[Flashback] A pint for a fist (Caoin)

[Naama]

Timestamp: Summer 12 509AV It was a dainty little tent compared to the usual proud establishments that littered nearly every city. She could have done with some plastered walls rather than the airy fabric that stretched over her head to offer some semblance of security, but it would have to do, especially considering it was the only place Naama could find that housed casks of ale. Endrykas had it's perks, as well. If the pirate ever got herself into a thorny predicament she could simply snatch a horse from some local stable and be off into the wild sunset, carefree and alive. Of course, that was her naivety when it came to Drykas and their sacred equines. For the moment, the Myrian was content with plopping herself down on one of the stools by the counter, sipping away at a cup of cold, delicious ale. The tent was drowning in the cacophony of voices, both young and old, men and women, all speaking in a language Naama could scarcely understand. Her own Myrian-accented Common was difficult for people to comprehend when all they knew was the Common simple humans spoke from the east. It took her a good ten minutes to explain to the bartender that she wanted a pint of ale, and by Zulrav's thundering arse she was going to enjoy it. There was no lack of stares in this place either. She assumed most people had never come in contact with a Chaktawe, thus they never understood the deep, almost wicked hue of her ebony eyes. One porky man with a polished bald head and a large auburn beard glared at her menacingly from his side of the counter. "What'chu lookin' at, girl," He barked, slamming his tankard on the counter. "I wasn't, as a matter of fact." "I got them chills on my skin, like someone be watchin'." Proky proclaimed with a loud belch. "Must be something in the water." Porky didn't appreciate that answer. He shoved the stool back as he heaved his great girth off the seat, turning his body to address the halfbreed. "You be unnatural, is what it is. Black eyes, like a monster's, those are. You be meanin' to stab me and I wouldn't even know it." "Is that so?" Naama replied, amused, "You poor, poor thing. Paranoid about every little detail you don't find to your satisfaction. By all means, sir, finish your tankard of ale, I sure as well will with mine." With a growl, Porky lurched forward with a meaty fist, as if meaning to grasp her jewels to jerk her into eye level, but Naama was too quick, and sidestepped just in time to avoid the burly arm. "You little rat," He bellowed, spit flying through the air. "A pretty rat, if you please."

[Caoin]

Baultime’s Barrel was well known amongst the denizens of Endrykas as the best place to find a good drink and an even better time. It was always the loudest pavilion in the city, full of raucous laughter and shouting. If there weren’t some Emerald clansmen entertaining the patrons with tales of their brave exploits in the Sea, or a bard performing, there was usually a fight involving some overly intoxicated Drykas and an outsider. Baultime’s had the usual drinks that one would find such an establishment and because Endrykas was always moving and trading with various cities on its route, some good imports could be found as well. All in all, it was the best kind of place to seek some good entertainment after a hard day of work. And that was why Caoin found herself in a cozy corner of Baultime’s, her pretty little ass settled in a wooden chair with her booted feet propped up on a table, watching the patrons and outsiders with mild interest as she enjoyed a tankard of ale.

Caoin’s mild interest lasted until the moment a rather large fellow decided to interrupt her thoughts with some loud, drunken bellowing. The man was barking at a woman sitting on the opposite end of the bar from him, a rather strange looking woman in Caoin’s opinion. She was not like anyone that Caoin had ever seen before, her eyes being pitch black. The man seemed to think that this woman was staring at him, yelling something about her being a monster with those black eyes of hers. Far as Caoin had noticed in her observations, the woman had merely been sitting at the bar enjoying her ale before the man had started blabbering on about her. Of course, the woman’s retorts seemed to confirm her assessment of the situation. The more Caoin thought about it, the more it seemed that the man really was paranoid. The woman’s black eyes would certainly make it easy to assume that she could be looking at you, when really she wasn’t.

She had anticipated that the argument wouldn’t simply end with the two going back to their ales as the woman suggested, and there was no surprise when the man attempted to attack the stranger. Caoin watched the rotund gentleman take a swing only to have the woman sidestep his attack. The stranger seemed like she would be quite capable of handling herself, women were always underestimated, until Caoin noticed a taller, lankier fellow coming up behind her. Oh dear, it seemed that Porky had a friend. ‘Such a sneaky, little Weasel,’ Caoin thought to herself as she slid her feet off the table and rose from her chair.

The Drykas woman was built for speed and maneuverability, rather than brute strength, and that’s what she relied on in fights. She wove her way through the drunken crowd and furniture, moving at a quick pace so as to catch Mr. Weasel before he could clock the strange woman from behind. Caoin didn’t like cheaters. She reached out with one arm, grasping the back of Mr. Weasel’s shirt and yanking with all her might in order to throw him off balance. As the skinny weasel man stumbled backwards, Caoin’s free arm moved to slide around his neck and pull him towards her. “Now now, I don’t think the lady was fighting with you, mister,” Caoin smirked. She wasn’t aiming to start a fight with the man in the establishment, but rather, was hoping to keep one from happening or to move it outside. No sense in causing any trouble for the owners of Baultime’s, especially since she didn’t particularly care to be banned from the place. Where else would she find a good mug of ale if not at Baultime’s?

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[Naama]

Porky reeled forward while Weasel was caught in Caoin's less than intimate embrace. Not done with this little chat I see? A grin curled itself on her lips, flashing her white smile. She sidestepped once again, sending the heavy man crashing with a resounding thud onto the floor. Dust puffed into a cloud in the air and settled in a fine powder over the fallen giant. Naama glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the Drykas woman with an inquisitive look. She looks deceptively young, but fierce. Like a Myrian. "Quick moves you have there, sweet thing. Are you a fighter, perchance?" She snickered as Porky hollered for Weasel to help him up. And yet Weasel seemed to struggle in the woman's tactful grasp. After several seconds of flailing Porky managed to ease himself up, heaving his great chest in labored breaths. "OUTSIDE!" He roared, "This isn't over, you wretched bitch." Naama tsked sweetly. "I wouldn't want to humiliate you in front of all these people, big boy." There were a few men who chuckled from their seats, but Porky's patience had reached it's limit. His face turned a furious shade of red, piggish eyes narrowed into a glare. He's not used to women who defy him, I see. He charged like a frothing bull, meaty hands outstretched. Naama unsheathed her hooked swords almost as swiftly as a seasoned veteran. Something flared from her thigh, and in mere seconds the hooks of her blades wrapped around Porky's thick neck. With a jerk, his face smashed into the nearest table, shattering it with the sheer weight of his body. "Don't cross me, sugar."

[Caoin]

Caoin looked over the shoulder of Weasel man at the foreign woman with the strange eyes. That woman was clearly a fighter, judging by her moves. Unfortunately for Caoin, she was not so good at unarmed combat, and she could only look at the woman, her face contorted in an expression that clearly said ‘no’. What was good for Caoin, was that Weasel couldn’t see her face, so at least he would think she could fight. Well, Caoin was hoping that would give her the advantage, she was sadly very much mistaken. Weasel was stronger than he looked, and a better brawler than she, even if he was drunk. While Naama was busy with Porky, Caoin soon found herself equally as busy with Weasel, if not more so considering her lack of experience.

Weasel reached back, grabbing at Caoin’s shoulder and pulling as he bent forward, lifting Caoin off her feet and over his shoulder. Weasel lifted, flipping her onto the ground in front of him. She landed with a hard thud that winded her slightly, “Huagh,” Caoin groaned as she looked up at Weasel’s skinny, pallid face. He sneered at her before letting out a nasally sounding laugh.

“You look good on your back, sweetheart. How about you give us a show while you’re down there?” His voice grated against her nerves, but not nearly as much as what he’d actually said. Brown eyes narrowed at the face that hovered above hers. Somehow, he appeared even more ugly to her than he had before, perhaps it was his nasty attitude coloring her view of him, or maybe he was just as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside. Caoin’s face twisted in anger and she literally growled at the man. Raging hard, Caoin’s fingers curled into a fist and she launched her arm at the man’s crotch. Her response to his taunts was greatly unexpected but he managed to stagger back out of reach of her fist and she growled again, this time in disappointment.

“Come back here, bastard,” she hissed between clenched teeth, in common. Caoin rolled onto her hands and knees. The toes of her boots pressed hard, digging into the ground beneath her as she launched herself at the sexist weasel. She dropped her shoulder, turning her body slightly and aiming to tackle the bean-pole of a man. He may be bigger, but damn if he wasn’t at least going to be winded if her full-body tackle hit him. Unless she dropped herself lower and aimed for his legs… then he was just going to go down. Caoin couldn’t spare another glance at the woman she’d been helping out, and it didn’t appear they were going to be moving the brawl outside, but at this point, none of it really mattered. She needed to keep her head in the game and focus on her own target. She’d introduce herself to her fellow combatant after they’d taken out the trash. And then maybe she’d buy the woman a mug of ale and discuss with the owner of the establishment how things were going to be fixed or paid for.

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[Naama]

Naama had her sharp gaze fixed on every miniscule detail she made. Every move, every gesture, every twitch, right to the moment Weasel had her on the ground. The Myrian woman watched with a smug smile, resting against the counter. Porky had long since slid with a thump onto the floor, unconscious, a dribble of spit pooling beside his fat cheek. That's right, sweet girl, show him that a Drykas woman is not to be trifled with. Weasel was far more disciplined in the arts of combat than his portly friend. But it was Naama who stuck out the leg that unbalanced the agile opponent. Caoin's tackle would have struck him square in the gut, sending him collapsing against the counter, every glass and tankard atop it crashing into a midden heap on the ground. Liquid splattered everywhere, soaking the man to the bone. "Oh, drat, my foot must have slipped." An arm extended to help the Drykas woman up. Laughter erupted around them from the various patrons, calling jests to the two beaten men. "Are you hurt, kitten?" Naama inquired, glancing her over. She paid no mind to the barkeep, who was surely up in arms about the destruction they'd caused in his establishment. "Men just never learn."

[Caoin]

Caoin’s tackle connected with the thin man’s abdomen as the strange woman’s foot moved out to trip him. The Weasel collapsed against the counter, leaving a mess in his wake, and Caoin felt bad for the poor owner who just lost several glasses and a bit of furniture to the impromptu bar brawl that the two men had started. Hopefully the bar owner would sensible enough to for the drunkards to pay the cost for the repair and replacement of what had been broken. The stranger had merely been defending herself, while Caoin had stepped in simply to defend the stranger and attempt to keep the lankier gentleman from causing more damage. He’s the one who had decided he wanted to fight anyway. Caoin looked at her soaked opponent and then up at the woman who offered her a hand, and then kindly accepted to offer, allowing the woman to help her back to her feet.

The Drykas woman gave the other woman a firm handshake before she started to dust herself off as she responded to the woman’s question of concern, “I’m fine, thanks. You look like you came out well on your end too.” The same could not be said for Porky, who looked like he wasn’t going to feel well when he woke up the next morning. Of course, Weasel wasn’t going to have the most pleasant of mornings either. She imagined both would wake the following morning with headaches, at the least. “I agree, they’re a rather stubborn lot,” Caoin nodded with a chuckle. The amusement was short lived as the tender of the bar stomped his way over and Caoin turned to deal with the man, who was demanding to know who was going to pay him back for the damage that had been done.

“They started the fight, we were merely defending ourselves,” Caoin began, speaking in Pavi. She wasn’t sure if the strange woman understood what was going on, but she doubted that she was going to be willing to deal with the angry owner and even less willing to pay for damage that wasn’t really her fault. The two women had tried to take the fight outside, after all. “Demand the miza from them,” Caoin continued, all the while animatedly gesturing to the two men. The owner didn’t seem too pleased with this solution since they were both out cold and he couldn’t get his payment on the spot. The Drykas girl sighed and pointed to the decorations on her outfit that indicated her clan and pavilion, “I’m from the Silverstrider pavilion, if you can’t get your payment from the men, send word to my family. I will pay for the damage.” It wasn’t an ideal offer for her, but the woman she had helped had seen enough trouble for the evening, there was no sense in inconveniencing her further.

“Now, if you have no further arguments, another mug of ale for myself and whatever the lady there was drinking,” and Caoin nodded in the direction of the strange female warrior before promptly turning her attention back that way. “I’m Caoin, by the way,” she offered an introduction to the woman, speaking in common tongue once again. “Have a seat, I ordered more drinks,” she hooked her foot under the rung of a stool that had knocked over in the scuffle and pulled it upward with her boot tip, grabbing it as soon as it was high enough for her to reach and setting it upright. She dusted off the top of the seat and motioned for the woman to join her as she settled on the stool next to it. The bartender seemed content to let the women pay him for more drinks and drop the subject of the damage done, for the time being at least. Caoin was sure she would hear about it later, because she had the distinct feeling that the drunkards who were the real cause weren’t going to be able to pay up. “So, who am I sharing a drink with,” Caoin asked of the woman as they waited for their drinks.

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[Naama]

She felt a tinge of pride for the Drykas' accomplishments. Two men down, and two women remain standing. The scene was painfully reminiscent of past events. "I always tend to come out well," She winked and grinned, grabbing herself the nearest seat to plop back down on the counter, where tipped glasses rested forlornly in puddles of ale. As Caoin and the barkeep began their dispute over the payment in damages, Naama lifted the empty tankards with a frown. That was good ale, that was. I hope those bastards are happy. When a fresh new mug of brew was set before her, Naama gladly took a long draught before addressing the Drykas girl. "Naama," She answered, "Of the Shadow Hand, if you'd like what you people call a 'surname'. I'm just your regular, little old wanderer drawn in for a need to drink and a lust for new sights." She took another sip. "So I take it those Drykas have never seen a Chaktawe before. I suppose I can't blame them. They're as alien to me as they are to you. I hope you learned a new method to discipline your future husband should you be single, I'm sure that lanky fellow will feel it in the morning." She quirked a brow, "What's your story then, Caoin of the Drykas?"