[Open] Kicking and screaming.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#1


Are
Being reduced to what amounted to human porridge in a skin bag and brought back from the brink of death had taken it's toll on Caido's worst warrior, now not much worse for the wear, but confined to a simple cot in hopes recovery would be swift. It wasn't the looks he felt whenever he turned his head, neither was it the murmurs of a shift in the state of the realm none wanted to spit out, not even the stingy serving of watery broth was it that had him in a mood almost as bad as when he was first dragged out of the mess he had gotten himself into. No, boredom, pure and proper boredom had Are incessantly fiddling with a loose thread as if a sour enough expression would turn it into entertainment. Walking had already been shot down, the nurses dragging him back to the cot like an unruly kitten stumbled into the wild. The same nurses who was far too busy to fetch him a single needle so he could busy his hands with something more productive than scratching at the bedpost.

"At least you could have the decency to give me a knife to end it with instead." he grumbled as his prayers for entertainment where answered by a warden dumping a crooked needle and a handful of rags on the whinging cobbler. As cross as he pretended to be he still could've kissed the man who made sure the aching fingers got something to do other than bother the exhausted mind. A mind left wandering as the niggling irritation was finally taken care of. Eyes perking up at the whispered mention of that name he'd herd Jigano spit at him only a few days prior. 'Launcelyn.' Nothing quite like the ones he was used to, left a strange taste in his mouth as he tried to say it. "Lann-se-leen." Are mumbled.

Royalty, he'd gathered, if there even was such a thing in Caido. Not that it mattered much to him, Skötkonung, a would be king smashing his head on coins and throwing crosses at every problem hadn't meant anything to him, so why would the Launcelyn? Was it just a matter of boredom and the taste of something besides a hard bed and cold stone being too tantalizing to pass up? No, it was an idea left to germinate, now poking through the loamy soil of his mind. A seed planted by whom, he wasn't sure, but what he knew was that where he before had been content in keeping his head down, he then and there wanted nothing more than to get involved.
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
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#2

It had started as a good deed. Or at least an attempted one. Nate’s fingers had been itching to help ever since he’d helped with the medical college, and what better way to do that than to help out at the local infirmary? Sure, there was the ever present reminder of some new world order leeering over him more in the infirmary than perhaps anywhere else, what with the noticeboard right around the corner, but he’d always been good at tuning things out.

Apparently though, he wasn’t good enough to do any kind of actual helping, his real, if rusty, expertise thrown to the wayside by a distrustful nurse who didn’t believe his words, probably with goood reason. Nate couldn’t say he’d believe himself either. Instead of working on the recently injured, he was relegated to entertaining the recovering, a task that should be easy enough considering there was only one man there.

”Pretty impressive, hearing the latest news from a sick bed.” Nate quipped as he approached, glancing at the edge of the bed before thinking better of it and finding a stool to sit on. ”Guess it’s pretty easy when it’s all anyone coming in here is whispering about, huh?” He laughed shortly, then looked the other man over. ”You look like hell in a handbasket bud. What happened?”
Nate
I always thought that I'd die young
Make some money, be someone
They all love you when you're gone
But who knew life would be so long?
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#3


Are
The once over that he so forced in a vain attempt at making it second nature took far more deliberate effort then Are had the energy to waste on. A quick glance had to do. A short respite in his fruitless attempts at making something of the rags and coarse thread. What he found was suspicion, from where the cobbler couldn't say, maybe it was the way the man carried himself or the simple fact that he was the first one to give Are the time of day for any reason other than the call of duty.

Gut be damned. he thought, sighed, and set down the mess of cloth and thread in his lap. The man's brazen attitude a breath of fresh air in the face of stale whispers and mutters of malcontent. Little did Are know fully how starved of some proper conversation he was. Usually one content with keeping to himself for days on end, the cobbler didn't realize how much the boredom had worn on him until he was there without much else to do but listen and rest.

And think.

A curt smile and a grunt was all the answer the first question got. Maybe not news as much as enough loose statements to put together what all the fuss was about, and it didn't look all too bright in the eyes of the weak cobbler.

"Rocks, a bunch of them, or well, one hefty one." he said and groaned as he sat up a bit more. Not broken, that did the strange horse make sure of, but fully exhausted from the ordeal and a good deal less prone of spontaneous ramblings than usual. Still, he persevered and bravely went on. "Got caught in a bad spot, going of alone was a stupid idea, but I got lucky. Now I'm here... What's your story?"
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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#4

Making himself look like whatever kind of person he wanted to be had always been a skill of Nate’s, his whole posture and body language screaming open. Kind Whatever he needed to be to keep the suspicion in the other mans face to a minimum, the expression easy to read. Or maybe the man was just upset about being pulled away from... whatever it was his hands were doing. Nate knew how to stitch together exactly one thing, anything other than flesh had him confused.

At least the recovering man was in an agreeable enough state to respond to him. There was nothing more disappointing than trying to strike up a conversation and being ignored, especially when it was his current job to entertain the man. Nate couldn’t help but be a little greateful that his first attempt had gone mostly unrespinded to, politics were not his usual strength, and he understood the ones here even less than the ones at home.

”Rocks, huh?” Nate echoed, Turkic an unfortunate laugh into a quickly stifled cough. ”They’ll get you every time.” It was maybe a little mean spirited, but at least he managed to not laugh, only grin his way through the words. As for his story? ”I don’t really have much of a story, I popped up here any I’ve been trying to convince the gatekeepers here,” Nate gestured vaguely in the direction of the nurse who’d put him to work, “that I can help out. S’why I’m here.” Nate sighed, running a hand through his hair, then turned back towards Are.

”Sorry. I’m sure you’re great when you’re not beat to shit, but this just isn’t what I was expecting.”
Nate
I always thought that I'd die young
Make some money, be someone
They all love you when you're gone
But who knew life would be so long?
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#5


Are
Are echoed the stifled laugh at his bare-bones explanation of his misadventures, a little dry wit was nothing he couldn't take. Even better than that, it did far more good to him than any pity ever could had hoped to do. Pity he had enough of himself, pity and self-loathing as stubbornness and brashness ran low.

Contradiction, there seemed to be a story hidden underneath layers of what Are assumed was humbleness, but what a small part of him saw as perhaps something more insidious. Assuming the best came naturally, but always a niggling doubt there was something worse behind it, such was the nature of a worrying cobbler. Now a worrying warrior, a warrior defeated by a bunch of rocks...

"That's a story to me, for what it's worth." he mumbled and shone a weak smile, a stiff one in hopes a little sunshine would keep the doubts away. Another weak laugh, elicited by a similarly weak compliment. "No, I assure you, I'm even worse when I have my health. Actually though, what where you expecting?"
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
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#6

His words, and laugh, hasn’t seemed to offend, a fact that brightened Nate’s face the slightest. He had even managed to earn himself a laugh in return, or at least what he assumed was a laugh. It was a little dusty, but probably the best he could expect from a guy who’d lost a fight to some rocks.

”You must have been here a while, if that was a story to you.” Nate returned the smile with a bright one of his own, and leaned in, looking over his shoulder conspiratorially before turning back towards Are. This was actually more interesting than what he’d been expecting, it could even be described as, dare he say it, fun. Funny, how quickly his mind could be changed.

The question was met with a noncommittal hum, Nate rolling it over in his mind. What had he been expecting? ”I guess... something like when I was first learning to do this kinda stuff. Some sad lonely old guy, recovering from some sad lonely old guy thing. You’re the kinda guy I wouldn’t mind getting a drink with, or... whatever it is they do in this place.” Drinks were probably safely universal, but maybe it had just been luck that he’d met Adam early on. Lord knew Sam didn’t drink.
Nate
I always thought that I'd die young
Make some money, be someone
They all love you when you're gone
But who knew life would be so long?
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#7


Are
"Seems like an eternity." he concurred, voice not much more than a murmur. Careful to not disrupt whatever fragile flow of conversation had been established, chewing the inside of his cheek to not let an eager tongue slip and ruin it.

An eternity it had seemed indeed, time slowing down to a crawl for a man used to never being out of work or talk. Restless would have been an understatement, absolutely teeming with a need to do something, but somehow patient enough to not interject as Nate made his way through his thoughts. He perked up at the mentioning of a drink. Not one to go past the point of a pint or two, in the old world at least, the cobbler had found some kind of solace in the cup. For good and for bad.

He despised it, he loved it. A chance to let the worries wash away for a night, but an opening for idiocy to go unchallenged, as evident by his little evening communion with the Shepherd. There was always that little something though, that gave him the nudge he so sorely needed to get past his own doubts and step into the unknown.

Sometimes drink, sometimes stubbornness, and sometimes boredom.

"Aye, drink. I could use a couple of those, always seem to get me in trouble though." the cobbler-warrior said with a laugh, mind fixed on what sense of optimism his father had instilled and pushing the strange gut feeling back down. "Selling your soul ain't something I'd do sober, I tell you that! Not that it ever did me much good in the first place."
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#8

The bedridden man seemed to perk up at the mention of a drink, and Nate grinned, knowing he had found a indeed spirit. Or at least the beginnings of one. He looked around the room, wondering if anyone would notice him slinking down to the Rathskeller and bringing them both something back up. God knows he would have appreciated it any of the times he’d found himself in the other mans position. It seemed a touch to risky though, so instead Nate sighed, and turned back to his temporary charge.

”Trouble and drinking always go hand in hand.” Nate laughed, shifting to be more comfortable while he did. ”I’d you’re lucky though, sometimes it gets you out of trouble.” What came out of the injured man next piqued Nate’s interest though, and he leaned forward. He’d heard the expression selling your soul before, but something about how it was said just guaranteed a story.

Perhaps he was talking about one of the gods? Nate knew of about one of them, nowhere near enough to tell which one might take a soul, and so he sought the other of least resistance. ”Was ir worth what you sold it for?” He kept his voice light, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t probing for information.
Nate
I always thought that I'd die young
Make some money, be someone
They all love you when you're gone
But who knew life would be so long?
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 31 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301 | Total: 311
MP: 0
#9


Are
Are echoed the laugh, with as much gusto as he could muster, for it was far more true than he had even realized himself. Truly the ale had stoked the fire to many a foolish venture, maybe not fueling it as much as giving him the last push needed to make it past the hump and well on his way before he had managed to sober up. Yet what had started it all hadn't involved a drop of it, just tears.

"You have no idea." he mumbled as his laughter faded out to a a warm smile. A smile betraying maybe a touch too much trust in a stranger with a kind face, the kind of face he should've known better than to give an inch. For the mile he was taking came like the rising tide, inevitable and only something a fool couldn't had seen coming. Not one to start down a good story and not end it, Are sighed and settled down a touch in the hard cot.

"Absolutely, it gave me a taste of home back, a scent faded with every breath I've taken in this world. Something to remember, to honor, and fight for." he said with a sigh, remembering the name and all it brought with it was still hard on the man, saying it even more so. "It was a part of who I was, and will now always be a part of who I become."


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