestures. No need for a grand ol' display when all Sam needed was a shrug.


And she does just that, shrugging once before sitting down to enjoy more of the food before her. Maybe it was something in the bath water but she was now even hungrier than before.


Reaching down she takes ownership of the laman's bowl (thing was damn near licked clean) and again starts her own process of eating, showing little concern about the question regarding Darius
 
Ealhstan stepped into the stable, pausing for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It seemed quiet, beyond the shuffling of the horses in their stalls. After a moment longer he started to search.


"Darius?"


Ealhstan cast his gaze around the darkened room. It seemed empy enough, but sometimes appearances deceived.
 
Sam


The young Laman pouted at Lyke's response, but seeing as other members of the group had already left to search, he simply turns and proceeds his merry way to the baths to get his own refreshment.


He was never one to have baths - his normal wash being rainwater or an occasional dip in a forest pool, when he was sure nothing was going to bite his ankles - but if the luxury was being provided for free, one might as well ask~
 
Osric Silkhand





Osric returns to the inn without Darius, passing Lyke and Sam on his way to finally have a pint and a bowl.


"Darius is praying," he says, with an exaggerated sigh. "No cause for alarm."
 
Abram


Company Wagon > The Big Black Dog





Abram had just sighted the tavern when he noticed Osric snake his way past the front doors. Hoping he'd heard from their lost charge Abram hurried his steps to close the distance. By the time he was inside he just managed to catch the important bit of Osric's announcement before he reached his seat. The hedge knight sighed in relief before taking a seat of his own, letting his bulk sink back into the wood with a loud 'thud'. "Glad to hear it." Abram looked to Osric with an inquisitive glance. "How did he look?"


@Grey @Teh Frixz @PixelWitch
 
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Lyke


At the mention of praying, Lyke snorts into her bowl sending stew down the wrong pipe and causing a coughing fit. She sends a fist crashing down on the bar in an attempt to deal with it to no avail. Tears start to stream as the coughing becomes outright painful and blocks her throat. Both hands go up to her throat, spoon and bowl dropping down to the ground.


Unable to cough further, Lyke's lips move in swearing pantomime trying their very best to possibly curse the chunk out of her throat with silent epithets affronting basically every major religion.
 
Abram


The Big Black Dog





As soon as he heard the gagging noises Abram immediately turned to look at the source. Lyke's wordless cries threw Abram back into his younger days for a brief moment as he remembered the sight of a large fish gasping for breath on the deck of his father's fishing boat. But the memory passed as he quickly got up from his seat and moved around behind Lyke's place at the table. Without waiting for permission Abram grabbed the shorter woman under her armpits and hoisted her up out of the chair. He then wrapped his arms about the woman's waist and began to squeeze her abdomen in short, hard thrusts. Abram recalled his old drill instructor using this technique on a fellow squire when the lad was trying to eat a basket of boiled eggs on a dare. He could only hope he was doing it properly as he continued to thrust into Lyke's stomach with his muscled arms.


@Teh Frixz @Silvertongued
 
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Lyke


It takes a couple thrusts but with a final burst, Lyke spits up a half chewed chunk of pork with bone still in. She takes deep gasping breaths, forcing the air down her throat. The blue tint vanishes from her face as she starts coughing and sucking down more air. Doubled over, her hands grasp for the bar as she pulls herself back up.


Looking back behind her at the party, she coughs once more before raising her hand to make the widely accepted 'okay' gesture with a rare weak smile.
 
Abram


The Big Black Dog


Abram sighed in relief when he saw the obstruction fly out of Lyke's mouth and heard her breathing properly once again. He let her recover on her own as he took his own seat once again.


Now that the danger was over there was something on Abram's mind that he wanted answered. He looked over to Osric and said, "So... what news from the mayor?"


@Grey
 
Sam - Bathing


When was the last he'd actually had a bath...? Months maybe? Heck he couldn't remember. Was certainly a few seasons ago...


The water was warm too... another bonus. One he hasn't had the luxury of in months either.


He designates two small tubs. One for himself and one for his clothes.


Stripped of anything metal that would rust in bathwater, the hide and leather and linen is dumped unceremoniously into the wash. The water practically goes pitch the minute it touches the surface. He can't help but laugh. Be ten pounds lighter without all this mud and dust...


He sets to work scrubbing himself raw with the brush, getting weeks of mud out of his skin. His hair putting up the most violent fight to be combed, and even when he did get all the soil and bugs out of it, it still resembled an untameable nest. Well, to be fair, that was how it always looked, just a lot shinier and twig free now.


When all the dappled scars on his skin showed up, he knew he'd scrubbed enough.


Clothes came next and luckily hide nor leather nor linen keeps water very long. Scrubbed with the same wiry brush, hung up to dry while he cleaned his nails and washed out his mouth with white vinegar and herbs. It was caustic and it stung, but at least he no longer tasted the ale.


The water was muddy and gritty and stinking by the time he was finished. He carefully poured it outback so as not to cause a fuss.


He was right... he really did feel ten pounds lighter.
 
Osric Silkhand





The exile sits heavily at the table and takes a long draught of his ale before replaying, with a wave of his hand.


"Plenty of work. Dangerous work. Managed to talk the bursar into paying us better than he realizes," he says, spooning up some stew. "We'll not discuss it here, though."
 
Abram


The Big Black Dog





Abram nodded at Osric's news, glad that they had not traveled so far to be met with no work. He let the issue go for now as Osric suggested, no reason to announce such things out in the open.


With their prospects settled and Darius accounted for Abram felt it was high time he took that wash. He took his poleaxe and left his seat, trudging steadily up the steps to the washroom they had rented for the night. He saw the door was closed and, given that Sam wasn't with them at table, guessed he was inside the room right now. Abram couldn't help but wonder if he'd recognize the boy when he came out of the wash. Sam was so rustic he sometimes thought he saw a fine cloud of dust follow the lad around wherever he stepped.


Abram rapped three sturdy knocks against the door and spoke through the wood, "Sam, ye in there?"


@PixelWitch
 
Sam


The newly scoured urchin appears at the door, dressed only in his trousers, but now beaming, both in manner and appearance, "Hello friend, room is free now,"


He patters back into the room, collecting his clothing from the lines, "I will being out of ways soon,"


He throws on his shirt, hastily covering the vicious ragged white lines that laced his shoulders and back and his boots before bowing profusely, "Sorry for of times keeping late, was enjoyment of me,"


... at least his syntax was getting better.
 
Lyke


Drawing the long knife kept in her belt, Lyke drops to the floor. On her hands and knees she crawls around while Osric and Abram exchanged words. Abrams clomping boots catch her eye while she continued her search for the offending piece of meat that had wronged her so.


Exclaiming with a harrumph, Lyke spears the meat before rising up from under a table. Briefly she exchanges a glance with Osric before gnawing off the meat left on the bone and tossing it aside.


Ever so casually she slides over and sits down across from Osric to await a drink of her own. Tapping once on the table she gestures at him. Pointing at herself, the exiled noble, the pair upstairs and in what she assumed was the general vicinity of the others. She then does the generic shoveling motion before looking up questioningly while shrugging.
 
Osric Silkhand





"Can't say yet, Lyke," he says, after a moment to try and digest her gesticulations. "Later, in one of the rooms."
 
Sam


The scruffy young man made his way downstairs once more, suddenly finding himself very, very tired.


"Of paying for rooms, or sleeping in stable is me?" he hazards to the rest of the group, yawning with uncomfortably large teeth.
 
Lyke


Throwing her hands up in exasperation, Lyke settles back into the chair with her fingers looped around the half filled mug. A sour expression creeps across her face, Lyke's eyes rolling nearly audibly before settling on Sam.


She'd been around various mercs and dregs for a while now, but this living mop of hair took the cake. At least with most of the company, their skills were advertised. Sam just didn't match.


She snaps with her free hand, pointing at Sam. There is a pause, Lyke trying to figure out how to get around this language barrier. She points at him again, pulling at the skin of her arm before playing with a lock of her hair.


There was an obvious difference between Her and Sam, Lyke just trying to get him to explain where he was from and what he was.
 
Osric Silkhand





Osric pauses with his mug halfway to his mouth, squinting at Lyke, then takes a deep draught and sighs, folding his arms to watch.
 
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