Blood & Scale in Fantastical Role Plays Posted March 11, 2016 · Report post The coming hours were full of food, drink and merriment. Bradan and the other Dwarves had gathered in an enormous hall, Rows of tables were lined up across the length of it with benches for each, and there were hundreds of Dwarves seated around them. They had moved some tables and made space in the corner of the room for Auriel, and Turiel had joined them as well. The group sat in the tables nearby the two dragons and they gorged themselves on roasted boar, with plenty of bread, cheese, grapes and apples to go around. Agron had set aside a large section of his plate for potatoes, that had been chopped up and deep fried in large vats of boiled grease. "Ah fuckin' missed chips!" He said happily as he stuffed another handful in to his mouth. He was on his 11th or 12th pint by now, and he had become rosy in the cheeks, with a glassy stair. "Now...where was I? Oh, aye!" He cried, gesticulating wildly with the large chip in his hand. The Dwarves settled in, listening intently. "So there we were! Just me an' Jona...and we're dragons anaw, ken?" He flailed his arm towards Turiel, who gave shook his head disapprovingly, but his eyes glinted with amusement. "This fuckin' upstart Lord, Vemryn was his name. Well, this was...whit...well it was fuckin' ages ago, ken? Anyway, This wee cunt managed to rally a couple' hunner folk tae follow 'im. Came marchin' up fae Brae Mor, torched three fuckin' villages along the way. Took the fuckin' fight right tae oor door, kin ye fuckin' believe the bollocks on 'im?" A grumbling noise of agreement settled across the table as the drunken Dwarves nodded. "So the rest o' the Riders have fucked off doon tae Makarash for some fuckin' council nonsense. So s'me an' Jona versus a few hunner numpties wi' swords an bows. So I ride doon on Turiel, ken, and am a young lad back then, eh, so I'm fuckin' rarin' for a swedge an' they cunts were askin' for it. Time a git doon there, Sariel's swoopin' o'er the whole fuckin' brigade. Archer's were pish, not a fuckin' bolt hit 'im. Sariel lands next tae this Vemryn bastard, fuckin' knock his horse oot fae under 'um wi' a swish o' his tail!" The ripple of laughter coursed over the table, but then people settled once more. "So Vemryn's on his arse, an Jona fuckin' hops off and grabs the poor cunt. He punches the bastard square in the puss, strips him down and takes his keks aff. Ties the fuckers tae the own boy's spear and hauds it in the air, waving the fuckin' thing back and forth. And he yells 'that's it lads, ye've surrendered, now fuck off back to yer shiteholes 'fore ye hauf tae tell yer missus why ye've nae breeks left!" The table erupted in raucous laughter, and Turiel let out a growl of mild irritation. He turned to Auriel.He tells this story every time he get's drunk. Each time it differs. Turiel shook his head. The thing is I have no recollection of the events for the life of me. I am almost certain he dreamt it once after too much whisky. Oh lighten up, will you, Auriel playfully nudged her side into Turiel. Let them have some fun, She turned to watch Vaedwyn laughing at Agron's story. Usually she felt a constant thrum emanating from the young girl. Pain, fear, doubt. But right now, it was almost gone. Auriel wanted that to last, at least a little while. She let out a long sigh that made several of the nearest Dwarves shuffle uncomfortably. They've earned it. Turiel fell silent in contemplation, glancing over at the table every so often. Meanwhile Agron was silent once more on account of his mouth being crammed full of another large handful of chips. The table fell silent for a moment, everyone sipped at their drinks, and mumbled to themselves, waiting for someone to speak up. "Sho wish ye lot bin doin' aw thesh yearsh, eh?" Agron asked, his mouth still full of chips. "Livin'," Bradan spoke up, interrupting the Dwarf beside him who tried to answer. Bradan packed his pipe before hanging it from the corner of his mouth, "Wha' ye'spect? We've no King ruinin' are day. Ged up, has a drink, plough, kiss 'er g'bye an' work the fiel'," He lit his pipe, "An' wha'bout yoo, Rider? Where yoo been then, eh? Me great daddo said the Riders wouldn' stop until they'd taken the throne from Aemon. We might be coards, aye, whats yer excuse?" Agron's expression became sober for a moment. He examined the contents of his tankard for a moment, considering how to answer. "Thir ur some stories a kin tell...an' others I cannot." He replied finally. "It were winter...the snows had fallen heavy, but oan tha' day..." Agron sucked in a shaky breath as he recalled. "...The snow wis stained red. History books tell ye the last stand wis at Myre's Gap. Many o' the men folk had turned sides a' that time, but few still remained loyal. Men o' Lendsay, Rekash, an' Damascia. The Nords stood strong but they had fallen greatly in number. The Elves, o' course, wir the most resilien', but the old yins think about the long game, ken. They could tell tha' we wir fightin' a loosin' battle. Eighteen Riders still lived, but on'y five dragons. By the end o' the battle there wir on'y two. Those that lived fled, or surrendered. I dinnae blame a one o' them fir tha' though." Agron drained the last of the contents from his tankard. "But...history is told by the winners, they say. Another battle came after that. Jona and I, an' a few other brave souls, we faced off one last time against Aemon an' his Riders. A foolish choice. In the end...I'd be dead anaw, and Turiel, had it no been for Jona an' Sariel's sacrifice. Turiel lost the last o' his brothers, the last of his kin. That's when it sunk in. If a died...if Turiel died, there'd be nae dragons left 'cept Aemon's. So I fled, an' I hid. On'y one bit o' good came fae that battle." Agron put his arm around Vaedwyn like a proud father, and he beamed as he looked at her, and then to Auriel. "See...I did'nae flee wi' out a wee prize for ma troubles. I stole an egg...a female. The last chance o' a bright future." Agron removed his arm from Vaedwyn, and leaned across the table, with a serious look. "There's more tae tha' story, Bradan. But I cannae tell ye it. Things ha' been happenin' aw this time, aw these years. We never stopped fightin'. There are forces that move in the shadows...ones that move tae strike out against Aemon when the time is right. Ye'll just have tae trust that they ken what they're doin'...cause I cannae tell ye no more." Bradan was silent for the entire story, his face unreadable. By the time the story was told, the room had fallen silent. Not a single Dwarf remained jovial, they hung their heads in their cups and tankards. Bradan held the end of his pipe and took a long drag, chewing the smoke before exhaling it, "Thas' a sour taste..." He muttered, not referring to his pipe. The Dwarves murmured their agreement. "We bin actin' the pack 'o fools," A woman spoke up, as she approached the table, a pint in her hand and her face and fingers stained with soot, which didn't dull her raw, wild beauty, "Bunch o' yahoos wi'faces in'a rock. While tha' lot been dyin'. Am sorry, Rider, fe'me an' mine. We wronged ye." "Aye Moira, we have an'that." Bradan buried his face in his mug as he brushed tears away. "Perhaps it'd o' been different if folks like yersel' had been around at the time." Agron replied. "But a hold nae grudges. It's easy tae call ye cowards, or say ye wronged us. But yer people had a home that could protect them fae what was tae come. I wonder if any o' the other races o' Suros wid dae any differen' if they were in yer shoes. In the end we protect ourselves, an' thas nae thing tae be ashamed o', after all ye are aw here now, an' there's nae tellin' if that'd be the case if ye'd rallied tae the call, ken?" "Thank you, for taking us in." Vaedwyn spoke up at last. She stood up and the eyes of the room turned to her, "Auriel and I want you to know that we'll do everything we can to dethrone Aemon." "Ye can star' with takin' is 'ead!" Bradan added quickly, and the room erupted into laughter. "Ah had somethin' made up fer ya," Moira nodded back at the kitchen, and a dozen Dwarves entered the main drinking hall, carrying two enormous barrels. Each one must have had more liquid in them than everyone's drinks in the room combined, and then some. They placed them down in front of Turiel and Auriel and quickly retreated, "Are thanks t'ye, Dragons. We needn' be afrai' a yer sort, an' we're tankful a' all ye done." Turiel lowered his head and sniffed at the barrels, before rearing back in disgust. This is...poison. He said to Agron "it's fuckin' Dwarven Whiskey ya daft ol' lizard!" Agron replied out loud, laughing heartily. It smells like the oil they burn for their siege weapons... Turiel said. "Aye, well...they use it for that tae but..." Agron replied, scratching his head. Turiel gave Agron a skeptical look, and then he tentatively lowered his head to the barrel, and lapped up the contents briefly, but he reeled back, his eyes closed shut. He started retching, his jaws snapping wildly as he hissed and coughed. Then a thunderous belch followed and a plume of fire erupted from his mouth, causing a number of the Dwarves to step back in surprise. Agron slapped his knee and broke into a fit of laughter, tears streaming from his eyes. He laughed so hard that he fell off of his chair and then continued laughing. I don' know whats the fuss about, ish fine, you big old baby! Auriel shared her reply with Turiel and Vaedwyn and she laughed as she realised she'd already consumed a large portion of the barrel. Then regretted laughing as she found herself gripping onto her table as the room span around her. She'd deliberately not taken as much as a sip of alcohol for fear of getting drunk, but it seemed that Auriel was unable to control her senses across their link. It was everything or nothing. And regrettably, it was everything. You're drunk. Vaedwyn poked her jokingly. Dargons don't get drunk, I know my limitsh. Auriel muttered, holding her head up high, as though she was above it all. And i'll thank you not to make the shame comparishun again. Then she started to stand, wobbled and the Dwarves at the end of the table panicked and tried to get away.Lie down! Vaedwyn demanded with a smile, walking up to Auriel while holding the edge of the table for support. She placed her hand on the black Dragon's muzzle. I'm going to step outside for some air, you're making me dizzy.