Of Mercs of Metalflanks [App + Bann]

[Bannhammer]

A tavern near Germaney, one of Martel Von Starkhuf's favorite places to be. A tankard sat in front of him, frothy ale spilling out of the newly poured drink. He reached for it, but stopped himself, remembering why he was here. Marty was a mercenary, after all, and the contract comes first. The nervous stallion next to him gave a solemn chuckle and sipped his own glass of beer, returning to his paranoia.

As a Von Starkhuf, Martel's services were in high demand, and this particular pony seemed in desperate need. It was the typical 'protect me' contract, and he was more than willing to oblige, as long as he was still being paid. Once he learned that he client had family, Martel had drastically dropped his rate, something he had no problem doing. This was an easy job and he had already escorted his client out of danger, and they were almost home free, just one final pit stop before entering Germaney.

It wasn't easy, especially with Marty's stunted leg, but his brace held up and the pair of ponies managed to get back home. He often found himself struggling with his leg, but Marty was able to overcome it, he had to. He may be a large stallion, even for an earth pony, but there were still many that doubted him. Most of his family still didn't consider himself worthy of the Von Starkhuf name, and he was out to prove himself.

With his trusty hammer, Zornstahl, sitting on the counter in front of him, Martel felt as confident as ever. If anypony posed even the slightest threat to his client, he could deal with him. Alas, only an idiot would try to take on a Von Starkhuf, everypony in the business knows who they are, at least, Marty thought so.

Draping his large red cloak, emblazoned with his family crest, over his deep purple pelt, Martel took a moment to scan the crowd, and only when he deemed the coast clear did he allow himself to relax. With a glass full of beer, Martel gave a warm bellow and slapped the nervous stallion on the back.

"What is there to be worrying about? We are almost back at home, drink, and be merry!" He didn't allow his client to respond, and the large stallion raised his glass and offered a toast.

Martel felt pretty confident, and it seemed that nothing would sour this milk run.

"To victory! I am on the next round!" A rancorous cheer erupted from the other patrons, everypony liked free drinks. Only a single pony didn't cheer, a cloaked pony off in the corner that immediately drew Martel's attention. He couldn't make out many details, but he knew that a pony that didn't like free drinks was a suspicious one indeed. No matter, if they were a problem, he would deal with them accordingly. With another glance at the other pony, Martel returned to his drink.

[Appliance]

Personal reasons. She was here for personal reasons.

Silversword certainly landed herself in strange places for personal reasons.

It wasn't as if the traveling bothered her, though. It was the stress of being in a place where she felt completely out of place. This happened often, however, so she wasn't as bothered by it as she could have been.

She was alone, however, and near Germaney, nonetheless. She didn't know a lick of Germane, but she still hoped to be able to find what she needed when she got there, but Silversword would have a few drinks in this tavern first, to lift her spirits.

As soon as she'd trotted in, she found a table at a corner of the bar, where she could rest her back against the wall. It made her less nervous, and it was not as if she were seeking company.

The table at the corner would do fine for her.

Glancing around, Silver didn't find much to interest her, really, for this was just like any other tavern that she'd been to. Having ordered and received her drink of choice, she gave herself the time to watch the ponies that were mingling. As she sipped at her bitter-tasting ale, one pony caught her attention.

It was a stallion, larger than any she'd ever seen before. His pelt was a deep purple, such a contrast to her own pale pelt, which had gained her her name, and he sat besides a very meek-looking stallion, one with a shifty gaze and fear in his eyes.

The purple stallion seemed merry enough, comforting the other, and he offered a free round of drinks to the others. Judging by his accent, he was clearly Germane, and perhaps that would account for the ridiculously large glass of beer in front of him. After all, no pony other than a Germane would be able to stomach such amounts of alcohol and not black out immediately.

The entire tavern erupted in cheers, and Silversword's ears folded back at the noise, and she tugged at the hood of her cloak, attempting to muffle out the noise discreetly.

She noticed, however, that the stallion glanced at her for a moment, and not in a very friendly way.

Uncomfortable, her eyes narrowed very slightly, and she reached a hoof under her cloak, where her sword was slung onto her back.

Silver wasn't here to cause conflict, but she wasn't going to be intimidated by a pony with an.. insignia on his cloak.

Her frown changed to a scowl, and she glowered at the stallion for a moment, hoof still under her cloak and on her weapon, before she abruptly turned away from him and back to her drink, taking a deep gulp.

[Bannhammer]

Martel took a gulp from his tankard and faced the bar, turning his back to the suspicious pony. That scowl was just more evidence that they were up to no good. He kept his cheery disposition if only to fool any other ponies into thinking he was unaware. The large mirror behind the bar offered a great chance for passive surveillance, all Marty had to do was glance ahead and he could see the target. They may notice, they may not, it didn't really matter. 

To help his ruse, Marty would still shout, sing, and laugh, trying not to show just how concerned he was. The mysterious pony was wearing a large cloak, and it was hard to see if they were armed or not. Of course, Martel always assumed the worst, and so now he was dealing with a stranger with a weapon. Martel wasn't the kind of Stallion to play the waiting game, his lack of speed guaranteed that any battle of reaction times would most certainly not go his way. Action first, worry about consequences later.

After only another minute or so of watching the reflection, Marty tapped the bar seven times. The barkeep approached but stopped when Marty lifted a hoof. Without a word the purple stallion looked at his drink and performed some movements with his hoof, which the bartender quickly picked up on. His client had no clue what was going on, and he tugged on Martel's tunic.

With a quick sigh, Martel started explaining, wearing a grin to mask his words. "Barkeep will be watching over you while I address something, I will be back." Of course, Martel didn't fill him in with all the details, mainly because the last thing he wanted was a panicky client.

After chugging the rest of his drink. Martel picked up the hammer lying on the counter and lifted up a part of his tunic, revealing chain maille. With a -click- he attached the hammer to himself and let it hang freely at his side within reach. His client's eyes widened with fear, but a reassuring hoof from Martel calmed him down for the moment.

Without waiting any longer, Martel grabbed a pair of nearby ponies and started signing, soon the entire tavern erupted into an old Germaneic folk song. With two ponies in tow, Martel approached the suspicious pony, who did not seem pleased. He tried his best to mask his stunted leg, hoping that the pony didn't see their advantage. The singing continued, and drowned outthe Von Starkhuf's words to the two 'recruited' stallions who quickly nodded in compliance. 

As the trio approached, the song died down and soon the three ponies stood in front of the small table in the corner, smiling. Martel nudges the two of them and chuckles, before looking dead at the smaller pony. His smile faltered for just a second.

"Excuse me, Frau, but I had been making bet that you are not from Germaney. These foals..." He ruffles their manes. "... I am telling these foals that Germaney does not have such pretty mares! Would you be settling this for us?"

He was't being entirely dishonest, even though she was probably an assassin bent on killing Martel and his client, she was pretty. He could barely see anything with that cloak in the way, but he had a feeling that she was hiding a bit more than beauty.

[Appliance]

There was something odd about the purple-pelted stallion, Silversword thought.

She wasn't the type of pony to simply go up and "talk about it" to others, so she remained quiet and brooding, observing the patrons of the tavern.

You're fine as long as you don't draw attention to yourself. Luckily, that brute is drawing all the crowds, anyway, so you're in the clear...

Odd, now he appeared to be working out a deal or something of the sort with... the barkeep?

Her head tilted a bit to get a better view, but she could make no sense of what she saw. The scowl increased, and she went back to her drink, hooves tapping idly on the table.

Just what is he playing at? Perhaps he's a hotshot stallion that everypony loves, but if that were so, why does he look so nervous? Stiff movements, quick glances around..

She hissed quietly. This stallion was subtle, but not subtle enough. There was something bothering him, she could tell, and his strange hoof movements had to me a signal or message of some sort.

Judging from what she'd observed so far, this stallion was not one to mull things over. Of this, she was nearly certain.

Was it, perhaps, she who was bothering him? If he came to the tavern regularly, the arrival of a new, sullen pony might be unsettling, sure, but to this extent?

At a signal from the crowd-loving stallion, the tavern burst into song, and she was bewildered, not understanding a single word of it.

.

Oh, Celestia.

The purple stallion was approaching, with two others in tow. She reached once again for her weapon before composing herself, eyes slightly narrowed as she watched them trot over.

"Excuse me, Frau, but I had been making bet that you are not from Germaney. These foals..."

"... I am telling these foals that Germaney does not have such pretty mares! Would you be settling this for us?"

Her eyes widened, ears folding back. His voice was smooth, and had she not known better, she would have thought his words to be genuine.

A pony like him doesn't go over looking as tense as he does if he wishes to flirt.

Calmly, she took another sip of her drink and wiped her muzzle with her hoof. She hoped she seemed unimpressed with his friendliness, and that he would get the message and back off.

Her eyes narrowed again, and she watched the stallion with a piercing glare.

"I am not from Germaney, but that ought to be a very obvious thing to see," she muttered, her eyes still focused on him.

[Bannhammer]

"I am not from Germaney, but that ought to be a very obvious thing to see."

Not from Germaney...

Martel smiled wide and returned her scowl with kindness, barely masking severe distrust. All he knew, however, was that she wasn't from here, but that doesn't prove she's an assassin. He just couldn't get over how odd she was being, her secluded nature coming across as suspicious more than anything else.

With a nudge, be dismissed the other two ponies, he had gotten closer to her, so they had served their purpose. One of then theatrically passed him a few bits, along with some hushed words, before grabbing the other and doing as Martel told. Soon he was alone with the made, and he took a moment to think before approaching further.

 She wore a cloak, which is an obvious attempt to hide something. Not to mention the constant shuffling underneath, this mare with had an itch or she was on the verge of slicing him in half. Obviously she could be very dangerous, but If she was that secretive, he had to stay close, unnerve her, make her slip up.

You don't survive being a mercenary by being an idiot...

Without being invited, Martel walked around the table, the -clank- of his metal hoof easily audible in the now relatively quiet tavern. He gently took a seat on one of the cushions and gave the mare an almost genuine smile. He put a hoof on the table and cleared his throat, taking a moment to examine her even more closely. She wasn't very happy, but why? Annoyance? Suspicion? Fear of being discovered? Martel had to know, for the safety of his client.

"Ah, I am sorry for their behavior, usually I do not make bets. I guess I am making exception for you!" He puts a little extra brogue into his words, piling on the charm. Martel reached up with a hoof and ruffled it through his own mane. "So, what is bringing you to Germaney? I did not think that Italilians would be coming here during winter."

As he spoke, another pony approached and gave Martel his tankard. The large purple stallion thanked the deliverer and added in a few more words, in Germane, of course. With a turn of his head and a flip of his mane Martel faced the  are again, adjusting his tunic to 'accidentally' allow her to catch a glimpse of his chain maille.

With a large gulp from his tankard, Martel waited for a reply.