Meetings and Clans

Fernwood Pub

It's another cold evening in the city. While she's trying to be more legitimate in her work, it's easy for Tarsh to find the seedier places in the world. Sat in a booth by herself and nursing a drink is the half-oruch Tarsh.

Windy and cold isn't the best weather, but it could be worse? Both are easily avoided by finding a few walls to block the wind and a fire and booze to stave off the cold. The Ox has all of those (though some might question the purity of the alcohol and patrons breaking and/or getting thrown out of the few windows can occassionally let in a breeze.

For the moment, the only gusts coming in are from the door opening, and the latest entrant is Bryn. She makes her way to the battered bar, coin already in hand to be offered up for request of "Ale! A biggun!"

Looking over to the door and seeing a familiar face, Tarsh offers a smile and a wave to Bryn. "Hey again, hand-fighter!" she calls over.

Bryn looks over at the call, head panning around before her eye spies the wave and waver. "Hey, Tarsh, savior of cats!" She chases the greeting with a hearty laugh, then doubles up her drink order. After the pair of mugs are placed, she grabs one up in each hand to head Tarshwards.

"Celebratin a job well done? Getting ready fer the next one?" She sets on mug on the table near 'lil sis' and takes a big gulps of the other before taking up a seat at the booth opposite.

Tarsh picks up the drink and toasts Bryn with it. Taking a drink she explains, "Looking for more work mainly. Taking a break before going back home to my sister."

Bryn expresses her appreciation (or reaction) from the drink with a belch before perking up at Tarsh's explanation. "Oh? Splittin up work and bunkin up ta save coin? Sounds smart! From round 'ere or just came in for jobs 'n stuff?"

Tarsh smiles at the compliment. "Nah, from aways off. Things happened, and we had to leave where we lived." She takes another drink the continues, "Came here to find work, some stability in life, y'know."

Bryn nods with a short chuckle. "Ye, I know how shi happens. Tribe ain anywheres near here. I got in a scuffle not long ago. Woke up in a cage wagon in Charn. Started another fight. Woke up 'gain still inna cage. Then some folks came through wreckin the place lookin fer somebody. Busted us all out, gave us all a trip back 'ere."

Tarsh nods as she listens to Bryn. "Lotta trips back and forth," she says with a grin. "Good to see you out of the cage though." There's a sigh. "Was never part of a clan, properly. Mom died before she could tell me anything about them."

Bryn's bushy brows knit for a moment. "Too bad about yer ma." Then she bounces right back with a tusky grin. "All I had was gramama, but she and the clan is way over there now, anyways. Maybe we just make our own, eh?" The grin widens. "Just need two, right?"

Tarsh smiles and nods. "Well, three of us. Don't wanna leave my kid sister out of things," she says. "People may get confused why there's a human girl in an oruch clan."

Bryn points a meaty finger at her and snorts before covering her muck up with a few gulps. "Course! Jus meant only need -at least- two. Ain' leavin no one out." To the human part, she just shrugs. "Hooms ain' all that bad. Know a coupla feisty ones, myself. Sure yer sis is like that, too."

"She's just entered her teens, you remember what that's like," Tarsh says with a grin. "If we're startin' a clan, what do we call it. Kitty Clan?" she jokes, finishing her drink. "Be nice to have a bit of safeness, y'know?"

Bryn laughs, whether from the clan name, teen comment, or both. "Ha! Best o' times! Course I 'member, I'm stilll there!" A wink (or maybe a blink since its functionally the same thing for here). "Better bein blooded 'n rited, now, though. Do more what I wanna."

Then her brow bunches up as she ponders names. "Dunno bout Kitty Clan. Don' sound oruch 'nough. Bloody Claws... or Mangy Tiger... or somethin like that, maybe?"

Murder flops.

"People hear Kitty Clan, expect a couple of weaker folks, then BAM! we pop out!" Tarsh jokes with a chuckle. "Bloody Claws is good for a more serious name." She finishes off her original drink she had before Bryn gave her a fresh one. "Still, nice making friends this quickly in a new place."

That sparks a hearty laugh from Bryn and she slaps the table firmly. "HA! That'd fill their breeches! Only work on folks once, though." Which is an obvious drawback. "Makin friends ain't hard; jus gotta chat folks up! Either ye get a friend or enemy; either way, least ye know where yer at with 'em."

The door opens to admit the chilly wind, and a little bundle of furs. The door is shoved shut with a hip, and the diminutive person stumps towards the bar. Little, mittened hands reach up to pull back the furred hood, revealing a green-skinned, half-haired head of a Goblin. "Hot cider!", she demands, pulling herself up onto a bar stool.

Tarsh stands, asking, "ANother drink?" As she listens for an answer, she moves over to the bar and gets there just after the tiny gobbo. "Hey little one," she says to Murder before ordering an ale for herself and whatever Bryn asks for.

"Always!" Bryn answers that question easily enough, and makes it something of a standing policy. To accomodate that, she helpfully gulps down whatever remained in her mug in preparation. She then notes the gobber by way of Tarsh and waves the now-empty mug in greeting before setting it aside.

The Goblin frowns, huffing. "Little one? I'll have a go at yer knees and we'll see who'll be closer t'th'floor after, hmm?" She's distracted momentarily by the arrival of her cider, which Murder starts guzzling down, managing to wave at Bryn with a mittened hand.

Tarsh fishes coins out of her coin purse and pays for the drinks. Once they're done, she takes them and heads back over to Bryn, ploping one of them in front of big sister Oruch and sitting down opposit her. "Let me know when you want my knees," she calls over to the cider swilling small one.

doing.

Bryn's caterpillar brows arch up at the gobber's response and then she looses a laugh. "Watch yer knees, lil sis," she offers Tarsh casually, though not without some weight. "Ain't gotta be big ta have heart, or be fiesty." She lifts her new, filled mug at Murder before taking a gulp or three.

The Goblin hops down from the barstool, empty mug left behind with a few coins to pay for it. "Indeed. Especially when the 'little one' is named Murder." She gestures with a thumb at herself. "Adventuring, demonslaying, comet full of angry Goblin."

The Goblin seats herself at the same table as the two oruch, her head canted to one side. "I met this one the other day. Who be you?", she asks of Bryn.

"Clanmate," Tarsh responds before taking a drink of her own mug, letting Bryn go any further with the introduction. "And we didn't really meet, you just watched me from over the back of one of the chairs."

Bryn slaps the table with a guffaw at the introduction. "That's the greatest name!" Another gulp from her mug before she sets it down. "Brynhildragar," she offers. "Friends call me Bryn. Enemies call me lotsa things. Once." She then gives Tarsh a look and shrugs. "Well, most of meetin's seein 'em, eh?"

The Gobbo eyes Bryn up and down and laughs. "I'll bet that you're the largest woman they've ever seen, and the last!" She takes in Tarsh for a moment, and shrugs. "Close enough! Just didn't get yer name."

"I'm Tarsh," the half-oruch offers. "Bryn's enemies do like asking for mercy though," she jokes with a grin.

Bryn grins wide at Mruder. "Ain't you all full o flatterin. I ain' the biggest. Oughtta see my cousin Greta! But I'm big 'nuff." Tarsh gets a little snort at her quip. "Ain' got too many of 'em. I think. Not that're still walkin 'round, anyways."

Tarsh downs her drink and stands. "I better get off," she says. "Don't want to leave my sister alone too long this time of night." She offers the pair a wave as she heads out the door into the cold evening.

The Goblin waves to Tarsh, "Take care!" She offers a similarly wide grin at Bryn. "Well, it's true... and I'll bet they don't live long enough for you to introduce yer cousin!" Murder giggles noisily. "You're pretty big, like my Da."

Bryn lifts her mug in farewell to Tarsh, then empties it before looking to Murder. "Big da, eh? He fiesty as ye, too?"

Murder shrugs her shoulders, "I guess. He's known as Count de Moans in some places, on the account of all the bodies he leaves in his wake. But feisty? Nah." She pulls off her mittens, and then waves at the barkeep. "More cider, please!" Canting her head back and forth, causing her neck to pop and crack, she giggles. "I've got more than enough feisty for a dozen people!"

Bryn echoes the giggle with a hearty laugh. "Distilled feisty!" She gives the call for cider a brief eye, but doesn't comment. "So, whatcha do here? When yer not demonslayin 'n all that?"

Her expression brightens, both at the arrival of her cider, the mug steaming, and at the question.

"Lots of things! I have a small hunting camp in the woods to the north, ish, near the Grove. I trap rabbits and boar. Durin' the warming months, I grow spicy peppers an' sell them in the market. And occasionally jobs with the Guild and such."

"What about you?"

Bryn's eye and brows perk up. "Peppers and trappin, eh?! Sounds good." As for herself, she rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "Odd jobs, mostly. Wound up 'ere without really plannin to, so do a lotta playin by ear." She gives a wry grin. "Good thing I got good ears."

"Oh? Did ya get shipwrecked? Or got lost on the road?" Her brow furrows slightly. "Got a place to stay and such? Not starvin'?" Murder rubs her cheek and then takes up the mug, holding it in both hands to enjoy the heat of it. Slurping noisily, the Goblin downs about half of it in one go. "Cause if ya need some help, lemme know? I can find ya a place, or offer ya the use of my camp. Has wood and a fire place, and a couple of sturdy leantos, and the huntin's good!"

Bryn shakes her head a little. "Nah, not shipwrecked nor lost. Not really. More just ... rescued, I guess?" Another little shrug before she goes on. "Ain't starvin and got a warm place ta sleep." She pauses at that before smirking. "Which is better'n I had before some times even with the clan."

"Rescued?" The Goblin blinks a few times. "So what's the story behind that?" She sips at her cider daintily, eyebrows raised. "And that's good then, that you're getting better than what you had before. But colour me curious..."

Bryn winces a little as that is what gets latched onto, but she vents it with a little sigh. "Got blooded 'n rited. Ye know, official woman in the clan 'n all. Went out drinkin ta celebrate in one o' the tradin villages we passed. LOTSA drinkin."

Then a little shrug. "Got in a li'l scuffle. Woke up inna cage. Got in a -bigger- scuffle. Woke up inna same cage inna castle. Then a buncha folks came through tearin up the place. Freed alla us. Gave us a free ride back 'ere."

"Oh. Ooooh." She's quiet for a few moments as she takes another sip of her cider. "Wanna go back for revenge?" Her eyes seem to dance, and for a brief moment, glow a bright red. "I'd be happy ta help!"

Bryn laughs at that and waves a hand a little. "Nah. Already got that. Whole place got levelled to the ground, I think. Ta the last stone. Besides," she turns the waving hand around the room, "was always wantin ta explore; see what else was out there. Now I got my shot, eh?"

Murder pouts a little at missing out on some good, old fashioned revenging. "Well, I suppose it has worked out, but like, don't you miss the old life? It sounds like you were going places, before!"

Bryn nods. "Ye. Was always on the move, goin places. Followin the huntin, tradin in whatever villages we found. Ain't alot ta find in The Desolation, y'know. Think that's why they call it that."

"So that means... adventurers here helped you then, yes? Did you get to meet them after?" She sits up a little. "I was probably busy with another job else I might have been there..." Murder offers up a wee hand. "It's nice eto meet you. Glad t'see that us adventurers are making an impact."

Bryn nods more. "Ye, I met 'im. Seen some around since, too, and met more folks 'ere after. Lotsa folks here; lotsa ta meet lots always goin this way an that. Which I guess is normal for this place?"

"Speakina that, I should get goin, too. Needa bath after those hands got all grabby. Some shut-eye, too." She gives the hand a clasp before she stands up. "Nice meetin ya, too!"