Swig, shanty, stew

Snow threatens. The overcast skies coil ominously, blotting out both the twin moons and the stars, and while the wind outside is not brisk it is nonetheless enough to send a chill swirling through the streets and alleys of Alne. Against this fobidding backdrop, the lights of houses and taverns stand out as beacons of hope and warmth.

The 'Hostess of Fertility' is one such place. Though it lacks the raucous din of most taverns, the smell of stew and fresh bread is enough to draw many an Adventurer through its doors. So many, in fact, that the tables are packed; Robert is therefore obliged to comfortably install himself at the bar. And there he sits, somewhat impertinently perched atop a stool as he waits for his meal, fingers drumming out an arhythmic beat atop the bar's wooden countertop.

Brann wanders in looking around breathing in the scent of stew and bread. He moves to the bar and removes his pirate hat those his cutlass is still at his hip he sits on a stool and adjusts his jacket. "Can I get a bowl of that stew some bread and an ale with a shot of whiskey too?" He calls out placing some money on the bar as he peeks around.

The waitress is polite if a bit on the frazzled side, as might be expected given the volume of customers. Brann's order is scribbled down, and she whisks off to the kitchen in order to place his request with the chef. When she returns it is with Robert's order--a bowl of stew and what looks to be a decidedly non-alcoholic sort of juice. Both are plunked down in front of him, leaving the stew to steam enticingly, and cold drops of condensation to drip down the outside of his glass. And then she's off once more, tending to the latest group to blow into her establishment.

Robert...lets his meal sit there, after testing it with an index finger placed against the side of his bowl, registering its temperature with an upraised eyebrow and a tightening of his lips. Too hot, it would seem. But this gives his time to flash a quick grin at Brann, who is by his right elbow. "I see you ordered what can be smelled from the street," he observes. "You won't be disappointed, I think."

Brann smiles and thanks the waitress as he waits for his order. His fingers tap and drum upon the bar his eyes dart this way and that taking in the amount of people any weapons that may be had and all entrances and exits. Yes hes hyper vigilant bordering on paranoia or so it would appear as he Robert speaks to him Brann looks up and nods. "A good hot bowl of stew some bread to dip it in and a good drink, always a pleasure to have."

"Amen to that," Robert answers, giving the bar a crisp whack with the meat of his palm. Another test of his stew bowl. Nope, still too hot. He settles instead for his juice, which he sips from carefully as his own gaze also roams over the tavern's occupants. While observant enough, it's of the people-watching variety, rather than the hyper-observant variety, though both his clothing and the friction-smoothed handle of the sword at his waist certainly suggest he's been in more than his fair share of scraps. Either he's just that confident in his skills, or this institution is--for whatever reason--perfectly safe. "Especially with just a dash of curry to liven things up. You can relax. You won't be knifed here." Pause. "Probably. High risk, low reward." A second pause. "No offense meant."

Brann chuckles and nods his head a bit. "Aye but its never a bad thing stay vigilant and careful. Thats how one manages to stay alive and keep those things that one acquires yes?" He asks with a chuckle as his drinks are brought to him he shoots the whiskey back before taking a sip of the ale. "Anyway the names Brann. And you didnt offend me, I see no point to taking offence so easily. Lifes to short for that kind of crap."

Stew and bread follow rapidly on the heels of whiskey, being plunked down with a minimum of fuss in front of Brann. "To be fair, even staying alive is optional nowadays, so." He grins, his expression lopsided as he lifts his glass in a silent cheers. "-Very- low risk, really." He offers a dip of his chin by way of greeting. "Name's Robert. Pleasure. So, what do you do, Brann?" Not that Brann's outfit leaves much in the way of doubt.

Brann nods as he waits for the stew to cool down a bit taking another sip of his ale. "Indeed I can see that, however I meant that as figurative more so than literal." He chuckles and than looks around a bit again as he grins looking at Robert. "I procure and ship rare goods."

"Oh?" Robert's eyebrows lift, then, and he reaches for his own bowl of stew. His fingers tap against its exterior once more. Deciding that it is finally cool enough, he settles for rapidly spooning it to his lips. Mercifully, he makes sure he swallows before he says anything. "Sounds both challenging and exciting," Robert comments, settling in to meticulously cut up a chunk of...something resembling beef that is a bit on the large side. "What's the most challenging part of that, as you see it?"

Brann nods his head and dips some of his bread into his stew and eating a chunk of the bread and taking another sip. "Yes, yes it is fun and interesting, and yes challenging and exciting is definitely a thing." The second part of that question than makes him look up a bit. "Hmmm... Id say people attempting to board my ship and take what Ive procured."

SpritesHero squints just a touch at that, spoon arresting in mid-air as his eyebrows slide upwards. "Does....that sort of thing happen often?" he inquires, if a touch dubiously. "I know the Hunter's Guild has had requests up for neutralizing pirates in the area, and that it seems to be a consistent problem. They do dispatch counter-piracy teams every couple of days. But I had no idea what the magnitude was, from the point of a fellow in shipping such as yourself. Any nifty tricks for shaking them off? Other than just stabbing them, I suppose."