Julianne
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LET THE TEST QUEST BEGIN
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Denise
Not far from Salvainia itself, the small local town of Gershwig acted as a lovely coastal stop-in point. With the seas calm and average port busy, the place had a fair few more individuals than normal in the cobbled, wide streets. One or two carriages had made their way through town from the docks, headed towards the capitol with fresh goods from the seas. While it wasn't the nicest port in the world, it definitely helped with congestion and made it easier to slip things past the imperial controls.

As salty wind blows through the streets, one place seems particularly active for a late afternoon. The Salted Cockel's sign may have been tarnished with salt and rust, but inside it was a fine little place. With well-lit lanterns and shuttered windows, the bar had a warm glow to it, with talking and murmuring all through the tavern. Sailors fresh off the boats lingered with the locals, gossiping and spreading stories from their brief travels while glasses clinked as they were placed back onto the shelves and racks behind the bartender.

The smell of salt was suffocated by the smell of cooked fish and boiling broth. Every once and a while, another bowl or plate of something or other was pushed out from the back kitchens to some non-mattering patron. The bartender, while aged, was definitely sprucey enough to work his place rather well, filling cups and glasses when he had to and spending time wiping the countertop when he didn't.

The scene was set. All action needs an audience, and this one was ripe for a protaganist to grab some attention.
Connie
Being and off and on traveler, Cynthia sighs with contentment as she finds herself in Gershwig. She'd been planning on maybe trying to find some local tastes for her own brews, but it was honestly so charming in and of itself she was doing more sight seeing than ingredient searching. She had picked up some sea glass that she thought was lovely, and as it approached afternoon found herself drawn to The Salted Cockel. 

It looked busy, but warm and inviting with voices leaking through the doors and windows as she slithered inside. The smells were both familiar and unfamiliar; A call back to childhood and wandering the docks with water macen friends. She smiles, moving to the bar and raising her hand, waiting her turn patiently.

"Could I please get a mug of ale and a bowl of soup?" When it was her turn, looking around and taking things and people in, smiling slightly.
Denise
The room didn't react at all at her entry. In fact, the room didn't even seem to notice her walk in, everyone too involved in their own gossip and drama to care. As she approached the bar, the aging long-haired fellow behind it looked up and gave her an analysing look before flashing what could only be called a grimace of a smile as he spoke in a comedic tone. "Jeez-oh, even the snakes are gettin' bigger!" He lets out a wheezy chuckle before his smile quickly disappears.

He turns to lift a mug off a slightly dusty shelf with a nod, starting to fill it from a keg before sliding it towards her. He walks towards the end of the bar, leaning over it and yelling down the hall towards the kitchens about wanting another bowl. Once he does that, he walks back over and speaks with a far more formal tone. "A'ight, 'at'll be one o' them gray, shiny ones please." He holds out a slightly dirty hand expectantly, waiting for his silver of payment with a slightly bored expression on his face.
Connie
She was, honestly, sort of relieved when she was mostly ignored. She didn't mind being a wallflower, and sometimes folks didn't take well to Beastkin. At the comment from the bar tender, she grins, answering, "Well, I suppose I'm bigger than *Most* Garden snakes." She felt a bit uneasy and tried to let it roll off her back like it was nothing.

Reaching into her coin pouch she removes a silver and hands it to him, pausing to listen in on some of the conversation around her. "Seems like a few ships just came in.." She says half to herself, uncertain if the bartender would even reciprocate conversation. That wasn't too bad, though she could remember seeing some sailors come in with swollen gums and joints when she was a child. Her mother called it, *Poor eating*, but sometimes it grew into more than that.
Denise
The man ignores her first comment as he takes her coin, taking a moment to slip it into the butt-pocket of his trousers. Once it's carefully away, the man nods with a pout, talking with a hushed voice. "Aye, I ain't a fan o' those navy types. Canna pass up the coin though, 'eh?"

A woman with an excruitatingly annoyed expression on her face walks up the hall, sliding a bowl of broth on the table before storming off away, the man walking over to slide it over towards the snake woman.

Things are going too well.
Connie
"They can be a little rowdy," She agreed quietly, feeling the hair on the back of her neck rising. She wasn't sure why she was beginning to feel so on edge. The day had been fine, but most anyone willing to take coin didn't care who you were so long as your coin was good. "Some were fine, but others just seemed to look to cause trouble after being cooped up so long."

She took the bowl of broth, but felt overly aware of her surroundings, and found herself giving a small glance about. Keeping an eye on those around her just in case. She *Is* A beastkin after all, and even if she learned about those troubles late in life, her mother had hounded her about what sort of problems being one could lead to.

Especially in a tavern of drunk sailors looking for fun.