Timestamp: Spring 5, 513 AV Mongoose sat on the tallest bar stool, staring up at the many skulls lining the tavern. She had a small mug of beer sitting in front of her, listening to the patrons of the bar, but they weren't the ones that held her interest. The one that did was a very gruff looking man, covered in bruises, mainly his face. She noticed he was drinking rather clumsily with his left hand, the knuckles scraped up and bruised. She peered over his arm, and saw his hand laying on the the bar, black, blue, purple, heavily bruised, possibly broken. She took a sip of the awful ale, "Hopefully you won that brawl, friend." She turned her head to him, hoping he'd take the bait. He looked over at her, and she saw that his right eye was swollen shut, "That'd been nice, that petcher beat my arse like a drum. All over some 'ore, this fire haired skank. I were just flirtin' wit' her, an' he starts wailin' on me." The man was human, and didn't look particularly suited for a fight, large, lumpy, slow. "I'd give anyt'ing ta just see dat brown toofed smile knocked off 'is block 'ead." The little clay mongoose nearly split her head smiling, "Well then, I think we can make an arrangement." |