I get ill for a minute and this happens

hello hello hello

The sight of the drunken seagull was a welcome one, especially since Damon had just spent the last two weeks in a never-ending fever dream. Thanks to an infected wound on his back that now remained as nothing more than a new scar. 'If I ever find that wannabe healer again that forgot to clean a giant wound, they will wish to have never been born.' Thankfully, another healer from Sussex was able to get him healthy again, but still, the white wolf didn't plan to lose more of his supplies to another healer. Growling lowly, the mercenary took the last steps until he was finally inside.

Immediately the different voices of the Patrons greeted him. Games were played, and the smell of fruits and alcohol was in the air. But Damon was not here for any of that. No, he really needed to talk to the Captain or at least to Pan. Apparently, Leviathan managed to get himself caught, and the 3-year-old couldn't wait to hear how that happened. So as Damon let his eyes wander over the crowd, he soon found whom he was looking for. 'At least some things are going right.'
ROUND ONE
@Pan @Leviathan

"My scars are my Story."

S

cars told stories, etched deep in flesh and bone, the blood their bond, sinew and muscle bound to tales not long forgotten. Some were open with these tokens of war and strength, the ability to survive and jolt out of situations of death, narrowly escaping the reaper. Others, such as Pan, were not so open about these legacies, for his life with not only wound with violence, cunning, and power—it was also filled with sorrow, and his own sorrows he’d rather not share.

He sat at the bar, sipping on a shell filled with a plain wine. It was not his favorite, but it was also not so bad, the fruit mild and bitter upon his tongue. He did not usually break out his good stash until he had company. And, it seemed, he would not be drinking alone tonight. “Damon, me lad,” he started, a glint in his good eye. “So ye finally decided t’ come ‘round, eh? With a new canvas of flesh wounds? What a sight, ain’t it?”

@Damon @Leviathan

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

hello hello hello

The old gray man was always a welcome sight especially now. Damon groaned at the mention of his new scar. dropping his head with a bang onto the bar. "Don't mention it. That thing gave me more trouble than the guy who ripped my ear off." He looked at his surrogate father out of the corner of his eye, a grin starting to spread. " But tell me, I heard the most curious thing about our captain. Something about trying to kill the king?" he lowered his voice at the end, one couldn't be sure if another informant would try to gather news and hints.

"What made him do such a thing? I know he is a risk taker but that sounds plain suicidal." There were only two things that could make Levi do such an act. Either he found out something about the king that was personal. Or HE ordered the kill. And Damon didn't really want to think about the implications of that. 'please just let it be Captain levi trying to fly too high.'


ROUND ONE
@Pan @Leviathan

"My scars are my memories"

The smell of mongrels, wines, spirits, sea salt and worse drifted through the chilling air. It was enough to turn the sensitive nosed away, but to the regulars, patrons and low-lives of the Guild it was comforting. It was welcoming. It was familiar.

Oh how he missed the sticky floors of this Tavern.

Icy eyes scoured the faces that gawked. Some whispered, cackling into their shells and lapping up the fluids. Others out right hollered, heckling his failed, petty plan. But it was not his own, no. It was Rook's doing, a pathetic plan. Thus,his mistake.

It was almost like Rook had set Levaithan up to fail.

The whispers of paranoia clung to the back of his mind, yet those powerful jaws clenched; forcing his emotions away. Down, the wolf carved from ice was a master at his game, his poker face immaculate; cracks unseen. So that chin lifted and the debonair smile returned.

Where the weaker man fell, he rose as Captain.

please just let it be Captain levi trying to fly too high.' A quirk of a brow as a glimpse of a ghost caught his vision, speckled in sparks of the night. "There’s no fun in being sensible, His tone was aimed to shock; as bold and as brass as ever. For a ghost, those are some bold words."Sliding beside the paler male, he gestured to the barkeep. Yes, he needed something strong."So, Damon my old friend... What brings you here, hm? Don't tell me you missed me?" He added with a wink.


"And Pan, you old sea dog! What tales do you have for me?" An amused chuckle rumbled from his chest, eyes caught the barkeep whom slid the filled conch shell towards him. The reward was an oh so handsome smile... and perhaps something later, too.

Oh how good it was to be home.



"honour the gods that walk among us"

art from soar <3

@Pan