Open The Pig's Foot Polka....

[Faylon Kwanda]

68th of Summer, 515 Pig's Foot Tavern Evening ...the Pig's Foot Tavern was an easy place to find. Locals knew it by heart. Travelers knew it by tale. Anyone who had heard anything about Sunberth had heard about this tavern. It was the stories that made the Pig's Foot as appealing as it was dangerous. Muggings outside the tavern were common, one wrong move might leave you with a knife in your back and brawling was just as welcome inside as the muggings were outside. Sunberth was a rowdy place and there was no rowdier tavern in the city than the Pig's Foot. No wonder that is exactly where this tale begins on the eve of the 68th day of Summer, 515... ...the door to the Pig's Foot was pressed wide. Moving behind the swing of the wood carried by rusty hinges Faylon Kwanda stepped into view. Wearing a travelers cloak, leather armor beneath it among his common trousers and a tunic the most prominent item he carried was a Longsword, its hilt tipped forward with his right hand lain across it. Smelling like the road and in need of a bath there was no denying the man had been walking for some time. In fact he'd come all the way from Zeltiva after deciding the learned city was progressing a little to slowly for him or his liking. Eyes scanned the interior of the tavern quietly as he stood in the entrance before moving inside, stepping out of the way as he did so and looking back over his shoulder towards his companion..."This is the place."...he stated as though his words were matter of fact but the truth was Logen would know as much as he did, maybe even more being that he had some experience here in Sunberth... ....his eyes narrowed Faylon tapped his fingers against the hilt of his Longsword slowly before moving further into the bar. Footfalls carried him easily, a measured stride leading him as he crossed the bar room floor and navigated his way around other patrons, stepping through damp puddles of spilt ale that had crashed to the floor by mishap or circumstance... ...when he finally found a table it was unoccupied save for a lone drunk deep asleep after imbibing to much drink and laying a hand across the mans shoulder and yank backwards and to the side. The Drunk didn't show any signs of resisting as Faylon tossed him back out of his seat before taking it for himself. Sitting down Faylon caught the attention of a wandering bar maid and motioned her closer...."Pitcher of Ale with two cups."...he said, putting emphasis on the two by using his fingers, then he'd have leaned forward and let his arms shift across the table as he used his elbows to make himself comfortable while addressing his companion..."Sunberth."...he exhaled as he said the name..."Looks like it lives up to its reputation so far."...as if there was ever any doubt...

[Logen]

The lean wolfish physique of the washed up sellsword stepped closely behind Faylon, with his scraggly dark hair, dark blue eyes and a stubble of beard. He reeked to the high heavens of a man that had traveled long and hard. Though his stench would have been masked by the many odors that had assaulted Logen’s sense of smell. From scent of defecation and death, cheap ale and unwashed and heavily used whores all misted in a fog of tobacco smoke. The older man took in a deep breath, taking it all in for all it was worth to him “Yup! Smells like shit” Logen snarked in his sunberthian accent “Home sweet home!” Logen kept pace with his younger travel companion as they swathed through this wretched hive of villainy and scum. The pup seemed to prefer to rest his hand upon the hilt of his sword out of proper instincts to such a dangerous environment. The elder wolf trailing him, though a talented swordsman preferred to keep his hand closer to the knife sheathed to the small of his back. Such tight quarters would render the longsword useless and he knew his forward companion knew of such. The sellsword worried not for he knew the pup’s fists were as deadly as his own blades were. Didn’t take them long to find a proper table and with the quick eviction of its lone occupant by Faylon made the claim cemented. Logen would step over the unconscious body, taking the chair to Faylon’s right and back to the wall. Without hesitation he would snatch up the drunk’s abandon cup and brought it to his nose to a quick investigation of its origins. “Ahhh, this man obviously had no taste… nor coins!’ With that the old man would skull the cup of his disgusting warm cheap ale and muscled it down his gullet with practiced skill. Logen would place the cup back on the table and slid it towards center before resting far back into his wooden chair, tipping and rocking it back on two legs as he got comfortable. His right hand never straying far from the hilt of his short blade. It had been some time since he had been home, he did not know what kind of homecoming would there be for him as he sure as hell did not leave many friends in his wake. “Now ya brought me back to this shithole, lets go over your agenda once more to remind me again why I followed your sorry ass here?”

[Shakune]

Amongst the clamour and general chaos of the Pig's Foot, Shakune found herself pinned against a table by a particularly burly-looking individual. It took the drunk courier a few ticks to realise that hat was happened, and the beginnings of a frown had started to crease her brows when she heard a sickly sweet voice speak out her name, "well, well, well. If it isn't Shakune." Two women now stood before her, one wearing a particularly ugly pout whilst the other spoke with an aggressively kind smile on her lips, "the infamous black-eyed courier of Sunberth and even more infamous Sunberth slut."

That final word was spat out loudly, causing a few near drinkers to turn around to watch this scene unfold. Somewhere, a male voice cried out "Yeah! Bitch fight!"

Only yet again, Shakune's inebriated state had her utterly confused. Who were these women? She vaguely recognised them, though she assumed this was due to them looking like every other haggard woman who trawled the streets of Sunberth. The city did not breed pretty women, she'd learnt.

"Aw, what's wrong, Shakune?" The original speaker said, her bottom lip protuded below her upper lip in a sarcastic act of pity, "cat got your tongue? Or you been sucking too many cocks, so you've finally lost your voice?"

Well, that's uncalled for.

"No such thing as too many." Shakune replied lamely, a shrug of her shoulders accompanying this philosophical declaration.

This infuriated the two women even more. They shared a withering look between them before the female who had previously stayed silent finally spoke: "Look. We understand that you've got nothin' in your life save for that shitty courier shop of yours. We feel for'ya, we really do." Slowly, the woman stepped closer to Shakune, who still found herself pinned against the table behind her by a spade-sized hand. As the woman came closer, Shakune stared at her face, desperately trying to attach a name to it. Brown hair, brown eyes... Her black eyes dropped to the woman's hands. A small gold ring embraced the fourth finger on her left hand, whereas her right missed the pinkie finger.

Gasping, Shakune looked back up to the woman's face with an expression of proud discovery, "you're four fingered Frieda!" The woman came to a dull stop, her mouth dropping open and her eyebrows jumping up to her forehead. This reaction only cemented Shakune's previous hypothesis, "yeah! You're Vince's wife. We call you four-fingered Frieda." And then finally, the metaphorical penny dropped. It just so happened that Shakune and the aforementioned Vince usually called his wife four-fingered Frieda just after a passionate session of fucking. Their affair had been going on for at least three seasons now, with no sign of letting up. Vince had always assured Shakune that his wife had no idea about his adultry, but now that seemed no longer to be the case.

Four-fingered Frieda glanced back to her comrade. The woman's previous confidence had disappeared the moment Shakune had jeered at her cruel nickname. Flashes of childhood bullies filled Frieda's head, and she sank back away from Shakune sadly.

"Just, listen you little whore." Fortunately for Four-fingers, her companion was filled with a new rage. She jabbed a finger towards the courier, "just stay the petch away from our husbands."

With that, their party exited the tavern. Shakune was left reeling against the table she had previously been held against. The rest of the Pig's Foot returned to their drinks and conversation, quite disappointed by the lack of a fight between the women. Eventually, she slid her black eyes to the men that sat on the table she half-sat on. After briefly glancing at their faces (and approving that they all looked at least semi-attractive), she asked, "any of you got wives?"

[Faylon Kwanda]

..."Aye, you followed me to this shithole."...came the smooth response that spilled from Faylon's mouth, his eyes having come around to focus on Logen before he explained the situation to the old man..."You'll recall when we spoke about it that Zeltiva was to civilized a place."...all it had given Faylon was several bodies and a handful of disturbances on the docks with nothing to show for so he shrugged..."Sunberth seems like a natural place to make a little coin. Someone must need a Bodyguard and there'll be plenty of opportunities to make our names."...no one here knew him and he wagered that no one remembered the sellsword known as Logen which meant their problems would be nil to begin with. There was more to say but then something caught Faylon's eye as it unfolded in the tavern. A confrontation involving several women... ...he heard the name Four Fingered Frieda and it made him chuckle. Any woman with a title such as that could do to find herself a better husband. Nonetheless it seemed the confrontation was two on one until the copper skinned woman jeered at one of them and they made a hasty retreat. During this time the girl had been left reeling, pinned, to the table where Faylon and Logen sat until her accusers left. Looking up at her Faylon smiled, the corners of his mouth rising slowly..."Not the last time I checked."...though he hesitated when he glanced over at Logen..."My friend may have many wives though, I'm not entirely sure he remembers himself."... ...by this point Faylon had started looking more closely at her, especially at the endless depths of her dark orbs. Chaktawe, he recognized her race though he'd only ever met a rare few in his life. "Why don't you join us?"...he invited her..."We were just discussing what brought us to Sunberth."... ...Faylon continued leaning forward in his chair, arms on the table where he was sitting, while he drank in the figure of the woman, tilting his head to the side at one point before asking her..."What's your name?"...he may have caught it being said when the women had confronted her but he wasn't sure. The Barmaid had returned by then too, pitcher in hand and with two cups which she set down on the table, Faylon paid her out of his own purse then slid one of the cups towards the woman he'd invited to sit with them seeing as how Logen had taken the cup left behind by the drunk they'd evicted from the table previous...

[Logen]

The commotion brought delight to the old man as he watched the hens squabble over who’s meat was in who and belonged rightfully where. Didn’t matter to Logen, he just liked watching the women’s curves jiggle with every jostle and squawk. The sell sword lived for the small things in life, a day at a time and this very moment the show before him was getting him aroused. “Aye, I did follow you back here Faylon! Don’t know if that makes me a desperate man or an opportunist” He chuckled as he watched the group of hens let up on the lone, beautiful woman that they were accosting. He watched the herd leave, his eyes drinking in every bounce and giggle they made. He cared not if they were attractive or homely looking. He wasn’t man illed with selective taste for his standards were close to nill. The recently attacked female stayed at their table and perched herself slightly upon it. Such a good lass, knowing the trade craft well. Logen let a predatorial grin escape from his seasoned and aged mug. The jibe Faylon had made forced the sell sword to once again chuckle for the two had not traveled long with each other but seemed to grasp each other with ease in most assumptions. He bit the tip of his lip, grin still full as his eyes ravaged every inch of Shakune and all her exotics. “ I may have had a wife or two, maybe three in my time. I stop counting” He continued to chuckle adding in on Faylons crack upon the older man. “Does that make me more attractive or less?” He would question the attractive stranger. “Before you answer that…..” The wench had come back with their ale and without missing a beat he poured all three cups full. He noticed that he himself was shafted to the used cup but he understood where Faylon’s intentions were targeted. The pup was making his move but maybe the old dog had a few moves yet to out maneuver the younger in the games of seduction. “Come Love!” Logen would slide his chair out futher from the table, patting his thigh for the woman to come take a seat upon his lap “ Come sit and drink this pup’s ale! He is buying tonight and I have no problems in indulging….. nor do I have problems in sharing” He smirked with a wink.

[Shakune]

The two men were distinctively different in appearance: one older and perhaps a little washed up, whilst his companion was younger with striking blue eyes. It was the latter who initially responded to Shakune's question, but she nevertheless slid a hungry wink in the direction of his more senior drinking buddy. In a single night she had lost two of her married lovers, and there was thus two spaces in Shakune's imaginary little black book. She planned on keeping both men sweet on her for now -- because after a few pints, who knew what could happen?

She considered what the two men said in response to her question before replying: "Well, having no wife is certainly a bonus over having many," again her black eyes flittered between the two men, lingering on the older as she said, "but more wives, more risk I guess, so I won't count you out just yet. And plus, sharing is fun," she added, her words loaded with barely concealed implications and dirty thoughts. Shakune finished with a wolfish smile.

"Thank you, such kind gentlemen." She nodded to each of the men in another silent thanks for the ale, before sliding herself into the free seat and bringing the tankard up to her mouth. When Shakune licked the foam from the ale off her top lip, she did it in such a way that was slow and lingering, dragging her tongue across her top lip in a weighted smooth movement. "Oh, m'name's Shakune. What're you two gents called?" she began, placing her mug of ale back on the table and resting her chin on her hand.

After the two men had given their names, Shakune would eventually respond to what the younger male had declared their previous conversation to be about. "I've been in Sunberth for a coupl'a years now, but originally came here when my da's ship docked. But then he went sailin' in the big sea in the sky," as ever it struck her how cleanly and easily she mentioned her father's death, when at the time she had been wrecked with grief. "What about you two, been here long?"

[Fiachra]

Do not go to Sunberth. Well that helpful piece of advice had basically guaranteed that that was precisely what 'Chra was going to do. It had taken over a weeks flight to get there, travel time was reduced by the whole being able to take the most direct route because of flying bit, but it was still the longest journey the young Kelvic had taken so far.

She'd foraged on her way, ensuring her belly stayed full, flying burned a decent amount of energy after all. Her Raven form, while undeniably useful and something she loved, was not made for hauling supplies. In fact the only thing she had with her was a single gold rimmed Miza on a thong about her neck. She just ducked out of it before she switched and either wore it as a bracelet or spent it. Usually spent it. It was handy to have however, and when she'd thought of it she'd felt particularly pleased with herself. Look how clever she was!

Tired wings eventually brought her into the famed, or more correctly, infamous town, and exhaustion was forgotten as her drive to find novelty took over. To experience. To see.

It was certainly an education after the simplicity of the Outpost, and the rigidly enforced, lawful, Sylaris. In the first hour she saw several people robbed, one stabbing and any number of shady dealings and lecherous activities. Not that any of this struck her as particularly bad or evil. Her moral compass was.. Well largely non-existent. Unformed as of yet. Things were merely interesting or not. An immediate danger to her or not. Possible for her to accomplish or not. Right and wrong rarely figured into her thinking.

In any case, if just flying over the city had been exciting, she wanted to get a closer view of the inhabitants. Preferably not the stabbing one though. Taverns were good for people watching, plus you could get a drink if you wanted! This bit of reasoning done, 'Chra dipped a wing, angling through the skies, darting through an open door as a patron entered a particularly lively looking tavern, barely avoiding the arms swung in her direction with a curse as she did.

A beam became her perch, she preferred to get a birds eye view of a situation before diving in. She was a canny bird after all, she might have been foolish, but she was not outright stupid. Usually. Besides, the bits and bobs of information she had found suggested that the majority of Kelvics in the city were slaves, and while 'Chra had the usual drive to serve and please, she also quite liked doing what she wanted when she wanted to do with it. To be hooded or even worse, caged? No thank you.

So while foolish enough to come to Sunberth, at the very least she had the sense to look over the situation she'd put herself in. Which meant the Pigs Foot now had a large, glossy black Raven with a gold-rimmed Miza around it's neck sitting on it's roofbeams.

[Logen]

Logen's re-adjusted his position, scooting the chair closer to the table as the woman named Shakune politely denied his open lap as a perch. Oh well, the night was young and the old wolf was not easily discouraged for if anything he was a persistent and stubborn hunter. Logen would grip his cup and lift it to his mouth taking in the ale before answering the lady's question. "The name is Logen" He would reply in a rugged tone of voice, and now onto the inquiring of what their purposes were here in sunberth. The sell sword would slight his travel companion a dagger filled stare before placing his focus back upon the pretty woman sitting across from him. "Aye, I was born and raised in this cess pit. Made my escape a few years back and this son of a bitch... " His black maned head would jerk towards Faylon outing him in this conversation "brought me back with the promise of coins to be made" The old man sighed in disbelief and self shame "seems i am a desperate man!" Logen would raise his glass once again to his lips, this time he caught the pecular sight of a black raven perched up on one of the ceiling beams. "hmmm" He would grunt just before taking a long sip and back to the company at hand. "Now let me cut to the chase sweetheart? Is your company earned or is their a price tag on the pleasure?"

[Shakune]

"Must be quite some coin you were offered." Shakune said mildly, in acknowledgment of the fact that Sunberth was far from a desirable location. That said: she had grown fond of the anarchistic city. It suited her rough nature and it was one of the few cities where it was actually socially acceptable to be blind-drunk in the middle of the day. Sunberth also crafted a certain type of man, not unlike the aged sellsword that sat next to Shakune now: Coarse, tough, with a mild tendency for violence...

Just her type.

Drinking deeply from her ale once again, the courier allowed herself to smile and wink towards her older male companion. He had laid in his interest in her openly onto the table before them. And she would, of course, return the favour. Shifting her chair closer to his, Shakune slid to the edge of the seat and pressed her leg against his. Afterward leaning forwards to place her lips close to his ear, she declared lowly, "for you, there's a heavily discounted price." One hand rested on the table to her left, whereas Shakune's other hand drifted absently to his chest, trailing down and down...

She sat upright again, glancing around the tavern briefly as if to ensure that there were no more aggrieved wives heading her way. Black eyes landed on a black bird, and Shakune was distracted by the tavern raven just for a tick before returning her focus back to her company. Only this time, she turned to the as yet unnamed, younger, companion of Logen's, "is three a party or a crowd in this instance?" She asked innocently, raising the tankard to her lips again.

Well, it never hurts to ask...

[Ashe]

Ledger UpdateDark colored Tunic = 5 sm Tanned Stocking = 4 sm Undergarments = 1 sm Shoes, Sandals = 2 sm Total 1 GM 1 SM Ashe quietly wandered into the Pig's foot tavern, It has been many days since she mustered the courage to go walking around by herself, especially in the evening, and the young woman looked around at the patrons inside. A couple men, one of them being so bold to raise his voice to where even she could hear him from the door, A local business woman, owns a business being a courier, and a strange sight. A raven sitting on the roof beams, Even though the young lady couldn't see the golden miza tied to the bird's neck, she found it's presence strikingly odd, and for a few ticks she stood staring at it. 'How did such a being come though the door? Isn't it supposed to be afraid of us?' Ashe thought to herself as the woman leaned against the wall for a moment. Numbers were not as thick as the young woman hoped but she turned towards the bar and sat down waiting for the bartender's attention. The conversation between the local business woman and the two other men began to catch her attention when the louder of the two men looked up to the roof for a moment. After doing so he asked "Now let me cut to the chase sweetheart? Is your company earned or is their a price tag on the pleasure?" and the phrase brought tense moment of concern to Ashe's face. Sure the young woman had seen the businesswoman once before but was it worth it to become involved herself even though the question was not directed at her.