Topic: First Knight

Lord Ayreg

Date: 2006-02-13 09:08 EST
The Red Dragon Inn was a place of quiet, almost comfort. The Death Knight was wrapped up in his shiny new, and rather quite warm, cloak that he purchased from the general store. The thought still irks him, though -- purchased -- as if we were some kind of commoner. Still, he must remember to keep his overconfidence in line. Nobody remembered him, now. Ah, but there was a time when a hundred tailors would have laid their best wares at his feet, just in order to avoid his gaze, not to mention his wrath! Those were the days.

Either way, back to now. Now, he sits in the common room of an inn like some kind of peasant. His clothes are new, however, paid for by the last scraps of his money. A coat with silver scroll-work and a high-collared neck, a proper shirt, servicable breeches, and a good pair of sturdy boots. And a cloak. There was a ruckus at the bar; a rather noisy pair of people. One actually said something to make the Death Knight snort.. which is about as close to a laugh as the bitter, middle-aged man gets. When Ayreg rose to draw himself some ale from the bar -- a traditionally disgusting drink, but one of the few that Jodiah himself could barely tolerate -- they continued to be noisy.

When Ayreg turned away from the ale keg, though, there was only one left. He wondered idly where the second one went. It didn't take him long to figure it out, though, that the other used Ayreg's approach as a distraction, so that he could beat a hasty retreat. And the creature that Ayreg was left with now... well, suffice to say, must simply be another form of torment that the Death Knight is recieving from The Nihil.

Tara Rynieyn.

The Death Knight wanted to beat his head into the wall. The bouncy little heathen bloviated on about a series of completly unamusing, uninteresting drivel, vomiting statements, information, and comments forth like some kind of all-encompasing waterfall. The kind that spews not only refreshing mountain spring water, but also salty, bitter ocean water, as well as the pungent ooze that is waste water. It was the most horrific moment in his life. And, for some reason, the little girl-child would not leave him alone!

He insulted her, patronzied her, dismissed her.. he even tried to physically hurt her! The bedamned little vixen wouldn't leave him be. Eventually, he had to drag her from her seat across from him in his booth by her hair, and outside into the alley they went.

It was a one-sided battle, however. Ayreg, his mind already locked on the coming battle, threw his fancy new cloak to the ground and rolled his coat-sleeves back. He prepared himself for the battle, and she seemed to taunt him some more. The Death Knight was fast, though, landing the back of his hand across her flapping jaw quicker than she could even see it coming.

And still... she talked.

In the eventualities of all things, Jodiah Ayreg, Death Knight Reborn, the Scourge of Worlds, the Lord of Chaos, resigned himself to sitting with her. And being civil. It seemed to work, though, as she took on a completly different tone. She acted almost grown up. But.. no. No, this little pretty would never make it to his bed. Ayreg had a very particular type, and it's been a very long time since someone like Esuna came along. Not that he ever bedded Esuna Wilder, of course, but that didn't mean that the Knightress -- the Warlady -- never occupied his thoughts.

Too bad she's dead now, for all he knows. It has been some time since he first left these lands to return to Doomhammer.

On his way out the door that night, he came across another person that is going to warrant a killing some day. He never heard the name well -- Taluwen? Talinsyn? Talumnum? Talomar? Yes, yes that was it! -- only the tone of voice and the look in one's eyes. It was the look of a cold-hearted, dead-hearted killer. It was the look in his eyes, on those tapestries back home. He burned with envy, desiring those days to come again... but, for the moment, here he was now having tried to push this mongrel out of his way, only to come face-to-face with, essentially, himself in his old form.

Jodiah gathered in his pride, and his ego. It was a hard step, but it had to be done.. he simply had no resources yet with which to make war on anyone. All he had... really... was a cloak! So, sweeping said cloak aside in a flourish, he stepped to the side and gave a sort of half-bow; a sort of curt-bow. The kind you make when you absolutly HAVE to do something, and not necessarily out of any real desire to do so.

Besides, the ale was still terrible.

Then he left. As the Death Knight drew his cloak around him tighter, leaving the Red Dragon Inn, his mind began to work again. The gears turning, he considered in which of the several thousand ways he knew to snuff the life out of any one of the myriad of creatures roaming these lands...

...which one this Talomar would get to enjoy.