Is this a private party, or can anyone join?

[Alea Davenport]

18th Spring, 512
Location: Red Diamond Tavern

Alea was at it again. She couldn't speak anymore, but that didn't stop her from being a nuisance to her friends. She had followed Banir into the tavern, where he was just trying to enjoy a quiet drink, but she wasn't about to let him drink himself into oblivion. There were things she knew he needed to talk about, and while she couldn't ask him about them directly, she could still do everything she in her (admittedly limited) power to get him to talk.

She followed him to the tavern after a hard day's work for both of them, and while he tried to enjoy a drink, she sat next to him and just stared. If her blatant staring and creepily wide eyes did not convince him to start talking, she didn't know what would.

She was so focused on Banir that she took no notice whatsoever of the myriad other bar patrons, which was perhaps unwise. Many of them were Vantha, after all, and some of those Vantha could easily be in... unreasonable moods.

[Banir Ironwood]

As Banir sat at the bar he felt his eyebrow twitching beneath his hood. The mug in his hand was shaking from the nuisance. His eyes where stuck red with a lighter uplifting yellow around the rim. They had been stuck like this for numerous days. Where it not for the fact his emotions couldn't change he'd be rather annoyed and pissed by now. Dark and angry thoughts entered his mind but where mediated by his more uplifting mood. It was a strong conflict of emotions that almost hurt to think about. Thankfully the uplifting feeling in his mind restrained his rage. So at the very least he wouldn't berserk freely and put others at harm. However that didn't stop him from thinking about putting his metal clad fist into Alea's perfectly punch-able face.

As he tried to keep the fires of anger down he turned away from public sight to pull down his scarf and take a drink from his mug. Though he felt no real relief in it as could sense Alea's weird unblinking eyes upon him. It caused a light shiver of rage once again, and he nursed more mead from his mug. Quickly pulling his scarf back up to hide his damaged face, turning to the bar once again. Looking around he almost wondered if someone would help him out and at least get her off his back. Silently he prayed to Izurdin for the strength to bare this eyeing torment. Trying to find another god to pray to, one to hopefully answer his plea and free him from his torment.

Slowly he turned to look over at someone, anyone hoping that they would try to engage her. Talk to her to distract her so he could drink in peace. With little or no hope in his sight he was content with putting his face onto the bar top. The wood was at least more welcoming than the glare Alea kept giving him. It was pissing him off and he slowly began to think that hitting her would be a good idea. He only had two emotions locked in his mind but one was slowly growing. If she didn't stop it then maybe he could make her stop? He only hit his head against the bar top, his mind fighting with itself. It wouldn't be right to hit Alea. She was after all still a young girl. An annoying young girl who really deserved a few hits now and then, but not from him.

[Coren]

Coren was sipping a pint of ale as he sat at the bar, his signature heavy winter's bane robe gone and replaced with something lighter, the heat wave that had avanthal in his grip probably wouldn't have allowed coren to wear his comfortable robe without fainting thanks to the damned heat. Having only a tunic, his trademark mask and a pair of pants on didn't do a thing to help him with the furious mood he seemed to be locked into ever since the disaster happened when spring started and caused nearly the entire city to collapse. And being angry for nearly day's at a time was nearly driving him mad, especially since he didn't have a clue about what was causing it. The original argrument with his parents wouldn't have lingered on for this long! Letting out an annoyed sigh, he just pulled down his mask far enough so he could gulp down the rest of his pint. Slamming it back down on the bar and pulling his mask back up. “Barkeeper, gimme another one of these.” He said in a rude tone. He hadn't tried drowing the anger in alcohol yet, but it seemed just a good plan as any other.

[Krivak]

Krivak had been in a state of confusion, anger, and panic for many days now. Ever since he'd been ripped from his natural self, and forced into this... this... human form of his, he'd been on edge. He'd only assumed this form a handful of times in his entire life, and while everything worked and functioned naturally, he still wasn't comfortable looking so... weak. Bull yaks were strong, mighty creatures! Humans were frail, and died easily. This city that had taken him in, this city of bright eyes, had been locked in chaos. People were saying gods were to blame, others said it was magic. Krivak didn't care who was to blame, just who would change him back. The weather had been strange. It would be cold, then unbearably warm, then somewhere in between. Krivak no longer enjoyed the cold, now that his fur coat was gone. No wonder humans were so frail, they all probably get sick from freezing all the time. But today it was warmer, and Krivak was going about in a pair of slacks some Vantha man gave him. Apparently clothes were mandatory. Though the man's female didn't seem to mind. Krivak had been helping tear things down, move things, and put things up nearly every day now. He was always working. And ever since he'd discovered beer, he'd always made his way to the tavern after he was done. That was the only thing that was better in this form. Krivak pushed open the door and stepped inside. There was a good bit of noise going on, but Krivak had always been able to block that sort of thing out. Like always, he received many stares from the local bright eyes. After all, even though he was in a weak human form, he was much bigger and more powerful than them. As a bull yak should be. He sat down at the bar, the stool creaking beneath his muscular form. The bartender handed him a glass of beer. This is what made work worth while. He downed the golden liquid, the warmth of it pleasing his throat. He never made small talk while here. He drank until he got tired, then he shlumped back to his stall, fell asleep, and went to work the next day. After several chimes, he was eight beers in. The sounds he'd been blocking out, were now coming back with an annoying vengeance. Like a bee stuck in his ear. He snorted a few times in annoyance, a habit from his natural form. And Krivak had a low tolerance for annoyance. Very low.

[Perrin]

Perrin pushed open the tavern’s door. He rolled his head, his neck popping audibly. The last few days in Avanthal had been strange. The locals were scrambling to rebuild after the storm and resulting flood had wreaked havoc throughout the city. Everyone was stressed in some way, even Perrin... the Tavern seemed like the perfect place to let off some steam. With that in mind, he head towards the bar, nodding at the bartender as he took his place at a stool. “An ale, please.” The bartender nodded and slid a drink towards him. Perrin slapped the coin necessary onto the bar and took his glass, bringing it to his mouth. He took a sniff of the ale, exhaled, and then sucked down a gulp. Satisfied, he sipped at it a bit more. As he lowered his mug, he looked around the bar at the patrons. The stool to his right held a yellow eyed man with a mask. Two stools past him was another masked individual, this time with red eyes. The same girl who had stabled his mule was pestering this one, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying it. Look to his left, three stools down was the largest man he’d ever seen. A true giant, he was clad only in a pair of slacks. No shoes, no shirt. He aparently wasn’t very self-concious about his body, although why should he be? The man was a solid wall of muscle. The scars on his face, and the way he drank his beer like water... that was somewhat intimidating. Several empty glasses littered the bar in the front of him, and he showed no sign of stopping. The man was a wall of muscle and a heavy drinker - those things didn’t always mix very well. Perrin sighed, closing his eyes for a second. He tried to clear his mind, block out the steady buzz of the bar. After a few seconds, he grabbed his glass and downed the rest of the ale. With a motion, he called the bartender over. Reaching into himself, he uncoiled a few tendrils of Djed. The bartender walked up, resting his hands on the edge of the bar. “What do you need?” Perrin looked him dead in the eye, channeling the Djed he had taken hold of, through his eyes and into the bartender. He recalled what he had been taught at the University. He fed a little more of the Djed into the bartender, this time channeling through his mouth. “That man over there,” he nodded in Kravik’s direction. In a lower voice, he began... “He’s drinking an awful lot. Listen, things have been pretty bad around here lately - that storm really screwed things up. The last thing we need is more trouble... a guy like that, drunk as he’s bound to be... that’s a lot of trouble.” The muscle-bound man snorted, as if upset. Perrin gave the bartender a look, as if this confirmed his suspicions. The man two seats down, the one with yellow eyes, slammed his glass down on the bar. He demanded another round. Perrin sighed, swearing under his breath. He glanced at the bartender. Swearing again, he stood from his stool and turned towards the man. He rolled his head, popping his neck, then cracked his knuckles. He advanced on the man, grabbing him by the shoulder. Perrin turned him, somewhat forcefully, so that they were face to face. Perrin grinned wryly. He drew back his fist and drove it into the man’s face.

[Alea Davenport]

OOCFor reference, the current seating arrangements as I understand it based on Perrin's description: KRIVAK EMPTY EMPTY PERRIN COREN EMPTY BANIR ALEA

Inexplicably, Alea wasn't getting anywhere with Banir. He seemed to be ignoring her as easily as ever...if not more so! Maybe she wasn't staring hard enough. She opened her eyes even wider, but before she could get results, she was distracted by a familiar voice. She waited for the rush of aggression and enmity that she usually felt when having to encounter Coren... but to her surprise, it didn't come. At most she felt a mild suspicion, but offenses which had seemed so important not long ago felt a bit meaningless now.

She was distracted from these thoughts when another person she recognized came in. It was the man who had arrived a few days previously; she remembered taking care of his mule. She made a point not to look at him directly, not wanting to appear rude (and unaware of any hypocrisy in the sentiment regarding her recent treatment of Banir), the she did watch him out of the corner of her eye, curious what such a newcomer to the city might do. He seemed to be exchanging words with the bartender, but he was speaking too softly for Alea to hear.

The loud bang of Coren slamming his glass on the counter caused her to jump, even though she could see it coming. When the man grabbed Coren's shoulder, she became more alert, even standing slightly without realizing it. When he punched Coren in the face, a familiar emotion boiled up in Alea. Who did this newcomer think he was, coming in here and starting trouble? Couldn't he see that everyone was stressed enough from the chaos the storm had caused?

As her feet charged toward the offending party, she became aware of another reason for her anger. Coren was her nemesis. Attacking him was her privilege! If this man though himself worthy of punching Coren in the face, well, she'd just have to teach him a lesson. She had these thoughts in the brief moment it took her to cross the short distance, raise her fist, and plow it into Perrin's face with all the strength and momentum of a fifteen-year-old girl.

She tried to say something then, she wasn't even sure what, but instead of words, all that came out was a croak, followed by a brief coughing fit. Thinking to sooth her itching throat with liquid, she grabbed Perrin's half-finished ale and took a swing... and at the unexpectedly strong flavor, she immediately spit it back out, right into Perrin's face.

[Banir Ironwood]

His lighter coat rustled against him as he tried to get the bar before his face to comfort him. The heavy iron shoulder guards and armour along his right arm weighed him down in Avanthal's new weather. Fortunately the drinks and the peace of Alea being silent helped. With the unnerving silence and no help from his fellow patrons he turned his senses outward. Listening to the rude voice of the young man to his right. Beyond this someone was whispering something. Though something was all he could make out being that one he didn't care and two he needed more drink. Listening to the light screech of wood upon wood, light foot falls and then.

Wack

Banir raised his head from the bar and quickly turned towards the noise. The red eyes beneath his hood and scarf caught the sight of a man punching another. He felt his heart beat faster in his chest, if a fight did break out he needed to be careful. If he lost his temper while wearing the sharp armour on his right hand. He didn't want a repeat to the last time he had lost his temper and a friend as well. He decided against joining into the fray, that is until he saw Alea jump at the man. With her fist plowed into his face he felt his mouth open beneath his scarf. Slowly he began to realize, maybe a fight might be good for him. That and he couldn't let Alea get into a tussle alone, half the men in this room could throw her over the bar. Quickly he adjusted his scarf wrapping it around his forehead, face, leaving only his eyes exposed.

Quickly standing he grabbed a stool with his armoured right arm lifting it easily enough he set himself into a stance. His leather boots adorned in the hefty armour, the same atop his shoulders, took hold in the wooden floor. Planted strong but ready to move quickly he could feel his anger ready like a the tempest that had so recently came through Avanthal. The adrenaline burned into his system, his muscles tensed and his rage stirred. The berserk hadn't taken hold of him yet but he could feel the power of wrath in his system.

He had no idea who his opponent was but should anyone make a move against Alea. Well the stool he held in his hand would quickly become someone's newest friends, by way of being meeting face to face. With quite a bit of experience in more than a few brawls he was at least capable. With his height and muscle, as well as the iron claw on his right hand. He knew he could at the very least intimidate someone.

His red eyes shifted about the room quickly eyeing up potential opponents. The largest and probably most dangerous was the big guy in nothing but pants. The masked man looked about as strong as Alea, if not weaker. The man that had punched the one in the masked seemed formidable but Banir probably had several pounds on the man. However the biggest guy at the end of the bar looked like the most prominent threat. Considering he looked like he ate rocks for breakfast. But then it depended on his fighting skill.

screw it

The thought rang clear in his head and he just swung the stool in his hand blindly. Avoiding Alea as best he could he put his two hundred and twenty seven pounds into each swing. The lighter coat he wore flapped about his legs as the belt on his hips kept it in place. He heard a solid bang and opened his eyes to see who or what he had hit.

[Coren]

As somebody pulled on his shoulder coren turned around to give the annoying person a piece of his mind while telling him to petching leave him alone. Before he could even get a word out though the rude tikita rammed his fist straight into his face. The force of the hit, coupled with the fact that coren was completely caught by surprise and wasn't able to brace himself, threw him of balance enough that he fell of his bar stool and hit the ground with a dull thud. Letting out a pained groan as he opened his eyes and glared at the moron who had slugged in the face. Usually coren wouldn't even try to use voilence, preferring to get back at whoever did something like this with class, in his own eyes, and a lot less danger to his own life and limbs. Unfortunally, the mental stress that had been building on coren's mind of the previous days and the almost overwelming anger that was locked into his mind didn't make this a usual day no matter how much one stretched its definition. “What the petch do you think you doing you TIKITA!” Coren barked out in fury as he clambered back onto his feet. Pausing for a few moments as suddenly Alea of all people, suddenly dashed past him and plowed her fist into the man's face. Before stealing the bastard's ale and spitting it into his face. Usually coren would have burst out in mocking laughter, especially in the mood he was in right now. But the fact that another guy suddenly made its presence known by trying to brain the other guy in the head with a barstool, seemingly not giving a shyke about alea who stood in the way. Before his brain had caught up with what his body was doing he had grabbed alea in whatever place was able to get a hold on and pulled her out of the way as quickly as possible, himself also backing off from the fight for now. Planning to enact his vengeance when the bastard was to busy with defending itself from the man who acted as if he was a raging bull. He looked over to alea and released her from his grip. “Your fine right? Well help me bring down that moron.” He snapped out too her in his most commanding tone as he pointed towards Perrin.

[Krivak]

Krivak had managed to down two more beers before he noticed the men beginning to fight. He never liked getting into brawls that happened here. They were too easy. He ignored them and down yet another beer, enjoying the feel it gave him. He missed his animal fo-- CRASH! Something wooden had just shattered against his large, muscular back, causing him to lurch forward, spilling the last of his beer everywhere. He snorted. Someone had just challenged the bull, and he'd never lost a challenge. Krivak slowly, calmly stood up from his bar stool. He turned and looked down at his opponent. Why is it always the short ones? He turned back to the bar, grabbed the lip of it, and pulled upward and back. He grunted in strain, his muscles gripping like steel. His fingers gripping the wood began to throb in pain, but with a dull roar, reminiscent of his days as an animal, he ripped off a large slab of wood from the bar. Having used to have worked in the lumber yard in Ravok, he didn't know much, but he did know wood, and solid was better. He smiled at the man that had hit with a barstool, a very unsettling smile. The, as he would in yak form, he roared loudly in the man's face, accepting his challenge. After all, if an opponent couldn't withstand a roar, what kind of bull was he? Then Krivak saw the woman fighting. His bull instinct was to protect the females of the herd. She wasn't of his herd, but since he was a man without one, she unknowingly received his acceptance. Holding out the slab of wood before him in both hands like bo staff, Krivak charged forward toward the man roaring. For that was how a bull fought. His charge would lead him through the man, as well as the other two that he hadn't paid much mind. He had no idea who he would hit, but he was a barreling mass of muscle, wood, and pride. He had to make his way to the female and protect her.

[Perrin]

Perrin relished the follow-through of a well delivered punch. He watched his unwitting target tumble off of his stool, impacting the ground with a dull thud even as his stool was clattering over. After an assault like that, he was sure the man would want to fight back. That was exactly what Perrin wanted. Always the jolly one, he smiled at the man on the ground as he swore. Perrin was sure he’d heard Coren call him a ‘Tikita,’ whatever that was. As the man scrambled back to his feet, Perrin assumed a loose stance. He placed his left foot in front of his right and raised his fists - one outstretched slightly and one held close to his chest. His head snapped to one side as Alea’s fist crashed into his cheek, catching him unaware as he had caught Coren. He turned back towards her, making eye contact. Not a word escaped his lips, even as she reached for his ale. She took a sip - wasn’t she a bit too young? - And promptly spit it into his face. “Petch!” he swore, squeezing his eyes shut as the brew ran down his brow and into his eyes. He opened them again just in time to see Coren grab Alea by the arm and drag her away from her. At the same time, a man bundled in a coat and scarf charged past, swinging a stool like a madman. Perrin awkwardly sidestepped him as he passed, still facing towards Coren and Alea. A second later there was a resounding crash. The bar grew silent for a second. Perrin turned to look over his shoulder and see that the charging man had broken his stool across the back of the heavy drinker - the one he was trying to cut off earlier. The man lurched and spilled his beer all over the counter. He seemed to just shrug off the hit, however. He then set about grabbing the bar and ripping a piece of it free. Perrin turned back to see Coren talking to Alea and pointing at him, but he was convinced there were bigger matters at hand. He turned again to face the man now wielding a section of the bar. He roared into the shrouded man’s face, held his bar chunk out in front of himself and charged. Perrin adjusted his stance to face the man. He glanced down at himself to ensure he had his footing correct. He looked back up in time to spot the impromptu wooden weapon flying towards him, with several hundred pounds of muscle behind it. Krivak bore down on him in an instant, content to charge straight through him. Perrin stepped to the side and dropped into a crouch, his head below the level of the wood. As Krivak passed, he threw a solid punch square at the man’s abdomen, then lunged forward with his elbow to strike at Krivak’s navel as he charged past.