Could be, could be indeed.  At the moment, I'm looking for some more ale (Varet downs the last of his drink and sets the mug on the table), some friendly conversation, and something to do that keeps me busy and earns some coin.  Are you good for any of those?

 Varet, by the way.  He extends his hand to shake.

Having returned from the beach where she had washed up, Alex will find her way into the Flask. Walking up to the barkeep as she does every time she comes here "Anyone wash up on shore lately? and the usual drink." as she slides 3 silver across the bar.

"Hmm, nope, no one new," Scary Terry speaks roughly to the young lass at his counter. He takes the coin, pockets it and moves to the tap to pour a cool, frothy ale for his patron. "Well, I guess that's a lie. Captain Abraham over there, we only see him once a month or so. Usually a lot moreso 'round this time I 'spose." Terry nods towards a gruff old man in a yellow overcoat with matching boots sits alone in the corner, mulling over his own thoughts along a pint of drink and a pipe full of canaib herb, the aroma mixing potently with the already-cluttered tavern air. Terry returns to lazily cleaning his flagons and plates, looking up occasionally at the small crowd that has formed in his bar, before turning back to the young human girl. "What 'bout you? See ya lookin' on the beach oft. Not 'boutta press ya, but... any luck bitin'?" The tavern was filled to the brim with the scent of herbs and spices, thick rums and fine pure spirits. A few tables tossed playing cards around, cheering and moaning along with their games.

Seldor. He returns the handshake. "Unfortunately, I have nothing in the way of ale, or in a task that could pass your time and fill your pockets, as I myself am looking for a means of employment."

Conversation it is then, says Varet agreeably.  If there's a waiter in the bar, he'll try to catch their eye and order two more ales:  Persuasion: 19, otherwise he'll go to the bar to get them.  I myself am recently arrived in Port Nevara, and have few tales to tell of the town so far, having barely left this tavern in the last three days.  Mostly I've been reflecting that sailing through the Storm's Harrowing was perhaps not my best idea yet, and I'm guess you're thinking along the same lines, am I right?

The 'tender walks his way over to your table, his stubby legs carrying him as quickly as he's willing - which isn't very fast. As he sets your ales down, his eyes widen, and he suddenly becomes a bit more animated. "By shit, ye traveled through the storms? And cor, you're here in me bar sure enough, whole an' all. Might'n you two be adventurers?" He takes a look around his tavern, appraising his workload and nodding at a few patrons before returning his attention to the table. "Didn't mean to drop no eaves, honest, just most company who ride through are the borin' type. Sellin' stuff and luggin' it 'cross the water. So, er... got any tales?"

"Yes, I really chose the wrong time of year to decide to go sailing and now I'm stuck here because I spent almost all of my gold on a boat that's all but wrecked. But getting burned because I made a bad decision is sort of what I do" He says with a chuckle.

Seldor gladly takes the ale from the inquisitive bartender. "I've certainly done my fair share of walking the earth. I suppose that's enough qualification for being an adventurer. As for tales, perhaps I can regale you with the story of how I was conned into buying a ship for three times it's worth and desperately praying that it would hold through the storms." 

"Ahhhhhhh, sounds thrilling! I've some drinks to run, but I'll be 'round in a jif," Terry ended, while scurrying about at a now quickened pace, collecting tankards and refilling them, returning them to their patrons. One of the card-tables suddenly roars with emotion - clearly an intense game is happening here. It seems like a lively enough crowd for a small show, perhaps.

Your ship is 'all but wrecked', eh?, says Varet as Terry leaves.  As I see it, that's one step better than 'wrecked', like my poor, sunken Camelia.  He takes a swig of ale, then watches as the bartender moves around the room.  I haven't asked the fellow about work yet, he says offhandedly.  Three days ago, I was so weak that the rats in the cellar might have eaten me alive.  I wonder what passes for work in a place like this.  I'm a decent shot with a bow, he nods to the side where his longbow is standing against the wall within easy reach, and figured there might be some hunting around, I guess. 

Thrash walls up to the doors of the tavern and throws them open hard with both hands. "Hey Hey Hey! Sea dogs!" The large tabaxi will say with his arms outstretched wide and his mane flowing behind him. "You know me! I am good at two things... drinking ale and killing.. and I am nearly out of coin.. so who has a job for old Thrash!" The orange haired tabaxi will say plopping hard on to a stool with his arms stretched out on the counter behind him shooting everyone in the Flask a big smile, his golden canine glinting in the candle light. A moment later the tabaxi will turn his huge furry head over his shoulder "Two ales my man!" Thrash will say with a smile before returning to his sprawled out position against the counter,  the huge scars crisscrossing his chest on full display.

"I'm better with a crossbow, but unfortunately I don't have one on me right now. But I do know how to use a rapier, which I imagine is valuable to someone. How about we check out this card game? The other patrons seem to be rather attracted to it, and perhaps we might be able to join in and make a few gold.

Scary Terry looks you up and down, and frantically grabs a drink for you.

(( take some time to interact one another, I will be indisposed for the next few hours ))

Varet nods to Seldor in agreement, picks up his bow and his ale, and follows him to the card game.  Let's see what kind of offers our new tabaxi friend stirs up as well.  Maybe we can join him.  Or undercut him.

Hey Swarmsie, could you describe what Alex looks like?

Thrash will turn around and grab both ales and quickly down them both one after the other before slamming them down on the counter hard. After wiping his mouth with the back of his thick furry arm, he will glance over to Alex and sitting at the bar next to him and give her a playful punch on the shoulder. "How about you.. you been in here about as much as me the last couple days... You help with anything?" He will say with a smile, brushing his mane over his shoulder. "If yer lookin for someone, I can help ya out if you happen to have some coin... or maybe some ale" He will say with a wink and a glint of his favorite tooth.

At a table not too far from the centre of the bar sat three figures. Two male, one female. Two of them were siblings. They were besieged by four people, this time all men, who curled up over the wooden surface to bear witness to the events and provide a quasi-live form of narration, with the lag that is to be expected of twenty years of hard drinking and spending one's time surrounded by vast expanses of nothingness.

The pair laughed, chatted and drank, carefree. Clearly, they were playing together, and were winning. Possibly as a result. But did it matter? Of course not. Everyone's eyes were focused on the other man. The loser. He sat vaguely straight, with powerful shoulders and auburn, untamed hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, poking out here and there in ways that seemed to defy gravity. He looked unkempt but kind of pulling it off? Who knew. A cluster of empty mugs were spread beside him, some toppled over, no doubt linked to his eyes, where his iridescent, sunburst-like irises seemed to be strangled by a myriad of thin red veins. His left hand nursed an empty mug, that occasionally clinked, or clanked, and in his right were a handful of cards. He stared at these things with an indescribable stare, as though they were the most precious thing in the world and absolute filth, all at once.

The final round of bets. Then the siblings' cards graced the table. First his, then hers. Here, the hint of a smile graced the Paladin's face. Ve placed his cards on the table, nonchalantly as per usual and moved to scoop up his winnings. The man was damn near blasé. A complete opposite reaction to what should be expected, considering he'd just spent the past few minutes losing. Big. This one major pot seemed to recoup most of his losses, but the duo had been betting with his money for a long, long time. Now, at his hard earned break-even, was the time take his minute losses and walk away. Ever the graceful 'winner', the man gathered up the coin in his purse.

The smile, however, appeared only in his face. For none of the watchers particularly cared. No mariner gave a rat's arse about some guy making his money back. These things were only worth watching when blood or despair were either imminent or already here. Now, this whole thing felt like little more than a wasted venture, and all of the previous excitement poofed, in the face of this dishevelled man's happiness. Not even bothering to conceal their grumbles, the crowd dissipated, visibly displeased with this newcomer regaining enough coin to not go hungry.

"Pleasure doing business." - said Ve, offering the two before him a wink and a wave before standing up and moving closer to the bar to grab one final one for the road. The people here weren't like those back in the frost-lands. It had taken him a long, long minute to figure that out. Luckily, they couldn't drink like them, either. Otherwise he'd be done for. By the time he reached the counter, the air around the man felt like it was warmer by a few degrees, and hearing him sigh in relief one could easily tell why - though the booze certainly did its fair share of the heavy lifting.

Grabbing one more for the road, the man was surprised by this bipedal half-naked cat-like being, with furrowed brow and yellow teeth. What the **** were they putting in this drink? Staring for an instant, the man would blink a few times, shake his head slightly, and then cock it to the side upon realising that whatever this stuff was, it wasn't wearing off.

((Apologies for the edits. Lost this post twice, and ended up forgetting half of what I originally had. Hopefully it's not too choppy or poorly written.))

"Sounds like a plan." And Seldor will get up from his table and join the rather talkative Tabaxi at the table. "Name's Seldor, I happened to hear that you were in search of a job earlier and while I'm not able to give you one, my acquaintance and I (points to Varet) are also short on coin, but he is skilled with the bow and I know how to wield a blade. I think that with our combined talents, the three of us would be excellent business partners. What say you?"

Thrash would turn his head from the woman next to him to the half-elf in front of him. The tabaxi would take a moment to rotate his large head around, setting off a number of loud pops and cracks before standing to his entire 6.2 ft (before the mane / fluff). Looking the man up and down, Thrash would eventually allow a large toothy grin to spread across his face. "Sounds good to me my friend! The name is Trash...  It is more than a name actually... more like a hint of things to come if ya make me angry" He will say slapping the elf hard on the shoulder. "I am pretty good with my hands and a blade personally... but I am willing to do just about anything and everything if the coin is right!" The tabaxi would say loudly, his gruff voice booming throughout the tavern. Thrash would then slouch back down against the bar and tap his claws against the beer soaked counter. The tabaxi will look from Seldor to his companion nearby... and move his tongue to suck on his golden canine... something he does often when thinking. A moment later he will take both hands and rake them through his thick orange mane before standing up "Alright! Looks like we got a crew forming over here? Anyone else wanting to join? sounds like we are all well equipped and eager for some coin..." The Tabaxi will shout walking through the tavern with his arms spread wide.

Still feeling warm and exuding heat and vigour, but strangely devoid of reddened cheeks or perspiration, Ve would be pulled from his daze by this tale of coin and crew. Standing at 6'3, close in height to the feline, or perhaps even a tad taller, this tanned individual, with shoulder-length hair pulled back with a curl or two poking forward, a full beard and three bronze-like rings around different areas of his left ear, this large, fit man with a longsword and shield by his side would approach the conspicuous, pointy-eared pair.

"You have a ship?" - he'd ask in his baritone voice, an eyebrow cocked at the sight before him. As he awaited an answer, occasionally and hopefully surreptitiously, he'd steal a glance at this strange furred creature, intrigued by its appearance.