One of those nights. (open for one or two people)

[Christoph]

It was a dark and stormy—no. Just no. Honestly, why is weather always so unoriginal and cliché? It’s enough to make you wonder why nothing bad can just happen on bright, sunny days. Things would be much simpler that way. And for some reason, the weather still matters, even if you’re sitting in a pub. Alas, that just seems to be the way things are; it leaves me stumped as to how I should describe it.

Well, it was raining and it was night time. Unfortunately, just to say that it was raining that night doesn’t particularly cut it. It leaves out the fact that there was wind. Oh yes, there was thunder and lightening too. Let us try this then: It was an ominous evening. Fierce winds lashed against the buildings lining the dockside and stirred up a tempest of waves whose intense crashing harmonized with the staccato pounding of rain and the booming thunder as lightening flashed in the sky. Wow. Who actually reads this crap, anyway? I give up.

It was a dark and stormy night…

**From of the journals of a Christopher Knighton



Chris found himself sitting at the counter of a homely pub within eyesight of the Scara Brae docks. It was actually quite similar to the one that he’d worked at in his home town in Salvar; same scattered array of tables, the same wooden countertop for the bar, the same brick-framed roaring fireplace. He was particularly glad for the fireplace, given how inhospitable the weather outside was. The traveling chef, turned businessman, had entered the drinking establishment to escape it. Unfortunately, the moods and demeanors of those inside seemed no more welcoming than the storms outside.

He had to admit, sitting on the “other” side of a bar counter was an odd feeling. The bartender was standing in the same place that Chris would have, polishing glass mugs in the same, casual manner. He was tempted the strike up conversation with the man but thought better of it; he didn’t seem any friendlier than the bulk of the patrons. It was a shame, too. Bartenders were often good conversationalists -- as far as Chris was concerned.

Perhaps it would be best to finish and leave, Chris realized. He’d seen far too many nights like this at home. Everyone, for one reason or another, was just in a bad mood. Perhaps it was the weather, or perhaps their lives simply weren’t pleasant. The point was that it wouldn’t take much provocation to turn a peaceful bar into chaos.

Chris had left Salvar and gone Scara Brae on business for his home’s tavern. There were a handful of warehouse owners that his mother, who ran said tavern, had ties with. (Although he certainly didn’t want to ever find out how she’d managed that) After two weeks, he still had two merchants to visit by the docks before he could finally leave for Corone, and then back home at last.

Yes… he would finish his ale and be on his way. It would do him no good to have a broken nose and a black eye while dealing with merchants and businessmen.

[aesculus]

A tiny figure walked through the door soaking wet from the pouring rain.

Sakai looked around at the brawl, her usual bright eyes were dull, tired, and she really could care less about who was in it or why it even started. All that matter was getting her feet off the ground for a few minutes. Dragging her feet towards the nearest bar stool to take a seat she saw the man knocked out on the floor. She shook her head and sat down anyways.

'men and thier stupid fights.' she thought to herself.

She pulled her hood off revealing her silver hair tied back in a short ponytail. She slumped over letting the counter infront of her hold her up while she waited for one of the shy bartenders not dealing with the fight to finish with one customer and move on.

[Christoph]

Wow... this started even more suddenly that I'd expected. Chris didn't even hear the final insult that sparked the explosion of violence. It started from somewhere in the far corner and spread throughout the entire bar in a near-comical fashion: drunk man number one swings at drunk number two, for no apparent reason (although it probably made sense to them at the time). Number one, being completely trashed, throws himself completely off balance and practically falls into his target, causing them both to crash into an adjacent table full of short-tempered sailors, who immediately go after both drunks with a vengeance. Of course, even stupid, violent drunks have friends who, upon seeing the sailor’s retaliation, jump into the fray.

As for how the other half of the bar came to be involved, no one knows for sure; it’s just the way the world works. Fortunately for Chris, he was well aware of this “law” from his bar experience, so he readied himself. These brawls, he knew, traveled outward from their source like a ripple in the water. There was no escaping it now because the way to the door was being blocked by the fight. He would just need to make sure that he came out in good shape. The trick would be to time his entry perfectly to avoid jumping in too soon and getting overwhelmed or waiting too long and getting sucker punched or blind-sided.

Wait for it… almost…

Chris remained seated on the bar stool at the counter, carefully watching the fight escalate. Timing was crucial. Even more crucial was the choice of targets. Fighting only in retaliation was foolish and often ended up leaving you with a glass beer mug to the head. Sometimes you just had to pick a nearby target at random. Therefore, when the long-awaited ale pitcher flew at the man sitting to Christopher’s right, the traveling chef hopped off of his stool, picked up said stool, and, out of nowhere, smashed it over the head of the man to his left, sending him to the ground.

And now the "fun" begins…

[aesculus]

Sakai sighed using a bit of her cloak to clean off the water from her face. She listened to the sound of chairs and other blunt objects hit skulls or flesh. More than half the time she wondered why men liked to fight even over the smallest things. She rested her cheek on her fist and looked at the man next to her, studying him for a bit before returning to her own thoughts.

'Mob mentality perhaps?' She thought to herself, 'He looks like he wants to join the fight.'

She watched as the chef get off his stool and hit a man in the head with the pitcher. She almost wanted to get up and beat the chef with her fists for joining into something so stupid.

'No. I'd be just as bad as the rest of them.'

She thought about her height and lack of skill with anything. She started talking to herself, "and since when did a short weak person like me start thinking about joining such violent and mindless things."

[Christoph]

"Mindless?" asked Chris, having overheard the girl's comment. He bashed the drunken man to his right with the stool before risking a glance at the female commentator. "I beg to differ." His lips formed into a charming smile that presented only a small hint of smugness. (At least, a small amount by his standards) This chef was certainly not a typical tavern brawler. Instead, he was a free-thinking, casually cheerful individual without any of the intense and irrational rage that most participants exhibited.

"You see, if you plan to get out of these situations unharmed, you need to be smart about it," Chris explained, delivering a swift kick to a large, round man who was crawling toward him. "Using your head will give you the needed edge, since most of these unwashed ruffians are too drunk and stupid to do the same. Fights like these spread like lightening-fast plagues... You need to act accordingly, lest you find yourself coughing up blood."

He chuckled at his joke before narrowing his eyes and looking for any more immediate threats. None were apparent at that moment; the center of the chaos was still on the opposite side of the bar and few had ventured far from it. They’re not fun, thought the chef with a shrug. Finally, he turned back to the girl with fascinating silver hair and continued his lecture.

"And one thing that you always need to remember is this," he paused for a moment and quickly thrust his stool forward to block a heavy glass mug that had been flying at his make-shift student. "There's no way to 'just stay out of it'. Nor is escaping likely. Most of these guys are too drunk to avoid hitting women... but, since you're pretty—er… and probably new to this whole drunken and violent debauchery thing, I'll make sure that you don't get roughed up too badly."

[aesculus]

She turned leaning back against the counter raising an eye brow. Oh how much she would love to wipe that smug smile off his face, but she reconsidered it. She preffered not to get involved with the fight for one thing and two she would never be able to handle fighting a man his height and skill.

"I suppose you're going to tell me this is good for learning how to survive in batt- What do you mean you'll make sure I don't get roughed up too badly?!"

Sakai was tempted to jump off the stool and kill the man. Instead she sat there brushing off the comment while catching a glass mug as it headed her way. Placing it onto the bar counter she looked back at the man waiting to see if he ends up as a bloody mess or not.

She smiled to herself, 'This should be rather amusing if he does end up being beaten to a pulp.' She amused herself thinking of all the scenarios that the man could end up with. One of which she preffered, dead.

[Christoph]

"Good for learning how to survive in battle?" asked Chris, smiling as the girl caught a different flying beer mug. Perhaps she might be fun after all, even though she is a bit mean. "Of course not. It's--" The chef's explanation was cut off by the sound of impacted flesh and a grunt as a particularly fat and dirty drunk threw a punch. The large man's ham-like fist slammed into Christopher's face. It wasn’t a particularly dexterous strike, to say the least. It was quite the contrary, actually; it was clumsy and poorly balanced. The sheer size of the drunk’s fist was enough to send the chef to the floor, causing him to land painfully on his side. Grumbling, Chris narrowed his eyes at his attacker.

"You interrupted me!" the chef growled as he climbed to his feet, rubbing the side of his face. The fat man was mumbled something incoherent and stumbled forward in an aggressive manner... as aggressive as stumbling could possibly be, anyway. (No one knows how that works, either) Chris ducked a second punch; it was easy to dodge such a slow, clumsy strike when it was expected. The chef pivoted quickly, scooped up the beer mug that the girl had just caught, and smashed it over the drunk's face. His demeanor was still calm and confident throughout the maneuver. It was as though he'd done that very thing before.

"As I was saying," Chris continued, chuckling. He placed the mug back on the table. "It's just for fun. At least, it is for me. You see, brawls are a thing of their own. Nothing else quite matches the chaos of a good tavern brawl." He smiled as the drunk he’d pummeled slowly collapsed.

[Angel of Light]

Rain… why did it always have to rain? It’s not like the day had been going very good for the fire-haired woman to begin with, but the rain just managed to tip her irritation over the edge. After asking the guards in Knife’s Edge where someone new to the land would go to stay away from trouble, Scara Brae was the almost unanimous answer. The one man who jokingly sounded “Haide” as an answer received more angry glares than the short woman thought possible. Nobody really explained why, but from the looks she saw exchanged, that was definitely not the place to be unless you had a death wish.

“I will be going then.”

She said, her words spoken unconsciously in a measure that silenced the entire room. Hands moved to grab blades as she turned around without realizing that the emotionless tone in her voice was similar to that of a serial killer before a strike. The actions of the guards went unnoticed, thankfully, and she managed to make it the rest of the way out of town with nothing eventful happening. From the edge of town, it wasn’t hard to find a series of rides to her destination, and over the course of a week, she managed to make the lengthy trip. Payment to the drivers either came in the form of protection against minor bandits, something they were grateful for, or a cold, “I’m letting you live… isn’t that payment enough?” Her icy voice combined with her demonic red eyes quickly convinced many drivers that she was more than capable of killing them if she wanted to. Personally, she didn’t care. She had no money, and since money drove the world, she had to make do with the second best… intimidation. It was as simple as that.

It was also raining when she stepped off the ferry onto the island nation of Scara Brae, actually paying her toll with a few coins she fell into possession of at the end of her journey after one particularly stubborn bandit didn’t listen to reason. Most ran off when she unsheathed her blade and ignited both it and its sheath, but this one was too brave to back down. He held his wickedly curved dagger with an unshakeable bravado, convinced that she was nothing more than show. The flaming remains of his error would probably cause a bit of a ruckus when the stench found the next passerby, but the small purse she removed from his waist before setting fire to his bloodied corpse held a surprising number of coins. He must have scared quite a few people or found a well-to-do target recently to come across the amount she found.

The ferryman smiled in relief as Adelia stepped off the boarding plank, wiping his brow clean from sweat even in the rain as she walked away. For the duration of the entire passage, the weapon she carried with her never left her hand. It was unnatural, or so he believed, for someone to carry a blade and not have it hanging from a belt or strapped across her back. She never sat it down either; she just held it as if it was a part of her.

“Captain?” Her icy voice cut through the ambient noise of the port city, practically freezing the man’s blood as she spoke.

“Y- Yes?”

“What is the fastest way to make the Capital?”

“Just ask for a ride… I can pay your fa-”

The white-clad woman didn’t even bother listening to the last piece of what he was saying. Something told her he was terrified that she was going to kill him… that he was trying to appease her… but that didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t seen the dead body. She had done nothing on the ferry to cause anyone to think she was angry enough to kill someone, so why was he so terrified? The concept eluded her. Without even bothering to respond to the plead he started, she simply walked off to begin the process all over again. Granted this time she could actually pay a reasonable fare, the concept of threatening people’s lives in return for a free ride was somehow familiar and foreign to her. It was… comfortable. It was also no way to start a reputation in a new place like this “Scara Brae”.

A few more days of journeying saw her purse nearly empty, and as night fell, she needed yet another overpriced place to stay. The constant rain had not let up since coming onto the island nation as she now knew it to be. The first establishment she found looked promising… until a rather rotund drunk flew through the heavy doorway. Gripping the unornamented sheath in her right hand slightly tighter, she checked the lock that held the blade safely inside to ensure it wouldn’t accidentally fly off. Distant memories of someone that couldn’t have been her nudged the back of her mind as she stood in the rain, the downpour evaporating from her shoulders as if boiling in a pot.

Walking into the establishment without a care, the first drunk to come within two feet of her received a solid crack across the stomach with her sheathed blade. His rather large gut managed to absorb a good deal of the blow, but he still stumbled back and vomited something with the stench and texture of dead fish moments before doubling over. Every obstacle between the door and the tavern master was met similarly; though the method of delivery was not always the same, the outcome invariably left her opponent lying on the floor. They weren’t dead, not by any stretch of the imagination, unless dead drunk counted.

“A room for the night. Your fare?” No words were wasted when she spoke, and only the inflection of her voice near the end of the statement signified it was a question. She paid no heed initially to the two others that seemed to be pulling through the brawl with little effort, though she did notice that the man was more than capable of holding his own in a situation like this. Her eyebrow rose slightly when she saw the girl catch a projectile beer mug as if it were a common occurrence, however, a peculiarity that forced her to miss the man behind the counter’s answer. Her words again were ice as she spoke another proposal. “And if I quell this?”

“Now there’s no need for that miss. It’ll sort itself out in time. Now, a few pieces of gold will get you out of this mess and up to your room with no hassles…”

It was clear that the man didn’t want her to start killing people, but as before, she couldn’t understand why everyone jumped to that conclusion. All she was planning to do was systematically knock everyone out like the three drunks being trampled between her and the door now. Somehow, she wasn’t quite ready to retire for the night. The utter chaos of the bar fight was soothing in a way she still could not understand, and she had not been at peace like this since arriving in this strange land.

[aesculus]

She cracked a small smile watching as the drunk him punched in the face.

'He's right bar fights are fun...' She thought to herself. "... when someone you don't happen to like is the one being beaten.

She bent over backwards as a chair flew her way and smashed into the opposite wall. She sat back up and looked at him. She caught a glimpse of the white clad woman from the corner of her eye and watched for a moment before turning back to the chef.

She shuddered at the sight and the smell of the vomit. She ducked a little too late when a man swung at her with a leg of a bar stool. She holds her head blinking trying to figure out what just happened. She looked infront of her as the drunk swings again. A natural instinct brought her legs up and pushed hard into his chest shoving him back into the fray. Sakai got herself back into her crosslegged position and continued to watch. She rubbed her head rather surprised the man didn't crack her skull open.

'This is going to hurt in the morning.'

"Still mindless violence to me," She said getting the pain to stop for now. "Or maybe it is just women have more principals than men."

A part from being attacked she was happy that at least he got what he deserved for the comment.

[Christoph]

Chris sighed, but laughed as well. A good half of the patrons were on the floor and unconscious, leaving the remaining half to either stick around and fight for dominance or sneak for the door. A surprising few chose the latter. The chef glanced at the door for a moment. It seemed to be such a good idea. No, he might as well see this amusing event through now that he’d gotten his metaphorical and literal hands dirty.

“Well, you don’t need to be rude about it,” said Chris, only a dash of annoyance present in his voice. He shook his head as a parent would when disappointed in a child. Yet another drunk brawler lurched at him before he could speak again. Chris was more prepared this time; he spotted the man soon enough to snatch up his trusty bar stool again and pummel the sluggish brawler’s face a few times. Once again, the fighting chef turned to face the silver haired girl.

“Everyone needs to have fun now and then. Frankly, your attitude is rather boring.” With that, Chris shrugged and strolled unceremoniously back to the counter. It appeared that a newcomer had arrived. It was a woman with hair of a brilliant red matched only by her eyes. A few of the sailors had scuffled their way to the counter during a seemingly nervous exchange between the woman and the bartender. The chef set his stool down and sat upon it.

“So… do you come here often?” Chris asked the red haired woman, leaning against the counter and lifting his eyebrows seductively. He could only hold a straight face for a moment before he burst out into a chuckle. Then, seemingly at random, he picked his bar stool up again, pivoted on his right foot, and forcefully swung his improvised weapon at an approaching sailor. His target, however, was strong and not completely drunk. The sailor’s brought his arms up fast enough to block the blow – though it still sounded very painful – and the sailor looked very angry.

“Oh shit…” was all Chris could say before a brick-like fist practically lodged itself in his stomach.

[aesculus]

She completely ignored whatever he said and decided to talk to the bartender. She smiled learning they had at least one nice room for her.

"Aww, thank you, I'll make sure I reccomend you to all my friends!" Sakai said happily, lying.

He blushed at the comment and quickly rushed off to get a bucket and mop to clean the floor. She watched and thought about what she just said. She dropped the smile and the happy act. In reality she was a bit of a loner really the only people, well person, she was friends with was the dying man from her past. Even he wasn't really a friend.

Sakai sighed and ran her fingers through her hair and decided it would probably be best to turn it in for the night. She hopped off the bar stool kicking a drunk on the floor out of her way heading towards a door way at the back of the bar and inn.

She stopped hanging onto the doorway holding her head. She groaned in pain as it started to throb.

'In the morning find the drunk that hit you then KILL him!' She flinched stressing out her brain, adding a headache to the list of head pains. She drifted up to the second level of the bar and inn and looked for her room.

[Angel of Light]

“Still mindless violence to me,” The other girl sitting at the bar spoke to no-one in particular, but her words reached the new arrival easily. “Or maybe it is just women have more principals than men.”

Why did it feel like the other woman was speaking to her directly? The redhead wanted to ignore her- to believe that it was coincidence and nothing more, but even now with more holes in her memory than Swiss cheese, she knew that there was no such thing as a coincidence. This wasn’t her world, but something told her that she was needed here. Why else would she wind up falling from the sky where a guard could see her and tend to her? Why else would a bandit with a fat purse refuse to run? Why else would she find the only bar in the middle of a fight? While not necessarily uncommon, fights of this magnitude were neither a daily occurrence nor did they last long.

“So… do you come here often?” Another voice rang clear, this one male, and probably belonging to the man who appeared to be a baker of some sort. For some reason, he seemed to enjoy the idea of enticing others to come near by letting his guard down when he spoke. As Adelia watched him swing his makeshift weapon toward a rather large sailor, she would have laughed had she known how to. It was clear to her eyes that he was completely outmatched, and the sailor’s solid fist made short work of its target. A quick glance back at the tavern master asked her question once more without words; though this time her cold eyes changed the meaning.

“Can I kill them now?”

The fat man behind the counter shook his head quickly and backed away from her icy stare, even if it was only momentary. Sighing, the fire-eyed woman turned her attention back to the brawl just in time to see a large glass mug fly at her face. Quickly raising her left arm to cover her head, a layer of glistening red scales pierced the surface of her skin, hardening into a smooth armor that aided in the deflection of the mug away from her countenance. When her arm lowered back to her side, a scowl to freeze hell trained its fury toward the nearest brawler who quickly found that her face wasn’t the only thing to be worried about. A rather fast slash across his arm with her blade still sheathed knocked the man off-balance just enough for her to deliver the “final” blow to his sensitive area with her foot. The drunken bum’s face wrinkled up like a squeezed prune as his hands dove in futility to the source of the pain coursing through his entire body now. All that it took to knock him the rest of the way to the ground was a light thrust to his chest with her sheath.

Before she had time to think, her legs carried her toward the next drunken man. It was the longest three steps she had ever taken, but it just felt right, so she didn't complain. A cross-ways slash with the sheathed blade in her left hand found her target's ribs moments before her foot found his gut, sending yet another brawler to the ground. Her kick was sloppy, though, and left her off-balance enough for a particularly alert sailor to capitalize on her mistake. The burly man's thick arm powered a massive fist across her face. Spinning on her way to the ground, the white-dressed woman laid immobile for a few moments as the world finally stopped spinning around her. Red scales flowed over the palms of her hands when the burly man's heel started crushing her back, a momentary precursor to a burning sphere forming in each hand.

Face-down on the dirty floor, she whipped her arms around to her back, joints protesting the unnatural action but still accepting that the motion was possible. When her hands clamped down on the man's ankle and in turn smashed the two fireballs into his calf muscle, a cry of pain echoed through the bar as the flames kept burning, causing nasty burns around the majority of his lower leg. She didn't need to smell the burning flesh to know she had succeeded, but it was always a nice bonus. As soon as his foot lifted off her back, she looked over her shoulder and propped herself up on her elbows and knees. He was behind her, mostly, and quite off-balance. Now she could return the favor. She could feel her face swelling already, but as she picked up her sword once more, the simple black sheathed weapon started glowing as if being heated up by a strong fire. She swung the weapon two-handed toward the sailor's face just as flames erupted from the sheath, leaving a scorched line across the left side of his head and knocking him to the ground.

Only five of the bar's patrons were still standing when she slowly surveyed the damage She had helped cause. Including her and the chef (the white-haired woman had disappeared) one bouncer and two not-quite-drunks were still arguing off near the dark-stained hardwood wall that housed the large fireplace. Stepping over one passed-out body after another, her flaming sheath quenched itself and she took a seat at the bar. Dumping the rest of the coins from the purse onto the countertop, she gently massaged the swollen area of her face. She would have a nice bruise there for sure come morning.

“What can I get for these?” She asked, her voice much warmer now that she had gotten some of the violence out of her system. The barkeeper simply stared at the small pile on his counter for a few moments before counting out how much she would have left.

“Just take your pick from an empty one and make sure you're gone before morning.”

“I see.”

Turning to the chef on the same side of the counter as her, a look somewhere between awe and not caring registered on her face for a few moments.

“For someone who dresses like a cook, you are quite handy with that stool.”

[Christoph]

Why can't things go according to plan more often?

Chris almost doubled over as the air was forced from his lungs. He tried to recover and strike back, but the sailor grabbed him too quickly. The chef felt himself crash against other bar stools and then the floor after being thrown down by the large, angry sailor.

Ow... note to self: pick a fight with somebody a little softer.

A solid kick against his right side interrupted his attempt to get up. He sprawled back another couple feet as the harsh pain shot through him. Chris realized that he'd need to act quickly or else he would end up beaten to a pulp. He rolled away swiftly to avoid another swift kick. Having put sufficient distance between himself and his opponent, the chef scrambled to his feet and picked up another nearby stool.

Chris smiled maliciously and the sailor glared back. He swung several times as the sailor advanced, aiming high and stepping back with each swing. Most of the blows struck his opponent's forearms with a loud thump. As his foe closed the gap between them, Chris struck low at the sailor's knees as hard as he could. The snapping of wood mixed with the cracking of something else and the large rock-solid man went down with a grunt. A swift whack with the damaged furniture finished the job of knocking the sailor unconscious.

***

The chef had taken a moment to catch his breath before he surveyed the pub and realized that the fight was over. At that point, he heard the red haired woman, whom he had pretended to flirt with before almost getting mauled, talk to him.

"Oh, well, I always worked as a bartender during the nights back home," Chris explained. "Bar fights such as this one were frequent. And we didn't have a bouncer, so that job usually fell upon me when trouble-- wait." He held up his finger as though listening for something. He laughed when he seemingly heard it.

"Well, what do you know," he almost exclaimed. He pointed off at the far corner where a slim man in a colorful green and blue outfit sat on a chair strumming a lute. "The bard is still playing."

[aesculus]

She found her room and collapsed to the floor. She looked up at the ceiling. Everything around her was spinning.

--

Sakai saw herself walking past her. She frowned watching the scene before her. She started to recognize what was happening. She remembered helping the man and the promise she made to him. She saw herself taking the swords from his dead hands and continuing her walk down the dirt path again towards her destination.

--

She sat up and looked around the inn's room then outside.

"Still dark..." she told herself holding her throbbing head. "I have to find someone to teach me more."

Her superstitions crept up on her.

"I don't want to be haunted by the dead man."

It clicked into her head and she got up and ran down the stairs in search of the chef and the red haired woman. Hopefully one of them could help her develop her abilities with the sword.

She found them in the same place and walked up to them.

"I'm so sorry to bother you both. But would either of you happen to know how to use a sword really well?" She asked innocently.

[Angel of Light]

Sorry for the wait! (and for the crappy post)

“So, what happens now? The bard may still play, but for whom?” She said flatly. “I have not paid attention to him.”

The chef’s attempt at a joke fell terribly flat, though on different ears it may have fared better. Adelia simply did not understand humor in any of its forms, so in turn she did not see the need to laugh at jokes even if it would be considered polite. As she sat at the counter, she flipped the bartender another coin, asking for something to take the edge off her pain. He begrudgingly complied, returning shortly with a mug of frothy brown liquid. Before handing it to her, he sprinkled a small bit of fine white powder into the brew.

“A new alchemist’s mix, s’pposed to make your pain go away for a while. I dunno how it works, just that nobody’s complained about it yet. Guess it must work.” Even if he didn’t like her around, she was still a paying customer and it was his obligation to serve for her coin. She nodded slightly to acknowledge that she heard him then slowly began drinking the brew. Nothing happened until she reached the bottom third of the mug, but when the dull throbbing started going down, she actually broke a friendly smile from the relief. The medicine would probably last for at least a few hours—plenty of time to get to sleep.

“I'm so sorry to bother you both. But would either of you happen to know how to use a sword really well?”

The white-haired girl apparently couldn’t get to sleep. Her question was odd in Adelia’s eyes because, if she had been paying attention at all, she would have known that the fire-haired, ruby-eyed woman knew how to use her sword. Strangely enough, the simple weapon was still clutched firmly in her hand even though the fight was long since over. It had kept her safe with no belt until now, so she saw no reason to remove her ability to use her primary means of protection from instant access.

“Define ‘really well’.”

[Christoph]

“You’re missing the point,” Chris sighed, slapping his own forehead. Still, he didn’t see any reason not to humor the red-haired woman’s lack of humor. “It’s not a matter of who he’s playing for; the point is simply that he plays. It could be for his own sake, really. I just found it amusing that the old sayings of ‘the tavern bard is always sacred’ and so on actually turned out to-- oh, why do I bother?” The chef grumbled dismissively as the emotionally bankrupt woman turned to the bartender.

He chuckled silently and leaned his back against the polished wooden counter. It seemed rather ironic that he’d pretended to flirt with the woman barely a few minutes earlier. This woman, who seemed to prefer cold violence to wits and replaced humor with bloodlust, was definitely not the sort that Christopher would even choose to associate with, let alone be interested in romantically.

Closing his eyes wearily, the chef exhaled silently and absorbed the atmosphere of the tavern. There was a certain vacuum of energy following the massive brawl. It contrasted the tension building up to the incident as starkly as black to white. The dull and upset pre-fight murmur had been replaced with the light strumming of the bard’s lute, sleepy exchanges of conversations at two of the far tables, and the occasional pained groan as the last remaining victims of the drunken rampage dragged themselves out the door. He savoured the rare sensation.

Then the voice of the strange girl with silver hair and mismatched eyes returned to disturb his relaxation. She was inquiring about swords. Swords? Lovely. Now what? Hasn’t this night been eventful enough already?

“Well, I know which end you’re supposed to hold on to, if that’s what you mean...”

[aesculus]

Sakai smiled at the woman she was talking to. Perhaps she might find some use in this person after all. She just hopes she doesn't have to make any promises to the red head. A promise was the only reason why she was asking the woman for help in the first place.

"It really doesn't matter." She replied before a thought hit her.

She looked at the woman for a moment contemplating on the option for a moment before raising a finger that pointed to the cieling. She figured the woman knew all the basic skills of sword fighting and probably had more experience than she did.

"Perhaps the both of us could..." She hestitated for a moment knowing how awkward the last part was going to sound. "Train together?"

Sakai looked side to side. Normally she would ask an experienced male swordsman, but looking around it seemed that every swordsman in the bar was either drunk or knocked out by a drunk.

She looked at the chef for a moment, before looking back at the woman waiting for a reply. She was losing her patience with him, and considered pulling out a dagger then stabbing him to death. She shook her head she couldn't let the mans sarcasm and insults get her. Although it would be nice to actually give him a piece of her mind.

[Angel of Light]

The blathering chef’s words meant nothing to Adelia. Rambling on and on about how the bard was sacred; the thought made her stomach retch. Nothing was sacred in this world… in any world. Flashes of a past clouded in the haze of amnesia and mind-blanking spells told her even that much. There was so much darkness in her mind, her memories, but why was the darkness comforting? Common sense told her that darkness should be disconcerting at the least. A sigh escaped her cold visage just as the silvery-white haired woman who had asked about swords answered the redhead’s statement.

“It really doesn't matter.” A surprisingly unsteady voice issued from the inquisitive woman, followed shortly by another statement that could only be expected. “Perhaps the both of us could… train together?”

The white-coated woman hopped down from the bar stool and held out her sheathed katana, the unornamented black thing looking much less imposing than the two blades strapped to her new pupil’s waist. Pressing on the tsuba with her right thumb, she released the simple lock mechanism that kept her blade safely sheathed unless she wanted it out. The blade slipped slightly out of the saya, the glistening silvery metallic sheen at the base of the blade a testament to its keen edge.

“Perhaps names would be best before we start.” Crossing her right hand, the one holding the blade, over her chest, Adelia bowed to the chef and the other woman in turn rather formally before straightening back up and straightening her arms against her sides. “I am Adelia Dike Veritas.”

Heh… I must be doing my job right if she seems emotionally bankrupt ^_^ And man… it’s getting hard to write quality posts lately for some reason…

[Christoph]

“Hold on, wait just a moment,” Chris interjected, holding his hand, partially closed, in front of him with his index finger extended. An added tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow created an expression which a combination of being amused, bewildered, and a tiny bit disgusted -- almost as though he were gazing upon the freakshow at a traveling circus.. His gaze settled on the girl with silver hair as he slid off of his stool. “Let me get this straight… You are going to ask perfect strangers to train with you? And then what? I suppose that just because this is a tavern, we’d all embark on an epic adventure and be friends forever. You must be joking… You are joking, right?” The last part contained a hint of desperation. He stopped his rant for a moment before groaning and slapping his own forehead. No, she clearly wasn’t joking.

“People actually do that?” asked the exasperated chef. He needed some air. “I don’t think that I can take much more of this. I had better leave before any more of my world swirls into oblivion around me.” He dropped a coin on the counter in front of the bartender before heading toward the door. Heavy droplets of rain pelted the building still, as did the thunder growl in the heavens. Still, he felt the need to go elsewhere before his brain exploded.

Before he could reach the door, however, it flew open, slamming against the wall. Standing in the gateway to the elements were the imposing figures of a four—no, five sailors. They were a burly bunch, covered in scars and possessing massive, hairy, forearms. They weren’t of any rank as far as Chris could tell. They wore the standard naval dress of Scara Brae; a simple crimson overcoat and black boots. The chef recoiled from the door. His instincts told him that this wasn’t a good thing. Well, it may have been more the fact that the sailor’s looked angry than anything his instincts could have told him.

“That’s the one!” shouted a mildly familiar voice. From the back of the small pack was none other than the sailor whom had served as one of Christopher’s opponent’s in the brawl; the same blonde hair, the same brown eyes, and the same tan skin. His face looked a little bit different now, though. It was notably less symmetrical. He must have slipped out without Chris noticing. “That’s the gutter rat that attacked me!” The group glowered and advanced for the chef with murderous eyes. He held his hands out and backed away.

“Hey, listen, gentlemen, I can expl--” he began before a firm punch painfully impacted his chest, sending him back a full step. “Crap…” Their leader, the one who’d thrown the first punch, was a mountain of a man. He wasn’t greatly taller, but he was broad and muscular. Chris couldn’t afford to take punches from this man.

When the chef spotted the next punch winding up from the lead sailor barely a second later, he acted first with a swift head butt to the man’s face. Chris felt a splitting pain course through his skull as it impacted his target between the eyes. He took solace in the fact that it probably hurt the other man more than it hurt him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed the chance to gauge its affect before more blows rained down on him from the others in the mob. In a matter of seconds, the chef felt the rough wooden floor beneath him. His vision quickly began to spin and darken.

Payback is most unpleasant.


I'm actually hoping to wrap this RP up in the next few posts. I hope that's all right -- this RP was only supposed to be a bit of satire. Everyone has been playing along nicely, though.

[aesculus]

She smiled at Adelia. Wrapping her fairly long scarf around her neck and tying properly. She gently bowed to the woman infront of her.

"Sakai Muketsu. It's nice to meet you!" She was overly happy for a mercenary.

She placed both hands on her hips, just above both her twin blades. In someway it felt good to meet someone new. At least this person she could tolerate more than the chef. Which by the way, she had to remember to lecture about giving sarcastic remarks to a woman. Or in her case, girl, but no one was really paying attention.

Sakai sighed, why did she care, the chef man was just annoying. At least in her eyes he was. She wouldn't be surprised if the man got himself into more trouble. Speaking of which where did the annoying chef go? It clicked into her head. He wanted air.

Ahh my posts are too short! Sorry for the long wait in reply I'm kinda getting back my writing groove.

[Christoph]

Oof!

Chris impacted the floor of the Tavern with a painful thud. Several kicks sent his rolling along the rough wooden surface as the team of sailors continued beating the chef to a pulp. His vision spun and became blotchy. He desperately protected his face with his hands and fought the blackness that threatened to envelope him. He couldn’t even hear the Bard’s music anymore.

As pathetically weak as it sounded, Chris just gave up and waited for them to stop. He couldn’t stand or fight back -- even if he tried, they would just knock him back down again. Slowly, a tingling numbness enveloped his body like a warm blanket. It didn’t even hurt anymore.

Then, suddenly, the beating stopped. There were some shouts muffled behind the chef’s twirling awareness. Finally, a hand reached down and pulled the battered chef to his feet shaking feet. As the dark fog obscuring his vision faded, he saw the slender, green-clad form of the lute-playing bard extending a friendly hand. This doesn’t quite make sense…

“I thought that the Bard kept playing, no matter what,” commented Chris, inquisitively. He gratefully accepted the hand, despite the confusion. The bard merely laughed as he pulled the battered cook to his feet. The traveling musician chucked and stroked his black goatee.

“But my good sir, I am but a humble minstrel,” he replied with a voice even more fluid and precise than Christopher’s own. “I do not weave magic into my songs, nor do I entertain the kings.” He paused for a moment as the chef brushed himself off. “Besides, those sailors already broke one of the rules, anyway. I figured that there wouldn’t be much harm in me bending another one.”

“Rule? Which rule did they break?” Chris tilted his head. The two began walking instinctively toward the door as they spoke.

“Ah, you disappoint me, sir,” replied the minstrel. “Fights are always supposed to stay in the pubs. It’s considered very bad manners to come back with your friends to exact revenge.”

“Oh!” exclaimed an enlightened Chris as he felt the cold rain pepper his face as they left the drinking establishment. “I always knew that it was bad etiquette, but I never realized that there was actually an unwritten rule for that.” The slender musician patted the chef on the shoulder, causing the white-clad man to wince in pain.

“Oh, sorry, friend. But now you know, eh?”

“Ha! Yes, I suppose I do,” Chris replied. “But since you saved my hide in there, I think names would be appropriate.” The musician gave a genuine smile through his facial hair.

“By all means.”

“I am Christopher Knighton.”

“A noble name, indeed,” replied the minstrel. “And my modest name is Stephon Wilder.” Chris nodded and his new acquaintance extended an open hand. The two shook hands.

“Perhaps we will meet again.”

“I am certain that we shall,” replied Stephon before turning away and slowly vanishing into the rain.

“Ha, what an odd character.”


* * * * *

Late the next morning, a familiar chef found himself sitting across from a heavy, bearded gentleman with a heavy wooden table between. Several parchment documents lay signed upon its brown, polished surface.

“So, is everything in order, sir?” asked the chef. The other man glanced over everything one last time. He stroked his bushy red beard before folding his hands and resting them on the table.

“Yes, it seems so,” he replied. “You purchase grain from my warehouse in bulk at a discount every two months and provide your own shipping.” There was a brief pause as the older gentleman looked Chris over again. “I have to ask, son, what happened to your face?” The chef went red for a moment, as he was quickly reminded of his bruised and scabbed state.

“It’s an… interesting story, and a long one. I’m sure that you have more important things to do than to listen to me.”

“Oh, humor me. I’ve been curious since we started this transaction.” Chris chuckled.

“Well, it was… it was a dark and stormy night…”

[AdventWings]

Judgment is in! Sorry for the long wait and thank you for your patience. :)

Story

Continuity - 6

Generally, each one of you gave hints of where you came from and why you were in that particular tavern in Scara Brae. How this story played out, however, seemed to have diverged from where it was originally headed as well as leaving the readers in a limbo - Whatever happened to Sakai and Adelia? As for Christoph, he is the only one with a somewhat definite ending and continuation in his story. Overall, not bad. A bit of a mismatch, but generally well-done.

Setting - 6

Good descriptions and details during the beginning and middle of the story, to which most played some role in the actual story-telling than just being a backdrop to the characters. Some details that would be relevant and realistic were left out, such as how difficult it was to move about in wet clothing or how Adelia's white coat would be a little see-through (even if they're merely damp after most of the moisture was evaporated before entering the tavern,) but adding it may be too much of a burden if not done right. Still, the overall usage of what was there made the story quite nice.

Pacing - 6

A bit off-beat and a sluggish during the middle, until Adelia came in and mopped the place up. Then it just went -PowPowPow!- and going all over the place with the story-telling. Aesculus is a bit more guilty of trying to fast-forward the timeframe than the other two, but it gave me an overall feel of being somewhat off-beat and unexpecting. So far, so good. Reiterating phrases and dialogues of the person before you kind of killed the story pacing, though. If you need to dictate which speech of part you are responding to, make note of it in your narration instead of copy-paste the entire words.

Writing Style

Mechanics - 6

Very good use of the standard English grammar and sentence structure, even mixing it up a bit here and there to add some spice into the reading. Aesculus, however, is struggling with the "mixing it up" part and fell back on a formulaic sentence structure. Being that English was not her Native Tongue, that is to be expected and I look forward to seeing you work on this a bit more in the future. Just remember to try adding variations to how you write out your sentences while retaining most of the original meaning. As for Christoph and Angel of Light... I do not have much advice for you two except that you should look into bending the rules of the English Language a little bit more. Seeing as you are already somewhat proficient with the basic usage, mixing it up a bit more where necessary can really give it more flavor. :)

Technique - 6

Not too much here, most coming from Chrisoph and in the earlier ones by Angel of Light. The ones that were present did justice to the overall emotion of the quest.

Clarity - 5

There were some general continuity clashes with regards to how each sequence kind of overlapped into one another, when in one person's post A did B first before talking to C while in another person's post A talked to C first before noticing B. That could very well confuse the readers what was actually going on, but this was not the first time that happened. If you are unclear as to the sequence of actions, talk it over via PMs or IMs to prevent continuity conflict with each other's post.

Character

Dialogue - 7

Love the dialogues. Each conveyed the personality of your characters very well and they shone very clearly in contrast to the other NPCs and the general din. Christoph came off as a bit of a player and casual man in his posts, Sakai was the somewhat nonchalant but obviously amused merc and Adelia as the cynical and ruthless killing machine - despite not even killing anyone in the bar. Their voices were very convincing... Well, Aesculus could use a bit more work on trying not to be too impulsive, but generally quite well-done.

Action - 6

Good, good. You each stayed true to your character's internal needs and feelings, acting on those feelings accordingly and doing what the character themselves felt like doing instead of doing what the writer wanted them to. Not overly impressive, but certainly not your average writer's skills.

Persona - 7

Christoph's casual, risk-taking side is really enjoyable and a definite contrast to Sakai's somewhat aloof front and Adelia's apathetic outlook. Adelia came off quite genuine in her portrayal of an unemotional killer, although the hints of some emotion really got me interested... will she revert to becoming human again? As for Sakai, she reminded me of a help-seeking swordsmaiden (or do the English call them ShieldMaiden? I prefer the former) but did not really stand out as much as the other two. The clashing personalities really did make the read enjoyable, still.

Miscellaneous

Wild Card - 6

It began in the bar, it ended in the bar. Or so most of the story was. Having Christoph ending the quest with the first few lines from his very first lines is a nice touch, making the story seem to loop back into itself. Also, the readers learn something new here - A bar fight stays in the bar. I should reference that for later writing! :D

Total Score - 61!

Christoph receives 1,250 EXP and 240 GP
Aesculus receives 850 EXP and 200 GP
Angel of Light receives her EXP bar, along with 600 EXP and 100 GP

[Letho]

EXP/GP added! Christoph, welcome to the next level.