[Open] The Gang Fucks Up

Taos and Polk decide to check out the local tavern scene.

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Taos Alo
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Thu Dec 13, 2018 4:31 pm

Black Dove Tavern | Dentis 12, 2718 | Late Night
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It wasn't a terribly long walk from the duo's shared wagon-home to the Black Dove. While true that the harbor wasn't the safest of places at such a late hour, Taos found that he didn't mind the darkness that covered their walk, and simply kept his eyes and ears open for any angry drunks or tumbles lying about the streets. They came across quite a few, actually, but their slurred conversations went ignored by the wick.

The light emanating from inside the tavern was still a welcoming sight, and the older nudged his companion and tipped his head towards the building. It wasn't anything extraordinary--in fact, the only thing that distinguished it as the tavern was the horribly-made sign hanging from above. What was clearly meant to be a black dove looked more like a mangled bird, and it was half unsettling but half entertaining.

Right outside the door sat an older man, a snoring loud enough to be heard over the indoor chatter escaping him. Taos regarded the man with slight caution despite his rest, not wanting to be thrown off-guard by a little fake snoring, and pressed on to open the tavern door.

It was a blast of warm light, the smell of alcohol, and loud conversations.

Finding it welcoming enough and suited for what they needed--literally any kind of alcohol would do--he continued inside, glancing about the tavern as he walked across the building and to the bar. Though perhaps not as many patrons as there would have been an hour or two earlier, the tavern was still alive, and it was exactly what he wanted right now.

A young woman moved out from behind the counter, carrying drinks to deliver them to some table or another, Taos didn't pay much attention. The one that caught his eye was an older man, perhaps a decade ahead of Taos, who mixed an oddly-colored drink behind the bar and slid it across the surface to another patron. Yes, the barkeep, that was what he wanted.

"Aye, sir," called the wick, catching the attention of the barkeep, who strode over, "could'ye nab a flashfight fer me, an' whate'r this ol' kov want?"

The barkeep--Mr. Spitz--gave a nod, looking then to stare at Polk and wait for the young man's request.

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Polk
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Thu Dec 13, 2018 6:05 pm

Black Dove Tavern | Dentis 12, 2718 | Night
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As Polk walked into the tavern, following after Taos, he admired the old and particularly ugly looking place. At this point it seemed to be a competition between businesses to see which could look the worst and most attractive to get stabbed at. Polk almost coughed as he took in the smoke filled air, but succeeded in toughing it out and not emberassing himself.

His thoughts were interrupted, though, and his attention brought back to reality when Taos ordered his drink. After a quick sweep of the area, Polk spotted the grizzled barkeep Taos had been speaking to looking right at him.

"My apologies sir, I was busy enjoying the fine air in this establishment. I'll have a three hearts."

The barkeep and a few patrons snickered to themselves at hearing the order, and Polk shrugged as he opened his mouth to defend himself.

"A drink is a drink! No reason to judge a man who simply has finer tastes!"

Looking over at Taos, Polk whispered to the man and attempted to mix some Tek into his speech. " Ey, do you see any mungs in here?." Polk then took a moment to scan the crowd around them but was only greeted by the faces of hardened men. "Most men have lost their wits at this time of night, but this is looking like a harder crowd."

Polk relished the warmth coming from the nearby hearth, and sat down at an empty table and waved for his friend to join him.



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Taos Alo
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Fri Dec 14, 2018 4:59 pm

Black Dove Tavern | Dentis 12, 2718 | Late Night
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The older had to be honest, in the almost five years they had been away from the tribe, he had never heard of a drink called three hearts. Some fancy, uppity thing he imagined, that his companion had probably ordered in many places and he simply hadn't paid attention to. It obviously amused some of the patrons around them, given their quiet laughs, and Taos' curiosity only grew when his friend came to defend his choice.

Finer tastes... he wasn't sure if that was how he would describe Polk.

Taos turned to his friend when his voice lowered, listening to the man whisper and smirking a bit at his Tek.

"Mung jents, ne. Ye'd have to take a benny look abouts the place an' spot 'em," offered the wick, glancing about the room and picking up on exactly what Polk had meant--most of the guys in here at this hour were a bit more... hardened. Not as willing to sit down and relax with two outsiders, that was for sure, but maybe if they just sat back and observed a while, they'd find some friendly faces.

As Polk left the bar to go and sit at an actual table, Taos waited for a moment at the counter. The barkeep was quick to slide their drinks across the surface, and the wick dropped a few coins before taking both of their drinks over to the table. He sat with a huff, barely keeping his drink upright as he did, but kept all the liquid thankfully in his glass.

"Fair smoky in 'ere, oes? ye'd think et a smoker's den," commented Taos, the man bringing the glass to his lips to take a long drink. It was an interesting, herbal tasting beer, and though he had never minded the drink, he was still curious about that three hearts.

Aye, hand that o'er, would'ye? Looks decent."


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Polk
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Fri Dec 14, 2018 8:00 pm

Black Dove Tavern | Dentis 12, 2718 | Night
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Polk looked around the room once more, searching for anyone that didn't look like they wrestled bears for their morning yoga. But he only found the same crowd staring at him. They seemed slightly more welcoming after he ordered his drink, so at least Polk's unique thirst for the three hearts was doing something more than humiliating him.

Polk grinned at Taos' request. "Looking to expand your tastes, brunno?" Polk raised his glass and took a long drink of his three hearts, cherishing the peachy syrup. After a good quarter of his drink was downed, Polk let out a sigh of relief as he passed it over to Taos.

"Aah that's good. I thought for sure you'd never drink anything other than that old brew of yours in my lifetime!"

Polk coughed at a sudden horde of smoke from directly behind him and started batting away at the cloud around him with a hand. "Begads! These clouds are trying to kill me!" Polk looked around, searching everywhere for the man making these clouds, but could not find the guilty party responsible for blowing smoke on him. Polk tolerated most smoking well enough but getting smoked on felt like a slight to the young man. With a sigh, Polk gave up on fighting the clouds and turned back to Taos. "I'll find the erse responsible for this clocking smoke and put an end to it if they don't stop trying to kill me over here, I promise that."

Other than the phantom smoker, Polk was starting to take a liking to the tavern and its patrons. He still needed a place to gather information from in the harbor for his unique occupation, and this looked like a great place to start meeting much-needed contacts. After all, it's hard to fence stolen goods when you never meet the men stealing the goods in the first place. Rooks seemed to be a popular game in this tavern, but Polk had never taken the time to learn the game. Cups, on the other hand, was a game that Polk had mastered. If he or Taos could keep a mark busy, the other member of the duo would take everything from the lugger's pockets before they ever caught on to what was happening.


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Taos Alo
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Mon Dec 31, 2018 8:28 pm

Black Dove Tavern | Dentis 12, 2718 | Night
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The wick grinned over at his companion, watching him down a good amount of his fruity drink before finally handing it over. He shifted to sit on the edge of his chair, grabbing the glass from his friend before nodding towards him.

"Et better be, kov. Ye'know how I care fer a benny drink."

Lifting the glass to his lips, Taos took only a small sip at first, testing the syrupy liquid with a clear curiosity. He tilted his head from side-to-side as he considered the taste, before ultimately shrugging and downing another sip. Afterwards he handed it back over, "Ent bad, ne. Bit fruity fer me."

The man furrowed his eyebrows as a cloud of smoke quite deliberately covered his companion, dark gaze flicking up in an effort to catch sight of the smoker, however finding none.

"Per'aps ets some jent thin--this lot seems th' type te smoke on ye as some form o' greetin. Aye, brunno, we're in their lands now, ent we."

His attention shifted as someone sat beside him, the man glancing over for a moment and looking away--however he turned his head right back upon noticing the animal. How odd! A cat sat upon her lap, and the mere curiosity of it all caused him to smile when the woman spoke.

"Ent the most keja place, ne," he offered in response, looking away from the feline and up to the woman's face now. An unfamiliar sight, but then again, most everyone was unfamiliar. They hadn't been in the harbor long enough to establish any business, and hadn't gotten many chances to meet the residents.

"Benny lookin' cat ye've got there," said Taos, quite clearly amused with the creature's presence in the tavern, "name's Taos. Tha's me brunno there, Polk," he offered, motioning towards his companion.
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Tristaanian Greymoore
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Fri Jan 04, 2019 2:53 pm

12th of Dentis, 2718
The BLACK DOVE | AFTER DARK
"Been a mant manna time since we've had a proper night out, an' I know that 't ent feel as right 's 't could, all things considered. Clock 't all, though, I ent gonna mope 'round th' Harbor neither—" Tristaan's smile was persistent, indomitable as always, and gentle despite the dark line of a scab that split his lower lip and disappeared into fading yellow of a healing bruise beneath the days' old stubble that graced his aquiline chin, "—home's what we make 'f 't, Bad Brothers be damned an' all."

The dark-haired passive hummed his sentiments as if to hide the vehemence those words stirred in the scarred cavity of his chest, fingers at the buttons of his vest while he ignored the calloused, scabbed landscape of his knuckles that had become a rather common sight after a few days straight of fights at the Arena. The nature of the business often gave him just as many days off, days that found him picking up work on the docks for pay under the table or days that found him in bed sleeping off injuries because Master Boriand refused to heal losers.

Tristaan had reconnected with his shocked old compatriots, finding Kip on the street and reaching out to Jonathan. No one had expected to see his face again, and yet no one asked questions when it came to deals made in the dark with Silas Hawke. He'd spent the earliest hours of the morning moving cargo from ship hulls to the Harbor docks, claiming it exercise, claiming it training, and earning more than mere pocket change while allowing Sarinah to sleep off a long night on her feet serving rowdy gamblers and rowdier luggers in the Arena to watch the fights.

He'd come home to their bigger-than-a-kint two-story flat in a rundown line of rowhouses with the only decent view of the beach this side of the Harbor with breakfast and sweaty kisses and an aching need for a nap, but the rest of the day had been spent in each other's company with the promise that for a rare evening, his lovely witch didn't have to wade through violence with beer at the Arena.

To the dark-haired passive, this was, of course, an excuse to take her out, to find some entertainment and pretend for a brief handful of hours that everything was as it should be and at least make the most of their thinly veiled form of captivity.

Grey eyes wandered with no small amount of appreciation over the woman he had the fortunate privilege of sharing such unwanted servitude with, calloused hands reaching for her in order to convince her further, pausing over the beautiful swell of her belly with the coyest of winks before tangling fingers with hers, "We don' gotta go far, ye chen. Find somewhere with music an' I'll have a drink for us both, eh? Kip promised there'll be some folks playin' at th' Black Dove, an' he's always 'n th' know. Better get our gettin' out done b'fore winter anyways. All th' tekaa be sayin' it's gonna be a cold one, hama."

Once they were both ready enough, Tristaan was happy to lead them both through the streets and toward the Pier, glancing in taverns as if curiously looking for alternatives that were more interesting than the direction they were headed. Not that the Black Dove was as unsavory as could be—there were far worse places—but his face had begun to become familiar among the crowds that frequented the Arena and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized him.

Too early to be famous or infamous, his name not even on the lips of those with deep pockets, his place as Hawke's favorite wouldn't keep him an unknown for long.

The Dove wasn't quite yet crowded and the passive was willing to find them both somewhere to sit, glancing up as a few musicians made their way to the ramshackle stage, wicks by the look of them, their leader sporting bright purple hair and intricate tattoos. The three of them—one with hand drums, one with a mandolin, and the last with a violin—all were colorfully dressed, but not in any way that gave any indication of tribal affiliation. One was obviously Mugrobi, the deep, rich tones of her skin tinted with the honeyed brown that marked her as a Muluku Islander.

They tuned their instruments and those gathered in the tavern began to pay attention to the trio out of curiosity and anticipation.

"Can I getcha somethin', macha?" Tristaan hovered between sitting himself and standing, hooking a thumb toward the bar instead of wanting to wait for Naulanda to make her way over to serve them.
"Sometimes we are born with the keys to doors we were not meant to open."
Passive Proverb
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Sarinah Lissden
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Thu Jan 17, 2019 9:46 pm

12th of Dentis, 2718
BLACK DOVE| AFTER DARK
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"Mmm…ent been since ye birthday in fact hama.” The brunette said with a hum, leaning into his arms with a smile and a sigh, glancing down at the hands that embraced her belly and wrapping her own around them. Her dark hair was pulled up high, away from her face, and she wore a loose flowing deep sable brown skirt and black top that left her arms bare but allowed her to pull it down over her bump.

“Ne, ye can have the second drink for both of us. A small cup of wine ent going to be an issue kov.” Sarinah said with a laugh, moving to press a quick kiss to his lips before lacing her fingers between his. The comment around winter dug at her, nervousness ebbing slightly in her field. The winter, per the calendar and some helpful commentary from the local girls, would be the time their boch would be born, and whilst the olive skinned wick was excited she was also very scared. Imagined scenarios from what she’d seen in the Queen and things unseen gave her nightmares, and made it hard to accept that a whole tiny tekka was going to come from her.

At least it was a while away yet.

Following her partner as they left the small home Hawke had so ‘generously’ provided, Sarinah looked over his face as they walked, brow drawing slightly at the healing scab on his lip. She hated this life, hated watching him be hurt again and again, scrambling for his hide. She hated that this was on her head, without meeting her he could have been saved this…mess. Gods forbid though, she would never ever tell him that, knowing how much he fought for his little fami. The dancer would never make him feel worse, but she wished she could magically sweep them away from it all.

As they entered the Dove, the raven haired witch slipped into her seat, smiling at the band as they warmed up their instruments. Mugrobi by the looks, the lead member sporting a bright violet hair do and beautiful tattoos. Glancing up at Tristaan, she nodded.

“Oes. Something small and not to heavy.” Her eyes wandered around the tavern, taking in the audience. Some had recognised Tristaan, nothing notable, but just a general recognition. And some had recognised her, with pointed fingers and sniggers over drinks.

Always the Dove, even when she wasn’t.

“Red moon? Maybe?” She said with another smile, sitting back to rest her hands on her belly, brushing off her frustrations in favour of enjoying a rare night away with her lover. The small life inside booped against her insides, not able to be felt on the outside, but still warming her smile further at the sensation.

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Polk
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Sun Jan 20, 2019 2:48 pm

Black Dove Taverm | Dentis 12, 2718 | Late Out
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Polk took his glass back from Taos as he playfully responded to his friend's critique. "Good to see you're a kov with some good taste! " Polk took another sip of his blessed nectar.

After taking another scan of the tavern for a sign of the smoker Polk looked back to his brunno and nodded, agreeing with his statement.

"Aye, we haven't been on our home turf for a while now, have we?" Polk reflected momentarily on what life had been like before he joined Taos in leaving their tribe, but quickly shook the thoughts away. His time traveling around and drifting with Taos had been the most enjoyable part of his life, and he didn't regret leaving for a minute. After he took another swig from his drink he spoke once more. "No problem for two kovs like us though, we'll make this harbor our home in no time."

The sound of wood loudly creaking entered Polk's ears, and his attention was turned towards the noise. Three colorful men with instruments had walked onto the stage in the tavern, and had, at least for now, not fallen through the stage. Polk scanned over the musicians and their instruments and watched them with a curious smile. It had been some time since he had gotten to enjoy a performance. Before Polk could think on it any more, he heard Taos mention his name and turned back to the wick.

"What do ye want, you toft?" Polk then noticed the woman sitting beside his friend with a cat on her lap. The cat alone made sold Polk that this was a good person to know. "Benny lookin' cat ye've got there! The name's Polk, if this balach here didn't mention it."

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