[Guildhall] Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor [Behn]

[Tabarnac]

30th Spring, 511 A.V. Zeltiva was renowned for its seafarers and shipwrights, and the Sailors' Guild Hall was one of the most opulent buildings in the town. The long, two-story edifice shone with granite so polished that the reflections of any passers-by were clearly visible. Massive oak doors split two enormous columns, each over eight feet around. In the modest foyer, a man and a woman were arguing. People going about their business, either from the left hand door that led into the enormous and eponymic guildhall or the right hand door that led to the series of offices with their identical brass plaques, seemed keen to stay and watch as if the flow of foot traffic were a slowly congealing eddy. Whether or not an august member of the Administrative Committee was present, powers within the Guild itself were. Captains and not a few lesser ranked sailors always checked in when berthed in Zeltiva's harbor. This was the sort of thing to fuel gossip for seasons if the story spread just right. Otherwise, it would be forgotten in the pubs after a week or so.

[Behn]

There were times in life when everything worked out perfectly. Where plans weren't made, but everything goes as if you had planned it, and it feels so wonderful when such easiness comes about. Behn had no such luck, therefore, he had to find everything himself. Such as employment. Behn wandered around Zeltiva before deciding the only available jobs would be at a Kelp Bar (which was not going to happen), a university (which just wouldn't work for Behn), or a sailor (which was interesting, but still not ideal). And when Behn thought about it long and hard, he decided for option four, back to the wilderness. He could live fine out there, no problem. Yet during his wanderings, he just happened to stumble across the very grand building, the Guildhall. Behn knew very little of it, but it had something to do with the docks. Little tantalizing thoughts of childhood dreams returned to him as he pictured a ship and crashing waves. Danger, excitement, rough work, and best of all, everyone worked together rather than being corrupt or wicked. What was the point of being evil on a ship when there were perfectly good cities available with traditions to destroy? Behn stepped inside, and spent several minutes bouncing from person to person, asking how he could get hired onto a ship for anything. He didn't want the title of 'Captain' (well, he would like that, but knew better than to ask) of course, but was willing for anything, to learn anything. Navigation? Maps? Hauling cargo? Learning to cook? Whatever it was, Behn would do it and do his best. OOCSo yeah, not sure what to do so I'm going with the vague statement of "asking everybody until someone useful is found"

[Tabarnac]

Though the population of sailors in Zeltiva was in a constant state of flux, most of them at sea unless it was the season of storms when prudent sailors huddled in friendly harbors until the worst of the danger was over, yet there was a network of familiarity. This sailor was once a bosun on that man's ship, while that wench had designs on a captaincy, but that other fellow had been her lover at one point, which ended badly and while he was first officer for that captain, she would never advance without sleeping her way into someone's good graces. Suspicious glances turned toward the newcomer, but for the most part he was ignored as the madding crowd focused on the argument that might become an altercation sooner rather than later. "She's a bitch," someone muttered about the woman in the mush pot. Another agreed, while yet another denied it with an angry glare. There was a jostling and Behn, caught unawares, was shoved forward into someone else who, bad-tempered in general and excitable due to the current show, shoved him further on, and into the fray. The woman steadied him, but glared. The man bristled. "What the petch d'ye t'ink yer doin', landlubber?"

[Behn]

"Son of a... Watch it!" Behn stabalized himself as he turned around, the place was so crowded, and not to mention full of rude rough people, that Behn not only didn't find who shoved him, but was pushed a second time. He stumbled again, but was caught by a woman. He stood back up, about to thank her when she spoke first, and without a hint of kindness. "Land... what? Ah, let me guess. You're the bitch that batch of men over there were talking about?" Behn lifted his right eyebrow as he stared at the woman. Despite not smiling or smirking, he was being a smart ass. "I'm looking for work. Do you know who to talk to about that?"

[Tabarnac]

"Likely so," she replied, the glare turning into a charmingly coquettish flutter of eyelashes for the knot of slanderers and men of calumny. But while she appeared to have a sense of humor, the man who had been arguing with her was not, and Behn's back exploded with pain as he sucker punched him in the kidney. "Hanver," he tsked with a long-suffering roll of her eyes, but the man had already spun Behn around. "What are ye doin' here, pretty boy?" he asked, and smacked Behn insultingly across the face. And there again. "Ye bain't a seafarer, so what business ha'ee wi' us?"

[Behn]

"I'm sure they were talking about someone else." Behn mused with a grin as he also looked back towards them for a moment. Just being in the room made him feel more alive, more rejuvenated. The lingering smell of the sea caked on some of the people here caused his mind to wander briefly, thinking how rough and tough sailors, and crude and foul as they could be, were far from corrupt or evil men. They worked hard, lived hard, and earned their money for it. Be they cruel people at times, they were diligent and respectable, Behn liked that. He looked back at the woman. "So, I don't think I got -- Whore!" Behn's back stood up straight as a rail as his head slung backwards. The kidney shot was a low blow and Behn's instinctual response was to curse and kill the man, but that was wrong. He couldn't be wicked, he couldn't let the taints of corruption follow him from Ravok, not after this many years struggling to escape it. Behn was spun around and struck across the face. It wasn't a painful shot so much as it was an indignifying slap. Behn smirked, despite the stinging of his cheek. "Pretty boy? I don't petch that way." Behn would, of course, retaliate. There was no way he was going to let something so simple as a sea-worthy brute put him down like that. Behn, with both of his hands, would (try to) push the man backwards a step or two, hopefully to stumble him so that Behn could continue with a solid kick to the man's chest before he could recover. In his mind, he saw the man stumbling right before he was sent flying to the ground with a boot-shape dirt stain on his gut. If this turned into a brawl, so be it. Behn felt that proving himself as being equally as rough could only score him a few points. At the very least, he was defending himself. He could always find another vessel, perhaps, to take him aboard.

[Tabarnac]

The kick staggered the man back, but didn't knock him out or over. He came back with a vengeance, grabbing Behn by his shirt and headbutting him with ferocious force. Only luck an instinct prevented him from breaking Behn's nose and possibly driving the broken bone shards up into his brain. As luck would have it, Behn took it on the cheek, and would soon be sporting a nasty bruise there if not a black eye swollen shut as well. But the woman wormed her way between them before further violence could ensue, shoving Hanver back by main force as well as a warning flash in her eyes. "Shove off, you old pirate," she growled, and for whatever reason, he did. Perhaps it was the crowd of men and women standing behind Behn and his buxom savior. A crew, perhaps. Muttering curses, Hanver and several diverse others left the building and only then did the woman turn around and take Behn's face in her hands. "Poor baby," she clucked to a general chorus of snickers. "Well, now. Whatever got into your head just then, shoving Cap'n Hanver around? Do 'ee want to die?"

[Behn]

Behn felt a soothing sense of pride as his foot kicked the man backwards. Preemptive triumph however as his world was sent spinning moments later. Behn couldn't have guessed the man both that quick and that strong, but he guessed wrong. As Hanver was sent packing by the woman, Behn lifted his hand to his face, as if trying to hide some defect or keep it unknown that he was hit. His dazed stares obviously told that he was hit pretty petching hard. The woman, who was still incognito to him, yet obviously demanded respect and held great authority here, gave Behn her undivided attention. She reached out and held his cheeks as if he was some child. He grinned foolishly, perhaps slightly scrambled from that blow he took. "Got into my head? I suppose you mean besides his head. Meh, death is hardly something to fear. Besides, never heard of any 'Captain Hanver' in my life." Behn felt the urge to curse the man behind his back, but that wasn't particularly noble, and even though Behn wasn't exactly a perfect man, he tried to be generally 'Good', whatever that was. It was his opinion of himself which changed on occasion but never really ever varied too far from it's original path. "I guess I owe you something now. Saving me from a Captain Hanver can't be any small task." Being in debt was something he hated. Owing money could easily be fixed. Owing favors, that's when everything got tricky. "Unless you particularly like calling me baby, my name's Behn."

[Tabarnac]

"Behn, baby, why don't you walk me down to the docks and tell me why you're in Zeltiva picking fights with pirates?" She pulled him down for a saucy kiss on the ... well, she missed his mouth, got the corner of it, but one could hardly imagine it was unintentional. Then she released his face and started for the door, he heels of her boots sturdy things, but lending a certain sway to her walk. The crowd had mostly dispersed by now seeing as the fighting was over, but the woman's walk caught more than a few glances from those that remained. But only glances. Apparently she had respect as well. It seemed like the likeliest course for a newcomer to Zeltiva to follow such a one as she, especially if she was taking an interest in his interest in being in the port city at all.

[Behn]

Behn's eyes widened as her lips embrace him. He looked almost like he had just been sucker punched in the other kidney, a faint hint of pain and pleasure. He was a man, but he was also in a relationship once. Then she pulled away and started to exit. Behn, glanced around the room briefly, mainly to make sure nobody decided to pull a knife on him on his way out, and when he was satisfied, he trotted after the woman. It didn't take much to catch up to her, whatever her name was, Behn still didn't know. He moved beside her before slowing to a casual pace, and he sighed. "I wasn't picking fights. He hit me first." Behn chuckled, knowing how childish it sounded for him to talk like that. It was a matter of pride, a dash of self-defense, and ultimately making sure nobody thought him a coward or pansy. He was, however, starting to wonder if perhaps it was a bad idea. Behn lifted a hand to his face, it was going to be all sorts of beautiful colors by tomorrow, maybe even later this day. "I had no idea that bastard was a pirate. It's important people don't think they can petch with you though, you know? Let too many people do it, and you've got an entire city thinking you're weak, worthless, and a coward." Behn glanced at her for a moment, he wasn't sure where she was taking him, or why she was so interested in him, but he felt that someone with so much respect from the regulars, especially enough to scare off the Pirate that nearly whipped his ass, that he'd better go along with whatever she had planned. "So, Havner is a pirate huh?" Behn continued to gently massage his face, convinced that it would only hurt more as he prodded it, gently or not. There was one more thing he could strike off his list of things to accomplish before he died. Fight with a pirate and survive.