[Pig's Foot] Pigs Don't Drink (Closed)

[Ulric]

 

68th of Summer, 512 AV

“Talk is cheap.” Ulric’s lips gave a twitch. Boils just groaned, curling around squashed fruits. Rafters skewed over them like dingy spines, affixed by rusty nails to the jut of strakes. Plaster flaked and crumbled, festooned by stains and in the lowest, darkest places, knobs of fungi. “There’s talkers, and then there’s talkers. That’s what you are, my ugly.” Ulric jeered. Kneeling by the puddle of barf, he jabbed a metal thumb into ribs. Boils disliked that, judging from his jerky whimper, the scrabble of palms. Just as he’d taken umbrage at his tilt of dirtied jaw, horridly swelling over missing molars.

His gums squished redly.

Ulric lifted a plated elbow, let it crack on the ribs. Boils shrieked again, tried to roll away over the untidy debris blanketing rotten, weevily planks. Ulric shifted impatiently, utterly disgusted by the thug’s visage, skin studded by weeping pustules that conjured up thoughts of leeches. “If talk is cheap, that makes you a slut,” he growled. “I don’t like you, but I think you might’ve realized that. If you have, by some miracle, then you’ll also realize that I take unkindly to bags of wind. I similarly despise your trembling.”

Harshly rising, he underscored his disapproval with a final, nasty kick. Trudges sluggishly from under the gutted rafter, out into the dirty, bustling lanes. “If you call me a knight again, much less a poxy knight, I’ll grind your skull to jelly.”

The sun glared.

Ulric jostled through the throng, scarcely paying any attention as he made for the familiar enormity of the Pig’s Foot. This wasn’t very difficult. There were certain perks to being large, and this was one of them. Thick layers of pocked plate, scales, and leather clanked and jangled under his inky glare. Boils just hadn’t gotten the signal, unfortunately.

Cunt.

Before Ulric, the Pig’s Foot shoved unsteadily from the shacks, all slovenly beams and shingles bearded by moss. Beacon to vagrants and idlers, all shifting to quarrel up through miasmic rot. Shoving by the sagging portal, he regarded the gloomy taproom. Straw on the planks. Dirt over the straw, and  under it gnawed bones. More dirt, too. Soaked in spilled liquor. Off in a far corner, a cadre of burly, strapping women inhabited the benches around a trestle. They’d clubs and worse by their sides, and tall pitchers they poured incessantly in clay mugs, laughing coarsely. The lot of them loudly jeering, looking over the relatively deserted planks.

Ulric left them to their devilry, trenchantly cutting to the bar. This he leaned upon with rugged familiarity, affixing a grin over the other side. Reaching under his ringmail, he divulged a fist bulging with metal discs. Stacked them nearly before him, a knoll of molten gold. “Do it,” he grunted, wagging his thumb to indicate that he was buying for everybody. Inwardly, he’d already mulled over the risks, the certainty that this display of affluence would make him a magnet for thugs, or worse.

But maybe that’s what he wanted. 

The kind of men raised for killing don’t get bored of killing. They get bored waiting for shykers to kill. 

[Kreig Messer]

Ah the Pig's Foot it brought fond memories of a small incident last winter in a different bar that was another favorite haunt for Kreig. A giant brawl of fun fun fun, and a few deaths but eh, who cares? Kreig only caused one? But another death lamented, the death of a child on his hands was unforgettable and moving on from such an event was very difficult, near impossible in fact. From a stool he looked at the gent who bought everyone drinks, reminded him of the late of the Crimson edge although that man had bought considerably more than just a round 'Still a kind yet stupid gesture, now every greedy scum in the bar would be aiming for his money' But he suspected that the man knew that, there was an unmistakable air around him, albeit a tad intimidating it wasn't something to fear, Kreig could match it easily.


one thing to note about the man was that he was an unfamiliar face, Kreig spent enough times in these taverns to differentiate the faces he see, sure they all looked the same but it wasn't hard to spot out the new ones 'Hmmm....I don't know if he is new though, could have passed here a number of times, always a possibility that one' he thought as he rested his head on his hand, looking a tad depressing but a bit better than montsh ago where he seemed deader than the dead.


Standing up from his stool he moves towards the gent, taking a seat next to him and just stared slightly, a bit of a frown on his face and inquisitive eyes "Generous thing you did there dear gent, but may I ask the question why?" It reminded him of the large brawl that started out similarly last winter and thus could help but ask. He didn't know of the mans prowess but he seemed to have shed more blood than most here and so he did not want to aggrivate him 'Although it would have been a fun prospect' A bloody one albeit.

[Jahssasyuri]

The group of people that dotted across the streets merged and dispersed ; flowing water channels resembled this movement. Snake charms adorned across the collarbone, finesse and beauty was exemplified with each step taken by Yuri. Slight glances left and right caught men staring while their wives began sowing seeds of jealously, taken aback from the appearance of such a marriage-breaker.

Thankfully, Yuri had no interest in vile men and meaningless quarrels. Her mind was more focused on getting to the Pig's Foot, form new contacts and catch the eye of interesting individuals. The store and markets weren't heavily busy but stealthy movement was still busy. Always have to watch your back, eh?

Quick scan of the area before entering, the atmosphere of the Pig's Foot wasn't anything out of the ordinary for a tavern. One or two drunk fools were having a good laugh, gambling between friends and strangers to find their own fortune. Rumors and gossip flourished in this environment, alliances created and bonds broken. Fine place for an assassin.

Finding an empty table in a corner near the actual counter top for ordering, she had a fair assessment and view of the entire tavern. A few minutes later after quiet observance, a man who seemed a battle veteran entered through the doors. He bought beer for everyone. Not usual at all for Yuri, but it was a laid trap for small-time thieves.

"I wonder whos his friend..." whispered to herself as another man tried to start a conversation with the warrior, so she sat back, relaxed and awaited her own opportunity to approach.

[Kon]

Kon steps inside the bar merely a moment or two after Ulric's decision to buy a round, and at first things seem just a little off to him. He notes that quite a few of the patrons look to be in a good mood about something, and quite a lot of attention seems to have been drawn to the largely unpleasant looking man at the bar. Given the hungry nature of a few of those looks, it wasn't too difficult to discern what had just happened.

He stops to adjust the shortsword on his waist and take a few moments longer to observe the place. Then the Inarta makes his way towards the bar as well,having a seat next to Kreig. He gives the two men a short nod and chuckles to himself. "From the looks of things I arrived just a mite too late, huh? Ah well, can't have good fortune all the time."

Kon scratches his chin and reaches for his pockets. He withdraws a small pouch from which he pulls a few mizas. Putting the pouch back and setting the mizas on the bar, he asks for a hunk of bread, some of whatever meat happens to be freshest at the moment, and some ale. He surveys the tavern again, betting himself today would be more eventful than usual. Wrapping his scarf around his neck one more time to keep it from hanging so loosely- just in case somebody should start something- he sets to his meal. If he were to be completely honest with himself, right now he's simply glad that somebody else has made himself an obvious target, and Kon is free to relax just a little for once.

[Ulric]

Ulric lifted a jug, surveying the badly chipped rim, pearls of humidity gathering at its bottom. This jug’d evidently been slopped around by hogs, and he relished its blemishes. They hinted of hard use. Tilting it to his lips, he gulped with a mechanical precision. The point of drinking is drinking, he figured, even if it was a barrel’s bitter dregs.



Presently, one of the provincial rowdies approached him. This was a brilliant signal. The man was shorter than he was, and thinner, with tufted hair like straw. There were also metal gauntlets. thinner, with tufted hair like straw and metal gauntlets. Ulric grinned, fractionally jerking his jaw at them. “Those for pulping faces?” They conjured up messy, yet pleasing reflections of his youth.

There was a leonine crawling over his face, a ruthless glint of jeering. This clearly wasn’t a fitting locale to offer up casks of booze. There’d have to be a catch. There was was catch. 

Didn’t mean he was sharing. “Because I can,” he admitted, which was partially right. “Because I’d like to display to these vagiks that I’m richer than they’ll ever be, and they don’t have the ball to try and get it. That’s why,” he shrugged.

Scritch, scratch. Ulric’s gimlets looked down, finding a podgy rat scuttling by his heel. Snorting at its presence, spilled more of the jug over its stringy hide until it vanished down a hole. There was another rowdy by him, then. Those flaming locks just made him grumpy, thinking of all the days he’d wasted in that blasted volcano, over on the far side of the world.

“Fortunes are for witches and old, jowly misers,” he grunted, with a shake of metal. Ulric scuffed the jug over timbers so it rested in front of Kon, simultaneously perceiving that he’d garnered the scrutiny of a girl whose slitted lids peered over clacking trinkets. “Booze is for us,” Ulric finished, knitting his hands into a lewd gesture at the girl.

Absently, he wondered if she was a floozy, and if she’d be receptive to a tumble. There wasn’t any use in her sitting there, looking pretty.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” he looked at the men. “It’s fair to say that everybody I knew is gone, their demises bringing a new pecking order. I’d like to know who stands where, and if their dogs are running wild.”

Again, he grinned. “In other words, I’d like to know who to piss off. First.” 

[Kreig Messer]

'Dangerous Fella....I like him' Kreig declared mentally as he gave a weak grin and took a cup of ale and took a deep gulp of it "Because you can? Those are words I've heard quite enough dear sir, nothing new if you can't back it up, but..... you look to be the sort who can' He chuckled taking down another deep swig. Another dreg with the Miza's and thinks he can do something 'An interesting sort, albeit somewhat dreary looking to be honest' he thought of him "An' these fists of mine have seen more fights than yours apparently,


"Hmm... I'd say most have stayed the same, The Sun's Berth are still here and still locked up in their little 'gated community' filling their pockets with Miza. Their lovely little dogs still have fangs that rip the common thug into small bits of paper.Lovely lads if you ask me' The Sun's berth were the longest running gain, their pockets are deep and their enforcers, the Dragoons, were skilled and dangerous, one or two could possibly take out an entire small gang.


"The Daggerhands are the bastards who want to take over the city, their boss Robern I think his name was, I hear is a lovely little man with a great many friends" Kreig said, friends were actually the number of dregs under his control, the Daggerhands had numbers, which was undeniable. The skills of the thugs were a cut above the common dregs but far below that of the Dragoons 'as far as I know anyhoo'


"And the the last little bugges are the ones I know nothing about, The Night Eyes. If I knew a single thing about them then I'd know more than everyone in this room. Only thing thats for sure is they're real and they're dagerous" He chuckled, by this time his mug was near empty "Either I'm growing a tolerance or they've been watering this" Again he chuckled, then frowned "Eh, now I'm getting depressed again. So why piss off these three slices of cheese? Boredome? Fun? Just so you can again?' Maybe he was bit more intoxicated then he thought.

[Jahssasyuri]

The content of their conversation was intriguing and suited her tastes ; licking her lips in a circular motion as she began thinking her own plan to out-wit these men. Bound to drink more than their fill of heavy mead or hard liquor, if they could afford, some type of influence would cloud their better judgement. Twitching her ears, her focus was solely on the banter of these two. Hopefully, information would be abundant in this encounter, or a chance would present itself available later afterwards. Smirking with a thoughtful giggle, rising interest made Yuri satisfied.

"Buying drinks cause he can, to show off his power ? Fearless ; Brave ; or stupid I can't pick an option. Human men these days haven't been anything special nowadays. If you have met one, you have met them all," thought Yuri, nails tapping with rhythm against the wooden table, the chatter and loud bellowing drowning out the sound. It was just a misunderstanding that almost turned into a scuffle, the usual. After it calmed down, tidbits of the conversation were made available. All she heard were gangs that no one would like to cross on any given day and especially night ; Nighteyes and the other lowlifes.

Breathing in and out to recollect her thoughts, jumping to conclusions wasn't classy. A more reasonable approach would be that he either wants to know who to stay away from, who to call comrades and who to piss off. Whether this was true is all of Yuri's thinking, but she was trying to calculate any possibility to give her an edge. Time ran out for her, a not-so-cute gesture was made in her direction. Wry smile masking her "distaste", slowly she turned from under the table before standing up. Facing the men, a third one appeared on her way there, five steps at best.

"A glass of milk please," the snake woman ordered, slits looking Ulric dead in the eye as she turned. Sizing him up for a few moments would most likely be a futile endeavor, but she'd like to not come off as a common whore. "So, need help finding out about any gangs? I like eavesdropping and such on men who have seen battle. Shield-brothers are hard to come by, worthy ones anyway."

[Kon]

Tearing off a bite of whatever meat ended up in front of him- Kon couldn't really be bothered to determine what it happens to be- he glances towards the two men once more. He also raises an eyebrow at the strange woman. Swallowing, he grins. "Well, whatever his reasons, he's got a gift for drawing attention to himself."

The Inarta reaches for the drink and scratches his chin. Whatever odd company he's found himself in, if he listens he might pick up something useful. Besides, these people had drawn his interest- not that that's a particularly hard feat when it comes to Kon, but still.

Of particular interest at this point to him are the two furthest from him, Ulric and the woman. The man he'd taken a spot next to was easy enough to figure out- a fighter, perhaps a bit more bloodthirsty than Kon himself, but still clear enough to get a basic grasp of- assuming he was right. The others just make Kon want to scratch his head. Potential reasons for Ulric wanting to draw such attention were easy enough to guess at, but the Inarta can't for the life of him pick which is most likely. As for the woman... something just seems off about her. He can't quite place it, but her presence simply makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He takes a deep breath to slow his thoughts and return his attention to his surroundings rather than guessing at the nature of strangers. Cracking another grin, he swallows and speaks again. "What an interesting crowd today. Good to see somebody who's willing to risk his neck for a good time, eh? Unusual sight around here, least as far as I've seen. Course, from the looks of you I'd say you wouldn't have much to worry about unless half the bar came at you at once." He reaches for his drink once more and nods- either in thanks or as if confirming his own analysis.

[Ulric]

Harshly, the fiery grate crackled and offered up a noxious, belching puff. Didn’t really matter. Everything was acrid, flakes of ash sifting under split planks. Ulric disregarded the remaining jugs. They didn’t appeal to him, really. Barley dregs, despite any tinges of honey, weren’t equivalent to all the shabby wines he’d guzzled during his ramblings in chimera. Eventually, pretense had sloughed from that stay. There had to be something more, which was precisely why he’d arrived.

Even here, dregs could climb.

Ulric bided by Kreig, not so brashly buoyed that he’d neglect the rumors he needed to decide how he’d deliberate. Yoked in by the drifting synopsis of mafiosi, he was cognizant of gears grinding in his head. “Dalagar desires supremacy, then,” he ventured, “The Sun Birth swells their coffers by virtue of their palisades and steel, while the Night Eyes hide under a night’s tarpaulin. Affluence, Dragoons, Brutality, Blades, and Secrecy, jointly finagling ascendancy.”

Grunting, he inclined his chin. “One’ll gain, the others will find themselves in pretty pickle,” he replied to Kreig.

Jahssasyuri’s arrival, though steeped by the uncertainty that she was painted woman, was appreciated. Ulric twisted his jaw to the right, and then in the conflicting direction so his bones rattled. Affixed her with a gaze that glittered dully, like a pair of ingots. Appraising her. “Eavesdropping, in my experience, only gets you killed badly, but maybe you’ve a way of worming out of it,” he grunted. “That you’ve not got a red grin must signify that you’ve picked up a few things. That is good for me, and perhaps for you.”

Already, squabbles were breaking over the remaining jugs. Unkind japes and hard looks, mostly. Ulric expected as much, had even engineered it, but he felt a pulsing edginess, growing in these crowded confines. The quarrels wouldn’t come to a head for a while, until the many jugs’d been quaffed. Kon received a grin.

“Whole, not half,” Ulric replied, without bragging. “We’ll not see that unless anything unpleasant happens, but I’ve resolved to wait for that necessary distraction, and depart in pursuit of a little job.” Shifting as he regarded the little cluster of them, the shield laced over his spine made him look vaguely like a tortoise. “If you’d like to lift a tidy bit of gold, I won’t begrudge having any of you around for the lucrative portions.” 

[Kreig Messer]

The man had a way with words, that was for sure 'Refreshing to hear so rarely heads words in a conversation, albeit some are quite confusing if I hadn't at least understood what they are supposed to mean' The man looked "If a disturbance to such a fine balance were to occure, change will occur once more.... Blood will flow on the streets, probably a considerable amount of backstabbing and attempts on ones life.......should keep a person busy for quite a while" then came the Woman, admitting her interest in possibly teaming up with the generous buyer of alcohols "Quite upfront miss, you sound desperate too be honest" Kreig chuckled, it would have been better if she implied rather than outright admit to be the type who likes to gather information. The generous gent however seemed to have an ever so slight interest in seeing if she's worth her salt.



Then spoke the other gent, an Inarta, who was besides them. Apparently impressed, or amused that the generous one put himself at risk. Then remarking that once the other dregs begin to quarrel over the remaining jugs a brawl would occure and their focus would be on the generous provider "Sounds like a fun endeavor, anything to keep me busy will remove all this excess time I see to have " And to keep a certain thing far from his mind.