User blog:Lordkenyon/The Silver Talon Part 4: The Bruised Foreigner

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 “So where were you in this story?” The Breton mage asked. If Uvaryl remembered correctly, his name was Breldon. Uvaryl wondered why the Outlander’s couldn’t give themselves normal names. Names like Ferylis or Telvas or Nidanye. But if they had normal names would they still be Outlanders? Pondering this question led Uvaryl to miss Calen’s response, though giving Breldon and the innkeeper’s reaction it was not satisfactory. Uvaryl was not unhappy to see him under duress. The pudgy drunk had hit hard, more so than Uvaryl would have thought. His head was drifting in pulsing pain, and his jaw ached. The bastard’s following hits had been feeble, but his first two carried the might of a trained fighter behind them.



 Uvaryl sipped at a spoonful of soup. It was a good soup. This time around soup had chopped versions of the orange icicles, and shreds of pork. A pork was a creature that had flat nose and was infamous for being filthy. It also made snuffling snorting sounds, and when it was more emotional it would make loud squeals. Uvaryl was not sure why the Outlanders called it a pork. He had seen their like in his travels, and knew that these “porks” were really called boars. The Outlander’s deception was clear, but its purpose was not. Uvaryl had been with a nord hunting party during his encounter with boars. Perhaps the Outlanders were calling the boars “porks” in order to prevent the nords from coming to hunt them. Though it seemed simple, Uvaryl had to concede that the ploy was successful: he had not yet seen nord hunters in High Rock.



 “I said it was a very long story, and I meant it.”



 “And I said we have time.” The Breldon-Outlander seemed insistent on hearing the tale out. Uvaryl found himself somewhat interested in it as well.



The tale began again. Uvaryl continued slowly sipping at his soup. Time passed. Uvaryl finished his soup, yet Calen was still talking. Uvaryl wondered if the man would get tired. An hour later, Uvaryl concluded that no, Calen would not get tired. The room began to darken as the sun set. At last Calen’s story was finished. Breldon had an expression of unconcealed eagerness, the innkeeper was staring at his regular patron with bewilderment, and Uvaryl understood why.