Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

The woman who entered the bar was a strange sight in Almund, and not merely for her race. While there were plenty of Raskithecal amongst the Imperials, they rarely visited Almund, which would have made the woman strange enough. But she was an Ithecal, the smaller and more human cousins to the Imperials dominant people. But it was not her sky blue serpentine tail that set her apart, not the plate armor she wore. This Ithecal was Liathen Almund, the youngest of the Twenty Pirate Lords of Scalvoris, and the sudden momentary hush in the room showed the weight respect and fear the Lords were given.

The Guardian glanced about the room for a moment, the slithered up to the bar. The Ithecal pirate had been there often enough that the bartender had a mug of ale and a plate of meat and apple tarts. Liathen didn't look at the crowd as she ate, simply keeping her eyes on her meal until one particularly drunk old sea dog got up and swaggered over to her. "You're the young brat what made Lord, ain't yah?" he said, tauntingly. Liathen just nodded, though her hand dropped from her mug. "Arr, it's a damn shame seein' a ship at the hand of such a wee brat what only got her title cuz that cake makin' weaklin' likes ye." he said, laughing raucously.

At that insult, Liathen stood up, rising up on her tail to an impressive eight feet in height. "Ye need to keep yer mouth shut. Or we'll be findin' out how well ye talk without yer head." The Guardian growled, to which the man grinned and drew a heavy belt knife. Liathen simply smirked and drew her own knife, swinging it out in a slash with the same motion and slitting the braggart's throat in one swipe. Turning to face the tavern, she held the knife up, the point of blade facing the patrons. "If anyone else wants to insult me, sack up and step forward." she said, her voice calm and clear.

No one seemed particularly suicidal though, so Liathen simply wiped her knife clean and grinned at the patronage. "Glad to hear it, don't much like spillin' our own blood. But anyone what's lookin' to have a good time, well, come an' have a drink with me." she said, sheathing her knife and taking her drink and meal over to the mans now vacant table.

On the right-side of the trio, a man was seated, not overly far from them. Not too far to throw a knife or bottle straight at them, that's for sure. Fortunately, that was just hypothetical; The man smirked at his aggressive, and truthfully quite suicidal, train of thought...He really should have just stuck to light ale instead of that damned strong swill pretending to be rum. Letting out a soft rumble from his throat, without any meaning other than to get the damn phlem stuck in his throat cleared out, he spat next to him on the hardwood floor. One hand grasping the bottleneck casually, keeping it in place as it rested on the man's knee, another hand dangling off the back of the bench, he couldn't be in a more casual and defenseless position really. Apart from the near-by wall behind him, there wasn't much protecting him, was The Guardian to misinterpret the audible spitting as an insult. To add injury to that insult, the man's eyes were drilling into said Guardian, there was little to misinterpret at this point in time, if only she was to turn her face to look at the origin of the sound. Why was it this man was so suicidal passive-aggressive, picking a fight he had, beyond any doubt, no hopes of winning?!

Was he that drunk? That stupid? That brave? Nah, he was just that smart...Cough.

He had been there, quietly, drinking for quite a while now and sure, yes, he was drunk..stupid...brave...But none of those factors mattered, he had just seen that the drunken fool, who had dared to publicly taunt and even engage in combat with one of the Pirate Lords, hadn't arrived at the pub alone. Something that the other patrons must have escaped, or perhaps the ones that did notice, saw no reason to alert the Guardian of such a thing. Hoping for a grand spectacle where the young'un of the Pirate Lord would get shanked in the throat from behind, Scalvorians were weird like that. As the blurred gaze of his eyes scanned the filthy bar, mainly because of people doing as they see fit..Like spitting on the floor...Those bastards!! Most of the faces and eyes in the bar were turned to stare right back at the next fool to taunt the Guardian, he figured the Guardian and her entourage near-by must be looking at him too, good, makes it all the easier to snuff out that skulking rat. He remembers that talking meatloaf who got cut up real nice, was talking to a shorter-than-average man, but he can't remember his face for the life of him---Goddamned matchsti---That was it, he had red hair! Flaming red hair like a lit matchstick, where the fuck was that vermin?!

That's when he saw him, clear as day and not surprisingly, his eyes weren't focused on the man at all, they were trying to call down lightning straight on the Guardian, rage filled, wet eyes...Must have been a close buddy of Meatloaf Man; the taunting man's eyes didn't break away from Matckstick Boy, especially not once he started moving, with one hand digging around the inside of his vest, he doubted the avenging sidekick was about to whip out a cupcake. Throwing table and bottle aside in a sudden outburst of energy, the man shouted "Watch out!" As he dived right on top of the avenger, the two rolled on the nasty-as-fuck wooden floor, insults and limbs flying everywhere, until they came to a halt. Embarrassing at it may be, without his cutlass, Matchstick Boy was tougher and living a longer life than the heroic man, cough, had initially hoped for.

The copperhead was laying on top of the man, pushing down with all the force his soulless body could muster. Oh, right, he had a knife aimed right at the man's heart to boot, he wasn't exactly aiming for an eskimo kiss or whatever the hell it looked like to the oh-so courageously brave and assisting patrons of this latrine-smelling establishment. "Don't mind me, no no, I CLEARLY GOTS THIS!" Heaving and breathing heavily, the man was less than an inch away from getting his heart pierced when he kneed Matchstick Boy with all his ferocious might, right in the coinpurse...His only weakness!...And with a 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmpppfffhhhh' from between closed lips, Matchstick Boy was vanquished!

Laying, on the stickiest non-candyshop floor he had ever laid sprawled out on, he looked at the trio near the bar, wink-pointed at them and with a huge grin said "You're welcome!" Right before he grabbed hold of the knife and plunged it to the hilt through Matchstick Boy's jugular.

Liathen looked up at the girl who joined her and nodded, gesturing to a seat. "Ain't no need to ask, Lass." she said, grinning slightly, before turning to look at Dana as he sat down. "Yah, I remember ye, Dana. Run The Kennel, got into with O'Rourke a while back, when I was still on The Fearless, as I recall." she said, before turning as O'Rourke called out to Dana, making sure the Kennel Master hadn't brought his dogs. She returned the bartenders smile as he sent his bartender to clean up the corpse.

Then someone shouted at her and started a fight with someone she guessed to be a companion to the dead man. At his comment while he was rolling around on the floor, Liathen got up and started to move toward the fight when the man dealt with his opponent. "Nicely handled." she said, sitting back down and gesturing at the table. "Come, join us." she said, smiling as she turned back to the table. "You're with the Royal Reaver, ye said? And how is the old man doin'?" she asked of the girl who had first joined her. "Ain't seen Diarnav in a long time, but he was a good one." she said, laughing slightly as she spoke. The Guardian was on relatively good terms with The Pirate King, and the two had worked together a few times. Granted, Liathen could count the Lords she wasn't on at least decent terms with on one hand, with a thumb left over depending on how she was getting along with Ereshki that day.

Opting against dusting himself off with hands that, just now, got quite the make-over with a thick layer of blood and all sorts of filth from the floor that gave Gaunt a hard time getting up, considering the mixture of all types of fluids -The fuck is this?!- almost glued him to the glazed hardwood floor's coating. Nothing he wasn't used to though, hell, his place wasn't much better than this den if he had to be honest. With a smile and a nod in acceptance of the Guardian's invitation and compliment, Gaunt joined the threesome. Two of them were quite famous, notorious even, residents of Scalvoris. The woman whom he couldn't place, seemed to be one of the Guardian's kind though, a pirate. The way she behaved herself, spoke and was basically covered from head to toe in blades and other types sharp weaponry, to the point he wondered if she was as an evolved porcupine. Not out loud of course, porcupines are dangerous!!

Having ordered another mug of ale, he turned his attention to the conversation that had started again, having taken a brief intermezzo during Gaunt's grand debut play of "The Meddling Git". Considering the topic at hand, Gaunt was able to deduct the woman was beyond doubt a humanoid pirate, not a porcupine, and even a member of the Pirate King's crew. Quite the feat, the Pirate King was known for going all out for his boys & gals, Gaunt could only presume that also meant he was selective about whom he would thrown down for though. In his mind that logic clicked, but he couldn't be certain of course, he had never even met or spoke to the ol' timer once in his life.

Just when he was about to inquire about the Pirate Lord and such, the woman spoke to him instead. There was a tone of slight hostility in her voice as she asked about his connection with the two men that just gave their life for their dumb baseless pride and honor, or whatever the fuck caused them to be so rash to engage a Pirate Lord. Gaunt couldn't be sure but he figured the Guardian would've been more than capable of dealing with the youngster Gaunt had clashed with, easily.
In response to the seemingly quite volatile woman, Gaunt simply replied:

"Yes. The time I knew him, best 60 trills of my life, didn't you see us cuddle over there?! True love!"

He grinned at the woman, his usual carefree attitude was one that more often than not got misinterpreted and resulted in conflict, occasionally there were people on Scalvoris that didn't take grave insult to their code of honor, pride or whatever the fuck they used as a moral compass. Those people were few and far in-between though, he hoped the woman wouldn't take it the wrong way and attempt to shiv him with one of her blades. 'Ah well.'

He noticed the woman wasn't the only one seemingly suspicious of poor lill' ol' Gaunt, the infamous Dana was eyeing him up as well. As Gaunt stared right back at the man known for his allegiance to Gibney and their Kennel, he could literally see a spark of enlightenment hit him as his facial expression changed and he actually knew of Gaunt. He wouldn't have guessed that even if the odds were stacked 1567816578154187 to 1. "Aye, I'm often called the Joker, Wildcard, whatever they choose to compare me to...Another crowd-favorite has got to be Sack'o'Dung!"

"How's life at the Kennel?" Gaunt asked with a light smile on his lips, implying he knew about Dana, at least a bit, as well.

Liathen smiled as Raynarde said that Diarnav was doing well, and nodded again. "Aye, he probably would, though as his ship ain't designed wit' Ithecal tails in mind, he might resent the trouble it causes a bit." she said, laughing. The Ithecal and Raskithecal had problems with stairs so they generally had some trouble with ships unless they were specially designed, like The Shield of Scalvoris or The Blue Conqueror. The Fearless hadn't been designed with tails in mind, but modified after the fact, which was part of the reason Liathen had decided to start her career on it, as opposed to some of the other options available at the time.

The Guardian mostly ignored the by-play between Dana and the new arrival, as well as the conversation the barmaids were having. This was less due to lack of interest, however, than it was the presence of The Cat, who had just jumped into Liathen's lap and laid down. Smiling slightly, the Ithecal reached down and scratched the purring feline behind the ears as the others talked before looking back up at them. "Mercenary of sorts are ye, Joker? Considered signin' up with The Kennel? The pay well. Or a couple of the crews are always lookin' fer new hands. Just stay as far away from The Divine Beauty and her captain as you can. At best, you'll wind up broken-hearted and alcoholic like that poor bastard up at the Watch. At worst, well....the worst usually wind up at Nellie's or in the gutter, and either case they ain't good for much." Liathen's tone turned cold and bleak as she spoke. Vaniel the Vain was one of Lords she wasn't on good terms with and generally the one she hated the most.