Scarlet Shadows [VERY SLOW UD]

Chapter ?: Moonblade Servitude

Hear ye, this tale of old
Thy moonblade, it be a claw to hold
Or mayhap an elven soul, say lost from their glade
If ye wish to keep thine hands of yers
Then better leave alone the moonblade of old...
Said to choose its master, of elven destiny
Be it a devil, an angel, mayhap even ye scoundrel
'Tis said the double-edged blade has a heart of Everfrost cold...

~°~

Thanathiel adjusted the collar of his cloak as he looked over the mug of cold, fine ale he had been nursing through the night, his eyes once again sweeping the rowdy tavern as he tuned out the never-ending bursts of raucous laughter from inebirated humans, dwarves, and other demihumans alike. While a trio of his fellow elves were chatting and laughing rather softly in a corner.

The mixed races were littered all over the tavern's first floor, lost in their own drunken worlds of tales and odes, almost drowning out the lively and colorful music coming from the side stage of the tavern. The alcoves on the second level were only half-occupied, and at this time of the night, they were most likely merchants dealing with either high-value or illegal merchandise--or both.

The tavern was built in such a way as some arenas might be. The first floor was a mostly-level space littered with semi-organized circular and square tables with chairs, while the upper level was rather like a wide balcony or catwalk, running around the back and both sides of the tavern, with stairs right by the entrance, and just to the sides near the front of the bar. Alcoves with curtains for privacy were evenly-spaced about the upper floor, and were rented by the barkeep.

The door to the tavern opened, and the laughter and conversations either diminished in volume, or stopped altogether. As Thanathiel's slanted, sky-blue eyes settled briefly on the newcomer, who softly closed the door after him, the other customers' eyes lingered for a bit on his cowled form as said newcomer made his way, unmistakably, over to Thanathiel.

When the crowd realized this, most of them quickly averted their eyes, seemingly finding either the lamps bolted to the walls or their mugs of ale significantly more interesting than this unknown creature who obviously seeks the services of the infamous Thanatos, here in the city of Tempere.

The newcomer lithely sat beside Thanathiel, who nonchalantly resumed sipping his precious mug of dark ale. The visitor then quietly knocks a gold coin twice on the counter before covering it with his hand and sliding it to the barkeep.

Pilfering the coin off the counter with a very smooth and inconspicuous swipe of a rug, the barkeep looks at Thanatos, who unclasps two of the buttons on the top of his cloak, a subtle signal that he is going to talk with a "special customer", to which the barkeep responded by filling two mugs with ale and thunking them in front of the pair.

Thanatos then drummed his fingers on the counter, not minding the ale foam that sloshed into his hand. Without showing any signs of recognition or emotion, the barkeep wiped his hands on the same rug with the coin and went to the room in the back, giving the two some privacy.

The two didn't mind the other patrons, as aside from being a small distance away and immersed in their own stupor, they knew that no one would even want to hear any exchange between Thanatos and his client.

The "client" is actually Thanatos's friend and contact to his homeland, the sylvan city Theniterisanelvatherquisst, or Theteri-elvan, as the other races have shortened it to.