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Nightmare walked into the pub. He had been expecting to have charged into a room full of armed mecha-assassins, but it was a nice change of pace. He sat down at a table and looked around, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Charmed, Sox." Moving his helmet across the counter top for more room, he waved at the bar keep, jovially indicating they were both ready for refills.

None of what she mentioned rang bells in the Imperial's mind. Arcane Materials? Sounds like an antique shop. He'd always been a little thick on the history of things -- it was enough to keep ones mind in he present. "Heavy Industries, huh? Outside of ships yards, we don't have much on this planet. Is your outfit from somewhere in the Outer Rim?"

"Yes, I run this establishment," the Keep says. He sees gestures for refills, and also a newcomer. "Ah, pardon me, miss." He makes a refill run, taking care of Dialed and Sox's drinks before greeting the boy with the green skin. "Good evenin', sir. What can I do fer ya?"

She thinks he wants to eat her, not unusual. The Tavern is the last place he expects to have to handle such problems, though, so it still stings. Burying his hurt, Zafnir replies with a joke.

"For me to want to eat you, I'd have to be quite hungry," he says, "and you would have to be a literal turkey." Perhaps the joke is in bad taste; it arouses only a few small chuckles from the bystanders. He smiles as sheepishly as a dragon can smile and tries to sit down again. He stands in a position where a table lies in the way of his rear so he sets down only the front of his body, posing for a moment like a playful dog, then he twists around a little and lays curled up into as small an area as possible. His heavy tail does manage to knock over a wayward stool, but no one seems to mind it.

"What I mean to say is; I do not want to eat you. Or anyone, for that matter."

She giggled, "I think we might both be veerrry far from home right now, and from very different corners of reality. The two companies are headquartered on the urban trade-world of Gyalith, though obviously have facilities in other places to take advantage of more helpful manaspheres. They used to be one company, and more focussed on the arcane materials manufacturing, but they started making enough products, mostly void sails for freighters and luxury craft, but also magic-assisted manufacturing equipment and sensors and magic based weapon systems, that they decided to split off the heavy industries into its own company. My family still owns most of it, but there's a mostly seperate board of directors and executive branch for each one," she explained, bringing up a holographic projection from a small, flat, rectangular device, which showed more or less a company website. It featured a large red-orange beast rearing up over a similarly coloured sunburst as the logo, and a number of pages of products of various kinds, most of them referring to strange terms that he'd probably at most seen in fantasy, and a lot of references to magic.

Nightmare looked at the barkeep. "I'll take a couple shots of whiskey. Thank you." He continued to look around, suspicious of what the other patrons could do.

The pirate chuckled at the dragon's words, still crouched, as small female peered over his shoulder at the harmless behemoth. "Aye, that he did, he seems to be a rather jolly fellow. Now, why should there be a reason to fear?" The elf waited a moment before standing up again and beckoning to the girl. "Come along, you'll be safe with me if ya are that a'feared of the scaly sir. Ah'll get ya a lemonade."

Xenith turned and walked back to the end of the bar, closest to the main door, and a bit farther from the Dragon, although he gave the big lizard a friendly wave. "Ah'll have a whiskey or rum, no ice or such nonsense, and if ya could gimme a bottle, not the glass, that'd be mighty appreciated. Also a lemonade for the little lass with the lime green curls if'n ya please." The elf's golden eyes twinkled briefly as he said this casually, and patiently to the bartender when he was available, plunking down a handful of gold coins.

Pix walked closely to Xeneith back to the bar, not realizing the unintentionally patronizing words he was using in her. At the age of 43, she was still quite young for her race, but certainly not a child. Not that this was an uncommon mistake she faced. In fact, she had taken advantage of the childish look her people had on several occasions. It made her a lot of money in the past even.

As she approached the stool she opened her palms, not moving her arms from her sides. A lime green circle appeared on the ground as she floated herself into the air, rotating around to sit on the bar stool backward. While she remained close to Xenith for security purposes, her eyes never left the dragon. She sat staring several moments at him as he curled up on the ground, blasting a barstool out of the way as he did.

The fear was slowly subsiding in her, and in turn the natural curiosity her people had starting nagging at the back of her head. Seeing as she was still a safe distance, and logic claimed he likely wasnt here to eat the patrons, and even if he was she had the nearby elf to throw in the way, she decided to try speaking to the Vyrin.

"Then what does a Vyrin eat?" she asked. Even her face and eyes were surrendering to a look of curiosity rather than fear. She wasnt completely over it just yet, but the fight or flight in her had, at this point, dissipated.

"If all you ate was turkies, there would be none left for the rest of the universe." She smiled weakly only for a moment. An equally poor quality joke really, but if her slightly shakey tone was taken into account, one might be able to forgive it.

The Keep fetches two bottles of whiskey, slides one to Xenith and pops the other to pour shots for Nightmare. As he sets the glass down in front of the green man, he adresses both amiable newcomers. "I'm sure ya lads might be confused; if ya have questions, I'll be glad to answer them."

Zafnir falters, just now fully realizing that she keeps calling him "Vyrin." Knowing that a Vyrin is most likely a type of creature similar to him (many other worlds hold creatures similar to him, he has learned), he chooses not to correct her. Not yet.

Feeling he has done well to break the frightful tension, although the elf helped with his honey-sweet voice, he chuckles at her timid joke and replies, "Of course I eat more than turkies. I hunt most feathered and furred beasts, provided they don't give me skin lesions or happen to have bright thoughts like you and me."

Vei walks in, and looks around. "What is this place?" She mumbles, her thick Australian/Irish accent coming out very much in just one sentence. Then she looked at Nightmare, a hint of remembrance, then sneaked a peak at Keep. "Oh. Well, while I'm here, I might as well order some food and drinks on my way to Laz." After mumbling that, she raises her voice just a little. "Um... Keep? May I have a cup of rum?" As she was sitting down, she noticed the abundance of people and felt quite claustrophobic. "Also... h-hi..."

As the Keep poured the shots for him, Nightmare kept the conversation going. "I've seen my fair share of weird things. Nothing surprises me much anymore."

Xenith seems entirely, not bothered by anything or anyone in the tavern. He popped the cap off the bottle with his teeth and took a good swig followed by a refreshed sigh. After which he slouched himself slightly against the counter, once again having the deceiving appearance of a drunkard.
"Naught like a good drink to warm the stomach and cheer the heart."

He beckoned to the bar keep not unkindly. "Aye, thank ya sir. Ah think the small lass is still missing her lemonade though mah friend." He patted the counter beside the little lady in a attempt to get her attention. "Did ya want a lemonade lass? Or aye' did you want anything else? It's on meh, darlin."

Rinket's feet stormed down the long cold hallway with guards in hot pursuit of her. The alarms blaring in her ears as the alarm lights flashed and painted the place red. She skidded coming on to a sharp corner and her eyes spotted a door to her right and she ran towards it.

Bursting through the door she tripped on her own two feet and landed hard on her belly. Her breath struggled to catch up with her as tried to steady her breathing. All that excitement and thrill was making her dizzy.

"Urf.." Hold on a moment...the floor feels different. Looks different. Defiantly not metal. She slid her hands to her side and pushed herself up and then she saw them. Sitting on stools and drinking, well they were drinking until she made a scene. What is this place?? She looked back at the door. The heck? That's not a metal sliding door just a regular ol' wooden one. Are her travel stones acting up again?

"Oh great..." Where is she now?

Pix's relief was becoming more and more apparent. As she collected her thoughts, the idea that this creature was from her homeworld seemed extremely unlikely. Not only had the Vyrin been extinct for thousands and thousands of years now, but she couldn't feel any energy within him to suggest he had originated there. This, of course didnt mean he wasnt a Vyrin to her, but she was relatively certain that he didnt feed on energy for survival.

She continued to stare at him for several long moments ever so curiously, having suddenly remembered the strange way she had been brought here, wherever here was, as well as her intent to sell her prize here.

The pat on the table beside her finally pulled her away from the captivating stare at the dragon. Her head quickly twisted back to epicenter of the noise, body following now too far behind. She then looked over and up to Xenith who had addressed her.

"A lemonade is fine, wherever we are probably doesn't offer oils anyway," she said smiling at him, "Thank you."

As she looked to Xenith, she thought he might be a good mark to sell to. A drunk alien with money was usually an easy person to sell said items to, the words didnt need to sound nearly as believable when someone was as intoxicated as he now seemed to be. Guilt quickly crept into her then, and dropped her smile as she mentally chastised herself for having such a thought. After how he had so quickly came to what she still believed was, in a way, her rescue, it was a dirty thought to try and sell him something that was still hot. Of course the item she was planning to sell wasnt worthless, in fact to some it may be quite valuable, thus the guards chasing her thru the streets of Navin. No she would have to find a different person to sell to.

A quizzical look passed by the troopers face as she began to speak. What did she mean by "different corners of reality"? And all this talk of magic; she had to be taking the piss at him. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that she might be a kriffing laser brain, with a few stars short of a solar system. Banishing that alarm from his thoughts, his focus came back to reality when what seemed like a high-end hologram projected from an innocuous hand-held object.

"Seems like corpo's in your reality don't skimp on fancy feathers either," he teased, admiring the mythic animal of the animated logo. The wording throughout the advertisements was Huttese to him. Seeing it without his helmets visual translator, it was all alien gibberish. Though the pictures of what he could assume were adverts for products had an foreign and exotic quality all on their own. He might have described them as fantasy -- for they looked fantastical indeed.

"Well, wherever your from Sox," he began softly, "must be quite the hub and home. And if a planet could produce such beauties, it most deservedly belongs among the jewels of the Empire." Gesturing as he spoke, most would see the flattery wasn't only toward the holograph products. Seeing what was left in his glass, the Imperial raised it toward his drinking companion in toast.

"To jewels, and beauties."

"Hmmm..." She watched his eyes. They flicked between the images, but the text... no, the properties of this place didn't provide visual translation, and he didn't seem to have contact lenses with Omniscience link. Oh well. "Well, you've gotta stand out in a crowded market," she replied, "And just having the best product doesn't mean much if people don't remember you. It's all about keeping in the customer's mind."

"I think the civilization it's already part of might object a little," she answered with a wink, "Major trade hubs for multiple trans-universal societies don't come cheap. It is a heck of a place though. You can buy or sell almost anything there, if you know who to talk to, and a lot of really pretty things are made there. Jewellery, enchanted or otherwise, elegant precision tools, efficient machines that don't sacrifice aesthetics, elegant and deadly weapons for the discerning special forces operative, mercenary, or self-reliant aristocrat, and, of course," she finished with a wink, "They say the people of my home are something to look at as well, even compared to others of our kind. To jewels and beauty." She clinks her glass to his, tosses back the shot, and exhales a small jet of flame from her lips into the air, keeping one golden eye fixed on him to judge his reaction.

Sometimes dragging someone into these things was too much fun. He seemed like the type with a tough mind, though. She was pretty sure he could handle the little adventure she was taking him on.

Awe and amusement etched itself into the soldiers ruggedly handsome features, replacing Paz's initial surprise. Initially skeptical of her words a moment ago, specifically how she hinted her home was somehow outside of the Empire -- which was impossible -- he had been delightfully disarmed by the sudden parlor trick. It had been many years since a younger Dialed had seen a similar skill displayed by Yidian Fire Eaters in the county fairs of his youth. All of this caused his usually taciturn and measured voice to boom in a jolly tenor, as laughter over took him. Seeing faces in the bar turn toward them because of his momentary indiscretion, the Trooper trailed off his laugh with a apologetic hand cough.

"Do you always try to impress complete strangers after the second drink? Or am I just lucky?"

"Impress? No, not normally. Show people what they're missing if they aren't used to the arcane arts, even if I'm not exactly a sorceress?" She stretched, arms over her head, lengthening herself somewhat in a slightly flaunting way, "Sure. Sadly, mana doesn't pass across my skin well, so I've never really been able to learn much spellcasting. I have a few little tricks, but not much that couldn't be immitated by slight of hand or technology. Well, other than maybe.... I'll see if this is enough."

And with that, she closed her eyes for a moment before a pair of massive feathered wings, the same colour as her fur, with while tips seperated from the red by a black stripe or bar, spread out from her back.

"Do the Valkyrie wings do it? They usually do."

Xenith grunted slightly as he slid the lemonade that the bar keep gave him over to the petite woman. He then swiveled in his seat to look around the room. A soldier, ah... And a fox, she was trying to impress him, a green man just a few more seats down, a worried dragon across the room, a shy irish lass and several other interesting people. The rouge chuckled softly and turned towards the girl with the thick accent similar to himself.

"Hello pretty lass. Allow meh to buy that rum for ya?" He took another swig from his bottle, how he was not totally tanked by the amount of liquor he has seemed to have consumed recently was a mystery. He had all his factualities still, but his drunken facade was not totally faked, he was indeed intoxicated.

Nightmare smirked cunningly, as he had just developed a plan to see how desperate the pirate was. "Thanks for all that barkeep, I'll be leaving." He sat down a pile of coins and walked over to the bathrooms. When he walked back to the table, he had shapeshifted to look like a girl in her early 30s. As (s)he sat down, (s)he looked around bored, thinking of what to do.

When the shy girl didn't respond right away, the pirate yawned, placed a few gold coins on the counter for her and got up. The elf was feeling bored. His long unruly, silver hair swung as he made his way over to the couches in the corner. These were near the Dragon who was still curled comfortably on the floor. Xenith's eyes never wandered to the women around him as he made his way through the bar. He wasn't looking for a lady.

Xenith slumped onto a cushion, pulling a blanket over and tucking it under his head. "Aye... Bar keep... Ah'll take a little rest over here ya?" He positioned his sword more comfortably alongside him, but left a hand resting lightly on the hilt. The spot the warrior chose had the entire veiw of the bar and doors, from the back. It wasn't just a random seating... Not too much later, the handsome, disheveled elf was snoring quietly, although both bottle and sword hilt stayed firmly in his hands.