RP:Sushi

Part of the Two If By Sea Arc

Summary: Sargaso finds Brogan at The Broken Barrel Inn to hook her up with a fugu salesman in the black market. They walk to the pirate cove where Brogan negotiates a better deal and Sargaso gets his cut. On the way back to Port Rynvale, they walk along the shoreto avoid run-ins with thieves, but get a worse encounter than that when they chance upon a 'woman' wash ashored. They go to help the woman, but soon realize their mistake. It's the mermaid Aptera, and she's hungry! Brogan and Sargaso escape separately, and the fisherman sports a gash across his stomach as a souvenir.

Broken Barrel Inn

Sargaso steps into the Barrel on a mission to find an elf cook and sell her over-priced poison fish. Last time he was here he started a pub brawl, attacked strangers (for noble reasons, honest), and helped a criminal escape the law. Today it is with some wariness that he enters, looking both ways before crossing the wrong peeps for a second time in one month. His luck is finite, after all.

Brogan had just exited the ladies, luckily this time for natural reasons over someone vomiting over her legs. Making a bee line for the bar for a desperate top off of Earl Grey, hitting it hard today for some reason. Sargaso is not seen in her quest to get a cuppa but alas, a sailor with a tray of pints almost backs into her and she has to semi waltz around him to try to avoid. Unfortunately she lacks the grace of her kind and her attempt to avoid this collision seems to put her on a path to back straight into the fisherman and likely injure his toes with the heels of her boot. Will he be lucky and avoid or is now the time for his stock of luck to be dry as a desert?

Sargaso hisses against the back of his teeth in pain as Brogan steps on his toes. “For Selene’s sake,” he mutters as he flexes and unflexes his toes inside his soft shoes. During the collision Brogan also backed her butt against his crotch, further complicating the tone of his response. Conflicting reactions twist his face into an inscrutable expression. “Hey.” One final grimace and he’s ready to reassume his natural cool. “I was looking for you. My guy’s in town if you want to…” She can assume the rest of his sentence. Fugu isn’t contraband, but its rarity and worth makes it ill-advised to speak of its location openly in dive bars like this.

Brogan is no Kim Kardashian to put it politely so chances are the poor man got a face full of hair too. Spinning around to initially flash an apologetic smile until she sees who it is. A few choice and censored words are thought as she backs away to a place that is of a less invasive space between them, expression painfully frozen on. Vowel elongated with a "Heeey." as she recognises the man. So imagination running miles ahead of sense which causes her to blurt out the worst reason to delay the purchase "He has them already? Oh gosh, any chance of him preserving them? I am not sure if I have the cash for them, I have this appointment later with the doctors, I have this unfortunate rash and I don't know what the bill will be." Oh brilliant, well done Brogan for that implication.

Sargaso would probably have been less conflicted in his reaction if she were more Kim Kardashian. However mention of her mysterious rash would have deflated any illusions, Kim K bod or not. “No chance he can hold onto them. We can go meet with him and if your captain has good credit to their name round these parts, maybe you can get a payment plan or pay with an IOU and deposit. That’s it.” He shrugs. “Might as well meet with him. See what happens.” Sargaso is eager to make this sale too. He gets a fat cut.

Brogan with lips pursed into a fine line, swallows nervously. Her job security is pretty much nil given her history with the crew, it is quite lucky she isn't unemployed already and of course her temper has cooled since the order. So stuck with a hard choice of fessing up which is pretty much struck off as an option immediately or trying to blag her way through, she naturally goes with the later. A nod, transparently reluctant and forcing a smile back on "Well let's see if Captain Monroe can get credit." After all why not attach debt to her boss, likelihood is that accountancy is not her forte so it could just be signed off, right?

Sargaso has never heard of Captain Monroe, but nods as though sure this Captain has enough pull to get Brogan the fugu on credit. “Alright, let’s go.” He gives her a chance to gather her things and pay any outstanding bills, then leads her towards the pirate cove out west in the harbor. On the way, he asks about her crew. How long has Monroe’s crew been together? What’s the name of the ship? etc.

Brogan braces herself for what could be a traumatisingly embarassing moment that looms ahead, probably being denied credit by a fisherman is likely to have the same connotations as when your plastic rejects. Mental prayers to any gods of Fugu tabs that are feeling generous, she makes a poor conversational partner due to her distracted thoughts, simple one word answers, brief, to the point and informative, no return questions back, she is hardly riveting at the moment. (Ooc: Also the ship name is yet to be decided or so the last update was) So trying to come up with emergency back up plans, she recalls Blair's words about using her womanly wiles. If she has any they are probably as effective as a chocolate teapot, let's hope if they are needed then Sargaso's contact is a half blind, half deaf man with little to nil wit about him, she might have a chance then. So upon the harbour they go, a glance here and there to the people that drift by with their nets of fish, crabs and crates of beer. "So where is he?"

Pirate Hideout

Sargaso leads Brogan to a pirate hide-out and grimy watering hole. "Don't worry. No one's going to mess with you." He assumes this is her first time here, perhaps a bit misogynistically; and further assumes she is scared and in need of reassurance, definitely a gender-based assumption. There are plenty of women present, though the type described as the "wrong" sort by people higher up the class ladder. In the cellar there is an aged feline, thin and reeking of fish. He eyes Sargaso and the presumed buyer. "I got five. Sargaso tell you the price? 200 gold per puffer. Says you want all five."

Brogan arches a brow, at this reassurance of safety in this place. People only seem to say anything of the sort when there normally is something to worry about so she might not have been on edge prior but now she was. Luckily lacking in any psychic powers or anything of this ilk, she is ignorant to his thoughts and beliefs so he is not challenged with the arguements of equality. He receives a simple "Hrmph. Thanks." Lifting a hand as if she was about to offer a shake but half way through the motion, thinks better of it, something about this person means perhaps she does not want physical contact with them. So continuing the motion up, she instead lifts her hand up and brings it behind her head to give a scratch to the hair under her ponytail. A muffled cough to hide the surprise at the price, she knew they were pricey buggers but that much....wow. So nose wrinkled as she calculates exactly how long it would take her to pay off that debt...yet then again, a certain Captain had wanted her to dally more in the art of poisons. So lo and behold, rather than attempt a dangerous game of sushi, she can legitimately use these for 'work', helllooooo expense account. "Two hundred gold per a fish? No, he didn't tell me that much." A sideways narrowed eye look that is a hybrid between a glance and a glare at Sargaso before she flashes a smile back to the seller as she attempts to negotiate. "Let's cut the crap, what is your best price?"

Sargaso keeps his stare trained on the feline and avoids the hell out of that sidelong glare. Prices in illegal markets are, uh, "fluid". The feline, named Mr. Whiskers (Montgomery Whiskers, but only his friend [singular] calls him Monty), narrows his eyes on Brogan. His slivered pupils dilate wide and claws protract and retract against a wooden support beam. He says, "160."

Brogan is female, as already pointed out, however in situations like this it is not a weakness. Women kind are famed for their ability to shop without tiring, finding sales and somehow having the money to spend it and it all be ok because it is a bargain. So with the quick mathematical mind that only exists in purchasing goods, she is quick to see this is a buy four and get the fifth one free sort of deal. Free, the magic word! Oh she loves thay word, she could write odes to the word free. A sharp nod and folding her arms in front of her chest, she agrees. This time twisting Sargaso's words from a maybe to seem like a concrete agreement as she speaks to good Ol' Mr Whiskers "He said you would put it as as account against my Captain."

Sargaso snorts at Brogan's audacity. He admires it, gets it, but no. "No." He gives Brogan as exasperated look then says to the smuggler, "She's getting it twisted, Mr. Whiskers." Despite addressing the feline by that name, Sargaso does not laugh, somehow. Magic? "Though, perhaps her idea isn't a bad one. Captain Monroe. You heard of her? Good reputation." Never met him/her. "Good for the coin." He hopes/doesn't care. Sargaso gets paid his meager cut up front. That was the deal. The fisherman agreed to a lower percentage in exchange for upfront gold. Perhaps he had a hunch Brogan's mouth was wider than her wallet.

Brogan lacks the ability to reign in her amusement of the name. She makes this strange sound as if she were a donkey sneezing, very attractive and elegant of course. Morphing it into more of a cough, hand covering her mouth she mutters an apologetic lie "Sorry, allergies." However due to her amusement she finds that it is perfectly apt to attempt to be punny, subtle so in a bid to get away with it "She is good for the money, I can assure you. I just don't have the cash on me at the mew-ment but I shall send her down here to settle up once she has attended her other appointments. She has this rash that she is getting sorted out." Honestly, can Brogan think of no other excuses bar rashes? That seems to be her go to cover for everything, then again no one ever questions it so it is a good one to default to. Mr Whiskers seems content enough, paper work started to take the details of the person who is shouldering the debt and another glance to Sargaso for reassurance that this is not going to go sour.

Secret Cove

Sargaso glances at Brogan through his periphery and says deadpan, "Yea I hear that's catching." He nods his assurance to Mr. Whiskers. The smuggler purrs as he draws up the receipts. He asks Brogan to make her mark on the final paper, then leads both Brogan and Sargaso through a short tunnel to a cellar door that surfaces outside the pirate pub closer to the beach. Mr. Whiskers pads down the rocky shoreline to a small boat tucked alongside a crumbling quay. A younger, more muscular feline stands sentry. If Brogan makes eye contact with him, he hisses. The quay and boat smell recently sprayed, if you know what I mean. Mr. Whiskers opens a wooden crate lined with oilcloth. Inside the crate is heavily salted fugu to preserve the meat. "Caught today," he says. They're the tiniest fugu you ever did see.

Brogan follows, mind flitting back to the numerous horror books she has read as they walk through the tunnel. She knows her chances if this was to pan out, Mr Whiskers is obviously the murderer, Sargaso is a man and they always die and she as a female is bound to be the sole survivor. So mental reassurance and the tunnel journey short and brief, it seems this has not panned out like one of those books. A look to the sentry, hissed at and a quiet "woof" back as the goods are brought out. Leaning forward to inspect the fish, they might be the tiniest fugu fish she ever has seen but they are also are the biggest fugu fish she ever did see for they are the first. So putting on an air of a person who knows what she is doing, when she does not, she nods firmly, after all the deal is done and all signed away regardless. "They will do." They will have to. "Can you pack them up for me? "

Once again he doesn't sense her discomfort so much as assume woman are terrified of dank tunnels. He mumbles similar reassurances as Mr. Whiskers, murderer for sure, leads the way. "He's legit." As legit as a smuggler can be. Point of contention: If this were a horror movie, Sargaso is the handsome protagonist who avenges Brogan in the third act after her death in the first act. Her bloody, bloody, death. Mr. Whiskers purrs as he wraps the fish in wax paper and loads them into a paper bag. Sargaso takes a few steps towards the shore and stares at the calm waters. He has to wait for Brogan to escort her back to the Broken Barrel Inn, what with her being a woman and all. Mr. Whiskers henchman approaches Sargaso and pays him his cut. When the cook's business concludes, Sargaso says, "Let's go along the shore. Don't want to risk going through the hide-out." He let's her draw the conclusion that Sargaso is worried about, well, pirates, in the pirate cove.

Along the Shore

Brogan would have been sole survivor damn it and Sargaso's head is the one decapitated but yet there is another woman being brought into the midst! Alas, Brogan is a gonner for sure if this tale takes a twist down to horror. Bag of stinky fish, soon to become her unshiftable perfume for the day as she marinates in the smell. Happy to walk along the shore line to get some air at least, assuming Sargaso is along for the ride because he is a lonely man who has nothing better to do. The harbour a wee way away but visible enough she nods to one ship with a point "That is the ship I work on, though the crew abandon it pretty much any time we dock."

Aptera watched the boat bob above the water, more interested in the people on board than the felines. Cats…were too furry to eat, truly. Instead, luck granted her two tasty looking human like creatures padding along the shore. Her shore. Shore-ly (yes, a pun to be pronounced surely) they would understand if she popped up and invited them to dinner. Charting there course, she threw herself up against the sandy rocks of the beach, looking all disheveled and in distress, a low hum on her lips to tangle with their subconscious. The fish they carried were of little note. Fish were common in the ocean (obvs). Her siren song, if effective, would tug at their sympathies and lead them to check on her. If not, well, they probably wouldn’t note too much of a difference, until her claws were in their stomachs. As she laid in wait, she sincerely wished for a bloody mess with the inner joy akin to a normal child getting a new puppy.

Sargaso is used to the smell of fish and hardly notices the odor. He squints at the ship in the distance. "How big is her crew?" Sargaso spots Aptera on the shore several yards ahead. Her tail is hidden in the water, and her song is seductive enough to penetrate the defenses of even a mermaid-hating paladin. Still, his wariness makes his enchantment weaker than it would be on those predisposed to fantasize about mermaids. Enchanted, he interrupts Brogan to say "You see that? Could be a survivor of a sunken ship. Come on." He jogs towards Aptera and calls when he's two arms-length away, "Hey! You alright?"

The elf's mouth bobs like a fish, lips moving no sound, ready to answer but he is off dashing to save a maiden in distress, the distance weakens the effect of the sound and Brogan grumbles "Or she is just a drunk." But she duly follows regardless, each step closer and her beliefs that the lady of the sea is just a hung over woman soon disappear. Sargaso has asked the question so she doesn't have to but she awaits the answer with an uncharacteristic interest in the well being of the flopped woman.

Aptera smirked internally, lifting her sand smudged face and spitting out unreasonable amounts of seawater while she feigned to gasp for breath. Her frantic eyes glance over her soon to be meal (table for two!) while she continued her humming with her second set of vocal chords. The coughing continues in an effort to draw one (or both!) of them closer within reach. The only thing that –might- save Sargaso at this point is to recognize her from the worst part ever, in which his fisherman friend was devoured and thus sparking his hatred of the mermaid kind. But if he was this close already, and falling under the hypnotic spell of her charms, then he might just think of her as another girl he met in bar. To secure the illusion, she tucks her tail deep into the sand and out of sight. “H-help…” she whispers between coughing fits before flopping very dramatically back down on to the sand to wait.

Sargaso's hatred of mermaid kind predated Lorca's death, you foul fish, but that's neither here nor there. What is here is Sargaso's fuzzy memory and Aptera's alluring song. He was drunk the night Lorca died. He would have died too if it wasn't for Ansel and Hudson. Yet Aptera's face does tug on his memory, though he can't place her. Suddenly something more potent than memory kicks in: his training. He's trained himself to be suspicious of women stranded on the beach, only visible from the hips up. Her song combats with that training. Surely it's a coincidence. Surely this is a normal woman in need of rescuing. Look at her. She needs him, the song sings in debate with his training which mostly just shouts 'Beware! Beware! Beware!' Still beyond Aptera's reach, he turns around to face Brogan and unsheaths a diving knife from a holster at his hips. "Keep your distance," he whispers. "Could be a mermaid." He glances over his shoulder, seduced by the song and curvaceous woman, then modifies his warning to Brogan. "Probably not, though." He approaches Aptera knife in hand, but not held offensively. It hangs slack from his fingertips. No need to alarm the pretty lady. The knife is just insurance. Or maybe a rescue tool. "Can I pull you out of the water? Does anything hurt?"

Brogan stares at the woman as physically moves closer, being drawn emotionally to her as well. Not knowing it is the song that causes her to feel the way she does, she blames it on other factors. Simple as, the elf decides that it must be a girl crush. Women naturally have their girl crushes, normally people of fame and great looks but Brogan seems to have found her's here on the beach, lying down and....no legs (and tail hidden in the sand), she must be an amputee, naturally. Who would have thought? Of course in this moment of magical infatuation, she dismisses Sargaso's warning instantly. Damn though, there he is sauntering ahead to save her. What if this new love of her life has a damsel in distress complex and falls for those who help her? Hell no. The elf cook quickly jogs the rest of the distance to catch up, stopping when next to Sargaso and promptly tries to hip check him out of the way as she claims "I got this." Looking down at the mermaid smiling coyly with a blush on her cheeks, twirling her hair with her finger in the most awkward and obvious of fashions "Heeeeey, do you come here often?"

Aptera didn't know anything about the paladin's personal life! All that mattered was that he was in reach...and, Sea Goddess Almighty, so was the delish looking elf woman!! If she'd had legs, a song and dance might have been appropriate. Instead...Aptera's tail slides silently out of the sand to give her muscular body the proper leverage to latch on to her prey. If she angled it -just- right, she might be able to get both of them in the stomach with her claws and then it was basically a waiting game. Lull them to sleep with her siren's song and eat like a queen for a couple days! Drag the heads down, brag to all the other mermaids. Typical stuff. She locks eyes with Brogan, who has so thoughtlessly pushed Sargaso a little more out of reach. Oh well. Aptera grinned in the most seductive fashion she could imagine before attempting to pounce on Brogan with relatively impressive speed, considering she was mostly land locked. "No..." she whispered in a coy fashion, "But we should get dinner sometime..." With that, the pounce occurs, one arm attempting to wrap around Brogan and draw her against the mermaid's torso while the other swings wide to try and split Sargaso's stomach wide open. Guts Everywhere, that type of thing. Her teeth gnash at the open air, a mild celebration before there was even cause TO celebrate.

Sargaso grunts at Brogan's hip check. However, upon further review of Brogan's flirting, his mood changes to one of hope that this could be the day of plenty, the day he gets his threesome. Unfortunately, his high hopes are short lived when Aptera's torso wiggles in the sand. Sexy, but creepy. Humans don't move that way. His horror at this uncanny valley punctures through his enchantment and he finally realizes what they're dealing with here. It's a second too late as Aptera pounces on Brogan and swipes at the paladin. He jumps back onto his right foot and turns sideways so that the arm is arcing away from his chest. He tries to grab Aptera's wrist with his free hand and hold it straight, while his opposite elbow pile drives into hers. "Inland!" he shouts to Brogan. The beach is narrow. By taking the scenic route to town to avoid the pirate cove, the meals-on-heels follow the shore which in places (such as this one) squeezes between rocky cliffs and the sea.

Brogan is unfortunately a poor flirt at best, she basically looks a bit demented in her attempt to be becoming to the new love of her life. Her love struck thoughts are not dampened by the wriggle, attention firmly on the face of the mermaid. So with the seemingly date being proposed, she grins and gets ready to accept but alas, the pounce... Hang on Aptera, this elf wants to be slowly wooed not pounced upon for hanky panky straight away! So she stumbles back to try to avoid not-true-love's embrace, mostly escaping the arm but just being walloped by the hand instead, claws catching at her blouse by her ribs and slicing through flesh (unfortunately not a sexy area, Sorry Sargaso, today really sucks huh?) She nearly loses her balance, bag of Fugu fish dropped too but just about staying upright as she increases her distance between the now enemy, after all, who likes their exes? "Bollocks." And a few other words that should not be repeated are uttered.

Aptera pouts, jutting out her bottom lip with a smile. "That's not nice..." comes her complaint as she reels her arms back to her side...well, one of her arms. Sargaso's elbow drop nearly breaks her arm at the elbow, but she wiggles free. Only a few bruises so far. Hardly classy, elbow dropping a lady!! The mermaid will crank up the level on her seductive song, clawing her way a little bit closer to those tasty morsels. "Let's not be rash, I just want a kiss..." More like kiss of DEATH! They can easily escape without further damage -if- they don't fall back under her spell (That's why it's stronger, upping the dose a bit here folks) and -if- they can get a better distance away from the shoreline. "Don't be intimidated, lovelies...if a kiss is too much, how about a nice polite snuggle?" The mermaid's tail is poised for her next attack, talk about a destructive relationship. Some people really just can't let go.

Not the right time to get into this, but Sargaso would posit that there is no place a lady's shirt can rip that isn't sexy. What isn't sexy is this moment. He gives Brogan's wound a cursory glance of situational awareness, but his focus returns to wrestling this mermaid into the deep sleep. He utters a prayer to Selene for divine intervention and it boosts his defenses against mermaid's song specifically. The melody enters his ear as a cacophonous din that is distracting, but disenchanting. He flips his knife in his hand so his thumb braces the butt of the hilt and swipes from his chest outward towards Aptera's neck to slice it. He keeps moving. Mermaids are stronger than humans and he cannot risk being grabbed or pounced. He places himself between Brogan and Aptera, and if the elf tries to approach the alluring mermaid, he'll hip check her back towards the rocky cliffs. He doesn't have time to be gentle -- besides, she started it.

Brogan has no gods to pray to to be able to for protection of the song, stepping backward with each forward movement the fish woman makes. With the song strengthened in it's allure, she starts forward again only to be hip checked back. Karma at it's finest. She stumbles backwards again and now it is obvious that no matter how much her heart is a flutter , the feelings aren't true. So conflicted with temporary emotions and logic that is screaming inside her skull, she does the honourable and courageous thing of turning on her boots and fleeing, abandoning Sargaso to try to make sushi out of Aptera!

Aptera had been sure that she could take Sargaso. His knife slices a small cut into her otherwise flawless right cheek, which enrages her, as she pulls back to dodge his blow. Didn’t he know how much work it was to maintain this look?! “I’m going to eat you first,” she threatens with a sickening smile, just before the male knocks Brogan back. If he’d hit her hair…she’d have threatened much worse. “Damn you!” The mermaid shrieks in frustration as Brogan fights against her spell, claws extended and teeth gnashing to display her calm and clear opinion that the food is not playing fair. As strong and skilled as mermaids were, they were pretty helpless on land. Especially if they were outnumbered and their song was no longer effective. Aptera mutters some choice words under her breath as she pushes her weight onto her human like arms, swinging herself around. The length of her tail casts a wide area of attack, to push back the ironically unwelcomed advances of the land dwellers (maybe if she was lucky, her scales would slice their fragile bodies and leave them bleeding on shore!) in her formal retreat back into the ocean.

Sargaso tries to dodge the deft flick of Aptera's tail, but can't outpace those sharp scales. It slices through his abs deep enough to bite through muscle, but not deep enough to gut him like a fish. (Sargaso sushi?) The mermaid escapes and he's too wounded to chase her down and filet her. What more, in the water, he doesn't stand a chance. Adrenaline keeps him running along the cliff several paces in the direction Brogan ran, further inland too. Once he's a safe distance from the sea he collapses into a seated position in the marram grass and asseses the gash across his stomach. He takes off his shirt and bundles it to create a makeshift bandage. He glances east and west to weigh his options. Surely he's gotten out of worse pickles than this, right?