Post by Deleted on Jan 13, 2013 0:26:31 GMT -8
The creek of the dilapidated wooden door made little impact on the sparse patrons of the hogs head. Ichabod sneered at the smell of dust and vomit that seemed to curl itself around his nose, lifting it higher than normal. Adjusting his suit and folding the long coat over one arm he took a step inside. Eyes glanced his way, but nobody wanted to break the eerie silence aside from a cough or sniff from the less than healthy regulars this time of day. “Barkeep” Ichabod spat and the man behind the counter eyed him for a moment. The dirty towel he was using only seemed to dull the already filthy glass in his other hand.
A slight smile split Ichabod's features as he took a few steps forward, the sound muffled by the dust and old wood floor. “I suggest you get me some fire whiskey before I give you a scar as ugly as that glass.” As he spoke, Ichabod felt for the long, slender wand at his hip. His wand was abnormally long, and it came in handy when he needed to impart some wisdom on those less gifted than himself. Moving to the far side of the room, Ichabod found a seat. Unfolding his long coat he took a small rectangular box from underneath and placed it on the table, barely keeping his eyes off of it. The box was important, and if it fell into the wrong hands it could be less than helpful to his family name or status within the wizarding community.
Ichabod Deltoro Echoes was not the kind of man to let appearances falter. A respected member of society and an expert in magical artifacts and antiques. Normally he wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, but so was fate to drag him into this filthy hovel and he was not happy about it in the slightest. The inn keeper placed a glass on the table and started pouring the fire whiskey. For a moment, Ichabod gave him no mind as the amber liquid filled the glass. Just as the man stood to turn Ichabod changed his mind. “Leave the bottle.” The growl of his words showed the distaste he had in not only the sweaty old inn keeper, but the pub as a whole. Muttering under his breath the inn keeper hobbled off, leaving Ichabod alone. With a sneer to match anyone of his stature he downed the glass in one, waiting.
A slight smile split Ichabod's features as he took a few steps forward, the sound muffled by the dust and old wood floor. “I suggest you get me some fire whiskey before I give you a scar as ugly as that glass.” As he spoke, Ichabod felt for the long, slender wand at his hip. His wand was abnormally long, and it came in handy when he needed to impart some wisdom on those less gifted than himself. Moving to the far side of the room, Ichabod found a seat. Unfolding his long coat he took a small rectangular box from underneath and placed it on the table, barely keeping his eyes off of it. The box was important, and if it fell into the wrong hands it could be less than helpful to his family name or status within the wizarding community.
Ichabod Deltoro Echoes was not the kind of man to let appearances falter. A respected member of society and an expert in magical artifacts and antiques. Normally he wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this, but so was fate to drag him into this filthy hovel and he was not happy about it in the slightest. The inn keeper placed a glass on the table and started pouring the fire whiskey. For a moment, Ichabod gave him no mind as the amber liquid filled the glass. Just as the man stood to turn Ichabod changed his mind. “Leave the bottle.” The growl of his words showed the distaste he had in not only the sweaty old inn keeper, but the pub as a whole. Muttering under his breath the inn keeper hobbled off, leaving Ichabod alone. With a sneer to match anyone of his stature he downed the glass in one, waiting.
