The Jester Laughs AT You

[Jggidorrry Lim-Fao]

In some nondescript, yet somehow upscale pub, standing behind an impossibly plain looking ornamental bartop, stood a normal looking, formally attired barman. Washing glasses here and there, or puring a fresh pint of mead every now and then, absolutely nothing looked out of place.

Except possibly one man. Jggidorrry sat at the bar amongst a few other patrons, drinking mead through a straw in his mask. Every now and then, another patron may have looked over at the man, wondering why anyone would commit such a faux pas using a straw to drink mead in such a boringly rich establishment. But to Jiggy, their stares meant nothing to him; only their intent ever mattered. The way a man held his hands as he looked on, where his eyes looked, how long he allowed his gaze to take in information. It all gave clues as to how a man would act, or react to another's actions. Jiggy carefully surveyed the quiet barroom, noting only hushed quips about how odd he looked. It felt amazing.

The barman had just finished pouring another round of drinks, and was just getting ready to pass them off down the line. Each man exchanged his empty and a few coins for a fresh pint if he desired one, no talking required. The man reached Jggidorrry and set a glass down on the bar. Jiggy saw the man's hand quiver ever so slightly, a near-perfectly obscured fear. The barman knew he was wanted for a small price, and such a strange looking patron could be trouble.

And trouble may as well have been his middle name. The Jig darted his left hand forward, catching the bartender by his forearm, and pulling just enough to keep the man in place. He sprung up on his feet, putting a bit of momentum forward while his right hand reached for his dagger. Meeting the man's face over the bar, Jiggy's blade struck true, sliding without a sound into the man's throat, just under his larynx. There would be no screaming, no loud gasping for air or calls for aid. The man would be dead in a few more seconds.

"OOOIIII, ain't she a beauty," shouted the bounty hunter as he stood up, holding the man's quickly dying head up off the bar. As he died, his body slid back behind the bar, crashing plenty of glasses and mugs to the floor, and opening one of the beer taps. His own drink spilled from the slaying, Jiggy simply filled his pint from the flow and took a few big gulps before shutting the tap.

"Well lads, today's lesson is to never plow another man's wife." Jiggy raised his glass a bit, in a sort of toasting fashion, "and especially not his son as well."

He turned back to the bar without another word, and continued slurping beer through his straw, as though nothing at all had happened, and nothing at all should dare to change.

[Alkor]

The bar jilted and writhed as a lifeless vessel fell against it. Glasses shook and turned over, and some took a perilous dive to the floor. A chorus of shattering assailed the vagabond as his hand wavered next to where his ale had been. A pool of blood blended with alcohol stung his nostrils.

Calloused fingers pressed delicately into the muddled mixture. The enigmatic youth rose wordlessly, a sticky handprint left in his wake. "You spilled my drink," Kiljak drawled, his face contorted in agitation. "Then you killed the fuckin' bartender."

Loud screams of both anger and terror swirled around them, but Alkor saw only the man who had come between him and his love. With a gruff shove, the swordsman sent a drunkard to the floor. In moments, he closed the distance so that only the gap between stools separated them.

Alkor took a seat.

"Now," he rasped with a dried out throat. "Either you know how to pour a mean ale, or your throat'll look like his next."

Alkor nodded his head slightly to indicate the corpse of the well-liked barkeep. Sobbing patrons mourned their oldest friend, some jolted forward for the chance to fight his murderer. Alkor silenced them with a glance. "Bounty," came the lazy answer, "nothing personal." Jggidorrry looked the Fallieni over from behind his mask, unreadable.

"Then drinks are on you," Alkor stated. His hand dripped, fingers wrapped around the hilt of his katana. His unfeeling face twisted into a sinister smirk. "After all, you can afford it. Bounty, and all that." A sliver of silvery metal glistened in the low light. "Stingyness is an awful quality, don't you think?"

[Jggidorrry Lim-Fao]

Jiggy looked at the man who stood up to silence those who might have wanted a go with the masked murderer. Without moving his head in any direction, he noted the man's weapon and the hands that held it. Calm, sturdy, and strong. Nothing like the riled up sort that waited for a chance at him. Jiggy stood impossibly still, as if he had somehow become a statue, silent for just a few seconds more than expected. The air of the bar started to become a tiny bit less tense, and a bit more awkward as the crowd waited for any kind of reaction.

"Well sure, I suppose I might owe you a drink. Though I'm not entirely certain who to pay for it.."

He shot his legs up quick as a bullet, pushing off the bar stool with his hands. He effectively flipped himself over the bar with all the grace of a circus performer, and grabbed a few pint glasses while trodding over the corpse of his latest payout. He fills each of them up to the top, scrapes the foam, and tops them to just barely overflowing before passing them onto the bar towards Alkor.

"Have at it, killer. Though, the local community support officers should be arriving in short order, and won't much take to letting anyone stay inside to drink."

Jiggy waited for the sword-wielding possible maniac to either take a drink, or take his sword. Either way, the masked man was ready to put a knife or a beer into him.