Post by Arturos on Jul 30, 2013 12:11:26 GMT -5
"Never look a gift bard in the mouth," his father had often said. Or perhaps it was a gift horse he had spoken of. It mattered not to Arturos Castile, a dark-haired sell-sword from the City of Jhelom. He found little difference between a bard and a horse, as long as they were freely given. For he always appreciated gifts and tried never to count their teeth, unless some necessity required appraisal.
This particular horse had introduced himself as Judas D'arc, a bard who was unknown to Arturos. When he first entered that tavern, all weary-eyed and disheveled of clothing, the sell-sword barely paid him any attention. Once this bard began to buy his drinks, they became the fastest of friends, freely exchanging their tales and jests and laughter. After Judas presented him with certain documents, the mood was irrevocably soured. Until his explanations brought only further confusion.
"Why offer such a thing," a puzzled Arturos inquired, "to a man who is only a stranger?"
"It is simple," the bard replied with a slight smile. "You owe me a large sum of gold, and I owe you a kindness. And you might even prove yourself reliable and trustworthy, if given the chance."
He paused to contemplate this proposal with all the effort he could muster. This Judas had recently inherited an Emerald Trading Company of Britain, but he was as interested in business as the sell-sword was at plucking the strings of a lute. His choice for a new manager both made sense and did not -- perhaps there was tricky or desperation at work -- but Arturos recalled his father's advice regarding gifts and bards and horses. There was also Renna to consider. Gold had been scarce since the riots and Blackthorn's coronation, which was how the sell-sword had incurred the aforementioned debt. While both siblings had chosen their mother's path as warriors, there were deviations in their thoughts and approach. His sister was far more direct in needing something to hit, and Arturos had no intention of dying as their parents had, in pursuit of silver serpent oil or elven ear muffs or whatever it was their father's latest and final scheme had been.
And so he could not refuse this unexpected opportunity.
This particular horse had introduced himself as Judas D'arc, a bard who was unknown to Arturos. When he first entered that tavern, all weary-eyed and disheveled of clothing, the sell-sword barely paid him any attention. Once this bard began to buy his drinks, they became the fastest of friends, freely exchanging their tales and jests and laughter. After Judas presented him with certain documents, the mood was irrevocably soured. Until his explanations brought only further confusion.
"Why offer such a thing," a puzzled Arturos inquired, "to a man who is only a stranger?"
"It is simple," the bard replied with a slight smile. "You owe me a large sum of gold, and I owe you a kindness. And you might even prove yourself reliable and trustworthy, if given the chance."
He paused to contemplate this proposal with all the effort he could muster. This Judas had recently inherited an Emerald Trading Company of Britain, but he was as interested in business as the sell-sword was at plucking the strings of a lute. His choice for a new manager both made sense and did not -- perhaps there was tricky or desperation at work -- but Arturos recalled his father's advice regarding gifts and bards and horses. There was also Renna to consider. Gold had been scarce since the riots and Blackthorn's coronation, which was how the sell-sword had incurred the aforementioned debt. While both siblings had chosen their mother's path as warriors, there were deviations in their thoughts and approach. His sister was far more direct in needing something to hit, and Arturos had no intention of dying as their parents had, in pursuit of silver serpent oil or elven ear muffs or whatever it was their father's latest and final scheme had been.
And so he could not refuse this unexpected opportunity.