Scene #1506:

Owner	Pose
Admiral Merlwyb	'Tis another day in Limsa Lominsa. The sun shines high above with white clouds floating without a care in the world. Calm tides only assist the movement of ships from sea to port, or the reverse as the case may be. A gentle breeze carries voices easily, the loose language and rough tones of the Lominsian people echoing amongst the stones. The smell of the sea permeates all, and the sound of ropes twisting and canvas stretching is almost as prevalent. In the midst of the city stands the Drowning Wench atop one of the main towers of the city, a bustling hub of activity for Lominsians and adventurers alike. With the Admiral slowly opening the ports to non-Eorzean Union allies, it has also become the primary location for an outsider to gain their bearings before stepping out into La Noscea and beyond. Baderon, the proprietor of the tavern and ever-present figure behind its bar, has expanded his patronage to not only help direct the newcomers to where they should go, but also to provide food and board to those intending to visit for a time. The rooms are sparce but comfortable, the food basic but filling, and the drinks are ever kept filled so long as one has the coin to pay for more...
Ryu	So that's where Ryan has been staying. Having grown tired of simply reacting to each battle as it comes, he has decided to be more proactive about it. This led him to Limsa Lominsa and this tavern. Having stayed there for a day or two, his days have been spent almost entirely with casual mingling, trying to locate the necessary person for tracking down a certain soldier. All he knows is the physical description of the man's armor and his habit of showing up with a load of magitech-wielding soldiers. He hasn't been clear on /why/ he wants to track this man down, with many of his questions being of a nature where he's looking for who knows who, and what intel can be drawn from each person. He's very patient and a gracious tipper, and he has had that gentle yet somewhat sad smile on his face the whole time he's been searching. For the third day in a row, he sits at a table, sipping at drinks. He maintains his patience, because he knows that eventually someone will catch wind of who he's looking for... and that someone is likely to give him a lead. It helps that the tavern is such a pleasant place to linger at.
Admiral Merlwyb	Baderon runs a tight ship at the Drowning Wench. Bar brawls are swiftly forced outside, and those who hope to eat-and-run find themselves without the means to run at all. There's a wide variety of patrons who visit the tavern, from the Lalafell farmers in the nearby farms to rugged Roegadyn sailors looking for a pint of ale and even the eye-catching uniforms of the Yellow Jackets or Maelstrom make a rare appearance. Though most Ryu have met so far have been at least cordial enough, there is a noticeable distance between him and them. Lominsians are a strongly independant people, and outsiders are watched with a wary eye no matter their intention or even place of origin. So far, the conversations have been short and information scarce. Baderon taps his scruffy chin with a knowing gleam in his eye, watching the stranger from a distant land. Though he himself has already held a conversation with Ryu to set up boarding arrangements, and also a brief insight into what has brought the young man here, he has his own network. And as a Lalafell male tottles over to the bar, dressed in the clothing of a retainer, Baderon rests his elbows on his bar and crosses his arms upon its surface. "Oy, lad -- ye call yerself Ryu, aye?" He lifts a hand, beckoning him over. "Someone's here who might help ye out on yer quest."
Ryu	It's actually refreshing, as opposed to depressing, that it's hard to get information. Ryan has plenty of money to spend relaxing at the tavern day to day, and he knows that it's impossible to linger at a place this long without finding anything. So he doesn't seem surprised when Baderon calls him over. He casually finishes his drink, and stands up, walking over with lazy gait. When he stops at the bar, he drums his hands against it a couple times, "Aaalright," he cheers, "Who is it, then? I was starting to think I was barking up the wrong tree, not a lot of wordy sorts around here." The easy-going nature of his posture suggests he wouldn't have minded that at all. He has been enjoying the simple qualities of the tavern and conversation so far. He looks around with his brows raised, trying to guess who Baderon is talking about while he waits for an answer. He doesn't make any assumptions, though he does look down at the Lalafell with that curious gaze for a second, wondering if this is the one he meant.
Admiral Merlwyb	"That we not be," Baderon agrees with a roguish grin on his craggy face, eyes glittering beneath the white-and-blue bandanna wrapped around his skull. "All th' more reason t' listen when words're ready t' be spoken." He motions towards the Lalafell next to Ryu. "This here be Perimu Haurimu. He was a Retainer t' adventurer sorts a'fore th' Calamity some months back." The tanned Lalafell bows to Ryu. "Word's on the breeze thicker'n salt 'bout a Unioner pokin' about. Figured there be no harm in seein' what sort'a person ye be for meself." He readjusts the leather patch over his left eye, though his golden right eye has a keen look in it. "Would ye mind repeatin' th' description of this soldier ye seek? I got th' basic gist, but we Lominsians are a gossipy bunch an' tales are usually meant to be spun tall."
Ryu	Ryan nods in understanding of what they're saying, listening to Perimu closely when the Lalafell speaks to him. He has that patient smile from before. He finds a seat before he would even begin talking about this, wanting to relax so it's easier to remember what he saw in those chaotic fights. He's not the best at this, so it takes him a moment to come up with something that would be easy to remember. "There have been dragon attacks offworld recently, where knights that have a dragon theme to their armor have been working alongside the Dravanian Horde," he tells the Lalafell, "Their commander is a man wielding a lance, that has black mixed in with his armor. I think he uses magitek. The first time I saw him..." He has to think about it again... "I believe he was riding a dragon." "Does that help?" he wonders, clasping his gloved hands together in his lap and giving a pleasant quizzical look toward the Lalafell.
Admiral Merlwyb	Perimu frowns when Ryu mentions the Dravanian Horde. "Thal's balls. That's no good." He folds his arms over his chest, tilting his head to one side. "If this target of yers is mixed in with the Dravanian Horde, then ye should look towards Coerthas -- a mountainous region northwest o' th' Black Shroud an' due north o' Mor Dhona. Gettin' there's easy -- just catch a ride on an airship from 'ere t' Gridania an' start movin', map in hand -- but when ye get there..." His head tilts to the other side. "See, ye got two things against ya. First, Coerthas has been buried under constant snowfall since the Calamity and th' whole Unification bit, so ye need t' be prepared fer that." He points up at Ryu, his other hand planting on his hip. "Th' second is worse. Coerthas is Ishgardian land, an' rumor has it that Ishgard is not on good terms with th' members of the Eorzean Alliance -- like Limsa Lominsa." Perimu shakes his head. "Furthermore, there've been horrid rumors from people who've left Ishgard t' escape th' cold. Some say th' entire nation has become some religious cult against the Dravanians, suspecting some o' their own people as bein' dragons in disguise or some rot. Never mind how they view non-Ishgardians as a whole, much less non-Eorzeans, an' some possibility of otherworldly draconic taint or somesuch." His whole expression turns dead serious. "It's a bad situation, this."
Ryu	Ryan's patient smile remains as a thorough explanation is given. The blue-haired soldier seems to soak in the information, though when specific instructions are given, he pulls out a notepad and a ballpoint pen to write some of it down in shorthand so that he doesn't forget it later. The part about snowfall gets a couple of nods out of him, not seeming to bother him at all. However, when Ishgard's state is explained to him in more detail... he freezes. He grimaces slightly at the idea of people being paranoid about 'hidden dragons,' which shows some of his sharp teeth. "That's... damned unlucky, 'cause if I go there I might get skewered," he remarks to Perimu. He breathes a heavy sigh. "That explains why the Horde is so touchy, though. A grudge like that has to have gone on for a very long time..." He taps the pen at his notepad, his patient expression now shadowed by the dire information he has been given. His smile is now a tired frown. "I'd prefer not to get mixed up with the Ishgardians if I can help it. I'm just trying to deal with one problem at a time." He stuffs the notepad away in his pocket, and waves to Baderon, indicating he wants a drink. He's ordered the same thing every time, so it should be simple enough to know what he wants.
Admiral Merlwyb	Baderon seems to be more interested in assisting other patrons than the conversation at hand, but Ryu finds the mug of his chosen drink touching his fingertips within only a few moments. The patron of the Drowning Wench seems quite familiar with meeting the needs at hand without interrupting nor overtly overhearing anything. Admittedly, as one would expect from a den of thieves and pirates. Perimu nods, seeming to not be bothered by Ryu's admittance of being draconic. "Wise choice. They say th' Admiral is tryin' t' avoid instigatin' Ishgard 'erself, an' keepin' th' people from quailin' at th' name Bahamut is no easy task atop o' that either. Yer Union leader ain't th' same as th' Primal we know, but good luck convincin' e'ryone else o' that." He cups his chin in one gloved hand, obviously thinking. "Ye cain't just sneak in -- surefire way t' git yerself in trouble, no matter yer intentions. Wit' 'em untrustin' o' th' Alliance an' th' Union held in lower regard than that, ye can't just claim official business eith'a." Baderon half-turns, his gaze focused down in a mug he's drying with a towel in his hands. "Could jot you down as a Lominsian adventurer, send ye t' Camp Dragonhead. Word is Lord Haurchefant still welcomes adventurin' types despite Ishgard's stance, an' he's willin' t' take any help he can get against the Dravanians. Problem is, if ye be draconic blooded, no amount o' endorsement will protect ye if events go belly-up."
Ryu	Ryu's frown remains as Perimu talks, but he nods in agreement of what he's saying. He sips at his drink, happy to have this, at the very least, to take his mind off of the horror of dealing with a bunch of dragon-hating people on a regular basis. "Well... silver lining, it'll be like a practice run before heading home and dealing with the general opinion of dragons there," he says, trying to make himself feel better about essentially being a witch walking into a church during the witch hunts. The dragon lets out a puff of a sigh and stands up from his seat, sipping from his mug. He waggles a gloved finger at Baderon, and smiles at the bartender, "That's a decent idea. Shame about not being able to use my dragon form over there, though, it'll slow me down a lot." He shakes his head, unhappy with the idea of having to hide his nature again, even if it's to keep from getting lynched.
Admiral Merlwyb	Perimu shrugs, arms lifting over his shoulders in an exaggerated motion typical of Lalafells. "It's yer hide if ye still wanna take yer chances. I've already told ya all I know. What ye do with it's none o' me concern." Baderon chuckles good-naturedly. "With th' constant snowfall freezin' th' eyes outta their sockets, I reckon they might not be able t' tell one dragon from another if push comes t' shove. Keep yer wits 'bout ye an' do yer best t' look like some random Midlander," he beats his chest with a fist as if to indicate himself, "and ye should be good." He puts away the mug with more care than his rough demanor would imply under usual circumstances. "Still, there be no rush. Take a moment, consider yer options, pray t' whate'r gods ye have, wha'er ye wish. If I can help ye further, or if ye wish to take up me offer, just say th' word."