Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!

[Carlotta]

(OOC: This is an Open SL .. which means, anyone that would like to contribute to the stories growth, just simply post. It could be by interacting in the Blood Bore Tavern, where this takes place. Or adding by posting of another area in which something occurs. It can be written out, or a post of live RP to add to the story.)

There was a war brewing, but not in a traditional sense. There would be no clashing of Knights swords, or the pillage and plunder from Bands of Warriors. No, this was more along a political scheme of events. One where those that held power and prestigue were plotting against others of their kind. It didn't take a genius to figure out where sides laid, and to what degree they would stoop to get what they wanted. Plotting and whispers of revenge would drift through the Port via the docks and market areas. The tales would vary in the whos, whys and wheres, but the base plot was always familiar.

The tales would drift into the various businesses, but become more prominant in places that sold products that easily loosened ones tongue. It would be in one of the taverns along the docks that such an event was to take place, and an unlikely witness that had the intelligence to put the varied pieces together. It would be at the Bloody Bore Tavern that a young Irish lass was seeking a place to rest her tired feet and fill her belly with the warmth of a fine blend of tea.

The Bloody Bore was indeed a rough and rowdy establishment, and she did stick out like a sore thumb in her fine attire of satin blue gown, the slightly less than modest neckline, trimmed in an eye catching edging of white lace. Long dark hair was worn up in a bun, held in place upon the back of her head with a ocean blue colored webbing, an ocassional black pearl to decore the simple hair net. Whisps of hair framed delicate features and drifted to dance along the slender column of her neck. Soft brown eyes held a kind nature as they drifted over the crowded room; how deceptive.

She would take note of eyes that would be upon her, and the nature in which some of them gazed her way. She found it best to simply ignore it, and most generally the individual would lose interest. Some knew better than to approach the Barrister, not just because of her legal position, but due to the company she kept. Not the most savory of individuals to come into contact with, and those who would smile in your face as they gutted you.

A keen interest she found in the conversations taking place around her. The whispers of a secret council that met near the docks by the cover of night. Of how they were plotting to over throw some of the more powerful families in the Port area, to take control of their holdings, and in turn the Port City itself.

The Nobles battles borne from greed would benefit those who shadowed the docks and warehouse areas. Nobles weren't ones to dirty their own hands with deeds, but to either hire or force less fortunates to not only enact upon it, but to take the fall if they were to be caught; collateral damage. The Nobles would sacrafice not only individuals, but entire families to gain what they wanted.

This of course was found interesting by the Barrister who sat sipping her tea, watching the ever changing sea of faces that came and went from the tavern. With no place to hurry off to, and more information to be gained, she chose to spend the evening at the tavern ....

[Veronica]

So long ago it seemed when her life was given a second change. Not with the most reputable of people, but they were like the family she lost so long ago. Still she had that shadow that hung over her, of the one who sought to reclaim what he believed to be his alone. Many years have passed since his last attempt, but she never rested easy in believing he had completely given up.

It was with this unspoken unease, that she was quick to jump at the opportunity of working at a new establishment. Her employer of the Dockside Tavern offered her the position of tending at her new establishment, the Bloody Bore. It had only been a week since she took up her new spot, and the setting wasn't much different from that at Sharks Bay. The crowds were as rowdy and free of hands as the other tavern, though there were more noble lines that seemed to frequent here that didn't at the Dockside.

She admired her employer, Carlotta, who had as much grit as the men who were drinking and being boisterous this evening. A good role model to follow after was her way of thinking, and she hoped to one day find her a position that would keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. She was well paid and provided for, never a need or want for anything, except to be something more than a simple bar-tender one day.

For now, she was complacent, as she moved along the bar refilling tankards and pouring shots for those who sat there. Refilling the vessels brought to her by the servers, and cleaning up the messes that drinking men always left. At least she didn't have to clean the rooms upstairs, she gave thanks for that. Especially the ones being used by the loose women and drunken sods they drug up there.

However she did find it funny how these men bragged of their virality, only to be taken upstairs by the women who applied them with more alcohol until they were in a stupor, then robbed them blind before dumping their drunk bodies on the docks. None ever realized what truly happened, thinking they had been shook down after leaving the wenches moaning for more.

It was busy this evening, and renewed gossip ran abundant. She noticed how Carly was intently listening to each and ever word. Not sure of why her employer found such drunken ramblings of interst, but if she did, it was something important, of that she was sure. If something was to go down, she'd know once certain faces made their appearance. The crew and Captain of the Black Swan were like a bad omen when they arrived in town.

[Corothius Encinosa]

‡The bloody bore was indeed a fine establishment. It's layout accredited it suitable to provide homeage for the wealthy, and more than enough civility to keep the cut-throats and purse-snatchers from making it a safe-haven or even an ideal local to practice their trade at.

Corothius' ship had docked within the not so distant harbor earlier that day. When the sun had been shining brilliantly bright amongst that ever so clear blue sky where not a cloud had drifted across the expanse of the horizon. Allowing him and his men to bask in the clearness of the day, and bronzen their skin all the more whilst reveling in the cooling breeze that drifted well with the passing of the ship over waters. A breeze that kept ones flesh cool and unsusceptible to sweat. Unless you were hard at work, such as the handful of men who were punished for their laziness and given the errand of resupplying the ship's stock of fresh water and other supplies that were a little rarer in Port Kiel than they were elsewhere. And in the same, could be traded off for that little bit more coin elsewhere due to such a rarity. It was a small means of profiting, if not more so a means of aiding those they knew here and there and having a mind of giving in to favors. Merchants after all were ideal participants in funding some of their ventures. At times, these merchants would acquire very, very valuable merchandise that would need trustworthy hands to securely transport the item from one place to another. He and his men were well suitable for such roles, as was his ship. A ship most suitable for speed and preying on larger ships. Larger ships that were heavily invested in for the transportation of much larger quantities of goods and person.

There were a handful of men who were known to accompany him when he went about his business in one port or another. They were for the better part armed and prepared to keep their name a remaining valued card to put into play by reputable merchants and nobles alike. They held a reputation for practicing the trades of hostility upon the seas against countries his own were at war with. Yet, they were not so popular or miscreantile to have a bounty upon their heads or even being known to commit such wrongs. There was even word he was involved in aiding in the securing of the Jade isles in the name of Spain, a feat that was even now drawing in massive profits from mines that were sprouting along the northern stretch of the isle.

The shipmates thus entered the establishment with muted hopes that their preferred table was not taken, finding it vacant, though one or two nearby were not, their path was set with further ease. Those who were nearby scrutinized and stereotyped to decide if their conversations would have to become discreet or if their tongues would be allowed to wag with freedom and safety.

It was well known that there were matters that were not to be spoken of in public. Or within the eye of any who could relay such information to the wrong ears. Something that was easily done upon docks, and even moreso whilst doused beneath drunkenness that was sought where the bar kept their liquors pristine, and their glasses clean of the muck that might remain in their depths from women who merely swapped one with another amidst the guise of a towel over its lip.

For a loose tongue was an assured path that would lead to trouble. Ears were always listening, eyes were always perceiving, judging, and accruing their own views upon matters that were either to be preached about or kept well away from ones own company. There though, were those further matters. Matters that influenced profits, and ones reputation for instance. Many a noble relied heavily on both, and those who treaded alongside them were well educated in the ways that were not to be pursued by Corothius and his men. Such nobles were of the sort that he personally detested.

Entire foundations at times were put at risk, gambled upon or invested in. Stakes being made upon people who knew not even the names of those exchanging the funds. Nor were these people of minds civil enough to do so if one looked at their daily personas and jestings. Such revealings at times led to dealings that would ensure such individuals would not be part of their wagers again.

Even in biblical times, punishments were made upon more than mere individuals who committed such atrocities. Such threadings continued to be woven amongst civility even of those weaving were the very ones that were preached against.

[Veronica]

She would wait on those that approached the bar, bellowing for service or asking in the most polite of manners. All walks of life intermingled here, from the well dressed to the most shabby of attire. At times she'd even slip from behind the bar to tend to the tables. Two metal pitchers in hand filled with ale, to top off or refill empty tankards and collect the coins. At times she'd be met with the slap of hand against her backside, and she had the bruises to prove that not all were simply love taps. There were those who would pull her upon their lap to gain the roar of their cohorts laughters, cheers, and jeers. Other times she'd be groped, pinched, or an attempt to manhandle assets. Those would be countered with her elbow to ribs, a hand to face, or a pitcher to meet alongside their head. Though rare was it that any took her defense actions to heart, or retaliated. Those that did raise a hand, or dump her uncerimoniously upon the floor, were usually quickly dealt with by those that frequented the tavern often, or were loyal to the protection of her employer.

Even with all this, she'd continue to do her job. In truth, she enjoyed the work, although hard physically and at times it took its toll mentally or emotionally with the various abuse. There were always those who made it worth while, when she'd tend to their needs of drink or food, or direct them towards one of the women who were free to aide in the sowing of their seed. They paid well, and took favor upon her attentive service. None would go thirsty or hungry as long as she was at work, and the two other servers were just as dilligent as she. Under the watchful eye of her employer, she'd continue her tasks. Moving to the various tables to serve the patrons there, or clear the mess left behind by those who had departed.

Sometimes she got jostled, like she did when the group of men arrived. Although she knew it was unintended as they sought out their usual table in which to sit. The men of the sea were always the best tippers, especially if it was their payday. If the mens pockets were empty, most generally their captain would see to their tabs. Once the men were settled, she'd assist the two servers in seeing their tankards were full, and shot glasses filled, and a bounty of food to be delivered to feed at least that appetite. The appetite for flesh would be tended to in the rooms upstairs, if not in the hallways of the upper level, or in the public shower. As long as the girls were paid for their service, they cared little where they tended to the mans needs; unless discreation was of the utmost importance. Veronica wasn't one of these women, but she would indeed direct the men to them, or let them know when one became available to tend to their needs.