A Dog Day Rush
- Location: Black Gull Tavern
- Participants: Psamathe, Peychaud, Nikki, Domos, Vex, Jovan, Artemis, Anba_Hor, Kayoss, Frakklesworth; Ferris (NPC), Reeb (NPC)
- Summary: Seeking respite from the summer heat, a motley group congregates at the pub. Drinks and awkward conversations are had; a furloughed pirate takes a shine to the barkeep; and an old fiend crawls out of the woodwork.
Thus far, it has been a calm afternoon at The Gull. Its present keep, Psamathe, leans against the bar, idly gnawing at her nails, as she awaits the inevitable evening rush. Eyes glance off the door now and again, expectantly.
Between Psamathe's glances, the door sways open to admit one sooty stray cat; Peychaud slinks into the tavern, eyes half-glazed with ardent yearn for sweet escape. The feline finds herself slipping onto a barstool diagonal from the vixen, and she leans heavily into the bar to purr, "A bit of wine, m'lady; I am decidedly... parched on this fine summer's eve."
Not fitting into the usual tavern-going-stereotype, a petite squirrel maide is next to slip through the door. The unobtrusive, sweet type, Nikki follows the cat into the tavern by what can only be a matter of seconds, and plops onto a bar stool two away from Peychaud. "And just an ale fer me, thanks." She's not parched...just bored.
Domos wanders into the tavern, grunting, "Too damn hot, " He mutters, adjusting to the light and blinking as he spots the fox and then the feline, "You, and you, " He makes his seat at the bar, eyeing the squirrel maide and grumbling, "They let any beast in these days I reckon, " Hoping to attract the attention of the tender of the bar, "Ale, " He digs into his pockets, and then distrubtes some coinage onto the bar.
A beat ticks before the vixen can extract herself from the trace. She jolts, batting a tangled lock of hair to one side, then smiles, obliging, at her freshly aligned clients. "Oi, howdy, m'dears!" Straightening her back with an audible pop, Psamathe pivots, headed to collect the requested libations. A tufted ear flicks to the tod's complaint. "Coin's coins, mate; iffn' ye' got a grievance, take it up wi' th' management."
Peychaud's ears swivel at Nikki's words, though it is her nose that brings her gaze onto the squirrel. "Hungry, also," she murmurs out the side of her teeth, to the air occupying the stool opposite the side near the squirrel. Claws tap rhythmically against the wooden top as her drink is procured. "Find a pond and sit in it, if y'r too 'ot, dear," she quips at the tod. "Maybe ye'll smell better."
The suddenly busy tavern is joined by yet another, the already-swinging door being pushed open long enough to allow another visitor through. The second feline's arrival is as quiet as possible, the creaking hinges masking the sound of bare paws padding across the floor. Rather than immediately approaching the busy bar, Vex slips into a chair at a table not far from the entryway, contenting herself to simply observe the tavern-goers for now.
Nikki raises an eyebrow at the fox's sneering remark, smirking lightly as she palms her own payment onto the bar. "Yeah, mate. Us fuff-tails gotta eat too." She gives a cheeky wink before reaching a paw to grasp the ale, sliding it towards her. Alcohol - always a plus when a fellow customer makes an unnerving comment regarding hunger.
Domos doesn't seem at all happy about it, about to go into one of his stories about how in his day they didn't allow that sort of thing! Then the damn cat makes noises at him and he's distracted, "Yeah yeah, same to you catty, " He grunts, "Just give me that damn ale if ya would dear." Meanwhile he turns to watch another feline enter the fray, and then turns back towards the squirrel, "Well don't come crying to me if I ate your grandmother or what not!"
Psamathe, rising to her toes, swoops a duo of mugs from a shelf high overhead. They clink in her habituated grasp, as the free hand moseys for a stemmed goblet. The steins are filled at a cask and slid to the respective patrons, before the vixen turns to ogle a selection of decanters. "Wine wine wine," she mumbles to herself, inspecting the bottles. "Ah." After a leisure moment of contemplation, the keep selects one, and turns for Peychaud. "Ye'll like this one, m'sweet." She begins to fill the flute.
The doors to the Tavern are thrown open and in strides Jovan, walking with his usual swagger as he pushes his floppy pirate hat a bit higher upon his head. He is dressed in his usual rag tag garb of boots, buckles and his scimitar at his hip. Reaching out to snag an ale from the tender, he tips it back to take a quick guzzle, then lets out a light hiccup afterwards, followed by an 'errrrp.' With a slight noise in his throat, he ambles through the room, flopping down next to Peychaud with a wily grin on his face. "Ow yah' doin' matey?" He drawls to her.
"Lovely," chirrs the cat of the wine, paw tentatively skulking at its foot. Drawing the chalice to her nose, Peychaud savors the Bacchanalian syrup with wanton delight, swirling the liquid as she whiffs. A noisy dram is sucked through her teeth, and she squishes the wine to and fro before swallowing. "Perfect, m'love," she says to the feminal fox. A familiar voice rattles her enjoyment, however. "... how's it look?" she scowls at Jovan.
Artemis has been staying here for what seems an era now, yet has seldom made it downstairs to drink in public. For whatever reason, today finds her descending the stairs with a whistle on her lips. It dies off at the sight of a little crowd to the venue, but is capped with a shrug and an ambling stroll toward the bar.
"S'one o' mah personal fav'rits," the vixen proudly quips, winking. With a nonchalant sweep of her hand, Psamathe fetches the various monies from the counter, and turns to deposit the humble bounty in a box behind the bar. She gives the receptacle an affectionate thump, then nudges it out of site. "Oi, a dip inna' pond ain't sound 'alf bad righ' now," the vixen belatedly remarks, bringing the back of a paw to her brow. "This heat ain't no joke." Indeed, as bodies pile in, the muggy ambiance of the tavern swiftly thickens.
"I'd give you full pardon. my grandmother was not a pleasant woman." Nikki replies, half-raising her glass to him and going for another sip - but the sight of the tavern's newest, swaggering occupant leave her choking with laughter on her next swallow. Oh, dear. Composing herself, the squirrel looks back to the barmaid - from Nikki's perspective the only one in the room not planning to grind her bones to make her bread or something of that fashion - and nods. "Ey, and it can only get hotter from here."
Grinning broadly at the scowl, Jovan can't help but twitch his ears beneath his floppy hat. "Finally tracked yah' down. Boat is 'bout fixed up. Yah' coming back out ta' sea?" He asks as he plops his hat off his head to reveal his white ears, followed by a thunk of his elbow as he leans into the table. His nose gives a bit of a twitch at her wine. "By tha' way, yah' looking as foine as evah ah' say."
Vex's pale feline eyes sweep over the gathering crowd as she takes it all in, drawing little attention to herself as she quietly watches from the corner table. She does find the mix of predator and prey a little odd, but she's hardly outspoken about it -- though the interactions between the pirate mouse and calico cat at the bar do solicit a curious quirk from her brow. All the sounds of drinks being ordered and glasses being clinked together are making her a bit thirsty, though she refrains from leaving her seat just yet.
"Cats aren't meant t'be in water," Peychaud informs Jovan while sliding her wine to the edge of the bar. Several coins manifest to be flipped onto the counter, and the cat palms them toward Psamathe. She pins the foot of her goblet between thumb and forefinger, and tilts it for a wee sip. "Things 'ave changed, my... dearest Captain; y'best be on y'r way, if this is all ye came here for."
As the marten approaches the bar, the vixen offers a gregarious wag of her paw. "Oi, afternoon, m'lady," is her salute, smiling unto the familiar creature. She promptly fetches a beverage for Artemis, but speaks over a shoulder to the squirrel, "Aye, love, ye'r damned right abou' that. Gets me t'wishin' I weres a lizard or somethin', yaknow? They adore this balmy bleedin' heat." One corner of her mouth twists downward. "So what brings a fetchin' 'fluff-tail' like yerself t'a dive like this?" Psamathe questions, all though the inquiry is clearly innocuous. A glance is cast to the aloof feline in the corner, but she wrests it away, turning her attention, instead, to the nearer patrons.
"Well, ah' also came for tha' company ah' course." Jovan says with a wry grin upon his face as he tips the brim of his glass up to his lips once more, taking a swallow of ale. "Sides, dis is mah' ole stomping grounds." He eases his chair back, allowing it to rock upon it's back legs a bit. "But, yah'know, yah' always got a place on tha' Barnacle if yah' ever miss us any." He says with an amused look upon his face for a moment.
Artemis was about to raise a paw to attempt to catch Psamathe's attention, but is pleasantly surprised as she's not only noted, but served the usual almost without her uttering a word. "Aft'noon 'keep." She grins, then settles her behind into a stool, ears twitching. "'S certainly a warm one." She chimes into someone else's conversation, before sipping her beverage.
When the bartending vixen sends a brief glance her way, the lilac-point feline decides that's her cue. Rising from her seat, Vex softly pads up to an open space a little further down along the busy bar, dipping her fingertips into the little cloth bag at her side to pull out a few coins. Catching the vixen's attention when she has a spare moment between tending to the other customers, she then curiously inquires of her: "Have you any cider, miss?"
Peychaud's lip curls into a smirk as she eyes the self-assured mouse. "I appreciate the offer, though I must be on me way," is her cool reply as she slips from her seat, finishing the rest of her drink in one chug. "Be seein' ye soon," she says to Psamathe, tipping her hat.
Nikki shrugs, the corners ofher mouth twitching upward. "Am empty stomach and an equally empty rucksack." She answers simply. "I dunno my way around, or I woulda grabbed a bar that came equipped with less beasts eyein me like an horderve." She grins. "But whats life without a little risk? I'm enjoyin' myself, at least." She takes another sip of ale. "And the alcohols good - tha's all that matters." Her ears twist around as Vex makes her way to the bar, noting someone she had no idea was there a moment before. She's an observant one, she is.
Psamathe grips the edge of the bar, bobbing restively against somewhat bent arms. "Ah'm glad I dwell inna' basement. Can't 'magine the digs up there's too restful righ' now," she says to Artemis, before the cat tugs her focus away. "Cider? Lemme' think." An ear swivels to the side, as eyes roll up to the right, probing her mind. Then the fox relinquishes her hold on the counter, flicking her middle digit and thumb in a boisterous snap. "Oh! Aye, we gottit'." She dips behind the bar, briefly out of sight, to root among the trove of hooch below, but hollers from the chasm, "Don' let the rough-rumps get t'ya', mah tree-dwellin' damsel. Ole' Ferris won't stand fer no bigotry."
Vex prefers not to be noticed unless she wants to be, so that works well for her. As the other cat slips back out once more, and the fox steps away to retrieve her requested beverage, she takes a moment to scan the remaining tavern-goers. Aside from a quietly brooding todd, she finds herself surrounded by woodland creatures. This fact amuses her more than anything else, though she hardly shows more than the slightest of smirks at the thought. She patiently waits for the tender to return with her drink, idly tapping her clawed fingertips against the bartop.
"Eh. We've stayed in worse." Artemis accompanies the words with a shrug watching the vixen descend a way. She notes the felines, both coming and going with a little interest before moving on to have a subtle glance at the others; the fox and the squirrel. The latter's a little more interesting- climber, like herself, after all. Sometimes food. But there's more to the watchful eye than the usual predator/prey or tree-fellow recognition. The marten jill seems almost wary.
Psamathe surfaces shortly, hefting a clay jug with a grunt; the impact of the vessel rattles the timber counter and the beverages upon it. Delighted, the fox chimes, "Had this'n fer a bit now--don't get a lotta' requests fer i'," and then stoops to puff a mantle of dust from the pitcher. She half-rotates the thing, coaxing a tacky cobweb from its handle, which, in turn, gums up her hand. "If ye' can't tell," she mutters, swiping the paw against her clothing, and heads for the mug rack. "Bet it's right might potent by now, though."
Vex can't help but smirk at the dusty, cobwebbed jug that the vixen has managed to lug out onto the bartop, nodding in response to her words. "Sounds like it'll do just fine to me, then. Will this be enough for a glass?" she asks, placing a couple of coins on the bar and sliding them in the tender's direction.
"I know bigotry can't touch me, I'm payin." Nikki replies to Psamathe casually, finishing off her ale; tipping it to coax the reluctant drops that cling to the bottom, despite gravity and a thirsty squirrel. She reaches into her pocket, clinking her mug back onto the counter, and pinching another round of coins from its depths. "Another ale then, when you got the time." She asks politely of the vixen, and eyeing the dusty, musty jug with an amused expression. Must not be too common a choice.
After speaking with Peychaud and wishing her well on her way, Jovan has been dumping one ale after the other down his throat to build up a nice buzz in the back of his head. Now, this is the life. No rowdy pirates to yell at, no coppers chasing him down for that job he pulled at the Duke's party. Surrounded by like minded vermin? Well. Two out of three ain't bad. As he raises his fourth ale to his lips, he glances about with a narrow eyed expression, quietly humming an old pirates tune on the tip of his lips.
The old tod looks up from his drink, which he'd mostly been staring into and minding his own business. Listening to the other patrons, and eyeing the mouse with disgust. Grunting and grumbling earlier when the squirrel lifted her glass to him. Bad enough that the food is ruining the relaxing evening, but he tolerates it at least until the squirrel speaks again, "Another for me too, " His drink drained and he turns to grin at the squirrel.
On her toes again, Psamathe cajoles not one, but an armful, of steins from the shelf. Pivoting to face the guests, the beaming vixen plonks the cups on the counter, thumbing away water spots from their grimy exteriors. She cocks her head to the side, thoughtful, as eyes scan the line of beasts. "How's about a round onna' house, fellas?" she peals, hands moving to the jug. She steadily pries the cork from his mouth; the thing pops out noisly, tumbling over her wrist, to the bar, and then to the floor. It rolls from sight. "Oopsie. 'Spose we gotta finish 'er now." And with that, the vixen is fills each mug to its rim with the decadent golden brew, and distributes them--and one for herself, of course.
Vex slides the coins back her way and pockets them again, musing as she does so: "Well, I certainly can't say no to that." When the glass of cider gets pushed her way, she offers the vixen a beaming smile. "Thank ya kindly, miss." The cat holds her mug up in a toast to the lovely bartender, before taking a long, refreshing gulp of the well-aged beverage.
In any other situation, a grin would be a welcome sight. But from the aged fox it just gives Nikki the heebie-jeebies; not that she'd show it. She just returns an even smile, ears twitching - but, whaaat? Free drinks? Who cares if she is viewed as an entre? Certainly not she. Free drinks m ake the world go round. "And m'am you just made my night!" The squirrel grins, forgetting ale and reaching for the offered drink. She shoots a glance along to the pirate mouse - but quickly looks away, using the glass to hide her snigger. He looks like a dibbun playing dress up. Ah, stereotypes... She looks to Domos once more and flashes a toothy grin. "See? Free drinks. Its a bonding experience. No one has to eat anyone - or we can keep it to malicious threats, at least. Cheers!"
What was that? Free drinks! Well now, that wakes Jovan up a bit more as he pushes up to his feet. His boots clunk heavily on the floorboards as he ambles towards the bar with his empty mug, allowing it to sway carelessly at his hip in a back and forth rocking. As he eases himself onto a stool, he pushes his hat upwards upon his head a bit, giving Psamathe a rather wide grin upon his snout. "Yah' said tha' magic words lovely." He drawls to her as he nudges his mug towards her with a tap of his finger. Slide. Scoot. Slide.
"Ooh! Y'r doin' this sort of thing now?" Artemis' face lights up, a pleased grin from cheek to cheek. Rather than forgetting her previous beverage, she downs it before reaching for the new drink. Her interest in the squirrel dulls considerably with the power of alcohol.
Psamathe, parched smile splitting her face from ear to ear, lifts her mug to meet that of the cat. "Nothin' of it. Jus' a lick o' customer appreciatin'," she says through a chortle, chinking the steins. "T'the dog days of summer, eh?" And then her cup travels to contact the others', one by one, crested ears dopily splayed. When the buccaneer rodent joins them, she obliges him with a generous slosh from the clay flagon; cider splashes into the mug, burbling over its rim in a sticky imbroglio. "Erp! Ye' gotta' lick that up, though, mate."
Alcohol has a tendency to dull one's intrests - as well as common sense and judgement, but Nikki is careful about slipping off before the important things are impaired. Still, she has never been one to say no to free drinks. Cheerily, she raises her glass to meet that of the vixen, though she doesn't push her luck to expect the same from the other patrons, thus the glass is quick to find its way to her muzzle. "We're doin' ya a favor. I mean, this lovely jug was just taking up space. Gettin' all dusty and...delicious." She comments airily.
Domos is half turned towards Nikki grinning as he hears the words the light up the faces of many a thirsty patron. The tod is similarly pleased and shows it with a smile as he turns towards the vixen, "Bless ya lass, is the best news I've heard all day!" At the squirrel he grunts and turns to face her as she's again chittering at him. Ain't natural, food talking back at'cha, "I guess I can see past our differences in the interest of booze, " He turns to eye the mouse, "Him, can't say I know what to think of though. Am'right?"
Propping his chin up in the palm of his hand, Jovan gives her a waggle of his brows as he says to her in a smooth voice. "Not tha' best way to utilize tha' talents of mah' tongue, but for you.." He says with a wink on his face, dipping down to roll his tongue to dab up a splatter of cider on the tabletop with a flick. Chuckling, he brings the mug up to his mouth and guzzles it back with a tip of his head. Well now, that definitely hits the spot, nice and hard. Lashing his tail back and forth behind him, he plops it back on the table with a loud clunk. "'Bout as delicious as yah' look." He says to the vixen with a crooked smile.
Vex chuckles at the toast. "The dogs can have their days; us cats prefer the nights, anyway." She takes another hearty swig from her glass, licking her lips clean of the sweet liquid afterwards. Nothing like alcohol to bring a room together. Even so, she can't help but stifle a snicker at the mouse's bold words...though she can certainly see the allure in the vixen's rather unique appearance herself.
"Aye. A less lump o' junk t'clean," the keep briskly agrees, raising her mug a notch to Nikki. She then imbibes, bringing its lip to her snout, which opens to invite a magnanimous mouthful of cider. Over the stein, Psamathe watches the brief exchange among Domos and the squirrel, and takes respite from her gulps. "An' true that, cousin. Th' one thing that all level 'eaded beasts kin agree on, eh?" When Jovan nabs her attention, the vixen casually places the mug on the counter, and offers him a noncommittal smile. "M'word, hon. Such flattery. Ye'r linin' yerself up fer a few more free ones wi' words like that."
"We're not that different, you and I. We both like a drink. Isn't that all that matters?" Nikki fashes a wink at the tod before following his gaze to the mouse. "And now we see the clear example of the more painful effects of booze. But I have to agree with you on that one...now I'm all for defyin' stereotypes but...not playin' dress up." With a chuckle she shrugs to Psamathe. "I think you could do better."
There is a wild look of amusement upon Jovan's face as Nikki makes her comment. "Ah' think tha' maybe the fluff tail be a mite jealous, yah'think?" He says as he leans more into the palm of his hand, twirling his free hand's finger along the top of his empty mug. "Maybe ah' should be sending these brown eyes over in her direction, yah? Too bad yah've already caught 'em. Dress up indeed. Ah'm Cap'n Jovan Blackford of the fiercest ship in tha' sea, tha' Black Barnacle, atcha service." He says as he extends a paw in Psa's direction. "Ah' can assure yah', tha' hat is authentic." Wink.
Psamathe drops against an arm, bent upon the bar top. "Sadly, pickins' is a bit slim lately," she tells Nikki, but her lilac gaze is pinned to the piratical mouse. "I do 'ave to admit, that cap is a bit much." Hand prowling to her mug, the vixen takes hold, wiping idly at its contoured surface. She watches as Jovan extends his salty paw, scrutinizing it for a minute, before she brings her unoccupied mitt to grip it. "Well met, Cap'n. Black Barnacle? Ye' must feel righ' at home 'ere inna' Black Guller. Perhaps we're bona fide soul mates, eh? We share an affinity fer a color, fer one."
Domos seems to considers the squirrels words, "Maybe, inside this tavern at least, " He grins, turning to watch the mouse again, "Ain't so sure that's the booze, unless he's always having one too many, " He chuckles and then starts to fill the tavern with laughter as the mouse speaks.
Artemis tips back her free cider now, then glances toward the stairs. She places a few coins on the bar. "Coverin' a bit more o' the room rent... and there's the drink coin." She smiles and tips her head toward the stairs before heading that way. "Gonna see if I c'n wake 'er up and head out f'r the eve'."
Aha! She got him to laugh. In her mind, that leaves her in the clear. At least Nikki feels Domos will be less likely to attack her as soon as she leaves. They can bond over the ridiculousness of the pirate. "I see...jus' one question though 'matey'...if you're a feared, vicious sea-farin pirate...where's the sea? An' yer boat for that matter. Piracy loses its flash the further inland you get." She winks, finishing off her cider. "That was lovely. Thanks for the drink, ma'm. Though I can see you're otherwise occupied!"
"What kinda pirate would ah' be without a proper pirate hat, aye?" Jovan says with a laugh as he plucks his hat off his head, reaching across the bar to plop it on the vixen's, giving her a bold look upon his face. "Fits yah' better anyways ah' think, lass." To Nikki, he squints his eyes at her and says with a hint of a smile upon his face. "Ship is sitting in port right now, being taken care of by mah' first mate, Kaista. We 'ad a lil bit of a fire of sorts, stupid bloke fell asleep with a candle in his lap. Burnt a lot more than the bottom of me boat I tell ya'wot." He drawls out. "So, few more days it'll be sea worthy again, for now, ah'm just enjoying tha' lay of tha' land, taking in the sights." Another wink to Psa'. "Taking a few jobs tha's come mah way." He props his chin up again, giving the squirrel a pointed look. "Believe me darlin', ah'm quite fearful when ah' want ta' be. For now, ah'm surrounded by you fine and beautiful ladies, no need for me ta' whip mah' sword out and yell Arrrr for tha' moment. Night is still young though."
Psamathe gathers the Artemis' payment and bids the marten a short farewell. The coins are brought close, but not yet stashed, as the vixen nonchalantly uses them to erect a parlous tower. Skimming her finger along the edge of the stack, Psamathe props her chin in the opposite palm, eyes roving to the others. "It ain't done yet, m'dear," the keep instructs, tipping her chin to the jug, which remains partially laden with brew. "Fer th' love of th' glorious and warty gods, please 'ave another cup; 'elp yerself." She is too distracted by the convivial captain to pour it. "We'll 'ave no swordplay inna' common room, hon, but iffn' ye' 'ave the urge, ye' kin step out back." Her eyes roll to the rafters above. "Or rent a quarters fer th' nice. They're quite posh."
"Whatever you say, matey." Nikki smiles, laughing silently to herself with a shake of the head. "Well, time for me to head off as well. Before I wind up feedin' some bloke." She dips her head politely to Domos at these words. "Pleasure meeting everyone - for my health's sake I'm sure it'll be the only time we do for a few of us." The squirrel rolls a tip onto the counter, gathers her bag and smallish sword from the ground and heads out the door.
Domos grins toothily, gives a slight wave to the squirrel.
Domos, grabbing his drink, decides to relocate and plops down next to the mouse, "Uh huh, ya a fierce pirate are ya?" He snickers.
Chuckling to himself, Jovan leans back a bit to watch Nikki leave, his eyes widening some. "Hrrr.. " He rumbles to himself with a wry grin upon his face. "Anyways.. " He leans back once more so that he can once more pour on the charm to the vixen bar tender. That is, until he is interrupted by Domos. With his ears twitching slightly, he eases himself a bit in a shift as he sizes him up for a moment. "Aye." He says as his voice trails off a bit. "Tha' ah'am."
As the squirrel takes leave, Psamathe abruptly recollects why she is paid to be at the tavern, and reluctantly rises to perform her prestigious job. The vixen cups the coin minaret with a hand, sliding it to the edge of the counter and into her other, pining palm. After dropping them off in the carved box, the keep returns with a rad, and buffs idly at the bar, which is somewhat scummy with mug-rings and fingerprints and elbow dirt. The abandoned chalices are gathered and, without a scrap of ado, plunked into a wash basin. "Ye' ever get sick out there, mate?" she asks Jovan, while haphazardly scrubbing glassware. "I'd be all hurls iffn' I weres rockin' on a boat all day."
Vex has fallen silent once more as she enjoys her specially-requested drink, merely listening to the others, and soon she's the next to announce her departure. Finishing off her glass, she repeats her earlier action, sliding a couple of coins across to the vixen as a tip for her service, before rising from her chosen stool. "Thanks for the drink, miss. Evenin', all." With that, she slinks back out into the darkening night.
Domos gets another chuckle as Jovan professes to be a mighty pirate, "If you say so chump, and ya maybe shouldn't distract the lady from her work I don't think." Vex moves to leave, he gives her a wave and raises his mug before sipping more and turning back to the mouse again, "Been in many a sword fight eh, screaming arrgh and what not?"
"Aye, that ah've." Jovan says as he leans back a bit to watch Domos once more. "Many ah' sword fight. Probably tha' most prolific was when mah' oh' buddy Skarting and ah' infiltrated tha' slaver Blackfur ah' season or so ago. She weaseled her way inta' becoming his second in command since tha' bloke was not tha' brightest, while I posed as one of his slaves. Tween' tha' two of us, we practically freed tha' entire mountain, including tha' Abbey's supposed champion Flicktail, and killed nearly half of his guards tween' tha' two of us till' tha bloody Long Patrol showed up tha' claim the glory." He chuckles, patting himself on the chest. "Oh, we got tha' last laugh though. Tha' two of us made our way out with Blackfur's riches right undah his nose. Plenty ah' gold and silvah ta' go 'bout."
In light of her tip, copious well-wishes are sent with the exiting feline, as Psamathe vacates the dish station to seize her prize. She rests a hip against the bar, plinking the coins from one palm to the other and back. Nose wrinkled at the tod, molten laughter surges from the vixen's throat. "I don' doubt that bit fer a shake of a mole tail," she contends, regarding Domos' dubiety of Jovan's tale, lilac gaze flitting to the flamboyant seafarer. "Jus lookit' im." The keep stows Vex's gratuity in a pouch at her waistband. "Oh, aye, Cap'n. I 'eard 'bout that Rose fiasco. We 'ad a few travelers from th' road yakkin' 'bout it. S'been a rowdy couple a' seasons fer th' Abbers. First th' fox fellows an' their siege-ish thing, then th' string o' abductions an' whatnot." There is a doll toss of her head. "Ye' think those chaps'd jus' a' packed up an' left by now. Their fort's far from impenetrable."
"Uh huh, I believe ya. Ya the biggest baddest pirate, taking on all matter of beasts, got'cha, " Domos chuckles, shakes his head.
"Ah' never said ah was tha' biggest or tha' baddest, me heartie. Jus' that ah've 'ad my share of trading swords and adventures." Jovan says with a grin on his face as he plucks his hand into his jacket, shifting about from left to right until he finally finds his coin purse. Pulling out a golden coin, he twirls it about his fingers, then flips it over towards the Vixen as it rolls along the counter towards her. "Aye, tha' Abbey can't seem ta' do anything right. Got no guards, got no weapons. A ll 'bout peace and love and all that crap." He drawls as he takes his mug again to peek into it. "Ah'd rob 'em blind if ah' was bored nuff. Their champ, a fox like yah'selves, can't seem ta' hang on ta' his sword for he's lost it a dozen time ta' the evil tha' lurks. Should jus' build ah' wall up."
Psamathe snatches the coin like a frog laps up a fly. Her fist lingers for a beat, as if the doubloon might attempt escape, before the vixen tentatively uncurls it for a peak. "Ooh, thank ye' kindly, Cap'n." She clenches it with two fingers, and taps the thing against her temple. "S'the real deal right 'ere." The money is sent the way of its awarded ilk, tucked prudently in her belt pouch. "Er, aye. Flackrail 'r somethin', right? Some sorta' rebirthed ne'er-do-well, right?" A bare shoulder lifts to her cheek, an immoderate shrug. "I says ah well, mate. Iffn' they want t'worship blankets and 'old each others' hands and allat', it ain't no flesh off my nose." She pauses, permitting a grin requisite time to cleave her features. "Rob 'em? They ain't got nothin', Cap'n. Unless ye'r an afcionado o' cakes .. an' frumpy garments." Her purplish gaze scans Jovan's getup. "Which don't seem like yer thing."
"Yah' welcome, beautiful." Jovan says with a sly grin passed back to her as his amber eyes playfully waggle once more in her direction. Sliding his empty mug along the table, it seems that he is done drinking for the day. His grin hooks upwards upon his face, looking amused. "So, yah' said something 'bout getting a room?" He says as he glances upwards towards the rafters for a moment, before daringly looking back to her. "Care ta' show me tha' grand tour?" Oh my, is his brows lifting upwards?
"Oh, Cap'n," the vixen trills, as her eyes coast coyly upward. Completing the revolution, they fix on the cheeky corsair. "Ye'r tellin' me ye've spent a life navigatin' the mightiest of oceans in yer lil' plunderous craft, an' yet ye' can't chart yer own course up a dark flight o' stairs an' past a brightly painted door?" Both palms flatten on the counter, fingers tapping out a single drum roll, before Psamathe continues: "If ye' insist .." She cranes to peek over Jovan's shoulder. "Ferris'll be more than willin' t' show ye'."
Heavy boots. A figure appears in the doorway, nonchalantly staring across the main hall, before stepping inside. He leaves a wide-brimmed hat with the server, scratching a paw through his gray whiskers. The fox is black with marked graying. The only things off about him appear to be his height - significantly taller than an average middle-aged fox, nothing to say of an older one. This, and the fact that his pupils don't move. They have a slight bobbing motion when he starts to walk, but then he sits, and they go still - transfixed on Psamathe. [Anba_Hor]
"Oh, ah'm sure he would be, but he isn't as easy on the tha' eyes are you my sea flower." Jovan says as he leans forward a bit more on the bar, giving her a rather broad grin upon his face. Lashing his tail back and forth behind him in a coy manner, he reaches over to unpluck the hat he put upon her head, once more stuffing his ears under it. When the older fox makes his way into the room, he cuts his eyes over towards him for a moment, before looking back to her. "Or.." He trails off. "Yah' could join me aftha' yah' shift is over?" He asks with a tilt of his head, tracing a finger along the table top.
In the glimpse at the lounging lupine, Psamathe is struck by the peculiar arrival; she dallies on it, vague recognition throbbing in her skull, before Jovan's removal of the cap draws her back to the present. "Oof," she whines, a lethargic paw pursuing the pilfered article. The chase is quickly abandoned, and the vixen's hand moves for her nigh-forgotten cider drink, as eyes slip, once more, to the strange figure. "Perhaps," she mumbles, clearly distracted, craning to see past the pirate.
Domos rolls his eyes and watches the mouse continue to try and romance the vixen. He huffs, shakes his head and down his drink, "How about some more miss, " Coins thrown on teh bar, and he smirks at her, "Sure ya enjoying the attention of the oh great captain eh?"
Well. Someone's been out of town for forever and a day. Kay Leah steps inside the Black Gull without much of a show, letting the door slide shut quietly behind her as she eyes the room for an empty seat. The ratmaid heads toward the bar, ignoring most of the patrons as she just pauses off to the side and gestures toward the vixen bartender. "Mead, if you please, Miss," she states in a rather soft-spoken tone. [Kayoss]
"Only perhaps? How can I get ah' yes outta yah'?" Jovan asks as he tugs on the brim of his floppy hat a bit, before taking it off once more and handing it back to her. "Ere', you can always bring that back to me later, yah'?" He says with a mirthful look upon his face as his tail once more flicks about. As she is distracted, he glances over his shoulder towards Hor, then back to her. "Yah'know tha' bloke?"
Psamathe, without severing her stare on the hulking fox, brings a hand to the proffered coin. She does not speak, but, towing the coin close, the vixen moves to fulfill Domos' order. The used mug is abducted from the tod, but, topped off with fresh frothy contents, shortly reunited with him. At that point, another voice pleads for refreshment, and the keep responds with a dutiful nod. "Aye, m'dear." She harvests a stein from the familiar shelf, fills it with a fragrant brew, and slides it to Kayoss. "Ye' wanna' start a tab?" When Jovan plops the hat upon her head, Psamathe musters a smile, and adjusts it; she reels to face the mirror behind the bar, admiring the cap, but the reflection of the tod can not be overlooked. "M'not sure," she quietly tells Jovan, not turning just yet.
The gray fox adjusts his cloak and sits close to the vestibule, just near one of the lanterns. Its glow casts eerily across one side of the visitor's face, and the other seems completely in darkness. Reeb nervously walks up and the fox speaks a few words, pointing over by Psamathe. The maid looks at the gray fox for a moment, before huffing and walking over to the vixen. "He says - if you're in the market for shiny things, he has something you might be interested in. Do you have any idea?? I don't."
Kayoss takes the drink with a pleasant smile as she dips her head in the barmaid's direction. "No, thank you. I'll try this one for a bit." The ratmaid pauses to dig around in a coinpurse hooked to her side, pulling out a few .. well, rather expensive.. coins, before handing them over. "Please, with my compliments. It's been some while since I've been around the area. It's.. good to know some things never go out of style." Even seasons past since her last arrival, the Black Gull still has that same air of seediness and calm that mixes together quite nicely. She turns on a paw, heading toward an empty table to drink. And probably watch the going-ons with a keen eye. Not that anyone could tell beneath the rather demure exterior she presents.
With a shift change drawing close, the paunchy rat, Reeb, is now on the service prowl; also, she is clearly not as suspicious of the cloaked fox. "Shinies? What does 'e think I am? A damned ferret--a blackbird?" Psamathe scoffs, reeling to face her fellow help. "Tellim' 'e oughta' order somethin' 'r get lost; s'almost supper an' tables 'r fer payin' bloody customers." She recoups her poise, stepping to Kayoss. "Thank ye', m'lady." The money is swept home, and the vixen attempts to put the shrouded wraith out of her mind; she accomplishes this with a swift pull from a whiskey bottle, and, smacking her lips, trots back to Jovan. "Can't stand th' creeps 'round 'ere sometimes," she mutters. "Like tha' one. Lookit' 'im. Prolly' ain't even a civilized beast."
"Ah ain't thinking tha' most beasts who wander in 'ere are civilized." Jovan says with a wry grin on his face as he whispers back to her in a quiet tone. "If he tries anything.. " He trails off a bit in a soft voice. "Ah'd be more than happy ta' defend yah' honor. Sides', the coin in my pocket sparkles ah' lot brighter." He says confidently as he eases a look subtly over his shoulder towards the gray fox.
It appears the fox can't see any stares being directed his way, as his pupils continue to bob freakishly around, while his head, for all anybeast can discern, points randomly around the tavern. He drums his digits on the table restlessly, and his weird eyes point directly at Jovan. Out of nowhere, the bobbing-eyes face begins to grin. Still no sign of jollity, or any emotion for that matter, in the upper half of this tod's face. The fox's paw slowly slips into his coat and quickly (causing a few surrounding beasts to jump) produces a gold coin. Was he listening in?
"Fair enough, Cap'n." Psamathe unleashes a dry chortle, in the guise of a cough. "Once inna' while, though, one of 'em'll jus' send a chill up m'spine." Still clenching the whiskey, she extends the flagon to Jovan, nudging its pungent mouth at his nose. "Ye' wanna' pull? S'the house specialty." The vixen drops to her elbows, chin lowered, so that the lavish brim of the hat might shield her pallid face. "Marvelous. Is 'e actually tryin' t'get served now?" She noticed the glint of gold in the sconce light. "I weres jus' about t'have Ferris lug 'im out by his bootstraps."
Kayoss settles down in her seat in the corner, pulling out some old floppy parchment book and scanning through the pages with a mild interest. Her ears might just happen to flick on occasion at certain comments made by the others in the bar, but she makes no show of involving herself at all. She's a rather calm, boring rat. Well, except for the /massive/ sword strapped across her back. That's got to count for something."
"Mm, ah' wouldn't mind sending a chill up yah..' Jovan trails off a bit with a soft laugh under his breath as he reaches out to tap her arm gently, fingers brushing over her darker fur for a moment. Anything to ease her mind, yes? Throw out an epic one liner, sure to woo any vixen. He doesn't twitch as the fox pulls out a coin, he doesn't startle easy, but it seems to pull his lips back into a slight grin. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out one of his own, spinning it about his fingers once more. "So, love." He trails off to Psa. "How much will tha' room yah and ah' will be hanging out in?" He asks as he twirls the coin in front of him.
Psamathe watches his sly gesture of solace, mien vacuous. She breaks a cursory silence with, "Oh, Cap'n," and impishly bops Jovan on his nose. "Ye'r not a shy one, are ye'?" Her lilac gaze slips to the little morsel of treasure, then lifts to catch his eyes. "An' more than tha', I kin assure ye'," the vixen tilts forth as she says this, snout rather close to corsair's cheek, before she catapults out of range. "How's th' drink, m'love?" is her call to Kayoss, remembered in a casual appraisal of the evening crowd.
The fox gets up and walks over to the Jovan and Psamathe. "Hahaha! Oh please... I tried to buy her with a golden idol once, about twice as big as your head, mouse - even that wasn't enough, it seems." The voice would certainly be familiar to any previous acquaintences - a deep baritone with a bright, sneering contemptuousness. He sits down and puts the coin on the table flat, with his paw over it. Removing it, he looks at Psamathe. His yellow teeth are next to show, and then it's unmistakeable.
"Aye? Well, perhaps ya' was compensating a wee bit ta' much matey." Jovan says with a grin on his face as he twirls the coin once more about in his pocket. "The coin isn't for her though, it's for tha' room." He says as he settles his gaze once more upon Psa with a roll of his tongue across his teeth, chuckling to himself. "For her, ah'd take 'er out ta' a nice dinnah and drink, maybe sing 'er a few old fashioned pirate love sonnets." He coo's to the vixen as he leans over the bar some as she leans in, cheeks brushing for a moment before she leans away, chuckling to himself. "Tha's how ya' treat a lady."
Shock takes hold of Psamathe's features; it pops her eyes and practically tows her jaw to the bar top, until she catches it in her palm. She kneads her chin momentarily, disbelief fast transmuting to irritation. "Abner? Toads on th' bloody banks, I 'eard they hung yer arse out t'dry a season or more ago." Her gaze ricochets among the two fellows. She affords a cordial smile for Jovan, telling him, "Now ye'r temptin' me, Cap'n," before the vixen's eyes are back on Anba Hor. "Ye' could stand t'learn a thing'r two from Cap'n 'ere, Abner," she huffs.
"Oh could I? I'm sure I could... treating ladies, pretending to pilot a ship, I'm sure I would be /charming/. If it's all the same, I'd rather drink to my new status. /King/. And kings don't have to learn from pirate mice." He rolls on his stool away from the bar, and turns his head to look at the vixen out of one eye, "Perhaps I'll be kind, and let you bring food up to me in my tower, for old time's sake."
Barking out a laugh, Jovan rolls his eyes over to the vixen. "Oh, a -King-. Well now, I guess you better run along and fetch him some food and drink, wot'?" He says with a wry grin on his face. "So, yah' /majesty/, whatcha doing out 'ere all by yah'self, outside of yah' Kingdom then, ta' meet at tha' Gull?" He drawls out as his eyes lazily looks back to the Fox. "See tha'? I'm tempting 'er, maybe cause' ah'm not suggesting she be a slave tah' my biddin'. Sides, once yah' go pirate, yah don't go back."
"But, Abner," Psamathe laments, "Y'never liked my cookin'." With crestfallen affectation, the fox folds her arms around her middle, ears plummeting to illustrate the untold depths of her despair. She whirls left, matted tendrils of hair twisting about her face and neck with the movement's momentum. "Ah'm unworthy t'be in yer seraphic presence, m'lord," she jests, watching the duo in the mirror. "Let th' foul deeds of m'past haunt me no longer!"
Psamathe breaks character to quip at Jovan, "Ne'er go back? Sounds like a challenge, Cap'n."
Anba_Hor looks down at the mouse, literally, from his position at the bar. "You have no idea. I would obliterate the entire north of the stupid rats that infest it. Then I would obliterate the woodlanders, and then the rabble in this pitiful place would have a proper place. You, mouse, you may follow me and write down the wonderful accounts of my conquests. Psamathe may tend to my offiers' needs. Or I could kill you both, if you wish."
SCHNIIIIIIIICK. Or CLIIIIIIIIIIIINGA. Whatever the case may be, there's a steady sound of steel from the ratmaid sitting in the corner sipping at her mead. And, somehow, the massive blade that had been hooked to her back is now setting with its tip against the ground. Kay's paw rests atop the hilt, the sword easily being taller than herself whils she's sitting. And she lifts her mug to take another sip. "There will be no violence in this tavern tonight," she states, in that same softspoken tongue.
- while* she's sitting.
Squinting his eyes up at the Fox for a moment, Jovan glances over towards the barmaid once more. "Ayup, this one 'ere been whacked on tha' head a few ta' many times ah' say." His tail twitches back and forth behind him a bit rapidly, eyes of dark amber dancing in a playful manner. "Kinda reminds me of mah' ol' gramps, a it senile, always saying tha' most odd things." At the sound of steel scraping along the floor, he tilts his head towards the Rat, then gives her a thumbs up.
Domos has drunk himself into a daze, and rouses from where his head is plopped out on the bar.
The fox looks at the ratmaid. His eyes bobble, he smiles, and then the coin is taken from the bar and tossed gently, in a high arc, up...up... and down.... near the table with the meade resting there. Unconcerned for where the coin has landed, he spins back around to the bar. "It is of no consequence, my new title... you see, nobeast will ever know. They will not care if you tell them - and that is precisely why I will be /above/ kingship. Pure influence, without the slowing factor of appeal. Now.. to the issue of here, and now..."
Psamathe's lips part to speak, but the landslide of action render the vixen bereft of comment. She simply unfurls her arms, one hand balled to rub at each eye, as Kayoss oh-so briskly springs to action. A pleasant change of events. Ferris cracks an eye at the noise, but his speckled snout simply splits in a grateful grin, as the old wolf mumbles something about 'classy dames' and returns to his slumber. "Aye, I kin see yer point," Psamathe tells Jovan, finally locating her voice. "He's a total nutter. But ah' be thinkin' she's got this." A smile flits over her face, and the vixen's head tilts at the rat maiden.
Frakklesworth suddenly clambers out from behind the bar, arms tossed akimbo, grasping with mad energy at whatever comes to paw. "Ah paws 'n deck, mee mayteeeees!" The stoat clumsily heaves his undulant form onto the slice surface, displacing bottles and glasses that clatter angrily to the floor and splash out in sudden shards. "Bat'n doooooooowwn the hatches. Hahahaha!" His paws clutch at a ceiling that is not, in fact, within reach, and he tumbles off the bar and onto Domos. "Hehe. Fuuuzzy!" He pokes at Domos' fur.
What, is he trying to buy her off or something? Kay's eyes flicker briefly to the coin, watching it roll a few times until it comes to a steady stop on the countertop. And then she just slips calmly out of her chair, hefting the blade to rest it against a shoulder as she slips toward the bar and the group. The cool steel blue of her eyes glances over the group, offering the faintest hint of amusement in her gaze to the vixen, before she pauses just behind Anba. And then just stands there, like some kind of silent sentinel. She's not going to bully him or anything. But she'll whoop him from here to kingdom come if he tries to follow through with any of his nutter ideas.
"Aye, so.. " Jovan trails off a bit with that grin on his face, reaching out to snag Psa' by the hand as she ambles by. Fingers give hers a squeeze. "'Bout t'night.. Dinnah, a drink? What say you.." He trails off a bit as Frakkle suddenly springs out from behind the bar, shouting out in pirate speak. At least he can understand every word. His grin widens even more across his face, and he barks out another loud laugh "Ah'har me matey! Aye! Batten' down tha' hatches and prepare fah' tha' Kraken!" As he tumbles off the bar, he raises a brow upwards to the bar maid. "Ah'd cut tha' one off from his tab."
"Frak!" the fox keep shrieks, casting off all current concerns. She hardly realizes that her hand is in Jovan's, as the stoat's boisterous entrance blacks out the seconds immediately previous to it. Starting to reel, a pointless reflex to save the strewn bottles and dishes, Psamathe is pulled back by his grip. "Er .. m'sorry, Cap'n. Wha' was it ye' were sayin'?" she politely asks, and uses her free end to delicately unhinge his fingers from her own. "Frak!" she squeals again. "I tol' ye' not t'do this t'me again! What'll Rev think iffn' she gets wind o' this? She'll 'ave both our hides."
Staring around confused, Domos' head pounding the old tod is completely caught off guard as the stoat makes his crazed entrance and lands on him. He growls, hisses, still confused and very much still tipsy he reaches for his drink. Only to find it nowhere in sight, no doubt on the floor and then he loses it, "You fink, I'll kill you!" He reaches for the stoat now, and advertly tosses him towards the mouse.
Anba_Hor chuckles. He laughs and peels away his face, the gray fox coming off of his own, and the gooey applicant stretching and unsticking to his real face. The face of a much younger fox, vibrant, jet black with fresh scars and a few old ones, but mostly handsome. The eyes come off with it - glass, with those pupils still bobbing inside them. The new fox realizes that only one thing will give weight to his words, and so he produces another coin, and with it, one of the most elegantly-fashioned goblets that probably any of those in attendance have ever seen - rubies, sapphires, mother of pearl inlays in the cup itself. "I'll have your finest, in this, then."
Frakklesworth tumbles backward from Domos' shove, but, wobbling, manages to remain upright. He begins craning his neck to peer over at the harpy's vociferous chiding. "Ligh'en up, tootsh! Ye know..." he leans heavily on the bar, his head bobbing like a suffocating porpoise, "Yoo know she lovesh me." His yellow teeth poke out in self-satisfied rows from above his black gums. "An' yoo doo t-too!" He miscalculates a demonstrative jab of his finger, and it strikes hard against the surface of the bar.
Being a showoff is not killing anyone. But Kay doesn't entirely let her guard down, leaning against the bar as she holds her gigantic sword point in the ground before her. "Could I get another mead, miss?" she asks, offering a polite smile to the ... well, otherwise distracted Psamathe. After all, hers is on the other side of the room. And she's not about to leave Nutter!fox on his own for two seconds. Someone needs to play referee tonight.
As the authentic bar brawl threatens to bloom, all Psamathe can do is dodder backward, until the her shoulders hit the mirror behind the bar. She winces, a deft hand soaring to stabilize the colossal looking glass. "Abner, I don' know if," the vixen starts, but thinks better of it, and slinks to the liquor shelves. A hand hovers in the air, index finger extended, as it drifts among the indecipherable labels, until it reaches its target. "Ah." She casts a glance over her shoulder, first to Jovan--he is also offered a penitent smile--and then to Frakklesworth. "Yes, m'dear. They all know I love ye'." By now she has brought the selected flagon to the bar, and begins, bitterly, to fill Anba Hor's chalice.
When the pour is complete, Psamathe bobs a deferential nod to Kayoss. "Of course, m'love." She pivots, toting the high-end bottle of brew, as she trots to the rat. "'Ere. Have a nip o' this." What she dumps into the dame's mug is hardly a 'nip', but the fox punctuates it a lop-sided grin. "On th' house."
Anba_Hor is all smiles, even as the potential fight goes on behind him. "Perfect. This crew would be /perfect/. I'm looking to get off of this mainland and set sail. I need a ship, and I need a place that might be able to stock it with lots and lots of grog. Do you hear me, Psamathe? Captain? How much would /that/ take? More than a petty coin, I imagine..." The fox triumphantly casts a glance about, and his gaze rests on Kayoss. "What?! Do something useful with yourself, would you? Do I look like I'm about to start a fight?" He sneers at her. "Your kind... I can tell you I've had about enough..."
"You can tell me a lot of things. You mouth hasn't stopped running since you first spoke," Kayoss states in a bored tone to Anba, before grabbing the NIP of mead from Psamathe and offering another smile and bob of her head. "Thanks, Miss." Though she glances down into the mug and looks up with a little smirk on her features. "Though if this is your idea of a nip, I can see why your patrons stumble about so." Really, no one in this place besides Psamathe and maybe the other fox (Domos), seem remotely normal or sane. Or sober. She remains resting against the bar, now sipping at her mead in silence.
Frakklesworth struts over to Anba Hor. "Misss'er Fox! Mishter Foxy Fox!" His rubber limbs threaten to fold beneath him, but clearly his body, having long since given up fighting against the hapless creature's demons, has simply adjusted to a state of constant, unyielding inebriation. And so, he stays upright; just. Slithering one arm over the black fox's shoulders, the stoat tries with the other to play with his ears.
Ferris dutifully drags another drunk to the lounge.
Psamathe drags fingers through her hair, working absently at the tangles therein. "Eh--works t'our advantage in the end," she chats with the rat, though her eyes follow Frakklesworth's hijinks with a glint of parental charge. "Sober beasts are grumpy beasts; we kin keep the gripin' to a minimum iffn' our trade is a generous one. It ain't like we want fer money'r nothin'." A subtle smile remains fixed on her snout.
Domos passes out at the bar.
Anba_Hor is ready for anything. The stumbling fool is no exception... the fox, being the torturer he is, has plenty of things to knock out victims. He dabs a bit of a light blue powder, of which he's built up considerable tolerance, to his nose and mouth. He does this while appearing to casually wipe his mouth and nose of his drink's frothy head... after which, he smiles and nods at Frakklesworth, and sneezes into his face. "Pardon me..."
Frakklesworth's strabismic pink eyes peer with sudden seriousness back at Anba's. "Yer par'nned, me f-frien'." His mouth peels open in a gap-toothed smile: a silent laugh. He pats the Torturer's ears again. "Y'r fuzzy choo..." With his head swimming to the side, he grapples for a lock on Psamathe amid the blurry scenery. "Ish all fo-fokshes fuzhy??....??" His paw relinquishes its grip on Anba's ear, and Graham C. Frakklesworth IV tumbles to the floor.
Anba_Hor holds up a paw, "He's fine. Let him be, check him if you don't trust me... and you're welcome besides." The fox takes a hearty swig of his drink and sets it down on the bar. "So who would help me? Crazy or not, I assure you you will not be bored - and I can hardly imagine a more boring place than down the road of a monastery of peace-loving woodlanders. Hah!" He looks at Jovan. "How much for a ship? Or does 'captain' ring just short of true?"
Cliffhanger!
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