The Blue Manray

[Flex]

ooc: shall we put this up as a fight, say to first blood or something?

[Deleted]

People gasp and pull back as the duel begins, and soon Morho is knocked down by an especially powerful blow that cuts his wrist. Morho screams. Blood begins to spray, and the bravo's face turns ashen.

[Flex]

Beric turns to the crowd. "Well someone get him some bloody help!" He walks up to the waterdancer and helps him up. "Well fought, Morho."

[Deleted]

Morho gasps again as Beric helps him up, and a healer from the crowd comes forward, and with the help of some men, rest him on a bench while the healer cleans the cut and bandages it.

Morho is still pale, but he manages to smile at Beric for the first time and rasps, "You fucking bastard. That was good, very good."

[Flex]

"You see, not all Westerosi Knights are bad swordsmen. However, not all Bravos are windbags either." Beric said and went back inside The Blue Manray.

[The Smith]

A slim, lithe man enters the Blue Manray and sits himself at the Bar. His eyes sweep the tavern before he orders from the keeper.

[Deleted]

The fat innkeeper gives him his beer and goes back to wiping glasses dry.

[Flex]

Beric sits himself at his table and finds the bottle of wine he had was now gone. He ordered another and went back to his thoughts.

[The Stranger]

Gaharr Tohn enters the Blue Manray, as he does every week at about this time. The giant of a man, his halberd strapped to his back, nods respectfully to the barkeep, before finding his usual seat. His face scans the crowd...looking for someone he does not expect to see.

[Flex]

Looking at his hands Beric remarks on the skill of the man he had just fought. He had never had any true respect for the Bravos but this man had definately had talent. As he reached for his wine bottle Beric spotted a man, sitting not to far away from him. He was a huge man, albeit quite old. Their eyes locked. Sudden realization overcame Beric.

[The Stranger]

Tohn, could not believe his eyes, but what other possiblity was there. There were none who looked quite like his fosterling Beric. Even as a grown man, the resemblance was obvious. Overcome with this sudden understanding, the older man found himself unable to move.

[Flex]

This was impossible. Gaharr Tohn had died, yet now he was there, staring right at him. Beric tried to remember... it had been a gloomy day and Beric had been out doing chores. When he had come back, the maid had told him his foster father had passed on. 'I never saw the body!'

Unsteady he rose, the effects of the alcohol gone. He didn't know what to feel and every step towards the man seemed to take an eternity.

As Beric finally stood before his former foster father, he felt a tear roll down his cheeck.

"Ga... Gaharr? Is it truly you?"

[The Stranger]

"Beric! After all these years, I looked for you, you find me!" the old man stood and gripped the man in a bear hug. "Oh gods, after so long!"

[Flex]

Beric felt like he was being compressed into a tiny ball. The man was still as strong as he remembered him. "There is much we must talk about, old friend, albeit in private." Beric wiped another tear from his face and nodded to the stairs. He started walking and looked back to see Gaharr following him.

Happiness and anger were the emotions Beric felt, and he had only one question on his mind: why?

[Flex]

Beric and Gaharr disappear to the formers room. Half an hour later both return, Beric sitting down at his table and Gaharr leaving the tavern.