A Tavern Scene (Event)

Welcome to Luca, home of the Blitzball Stadium and untold thousands of Spirans trying to live their lives one day at a time in the Eternal Calm.

But somehow, Calm things don't always stay that way… or do they?

Off the edge of a busy street is a tavern. A simple place where people gather to enjoy good food, good drink, and good entertainment in the form of a screen above the bar that shows the current blitzball games, should they be playing. It is also a place where people sometimes go to find a table where they might do other things.

At a round table off to the side there are papers scattered across the top, some of them held down by an empty mug. Sitting at the chair beside them, and deeply immersed in the reading of said papers, is a fiery-furred person with a singularly feline face. He has a pair of small round spectacles perched on the top of his nose (or would it be a muzzle… in any event…) and he wears a long coat of some sort. He is, in fact, a Moomba, though what a Moomba is doing in Spira, much less Luca… well, that is yet to be seen.

A group of teenage males are gathered around another table, speaking loudly to each other and bragging about exploits that are, likely, exaggerated or outright fabrications. Still, they are armed and they are flexing muscles in the way that teenage males are sometimes known to do. The apparent leader is shorter than his fellows, though he seems to make up for what he lacks in height with sheer aggressiveness.

Into this tavern enters a family on holiday. Their clothing is decidedly not Spiran in cut or quality. They wear the tunics and gowns of natives to Cornelia, a royal city on the World of One. The matron of the family is busy keeping her two children, a boy of some dozen years and a girl of a few years more than that, from running off or getting into trouble. The pater familis is looking around at the building and loudly proclaiming how fascinating it is.

He is plainly unaware that his daughter has noticed the boys, or that the boys have noticed him and sneered in disgust.

In the back of the tavern, in a shadowed corner, a man in a cloak sits at a table with a pipe and simply watches the exchange. What his origin could be or his interest in this place at this time is unknown and unknowable given where he sits and how he does nothing but simply watch all that goes on around him.

And so attention turns to the unknown quantity in this little event. Everything sits in place, waiting for the arrival of the guest, or guests, of honor… and the choices that will be made. Ripples in a pond, after all, require the casting of a stone.

It was a rather lovely day in Luca. Garet had spent most of the early day in Luca's Sphere Theatre, a place of marvels. On his travels, he had always enjoyed music. Whether it was the silent chants of the Guado, or the cheery sounds from musicians around the forest of Macalania, or perhaps the drummings of the Ronso, music was a very soothing factor, or one that would make you sit on the edge waiting for events to happen.

After having comfortably listen to some of his favorite spheres, Garet Arthur decided to watch one game of blitz (or two) before departing for Kilika and Besaid. However, he wasn't in for a stadium bench today. He remembered, there were enough options. Taverns, for instance.

As he slowly made his way towards the tavern, Garet looked around. There were a lot of people today. Even weirder, enough of them were not...well...from Spira. Garet smiled idly at the thought of time passing him by. There were more worlds? Apparently so. He would have contact with these soon enough, or not at all if life wouldn't change. Didn't all these other worlds have Blitzball? That would make one big league...

Garet nodded at a few of the other elderly men and women. They too, seemed surprised at all the new people coming in and out of Luca. None of them were as mobile as Garet though, age had caught them in it's cold grasp and wouldn't let them go anymore. Still, they must have had good lives, relatively speaking. Sin had haunted their dreams for decades, if not more, but they could hear the birds sing now that he was gone.

Garet decided to pick that one tavern close by, he did not feel traversing much more busy streets. He opened the door, and had a quick glance through the room, before moving up to the bar and ordering some soda. A promising refreshment on such a busy day. he moved his sword nect to his bar stool so nobody would be hindered by it, or stumble over it. He placed his crossbow over the blade's hilt, having it hang over the sword.

He did not expect any trouble today, but one would never underestimate a rather busy tavern on such a crowded day. Those youngsters a bit to the side were quite the type for any kind of annoying behaviour. Garet shook his head, this was no moment to be paranoid. this was a moment for Blitzball.

As he paid for his soda and took a sip, he looked up at one of the screens. There were some rather promising match-ups today..

Ahhh… and thus enters the first of, hopefully, several who will shower their influence on this place. Though in this place and time, influence can have… a larger effect than expected. The stone is cast towards Blitzball, and so the ripples expand outwards from that.

The waitress who walks over to deliver the beverage which Garet had ordered is a sweet-faced young woman with dark hair. Along with the drink she brings a list of the day's match ups. The next game is scheduled to be the Luca Goers against the AlBhed Psyches.

A fanfare is heard from the screen as the players take their positions in the Sphere Pool and the sound of it attracts the attention of the paternal tourist who looks up at the screen, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "What… what is that?" His voice is disruptively loud and jarring.

The waitress smiles at him and offers a game schedule to look over. "It's Blitzball, a popular sport 'round these parts."

The man's eyes seem to protrude slightly in his complete disbelief. "What magic is this to make a painting move in such a way? And look so real…"

The waitress laughs gently. She takes no offense at his disbelief, but thinks of it as a child's wonder at seeing some common miracle that is amazing simply for being new. "Oh, that's no magic. That's a screen. It's showing the game from the stadium down the way."

The teenage boys rather visibly roll their eyes in disgust, the ringleader muttering invectives in a voice not-quite-too-low-to-hear. "Damned idiot outworlders… oughta toss 'em all back to where they came from…"

By this time, Fury had already been in the bar for about an hour or so. He sat at one end of the bar nursing a glass of bourbon and a cigar. He had been sent to Spira to capture another fugitive who thought he would just blend right in with the locals there and never get caught. It might have worked too if he had the brains to change out of his clothes from the Seventh World. Spirans don't really wear the same clothing and they certainly don't use materia. He had tracked the man down to an abandoned house out on the waters near Luca and had no trouble forcing the man to submit once he had shot a bullet through his knee. He had completed that action well ahead of schedule so now he sat in the bar by himself drinking away his time until Dusty and the crew showed up in the Kestrel to pick the man up.

Fury leaned back in his chair and kicked the squirming body-bag that was on the ground next to him before flicking the lit cigar into the small hole he left at the top for air. There was a sharp squeak and the bag started squirming like crazy again. Fury chuckled and said to the bag, "Causing a scene isn't going to help your situation, Mr. Samyan. Actually, it will only get you more hurt." Fury delivered another swift kick to the bag and it stopped moving.

He leaned back in his chair and watched the tavern over the rim of his glass as he drank. He watched the fairly attractive bar-maids happily move from table to table assisting the patrons where they could. There was a table of riff-raff, though, who seemed like they weren't even old enough to grow beards yet. They were stirring trouble with a few of the waitresses and other patrons, but Fury kept his mouth shut. It was not his place to say anything. Then his eyes fell on a sight he didn't think he would ever see. A moomba in a world other than the eighth one. This one was acting strangely, though. All the moombas Fury had ever seen didn't wear clothes or read books. Fury was about to get up to talk to him when a family of outworlders walked in. Fury couldn't tell what world they were from, but he could tell they definitely didn't fit in. Fury watched them for a moment before slowly sitting back down just as the older man wearing an impressive suit of armor walked in and sat down at the bar.

Fury shook himself from the stupor and chained the body-bag to the bar before starting to walk back over towards the moomba-man. He made it about halfway there when he heard the comment about off-worlders from the table with the little thugs. He stopped mid step and wheeled around to face them. he took about two steps and he was right at their table. He drew out his knife and pinned it in the wooden table before letting out a hearty laugh and saying, HAHAHA! You're right! Off-worlders are all idiots!!! The fact that they let them keep their weapons when they come to your world is just plain stupid," Fury pulled the knife from the table and toyed with the blade in full view of the boys, "I mean, some of those people are dangerous..."

Jayda Kinneas was always up for visiting other places, be it new towns or cities in her own world, or taking in the rich sights and cultures of other worlds. Spira was one of her most favorite planets, having quite the vibrant array of people and other races, as well as so many new and different customs to discover. It was one of those random visits from her straining work at the Gardens from her own home world that led the petite gunner girl to Spira for a brief reprieve. And Luca was absolutely perfect during Blitzball season!


Now, Jayda was the optimistic bubbly sort. At first glance, one would easily presume she was nothing more than a simple little country girl with her frayed yellow shorts, basic white tank top, a long, tattered duster vest that may have been red when new, but was now a more faded grungy looking crimson color that hung longer than she was tall for it's shredded ends to drag playfully across the ground behind her as her worn out, muddy cowboy boots clunked against the floor as she walked in. Well..... more like danced into the establishment. And in doing so, her exceptionally long auburn hair was bouncing about behind her and over her shoulders, nearly nudging her beaten cowboy hat over the rim of her eyes.


When one is so engrossed to the music they're listening to jamming into their ears, sometimes the light hearted sort just dance no matter where they stumble into. And Jayda was indeed a most light hearted person who had a magnetism for usually bringing cheer into a room. So as her feet shuffled and tapped against the floor as she walked and her body shimmied a bit with her gait, she was also unknowingly humming, or spouting out a random verse to "Pokerface" as she ventured further into the bar without a care in the world of any stares she was receiving.


It wasn't until Jayda gave a random passing glance to find a place to sit that she noticed a familiar face and lit up with complete shock while shouting Fury's name due to the music still blaring in her ears and gave him an excited wave as she approached him. Luckily for Fury's ears, Jayda thought to pop out one of her earphones out so she wasn't shouting anymore. "Whay slap a chocobo and call meh a moomba! Yer the last I ev'r 'spected tah see at Blitzball lounge, Mr. Fury! Now iffin' yews always been a fan an' nv'r told meh, Ah'mma gonna be sorely hurt!" She chuckled as she fumbled with her music device clipped to her gun belt, then took notice of the company around him. "Sew these 'ere be yer friends, or sumthin?" Her head tilted as she studied each young man closely with a sudden befuddled look in her bright hazel eyes before leaning close to Fury with a serious tone of concern in her whisper. "Yer kinda takin' recruits a bit tew yung, ain'tcha, Fury?"

(I do sincerely apologize for my lack of punctuality in responding to this Event. It is a sad occurrence, but that demonic Real Life does have a tendency to intrude on even the most entertaining of fictions. I do beg the forgiveness of all involved.)

The ringleader of this group of juvenile delinquents puffed up his chest at the obvious challenge by the man sitting at the bar. "Oh? You wanna start somethin' outworlder?" He spat the term like it was a piece of filth. His companions, chuckled and egged him on… all but one.

The tallest of the group, a thin young man with a rather feminine cast to his features, bit his lip nervously. "Uhm.. MadDog… he's got a bodybag at his feet."

The ringleader, short punk that he was, simply glared at him. "Knuckles, if you don't pipe down I'll make you cry like the little girl you are. I ain't scared of no damn outworlder!" He turned back to the man at the counter. Youth is wasted on the young, truly.

The entrance of the sweet-faced young woman, though, caught the attention of the individual sitting at the table with his paper work. Anyone could sense the confrontation simmering in the center of the room, even the family of tourists. The mother grabbed her son and pulled him back even as she hissed at her daughter, who was spending far too much time eyeing the feminine-looking young man who seemed to have better powers of observation than his erstwhile allies. The father simply looked confused at the ire from the boys, but he was distinctly unnerved by the man who distracted their attention.

The red-furred creature slid off his chair and walked over to take the cowgirl's hand in his paws, attempting to gently lead her away from the center of the room. "Pardon me, miss… but I believe that you are in the middle of a very dangerous situation at the moment. Would you care to sit with me? Out of the direct line of fire, perhaps?"

The youngest of the punks turned to look at the scholarly Moomba with bulging eyes as he noticed the creature for the first time. "What in the hell? When'd they let talking DOGS parade like people in respectable places like this used to be? I thought only people were allowed here."

Oh dear, this seems to be the beginning of a very unfortunate circumstance.

((OOC: *squeals while running in* MustpostbeforeFuryblowseveryoneup!!!! *giggles*))


Before Fury had a chance to remark on Jayda's words, she found herself remarkably surprised by another patron who approached her. Moombas she knew from being of the same home world, but to hear one speak English so fluently was never heard of before! She blinked a few times in momentary shock as his soft paws took her hands in his own and spoke with such respectable manners, as well as trying to guide her from harm's way. "May Hyne smack meh down with a tail an' sum ears!" She whispered in complete awe. "A travelin' talkin' Moomba! Well ain'tchu an adorable sight! Why the Shumi's back home will jus' beh delighted tah hear...." Then..... someone just had to slam their arrogant foot into their chauvinistic mouth.


It began with a very slow intake of breath.... Then followed by her head turning very slowly toward the source of words as Jayda's entire facial expression fell into an unpleasant deadpan look upon the young man who dared to insult a moomba in the presence of a Beastmaster, and one being said Jayda Kinneas.... The tension rose so thick and so quickly, one could choke from its presence within the air. And knowing Fury like she did, Jayda calmly placed a single hand upon his chest as her silent signal that she was going to handle this in her own way while keeping her gaze locked with the boy the entire time. With a slight tilt to her head and the sweetest voice she could muster, she acknowledged the little swine. ".....Dawg?....Did I hear you correctly, little man?....Dawg?"


Suddenly, a bright smile appeared over Jayda's face as she leaned into the boy's face and continued speaking calmly with her sweet demeanor, which happened to hide the inner rage boiling through her veins. NO ONE man-handled any form of creature in Jayda's presence, nor did she ever stand for verbal abuse against defenseless creatures. "Allow meh tah edee-cate yew, mah dear boy...." And just as quickly as a light switch is flipped, Jayda's hand swung and gripped into the young man's groin with such force he buckled forward with a loud "OOF!" This was where Jayda knew damn well Fury had her back, so she had no concern over the other boys in his company trying to make any moves.


Now that she had the lad's attention, her sweet naturedness continued as her other hand politely pointed to the Moomba. "That thar be ah Moomba, not a dawg.... Moombas! are of the feline nature, not the canine.... an' that thar Moomba speaks with far more intellect than yew gawt in yer wee lil' finger....." By the last few words growled through her clenched teeth, Jayda's expression had slowly changed to one very seriously tict off woman. And his future of ever having children in his life was at stake by whatever words were to follow out his mouth.

"Curse the sun," a very hungover Melanie grumbled to herself as she shuffled along the path. "Curse that samurai, too..." she growled, rubbing her temples. She pulled a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses from a pocket on her belt, only to fumble them. "And c-curse these stupid sunglasses!" Awkwardly, she tried to bend over and pick them up, but succeeded only in falling face-first into the ground. Oh, it was gonna be a long day.

In celebration of making it to Luca, the samurai Melanie had been traveling with had proposed they stop for a drink. Mel was underaged, but that'd never stopped her before. So of course, one drink turned to two, turned to three, turned to nine. When she woke up, Melanie found herself facedown in a gutter, completely cast off by her samurai friend. Swell. At least he'd only taken her gil, and not anything important, Mel mused.

Picking herself back up and putting her sunglasses on, Mel noticed a blitzball game being broadcast outside of a bar. "Oh, that's right... there's games today," Mel realized. Well, that explained the noise. With all the excitement, she'd probably never catch her Samurai. She hissed a swear, but was distracted from her anger when her stomach grumbled. The pink-haired youth decided 'vengeance later, food now' and was on her way to a bar when she realized that she had no money to pay for her meal. Since she was above such things as actually working, and she'd left her gaff deck in the party inventory before the samurai had dumped her, she decided her options were stealing, or convincing someone to pay of her. Reminding herself she was totally hungover and subsequently not going to be a very good pickpocket, she decided on the latter option. Trying to straighten the unholy mess that was her tangled hair, she headed towards the nearest tavern, hoping there'd be some macho man or bleeding heart, anyone who wouldn't mind paying a pretty girl's way to food.

Taking a deep breath to puff her chest out, she stepped through the doors to find a tense scene. "Yup," Melanie thought, "this is pretty counterproductive to getting food." But something kept her from leaving. Some sense of adventure, or at the very least, entertainment. Her stomach growled angrily, demanding attention. "Yeah, yeah, later. Right now, knife-bro."

She wasn't quite sure how things would play out. On one hand, knife-guy had a body bag. And a knife. And looked like he knew how to use it. "I think I'll call him Steve," Melanie thought to herself. There was a lady with a weird accent with him, too. She looked like she knew how to handle herself, and she wasn't shy about it, either. "She definitely seems like a Jessie," Melanie confirmed. On the other hand, there were several youths, and they looked decently armed, so the power of numbers were on their side. "Testosterone," Melanie concluded "is definitely going for them."

"Whoever wins, at the very least it won't be boring. Hell, if someone dies, maybe everyone will shut up long enough for my headache to go away," Mel decided as she took a seat at the bar. "Yes, I'll have a drink, please. Courtesy of whoever loses." She guestured toward the scene.

Fury's eyebrow raised as the ringleader shot him a quick line and spat at his feet. His lips pressed into a hard line, restraining himself from doing something completely rash and unnecessary. He had grown up around children like these. They were most likely orphans, everyone of them. That or they had problems with mommy and daddy. They acted out to grab attention and their only true views are the ones they picked up from adults around them. He had beaten and been beaten up by enough of those types of kids in his youth to actually want to start something here.

His eyes slowly turned towards the taller kid of the group. That was who he was checking for. That one was the one who was only there because he had no where else to go. He actually had a head on his shoulders that he might not loose if it wasn't bolted on. The kid would be the one to break first, and he may be able to convince the others to leave with him. Unlike the ringleader...

"Listen to your friend, Dog. Can I call you dog? It doesn't matter. Listen, I'm guessing you and your little friends have caused quite a bit of trouble in this town. So I'm also guessing that most of these people really don't like you. If it was any other way, someone would have stopped me by now. Now you have a very special question you have to ask yourself. You have to ask yourse-"

Fury cringed as he heard his name screamed from only feet away. He looked away from the table to see Jayda rush over to him and take her headphones out. She greeted him with her usual enthusiasm, completely undermining all the fear he had already distilled into the boys at the table. He opened his mouth to respond when the moomba he had seen at the table in the corner came over to pull Jayda away. He had never been so relieved to see someone pull Jayda away from him.

Until the twerp opened his mouth again, that is.

Fury let out a long "oh shyt" whistle that filled the silence between when he said it and when Jayda turned around. He didn't need Jayda to place her hand on his chest to know to stay the hell out of her way. There were very few things that truly pissed Jayda off and mistreatment of animals was one of them. He silently stood behind her as she spoke softly to the one called Maddog.

The entire groupd lurched forward as she grabbed the boy's groin and squeezed. Just as she did so, Fury tilted his head and raised both his eyebrows at the others while he shook the knife in their direction in a scolding manner. He shook his head side to side before sheathing his knife and crouching by the body bag. He looked to the moomba and said, "Can you give me a hand with this?"

The moomba nodded and then slowly unzipped the body bag. The moomba had barely gotten down to where the man's neck was when his head burst out of the bag in an attempt to scream. Before his lungs were fully full, though, Fury punched him square in the nose, knocking him back unconscious. He reached down inside the bag and rummaged around for a bit as Jayda spoke to the boy. Finally, his hand grabbed what he was looking for and he pulled it out. He slowly unfolded several more body bags on the ground, one for each of the boys. When the last one was unfolded, he stood back up and looked at the group with a deadpan look on his face...

The bartender smiles at the obviously hung-over new arrival, sliding her an oddly-colored composition in a tall glass. "My patented hangover remedy, youngster," he chuckles at her, "I'll add it to the tab I'm running for the loudmouth with the silver spoon over there. His dad's good for his shenanigans."

The aforementioned "silver spoon" is currently bent in half, hoping that Jayda didn't squeeze him any harder than she already was. He is, at heart, as much a coward and a blowhard as the rest of his erstwhile friends, but he is still merely a child.

He stammers something that he hopes sounds like an apology. His little used brain is scrambling for some means out of this complicated mess that he has, somehow, found himself in.

Fury's theatrical addition to the matter, though, does nothing to calm the alpha of the gang, much to the distress of the tall young man who tries, in vain, to speak reason in light of the much more threatening Offworlder.

For his part, the bespectacled Moomba is glad enough to assist, though he is plainly caught by surprise by the maternal defense that Jayda raised. He looks at Fury and straightens his glasses. "I must admit that I find myself feeling quite awkward. Is she this maternal over all small beings or is it just me?"

It is at just that moment that the doorway is shadowed by the arrival of several uniformed officers of the Lucan peacekeeping force. The leader of the small contingent nods to the bartender, who nods back having summoned them through the discreet pressing of a button under the counter at the first sign of conflict. The captain then looks around the room.

"What seems to be the problem?"

Jayda eyed the young man suspiciously as he squeaked out his feeble apologies before she saw another patron casually walk into the establishment looking dreadfully tired. Still minding her manners, Jayda gave the young woman a bright cheerful smile and a friendly wave with her free hand before returning her attention back to the juvenile at "hand", and with her previous scowl etched across her brow again.


She didn't have time to say another word yet because her vision caught sight of the Moomba and Fury pulling out multiple body bags and placing them upon the floor to be seen by the group of verbal trouble makers. When she saw the ghost white expressions fall over their faces, she began breaking into laughter which caused her grip to instinctively tighten against the young man which then caused him to let out a pitiful shriek. "Whay yer just always prepared fer a pahrty, aint'cha Fury!"


The amusement was short lived, though. Within seconds, the local authorities arrived and looked none too pleased by what they were witnessing transpire within the pub. Jayda shifted her gaze around and knew something needed said swiftly before things got out of hand, or anyone getting arrested. She didn't even feel it was necessary for the young punks to have any legal troubles simply for being ignorant and arrogant. They just needed a little eye opener, and Jayda was pretty satisfied they got it. So she released the young man she had in her grip and gave him a couple of hearty pats against the back before cheerfully approaching the Lucan authorities with a bright eyed smile and a respectable tip of her hat. "Whay, hey'all!" She extended her hand in a peaceful manner as her other reached into her pocket. The move made them uneasy and grab for their own weapons, but she waved them off with a giggle. "Now, now....don' beh gettin' yer britches all up innah bind, Jus' grabbin' mah identific-ayshun..."


Finally, Jayda found the wallet casing to her SeeD ID which also had her brand new "badass group" patch Fury had made up for her just for shits and giggles. She flashed the ID like she saw other peacekeepers, or lawmen do, then slapped it closed quickly as she dived into her rambling speech. "Jayda Kinneas with the Advanced Species Protocol Control Association. Glad tah make yer acquaintances!" She shook each guard's hands eagerly as she continued speaking. "Seems we had 'ere ah bit o' species discrepancy, sirs. Now us folks down at the ASPCA have ah protocol o' our own tah put ah stompin' tew ah sitch-ee-ayshun bahfor it geyts outta hand, where then yew fine men won't have tah waste yer precious tyme away from more 'portant matters! Seems these boys had an inklin' tew being quite hostile bout Moombas, an' well, the ASPCA bein' ah universal organization, we jus' frown on that when thar beh no lee-git reasons fer bein' downright ign'rent tah the poor lil' critter jus' tryin' tah enjoy his tea! Sew Ah jus' stepped in a lil tah show these young fyne boys ah bit of common sense manners!"


Jayda turned herself around so the young men could now see her more serious look as her gaze shifted to them, then to body bags, then back to each of their faces. "Ain't that righ' boys? Yew 'membered yer manners yer mommas taught ya, now didn' yah?"