For the moment, let me apologize for my lack of activity in the guild lately. I haven't been feeling particularly in the mood to roleplay, or even get online, so Gaia has fallen by the wayside. Here's to making this move again:

"Look, I told you, if you can't behave, I'll have to send you out," Brine was pointing out, looking down at his frustrating patron. He'd been persistently pesky, clearly didn't understand the rules, and was, ultimately, just a bit too full of himself to be easily liked. At this point, three of Vadacrawl's most consistent patrons had already volunteered to dispatch him, two of whom were known to possess uncanny strength within their thin frames. It was against his preferences to allow customers deal with other, less friendly customers, because it might begin to seem like he was prejudiced, which was the last thing Brine wanted to be known for. So he settled for lecturing the man, and distantly hoped that the fool would see reason and simply leave on his own.

Meeko, over on the dance floor, seemed to be having a grand old time. The large creature's fur brushed against the others on the dance floor who didn't give him a berth, most of whom soon after moved away, uncomfortable with the spark pricks of static that seemed to discharge from him constantly. Relatively small beside him was the vampire woman - at least, Brine assumed from years of experience that she was likely a vampire - dancing with him casually, seeming to be ever-so-slightly distracted, probably by the smell of her food all around her.

And, of course, there were the other people slowly filtering in as the night picked up. One of them seemed to have a creature with him, too small to identify from this distance, but which Brine thought might somehow be distantly related to the Haprin, judging by the general sentience of its movements.

It was while he was distracted, taking stock of everything happening inside his place of business, that he realized the man across the bar was chanting in a guttural tone. His hand was resting suspiciously underneath the bar, and Brine cursed as the drunken b*****d brought his hand up, bearing a soft-ball sized orb of fire in his palm. In a moment, the thing was being tossed at him, and Brine swatted it away with the back of his hand, singeing the hair.

The drunk was glaring at him, clearly stupid enough to think that tossing a fireball could be taken as lightly as the throw of an impromptu punch. Brine tapped the top of his bar with a fingertip, staring at him. "Bad move, boy," he said. "Bad move."

Off on the dance floor, Meeko was watching, his fur bristling with electricity. He glanced at Rayne, let out a feral growl that seemed to carry dozens of sentences with explanation in it, and then was replaced by smoke as he vanished.