[Pig's Foot Tavern] Askin' For It (Nellie)

[Robinson Gilli]

Date

7th of Fall 514 A.V., 18th Bell.

The Pig’s Foot Tavern was one of the most popular pubs for people to get fill their bellies and wet their lips. Its patrons were the usual rowdy sort you’d find all over Sunberth, nothing unusual about them really. Many could be easily riled, easily duped or easily amused; Overall they were simple but dangerous folk who wished to rest after a busy day’s work. The Pig’s Foot offered that air of relaxation, and while Brawl’s were frequent they caused little collateral damage lest the offenders wished to face the wrath of the tavern’s proprietor.

Robin had been sitting on a stool with his arms resting against the bar counter, cradling a mug of watered down ale with an empty soup bowl next to him that previously contained stock. It was a meager meal but it filled Robin’s belly well enough as he rested his weary mind. It seemed to him that Sunberth was growing more and more violent with each season….And in Sunberth that was saying something! Of course even that was not a surprise in a city that prided itself in its absolute lack of order and its ‘freedom’ ‘ makes for plenty of job opportunities, ah suppose….’ He took a light swig of his ale, his back turned to the hustle and bustle behind him.

He was armed with only his battle axe this day, letting it hang lazily from a loop. He couldn’t very well bring his longbow with him….for one thing it would have made people nervouse, a weapon of that size usually elicited fear after all ‘Not that I would have the advantage anyway’ That was the other thing, in a tavern filled with people if he ended agitating them then he would have had a useless weapon. After all, he couldn’t shoot everyone quickly at close range with a bow that took plenty of shoulder strength to pull.

In any case the Axe was more than enough, if he were to end up in a situation where he needed to use it inside the tavern then his battle axe would be the best weapon for the job. Still, it didn’t seem likely that he would use it in the tavern this day, which made him breath easily as he enjoyed his ale.

‘ What could go on anyway that would get me involved?

[Nellie Hawkins]

Nellie stuck the small stack of mizas into her pack with a satisfied smile; Merv was her favorite customer. He was a gruff old man, utterly devoted to his tavern and its general safety. What that actually meant was that the violence that periodically erupted was typically ended fairly quickly and did not involve chairs or mugs flying through the air.

Still, it paid to be aware, and Nellie's eyes scanned the crowd continually as she made her way between tables and patrons of varying levels of sobriety. While she paid attention to the general crowd, though, she'd neglected to notice a boot planted quite firmly in her path. Stumbling rather spectacularly over the boot and landing in the lap of its owner, Nellie couldn't quite contain the curse that flew to her lips: "Petch!"

But her 'victim' wasn't nearly as distressed by her landing as she was, and Nellie felt a rock-solid arm clamp around her waist, effectively pinning her in place. Half sprawled over the table and half on the stranger's lap, Nellie felt her face flame with embarrassment and immediately began struggling to get up, feeling the viselike grip of her captor grow even tighter, digging into the bone of her hip.

"What's this then? Come ta cozy up ta ol' Sef, 'ave ya?" The voice was rough, the words slurred more than a little. 'Ol' Sef' seemed to have been enjoying himself for quite awhile already, and Nellie fervently hoped he was a man who handled his ale with good humor.

"Oy! Let me up, ya petcher!" She put as much venom into her voice as possible, giving a decent impression confidence despite her unfortunate position. "Yer 'urtin' me, leave off an' go back t'yer ale, a'ready! Merv!"

Though she called for the owner, Nellie knew he was unlikely to get involved. It wasn't that he didn't care, though he most likely didn't; but her struggle was in no way threatening his precious tavern, and Merv saw no reason to get involved in petty brawls unless they threatened his livelihood. So, she could either break a table, or hope that one of the other patrons in attendance had a chivalrous streak in his body. Nellie knew better than to hold her breath for either.

The foreign feeling of a rough hand creeping over her backside fueled her temper and Nellie kicked her legs in outrage. Trapped as she was, there was little she could do to even make a good show of fighting the man off, a fact the man seemed to have grasped quickly.

"'Ere, now, jes' sit still, there's a good girl. Ain't much to ya, but we c'n still be chummy, ey?" The bitter stench of ale and rancid meat drifted to her nose along with the words, and Nellie couldn't tell which turned her stomach more. In desperation, she cast her eyes around for help in any form. The only thing near to hand was her new boyfriend's mug of ale and Nellie reached for it, missing the handle but upending the contents and watching helplessly as the amber liquid foamed across the table, creeping dangerously close to the edge.

When it hit the man's lap, soaking them both in the process, the brute finally reacted, roaring his offense.

"You li'l bitch! You'll pay fer that one," the words were loud, but they weren't what frightened her. A crowd was gathering, blocking them from view - and anyone who would have been moved to help her. At the first stinging contact of the man's hand on her rear, Nellie cried out, eyes watering. Her reaction seemed to amuse most of the onlookers and her abuser took it as encouragement and two more bruising smacks swiftly followed the first.

[Robinson Gilli]

Date

Robin was quite well into his ale now, watered down as it were it didn’t fail to ease his spirits. Watered down ale of course didn’t have cause one to go drunk fast, ye’d have to be pretty weak to not even handle a sip, and for Robin who found it wise to be sober when by his lonesome appreciated the beverage. He supposed that other than the fact it was dangerous to get drunk alone, which was also a bit sad, the fact that it would affect his work if he had a contract lined up on the same day.

He would have enjoyed it a little longer, it was a small pleasure after all and you’ve got to enjoy those small pleasures whenever you can. But the new noise damnably ruined it for him as his ears picked up the call of a distressed damsel ‘quite the vulgar words’ He thought quietly, it was obvious Merv wasn’t going to do much about it, as far as most knew Merv cared for only his bar and whatever he had in that private life of his. So much as harm the bar and ye’ve got one of the city’s best brawlers on yer arse quicker than a starved wolf eating a carcass.

Robinson himself just wanted the annoying sound to stop, there was a rare peace going about and some damnable petcher just had to PETCHING ruin it! He picked himself up from his seat, leaving his half emptied mug unattended and hoping for a bit it would be untouched by some drunken lout. Still…it was a cheap drink so either way it wasn’t much of a loss ‘ Might drink another anyway…’ He approached the crowd who watched with amusement. Using his thumb he cracked most of his right hand’s knuckles, he supposed he was fortunate that the man was busy delivering his disgusting slaps to the poor girl’s rump. As he passed between the wall of spectators, he was standing the closest to the man’s left side.

Before he had done anything to the drunk, he had realized that what he might do might have some consequences. Sure with a single blindsided punch compounded by his strength would probably send the drunk to la la land, but usually it took a single punch to spark somethin’ big. ‘Eh, why not?’ In th end, with little to now hesitation he threw a wild, untrained, punch at the drunk’s head. The resulting crack of fist on skull resonated throughout the bar and silenced the spectators as the drunkard dropped to the ground unconsciously.

Robin shook his hand a bit as the punch had hurt his fingers, he wasn’t much of a bare fisted after all. Lucky enough that he didn’t break any fingers, that would have made his job as a merc harder. He turned to the crowd as he ran his hand through his hair, making it look like a man who had just woken from his nap “Ken we get ta drinkin’ now?” He lazily asked but waited for no answer as he returned to his mug with the slight hope that everythin’ would go back ta normal.

[Nellie Hawkins]

She braced herself, eyes squeezed shut, and body tensed for the expected blow that never came. Vaguely she registered the growing silence of the crowd, laughter descending into quieter, more anticipatory giggles, though she had no idea why. Fearing that Ol' Sef had devised some new form of painful humiliation, she began her struggles anew, only to be unceremoniously dumped on the floor, where she was quickly joined by the now-unconscious Sef.

Disbelief and relief warred within her, and her confusion must have been clearly written on her face. The crowd paid no attention, however, grumbling only because their most recent entertainment had been so rudely interrupted. Nellie, for her part, shared no measure of their disappointment. Picking herself up from the sticky, ale-soaked floor, she swung her gaze wildly around, settling dark eyes on an unfamiliar man standing, mostly upright, near Sef's former perch.

As she watched, the man addressed the crowd at large and began to pick his way back through the throng of spectators to a seat at the bar, where he promptly began drinking - again? Nellie couldn't be sure, but his rash, if welcome, intervention and his general unsteadiness seemed to imply he'd been in his cups for awhile. Jeers and taunts flew her way as she hesitated over Sef's prone form, but no one made a move to further harass her; glancing with disgust at Sef's bulk, Nellie landed a harmless kick to his shin, smiling thinly at the satisfaction even that small retribution brought her, before stepping hurriedly away from the drunken lout.

The door to the street beckoned her temptingly, it would be wonderful to get out of the close confines of the tavern, but Nellie couldn't bring herself to be quite cold enough to leave without at least thanking her rescuer. With a resigned sigh and a good deal of trepidation, she made her way over to the dark haired stranger's side and stood there awkwardly for a tick, before uttering a rather ungracious greeting:

"Hi - 'ello?" She cleared her throat, trying to penetrate the noise of the tavern and the man's ale-influenced haze. "I jus' - well, thank ya. 'At was gettin' rather... Unpleasant." Nellie's cheeks flamed, and she fought with the very strong desire to crawl into a hole somewhere as the realization of what had happened sunk in. She'd been spanked. In the Pig's Foot. In plain sight. How was she ever going to face Merv over a business transaction again? Her hand went unbidden to the sorest part of her, and she winced in pain and embarrassment.

[Robinson Gilli]

Date

Robin was about indulge himself deeply into his drink when he heard the voice of the lass he had helped just a chime earlier, this caused him to think of the earlier incident and he chuckled silently to himself ‘ I was lucky….incredibly lucky came the silent thoughts, while it was true if he hadn’t interfered she probably would have been in a far worse situation soon enough….he could have also brought on a situation where blood would have been shed and bodies would have sprawled, more importantly Merv would have probably been involved if even a mug was destroyed…..Yes, he was indeed lucky ‘ I need another drink’ He then turned his head to the lass and nodded to aknowledge her thanks ‘ She looked like she needed a drink, too’ He supposed he could show further kindness, not like he was short for money after all.

He raised his hand with two fingers extended, signaling to Merv to bring in two more mugs. More watered down ale of course, he didn’t plan on getting smashed after all though he did look a little bit tipsy, the second mug would have been for the girl of course and he supposed she might not plan on getting drunk yet as well. He picked up his current mug and emptied its content s with a final gulp before slamming it on the bar counter and taking a sharp breath ‘ Watered down or not, still damn good…’ He silently motioned for the girl sit if she so wished and he said as much “If you wish?”

If she was seen with him then it was probable that later on they would ignore her, a small probability of course but if it would discourage any more fools from causing some annoying sound then it would have been quite worth it. He turned again to look at the girl, she was average height for a girl and she seemed to be quite ordinary looking, life in Sunberth had left its effect on her of course like the vast majority…even he himself had been marked, especially in a city where food shortages tended to be so common. With a loud clank Merv had set the two new mugs and took away Robin’s empty, the merc had taken his drink and took a quick swig of it before motioning for the lass to take one for herself.

“Drink if ye wish it, might ferget yer recent trouble”

[Nellie Hawkins]

Nellie eyed the seat next to her rescuer, hesitant to sit so soon after her ordeal, but unwilling to be rude to the man - the only person - who'd gone out of his way to help her. Instead of sitting immediately, she stepped nearer to the chair and simply stood there, trying to come up with a polite way to decline the invitation. She'd gotten as far as opening her mouth and taking a step back, still unsure what would come out, when she met the man's gaze again.

He was studying her, and not subtly; Nellie's chin lifted in unconscious challenge as she returned his gaze. What she saw was unremarkable; a scruffy man with the lean angularity of most people in Sunberth. Nothing that would make him stand out as a routine savior of the downtrodden and harassed. Her own words stuck in her throat and the silence continued. Nellie began to feel awkward under the man's continued inspection.

The loud arrival of Merv, bearing two cups of - something - broke her mounting tension, and Nellie shifted her attention to the bar gratefully. 'Mug,' she mentally corrected herself, as the man had wasted no time claiming one and drinking before offering her the other. Impulsively, Nellie perched on the chair and reached for the remaining mug.

"Eh, I'd ferget it just in time fer a new one to crop up, more'n likely," she remarked dryly, cradling the mug in both hands. Her shoulders were hunched from long time habit, a posture designed to make herself take up as little space as possible, and therefor be as unnoticeable as she could. Sniffing delicately at the contents, Nellie wrinkled her nose. This wasn't Merv's best ale and she wondered if the man knew or if he'd be upset if she told him. Flicking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, she decided to leave well enough alone.

After all, if there was one lesson she'd had ample time to learn in the 'berth, it was that beggars quite literally could not be choosers. The man was buying this swill, and Nellie was drinking it - watery or not. Putting action to thoughts, she lifted the mug and took a generous gulp, managing not to make too much of a face at the taste; 'Barely any ale in 'ere. An' he looks like 'e's enjoyin' it.

Bemused, Nellie offered the man a nod, "Thanks. m'Nellie, by th' way. Glad ta meet ya." At least that was the honest truth; shifting to a more comfortable position on the seat, she winced a bit at her lingering soreness. "Very glad."

[Robinson Gilli]

Date

Robin couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at her reaction to the ale, yes it definitely wasn’t Merve’s good stuff but unless they wanted to get drunk then the best stuff would have to wait. He noted that it was quite obvious she wasn’t used to drinking the watered down stuff, she’d get quickly used to it if she drunk it with regularity. ‘Though probably should get her an actual ale next time, if she be interested anyway’ Still, he appreciated her politeness in not tellin’ him it was shyke. Most others wouldn’t have hesitated to call it shyke unless they think they’ll be getting another free drink.

He nodded at her thanks and at her name and supposed it would have been a respectful thing to offer his in return “Robinson…” He simply muttered as he too another sip of his ale before gently placing it back on the counter. From the corner of his eye he saw her wince slightly as she tried to find a comfortable way to sit upon the stool, he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at that as he shook his head “Need not be glad fer meetin’ me, was jus’ tryin’ to put a stop to somethin’ annoying” He turned to look at the lass again with a sheepish smile “Kind of like the place when it ain’t so noisy” He admitted before taking another sip.

“ ‘sides, I probably could have made it worse. Merv would ‘ave a fit with me if what I did caused somethin’ of his ta be broken” He also admitted his rashness as he turned to look at the bartender who simply grunted in acknowledgment of the fact…. He resumed his silence as he took another sip, but found he couldn’t quite keep it so and began speaking again “So….what is it that ye do, if ye don’ mind me askin’?”

[Nellie Hawkins]

She nodded in quiet agreement, cutting a glance at Merv. Though she knew he was only concerned with the safety of his bar, she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit bitter that the man, normally one of her favorite people to do business with, had been perfectly willing to let her have the stuffing smacked out of her right in the middle of his tavern. In an effort to keep from airing her personal complaint directly to the cause, she braved another small sip of watery ale and studiously ignored the barkeep in favor of her companion.

In spite of his professed preference for quiet, it seemed even her new acquaintance felt the pressure to be polite. Nellie didn't mind the idle chat; it was rare to meet a person willing to put themselves in the line of conflict for a stranger, regardless of the reasons behind it. Sunberth tended to beat that instinct out of you, quite literally, and it was always somehow reassuring to realize that the city failed from time to time. Those 'failures' were worth the effort of polite conversation.

"I fish. An' dig fer clams. Sell 'em to people like our 'ost, 'ere," she tossed a mildly unhappy glance in Merv's direction, which quickly morphed into a grin when she realized the old shyke was looking in her direction. "Best customer, 'e is." Raising her mug in mock seriousness, she toasted the gruff old man, earning herself another noncommittal grunt before he made his way down the bar to other patrons.

"But the petcher coulda stepped in back there, 'ats all I'm sayin'. Go outta my way to bring 'im 'is fish." The muttered words held a hint of bitterness, even to Nellie's ears. Not wanting to turn the conversation unpleasant, or be overheard by Merv himself, she cocked her head at Robinson curiously.

She hadn't seen him at the docks, so she was fairly certain he wasn't a fellow fisherman. He wasn't carrying any obvious weaponry, so she mostly ruled out hired sword. Not bothering to hazard a guess, she simply returned his question, forcing a lighter tone: "An' you? What d'ya do when yer not drinkin' Merv's finest an' breakin' up barfights?"

[Robinson Gilli]

Date

‘Fisihing, eh? Might make fer a nice hobby’ He mused, would be a worthy trade too…..gods knew that there wasn’t enough people to gather food here in Sunberth, he reckoned he could gather food himself if he were to use that bow of his, probably safer than bein’ a merc although he loved the lifestyle ‘[i] Actually, might do me good to learn how to hunt, after all… A good hunter can do extermination jobs a lot easier. She nodded in agreement that Merv could have probably stopped the fight if he wanted to, though Robin believed only if it went too far for even his apathy or when the furniture and mugs start breaking.

“Ye shouldn’t be so bitter, ma’am. Merv’s just a businessman first, if he weren’t tending bar he’d probably swat the lads for bein’ annoying” He knew it was a crappy reason, but crappy reasons like that were the norm in Sunberth. Even the more selfless people in Sunberth tended to have the crappiest of reasons for whatever it is that they do. Without missing a beat he began to answer the woman’s question “I’m a hired sword” He shrugged, it was one of the most common professions in this city….no shortage of jobs and no shortage of things to guard and people to kill, the only shortage of things is mercs that actually know to fight well enough for the better jobs…of which Robin was of the rare few. He moved slightly to let her see the battle axe at his side, a one handed variant but still no less frightning

“Me da’s been a merc, me granda’s been a merc and I’m now carryin’ the legacy of bein’ a merc’ “ He said with a hint of pride in his voice “ So if ye need any more protection ye kin always pay me” He joked as he gave her a cheerful smile then downed the reminder of his ale “ So what’s fishin’ like? Might take it up to pass the time if I ever get too much free time”

[Nellie Hawkins]

The man's defense of Merv earned him no points in Nellie's book. Tomorrow, when the incident wasn't so fresh, she might look on it more objectively. Just now, she'd rather be grumpy about Merv's lack of compassion and her subsequent misfortune. Rather than argue, however, she simply ignored Robinson's gentle chastising.

Thankfully, no response was needed as he continued speaking. Nellie swallowed her surprise on another sip of ale when he owned to being a mercenary. The battle axe at his side seemed to back up his claim fairly obviously, now that she could see it, and she did a quick reassessment of her new acquaintance, coming away with the same opinion as earlier: he just didn't strike her as someone else's hired thug. Chalking that up to his earlier efforts on her behalf, she shrugged and smiled at his joking tone.

"I could pay ya in fish, I guess. Though th' way things are goin', it might be better fer me ta learn 'ow ta defend m'self from my own troubles. I dunno if I could find enough fish ta pay fer that much protection." There was enough truth in her words to make her a bit nervous; to cover, she downed the rest of her ale and replacing her mug on the bar.

"Fishin' is a job. More relaxin' than most, under th' right circumstances. Sunberth's almost peaceful at 5 bells, b'fore most people are up an' about. Not so great in th' winter, though," she noted ruefully.

In fact, that was a growing concern for her; she'd hardly be able to sit on the docks and drop a line in the middle of winter. A new job was needed, at least for that harshest of seasons. In fact, she'd been trying to work up the courage to ask Merv if he could use a hand at the tavern through the winter; though the man typically just ran the place himself, and customers be petched if they didn't feel like waiting a bit for service. Nellie had hoped that, after a few seasons of providing him with the finest catch of the Bay, he might be willing to take her on a bit, at least enough to keep her in food and firewood.

After her public spanking, however, she'd be reconsidering that line of work. If she ever had to serve Ol' Sef, she'd be just as likely to spill his ale on him as set it on the table. A backward glance showed that someone had moved the man's prone figure off to the side and taken over his table.