Howling Thunder Ch2.8
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The fog eventually seems to settle to the ground and we come to the sight of a small village nestled in the tree filled valley with nearby high cliffs on either side of town. Up past the village a torchlit road winds up the cliff side to a large dark keep, its windows glow with lamp lights.
Light floods the road through the center of town from the front window of a large building, the source of the bewitching music. A few folks walk out from a side alley while laughing, they pay us no mind and walk to the door of the building. As they open the front door, the volume of sound flairs up and the sound of merry patrons spills into the night. Seems like it's a tavern of sorts.
We walk up and glance into the window.
Men and women in rather expensive looking formal clothes dance energetically in front of performing troupe of musicians. Large string instruments, shining brass horns, a large piano, and a woman in a brilliant red dress in front singing her heart out.
Seated at the tables around the dancers could easily amount to a hundred people. Even now the infectious music makes me tap my foot.
Mora pinches my arm.
I smile, “Looks like a good time, let’s go.”
At the worst I’m walking into a horrible trap but it sure looks like a fun way to go out.
Walt simply follows my lead.
Opening the door once more fills my ears with the din of people having a good time while dancing to the music, swinging their partners all across the floor.
But another sense abruptly interrupts the good mood. My nose, and a quick glance at the tables in the room reveals why.
I don’t smell any food, I don’t smell any wine. What I do smell, the only things in fact, is perfume, tobacco smoke, and blood. While every table seems to have glasses of what from outside appeared to be red wine, all I smell is a horrendous amount of blood. I don’t smell any humans despite facing a room of over a hundred people.
Some glance our way with interest but all seem busy with their own night time fun.
Walt appears particularly on edge, I tap his shoulder and lead the way over to the bar counter.
A lanky man with long hair tied behind his head puts down a glass he was cleaning and straightens his suit vest.
“Well warg ears, tails, one white, one black, you must be the fenrir pups. You’re early, I was told to greet you on the dock in the morning.”
A woman in a white dress with red hair sips from her glass at the counter and looks us over, “They’re quite handsome, wonder if they care for some fun for the night. I don’t mind sharing with the little dragoness.”
The bartender scowls, “None of that Clair, look you’ve got work to do.”
He nods to the entrance as a few men wander into the tavern. From their cloths I’d guess them to be traveling merchants, what stray road led them into this town I’ve no idea.
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Clair takes one more drink and dabs away the blood from her upper lip. She stands and flashes us a fanged grin before walking over to greet the newcomers. A couple other women walk up to them and lead them all to the dance floor.
The men’s face’s quickly become vacant, the bewitching music, the smell of perfume, the beautiful women holding them. It’s all too clear how this works. Barely a moment passes before the girls lead the men to a back hall.
Once more Walt tenses up.
The bartender arches a brow, “A problem white pup?”
As my brother looks about to yell I cut him off, “You got any real alcohol back there?, Something dark if you please.”
The gentlemen nods and begins contemplating the wall of amber liquids behind him.
Walt glares at me.
Shaking my head, “It’s not our business brother, there's two sides to everything and we’re not here to cause trouble.”
The bartender chuckles as he fills my glass, “Well that certainly puts you in the wiser rankings of young fenrir to wander into my bar. I don't fancy explaining to the Lord once more I had to put a pup in his place. Your father was quite a handful, he had a bit of a righteous flair in him. Haha, you’d think he was a paladin from the old world.”
Clair returns, once more cleaning blood from her lips with a red cloth… she had left her drink here.
She smiles, “Telling old tales Harker?”
He chuckles but once more looks to the door, “Looks like you're in for a busy night miss.”
Looking back, this time it’s a few of our own soldiers. They must have snuck ashore with a boat.
Clair grins and hops up again, “Such a shame we don’t have time to chat young lords.”
This time Walt moves to stop her but his arm is immediately grabbed by Harker across the counter.
“Best behave little warg, I don’t fancy cleaning up after a fight and carrying you up to the castle.”
Sighing, “Let it be brother, try the whiskey.”
Walt scowls and looks over to Mora, “You don’t have a problem with this either?!”
Mora takes a seat next to me and pulls a book from her satchel, “Lord Walther I serve Lord Nox. Furthermore, as a valkyrie I have nothing but contempt for a soldier who fails to even make it to his appointed battlefield.”
I nod, “The captain told them they were wrote off as dead if they left the ship.”
Walt tries to pull his arm from the barkeep but finds himself unable.
The lanky Harker actually pulls him down into a seat, “You see, there is a natural order to things here, all things must eat to survive.”
Walt seems cowed for the moment.
Sliding my glass over for another round, “You say you met our father, and you seem to recognise worg from wolf?”
He nods, “Aye, I’ve lived here since the beginning, came over with the Lord. I should think that I would be able to tell the difference. We get all sorts in Verkod, even the stray dog wanders in from time to time. You wargs have been on the rare side these last few centuries. Relax, enjoy the music, a guard from the keep will be here shortly to collect you pups.”
I won’t bother asking when he sent word we had arrived.
Taking another drink I happen to glance down the counter and spot a man drooling, his red eye’s locked on Mora reading.
Swirling the drink in my hand, “Mister Harker was it? I believe we’re about to have a different sort of problem.”
I point at the fellow, the man in question seems to crazed to notice.
Harker frowns and places a white glove on his right hand, “Well there’s that sort in every town. We’ve had to welcome some new residents this year due to the rather compulsive guest staying in the keep. Some don’t make the transition so smoothly.”
Harker instantly disappears in a swirl of black mist. A muffled yell comes from down the counter.
The feral man is held aloft by the neck in Harkers grasp. He claws at his throat in desperation, his eyes starting to bulge. Harker flexes his arm, crushing right through the man's spine, removing his head from the kicking body.
A burst of ash and all that remains of the fellow is a grey pile on the floor.
The barkeep removes the glove with disdain, places it on the counter then snaps his fingers at a younger looking lady serving tables.
While Harker walks back around the counter she scurries over with a pan and broom. A quick sweep and the ashes are tossed outside.
Harker places a real glass of wine in front of Mora, “My apologies for the rude behavior of our departed fellow young miss.”
Mora looks up from her book confused. I don’t think she caught any of that.
Claire shows up a third time and gets a fresh drink just as we hear the sound of the front door opening again.
She slaps the counter, “Really I should have taken the night off!”
This time however it’s a pair of pale skinned men in blackened plate armor.
The barkeep smiles, “Well, it seems your visit here is finished, have a pleasant evening young lords. Don’t worry about the tab, the lord will cover it.”
Now that I think about it did I bring any coin on this little adventure?
Still I grin, “Thanks for the drinks. And good night miss Claire.”
She gives a little wave without setting down her drink from her lips.
We walk to the two guards who politely bow and guide us outside to carriage hitched to two black horses, their eyes as red as the guards.
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