PM to join [The Drunken Fish] The Unwelcome Visitor (Prid)

[Kaie]

1st of Spring, 514 AV
11th Bell

Her entrance into Sunberth wasn't at all glamorous, but then again neither was her way of travel. It had taken almost forty days to complete her journey from Nyka, and she spent majority of that crammed into a corner of the ship the captain should've been ashamed to call living quarters. The world below deck was horribly musty and she swore just about every crevice was filled with newly grown mold. Yet she was no woman born to a luxurious lifestyle. Quite frankly she was just happy to be long gone of that wretched city Uphis partially controlled. The strange events surrounding her capture would haunt her for some time. Until she had found what she was sent here to find and shipped herself right back at least.

Sunberth left its impression the moment the ship finally docked and she left the wretched merchant vessel. It hit her like a pissed off Tskanna, that city's stench. The smell reminded her far too much of the carcasses she had created with her allies over the last few seasons. By the stories travelers had told her in The Rearing Stallion, Kaie couldn't honestly doubt the possibility there really were dead things laying somewhere in the streets. Her bronzed skin crawled at the very notion, and her right hand loomed that much closer to the gladius at her side. Grubby, scruffy faced men wandered the decrepit scene that made up the docks. Some toted heavy boxes of cargo up the ramps of departing ships, others lazily let their dirty feet dangle above the sea. Yet each of them stared at her the same way as she passed.

Myrian.
Savage.
Cannibal.

The young woman set her jaw and kept her gaze straight ahead, amber eyes only glancing about distrustfully every so often. It was strange, that new city. Every where she had been since Taloba was bigger and more glamorous in its own way. Yet this barbarian establishment already seemed like the asshole of their world as far as she could tell. Forgotten. Sickly. Disastrous. And this is where the doomsayers in Nyka bid her to begin her search. It was beginning to be easier to despise them the farther she went from their reach. What was she even doing here? This was not Falyndar, nothing reminiscent to home. It was just another shyke hole to be stuck in too far from where she belonged.

"Hey, you have tavern here?" She asked a graying sailor suddenly, who turning his head to look at her and crossed his arms across his chest. Dull eyes glanced up and down her figure, no doubt taking in the sight of her attire. His cracked lips shifted in disdain, but he answered nonetheless.

"Aye. Drunken Fish. Over there." He extended a blackened finger toward a crummy building down the walkway, his voice disgruntled and monotone. She thanked him with a subtle nod and went on her way in its direction, reminding herself she should probably learn how to read as she entered soon after.

The tavern was dim inside, the patrons just as filthy and sea-legged as the men she encountered at the docks. Majority of them were already wasted, a few slumped so deeply into their chairs Kaie found herself wondering if they were passed out or deceased. Falling back into her own bad habits again, she found herself seated at the counter ordering a strong mug of ale.

Deductions:4 Copper Mizas.

[Prid]

Time usually flew by for Prid, a trait typical of long-lived races. Unfortunately, there was something about this gods-forsaken city that seemed to drag time out as if everyone were running through a bog, the mud lapping at their knees and threatening to pull them down, further and further. Until they hit rock bottom. That was Sunberth.

It'd been a full season, to the day, since he'd "arrived", packaged neatly in ribbons of chains. And, to his dismay, it actually felt like a season had passed. Now he understood why humans always seemed so impatient.

Still, it'd been a season and the locals didn't seem to be quite used to his presence in their midst. Some backed away when Mr. Selfbled walked by, toting his novelty bodyguard along, others would forget themselves and outright gape. More still would flash defensive, hostile glares that reminded Prid of the look one hungry dog might flash to another. The look of wanting to fight but knowing they'd probably die.

In fact, that particular expression seemed to be worn by a good number of Sunberth's denizens. If Mr. Selfbled was trying to keep himself from harm's way, it seemed like he was doing a poor job at it, drawing attention by dragging a giant gorilla-man with him. Then again, no one wanted to mess with the fellow dragging a giant gorilla-man around.

Today's order of business had led the two to some hellhole of a tavern, not that it was so unusual. Prid had taken care to haphazardly draw his cloak's hood over his head, shadowing some portion of his ape-like face though it did nothing to disguise his inhuman stature. Mr. Selfbled, made no effort to blend in. The only thing more sharp-looking than the clothes he wore were the features on his face -- and the blades of the surrounding seafarers.

Prid had himself seated on the cold floor beside a rather shoddily built table. He didn't need to be a carpenter to tell that any chairs in this place would likely splinter beneath his weight, though from where he sat he was still nearly as tall as the two men who were seated across from him. One was, of course, his owner. The other Prid did not recognize: a nervous sort of man, who managed to give off a certain vibe of weak-mindedness despite his muscular frame.

"I'm swearin' to ya, I'll get the mizas. Ten days, maybe twenty tops." The fellow's voice was thin, higher pitched than Prid would have expected.

From what the Jamoura could tell, it was the same kind of conversation as it always was. The man owed Mr. Selfbled some money for some reason or another, and Mr. Selfbled lost much of his patience when it came to his money.

Prid rubbed a large hand across his face in exasperation, about to tune out the pair when his owner suddenly whipped a short knife out of his waistcoat and slammed it into the table. Prid froze for a second, but if any other patrons in the establishment noticed, they paid no mind.

"Mr. North," Selfbled began, keeping his voice deceptively smooth. At the name, the Jamoura's gaze slid from the dull edge of the little blade, rising to meet his owner's face. Prid pursed his lips.

"Sir?" The word fell from his mouth like molasses. He'd been given "North" as a surname within his very first bell of servitude. He still hadn't made up his mind on whether or not he particularly liked the name, but he found no reason to complain about it.

"Do go make yourself comfortable at the bar for a chime or two. No drinks of course." Selfbled's pale gaze never left the other man's as he spoke, seeming to freeze the poor sap in pace. Of course, it was an order, not a suggestion. With a low, rumbling sigh, Prid pushed himself to his feet and watched as Mr. Selfbled led his acquaintance -- who was now visibly growing more and more anxious by the tick -- to a nearby private room.

It was a bit odd, for a man to leave his bodyguard in another room. But there were some things the con artist liked to do alone, and persuading people was one of those things.

So Prid lumbered his way over to the bar, eliciting a few suspicious glares as he made his way across the room. Luckily, a good number of the folks in the tavern were too drunk to really pay much attention to just another strange hooded figure. The cloak he wore, though broad enough to fit his shoulders, was lacking about a foot in length, leaving his gorilla feet exposed to any observant enough to notice.

Prid stooped a bit as he arrived at the bar counter on the other side of the dim room. It was a tedious pain to have to try to be as inconspicuous as possible, especially since he always seemed to be draw attention no matter what he did.

He laid a leathery hand on the counter top as he drew near, pulling a stool out of the way so he could stand. Some nearby patrons -- well on their way to a drunken stupor -- giggled as they caught sight of Prid's hulking self. He ignored them.

[Gad]

Last season. Ghosts, prize fights, mercenaries, and old acquaintances. Last season was weird. But, the ice was thawing, people were getting better from -or at least getting used to- the weird miasma of illness that had fallen over the city. It was a new year. Things looked hopeful for the city. Gad's outlook was a little less optimistic. He was sitting in the Drunk Fish at the bar, chewing off the owner's ear about his problems. He'd stumbled off of the wrong side of the haystack mattress this morning and was determined to make everyone else just as miserable. His day began early, coming down dockside where he normally plied his trade, if it could be called that, he got sidetracked by the spirits. The regulars and sailors knew him, or enough of him, to avoid getting into any kind of card games, crap-shoots, or caught up in any other kind of "business dealing", but, knowing the danger, they regarded him as more-or-less harmless -if at all. Father Manowar had nothing against Gad either, because coin was coin and it wasn't his business how a body came by it. He might've had a problem with patrons getting sloshed before noon, or at least ones so obnoxious about it, but he didn't let it show. And Gad the Great was tipping back his third serving of rum. "En then, look, you look, you got the Sun's Birth, right? And you don't wanna get me started on them." "I won't." Manowar replied while sliding a beer down to a salty looking guy. "Walkin around this place like some kinda- you know what? What's a Dragoon anyway? Huh Merv?" "Wrong bar." "What's a- Merv shush. What's a dragoon? Is it some kind of- of raccoon? It sounds like raccoon so I'm thinking it's some kind of raccoon in drag or- heh. Can you picture that Merv? Picture it." "Oh I'm picturing it." "Yeah like, a raccoon in a dress! Male raccoon, obviously. Everybody!" Nobody was paying attention. "I've found out what a dragoon is! Dragoooon-ah. Yep. Hey, you ever wonder where all these Mizas come from? Who er, who makes those things?" "Gotta mint-" Gad huffed the air in front of him and leaned forward into the cloud of air, sniffing it. Manowar shook his head and continued "Gotta mint out in Syliras, that's where they make em." Gad raised his brows and then furrowed them. He wondered how they'd circulated so far, from Syliras to Sunberth, and if they went to other regions of Mizahar as well. He supposed they wouldn't be called Mizas if they were only used in Syliras. Then they'd be called Syliras, which would only add to confusion because people would never know if you were talking about the region, the city, or the currency. Syliras was another one of those words, like Dragoon, that if you said it enough it just sounded odd. Gad set the cup of rum down a peered in. In the dim light and on the rippling surface his reflection looked like another person, someone evil. It gave Gad the chills. He didn't have long for navel gazing though. A young woman walked in, stone faced with set eyes, and order a mug of ale. Gad watched this take place, and took note of the various looks and mutters she drew. Some of it was racist, and Gad could hear them whisper Myrian underneath their breath. He himself never made a show of his Myrian heritage and was just fine passing of a one of the full-blooded faithful Benshira who were rarely under suspicion. Still, he never liked how those who were obviously Myrian were treated with so much derision, but he supposed he understood, given the reputation. However, he doubted how many of the wandering eyes were those of Myrian haters, and how many were just taking the chance to ogle the young woman. As soon as she looked the other way, he took a good look himself. She was short compared to the Myrian woman he'd seen, but he couldn't recall any other races with piercings like that. He saw her drinking her ale and felt compared to comment. "Pfft. Featherweight." He snickered. He raised his rum up so she could see it. "Try you a Sunberth Shanty! Now, that's a real Sunberth drink, that's how, how you get it started!" Father Manowar shook his head and looked over to the woman. "We don't actually serve those here." Even in his belligerence Gad knew enough not to lay it on too thick with a Myrian girl- his father's few stories from his courtship made it sound unhealthy- and he went back to minding his own business for about the five ticks it took for assosciates Selfbled and North to come shambling in the joint. The heavy steps of the Jamoura's weight made the wooden floorboards creak noticeably. Under the mellow haze of alcohol the reasonable amount of practiced apathy that all Sunberthers were inured to was lost on Gad, and he fell into one of the city's gravest taboos; getting interested in other people's business. While anyone who had some sense and wanted to know what was up would sheepishly steal glances when the coast was clear, Gad spun around as soon as he heard the weighted footsteps and caught a glimpse of the ape-ling that was tailing behind the befeathered freakshow. Gad let out a gaping yawn as he started detailing what was under that cloak. At first, his mind made it out as a singularly broad human. But the hand feet were what gave it away as something other. Yes, it was definitely something not-a-human. The Flamboyant Man made with making not so subtle threats in the form of stabbed tables to some poor looking sap. It was all pretty standard Sunberth fair and Gad had to wonder how many tables in Sunberth were riddled with pockmarks from the dagger points of some dramatic goon trying to make a point. Oh shit! Goon! I bet that's where it comes from! Delayed firings went off in Gad's brain and he started thinking about goons in drag, for a brief moment, before refocusing on the odd couple. Now, he disregarded the Feathered Man, as that wasn't really something to see. But the Monkey Man, that was something else, and clearly had some kind of intelligence. Soon, Gad overheard him -Mr.North- being dismissed to the bar, and it was his luck that the ape stood right between where Gad was stooling it up, and the Myrian girl. Lacking the better part of valor, Gad decided to make conversation with the creature. "Hey."

-30cm Rum

[Kaie]

Kaie was far too familiar with drunks. Every tavern she'd ever been had them. There were the loud ones, the silly stumbling ones, and the kind that were out cold not even a bell after they started. The sort she found in Sunberth were nothing like the more mild mannered drinkers that visited the Rearing Stallion where she served bartender in Syliras. The crowd in the Drunken Fish was far more unbridled and careless. As of late she hadn't decided what that fact meant, though she was far more aware of the presence around her. Naturally that wasn't all too difficult when the boldest decided to call out to her.

Kaie quirked a brow and turned in her seat to find the source of voice. He was an interesting figure to say the least. She'd heard the smaller part of whatever ridiculous conversation he was having with Manowar, and it was more than enough to make her grateful he wasn't directly beside her. She raised her own mug of ale in his direction and made a polite nod of her head to satisfy him. Then she tipped it back and let the bitter drink slip down her through in a generous amount. All she was interested in was wasting away her troubles in peace. At least that's what she had told herself before a much larger presence entered the room.

The young Myrian woman gaped at the ape-man in bewilderment, her amber eyes reflecting the excitement in her own unspoken thoughts. Actually the very sight of him made her terribly nostalgic. A few times in Falyndar she had glimpsed a gorilla through the thick jungle foliage with Keikyo. They had watched the silverback lumber around proudly on his hands and feet, noticed the way he flashed his gruesome incisors when he had caught their scent. Of course trying to outrun the beast had been quite a terrifying moment for the two of them, but she missed it nonetheless. Goddess, she wanted home.

Her expression had smoothed over since her initial shock, her face suddenly almost neutral by the time the ape-man had removed the stool beside her to stand at the counter. Kaie could hear the voices of the patrons behind them. The giggles, the whispers and snickers, they were far too familiar. It didn't matter where she went. They accusations always followed. It made her feel almost sympathetic for the creature that would have little trouble snapping her in two.

"Hey."

You've gotta be kidding me...

Kaie turned to find the rambling drunk from before looking at the ape-man with his hazy eyes. A smirk split across her face in amusement, forcing her to glare down into her mug. It would be a gods given miracle if the guy didn't manage to get his face flattened by their new neighbor's leathery hands.

"He's a bright one isn't he?" The Myrian laughed quietly to the creature, shaking her head and taking another drink from her mug.

[Prid]

Prid North

"...What can I get ya?" The bartender hesitated a moment before offering. Of course, Prid wasn't here to drink -- not because he was ordered not to, though that was a largely contributing factor in the decision, but because it simply didn't seem... right. He had no reason to. He was neither mournful nor celebrating, and neither did he find simple pleasure in the act. Really, what was the pleasure in the act? Prid certainly had no idea, and though his curiosity was great, his small disdain was greater.

But he was feeling a bit parched, wasn't he? Surely alcohol wasn't all they served here. Water. They were at a pier. There was no reason for them to not serve water. "I will have --" Then again, this wasn't exactly the cleanest part of the city, an there was no telling what kind of trash had made its way into the water supply. "-- nothing," he rumbled, waving the bartender away with a huff and a slight shake of his hooded head. He'd gone longer without a drink than this before, and there was certainly no reason to risk disease for comfort.

Still, it was with a quiet resignation that Prid realized he'd landed himself directly beside the only drunk in the building that had seen fit to speak directly to him, rather than only muttering to the next closest person. Not that the Jamoura could complain. After all, the atmosphere in this place didn't exactly put him at ease. Talking was one way Prid had found himself able to calm his nerves, and a somewhat friendly drunkard was better than a less-than-friendly drunkard as far as a conversation went.

Hey. Hay? The familiar greeting was still a bit strange to his ears, despite his years spent in human-populated cities. He couldn't recall hearing it much himself in the Spires -- perhaps it was used more frequently in places where horses were a more prominent feature? Hay. Prid turned his head slightly inward to gaze at the fellow, beady brown eyes shining under the shadows of his cloak. To the Jamoura, the man seemed to be any average Sunberthian, though perhaps he smelled a bit better than most. He was a tall man in his own right, but his sitting position hardly gave Prid notice of that fact. Still, he suddenly felt like a sore thumb as he stood at the counter. Everyone else seemed to be perched on a stool, and while Prid didn't want to accidentally splinter the furniture, there was no reason he shouldn't at least try to not be such a looming presence.

He crouched a little bit, bringing himself as close to a human's regular sitting height as he could. The hunched position may have looked a bit awkward, but it wasn't overly uncomfortable and he hoped it might put the other tavern-goers at ease.

Either way, Prid had yet to design a reply to the human man's greeting before a softer voice tugged at him from the opposite side of his girth. Here he was met with the more pleasant sight of someone who was neither drunk nor harebrained. He had not arrived soon enough to see her enter, but the same sense of strangeness that people usually regarded Prid with seemed to be directed towards her as well. Why, though? She seemed like a relatively normal human to his own eyes, if perhaps a little exotic.

He found himself returning her laugh with a smile. There was sarcasm in her voice, he knew. But was it was jovial or mocking?

The exact meaning of her words were lost on him, though. Oh, he knew what she was implying about the man's intelligence, but why would a simple greeting be a foolish gesture. Because you're the big guy, he reason to himself. Because you seem pretty dangerous.

That only meant he was doing his job correctly. But Mr. Selfbled wasn't here, and Prid felt no need to try to be particularly intimidating. He shrugged at the woman, casting his gaze back to the man. "I suppose. Luck has it, I am not native to this place." Which, of course, meant that he was not the kind of goon that liked to go around beating anyone who spoke to him. He only beat the ones he was told to.

"I am Prid," he introduced himself to neither of the two in particular. He would have offered his hand, but, well, people didn't tend to react all too positively to giant ape hands coming towards their body.

[Gad]

The Myrian girl made a derisive remark about Gad's intelligence. He leaned back on his stool, behind Pird, and stuck his tongue out at her. "Prid is it? Like, priddy Prid? I mean uh-, that short for something? I only ask cause, people always ask me. If it's short for something. My name, that is." He took another drink "Which is Gad, by the way. Say, you don't mind me asking but uh- have you always-... have you always been like that?" Gad did a vague gesture of wiping his hand in the air in front of his face. "You know- a monkey? I mean- not that there's anything wrong with that. Being a monkey. I'm not judging. It's just, kinda weird." Gad leaned forward this time instead of back, and shot a question to the woman. "You know, I ain't ever seen you in here before. You got a name or should I just call you sweet cheeks?" He chuckled to himself. "Heh, sweet cheeks. Get it? It's because you have such a nice-" he took a drink. "smile." Gad could hear something going down in the back room. A struggle, and loud talking, though each was drowned out by the sound of the nearby docks and muffled through the wooden door. Gad sparred a long look in that direction. He wasn't sure what kind of business it was, but the Glasses guy sure seemed like he was intent on taking care of it. From what Gad had seen of him, he looked like a real slick type. Gad was a slick type. And, he didn't especially like slick types. He shifted his glance back to Prid. Even though the Myrian-Benshira mutt had started putting two and two together, he felt the need to ask. "So, Priddy, if you don't mind my asking, how'd you come to be in the service of one Mr. Glasses McGee? What's he pay to keep a conversation starter like you hanging around?" Gad assumed the ape man must be either well compensated or been being blackmailed by the skinny rake with the big teeth. Gad quickly stole a look at the girl. She must've been fresh of the boat, or Gad assumed so. The Myrian residents of Sunberth, proud as they might be, tended to try a little harder to blend that she seemed to want to. Gad rested his heed on a hand. She was gorgeous, and she didn't seem to have a man around. He wondered if that was because she didn't realize this city was dangerous enough to want one, or if she was just dangerous enough to not need one. Now the latter, that was a scary thought.

[Kaie]

It was strange to hear the ape-man talk despite how "civilized" he appeared. That's how the barbarians always judged those outside that dared to venture in, especially in Human dominated societies. How civilized one was. One look at her wild attire and their minds were just about made up. She supposed the talking gorilla knew the feeling. Where a Myrian could learn to speak Common and assimilate into the contemporary ways of the eastern world, he could not. To them he would always be a big, muscular animal like she was the rabid savage. Yet the world was always what one made of it. Even she knew that.

Kaie turned her head upon the large individual's introduction, and consequently caught the drunkard's reaction to her words. A soft laugh escaped her lips but then it too was drowned by the raising of her mug once more. There was no need for her to return the gesture. Long before she lowered her cup the man was off again like an arrow from a bowstring. At least he was harmless.

Guess he should be lucky Prid looks like the type with a lengthy fuse. Any other guy in here might've reconstructed his face with all that talk.

Suddenly the slurred words were directed back at her, causing the Myrian female to arch a curious brow at the man who called himself Gad. Her amber eyes studied him for a moment, tongue lashing out to line the inner edge of her bottom lip. Her gaze narrowed at the beginning of his comment, but her lips curled for a tick in an amused grin upon his smooth recovery. Only then did she finally address him directly.

"Kaie," She answered steadily with another drink of her ale. Not too long ago it was decided her introductions would be short and sweet, no longer sharing with it her born clan name. They had little use for it in places this far from her homeland. "You're definitely the ram-bunct-ious type aren't you?" Despite speaking the Common tongue for some time, the more complex words always seemed to get distorted by her accent.

Then came the noise. Raised voices, their tones carrying intimidation and sly threats. Usual sounds to her foreign ears. Gad seemed to lock right onto whatever it was going on behind the walls and he had no issue voicing his curiosity. However the Myrian paid it no mind. Business was business in all shapes and forms.

"People like Prid and I don't usually come here by choice. Especially not a shyke hole like Sunberth. If I'm wrong, may the gods help you. I got half way here by that mistake."