HoRP Avatar Chapter 1: Land of Confusion

[Lord Nichael™, The Occasionally Present]

The door opened unexpectedly, the entrance framed by the figure of Khael's old friend. Khael jumped and reached hurriedly for one of his blades before his brain could catch up with who was talking to him.

"...Demetrius." Khael relaxed a bit, put the weapon away and gave a casual wave. "We were just talking about you! Fancy that... sorry 'bout the violent welcome there, I've been on survival mode for a while now."

"Long enough to forget the high life, it seems!" Demetrius gave a hearty laugh, turning to the other intruder in the room. "And who's your friend?"

Nichael cast a sideways glance to Mac, worrying if he'd start anything.

"This would be Big Mac, my accomplice in raising funds for our general survival."

[:Inbred Chocobo]

The first bolt Wiz fired caused the lumbering beast to faulter. The second one struck home, causing the beast to divert its path, slamming into a tree. Then the roar of another one came crying out. It didn't sound like one for intimidation, but for pain. Seconds later, IC came into Wiz's view. Apparently if Wiz had any thoughts that IC had any trouble, there was no evidence on IC to prove those thoughts right.

"We need to get back to town. Now." IC said sternly, before booking it back to town.

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Shoebox managed to get his pack on in time for a roting werewolf came stalking closer into view. The beast might not have been detected if it wasn't for the disgusting smell that wafted in. The beast was slowly circling the building Shoebox and Loki were in, looking like it was biding its time.

[:Demetrius]

Feeling better about the night to come, Demetrius nodded to Big Mac, "I'm glad to meet any friend of Khael's. You both look like you're soaked through, come on up to the penthouse and we'll get you cleaned up and some warm food in you."

Demetrius waited a moment, "Unless you've lost your appetite for a good steak and brew Khael? I've also kept your half of the place in order, your clean clothes should be in there and I'm sure we have something Mr. Mac can change into while his clothes get cleaned."

[:Big Mac]

Big Mac was in a semi state of drunkeness. The rum was quite good and Big Mac pounded it back. Someone stepped into the room but Big Mac didn't pay attention. He knew who was in the room and he wanted to do something to him but he knew it would end badly. His thoughts soon turned to his homeland. His mom and dad, his friends. He missed the luscious green meadows and ancient woods that populated his island.

"Unless you've lost your appetite for a good steak and brew Khael? I've also kept your half of the place in order, your clean clothes should be in there and I'm sure we have something Mr. Mac can change into while his clothes get cleaned."

Big Mac was shocked. He had assumed Demetrius would throw them out. “I thank ye for the offer. I am a little damp.”

“Not a problem, bring along the rum if you like,” responded Demetrius.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mac could see Khael tense up, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mac gave a slight nod as if to say to relax. “This li'l lass will not be leavin me side,” Big Mac replied, indicating the scantily clad woman on the bottle.

“A man after my own heart. Thank Khael though, its his private stock,” said Demetrius, turning his back to the group.

Big Mac let out a chuckle. “Not anymore."

“Hah! Very good”

Big Mac saw that Khael had eased up a bit. Even he found himself warming to Demetrius. “Mind ye. I prefer whiskey. Nothing beats a good ol bottle of Eyre Whisky”

"Hah!" Demetrius looked to Khael with a smile, "You've picked yourself up quite the scrounger."

A look of fear spread across Khael's face for but a moment. “Scrounger? I'm afraid not familiar with that term,” said Big Mac, his eyes narrowing.

“Its a compliment my friend, it means that you seem quite capable of handling yourself in the streets,” said Demetrius defensively, sensing Big Mac getting offended.

“A compliment. Well back in the old tongue. a Scrounge is a dirty term meaning someone who spends time in the streets.”

“Eyre, eh? Seems as though you've made quite the trip. Heh, and to end up behind the End Bar! Khael you innocent fool, how could you leave this for something like that?”

"Hey Demetrius, lemme play a song for ye. as a token of gratitude,” said Big Mac, grabbing his Fender and began the opening tune to Castle Chorus.

“Big Mac. Stop,” said Khael quickly before Big Mac could finish the song.

[Lord Nichael™, The Occasionally Present]

"...I think we've destroyed enough buildings for tonight." Khael gently prodded Mac in the direction of the penthouse. "C'mon, I may be addicted to the more "adventurous" life, but I'm not about to turn down a perfectly good meal."

Khael was beginning to wonder why he'd ever left. Surely there had been a reason? He had everything up here. Power, comfort...

Never forget the people.

It happened in Eyre, they stopped listening. It happened in Angeland and other nations too. People like Nichael couldn't walk down on the streets... that must've been why he'd found himself at ground level again. To listen...

But up here was where he could make the difference. Why did he leave?

" - Nichael. Your coat?" Demetrius was holding his hand out waiting. "You're looking a little distracted there, you been hitting the bottle too?"

"Oh, right. Er, no, just got a lot to think about..." He handed the soggy coat over.

Mac was singing something, surprisingly still in perfect key despite the now emptier bottle in his hand.

"...You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best. I've been gone for a week, I've been drunk since I left..."

After changing into some drier clothes, (good god, I wore a suit? Khael decided against the tie.) the two had a dinner finer than they had in weeks. They kept silent, busy eating for the most part, except for Mac, who was now garbed in some of Demetrius' old clothes and was still quite happily singing.

"...And the only, only thing that I did that was wrong
Was to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew..."

Well, at least he's getting along better with Demetrius that I even could've hoped...

Khael felt something on the inside of his grey suit's jacket. He'd taken the old sherriff's badge off his old coat and kept in with him.

I could help the people again. More than I do now.

This post has been edited by Lord Nichael on Mar 17 2008, 12:54 PM