PM to join [The Silver Sliver] Drinking in the Dark (Fitch)

[Dumo Groneaud]

There was a long moment of silence until the sailor impolitely slammed his palm on the table to call the barmaid. This last mug of ale had made Dumo nauseous, he could no longer bear any more alcohol, so he refused when she approached to refill his mug. Perhaps it was time for him to go home and process the information. Not all is lost. It doesn't mean they are dead, he thought, the sailor mentioned refugees, which means not all are dead. A new idea to place his desperate hopes in was something that could give him some comfort. His parents were by no means weak, he only worried about his sister, but she had better health the last time they'd met, and he knew of her dreams of studying in Zeltiva. Maybe she is still there, safer than what I can imagine.

He noticed how the sailor quickly swallowed the contents of another mug, and could only wonder how many more he could take. Dumo himself already felt funny under the effects of alcohol, and surely the man was just as drunk.

He noticed how the sailor was about to leave after taking a few steps, only to fall back on his chair. Dumo thought it could only be alcohol guiding his steps, but then he glanced with discretion at the two men who had seemed to change Fitch's plans. He turned back to the sailor, who clearly tried his best to find stealth under that arrogant shadow.

"Fitch," he said, "is there a problem? Do you know those men?"

The sailor's name echoed inside of the walls of the establishment, somehow much louder than Dumo had intended to make it be. He could only question what had happened to his soft-spoken voice when hearing it travel loudly in the air, and the word seemed to reach the men's ears with ease, as they now stared curiously at the table, visibly struggling with their eyes to see the man in behind the shadows.

Petch it, I can't control my tongue under these conditions.

OOCSorry, I am a bit short of ideas.

[Fitch]

Fitch quickly grabbed the kid's arm in attempt to get him to shut up but it was to late. He could feel the men's gaze on the back of his head. He groaned knowing he had to make his escape. Reaching his hand out towards the mug across the table he waited for the men to approach.

The two men were two brother sailor's Fitch had ran into a few months ago when he was docked in Avanthal, they must have heard he had docked here now. Fitch had gambled off more than he could afford before his employers had paid him and now owed quite a large amount of money to the two men after the ship had abandoned him without pay.

Fitch noticed Dumo's danger, and returned his gaze to the kid. "You know how to use that?" Perhaps the conversation with the kid hadn't been for nothing. The kid seemed to be much more suited for a fight than the skinny old man was.

The men moved their way towards the table as if they were tigers stalking their pray, though obviously not as graceful as they stomped all the way over. One of them put his hand on Fitch's shoulder though before he could get a word out Fitch swung the mug into the side of the man's face. Unfortunately the mug took more damage than the man's head, though it did serve to stun him in confusion that Fitch had actually attempted that. Fitch dropped the mug and attempted to dash for it but was quickly cut off by the man's brother who grabbed a hold of the back of Fitch's collar and tossed him on to the table before pinning him down with one of his large bear-like hands.

Fitch closed his eyes and turned his head away preparing to be hit but the man only seemed to be amused by it. "You dout think we're just gonna to let you slip through are fingers again dig'cha? The man said in an extremely illiterate accent, which almost hurt Fitch's ears, who was extremely well educated. "No, but I did expect you and your dear brother there to have gotten into an intellectual conversation with a post before you got to me ." He said in an arrogant insulting tone but the brother's didn't seem to pick up on the insult and only shrugged it off.