A Drink or Two...or Six

It was another bustling evening within one of the many local taverns of the capital city of Neslia. This place in particular was the most frequented spot of Biran Wolfborn, the soldier hailing from the wilds. The tavern suited young man because it was decorated wall to wall with the heads, pelts, and horns of the wild game native to the region. The fire was always going with a large bear skin rug right before it, which gave the place a homey feel. It was frequented by many folks who enjoyed hunting for sport. Biran wasn't a hunter by choice, but one of necessity back in his days with his tribe. Even still he found that he could relate to the hunters of this place. Biran was the type that chose to look more at the similarities of people rather than there differences, which was perhaps a reason people like him were so rare around these parts.

On this day the former tribesman was the very first patron to take off his coat at the door and get a seat at the bar. It was an honored first for Biran to see the workers of the city and all of his fellow soldiers enter the tavern, since they're typically all here by the end of his long work day. He was pulling some extra weight this month in order to obtain an exceptional evaluation for his advancement. There was a phrase in the military, 'You can't climb the ladder of success with your hands in your pockets'. Walking or standing around in uniform with a single or pair of hands in one's pockets was a contradiction of good military bearing and an infringement of good character in uniform, which could disgrace the individual and also the division as a whole. Of course more literally, Biran could not think of a man or woman alive that could climb a straight ladder without hands.

Long story put short, every small thing he did now would add to his reputation in his career here. Rank wasn't a big deal to him personally, as it wasn't for the pay raise or getting ahead of anyone. Biran wished to be an example to less motivated warriors. Unfortunately right now at the same rank as most other junior enlisted, he seemed sort of stand offish when he was really just trying to carry his position with pride. A better title would hopefully give him a better platform to stand on, giving peers someone to look up to rather than someone to put down. At least he hoped it would work that way, but there was no way to really tell. Regardless, his rank would be earned and not handed to him and at least he could take pride in that for himself.

Biran was on his third round with his usual drink, a honey mead made by his tribesmen, the Nimkadi. It was a special wine made from the honey of bees mixed with water and sometimes other ingredients for additional flavor. It was a smooth and sweet drink but could often have a pretty hard effect depending on the day you were having. Unlike other producers of honey, the Nimkadi were people of nature and lived off of nature's bounty rather than manipulating it. All Nimkadi honey is straight from a hive source and no bee suits or anything crazy required either, as most Nimkadi were able to commune with creatures of the wild, bees being no exception. The water was collected from the streams that rolled through the very hills Neslia is known for. Any other ingredients were collected from their natural sources, but the traditional and simple recipe was preferred among the hunters of his tribe. Biran's father told him that he once had shared his largest drinking horn with a number of city folk, traders who all loved the stuff and begged the man to provide it to them in large batches. No one could make mead like the Nimkadi.

That was when the Nimkadi set up the deal and have since been cashing in a real economy for themselves so that they can trade with people outside the tribe. It was one of the dumb feats that made his father so highly regarded among the tribe's people, who later would name him Archdruid Ulf Wolfborn. Naturally, with so many connections to home it was really no wonder that Biran ordered the drink so much. No one ever bothered to ask him the story though, they just assumed he simply liked it because he was once a part of the tribe that makes the delicious and intoxicating beverage. Giving the tribe support from afar indeed was a big part of it, but the drink itself bestowed him with fond memories of home and of the time he spent with his father.

Even as the tavern was starting to pick up and boisterous drunken voices filled the air, an sort of calm washed over the white haired soldier. It was like the entire room filled with different sights, sounds, and smells suddenly vanished and he was the only one in an empty room. He imagined for a moment his father beside him, looking at him with pride and a sense of accomplishment, as he always used to do because he thought the son he made was the best thing since sliced bread. Biran wondered if his biggest hero still thought that of him now that he went missing without a word. He wished desperately to go back and tell his father why he did all of this, be able to explain it all to him instead of leaving the man thinking everything he did for his son was never enough. That he failed his son. Biran knew the real failure lied in his own self, for not having the courage to confront his father and mother on this decision before leaving. Now he was left to his own regrets, always feeling like a failure and even a traitor to his tribe. All of this was for them though. Protecting the Nimkadi tribe was the ultimate reason he left and joined the military of the nation, after all. Maybe one day he'd find someone and be able to explain it all to them. Even if they wouldn't understand, it would of been nice to be able to get that all off his chest. Until then, he'd snap out of his trance and slam his empty mug on the table, "Another."

((Well, that's a lot more than 100-350 words x.x sorry for that.
Anyone feel free to stop in though, don't be shy!))

Violet was had a rough week. After surviving time on the front lines, she had been allowed to do a few things. And by a few things that normally meant go home, see family, sleep, not die....things like that. So the plan was to to hone and just relax. But wouldn't you know, her mother had a half baked idea about going off on this journey to find something or another and dad was left to chase after her to make sure she didn't get herself killed. Sure, her mother was a strong warrior but....but... Velvet was an interesting woman. Innocent would be the better term. And more specifically, a child's innocence. So when her mother got the urge to do something, it was easier to just go and follow her through with it than to talk her out of it. So that left Violet with a sense of loss. She needed to do something.

So she ended up walking around town. It wasn't a terrible day to do so, not too cold not too hot. Just enough to be warm if you walked but not over hot you want to step in somewhere after an hour. So she just let her feet take her where they might lead, not really thinking too much on the where rather than on the why bother. Shops were to either side of her, yet none looked interesting enough to entice her into them. And she wasnt exactly looking for any kind of entertainment, not really. Or at least, nothing too exciting. So it really limited her choices to next to nothing. Why was an outside again? Oh right, she was look in go loud noises and chaos. Some thing her mother was good at creating as easily as breathing. Again, interesting woman. Most would more than likely never want to meet her.

Eventually, she had found herself before a bar. Many this was sometbibg she was looking for. Enough controlled chaos with bit of entertainment and no one really looking to sell. Or at least not something you know you will need in order to look this way or that way. Good and drink were sold, but that was . No one goes to a bar with the thought of getting nothing at all. There is a reason everyone comes here, and for most it's to get drunk for what reason they possibly could have. And Violet? Why was she coming in th I place? Well, to be fair, all this walking around was making her a bit hungry. Bars had great bar food. Why pass up a good thing?

Stepping in, her he eyes scanned the area and noticed people were starting to fill the place up. After squeezing her way through, she ended up finding a place next to a guy with dark skin and white-ish hair and another tall brooding man who has seen some things in his time. Good enough. At the bar itself so she got a good bird's eye view of anything if it happened. Perfect. Now to just get some food and eat everything unfold. If anything was to happen.

"An order of breaded chicken." She told the bar man. He nodded and went back to place the order. Ah, breaded chicken. Her mother's favorite. Chicken Nuggets. That woman would go to war just for them alone. Maybe that was what she was after. Maybe she had heard someone say that they didn't like chicken nuggets so she went off to kill them. God rest that person's soul if that was the case. No wonder dad went after her. In Violet's mother's house, chicken nuggets might as well be Jesus for how much she loves them.

The mere thought brought a cold shiver down her spine, shaking visibly.

Her food was placed upon the counter and she bwgan to eat her breaded chicken fingers, just watching and waiting. Again, you never know what could happen in a place like this.