Mr. Edmund Patrick Nunez was out for a pleasant stroll. He was one of the few wealthy humans in the 3 tired city of Mid-port Mountain. The city had many names depending on the language you spoke but they all roughly translated into Mid-port Mountain. The City drew its name from being a city with a decent port and mostly built into and on top of a mountain that thrust up from the ground close to the sea. This didn't make it remarkable as apparently many of the oldest cities were built into mountains what made this City special was a natural cavern in the mountain that served as a guarded port for some of the wealthiest of merchant vessels. A feature that had inspire other cities to begin carving caverns into sea side mountains. It was a lovely city and he live in the highest reaches of it atop the mountain. But when time allowed he liked to venture into the lower regions. It was safe to do so as this city had very little in the way of street crime anymore.
So he would take the wonderfully built fast tram that through the miracle of clockwork and gears could see people safely Down to the base of the mountain. It could also be used to Bring people from the lower levels up to the top swiftly but many of the rich people in the upper city, mostly Valaparet sneered at that possibility.
He got off the wondrous piece of technology and walked into the humblest section of the city, Dock-town it was where the series of docks and wharves that sprawled around the mountain transitioned into homes and shops. He was very out of place here but people paid him no mind as he had been doing this long enough he was no longer gawked at for the most part. It was not that he was waelthy that drew looks, wealthy people sometimes came down here, especially Hesken who seemed to ignore class separation to a degree and so wealthy individuals of the species would come into the humbler parts. It was not his Species that had drawn stares, human sailors lived and worked in the city along side the other races, and it was not his size, being somewhat portly in his middle age as again Hesken males were also large in the belly from the time they started puberty on into old age. No it was the mix of all of these that used to draw stares. No one expected a wealthy human to come to this part of the city and go for a stroll. But he had done it often enough that now one one batted an eye. Some like the pub owner, that seemed to open up shop at this cool early morning hour would greet him cheerily. He Strolled along the wooden streets and idly watched some of the ships pull in. He hurried slightly to be out of the way of the rush of sailors who would bolt straight for the pub and a hot meal not prepared by whatever poor sot had been picked to burn the food for the voyage. The crews wouldn't be rushing to get rum in them as most captains still rationed out rum to the crew. No these sailors wanted good food.
He paused to watched the sailors disgorge and rush toward their homes or the pub. One Skitritch sailor chattered out something in the language which human ears were ill suited to make comprehensible as a female sailor, armed to the teeth with a cutlass and a revolver opened her arms in greeting then embraced the child that jumped into her arms. It was a touching moment made only sweeter when sturdily built male skitritch slid up to embrace them both. He turned and continued his stroll taking in the lazy pace of the early morning activity. Taverns and Cafe's were opening in preparation for the rush of sailors that would come the rest of the early morning vessels arrived. The Taverns and cafes were bare-bones in comparison to the upper city but even this more humble bunch enjoyed their morning tea and coffee. He strolled on till he got to the next dock in which a relatively fine vessel was docked and its crew working loading and unloading but they were in no hurry and were relatively relaxed. This was starkly and amusingly contrasted by the argument that was taking place one of the gangplanks. A Hesken man that seemed to be the captain was arguing with a Lutrondae woman who had her hands on the shoulders of a young lad most likely her son, she was laying into the hesken captain who was a broad mass of muscle and seemed to have next to non of the extra bellyfat most hesken males had, he was tall imposing and peering calmly down at this little woman letting him have it with a tongue lashing. Next to the Lutrondae woman was a Lutrondae man who looked to be a sailor with the captain's crew, and by the way he stood next to the woman was likely married to her.
" There is absolutely no reason for you not to take my son onto your crew, NONE, and your relucantce to do so makes no sense whatsoever! By the sea we need extra income in this house and he is at the pefect age to start pulling his weight, ye employ his father without problem so you know you will have some one to train him up right off. So you employ me son this instant!" The Lutrondae woman says in the tone of a scolding school mistress.
" Thar be every reason for me to decline, de boy should be in school, i'd happily employ him after he had some schooling of his talents..."
" Don't give me non of your edumacation malrky that you fat oafs but so much stock in, this boy needs to start earning his way in life and this is the perfect place to do it!"
This whole time the boy is looking over the side of the dock in what seemed to be seething anger. He was tense and presented the sense he was about to explode.
" Now honey let the..." the husband put in calmly
" Hush up you, your too soft on the boy you..."
" SHUT YER FECKIN MOUTH YOU DIM WITTED BINT!" The boy exploded litterally in a sense, a pressure wave seemed to push his mother and father back a step and the hesken captain's hat flew off as if driven by a sharp wind.
" YE SEE WHAT BE HAPPENEN TO THE WATER? YE REMEBER THE THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN THE HOUSE WHEN I HAVE NIGHTMARES? WHAT FECKIN FUCKWIT WOULD TAKE ON AN UNTRAINED WIZARD ONTO A FECKIN WOODEN FECKIN SHIP THAT IS ALL THAT STAND BETWEEN THEM AN A WATERY DEATH?!! LET ME GO TO THE FECKIN SCHOOL SO I CAN LEARN TO CONTROL ME FECKIN POWERS AND ME FECKIN TEMPER FOR FUCKING FECKS SAKE!" Came the boy's thunderous below. Which was impressive issuing from a lad of 10 or so.
" NOW YOU..." the woman starts in.
" Look at the water sweet pea, I mean it" The Husband putts in. He goes so much as to push her toward the edge of the dock. Her mouth drops open and she stares wide eyed.
Patrick Nunez could only guess at what she saw ass there was a colmn of steam issueing from the spot the boy was starring at. He supposed the water was boiling.
" Now, while it seems yer boy can already curse like a sailor, he does need training with his powers, he be a matter shaper and storm caller ain't mistaken? Yer lad is right while untrained he poses a danger to the ship but with schoolin he would bring in 10 times what yer husband makes. So lets make this deal, he trains for a year or three then he signs on with me crew."
" He has yer temper and the ability to boil people's blood in their veins, so i think that him training before sailing is the better option my flower." The Sailor says in a soothing conciliatory tone. She turns to give her husband a scolding.
" one to three years, ten times the pay." The captain puts in. And this seems to mollify her slightly. But she shuts her mouth and nods agreement when she catches a wiff of smoke. The Dock under her son's bare paws are staring to smoke slightly.
" Alroight then." She says sounding nervous.
" Roight, i'm off to school then." The Boy says firmly then steps off the side of the dock plunging into the water. There is a rushing sound and the captain pan his head following the boy's motions. He must have been traveling very swiftly in the water, far faster than normal swiming would allow.
" Yer boy packs more firepower in hees fingers than the ship do wit all it's cannons, Learning to use it right is the safest thing fer him and you." The hesken captain says.
" That be no threat, i set me mum's house on fire when i was that age cause T'wasn't trained, a fact she never lets me live down. Anyway enjoy your time together." The large captain puts in lightly. And then walks off toward the loading ramp amidship. The Lutrondae woman turns to her husband with a darkening look and looks about to scold him for something. But she is prevented when a crewmen on the deck of the ship shouts from up on the rigging
" Tem, how ceen ye stay married to that collosal bitch?" Said an Female Lutrondae who seems to be helping a skitritch to mend a sail. Many ships kept sails despite having engines because wind is often cheaper than fuel.
" WOTS THAT MEAN? " thw wife squawks
Patrick Nunez suspected non of them actually knew what bitch meant and he didn't want to be the human they asked to explain it. So he strolled on. He went on quiet aways until he came to the section dedicated to fishing. Most of the boats left before sunrise but there were some smaller vesels here and there. Among these vessels still in port he came across something wholly worth his attention. There sitting on the docks working with needle and thread was a Hesken man mending fishing nets. He had not bothered with a shirt and he was wearing a leather garment that would be compared to a kilt with pockets. Patrick had never learned the name for the garment but he did know that often nothing was worn beneath them. They were a piece of basic work clothing that provide pockets and surface to set things on your lap. When the wearer splayed their leg the garment was pulled taught leaving a impromptu work surface. He was large like most hesken males and a charcoal gray and had a fine example of the ample tummies that helped their kind endure cold climates and make it through winters on little food. He on a crate and with calm assured movements sewed away at a net with a large needle. Patrick Nunez had no idea what he was actually doing to the net, mending it making it or whatever. He just wanted to drink in the sight of the man. He wanted to bask is his pleasant roundness and strong body.
As he stared he suddenly became aware of not being alone. There was a Sionact woman hanging out her washing but giving the task little mind as she was also staring at the shirtless hesken. Patrick recognized the look in her eyes, it was the same appreciation as his. She must have felt him look at her because she turned her head to look at him then swiftly looked away and went back to her washing. He stayed only a few minutes more as if drinking in the scenery of the sea and not just the site of the mostly bare fisherman. Then he went on his way. He understood the washer woman's embarrassment, there were still taboos around interspecies romances and sexual encounters. It was not universal but some places frowned heavily upon it. Gladly it was not more than looked down upon in this city, he had heard some cities had strict laws. Still he set off instead of continuing to watch the large fisherman. He walked 2 blocks then turned and walked up the street into a mostly residential neighborhood. He had time to dally before the morning commuter trams began winding their way up and down the mountain which was his next destination. He had picked this neighborhood not only for its convenience to the tram station, all the roads coverged on it, but this was a Predominately hesken area and he was trying to get to know their culture better as well as... well as well as their bodies. He came to this neighbourhood expecting to look into newly opened windows and perhaps some of them doing morning chores. He stopped short when he cam across something else.
There was a group of hesken from all walks of life, they were arrayed arround an open coffin, freshly made. In it lay a frail figure, pure white and somehow elegantly peaceful. The figure was dressed in a style unfamiliar to him in a red tunic with paterns woven into it. The Figure was ancient and must have passed from old age. He couldn't tell the gender of the figure but from the snowy white fluffy parts of its furn he could see he supposed this was an Alo. A species that shared a homeland with the hesken but physicaly were unlike them, where hesken were big and sturdy of build with lots of extra meat to keep them warm Alo where thin but covered in dense soft fur. The 2 species were from the same place but so different but got along so well. Their cultures where similar even if they had a separate language. The group was gathered and close knit in a respectful silence. Alone among them was what looked to be an Alo child he stood at the head of the coffin. All were still and silent until suddenly all the Adults began to sing.
It was an odd contrast, this group of fat burly beasts of men let forth a gentle stream of sound in perfect harmony. It was in Djarlendt the hesken tongue but in a gentle dialect devoid of some of the harsher elements it usually bore. It filled the air as if it had substance, it seemed to settle and rest on on the nearby buildings and it echoed as if it where sung in a cathedral instead of the open air of a portside residential neighborhood. It was deceptively high and sweet issuing from those thick, tooth filled muzzles that were built to crush bones and sever tendons. It positively danced gracefully through the air, not seeming to be words at all but a painting of sound dedicated to the one they mourned. Patrick shivered as he felt it run up his spine and move through him like a wind blowing through thin cloth, gently stirring it. It was like they were calling up the departed to dance among them one last time. Their voices fell silent but the feeling hung in the air. filling the street as if it were an unseen mist. Then The long child started singing. It was a musical language unlike he had ever heard and despite the same sweetness of feeling Patrick could tell it was wholly unrelated to the harsh language of the heseken. It was like hearing birds sing in a snowy field. It Danced of the buildings like the song before but to a different rhythm and cadence. Even though it was a long voice it sounded like hundreds far off where joining in. He understood not a word of it but he knew it was an intensely personal goodbye. The song ended but again a feeling remained. The A lone voice picked up. Its tone hopeful. It also was not coming from the throat of anyone present. It Was a lovely female voice. He realized it was coming from inside his own head, his own heart, yet it filled the space around him as physically as it had when all those toothy muzzles had been open in tender song. There were no words but the meaning flowed through him as if he was hearing it spoken to him line by line in his own language. The song spoke of an end to suffering, of life going on and growing even after it ended, it spoke of returning the vessel to the universe and to biding all present a temporary farewell as it moved onward to where they would all one day follow. He felt as if the whole of the world was lifted upward and the atmosphere lifted with it. He was suddenly in the normal world after feeling like he had briefly set foot in another. He was somewhat shaken by the experience. He stood there and tried to regain his composure.
The Group started to break up, some left immediately and walked away briskly. Others stuck around and spoke to each other. One of the Burly workmen type of the group placed the coffin lid on and lifted if effortlessly and placed in the back of a vehicle. and shut the doors gently then he hoped up onto the seat in front and drove off with the click of springs and clockwork driving it. One of the hesken dressed like a tavern owner picked up the child and and spoke to him in the Strange sing song language the boy had sung in and carried him up the street in a tender fashion. Like this was going to be his care taker for the time being. 3 or 4 hesken stuck around and seemed to talk to each other. 2 were dressed in shirts like factory workers and the 3rd was wearing some sort of plain robe. The 4th was coming Patrick's way he was decently dressed, nothing expensive but nothing of poor quality.
" May i ask if you are alright?" He says in well accented English.
" why yess i ah..." Patrick nunez went into the blustery sounds of an upperclass person completely at a loss for words.
" I know encounters like that can be unnerving for those not used to it. You experienced something most humans don't, the Spirit song. If you are headed somewhere i can accompany you there until you feel yourself again."
" Why yes, thank you to the tram station please." Patrick concedes and lets himself be led off. After a moment he regains enough composure to speak.
" I have been learning a bit of Djarlendt culture but i must say i had no idea that the Urullul could be so beautiful."
"That wasn't an Urullul, if we had been doing that we would likely all have been arrested. The Urullul is banned in this city. That was what in english could be called greif singing, i am not sure if you have a word for songs of mourning. The last thing you heard, or felt more like was a spirit song, the feeling that the universe is singing and bringing you somewhere else for a moment. The Woman who died was a famous Spirit singer and that was her way of saying goodbye and telling us to not be sad." His escort explains " A few of the men who walked off immediately will most likely not heed that last part. She was well loved in the community and they likely want somewhere to grieve in private. For some reason The Valperet don't like when we grieve openly in groups without some sort of ceremony. In fact i would like to ask you not to tell people what you just saw, the Valparet nobles seem to be clamping down on ceremonies for some reason." The hesken looks around. then leans in conspiratorially.
" Look it is obvious you are wealthy and live in the upper city, keep your ears open as to why some of the noble families are discouraging worship outside of the church, Hesken in the upper city seem to be being excluded or ignored when they inquire and the Valparet families i am friendly with have no idea what is going on. So if keep your ears open and tell any Hesken in your social circles what you hear." His close presence and pleasant voice have helped shake off the odd feeling he was experiencing and he was getting back into a more pleasant head space.
" I will, though i am not sure how much i can find out." Patrick says The pleasant musk of the man has made him set aside his unease and has begun to thrill him a little. Begin so close in and having far sharper senses of smell than humans Patrick was sure the man picked up on his growing desire. Instead of reacting poorl the man smiled and asked him a simple question.
" Are you by chance off to the den?" The hesken says with a slight smile. Patrick Nunez's heart raced at the question, he was indeed headed for the establishment known simply as "The Den" a name crafted for plausible deniability as many people understood this to mean their homes. But for those in the Know, it was a place in the middle city in the extensive basement of a tavern. It was a secret place known to only by those with certain desires. The Desire to mate with members of other species.
By the slight smile he was unable to keep off his face he gave his answer.
" You can also tell anything you find out to the proprietor of that establishment." The Hesken man says. They arrive at at the tram stop shortly there after. Patrick finds himself greeted by the familiar group of factory workers he has gotten to know on these little strolls. He bids the other man Adieu and then joins the crowd. They are all familiar with him and so don't mind when he huddles in among them in the socially intimate manner that he was told was a cultural development borne from a need to conserve body heat. Whatever its origin he had the pleasant sensation of pressing against the warm bodies of mostly hesken males. Some of them knew he got something extra out of the huddle than they did but let him in anyway as they were a non judgemental lot. All activity was blocked out by the huddled body of the workers and their conversation. He listened carefully to them Speak Djarlendt and tried to pick up words. He heard a few he recognized and listened to the interesting grammatical feature of the language that added emotion to words adding to the meaning of a sentences. He Heard that sometimes they didn't add the emotional continuation to their sentences and spoke all words unmodified and then they would add them in the next. He understood only some of the simple sentences. Like " I am getting stronger." and later from the same person " I'm getting fatter" but with the positive added to the " I'm" and to " Fatter" He knew that there were certin times in which hesken took prided in gaining bellyfat usually before winter comes along. But Patrick also knew it was sometimes used as an expression meaning " I am doing well while preparing for something." This Patrick knew came from when they lived farther north and had harsher winters meaning they would be using stored calories more often and would try to gain as much weight as possible while food was available. This lead to many little sayings concerning weight not all of which Patrick understood.
The Tram pulled up and he followed the huddle in. Inside they stood and continued to talk. Patrick listened intently and tried to pick out more. One man said something about his father's shirts but what about them he didn't know. He heard the Person the other was talking to also mention shirts. Then said something about armor. He was trying to expose himself to as much of the language as possible so was annoyed when a Lutrondae woman started grousing at a skitrich boy. He tuned out the exchange. He picked up more words. School, Study, fight, all in the same sentence but didn't know what it meant. The other responded in english " Me boy just turned 20 and he is putten on muscle and fat fast, the girls won't leave him be but he is so busy building things he hasn't got time for girls. Or Boys if that be his thing." That is something that patrick had always wondered about, most races on this world were so nonchalant about homosexuality and apparently had been for sometime before humans ever arrived on this world. But humans when they came had mixed attitudes on the subject some fine with it others hating it. There was a well recorded incident from 500 years ago of a human man attacking his son and his lover for being gay in the public square of a hesken town. He had tried to kill the lover with an axe. It was considered the first recorded time a Hesken killed a human. Appearently a nearby washer woman had intervened to stop the attack and the attacker turned the axe on her. She had, according to the account caught the axe and pulled it from his hand and hit him with the axes handle as a follow up. The blow had been so strong it had killed the man instantly, shattering his skull. There was a poem written about the woman, whose gist was it was possible to overreact against someone weaker then you, and the sorrow it brings. To the hesken the incident underscored how gentle they had to be with other races as humans were not the weakest, physically, species on this world so they better learn to be careful with how they treated people if they were to get along. Humans learned from this that homophobia was not well tolerated on this new world and that they better keep that in mind. The hesken where one of the races that was nicest to human when they first arrived and a reminder that this kind and friendly race was also far stronger then you could also be deadliest enemy made homophobia in Hesken and Alo territory vanish swiftly. It had also just died out in most places through other means. Patrick was lost in thought when the care came to a stop and one person got off greeted by a female voice from outside.
" Your son works for the Dr." One of the workman that he was pressing against spoke. The vibrations of his voice being conducted through their contact was rather soothing. A conversation followed about alchemy and the others turned to listen. This conversation went on until it changed in tone to dire seriousness. He heard a deep voice talking about remedies to shadow viper venom and Patrick hoped he never found out what a shadow viper was. Then as if summoned by this thought a sentence Patrick didn't want to hear.
" They have been sited in the woods and in the middle city streets." Says another of the workmen the one that had been talking about alchemy who was a few bodies away from Patrick. Patrick was headed for the middle city and had arranged this time to spend the night there. He really hoped he didn't see any of these shadow vipers. A deep voice gave out instructions on how to use something the speaker was giving them. They took these instructions seriously and and all listened. A silent minute passes and this is the factor stop, all the workmen that Patrick had been in the huddle with were getting off here. He felt their bodies move and shuffle as they passed him. It wasn't fully unpleasant but it was sad to have them leave. Even if he did get a somewhat sexual thrill from them he still felt a kinships with these men. They got off and left him with the 2 passengers on the far end of the car. A good look at one of them erased any thoughts of a boring rest of the ride.
The 2 could not be more different an elderly Sionact dressed in a duffel coat. holding some parcels was sitting on the far side of the most glorious person Patrick had ever seen. He was snowy white making patrick think for a moment that this was an enormous Alo, but his familiarity with Djarlendt culture showed that while his tunic was similar in style to what he had head described as alo dress, the patterns on the short sleeves and the short sleeves themselves showed this was a Hesken, and he was big. Big even by hesken standards. He would tower over any crowd and he was as Half again as thick as most burly hesken. He also had a massive pillow belly that hung across his belt as he sat. Patrick knew he had to talk to this man about something. Committed to speaking but not yet knowing what about he greeted them.
" How do you do gentlemen?" He asked politely and quickly took them both in again. He had it, a reason to speak. The Smaller Sionact nodded politely and looked uncomfortable but also as if he was thinking. Possibly thinking what someone as well dressed as Patrick Nunez was doing speaking to someone of his lower class. The Hesken just looked him swiftly up and down in a way he had seen many people of all classes do, this was a quick threat assessment and plan to react if attacked. He had seen Nobles do it, he had seen workers do it, he had seen the guard do it. The huge man in a second had taken in his size, posture, attitude, and armaments. After this quick assessment the large being speaks.
" We fare well, how do you do this morning." The snowy white behomoth replied politely. Then with no hesitantion he follows up with "May i observe that you were accepted as part of the huddle despite Your difference of species, can i inquire about that?" So this would be easy. In his quick scan of patrick he most likely noticed the slight swell in the front of his trousers but and most like knew the answer but was letting him engage anyway.
" I am very well and yes i often engage in the huddle with Hesken, they are far more accepting of humans generally even in urbane areas such as this, so i have learned their customs more readily, Plus as a species your kind seem to care less about class so i can find safety from miscreants among most any group of hesken." He answered completely truthfully But leaving out the other reason unspoken. He steps closer and continues
" I see as far as blades go you prefer The Bowie Knife instead of more traditional Patterns, may i ask about that?" He asks having a good look on the huge knife at the giant's side.
" Yes, I find the Bowie knife style of blade better for fighting, I like the hand guards often absent from traditional hesken pattern knives which are made to be tools first and weapons only if need be. Plus i can fully sharpen the back edge of the clip point giving me another cutting surface while leaving plenty of flat spine, The Bowie pattern makes for a knife more suited to combat but it sacrifices non of it's usefulness as a tool." He responds simply and clearly. He either gave lots of thought to his weapons or had been asked this before. Maybe both. He had taken some Martial arts classes that taught the upper class fighting styles and he had heard other species say much the same. He continued.
" I see, makes perfect sense, the Bowie knife is a human invention you know? " He says to start a long conversation, it was generally excepted that Bowie knives were brought here by humans from earth but the fact is many of the features of the bowie knife had been recorded in history books pre human arrival so it was a topic they could discuss. The Lontracant, the river cousins of the Lutrondae had smaller knives very like Bowie knives. He was read for his discussion to begin so he could look at this man some more but the tram dinged and this is where he would get off to head to the den.
He tips his hat politely and gets off hopping to see the large white figure again. And Fervently hoping that the large white figure showed up at The Den one night. He walks briskly down the streets His mind thoroughly on his destination. The encounter with the magnificent white figure with the piercing yellow eyes and flabby soft looking face had put him in need to be at the den post haste.
He turned down a alley that brought him to the side of a positively huge stone building that housed a tavern and hotel, the alley wasn't empty there were some skitritch in it talking, but they paid him no mind and he in turn left them to their business. He came to a wooden door, a simple sturdy wooden door in the middle of the wall he knocked. There was no code knock or anything you just knocked on the door. it was the only door in this alley and deliveries of good didn't come in this way, they came on the otherside which also had an alley but it was wider an would be a street if it led anywhere. It only lead to a wall put there so people didn't fall off the cliff that marked the end of the building. The door was opened and a bored looking skitritch showed him in. No need for a password the little doorman Knew Edmund Patrick Nunez well. The Doorman wasn't being rude or anything he always looked bored. He had seen the little man look bored during a knife fight. Patrick knew the one thing that wiped the bored look of his face and she was currently out at sea.
" Cheer up lad, she will be back in a week." Patrick said as the bored little man shut the door behind them.
" I gave her my smile, so i will only have it when she returns it to me." He says rather poetically. In fact Patrick thought he actually was a poet. If he remembered this man had been born in a hard life but had a father that stuck by him and would steal books to read to the boy. He had grown up hard on the street but began writing poetry so impressive that a guard captain sent both the street rats to work at a school instead of going to jail. Patrick thought the man's father still worked as a librarian at the school. Patrick just tips his hat to the man and walks into a little bar. This Bar is separated from the rest of the grand hotel and tavern except through small hallways, they would not need to worry about prying eye or crowds. Inside he sees a Hesken man he had never seen before, he was holding s shotgun over his shoulder and chatting with the Sionact barman.
" I'm telling ya i don't need it, nothing bad happens here, he has the best patrons on the continent." the Sionact says.
" Then i will just pick it up when i next come by." The hesken says and leans over the counter and puts the shotgun, an impressive piece of steel and brass with sawn off stock and a strap with extra shells on it. there is a small thump and the hesken's hand come back empty, while he it leaned over he kisses the barman on the top of the head. He turns and walks out with a pistol on each hip and squeezes past Patrick, but giving the middle aged human's belly a friendly pat as he passes.
" Hello there Mr.Nunez, get you a drink." The barman says.
" Sure, Surprise me with something new." Patrick says he is always delighted to try something new.
" Ah i got this Fannock drink, rather sweet, but it is potent." The barman pours the drink.
" That your man, with all the guns?" Patrick says as he sits down and sips the drink.
" Oh yes, that's me husband and he says he has a feeling something bad is gonna happen so left me light's fist, he names his bleedin weapons He must be really concerned because he love that shotgun to bits." The Barman explains " Oh and that little belly pat, he is a flirty one and may be askin you to join us one night."
Patrick smiles at this, Hesken are kinda his thing. He was hoping that some would be here today, it was still rather early, not yet 8 am. As full as his day had seemed it had only been a few hours since he left his bed to take his round about stroll to here. It was still too early to descend into the Den proper as likely anyone down there would be sleeping still. So instead he sipped his drink and waited for others to arrive.
" Since we can jump straight to the intimate details here, how does one usually include a 3rd? it is something i have yet to try." Patrick ask.
" There are a number of ways, me personal favorite is to be sandwiched between them. I am not the real expert though you should ask Tillerand Hjulsteed, he is in a 3 way marriage, though he has a husband and a wife so half of his repertoire mightn't be your cup of tea. "
" I have been meaning to ask, when 2 men marry how is it decided whose name is the family name, among humans the woman takes the man's name While Hesken add their spouse's name to theirs, how did you do it, when you married your husband?" Patrick asks with keen interest and completely shedding all manners relating to inter class communication. Here Everyone was to be considered on equal footing.
" In my case he took my last name. Me man didn't have a family, he was found in the forest by a mage who adopted him. There is a tradition among some of the northern people that when you find a baby you don't put your family name on him until he chooses to take it, sometimes such kids never choose to take their adoptive name and just have a first name. That was Kollharve case, Mainly because it wasn't one mage who raised him but 3 so he didn't choose to play favorites. If he had taken all 3 his name wouldn't fit on anything. Plus one of them Was fannock and i never could pronouce his name."
" No you never haven't mr. Okreen" Comes a voice from the shadows.
Patrick Nunez sits up startled but the barman just rolls his eyes,
" Hello oh one of the impronounceable name." A short slender figure steps out of the shadows.
" I come because harv, had a bad feeling and he wanted me to give you stuff do ward off every evil known to me and such. Just take these." The black robbed figure with astonishingly large ears sets some books and silver curved knife. One was a small coppy of the hymns to the sacred flame, the dominate well more like only, religion of Gai'talar.
" You know what to do, if it isn't driven away by praying stab it." The Figure says. " Though i take it the Skitritch who is sneaking up on me is more the stabby sort than you are?" Patrick had Barly noticed but the Bored Doorman was stealthy moving up from behind the figure. And if Patrick rembered correctly he was indeed skilled with a knife.
" I will show myself back to the main tavern, i just walked down the little hallway so no magical grand exit." The Figure turns and walks off into the shadows but an opening and closing door shows that indeed his exit was mundane.
" All of his foster parent's better not show up and leave me a weapon or else i will be buried in them. Lalenria would give me bombs, i don't want bombs in me bar." The Barman says and puts away all the things that were left on the bar for him. He pauses and looks at one of the books. " That was sweet, though, these are Saint Gerund's writings which command that love in all its forms is sacred. One of the first holymen to proclaim inter-species love valid if they both have thinking consenting minds. We have a drink name after Saint Gerund."
" A tender heart did beat in the bosom of Gerund, and a bloody one beat in his hand." The Bored Skitritch
" What does he mean?" Patrick says confused. Each species had their saints but no one bothered to learn them all.
" One time Gerund ripped a man's heart out and crushed it in his fist. But the man in question was a genocidal despot. I think he would rather be remembered for his writing on love and love making." The barman said and put the book behind the bar. A knock sounded and the skitritch went to answer the door.
" Speaking of lovemaking do you know if there will be a bard performing during tonight's activities or will love be our only song?" Patrick asked to divert his attention from the weird history of long dead saints.
" Not that i know of, but who know who might show up. Besides i think some people such as yourself are not going to wait until tonight to start off festivities." He says playfully to Patrick.
Before he can answer 2 gentlemen are lead inside one is a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, well dressed like Patrick but in more ornate Valparet style, he is heavy for a valparet packing on a decent belly for such a usually thin species and the other is Lontracnt sailor.
The sailor took a seat at a table in the corner and within moments of him sitting he leaned against the wall his head dipped and he was gently snoring. The Expensively dressed Valparet caught site of Patrick Nunez and sauntered over pulling a seat at the bar and leaned in to speak with him.
" Well hello, i had hoped to meet a juicy pear such as yourself today but the universe hasn't made me wait."
" Drink sir?" The barman asked politely but was ignored
The plump Valparet began to discus delightfully scandalous things that men of their size could do together. Leaving the sioncat Barman to clean glasses when the glasses where cleaned he had the option of fiddidling with the things behind the bar which were the books, the knife and the shotgun. He chose to pick up the knife instead of the shotgun, and was testing it's grip and how it slid in and out of the sheath.
" A drink barman." the plump valperet says only to look over seeing the barman unsheathe a wicked looking curved knife.
" Right away sir," the barman says then swiftly uses the knife to slice a piece of fruit which adorned a glass with and then poured in precise amounts of ingredients making sure they went over the fruit. He then presented a colorful drink with a slight layer effect, to the plump valparet who had lost all tenseness from seeing the knife and took his drink in a haughty silence.
" Now if only we could find a 3rd, to suit our tastes.." Patrick Nunez says lustfully. The door opens and in walks a hesken sailor, he is wearing nothin but a short canvas vest and a pair of Burlap trousers that end above his knees. he is a plain brown and the only color about him is a faded green sash around his hips. Patrick and the Valparet grin at eachother and get up to pitch him a proposition.
The barman smiles as it seems everyone was about to get what they wanted.
" I hear me boy suspects trouble so i brought you these" A lilting female voice comes from behind and to the side. A satchel full of heavy round objects is droped into the Barman's hands. He looks over to see Master alchemist Lalenria TuSean grinning wide as she dropped as sizable bag of explosives into his hands. No one really wants to have their mad adoptive in laws to bring bombs into a bar, but here he was. The 3 men in the room were so deep in flirting they saw none of this.
He just stared and his eye twitched as he contemplated barring that damn service door.