A Refuge in the Swamp (Open)
Jun 21, 2023 3:33:14 GMT -5
Post by Aidan Au Alexander on Jun 21, 2023 3:33:14 GMT -5
Aidan pushed open the creaking door of the rustic tavern, the warmth of the hearth washing over him as he stepped inside. The scent of aged wood and lingering smoke filled his nostrils, a familiar comfort in these unfamiliar lands. He scanned the room, his eyes taking in the motley assortment of patrons who filled the space.
The tavern was alive with activity—a symphony of laughter, clinking mugs, and animated conversations. Farmers, traders, and adventurers mingled, their weary faces reflecting tales of hardship and triumph. Aidan found solace in their shared experiences, knowing that he, too, bore the weight of his own journey.
Making his way to the worn bar, Aidan leaned against the polished wood, catching the barkeep's attention. With a nod and a wan smile, he ordered a pint of ale, the foamy beverage cascading into the tankard with a satisfying pour. As he lifted the ale to his lips, he took a moment to survey the room once more. His tired and sad hazel eyes scanned the large and inviting room.
His gaze lingered on a group of brawny men, their boisterous laughter echoing through the tavern. Clad in rough leather and bearing the scars of countless battles, they were seasoned warriors, their camaraderie evident in their easy banter. Aidan's trained eyes recognized the strength and discipline etched in their movements, maybe they would eventually be allies in his quest for justice.
On the far side of the room, a hunched figure sat alone at a corner table, engrossed in a weathered tome. The person's ink-stained fingers delicately traced the pages, a hint of mystery shrouding their identity. Aidan wondered what knowledge they held, what stories they carried within their aged eyes. Perhaps they possessed insights that could aid him on his tumultuous path.
Near the hearth, a trio of musicians played a lively tune, their instruments dancing in harmony. The music filled the air, lifting the spirits of all who listened. Aidan found himself captivated by the melody, a brief respite from the weight of his burdens. In the sway of the music, he saw hope—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty and joy to be found, and his mind turned to Maria. Her long blonde hair braided and hanging to her waist, her lively blue eyes that were far to innocent for this cruel world. Gone....far too soon...
As Aidan took another sip of his ale, he couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in the midst of this lively tapestry of souls. Each face in the tavern held a story, a struggle, and a desire for something more. It was a reminder that he was not alone, that his journey intertwined with the lives of those around him.
And probably always will... he thinks as he reaches down and touches his pocket where the letter rested feeling it crumple lightly as his hand touched it. I won't forget the kindness I was shown by Marv. And I'll try and do my best to pass that on to others. To be, what was it?
"A source of inspiration..." he mutters lightly to himself setting down his tankard, and taking a deep breath. He wanted revenge for the wrongs that had been committed against him. And he needed to find a way to break his family free from Scern's hold, but he would help whoever he could along the way provided they didn't interfere with his own quest,
He was ready to embrace whatever the future held. The tavern, with all its characters and tales, had served as a momentary sanctuary—a place of respite and reflection, but he would soon be on his way and resume his lonely travels again.
He glanced down at the dark ale and took another drink. Before sitting the mug back on the counter gently. He was enjoying the sounds and clamor of all the free folk around him. Something he hadn't been a part of it in years, when a voice spoke up from behind the bar.
"Ye should get rid o' that?" the barkeep said gesturing at the slave crest tattooed into the back of Aidan's right hand. Aidan glanced up at the big man and smiled his tired smile.
"You're probably right. But it isn't that simple. They're burned in as well. I also want to keep it a memento of what they've taken from me. How they tried to break me, and how I overcame their odds. I know it complicates things for me, but I'll keep it until I find the man responsible for causing all of this," Aidan said as he stares down at the crest tattooed on the back of his hand. The flesh was slightly puffy under the tattoo, where the burned in crest had been applied. They never expected you to be able to earn your freedom. Expecting you to fight or work until you eventually became too weak and you were just a liability. That is, if you lived that long...very few slaves do... Aidan thinks as he studies the crest.
The tavern was alive with activity—a symphony of laughter, clinking mugs, and animated conversations. Farmers, traders, and adventurers mingled, their weary faces reflecting tales of hardship and triumph. Aidan found solace in their shared experiences, knowing that he, too, bore the weight of his own journey.
Making his way to the worn bar, Aidan leaned against the polished wood, catching the barkeep's attention. With a nod and a wan smile, he ordered a pint of ale, the foamy beverage cascading into the tankard with a satisfying pour. As he lifted the ale to his lips, he took a moment to survey the room once more. His tired and sad hazel eyes scanned the large and inviting room.
His gaze lingered on a group of brawny men, their boisterous laughter echoing through the tavern. Clad in rough leather and bearing the scars of countless battles, they were seasoned warriors, their camaraderie evident in their easy banter. Aidan's trained eyes recognized the strength and discipline etched in their movements, maybe they would eventually be allies in his quest for justice.
On the far side of the room, a hunched figure sat alone at a corner table, engrossed in a weathered tome. The person's ink-stained fingers delicately traced the pages, a hint of mystery shrouding their identity. Aidan wondered what knowledge they held, what stories they carried within their aged eyes. Perhaps they possessed insights that could aid him on his tumultuous path.
Near the hearth, a trio of musicians played a lively tune, their instruments dancing in harmony. The music filled the air, lifting the spirits of all who listened. Aidan found himself captivated by the melody, a brief respite from the weight of his burdens. In the sway of the music, he saw hope—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty and joy to be found, and his mind turned to Maria. Her long blonde hair braided and hanging to her waist, her lively blue eyes that were far to innocent for this cruel world. Gone....far too soon...
As Aidan took another sip of his ale, he couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in the midst of this lively tapestry of souls. Each face in the tavern held a story, a struggle, and a desire for something more. It was a reminder that he was not alone, that his journey intertwined with the lives of those around him.
And probably always will... he thinks as he reaches down and touches his pocket where the letter rested feeling it crumple lightly as his hand touched it. I won't forget the kindness I was shown by Marv. And I'll try and do my best to pass that on to others. To be, what was it?
"A source of inspiration..." he mutters lightly to himself setting down his tankard, and taking a deep breath. He wanted revenge for the wrongs that had been committed against him. And he needed to find a way to break his family free from Scern's hold, but he would help whoever he could along the way provided they didn't interfere with his own quest,
He was ready to embrace whatever the future held. The tavern, with all its characters and tales, had served as a momentary sanctuary—a place of respite and reflection, but he would soon be on his way and resume his lonely travels again.
He glanced down at the dark ale and took another drink. Before sitting the mug back on the counter gently. He was enjoying the sounds and clamor of all the free folk around him. Something he hadn't been a part of it in years, when a voice spoke up from behind the bar.
"Ye should get rid o' that?" the barkeep said gesturing at the slave crest tattooed into the back of Aidan's right hand. Aidan glanced up at the big man and smiled his tired smile.
"You're probably right. But it isn't that simple. They're burned in as well. I also want to keep it a memento of what they've taken from me. How they tried to break me, and how I overcame their odds. I know it complicates things for me, but I'll keep it until I find the man responsible for causing all of this," Aidan said as he stares down at the crest tattooed on the back of his hand. The flesh was slightly puffy under the tattoo, where the burned in crest had been applied. They never expected you to be able to earn your freedom. Expecting you to fight or work until you eventually became too weak and you were just a liability. That is, if you lived that long...very few slaves do... Aidan thinks as he studies the crest.