"The Empty Mug" A small, rustic bar on the Paquebot Aravis. There for the thirsty traveller, it is one of only two businesses on the paquebot, in addition to the stockhouse, the docks, and the refuelling platform. The Glutton is being resupplied, and many of the crew have taken to the bar for a quick drink. Now, there are five, waiting for the last hour before the ship is ready.
K'ale and Plaith sit at the bar, talking in hushed whispers. K'ale's arm is gloved, but Plaith sticks out like a sore thumb. It is fortunate that there are only three other patrons; local dockworkers. They seem to accept Plaith, no doubt used to strange sights.
Mira, Lochinvar, and Kensington sit at a table, the two gents to either side of the captain.
With his feet propped up on the table, the Korvid corsair reclines in his chair, tilting it back on two legs. He nurses a mug of rum in his left wing claw, and his tailfeathers are carefully swept to the side so the chair back doesn't rumple them.
Lochinvar sits in a little more refined manner, occasionally looking over to where the Nohbakim are sitting at the bar, a little curious as to what they're talking about. He looks away from them to Mira. "Could I get you another drink, Captain?"
K'ale suddenly laughs loudly, and claps Plaith on the back, "Yes, you're probably right." He smiles over at Mira, "Do you mind if we join you?"
The cap'n waves a brown-furred paw. "O' course not!"
K'ale moves to the table and sits across from the captain. Plaith sits next to Kensington, with a mug of beer. He whispers raspily, "We were just discussing how the Glutton would handle the desert."
Mira looks slightly insulted. "Handle? She's nothin' less than the best ye'll ever find."
K'ale smiles, "Well, have you ever flown the Sea of Sand?"
"She's a sturdy lil' ship," crows Kensington. He pours a little rum into the lower half of his beak, then tilts his head back. Gulp! "Ahhh! Anyways, I think th' Glutton'll be alright. Th' crew's the main concern, but as long as we keep a high altitude, overheatin' shouldn't be a problem."
Mira eyes Kensington. "An' what're ye sayin' about my crew? They'll never fail ye."
K'ale chuckles, "Aye, that's what Plaith says… and I think she'll handle fine. Never been there myself, but many ships have problems over the Sea. The winds are very strong and fickle, and they're frequently very thick with blown sand. Just… be cautious!"
The Hekoye takes the captain's lack of response to his question as a 'no', and wanders over the bar to refill his own mug.
A grin plays around the edges of the Korv's beak. "Oh, no, a-course not! They be a hardy bunch, I kin tell. Still, y'don't wanna let 'em suffer sunstroke anymore than ye have ta, aye?"
Plaith turns to Kensington, rasping airily, "So, are you still interested in crossing swords?"
Clackclack! The Korv's beak snaps together twice, and his grin spreads. "Iffen yer still up fer fightin' a livin' legend, I hain't got nothin' better ta do at th' moment. Guess challengers have a hard time findin' me out this far!"
Plaith smiles and nods, "I'm prepared. Outside?"
Kensington eases his chair back down, and stands up, stretching. A few audible pops and snaps don't seem to bother him much. "Good enough fer me, lad! Any ground rules? Two swords or one?"
The brown-furred Khatta smiles. "O'course. Th' Glutton's always careful." Excusing herself, she makes her own way to the bar and to the winged coyote there. "Th' offer o' a drink's still open, aye?"
Plaith grins, "One sword, I think. No rules otherwise. First to yield, or get touched to the chest, loses."
Lochinvar smiles and nods. "For you, captain, anytime. Same again?"
The corsair discards the rest of his questions. (Live steel, or wood? Blindfolded, or not? Drunk or sober?) With a little jangling from his sabers, he falls into step with the nohbakim, his own stride jaunty and confident.
"O' course," says the captain. Briefly, she glances at the swordfighting duo, then shakes her head.
The Hekoye places the order at the bar, and then looks towards Kensington and Plaith also. "These Nohbakim seem to like trying to get us to spar with them," he comments to Mira.
K'ale laughs, "Our fighters normally spar at least four days a week, normally every day. They're restless!"
Mira muses, "Every day, eh? Must wear 'em out a mite. This here shekel says th' Korv'll win." She slaps a coin onto the bar.
K'ale chuckles, "I think I won't be taking that bet. That winged fellow looks mighty cosy with a sword. Though… " He smiles, "I should stick with my kind, right? Very well! A shekel!"
Lochinvar looks towards K'ale, taken a little unawares that he was listening in. Then he looks back to the captain again. "Tell me. When I was fighting that other Nohbakim, did you place coin on my side, or against me?"
Plaith steps through the doorway, and draws his sword, touching its tip to his foot.
The Korv's own blade makes a singing noise as it, too, sees sunlight. Kensington turns it about in his wingclaw, until it ridges his wing, like a steel feather, or perhaps a long metal finger. He taps the hilt to his forehead in a quick salute, still grinning.
Plaith smiles, and raises his blade straight-arm, to cross his blade with Kensington's. He bends his arm, dropping into a stance, "Begin… "
The corsair responds in kind, arching his back and holding his free wing off to one side. He hops rhythmically on his toes, weaving from side to side as he begins circling his opponent, his steel index feather pointing at Plaith.
Plaith takes an experimental swipe, touching his blade to the corsair's. He backs up, holding his sword at an angle, "So, I hear you've got a reputation? Or think you do?" He grins broadly at his opponent.
Mira chuckles, shaking her head as a drink is set before her. "None. No bet." She sips. "Surprising, eh?"
"Aye, indeed!" rasps the corsair, turning the tip of his blade in little circles. He probes his opponent's defenses as well, in a relaxed, almost languid manner. "During me command, I were th' most feared blade in th' skies… many a pup like yerself saw fit to cross swords wit' Cap'n St. Germain."
"Ah, alright," Lochinvar says.
Lochinvar says, "Just that I saw you and Aaron up watching I wondered if you had some kind of wager on who would win. Even if it wasn't for money."
Plaith flicks his sword at Kensington, then feints to the side, followed by quick sidestepping. "How many died, may I ask?"
The katta looks reproachfully at her ale. "Th' stuff's abominable! Even th' Bazaar on th' Big One's got better drink. No, th' rabbit was just chattin'."
The winged-Hekoye nods. "Just chatting, I see," he says, and takes a drink of his ale.
The Korv turns his side, tapping Plaith's sword with the flat of his own against the feint, and flicking his tailfeathers. "Oh, I lost count after a while… on'y the ones I really didna like ended up paintin' the Korvette's deck. Blood soaks inta wood, ya know. Really not good fer it."
Plaith chuckles, "I'd imagine not." He makes his first real attack, swords clashing three times before going back to a guard position.
"I would beat him next time though," the Hekoye assures the captain.
A bit more ale vanishes down the captain's throat. "Ye would, eh?"
Flashing metal meets chitin at each attack, and the smiling avian taps one of a collection of pins on his vest as another lull silences the duelist's weapons. "These're fleet insignia… fer ships the Korvette claimed in her day. Some o' those claims were me own, fought on th' deck o' me foe's own ship. I can't risk me own deck all th' time, aye?""
Lochinvar smiles and nods. "I would say so. His move that took me down was a little underhanded. Now that I know how he plays, I just have to be aware of that and use it to my advantage."
Mira says, "An' I'm sure ye will. Ye're a good fighter."
Putting his mug back down on the bar top, the Hekoye smiles and straightens himself up a notch. "Why thank you, Captain. And from what I have seen so far, you are an excellent airship captain."
Mira raises her glass. "I'll drink to that."
Plaith takes a strong attack, clashing swords with the corsair for several long moments, both coming close to a touch. "Aye? How many ships?"
"Well, I'm a lil' too busy t'count me pins… " grunts Kensington. With a few more parries, he bats at Plaith with his open wing…
Plaith ducks away from the wing, and raises his sword, clashing briefly. He pushes the corsair's sword away with a strong stroke, and takes a step back, clicking swords lightly, before making a high attack towards the corsair's shoulder.
Kensington's free wing whips backward as the bird himself steps forward, pressing his opponent's retreat. His sword-wing rises as he drives forward, lifting beneath the nohbakim's blade to hold it up.
Lochinvar tries to look out of the door to where Kensingtona and the Hekoye-fish are sparring. "Shall we go outside and make sure they don't injure themselves?" he asks Mira.
The cap'n slams back the rest of her drink. "Ye got a good n' dandy plan. I canna have th' customers hurtin' themselves afore they get where they're a-goin'."
Putting his own mug back on the bar, Lochinvar nods. "After you, captain," he says, gesturing politely for Mira to go first.
Which Mira does, carefully edging out the door to avoid entangling herself or her cape in the combatants' flashing swords.
Lochinvar follows the captain, being a little bit more careful having to fan his wings out a little so he can get his back flatter whilst moving along the wall.
Plaith cuts his retreat short, barely managing to regain his sword from the upswing. He goes under Kensington's guard, narrowly missing a wing, as he presses forward.
The winged-Heyoke whispers across to Mira, "I don't recall you introducing me to the Glutton's medic. Perhaps it might be prudent to remind me who he is, just in case he might be required."
Mira nods, though her attention remains riveted on the duel. A shekel, after all, is at stake.
The unexpected turn stymies Kensington's offensive, and with a beat of his wings, the avian boosts himself backwards, off the ground a few feet, and lands with his blunt talons scraping against the paquebot's surface.
As the Korv is regaining his composure from his fast move, he feels a thump against the back of his shoulder… a rather hard one, at that.
The corsaire grunts, and quickly shifts his feet beneath himself to be assured of his balance, ready for Plaith's attack to be followed up. He looks at his opponent, a little surprised that the nobahkim does nothing but look back. The Korv glances over his shoulder. "What… ?"
The Korv sees about twenty yards back, a poodle flanked by a couple of Jupani. Judging by the other airship now moored by the Glutton, it seems they just arrived. The poodle hisses, "Freaks!" as he lobs another stone in the direction of the small group, "Get out before I turn you in!"
Plaith has let his swordtip drop to the ground. He looks almost weary and sad, rather than nervous.
The feathers around Kensington's neck puff out, and the ridge of brow lowers. "Yeah?" he squawks hotly. "Ye an' what navy, ye pansified panty-waist poodle?"
Mira, too, catches sight of the strange ship. She strains to see if she can recognize any identifying markings on it.
The ship bears the words 'The Braying Mule' on the side. Somewhat fitting. Most of the crew seems still aboard, a mix of Jupani and Savanites mostly. It seems a simple cargo ship.
Lochinvar watches the onlookers quietly for the moment, ready to give assistance should they try to start something.
The poodle's jaw drops, and he stands there a moment, looking like a fish perhaps even moreso than plaith. He finally retorts with, "Repeat yourself!"
Mira studies the ship. It doesn't seem to pose a threat… still, she considers returning to the Glutton in case something happens, but she is reluctant to leave the fight. In the end, she elects to stay where she is … for the moment.
"Are ye deaf as a post, or simply as stupid as one?" crows the corsair, waving one of his swords over his head. It's more than apparent that his temper has snapped, and the stream of insults he launches appears to have no shut-off valve. "I said ye were a limp-wristed, doily-knittin', lace-wearin', knock-kneed slip o' a squibbit what ever tried ta fool people inta thinkin' he were somethin' wit' a spine! Haul yer tub out o' port, ye curly-furred vermite! Why, I never seen such a… " And so on…
The brown-furred Khatta captain unobtrusively moves her left hand to her crossbow. This could get nasty.
The poodle's jaw snaps shut. He nods curtly, and speaks to his guards, "Bring me the rude one, please. Feel free to snap a few things in the process, if you would." He spins on one heel, and starts to return towards his ship.
Having overheard a familiar torrent of invectives all the way from the dock, Aaron peeks around a stack of crates to see if there's any trouble.
Kensington's beak clacks. "Ho-ho! So, yer too Lapi ta come down here an' take yer lickin' like a man, eh?" he raves. He almost looks mad, but perhaps not quite. "I stepped on things in tidepools wit' more backbone than ye! A bowl o' three-day old kyootcumber chili puts up more fight than ya!"
Aaron thinks, (Yup, it's Kenny alright. Doesn't even look like he's drunk yet either.)
The poodle seems to be ignoring the insults now, as he walks up the gangplank of the ship and starts to engage in conversation with a stern-looking Vartan aboard. The Jupani are very matter-of-factly approaching Kensington, looking somewhat bored to be truthful.
K'ale slips past the Jupani, and scampers across the ground to the Glutton, boarding quickly and disappearing.
Mira, who has followed behind the guards, shouts up to the deck of the unknown vessel. "Who do you think ye are? Th' Korv's a lawful passenger on th' good ship Glutton here. By the First Ones, I hope ye can explain yerself."
Aaron leans over a crate to hiss, "I think you won, Kenny."
The winged Hekoye continues to wait by the wall of the tavern, keeping an eye on both the Jupanis, and the Poodle and Vartan aboard the ship.
The corsaire squares off with the Jupani, bouncing on his toes, his tailfeathers flicking up and down like a black fan. The fight with Plaith is completely forgotten. "So, ye wanna chunk o' me? Tuck yer tails between yer legs and scamper back into the bilge where ye belong, before I have ta hurt ye." Oddly enough, he seems happier, and more vigorous than he did sulking in the tavern. "Whatta ya mean, Aaron? Thing's are just heatin' up. Better be quick if ye wanna piece o' the fun… "
The poodle shrills back at Mira, "I am Lord Rathos, and I own this line! And I will not take to being insulted! The freaks you travel with are bad enough, but then the verbal assault! I am well within my rights."
Aaron's ears droop at the offer. "Oh, that's okay. I'm sure there'll be plenty of pieces left over afterwards… "
The Jupani are dressed in strong-looking leather armor. They are both armed with hardened staves, but one of them also has what looks like a real metal dagger tucked in his belt. They move towards either side of the corsair.
The Glutton's captain yells back. "They're payin' passengers, an' th' Glutton'll take 'em wherever they're goin' as long as they play by my rules. Ye've got no right to be abductin' 'em. An' I don't see no lines in sight!"
Despite his words, the Lapi slips a hand into his vest and pulls out a small blowgun. Just in case.
The poodle lets out a barking laugh, "Are you daft as well as ignorant? I've got twelve ships in my line, you've never heard of me?"
Kensington's eyes glitter at the sight of the dagger. "Now that's a pretty bit o' work… " He dances from his left foot to his right, and back again, his own pair of steel feathers pointed outward, presenting a prickly bird.
The poodle continues, "I just want the one who insulted me, that's all!"
Mira continues to finger her crossbow. "I ain't heard o' ye nor seen no ships o' yours in all th' skies I've ever sailed!"
The Jupani attack at the same time. The one in front of Kensington swings at the two swords, trying to take them out of play. He manages to pin one to the ground only. The one from behind takes a swing with his staff, but the Korv hears the whistle and ducks it completely.
The poodle stammers for a moment, then comes back with, "Well, there are!"
Aaron perks an ear towards Mira and the poodle. (Big deal. One or a dozen ships, he's still just a deliveryman) "Let me know if there're too many for you to handle, Kenny."
The brown Khatta yells back, "Prove yerself!" Nothing more.
Lochinvar unfurls his wings and with a just a couple of powerful flaps, is by the Korv's side. On landing, he grins at Kensington. "You just can't keep out of trouble, can you?"
Kensington strikes behind himself where the average sized person's nose would be… unfortunately, that's about chest height on the Jupani. The bell of his cutlass bounces off, and he only manages a weak comeback, cutting partly through the other Jupani's staff. "Just seems ta… follow me around, Lochy. Feel free to carve a out a bit fer yerself!"
The Hekoye chuckles, and sizes up one of the Jupanis. "No sabres to slice with. How about I just tear him up with my claws a little?"
The Jupani both draw back a moment, as the other enters the fray. Then the one behind Kensington attacks Lochinvar, while the first continues to attack the Korv despite a notched staff. A swing of the staff takes Lochinvar's legs out from under him, dropping him rather painlessly but effectively. A swing of the other's staff, and one of Kensington's swords lands near Aaron.
The Lapi selects a sedative-coated chitin dart from his pouch, and loads his weapon, but doesn't raise it or take aim. He isn't too sure it would penetrate the leather armor anyway. His outward calm is shattered by the clatter of Kensington's sword though, and his ears shoot up in alarm.
Aaron mutters, "Okay, Mister Staff… " and blows a dart at the Jupani's neck.
Lochinvar, while picking himself up, attempts a lunge at the Jupani with the staff also, not having seen Aaron fire off the dart.
The Lapi's dart strikes the Jupani squarely in the neck. What feels like a light sting at first, slowly seems to start overwhelming the guard, and he starts to stagger a bit in his motions, getting gradually worse. Meanwhile, Lochinvar manages a rather rattling blow to the other Jupani, putting him off his balance for a moment.
Though he's not able to get up in time, Lochinvar calls out to the corsair to take advantage of the Jupani's disorientation.
Aaron kicks Kenny's dropped sword across the deck towards the Korv. "I think the odds are a little fairer now."
The sounds of battle reach Mira's ears. As she warily eyes the poodle, her hands load a bolt into her crossbow almost as if it were an afterthought. She watches the battle, hoping intervention won't be necessary it wouldn't be honorable.
The Lapi climbs back up onto a crate, where it's safer (and where he has a clearer line of fire).
The Korv tilts his head curiously at the now uncoordinated Jupani. His look of puzzlement changes to one of surprise as his sabre skitters across the pier. He kicks the blade up to catch it, and looks over at the source… a blowgun armed Lapi. "Well, well, well! The Lapi's got guts after all!" He gives the drugged Jupani a light pop in the nose, to tip him over.
Aaron waves back to the Korv, "Yes, and I'd like to keep them inside of me, if you don't mind."
The Jupani does all but call out "Timber!" as he topples. The drug seems to have had a powerful effect on the poor guard. He lands with a loud thud, his helmet rolling across the ground.
(Must have been something he ate,) thinks the Lapi, as the Jupani falls.
The other Jupani looks slightly nervous, moving towards his fallen compatriot, "Hey… is no goods. Why not just comes with me?"
Kensington looks duly impressed. "Well, tain't facin' off 'gainst a foe one-on-one… but th' Cutlass kin 'preciate skill when 'e sees it! Yer all right, Lapi. I'll letcha keep th' jupi's ears fer a momento! In th' meantime… Lochy, turn out that yapper's lights!"
Aaron turns slightly green at the notion of cutting up the passed-out Jupani.
The poodle is hopping up and down on the deck, "That… that's my guard! Hey, you can't do that!"
Mira decides that enough is enough. Trying to fight back her temper, the captain shouts, "He can. And he has. Consider that th' next time ye go kidnappin' a warrior!"
Lochinvar picks himself up onto his feet, and slowly approaches the Jupani, grinning slightly and mock punching one paw with the other.
"I got bigger, softer, fatter'n uglier yappers ta stitch." With a quick swordsman's salute at Mira, (You tell 'im, Cap'n!) Kensington leaps into the air, turning about, and making to land on the Braying Mule's deck…
Aaron smacks a palm against his forehead, both ears flopping forward, as Kensington boards the other ship. When will the Korv remember that he's not a pirate anymore??
The poodle takes a couple steps back. The Vartan steps forward, "Nots fighting on my ship. You beats personal guard, not want my crew involved." He looks not unkindly at Kensington, as if he'd like to whop the poodle sometimes himself, but his talons look ready to move fast.
The Jupani stumbles, as he heads back towards the ship, not willing to fight both the hekoye and the Lapi. He stops halfway there, and sees Kensington already there. He decides for a middle ground, and ducks into the tavern.
Mira calls to the Vartan. "Are ye the cap'n of this ship? Ye sound like ye've got yer wits about ye, unlike Mister Poofbrain here." The tip of her now fully-armed crossbow indicates the poodle.
The Korv alights on the deck, but makes no move to advance, instead pointing at the poodle. "Cap'n Mira over yonder's speakin' true. What're ye doing workin' neath th' likes o' him?"
The Vartan nods, "Captain, yes. I no wants more fighting, two crews all get involved. Bad for profits." The poodle starts to say something, but the Vartan glares strongly at him, until he wilts, a rare thing for a poodle.
Now that the immediate skirmish is over, Aaron hops off the crate and goes to retrieve his dart from the dozing Jupani.
The Vartan scowls, "I needs job, him hires. I work well, run tight ship. Sometimes, he come. Only part owner… other owner give me run over ship, but not him."
Upon seeing that the guards have fled (cowards), Mira removes the bolt from the crossbow, safing the weapon again. She walks up the Braying Mule's gangplank, but stops at its end. "Permission to come aboard?" she inquires.
The Vartan looks at the empty crossbow, then sighs, "Permission yes."
Grudgingly, Kensington returns his sabres to their scabbards. "Aye, well then… I got no bellyache wit' ye, I suppose. Poodle, if ye know what's good fer ya, ye'll keep yer tail docked behind a desk, where it belongs."
Aaron steps up next to Lochinvar, and asks, "Looks like the Captain has everything under control, yes?"
The sullen poodle tries to sound threatening, "I'll not forget this."
Nodding, Lochinvar agrees. "One would, of course, expect that from a captain of her calibre," he notes.
"That's th' idea, Rathos," snorts Kensington. He taps the bell of his sword, looking somewhat disappointed. Bah, not a drop of glory to be had today. He didn't even get to finish his spar with… "Plaith! Mira, didja see where Plaith got ta?"
Claws click lightly on the deck. Mira makes her way to the Vartan. She sighs. "I'm sorry somethin' like this 'ad to happen. Yer crew, they didn't get 'urt, I hope?" A brown hand extends toward the avian. "Cap'n Mira, of th' Glutton." A motion of her head indicates the brightly-painted ship moored nearby.
Looking back to the battleground, it seems that Plaith is standing, just staring at the fallen Jupani.
The Vartan grasps the proferred paw in a strong talon, "Layell. Braying Mule." He shakes his head, "No, none hurts, but for Jupani. Is not your concern, or mine. I glad your crew fight good."
"Er… " The Korv looks momentarily worried at the sight of the fishakim, and glances over at Mira. "Err… looks like ye got things taken care of o'er here… I better see ta our… ah, lads."
"I don't suppose they had any fresh fruit in the Tavern, did they?" Aaron asks the winged Heyoke, not noticing Plaith.
Mira smiles. "Smooth sailin' to ye, then. I 'ope ye can keep th' poofbrain here under control… " She shudders slightly, then lowers her voice so as to keep the poodle from overhearing and says in a knowing tone, "Th' only good thing about th' poofballs is th' fees ye can charge." She winks.
"Can't say I really noticed," Lochinvar replies. "You could ask, of course. You might get lucky."
Aaron hmms. "I think I've used up my luck for the day. I'll stick with the stuff in the galley."
The Vartan cracks a smile for the first time, "Pays in more than just shinies, yes." He salutes slightly, "Perhaps paths cross again sometime. Clear sailing, and safe journey hope."
Gliding down from the rail of the Braying Mule, Kensington lands lightly by Plaith, looking down at the unconscious Jupani. "Hoy, Plaith. Ye look like ye saw a ghost. It ain't his, ya know… he's just snoozin'."
Mira returns the salute with crisp military precision before walking down the gangplank.
Plaith blinks slightly, "Oh? Oh, hello." His whispy voice seems thinner than usual, "I've never seen an actual fight. Spent hours each day with the sword, but always… well, I guess you know." He shakes it off slightly, "I'd better get used to it." He half-smiles, "You're lucky… another twenty seconds, and I would've had that match!"
The corsair stoops down, plucking the sleeping Jupani's dagger off the belt it's attached to. "Heh, heh, yer dreamin', Plaith! Yer good, but I think I knows a few things ye could stand ta learn. A few in technique, though this'un's one ye learn in th' shippin' lanes… " He gestures at the Jupani, then stands, looking the dagger over.
The dagger isn't particularly fancy, but the blade is metal. Or, looking closer, a somewhat thin metal core, which the blade is honed on, and sides of chitin. Not wonderful, but quite servicable and most likely fairly pricey.
Plaith chuckles, "He'll be angry when he wakes up." The shaken nohbakim starts towards the Glutton, lost in thought.
Kensington gives Plaith a friendly thump in the arm… fin… whatever, then turns toward the tavern. "Hoy, Lapi! I got somethin' fer ya."
Aaron turns to look at the Korv. "What is it, Kensington?"
Mira greets Plaith as the Nohbakhim steps onto the Glutton's deck. "Are ye all right?"
Plaith smiles weakly at the captain as he boards, "Yes… yes, thank you. I think I just need some time to think."
The corsaire holds the metal dagger up by the tip of its blade, extending the pommel toward Aaron. "I started th' action, an' it seems ye an' Lochy finished it. I coulda stood there waxin' me beak, an' nothin' woulda been diff'rent. This were on the jupi ya dropped, so's it's yers by right. Yer first piece o' booty!"
Aaron blinks in surprise, one ear up and the other drooping. Then he finally reaches out for the pommel. "Uh… thank you, Kensington."
Kensington's eyes mist over with fond memories. "Why… I remember when I got me first piece o' booty… ya never ferget somethin' like that, ye know." He claps Aaron on the shoulder. "Yer a real man now! Har!"
The Lapi oofs at the slap, but manages not to fall over. That would spoil the mood. "Well… I… err. Thanks, Kensington. That means a lot, coming from a warrior like yourself."
Aaron tries to inflate his chest and look manly, picturing himself in some Tavern telling a pretty young thing about how he got his dagger…
The bird fairly oozes testosterone. "Aye, it is, ain't it? After yer first real fight, ye look at things a whole new way. Th' next step is a hearty drink, where ye can tell th' ladies o' yer exploits, an' watch 'em swoon all over ya."
Aaron smiles, "There are ladies in the Tavern?"
The Lapi slips the knife into his belt. Maybe he did earn it. Afterall, the Jupani would probably have been maimed or worse if he hadn't been knocked out…
"Well, ye gotta find th' right ones," muses Kensington, looking over the pub disapprovingly. He heads for the exit, rasping, "Come wit' me, an' I'll tell ye where th' best waterin' holes be. Why, I remember this one place near th' Straits o' Gold with th' prettiest barmaids ye ever saw, where th' country girls were as sweet as sugarfir… " His elaborations are lost as he departs the bar.
And as for the captain … the captain was last seen retiring to her quarters. She hasn't gotten much sleep in the past few days there's been a lot of excitement. It seem's she's left orders to not be disturbed for anything less "than the imminent return of the First Ones." Hopefully, the next few hours will be quiet.