Open The Bilge In The Bucket Drinks All Around

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Having wiped off enough of his ghost makeup not to cause more of a scene than he already would, Jeshal strode in through the door of the Bilge in the Bucket with his new companions in tow, a theatrical todd and a huge and excitable red panda.

"Feast your peepers, mateys!" he called to the patrons, most of whom probably hadn't a clue who he was after thirty-four years being supposedly dead. "Cap'n Ironclaw has returned! Drinks be on us!"

This at least turned many of the grumpy faces into less grumpy ones and a cheer erupted regardless.

Jeshal swaggered to the bar. "A pint o' yer best cider, good beast. Make that second best. If the scrumpy 'ere be like it was back in my day, I'd be wiggling around the floorboards telling ye I was Princess Worm, haharr!" He looked to @Ruffano Quickwhistle and @Pomodu lu Modokunomulo . "What'll it be?"​

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

By the time they reached the Bilge, Ruffano was drunk...not on alcohol,, but on the sheer absurd joy of riches and friendship.

The door creaked open, and in swept the fox, coat flared dramatically behind him, eyes sparkling with mischief. He took one look at the aftermath of a small scuffle, a slumped stoat snoring softly against a busted table leg and, without hesitation, liberated most of an unattended pie from the table beside the wreckage.

“Your sacrifice is noted, brave baker,” he murmured solemnly, already taking a bite.

He slid onto a stool beside Jeshal and Pomodu like he owned the place and slammed his paw on the bar.

“Pint of your finest!” he declared, bits of flaky crust at the corner of his grin. “Or your strongest rum, I’m feeling brave!”

Because if you couldn’t celebrate a near-arrest, a demonic hug, and getting paid in gold, when could you celebrate?

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu was in seventh heaven, delighting to be in the company of a living legend. Her wide grin caused some of those nearby to pull back in alarm; legends of a red demon who could grapple with badgers and would lift beasts off their feet with no warning had spread since her last appearance in the Bilge. To their relief, she joined the two todds at the bar, leaving them to gossip instead.

"Ain't that the Ironclaw?"

"Who?"

"Y'know, one a' the mad old ministers from Mar'kan's day, b'fore Brudenell an' the war. 'Eard 'e got that claw from a sea witch. They say he tried t' use dark magic t' barter wiv' Vulpuz fer eternal life, except 'e insulted Vulpuz an' got blown up fer it instead."

"Well, he's here, ain' he? Maybe he got that deal after all."

Pomodu missed all of these rumors, and the opportunity to right them. She was eagerly pouring through The Advanced's (Yes, You!) Guide to the Imperium, Revised Edition, pondering the drink options as described there. "I wan'tu turai de Re'du Sutafu," she declared, looking up to the bartender.

The bartender, for his part, just sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ma'am, no one serves Red Stuff anywhere. You need a special dispensation from the Ministry of Innovation to even get a thimble of it. We have red wine, though - and between you and me, you'll have a better time with the wine."

"?" Pomodu made a small sound of confusion, and the bartender sighed before reaching under the counter. "Yes, Red Stuff," he declared a bit theatrically, putting a unmarked bottle of some red wine on the bar - likely a cheap Hanshiman import. "Here you go. Don't get yourself killed. ...Bloody immigrants," the bartender muttered under his breath before turning away to fetch the drinks for the other two.

By the time he had their cider and rum poured and on the bar for them, Pomodu had taken from her pocket one of Schwitz's Genuine Military Multi-Knives* and, pulling out the corkscrew, managed to get three quarters of the cork out, and was now working with her claws to pull out the remainder. Finally getting it free, she raised her bottle in toast. "To di Metalu Ahmu Jesahalu!" she toasted. "To di Valupinusula!" Then she tipped back the bottle and started to drink.

*A tchotchke that its creator had originally marketed to the Imperial military as a set of universally useful tools contained in one handy package, and which had been used widely across all of the military for all of a week before it had been declared to be useless junk that didn't do anything it had been marketed to do in any proper fashion, instead performing a wide variety of tasks inadequately. While the military discontinued their contract with Schwitz immediately, he'd been able to market his multi-knives thereafter as "As used by the Imperial Army!", pulling in a whole new audience of rubes.