[The Quay] We drink, and drink, and drink some more

by **Fallon** on November 10th, 2014, 11:08 am

85th Autumn 514 AV
Around dusk

Before hand, only the missives and letters had been sent out here and there. Invitations to some, the whisper of a rumour, the idea planted among the general population to the others. The Quay was to swing open its doors for an event in the waking of the cold winter. More official notices were sent to potential employees of the night, and orders were sent out to various stalls which still housed what was needed. She kept it no secret however, and those that approached or asked about it were given a straight up answer. That rumour was true.

But, it was at noon that Fallon truly begun her work - if it could even be called that. It was more the process of laying things out to force a hum of merriment and ease onto people. For whilst Sunberth was indeed a tired city, torn by chaos and anarchy, even it needed a slither of enjoyment every now and again. Small moments of piece where unity and merriment could be felt among the people. And so, the woman set herself to achieving such a goal and in the loosest sense of the word begun to tug the strings together to weave something that could be otherwise known as a party.

Though, procession of drink and food would have been a better description. Ale and meat would be the main attraction of the night, warmth and fire with it. To be able to feed one's self would always be of interest, more so if it was free. And besides, there was nothing wrong with the occasional splurge of generosity - if it could even be called that. Regardless, there was only a few grunts and groans as Fallon proceeded the long process of moving the benches from within the Quay house into the grounds. From there the carts begun to arrive, fuels for fires, herbs, spices, starches, the fresh and clean kills of animals - pigs and poultry mainly - arriving with it. Cooks and staff came afterwards, and it was as she continued setting up that they got to work.

Lanterns were hung next, and as the colours continued to draw onwards did the once empty dead land that made up the Quay finally begin to look filled. From there, Fallon cleansed herself - the layer of grime removed, the hair pulled back and the clean clothes taken away. Armour was put to one side for the evening, the usual look of being 'boyish' pushed away for now. But the new found gauntlets and weapons remained with her - she was not about to let her guard down just yet.

And when dusk finally came, the skies clear of clouds and streaking colours across it, did the people also. Drawn to the open gates, the sound of merriment and music, and the scent of food - distinctly there was the now spit roasted pig above the flames being tended to. The warm glow of the long fires, the lanterns lit and flickering, the clinking of glasses and the general atmosphere that was akin to a tavern - and set to rise. The strumming of the lute, the sing song voice of the entertainment, even the nervous beginnings of a dance reaching up above it all. Tankards clunked, voices raised in cheer as the hum of simplicity came to the fore. It was no fancy ball of Zeltiva, no noble banquet that belonged in the bigger cities, but the raw simplicity remained true.

It was not long until Fallon was among them, tankard held high and the beginnings of small sips being taken of the evening. It would indeed be a good one - she hoped at least - and she hoped blades she hung upon her waist would not have to be put to use. The cheers rose, the gawfing of locals as the whispered rumours of her demise earlier in the season were obviously counters. And with it, the announcement of words to the city came;

"Come one, come all!
For tonight is the night we forget our troubles,
For tonight is the night we drink to our heart!

With our cups held high,
We'll drink till we lie,
And then we'll drink some more!

Come one, come all!
Don't be shy,
The wolf has returned to us,
She has not died!

With our cups held high with her den,
We'll drink and feast until the end.
And then we'll drink some more!

Come one, come all!"

NoteSo players are aware, this is a free for all in terms of posting - as in, there will be no set order to post in, so post as you feel. I'll be flittering in and out here and there myself, as will hopefully others. Kick back, have fun, meet people, do silly things. Eat and drink to your heart's content. T'is free after all!

receipt :

by **Kechaiya** on November 10th, 2014, 10:32 pm

Kechaiya was at one of the smaller orphanages today, dealing with a lot of cracked skin and runny noses. Winter was right around the corner and the air had already begun drying out, getting colder in the mornings and evenings. And children were still children, poor weather wasn't going to stop them from playing. She was spreading a salve made from Jile berries and bark onto little Kyala's hands, listening to her complain about the stinging from the cracks.

"No whine Kyala. You big tough girl."

The little girl nodded, already growing impatient. The rest of the children were outside chasing each other with stacks. The caretaker, an older man named Leeland, came in to the kitchen, pulling up a chair and sighing. "I'm getting too old for this shyke." Kech grinned, Leeland always said that, "You bones not dust yet." This elicited a chuckle from the man, who was now making some tea. He didn't even offer Kech any, just setting the cup in front of her. "So is a pretty thing like you goin' to that party down at the Quay?"

Kech raised an eyebrow, not sure what he meant. "Everyone is talkin' bout some party down there. Free..." He then turned as a heard a thud against the exterior wall, "I swear to Dira if you petchers break another wall, I'm gonna tan those hides so hard you could melt snow!" Turning back to the doctor, who'd just finised with Kyala, and sent her on her way, "Free food and drink. I know I tore up parties like that when I was your age."

Kech considered it, now sipping at the tea Leeland had given her. She wondered if Noven would be there, she knew from the farm raids that he had several friends at the Quay. She hadn't seen him in several days, her work keeping her busy and the pair of them just missing one another at the main orphanage. Perhaps she could surprise him, show him a few of the things Caela had taught her, use that new dress she had made, inspired by the dancer. "Thank Leeland, I do that." With a knowing chuckle he nodded, "Have fun kid." And with that, she made her way home.

Once there, she pulled the dress from her trunk and laid it across her bed. It was cotton, and dyed purple along the sides and from the waist down. The sections from her breast to waist, and the opposite side, were a bit lighter shade of the royal color. The neckline was soft curve from her shoulders downward, showing a hint of her small cleavage, but far from what the bar wenches showed. Slipping out of her current garments, she decided to remove the cloth wraps that supported her breasts, knowing they would stand out terribly in the dress. Struggling, she put on and strung up her corset, just as Caela had shown her. Then putting the dress on, it hung down to just above her boot clad feet. Looking down, adjusting her and there, she was satisfied. She actually felt pretty in it, and hoped Noven would think so too. She hadn't mastered the art of make up, but matched her lips to her dress with a dark purple lip pomade.

A couple of bells later, Kechaiya was walking into the quay, cake on a wooden plate in hand. It was shiny from the sugary glaze and brown, filled with nuts, raisins, and cinnamon. She had bought it from a vender at the Castle Commons. Back in Eyktol, showing up empty handed to any festive event was an affront to the gods, and the hosts. There were several people already here, and a large pig roasting on the fire. A man approached her, hands out, telling her that he was a worker and would take her cake to the appropriate place. A bit reluctant at first, she handed it over, and made her way to the concessions. Not yet seeing anyone she knew, except that one creepy guy with no nose that showed up anywhere food was free, she grabbed a tankard of berry cider and a plate. She took a healthy portion of the roast pig and a dabble of everything else. Making her way over to a bench, she sat down, hoping Noven would find her.

Receipt :

by **Zandelia** on November 10th, 2014, 11:38 pm

Fallon had outdone herself, that was the one thought that had dominated her mind as she had watched it all coalesce from a silence at the Quay House to a throng of revellers and well-wishers. It was quite surprising how many had decided to turn up in actuality, she knew free food and drink were strong pulls for the people but this was more than she had expected. A small gathering she had anticipated perhaps, friends and allies. Brothers and sisters. She had not expected random passers-by to arrive though, for the most part it seemed they were from the local area. Residents who frequently seemed to look up at their new abode and wonder who it was that lived there, why the streets were suddenly a lot clearer of the scum since their arrival. It was to be expected perhaps, yet she could not quite bring herself to believe it just yet as she sat with a cup of wine and a small gathering of people she had never met wanting to meet her.

Holding court, one could say. I knew I was known but not like this. Strange....very strange she thought as she sipped from her cup delicately and enjoyed the tang, the rising warmth. She sat in a newly purchased dress, purple and black to match her reputation. Unarmed save for the hidden blade strapped to her left wrist. Not that she needed more than her hands to defend herself she noted as she politely waited for the speaker to finish their words.

“So we was wondering, why come here? You know. I mean this is a nice place...nice place c'mpared to what we gots. But you could have gone wherever like. You know? Not that we don't appreciate the free party and all that but...yeah...we was...wondered. Just” the young man seemed to be shifting, fearful perhaps of what she might do to him if he insulted her.

“Come now, no need to stutter. You spoke your mind and well to,” she laughed once he had finished, it was almost heart warming to see the relieved smile flash across his lips as his cheeks reddened, “it is true...we had enough gold to go wherever we liked. But, let me ask you, why would you choose to live elsewhere?” she countered in warm tones and another broke silence, a woman this time, old and wizened.

“Because this area's a sty that's why! Not safe, filled with young thugs preying on the weak and helpless. Could have gone with the Daggers, the Castle Commons, anywhere but here. I would if I could”

“Exactly so,” she let the words creep out, engaging their interest, “this...neighbourhood...needs urgent care and change. Does it not?”

“Change? What's you talking abo-”

“Oh I'm not suggesting changing your lives wise one. Just...helping out. I notice there are less of these...thugs...of late though”

“Yeah, strange how that happened when you two came here. Mighty strange”

“Well...one does what one can” she finished her wine and grinned over the rim.

“You means to say you've been kicking them out? Why?”

“Because we can? Because we solve problems...and the people here have many, many problems. They have fewer now. Some remain. But then it has only been a season”

“Yeah damned right! Only a season. Stone me!”

“Think what could be done with two. If you ever need help then you know where I am. Shove a note under the door. I will come. Now...if you will excuse me” she stated, pushing herself up and parting company before they could argue and listening with a creeping smirk at how they began hushed chattering behind her back as she walked away and they faded.

That had been the fourth such small gathering she had introduced the idea to, that would be enough for the local area she thought. Rumour would soon fly, connections would be made and then the requests would filter through. Out of such things were reputations and allegiances won. The syndicates could keep their strong-armed methods. She would settle for quiet, helpful building over sheer force any day. Soon enough the people around them would defend them fiercely. Warn them of things they saw, owe favours and gladly want to pay them back. Their hearts would be won, it was harder but far more grounded. She decided, however, on balance, that she should stop the act now. It was time instead to enjoy herself, it was sorely needed. She grabbed another cup of wine and began to meander through the crowds, spying Fallon enjoying herself and Kech also sitting quite by herself. She had heard tales of her of late and thus decided to leave her be.

“Friends! How is the night going?” she asked a group sitting in the corner as she approached, a figure seemed to be familiar as the dice rattled and rolled across an upturned keg once filled with ale, quite recently she presumed.

She approached and wondered how her luck was this night.

by **Lianel Lighthand Terras** on November 11th, 2014, 12:31 am

Mental note, buy more dresses for parties. Nitai thought to herself, slipping on her high leather boots. For all the many many parties you go to. She sighed, running her hands over a few loose wrinkles in her deep purple dress. Her hair was up, bound in a ponytail that pulled her normally loose white blonde ringlets close to her scalp to let the rest dangle and curl freely out the back of the band, a few loose tresses curling around her temples. A dab of make up was all she used this evening, determined to make her kit last as long as possible. A bit of eyeliner to draw out her lavender eyes, a smidgen of rouge.

Finally when she was ready her Rapier lay at her hip, and she draped her cloak around herself, not wanting to draw attention to herself on the way to the quay, and she even left her apartment in the normal fashion instead of climbing out the window, lest the Ukalas fall if she managed to rip her one dress.

She saw the steady stream of people making their way with her. It would have attracted a crowd regardless, the woman on many people's lips hosting a party, but with the food shortage? The draw was even more so. If asked Nitai wasn't quite sure what would have been the main attraction for her. Perhaps getting a chance to meet the hostess...perhaps just the free food that would fill what had seemed to be a constantly half empty stomach this season. Regardless her legs took her quickly across the city to the gates, singing, feasting, and...dancing?

Nitai slowly lowered her hood, allowing her cloak to open and reveal her dress, approaching a table of food with wide eyes, then chuckling to herself as she helped herself to some fruit, pork, and a cup of the berry cider, giving a nod and a compliment to the nearest chef before scanning the crowds in search of a familiar sight.
.

by **Xavior Silhouette** on November 11th, 2014, 1:59 am

Night had fallen and once more he left the mill and into town. It was a routine that he was familiar with, the sights, the sounds, the calmness. It was as if he was about to leave paradise even though this paradise was not without its dark. His brow never raised as a shady individual hovered outside of the mill. But Xavior knew to not ask questions in regards to the crates and movement of odd shipments from the mill. He waited in the woods stripped of clothing as the last of the sun’s rays vanished under the horizon and yielded to the moon.

His change was smooth but the chill in the air caused him to move quicker as he pulled on pants and wrapped his bare torso in a white robes. He wrapped a rope around his waist and tied it to help keep his robe closed in the night’s air. Pack in hand he began to move out of the forest and back onto the worn road.

“Damn it, let go of my horns,” a hand moved to snap the twigs that had tangled with his antlers, “I need to remember to start bringing around a blade.”

He made it back to his tent, the pyre still ablaze and aided those in the dark. His pack and axes traded in for his tall walking stick he departed toward the city proper. There were whispers among the inhabitants of the tents that a gathering was being hosted. Some where skeptical of the event but Xavior was intrigued.

“Never been to the Quay before,” he thought to himself as he shifted among the alleys.

Guided by the sounds of conversation and music he soon found himself at the festivities. He observed from the shadows as patrons entered the establishment. Eyes scanned their waists for swords and though there wasn’t an abundance of them he was still uneasy.

“Best put my face on,” he thought again and took in a deep breath steeling his nerves.

It was natural at this point, the charisma that was exuded from his body. The projection of his Djed was almost on at a constant level. The suggestion placed into his own mind allowed him to think and process consciously while subconsciously pumping out the emotional response that he was to be trusted, to be calm around him, to feel safe. His presence could be felt as he approached the gates.

Those touched by magic would no doubt be able to sense some sort of presence of Djed as Xavior entered the main area and was greeted by a bar maiden. Those not privy to the presence of a mage would be able to get an inkling one had entered. Even more so, those gifted with sight would no doubt see the way his aurora bright as sun’s rays. His djed moved toward the bar maiden, an almost physical connection between the two.

“Good evening, I would love a pint of ale yes?” Xavior smiled and moved out of the way of the door out of courtesy. She smiled and began to turn away, “oh hold on mam.” Xavior extended a hand toward the young woman.

She looked confused until Xavior moved to grab a bit of silver and extended it to her, “for your service.”

Once alone Xavior felt like an elephant in the crowd as he could see the tops of most of the patron’s heads. It was never easy for him to remain hidden which is why he chose to make himself even more evident. He leaned over and picked up his tankard and took a long sip from it. Eyes continued to scan the crowd until he felt a tug on his robe.

“Hmm?” He looked over his shoulder and found no one present.

He felt another tug opposite of the first and looked around and saw no one again. Brows narrowed and he began to take another sip of ale. But when he felt the tug once more he looked opposite and caught the young lad who giggled innocently.

“Aha, caught you brat,” Xavior chuckled and reached down to grab the young man’s arm and tug him over playfully.

“Ralph!” A voice piped through the crowd as she shoved her way in, “there you are,” her voice trailed off as she looked up at Xavior.

Xavior saw the eyes grow wider and caused him to chuckle, “do I have something on my horns?”

His eyes shifted up as if to act like the kid was staring at something other than himself. But when the girl said, “you’re petching tall.” Xavior couldn’t help but break his role of a clueless giant.

“Oh, guess I am!” Xavior chuckled and led Ralph around toward the young lady, “is this yours?”

“Urrm, oh yes!” The older lady, whom he assumed was Ralph’s sister snapped herself out of bewilderment. “I’m sorry sir if he has caused any trouble, we got lost trying to get to the food.”

Xavior shook his head, “no he hasn’t been a problem at all. Tell you what though you do look like you need a bit of meat on your bodies.” Ralph didn’t leave Xavior’s side which allowed him to bend over and pick the boy up and set him on his shoulders, “lets go find something for you all to eat yeah?”

“Wow, I can see everyone from up here!” Ralph’s legs swung against Xavior’s body who stilled them with a hand. “This is so cool!”

Jacky rolled her eyes at her brother to which Xavior nudged her with his body, “how about it?”

She smiled at Xavior and nodded her head, “alright up there captain, lead the way.”

“Forward!” He shouted and the trio moved through the crowd.

Xavior did care for the children, however in this instance it was purely political. Social politics was something Xavior felt was very important. The illusion of openness and kindness something that he fought hard to maintain in social gatherings was a tool to be later used to meet his own goals; it also provided safety. The way most looked over at them with smiles was always a good indication his charm was working to his advantage.

When he was near the serving area he set Ralph down and let him go near his sister.

“Mom, that was so much fun!” Xavior frowned inwardly.

“I bet it was, now thank the kind man,” Jacky said.

Ralph turned and beamed, “thank you mister!”

“It was a pleasure to meet you captain, if you ever need help again I’ll be around town I’m sure you won’t miss me,” Xavior winked his eye and gave a wave to both Jacky and Ralph.
“She was just a babe herself, that couldn’t possibly be her son,” he thought to himself as he got a quick top off of his drink before he moved away and continued to slowly drink leaned against a stone wall.

by **Victus** on November 11th, 2014, 2:31 am

This is unwise.

The thought echoed around his mind for the twentieth time that night, but still his feet seemed to ignore it. Victus had a plan, and had been determined to stick to it. His master believed him to be out perusing the weapon stalls at the Market, seeking some new steel for the arena. It had taken time to convince Tall Johnny, but eventually the master of the Casino had stroked his moustache thoughtfully and nodded.

"Fine. Let me know if something takes your fancy," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, patting his recovered gladiator on the shoulder before he went back to the paperwork strewn on his desk, "I'd not have you fight with shoddy blades..."

Victus had bowed low and made his exit, not trusting his luck to linger longer. The whole time he'd properly dressed himself his hands... gods, they'd almost shook with excitement, a species of which he'd rarely. Another night of learning! A few precious, stolen hours to run his finger line by line across yellowed parchment, sounding out each with with painful sloth but feeling a tiny victory each time. Or perhaps the healer would read to him, the towering, branded, scarred brawler sitting like a child at bedtime to his words...

That had been the plan. It was a good plan. He'd taken the long way around the Market, doubling back a few times to confound anyone who might be lurking, but when he'd come to the crossroads... he'd heard it.

Revelry. Clamor. Laughter and music, carried with the aroma of roasting meat and spiced ale. The gladiator had frowned under his cloak. It was not the drunken, bloodthirsty roar of the Cage crowd, though. This was... purer. He did not even understand why, but it seemed so shorn of the dark hunger the elling mob at the Casino seemed to exude. It was happiness and joy in one's company, and step by step, his feet had taken him on a detour...

By and by he found himself at the entrance to the Quay, peering through the shadows of his cloak to glimpse the figures lit by lantern and bonfire. A fat, crackling pig was roasting above one, smiling chef artfully slicing off chunks and plating them up. Ale was flowing like a river, but there was none of the belligerence Victus associated with that particular vice. It made the revelers there... glow, not glower.

A rare, toothy smile flitted across the shadowed face. "Glow, not glower". He'd have to remember that. He might learn to write it.

"No need to stand idle, friend!"

The hand clapped him so fast on the shoulder, the voice boomed so suddenly, that Victus had a hand on his hidden gladius before he was aware, ready to jerk it out, head snapping round-

-to see a ruddy-faced young man shrink from him, beery good nature shriveling before the glare. He corrected it, like he'd been learning to. Softening his gaze and marshalling the voice he'd used so little in years.

"What goes in there?"

"Er... a party? I dunno, some swell they call-" His hands went up in a pantomime of fright. "-'The Wolf'! Well, can't be all that bite can she, eh? If she's willing to put this on."

Victus frowned anew, trying to piece together the truth from the roiling words. "So it is... open to all?"

"Now yer gettin' it!" The man said, tottering slightly and raising a tankard that had materialized from somewhere, toasting the empty air. "Well, can't stand 'ere jawin' all night! Got an eye on some pork... and I'll take some o' that pig, too, eh? Eh?"

Victus almost grimaced at the elbow planted in his ribs, the lascivious wink. He pondered briefly whether or not he should laugh or punch the man in the throat. No, no, best not to draw attention...

"Good night t'ya, friend!"

And then he was gone, wheedling away like a cart with a broken axle, doffing a hat that wasn't there to ladies and gents passing by, making his way back to the party with all the directness of a mad bumblebee. Victus watched him go... massaged his jaw...

He wanted to see it. He had seen much of books and tomes since he'd begun his furtive covert expeditions away from the Casino, but now... he wanted to see this.

Stepping into the courtyard, he felt a quiver of unease that the crowd was not... quite as large as he'd hoped. They were easier to blend into, even with his height and breadth and the notable sight of a hooded man. But Victus dared not draw it down and reveal his face. All it would take would be one passerby, one regular at the Cage who'd recognize him, whisper it to Johnny, take it a bell or a year... and gods, there would be trouble.

So Victus moved to the end of a bench nearest the shadows, hands in plain sight on the table, sleeves long enough to cover the charcoal-etched slave tattoos on his wrists. He tucked the corner of his cloak across his mouth, hoping to look like a beggar or leper, someone who would not attract attention.

Which was fine by him. The sight of it, the potpourri of excitably, celebrating life... he only wanted to see that.

Friends and neighbours gossipped and swapped stories over picked plates and foaming mugs. Other, more serious characters muttered or whispered, but there was no furtive suspicion here. Victus saw those conversation end in smiles, pats on the back... camaraderie. Trust. Belonging.

High, shrill laughter tickled his ears and sprightly little figures casting colossal shadows dashed around the bonfire, scolded halfheartedly by mothers and grannies. Victus saw the children chase one another, playing games the meaning of which had all-but-vanished from his memory.

Grabtag. That's what we called it.

The slave felt something tighten in his chest. Looking would not be enough, and part of him had known that. Seeing such happiness, even in the squalor and anarchy of Sunberth... it called to him. A lifetime in the cage had shown Victus nothing but pain and brutality. He beat men to a pulp for the crowd; sometimes killed them, and save very few, regretted none of them. That was what he knew, all his master had permitted him to see or even remember.

But Sunberth was more than gangs and syndicates and assassins and scheming renegades. There were people there. Families. Mothers and sons and friends and lovers, each a world of plans and hopes and fears. It was home to them, and tonight, they celebrated it.

All but him.

"Something to eat, mate? Mate?"

Victus needed a moment to realize he was being addressed, looking up at a woman with a curious smile on her face. She nodded at his empty setting.

"Bit of pig, perhaps?"

"Er... y... yes, thank you."

"Ale?"

"No, thank you."

"S'free, y'know?"

"I'm sure, thank you... ma'am."

A moment later he was well-furnished, picking over a neat, steaming slice of roasted boat that... fell apart in his mouth. He savored the taste of it, but savored the sights around him even more. He gazed hungrily over his gnawing fingers, unsure how to proceed, but happy to be in this warm, light place, if only for a little while.

by **Lianel Lighthand Terras** on November 11th, 2014, 5:38 am

The one individual she would have recognized immediately in the form of Kechaiya was a little distance away at present. As it was, Nitai took easy casual strides, oddly comfortable even in this strange situation. With every other step she'd take a nibble of her food, a draught of the cider, eyes peering this way and that as if she had stumbled upon a different world. It was all familiar, the stench of the quay, the mostly tattered clothing, yet the normal atmosphere that the Konti had come to expect was dampened somehow. After all, how could you be suspicious of someone stealing your food when it was free for the taking? It was almost hesitant, in the stubborn way that the people of Sunberth had...that she had as one of them, but she could see the smiles emerging, guards being lowered, even if only slightly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nitai's gaze was drawn to a tall figure, looming above the crowd and only helped by holding a child upon his shoulders. Her mouth opened somewhat in wonder, noticing the elegant horns rolling out of his temple, head canting to the side as she saw him easily interacting with the boy upon his shoulders. There was an otherworldly quality to him, something that didn't seem to fit perfectly upon the mortal plane, and Nitai found herself staring, as she was sure many others were for several long moments before shaking her head and continuing through the crowd. This thing had really drawn out all sorts this evening...

"You're a pretty thing." The voice came behind her right shoulder, and the Konti turned on a Copper Miza to find what she could only assume was a regular of the Quays based on the stench. "New to the city?" He inquired, casually ripping up a bit of chicken he had procured for himself, a suggestive smirk placed artfully on his lips.

"No." She said simply. Perhaps on another day she might have enjoyed having a few words, teasing the man, or at least attempting to, but tonight she...well to be perfectly honest she wasn't sure what her goals were, but she certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with one of the smelly sods she saw daily visiting the Drunken Fish.

Instead, searching for an out her eyes alighted upon another tall figure, not quite to the scope of the man with the horns...no, but intriguing all the same for he was covered almost entirely in his cloak, but had neither the posture nor bearing of some diseased homeless person wandering in for a bit of free grub. Her lips pursed and she made her way over to the figure, smiling softly as she angled her way behind him, and purposefully jostled him, her left shoulder bumping against his right.

"Ach, haven't had enough to drink to just be running into folks like that, sorry friend." She rotated to try to glimpse something of the shadows under the figure's hood and offered a scaled hand. "Name's Nitai, enjoying the free food?"
.

by **Dmitri Saratov** on November 11th, 2014, 6:28 am

It had been an eventful last few months for Dmitri, first he was astonished with what the dystopian world had to offer outside the golden cage he had grown up in, but more than that he was mortified to the changes that were being uprooted from deep within his core. He couldn't, in the loosest sense of the word, be called kindhearted or even repentful, yet. He tried to fight the change in him, even, he didn't want to feel like this. The remorse and regret for all he had done so far, was too much to bear for this frail excuse of a man's soul. Still it was undeniable it fought back, it didn't want to be forgotten or locked up in a black box, chained and burried deep within. He had no idea what to do with himself really, it was almost funny to hi, that the cold and merciless persona he had built for himself was breaking down brick by brick.

This experience he was enduring, had made rather depressed and especially confused, struggling with maintaining what he was used to or opening up to the great unknown. He needed fresh air, something to cool his mind off, so he decided upon trudging towards Sunberth's coastal area to take a stroll there and gaze at the endless sea that somehow reminded him of better days. Possibly because back then the world was his oyster? Nowadays, his childlike dreams were all but faint memories of days he wished never to remember. They say you only die when you're forgotten. Dmitri felt like dying was to forget your life's greatest ambitions and just settle for whatever's the easiest way. As much as he felt like this, he couldn't shrug off the feeling dying is not always a bad thing, not in that sense of the word anyway

...An easy life? ...To die for!

He didn't know but he was about to experience the excitement of new things in life, and that dying was not the solution. No matter what hand you're dealt with, one way or the other, you got to play the game. Never knowing what fortune it might bring. So while walking around the docks, he came across an old man, just fishing there and minding his own business. But when Dmitri passed him, keeping his head low and spirits lower, the man called out to him. Surprised, Dmitri stopped and looked at the old man, looking right back at him, without the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"What is it, old man?"

"Who do you think you're calling an old man? Judging a book by its cover, I'd say you are the one closest to the grave, sonny."

Feeling like his fingers just got ticked by the old man's cane, Dmitri's tongue almost beat his heart, but before it could lash out, Dmitri found himself sitting next to the man. Wishing to hear what the old soul had to offer, or if that was all there was to the man's warning.

"I never thought I'd catch anything from here, but seems like I caught a shrimp regardless. Tell me, what's on your mind, lad?"

With a sickly grin between amusement and sorrow, Dmitri simply stared at the everchanging sea, never standing still and always dangerous.

"...It feels like I'm stuck, in the middle of the damned water, with nothing around me except unknown lands in the distance. And the only land I do know, is right beneath me but if that's where I'll go...I don't think I'll be able to swim back up."

"So, basicly, you're feeling like pretty much everyone who has grown some sense into him? Kiddo, you're scared, shykeless, but not alone. Believe you me, you're not alone! How many people do you know who know where they are headed? Where they'll end up? Get a grip, grab driftwood, and look around you to see the countless other drifters around you. Scared and only able to float on life's current. There's one thing to remember, while you can't decide where you're going to end up with that driftwood...You can steer it, even if slightly, by moving your petching feet!"

"Now help this old man up, I'm going to show you where your feet can bring you if you got the balls to paddle!"

And so the young and old lost souls, paddled towards wherever their feet would bring them. Sharing stories that you could only share with people you didn't know. Dmitri learned about the old man's deceased family, how he was left to wander this world all by himself, but while maintaining his strength and spine straightened as best as he could. Dmitri imagined it was probably more for them than for himself, but he was endlessly impressed by this old man's courage and strong soul.

"Here we are, land in sight, there's a party here. Care to be my date, lad?"

Dmitri laughed loud, louder than he had imagined he could laugh ever again, slapping the old man's shoulder, they set foot on this piece of land, for a night to forget all other nights.

by **Noven** on November 11th, 2014, 7:38 am

There was no way in hell Nov was turning down free food and booze.

He'd caught whiff of the event from first from Thomas, who had heard it from a friend down by the docks, who had heard it from another friend hired to be one of the workers to handle all the food for the party...

Suffice it to say, it was enough to get Noven out of his dingy apartment and back on the streets. He would have to find out for himself if this open feast was truth or myth. And I'm willing to bet it's truth, if this thing is really being orchestrated by Wolf Girl herself, the cook mused.

Donned in his Ramies and not the new clothes he'd bought earlier in the season, Nov had every intention of getting himself smashed beyond recognition. And eating twice the amount his stomach could hold too, of course, but that went without saying. Everything was free, and there was a shyke ton to celebrate after such a harrowing season. What more of an excuse did a man need?

He did, however, pause long enough in his rush down to the Quay to decide he ought to find the doctor, should this party be the real deal. Life in the Berth this Fall had strained their time together to the point of torture. First his wounds, then hers, then a bunch of orphans being kidnapped, and then a full-blown raid on those bandits to top it all of. It would be good to enjoy the festivities with her, to partake in something other than pain, murder, and bitter truth.

Little did the cook know that Kechaiya was already there, dressed in her best and wondering if he would find her. So it was that when he poked his head into the overwhelmingly warm and scent-filled air, Nov's jaw all but dropped as he caught sight of the healer. She was sitting alone, save for the tankard and plate heaping with roast pig in front of her, and dressed so differently he scarce recognized her at first. He'd grown accustomed to seeing her in her business like, no-nonsense clothing, as well as the way she seemed to try and make herself smaller, as though doing so could make her invisible.

But the way she looked right then, sitting all by herself at that table...

Nov ducked away and went in a desperate search for some clean water and a mirror. Here he was, coming to the party to get piss drunk like a proper fool, while the doctor had shown up looking lovely as a flower, no doubt expecting to see him there at some point. At the very least, he'd chosen to wear his Ramies, instead of something blood stained or equally frightening. That much he could give himself credit for, even if his intentions hadn't changed.

But Kechaiya hand't seen him yet, which meant he still held a shot at rectifying this. Noven maneuvered himself past harried workers and squeezed through throngs of tipsy, high spirited guests. It was only a matter of time now before the party started in earnest, and he wanted neither to be sober nor without Kechaiya when it did.

"Oy, watch it, comin' through," the man called out now and then as he made his way toward the kitchens. Being a cook, even as crude of one as Noven for the likes of Sunset Orphanage, had its benefits. He knew how to blend himself right in, even shouting out orders now and then to a few youngins who looked like they'd been hired just for the night and never once set foot in a proper kitchen.

And what a kitchen it was, filled with enough meat and spices and cooks and apprentices to keep the man staring for days. But Nov snapped himself out of his momentary awe with a stern reminder. He was here for one reason only, and it wouldn't do to keep the doctor waiting.

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. A simple wash basin filled with soapy water, likely in preparation for the mountain of dirty dishes to come. Making sure no one was around to watch too closely, Noven strode over to the basin, took his shirt off, and essentially began bathing himself with dish water. It was short work, just a dunk of the head and quick rub of the chest and arms. He found a relatively clean looking apron nearby and dried himself with it. Then he threw his shirt back on, shook his head a few times like a wet dog, and ran his fingers once through his hair in way of combing.

There, done. There was no time for mirrors; he might get caught any tick. Noven rushed back out into the heat and din of the main hall, stopping for nothing and no one until he reached the banquet tables. He grabbed a plate and blindly began piling things onto it before taking a tankard of wine as well. Then, food acquired and visage slightly more groomed than before, Nov took a steady breath as he stepped forward to where Kechaiya sat.

"Hey, stranger," he greeted with a grin, "this seat taken?"

by **Toan Onox** on November 11th, 2014, 8:48 am

It had been the utmost importance that the troublesome two attended an event such as this, granted that they in fact had managed to avoid even attempting any means of trouble. Really the only thing that they had done was spend time collecting any soft residual information that could be gathered about Sunberth, which the only real rumor that led them to believe a chance at making contacts existed, was in fact the rumor of this Quay feast of a sort that floated about in the whispers of the locals.

It'd been enough to spark interest even in his furry companion, as Ven never even attended a single party in his lifetime. Of course the Kelvic was still young no doubt and had plenty of years ahead of him to experience things, but this by far was no means of a feast for the two to partake and enjoy in. What better way to make friends than to attend a event such as this. There were friends and then there were "friends" that were sought out, both being the ideal goal of this attending as Toan needed to make some contacts. How else was he going to survive and get around in this dump, even better make a name for himself without no one to feed the reputation some. Thus they merely sat at a table somewhat isolated from the main horde of merriment, amused smirks on both their faces as Ven stuffed his face with a variety of foods.

He mainly went for all the meats he could scavenge seeing as how those were the most popular, and they were definitely his favorite thing to eat compared to vegetables and other sorts of greenery. Toan however did not desire any food this night, no in fact he ate well enough before he came here. Though to look the part of an attendee he kept close to him a mug of berry cider, seeing as how that had a more flavor he desired compared to the piss ale served here. He mainly kept his eyes averted down to the sketch book he'd focused on, the moment in which a candle next to the mug had been captured and transferred onto paper nearly passed at last. He'd spent a good bell or so getting the shapes correct as he free handed most of the curves, the fixated shadows arranged to where the lighting of the candle gave it a mediocre sort of look to it. Nevertheless it stood out well enough, therefore he could only surmise that his attempts to capture perception in his art was nearly mastered.

Yet still he had far to go in his pursuit of the arts, mainly the ability to sketch moments of life proved to be his first milestone he intended to reach before too long. He felt determined to get there, it was about the one thing that would serve him most well in his personal endeavor. However that was all only accountable for the future ahead of him, and that wouldn't necessarily exist unless he made it happen. Therefore tonight was all about appearances, appearances and impressions so that he might make a few friends out of both categories. Thus he continued to peruse the selection of sketches within the book on the table, a bit of personal reflection found in his vacant expression as he sipped the cider with a pleased sigh to follow.

Closed [The Quay] We drink, and drink, and drink some more