Lypse

CH ONE: Windkeep

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"I give im' a week. Boy's eye-"

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"Shaddup, ye' say th-"

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"Ey! More scurva-"

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Syl initially woke in a dark room, it smelled of old dust and mildew. Muttering was heard around the corners, and thuds upon countertops echoed all around the place. The beams of sunlight piercing through the broken roof blinded his eye, and he shifted his head lopsidedly. Lifting a hand to his face, he felt small cuts dent his skin like tiny ravines. A thin patch of cloth was loosely draped over a side of his head, seemingly soaked in liquid. Breathing deeply, his senses were overwhelmed with strong alcohol.

"E' looks ta' be up!" Someone across the room yelled in Syl's direction. "Ye' owe me a glass!" A scoff was heard, and then the creak of wood against wood. The boy could only see a big burly blur approach him from where he sat. "Ye' wake boy, er' are ye' just havin' death throes?" Focusing, Syl could make out a tall, built man sporting a thick beard and bald head. "Death throes, leave me to em'." He frowned, some of the alcohol applied to his face trickling into his mouth as he spoke. His good eye saw another indistinct blob quickly raise a limb from across the room, presumably at a table. "Amen!" The room filled with small chuckles as Syl grimaced. The bearded man standing over him raised an eyebrow. "Either way, git' before ye' die er' scamper off somewhere else. Ye' lucky we cleaned yer' eye boy." Blinking his eye in an attempt to remove the dust particles affecting his vision, Syl easily picked himself up from the floor, bruised but still lean and powerful. The bearded man stepped closer, causing Syl to recoil for just a second before realizing he was placing something in his pocket. "Ye' won't survive out ere' with just yer' fists boy, take et'." Syl reached down to feel a long and slender object in his pocket, and nodded. "How kind. If I ever meet you again I might toss you a coin or two." The man snorted heartily. "Sif' yer' still alive then."

Syl removed the heavy soaked rag from his face, letting it drop to the floor with a wet thud. "Worry about yourself, first." And with that, he promptly left through the busted tavern doorway, letting everyone gaze openly at his gouged eye.