"This should be the place, huh....." Gargan looked at the repaired doorway of the tavern, "Golden Wings...." Reading off the name on the sign hanging just above the doors, Gargan steeled his nerve and entered. He could never get used to this feeling, making an entrance to a new tavern. "Hah....I wish Drown Man Drink was here.....I missed those guys."

 

The first thing that greeted the birdman was the alcoholic smell that permeated in the air. It was strong, strong enough to make him feel drunk without taking any slip of drink. All eyes were on him, the newcomer, adding to the fact that his appearance is a little more than exotic here. Still, that was something he is familiar with, and shrugged it off, making his way to one of the empty stools by the counter. Most of the customers seemed to prefer a table instead, leaving quite a few for Gargan to choose from.

 

"Welcome. Haven't seen you around. Outlander, I assume?" The barkeep asked, as he slid Gargan a piece of papers cataloging their offered drink. "I recommend Gialieth's Drink, if you are new here, or Dragon Beard if you like something strong."

 

"Then, I, um.... I've one Gialieth's Drink then." Gargan answered, uncertain of his choice. He hasn't had something strong in a while, but starting with one is never a good direction, unless one is a dwarf. "The house seems pretty packed tonight, huh?"

 

"ONE GIA!" The barkeep barked, as he got a glass ready. "Aye, everyone seems to love hanging out after a hard day. You know, repairing the cities, getting everything back to normal.....The Worldshift causes a lot more stress and unrest among the people than the last Spirit War." He answered offhandedly, as a younger waiter slugged a barrel next to him. The keep turned on one of the valves, and filled the glass with the golden ale.

 

"Oh....It smells sweet. I didn't expect that." Gargan commented, and then took a slip. The cold, sweet liquid drained down his throat, and he quite liked it. It is not often that he drinks sweet ale. "Say, did what the Duke did also contributed to this?"

 

"The Duke? Grogar?" The keep scratches his head, unsure of what to say. "I suppose so...."

 

"Let me tell ya!" The dwarf next to Gargan interrupted, and he could feel the burn of alcohol just from this man's beard. "That Duke there, see, he was a great commander. One of the best ever. Waaaay back in the Spirit War. Heard him win a battle or two.....But, ya know, we has been at peace for, what, 15-16 years now...."

 

"20" The keep corrected the dwarf.

 

"Yea, yeah. Whatever. 20,15 not much different." The dismissed. "Anyway, we have been at peace for a long time. No big battle, no military action. and that man has been itching for some for a while more."

 

"Duke Grogar seems to be a military man, then?" Gargan asked.

 

"Seem? HAH!" The dwarf laughed, "He IS the military man. Big, strong, charismatic.....His troops love him. The people, not so much. Well, that is more recent though....." And the dwarf slump over, mumbling the rest of his sentence.

 

"This expedition of his, he meant" The keep continued. "A lot of us are unsure if that is the wise move. Young Master Erlan just makes contact with some Nova native, and this expedition could risk a war with them."

 

"..." Gargan kept silent.

 

"Even the High Council is at war with each other, debating whether or not to call off the thing.....Last I heard, the Warhawk seems to be the majority, but the Moderate doesn't seem to back down either."

 

The weather seems to clear for now, but only gods know for how long, as Gargan continued his drink, and moved onto the next, under the keep recommendations.

 

The drinks here are good. Very good in fact, as he could only name very few other taverns and alehouses that could hold him for more than half an hour. Beside the grandest tavern in the Imperial Capital and the Dwarven’s Price in the Mobile Fortress, the only place he could stay for a night was a place called Drown Man’s Drink…. That was a unique experience, now that Gargan thought about it.

 

Gargan didn't know how long he had been drinking. It must have been more than a dozen different drinks, as he has started to feel tipsy and his view has started to blur. An earlier conversation to some little fae folk about flammable objects has turned his brain into mushes. Whoever could survive more than 10 minute after the first initial contact with that one is a saint....

 

"Master! How 'bout we bring out some of that Dragon Beard?" Gargan flagged down the barkeep, who seemed to be occupied by a rather small lady next to him. She looks familiar, especially her purple hair. It was quite striking. He hasn't seen anyone with that color for hair before.

 

"Dragon Beard, coming right up!" The keep repeated, and disappeared to the back.

 

Turning to the lady next to him, Gargan began to study her in more detail, as her hair’s color started to remind him of someone he once knew. Purple wasn’t a rare color for hair or fur back in his old realm, but this lady here is the first one he sees here, on Sky Archipelago, and it has caught his eyes.

 

The lady was….small? No, not small, but child-ish. Her bubbled and round faces, her cute pair of twinkled eyes, and her flawless skin totally contradicted her surroundings, an old and historic tavern, full with sweaty and drunken men, blabbering and arguing about some nonsense.

 

No, this lady should be at a ball, dancing with her carefully chosen partner, and only drink the best, the most gentle of champagne, and dance to the beautiful sound of the violin. Yet, her action and behavior seem to betray all of that.

 

She wasn’t quite barbaric, per say, nor is she well versed in tavern etiquette. She seems lost, almost not knowing the rule of this place, and fumbling to get herself a drink.

 

Suddenly, the young lady turned toward him and called, “Papa! The bartender is being mean! He won’t let me have a drink!” She cried, and then demanded, “Buy me something!” She added a little pout.

 

"Huh?" He let out a yelp, not sure what was going on. "Are you sure you are....not....mistaken?" Certainly, he may have a flings or two, but they can't be here, much less with a kid of his. Although he couldn't be sure.

 

"Wait....." He called out, and realized the look of the young lady. He has seen that before, the look of (not so) desperate pleading. This one here is trying to buy some alcohol, underaged! They are realm-niversal! Minors lying to get drunk! Well, he couldn't really blame them, as nothing is better than a cold ale after diving out of some dusty ruins, or after escaping the tomb’s guardians.

 

If he was sober, then Gargan would certainly try to stop the young lady, but at his current state? She looks more like a drinking partner! And nothing is sadder than drinking alone. Having such a pretty lady as his drinking company is almost certainly always welcome

 

"Ah.....I see....." He murmured, decided to play along with her. "How are you here? Also getting caught up by the Worldshift?" He said loudly, as the barkeep returned with his drink. "Master, another one here, this girl too!"

 

The girl spun around in her stool, n and inches even closer to Gargan. “The Worldshift was horrible, Papa!’ She chirped, “I fell out of the sky and I saw some bad people killing slimes... it was completely unforgivable... How can there be such evil murderers?"

 

“For her?” He blinked confusedly, and asked. “I’m sorry, she is a minor, and as per establishment rule, we can’t serve her without parental supervision.”

 

“You got mine permission. That one’s an Otherworlder too. One of my spawn…..” If he was sober, Gargan would cringe so hard, his feathers would fall off. But atlas, he isn’t. “Her mama’s a half-elf, so she looks young for her age.”

 

“Are you sure, sir?” The barkeep asked, suspiciously. “I mean, she looks nothing like you.”

 

“Of course she didn’t. She was adopted! I’m too young to have a kid this large. Or this humanoid looking. My kind lay eggs." Gargan denied, somewhat contradicting his earlier statement. "The bastard ran away when he heard her mama's pregnant. She is a friend of mine, so I ended up adopting this little one too. I have owned her mama my life once, so the most I could do is be her godfather."

 

"..." The barkeep still didn't believe him, but couldn't find a way to refute the birdman's claim. He certainly didn’t want to get into an argument with a drunk man….bird, without at least some bases. For all he knows, the birdman could be speaking the truth, as there were many mysterious and strange things there Otherworlders have brought up, and brought to Sky Archipelago.

 

"I can vow for her," Gargan said, sliding a couple silvers across the counter. "So, let's get something light for her, please?" Nothing couldn’t be solved with some coins, Gargan has learned, and he was certain that this also applied to this floating chain of islands too.

 

"...If you said so," He relented, and pocketed the loose silver. If anything happened, he could always tell the guard later, and played the victim card....

 

The barkeep placed down two cups of Dragon Beard, and retreated to another corner of the bars, preferring to entertain another one of his guests. He could practically smell trouble brewing up from those two, and he rather not be anywhere near their proximity.

 

Soon the avian turned to the young lady, and the conversion somehow took a strange turn about some jelly-like creatures in her hand. She called it a slime, but Gargan had never seen anything like that before. It reminds him of something similar, however, something that he happens to have a chance of tasting, a dessert called Royal Jelly by a retired Imperial Cook. It was….fine? It wasn’t bad, he remembered it, but it still wasn’t anything special to him. Maybe his aarakocra taste bulbs are different from a man’s taste bulb?

 

And, then, the lady somehow gets confused by Gargan’s strange….stories. Making things up on the spot isn’t his strongest suit, but with alcohol, he didn’t even hesitate to cook something up.

 

"I was... a-adopted...? Why didn't I know? "She sounded shocked for some reason, "We have the same color eyes! And both of us can fly!! Obviously the two of us are related."

 

She seized Gargan's arms tightly and turned towards the bartender, "See! Both of us look totally alike!" She said confidently, clinging to his arm. Gargan had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t respond to it. The bartender just gave the pair side glances, and sighs. Trouble is definitely brewing there, as he saw a tall, towering man slowly staggering toward them from his table. 

 

The barkeep recognized the man, as there aren’t many that have such silvery hair with a nice, blue sheen around. And his silvery blue set of disheval armor, too, make his identity even clearer. He is the son of the talk of the town recently, and one famous and very capable adventurer as well as a knight under his father’s elite retinue, Sir Gawrgaru, Knight of Hammerheads, heir to Duke Grogar, the man that is heading the Militant Factions of the High Court.