"You're telling me that you have no trade? What is it that you normally do to make ends meet? What is you regular occupation?"
It should be evident to anyone at this point that Zarr's completely oblivious attitude was testing the patience of the gate guards.
Meanwhile, Miroslaw managed to act with some courtesy and was met with kind. The guard he approached seemed stressed and rubbed at his temples, but took a breath and managed to smile in reply.
"I'm sorry sir, we're rather backed up today. It's market day and and recent incidents has us screening all coming and going from Wistvale. I'm going to suggest you go about your business, as I can't have you in the way. Sorry."
Nope, no trade... Zarr takes any type of job to get around, mainly jobs others can't take and that pay good. It is really not a regular ocupation, unless its fighting in the front lines of wars. We Sorens know how to fight... It is in our blood. There has been no wars lately, so Zarr has taken many jobs.
He began to look around the room once again, seeming bored from the questioning.
Miroslaw had nearly forgotten about deducing why the Sentinels seemed so on edge. Those criminals really have them worked up. Sensing the guards stress, he really found no need to contribute to it. He maintained a polite smile responding, "Ah, I see. Not a problem, sir. I will just continue waiting. Just wanted to check up is all." With that, Miroslaw made his way back to the stand against the wall, making certain he was out of the way of the traffic.
Last Edit: May 14, 2014 22:50:26 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
The guard rubbed his eyes, thought for a moment and then continued to write.
"So, mercenary then. And you'd be best to head to Highever if you're after war, there's plenty of conflict to fill your purse.
I might suggest you consider registering with the Sellswords Zarr, if your only trade is violence. You won't find Wistvale very comforting for new vagrants in these times.
Lastly, you need to declare any imported goods and weaponry before you can proceed."
He stood up and grabbed his two rather large axes and held them to his sides taking a good look at them.
These here are my weapons. And I have no imported goods I suppose.
Placing his axes to lean onto the desk, he searched into his pockets for anything else he could find in them, but it was all he carried other than his throwing axe.
Perhaps the Captain had found some reserves of patience. Zarr was a simple oaf, but the guard had plenty else to do without dealing with simpleton new to the 'big city'.
"Leave your weapons at home, don't wander at night and above all else, show courtesy to the guard. They're here to do a job and it's my understanding, you were somewhat difficult earlier. You'll find Wistvale will treat you much how you treat it. Get out of line and someone will put you back in.
And I'm quite sure you're tired of being told to get in line already. Understood?"
He said nothing else as he nodded his head in agreement. It had been a long day and he already wanted to get out and find a place to rest for the night.
Zarr began to grab his axes as he hoped to be let free soon. These guards seemed pretty strict, and he did not know what was going on in the town to make them so jumpy. He guessed he would find out soon enough.
After being let loose back into Wistvale, Zarr looks around thinking of where to go now that he was free again when he notices the other Soren by the wall. He was pretty shocked he waited so long for him, but very happy he did.
Oy!... Are you still up for that drink lad?
Zarr walks towards him, extending his arm out to greet him with a huge smile on his face. With all the frustration from going through the interogations with the guards, seemed to have been forgotten now that he saw his fellow kin.
A smile came to Miroslaw's face as he finally saw the Soren he had been waiting for was free. Hopefully, he learned something from this experience. Biggest thing being, this is not his home in the North. Miroslaw remembered it being a difficult lesson to learn when he first made the journey. Hearing the question he scoffed in a joking manner, "I didn't wait all this time for nothing." He grasped the extended hand, which, for once, was not small. "Names Miroslaw Zygmunt. Nice to see a fellow Soren down here."
Last Edit: May 19, 2014 17:28:32 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Zarr Dragant. Tis great to see a fellow Soren down here. It truly is. Tell me, where can we get something good to celebrate such a great moment around here?
He gave Miro a strong hold of his arm as he spoke. It was not a test of strength but a sign of trust among Sorens. He had never seen or met Miro before, but he felt like he had known him for years. Still happy with their encounter Zarr let go of Miro's arm and extended it out towards the road in front of them.
Miroslaw returned the familiar, but odd firm arm grab with a chuckle. "I know the perfect place. Best ale, though a bit different from what you are use to. Cheap food too, if you are hungry." Then, he led the way to his favorite tavern.
It was a fairly run down place by the looks of it called the "Murky Giant's Grogshop". It was the name that originally drew Miroslaw to enter such a place, though the name was misleading. There were no giants except the ones that were about to enter. "Don't be fooled by the outward appearance." he said, chuckling as he entered.
Upon stepping inside, the atmosphere was surprisingly splendid. It was filled to the brim with people, a less redeeming quality for Miroslaw's taste. However, the service was always lightning fast, the ale always poured with a perfect head, and glasses always clean.
He immediately went to the bar where he saw two chairs were empty. He waved over a wench, "Some of your fine ale. And, please, keep it coming!" He found himself drinking much too often lately, but worried little of it.
Last Edit: May 19, 2014 17:45:49 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
At the sound of the word "food", Zarr's stomach gave a rather loud growl as a response to Miro asking if he was hungry.
Zarr can eat a whole horse right about now.
The long journey he had made was starting to be worth it. Upon entering the tavern and seeing it packed, it was pretty obvious as to why Miro came here along with all these other people. The service seemed great as the wenches were walking all over the place taking food and drinks to everyone. He walked over to the bar and sat next to the other Soren. After Miro placed his order, Zarr raised his hand to place his.
And your best meal for a Soren! Hahaha! Zarr is hungry!
Miroslaw couldn't help but chuckle at the question. He found it a very funny thought, an antisocial Soren such as himself working in such a bustling tavern. Responding through his chuckling, "Nope. Don't work here. Just really enjoy the ale." After receiving his mug of ale quite quickly, he takes a swig before returning a question, "So, what brings a fellow Soren from the Northern Lands?"
Last Edit: May 20, 2014 16:23:53 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Once his food arrived, he placed an arm over the wench's shoulder and pointed over to Miro's ale.
Zarr wants some of that too.
He looks at her with a smile and then turns arround to answer Miro's question before feasting down on his meal. Zarr took a moment to ponder on his response.
Well lad, at my age, one only wants to find a descent place to rest and die on. I've lived a long life of fighting, lost many friends along the way... and family...
The Soren gets lost in his own thoughts for a few seconds before realizing he did so and then takes a bite from his chicken leg.