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Post by Darius Cebrián on Apr 9, 2009 22:51:20 GMT -5
A coin rolled idly between the rough fingers of the Telmarine. His dark gaze centred not on the shiny object but on the remains of what had once been a full tankard of ale, but now contained less than a mouthful of the liquid. The grimy glass object sat on a filthy, dented table in the corner of the room, his free hand resting upon its edge. He did not care about the filth; in fact, he barely noticed it. Just as he did not see how empty his tankard had become. His mind was much, much further away, focused upon a nothingness that had become his companion ever since he had abandoned the sea.
Abruptly, the sailor's head jerked up, looked around warily, having returned to the moment. While the tavern was brightly lit, his position in a secluded corner offered some privacy and some shadow. He sat alone, his legs stretched out beneath the table, his posture one of relaxation, even if he was anything but. One could not be cautious enough in such a place; it was all too easy to get one's throat cut, although it was much more dangerous in the ports. If there was not a brawl in every tavern every night in a port, then it was considered a quiet night. This was very calm, controlled, in comparison, and yet it carried a sense of much more danger than the ports ever had.
Mostly that came from the knowledge that at any point he might be hauled off for a dawn appointment with the gallows. Any number of people here might recognise him as the pirate that he was. In the ports, no one ever turned anyone in, since most of them were involved in some form of illicit business and so knew that they risked getting turned in themselves. Here, people had no such qualms. For all he knew, any number of the patrons of this tavern could be authorities in disguise. But they could also all be innocent.
Again, his eyes scanned the room, pausing upon people of interest. A woman was selling her services to a pair of men by the bar. A hunter was telling wild stories, stories that grew louder and wilder with every drink that his compatriots pushed upon him. The bar maid dodged the groping hands of drunken men, cleverly telling them off as she went about serving drinks. A man started up with some music in a far corner, but was quickly silenced. One brutish looking man swung a fist at another; other men quickly took advantage of the hit to start their own brawls.
Disgusted with everyones' behaviours, the pirate returned his gaze to his almost-empty tankard and set his coin upon the tabletop. He could afford another drink; it never affected him as it did most men, so it would not bother him the following morning. He raised a hand to get the attention of the barmaid, then stared ino his tankard once again. The noise of the brawl seemed not to bother him. In fact, he barely noted it. For once, he was looking for company of some sort, and yet was not getting any. Just my luck...
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Post by Captain Dagg'or Ardell on Apr 10, 2009 19:55:22 GMT -5
Ahh Beruna... nothing had been the same here since the witch won the battle for Narnia and snow fell once more. Dagg'or could remember the days when he could walk by here seemingly unnoticed but as of late, being Captain to the Queens army he was much recognized and feared to say the least. Not that he wasn't feared as a mere pawn in her game but moving to such high stature had become both a curse and a burden to the rather young man.
He could remember clear in his mind the days when he would walk past and not have a single solitary person even glance his way. The fact hat his left eyes was missing and he now wore a batch instead of a rag proved to be quite a small intimidating factor as well. He was beginning to miss his days of anonymity when all he cared about was searching and finding his beloved baby sister and annihilating any and all who had helped in her capture to begin with.
But times had changed and he was now a rather known authority throughout these parts. Pity, how he could no longer hide int eh shadows he so desperately wished to have enveloped around him. Lowering his gaze and walking through the town many shivered at his presence. He wore the colors of the queen and her very symbol on his chest. At times he wished someone would run him through, should they dare and yet he was aware that most would rather bow than even try to anger the broody and cruel telmarine.
Upon reaching his destination for the night he found himself being greeted by a man that flew out the window on the establishment. Not another brawl... he found himself thinking and missing the fact that a few years back he would probably be starting one instead of ending it as he entered the pub. All eyes on him and the madness seemed to subside. Apparently many of them feared not only the gallows but a quick trip to the dungeons of their much feared queen.
Smirking as he let his one good eyes look them over he made his way to a table and sat own. Taking his or rather her symbols off and smashing them on the table. "Off duty Captain, here so do as you wish and leave me drink in peace." he said calling a maid over for his usual drink of ale. The golden liquid looked real tempting in his tankard and with a quick movement of both arm and wrist he began to swallow the rather satisfying drink.
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Post by Darius Cebrián on Apr 11, 2009 23:57:32 GMT -5
Thunk.
The fresh tankard of ale was deposited on the table in front of him, a bit of the liquid sloshing over the edge and onto the already filthy table. A small hand grabbed the coin that lay upon the table, then the footsteps receded. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of getting the barmaid to come back, to seduce her. No. It might entertain him for a short period of time, but he did not want to bring such attention onto himself at the moment. Company was one thing, but attention was something completely different, something dangerous. While he might not be enemies with the Witch, he was definitely not the best of friends. Only in situations in which he was guaranteed safety would he deal with the Witch, same with the resistence.
It was a good life, he decided as he lifted the tankard up to his mouth. Money flowed like water (well, water wasn't really flowing much at the moment, so more like beer) for both him and his crew. They were becoming rather rich in these trying times, though not rich enough. They were still quite poor, in a way, particularly him. He'd squandered his money on the ship, all of it, and needed some time to build his fortune. This winter would continue for some time, he knew it, and so he'd have more than enough time... As long as he was careful.
A fearful quiet passed over the tavern. Darius lowered his tankard slowly, turning casually to see who had just entered. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, and then he turned back to his table. He knew Dagg'or, the dangerous Captain. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd dealt information to the man on at least one occasion. It would not be a good idea to be seen by the other man, especially considering that he had no new information to give just yet. The best plan would be to make an escape as soon as possible, yet that was unlikely. Leaving now would make it obvious that it was Dagg'or that he was escaping from. Leaving later would be equally as dangerous, as he might be recognised.
Plan B? Simply to sit and watch the tavern. As slowly and casually as ever, he shifted in his seat so that he might keep an eye on the Captain as he drank. It would not be good to be caught off guard by that man. Downright dangerous, he thought as he returned to his drink.
ooc; darn, a bit short... D:
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Post by Captain Dagg'or Ardell on Apr 13, 2009 23:31:44 GMT -5
It warmed him to the core the warm amber liquid that ran down his most wanted throat. Gulping the alcoholic beverage without so much as a stop as a gasp for breath he finished off his beverage and slammed the tankard on the table. He didn't even need to lift a finger before another one was placed in front of his face. In older times he would have smiled and taken it with a grin and a sly comment but not on this day. Today he just wanted to truly forget his woes and just drink until he was so far gone there would be no hope in bringing him back from the brink of sanity.
So giving one look to the rather frail looking waitress he waved her of and began to drink his brand new tankard. Once more th eliwquid felt good but he knew it would take much more than a few tankards of ale to get him to truly forget all the pain and suffering he was forced to inflict on not only men, but women and children as well.
It was the children that hurt hm the most. Such innocence in their teary eyes almost reminded him of the man he once was or would have become should fate had handed him a different set of cards. Sure he would never lay a hand on a child but then again he would never allow anyone to hurt them in front of his gaze either. He could not say the same of their parents and the men that did their best to defend their families.
Father hunted down in their prime made him have flashes of when his family was taken from him as well. Such harsh and grueling times seemed to remind him more and more of his dearest sister that for some reason after all these years he could still remember the way she screamed his name as they slashed his face almost making him completely and utterly blind.
As he brought what was left of the ale to his lips his eye caught an impressive sight before him. Arching a brow he lowered his tankard and turned his full gaze towards a man that seemed to be hiding in the far corner. The face was familiar but not the allegiance. Then again being Captain he was faced with far too many people and names and victims to begin with. But this man did not seem like a victim, by the look of his he seemed like a fiend and a scoundrel someone that he would have gotten along famously with should he not had taken on the queens orders.
Standing from his chair he nodded to the waitress and pointed slightly a the table the man sat on. He then made his way and the girl seemed to follow, two tankards at the ready. Placing the first in front of the man and the other in front of where the captain would be sitting she scurried off to her duties and left them alone. He sat across from the man a small smile on his lips. "You seem vaguely familiar... have my men not threatened you before?" he said his voice low as he spoke but loud enough that he knew the other man would hear.
ooc... So sorry could not resist the POTC reference.
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Post by Darius Cebrián on Apr 17, 2009 20:40:02 GMT -5
It was his first, and most important rule, one that he had - somehow - just broken. Never draw attention to yourself. It was a rule he lived by and a rule that he enforced upon his men. They could not afford to be noticed by Jadis' cronies, nor the resistance. Dealing information was one thing; as long as they kept feeding her stuff, Jadis seemed content to leave them alone. And if she someday grew angry with them? Why, they had a ship now, after all. It would be very simple to float off to some island kingdom and start anew as pirates, sailors, traders, or whatever else suited their fancy. Pirate would be just fine for Darius, but his crew would not like it, of that he was sure.
It was regrettable, the damage he'd inflicted upon the merchants and their vessels. Upon returning to Narnia, he'd hoped to atone for these past wrongs, but the winter had begun all too soon. Most seemed to consider it a terrible thing - all winter, no Christmas - but Darius thought otherwise. It wasn't too much of a sacrifice to make, just as long as they money continued to pour in. The snowy land was a buyer's market, and Darius planned on buying in. Like most sailors, he had little to no family that remained, and so the Witch's control meant little to them. What did they care if the Pevensies were caught, if Aslan were gone forever...
Darius blinked, then returned his attention to the moment. He'd never really thought that Jadis would control Narnia forever, but what if she did? Endless winter, never changing... It didn't seem all too pleasant. He'd have to think on that one some. But for now, there was his drink, and Dagg'or, the dangerous one.
As he knew very well, it was dangerous to get lost in thought, to not pay attention, another one of his personal rules, particularly when faced with Dagg'or. And he was, indeed, faced with the man - was he truly a man any more? - rather suddenly. Darius had been noticed, whether through his careful watching of the Captain or through his skulking in the corner. Those were two things he'd have to remember not to do again, or else he might find himself in deeper trouble than he might be in right now.
The casual posture was still in place, his motions slightly exaggerated, to suggest minor drunkenness. He was, in fact, not at all affected by the drink as of yet, but it often helped when he wished to throw people off-guard. Whether Dagg'or would fall for it or not, that was yet to be seen. The barmaid set down the two tankards and scurried off to wherever she was needed. The large shape - more of a shadow, really, from Darius' perspective, as he blocked much of the light - sat down across from him, allowing him a better look at the Captain. Though he kept up the drunken act, Darius thought quickly. This could become very dangerous very quickly, and he wanted to make sure he had an escape route.
Unsteadily, he pushed himself up into a straighter position, then dropped his forearms upon the table, his hands clasped. To most who lived in the lower classes, it was a sign of peace; a 'look, I have no weapons' gesture, but he doubted Dagg'or would take it that way. Darius had many weapons, as was his custom. After all, were he to carry any less than his usual, he was sure to need the extra. It was mostly, knives he carried, as the sailor was quite proficient with daggers and other such metal objects. But if any of them were needed, then he was already lost. One did not want to anger Dagg'or.
A lazy smile crossed his lips as he replied to the other man's question. "I don't know," he answered slowly. "Depends on who your men are." It was a valid point... had Darius not already known who Dagg'or was. Most people did. Still, it'd be interesting to see what he said.
ooc; woo, POTC!
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