Spoons
Warning, contains violence!
Fire crackled in the fireplace. Soft murmur of people gathered in the cozy nook off an inn -if you even would call it an inn-filled the room. It was more like a safe haven offering some respite for weary travelers of the underworld, a place where there was no fear of the law finally catching up on you. There were other dangers which were not as obvious, though, and if you weren't cautious you could easily end up in much worse scenario than with the law…
His trusty knife sank in the wood as he was whittling something. One never knew what the wood would want to be; sometimes he would start with an idea of a ladle but end up with a butter knife or a spatula. The halfling man was quite confident that this time the wood he had been working with wanted to be a spoon. Or couple of spoons. Maybe a trove of spoons, who knew. Bigger and smaller spoons, for both thick porridge and delightfully light custard cream dessert, garnished with fresh fruits of the season. Sometimes he longed after certain things, things that he had never paid much attention to when he had been younger, like the custard pudding with seasonal fruits endemic to the country of Chau Cailon. Those things that had been at his grasps then, which were unattainable now. That was the funny thing about traveling, he had learned.
He didn't miss the scenery nor the people that much. He didn't miss the hassle of the city, the harassment of merchants in the floating market when they tried to get you to buy something, anything. He didn't miss the complicated city politics or corrupt lawmakers, the lawbringers or wardens with whom he had become familiar during his pirating career. He didn't even long for the familiar stench of filth on the narrow streets of Nam Choyang, an overpowering scent he had learned to associate with safety and the pungent odour he had missed while he had been away at the sea. But he didn't miss it anymore. Nowadays it was already difficult to replicate the memory of the smell. Slowly it had become the process or morphing into something new; the musty smell of the sewers with a lingering hint of burning torch, stale ale and sweat. It was not the worst combination there was and slowly Lawrick had become to even like it, to associate it with a feeling of 'home'. His native 'home' was on the other side of the world and he rarely paid any thought on the place he was originally from. He had been away for much longer than he had been there, so it only felt like just another distant port he had visited. Even Nam Choyang and Lou Chuy felt more familiar than that distant place his ancestors came from, on the other side of the known world.
A smallish group of three entered the premises; two humans and a half-elf, of forest-dwelling origin. None of them Lawrick knew by the name, two of them only by the face. New, fresh ones. Small fish. And it almost sounded like a beginning of a joke, but he let it slip.
”Hey, lads.”
He began, not raising his eyes from his spoon-to-be.
”Could you bring me a mug of mead?”
The halfling man asked, nicely enough. He could feel their looks on his skin and hear them huffing and stomping off. It took only a moment when they were back, judging by the sound of footsteps.
Splash!
Lawrick felt something wet and sweet-smelling covering his face, trickling under his collar and soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Slowly he raised his eyes up to the other human who had walked in just a while earlier, the very one who had quite literally brought him his drink, ending up pouring it all over him. And clearly on purpose, judging by the arrogant grin on his face. Lawrick took a closer look at the fellow; stubby nose, cauliflower ears -a thug or a common troublemaker then- , brown squinty eyes and auburn hair. Short for his age, which the halfling estimated to be around 20.
”There's your drink. Go get it yourself the next time, shorty.”
The young man laughed and didn't read the room at all. The atmosphere had immediately turned tense, almost silent. Every patron of this safe haven was holding their breath.
Lawrick set aside his knife. Its wooden handle was worn-out, it had dents and scratches, but it had served him well on the ship and would continue to do so. He sighed quietly and inspected the wooden piece he had been carving. It was now ruined when it had been doused with mead. Useless. The shape of the spoon had already started to come out from the depths of the wood, but it would have needed hours of meticulous crafting to make it beautiful.
”You're new, I give you that.”
He said and hold the rustic looking unfinished work in his hand. Couple of regulars had stood up, eyeing him, asking his permission to handle the puny ruffians on his behalf. Lawrick instead shook his head to them quietly, and the men sat back, keeping an eye on the situation.
Before the youngster had any time to answer, the halfling attacked. He was much faster than he looked and his small size had taken many bigger enemies by surprise. Several times he had been underestimated because he didn't wear any armor, just his ordinary clothes. But unlike commoners with no experience in fighting, he wore his normal attire for a good reason: armor would have just hindered his mobility.
Hit on the side of the man's head with the palm made the young man stagger, dazed. The next few kicks on the stomach and sides made him crouch over and the final hit on the back of his head with the wooden spoon-to-be got him on the ground, clearly out of it. It had been a short but brutal fight. A concussion and a broken rib, Lawrick pondered to himself, when he bent down to slip the spoon into the pocket of the young man's trousers. He had gone easy on the boy and counted on the fact that this kind of humiliation would hurt more than the hits. It was counterproductive to beat your own minions to a pulp.
”I have no need for it anymore, you can have it.”
He said, almost softly, but in his eyes was a dangerous glow.
”I apologise it's unfinished...”
Lawrick said to the unconscious man and raised his dark amber eyes to the friends of the lad. They had drawn back a bit, unable -or cleverly hesitant- to join the brief fight.
”And you, fellows; I hope that now on you'll take care of your friend and make sure he's not going to get into trouble again for his foolishness, or it might really cost him his life. Got it?”
”Y-yes sir!”
Both of them answered in unison and Lawrick grinned, sitting back down again.
”Good. Take him somewhere to recover. After a while he'll be alright.”
”Sir...”
Began the half-elf sheepisly and Lawrick gave him a glance. The atmosphere of the room was returning to normal again, discussions picking up and people ordering more ale.
”Mm?”
”I hope there will be no ill blood between us, we...”
”Don't worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes. But next time it's ought to be smart to ponder why you weren't charged for my drink… My drinks are on the house, and for a reason.”
”Thank you, sir, yes, sir!”
The half-elf bowed deeply and hurried to carry his unconscious friend out of the establishment with his other comrade.
”What a joke...”
Lawrick pondered and with a small movement of his wrist cleaned his clothes and himself with a prestidigitation spell. Of course, one could ask why didn't he do it in the first place, but sometimes there is a lesson to teach to the younger ones… and he'd never lie that he wouldn't have enjoyed it. He had once been a youngster like that too, just as arrogant but perhaps a little bit more perceptive. Just that tiny bit smarter to not try to pick up a fight with someone who looked so obviously easy a target.
His trusty knife sank in the wood as he was whittling something. One never knew what the wood would want to be; sometimes he would start with an idea of a ladle but end up with a butter knife or a spatula. The halfling man was quite confident that this time the wood he had been working with wanted to be a spoon. Or couple of spoons. Maybe a trove of spoons, who knew. Bigger and smaller spoons, for both thick porridge and delightfully light custard cream dessert, garnished with fresh fruits of the season. Sometimes he longed after certain things, things that he had never paid much attention to when he had been younger, like the custard pudding with seasonal fruits endemic to the country of Chau Cailon. Those things that had been at his grasps then, which were unattainable now. That was the funny thing about traveling, he had learned.
He didn't miss the scenery nor the people that much. He didn't miss the hassle of the city, the harassment of merchants in the floating market when they tried to get you to buy something, anything. He didn't miss the complicated city politics or corrupt lawmakers, the lawbringers or wardens with whom he had become familiar during his pirating career. He didn't even long for the familiar stench of filth on the narrow streets of Nam Choyang, an overpowering scent he had learned to associate with safety and the pungent odour he had missed while he had been away at the sea. But he didn't miss it anymore. Nowadays it was already difficult to replicate the memory of the smell. Slowly it had become the process or morphing into something new; the musty smell of the sewers with a lingering hint of burning torch, stale ale and sweat. It was not the worst combination there was and slowly Lawrick had become to even like it, to associate it with a feeling of 'home'. His native 'home' was on the other side of the world and he rarely paid any thought on the place he was originally from. He had been away for much longer than he had been there, so it only felt like just another distant port he had visited. Even Nam Choyang and Lou Chuy felt more familiar than that distant place his ancestors came from, on the other side of the known world.
A smallish group of three entered the premises; two humans and a half-elf, of forest-dwelling origin. None of them Lawrick knew by the name, two of them only by the face. New, fresh ones. Small fish. And it almost sounded like a beginning of a joke, but he let it slip.
”Hey, lads.”
He began, not raising his eyes from his spoon-to-be.
”Could you bring me a mug of mead?”
The halfling man asked, nicely enough. He could feel their looks on his skin and hear them huffing and stomping off. It took only a moment when they were back, judging by the sound of footsteps.
Splash!
Lawrick felt something wet and sweet-smelling covering his face, trickling under his collar and soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Slowly he raised his eyes up to the other human who had walked in just a while earlier, the very one who had quite literally brought him his drink, ending up pouring it all over him. And clearly on purpose, judging by the arrogant grin on his face. Lawrick took a closer look at the fellow; stubby nose, cauliflower ears -a thug or a common troublemaker then- , brown squinty eyes and auburn hair. Short for his age, which the halfling estimated to be around 20.
”There's your drink. Go get it yourself the next time, shorty.”
The young man laughed and didn't read the room at all. The atmosphere had immediately turned tense, almost silent. Every patron of this safe haven was holding their breath.
Lawrick set aside his knife. Its wooden handle was worn-out, it had dents and scratches, but it had served him well on the ship and would continue to do so. He sighed quietly and inspected the wooden piece he had been carving. It was now ruined when it had been doused with mead. Useless. The shape of the spoon had already started to come out from the depths of the wood, but it would have needed hours of meticulous crafting to make it beautiful.
”You're new, I give you that.”
He said and hold the rustic looking unfinished work in his hand. Couple of regulars had stood up, eyeing him, asking his permission to handle the puny ruffians on his behalf. Lawrick instead shook his head to them quietly, and the men sat back, keeping an eye on the situation.
Before the youngster had any time to answer, the halfling attacked. He was much faster than he looked and his small size had taken many bigger enemies by surprise. Several times he had been underestimated because he didn't wear any armor, just his ordinary clothes. But unlike commoners with no experience in fighting, he wore his normal attire for a good reason: armor would have just hindered his mobility.
Hit on the side of the man's head with the palm made the young man stagger, dazed. The next few kicks on the stomach and sides made him crouch over and the final hit on the back of his head with the wooden spoon-to-be got him on the ground, clearly out of it. It had been a short but brutal fight. A concussion and a broken rib, Lawrick pondered to himself, when he bent down to slip the spoon into the pocket of the young man's trousers. He had gone easy on the boy and counted on the fact that this kind of humiliation would hurt more than the hits. It was counterproductive to beat your own minions to a pulp.
”I have no need for it anymore, you can have it.”
He said, almost softly, but in his eyes was a dangerous glow.
”I apologise it's unfinished...”
Lawrick said to the unconscious man and raised his dark amber eyes to the friends of the lad. They had drawn back a bit, unable -or cleverly hesitant- to join the brief fight.
”And you, fellows; I hope that now on you'll take care of your friend and make sure he's not going to get into trouble again for his foolishness, or it might really cost him his life. Got it?”
”Y-yes sir!”
Both of them answered in unison and Lawrick grinned, sitting back down again.
”Good. Take him somewhere to recover. After a while he'll be alright.”
”Sir...”
Began the half-elf sheepisly and Lawrick gave him a glance. The atmosphere of the room was returning to normal again, discussions picking up and people ordering more ale.
”Mm?”
”I hope there will be no ill blood between us, we...”
”Don't worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes. But next time it's ought to be smart to ponder why you weren't charged for my drink… My drinks are on the house, and for a reason.”
”Thank you, sir, yes, sir!”
The half-elf bowed deeply and hurried to carry his unconscious friend out of the establishment with his other comrade.
”What a joke...”
Lawrick pondered and with a small movement of his wrist cleaned his clothes and himself with a prestidigitation spell. Of course, one could ask why didn't he do it in the first place, but sometimes there is a lesson to teach to the younger ones… and he'd never lie that he wouldn't have enjoyed it. He had once been a youngster like that too, just as arrogant but perhaps a little bit more perceptive. Just that tiny bit smarter to not try to pick up a fight with someone who looked so obviously easy a target.
Another small snippet on my newest character, Lawrick, of whom I don't know too much about yet. He's a right-hand man of a thieves' guild leader on Silver Shore Island, usually quite calm fellow but he's not to be taken lightly even if he's smol and 'cute'. Lawrick isn't his real name either, but an alias he took when he left his home as a teenager (I'm still working on the real name here!). After sailing with pirates for a bit, he got into trouble and was sentenced to death, yet his (halfling) luck saved him and he got another chance to live. Lawrick swore to hunt down the one who betrayed him and his old crew, following the traces until he found himself on a strange, distant island of Silver Shore. He's going to kick your butt, as he is a rogue/monk multiclass, possibly a warlock to be, or some other crazy yet somewhat like me combo my DM and other players have learned to expect... but we'll see where his story eventually takes him!
Comments