Begin Anew [Zahhak]

[Valerie Aschdenne]

Entering a tavern in lovely Badon was bound to fill one with charged emotions. There was much energy and good cheer amongst sailors most days, especially if they were drunk. Sometimes only if they were drunk. Of course the staff didn't always share the good cheer of their patrons, even if they made their living off them. Cleaning up after drunken sailors was perhaps one of the most loathsome jobs one could have.

Valerie knew this well. Her earliest years on the Santa-Aquila were quite literally spent mopping the deck. Of course the sailors didn't make too much mess on the deck itself, that was mostly the gulls.

Either way she did relate to the staff of "The Drowned Fox", she really did, but that was not going to stop Valerie from enjoying herself. The pink haired ex-pirate was still riding off the money she made selling the Santa-Aquila along with some of her less useful spoils from successful raids in the past. She was not short on gold to spend on drink, but she was wise enough to leave a large chunk of her gold untouchable. Valerie refused to become a drunk living in squalor. She had bigger, better plans for herself than that.

"Alas, to deny the simple things in life would do naught be bring ruin to oneself." She thought to herself as she gripped her mug and chugged back about a third. The pinkette took note of one particularly impressed sailor who watched her suck back the ale, just as she took note of his ever wandering eye. He didn't seem all too interesting to her, however, so she pretended not to notice. Men were going to look, especially sailors. Hell she looked often enough.

But more interesting things or people always drew her eye more.

"Back off mate, I'm warnin' ya!" Ah, fighting words. Valerie shifted in her seat and observed two men, sailors no doubt, standing face to face. Their eyes were fixed on each other yet unfocused, and their faces were flushed. They'd had too much. "You mention me sister again, and the last thing you'll have plowed'll be your face through the floor!"

A...threat. Not a great one, but it'd work all the same. Valerie smirked in hollow amusement as the other man shot back an eloquent reply consisting of two words: the first of which a common expletive. After that the two came to blows rather swiftly, and cheers rang through the tavern.

"Ah what the hell. May as well enjoy the show." Valerie thought to herself, raising her mug before letting out a cheer of her own.

[Zahhak Al-Bahar]

Ah Badon. It wasn't quite as wild as the Western Isles..but it was a solid substitute. A breath of home. The air was filled with the salty scent of the ocean tides, and the rumbling break of the waves could be heard along the port. The spirits weren't as strong, but he supposed that fragile Lycian bellies needed to at-least pretend to be authentic pirates. Zahhak could handle it though. It was still far more appreciable to territories like Santaruz or Caelin with their landlocked selves and lack of love for fighting.

Though he couldn't really get intoxicated, Zahhak welcomed the sweet burning in his throat as he downed a huge gulp of the strongest spirits they'd managed to produce for him. The loud raucous and cheering of the drunken sailors and the cacophony of slurred words, as some tried to sing while, others tried to shout, and some to insult, all filled the air.

That was the part he enjoyed most..but there were far less bar brawls than he remembered going on in the west-..

Oh wait..were those..fighting words he heard?

Bells jingled as the brown haired male looked over from the floor above where he leaned against a railing precariously. The thin, toned male looked down to see two men violently brawling against one another. A vicious grin etched from ear to ear and the shirtless tattooed water dragon propped a foot atop the wooden railing along the inner exposure of the tavern's second floor. His blood instantly set to boiling as he looked down at the sparing sailors. Perhaps it was time to add a bit of western violence to this scene. Zahhak leaned back, muscles tightening before he lunged forwards and launched himself off the railing only to drop down atop both males with a ferocious elbow drop and threw himself atop them.

His lithe frame however allowed Zahhak to spryly roll backwards and hop back atop his feet as the shorter male hissed with glee, palms extending as he readied himself. Just like that, a good old tavern brawl had started.

[Valerie Aschdenne]

The tavern brawl had started off like one expected. Some hard shoves before one of the two men finally got angry to swing a beefy fist at the other. Had they had an actual training in melee combat it'd be like watching a clash of two titans. Both men were over six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds. Big sailors who ate plenty and drank more.

So it was undoubtedly a surprising sight when a lithe but toned man dropped the two with a single move. Valerie had to blink her eyes to make sure the ale hadn't buggered her eyes up. Alas it was true. The man was shirtless, for some odd reason, and seemed exceptionally excited to make himself a part of the brawl. He was practically scrawny compared to the two sailors, though. Valerie couldn't see how the man would last in the battle.

"He just got a lucky blow there. The two meatheads'll turn on him fast." She thought to herself as the two sailors got to their feet. Still, she didn't want to dismiss him too fast, so instead she carefully fixed her blue eyes on the shirtless man...and not for the same reasons two blushing, whispering lasses at the table across from her did.

"The hell are you, hah?!" The first sailor, a bald in comparison to his rival's blonde hair, spat.

"He probably had it with yer sis too mate!"

"Ah to hell with you both!" The bald man drove a fist into the blonde's stomach, causing to him to stagger backwards. He then shoved a table out of the way as he darted towards the shirtless third party, his face red as a ripe tomato by this point. The alcohol and rage had certainly gotten to him by now. He tucked his head and went to try and spear tackle the much thinner man.