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Heros worst enemy.(open just a bit of fun)


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The streets would find themselves rather bare, upon what appeared to the new comer a perfectly good day, but as Belgorion stood upon the street, he could only assume everyone was lounging comfortably somewhere indoors. He would let his blue eyes run a trail down himself. Disgusting would be the only thought; his fine silk trousers, and shirt were covered with road dust, even the hilt of his steel rapier which hung loosely at his side had found itself without shine for its thick covering of the offensive substance.


Letting his hand rise, he would slowly trace a finger through his silk-like, blond hair stopping just as his fingers reached the silver chain, and cross that bound his hair in a top knot which seemed to stick out amongst his odd appearance, as if to put a great exclamation point upon the singular being that was Belgorion Ikorit Iamarsa. He would sigh slightly as he looked about. He had journeyed far and wide in search of mystery, treasure, adventure, and found more than his fair share of danger. Yet at the moment he faced, it would seem, his most dangerous foe and old archenemy of incredibly dangerous potential. This enemy none other than the vile creature known as boredom


He had arrived in Caemlyn scant minutes before, expecting to find it bustling with life, and action only to find it dead. He would give a light sigh, as he strode down the street at a slow, casual pace. His black silk garb blowing slowly in the wind. The luck of the sun seemingly shone on him today, as within minutes he would have found himself standing out side an inn. The place, The Serpents Tail, as it proclaimed itself, was a large plain two story building with a thatched roof which Belgorion would give a slight smile at noticing the inn needed no repair. Queen Morgase obviously did well for her people. He had heard tails that the woman was cold as ice, and twice as cunning as a demon, as well as a great beauty.


Belgorion wondered briefly what it would be like to meet such a woman. He had never met a woman whom could match him in wits, and had once bragged if he did he would marry her, and bed her at once. The inside of the Serpent’s Tail was rather cozy as he saw it. The main story was composed of a small common room which was at the moment only patronized by three or four individuals one of which bore the symbol  of the Caemlyn throne upon his breast plate obviously a member of the city guard off duty, and enjoying the prosperity of the city he protected. The barkeep, a rather portly man by the name of Henry, would already have given Belgorion a smile, and in an accent which overflowed with the rich Scottish accent, spoken to Belgorion “ What be Ye name boy, and what can I do for ye?.”


Belgorion would smile at the man as he spoke, before replying, his own accent changing instantly to the fair tones of the east. He had no reputation here, and he was intent upon keeping it that way. “ The name is Draven Nero Heartsbane. and I would like a room, and bored. These words would be punctuated by the production of twenty or so gold coins, which would be deposited upon the bar. All were pure, and rather heavy. This Bel had done on purpose. The weight of his gold he was sure would be uncommon even here starting the rumor that he might be a lord.


The man would simply smile as he pointed to a staircase, which led from the common room to the upstairs. “ Third door on the right, the mistress Anan will draw you a hot bath when you are ready for it.” His relevant business attended to, Belgorion would take a seat at one of the clean sturdy tables of the common room, ordering a sweet ale, which he intended to sip as he observed the common room, likely it would be more lively come night fall.



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The day would grow old, ushering in the night, and with it the city would awaken before Belgorions’ very eyes. He had sat within the common room most of the day, seemingly partaking rather heavily of the ale. In reality of course, the wanderer was listening, soaking up every detail of the city he could garner from the conversations about him. He had gathered, by now, the reason for the bareness of the streets. Today, it seemed, was a day of remembrance in honor of the queens long past, and what they had accomplished for their people.


Belgorion had also gathered, in a very interesting conversation with a very drunken guard, that tomorrow would be the day of giving, when the people might come with small requests of their queen. Belgorion, of course, was all ears;  it would seem he might catch a glimpse of this queen Morgase after all. The result, of course, of this being he was all smiles as he made his way upstairs. hopeful of a hot bath, and warm bed.


The mistress Annan, as it turned out, was a force to be reckoned with. If Belgorion had assumed Henry to be the one in charge of the Inn, all such assumptions quickly faded upon their abrupt meeting. The woman was a powerhouse. Short, but muscled, she almost resembled a dwarf in build. He would find her scurrying to and fro about the bathhouse arranging things, even to his great surprise slinging one of the great brass tubs out of the way as if it were a simple heap of cloth.


The women would round on him as he knocked on the door, her voice coming out like a wagon wreck on the street. ‘ Here for Yer bath are ye?” These words would be punctuated by a sharp point at a bathtub, which surprisingly already steamed with hot water, and wonder of wonders; Caemlyn was apparently rich enough to afford proper soap. Belgorion would simply stand there, taken aback by the sheer presence of the women for a moment.


This she obviously took as shyness on his part, as mirthlessly she would laugh “ Ha you ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before boy”, and to Belgorions’ surprise she would actually stand there waiting, but if she thought this would rattle him she was wrong. Common bathhouses were the norm in many places, and to his satisfaction he would note the whispered. “ Maybe you do” under her breath as his clothes fell to the floor, and he submerged himself for the next hour or so in what he thought might have been the best bath he had ever taken.


He would emerge some hours later to a bustling common room; people were drinking, and laughing all in all it was a lively seen. A gleeman had taken up in his absence, and was about a third of the way through a rousing rendition of the story of Jane Farstrider. Belgorion would be dressed in his now clean to his satisfaction clothes as he settled down to listen this one had been a favorite of his as a child.


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