An Unexpected Bar Brawl. (closed battle)

[Christoph]

[It was a lively night at the tavern. Tables full of regulars and strangers alike were full of activity as the patrons talked, gambled, and just relaxed as barmaids walked from table to table, passing out food and ale. The welcoming light of a roaring fireplace reached every corner of the hall, filling the tavern with warmth and a feeling of well being. The largest gathering was around a rectangular wooden table in front of the glowing hearth. There, an assortment of customers ranging from adventurers to traveling merchants to the average farmer sat around and told stories that would sweep them away from their everyday lives.

Christopher stood behind the counter, wearing his newly cleaned white chef coat and poofy chef hat. Truly, he would have felt ridiculous wearing such an outfit had he not been so accustomed to it. His apron used to be white. Now, however, it bore an abstract, and nearly artistic, pattern of stains from a long day of working in the kitchen. Fortunately, the regular bartender had gone home for the night, leaving Chris to serve drinks and make small talk with the customers. In all honesty, though, he enjoyed that more than toiling in the kitchen.

It had been three weeks since he and his good friend Heather finally returned home from their wolf-related ordeal on a mountain in the north. He had suffered several injuries during the journey, but they were behind him. Besides, the two of them certainly hadn't returned home empty handed; the trip was certainly profitable. Still, though, he was glad to be home. He was glad to be warm, standing in his mother's tavern as the frigid wind whistled outside like a banshee's call instead of biting into his skin. Slaving in a hot kitchen and serving drinkers was certainly better than trekking through a frozen wilderness. It was amazing how such ordeals could make a man grateful for even the most ordinary things.

Chris scanned the patrons sitting on the stools in front of the old oak counter. Those were the individuals most commonly interacted with. They would sit there and drink, and drink, until anyone could become their best friend. At that point, awkward renditions of their life-stories usually occurred. He recognized all of the patrons except for one. Perhaps he would actually hear a different ale-drowned sob story tonight. He slid along the floor until he arrived opposite the stranger.

"New in town?"

[Justice]

"Yes, though I've been here before," the bald-headed male responded, his bare forearms flopping down heavily upon the bartop. His armor, weapons, and pack were missing; the muscle-bound priest had seen little need of the aforementioned items in such a peaceful, relaxed setting.

"Name's Uriel. Pour me something strong, would you?" the devout male requested, his gaze momentarily drifting towards the undulating form of a woman near the fireplace. A long second passes before his cloudy gaze snaps back to the interim barkeep.

"...anything interesting happened 'round here lately?" His hand slips up to lightly grip the hammer-shaped pendant that dangles heavily from his thick neck, his fingertips absentmindedly caressing the charm as he awaits an answer.

[Christoph]

"Well, nice to meet you Uriel," Chris replied, spinning around to pour a double shot of whisky. He turned back to face the bald man, placing the small glass of golden liquid on the counter. "Here you go."

An awkward moment passed as the newcomer stared off toward the fireplace. Perhaps he was admiring one of the barmaids. Chris shrugged; it wasn't as though he'd never done the same. His mother had a curious knack for not only identifying the most attractive women, but also getting them to work in the tavern. He could scarcely complain, though. After a few seconds, the patron had finally acknowledged him with a question.

"No, there hasn't been much going on in this little town lately other than passing rumors of war in other lands," said the chef turned bartender. Out of habit, he began drying and polishing some of the glass mugs as he spoke. It had always made him more comfortable when talking to new people. "Of course, you get that everywhere. What brings you all this way?" There was something a bit odd about this man. His demeanor was like a puzzle who's pieces don't fit. He'd at first come across as a formal, strict man. Something was a bit off, though. It was as though the man couldn't decide how he wanted to conduct himself. Chris couldn't quite place the feeling yet; it was still a random bit of intuition.

[Justice]

Christoph's intution could hardly be more correct. The priest was full of conflicting ideas and beliefs that constantly raged through his mind; point of view constantly battled point of view, opinion warred against opinion, and everyone believed they were in the right.

“You hear about the fire last week?” Uriel’s powerful jowls set themselves into a stony frown. “It was started at a Church. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like the work of some damned amateur mages. A witness reportedly saw two men arguing behind the church around eight o’clock. A few minutes later, the building was aflame.”

The priest lifts the whiskey to his lips, draining the majority of the liquid fire with a single gulp. He grimaces, than sets the half-empty glass back onto the countertop.

“I’m here to help in the rebuilding process --- raising funds, doing manual labor, that sort of thing,” the muscle-bound figure continued. “As a priest, I do the will of the Church. Are you a believer in the One God?” Uriel wondered in his powerful, low voice, lifting his glass and partaking in more alcohol immediately after asking his question.

[Christoph]

"Ah yes, I heard about that the other day," said Christopher after a moment's thought. He nodded somberly for show. “Yeah, that’s too bad.” In all honesty, this unfamiliar patron was the first person who'd expressed any real interest in the curious vandalism. The chef shrugged it off mildly as the pious man downed his whiskey with ease. He retrieved a bottle of even stronger liquor: clear Vodka sitting on a table under an old, hand-written sign displaying a list of prices attached to various pieces of furniture. His gaze lingered on the sign for a moment. Six pieces gold was the price for breaking a stool and twenty for a table. That policy was the only thing that kept the tavern furnished with the frequency of particularly “rowdy” (better known as violent) nights.

“But yes, it sounds like you have your work cut out for you,” said Chris to keep up conversation. He chuckled lightly at the bald man’s question. As a general rule, he kept out of religious and political discussions, and rarely made jokes about either, even though he was more than capable of thinking them up. He compared braving those subjects to juggling knives; doing can make you look impressive, but make one false move and your face might never look the same again – especially when alcohol was involved. That night, however, the bar tending cook was feeling a little more daring.

“Follower of the ‘one’ god?” he asked, a dash of sarcasm concealed in a mostly friendly laugh. “Which one?”

[Justice]

Uriel peered towards Chris as if he'd just turned into a three-armed, two-headed demon. With horns.

"You ARE aware that the Sway is the only religion --- by law --- in Salvar. For a citizen to proclaim belief in another god," he paused for a long second, drumming his fingertips upon the bartop a single time before balling them into a fist. "is as good as treason."

"I suggest finding a stand-in bartender and heading outside; that is, unless you want me to demonstate the might of the One God right here," Uriel utterred out simply, standing from his seat at the bar and motioning to the front door. "You have sixty seconds to be out front. Wait any longer, and I won't be responsible for what happens to your establishment."

Without another word, the warrior priest turned his back on the chef, his booted feet carrying him towards the door. Unless Chris decided to initiate the brawl immediately, the robe-shrouded figure would quickly exit the building.

[Christoph]

Chris leaned against the back counter and returned the religious man's gaze with a raised eyebrow. A few of the regular patrons were watching now, wondering how their familiar bartender (and occasionally bouncer) would handle this situation. Chris chuckled. It looks like my reputation is on the line -- Not that he would allow himself to be intimidated by some overly pious zealot.

"Who are you trying to impress with your self-righteous religious zeal?" asked Chris, calling after the man. "This isn't Knife's Edge. Your beloved church of the 'One God' doesn't have as much sway this far out." The chef shook his head with an expression of sarcastic, sardonic pity.

"And if you're looking to intimidate people in increase your following," he continued, stepping up to the front counter again. "I must say that you're off to a very rocky start." Chris tilted his head and removed his hat casually, revealing a mop of curly brown hair. He glared at the man with a smirk, as though daring him to try and start trouble.

Let him try... or he can take his false inquisition elsewhere.

[Justice]

This man knew nothing. He was blind to the light, but Uriel would force him to see, even if it meant tearing his eyelids from his face. The priest stops halfway to the door, turning back around a striding briskly back to the bar. Without a word, he thrusts his hand forward, seeking to grasp Chris' collar.

"I am the church," he growls, a surprisingly gentle glow beginning to emit from his hands. Scatterred gasps are heard throughout the room; several patrons hastily exit the building. "I will rip the darkness from your very soul; you will be baptized in fire," he quoted from the book at his side. "Now you will all see what the Sway is capable of!"

Whether he'd managed to grab Chris or not, Uriel would hastily swing a shining fist at the bartender's midsection.

[Christoph]

Though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays.

-Sun Tzu, the Art of War


Christopher recoiled quickly, taking two steps backwards to avoid the glowing, grasping hand of the religious zealot. He would later admit that this reaction was out of alarm caused by the strange light show that he was witnessing. Why did I have to open my mouth about religion?

Still, there didn’t seem to be any going back now… talking things over with the maniac seemed to be out of the question – as did standing still as said madman growled overused religious dogma angrily. It would only be a matter of seconds, Chris knew from his experiences as a bartender over the years, before this man started throwing punches. The main challenge was the fact that the young chef was outsized and had no idea what the strange glowing light meant; the trick would be the act first while the big man was still growling.

Barely after the livid patron was even done talking, Chris spun to the side, just as the zealot’s fist pulled back for the punch, and grabbed a heavy glass beer mug. Then, in true barroom brawler style, he swung the mug swiftly at the side of his foe’s head just as he felt a fist barely miss his torso.

[Justice]

Uriel's quick reflexes are the only thing that save him from a nasty headache. Quickly, he raises an arm to block Chris' assault, allowing the heavy glass object to smash into his forearm with a loud 'thwack!' While a bruise on his forearm would certainly be less troublesome than a clobbered forehead, he'd be feeling the blow in the morning.

The instant the mug hits his body, the light from Uriel's hands morphs into white-yellow flame. While it gave off no heat and did not burn, it was quite frightening for the patrons to witness this 'miracle' --- most of the remaining men and women hurriedly left the bar, leaving only a few brave souls behind.

While the battlepriest hadn't been in many bar brawls, he did know how to utilize his surroundings to his advantage. With minimal hesitation, Uriel attempts to grasp Chris' nearby wrist with the arm he'd blocked with. If successful, he'd give the smaller man's wrist a powerful twist and then yank it forwards, pinning Chris' body against the front of the bar and putting heavy pressure on his arm, attempting to dislocate his shoulder.

[Christoph]

This man was quick given his bulk; that much was certain. Chris felt a twinge of pain in his wrist and shoulder as the strike impacted before he was fully prepared. Clearly, any advantage of surprise had been minuscule. The strike had been made in desperation and the hope of incapacitating the religious fanatic. He’d expected it to be a little more successful as it had been in the past. Unfortunately -- instead of standing over a bleeding, unconscious body – the stunned chef was left off guard for an instant. He found himself staring down a glowing zealot, forcing his gaze to remain steady. (With considerable effort)

That brief moment was that his foe needed. Chris suddenly felt a firm grip on his unoccupied wrist. This was followed by a harsh, agonizing, twist that send a jolt through his body and caused him to drop the glass mug before he could put up a resistance. The shocked bartender tensed the muscles in his arm to fight against his foe. The larger man was clearly stronger, though; Chris wouldn’t do well in a simple test of strength. Active retaliation was in order. He narrowed his eyes reflexively, and aimed a swift head-butt at the priest’s face as they grappled over the counter.

[Christoph]

“... And so them my forehead impacted his face, sending the insane zealot to the floor!”

Christopher finished off with a dramatic sweep of his arms. He was standing before a large, crowded, rectangular table. There, an assortment of customers ranging from adventurers to traveling merchants to the average farmer sat and listened to the young, brown haired chef recite a story as he leaned against the warm stone of the fireplace. A series of chuckles ensued.

“What? It’s the truth!” claimed the story-telling chef.

“He beat the piss out of you, didn’t me?” mocked a fat, black haired man with a sweaty face and hairy arms. It was William, the blacksmith in town. Chris hung his head and laughed.

“You’re too clever for me!” admitted Chris, though he hadn’t been defeated yet. “He lunged right over that counter over there, throwing his massive fists around. I was sure that I would be having bumps on my head for a month. But them big chef Mike came charging out of the kitchen with a frying pan. That Uriel fellow didn’t linger long after that!” A round of chears from the regulars followed.

“A smart man, he was!” said the blacksmith, almost boastingly. “That Mike is scary bastard! Second only to me!” Chris scoffed light-heartedly.

“Well, friends, it’s been a wonderful night, but I’m afraid it must come to a close,” said Chris somberly, inspiring the sounds of disappointment from the crowd. “I leave on my journey to Scara Brae and Corone in the morning, so I’d best bid all of you good night.” After a round of goodbyes, the chef made his way to the stairs leading to the second floor rooms of the Tavern.

“Good night, good night. You had all better have some new stories for me when I get home. I’m sure that I will have some as well!”

Chris stepped happily up the staircase, finding his way to his room. It was small, with only one window, a dresser, a bed, and a tiny round table. His clothing, knives, and other tools were already packed up and resting at the foot of his bed. He wouldn’t risk taking his arcane books with him, however. There was a chance that they would be somehow noticed by the xenophobic townsfolk -- it’s hard to embark on a journey when one is tied to a burning post.

He sighed wearily, but happily, falling back on the bed. Tomorrow would be a wonderful new day, a wonderful new adventure.


I decided to try and wrap this up to the best of my ability. Justice gave me permission to conclude this, since he won’t be able to complete the battle.

[Letho]

General Notes: I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed with this. Finally somebody starts a battle outside The Citadel with some viable reason behind it (other then the usual: “We just ran into the same arena”) and it winds up unfinished. I mean, yeah, it was still basically a barroom brawl, but at least it had a religious twist. Anyways, Christoph’s score is in RED and Justice’s is in BLUE.


CONTINUITY – 6:5

Yes, there was believable reason behind this battle, but it wasn’t executed in the best manner. I wasn’t aware that this Church in Salvar is so rigorous when it comes to believers. And even if it is, you both could’ve elaborated on it a bit more. Also, despite his piety, I think Uriel jumped the gun a little bit there when he challenged Chris to a battle. He didn’t even try to explain anything after Chris’ question and that was a bit unrealistic, even for a zealot such as him. I mean, Chris didn’t explicitly say that he didn’t believe in this “One God”. Chris, on the other hand, was in his setting, so there’s nothing much to say there. He was doing his everyday job, he got challenged, he fought. Not too shabby, but not too exhilarating either.

SETTING - 4:3

I think barroom is probably the second most used setting in Althanas, losing the first spot only to the vast, unremarkable expanse of the forests. Still, that doesn’t mean it can’t be original. And even if it’s not, there should be more of it incorporated in your post, more then just a sentence here and there about the patrons that cleared the room. Granted, neither of you had much time to utilize the setting due to the shortness of the thread. But still, if you’re about to put up a show, make sure the stage is properly set.

PACING - 2:2

Well, it finished before it even got off the ground, that’s the best way I can describe it. Also, as I mentioned in the Continuity section, I think it started a bit too abruptly. I would’ve liked to see at least another two posts of heated arguing before the battle commenced. This would make the action rise on sort of a curve until one of you reached the boiling point and exploded. However, when this actually happened in this battle, it came to an untimely end after about two attacks. I appreciate Christoph’s attempt to wrap it all up and salvage what could be salvaged, but I think it’s clear to both of you just as it’s clear to me that this was a story left unfinished.

DIALOGUE - 6:6

This was done rather well. The conversation between the two of you seemed to be flowing rather realistically up until the point when Uriel went bananas. And even when he did, his religious exclamations seemed in tune with his character. On the other side, I liked Chris’ storytelling at the end. All in all, not too bad for a battle.

ACTION - 5:4

Well, there wasn’t time for much of it, now was it? But what did occur, I think it was executed in sync with your characters. Of course, once again, the abrupt ending prevented either of you to justify your actions further. It would be interesting to see what would happen to Uriel’s zeal once Chris held his ground against him and his “One God”. But as it was, that never came into play. Slight advantage to Christoph because his character seemed to put more thought behind his actions then Uriel.

PERSONA - 6:4

I can’t say I found out a lot about Uriel other then the fact that he likes to smash in the heads of those that don’t worship his God. There is a way to play such a character with a single-track mind, but that doesn’t mean that you should disregard his feeling. Or even lack thereof. Try to tell the reader more about your character and the reasons behind his actions. I have to say that I’m starting to like Chris as a character. This is second or third time I read about him, and in the world of heroes and villains and dragons, it’s a refreshment to see a dude that just flips burgers and reads some books in his free time.

MECHANICS - 7:5

Justice, you have a bad habit of switching from past tense to present tense every other sentence or so. It can be really annoying for the reader and it breaks the flow of your writing. Try not to do that and watch out for typos. They don’t come often, but when they do, they come in cluster of two or three in as much sentences. Christoph’s writing was pretty clean, aside from some misspellings that occur to all of us. Other then that, there isn’t much to say.

TECHNIQUE - 4:3

Nothing too fancy here. One thing I’d like to point out is the usage of the real life quotes that you sometimes use, Chris. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing if it’s used correctly. Like, if you use it several times throughout the quest at the point where they relate to the events of the quest, it can work. Other time – like in this particular instance – I think it just sticks out needlessly. It’s a good way of making a point, but don’t overuse it.

CLARITY - 6:6

Both of you have little problems here. Your writing was comprehensible and easy to follow. Some of this comes as a direct cause of the low setting and technique score – without more details and literary devices, the writing is rather simple, but robbed of something extra that would give an additional flare to it. You two don’t need to work on clarity. You merely need to keep an eye on it while you work on other aspects of your writing.

WILD CARD - 5:5

An unfinished battle between a priest that walked into a bar... This could’ve been made into a fine joke. ;)




TOTAL SCORE – 51:43


Christoph is victorious!!!

Congratulations to both of you!


SPOILS:
Christoph gets 600 EXP, 50 GP and a threatening letter from an anonymous zealot that says: “Phear the 1 God!!!”
Justice gets 180 EXP, 50 GP and a slap on the wrist from his High Priest for ogling the barmaid


EXP/GP added!