The Kingdom of Valsir

The Dragon's Fang Mercenary band was in it's full swing of its daily activity off battle. The sun was shining in a clear summer day. The men were either chatting away, getting drunk, or sleeping off being drunk. The Women were either punching men away from them, entertaining men. Some may even debate on what a certain member in their wake looks like at their own peril. The Boss was busy looking through jobs.

The newbie, Na'ari Azura, was looking at his tent, and the workplace he'd be taking over next door. He frowned at the state of the blacksmith stand as he walked into it. The furnace was a sooty mess, the metals were disorganized, and the weapons rack...

"Ridiculous!" he muttered to himself. "The first challenge of the first day of working and I gotta spend it making this place spic and span." Na'ari sighed and shifted his shoulder, having being freed from carrying Draconil for a short time. Draconil, his pride and joy of smithing, and something he wished he had on him always to keep his guard up. Na'ari however, had to relax and get his new workplace cleaned.

He began to do just that and proceeded to where the metal was kept. He began to work on rearranging the metals, he'd clean the furnace later after a time, he just wanted everything to look neat and organized for any customer who happened by at the time. "Let's see, this quality shall be stored here, and this shall be there..." This is how his day began, and how he was for anyone to come across him shall witness.

It was a quiet day, sure- or, at least, as quiet as the Dragon’s Fang base could get. There was the occasional argument here and there, the slight raise of voice over the typical background clamor, but, overall, it was peaceful. No real fights had broken out, at least, and most (excluding a few of the more persistent flirters) were on good behavior. It was a pleasant type of air. A composed one, contrasting the typical controlled chaos that was exhibited out on the field.

Of course, this peace did not last long.

It started with a minor argument over who would pay the bill for drinks. Then progressed to name-calling- nothing strange, however, given the participants-, and then to shoving. By now, the pair’s volume had grown to the point where a few surrounding members had begun to look over. They stood, then, shoving, then throwing punches. As all friendly, civil disagreements go, one of the two eventually showed the other’s jaw to her fist in a most courteous manner. The recipient was very much grateful for the affable nature of his companion, and proceeded to return the favor by locking said companion’s head into an embrace- using the other, freed hand to deliver friendly love taps to her side.

A fair amount of the surrounding mercenaries had approached to watch as the pair kept on in their rather sudden fight- hissing and spitting at each other like angry cats. The headlocked one was currently struggling to break free, cursing and throwing punches in the general direction of her captor. Said captor was currently exploiting the opportunity by driving the more smaller body into tables, poles- nearly any surface that he could reach. It was through this that the two eventually burst into a certain blacksmith’s workplace, still tussling and shouting as many insults as they could think up in such a short time. Thankfully, instead of immediately slamming against the racks Na’ari had so carefully put up, the smaller appeared to realize the futility of her current efforts, and decided to take another approach.

Said approach just so happened to involve kicking out the feet of the larger one, tossing him over her shoulder, then immediately moving to straddle the man and deliver blow after blow to his face while shouting for him to “take it back, you fuckin’ pussy”. After a few moments, two others swiftly rushed in- another woman and man- and proceeded to pry the combatants apart from each other. They continued to squirm for some time after, still attempting to reach their enemy, but eventually settled.

Somewhat.

“You hit like a lil’ bitch.”

“Least I’m not a complete jackass.”

“Who ya callin’ ‘jackass’, fucker?”

“Who do you think? Bitch.”

"Dick."

"Asshole."

Before the smaller one could lunge again, the man attempting to hold her back gave a rather pointed cough, then nodded towards their company. “If you guys are going to act like children”, he said smoothly, “then could you please not do it here? You’ll scare the new blacksmith off at this rate.” This, of course, brought on a round of protests along the lines of “then he better get used to it” from the squabblers, which the man tactfully ignored. Instead, he turned a bright, PR smile upon Na’ari, and spoke again.

“Sorry about the interruption, my friend. We’ll just get out of your hair now.”

Na'ari's morning had been pleasant, and he was now making sure his weapons rack was neat and organized. When, all of a sudden, two brawling members of the Band came bursting in, fighting through his shop, whilst impressively, not trying to break anything in the process. He took a step back to watch the spectacle briefly.

As he watched, two more people came in just as quickly, and pulled each of the fighters away. The woman grabbing the man, and the other man, grabbing the..woman? Until he heard her voice he couldn't tell right away at first. She was masked, and so he could only see her pale locks upon her head. The woman hurled an insult and her combatant hurled one back like routine.

"Seriously Stride? This uncouth language in the morning?" Muttered the woman. The man gave a cough and indicated Na'ari's grinning form as he waved slightly at the group. the new blacksmith chuckled at how the protestors reacted and said he'd better get used to it.

"How do you know If I'm not used to it? I'm probably familiar with how mercenaries brawl." Na'ari stated. He turned to the man who spoke directly to him. "Don't mention it. I would've just cleaned up after their mess. Or rather, have them clean it up."

"Hm, a polite one. That's a fresh breath of air right there." The woman said. "What's your name?"

"Na'ari Azura, Blacksmith, Mercenary, and one of the best swordsmen alive." Na'ari said, giving a big smirk, his eyes sparkling emerald green with determination.

“How ‘bout you go and pull that stick outta your ass, Soph?” The voice from the mask was not unlike gravel, or the rumbling of some displeased animal brought into the rain. Nevertheless, it brought a bit of a chuckle from Stride’s sparring partner, and a ghost of a smile from the apparent speaker of the group- a dark haired man appearing to be just scratching mid-thirties. The air surrounding the group had lightened considerably since their original entrance. Where it was almost stifling it was now warm, comfortable, like an old rocking chair- although the look in Mr. Speaker’s eyes suggested that the fourth member of the group, the woman, would not be as pleased with the circumstances.

“You never really know with newbies, unfortunately,” Speaker said, once he had brought his attention away from Soph. “Last time someone joined, they were out the door like this.” In emphasis, his hand- the one not wrapped around Stride’s waist- rose into view, and brought forefinger and thumb together in a snap. “Couldn’t stomach all of our much...ness, I’d guess.”

“He was a puuuussy,” Angry Man crowed, purposefully drawing out the word. He was only spurred on by a round of laughter from Stride, and was about to speak up again before being swiftly cut short.

“He was,” Speaker admitted. “But that isn’t the point here.” Deciding that his company had cooled down enough to be released, he drew his arms back, and began to rub his hands together in an absentminded manner. “I would wish you luck trying to actually get them to do anything- but anyway.” Smiling even wider than before- if that was even possible- Speaker placed a hand against his heart, and then began to gesture clockwise from one mercenary to the next. “I’m Josiah Melfor. That sulky one over there is Faustus-”

“Says the guy who spent a week whining about getting ripped off.”

“-And those two,” a hand wave to the masked and unmasked woman respectively, “are Stride and Soph, but you probably already knew that.”

In response to being acknowledged, Stride gave a salute, eyegear glinting merrily in what sunlight filtered into the shop. However, at Na’ari’s boast, the woman visibly grinned beneath her mask at the other. “Must spend’a lotta time polishin’ your sword then, huh?” She drawled, eye travelling across the wares recently arranged throughout the room.

"Pleased to meet you all!" Na'ari stated as he turned to resume his work. It was then he heard the masked woman make a statement as Soph gasped and covered her mouth.

"Stride, don't be rude!" She stated as Na'ari chuckled a little bit.

"It's funny. Considering with how intimidating you must be with or without your mask then, I suppose you spend time fussing over your good looks." He stated. But inside his head, it was going off like a house on fire.

"What the heck?! Why did she make such a statement! Is she flirting with me!? What in the name of the Father of Dragons?! he thought frantically, he had to get back to thinking normal. But how, Stride was eyeing the wares. That's a good idea.

"My wares are not my handiwork, at least not yet. But compared to what I'll make, what you see will seem as mere nick nacks." Na'ari stated.

"I'll believe that when I see an example of your handiwork." Soph stated.

"All in good time Miss Soph. But in the meantime, you all are free to browse or talk to me, I'll be here for most of the day." Na'ari said, looking at each person in the room, before regarding The Masked woman, Stride, with a wide smirk, as if he was inviting her to try again at teasing him.