Brita walks into the bar. She glances around, sniffing slightly as if at the décor and then beelines for Raven's table. "Captain," she says as she sits down.
Raven nods in greeting. "Good to see you," she answers. "I was thinking I should come find you, actually. Don't suppose you're done with the other thing you were doing?"
A glance around the bar will reveal a figure sitting at a corner table, working his way through a meal and a large mug of something very strong and with a lot of calories. It would appear that cousin Jerod is keeping an eye on other things, though he does notice Brita's arrival, as well as whether anyone else notices her arrival.
Brita nods to Raven's question. "I Have finished my Task. Is Your Merchant still keeping you Running?" she tilts her head towards the corner.
Raven snorts. "Aye, I suppose you could say that. Been looking for some extra friends. Speaking of - where'd yours get off to?"
"Who Knows. He was In My Hair Enough during my Task, but Eventually got Bored, I guess," Brita does not roll her eyes although she does glance around the room. "Can I Help You Search for a while?"
"Aye, I wouldn't mind some help. Supposed to be some mages around here that might be helpful for us, but I can't say as how I'm the best person to go poking around magic things." Raven glances towards the table in the corner and tilts her head towards their own table slightly.
His meal finished with impeccable timing, Jerod pulls a few coins from his purse and drops them onto the table as he rises, adjusting his belt before heading over to Raven's table.
"How goes Uncle duty?" Jerod asks to Brita quietly after sitting himself down.
Brita rolls her eyes. "If I Ever Turn into An Uncle, Please just Run Me Through with a Sword. I think They Must have a Class in 'Being Annoying to the Younger Generation.' He Did have some Interesting Musings on my Painting, Though. How are Your Dealings Progressing?"
Jerod pauses momentarily, looking at his nordic cousin with an expression that screams "so many responses, so little time" before saying. "You may rest assured that should you become an Uncle, I will not hesitate to end your misery." with a slight smile.
Raven snorts, but it's quiet.
"My dealings are proceeding." he says, continuing a quiet tone. "I'll find out soon enough if the Lord here is going to listen to my alter-ego on how to deal with Dexamene or have me arrested for treason. If you see meteors come crashing down from the sky, you may assume the latter.
"The good captain decided to pursue a line of thought on local hedge mages, see if there are any options to be obtained, so I decided to stay in the background for a bit to see how things work. This might be more up your alley though. My knowledge of Sorcery is limited to how to shut it off if possible."
"And I'm guessing that's going to cause a stir," Raven agrees dryly. "Which we might want to stay away from until we figure out if we need the meteors or not." She looks at Brita. "Want to help me find out if they're really angry or why, or if that was just soldiers talking?"
"Certainly!" Brita responds. "My Knowledge of Sorcery is Minimal compared to Some of My Kin, But I Can Stir Up Trouble with the Best of Them. What is Your Approach, Captain? I will Follow Your Lead."
"I've been working the idea that I'm new in town and in need of some friends," Raven answers. "Don't see as how that'd be a terrible way to start. Just need to figure out who's magical and might be interested in being friendly first. And if they're not interested in being friends - well, then we find out what's got them angry instead."
Brita nods and surveys the room, counting heads. "One way to Make Friends in a Bar is to Buy A Round," she notes. "Could it be Pay Day for the Good Captain?" she asks Jerod.
"Clearly the only reason she likes me is because of my money belt." Jerod says to Raven drily as he looks at Brita, pulling a pouch from a cloak pocket and putting it on the table for Raven. Even at a cursory glance, the pouch is stuff sufficiently that one can afford quite a lot in this establishment.
"That should cover what you need to make some impressions. If we need to go more impressive, we can arrange for gemstones. Takes a little more effort though and I don't want to be too noticeable if you get my drift."
Brita bats her eyes at Jerod and says in a perky little voice (albeit softly), "Certainly, Sugar Pop!" then she grins mischievously. She turns to Raven, "So, Captain. What do You Wish to Do with Your Windfall?"
Raven does a pretty credible job of looking like a captain on payday - very, very credible. Still, she gives Brita an amused glance and a snort. "This'll more than do to start. I'd say it's time to buy a round and see who cares about who bought it." She eyes Jerod. "You may want to vanish, or at least be less... here. Ain't a good captain out there that'll get too relaxed with the boss around."
"Call if you need me." Jerod says, nodding once to Brita before departing. He will arrange to take up a temporary post close by the establishment, so that if things start to go wonky he can decide if he wants to get involved.
Jerod departs and stays within earshot (for large enough shots) and waits for things to go pear-shaped. He remains ready for trouble, from any direction it may choose to manifest itself. He's an equal opportunity opportunist after all...
Brita watches Jerod leave and then turns to Raven with a big grin. She raises a hand and lets out a whistle, ostensibly to attract a bar maid's attention, and calls out "A Bottle of Your Finest Wine for the Good Captain Beam and Myself - We are Celebrating!!"
Raven nods and adds, "Aye!"
In a lower voice, she adds to Brita, "We'll buy a round after this." She snorts and pokes the bag with a finger. "Just not the finest. Ain't that much in here."
The woman comes over and brings a bottle of wine with her. "Sounds like you got get news," she says with a smile. The wine is pretty good, although it has a strange, almost metallic aftertaste.
Brita chews on the wine a bit, swallows, and then gives a snort herself. "Not My Style," she notes. "I'm more of a Mead Woman, Myself. I'll Let You Order the Next Round."
"Ales here, but can't say as how it hurts to try something new," Raven answers. She smiles at the barmaid. "Is 'got paid' good news? What's this stuff called, anyway?"
She smiles. "Honey, getting' paid is always good news." She leans down. "If you're looking to gamble on the game, I'll show you how to get through the back door."
"Oooo! A Game!" Brita's eyes are practically glowing as she grins a Conner-Watt smile at Raven.
Raven grins. "Aye, lead the way."
And because Raven knows exactly how these things work, she picks out a reasonable amount for the barmaid's time and effort. As soon as there's a decent chance to do so without being obvious to everyone else, she'll pass it over. (Unless she wants it that obvious, of course...)
The woman takes it with a smile and says “Don't bet on Hat-hatul. He's on a losing streak."
She leads them to a door in the back, and nods at the man who opens it. "I'll be back after they get the match going."
The doorman turns out to be a big guy. Not big like the weir, but a good head above the average Gatwegan. "Evening folks, welcome to the Pit. House rules all bets come though me. Main match starts in a quarter watch. Hat-hatul, the champion, taking on Slagfirth the Finn. If you want my advice, you should put your money of Hat-hatul. He looks like a winner." His smile is clearly that of a bookie -- the house wins no matter who else does. "Or you could take a longshot bet on a number. Payout is very high if you win..."
Behind the doorman is, literally, a pit. It looks similar to a courtyard-sized amphitheater, and the central "stage" is divided up in to concentric circles and spokes, like a dart board. There are two elevated chairs on either end of the pit.
People are sitting at tables around the pit. They're in small groups and it's clear that there's a rivalry between the fans and supporters of Hat-hatul and those of Slagfirth. The two competitors have not yet taken the field.
"What do you think?" Raven asks Brita. "How lucky do we feel?"
"With a Name like Slagfirth, he Has to be an Underdog. Let's bet on Him to make him Feel Better," Brita grins. She moves to get a pit-side spot between the two factions.
"Done and done," Raven says, with a snort of amusement. "This on Slagfirth, if you please." She hands over her best guess at a reasonable bet and then follows Brita. She's curious about just what, exactly, they're betting on...
The doorman takes their wager and has them led to a table which overlooks the ring. "Your man is on in the third card."
A man appears in a flash in the center of the ring. It might've been flash powder or perhaps some brief magic. Lights shine on him and his voice is very loud.
"Welcome, welcome," says the MC, "Thirdsday Night is the night for the Bird Game. You can all see the board, you've bet on the board. If the bird craps in your square, why then you win! Someone has lucky number 3, someone always has lucky number three...
"But, it's not a game of luck, my magian friends, no no. Because the board is surmounted by two competitors, who will try to control the bird. If the bird comes to them, they win, and so does anyone who bet on them! Some of you will be winners tonight!"
"From the Ironbound, the challenger, that clever mage, Slagfirth the Northerner!" There is some applause, but most people seem more intent on drinking, Some of them are drinking heavily, and almost all are smoking. There's a mostly-clean ashtray at the table, and it smells of something sweet, not acrid.
"The champion, returning for his third consecutive defense, Hat-Hatul!" Hat-Hatul gets more applause than the challenger, but it is a Thirdsday, so the crowd is somewhat sparse.
"We'll give you all time to place last-minute wagers and order another round while we bring out the bird. Enjoy the match!"
The MC walks away and two assistants bring out a cage, perhaps 8 feet tall and covered with a blanket. Inside it are two very large feet.
Your waitress comes back. "You folks need another round? It gets sorta busy here during the match..." It doesn't look like it does get too busy, but perhaps the owners told her to say that.
Brita smiles at the waitress. "An Ale for me, please. Also - Can you Tell me about The Bird we are betting on." She tilts her head towards the pit. "And Is it Always the Same Game?"
"Aye, and another for me," Raven says. "Is anyone allowed to compete, or is there a roster?"
"On a Thirdsday? Anyone can, long as you're willing to try to control the bird's mind. You have to win a weeknight to be invited to the tournament of champions.
"Still, I heard they've got a real champion-style bird for tonight. An emuraptor, from deep jungle. Noisy thing.
"If you're gonna compete, you need to know the final escape. If one of the competitors is about to lose, they can try to make the bird attack the other. If he gets too mauled to continue, he loses.
"Would you like me to get you signed up for a match?"
"Let me See whether it Looks Entertaining first and I will let you Know," Brita responds.
Raven nods. "What the lady said. Ain't of a mind to make a fool of myself at a game I've never seen. Anybody playing ever get killed, or is it safer than it sounds?"
The waitress smiles, although it's somewhat forced. "If the other magician has the bird attack, yes. Emuraptors are dangerous, and some of 'em are just mean. The biggest danger is when the competitors are closely matched in skill. The finals are where people put side bets on maulings."
Brita has nothing further. She will watch both factions as we wait for the fight, opening her third eye to scan the crowd and field.
Raven snorts. "Aye, that's what I thought. Just because I'm wondering - the birds stick around long enough to get names from the crowd, or are they trash or somebody's fancy dinner pretty fast?"
She nods. "Some of 'em. Sometimes. The weak ones, well, their heads explode. You can place a side-bet on that, but I wouldn't. Not tonight. Luckily nobody wants to eat the head. We try to keep the strong ones around. For tournaments and special events."
Once her curiosity on that point is satisfied, Raven will also sit back to watch the crowd and the match.
The bird is in place, and they remove the cage walls. It still has a blindfold on, but seems otherwise unrestrained. It's hard to imagine this bird flying, because it's heavyset and its legs look to be all muscle. It's easy to imagine it leaping from the pit to the rafters and from there down into the crowd to kill every person in the place. From the wicked looking beak to the cruel talons, it's hard to imagine a bird being any more murderous.
Someone at the next table says "I'm gonna change my bet to the bird." Her whole table laughs, but the bird looks anything but safe.
The two magicians who come forward to challenge the game look as if they hadn't expected quite this much of a bird.
The opposing wizards are on opposite ends of the room. They each have a slightly elevated chair, more on the order of "bar stool" than "life guard stand", and they are holding their hands in front of them.
In a voice that seems magically amplified, the announcer introduces them, and hurries out of the ring. The blindfold is removed from the bird, and it's free in the ring.
Its squawk shakes the table, and it seems pleased with the concern it has raised in the crowd. The bird wanders over to a basket of raw meat, and begins tearing into it. The table next to Brita and Raven has a side bet on a long chase, so they're excited about it.
Slagfirth stands on his chair and shouts something at the bird. It's unclear if he's casting a spell or just trying to get its attention.
It occurs to both Brita and Raven that as pattern initiates they have the power to determine certain actions to be probable. It would be possible to fix this game, and almost certainly untraceably.
Brita is Absolutely Positive that This Bird is Female - look at how she Ignores the Squawking of the wizard to tend to what is Important. She wonders how long the bird has been mistreated - malnourished and without Pure Water to drink to make for more Agressive entertainment. Brita will Watch to see if the Wizards begin to mistreat the bird.
Hard to say. Clearly it was chained and blindfolded and is not free to roam in whatever environment such a creature normally does, but it doesn't seem to have any scars that would indicate recent mistreatment at human hands. And this mind-control doesn't seem kind, either.
Raven - having strong feelings on the subject of cheating at a game where she's not using her own money and (at the moment) only cares about the outcome because she should probably look like she does - is much more interested in the crowd and what they view as appropriate encouragement of the players and the bird.
There seems to be some sort of magical net to prevent the patrons from flinging bottles at the contestants, so it's mostly words. Given the state of the tables and barstools, it looks as if the bar regularly has fights, which may be over the proceedings below. In fact, they may get more interesting than the match, if the wizards don't get on with things.
Slagfirth looks surprised when the Emuraptor doesn't start moving towards him. And states his spell or challenge again, louder and more slowly.
The bird picks at something in her feathers. And someone in the crowd 'boos' the wizards.
Brita laughs loud - a typical Asgardian laugh. She calls out to Slagfirth, "Ask Her Nicely and Maybe She'll Listen." And Brita is sure that will be the case....
Raven eyes her, smiling in a bemused way. "You do realize," she says dryly, "that that's the one we bet on, aye? Or are we changing that to the bird now?"
"Just Seeing if he is Moldable - If he Listens, He Wins. If Not, He is a Fool," Brita notes with a shrug.
Raven snorts. "Pretty sure there's easier ways to court him, if that's what you're after," she says, still smiling. "Is saying it slower and louder if it don't work the first time something that's supposed to work in magic?"
Slagfirth hears Brita and looks annoyed. He casts a spell that causes a glob of stinky purple goo to fling at their table. It turns on the barrier is two way, as the goo dissolves upon reaching the edge of the ring. Slagfirth's lack of appreciation of hecklers is clear and he returns to concentrating on the Emuraptor.
Hat-Hatul laughs, and begins crooning towards the bird. It looks at him, and takes a step in his direction.
Brita notes to Raven, "Saying it Slower and Louder works as Well in Magic as in Talking to Anyone who Can't Understand Your Language." To Slagfirth she calls, "See - a Little Respect for the Queen of Birds Could gain You the Prize!"
Slagfirth stops, and what he says is amplified just like MC's was. "Wait your turn, I can only deal with one shrieking bird at a time!" A number of nearby partisans laugh at his comment.
He does something which causes a bright flash of light between the raptor and Hat-Hatul. The bird steps back towards Slagfirth.
"Oooo! I Like This one - he Has Gumption, taking on a Goddess!" Brita notes to Raven. Back to Slagfirth, she says with her more amplified Goddess voice, "Show us Better Parlor Tricks, Magician, or you Might Lose it All." She is certain that the projection of her Voice from center field towards Slagfirth will cause the bird to startle and jump a foot towards Hat-Hatul. Not enough of a leap to make it easy for Hat-Hatul to take over, but enough to lose Slagfirth the step advantage. "He Needs to Work for This Win," she notes to Raven. "It Will make the House Favorite's Loss easier to Bear." And she Feels that Slagfirth has enough in him to prevail against her gentle teasing as well as the House Pets.
Raven snorts in amusement. "I wonder if the house allows side bets? 'Number of times a player lets somebody distract him' might be a fun one."
"The lady's got a point," she calls to the ring.
The other side laughs this time.
"If you want to compete, you have to sign up. Or did they disqualify you because you're too close to Emuraptors yourselves?"
Hat-Hatul jumps in. "Slaggy, are you done flirting yet? You have to fail here before you can go fail with your lady-friends."
Slagfirth's face turns red and he gestures at the great bird. It squawks in annoyance, surprise, and perhaps fear. It rises a few inches off the ground but doesn't move anywhere. Hat-Hatul is also concentrating hard on the creature.
The crowd roars, both sides.
Raven eyes the bird. "Ain't they supposed to move it across the board?" she asks Brita. "Pretty sure the board isn't in the air."
Brita shrugs, "The Air may be Part of The Board." She is certain that the bird has some vestigial instinct of flight, its only current constraint against being able to fly had been its weight which has now been eliminated. So....Fly! she thinks at the bird, Fly to the smallest threat - the quiet one in front of you! Out loud she says, "Way to Go, Wizard Slagfirth! What Mental Strength!"
The bird seems to take the idea well. Her large wings are usually used for balance or to puff herself up. Now she can pull herself towards the threat.
Other nearby Slagfirth fans (or at least bettors) start chanting "Slag! Firth! Slag! Firth!" There is much pounding of mugs on the tables...
Slagfirth's eyes widen and he drops his spell, dropping the bird. One of the fans yells out "Now Crap, you damned bird!"
The bird keeps walking towards Slagfirth. He looks nervous and changes his hand motions. There's a steady green light on the bird, which starts to vibrate slightly.
Other fans are shouting for Hat-Hatul to do something. And they're pretty worked up. This bar is one flipped table from a full riot.
"I think it likes you," Raven calls. "But ain't this supposed to be a contest, lads?"
But she's watching Hat-Hatul's fans now more than the bird. Nice to know it's easy to make this place a tinderbox, but... Raven doesn't think it's likely that there will be any fights big enough to start a large riot tonight. A few guys fighting, now - that's just a normal gambling night most places, so that's probably fine if it happens.
Brita grins at the chaos. So much like home. She is certain there is a high probability that this was a typical result of matches here, but probably more so on the days drawing bigger crowds. She expects the management will quickly recognize the potential and send out the servers to distract the audience with requests for more rounds.
The waitstaff is deployed, but they don't seem to be getting much traction, and indeed, they seem as fixated on the game as anyone else. One waiter says 'this is gonna be good', and another laughs. They look strong enough to stop a fight, but not a riot.
The emuraptor is positively vibrating now, above the floor and squawking. Hat-Hatul gives a very visible push, and waves of blue light shove the bird towards Slagfirth. It's coming at him, all angry beak and talons. Slagfirth screams and claps his hands and the bird explodes.
There is a brief moment of silence as the ringing sound dies down, and then the crowd follows suit.
When the bird explodes, Brita notes with a small moue to Raven, "Aw! The Poor Emuraptor!" Then as she watches the room erupt, a grin of Conner-level brightness spreads over her face and she adds "You are a Fun Date, Cousin! See if you can Snag Slag Before He Bolts."
Raven snorts. "I'll give it a shot. Meet back at the docks if you get lost, aye?"
[Brita] then stands up on their table at center field in her best Uncle Thor hands on hips pose and yells over the escalating din (perchance with goddess-like reverberations for effect), "Alright Now Boys! Someone Better Explain to Me Who Won That Round!"
A bottle is thrown at Brita's head, from the Hat-Hutal fans to the north. Someone shouts out "Your mother won that round!" This doesn't seem to diminish the fighting. There are bottles and chairs flying all over the place. Brita, being up high, is a favorite target.
Brita, well used to getting stuff thrown at her in Valhalla, ducks the first one but catches several in succession and begins juggling them. She then begins doling them out one at a time and with high velocity to knock out the worst offenders in the fight. "Aw, Come on now, Boys! My Mother would have Won the Round in Two Seconds Flat - She is That Good. And That Scary."
Soon the factions are arranging the tables defensively, crouching behind them and casting spells at each other. Nobody seems completely murderous, however they seem to be perfectly happy to throw, catch, and return fireballs. A Molotov cocktail lands at Brita's feet, spreading burning alcohol across the table that she's standing on.
[Raven] heads for where Slagfirth entered the arena, muttering something under her breath. It might - after removal of the extensive and expansive profanity - sound suspiciously like, "Not again."
Raven easily slides into the arena, which seems bigger once she's on the ground of it. Both Slagfirth and Hat-Hatul are unconscious on the ground near their chairs. Slagfirth has a sliver of bone, undoubtably from the bird, lodged in his upper leg. He's bleeding, and if left alone will bleed out soon enough. Hat-Hatul looks like he was stunned, probably by magical feedback.
Raven snorts and fights back the temptation to yell, "He's not running," to Brita. Instead, she takes a cursory look around for any sort of medical supplies near the arena entrance - very cursory, in that she's not keen to be hit by a bottle or chair right now - and then starts trying to stop the bleeding.
The spell protecting the arena is still in place, so no glasses or bottles get flung her way. She's able to stop the bleeding with a piece of his own shirt, but he's not conscious and neither is Hat-Hatul. The most reasonable way out is through the competitor's entrance ramp. She can take either or both of the competitors, but they might not fare well going through the riot.
Brita has spotted Raven and headed into the ring. "Shall we Exit Stage Left?" She asks.
"Depends on which way you want to call stage left," Raven answers dryly. "You want to carry your boyfriend or the loser?"
"I'll take Wizard Hatful, You can Get Wizard Slag. Wouldn't Want to Seem Too Easy," Brita grins. "We can Go Out the Bird Entrance, I Suppose. Might Need to Save the Livestock."
Raven snorts. "Pretty sure that lot is smart enough to not go after those things. But if you want to, sure."
[Player Monica was unclear on the competitors entrance ramp - it leads through the riot? I am assuming that there was a unique entrance for the bird that did not go through the crowd.]
[Player Sarah is also a little confused on the positioning of entrances versus the position of the riot.]
[OOC: GMM will clarify! It's like a bull ring. There's a raised deck above the arena floor, and the spectators sit on the deck. There are exits evenly spaced around the arena floor, which lead to basically the same backstage area. Animals are to the left side, and dressing rooms for contestants to the right. Going back to the seating area starts with a 10 foot climb or levitation or some such. Going out the doors involves no such excitement, but it's hard to say what's back there.]
[OOC: Somewhat like this.]
[Ok. Brita's suggestion stands - still want to go through the bird entrance.]
[OOC: GMM says "We're looking for a more declarative declaration of action." Something along the lines of "We take the wizards and exit, stage left..."]
Brita picks up the stunned Mage and slings him over her shoulder as she moves towards the chosen exit. "Think our Good Merchant will be Mad?" she throws over her other shoulder at Raven.
Raven does likewise with the other mage, if with a little caution to not make him bleed again, and follows. "I'm gonna guess that'll depend on what these two have to say." She snorts. "Well, and how far this riot spreads. We should find someplace to take them that ain't my ship. Ideas?"
The area where the bird came from is musty and dank and smells of bird. It's lit by a few swinging lanterns and the outline of the door at the far end of the room. It's basically under the floor of the crowd section, and there are posts holding up the ceiling at regular intervals.
If there's anyone down here, they're staying quiet at the sight of the two people hauling two of their powerful wizards like sacks of flour. There are a number of weapons which look like they are used for gladiatorial contests, and a number of bird cages. One is occupied by an even bigger emuraptor. It stares directly at you, but doesn't move.
Is there really a fire in the upper part? If so, Brita is willing to figure out a way to free the bird.
There's some fire, but it didn't seem out of control. Apparently "fireproofing" is in a race with "fireballs" for "Things that happen in bars". It's not safe, but people aren't fleeing the fire yet.
Brita nods to the bird and says, "She Was a Valiant Warrior Queen Deserving of a Place on the Fields of Valhalla."
To Raven she answers, "We Can go Back to the Inn. There Is a Back Door Past the Kitchens. Hopefully, We will Meet our Benefactors and They can Decide if there is a Better Place." She glances back to the emuraptor's cage and asks, "Do we Free the Mate to Give him a Fighting Chance or Protect the Unsuspecting from his Wrath?”
The captain opens her mouth, shuts it, and pauses. Finally, she says, "Me, I'd leave it here.
"If anyone saw us come down here - or if they figure out we went this way - and that bird goes up there," Raven points back the way they came, "and does damage, then we are going to have a damned hard time getting anyone to talk to us later, if we come back. People remember that kind of thing. I'd say the same about the riot, except I ain't so sure this is the first time they've rioted in here. So if you've gotta let it out, then you'd better find it a collar and leash, because we ain't leaving it here. And you get to tell the weir how they ain't allowed to eat the big chicken when we get it back to the ship - and it will have to go back to the ship, because it ain't gonna blend in around here."
Brita nods at Ravens sage advice. She feels like she is channeling her Uncle Loki a bit more than her Father Vidar at the moment. She quickly glances around for handling equipment while thinking that Cousin Robin would be So Welcome at the moment as she could Probably Talk to the beast and get it out of here safely.
[is the cage free standing or more of a walled pen?]
[ooc: freestanding, and on wheels, so they can bring it out.]
"I will Not Stress Your Patience. We Do Not wish to bring these" -- a jostle of her burden -- "to Your Ship or Him" -- a nod to the bird -- "to the Inn. I will Think on It and ask Others if Their World Plans could Include Freeing This Beast."
"It ain't that you're stressing my patience," Raven says dryly. "It's that there's things you do when you're snatching a couple of guys, and breaking out a thing that's as like as not going to try to kill you ain't on that list. Not when we know it can take care of itself if it has to. If you've really just got to make sure it's let out, we can come back another night if the other two ain't interested. But right now, we should go."
She heads for the door.
There's a lot of noise in the back room where Brita and Raven disappeared, most of which seems to have to do with whatever gambling is going on in there. Waitresses (or tavern wenches, take your pick) go in and out with increasing amounts of booze, and the noise when the doors open gets louder and louder. Finally something happens that shakes the building a little--might be an explosion--causing more cautious customers to finish their drinks, toss coins on tables, and leave.
Not long afterwards, fighting starts spilling out of the door. There's no immediate sign of Raven or Brita.
Jerod finishes quaffing his drink as the fighting spills out, adjusting his position without even thinking to ensure he's in a suitable defensive position but is mostly indifferent to the wave of rioters that begin encroaching on his position. He is confident that Brita is more than capable of handling herself and to actually consider her to be in need of assistance would likely be considered an insult to her, which Jerod would never consider doing.
As for Raven, the good Captain will have the opportunity to show some skill in the upcoming event Jerod thinks, and since being a captain of a ship requires not just intelligence but on some occasions a good amount of brawn, he is also unconcerned about that situation requiring his intervention.
So he waits patiently, knocking anyone who approaches too closely over the head with a heavy tankard to remove them as a potential threat and watches to see what happens.
The fight is only just beginning to spread out of the back area and towards the front, so Jerod doesn't have to knock more than one or two brawlers unconscious.
The riot continues apace. Jerod smells smoke, and burned flesh, coming from the back.
Jerod decides this is the moment for action, so he makes his way over to the bar, making sure to brain anyone who gets in his way and looks to obtain another drink. Should the serving staff be unavailable, he will avail himself of the opportunity to do so himself, while making sure to pay suitable compensation for his beverage.
Given that the building is not specifically on fire, he still is pretty much unconcerned as to what happens inside, knowing the good Captain and his somewhat excitable, but nonetheless enjoyable cousin no doubt have things well in hand.
The explosions are getting louder and more frequent--if this were a shadow with firearms, Jerod might think they were shooting at each other, so maybe they're tossing grenades or the magical equivalent--and more people are starting to spill out as the riot gets more intense.
Neither Brita nor Raven have appeared in the doorway or slipped out so far as Jerod can tell.
Jerod finishes his drink while taking into account the explosions, and thinks a few minutes ahead concerning possible ramifications. Given that fire and explosions are usually considered to be detrimental to the well-being of the community, Jerod realizes this may draw unwelcome attention from the local authorities. So he takes a moment and decides, with absolute certainty, that the unfortunate, and quite certainly accidental, fire that engulfs a set of small businesses on the opposite side of town is more than sufficient to keep the authorities occupied for the time being with crowd control and firefighting. Certainly long enough that no one will be coming to investigate the situation here.
Jerod is 100% absolutely certain he has done what he tried to do.
Thus assured that his cousins will have suitable opportunity to complete what they have started, be it planned or just chaotic mayhem, he sees about collecting another drink assuming the mob doesn't encroach too much.
He can be patient when the need arises.
The barmaid looks over at him. "Might want to be going, my Lord. When they come to clean up, they don't pay much attention to who is who. It's knock 'em down and lock 'em up, and sort 'em when they're sober, just like in the song."
"Mmm...that would be bad for my appointment tomorrow, I suppose?" he muses for a moment. "Certainly wouldn't be good having one of my employees in the hoosegow either." and he finishes his drink, tossing a few coins of suitable denomination to act as a substantial tip onto the counter within easy reach of the barmaid.
And with that, he heads on inside to see about locating his wayward captain, avoiding revellers and mobsters as needed, either by dodging and weaving, or the judicious use of the empty mug he retained from the bar.
The inside consists of about five concentrations of people and furniture, hurling fireballs and tables and chairs at each other. Down in the gaming pit, there are little pools of blood, and feathers, and a swinging door.
The rioters seem to be enjoying themselves, and the place isn't catching on fire. It should be. Must be fireproofing spells. Alcohol burns pretty well, though. There is no sign of a whole emuraptor, either below or on the observation level.
A through glance around does not spot Brita or Raven. He does spot a few people who seem to be sizing him up for a game of 'catch the Molotov Cocktail'.
The rioters no doubt are engaged in a friendly game as it were and if nothing is catching fire it is no doubt because the underlying rules are being adhered to by all participants. So those who decide to size up Jerod are going to figure out very quickly that he's not playing by any rules that they would agree with, which is evidently clear from the general look on his face, plus the look that he gives to selected individuals sizing him up. If anyone gets close enough as he moves through the interior, Jerod can provide a suitable example of his mindset by putting down a rioter in a manner that is short, sharp and decidedly "un-fun", though not lethal - debilitating yes, broken bones most probably, certainly in the category of aggravated assault.
Beyond that, figuring that the only way out is through the swinging door, Jerod heads that way.
Anyone considering messing with Jerod reconsiders, and he is unbothered as he heads to the fighting pit and the swinging door.
Last modified: 13 May 2016
