Post by Acanthus D'Aubigne on Oct 11, 2007 18:29:19 GMT -5
Acanthus had had a bad week.
A very bad week indeed. Much to his dismay, no one, as far as he knew, had taken any action to clean up the Inn in which Acanthus had stopped and... rested. He'd thought that at least a minor officer or something of the sort would show up and die of fright, but nothing! Ridiculous. He'd gone completely out of his way to make it look nice, and now he was getting nothing? Well, it at least proved what rubbish the piece of sod Plutus called a government was just that. How would the unharmed residents of the Inn feel when they woke up, went downstairs, and found the Innkeeper stuffed inside a broom closet? Most likely, they wouldn't be too happy.
But this wasn't Acanthus' problem now. Acanthus had hastily left the Inn and gone to participate in an age old pastime. Consumption of alcoholic beverages. Whenever he was down, Acanthus would hop over to the nearest pub and down at least three glasses of Vodka. Of course, he asked for more after that. This small habit probably wasn't good for his health, but who the hell cared? Acanthus had never planned on dieing a dignified death, anyway. Death by alcohol poisoning was the best he could ask for. But death was not the thing to think about now. He needed to make a new plan. Obviously, he was not the most successful criminal. Yet.
An evil sort of laughter drew attention to him from all corners of the room. Ten or so people looking at him like he was mentally retarded. A curse might accidentally slip off his tongue and hurt one of the poor bastards. It was tempting, but he wasn't stupid enough to try something like that. Everywhere he went, Acanthus acted like a little angel. Actually, it was more like a spawn of the devil. But hey, where was mum to correct him? You can't really scold people from 10 feet down in the ground. Was she dead? He did not know, but deep in his heart, he knew she was waiting for him to come home, be her little boy. Like hell that would happen.
So here he was, Joker's Bar, for yet another drink. Last time, he'd been drunk enough to threaten a man. Danger zone started right there. Threatening people wasn't the best thing to do in the middle of a crowded bar. Yet, crowded was an overstatement. Apart from him, there was just a couple of old men playing Checkers. But now, he wanted to drink, not let his mind wander. It wasn't easy, with that huge brain and everything. Lots of people had left the bar after his fit of evil laughter. Finally deciding to get his thoughts back on the train, he smacked himself. Old men far and wide were spattered with spit. "Er.. sorry mates, here, let me wipe that off for you." he said, walking over to the man with a dishrag, while secretly showing the other old man how to win. A grateful smile was his thanks.
He would get a Vodka. A strong one, mind you. When he was stumbling out, he wanted to be on the verge of consciousness. Not strong minded or something. Sitting quietly, he waited for someone to attend to his table, while at the same time, devising plans for his next tragic failure. The Inn wasn't a tragic failure, no one cared, that's all. What would he do, burn down a small wizarding village? Deep intakes of breath were followed by squeaking floorboards and the shutting of a door.
Acanthus wasn't really a people person.
A very bad week indeed. Much to his dismay, no one, as far as he knew, had taken any action to clean up the Inn in which Acanthus had stopped and... rested. He'd thought that at least a minor officer or something of the sort would show up and die of fright, but nothing! Ridiculous. He'd gone completely out of his way to make it look nice, and now he was getting nothing? Well, it at least proved what rubbish the piece of sod Plutus called a government was just that. How would the unharmed residents of the Inn feel when they woke up, went downstairs, and found the Innkeeper stuffed inside a broom closet? Most likely, they wouldn't be too happy.
But this wasn't Acanthus' problem now. Acanthus had hastily left the Inn and gone to participate in an age old pastime. Consumption of alcoholic beverages. Whenever he was down, Acanthus would hop over to the nearest pub and down at least three glasses of Vodka. Of course, he asked for more after that. This small habit probably wasn't good for his health, but who the hell cared? Acanthus had never planned on dieing a dignified death, anyway. Death by alcohol poisoning was the best he could ask for. But death was not the thing to think about now. He needed to make a new plan. Obviously, he was not the most successful criminal. Yet.
An evil sort of laughter drew attention to him from all corners of the room. Ten or so people looking at him like he was mentally retarded. A curse might accidentally slip off his tongue and hurt one of the poor bastards. It was tempting, but he wasn't stupid enough to try something like that. Everywhere he went, Acanthus acted like a little angel. Actually, it was more like a spawn of the devil. But hey, where was mum to correct him? You can't really scold people from 10 feet down in the ground. Was she dead? He did not know, but deep in his heart, he knew she was waiting for him to come home, be her little boy. Like hell that would happen.
So here he was, Joker's Bar, for yet another drink. Last time, he'd been drunk enough to threaten a man. Danger zone started right there. Threatening people wasn't the best thing to do in the middle of a crowded bar. Yet, crowded was an overstatement. Apart from him, there was just a couple of old men playing Checkers. But now, he wanted to drink, not let his mind wander. It wasn't easy, with that huge brain and everything. Lots of people had left the bar after his fit of evil laughter. Finally deciding to get his thoughts back on the train, he smacked himself. Old men far and wide were spattered with spit. "Er.. sorry mates, here, let me wipe that off for you." he said, walking over to the man with a dishrag, while secretly showing the other old man how to win. A grateful smile was his thanks.
He would get a Vodka. A strong one, mind you. When he was stumbling out, he wanted to be on the verge of consciousness. Not strong minded or something. Sitting quietly, he waited for someone to attend to his table, while at the same time, devising plans for his next tragic failure. The Inn wasn't a tragic failure, no one cared, that's all. What would he do, burn down a small wizarding village? Deep intakes of breath were followed by squeaking floorboards and the shutting of a door.
Acanthus wasn't really a people person.