RP:Nic & SiDD

Summary: Nic formerly(sorta) meets SiDD after they get into a street fight(also sorta) and SiDD gets an offer for melee training.

Intersection

You have come across a great busy intersection, many people are scurrying around in all directions their shoes producing a slightly unpleasant noise on the gray cobblestone streets. Ahead of you is obviously a tavern of some variety as you see many happy sailors staggering out obviously drunk and roughly the same number running from the harbor to get inside for a relaxing drink no doubt a good sing song. Far to the east you can see the great Rynvale shipyard and a large ship frame under construction there. To the west appears to be the shopping district.

Irenic arrives back into Runvale from the port with the usual suspects of vagrant pirates looking for a good time. It’s been about a month since he’s been looting with them and earning their trust for the Rogues. The all stumble inside and leave Irenic out in the intersection while he takes a moment in the quiet to enjoy a cigarette… Well, mostly, at least is more quiet with that obnoxious bunch inside and as if to check on something he lifts the eyepatch off his left eye to reveal a brown one and glances around. Anything giving off a magical cast will be picked up by that eye and that would be the only thing it sees for its blind otherwise, but his silver eye is his own and sees perfectly fine… Unless he reading because he’s old. He sees great far away though! So there’s that. A low griff tone seeps out in an exhausted sigh and he shuffles his booted feet over to the wall of the tavern as to lean upon it. Looking up at the round moons in the skies he starts to wonder what day it is because time seems to pass so slowly on that piece of trash these guys call a ship. A few guys stumble on out being boisterous and looking to start something with someone, anyone. They look at Irenic, tawny, tall… Like ‘holy shyte tall’ and scarred up… No, not that guy. Irenic fixes the brawlers with a smirk waiting to see if they’ll try him.

Sidd pops into view as he makes his way westward toward the Broken Barrel; Head decorated with liberty spikes bobbing and thrashing from side to side as some sort of mental tune played in his head. He wore a typical sleeveless black shirt, and his trusty battered old boots, but in place of his ratty pants he wore a pair of black home fashioned shorts that hung just below the knee. He carried no backpack today, nor did he have his newly acquired instrument. Instead, the only thing in his possession, was that familiar and best friend of his- A club-like branch. Wasn't the greatest protection, but it worked. The small gathering out front of the Barrel caused Sidd to finally look up and pay attention, the rowdy crew catching his attention first, before his gaze settles on the tall man against the wall. He made attempt to pay no mind, offering a bit of a nod as he made his approach for the Inn's door.

Irenic saw the maverick of a guy making his way towards the group and something about him struck Irenic as familiar… In a way. Was that guy homeless? He was at one point right? He vaguely remembered a woman in a red dress giving him a hard slap and… That’s right. Opting to continue smoking the cigarette he gives a lazy nod back to Sidd, but the guy had caught the attention of the ones looking for a fight. The three of them start calling out names and insults of the guy’s attire, the hair and ratty looking clothes. A scoff from Irenic is heard and maybe even the start of a chuckle catches one of the more… round guy’s attention, “what’re yooou laughin’ at!? Twig?” Irenic shrugs with a sarcastically surprised blink, “the fact you think insulting clothes on an island populated by pirates is going to get anywhere, your fat face,” he brings up a tattooed hand to start counting with his cigarette dangling between scarred lips, “your corny ass accent, or your mama's head game.” A drag of his cigarette when he pushes off the wall to stalk nearer to the three asshats. When he lets out the smoke it billows into the face of the man, “you pick.” One of the guy’s goes all rogue and starts swinging wildly at Sidd while fatty and muscle head tries to double up on Irenic.

Sidd was no stranger to drunken blowhards mouthing off about his appearance. He's dealt with those dumb hyena jock types all his life. His upper lip curls, a grin started, and before he could return insult, he's cut off by Irenic. It was at this point that the human finally recognized the guy from his first expedition into this strange new world. When Irenic's words fell from his lips, Sidd laughs out loud and mocks the three 'asshats'. "OH SNAP! WHAT NOW PU-" he began, only to be quickly silenced by the first of the three instigators. it was almost slow motion. Sidd saw that fist coming, but he just couldn't get out of the way in time. Knuckles dusted across his cheek, eye socket taking ending blow, and he turned in the direction of the punch , dropping his weapon in the process. When another blow landed atop his skull, the human quickly reacted, lurching forward to wrap his arms around his assailant's waist and pushing with all of his might to slam the guy against the Inn's wall. Here, he would try to throw punches into the guy's ribs, while the drunken jackass hammered on him from above- Sidd half-wondering if he could drop this guy fast enough to help irenic out of a bad two on one situation.

Irenic is fine. Once out of the shadows the two guys knew this was a mistake because one, he’s an avian and two he wears loose clothing over a brick wall (might as well be) because fatty tried a couple of power punches at the man’s abdomen. “Ow…” Irenic mumbled out boredly before the conman gripped the collar of fatty’s shirt and easily lifted him up to his height, lifting him about a foot off the ground where Irenic’s cigarette had dropped. Muscle head seems to be a bit of a coward and already is sprinting away from the fight. It’s unclear what Irenic was saying to the man in the small chaos, but he was trembling in the avians grasp and near peeing his pants. Irenic glances down before a look of disgust layers his expression when he drops the guy, okay so not near pees his pants - actually pees his pants. A whimpering, “Carl!?” Looking at the pair still in a scuffle, “let’s git!” The fatty struggles getting up especially when Irenic places a boot on the guy’s backside and pushes him back down when he walked around him in order to reach ‘carl’ with a grin. “Oh, caaarl,” it is probably not a good thing Irenic knows this guy’s name and he yanks the guy by the back of his neck up and off Sidd. Hurling him away and toppling over the other guy once more. If Sidd had gotten knocked to his ass during this scuffle a tawny tattooed hand of Irenic’s would extend down to him in offer to help him up. Mischief in that silver eye and his smirk exposing white, but slightly crowded teeth, “watch this…” Although the privilege of wings had been ripped from Irenic he could still leap… Like, far and that’s what he did. Leaped the distance from Sidd to the pair and then up in the air with one in hand. Irenic apparently likes dropping people at that height and one of them definitely suffers a broken arm or leg before tucking their tails and running. Even though fatty dropped from the air like a sack of potatoes Irenic sort of floated or glides down near Sidd. “You ok?”

Sidd had gotten hoisted by his midsection and floored face first into the hard ground below. His ribs were in the midst of a pummeling when irenic stepped in and separated the two. There was swelling already starting in the human's left eye, his lip busted open from the fall, and nose a bit bloodied. He accepted Irenic's hand and rose to his feet, the bottom of his shirt used as a makeshift rag to soak up that blood and wipe it away. When Irenic leaped at the rowdy trouble makers, Sidd seemed pretty surprised. That was a pretty far distance to cover for someone to jump; There was no mistaking that this guy wasn't human. The second aerial maneuver and the dropping of one of the assailants caused Sidd to laugh out loud, calling out as the pair took off and run, "YEAH! THAT'S RIGHT! RUN! DON'T COME BACK EITHER!" Always a big mouth when the odds were in his favor. The human picked up his stick, an uplifted nod sent to Irenic when the avian asked if he was alright. "Yeah, I'm good, man. Hah, thanks. Knew you looked familiar- Second time you've bailed my ass out of a crappy situation. I owe ya." Sidd snorted deeply and hocked a bloody loogie out onto the street.

Irenic chuckled short and dark at Sidd’s retorts, “are you begging for them to come back?” A shrug, “I would have easily let you fight it out with your,” he glances to Sidds weapon, “large stick, had it been just the one guy, but jumping someone.” A roll of his eyes (eye?), “that’s just tacky.” Another smirk shown down at the stranger, “even then I might have had to jump in. Where were you gonna get with this move?” He mocks something Sidd tried to pull during the fight and Sidd might take note that how does a dude with one eye see that and fend off assailants at the same time. Another short low chuckle to prove he was just busting his balls, “you’ve got guts though.” His gaze raised to one of the spikes nearly taking out his one good eye, “might’ve made more headway with one of these spikes.” If he were allowed he’d reach a fingertip out and test the pointiness of a spike just to see how sharp it is. That might be odd for a stranger to do to another with the whole personal space thing, but Irenic never cared about that crap. A hand pats Sidd on the back allowing his hand to rest on his shoulder, “let’s get you a drink. Some ice and let the pirates laugh at that shiner.”

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.

Sidd shrugs, a bit of a chuckle let out as he says, "They're always brave when they've got numbers. I doubt they'll be back though, not with jumpy mcgiant over here possibly being around." A thumb was aimed at Irenic, a wink falling in a jesting manner. When his skill was teased, the human couldn't help but grin, palms face up with a 'no idea' sort of gesture. "Man that move has saved me a few times! Just... not this time, apparently." He reached up and touched his lip, a bit of fresh blood still oozing out. Irenic's touch would find that Sidd's hair was just in fact hair with a little rigidity than any sort of weapon. Another laugh escapes the human as he uses his boot to push open the door, leading the way into the Barrel. "YO. Simoooooon. Whiskey bottle. Glasses. Ice. Please, and spank you!" Finding an empty table, Sidd pulls out a chair and seats himself, asking, "So uh, two questions, man: First how the hell you jump so high? I mean, you ain't human, right? And second, lose a bar fight?" The lattermost question was accompanied by a stare and a nod toward that eyepatch on Irenic's face.

Irenic followed and then found himself guffawing at this guy’s unusual way of speaking. It’s been awhile since he’s used that laugh muscle and that’s saying a lot. “On me Simon,” this gets quite the questionable look from the barkeep, “oh yeah. You need it up front now.” He tossed over a small leather pouch for gold, “make it two bottles.” Irenic took one of the chairs opposite Sidd, turned it away from the table to rest the back of it upon the edge of the table and sat himself straddling the seat with his tattooed forearms dangling over the back of the chair. “Nope, not human. Avian, but I guess without the wings I’d be considered a damned avian.” Sidd could probably smell his favorite scent coming off the avian, but spending so much time on a boat with other unkempt men probably cancels it out for now. “If I try hard enough I can jump pretty high or far and sort of glide back down,” a shrug, “nothing like flying though.” He slips the eye patch off to reveal a deep chocolate brown eye underneath and it seemed sort of out of place, “this?” Mismatched gaze sets on Sidd, “some broad switched eyes with me.” That sounded way cooler than what actually happened, but by this time the pirates he was traveling with meandered over in their drunken stupor, “hey bastards!” They obnoxiously retort and laugh with Irenic, “bastards meet, …” he grins, looking dangerous for a moment as if no emotion could soften such a hard lived face, “I never did get your name.”

Sidd had all intentions of paying, but Irenic was a quick one! Ah well, more gold for his pockets, he thought. "Gnarly." the human commented when Irenic revealed his race. Third Avian he's met! Though, this guy sure as hell wasn't like the last two. Simon finally made his way over with the drinks, the mohawked man wasting no time uncorking a bottle and filling both glasses. After a good gulp, Sidd removed his bandana and took a bit of ice from the bucket and wrapped it with the piece of fabric, turning it into a makeshift ice pack, which was used to nurse his newfound battlescar. His glass lifted and the human silently toasted the avian. When the subject of the eye came into play, Sidd looked at the guy with an expression of sound disbelief. "What? Switched eyes? How the-" He was cut off by those newcomers. Two fingers tapped the side of his head in salute to the 'bastards', "Yo. I'm Sidd." he answered both in greeting and reply to Irenic. "Nice to meetcha."

Irenic watches as the pirates take in Sidd’s appearance like he was some animal in a zoo, is he one of them? Is he something else? One of the pirates points at the ice pack he just made himself and asks, “hmya ndt da fur?” Another pirate pointed at the spiky hairdo, “yah, n’ wassat fir?” Irenic shook his head, “What guttermouth asked was, ‘what do you need that for’?” he points to the ice pack as well. “Welm ee curd finna hlmr zy,” Irenic narrows his mismatched gaze at guttermouth while gulping some of his whisky down like water, “not drunk enough to understand that one, guttermouth.” He slipped a fresh cigarette from the tucked away place on one of those long pointy ears and the smoke caresses its way up his rough features. “Back up will ya?” Irenic’s voice easily carries over their debates on Sidd and they abide for a moment, “he just had a bit of a tousle outside just now. That’s all,” the group hoots and hollers while one asks Sidd, “yew show ‘em wutzz wut?!” Irenic leans in on his chair and his improper sitting on it, “yeah, Sidd, you show em?” He was curious what he would even say.

Sidd was in the middle of taking a drink when his brow lofted in a manner that spoke, 'What the hell'? Thick drunken-ass speak, it was something he ought to be used to by now. Thankfully, Irenic was there to back him up again. First he addressed the curiosity regarding his hair. "Ah this?" he points, "Cuz I rock. Latest fashion, eh? This style is that style when ya just don't give a damn about anyone or what they think. When you're your own man, livin' life as you see fit, doin' what you wanna do. That's what this is." A stern nod and a grin, his chance now to jump on that brawling explanation. "Hell yeah I- No,wait, Hell yeah, WE did." he motions to Irenic. "This dude's a badass. You ever get in a scrap, you'll want'em on your side, man. Real homie." Sidd then extends his arm over to Irenic and makes a fist, "Bump it, brosef." It was a peculiar gesture, one Sidd wasn't even sure the avian would pick up on, but old habits were just so hard to break.

Irenic’s scarred brow quirks up when Sidd didn’t take all the credit and that’s cool in his book. As far as arrogant avians go, Irenic used to be the biggest prick you’d meet, probably still kind of is, but he’s sort of evened out over the course of the past couple years. That being said, or not (this writer kind of sucks today) he takes note of when he meets someone who’s not a take-all-the-credit-type-douche. The pirates around them boisterously agree and one pirate even goes as far to mention, “ya! Nic ‘ere even taught guttermouth ‘ow ta scrap! Fer da price ‘o ‘is tongue acourse!” They all laugh obnoxiously and it was a joke, but for real - guttermouth sounds like that because he has no tongue. Irenic leans over the back of his chair to inspect Sidd’s hand. ‘Bump it?’ Is he offering him drugs? Irenic holds his hand out under Sidd’s as if waiting for him to drop something, but once he realizes that doesn’t yield any results he clues in. Bumps him with his own fist after looking like a total dope. “Well met Sidd. I’m,” he glances toward his company, remembering he’s undercover, “Nic, that’s guttermouth,” he points to tongueless before introducing the rest, “clump, nads, hobknocker -“ (a many more hilarious names) He continues on, “you should have seen this guy out there. Wild.” After more laughing dies down, “where did you get your training?” It was a serious question.

Sidd nods his head in approval when Irenic finally figures out what to do. He knew it wasn't a common thing around these parts- It was his chance to be a trend setter! "Nice to meet ya, all of you." he replies to Irenic and his piratey companions. The makeshift ice pack is set upon the table, a bit of discoloration already setting in around his eye.The human lifts his drink to his lips,taking this moment to pry over their individual features so that he could try and place names to faces should they ever meet again. When jovial turned serious, Sidd lifted his shoulder in a bit of a shrug. "Training? None, really. Mostly just life experience, y'know? A few punches to the head, you kinda just learn to scrap out of necessity. HAH." He leans back with drink still in hand, a couple of ice cubes dropped in. "I'm alright in a street fight, I guess. Anything more and I'm probably useless as hell. Why I carry that stick." A quick motion to the branch lying beside the table. "I figure a good whack in the side of the head and whatever's buggin' me will piss off."

Irenic spots a group of women entering and nods over their direction which was the pirates queue to look, but once they did they started catcalling them and making their way to the table with the loose women. This gives Sidd a moment to breathe and Irenic focuses on his own cigarette, taking a few drags before looking back at Sidd, “do you get into a lot of fights out there?” The low gruff timbre of the tall avian resonates in the air between them and his expression seems to have changed entirely. Instead of some rowdy mongrel pirate he gives off a more intelligent fatherly vibe - someone that can change himself as if a chameleon and anyone could deduce that Irenic might be one dangerous friend to have. “What would you be left with if someone grabbed your…” lone silver eye drifts over to the stick on the floor, “weapon?” Irenic is not one of those judgey types, but he does assess people and assume their abilities. He sees this as a guy on the go and in need of something compact, something concealed. “Ever think about purchasing brass knuckles? In case all else,” another glance down at the stick on the floor, “fails.” He gulps some more whisky down before sending some cigarette smoke off to the side - not wanting to blow it in Sidd’s face.

Sidd snorted as the rowdy band took off in favour of a little tail, a slight shift in posture when he comments, "Interesting bunch." Tucking a hand into his pocket, the human pulls out a metal tin that is promptly opened to reveal his own stash of smokes. A box of matches comes out next and one is lit, the flame used to kindle a cherry for the cigarette to burn. Upon a drawn out exhale he looks to Irenic with a smirk. "Well. I try not to, but it happens more than it should, yeah." A shrug of indifference, eyes moving in unison with the avian's. "Dunno, dude. Punch stuff even harder? Hah. That or run like a bitch." There's a small chuckle to the idea, the next point of the conversation taken into a deeper contemplation. "Y'know Nic, that's a damned good idea dude. I didn't even know knuckles were a thing around here. Given that there are a lot of tough dudes like yourself around, a little extra oomph might be rad." The cherry of his cigarette brightens with intake, exhale preceding an addendum, "Anyway the stick' s only temporary. Looking for a blacksmith around here. I got a design I want made up. Something more permanent and solid."

Irenic took a moment to take in his peculiar way of speaking and he sort of wondered if people had this much trouble understanding him when he was forced to speak Veretian. When he’s called a tough dude Irenic only smirks because he actually attempts to avoid fighting if it can be helped and he’s found threats work wonders. His own cigarette is almost burnt out and he lets it just slowly die between his fingers, “oh yeah? May I ask what?” He inquired about the weapon Sidd’s speaking of, “and how are you going to carry it around? Weapons are great, when you plan on a fight, but… Maybe a guy like you should get someone to train you?” He attempts to say this last question in a way that conveys gentle advice and not in any way putting him down. “I didn’t steal that lady’s necklace and give it to you to go die now,” another mischievous smirk bringing up when they met in Larket.

Sidd ashed his cigarette as he thought about how to explain the weapon to the avian, as the way he would normally describe it would probably be slightly confusing. Keep it simple stupid, he would tell himself. "Well, it's like a club, I guess. Wooden. Maybe metal if I can swing it. A battle club? Rounded. Some sort of grip at the end to keep it from slipping out of my hand. I'm not the stabby stabby kind of dude, y'know? I'd sooner break an ankle and leave it at that when necessary, but have the option to kill is it's super absolutely necessary. Hah. Was thinking about on the end, one of those ball things like you'd see at the end of a sword. Only it would be a fist with the middle finger lifted. You know, so that people know that this was MY weapon." There's a laugh as he thinks about it. Not only would be a good, solid weapon for melee, but he could use it for a lot of other things too. "I dunno." he then replied. "I imagine I'd get some sort of uh, whatcha call it. Sheathe? Something I can strap to my back, I guess." Another drag was stolen from his cigarette, lips twisted in thought. "Training? Huh. Yeah, that might be a good avenue to look into, man. Probably could use some if I wanna survive, here. THis place is pretty wild." Sidd laughs at irenic's last words, a bit of a nod in acknowledgement. "Haha yeah dude, thanks for that by the way. Helped me out big time. I can pay ya back, if ya like."

Irenic listens while drinking down more whiskey and nodding along to the idea, even getting a short low chuckle at the middle finger part. “Not too complicated. I like it.” Not personally something he would use because… well… Irenic is a menace. At the mention of paying it back Irenic shakes his head, “no need for that. In a way you did me a favor. That dame came back to my room later that night to look for the necklace, but I didn’t have it and she was so apologetic for accusing me, that we…” he winks with that devilish smirk, “so I guess in a way. I owe you!” He glances back at the women giggling and dancing around with the pirates, “I tell you what. We are docked here for a few days and during which I’ll show you how to scrap… Like street smart stuff,” his mismatched gaze falls to the exit, “and if you’ll excuse me… I’ve got a different dame to meet.” He stands up, “nice to meet you Sidd. See you tomorrow.” He leaves coin on the table for a tip and slips out unnoticed by the pirates he arrived with.

Sidd nearly spit out his drink when irenic let loose his admission, but managed to swallow without too much of an incident. "That's pretty damn sly, man. Haha. You're, welcome?" He wiped at his lip, the whiskey upon open wound was stinging just a tad; Why hadn't he just ordered beer? Still he remained in good spirits, as it wouldn't even matter in a little while when he was too drunk to even give a damn. The offer was met with a nod and a bit of excitement in his voice. "What? Seriously? Awesome! Yeah, I'm totally down for that. I'll be here, or over at the u, construction site just east of here in the residential area. Can't miss it." Sidd's chair slides out as Irenic rises, using the distance to swing his legs up onto the table and lean back in his chair as he called out in reply, "Yeah dude! Nice to meet you too! Catch ya around!" He offers up two fingers in the shape of a 'V' before reaching up to scratch his face. Stupid mistake, as he was hit with a wave of pain from touching the side of his eye socket. "Sunuvabish!" he cried out, once again lifting the ice pack and placing it to the side of his head.