Fiers' shoulder was weighed down by the gauntleted hand of Reignald the Omen, and he half-snorted in laughter, and half-choked in a panic. He'd gone rigid, and his mind was fluttering from jibe to jibe but in what seemed half a heartbeat, Reignald had already taken his hand off of Fiers and was turning to address... 

[i][color=FFE700]An orc? That's odd. He seems like a jovial fellow, though I can't imagine why he'd-[/color][/i]

Fiers burst out laughing, his howls drowning out both Rosha's admonishment, and the crooning of Alya's flute for a span of seconds.

[color=FFE700]"The Virginal Company? That's hilarious! And what a gathering of innocent virgins we are! A seasoned general, a cold bitch with fists for her tongue, a Songweaver [i]without[/i] a tongue, an alcoholic orc, and myself, well, I need no introduction! Yes, truly we are quite the group of untested whores,"[/color] Fiers cackled, pointing to each present member of the group, before his eyes fell and he spotted R'Ornn. [color=FFE700]"Ah yes, that most revered and weathered of us all, His Most Feared and Respected member of the Virginal Company, rumoured to have actually [i]been[/i] in the bedchamber of a member of the opposite sex while a modicum of danger transpired outside its doors, I present to you; our crystal puppy. I'm told that women are quite fond of his adorably childish features. And you'd be surprised what you can do with a crystal, given the proper inspi-"[/color]

Fiers paused in his tirade, cocking his head, had he heard that? Completely forgetting his address to the other company members, the bard sprang up the gangplank and dropped his newly purchased things into a bag which he then tossed down into the brig. A clattering sound ensued, followed by angry shouts but the bard had already turned back towards the docks, to face the others and asked, [color=FFE700]"Why are the juniors talking about Vice-Captain Hartwine? Is there something I've not been told?"[/color] 

With a flourish, Fiers took his lute off his shoulder and played a flurry of arpeggios and a veritable storm of notes, subconsciously infusing the musical barrage with a raw form of inquisitive anger that implied that he [i]should[/i] have been the first one to know the information that had been withheld. In the deep and thunderous rolling of the short piece, he captured the size and authority, the tempered expectation and stern iron-clad strength that Reignald seemed to carry on his shoulders as naturally as Fiers would his own lute. He rarely did solely instrumental pieces, and even more seldom improvisation, but the emotion took him and he bombarded the crew and company with a true outpouring of righteous indignation. He kept it brief, so as to avoid dulling the sensation, but ended with a high contrast note that set their ears ringing, hoping his point would come clearly across. [center][youtube]https://youtu.be/zt3M3PvtlXA[/youtube][/center]