Open Chronicles Whiskey is the life of Man

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"Remember laddies, you know where to find me if I'm needed. Stay out of trouble, I would love to not hear from the city's law... On that note if I fall into trouble, I expect you all to pay the jailers and free me!" Gavin yelled to his crew and was rewarded with a roar of laughter. "Spend your riches, drink your whiskey, love a lady, visit your dear old captain, and live!"

Gavin sauntered down the gangway, excited to be back in Arillia and free of responsibilities, even if it were only a short while. Pausing a moment, he turned to admire his beauty. The Rocinante was a twenty-six sail ship of Anirian design, both fast and strong. In truth she was a warship that Gavin had acquired and re-purposed for his own personal gain. Hey sails were all white, aside from the flying jib which was red and the jib which was black. The colors seemed to project an opposing image, especially when the Rocinante gave chase. His gaze shifted up and he smiled up at the flag the flew. A flaming horse against a white field. Comical to some, but it was their flag. The Roci herself was a beautiful ships, under normal circumstances though currently, she had seen better days. Rough sea and battle had worn her down and now she was in need of tender love and care. Upon arriving in the docks, Gavin saw to it that she would under go repairs almost immediately. Though he promised his men down time, being that they last job put them away for eight months, he had a sneaking suspicion they would be back at it soon enough.

"Oy... I see you are back... A month late as it were." Came a voice for the dock below.

With a sigh, Gavin new the moment he shared with his ship was over and he was back to business. Turning, he looked down to the weasel of a man who waited for him. Powering down the rest of gangway, Gavin pushed past the man. He had to constantly remind himself that even though the need to slam his fist into the mans pointed nose was overwhelming, he would not give in.

"Barely onto the docks and I stepped in crap it seems. Warren, how can I help you." Gavin addressed the city official in a casual manner. He knew it would get to the man.

"It's lord and you are late.... More importantly where is the shipment I was expecting?" Warren grumbled.

Gavin slowed to a stop and rubbed at his unshaven face. "I am late true... Because your shipment nearly killed us... Are you aware of the attacks that plagued the Roci?"

"...... I am aware.. Still I-" Warren managed to get out before Gavin caught him off.

"That substance you asked us soooo casually to transport burns hotter then a normal flame and water does not douse it... Are you aware of what would happen if I put that on board my ship and it were to ignite? Should I give you a demonstration perhaps? Your shipment is coming by caravan... It will be here soon. Because of the delay, I will only charge you half of what was quoted... Now... He are my reports... Your suspicion was right, the price of grain in the west will be increasing soon... Also I've included suggested trade routes to be used for the up coming season.. Not much different then last year as the weather patterns are holding up... Please do not take them likely... They will save everyone money at the cost of travel time.. But I know you merchant types love your money..." Gavin pushed a leather bound book into Warren's chest. The government official was angry but did not follow up with anything as Gavin continued on his way.

Gavin though wasn't finished and found himself spinning about only after a few steps. "Oy... And when you lot are serious about becoming a true kingdom with a real standing army, be sure to contact me about forming a proper navy. I do fancy the sound of Admiral Blackfyre."

With that said, Gavin vanished into the thick crowd which swarmed the busy docks of Alliria. He enjoyed the diversity of it's people and the blend of different cultures. Marching with purpose, Gavin soon found himself flinging open the door of a small tavern by the docks and simply announcing his presence by yelling. "Whiskey!"

 

[Salogan]

The smell of salt ran heavy through the port, mixing with the undertones of busy market stands and merchant shacks. Smoke rose from a meat shop with cured cuts hanging from sinew cords beneath the apron, an open fire in the back sat sizzling with metal rods adorned in lengths of venison and lamb. A few shops down, a man lunged with his sleeves rolled up, taking an ax to a row of uncut oak logs. Behind him, a dwarf was pulling iron from his forge with rusted tongs.

Sal sat quietly on the railing of the back deck of a tavern, getting what meat was left off an apple core. Watching the clouds drift by, his gaze shifted to the port and the activity below. It was a particular sort of day, burdened with an unusual amount of traffic through the wharf. There was an abundance of caravels making port, anchoring in for extended stays, and bilanders smacked against the piers after laying dormant for Iasimu knows how long.

Sal had grown accustomed to the cobble pathways and stone corridors of Alliria proper, moving through them like a ghost that had lost his way. Yet, he found himself reminiscing on the quiet times he found stowed away in the belly of a ship. Maybe his duties as boatswain were lax, or maybe it just his nature to find isolation where ever he could. To pray, eat, or sleep, it all seemed important when persistently stuck in the company of others.

But he wasn’t there for cloud gazing or people watching. His gaze was fixed on a particular individual, one who went by Warren but preferred Lord. It was a matter of abuse, crimes distributed under the guise of being a city official. Giving taxes where they weren’t needed, leading households to go under, and being directly responsible for avoidable death. His name came through the guild as a ‘maybe’ and Sal was content to sort him out.

And it seemed someone else wasn’t particularly fond of the man either, based on interaction along the gangway. Tossing the apple core into the bushes of bayberry and sea oats, Sal clapped his hands and proceeded back into the tavern. The place was ripe but in the sense that it should have plucked far before the current date. The tavern was filled to the brim with pirates and merchants, men and women who were looking for a good time and a drink, and it smelled of sweat, piss, and vinegar. Sal wrinkled his nose as he eyed the bartender, who returned a nod.

The man who yelled for whiskey would get his first two fingers for free, on the tab of the Komodo who had just found a seat at a table near the bar.

Gavin Blackfyre

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

It was in Gavin's experience that free was a rarity no matter how charismatic one could be. Everything had a price, it all depended on when and where that price was named. Navigating the sea of patrons that crowded the tavern, Gavin would eventually find his way to the bar itself where his drink awaited him. It was nice to know his order had been heard but it came at no surprise given the fact that several people turned their gaze to him. Being a ship captain, having a voice one could project was a skill unto itself. What was surprising to Gavin was the fact it was free, or rather, already paid for.

Jaw set, Gavin stood there weary for all but a second before opening a tab and ordering one more glass. He then questioned the tender who simply nodded in the direction of the Komodo and Gavin was off, drinks in hand. His trek was short as Sal had not wandered to far off from the bar and before there could be any objection, Gavin used his foot to fish out a seat from the table and claimed his throne.

"Company friend, I come bearing a gift... Though if whiskey isn't to your liking, I'll happily claim it and offer something else... Thanks for this by the way." He raised one glass in acknowledgement to Sal's on generosity while placing the other in front of the Komodo.

There the ship captain sat, warm smile offered up as he painted the picture of quite the aloof fool. His face had the capacity to appear stern and serious but currently, he looked calm and at ease, unsuspecting even. It was time to play his favorite game. What was going unsaid?

 

[Salogan]

Sal had gleefully ripped into a piece of stale of bread, content to enjoy the flavor in spite of the texture. It was a bit sour, still tasted of yeast, and was hard enough that a human might consider throwing it against the wall. To knock out the bugs. But bugs added flavor and there weren't many insects capable of surviving his iron stomach.

Eyeing the glass placed before him, Sal tilted his head and nodded. "I like it well enough." The Komodo uttered in a deep and foreign voice, taking a small sip of the aged whiskey. It wasn't the best but he imagined the best was hard to come by outside of the proper Inner City. Setting the drink down, eyes of amber gold shifted towards a window pane that led to the opened back deck of the tavern. It was fixed with a crossbeam of wood, up and down, and the frame was decorated with grungy moth eaten linen of dirty red.

"The Horse and the Fire, on a bed of clouds..." He said with a chuckle, feeling that the symbol was a bit cliche. But eye catching, nonetheless. "Is she yours?"

He met the Captains gaze, once more, as he proceeded to take out another chunk of stale bread. To his right, a set of leather bound cups sat motionless. No doubt piles of dice rested within them, ready to encourage drinks and games of deception.

Gavin Blackfyre

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

And so the game had begun. With a sly grin he eased into his sit, sipped his whiskey and went over the inquiry asked of him. "Aye that she is. One of three ladies to ever win my love."

Shifting in his seat, he casually looked back to see what the Komodo could see. A perfect view of the ship and it's gangway... And who boarded and disembarked. Oh this was growing rather interesting.Turning back, he casually took another sip, more of a dramatic pause, while he looked over his present company. Foreign, given the accent, strong, seeing how he was ripping into the stale bread. How did he know it was stale? besides the crunch the bread offered, there was that lack of freshness, in terms of scent... but then given the mass of bodies coupled with the drinking and what usually followed heavy drinking, there was a certain perfume that hung in the air.

Moving past the scent of a good time, Gavin refocused on his company. Ashen skin and the horned head marked him as a particular breed of person, the name of the race teasing his tongue yet escaping his mind though. He had seen them before but never had the pleasure of sitting down and breaking bread, pun intended, with one. Sal's large frame marked him as a warrior or a fighter of some nature, for it would be a waste for such stature and strength to go to waste, and Gaivn was quickly forming a picture of who the one before he could possible be. Of course he was operating on a handful of assumptions, and such, he could be completely wrong.

"I know I know... The ship strikes a beautiful image but her captain may appear lacking... No sharp mustache or flamboyant clothing to mark me as a pirate lord... Still, I think I do a decent job at being her captain... We call her the Rocinante." Gavin was more then happy to inform.

If Sal chose to take a closure look at Gavin, he would see that he spoke the truth. His hair was long, shoulder length and unkept. It wasn't bond back or styled in any fashionable way. He didn't sport the clean shaven face of a more traditional or respectable captain either. He also didn't go the more extreme route of a long mustache or forked beard of anything of that nature. He just kept his famed stubble. His clothing was no different, choosing to go practical rather then eye catching. He did wear a Buccaneer coat which was studded with brass buttons, but rather then having it dyed in some eye catching shade, it was plain and black, much like his trousers and knee high boots. It seemed he went out of his way to break away from what was expected and opted to fit in. Of course, he was not on his ship or currently on any particular task, so there was no telling if this was a preferred look or simply him just trying to go unnoticed.

 

[Salogan]

Sal was, indeed, investigating the appearance of the man with a keen eye. It was his attentive nature that made him particularly good at his job, and the life that preceded this one. The way he wore his hair, on top of his head and across his chin, and the way he dressed and carried himself. It felt clumsy enough to indicate a facade, as if it was the intent of this man to appear full of whimsy and misdirection.

Where this man was tall and athletic, Sal stood of similar height with several stones of weight to boot. Sal's nature was a quiet sort, though he carried the clear diseases of his people that marked him with spreading albino-ism. It pushed through every perceivable component of his body, including his hair, lips, hands, and limbs. It was a fortunate thing, for now, that his eyes had not been affected and reflected his true color of burnt gold.

"A gull need not fluff his feathers to prove he can fly." The Komodo responded, never one for appearances. It was for the same reason that he carried himself humbly, clothing of dark and earthen tones envisioned a happy marriage between vendor and boatmen. But beyond that, it was his job to hide in plain sight. For profession and for the needless attention his people often attracted, approaching wild animosity.

"Tell me Captain..." Sal finished off the bread and swallowed a bit of whiskey to soften it. "As a seafaring man, I must assume you play." Sal moved the cups of dice forward. It was a common game among pirates, intent on celebrating the power of deception and guile. Liar's game, though it went by many names. "I can't seem to find anyone that partakes."

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"I may have played once or twice in my time." Gavin said coyly. At sea, boredom could set in and men were fast to entertain themsleves and faster to gamble. He himself had banned the game aboard, as gambling could often lead to arguing, and heated exchange of words could often lead to heated exchanges of fist or worse.

"I take it you are a fan?" Gavin pressed, interested to see where this may lead.

Sal had proved to be entertaining and Gavin had only sat down. The captain was not foolish however to believe that this entertainment did not come with a price. Whiskey in hand, Gavin leanded back into his chair and awaited a response. Would the night lead them to playing a game aside from the obvious. And if so, what was being gambled?

 

[Salogan]

As he looked towards the Captain, Sal contemplated the meaning of being a fan. The dice and the way someone played them, it spoke volumes of their nature and tendencies. The ease of duplicity, the inconvenience of telling the truth, it showed what someone was capable of when pushed to the appropriate limits. It gave clues to the deceit of someone's features, that a kind looking man may lie easily and a haggard sailor may have no talent for it.

The dice were an instrument, like anything else, acting as a lens into the components of a person's being that they would otherwise hide. Especially when things of value found themselves in the betting pool.

"It has uses..." Truth, entertainment, whatever was needed. Golden eyes shifted to the leather bound cup as four digit claws grasped it, shaking and tossing the dice across the table. Three 5's and two 4's. "Ones are wild, progressive betting only. Loser of each round loses a die and the rounds continue until only one player has dice remaining." He tapped a claw on the table, his other hand pulling out a stack of copper coins that were placed neatly in a column.

"Spot-on calls claim a die as reward. We'll keep the betting small, for now." He said with a warm smile, lifting his hand as he ushered one of the attractive maids over. "We'll take a bottle from Fire and Stone, the Aberlour."

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"I suppose I can match your coins... Play a round of a friendly game." Gavin said as relaxed as possible though he believed there were ulterior motives at work. His mind raced with the possibilities of the true stakes at hand but he quickly silenced them. One could get lost in wondering about the what ifs.

Responding in kind, Gavin placed a similar purse upon the table top, holding it high enough so that when it dropped, the unmistakable chink of coins hitting against each other sounded out. Suffice to say despite the tavern itself being rather rowdy given how crowded it was, and with the crowd came noise, the sound was loud enough to garnish some attention.

"Manners, I seem to have left mine at the door... I am Captain Gavin Blackfyre... Pleasure to meet you friend." Gavin finally formally introduced himself, a slow bow of his head added for dramatics.

 

[Salogan]

"It is a paltry offering, for a friendly game." Salogan smiled, revealing the hint of straight and sharp teeth, like chiseled stones resting atop one another. Taking the offered bottle of whiskey from the barkeep, exchanging a nod that would indicate an addition to the tab, Salogan set out two news cups, painted ceramic wrapped in tattered leather.

Slowly uncorking the bottle, he filled up a serving each, giving a nod as the man offered his full name. "I am Salogan. Without title, of course." He had no ships to call his own, no manor to claim, and he was without birthright. Shifting one of the clean cups over, he scooped up a set of the dice and preceded to contemplate rolling.

"Though I imagine you could consider me a Merchant. As a member of the trade...I must admit that I am curious what brought your ship to port." There were many reasons to trade in Alliria. Shaking the cup about, he checked his dice and placed a single copper down. Three 3's in his cup. He'd wager that the Captain would have at least one. "Four 3's."

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

"My new dear friend Salogan, well met." Gavin said with a wide inviting smile. He certainly had a way of seeming like a care free soul. Cup taken, he would shake and slam the ornate cup onto the table top. "Five 3's..." He up the die by 1.

Those around them began to grow tense as the pair played and many took notice. Gavin ignored this however and continued the conversation as if they were not betting. "Sadly nothing of importance or interest. We hauled Elbion wool and some tapestry..."

His nonchalant approach seemed so genuine, and there was no true tell to see if he had been lying about the cargo. That was because he was telling the truth. His ship had in fact carried such things. It was the cargo that his ship never carried that was of importance. The cargo he arranged to travel via wagon that was eye catching. Gavin found that lying best work when weaved with in a measure of truth. It was in keeping balance that it mattered most.

"Have you stock in such wares? I could offer decent prices on shipping.... Mind you I don't plan to set off for some time. I have a courtesan to see and a book to find... And I know what you are thinking and yes I am aware that most up standing gentlemen, much like myself, would deny such relationships with a woman of such a profession but it is purely platonic... The book I seek may very well be erotic though... One never knows what may pop up when researching sea kelp..."

 

[Valencia]

Valencia stepped into the tavern, dusting the hem of her dress as she crossed the threshold. She needed to get away from the nauseating stench of brine and filth out on the street. While the smell from outside was still strong, at least here inside the tavern the smell of smoke, ale, piss and sweat, while just as torrid, was to her more tolerable than the odor outside. She strode towards an empty table and sat down with a heavy sigh. A short rest, then she'd be on her way out of the docks and good riddance.

Why did I even come to Alliria? Should've just gone back home, she thought to herself. She could find no work here; no one took her seriously. She'd approached mercenary captains, merchant lords, fencing schools, adventurers, the city watch; any whose professions called for a skilled sword-arm, and almost without fail the response was to be laughed at and waved away, ignored, asked to leave, or be mocked by feigned interest. Today, she'd come to the harbor to try and appeal to the captains and crews of the ships in port, but had soon abandoned the idea altogether. Even if by some miracle someone here was willing to take her on, the mere prospect of having to come here every day and endure the unbearable stink of the dockyard was enough to put her off.

Her growling stomach soon snapped her away from her thoughts however, and she groaned. She'd not had a filling meal in days now, and while the tantalizing scent of cooked meats wafting from the kitchen of this tavern was agonizingly tempting, she simply could not afford it. There seemed to be an unusual shortage of need for errand girls and odd job workers at the moment, and with rent due tomorrow, she had barely enough left as is. Her landlord was firm on his stance on negotiating rent. It was only fair she supposed -- he kept the rooms clean and the building in good condition, didn't pry into the business of his tenants and, as far as she could tell, kept an honest watch over things that his tenants requested he kept store of; for the price he was charging, she really had no right to complain. Paying the rent would keep her off the streets for the next two weeks, but if she couldn't find work by then ... well, she wasn't desperate enough to steal just yet, but it would mean she'd have to pawn off yet another piece of her gear. The vambraces, she mused, would have to go next. Or maybe I should just sell it all and use the money to buy my way home.

Her shoulders slumping in dejection, she crashed cheek first onto the table, blowing away a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Her gaze swept across the room lazily, studying the establishment and its patrons out of sheer boredom. Something interesting seemed to be happening at one of the tables in her field of view. Two men, a Human and a Komodo, seemed to be engaged in a game of chance. Must be nice to have money to throw away, she thought bitterly to herself. Still, she could not deny that her curiosity was piqued. With how transfixed the spectators around them were, she assumed it must be a rather tense game. For now, she would study the reaction of the crowd and be content to watch the game unfold from afar.

 

[Salogan]

He came back to attention to the sound of a woman smacking against a table...

The tavern had taken on a life beyond Salogan's expectation, like it was breathing rhythmically to a game played between strangers. It wasn't his tendency to draw attention to himself, particularly with the rumors that swelled around his species. For one that seemed to openly carry disease, the people of Alliria conversely seem to not be bothered.

The Komodo clacked his four claws against the ripe wood of the table, thudding hollowly as people spoke and murmured about. It wasn't the riveting nature of the game, the traveler assumed, but more the fact that people enjoyed the act of watching. Liar's dice was as much a game for the players as it was a game for the spectators. To enjoy a bit of tit-for-tat, banter back and forth, and have the opportunity to craft side pools for who would win or who would lose; that made for a enjoyable game on many dimensions.

The pierced eyes of the Komodo perked as he heard some of the boatsmen converse with one another, sure that the Komodo would win on account of the duplicity of his kind. Salogan smirked as his hands stopped rattling against the splintered and treated wood.

"I am not one to judge." He spoke with the tinge of amusement. "When trudging through the market square, mud clings to the gentlemen and scoundrel alike." Taking a sip of his whiskey, he tongued the inside of his bottom lip. "As tempting as good prices would be, I have very little need for wool and tapestry..." Flesh and coins were his commerce, discounts served him no good. "Though I could point you in the direction of a particularly well established bordello, they may provide me a finders fee..."

Looking over his cup, he shook his head. There was no way he could bluff his way to more than five or more in the ascending number. There was a reason this game worked better with a small group. "I must call you, Captain."

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

He squared his jaw staring directly at the Komodo, his one good eye fierce in appearance, his glass eye, unchanging. It gave him an unnerving appearance, to most at least. He lifted the cup and took his first glance at his dice. Three 3's. Cup lifted all the way for all to see, he laughed at his luck, or lack of. Normally, in this game, it would continue with Gavin giving up a die and the pair playing until only one player had dice left. Gavin had other things in mind.

His wager against the Komodo slid over the table top, he leaned back in his chair. "Well played friend... Close on my part, but close doesn't always cut it..." He then picked his head up and shouted for all to hear. "A ROUND FOR ALL ON ME!"

The tavern erupted in cheers at the promise of free drink with many rushing to the bar to claim their prize. "I just paid a nice price for this privacy we now have, so my dearest friend Salogan, Komodo with out title, tell me... When do you intend to claim Warren's life? Is my own life at risk.. And if not... How can I help you?"

A coy smirk was given.Gavin didn't believe him smarter then Salogan, but he was smart enough to piece together a plot... And if this was no plot at all, well then he would help move the narrative to fit a plot that benefit him and Alliria. If Warren's name appeared as a "maybe" Gavin was ready to tip the scale and turn that into a "definite". He was no fool and knew exactly who Warren was. He knew the man and his crimes well and wish to part ways from him but at the same time he could not jeopardize his own position with the Alliria government. Gavin had other connections in the Alliria, some good men... But he didn't want to drag them into dealing with Warren, especially since he lacked evidence and acted on suspicion at this point. Still, his trip back from Elbion convinced him of one truth. Warren needed to be handled, and soon.

Awaiting a response from Sal, he changed a quick look about to see if anyone remained and watched them. He spied a particular beaut who sat at a table with out drink.Glass of whiskey held out to her in cheers, he motioned to the bar. "HELP YOURSELF!" He called out across the wild tavern to her.

 

[Valencia]

She smiled, mouthing a silent 'Cheers' and nodding in appreciation at his generosity, but made no attempt to move. She was more hungry than thirsty but she wasn't about to say no to a free drink. She would, however, wait until the bar was clear before getting her share, as she wasn't keen on the prospect of having ale spilled onto her dress by the stumbling drunkards clamoring at the bar. She shifted her position, crossing her arms on the table and turning her head to rest on her chin, observing the chaos at the bar and waiting patiently for it to subside.

 

[Salogan]

Golden eyes narrowed as he watched the man, paying no mind to the rabble as they moved about to acquire their drinks. On the house, that was a rare thing here on port side unless there was reason for celebration. Perhaps there was, but it was too early to tell. And Salogan wasn't about to allow loose lips to sink this particular ship, not before the sails were open and the island on the horizon was more than just a hopeful wish.

"Close counts for nothing more than disappointment, in my experience..." He stated quietly as he turned the cup over, revealing three more 3's. Between them, the Captain had as many threes as were boasted plus one. The game was over before it had begun because the ruse was evidently transparent to those who were looking.

Finishing off his drink, he leaned forward on the table. Sal contemplated the mans questions and concerns and shook his head. "If your life laid in the balance, we would not be conversing. You would not be alive." He spoke as if it was a fact, which it was. If not Salogan, someone else. The Guild measured and weighed, those with ability completed the execution. But that was a matter for another conversation. "As for Lord Warren...his fate remains uncertain. Should I find that his crimes are worthy of persecution...then his life will be transferred to the Pantheon."

He poured another serving, showing the peculiar resilience of the Komodo digestive system to alcohol. "As all are, inevitably. I just...expedite the proce-"

He stopped as a large brute grabbed him by the collar, pulling him from his seat. The man smelled of alcohol and piss and had less teeth than the Komodo had fingers. He was a big man but a drunkard all the same. "N-nothing g-g-good comes of yer kin'...fercking Komerdo's an' yer di-" He belched loudly. "Diseases. I-I should jus' kill ya right now." He nodded, extracting a knife from his hip as he looked around sleepily. "Best fer erryone I think..."

"Not for me." Salogan replied as he placed his hand on the hilt of the blade, held crosswise at the small of his own back.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

There was only one thing quicker then the change of the mood at his table and that was his hands. In a flash, Gavin held a small blade in hand stood with such a jolt his seat flew back. Lunging forward, long corded arms reached across and much like how the brute grabbed Sal, Gavin now had the man held in place by his collar. Only unlike the man, he made sure to have his blade out and pressed against his throat. Gone was the comical captain, replaced with a fairly serious man with a soured expression.

"You have gone and interrupted my friend and I..." He grumbled.

"Unhan-" The brute spoke in protest, squirming against Gavin's hold until something caught him off.

Gavin was sure to let the drunkard know of the position he was in by pressing his blade against his throat, it's edge just skimming the surface. That was enough to cause a red bead to form and swell before a thin trickle of blood trailed down the mans neck. The brute paused.

"I've killed men for less..." Gavin spoke once more in a grumbled voice. His eye quickly scanned the man over. He was part of a local street gang that worked the docks, offering protection to stall owners. They preyed upon the weak and often thought there numbers would be enough to silence any who stood against them. Their numbers... The thought rattled in his mind as he heard the groan of chairs being pushed aside.

This man was not alone.

"Haste to come to his aid will only guarantee his death lads." Gavin spoke loud enough for all to hear. "You there... beaut with the eyes... You have a blade? I have coin. Come make sure we aren't interrupted again." Gavin addressed Valencia.

He was livid it seemed. The game he had played with Sal, the poking back and forth had come to a head, and he was moments away from pushing Warren from the maybe list. More so, he was angry he had let his guard down to even allow this random act to occur. He knew Sal didn't pose a threat to him, because he spoke the truth. If he had been wanted dead, he would have been. As simple as that. And because he knew Sal wasn't a threat, he lowered his guard and allowed a threat to amble towards them. Behind him he heard the unmistakable sound of blades being unsheathe.

She wasn't in his view and so he wasn't sure if she had taken him up on his offer but at this moment, Gavin behaved as if a army stood beside him. He was unwavering, uncaring, and simply ice cold.

"The Roci... You know her." Gavin growled. The brute gulped and offered the faintest of nods.

"You know I captain a warship... Not a luxury vessel or a merchants barge... But a warship... I make war boy... Be it sea or land... And this Komodo you talk down to... He would have split you from arsehole to mouth had I not stepped in. To me you owe your life. Now we have choices to make... Tell your friends who think they have a chance against me, the Komodo, and the beaut with the eyes, to step away... Unless..." He paused dramatically and there he was, back again with his performance.

"Sal.." He had taken to shortening his name it seemed. "Do we want to do this?"

He released his hold on the brute, turned to the the Komodo, and smiled. His blade hovered at the mans throat, ready to dance should the need rise.

 

[Valencia]

She watched the patrons slowly melting away from the bar, stumbling off alone or with their mates back to their corners. Still too many people for her liking though. She relaxed, idly twirling a lock of hair as she studied them to pass the time. Many had tattoos showing on their exposed limbs, necks and faces. She wondered how many were pirates or gangsters, and how many were simply honest sailors. But before she could lose herself in her musings, her attention shifted towards the strange behavior of the people at the bar. They seemed to have gone quiet, some with worried expressions, others hard ones as they left their places at the bar, striding with purpose back towards the room. The mood had shifted from one of merriment to tenseness in the span of a few moments. Around her, she began to hear the harsh scratching of wood against stone as some began making their way towards the exit.

Great, a brawl, she thought, expression darkening as she made ready to leave. Guess she wouldn't get to have that drink after all. As she was rising from her table however, she heard the voice of the man who had just minutes ago bought this round of drinks address her.

"You there... beaut with the eyes... You have a blade? I have coin. Come make sure we aren't interrupted again."

She paused. So he's the one in trouble, she thought to herself, groaning internally. There was no doubt he could pay well, but did she really want to jump into this? The battleground did not favor her at all; a small, enclosed space with tightly packed bodies and furniture, and opponents that could easily overpower her if they got lucky, not even considering the fact that she did not have a 'weapon' in the traditional sense to fend them off with. Though she was supremely confident in her skills, experience had taught her that numbers and a bit of dumb luck could trip up even the best of dancers, and while the average fighter would have a fair chance in a test of physical strength, her lackluster stature meant that if she tripped, she would be in for a really rough time. So preoccupied was she that she failed hear the man's threats to the others, nor see the men moving to block off the tavern doors, so much so that when she finally made her decision to ignore the stand-off and leave, she realized with a sinking heart that, like it or not, she was now part of this. With a silent curse, she took up her walking stick, the usual scowl on her face contorting into an ugly grimace as she slinked under the glare of her new enemies towards the Komodo and her new employer.

 

[Salogan]

This man's life had not been marked, either by direct tie or affiliation to one marked by the Guild. As such, from the view of the Komodo, that made the ongoing persistence of his life sacrosanct. The transfer from the worldly to the Pantheon was not an exchange that Salogan took lightly, even when cornered in a tavern by overwhelming numbers. Granted, he wouldn't shy away from protecting his own life through less than fatal tactics.

But a principle was a principle, all the same.

"Gentlemen..." Thins lips parted, after watching the exchange between the Captain and the Brute. His direct attention moved to the woman, who wore her begrudgement like a badge. "And lady." His gaze shifted back to the group. "We are at an impasse, it seems. And while it appears that neither party holds intent to back down, I think the barkeep would appreciate it if we simply..." The Komodo shrugged. "Parted ways?"

The men muffled between each other, the various non-involved patrons sat back and nodded from the rims of their tankards, and the Barkeep nodded over his crossed arms. "If yer gonna foight, do it in da fuckin street, eh? But pay up yer tab 'for ya leave!"

"Of course." Salogan replied as he pressed a hand against his belt line. The brute jumped and Salogan shook his head, withdrawing a pouch. Dropping several gold coins into his palm, Salogan proffered them to the figure and waited for the coins to be taken. "Please take these to the barkeep...and keep the extra. Consider it a pledge to our renewed friendship." The brute didn't immediately take it. His friends weren't keen on that.

"Aye take da ferkin coins, Bruce!" "Yaah ya swaddlin miscrete, stop tryin' to pick fights with da gizzard."
"A'right a'right." He finally uttered as he clenched the coins and stepped back. "A'right."

Salogan nodded as he pulled up his hood, realizing that the show of his horns was starting to cause issues. Looking towards the Captain and the one with the stick, he gestured towards the door. "Come."

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

Those keen of eye would notice the tension leave his shoulders as Salogan carefully and with much skill, guided the situation to a peaceful solution. Despite his show of bravado, he was in no hurry to shed blood. On the contrast, given the nature of their conversation, he didn't want to draw attention but he was prepared to over saturate the tavern with such a show so that when people did retell the tale, it wouldn't be of the captain who chatted up the Komodo, but the blood bath that followed.

Heeding the call of the Komodo deft fingers would spin the blade about in his hand and guide it back into his coat sleeve, vanishing from view as quick as it had emerged. Though he had offered to pay for drinks, it look like the tab had been cleared however Gavin was sure to reimburse Salogan. He too was a man of principle as odd as he could seem. Step taken forward, he paused long enough to take up the bottle the tender had given them, judging it would be more then enough for the three of them. Three...

"I owe you pay for coming to our aid..." He looked back to Valencia, his good eye taking stock of the woman who lacking a proper weapon, still stood with them with no more then a walking stick. "... And a meal it would seem."

 

[Valencia]

A wave of relief washed over her as the hostile scenario was expertly disarmed by the eloquent Komodo. She sighed with relief, relaxing as the danger passed. She turned to face the two; now that she was up next to them she had to look up to meet their gaze, nodding in acknowledgement of the duo. Her cheeks flushed and she averted her eyes in embarrassment as she realized her growling tummy had been loud enough to notice.

"Something to eat before we leave would be nice," she replied softly.

 

[Salogan]

"There are vendors in the thoroughfare..." He stated quietly as he looked over his shoulder, eyes of burnt gold taking in a quick view of the small woman. They couldn't stay in the tavern, not with that rowdy group likely to consume more alcohol and misplace even more of their good judgment. It was a simple matter of arithmetic. Too much alcohol, too little of them, and too many people who would likely harm them without batting an eye.

Opening the back door of the tavern, Salogan moved across the porch and down a set of rickety stairs. The hand rail wobbled as he grasped it, expression shifting to the center square and the rows of people meandering through aimlessly. The smell of meat still hung thick in the air, the clip clop of hooves indicated a threat to that smell, more than willing to turn it into horse shit at best and bovine patties at worst. Nothing like something slick to muck up the cobble.

He approached a vendor and handed him four pieces of copper. Pointing with one of his claws, the vendor groaned and stretched over the counter. Pulling out a plump sausage from the twine of taut sinew, he handed it over to the Komodo and smiled. At least, it appeared as a smile - it was difficult to tell with how thick the mans mustache was and how tightly the colorful bandanna rested over his crown, pulling his eyebrows back and giving him a persistent look of surprise. Salogan lifted the sausage to his nose and sniffed before turning to the short woman and handing it over.

"It's deeply smoked, should be fine." He looked back to the Captain. "Tavern further from Port, called the Dredged Lamb..." It was a stupid name. "Have you heard of it?" It was the sort of tavern that had a better disposition towards the uncanny and peculiar. Ale wasn't great, meat pies were mediocre at best, but it was easy to have a conversation.

 

[Gavin Blackfyre]

Gavin was quick to follow, knowing the importance of escaping the tension that filled the tavern. It had been bottled but there was no telling if it could explode out once more. Following in line, Gavin was quick to look back to make sure they had not been followed as they moved on and it would seem, from his body language he wasn't just a ship captain.

"Aye... The more nobler of folk tend to stay away from it... Good choice." Gavin agreed to their new meeting place. He himself had dealings there, as his business brought him across a number of interesting people and not all Man.

Turning back to look at Val, he offered a grin at her and her smoked sausage. "An appetizer... I promise you a full meal filled with bad ale and mediocre meat pies..."

 

[Valencia]

Her eyes lit up and she beamed, grateful for the food. She muttered a soft thanks, reaching out and plucking the sausage from the Komodo's outstretched hand before giving it a good whiff and biting in gingerly. It tasted like beef, or lamb. She couldn't tell over the overpowering flavor of smoke, but it was good and that was all that mattered. All the while she was listening in on their short exchange, and when her new employer turned to address her, she swallowed her mouthful with an audible gulp, pocketing the rest of the sausage before speaking.

"Thank you both," she replied with hesitance as she lifted the hem of her dress and bowed, delivering the best curtsy she could.

"I'm not sure why you'd have singled me out for help out of all the brutes back there, but I do owe you both for the food, and for avoiding the brawl. Now that's tact that you don't see from your kind very often," she said, addressing the Komodo with a measure of respect in her voice.

"Ahem! I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Valencia, and I'm a, ah, 'dance' instructor by trade, as it were. Val, Lenca, Len ... however you want to shorten my name is fine by me. And the two of you are...?"

 

[Salogan]

A compliment and an insult, all in the same breath. While this new comrade was attempting to pay a measure of respect to the merchant, she succeeded in reminding Salogan of why they had to leave the tavern in the first place. Because of his kind.

“We can complete our introductions once we are safe within the confines of the Dredged Lamb…” He stated, somewhere between nonchalance and bristly. The Captain had made his attention known, looking for any form of trail they might have produced in the wake of people amidst the centersquare. A close eye would show that they had; the bustle of people knocked to the side by what he could only assume was the drunken gait of a rambunctious sort.

“Come.” He said quietly as his pace increased, taking a left turn down a narrow length of steps. The stone cute steps bled into an eroded pathway, coated in moisture that was either a result of a recent rain or the grease poured out from a nearby tavern. It had a similar smell as the former establishment, except for a matter of scale and utter lack of ventilation. The pathway was covered with partially concealed by cross sections above; bridges were put in place to connect one brothel to the next.

From those wooden bridges, tapestries hung in the low light and women clung to each other. Scantily clad, sharing breaths between a passed cigar; the stone corridor was saturated with the smell of smoke and incense. And the steps of the trio were not isolated. The men following them had made their presence know and with it, their intention.

“We’re close…” The Komodo uttered as his pace slowed. They could run but it seemed rather pointless, given the fervor of the pursuit. It was best to not bring this sort of trouble to the next tavern. Salogan felt at his belt line and with a single movement of his clawed fingers, his tail swooped out behind him.