Upon seeing the old Soren put his arm around the wench, he hoped no one assumed he was attacking the woman. Uneasy about it, Miroslaw glanced around, but it seemed no one cared. Perhaps he was uneasy simply because it was something he would never do.
Miroslaw was in the middle of taking a drink as he listened to the Soren's explanation. He near spewed the drink all over at the humor of referring to Wistvale as a descent place to rest and die on. Burying his laughter at the serious nature of the reason, he stated, "Afraid you picked the wrong place for such a thing. Commotion in Wistvale never ceases. Even now, there's a group, The Red Brothers, prowling the streets at night. Probably the reason the guards were all over you at the gates." He took another swig, "But, surely you still have plenty of years for adventuring in a new land."
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 looked down at his chest and arms. At first one would think he dropped some food or drink on himself, but then he looked back at Miro.
There's nothing red about Zarr. Why would they think that?... And yes! There are many years left in Zarr. Enough to take a full army with him to hades! Hahaha!
He took another bite from his food when his mug arrived and he then began to drink out of it.
So what does a Soren like yourself do around this town to make some coin?
Miroslaw almost always wore his armor and, at least, his claymore. This was no exception.
"I am a blade for hire. I help people out, so long as they pay me. There are boards around town where people post flyers if the need my assistance. Here in Wistvale..." His gaze goes to Zarr with an odd smile on his face, "I cant say I have trouble putting food on my table." He grabbed his mug of ale taking another drink. "And you? I assume you will be making your living in a similar way?"
It was a fairly easy assumption. Soren who were experienced in fighting were often lacking in other expertise outside of that. Miroslaw saw it as potential for a partnership. Not many would be eager to stand against two Soren here in the south.
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.
A blade for hire ey?.... One of the guards told me about them also. It is surely sounding very tempting.
He finishes his meal with a large bite and then stands up raising one axe over his head. The Soren had just arrived to Wistvale that same day, but he felt like he had an opportunity at becoming a mercenary.
Miroslaw knew Zarr was probably talking of the Sellswords. It was a misunderstanding for sure. One again, he chuckled at the his new Soren friend's antics. Hanging an ax over his head in a tavern could turn ugly, if anyone wants to challenge a man twice their size.
"Ah. You must mean the Sellswords? I am not with them. Go about the same work, just on my own. They are a lot lacking in any honor. Not really my style." He shrugged and took another drink of his ale. "They take a portion anyways, though they usually get higher paying jobs. At least, that's my understanding."
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 kind that will stab someone in the back for a bit more coin." He stated with a nonchalant shrug. "Although, it could just be my experiences with them, which have been a bit limited. You are free to make you own conclusion though. Don't let my words be your judgement."
Truth be, Miroslaw only had one experience with them. It was a hectic one that tested his own moral grounds more than anything else. Thinking back, he couldn't help but realize how long it had been since that journey. And he had yet to seek out the friend he made.
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 shook his head in disbelief. Were the Sellswords really the kind to kill one another for more money? It did make sense if you thought about it. The type of jobs given to the first one that completes it gets all of the reward, which would only make everyone fight each other for it. He was starting to have second thoughts about joining them now.
Hmm... Well that is not good. Did you kill anybody for that? I can't believe they would turn on each other like street dogs.
"Not so certain each other as much as a client. Simply put, they are mercenaries. They do what they are paid to do. If someone offers them more money to do something else, well... they do that. But, as I said, you are free to make your own conclusions. My views are a bit skewed."
Miroslaw waves his hand as if to dismiss the talk of the Sellswords. "Enough of this though. We are celebrating your arrival to Wistvale!" He throws up his drink for a cheers and say, "May your time here be prosperous!"
Anytime Miroslaw was witnessed proposing a cheers, he was already, at least, partially intoxicated. He would never subject himself to so many eyes without being under the influence or with some other motive. It was a rare sight to behold.
Last Edit: May 22, 2014 15:07:16 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.
Seeing that Miro no longer wanted to talk about the Sellswords, he raised his mug at the younger Soren. It made him happy that he had found a friend already and was celebrating his arrivale. He stood up once Miro finished speaking.
Aye!! And yours too my good lad!
Here is to having many adventures together, and showing our enemies not to mess with us Sorens!!
He was beginning to have trouble remaining still standing up as it was apparent he had a few beers in him already. His legs were a bit tipsy now.
Miroslaw clinked glasses with the wobbly Soren. It had been some time since he enjoyed himself as much as this. Perhaps it was simply being in the company of one of his kind, or perhaps something else. He was almost more inebriated than he had been in a long time. Regardless, he chugged down the liquid before slamming it on the bar counter in front of him. Shortly following, he made the motion of ramming his fist into his stomach, seemingly forcing out a very noisy belch.
He turned to the old Soren with a question, "So, there are some rooms with larger beds across the way. Still too small, but better than sleeping on one meant for a Human." Miroslaw learned all to quickly upon his arrival in Wistvale so long ago that things around these parts are not build for Sorens. Any bit of back ache he could save an old man was a favor he wished he'd received back in the day.
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 old Soren nodded to Miro. It was great that his fellow kin was looking out for him. It would have had been a horrible night if he had to sleep on a human's bed. Ay! That is good to know lad! Maybe I should make my own business and build things bigger for us Sorens around these parts. I wonder if I'd make some decent money on that.... oooooor bashing heads for gold sounds good too!
He continued to enjoy Miro's presence as he did not stop drinking. At times he would shake his head to try and get a better view of things since the room was beginning to move around him.
As much as Miroslaw wanted some fitting furniture, he let the Soren know he should stick to head bashing, "Probably wouldn't get too much business for Soren sized stuff around here. You know... lack of Soren and all. We should do some jobs together! Two Soren would be a fearful sight to most around here! Sight alone could probably finish a job, send the foes running!" He bellowed out some laughter at his own humor. Miroslaw was getting boisterous after so much booze. The loudest he will ever be is under the effects of alcohol, and this was the drunkest he'd been in a very long time.
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.
After a few hiccups, Zarr then realizes something that just sounded good in his head. Alcohol always seemed to bring out the best ideas out of the old Soren.
What if?... What if we opened our own place for people who need the muscle. I'm sure we are capable of doing just about anything together with our strength combined.
His eyes got lost looking at the ceiling as he pictured it in his mind. The large smile upon his face was proof that he was happy with the idea and he fantasized how their names would be widely known across the lands.
It was an interesting idea when booze was clouding the judgement of those discussing it. Miroslaw probably would not have even entertained the idea in the slightest if it were not foe being inebriated.
"An interesting thought. Two Soren mercenaries... But, where to make our base of operations?" He stated as if genuinely trying to think of a place.
The first place that came to mind was his shack. In his mind, his shack was much better looking than it actually was. Then he thought about a simply stand, like selling of produce, but instead selling their services. Both of these ideas were somewhat ridiculous, but they didn't seem it in his current state.
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.