Shells of a Mermaid - Samheen 27th

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Shells of a Mermaid - Samheen 27th

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Liam Morgan sat on the end of the docks, a small dagger in one hand and his uniform jacket in the other. With a deftness that would have surprised anyone not familiar with the dexterity required of sailors to splice lines and repair sails, Morgan used the tip of the blade to remove all traces of the Navy of the Mouth from the jacket, dropping the bits of embroidery one by one into the brackish water below. He finished and tucked the knife back into the folds of the red sash around his waist, a vestige of the uniform he was too used to (given its utility as a storer of weapons and other useful tools) or too vain to give up.

Shaking out the now bare jacket, he examined his handiwork. Not bad, he determined. Not bad. A few smallish tears here and there where his zeal had outpaced his skill; a few dark patches where the insignia had prevented the cloth beneath from fading along with the rest of the jacket, the area beneath the most recent addition - the stripes of a captain - the closest color to the jacket itself. Between the sun and salt and dirt, it would all be the same color soon enough, he reasoned, scuffing over the fabric with the heel of his hand (helping along with the dirt part) before shrugging it back on and using the sleeve to buff the salt stains from his boots.

He stood up, straightened his cuffs and his collar, and walked into Nether's Gate proper. Between the less than disguised coat and the less than piratical ramrod straight posture, he wasn't exactly incognito, but, then, he didn't exactly care. What he cared about was finding a place to get a drink and a start. Several of the places looked fancy, like the sort of places captains would visit. That wasn't what he wanted -- to be offered a berth and a chance to get to work on someone else's ship. He wanted his own ship and his own terms, and he knew he wasn't going to get that from the uppity sorts who liked to pay extra to have their booze in crystal glasses.

Shells of a mermaid, then, it was.

A red lamp. A creaking sign overhead. A mermaid watched all who entered from the safety of her painted wood. With the seashells dangling down from a string her once modestly covered form now left nothing to the imagination. Those were the first couple of things a person noticed when they came before the crumbling old building that housed the "Shells of a Mermaid" brothel. Once a fine establishment it fell upon rough times after the Red Rash. It was a plain whorehouse now as was evident by the looks of the "lady" that stood before the door. She was a pretty girl, but appeared tired and sad. A dirty dress revealed her ample breasts and uncovered her shapely legs, while a garish makeup adorned her face with a sad but bright red smile upon her lips.

The inside was not much better. A small, dark room with three rough tables. A smell of rancid bear and sour wine mixed with a haze of smoke that obscured the view. The back of the room showed a short bar. A large, black skinned man leaned with disinterest while he pretended to clean it with a filthy rag. Thurbal Adams filled the roles of bartender and bouncer. Several girls sat around waiting for customers to take up to one of the rooms up by the stairs that lay next to the bar.

Shells of a mermaid was a run down brothel frequented by the people who seek cheap love and cheap drinks. Owned and run by Klarissa Corsat it was a place where one might hire a thug, learn a juicy rumor or two and, of course find a woman to soothe one's worries. Klarissa rested in the back room and plotted her dealings there. A very bitter woman, she hated Captain Raven and lived only to see his fall.

Her bartender Thurbal was the man to speak with. He knew everyone and everything. For the right sum of course. The amount of information he gave depended on the enquirer's reputation and the amount of money he was offered. A mountain of a man, he was the one that broke up the frequent sailor fights that errupted. Strangely honorable, he had never cheated a client. On the other hand, if somebody cheated on Thurbal he refused to deal with the person ever again. No amount of sweet talk and money would sway his mind. Too much pressure would only lead to a visit by a few of Thurbal's friends.


Morgan made his way to the bar and leaned against it, waiting to catch the bartender's eye. "A measure of rum, and not a skimpy one," he said.
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Post by Maeve »

With a slam a glass appeared before Liam. It was not of a fine make. No Trothgardian crystal in this joint. However for a good measure of rum it would do, and it was this golden liqued that the burly bartender poured into it.

He was bald, his head so shiny that Liam could see the candle light play on it. For the insides of the Shells was so dark that it needed continual lightening by candles, no matter the time of day. The mermaid of the establishment played a little dance on the bartender's arm, forever tatooed on his arm, as he made pretense of cleaning the tap.

It was still early and it was not busy at the Shells. So Thurbal, the bartender and all around guard of the Shells, wouldn't mind a bit of company. "You new around 'ere?" he asked gruff, a classic opener for a pleasant conversation rogue style.
[i][b][color=orange][size=92]Smile and carry a big stick.[/color][/b][/i][/size]
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Morgan barely paused to inspect the glass or the liquid in it. With a slight nod of acknowledgment, he was reaching for the glass as the bartender was finishing pouring and a few flickers later he had downed the whole of it.

"Aye," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as the golden liquid burned its way down. "So new that I think I did that part back there wrong. Might need to get some more rum and try again. Why don't you pour yourself one and show me how it's done? I promise to get it right this time," he said with a crooked grin.

"Is it that obvious, then?" He shrugged. "Got tired of leading a glamorous life of leisure," he said drily while waiting for the bartender to pour another round. "Thought I'd come down to the docks and try to make an honest living." He paused. "Although perhaps without the 'honest' part," he added thoughtfully.
Last edited by Guest on Fri Apr 14, 2006 11:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Maeve
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Post by Maeve »

The burly man laughed, putting down another poorly formed glass and filling up both of them with a well endowed measure of rum. "Yeah, I can tell yer finding your way about town. Must be they.. ah.. strangely underdressed uniform." He winked at Liam before downing his rum in one swill, waiting for the sailor to do the same before adding more rum to both glasses. "Thurbal, Thurbal Adams. Welcome to the Nether's Gate mate."

"Dunno much about honest living, but some good money can be made on one of the crews. Several are hiring," Thurbal said conversationally, leaning on the tap "There is da Black Doom of Captain Bayton, and of course da Lady Rose, though Captain Darkheart is out on da Mer right now. Been expectin' him back since yestertide but there is some kinda hold up. You could even try the Crusader, but Captain Cyprian insists on cremembers following Dominicus. He's strange about that."
[i][b][color=orange][size=92]Smile and carry a big stick.[/color][/b][/i][/size]
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"Aye," said Morgan darkly. "I can see how that would give it away." For a moment it was as though a cloud had passed over his mood, but miraculously the second round of rum did much to dispell that cloud.

"Liam Morgan," he said. "Thanks for the welcome and the instruction on the finer points of drinking, mate. I think I've just about got the hang of it now -- but you know they say that practice makes perfect..."

He listened to the list of captains presented by the bartender, rubbing one hand over his close-cropped hair thoughtfully. "Well, I haven't no trouble with following Dominicus, though I may have some trouble with bein' <i>told</i> to follow him." He paused to knock back the most recent addition to the glass. "Gets better every time," he said musingly, in the serious tone that a conoisseur of the finer wines of Kislovan might use, then squinted at Thurbal.

"So what can you tell me about them three? The real goods? I don't but doubt you know what there is to be told. Don't very much fancy the thought of getting stuck out there on the deep with someone you can't stand. That... rarely ends well, y'know?"
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Post by Maeve »

Thurbal laughed, a strange high pitch note that contrasted sharpy to his bulky build "You wanna know more eh? Well here is a bit of free information. Darkheart.. he's trouble. Arrogant to a fault. Real ladies man. He'll seduce the Queen and think he can get away with it.. hahaha." Thurbal leaned forward to entrust to Liam "Not really popular in all corners of Nether's Gate here. He's the leading captain, and he brokes no mutiny. Sharp man to have gathered the remaining forces of the Pirate's Duchy afther the Thane left, yet.. not everybody forgot the murder of Captain Storm. The Trident of Storm, The Thane and Darkheart was broken by treachery and many a person in the shadows wonders who he'll betray next. There are forces.." Thurbal looked around to check nobody was listening "there are forces in the Nether's Gate who would surely like to see him get his come uppance."

The bald man leaned back, taking another rum filled swill and offering to fill up Liam's glass once again "Captain Bayton.. he doesn't hold with that. Next upcoming man.. captain Bayton. Ambitious. He's more into crashing ships than into smugglin' but he's one of the few to make a nice sum of money out of it. Captain Cyprian, well" Thurbald shrugged "He'd just as soon kill a crew and next you know he's got his whole crew in a sermon on the One. Strange one that. Yet, he's succesful with his raids.
[i][b][color=orange][size=92]Smile and carry a big stick.[/color][/b][/i][/size]
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Morgan grinned as Thurbal ran down the list. What a wonderful thing bartenders were! Founts of information and alcohol, both never running dry.

"Quite a cast of characters, eh? The religious maniac, the ship-smasher, and the one with all the enemies." He shook his head.

"Doesn't make sense to me, though," he said, leaning in slightly, having noticed Thurbal's sudden caution "-- tough lot like you all, this Darkheart fellow not universally loved. Why hasn't anyone done anything about it?" He raised his eyebrows at Thurbal and nonchalantly emptied the glass the bartender had only just filled.
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To Morgan’s query the barman drew back and shrugged, refilling the glasses with an absent-minded hand even as he did so. “Some ‘ave likely tried, mate, but none with enough power behind their backs or wind in their sails to actually succeed. Here in da ’Gate Captain Darkheart is da head man, ya see- takes a lot to go up against something like that. Some ’ere would rather not get into fights they don’t think can be won, and some would rather leave all da fighting to others. Not everyone is against ’im.” Downing his rum in one quick guzzle, Thurbal then took a moment to survey the remaining expanse of the establishment, ensuring that everything was in order and that no vagrant ears were listening in where they shouldn’t be prior to leaning forwards again.

“Then again, all it would take is a…a <I>catalyst</I>, and we’d ‘ave a nice mutiny on our hands. Someone with enough power and ambition to go up against Captain Darkheart, and with a chance to come out on top, ta boot. This Bayton character, fer instance.” A toothy grin was exuded at that, inset with the slightest hint of conspiracy as the last of his words were spoken. His breath smelled strongly of the alcohol now- a good enough sign that he had drinking rather a lot up until this point- but apparently, and in spite of that, it did not look as though the proverbial tap was going to run dry anytime soon.

<I>OOC: Hey there! I’ll be commandeering this thread for the time being. ;)</I>
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Morgan smiled at Thurbal's words and his conspiratorial tone, a smile that somehow seemed less pleasant than had his earlier ones. "For instance," he repeated genially, the wolfish look leaving his face almost as soon as it had arrived as he downed the glass of rum again.

Morgan had himself been drinking rather a lot as well, and with this his thi-fou-whatever-it-was drink he was beginning to feel it. For the first time in...whatever-it-was, he wasn't thinking about the past, wasn't letting his mind spiral back over and over again over things that had been. No, his mind was firmly focused on the future now, with that single-mindedness of purpose given to the inspired and the intoxicated, and from where he was sitting the future felt about as warm and golden as he did right now.

"This Bayton character seems like quite the fellow," he said, scratching his chin. The thought that he really could use a shave entered into his mind and was hustled out promptly by his liquid single-mindedness. "What's his story, then?"

OOC: Hello there, and welcome aboard!
Last edited by Guest on Sun Apr 16, 2006 2:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Liam’s interest had by now strongly piqued Thurbal’s sense of delight; well, that and the fact that the rum was flowing so freely. Laying both hands, palms flat against the surface of the bar before him, the big human merely smiled at Liam at first, another quick glance left and right adding to the wonderful sense of conspiracy that had now grown, prior to speaking once again. “I can tell ya what the average seadog knows, surely, but any more than that is going ta start costing ya- can’t be giving away all my precious knowledge fer free now, after all.” The burly man let slip a suitably low and baritone chuckle at that, presumably amused in some way by his own words. Indeed, Thurbal was relatively well known in these parts as being a constant font of knowledge, even if not usually as forthcoming as this. Perhaps he had taken a shining to this newcomer here before him now, or perhaps he had simply been dipping too much into his own brew…either way it did not matter, and Morgan could probably have cared less.

“Hmm, now let’s see…Bayton…young fella, like yerself, which likely explains how ambitious he is. Wasn’t too well known before that last raid into da Mer, come ta think of it. Dresses all fancy-like, that he does- way of showing off all that coin he has, no doubt…a pirate king in his own right. I also hear he has quite the temper on him, though I can’t say I’ve been lucky enough to see <I>that</I> firsthand.” A wonky smile manifested itself upon the bartender’s face at that; a musing kind of thing which accompanied the refilling of their once-again empty glasses, should Liam have wished for it.

“Rumour is that he weren’t the first Captain of the Black Doom- that he was once crew, pure and simple, but that he was the one behind the mutiny that saw the last Captain meet his briny end.” A shrug and unchanged colloquial tone of voice both hinted that this was perhaps quite a common occurrence here in Nether’s Gate; unsurprising, really, considering that this <I>was</I> a pirate town and all.

In fact, Thurbal was relaxed as relaxed could be, raising his glass to his lips once more before placing it back upon the surface of the bar, an easy smile stretched across his rugged countenance as he did so. “In any case, ambitious character like that…will only be a matter of time ‘fore he decides to make a stand against Captain Darkheart. Interestin’ times ahead, I’d wager.” A slight twinkle lighted the man’s dark eyes for a flicker then, before fading once more into nothingness as Thurbal waited for the other to down his drink, and to otherwise respond.
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"Costing me?" said Liam, giving Thurbal a wounded look that was only partially feigned. "And here I thought we were becoming such good friends, eh? Why don't you think of it less as... giving away information for free, and more of... making a long-sighted investment in the future successes of a friend who will always help them that helped him?"

While he waited to see Thurbal's reaction to his half-serious comment, Morgan was doing some fairly laborious figures in his head pertaining to the coins in his pocket, the price of a glass of rum, the number of said glasses that had been consumed, and the likely cost of information versus the likely utility of that information. Ordinarily he was quite good with numbers (to the extent that "'more' is better than 'less'" constitutes "good with numbers"), but for some reason the math was taking him a little bit longer at present.

He gave himself a respite from his calculations to listen to Thurbal's discussion of Bayton. The more he heard, the less he thought he liked the sound of the guy, but he was clearly a force to be reckoned with, and if there was one thing Morgan had respect for it was force. The wise course of action at this moment would have been to pass on Thurbal's offer of another round, but, then, he had never been much good at wise courses, and he could hope at least that the flowing of the rum was helping the flowing of information, at least a little.

"So he's got the ambition, then," he said, "but does he have the support of them that matter? I haven't been around much, sure, but from the looks of things" -- here he made an expansive gesture with the hand holding the glass of rum, from which only about half the rum made it back intact within the glass -- "I wouldn't want to make any action here without knowing that I had the right friends in the right places, you know?" He gave the bartender a conspiratorial grin to indicate that he, of course, considered Thurbal one of those crucial friends no one should be without.
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To Morgan’s words of half-pretence the bald man drew his head back and laughed; a hearty, long-lived chuckle which clearly belied the driving force of emotion held behind it. Not condescending in manner, nor chiding in the face of limited posturing, it was in fact quite genuine, and a good sign as far as the newcomer to Nether’s Gate could be concerned. Dabbing at an invisible speck of sweat beading his forehead, Thurbal retorted at first with a simple, “Aye, aye…” allowing his snickering to come to a close before moving on to voice something which was much more forthcoming in kind. “I suppose ye are a good customer…can’t fault ya there. And ya seem ta have gotten yer drinking technique down well, ta boot.” A pause permitted time for a generously wide smile; evidently the barman agreed with Morgan’s words to a point, and would continue to dispense freely with the information, if only for now.

“But ah…future successes, is it? Got something planned yerself then, have ya, mate?” Whilst waiting for an answer to that, Thurbal busied his mind in coming up with an answer to the other’s latest query. Not an action which took overly long, even in spite of how much knowledge must have been stored up there within the recesses of his rather intoxicated brain.

“Them that matter? Well now…he has his crew, an’ they seem like a contented little bunch under him. The bounty he made out at sea has also done him a fair few favours- he’s earned a lot of respect, and a good amount of the other local Captains would likely support him if things came to a fight, not to mention those who hate Darkheart to begin with. Perhaps he doesn’t have as much backing behind ’im as Captain Darkheart does, but then Bayton ain’t stupid enough to sail right into a war of numbers and the like.” A few flickers of silence were apparently home to some musing on Thurbal’s part, as his eyes rolled back a little in his head, and his gaze became fixated on the high wooden ceiling. “Nah…if I understand his character rightly, then he’ll be more subtle…more cunning-like. Try to weaken Darkheart first, before moving to take him down, ya know?”

The burly man placed the bottle of rum down at that point- after, of course, refilling glasses again if such thing was wanted- prior to taking up his rag and half-heartedly swatting at the counter before him. The slight splattering of rum on the surface caused by Morgan’s exertions with the drink became nought but a distant memory within less than a flicker of time, before Thurbal decided to add another point to what had already been said. “Captains Darkheart and Bayton are two of the big players here in the ‘Gate. The other would be Captain Cyprian, and who knows where he’d stand if things came to a fight, if at all.” The religious fanatic was possibly the least…well, <I>stable</I> of the bunch, after all, especially now that he had found his faith in Domenicus.
Last edited by Guest on Mon Apr 17, 2006 9:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Morgan ducked his head in false modesty as Thurbal pointed out his growing prowess with that tricky drinking business. "Oh, well, I had a good teacher, didn't I, then," he said.

"Something planned? No, no, I'm no planner" he said, somewhat disingenuously. "Beyond, that is, planning to aim to be a success and not a failure. I think that's a reasonable goal, eh?"

Disingenuous indeed: as Thurbal continued to speak, the wheels of his mind (well-lubricated by this point) were beginning to grind. So this Raven fellow was hanging in more thanks to inertia than any real ability or popularity, and Bayton had big ideas and a small crew. And Cyprian -- well, Cyprian was a wild card. That could be of use to him -- or it could prove able to trip him up at inopportune times. Bloody nether, thought Liam. He'd planned to escape religion and its fanatics by coming here. Maybe he had been only partially disingenuous with Thurbal -- maybe it wasn't that he wasn't a planner -- maybe he just wasn't very bloody good at planning.

As he thought about all the captains, all the moving pieces they represented, he straightened his cuffs idly, cuffs that seemed to him glaringly bare now without all his insignia. It pained him to look at them. It pained him in his soul.

Damn it. "In his soul?" He was starting to get maudlin, which was as sure a sign as any that he would have to let this most recent round of rum go unattended. Instead he grunted, and ran his finger along the rim of the glass, looking down at its contents longingly.

"So Darkheart's on the Mer. The other two? Are they here in the Gate now, or are they trying their fortunes on the seas? Almost pity the man -- Bayton that is -- how do you make a living at sail and be all cunning-like at home? I dunno -- maybe he has someone here looking to affairs for him, you think? But then I guess he'd have to be a clever sort too, that one." He shook his head in slow wonderment at what must be the many talents of Captain Bayton, the sort of wonderment that loves to be told more. "More than a poor sailor like me can think of at one time -- just keep the sail full of air and the purse full of coin, right, Thurbal?" He grinned and gave the purse at his side a shake as though unconsciously (though not entirely so), the music the coins made clacking against each other acting as a nice counterpoint to his words.
Last edited by Guest on Tue Apr 18, 2006 5:07 am, edited 1 time in total.
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The man nodded his agreement to Morgan’s words concerning planning and good plans, inspecting the surface of his counter with only a mildly interested eye prior to hiding the rag away, attention focussed solely upon the other once more. “Tis a good goal to be having, that much is true. The only plan ye’ll ever need, in my simple and honest opinion- everything else just has a nasty habit of complicating things up.” A resigned sort of smile hinted that perhaps Thurbal was not one to engage in such thoughts on too regular a basis, if only for the sake of staying out of trouble. He was a barman, a bouncer, and a seller of information…that was his lot in life, and he was quite happy for it to stay that way.

Noting that Morgan was refraining from taking in any more of the rum, the bartender let slip a wonky sort of grin, even though he did not choose to outwardly voice his opinion on the matter. Best to keep quiet in lieu of pushing things too far, after all, and his current customer had already had rather a lot to drink.

“Bayton’ll be around somewhere…the Red Jewel, perhaps, or at the Scarlet Hydra, if not with his ship at the docks or at his home here in the ‘Gate. Cyprian, however, is a harder man to keep track of. If he ain’t out at sea then he’ll be here in Nether’s Gate, rooting out pagans and bullying people into kneeling before the One god. ‘Course, if that is the case then it’s more likely you’ll hear ‘im before seeing.” Those last words were spoken in jest, of course, though there was a very firm underlying hint of truth to Thurball’s words. Cyprian by nature was not a compassionate priest or humbly pious man; he was a pirate through and through and, unfortunately for many living here in the ‘Gate, pirates and religion were two things which simply did not match.

To Morgan’s last statement the burly man simply grinned, dark eyes twinkling as his agreement with the words shone through. “Aye…we certainly have an accord there, mate. Me? I prefer to just let others do all the thinking.” Hearing the pleasant cacophony of coins jingling in a purse, Thurbal then reduced the intensity of his smile to something far more presentable and polite, prior to speaking again. “Is…ah…is there anything else I can be helping you with, mate?”
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Morgan chuckled casually as Thurbal explained how to find the captains in question, particularly the rather interesting Captain Cyprian. Things were starting to take shape in his mind, thanks in large part to the helpful bartender.

But how much help would he be going forward? Good for a few drinks, some choice bits of information -- but what kind of man was he, and how much could Liam trust him?

"We have an accord indeed," said he, and gave the bald man a genuine smile. "The only thing that I think you can help me with is maybe making this load a little lighter, eh, mate?" He stood up and reached for his purse, painstakingly counting out the coins for the drinks the two men had had, making a point to act the unsteady, less-than-fully-on-his-game drunk. It was not, needless to say, entirely an act at the moment.

He was lucid enough to count out the correct number of coins, assuming that the price of a drink was more or less the same as in the similar bars he had frequented in the past; lucid enough to add on the correct number of coins for a generous, though not extravagant tip; and lucid enough still to add on two coins beyond that in blatant overpayment.

He let his grip slip so that he nearly lost the coins before slapping them onto the counter with a resounding clatter. "There..." he said, squinting down at the coins. "After all those drinking lessons I'm going to need some counting lessons, I reckon..." He looked down again at the coins and then back up at Thurbal. "Will that do it, then, mate?" he said, his expression that of the guileless drunk. If Thurbal kept the extra coins or if he gave them back was of no great concern to him from a financial perspective -- but it would tell him something about Thurbal, which was of some concern to Liam at the present moment.

With the matter of payment resolved, Liam straightened his cuffs once again and prepared to walk out of the bar with a last farewell to Thurbal before setting off through the Gate in search of the famous Captain Cyprian, ears wide open for the sounds of sermonizing.
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Thurbal watched in thoroughly rapt silence as the coin was counted out, doing the arithmetic in his head as each chink of metal was pulled forth. A light frown flickered across his dark features as he noted just how much money Morgan was taking out, before fading entirely as this observation fell in line with that of the man’s currently rather sloshed condition. The near scattering of coins prior to them hitting the counter proper was enough to confirm acceptance in the man, whose big hands then moved to draw the things much closer to his own person. Counting briefly over the coins again, Thurbal then awarded Morgan with a friendly enough smile, followed swiftly by the pushing back of only some of the pennies in question. Whilst not the full amount extra that the man had paid in feigning his drunken condition, (Thurbal’s opinion of ‘generous’ was evidently much loftier than that of Morgan’s here) it would perhaps still aid the sailor in establishing his judgment of the man on a whole.

“Aye, but drinking is the better skill ta have of the two, wouldn’t ya say?” He responded cheerfully to Morgan’s words concerning the lessons learnt, and indeed, those which yet needed to be learnt. Another quick flash of a smile, and the money proffered him earlier had vanished, tucked safely away to be dealt with by the owner of the Mermaid later on. Then, a curt and purposeful nod towards the few coins that had been left behind before the man spoke again, words spoken bluntly and yet with enough compassion to mark Morgan as someone whose presence was not on the whole too unwelcome. “There ya go, mate…best to get those counting lessons from someone else, mind- not really a subject I’m much fer teaching, ya know?”

Grinning, the almost-whites of his teeth contrasting quite wonderfully with the darkened tone of his skin, Thurbal then moved on to address Morgan’s farewell with another one of his own, idly taking up the cloth again as he did so. “Don’t be a stranger, now. Ya might be a decent enough drinker, but there’s still room fer improvement yet!”

In all honesty Thurbal was rather curious to see how Morgan would do here in the ‘Gate, though the likelihood was that he would gather most of the man’s fate through the talk of his customers as opposed to hearing it from the proverbial horse’s mouth, especially if he happened to have high plans for himself. Hiring on with one of the more renowned pirates was likely to generate some manner of talk in any case so, in essence, it really was all just a matter of simply…waiting.

OOC: Thankees- will have a new thread up for your searching sometime in the very near future. ;)
Last edited by Guest on Wed Apr 19, 2006 4:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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OOC: Thread has now been skilled and closed! :D
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