#truly-amusing

@truly-amusing 

He finally had the time to take a calm walk around the hamlet: check the place, see some faces. Since he had arrived to the estate, he had already been sent to three expeditions without any rest in between except standing there, seeing the heiress everything his team needed. He, however, came back earlier from the last one, refusing to continue due to... circunstamces. He definitely needed some rest, and the heiress noticed this after these events.

So after spending the last 2 days closed in the bunkhouse, he stepped outside for some fresh air. That doctor had told him it would do him good. No one he had worked with the last week was around, probably looking for some rest, but he did see some known faces, who he prefered not to distract from their conversations.

Until he saw, or rather, heard something that got his attention. Someone, sitting down on a rug next to the abbey, played a soft but sweet melody with a lute. Did the man love music, he wouldn’t reject a chance like this to talk about these topics with who seemed an experimented man in this art. 

As he approached the musician, he could see he was dressed on a rather flamboyant manner, giving his intuition a word on saying he was probably some kind of fool. 

He started tunning the instrument, when Verral knelt down in front of him, pointing at the lute and in a serious tone asked.

“It must be... quite the act for so many of yours to check out my physical form... Making sure we can team up for the next mission?”

“Sort of, ser, sort of. I am just testing if your shoulders could support me for a handstand. Such a thing is always better to know before the actual act comes.”

“...”

“You’re correct on that. However, I cannot comprehend how you’d test such a thing from down there.”

And after saying that, he kneels down, giving a grip to his left shoulder. 

“Oh ma’am, do not be so touchy, I am just merely admiring a piece of art.” He sounded rather hurt as he took few steps back with his hands risen and opened. Sickle and dirk at his belt, he clearly meant no harm other than gibbering people to death.

He touched his cap, counted the jingles and sighed: “You got me. I am one of the eight-tentacled glubbing horrors from the coves My head is at your disposal, just don’t tell in the tavern I’m a fish. They’d think me eating my own kind, I had a trout there yesterday.” But where and how did he get a trout in here?

With a petulant tut and a melodramatic folding of the arms, Morven stuck her nose up at the impertinent jester, clearly without any patience for his tomfoolery. Ignoring all of his nonsense about being a many tentacled horror, she fumed, muscles stiff.

Locke sat down next to her like a good jester he was and chuckled. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to be fed to the beasts, hm?” He poked her and added: “Though they wouldn’t get much to chew on, maybe cut their maws at max.” There was a short wave at the bartender accompanied: “I’ll have whatever she’s having. With a straw.”