Captain Mackerel and the Crocodile (Varlum)

[Rorom]

OOC

Lemme know if the date is no good

18th of Vhalar

Rorom had about a day to think over how he was going to help in the war effort, if there was going to be a war between Rharne and Rynmere. He decided he'd get some equipment, and enlist his services to the Navy, possibly even lend his ship and assume a captaincy. He wasn't quite clear on the details of how one got in with the Biqaj clan that contributed to the coastal defense of the city. He would find out one way or another.

He was browsing stalls at the Earth Market, when he felt a slap against his shoulder. It was Mirq. "Spending our money, eh?"

Rorom grunted with an underbreath chuckle, "You had your share of our take, Mirq. Don't tell me you blew it all in one night?"

"Far from it." Mirq raised an arm, letting a long string of golden and onyx nels shine in the sunlight. "I'm on a roll. Had some lightweight try to outdrink me. You'd think these Rharneans would be better at holding their liquor."

Rorom shrugged, looking from his string of nels, toward an artisan's stall, containing a collection of arms and armor. "Say, what's this?" Mirq asked, moving ahead of Rorom to inspect the weapons and armor. "Is peaceful old Rorom going to war or something? You're not leaving poor Eairok and Noille high and dry are you?" Mirq laughed. "Imagine, Captiain Mackerel, the adventuring fisherman." The scoundrel nearly bent over in laughter.

Rorom just grunted, taking his jibes with his usual good nature. "We all got to do our part, cousin. You have your way, I've got mine."

Mirq's laughter faded over the next bit, until he recovered. Then he got a serious look, "Look, Rorom. You just got your sloop, earned it. You're free and clear of debts, and now you're going to throw in with a military? I have a suggestion." Here, Mirq sidled up against Rorom, throwing an arm over the fisherman's shoulder, "Let's set sail out of here while the wind is still blowing. If war is going to come, there won't be any seed for poor Fortuna to eat. Get me? I know this chap in Etzos, has a legitimate trading enterprise. I could put in a good word for you, you're a good honest sailor with a fine ship. It's far better money than trading fish to Noille, or getting regular pay as a ship's boy in the navy."

Rorom shook his head, "Cousin, I pity you."

Mirq slapped him on the back once more, and then waved goodbye. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you about joining military. Once you're in, you don't come out. At least not as an honest man." The biqaj turned his back on Rorom then, leaving him to browse the plate helmets on offer at the stall.

[Varlum]

Thank fuck for trials off.

Despite working as a soldier for many Arcs, Varlum had to admit the work was anything but easy. Whether it was breaking up bar fights that had gone too far or dealing with some of the darker sides of Rharne, every day his life could be risked. Then again, it wasn't often that the people of Rharne posed too much of a threat for him, but it always paid to be prepared. After all, his expedition last season to the Stormwastes hadn't initially entailed giants that made even Varlum look small. Yet there it had been - the Flameborn. The only thing in Rharne that had almost killed him so far.

Even with his day off, however, Varlum spent the trial around the town. Now that he had decided on Rharne as a more permanent place to stay he'd been browsing the market more. It had been a while since he'd gotten his hands on a new weapon, after all. While he could try and make one for himself, Varlum knew well enough that his quality wouldn't match that of the Smiths in Rharne. Basic weapons weren't too difficult for the Ithecal, but the more advanced weapons were more what Varlum was looking for. Something unique and stronger. When he had been younger his Uncle once told him of an Ithecal, huge like Varlum, that wielded a flaming greatsword. Perhaps something along those lines would fit more to his tastes.

As he thought to himself and glanced over the weapons, Varlum overheard what was presumably the middle of a conversation. Rorom was, it seemed, the man considering joining the military. While his cousin, who's name Varlum never caught, seemed entirely against the idea of going to war - Rorom was the opposite. Despite a desire to intervene and point out that war wasn't everything Mirq seemed to think it was, Varlum kept his mouth quiet. No point interrupting a family. It wasn't his business too either, as much as new soldiers would be important if the war against Rynmere was really going to occur on the scale people feared it was. Tension often rose between cities without any real battles occurring, important figures deciding to swallow their pride rather than risk their castles being torn apart by the enemy forces. Only the men and women on the battlefield seemed willing to risk it all for their cities.

Once the conversation had ended, however, Varlum couldn't help himself. The towering Ithecal let his eyes fall over to Rorom with as gentle of a look as aman of his size could muster. "You're a brave man, willing to go to war with the rest of us" Varlum nodded, his weapon clear on his back. It took little for most to realise he was a Lightning Knight even when he was off duty, his axe not tied and his appearance hardened. Since recent events it seemed more people were recognising him, too, word spreading about him taking down a Flameborn to those that knew the survivors. While he wasn't famous in Rharne by any stretch, some recognition was starting to form.

"Name's Varlum, I'm a Lightning Knight" he smiled, offering his hand forward, the Shield of Ethelynda's blessing clear on the back of it.