Cotton like clouds of steam poured into the pure blue sun lit sky, accompanied by the whistles and hisses of churning engines and grinding gears as a large water bound vessel of gleaming chrome and bronze pushed through the wading tides of the deep blue ocean, leaving a foamy wake in its trail. It was a large Galleon class ship, sporting massive sales which gently billowed in the breeze and large burgundy paddle wheels on each side which spun sluggishly in the waters, propelling the massive craft forward. Just ahead, a colossal half dome shell of structures and docks, gaping like the maw of a titan waited to receive the large ship which was dwarfed in comparison. Lining the insides of the massive structure like misshapen fangs were metal scaffolding and catwalks which bridged between several overhanging cranes and pulley systems. Dusty and mossy spotlights littered the infrastructure, gently dangling in the oceans' draft on the ends of bronze cords.

Another plume of pillowy steam hissed out of silos across the top of the ship as its engines cooled. The paddle wheels eked to a halt. Ahead of the ship, sectioned off by docks made of brass and wood were a crowd of smaller boats and water faring craft all lined up in their own little spaces, held in place at the stern by gear bound mechanical arms with hands gloved in off-white rubber and stained with a layer of scum, rust, and moss. Water lapped against the sturdy metal legs of the dock as the large vessel grew closer. A mist of foam and sea water sprayed into the air as a pair of large brass mechanical arms rose from the water just below each side of the ship, wrapping their fingers around the stern of the boat and halting its motion. After a bit of jittering around and whining of creaky mechanisms, the gloved hands tugged the boat through the water and gently but sluggishly moved the ship into place along side the dock. A twelve foot tall man with three eyes, blue tinted skin and baggy worn out jeans held up by suspenders shambled over the the edge of the dock toeing a large metal canister over his shoulder. Sauntering up next to the new arrivals, the giant reached out With lanky arms, and was able to easily set the cylindrical container onto the ships deck. His sunken in face wore a mulish expression as he reeled back away from the ship, lumbering around for a bit before making his way back to the small dock house and squeezing himself inside.

"Attention passengers of the aurora Ferry, We have arrive at our destination of Runeria. If this is your destination, please make sure you have all your belongings and exit onto the docks on the port side of the ship. Welcome to the Relic Island!" Metal doors on the deck of the ship slid open, and a ramp extended off the left side of the ship, connecting with the boardwalk. On cue, a hustle and bustle of travelers of all creeds began to file off the ship.

"Kracken wonton!" "Fired seakhawk!" "Megalodon Miso!" As soon as the docks end, the coastal town of Port Runeria begins, along with the welcoming party of barters and merchants eager to catch the eye new customers among the flock of travelers. "Only the best deals right off the boat!" "Mermaid pharamone extract! Smell just like the sexiest sirens!" "Wada wada royal dresses and night wear wada wada! Make men drool wada wada!" "Enchanted pearls! Guaranteed ten years of good luck!" Soon to follow is a bombardment to the senses as the sights, sounds and smells of the town greet those coming from the docks. The air was choked with the smells of frying fish and various food stands mixed in with the salty oceanic breeze. All around and above, a colorful display of patterns, posters, and decorations litter the storefronts and skies, strung up between lampposts and rickety buildings. Cobbled streets and alleys wind through the cluster of buildings, stands, and tents marking the pathways through the entire town.

Deeper into town, nestled snugly between a not so classy night club and the entrance to a rather large and crowded bazaar, laid a shabby wood and iron two story part bar, part motel known by the off center wooden sign dangling over the doors as the Leaky Grove Tavern. Inside the dimly lit confines of the muggy drinking hole, several patrons both new and old jostled and drank the stress of their travels away. Scantily clad waitresses glided between tables, doling out drinks while absently swatting away wandering hands and pinching fingers. Sounds of merry and music rang through the air as a quartet of musicians playing brass, strings, keys, and drums filled the tavern with a jazzy melody. The cloying scent of alcohol and perfume wafted about the tavern, which mixed with a twinge of sweat closer to the claustrophobic dance floor. Wood chips and dirty rushes were kicked about the smooth stone floors as couples and drunks threw themselves from one side of the bar to the other, possessed by the rhythm of the music.

In spite of the boisterous crowd that populated the noisy tavern, there was one area among the dingy interior that remained relatively clear. Rather, it was an area most everyone avoided. Near the back, sitting at a gnarled mahogany circular table in the small clearing made by the other patrons, were a sinister looking group of shady individuals. There were five in total, sporting scars and looming expressions with cold stares. Each seemed a bit rougher than your common scoundrels that common a place like this, with hands never straying too far from the rapiers and flintlock pistols that hung loosely off their belts. Among them, one in particular seemed more hardened than the others.

A long scraggly bush of black wiry whiskers coated the rather large mans maw, hanging over his broad half exposed chest. Curly disheveled hair the same color as his beard draped down over his shoulders from beneath a three cornered leather hat. With a burly arm he rose a wooded mug filled with a dark brown booze to his mulish visage and poured the liquid down his gullet over stained teeth. What missed his mouth ran down his chin, leaking through an unkempt beard and staining his weathered burgundy doublet. Drawing his arm up to empty the mug, his bristly chest and somewhat plump gut further emerged, fully relieving a tattoo that ran down the center of his abdomen. A symbol which has been on countless bounty posters offering millions of gold for the last two years. The mark of the Red Fang Pirates.

---

The whistle for departure from the ferry-ship Aurora startled Zarpaden awake. The scoundrel rubbed his bleary eyes and he wiped a wad of spit from his bristly chin. He sat up among a pile of canvas and sacks containing fruit. A few apple cores and banana rinds were scattered around the man. Two men stood before him, a grim expression on their soot-covered faces. The smaller of the two had a wicked scar across the side of his face. One of his eyes hung lazily in the socket. The other man, bare chested and bristling with muscles pointed a finger at Zarpaden.

"Stowaway!" he said, reaching for Zarpaden's tunic. "Thief!" spat the other man pointing at the discarded fruit rinds. The two pulled Zarpaden to his feet. Still groggy, Zarpaden checked his pockets. His sword was somewhere nearby...

"Now wait a minute, gentlemen," said Zarpaden, attempting to buy some time. "Can't we talk about this?"

"Sure," said one of the men. "You can explain to the cap'n, now move!"

Zarpaden cocked his head to the side. "You did not say please." The two launched themselves at the stowaway, fists raining down on his head and chest, knocking him to the ground once more.

"Tie his hands!" shouted the larger man. Zarpaden was searching frantically for his weapon among his makeshift bed. Where the devil is the blasted thing! Blows continued to fall, and Zarpaden felt his hand wrenched back behind him. He started to kick furiously, connected with something soft, and the attack was momentarily abated. Taking the opportunity, Zarpaden grabbed the nearest thing he could find. His nimble fingers wrapped around something spherical and he flung the thing as hard as he could at the man still attacking him.

"Ooof!" The one-eyed man reeled back into his companion, who was prone clutching his stomach. Zarpaden leapt to his feet with an armful of fruit and began launching apples, bananas, avacados, whatever he could get his hands on at his attackers.

"Ha!" shouted Zarpaden triumphantly. The men retreated, but already Zarpaden could hear more footsteps down the corridor of the cargo hold. Something glinted in the lantern light; a shiny metal sword hilt tucked beneath some burlap. Zarpaden rolled (rather dramatically) to retrieve his blade, stood up and vaulted over the two ferry-men with a laugh. Curses and shouts followed him down the corridor.

---

later...

Soaking wet from the short swim through the harbor, Zarpaden sat on a stone embankment outside of the Leaky Grove Tavern. The noise from inside poured onto the street, and Zarpaden wished sorely for a rum. His dinner (and breakfast) had left his stomach churning, and he could do with a hot meal as well. He overturned a soggy boot and seawater splattered onto the cobble road. Zarpaden surveyed his surroundings. The street, wide and busy was one he knew well. He had frequented the city of Runeria once or twice. It had changed in many ways, yet stayed the same. Slipping his foot back into his boot he stood up, plucked a piece of seaweed from his stained tunic and sauntered into the Tavern like he owned the place.

MIRA STREETWALKER

The sound of water lapping against the hull of the Aurora Ferry almost entirely covered the sound of blood dripping from the portly man's throat to the wooden floor. A pair of recently-cleaned knives rested on the bed, blades treated with a chemical solution that left them with a smoky-looking surface, so as to prevent them shining under lights. Their owner, a tall, fiery-haired young woman, stood at the foot of the bed, frowning at the sight of the hefty merchant who had hired her services, as if remembering how she'd paid for her fare across the water.

At the sound of the whistle announcing the ferry's arrival, the harlot cursed to herself and began to dress, slipping a palm-sized steam-powered pistol into a small pocket within her brassiere, and carefully fastening the straps to allow for easy access to the emergency weapon. The low-cut tunic that went over it also left clear access, and advertised the wearer as the lady of the evening she was. A pair of soft leather pants allowed for freedom of movement, and showcased her long legs, and her tall boots became home to the two smoky knives.

Mira Streetwalker; Harlot, Assassin, and erstwhile adventurer opened the cabin door carefully, so as not to reveal the body to anyone who might be passing by through the hallway. She didn't carry much with her, which set her apart a bit from some of the other passengers, but her coin pouch was heavy after emptying that of the now-deceased merchant. Merging into the crowd, she stepped off of the boat onto the damp streets of Runeria. Though she hadn't been to the city in some time, it exhibited all of the normal traits of a port city, and a harlot like herself was sure to find work quickly enough, especially with the constant influx of sailors on shore leave. With that intention in mind, Mira walked briskly past the street vendors hawking their wares, and found the first Inn she could, hoping to establish herself as open for business, and also find something to drink, to cleanse her palate after the unpleasant night.

The sound of musicians and boisterous patrons drew Mira as surely as a rope on a misbehaving dog. She snuck inside, trying not to make herself too visible, as she was hoping to rest a bit before being hired again, for either of her professions. She would usually have chosen a table towards the back with this intention, but the most shadowed space seemed quite, quite occupied. Bearing this in mind, she took a seat at the bar itself, plunking a few coppery coins on the table with what she hoped was an honest-looking smile. Some taverns liked to have plenty of her kind on hand, to create an atmosphere of easy fun, but others discouraged the presence of whores, attempting to preserve an image of decorum. She waved for a drink, hoping that this place was one of the former, as the clothing of the waitresses suggested.

"W-what are they doing here?" Outside across the port, curious and fearful eyes looked on as a large white and blue ship brimmed with bronze and gold with white sales waded into the harbor. Just like any other ship, the vessel was greeted by massive mechanical arms and gloved hands which guided it in. Painted diligently across the sails and around the broad sides of the ship were symbols unmistakable to anyone in the world. The symbols of the World Military...

A raging guffaw of amusement erupted from a group of ragged drinkers seated near the entrance to the tavern, set off by the sight of the damp Zarpaden as he boldly emerged through the entrance, a trail of watery footsteps in his wake. "Whoa what happened buddy?! You look washed up!" Jested one of the old men between bouts of laughter. "Man that's Shallow!" Snickered another. "Oh cry me a river mate!" Chuckled a third. "Yeah, you know it's sink or swim in this world!" The men's few remaining teeth rattled with laughter as they competed to blurt out more water related puns. Most got lost in the cacophony of music and rabble of voices that filled the bottom floor bar section of the tavern.

Before the three geezers could manage any more quips, the doors swung open again. Their expressions changed entirely, jaws nearly dropping out of their skulls as their eyes glued to the voluptuous form of Mira which appeared from behind the moist man. Captivated by the gyrations of her enchanting motions as she strode by, the old men looked on in awe for several moments before they managed to gather their respective jaws off the floor. Wisecracks and laughter were soon replaced with hooting and whistling. "Hey sweetie pie! How about you let me buy you a drink!" "How 'bout dinner?" "How about a house and kids?" "You old fart, you're dryer than dust in the dessert on a summer day!" "And your broke ass couldn't buy a wart off a cucumber if pickles were sold for stones!"

The old men continued to bicker as the woman made her way to the long circular bar counter made of dark brown mahogany and embroidered with the carvings of lion heads that lined the surface below its edges. As she approached through the shifting crowds, her gaze was met by the piercing brown eyes of a doberman. Thinly veiled in a cloud of smoke, he drew on a half burned cigar dangling from his tan jowls before huffing out a pale plume from the end of his long snout. Pointed ears rotated subtly as acute hearing monitored the voices of those gathered around the counter for beckons or orders. Finishing up with drying an empty mug, the dober-man relaxed his hands gloved in white against the top of the counter, letting his head sink into his shoulders a bit as he quickly read the expression on Mira's face. An expression he recognized by now as someone who wouldn't be shy with the orders. She probably wouldn't be shy with the money either judging by her attire. Something else he had seen plenty of, though not usually while the sun was still up.



"Pick yer poison hon." Growled the hound-headed Bartender in a scruff choked voice. Rings of smoke escaped his fang filled maw, floating through the air to frame the fair skinned face of the red haired temptress. "Make it snappy doll. It's a busy one today." Behind the bar were several shelves and cases stocked with liquors and ales imported from all over the seas. Thanks to the many traders and salesmen that frequented Runeria, the variety of everything available was great. The booze was no exception.

In a situation like she was presented, Mira had a few options. She could be honest, and simply say that she was tired, had had a long night, and hope that the men would leave off. She could also just ignore them, a tried-and-true method. She chose neither, sticking with her instinct that these men meant well and were simply feeling a bit boisterous. She shot them a wink and a cheeky smile, calling out "Oh, you flatterers! I'm almost tempted to accept!" She then said to the Dober-man barkeep, in a slightly less frivolous tone, "I'll have the pear brandy, if you would. The old gents over at the table there can cover it." A couple of thick silver coins were slid over for the barkeep's trouble, and to show that she was good for the drinks, even if the older men weren't willing to treat her. She fanned the smoke away from her face, then spun on her stool and looked out away from the bar, taking stock of its patrons.

Normally, in a situation like this, Mira would spend time ingratiating herself to a table or two, so as to drum up some business, but at the moment, she was flush for cash, and felt that she deserved a bit of a rest. Her business, after all, kept one up later than most professions. As she surveyed the tavern and its occupants, she noticed a few distinctive points. The men she'd seen before in the back of the room were largely unfazed by her arrival, or at least, they hadn't made any audible comment. There didn't seem to be any other harlots present, at least not in the main eating area, which, combined with her speedy service, boded well for her finding a room for the night, should she decide to stay that long.

Lastly, she noticed the drenched fellow she'd hurried past before. When she'd passed him, she hadn't really paid him any mind; he didn't look a threat, and was a bit too damp to interest her as a customer. Now that she got a look at him, though, she couldn't help but laugh to herself; the man was a mess, with seaweed still clinging to his boots, and hair exhibiting all the signs of saltwater exposure. She slid a couple more coins tot he Dober-Man, and said quietly "That soggy fellow looks like he's had a rough time of it. Could you give him something warming on me?" She wasn't usually a generous woman, but the weighty coin purse and the prospect of a night of real sleep, or at least a patron of her choice, had her feeling unusually wealthy.

Gharn is woken by the shouts of "Stowaways!"
He jerks away from his position under several tarpaulins, placed in over a large amount of cargo in the hold to keep it dry. The young Werebeast rubs his eyes sleepily and sits up, his head making a obvious motion in the tarp.
"Look dere! Anuvva one! C'mon lads! Dis one won' get away!" shouts a sailor as he sees the shift in the tarp
Several sailors rush to the piles of tarps and yank them off. Gharn squints and shields his eyes from the light as he yawns.
"Well, well, well, O've we got 'ere?!" shouts the rough looking man.
"Go away human." grumbles Gharn as he fixes the men with a glare from startling blue eyes.
"Ohhh! Dis'un finks hisself 'igh and mighty eh! We'll show him! C'mon lads! The cap'n don't need 'im conscious!"
The man yanks a short club from his belt and leaps towards Gharn, grinning and yelling as the other men make haste to follow his example.

Gharn growls and seems to swell in size. His ribcage cracks and expands, his arms grow longer as his shoulders broaden. His jaw malforms and thick yellow fur sprouts all over his body. His fingernails shift to claws and his jaw cracks as his teeth change shape into wicked canines. His spine lengthens as he sprouts a tail and his legs shift with a teeth-grinding noise into those of a giant cat.

The man's club bounces harmlessly off of Gharn's forearm as he blocks the blow casually. The other men take several sharp steps back as the club-owner wets himself in fear, the giant were-lion towering over him, growling in annoyance.
"I SAID. LEAVE. ME. ALONE."
"Y-y-yer trespassin'! Y'ain't s'posed to be down 'ere wifout payin'" the man squeaks. His ability to speak up to the terrifying creature before him shows his courage as he does his best not to mess his pants any further.

Gharn pauses to consider the statement and nods once. "I mean not dis-ree-spekt. I leave now. Not bother you again."
He calmly strides past the man who faints on the spot. One of the bravest crew members grabs Gharn's arm as he passes
"Hold it! You'z gotta com wif us!" his voice trembles but his grip is firm. Gharn slowly turns his head to the man and backhands him, sending him into a stack of barrels. "No human. I not go with you. Better things have I to do." he calmly walks out of the lowest deck, up towards the light of the sun. As his head rises from the hatch leading to the lower decks the crewmembers stop and stare at him in shock. He nods once to a few of them and calmly walks down the ramp to the docks and into the city.

Once out of sight of the ship he changes back to human form and walks along the cobbles, taking in the amazing sights of the city he's never seen before. "So this is civilization" he mutters to himself, pondering a display of clocks in a shop window. "Odd. Humans very odd."
He hears some jolly sounding hornpipe music from the nearby tavern and thinks to himself "Boneflutes! It has been too long since I heard their music!" and walks into the tavern. The sight of a young man, half-naked and tattooed, wearing leather breeches and a giant sword on his back seems to attract some attention...

---

Port Runeria was a place that Yeva hadn't visited in a long time, primarily due to her occupation in the workshop, but also because the family rarely made personal visits here. The trade was always good, but the same couldn't be said about the local populace and those who frequented it, which is why her family opted to use third party traders to ship their goods. It was probably her family's fault the place was so dangerous.

The Aurora Ferry was nothing too amazing. It was just a ship. A vehicle for traveling from point A to point B. If she were to say it, she would get an earful from the captains that ran them. Something about how wonderful his 'sea lady' is. Sometimes Yeva was quite glad that she couldn't speak, or else she'd probably get into a lot of trouble for muttering something snarky under her breath. Everyone on this ferry were most likely drunkards considering the way they talked and walked, but as long as they didn't try anything funny with her, everything would be just fine. As the ship landed at the port, loud noises came from the deck below. Apparently there were a few stowaways on board, nothing new about that.

She never thought that Stowaways were much of a problem, then again, she wasn't in the business of making people pay to move places. After a while of bashing and clanging noises, she heard something fall into the water. Probably the stowaway. They were usually slippery people to say the least. They were probably less dangerous than the workers on board in all honesty. The gunsmith watched on as a great beastman climbed out of a hatch and walked off the ship, everyone staring in awe. She didn't know what was so great about beast people, but she made it a note to learn about them some time.

As the commotion simmered down, Yeva calmly got off the ship, her boots making soft clop sounds as she walked across the plank. Upon entering the tavern, she was assaulted with the strong smell of alcohol, sweat and.. something else she couldn't describe. It was gross nonetheless. The music, however, was good enough to make her stick around. Adjusting the rifle slung over her shoulder, she bee-lined for the bar counter, swiftly walking passed the half naked man with the giant sword. As she approached the bar, she noticed a woman saying something quietly to the Dober-Man, whom she now knew was the barkeep. The woman looked mostly human, but Yeva noticed a few elvish features about her. She was quite beautiful after all. Yeva shook her head to clear her thoughts; she was allowed to enjoy the company of nice looking things, right?

She waited patiently for the woman to finish whatever she was saying before walking up to the counter, placing a single coin on the table, as she held up her index finger signifying the number 'one' before gesturing to herself. As if to say 'One drink for me.' Hopefully the beastman knew what she was on about.

---

Hayden was one of the last off the ship, haven fallen asleep in his room. He was awakened by some yelling and groggily gathered his things and strapped on his shield to his back. He fixed himself up in the mirror and rolled his shoulders. "Well hayden, got yourself in a right good mess, eh?" A knock on the door sounded and he opened it revealing a well built crewman who told him they'd docked. Mumbling his affirmations to the other man's amusement, Hayden took his leave. Making sure he had his Writ in his secret pocket. He had several with his gold and family crest. But he doughted the latter would mean much now... He was on the run from them. From her. He made his way above deck and breathed in the smell of the sea. His otter instincts told him that he should go swim, play in the water. But he knew that it was probably really dirty around these parts.

Walking the gangplank he noted a flash of color and saw the market. He almost instantly started drooling at the smells as he walked towards it. Grabbing some fresh fish, smoky rainbow bass which was his favorite, he walked towards the destination the others had reached before him. He finished his fish before he entered the pub, a smile on his face. He weaved his way through the crowd. He spotted the mar and made his way towards it when he noticed someone there. "Yeva..." He recognized her and walked over, waving. "Yeva!" He was grinning as he took a seat next to the smaller woman. He asked the barkeep for a mug of hot cider, spiced if at all possible.

Scarlet curtains behind the band shifted as the melody that strummed and hummed from their instruments died down. Dainty fair skinned fingers painted in sparkly alabaster nail polish emerged from the center of the curtains velvet folds, gently pulling them apart. Emerging onto the small stage was a small brunette woman with colorful patterns painted and tattooed all over her delicate looking body. A white rosary corset accompanied by a tight fitting frilled dress cut slanted from her right lower thigh to just above her left knee accentuated gentle curves. White fishnet stockings held up by ribbons and garters ran down her legs and into a pair of pearly stilettos which tapped lightly against the wooden floorboards of the stage. A few cheers and fair amount of cat calling rose from some of the crowd within the tavern as by some mysticism the lanterns and candles everywhere but around the stage died down. Sharing a quick look and a few grins between each other, the musicians quickly began a new melody, to which the elegant young woman began to sing.



"Whatever you say doll face." Responded the doberman barkeep as Mira listed her wishes. With a small gesture of two fingers, he signaled one of the bar waitresses toward the soggy man with a platter of ale shots as he stood amongst the crowds, before laying his hand down on the coins and pulling them into his other hand. "We'll just say this is a tip then and call it square." Piercing brown eyes began to glow yellow as objects in the bar behind him began to move on their own. Knives danced through the air, slicing through an orange and a lemon that levitated from a woven basket next to the sink. Thin strips fell from the two fruit landing promptly in a chilled glass thinly veiled in frost. While all this happened, he fluidly moved along the shelves and swiftly grabbed a tall thin bottle of clear liquid, picking it out from the dozens of others as if he'd done it a millions times.

The sweet and stinging scent of the pear brandy gently wafted through the air as a cork popped loose of the bottles head. Promptly turning back toward voluptuous woman, the doberman tipped the brandy down, pouring it before Mira's eyes into the thick frigid glass that slid across the counter to catch the liquor. He drew back just in time to fill the contents to just below its brim before smoothly and hastily returning the bottle to its place. A small paper umbrella wrapped with a small decorative orange peel twirled down from the rafters, dropping perfectly onto the edge of the drink. "Enjoy." Said the hound headed bartender in a monotone voice before swiftly moving to the next customer.

Effortlessly gliding along behind the bar, floating bottles of rum and ale lifted in the wake of the bartender, refilling the drinks of wanting patrons who sat at his counter. Any that were finished had their empty glasses and mugs lifted into the air and withdrawn into one of several sinks and patterned the curving wall behind the counter. "And what'll you be havin sweetpea?" Growled the bartender as he came to a halt in front of Yeva, a trail of cigar smoke leaking from his maw. An hand absently straightened his tie and vest before impatiently laying down on the gnarled counter top. "Chop chop."

Heavy footsteps rattled against the wooden boardwalk as uniformed boots marched off the docks and onto the cobbled streets of New Runeria. Groups of pedestrians and tourists alike cleared a path, hastily backing out of the way of the road as a platoon of soldiers dressed in matching white, blue, and gold made their way through the town. "Split up and search everywhere. Turn this place upside down if you have to. Find that stone!"

---

"Compliments of the lady at the bar, Sir!" said the waitress. Zarpaden smiled widely and grabbed the whole tray of drinks. "Thanks!" he said stepping past the puzzled looking waitress. The band started a new number, a swinging standard lead by a beaut of a lady in a frilly dress. Zarpaden drank the ale shots one by one as he waded through the crowd, each drink relieving some of the pain in his head and body. Plucking the last drink from the tray, he discarded it on a table, snagged a burning stoagie and stuck it in his mouth. He inhaled deeply, grimaced and spat the cigar back out. "Dreadful!" he said to nobody in particular. The cigar was quickly trampled underfoot of the crowd.

Finally, reaching the bar he plopped down next to the lady with long red hair. "My thanks dear!" said Zarpaden admiring her lean hourglass figure. "Do I know you?" he continued, but the barkeep had her enraptured with his drink preparation. "Nevermind..." Besides, the noise of the tavern and the catchy tune of the houseband, Zarpaden could hardly hear his own voice. Instead he surveyed the crowd, fingering the hilt of his longsword on his hip.

The crowd was a mixture of odd characters and races. Half-elves, beastmen and Imperial officers drank and laughed. Zarpaden noticed the girl with the Darbinian family crest and he shuddered. The Darbinians were well known to be ruthless and professional, and Zarpaden had heard stories of their efficiency in dealing with certain people.

..edit..

Gharn stared around at the strange place for several seconds, taking it all in. His nose wrinkles at the stench of unwashed bodies, stale alcohol and the stink of tobacco smoke. He coughs as someone blows smoke almost into his face and stumbles towards the bar. He growls in annoyance and glares over his shoulder at the offender, who seems unbothered by the dirty look from the young scarred man.

Gharn growls again, now in a bad mood as he watches the band and woman change style. He eyes the woman for a moment, well distracted. He listens to the music for a moment before growling and clapping his hands over his ears, unused to the odd sounds.
"What is this place!?" he grumbles to himself. He notices a number of wet footprints on the ground and frowns, remembering the shouts and the splash from when he was awoken on the ship. He follows the footsteps to their owner.

He frowns at Zarpadan curiously, not noticing Mira at first.
"You. You were on ship?... Aurora Ferry yes? You-"
His gaze shifts to the stunning beauty sitting next to the soaked gentleman. His eyes glance over her form, resting momentarily on her chest before going back to her face.
"P-pardon. Not meaning to interrupt. I go, we talk later wet-man."
He turns, rather flustered by the low-cut of Mira's dress and not wanting to hang around her, lest he embarrass himself.

---

Yeva, noticing that barkeep probably didn't like vague gestures, flicked out a small bit of parchment, no larger than a business card. Swiftly, she produced her quill which was already dripping with some ink. She wrote with the speed of a kingdom scribe, showing the finished writing to the Dober-Man. "I'll have what she's having." it said simply as she pointed at the voluptuous woman. The drink looked quite nice, especially with that little umbrella. She hadn't seen a drink like that for a long time, so it was looking like a pretty good choice right about now. She wasn't sure how a beast man took to written orders, but hopefully he knew how to read. By now, another tasty looking woman walked onto the stage and started to sing, how nice.

The gunsmith's gaze quickly flicked toward the Otter descendant whom she recognized as Hayden. Her lips formed a small smile as she raised her hand up in a half wave in greeting. Quickly writing onto her another small piece of parchment, she wrote "How have you been?" Yeva saw Hayden as quite a nice person, perhaps a little too nice. Very smiley from what she had deduced from the few times meeting him. She wouldn't call him a friend, rather just an acquaintance. A good one though.

It would seem that a small band of misfits had gathered at the bar. A soggy looking man and another with a large blade on his back. They must be the two stowaways everyone was raving about earlier. She noticed the wet-man's reaction to her crest, which gave her a slight feeling of superiority. The beast man's stuttering was cute, he's probably not used to the presence of a beautiful woman. Elvish ones usually did that to people.

With a body like Mira had, she was quite accustomed to the sort of attention she was drawing. In her opinion, her lineage was essentially perfect for creating an attractive specimen; as a quarter-elf, she wasn't as foreign-looking as a halfsie, but was also finer of features than any pure-human could ever hope to be. Such thoughts weren't uncommon for her; she was well-aware that she was impressively attractive, and she dressed to flaunt it. Even so, if felt as though she was getting more attention than usual, especially as she wasn't dressed as scantily as usual, at least not as lightly as on a work day.

The barkeep's drink preparations captured her attention for the duration of the process. She'd seen Gifts at work before, but the ease and artistry displayed still fixated her. Even if it wasn't a particularly powerfully-displayed talent, it was executed with an artistic flourish that almost made her wish she had something like that- some bloodline trait, or something in that vein.

When the lithe dancer strode up onto the stage, Mira frowned with animosity both ironic and unsurprising. She found the young woman lovely, of course, if a bit tackily-dressed in her mind, but also a bit jealous at the attention she drew, even if she herself was trying to avoid attention at the moment. Not that it was doing any good... She forced a smile back onto her face as others began to flow towards her place at the bar. A lukewarm smile was all the attention she wasted on the rather plain-looking girl who sat near her. She was relieved that the young woman didn't seem interested in speaking, and the reason for that revealed itself quickly enough.

The men were a different case. The soggy gentleman, whose name she hadn't managed to catch, was a bit more familiar than she'd hoped, but then, she had bought him a drink.

"Hmm? Oh. No, I don't think we know each other. Though, I'm afraid that I have trouble remembering every man I've... met. I just figured that you looked cold, and thought that something strong enough might make you feel a bit better. I don't know... I suppose I was trying to pay it forward or something." Her voice lacked the husky, sultry tone it sometimes carried; she wasn't looking for a customer, and was simply speaking with a stranger. There was no need for the extra effort, and it probably made her easier to understand, rather than forcing the poor man to hang on her every word.

At the arrival of the shirtless young man, she was slightly taken aback. He was dressed like a tribal warrior of some sort, and armed with a blade that bordered on absurd. Despite his slightly-imposing appearance, he spoke with the unsure tone of someone who was not only a foreigner, but also quite unused to speaking with those of her trade. It was a combination which she hadn't often seen before, and it tickled her greatly to think of the chance to tease the poor boy. His wandering eyes didn't escape her, and she was sure to make eye contact, fleeting though it was, once he looked back up at her face.

"The Ferry? Yes, I was traveling for business." She spoke with her work-accent now, wishing to see how flustered she could make the half-dressed young man. "It's no interruption. I've just gotten my drink, and I have all the time in the world..." She smirked coyly, tucking one shoulder slightly forward in a practiced move which simultaneously enhanced her bust and allowed one strap of her dress to slip slightly down her arm. She scanned the youth's face for a reaction. Oh, this was going to be fun...

Gharn looked away shyly. He had never encountered an escort before, he didn't even know what they were, but he knew this woman was not the one who had stowed away. A woman of her beauty and charms could simply ask to be taken aboard he reasoned, no need for what humans used as payment.

Thinking of that, he remembered that humans liked shiny things in exchange for items. He rummaged in his pocket and brought out a small lump of silver that he placed on the counter. He looks at the Dogman, slightly suspiciously, and asks "May I have some water? Will this..." he searches for the right word in English, which judging by his slightly broken speech and his unusual accent, is his second language.
"Will this pay?" he asks the barman, nodding to the nugget of solid silver.

As he waited, he looks back at the man and woman, still pink in the face. "Again, I am not mean to interrupt. I ask wet-man why he stow. Ship-man refuse me, so I stow, but wet-man human, he not need be refused yes?"
His scarred face goes redder once more as Mira speaks to him in her sultry tones. The woman in front of him was beautiful, but far too flirty for his comfort. His face turns a light shade of pink as Mira moves, enhancing her bust, seemingly for his benefit. His eyes met hers briefly and he looked away once more, his face reddening further
"I-I-I" he stammers, completely put off guard by Mira's actions "I-I am Gharn..." he finishes, lamely introducing himself.

---

Hayden chuckles. "I've been... Busy." He took a look around, seeing a few of the others who had come in before him. His nose twitched slightly as he smelled the werelion and rather soggy man. "All I'm allowed to say is that we've been working on some new ships. They're absolutely massive. I did learn a few new runes, though. That advice about energy transfer was spot on." He grinned at that. He had always seen Yeva as a really smart and capable woman. Her disability only hid what he thought to be an amazing mind. Though he wasn't yet sure if he could call her a friend. He wanted to, she seemed pretty nice to him.

Hayden's beast senses easily picked yup the sounds of footsteps outside the tavern. His mother, a full Otterkin, had always said he was the best tracker of his siblings. He paid the noise no mind, however, since he was more interesting in the smells of the food and drink in the tavern, noticing that his stomach rumbled and he went a little red at the sound. Speaking quickly to a waitress he asked for the house special as he waited for Yeva to finish writing her reply. He set his sword and shield on the ground next to him.

Briefly glancing over the piece of paper Yeva held out, the barkeep let out a sharp huff before grabbing her payment. The objects in the bar began to perform again, whirling through the air in a flurry of fruit, blades, and bottles as they did before. Brandy leaked into the air like a small suspended river defying gravity before pouring into chilled glass that emerged from beneath the counter, landing with a subtle ting in front of the tight lipped woman. A subtle red glimmer twinkled out from above as a small paper umbrella, same as the first, floated down gracefully and landed in the center of the glass. Through a fog of smoke, the barkeep reached out and pushed the glass forward into Yeva's reach before swiftly moving on.

Next down the line was the half naked tattooed man brandishing the massive blade. Not batting an eyelash, the doberman stopped in front of Gharn, a dim red hue emanating from the tip of the cigar pinched in the corner of his maw between a set of sharp canines."Alright pretty boy...what'll it be." Asked the bartender through a veil of smoke before hearing the request for water. One of the doberman's ears twitched in annoyance as he scoffed and leaned back. A waist of time in his eyes since water sold for nothing. It was pretty clear the man wasn't aware of this fact, meaning he wasn't familiar with some basic customs. On top of that, he smelled a little too much like cat for the bartenders comfort. If it weren't for the fact he was an honorable business-dog-man, he would have taken the silver, but it was against his ethics.

Since he was here, the bartender decided to oblige the cat scented man. "Hmph..." With all the grace and flair of a stone, a small glass flipped out from behind the bar onto the counter, teetering a few times before settling into place in front of Gharn. Globs of water lifted from a drinking barrel a few feet from the bartender, unceremoniously plopping into the glass. "Here's your water bub...and you can take back your silver." Declared the hound a bit crudely, pushing the lump of silver back with the glass of water. "Don't bother me again until you're ready to buy a real drink." With that he carried on, briefly licking his jowls before promptly addressing another customer.

The sounds of the port were significantly more muted underwater, though they carried further, and Starling was still far enough out to sea when she peeked up from the waves that no one without significantly better-than-average sight would be likely to see her from shore. She made no effort to lift more than her head into the air, keeping both weapon and fins underwater as she scouted for a good spot to emerge unseen onto land. Given that her natural eyes were far better at judging depth and seeing things over a larger distance than seeing shades of color, that wasn't much of a challenge for her even so far out.

Once she'd found a good place Starling allowed the currents to pull her back underwater, and then started swimming in the direction of the shore. She quickly gained speed, and soon she was near enough to shore that she had to slow down. She'd picked out a small inlet that ran in underneath the docks and shouldn't be visible from above, and she made sure to keep herself completely under water until she'd swam far enough in that she could pull the majority of her body up onto dry land. From there she could see no one else and could only hear the general hubbub of a busy city, so she placed her pack and staff down where they wouldn't get in the way and then focused on making her body change.

She closed her eyes to better adapt to the changed sight even as her tail became legs and her scales turned to skin, as claws became smaller and gave way to human fingers and nails. Since her scales did not absorb water the same way skin did, she wound up significantly less damp than she'd have been had she made the change in water, and she only wrung her hair out before getting her clothes out of her bag and dressing. They wound up slightly damp, but not unbearably so, and she made sure the change hadn't overlooked anything important before making her way up onto the docks, bag and staff both carried on her back. A few people cast looks her way, but Starlings' clothing was nondescript enough that few of them looked twice, and only her staff drew eyes as she made her way further into town.

Lacking any significant plans, she kept her eyes out for a tavern or something of the like to rest her feet for a while and listen for any local news. As she walked she kept pulling her hands through her hair in an effort to make it dry faster in the sun, and so it was not quite evident that she'd just came out of the water when she finally laid eyes on the Leaky Grove Tavern. To make it even less obvious she pulled her hood up and made sure her hair was sufficiently hidden before ducking inside. The interior was dimly lit, and though the music sounded pleasant she scrunched her nose up slightly at all the strange smells. The place was fairly crowded, the bar no less so, but there were still a number of seats free and she wound up sitting next to a young human man who looked like he'd taken a swim through the harbor with clothes and all.

"A sea breeze, thank you." Starling spoke up as soon as the bartender looked in her direction and placed a couple of coins down on the counter before her to pay for the drink.

---

As always, Yeva enjoyed the theatrical side of bartenders. This one seemed to have some finesse about him that was nice to see once in awhile. She knew very little about how the techniques affected the drink itself, but she recalled someone telling her that is changed the flavor depending on how it was mixed and so on. She lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip from it as Hayden spoke to her. The drink tasted amazing, the pear liquor really mixing well with the other fruits present. It was dangerously easy to drink in her opinion. While she wasn't particularly interested in ships, she was glad that her advice from some time ago had helped a fellow engineer with his exploits.

Placing her drink back onto the counter, she started writing a response on a new piece of parchment, quickly dipping her quill into her ink pot once or twice. She shifted her shoulder, bringing the Pressure rifle onto her lap as she finished writing,"I'm glad that my advice helped, the key to energy transfer is to make sure you keep the energy concentration constant throughout so that nothing goes awry. I might let you enchant my rifle sometime." the note said. The message would to continue on after that after a brief gap on the paper, "I hear you were to be wed? Congratulations. I'm sure your lady is very pleased." If Hayden was to look at Yeva after reading that part, he would see a playful smirk on her face, telling him that she knew what was going on, not that he would know how. Not many things escape the information brokers of the Underground; the Darbinians tend to be favored clients among the brokers as one of the more powerful families within that part of society.

Noticing that he had put his weapons on the floor, Yeva quickly gestured toward them before patting the steam pistol that was holstered to her belt, as if to tell him to keep his weapons on hand instead of resting idly. Her other hand picking up her drink once more. As any Mercenary would be, Yeva was always on her guard, especially in a place like this.

Hayden nodded at Yeva's first response. "I'd be happy to do that. It'll probably be a bit rough since it has a curved surface. But I'm up for a challenge." He smelled food and started salivating when it was placed before him. He dug in, eating quickly, but made sure he didn't seem like a slob as per his mother's intensive mannerisms training. Savory mutton chops paired with some buttery baked potato, Hayden thought he was in heaven.

Until he saw Yeva's second response. Haden groaned, tail flicking rather angrily. "I refuse to be wed to her. She's a monster, her father is a tyrant, and I don't even like women that way..." Hayden snorted. He hadn't even understood how sleeping with another man worked since, his parents refused to let him get out much. "I hate that my parents think they can marry me off too just because I haven't shown any signs of the Traits. It's horrible. Not even sure how you found out since well, Father just announced it a few months back..."

As Yeva gestured to his weapons he snorted and slid out his crossbow, tail flicking his sword and shield closer to him as best as it could. "Don't worry. I'm always armed. My brother thinks it's funny to "play chase" with his swords when he thinks I'm defenseless." He still had a scar from that time.

Gharn watches in awe as the bartender works. He's stunned by the display of magic, never having seen much of it before. Being distracted by the magic he doesn't immediately notice the rude tone of the Doberman until the mention of "a real drink".
Gharn frowns slightly, realizing and recognizing the tone.
"Real drink!?" he questions the Bartender. "What is a real drink Dogbeast?"
He takes the glass in one hand and uses the other to tuck his silver away before looking at the Bartender in mild anger. He allows some of the Lion into him, changing slightly. His shoulders broaden and he grows several inches taller as his muscles expand.

He's then momentarily distracted by the mouthwatering smell of fresh fish. He sniffs the air, trying to locate the scent, only to have it seemingly fade away into nothing. He frowns in annoyance and looks around, distracted from his conversation with the Bartender