Closed Good Kelp is Hard to Find (Calla Davin)

[Victor Flint]

7th of Fall, 519 AV
Kelp Bar - Around 8th Bell

Victor wandered the streets of the unfamiliar city of Zeltiva. His wandering could not be justly described as "aimless" as he certainly did have an aim in mind, but "directionless" would likely be a more apt fit. Two days since arriving in Zeltiva he had already secured employment from a local leatherworker as a hunter, however, as with the city itself, the woods surrounding it were foreign to him, and he was not foolhardy enough to venture into them without a guide.

Looking around, Victor noticed that he seemed to have wandered into a rougher part of town. The buildings here all seemed to be in some state of disrepair and the people seemed slightly meaner than he had come to expect from the rest of town. Perhaps due to his upbringing in Syliras, where crime was stamped out mercilessly, he did not become overly concerned by this change. In fact, he was quite pleased -- the kind of person he was looking for would be the rougher sort after all. His eyes settled on a metal sign with the words "Kelp Bar" punched out of it. Perfect.

As Victor made his way into the local establishment, what he hoped to find was some hardened hunting group to ingratiate himself with. Instead, he was faced with what was clearly a smattering of sailors and dock workers. Disappointed but not defeated, he headed to the bar counter. He had the unnerving feeling that everyone in the bar was following him with their eyes as he approached, but he quickly dismissed such a fancy. A sign declared "KELP BEER - 1 HALF-NILO". Having traded with some Zeltivan merchants at the Bazaar in Syliras in the past, Victor was at least aware of the Nilo as a form of currency, however lacked any further knowledge. "Barkeep, good day! Would you happen to know anyone familiar with the woods around these parts?"

[Calla Davin]

It had been a hard summer. She worked a lot and, seemingly, played just as much; unfortunately, the play was just as harmful of the work. A bruised stomach, burnt foot, and crushed friend later, Calla found herself in fall. Now, to say she was giving up after summer wouldn't exactly be correct. More apt would be to say that she was taking it easy this season. Taking it easy, in Calla's opinion, meant relaxation was key at all times. Work wasn't particularly stressful, but it clearly had been taking its toll on her body. So she decided to start fall with a few days off.

It was day one of her little staycation, and she was starting it with one of her least favorite activities: drinking kelp beer. Though she still loved Poppers, they weren't giving her the same punch as they usually did. Given her last experience with Temper, she was reluctant to give that drug another try. That left only one relaxation method that she could think of: drinking.

It's about time I became a real Zeltivan anyway. Calla thought as she stared down her half-empty glass. It was slow-going, but she was getting there. The woman sat at the bar, her off-white peasant shirt pushed up to her elbows. Her tattooed arm limply rested on the bar while her other arm supported her head. Her leather bag sat in her lap, filled with her usual shyke: a eating knife, her free flowing flask, and a map of Zeltiva.

Calla was keeping mostly to herself, ignoring the people around her. She usually like to people-watch, but these were all characters she'd seen before. An unexpectedly friendly voice broke through the monotony. Calla rotated her head slightly to look at the man standing a few stools down from her. She let out a light snort through her nose; whoever this man was, he clearly didn't know how this city worked. Rule number one of Zeltiva: niceties were checked at the door at the Kelp Bar. Greeting the bartender? Nothing screamed "outsider" quite as loud as that.

"Would you happen to know anyone familiar with the woods around these parts?" Except that. Calla snorted again. Sadly for the outsider, Leon was tending the bar. The old woman barely took notice of the man as she delivered beers to other patrons.

"Sure." Her voice droned. Leon rested her hands on the bar and looked the man dead-on. "Beer?" It was a question, but it also really wasn't. Kelp beer was pretty much the only thing on the menu here, and it was definitely the only thing Leon cared about. Calla took another sip of her own drink then leaned forward slightly over the bar. Where's this goin?

[Victor Flint]

Victor felt a bit rebuffed by the barkeep's attitude. Clearly it was not the service that drew people to the Kelp Bar. Perhaps it was the beer? Though kelp seemed a very.... unique choice for an alcoholic drink. He retrieved some coins from his belt pouch. The meager amount he had left was troubling, but the expense was needed to secure his future here. Despite not knowing the nilo-miza rate, Victor tried to project some confidence as he laid 1 gold miza on the counter. "Certainly. One kelp beer for me...", he said, pressing another one next to it, "...and one more to share with my new friend." He felt he was certainly overpaying, but the information, if useful, would balance out the surcharge, he calculated.

His suspicion was somewhat confirmed as the barwoman's eyes glinted briefly, before she snatched up the coins from her counter. She poured out two steins of Kelp beer, laying one in front of Victor. She then moved a few stools down and laid the second in front of the woman sitting there. "From the gentl'man", she said simply, tilting her head sharply in Victor's direction, before returning to her work. Somehow the word did not seem a compliment as she said it.

Victor grabbed his mug and ventured over to where the woman was sitting. What struck him first were the intricate tattoos on her arm, contrasting with her simple blouse, but certainly complementing the tattoos around her throat. When he had started his search a petite woman covered in tattoos was not who he had expected to find, but her air of ease and experience, despite her younger age, made him think that she was who he neededto find. He then noticed she already had a drink. "Oh, you already have a drink, perhaps we can put this one on your tab..."
"We don't do that here" came the barwoman's swift response, without even turning in Victor's direction. Definitely not the service.
He soldiered on. "I'm Victor. Would you mind if I joined you for a few chimes?"

[Calla Davin]

Calla kept a loose watch on the newcomer. One arm supported her head while the other cradled her drink on the bar. As he mentioned his new friend, Calla felt a little flush of jealousy. This man had clearly only been here for two ticks and he already had a friend. Calla casually peered over her shoulder, searching for the person this man was here for.

Behind her, Calla heard the distinct thud of a clunky mug being set down on the bar. Calla whipped around, shaking her hand. "Nooo," The courier droned slowly, like she was talking to a child or pet. "I'm barely gonna finish this one." Leon nodded her head to the outsider. The puzzle pieces in her head clicked, and Calla dropped her hand onto the bar. "Leon, I thought we were friends!" She called after Leon, but the woman kept going. Her presence was immediately replaced by the foreigner.

"We don't do that here." Calla replied in time with Leon. Her response was more reactionary than it was conversational. Calla wasn't sure whether the idea of tabs in this bar made her want to laugh or roll her eyes. This man really is fresh catch. As the man introduced himself, Calla didn't even contemplate giving him her own name for one tick. She often didn't give her names to people, especially when first meeting them. And when those strangers weren't from Zeltiva and just happened to want to take her into the woods? There was slim to no chance that this man was getting any information about her.

"I guess not." Calla leaned her left shoulder back so that her body was opened up. She took another drink from the beer, then set it down. "Bear in mind that I'm relaxin here. Don't stress me out." Calla didn't feel the need to threaten the man or otherwise intimidate him; his skin was pale and fresh, untouched by the sun or any visible ink. So he wasn't a sailor, waveguard, or anyone imposing. That did not mean, however, that she didn't keep her hand firmly latched to her mug. She wanted to have something to hit this weirdo with if he decided to do something...weird.

"You're new here, aren'tcha?" The courier wasn't covert as she looked the man up and down. Calla grabbed the other mug and refilled her original mug from it. The mug had a little over half left in it. She was not drinking two whole mugs of this shyke. Since Calla wasn't going to drink it and the man--Victor--had bought it, the next step seemed clear to Calla. "Well, here's your rite of passage." If he was trying to do something nefarious, Calla needed whatever advantage she could get. Calla pushed the remainder of the mug towards the man.

"Come back to me when you've finished." The woman flicked her eyes down to the partially full mug between them then turned back to the bar. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was over.

[Victor Flint]

Victor could feel that he was starting very low in the woman's estimation. She did not outright reject his presence, but she was certainly not accepting either. He took his first good look at Kelp Bar's singular brew. Appearance was less than appetising. Large kelp pieces floated in the murky concoction. As he brought it close to his face, a waft of saltiness assailed his senses. He shuddered involuntarily. Looking back to the woman, Victor could see from her body language that she really would not even consider his offer unless he passed her "test".

It can't taste too bad, he reasoned, everybody here is drinking and this bar only sells kelp beer. He raised his mug to his companion. "Cheers" he said, without feeling that emotion to any extent. He brought the brew to his lips and took a tentative gulp. The revolting shock to his senses caused him to cough the liquid straight back out. It tasted like brine with liberal amounts of alcohol added in. A ripple of mirth spread through the bar. People were paying more attention than he thought after all.

Victor looked to the woman again, accusingly this time, but he had felt from her initial statement that she would not budge. So, turning his annoyance into stubbornness, he grabbed the mug, raised it in a silent toast and resolved to down it. His taste buds and stomach protested wildly, but he persevered. After the first couple of gulps, he knew letting the foulness linger on his tongue was a mistake, and made sure to send the liquid straight to the back of his throat and down his gullet to minimize the assault on his taste.

Once he was done, he set the mug heavily on the counter. He took a moment to settle himself, aware of how perilously close he was to making a real fool of himself. Then, maintaining his composure as much as possible, he turned to the woman, "I have a proposal, which I think would benefit us both. Are you willing to listen to me now?"

[Calla Davin]

Calla's chest hung over the bar, putting the newcomer over her left shoulder. She looked down at her own mug as the man evaluated her proposal. She would have groaned, but she needed to pass her own citizenship test. She couldn't be weak by her own standards, especially not if this man wasn't.

"Back atcha." Calla tipped her mug back to the man then started to work at her now-full mug. A gulp later, the man next to her coughed. Calla nodded, speaking under her breath: "Me too, buddy. Me too." She wasn't talking to anyone in particular, more so commiserating over a shared awful experience.

Once the man slammed the mug onto the bar, Calla smiled and nodded. She shifted around, facing Victor once again. She wasn't sure if it was pride or smugness that she was feeling. On the one hand, Calla was impressed that anyone could down a kelp beer at that speed without hurling; she certainly wouldn't be able to do it. On the other hand, though, she felt immensely clever for devising such a simply elegant plan. She wondered what the applications of such a plan could be elsewhere...perhaps when she was feeling sluggish, she could hand out kelp beers to everyone so they wouldn't notice how slow her deliveries were. Now there's a petchin' plan! Calla enthusiastically--and completely genuinely--thought.

"Alright, Victor. I'm all ears." Calla replied. Her hand was still on the mug, a reminder of the lingering distrust she had for the stranger. She realized that her plan wouldn't immediately take hold; he had drank the beer quickly, but it still took a bit for the drunkenness to emerge. She wasn't sure why. This was just a fact of life: drunkenness never comes as fast as you want it to. What, then, could she do now?

Calla remembered the last time she had been approached my a strange man in this bar, and suddenly she knew what she had to do. She anticipated what seemed like pertinent questions to whatever his proposal was. It was in the woods, so she figured the first logical question was "what the petch are we doin out there?" She'd lead with that. Then, she'd hit him with the multitude of questions she was preparing as he talked. In this case, Calla's new mantra was simple: if you can't beat 'em, annoy the shyke out of them until they run away.

[Victor Flint]

Victor was glad to have the woman's attention, but that was only the very first step towards his goal for this meeting. To be completely honest, even that had been much more difficult than he had anticipated, so he was beginning to have serious doubts about his plan. Not to mention his throat and stomach were burning. Nevertheless.

"You probably noticed, but I am new to Zeltiva", he began his pitch.
"I'm a hunter by trade, but I need to know more about the woods around these parts to be able to do my job and not die. Now, I have been somewhat reliably informed" at this he tipped his head towards the bartender, "that you might be able to help me with that. Is that so?"

"O' course you would be paid for this, in either coin or, in like, meat from my hunting." Victor paused. Was it getting a bit hot in this Sylir-forsaken bar? He could feel fine beads of sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He rubbed them away unconsciously. When did his mouth start tingling? He looked across at... who?

"And what's your petchin' name anyway?"

Victor was getting quite drunk.

[Calla Davin]

Calla laughed heartily. "No, no I hadn't noticed that at all." She shook her head and then took a sip. Out of caution, she slowed her intake. Her head was already beginning to feel a little fuzzy, and her arms had started to tingle with pre-drunken warmth.

"Reliably informed?" Calla lifted an eyebrow. "By who? Leon?" The courier jabbed her head in the direction of the elderly bar owner. "What'd she say? Cause I bet it was a petchin lie." Calla looked at her mug, then pushed it forward and away from her. After a pause, she spoke again. "Depends on what you count as help."Although she had stopped drinking, the woman was about a mug deep. This wasn't enough to cause her to be drunk, per se, but it was enough to get her to that weird beginning phase of intoxication. As such, her normal voice gave way to her father's accent: that of a sailor. Her words were slightly drawn out, but they came stacked on top of each other.

"Miza's fine." She replied as Victor offered to pay. Although, she found it questionable that he talked about pay before he even knew what she could do for him. To Calla, that meant he was gullible. Vulnerable. If this stranger really was only looking for help, Calla was going to make sure she got everything she could out of it. "Although, where I come from, that's a thing you talk about once we have a deal."

Calla noted that he asked for her name and made a distinct point to ignore him. Instead, she unleashed her questions in an attempt to distract him. "So how long you lookin' to be in the woods for?" Calla began, leaving a pause for his answer. Then, she quickly jumped into another line of questioning. "Where you from, anyway? How do I know you're who you say are, Victor? And what exactly do you envision happenin' on this trip? I dunno if I'm ready to up and go campin' with some stranger who has no idea what he's doin."