Sailors Fighting in the Dance Hall

[Pestarzt]

((Open to any and everyone))

“It's so hot,” Alex Alfons thought between dry heaves above the bathroom porthole. He braced himself against the wall like a hopeless defender in a siege. There was a ringing in his ear that kept pace with his pounding headache. Alex's guts seemed caught in the midst of an existential crisis, unsure of their place in the grand scheme of things. A bubbling torment crept up his throat; hot, vile, and deadset on seeing the outside world. He watched the last of the yellow chucks fly down to the waters below, thankful that this time he wasn't wearing his mask. Rising slowly, with all the confidence of a child's first steps, he spun around and opened the stall door.

Every step brought a new nausea and a wretched dread that seemed to say that nothing would be right with the world again. The pearl coast brought with it the empty, shimmering promise of a relaxing vacation. Instead, his stomach rolled with every wave that sloshed against the pier's supports. Though newly built and steady as stone, Alex could feel the gentle rock of the tide and compensated for it as best he could with a wobbling gait. The bathroom proper had become more crowded than when he had first entered. Though he had only hogged one stall, the bar was busy enough to keep a constant flow of traffic for people trying to make room. Cold glares met him as he exited, as he one gentle pat on the shoulder.

“It'll be okay, mate,” said one kindly fat man. Somehow, Alex didn't believe him.

The bar's main hall was massive and open, but oppressively hot. Summer had stifled the cool sea breezes, and dingy windows kept even the zephyrs away. The chandeliers above dripped melting wax onto floors and tables below, but no candles were lit. He walked past rows of crowded tables featuring every weird sort Althanas had to offer. With the Corone Civil War dwindling but alive, Serenti and its barony had begun to thrive more as a port of Free Corone. Local businessmen had worked quickly to take raw materials from Underwood and build a sprawling dock and pier that stretched deep into clean blue waters.

He returned to the bar a new man, a thousand yard stare was occasionally hidden by a worrisome, trembling hand. “So, no food then?” The bar tender had a kind of wry smile you wanted to shatter to a million pieces, slickly sliding a menu cheap menu back behind the counter. As Alex returned to his seat, he was greeted by a sailor he had the cheerful misfortune of spending three solid weeks with. The crew had taken him to the very edge of death, and even a bit past it, with a drink they devised in some dark dream. For endless weeks, Alex had found that happy, perpetual drunk that only daft sailors dared to live. Whiskey, cider, and rum were blended together in a dark oak barrel and aged until they were remembered in some forgotten hold of the ship.

His friend nibbled on a piece of fatty pork that rested in the thin broth, almost starring back at him with grease-traced eyes. He felt another heave, but managed to stifle it.

“As I was sayin',” the crewman began with a toothless grin, “her breast was as big as I'd ever seen!” Though he seemed charming enough during the voyage, Alex looked past his listlessly, rolling a cigarette all the while. He nodded once or twice before licking it closed.

“Got a light?” He nearly croaked.

“Aye.” The crewman reached into his waistcoat's pocket to produce a lighter. If Alex could see straight, even he would blush at the well-done etching decorating it. Shakily, he lit the tip and took the first warm pull towards good health.

“You can't smoke in here. Take it outside.” The bartender was stern for a short man, and ruddy as the sun at dusk. Alex just shrugged before getting up, taking one last drag before making his way towards what he hoped was the door. Blindly bright by comparison, the open doorway was the only source of fresh air into the stagnant tavern.
”Maybe it'll be a relief. I can retch over the edge if I need to - “

Someone stood up so suddenly from a table to his side that Alex almost lost his balance. After gaining some semblance of dignity, he turned to find his cigarette broken in half, and a very tall half-orge shooting daggers at him with a charcoal eye.

“Ya' burned me!” He roared from somewhere deep in the back of his throat, echoing above that deafening noise of the bar. He was covered in scars on his leather skin, and tobacco juice dripped from his lips.

“Sorry man, but you bumped into me.” Alex stumbled a little more on unsure footing. He was considered tall even as a boy, but the half-orge had at least a foot on him. Lifeless blue eyes tried to portray so apology, but were betrayed by their utter apathy. The half-ogre grabbed him by his suit jacket, slamming him to the ground. He held the gas mask at his side as best he could, protecting it from any damage. “Oh man, you win. Now chill.”

This enraged the half-orge further, but Alex's friend stepped in to try to broker some peace. No sooner had the older man opened his mouth than a fist came careening towards it. The crewman was sent sprawling to the floor, a trickle of blood at his lips. The ogre chuckled to himself, but a slow hiss near him caused a pause.

Alex donned his mask, and a slight stream of smoke slipped out of it. Beneath the glass on his, those blue eyes had found some vigor as the looked straight at the ogre. He pulled once at his wrinkled purple shirt and unbuttoned vest, before jumping enough to land a sickening punch at the monstrous face. His knuckle had caught a twisted tusk, but the ogre fell back with a grunt, taking down two tables and a card game with him. Shouts erupted as irate patrons pushed at the fallen monster, and more yells were heard from the back. The heat and drink had finally been more than people could take.

The two creatures that sat the ogre's table, a minotaur and a woman with a lower jaw of iron, rose from their seats and started to approach Alex.

[Hysteria]

Talen's Theme (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saPr6gqjsdY)

Talen bent over his most recent purchase, a treasure map that had been taken off a captured pirate. Talen had paid a pretty penny for the map, with assurance that if no such treasure existed he could return and swap the map back. The youth held a magnifying glass up to the burnt parchment and tried to break the cypher the pirate had used. His efforts came to naught as he was shoved from behind and his mug of juice splashed across the map. Before his eyes he could see the ink being stripped off the parchment.

Two burning eyes twisted back at the ogre that had bumped Talen. The boy's small form stood up and the ogre pushed against him again. Talen's hands caught himself against the table to stop his face from meeting wood.

“Watch it kid.” Spat the creature.

Talen slammed his fists into the table, smashing half of its top clean off. His hands grabbed the severed wood as drinks and food flung into the air. With an effortless jump he rose two metres into the air so he was face to with the ogre. The creature's eyes went wide as with with a twist of his body, Talen smashed the creature in the face with a shower of wood and splinters.

“You brat!” Roared the minotaur, and landed a punch directly into Talen's chest before he could land back on his feet. Talen bounced across heads and tables as he flew across the tavern, coming to rest with a crash among some off duty guardsmen.

Before they could react, Talen was on his feet. Four long black tentacles stretched out from his back and writhed through the air. They shot out, latching onto anything they could find and hurling it towards the minotaur and ogre. Chair, stool, table, even the odd guardsman flew through the air.

Talen 2 by 4's the ogre, gets punched across the tavern by the minotaur, smashes a table, and starts throwing things and people at the minotaur.

[Otto]

Probably the best thing this place had over Radasanth was the smell. If you went down the the city docks, odds are you'd just catch a whiff of fly-blown fish and whatever spoilt supplies the recently-arrived ships had offloaded. But here, when Otto closed his eyes and breathed deep, he mostly got the crisp, briny smell of a clean sea. Well, there might be rotting seaweed undertones to it, but such vegetable scents didn't have the power to trouble him.

"Sir looks to be a little shy on drink," observed someone behind him.

Otto heard his empty, sugar-lined cup being replaced with a full and fresh one. He propped up the wayfarers (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26023-Making-of-the-Hirsute-Hipster) above his brow and looked at the little table bedside his deckchair: this new drink was served in a tall glass, had four brightly-coloured layers to it, a few cherries tucked against the rim, and a tiny paper umbrella.

"Thank you, Gus," he murmured. The waiter was a reserved, handsome, blond elf fellow descended from the island's native population. He had been quick to see past the orc's obvious features and recognise that Otto was No Trouble, Polite to Other Guests and - most importantly - A Decent Tipper. Otto didn't know many people down this part of the island, so he had been getting acquainted with the waterfront regulars and its various staff. Gus was probably the closest thing he had to a friend here at the moment.

This... this was what he was needing, Otto reckoned. He relaxed into the deckchair and let the sun burn off the moisture from his latest swim, let the wind blow gently over the dense thicket upon his exposed chest. He could hear a regular chink of glass as Gus catered to his patrons along the pier. His own cocktail gave off a searing sugary scent which made his stomach grumble. Half asleep now, he reached out for the cool drink...

SMASH.

Otto's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he thought he had knocked the glass onto the planks - but no. Gus and the other clientele were staring at the large building towards the shore. A few more thumps followed from inside its walls, then a roar. He looked at Gus. Gus looked at him.

Otto stood up, brushed the creases off his swimming trunks, and walked carefully over to the bar. At some point he became aware of Gus at his elbow, a tray of drink still propped up in one hand. Some more crashes and screams sounded from within, and Otto was pretty sure something heavy had just bounced off the door. They could feel the activity through the deck, now; the sturdy planks trembled and shook to whatever ruckus was going on inside. Gus went to look through one of the windowpanes, but years of experience prompted Otto to put a gently restraining hand on the elf's shoulder.

At that moment, a man flew backwards through the glass and landed heavily on the pier.

They looked down at what appeared to be one of the local watch, now out cold on the ground. Fresh off his shift, too; his uniform had protected him from any nasty cuts and scrapes he would have otherwise suffered upon his ejection. Otto performed a quick examination in any case. If he'd been knocked out, that could well mean serious head trauma.

Gus leaned around the orc's frame for a better look. "Is he especially hurt, do you think?" he asked.

"No," Otto replied. He stood up, grabbed one of the larger drinks off of Gus' tray, and took a long draught. "Just black-out drunk. He'll be fine."

"Mmhmm," Gus hummed, as Otto used his foot to roll the prone fellow on his side. "A tavern brawl. And the place has barely been open a week, at that. Such progress we've made."

Otto peeked in through the smashed pane. "Normally I'd offer to break it up," he remarked, "but the there's a godsdamned minotaur in there, not to mention an ogre. And... a kid?"

"You've lost me."

"Er," Otto said, apparently transfixed by what he saw, "best just to keep away from him, I think."

Gus nodded. "Thank you for the advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go rescue what's left behind the bar, lest it come out of my wages."

Otto grabbed at the elf again. "I'll take care of it," he told Gus, "Right now, I need you to find Resolve Curie, and get her here. She should be at the high striker."

"Very well, sir."

Gus' silky hair bobbed up and down as he trotted off along the pier. Otto steeled himself, quickly pried open the door, and slipped through towards the madness.

[Resolve]

Her pale blue eyes glistened with unbridled glee. "And there's a minotaur?"

Gus nodded. "Y… yes?"

That was all the incentive Resolve needed to take off down the pier, a flurry of beads and devilishly sheer fabric as sandaled feet carried her swiftly to the hall by the shore. The establishment in question had already made itself obvious with the wide berth other tourists had decided to give it, the fleeing bodies, and the telltale music of things being broken.

The attendant manning the high striker glared and pointed after her. "She took my hammer!" She looked to Gus and Gus looked back, and she dropped her head in resigned mourning for the lost cause. "I'll get another one from the supply shed."

The exorcist burst through the front entrance without the hesitation of a weaker –– smarter? –– individual, and dodged a patron's flailing form as she did. She took quick stock of the bar's contents: some men, some women, an ogre, and… wait! That wasn't just any tentacle monster, that was the kid from the Cell!

But she had no time to consider the possible rematch this meant as her eyes met with black, beady counterparts affixed to a much taller, much scarier creature. The minotaur had just snapped a chair he'd caught over someone's back, given an opening while the ogre stepped up to take the brunt of the tentacle-kid's assault. She shared momentary eye contact with the bullish being, cavernous nostrils flaring around the gold ring that linked them, and then he brushed her off, opting to clothesline a passing guardsman than bother with the likes of her.

She sizzled, clenched her fists around the mallet she'd forgotten she had, and just as she began to move forward, a large, warm hand grasped her shoulder.

"Remember," Otto said, hunched over her. This posture served partly to get her attention, partly to protect his colorful drink from spillage as the free-for-all boiled around them. "We're here to help get this under control."

Resolve stared up at her conscience –– er, Otto –– with resistance, then reluctant acceptance, then urgency. "Look out!" she shouted. Someone had stalked up beside him with the remains of a stool likely meant for his head, and she swung. The mallet met with the offender's arm with enough force that he dropped his weapon immediately, stumbling aside over a toppled table where he clutched his maimed limb to himself.

"Oh," the girl looked at the hammer in her hands. It was crafted from hardwood, comically sized, and painted with rainbow stripes. "Uh, this is for you!" She shoved it in Otto's free hand, blew him a kiss, and dashed into the fray before he could press his morals upon her further.

She dodged some tentacle fodder as she made her way toward the minotaur, who still refused to pay her presence heed. If only she was a big, scary orc too –– then no one would ignore her!

"Hey!" she shouted at the beast, who had double-fisted two members of the watch and was giving them turns being thrown out the beach-facing windows to a doom of sand-filled faces.

Those beady eyes glanced her way once more, gave her an apathetic look-over, and he turned back to the task at hand. As he poised to toss the second guardsman, something clocked him in the side of the head perhaps a little harder than he had expected, and he dropped his victim roughly to the floor.

When he turned to face his assailant, the exorcist had already summoned another fistful of concussive energy. It sparked, highlighting the intricate white designs embedded in her dark skin, as well as the fierce musculature her swimsuit exposed. Perhaps, if he wasn't thrice her size, he might have been intimidated. He swung at her as if dealing with a pest, a housefly he might squash without effort. But when she dodged his massive arm with astounding ease and drove a fist into his gut with strength someone her size shouldn't be allowed to have, he raged.

The minotaur's irritated roar filled the tavern, loud enough to disorient those unfortunate to be close by, but to Resolve, it sounded like sweet, sweet music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RAQXg0IdfI). She grinned and attacked again.


The ogre focused on Talen, giving Resolve an opening to engage the minotaur.

[Ashla]

Ashla was excited for tonight. Tonight, she would be having a reunion with her old crew. Julius Tabor and her had seperated paths to protect each other from the Order of the Crimson Hand. Julius and Ashla were engaged. Meanwhile, Gwen was Ashla's hyper but sweet cousin, bathing herself in buisness with the Trading Company. Gwen was deemed by Julius to be Ashla's "body guard", but Gwen refused to get involved with Ashla's plans for her new group P.A.L.E. They still lived close to each other and even worked in the same room, but the girls rarely talked to each other today at this very pub she was just stepping into to kick back, relax, and catch up.

Ashla was so excited, she would finally be able to tell Julius that they were having a baby! Ashla found out about a month after they left paths, so Julius didn't even know the Icebreaker was three months pregnant.

Of course though, what was the first thing Ashla saw? A bunch of intoxicated people fighting each other. Ashla sighed and placed her hands on her hips, how was she and the others be able to enjoy themselves with THIS mess going about. The Icebreaker shook her head, Morons...

Just then though, a table was thrown and caused a beer to fly onto her head, the mug fitting her like a cute little hat...

Her eyes turned from blue to ice, anger intensified. Somebody was going to pay for that...

Ashla is standing in front of the door fuming, waiting for someone to tick her off even more... xD

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Fight, Maddy, Fight! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5w251QyDq_U)

I'm not going to waste your time establishing why I was in the tavern.

It's a tavern. You're here to drink. If you need any more setup than that, then you're an idiot.

But anyway... Diggs, Hedge, and I were in Serenti for whatever stupid reason, and had heard about this new place. So here we are, not even for ten minutes, and suddenly there's this fight breaking out. Because what better way to break in a new watering hole than some unnecessary bloodshed and broken bones between ruffians, right?

Hedge wanted to stick around and check out the action, and maybe get a piece of it himself, but Diggs and I wished to leave. There's no telling what could happen once the ol' rusty bucketheads arrived, and lately I desired to keep a low profile. I've been in enough trouble lately, and didn't feel like adding any more to my plate. The three of us stood up as the chaos erupted around us, and made a beeline towards the door.

It was in that moment that I felt something firm and slimy wrap itself around my waist, pick me up off the ground, and toss me across the room like a stuffed animal.

Have you ever felt the unique sensation of flying? It's not all its cracked up to be.

I came to a sudden, thunderous, crashing stop against the soft body of another person. An ogre and minotaur, two of the brutes who started this whole mess, glanced at my prone form for a split second, before turning their attention back towards others who had decided to pick fights with them. I laid upon the body of the third person, groaning, my brain rattling around inside my skull. I shook my head, trying to clear the stars that were swimming in front of my eyes.

I took a look at the son of a bitch who tossed me clear across the tavern. He was this little boy, surrounded by shadowy tentacles, and it slowly dawned on me that I knew this little shit. We had crossed paths in the Citadel and various combat tournaments before. Th' hell was his name? Talen? Yeah, that sounded right.

Quickly rising to my feet, I let a venomous curse rip through the tavern, somehow managing to be heard over the rest of the din of shouting sailors and shattering furniture. "You little fucker!" I clenched my fists and took two steps towards the shadowy bastard before I felt someone strong grab me by the hair and wrench me back. I turned to see the scarred, hardened glare of the woman with rusty hair pulled back in a ponytail, fierce emerald eyes ablaze with anger, and, curiously, her jaw replaced by an iron approximation, including a molded metal lip and sharp, rust-flecked teeth.

A small smile started to part my lips--because it was so sad-looking, mind you--but was quickly extinguished by a vicious right hook that sent me stumbling a few steps away.

I wiped my lip with a vine-knit finger, and found blood. Just one or two drops; but it was enough. My vision turned red. I momentarily forgot about my two comrades making their escape at the other end of the bar. I would join them as soon as I taught this bitch a lesson.

I howled in rage as I burst forward, dodging another one of the woman's blows and countering with a solid uppercut to her iron chin. I could feel the metal crumple underneath the force of my strike. Several of her proper teeth cracked, and a spurt of blood escaped from between her lips, splattering me in the face. After this was through, not even the best blacksmith in Serenti would be able to reset her ugly mug.

[Andy Rorton]

"Wow, Mr. Andy," the waitress, one of the few humans working at the establishment sat across from the gunslinger at the table. He made sure to give the girl a hefty extra in her tips to make sure he bought her company for the night. "I didn't know Letho Ravenheart even had a brother!"

"That's right Miranda," Andy Rorton said just before he took a sip of his beer, "Andy Ravenheart. That is me."

This was the third night in a row Andy Rorton conned his way into some girl's undergarments. The night before this one he claimed to be a famous surgeon in Raiaera and the day before that he touted himself a big shot law maker in Lornius. Most of the young women who worked the tavern barely traveled out of their home city, let alone to different countries and this allowed the legend killer to be anything he needed to be to 'get the job done' as it were.

He watched as admiration seemed to fill the emerald green eyes and her pink lips dropped open. He rubbed the back of his head as his eyes looked towards the bartender. The chubby barkeep shook his head as he cleaned out a mug, and the gunslinger could have sworn he heard the drink dispenser call him a bastard. He would have let it slide.

But then, all hell broke loose.

The fighting happened all around Rorton as he continued to flirt with the now scared waitress. Upon the first blow, the girl nearly jumped out of her chair and straight into the lap of her generous benefactor. He smiled as he tilted the bottle of beer once again to his lips, his eyes slinked down the blouse of the woman (whose name Rorton could not even remember thanks to lack of caring).

Whether it was the plant thing brawling, or the fact that Talen Shadowalker was simply present, but something spooked a nearby centaur. This would not have effected Rorton in the slightest but the half-man used his horsey hindquarters to back kick the legs of Andy's chair. The sudden jolt caused the legend killer to rise to his feet and in the process hoist up the beer maiden. Andy's beer however, fell to the ground and shattered with enough force that one would think a Mystic were in the bar.

"Excuse me one moment, darling," Rorton asked as he set the waitress down and turned to see the felon who committed the party foul. He grabbed the tail of the beast and gave it a hard pull. When the horse-man turned, his neck quickly became the new resting place of Rorton's whip, Flair. The gunslinger threw the handle of the long range weapon upwards and jumped to grab it as it came back down. The rough leather managed to drape over one of the rafters, and the pulley system Rorton created brought the centaur upwards into the air.

He gasped and scratched at his neck as Rorton brought his six-shooter out and unloaded all six bullets into the chest of the beast. Though this would be enough to take out any normal man, the centaur writhed in pain and blood dripped from his abs. Rorton looked dead into the black eyes of his victim as he jumped and turned in mid-air. His arm wrapped around the neck of the beast at the exact time that the whip released said neck. Rorton and the creature's bodies flew through the air and straight through one of the bar room tables as the legend killed finished his signature move.

"BAH GAWD!" the chubby bartender shouted as he dropped his mug, "THAT BASTARD RORTON! HE JUST BROKE THAT CENTAUR IN HALF! YOU SON OF A BITCH! THAT CENTAUR HAD A FAMILY!"

Rorton stood and turned to the now lifeless corpse of the half-man, half-horse. A bit of debris from the ceiling fell from the roof and Rorton reached out to grab his whip as it flew downwards. "Got yourself a crack in the ceiling there, RJ," Rorton said as he cracked his knuckles by tightening the grip on his whip, "Lets take out this trash so you can repair the damages and I can go back to getting bar maidens bedded."

[BlackGhostofSeaside]

Just outside the door of the pub they were supposed to meet, Julius ran into his girlfriend's crazy cousin Gwendolyn Stormhollow. Julius personally found Gwendolyn to be hyperactive and extremely optimistic. He really didn't like her... in most instances. Once in a while they got along.

The elf was just the way the black haired boy remembered her. Messy, blond hair, ragged but business like clothes, a bow and a quiver full of arrows on her back. Julius blinked, "Long time no see, Gwen?"

The girl seemed just as surprised to see him, "Julius! Hi! How are 'ya?"

Having not seen her in about three months, Julius found himself smiling at his awkward friend, "Escaping Crimson Hand agents over and over. How about you?"

Gwen seemed to bounce, "Eh, nothing much. Just working for the Trading Company and making sure Ashla doesn't get herself killed-"

"-So you kept your promise?" Julius was quick to jump in. Before he had left Ashla to keep her away from the Order of the Crimson Hand agents chasing him, he'd asked Gwen to keep Ashla safe. The elf was happy to oblige.

She bit her lip though, "I've been sticking pretty close to her up until about a month ago. We still stay close to each other, but we never talk cause-"

"-So she's alright??" If Gwen let anything happen to his girlfriend...

"Yeah, she's fine. A bit stressed though, caus-"

"-Where is she??" Julius was anxious to see her face to face again.

Gwen remained calm though, tilting her head to the door, "Most likely already is here. She took a five minute head start walking here."

"-Great!" Julius took no time in rushing in...

Inside, it was chaos. A massive bar fight was going on, it all even looked like a blur. The one thing Julius caught though was the person closest to the door. Ashla Icebreaker... who had a beer on her head.

[Green Gwendolyn]

Gwen rolled her eyes as she followed Julius into the pub. So overprotective...

She walked into an... interesting mess... everybody was fighting left and right, knocking teeth out and punching already black and blue eyes. Gwen blinked and looked towards the two people in this room she instantly remembered, Julius and Ashla.

Ashla had her black clothes soaked from a drink that had been spilled all over her. A beer mug was placed neatly on top of her head like a top hat.

"Classy..." Gwen weirdly smirked, walking next to Julius and observing the very irritated face she had. Neither Julius nor Ashla said a word.

Well..., Gwendolyn thought, This is interesting...

One more post with Ashla then you guys can start including my team into the fist fighting action!

[Ashla]

Ashla was happy to see Julius' face again, but she hated that he was able to see her soaking wet in a liquid drug.

Julius, obviously, seemed amused. The small grin said it all, "I... like your hat..."

Ashla was too angry to handle this conversation nicely, "Julius... do not make the pregnant lady angry..."

It was only seconds after she said it that she realized her error. Julius' smile of amusement faded slowly, "Wait... wut??"

Gwendolyn, thankfully (not), was always there for her. "Oh right! Co-congratulations, Ju-uli-i-i-ius, you're a daddy now!"

"Wait... WHAT!??"

"I hope it's a girl..."

Ashla flinched, her boyfriend was taking this a bit badly, "J-J-Julius, we have a family!" She attempted to console him, "Isn't that something you always wanted?"

Julius gritted his teeth, "Not. this. soon."

"... a cute little girl!" Gwen obviously was getting carried away in her own little world now; leaving Ashla and Julius to stare awkwardly at each other for several moments before...

"... what did I do to deserve this?"

"Julius, this is a blessing!"

"How come you didn't let me know?!?"

"Well, I found out a month later than when we went all solo-meo. I had no idea where you were."

"Oh."

More silence - minus the blond elf rambling about some "bridal shower."

Ashla pouted, "... Thanks for leaving me, by the way."

Julius broke the trend of only mouths moving a flung his arms, turning more directly to her, "We were doing it to protect each other!"

Ashla sneered at him, daring to take a step closer, "It still hurt my feelings!"

Julius took his palm to his face, then let it slide to his side. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"Do you mean that?"

Julius blinked.

"Are you really sorry?" Ashla questioned him. Julius could see a cold black in her eyes. Emptiness. Julius took her hand.

"Ashla, you mean everything to me. I missed you dreadfully while I was alone out there, an-"

A crash interrupted their deep conversation. Both heads darted to where Gwendolyn was holding the remains of a broken mug, her left leg dripping with beer. "Mind doing that again before I whack the crap outta you!?!"

Julius and Ashla sighed, then spoke at the same time, "Oh no."

[Pestarzt]

Sometimes a single, innocuous event can change the world in the most unpredictable way. Flipping Fortuna's coin infinite times leads to countless tallies of heads and tails, but inexorably it will also land on its side. In that instant, when the routine chain of constant cause and effect is broken, the shock felt from the unusual outcome is intense.

And sometimes you crack an ogre in the face, he tumbles into a table, and a tavern erupts in violence. Alex was glad it was one of these times.

His heart was beating a mile a minute and screaming with every pulse. His head swirled and his eyes darted back and forth, catching every blow he could spot. The ogre pushed some kid, who preceded to smash him in the face before sprouting fell tendrils and flinging patron and table alike. A minotaur ran to take him out, only to have some girl with hell on her heels throw a punch that seemed to bend the fabric of reality straight into its gut. The iron jawed maiden with copper in her hair had stepped up to Alex, only to have her attention drawn to what looked like a dour Dr. Isley, who preceded to turn her metal mandible into a dented scrap heap.

Of course, none of that compared to the action happening center ring. A centaur had picked a fight with the wrong man. Hot blooded, machismo'd, and maybe blue-balled, the man went about hanging the beast before plugging it in the gut six times and breaking it through a table. The bartender behind him screamed in elation, but all Alex saw was the centaur's life ended in moments. There was a palpable sadness that crept up his throat, only marred by one simple thought.

”That was awesome.” If someone hadn't died, he might have even given a holler himself.

But with all the action going on around him, he couldn't help but feel a little left out. He had started the whole damned affair, even if it wasn't his intention, in inhaled the sickening smoke that drove him into a blood-tinted frenzy. Alex felt stood-up after getting all dolled out for the dance. He wanted a piece of the action, and found he not had his crowbar firmly in his hand, having removed it from his belt instinctively. He needed a smoke, something to cool his head. Then, he wanted to jump right in and smash that murder's face into jelly.

Salvation was lit up by the doorway as Alex caught sight of what he assumed was the most inappropriately dressed waiter in bar fight history. The orc had almost a foot on him, and a body of gray muscle that made him look a statue of salvation personified – with an ice cold drink as the key.

Alex's head, though occupied with a primal carnage, still knew what was important. He dashed over towards the orc in something that was part skip, part stumble, and all swagger, and used his free hand to snatch the technicolor drink from his grasp. Three more people stood by the door, but known of them had drinks they weren't wearing so Alex didn't care. He managed to get his mask half-off with rapid neck jerk and an audible crack, before guzzling the tasty beverage down like it was mana from heaven. He let the glass slip from his fingers and smash on the floor, readjusting his mask until it was only part-way crooked.

“Less ice, less sugar, more booze in the next one,” he mumbled as he patted his new friend on the shoulder. “Keep 'em coming and you'll be the naz.” Alex spun around and readied his weapon for the fray.

“If they won't come to me,” he tweaked. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG1NrQYXjLU)

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Jaws hadn't learned her lesson after the first uppercut. Her rusting teeth, now resembling a lumberjack's hacksaw more than proper chompers, had punctured and shredded the flesh of her upper lip. This didn't stop her from swinging at me wildly with her fists. I effortlessly dodged each of her blows, as we weaved through the chaos. Somewhere nearby, six sharp retorts of a pistol cracked through the chaos.

The redheaded woman came at me with a wild right hook, and I decided that I had enough. I brought my vine-braided hands up and trapped her arm, twisted it around in a manner that pushed her down on one knee, and swiftly brought my left hand down onto her exposed elbow. Even over the shouts of patrons and the shattering of windows, glasses, and furniture that suffocated me, the distinct cracking sounds of her bones were loud and clear, as was her resulting screams.

I let go of her arm, and she dropped down on her good elbow, cradling her freshly-broken limb. I could barely hear her sobbing and cursing as I placed one boot on the back of her head. Pushing off the ground with my other leg, I leaped high into the air, and let gravity help me drive the bitch's face into the dirty wood floor of the tavern with a thunderous crunch. I could practically feel her face cave in underneath my foot.

Satisfied that she wouldn't be getting up for a while, I quickly scanned the tavern. Even through all the chaos, I could see that Diggs and Hedge were able to sneak out. I figured it was high time for me to bail as well. I took two steps towards the door, then my heart stopped.

By the door, there was a figure clad in black, much like myself, save for three red ribbons crossing the front of her shirt. Her hair was black as the night, save for a few brown streaks. Her features were sharp, and a bit on the pale side. I didn't have to think back to my reports to know exactly who she was.

Ashla Icebreaker, on-the-run princess of the frozen, war-torn hellhole that is Eiskalt.

And here I was, the Scourge of Eiskalt, the woman singlehandedly responsible for the plague that was currently tearing her homeland apart.

Curse my bastard's luck, if she notices me here, she's going to want to kill me.

--Actually, wait, no. This is perfect, just absolutely perfect. Despite--or maybe because of--Lichensith Ulroke's utter failings as a leader and the absolute mess the Eiskalt War had become as a result of them, Ashla was still one of the most wanted people by the Order of the Crimson Hand. She still had a fat bounty on her head, dead or alive. She was still being hunted. And here she was, not thirty feet away from me, in this dumpy little tavern, in this dumpy little port town.

Yes, this was perfect. Bless my bastard's luck!

I clenched my briar-knit fists, a snarl crossing my lips. "Ashla Icebreaker!" I screamed (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKzWLUQizz8), my voice rising above the din of the brawl. My boots sounded against the wooden floor like thunder as I took quick, heavy steps towards my young target.

Somebody stop Madison--she's gonna' kill the poor girl! Next person to post who needs to fight someone has my permission to bunny her being pulled away and engaging in a fight with you.

[Otto]

Six shots. They echoed down and down through Otto's ears.

This wasn't a fight.

This was becoming a slaughter.

Otto blinked out of the daze, raised the glass to his lips, and slapped himself in the face with an empty hand. He frowned, but memory was catching up - just in time to see the masked fellow disappear between the press of bodies, in the direction of the gunshot.

Otto's eyes narrowed.

He stepped back from the ruckus, though, and quickly made his way along the wall towards the bar. He probably didn't do a good job of staying inconspicuous, with his rainbow-spiral mallet and polka-dot wayfarers, but no one bothered him. Otto guessed everyone was either too busy, incapacitated, or dead to try, or not drunk enough to want to. A couple of bottles exploded on the wall around him, though his glasses kept the shrapnel out his eye. Their broken remnants were crunched to powder under his leathery heels as he strode on towards the terrified bartender.

The man was desperately defending his little sanctuary with a stout hawthorn club. He raised it threateningly as Otto approached, wild-eyed and sweating.

""Nononononono AH HELLS BELLS DON'T Y'ALL COME ANY CLOSER! I'LL HIT YA HARDER THAN YOUR MAMA WITH A SWITCH, BOY!"

Otto vaulted over the bartop, and immediately stepped back as the cudgel whistled in. He bounced forward again after it had sailed past, and deftly closed a massive paw around the weapon.

"I told Gus I'd help look after the stock," Otto breathed into the man's ear. He let go, stepped back, and looked towards the scuffle. "But I think I need to stop them killing each other, now."

A familiar voice called out from the back room. "Boss and I can handle that," said Gus, appearing through the staff entrance. "But a distraction would be appreciated."

"Alright." Otto thought for a second. He looked up at the pair. "What's your biggest, fizziest barrel of ale?"

The bartender fidgeted nervously with his stick. "WELL, THE BRAEN LAGER'S A FULLY CASK-CONDITIONED HIGH-MALT BEER WITH A KICK LIKE A DAMNED MULE, AS GOD IS MY WITNESS. WHY D'YOU..."

"Where is it?"

The cudgel rose and pointed at a huge, untapped barrel at the rear of the bar. It didn't look one gallon shy of two score. Otto pressed the mallet into Gus' hands, and stepped forward. Determination gleamed like gold in his eyes.

"Put it on my tab (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eutd9uxYO1Y)," he told the bartender. "And get out while you can."

The two staff watched as Otto flexed, stretched, and embraced the barrel in both arms. Muscles rippled beneath his skin as he took the weight. Shoulder blades moved like tectonic plates under an iron tundra. The barrel scraped slowly out, hesitantly at first - but its resistance was short lived. With a mighty grunt, Otto pulled it from its bed and clasped it to his chest. Then, very carefully, he began to jostle it up and down.

The bartender gulped. ""BAH GAWD OTTO! THAT'S GOTTA BE TWENTY FIVE HONKY SWILLIN' STONES! DON'T DO IT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T DO IT!"

The barrel began to gurgle sinisterly, at which point Otto stopped. He shifted the grip so it was cradled underarm, bung pointed forward. He nodded at Gus. "You know what to do?"

Gus smiled and held up the mallet. "Certainly, sir."

The two of them hustled around the bar. Otto spent a split second searching for his quarry, and found it by the broken corpse. A man in a strange mask, and the whip-wielding maniac. He turned to his elven friend and nodded.

"Sir looks a bit shy on drink!" he screamed at Alex. The mallet swung down in a prismatic flash, knocking the bung right out and unleashing malted fury. "How about a top-up?"

A twenty bar jet of refreshing goodness picked Alex up off his feet and hurled him towards the door. Otto saw the figure slam into a short, black-haired woman heading determinedly for the exit (which he felt a little guilty about), and nodded in satisfaction. Otto then switched the stream to the crazed gunman, whom the orc bore down on like the long, beer-soaked arm of the law that Otto was.



Otto improvises a beer cannon, blasts Alex into Maddy (distracting the latter from Ashla), and is approaching Andy Rorton to inflict a world of righteous hurt. I am indebted to Cal for edits to the bartender's dialogue.

[Doge]

A dog upon the wind (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DohRa9lsx0Q)
What is a dog to do, when the world is a crazy place? The war was something else. I get fighting, trust me, I’m a dog. But traveling halfway around the world to do so? Humans… But this was my cross to bear. As a dog of destined to serve justice, nay a dog imbued with justice, I had my role to play.

My paws of justice-dealing scrapped along the cobblestones of the street as I sniffed out my next adventure. Things had been a bit slow between adventures, to be true, but the search for righting wrongs doesn’t rest (though I’ve been known to indulge in the odd snooze). Stone turned to wood, and the air a wonderful bouquet of fish and urine. I had to pause slightly as a man came out of a window and landed on the ground in front of my. My keen senses dectected trouble within this building, perhaps it was the sound of chairs being broken over people’s heads, or perhaps it was the man on the ground lifting a bloodied hand towards me and whispering ’help’, but I could not shake the feeling there was something going on that needed my attention.

I burst through the door. My paws striding with confidence into the mayham as the scene was painted before me. I felt my entry may have slightly been overshadowed by the sudden, and rather bloody death of someone.

No! No!

The injustice was pungent in the air as plant woman hurt a metal woman. I darted forwards, moving between legs (both human and wooden) towards the bar. I knew that from that vantage point I could attract people’s attention. It look a bit longer than I had expected, but after several blocked paths and an inability to see where I was going in the chaos I emerged at the bar. I jumped onto a table, then onto the bar.

It was as this point that a man, who looked surprisingly like my cousin Mr Puggelsworth, the pug, sprayed me with beer. Unfortunately my mighty, and righteous heart is somewhat bigger than my body, and I was propelled backwards to land on a table, drenched in some disgusting liquid.

Perhaps it was being right in the middle of a righteous battle, or some dastardly effect of the Pug-man’s liquid, but I started to feel like I was floating. I made my way back to the bar, cognisant of the strangle weightlessness of my body, but heavy feeling in my my head. I reached the bar, and started at the man I would call Mr Puggelsworth for the time being (as indeed I do not know his name). Soaking wet, eyes wide with the weight of justice, I looked at Mr Pugglesworth as he descended on another man pleaded for the carnage to stop.

“Bawooo” I said.

[Andy Rorton]

Rorton did not even have to feel all the eyes upon him to know that they were. He responded in kind by lifting both of his arms into the air and nodded, his lips pursed as if to say ‘the main event is here people’. Some clapped at the glorious display of carnage, some gasped in absolute horror. Some question how a brawl became the scene for a homicide. Rorton just wanted to leave with the waitress he spent so much time on to seduce and be done with the bar for the night.

The night appeared to have other plans.

A stream of booze flew through the air and carried with it a person that flew straight towards the plant thing. The gunslinger turned towards the source of the badass beer bombardment to find an orc had garnered all the eyes of the crowd. Rorton’s lip twitched and his shoulders jolted forward as though they were attack dogs ready to strike. The orc seemed to take the cobra’s challenge to heart, and quickly began to approach.

“Playtime is over for you, sabretooth,” Rorton grumbled as he kicked some of the liquid on the floor into the air, “but it’s just starting for me (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FIke4Yn7tE).”

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small red bag. He smirked as he quickly reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of coal and scoffed. He threw the small black stone towards the determined orc as he continued to feel in the bag and pulled out what his attacker, the ‘good boy’ of the two desired more than anything else.

The legend killer did not expect to pull out a pair of feather-like, fluffy handcuffs from Santa’s bag. The metal of the accessory seemed to be a little large for a normal person’s wrists, though he supposed they could be adjusted to fit whatever size they needed to be. Rorton smirked and cocked an eyebrow at the orc. “They do kinkier things to the subspecies here, huh? Guess I’ll make the best of a bad situ—“

The orc was upon him.

The larger creature threw his arms forward, his target the arms of the gunslinger. Andy quickly ducked as fast as he could and threw the handcuffs upwards. A smile was brought to the forefront of Andy’s mouth, a look that quickly disappeared as he slipped on some of the lavish liquor that littered the floor. He hit the wood with a hard ‘thud’, and could feel his back throb in pain at the impact. Rorton looked up to see that he had lost the grip on his handcuffs, but found himself face to face with a pair of swim trunks with a strange bulge.

Rorton did not think about what to do next. Without hesitation, he grabbed the gun back from its holster, this time by the barrel. He swung for the fences with the handle of his firearm with the hopes that a pistol-whip dick shot (no pun intended) would provide him with not only the win against the much larger foe, but with the crowd’s attention once more.

“OH HELLS BELLS!” the bartender announced the action as it happened, “THAT GODLESS BASTARD RORTON IS GONNA GET AWAY WITH A DAMN CHEAP SHOT!”

[Green Gwendolyn]

Gwen titled her head when a dark haired woman raced towards Ashla - only to have another person slammed into her, both sent flying.

Gwen gave into her temptation to laugh as she stepped in front of her cousin, drenched in triple the amount of liquids she was. The blonde cracked her knuckles, "I think I know who's getting punched!"

Gwen glanced behind to see Julius also stepping in front of Ashla, meaning to defend her. As the princess of Eiskalt complained about her two companions being overprotective, Julius spoke to Gwen. "I'm watching Ashla, you are offensive. I'm defense."

A massive smirk crossed Gwen's face, "Sounds like a plan!" Gwendolyn stepped up to Ashla and took the glass mug off her head, "I'll take that, thank you."

The elf then chipped a piece of glass off and pulled out her leather slingshot. She stuck the glass in and smirked, aiming to sharp object towards the person who'd attempted to attack Ashla before. After letting it fly, hopefully landing s successful hit, Gwen chipped more glass off and loaded her missile weapon up again. This is going to be fun!

Julius is protecting Ashla in the corner while Gwendolyn is attempting to attack Maddy in her dumb blondeness. If anyone tries to attack Ashla, remember they have to attempt to get rid of Julius first! Gwendolyn is just joining the fun over here xD

[Remedy]

Meet me in the tavern by the docks.

Talen’s words bounced around in my head like the gulls I had passed on the way. The little bastard normally meant well, and sure, he threw some decent business my way now and then… but that day…

I stood in the doorway of the hall, looking at something that resembled a war scene rather than the quiet tavern as described. It looked like a who’s who of people you don’t want to piss off. I knew some of them by description. The grey orc with a penchant for flowery drinks and jazz seemed to be at the bar; Otto something. Andy Rorton was there too, him I knew because he had slapped me on the ass a few nights ago like I was one of those bawdy ale wenches with more breasts than brains. Talen of course I recognised, little bastard was right in the thick of it. The trio near the door looked familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

I made to turn and leave when I was shoved back in. I’d learn later that the minotaur, ogre and metal-jawed woman were part of a group of non-humans that had been causing trouble recently. One of their number had gone for help as soon as Talen had king-hit the ogre. Now the mix of races, who might have served to break up our little skirmish, saw one of their number dead and another with a face much further pressed into the ground than should be possible.

I was shoved to the side by big, furry hands and stumbled backwards. My hand caught the window sill, recently separated from the glass that had been therein. My heart stopped as I felt the leather on my suit catch and tear. My leather outfit was far from fashionable, but it was important. It stored magic, my magic to be precise. With it I had a tendency to, set things on fire. I pulled my hand free, but blue flames were already licking their way across my hand and sprayed out over the non-humans. Another minotaur copped the worst of it as flames burned through his coarse hair and filled the air with that horrible burnt hair smell. I myself turned and ran, jumping over chair and tables as fire sprayed over everyone around me.

Remedy enters, followed by some more people to cause issues. She accidently burns some of the new NPCs, and flings fire towards Ghost’s characters; Ashla and Julius.

[Hysteria]

Talen loved a good fight. He haunted the Citadel halls so well that it would make a ghost proud. But, he didn’t kill without reason over something quite as petty as a bar brawl. It was true that someone could die due to a misplaced chair or odd fall, but that was luck, not action. When Andy Rorton saw fit to kill the minotaur he crossed a line. He didn’t do so alone though, another brawler took someone else to the very end of life. Talen hadn’t recognised Madison Freebird when he had picked her up and thrown her, but he certainly did now.

There were three options to the little knight as he saw it. He could either run away, try and stop the fight, or make it worse. The minotaur’s death was a shame, but now people knew what was at stake. If they stick around now… well that’s their fault.

Talen turned and vaulted away from the rest of the fight and leapt up onto the wall. Somewhat like a spider of his chosen god; Talen defied the laws of nature and sat with his back against the wall, half way up. He lifted his hands and his zodiac weapon materialised in a twist of shadows. The twin snakes, in the rifle mode, was a twisted black firearm baring the scales of their namesake.He lifted it towards Andy as he wrestled a half naked orc.

phooonk

The canister of gas trailed through air towards Andy and Otto. The toxin had been taken from Madison during the Eiskalt war. Talen didn’t know what the result of him using the toxic princess’s own poison with her in the room, but like a kid poking a hornets nest, he itched to see what would come from it. The effect on Andy and Otto, and even the dog that had appeared near them, might have been much worse. The poison was nearly debilitating if inhaled.

Across the otherside of the hall Talen hadn’t noticed the appearance of Remedy, something the Aasimar would surely remind him.

Talen jumps on the wall and fires Madison’s Touch (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28117-Talen-Shadowalker-Chapter-11) at Andy, Otto and probably Doge.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Two figures, one elf, one human, drew closer to Ashla as I strode through the chaos that had erupted in the tavern. Their gazes met mine; I could see their reluctant bravery shine in their eyes. A tangle of vines, dripping with acid, grew from my wrists as I prepared to take out all my bottled up anger from the past several months on the poor, raven-haired wretch.

That's when it hit me--or someone hit me, I should say.

I felt a heavy, soggy weight collide with my back, catching me by surprise and pushing me to the floor. The side of my head cracked hard against the dirty wood. For a brief second I saw stars, but they quickly dissipated. My excellence in absorbing pain and quickly pushing it aside are just a couple of things on the short list of things I can be thankful to my parents for.

"Get off me," I growled as I twisted around underneath the figure. I squirmed around to get a good look at him. Covered head to toe in dark clothing, with what looked like a gas mask covering his face. Looked like some sort of storm trooper from an old sci-fi novel I read a few years back. I hooked his leg awkwardly with my right arm and half-pushed, half-pried him off me.

I quickly rose to my feet, only to be greeted by Ashla's blond elf cohort holding what appeared to be a child's slingshot and a chunk of a beer glass. I didn't have time to react before the girl let 'er rip. The shard traveled through the air, catching me on the right side of my face, about an inch underneath the temple.

I howled in pain as glass left a shallow cut along the side of my face. Warm, sticky blood slowly began to ooze from the wound. I let loose an incredibly loud, incredibly venomous curse as the elf reached for another piece of glass nearby. This stupid bitch was going to die for that! Rising to my full height, my right hand shot down to the holster that held my flintlock revolver, The Last Resort. I tore it from the holster, brought it up, aimed at the dead center of the elf, accounted for any sudden movements she might make, and pulled the trigger.

Ideally, Maddy is going to get Gwen in the shoulder with a bullet from her gun. I'm not looking to kill.

[Philomel]

Idly walking by, Philomel had been going about her evening business.

There had been no good reason for her to be in Serenti. A message from Leaf had brought her here, asking if she wanted to come see some interesting new breed of fungus (hurrah, huzzah) he had found. Her enthusiasm for his mushrooms was usually expressed in her flat refusal to eve reply to his letters, but this time she had come, bored out of her skull for the sake of a lack of business in Radasanth. Apparently it was too hot to have sex in the dead heat of summer.

So she had sat through a solid hour of his blabberings about "vestio, venus, transpikidos" or some such nonsense, yawned and stood up to go find some lonely man to get some dealings off. Dressed in her dragon scale breast plate and suited up with all weapons minus her sword she decided to try the hard-ass-bitch look tonight, and see what it was that was so fascinating about this place for some people.

Serenti was not much different from Radasanth, or Underwood, or, indeed, the Seventh Sanctum. It had pubs and hotels and town halls, just like any other, complete with a ridiculous amount of creatures - but as usual, no other fauns. She sniffed a little, folding her arms and strode by, trying to find a place to ply her trade when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye that she had thought never to see again.

Yellow fluff.

Yellow. Beige-yellow, not exactly a bright yellow but something natural and almost custard-like. Fluffy, ridiculously so, like a lion or a bear cub or a poodle.

The yellow disappeared for a moment, and Philomel looked away, shaking herself. Angrily. No. She was going mad, obviously. The mushroom rant had got to her head and now she was losing it. Turning around she aimed for a side ally, only to be caught by another image again.

A curled tail. Tiny feet.

You are Drys-damned kidding me.

Silently she drew a throwing knife from the hilt on her thigh, business for the night forgotten. The ally before her was dark, brooding, like a snake ready to strike, and it opened out onto a main street. As Philomel's eyes focused on the tiny beast, that mutt she had thought never to see before she began to walk, steadily, towards it. One step, two, down towards the mongrel. As she stepped, however, a noise came to her ears. A loud noise, brutish and violent.

Smash. Wallop. Cries.

Suddenly the mutt disappeared. Its tiny feet carried it beyond the sight of her and into the light of the main street, onwards where the noise was echoing from. Cursing once more, the faun-whore started to run, wincing as the noise began to grow louder. More smashes and breaking glass and swearing. Her hooves carried her loudly down the cobbled path, but the noise of them was drowned out, easily, by the chaos of violence.

I must find-

Skirting into the main street the faun-whore stopped dead. Her lips parted, slightly as she came in full view of the hellish despair. A pub, literally spilling over with people and full of as many punches and people as a dog fight has. Except this fight had no rules, and no limitation of people. It was just chaos itself, living en mass, bubbling over and spilling into the street.

Shake of a tail. Shake of the mutt's tail. She saw him disappearing into the crowd, and swearing by Drys to finally get her due and slaughter him, the faun-whore pikced up the pace again.

Silently she twisted the knife in her hand, flipping it so blade was first and hilt pointed up. A true precise blow would send it going, straight and perfect, hopefully right into his fluffy yellow heart. He was a mongrel, a menance, a spoiler of her attempt of heroism in Eiskalt, and an all-round annoyance in life. For some reason his very existence filled her with anger, because of his strange ways, his awkward way of speaking, his attempt to be charming when in fact he was so wrong, so very very wrong.

"Stupid mutt," she muttered, ducking under an elbow.

She pushed her way to the bar itself, shoving around a drawn knife and past a familiar few people with plants for arms and so on. But her aim was for the dog.

Pushing up with a small amount of energy she clambered onto the bar itself, and found a straight line to the beast. As pistols flared and other things were fired her hand flicked back and threw, launching the knife into the air. As Doge barked, she aimed, her only purpose here to kill him and end this irritating canine.


Philomel saw Doge in the street, followed him in. Her purpose is to kill him and nothing more.

[Resolve]

Resolve had succeeded in making sure her chosen opponent no longer underestimated her, but such may have been poor inspiration on her part. As the minotaur grabbed for her, she continued to dodge him easily –– he may have been built like a boulder, but he moved like one, too. It all seemed to be in good fun, at the very least, until shots rang through the tavern and a centaur collapsed with lead in his chest.

“Shit,” the girl hissed. Why did some rando have to spoil things for the rest of them? She didn’t have time to consider her next course of action as the minotaur finally landed his paws on her, pulling her to his chest with his massive arms in an attempt to crush the breath out of her. She gasped under the first bit of pressure… then vanished from his grasp, leaving him baffled and frustrated.

The exorcist appeared again directly behind the beast man. In the split second he needed to puzzle out what had happened, she wrapped her solid little arms around his neck to reciprocate. He reeled only momentarily, and then she found herself quickly cushioned between his immense weight and the solid tavern wall. It nearly knocked the wind out of her, and as she struggled to breathe, she reached up and grabbed the large, golden ring in his nose. She yanked.

It came clean away with nearly no effort, revealing itself to be false. This caused a pause in the minotaur, likely due to embarrassment.

“It’s fake?” Resolve berated him. “Weak,” she accused, and in that moment, Otto let loose the beer cannon. This pair’s position near the bar saved them from the alcohol-laced rain and continuous clusterfuck of the rest of the patrons, but for the distracted girl, that didn’t necessarily mean she was safe. The minotaur took this opening to grab her by the upper arms and pull her over his head. He made little of her fairly insignificant weight, hurling her toward the bar. She slid over the counter and fell down behind, narrowly missing the ‘tend and taking out a good number of wine glasses along with her.

For a good moment, the girl floundered in a daze punctuated by dozens of tiny shards of glass, but she knew she couldn’t stay there. She gathered her wits and pulled herself up, ignoring the many little cuts which now bled enthusiastically down her arm and back. So much was going on at once –– it was hard to focus!

Naturally, her eyes sought Otto first, and what she saw concerned her deeply. He went after the gun-toting brute next, and as the villain moved to retaliate, she sparked.

Resolve blinked out of sight, then reappeared behind Otto. With her un-bloodied arm, she attempted to shove him aside before damage could be done; with the other, she conjured a blast of energy and directed it straight into the crotch of Andy’s prone form. Vengeance (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVoMCuemhxc)!


The minotaur threw Resolve behind the bar, and she emerged just in time to see Otto go after Andy. She teleported in an attempt to push Otto out of harm’s way and give Andy a taste of his own medicine… but it’s up to you guys how successful she was in doing that! (And this post was mostly catch-up –– Rez will be most certainly affected by the poison in my next one.)

[Pestarzt]

As a child, Alex remembered his first sip of drink and the dreams of swimming in an endless sea of it. But having grown older, wiser even, he found fault with the reality of the situation. And if he ever told anyone that his dream included a nearly-nude orc waiter firing a foamy stream of beer at him from atop a bar – well, his parents had other reasons to send him to talk with someone, but it'd be the nail in the coffin. He found himself writhing on top of angry, and surprisingly bony, plant woman. A yellowish dog had run in and declared itself a challenger on counter top, the creepy shadow-kid had clung to a wall and released poison gas, the orc was about to get his junk smashed in by a crazy man -

”Is anyone else seeing this?” Had the keti pushed him into a full range of visual false flags? His hallucinations had never come on so strong in the past. Sure, things wobbled from time to time with an occasional streak of unexplained light, but -

Alex found his head to be a less than optimal place to be as he was flung off of the verdant vixen and into the filthy, still pool of beer. His suit was soaked through, he could feel the satchel of tobacco in his pocket dampen and grow heavier, and his mask had even managed to retain a bit of it. ”Should have made it air tight.”

Shaking a bit, he rose to his feet, just in time for a shard of glass to embed itself in his thigh. The blinding scream of pain took its sweet time to get to his mind, giving him pause to notice the chaos that surrounded him. Thankfully, the open windows and doors near him and the roaring blaze meant the poison cloud's inevitable death slowed to a crawl. Maybe the fire would even engulf him first. Fire to the left him, poison to the right – there was a song in that, if only he could remember.

”Yup. Definitely going to make this air tight in the future.” Blood trickled down his leg unnoticed as he blindly grouped for a chair behind him. One of the legs had already snapped off in the melee, but he readied the thing above his head as soon as the woman had her back turned.

“IS THAT – HE'S GOT A CHAIR!” Screamed the man behind the bar, with the same vile smile Alex had wanted to hit earlier.

“Shut up!” The Pestartz yelled back as he splintered the wood across the girls back. She had managed to draw a weapon and pull the trigger, but even the recoil from it couldn't stop her from stumbling forward.

“WHY YOU SON OF A BITCH? WHY?!”

Behind his mask, Alex couldn't help but grin. He'd hero'd it up, maybe even saved someone from getting shot.

“Totally Batman,” he whispered in self-satisfaction. But he felt his stomach drop when the woman turned around with a look in her eyes that could have been an auspice for the apocalypse. The heat of the nearby, swirling fire had nothing on sear of that look.

I...uh...hit Maddy with a chair.

[Otto]

Otto fell aside with a whimper. As fast as Resolve had been, it wasn't fast enough; he spent the next couple of seconds in a state of expectant dread, his hands over his groin, and waited for the world downstairs to explode with pain. From his position on the ground, he found himself face-to-face with a small, custard-yellow dog. It barked at him indignantly.

Something hard smacked him in the face and rolled away.

"Argh," he said.

And, of course, things immediately got worse. Noxious, choking gas hissed forth from the container. Otto's eyes and nose began to sting, and the first choking hints of asphyxiation crept into his throat. Though the pain in his nether regions was far from forgotten, a sense of newfound urgency spurred the orc to his feet. He wrapped one arm around Resolve's waist - and after a split-second's thought, seized the small Akashiman hound by the scruff of its neck - and in a strangely athletic hobble, given its cross-legged and wincing nature, barreled through the mob towards the exit.

Now, Otto had been stabbed a few times before. So he had a good idea of what had happened when pain flooded through his right calf, but was already propelled by momentum and in no position to stop. The leg collapsed under the weight of his next step, and he stared down at the hilt of a throwing dagger which had buried deep into the muscle behind his shin.

Resolve wormed out of his grip. "Fuck!" she yelled in a hoarse voice, equal parts furious and concerned. "Where did that come from?"

"No idea," Otto tried to say. What came out instead was a horrendous, phlegmatic cough.

"Woof!"

Otto let Doge down. "Sorry," he wheezed, with tears burning their way down his cheeks. Gods, that gas stunk.

The shiba-inu cocked its head at Otto, and gave his nose a big lick.

Otto tore off one of the legs from his trunks, turning the item into a swimming-shorts/budgie-smuggler hybrid. Then he pulled out the dagger and knotted the fabric around his wound. No sooner had he finished than he felt a pair of strong arms lift him up. He leaned into Resolve, who propped him up and took the weight with no great difficulty.

"Mr Bastum, sir!" Gus called out. Otto glanced over to the bar, and saw the elf hurl the mallet back his way. Otto's vision was swimming, but he still managed to catch it with a minimum of fumble. Gus nodded to him once, and disappeared through the back room.

"Let's get the hell out of dodge," Resolve muttered.




Otto got Rez and Doge away from the gas' immediate zone, but has taken a decent beating so far. Otto and Rez are making their way further from the gas and away from the various lethal ballistics, but he's pretty open to attack at the moment.

[Ashla]

What on earth is going on??

A yellow dog came in out of nowhere, a cannon of beer was exploding (or something), people were ramming into each other... the only Ashla could see clearly from behind Julius was Gwen getting shot - as well as who shot her.

Ashla's eyes narrowed, Another Crimson Hand member to bite the dust...

Ashla pulled herself away from. Julius' shield of protection and jumped on one of the tables close to her cousin's fight.

Gwen was grasping her shoulder, slow to rise. She had been shot on the shoulder. Ashla called out to her, "Sit back, Gwen! I've got the next move!"

Before Gwen or Julius could stop her, Ashla formed one of her ice doves in her hands. Those babies tracked opponents and exploded upon impact with anything. The Icebreaker smirked before sending it towards Madison Freebird, a member of the group she called her arch enemies.

Gwen is shot in the right shoulder. Ashla has thrown one of her ice doves at Maddy.

[Andy Rorton]

Andy grinned as he holstered his weapon once more. The orc fell with a thunderous crack upon the wet wooden floor below. Before the legend killer could taunt his foe with some clever phrase, however, he saw the vision of a small lady in front of him. He opened his mouth to remark on how cute the girl looked in her summer wear, but was instead cut off by her blast. The attack didn’t hit its intended target thanks to Andy’s awkward position on the ground and instead the beam slammed into his knees and sent the gunslinger sliding across the beer soaked floor.

His head hit the wood almost as hard as Otto’s entire body head, and it caused his vision to go blurry. By the time he raised his face from the action, he could see some sort of gas and fire on one end of the bar. He made a note to thank his swimsuit angel before he stumbled to his feet. His eyes shifted around to look for his orcish rival only to find Otto busily trying to run with both Rorton’s saving grace and a dog.

Now, Andy Rorton had a very soft spot for canines, as they reminded him of his youth. The gunslinger spent most of his childhood years playing with the domesticated pups of his tribe, and never once did they seek any harm against him. In his mind, dogs were much kinder than humans could ever possibly be, so when he saw a knife embed itself in the large orc’s leg, Rorton could see the trajectory was meant for the furry animal.

His body trembled with anger and his vision started to recover more as he followed the trajectory of the knife to find a goat girl with her hand extended. He did not know what issues she had with the pup, but he would not allow for the half-beast to hurt the puppy. He looked around the floor below him and found a clear glass bottle. He sneered and reared his arm back before throwing the bottle straight towards the hand of Philomel.

“Orc!” Andy shouted through the vast chaos of the bar fight, “you’re my one last hope for getting that dog out of here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtTmR_v6pz4&index=4&list=PL5C96F329ACAEAA37)! Don’t fail me!” and with that, he followed up his bottle, his boots a splish splash against the boozy bar bottom. He jumped onto one of the tables and quickly leapt off to attempt a dropkick on the faun’s female face.

“BAH GAWD!” RJ shouted “SHE’S A WOMAN! DON’T YOU DARE DO THAT YOU MOTHERLESS SON OF A JACKASS!”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

A split second after the bullet left the chamber, I heard another crack of thunder rip through the tavern and felt a sharp, intense pain tear up through my back. As I lurched forward, crying out more in surprise than in pain, I nearly lost the grip on my gun. My back was on fire from the impact. What the hell had hit me? Who the hell had hit me?

I momentarily forgot about Icebreaker's blond friend and her slingshot. I whipped around, my eyes ablaze with anger, a nasty snarl twisting my face into something truly terrifying. (http://youtu.be/weqwpqhKtXA?t=5m17s) It was the the guy in the gas mask who had landed on me seconds ago. In his hands, he held the splintered remains of one of the tavern's chairs. At my feet, I noticed a seat broken in half, along with its legs, lying in a pile nearby, one of which was still rolling away towards the chaos of the brawl that continued around me.

The masked man looked at me, down at his hands still holding the remains of the chair, and then back up at me. He shifted back an almost imperceptible inch.

If looks could kill, he would've erupted in a shower of blood and flesh in the shape of a frowning sad face in that instant. I narrowed my gaze at him, and he took a step back, looking ready to bolt. "I'm not gonna' need this for you," I hissed as I jammed The Last Resort back into the holster on my hip. I took a step forward, he flinched, and then I was upon him before he could do anything to escape.

I swung wildly with my fists. The man in the mask immediately dropped the splintered wood and put his arms up in defense. He was able to block my first three punches with his forearms, but with each blow, he was visibly rocked to one side.

He retaliated with a haymaker of his own, aimed for my jaw. I effortlessly blocked the strike, and a thread of vine sprouted from my wrist and quickly wrapped itself around his arm, binding him to me. The boy's eyes went wide behind his mask as he struggled to loosen himself from my grip to no avail. A cruel smile crossed my lips as I quickly kicked him in the alone time place.

An incredible, high-pitched scream was muffled by the mask as my shin was met with a brief, squishy resistance. I released the vine wrapped around his wrist, and he crumpled to the floor in a whimpering heap. I immediately turned my attention back towards the front door of the bar, where Ashla and her two friends stood. The very second I spun around, I found a dove-shaped ice projectile heading straight towards me, catching me by surprise..

"Son of a--!" I cursed loudly and reflexively swing my left hand in the air in front of me. I backhanded the thing, only to watch it shatter into dozens of chunks and shards of ice before my very eyes. My left hand suddenly went very numb. I snarled again, trying hard to will my brair-knit fingers into working again. They twitched briefly, but I found myself unable to clench and open my fist. The numbing sensation had crept its way up my left arm as well, where other bits of ice had connected after the dove exploded.

A pool of acid began forming in my right hand, and immediately crystallized into thin, sharp shards of jagged amber glass. I glared at the half-elf as I thrust my working hand forward. The chunks of acid exploded into the air, looking to shred Icebreaker and her human protector to bits.

My furious shout rose above the din of the tavern. "You stupid whore! Die!"

Maddy's left arm is temporarily out of commission. Ashla and Julius have a storm of acidic shards coming at them in a cone that's five feet in diameter. It's traveling pretty darn fast.

[Philomel]

Damn it.

She cursed as a large bear of an orc swung into the path of her throwing knife. With a soft thuwmp it met with his thigh, and his back hid the mutt from view. Growling in faunish she slid off again from the bar, just as he turned to see where the knife may have come from and merged back into the anonimity of the crowd. As she did so a man fell into her path. He was brutish and too large for her liking. His presence was just shortly preambled by a throwing glass bottle, but she had already moved enough for it to simply smash against the side of another's head.

Legs kicked out. One, two, and they collided with her skull. Reeled off course for a moment she rollicked back, straight into the side of a human. With the two angered individuals either side of her Philomel paused, before ducking right the way down and headbutting the first assailant in the groin.

Once done she scarpered away, fast, ducking down and around to gain nearer the door where she could catch her breath and think of how to get to Doge once more.

So this is more than a bar fight ... this is a massacre.

Slowly, very slowly, she gained strength again, and stretched onto the tips of her hooves. The man who had kicked her ... she could not be sure where he was gone. But those at the very back she could see. Beyond a dispersing thing mist they had an archer and a couple of aristocrats - Drys above - the faun-whore recognised as being those very rulers of Eiskalt. Pausing for a moment she followed the group of people closer until she noticed someone a little more familiar. Silently she dropped back down to a half-crouch, thinking of how to get in contact with Madison Briarheart secretly and co-erce her into the faun's plan to end Doge's life.

However, aid was already at her hand. He had become aware of the violence from afar and ran as fast as he could. What the general Serenti populus thought of a fox wildly running through the streets, was another question, but for now it was satisfactory to know he was here. Small and lithe he dodged under a few feet until he came to her side, watching as she was forced to parry a blow, and then headbut a suave old wizard in the chest.

I am here, he said, nipping at the wizard's heels.

"I see that," she grinned, finishing off the man with a stern knee to the crotch.

Wizard down the two of them looked to each other, then grinned. As she related to him all the thoughts in her head and the desires, without even saying a word, he nodded.

I will take care of the beast, Veridian replied, After all, he was not of fair kind when we were on that roof of the church on the snowy island.

Philomel paused, wincing a little. The snowy island was Eiskalt, and that church was the same one she and Astarelle had first met in and had relations of an unusual kind (for war). Picking out a second throwing knife she changed the subject, and gestured to where the orc was trying to batter his way through the crowd, near him the muffled barks of the mongrel. Veridian nickered, agreeing in his voice, and turned around with a flick of his tail. Darting under the legs of the brawlers once more he left her to move deeper into the pub. He aimed for where Otto Batsum stood, a great tall bulk of a man, and where Doge most certainly was.

In a matter of seconds he saw him, taking a breath to mind any remnants of the poisonous gas - then he took a leap. He went from floor, straight to bar, then was flying for the mutt, jaws open and claws out, able to rip out a throat if he got the hold right.

[Hysteria]

Talen holstered his pistols and looked at the chaos unfolding around him. He had a good view from his vantage point when a thought hit him. Talen realised that had been pretty much ignored by everyone since the battle started. His rage softened and dissolved to be replaced by a cold feeling of depression and he slid down the wall. The shadow tentacles writhing on his back faded into nothing, and Talen pushed his hands into his pockets and started walking across the tavern.

The poison gas cloud, slowing dissipating from the thick green into a gentle malaise of toxin broke around Talen as he stepped over bodies and wood and walked through the chaos. A shot was fired near him, whizzing past and lodging into the wood. An orc carrying a dog stumbled around and Madison preyed on the weak.

Why do I bother?

“By Hromagh's hairy balls!” Exclaimed Talen, for a second thinking of Sei cuffing him over the ear for his profanity.

Talen had stepped over the broken table where he had been sitting and saw the remains of the treasure map. The acid in the juice had stripped away the ink and the top layers of the parchment. Underneath he could see darker lines. Talen snatched the map and held it up to the light, coincidently coming from some flames near the entrance. There had been a second map!

“Ha!” Talen glanced down at the table again and saw his juice box. He grabbed it and started walking passed Madison to the exit, sucking the straw as he did.

[Remedy]

“Shit shit shit!”

I watched as blows were traded right in front of me. The skinny bitch with the black hair was terrifying to say the least. Icy blows only stunned her, but at least she had holstered that gun. I swivelled my head side to side, but I was caught unless I wanted to jump through a window.... and I didn't feel like cutting myself open just yet.

The crazy bitch started forming some orb, and I released that hiding behind the people in front of me would not be of use. I needed to do something. I summoned what little courage I had to force myself to act. Realising quite quickly that I didn't have any courage, I instead used fear. I stepped up behind the girl I would later find out was Ashla and thrust my hand forwards.

“I'm not a threat!” I shouted through clenched teeth in case Ashla thought me one.

Fire burst from my hand and shot passed Ashla to washed over the toxic glass. My fire was hot, and wide enough to encase the majority of the skinny bitch's glass. The flames failed though, they could not destroy the glass, merely melt their jagged edges.

I raised both arms across my face as the dull glass rained around me. I risked a peak, I had escaped vivisection for now.

Remedy nulifies Madison's attack

[Doge]

My mind felt kind of funny as I turned away from Mr Puggelsworth. Perhaps it was the effects of that strange liquid, or perhaps I was allergic to human pugs, but my stomach did not feel well at all. It was actually rather depressing, as I had managed to find some delicious fish, not more than a week old earlier in the day.

I turned my orbs of justice around the bar and wondered at the dazzling colours. I vaguely remembered that I had entered the tavern to do something... but what wash it again? The bish grey man haded leaft me but colors were grey or someshing.

A had look twish ash a flying fosh wash flying at me. I fink I did know that fish.. er fosh from somewheres before. Erm... a chersh or someshing?

Oh.. oh no. I felt my shtomch shtarts to tighten, but I hash to defense myself froms the flying fosh. I shpread out my paws and pointed my nosh towards fosh.

“Wo---uurrrrsh”

The moment the beer fish left my stomach I felt suddenly much better. The torrent of vomit and kinetic justice blasted towards the fox, as well as splattering half a dozen nearby men. They started heaving themselves, a worthwhile show of support for my valiant deeds. I turned and bounced away quite happily. I was sure the smell of rotting fish would help improve the situation. Now I needed to help end the madness.

[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 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-qgum7hFXk).

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 ( [url) the walls down[/url] for her.

Yeah, that’s a good note to end on…

((Rorton Out))

[Doge]

Sometimes (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OMTB8YwILY) I wondered what was going on in the head's of humans and those things that kinda look like humans but are not. Perhaps it was some sort of chemical imbalance, like when you eat too much fruit and can't stop pooping. Anyway, I was standing in the the middle of the room when a whole bunch of stuff happened. There was a cowman, then fire, then someone on fire, then more fire. I had to duck behind a pot plant in the corner to plan my next move.

I think everyone could tell that I was up to something brilliant, because when I emerged ready to roll out my plan nearly half of the people had cleared out. Justice wasn't always quick folks, but it was persistent. I didn't have much time to celebrate as a man with a receding hair line attacked the tavern. Perhaps the building had insulted his mother or some-such.

My god! There is a person there!

I scurried around the whipped man as he left the building, followed soon by nearly everyone else. I darted through chair legs, over tables and finally to the still man, or as I realised at that point, goatman. The side entrance was closest, so I grabbed onto his hoof and started pulling.

After ten minutes and several closed misses I managed to get him the three metres to, and out of, the door. Most of the building had caved in, and my glorious coat of yellow was tinged a dirty brown. The goatman hadn't moved by himself since I started pulling and I quickly ran across his body to his face. It was messy, but I knew I had to help. Using the ancient art taught by Doge-kind (and stolen by evil cat-kind) I sat on the goatman's face. It took a few moments but he started coughing as my hair worked its magic. All of a sudden I felt myself lift through the air and bounce along the deck.

“Custard...?”

I scooted around and looked at the goatman, waiting for my thanks. I am not sure if I really understood the goatman's customs, but I'm sure a playful kick to the side was his way of showing gratitude. Happy with my job done and lives saved I jumped up onto one of the outside tables. The gods had rewarded me this time as I started eating some fried fish and and potatoes. I didn't really pay much attention from then on, but I think there was some shouting and cries of fear and shock as the building collapsed. Humans huh? So weird.

[Pestarzt]

The ship rocked gently (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGytDsqkQY8) to the sway of the ocean's waves, rolling their cabin with a subtle cruelty. Tucked between his legs, Alex had some of the last ice on the boat. Keeled over, half on makeshift table, he lapped at the last few drops in a brown bottle before allowing it to slide on the floor. He reeked of damp and beer, and that was perhaps the best he could have hoped for considering the carnage he'd just taken part in. His whole body seemed to ache with a pulse from toe to head.

“Maybe switch to coffee,” whistled his companion from across the table. The old sailor looked even worse from wear, holding a bloodied handkerchief in front of his mouth and hiding the new gap in his teeth. Spittles of red sprayed over the table with every word because becoming lost in the waning light offered by the porthole.

“Yeah, maybe.” The Pestarzt lifted his body up as gingerly as he could, wincing with the slightest stretch. “You alright?”

“Takes more than that to kill ol' Jack Maghullahan.” The sailor tried his best at a smile, but showed only the horror of a theater macabre.

“I think...I think a lot of people might have died back there,” Alex droned. His eyes seemed to tear up a bit, but the waters receded almost as quickly as they came. “I sort'a wish I could have saved someone.”

“Ol' Jack's not someone?!”

“In addition to...” He let out a series of coughs that almost shook him to tears. The poison had done a number on his lungs, and even seven cigarettes later he could still feel its ill effects. Alex propped his face up in his hands as best he could, cracking his jaw to relieve a little stress. The Keti had left him drained to the point of exhaustion, and dragged him several miles further still.

“You were too busy battling that,” Jack paused for a moment with a devilishly bloody grin on his face. “What'd you say?”

“Mammoth. That plant chick kept talking about how she was part mammoth. I didn't believe it either, until I went toe-to-toe with her.”

“Right.” From his pocket, the seaman produced a crinkled piece of parchment. “I know what'll fix you. While we were having a drink, the boys found themselves this little bit of news.” He passed it to Alex, who steadied himself as best he could. The words that stayed still long enough seemed intriguing; party, free libations, dancing girls. “Of course, if you're too warn down...”

“Damn it, Jack.”


That's it for me folks. I'll submit it for judging in a few hours. Stay tuned for a maybe sequel!

[Tankita Bananas]

Tankita had heard of the bar where all sorts of abominations gathered to go against God’s plan for them. Man laid with beast, woman with woman, and even fauns laid with anything that could make some semblance of noise. The sentient machine travelled down the largest alleyways that she could find, a path that took the tank a while to reach her destination.

When she arrived, Tankita found that the entire place was destroyed, save for a stray bartender who looked at the remnants of his livelihood in ruins. The tank moved its gun around back and forth as if it were in search of the culprit in an attempt to apprehend them. When the Alerarn experiment found nothing, it turned the gun to the sobbing barkeep.

“I can do nothing further,” she said as she turned around and began to go back the way she came. If she could cry, the steampunk aberration would have. At the moment, she only had one wish; to be the one that ensured the god-defying building’s destruction. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AldUzWWq8iQ)

[Tobias Stalt]

Alright, everyone. First of all, my apologies for this taking such a god awful long time.

Secondly, I was going to award each writer on a case by case basis, since this was to be a basic judgment with a flat rate score, but because you have all been so incredibly patient, I've decided to throw you all a bone. Everyone will be receiving 500 Exp and 75 Gold for their trouble. This was actually significantly higher than the rates each writer would have gotten based on the score I evaluated this thread at, so you're welcome.

That said, this thread admittedly had as much plot as Cory suspected I would credit it with, so the feedback I can give is abysmally minimalist.

For those of you who participated, I hope you had fun, since that's what really matters, right?

There weren't many significant flaws with grammar or stylistic issues. Most of this falls back on inspiration and creativity, or lack thereof. A good story might have made this an extremely fun read. With that in mind, keep writing, everyone, and I hope to see improvements from all of you in the future.

-Tobes out.

All Participants received 500 Exp and 75 Gold.

Congratulations!

[Lye]

Jeebus...

EXP & GP Added.

You kids quit goofing off...