Bar Brawl (Open to All)

[Risk]

It was a dark and stormy drink.

The ginger beer had long since succumbed to old age, the rum had drowned itself in equal parts water, and the twist of lime had more fermentation kick than anything else - but it was palatable enough for anyone on a proper bender. The perfect drink for the establishment. A seedy longhouse with plenty of trestle tables and many a person seeking solace from the bottle or fortune from a round of gambling. Elbow room was a hot commodity, packed so tightly among friends and strangers that were all too friendly. The smell was atrocious - the sawdust on the floor did little to soak up the sick, and the air was hot with too many bodies crammed into one place.

Risk had gathered at one of the quieter tables to try her hand at a game of chance, and hope lady luck was on her side that night. She’d set off on her own that night, away from her compatriots in the Greenspike mercenary company, although she had no doubt those fellows of ill-repute would show up sooner or later. Instead, she whiled away the hours of the night intent on winning back some of her gold from a group of six knaves and robbers, cloaked in filthy capes and dim-tavern light.

One by one, her fellow gambler’s had all folded until it was left to just Risk and a broad, greasy man who’d won fair too many hands so far. He had the cold glint of steel in his eye, and a shining gold tooth that made an appearance each time the fucker showed his cards. Her own eyes darted between her hand and him, and her locks of red hair clung tightly to her olive skin drenched in tense sweat. When the fifth street revealed itself in the common cards, he’d smirked again.

“Six-high straight,” he cackled, laying his hand down - the two of hearts and three of clubs. He reached for the pot with one beefy arm and slung back a shot with the other.

Two of hearts

Like a flash, Risk planted her kukri into the table; the curved iron blade pointing its hilt at its master. She was standing, or more accurately leaning over the table, with keen eyes hidden behind the thick black make-up she applied around them daily. The tavern grew quiet, or the mercenary had blocked out all the sound, so hotly focused on the man across the table from her. With nary a move, and little effort, she flipped her own hand to reveal a pair of twos - of clubs, and of hearts. More people around the longhouse began to take notice.

“Are you callin’ me a liar,” said the gambler with a slight lisp as his fat tongue coated his lips.

“I haven’t said a word, my friend,” Risk replied, unmoved - but bemused by the obvious lie. ”These Scara Brae folk are strange, and this Stonevale stranger still.”

The cheater chased his shot with a swill of ale.

“Then what are ya’ callin’ me? Better yet,” he reached behind his chair, and laid a massive pick-ax on the table - one that made short work of stone and even shorter of a skull, “What’re’ya gonna’ do?” His voice dripped with an unearned bravado. Again, Risk was confused at these strange customs. Her knife was in the table, her cards were clearly laid out; in Fallien, this matter wouldn’t be resolved until there were a few loose teeth on the ground. But perhaps the man had not been introduced to the finer points of etiquette.

”I’ll have to teach him.”

Without taking her eyes off her opponent, she finished her dark and stormy in one swift gulp and let out an exaggerated, refreshed sigh - before launching the glass square into his forehead. It shattered like the cheap crystal it was, sending him back in his chair and almost to the ground. Before he’d had time to move, Risk leapt upon the table. Gold coins scattered as she swept a sandaled foot across it, reaching for her kukri and preparing to pounce on the man like a dune leopard. The others at her table fled, or stayed to grab at the loose money. A few more tables joined in, hoping to snatch a few more coins for a few more rounds.

It seemed as if chaos would erupt at any moment.

Bar Brawl.

Rules are simple. Anyone can join whenever, anyone can leave whenever.

Introduce any fight you want.

Challenge other PCs, NPCs, or continue to drink.

Try to include an OOC note at the bottom of your post to easily illustrate what occurred. There isn’t a posting order, post when it makes sense.

[Elliya]

This ties in directly to the events in Dovetails, where Elliya is trying to track down an associate of a bandit who robbed her.

Hi, my name is Elliya- Nope, bad idea, try again.

Hi, my name is Ell…ske. Elske. And I believe you stole something of mine. Although you don’t have it anymore, since you pawned it. Really you don’t have anything of mine, and I didn’t even have to pay to get it back, but you made me talk to that pawn shop owner and he was kind of an jerk so. . . you owe me. Also I guess technically you didn’t steal it, your friend did, but whatever.

Okay, that probably needs a little bit more workshopping.

Elliya kept an eye on the horizon as the ramshackle longhouse she was headed for loomed in her vision. In reality, it was relatively cramped and unassuming, but given the nature of the task ahead of her, it seemed in her eyes to almost blot out the sun.

Focus, focus. We’ve fought worse. We? I have fought worse, and also I am a weirdo who refers to herself using “we” when she’s nervous apparently.

Elliya knew that one bandit in a bar was unlikely to be a big issue. But interrogation and intimidation? That was another step away from her old comfortable life of crafting and farming back home.

Ahem. Hi, my name is Elske. Your friend stole something of mine and sold it in this very town. You’re going to tell me where he is or you’re going to pay. Figuratively, I mean. Again to be fair it didn’t cost me anything to get it ba-

You know what, he doesn’t need the long version. My thing, stolen, play nice or I’ll hit you. Easy.

Elliya took a deep breath as she opened the door.

---

Her first reaction was hot, putrid regret.

Holy shit this place smells horrible. Is this on purpose? Nothing could smell this bad on accident, surely.

Suppressing a gag, Elliya did her best saunter up to the bar.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll have what she’s having.”

Elliya gestured over at a vaguely nautical looking woman a few tables away who was talking animatedly at a few enthralled patrons.

Nice, perfect. She looks cool. And like she belongs.

The bartender glanced up at Elliya, unimpressed. “You mean an ale.”

“Yeah. That sounds right. Thanks.”

Nailed it.

The bartender briefly turned their back before serving Elliya an uncomfortably warm glass of what she had to imagine was the cheapest ale in the house.

Taking some tentative sips, Elliya looked around the bar as surreptitiously as possible, surveying the backroom deals, probably hilariously unfair card games, and even what looked to be a drunken proposal. At just a glance, there were already more than a few patrons who matched the generally disheveled description she had been given, and she wanted to take some care to not accost some random stranger on accident.

Him maybe? No, too skinny. Not that guy, surely? They would have mentioned that facial hair if he looked like that. Definitely.

Finally, her eyes settled on a ragged looking individual seated alone at the far corner who appeared to be gazing intently at a pile of coins accumulating from a tense-looking game of chance next to him.

That looks like him! Maybe he’s trying to will himself some telekinetic powers or something. Wouldn’t that be a fun twist? Probably would make him a better thief than having to just use his hands all the time.

Elliya set her drink down gently and slowly started meandering towards the person in question, feigning interest in the card game along the way.
Once she reached his table, she sidled along the edge, placing herself between him and the gleaming objects of his affection.

“Hell of a pot, isn’t it? You, uh, like to gamble?”

The man stared wordlessly back at her.

Okay, let’s try this again.

“Hi, nice to meet you! I’m Elske. Your friend stole-”

The man immediately stood up and made a cut to the right, quickly angling to bolt for the door.

You know, I’m almost glad he didn’t snitch right away. It just wouldn’t have felt like I was getting the full experience.

Elliya pivoted to block his escape when someone careened into her from behind, knocking her off balance. The energy of the bar suddenly shifted as the world seemed to erupt into fighting around her.

Nevermind. Universe, are you listening? Next time I would be totally happy with a blabbermouth, really.

The sounds of unrepentant property damage filled the air as Elliya recovered her footing and pushed her way through the throng after her target.

At least there’s going to be a lot of demand for someone who knows how to fix chairs tomorrow.

Elliya arrives at the bar and finds her target, but hasn't yet begin to fight.

[Breaker]

The battle is my dance, the mayhem my music, and you folks would tempt me with a ball...

Stuck in the cramped quarters of The Foul Stench, I marveled at having finally found a place worse than Haide. I'd spent the better part of the evening pretending to drink what they called whisky and watching my mark. The portly miner was cheating at cards, and getting less careful about it with each drink he consumed. I closed my eyes for a short moment. That wouldn't end well.

The Foul Stench wasn't the pub's real name -- probably. I hadn't bothered to glance at the dingy sign over the door. My mark - the miner - seemed like a typical patron for the place. The little woman trying in vain to beat him at a rigged game did not. She didn't seem to like it when she finally found evidence of his cheating, either.

"Trisgen's trident," I swore under my breath as the angered cardplayer pitched her glass into my mark's face and moved to follow through with her kukri.

I didn't want to care about the cheater's wellbeing, but he was going to play a crucial role in Stonevale's development as an Althanas landmark. Am'aleh had foretold it, and my goddess' eyes could see farther than the world was long. She had sent me a message two days earlier, and I had already confirmed her story. I'd visited the miner's rooming house the previous night while he slept deep with drink. An inspection of his pickaxe showed golden dust, and I'd found a few fragments of gold ore in his overcoat pocket.

The cheater was an independent prospector. Clearly he had located a rich vein of gold, and clearly he meant to mine it himself and keep the profits. But the town of Stonevale would need the rights to the precious metal in order to grow into a proper city. Am'aleh had foretold it, and I agreed after spending more than a day there.

I clambered to my feet and stumbled swiftly across the pub, still doing my best to blend with the intoxicated crowd. No one needed to know a demigod had visited The Foul Stench that night.

The lithe cardplayer leapt onto the table, reaching for her blade to carve blood money from her opponent's flesh.

Sorry, little shark, I thought as I stole up behind the miner, you'll have to take your vengeance on someone else. This man's staying alive until I locate the gold mine he started.

I grabbed the broad man's greasy ponytail, pulling him to his feet as he wiped blood and crystal shards from his face.

"What the--" he sputtered, attention wavering between me and his assailant.

"Shut up and move," I shoved him toward the exit, which was blocked by the seething crowd. "I'm not letting you die tonight."

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

It's him. It's definitely him.

Three days ago, Shinsou had sensed a tremendous presence in the Stonevale region whilst trying to conclude a trade agreement between Whitevale and Stonevale's councils. In all honesty, Osiris had considered the trade mission a long overdue holiday, and once the work was done, the Telgradian had decided to hold off returning home in the hope of once again meeting an old friend. A friend who, according to rumour, had disappeared from Althanas altogether. The fact he had not registered on Shinsou’s senses for so long lent credence to the long persisting rumours that, perhaps, he had ascended beyond the mortal plane and into the pantheon of the Thayne.

There were many 'specials' that wielded strong magical power, but in his vast experience there were none like Joshua Cronen. None.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris had hoped for it all along, but now he was absolutely certain. As he entered the tavern, a white hooded cloak having granted him protection from the rain and now from the prying eyes of the citizenry, his eyes flashed to the circus that was unfolding to his right and confirmed his suspicions.

It was definitely him, a much-more fresh faced Joshua Cronen than Shinsou remembered, but there was something off. His compatriot seemed not to be a friend, but someone that had been quickly removed by Joshua from a situation, like he was protecting him. Judging from the haste in which his old friend wished the grubby little bastard to exit the inn, it was clear to Osiris that whatever was happening here was important; Cronen was not known for wasting his time or energy on the mundane or insignificant.

In this case, facts were sadly lacking, but he felt compelled to help his friend.

“I would move, if I were you.” Shinsou warned as an increasingly incensed crowd gathered around the doorway, ahead of himself who, in turn, was ahead of Cronen and his human cargo. With a simple lift, Shinsou peeled back his hood to reveal his face to the gathered masses, and watched as the generic expressions of anger and dismay morphed into something akin to surprise and fear.

So much for anonymity. Not like the old days where I could get about un-noticed, but I suppose it has its uses.

“Judging from the looks on your faces, you all know who I am. This man," The Telgradian gestured back to the ponytailed guy within Cronen's grasp, "and the man holding him are now under the protection of the Brotherhood. I think it would be best if you took some time to carefully consider what happens next, and reach the only sensible conclusion that involves us safely walking out of here, and you safely returning to your tables in one piece."

It was a crock of shit. They weren't under the Brotherhood's protection at all. Cronen absolutely needed no help from Shinsou to handle whatever *this* was, but sometimes the best course of action was the deterrent whereby no-one got hurt.

[Flamebird]

"You know, you don't have to come."

Memories of smooth waters swaying a boat rolled in her mind. They were both leaning against the edge of the ship as it just was starting to pull away from the dock. Looking out towards the open sea, Felicity looked down to see her own reflection as well as the reflection of Shinsou Vaan Osiris, her mentor.

"I'm coming because I'm new to the Brotherhood. Coming to Stonevale, I can get a better grasp at Whitevale's politics."

Shinsou tilted his head towards her in a calm yet amused fashion. "You're coming to make sure I don't get hurt."

Felicity's eyes widened. How could he see right through her like that? She shifted awkwardly, having to admit defeat. She sighed, "I'm coming to make sure you don't get hurt."

Felicity frowned, "I lost my family before. Can you blame me for coming?"

Shinsou scoffed, a slight smile on his face. "No. Might as well learn about Whitevale's trade while you're at it."

Felicity finally looked directly at him, instead of through the water's reflection. She nodded firmly, "Yes. Whitevale has little to export, so what can we give the outside world?"

Shinsou reached up and tugged at his signature white coat, neatening it as the salty breeze tried to fluff it out. "We may not have raw materials, but we have many skilled crafters in our Brotherhood. We owe our economy to them."

"Mmhmm." Felicity looked out to the orange painted sea as the sun dipped down. "There's this annoying blacksmith down the road from my house. Keeps me up with that anvil he keeps hammering."

Shinsou gave a small chuckle, "You sleep terribly as it is kid."

Felicity's eyes widened as a thought came out of nowhere. She reached down and tapped the katana at her hip, "You could finally teach me to use this thing too!"

"Hmm?"

"My katana!" Felicity smiled, thumping her fists, "It's similar to Enpera!"

Shinsou nodded, thoughtful as always, "You want to mimic my fighting style?"

Felicity's lips pressed together, forehead burrowing in loyalty, "Don't I owe it to you? You gave me purpose again, teacher."

As Shinsou made a rather bold move in the bar, Felicity silently sipped her non-alcoholic mango-pineapple juice. She had not expected him to make a scene like that. Still, her eyes were glued on her mentor. She needed to keep him safe here. She had been bombarded by magical energy, buffeted like a large dragon in a tight forest. The magical signature of the man holding the person the Brotherhood was apparently protecting now was... insane, to say the least.

Who are you? And what does Shinsou want with you?

She took a final gulp of the drink, leaving the glass cup empty. Still holding the glass, she stood up and walked next to Osiris. She tilted her head towards him and whispered so only he could hear. Being short, she had to stand on her toes to whisper into his ear.

"Hey, if the Brotherhood is protecting whoever he is, it has to do with me."

Still, Felicity hoped that Shinsou’s bluff would work before any fighting broke out.

Felicity is standing next to Shinsou ready to wail on anyone who hurts him. She noticeably is holding a glass cup.

[redford]

(I'll kick the hornet's nest if no one else will)

John's drink spilled around his moustaches as he tipped it backward, the tankard (a small cask he'd specially asked for, the cups this hole stocked were just too damned small) dripping the strong, vile kind of ale down a part of his dusty shirt. Doing fast smithy work for a local lord was thirsty work, and since she wasn't around tonight, he could lose himself in the drink, at least for a moment. He put the thing down, and waved at a hazy barmaid in the distance. She'd been clearer to see earlier, he was sure of it. The candles around the place were just flickering orbs of light, now.

The man next to him on the bench of the long table whistled, saying something about how he could 'put them away', John hadn't been listening since drink number two. Number three?

Did it matter?

He looked dazedly at his empty hand. Something was wrong. Where was his tankard? He was sure he had one a minute ago. He looked around for a moment, trying to find the barmaid. As if by magic, a cask thumped down in front of him, and John eagerly snapped the thing up and tipped it backward. Was it growing louder in here, or was it just his ears?

The cask suddenly tipped too far, splashing his entire head in the brew and nearly putting the cask on his head entirely. He sputtered, yanking his hand away, where it collided, cask and all, with the drunkard next to him, who cried out. John stood, toppling the other man who had crashed into him to the ground, and squinted through the beer dripping from his hair at the more crowded section of the bar, just in time to see a walking figure lower the hood from his cloak, and turn his back.

John's eyes widened, and a thrill of focus drove a part of his drunken acceptance away. Shinsou Vaan Osiris stood there, not thirty feet from him, talking to someone. Without a second thought he took the five steps towards him, snatching at his back, grabbing a fistful of cloak, coat, undershirt, and all. He whipped his arm backward toward the window, and let go. He followed through with a yell.

"You and me got business, Telgradian!"

John has attempted to toss Shinou out of the tavern (only optionally through the window)

[Flamebird]

He did not. Oh, he did not. He just did not! Yet he had. A large looking, drunk man had dared to muster the audacity to lay a finger on her mentor! He would pay.

Mere milliseconds after the attack, Felicity silently snapped into action. It was instinct, it was a gut reaction. No one was allowed to hurt her loved ones. Not again. With her enormous might, Felicity chucked the glass at the man.

As the glass shattered on him, Felicity darted forth. Blood floated around the man as Felicity lept off the ground, causing the floor boards below to shatter. Using her momentum and strength together, she slammed into him, trying to use her power to tip over a man far larger than herself.

"Don't touch him!" Felicity barked as she grappled at his arms, "Or I'll make your every waking moment a living hell!"

They landed on the ground, the floorboards smashing from the impact as the entire bar exploded into chaos. Fighting. There would only be fighting now. Thankfully, Felicity knew what she was fighting for. Shinsou Vaan Osiris.

Felicity yeeted a glass at Fitebear and barreled him over, trying to grapple him. Redford approved the bunnies in Discord. Fewicity protecc Shinsou.

[Breaker]

All of my godlike senses, speed, and reflexes became useless in the rowdy tavern. Somehow I'd failed to spot Shinsou Vaan Osiris and what could only be his latest apprentice tailing me. I also hadn't noticed the familiar giant John Cromwell in the corner. And I couldn't move any faster than the bulky miner's staggering feet allowed.

Fortunately, Cromwell made for a formidable distraction, especially with his mighty attention focused on Shinsou. As the giant, the Telgradian, and the apprentice joined into the pub's fisticuffs I shoved my mark as gently as possible towards the kitchen's entrance.

"Skunt!" A red-haired man roared, slashing with a broken bottle at an even more red-haired woman. She dove aside and the dangerous glass arced in on the miner's neck.

Tssssshh! The glass shattered as my arm swept up like a spring-loaded lever. Without thinking I stiff-armed the ginger bastard out of our path and herded my mark closer to the edge of the chaotic room.

Breaker is escorting the cheating bastard to the back of the room, aiming for the kitchen doors and the rear exit. If there isn't a rear exit, he'll make one (assuming they get there).

[Alfred]

I was just finishing a very fine day of fishing, and was looking to get a drink when lo and behold a there was quite the commotion going on in the local bar, fancy that. Well I was here, lets do this! I grabbed the nearest stool causing some poor nelwyn to go flying, and started swinging! I didn't really recognize anyone right off the bat, I just found the nearest schlub , and cold-cocked him with my stool!

Now, I am normally a peaceful man but this was just fun, I wasn't going all out I was just looking to knock people down, and laughing maniacally. There's actually a few things one could do during a bar fight you could find a hidey hole, and ride out the storm; you could pick a group ,and join them against the others; pick outliers, and go after them, or lastly, and most fun...

DO THINGS THAT ARE NORMALLY SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE IN A SOCIAL GATHERING!!!

I threw my stool behind me... which coincidentally landed on the nelwyn that was getting up, jumped up on the bar, jumped from the bar to the chandelier, and swung off it!

Alf is acting like a jack ass for the fun of it and staying mostly out of the way of the worst of the fight proper

[Freebooter]

While the fight raged in The Foul Stench, the atmosphere was quite calm in the neighboring tavern called Stonevale's Best Pie. True to its name, the place sold fantastic pies, both savory and sweet.

Marigold the Freebooter was sitting at the head of a long table, surrounded by his crew. The pirate picked his teeth with a sliver of floorboard as the rowdy sound from next door bled through the walls.

"Harrharrharr, me buckoes, what sound be that?" Marigold asked the table, cocking an exaggerated hand to his ear.

"Why cap'n," said Longeyes, the lookout, "that's the sound of maidens singin' and dancin'!"

"No it aint!" Belted Peaches, the first mate, "tis the gentle trill of the wind blowing through silver chimes!"

"Close!" Marigold smiled darkly, "it do be a pleasin' sound t'be sure... but 'tis the bleat of a barroom battle!"

"What?" Peaches growled, leaning forward and spitting out a mouthful of lettuce, "They're havin' a fight in this town... and they didn't invite us?"

"Sad but true," Marigold shook out his dreadhawk and smoothed his mustache. "Whatever shall we do?"


~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The front door of the Foul Stench (or whatever it's called) burst open, and a bevy of pirates armed with cudgels, glass bottles, and fists streamed in. Marigold ran in the lead flanked by barrel-chested Peaches and lean Longeyes. He leapt up on a table and, finding a certain rhythm to the chaos around him, began to dance and sing. The crew worked like a well oiled machine, defending him from anyone who dared approach.

"Weeeeeeelllllllllll haharrr and ho-ho-ho,
What do be this I see?
This pub is the place to be in town,
And yeh' didn't invite me!

Now I shan't be whining like a woe ridden ass,
But I do feel yeh' could have come callin'!
An invite to the fight would show some true class
And there's no reason for yeh' to be stallin'!"

The joyous hornpipe carried him up and down the length of the tavern's tables while his crew joined in the merry-making, spurred on by their captain's bravado.