Tags
@wandering_giraffe !
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"I hate the Kilanthro's," the one man said, stuffing his mouth full of pan friend potatoes. "And the North. You know what the norther's problem is?" he went on, picking up his knife and beginning to cut into his third layer of steak.
Two men sat at a table, the inn was quite small- with a quaint tavern on the main floor. It was a very unassuming building, with very unassuming people within. Most of the patrons were Connlaothian or norther travelers, so the pair at this table stuck out like a sour thumb.
On one side of the table, a man with a colorful wool, fur lined jacket was stuffing his face- plate after plate- of food. And he kept talking- even when his mouth was full.
"They live in the North!" he answered his own question, giving an obnoxious bark of a laugh- one that just kept on going. He shook his head, the dark brown hair of his had unique streaks of turquoise colored throughout, a color easily emphasized by the garrishness of his jacket.
He continued to chew, smiling, then swallowed, eyeing the man and his plate.
"You ain't gonna eat, Opus?" The man grinned again, his cheeks dimpling.
The other man was much less animated, and sat as a tall and imposing figure with the hearth burning at his back. This only amplified his seemingly gargantuan height- for a seven foot tall man was almost unheard of in the North. No... that stock was more typical of the deeper south- to the desert palaces of Essyrn.
He was cutting at his steak carefully, with neat cuts, rows and lines before he paused to look over at his companion. His companion that was still chewing and smiling with his mouth open as he leaned over his plate, and plopped another piece of extra rare steak into his mouth in just such a way he could see his canines.
"I apologize for not being a heathen," he remarked simply, and took a bite of his food.
The more colorful man shuffled in his seat, laughing, which seemed to spit out some of his food.
"Well, most vampires
are," the man pressed, leaning back into his chair as he finished chewing his wad of steak and started to lick at the juice and blood from his fingers as his turquoise eyes studied the room.
"Why do people even bother living up here? Although I suppose you can't go much further or they'd freeze to death.." he snorted, laughing and shook his head, hunching back over his steak and working at cutting another furious few pieces. He stuffed those pieces into his mouth, chewing, then glanced up at Opus. Despite his jests, the other man wasn't eating much. It wasn't like him to just pick at his food.
"Something on your mind?" the other asked, mouth still slapping with steak.
Opus paused, eyes still on his steak before speaking quietly.
"We had been followed."
The colorful fellow turned to regard the room, chewing loudly before glancing back at Opus, one arm lounging on the back of his own chair in a casual fashion.
"Seriously? They're dedicated enough to come all the way here?" He eyed the room, shaking his head again and went back to cutting up the remaining bits of his steak. "Good thing you brought me along. I can handle it."
"Just be sure to be discrete. I know how... colorful you Saranthians can be," The taller man went on, moving to cut back at his steak.
"You sure they're after you? The men over there kind of look homely," the other criticized, narrowing his eyes at them as he chewed, loudly.
"Don't play the fool card. I saw you observing them since we left Kartell." Opus paused, steak cut still at the end of his fork. "Dao... do as you must. I trust you'll continue to oblige the contract."
Dao popped the last piece of steak into his mouth and licked at his fingers again, nodding animatedly before giving a sniff. He then turned around in his chair, chewing on that last bit of his steak and staring directly at the men in the corner.
"Dao.." Opus pressed.
Dao's face blossomed into man lines of dimples as a smile consumed his face.
"Don't worry Opus." He moved to stand, pushing in his chair as he unbuttoned his coat. "Consider our contract obliged."
Moments later, people (well the few that were outside in the cold streets of Hathorath) were gasping and scurrying away- as a man in a fancy red suit stood outside-
tossing unconscious bodies onto the rooves of houses and stables as if they were Ansgar's Day decorations. He hefted one up onto a nearby porch roof, which was slanted dramatically- the body sliding down and half dangling off the side.
He dusted his hands off before planting them on his hips to admire his work.
And the town was nearly empty. He laughed- a strange, jackal of a laugh before turning and nearly tripping over the last unconscious body beside him.
"Woah- sorry, almost didn't see you there," he told the man, giving his form a kick as he grinned. Then he hefted him up onto his shoulder and looked around.
"Now where to put you... hrmm.."
As his eyes scanned the area he saw the perfect spot,- the moving blades of a wind mill.
"Ah, perfect. Perfect spot, Dao," he complimented himself, doing that same, odd, jackal of a laugh as he sauntered forward quite merrily and approached the moving blades.
He just had to time it right to get the fellow onto it. So he waited.. counted...
and threw the man.
He missed.
The body fell to the cold floor. Too bad it wasn't cold enough to snow.
Dao plante dhis hands on his hips, shaking his head at his mistake.
"Not sure how I missed that one.. well.. better try again, eh?" and he hefted the man up again, took a few steps back, regarding the wind mills blades. He shifted the man so he hung off his arm, sizing things up between his hands before-
He gave it another go.
And missed.
He stared at the crumpled body, pouting.
"Well, damn." And he stood there, tapping his foot and thinking over these calculations again, not seeming to notice nor care if he was seen by more or less anyone walking into town.
Bah- who would be walking into
this town. It was too damn cold.
Cold.. right...
he left his jacket inside...
Should he go and fetch it?
