Open Into the Foxes' Den

(Kinda an open thread, just message Dusk and Dryad/Caden if you'd like to join. Caden and Daniil are about to walk into a very dangerous situation they'll inevitably have to fight their way out of.)

"See? I was correct about turning left at that intersection," Daniil remarked to Caden as he pushed open the door to the dingy, dimly lit tavern tucked away down a back alley in the Slups. "That ferret didn't know what he was talking about." He held the door open for his partner, letting light spill into the smokey environment, the haze from a dozen lit cigars forming a cloud inside that cut visibility significantly. There were, at least, a significant number of males in the room, and from what Daniil could discern, they mostly seemed to be foxes, though that wasn't surprising. After all, they were represented to an outsized extent in the population, even more now after the acquisition of Westisle and the new wave of migration it had inspired. They certainly matched what Daniil had been told to expect, primarily a lot of especially furry beasts in an inordinate amount of leather. He'd also been told they were wary of strangers, and the looks he was getting ranged from the cautious to the contemptuous.

"Hullo chaps," Daniil greeted them, trying to put on his best Vulpinsulan accent, bright and energetic. He glanced to Caden and nodded toward a table near the bar. "Looks like there's space open for us," he indicated. "Shall we?" He offered Caden his arm.
 
"I imagined it more...colorful?" Caden took Daniil's arm. He waved smoke from his face with his other paw. "In the city closest to my village in northern Varangia, these sorts of places were far more lively."

They traipsed through the tavern to the table. Caden released Daniil's arm and pulled his chair out for him. "But I suppose open acceptance has not been the norm in the Imperium for as long."

The marten felt the fur on the back of his neck prickling with caution. He glanced around the room, noting several of the nearest foxes glowering at him. Taking a seat across from Daniil, Caden adjusted his purple ascot, a bright splash of color against his crisp, white shirt and black vest. He had forgone wearing his sword, instead opting for the simple dirk he had carried as a kit and younger adolescent--the one belonging he had kept from his younger days in the Imperium.

"Thank you for inviting me out," he gave Daniil a shy smile. "I haven't had much opportunity to simply go out with a friend in quite some time."
 
Daniil, for his part, unbuttoned his own Fyadorian-style coat to reveal that he had chosen to wear a colorful ascot of rainbow hues above his similarly Fyadorian style shirt, both buttoning up the sides. He'd brought his own katana with him, as he did everywhere he went; he even cradled it to his chest as he slept, fearful that it would be stolen from him in his sleep. He smiled at Caden, a bit bashful, but still more relaxed than he'd been in all the time Caden had known him. "Thank you for coming with me," he confirmed. His eyes went down to the table as he admitted, "I've never come someplace like this on my own. I've never quite had the courage. My sister used to take me to one in Westisle, but it's nothing like this." He looked about, noticing how many eyes were on them. He blushed a bit as he leaned in and added, "I think they must assume we're here as a couple. I think they're jealous of me."
 
Caden flicked an ear and gave a sidelong glance to the nearest beast at the bar, his tone playful. "Hm, you think? I'd say they could just as well be jealous of me, seeing me with a handsome, well-dressed todd such as yourself." The marten's smile became more comfortable and open as he winked roguishly at Daniil.

"And besides, it's always more fun to go to one of these places with a friend. You get to subtly--or not-so-subtly--assess the other beasts in the bar together." He tilted his head towards a hulking specimen of a fox with tattooed arms several tables over. "For example, do you think he's as tough as he looks, or is he a gentle giant who takes great pride in giving excellent hugs?"
 
Daniil followed Caden's gaze, trying to ignore the small twinge of distress in his heart as Caden eyed the others in the bar. For some reason, the description of them both as 'friends' unnerved him in this context, while the thought of the marten leaving arm in arm with another fox made him... queasy? Weepy? Jealous, a part of him whispered from deep within. He swallowed that feeling and focused on the fox that Caden had indicated. That fox met his gaze and, picking up a knife that he'd embedded tip-first in the table, he pointed it at Daniil, then mimed drawing it across his own throat.

Daniil blinked. "I think he might be into something fairly extreme," he remarked. His eyes traveled across the patrons in the bar, noticing that it wasn't just mostly foxes - it was all foxes. He frowned, furrowing his brow. "I know there's the stereotype of foxes and our preferences," he remarked quietly, leaning in towards Caden, "but I thought there would be at least a few mustelids here. Plus, the atmosphere leaves something to be desired. The teahouse in Westisle was more colorful than this. Perhaps there's a remembrance or wake going on for someone in the community?"
 
"Huh. Maybe." Caden scratched at his cheek as he made a more detailed inspection of the other tavern-goers. "We are in the Slups, after all. Perhaps if we had found such a place in the Trenches it would be more tasteful."

He turned back to Daniil. "And who says I only fancy other mustelids? Jacks, bucks, todds--I am picky, to be sure, but not about the species." It felt very important to him that the todd knew this bit of information about his preferences, though he made a point to avoid searching any further down that particular avenue of thought in the present moment.

"It's about the presence of another, how they hold themselves and how they interact, their candor and earnestness and frank honesty about who they are. And, well, it helps if they're easy on the eyes, too." The marten lifted his brow. "What about you, Daniil? Do you have any particular preferences? Maybe we could find you a suitable todd tonight."
 
Daniil's eyes widened, and he seemed to panic a bit as he realized that Caden had gotten entirely the wrong view of his preferences. "Oh, no," he hurried to state, "that wasn't my point at all. I wasn't saying that you should only be with mustelids; you should be with whoever you like." He cleared his throat, trying to clear a lump there which just wouldn't go away. "Erm..." He took a deep breath before admitting, "I actually think that... er... martens... are very handsome." He tried fruitlessly once more to clear his throat. "It's the fur, I, err... I think the texture looks nice. Haven't really gotten to touch it much though." 'Gates, he couldn't even look at Caden without blushing.

The pair's conversation was cut short by a shorter fox, his muscles well defined despite his rather lean frame, getting up from his table nearby to sit down at the free spot at theirs. He had sharp yellow eyes and orange fur, his gaze flitting between the pair as they came in. "You know," he remarked, "we were just talkin', an' we reckon you either 'ave to be really brave or really stupid to come in 'ere. So, I reckoned I'd come on by to ask you two direc' which it is. You brave, lads? Or are you stupid?" His eyes flitted between the pair of them.

Daniil, for his part, was left momentarily speechless, looking to Caden for help. Was this a Vulpinsulan cultural thing, or a part of the subculture that he'd missed in Hanshima?
 
Caden did not want to admit to himself that he felt a thrill when Daniil revealed his attraction to martens. He was about to lean in to provide the todd with an opportunity to sate his curiosity on the texture of marten fur when the short fox approached their table. Caden took in the newcomer's appearance and demeanor. The prickle on the back of his neckfur that he had felt upon entering the bar turned into a hackle rise.

"I could ask you the same question," Caden said, his voice level. He adjusted his glasses on his snout. "Perhaps I'm missing something here, though. We have yet to be asked if we want any food or drinks, and everybeast is looking at us as though we smell worse than a washed up whale. In all honesty, I haven't been to this kind of establishment in the Imperium before, and neither has my friend here. Have we simply gotten off on the wrong footpaw, maybe neglected to announce ourselves properly?"
 
The fox sneered at the pair. "Oh, you announced yerselves loudly enough alright. You walk in 'ere like you own the place, the pair a' ya, bold as brass. Ain' enough ya keep snappin' up the Harbor for yerselves, ya gotta walk inta our sanctuary too?"

Something clicked in Daniil's mind. "If this is because I am Fyadorian, I apologize for any affront I may have inadvertently caused," he stated. "I am aware of the reputation of House Ryalor and I can assure you that my intention was not to offend or to intrude," he stated. "My friend and I here simply decided to seek out like-minded beasts in a locale we were informed would be hospitable to us. It appears we were mistaken. If my presence is of such offense, I can depart and leave my friend to enjoy more hospitable company."

He rose from his chair, giving Caden an apologetic look for ruining his day out, then froze as all of the foxes in the bar got to their footpaws, glaring at him. The todd across from him sneered at him. "Oh, I don' think either a' ya is goin' anywhere."
 
Alwyn was in quite a gay mood as he made his way into the Slups, wearing his weathered plate curaiss, brigandine, and morion to fit in as one’s experienced fox mercenary, and carrying a smaller poleaxe along with the broadsword at his belt. He had thought he would have to slave away for the rest of the month to make up for the five hundred gilders he had been swindled out of by the Bowen Arrow vixens, but his mother had approached him with an offer-do some basic reconnaissance and try to learn more about the growing threat of the Vulpine Supremacists in the Harbor. Evidently, his father had been attacked by them while he had been stationed in Tully Shore, and the upcoming appointment of the new woodlander Minister of Niceties was going to cause quite a stir, so Misanthropy was preparing another crackdown.

The issue being, we know that these gangs in and of themselves could never do something like mount an attack on my father or seriously disrupt the confirmation of a new Minister, we have to find-and more importantly-get evidence-of the families in Amarone and the IRA backing them before we can make our move against them. The Empress has her footpaw on their throats-but even she will not risk the real means of dealing with them, title revocation, without proof on her side.

Of course, he was not going to accept his mother’s request for free-that ship had long, long sailed, and his mother still seemed preoccupied with his other siblings over an attempt to repair a relationship with him-he wondered, often, if he had simply be written off. But the prospect of a fairly large mission budget-nearly 2,000 gilders-and a potential reward was enough to sway him where family connections could not. Thus, he made his way to the small tavern in the Slups, where he intended to use most of the budget to engage in debauchery-there was still plenty of fun to be had with tavern vixens, especially Slups ones and then dedicate a small amount to his mission, mostly, for now, getting into their initial good graces, as they would not let slip their secrets so easily. He had already gotten more than a little bit drunk on fine wine to begin with.

Happily kicking open the door of the tavern with a loud BANG, bringing the attention of the entire building onto him for a moment, he announced his presence.

“Ahoy me fellow todds and vixens! Look who just came back from a contract on the Sathern Continent looking for a good time among proper company! Gods-damn woodlanders always causing problems around Pricklee-not to mention getting the mustelids and rats to follow orders is like tryin' to get a fish to walk on land. Whole thing would go to hell if it weren't for the Colonel there, a proper fox commander. Anyway, where can a todd get some good drink and company, eh? Good to be around my own kind. Tell ye all what-a round on me, and I’ll show ye some of the skulls I got from the damn beasts. Maybe you can make em’ into some kind of mugs.”

Alwyn did indeed carry with him in a sack the skulls of several woodlanders-taken from Pyrostoat Memorial training hall, of course, including one of a badger-to further highlight his credibility. Get everyone in a good mood, have some fun with the vixens, show up a bit, maybe get into some gambling and fisticuffs to prove his masculinity, and, eventually, he knew they would invite him in further.

As his eyes surveyed the room, he froze for a moment looking at Caden and Daniil-what in the Gates were they doing here out of all places? Some kind of assignment he was not aware of? To keep tabs on him? At any rate, he could feel the tension beginning to return, he walked straight up to the todd harassing both of them, putting the free paw he did not hold his poleaxe in on his shoulder.

“Oi, friend, come now-these two look a little borin’, eh? Best to get a drink with me and I can tell ye about the badger I killed. Much more interestin’ than these two, no? And ‘sides, their money here going to a good cause at the end of the day, ain’t it, if ya get my drift? So long as they don’t cause trouble and-” gesturing to Caden “the marten servant knows his place. Gotta have some beasts to serve us foxes after all. Ain’t that what the Great Kitsune said? She made the other species ta serve us so we can focus our divine intellect on better things. Let him entertain and carry things for his master, better an’ a woodlander at any rate.”
 
When the entirety of the bar rose, Caden pushed himself up, slowly and deliberately. His paw did not stray towards his dirk, not yet, but his entire body had become like a coiled spring, his attention and awareness taking in the beasts closest to him and Daniil.

The door banged open, and Caden's eyes flicked up to Alwyn. Despite the potential threat to his person presented by those within the bar, the jack found his nerves rising at the prospect of the Lieutenant seeing him in such a setting with Daniil. Though he had not outright forbade Caden's interaction with his cousin, getting close to him was likely not on the list of the wisest of moves to keep Daniil from certain sensitive information. Alwyn, however, seemed to have his own agenda in the tavern, and did not appear to have any suspicions about the pair. Though Caden had growing suspicions that perhaps he and Daniil were not where they thought they were.

He glanced at Daniil. Servant? Caden mouthed in confusion at his companion.
 
Daniil froze as Alwyn burst on scene, uttering the sort of jingoistic boasting that, while not exactly unheard of among some elements in House Ryalor, had never been known to be characteristic of the once prince. When Alwyn spotted Daniil and Caden present, the briefest of confusion flashed across his face before he adapted to their presence, trying to defuse the situation. Daniil caught Caden's mouthed question, and Daniil shot him an apologetic look.

"Er, yes," he remarked, trying to put on a more authoritative voice. "My jackservant and I are just out to celebrate our recent victory over those, er, heathen woodlanders." He couldn't bring himself to use the term goodbeasts; no one respectable used that anymore, but he was starting to get the sense that maybe this wasn't a respectable crowd. Who would have thought the local dandy community would be so specist? "Why don't we just settle down, and I'll buy you a drink as well, sir?"

The todd who had approached them was glaring a bit suspiciously at the newcomer, perhaps unimpressed by the hamfisted nature of Alwyn's performance. "You can drop the skulls at the bar," he allowed. "Consider it an entry fee." He peered suspiciously at the fox before glancing between him and Daniil. "What about species traitors, eh, 'friend'?" he remarked, looking back to Alwyn. "You ever gut a Ryalor before?"
 
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