((Been sick, so this has been delayed a bit. Not better yet, but hopefully the quality doesn't suffer too much. x3 ))<br/><br/>There is a near-palpable air of aggravation surrounding Drodjee, though the half-orc deigns to keep her mouth shut, even when Johan - and thereafter, Alura - start talking about how his orders might just be as effective coming from her butt. Still, bound in Cyria's silk and snugly secured, with no weapon at her disposal, she doesn't make a fuss, merely grunting under her breath and casting her gaze to the side. She does mumble something, but whatever it is, is lost in the conversation with the guards.<br/><br/>The raccoon, after casting a little glance towards Sasara, smirks slightly, his black-capped ears flicking back atop his head just the slightest bit "Be that as it may, there's lotsa people with lotsa gots and goddesses...if we just let them go around willy-nilly doin' what they wanted, would be quite a piece of anarchy, mm?" After a few seconds, he lets his gaze trail downwards along her body (stopping at her chest for a bit longer than required), until it reaches the still-shifting bulge of the infernal-blooded human halfway down her length "...Though, if the half-orc there--" He motions with a jerk of his head towards Drodjee, who merely scowls in response "-- is any indication, can certainly imagine whoever was with her earned it. Course, y'know, there's channels to go through for this sort--"<br/><br/>The procurement of coinage stops the raccoon mid-sentence, his eyes lighting and the smirk upon his face turning into a full-fledged smile "Aaah, yes...well, as I was about to say, it involves quite a bit of paperwork." When Johan tosses the coins to him, he clicks one against the wall, and - seemingly satisfied - tucks it away into his belt. The other, he tosses to the shield-wielding guard opposite him, a human woman who looks like she'd been in quite a few scraps, judging by the criss-cross of scars across her cheeks and neck. She catches it and deftly slips it into her own belt, nodding her head.<br/><br/>"...And I'm sure this will be plenty to ease the process. Yes, don't worry, I'll take care of this for you. Y'to know that sellin' folks in Tyval is illegal...unless you have the correct papers for it. So, jus' don't get caught doin' that, yeah?" Stepping to the side, he lightly raps on the gate, three times in an almost musical succession. With a creak, the door swings inwards, the heavily-rusted hinges groaning under the strain "Well, welcome back to Tyval, then. Stay out of trouble. We could do with less of that around here." With a sweep of his hand, he ushers the small group beyond the gates, and once everyone has passed the threshhold, two additional guards on the interior ease the gate back shut, warily looking up at the damaged hinges as though fully expecting the door to fall off any moment.<br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://s32.photobucket.com/user/RylaMinora/media/1451732086347_zpsd0rscuce.jpg.html"><img alt="Image" src="http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d18/RylaMinora/1451732086347_zpsd0rscuce.jpg"/></a><br/><br/>Port Tyval is what one might expect in the eastern reaches - not exceptionally well kept or maintained, and just generally 'dirty'. Not the WORST place the little group had ever been to, but it was certainly amongst the 'less kept' places that was under the banner of the crown. Punishment tended to be harsh, and those that did not end up filling some guard (or thug's) stomach, tended to be dealt with severely and quickly. Of course, even in such a unpleasant place, there were certain areas of wonder. The Marble Castle that rose in the distance was a sight to behold ,even dirty and worn by constant battering by the harsh sea air. During it's hayday, the fortified position had held off countless pirates and invading armies, it's monstrous cannons (likely now rusted and worn), a sight to behold when firing. It also boasted a fine Inn - The Gilded Rose - of which supposedly had an informant waiting for them to whisk them away to their next task.<br/><br/>The sun sinking below the horizon brought with it the city's 'night life', and the first thing noticed is that people seemed to be traveling in groups, an unspoken hint at just how wiley night-life in the near-lawless town could be. Hardly past the gates, a large ring of people had assembled, apparently watching some sort of fight between them. It was hard to see at a distance, but one man stood above the crowd on a little pedestal, hawking over bets and shouting out the various back-and-forths the fight had, building the little crowd to higher levels of excitement. The guards standing around lazily nearby seem to be purposefully turning an eye to the likely-illegal street fighting, busying themselves with whatever might have their attention.<br/><br/>Picking up the conversation from outside the gates, Yumina pats her stomach, elicting a little, muffled whimper from within - hardly audible over the churning of her stomach steadily working on her enormous dinner "Heh, Johan...y'got my word, if I'm around when some brigand eats you, I'll take it upon myself as a sworn duty to turn you into cat-food. Or...well, whoever you end up on, anyway. Assuming it's not tonight. I'm stuffed." Jerking a thumb towards the little crowd gathered nearby, she continues "Streetfighting. Popular here. Folks come from the surrounding farms to try their hand at it. Can be fatal, course that's generally only in the higher categories. Good way to make coin, if y'fancy fighting. Course, good way to end up padding a belly, too, if you fight too much. They pay the guards off, and folks make their fortunes or lose them betting."