Butch leans back on his seat and grabs one of the centred tankards and drinks a large gulp of the bitter ale. Placing the tankard back on to the table in front of him he leans forward with the other two to his right, comprised of a muscular man with dark skin and bulging muscles under his grey tunic and thin leather armour. His eyes were dark blue, he had short brown hair flowing down behind his ears and stern and chiselled good looks in comparison to the others. To the further right was a tall and skinny man with a pale complexion as if sickly, ginger short hair, greenish eyes and a dumb look on his face. All three of these men wait patiently for Butch's answer. "Drink's first, but thanks George that's very nice of you to ask." He states with a sincere smile on his face as the others nod in respect.
George lifts his tankard and thrusts it to the centre of the table, pausing for a moment the others do the same, the clanking sound of metal clashing together can be heard as they all take individual swigs of ale. Each letting out a sighed breath, Butch turns his gaze to the left, directly at George and begins to speak in a soft but poignant tone. "So, tell me about this easy score you keep harping on about?" Butch eases himself onto the seat and tilts his body to the left comfortably.
George smiles in a malevolent manner as he reaches for a large pouch on the left side of his belt, unties it and places it in the centre of the table. The sound of clanging metals can be heard as the large pouch opens revealing the magnificent sight of gold coins overflowing. With the others widening their gazes in surprise, of the sheer amount of gold before them, George begins to speak still with his stretching smile. "It was easy money..." The conversation in the background trails of into the distance as Orpheus faintly listens to a boorish topic.
Gregory's disdain for the men that have arrived is clearly seen upon his face, turning his gaze to Orpheus he pours him another drink as he speaks in a soft voice. "I have to endure these damn rogues because they make up most of my customers." Frustration emanates from Gregory's voice as he pulls back the pitcher and continues eyeing the men.
Looking down at the circling ale in his tankard, Orpheus reaches for his belt bag and withdraws several copper coins and places them on the bar. "I'm not comfortable having free drinks, sorry." He states in a sincere and remorseful tone as he gazes at the dumbfounded bartender with confusion written all over his face.
Placing the pitcher on the bar Gregory looks down at the five copper coins on the bar and sighs with his gaze lowered down and the back to Orpheus. "Those drinks are on me my friend, you don't need..." Suddenly Orpheus cuts into his statement with a swift wave of his right hand as to gesture a stop sign.
Pausing for a moment as if to get his bearings he gives a stern look to Gregory and speaks. "I insist." With a sincere smirk on the left side of his face, he pushes the coin forward with a rattling sound of metal. Gregory raises his right hand in refusal but stops halfway before giving in. He grabs the array of coins and places them in a small container below the bar. Orpheus gives a slight nod and jerks his drink forward to salute his new friend, bringing the tankard to his lips he slowly sips the ale, as a refreshing feeling flows down his throat.
Drinking the alcoholic beverage in a slow but somewhat hurrying manner his ears perk up from the voice behind him. "Yeah, that dumb bitch was loaded with money, probably from her dumb ass husband..." Orpheus listens intently to the man's every word as disdain fills his black heart, once quelled now writhing. George continues to speak with a smug smile as the others carry on with a chuckling tone. "Yeah she wouldn't give the money easily... so I had to give her something to remember me by..." Pausing for a moment the other rogues on the table begin to listen curiously and with anticipation. "Carved up that bitches face..."
With those striking words Orpheus's eyes suddenly widen with incredible speed, his cold stare flows forth as malice overwhelm his mind and thoughts, slowly he pulls down his drink and carefully places it on the table. His body rigid and straight as wrath boil within his beating chest, his expression through cold betray his hostile intent as he slowly turns gaze backwards.
Laughing manically with the others, George continues his recollection of his violent criminal act. "Guess she's not pretty anymore, am I, right boys!" His voice is now louder than previously as if the curious ears of others were of little importance to the man. Gregory's face filled with even greater disdain quietly reorganises the empty tankards behind the bar, his gaze suddenly moving to the turned around Orpheus. With his eyes cast upon his new friend he sees him rising from his seat, now filled with a protective desire he reaches his left arm to Orpheus's shoulder as if to pull him back to his seat.
Orpheus's face turns to the man restraining his right shoulder, Gregory slowly moves his head from left to right as if to beg Orpheus not to move forward into trouble. Returning his gaze Orpheus gives of a sincere and caring smile to his reciprocating friend, rising to his feet and placing his left hand upon Gregory's hand that's grasping his shoulder. He flashes a saddened and remorseful look as if apologetic even though no offence has been perpetrated, affixing his gaze he whispers two words. "I'm sorry." With a mild smile opposing the emotion he portrays he utters two more words under his breath. Imperium Sopor.
A constructing and overwhelming sensation began to bind Gregory's body as if a sudden wave of irresistible fatigue permeated through him. His eyes begin to weaken and blur as his body grows ever heavier, desperately resisting this strong force pressing against him, his gaze turns to Orpheus and grips his shoulder with little force. With his knee's weakening, he collapses and slumps to the ground in a gradual motion as if falling asleep after a hard day's work. With a quiet thudding sound, the others turned their gaze to the bar, seeing only Orpheus with an absence of the bartender they all flashed confused expressions.
With their gazes affixed to Orpheus, Butch began to ask a simple question. "Where is the barkeep?" Butch asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice, Orpheus turned to the tankard in his right hand and gulped the contents quickly, then placed it back on the bar and rose to his feet. With a piercing and hostile gaze, he stepped forward akin to a predator sizing up its prey before him.
Creaking his neck to the left, Orpheus darts his eyes to the left and to the right as if counting the number of individuals that lay before him. With a cold voice and equally cold expression, he asks the men a question in a monotone voice. "That story of yours intrigues me, do you mind regaling me with its contents." His eyes shifted to the seated man to the left of the others, noticing a gaze singling him out, he rises to his feet with hostile intentions as the others follow suit.
As they all rise to their feet and brandish their weapons, George pulls out his slick steel dagger, the other two draws out small short swords from their waists, at the head, Butch withdraws a slightly longer steel short sword and points it at Orpheus. His aggressive expression obviously building up within his gaze, Butch steps forward and placed the tip of the blade a few centimetres from Orpheus's chest in a threatening manner. His palm facing towards the ceiling with his wrist bent backwards in a weakened grip, lacking skill in brandishing a blade. With a steely voice and oddly commanding presence, Butch delivers his confident threat. "You better watch your mouth, little man." Butch angrily states in a clear contradiction in the height difference between the two men.
With the blade horizontal with the tip of the blade directed at Orpheus's chest, his expression towards this hostile action does not change. His eyes dip downwards, inspecting the steel sword, the blade was well maintained and possesses neither rust nor a dull edge. Lifting his gaze back to the enemy before him, he speaks in a cold and menacing tone. "Piece of advice... I would suggest not placing the blade so close to an enemy when threatening them." A confused expression flashes across Butch's face as he turns his gaze to the right, smiling to his men behind him.
A devilish smirk appears on Orpheus's face as his mind focuses on his left arm, with clear thoughts he imagines a thin ethereal shield covering his arm from his wrist to his elbow. Contego. Uttering a single word, ethereal energy begins to amass on his left arm in the shape of a cylindrical shield, with a swift and striking action he thrusts his left arm forward. Arching his elbow, he deflects the sword's blade from the right parrying it to the left, shifting his stance he puts forward his right foot and firmly plants himself sideways. Before Butch can react Orpheus's, right elbow impacts his left temple with a decisive blow, dazed and confused Orpheus quickly grabs the sword from his loosened grip and pulls it away.
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Rotating the sword anticlockwise he reverses the blade towards Butch and swiftly plunges it deep into his chest, with a jerking motion Butch fumbles forward in agony, a gurgling sound of pain is heard as he drops to the ground. Kneeling down to the floor in pain, the others are taken aback in fear, Orpheus's cold gaze scans the men for a moment before glancing down to his kneeling foe, he turns to face him. Tugging and pulling on the blade, the man groans in agony, grasping the hair on Butch's head tightly with his right hand, Orpheus withdraws the blood-stained blade from his chest. Blood spurts from the wound, staining the floor below, Orpheus retracts the blade to his right side as he gazes at the fearful men before him, with a clean and swift slice he decapitates the kneeling man.
With his lip body dropping to the floor, even more, blood spews from his severed neck upon the floor, with a cold malice born expression, Orpheus nonchalantly tosses the severed head onto the table. Rolling towards the centre the vacant eyes of the head meet his comrades as their fear grows ever more in the wake of this brutality. Wielding the blood-stained blade to his right side, Orpheus speaks up with a malevolent smile upon his face. "Now, about that story of yours." As his cold statement ends, his grin widens as if relishing the carnage, he has brought to them.
Small blood drops begin falling to the floor in tiny droplets sliding down Orpheus's newly acquired sword, his expression now waiting for a reply. The surviving three men glance at each other with terrified expressions as their frozen bodies shake in terror, a moment passes as they all swiftly turn around and make for the exit. Crowding the door, they each violently compete for the first to exit, clawing and pushing each other as if their former comradery and suddenly vanished.
Orpheus sighs at the pitiful act he had just witnessed; with a disappointed expression, he raises his left hand in the air as if grasping an invisible object. As they struggle to open the door, Orpheus begins to chant his spells. Protego. Flicking his fingers counterclockwise an ethereal wave pultrudes from his grasp, starting out as a small cervical ball it erupts and expands outwards. The ethereal energy covers the entire room, passing through the occupants and furniture, covering the walls, windows and doors, before vanishing.
The struggling men tilt their heads at the strange occurrence and turn back to gaze at Orpheus. With his piercing and the harsh gaze of absolute concentration he pushes forward his left hand and chants further magic. Mutare Contrarium. The ethereal barrier covering the room suddenly writhes back into existence for a few seconds before vanishing once again. Dumbfounded Geoge pushes in front and reaches for the door with his right hand, suddenly the ethereal barrier appears preventing him from reaching the door handle.
Angered George along with the others begin pounding there fists on the steel like barrier in a foolish attempt to damage with sheer physical force. Pounding on the invisible barrier several ripples of energy appear with each thud of fists. Orpheus Places his left hand to his side and nonchalantly looks off into the left as if waiting for something with a bored expression. Several moments pass by as the three men cease their futile efforts and turn to Orpheus with fatigued expressions.
Still looking off into the distance with a bored expression as his lips move from side to side, he slowly turns his gaze to the three hostiles in front of him. "Given up already? Perhaps you should try punching it some more." With his sarcastic tone and a devilish smile, he states mockingly. The three men regain their former energy and deliver a scolding expression of murderous intent, the two to the right stand back in fear as George steps forward.
Managing his breathing in an attempt to overcome his fear with calmness, George speaks up and directs a question to the enemy in front of him. "What... what have you done?" His question spoken in a cracked and obviously fear driven tone of voice reaches Orpheus's ears and reacts with an expression of indifference.
A loud sigh is heard from Orpheus as he shrugs his shoulders, with his gaze glaring at them he gives his explanation in a soft tone. "It's nothing much really, a simple protection spell I inverted, normally it prevents foes from entering." Stepping forward like a predator beginning his attack, Orpheus continues his explanation whilst tilting his head and gesturing his left hand. "But now... it prevents them from leaving, an effective trap? No?" With a sarcastic smile, he directs a rhetorical question to the men before him.
With the reality of the situation sinking into their minds, George begins to quickly think of his options, a few moments pass and he lifts his gaze and speaks. "So we will have to kill you to escape right? I don't know much about magic but as long as you can't recast the spell, this will all fade soon." With a glimmer of hope accumulating in his mind, he turns to his fearful allies, alleviating their despair with his words.
Orpheus's gaze glares at George as a mistakingly sincere smile appears on his face, raising both his hands, his right still grasping the blood dripping sword, he gives a mild clap. "Congratulations, you are right on the mark, I guess I underestimated your intelligence." His voice filled with malice rather then sincerity now, begins to enrage George who signals his men to step forward with his eyes. Gripping their blades and advancing forward in a pincer movement, with two to the right and George by himself to the left. Orpheus reacts calmly as he reaffirms his grip to the sword in his right hand and readies himself for violence to ensue.
As the men advance to a distance roughly two metres from their target, Orpheus clicks his tongue and begins to chant a spell. The three men react to his words in a desperate manner and quickly step forward as George shouts. "Don't let him cast a spell." Spurned by those words they all raise their blades and barrel forward.
Before advancing at least a metre forward, Orpheus finishes his spell. Subcinctus Egomet. With those simple words spoken, Orpheus suddenly vanishes before the men's eyes with a whooshing sound as the floor mildly rumbles. Turning there gazes left to right the three men frantically look around in a panic, after several seconds of observing the quiet surroundings, the two men on the right hear a faint thud behind them. Within a split second they both turn around in the direction of the noise, what appeared before them was a sword-wielding Orpheus. Striking forward with his left hand, he violently grips the man's right shoulder as the other watches from behind him. Before the man can even respond and raise his short sword, Orpheus plunges his blade deep into the man's chest.
Fresh deep red blood begins to seep from the wound as the man quivers in fear and pain, by pure instinct and reflex he drives down his sword towards Orpheus, with what little strength he possesses. The blade descends towards Orpheus's shoulder, quickly he turns his gaze to the gleaming blade and chants a spell. Contego. With the spell activated a rectangular ethereal barrier as strong as steel manifests before him, intercepting the blade. With the clash of the two opposing forces, the blade and barrier shutter from the impact, staggering back the sword drops to the ground.
His body shuttering in pain, Orpheus looks at his brutal act with an expressionless face as he pushes the blade further into his chest. The man behind him was taken aback for a moment before suddenly coming to his senses, pressing forward and to the right, he begins his attack. Stretching his right arm he propels his blade towards Orpheus's left side, as the blade curves around from the side, suddenly a faint cry of pain is heard. The body now pierced through the chest suddenly thrusts to the left, in between the blade and Orpheus. Gliding through the air, the sword lodges itself deep into the man's skull, with a crushing sound, the blade slices through the thin skin lining and pierces his right temple.
A slight yelp can be heard as the light in the man's eyes disappear entirely, causing his limp and lifeless body to slump onto the ground. In shock, the lets go of his blade piercing his friend's skull as Orpheus lets go of the blade embedded into the man's stomach. The shocked man stares blankly down at the limp body for a moment, before lifting his gaze to Orpheus stepping forward. Before he can react Orpheus punches him into the stomach with his right fist, now winded and disorientated, Orpheus grips his right shoulder tightly and violently pulls his body downwards. Stepping into a side face stance he rips the man's head to his knee. Blood spurts from his nose as he fades into unconsciousness. As he falls to the ground, Orpheus lets go of his shoulder and turns to the final man left standing as a sudden thud can be heard next to him.
For a moment the two men glare at each other, with Orpheus retaining his cold and calm expression. The other man known as George trembles with fear as he desperately holds the dagger in his right hand. With his thoughts frantically thinking of any way out of this perilous situation, his attention is quickly gained as Orpheus begins to speak. A slight grin appears on his face, portraying a false sense of sincerity and care as the icy words pour out. "Again, please continue with your story, I'd love to hear it." His words speak in a mismatched tone with a blatant contradiction in both the intent of his words and expression.
With his fear growing beyond limits, his legs begin to tremble in despair, moments later he immediately clenches his fists in an attempt to endure. Stealing his courage he yells in anger with his now uncontrollable mouth forming hostile words. "What!" With his volume permeating the room with wrath and frustration, his gaze piercing forward he yells once more. "What do want me to tell you about that dumb bitch, so what I took her money and cut her face, what does it matter!" The aggressive tone of his voice skyrockets as he rants further to the expressionless Orpheus.
With his heavy breathing and grunting behaviour, he attempts to centre himself as he waits for Orpheus's next action. His gaze bows downward as he furrows his eyebrows in deep thought, a moment later he lifts his gaze and asks the heaving man a question. "This... bitch you speak of, do she have long dark hair, blue eyes and is she... incredibly beautiful?" Asking his poignant question he glares maliciously at the man lake a serpent eyeing his prey. With those words suddenly ringing in his ears, an obvious portrayal of recognition gleams on his face, for all to see.