Thread: Twisted Fates - Risi & Caspian

Vivian's carriage came down the road clip-clopping towards the inn. It was a dirty, filthy pub full of ruffians, gamblers and prostitutes. In a perfect world Vivian wouldn't set foot within the neighbourhood, let alone into this hovel of a pub. There were three reasons Vivian came here to celebrate every once in a blue moon. One was the prostitutes who frequented the establishment would come to him and offer their services. Vivian never accepted their company for the night, but it was nice for a woman to talk kindly to him so he would buy them a drink or two to listen to their stories. Inevitably one would ask to see his face and he would refuse until, weary with the charade, he would tip his cloak back revealing the mass of scar tissue bisecting his face. The left, smooth and handsome like the boy he was before the accident. Fate was cruel and though one side of his face never aged, the other was a grotesque mask of red and twisted flesh. The doctor said it was a miracle that he kept his eye, but the iris was bleached to a dull-grey and the vision was painful if he focused too hard. The second reason was because many of the men here worked for him in some capacity, although none of them knew. It was a small kindness to ensure that they had at least one night every so often when they could go home and cheer at their fortune. The third reason was the most important. No-one asked questions. No-one asked who he was or what happened to his face or how he had enough money every so often to pay for the drinks. As a matter of fact the bar tender and he had an agreement that no-one was to know. The bartender would stop charging for drinks as soon as Vivian entered the pub and sent a bill only slightly inflated to the mill the following week. Vivian could come and go and have his night of fun. There was a table of gamblers in one of the dark booths in the back. Vivian never gambled, but he listened to their coarse banter and their cursing. He might have joined them one day, but today he just wanted to drink to his Uncle. May the poor bugger get a pox in hell from Satan himself, he grimaced and took a heavy draft of warm, flat ale. As the evening progressed a fight broke out from one of the booths and a man went for the door. Another man stepped in front of him and helped him through the door, following. Vivian knew it was going to get rough in there very soon so he nodded to his driver who went and got the carriage. He pulled his cloak and walking stick from the booth and walked out the door into the poorly lit street. He knew it would take a moment or two for the driver to get the horse and carriage, so he walked out around the corner to relieve himself of all the ale in his gut. Suddenly he heard three voices. There was a sharp groan and a grunt followed by a soft thud. Vivian raced down the alley to find a man knelt over a woman brandishing a knife. Another man was on the ground, stabbed in the gut. As the man reached down to grab the girl he heard the sound of Vivian coming at him. As he lifted his head he heard the hissing swing of Vivian's walking stick seconds before it connected with the thug's head, dropping him to the ground. The thug lay motionless and Vivian went back to get the driver to help load the injured man and the girl into the carriage. The man had been stabbed in the Liver. It was only a matter of time before he was lost.