Horus pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Sea Breeze Tavern, the familiar scent of ale and roasting meat washing over him. The dimly lit interior was a stark contrast to the bright, bustling streets of Arlathan, but it felt like a haven. He scanned the room, spotting a few regulars hunched over their drinks, but no sign of Ruth yet. Horus adjusted his hat, tipping it slightly as he made his way through the small crowd by the bar. He walked up to the bartender, who gave him a weary look that spoke volumes to the Bartender not wanting any trouble from Horus, something that frequently happened when rum was involved.
I’ll have a bottle of my usual, good ser! He said with a chuckle, And a clean glass this time if you please. the Bartender shrugged and got out a cup and a bottle of rum. Then he made his way to his usual table near the back, a cozy corner where he’d be able to talk undisturbed with Ruth. Sliding into the worn leather booth, Horus sighed and let his eyes wander over the map spread out before him. It was an old, tattered thing, filled with the names of Free Marches towns and villages. His fingers traced the faded ink, trying to piece together the fragments of his past. The revelation that his parents' ship had sailed from the Free Marches had sent a shockwave through him, igniting a desperate need to uncover his roots.
Things of late had been too gooey, full of feelings and sunshine and rainbows. It was enough to make anyone sick with the contagious bout of happiness going around. Megara was intolerable, skipping about planning her and Nairn’s big day. Finally. He was still a bit sore that the assassin hadn’t clued him in on his plans to propose to the Stoner, but then Nairn had always kept things close to his chest… now he kept it close to his ticking clock. So when Horus had sent him word of a night out and a catch up he’d jumped at the chance to get away from the nauseating atmosphere.
The Sea Breeze wasn’t his usual haunt, but it did have a decent troupe of rotating minstrels and entertainment. His gait bounced with the bump of lyrium in his system, mind entertaining what mischief the two would get up to after Horus let him see the map brought. Something about a shipwreck, an old one that he needed help pinning down? Ruth vaguely remembered the details in the note, but given his wanderings the elf was confident he’d have something to contribute. If not, well, they’d enjoy a night on the town and find some chaos to enrol in.
Finding Horus in the place was easy, and approaching the fellow healer Ruth raised his arms into the air. Sup’ Fucker. Ain’t heard from you in months and suddenly it’s, "Dear Ruthie, come help me find this thing. My tiny brain is too small."... Maybe not so much the last part, but you get the jist.
Horus looked up from his drink and broke into a wide grin at the sight of Ruth. He stood up, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder with genuine warmth.
Ruthie! You have no idea how good it is to see you, mate.
He motioned for Ruth to sit, signaling the barkeep for another round. Tiny brain, huh? Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m losing my touch. But hey, I knew you couldn’t resist a good puzzle. Of course, the free drinks and good time are just the added bonus!
Horus’s expression turned more serious as he leaned in. About that shipwreck. It’s not just any old wreck. It happened years ago, off the coast of the Free Marches headed towards Rivain. I was on board, just a toddler at the time, and as far as I know, I’m the only survivor. He’d probably mentioned before about his adoptive parents. Especially since his adoptive mother was the infamous Captain Victoria out of Rivain.
He paused, the gravity of his words settling between them. I need to know what really happened that night. And I have this map—it’s a start, but I’m hoping your sharp mind can help piece together the rest.
Truthfully it was nice to see someone pleased to see him. Dora and Mina didn’t count, two women who didn’t quite fit the regular mould. Everyone had their own agendas and with only one of them did he understand it, at least he thought he did anyways. Remaining unattached was easier, the less strings he had to cut when he eventually fucked things up.
Sliding into a stool he snickered, Teeny tiny brain. Because the last puzzle you brought me was a fucking shopping list. But, free drink, a good time and maybe a potential mystery to solve does sweeten the deal, sure. There was always a good amount of rum for the trouble, even if they ended up being the causes of said trouble. But the job quickly became more than a simple case of finding any wreck, just one in particular.
You sure you want to find this particular one? What if it’s cursed? he tried to tease, but then shook his head afterwards. Ruth then sucked in a breath, releasing as a whistle that pitched and fell. That’s gonna make it complicated then, treasure hunters would be all over it like flies on shit, but according to Horus and what he’d brought, they might have a head start on any others.
Ruth waited until the barman had passed with the drinks ordered, leaning over and drawing the pint to his lips. Less in the open the better, c’mon we’ll find a booth, yeah?
Horus looked up from his drink and broke into a wide grin at the sight of Ruth. He stood up, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder with genuine warmth.
Ruthie! You have no idea how good it is to see you, mate.
He motioned for Ruth to sit, signaling the barkeep for another round. Tiny brain, huh? Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m losing my touch. But hey, I knew you couldn’t resist a good puzzle. Of course, the free drinks and good time are just the added bonus!
Horus’s expression turned more serious as he leaned in. About that shipwreck. It’s not just any old wreck. It happened years ago, off the coast of the Free Marches headed towards Rivain. I was on board, just a toddler at the time, and as far as I know, I’m the only survivor. He’d probably mentioned before about his adoptive parents. Especially since his adoptive mother was the infamous Captain Victoria out of Rivain.
He paused, the gravity of his words settling between them. I need to know what really happened that night. And I have this map—it’s a start, it tracks the path the ship was planning to go, which should give us a general idea where the ship went down. I uh, if all goes to plan, was also wondering if magical air bubbles were a thing you could do? As you know, I’ve never really dabbled in any magic outside healing and shapeshifting.
Once his pint arrived the two moved deeper into the tavern to find a booth. Ruth slid into the corner, relaxing into the faded and slightly tattered upholstery. He’d take a sip of his pint as Horus settled, leaning onto the table to dip his ears to hear the man’s new venture. Brow lifted in surprise as he described himself as the sole survivor of the ordeal.
Cursed. It’s cursed, he called it on the first try.
So... Vicky isn’t your Ma?... You fucker, you said she’d skin me alive, Of course he went to where all this affected him, selfish bastard as he was Ruth still offered him a grimace of apology. Well that’s fucking shit, but… it’s weird that just you, a babe, was the only one. The cogs in his mind turned for a spell in the short silence, and he couldn’t help but agree with the need to know the truth. People’s agenda’s were so much easier to get ahead of if you knew their motivation, their dark little secrets they kept to themselves.
Yeah, alright then. Booze, possible treasure and some filthy dark mystery to uncover, count me in. he’d grin, leaning back into the booth with his pint. Before he’d take a sip though, Ruth lifted his arm, hand tilting back and forth in a so-so motion until he’d downed a good measure of the amber liquid. I can do a bit not sure how stable it’ll be. Might be I can do something else when we get there, I’ll need to see it for myself.
Horus slid into the booth opposite Ruth, a mischievous glint in his eye as he took in the worn tavern surroundings. He leaned back, taking a swig of his pint, the faint aroma of ale mixing with the scent of adventure in the air.
Aye, Vicky's not my Ma, he drawled, a roguish grin spreading across his face. But she's got a talent for makin' folks think otherwise, doesn't she? His eyes sparkled with amusement as he recalled the many tales he'd spun.
Survivin' that ordeal, just me as a babe, Horus continued, the humor fading from his expression. Seems a bit odd, if you ask me. Somethin' dark and twisty lurkin' in the shadows, mate. That's why we've got to uncover the truth.
Ruth's agreement brought a smirk to Horus's lips. Ah, booze, treasure, and a filthy dark mystery. Sounds like the perfect recipe for a grand adventure, eh? He watched as Ruth downed a generous swig of his pint, clearly pondering the possibilities.
Horus leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. We'll unravel this mystery together, savvy? Whatever it takes. And if things get a bit too dicey, he added with a wink, we can always reach out to Vicky. I’d just rather not concern her until I have more answers. Don’t want her to think I wasn’t grateful for all she’s done for me.
He raised his pint in a toast, eyes twinkling with the promise of danger and discovery. To us, mate. And to the secrets yet to be uncovered.
With that, he took a deep drink, savoring the camaraderie and the thrill of the unknown that lay ahead.
Ruth narrowed his eyes on Horus. She nearly gutted me cos of you, not that Ruth hadn’t been a good fifty percent partly to blame too, but they weren’t here to toss back and forth stories of the woman who’d raised the merc. There was a mystery to solve too, one that had many strings leading to Creator’s knew where. Ruth nodded, agreeing that it was strange a babe had survived the break up of the vessel and its wreckage alone. It was all too neatly wrapped up in a bow, like the man was some specially chosen one among all the other wasted souls.
You know me. I like a good time, he’d grin, raising his pint to join in the toast. If things get dicey. If. It’s us. Of course it’s going to get dicey in some shape or form. He wasn’t complaining either, smirking as he remembered a few of their other outings, but the elf shook his head. If we need her, then we’ve really fucked it up, so lets not until we’re kneedeep in it. She’ll never let us live it down, especially if its to do with your mysterious past.
Knocking back another good measure, Ruth sat down his pint, sinking back into the booth. There was a few weeks before the big wedding day, and the two had enough time to organise the details. Show us this map then, or we doing that later, after celebrating the beginning of this venture? The tavern was bustling enough, the minstrels were playing though the lad bleeting his heart out wasn’t tugging anyones heartstrings. It was a wonder no-one had socked him, maybe improve the lads tone a bit if they did, but Ruth wasn’t about to encourage a brawl. Meg would clip him around the ear for more violence.
Horus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. Aye, she did nearly gut you. But we both know you enjoyed the thrill, Ruthie. He leaned back, eyes glinting with amusement as he took another swig of his pint.
He watched Ruth carefully, noting the glint in his friend's eye that always appeared when a challenge presented itself. You're right, it’s us. It’s bound to get dicey. But that's half the fun, isn't it? The chaos and the thrill of it all.
Horus raised his glass in agreement, knocking it against Ruth's in a hearty toast. To us, then. And to not getting skinned alive by Vicky. He took a deep drink, savoring the taste and the sense of camaraderie that hung in the air.
He nodded thoughtfully at Ruth's words, the smirk fading into a more serious expression. You're right. If we need her, we’ve really fucked it up. So let's avoid that, shall we? Horus pulled out the map, smoothing it over the table with a practiced hand. The tattered edges and faded ink spoke of its age and the many hands it had passed through.
Here it is, he said, leaning in closer so Ruth could see. This is the path the ship was supposed to take. Somewhere along this route is where it went down. I’ve been trying to piece it together, but some of the markings are unclear. That’s where you come in.
Horus glanced up at Ruth's comment about his eye, a genuine look of concern crossing his face. I noticed, but I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. What happened? Looks like you got into more trouble than usual mate. Having fun without me?
I’m a fan of self destruction, not someone else choppin’ bits of me off. Particularly bits some people really enjoy about me. Like his tongue. Creators, what would he be without his witty mouth? He shrugged, Horus knew he was a reckless fool when properly fuelled, what could he say to the truth. Lifting his pint to toast with his friend, Ruth chuckled along. To us, and not being possibly gelded this time.
Lifting himself up, Ruth huddled over the map alongside Horus. He followed the planned course of the ship, noting how it avoided certain quicker passages for a longer route. Why didn’t they take this passage here, it would have knocked off two.. maybe three days of their journey? It made sense if the weather was especially bad, but it was still manageable with a capable crew. Had someone altered the heading?
Ruth looked over, brows rose in an exaggerated shrug before casting his eye over again, hands turning the map to an angle to orientate himself better. He’d snort a little, Nothin’ fun about it. I was actually behaving for a change. Some fuckwad of a Warden. I swear those fuckers are just pure trouble.
Horus squinted at the map, his brow furrowing as Ruth pointed out the passage that would have shortened the journey. He hadn’t noticed that before, and it was troubling.
Good catch, mate, Horus muttered, tracing the route with his finger. Why indeed? Maybe they were tryin’ to avoid somethin’. Pirates? A storm? Or maybe… He trailed off, the possibilities swirling in his mind. Maybe someone didn’t want them to reach their destination at all. Sabotage? That’s a whole new layer to this mess.
As Ruth mentioned the Warden, Horus’s expression darkened. Wardens, huh? Yeah, those bastards are a breed all their own. The stuff they get up to... not exactly the sort you’d call heroes, if you ask me. He shook his head, leaning back in the booth.
What’d they want with you? Or did they just decide to make trouble for no reason? I’ve seen them pick fights just to amuse themselves. Think they’re untouchable, most of ‘em. Horus took another swig of his drink, his mind half on the mystery of the shipwreck and half on Ruth’s recent troubles.
He knew enough about Grey Wardens to understand that they were far from the noble warriors most people thought them to be. Ruth’s encounter with them didn’t surprise him, but it did concern him.
You alright though? I mean, aside from the eye. Those Wardens can be real bastards if you cross ‘em the wrong way. Horus’s tone was serious, the playful banter set aside as he focused on his friend. He’d been through enough scrapes himself to know that some wounds ran deeper than they appeared.
Ruth’s lips curled into a wry smile as he leaned back, eyes momentarily drifting away from Horus's concerned gaze. Yeah, those Wardens… He sighed, the weight of recent events pressing on him. It’s a funny story, actually. I was trying to get access to this old library, see if I could dig up anything useful. The place was locked up tight, but you know me, I’ve got a knack for finding ways into places.
He paused, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of his mug. So, there I was, just minding my own business when a Warden falls out of the sky. She’d been on a ladder. Caught her. Another one shows up - big, grizzled, and not exactly in the mood for chit-chat. Me, being clever, stammered about ‘helping hands’. I figured it’d earn me a favor or two. Ruth let out a bitter chuckle. Turns out, this guy didn’t appreciate me stepping in. Said I was meddling, trying to show him up. Next thing I know, I’m on the receiving end of some choice words and next I know there’s steel and blood and I’ve lost an eye.
He waved off the memory with a dismissive hand. It’s nothing. I’m fine, really. Just tired.Gods was he tired. Lately, it feels like I’ve been a magnet for every black cloud in the sky. Seems like trouble’s got my scent, and it’s been following me everywhere I go, like a fuckin’ curse, but I don’t know which witch has cast it, if any.
Ruth's gaze met Horus's, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a usual forced grin. But don’t worry about it. I’m more worried about that storm cloud sticking with us on this trip. Last thing we need is another mess to clean up. The wedding still loomed and there was enough still to do that could go very wrong.
He lifted his mug, a silent toast to better days. Let’s not let the Wardens or anything else ruin our night, yeah? We’ve got enough on our plates without inviting more trouble. Here’s to smoother sailing ahead. Ruth’s grin turned genuine as he tried to steer the conversation back to lighter topics, eager to leave the shadows of his recent troubles behind, if only for a little while.
Horus listened closely to Ruth's tale, his grin fading as the story unfolded. The mention of the Grey Wardens and the way things had escalated clearly didn’t sit well with him. He knew Ruth was no stranger to trouble, but losing an eye? That was something else entirely.
Damn, mate, Horus muttered, leaning back with a grim look on his face. Wardens really are a bloody nightmare. Sorry you had to go through that. And all over a library? Who knew books could be so dangerous. He tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but the concern in his eyes remained.
He could see the weariness in Ruth’s gaze, the way he tried to brush it off like it was nothing. Horus knew better. He’d been around long enough to recognize when someone was carrying a heavier burden than they let on. But he also knew when to give a friend space, so he didn’t press the issue further.
Instead, he raised his mug in response to Ruth’s toast, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a more genuine smile. Aye, to smoother sailing ahead. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll actually get through this adventure without any more bad luck following us around.
Horus took a long drink, savoring the familiar burn of the rum as it slid down his throat. But you’re right, we’ve got enough to deal with without dwelling on the past. So let’s focus on the here and now—solving this mystery, finding that wreck, and maybe uncovering a bit of treasure along the way. Who knows? Maybe this will be the break we’ve both been waiting for.
He flashed a grin at Ruth, the spark of excitement returning to his eyes. And hey, if those Wardens decide to stick their noses in our business again, well… we’ll just have to show ‘em why they should’ve stayed out of it. Between the two of us, I reckon we can handle just about anything they throw our way.
Horus leaned back, feeling the familiar rush of anticipation that always came before a big adventure. The map before them, the promise of danger and discovery—it was all he needed to shake off the gloom that had settled over their conversation. And he knew Ruth felt the same. They were in this together, as always, ready to face whatever the world threw at them.
Now then, he said, his tone brightening as he clapped Ruth on the shoulder. Let’s finish these drinks, get this plan sorted, and see where the night takes us. With any luck, we’ll have some answers before the sun comes up. And if not… well, at least we’ll have a damn good time trying.
Ruth chuckled, his brows lifting in a resigned shrug. Yes, the books, he repeated with a smirk, the sarcasm evident in his tone. Not because I apparently manhandled someone else’s girl, by accident, of course. His grin broadened, but there was a hint of frustration in his voice. It seemed to be the story of my life - wrong place, wrong time. The little bit of behaving he did do? Well, it rewarded him by getting royally fucked somehow.
He took a long drink, then leaned back with a half-laugh. A break, though? From the naggin’ of the maiden folk? For fucking definite. His expression darkened playfully as he rolled his eyes. How many lectures from Megara had he endured this week alone? It was like they took turns - Meg, Dora, Nairn… all of them have got something to natter at him about. He shook his head, his chuckle turning into a snicker as Horus joined in with a knowing laugh. They don’t give a man a moment’s peace. Nairn’s fucked.
With that, the two downed their first drinks, settling into the evening with the ease of old friends. The familiar warmth of alcohol began to soften the edges of the day’s troubles, their conversation drifting from casual gossip to more lighthearted teasing. Time passed quickly, and with every new round, the banter grew livelier. Ruth, ever the restless one, occasionally disappeared for short moments of peace, slipping away under the guise of needing a piss. In reality, he craved that brief hit - a snorted line of dust to sharpen his senses, even as the constant flow of drinks dulled his wits and blurred his better judgment. As much as that judgement was often questioned.
When he returned, the place had transformed. The bards had begun to tinker with their instruments, filling the tavern with lively music that quickly caught the lads’ attention. The night shifted into full swing. Ruth felt the pull of it, the infectious energy calling him to let loose. As more drink was imbued, laughter and music swelled, echoing off the wooden beams. Songs started flowing from the crowd, some half-mumbled, others belted out in full, and wordplay was tossed around like coins at the tavern. It didn’t take long for Ruth, ever the performer, to find himself in the centre of it all.
Someone had passed him a lute, confiscated from one of the bards who’d been playing earlier and Ruth, drunk but enthusiastic, took it up with gleeful abandon. He half-read, half-improvised a tale to the crowd, strumming a few notes on the lute with shaky but confident hands. It wasn’t an uplifting tale - the tale of a pair of twins, Jenny and a Boy named Screech - but the way Ruth spun it, with that inebriated wobble and dramatic flair, was oddly endearing.
The audience was charmed by his performance, and a few of the more sober patrons even sung along, quietly murmuring the verses as he weaved through the story. His voice slurred here and there, but that only added to the charm of the moment. With every note, Ruth captured the crowd, somehow turning a melancholy tune into a raucous, entertaining spectacle.
As he finished, there was a round of applause - some genuine, some fueled by drunken amusement - and Ruth bowed dramatically, wobbling a little but grinning ear to ear. He handed the lute back with a mock-serious flourish, raising his mug to the crowd, who cheered him on for the show.
Horus watched the whole scene, arms crossed and a broad grin plastered on his face as Ruth swayed through the song with all the finesse of a drunken sailor. It was a familiar sight, and Horus knew exactly how this went.
He leaned over the table, still chuckling, and raised his half-empty mug in Ruth's direction as he finished. That, my friend, was nothing short of bloody genius. He chuckled, glancing at the smattering of onlookers still enthralled by the spectacle. If the lootin’ business ever dries up, you've got yourself a career right there, Ruthie. Might even find yourself a *decent* lady or two. The sober type, y’know? He winked, watching as Ruth handed the lute back with all the exaggerated grace of a seasoned performer.
Horus lifted his drink in another salute, his voice lilting as he continued, Here’s to Jenny, Screech, and every unlucky soul between! Savvy?
With that, he downed the last of his pint, savoring the buzz of rum, laughter, and mystery thick in the air. He knew, of course, that Ruth’s appetite for trouble would outlive any warning, and that was fine by him. Trouble kept things interesting—and tonight, well, they were just getting started.
