Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine
Blood on the Stump
Duke Smiddich had apparently walked in on quite a scene.
His crowd of hangers on were shuffling listlessly, not knowing where to look. Sir Nemean and the Imperatrix had obviously been in the middle of something, and once they were sprung, the tensions on their coils had snapped. Nemean looked confused, Alyssa looked furious and hurt, and a short, rusty haired knight had clapped her black gauntlets on his arm.
"Sir!", said the braided knight, wearing a black padded jacket and a purple surcoat with a heraldric pin, "I must ask you to leave!"
His eyes narrowed on the knight protector. Black and purple, a left-facing hunting bird. House Noire.
***
He had purchased this locale long ago, while he was still Duke in Bescanon.. back when there was a duchy in Bescanon. Oh, she was a fine city and his first real command in Perdan. He thought back on those days fondly. They had a new King, then a new Queen; portal magic was out of control on both sides. Perdan and her new Knights and refugees were finally making a name for themselves and carving out glory for themselves.
There hadn't been much call for renovations on this dingy dive; it wasn't meant to make money. Instead, she served as a clandestine location for meetings, gambling, and a venue for the performing arts. Smiddich hadn't thought much on the 'Stump until he heard that his knights had been frequenting again, sometimes in public and sometimes in private.
Those that knew him before, when he was a mere Knight of Xavax, thought him fierce; he was fierce, and feared, and smelled of smoke and gunpowder. His low speech, bad habits and questionable morality spoke of an adventurous upbringing as a privateer. A deft hand with a cutlass and the compunction to use it at the merest slight made him unapproachable... practically feral.
The Perdan duchy appointment had cooled all of that. That, before, was pleasure, and this was business... the business of keeping his realm running. As much as he tried to deny it, he found a life of wealth and affluence appealing, and slowly the rough exterior was plastered with a veneer of untouchable civility. His rough speech was as clipped into sensibility as his facial hair, and he groomed both fastidiously. A Duke had to make appearances.
Which was why it was so important to have a place to relax, enjoy a drink and a smoke, and utterly destroy some fools at cards every once in a while.
***
The Black-bladed Duke gave way as Alyssa shoved her way through in no uncertain terms, "My apologies, your Grace!", she mumbled, and the gauntlet released off his arm as if burned.
"What in the bloody hells?", exclaimed the Duke finally, "This is my bloody pub!"
