The one known to the Others as Chumtooth enters the long house where drink is made and served.
It is early in the evening, and quiet. He approaches the Other behind the long, high table and speaks.
"Give this one the drink you call, ayy-uhl." Chumtooth growls, as he slaps a silver coin down on the tabletop.
"When the cup is empty, give this one more."
He drives the point of his harpoon into the floorboard beside him.
Cadj enters the house a few minutes later. His close fitting casual clothes, his short hair, the ring to his left ear, everything in him shows the basic sailor.
His body is tanned and fit, his hands calloused. His eyes are hard, and he doesn't smile while he sits at a table, waiting patiently to be served by a waitress.
He looks to the harpoon planted in the floorboard with slight interest, seeming to calculate his worth in his head.
The lyrical sound of a sea shanty can be heard from outside the bar, growing in volume before it's performer can be seen. The elf has an easy smile on his face and his head wrapped in a colorful bandana, to go along with the rest of his attire.
"In Riddleport there lived a maid.
Mark well now what I say!
In Riddleport there lived a maid,
And she was mistress of her trade.
I'll go no more a-ro-o-vin'
With you, fair maid.
A-rovin', a-rovin'. Since roving's been my ru-i-in.
I'll go no more a-ro-o-vin' with you, fair maid."
He taps a nearby table with his hands and spins on the heels of his boots at the end of that verse, gesturing to the barkeep and grabbing a pitcher of ale for himself, pouring it into a mug and quenching his thirst beore continuing to sing another verse.
"I met her walkin' near th' 'Gate
Mark well now what I say!
I met her walkin' near th' 'Gate
An' said "Good day, this mus' be fate!"
But I'll go no more a-ro-o-vin'
With you, fair maid.
A-rovin', a-rovin'. Since roving's been my ru-i-in.
I'll go no more a-ro-o-vin' with you, fair maid."
An elf now.... and a singing one, too.
Cadj doesn't seemed impressed or amused by the singer's talent- or enthousiasm.
He watches the burly man with his harpoon.
Then the elf.
Then something seems at last to amuse him.
He lets a cruel smile briefly show on his lips.
He mumbles to himself.
it may be an interesting evening, after all.
Chumtooth listens to the thorn-eared Other's song, and deciding that it lacks a primal element, attempts to accompany him by drumming his fist on the bar top.
Not finding the rhythm, he nevertheless persists, trying to fit his inconsistent beats to the melody.
He turns his oily black eyes towards the red-haired Other, draws back his lips into a shark-toothed smile, and nods.
"Come! Sing! Drink! Drum! It is a good night for hunting!"
As long as you pay the drinks and i'm not the prey.. why shouldn't i join such a mirthful company?
Cadj rises from his seat and comes close to the bar, careful to let the Elf between him and the man with the hungry shark smile
A young human sailor enters the bar with a care free pace, though a bit wobbly as he still has his sea legs. He looks to the bar maid for a drink then takes a seat at the bar near her path and facing the common room so he can engage in good humored flirting with her as she goes about her routines.
The first you are aware of Chumbeard's presence is a heavy knock repeating outside the bar. The sound is of two peg legs making their way steadily across the wooden porch. A scarred dwarf with fiery red hair enters and makes his way to the bar. His one good eye surveys the room, and his one good hand gestures the barman over with the universal "drinky-drinky" gesture. His other hand terminats in a savage hook.
"Barkeep, two ales. One for me and one for Besmara."
Cadj's cold eyes look up and down (or, more precisely "down and downer") the dwarf and his appendages, thinking
*why am I not surprised he follows Besmara's path? Not a guy you can make fun of...But i guess i could have done better with these pegs and the hook.*
Chumbeard notices Cadj eyeing his prosthetics and smiles, "Aye, they ain't pretty, but they get the job done." He pours the second ale reverently onto the floor before quaffing his own.
"Did the Short, Bearded One's ship land on a Kuru Island? Chumtooth gives much honor to one who has lived after so much flesh has been taken."
He looks around the room and bellows.
"The Short, Bearded One has refused to die! Honor to the warrior's spirit!"
He raises his mug a drinks a toast to the dwarf.
I recognize you have gone through some hard times. At least you had a surgeon to help you.
"Make no mistake, it were the Pirate Queen that saw me back aboard safe." Chumbeard intones gravely.
Humorlessly, he retorts
Believe me, i do my best to avoid mistakes.
A man in the some brown clothes walks in. He has an untamed black beard, and carries with him a saw, and a small healing kit. As he walks in he notices the dwarf who is missing quite a few limbs. He walks over with a small gleam in his eye.
"Hello Sir. I'm have decided to come here for a moment to celebrate the impending return of the Blue Maiden, and I couldn't help but notice you have peg legs, and a hook hand. Would you mind if I examined them?"
As he speaks he looks at all the others in the room.
"Will this one take the Short Bearded One's other hand?" Chumtooth asks, in a tone too flat to interpret as either sarcasm or sincerity.
He watches the newcomer warily from the corner of his eye.
"I hope not! I'm a healer by trade, and taking away limbs should only happen when it is needed. I just wanted to see what other people have done to help out, and see if I can learn anything, or make their work better."
"Wit' eyes like dat you should be in the crow's nest,"Chumbeard growls at the recent arrival.
"Well it is quite obvious, and you aren't going to any great lengths to hide them, but thank you for the compliment anyways Sir....?"
While the bearded ones have a small talk, Cadj glances at the most recent arrival's tools of the trade with an apreciative look.. a saw, an healing kit, and probably other instruments that can be used either to heal or to harm, depending of your whim.
I'm quite sure that if he tries to get the dwarf only good hand, the "Short bearded one" will apply some definitive chirurgy, by removing the "Tall bearded one" head. Besides, a hook in a crotch can do some definitive damage too.
"Why does everybody assume I'm trying to take away his other hand? I'm just asking to look at the quality of the work done before, and see if I could do better."
Stephan sighs.
"Nevermind, I think I'll find someone more willing to celebrate today."
Stephan walks over to Alwen.
"Do you mind if I sit here? With the way people have been acting I don't want to offend you by sitting down without permission."
Those near the door the thump of boots on the stoop just before the doors swing open. A tallish Taldan man, by the look of his gear , appears in the doorway. Ahhh a sailor tavern, well a pirate tavern, poorer drink more honest company well honest in their duplicity it’s the one that hide behind societies civilities that are trying to hide there duplicity. He takes a couple of steps in and survey's the room casually in manner warily if you see his brown eyes. Elf huh, some sort of pointy toothed guy . . . and the worlds unluckiest dwarf. He removes his hat, as if manners require it. Old habits die hard. His hat stowed under his arm he pulls his gloves free and stashes them in his broad sash.
He makes his way to the bar as he closes into an open space he chuckles and makes eye contact with the bar tender, "No no no this can't be right." he begins playfully. "Unsavory sailors, elves, no maids at all, that pungent mix of brine, and vomit . . . " He pauses cheekishly. "This is clearly not the 'House Keepers Guild.' I thought for sure with the name." He sees the bartenders unbemused look and figures not the first time someone made that joke. "No worries keeps I gots shinies if you have drink, something stiff but will last a few sips." He settles the matter of coin with the dwarf and regards the room again.
"Did a boatload of schoolmarms just upend in the harbor?" Chumbeard bellows disgustedly.
Chumtooth watches the newly arrived Other size-up everyone in the room.
"Many words this one speaks have no meaning. What is howzkipperz gilled?"
Already really? Reinald looks toward the dwarf smirking, ”That’s why you’re here right the schoolmarms. Yes there is a whole boat load that turned up. A bunch of uptight middle aged ones too. Any schoolmarm I ever met was hankering for a solid rodgering. You have thrice the wood as any could muster here. No doubt you would prove popular.”
He takes a pull off his drink. Oh boy He looks to the more savage patron. Where do I start. This one needs more than a house keeper. He thinks a moment trying to find something to say. ”Howzkippers Gilled, or Gilled Howzkippers, it’s a type of catfish.” He goes back to his drink and relaxes his posture a little though keeps alert.
"And after you met 'em they was still hankerin' i'd wager." Chumbeard grins at the kuru, "This blowhard is usin' so many 20 gold piece words, i bet he has a bellyfull o' coin. Why not take a look?"
Reinald looks at the bar a moment. ”Bartender. Another round for this brave dwarf and his pointy toothed friend.” He thumps down a few coins on the bar. He turns toward the dwarf and smiles. ”I have heard of the bravery of dwarves. Tonight I would drink to it. No legs, one hand, blind in your good eye by the look of it. Yet you would still brave the hazard with a sailor who wants nothing more than a drink and news of any boats hiring. I say Huzzah to that. “ He lifts his glass in toast and drains what is left of his drink.
"Do ye want me to close the other eye to make it more fair for ye?"
Oliver watches the newcomer and others' banter with amusement.
Welcome! Nice to see a fellow fisherman who spends his days plying the waters for Gilled Howzkippers. How were they biting for you? I brought in enough to buy you a drink. Join me here at the bar. The kind bar maid will be by soon enough. She is much nicer to look at than the rest of this lot.
Stephan looks at Reinald with something approaching respect.
"Hey friend ignore the dwarf he's just sad that you have both of your legs."
"This one is finding more large mouths without teeth here than on the sea."
He momentarily reaches for the shaft of his harpoon, and grasps it for a moment, then let's it go. He turns to the others, bearing his stained, pointed teeth with a wicked sideways grin.
"More fat and soft meat, as well."
Reinald lets the dwarf have the last word. Moves down the bar to enjoy the offered drink. He nods slightly at the admonishment to ignore the dwarf. He greets the man who offered, "Thank you Reinald Malcoms."
"Why am I not suprised those two are bellyin' up?" Chumbeard mutters to himself. "Let 'em braid each other's beards with ribbons and..." the rest is lost in the quaffing of ale.
Oliver stands to great Reinald. Pleased to meet you Reinald. Oliver Tressilian. This is quite a crowd and only seems to be getting more interesting/amusing. Then settles back into his comfortable bar stool.
Stephan looks at Oliver, and can't seem to find a beard on him. He chuckles as he responds to the dwarf.
"Dwarf, it seems like you need to get your eyes checked. I don't see a beard on Oliver."
That's because you're not patient enough. Wait a few days, and i'm sure Oliver may grow a beard too. Or maybe you could cut some of your own beard and sew it on Oliver's face, surge?
"Carve your name on the ever-changing sea with a saber of terror and triumph. Fight for plunder, fame, and glory, and earn your place among the legends of the sea.” recites Chumbeard, tankard lifted to noone in particular.
Stephan smiles at the dwarf's toast. He raises his glass towards the barkeep, and adds a little bit more to it.
"And if you fail to become great then you can always open up a tavern!"
Reinald lifts his glass at the dwarf's toast, "I will definately drink to that." he follows drinking heartily.
He cuts his hearty drink short and chuckles at the follow up comment.
Oliver slowly stands from his bar stool and carefully puts his drink down on the bar. He then solemnly recites
"I fight not for glory or fame,
For they are momentary.
I fight for those who can't.
I fight for Justice."
Then with a smirk: Nah, that is all b*#%$+*!. I fight the loot! You are in the wrong town if you claim otherwise.
He then takes a long drink.
Reinald listens and chuckles. I want treasure as much as the next man . . . but surely there is something worth fighting for . . . somewhere. Looking around at the incredible lack of women in the bar. "Loot and glory will have to do, I was in it for the chics . . . but clearly that must be another tavern."
Chumtooth listens to the Others speak as they raise their cups and drink.
"These things, 'Loot' and 'Glory' are things of great value to Others? What are these things?"
Oliver says to Reinald: "I do stand corrected. A lady is certainly worth fighting for... though fighting is usually unnecessary if you are discrete. I would also fight for my life and my mates too. But from what I have seen in my few years, if glory has any value, it is just that extra glint it puts in the eyes of the maidens.
I understand though that you have seen maybe twice as many years as I, so perhaps you have found more to fight for."
Oliver addresses the common room in general:
"Enough of this serious talk. Who has had a good adventure they can tell us about? I will buy the room a round if it is a good story. It doesn't even need to be true."
Stephan thinks for a moment, and begins to speak.
"Well I know this tale of a mermaid, and a sailor. This isn't your average tale though, the mermaid was actually a witch, and the sailor a cleric of goodness, and purity. When they met on some rocks in the middle of a storm the mermaid saved the man, and brought him back to her lair. She had seen him from afar, and wanted to make him hers.
He wasn't so happy about that idea because she was an evil witch, and so she went about trying to corrupt this cleric. She tried for twelve days, and twelve nights before on the thirteenth day he cracked. He swore that he would commit the evilest act he knew before sunset to prove himself. The mermaid smiled, and gave him a magic rope, dagger, and vial. The vial contained a sleeping potion that no-one could resist. The dagger would kill you with just a nick, or scratch. The rope was enchanted, so that after it had bound someone it would never let go until they were dead. The cleric picked up these tools, and told her he would be back with a proper sacrifice soon.
He left for almost the entire day. The mermaid was starting to get worried when he arrived at the entrance to the cave. He showed her a bottle of fine wine that he had lifted off of his victim, and he wanted to share it with her. She accepted, and took a long drink. When she woke next, she was bound with her own rope on an altar next to another man. She saw that the cleric was standing there with the knife. He smiled at her, and told her that the evilest thing he could imagine would be to kill everything, and everyone.
He killed both the witch, and the man that night before leaving in the morning to keep killing. They say that if you see a lone cleric who asks to share your fire, and offers you wine, then you should kill him before he kills you."
Stephan lets the tale sit for a moment trying to see who liked it, and who didn't.
"And this is why you should be careful with what you wish for."
I wish for another drink. Is that careful enough for ya?Truth is, if a cleric of a good deity want to share my fire, I'd be more than happy to put him into the flames and send his soul to Asmodeus. Yeah, I could definitively drink to that.