RP:Lost in Not Paradise

Part of the Tales from the Row Arc

Summary: The Port's newest arrival continues to rub locals the wrong way. A rich, lost tourist stumbles onto the scoundrels in the island's den of iniquity.

Characters: Finn, Domastine, Lirithen, Leoxander, Solidad.

Location: Port Rynvale; The Broken Barrel Inn

The laws of the land do not apply to this establishment, yet somehow there is order among chaos. Aged, abused by the weather, the Broken Barren Inn stands defiantly against the stormy shores of Rynvale just off the dock, but it is a place far from welcoming. The split, oak carved sign hangs sideways on only one chain, irony not quite lost in the words tarnished by rain. Through that open door barely sitting on it’s hinges, the light of a blazing fire reflects across a dingy interior made to look more wealthy with trinkets. The walls are covered with artifacts and cheap glamour from other worldly locations and ports; rusted weapons and sea-monster fishing lure, ship wheels, a gold-braided rope, the mounted bones of an aquatic creature with seven limbs, tapestries and carvings of various culture, and instruments that no one could know how to play. Centering all of this is Redbeard’s Maiden, herself: a sultry, golden-haired mermaid bust with red painted lips and a beckoning smile, caught in a net draped to the rafters. Mounted to the wall not far behind, a fish-like tail adorned by flawlessly painted emerald scales stretches out behind her. For every first tankard bought in the Broken Barrel she is afforded a salute, a custom that Simon, the bar’s general, has not allowed to die over the years. Dominating the center of this room is an impressive four-sided bar, flanked by booths along all ways, each lit by a hanging candelabra of worked iron. Gatherings of shady sailors and outlaws collect in groups, keeping the atmosphere noisy with harmonica and bagpipe while others plot their next dastardly scheme. While invited to venture upstairs, wandering toward the cellar door might earn you a few dirty looks.

The Barrel, mid morning..

Finn shouldered his way into the Barrel, looking much like a man who had spent the night outdoors and not had the chance to refresh himself in the facing of a new day. Mud lined his boots, and a certain raggedness to the hard lines of his face suggested at the first creeping tendrils of exhaustion. A quick glance was cast to the stairwell, but there was no way in hell he was going into the parlor in this state. Not till he’d crashed for some rest, and food. And not before a drink. “Ale..” he grunted softly the Simon. For once, it was two early for rum, but he had to get the dust of a hard run out of his throat.

Domastine was in the most populated corner of the inn's ground floor, leading a song with those not quite so hungover. Despite the lyrics being sung in his native language, the melody was reminiscent of a sea shanty. As such, the egnimatic human male had a drunk chorus accompanying him as best they could. Splashes of alcohol filled the air, rauchus mimickry of the few words they could pronounce flooding the inn. At the grand finale, the rag cloaked male leaped upon his table, mugs lifted in the air as the final line was sung. Immediately after, cups and fists pounded the table and there was silence. For a moment, of course. Instantly the inn became alive with the cheers, whistles and laughter. Oddly enough, the man was as graceful and acrobatic as ever. He probably did not even take the smallest of swigs of whatever he had been given.

Lirithen :: Speaking of acrobats, Lirithen was here. Well, physically, but his mind and spirit may as well be elsewhere. There was a certain nonchalance in his step as booted feet carried the lithe ranger toward the bar, emerald gaze fixated on something that wasn't there, shoulders slumped to complete the picture of a distracted male. So deep-rooted was said distraction that the usually observant rogue failed to recognise the mud-caked smuggler at his side as Lirithen fell into line at the bar, a sharp bark for a cheap whiskey leaving his fair lips. Sometimes it was therapeutic to feign a shun of more refined concoctions.

The sound of the drunken sea shanty was not at first something to draw the runner’s attention as he nursed his drink over the top of the bar, but the littering of foreign sounding words was. “The hell?..” he muttered under his breath, turning against the surface of his temporary station to allow a gold flecked gaze to sweep the room. Auburn head canted slightly as he lifted ale to his lips again, the cool swig of liquid a welcome reprieve to his parched throat. The foreigner again..and making friends amongst the usually hard to please regulars of the Barrel. Something worth noting. It was the second time in as many days as the dark male had found a way to stand out. Finn was curious enough to consider putting a tail on him. He was distracted from his musings by the arrival of an all too familiar form as it settled in at his side. A lip twitched for the evident distraction of the male, and his lazy drawl spilled forth. “I’m almost hurt Jumper..and here I thought we could part as friends..” his tone was laced with scarce hidden sarcasm. He was not used to losing out on an investment, and the silver elf had been a considerable asset to his team.

Domastine dismissed the hail of appreciations from the rowdy patrons, a smile on his face, "Jah jah, basta!.. Sigan, Sigan!..." By the movement of his hands, he seemed to be encouraging the men to continue on without him. Sounds of disapproval were heard, but the crowd did as it was told, continuing on without the lead singer. The next shanty was sung in much more clear Common, albeit drunken and tone deaf. Alone, he swaggered his way over to the bar, opposite end of the other two men. Again, he ordered a drink, but made no move to drink from it. A finger moved and motioned, keeping somewhat in rhythm to the distant singing. Looking to Finn, he lifted his mug in a salutation to the blackjack dealer from the previous day.

Lirithen :: "Go to Hell, Red," came the ranger's unusually gruff response. 'Twas clear Lirolae wouldn't be one for conversation this eve. Whence the liquid had left his glass, 'Jumper' would soon find himself at liberty to make his own way from the Barrel.

Finn snorted softly at the curse of the silver elf, tipping his glass in laconic salute towards the male’s exiting back. “Already there mate..” he drawled with a provoking grin. The Shores were as close to hell as a man might get on some days. The movement in the corner of the foreigner departing his troop was tracked with whisky gaze, and when the male settled at the other end of the bar, his eyes dropped to the conducting finger with shades of disdain lurking within. There was something about the man that rubbed him the wrong way. “Regular bard there..aren’t you mate? That your day job?” he queried, the question almost lost to another swig of ale.

Domastine took a feigned swig of his ale, going so far as to mimick the shift of muscles from swallowing. Licking his lips of the residue left behind, he answered, "Ahh, yes, among other things. But it would depend on the day, no? For do we not all do something else everyday?" Clasping his gloved hands together and lacing his fingers, he brought tented indexes to his lips in thought. The twin fingers then pointed towards the Runner, "And you, mi compadre, you... how you say... moonlight as a wallower of self-pity when you are not dealing cards upstairs?" Despite the oddly worded insult, there was a pecuiliar tone of sincerity to his foreign accent.

Finn took another slow swallow, a real one and allowed a softly dangerous smile to curve his lips. “Moonlight, aye..” he granted with a show of teeth that was more bite than smile. “Wallowin’ not so much. Man’s gotta keep his finger on the pulse an all,” he said idly. The runner might have been inclined to rise to the bait of insult, were it not for the instinct that had served him well enough so far that he was thus still breathing. Know thine adversary. The foreigner was an onion whose layers needed to be peeled, before it might be chopped..if it were going to be. Besides, insults were tossed like badges of honor amongst comrades, when it came to that. He would choose his battles. “Plannin’ on bein’ in port long?..” Idle, too casual question. An effort at peeling begun.

Leoxander pushed open the door and stepped inside. There was nothing extravagant about that entrance. A dark hood was drawn to the back of his neck, but drifting eyes remained concealed as he made his way to a table away from the crowd, away from the noise, close to the bar in the back.

Finn’s eyes lifted at the sound of the opening door and idly tracked the lycan’s progress to his chosen retreat before flicking back to the stranger down the bar. A man was entitled to his peace. Even as ornery a bastard as the boss.

Leoxander would detour to the four sided bar to pick up the mug of dark liquid Simon was already preparing. No word of thanks, not even a nod given... something was obviously on the rogues mind. A heavy black satchel was pulled from his shoulder and dropped heavily on that chosen table's surface, and only then would he indulge in a thirsty drink of brew that burned the whole way down.

Leoxander would shamelessly eavesdrop on the pair's conversation, although he didn't appear to be listening or care.

Domastine was more of an artichoke. Its thick leaves were almost seperate from the whole, likewise every one of his occupations were treated as if he were a different person each time. A leaf had been plucked. He was a singer and amicable even to the slobbiest of drunks. "Ahh, si. One must always know what is going on around him, no?" Furrowing a brow in a thought, he casually remarked in a low whisper while inclining slightly, "For instance, one always goes to play games of chance, knowing that the servidoras have stick hands, yes? And usually, the dealers are los directores." Leaning back, he shrugged, "Chal serah." Looking around the inn, he said in a distant manner, "Ahh, planning. Plans are for those that have little faith in their own goals. Plan for this and that, but plans go to mierda often, no?" Smiling, the foreigner remarked, "Si, I shall be staying for some time."

Again would that gold flecked gaze shift to follow the movement of the rogue to the bar, though he would not be obvious about his observation. The snort that might have left him as a puff of exhaled air, remained in his head, the male raising the mug to his lips to drain the last of the beverage. “Aye.. mierda..” he repeated.his lips rolling over the foreign word, “..if that means what I think it means.” He allowed the first genuine grin to tug at his lips since seeing the male leading his chorus. “Reckon I’ll be seein’ you around then. Duty calls..” he added with another dry salute of his glass as he pushed himself to his feet. An obvious glance was spared the captain as he backed away from the bar, an idle “Later..’ spilling from his lips before he turned to make his way for the exit.

Leoxander offered Finn a brief glance upon his leaving.

Later that night...

Domastine was having more of an effect on the Broken Barrel than the Captain or Runner would prefer. The rowdiness was complimented by the dulcet strumming of a mandolin from a corner. Every once in a while, a foreign voice would call out, "Otras vez!... Repeat after me." Resuming his strumming, he guided his drunken chorus, "Me gusta tomar mis copas, aguardientes lo mejor!..." Stopping, he lifted up his mug and the others joined in on cue, "Tambien el tequila blanco con su sal, le da sabor!..." Mugs were drained and slammed fiercely on the tables. Whooping in congratulations to the men, he continued with a rapid strumming, "Ay ay ay ay." To this the men eagerly joined. Anyone could at least shout out monosyllables. "Ay ay mi amor. Ay mi morena de mi corazòn!... Urah!" The mandolin fell silent and the cheers roared, "Bravisimo!" His face was jovial, mimicking the happy warmth that came from drinking plenty, though again he refrained from their offered cups of rum.

Finn’s arrival was heralded by the unsubtle slamming of a door above stairs, and the tramp of booted feet down the wooden staircase which led the eye inevitably to the discovery of the less than amused expression that sat upon the rugged face of the red head. “Gods’ blood..enough!” he snapped. The bark that was sent winging across the room in the general direction of the ribald chorus was more than enough to send men skittering in multiple directions, sheepish expressions on the face of most. Many of the chorus leader’s followers were members of the runner’s crew, or if not his, of Leoxander’s- and none of them cared to be on the receiving end of the displeasure of either. Gold flecked gaze narrowed slightly as they tracked the assembled brethren of the road and sea back to their various smaller groupings, before the auburn head turned Dom’s way and a single lean finger lifted to point at the olive hued male in unsubtle reprimand. “ You..are startin’ to become a pain in my arse mate. If you insist on makin’ the bastards howl at the moon, do it in common, gods sake..” he grunted, before making a turn and heading for the bar. He couldn’t be sure, but he rather thought the singing had given him a headache.

Solidad blinks rapidly as she steps into the dingy inn, having caught only the end of the song the crowd had been singing. How on earth had she managed to end up here? She'd come to Rynvale to do a bit of shopping, and now she was in a place that didn't exactly have an air of respectability about it. She glanced down at the white-striped, black wolf who had followed her. From her expression it almost seemed as if the vampiress was questioning the wolf, who was sniffing the air curiously, as to why they were in this place. Odyssia took a few steps ahead of her, clearly wanting to them stay for a bit, though Soli could hardly guess why. Soli sighs resignedly as she follows the she-wolf, who's eyes were alert and watchful of the sailors, corsairs, privateers and other men gathered in the place. She steps carefully, the sound her heeled boots made on the floor was lost in the roar of the crowd. While the form-fitting black leather she wore might have let her blend in, there were many clues that would give her away. The silver ruins stitched into her cloak, the silver bracelets jingling on her arms, the silver hoops dangling from her ears, and most of all the silver circlet she so proudly wore atop those short ebony locks, all combined with the helplessly lost expression on her face marked her as hopelessly out of place. She clung to her obsidian staff, trying to pick her way through the crowd with out bumping into anyone. There didn't seem to be any table free, so Soli made her way to the bar, doing her best to ignore the wolfish stares some of the men seemed to be giving her and taking comfort in Odyssia's presences. Doing her best not to draw attention to herself, the petite vampiress took a seat at the bar, waiting for her opportunity to ask the bartender if her served brandy.

Domastine casually remained in his seat, now alone at the table with his feet propped up comfortably. Idly he strummed the instrument with only simple chords being played. Elsewhere, the more usual low chatter could be heard around the room. "Ahh, pelirrojo, you have returned for your copas of the evenings, yes?" Olive hued eyes lowered to his strumming before following the smuggler's path towards the bar, "If it were Common, yes, it would be howling. But as it is in... hum, how did I tell the lovely Seh'rita Keturah... Ahh, yes, the Uncommon, it is singing!..." Swinging his legs so that the boots fell upon the floor, he followed towards the bar, setting the mandolin on the counter as he made a silent bid for a drink, "Did you have a pleasant siesta with your boyfriend? This... Jumper, no? I hope it ended well. It pains me so to see others in turmoil." A sidelong glance was made towards the vampiress. Her pale skin was instantly what drew attention. The High Elves were pale enough, with their ivory tones, but this woman seemed almost deathly pale. He returned his attention to Finn, already half expecting a fist to be flying at his face.

Finn was halfway through his first shot of rum when a single word of the foreigner’s musical rant caused his fingers to pause in their return action, just a hitch, before the glass was lowered carefully to the surface of the bar top. The jibe about the elf who had once been his underling was overlooked for what it was, bait- and bait that the runner had better things to do with his time than react to. Should the foreigner prove annoying enough, there were always dark alleyways and acts done in secret that would free them all of his blight. For now, Finn was more interested in something else. Auburn head shifted, an assessing whisky gaze turned upon the sailor as he settled in at the bar. “Keturah.. you’ve seen the healer.” he restated idly. It was not a question, merely an attempt to verify- granted he was most curious as to how this newly arrived foreigner might have managed to see a woman he believed long gone from the island. Further thought on the matter was disrupted however, by the arrival of another female, one who had about every eye in the room locked on her for any number of reasons. The chit was clearly out of her element, and a single sweep of the room by the runner’s hazel eyes identified with ease at least 5 of the baser sort who had already identified her for a mark. Some for the jewelry that littered her lithe body, others for her..remaining assets. Those eyes flicked toward the vampiress. “Reckon there might be better places to be lookin’ for a drink darlin’” he drawled lightly. “Don’t figure much of what we’ve got here’ll be to your taste.” His own shot of black rum was lifted to his lips for another swallow.

Solidad wasn't too worried about anything the men might try, she could old her own and was more than confidant in her body guard. So she'd been sitting at the bar, not really paying much mind to anyone except the bar tender, who she could swear was ignoring her. She was growing impatient, when the accented voice reached her hears. She had no doubt the man was addressing her, and turned, a sharp reply ready for him. Her words were cut short however when she looked at him, she wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that she might not really want to speak unkindly to this man. So she paused, taking a moment to reign in her temper. "Perhaps," she conceded in a quiet, lightly accented voice that still carried over the noise of the crowd. She glanced down at Odyssia who was stubbornly sitting with her back to the bar, eyes on the crowd. Soli sighed again. "But all I really wish is for a glass of Brandy for my self and a bowl of water to Odyssia," she gestures to the she-wolf, "and then I will more than gladly be on my way. I'm afraid I got lost."

Domastine narrowed his eyes carefully. The elf and this man were still on uneasy terms, for whatever reasons and despite whatever working relationship they had. He let the matter slide for now, as the redhead knew a mutual acquaintance. "Ahh, si. You know the Royal Healer as well, yes? She looked rather forelorn as I spoke to her on the docks of Cenril. Cenril. However the foreigner traveled, it spoke of rather rapid means of transportation to have gone to the mainland and back in what seemed mere hours, given that the two men saw each other earlier today. Looking over his other shoulder, now to Solidad, "Tut tut, pelirrojo. This taverna needs more savory and cilivized sorts, such as herself, rather than unsavory, no? Let the Seh'rita drink en paz. She does no harm to others, and I am sure if any harm should come towards her, the lady and her lobo are more than capable of handling themselves." He shrugged with feigned nonchalance, "And of course, as the resident blackjack dealer, I do not doubt your honorable intentions of intervening on her behalf should things become more inhospitable, correcto?" He finally inquired directly to the female vampire, "Where is it you wish to go once you rob us of your pleasant presence, Seh'rita?"

Finn darted a baleful look at the blasted foreigner. “The She’rita, mate..is way out of her bloody league in this joint. Which you would know, if you were frekin’ payin’ attention an’ not caterwallin’ all the year long day,” he drawled in icy undertone. “Reckon it can be forgiven, you bein’ new in town an’ all, but you’ll be figuruin’ out quick enough that the rules are a little different here.” He turned again to his drink, absorbing another swallow. “Reckon if it came to it, my lads an’ I could deal with the worst of it, but as soon as she steps out that door tonight, she’ll have a party waitin’ for her. None of her kind come here”..Not without some attempt at disguise anyways. Again, was no attempt made to bite the bait of intended insult. Finn was no dealer at the gambling hell he owned, and he had no need to preserve an impression with a lass he’d likely never see again. Broad shoulder lifted in a shrug of dismissal as he turned to the female again. “Don’t figure they’ll be havin’ brandy lass, wolf should be sorted though..” He often had the needs of his own wolves attended here. Piggy backing on the foreigner’s question, he suggested casually, “An’ wherever it is, you might be wantin’ to pay one o the lads to escort you there.” His eyes drifted the room again. “Make that two..or three..”

Solidad smiled slightly at the man who was so obviously foreign. Not five minutes into conversation and she already knew which one she liked better. She'd only just opened her mouth to reply to him when the other man spoke. She didn't like the insinuation that she and Odyssia couldn't handle themselves, but then these two didn't rightly know the truth about Odyssia, did they? The initial comments that came to mind where harsh biting reprimands. She could use that sharp tongue of hers and biting words to put these two in their place, but where was the fun in that? Instead she smiled sweetly at the two, feigning a bit of docility. Glancing around at some of the stares she was getting -did- make her a little more nervous than she liked to admit. She was confident she could take on a few and Odyssia more than that, but she wasn't sure her odds were good if there were too many of them, especially not if they crowded in on her, making it harder for her to use the fire magic she was so good at without serious risk to herself. Turning back to the other two, smile still in place, she dropped her gaze, and let a bit of her worry show. "Its very kind of you to worry about me, so." She tried to hide her smirk, and fought back a laugh. "Perhaps I should take your advice then, eh?" She glanced around and noted that there were few men around who looked trustworthy. "Perhaps you two would be so kind as to escort me home, or at least to safer area of Rynvale? I had planned to return to my home in Venturil after my trip here to Rynvale. To be honest I only came to do some shopping. I needed a new dress you see…." Her words trailed off. She didn't want to let these men think she was too dainty and frail. Though she didn't necessarily want to let them know that she was the Archmage Rheven's sireling and former student, either. So she let her words stop there, and waited patiently for an answer.

Domastine smirked faintly, almost innocently, "/Seh/rita, pelirrojo. Though I suppose you would make similar mistake between a lady, and a laddie, yes?" Glancing more closely at Odyssia, cranking back slightly, he said quietly, "And only a man that is estupido or borracho would approach. Look at the eyes. They are rabid, yes? But the wolf sits still obediantly." What he believed of the wolf was left unsaid. The tales of strange wolves were well known even to the foreigner, but he did add this, "I don't... hum, 'frekin' pay attention. I pay attention, simply. I leave this frekin' for another time, no?" Straightening back up, his olive eyes looked on at the vampiress. Just as he noticed the subtle marking of his person for Miya in the gambling parlor, he smirked faintly at the minute differences of Solidad's words. Coy, chikita. Muy coy. He politely decline, "Ahh, perdon, but as my friend here has obviously pointed out, I am... new in town. I would serve no better purpose to get us both lost, no? No, that would not do. But mi compadre here, he is well versed in this city, as he so generously warned you of the perils. He shall be your guide to where ever you wish, if he has no objections to protecting a beautiful Seh'rita such as yourself."

Finn snorted slightly, responding to Dom’s suggestion after a swallow .“Do I look like a knight in shinin’ armor mate? I’ll point her in the right direction, but I’ve got better things to do with my night than escort lost M’Lady’s around town,” he drawled, darting a quick glance the female’s direction. “No offence darlin’ but you’ll be wantin’ to do your shoppin’ while the sun’s up on the Shores. Figured somebody woulda told you.” The red head was quite firmly planted on his bar stool and showed no indicator of moving anywhere. Charm was not his strong suit, especially not when it came to the bourgeoisie with whom he preferred to have minimal dealings unless he was robbing them blind. He was not entirely heartless however, and unbeknownst to her, she would have silent watchers on her tail if and when she finally left the place-above and beyond any that she might actually hire. Glancing her way again he added. “Always the guard..useless as they can be sometimes” He referred of course, to the patrolling pair who wandered ineffectually up and down Harbor Street for most of the day and night.

Solidad sighed to herself and momentarily considered giving up her game, but she still had plenty of tricks up her sleeve. She adopted a look of almost sincere disappointment, as she removed her cloak from her shoulders, clearly not intending to leave anytime soon. This offered the men, unfortunately all of them, a better look at her slender figure. The black leather, which clung tightly to every curve, also drew attention to the unnatural alabaster color of her skin. Curving full lips into a subtly seductive smile, as the bar tender finally approached her. "I need a bowl of water, if you please, sir. And for my self…" she pauses hesitantly, before pointing at the man who was drinking." I'll have some of what he's having, please." The bar tender raised an eyebrow, but shrugged, turning to fill her order. She turned back to the two men, still smiling. Silver eyes glance over each of them, taking in their appearances for the first times since her arrival. "Very well then, I suppose I'll have to take care of myself then, eh? Shouldn't be too much of a problem for myself and Odyssia here." She shrugs lightly, not offering more information than that. "I'm Solidad d'Mor, by the way." Her name is offered almost a an afterthought, as though she was just now realizing that none of them had been introduced. "Most people just call me Soli, though."

Domastine shrugged slightly, "Chal Serah... I was most certain that you kept a set of armor that you used in that shop of yours. Pity that it was closed when I had passed by, no?" Like all men... well, most men... He was not sure about Finn, given his tiff with Lirithen. The olive skinned male did casually appreciate the view presented. His gaze fell briefly to the wolf. Odyssia. The woman, Solidad. Raising a pair of fingers to his forehead, he greeted the vampiress, "Domastine, Capitan of the Niebla Dorada." It was half a salutation and half a bragging remark to Finn, or possibly more cause for annoyance. The foreigner was a captain, and the putting two and two together, perhaps Finn would deduct that the ship was a fast one. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Seh'rita Solidad," he said with a formal dip of his head, his eyes never leaving her or the other man.

If Domastine was somehow still in doubt as to the…tastes.. of the runner, it might perhaps be clarified by the lazily appreciative gaze that drifted over the body revealed when Solidad shed her outer garments. He was actually a connoisseur of things beautiful, and currently had more than enough trouble juggling the females he already had connections with. It would be the not quite pleasant reminder of that current condition that would cause the man to tear his gold flecked gaze away from the feast for the eyes that she presented, but not before raising an auburn brow at her request to be served a black rum. “Ah, lass reckon we’d be pickin’ you up off the floor darlin.’ Not the best thing given your current situation aye?” he suggested. Turning to Simon he’d amend her request. “Give her an ale mate..island blend..” He didn’t seem to expect anything other than that the barkeep would follow through on his suggestion. Upon hearing the foreigner’s offering of his name, a lip twitched. Domastine. Hell kind of name was that? Oddly reminiscent of Dumb… He clipped the thought in progress. “Red..” he proffered Solidad. Few enough were allowed within the circle where his name was tossed around.

Solidad smiled at the two men, noting the appreciative glances. Well, if nothing else that would be its own reward for her efforts tonight. She shook her head as the man who called himself Red changed her order for her, but try as she might the barkeep would have none of her arguments. Ale it was. Soli sighed, and resigned herself to her fate. The glass was served, and to her surprise it was… palatable. Not as good as brandy, but good nonthless. "A pleasure to meet you both then, Domastine and Red." Odyssia raised her head, sniffing the air as if she smelled something curious, but did not leave the vampiress' side. "The ale is very good Mr. Red, thank you. Considering my last experience with Rum…. This is probably a better idea." Soli made a mental note to visit this inn more often, though perhaps in the daylight next time, and with a dagger or two hidden on her person. She could have a good deal of fun here, and it was certainly more interesting than Kelay. The Hanging Corpse was still her favorite of all the inns and taverns though. "I think I like this place," she said, smiling to herself. "It’s very lively here that's for sure."

Finn said to Solidad, "Just Red'll do lass. Don't reckon I've ever been Mr. in my life." The title sat on him like an ill fitting coat."

Solidad said to Finn, "Alright, Red, then. My apologies." She smiles, almost playfully."

Domastine uttered an almost inaudible sound of satisfaction. Pelirrojo had been an apt title for the redheaded one, given that the man went by its Common variant. He oddly remained quiet for the most part afterward. 'Red' now seemed loosened enough to speak, and anything said to the woman revealed a little bit more. He found it odd that nothing was said about the man's Merchantile Shop. Perhaps the man was too distracted by Solidad's unveiling. As the she-wolf reared her head, his eyes attempted to follow whatever direction was given. A blessing were animals, whether normal ones or not. They always seemed to know when something was amiss. He idly commented on the liveliness of the tavern, "Chal..., only on occassion, no? 'Red' here does not care for any other kind of liveliness than simply men cursing at one another, but I suppose that is the way of things. It must remind him of home."

Finn divested the vampiress of his attention long enough to pin Domastine with an icy stare. “I reckon I can handle a sea shanty about as much as another fellow- Doma” He would spare the foreigner the indignity of the ‘ss,’ for now. “What I can’t much handle is a bunch of drunk sailors howling gibberish in whatever the hell mewling that is you call a language. But we established this, aye?” he growled. Finn was more than aware that he had not responded to the man’s too casual reference to his store front. Some things were better left unconfirmed, especially since he didn’t have his name mounted anywhere on the place, and Domastine did not yet know his real name. In the back of his mind he made it a pint to do some investigating of his own. The runner was not entirely comfortable that one apparently without resources, was gleaning information so quickly. Granted, the shop was his legal cover and it might not be impossible that casual questioning might have given the male enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The woman’s observation, drew a twitch from the runner’s lips. “If your idea of fun is worryin’ for your self an’ possessions lass, you’re more than welcome to visit again. Might wanna wear somethin’ ..a little less conspicuous though.” He nudged his head toward her jewelry. “ Beggin’ for trouble..” he murmured. “I’d advise you head off for the night..natives are getting’ restless.” And indeed they were. As the hours passed and the alcohol flowed, the number of customers casting eyes Solidad’s way was steadily increasing. She would be well advised to take the runner’s advice.

Solidad smiled slightly, nodding. "And perhaps some more suitable clothing could be found as well." She laughed, as if it were all a joke to her. In truth, however, she was already plotting ways to better blend into the crowd. Perhaps she'd make her way into a ships crew, and sail to some other exciting places. Perhaps there she would find a new home for her people. She didn't speak these thoughts, though something of the wanderlust she was beginning to feel might be seen in her eyes. It was being so close to the sea, Rynvale reminded her too much of her long gone homeland. She blinked a bit, shaking off her thoughts for the moment. "I think I'll follow your advice this time," she nodded, adding emphasis to her words. She rose gracefully to her feet, slinging her cloak over her shoulders as Odyssia stood as well. "It was a pleasure meeting both of you. I hope to see you again sometime. Good night, Domastine. Good night, Red."

Domastine faked a laughing scoff, "Mewling, pelirrojo? That is the sound cats make, the gatitos, no? I suppose if you cannot understand singing and compare it to mewling that make you no better than a dog. A perro?" Whatever other quips that remained to be said were reigned in. The vampiress was leaving. Adopting a smile, he nodded to Solidad, "Largas noches y dias placentes... Until the next time, Seh'rita Solidad.

Finn grinned, tossing a drawled comment the foreigner’s way. “Reckon there’s worse things to be called mate,” he muttered. Eyes would turn toward the female, and she would be graced only with a nod of his head in departure. As she left, a number of figures would be seen to appear from the shadows of the taproom, another singular nod from the redhead sending them on their night’s assignment. The vampiress would make her destination unmolested-even if the sheriff of the island caught a case or two in the alleyways come morning.

Finn 's gaze tracked the woman's exit. Only when she was gone from sight would he down the last of his drink, saluting the irritating foreigner with the empty glass. "Till next time Doma..won't be soon enough I'm sure.." he murmured lazily. Sarcasm was ripe in his tone. The night was young, and full of labor yet undone. Pushing off from the bar, the male would turn on his heels, making finally for that stairwell which had introduced him to that gathering. Within moments he would disappear above stairs, leaving Domastine and his chorus to their reveling below.