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((Post No.5; Oh, Mister Arnold...))


~Happenings in the Hemp Necktie Inn, the 24. Ronas 75~


* Borgate Northoff shouts across the room towards the door: *
You! Yes! You! We need to talk a little!
* He patiently awaits to be approached, continuing with lowered voice: *
There is a brawling contest in the coming days… and a certain someone has donated
a reward if you`d parttake… Only parttake… And make it out alive and free!
…
This could be a great chance to maybe… restore some honour you`ve lost due to recent personal actions.
Even if it was under covered identity.
…
If you wish, you can be served now...
We have some delicious steak meals for you and these of you…



((Simply write PM if Borgate has some spoken message for me, especially if you are in urgent need of food.
Your username will be treated by great respect and i will let you know first whether my family is trying to track you down!
Have fun! See you online!))

A brawny man staggers into the tavern, clad in nothing but dirty, ragged furs around his loins. His face and broad, bare chest are wrapped in bandages soaked in a herbal paste of some indiscernible kind, covering the grizzly burns of magical fire which mar his body. His blue eyes glare across the room, burning with maddening anger and anguish. He breathes slowly and heavily, barely able to carry the crude axe which rests on his shoulder, as he approaches Borgate who calls the wildman over to the bar counter.

Having heard what the dwarf had to tell him, Arnold scornfully snarls through gritted teeth, visibly in pain from his injuries:

"Restore my honour? Ksh, what do craven townsfolk who hide behind a woman's skirt know of honour? To think that of all those gathered there only one dared to face me. She looked like one of my people. She must have been, for she had the heart of a true Norodaj; even though she was but a woman, she fought fiercely like a shieldmaiden. Now she feasts in Malachín's stronghold among her ancestors."

Arnold gasps, gnashing his teeth in an attempt to hide his pain, and takes a moment to regain his composure before continuing:
"I regret nothing that I've done. I only regret that I didn't return here with that elfess's head. Accursed elves and their wicked magic. I hope she succumbed to her wounds after I fell."

The barbarian can't suppress a defeated sigh. "Be it armed or unarmed, I am not one to turn down a challenge to a fight, dwarf, but not like this."

Arnold turns away and pulls from a pouch a leaf of sibanac, chewing it to numb the pain of his burns as he limps outside and disappears into the depths of the woods.

"I will be back."

((Post No.6; No more honey))
~Happenings in the Hemp Necktie Inn, the 24. Ronas 75~

* Children play marbles under tables.
Below the counter close to Borgate there is a grin in the gloom and a whisper. *

„Keeping pride for honour will be payed with bones in the mill of the paling maiden…
Whou`a you to chose for your people like this, walking your world that has, and never be again.
See what we have for you, before you judge your tribe for eternity.

The herbs are good and the donf will do if you wet it on one side…
. . . sorry no buckets in the first delivery. . .“


* White bird up in the sky as you leave, to be seen whether you have, or not have packed. *


She asks the barman: „With or without honey tonight?“

*He looks down on her with a very forlorn smile, awaited for decades and speaks.*
„No more honey, never again dear, this time it was Sugarcoats. . .“

*She almost swallows her tongue as she gasps.*
„Sugarcoats?“
*She lays her hand on her mouth to hide it in the dark and feels ashamed in a rush of very satisfying conclusions.*


* White bird up in the sky as you travel from the Inn, to be seen for a while before it glides southward and then west. *





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