doom29169
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 10, 2010
Alexandria DiRosilia strode the streets of Avalon's capital, Camelot. Camelot was a modern metropolis, complete with gas lights and hanson cabs. Underneath this facade, though, is a land ruled by superstition about a people called the Fey. The Fey are a powerful group, not quiet human, who once ruled these islands, but have for the most part, passed out of this reality. Despite this they left their mark in the form of magic and superstition. People put pennys in their shoes to ward off the fey, the only speak of "the Goodly Folk," they throw salt over their shoulder, and the like.
Alexandria is well aware of this heart beating below the surface, for she has fey blood in her own veins. She passes rain barrels and the occasional Jenny plying her trade. She is heading for a particular Inn, one she has been told she can find a particular man named Matthew Valroix du Martese. Matthew is perhaps the greatest swordsman alive, at least one of the four best, but he has been slumming it for the last year since being dispossessed from Montaigne due to its ongoing revolution.
She pushes open the door and finds an empty bar save for a scraggly looking fellow playing his Castillian guitar, and slurring the words to a song."I dunno...HAHAHAHA...I dunno. I dunnowhere I'ma gonnago when the Volcano blows. HAHAHA" He reaches for a mostly empty bottle and drains it. Then he shouts "I thought I told you to keep em coming you fat fuck!" He throws the empty bottle at the bar tender, who ducks it and says "Yes sir, Mr. Valroix."
The bar tender goes for a fresh bottle shaking his head. Looking again Alexandria realizes that this could be the man in the picture she was given, though he didn't seem to have shaved, much less bathed in a month. Moving closer she sees a half dozen empty bottles at his feet. He begins strumming his guitar again, his weary bloodshot eyes are unfocused as he seems to be thinking about something far away. The new bottle is placed in front of him and the bar tender mumbles about how at least he is drinking since he has run all the other customers off.
Alexandria is well aware of this heart beating below the surface, for she has fey blood in her own veins. She passes rain barrels and the occasional Jenny plying her trade. She is heading for a particular Inn, one she has been told she can find a particular man named Matthew Valroix du Martese. Matthew is perhaps the greatest swordsman alive, at least one of the four best, but he has been slumming it for the last year since being dispossessed from Montaigne due to its ongoing revolution.
She pushes open the door and finds an empty bar save for a scraggly looking fellow playing his Castillian guitar, and slurring the words to a song."I dunno...HAHAHAHA...I dunno. I dunnowhere I'ma gonnago when the Volcano blows. HAHAHA" He reaches for a mostly empty bottle and drains it. Then he shouts "I thought I told you to keep em coming you fat fuck!" He throws the empty bottle at the bar tender, who ducks it and says "Yes sir, Mr. Valroix."
The bar tender goes for a fresh bottle shaking his head. Looking again Alexandria realizes that this could be the man in the picture she was given, though he didn't seem to have shaved, much less bathed in a month. Moving closer she sees a half dozen empty bottles at his feet. He begins strumming his guitar again, his weary bloodshot eyes are unfocused as he seems to be thinking about something far away. The new bottle is placed in front of him and the bar tender mumbles about how at least he is drinking since he has run all the other customers off.