Coming downstairs from the loft with Violet, Thorley pauses at the door, pressing an affectionate kiss to the woman's cheek and squeezing her tightly to him before they part ways, so she can remain behind.

The door swings open, a large frame fills the door, and in (almost in a stomp) comes the familiar face of Brogan. He doesn't look around, just heads straight to the bar, and orders a bottle of whiskey. One drink, two drinks, three drinks, and the big Northman pauses for a breath. He lets out a loooonnngggg breath, shakes his head, and begins to pour a fourth drink in short order.

Vald arrives, following Sina.

"Oh, good." Sigurd's eyes watch Brogan's quick steps and his sidle up to the bar. And doesn't call to him. "This promises to move into being a foul night...."

Violet turns her cheek to steal the kiss on the lips, returning the hug, before Thorley leaves. Her hands lingers in his till their reach parts it. Then there is a Brogan just as Thorley leaves. "Well, if it isn't you!" She says with a chuckle even as her eyes watch the door close behind the leaving knight.

Echo wanders downstairs after Violet and Thorley and - Oh look, /everyone/ is here. She grins wide and waves out. "Hey everyone! What is... Is it always this busy in the Murder?" The knight princess inclines her head towards Thorley. "Be safe. Gods be with you."

"I will. Keep the gossip to a minimum." Thorley grins, and as he slips away from Violet, he gives the Princess's shoulder a fond squeeze and a polite bow of his head before he heads off.

Zaina looks over at Brogan and then back to Sigurd. She murmurs something low at the table they share, sitting side by side. She looks up again an waves to Echo.

Acacia glances up form her quiet chat with Duarte to watch the room fill with familiar faces. "Seems we have fond where the party is tonight," she winks to Duarte, turning to smile brightly at Brogan as he arrives and then to Echo, Violet and Sina.

Sina heard there was some kinda party going on at the Murder of Crows, and since she's in the area, decides to stop in on her way back up from the beach, still carrying her basket full of shells she had collected. The slender handmaiden pauses a few steps into the room, glancing around curiously with those silver eyes of hers. She noticies, and recognizes likely, Zaina and offers her fellow handmaiden a smile. She doesn't recognize anyone else right away, but she smiles at Acacia when she sees the smile directed her way. She is a quiet girl, not speaking much unless spoken to, but she does make her way through toward the bar.

At the familiar voice, Brogan casts a look over his shoulder at Violet, gives a grunt in response and then the fourth whiskey is disappears. Hello number five!! He twists his head from left to right, a few loud *CRACKS* are heard from his neck with the motion, and another deep breath follows an equally long exhale. The Northman, still facing the bar, doesn't seem to notice any looks cast in his direction, especially since his eyes are closed as he quickly downs the fifth glass.

Zaina looks up at the sound of the door opening, and the Eurusi woman nods at Sina. She shrugs at something Sigurd says and responds softly.

Violet frowns suddenly at Brogan's lack of usual cheer. She walks up to the bar and watches him shoot back a fifth whiskey. "Is something the matter, Lord Brogan?" She asks with genuine concern in her voice.

Duarte stands and lifts his glass. He loudly clears his throat and proclaims to all present: "As the fine Bravuran tradition goes! Anyone whose birthday it is claims such, and thus all present are thereforth attendees to said party in celebration! And..." he must make this stuff up as he goes. Does Bravura even exist? "...drink tabs are covered by the person whose birthday is pronounced. So welcome, all, to my birthday celebration on this fine evening. Hosted in honor of the Bravuran tradition of birthdays!"

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Echo before departing.

Zaina looks up and peers at Duarte above the edge of her veil. "Is it now," she drawls quietly. "Well. Happy birthday." And then she looks back at Sigurd and her conversation.

"The violence comes after the drinking.." Soft murmurd to his table companion. "Leave him be, Violet." Sigurd calls from across the tavern, sitting at a table with Zaina. A cheer is raised from Sigurd at an almost demure volume. "Happys of birth days to you."

Following close behind Violet, Echo drapes a hand on the other woman's should as she leans in to share a whisper with the sellsword. After departing, she lifts a brow at Duarte's proclamation. "Happy birthday. I wouldn't mind having a drink or t --" Another missive is slipped into her hands and she goes quiet.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Echo before departing.

Sina inclines her head to Zaina, then makes it to the bar, and as Duarte stands up to announce it's his birthday celebration, she studies the man curiously from beneath her dark lashes. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips as he claims to be covering the drinks. "Happy birthday, my lord," she says in a polite and eloquent way of speaking, dipping a curtsey toward him with a gathering of her black skirts in delicate fingers. "What a generous tradition." She then pushes her long black braid over her shoulder so that it swings down her back with a tinkling of ornaments woven into it, and turns to the barkeep to order a drink. She perches herself on a stool then, and sets her basket on the bar counter while she awaits her drink.

Zaina mms quietly at Sigurd and then she looks at Violet to see what happens next.

The curvy redhead gives Duarte a grin and raises her glass, "A fine year ahead, my Count. May it be filled with the best of thing," Acacia offers taking a little sip of her drink, large dark honey-brown eyes dancing with mirth. Glancing over the smile turns slightly as Brogan's demeanor is noted. There is a little bite of her bottom lip and she looks thoughtful.

In response to Duarte, the Northman raises the Whiskey Bottle that is quickly disappearing, "Best wishes to you, friend Duarte..." Brogan rumbles, a small attempt at a smile made, and then he's looking at Violet as she walks over. Before he answers, he hears the voice of Sigurd, a grin very different than his normal appears as he begins to pour a sixth, "Lass, rule number one. No Lord's when I'm drinkin'..." he takes another long breath, his eyes moving from the bottle to her, "Thanks for your concern. I won't be good company tonight. Thought I'd come somewhere I could get drunk and get in a fight..." He glances back at Duarte, "I'll wait 'till he leaves, and not ruin his night..." he nods in the direction of his table, "Go on, Lass. Best find a better group." and a sixth drink is gone in such a manner he probably didn't even taste it.

Violet leans in to listen to what Echo and then grins and chuckles at whatever she says, head nodding a bit. She says something quietly before shooting Brogan another worried look. "Well, if you need anything let me know, I won't press. But drinking alone, gloomy or no, simply leads to more gloom," THis is directed at Brogan as gestures towards Sigurd's table. "Shall we?" And she grins at Duarte, "Happy Birthing day, then, to you!" She doesn't have a drink yet, so she stops to order rum. It's what she wanted earlier after all.

Echo looks at the missive that was just delivered and furrows her brows. "Huh." She wrinkled her nose before moving away from Violet's side, folding her arms over the back of Brogan's chair. "I'll let you try to enjoy yourself, but if you ever need to talk let me know!" Straightening herself out and glancing around the room, the knight-princess said, "Anyways. I should be heading on out. Try to enjoy yourself!"

The Nortman offers Violet a small nod in thanks, nodding in Sigurd's direction, "Nah, go on, Violet." His tone is far from harsh, but there's a strength of conviction there that he means to drink alone and get into a fight.. or two or three... "Sigurd'll make ya laugh, Lass." and then he turns back to finish off another glass. The aura around him is palpable, he can be heard muttering, "One damn place no one'd be.." As if hearing Brogan's words, a few patrons move away from him at the bar, and find residence elsewhere. One last look to Echo, he rumbles in a deep voice, "Stay Safe, Princess." his words more solemn than usual.

Sina has joined the Crow Bar.

Brogan has joined the Crow Bar.

"Come sit down friends, Violet." Sigurd reachs out and waves Violet towards his table. "Honest to goodness, when he gets like this...its best to just let the horse have its reins and run itself calm again."

Violet has joined the Window Table.

Duarte notes Brogan's demeanor as well. He sets his glass upon his table and provides a brief whisper to Acacia, then crosses the room to the Northman.

Duarte has left the Darkened Booth.

Duarte has joined the Crow Bar.

Sina sips her drink, and sets it down before pulling her basket into her lap. She sifts around in it, pulling out this or that shell she collected earlier, and examines them closely. She glances around occasionally, frowning a little. But she doesn't pry into other people's business. She goes back to sorting her shells, putting the good ones in one pile, and the broken ones in another. Always the quiet one, she doesn't seem to mind being there all by herself.

Acacia watches Duarte join Brogan at the bar. She leaves them to talk, taking a drink and watching Sina sort her shells. "They're pretty. We used to gather them when I was little. Sand dollars and abalone shells were the coin and jewels of our realm," she grins fondly. "Do you know what they all are?" she asks with a little softness in her eyes as she glances over the beach treasures Sina is carefully separating.

Duarte checked charm + empathy at difficulty 15, rolling 10 higher.

Duarte had placed his hand on the shoulder...the humongous shoulder...of Brogan when he arrived at the bar. They exchange words.

Sina uses a slim finger to brush sand away from another one to reveal the sunset shades of pink, peach and gold within it, before setting it in the good pile. She sips her drink again, then ducks her head a little more to her task as Brogan and Duarte chat further down the bar from her. She glances up briefly as Acacia speaks to her, and she smiles softly. "Yes, I know most of them," she says, though her voice can be barely heard over the murmur of voices in the bar, quiet thing that she is. "I am trying to find good ones for a new art project," she explains.

The curvy redhead nods warmly and slips from the booth to take a closer look at the shells. "What project are you hoping to make?" Acacia asks, shifting lightly on her feet and taking a quick but careful glance Brogan and Duarte's way before looking down at the table again.

Brogan doesn't flinch from the touch, but there's a bunching of muscles as the conversation continues at the bar. His gaze does move to Duarte, some words pass with a bit of his normal self, but just as quickly that disappears and he pours two more drinks.

Marius arrives, following Giulio.

Taking note of Brogan, Giulio flashes the man a grin, before walking over to Duarte. Slapping him on the shoulder, he leans in to mock whisper, though he doesn't pretend to hide it carrying. "You still owe me money, my man." But, he slips him something, nonetheless. Whiskey -- and the good stuff. In his other hand he carries an earthenware jug.

As Acacia approaches to inquire about her art project, Sina smiles, and pulls a small pad of paper out of her basket, from underneath the pile of shells and sand. She dusts it off with one hand, and then shows it to Acacia. The drawing on it depicts one of those legendary sea sirens from beneath the waves, said to lure men and ships to their demise with their beguiling song. The mermaid is decorated in a cunningly-placed arrangement of seashells of all varieties, crowning her head over the flowing hair mingled with carefully-drawn seaweed, and then a variety of what must be abalone shells forming an off-the-shoulder garment of skimpy proportions. "It's a general idea, anyway," the handmaiden says with a little laugh. "The finished product may be quite different... but... a sculpture in the works."

A few more words are passed between the Northman and Duarte at the bar, and the conversation seems to take a decent turn. Then, however, after another drink, Brogan breaks the glass in his hand and shouts "SHITE!" and motions for a rag from the bar keep.

Duarte's hand still on Brogan's shoulder. He puts the index finger of his free hand to Giulio's lips to shush him. Like - pressed right up against. Mommy style. He murmurs something at the bar in Brogan's direction.

"On this day, years ago. Redrain lost a beautiful flower of a woman, and a most promising noble." Sigurd raises his voice from his table, with lifted glass. "Maeve Nightgold. To those taken too soon. Uncle. Perhaps this year....with friends, we should grieve. Not fight with strangers?"

Violet glances up at Brogan shouts and there is the sound of breaking glass. She frowns and starts to move, but then stops with a glance at Sigurd. Instead she almost sullenly goes back to her glass of rum, sipping from it in quite, frowny thought. "Ah. I see," SHe murmers, not looking up. Death was always hard.

Sigurd adds, "Lets start the brawling or the crying. I hate waiting."

Someone tosses a wadded up napkin at Sigurd's head in response.

Duarte is suddenly ignored by Giulio as he starts to gauge the situation at hand. He claps Brogan heartily on the shoulder and pours a few splashes of the Southern Thunder. "You know. There's a lot to be said for stories. We can honor our dead and our living alike." There's a look to the Nightgold noble as he raises a drink. "To whose honor, tonight, do we toast -- and speak?"

Acacia looks up at the curse and the sharp sound of breaking glass. She frowns. Turing she offers a little smile to Sina, "I wager it will be a beautiful thing when you're done," she says softly. "I look forward to seeing it if I may. Will you excuse me a moment," she nods once and slowly pads her way to the bar as a nervous looking serving girl cleans up the mess. She gives a nod to Duarte and Giulio and then leans over to whisper something to Brogan.

Sina is looking now, rather openly, toward Brogan, Giulio and Duarte as she hears the sound of glass breaking and a curse. She nods absently to Acacia as the redhead excuses herself, and her brow furrows with worry. But she seems to deem it prudent to continue to mind her own business, so she turns away and puts the drawing back into the basket. She picks up her own drink though and takes another sip from it, licking her lips after and seeming a bit tense. She has not a single weapon on her person if things get ugly, and now she's carefully eyeing the exists. You know, just in case.

As Giulio slaps Brogan on the shoulder he can feel the tenseness in the man, and Brogan's head falls further forward with a small rumble of "Spirits hate me..." and then Sigurd, oh Sigurd, makes his toast, and Brogan's hands clench even tighter. Deep breathes, deep breathes, "Spirits, Lad." the words a harsh whisper as he shakes his head, "Ya 'lways throwin' kindling on the fire..." He takes the drink from Giulio, downing it like the rest, and actually shakes his head at that one. In a very calm and precise response, he tells the man, "Tonight is Duarte's birthday. It is him that should be honored, and celebrated." At the quiet words from Acacia, Brogan closes his eyes again, considering for a moment, "Maybe I need find 'nother place to..." he gives a small humorless chuckle, "...celebrate."

"It's true, my friend." Duarte speaks to Brogan, without detour from his previous statement. "You want to see the scar?" He speaks straight-faced and just a small quirk of his brow upon asking the question.

Zaina reaches up and calmly pulls Sigurd's toasting hand down. Without even looking at it. She murmurs something quietly for his ear alone.

Acacia nods and leans lightly with her back against the bar, one ankle hooked lightly over the other as she silently waits and watches the room, her expression quiet and calm.

Giulio looks to Brogan, shrugging. "Well, gave the Count his gift," Giulio says to Brogan, one brow lofted. "... mayhap a few drinks between folk and friends..." There is a glance from the Lycene to Sigurd, "Might not be amiss?"

Violet cringes a bit at the commentary between Sigurd and Brogan. She finishes off her rum with a toss of her head and then sets it down with a sigh. After a pause she slowly gets to her feet. "I think I am going to go chase down my bed. I have a lot to do the next while and it has been a long day," She says with a boy of her head to Sigurd and Zaina. Moving slowly from the table she pauses at the bar and shoots Brogan a thoughtful glance. Instead she smiles at Duarte. It is wan and could use cheer. "Have a good evening," She tells the birthday celebrant, before heading for the door.

"I am just trying to move things along. We can go insult a shoreleave party of sailors." Sigurd puts his glass down at Zaina's insistence. "Or this guy." A pointed finger across the room at some unfortunate soul with a large nose. "Heavens man, was your mother a carrion bird, or did she just fuck one to make you?"

"Aye! You said you wanna fight, mate!? Silks wanna come in here and see the unwashed duke it out, aye? How about you double up, eh!?" calls out Orland, Duarte's orphan boy messenger, to Sigurd. He holds a fistful of cocktail napkins and one is already wadded up for the next assault.

Eventually the towel shows up, Brogan begins to wrap his hand in it, and drops more than enough silver to pay for the nights drinking as well as a whole shelf full of glasses. "Duarte, have a grand night, and when I tell ya me story I'll see yer scar. Fair 'nough?" The Northman stands to his considerable height, eyes a bit bloodshot, and he gently pats Giulio on the shoulder, "I owe ya, Giulio. Peace and Joy tonight, Aye?" He looks to Acacia, a short nod, and moves towards the door. His eyes find Sigurds, "I love ya, Lad. Keep the people here happy. You'll find me somewhere in the morning. Bring a towel, I'll need it..." he offers a curt, for Brogan, nod to both Sina and Zaina. "Make sure it's warm, Lass..." Brogan rumbles to Violet, an attempt at humor, but his heart is not in it as he trudges to the exit.

And, with that, Giulio moves to follow Brogan, a earthenware jug hanging from his right hand.

Duarte nods to Brogan and concedes loss to this endeavor. It is then that the bartender whispers something to him about the increasing tab. Duarte winces and peers at the man, then makes the slicing motion with his hand across his neck.