RP:Valentin meets an outspoken dwarf, also fluent in Cenril rhyming slang

Setting

The Hanging Corpse Tavern

5th September 2011

Redhale is angry

Redhale rumbled a low growl at the Vampire, apparently the most amicable greeting he was prepared to give, before pulling out a dripping mass of human skin from the folds of his robes and hanging it over the exquisite coat rack where it began to drip dry, various rank fluids falling upon the coat-rack's shoes.

Valentin turns to Steadman "The usual, innit. Bloody top shelf kitchen sink, guv." The butcher's shadow turns its head this way and that, settling its gaze upon the masked newcomer before shrinking back into an approximation of 'proper' shadow behaviour.

Sophie has come in search of the butcher she met the other day whilst paying her respects to the coat rack remains of dear Cornelius. On of her sons, Gunnar has expessed an interest in becoming either a hunter or a butcher himself, and Sophie wishes to learn more, and for young Gunnar to learn more about the trade. Before the can approach, the coarse, blood stained fellow however, another bloodstained fellow, this one masked, whom the healer recognises as the dread Redhale enters, he seems furious. Sophie slowly backs away from the evil creature.

Valentin bought 1 elven-blood wine.

The poor creature is feeling corpse-deprived.

Redhale wasn't here for Sophie, or for the butcher, he was here to inquire as to why he wasn't being gifted any fresh soldiers despite all the killing that had been going on. Sure, he had done little to contribute to the recent corpses himself, but he was mad and felt entitled, and surely that was enough to warrant appeasement in the form of fallen warriors. Soon enough he'd have to go hunting by himself.

Valentin me glances at the silent, masked figure again, the dark red of his eyes showing some curiousity as the butcher takes a sip of his favourite sanguine tipple. He raises the glass of elven blood in salute to Sophie the Not-Taxidermist.

You told Redhale, "ooc Awww I really feel for the poor corpse-deprived fellow. *huggles Red*"

Sophie the Not-Taxidermist

Sophie the Not-Taxidermist, nods politely towards Valentin, moving so that the somewhat frightening butcher is between her and the terrifying masked being. "Good day to you sir. Do you remember me from the other day? I am Sophie a humble healer and an honest merchant. There is a favor I wish to ask of you please sir." She wipes a lock of her light coloured, almost white hair from her face. Her eyes look tired, like she is close to exhaustion."May I speak to you please sir?"

Veriun enetered the establishment the way he usually did. Using the door. He stepped in, tossed a breif glance at the always dutyfull Cornelius before he proceeded up to the bar. Standing not too far from Redhale. in fact, he even adresses the creature. "In war one must sieze what they are entitled. As everyone are occupied fending their own." as if he'd understood why the appatrion was here and the reason for it's bad mood.

Valentin glances at the elf, responding in his gruff deadpan voice "Well, missus, I was hopin' to be seeing the necromantress, but a butcher's hook tells me I'm out of luck there. What is it?"

Everyone thinks the dead belong to their families, to their friends, but do they ask the corpses?

Redhale 's chilling aura fell upon Veriun, its freezing energy outmatched only by the ice in Redhale's voice, "How can I be at war if I don't have an army." A rumbling growl quickly rose into harsh shouting, "Everyone thinks the dead belong to their families, to their friends, but do they ask the corpses? No! I'll find them, I'll give them the opportunity they deserve..."

Veriun turns around on his heel and leans against the bar, looking past Redhale at Valentin. "Miss thorne won't be coming by in the near future. She's had a most dire loss in the past hours."Veriun then looks back at redhale, returning his attention to the creature more fully. "This I do not deny. I meerely offered the answer I guessed you were seeking. There are plenty of bodies for you to extend your freedom to. The trick.." the avian proceeded in a calm matter-of-fact tone of voice as he flipped a coin out of his pocket and put it on the bar. "Is to find them first."

Valentin grunts at Veriun "Folks die all the time, guv, and I ain't never seen a necromancer cry over a corpse, innit"

Veriun said to Valentin, "and you most likely never will. She's not the type to display her tears."

Gunnar, a good lad, big for his age almost eighteen feet tall

Sophie sits near the rough Valentin."I have a son, Gunnar, a good lad, big for his age almost eighteen feet tall. Gunnar is very much interested in perhaps becoming a butcher when he grows up. He is twelve now. I was wondering if he might be able to spend a little time with you learn about the trade, perhaps if you both like each other and the idea I may even try to buy him an apprenticeship, but, first things first. Do you have a shop sir? Would you be prepared to meet my son?"

Valentin quaffs down some more of the viscous liquid and responds to Veriun "I should bleedin' well 'ope so. Ain't going to join a guild if it's run by bleedin' hearts an' Cenril bankers". Valentin scratches at a muttonchop as he turns to Sophie "If the lad ain't squeamish, mam'selle, and don't mind his hands sloppin' about in offal and giblets, then when me shop's open he can take a shot at it. All lads should 'ave a trade, innit, else they wind up as useless ponces and tossers"

Veriun chuckles and nods at Valentin, raising his glass of, arguably less fitting for the gesture, water in perhaps somewhat superficial agreement. "Indeed."

Redhale lowered his voice to a trembling grumble, "I have more important things to do than sniff out rotters... If someone would just take my puppets out for a walk they'd pick up the wounded and dying right off the battlefields, save their friends the trouble."

Veriun shrugged at Redhale. "I'm afraid I have no ideal sulution for that. Perhaps you could put up a offer for a stand-in puppeteer, so to say?"

At last! Another who understands what the hell Valentin is talking about.

Sophie the elf isn't quite sure she understands everything the butcher says, and is even less sure she likes what she does understand, but she nods politely. "Quite sir. Everyone must learn skills to enable them to earn an honest living, to be a pillar of the community." A dwarf who has until now quietly been getting drunk near the fire, comments to the masked Redhale. "I have an ideal solution for you, why don't you turn that irritating bird man wot don't have no solution into a corpse yah can use. Never could stand arrogant avian bastards, think they are so high and mighty, don't even know one end of a pick from another most of em." The dwarf scratches his grey beard and burps loudly.

Valentin looks sideways at Redhale, an inscrutable surveillance by indifferent eyes. A warped crack appears in the outline of the head of the butcher's shadow, forming a grotesque caricature of a grin. "So, if'n a man happened to stumble 'pon some stiffs, you'd be the man to... look after 'em? Right kindly of you, monsieur. Would I be veering off the 'old beaten' t'think you'd invite such... clientele?"

Veriun meerely smiles and raises his eyebrows once towards the outspoken dwarf. As if humouring his statement about the avian race.

Redhale only gave Valentin a passing comment, "I stick by my own."

Valentin nods to Sophie. "When th'shops open, mam'selle, I'll leave notice of it on th'board." The butcher's shadow plucks off a finger, shapes it into a dart, and hurls it at the board, the dart winding its way around the walls until it finds its target. A small 'thunk' can then be heard, and a corresponding hole found should one look closely at the message board.

Valentin does not respond to Redhale's words, though his shadow shrugs. The butcher contents himself with taking another mouthful of elf claret.

"Bloody bird people right bunch o' Cenril bankers the lot of 'em."

Sophie seems even more nervous, as the conversation turns to dealing in corpses. She is seriously reconsidering the idea of letting Valentin any where near her little ones, even if the little one in question is -much- taller than his mother, she still needs to ptotect him from bad influences. The intoxicated dwarf, who had worked for several years in Cenril in his youth and picked up the rhyming slang snorts as Veriun raises an eyebrow,then turns to Valentin. "Bloody bird people right bunch o' Cenril bankers the lot of 'em."

Valentin raises his glass in salute to the dwarf "S'right, innit. Couldn't 'ave writ a blimmin' red letter."

Sophie feels a shiver that has nothing to do with Redhale's icy presence as the man's unnatural shadow acts of its own accord. Can nothing in this abhorrent, evil-corrupted, world be relied upon any more, the dejected healer thinks to herself.

"Your'e a man after me own apple cart me old Craughmoyle.

The old dwarf laughs. "Your'e a man after me own apple cart me old Craughmoyle. The names Garran, I'm a miner, bloody best kitchen knife there is mining."

Valentin nods to the dwarf "Valentin, guv. 'Ave a butchers fer the rest"

The dwarf laughs gruffly once more. "I guess I'm taking a butchers at a butcher, unless me mince pies deceive me, also I may be mistaken, but yer drinking blood wine. Yer wouldn't be a camp fire would yah? This is their city after all."

Valentin downs the rest of the contents, his back hand clearing a slight bloody smear from his lips before wiping it off on his apron. "An' yer a dwarf, an' grass is green, innit." The butcher's shadow pantomimes spitting, the shadowy sputum reforming as a shadowy centipede which crawls along the floor to hide in the darkness beneath the dwarf's chair.

Valentin drank an elven-blood wine.

I'm a dwarf, sure as t'healer wid t' pointy ears there is a shelf.

The grizzled old dwarf, seems completely undisturbed by the mysteriously independent, shadow crawling under his chair. quaffs some more of his ale. "Aye I'm a dwarf, sure as t'healer wid t' pointy ears there is a shelf, sure as mayor sh!ts in t'woods." He grins. "Can I get yer another chain-link yer Xalious pass looks empty me old Craughmoyle."

Valentin shakes his head "I've things to be doin', ye derelict wharf. Another time." The butcher then tips his hat to Garran and Sophie, then strides out into Hemlock way