The sounds of merriment, drunken laughter, and chatter all echoed off the walls of the tavern and into the mind of a single feathered Ukanuq. The cacophonous atmosphere brought a fistful of rancor to Vin’s attitude. The rude, crude, and sometimes charming drunken one-liner slurs that were thrown about to men or women –from men or women- did well to remind the muted creature of her scar. Her fingers lightly pushed through her feathers at her throat to scratch the damaged skin with a very sour and disgruntled expression. And occasionally she’d mentally dream of the day she finds the damned human that did this to her, and completely eviscerate him. Then proceed to throw him a party while stringing his entrails in the branches of the trees as grizzly party favor. Get him a pie too, he’d get to enjoy a mouthful of dung as the last thing he eats before he passes away from shock.

Now it wasn’t that she didn’t like festivals. She personally loved them. She fondly remembered the good times she had in earlier years during the Gray March, Meta Day, and Serpent’s Rest back in the Shattered Plains. The many fun little scraps she’s gotten into. The games where the participants were constantly trash talking one another. And of course, the little whispers of sweet nothings from time to time from a charming man or woman.

No… it was the fact that this very scar she was scratching had brought a curse of silence upon her. And it certainly wasn’t that she couldn’t communicate. Either by body language, simple little gestures, a huff of breath, and even the hardlight system she wore that her close friend had designed for her. But all of that meant absolutely nothing in a room full of drunken revelers.

Wish to gamble? Good luck calling out a cheater, blurry eyes and reduced minds often can’t decipher someone grabbing another’s hand to reveal their hidden cards.
Wish to chat? A complex imagery forged by angels themselves and brought to fruition with such intricate detail… would be reduced to only a mess of colors. Like an artist took all of his paints, dumped them into a bucket and mixed them together. And somehow, that artist would not get some unattractive brownish-gray atrocity to the world of art. 
And let us not forget how a simple gesture would only get a drunken giggle or a shrug.
Yes… a Tavern is the last place a mute would ever want to be during a damned grand festival.


And yet, there was Vin. She was all geared up and on Bouncer duty in a rowdy dive of a tavern. Among her normal equipment, was her old short sword. A normal, light weight, steel blade. Low tech, but still deadly sharp. She brought her backup, partly because it is unwise to show off near drunks. But mostly because she promised to keep the blood shed to a minimum, and the versatility of her backup made it doable.

She was seated at a table set off to the side. There was an empty beer mug beside her, and then one more mug that was half full with water. Her back was towards the wall, and she was facing the crowd. The entrance was always in her sight, and all new entries and exits had earned a small careful glance before her eyes returned to what they were doing previously. And at the moment, those sharp eyes of hers were peering at a couple on the other side of the tavern wistfully. Well… a couple at the spur of the moment, she wasn’t sure. What she was sure of… was the body language. The drunken brazen man, a surprisingly cute man – likely a shy one on normal circumstances – was laying down the word play on a lass that looks as if she had hit every branch of ugly with only her face on the way down. Needless to say the boy will likely be regretting his actions when the moment is gone, but for now he seemed to be into it.

Hands were exploring publically inappropriate places. And hushed whispers were being shared. Before things got more heated than that, off they went to whatever vomit soaked room it was. And sadly… this whole display was just adding onto the cornucopia of things that made up Vin’s current frustrations. It reminded her that she just wanted to shag something tonight. Female, male… didn’t matter to her as long as it was a good time.  But not even a man so drunk he’d mistake a man a yard taller than himself and broader than a gallows across for a female would approach her. She wasn’t the most attractive thing in the world, nor was she ugly. It was just her very bloody reputation and tenacity for senseless violence when there is violence. Who would have thought that a short stock of an Amazonian wouldn’t be able to pick someone up. Sure… race was probably part of the problem. And sure, she was capable of asking someone directly. But that goes back to the issues of communication. 

In a normal scenario that would require some very provocative imagery with her projections. And in a dive where everyone’s drunk… you’d be safe to use that… but no one would understand it when the world around them is spinning. So that leaves gestures and body languages. Subtle hints certainly won’t work. So things need to be very obvious. Which goes to just straight up bending over and hiking your tail. Vin has too much pride to even think of doing that. And so… her simmering emotions were starting to over boil, and the cauldrons flames were only just beginning to lick at her sanity as well.

Her fingers began to rake and gouge at the table’s grain as her thoughts started to run away from her. A hard light projection appeared near her head as an escaped jumble of thoughts. It was a simple pinwheel of little dashes. Each one grew and flashed just briefly in sequence after the other. That poor pinwheel is already in the process of tilting from where it floated, and the colorful cycle only grew more violent. The avian creature’s eyes slowly scanned the room to try and distract herself.

And well, it seems that she was just in time to watch her Quartermaster suddenly dive on top of another man. The display drew a quick surprised recoil from the Ukanuq’s head. Then came a different sound from the crowd. Vin’s head snapped too and fro as she saw the effects of a chain reaction being set into motion. One man drew a knife and stabbed some schmuck in the back. Said schmuck turned around and smashed a chair into some guy’s face. A poor man was turned into an impromptu dart and was tossed through the air and into the wall like a dart.

Time to get to work. She needed a medium to release her pent up frustration anyways.

She stood up so quickly that the chair she was sitting on was tossed backwards and to the floor. She rounded the table, and soon caught sight of a large feline kin diving on top of a woman who looked more out of place than a in a herd of sheep. Big guy looked like he was going to eat her, or lay claim on her. It depends really. The first option would be bad, and the second Vin would just envy her luck. Either one though… it looked like this humie didn’t want it. With an annoyed huff of breath, she crossed the distance quickly, shoving people out of her way to break the two up.

Just before the large creature can make a lounge at her throat, Vin had grabbed hold of him by the scruff of the neck, and his tail. With a gargled hiss of breath, she dug her talons into the floor boards and twisted her body. Her strained efforts have served her well, and lifted then tossed the man a few feet and sent him tumbling to the floor. Vin herself was thrown slightly off balance by the massive difference in mass, but she did manage to stumble in a path to put herself between the victim and the assailant.

This hulking furred was quick to get back to his feet to match the speed that Vin had recovered her balance. And if a blood thirsty glare that’s so harsh that it could melt a mirror wasn’t enough to declare to the world his displeasure, then the low rumbling as he stalked his way back to Vin with fangs bearded surely was.

There were no words shared between the two when the lion finally had stepped close enough that his nose was just a hair away from touching Vin’s beak. What was shared, was a fierce battle of bravery featuring only prolonged eye contact. Seconds quickly went by as they both waited for each other to make their plays. Those seconds could have grown into minutes if it wasn’t for a small interruption. Another bottle had been sent cartwheeling through the air, and it smashed into the back of the large lions head. And now, with his fury at critical mass the lion let out a fierce roar. A declaration of war to those who knew the ways of the tribal Ukunuqs.

Vin made her play. One talon shifted a step back behind herself while her head reared back. With a target set in mind, she brought her head forward at a violent speed and slammed her beak hard into the larger creature’s snout. There was a deafening and painful sounding crack when hard bone met softer bone and tissue. And as the male reared back, Vin had pounced him. Her meager amount of mass was enough to send him stumbling back and crashing down into the tables behind himself.