15th of Fall, 515 AV Zeltiva, The Kelp Bar Almost the 22nd Bell Not for the first time, Azrayel found himself staring into the bottom of an empty tankard. As he lowered it back down to the bar and stared at it with sadness he moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth, savoring the salty, bottom-of-a-fish-barrel residue that now clung to the inside of his mouth. That was the lovely thing about Kelp Beer - other than how cheap it was - every mug tasted better than the last. The thought made him giddy and he chuckled, nearly falling out of his stool. ”Alright, Kolasi, I think ye’ve had enough fer tonight.” As he stared at the ceiling, her heard the exasperated voice of the resident serving wench. Azrayel pulled himself back up to an upright position, staring at the ageing server as she took his empty mug, beginning to idly clean it with a rag that looked like it was previously used to clean out a latrine. She might’ve been pretty once; her auburn hair fell about her face and shoulders in lustrious, silver-streaked locks. Hell, a few more tankards and he could imagine her beginning to look real, real pretty. ”You don’t….Listen to me, here. The night is young, and it is improper… and unprofessional…” Azrayel watched heartbroken as she rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving him dryer than a bone fish. He sighed, and took out his purse from his pocket, counting out a few coins onto the bar. How many did I have…? Five? Six? Azrayel glanced up at the weathered sign. Half-Nilo a Tankard? So…. One half of… Minus the… Carry the... ”Bah, petch it.” He slapped give Gold Miza’s on the counter. She could use the extra coin anyways. Briefly feeling pleased with himself, he turned in his stool, scanning the rest of the room idly. It was a typical night at The Kelp Bar. The patrons were rowdy, but not any more so than usual. Slurred voices raised high in merriment, and rang out with old pre-valterrian folksongs and sea shanties new and old. Azrayel hummed along, turning his head as a particularly stocky trio of sailor types at a nearby table proudly filled the ramshackle building with one such tune. Their voices rose and fell in an inebriated crescendo. and words got slurred and skipped over, but with three of them singing in unison, the words came through regardless: Goodbye Sweet Lady of Zeltiva, Way Hey, Sweet Lady of mine,, Oh I’ll see her again, yes, I’ll see her again, Way Hey, sweet lady so fine, Somewhere she stands still waiting, Way Hey, fair lady divine, Yes she waits for me still, yes she waits for me still, Way Hey, sweet lady so fine. Azrayel reached for his tankard, pawing indignantly at the bar when he felt nothing. The words stirred about in his mind, and he sighed, resting his head on the bar. They spoke of things that eluded Azrayel; He was a man who had become a stranger in his own city. Alastair had been the last of his friends that had drifted out of the city. He no longer could face his parents. So drank alone. He grumbled as he sat up, trying to get the attention of the serving wench as he heard the sailors begin to wind up for another few verses. Makes my heart yearn for home, Way Hey, my lady so sweet, Think of you still, yes I think of you still, Way Hey, my lady unique. Returning to you shortly, Way Hey, my beautiful bride, Stay on the shore, aye I’ll stay on the shore, Way Hey, lady at my side. Azrayel pushed away from the bar, taking several haphazard stumbles toward the table where they were singing. Just so sick of it… He very nearly collapsed onto their table, knocking two tankards over - one of the sailors getting drenched in the malodorous green concoction. They all abruptly stopped singing and stood up, letting out several surprised expletives. ”Petching hell! What’re you on, pisshead?” He pushed back from the table, falling back a step. The world pitched and lurched to the side, and he threw out a hand, bracing himself on one of the buildings rickety support beams. He felt his stomach rolling forward slowly in his stomach and he held a hand over his mouth, letting out a hearty chuckle, relieved at least that the sardonic singing had ceased. Looking back to the table of perturbed sailors, he began to slowly clap. ”You fella’s got real talent…Should be paying you fer the entertainment.” Azrayel finished the thought by pointing at one of the sailors, now coated in sticky slime that smelled of week old, sun-ripened caviar. ”Escpeshially you. You were brilliant.” The man pointed back in response. ”Oi, you got me filthy mate!” Azrayel stumbled back up to the edge of their table, grinning. ”Least you don’t smell as bad as yer mother.” Tired of thinking... At this point, the three muscle-bound seamen had gotten uncomfortably close to him, boxing Azrayel in from all sides. The constant inebriated roar of small talk in the background began to simmer into a dull murmur. ”Nobody petches about with my mum, right, boys?” The other two nodded in unision. Just make it stop. ”Really? Aint what she told me outside The Loveless last-” The air resonated with a flat-packing thud as Azrayel’s head whipped back, stumbling and nearly falling over, narrowly catching himself on the bar - and nearly knocking someone out of their stool in the process. ”Hnng… Sorry about that miss.” The man's fist had hit him like a cannon, and the floor beneath him seemed to tilt and whirr. He dabbed at his lip, wincing and coming up with blood on his fingertips. The two cleaner gentleman chuckled, as the sailor who hit him took a swaggering step toward him, beckoning. ”C’mon then, funny guy! If you’ve got anymore jokes, I’d love to hear-” Azrayel was on him in a moment, his entire body lunging forward behind his fist. The hook tore into the sailors jaw, and before he could topple from the blow, he had the guy by shirt. ”Yeah, He paused, pulling down on the guy’s shirt, he cocked a fist back as far as he could.”You hit like a girl! The other two quickly were on him, each grabbing a separate arm and pulling them apart. The third man, rubbing his jaw from the hit, walked towards him casually. ”Well, we’ll hafta see about that, mate.” The sailor’s face spread into a toothy grin as he pressed his fist against his palm, his knuckles letting out an audible pop. Well, Azrayel clenched his jaw tightly. This is gonna hurt… |