Sailors Fighting in the Dance Hall

[Philomel]

"Pllegghhhh!"

Philomel dragged out her keris dagger, turning up her nose as Veridian scampered back to her. He was limping on one leg, having landed on it from the fall, and was looking like a drenched kitten, all mopey and upset.

"You stink!" she exclaimed, staring at him.

The fox form Earth Spirit just gazed sadly at her, after his long trip of dodging past falling bodies and random swinging blades. He had not seen her through his eyes but he had mentally been able to map where she had gone, ducking around a thrown fist and a toxic purple mist.

The place she had found to take a moment's restbite was clever. It was near the door where he had left her, and a booth by profession. Yet, the unconcious forms of three men were draped over the table and left hanging over the edge, so there was a sort of curtain concealing the underneath from anything. Most people were too busy, anyway, knocking each other senseless to notice the gile form of the faun creeping by and crawling into this space. Now she sat there, cross-legged and nursing her head where the brigand man had kicked her. It was not too sore, just a dull ache but the effect it had to her eyesight annoyed her. There was a blurred image in the corner of her right eye that would not budge, no matter how much she dug in a knuckle and wiped. It was not ideal for fighting, especially not ideal for hunting a mutt.

The mongrel has a power. Veridian said, struggling to not bound into her arms. His eyes were wide, pitiable, but clearly she did not want to comfort him, to soothe his vomit-soaked fur. A bark of energy. It came out with ... his dinner.

"You stink of beer? The mongrel has beer for dinner?" she gawaffed, flipping the knife in her hand.

Veridian growled a little, very quiet compared to the raucous outside their makeshift tent.

Philomel paused a moment, frowned.

"Right, I will try this time. You stay here and ... clean yourself off."

Its not funny, the fox muttered, moving around to let her out. Politely, he gave her a very wide berth.

"Of course not," she sniggered, barely holding in her laughter.

[Otto]

"Almost there," Resolve murmured to Otto. She pulled the orc down a little as a bottle flew over their heads, then resumed pulling him towards the door. They were taking the long way around, circumventing whatever terrible melee was choking that exit. Otto let out another hacking retch, and wiped his eyes with the back of a hand.

A kid walked by, carrying a juice box. Otto gave him a wary glance as he tried to shuffle Resolve aside of Talen's way.

She stopped them when they were up against a wall. The main door wasn't an option any more: the commotion seemed to draw in every sticky-beaked passerby, all of who wasted no time jumping into the thick of things. She felt Otto tug her in the direction of the bar at the back of the room.

"Staff entrance," he rasped.

Resolve nodded. They set a course for the bar and its openly weeping publican.

They were halfway there when Otto's weight disappeared from her shoulder. She stumbled to the side and whipped around, to see him flying backwards with a befuddled look on his face. The minotaur stepped in front of its handiwork, as Otto disappeared behind some debris, and glared down at Resolve.

"We weren't done," it brayed.

Resolve's eyes narrowed.

The minotaur took the first swing - a sharp jab aimed at the girl's face. She skipped back out the way, light on her feet, but the beast was forcing her to stay too far out to use her own fists. It bared a set of vicious teeth, stepped forward with another quick punch, and pushed her backwards once again. If this kept up, it would soon have her against the wall. Resolve knew this, so when the third punch flew in, she slipped around and inwards - and copped a fist from the minotaur's other hand in her gut. She staggered backwards and bounced off the wall.

Resolve ducked just in time. A huge, hairy arm lanced overhead and smashed clean through the timber planking.

She hunched down a little further and rolled forward between the creature's legs. Before it could fully turn around to face her, a weight like a wrecking ball slammed into its back and sent it spreadeagled against the wall. Resolve shuffled back a few steps, energy crackling about her wrists as she prepared to hurl another concussive blast in its direction.

The minotaur's head swung around in profile. Its eye was red, its pupil a small black speck lost amidst a bloody field.

"Aw, shit," Resolve muttered.

The minotaur lowered its horns, and charged.

Otto and Rez continue their escape effort, but are intercepted by her old nemesis.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Whoever this new ginger bitch was that came to Ashla's rescue, she was very quick to act. She threw a ball of fire that melted the edges off my crystalized acid shards, turning them from daggers to marbles as they pinged off the half-elf with no effect. The fireball continued its path towards me, but I was too late on the draw. The flames lit my outstretched right hand ablaze, my vine-knit fingers screaming out in pain.

"Shit!" I grit my teeth and instantly turned on my heels. This was not good. I had to get out of here. There had to be a back door somewhere--ah! There it is!

"Shit!" I took off in a rush, leaping over the man in the gasmask, through a cloud of purple gas that had been released when I wasn't looking. Where the hell did that come from?

"Shit!" Jaws had been stirring, somehow surviving having her head stomped into the ground thanks in no small part to the metal bits of her face. She was on her hands and knees, trying to recover from our short brawl. I leaped on her lower back, pushing off her spine and landing on the back of a minotaur that was rushing towards dark-skinned woman. I rolled off him as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

"Shit!" My arm had caught fire up to my elbow now. The pain was pretty incredible, to be perfectly honest. Not the most painful experience I've ever gone through; but certainly in the top ten. I had made it to the back door. Putting my left shoulder down, I barreled through the door, nearly knocking the damn thing off its hinges. The patrons outside, concerned by the amount of noise and chaos within the bar but still standing idly by and enjoying their drinks, looked at me with nothing more than concerned curiosity.

"Shit!" I ran into a waiter, knocking him down and sending a tray full of ale glasses crashing into the wooden deck as I continued my mad dash towards the ocean. Down the steps, past the scattered group of onlookers, and down the wooden pier. I tripped over some rope, which sent me tumbling awkwardly over the edge of the dock and into the chilly, salty water below with a splash.

I broke the surface and whipped my sopping wet hair out of my eyes, coughing up a lungful of water, thankful that my burning vines had been extinguished by the ocean. I cast a glance back at the tavern. Ashla Icebreaker had the bad luck of stumbling in at the worst time, and probably had the good sense to get the hell out of there by now. I could've killed her and picked up a nice, fat bounty from the Crimson Hand, and it slipped through my fingers. Diggs and Hedge were probably unaware that she was even there. They were probably back at the inn we rented a room from by now, wondering where the hell I was. I decided to cut my losses and began swimming to shore.

"...Shit."

Maddy's out, dawgs. It's been real.

[Pestarzt]

The floor had grown to be a comforting, familiar friend to Alex; it seemed they were destined to spend even more time together. As he lay writhing on it, clutching his nethers, the world around him seemed a distant memory. The warming pool of beer he lay in was his blanket, and his own heaving grunts the lullaby to a destined sleep. Perhaps going after the horrible plant-monster-girl hadn't been the wisest course of action. He'd determined her a threat, capable of taking a few blows from the curb stomping she'd given to the scrapped jaw warrior.

”Maybe I should've gone for the kid instead,” he thought between blinding flashes of pain. He thought he saw the shadow-child skipping gleefully towards the door. ”Little douche. I will slap that juice box out of his - As he attempted the most uncertain stand of his life, the breathless paint was almost a blessing. The miasma had made its way towards the entrance now, and whatever patrons were left were fighting their way to the exit. Inhaling just a small taste from the seems in his mask, coupled with a savage neutering, caused just a bit more bile to spray into his mouth piece. ”Yup. Done with this.”

He bumped into stampeding bodies as he made his way back towards the bar. Somewhere nearby, hopefully still alive, he'd find his sailor companion. Following trace amounts of blood and a few scattered teeth, he peered over the bar to find the man collecting himself beneath the whiskey, and taking a few swigs.

“Preventing dry socket?” Alex's voice seemed unnaturally high-pitched, and a little wet, behind the mask. He climbed ever so gently over the counter to slouch down next to the sailor. The black-haired demon he'd been engaged with mere moments ago had already made her hasty, smoking retreat.

“I thought ya' were in the thick of it,” the older man whistled between blood bubbles foaming at his mouth.

“Thick of it sucked,” Alex moaned back. He removed his mask as liquid and a few small chunks poured down onto his suit, before snatching the bottle from the sailor's hand and helping himself. The bartender seemed too preoccupied announcing everyone's combos to care. Alex pulled himself just for a second to see some of the carnage, but found the poisonous gas to be too unwelcoming to stay long. “This place is a drag. Let's get back to the ship and drink for free. Can you walk?”

“Aye, but not well or straight.”

With a sigh, Alex hoisted the man on his shoulders and groaned a bit as he did. With one last look behind his shoulders he spotted the minotaur trying to groggily get up from when the verdant villain had landed on him. The bottle still in hand, The Pestarzt threw the half-full whiskey towards the beast, hoping to distract it a little further. ”That orc and I still have beef. I want to see him outside.” The pair made their way through the back exit, following the smell of burnt grass.

“Get any good hits in,” asked the old man excitedly, and keeping his breaths shallow to avoid the hacking cough.

“I smashed some chick in the back with a chair, but...”

I'm starting to make my limping escape. I'll probably throw up another post outside the bar, though.

[BlackGhostofSeaside]

Julius shot a thankful glance at his and Ashla's rescuer before sharply turning to his girlfriend, "We're leaving. Go catch your Crimson Hand prey another day..."

With that, he grabbed Ashla's hand and pulled her down from the table. He turned to Gwendolyn Stormhollow, "Hey, I know you're hurt but cover us!"

The blonde scoffed, "Yeah, leave me to defend myself when I have a huge freaking hole in my shoulder!"

Julius ignored her and started pulling Ashla to the door, desperately trying to get her out of this bloodbath.

Julius and Ashla make their epic escape! Somebody attack Gwen and not them, please? xD

[Otto]

The minotaur managed to scramble halfway to his feet when a table arrested his progress by smashing down on his head. Resolve threw the furniture's cracked remains aside, and balled her hands up into fists. Her opponent raised his head just in time to see her charge in, head down and arms flaring with power, before she slammed into his chest. She picked the massive beast up and carried him forward with her momentum, headed straight for the bar.

"GOD ALMIGHTY, THAT DAME'S POSSESSED!" the bartender screamed, diving out the way. "HERE IT COMES! HERE IT COMES!"

The impact ran through the floorboards, up the soles of the patrons' shoes, all the way to the tips of their skulls. Minotaur and exorcist smashed right through the flimsy counter, and were outlined in a shimmering corona of shattered glass as they slammed up against the rear shelves.

"CAN YOU FEEL IT? CAN YOU -FEEL- IT?!"

Energy crackled right into the minotaur's gut. He doubled over with a wheeze, and it was all over; Resolve jumped up, raised her elbow to her cheek, and slammed the bony nub down between the creature's eyes. He slumped over to the side, his eyes no longer bloodshot and wild but dully unfocused.

"Rez! Catch!"

The two of them looked back over the bar, where Otto was now standing. He chucked a couple of small, brown objects through the air; Resolve caught hers easily if a little bemusedly, while the second landed gently in the minotaur's lap. The exorcist peered critically at the wooden tankard she now held in her hands.

Otto lurched over to the minotaur, and looked down. The bull man looked up. Otto extended to him an apishly long arm arm, which the other fellow gazed at for a moment, and took. Otto hauled him to his feet and brushed a few sprinklings of glass out the back of his fur, then ambled back towards the discarded beer barrel from before. He picked the half-empty vessel up with considerably more ease than the first time he had tried.

"What's your name?" he asked of the minotaur.

It blinked, slowly. "Chester."

"Well, Chester," the orc replied, walking to the rear door. "I'm Otto, and this is Resolve. Let's go outside. The air's a lot fresher there."

Chester hesitated. At first they thought he was declining Otto's olive branch, because he stumbled back towards the fray. But he emerged a few moments later, dragging an unconscious woman by her leg. Otto noted that she had the twisted remains of a steel jaw, and judging by the blood, a fairly serious head wound.

Resolve stepped up to the orc. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Otto shrugged. "Better."

They emerged onto a small portion of decking, shaded by the tavern and cluttered with boxes. The effect was to partition off the rear of the building into a sort of ramshackle courtyard, filled with seaside sundries and equipment. Gus was here as well, and offered them a welcoming nod; the elf was busy using a blanket to beat out a lingering trail of flames which ran from the building's exit, down some steps and, presumably, into the water. The trio followed its trajectory to a distant figure in the surf, who was paddling determinedly for the shore.

Chester, Otto and Resolve sat down on the edge of the pier. Otto upended the barrel to fill some mugs for them, which they sipped in silence. The noise from the tavern behind them was muted and inconsequential. Out here it was just the rasp of the wind, distant crash of gentle waves, and the rhythmic sounds of Gus going about his work. The air's refreshing coolness was unmarred by direct sunlight, and smelled of salt, seaweed, and now sweat and blood.

"We should get a doctor for her," Otto remarked, gesturing at the unconscious woman.

Gus spoke up. "I'm about done here, and I know where a physician has established her practice. I'll run and fetch them. No doubt many others could do with her services."

"You're a pal, Gus," Resolve told him.

The elf departed at a quick pace. The three remaining at the pier continued to drink in blissful quiet. They had bruises to nurse and wounds to dress. Otto did what he could for the woman, but she was well out of it, and he was no miracle worker. Maybe later, he could at least make her a new jaw.

The deck creaked as a couple of people stepped up behind them. Otto started to twist around to face them. "That was quick, Gus..." he said, and suddenly stopped.

"That's not Gus," Resolve muttered into her mug. She hadn't had to bother with turning to look.

Otto stared up into the fearsome visages of two more minotaurs. They were, if anything, even larger than Chester, and more solidly built. Otto was no small thing, but in their presence the orc was thoroughly dwarfed. They glared down balefully at him, then Resolve, and finally, at Chester - who seemed to be shrinking in on himself.

"Where," rumbled one, in a voice like a brooding volcano, "have you been, mister? Visiting bars again, hmm?"

Chester whined. "I'm sorry, muuum..."

"I was worried sick about you! And what's this? Have you been drawing on yourself again?" The matronly minotaur went to run a finger across one of Chester's more prominent tattoos. He tried to flinch away, but she was too swift; her hairy digit smeared the design, revealing it to be as fake as the nose ring. "What have I told you about making a mess?! The bathroom is a disgrace - there's black paint everywhere!"

"But, mum-!"

"No buts! You are grounded, mister! Now tip that out and be off with you. You're going to spend the rest of the day cleaning up after yourself!"

Chester shuffled to his feet dispiritedly, head bowed, and began to meander off towards the main settlement. His mother gave Otto and Resolve another look.

"Thank you for looking after him," she said. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

Resolve was covering her mouth with her hand at this point, but managed to speak through the poorly-hid grin. "No, no," she replied. "He was fine."

"Well, thanks again. You two have a lovely evening."

Chester's parents hurried after their son. Otto and Resolve stared after them, their drinks forgotten in their laps. After half a minute, they finally faced each other.

"They seemed nice," Otto said. "But you didn't give Chester back his nose ring."

Resolve shrugged. "And let his parents catch him with it? Poor guy wouldn't stand a chance..."

Otto and Rez are out! Thanks for all the fun, folks. Also, to the judge: I would like to request one high-striker mallet, gaudily painted and made of tier 1 wood (let's just say oak) as spoils, if possible. Also, a giant bronze nose ring for Resolve? Cheers!

[Hysteria]

Talen paused slightly as a screaming woman ran past on fire. He was near the entrance now, and most people had ignored him. Well, that might not be completely true. It was more probably that people had stayed away from the strange kid with a gun and tentacles. Without warning a cold feeling of dread descented on Talen. His eyes widened, senses doubled, but the pain that went through him was inevitable.

“Oooow!” Talen twisted his head and stared at the person who was pinching his ear. His eyes softened as he looked up into the much more scornful eyes of Remedy. Talen suddenly realised that the flaming woman that had run past had probably ran foul of the redhead in front of him.

“Crazy tavern brawl huh? Hehe?” Talen offered with a wry smile.

Remedy let go of Talen and placed her hands against her head, as if she was suddenly overcome by a migraine. Talen's crooked smile hardened for a second. He launched into the air, smashing a wooden chair that had been about to strike Remedy. Talen landed, expecting to be thanked.

“...Talen...” Remedy spoke through clenched teeth as juice ran down her face.

Talen glanced at the crushed juice box in his hand and he felt his stomach drop. He had forgotten he was holding it when he deflected the chair. Talen raised his hands to try and calm the red head, but the ire written on her face was as clear as the juice.

Talen turned to the entrance, his face twisting into a look of horror as flames erupted behind him. The youth launched himself with all the strength as he could muster. One foot landed on the closest table, the other stretching out towards the nearby window. He managed to curl into a ball with his arms bent in front of him as he burst through the glass and onto the street. The fire ripped over head, as he ducked on the stone.

Time to go!

Talen pushed himself onto his feet and started running. His feet pounded the ground as he ducted through the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around the nearly destoryed building. Talen didn't pause as he heard the shrill cry of his name behind him, instead he ran for all he was worth. He'd have to wait a few days before talking to Remedy, but he smiled regardless. He glanced down at his hand with the crushed juice box. In it were several small glass marbles, he assumed had been dropped during the fight. Remedy probably hadn't seen him grab them before running, Talen didn't have the heart to escape too easily.

Talen out!

Reward requests!:
One slightly tarnished treasure map (for a quest later probably)
One crushed juice box.
Seven toxic glass marbles (a trophy, no value attached).

[Remedy]

“TTAAAAALEEEEN!”

That little bastard jumped out of the window with my fire nipping at his backside all the way. He was fast, I knew he could have escaped at any moment from me. I was angry with him, furious even. The juice was going to take me ages to wash out of my hair. I let a small smile climb onto my face, he meant well. Well... he normally meant well. Actually, lets go with he sometimes tried to mean well.

My thoughts of the kid were quickly pushed aside as someone shouted with pain near me. I needed to get out of this tavern, and I needed to do it quickly. I tried to move, but a man grabbed me from behind, in the chaos and my own thoughts I hadn't noticed him approach. His arms tightened, the smell of sweat was disgustingly strong so close to him. I fought back a gag as he tried to run his hands across places that I wouldn't let a nun see.

My blood boiled. That jerk didn't know who he was messing with. I reached my arm around and grabbed his private parts. Normally that would be painful... but I was wearing my special glove. I can't quite describe the sound he made as electricity turned his manhood into a mancouldn't. It was something like a rabbit singing falsetto who just had its tail stepped on. The moment he let go I pivoted around on the spot. He was ugly, and not just because his face was contorted in pain. He fell to his knees, I grabbed his head and brought my knee up to meet it.

The sailor's nose exploded in a fountain of blood, but he didn't remove his hands from his crouch as he collapsed sideways. Vindicated I reached into my pocket and pulled out two smoke bombs. These babies had gotten me out of some tough times, and now was one. I threw them my feet. A quick puff and hissing sound and in moments the smoke filled the air. I didn't waste any time and was off out the same window Talen had gone through.

Remedy out!

She smokebombed the tavern... so yeah.

[Philomel]

In the end she was not successful.

Nothing in her sane mind had expected a minotaur to be dragged out of the shop, or to go back to the main part of the fighting and find, practically, all the participants gone. With dagger in hand she crept out from her hiding place, cautious, but also wary as she stepped over a grumbling, bruised old man and apologised to a centaur who had lost his glasses. She was surprised to find that there was no Doge near the bar, not on the bar or in the arms of an orc. Neither was there a renegade human wanting to kick her in the face. In fact nothing here seemed interesting anymore. There was neither a scrap of yellow fur or whimper of a bark from anywhere. Even as she scoured the place she could see no more evidence of the mongrel named Doge.

Lowering her dagger she let out a grumble, and neatly dodged a boy she vaguely recognised from one of her many personal quests over the past year. A red-haired girl sprinted after him, screaming at the top of her lungs and she tossed something behind her. Philomel raised an eyebrow, looking at the small metallic implements before cursing under her breath and then running to dive for cover. She shoved her head under a body and quickly wormed her way back over to the personal cave, barely able to see. Thick fog filled the room like a sudden bonfire, bursting into smoke, and she found herself coughing before properly making her way to where Veridian was hiding. He was crouching in the corner, hissing and scratching at the mist before him, a hazy red-brown figure in the dimness, and she waved out a hand to him before spluttering out a call.

"Come here," she choked, gesturing to him.

Barely able to see her at all but avidly listening he paused for a moment, then took a step towards. Philomel herself was finding it hard to breath. Whatever this temporary smoke was - it was painful and it was not worth the while to wait in here for the mongrel to return and finally get his death's due. No, no instead she wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes. The two of them as one sucked in their breath and the earth opened up beneath them. They appeared seven metres away, in the middle of an argument between a mother minotaur and his mother, then they paused before moving again.

[Andy Rorton]

Rorton had enough.

After delivering his dropkick which seemed to have little to no effect on the goat-girl. The beast bitch countered with a contorted headbutt aimed for the privates of the gunman. It was only the man’s quick reflexes to roll away that saved him from the damage of the unattractive thing. He sneered and stood up, but quickly lost track of his new target. So many people were engaged in fights, it was hard to keep track of who was fighting who, and most of the competent warriors high tailed it out.

There were no legends left in the bar, so Rorton’s interest waned quickly.

His eyes spotted the bar maiden he was originally with before the ruckus started and smiled. The wench was busy making it towards the esxit, her blouse over her mouth like some strange surgeon as she evaded the smoke that began to fill the room. Rorton cracked his knuckles before swinging a fist as hard as he could into the cloud of smog. When he hit something, he quickly grabbed until he felt the head of his unwilling victim. He wrapped his fingers around a pair of circular horns and grinned. Perhaps his luck was not so bad after all.

He pulled his foe towards him and wrapped an arm around the horn headed person’s face. His other arm grabbed the legs of his foe and placed them upon a table. He looked around to see who he still had the attention of. There was only one person through the grey cloud that took any notice.


“BAH GAWD RORTON NO, DON’T DO IT DON’T DO I---“

Andy slammed the face of his opponent upon the floor, the elevated height of the table helping the warrior cause further damage to the features of his foe. He stood up and smiled, arms extended in victory before he looked down. His eyes widened once he realized that the rounded horns belonged to a male faun, and not those of his dog-harming opponent. Overcome with anger, Rorton disappeared into the smoke, each step backwards cold and calculating.

“OH GOD RORTON, WHAT’S HE DOIN, WHAT’S GOIN ON?!?”

Rorton ran out of the smoke and slammed his foot into the head of the faun, a roar exclaimed from the gunslinger as he did so. Had it not been for the spinal column of the half-goat, his head would have been punted clean off of his shoulders. Rorton grabbed at his side and miraculously found his whip still attached to his side.

He threw the leather weapon upwards once more, wrapping it around the first rafter that started this whole fiasco. With one great tug, the rafter fell onto the floor, followed by another, and then another. Then the first wall crumpled like a piece of paper in someone’s hand. Rorton turned his back to the crumbling bar and slowly walked out. He needed to find his waitress and explain that he would go through hell and high water to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okmi0mCNJ8g]break the walls down[/url] for her.

Yeah, that’s a good note to end on…

((Rorton Out))