Lochinvar grins. "I can tell you, we do hang out here sometimes."

A couple of Vartans sitting next to Lochinvar nod in agreement with the halfbreed, as they regard the inquisitive Lapi seated across from them. "So," one of the Vartans, "Baublebeak", scrawks, "whats you wants know about dock?"

The bartender, a Vartan named Jakka, polishes a glass mug with a well-worn rag, keeping a wary eye on her customers … and always within easy reach of the double crossbow that any regular knows she keeps hidden beneath the counter.

"Well," the Lapi says, trying to act comfortable, "I was curious about the supposed Babelite attack a few days ago."

Shinybeak hisses at that. "Quiet. No let Shrill hear you. He fulls of paranoids thinkings."

Lochinvar nods slowly, and takes another sip of his drink. "That was a bad business, yes."

"WHUT?" squeaks a dazed-looking gray-furred bat from across the room, his feathered cap falling over one eye. "Whath that bout *hic* Bababableites?"

Aaron's ears fold back against his head when the Eee speaks up.

A steady staccato of raindrops patters against the rooftop, with the occasional rumble of thunder that is muffled by the sturdy walls of the bar. Outside, it is as dark as it ever gets, and would be pitch black, if not for the street lamps (some of which are lit), since the rainclouds block out the light of the Procession.

A sour-looking Rhian looks up from nursing his bottle of … of … well, something unlabelled, alcoholic and green … to glare at the bat. "I skeesh you," he rumbles with a heavy tongue, then moans and goes back to his liquid friend.

"Anyhow," the winged Heyoke says to the rabbit, "Curious about anything in particular about it? Or just in general?"

The rabbit clears his throat a bit, "Well, actually… I was wondering about a friend of mine that seems to have vanished at the same time the attack took place. An Eee courier named Brishen Kara… "

Meanwhile, across the room, a foppish Fox in gawdy (if somewhat soot-stained) attire plays a merry melody upon his lute, his fiery-colored tail flopping about behind him in tune with the song. "… and I ne'er saw her agaiiiiiiin! … " It's a generic pub song that easily slips into the background.

The door to the inn flies open with a loud crash, and a rainsoaked Korv in shipman's attire jauntily steps through it, bearing a canvas duffle over one shoulder. Water pools beneath his feet as he shakes his feathers relatively dry. "Hah, by grand ol' Gretchen's rusting gears! Whatta storm!"

"Brishen," muses Shinybeak. "Eyo, she a letter-curr – curr – She fly letters." He points to his left eye. "No can see colors."

The drunken horse looks up from his bottle again, groaning at the exclamation. He looks at the Korv and rumbles, "I skeesh you." Again, he goes right back to his bottle.

Aaron nods vigorously to Vartan, causing his ears to flop about a bit comically. "Yes! That's her! I know she wasn't among the wounded that were left on the dock… "

Shinybeak nods. "She ride off in wagon with barrels."

The Korv tracks rain across the floor as he makes his way to the bar, a pair of sabers jangling on his sash. The rain seems to have done nothing to dampen his good humor. "Barkeep! A mug o' yer best spit-in-yer-eye! I gotta warm up!" he squawks, a crazy grin around the corners of his beak.

"Though, folks are unsure if she was involved in the attack or just a bystander, or flyer, in the wrong place at the wrong time," Lochinvar mentions.

The second Vartan with Lochinvar – the one who isn't Shinybeak – sips at his mug of rotgut, getting progressively less sturdy-looking. He looks at his glass mug lovingly. "~~shiII-neeee… ~~" With a thunk, his head lands on the table, beak-first, the tip making a shallow indentation in the wood.

Lochinvar says, "After all, I've heard from a few people she was seen with blood on her."

Jakka casts the Korv a most unhospitable look, then, without a word, fills up a glass mug of a sizzling brown liquid and plunks it down on the counter. "Five shekels."

"Wrong place at the wrong time sounds more like Brishen," Aaron comments. "So you saw her leave on the airship? Does anyone know where it was going?"

Lochinvar takes another sip of his drink. "I wasn't there, no. This is just hearsay from some fellow workers."

Aaron looks hopefully to Shinybeak?

A cobra Naga at the table next to Lochinvar's argues heatedly with a Skreek, while a Titanian also at the table just stares dumbly at his cards. At last, they settle down, retrieve the cards from the Titanian, and start dealing. "I ssstill sssay we need four playerssss," the Naga complains.

Shinybeak looks thoughtful, then scrawks, "Never saw her on airship. Only on wagon."

Aaron says, "What happened to the wagon?"

Shinybeak squints his eyes at Aaron. "Dunno. She good kid."

"Right!" The black avian slaps a five skekel piece on the counter, and snatches up his mug. It slops over a little bit as he leans on the counter and takes a pull, looking over the barroom. "Hey, not t'be meanin' nothin', barkeep, but be this a bar or a morgue?" he rasps. "Where be the music an' laughin' an' stuff? Awk! I could tell ye about place what had ale-swillers swingin' from the chandeliers… "

"Taken aboard the 'ship, I think it was," says the Heyoke, then looks over to the table where it looks like a card game is soon to happen.

The foppish Fox bard stops playing immediately. "Hey! I resent that!"

Aaron hmms, trying not to be distracted by the noisy Korv at the next table. "I'm sure someone would have noticed if it went over the side of the island, right?"

Shinybeak reaches over and SQUEEZES the winged coyote's arm with a taloned hand. "Just hearsay and rumor. She good kid. No go telling rumors to nosey investigator."

Aaron blinks, "Oh, I'm not an investigator! I'm a friend of Bree's… I just want to know if she's okay or not."

The Korv cackles at the bard, and thumps his duffel down, on the side of which is stenciled "Kensington St. Germain", presumably the owner. "Ye call that music? I thought it were someone rollin' a lute down the stairs! Louder, y'gotta play it like someone bangin' a lute on a wall!"

"Sure," Shinybeak scrawks, his eyes narrowing. "What say we go alley back? You asks all question you want. I gives you plenty answer. Right?" He glances to Lochinvar.

Lochinvar nods to the Vartan. "True. It's just rumors, after all."

The foppish Fox makes a sour look, and fumes a bit, then barks back to the Korv, "And what, pray tell, sir, might your name be?" The Rhian, meanwhile, grumbles at the yelling that he is caught in the crossfire of.

Lochinvar eyes settle on the table with the cards again, and he pats Shinybeak back on the arm then heads over to the table. "What's the game?" he asks the Titanian there.

The Titanian squints at his cards, looks to Lochinvar and says, "Cards."

Aaron swallows… "Err… out in the alley?"

"Captain Kensington, the Cutlass! Why, only th' most feared swordsbird e'er to man an airship!" boasts the avian, clacking his blunt talons on the floor for emphasis. He takes another sloppy beakful of his drink, and wipes his bill off on a length of his sash. "An' who might ye be? Does yer Temple know yer torturing that poor defenseless instra-ment?"

The cobra Naga hisses to Lochinvar, "Cardsss, bah! Ssstaves and Ssswords."

The winged-Heyoke nods, and looks to the free seat. "Are you expecting a fourth?" he asks.

Aaron whispers to Shinybeak, "Maybe you could come by shop instead later? It's dry there."

The Naga gestures to the seat. "Go right ahead, ssssir. I am Hood. Thissss is Chisssseltooth." He points to the Skreek, who nods curtly. "And thissss issss Gronto." He points to the Titanian. "He issss very ssssmart for hissss kind." The Titanian makes a tongue-lolling smile.

Shinybeak glowers at Aaron. "She a good kid."

Lochinvar takes the seat, and introduces himself. "Lochinvar."

Aaron nods, "I know that! I really just want to know what happened to her. There's no telling what sort of trouble she could be in by now… "

The foppish Fox barks, "Oh, reeeeealllly? I think I've heard of you. Let's see… " He strums his lute. *SPRANG!*

The foppish Fox sings, "Captain Kensington, mighty crook
Took what he saw, saw what he took,
Scourge of sky, every cranny and nook,
But if you ask me, he's only a rook!"

Lochinvar is dealt his hand of cards. "One shekel ante," the cobra hisses, and ceramic coins are pushed forward into the meager pot.

The Lapi pulls his ears down as the fox begins to… sing?

Just then, the door to the bar opens again, this time admitting a couple of bundled-up Savanites, who make their way to the bar, rain dripping off of their oilskins.

The Fox, for whatever reason, makes his ditty fairly short and then stands up to bow at his 'audience'. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you one and all! You're a LOVELY audience!"

"Oho! 'E's gotta sharp tongue, 'e has!" laughs Kensington, finishing his drink. He slams his mug back down on the counter, and makes his way over toward the fox. "But I had a chanty'r two to bawl on th' Korvette!"

Putting a hand over his cards, Lochinvar tosses a shekel into the pot, then turns in his chair to look at the barkeep. "Hey, Jakka. Didn't you say you were going to ban him if he sang again?" he calls out, grinning.

Aaron steps around the table to keep it between himself and the Savanites…

Jakka just grumps at Lochinvar, then turns her attentions to the incoming Savanites. "Some mistake. I don't have an order for you to pick up," she scrawks to the two Savanites.

Lochinvar shakes his head and chuckles to himself, turning his attention back to his cards.

"I'll raise you one shekel," the Skreek squeaks at one point in the card game. The Titanian lets out a whine as he looks at his hand, and pays a penalty into the pot. "Fold," he mumbles, laying down his cards.

Kensington clears his through, and begins to sing (squawk?) loudly, and off key. "o/~ What did we do wit' da ground-bound fox? Lock him, stock him, in-da-brig! Dashed 'is brains out on da rocks, 'cause 'e flies worse danna Bromthen pig! o/~" He goes into a racuous chorus of, "Shipmates, shipmates, watch 'im fly! Grounders, grounders, from th' sky! Hah, hah, hah!"

The coyote is silent for a moment, then tosses in two shekels to the pot. "Your one, and there's another."

For all the rough lyrics, the Korv still laughs, and throws a wing over the foxes shoulder, shaking him amiably. "Ya see? That be 'ow ye sing inna dockside bar!"

Aaron winces at a voice even worse than the fox's, and tries to keep an eye on the suspicious (they're all suspicious looking to him) looking Savanites.

The Fox glowers. "No one mocks a formerly-all-powerful Fox!" he declares, thrusting a white-gloved index finger (Well, the glove USED to be white… ) into the air for emphasis. "I used to have super powers before I became an Exile, you know!"

Aaron mutters, "That would explain how he's managed to survive so long at least… "

Lochinvar looks up from his game, and comments to the fox, "You mean you could hold a note?"

One of the Savanites, meanwhile, slaps a note on the counter in front of Jakka, and weighs it down with a shekel.

The Fox looks to Lochinvar and fumes again. "Insults! Petty insults! Aha! You'll regret that! I'll … I'll … " He pauses. "I'll write a nasty song about you!"

"Ho, ho! Wiggle yer fingers an' make me Kaiser o' Chronotopia, an' I'll believe ye, ground-pounder," caws the corsair. "Still, ye can sing a good piece! C'mon, let's 'ave another number whilst I get another drink to soothe me throat."

Remembering what happened last time he saw that fox in the company of Savanites, Aaron edges closer to Shinybeak, and whispers to the Vartan, "Be careful, there might be trouble."

Shinybeak glares at Aaron, and just gives the Savanites a cursory glance … but something makes him look back again. Perhaps it's Jakka's expression as she reads the note.

The threat of the bad song doesn't appear to faze Lochinvar – he merely turns his attention back to his game.

Kensington cackles to himself as he trots back to the bar for another mug of… whatever that stuff was. He seems especially amused at the give-and-take between the Hekoye and the bard.

Jakka scrawks, "Drinks not for delivery – only dinners. And your master don't drink." She gives the Savanites a severe look as she returns the coin.

One of the Savanites slides the coin back, and waggles his fingers at Jakka.

The Vartan bartender just shakes her head. "No wiggly-fingering. Get out."

Lochinvar looks to the Naga. "Any bid for you?" he asks casually.

"G'wan, ye bespotted deck-scrubbers!" rasps Kensington, flapping a wing at the Savanites. "Ye heard the keeper, haul yer fuzzy lil' tails back out th' door, so's she kin pour another mug o' rot fer me an' the bard."

The Naga flits his tongue, and hisses, "I'm happy with it assss it isssss." Apparently he's not raising or calling this time around…

Aaron keeps a wary eye (the black-circled one) on the Savanites, hoping they'll leave so he can ask the bartender what they wanted…

The second Savanite cowers, and looks about ready to leave, but the first gives Kensington a most unseemly glare. In some places, that's enough to lose one's head for… and by how Jakka is setting down her mug and leisurely reaching for a spot just under the counter, that might well be the case here…

Kensington squints at the Savanite who stands his ground. Most peculiar… he should be scattering by now. "Are ye deaf, or are ye just thick in th' head? Getcherself scarce, 'fore I decides ta fling ye an' yer ilk out the door meself!"

Meanwhile, the drunken Eeee, Shrill, has stumbled his way up to the counter. He's short enough that only his ears poke up over the edge … and he has to reach up to put his mug up on the polished (if greatly gouged) wooden surface. "Nutherrrr," he slurs, pounding the counter a couple of times for emphasis.

The first Savanite signs something back to Kensington that is all-too-easily translatable even to those without Silent Sign. Them's fightin' fingers!

Lochinvar waits for the Skreek to call, but only now starts to notice what is going on by the bar out of the corner of the eye.

Aaron begins looking for something sturdy to hide behind, and decides the passed out Vartan will do in a pinch…

Aaron mutters, "It's the fox… maybe something about the way he smells just makes Savanites angry… "

The avian's eyefeathers shoot upward. "Why, ye upstart, bilge-swillin', fuzz-face! If I 'ad a yardarm right now, ye'd be dangling frommit! Take that back right now, 'afore I knock yer spots off with th' tip o' me blade!"

The Skreek chitters to himself, evidently nervous. His eyes dart back and forth. It's evident to anyone that he's making a very tough decision. The Titanian doesn't help by grumping, "Come on already!"

Glancing back at the Skreek, the Heyoke comments, "It is your call," then switches attention back to the Savanites and the Korv, just watching still.

The first Savanite starts to do some hand-waving, but it's obvious he hasn't much in the way of an understanding audience.

"Just a MINUTE! I'm THINKING!" the Skreek squeaks, showing his agitation. His gaze flits to the bar. "And I can't think with that noise!"

The foppish Fox, meanwhile, seems to have meandered up to the bar as well. He taps Kensington on the shoulder. "What's he SAYING?" the Fox asks.

The Lapi shifts back and forth on his large feet, trying to decide whether to stay out of the way and keep safe, or approach the bar and actually try to learn what's going on…

"Either put money in the pot, or fold," Lochinvar urges, trying to rush his opponent into making a decision. As for the argument, of which he is able to understand both sides, he weighs the outcome over the game over it. Trouble is, his hand is too good right now.

"Bah, I danno what it is, 'xactly, but I gotta fair idea!" Kensington bobs his head a few times, and holds his wings out to either side instinctually, to look bigger. "Right, that's it! I don't know what ye be callin' me witcher paw-wagglin', but th' Cutlass knows when 'e's been insulted! Have 'atcha!"

Shrill, who was in the process of staggering around to a position where he could more effectively (or perhaps so he hoped) command Jakka's attention, happens to be in JUST the wrong place at the wrong time – when Kensington makes his gesture. With an alarmed SQUEAK, he is knocked off balance by the outspread wings, and flaps his own wings drunkenly, as he goes reeling. The glass mug falls, shattering against the floor, causing Jakka to scrawk in angry alarm.

The Skreek lets out a nervous sigh, then says, "All right! I – " And just at that instant, a drunken bat crashes into the table, sending ceramic shekels and cards flying. "AAAAAAAAA!" shriek the Eeee, the Skreek and the Naga. The Titanian just blinks, confused.

Maybe it's the drink, maybe it was the bat, but either way, Kensington's not at the top of his game tonight, when it comes to hand-to-wing. He pecks at the Savanite with his beak, gets bumped by the bat, and overcorrects in trying to regain his balance, stumbling backward.

Aaron thumps his left foot as the glass shatters and Jakka scrawks, having made his decision to stay out of the way for now. He crouches down behind the sleeping Vartan.

The Savanite grabs Jakka's empty (but well-polished) mug, and flings it at Kensington. He's not doing well, either, because it misses him, and manages to bang the foppish Fox soundly on the head. "OW!" The Fox's hat is knocked down, covering his eyes, and he stumbles backwards, arms flailing, much like the bat did just a moment ago. He, however, collides with the table of the drunken Rhian. The Rhian, seeing his bottle go flying, rumbles, "I skeesh you." The way he grabs the Fox, it looks like this time he means it.

The sleeping Vartan says, "SnXXXXZZZZzzzzzzzz."

Sighing, the winged Heyoke picks up pieces of table off him, and pushes the drunken Eeee aside and steps into the fray to find who threw a bat at him.

Aaron peeks over the Vartan's shoulder, and mutters, "When did they start growing Rhians THAT big??"

While the winged Hekoye looks for whomever threw the bat at him, the Rhian picks up the foppish Fox … and hurls him. It looks like this time Lochinvar has a Fox to dodge as well!

Quoth the Fox: "AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

As the glass whistles past the corsair's head, his face twists into an expression of extreme peevedness. "Rawk! I've killed men fer less, so's countcherself lucky when I only take a tail as a souvenier, ye son o' a spotted skedat!" Steel sings on steel as Kensington's sabers erupt from their sheathes.

Lochinvar sees the fox coming, but doesn't quite get out of the way in time, and the fox clips part of his right wing. Unimpressed with this, Lochinvar picks the fox up and throws him back where he came from.

Quoth the Fox: "EEEEEEEEEEEEEIAAAAAA!"

The Fox smacks against the Rhian's thick chest. Good shot! The limp Fox moans painfully as he flops to the floor. His lute makes a discordant *SPRANG*.

Aaron looks longingly towards the door, but doesn't want to leave the shelter of the Vartan's obliviousness.

Kensington stomps toward the Savanite grimly, a pair of shining, razor-edged feathers now ridging his wings. There's a blur of motion, and a long series of whapping noises as the flats of the corsair's blades connect repeatedly with the sides of his antagonist's noggin. After a good deal of dazing, a strong kick knocks the Savanite over.

The Rhian looks up from the Fox – the big horse still standing, that is – and with a feat of perception (considering his drunken state), manages to single out the perpetrator. He points at the offender, and rumbles, "I SKEESH YOU!" However … perhaps it's not so impressive after all. When Shinybeak looks at the Rhian and hisses in response, the Rhian doesn't correct the case of mistaken identity.

The first Savanite falls back, barely missing the second – who leaps out of the way, and makes a bolt for the door, tail poofed out like a bottle-brush.

The Heyoke, now having dispatched the fox, resumes his quest to find out who threw the Eeee at him, and gets embroiled in the melee again.

The angry Korv glares about, apparently having been oblivious to the rest of the chaos. "By th' Great Machine's clankin' crankshaft, Now what be goin' on?"

Aaron peeks again to see if things are still flying around… and whether or not Jakka is taking aim at anything that might be near him.

The Titanian, Gronto, walks past the brawling Rhian and Vartan (who are now exchanging punches and throwing handy projectiles every which way), and finds the limp Fox. "Rrrr?" he says as he picks the Fox up. He shakes the vulpine a bit, doesn't get a response, and flings the bard over his shoulder, shrugging.

The Lapi's eyes go wide at the sight of the now standing Titanian, and he quickly hides again.

And a good decision it was for the Lapi to hide again, as the Fox goes sailing past. With a crash of tinkling glass, a tumult of crashing pottery outside and a shriek of alarm from a startled Drokar, it would seem the Fox is out of this fight for the time being.

A table – minus its legs – goes whirring past Lochinvar's head like a child's throwing disc. It smashes into a paneled wood wall, imbedding itself halfway-through. There crashing noises and alarmed squeaks … and then several blue-furred yiffles bounce through the rift in the wall, scampering across the tables!

"Aww… that be no way t'treat a musician." Kensington knocks an airborne stein away from himself with his left saber, steps over the unconscious Savanite, and goes outside to look after the fox.

Lochinvar turns around to see it smash against the wall, and taking that as being aimed as him, he grabs a broken leg of a chair and tries to barge through the crowd to it's source.

Aaron squeeks in alarm and tries to climb up onto the snoring Vartan as a blue-furred critter runs across his foot.

The source would seem to be the enraged Rhian, who has a wooden pail stuck on his muzzle. He grabs and flings every projectile – animate or not – within reach. "HSSSSSSSSSS!" hisses Hood as he waves through the air, on his way across the room. He impacts the wall next to one of the three stuffed heads, causing it to lose its mounting and fall downward. The glass-eyed Kavi head falls, landing right on top of a yiffle, squashing the latter. The Kavi's dead visage looks up at Aaron, mouth agape.

"YAAAAAAHHH!!!" goes the Lapi, who then tries to jump to the nearest intact table.

Out on the street, there's no sign of the Fox, nor of the Savanite, nor of whatever Drokar the Fox managed to startle, though there's a toppled wagon with plenty of broken pottery scattered about the street.

The armed Korv stalks back into bar, glowering. "Bah! A night don't be ruined until the music's off! Ye skeeshed the entertainment, Rhian, so's I'm orderin' a bar-floor nap fer ye!"

The nearest intact table flips up, off-balance by the Lapi's landing upon it. The Skreek who was trying to hide UNDER the table lets out a shrill squeak of alarm as the legs buckle. A Jupani seated at the opposite side looks fairly annoyed … until the edge of the table swings up on his side and catches him square under the jaw. *CLACK* His eyes roll, and he falls backward, landing on the floor.

Lochinvar continues to head towards the Rhian, tapping the wooden leg against his palm, trying to remember the best way to take down a Rhian.

Aaron curls up into a ball as he rolls off of the upset table.

The Rhian swings around to face Lochinvar, the pail still on his muzzle, and adorned in stained work-clothes – a coarse-cloth jerkin, heavily-patched trousers, and a rope for a belt. He rumbles, "MIF SKFF UF!"

A yiffle bounces up, clinging to Lochinvar's leg, shrieking loudly and annoyingly.

Lochinvar shrugs, and just takes a hefty whack at the bottom of the pail with the chair leg, and then loses his balance because of the yiffle.

*RAWK!* A whirlwind of steel and black feathers blows past the Rhian. Said Rhian is obscured for a split second by a flurry of flashing blades, and Kensington is suddenly on the other side of the room, turning around. The equine's work shirt is split open, the sleeves are now gone, and written in shallow crimson across his chest is "K. St. G. wuz heer". Precisely two seconds later, the horse's rope-belt splits, and his pants fall around his ankles.

The Rhian looks down dumbly at his fallen pants, caught in mid-stride. He stumbles clumsily…

Lochinvar, currently on the floor, moves quickly and grabs the Rhian's legs, trying to pull him over in the confusion.

Kensington clacks his beak, hollering, "Clock 'im a good one, hekoye-thing!" The bird cackles, and hops over the counter, waggling his eyefeathers at Jakka. "Now, howzabout that drink?"

With a half-Vartan, fallen pants, a state of drunkenness and general chaos to contend with, the Rhian flails about in vain… then comes crashing down like a felled tree, smashing into one of the few standing tables, leveraging several half-filled mugs of grog and rotgut into the air, to shatter against the fireplace. When the debris clears, the rasping snore of the Rhian can be heard.

Aaron begins to untangle himself from… well… himself.

Jakka, still holding her crossbow ready, clacks her beak annoyedly at Kensington. "Five shekels," she scrawks.

Picking himself up off the floor, Lochinvar looks at the collapsed Rhian, and tosses down the broken chair leg he was still holding.

The Korv slaps another fiver on the counter, and helps himself to a mug, raising it in sloppy salute at Lochinvar. "Hah, hah! As good a brawl as I e'er witnessed!" he rasps, grinning beakily.

Jakka gives the Korv an annoyed look as she puts away the fiver, then looks to a blank space on the wall, as if scrutinizing…

Nodding a little, Lochinvar replies as he heads back to the bar, "I've been in better. You probably don't get down to this part of town much?"

The Lapi checks to see if the Savanite is still unconscious before approaching the bar…

Kensington shakes the tiny beads of crimson off the very tips of his swords before sheathing them again, gives the barkeep a short bow, and vaults back over the bar. "Much as I'd like ta, me travels didn't take me t'Rephidim much, no," caws the corsair, dipping his beak in his mug for a moment. He comes up for air, smiling. "Th' bars 'ave a charm aboot 'em, though."

The Savanite dealt with by the Korv doesn't look like he'll be moving anywhere of his own volition anytime soon.

Aaron carefully approaches the bar, and quietly waits for the Vartan barkeep's attention.

Lochinvar grins at the Korv. "That they do," he says, and tosses down shekels on the counter "Jakka? Another drink."

Jakka pushes an unconscious Naga off of the counter, cleans up a spill, and then scrawks to Aaron, "Whatchu want?"

She clacks a mug onto the counter next to Lochinvar, full of grog.

Shinybeak skulks about, surreptitiously picking up a few pieces of broken glass from the floor and weaving them into his tail. He chants quietly to himself, "Shinyshinyshiny… "

Aaron brushes his black ear back, and says, "Umm… I was wondering if I could see the note the Savanites gave you?"

The Korv gives Aaron a sharp look. "Yer not with'em, are ye?"

Jakka gives Aaron a sharp look as well. "Can't drink that. Whatchu want?"

Aaron says, "Oh… umm, I'll have an ale then. Please."

The bartender Vartan, no longer hauling the crossbow about, pours a mug of ale for the Lapi and pushes it across the counter. "Four shekels," she scrawks.

Lochinvar takes a quaff from his mug. "Him? No, he was here before those Savanites," he says to Kensington.

A gauntleted hand pushes open the door, and a gritty Khattha enters. Her foot pauses halfways across the threshold as she sees the damage to the room. Yiffles scamper across the floor, leaving messes, and no tables remain standing. Her hands are on her weapons in an eyeblink, no – a wink, one of her eyes is covered by a dusty cloth, before she realizes the peace of the unconscious has settled on the room. "Yeesh, I always niss the gooe ones," she remarks, glancing at the table embedded in the wall, and then picks her way across the floor.

Kensington nods at Lochinvar, and decides the Lapi must not have owned the Savanites. He shrugs his wings. "Barmistress, here be a few coppers fer some o' th' damages, and another one for a few rounds for the lads and meself here, just so there's no hard feelin's, eh?" He looks at his quickly emptying money-pouch wistfully, and takes a long pull of his drink before regarding Lochinvar. "Yer obviously a dock-paw around here… heard anything 'bout work fer an experienced airman?"

Jakka's disposition undergoes a miraculous transformation. For a moment, it looks as if she's smiling, but further examination reveals she has simply stopped scowling. She puts away the coppers and starts filling shiny mugs.

The winged-Heyoke shakes his head. "Not recently. Though if something were to come up, I may take it myself. Been a while since I've been off-Rephidim."

Aaron nurses his ale after paying Jakka, and waits for a better opportunity to question her…

Whether Kensington has noticed Lochinvar's reply or not is hard to tell. His beak has immediately jerked hard to the right at the newcomer. "Well, well, well… " he caws, smoothing his crest back with one wing. "A lady witta blade be the sharpest-lookin' kind."

Aaron watches the newcomer with a bit more than curiousity.

Lochinvar, also, leans forward so he can see past the Korv at the lady in question.

"Look k'n kill, kaw-kaw," the Khattha replies, as she takes in the number of bodies. "I guess you rresponsible forr all these ah?"

Not to be left out, the Titanian, still standing (barely), ogles the incoming Khatta. His tail beats against the face of a drunken Eeee slung over the table. "Ow ow ow ow ow," squeaks the Eeee.

A raspy chuckle is the reply. "Well, t'be truthful, m'lady fair, I only done 'bout a third o' th' mess 'ere," caws the grinning avian. "The lads t'me left took care o' the furniture. There be four coppers for the barkeeper for damages, and a lil' besides fer drinks… kan I in'trist ye in one?"

Aaron turns back to the bar, and asks Jakka, "I'd like to buy the lady a drink. Your best ale!"

"Five shekels," grunts Jakka.

With a plunk and a slosh, a heady mug of ale is set down before the Lapi.

The cougaress Khattha moves with a slink that keeps her blind side turned towards the door. An ear flicks at the squeaking Eeee, but her eye stays steadily trained on everyone who remains standing. At the offer of the drink, she seems a little more relaxed, "ya, thats soune gooe."

"Ahhh… that'll be on me tab, Jakka," coughs Kensington with a wink for the barkeep, and a withering look for the Lapi. He turns his attention back to the cougaress. "Ye look like ye could make a fine mess o' blotto blokes yerself, m'lady. Captain Kensington St. Germain, at yer service. Who 'ave I th' honour o' meetin'?"

Jakka snorts, and scrawks to the Lapi, "On him." She goes back to polishing one of the intact mugs. Some glassblower is bound to be busy soon…

Aaron pays for the drink, and carries it over to the Kattha, "For you, Milady."

Lochinvar feels that he's been pit to the post once again, so just silently drinks his drink for now.

"Sasta," the Khattha drawls as she carefully steps around the wooden fragments on her way over to the Korv, "ex of the Long Claw." She turns and takes the drink from the Lapi. "Thanks."

Aaron puts on his most charming smile for Sasta. "A lovely name for a lovely lady."

Kensington dips his beak for a moment, grinning. "A pleasure t'meet ye, Sasta of the Long Claw. What brings ye ta Rephidim? Then again, who doesn't come ta Rephidim sooner'a later, eh?" The Korv turns his head slightly, his glare at the Lapi slightly harder than before. "Aintcha had 'nuff t'drink, laddybuck? Clear off."

"Let'sne guess… " the cougaress says, putting a hand on Aaron's shoulder, and giving it a squeeze which is almost painful, or playful, "… you a loverr, no a fighterr ah? Is you spene the whole tine behine the barr?"

Aaron blinks and turns to the Korv, his black ear flopping down in front of face. "Pardon me?"

Sasta also turns to face the Korv, "I lookings forr worrk, ane forr a rrat."

"Heh, heh… I be a fighter anna lover… swiftest blade in the skies," brags the Korv. He quickly amends, "After yers, I'm sure. We should… spar sometime." He regards Aaron with irritation. "I said shove off, ground-pounder. Them big ears o' yers can't miss that, can they?"

The Titanian walks up, tapping Sasta on the shoulder. "I be Gronto! I big and strong!" He flexes. There's enough ragged fur that it mutes the effect, though. So does the body odor.

Aaron brushes back his ear, "Really now sir, there's no call to be rude. I was just about to ask the lady what sort of work she was looking for."

A deep rumble is heard from the cougaress, which momentarily could be mistaken for a growl, but turns out to be a short lived purr; the Titanian might be the cause. "Yaa, thats woule be nice," Sasta answers Kensington, then asks of the wolf, "who you is?"

Lochinvar finishes the contents of his mug, and looks over to Shinybeak. "You think that we should take him home?" he asks, nodding to the snoring Vartan. It's not like I'm going to get very far with this crow and rabbit around, after all, he muses to himself.

Aaron turns back to Sasta, and executes a quick bow, "Aaron Lightfoot, of Lightfoot's Apothecary, at your service Milady Sasta."

"Gronto," the Titanian repeats himself, then starts counting off on his fingers. "Grr-Oh-En-Oh-Tee. Gronto."

Gronto thumps his chest. "I can spell!" He smiles proudly.

Shinybeak shakes his head at the flexing going on, and helps Lochinvar drag out their unconscious comrade. "*scrawk* Got some new shinies, least… "

"Whate'er it be, it's more'n likely to cross me path 'stead o' yers… shopkeeper," rasps the corsair, clearly annoyed now. "Sasta's a scrapper, like me, and it just so happens I be lookin' fer work too. Now, be a good lad, and scoot back t'yer stall in the bazaar, 'fore I black yer other eye."

"Yaa, is gooe." Sasta takes a sip of her drink, "naybe you k'n set up table ah?" She points at one of the less damaged ones.

"You ought to watch glass shinies," the Heyoke says as they go out the door. "Sometimes you can get nasty cuts from them."

The Titanian smiles and walks over to one of the tables that has two legs intact. He looks about for something to prop it up on, and, showing his resourcefulness, scoots over a chair and an unconscious Rhian to do the trick, laying the table edge on top of them. "There!" he says, smiling.

Aaron quickly dashes over and holds out a chair for Sasta… which also keeps him away from the Korv.

The Rhian snores.

The cougaress grins, and takes the seat, waving for the Korv to follow. "Tell ne abouts you worrk."

Aaron scoots the chair in as Sasta sits.

Kensington saunters after the Khatta, kicking a largely intact stool back upright, and perching on it. "I captained the Kensington Korvette back in Chronotopia, mostly privat-… err, collectin' bounty on ships what weren't where they shoulda been." He waves one wing nonchalantly. "There were a fracas involvin' the Kaiser in Blitzheim, so's after that were cleaned up, here I came t'seek me fortune. 'Ow about yerself? Looks like gold can't be better spent than on yer blade."

Sasta leans back, then sits forward long enough to pull two short staves from the sling across her back. She rests one arm across them, holding them put, while keeping her other hand free to steady her drink.

Aaron stands ready just behind the Kattha, ready to take her mug for a refill as soon as she's finished it.

"Naybe you wants help Varrtan toss the sleeperrs outsiee, see if they gots any shinies in they pockets." Sasta suggests to the Titanian, wrinkling her nose a little. She looks back at the Korv, "hnn… Chrronotopia, is hearr interresting things abouts therre. No go."

The Titanian rrrrrs at this, deep in thought. His tail swishes. He bounds across the room, and immediately and enthusiastically volunteers himself for cleanup duty. Given the state of the place … that should keep him busy for a while.

"I was worrkings forr the Enirrate of the Abu'habian, afterr I leave the Long Claw." The cougaress takes another mouthful of mead, "things is getting a little to tights with the Nagai Enpirre, so I leave. I wants get airrship agains."

Ignoring the Lapi now (he seems to make a good bus-boy,) Kensington tilts his head to one side. "Arr, tsk… I be mistaken sayin' 'blade', don't I?" rasps the Korv, grinning. He indicates the staves with one wing claw. "Looks like yer in the headache business! Whate'er gets the job done. Aye, Chronotopia be in'trestin', but ye can't sneeze widout breakin' some rule. Rephidim's where e'ery airship comes, so's this be the best place fer a deck-hand. Care t'accompany me on th' work-huntin' circuit? Two hired hands fetch more'n one, aye?"

"These gooe enough forr now, hae to pay ny way up herre sonehow." Sasta pats at a worn spot on her belt, "I will gets new sworres soon. Is soune gooe, to takes look arroune forr worrk with you. See what k'n get ah?"

The cougaress turns to the Lapi standing nearby, "you gots spot in bazaar like Kensington say ah?"

Kensington flashes Aaron a triumphant grin when the cougaress looks away, but holds his tongue.

Jakka watches the Titanian do the work for her, and contents herself with polishing one of the unbroken glasses.

Aaron nods, "Yes, my shop is near the Bazaar. I think you mentioned you were looking for somebody earlier?"

"Yaaa," the Khattha nods. "I lookings forr a skrreek healerr. She gots rree hairr ane bae attituee. Prrobably nake herr own business too. You know?"

Aaron smiles, "A Skreek Healer you say? I know of only one in the Bazaar, by the name of Chiria. Being in the herb business, it's important for me to keep tabs on all the local healers." The Lapi turns his smile on Kensington as well. Hah!

The Korv looks somewhat rankled at this parry, but doesn't say anything quite yet.

Sasta smiles, her lips curling back and showing the long teeth that trip her tongue. "Thats herr, we gots business."

Aaron shies back slightly at the Kattha's smile, but doesn't let his smile waver. "Well, I'm sure a meeting could be arranged! And if you need to meet someplace private, well, my shop is at your disposal as well."

The feathers on the back of Kensington's neck puff up slightly at the sight of those teeth, but the bird seems to like it. He speaks up finally. "Well, 'owzabout we look o'er this bazaar an' find her? No need fer directions, bunny-boy, I kin prob'ly spot it from th' air."

Gronto continues picking up bodies, and furniture, and accidentally smashing other bits as he 'cleans up'.

"Nights be betterr if he show us ah? Aarron looks like he k'n rruns verry fast." The cougaress rubs her hand through the Lapi's hair, flopping his one ear upright.

Aaron's foot thumps momentarily before he forces it to stay still. "Of course, Milady Sasta! I can take to you straight there! She keeps her tent near Darkside, not too far from here."

"But… that is … *rawk* Aye, I think 'e demonstrated 'ow fast 'e kin run not more'n ten minutes ago," grunts the corsair disgustedly, seething inwardly. "I'll be sure t'give the lil' lop-eared page a shekel'r two fer 'is services." He finishes his drink, and eyes the bottom of his mug.

Sasta leans forward, draining her mug and folding her arms on the table. Focusing on Kensington with her one green eye she says, "I still currious abouts how you eo in the fight, lots gooe? Gets hurrt anyplace?"

Aaron can't help but comment, "He fights better than he sings, Milady… "

Kensington clacks his beak, and puffs out his chest a little bit, a tuft of black feathers poking over the top of his shirt. "Huh, it'll take more'n a room fulla rabble to even nick Kenny the Cutlass. I'll be happy t'demonstrate some time fer yer pleasure, Sasta o' the Long Claw." His pose is marred only by a venemous look at the Lapi thorn in his side. "Please ask me t'demonstrate."

Aaron glances away from the Korv's murderous look, and decides not to comment on the mispellings etched into the Rhian's hide…

"Long Claw long gone Kenny, eown in flanes. I just Sasta now." She looks at the bottom of her glass, empty; She idly rocks it back and forth with her hand, "Oh, I no thinks he woule be a prroperr challenge forr you, and the rrest of the rroon enpty ah?"

Aaron spots the empty mug and quickly offers, "Care for a refill, Milady?"

"Yaaa," Sasta hands it to Aaron.

"Whats separrate you frron you ship?" She asks Kensington.

Aaron lopes over to the bar to have the mug refilled, shekels in hand.

The corsair's look of disappointment is quickly masked by a mutter of, "An' make it snappy, Lapi." Kensington smoothes his feathers back out with the tip of his beak for a moment, before replying. "Well, Sasta… th' pirate lords operating near Chronotopia weren't too fond o' me cuttin' into their profits. They sent a bloke name a Githral after me, an' he tricked me. When 'e offered a duel o'er our ships, I thought 'e meant swords. Turned out he chose k'tinza, an' I was honor-bound ta lose." The avian snorts angrily, and clenches his wing claws. "If I e'er find 'im agin, I'll dice 'im inta pieces so small, the Creen won't be able t' peck 'im up."

Jakka stares at the Lapi, and the mug. Deciding that it isn't worth polishing it clean if she's only going to fill it again, the Vartan skips straight to pouring more mead. After she counts the shekels of course. Her task done, she goes back to rubbing her shiny glass.

"Blue'n'White me right foot," grumbles the Korv.

"Blue nice colourr, but no worrth haneik'pping youself overr. I leave thats to foolish Gallees." Sasta nods in agreement, tapping her fingers on the table and watching Aaron at the bar.

Aaron returns the filled mug to Sasta.

"You is fast," she pets the Lapi, then grins back at the Korv once more.

Aaron practically purrs.

Kensington's own smirk deepens slightly, whether at Aaron, or the mention of gallees, it's hard to say. "Aye, the Kensington Korvette did many a gallee ship in. I be findin' that blue an' white both burn black." He sighs, and stretches his back. "But now, she's gone, and I might e'en 'ave a bounty on me by now. One day, I'll captain a ship again, and Githral better duck 'is 'ead." A smile plays around the corners of Kensington's beak. "Maybe fairly soon, if the job-hunt goes well!"

Sasta takes a sip from her newly filled mug, "Gots any shekels savee up? How close you is to gettings new ship?" Her attention is all on the crow.

Aaron grins at the former captain's slip. {A bounty, eh? That could come in handy sometime.}

The Korv lowers his head slightly. "Me reward in Chronotopia weren't nearly enough fer another clipper, an' finance… it, ah… don't be me strong point." Determination marks the bird's features as he looks up again. "But I know the ins and outs of the airways like th' back o' me claw. I 'ad a ship once, and I'll 'ave one again, mark me words. Steering one fer summun else just be th' start."

Kensington looks lost in thought for a moment, then notices Aaron, and glowers at him. "And just what're ye grinnin' like a vermite inna hardtack barrel fer?"

"I hearr you," Sasta says, strangely quiet and taking a long pull on her drink that drains it to the bottom. "I hates being along forr the rriee." She slams the mug down.

Aaron blinks, and brushes back his black ear, "Oh, just happy with… err… life."

The Lapi quickly plucks up the mug again and goes to have it refilled.

"Aye, aye! A kindred spirit, ye be!" enthuses the corsair cheerfully. He beats his wings, slapping at the rabbit's back 'unintentionally' with the tips of one wing. "Why, t'gether, we could 'ave a command in two shakes o' a Vykarin's club, eh? What say we meet t'morra on th' docks? That be where rumors start, and leads follow, eh?"

"No Aarron, two is enough." Sasta says as the rabbit grabs her mug. She looks critically at Kensington, "Yaa, tonorrow soune gooe. I be therre."

Aaron nods, and returns the mug to Jakka for polishing.

"Right!" The grinning crow hops off his barstool, and stretches. "Think up a test o' swordsbird prowress fer the Cutlass while yer page takes ye t'this Chiria healer, me lady, just so's ye know only th' best is sidin' with ye."

The cougaress stands, her motions still steady, though perhaps not for long. "Okaay, I think up sonethings forr you." She moves towards the door, and looks back at the Lapi, "Well, cone on, I no gots all night."

"Yes Milady!" Aaron hurries over hold the door open for Sasta. "Right this way!"

"Let'ssee if you k'n rrun fasterr than Sasta," she says, as she saunters outside.

Kensington caws, "Oh… an' Aaron… be careful how ye treat the lady." rasps the corvid idly. He gives the rabbit a meaningful look, and draws the ridge of his wing across his throat. Ghhhck!

Aaron swallows, and then hurries after the Kattha…

With a self-satisfied snort, the corsair watches the pair depart, gives the barkeeper a brief nod, and recovers his duffel to make his way back out into the rain.

Moments later an eager Titanian returns to the Inn with a handful of pilfered shekels, then can be heard howling in disappointment up to three blocks away.