• PM To Join • Bill and the flying bar stool

Caius meets Zane

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• PM To Join • Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Zane » Tue Dec 26, 2017 5:50 am

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32nd of Zi'da, arc 717

"Fek is it cold outside!" The man yelled out as he closed the door behind him, moving straight towards the wooden bar by which Zane was already seated. He seemed agitated, annoyed and irritated in every way possible, and thus the young skyrider deduced his trial must have been going terrifically well. The boy simply smiled and brought his hands, along with the pockets they were buried in, closer to his skin, to protect himself from the chilly wave that entered the room. He had only been in the tavern for a small amount of time himself, and thus was waiting for his mind to decide which alcoholic drink he should get first. After glancing at the big, rough-looking fellow that was about to sit next to him, Zane retreated his deep stare back towards one of the bottles of wine that stood in an open cabinet on the other side of the bar. Was it a wine night though? It certainly didn't feel like it, it felt more like a mead night, at least according to his stomach. Yes, he could use some mead, the boy decided as he opened his mouth to inform the bartender of his decision. And yet, someone else's words filled the room. They were loud, unattractive sounds that echoed in your ears and would leave you afraid if you heard them in a dark alley. "Oy kiddo. That's me spot right there." The mountain of a man said, his tiny moustache playing angrily on his face as he did. Zane knew one thing, and one thing alone in that very moment, and that was that he wouldn't move for the fat bastard to sit. He really wasn't feeling all that well, and moving to an idiot like this round-faced chap was not on his agenda.

"Eh Bill. The kid was here first, leave 'im alone." Answered a clever-looking man that hid behind his cloak and straw hat, that sat on one of the barstools just next to Zane. He clearly knew the mountain, and wasn't afraid of him, but judging by their size alone, and the fact that all weapons had to be left outside the tavern, he should've been. Still, Zane applauded courage, even if it was stupid, reckless fearlessness, mostly because he himself had that trait. If the man didn't say it, he would've said it, and thus the boy simply smirked and kept looking in front of him, paying no mind to Bill or the clever-looking fellow, instead moving his hand to signal the bartender. He wanted his mead, and he would get it, even if he had to somehow fight the mountain. Zane wasn't particularly good at fighting, and yet he wasn't afraid of losing either, and he knew that if he only waited and didn't initiate a conflict, the rest of the inn would be on his side. He'd been in several bar fights before, the first time being when he was five, when he broke a bottle of wine on some douchebag's knee, just for throwing a fist at his father. If the skyrider had to guess, he would've thought that not being the fighting type ran in his genes, considering his mother preferred using words over weapons, as did his father.

"Oy. Kiddo. My seat." Bill continued, paying no mind to the cloaked figure who had now gotten up from his seat. It was about to happen, Zane thought as the mysterious man tapped the obvious one on the shoulder, suggesting he wanted his words to be properly addressed. In the blink of an eye, the mountain's fist was on its way to the mysterious man's face, and the man's foot had moved back to avoid getting himself punched. The punch did, in fact, miss, but the argument was far from over. In fact, it had only just evolved into a fight. The second punch was, however, aimed at the cloaked man's gut, and he had no chance of dodging it, so he tried to soften the blow with his hands, which only made the mountain push further, adding enough force in his hand to knock the smaller figure up and backwards. Zane noticed this, and realized that there was no avoiding the fight now that one of them suffered his first bruises. He didn't hesitate, and thus grabbed the yet to be opened bottle of wine from the bar and moved his hand around his body, turning his hips on the chair, only to slam the glass into the back of the big guy's head. If only his hair wasn't dark, there could've been some blood seen, and on this note, several other gentlemen stood up and joined the fray.

Zane got hit several times, once even in the head, before the real show began, and the mountain lifted a barstool high into the air only to lower it straight onto one of the new guys' head, probably making a crack in his skull. The cloaked man couldn't stand for this, so he threw himself onto the mountain, and they both fell on top of a table by which a relatively nice-looking fellow had been sitting. The poor guy really didn't deserve this, in fact, he didn't look like the sort that would usually be in a tavern at this time. Perhaps he needed a distraction from his trial-to-trial life, or perhaps he had just moved there. But before the boy could deduce what exactly had been the case, he could feel himself getting grabbed by the stomach, and being thrown onto the table on top of which two men had already been. How nice of the fellows, to give the nice-looking man, who was certainly from an upper class of citizens, a chance to experience what the commoners went through at least weekly. He would surely value this experience, and tell this story a thousand times over during some gathering with his family.
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Caius Gawyne » Thu Dec 28, 2017 12:39 am

"So, now that they've outlawed magic, Caius, do you think it's only a matter of time before Immortal worship is next?" Halit smirked, his grey eyes watching the northern noble carefully, hands wrapped comfortably around the cool stoneware of his mug of mead. The other student's tanned skin and dark hair by appearance alone made him the other man's opposite, though the Biqaj and the young Gawyne both shared the trait of shifting color irises and a need for far too cerebral conversation over alcohol.

"Like sarding Etzos?" Next to him, Lly'en laughed into her glass of wine, the Sevir not interested in chasing the trail of this conversation any farther than necessary, aware that it had been hard enough to get Caius out of the library, out of his room, and away from the blonde Venora that had him so distracted. Darcy was working, playing piano, and their friend wasn't printing at the Gazette or researching for Professor Verigan, so the pair of them had convinced him, cajoled him, dragged him away from everything forcibly to get out and have a good time.

It had been difficult, to say the least.

Halit wasn't sarding helping with his coy questions before Caius was at all sufficiently intoxicated to make his answers entertaining. Instead, the northern noble snickered, aware that his Religion classmates had no sarding idea how close he'd been to the face of the Lord Inquisitor himself, had no clue of his experiences on the trial magic was banned for good. The young Gawyne sighed, emptying the last warm remnants of his mug and rolled his eyes at his seafaring friend,

"What the Immortals do amongst men like us and what a spark does to a mortal's existence are two quite obviously different things and you sarding know it. I mean, if things keep going the way they are and no one bothers to educate the masses, then, sure, what's the difference to the ignorant? Nothing. You're not even a Rynlist, Halit, so are you just baiting me?"

"You're not drunk enough, seq'at."

"Eja’yoama. No, I'm sarding not—"

"Listen to you, Lord Gawyne. By Moseke's mossy ass, she's really got you." Lly'en smiled in a sweet but wicked way, though her gaze drifted past the young Gawyne's shoulder, toward the bar where a conversation between three patrons was going downhill quickly, "Doesn't she?"

Caius bit his lip, irises fading into the palest of blues, beginning to wonder if this was some form of drinking game turned relationship intervention. He heard the commotion building behind him and turned to look, scowling, before looking back at his friends with a chagrined, uncomfortable laugh, he raised his narrow shoulders in a shrug, "Got me? Is that a Xanthean metaphor? As in: I'm a beast to be caught in a trap, Lly'en? Yes, then. Sarding yes. Perhaps a little, but I assure you, I'm very willing prey."

Halit's laugh was a hearty guffaw, one that shook his entire leanly muscled, broader-shouldered body. He set his mug down and raised both hands, about to make a very lewd comment when out of nowhere a large man's body crashed into their table, still in the grip of a man in a cloak, and everything beyond them exploded into what was obviously a sudden bar fight.

Hissing a string of expletives, the young Gawyne paused for a moment, the struggle unfolding practically in their laps, separated only by the sticky tabletop which groaned under the weight of the mountainous man and his attacker, and before he began to stand and get out of the way, a third man, younger, beaten a bit, and perhaps the most volatile of the trio was thrown on top of the two antagonists as if just for good measure,

"Fekking taverns." Caius growled, silver eyes darting to his friends as they all stood just in time for the table to collapse beneath the weight of the pile of struggling, fighting men on top of it. As the wood gave way, a meaty arm shot out and snatched at whatever was closest, which, in this case, happened to be the violet brocade vest of the northern noble, Bill's dirty fingers curling into the fine fabric and yanking the Lord toward the floor with him.

The cloaked man struggled, sandwiched between a boy who was barely a man and a mountain who was too much of one, twisting and attempting to shove Zane up, accidentally shoving the youth toward Halit, who was already grinning and shifting his sea-built body into a stance well-prepared for hand-to-hand combat. Lly'en had backed away just enough, but when she saw the young Gawyne pulled to his knees by the falling bodies, she chucked her now-empty glass in the general direction of Bill and shouted above the din of chaos that now filled the tavern,

"Let him go!"

Caius grit his teeth, the cloaked man's foot shoving off his leg on his way downward in his own attempt to stand once he'd shoved the youngest combatant off of himself, eliciting a growl of discomfort even as his own ink-stained hands reached up to wrap around the wrist of the mountainous human that gripped his vest, Bill using him as a stable force while he turned from facing the ground to facing upward, swinging his huge, other elbow into the cloaked man and narrowly missing the young Gawyne's face.

Wasting no time, the printer's diri twisted his body under the other man's strong, beefy grip and bought a bony knee down onto the large man's elbow, bending it in the opposite direction that the joint was at all meant to move, all while turning his head to one side in an honest effort to avoid getting it smashed one more sarding time. Bill howled and released Caius, for he was still focused on the cloaked man and the youth he really wanted to smash into a bloodied mess.

"Well, I think it's time to go—unf—oh for Fate's sake." The mountain of a man elbowed the young Gawyne hard in the ribs as he stood, knocking him back onto the sticky, dirty tavern floor with a grunt. Caius sneered—a well-practiced and painfully noble expression—before he tensed, preparing to shove up from the ground and spring at the larger, tougher, far more experienced man, honestly hoping to at least send him back into the cloaked man or the youth.

Meanwhile, the rest of the tavern was quickly disintegrating, the northern noble not particularly paying attention to his chaotic surroundings even as Lly'en was telling both young men it was time to leave, the Sevir perhaps the only one thinking straight in the moment thanks to her upbringing.

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Caius Gawyne
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Zane » Fri Dec 29, 2017 8:02 am

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Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy. It was all Zane could think about as he flew through the air and onto the man on the table. He had gotten himself way in over his head, and now he could feel regret slowly creeping through the walls of his mind. The young skyrider usually wouldn't regret anything, and simply lived on with his decisions without much trouble, and most likely the same would be the case for this situation, but at the moment, regret was there, and he would have to live with that as well. Slowly, the table underneath them cracked, and all the man of messy hair could notice in those brief moments were the faces of the occupants of the table, which suggested they hadn't seen this coming. To be fair, Zane didn't see this coming either, because usually, bar fights would go on for a couple moments, several punches would be thrown, and then someone would intervene. There didn't seem to be anyone intervening now, so the youth didn't have a way out. Except if he actually ran, which would've tarnished his reputation in this and every other tavern of the city. As if becoming one of the law enforcers didn't do enough harm to his image. He needed to keep his relations with the common folk clean. But that certainly was a topic for another time, he thought as the table finally let go and died, making the three men drop onto the wood on the floor. Soon enough though, he was thrown off into the side, where he barely managed to keep his balance as he rose to his feet, only to go head first into another man, who obviously wasn't pleased with that.

The man, being bigger and more muscular than the youth, had no problems with stating his issues, and even throwing a punch Zane's way, although the younger brown-haired man was quicker than the older one, thus dodging the afore-mentioned punch. By now, most of the tavern was either looking for a way to get out of the bar fight, or fighting someone or something. There was one strange fellow in the corner of the young skyrider's eyes, that was seemingly punching a table as hard as he could, and everyone else seemingly left him be without disrupting his bloodying of his fists. The cloaked man was nowhere to be seen, having most likely fled the event before his face could be messed up even further, but Bill didn't have such luck, as he flew straight towards Zane. The youth had no chance of dodging the giant of a man, thus he simply raised his hands in hopes of softening the blow. Soon though, they were both on the floor, having tripped over some other poor fellow who had fallen onto his knees. The young skyrider, being agiler, had gotten up much faster than Bill, and moved back, towards a wall, as far as he could without touching anyone else.

He wasn't a fighter, he was a lover. Zane enjoyed danger, adventure, and thrills, but he didn't enjoy having a bloodied nose or a black eye, or giving either of those to another person. But alas, one couldn't always do what one wanted to, thus he kicked as fast and strong as he could into Bill's back, throwing him back onto the floor. He wasn't the one that started the conflict, but if he had anything to say about it, he would be the one to end it. The fancy-looking man of unknown origins was now a lot closer to him, being only a foot or two behind the youth, fighting his own battle. "I'm Zane. Nice to meet you." The brown-haired half Aukari said quickly, before dodging yet another punch, trying to seem friendly. He was friendly, essentially, but he tried to seem that way because if he didn't, the learned man might've thought differently. Zane didn't want to have to fight both the finely dressed mixed blood as well as his friends once Bill was knocked out, thus he decided to make sure they understood he was a friend. There was confidence in his voice, unnatural confidence, considering the situation, but such was the boy, fearless and confident even in the worst of moments, and this definitely wasn't one of the worst moments of his life.
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Caius Gawyne » Wed Jan 03, 2018 3:47 pm

"Havakda!" Halit hissed, stepping in front of Caius as another tavern patron came swinging. The wiry Biqaj didn't even raise an arm in defense, catching the terribly swung drunken punch with a smirk, twisting the other man's fist and arm to one side before smashing his own knuckles into the stranger's face. While the drunk staggered back and onto his knees, cursing his broken nose and cursing several other things as well, the Biqaj turned and offered Caius his hand,

"My hero!" The young Gawyne feigned adoration, going so far as to bat his sharp blue eyes at his friend when the dark-haired student helped the noble to his feet, "You just want to be on my father's payroll as my sarding bodyguard."

"If it would pay my tuition, qes." Halit winked, looking for Lly'en to make sure she was still safe. The Sevir had a chair leg and a rightful savage look on her alcohol-flushed face. She was fine for now, "I'd rather just teach you, se'qat—"

Bill fell between the pair of young men, his massive body tripped backwards by a dark-haired youth perhaps a handful of arcs their junior. The young skyrider was quick to his feet and he made sure to place a firm kick against the mountain of the man, who growled and moved to retaliate just as Zane introduced himself to Caius, who blinked, aware that he could have acknowledged the younger man's greeting. He didn't right away, choosing instead to sidestep Bill's angry forward motion as he reached again for the youth, the northern noble sticking a leg in the man's path and making sure to swing a boney elbow at the back of the larger man's head, scowling fiercely.

It was a quick move without as much power behind it as Caius could have accomplished, but Bill was satisfactorily inebriated to fall for the trip, the printer's diri hissing at the mountain's weight. He didn't swing his elbow hard enough but Halit was there in the blink of an eye, showing off with a very fluid downward-arched kick at the same man. The Biqaj thumbed his nose at Zane, studying him with eyes that shifted from a warm hazel to a curious grey,

"This your fault, qat?" He laughed, wrapping fingers around Caius' bicep to begin to tug him in the direction of their Sev'ryn drinking companion as she held her own with her chair leg against another two patrons like the Desnind huntress she was behind the studious facade, the northern noble grinning and tilting his head toward Zane while he stepped backwards, ink-stained fingers shoving sandy blonde hair from his eyes that had once been blue but were now very green,

"Caius," He replied, keeping his grin, "Now's not a fekking good time for introductions."

"Oh, by the Mother, who's your new friend?" Lly'en appeared, arching a slim eyebrow at Zane with a curious huff. The trio appeared to be decent friends, and, for whatever reason seemed quite bent on getting themselves out of the fight even if they were doing a decent job of holding their own.

"Cute, right? Lly'en, Zane. Zane, Lly'en." Caius introduced the two as if he'd known them both for arcs in a mocking of formality, all sarcasm and straight white teeth. While they began to make their way through the tavern toward the door, Lly'en pressed her broken chair leg into the northern noble's too-warm hands as if he would know what to do with it, his saber in the coat room since weapons weren't really good form in a drinking establishment after all, "Do make sure you hire me to print your wedding invitations, darling."

The Sevir shushed him, winking at Zane, her words thick with her Xanthean accent, "Nice to sarding meet you."

"And I'm Halit." The Biqaj introduced himself, letting go of his noble friend to snatch the collar of another bar patron in their way, tossing the man back toward a table, he eyed the younger human curiously, making it obvious by the way he deftly navigated the fight and led his two companions that he knew his way around combat maneuvers and he'd been in more than his fair share of bar fights. Inviting Zane to make his exit with them, he asked with a welcoming air, "You staying, qat?"

Out of the corner of his gaze, the young Gawyne caught a glimpse of the man Halit had shoved headed back towards their little friendship circle in the chaos, so he shifted his grip on the chair leg as if it was his more familiar weapon, his blade, and stepped forward, swinging in a swift and hard arc for the drunkard's face before he could reach for Lly'en, his tone of voice carrying a well-practiced aristocratic feel to it that was impossible to miss, "No you don't, ser. Hands off the lady without her permission."

Off Topic
Rakahi Pidgin Translations
Havakda! = (pronounced ha-FAHK-da) Fuck off.
Qes = (pronounced KAS) Yes
Qat = (pronounced KETH) guy, dude, boy, you (masculine)
Se'qat = (pronounced SEK-eth) cousin, one of us, close friend


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Caius Gawyne
Peace. No matter what the price.
 
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Zane » Thu Jan 04, 2018 6:41 pm

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It seemed like Aelig's circus in there, Zane thought as he scouted the room for a way to exit it as he introduced himself to the others. They didn't seem to want to hurt him, at least not yet, so perhaps he could wiggle out of the fight, riding their tails? A couple of strange words were spoken, probably in Rakahi, the language he was supposed to have learned and yet didn't. It was like most other subjects they taught in school, science, art, all of those things were rather pointless to the boy, and thankfully, they were for his mother too. The woman never really cared about her boy's mental capabilities, at least not more than his physical ones, for she knew that more people would work with their muscle than with their brain in the world. And she was right to think that way, for her boy ended up a soldier. Not a very good soldier, truthfully, considering he couldn't even get himself out of a bar fight, much less win one, but a soldier nonetheless. The man, who the boy quickly noticed was biqaj, thanks to his pointed ears, called him a rather strange word he didn't believe he'd heard before. It was all formal words that he'd known, and not really any that would be used in the middle of a fight, much less a fight over spilt alcohol. However, what he did hear perfectly fine was the man asking him about the causation for the fight. He, certainly, could be the one to blame, having been stubborn and not given up his seat to the bigger man that was now lying on the floor.

By the Mother, the woman said, making the boy deduce, like the greatest detective ever that he was, that the woman was not a rynlist, and therefore wasn't raised in Rynmere. Sure, he wasn't a rynlist either while being raised in Rynmere, but if one were to overlook that fact, then it would be perfectly noticeable that she was actually raised in Ne'haer, the hometown of the biqaj race, because she was, much like her too friends, obviously another biqaj. Except the biqaj worshipped U'frek, and she said mother, not father. The whole theory inside the young man's mind was quickly falling apart as he took a closer look at the woman's face. He suddenly stopped thinking, and he knew, he was in love. Hadn't he not drank anything this night? Or was that the last night that he went through sober? But even if he was drunk, love cared for no boundaries, and it was certainly love that he felt.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, good lady." He would say with a slight bow, tripping a running man on his heel as he moved his foot backwards. Just as he turned around to look at the mess he'd made of the running man's drink, he noticed the woman's introduction. Her words were blunt, like a mace hitting his heart and shattering his ribs, and they were dirty, like his skin covered with...well, dirt. Finally, the last of the trio introduced himself as Halit, and Zane nearly forgot to look at him, from being so enchanted by the sev'ryn's appearance. It was just something about her, the way she stood and handled herself, and the way she knocked him off her thoughts as she turned around and made her way towards the door, that made him think she didn't care for him at all. Well, the young man of messy hair liked a challenge, and if she wanted to challenge him, so be it. He paid no mind to Halit or Caius as he moved behind them, not noticing the use of the strange word qat once again. All he cared for was the fair maiden, and winning her heart. Except he couldn't exactly buy her a drink now that they were leaving the bar, so he would have to find another way of courting her.

As they opened the wooden door and exited the building, stepping into the Zi'da air like a child that threw itself into the cold ocean at a beach, Zane shivered. His coat wasn't all that warm, and his shirt was better off staying away from his body than on it, but he quickly strengthened himself and decided to brave the cold to hopefully impress the beautiful woman. She, of course, had to have a rich man's attire, much like her two friends, and the boy deduced at least one of them must have been of richer origins. The thought of her being a noble went through his mind, but he'd never learned of any historical nobles named Lly'en, and nobles usually were named after their ancestors, thus the most logical one of the trio to be a noble was Caius. There were no pure biqaj nobles, after all, thus Halit was immediately excluded.

"So, what might cause a gorgeous maiden, a noble, and their martially inclined companion to be in a tavern as stinkful as this one, if I may be so bold as to ask?" He said, not realising stinkful was probably not a word in common, as he gently made his way next to the sev'ryn. His question was mostly aimed at her, but he also expected an impressed look from the two males, considering he'd managed to figure out all that he did. It wasn't easy, figuring that people dressed as richmen were rich, and a man named after a historical noble was a noble, and of course, a man who knew how to fight was martially inclined. But. Such was the way of the greatest detective ever in the history of time. The only one he couldn't decipher in a moment's notice was the woman, and he desired for her to open up to him, before he started breaking down her walls. After all, relationships were built on mutual trust, and that was what he would have with her, a relationship. Unless she told him to fek off and slapped him as a wake-up call. Either one was possible and probable.
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Caius Gawyne » Fri Jan 19, 2018 2:23 pm

Lly'en allowed herself a giggle, just a short, concise but bubbly affair, her dark eyes narrowing at the young man making a fool of himself in the middle of a bar fight on her account. She was used to idiots, clearly, given the company she kept between Halit and Caius, but, still, a fresh face kept things interesting and she wasn't about to complain. The Sevir followed the three men outside, making sure to leave the bar with a few rude hand signs on the way through the door with one more giggle for good measure.

Halit fell easily into the last man of the group, very tactically covering their exit, one hand finally straying to the dagger at his belt even as Caius rolled his eyes,

"It's just a sarding bar fight—" Zane spoke up and the northern noble laughed, amusement warming his eyes to a bright, verdant green. He rolled his narrow shoulders, studying the younger man for a moment, "Why? Variety, I suppose."

His gaze shifted with the weight of accusation to his Biqaj companion, whose idea the whole evening had been anyway, and the shorter, broad-shouldered man held up his hands defensively, but his tone of voice was clearly joking with his taller, well-born friend, "I just wanted to get you out of the library, my Lord."

Lly'en gave Halit a good punch to the shoulder, rolling her dark eyes before leaning against Zane, wrapping fingers around his bicep with a purr, "We like a bit of danger sometimes, us students. Books and lectures are sarding boring after a while. And you? How often do you fight over a fekking spot at the bar, eh?"

The young Gawyne ran ink-stained fingers over his disheveled clothing, though it really didn't make any difference in the state of his dress. He'd have to pay for everything to be cleaned, but at least nothing was particularly bloodied. He'd paid to get blood out of his clothes for at least a trial too many over the past two seasons. Eventually, someone on campus staff would probably intervene and ask if he was moonlighting in the fighting pits, he ruminated with humor creasing its way into his expression,

"Ze, the ale's cheaper here. Closer to Low-Town and all." Halit chuckled at Zane, watching Lly'en tease him with a more serious expression than his tone implied. Reaching up to rub his chin, he grinned wolfishly, "So which one of us is the noble?"

"Not you." Lly'en snickered at the Biqaj, apparently just as keen on baiting him as she was anyone else, "You're not pretty enough."

"Pretty? Tsu." The dread-locked young man hissed, looking to Caius, "He's not either, but that's just my opinion."

A few other more bloodied folks crawled their way out of the tavern, forcing the four young bodies to step a little further away, a little more into the cold, dark street.

The young Gawyne was laughing, shaking his head and resting his hand on the hilt of his saber, "Please. Zane, is it? I'm the noble, but even I like a few evenings to myself. We're all students, contemporaries, and friends."


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Caius Gawyne
Peace. No matter what the price.
 
Posts: 550
Joined: Wed Nov 01, 2017 7:31 pm
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Medals: 6
Story of the Month (1) First Love (1) Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1) Right In The Feels (2)
First Kiss (1)

Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Zane » Thu Jan 25, 2018 3:50 pm

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What a strange bunch of people, Zane thought. Visiting a tavern way below the level they were used to, surely, simply for variety. It was rather intriguing to the boy, considering this was probably the first time he saw a noble so close to low-town. But what was even more intriguing was the company the noble had with him. It was a beautiful sev'ryn woman, with a tongue as dirty as Zane's face in the middle of Saun, and a biqaj with seemingly no aristocratic connections. They were students, they mentioned, so he guessed it would make sense. Still, it was hard imagining a noble student. Most nobles, Zane imagined, thought they knew more than enough already, that they were given enough knowledge at birth and young ages, and that they shouldn't seek out more. Of course, that was simply what he thought, considering this was probably the closest encounter to a noble he had in his life. As much as he didn't want to give in to prejudice, he was glad the woman that was now teasing him wasn't the noble of the group. She would've been impossible to woo if she was, he guessed, having very little to no experience actually wooing women. Most of them pushed him away after a couple lines, or even just seeing him, but this night, he felt good about it. The boy felt lucky. He would manage a conversation, and hopefully more, even if it was all just a tease by the woman. He actually met a rather teasing woman earlier in the season, but that turned out to be a disaster, mostly because of his drunkenness at the time. He was sober now, or at least he thought he was, and he would succeed. Succeed at what though? What did he want this night to turn into? Did he want to sleep with the woman? Was it too early to think about such things? Internally, he facepalmed rather hard at the thoughts, but externally, he simply chuckled with a confident look on his face, seemingly certain that he had everything in the bag.

"If it were up to me, the fight would have never ensued. I simply move with the current." He said, not making any physical movements to get closer to the woman, letting her make the moves, considering she seemed much more into this game than him, and also rather experienced with it. Zane had attempted to use as fancy words as possible in his short sentence, wanting to impress the knowledgeable individuals before him, not particularly caring about the environment they were in, and completely forgetting that only moments earlier the sevir seemingly let go of all her etiquette and cursed without boundaries. Perhaps they were closer to him than he would've guessed, the boy thought, though the thought went away as they played the game of which one was the noble. Zane high fived himself in his mind as they all came to the conclusion that the mix-blooded man, the one the youngster would've put his money on, was the nobleman. Another case solved and closed in the book of the greatest detective in the history of mortals. Better to not show that book to the sevir, she'd think the number of cases solved was pitiful. You could count it on your fingers. Of one hand. Zane knew that he needed to get on with his detective work, but the bottom of the bottle called to him, it sang to him, like a mermaid to a sailor, drawing his ship into a catastrophe.

Conte-...contempor-...contempraries? Zane thought, struggling to follow the nobleman. What in the world did that mean? He assumed it was positive, perhaps something similar to companions. It was pronounced similarly, so why the heck not. In context, the youth understood what it was supposed to mean, he'd just never heard the word spoken before. He didn't show this off though, as he seemed as calm as ever while Caius said the word. The worst thing he could do was admit in front of a bunch of students, and a noble, that he was barely literate.

"So where does the group of contemporaries head to next? I'm an expert on low budget and low-quality taverns around this part of town, I'd love to show you, and if you'd let me, pay for the first round." That might not have sounded as impressive as Zane thought it would, especially since his eyes were mostly focused on the woman as he spoke. Still, surely they would appreciate his offer to pay for the first round, and forget about his clumsy introduction of his abilities. Hopefully, he wouldn't sit in the wrong spot again. Though, seeing how this night was turning around, perhaps being the cause of that bar fight wasn't the worst thing in the world. He might just get lucky with a beautiful maiden he was falling in love with, after all.
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Once you become FEARLESS life becomes LIMITLESS
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Zane
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Caius Gawyne » Mon Feb 05, 2018 2:53 pm

"You weren't the reason the fight started?" Halit smirked curiously, elbowing Caius with a chuckle. They hadn't quite been paying attention, but the Biqaj had seen enough.

Whether Zane's charm was working or not on Lly'en was somewhat difficult to determine. The Sevir was smiling, but her tone was accented by Xanthean and hard to read. She walked close enough to the young man and seemed curious, chuckling at his response about the bar fight but obviously not entirely convinced that he'd had prevented it if he could have.

Caius shrugged at the question, "Myself? I'm going to head home. One bar fight is enough for me, that's for sarding sure. I've got someone waiting up for me, unlike the rest of you sorry fodsacks—" The noble's grin was taunting instead of wicked, clearly enjoying the joke with his friends and the added bonus of tossing the younger human in there, too, given the way Zane seemed to be flirting with his Sev'ryn companion.

"Smudge, you mean?" Lly'en giggled, teasing, "Oh, Caius, don't look at me that way. She must be quite the woman to have you so distracted, my Lord."

The young Gawyne's two friends laughed then, inviting their friend to laugh with them. He just grinned, chuckling a little, and shook his sandy blonde head, looking back to Zane,

"Please take them and get them very drunk, young ser. You have my permission to leave their sorry arses at the bar when you're finished, to be honest." Caius gave Halit a playful shove before making a face at Lly'en, the three of them obviously close and able to play with each other without real repercussions, the northern noble quite comfortable acting the fool in their presence, far from worried about rubbing shoulders with common folk.

The Sevir turned to Zane then, grinning, "If you're paying, I'm game. Halit?"

"Ze, alright. Caius can walk his noble self home, I'm sure." The Biqaj barked, shaking his dreadlocked head dismissively, "Besides, I'd like to see what corners of Midtown you know that I don't, Zane."

With a bit more small talk, Caius was happy to part amicably from his friends and the other young man, eager to make his way back to his residence on campus and hopefully to find Darcyanna indeed waiting up for him not because he couldn't have stayed out a break or two later but because he had his social preferences in the end and they weren't really as comfortable in a crowd as he pretended.

Offering a parting smile to Zane, he waved at his friends and bid everyone farewell, making his way through the maze-like streets and back toward the University.

Off Topic
Figured it was alright to wrap this up. ^_^


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Caius Gawyne
Peace. No matter what the price.
 
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Bill and the flying bar stool

Postby Aeodan » Tue Jun 12, 2018 4:34 pm

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Name: Caius

Points: 15

Skill Knowledge:
Skill Knowledge:
• Detection: Signs of a bar fight
• Detection: Paying attention to danger even when inebriated
• Etiquette: Proper introductions in combat
• Etiquette: Holding the door for strangers
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Escaping a tight grip
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Using your knees to gain distance
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Using your height to your advantage
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Elbows as weapons


Non-Skill Knowledge:
• PC: Zane
• PC: Zane, Not intimidated by a bar fight
• PC: Zane, Invites himself along for the ladies

Loot: N/A
Injuries/Overstepping: N/A
Renown:+5 Detangling oneself from a barfight
Collaboration: No.
Magic EXP: Ew. Never.


Comments: First off, the Rakahi Pidgin Off-Topics are the best. "Havakda means Fuck Off." HAHAHAH. I love it.

I really liked Zane as a PC, and I bet that he and Caius would have had a strange and weird friendship if he'd stuck around. Caius' wordiness here is pretty typical, but I think Zane handled him well.

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Aeodan
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