The Drunken Chocobo

Razz seated herself down on a stool in front of the counter, her ears listening intently to the noise and chatter of the bar. Not that she understands half of what's being said, though, but it's something to keep herself occupied while she waits for her drink. Walking around all day has made her - a little thristy, yea.

Justin doesn't remember bars in Coneria, he remembers the fallow and overgrown barley fields uncultivated since prohibition was instituted. So much of this place is new, and so little of it he likes. He adds to that list the hassle he had with the bartender to get the stunted little fool to give him something non-alcoholic. Not helping his mood at all, nope.

Razz sensed Justin's irritation, and wondered exactly what's got him on the edge. He was put off balance when they were on that bridge which was dedicated to the people who had given their lives in the war that he had also participated it, but, uh... He wasn't annoyed, like now. "What's wrong?" She asked, quietly.

Sryia slumps over the table, face in her hands, and apron stained with spilled beer. The kids are off running wild, and she's long since lost control over them, and that husband of hers, good for nothing, tyrannical brute that he is, won't even lift a single finger against them. Against her, however, seems to be another matter.

Alfghar seems to be glue to the stool. Not even the commotion of the barflies manages to stir her. She does not even acknowledge the bartender as he brings her yet ANOTHER drink. There are quite a few empty glasses lined up near her. Seems like she has been here for a while, and in her current state, looks as if she will not be moving anytime soon.

Justin shakes his head, and glowers along the bar. "They went and rearranged the city while I was away. I really don't like the feel of this place, now. None of the places or people I was looking for are still here, I can't find my way around the streets, anard..." He spots a distressingly familiar form drinking itself into a stupor in the far corner. "...damnitall, Alfghar is sitting at the other thrice-damned end of the thrice-damned bar."

Razz blinked, and directed her attention to - well, whoever Justin's focusing /his/ attention on. "Alfghar?"

Sryia lifts her mug, supposedly about to bring it up to her lips, for the nth time this day, when she stops, shocked, turning towards the just-opening door of the Drunken Chocobo, and at the figure framed within it. Her 'husband' has come (seeking what?), and things look like they're about to get hot. Iin any event, the mug drops, shattering audibly on the ground.

Razz's inquiry, however, was cut short by the abrupt feeling of an uninvited hand reaching forth from behind her and grabbed at her chest. Memories of a certain place, being strapped down, exposed, and touched overwhelmed her mind, and she screamed, backing away. In her haste to get away from the intruding hand, she lost her balance and fell off the stool.

Alfghar haphazardly moves her arms, knocking all empty glasses off of the bar. Smack, crack, smash. That seems to wake her up, somewhat. She manages to mutter an apology, and ask the bartender for a glass of water this time. . o O (Mrr, better sober up a little bit, looks like it will get interesting). She takes out a small pill from her robe, swallowing it, and washes it down with the water the bartender brought.

Justin certainly has plenty to react to, doesn't he? The poor bastard foolish enough to grope Razz is the first one to taste his pent-up wrath, however. He lashes out with one booted foot to sweep the fool's own out from under him, and reaches down to help Razz to her feet. "Are you alright?"

Razz's heart was still pounding when she got to her feet. "Yeah," was all she got out, tense as ever. The poor drunk bastard who'd got his head cracked on the floor, though, was none too happy with this treatement, and it was all his muddled brain could do to remember that he should hit back to those who hits him, and made for a swing at Justin.

Mutak stalks daintily towards the bar, towards his 'wife', Sryia, uprooting and kicking chairs aside every now and then, muttering something under his breath about the state of cleanliness here. 'Wife! Where are the kids this time?' Somehow, his voice doesn't sound exactly like you'd expect it to. It's high, scratchy, and altogether more... soft than one would imagine. Sryia, with nothing much better to do, stares shocked at him. Either by his preciptous entrance, or by the fact that he's -dared- to ask her that question. She nearly flings the mug at him, then realises that it now adorns the floor, a beautiful picture of cracked glass and spilt beer.

Alfghar mutters, turning around on her bar stool, obviously a little more sober than a few minutes ago . o O (Just...one day of peace...is all I ask....just one day). "Please, try to keep the commotion at a minimum. Thank you."

Justin hasn't been drinking, unlike the poor sod taking a swing at him. It's lucky for both of them that quarters are too close for him to get his sword out. Limited as he is to unarmed combat for the moment, he dodges (just) the punch, and applies the man's momentum to a throw, sending him sprawling into the, ahh, asshole raising a ruckus near the entrance. "If you please, yes."

The drunk found himself hurtling into another man, whom he had not enough good sense to realize that taking his anger out on would not help his cause any. So, poor drunk that he is, he gave an uppercut to the man instead and shoved himself off.

Mutak's face turns bright pink, as if it was going to explode, at the lack of an answer. She -- err, he -- shrieks at the top of her lungs. 'So tell me...', is as far as he managed to get, though, before he's roughly barreled downwards by what appears to be another sodden, or not so sodden, individual. Sryia rouses herself with a resounding crack of her knuckles, startled into action. 'And what in the nether worlds do YOU think you're doing, assaulting my husband like that?' Strangely protective for a wife, and aggressive too. Gathering her hands into meaty fists, she proceeds to deal out a mis-aimed punch. Or two. Funny thing is, -she- sounds funny too. Low voice and all, perhaps it's all just part of the heat of the moment, you know?

Razz found herself clinging close to the counter, trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. She started yet another mess, hasn't she?

(Soon found Razz out of the bar)

Alfghar blinks, mutters, and once again asks the patrons, "Please, stop, or I will have to stop you myself." She slowly gets off of her barstool, not even wavering a bit. Modern science in great, no?

Justin flattens himself to avoid getting flattened by one of Sryia's random blows, and jerks the drunk away from hir. Standing, now, directly between the three combatants, he chants a few very quick syllables, and orders them to "Stop, dammit!" His command rings in their ears painfully for a moment, but they're all probably already too plastered for the spell to have much effect.

Mutak screams. Loudly, before proceeding to run and hide behind 'his' wife. Sryia, on the other hand, is a little too far gone in drink, and proceeds to send the table flying in the direction of that loud-mouthed individual. What's with these people who can't appreciate a good, old-fashioned brawl anyway?

Alfghar mutters, and grabs a small knife from her robes. She flings it towards the drunken person, where it imbeds in the wall about 2 inches from hir head. "Ahem. Please, settle yourself." She then proceeds to pick up her cup, and takes a few small sips from it.

Justin could never appreciate a good old-fashioned brawl. He used to be somewhat known for it, even. With a low growl he frees his broadsword and makes tinder of the table. Most bits glance fairly harmlessly off, but a rather sizeable chunk leaves him with what will no doubt be a nasty bruise in the morning. He backs up to the bar and enters a ready stance.

By now, you'd have expected 'him' to have run out of breath, but no, Mutak's still happily screaming away. If anything, his shrieks have gotten higher in pitch, and even more intense. Patrons near 'him' have all started backing off, with a few approaching violence -- and incidentally, approaching the couple as well. Sryia, on the other hand, looks a little wild at the offhanded destruction of -her- table. A muderous glint is in 'her' eyes, and... this doesn't seem to bode well.

Alfghar mutters, "Or not". She takes a glass off of the bar, which is still mostly filled with alcohol, and stirs her finger around in it. Soon, small flames start to appear inside the cup. She takes her finger out, looks at the glass, and throws it towards all of the commotion. . o O (So much for pacifying the natives..)

Justin twitches slightly, and reminds himself as he gets as far away from the molotov as possible to hurt Alfghar when he's finished hurting the rest of these people. Muttering darkly, he holds his sword aloft a moment, waits as it begins to glitter with frost, and then sweeps a wave of ice and mist at the impending explosion, hoping to minimize the fire.

Yep, it didn't bode well all right. Just not for the couple, who get thrown backwards, against a host of drunken and more than a little upset patrons.

In short order, a bigger brawl breaks out in that area of the Drunken Chocobo. All that's needed now, is for a chocobo to run in and join the fray.

Alfghar ponders several things, mostly having to do with massive death and destruction. If only. She wields her katana, and calls out in a clear voice, "Stop. NOW." . o O (I do not really think it will help our efforts if I manage to slaughter 50 citizens just because I've had a bad day.)

Justin hasn't slaughtered any random innocents in years, actually, and he's rather priding himself on it. So /he/ puts his weapon away, and echoes Alfghar's command. The original drunk is the only one who pays him any mind, and he's too caught up in the general melee around the door to do anything about it.

Alfghar gives 'the shrug', and begins a slow chant. She starts to trace intricate figures in the air, as sweat begins to form on her brow. Finally, she stops signing the air, and points at the two original instigators of the brawl as she finishes the last syllable.

Surprisingly, not much change comes across them. The 'male' stil looks -- well, male, and... I'm sure you get the idea. However, they appear shocked, and stop fighting. That, however, doesn't stop the more enthusiastic brawlers in the crowd from continuing to throw out random blows.

Sryia screams, loudly, in the splitting image of her -- really her, now -- husband, not too long ago. She suddenly realises that she's not in a very good situation. No more brute force, and in the middle of a bar... if only she had a broom handy. Mutak, on the other hand, blinks. He isn't exactly sure what to do, now. Wade back into the brawl, perhaps?

Justin doesn't want to know what's going on with those two, no he does not. Besides, the brawl's spreading in his direction, and he's out of time to make decisions. Armored boots bo make a difference in a brawl, though, even when worn by a wuss like Justin, as the first fool to take a swing at him finds.

Alfghar smirks in Justins direction, "You know..you could just run now and hope I do not slaughter the bloody lot of them." She then kneels down, hand touching the floor. Slowly, the floor around her turns to ice, and begins to spread to the far walls.

Sryia, in shock and close to hysteria by now, has stopped screaming by now. Raw throat and all, you understand. She stands in shock, not so much from her revised condition, but from sight of the ice spreading across all the walls. And Mutak? He's revelling in new-found strength, plunging himself back into the fray.

Justin sets to work, once he reaches the far wall, doing something about the rapidly approaching ice. It doesn't take /too/ much coaxing to keep it away from that side of the room, but it does leave him a bit to busy for someone in the middle of a barfight, should any of the brawlers make it across to take advantage.

Eikigou strides on into the bar garbed in his royal guard uniform, panning his vision across the bar with a growing look of displeasure on his face, reaching towards his saber as he states, "Someone is going to pay for ruining this sacred place."

Alfghar whistles innocently, "All I did was turn the bar into an ice skating rink. Is that so bad?"

Eikigou glances down at the floor, and slowly steps further into the bar, glancing at the heap of peoples, then fixes his gaze on Alfghar, "My, my, first you threaten the former king, then you start trouble here..."

Alfghar snickers.

Alfghar says: Do not tempt me, Asakia.

Kaze walks in through the western door, his head tilted to the side as he walks in on the various fights. As he takes his first step into the bar, the heel of his foot makes contact with a patch of ice and he loses his balance, falling backwards. With a quick twist Kaze spins himself around in mid-air and forms a lance in his left hand, slamming it into the ground and pushing down hard, propelling himself into the air.

Eikigou looks a bit annoyed at that, "Still can't say my name properly, either."

Sryia snaps out of her shock. If there's something her once-male ego has always been sensitive to, it's been false accusations. 'What? YOU started it, kicking that drunk at me and my -beloved- husband, you scum!' Her voice comes out in an ultra-high shriek, and her husband appears to be too drunk to notice, still, or care.

Alfghar shrugs at Eikigou.

Kaze flips in mid-air and lands gracefully on the bartop, his face taking on a rather ruffled expression, "Who's turning this place into an icebox..."

Alfghar whistles innocently.

Eikigou gestures towards Alfghar, "You need only look so far, your majesty..."

Justin twitches, slightly, but says nothing. If there's one thing he's learned to endure in his life, it's ridicule. Instead, he points Alfghar out again and concurs with Eikigou.

Alfghar says: Well, in a rather NON-VIOLENT attempt to stop the bar brawl, which I might add is still going on, I decided that the town need an ice rink.

Kaze dissipates the lance and begins to walk along the bartop, kicking the occasional drunk out of the way as he heads over to a back shelf and picks up a can of soda.

Eikigou says: We are in power for a reason, Alfghar. Leave it to us to protect this city...

Sryia advances on Justin, fists raised, somehow forgetting that she doesn't have anymore of that 'manly' strength. 'Now, you...'

Kaze sits down on the bartop, resting a foot idly on the head of a drunk whom is leaning, unconcious, against the bar below h im, "And if you want an ice rink, you could always discuss that with Lavithan. I'm sure he'd love the company...

Alfghar says: A bunch of good you have done so far. The brawl has been going on for nigh 20 minutes. And before, King Kaze had to keep the bar from burning down thanks to your personal friend, Jai.

Alfghar shrugs at Kaze.

Alfghar says: We never did hit it off. You know, the basic incompatabilities. He had tentacles, I am a woman. Those two things do not mix very well.

Kaze takes a drink from his can of soda, idly taping the toe of his boot against the man's forehead as he looks around, "Such a shame... ruining the good temple. Why can't you people crash Tepai's place?"

Laitarne appraises the rest of the patrons with a cold gaze, returning to his drink to down it quickly before standing again.

Eikigou takes on a look of faux shock at that comment, "My personal friend? I wouldn't trust my own mother around such a person...he knows many great things, however...I wouldn't put it past him to kill any of us in our sleep if it meant he'd get something of value out of it."

Kaze asks: Lucky for me I don't sleep then, eh?

Kaze snickers.

Alfghar says: I was wondering about those odd expenses in the kingdoms books...

Eikigou says: Indeed, it is required of a king to be tireless...

Alfghar peers quizzically at Kaze.

Eikigou asks: Odd expenses?

Justin has given up on influencing the situation any more. 'King' Kaze is enough of a suprising revelation, anyways. He'll just stay...over.../here/, and be nice and quiet, and let everyone ignore him while he listens.

Alfghar nods at Eikigou.

Kaze says: I blame those on Aestus, thank you. I don't need to pay my way, like the Chairman.

Alfghar smirks in amusement.

Laitarne smirks slightly.

Alfghar says: At any rate, it still leaves us the problem of the bar brawl.

Alfghar says: That we have to solve without violence.

Kaze tilts his head to the side, watching the fighting continue, "Well... Why without violence?"

Alfghar shrugs.

Eikigou says: It is up to us to set a good example, after all...

Kaze asks: And what better example then winning the fight?

Kaze grins evilly.

Alfghar says: I thought we had to make sure the Conerians LIKED us. It would not do for us to have to slaughter all these inebriated idiots.

Eikigou considers that for a moment... "Very well. An example must be set..." And with that, he heads over to deal with Sryia.

Laitarne says: 'like' and 'respect' are two vastly differing terms...

Alfghar shrugs.

Kaze asks: ..Who said anything about slaughter? A few mild concusions would do the job quite nicely... Maybe a broken bone here or there... They should be happy, I mean if we incapacitate all the drunks.. they can't start anymore fights, ne?

Alfghar says: As long as people know what I am talking about, vernacular does not matter much.

Sryia, by now, has reached Justin, and is on the verge of pummeling him ineffectually with her feminine fists of fury.

Alfghar says: If we incapacitate all the drunks, all the citizens will be in JAIL.

Alfghar says: Or dead, or whatnot.

Kaze hears the man below him begin to stir and sit up, and without even batting an eyelash Kaze brings the heel of his foot up and slams it down hard on the man's head, knocking him back into oblivion, "Damn fidgety footstools."

Alfghar smirks in amusement.

Eikigou taps Sryia on the back lightly, "Excuse me, ma'am. That will be quite enough..now, cease your actions."

Justin doesn't care for it much, thanks all the same. He catches the first one full in the face, but he swats aside the next flurry, and catches her wrist. "Ah, thank you, Askacia?"

Sryia whirls around. She's quite the country bumpkin, you know, and doesn't much take note of much of the goings-on. Forgetting that she -can't- draw upon a masculine voice now, she tries to speak in and intimidating a manner as possible. 'And who in the nether worlds, are YOU?' Without that deep basso profoundo, something just doesn't seem right.

Alfghar whispers to Kaze, "You realize that what was said at the meeting was shaded because of Eikigous presence, right?"

Kaze seems to nod as he tilts his head back to take another sip of soda, "But of course I know you weren't the cause of the barfight, Alfghar. I do wish you'd stick up a little 'slippery floor' sign or something."

Eikigou smirks at Sryia, finger the hilt of his saber, "I am Eikigou Askacia...the captain of the royal Conerian guard. Leader of the Sacred Order of the Heavenly Knights."

Alfghar smirks in amusement.

Alfghar is still whispering to Kaze, "Well, the coup is false. Jai and Eikigou probably plan to overthrow you at sometime in the near future."

Eikigou asks: I don't think it needs stating further...now, pick up your drunken friend over there and leave these premises at once. Or must I truly...make an example for everyone else to follow?

Sryia's voice rises to a high shriek. 'Well, if ya don't want me to do anything, YOU do -something- about that fool in the corner there... he could've killed my mate, you know?'

Kaze pauses in mid sip, a thought coming to mind as he puts the can down beside him, "Did you ever follow up on that lead about the girl and those crystals and orbs we talked about, Alfghar?" he says, a bit louder then one might expect.

Eikigou considers that for a moment... "Which fool in the corner, again? Good Sir Justin of the academy?"

Laitarne glances over at Sryia, wincing as his pointed ear twitches slightly.

Alfghar shrugs at Kaze.

Justin frowns, faintly. "I did, ah, send someone in their direction. Wasn't a planned maneuver, you'll understand. And she sent a table in mine in response."

Sryia roughly waves her hand in Justin's direction. 'If you mean that maniacal sword-wielding, drunk-kicking individual in that corner, YES!'

Alfghar says: You forget...I have other matters to attend to, so things slip my mind.

Alfghar waves her hand towards the commotion, "Ah, a katana in the back would solve many problems for us..."

Eikigou says: I don't care, miss. Continuing as you are, get yourself and your mate out of here before I drag you to the dungeon myself.

Kaze gives a mildly annoyed glance at Alfghar, "How could you forget to look up something that is so important to our complete control over Coneria? And possibly the entire Heartlands? Don't you understand the power those crystals could possess? They may even equal those shards you spoke of." still in a conversational tone.

Voice rising to a shriek once more, she yells. 'And you expect me, poor helpless me, to drag my husband out of that fray?' She points a still-grubby finger in the general direction of the rest of the brawl. She isn't that upset with her 'changed' condition though, and seems all too ready to take advantage of it.

Laitarne is, coincidentally enough, sitting at the bar over his drink... running his thumb absentmindedly along the edge of a shard of black glass inset into a brooch on his longcoat.

Alfghar says: I will make a note to look into it as soon as I finish some...business.

Eikigou considers that for a moment...then blows it off completely with his next statement, "You aren't helpless, miss. And if you are, well...I pity you and your atrophied arm muscles."

Laitarne glances up at Eikigou, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Alfghar says: You know...that brawl is starting to annoy me...

Alfghar says: Excuse me for a second.

Laitarne holds out a hand, palm up, and an orb of icy blue energy begins swirling just above his hand, "It's easily enough taken care of."

Sryia gives Eikigou a sharp glare, stalks over to the fray, pounds ineffectually upon one of the participants, and stalks back to Eikigou, tiny fists raised. 'Atrophied arm muscles, indeed...', she mutters under her breath. 'Well', she drawls, raising the volume of her voice, 'I suppose we have -her- to thank for this.' She turns, staring daggers at Alfghar. NOW she starts to regret her condition.

Alfghar gets up off of the barstool, and walks over towards the brawl, with her katana unsheathed. She searches out the "mate" of Sryia, and promptly puts a katana through his back.

Laitarne waves his hand again, the energy dissipating into the air.

Alfghar coughs slightly, "Now, anybody that is still fighting in about...20 seconds shall suffer the same fate. Do I make myself clear?"

Eikigou glances back as Alfghar moves towards the drunken heap and looks just a little surprised at that...he then proceeds to tromp over to Alfghar, drawing his saber, "I look forward to dishing out quite a bit of pain to you for attacking an innocent, Alfghar."

Sryia shrieks again, voice rising. 'And now she kills him too!'

Alfghar pulls out her katana from the poor slobs back, wipes his blood off on the corpses clothes, and walks back to her barstool.

Justin winces. "Gods in the heavens. 'Set an example' is not 'make an example of', Alfghar."

Alfghar says: Oh please, Eikigou. Sometimes you just need to do a little bit of convincing in order to bend people to your will.

Eikigou exclaims: And that is my authority to carry out, not yours!

Alfghar says: Well, think of it as a learning experience, then.

Alfghar says: On how to control mobs.

Laitarne asks: Hmph... such bickering, can't we come to an agreement as to whether these livestock deserve to live?

Eikigou concentrates for a moment...then quickly draws his saber, whipping it out with his right hand so as to smack Alfghar across the head with the flat of it, a faint hint of energy detectable about the blade...

Kaze tsks at Eikigou and hops down from the bartop, kicking backwards and slamming his 'footstools' head into the bar as he begins to walk towards the bloody heap on the floor, he then kneels down and looks at it rather curiously, "You know..." he says rather quietly, "He isn't dead yet. There is a temple with a healer right down the road."

Jinrokku walks in, hoping to get a drink or two here, after having an argument with his own barkeeper Amy. He pauses in the entranceway. He stares at the group of people standing inside, the icy floor and the corpse near Alfghar.

Alfghar , figuring that Eikigou would do something foolish like that, ducks under the blade, spins around, and makes a quick stab with her katana.

Kaze stands up and shrugs, his right arm slipping out from under his cloak. The flawless cylinder begins to crack and open, the gold warping and reshaping into the Demon Gun.

Justin makes a face. "Gah, that's the worst, isn't it," he comments, mostly to himself, and collects Sryia while the rest of the room is busy watching Alfghar and Eikigou. "We're just, ah, getting him out of here, then, aren't we?" And quickly, too, before someone decides to include him.

Eikigou attempts to push the katana away with his free hand, wincing a bit as the back of his hand gets rather nastily cut, "Entirely disgusting...without any reservations for even the most vile of acts...just the kind of person to be head of security at Darkwood..."

Jinrokku walks further into the room. He removes his coat and sets it down a stool. He then carefully slides across the room to the Capt. of the Royal Guard.

Getting pulled along, Sryia carefully helps to lift Mutak. Too tired, or perhaps vocal chords too raw to speak further, she merely acquiesces for now, perhaps intending to settle the score later. Away from all the flashing blades.

Eikigou grins, "Perhaps I should have a talk with the king about you...I'm certain I could tell him quite a bit of interesting information..."

Kaze sighs and snaps open the barrel of the demon gun, reaching down slowly he draws out a small bullet from his belt, it's center colored a deep grey. With a sigh Kaze slips the casing into the top barrel and snaps the rifle shut then raises it and points it at Alfghar and Eikigou, small lines of energy begining to form and collect along the rifles length.

Alfghar jumps away quickly from Eikigou, not really wanting to get smacked in the head with his sword, "Yes, Kesnick does pick the best."

Justin, with Syria, carrying the mostly dead Mutak, makes a hasty exit vore Kaze's Caster goes off. Nasty things, Casters.

Alfghar takes a sidelong glance at Kaze, and jumps HELLAFAR away from where the gun is pointed.

Jinrokku reaches over to Eikigou and taps him on the shoulder, asking him whats been going on in here.

Eikigou takes a step back, taking quick glances at Jinrokku and Kaze as he sheathes his saber, then proceeding to...well..just leave his hand, gushing blood, hang loose, "...what the devil is that, your majesty?"

Laitarne is still mostly disinterested in the goings on of the bar, slowly drinking.

Kaze pauses as the gun begins to dim slightly, "It's... a curse, a very big, bloody curse. But it makes things happen. So please, no combat betwixt the court, shall we?"

Alfghar shrugs, and stands back up, sheathing her katana.

Kaze snaps the rifle barrel open and extracts the slightly warm bullet, slipping it back into his belt. The gun on his arm begins to blurr and reshape into the featureless cylinder, "Thank you. Much obliged... Now children, do play nice..."

Eikigou just glances at Alfghar in disdain, the blood from his hand slowing to a trickle as the wound heals...seemingly on its own...

Alfghar shrugs at Eikigou.

Jinrokku not getting any answers grumbles. He takes a seat and does what he came here for, orders a drink.

Eikigou asks: Now...what was that which you and Alfghar were discussing, your majesty?

Alfghar smirks in amusement.

Alfghar . o O ( Ah, you never change, Eikigou ).

Kaze wraps his cloak about his right arm again and goes back to pick up his drink, "A woman. Her name was... Lonneke I think... She has a crystal. It resembles the shard that the one named Suzuran used to carry."

Eikigou asks: ...really, now? Is she driven mad, much like Suzuran was?

Jinrokku glances across the bar and notices the Dark Knight, Laitarne. He raises his drink and gives a nod to him.

Kaze pauses and rubs his chin, then picks up the can and takes a sip, "Well, I've not met her overly, but she seems to be a rather normal individual so I've been told. As crazy as one whom enjoys nature, no more, no less."

Laitarne nods slightly, still running his thumb along the edge of the glass shard in his brooch absentmindedly.

Eikigou brings his hand up to his chin, looking thoughtful...he then nods, "I shall investigate that matter personally..."

Kaze drains the last bit of soda from the can, then idly crushes it against his 'footstool's' forehead, "Well, I'll be off now... and if you two wish to kill each other... go out into the swamp and do it."

Alfghar smirks in amusement.

Kaze nods to Eikigou, Laitarne, Jinrokku and Alfghar as he leaves the bar, lightly stepping on the ice as to balance himself.

Eikigou asks: Very well, your majesty. Now, before we go off and kill eachother...what was that which you wanted to discuss, Jinrokku?

Alfghar shrugs, walks out the door, and seemingly disappears.

Eikigou . o O ( ...I know you're up to something, bitch... ).

Jinrokku waves his hand at Eikigou. "Nothing really, just came in for a drink..and saw this.. What the god is going on anyway?"

Jinrokku finishes off his drink, and orders another.

Eikigou says: Unwanted intervention from Darkwood's very own Whore of Babylon. I would stay for a drink, however...so much of my time has already been wasted in dealing with this. I'll see you around, Jin...