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Felix and Jin

 
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Felix and Jin
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Tudutsujin

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The night was cold and quiet, but the bar was hot and bustling. Young curvaceous wenches are forced to skillfully navigate a moving maze of stumbling patrons and grasping hands. Warriors tell tails of triumph, political wannabes rant about the flaws of our system and bards play newly written ballads, but it all just turns to noise as it comes barreling towards the outside world. Within all this cheer and drunken love sits a rather disgruntled looking man. The room and everyone in it seems to shake with happiness but this man sits still as stone, weighted down by a heavy heart as well as steel shackles. The large Nordic warrior sits slightly hunched over himself looking down at his own shackled hands, his eyes filled with more anger than regret. Chains from those cuffs run along the wooden floor and to a bar stool beside him where a fat and powerful templar guard enjoys his ale. The guard laughs and carries on with the bar keep. He seems to have few cares or concerns knowing how much coin will fill his purse when he turns in the convict at the end of his leash, Felix is his name and 100 gold was his worth.

Felix was most obviously a being built for battle by the gods. If you had asked the barkeep to describe him you would only get a response consisting of expletives and legend level exaggeration. Thanks to bar keeps like this one, men like Felix would be remembered as walking bastions. Surely, stories told about Felix would paint him to be a twelve feet tall beastly man snarling and brandishing a massive blade with deadly precision at any chance he got. He would be remembered as having so many scars you could find scriptures carved into his flesh but still he stands. Though in reality he was just a man like any other.

In reality Felix stands at a height of six feet plus with an overbearing weight. He has a generous bulk but it wasn't what most people would call toned or by any means attractive. Every part of his body has a rugged sense to it including his face. His hair is almost waist length and golden blond. His eyes are a piercing and powerful blue. The nord's body was indeed riddled with scars both wide and deep. One scar of particular note was fresh, leading hip to shoulder, evidence of his capture by the templar. Felix runs one of his worn hands over the freshest wound contemplating his captors demise.

The weather that night was dreadful compared to most. On a normal night most of these men would have wandered home to their wives by now, but on a night like this there is nothing you could do but drink. The rain was so thick you could barley see and no one dared walk out of the tavern. The door to the pub swung open and a shadowy figure stood there surveying the room. Dispite the lantern lights of the bar this figure remained a silhouette back-dropped by a solid wall of rain. The mysteriously cloaked character walked to a table in the corner of the pub where there was barely any light and sat down. It wore a traditional black cloak with the hood pulled up. No matter how hard you tried you couldnt never manage to see the figures face. For some reason, even in the light, the hood remain dark. It was as if the darkness within the hood was unnatural.

You might have heard of him in passing, as a rumor or a myth, nothing more. Jin the wanderer. Jin sat there and looked around the room pondering to himself, What a filthy disgusting place this is. Nothing but whores and scum of the worst kind. The pub was the typical back water hang out in a small no-name town. This place looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks and smelled like it hadn't been cleaned in months. As he looks around he saw a big nordic man chained to a templar who was drinking enough to kill a small army. For a moment Jin looked at the felon, but quickly lost interest and pulled a time torn book out of what you would think was a pocket inside the cloak. As he begins to look through the pages he gets lost in thought of things to do and things that have been done.



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