League A (Division 2): Good for nothing Captain vs Ceidon

[Solar Haven]

Quest at your own pace. This thread must be completed by January 12th, 2014 at 12:00 AM EST. If you finish early, please submit it for judging per usual.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

And he was back in a bar once again. The red-eyed man sat at the bar, on a rickety stool, in a dusty, worn-out tavern. Heavy set bags hung under his tired eyes and his face seemed drained of vigor. His jet black hair fell in front of his eyes, disheveled and in disregard. His old, blackened, brown coat hung off the stool next to him as he let it air out.

"I think I have a problem John," Victor sighed, nursing his drink.

"How so?" John the bartender asked.

"I don't know man, it just seems like I'm always in a bar. . ." Victor took a sip of the refreshing brew and let out a heavy sigh. "Then, like someone is out to get me, I always get into some kind of crazy, spontaneous yet seemingly planned adventure that ends in nothing changing for me and no resolution."

"I think you're just imagining things," John smiled, cleaning the inside of a dusty glass with a rag.

"Seriously! last month I was in a bar, then I walked like five minutes, met a half-orc named Steppenwolf, fought an army and used some magic wish granting thane balls to achieve nothing!"

"Oh. . ." John stared at Victor, unsure what to say next.

A man sat on the stool next to Victor, clad in golden armor. A dragon protruded from the chest, it's very visage instilling fear and admiration into any who saw it. The grim expression on his face told a tale of woe and battle. The man raised a gauntleted hand to call the bartender.

"I need a drink, and make it a strong one. . ." his deep, raspy voice began as John filled a glass with a dark liquor, "when I tell you my tale you'll see, it may be my las-"

But his words were cut short. The drink coming towards him was slapped out of John's hand by Victor who stood, yelling.

"Hell no!" the red-eyed man pointed towards the door, "Get. Out!"

"But I am Sir Claiger of the Canatetian army and I need your hel-"

"No! Find another bar! And another protagonist!"

Victor sat back down and took up his glass. The man stood, turned to walk out, but paused to voice one more plea. But the red-eyed man's hand came up, like an emblem resembling stop.

"I am in no mood!"

"I'm telling you man," Victor continued, as though the spectacle had never happened, "I think I should just finish my drink and get the hell out of here before I get roped into some other nonsense."

"Well don't forget to pa-" John started but was cut off.

"In fact, I should go," Victor rushed, downing his glass of whiskey and throwing his coat over his shoulder when the door flew open. "Damn. . ."