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Shattered Honour Chapter Three


Parrhesia
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The plump bartender nods, and slides a pint across the table. "On the house. It's been a rough day for you. ... So, working for the Tascarans, eh? Seems an odd choice, but I guess you're too honest to throw in with Strachan's boys."

Edited by Furetchen
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Jack walked over to the bar and shrugged. "I don't know about them, but I was offered money. And then, well... things went poorly and I ended up with them. We were sent on a mission, and as I said, were betrayed. When we ran into our wolf, he offered us money and other incentives to do the job we're in the process of doing right now. But like I said. Wanting revenge helps too."

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Gretel turns out to be a teenager of scarcely sixteen. She beams at you when you come in. "Hi! I'm Gretel the herbalist. We don't get much business, these days, so it's always good to see a fresh face. What can I get for you?"

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He gladly took it and started drinking, sitting himself at the bar. "I guess we can trust you, after all you've done for us. Really, you've been nicer than you needed to be to a bunch of strangers... alas, yes, working with the Tascarans. Most of us are Tascaran. Othidians burnt down my home, so I ran for it, and ended up here." Jack joined the conversation, leaving Jordan another moment to drink, "the rest is as he says, yeah. Trying to get a pardon through all this and stay alive."

Edited by seph1212
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"Mind if I go with you?"

"Of course not. Your company is always welcome."

Within three minutes, they had arrived at the herbalist's shop.

"What can I get for you?"

"I need some healing poultices. A lot of them."

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All at once a large man kicks down the door of the tavern.

"I was just passing by, and I have heard it all! I am the noble and beautiful mercenary, Chrysanthum," he bows, "do you disgusting creatures need my help? Of course you do! That was a rhetoric question, after all..."

Chrysanthum brushes a hand through his hair.

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Gretel shrugs and gives out the ingredients for the basic poultices. Gretel talks incessantly, but you pick up a few things on how to do things more effectively.

Jack walked over to the bar and shrugged. "I don't know about them, but I was offered money. And then, well... things went poorly and I ended up with them. We were sent on a mission, and as I said, were betrayed. When we ran into our wolf, he offered us money and other incentives to do the job we're in the process of doing right now. But like I said. Wanting revenge helps too."

Sheila shrugs. "Well, it's an honest living-"

All at once a large man kicks down the door of the tavern.

"What the hell was that?! You again!" Sheila points a wavering finger at the dashing mercenary.

"I was just passing by, and I have heard it all! I am the noble and beautiful mercenary, Chrysanthum," he bows, "do you disgusting creatures need my help? Of course you do! That was a rhetoric question, after all..."

"Fuck you, pretty boy! You still haven't paid off your tab! Nor those three doors!"

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Jack turns and takes a good long look at the man. "Weeeeeelllll now. Hel-lo there. My name is Jack. Jack of Boeshane. And you say you're Chrysanthum. Now then. It's quite a pleasure to meet you, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist you pay for that door before you join our group."

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Jack smiles. "Well then! Now that that's all settled, welcome! You seem like you will be quite handy in a fight. And you said that you overheard everything? Is there anything that we could clarify for you? Any questions you might have?"

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Bilbo gets there right before the asshole and right after the fight. There's a scrawny guy with a bloody nose and the man he recognizes as the homosexual with a cut on his neck.

Gods help me. I'll be dead by the fortnight.

He overhears something about a herbalist and apothecaries with his experienced ears and heads there, sliding by the big asshole, over the splintered door on the floor and through the empty doorway. He finds the man from the other group. Bilbo grunts a greeting, and gets right to work with the herbalist.

"Oh, young maester. Would you happen to have any medicinal herbs for this wounded old man? I fear I have been taken from my priory, and as a man of the stars, I have no money on me. Pray tell, child, would you spare?"

The bullshitter's talk.

Edited by Stolypin Necktie
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Varon got to work making making the poultices while Gretel was rambling, being sure to use any helpful knowledge instantly. When he was done, he started replying with as much of his own knowledge as he could, mostly about growing conditions and cutting techniques for different herbs.

"Oh, young maester. Would you happen to have any medicinal herbs for this wounded old man? I fear I have been taken from my priory, and as a man of the stars, I have no money on me. Pray tell, child, would you spare?"

Varon looked away from his conversation with Gretel to see the gibbering man from the other group.

"Oh, you. Well yes I do have medicinal herbs now that I've restocked. But you don't seem to be injured."

Edited by Blasied
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He throws a bag of coins at Sheila.

"That should cover it up."

Sheila glances in the bag, looks suspiciously aside at Chrys, bites one of the maxims before finally conceding "Well, that's certainly a change from usual."

"I'm sure I know what there is to know...I'd rather have a drink. Barmaid!"

He slams his fist on the counter.

"ok yeah that's more what i'm used to"

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Jack nods to the man sitting down next to him. "So, Chrysanthum, eh? Little bit of a long name to be shouting out in battle. Do you have a shorter name you like to be called by? If not, I suppose I'll get used to it." He turns and motions for Jacqui to join them. "Now this is the real leader of the group. She just lets me pretend to be in control, but she's the one you want to be paying attention to," he says with a grin.

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He turns and motions for Jacqui to join them. "Now this is the real leader of the group. She just lets me pretend to be in control, but she's the one you want to be paying attention to," he says with a grin.

Jacqui nods. "We're going to murder some deserters. What's your price?"

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"Yes yes murder and all that, I need my drink for now," Chrysanthum waves Jacqui off and throws back his drink, but throws it back too far and falls out of the chair he's in, slamming onto the ground.

"Oh dear, what a mess..." he says as he continues to salvage for what little ale remains in his mug.

"Right! Now that that's over with...my price is not very high, actually," he says as he gets up and dusts himself off, "whatever is the normal price for this sort of thing. And yes, you can call me Chrys, I suppose, but don't you think that it's much less glorious?"

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