The tavern was set above the waves, on a pier that seemed to just barely balance above the roaring of the ocean. Every step seemed a gamble, with planks left open here and there, to give a sight to the depths below. Rope dangled from every hole, as both a way to return, if one fell the fifteen to twenty feet and to give men a challenge. The game was always the same, the one who climbed down, dipped and returned the fastest was the winner.
If men could return. Sometimes the sea's churning was too much for even the strongest pirate to survive.
Tables in the tavern were made of fine wood and seemed stable enough. The chairs were set in grooves to keep the occupants from going too far and flinging themselves to a cruel watery grave in a drunken stupor. A bar settled against the far wall, beside the stair case that lead up to two floors of rooms. A little stage stood off to the left, connecting with the VIP area, where there was the only two sets of full floors. Even behind the bar it was sparse, forcing the employees to do a dance as they worked.
Nimble girls worked, running over the boards, dancing around customers, content to push whomever dared insult them or make trouble. They served drink and food, sometimes sitting upon a lap for a better tip. Every girl wore jewellery that was clearly gifted to them.
The only exception to that was Baby Doll. New to the world of serving, she was bare of jewels and finery wearing a folded, ripped and faded Jolly Roger as a shirt; a pair of loose pants tucked, tied and sewn to fit her better; a pair of boots that pinched her toes as she walked and finally a pair of shells glued onto clips to keep her wild hair from her eyes.
If men could return. Sometimes the sea's churning was too much for even the strongest pirate to survive.
Tables in the tavern were made of fine wood and seemed stable enough. The chairs were set in grooves to keep the occupants from going too far and flinging themselves to a cruel watery grave in a drunken stupor. A bar settled against the far wall, beside the stair case that lead up to two floors of rooms. A little stage stood off to the left, connecting with the VIP area, where there was the only two sets of full floors. Even behind the bar it was sparse, forcing the employees to do a dance as they worked.
Nimble girls worked, running over the boards, dancing around customers, content to push whomever dared insult them or make trouble. They served drink and food, sometimes sitting upon a lap for a better tip. Every girl wore jewellery that was clearly gifted to them.
The only exception to that was Baby Doll. New to the world of serving, she was bare of jewels and finery wearing a folded, ripped and faded Jolly Roger as a shirt; a pair of loose pants tucked, tied and sewn to fit her better; a pair of boots that pinched her toes as she walked and finally a pair of shells glued onto clips to keep her wild hair from her eyes.
(Curious about her look?)
The door to the tavern slammed open, as a windblown soul entered. First time to port, but not the first time being heard of. The seaman with the seal skin on his shoulders. That was pretty distinct. And so the whispers began, heralding the man as his booted heels clung tiredly over the floorboards to a unoccupied table.
This time, it was whispering about the man's queer feyish moods. And' bout how he just showed up in freeport towns here and there; always looking for work. And how though he always arrived alone, he never seemed to catch charter on any vessel out. It was mighty strange, but pirates and superstition went hand in hand. That was nothing new.
Whispers where the same in every port, always from one or two old, blue-haired salty suspicious seadogs who knew everyone. The talk was never enough that anyone was taken seriously. People talked tales and spun them endlessly, lies spread like wildfire.
Tyreese surely seemed to pay it no mind, another soul of note would wander in soon, and the spinning of tales would weave around this man instead. He nimbly dodge over the holes in the floor, as he walked a straight and sure to his table, and flopped down tiredly. He drew three pieces of coin from his pocket, and tossed them onto the table in a flippant gesture, before drawing a deck of sheepskin cards from his pocket...Not playing cards, they looked of pagan witchery. He shuffled them between his limber, tightened fingers, waiting for a wench to get him something.
This time, it was whispering about the man's queer feyish moods. And' bout how he just showed up in freeport towns here and there; always looking for work. And how though he always arrived alone, he never seemed to catch charter on any vessel out. It was mighty strange, but pirates and superstition went hand in hand. That was nothing new.
Whispers where the same in every port, always from one or two old, blue-haired salty suspicious seadogs who knew everyone. The talk was never enough that anyone was taken seriously. People talked tales and spun them endlessly, lies spread like wildfire.
Tyreese surely seemed to pay it no mind, another soul of note would wander in soon, and the spinning of tales would weave around this man instead. He nimbly dodge over the holes in the floor, as he walked a straight and sure to his table, and flopped down tiredly. He drew three pieces of coin from his pocket, and tossed them onto the table in a flippant gesture, before drawing a deck of sheepskin cards from his pocket...Not playing cards, they looked of pagan witchery. He shuffled them between his limber, tightened fingers, waiting for a wench to get him something.
Baby Doll came over, almost missing a step here or there, another girl righting her before she can fall to her death. She nodded at the stranger, "Um, what can I get you love?" She didn't think that perhaps bring ale straight to the table might be an idea, instead, waiting for his reply. Her pretty face looked eager for work, money and perhaps a gift or two, like the other girls.
"Aye, ye can get me something, sweet thing." Tyreese gave her eyes a steady gaze, as he continued to shuffle the strange cards. "I be needing a flagon of ale, a warm meal, and a bit of company to be warming me lap and keeping me entertained." He gave her a small wink, as he flicked the top card of his deck, and laid out the top four cards, face down. "Trust me, Missy, I be good for it." Them he began to flip the cards, the faces and titles started up from the table, the first was a prancing female figure without clothes strutting like a Ballerina, entitled Actor. The next was the edge of a globe, with six six-pointed stars above it, and it was entitled The Stage. The third depicted a hand grasping three objects; a knife, a key, and a rose and was entitled Prop. And the final card, showed a whimsical beautiful woman, her back crowned in a butterflies wings, and it was entitled; The Fairy. Tyreese began to ritually lay the rest of the cards face down over these first four, waiting for Baby Doll to get to what he asked for.
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