Rise of the Fallen
[TBH] Scotch on the Rocks - Printable Version

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+--- Thread: [TBH] Scotch on the Rocks (/showthread.php?tid=481)

Scotch on the Rocks - Judal - 07-30-2018

The echo of the so-called gods words still rattled in his brain. It was infuriating, just as it was expected. To rise to status of god, whether in truth or by their own belief, it mattered not. Power sought subservience, expected it from any who crossed their paths. It was a reality of the world he had known, had felt the bite of retribution if he did not abide by such lofty delusions. Judal was tired, tired of the shadow cast by those who walked upon another road then him. It was not an awareness born of jealousy or even envy. He had spent far too long beneath the thumb of another. The weight had nearly killed him, a mere casualty that was brushed aside and made into something far lesser than it truly was. Perhaps it was his own selfish desires for freedom, perhaps it was a jaded view of the tainted, but there was something in the idea that someone could, and would hold power over his decisions, even here, that only sparked the flame in his breast. It was why he had made such an uncharacteristic choice and had risen as King.

Suddenly, choices that he could not have made otherwise were available to him, indulgences and attention that the man would have been content without. He didn't take particular interest in the seemingly shallow concerns of the courtiers, the shrewd squabbles over dividing up the land and equine who were mere strangers to him vying for his favor, to take up a position of status amongst his court. The matter was, he would not fall to their honeyed words, would not allow those who had not earned it to rise to a station that would give them power over the lives of the many. While Judal may not have been certain in where he wished Gnomus to go, what his intentions were beyond securing his own freedom, he knew, that whatever the choice would be, he would seek to give other's that very same privilege. 

Yet, he took pleasure in the quiet moments, hidden away from the endless shadows that dogged his steps. A creature of privacy, it irritated him that the silence of the day never seemed to gather as it would, a cloak to shield his thoughts. The muted noise from his ears was a blessing in that at times, he could falsify his inattentiveness. An excuse to ignore their calls the moment he had entered the city, the crowds claiming him from sight. Now, he his foul mood had fizzled out, soothed by the burning of the scotch in his glass, the eyes of the bartender that seemed to flit over him as a mere ghost. 


RE: Scotch on the Rocks - Tempest - 08-11-2018

There had been so much for him to think on as the time passed. He had moved on from Metropolis after the... interesting greetings from the so-called deities of Mythos. There had been only one other that he had seen, a mare whose name he hadn't even received due to her obvious nerves, so Tempest had returned to the city. There were more than enough equines around for him to observe at the very least, perhaps befriend at the most. 

Of course, he has had no such luck in the latter. Yet.

The Metropolis moved with a smooth efficiency that completely contrasted its short existence. There were several booming businesses that he knew were already popular, including The Black Hornet that he was no headed towards. A simple pub that supposedly had a pleasant atmosphere. Tempest wasn't looking to get drunk, simply drink and enjoy the presence of others. He had already ordered an Irish Coffee - calmly ignoring the odd look the bartender shot him for not ordering something stronger - before he recognized one of the other patrons. He couldn't quite put a name to face, but he knew it was one of the stallions that spoke up at the welcoming of the divines.

He hesitated. The painted stallion looked very much like he wished to stay alone but... Tempest didn't want the same, nor did he find any interest in the other patrons, all already grouped up. He steeled himself, gathered his drink, and moved to a polite distance away that still managed to show that he was interested in talking. 

"He speaks." | He thinks.
OOC: @Judal Uhhh, I'm alive? Sorry for the late reply!!! And for uh. How awkward Tempest is. He's socially awkward and doesn't know how to talk to others.
Table © Camy | Image © Luke Stackpoole@ Unsplash

RE: Scotch on the Rocks - Judal - 08-20-2018

Gnomus was a land of wild beauty, treacherous in its sprawling forests and deep alcoves, the land home to creatures he had seen in his wanderings, as well as those that unique to the grasp of Mythos. He had come to know the stretch of jungle that surrounded the Safehold, taking stock of vegetation and climate, the torrential rains and exotic flavors. And yet, the desire to explore continued, and soon enough he left borders to gaze upon the realms. Slowly the lands were changing, becoming something more than a barren, empty world. The Metropolis remained the heart of the burgeoning society. The stores had been what drew him here, these strange, dusty scrolls written in a text both familiar and unfamiliar. Already the fine silks and rich spices came in through trade from across the sea. Judal had found fruit from the region he had recently visited, the prickly rind hiding a sweet flesh. Several such fruit laid at his feet in a netted bag.

The bar had seemed… unassuming, and that was perhaps the reasoning behind the stallion seeking silence in its walls. Judal had never been a creature who dabbled in temptation. The world was far too cruel to weaken his awareness in drink and carnal desires. But it was these sorts places that the equine went when they wished to vanish from sight. The other patrons were far too amored with their own concerns, their own great sorrows they sought to drown in alcohol to pay much attention to anyone else. It wasn’t the sort of seedy place that reeked of its own filth, the windows clean, the wooden floors and barter polished to a sepian shine. It had a warm atmosphere, smelling of smoky wood and wheat. The sort of place he didn’t mind falling into for a time.

Yet it seemed even here, he would not remain out of sight. He had felt it, the gaze upon, more than a mere passing interest. It was tiresome, to know that even here, there were some who could not take a hint. The crown man almost gnashed out a violent retort, if not for the familiar face, fleeting as it had been, falling into view. "Ah. It's the only other man who seems to have any sense in this land." He stated it blandly, casting a slow eye upon the other, only to grimace as he gulped down another burning sip of whiskey. His horn nearly touched the bar surface as he turned to look upon him full, a biting smirk touching his lips. "What brings you here today?"