((We might have scampered off ahead, but feel free to join in. Also, Xali - I'll likely have our newest kitty companion, Trinara,  join in later if that's fine! ))<br/><br/>Pausing outside the door to the tavern, Arcea waits patiently on her Sciuridian and elvish companion, doubled over to catch her breath after the little dash she'd made to the entrance "Phew..." She exhaled under her breath, putting her hands on her hips as her breathing rate slowed "...gonna have to get a bit of excercise, Arcea! Busty raccoons do nothing for your stamina...phhhhew!" Taking a few seconds to adjust her armor (which fit just a smidge tight around the chest now), she adds with a smirk "...or your armor. Note to self - loosen the straps a bit." It wasn't the first time she'd 'binged' a little bit, nor would it likely be the last - eating another was both far more exciting, more filling, and just overall leaps and bounds BETTER than normal food - and within a couple of days her body always used up the little bit of extra fluff that tended to crop up from time to time, especially given her normally rigorous morning workout routine.<br/><br/>Casually readjusting her swordbelt while her other companions strolled up, Arcea runs over the squirrel's words in her head. Pirates seemed to have a...lack of unity. Something that, amongst the Cal'Drua, was paramount. Oh, there were internal struggles, bickering and fights, and sometimes...SOMETIMES...someone ended up gurgling in another's stomach after an especially raucous night, but there was an ever-present sense of belonging that had always given her more than a little bit of comfort. Settling the belt a little more firmly on her hips, Arcea leaned to the side as Yasha finished up her little explaination, hand perched upon the swell of her thigh "Couldn't imagine that being a...safe way to go about life. True, being a Cal'Drua warrior is less safe, but you've got so many points of refuge. Oh, there's disagreements, but any Cal'Drua can walk into any village and be cared for, if they require it. Different paths still come together as a cohesive whole." Extending her arms before her, Arcea clasps her fingers together, interlocking them firmly "Big family. For better or worse. It's how we live. Pass on stories. History. Knowledge - wasn't even my village that taught me to speak your language, but one closer to the edges of our territory."<br/><br/>Mention of 'having loot stolen by others' makes Arcea's furry ears wilt slightly, her upbeat mood dwindling just the faintest bit "That...well, that...I couldn't imagine. We share in bounty equally, given stature and accomplishments. A warrior who proved himself or herself in battle might be awarded a larger share of spoils than even the warchief themselves. May even be given choice of what happens to captives. If they are...indentured." For a brief moment, Arcea's eyes leave Yasha's own, focusing on 'something' in the difference. Likely, simply so she did not have to meet the squirrel's gaze. Cal'Drua often took 'slaves' during successful raids, and though some were eventually either released or joined the tribe themselves, others were consigned to work and - eventually - to being a meal for some lucky man or woman who didn't deem their contribution as being enough "...Or, if they are...um...well, you know." Eyes still averted, Arcea swirls her fingertip around her bare tummy, hinting at where other captives might end up outright.<br/><br/>Yasha's continued conversation, though, seems to once more brighten the young warrior feline's mood, her ears once more perking up high atop her head and her long, powerful tail settling back into a gentle, leisurely sway behind her, a huuuuuuge, toothy grin spreading it's way across her face "Oh, don't think 'In the Cal'Drua' didn't cross my mind. In fact, might as well resign yourself to more than a few jokes along those lines, M'lady fluffbottom!" Laughing softly, Arcea whirls on her heels and enters the tavern, pausing just inside to take stock of the surroundings.<br/><br/>It was...surprisingly fancy. Not as fancy as other villages she'd visited (especially those closer to the edge of so-called civilization, where un-permitted merchants could be raided easier), but it was a far cry above the longhouse in her own village, situated a little closer to the center of Cal'Drua territory "Ooooh, fancy. Remind you of home, Celrie?" Arcea murmurs quietly, just barely audible over the gentle tune flowing from the single 'bard' seated nearby.<br/><br/>Eyes alighting upon the two mechanical instruments first, Arcea tilts her head at the little marvel of modernization. Instruments that played themselves. Such things always mystified her, and though she'd been shown the innerworkings of such machines before, her mind simply could not wrap around the complex nature of even the most simple musicbox. It simply 'worked'. Scratching at her furry belly, Arcea uses the little distraction to fight off the urge to investigate closer, and possibly disrupt the music. It's only after taking in the instruments that her gaze flits to the girl herself, a broad smile creasing her muzzle. A Cal'Drua! No wonder the song sounded so familiar - it was something akin to a nursery song she'd heard during her early youth countless times!<br/><br/>Casting a little smile and a wave to her tribesmate, Arcea hummed along to the music, every bit as upbeat as the Cal'Drua bard...but with none of the skill. It's almost thankful when the bartender interrupts her, gathering her attention. For a few seconds, Arcea merely eyes the man, taking note of his various scars gained in who knows what ways. Admittedly...there was something about a man with scars that was...appealing. That appeal, in the case of the stoat, lasted until he opened his mouth and turned from stoat to weasel "No offense taken." At the 'praise', Arcea does actually puff up a little bit, holding herself a little taller and subtly smoothing out a few rustled patches of fur where she'd readjusted her belt "Though, please...Arcea. My formal name is...uncalled for in such circumstances." Taking no time to be bidden to have a seat, Arcea practically bounds up to the bar and settles herself down on a stool with girlish glee, resting her elbows on the fancy wood and holding her head up with her hands "Well, Mister Cross...a drink DOES sound lovely. Something stout! Um...not squirrel-sized though. I need a warrior's drink!"<br/><br/>It's hard for Yasha to miss the subtle curling of Arcea's lips and the little 'glance' cast her way, and it's pretty clear there was no offense meant, but more of a playful challenge, or a little teasing jab at her smaller size "And, Mister Cross...you'd do well to remember that if there's Non-Cal'Drua camps this close to Cal'Drua lands, they're likely allowed by the circle. Otherwise, they'd likely have been raided long ago. Your...overzealous 'friends' might do well to not step on the tails of those who've been granted rights." For a brief moment, Arcea's tone takes on a more serious inflection, her slitted eyes narrowing at the stoat. It's a look that proves to be 'in passing', as Arcea's demeanor changes once again back to mirthful and downright playful "Would love to hear of these so-called opportunities, though. An' what we'd be getting out of it. I estimate injecting a little wealth into the...the...."<br/><br/>The feline trails off, ears wilting as she desperately struggles to recall the word for 'economy' "The...ec...no...the...grr. The town." She finally says, a little huffily "would go a long way into getting things going around here. If we're in charge, the first thing we need to do is make the town prosper. From there, we can make proper defenses, better housing, so forth. Course, uh...admit, I'm...not exactly sure on how to do that. Other than...take shiny things and make them our shiny things."