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Daos could care less about whether he can drink here or not. Immediately losing interest in the conversation, he turns his focus on the man in the corner the fisherman spoke of, the one who supposedly found the corpse in question.

[ooc]Ever the diplomat eh Jaded[/ooc]

Angel stays sitting, holding her drink in her hand. She does turn around slightly facing the man, she makes no sudden movements.

"My friends and I simply require a drink and some rest for a while. You have to ask, do you want this situation dealt with? Or would you like another corpse washed up on the shore?" She looks to Fraso, keeping her voice level, while trying to distract the man from Doas's attempt to find some information.

"We we told to wait here for Hizzonor I believe. I doubt he would be very happy if we moved on before he got here." She smiles saying nothing else.

Bastian assesses the situation that unfolds before him, chugs the remainder of his drink, stands, and says "Well, no sense in arguing. The locals would know best in situations like this!" He turns toward the man confronting them all and ingratiates himself, "Our humblest apologies. We are not from here so we were unaware that there was a select clientele that patronized this establishment. We simply asked the best place to get a drink when we entered town and we were directed here. Apparently it was meant as a joke to those who sent us here, knowing full well that it was a fisherman-only bar, and we are clearly not fishermen!" He ends with a small, close lipped smile, feigning embarrassment.

"Well, everyone drink up! No need to give these gentlemen reason for grievance!" He says this turning to his table, giving them a broad wink. Turning to the spokesman, he asks one final question, "Would you mind if one of us questioned the one who found the corpse? If necessary we could speak with him outside, but I think the drink may loosen his tongue a bit."

The big man at the corner table looks over at Bastian and grins, then has a brief conversation with the other captain sitting nearest to him. "Give them the pop quiz, Jon. If they get it right, they can stay. If they get it wrong, the priest has to have a greenhorn's snack before I'll talk to them."
Hearing this, one of the younger men nods, gets up, and walks out of the pub.

"Fair enough?" Jon asks, then he takes a deep breath and says: "How many ropes are there on a ship?"

Bastian seems a bit wary, considering he didn't agree to even take this challenge. He glances to his companions, sighs, ponders a bit, and says "Honestly, I've yet to hear a sailor ever mention the word rope...."

Angel says nothing, she has said all she can on this subject.. She knows nothing of boats.

[OOC: I'm going to justgo with the whole "Never heard a sailor mention rope" answer and see what he says....]

Jon ponder's Bastain's answer, and looks to the other captains for a sign.

Seconds later the young deckhand who had run out returns. His knit cap sports a single green horn of yarn on it.
He's grinning and flourishing up a six-inch fish.

The old bear of a captain says, over the noise in the taproom: "He missed it by one, Jon.
"Tell you what, priest. You get one bite down, and you and your folk can sit here and drink with us." This gets a moderate roar from the fishermen.
"Greenhorn finishes the rest." This gets an even bigger roar.

Jon grabs the greenhorn by his sleeve. "Give him the fish, Pog. What'll it be, priest? Head or tail?"

Angel keeps her cool, she slips her drink and looks to Bastian, her hand brushes his clothes , almost saying: "I'm here if you need me..." Her eyes remain impassive.

Bastian winks at the greenhorn and says "I'll do you one better, captain. I'll match him bite for bite!"

The fishermen are amused by Bastian's show of bravado, hooting and hollering. One of the deck bosses suggests that Bastian and the deckhand each start from a different end of the fish and meet in the middle ("Lady and the Tramp" style, if I may be permitted an anachronistic reference).

Bastian rises and reaches for the fish, and is unpleasantly surprised. A fresh fish would be difficult enough. This isn't a fresh fish. It's from out of a bait pail. The smell is apalling. But Bastian soldiers on and takes his first bite, crunching down and removing the fish's head with his teeth and struggling to swallow it while his eyes tear and his nose runs.

The greenhorn matches him.

Bastian takes his turn. It's not easy. And the greenhorn follows.

After about four bites each, the fish is gone. Bastian is queasy.

[OOC]@Ish - please give me a CON roll to see if Bastian can keep this little snack down. [/OOC]

Following the snack, the fishermen part ranks to allow Bastian and his chosen companions to approach and join them.

The bearish captain grins as Bastian approaches. His teeth are stained yellow from the tobacco he constantly smokes. He has long stringy brown hair and a grey-touched beard. His tunic sleeves have been cut off, revealing thick arms covered from forearm to deltoid with tattoos. On his left arm, a northern raider and a sea serpent, on his right, a black-winged angel of death. He has to look of an old soldier who has since moved up in the ranks – losing his trim physique but retaining a stock of muscle beneath the extra weight he has put on. "That was nicely done, priest. You made something happen, there. And as I always say..."
Several of the younger men, clearly this captain's crew, say in unison: "You can make things happen, you can watch things happen, or you can wonder what happened."
The captain grins and nods his head in appreciation. "I am Captain Filaris."

[OOC] Who, besides Fraso, is joining Bastian at the captain's table?[/OOC]

(Con roll - 16)

Bastian, sticks his head out the window, empties his stomach, and then takes his seat at the table. "I wouldn't have matched him had I known it was from the chum bucket....." Bastian says with a half-hearted smile. He reaches into his robes and withdraws his flask of his 'special brew'. One quick shot and he holds it in his mouth for a second or two before swallowing. He offers some to the captain and says "I can assure you, it's a lot better than what I just had!"

Angel stands, stepping towards the Captains Table, she attempts a smile.
"Sometimes you make a decision that haunts you for the rest of your life.. Yet, you carry on." She offers her hand.
"Everyone calls me Angel. Thank you for allowing us to stay, we are trying to help."

Captain Filaris looks at Angel and rubs his stubbled chin, pondering her words. "I think you might be right. Your mistakes can haunt you forever."

The handsome blonde captain to his right says, grinning: "Fil's three former wives are evidence of that."

"Exactly, Sigurd, exactly. But I was thinking more about Jon and that uruk wench."

"She wasn't uruk!" Jon calls out.

"Not what I heard. I also heard she had an Adam's apple, and that her wedding tackle was bigger than yours."


Fraso having taken a seat next to Angel, sits there unspeaking, clearly not knowing how to insert himself into a conversation like this.

Angel sits comfortably in the chair, used to Banter of this type, having spent the last few years in Merc Bars she does not take offence, usually she stays well out.

"That sounds like one of the cases I was referring to. I have seen many a man walk off with someone, only to find a little 'extra'!" She turns to Bastian, giving a Wry smile, "What about you?..." She giggles. "So? What are we drinking? May I buy you one, my offer of earlier still stands."