Salty Talk- A Medieval Fantasy Tavern (People Needed)

[Swagga Hopper]

Cecil curiously wanders through the forestry as he is in search of something, a place. A person as well. Thumbing his ring on his left finger in curiosity and anticipation, Ceil would stop and have a word with his partner. 'Where the ******** is this place? Why does everything on this damned plane of exitence have to be out in the forest?" :Why you always got s**t ta' say?: 'Look, Im just saying I feel like we are lost.' :Aint that ring suppose to be used like a walkie talkie....just ask where the hell you are.:

And so Cecil would walk again, now into a clearing with rocks making a circle. Cecil raised his left hand close to his lips to speak at the ring, thinking that was the best way to use it and make sure he was heard.

"Hey....uh.....Vansin, I think I - - -s**t!"

Once in the center of the circle, Cecil was plunged into a mental catastrophe and further into a black abyss. It seemed like he was falling. Falling a long way for a long time. And then landing perfectly on his feet in a squat with electromagnetic distortion, ripples in the air, and sight returning no faster than his breath. Cecil felt like he was watching a terminator movie, be he was the robot. He would shake off the daze left in his head and dust himself off only to check the majority of his gear and find it missing. His batons and his gloves remained but his modern weaponry has disappeared without a trace. This would make Cecil feel vulnerable seeing as to how his abilities hindered his battle prowess and Kireek was a scary cat.

: Dayum! Lets not do that again, I almost lost my chicken on that one: 'Kireek, shut up.' Simply turning around, Cecil found himself on a porch of some sort, and the building had a sign on it, a fish with the words 'Salty Talk' on it. The smell of tobacco, stale beer, and must shot into Cecil's nose as he neared the front door and breached it. Pushing himself into the live environment, Cecil would look around, checking out the scene. It didn't look like where a sophisticated man like Vansin would like to meet but maybe it was safer to assume that than for the uninvited to find the place.

[count_zantara]

Looking up from his cup and smoke as the door opened almost immediately after it closed on Vansin, the cleric was somewhat disappointed to see that the Devil had not returned.... but by the sight of the ring on the man's finger, it seemed to be yet another minion of his old friend.

Which might prove all the more amusing in the end run.

"Evening. Looking for someone?"

Said the purple and black clad cleric from his table in the corner as he raised his cup in a small nod to the new arrival as he stubbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on his table.

[Swagga Hopper]

Cecil's cleats tapped the surface of the floor with every nearing step to the guy talking to him. He would stop at the opposing side of the table and flash a smile with a somewhat nerdy victory sign as he spoke.

"Wassup' guy. Um, yeah I was looking for Vansin?"

He would drop his hand into his pocket, both of them for that matter, and his smile stayed a smirk. He felt out of place but he was always quick to meet people, learn how they interact in a place, and adjust to their customs in order to at least fit in comfortable enough to beat later cases of paranoia. This place was a little out of the ordinary huh?

"This is the Salty Talk tavern right?"

[count_zantara]

Motioning for the man to take a seat across from him in the only remaining chair at the table, the armor clad cleric smiled knowingly and replied.

"Alas you have come to the right place.... but you missed him by seconds as it were. He just headed out to placed unknown."

Taking in this man's appearance, the Count supposed that he was one of Vansin's hired muscle as it were. Probably more close combat skills than anything magic wise. Not that the Count thought there was anything wrong with such a thing. Every would-be world dictator needed a strong henchmen.

Goldfinger had Oddjob, Sauron had Sarumon, the Joker had Harley Quinn.

And Vansin had this guy.

Zantara, in short, was not highly impressed. But that was no matter. It didn't mean the Count couldn't enjoy picking this soldiers brain a bit.Smiling brightly, he leaned his chair back onto two legs once more as he took a swig from his glass before continuing.

"I am not quite sure where he went nor when he may return. But I have the feeling that he shall be back here before too long. Care to take a seat and wait it out?"

[Swagga Hopper]

Cecil would take a seat across from the man and lean back into it, crossing his arms before his chest. The guy was indeed better with hand to hand combat, but was in no way beefy. He was defined yet lean. Thought the clothing some what hid that feature. He too would take a good look at the guy, Cecil was sure to see him often right.

"Cecil Darius Graves. I assume its nice to meet you, Im sure Ill see you around considering your here now."

Cecil would pause as he motioned for someone to bring him a glass with a strong drink, anything, didn't matter. Questioning him before he replied Cecil would push to continue.

"So do you work with Vansin too?"

[count_zantara]

"The name is Vain. Would you be any relation to a Dizzy Graves by any chance?"

He said simply as he pulled a new handrolled cigarette from his small pack and offered the pack to Cecil. Lighting his own with a wooden match, the cleric placed the match in the nearby ashtray and blew a smoke ring away from them both as the waitress set in front of Cecil a amber colored liquid filled glass. What it was could not be discovered by smell nor sight but it seemed to be an ale of some sort.

"Currently... no I am not. But I have in the past a time or three and perhaps I will once more. If that old Devil would ever ask, that is."

He said chuckling softly as he played softly with the white gold finger on his left ring finger, spinning it around first clockwise, then counter-clockwise as he pondered a few things.

"But believe me Cecil... the pleasure is all mine in us meeting."

[Swagga Hopper]

Cecil would accept a cigarette from the pack. He wasn't much a smoker, but he felt like at this moment in time it couldn't hurt. He would grab a nearby match as well. He didn't bother to check for his zippo seeing as to how his weapons were gone, and fire was a weapon. Taking a drag on the cigarette, Cecil would sip his ale and make a slightly mugging face before blowing out the smoke from the cigarette.

"I have no siblings, never heard of her. But then again im new to this whole plane of existence. Im from lands far far away, and plan to live here now. Where im from, there is nothing to go back to."

[count_zantara]

"I come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming! "

The cleric half-sung in jest to Cecil's exclamation about his past and where he came from. The Count was full of such little things that came to his half-mad mind almost completely by accident.

"I would not really trust the ale here... for some reason these people do not have the ability to make a good glass of alcohol nor cook a meal. I find myself almost tempted to kill them both and just take over the business myself."

He said, taking another drag from his cigarette as he looked at the doorway, half expecting it to open wide in any minute.

"But let me welcome you to this plane. Let me know when you feel like the script needs to be wiped out and re-written. Most everyone comes to that realization sometime in their life here."

[Swagga Hopper]

"Wiped out and re-written? So what are you telling me? That you can give me a fresh start and make it all better?"

Cecil felt a little insulted. Though his life has been so far a big ******** up, he was still willing to work for a fresh start, to make it on his own. When he got it right he wouldn't have let it been by anyone else's hand. He would never give up trying to succeed, and he would never rely on someone else to help him, because he never had the help before. Stubborn, maybe. Regretful, never. Taking another hit of the cigarette, Cecil push his ale further from him, taking the word of advice from the cleric through the hopefully misunderstood insult.

[count_zantara]

"And if I could, would you accept such a thing? No... I think you are a but more free-spirited to take the offer if it was there. Happiness given by another is not true as I have found out over my long life. It is only when you acquire it yourself does it have meaning."

The cleric asked hypothetically namely because for the simple fact he was offering no such thing. His previous statement was more along the lines of something to tell Cecil that what he found probably was not all that better than what he left. Chuckling to himself, he tapped the ashes off his cigarette before continuing.

"But on the other hand, you seem to have fallen in with Vansin the Devil so perhaps I am wrong. He is well known for his faustian bargains as I am sure you can gather. But that is a question I expect no answer for nor would I ask. A person's bargain for their soul is none of my affair."

He said with a soft smile, bowing his head slightly in apology for even bringing up the matter between Cecil and Vansin.

[Swagga Hopper]

Cecil would absorb the mans words and understand more of what he meant. He would also here the comment on the Venom Signet and its leader, though he didn't feel offended, he completely understood.

"I have yet to set my favor of the bargain. But working in the mean time in turn for it is worth it. Even if I choose in the end for them to simply leave me alone when or if I decide to quit, I will still have put in work similar to my old career to stay on my tones and ready. If I happened to return home or avoid being forced back, the training I'd receive from my missions would better prepare me for which ever path."

Taking a final drag on the cigarette, Cecil would dip it in the ale extinguishing it before placing it in the over flowing ashtray between him and the cleric.

[count_zantara]

"A wise man once said to me: For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?"

The Cleric said with a chuckle as he pulled a large flask from his belt and set it on the table between them. Pulling a pair of beaten tin shotglasses from seemingly up his sleeve, he poured a double shot of Captain Morgan Tattoo Black Rum for the both of them. Sliding one over to in front of Cecil, the Count picked his up and raised it into a toast.

"But better the Devil you know than one who is not. He may be a bit odd, Vansin might be, but at least he is trustworthy in his own way. He will always keep the exact word of his promises.... just make sure that you can survive with his interpretation of it!

With a loud laugh that echoed off the walls, Zantara slammed back the double shot of high grade rum and slammed the tin down on the table, picking up the flask to pour himself another and to see if Cecil had downed his own or might care for a refill.

[Swagga Hopper]

As Vain spoke, Cecil accepted his shot and downed it in one swift motion. By the time he slammed his shot tin down, Cecil was holding his out as it sat on the table top. He would chuckle before releasing a small soft sigh.

"So do new recruits normally not make it long with Vansin's group?"

[count_zantara]

"I wouldn't rightly know."

The cleric said with a chuckle as he poured Cecil another tall shot of the fine grade A liquor and himself one as well. Brushing a strand of stray hair away from his face and behind his slightly pointed ears, he continued.

"But if you've been chosen by Vansin, then it means he's seen something within you that he can use and that he has something that you would accept in exchange for service to him. He's manipulative, stubborn, arrogant and for the most part a total a**... but he knows people quite well and can offer quite a bit in a multitude of ways. I think you'll do well under his tutelage. There are worse men to work for out there in all truth."

Raising his glass once more, the cleric downed his second shot with a almost audible gasp as the alcohol burned down his throat before filling his shotglass a third time.

[Swagga Hopper]

Cecil would down his second shot and place his tin back down before reaching for Vain's cigarette pack on the table. He would hold it up to Vain in question.

"Do you mind?"

He asked for another before commenting on the cleric's words.

"So whom would the worse bunch be? Any names I should look out for?"