[The Kelp Bar] Going Native (Hrair & Hadrian)

[Hadrian]

23rd Spring, 510 A.V.

Hadrian was one of the people who would call the dive bar unprepossessing rather than run-down or, worse yet, a piece of shyke. In remnants of his student clothes, he was a little out of place, but he had made the bar his home since moving to Zeltiva in his attempt to blend in with the local populace and gain street credibility. Having traveled so much already, he knew he preferred to be a local wherever he went rather than a tourist. It was getting easier now that he had been studying anthropology at the university, and he hoped to master his diplomatic skills to the point where he might eventually travel to places where humans were unwelcome and there learn things that humans didn't know.

He had made a point of acquiring a taste for the kelp beer, and was a few tankards in at this point, still doodling away on some parchments he had brought to "study" so he wasn't "wasting time."

Most of the regulars put up with his presence and some of them were even friendly, dropping by his table to peer illiterately at his latest work, threaten to throw his Sylirian arse into the harbor, or cajole him for a pint. By now he only got the rare good-natured jeer from across the bar, which would cause him to surface from his tipsy musing long enough to grin and shout something abrasive back before disappearing into his daydreams again.

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair Ansoub stood up from the bar. Though his constitution was strong, he was not used to this Kelp beer. His head swirled and he was starting to see double. Maybe it was time to call it a day. "No way" he though to himself. "I'll go and make more room for the next one."

He steadied himself on the bar as he stood. He could feel the floor falling away from him. He fell to the floor and hit his head. He murmured something illegible.

There was something warm and wet seeping down his trousers, and as he was the only thing in his trousers he presumed it must be coming from himself. Even worse his glass was now empty.

He grunted and struggled to his feet again, and lurching from side to side made his way towards the bathroom.

Passing a small table in the corner where a scholarly looking individual sat he lurched violently almost falling again. He grabbed hold of the scholarly looking chap and spraying him with spittle and the remnants of his last beer he said "Yeee not Meeble, yeo shtill loook shlike a feller who will shud buy me a beer ye jesht shpilt eh?" he shook a finger at the scholarly looking gentleman and vomited in his lap.

[Hadrian]

"Petching shyke!" he exclaimed, standing immediately upright -- or as upright as possible with the drunken dockhand hanging on him like that. It was upright enough that the vile-reeking vomit slid down the front of his clothes, though he could still feel the sticky heat that was already reaching his skin through osmosis.

At least it hadn't spattered on his notes, but there came chorus after chorus of laughter at his expense from the other bar patrons. He grit his teeth and helped the souse into the chair opposite him and then waddled toward the bar, trying to hide the expression of extreme disgust. Thank all the gods none of his family or academic cohort were here to see this.

He returned with two pints of kelp beer and a couple of bar towels, setting a drink down for the man and one for himself. He started toweling himself off as best he could, pasting on a friendly smile. The bar tender had orders to keep them coming. With any luck, the man would die of alcohol poisoning...

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair mopped himself up with his sleeve as best he could. Hmm this kelp beer took some getting used to. He knew inside this was wrong, he was making a fool of himself, he was going to regret this in the morning. He looked round at the laughing figures and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"Arr ye never seen a feller drunk before ye" he sat down with a thump at the table.

The scholar returned with a bar towel. Hrair accepted it gratefully and mopped himself down further. The scholar also had beer! What a chap.

"Thank ye" slurred Hrair, gulping the beer gratefully.

"Shorry about your clothes, I didn't mean to shpray you like that. He took another gulp of his beer. "What a splendid chap" he thought to himself. "Your good health Shir" he applauded raising his glass high in the air.

He took another swig. "hmm this beer tastes a bit odd, lucked out for the bottom of the barrel again" he thought He pulled his chair closer to the table and grabbed onto the side less he fell again.


"Hrair" he said extending a hand "Sho what brings an obvioushly learned and shplendid chap shuch as yourshelf to Sheltiva?" he inquired of the scholar.

[Hadrian]

"Hadrian," he said, shaking hands and then surreptitiously scrubbing with his own towel. "Don't worry; I take my chances whenever I drink here. I'm just here for the university and the kelp beer," he drawled.

At least he had gotten over that initial (and entirely logical) reaction to the nasty stuff years ago, and now he could drink practically like a local.

"And you?" he asked. It did seem odd that a local -- he had to assume that any dockhand drinking here was a local -- wouldn't be able to hold his kelp beer. It was just about the only thing regularly available in Zeltiva unless one was fabulously wealthy.

Unfortunately, only Hadrian's parents were fabulously wealthy. He was on a student budget.

[Hrair Ansoub]

"My Grandfather came to this university, Derian Ansoub he was called rest his soul. I'd love to see where he worked and studied actually" said Hrair. "but I will never study, for I am not learned, I can't even read. Till I lnaded here I had not spoken to another soul for nigh on 12 seasons." Hrair took another swig of beer.

"" I am alongside over there" he gestured towards the dock. "the Hope is mine and was made by my Grandfather." The pride was evident on his face. "She is a lovely boat, and has got me through much, I've sailed her alone through seas that would make a grown man cry. As for where I am from..." he pointed to the east "...many days...born on a rock and made of the sea" Hrair shrugged and eyed his nearly empty glass with a curious sadness.

"I have been at sea for such a long time, searching with no sign. I stayed out as long as I could but I had to land sometime, take on supplies you know, sell some fish, buy some fruit, take on fresh water and maybe find some crew to assist me, for she is hard to sail alone." Hrair sighed, wiped a tear from his eye and took another swig of his beer as he realised he was jabbering. "I am seeking a ship with a brilliant blue sail about 100ft and crewed by rapscallions...they took my sister, and I have been seeking them the last 3 years with no sign. It is like they just vanished you know..." Hrair wiped another tear from his eye. The beer was evidently making him emotional but it was apparent there was a genuine sadness to his tale. "Once I find the boat with the blue sail, I will find my sis...and have my pound of flesh."

He eyed up his empty glass. "say you havn't heard of such a craft have you?...do you know if she has ever docked here? no one I have talked to has heard of her yet she must be from somewhere?" Hrair made a wild exaggerated hand gesture and knocked over Hadrian's beer. He eyed up his own empty glass and reached into his pockets revealing a handful of coppers.

"Another?"

[Hadrian]

Hadrian sighed and nodded, mopping up the spill before it ruined his papers, which he moved out of harm's way. Hopefully, anyway. There was no telling how far the emanations of carnage might travel from the locus that was Hrair.

He wondered how much truth there was to the man's drunken rambling, then considered.

"Well, Veraline Kendrick is the dockmaster. She would know if anyone like that had put into harbor. I don't know if the information would require a bribe or not. I come down here to get away from the university, but I don't really keep up with the harbor gossip."

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair nodded thoughtfully. "I did shpeak to her when I paid my do's but she said she couldn't recall such a ship, though she did say true enough there are many shtrange folk who shail the sheas and any number of pirate crews who would not dare enter this dockyard" He sat silently thoughtful for a second. "Maybe she would tell me more if I paid her, i'm quickly running out of cash though."

Hrair looked thoughtful again.

"What with the weather and not having touched land for a while I thought I might hold up here for a while anyways, so maybe i'll find out more from the lads passing through." He waggled a finger at Hadrian. "Not that I am giving up mind you."

"And of course there is always the beer" he smiled to himself and stood.

Hrair ambled over to the bar and bought another round of kelp beer.

He returned to the small table. "There ya go matey," he said thumping the glass down with a slosh. "Enough of the past for the night let's just get pished." He raised his glass again hi in the air. "Cheers" he said.

The pair drunk their beer in silence, each quietly reflecting on his own thoughts.

"say Hadrian" said Hrair, suddenly bringing Hadrian out of his thoughts. Hrair gestured towards the bar and a large man staring intently at the pair, "That chap over there a friend of yours?"

[Hadrian]

After clinking glasses and drinking, he watched Hrair thinking. It was always amusing to see the thoughts slowly tumbling through a drunk man's head, like rocks shifting in a creek. At the question, though, he turned to look at the large man in question; just a quick, surreptitious glance, though Hrair was hardly doing a good job of being inconspicuous.

Hadrian just hoped that he wouldn't have to work to hard to get home safely. Ugh, but he would be glad to change out of his soiled clothes and wash.

"I don't know him," he said as quietly as possible while still being heard over the buzz of conversation and laughter and shuffling about. "If you talk to some of the crews of ships who sail out of other ports, though, they might have news of a blue-sailed ship that does berth in other harbors... Might lead you out of Zeltiva, but toward your goal."

He didn't even know if Hrair was going to remember his advice, and he sighed again. Pearls before swine. Oh well.

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair nodded. "Good plan."

"Hey you" shouted Hrair gesturing at the rather large angry looking guy who was staring intently at the pair. "Come over here" he shouted in far too louder voice gesturing wildly at the thug. People left the bar. The ones who remained suddenly appeared to be very interested in the checkered pattern on the floor.

The thug snarled revealing a row of missing teeth. He drew a finger cross his throat pointing at Hrair in reply.

"He doesn't like you does he" said Hrair nudging the young scholar with his elbow. He turned to the thug again, and waved madly. The thug drew himself up to his full height of over 7' and sidled over to the table.

"What do you want dockhand" growled the thug.

"whooa" said Hrair, "just back off abit there pal, your breath smells like you've been sucking a horse" Hrair failed to notice the aggression level increase. "Have you seen a sh...." Hrair flew a good three foot in the air off his stool landing in the remainder of the vomit which hadn't found its way onto Hadrian.

Hrair sat up and shook his head quickly trying to make sense of what had just happened. Realising making sense was not an option at the moment, he stared intently at the thug.

"Now there was no need for that" said Hrair, his anger rising. He tried to stand but found the kelp beer was not aiding his coordination and he now seemed to have three legs, none of which worked properly nor did what he told them to.

He eventually managed to pull himself to his feet, fell over, stood up halfway and then fell backwards in the puke again. "I'm dangerous mate" Hrair said eventually drawing himself up on the side of the table. "you don't want to mess with me."

Hrair pulled back a punch and fell over in the puke again with a splat.

The thug snarled and stood on Hrair's throat. As he did so he pulled a knife from his pocket and grabbed Hadrian by the cloak.

"Your friend has just insulted me and been sick on my shoe. Now you either give me 200 gold or i'm going to slit your throat as well."

Hrair spluttered under the thugs vomit ridden boot and looked up at Hadrian giving him a thumbs up.