<div class="floatleft">(http://www.geekshow.us/wp/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/seanbean_boromir.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Lukas Tarn (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173601.msg8205090#msg8205090)<br/><strong>Nationality:</strong>Aquilonian<br/><strong>Class/Skill Set:</strong>Battlefield Medic<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Leaky Wench<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Any<br/><hr/>Lukas sat at a table my himself, observing the activities around him with a keen eye. He wasn't one to lose his senses to ale or mead with any sort of regularity, though he was known to have a palate favorable towards wine. But this place did not look like the 'wine type' of tavern, so he sat with his half-full mug of watered-down ale in front of him, still nursing the very first drink he had purchased when first arriving at the tavern.<br/><br/>Glancing around him, one might think some great celebration had overtaken the city of Kordava. Men and women alike celebrated as if some great victory had been achieved, some great enemy conquered. In a way, the mood was accurate, for the lives many of these people led were dangerous and some would say even foolhardy. These folk worked hard during the long days, and lived each night with a zest for life that nobles and farmers often could not fathom. There was no telling which of these folk might be celebrating their last nights in this world, and that included those in the crowd whom he called 'comrades'.<br/><br/>Lukas drew his gaze towards the table where Cormac and Goose sat. The big Cimmerian and the young woman were wholeheartedly taking part of the festivities, as far as Lukas could tell. The red-headed woman standing atop Cormac's table was part dancer, part acrobat, but at the moment Cormac had her attention as the two exchanged words. Lukas quickly assessed the woman, Cormac's expression, and he couldn't help but wager with himself that Cormac would indeed succeed in taking that one home with him. Sometimes the barbarian would fail – but in Lukas's experience, it was rare.<br/><br/>Goose, the beautiful dark-haired, fair-skinned woman sitting next to him didn't seem as interested in the dancer on their table, but Lukas had been surprised by the young warrioress before. Goose was as sly as anyone he had ever met, and just as sneaky when she wanted to be. Lukas thought it as likely that the woman might very well be scoping out a pick-pocket target as she was keeping an eye on every exit leading out of the place in the event of some conflict.<br/><br/>Off to the side at a corner table sat Bhalar, puffing on his smoke-weed as he often did when relaxing. Lukas himself would occasionally take to a pipe, but what he smoked was much different in aroma. The Hyrkanian was a fellow archer, something that Lukas had in common with him even though their archery styles were much different. Bhalar seemed to prefer a shorter, more mobile bow that could be fired from horseback, while Lukas himself preferred the longbow for distance and power, a weapon not fit for firing from the bouncing and jostling surface of a horse's back.<br/><br/>The Hyrkanian leaned his head back, a coin rolling dextrously down the length of his knuckles. Lukas pondered moving over to strike up a conversation with the Hyrkanian, but paused a moment. They had all earned this small bit of respite, this night of relaxation. Blood and toil and tears and sweat was the currency they had used in order to obtain such an evening, and Lukas wasn't about to ruin that for any of them. Instead, he leaned back in the chair and waved for the serving girl to come to his table.<br/><br/>“Do you have any wine available? Preferably something a bit older than last year?” he asked, but the serving girl's laugh gave him the answer he sought. She walked quickly away, shaking her head as if Lukas had suddenly sprouted a third eye or a second nose. Oh well, it was certainly worth a try.<br/><br/>It was almost a game to him, attempting to predict what his comrades would say or do in such a setting. A place like this was just as dangerous, perhaps even more so than many battlefields they had tread upon in their time. Where alcohol was involved, anything was possible. Lukas sat and watched his comrades, as usual, almost like a father watching over his children, though he knew if he ever voiced such a thing he'd be rewarded with one or more punches to the face for such silliness. On more than one occasion Lukas had aided one or more of them back to their rooms after exceptionally ambitious nights at whatever tavern they haunted at the time, though oft as naught they likely never remembered it.<br/><br/>Still tending to his comrades, whether on the field of battle – or off of it. Lukas took another sip of his ale, winced at the unrefined taste, and continued his quiet contemplations for the moment.<br/>