Another win granted him another night of freedom. However, the fight that he had most recently been in was far more important to his owner than the rest, so as a reward for defeating his opponent and winning lots of coin for his owner, Thorgil was allowed more freedom than usual. It seemed the man was getting tired of Thorgil turning down the women he brought in for celebration, and he was stupid enough to think that the problem was that they weren't his type. So he allowed Thorgil to go to the nearest town to pick whatever woman he wants.

Thorgil sighed as he walked down the streets. All his owner ever cared about was money, women and booze. And he was a fool to assume Thorgil was the same. Every time he's forced into stepping in that ring to fight, his life is on the line. His life is kill or be killed; he didn't have time to waste thinking about trivial things. Besides, every win is a loss as well, in Thorgil’s eyes, because it means his enemy was killed. Whether they were another person, or a creature, it didn't matter. It was still a life, something that was forced to fight just as Thorgil is. Their deaths are nothing to celebrate, for they could have been prevented if people like his owner didn't desire the entertainment of the fight. He hated that man with a burning passion.

Although, Thorgil knew that this was likely the chance of a lifetime. His owner's men were watching him from the shadows to ensure he won't try escaping, so he was trapped here for the time being. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The town is full of activities Thorgil never got the chance to experience. He was raised on a poor farm, then captured and sold into slavery at a young age, growing in captivity and forced to fight for entertainment, after all. He hated having fun after winning a fight, but he wasn't one to let an opportunity pass. It may never come again.

The first place he went to was a pub with rooms to stay in just above it. It was late in the evening, so it was a good time to try booze he's never had before. All his owner ever drank was wine, and Thorgil had been curious about the beer and whiskey he's heard about.

Inside, the pub was crowded with people playing games, drinking, laughing and arguing. Some were looking for a good time, flirting with the women, while others were left alone to drink away their sorrows. There was even a small platform by one of the walls where entertainers could perform, but it was currently unoccupied.

The pub was a lot more rowdy than he had expected, but it didn't necessarily bother him. He made his way over to the bar, ordered his first shot of whiskey and downed it. The flavor was strong, causing him to make a face, but it wasn't bad. And so he ordered another, this time drinking it more slowly as he started thinking about what to do next.

Downing her drink, the woman cast her eye over the assembled patrons and smothered a wince. Oh, the place was busy enough, no worries there, but currently all the punters seemed to be concerned with was finding a warm body to pass the night away with. That, and starting fights, yelling at each other, quaffing booze, and ogling the staff. You know, usual pub things. Things Akori was well used to in her chosen career, but things that made it hard to read the mood of a room - not to mention she had arrived only this night in this city, and was totally unaware of any political leanings, rumours, or general temperament of the populace. She could find herself thrown out on her butt - or worse - if she picked the wrong song to debut her arrival in Mamlak. While she wasn't opposed to the odd 'being chased by an angry mob' method of passing a night, that was not at all what she had in mind for this night. She was achy, tired, and had spent far too long travelling to get here. She wanted a bed, food, and some coins weighing down her purse. If anyone cared to join her, well, she'd not say no to that, either. The kitsune had been forced to utilise her magic to see off bandits on the road, and she was feeling the lack of mana rather keenly. On the bar, her small songbird, Kikka, sat in a grumpy fuzz of feathers, glaring with beady eyes at the ruckus around her.
"Cheer up, grumpbeak," Akori murmured, running a finger over the bird's head. Kikka only glared harder.

Twisting on her stool, Akori tried not to grimace too much as she looked closer. Rough men, and not judging by dress or looks, but by manner. Well, she wouldn't know how it would go over until she started playing. If all else failed, she could run fast, and a hedge was as good as a bed right now, anyway. Picking up her lute - because she didn't think a harp would really suit this place, or a flute for that matter - the bard climbed onto the platform reserved for performers. It was as she was leaving the bar that a youngish looking man entered, and ordered a drink. From the way that he tossed the whiskey back, he was out to enjoy himself, though the face he pulled made her giggle, even as she set about tuning the lute, lest he take offence. He didn't seem like the other patrons - most of them were downing ale, beer, and cider - not to mention the hair and his eyes. Interesting. Maybe she would have to keep an eye on him.

As she started to play, a stirring marching song about soldiers from somewhere or other, going to fight someplace else, it became apparent that she wasn't the only one who had noticed the red-head enter. Kikka, still on the bar, turned a beady, dark eye on the man. While the songbird was glaring, the pack left behind by the bard gave a slight shake, and then another. One may wonder why she had left all her worldly goods unattended in a rowdy pub, but watching a little longer would reveal why. Slowly, a purple, scaled snout pushed aside the flap closing the pack, and revealed itself to be a somewhat rotund wyvern in miniature. Nostrils flared, picking up a myriad of interesting scents, and he cocked his head to one side, contemplating. With a huff, the pseudo-wyvern pulled himself from the bag, scrambled up the stool, and onto the bar. Kikka trilled in surprise, but the pseudo-wyvern was not to be deterred - he had smelled something tasty, and he wanted it! In a clacking of claws on wood, he happily plowed through all obstacles until he was before the red-headed man - and his drink. Jaws gaped, he hissed, well pleased with himself, and went to stick his snout into the glass. A flurry of blue and scolding cheeps put paid to that plan, colliding with the purple beast's head. Amidst a cacophony of squeaks, hisses, and scolding, Kikka ended up in the pseudo-wyvern's mouth.

As luck would have it - or maybe she was just attuned to mayhem, being she she often heralded it - Akori had paused between verses, and trailed off as it became obvious her 'pets' were having a scuffle. Plopping the lute on the platform, she dashed back to the bar, and caught the wyvern's jaws just before they closed. Alright, so she ended up leaning over the red-head, invading some personal space, but hey, they were all friends here, right? Also, her bird was about to become a snack, and that kinda mattered more to her at the moment than being demure or polite.
"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Akori. Do me a favour? Could you get my bird out of Terry's mouth? They're friends, really, he just sometimes forgets you don't eat friends."
As far as introductions went, well, it could have been better - could have been worse, too. Terry could have drank the guy's whiskey and tried to eat Kikka.

His drink was bordering half-empty when the room was suddenly filled with song. It drew Thorgil away from his thoughts and he turned to look towards the entertainment platform. What was an empty spot minutes ago was now occupied by a woman, and a highly attractive one at that. With luscious red curls, a flawless face and curvy frame, she was certainly one that could make any man weak. And Thorgil? Well, of course he was intrigued, and before he realized it, a small smirk of amusement made its way on his face. Her voice was captivating, her song telling a distracting tale. And, somehow, he was hit by a wave of nostalgia by the story being told.

As a child, he had been told many tales of when his adopted father served as a knight for the Dragon King during his prime. Thorgil recalled how excited he became every time he was told one of those stories, and how he used to run around the village telling everyone that he would one day become a knight, too. He would playfight with the other children and beg his father to teach him the ways of a sword. Who knew how quickly such happiness could be destroyed by tragedy.

He lifted his glass to his lips and took another sip, keeping his eyes locked on the entertainer. Until he noticed something move from the corner of his beastly eyes. He looked at the bar top, blinking with slight surprise and a raised brow when he saw the small dragon. As if that wasn't odd enough, it seemed interested in his drink. His brow furrowed and he raised a hand in preparation to shoo it away, ignoring its hissing, when a bird suddenly attacked the dragon.

“What the heck?!” Thorgil jerked his hand away and leaned back on his stool in an attempt to keep from getting a few scratches as the two fought viciously. He watched them in bewildered silence, trying to wrap his head around the sudden randomness of two creatures fighting in a pub. And it seemed his attention wasn't the only one they had managed to catch. The singing stopped, arguments and discussions as well as curious eyes watched the dragon and bird.

Just as Thorgil decided something had to be done, a woman appeared, leaning over him to stop the two from fighting before the bird was completely engulfed by the dragon. “Your pets I presume?” He asked, almost with an irritated tone. Then, he noticed she was the entertainer. Sighing lightly, he reached out to the dragon and carefully removed the bird from its mouth, just as the lady asked of him.

“Forgive me for being rude,” he finally replied, setting the bird down and wiping away any slobber that got on his hand with a towel the bartender kindly handed to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Akori. I'm Thorgil,” he offered a small smile and gave a nod of greeting.

The annoyance in his tone didn't go unnoticed, but since he did as she asked and rescued Kikka, Akori felt it prudent not to comment on it. Besides he had gone from enjoying a drink, listening to a rather stirring song courtesy of herself, to fishing a slobber covered, irritable bird from a wyvern's gullet. Who wouldn't be annoyed? Plucking Kikka from the bar, Akori set about dabbing saliva from her feathers with a rag she pulled from her pack. The songbird tolerated this with a seething kind of irritation, glaring at the rotund form of Terry as if her ire alone could set him aflame. For such a small, delicate thing, the bird was certainly spirited, Akori had to give her that much. They had been together for years, the bard having rescued the bird from a hungry crow, nursing Kikka back to health afterwards. From then, Kikka had simply stayed with Akori, and walked the worlds as the kitsune did. Akori wasn't sure how that worked, she'd never tried to bring anyone else with her when she plane-stepped, but then again, she never planned when she was going to plane-step either. Noticing Terry making wistful eyes at the whiskey, Akori dug a small biscuit from her pocket, and rolled it towards the bottomless pit. It was snapped up with deceptive swiftness, and soon gone from this world.

"Think nothing of it," Akori replied, setting a now dry - and somewhat ruffled - Kikka on her shoulder, "One doesn't go into a pub expecting to fish a bird from a wyvern's greedy gut," the kitsune finished with a narrowed look toward the purple stomach with wings. She had been planning on saving enough gold to open her own tavern somewhere, a hub for stories and adventurers to gather, but feeding Terry was making a rather good dent in her savings. Akori could only hope he was saving up energy in preparation for hibernation, after which he would emerge a full grown wyvern - and from there, either fly away and hunt for himself, or become a mount so they could save on boat-fares. Somehow, though, even Akori's optimistic nature didn't think that was going to happen. At least he was good for guarding her pack, well, most of the time. When he didn't feel like crawling out to try and steal booze.
"The pleasure is mine, Thorgil," she said, finally realising she was still standing rather close. Not that she minded, rather the opposite, but some people could eb touchy about personal space. No point pushing things further than need be for now. With a small smile, and a shrug of one shoulder, she moved away to fetch her lute. No sense in leaving it laying about for someone to walk away with.

Once she had reclaimed her instrument, Akori returned and perched on a stool next to Thorgil, deciding on conversing with him over further singing. This way, she got to talk to someone interesting, and keep an eye on her 'pets' at the same time.
"I'm sorry my…companions interrupted your drink, Thorgil," Akori said, honest in her apology. Pranks were fun when they were just that - pranks. When her pets were trying to eat each other and steal drinks, that was another matter entirely. She gave Terry another narrowed look in warning, gesturing with a finger for him to stay right there.
"Can I buy you another?" she offered, raising a hand to attract the barkeep's attention, "I'll make sure Terry doesn't get his snout anywhere near it this time. Promise."