A few men short, more or less the state of traveling. These days a man was either dead, crippled, or undependable. The latter were the most often hired, but Ku-Jon made exceptions for the first to when times were slim. Drumming his fingers on the table he let a wash of grog jolt him to his guests. Music coalesced well in the background, a lyre or harp stringing along a tune he wasn't familiar with. Sounded too soft to be in the bar, like a bright bird caught in a grotto of snakes. Sooner or later it would be swallowed and lost.
With sideways glare, Ku-Jon affixed the elf in his line of sight. Of all his guests, she was the one he wanted most to cut up slowly. Her existence was offensive in almost every way the pirate could imagine. Oralia in all her innocence was only a mite more tolerable…considering she was worth more than fifteen times the city around them…likely more. As if a natural part of the crew, she remarked to the table that the music was sad and sweet enough to aid digestion. Snorting derisively, Ku-Jon interrupted.
"But not your purse elf. Won't be I to pay for your comfort."
Prestadeth glanced down to the prone man she'd tripped earlier and fished a leather pouch from his back pocket.
"He'll pick up my tab."
"A poor elf...if I haven't seen the bottom of creation...Have you given thought to the debt of life you owe me?"
"Indeed," Prestadeth replied without much interest. "And consider it repaid."
Ku-Jon frowned, closing an open hand over nothing.
"I'm afraid your currency is a mite transparent for this deal."
"You have insulted and threatened me since I set foot on your little ship. You are also, no doubt plotting ways to separate me from my captive even as we speak." Her eyes glittered and a vicious smile split her face. "I have killed many men like you for less. Consider my sparing your life up to this point as repayment."
"Aren't you a saucy whelp," Ku-Jon muttered, swinging his arm out as if indicating something around him. "Without my ship you're be strung up higher then a troll's chin and dancing for the hangman. Killing me would have been a quick assurance of your own rather pleasant demise." Twirling the black dagger on the table, Ku-Jon let the point rest toward Prestadeth, a poorly veiled threat.
"That captive is more mine then yours elf, and I'm a captain wanted for high treason. That girl is leverage from an angry navy and I'm not to be lettin some spit of a rootfolk play me a fool."
"You are a fool. And the girl is mine." She stated without mirth, sipping the remainder of her grog calmly.
Ku-Jon's face darkened, the shadow of rage coloring his cheeks. "Remember your place...no trees to hug in the Low Realm."
Prestadeth's smile widened. "True, but more than enough shadows. "
She took another long drink of her ale, arriving toward the bottom and frowning, distaste for the blunt brew obvious. "I grow bored with your attempts to frighten me. Perhaps a change of subject before we resume tearing at each other's throats?"
"Nothing so savage," Ku-Jon protested "Tearing leaves such an ugly mess. I prefer a softer evisceration." The banter had slowed, though the enmity still hung thick between them. Nodding, Ku-Jon bade her continue.
"What were you doing in that castle? Something tells me you didn't receive and invitation."
"A gentleman never brags." The captain answered, draining his grog and grabbing another mug from a reeling crew member "And you? As fitting as a dungeon is for your ilk, I don't presume you were there to begin with."
"Perhaps a tit for tat?" Prestadeth suggested.
"Unfinished business with the pomp and royalty."
The elf arched an eyebrow, "Sounds exciting. Pity it didn't work out."
"A dead king and a kingdom wot got no direction" he drawled, imitating Kargon's rough syllables "In short, treeling, I'm satisfied with the events...but our little miss royalty is the real feather in my cap."
"I wouldn't start counting the feathers, just yet, if I were you." The elf winked and Ku-Jon resisted the urge to punch it.
"And you'll stop me? No elves here tree hugger, you have nowhere to run to."
"Do not worry where I will run, too. We have our ways. What you should be worried about is," She paused to place the stein on the table with an audible thump, even over Kargon's bawdy singing. "What I will do to you, the moment I perceive your threats to be a little more than empty words." Something gleamed in her eyes. Something ancient. Something vicious.
Laughing abruptly, whatever once peered hungrily from her eyes was gone. "But all this talk of death! Surely we can sheath our daggers for a moment, and talk of something lighter? One must always have spaces of peace before war."
"Arrogant little nymph aren't you? Don't underestimate your competition. I did nick the prized gem off The Castigation after all, no small feat there."
Prestadeth didn't comment, idly slipping another stein from a passing barmaid. The theft went unnoticed.
"You haven't answered your end of the question."
"Hmm?" She looked up from the drink, eyes slightly unfocused and breath thick with grog's scent "Oh yes, forgive me."
"I was simply waiting in a cell for the executioner's blade, or the magi's. . . thorough attentions. Whatever it is humans delight in doing to my kind. Obviously, I did not want to find out."
"They wasted cell space on you? Standards have fallen. No accounting for poor management." Ku-Jon chuckled, draining the next mug, "And how did you wind up in the castle dungeon?"
"I asked a magi for directions," Prestadeth returned with a grin "And what of you? Or, do you walk about stinking of a cell to attract women?"
"I slept a few nights in a Magi's home, I must still be carrying then stench."
"I'm happy to see you have another means of making coin. Industrious little bag of fleas."
"This 'bag of fleas' is the only reason you're still breathing I'd wager."
"Yes, thank you for that. Now it seems I'm what stands between you and your little plot for greatness, not to say I don't blame you for trying," Prestadeth sat back, indicating the tavern around them "So where does that leave us, my little flea bag?"
Ku-Jon paused to think, spinning the dagger back to his palm and grinning. "A debt of life you owe and a princess I'm in need of. We'll exchange the two and spit a deal."
"Oralia," Prestadeth confirmed, drawing out the syllables, "Will be staying with me, as I am the one who caught her, therefore her life is in my hands and not yours." A single finger raised imperiously before Ku-Jon could speak, "However, I am an honorable 'elf', and a life debt is owed. So I propose this: I will not kill you this night out of gratitude."
"How touching," the captain muttered, pouring another mug of grog from a stained bottle, "I'll remember your valor when I mount your ears in my quarters." He paused, "The princess is a useless token with you. I, on the other hand, know how to bargain with the royal types."
"I've seen your methods of 'bargaining'," the elf said sardonically,
"Her uses to either of us are irrelevant. She is mine and I intend to keep her."
"You may find it hard to carry her without arms, I hear the task is quite challenging." He did not allow a grin to invade the grim of his face, holding out his half full cup, "More grog elf? Or shall we cut the banter and decide which of us is walking out tonight?"
Prestadeth accepted the cup, but turned it around and around in her grasp rather than drink from it. "Your hospitality will not go unforgotten, but the outcome was decided long before we even sat down." Without warning, the elf thrust the mug forward, a wave of alcohol splashing into Ku-Jon's face. Before he had time to let out a growl of surprise, Prestadeth had quickly hurled the stein into a big mans head behind the captain. Ducking away from the table, the elf took Oralia's hand and pushed through the mob. Behind her, a choked roar dogged their trail followed by the sound of a table cracking. Ku-Jon followed shortly, hefted by a larger man across the room and into another singing group of cutthroats. Zagara's entrance went unnoticed as Ku-Jon hurled himself to his feet. He could see no sign of Prestadeth in the crowd, only the stinging aftermath of her attack and the itching rage beneath his skin.
As though waiting for this moment, the Rusty Bucket erupted into violence. Few started fights within the infamous tavern, but when someone else had thrown the first blow…the resulting chaos would be placed upon their shoulders. A time for getting ahead and quickly removing an enemy, Bucket Brawls were banned for their fatality…which was the exact reason they still happened.
Surrounded by men of various sizes and capabilities, Ku-Jon snarled.
The elf had long outlived her usefulness.
Summary: Bickering and bar fight
