Battle at your leisure folks. This thread must be completed by January 9th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.
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Battle at your leisure folks. This thread must be completed by January 9th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.
The musty smell of the bar seemed to sink into her every pore. It wasn't the type of place Kyla Orlouge typically frequented, but after a long journey the limply hanging wooden sign outside had seemed like a lighthouse beckoning her home. Her boots were dusty, caked with red dirt from the streets outside and her hair hadn't laid flat for days. The nearby river offered little help, the humidity leaving the girl never quite feeling dry.
All in all she was a mess, her bright blue eyes just about the only thing that she would consider normal. The filthy bathroom mirror told her all of this and more. Her cheeks were bright pink from the heat, perhaps even a bit of a burn, only time would tell. She pulled her hair into a tight bun and used a towel from her saddlebag to wipe the dirt from her boots. It wasn't perfect, but it should do for a few drinks in this shithole.
Satisfied, she gave herself a smile before opening the creaking door and finding her way to the bar. There wasn't a large crowd, mostly just a traveler or two having a few drinks before crashing for the evening. A few whores intermingled, hoping to make a few bucks before the men sobered up enough to count their coins. In one corner a large group crowed around a table, shouts of "drink! drink! drink!" filled the air and brought a smile to the mystic's face. On another night, another journey, she might have joined them, losing herself to the laughter and wine. Tonight though, she just wanted to have a drink and find herself a nice bed for the evening.
She sat upon a stool marked with a blade Trisha and Thomas Forever. She gave a big of a grin as she brought her ass down upon their dreams. She caught the bartender's attention and ordered something written on the specials sign. She'd never heard of it before but the blonde green-eyed stranger promised it would make one forget the exhaustion of the road.
Her eyes focused on a group of men in the corner, watching a girl dance slowly to music only she could hear. Beyond them sat a frail old man, his hand shaking as he brought an amber bottle to his lips.
The clink of the glass upon the bar pulled her focus back to the barman. She raised the cup, admiring the bright orange liquid that danced in the dim light. "To Trisha and Thomas!" She whispered before pouring the fiery contents into her mouth. It burned on its way down, leaving a satisfying tingle in her throat. The barman raised an eyebrow, "Another?"
Kyla smiled, "Absolutely."
“Chug, chug, chug, chug!” It was a chorus of noise, a blur of slurs as Jensen pounded down the mug filled with ale letting the foam drip down the sides of his cheeks splashing across his black shirt making damp wet marks. He smacked his lips slamming his fist on the table making the graveyard of tumblers jump, followed by the thud of his mug on the oak wood. Jensen let out a roar of approval, scattering wet drips of beer flavored saliva out as he pointed to the three other men around him. The grouping of men scattered coins on the table as the new comers looked to the immortal with a sportsman like nod and begrudging respect.
“Can’t out pace me, can’t out drink me, but by all means keep paying me to test your mettle!” Jensen knew his voice rose with the fire in his belly, his asinine giggles making him feel like he was going to battle against the Breaker. Many a bar whore had come by to Jensen, to be rebuked by his advances as he chastised them for making their parents sob in their grave. Many a warrior was laid low by a stiff punch to the gut in just the right area knocking their wind out, and when the crowd learned he was a member of the Cell tournament, and a finalist at that, the chance to drink with a legend was too much to pass.
So it was no surprise Jensen ran out of coin for his vacation faster than he anticipated. So he turned the good times into a drinking game and doubled his money than what he started with. Success led him to feel confident in his words, and they spoke louder than actions after his seventh shot of an “End Times.” The drink was made of the most potent drinks, and tasted like liquid rage down the throat. Truly no other shot in the world of Althanas could get the immortal blitzed faster.
“More!” The knight bellowed, slapping the table as the crowd cheered, the other two contenders twirling their wrists to bring more to them. The Bartender looked up from his conversation with a customer with a dirty look, but nodding none the less. Jensen rose, stretching his arms letting his jacket fall to the chair revealing all his hidden weapons on him. He stalked forwards reminding the table members he knew exactly how many of each weapon he had and where to place them if he found them missing. One drunken step led to another, a half twirl half step later and Jensen fell into a chair grinning like a fool and chuckling as the men called for him to hurry it up.
He stood again, fixing his shirt with a pat and turning sharply back to the tender. He braved the final gap to the bar, stumbling into a bar seat next to the patron that the Bartender was talking to and he placed his hand in his palm, looking to the one before him.
“Y-You got a nice pair,” Jensen felt a burp come on and let it pass under the crook of his arm. “Pair of boots. Don’t see quality like t-that anymore.” Jensen nodded his head to agree with himself as he looked to the person in front of him a little more carefully, noticing she did, in fact, have a nice pair. He felt the liquid fire in his body swarm to his brain as he felt a familiar feeling come over him, and unsure what to make of it he did the only thing he knew how to do. “Can you buy me a drink, I’m pretty?”
“Oy, mate, that’s the other way around!” the man behind Jensen laughed as he nodded to the immortal, saluting him with his beer.
“I’m not gay, but thank you,” Jensen said with a kiss and a wink. He turned back to the woman who reminded him…of someone, his brain was lucky to even recall the familiarity with her. “Y-you have- the prettiest eyes in the w-w-,” Jensen released another burp, not so discreetly, into the air. “Fuck it. Fuck me?”
The bartender sighed loudly rubbing the bridge of his nose as the man behind the immortal chuckled nearly collapsing in his seat “Cause if you don’t, then it’s the Scara Braen behind me and he ain’t no Duffers. I miss Duffers. I should send the fruit basket a fruit basket….full of fruit…He might like that.” Jensen rambled as he returned his attention to the woman before him. “What’cha got there?” He sniffed the air. “Smells like whiskey, I don’t like whiskey. It makes little Jensen Junior afraid of the light. You want to meet Jensen Jr.?”
At this point the bartender had to excuse himself as he laughed into his rag cleaning a cup, the man behind the knight had at last collapsed out of his seat as Jensen looked to him. “Y-y-you’re drunk. You shouldn’t ride a horse like that. May collide into another horse. Gi-give me your reigns, man.”
“Make him stop!” The man screamed with laughter. “I’m gonna die!”
Jensen flashed a smile back to the familiar face and winked to her with both eyes and he burped, more discreetly this time, before he gave her a heart warming smile. “S-So what’do’ya say about ditching these los-sers and…um…” Jensen turned to his mug of ale set aside for him and downed it, chugging the whole thing in one long drought spilling foam all over his shirt. When he finished he tossed the cup onto the table and turned, lucidly, back to the woman.
“Let me start over,” he said with a slur. “The name is Sexy McSexyness. I am the greatest thing since Smexy. I got a party in my pants and I lost the invite, can I have yours?”
The man plopped ungracefully into the seat beside her and Kyla did her best to look the other way. She kept her eyes tightly locked on the barkeep, pleading for him to save her silently. It wasn't until he spoke that the mystic glanced his way. That voice. She turned her head just in time to get a face full of burp and scrunched her nose in disgust. She kept waiting for his moment of realization, that tiny voice inside his thick head to place just who was sitting next to him. Instead he continued, his little lackeys in the background egging him on. At mention of Jensen Jr. the mystic laid a purse of coin on the bar and stood, steadying herself against the cool marble.
“Let me start over,” Kyla faced him once more, sure that an apology must be coming. “The name is Sexy McSexyness. I am the greatest thing since Smexy. I got a party in my pants and I lost the invite, can I have yours?”
Her eyes narrowed as her heart threatened to jump from her chest. Anger and hurt coursed through her veins and it took all her focus to keep a knife from forming in her right hand. She took a deep breath. "You'd like my invite to the party in your pants?" Her voice came out calm though everything insider her wanted to scream. Realizing their buddy's blunder several of the less intoxicated men began to laugh once more.
"By all means, take it. I've been there, done that, and honestly, it didn't really live up to the hype." She slid her bag over her shoulder and walked away with every intention of heading off in search of an inn.
"Jensen, who was that bitch?" A large man said through his fits of hysterics.
She froze, waiting for a reply. The immortal didn't even take the time to think it through, "I have no idea." Instantly the encounter seemed to leave his mind, he motioned to the tender. "Another mug?"
Kyla turned, her face crimson. She strode back towards the bar, noting that several of Jensen's 'friends' backed away when they noticed her approach. "Jensen Ambrose?"
The immortal turned just as Kyla reached to slap him with all her might. "Learn some fucking manners!"