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The raucous laughter mingles with the sound of loud voices that echo throughout the breadth of the beached derelict, growing ever louder as Alysa makes her way along the corridor. A dark haired young boy smiles at Alysa as he darts into one of the rooms that are now on her right and emerges with a keg upon his back, hauling it in the same direction as her destination. Other workers can be seen also fetching barrels and bottles from the storage areas and rushing back towards the counter. It seems to be a busy night.

And it is. The taproom is filled with a variety of people of different races and professions, from stout dock workers to the small, child sized little folk who usually offer their skills with stonemasonry or woodworking. Most of the customers appear to be human and the only commonality among them is that none wear the splendid garb or speak in the florid tones of an aristocrat. There may be a daughter rebelling against her wealthy father or a son of nobility enjoying illicit pursuits among the less fortunate people but, if there are, they are well hidden. It may remind Alysa of one or more of the pubs in Damora. Such establishments in Viktoron tend to conduct themselves with more class but this is a rowdy bunch here. As yet, no fights have broken out that Alysa can notice but the cacophony, while not deafening, is definitely pronounced.

Rollo can be spotted still working the bar, looking more exhausted than before and he has assistance in the form of a stocky, curvaceous woman whose lush body is not entirely complimented by her less than plain face. Still, her strident voice cuts through the din as she calls out drink orders or shouts at the kitchen to produce another bowl of fishbone stew or seashell chowder.

It is the kind of crowd in which Alysa could become lost, even if her heritage provided for better bone structure and teeth than most of the others present. Only once does a man grab her by the arm but his intentions are immediately made clear as he drunkenly orders another bottle of 'this stuff', he says while holding up one of several empty bottles scattered across the small table at which he is seated.

The barmaids from earlier in the day are not present, replaced by another group of young, somewhat attractive women who hurriedly move through the throng, mindful of the occasional slaps upon the backside and bellowed demands. These wenches do not sport the pistols of their predecessors but they don't seem to need them, being just as coarse as their surroundings. Alysa is familiar with places such as these from her hunting days as well. It is where she and Jothan would often find wanted men openly drinking, not remotely fearful of the consequences their criminal actions had wrought.

Yes, the Wrongside is just like any other large tavern in the poor district of a major city. Regardless of all the chaos, that is, at least, consistent.

Alysa makes her way through the crowd, rather enjoying the chaos around her after the stringent order of the past few weeks. Even the noise is a welcome change from the silence of the shrine. There is a grin on her face as she walks over to the bar, content to just blend into the crowd, which, dressed as she is now will not be as much of a problem for her.

She takes up an empty space by the bar, lingering in the shadows as she watches the scene around her. In fact, for the first time in recent memory the woman's fingers are not knotted in her hair, in fact if it werent for her inquisitive blue eyes flicking over the crowd out of habit, she would look somewhat like a dozing cat. Her lithe body is hidden only slightly by the borrowed corset, but she is still one of the better looking women in the room. She is certain that should she desire to find trouble or any number of other things here she would have no problems.

She simply enjoys watching the crowd silently, watching for familiar faces or even something that might catch her interest for more than a passing moment. If Brawne is counting on the chaos keeping her curiosity in check for awhile, he would be right. It has been awhile since she was in a place like this, especially one where she's not going to be forced to fight her way out.

If the Oathkeepers arrived in force, surely half of the inhabitants would flee at once, seeking the nearest egress to escape the law. It is one of the reasons that, as a Stalker, the need for stealth is essential. There is something of an unfriendly rivalry between those factions as one operates entirely openly while the other prefers subterfuge. Additionally, Stalkers have a distinct tendency to be less likely to bring in their quarry alive. Oathkeepers pride themselves on securing their targets both whole and hale when possible. It also doesn't help that Oathkeepers perform their services for the good of society while the Stalkers are paid for every collar they make. This mercenary attitude is almost completely contrary to the ethos of the Oathkeepers that, on previous occasions, Alysa and Jothan had to take extraordinary means to prevent their prisoner from being apprehended instead by one of those representatives of justice.

With this lot, however, an Oathkeeper would clearly stand out as, unlike Stalkers, they are not permitted to disguise themselves except in rare instances and they must always identify themselves as who they are when conducting an arrest.

All of that responsibility and requirement might not have suited Alysa but, for the longest time, she had worked alone. Even as a thief in Viktoron, she had formed only temporary partnerships as betrayal was often inevitable and the only person she could trust was herself.

So what of this Captain Robur and his crew? They had certainly been rather friendly and forthcoming but could it simply be to lead her into a false sense of security? And to what end? Brawne evidently had his reasons for approaching her or even saving her in the first place.

It is odd that none of the other patrons had done more than pay her brief compliments yet Alysa can feel many eyes watching her. She has been seated at the bar not long when one of them finally gathers the courage to approach her.

He is a rather wiry fellow, clad in a leather waistcoat and loose trousers, held up by a belt upon which hangs a pair of daggers and a wheellock pistol. These are not the tools of the average laborer. Much like with Captain Brawne, this man's hair, which is a faded dirty blonde, is unkempt and stick up around the goggles on his forehead.

Holding out a gloved hand, the man says, 'Jak Baxter. You must be the Captain's guest.'

"Alysa" she laughs as she shakes the man's hand, his voice having startled her from her thoughts of what Brawne's motives might be. Her eyes scan over the man, making a note of where his weapons lie and estimating how long it may take her to disarm him if necessary. Old habits die hard it seems, especially when one has spent most of their life using them to survive.

"Pleasure to meet you Jak" she smiles, toying with her hair once again. "Although if it's that obvious who I am I seem to be losing my touch when it comes to blending in!" her playful laughter is clear and the smile on her face is welcoming and friendly, even if she did just visually disarm the man.

Smirking, the man, who might be young or old under the layer of soot and grease smeared on his face, shakes his head.

'Oh, no, I shouldn't worry about that!' he exclaims, trying to be heard over the discordant orchestra of resounding voices. 'I was there when the Captain pulled you out of that house up in Gornmont! I was aboard the Zenith! I just thought I recognized you! Me and some of the boys were having a game of dice when one of them pointed you out and I thought that you'd likely be long gone and away from this place by now! But here you are, right here at the Wrongside!'

He gestures to somewhere in the crowd, possibly at one of the tables along the wall. 'Would you care to join us?'

The man catches the eye of Rollo and he waves to the rotund, mustached man who merely glares back and resumes tending to the numerous drink orders, emptying bottle after bottle of various liquours into the assortment of glass and pewter tankards. Then the man grins expectantly at Alysa.

"Why not?" Alysa laughs "when in Viktoron right? After all what harm could it possibly do if I killed a little time with you boys, especially if you're friends of the Captain and all".

She slips out of her seat and lands on her feet which isn't much of a surprise, but she must admit it feels good to be able to do such things under her own power again. Her blue eyes are sparkling as she looks the man over one more time, just trying to see if there's something sinister lurking under the surface, but she's certain that with the dagger at her side she'd be able to handle any trouble that came her way.

Baxter frowns slightly. 'Um, this is Ganelon,' he says reassuringly. 'You looked pretty worst for wear, tho', so I'll expect you might still be hazy as to where you are.'

He pats Alysa firmly on the shoudler. 'Not to worry! Get some brandy into you and you'll be feeling good as the south wind!'

Making his way through the crowd, the man weaves around as if to some music only he can hear but, to Alysa, his odd gait makes more sense. This is a tavern in the less reputable part of town so there are any number of grasping hands who might seek to take what they can if for no other reason than opportunity.

Fortunately for Alysa, she has very little worth taking at the moment and can more easily keep watch over what's she got.

At one of the larger tables along the far, there sits an older stout whose white beard is peppered with soot and he has greasy black rings around his eyes where his goggles had likely been resting. Unlike Athan, this stout is entirely bald, his red scalp gleaming in the dim lantern light. Next to him is a grim faced, dark haired man with a fringe of beard around his jaws and chin and thick muttonchops. He appears to be studying something on the table.

Across from that man is another, a thin man with a calculating expression and rather wolfish features, though not literally like that of an animal. It is he who glances over at Baxter and Alysa as they approached.

To his left is a third man with thick brown hair that is slicked back by grease and a smoothly polished mustache. Like the man next to him at the table, he is peering at the set of dice that lay upon the tabletop.

'Oi!' the stout shouts at Baxter upon his arrival. 'Where are the drinks?'

'Oh, right!' Baxter sighs, rubbing his eyes. 'I knew I was forgetting something. You lads remember this lass, don't you?' He presents Alysa to the two stone faced men and the irritated stout.

'Find yer birds on yer own time,' the stout grouses angrily, his dark eyes glittering as he glowers at Baxter. 'I want a Landerangst ale and the boys want their rum! So hurry to it!'

'Now see here, Karbin!' Baxter retorts to the dwarf. 'I'm the engineer's assistant, see, so I don't take no orders from you!'

'And I,' the stout named Karbin replies, rising from his chair, now only slightly taller than he was when sitting, 'am the bo'sun's mate so you and the rest of the crew who ain't officers best do as I say or there'll be whippings!'

'Give it a rest the both of you,' says the deep, resonant voice of the bearded man as he reaches for the dice. 'We ain't amidships fer now so ye can stop trying to outrank each other!'

'I'll thank you to stay out of our conversation, Tillerman!' Karbin says, turning towards the large man who, even at his greater size, is not as broad across as the stout.

Now, listen, gents,' says the wolfish faced man in a smooth, elegant voice. 'Baxter clearly got distracted by the maiden fair and I can scarcely blame him. She is, after all, stunning.' He makes some kind of circular gesture with his hand near his chest and bows his head at Alysa.

'No,' the younger, mustached man suggests. 'She's the woman that the Captain found in that house of horrors in Gornmont.' He nods curtly to Alysa. 'I told you I thought I had seen here sitting there.'

'As it happens, you were right!' Baxter says. 'Glad you didn't lay money on it now, Wylie?' He goads the predatory looking man whose eyes continue to stare at Alysa for a moment before he casually shrugs.

'Stop stalling and roll the bones, Tillerman,' he says to the large bearded fellow. 'Your wretched luck ain't going to change just because you hold on to them longer!' Then he glances back at Baxter. 'And, you, Jak? Go and fetch those drinks for us, yeah? The wenches are doing well enough tonight that they can avoid us.'

'Maybe if we tipped a bit better,' quips the mustached man.

'Or maybe if you didn't try to lure one of them away every time we're here, Bowen,' Karbin chides the mustached young man.

Alysa blushes amid rolling her eyes at the men. "Apparently I'm something of a novelty around here today, seem likes everyone knows more of my tale than I do myself, but I suppose I can afford to kill a bit of time with your friend there was nice enough to invite me".

She leans against the wall by the men and watches as they bicker over who has to buy the drinks and she grins. She could get used to places like this, something about the noise and the chaos was calming to her.

"You guys fight like this all the time or just when there's a pretty girl around?" she teases, "though if I must say so it would have been a safe bet to not put money on. Anyone with a lick of sense would've been long gone the moment she could stand, but you boys don't know me so you hedged your bets and someone would've lost either way, it's Alysa by the way, in case you boys had a bet on that too".

Pretty?' Karbin huffs, glaring up at Alysa.

'Now don't go insulting the woman,' Wylie, the wolf faced man says to the stout before nodding at Alysa. 'Captain Robur made it very clear that, should you show up, you're not to be trifled with. Apparently you had some unpleasantness earlier today.'

'That boy is a menace,' says Tillerman, the brawny bearded man, in response.

'This is Tillerman Lee,' Baxter says by way of introduction. 'Hunor Karbin,' he adds, gesturing towards the stout. 'Bowen Fletcher.' He motions at the mustached man on the opposite side of the table. Bowen nods once more at Alysa.

'Pleased to meet you,' he says.

'And this is Wylie Thamnos,' Baxter continues, indicating the rather watchful and bestial faced man.

'Doubtlessly charmed,' Wylie says. Tillman tosses down the dice and claps his wide hand over them.

'Well?' Karbin snorts, still angrily staring at both Baxter and Alysa. 'Will one of you go and fetch drinks?'

'I'll do it!' Baxter offers, pulling out a chair between Wylie and Tillerman. 'Sit here,' he tells Alysa, 'and I'll be right back!'

Alysa laughs as she slides into the offered chair "he's just a kid and there was no real harm done, just reminds me to stay on my toes around him thats all. Its a pleasure to meet all of you and the Captain's right, I'm a lot tougher than I look and I'd hate to have to stab someone, especially in such charming company, i would hate to have you all think less of me for it"

She watches the game intently, she's familiar with the concept and given enough time she is certain she could pick up on each of the men's mannerisms enough to be able to figure out what each has rolled, doubtless an advantage of being able to read people as she can.

Studying the men, Alysa can deduce several things. For one, not all of them have the same profession. Karbin, like Baxter, appears to have a thin layer of grime on him from his duties while Wylie, Bowen and Tillerman, though unwashed, are not as covered in soot or grease. In fact, Wylie is dressed in much more stylish clothes than the others while Bowen is wearing a leather jerkin under his doublet and has a rifle strapped to his back. All of them have pistols but only Wylie has a pocketwatch tucked in the lower pocket of his leather waistcoat.

The game, however, appears to be a variation of other dice games with which she is familiar. The best roll of the six dice consists of six consecutive numbers while pairs or triples are likewise desirable. The worst possible outcome is all ones but that is rather improbable. For wagers, the men call out amounts but none of them have a single coin on the table and the bets are rather low, never more than a silver.

Walking around the table, Baxter returns to take a seat between Bowen and Karbin. He nods in the direction of a heavy set woman who is bearing a large tray upon which rest a leather pitcher, three squat brown bottles and a magnum of wine. She sets the pitcher in front of Larkin and the wine in front of Wylie, along with a long stemmed glass. The remainder of the bottles she doles out among Bowen, Tillerman and Baxter. Glancing down at Alysa with a look of what is unmistakably pity, she asks, 'Need anything then, love?'

Alysa smiles sweetly, never taking her eyes off the game in front of her, though she notices the woman's look out of the corner of her eye and marks it as curious at least. "I'm good, thanks though" she says almost absently as she glances around the table. She's less interested in the game itself but in the reactions of the men around her. She'd learned very quickly in places like this that you can learn much about a man by the games he plays and if she wishes to discern anything about the motives of both Captain and crew there is no better place for her to start than by at least socializing.

The barmaid shrugs indifferently and carries away her tray while the men resume their dice game.

'So, given it much thought then?' Wylie says in his almost nasal lilt. He waits until Alysa looks at him before he adds. 'About joining the crew.'

'What's this then?' Karbin barks, slamming down the pitcher from which he had been drinking. Foam still clings to his beard but it has washed away some of the soot. 'Who's joining the crew?'

'Why, this good woman,' Wylie says pleasantly as his hands glide over to grasp the dice. 'Is that not why the Captain is keeping her around?'

'Oh, I thought it was for mating purposes,' Karbin grunts bluntly, shrugging. 'You know how you talls have this constant need to bang your bits together. Worse than the fair folk, you are. At least they don't breed like rabbits.'

'That's rather offensive, Karbin,' Baxter replies cheerfully, holding up his bottle. 'Good on you!' He clearly knows that this only further serves to annoy the dwarf.

'She might be more capable than she looks,' Tillerman suggests in his slow, deep voice, prompting Bowen to smirk at Alysa while responding. 'You lads do know she's sitting right in front of us.'

'Oh, yes,' Baxter answers, leaning his cheek against his fist as he props his elbow on the table and gazes longingly at Alysa. 'I noticed.'

'That is why,' Wylie says frostily as he juggles the dice in his palm, 'I asked her directly.' He rolls the dice and claps his hand down to prevent them from rolling beyond his reach. He lifts his hand slightly and narrows his eyes before revealing his roll.

'Tough luck, old boy,' Bowen says, winking at Alysa before sweeping up the dice in his grasp. 'So, Mistress Alysa, if you don't mind our curiosity, just what brings you here to Ganelon and the Wrongside?'

"An invitation actually, but with the question your friend asked, at least one of you knows that" she smiles and casts her eyes around the table. If she's reading people the right way it seems that Baxter has more on his mind than just her presence and she blushes a bit.

"As for joining up, I've given it some thought this is true. But as for what the future holds for me, I haven't decided yet" her answer is mostly true, enough for her to answer them without giving away too much of her own motives.

"And what brings me to Ganelon? I presume you boys bear some responsibility there in the literal sense, but if you mean why am I still here, the lawgivers only released me from their care this morning and I recieved a most interesting missive from Captain Brawne to come spend some time here today and well that was just an offer I couldn't refuse I suppose" She leans back in her chair and smiles at the men.

"But tell me boys, given what you know about me and everything that's gone on, what say you?"

she asks, turning their questions back on them "if you were me, would you join up?"

Wylie looks around at the others with a wicked smile on his face, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. His sleek hair is pulled back into a braid held in place by a black ribbon.

'Mistress Alysa,' he says with bemusement, 'we already have. The question is whether you intend to do so as well. I ask for more than mere curiosity. You see, I am the quartermaster and responsible for ensuring that each member of the crew has their proper gear and equipment. I may need to increase the amount of feminine oriented items housed in the hold if you were to join the crew.'

'And I'm the bo'sun's mate,' Karbin adds, waiting for Bowen to roll. 'It's my job to look after every member of the crew who ain't an officer. That means most everyone else above and below decks.' His coal black eyes look her over once again. 'You don't look like you'd last.'

'The Captain must have his reasons for wanting to keep you around,' Bowen interjects. 'Are you any good with weapons?'

'I think she must have some experience with engineering,' Baxter says empathetically. 'We are hard to come by.'

'You're only an apprentice, Jak,' Tillerman Lee counters, 'and you've only been that for a couple of years now. It takes a lot longer than that to become a decent engineer.' He nods deliberately at Alysa. 'I'm a rigger's mate, so it's my job to make sure that all the rigging and everything is in proper order. It's not the most difficult task but it's important.'

Alysa runs her fingers through her hair as she considers the man's words, after all, with no other plans presenting themselves at the moment, what has she to lose by joining up with Brawne's crew? "I suppose that makes sense" she says, still deep in thought, there were still Madame Archelle's words to debate, about putting herself back in the same danger she'd only narrowly escaped from. But she wouldn't be alone this time, she would have others on the same course, people to back her up should she need it. It was then that she made her decision.

"Weapons? I'm a pretty good shot with a pistol, better than I am with a sword but I can hold my own with a knife as well" she explains, still playing her cards close to her chest. "Engineering is not really my strong point but I'm a quick learner so it's not out of the question for me to help out where I can".

"Well boys, I'll leave it at this, should the opportunity present itself for me to join up with you guys, I would take it" she smiles and leans back in her chair again "that a good enough answer for you guys? Besides, there's not like I have a bunch of offers on the table at the moment anyway".

Karbin snorts like an enraged bull and shakes his head.

'Just what we need,' he growls. 'Another woman aboard.'

'I thought among the Korrigan,' Wylie points out, 'women were considered equals to men.'

'Korrigan are not men or women,' Karbin replies tersely. 'Korrigan are Korrigan and females have the same capabilities as the males!' He squints coldly at Alysa. 'But among men and women, the same cannot be said. Women are weaker than men and they are more emotional, less disciplined and distractingly lovely at times. No offense, by the way. I wasn't suggesting you were lovely.' He nods curtly at Alysa.

'Don't mind Karbin,' Bowen says as he tosses the dice to the table, not bothering to catch them as roll to a halt precisely in the center of the tabletop. 'He's a Korrigan and you know how they are.'

'She is distractingly lovely, though,' Baxter murmurs, his eyes darting away everytime Alysa looks in his direction.

'And how are we, anyway?' Karbin snarls at Bowen but Wylie intervenes. 'Cool your cauldron, Karbin. You're an old, gruff traditionalist and you admit this with pride. You may have inadvertantly offended Mistress Alysa but surely she has enough wherewithal to recognize the source of your contentions and to not take them personally.' He also nods at Alysa.

'Ever fired a cannon?' Bowen asks Alysa.

'If you want to learn more about engineering,' Baxter offers, 'I'm sure Doctor Nemeth would be willing to take on another apprentice. Or you could learn under me!'

'I don't think learnin' is what you have in mind,' Tillerman intones wisely, causing Baxter's eyes to widen as he begins to sputter a denial while at the same time completely confirming Tillerman's accusations with his body language.

'We work much better together when we are aboard the ship,' Wylie assures Alysa as he leans closer to her so he can speak in a lower octave. 'Captain Brawne isn't harsh, even if Martinet is. We serve out of loyalty to the Captain, by whom we have all profitted greatly. If we did not, we would have left his employ.'

'I thought that Athan and that wild girl had something going on between them,' Baxter says to Karbin, attempting to speak quietly but that is an almost impossible task.

'You've been spending too much time in engineering,' Karbin answers. 'Steam's gone and cooked away what little wits ye had left.'

Alysa cannot help but chuckle, casting her enchanting smile in Karbin's direction first, her deep blue eyes taking him in curiously. "None taken, I've known a few Korrigan in my time, takes more than the likes of you to offend me I assure you, but valiant effort maybe next time". She laughs taking a page from Baxter's book and teasing him a little.

She turns again as the others start to speak, each one being gifted that same intoxicating smile. 'Canon? I can't say I have, but I'm sure there's a first time for everything". She's noticed Baxter's behaviour and his body language only confirms now what she'd deduced earlier, the man was sweet on her, which, she had to admit was kind of cute, if a girl was into those types of things. Alysa herself isn't sure where she stands at the moment, but she will admit that he is not a bad looking man and he is agreeable enough.

"Although, I think we might all be jumping the gun a little no? I mean we don't even know why Captain Brawne wanted me here tonight and we're already talking about me joining up with you guys? Let's just see what happens and go from there ok?" She hates to crush the men's hopes but she knows that just like her, Brawne is a man of his own motives and who knows if they will find some common ground. "For now, I'll settle for enjoying your company"

'Fair enough,' Bowen smiles. His roll had been good but nothing spectacular.

'More than fair,' Baxter says, grinning at Alysa. He reaches forward for the dice and his hair, which is longer than it first appears, comes undone, revealing that one of his ears comes to a delicate point. Hastily, he tucks it back under his tangled tawny mane and looks reproachfully at Alysa. If he is fae blood, he might be self conscious. Being related to the fair folk can bring both fascination and ridicule as many feel that humans should not involve themselves with other races in that way. Fae bloods are usually believed to be untrustworthy and lazy or even spies for Mystykara. Though nominally allied with Angalon, Mystykara trades primarily though the relatively recent method of air travel. Prior that time, they were somewhat isolated.

The animosity might also be historical as it had been the Mystykarans who had initiated the rebellion against the Horogoth. There are even some who claim that Mystykara had been in cahoots with the Horogoth as some part of a complex conspiracy. Most people discount this but the fair folk, with their different customs and traditions, are still viewed with suspicion as are their kin. Therefore, Jak Baxter cannot be entirely blamed for concealing this fact, if it were true, from Alysa for fear of her disapproval.

'Just as well,' Karbin comments. 'Don't need another woman aboard, driving my men to distraction when they ought to be about their business.'

Baxter flings down the dice but they bounce in different directions. Tillerman manages to stop one and Bowen deftly catches another but the rest of them go tumbling across the table and right into Alysa's lap. The man with the pointed ears blushes faintly and clears his throat.

'Scratch roll,' Karbin says somberly. 'You lose your turn and you prove my point.' He raises an eyebrow as he glances at Alysa. 'Women bring only trouble. They might as well be bad luck as far as I'm concerned.'

Unbeknownst to Karbin, Krystyna has appeared from somewhere in the crowd and deftly creeps up behind the stout, putting a finger to her lips and smiling at Alysa.

'I'll tell you one thing that women are better at than stouts,' she leans in to whisper in Karbin's ear. The dwarf gives out a shout and almost falls out of his chair.

'We're much better at sneaking about.'

'That,' Karbin blusters as he turns in his seat to glare at Krystyna, 'is hardly an admirable trait.'

'Maybe not,' Krystyna grins, 'but it is a useful one.' She nods at Alysa. 'Excuse us, you ruffians, but the Captain wants to speak with Mistress Alysa. Oh, and we've got a whole steer roasting down on the beach if you lot get hungry from all this dice rolling.'

Alysa chuckles and winks at Baxter as she tosses the dice back onto the table. "Sorry boys, I've had a great time, but it seems that's my cue to part ways with you, at least for now". She can't help but burst out laughing as Karbin tries to recover from Krystyna sneaking up on him. "You think she's good Karbin? You should see me when I'm not the center of attention...well you probably wish you could anyway!" she teases the dwarf as she slides out of her chair, making a point of walking past Baxter, just close enough that only he could hear her whisper "cute ears, perhaps I'll be back " in an attempt to make him blush a little deeper. After all, what's the use in knowing things if you can't have a little fun with people?

"Well, lead the way Lady Krystyna, we shouldn't keep the Captain waiting on account of my choice of companions now!"