[Tavern ] Tattered Sails, New Beginning (open)

[Uta O'Fuarain]

15 Ponitus, Era XIV PF

Uta clambered down from the ship, she had nothing to encumber her. No luggage, no bags, and no past, most especially no past. She walked away from the ship and up the pier, smelling the rot of the docks that seemed to sit heavy in docks everywhere. It took the purity of the sea are and turned it rancid and putrid, dry land did.

She strode along with a glare on her face. She was dressed simply, black pants and boots, a gray cloak to keep off the chill and a blue shirt. All were well worn and had seen better days. As she looked around the docks it was apparent that this had all seen better days as well.

She approached a dark brown building with a formidable door and a sign that said "Tattered Sails Tavern". It was a likely sounding name. As good as any other and as such would do for a drink.

She entered the tavern and paused while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Seeing the bar she approached the bar tender and request an ale, paying and then taking a seat where she could see the rest of the bar. She could have a drink and think about what to do next. She hadn't been planning very far in advance and she had reached the bounderies of her planning.

[Uta O'Fuarain]

Uta sat and placed her pint on the table. Leaning back in her chair she put her feet up on the chair opposite her and looked about the bar. It was dark. The people were what one would expect in a tavern like this.

She picked up her mug and took a long drink. The journey from Prime had seemed longer than it had been. They had worked every silver out of her passage agreement. She had been glad to get off of the "merchant" ship she had worked on to get the passage out of Prime. The seas had been fine, but too many of her shipmates had gotten a different idea of what "working for passage" had meant. More than one had a wound to show for the misunderstanding. A deeper scowl crept over her face as she recalled the journey.

[Uta O'Fuarain]

She took another deep drink at the thought of the Journey itself. The sea. It had mostly been a kind journey on the Sea's part. Mostly. Early in the voyage they had the one spot of bad weather that they would have for the rest of the trip, but it had been bad. She recalled the sounds of thunder and the creaking and groaning of the ship's timbers. The sound of retching from the crew and the memory of her own revisited meals. She hadn't been able to keep anything down for the better part of that storm, as the ship rose and fell and got tossed around like a child's toy. The seas loomed over the side and smashed down with a violence that made one a believer in the Gods if nothing else did. There was an anger in that storm and it soothed her, in a way. It was like seeing a familiar old friend and knowing you weren't alone.