Bar fight (1 on 1)

[mezz09]

Rauko saw the man grin as he kicked the spuds, and held in a grin of his own. As Rauko slammed into the long haired man, he slid on the sack and fell. Unfortunately, he was not expecting what came next, and it happened too fast for him to react. Rauko had ducked behind the shield for the inevitable flailing sword, but as a hand clutched the side of the shield, it pulled him down too. Rather than allowing himself to fall into the path of the flailing blade, he dropped the shield, abandoning his strongest weapon in terms of both physical and magical.

In the closing of that eventful moment, alot happened still. First, the flailing arm got Rauko in the side, leaving a cut. it was less than half an inch deep, and he'd had worse, but it pushed the balance far past making it a worthwhile first attack from Rauko. Then Rauko realised how much better he could have made the attack simply by using his pyromancy to heat the shield when the tall man had grabbed it, burning his hand and putting it out of action.

Finally, as if adding insult to injury, there was a loud splash followed by searing pain in the fresh cut and the stench of ammonia. Rauko winced and fell to the ground, momentarily unable to hold himself upright, due to the salty liquid flowing into the cut. He didn't need to look up to know what had happened. There was a call of apology from above and the sound of a window closing. Rauko spat, and dripped with the contents of a chamber-pot. Must have been from an inn.

[Of Two Minds]

What little air Syrian had managed to draw back in after Ralph’s shield assault rushed out of the man like a bursting balloon as he tumbled backwards into the alley muck. He had reacted without thought to grab at Ralph’s shield as he fell and was surprised to see that the brute had relinquished it so easily. His mind boggled even more was that he had actually managed to slash the man while flailing wildly in his descent. Sergeant Lorre had often cursed his bloody luck and how his blade often found its target most easily when he wasn’t trying. It only encouraged laxness in him, the Sergeant used to say, as Lorre used to equate Syrian’s jovial moods with laziness and lack of purpose. The swordsman wondered what Lorre would think if he could just see Syrian now.

But of all the things that had occurred within the span of the last three breaths, what really got to Syrian was the sight of his rough-and-tumble opponent rolling about in a fresh wash of excrement. The hastily tossed contents of the chamber pot had washed over where Syrian had been standing just before Ralph ran into him and had in fact smeared onto his boots as he lay in a heap. In a way, he reflected, he had Ralph to thank for pushing him over, as if the big man had randomly decided to take the foul blow destined for Syrian. Unable to stop himself, Syrian found his entire body instantly wracked with a fit of raucous laughter.

“I don’t think that went nearly as well as either of us wanted,” he said, laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes. Syrian pushed Ralph’s shield into a nearby bag of trash and rolled back to his feet, sparing another glance from his flattened opponent to check on Jeren. Still in the pub’s doorway, even the stoic Jeren had fat tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks. A new wave of stench assaulted Syrian’s nostrils from the most recent addition to the alley’s populace, forcing the swordsman to cover his nose with the sleeve of his less unwholesomely spattered arm to ward it off.

“Somehow I think that the grand honor has left this brawl,” Syrian said to Ralph, still holding his sword at his side though he left the point of the blade down in the muck, “what do you think?”

[Of Two Minds]

Seeing as my partner in this hasn't been on the site in over a year and that we were basically finished anyways, I did some minor bunnying to close out the thread. If there's a problem with that I can go back to waiting forever.

Ralph’s eyes shot daggers at Syrian as the big man pushed himself back to his feet, wordlessly grabbed his shield from the trash pile, and then stormed past a very surprised Jeren and into the bar. A half second later the two swordsmen could hear a chorus of screams and a flurry of activity from the inn.

”Well I thought that went extremely well,” Jeren announced with a slow clap. A look of disgust crossed the stoic swordsman’s face as he scraped the sole of his boot along the side of the step, praying that he could dislodge whatever it was that had stuck to him when he had side-stepped to avoid the somewhat hygiene impaired bully who had stormed past him.

“Indeed it did,” Syrian saluted Jeren with a flourish of his blade and then spread his arms wide. “To the victor go the spoils.”

”I really do believe that you’ve gotten enough spoilage for one day,” Jeren waved a finger, indicating the slimy alley filth smeared across Syrian’s back and elbows.

“Touche,” he replied, wiping his blade clean on the non-filthy side of a bag of garbage. Satisfied that the blade was completely clean, Syrian sheathed it and turned his attention to the rest of the muck smeared over his body. He threw his hands in the air after a few cursory swipes at the stains, satisfied that they weren’t going to come out that way.

“Perfect, just perfect,” Jeren sighed. “All I wanted was one cold drink and now I’m stuck with the Trash King. He looked at the door to the inn behind him. ”I wonder…”

All of a sudden the door exploded outwards in a flurry of brooms, wet mops, cleaning wenches, and presumably a very unhappy Ralph. “Time to go,” Syrian yelled, grabbing Jeren’s elbow and dragging him out of the alley before the other swordsman could be run down by the squawking brigade behind them.

“And stay out until you clean up, you filthy sot,” the voice of the bartender roared from the inn’s back door before the wooden portal slammed shut.

“I guess that means that we’re not going to be getting that ale then,” Jeren muttered regretfully.

“Cheer up pal,” Syrian stretched his arms over his head with a yawn and then settled one around Jeren’s shoulders, sharing the filth that he had acquired much to Jeren’s annoyance. “I think I saw a stream we can bathe in about five miles back.”

Jeren groaned.

[Duffy]

Of Two Minds – Condensed Rubric
Featuring Of Two Minds & Mezz09

Story (15/30)

Character (13/30)

Writing (12/30)

Wild Card (4/10)

Total 44/100

Spoils:

Of Two Minds receives 308 xp and 100 gold.

mezz09 receives 264 xp and 100 gold.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.