For now, she didn't mind trading words with this man.  And he was only asking questions, something that Marigold didn't mind answering.  "Well, one version it turns out she's the daughter of a king, and the man who gave the right answer becomes her husband.  They ruled the kingdom for many happy years.  Another version said that she never found a man who gave her the right answer, so she went out on her own, and had her own adventures.  It just depends on who you ask.  It would nice to find someone you could trust enough to be happy with," she said, before taking another sip of wine.  Right now, the version that had the girl going off on her own was the most appealing.

An eyebrow went up, she had been considering coming back to try other nights.  But Marigold knew she would have to conceal her own bitterness if she wanted to make a name for herself.  "Perhaps I will.  I didn't think you to be the sort to hang around in one place for too long though," she said.  Given that she knew he was a seafarer, it only made sense he would move on without making any permanent attachments.  Let alone coming in to a tavern to chance upon a particular singer.  Her other eyebrow went up at the story of how his hand had been lost, that wasn't exactly the first thing she would have thought to hear.  "Huh.  So you lost your hand, and your ship it sounds like.  Quite a lot of bad luck in short order.  It doesn't seem to have dampened your spirits though," she said, a bit of admiration in her voice.  She had a feeling that many people would have just given up after the loss of one or the other, let alone both. 

Glancing to the satyr, she only shrugged.  "Perhaps he's been lonely for quite awhile, and you're his type.  You should go say hello," Marigold said, a snarky smile on her face.  Or perhaps there was something else at play here, Marigold considered the idea that she might learn a few more songs from him.

Harrison listened to her explain all the different endings to the song. While the kind one certainly did seem interesting to say the least, the second one seemed to grab his attention. The rogue gave her a grin and then took a sip of his rum. The man's blue eyes sparkled a little like the sea on a sunny day just before he spoke. “I personally am a fan of her taking her adventures into her own hands, seems like the kind of lass who would do well at sea too.” He said with a wink. Something told him that someone who was so attached to the idea of freedom probably favored that ending of the song. It also meant that she didn't need to be tied down by a relationship as well. Which to him meant that if he played his cards right he could end up with this blond beauty in his room tonight. But she wasn't going to be easy to snap up, she was most likely strong willed and couldn't be as easily charmed as most women.


He shrugged a little at her next words about him hanging around in once place for too long. “Usually no, but I've been known to make exceptions from time to time.” He said with a wink and a smile. “After all this is a port city, this place will probably be my home port for a while. But I am a man of the sea and that is where I will always return to. I'm quite the fish out of water if I'm too far from it.”


Harrison took a sip of his rum and her next words made him grimace a little and for a brief second the jovial look to his face vanished. But as quickly as that look came it was gone and replaced with his usual smile. “I lost my ship a few years after I lost my hand, needless to say, no, there isn't much in this world that dampens my spirits. After all, I have so many ways to replenish them.” With that he raised his glass a little and took the last swig of it and set the glass down, a little sad that he was out of the alcohol.


“Oh he's much to hairy for the satyr's that are my type.” He said with a grin and a wink. But the dwarf satyr's staring was unnerving him. Usually when someone who did that was looking for a fight in some capacity or another. “Well then, I shall see what he wants and then I shall return to resume our conversation.” He gave her a friendly smile and then the pirate stood to his feet and walked smoothly over to the satyr. The man was choking down some meat and bread. Harrison placed his hand and hook on the table and leaned down a little so he would make sure that the satyr would be able to hear him perfectly clear. By this time all the laughter and joy had leached out of his face, after all this man could be out here to kill him. Or perhaps he was after the girl he was with, either way Harrison wasn't sure of his motives and he kept a careful eye on where his hands went.


“Care to explain why you've been staring at me ever since I got in here, satyr?”

  Girfic kept his eyes on the one handed man before him. His tone was strong and commanding. He gestured at the seat opposite him.
"Take a seat." He said gruffly. He was horrible at starting conversations. Thankfully, the cheering and laughter rose once more, drowning his words to anybody as far as one table away, but not enough was the noise to make him completely inaudible; anyone close to him, like the pirate before him, would hear him well.

"You seem familiar, mate." He took another swig of ale. "Ever attacked a ship somewhere near the Vilpamolan coast ?"

As the worlds came out of his mouth, memories came flooding back, stinging like bees. It happened many years ago, and he, Girfic, was much younger. He sailed on a great ship, under the command of Captain Corwin Breeden. At that time, he had been sailing on the same ship for twenty one years now. Several of the other crew members weren't new either; almost monthly half the newcomers went, and others came… Sometimes in a day, sometimes in a year. Many got killed, lost their minds, or just weren't up to the job. The ship on which they sailed upon was called The Carcass. She was great; greater than any ship Girfic had seen. Her prow was shaped like a dragon and she was decorated with gold and painted shields,

 That was, of course, until the incident, the blight, the tragedy, the disaster.

They were sailing in the middle of the sea. The sky was brilliant blue, dotted with clouds. The waves were gentle, hitting the ship, and white foam rebounded off her prow. The sail was up and the crew were relaxing on the deck, watching the beautiful, blue sea, as the wind moved The Carcass Southeast. They weren't far from the Vilpamolan Coast from which they had sailed, but it was fading from sight.

The sun was close to setting. The waves were still calm as ever, and the sky  was purple. The crew were watching the beautiful scene of the huge sphere of light sinking into the water. There were many myths surrounding the sunsets, but one thing they all could agree upon; it was indeed a truly beautiful sight.

The pleasure, however, did not last for long, for another great boat came into sight…. It seemed to have crept upon them, for none has noticed it until it was thirty feet away and the captain and his first mate were bellowing orders. They came onto The Carcass, and the crew barely had any time to draw their weapons. Girfic was without his axe. He raised his shield in one hand and lunged for the axe, but by the time he grabbed it, fighting had already broke out and three men were bleeding heavily; one from The Carcass and two from the enemy. Yelling, he charged at an enemy with an extremely handsome face, but the world went black.

He suddenly found himself in a small boat with a little bit of food and water, a few kilometers away from The Carcass… The other ship was nowhere in sight. Tears found their way out of Girfic's eyes as the mast of The Carcass fell over the burning railing, and he watched, as the ship slowly began to sink, and the world became unclear, for his eyes were flooded with tears. Something caught his eye. He looked down and noticed, close to the food and water, his axe and his shield. He eventually found his way back to the shore, and started a new life.

It was only a brief moment during which he had relived the horrible memories, but his eyes found their way back and landed on the one handed man's face, waiting for an answer.

There were two possibilities with this man.  Either he was saying what he thought she wanted to hear in order to try and get her into bed, or he genuinely thought that what he said was the truth.  "Never been to sea myself… my brother wanted to be a pirate when he was little," she said, her voice sounding a bit lost for a moment.  She still had yet to find him, and Marigold didn't want to give up just yet.  Perhaps she would have to ask for help.  The wink and smile told the young woman all she needed to know, though she found him interesting enough to not just up and leave.  "Quite a bit of bad luck.  Hopefully it turns soon," she said, genuine in her sympathy.  For the most part, she didn't wish people ill.

She almost burst into laughter at his response about her thoughts on the satyr, instead settling for a broad grin full of amusement.  An eyebrow went up when he did just what she had suggested, that wasn't quite what she thought he would have done.  But she turned her ears to listen into the conversation.  The shift in his spoken tone was interesting, and Marigold was glad to see this other side of Harrison.  It proved he was only human after all.  Whatever conversation that would take place could be interesting.

A brief glance back at the young lady he had been talking to brought her smiling face into his vision there was a brief smirk on his face. Well at least she was at least a little amused by all this. When he approached the satyr, the rogue didn't budge when this man's first words were for him to have a seat. Harrison remained firmly in his standing position, his blue eyes narrowed a little at the man. That was all this trouble was? Harrison just seemed like a pirate that had attacked a ship he had been on. The rogue looked less than pleased at this idea and just watched as the man's eyes got a distant look in them. Harrison had seen that in his former crew members, this Satyr was probably reliving the experience as well. The rogue cleared his throat as he looked at him, “No, I don't believe so.” The pirate patiently waited until he saw the look, however brief, vanished from the Satyr's eyes. It would seem that the man was waiting for him to either sit or say something else.


“Listen here, Satyr.” Harrison said coldly, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “Keep your eyes to yourself, the asking is me being a gentlemen.” The rogue had dealt with those who felt they had something to prove, especially if there was something like revenge in the mix of things. Harrison wasn't going to allow this creature to ruin his evening, especially when he potentially had something good lined up. He gave him one last cold stare before he stood fully up, “If you find your manners, I won't stop you from joining me and that wonderful young woman.”


With that the smile returned to Harrison's face and he sauntered smoothly back to the woman who he had been talking to. The dashing rogue took his seat once more and gave her a rather large grin. “He seemed a little heartbroken I turned him down, but I think he'll make it.” The rogue said with a small laugh. Then something seemed to occur to him, it was almost like a torch had been lit in his mind. “Where have my own manners been?  I don't believe I've actually introduced myself to you. I'm Captain Harrison Jones, it's been a pleasure so far conversing with you.”


He considered something for a moment, what she had said before he had left their table. “I think all children at some point want to be pirates. Surprisingly I did not want to be a pirate, I wanted to be a Navy man like my father. I had wanted to be the one who brings pirates to justice, and well you can see where I ended up.” The rogue chuckled softly to himself. He flagged down a barmaid and slipped her some more silver coins for more rum. She quickly got his glass refilled and he took a long sip of the beverage in his hand. He then set his glass down and looked at the fair maiden, his blue eyes found hers easily. “What did you brother end up doing?” He asked her rather curiously, Harrison's right hand swirling the brown liquor in the glass as he watched her. He also cast a glance to the Satyr to see what he would do.

Girfic was unmoved by the one handed man's threat. He glanced out the window, and guessed it must be close to, if not already, noon, for the world was flooded in golden light. He reached below his chair and pulled out a heavy bag, stained with dry blood. The Satyr rose and walked to the table where the two sat, and dropped the bag onto it, inside which was the head of a man was, with dirty brown hair and a badly trimmed beard. He leaned close to the pirate and spoke in a rough, low voice.
"Here is what remained of your captain; found the old drunk a few days ago." He glanced around briefly, and went on. "I want nothing from you; it's all over now. All good."

Girfic walked away, disappearing into his room on the second floor, leaving the bloody bag on the table. That should be enough, he thought, to let the one handed man, Harrison he heard him say his name was, know that he wasn't looking for trouble. Of course, he may or may not be the pirate that belonged to the dead man's crew, but he highly doubted so.

It was interesting to see how fluidly her new friend shifted between how he reacted to people, and Marigold chuckled when he returned.  "My name is Marigold, and I agree.  I've enjoyed your company so far too," she said, offering him a genuine smile.  So far, Harrison had been nothing but a gentleman to her, and that was a start to getting on her good side.  Her head tilted to one side, it was quite curious to her that he had wanted to be on the side of law and order, but had ended up doing just the opposite.  "Hm, that's curious.  My brother went into the Adeluna army… I haven't seen him in a few years," she said, her face falling.  She hadn't heard from him in longer than she liked, and Marigold could only hope he still lived.

"If you don't mind… How'd you end up there?" she asked, wondering.  But before he could answer, the satyr dumped a bag on the table, then left.  With her keen senses, Marigold knew there was something nasty in that bag.  The dried blood on the edges of it only confirmed her thoughts of the smell.  "Well, ew.  That's a bit disgusting," she said, making a face.  Glancing at Harrison, she added "I don't suppose you know who's in there?" with a raised eyebrow.  The young woman made no moves to touch the bag, given that she didn't really have anything to do with whatever had happened.

Harrison gave her a bright smile when she introduced herself, it would seem that her name matched her appearance. That was certainly interesting to know. She then posed a question to him, he laughed a little and he was about to answer the Satyr had walked over. Harrison leered at the man as he then dumped the bag on the table and simply left. It would seem that savage couldn't bother with allowing Harrison the chance to respond before he crawled into his hole for the night. The dashing rogue's eyes went to the bag as Marigold asked if he knew who's head in the bag. Harrison sighed briefly as he used his hook hand to lift the bag from the table, this was no place for that thing. “He seemed to be upset that this man was Captain of the ship he raided and that I was the member of the crew. Which is impossible, any time I've raided a vessel I've been the one in command.” Harrison glanced around and tossed the bag under a table a little ways away. He couldn't deal with this at the moment. After all he had more pressing things to think about and talk about.


“I can't say I've ever known a polite satyr.” He sighed as he returned to his rum. The rogue gave her another dashing smile. He had already forgotten the ugly man who had tried to dampen his spirits. There was little that could keep Harrison down this evening. After all he had the company a beautiful woman and a mostly full glass of rum, how could he possibly be having a bad night. Though he considered how to answer her question that she had asked before they were so rudely interrupted. Harrison cleared his throat a little before he spoke up once more.


“Well, I had never been too fond of taking orders, and the rise in the ranks of the navy to captain was too slow for my own liking. So I became a merchant for a while, but when that endeavor seemed to be not as profitable I turned to piracy. Honestly most of the ships we raided were merchant vessels stocked with valuable goods that could be sold by us. It was all well and good until my first mate decided that he would be captain of my ship and I was stranded on an island. It had seemed like no hope was in sight when I waded out into the water and roped together sharks that brought me to another ship. That ship then brought me here. And here I am today.” Harrison told the story with a serious face, but when he finished and gave her a smile. There was certainly truth in most of what he spoke.


His blue eyes found hers before he spoke once more. “So tell me, do you have any intention of performing any more songs this evening. I'm sure you'll knock us all dead with something amazing.”

((Hope you don't mind me bombarding in. c: ))

A faint glow of warmth gently lulled at a passerby, a welcoming from a building in which apparently anyone may enter. Taking full advantage of the hopes in a place to rest, a hooded figure approached the weathered building with a sure and fearless walk. From inside came the rumbling tones of masculine voices joined together with a crude melody. The newcommer was fully aware how the humanoids respond to their surroundings, and to the liquid of drunken fire. A shake of the head cleared one's thoughts, accepting any consequences of actions and yet rejecting them at the same time.
   
   The doors creaked apart once more, slowly opening to the outside world and allowing a small female to gently push the oak apart to slip inside. Helanaii focused on the feeling her bare feet received when they silently met with the cold wooden floors. A few grains of sand slipped between her toes while she proceeded to melt into the room. A heavier brown cloak was pulled lazily over a head of thicker deep brown hair which partially concealed a fair complexion. Attraction was not something to be paired with her name, as she was much more average than many. Her leaner physique and stronger cheek bones however may appeal to certain people, as beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. One thing that stood out amongst a group of other younger women would be the moles, or beauty marks, dotted over her face. Again, not a thing above average.
  Having nothing special about her allowed this younger one to slip in, hopefully unnoticed. She weaved between the heavier set bodies that rowed around tables and she hurriedly crossed the distance to a soft warm glow of a fireplace. Her bright hazel eyes refused to raise from the worn ground while she accomplished such a daring task, her ears had failed to pay attention to anything being said, and her lips did not once part to create a sentence. It was already decided that she would speak to no one, if she could help it. 
  Successful, Helan reclined slowly to place herself on the stones that lined the fireplace. A slight smile crept its ways into her features while the warmth struck her body. She loved heat, and being by the ocean created gusts of wind filled with water dust that chilled her bones. Soft child-like hands, which failed to be dry and weathered, stretched out towards the licking flames but at a distance safe enough to prevent burns. The light tingled her skin and a feeling of joyful comfort now soaked her body. A gentle sigh emitted as undulating gooseflesh rippled down her spine and raised the hairs over her arms. This was a position she would stay in for a while, slightly curled around the fire like a feline would in a warm spot. This woman could certainly be deemed different if anyone bothered to take notice of such a pathetic figure, but it was likely none would. Perhaps she would be seen as some poor widow or runaway seeking shelter for the night. This thought only added to her lovely smile as she drifted further into her own thoughts, getting lost in the dance of the flames.

The Satyr pushed the oaken door roughly and stumbled in, before turnig and slamming the door shut forcefully, sending the loud noise of wood on wood downstairs. He placed his axe down, and it oeaned against the wall, and his shield in the same position. There seemed to be a slight creaking noise, but he ignored it. Girfic collapsed on the chair facing the fire, the open window behind him. Strange. He didn't remember opening it before going downstairs for breakfast…

The creaking noise was once again heard, this time more loudly. The Satyr turned his head slightly, and saw a figure moving behind him towards the window. He leapt to his feet and turned. In one fluid move, the intruder was in his hands, grabbed by the neck. The Satyr threw him into one wall and grabbed his axe. The intruder was clad in brown, a dagger in his belt, and clutched in his hand was a familiar pouch. Girfic looked at his bedside table then back to the thief, realizing he had been robbed. The Satyr dropped his axe and reached for the intruder, grabbing him by the collar, and throwing him to the ground. He pushed the door open and dragged the thief to the wooden stairs, paused.

 "Thief ! Intruder !" He bellowed, then he gave the unwelcome guest a powerful kick, sending him tumbling down the stairs, into a table. The intruder moaned, then hurriedly got to his feet, stumbling away, shoving guests away, al,ost pushing one cloaked woman into the crackling fire. He glanced at the Satyr at the top of the stairs, his axe now in his hands, fearful, and ran into the one-handed pirate, falling once again to the ground.

"Bloody lurcher !" Growled the Satyr as he walked towards the thief, his axe in both hands. The tavern had gone silent; the customers were watching, many recognizing the thief and glancing at him with aggravated expressions. Girfic scanned the faces, and realized that the thief was a common visitor to the tavern. He replaced his axe in his belt.

"What else did you take you bloody prowler !?" He aggressively hissed at the thief. He was slightly bent over, and sunlight made his boarskin cape look golden. He didn't look like a Satyr, but a mighty king of men, a ruler of a vast and powerful land, in anger. He was no king, however. Not one of men, nor of Satyrs or trees. He was a seafarer with no ship. He was a warrior, an axe wielder, slayer of his enemies. He was no king. He was a man robbed of his belongings, and in his eyes, the thief saw, a dangerous light. He was no king. He is no king.