Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Heartless City (drayle88 - Silvester)

The Black Swan was what you would call, a classy pub. It was on the border of the rough side of the city, but still welcomed all manner of person in from off the stret. The waiters and waitresses were well groomed and dressed, friendly, and quick to please. Besides the large sitting area, there were two off to the side rooms on the left or right side. Here people gathered in the booths, or sat alone to think to themselves. A rather nice looking young man was behind the bar, polishing the redwood surface, and greeting those who sat there with a smile.

Silvester, normally rather more the recluse than not, had finally decided to haul himself out of the pit that was the small family estate he was currently employed at to get a drink - a metaphorical breath of fresh air from the mustiness of books and scent of ink, not to mention the nobleman's brats running around that had nearly disrupted his work on more than one occasion. Pushing the door open to the pub, he folded his wings loosely against his back so they wouldn't bang into anything (or anyone) and looked around. Taking in the scenery for a moment.

Finally he came to some decision, and made his way over towards the bar with his bare clawed feet making a subtle clattering noise on the wooden floor. For now, the man waited patiently to be served... taking the moment to observe the other occupants.

THe pub was sparsely filled, with a few here and there, and some in the left and right wings. No one of real consiquence, and mostly human from the looks. A young man walked up to his table and gave a slight bow, paying no heed to his appearence.

"Good evening Sir. How may I serve you?"

Silvester, out of habit, returned the inclination of his own head - a movement that exagerrated his horns. "A bottle of mead, please." A glass was not quite strong enough to get him to the level of 'buzzed' that he intended to, and thanks to his employer recently paying him for yet another month's work, he had the coin to afford to treat himself a little. "Is it always this quiet here?"

"Usually Sir. We catter to a wide crowd, but is so thinly spread we don't often have a full house. I'll be back with your bottle shortly."

The waiter left, and the overall ambience of the room settled in. No one paid him any mind, his looks obviously not a problem or an odity.

The waiter came back with the bottle, placing it down on the table and bowing again.

"Anything else Sir?"

Silvester at least found the quiet to be comforting, to a degree. The lack of looks towards his appearance was something of an oddity, but he was hardly going to complain - maybe where he had stayed before, had been simply more isolated from creatures like himself than here. He rooted in a pocket, then paused. "What sort of currency do you accept?" He had both modern paper money, and golden coins, and even a few left over from his journey - no matter how brief - to The Golden Tether.

He shook his head then. "Just the mead will suffice for now, I think."

"We take whatever you got."

The waiter said with a grin.

"We are a pub after all. Just pay your tab on the way out." And with that the man left. For a bit, everything was quiet. Then, a newcomer entered the place.

And one could tell something was off about him. his red clothing, and his odd aura giving him away,

Silvester nodded. Not quite the sort of reply he had been expecting, but it made sense at the same time - money, was money. The sound of the door opening made him look in the direction that the entrance was, before a fine brow arched up slightly. The red clothing was not anything remarkable - a colour - but the aura was detectable to the gargoyle's attuned senses. Curiouser and curiouser.

The man, as best he could tell, walked up to the bar and and took a seat. Silently, without an indication, the barman poured an odd green drink, and the man took it, dropping a coin. It wasn't long after he'd gotten there that a few of the patrons got up, paying their way and leaving.

The overall... feeling in the air, was one that didn't bode well with humans. Flesh and blood felt queasy and nervous. However, a couple of the pubs employees saw the man, and raised a hand in friendly greeting.

Silvester, ever the people observer, watched as a few left. His nostrils flared slightly at the drink, before he gestured the barman over. "Is that what is commonly called absinthe?" He had tried it once before, and disliked it - good enough to get him drunk, but quite vile in taste, as he was not a fan of anything akin to aniseed.

Fortunatly, Silvester was not human in any sense of the word. He came from stone, birthed by it to act as a guardian. While he could walk around in daylight without turning to stone, his ancestors in the recent generations had learnt how to control it through power of will - a defence mechanism against their stone forms getting destroyed when they were helpless to act against it. "You seem to have a negative effect on some," came his dry observation towards the stranger.

The young barman nodded.

"Yes. He's teh only one who drinks it, but he pays well enough to keep it in stock." After this he went to cleaning the counter. The figure turned his eyes to the gargoyle and raised an eyebrow. On closoer inspection, his hair was more like slicked and sharp dreadlocks that ran down the back of his shaved head.

"I do. TO some."

He nodded. "I thought so, I recognized it by the colour." A faint smirk appeared on his lips at the response, and his tail slowly swayed behind him - a sign of lethargy in a way, or at least in this case, one of unconcern. "Interesting. You do not seem the most intimidating." The man, from what he could tell, was not seven foot tall and built like a brick shithouse, which generally those of the intimidating category fell into.

The figure raised his eyebrow. Not even 6 feet tall, thin, pale... Other than his hair and his disturbing eyes, there wasn't much about him that could be called intimidating. The man looked down at the tail, then back up, a sardonic grin on his face.

"One should not judge mearly on looks. It tends to get people killed."

Silvester snorted quietly, then took a sip of his own drink after pouring a little of the mead into a provided glass. "The laws apply to everyone." Not quite a warning, but as the man had subtly suggested that over-estimating him could result in death... well, it seemed rather appropriate. He was sat, by now, on one of the stools at the bar, his feet tucked up slightly and clasping hold of the metal legs in an almost bird-like manner.

"In most cases yes."

The man took another drink, then looked back to teh gargoyle.

"You are not wholly gargoyle are you? I can smell oil and a few other things as well."

Silvester, given the man's mildly inhuman aura, didn't so much as bat an eyelid at the comment. "Due to several injuries in the past, no, not entirely. But I am not more machine than species, and so still considering myself a gargoyle." The mechanics replaced body parts that weren't functioning to the highest standard, much like someone might replace a malfunctioning piece of electronics. The procedure had been painful but, worth it.

"Very nice... very nice..."

The man tapped the counter and his glass was filled again.

"Ditch Hale... Artificer. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A gloved hand was offered.

Silvester considered him for a moment, then extended his own hand. It had taken a minute or two for him to remember the gesture and it's meaning. "Silvester, accountant and merchant." The former for the winter and spring months, the latter for autumn and winter. "Do you come here often?"

"only when I am done with a project. My way of treating myself."

Ditch took another drink, looking around. The pub was still occupying some people, although most of them avoided his gaze.

"A merchant? What do you sell? I'm always looking for the odd bit that people tend to not think of."

He hmmed thoughtfully for a moment, plucking up his glass again and taking another sip. The fact people were avoiding the man, didn't truthfully bother him. He felt only the subtle hint of an inhuman aura, and was not disturbed by it. Even just a month on the Tether's island had hardened him somewhat. "Odds and sods. Old arcane artefacts and books primarily, and some clockwork items that I manufacture myself."