Dáire Esbon's Story

The night in Nassau is as it always was, warm, but now a welcoming warm, it was like standing near a funeral pyre, there was nothing welcoming about it. Pirates came and went, merchants selling their wares, trading with said pirates, bars and taverns ringing with the sounds of breaking glass, music, chattering and cheering, brothels alive with the sounds of moans and screams of pleasure and some times pain.

On this dark kingless island, a woman walked, her dark eyes focusing on nothing, yet seeing nearly everything. A dark skinned beauty, hair flowing down in unbound tresses, her curvy body hugged in a boiled leather corset, long skirts twisting around her long legs as she walked, a pilfered belt with a large golden clasp hung around her waist, with a cutlass in much need of a wet stone in it's sheath on her right and a dagger on her left, a cotton men's shirt, left slightly unbuttoned, teasing the bounty beneath.

This night was not unlike night she earned her name, not known to all, but one day, one day soon would be feared by all, as here, walked the Crimson Lady, Robyn Sheva.

She rounded the corner, entering the tavern/brothel, where men looked at her oddly. Women pirates, while not uncommon, were still quite a sight. A fact she knew, but the fact is, she wasn't a pirate, not yet. No, instead, she was thief, having stolen the belt from a pirate with limited control of his hands. He thought himself a taste of her, and only found the taste of his own blood as it bubbled up his throat, shortly after she plunged her favored dagger into his gut.

She took a seat at the bar, and ordered a tall glass over rum, paying very close to the eyes that were on her. No blood was to be spilled here, not in Madame Aja Rai's establishment, not unless a man wanted to go un-fucked for the evening, which was good for Robyn, it was unlikely that someone would try something foolish.

"Quite the cutlass you have there, Lass." said a pirate well into his cup.

"If you do not want to see it in use, then I suggest you move along." said the woman, as her cup set in front of her. The pirate laughed. "Oh listen to you, such a brave girl," he said, brushing hair from in front of her ear. Robyn smacked his hand away, causing his crew to all stand up. The pirate waved them down.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Wrong question."

"What?"

"That's not the question you should be asking me, you should be asking, if I care enough to know, and the answer to that, is no."
Robyn took a sip of her mug, only to have it knocked from her hand, the contents spilling on to the floor.

"You've got quite the balls for a woman." He said, anger now at Robyn's nonchalance. Robyn turned to him, her face a mask of boredom and amusement.

"I could say the same to you." she said, her voice as calm as ever.

He snarled, slapped her across the face, and grabbed her throat, shoving her against the bar top.

"You want to know how big I am, I'll show you." He said, kicking the bar stool, and straddling her thighs.

"Well then, I certainly hope you fuck harder then you strike." She said, a crooked smile upturned her lips. He began to squeeze and with that, Robyn rose her leg, jarring his manhood upward. He groaned and let go, only to have Robyn slam her knee into his face as he doubled over. He popped up before hitting the ground backwards unconscious.

His crew stood up then, seven men, maybe more and Robyn sighed. She didn't really know how to use the cutlass she stole, so she didn't bother with it now, especially since no blood was allowed to be shed here. "Fucking hell." She said, her hand going to her dagger.

It was nearly freed from it's sheath with a booming voice shouted, ending all the noise in the tavern, even some of the sounds of sex going on in the upper rooms.

"That's enough of that!"

Robyn didn't take her eyes off of her soon to be attackers, but they turned from her.

"Leave the lass alone," said the voice, soon revealing himself to her as he passed through the crowd of men. A tall man with a small monkey on his shoulder walked up, his heavy foot falls echoing in the now silent room, long stringy grey and brown hair, a large hat atop his shoulders, scars lining his weather beaten face, and apple in his hand. He stopped just a few feet from where she stood, biting in to his apple while the monkey screeched. Robyn reached for her dagger.

"Peace, Lass, I'm not gonna hurt ya," He said, waving her down with both hands as the juice from the freshly bitten apple ran down his face, and on to his beard. " See I'm unarmed." he said, turning his hands so that she could see there was nothing but the apple. Robyn's eyes merely narrowed.

"I'm Captain Jack Jayne of the Harbinger, who might you be, Lass?" He asked her.

"A memory." She said and moved to the door, only to find herself blocked.

"A Memory... hmm, I think I would remember you..." He said with a gap-tooth smile.

Robyn turned up her nose. "Look, I like you, Lass, so why don't I but you a drink? As...payment for this sorry sap's actions?" He said gesturing to the unconscious man on the floor.

"What's your angle?"

The old pirate laughed, his monkey jumped up and down, howling as if it too were laughing. "Well, I suppose a romp the sack upstairs is out of the question."

Robyn titled her head, incredulously. He laughed again. "No angle, I just like a woman who can hold her own, come, join us, drinks on me." He said and Robyn took a deep breath. She didn't know what she was getting into but she was starving, all she could afford was a drink, when actually she needed a meal.

"Throw in a meal, and we'll talk." She said, and the old pirate laughed as the tavern resumed it's noise.

"What's yer name, lass?"

"Robyn, Robyn Sheva," She said, and let her dagger slid in to it's sheath, making sure it was loud enough that he knew it was there, she walked up to him and then passed him, looking for a seat. She found the one he'd been sitting in and she eyed the one beside it.

"Robin...like the bird?" he asked, standing next to her, and offered the seat, much to the confusion of his crew.

"No, not like the bird."
Robyn smirked, patted his chest, before she walked by him and taking the seat offered.
"Robyn as in, 'Robyn you blind.'" She
She crossed her legs, and twirled two gold coins between her fingers. The crew gasped, while Captain Jayne looked impressed, he laughed.
"Oh I like you."

---

Dáire love the island notoriously known has Nassau, he really did. But he felt it was about time he left the island and moved on to another. He could sense he was growing more enemies than friends and a few people by now had surely realised their belongings were missing since they met him, or they had been swindled. Either way the only good image he had made for himself, (which wasn't really that good in the end) was that he was a hard to get whore. He found this title extremely daft and irritating just to hear it. Seriously, hard to get whore? That doesn't even make sense, it's almost blasphemous to have the words whore and hard to get in the same sentence. But, Dáire had to admit he was picky about who he slept with sometimes. It wasn't as if anyone could just approach him and ask to bang, he'd only engage in sexual acts with another if he needed the money. If he was financially stable at the time of being asked, he'd coldly and flat out decline. Which didn't usually end well and seemed to cause confusion like 'but my friend just said he/she banged you the other night, said you're a top whore'. Dáire rolled his eyes at these memories.

This Gypsy didn't need to explain himself, nope, if he didn't want to fuck then that was that, why couldn't people understand that? Despite all that, he had decided to at least have one last drink at the local Tavern that was full of whores. Dáire didn't really look like a whore or look like he was asking for anything, he just dressed lightly because well, he couldn't really afford good quality, protective clothing. He was stuck with free flowing white, long sleeved shirts. He may as well be wearing a bed sheet really. Perhaps he should start pilfering more items of clothing instead of shiny, pretty, jewellery and belts. That was another thing he was covered in, many bangles and leather strap bracelets adorned his wrists, gradually bunching up along his arms. Three necklaces hung loosely around his neck, one looked quite tribal as the tooth of some animal was attached to it, the other two were simple chains, both junk really. A nose ring piercing of pure silver was prominent however, he liked this item the most. The over sized white, linen shirt slightly hung off his body lazily, only barely clinging to his shoulders; kept roughly tucked into the only decent piece of clothing on him, his dark, brown pants. They were warm and quite protective. Around his waist a large copper belt that clung to him as other smaller belts with intricate designed buckles half clung to his hip. Only just. His pants were tucked into boots that he wasn't really bothered to tie up properly.

Entering the Tavern as the sound of metal clanging lightly together entered with him, he looked around at all the patrons, he had quite soft facial features but the expression of someone not to mess with. When he wasn't look to get money, he most certainly did not look approachable at all. His mess of dark chocolate brown, long dreadlocks decorated his shoulders, his cold, brown eyes looking around for anyone who might look familiar that he might have stolen from. No one as far as he could see. A few people gave him a few odd looks, unsure of what he was really. He did have a bit of an otherworldly vibe about him and look. The Gypsy didn't like attention, made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. He was far too cautious for his own good, made it very difficult to relax.

Dáire nonchalantly made his across the room and to the hard, wooden counter accompanied by a stool which he seated himself on. He didn't want to look a cautious as he felt. "Give me the strongest poison ya got." Dáire didn't feel like anything specific, he was feeling like shit and just wanted to drink until he forgot who he was. This wasn't the first time he'd done this though, you'd think he'd learn from the last time that it didn't end well. Perhaps he'd wake up outside, on the hard, cold ground, dirty and feeling like shit, couple of bruises hear and here, shake it off. Move on. That's life.

His drink of what people tended to call alcohol was shortly given to him, he paid up, and just as he took a mouthful of the beverage, he felt something hard hit him on the back. Dáire jolted forward, causing what ever he was drinking to go down wrong. He spluttered, gradually collecting himself before turning around where he sat to see what caused him choking on his drink. The Gypsy shot daggers at the figure "What the fuck?! Do you mi-" He stopped. Dáire instantly went pale and gulped.

"Remember me, Dáire?" Oh yes, he remembered this asshole. He tried not to but his ugly face was plastered in his mind.

"What do you want." Dáire snapped.

"Oh come on, don't be like that, we got history ya know?" The man spoke so coyly, it got on Dáire's nerves.

"No. We don't. you fucked me once, that's it, go find some whore upstairs to get your grotty hands on." He really didn't want to talk with this guy. All he could do was give blunt answers and hope he'd go away. The guy was some shitty pirate that Dáire used to get from one side of the ocean to another. It was a long, painful trip. The price was quite high, he was like a little show and tell item to the crew, something to amuse themselves with, in any way they wanted. Which Dáire had foolishly agreed to as long as no harm came to him, which it did. This was a very long time ago and he felt so stupid for it. But he wouldn't be here if it weren't for that moment in his life. He made sure to borrow many of the Captain's precious belongings, them sell them for a pretty penny.

Dáire turned back around in his seat, turning his back to the pirate Captain who he had completely forgotten the name of, he had his own nickname for him for his own personal amusement. "You owe me Dáire." His voice turned dark and Dáire felt uneasy. The presence of the pirate felt strong and he suddenly felt the man was closer as his dreadlocks were moved aside from his left ear and the stinking breath of the pirate wafted up Dáire's nose. "Don't think I've forgotten, it's taken me a long time to track you down and I'm going to make you pay." Dáire gritted his teeth together, he hated it when people touched any inch of him without his permission. In a burst of anger he elbowed the pirate the stood behind him with much force, plunging his bony elbow into what partly felt like his gut and half his ribs. A loud groan of pain filled his ears as the man stumbled before falling on his ass with a thump onto the hard wooden floor boards. Dáire didn't look it, but when he was mad, he had a lot of strength. "I'll fucking kill you Dáire!" Oh he was embarrassed now as he got up onto his feet and glared at him. Dáire sculled the rest of his drink, wiped his mouth the his sleeve before getting out of his seat. A lot of eyes were on him now as they stared in disbelief, he wasn't as weak as he looked.

"I don't owe you shit." Dáire was fierce and had had enough of this guy as he began rolling up his sleeves."You want to fight I'll give you a damn fight you piece of horse shit." He needed to calm down but it was a bit hard now that the idiot of a pirate had riled him up.

Meanwhile, in the more or less shady part of the docks, a pale figure was squatting over at the pier, maintaining a silent vigil with his harpoon aimed at the murky water. He saw the reflection of his macabre face dancing in the water, a face he'd come to recognize as his own in time. He couldn't rightly recall what his faced once might've looked like. He took guesses, but hadn't seen many southeast-asian folk around here, especially not people with the same affliction as him. He still saw relatively abnormal people here and there. A gypsy with a hidden third eye here, a limp person resembling a clownfish more than a person there. He'd think his condition was more common.

So it was, that Irukandji, as he had started calling himself, was in an alternate life-state. Some old sea dogs tell tales of these so-called "Drowns", people who had drowned and continued living. The drown-curse lifts them back up, transformed into pale and slender husks of themselves. They spend their entire lives longing for the sea, but never quite reaching it. They stare at the waters hours at a time, only obsessively thinking about the depths they once drowned in. The Drowns know secrets kept hidden from the surface, but struggle to understand them, only seeing a glimpse of the big picture, forever wondering what is down there.

Irukandji snapped out of his thoughts, and struck his harpoon at his reflection. He pulled it up, and snatched the small fish lodged in the tip. He examined the scales and the eyes of the fish, whipped out his ice-pick and carved the eyes right off. He ate the eyes and put the fish into one of his pouches. He figured it was high time to get back to the Tavern with this week's shipment. He stood up and walked towards the Tavern.

The atmosphere inside was as chaotic as usual. The sight of this pale figure invoked the usual dread in a few select sailors, confusion and awe in a few others. Upon seeing him enter, the bartender stepped away from the counter for a while and met him in the dark corner siding the counter. Business as usual. He pressed himself against the bartender and hugged him, while slipping a murky green vial to his pocket with discretion.

"The usual, yes?", he said.

"Er, yes, take a seat and wait, will ya? I'll have the payment brought in a moment."

"Very well, fetch me a rum while you're at it.", he remarked as he sat down beside the west end of the counter. The bartender quickly passed him the rum and got back to his usual routines. The population in the Tavern was hardly sporting. There's the usual barfights, whores and manwhores alike mingling with one another, salty sea dogs getting their last bit of snatch before their voyage . . .

He couldn't remember the last time he had one, usually he picked the specific ones really into weird stuff. Not that there was anything weird about his manhood, it's as potent as ever. It's just that mixing and delivering shipments takes so much time these days. . .

He continued to spectate the tavern folk as he took swigs of his rum bottle and scratched the small yet itchy barnacle cluster on his back.

Aja stood on the balcony that over looked the tarven, the brothel portion of the building. She was dressed in a tight corset, her bare bust peeking over the top, a long skirt, showing off her brown legs. She watched as the woman, calling herself Robyn was given a plate by the Cook, Fae.

Aja had taken a special liking to the cook, she wasn't Fae like Aja, but her name was, not only that she was a spectacular cook. She was very particular about the people she had working in her building.

Aja looked back at the dark skinned woman, while she ate with the Captain. Captain rarely took woman in, he had not a single one on his crew yet she saw in a vision sometime ago that he would and it would be this girl. Aja always found it fun to watch her visions -the good ones- come to pass. This woman would one day but the most fearsome Pirate Captian's the world would ever see, but right now, she looked like every other woman in this place. Malnourished, ansty, and weak.

Aja wanted to watch this all play out.

For now, she had work to do, or she would, shortly. She moved down the staircase, and made her way to where an olive skinned boy with long dark dreadlocks was ready and raring to take down a pirate after yet another fight was about to break out. This would end differently from the last one.

She walked up to him, though it would appear to him and anyone looking that she just appeared.

"Oh no, Mon'chere, You are much to lovely to frown like this..." she cooed, touching the boy's arm softly. She waved the pirate off, the simple wave was enough to keep the pirate captain at bay, at least while he was in her establishment. Everyone knew not to anger the lovely Aja Rai.

"Why don't you get something to eat, on me." she said, but the way she spoke, it could have been taken two different ways.

Fae was fumbling with the laces on her brown, worn out, sad excuse for a dress as she heard the fool of a bartender shout "Get me sum chicken 'ere!"
She stopped in her tracks, turned on her heels and strode towards the man and just as she was about to protest, she overheard the madame offer food to a man with long, dark dreadlocks. Damn it. Her pride wouldn't let her deny anyone a taste of her cooking. Especially not madame. Not that she could deny her anyways, she admired her. “So what’s a man gotta do to get some food around here?”
She lowered her head in slight annoyance as she pressed her thumb and index finger across her nose bridge.

"Why you ask for it of course." At this point she had straightened her back and walked towards the bearded, babyfaced man. As she approached him, she started tying her laces back across her chest. "You could of course make it yourself, but luckily that's my job. All we ask is that you pay it's worth, yeah?"

As she finished her sentence she had already tied her laces, but her hair back in a bun aswell as let her knife slink into her hand.
"Three plates of tonight's special coming up. And for fuck's sake, after that I'm off duty." Those last few words she aimed towards the bartender with a sour look in her eyes as she passed him on her way back into the kitchen.

Two plates of chicken, carrots and potatoes were done. The last one, the one for madame she always made a little bit special. This time, she had wrapped two chicken legs with bacon which she had fried to the perfect crisp and saltyness. Lastly, and always her favourite ingredient, garlic. Perfection, as always. One, two trays on the left arm and the one for madame in the right hand.
With her behind, she pushed open the door and once again effortlessly made her way through the crowd.

The first plate landed in fron of a tanned, long and dark haired man with brown eyes. She eyed him for a few seconds before she smiled and said. Here ya go love, enjoy." The second landed in front of the babyfaced man. "And for you, love. Enjoy."
Lastly, but not least, the plate for madame. "Madame, for you. Enjoy."

It was yet again another interesting night in Madame Aja's establishment, and yet again Keith found himself intrigued with it all.
After his horrible incident two years back, Madame Aja was the only one who hired him after his return. Even with his past, he still felt slightly thankful to the mysterious owner. He's been working at the place for about two years now, mainly cleaning and doing heavy lifting jobs. Being one of the more well fit men on staff, he was usually tasked with lifting heavy crates or carrying multiple sacks of potatoes at once. Other than lifting, he usually swept and kept the place clean, usually found sweeping in the tavern. Sometimes he might be tasked with odd jobs like to help cook when there is a lack of staff, or to go serve plates of food and retrieve dishes. It wasn't what he'd imagine when he left to become a pirate several years ago, but it is all he can do really. He wasn't a big fan of his current position, and of course wasn't that much of a fan of his boss, but there was two good reasons for him to be here. One of the more obvious reasons is because it keeps him well fed and alive, being paid enough to make a living and all. Secondly, he has a reason to be in the tavern, to hopefully find a pirate captain that would hire the horribly scarred boy and take him out to sea like he has dreamed.

Of course, with him being in the tavern all the time, he does hear quite a lot, and has become a rather good source of information for the Madame and other pirates alike. Usually, people would come to him if they'd like to know about someone that comes to this tavern. He usually accepts the money and pays closer attention to the particular person. It is good side money and it helped him purchase a knife for self defense, even though he would never use it in here.

He knew full well of the madame's rule of no bloodshed, and he enjoyed the rule as it meant he wouldn't get stabbed or shot without the attacker being punished. Even with this rule, bar fights still usually happen, and whichever fights don't get broken up by the madame herself, Keith usually needed to step in to stop it. Half the fights Keith ends up in are half stopping other fights or half fights started by drunkards or new pirates wanting to show their stuff. Keith being tall and bearing many scars does make him look threatening, even though he usually wears a slight smile half the time; maybe increasing his intimidation, who knows. But it gets him unwanted attention, and he usually has to fight to show the person he is no one to tangle with. He may not know how to use a sword or many other weapons in fact, but with all his previous fights, he is rather skilled at fist fights and bar brawls. Half of his training is because his opponent's are usually drunk off their asses. This is where he gets his reputation, being one of the few famous bar brawlers out here in this corrupted island. It isn't the type of title he really wanted, but for now, it is a good start.

He had been sweeping up in the tavern like usual when several interesting characters had came in. A dark skinned women who knocked out some wannabe pirate captain who though he owned it all. Another captain he might of seen before, with his pet monkey and chewing on an apple. These two were seated away from him, the cook had just brought them a meal. The bartender was up to his usual suspicious activity with a rather strange, pale looking man. He never knew what the stuff was, but it didn't look good to Keith. The cook was busy serving chicken left and right, giving nasty looks to the bartender. He didn't know the dislike the cook had for the bartender, but Keith has yet to have any proper conversation with her, so he wouldn't know or care. A few other people and come in; some exotic looking pirate, a rowdy pirate captain, and even madame Aja herself had come down to visit the place and was already in the process of breaking up a fight between a pirate captain and some man with dread locks.

Keith was about ready to intercept the fight himself, but Madame Aja had appeared to have beaten him to it. He stood close by just in case a fight still broke out and he had to get involved. He stood there, cleaning a nearby table and watching closely.

"Where'd they...ugh?" Poor Ethon Jordanye groaned as he half dragged himself around Nassau, looking for his Captian and the rest of his crew.

He'd overslept...again. It wasn't his fault, the Captain ran him ragged, and that was when he wasn't drunk off his head.

Last night, Ethon had to apologize to a couple of women the Captain mistook for whore, He got a nice slap for his troubles, run away from a few debt collectors and a particularly masculine lady barkeep.

It was a good thing he had magic, otherwise, he'd have been a lot worse off.



He finally made his way to Madame Aja's tavern and brothel and huffed. He should have figured this is where'd they'd be. Between the Captian and Frank, this really ought of have been the first place he'd looked.

He walked in, ducking a few people as he entered. He noticed a strange assortment of people, which was common in Madame Aja's tavern, this was a haven of sorts, no blood was to be shed, so it was relatively safe...for as safe as a tavern full of drunken pirates could be.

It wasn't hard to find his Captain, leaning over the bar, probably annoying the hell out of the lovely red haired cook. Ethon was on his way over when he stopped Madame Aja whose eyes were already on him.

"There you are, Warlock..." she told him in his mind, making Ethon shiver inwardly. Everyone knew Madame Aja wasn't human, but Ethon knew intimately. She knew what he was on sight, which he couldn't be too surprise since it was said that the Jordanye's magic came from a union between a Fae and their ancestors. Of course that was an old Jordanye legend, no one knew that the Jordanye's were of magic, just as they wanted. So when Madame Aja spoke to him in his mind, it scared him in a way he'd never felt before, and he thought was going to die once.

He gave the madame and nervous nod as he approached. He had to pull his eyes away from her, which was hard with how she was dressed. Fae or not, she was beautiful and her dressed teased his imagination, and what made it worse was that she knew it.
The madame then turned her enchanting gaze from him to the red haired cook, "Thank you, Mon'chere" she said and pressed a soft kiss to the woman's lips before she sat down, gesturing to the man with the dreadlocks.

Ethon cleared his throat turning away for a moment, he noticed a dark skinned woman, sitting with BlackJack Janye. He turned back and looked at the red haired cook. "I apologize for whatever my captain has said, or will say in the coming future, Ma'am" he said with a quick nervous boyish grin. As lovely as the Madame was, there was something about the red haired woman, he found just as beautiful. He looked at the Captain. "You haven't actually said or did anything did you? I really don't want to get slapped on your behalf...again"

---

Dáire felt so ready to pummel this guy, this scum. He wondered why he hadn't done so when he had the chance, why he didn't just slit his throat while he slept. Well, Dáire wasn't that kind of guy, he didn't like the though of killing another, not unless times got desperate. No he usually went to his book of spells and other information such as myths, legends, hidden places, curses, and more wonders. It was quite thick, and heavy but Dáire had been carrying it around most of his life since he sold everything he owned and became a Gypsy. Some pages are filled with ancient text that he cannot decipher, a language he is unfamiliar with that he is dying to understand. The book was wrapped in cheap leather; looked quite rugged and a bit damaged but it was strong, this was bound with strong, thin rope which he had managed to fiddle with so that it was attached to one of his belts and hung off the side of his thigh. Dáire would usually look through this book when he had a troublesome enemy like the Captain, and would pick a curse he though was best for them and simply lay it upon them. That way he didn't need to kill them and they could live a miserable life. It may sound selfish or cruel but it was how Dáire had lived this long.

"Why you-" Just as the pirate got up and was about to lash out at Dáire, a woman that all knew, stopped the fight instantly. It took her no fists or weapons or even a threat. Just soothing, calm words and the wave of her hand and perhaps the unfamiliar male he held a pistol to the Captain's head had a little something to do with it too. Who wouldn't back off? None the less the asshole of a pirate looked as if he was hypnotised or something, it was so odd, even he himself suddenly felt calm just from her touch, and usually Dáire hated it when people touched him without asking. This time was different.

He had heard of her and seen her a few times, knew her name, it wasn't rare to find someone at least bring her name up once in a conversation, but he had never conversed with her. All he knew was that she was in charge. He felt relaxed as his gaze moved to her, but at the same time he had a confused look on his face. She mentioned food and his stomach instantly growled impatiently. Dáire placed his left hand on hi stomach and felt a tad embarrassed about his loud stomach. "Food... Yes that would be nice." He finally replied as he rubbed the back of his head; the corner of his mouth raised ever so slightly to form a faint smile. He wasn't much of a people person when he wasn't being fake and trying to swindle money off people. When he was being himself he was a bit awkward.

The Gypsy's eyes shifted to the man who wielded the pistol, a very attractive man in his opinion. "Thanks." Even if the guy didn't do it to be nice and did it for other reasons, it certainly helped Dáire's situation, that was reason enough to thank someone in his opinion. Dáire felt a tad curious as to who he was on his way to speak with, but it was none of his business and he didn't much feel like being nosy

Dáire had been so caught up in the moment, he had completed missed the new faces that had entered the establishment. When the hell did they get here? He didn't realise how much he really blacked out and blocked out everyone when he was furious. There was even some guy at the bar counter ordering food casually, right near Dáire, and he hadn't even noticed him; oh wait make that two men, gosh he was terrible tonight, way off, not as cautious as usual. Or better yet the strange looking guy doing business with the bartender. Now that was odd, he wish he knew what in the world they were exchanging. An employee was also close by he hadn't seen when he first walked in was cleaning the tables, seeming to be keeping a close eye on them. At first Dáire wasn't sure why, almost forgetting about the little spat that broke out earlier before realising.

Okay, his mind had caught up with all the new faces, none of them were enemies as far as he could remember, so he now he can relax just a little. He followed Madame Aja to a table and seated himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had something actually good to eat as the plates of food were brought around to them by the beautiful, redhead, cook. The food presented before them looked breathtakingly delicious in Dáire's opinion. His face lit up just at the sight of the food "Thank y-" But the cook was really busy and just as he was about to thank her, she was gone after a kiss from Aja, "you." He finished his sentence feeling a little daft and felt like shrinking down to the size of a mouse for a moment then. "Calm down Dáire just be yourself. Wait no don't do that, shit." He thought to himself, attempting to make himself feel more comfortable which failed. His eyes trailed off for a moment as he noticed another unfamiliar face speak to the female cook, he had no idea what they were talking about, couldn't hear over the mash up of loud voices that filled the Tavern.

"When you asked me to eat did you mean literally eat food that was on you or- because I don't think I could afford this food if that were the case." Of course the images in his mind were far more dirtier than how casually he made the sentence out to be. A small grin formed on his face as he looked Madame Aja in the eye and began eating the food with much delight.

She smiled as politely as ever as she put the plate down in front of the madame and the man with the dreadlocks who she could only describe as...beautiful.
She was rewarded with a kiss from the madame. A faint blush spread on her cheeks and a silly smile appeared that lasted for only a second. "My pleasure." She turned around and took her leave but she did pick up the thank you from the man. She waved her hand in recognition. "Enjoy it!"
As she reached the bar, she started wiping her forehead and chest with her apron when a familiar face approached her and the usual sheepish smile was decorating it. "I apologize for whatever my captain has said, or will say in the coming future, Ma'am."
She couldn't help but chuckle as he actually turned towards the captain in question. "Oh he's been very well behaved, don't ya worry. There will be no slapping this evenin', yet." She laughed as she untied her apron and flung it over her shoulder.
"Just make sure he keeps behaving, and we'll be fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to change inte somethin' more comfortable."
With that she spun her heels and took swift steps towards the kitchen.

She had a cabinet in the kitchen dedicated only for her clothing. She swiftly and without effort untied her hair and dress, letting the dress fall straight to the floor. She always changed in the kitchen after hours as she was always alone and no one dared enter without her permission.
Her favourite white sailor shirt was waiting for her, just as she left it. Neatly folded and freshly washed. She slipped into it with a content sigh. Next were her pants and boots, also recently washed and boots polished. Lastly, her waistbelt with throwing knives, she felt like target practicing.

The atmosphere at the tavern was the same as every night. Pleasantly rowdy, the occassional attempted bar fight brought the right amount of excitment and the diversity of people was just the icing on the cake.
She joined a few sailors who were already throwing darts of knives at the target on the wall she had been allowed to hang.
"You need more practice lads!" She laughed as he threw her knife in the dead center.

Keith was glad that the fight was not going to break out right now, as he did not feel in the mood for having to fight someone tonight. Keith does a lot of fighting, but he that doesn't mean he isn't that much of a fan of it. He is one strange "pirate" but maybe being on a ship could of helped him toughen up and stop being so soft.

It appeared the cook decided to change in her kitchen again. He never understood why she would change in there. It was always possible someone would walk in on her in the middle of her changing. It happened to Keith once and he definitely felt sore afterwards. He started to pay attention to the usual time she changes so he doesn't walk in on her again. Once she had finished changing tonight, he spotted her walk over to some men throwing darts and knives. He would admit, she was pretty good with a knife, must be all the potato cutting.

He head inside the kitchen after she had walked out to finish up the remaining cleaning in the kitchen itself. The chef's were nice enough to clean a lot of it up before the kitchen was done, but Keith always came in anyways to finish it up. He has always been a rather large perfectionist, but it seemed to be more of a useful trait than a bad one. After he was done in the kitchen, he grabbed a mop and bucket and headed back out to the tavern, mopping up the vomit, alcohol, and whatever else was on the floor.

He was hoping for a more peaceful night, and he almost got it too, but that is when a familiar group of drunken pirates had come wobbling in. Usually it was only the captain, but tonight a larger group of the crew came in, and it did not bode well for the scarred Keith. He's had fights with this captain before, it's the only reason he seems to come to this tavern. He's beat him and he's thrown him into the water to let him cool off, but nearly each night he keeps coming back. And with the look likes of the crew with him, he has decided to step it up a notch. This captain was one of the many who fight Keith just to fight him. For some reason, someone had spread rumors that Keith was some hardened veteran who's seen a lot of stuff. Whoever created this rumor obviously has never spoken to Keith, and probably judged him based on his scars. The scars intimidate people for some reason, I suppose seeing a man covered in scars from head to toe does look a bit odd, but it isn't the boys fault.

"Hey Keith, you piece of shit!" The drunkard of a captain slurred at the innocently mopping pirate. The mans friends behind him gave banter and laugh at the Captains remark. But to Keith, the insult was rather dry.

"I think the only one here that earns that title would be you kind sir, because you most definitely reek of excrement."

Keith saw it instantly, the anger that flared up inside the drunk pirate captain. Keith honestly couldn't tell if he got mad at the insult or the fact that Keith used too big of words for the uneducated whelp. Even so, it was too later for Keith to figure it out, as he was already in the process of being tackled by the man, as he gives some sort of battle cry in the process. It appears its time to go at it again.

The two men flip over a table and land on the ground, and right when they do so, they begin ruthlessly exchanging punches to each other. Keith was obviously winning like he usually does, but this time, he might be in trouble. The crew surrounded him and the captain, and ever once in a while, one of the crew members would throw a kick in Keith's direction while he was one the ground. Keith could handle a few men at a time, but he was already on the ground, fending off the heavy, drunk pirate on top of him, and had no time to be able to handle the crew. As the beating continued on poor Keith, he looked around seeing if he can get anyone's attention for some help. The pirate crew of this asshole had encircled Keith, and they weren't letting anyone through without a fight. He exchanged eye contact with anyone not looking away and ignoring the brawl, with a pleading look in his eyes. It wasn't a honorably way of doing it, but he knew the madame would not be happy with having to figure out what to do with Keith's corpse, and he didn't really want a women handling his burial either.

Truthfully, Xerxes was starting to feel a little foolish for adding his threat to the Madame's command. No one was going to disobey her in her own tavern after all, but a small part of him was hoping that they wouldn't. That part of him wanted to fight and kill the type of people who had no compunction at using another person's pain or death for their own pleasure. He had been introduced to such men on his last day as a prince and he was forced to rub shoulders with such men to survive and position himself so that he might retake what was his.

Thanks.

Xerxes blinked at the simple word from the man and smiled slightly, nodding his head at the other man. It felt good for another person to appreciate him if only a little. As he was whisked away by the madame, he smiled slightly. If her reputation was correct, he was in good hands. As he left, he spoke.

"Put in a good word for me, will you? I need to speak to Madame Aja tonight."

As he was about to order some food for himself, Xerxes frowned as a single man started to fight an entire pirate crew and its captain. Xerxes sighed and, cursing his altruism, tackled one of the man's attackers from behind and aimed a quick punch at his face.

"I got to stop doing this," he murmured