Closed [The Pig's Foot Tavern] Something Borrowed

[Shakune]

Something Borrowed. 7th Winter, twenty-third bell.

It had been a traumatic day, and a long one. To Shakune, it felt as if it had beens days since she had found herself in the middle of the market, surrounded by bloodshed and gang war. She had escaped relatively unscathed, save for a concussion, a few minor scratches and a bruised cheekbone. The former had caused the most damage, and for the first few bells after the fight, Shakune had been rendered dazed and confused. By the time she came to appreciate the danger of the situation she had found herself in, the realisation was accompanied by embarrassment too. Her safety had relied on strangers, random women who had helped guide Shakune out of the market and into safety.

There had been a man as well, and a dagger. But his face had remained unclear to the half-breed even as her concussion wore off. As for the blade, it remained tucked safety into the band of Shakune's trousers. Though it did not look particularly special or expensive, she faintly remembered a bearded face stating that he would like it returned.

Her brain pulsated painfully as she paced her shack home, considering how best to spend her evening. Sleep was to be avoided following a concussion apparently, but Shakune was unused to being sober at this hour. Eventually, after much deliberation, she left her home.

It was not her local sailor's hangout that she aimed for, but instead the Pig's Foot Tavern. Located by the market that had been wracked by the fighting earlier, it gave the courier a perfect opportunity to check out the damage. The bodies had been cleared, the broken stalls removed. Save for the odd blood splatter, the market square looked almost normal.

She left the market briskly, as if another gang fight might spring out of the shadows at any moment.

The tavern was heaving with sweaty, prideful men and women. The noise and smells made Shakune's nose wrinkle and her head burn. She saw no familiar faces in the muddled crowd, but this did not dishearten her. Having made her way to the bar, she blearily ordered a pint of ale. When the barman told her she looked rough, Shakune could only laugh and down half her pint in one go.

Fuck concussion.

[Dale Hawthorn]

"This is bad Derek... We're knee deep in shite and you know it..."
"By the gods will you cheer the fuck up Dale, we got the War Marshal's boy. We should be drinkin'!"
"We've been be drinkin' for two bells now and I ain't seein' the silver linin' in the bottom of a tankard. A year it's been since we had our arses handed to us yet the Bosses think we're ready to start a bleedin' war!"
"Alright, alright. It's bad I know, the Sun's Birth ain't gonna put up with this for a tick but the new boys are happy so we put a smile on our miserable faces, light our pipes and drink with the rest of them..."
"Fine... This is gonna end badly though, don't say I didn't warn you..."

The two men let their heated agreement fade quietly as they stepped out of their little shadowed corner of the tavern. The air was hot and stuffy tonight in The Pig's Foot Tavern, pipe smoke hung thick and heavy in the air along with the smell of ale, the sound of raucous laughter filled the room as the bard sung a bawdy tune about an Eypharian women with six arms and her six husbands delight as the patrons sung along, forming an rag-tag choir so out of tune Dale feared for dogs of Sunberth as he joined a table near the far corners of the room, nodding warmly to his fellow Brothers as they recanted their deeds of the battle that had turned the Seaside Market into a bloodbath the very same day.

"I'm tellin' you, I cut the guys head clean off. One slash, nothin' more!"
"Like Hai you did, with those skinny arms of your you couldn't cut through butter if you tried..."
"Bullshit, just because you can't lift a sword up doesn't mean the rest of us can't either."

Dale didn't join in with their white lies and boasting, he no longer took pleasure in telling tall tales about blood he had spilled though he found himself genuinely chuckling along as he listened to the horseshit that spilled from their slurring mouths. "Pass us the splint mate..." Derek spoke, his voice muffled by the pipe clenched beneath his teeth as Dale joined him as he began to pack the dried weed into the chamber of the pipe. He lit a single splint from one of the candle that melted slowly on his empty table, watching it flicker and glow as it fought for life before he stuck it into the chamber of the pipe. The flame extinguished itself immediately as it attempted to set the weed alight only to make it smoulder and smoke before relighting the splint and passing it to Derek. Leaving the weed to brew he rose the tankard of cheap ale to his mouth before he sucked on the tip of his pipe, the sourer smoke melting with the tangy ale to form a truly vile flavour and odour.

"That's the stuff..." Derek muttered as Dale smiled and nodded in agreement "How's your hand?" He added, pointing the tip of smoking pipe to the bloody rag still tied around Dale's palm.
"It's fine, ain't nuthin' to worry about. I've survived worse..." He added with a grin.
"That's true, now how about we worry about a very different type of battle? See any talent you want?" He asked, giving Dale a pervy grin that he had seen far too often as he gestured to the vast array of women that filled the Tavern "Some of 'em even have all their teeth" He added, it said a lot about Sunberth that that was actually a bonus. Dale looked over them but it was for nought as he shook his head dismissively "None of them, you know I can-"
"I don't wanna hear it, how long has been since you've stuck your cock into a women? It's been nine years. Nine! By the gods you've waited long enough."
"No-one can replace her" Dale found himself replying curtly, not for the first time.
"Granted you're an ugly bastard but you could still find someone for one night. What about that one at the bar. She's a young little thing, you could show her a thing or two" He suggested with a dirty grin.
Dale peered over him at the bar, his brow furrowed as he recognised the women hat now leaned against the rough wooden counter "I know 'er" He muttered before shouting across the rowdy tavern "Oi love, I want my dagger back!"

NoteDerek is a stationary NPC, you can check him out on my CS. Sorry if my reply was late, I've had a couple of exams (and a couple more to go) this week

.

[Shakune]

The ale helped numb the dull ache in the back of Shakune's cranium. She touched her head gently, willing the remainder of the pain to ease away. Her fingers brushed a tomato-size lump on the back of her head and she winced noisily. That would be where I landed on the stall she thought miserably as she finished off her ale.

After ordering two more pints, and hurriedly drinking the first, the courier finally turned around to inspect the crowd. The barman had quietly told her that they were mostly Daggerhands, and his lowered eyes and furrowed brows had indicated to Shakune that he was thought it would be safer for her to leave. Well, petch that. Shakune was not the type of woman to run away from questionable company. Her social circle and client base included individuals from all the Sunberth gangs, and other dodgy folk whose loyalty could be bought for a pint and a nice meal.

"Celebratin'?" The voice came from a cocky-looking young man with shoulder-length brown hair. He gave Shakune a smirk and raised his tankard to her.

She glanced to the faded daggerhand tattoo on the back of his left hand and smiled back to him. "Definitely. And you?"

The man nodded, "aye. Per'aps we should celebrate together?" His grin was a little toothless for Shakune's liking, but she ignored this fact for the time being. Any company was better than none, after all.

"We'll see." The promise was airy and distant on purpose. She tapped the side of her second tankard, "I can't think with an empty drink."

They shared a modest laugh before her companion ordered another two tankards of ale. Shakune's head was fuzzier now, but in that comforting, warm way that came with alcohol consumption. She paced herself with her third ale, but nevertheless twenty chimes later, she was on her fifth. Her skin was flushed now, more the colour of rose gold rather than it's usual copper. The original suitor had been joined by fellow daggerhands, and Shakune stood listening to their boastgul claims of the earlier battle. Some expected a full-blown gang war to commence, whereas others claimed the Sun's Birth had finally been conquered.

Shakune hoped that this was not the case; some of her best clients were members of the 'Birth.

A loud voice - incredibly loud, for Shakune heard it over all the other voices in the tavern - called out. Somehow, she knew it was directed at her and she scanned the crowd with her black eyes. They landed upon the bearded fellow from earlier, the one who had given her the dagger. A lopsided smirk pulled at her lips and she arched a playful eyebrow in his direction. She withdrew his dagger from the waistband of her trousers, and embedded the tip of its blade sharply into the surface of the table in front of her. The dagger stood upright, quivering slightly from the force of her action.

Her message was clear, playful and flirtatious: Come and get it

[Dale Hawthorn]

"Just give me the fuckin' dagger" He muttered under his breath as Derek, the old dog he was, just cocked a curious eyebrow and gave Dale a view of his chipped yellow teeth as his face broke into a wolfish grin. "Know 'er ay? Did she nick that blade from you after you showed 'er 'ow you 'andle your cutlass hmm? Did she 'sharpen it' up for you? I figured it'll be pretty blunt nowadays since it's been a while since you 'unsheathed' it."
Dale could only a muster of a sigh to his friend's responses as he rattled off more euphemisms, fuelled by drunken state and Dale's increasingly furrowed brow. "It ain't like that" He replied, deciding to cut Derek off early otherwise he would never hear the end of it "She was at the market today, hidin' like a coward with a few others. Dumb things were just talkin' while people were dyin'". Before adding in an attempt to change the subject "Speaking of which; where the fuck were you?"
"I was fightin' down by the sea!"
"Why?"
"Some told us too..."
"Fuckin' Hai man, you are one bloody luck bastard to still be alive" He stated categorically, exasperated by the apparent stupidity rife in the ranks of the Daggerhands before seeking more comfort from his tankard.

"That I am, now you go up there and tell you want her in some random alleyway then you can be a lucky bastard."
"Not a chance, have you seen her eyes? They're like empty, black pits" He informed, still slightly unnerved by the faintly magically appearance of those eyes as he wiped the remained ale of from around his lips and onto his sheath "I'm gonna up there, get my dagger then come back and jam it between your ribs."
"Like you could jam anything in anyone anymore" Derek replied as he watched Dale get up from his chair, a sly grin across his face.
"You realize if you weren't my oldest friend I'd 'ave slit your throat by now?"
"Constantly" Derek replied simply before both men burst out in a nostalgic laugh "Now go get her."
"Go fuck yourself."

Dale approached the women, somewhat owing due to the bustling nature of the tavern. It was full most nights too many souls wanted to drown their sorrows after each day as a citizen of Sunberth. As he stepped up to the bar for a moment he completely ignore her "Refill Merv" He said, slamming his tankard down on the bar as a familiar face nodded and took it away. "I see you made it out alive" He noted, talking to her curtly before Merv brought back his tankard, foaming this time before Dale handed him a few coins. "I 'alf expected to find your body when a few us went to collect our dead" He added, for a moment a sad, sorrowful looked flashed across his face "Why them and not her? Why them and not me? Good men with families that depended on them compared to old gnarled men with bits missing that keep lingering on. Dira is a bitch" These thoughts lingered only for a moment before they were drowned out by a flood of ale followed by a puff from his still smoking pipe.

"My dagger" He said, holding out his hand as he twisted round to face her before waiting for her to hand to him herself "I'd like it back".

.

[Shakune]

"I'm a lucky girl." Shakune responded earnestly. "I see you're alive as well. Didn't loose one your precious balls in the process?" Those endless black eyes scanned her new companion briefly; down, up, down and up again to rest of his bearded face.

Then her expression softened, somewhat unexpectedly. When she spoke again, all playfulness was gone and it would be obvious that what she was about to say was truly meant. "I owe you -- big time. Tha' concussion rendered me useless. I'm not normally an 'opeless damsel in bloody distress." She fingered the hilt of his dagger, which still stood erect in the table at her legs. With a sharp yank, she retracted it and placed it back in the hands of its rightful owner. "So finish up yer pint and I'll buy you 'nother one."

She fulfilled her own order, gulping down the remainder of her ale and wiping the excess foam off her top lip before continuing their conversation. "M'names Shakune, by the way." Her black eyes scanned the crowd surrounding them, most of whom had a tattoo that matched Dale's. "These all y'gang mates?" She paused to allow him to respond, "I dunno much about the Daggerhands, though I reckon I've delivered a few curious things to some of yer."

The crowds were singing and celebrating, and the sweet smell of alcohol and smoke hung low in the air. Shakune appreciated it, and the body warmth from all those people. "Truth be told, I dunno much about any of the gangs, beyond the hand who gives me the gold."

Shakune found herself in a strange middle ground regarding all the Sunberth gangs; she had no true alliances with any of them, yet all had used her courier services at least once. She chuckled and shared one specific memory: "Once I delivered something to a Sun's Birth bloke. Package contained the hand of his father, or some such relation, that had pissed off the other gang." It had been a gruesome occasion, but memorable nonetheless.

Now she eyed her companion again, black gazed dropping to his tankard and then back up to his face. "What do you do, other than fight in market squares?" Her hand extended outwards, across the bar, to catch the attention of a server, "Two ales."

She paid her fee and slid one of the tankards to Dale, before raising her own in another silent thanks.

[Dale Hawthorn]

Dale had made the decision to ignore any mention of his bollocks from the women, he was far from interested in any slag that threw themselves his way. "By the gods she persistent, those black eyes must not work properly" He thought to himself, acknowledging the fact that he was far from attractive as his face alone had more scars and chunks out of it than winter the women had seen.

Dale accepted the blade like an old friend; he did not like the thought of having to sleep without the blade beneath his pillow, far too often over the years he had found himself in need of it. He ran a rough thumb across the sharp edge absent-mindedly as she thanked him, it was sincere enough though he doubted whether she was a tough as she claimed herself to be, few people who declared it seldom were Dale had found.

Finishing the last of his ale he tolerated her prattling as he waited for his promised ale, only breaking his silence to explain "They're my brothers..." He said bluntly, not bothering to expand on this answer. It had been a strange moment when he first realised the men he fought and bled alongside in the fruitless battle for power amongst the other gangs had become an extended family but at the end of the day he was a father and would always be one so he had found a family amongst the men and women who did what had to be done for their own families to keep on living.

As the embers of his pipe slowly succumbed to the cold the woman's monologue finally came to a close. He found it worrying that such a woman had found herself in the city defined by its' gangs without harbouring any knowledge about them, Dale could only assume that she was indeed an outsider as he found his opinion of the woman dropping owing to his natural, almost ingrained, dislike of any foreigners in his city. "It's none of yer business and you don't wanna know" He replied curtly and truthfully as he wrapped his hands around his well deserved full tankard "Thanks for the pint" He added before making his way back to his table.

oocI am useless at more social threads, so it might be a good idea to end it here or you can finish it unless you think you can get more of it.

.

[Shakune]

The smirk on Shakune's lips would indicate to the male that she cared little for the sense of mystery he seemed to be creating. Gangs were gangs; they fought, they paraded around the city and most importantly, they paid well. Regardless of what label they used, she saw little differences between the individual Sunberth gangs. Perhaps it was naivety, but Shakune felt it was much more likely to be lack of interest.

The complex and the mysterious bored her; a shadowed figure or a dramatic pause would do little more than to earn a sarcastic roll of her black eyes. It disappointed her that the bearded male she stood opposite to now seemed to be so intent on keeping up appearances, to hold steady this hard-face front of being a gang member. "Well, I hope the battle of worth it. May I presume the Daggerhands now get a discount on any vegetables bought at the market?" Her words were muttered quietly; despite her dislike for the atmosphere of the tavern, Shakune did not have a complete death wish.

She would never understand the need for battle and blood, especially for no worthwhile reason. So one gang might take possession over an alleyway from another gang -- and then what? The same drunkard would still be found shitting in that very same alleyway each night regardless of which gang leader observed it with prideful eyes. So long as she managed to keep her business and money continued to flow from her clients' pockets into hers, Shakune did not care.

When we're all dead and rotting, a dagger tattoo is little help. The thought was surprisingly profound for the half-breed, and for a tick she mentally congratulated herself on such deep thinking. After this, Shakune finished her pint and turned to leave the tavern to search of more modest company.

oocNo problem, I'll get it up for grading

[Orin Fenix]

Grades are Served

 

Shakune

Skill	XP
Observation	2
Medicine	1
Socialization	3
Flirting	2

Lores

• Medicine: No Sleep After a Concussion
• Location: The Pig's Foot Tavern
• Flirting: How to Invite Attention
• Mysterious Man with the Dagger

Extras :

Wonderful read. Concussions are the worst. But seeing Shakune flirt with someone obviously disinterested was fun. In other news, please deduct 2 silver mizas from your ledger for the five mugs of ale you ordered. I think it was five if I miscounted please PM me and I'll correct it. Oh and I'm an idiot, but you no longer have possession of Dale's dagger.

 

Dale Hawthorn

Skill | XP
Socialization | 3
Intimidation | 1
Observation | 2 [/table2]
Lores

• Location: The Pig's Foot Tavern
• Derek: Lecherous and Argumentative
• Shakune: Not So Helpless

Extras :

Please subtract 4 copper mizas for the mug of ale. Also, congratulations on getting your dagger back. It was a short thread but very nice to see the interactions between Shakune and Dale. Hope I get to see more.

[/tab]

Don't forget to edit or delete your grade request in the grade request thread.

If you have any questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to send me a message.