A new tale begins!!

[Fluffy Lynx]

WORD COUNT: 813

TAGGED: @lynx

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"Don't make me climb closer to get you to row faster Cormad! We're almost there, I can see Dauntaun in the distance!" A voice boomed not too far from the shore of Dauntaun. Standing on the front end of a small life boat, with one leg in front of the other, was a charismatic young woman, who had recently decided that the pirate life was the life for her. The first thing that'd reach the eyes of anyone peeking in her direction, was likely to be the fire-red hair that blossomed like a flower. Set up in a simple ponytail, it reached little more than halfway down her back. Via string and other means, beads and other jewelry had been carefully added to the red locks. The second thing that'd greet sailor and shopkeep alike, were a pair of ocean blue eyes. Those eyes were filled with life and passion, prepared to take on the entire world, as the smile on her lips assisted in portraying. From there, came a simple orange top that barely covered anything. Shoulders and arms were bare, and it was clear that the girl was used to the warmer sun down here in the south. The waist was a brown-bear belt, keeping up a pair of excruciatingly short hotpants. The legs themselves crept into a pair of white stockings, that at the end found way into a pair of boots. The girl looked like a mix between a hardworking mechanic and a beach girl looking to flirt with her next victim. Either description of her would probably be correct. Amelia certainly wasn't a person to let any kind of chance go by.

...As they reached the docks, Amelia took a small hop onto solid ground, making absolutely sure that she got nowhere close to falling into the water. So far, Cormad did not know of her little secret, and it was probably best it stayed that way for now. Sure, she planned on letting her crew know. Once she had secured herself one such. Looking around, the business on the docks were buzzing as per usual, even if it was getting rather late. Far out in the distance, the sun was casting off shades of orange and red. There weren't many hours left on the day. Fishermen were docking left and right, bringing in their daily catches. None of them seemed comfortable in fishing out on open sea at night. Wise choice for the average man. Further inland, were the makeshift smithies that took care of any immediate need that the boats required. Hooks, nails, general equipment. All was being sold here at a rapid pace and low prices. There was always something that had broken, needed repair or replacement when the sailors were returning home from a long day. A place where one could seemingly get everything sorted for a ship. Exactly what Amelia needed if she was going to gather anything resembling a chance to get a ship. With the money they had stolen from the Captain, there was a slim chance that they could at least get onwards with their quest. First things first though, both Amelia and Cormad needed to catch a break. Escaping from the ragtag nobles hadn't been easy. Not that Amelia had done any of the rowing, but even watching Cormad had gotten her tired. Stretching herself to full lenght, the girl let out a soft yawn.

"We've made it Cormad. Dauntaun. I hope you're familliar with this place, because I am definitely going to need a place to rest and have a shower. Just looking at you rowing got me all sweaty. Not to mention how sweaty and smelly you are. Grab the loot, will you?.. I'll look for a place where we can stay the night." Stepping forwards casually, she was speaking to Cormad as if he was a friend of long time that she could depend on doing what he was told. Their relationsship was a strange one, and it had only just begun. Yet, she figured that Cormad would be doing a decent job at following orders. Otherwise she could always start blowing him kisses. "I think the good places are further inland. If you don't have any better suggestions, we'll go that way." Amelia pointed towards the mainland of Dauntaun. It'd be probable that they could find an inn or a bar there.

[Roin]

Not only had he been forced to row the whole way, but she hadn't once helped. Not even one single time! Cormad had been sweaty, the physical labor a bit much for the once-mighty pirate... but the moment they reached the dock, she had hopped out and already begun to speak of her plans. Or perhaps it was their plans... Cormad was barely paying attention until she mentioned to grab the loot. Why did he have to carry it!?

Damn if she isn't bossy! This vile woman is all I can throw in with for now, though...

Rising to his feet and taking only enough time to grab the loot bag and his own things, it took only a moment to figure out a plan for carrying it all. Using the large strap of his bag, Cormad slung it onto his back in one easy motion. With both hands freed, the other bag was grabbed and hefted up to his shoulder. It was strong, so the worry of it spilling their loot out the bottom wasn't a remote idea... but with it resting over the musician's shoulder, the lower half had rested against the back. The result was spreading the weight more than enough to keep one hand free. Moving and hopping out the small craft, the feel of solid land was enough to give the cook a decent bit of comfort. Tiny craft weren't exactly stable...

The town itself wasn't too far away, but the bustle and noise for the time of day were promising. Amelia was already making her way there with her mind made up... and part of Cormad wanted to take her loot and bail. But risking that woman chasing him was not something the pirate even wanted to consider. Following after her, though a considerable distance apart, the gynophobe took in their surroundings in silence. Industrial islands like this weren't exactly new to him... but after growing up in a small town on Lyneel, they were still a bit overwhelming. One hand idly moved to take hold of the harmonica as the strange duo walked, sighing at the idea that this was likely not to be the last time he'd walk through one...

---

A click of a Den Den Mushi in a far-off office in the city limits of Dauntaun left one man sighing. A reported act of piracy, just off the shore... just great. It was a bit late to consider the thieves would find transport of the island, however. The stranger rose and moved to idly lift a new Den Den Mushi. It took only a brief dial-up to ensure the number was connected, but at last the man spoke up.

"Tomorrow, I want you to go into town to find out about any strange people showing up... no... it's better to get this handled later."

---

Dauntaun only grew more lively the further the pair went into the town, a few eyes fixing to the duo. Most of them were lecherous eyes on Amelia, but a few were shocked to see the large man following behind her. Cormad hadn't been able to change much, but the apron from the cook's old job was safely tucked away. The rumbler was more or less ignoring everyone and having to focus his efforts on listening to Amelia, the distance between him and the starry-eyed thief essential to not freaking out... but also obviously making it difficult to communicate.

"Won't any place do? I'd rather get rid of this stuff in exchange for some Beri..."

How many times had they passed some shoddy inn that would have sufficed for the Harmonic Pirates years ago? This girl was fixed on finding a "proper" place, no doubt, but in Cormad's head a bed was a bed... the idea of luxury escaped him more than the idea of women scared 'em! The only good note was that as they walked, the buildings and services within improved to match the town proper... and the chance of finding a place to stay that the regular yolk would enjoy was growing. However, while their chances grew, so did the suspicion toward the duo. It'd only be a matter of time before the odd-ball team were the talk of the town with their search for a place to stay!

This woman sure isn't one to shy out of making a scene... but I guess I should have known that back when we left the ship... not once has she even let me know how my food tasted! Spoiled brat, I should punch her to death for such disrespect!

But nothing happened, of course... there was no way Cormad was going to risk that woman getting close if he could stay safe and well apart. Heck, it was already a challenge just worrying about the women on the streets trying to talk and steer 'em into being closer! The gynophobe was practically zigzagging to avoid it... and obviously was making a bigger scene than Amelia and her strut could ever make.

[Vio]

The rich ambers and reds of a setting sun having been cast over the bustling island of Dauntaun, it was no wonder that the levels of activity seemed to be shifting. The general traffic of daylight ebbed away, while that of the night began to creep in, creating a busy atmosphere all about the highly industrious island. Perhaps the most interesting thing, however, was the way in which the sun's fiery glow was captured in the air, painting every inch of land with a rusty hue as the light was captured upon the thick and smog-ridden air. A testament to the type of land this was, and that certainly suited the giant of a man who currently meandered through the streets, a wide white smile upon his face as he marched to the jolly rhythm of his own heart. Above everybody else he towered, even the Fishmen who called this land a home. On his back he carried a round shield as tall as any man and, to match it, a massive hammer. Beside him, however, walked another two figures whose own statures could only hope to equal his. A young woman whose own height was impressive, albeit not as unnatural, walked on his left. And a dog that might as well have been a giant wolf trotted along to his right. Who were these massive figures? Hector Wayland, Helen Wayland, and Wilk.

"Oi, pops? Where to now?" asked the not-so-little lady, a hefty broadsword held in her left hand and rested over her back, while with her right she toyed with the rich blonde locks that cascaded from her head. Her own stride was a broad one, somehow keeping pace with her more massive father's steps without showing any signs of struggle. Jeans embraced her legs, adorned with 'fashionable' tears and tucked into brown boots that thumped proudly upon the ground as she walked, matching the heavy footfalls of her old man. To the other side of the quarter-Giant, the grey-furred lapphund turned his ears curiously, eyes trained ahead as he panted happily, but choosing to listen in on the conversation of his pack.

"Beats me! Weihehei! Why? Ye got plans I don't know about? Found yerself a young man, eh?" Mister Wayland laughed, his smile shifting into a playful and yet mischievous grin as he looked down at his daughter, finding her reaction to his words rather humorous. He meant no harm by them, that much they both knew, but that did not stop the girl's clenched fist from colliding with the muscular forearm of her own father. Despite that, it did not faze him in the slightest, the grinning goliath shrugging off with ease what would likely have stung the arm of an average man for hours afterwards. Rather, he just laughed heartily before placing his palm upon Helen's head, a warmer smile now taking a hold of his face.

"Weihehei! Lighten yerself up, Helen! No use being a sour-puss!" A gentle yet firm pat upon the head was more than enough to make the bronzed blonde shudder from the force, her own form not quite as resilient as that of her paternal figure, but she endured it better than anybody else would. Eyes stared at the group from all directions, ears having no choice but to catch the loud and cheery voice of the behemoth blacksmith. They had been on Dauntaun since the late hours of the morning, yet still it was nigh impossible for any of the populace to make sense of the fact that such an abnormally large group of people could be wondering around the city. Sure, the commonfolk got along well enough with the aquatic folk with whom they shared the island, but Giant-human hybrids were a completely different thing. These were people of the Blues, likely unaware of the fact that there were races of abnormal proportion in the world, or at least having never seen them with their own eyes.

"Whatever, old man. We should find a place to stop the night," Miss Wayland suggested, the slight ruby light of embarrassment clinging to her cheeks as the fiery family walked on through town, the bearded blacksmith himself paying no heed to the many men and women and children who stopped to stare at his bulk. Not only was he a tall fellow, but a muscular one as well, his golden-brown physique formed from years of brawling with his own father and working in the forges of his homeland. A myriad of scars criss-crossed his chest, most of them defining be little more than paled streaks of skin where wounds had healed; memories of his most beloved battles etched into his own flesh and exposed to all those who looked upon him. And yet, despite the intimidating factors that one may have felt when looking upon him for the first time, the manner in which he acted - carefree and jovial - seemed as warm and welcoming as any roaring camp fire.

"Hm? I guess so! It's past yer bedtime!" This time witholding his usual booming laughter, Hector's dark eyes met the sapphire blue hues of his daughter as she cast him a sideways glare of disapproval, likely finding the current target of his humour to be tarnishing her social image. Whatever that social image may have been for a girl who wore naught but a band of white fabric about her chest, leaving the rest of her topside exposed to the elements...

SPOILER: Click to show

Hector Wayland (012345)
Helen Wayland (ffcc22)

[Fluffy Lynx]

WORD COUNT: 781

TAGGED: @lynx

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"Sheesh, Cormad! Who do you think we are? Rats living in the sewers amongst all the other slum trying to make a pathetic living hiding? We're many times better than the average rabble. Nothing is good enough for us, we just settle for the thing that comes closest!" Smiling brightly over her own way of life, the girl was stepping forwards through a mass of people. Here in Dauntaun, everyone more or less looked the same. Their clothes were that of hard-working honest folk. Grey, black and brown colors, that wouldn't be completely destroyed by a few drops of oil. Mingling in between them, the smell of grease, sweat, fish and fishblood was quite overpowering. Even so, it didn't seem to bother the fearless leader of the pirates. It was, afterall, in a place quite like this she had once grown up. Due to the sheer size of Cormad, and the plunder that he was carrying, the stream of people seemed to be dividing on either side of them, making a nice passage in the middle - albeit also making them stand out quite a bit from the average populace...

...As they arrived in the middle of Dauntaun, Amelia let out a soft sigh. The buildings here weren't on the verge of breaking apart, and the smell of many hours of hard work plus fish had died down quite a bit. There was a parfumist, tailor, weapon smith, groceries and other such shops you'd expect in a proper village. Here they could stack up on supplies, and also find a proper place to stay the night. Stretching herself out to full lenght, the girl let out a soft yawn. It seemed that she was finally getting tired. That even if Cormad had been doing all the work. While they had been walking through the crowd, quite a few eyes had been upon them. It was likely that there'd be some dilemma to handle in the morning. As long as they could get a good nights rest though, that didn't worry Amelia too much. Not far from Dauntaun's townhall, they came upon the Inn. The Pot and the lute. A generic name that one could probably find just about anywhere, though it seemed the best Dauntaun had to offer. 

"This seems like a good enough place." Amelia noted in a soft tone, before opening the door so she and Cormad could enter. The inn itself was a rather large building, and had probably been one of the first buildings in Dauntaun aside from the Townhall. The wall had initially been built with wood, but had been needing an outer reinforcement of stone. Inside, there were plenty of candles burning, while the scent of alchohol was above all. On a small stage in the corner, a female was singing while a man was playing the piano. Countless of tables had the visitors and citizens playing all kinds of card games, while enjoying the entertainment. By the bar, the innkeeper was casually washing off glasses while taking orders from the drunkards. To the left side of the stage, there was a set of stairs leading upstairs to the various rooms that could be rented for the night. Underneath the stairs was a trapdoor leading to the basement, where vine, cheese and other food articles were stored...

Amelia was dauntlessly stepping forward, more or less cutting inbetween the men who were currently ordering alchohol, rudely interrupting them - yet somehow managing to avoid trouble by the sheer fact that she was a delicate female. "Oi, keeper! I'm looking for a room for me and my friend here. We'd like to stay the night. We're taking your best suite with a bathtub, and if someone's already rented it, thats too bad for them, for I will not settle. Payment will be done either through trading or cash, take your pick!" There was a short bit of arguing back and forth, since naturally the best room was taken, but shortly after Amelia returned to Cormad with the keys, beaming like a sun. "Go ahead and pay the good man Cormad. Then order us some food and drink, I'll find a place to sit." Uncaring of the situation with the plunder, uncaring about the fact that she had to trust Cormad with the money, uncaring about seemingly everything, Amelia found herself a spot close by the stage. For reasons unknown, she was fascinated by the idea of singing in front of a crowd.

[Deleted]

 *Note: I can change this if need be, but given Darcy's Backstory has her off being a Bartender, this seemed like the perfect entry point.*

  The inn was noisey that day, the people inside drinking and eating to their heart's content. It went unnoticed by most, but the pair dramatically entering did not not miss the eye of the woman standing at the counter. The brash girl marched forward and poked her head between several regulars, immediately starting on a spiel. "Oi, keeper! I'm looking for a room for me and my friend here. We'd like to stay the night. We're taking your best suite with a bathtub, and if someone's already rented it, thats too bad for them, for I will not settle. Payment will be done either through trading or cash, take your pick!" There wasn't actually anyone in that room, but the bartender was a tad annoyed that she, and several of the regulars, had been cut off by a rather young girl. Business was business, afterall, so eventually, a deal was cut. She was going back to the previously interrupted orders when the girl's voice made it's way to her ear. "Go ahead and pay the good man Cormad. Then order us some food and drink, I'll find a place to sit."

 She paused, one eye twitching. "Daft girl. Oi'm not tha' manly lookin'..." Indeed, Darcy Coill was rather striking, even in her odd garb. Anyone looking below the bar would notice that the floor was set down a few feet, and Darcy was slouching. The combined effect only managed to cut a few feet off her height. No matter how you try, you can't make an 8 foot tall woman look short. To be entirely fair, however, she was not the picture of feminine charm. Her clothing consisted of a sailor's jumper, dark blue, with a black tie and vest over it, in the traditional bartender style. Her pants were a solid white, and oddly off from the rest of the outfit, as if part of some partial uniform, and thin, round glasses she wore managed to balance on the tip of her nose like an acrobat. 

 Shaking her inky-haired head, the woman gestured at Cormad, rolling her emerald eyes. "Oye, lad. Put tha' money on the countah, oi'll get it in a minute." Turning back to the trio sitting at the bar, she very pointedly took their orders. Turning, she snagged bottles off the wall, pouring a trio of ales in long, foamy arcs. Filling the glasses, she took the remaining beer and poured it into a bowl, adding flour, spices, and some other ingredients that were taken and returned too fast to see. From the sideboard, several pieces of fish were picked up, and dipped in the batter, before being dunked in a pot of some kind of boiling oil. Taking a knife from the knifeblock,the cook/bartender began slicing up potatoes, before finally looking back up. "What are ye lookin' for foodwise? Oi got tha Fish and chips oi'm makin' roight 'ere, and some stew simmering in the kitchen. Anythin' else, you'll 'ave ta wait a tad." 

  The tone was very brusk, but not altogether rude. Brushing her hair back, the bartender frowned a bit. It was hectic in here, but it was a lot calmer than many of her previous work. It would almost have turned into a flashback if she had not been handling boiling oil. No sense in burning your hands over something that was 2 years in the past. Although, speaking of the past, there was a familiar prickle on the back of her neck. Something about the man being bossed around was rather familiar. Not his face as much as the way he carried himself. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Darcy, and built in a rather top-heavy manner. 

 It wasn't until she turned back to retrieve another ale that she nearly smacked herself. An oddball couple, entering a tavern and looking for a room. It could be the most bizarre honeymoon ever, an unlikely reality given the fact that the man seemed to be flinching every time a woman got close to him, or it was a new pirate crew. It was almost a law of the world that anyone remotely interesting ended up becoming a pirate, Marine, bounty hunter, or Revolutionary, for the most part. Those without the desire to fight, or adventure in their heart, the far more numerous 95% of people, lived in the Blues, farming, working, and generally living in reasonable ignorance of the sheer chaos of the Grand Line. He certainly wasn't a Marine, and Bounty Hunters tended to be a bit more overt. Glancing over the corner of her eye at the man again, Darcy frowned briefly. Well, if he and his friend decided to cause any trouble, it would be a rough road for them. They didn't seem the Pillage and Burn type, though. 

[Roin]

With the bad news that they'd be sharing a room, albeit the best suite, it had visibly shown that the gynophobe was not pleased. At least while working for the cruise liner, they'd never forced the man to sleep remotely near a woman... not that the idea was horrible for him, but rather scary! Despite the internal complaints, however, this wasn't the time to argue... so Cormad moved toward the counter and stopped before it while the "man" talked.

... This... man isn't...

It took a few moments, but at last Cormad registered the larger woman as... well, a woman! The musician didn't recoil or anything however... something about her size and the rough accent escaped triggering the gynophobic fighter. Noting the lack of fear, Cormad took time to release the iron grip around the bag's mouth and pushed the other one inside. The woman had begun to speak on what they had... and all of it only soured the mood of the man from the North Blue. Did places like this not take pride in preparing good dishes? If it were his kitchen, the Harmonic Ghost would have been back there breaking skulls to ensure the food was of the best quality. While music was his passion, cooking had been trained into the boy for a very long time.

As the hand emerged from the bag, a handful of coined and billed beri was visible through the cracks of the large hand. And as fast as it had appeared, the Cormad slammed it to the counter before making a face at the taller woman.

"We'll take a full meal each... and there should be more than enough to pay for the room left over. I will say, however... I'd never leave my cooks alone unless they were capable of matching my own cooking or the best cook in the house. And I'm a darn good cook, so I expect a solid meal..."

With his statement made, the knife-fighter turned and re-tightened the grip around the bag... and started the zigzagging path over to Amelia. It was always going to be a goofy thing when in public... but Cormad didn't want to get near most women! The fact that some didn't trigger the fear of getting close was nice, but that didn't help conquer the fear of all the others. However, by the end of the walk, the man dropped the bag to the ground beside the red-headed gal. It didn't burst, but it gave quite the loud clank to alert her that it was there... but Cormad kept on past the table. The man was heading straight toward the stage.

The two performers were just ending their "bit" as the large guy arrived... and both looked to him in confusion. The duo hesitated, but both got up and moved to meet him on one side of the stage.

"Can we help you mister?" "We just were finishin' up so-" "Good... which of you can play drums?"

The look of confusion on their faces brought a smirk to Cormad's face. It had been a long time since the man had got to perform... and as the woman raised her hand awkwardly, the man motioned toward a drumset toward the back of the stage.

"Get it out and set it up... I just need you to play along and go with the feel."

Without any spine to argue with such a large, powerhouse-looking man, the pair took off to retrieve the set and get it set up... all while Cormad idly followed along. While they grabbed it, however... the large man looked to the only guitar there. The instrument would have to do... and picking the blue instrument up, the man started right back out to the center of the stage. By now, the place had considerably quieted down, confused by the sudden entrance of the large man... but at last, the drums were set and the man moved to the center of the stage.

Not only did Cormad feel the eyes of the watchers on him, but the woman on the drums could practically be felt staring into his back. The pair had been so close to being done, but neither wanted to argue with a rough-looking guy like the large musician. Idly lifting the harmonica, the man gave a quick tug and tap to the chain, locking the links into their sheath state, rather than their loose and slack disguised form. And in that moment, the man's harmonica was fixed at a slight angle, hanging before Cormad's face. It had been so long since the harmonica enthusiast got to play... but there were some songs that came easy enough to everyone... and the drummer behind him only needed a solid into and she could work out the rest of the song.

Giving a light strum, the guitar's noise echoed through the room... and at last, the ex-Captain felt a familiar sensation. Putting his mouth to the harmonica, the entire place quieted at the noise of a solid tempo "beaten" from the floor with hard taps of Cormad's right foot. And then, for the first time in years, the man got to start playing his heart out. The opening rift came and went fast, the man releasing the harmonica just long enough to raise to sing through the microphone, singing the first few lines of the song.

""There must be some wa~y out of here"... said the joker to the thie~f... "There's too much co~nfusio~n"... I can't get no relief!"

The woman who had been singing had got the rhythm well enough... and the man simply let the music take over. After spending so much time forced to cook and staying hidden... there was something that had been made clear by that crazy woman. Amelia hadn't stepped out of the limelight... but rather strut in it. Even if the greedy thief had made quite the scene for it... she made it clear that Cormad couldn't just stay out of the spotlight forever. The Harmonic Ghost was a pirate... and hell, if this was the chance to do what he enjoyed again, then the ex-Captain was going to see it done!

[Vio]

Down the street the trio continued, Hector Wayland leading the way with a slow and steady stride as his daughter ambled along beside him. Wilk trotted along obediently at the flank of his master, sniffing the air and its overpowering assortment of unnatural scents. His fluffy tail wagged calmly, happy with the presence of his family and the loving warmth they radiated. Eventually they turned a corner, entering a slightly narrower street where some of the buildings had overhangs, forcing the blacksmith to duck somewhat and stay to the middle of the road to avoid cracking his head open on one of them. Quietly he wondered what it must be like for true Giants - whose height was a good three to four times his own - in a world dominated by humans and their smaller proportions. All in all, this 'big city' was not all that big.

"Heh? What's wrong, Wilk?" asked the jolly juggernaut, hearing the curious growl from the muzzle of the massive mutt. Looking to the dog, he noticed that ears were pricked up and focused ahead, listening to some noise that the other two could not hope to hear. That was the benefit to owning such a faithful companion; Wilk could pick up on things that they could not, alerting them to danger - or fun - that was otherwise distant. He barked excitedly, tail wagging with fervour as his glistening eyes looked down the cobblestone path. Fortunately, they were already headed in that direction, but it was the man himself who picked up the pace as a toothy smile spread out upon his face. He had known the dog long enough to realise what those signals meant and, as he gave his daughter a quick glance over his shoulder, he knew she did too. Moving swiftly, but not at all running, the big three advanced as their canine comrade led the way. Every now and then his ears twitched to catch other sounds, such as the distant barks of other dogs or sounds entirely inaudible to human ears, but nothing deterred him from his course.

"Looks like he's found some action, pops!" Miss Wayland said, the similarly mischievous smile upon her visage as she swiftly marched alongside the massive strides of her father. Indeed, it was now something of a struggle for her 'average' legs to keep up with his own, but she seemed to be managing just fine. It did not take much longer before they found what Wilk had been alerted to, the wolf-like bundle of fur stopping at an even narrower alley down which Hector could not hope to fit unless he moved sideways like a crab. In they peered, glaring eagerly into the shadowed zone between two towering buildings...

"Listen up, Melon boy! This is Steele territory, ya hear? Your kind ain't welcome!" A brawny man standing no taller than the Wayland daughter seemed to loom over a slightly smaller man, patting his fist against his palm as he and two other men surrounded the individual. Clearly this was a brawl in the making, which was likely what had drawn Wilk towards them, smelling the fear of the one and hearing the intimidation of the many. It was the start of a fight, one in which the odds were heavily in favour of a particular group. And so, in true Wayland family spirit, the giant of a man placed his hand against the corner of one of the buildings and stood at the entrance to the alley, Helen and Wilk before him.

"Weihehe-ll! What've we got 'ere, eh? You boys lookin' for some action?" the battle-crazed blacksmith bellowed down the alley, flexing the fingers of his free hand and balling them into a fist larger than a man's head. Helen did similar, drawing her sword up from her back, just enough to expose its girth to the bullies. Wilk, meanwhile, bared his fangs and snapped at the air while growling in anticipation. All three of them were itching to get into a fight, simply to have some fun and let off some steam, but it was apparent that such an act was not about to come to them. All four of the men turned to face the family, at first eyeing the large dog and the woman. Then, rather slowly, their eyes followed the silhouette of the much larger figure into the air. Faces paled, eyes widened, jaws dropped. It seemed as if the three men of Steele had possessed the height advantage over their prey, but now they were faced with the abnormal sight of three rather massive individuals. Well, at least one aberration now struck fear into their hearts. It was very likely these men had never seen a Giant before, let alone a man of their descent, which was probably what had the three of them (four if you counted the underdog) frozen in place.

"What's 'e matter? Cat got yer tongues? Hehei!" Looking down at the men with dark brown eyes, the mammoth metalworker grinned more wildly than before, but he was already pretty certain by the reaction received that these men did not intend to fight him. Cowards. Not even worth the challenge, he thought, his smile fading to an exaggerated frown as the opposing troupe made to turn tail and flee down the alleyway. Wilk's hackles fell, the lupine Lapphund having raised them only out of eagerness, before letting out a whine of disappointment. One of the fleeing fellows turned back to glare at the one pressed against the brickwork of the wall, cowering under his gaze, but a sharp and stern snarl sent the more defiant male packing.

"Jeez! Why're they always so timid?" Helen huffed, expressing her own lack of satisfaction from the events that had just played out as she rested her sword arm once more. Her bright sapphire eyes met the dark shades of her father's and they exchanged a shrug of the shoulders. Yes, Waylands loved to fight, but never would they dream of starting a brawl without good cause. Rather, they preferred to seek out a battle that was starting or ongoing, leaping into the fray and taking it upon themselves to fight for the losing side, no matter how drastically outnumbered or outmatched they were. That behaviour had not killed them yet, but the lack of any such action in the past fortnight was starting to get at them; Wilk could sense that, too.

"Th-th-thank you!" gasped the stranger, bowing as deeply as possible to his unexpected saviors, yet failing to make any sort of eye contact. "I'll do wh-whatever I can to repay you!"

"Hm? In that case, d'you know of a good place to stay?" Remaining at least somewhat determined to actually get somewhere in the near future, the young blonde posed a simple question, otherwise wishing for no reward. The only reward worth the trouble would have been an actually decent fight, but that was not an option. Instead, she focused on finding a much needed place to rest.

"Sure? Um. There's an inn not far from here. The Pot and the Lute," explained the Melon man (though none of them had any actual idea as to why he had been called Melon in the first place, because he didn't resemble one in the least bit). Standing up, he raised an arm and pointed off to the right. "Follow this street up to the end and take a right. It's on your left, just a couple of doors up from the smithy..."

SPOILER: Click to show

Watch your doors and furniture! Hector's coming in next round!

[Fluffy Lynx]

WORD COUNT: 768

TAGGED: @lynx

TAGGED:

Stepping across the wooden inn floor, Amelia was starting to feel lethargic. There had been too long without anything to eat while they had gotten back onto shore. With her stomach rumbling for food, she wasn't exactly the most energetic person around. With every step she took, her boots clicked against the wooden floor. Being in an inn like this brought back memories. There was a strange kind of warmth. Not only was the cold being kept out, but an open fireplace somewhere towards the back of the inn was spreading that strange feeling that only a fire would. The scent of different meats being roasted, alongside different spices.. Curry, coconut, pepper, salt.. The girl could smell all of it. Added was the distinct aroma given off by people smoking, alongside all the girls wearing cheap parfume, and the small amount of males in cologne. In the background there was music, entertainment of a sorts. Underlining it all, was the beginning scent of alcoholic beverages, as the time of day had, according to the ones digging into the bottles, finally reached that time of day. Everything here was cozy, yet the girl couldn't help but feel alone amongst all the people. There was a time where she'd have come to places like these just to hang out with a group of friends. Perhaps that was what she needed..?

Or perhaps it was the fact that Cormad was trying to steal the spotlight?! At first, the girl had a feeling of getting to her feet and hitting him with a wrench for being so distasteful, but when she heard him sing, she realised exactly why he was doing it. It was exactly like her. There were some things that people just had to do. There were some goals that people simply had to reach. Cormad was starting to understand that cutting back and letting go of ones wishes and desires was the same as accepting life as it was. Amelia was always looking to reach that next step, a new peak, the next height! If anyone was going to be following that path alongside her, they had to reach for the same ideals! Reach for the best life! The thoughts were being interrupted once again by her rumbling tummy. Only because she was very hungry, and because Cormad was taking the spotlight, she decided to go bother the barkeep. Perhaps that would at least be mildly interesting.

Stepping up to the bar, she once again cut in line, simply by using her female forms, a few innocent smiles and a couple of winks, until she was simply at the front of the queue. There, she once again started bothering poor Darcy, possibly in the worst way possible. Being extremely polite in her tone and mannerisms, it was only the fact that she was putting effort into saying sir that it came off as insultive. Especially because Amy was well aware that Darcy was a female. Albeit a very masculine one.
"Sir, I've changed my mind. We'd also like to have some strong alcohol, please. I think my big friend on stage needs to cut loose a little.." Gesturing towards the stage where Cormad was singing, Amelia moved a little closer to Darcy so that she could lower her voice, as if sharing a deep found secret with the other woman. That, and I think you accidentally wore the wrong outfit when you showed up at work today. Your clothes appear more befitting of a female than a male. Just making you aware so you don't embarass yourself. Thank you, sir." Looking towards Darcy as if she was being sincere, Amy slowly withdrew herself from the bar, smiling widely as if  she was an upstanding citizen just doing Darcy a favor. It'd be pretty hard for anyone but Cormad to realise just how much of a thorn she was actually being.

Amelia in a nutshell. It seemed for now that she'd be waiting at the bar for the food to be finished so she could bring it back to the table for her and Cormad to enjoy. Sitting herself onto a barstool, she was casually talking with the other bar patrons.

[Deleted]

 
  When Darcy heard Cormad's comment, there was intially no response. Then, with a whirl, she spun around and grabbed a kitchen knife. From there, it was a hurricane of activity, drawers and cupboards opening and closing, things being pulled out, heated, oiled, and coated in flour. So, her food was sub-par, huh? Ok, he hadn't actually said that, but it was Heavily Implied god dammit! Pulling out a saucepan, she began to mix up various spices in a light yellow batter.

 Over at the bar, an older man glanced up from his pint, chuckling at the sight of Darcy working furiously. Bellingham remembered seeing the girl enter the town, two years before. He was a regular at the inn, and frequently drank or ate there. That day, he had been at the docks to help unload a recently arrived Marine ship. There, among the disembarking soldiers, was one woman. She was unusually tall, but walked with a slump, arms held close to the side. She looked extremely tired, and there were bandages peeking out from many places.

 There had been a bit of a challenge understanding her accent, but once he had found out she could cook, he had brought her over to his favorite watering hole, hoping there was a job for her there. It had amused him to no end when the owner had awkwardly asked if she could make simpler food, as he could't actually afford to serve some of the dishes she had started making on a regular basis. Darcy had looked crestfallen, but it was a pub, and drunken people did not appreciate good food in most cases. Still, it was a poor idea to insult her food, as the response was generally for her to cram the best food she could make down your throat until you puked. Sometimes literally.

 He was just about to take another swig of his ale, when suddenly, he was pushed nearly diagonal by a small girl. Frowning, he shifted sideways, and was about to return to his drink, when the girl next to him proceeded to verbally HAMMER another one of Darcy's sore spots. "That, and I think you accidentally wore the wrong outfit when you showed up at work today. Your clothes appear more befitting of a female than a male. Just making you aware so you don't embarass yourself. Thank you, sir."

There was a brief pause in the cooking, and then Darcy turned around. "Lass, Ah severely want ta smack you upside your apparently half blind head right now. Here's a couple o' bottles o' Tull Island Rain Whiskey. I'll be done with your food in a minute. Also, for the record, Ah'd think the bloody bosom would give me away, but since it has not, Ah am a bleedin' woman." Giving Amelia a flat look, the cook briefly considered making good on the threat of a head-slapping, but decided against it. Placing the trays into the oven, she began washing her hands. "Ah made you and your pirate pal Beef Wellington. It'll be just a minute, but it should satisfies his standards, I'd think." Placing her fingers on the corks of the bottles, there was a Pop, and she drew the hand back, the corks attached to the end of her fingers. A strange red spike seemed to be protruding from her hand, but it vanished up her sleeve very quickly indeed.

 

[Kami-Gaz]

“Gah this place is sooooo booooring~!” A higher voice echoed down the deserted alleyways, bouncing off of the stone brick walls and the garbage covered floor only to return to its owner with in a second of being uttered. A lone figure stood in there, above a bag of trash and thrown out belongings, their face masked. “I can’t even find a good lead here.” It hissed out, bouncing back in just the same way. There was a moment of silence before the mysterious figure turned and in the same motion took on large step towards the exit of the alleyway, a faint jingling of bells filling up the empty space. It would slowly emerge from the darkness and onto the busy streets of Dauntaun. The figure belonged to one of the weirdest new arrivals to this industrial island, clad in clothes that were too small for it, wearing a mask that was held in place by a coxcomb.

The girl under the mask had one more feature on show that people would find weird; she had small wings bursting out of the back of her red leather jacket. However, at the moment they were hidden by the banjo that she had strapped to her back when they were on show they pulled quite a few stares. Stares she could deal with, all she had to do was pluck a few strings and tell a joke, and people would soon forget that this being in front of them was even a sky person. Ever since she arrived on the surface world there were always questions about where she came from and what the sky lands were like, and she would always answer them truthfully. Erica Lefray was a proud sky person… she just hated being a female.

The lower city air was wafting up the street; it was putrid and gut wrenching, the jester again turned on her heel to head up to the town hall just to escape the stench. There at least was one good place to spend a night; it was a small pub by the town hall that she had spent her nights in. It wasn't long till the smithy came into view, under the mask the girl started to smile, the new smell of hot food and strong alcohol prematurely filling her nose. ‘Just a few more doors, almost there’ she thought as images of a hearty stew stirred in her mind. The Pot and the lute was the best inn she had come across in the south blue, though not the cheapest it was certainly the funniest. In just a few more steps and Erica would have a fun filled night with singing and drinking, though the drinking part was hard when you barely remove your mask in public.

In one swift motion the door was pushed open and Erica entered, witnessing the barmaid get given an order from her customer and a large man letting all of his soul out on a harmonica. The mask didn't show it but the jesters face was confused, while this sort of scene isn't rare it was always awkward. “Ah am a bleedin' woman.” The man like bartender said to the very pretty looking red haired girl who seemingly had a dig into the bartender.

“Hey! Can you get me something light? I'm a light weight.” She called in with a giddy little jog as she ran towards an open bar stole, though her voice had an added bit of gruffness, as if she was acting like a man. Hopefully this will take her mind off of the rude girl who was also sat at the bar. “Ohh! Can you also whip me up something to eat?” She asked with a slight tilt to her head, causing the bells on her hat to jingle one more time, though the music the larger gentleman was playing drowned them out pretty quickly. “I’ll play a song or two when I'm done… Really liven this place up.” She chuckled whilst pulling on the strap that her banjo was attached too, making it slide down and around to her front. Her feathery wings were now showing, free, and able to stretch out. Really, it felt amazing to stretch her wings after having them pressed against her back all day long the evidence of this was the long sigh that escaped her lips, muffled by the mask. “It’s go~~od to stre~eh~eh~etch.” She sang with a simple strum on her banjo.

[Roin]

The song had reached it's mid point, the strum of the guitar, the hum of the harmonica, the beat of the drums, and the voice of Cormad all rather warmed up by now. But one newcomer had resulted in the song momentarily getting sloppy... why? The person had strummed on a banjo. A few people had looked toward the source... but the song cut off only moments after the mistake. And unlike those few people... the Harmonic Ghost did a lot more than look, especially as the guitar he'd been playing moments went flying past the jester and into the wall just to the side of Darcy and Amelia.

"Who the hell interrupts me when I'm trying to play!? There's no class in interrupting another musician! Especially not the Harmonic Ghost!"

The place had grown silent, not from recognition... but from the scene that had started to unfold. As "cool" as Cormad had been to stay out of the spotlight while in this town... the musical man had been interrupted in the first performance that had felt good to him. No performer should ever get disrespected in the manner that this jester had just done to him... and there was no way that the oldest of the Morre siblings was going to let it fly.

"If you're so intent on playing, why don't you come up to the stage and do so! That guitar was cheap and I bet your Banjo is an instrument not worth its weight!"

Turning, Cormad moved to the nearby piano, the drummer now confused and worried. While the large man sat down, the other hand moved to pull and tug the harmonica from his neck, the chain unlinking and allowing the instrument to come away in his grip. But the moment it was, a quick press of a release sent the weapon into a near transformation, the instrument flipping open like a switchblade. With the prized weapon displayed, Cormad spun the square-shaped knife before driving it down in a hard stab, the corner of the blade digging into the sheet holder. It wasn't to damage the instrument due to the location... but it made it clear that a fight would break out if the declaration wasn't made. Hopefully.

"Don't worry, I'll play along! Go ahead and come on up with that stupid banjo! Maybe if I play and interrupt you, you might understand why you don't cut a fellow performer off!"

How many years had Cormad been unable to play? How long had those damned rich bastards pushed him around as some measly cook? It had been too long was the only answer. This pirate was going to shine, even if it meant scaring people. That jester was one annoying bastard... and if he wanted to interrupt the oldest Morre child... then why not see if the man is worth listening to? Amelia and the Marines that might be seeking them be damned, today was going to be the day Cormad stopped being so... so spineless!

[Vio]

Disappointed from the utter lack of fun, in any sense of the word, the Wayland family continued on their journey towards the nearest inn. Rounding the corner, the three travelers were soon greeted by the sound of singing and music emanating from a nearby building; the very establishment that they were after. As per usual, strangers watched as the giant of a man strolled across the cobblestones and headed in the direction of their chosen place of rest and relaxation. However, there was an immediate issue that Helen took note of, catching the eyes of her father after giving a quick assessment of the entryway. A normal sized door was the only was in or out of the tavern itself and, while it was certainly larger than the doorways of common households, it was still a problem. How would a man nearly eleven feet tall squeeze through a door no taller than eight? The answer was a simple one, and one that his daughter expected of him. But, despite the obvious flaw, she tried to advise him against it in her typical way.

"You'll never fit through, Pops," the young Miss Wayland stated bluntly as she strode in through the door, followed by Wilk, both of whom proceeded to stand and wait for the largest member of the trio. With his child's back towards him and his faithful companion waiting obediently, the behemoth of a blacksmith assessed the situation with small and dark eyes, sizing up the difficulty of the task. His conclusion? Of course he would fit! He would just have to shed some weight first, which meant taking his shield and handing it to Helen. And he did just that, taking the large piece of protective equipment and rolling it in through the door ahead of him, its width as large as any table. Predicting this action, Helen raised her free hand and grabbed the shield - which stood as tall as herself - by the edge, supporting it beside her and puffing her cheeks as she listened for the inevitable.

"Sounds like a challenge to me! Weihehei!" Strangely encouraged by the words of his kin, Hector bent his knees and lowered himself to a more reasonable height, poking his head through the open door and taking a quick look around. So many sets of eyes were upon him, the gradual silence speaking his name, but the risk of embarrassment was never enough to deter this man from achieving his goals. A simple doorway could not best him, though this particular frame was not about to surrender to his bulk without a fight. Reaching inside with his left arm, he pressed his palm against the interior wall as he angled himself and pushed in with the same shoulder, the top of his skull barely missing the top of the entrance as he did so. With the easy part out of the way, the wandering smith then tried his luck and - with one large stride - stepped inside. Well, that was the plan. Currently, only about a third of his body was actually within the walls of this humble establishment.

"Whatever, old man... C'mon, Wilk. Let's go sort out some food." Leaving her father to his own devices, the young lady strolled towards the counter, steadily rolling the massive shield beside her as she did so. Avoiding eye contact with anyone but the fluffy Lapphund whose wolf-like head she could see beyond the edge of the disk, the girl gave one brief glance backwards to check up upon her father. By now, he had managed to squeeze a little more of himself through, his right shoulder knocking the door frame as he tried to haul himself inside. The sound of the wood straining, and quite possibly splintering from the impact, met her ears. Moving on swiftly, she approached the bar, at which two women seemed to be having some strange little altercation; one of which was the barkeep. On second thought, maybe she was better off waiting for her father to show up.

CRACK

"Oops! Weihehe-ll. Sorry 'bout that!" Now entirely within the inn, the mammoth man stood slightly hunched over with a great palm rubbing the back of his bald head. Behind him, the shape of the doorway was noticeably less rectangular, the sides somewhat splintered and strained apart and the door itself now holding loosely upon its hinges. Well at least it was not entirely broken. Shrugging off the little incident rather swiftly, Mister Wayland went to stand up properly, only to knock his head off the ceiling. As tall as the room was, it was not quite tall enough for him to stand tall and proud, forcing him to squat as he walked towards the bar and took a seat on an empty table (yes, on the table) not far from his daughter and dog.

"Way to go! Now you've gotta pay for that, too!" Helen scolded him, her face visibly reddened as she looked up at him with her sapphire eyes, then diverting her gaze to the barkeeper. "Oi! 'Scuse me! You got a couple o' rooms we can rent? One for my dad and one for me?"

"Eh? What's wrong with sharin' a room, Hel- Oi, Wilk! Geddown from there, boy!" At first questioning his daughter's desire for a room of her own, such thoughts were quickly brought away from the bearded giant's mind as his gaze shifted to that of the large Lapphund that currently stood on his hinds legs. With his front paws resting upon the counter, the wolf-like canine stood with tongue out, panting happily and flopping his tail back and forth. Clearly he could smell the food being cooked, eyeing the bartender rather hopefully with his amber-green eyes. Needless to say, he stood almost as tall as Helen did in his current stance...

[Fluffy Lynx]

WORD COUNT: 807

TAGGED: @lynx

TAGGED:

Waving off Darcy's comment about being a bloody woman, it was obvious that she was pretending either not to have heard, or not to care. Getting smacked upside the head, now that was definitely a man-like-thing to say. Not surprising that she was a brute with her size and figure. Being feminine while looking like that wasn't going to ever fly. Now that she had two bottles of whiskey though, it really didn't matter much. Nor was there any need for her to grind any further onto Darcy. Turning in the barstole for a moment, her eyes caught another person joining in on the evergrowing crowd. A person that she couldn't quite tell what was meant to be. Unlike Darcy, this appeared to  her like the body of a female with the attitude of a man. Eyes twitching, the girl let out a soft sigh. Why couldn't people just straight up be themselves without all this strange commotion and looking like something they're not. Shaking her head a little from side to side, she loosened the ponytail, allowing the dark red hair to fall over her shoulders. Uncorking the bottle, she poured just the bottum of a glass of whiskey. The scent was as one would've expected from a quality ware. While looking at Erica out of the corner of her eyes, she gracefully tipped the glass and drank its content. It sent a small jolt through her body, followed by a strong heat, until everything just became silent. It was some strong stuff, exactly what a girl needed to unhinge a little. Unhinging was something that Amy could definitely use after having spent god knows how long surrounded by nobles and Cormad. Not that Cormad was bad company, in fact he was usually pretty good company.

The only thing more inappropriate than the regular Amelia, was a drunk and completely unhinged Amelia. Gaze following Erica as the other creature started moving across the floor, she was watching disinterestedly as Cormad was getting himself into trouble once again. As far as she could tell, this could turn into something quite amusing extremely quickly. Cormad, singing a duet with someone that was most likely a female. The only thing currently keeping him safe, probably the fact that he didn't seem to realise for his own adrenaline rush. Very amusing. Pouring yet more whiskey and watching them from a distance, something quickly caught her attention. Watching the whiskey in her glass, she could see how it was shaking, almost as if a minor earthquake was heading their way. Then the door was opened, as an enormous woman and dog started to make their way inside. Were these giants?.. Amelia had heard of many different races, yet in reality she hadn't met many of them. Well, if giants were only that size, then it wouldn't be much of a----

Thats exactly when Hector showed up in the door, with the shield being taken inside. Jaw dropping an inch or two, she was just watching with complete amazement as he was squeezing his way through the door. Creaking and bending, it was clear to Amelia that the door wasn't going to hold, and a mere moment later as Hector managed to get through, the whole door was disfigured and bent out of shape. Strong enough to make this kind of impact, while having attempted to be gentle.. There was no doubt that Hector would be able to break Amelia like a twig if he got his hands on her. A scary thought, yet also a very appealing possibility for an ally.

Hector found a place to rest his behind on a table just next to Amelia. Just as the girl was about to introduce herself, as the two Waylander's had stopped discussing, the enormous dog decided to halfway hop up onto the counter just besides Amelia. Looking to the dog, she almost fell off of her spot from simple surprise. From the sheer surprise factor, Amy blurted out: "Holy sh*t you're a big dog, what in the actual..!"

Turning around and drinking the last of her whiskey in one mouthful, she placed the glass onto the table with a gasp, followed by a small pant. For a moment it had felt like her heart had climbed all the way up into her throat. Now though, things were quieting down and she could focus again. Hopefully her food would be done soon so she could go to their rented room. Till then, all she could hope for was that there'd be no bar fight. If she knew Cormad well enough from their brief encounters, he'd love the chance to have a go at someone as large and strong as Hector. Perhaps it was even something that would sell tickets?... Perhaps with the right crowd. This crowd didn't seem to be all too interested in a cockfight.

[Deleted]

 As the smell from the oven moved from sheer heat to the scent of cooked food, Darcy tried her best to studiously ignore the shenanigans occurring behind her. The two visitors had been joined by a third person, and the new, oddly dressed arrival was giving her hopeful eyes, the smell of the beef wellington having apparently attracted her interest. Filling the new orders, she nodded distractedly at Erica. Handing over a mug of ale, she was just turning back around when the girl hopped sat down at the bar and took out her Banjo.

 As her wings spread out, and the jesterish character began strumming a banjo, Darcy shook her head. Why was the inn becoming a nexus for weirdos all of a sudden? She crouched down, and with a careful hand, removed the dishes from the oven. Placing them on the stovetop, she cut carefully, letting the heat escape, and began placing the sides onto plates. As the meals were assembled, she heard the musician already on stage yelling at the banjo player. 

 She was just about to turn around and tell them both to stop making a nuisance of themselves, when from the doorway emerged three very large people, one of them forcing himself through the door like a bowling ball through a keyhole. Her face went slack for a moment, and then her body crashed downward, head landing in hands with a loud smack. 

 Picking up a bell from beneath the counter, she rang it wearily, and called out "You three, grub's on. Musical types, stow the egos and either get along, or get off the stage. Girl, remember to actually pay for that booze, and trio of tallish persons, please, please try not to break anything." 


OOC: Brief thing here, because this is kinda starting to piss me off. Darcy doesn't look like a man. Three different people have written posts that make it sound like she's got a frigging beard or some other thing that would make people assume she's male, which makes me assume none of you have bothered to look at her profile or pay attention to my description of here. Because apparently I need to clarify this further, Darcy looks, more or less, like this, but with green eyes and freckles. While she's wearing a sailor-ish outfit, and not a more feminine one, she's not particularly manly looking at all in physical terms

[Kami-Gaz]

Erica was looking to the bar as her drink was being served, a smile on her face behind her mask and her banjo in her hands she was happy as can be, though she did not notice Cormad’s song ending due to her little strum. However, she did notice the guitar fly between her and Darcy and into the wall, showing them both with splinters and dust; he had thrown that with enough power to knock the little jester out cold if it hit her dead on. Her first reaction was to shoot a look over to the cry baby of a man who throw the guitar then back to Darcy. “Can I get a straw with this?” She asked in a quiet voice before listening to the man blubber about not interrupt him. She would sit there and listen, though not really taking what he said in, nor did she take the chance to reply to him in the silence that followed his first outburst. She would remain still with the little banjo in her arms cradled like a small child.


"If you're so intent on playing, why don't you come up to the stage and do so! That guitar was cheap and I bet your Banjo is an instrument not worth its weight!"


This was the trigger that set the girl off, her banjo, just like her mask, was all that was left from her world in the clouds. While the man was sitting down with the next chunk of his rant Erica would raise the banjo up and position it like a rifle, her finger found its way to the trigger that was at the base of the stem. Then she pulled it, the loud *Thonk*was very quickly followed by a little *click*, and in the wall behind the giant musical cry baby was a bolt that had impacted with a loud *Thud*, the same bolt had flown between his arm and torso through the smallest of gaps. The next sound to really fill the room was the cracking of the inns door frame, this did not move Erica though, she just had her eyes on Cormad and her banjo pointed at his head.


“You! You think because zis is just a banjo zhat it is worthless non?” The girl growled, forgetting to mask her own voice with the feigned deepness of a man, her French sounding tones showed anger and annoyance, just like he was feeling towards the interruption. It was one thing to insult her as a person she would shrug it off laugh and joke along, but this was something she had taken great pride in. “You’re just a petty little man who thinks one practice strum is enough to cancel ze concert, grow up you baby!” She was about to take up this babies offer to play and to show him up royally then the bar woman rang the bell.


Shaking her head Erica snapped out of her little anger filled show, she only now realised that she let her cool go and showed the inn her nasty side. With a long sigh, she would place the banjo on her lap and pick up the ale that was left on the bar for her and press it to the bottom of her mask, with her free hand, she lifted the mask slightly so she could take a big gulp from it. As she drank her wings did a little flap behind her, and the people behind her would stare at how unusual that is. A lot of weird things have happened, the pirate crew walked in followed by a very unusual jester again followed in by the rather tall family and their dog that nearly doubled Erica’s height.


The jester would put her ale down on the bar with a lough hum of satisfaction and look over to the food that was made for her, it smelt amazing and with no doubt would taste it as well. There was on big concern though and that was the wolf like dog that was peering over as if it was trying to get a plate all for itself, it was bigger than half of the animals on her sky island, and would probably put up a better fight than most of the others. “Psst! Hey Big dog, get down, that’s mine.” Her composure was back and her manliness had returned. The sky girl stopped for a second and had a thought. “Hey Giant people… Would I be able to ride your mutt into battle?” She asked with an inquisitive tone whilst peering over her shoulder to Hector, the scene in her head was good enough to make a giant grin spread across her face. “Imagine it, me riding down a hill towards a line of enemy pirates all with big juicy bounties…. That would be a fin fight.”