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 Posted: Mon Mar 12, 2012 11:27 pm
 Many of the Reapers and Black Hearts that knew Cruor would have been shocked to find him nursing a tankard of ale in a pub, shoulders hunched against the noise of the room he was in. It wasn't often that the Blackheart took time to relax and let the tense muscles of his back, always clenched in paranoia, loosened enough to him for the ache to ooze out of them. Never mind that he rarely allowed himself to drink, especially not pub ale, since it hindered reaction time and motor skills and, well, Cruor was nothing if not paranoid.
He'd just finished tracking a small back of Witch Eaters and, well, eliminating them. Thankfully there'd been a waterfall and, while getting wet while encased in an entire suit of armor wasn't the best option, it was certainly better than being drenched in blood and other unsavory substances. Besides he'd had time to dry off during his walk to the pub and he didn't smell like death anymore so he supposed that that was a plus. Heaving a small sigh he took another swig from his tankard, shaking his head a little and casting his gaze about the room.
There was one thing that he had to say about this particular location, and that was that it had good music. As he looked around the room he took the opportunity to zero in on the source of the music, eyes landing on a man on the other side of the room. He watched him for a few long moments, noting his skill with an instrument, his focus... Perhaps he had been in the field too long, was too used to analyzing others, too fixated and attempting to keep from making the mistake of trusting someone who could be a Witch Eater. Despite that he felt it was fairly handy for when he noticed that a few less than savory patrons were casting irritated glances in the direction of the stranger. It could be nothing but...
Shaking his head the Blackheart climbed to his feet and moved over to the musician, shifting to lean against a nearby wall, attempting to keep his posture nonchalant. Hopefully his mere presence would be intimidating enough to keep anyone that wanted to cause trouble away, but... Some people tended to have a strange lack of fear of people encased in armor with a giant sword strapped to their back. Alcohol did tend to have that affect on the stupid, after all.
"Don't mind me." he murmured, hiding his mouth behind his tankard, keeping his voice low enough so only the musician would hear him. "Just hoping to keep some... Volatile fans away.
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Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2012 3:10 am
 Ambition wasn’t one of Dane’s greater points at the moment, not when he’d graduated from the Makai Academy some time ago and still spent his nights in the pubs playing music solo, practicing magic only second to practicing playing the crimson guitar he held in his hands now. It was a small wonder that the witch had even graduated at all, though admittedly it had taken him the better part of two years. This wasn’t to say that Dane had never been motivated before; he’d immediately signed up for the school once he’d come of age, hoping to reconcile his magical talents with his musicianship.
It simply wasn’t that easy. Proficiency had eventually come with time and practice, but this world he chose to explore was frowned upon by both his family and former bandmates, and their resistance slowed him down, was sometimes even debilitating. Dane felt a particular responsibility over his magic, though—this gift, no matter how it inconvenienced his purely human peers, had to be used. And, passively or no, Dane did do strange things with his music.
These notions had been pushed out of the man’s head as he stood on the small stage now, strumming his guitar and singing softly for the few patrons in the pub. It was in this state that Dane could put his conflicting beliefs aside, for when he entered this zone, the only thing that existed was the music he was making. It didn’t even matter that there were a few patrons glaring at him from the back of the room. It was his stage right now, after all.
A shifting of red and black in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Dane lowered his pale green gaze to see a heavily armored man moving in his direction, tankard of ale in hand. His curiosity was laid to rest when the Blackheart’s words rose to his ears, and all he could do was flash the stranger a crooked smile and issue the faintest of nods. The night was a success if even one patron enjoyed his music, though the fact that this particular one was a Blackheart meant that he’d be face to face with his ‘what am I doing with my life’ problem soon enough.
“Your music sucks!”
Dane merely leveled a pointed glare at the source of the drunken shout, continuing to play even as the jeers from that corner of the pub because louder and more numerous.
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Posted: Thu Mar 15, 2012 3:30 pm
Cruor's gaze snapped to the men that shouted at the musician, eyes narrowing as he finished the tankard and slowly set it aside on a nearby table for collection later. He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled the drunks with a glare, practically daring them to step forward and cause problems. Unfortunately it seemed that they were drunk and stupid as one of them advanced on the stage despite the rather obvious presence of not just a Reaper, a Blackheart. Cruor felt downright insulted by the fact that they didn't consider him a threat.
"Pretty boy, why don't you step off the stage and let someone with talent up there, eh?" one of the drunks jeered, laughing at the end.
"Why don't you sit down." Cruor responded, his voice cold and quiet, subtly threatening. "And stop making a fool of yourself."
Thankfully the threat did its job of diverting the attention of the man, causing him to give Cruor a once over that had the Blackheart grimacing in disgust; this man was obviously too drunk to cope with being in public. After a few moments of processing the insult the man decided it would be a wise move to step forward and invade his space. Cruor grimaced as the other man's breath, stinking of liquor and whatever he ate, washed across his face, his reaction only causing the other male to grin.
"Why don't you shut up, Mr. Tin Can?" the Drunk guffawed at his own horrible joke. "You can't even hurt me! It's against the law or whatever."
Cruor didn't even think twice, his hand shooting out to punch the man in the face, grimacing as he watched him go down, mentally swearing. And here he thought that he was going to be able to finish his day in peace and quiet, without his superiors hearing anything horrible about his patrol. Well, he supposed he wasn't technically on patrol anymore but if his superiors didn't hear about this he would be shocked. As he heard the scrape of chairs across would and the sound of scuffling feet and angry muttering, Cruor cast his gaze towards the musician on stage, looking mildly amused.
"...Oops." he murmured, not looking at all apologetic as the other patrons quickly moved out of the way of the angry group of men now rushing towards them.
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 5:09 pm
Dane could feel the first vestiges of irritation bloom in his gut as the men in the back of the pub grew more persistent and their drunkenness became more obvious. The guitarist didn’t give two shits if they didn’t like his music—that wasn’t the problem, and besides, anyone who didn’t like it had rather poor taste in music in Dane’s esteemed opinion. What bothered him was instead the fact that the drunk jerks in the back were disrupting the fragile symbiosis between him and his more appreciative audience. For though they may not have liked the stream of notes flowing from his guitar right now, there were enough present who did like his music to keep the dark-haired man around.
In between notes, Dane lowered his hand to the knobs at the end of the guitar, turning up the feed slightly in order to drown out the drunken jeers. The fix was only temporary, and the witch turned to the side, fixing a pointed stare at the bored-looking sound guy to amend the situation. When the man returned his attention to the stage in front of him, he couldn’t help the expression of surprise that crossed his face. They were closing in on him in a slow, drunken sway, pushing tables and chairs aside to make their way to the stage. Had he done something?
A glance just below gave him the answer, his green eyes making contact with the Blackheart’s red ones just as one of the drunks slumped to the ground cradling his face. The armored man found the situation amusing, and for a moment Dane was inclined to feel the same way. As things began flying in the air and the jeers became shouts, though, it was hard to find it funny anymore.
Especially as a half-full tankard sailed through the air toward the witch, grazing his forehead but dousing the musician in a generous amount of ale. Dane didn’t bother trying to figure out whether it had been aimed at him or at the Blackheart standing below him—it could have been extremely well-aimed or poorly aimed. Either way, Dane’s fingers stopped moving, the music cutting off suddenly to reveal the angry buzz in the air now.
Taking care to place his instrument back into its stand before continuing, he grabbed hold of a free microphone stand, swinging it around to whip it into the group. His face expressed a cold seethe, though he was not so much enraged as he was annoyed by the trouble that was sure to spring forth. “How troublesome.”
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Posted: Wed Apr 18, 2012 10:29 am
As the rest of the group advanced Crour easily slipped into a fighting stance, looking a little bored with the turn of events. Honestly a bunch of drunks at a pub would be easy prey considering what he fought against normally. He almost felt bad for the men that were advancing on them... If it weren't for the fact that someone had just thrown a tankard at the musician on stage. Eyes narrowed he glanced at the man who seemed equally as annoyed, using a mic stand as a weapon.
"Indeed." Cruor agreed, lifting an arm to block a blow from one of the men before punching him in the face, sending him staggering backwards into his group of friends. "Though I'm sure we'll have it taken care of in no time."
Really his behavior that evening was quite unprofessional for a Black Heart, a warrior that was supposed to defend the very people he was now brawling with. However, really, some people just deserved a good beating every so often, people like these drunks and, well, Ashkii. Besides it wasn't as if he got a chance to be in such scuffles very often considering he rarely frequented pubs like the one he was currently in.
Another man fell to the ground with a groan as he struck him, his tail lashing from side to side in irritation as he watched him slump, unconscious. Crimson eyes then slid back up to lock on the rest of his companions, arching a brow at them in silent question; there was no way that he would openly attack them (again) but he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself. Another man launched himself at him with an enraged, drunken roar, causing the Black Heart to sigh and roll his eyes.
"...And here I was just looking for a quiet drink..." he muttered, glancing at the musician out of the corner of his eye, addressing him when he spoke. "Since it seems we're going to be fighting together, I suppose I should at least know your name."
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