The Longest Boys Night - 05/11/20

[Gair]

Gair lingers in the first meeting spot, the Drowned Wench, fully intending for this to become a bar crawl. Much like a student in some form of adult secondary education, he's pregaming before the true event with a pint of sour ale. About halfway through it already as he peers over his cup at the faces that come and go. He himself bedecked in the usual casualwear of choice: sabatons, uniform trousers, a sabre and a shirt utterly lacking sleeves.

[Tretesta]

“…Will take about two to three months.”
A yellow jacket patroller wanders into the Wench, followed closely by an attentive, but disappointed looking, Kerberion. He was decked out for much lighter work: rolled sleeve shirt and straight slacks that he felt suited for the island climate.

Tret replied back to this seemingly devastating information “Is that so? *Hosteeah*… Alright, guess I should have expected as much. Well well, someone's far from home. Brandt!” He patted the patroller on the shoulder and parted ways, approaching the Highlander's table with a grin and arms spread “Been a few weeks, neh? What's new with you lately? Gustavo keeping well I hope?”

[Langston]

Langston rested his arm on the counter, waiting for one of Baderon Tenfingers tens of tantalizing wenches to tend to his need. He closed his eyes, picturing what she would look like. The Drowning Wench seemed to have its type. *Grey hair… golden eyes… tanned skin… Miqo'te.* That was the guess in his mind, and it almost seemed like he had summoned her, sans her pale complexion. “Three out of four isn't bad…” he muttered to himself, taking the drink from her with a smile. He set an appropriate amount of coin on the counter before handing the woman some for herself, shooting her a wink.

Secretly, he wished that the luck at guessing the woman's appearance would continue to follow him. He turned to his left and spotted Gair, alongside… what was his name? The man that appeared during Pino's birthday. Carrying his drink with him, he approached the pair and rose his mug of ale, offering a faint smile. “Right on time, yeah?” he said. “I imagine you have some grand route plotted for us, Gair. We're going to end up spending too much coin here if we're just going to be gawking at bar maids!”

[Gair]

“Kerb!” Gair exclaims and vents his excitement through battering the table nearest to him with his leathery mitt of a hand. Rattling the furniture and shaking out a nail from it that clatters on the floor, going unheard over the general din of the Wenche's general baudiness. “Last I saw you we're slappin' lasses in Fesca's wash. Mercifully, Gusty's have been good!. But now…it's drinkin' night.” He trails off at the sight of Langston, his arms held wide as if to accept the Lalafelin company into the fold. “If you'd like to join me 'an Langston here.”

“Right on time!” Gair shouts once more on Langston's approach, a tankard lofted toward the Lalafelin man. “Oh, well…it's less of a plan 'an more of a general philosophy. Maximal gawking at the widest variety of establishments, see how many barmaids we can leave blushin' in our wake!”

[Tretesta]

The sound of smashing and light destruction drew a flinch and a wince from Tret “*Hos*…ahem…getting slapped around was how I remember it. Don't know how she kept those blades coming right back to her. Witchcraft.” Relaxing visibly, Tret sat down at the table across from the Highlander. Raising a hand as he lowered himself, he'd give a sharp note whistle to attract someone over in their direction “So, harass without getting the boot? Seems like a dangerous enough time, I'm in. Langston! My God! Of course! So glad you could make it!” he gave the Lalafel a winning grin, butwas soon distracted by his predicted waitress.

Ordering a beer , he'd turn back to the menfolk “alright, so, philosophy is fine, but I'd like to vote now we give the “Missing Member” a wide berth. Their maids are keen, but so are their knives. And they tend to be pointed at fleshy bits.”

[Langston]

He could feel himself flinch at that graphic name. What a grand suggestion by this 'Kerb' fellow. Langston felt the eyes of a few workers fall towards his general direction. It could be presumed that they were pointed at the two taller men he was surrounded by, but his own touch of confidence led him to wave his hand while meeting their gaze dead on, as if he were the center of attention. One of them might've smiled. Slightly.

“I passed by there one or twice.” he said, tugging his collar. “A woman in a maid's outfit hung around the front door, and her glower towards me almost made *my* member go missing. Still, if I'm in the company of you two rough and tumble lads, I'm sure our odds of survival will rise. I'm for it!” He punctuated his vote with a healthy swig of his ale.

[Xany]

The tavern begins to shake violently, the doors and windows rattle from a large object moving just above with a loud skreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee of something dragging on the roof and a few shingles can be seen falling from the window. It all stops except for the loud hum of an engine, then almost silence. From outside you can hear muffled voices can be presumed female “hehe you sure this is yours? Doesn't seem like you know how to fly it.” A some what familiar voice that atlest one in the tavern may recognize “It's been a while since I took it around, give me a break.” As the door is flung open a young Miquote sporting some fancy duds with two ladies under his arms. In a care free tone “Hey bar keep feel free to bill the Coeurl Company.” As he moves over to a table not noticing Gair is in the room.

[Gair]

“Here I thought that place was for eunuchs,” Gair shudders in turn with Langston's response to Tretty's suggestion. His left hand absentmindedly adjusts the front of his trousers on instinct, as if to guard the family jewels. Though a smirk quickly tugs at the corners of his mouth, this oaf rather enjoys the prospect of attracting women who otherwise hate him at first. “Seven hells, so it's to be a night we avoid the scars of battle! Let's do-”

*Is that a fucking airship.* Gair looks around, losing some of his ale on the ground as he searches for what entrance the whirr of the engine even came from. The sight of the dark-haired Xany makes him just shake his head. “TOMCAT! I hope Luto ain't gonna be hot on our heels, what with the shit you pull!”

[Xany]

Looking up from his swooning of the ladies “Huh?” He says unsure of who was yelling out to him. “Gair? I didn't know you were here.” He says excitedly “Luto, I wouldnt worry about him. Gave him a bit of a cat Nap when he cought me boarding.” As one of the ladies speaks up disappointed “Awww thought you said you owned it?” Xany replys “hush darling I do own it, its in my possession isnt it?” As both women pushes off of him “Oh common where you going?' Dammnit.” He mutters under his breath. “Well looks like I'm free to join you on whatever adventure you got planned tonight!” He says to Gair. (Xany would return the gesture in kind to Trety)

[Tretesta]

It was Trets turn to flinch at the god awful din from above. Slowly turning in his chair, he stared incredulously as the catman entered with his retingent. Turning to Gair at the shout of recognition, he'd stare a bit longer, then relax and shrug, picking up where he left off “no, no, run by the Sirens. Named after their crew lost at sea, though the captain will still…how do I- dice your vegetables? If you put a toe out of line.”

His drink would be served, and Tret gestured it towards to approaching Xany and then the other two, “To health! And intact arms.” He took his first swig of many for the evening and set the takard in the table “ahhh… Alright then. So, hard maybe on the Member, sounds like. Anywhere in particular you've your heart set on tonight, Brant?”

[Xany]

The horrible noises from above didn't seem real. Langston attributed it to whatever was in his drink, so he merely shrugged and drank some more. Perhaps it would be more of a psychedelic trip! His head turned to the approaching man upon hearing Gair's booming voice address him, offering naught but a small nod in the stranger's direction. *Crowd's gonna make it hard to achieve my objective.* he thought.

“I still have no objection, though I am open to more suggestions. Were you truly looking to make a game of it?” he asked. “It seems a little…” He paused, tossing his manners in the garbage. When was the last time he was on an expedition with a light party of men? “…Well, nevermind. Whatever's clever!”

[Gair]

Baderon Tenfingers, the proprietor of the Drowned Wench can only watch on in mild horror at the formation of this drinking Light Party. Mouth agape, he just nods in recognition at Xany's offer to send the bill to him. What fresh hell is our fair city in doomed to suffer?

“There's a place called the Gobble Inn,” Gair suggests offhandedly, it would more sound like he said “Goblin” than the two words separately. After a pause he list a handful La Noscean appropriate establishments. “Then we'll mosey onto the Jolly Pecker, One Eyed Willy's, the Clam Hammer…and I reckon the Half Mast should be open as well.” Langstons question doesn't go entirely unanswered in the din, insisting with another mouthful of beer. “I ain't exactly married to the idea, 'an I know Kerb here has a ball 'an chain at home. We can just do the regular 'ol crawl and not harry too many maids.”

[Tretesta]

“I thought 'One Eyed' was 'Blind Bill's' now. Poor guy.” Another drink, and he'd raise a silver banded hand towards Gair dismissively “Bah, don't let me hold anyone back. Just because I have to be good doesn't mean the rest of you port hungry bastards do. I can keep my hands to myself, no issue. I can ahhh… Throw smoke, neh?” Keep his mug close, he turned fully to Xany now, offering a hand “Tom, I believe Gair said? Tretesta, Tret will do fine. Welcome aboard the Lecher's Lament.”

[Langston]

“'Clam Hammer'… that's a good name.” he said, downing the rest of his drink. He said it again. “Clam Hammer.” It just rolled off the tongue! “I intend to cut loose today. No one among us seems like the kind to gossip, and my wild woman of a wife would be wonderfully delighted if I *actually* brought someone home.”

He turned to Tret, the name finally clicking in his brain and wiring all the memories together. “Ah, you'll still be around for the spectacle!” he said, pointing to the manifested bar maid with his mug. “Not just the women,” The mug pointed to the Highlander. “But the Gair, and perhaps me, too. The way women gawk at this animal when enters a room is probably an Ossuary trick. I hate it!” A gentle laugh left his lips. “But with any luck, I'll be laughing all the way to the Clam Hammer.” Clam Hammer. It was starting to lose its magic after saying it so much.

[Xany]

Now sitting with the group returning the greeting in kind to trety “Thanks, and uhh its Xany actually, Tomcat is more a nickname I picked up from Gair.” Looking at Langston “Oh? Do they serve clams as a specialty?” He asks missing the joke completely.

[Tretesta]

“Xany it is, then. I'm not quite so taken to nicknames as Gair” he'd let Langston ramble about clam hammers for a bit, then shake his head softly “Lalafels and their big words, why is it- wait, the hell does a crypt have to do with women staring, Langston? Or are we chasing the ladies in graveyards? I'm pretty sure it's rigor that makes them stare, mouth agape, like that.”

[Gair]

“Lecher's Lament,” Gair echoes, a broad grin across his features. The tankard of his empty with another couple gulps and he just lets that bad boy drop to the floor with a hollow clatter. “Has a ring to it.” He pounds his chest and lets out a powerful belch that is heard as well felt. “Ossuary trick, or I'm some sorta fuckin' stupidity primal fueled by aether crystals 'an illiteracy.” Plink! He thumps that tankard across the room haphazardly with his boot. “Anyhow, gentlemen…shall we quit this place 'an romp the mists? Seems folk got a hunger for clam!”

[Langston]

“The Ossuary in *Ul'dah*, Tret.” he said. “You know, with those magic Dunesfolk brothers in robes? Sure, they bury people too, but it's the *magic*.” He saw the tankard get kicked across the room, prompting the service worker in him to chase after it and set it properly on a nearby counter. “*Honestly*, if you're going to do that, some proprietor is going to snap their chair across your back instead of a clam snapping on your 'sword', Gair. And I'm going to get an eyeful of curves before we end up dying tonight.” The chef in him died down and pointed towards the exit. “Now, lets go sate my hunger before my linkshell starts buzzing.”

[Lucas]

Several tables away, a boyish figure sits at table alone. They are looking at a menu propped up that inadvertently covers the lower half of their face. Short blonde hair graces the top of their head while their amber yellow eyes scan the offerings of this Drowned Wench. What a strange name. Why do people drink at a place with a name like that? Focus! The figure's eyes peer over the top of the menu now, watching the loud men enjoying some drink.

They sound really happy! And excited! But why? That stuff tastes terrible! Ack, focus! They're just doing cool adult things, like I should do too! The figure ponders lost in thought for a while, a dark glove straightening out their sick mustache as they think. Hmmm, maybe a water! No, that's not cool! I'll have to try this ale!

Finally after a minute of sheepishly looking around does someone come to take the person's order. They clear their throat and speak in a forced scratchy tone betrayed by a backing of melody. “I will have this… this ale! Yeah? I mean, yeah! Because I'm really cool!” they say, nodding their head knowingly. The waitress looks at them for a moment, not voicing any concerns before disappearing off to retrieve the really adult drink.

[Tretesta]

With a shake of his head, Tret would quickly finished the rest of his drink and rise, sensing the departure coming “Ahuh, call it what you want, you ghouls.” He'd give a sharp whistle across the room, catching the attention of Barderon, then patting the top of his head. Following that with a thumbs up, Tret got one in reply, and then turned to the others, hands upon the table “I'm good to go. You know, I've known folks that see chair smashing as the start of a good night. Interesting bunch; they had painted up faces and drank this sickly sweet drink…” He blinked and shook his head, catching the word “cool!” being yelled out, but didn't act much more on it. No need to go bothering people, yet.

[Gair]

“Ain't really a good night 'til one of us catches hands, or a chair! Makes ogglin' curves all the sweeter,” Gair chimes in on comment about his bar conduct. Clearly he's all too used to the bawdy miner's guild to care about where his cups end up. With the insistence to head out into the wider world in search of women and wine, he moves right for the exit that Langston indicates at a swift clip. “To the Mists we go, gentlemen.”

[Xany]

Moving over to the exit “Shall we travel in style?” Giving a whistle just outside and a rope ladder rolls down. In the distance a group of Yellow Jackets approach “and we better make that decision quick, no telling how many laws I broke.” Giving a cocky smirk.

[Langston]

Langston saw a blur of yellow come racing toward the group… and still racing. His continued reprimands about harming the coffers of hard working establishment owners had to wait. “Did they not bring firearms?” he asked. “That seems real diplomatic of them. It appears we may be at least partially guilty by association, so we should make haste.” Wishing he had dressed as the Masked Man instead, he strolled to the ladder nonchalantly, not worried about the charging Roegadyn fellows and climbed up the thing cautiously. He hated heights.

[Tretesta]

Tret brought up the rear guard, noticing the Yellow Jacket he had arrived to the bar with also advancing on the group. Looking between him and the pack coming down the bridge towards them, Tret grabbed the nearest thing he could lay hands on. This happened to be the menu held by the really cool dude, and it would be whipped like a frisbee at the lone Jacket's head to distract him. He then pushed past Xany and out into the daylight, calling back “Get yourselves up there sharp, and bring the thing around to the armorer's guild fast!” He went jogging directly towards the group of patrolmen, intending to give them a miscreant to chase after very soon.

[Lucas]

The *really cool dude* watched as the men made to leave. What, I just got here! Not fair! They are about to pout when their menu is ripped from their delicate hands suddenly, becoming an ad hoc projectile towards some poor Yellowjackets. WHOA! In fact, it's such a powerful whoa that the *really cool dude* says it out loud. “WHOA!” they say in a cool but surprised manner. Wait, where is that guy going? He's just going up! Oh geez it's going to be hard to follow them now! The *really cool dude* sits there and thinks as the men make their escape, thankfully hearing something about an armorer's guild. They begin to formulate a plan to continue following, and it definitely isn't just taking an airship! Not at all, that wouldn't be cool!

[Gair]

“Fuck, gonna have to blow the plan B early…” Gair mutters to himself and makes a run for the rope ladder, opting to hang from the rope ladder during their escape to watch for Tretesta and keep any would-be boarders from getting on the ship. Drink night quickly turned into some sort of sky pirate adventure *very* fast! From one of his deep pockets of his uniform trousers, he pulls out a small cannister of some sort. Thumbing the pin and holding down some sort of lever, just *what* the fuck did this soldier bring?! ||Spoiler alert: It's a stun grenade.||

“HALT, CRIMINAL SCUM!” Can be heard from one the Yellow Jackets. No axes were drawn yet, yet, as they hounded Tretesta through Limsa.

[Xany]

From Gairs perspective on the ladder Xany can be heard Barking out orders to the crew “Come on lads we a boy to pick up at the armorer's guild! No time to waste. You swab that poop deck.” Xany obviously pregamed a bit to hard before stumbling on the bois. He takes his spot next to the wheel. “Aye lads lets be off, we've got a rescue mission!” With a hearty laugh. then suddenly he catchs a danger in the air his hair stands in his neck “something ain't right.” He pauses as a big hand then rest on his shoulder. A large cat daddy now stands behind him. “So yo-” as Xany spins around mid sentence and lands a blow square between Lutos eyes the already black eyed blooded nose gets another round of what Xany already fed him to commendeer this ship “Men take this one back to the brig, quickly now before the others lose heart!” And brushes himself off knowing full well what he is in for after the night is through.

[Langston]

“Gods above…” muttered Langston, making sure to stay roughly six fulms away from these adrenaline pumped lads, lest he breathe in whatever toxin had them so reckless. He peered over the edge of the airborne ship, watching Gair tossing something below them. It was no expertly tossed flask, that was for certain. Yet, he could tell Gair looked far too sure of what seemed to be a pathetic lob into the crowd of enforcers. “A-Are you engaging them!?” he yelled out to the ladder. “Don't engage them, you rock-headed quarter-wit!!” He immediately hid beneath the edge once more and slumped to the ground. *Mental note: time spent with Gair and his acquaintances more sobering than a funeral; next time spend a night alone with warm candlelight and a copy of 'Sketches of Divinity'.*

[Tretesta]

“You piss colored gobbue shits couldn't catch a rash in a whore house!” *Tret's voice faded out as he and his increasingly pissed off fan base tore off across the aftcastle. he began talking to himself as the froghopped over a low wall* “Ah shit… I've got a delivery out here in two weeks. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Please be there you bastards!”

[Gair]

“I'm not, it's just a little…escape surprise!” Gair yells up the ladder, clearly regretting his choice on the ladder as he swings freely in the air from the back of a moving aircraft.

Fortunately with the gift of flight, it doesn't take long for the airship to reach the armorer's guild, in anticipation for Tretty's arrival it begins to circle around the tower.

As if Gair were oscillating on a large fan, his voice would come in and out of earshot with the speed of the moving craft. “Treeee-tty…oveeeeer…heere!”

[Tretesta]

A significant commotion was kicked up at the dual purpose guild. Anvils were lept, mothers were cursed, and metal bars were thrown by the blue Hyur back at his motley crew of pursuers. Tret upended a conveniently placed box of fresh smithed iron nails from a passing table onto the ground behind him, hoping it was enough to get him the distance needed to wait for his ride to get close enough. He had but a moment to catch his breath and lookout for salvation. As the ship came circling around the spire, he caught sound of Gair's perilous yelling and started up at a run again. Around and behind the guild, Tret vaulted the gate and took a spread eagle leap over the bridge rope guides, reaching out desperately for the approaching ladder and Highlander.

Luck be damned, Tret could not be chained to the roll of the dice for his feat. He made contact with both hands: one on Gair's ankle, the other in the dangling ladder. He then quickly scrambled to secure a leg around the rope quickly, lest he lose his grip and take a swim below. Heart pounding in his ears and panting heavily, Tret released Gair, giving him a thumbs up and a grin after.

[Langston]

Langston peered over the starboard side of the ship. Or was it the port side? He couldn't be bothered to remember, but at least his life wasn't at stake for not knowing. Tret's escape was quite the spectacle, one that the smiths below couldn't quite look away from. Some stray marauders were cursing the gods as the ship continued to gain altitude. The Lalafell spotted a familiar figure; a brunette Miqo'te woman whose eyes were shrouded by goggles. He gave her a knowing wave which was met by the only strong retaliation the Limsans had made: a spinning raising hammer that smacked across the edge of the ship, perhaps a fulm away from his face.

Langston recoiled sharply and rolled backwards. He said a little prayer to himself and sighed, turning to the two Hyurs. “How cute, the reunion of the godsdamned bandits!” he said hysterically, crawling on all fours to meet them. “We should go before the guild uses their combined talents and anger to forge a harpoon big enough to skewer this flying bucket of bolts!”

[Xany]

Xany looking over the side making sure all members are aboard and yelling below while twirling his nonexistent mustache “HA HA! Now we make our great escape!” Then barely missing guild from not manning the wheel.

“Where to now my fellow privateers?!” He calls to the others while moving further away from the guild to prevent any unwanted Yellow Jackets from boarding.

[Gair]

Gair did his part to aid and abet Tretty's ascent, one leg coiled in the rope ladder as to not potentially slip out and have an untimely dip in the harbor. His parting gift for the Yellow Jackets that followed their azure hyur all the way to the edge of the guild: a metal cannister that hisses on it's way down. By the time they pull away, it's detonation is little more than a muffled pop that creates a sizeable smoke cloud in the distance.

After the other body has made it up onto the deck, Gair clambers up the rope ladder until he finally heaves himself over the railing and onto the deck. Wide-eyed and staring at the skies. “I…I have no idea why we're on a Twelvesdamned airship any more.” He admits, snapping up to a sitting position. “Xany, you fucking idiot! Bring us in low and fast. We gotta hide this bitch near the Mists and find a tavern's cups to shove our faces in.”

[Tretesta]

“Seemed like a fine idea at the time. Cat comes off the hot tin roof, Can't let him get shackled up and put a damper on the evening. Plus, I have a delivery to the Jackets next week. Mighty hard to do if I'm in a cell.” *Tret leaned back against the port railing after he got his feet under him aboard the ship. He flashed a mad grin at the enraged lalafel* “Langston, friend! Deep breath, we may have broken a handful of laws, but I'll not be called a thief! Not today. Yet. Vandal maybe. I could be a Vandal.” *He slumped back down, sitting now and just taking in the enjoyable, unarrested day.*

[Langston]

“Bandits, vandals, ne'er-do-wells, whatever gets you hot!” he said dismissively, peering over the edge once more. The ship was high enough that he couldn't make out any faces on the ground below. Walking to the other side of the ship, there was nothing visible but blue. All he could do was sigh. It wasn't all bad. *How often does one get to embark on a grand escape?* he thought. *As long as I'm a vandal, I might as well…*

Before his snap decision and ambition to take a piss off the edge of the ship was realized, he could see the residencies of the Mist come into view, but only briefly. The Vylbrand homes were blanketed by fog; a rather appropriate and fortuitous turn of events. This ragtag band of tail chasers (and Tret the Chaste, a nickname Langston would keep in his pocket for later) would be able to disappear in the cover of the clouds and traverse the Mist through the mist out of the midst of the chaos back in Limsa.

[Gair]

“Here's to hopin' there's another flock of three and a half men makin' as much trouble as we were, they can get the end of the catchpole instead'a us,” Gair comes to a stand slowly and shakes his head, all in all, he looked to be in high spirits. Much like a youth who had gotten away with tipping over someone's chocobos, or slipping ice shards into someone's drink. Meandering to the portside railing, making certain to not be downwind of Mr. Cl(annister)evers golden shower. Enticed by the encroaching view as they pass over the Mistgate. “Some bandits we are, lookie here at this view we stole.”

A warm glow graces the fog that blankets the Mists, a veritable cloud of fireflies made up of every window, street lamp and porch light. Even the Indigo Deep is shrouded beneath this veritable sheet, bathed in the silvery light of the Menphina's grace. (The moon)

[Langston]

The image of Gair in the corner of his eye caused him to feel a chill. Or perhaps it was something else? Regardless, he raised an eyebrow to the man, tucking away his business before turning towards the Highlander. “How long were you there for?” he asked, feeling his lips curl into a devilish smirk. “Try to contain your envy. Or lust, if that was the case.”

The airship set in low, piercing the veil of fog. Langston's initial frustrations from this detour seemed to have gotten lost in the clouds as he hopped off the ship as soon as they were low enough, into a patch of shrubbery to mask their arrival. He was completely unfamiliar with this odd area of the Mist. The lights were bright, and the air was rife with the muffled noises of jubilation and entertainment. “So, where the hells we were going, again? I seem to remember saying the word 'Clam Hammer' over and over, though whether or not that was a location or a dirty joke seems to have escaped my memory.”

[Tretesta]

“we've had less than a half hour adventure, and you've already forgotten your own holy land?” *Steadying himself against the railing of the descending airship, Tret got his feet beneath himself again and joined the others looking over the residential and small business district* “Well, assuming we skip the Hearth, my vote is we kick in the first door not barred shut, demand service, pay them for their trouble, and then repeat until we've run out of money or doors. Whichever comes last.” *He took a few seconds and patted himself down, then produced a hip flask that he'd take a quick swig from. With a grimace, he stowed the container again and leaned forward over the rail, looking to Langston* “What do ya say?”

[Gair]

“Long enough,” Gair snorts, not at all perturbed by ones snake or the threat of seeing one. “Pretty sure I've seen my fair share, though. You'll see your share of trouser worms when it comes time to wash up.”

With the descent of the airship in an otherwise improvised landing spot. The rope ladder was present for a short climb down.

Stepping up to the railing with the fixed ladder, Gair chimes in on Tretesta's suggestion. “If Mister Clevers is adverse to throwin' tankards, I can only imagine what he might think of kickin' in the door.”

[Langston]

“The rest of the plan is sound, at least.” he answered. “However, I suppose you'll have to settle on getting your thrills *somehow*, Tret the Chaste.” He laughed to himself, but the joke rang hollow, even to himself. Strange.

He and his company found himself at the doors of the Jolly Pecker, first. The lights inside were dim, but he could feel the air shake with the sounds of music. It was far more annoying that anything; Langston's ears had a tendency to be sensitive to noise, and such sensitivity was worse if he was in a bad mood and had nothing to distract him from it. Staring at the door, he could see it had been kissed by the bottom of various boots at various heights. He supposed it happened more often than he thought… The more he saw, the more he was feeling like the square.

Langston extended his arm towards the entrance. “Well, either of you want to do the honors?”

[Tretesta]

Tret raised a brow at the Lalafel, then reached up and tugged at his collar “Chaste? I didn't think I was in a priest's collar tonight. Work on it, friend. You're bound to have a better title by night's end”

Outside the bar, he was face in palm as they stood outside the first building they crossed, shaking his head “Cannot believe it. I missed this one on my bingo board. Ah well, C'est la vie.” At Langstons offer,Tret gave Gair's shoulder a pat and hooked a thumb at his own chest. Taking a few steps back, he rubbed his hands together and then framed up the door between them. He then good a quick jog at the door and-

Opened it like a goddamn civilized creature, letting the din of horn, flute, and drum out into the once relative stillness of the night. Looking about inside, he turned back to his companions and shrugged, waving them in as he disappeared into the fray, leaving the door open for the others.

[Lucas]

Now on their own home turf so to speak, the *really cool guy* had parked themself in a corner, enjoying some lemonade and keeping an excitable but watchful gaze on the entire tavern. They break into a wide smile on seeing the triumphant opening of the door by Tretesta, quickly clearing their throat to nobody in particular and watching as the enter. An idle hand rubs their mustache which had inadvertently been dipped into their lemonade on one end. *YES! I knew they would come this way!* they thought to themself, a complete roll of the dice rather than a result of intelligent forethought.

[Gair]

Gair trails in behind, happy for once to not be at the helm for one of these ventures. *For the best we ain't exactly making asses of ourselves, with any luck we're still gonna get hounded by the fucking Yellow Jackets. Last one in, he pushes the bar door open with a nominal amount of force. Stepping through and just letting the door shut under it's own weight behind him. “Least you can disappear in a crowd like this, Langston.” He notes ruefully, among the veritable crowd he definitely wouldn't be the tallest…but easily picked out from the lot. “This sky banditry's got me damn well thirsty,” he admits on heavy footfalls as he too makes way for the bar.

[Langston]

Langston walked in upon Tret's beckoning. The air was booming with the sound of a live band to the left of the bar; a harmony of brass and strings that was lively and pleasant. “All we have to do is avoid mentioning the word 'jacket' along with the color associated with that particular organization…” he said, motioning towards the crowd. There was an additional harmony of stepping shoes and delighted voices, dancing along to the tune. “…and there should be no problem. These people already look drunk off their ass, so I'm sure they don't care.”

He made a beeline to the bar first, seeing as any sort of alcohol in his system was burned away by their escape. The bartender was a burly Sea Wolf who wore his hair in a ponytail. The large man grinned and revealed more than one crooked tooth. *“An ale for your troubles, lad?”* asked the man. Langston accepted the offer and watched the mug become filled to the brim with a golden beverage. The Lalafell nodded in approval before taking a healthy gulp.

“Why do they call this the 'Jolly Pecker', anyway?” he asked. The deep green skinned man laughed and pointed one bulbous finger his way. *“Aye, son, 'cause yer guaranteed to leave here wif one!”* he said with a wink. Langston furrowed his brow at the man, leaning back a bit in his seat. “What… by whom? You?” he asked, perplexed by the man's manner of answer. The Roegadyn offered him only the dirtiest of looks. *“…Ye daft, laddie? It's the wenches!*”

The crowd was too thick for him to see through, even while sitting on a stool. Instead, he turned his attention to the imposing Roegadyn woman that sat beside him. She was looking idly at the patrons with an unamused look. Perhaps she needed some company? Langston decided to try his luck, though his reluctance tugged at him. “…Care to dance?” he asked, not knowing what else to say. The woman glanced down at him for a fraction of a second before rising from her seat. *“Aye, brilliant plan. You hold on to me shin and we'll sway gently through the night.”* she answered, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

[Tretesta]

To replace the Roega-dame that left, the blue haired hyur (having gained a tricorn cap and a glass of ice in the few minutes he slipped out of sight) joined the pair at the counter. “Tough loss, friend. That's a benefit of chastity, you know: never getting rejected. Gives you all the power!” Tret pulled his new hat off and fanned himself lightly with it, taking a peek into the brim and then looking down to Langston “You could always go in with the worst lines in the world. Keep expectations low, have fun with it, and occasionally make someone laugh enough to take you up on the offer.”

He paused in reflection on his advice and the empty glass he held in his other hand, turning to the Sea Wolf barkeep with a smile “Good evening, sir! I was sent up here for a refill! Master Hasthwab says another round of three for his table!” He rattled the ice in the glass and waved the hat he held gently.

With a nod of recognition, the bartender would turn and fetch two more glasses of ice and a bottle. Taking Tret's empty, all three would be filled with a dark liquid and remark* “On 'is tab, I assume?”

“You know how he is. Hopefully he settles up proper tonight!” Tucking the hat under his arm, Tret Carefully took all three drinks. He stopped to give Langston a nudge with his elbow and Gair a light kick in the shin, then made his way towards a table that had been mostly abandoned, only empties taking up space as its former occupants had gone to join the music. At the table, he laid out bounty out for the other two “Alrighty friends, this round on me. And our new friend, Hasthwab.”

[Xany]

From the table it is hard to keep track of where Xany gone off too, at times he is spotted skirting around the dance floor chatting up some of the ladies and Pointing over at the table the three have taken up. Eventually Xany makes his way over to the table with an arm full of drinks to pass around on top of what's already at the table along with some new company. And finds himself a seat. Pointing at the men at the table “That's Langston, Gair, and Tret but he kinda off limits or so I'm told.” Giving a playful nudge to tret while there is a group of disappointed groans from the group. “Aww come now he still talk your ear off sit drink!” As he hands each one a drink.

[Gair]

Gair was never good with the humidity of La Noscea, given all the action of the night and the heated atmosphere of the Jolly Pecker. *Should have worn my kilt,* he bemoans to himself and threads off his bandana to use as a sweat rag for his chin and neck. Eyes taken off of the heads around him for a moment, he looks around to orient himself in this sea of people. Finding the face of a Keeper of the Moon square in front of him, lilac hair. *That can't be natural, wonder if the carpet matches.*

The lilac-haired woman fans herself as she returns his look, baring her fangs with a smile. Her pose suggestive, favoring to push out certain assets. “My, my…so far from home, a griffin I wouldn't mind riding.” Gair is ashamed to admit that line would have worked on him a few turns ago.

She wants something, just piss her off

He asks with all the wherewithal and tact of a cyclops that just learned his first curse. “How much you cost, anyway?”

Incredulous and offended, her tail shoots up, bristled. “Well ain't that a nice way to talk to a lady?”

He flashes a shit-eating grin, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Didn't realize I was talkin' to a *lady*.”

The lilac-haired Miqo'te stomps off in a huff and Gair finds himself in the company of everyone else once more, extending a hand out for his share. “So, gentlemen, what do we drink to?”

[Langston]

Langston catches the scene from the corner of his eye. Gestures and body language paint an exquisite tale, and he couldn't help but laugh to himself as Gair sauntered over to their stolen table. “Suddenly, I don't feel so bad for being brushed off like unwanted lentils.” he said, shooting the Highlander a smirk. “Did you insult her mother or something?”

“We'll, uh… drink to good friends…?” he said, shifting his eyes around to his company. He realized how stupid that sounded to himself; he was hardly friends with these people. Still, he kept his glass raised and awaited a tap, not caring if someone came up with a better toast or not.

After a quick gulp of his free drink, the band suddenly stopped playing and was met by a round of applause. The lights in the establishment were dimmed, just enough to notice but not enough to obscure anyone's features. The orchestrion was tapped on to fill the quiet air with a dark and sultry tune. It was easier on the Lalafell's ears, that was for certain. Things felt like they were taking a turn for the better, and nothing punctuated that thought better than Xany's extra company.

Among that lot was a Raen woman. As pale as ivory, she kept her chestnut hair in a neat bob that was hard to ignore, for her grey eyes were burning a hole through Langston. He looked back and smiled politely. *“You're Langston Clevers.”* she said, smiling right back.

“I am.” he answered. “Do I know you?”

The young woman nearly sprung from her seat and lifted Langston up from his, immediately taking him into her lap with an overjoyed expression painting her features. Now that he was close, he could smell the booze on her breath. Coherent enough to speak clearly, yet drunk enough to grab a Lalafell like her personal plush doll. *“You were the cook for our company's anniversary! Everything was so delicious, but you left before we could talk more!”

“I do try my best.” he said, embracing this moment. “Now, what would a sweet young lady like yourself want with a man like me?” Langston turned his head back to his party for a moment with the most smug look that screamed 'Yes, that easy, fellows. Envy your three foot hunk of an acquaintance.'

[Lucas]

The *really cool guy* is caught off-guard by the sudden lights dimming, looking around for some sort of reason. Their eyes fall on the orchestrion, narrowing at it as if accusing it of some grave misdeed. After a moment, they begin to rub their mustache once more, still oblivious to the sugary stain on the end of it. From a relatively distant table they continue to watch the familiar group. Though they can't hear what Gair says to the woman, it's abundantly clear it was impolite. Their face turns into a frown, but is quickly cleansed of displeasure as their eyes fall upon Tretesta delivering more drink. *I wonder what they're drinking! I bet it's gross!* They tilt their head slightly as they see Xany bring more women to the table. *I wonder who that is… They sure have a lot of friends!* They're quickly pulled out of that thought as Langston is so promptly lifted, their face returning to a frown and reaching out a hand as if to say no. They catch themselves after a moment and let their hand fall on to their table, using it to take a drink from their lemonade. *Man these guys sure are being silly!*

[Tretesta]

Tret trades Xany a glass of the pilfered rum for the offered mug of ale, then tosses the stolen hat out into the crowd. A young midlander lad caught it, looked around, and then donned it to show his friends. “Gair is accepting any touches and gropes that might be meant for me tonight, generous bastard! Appreciate you, Xany!” *At Gair's urging, his mug went up and Tret would look about the collective* “Drink to? Ah! Ahem. May we get what we want, but never what we deserve. *Sahlood!*” *He had scarce a moment before Langston was manhandled away to knock his glass, then Gair's and Xany's in turn, finally gesturing broadly to the faceless strangers that had joined them.

Satisfied, he brought the mug to his mouth and drained it by half before setting it back on the table, looking at it for a few quiet blinks before turning a smile to the gathering. As if just noticing he left, Tret looked over and took a few moments to size up the 'trouble' their small friend was in.* “Going to run off already to talk and make sure the little lady is full and satisfied again, Langston?”

[Gair]

Gair answers Langston from his cups, failing to hide a rather smug smirk behind the wooden container. “The Warden's truth burns sisters of the moon, it seems!” *A good a toast as any, hells.* “To our wants, and may we outrun the consequences!” Glug, glug, glug, there's a frothy moustache about his real one. He lowers his tankard with a satisfied, “Ahhh… that hits the fuckin' spot.” Eyeing the rather suave skill put on display by the halfman in their midst, he points him out with a pointed finger. He says conspiratorially to Xany and Tretesta both. “I swear that little man's bewitched, some sorta enchantment's over 'im, or a Twelvesdamned curse.”

[Langston]

“Warden's truth!” echoed Langston, who was enjoying a gentle brushing of fingers through his ash brown hair. “Just make sure the honesty of the gods doesn't thrust us into another conflict.”

The Raen's eyes pointed toward Tret and she offered him a light shrug. *“There's no way he could feed me here.” she answered, her words seeming a little ominous. The young lady's hand reached to caress Langston's face as she continued. *“And I can bet this big man is blessed in many a way, Highlander. I'll prove it!”* Before Langston could even object, he was lifted and whisked away to the dance floor.

The Lalafell shuffled his feet left and right to the beat, standing opposite of the Raen and mirroring her motion. *“Are they your friends?”* she asked. Langston looked over to his left with a scowl. Xany's machinations put them into a pickle, and Tret's burning optimism through that whole ordeal put a stick in his craw. Yet, now that it was all over, it was a rather fun detour. That only left Gair, who was grinning his bright grin in the distance. The Highlander's recklessness and clear disrespect to Pino was still fresh in his mind, and part of him only came out to settle the score with the man. Yet, that same impulsiveness got them all this far, and Langston couldn't help but find some of that youthful energy endearing. His scowl melted into a frown before he turned back to the woman. “…Not really.” he said hesitantly.

“That's alright. We're friends now.”* she declared confidently. “I'm Aki.”
He offered his hand in a handshake only for her to take it in dance. The Raen's skirt was just long enough to cover the essentials even as she spun and swayed into the energetic air of the tavern. Langston was tempted to stand still and stare at the spectacle in his sights, but his senses told him to dance along and cut up the floor with her. Even the dismissive Roegadyn woman from earlier looked on, impressed by their movement and energy.
The music died down and their movement stopped. A light applause sounded through the tavern once more before the orchestrion clicked on to something more casual. Langston wiped the sweat off his brow and laughed softly. “Hah! You're a damn impressive sight! Shame we can't dance to this.” Aki gave him a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. *“Oh, I know where we could still tango… Come on!”* She took him by the hand once more, quickly leading him to the entrance, and out the door they went.

[Tretesta]

Tret wouldnt even get the chance to bring up further innuendo about cheese wheels before the lalafel was stolen from them. He stared at the spot the two were previously blankly for one more beat. With a shrug, he turned back to his drink and others that remained. A swig of the former and the token midlander nodded to Gair “Perhaps he's just in love. The kind of love brought on by strong drink and bountiful… What's the word…” His free hand gestured idly in a slow circle near his chest as he struggled to find the thought, seeking the answer in his mug. The right word struck him as he finished the ale and he'd set the mug back down for good “Energy! There it is. She was hell-bound to thank him for the food he made, seems.”

Tret would absently join the applause as the band went on break, keeping part of his attention on the two on the dance floor for a bit longer. Then he'd look back to Gair, seconds before Langston was stolen off to learn some new moves. “So, Brandt. I don't think I ever asked. Why take up with the Flames? Surely a man of your ability could make a better living elsewhere in this world. I thought you might be a gladiator of some kind when we met.”

[Gair]

In the spirit of challenging Aki to escalate further with Langston, Gair wags his brows toward the Raen woman and tells her. “I'm dyin' to see it, lassy!” Before the duo tear it up and swing on the floor, his left pounding on the table with the beat. Applauding soon after with the rest, for both Langston and the end of the live performance. *Looks like he found one to gawk at up close, not a bad catch.* He mock-toasts their departure with his cup and takes another steady draught.

Gair recites something sounding like a propagandist recruitment poster. “Fight for your city, earn gil and glory by the fistful! Be the Flame of Might for the prosperity of Ul'dah.” He waves his hand in a wide arc over his head, as if to plaster the words on a wall. “What boy wouldn't jump at chasin' heroism? To be a part of somethin' bigger than they is.” He didn't seem bitter about it, but not exactly proud either. “But now? It's comfortable, consistent, pays decent. And I can still prize fight and all the like on the side, hell, even the ol' general did just that.”

[Langston]

They danced barefoot on the sand to nothing but the sound of crashing waves onto the shore. Though there was a deliberate and beautiful, wild energy to her steps, it seems the lack of actual rhythm, or perhaps the presence of inebriation in both of them, eventually caused Aki to slip and fall upon the unprepared Langston, leaving him pinned beneath her body. His eyes were closed as he was struck by laughter. Once he opened them, the sights of Vylbrand were eclipsed by the Raen's bare chest.

Though his charm had prevailed, his hands couldn't comply. His head plopped onto the sand beneath him and he closed his eyes once more. “Apologies… I can't.” he said softly.

Aki looked puzzled. She shifted her body up and down, calling upon physics to assist in her allure. *“Something wrong with them?”* she asked.

“No, they're fine. Splendid, even! It's just…” His thoughts darted around, scrambling for an excuse. “…Well, I'm a married man.”

With those words, she tucked her breasts away under her blouse again, rolling off him to take a seat to his right. *“Strange. That didn't matter when we first met. In fact, you were leaving in a hurry to stick your business elsewhere.”*

Ah, how those words stung him. It was visible in his eyes. Caught in his own lie, he sighed in defeat. “Yes, you're right. It's just… I came out tonight for another purpose. If I had any fun along the way, then so be it. But, this sort of fun defeats the reason I came out here in the first place. Why come to defend someone's honor when I'm trampling all over it?”

The woman giggled to herself before tapping Langston's nose with a slender index finger. “Looks like someone has figured out their priorities.” she said in a teasing, sing-song sort of way. “No shame in that! I'll just have to wait until the next life to be your priority instead.” She reached out to undo a single beaded braid of his, throwing the beads and feather into the sea. Her hands ruffled her own brown hair before messing with his, too. “Leave the shoes behind, as well.”

“What's all this about?”

“You said you don't like those guys back there, right? We'll make it look like we had a good romp while they were just drumming their fingers. Assuming you're truly set on not doing it, of course…” She stood up and assisted him up as well with a genuine grin.

His mind did pause upon her words and he couldn't help but reach up with one hand to check the cake. “That's good… but, no, I'm feeling nothing.”

She rolled her eyes before letting out a stifled laugh. “You're a good man, Langston. Now lets go back and make pretend you were a bad one.”

[Tretesta]

Tret could only shake his head and laugh into his beer as Gair went on and on, setting it down and blinking a few times at the drink* “Think I never had the urge to be the hero. *Pa*…ther didn't raise any of us to seek glory, but to grow and survive.” *He shook his head hard as he started to slur a bit, then looked over at the highlander and shrugged* “Heroes tend to burn out quickly, I'll take being a random face, neh? Speaking of…” *He stood up quickly, knocking his chair backwards as he peered out over the crowd* “We've been missing a face a bit long. Hate to leave a man behind, but I'm growing bored and ready to harass more people. What do you think?”

[Gair]

Gair polishes off the last of his cup and sets it haphazardly on the table, the container clattering across the surface to fall on it's side. He stares at it, his reactions slowed by the drink, an amused snort elicited from a cup falling over. Fucking dumbass. “That and most poor saltborn like me got that 'For Ala Mhigo' nonsense all drilled into our fuckin' heads.” His inhibitions low, and he's quite loud with his opinions, which draw the gaze of more than a few men flying purple on their garb. He points at Tretty, “Itsssfuckin' bullshit, all of it.” He wags his finger a second and third time.

At the suggestion of the Azure haired Hyur, Gair acquiesces easily enough. The topic of conversation coming and going like the wind to him, he stares at the myriad of heads around them. Missing the dirty looks from a handful of Gyr Abanians. “What if that whitehorn was actually succubus? We might have to go…rescue Langston.”

[Lucas]

The really cool dude continues watching from afar, their face moving through reactive emotion whether they wished to or not. Where did that woman take Langston!? Is he gonna be okay? Whoa, he's getting really loud! Despite natural curiosity clawing at their mind and body, the really cool dude stays put. *I don't want to stop them, I shouldn't even be here! I'll have to ask her why they're acting so silly!*

[Tretesta]

“Mounting a rescue to rescue the mounted… I don't know if we're ready for that….*saygoond*…” Tret staggered a few steps backwards, melding into the crowd of patrons around him. Moments later, he pushed his way roughly between the Gyr Abanians that had been giving Gair the stink eye. Holding three glasses of dark liquor across the table from the other two, Tret stretched across the top to give a glass each to the companions he came in with. Knocking a few glasses over and off on the delivery and draw back, he took the third glass for himself “Right then. Up, down, center, and in, drink up. We should go find him. Or leave. Or both. Now-ish.” He would not wait for the others, pounding his drink after he finished and turning the glass over on the table.

It appeared Tretesta was not nearly as subtle this time. A pair of the miffed highlanders behind him were shoved roughly aside by a bald Roegadyn. The mountain of a man stepped forward to loom over the chocobo wrangler who had stolen from him twice now. Thrice if you count the extra drinks on the bar tab.
Whar's me hat, ya lil' shit?
A few things happened, almost simultaneously. Hasthwab saw and was distracted briefly by a young man nearby wearing his hat. A thoroughly pissed off highlander threw a sucker punch at the taller man, fueled by , alcohol, disrespect of his home, and the rude shove. And Tret disappeared below the table, popping up a few beats later between Xany and Gair to watch the shit show unfold

[Langston]

The air the duo was met with was hot with the shouts and flying fists of irrationally angry men. *“Ah, shit…“* said Aki, sucking her teeth. “Didn't think it'd be a night of broken glass. We should've taken the shoes.”

Langston looked up at her, slightly worried. “Should I go back for them?”

“No need.” she said, scooping him up in her arms. “Thanks for the wild night, Langston!!” she yelled loudly and clearly, right before flinging him across the bar, hopefully landing him right back to his table.

The intent was noble, but he found himself flung a little too far, past the violence and onto a somehow quiet table occupied by a dainty and pretty young man with a big mustache. The small man landed with a thud upon the wooden table flat on his back. He turned to his right and saw a wincing Aki in the distance. He replied with a thumbs up and the Raen laughed, making her way out of the door once more. Then, he turned to his left, taking note of the positively cute… man with the powerful upper lip fur. “Apologies!” was all he said, and then he was gone, hopping over two tables to be back with his group, for the worst.

“I was gone for a delightful half of a bell and this is going on right behind me!” he said, standing proudly on the table and looking down on the party. “What did you do, and how fast do we need to run to save our 'jolly peckers'?”

[Gair]

“The fuck do you mean your hat you dumb fuckin'-” Gair was in the process of acting a fool to the bald Roe, utterly cut off by the heavy meaty thwack of a fist hitting the tall guy in the face. Twelve, thank you for this gift. It was his opportunity to indulge chaos, he needed to hit something, anything, and both of these fuckers looked just right.

The mountain of a Roe turned to the highlander who had struck him, he didn't even budge. But he looked pissed, ready to clean the chronometers of him and his friends. That is, until…

Gair clapped and hurtled his tankard into the air to the bewilderment of the duo, spraying a fine mist of bitter ale to the area. Our Gyr Abanian and Sea Wolf both looked up to watch the tankards ascent. That is, until the Flame surged forward, both fists clenched. A haymaker to either's jaw, with a spray of blood and spittle coming from the highlander's mouth as he falls into the adjacent table. The Sea Dog was shaken to the bone, staggered, his legs were jelly, and he too collapses into another gathering.

That's your 20 roll, cowabunga
It was a domino effect from there, the Gyr Abanian's buddies reached for bottles from another table to set onto Gair with. The folk missing their bottles turned their ire onto others and quickly a melee began to break out.

[Lucas]

The really cool dude is completely caught off-guard by Langston's sudden return upon their table, yelping as their eyes follow the man as he retreats back towards his friends. They barely have time to ponder further before a fight breaks out thanks to a rowdy Highlander (big shock). There's a sense of entertainment from a bar brawl for a moment before blood starts to actually fly, causing the really cool dude to yelp again and sink in their seat, only leaving their face and hands clutching the table visible. Oh this is bad.

[Tretesta]

Tret watched the entire scene unravel infront of him, blinking hard a few times to clear his vision of the drink he just threw back. As Langston suddenly took up the entirety of his vision, Tret would smile at the lalafel and nod “*Yesth*! I can be… how do you say…effithent when I have a mind to!” He retreived his flask from a pocket, took a quick swig, then grimmaced and shook his head hard. Stowing the rest away, Tret looked around to evaluate the trouble. Ah, that's where it-

SUCKERPUNCH 2: Electric Boogaloo! Distracted as the Roegadyn had been by the same man wearing a tricorn cap, Tret caught a fist from a miqo'te across his cheek that staggered him back into another brawling pair. He was pushed back upright on his feet, yelling out “*Pinchay!*” His mothertongue came out on full blast as yelled at the cheap shot artist and squared up. It was unlike anything heard before, but certainly nothing nice was being said about the assailant or their mother. Rather than close in for fisticuffs, Tret quickly grabbed the legs of the chair he'd knocked over a short time ago and threw it at the general direction of the catboy. The projectile flew mostly true but caused collateral damage on the way, clearing out some semblance of a path.

Spitting blood to the side and rubbing his struck cheek, Tret pointed to the slightly cleared path “Langston, back door, you and Xany. Save your own peckers. Gotta get *him* out because I'm not done out here yet..” Tret pushed a sleeve up, grabbed a nearby empty bottle, and melded into the fray, on course for Gair and the trouble he was in/causing

[Xany]

Watching everyone fighting in a mosh pit of sorts, Xany climbs up on a table while polishing off his tankard “Woooooo!” As he launches himself off the table in a graceful spread eagle only to be cought by none other then a swollen face black eyed blooded nose Catdady “Thought I wouldn't get off my own ship eh?” Xany now wide eyed “uh oh…” before being lifted off the floot an put through the table they once sat at. Luto standing over Xany “little fucker.” Then Luto walks over to the bar and orders a drink to watch the rest of the shenanigans unfold. Xany remains where he was dropped “uhhhh.” He squeaks.

[Langston]

Langston hopped backward, avoiding the big cat man being put through the table he was standing on. “W-Well, if I have your blessing, Tret…” he said, though not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear. He darted off to the side to hop across some tables to make his escape. Sadly, his first jump landed him in the grip of some unfamiliar Roegadyn. *No shoes, no service, ya lil' shite!”* growled the man with a wicked grin. He took Langston and swung him hard across Gair's back. The impact left Langston dazed more than hurt as he rolled onto the floor afterwards. Still, he had an out! So long as he could avoid the stomping feet of the riot, he could escape!

Still, it did not come to pass. A stray Highlander hand took hold of his collar and he was off the floor once more. More effectively, the Gyr Abanian formed a fist with his fingers and landed a straight punch at Langston's eye. The pain seared from this solid hit. Langston, however, was just drunk enough and angry enough to retaliate against his better judgment. He raised his hands up and completely slipped out of his shirt, landing on his feet before jumping at the larger man and taking hold of his neck.

[Gair]

Crash! Gair takes a bottle over the head, beer and glass splashing all around. “Motherfucker!” He growls out, snatching one of the tankards off of the table to use as an improvised set of knuckles. Engaging in a slugfest with the remaining friends of our K.O'd Saltborn from before, the wooden tankard exploding on contact in a shower of wood and *more* beer and just as many bruises as he gives. He would stumble forward at the veritable SteeLangston chair bashed over his back, whirling around and surprised to actually see him amid the melee.

“When the fuuuuck did you get here?!” Gair slurrs his question, a mix of genuine confusion and heralding a man's triumphant return. “SO YA GAVE HER THE CHEESE WHEEL, DID'JA?!”

Fully intent on helping, Gair surges in on the highlander Langston is shirtlessly grabbing the neck of. Getting all manner of cheap shots in on his ribs from behind, less trying to finish the fight, but keep them softened up for the lalafelin to deliver his telling blow.

[Tretesta]

A midlander with a jagged bottle advanced on Gair's unprotected back. Raising the weapon to score big points in the brawl, he would then sigh and collapse to the floor. As he dropped, he revealed the blue haired friend, who appeared to be kicking something on the floor away. Satisfied with his work, Tret stepped over the sleeping man and called to Gair in a low tone, “Sergeant. We go. Now.” He'd place a hand on the allied Highlander's shoulder as he spoke and then look up to Langston executing a wonderful Master Blaster impression “Huh. You too, Back door. Do what you must” Tretesta then melted backwards into the melee, making his way back to their table to try and collect their cat friend.

[Langston]

Langston takes the Highlander, staggering from the repeated blows by Gair, and lands a promising punch right between the man's eyes. The man falls to his knees, stunned by the onslaught. “Cheese whee– o-oh, right!” he said excitedly. “Yeah, that girl isn't walking home straight tonight. I'm glad you weren't there; you would have been ashamed of your own manhood!” he boasted on the greatest of lies. Tret, now being more demanding, was far more in sync with the Lalafell's more rational mindset. “If you all had your fill of bloodshed, we should probably escape as the blue man suggests.” he said.

The Roegadyn who had just used him as a weapon was ready to snatch him again, but Langston saw through his sloppy assault and landed a haymaker right across the man's jaw. The sotted Roe landed on the floor, stunned by the Lalafell's surprising strength at that moment. “Yes, that does it! I've had my fill of this shit!” he yelled, running and jumping across bodies to avoid any glass in his feet and made it to the back door safely.

[Gair]

“Tomcat'll be fine!” Gair assures Tretty, whirling around in surprise as he just *barely* escapes being stabbed by a jagged bottle. *Whew, I didn't need to explain a stabbing to Miyuki next I see her!* He flashes an affirmative thumbs up toward the Azure haired among them, having the presence of mind to snatch up the discarded Lalafelin shirt and make a break for the door. ”'Fore the Yellow Jackets come to break this up!“ He agrees with the sound for the retreat, vaulting a couple tables, some far less graceful than others before he breaks for the back door behind the bar.

“Well, a fight's always good after a fuck, or issit the other way around?!” He slurrs, black-eyed with a rather large knot on the top of his head.

[Tretesta]

Tret awaited the pair outside, sitting on a fence across from the back door, drinking deeply from canteen he'd picked up from… Somewhere. Sporting a nice bit of swelling on the side of his face, and having lost a short sleeve since he last saw them, Tret seemed to still be in good spirit. Tossing the empty container off the ledge behind him into another yard, he hopped off, albiet a little unsteady on the landing, to approached the beragged duo and clapped his hands together “I don't normally recommend mixing the two, Gair. But excellent first stop.” He reached over and tore the other sleeve off his shirt, then rolled his shoulders and grinned* “I think it's time we thought out the legendary Clam'ammer. The moon is barely center sky. At the very least…” Tret would wander over and take a peek around the corner of the building, then turn back “Move along quietly. Quite sure a man died in there.” Tret then trailed off, muttering quietly to himself “Clam….Clamar. Clamamamar… hahaha see yes…”

[Lucas]

The really cool dude just stays seated, head barely above the table. “Wooooooow.” is all they can manage. *That was like one of those silly stories where people act all crazy! They look around at the carnage left behind, a mix of shock and awe swirling around. “Man, they're so…. mean when they drink!” They nod to themselves as they slowly come to a stand, opting to wait a while before leaving the tavern and heading for the airship to return home. Mission complete!

[Langston]

The riotous crowd in the bar could still be heard from outside; you could feel the heat and vibrating energy if you stood close enough to one of the windows. Langston turned behind him. How strange it was for them not to be pursued, he thought. In the combat high of anger and testosterone (he couldn't recall a single woman's fist being thrown), the light party was all but forgotten by the angry patrons.

Langston snatched the shirt from Gair's hand, buttoning it up carefully after draping it over himself. “Luckily I won't have to go home naked…” he muttered. Though there were no stray shards of glass in his feet, he was still painted with an uncommonly high color on his face and was nursing the fist he took to the eye; he could feel the blood trickle from his brow. “Twice now, you've somehow made a dangerous situation out of something so absolutely mundane. Perhaps I shouldn't act so surprised, however. It seems that you're more likely to achieve release from danger rather than a good woman.” He was staring at Gair, of course, while saying all of this. It was becoming far more difficult to restrain himself on how he was feeling. Without the battle high and the need to survive, his friendly demeanor was fading.

[Gair]

“I could go with a release, ain't nothin' like a woman affer'a'fight. Lets hope the Clam'ammer's a kinder affair.” Gair says offhandedly, still gathering himself and catching his breath for the moment. He looks around as they navigate the back exit they found themselves trailing out of. His hands checking the sabre on his belt to ensure he hadn't lost steel during their scuffle. A latch pulled on a fence's gate, he cranes his head back to Langston as the pretense of friendliness was dropping. Rather slow on the uptake between head trauma and liquor.

“The fuck you mean twice?” He asks, managing to not slur his words as he swings the gate open. “It was that damn tomcat bringin' that airship into town, seems I'm the one who catches other people's shit. Usually do.”

[Tretesta]

Tret turned as tensions rose. As he'd have liked to inside earlier, this would be the point where he would slip off into another yard and disappear into the night. But… He was growing to like these two. Especially Cheese Wheel. With a bit of a stagger, the middle heighted of them approached the pair again and decided to try and diffuse “Now, now, now… its me to be mad at, I think? Hm… Stole some drinks… a hat, of course… tore apart a guild… may have called someone's mother a gobbue fucker…” he patted his hips, then produced a slightly liquor stained handkerchief from his pocket. It was offered to Langston, then Tret took a deep breath of the night air, closing his eyes to try and focus ”…But if we're going to fight as well, let's get it done with and back on task.“

[Langston]

Langston narrowed his eyes at Gair. He took note of Tret's words reaching his ears, though these notes were scribbled in the part of his mind labeled “Ire” in bright lights. “Fine. But I'm not finished with you.” he said, pointing a stiff finger at the Highlander before turning around to the more deserving target. Well, at least in the context of these accusations.

With a flick of his wrist, Langston gave a sharp backhand to Tret's hand, slapping the handkerchief out of it and onto the ground between them. ”'Back on task'! How very ho-hum of you! The only 'task' I had was to settle the score with this fool, yet somehow you managed to pile on fifty more! But since you're so duty oriented, I'll happily hop 'back on task'!“

And that was about the only hint he gave for what happened next, for Langston did, indeed, ~~happily~~ viciously hop straight onto the blue-haired, infinitely loyal husband, taking a hold of his collar. From his right arm came a flurry of half-drunken fists, yet, through some conscious effort, kept them aimed directly away from his face. Why was he hesitating? His mind couldn't offer any answers no matter how hard he looked. But perhaps, if he looked elsewhere, he could conclude that these people didn't deserve it.

[Tretesta]

Tret blinked several times as the kerchief was slapped away, unable to quite process why. “Score… Fool… Manya-GAH!” Round two was quickly underway and Tret staggered backwards under the weight and ferocity of the Lalafel attacker. Coughing and sputtering as his throat and chest took a beating, Tret Wrapped his arms around Langstons waist and threw himself back and sideways, trying to twist the smaller man below him into a suplex

[Gair]

Gair was growing increasingly belligerent with the suggestions that there was any score to settle at all, given that he could place precisely where their beef is. Oh, so he's got a chip for what I said before. Really?

“What fuckin' score, huh? You gettin' on my case too cause of that little ginger freak?!” He looks mildly for a moment that Tretty of all people suddenly became the target of his violence, he howls out irritated. Now emboldened by violence prior and current.

“Hey, HEY! The herder's a dumbass but your shit's with-” He is cut off as he steps in to intervene with the exchange of blows and grappling going on. Perhaps a bit rougher than intended as he makes a grab for the back of Langstons shirt and the sleeve of Tretty's own to try and pull them apart.

[Langston]

“Wh-what did you say?” uttered Langston, completely confused at Tret's words. Suddenly, he was in the man's grasp before he got an answer and was propelled backwards. Though he barely managed to slip through his grip, he still landed hard on the cobblestone floor. Picking himself up, he ran to jump on Tret's chest before he felt a strong hand pull him off the ground.

Being suspended in the air like a bomb plush in a moogle's paw only really served to infuriate him more. “You people are… absolutely ridiculous!!” he yelled, flailing helplessly in Gair's grip. The steam coming from his pointed ears was almost visible in his frustration, but he had no place to go at this point. Langston deflated with a deep sigh, turning his gaze to Gair, though his glower was anything but deflated. “Grandfather always told me to reserve my judgments, for my life is a charmed one. But I can't, here. You're too fucking dense. I'm not going to sit here and play papa to you, Gair. I can't control what you do. You want to have picnics in the sun with Eligor, have a fuckin' ball. I don't care.”

“What I do care about, however, is the person who told you not to. She's liberated, earned her right to stand on her own two feet after so many years of not being able to. Now imagine her being treated like an incapable, feeble child, being told to avoid danger by those who she wishes to be as equals to, and those same people running headlong into the same danger they deterred her from. A new set of chains from a new set of people she is supposed to trust.”

Langston lets out another flurry of limbs to try and break free, but none make their mark, even in what he presumed to be a lowered mood. Moreover, the booze and beatings were starting to set in, killing his energy. “Lemme say this before I black out. Have your adventures. But if you insult the lady again with your spit or words… Even if you break every bone in my body, I'll make sure you'll be checkin' your own shits for teeth…”

[Tretesta]

Tret also hit the ground harder than he'd have liked to, and without a lalafel to hug and pummel. Given the time to do so by langstone failure to jump on him, he kicked back up to his feet and assumed boxing stance. This immediately relaxed and Tret staggered to his right after Gair grabbed him. He produced his flask from a back pocket with his free hand, gave it an experimental shake, then popped it open and drained the rest. After the last drop, he stowed the metal container away again and gently shook the hand off him, taking a step backwards

“The hell is an eligor….wait, Sarge, who the hell are you spitting on?” Pain was setting in finally and sobering him up. Which was not what he wanted right now. “Alright, alright, alrigh arigh ari… why couldn't we get this out of the way before hand? I am three beers behind right now, and I need you to to kiss and make up so we can get back on track, damn it!” He wandered a short distance aways, walking a slow circle, muttering rapidly and frustratedly to himself in his mother tongue, certainly unheard by the other two ”[Dicks in vinegar! We need to go. Police will want answers. Son of a bitch why right now. Ahhhhhh fuck!]“

[Gair]

“Fuckin', I didn't…aargh!” Gair's center of balance has since been lost, and with the furious toddler-sized man in his hand surely didn't help matters. Whack! He goes right onto his ass, not wanting to move for the moment. The highlander youth just sits there like a child, a big dopey child frustrated with his timeout. “She earned it, you know! Like any other man throwin' shit!” His tone irate, even sounding betrayed as he pounds a hand over his heart for emphasis. “It weren't me who told her she couldn't deal with 'im, hell, she asked me'ta come along when she was negotiatin' with him!”

Bleary, unfocused green eyes flit around from Tretty to Langston. “She's the one been treatin' me like her lesser, I can take her shittin' on my head- but when she starts pullin' my hair to wipe her own arse…” He impotently pounds a hand on the cobbles, digging various debris into his own hand. “Even I got limits!”

[Langston]

Langston fell to the floor; at this point he was too annoyed to even argue with him. Perhaps there was more to the story than he knew, but he certainly didn't care to find out. “Oh, to hells with all this…” he said, lying flat on his back and pressing his hand on his cut. “I don't care what happened between you two. I'm the one who wakes up next to her, even though she's already been wide awake for bells, beside herself with fear of her own nightmares. I see what that is and I have to tolerate the bad decisions she made to make that happen, no matter how much it pisses me off. You had to take a little insult from a stressed woman and within a second, I'm wiping your saliva off Luna's floor like some jackass and holding back my anger for you.”

“Fuck all this.” he said, sitting up. “Neither words or fists are going to reach you. It's not my place to tell you what to do, anyway. Either you'll fix it yourself or you'll act like a little shit again and we're back here staring daggers at one another.” Looking up to Tret and seeing his little fit of panic, he ends up shaking his head. “You wanna vanish, we can vanish. Frankly, I don't even care if we hammer any more clams or if we just go the hells home.”

[Tretesta]

Tret breaks his own mental loop, spinning on a heel and looking at the two on the ground, unblinkingly for a few moments. Slowly, he approached the pair and squats down, more to their level. Slowly, a smile spreads back on his face. He reaches over for his nearby slapped kerchief, then throws it over Langstons head, then sighs “I am woefully lost in your little spat. But dear God, you both are the most sensitive little shits. Langston, you do care about whatever happened, because you've just spent the last five minutes trying to punch the Sargeant's face in. But it sounds like it isn't your fight to begin with. If your woman was as free as you say she is, that's her punch to swing, otherwise it's you helping lock the cage. How about you encourage and help her to finish her own fights?”

“Annnnnnnnnd you, dipshit” The now menacing smile turned on Gair. Tret's patience for needless drama was wearing dangerously thin “How about we learn to talk about our issues with a friend, neh? Surely you didn't get promoted as far as you did only because of how hard you can hit….scratch that. You're certainly showing well for the Ala Mhigan people by acting like a damn savage. Someone said a mean word to you! However will you cope? Don't show your ass, and use your fucking words to deal with this woman who has so sorely offended you. You hot headed overractive pansy.”

With a grunt, Tret stood back up and headed for the fence “Now… There's a dead man in that bar. Someone's gonna start asking questions if everywhere nearby. If the two of you can sort your own shit out and call a truce, I promise to stop stealing shit and and starting bar brawls. I'd like to finish this night on a high note. Can't do that with you two whining.”

[Gair]

Gair's attention was flitting back and forth between Langston and Tretty both, having a myriad of curses and vitriol to spew out at the retorts hurtled his way. But the moment he's more directly called out by Tretty for his own pettiness and inability to talk things out, he falls silent.

He's right, you fucking idiot.

He just stares at the fence, slowly getting a grip on his muddled faculties and fury both.

And you're a hypocrite, you tell everyone else to just be above it, yet here you are…oaf.

With an exasperated exhale he labors to even look at Langston. “Gettin' the cold shoulder from her like that, when I was keepin' an ear to the ground for her.” He pushes himself to a stand. “It hurt.”

The rowels of his spurs jingle and jangle as he steps over to the sitting Langston, he leans over and extends a hand out to help the man up. “But…fuck, I dunno. I should have kept my head, it weren't right.” In lieu of a better explanation or way to put it more eloquently. “We both care, aye? There's like three lasses in the whole world I'd gut a fool for without question, 'an she's one of 'em.”

His head twists to Tretty now, finding some of his fire to clap back good-naturedly. “You think the Flames teaches us'ta talk shit out? Ya either bark the orders or fall in line.” He gestures around to the veritable trio. “Nah, they teach us'ta bottle it all up, then fight it out when you're seein' red.”

A lot like right now, he thinks. “We're sorta on queue for that.”

[Langston]

Langston stared at the offered hand coldly, opting to rise up on his own. Pushing himself off the ground, however, caused him to fall flat on his ass once more, and thus was forced to take the Highlander's hand, more than a little grudgingly. “Yeah, well… all things considered, I should've known you were never acting out of malice.” His gaze turned to Tret. The look in his eyes was still defiant in regards to this blue man, but he already delivered his string of blows on that staff, bringing his performance to a close.

“For both our sakes, I won't be bringing this up again. I think we've come to an understanding. But I've no intention to sing and dance with you in the sunlight until you and Pino mend that bridge.” Langston's eyes shifted around. The bar was still in an uproar, but he could feel it begin to die down. The excitement going to the grave gives birth to the questioning, so it was about time they made haste. “The score's still in my favor, but you could make a strong comeback if we make it to the hammer in time.”

[Tretesta]

Turning to face the miserable sods, Tret claps his hands together once and then falls backwards over the fence. He'd tumble back on hitting the dirt and spring back to his feet, spinning on his heel to lead the charge. “Then we go! Clamamar… hahahahah…. Yes. Or wherever seems quiet enough. Perhaps we chance trip back to the Member!”

[Gair]

Gair gave Langston's back a heavy and affirming clap when he comes to a stand. Surprisingly introspective for a drunken asshole, even he has his bright spots. “And I'd be seein' red like you, iff'n it was you spittin' at a lady dearest's of mine.” At the mention of bridges being mended, he can only lament halfheartedly. “Fuuuck, I don't even know where'ta start with that. Can always grovel at her feet if worst comes to worst.”

The Flame Sergeant would follow suit with Tretesta after watching him just take a clumsy tumble over the fence. He shakes his head in disbelief and exhales a loud snort from his obnoxiously large nose. “Seven hells, Kerb. You're a regular agent'a chaos, I feel like Blue might take infidelity over your hell raisin' if she knew.” Having sobered up more than he's cared to in this brief exchange of feelings, he strides from the rear yard and onto a side street. Peering carefully in either direction, intent to guide them on the rest of their evening of debauchery.

The real question, lads. Do we call it here? We could make a game of honorable mentions for half-remembered antics.

[Tretesta]

sure, we can tie it up in a knot, animal house style. Took us long enough, but Langston yelling at Gair has been completed. and i'm Now in langstons story, somewhat

[Langston]

Then they called it

The End

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[Gair]

[Tretesta]

Langston Clevers: Youngest member of the monetarists
Gair Brandt: Killed by his own Platoon in the Garlemald Invasion
Tretesa Kerberion: Whereabouts unknown

[Gair]

Somewhere throughout the night, one of us:

Kissed a bearded lady Wore a dress Drank a Seven Seas from an old boot Almost lost their nipple to a knife wielding Sahagin Mistook a Raen girl on a beach for a Siren and sang obnoxiously at her (Probably Aki) Was cradled like a babe by a Roegadame

And we can't adequately place who did what, or that the same thing didn't happen to each of us.

Also, we abandoned the cat.

The End

[Tretesta]

Tret certainly found himself in a dress. that was established one night at the HfH


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