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Old 04-13-2011, 05:32 PM
die2self die2self is offline
Experienced Adventurer
 
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: another state of mind
Posts: 153
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"Go back to your den of thieves, law man! Your god, your rules, your judgments, have no residence here!"

Crae couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, as he dismounted the weather-beaten saddle atop his horse, Sephir. It never failed to amaze him that, despite the assistance the Empire had provided to the neutral town where the Dragon tavern resided, his welcome was anything but warm. His tattered overcoat, non-descriptive equipment, and plain leather saddlebags didn't always fool those who paid attention to such details: a small stitched emblem of a single metal 'gear', indicative of the Steel Empire and it's officials. As to what division denizen's of the Empire belonged to was never apparent, but this particular rider was no stranger to the town or the Dragon Tavern.

They knew he was a hunter of things unnatural to the realms, and given the authority by the Emperor Ajen to exercise the laws of peace upon the unjust, and vanquish the evils which disrupt that longing peace. Misconceptions of the Inquisition have spread so far as that many believe they are mercenaries or bounty hunters out for only themselves and monetary gain. But the fact of the matter is the drive which keeps an Inquisitor focused and maintained, goes much deeper than any mere bag of silver, gold, and precious jewels....

But an atonement.

The Inquisitor let out a long sigh while staring through tired eyes at the front entrance of the infamous Dragon Tavern pub and inn. A gloved hand ran along his reddish-brown beard, noting the fact that he hadn't properly cleaned up in several days since he left the borders of his homeland.

"A sight for sore eyes indeed" He mused, stroking the neck of his horse, and holding the reigns in one hand.

And how I long for a hot bath, a warm bed, and peace of-

"Spare a few coins, sir?" The child-like voice stirred him out of his brief reverie, and he peered down to see a little girl no more than eight or nine, dirt riddled face, dark hair tied back, dressed in nothing but rags and torn shoes, holding a single white flower out toward the man. Crae could see a small basket sitting on the ground next to her full of flowers of different species and colors, and he concluded she was selling her wares rather than begging for a handout. Her little green eyes stared intently, with much humiliation behind them, but a pride that kept her standing strong nevertheless.

"I suppose I do, young lady." The man reached into a pocket inside his overcoat and presented three silver coins, and one gold coin which bore the mark of the Empire, which he promptly placed in her hand. "This should do it".

The little girl's eyes widened at the sight of so much money, evidently more than she had bargained for. A brisk wind blew the single white flower from the little girl's grasp and at the feet of the tall man. Crae reached down to the pick up the lone flower, but when he returned his posture, the little girl was gone. Only the small woven basket of various exotic flowers were left behind, rustling in the cool breeze.

Tired and hungry, he slipped the stem of the flower into his coat pocket, and lead his horse toward the stables right next door to the tavern. He had been happy with the accommodations in the past and hoped the quality hadn't gone astray since the last visit. Once Sephir was settled in and secure, Crae slung the travel bag over his shoulder and made his way into the warmth of the Dragon Tavern.

As usual, the tavern had been a hot spot for many travelers coming from all corners of the land, and being the center of trade and commerce throughout the three realms, it brought multicultural food, wines, ales, and music. The Inquisitor surveyed the dining area, until he located an unoccupied table close to the stairs, a table he remembers utilizing in the past due to it's broad vantage point. It appeared as though most of the staff on hand, which was slim at best, were quite busy with each table. Crae removed his gloves and pulled the lit table lantern toward him in order to warm his hands as best he could. Moments after, he reached for the white flower in his pocket and examined it, more-so out of weariness than anything, and cracked a smile.

Maybe this place wasn't all bad...

Last edited by die2self; 04-15-2011 at 02:32 PM. Reason: mr typo struck again!
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