will_scarlett | (no subject)

"Oh aye, think so just know isna near Nottingham or Lincoln."

"Okay. Who should we go ask, then?"

"'nough folks round that we can find someone, 'rhaps e'en get a drink too."

"You're right. Tavernkeepers always know about geography," Atton says, peering about until he locates a tavern and heading inside.

Will follows, its a decent tavern, fair share of troublemakers but nicer quality than what you'd find in Nottingham.

Atton makes a beeline for the tavernkeeper.

"So, where's Hampstead?"

The tavern keeper glares at Atton,

"What's it to ye?"

"... A place I want to go? Y'don't need t'get defensive."

"Aye, aye, just follow the river that way."

He waves his hand helpfully.

"Okay. Oh, and ale for me and the guy with the red hair?"

"Aye."

Will drops some coin down on the counter and nods to the tavern keeper.

When the tavern keeper passes over the ales, Atton downs his in about three seconds, before standing and nodding to Will.

"Okay, let's go. Unless you want me t'meet you here later?"

"If ye'd rather, might be able to learn some things 'bout what's goin' on."

"Okay. If you need me, I'll be in Hampstead, then," Atton says, and speeds off in that direction.

It's not too far, so he arrives in less than a minute, brushing himself down before stepping out of an alleyway and listening out for the sounds of fighting.

There's a tavern right near the Heath with torches outside and a circle of men yelling and fighting.

This may be the place.

Atton hangs back, waiting until there's a lull in the fighting.

As a man falls down in the center with the crack of a possible broken nose and the crowd yells, someone notices Atton,

"Ye goin' to fight next?!"

"Not just yet. Is Much the fisherman around here?"

"Just won."

A man without a shirt is grinning and looking rather bloody and scarred up, apparently it was a rough fight.

Atton peers at him, sizing him up.

"Is he any good?"

"Oh aye, ne'er seen 'im beat 'fore."

Atton thanks the man and heads over to Much, quickly giving him a once over as he walks to get an idea of his build, how strong or fast he might be.

"Hey."

Much is wide and muscled from his days of working as a fisherman and watches Atton approach,

"Ye goin' to fight me?"

"Depends. Will you be around here tomorrow? Don't want t'fight you when you've just come out of the end of a difficult fight, y'won't be at your best."

Much just laughs and everyone else nervously laughs with him,

"Wasna difficult, barely winded."