Open [The Pig's Foot] Drinks And Shenanigans

[Otaia]

48Th of Summer, 515 AV

Otaia walked into the tavern, striding up to the counter. She wanted some time to unwind, and a sip of something to dull the senses could help with just that. The kelvic fished a few coins out of her pocket, giving Merv a smile as she asked for a drink. "Could I get an ale, please?"

The tavern owner gave a quiet scoff at her respectful manner, followed by a gruff, "Comin' right up, princess." Otaia, despite being a thief, was a respectful person, which stuck out a bit in Sunberth. She didn't want to pointlessly anger anyone.

The girl plopped down on the nearest stool, facing the rest of the room. It was quite loud, as such crowded places often were. Although she hadn't entered the building with intention of theft, the kelvic now made an effort to scout out someone drunk enough that they wouldn't notice the loss of some coins.

It was a lot easier to steal from someone who was drunk, but many people were short-tempered, and this was only magnified with the effects of alcohol. It was a risky move, that demanded quite a bit of plotting and planning, even for a couple gold mizas. But it was also Otaia's preferred method of theft, because it could be quite rewarding. People didn't buy drinks if they couldn't afford it, did they? At least, not usually.

[Andar]

It was a fairly warm day outside on the streets of Sunberth. But as usual, commerce was impervious to minor inconveniences. Trade trundled on, slowing not at all. Slaves were bought and sold, wares handed over, advertising and gossiping offered up liberally to those who listened and of course, items conveniently disappeared at the drop of a hat. Well, convenient if you were a certain thief, otherwise, probably quite distressing. Andar was on the daily prowl for merchandise and mizas. As discouraging as his efforts had proven thus far, he decided to try his luck at the Pig's Foot. And yes, a perfectly good excuse to remove one's head from Syna's damnable wrath.

The glare of light faded with the closing of the worn wood door. A few at tables or beside the bar turned to momentarily glance at the newcomer before resuming whatever drunken behavior they had been at prior to the intrusion. Andar wore plain-looking clothes. The usual nondescript breeches, tunic, accessorized with modest levels of sweat and dust. Basically, he appeared to be no one of import, and that was fine by him. It was never enormously bright for one to make considerable efforts to be memorable when one's job usually included stealing, lying, and cheating. He endeavored to find work for those distinct talents of his whilst he made his leisurely way to the bar.

He saw that today's clientele were in good spirits; laughing boisterously, talking excessively, or peering happily into still half-full tankards. Some looked familiar, others not so much. One particular girl he did not recognize sat at the bar taking it all in a bit too interestedly. Brown of hair and dark of eye, thin of frame, but not the sort of sickly skinny that usually plagued the malnourished citizens of Sunberth, for there was apparent strength to her limbs. She was admittedly cute, but something about her eyes intrigued him. The briefest of eye contact made, the Kelvic thief settled down in a stool neighboring the woman. He ordered an ale after his salutation was rather gruffly received (if not unexpected) by the ever cantankerous Merv.

The thief stuck to a routine when it came to robbing folk. Before attempting anything even remotely risky, he always made it a habit to know his surroundings. The place, patrons, the notes of music being played by a scraggly bearded gentleman with a lute off to the corner of the joint, the trail of crumbs that led from his stool to the nearest table, the smells of people, food, the building itself, everything basically. The more intimately familiar a thief was with his surroundings and the people in particular he wished to pluck, the more likely it was that he (she) would succeed.

Between sips, he found his usual keen observations rather distracted by the woman in close proximity. There was something about her that made him curious. Perhaps he ought to listen to his instincts and simply pay close attention to her. He rarely went astray when he followed his intuition. Well...not usually. Some of the time.. Alright, quite often! So it was that the Jackal initiated a greeting with every hope this girl would lead him to a satisfyingly bulging pouch for the day's toils.

"Hello. I haven't seen you before. You new 'round here?" he asked conversationally, taking another swallow of ale and gazing at her from a sidelong perspective.

[Otaia]

The heat of the day had reached into the crowded tavern. Otaia took off her outer cloak, setting it on her lap. A few minutes after the kelvic got comfortable, the sound of the door swinging open resounded through the room yet again, another sound added to the white noise of drunken conversation.

The newcomer seemed to be a bit taller than Otaia, with long brown hair, which was braided. The man made his way to the counter, sitting down next to Otaia. After a few moments, he turned to her, starting a conversation. "I've only been in town a few seasons and I don't come here much," The girl replied, "But sometimes a drink is nice."

She now had a closer look at the man, and saw that he, too, had some animalistic features. More specifically, his eyes, which were a shade of amber. Maybe he was kelvic too?

Otaia began to glance from prison to person, trying to find a suitable victim of theft. So far, nobody was all that drunk, and the girl decided she would have to wait a little longer.

[Andar]

"You do not lie," he agreed with yet another raise and quaff of his ale. Much like the girl, he too glanced from person to person, albeit with a smidgen more tact perhaps. The bearded bard finished his song and received a smattering of praise for his efforts. A group of no-good dirty ruffian types pounded their table, spilling as much drink as they put down. They pawed at the serving wenches and snickered at Merv's threats to have them thrown out if they continued their "horseplay". At the remaining tables sat individuals of nondescript status, most of them town laborers of one sort or another.

Andar caught the young-looking girl eyeing the individuals with the same interest he did and leaned in close. "You've got the roving eye, friend. Would it not be twice to the good if we linked our talents to the job? I've an itching suspicion our mark will be coming from that rowdy bunch. They've got less sense than most and too much to prove in a group could be used to our benefit. What say you?" said Andar in a voice barely raised above a whisper.

[Otaia]

Otaia gave a soft chuckle at the man's reply. The music that had been wafting through the tavern came to a close, and a smattering of applause filled the room, before the din of conversation returned. The girl continued to scan the crowds, and a group of younger men caught her eye. They were stirring up a significant ruckus, and she could see ale splashing.

Finally, the man next to her spoke yet again, offering an appealing concept. "Gladly," Otaia whispered back, "Which of them do you think would be easiest?" But silently, the kelvic scolded herself. Was she that obvious in searching for a victim?