Keith Jeremiah Smith's Story

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

Catherine was a normal looking woman; her soft facial features gave off the impression of innocence and a good willed person. But she wasn't innocent at all, good willed well sort of, as best as she could be. Her long, dark brown, beautiful thick hair was wavy, quite dry, and a bit messy. But her eyes was what got peoples attention the most. She had bright, big blue eyes, that always seemed rather eerie to stare into; felt as though those eyes of hers could look straight through you, past that mask and into your soul. Her sweet smiles and positive attitude were quite misleading as she wasn't always happy or positive, but felt it was the easiest way to approach people and start a conversation.

Because of this rather innocent vibe Catherine projected, many underestimated her, thought they could take advantage of her and treated her sometimes like a kid, baby talking her. Which she found annoying but played along, feeding their mind false accusations before finally stunning them with what she truly was. She found it amazing how comfortable people usually felt around her, even though most of her smiles and happy attitude wasn't an act at all, for all they knew she could be pretending to only later kill them and take their dosh. An amusing thought, but she wasn't that kind of person. She believed in fairly gaining money, most of the time. Catherine was a bit of a hypocrite sometimes.

Catherine looked younger than what her age actually was. Which was why it amazed a lot of men especially, when she would out smart them in a game of cards and leave with all their money. Which didn't always go down as simple as that, a frail looking woman, could easily take your money back off her right? Wrong. She was nimble, agile, quick to avoid and defend herself. She could easily get out of a sticky situation after much experience in her life time.

Aside all that, Catherine was just a simple explorer, adventurer, Doctor and Navigator. Mainly personal though, she is very afraid of growing too fond or attached to someone and then being betrayed or thrown aside for what she really is. What is she you might ask? Well, many would call her a monster but she liked to go with unique.

Catherine always found that wearing men's clothing was far more convenient, comfortable and simply better in general for moving around so much. She couldn't recall the last time she wore a dress or a skirt, she found it simply attracted annoying and unwanted attention. Her brown pants were a bit baggy, held up by a thick, black belt and he baggy, long sleeved, white shirt was kept messily tucked into her pants. The bottom of her pants were also tucked into her knee high, faded black boots. She dressed casually and comfortably, a bit lazily really but she made it look good. Good enough.

It was night now, Catherine's usual normal form was no longer seen by the public. No at night her skin changed to that of a reptiles, thick, difficult to penetrate, rough looking but still strangely smooth, like a snake. The whites of her eyes were a yellow colour and her irises were now completely black. Her nails, long, thick, hard, could easily penetrate and remove a lot of skin and possibly limbs. Yes in this form she was no longer frail but instead, what most would call, a freak. However on this island where many freaks would roam, she felt comfortable enough to wander around in the open, sure some would stare and point, but most were used to it. She felt confident like this.

The female was closing in on the popular Tavern and Brothel now, she could her loud, rowdy noises, some of pleasure and others of pain. Rather odd mixture of sounds she thought but it was the most fun to be at. You always found strange people there that she loved to drown in questions. The reptilian woman nonchalantly entered the Tavern with a cheeky smile on her face that would make you think she knows something about you you don't want her to know. As soon as she entered, she noticed the brawl that had took place, a little pack of Pirates who acted like dogs were out numbering a poor man who seemed to be doing quite well despite the unfairness of the situation, but was still getting quite pummelled. Until another man stepped in to help and also began punching one of the Pirates in the face. Her face lit up with excitement as she clapped her hands together in awe, she looked quite thrilled to be watching such an event. "Yeah you get those dogs!" She cheered from the entry as another entered, nudging her as they pushed past from her being in the way. "You could have said excuse me ya block head. Jeez! People can be so rude huh?" Catherine said this with a familiar tone as she moved herself from the entrance and directed her question at a random person who was nearby. A very pale and skinny, tall man. She liked the look of him, he certainly stood out with those glassy white eye with dark slits along with other features. She was glad that by random she had turned to this strange man, who was obviously inhuman. "Whoa you look pretty cool!" Catherine's black eyes widened as a big smile formed on her face. She leaned forward, tilting her head to the side as she studied him closer. "What's your name? I'm Catherine, are you a local here? I don't think I've ever seen you before, I'd definitely remember you. How did you become like this? Did you accidentally drink a magic potion you thought would make you stronger? Because I know this one guy who did that once and his WHOLE head turned into the head of a fish! It was so funny, hard to take him seriously." Catherine finally took a breath, it was a bit hard to talk loudly over all the loud people in the Tavern and talk a lot as well. She turned for a moment, leaning against the counter she studied all the people as a thick, claw tapped on her chin inquisitively, there were many she wished to speak with but first, she'd chat with his guy. Turning back to look at him she spoke again. "There are some odd people here tonight huh?"

---

As soon as another fistfight started, the bartender slid from the back with a small pouch. He came up to Irukandji and swept the pouch to his hands. He weighed the pouch a bit and ran his fingers across the surface, getting a feel for the items inside.

"Yes, this'll do." , he said as he let out a menacing grin.

The bartender let out a nervous smile and said with a low tone: "Next shipment next week, yes?"

"As always, yes.", he said as he swept the pouch in the pocket of his pants. He then shifted his gaze back towards the bar and laid his elbows on the counter behind him, but something was off. He heard a subtle murmur somewhere, it wasn't there before. It was growing louder than the noise in the rest of the tavern. In fact, it was growing rather irritating. It was actually growing really really irritating. One by one his sharp teeth were revealed as his eye twitched and his frown grew wider. He finally jerked his head left, and saw a girl right out of a fancy french ball. Then he realized this girl had been talking to his ear this entire time, initiating a thought process: Was she a whore? Pretty good looking for one, save for the skin condition. But what about the fact that she isn't soliciting me? No, she isn't a whore. . . maybe an escort? This whole situation is awkward. I can't deal with this right now . . .

What the fuck do you want?, he hissed.

Green-flecked hazel eyes gazed upon the tavern with an air of wonder, curiousity drawing her towards the foreign building like metal to a magnet. Having arrived only a night ago, Samara had yet to explore the sea port town as much as she would have liked, and only now stumbled across the lively looking establishment.

Turning to catch a passerby, the young woman carefully spoke in what she thought was now an all-but-perfected male timbre. "Begging your pardon, but what manner of place is that?"

The man regarded her as though she were daft, brows furrowed as he gruffly answered her anyway. "You got rocks in yer head boy? That's Madame Aja's Tavern. Hottest spot in town." Samara looked affronted at the insult, all but glaring at the retreating figure even as a burning embarassment filled her veins and colored her face. She didn't much care for looking a fool, even if she logically had no way of knowing otherwise. She had half a mind to curse out loud, but force of habit prevented the expletive from being released. Instead, she turned to marvel once more at the pub, feeling excited in spite of her less than pleasant exchange.

Sure, she had heard of such things, for they were mentioned often enough. But she grew up in high society, and as her parents emphasized, no respectable aristocrat- especially a woman would be caught dead in such a place. It was for common folk- or so she was told, and such establishments were beneath her.

Despite her upbringing, Samara couldn't keep from feeling a growing excitement, intrigued by the thought of finally being able to freely set foot in such a place. It would seem almost silly, but even something as common as this was an adventure to her- stepping into forbidden territory. The sensation was the same thrill she always got when about to learn something new, and Samara relished the feeling. Mind made up, she headed to the building in question and pushed open the door, heart racing in anticipation.

The sight stopped her in her tracks. Whatever she was expecting, this was not it. It was far livelier inside than it appeared, and quite the mix of patrons could be seen. No one social class seemed to dominate, nor did the rules she grew up with seem to apply. The scent of alchohol and admittedly good-smelling food reached her nostrils, along with the occasional hint of perfume from the brothel ladies.

Samara glanced around, catching sight of a group of sailors throwing knives at a target upon the wall. A cook placed fresh hot meals in front of several seated patrons. And, to top it off, a fight seemed to have broken out between a single man and a group of rather pissed off looking pirates. She let out an invouluntary gasp at the struggle, seeing a fine dark haired man intervene with a tackle to one of the attacking pirates. She had honestly never seen people truly fight before, and the brawl caught her by surprise. Perhaps it took away from the guise of her being a male, but she couldn't hide her shock. Was this common place in taverns?

Samara felt a strong urge to move, to do something...to help. But how on earth was she to do such a thing? She had sparred with her brother whenever he would indulge her, but never had she been in any position to defend someone. Her thoughts were interrupted when a fighter stumbled back from a punch, the figure narrowly missing her as she stepped back to avoid the brawl.