Distractions

[Lavinian Pride]

(Open to one)

Sarah sipped the bitter ale. The promenade had only recently started serving the brew, but she was simply there on her way elsewhere. However, when she drank from the cup she couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic of the home that produced the ale. As she leaned over her glass her hair formed a curtain leaving her far away from the other people in the tavern.

As she held the glass up her grey eyes focused on how full the glass truly was. She was at the old philosophical question of how full or empty it truly was, and she knew without a doubt, the glass was half empty. Her life was a borrowed soul in a borrowed body. She was a mistake and she hated herself more each day she had to acknowledge it.

It had been so bad, that even mentioning the name Seth set her off. It put her on edge like an explosive keg of gunpowder, the fuse slowly burning until someone stupidly tried to approach her. The offending party was often on the ground while a thorn was being pulled out of the ground near his crotch. A curt few words that seemed to speak volumes of how much she hated to be bothered would be said and she would be given wide berth for the night.

Tonight however the other people seemed to get the hint and left the lonely vixen to her own devices. It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep the night away; it was that she was tired of being tossed aside when someone had their fun. She hated being just someone’s one night stand on the path to where they were going, and so because of this, she often drank herself to sleep, not wanting anyone to get involved with her.

She needed someone who cared, who appreciated her, and wouldn't leave her by the road on their way somewhere else. She wanted someone who wasn't interested in what was under her clothing, but under her skin. And so tonight she drank alone again, despite the few stares she was bound to catch for the daggers on her belt, and the revealing outfit she wore. Her sports top and shorts hugged her curves as they were intended.

Another sip was given as she sighed and closed her eyes savoring the flavor and once more oblivious to what was going on around her.

[The Barbarian]

Tyrael’s glowing eyes seemed to fizzle as he stared at the pub’s door. He’d just finished a quest involving the once undead crawling city in Raiaera, but nothing had come of it except a “thank you, now leave”. The one up side is he had been spared his life, but was still clueless as to find a means as to how he was supposed to live up to a legend. He had accepted his role as a “savior”, but still felt he was the wrong guy for the job.

What he was right for was a good round of drinks. He hadn’t had a drop of liquor in months and he felt one would hit the spot. But somewhere, deep down in his gut, he knew this wasn’t going to help much of anything.

“Screw it,” he said as he pushed his way through the doors. He’d let his conscience worry him during his hangover time.

The bar wasn’t that bad. Supposedly it was “peaceful”, but he felt it was more “dull” than anything else. Faces were glum, depressed, and just plain sad. There were some lively sounding chats, but nothing Tyrael was particularly interested in. He strode towards the bar, letting the patrons know he wasn’t one to be trifled with; drunk or not.

“Something hard…and make it a double.”

The barkeep nodded his balding head as he reached under the counter and started preparing the drink. Tyrael rubbed his eyes as he sighed some frustration out of his body. Althanas was a big place. Trying to find his next “test” was like looking for a needle in a burning haystack. Sure, the haystack would be gone eventually, but by then the needle would be charred and useless. He didn’t have a lot of time.

“Here ya ar’ sonnie.”

Tyrael nodded as he closed his large hand around the tall shot glass and slammed it down his throat. It stung like acid and tasted worse…but it was strong and he got slightly light headed for a second. During that second, a man walked up to the bar and started talking to the barkeep in hushed words. Tyrael didn’t care much until he mentioned some words pertaining to him.

“And I don’ even know why you let people like ‘em drink in ‘ere. First you let tha’ pair o’ locked legs in…and now this! If you don’ tell ‘em somethin’ soon, we’ll tell ‘em ourselves…”

As the stinging subsided, Tyrael wondered who the “locked legs” person was and why they would have enemies so quickly. However, he knew very well that the man was talking about him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Got something to say shorty?”

The man looked about forty or so, slicked back hair, slightly scruffy around the chin and neck, but other than that, seemed fairly normal. He had a pair of squinty eyes that didn’t sit well with the barbarian, who promptly glared back at the older man. However, the man snorted and walked away, back to his group near a wall. “Eight.” Tyrael said silently to himself as he counted their numbers. And who is the other person?

“Another drink, if you don’t mind,” he said over his shoulder. He could hear the barkeep making his order. Apparently, he felt gold was gold, no matter who it came from. Locked legs… he thought as he reached for the drink as it was set down on the counter quickly.

[Lavinian Pride]

Sarah poured the remnants of the bottle of ale into her glass as she sighed gripping the glass once more. She had finished a bottle in the night and knew she would more than likely have a hang over tomorrow, but couldn't seem to care much. Not that anything mattered anymore. As she continued to drink she sighed as she finished the cup and looked glumly at the bottle.

"Figures, not even the ale wants to stick around anymore..." She muttered softly. Her words were slightly slurry but she still held an air of some ferocity about her. As she started to rise from her seat to get her room she heard chairs shuffle in unision. Sighing she sat back down clutching her heead as the noise thundered somewhere within the cavity that housed her brain. Muttering she said, "Not so loud..."

Soon she heard a few whispers before the chair across from her was pulled. Looking up sharply she saw one of the men she had disuaded from seeking her companionship sit down his fingers intertwining as he did so. She could vaguely count two behind her and two on either side of the man, but she knew that there was probably more. He grinned as he gave her a once over that made her feel like jumping in a cold shower to scrub clean from. She tried to get up only to be forced back down into her chair.

"Well now, seems we've had a bit ta drink haven't we?" The man said. A few chuckles echoed through the room. Sarah's hands started to go for her daggers when the men moved and gripped her hands by the wrists. She struggled but to no avail, their grip forced them up and behind her head, well out of any useful position. The leader of the lecherous crew then got up and walked over to her before he said, "Now Lass, where I come from women are not ta be left alone, things tend ta happen to them. They need a nice strong man to protect them..."

Sarah spat venemously, "I suppose you're going to be that man? Should have castrated you and save myself the trouble of doing it now..."

"Listen here you wench, ye're going to do as I say. Ye've not entertained a single man since ye got here, and I feel you might just be a little shy..." He said as he reached out and gripped Sarah's face in one hand. Kissing her rather ineptly and roughly she brought her knee up into the man's groin. As he cried out in pain clutching his most private parts, his friends slackened their grip on her wrists giving her the chance to break free. Her daggers sang from their holsters cutting the belts on the two men behind her before she had to fend off the others. As the two behind her fumbled with their pants she kicked the ring leader pushing him into his other friends as she began to fight just to get out of her chair.

"Touch me again and I'll cut your hands off!" She spat as the chair finally slid from under her.

[The Barbarian]

Slugging down his drink, he hissed silently as it tore through his throat again. Smacking his lips in slight pleasure of the fleeting euphoria, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the relaxed state he had finally sought. Until the commotion started.

The man who had annoyed Tyrael earlier was now on another person. A woman; a rather pretty woman. Locked legs…makes sense. He had led his gang around her spot at the bar and they began to say rude statements that even a barbarian like Tyrael would blink at; this was no way to treat a lady. “Hmmm…I’d like another round ready for when I get back,” he said over his shoulder and he leaned off the counter. He cracked his knuckles as he slowly began to walk over towards their area.

Why help her? Because she’s an outcast like me? Not welcome in the place most people go? Meh…that’s enough reason to fight a jackass like him.

“Easy ther’ youngin’. Yous don’ wanna be fightin’ ol’ Stanmen. Look what he gon’ an’ don’ ta me!” A raspy old voice said.

The barbarian groaned. He knew the voice of a ghost when he heard one. They had the sound of someone talking brashly from the other end of an empty hall. Looking in the direction of the specter’s words, he grimaced at the sight. The ghost’s head had a split at the top, like someone had brought an ax down on it; he was missing an eye, a left arm, three fingers on his right, and a fairly large chunk out of his right abdomen was missing. The ghost’s could either present themselves as normal as anyone else or how they looked when they died. Most chose the latter.

“Not a pretty sigh’ is it?”

Tyrael shook his head.

“Powerfu’ man he is! I had a debt o’ 500 gol’ coinz…an’ this is wha’ he don’! Bes’ be watchin’ yo’ back!”

Tyrael nodded as he left the ghost by a table with two men arm wrestling. A slight grin came to his mind as he thought of what the spirit might be thinking, watching them struggle like that, but his grin faded as he saw the young girl draw her daggers. The men were now extremely angry and began to brandish their own small rusty knives and daggers. Except Stanmen. He was busy collecting himself off the ground, one testicle at a time. He coughed harshly as he slurred out some curse words and began to draw an unknown weapon from his back…but he never got the chance. Tyrael’s foot came crashing up under his chin and he went sprawling through a couple of chairs as his body rolled to a halt. His lackeys cursed at the barbarian for entering and how they were nothing but overgrown ditch diggers. All brawn and no brain.

“Heh, is that what you think?” Tyrael said under his breath as lifted his right hand. His ring sparkled brilliantly from the candle flames by the walls, causing the diamond to throw dainty bits of orange and red off its surface. Suddenly a flash of light erupted from its core in a concentrated beam right into the eyes of the man closest to him, who to the right of the girl. He screamed in agony as he eyes ached and burned, flailing his arms wildly as he crashed into an unoccupied table.

That was when the real fun started. Two men rushed the barbarian, who reflexively jumped back, but forgot about the table behind him, and since he had a couple of strong drinks, fell onto his back hard. The wind knocked out of him briefly, he wheezed roughly, trying to get back up. But that wasn’t an option. One man had leapt over him like a rabbit and grabbed his arms, interlocking them with his own. He then used all his body weight to keep them over Tyrael’s head and jammed against the table. With no real source of oxygen at the ready for his muscles, the barbarian was in a bit of a pickle at the moment.

Shit. He thought as he saw the second man, who was armed with a chair, slam it down onto the warrior’s chest. The chair broke into splinters, but it still hurt like hell. Unfortunately for Tyrael, his weapons, his bastard sword and great axe were resting comfortably at the bar, nowhere near his arm’s reach. Suddenly, an immense amount of pain was spreading over his abdomen. He looked down and saw the second man using the legs of the broken chair as clubs, beating on him as if he were a giant war drum.

Oh screw this. He thought as he gritted his teeth and concentrated. Inhaling as deeply as he could, he let the air travel through his body, letting his heart pump it through his blood. Yes! He flung his legs up swiftly, cracking the club-guy in the skull with his left knee. He let his momentum keep going, causing his body to roll over the table, now putting him behind the prick that liked to hug.

“Like feelin’ up guys huh?” Tyrael said as he broke the man’s hold and bear hugged him. The man screamed in pain as the barbarian laughed in his throat, deep boasting laughs. “Like that you punk?!” He squeezed harder, hearing muscles in his elbows snap from the pressure.

Yea, this is how you do it… Tyrael thought with glee.

[Lavinian Pride]

While Sarah had been able to start most of the engagement somewhat sober, the debilitating effects of the alcohol in her system began to kick in as he blood really got going. Unable to stand steady she swung at one man, only to grunt as another hit her from behind. With a snarl she would turn on that one only to be hit again. She knew this wasn't going to end well if something didn't happen.

Then a huge barbarian got involved in the mix. Trying to think of what to say the words escaped her before she began to go in earnest after the man and his twin brother in front of him. Swinging at the first she cursed when she realized there was no twin, just that she was seeing double. As she brought her foot around she connected with another nut cracking shot bringing the man to his knees before one of the men tackled her from behind.

The man she kicked vomited from pain as she began to brawl, not even bothering with her daggers as she began to punch kick and claw at the man who attacked her. Knees and elbows got throw into the mix until the man had to back off his clothes torn and tattered as she growled loudly and jumped atop him, "Don't get away that easy you bastard!"

Soon a gunshot resounded through the bar as the tender had more than enough of the show. Every one of the other fighters seemed to stop upon hearing the distinct click of a lock sliding in place, pushing a fresh bullet into the chamber. Then the tender's voice boomed through, hitting Sarah upside the head in her drunken stupor, "Stanmen, if ye still got tha balls ta fight I got a bullet for you, that goes double for the rest of you, clean out, you've had yer fun, now git!"

The first of the cowardly men, the one Sarah had thoroughly thrashed bolted for the door. Slowly one by one the men left, leaving Stanmen and who could only be guessed as his right hand man. Stanmen groaned as he clutched his groin before he looked venomously at Sarah, 'This isn't over you wench, I'll make you pay for this..."

"I'll expect change later," Sarah spat as she wiped a bit of blood from her lip. Picking up her daggers she holstered them as she groaned clutching her head. The lightheaded feeling was gone, replaced by a pounding headache. The slightly nauseating feeling in her stomach was also starting to worsen when she ran over to the nearest pot and retched. The sound filled the rest of the tavern as the men watched the Lavinian vomit all she drank into the pot, perhaps even helping whatever was trying to grow there. Another retch escaped her lips before she finally felt she was done and wiped her mouth. She didn't cry, she didn't moan, she simply got up shakily.

The tender then spoke up, "Listen, I overlooked the first few tussles, but now my property's damaged, I gotta ask ya te leave."

"I didn't feel like sleeping here anyways," She said just loud enough for the tender to hear. Clutching her head she moved over to the table that started it all. Sighing as she realized she wasn't drunk enough anymore she cursed softly and grabbed her bag roughly.

Throwing it over her arm the tender then spoke, "Take yer friend with ya, I don't need you two starting up again..."

She looked at the tender confused before she saw the man he was pointing to. She then spat, "He's no friend of mine, I don't even know his name!"

"Doesn't matter the two of ye can go to hell for I care, just get out of here. Ye've caused enough damage, just count yer blessings I ain't making ye pay fer it..."

She muttered something about what he could do with the money as she moved to leave. Her anger was somewhere near a boiling point as she slammed the door resounding behind her, hoping, just hoping she caught the big lug in the face. She didn't ask for his help, and most certainly she didn't need it. Sure she had a few bruises, but that was natural, you fight, you have a few bruises and victory scars. She didn't need help, ever.

[The Barbarian]

As Tyrael dropped the man from his mighty clutch, he eyed the girl. She was a drunken fighter, but a fighter nonetheless. He could tell that if she had been a bit more sober, those men would be wishing they could cradle their sore jewels. The barkeep was not as interested in the girl as Tyrael was, since he ordered them both out of his establishment.

Tyrael shrugged, not really caring. He was used to ridicule. When you had glowing eyes, people often gave you odd looks. The ability to be steadfast in their constant attacks of his appearance and heritage was something that didn’t happen overnight. It took years of tears, fighting constantly, and putting a wall up. Seldom did anyone come close to scaling it, but none ever did. Without the ability to have visible pupils, it was often hard to read the saddened visage of the warrior. Now, as he picked up his great axe and set it carefully onto his back, he could hear the sounds of the girl’s liquor making its triumphant return.

Some people just can’t hold their liquor… he thought with a grin. She had just finished her last round while he was placing his bastard sword next to his axe. The feeling was secure enough that he felt he was ready to start heading out, but when her words spewed out as harshly as her booze had, the barbarian’s blood flared. She would’ve been another ghost to him if he hadn’t have stepped in! It’s true he wasn’t her friend, but he was trying out the whole “help those in need” crap, and here it was, slapping him back in the face!

He was about to say something to her when she turned for the door. Flipping the barkeep a gold coin for his drinks, he headed after her, at the same time backhanding a person laughing at him swiftly, breaking his nose. He was almost on her when she slammed the door behind herself, almost catching him in the nose. But his reflexes were quick enough that he slammed it back open with his hands.

“Hey!” He shouted as he jumped down the few steps. “What’s your damn problem? I help you from being worm food and you treat me worse than those lowlifes?!” No one had to look at his eyes to wonder if he was upset or not.

His gritted teeth and heavy breathing were all the signs anyone needed.

[Lavinian Pride]

"What's my problem?" She asked almost incredulously. She then walked back to face the oaf of a barbarian as she looked him dead in the eyes anger and bitterness brewing in the storm of her grey irises. Her teeth gritted as her hand clenched into a fist. She then moved hoping against hope her ponytail would just hit him across the cheek as an annoyance to the irritant that insisted he was helping.

"What's my problem?" She asked a bit calmer, but no less volatile, "Let's go off a list. I try to just have a nice peaceful night, and I get tossed in a fight, that I could handle on my own. Then some oaf of a barbarian thinks he can just come in and save the damsel in distress. Now, said oaf has decided to try and press his advantage probably to get something out of me. You'll be sadly mistaken if you expect me to give you anything for meddling in my affairs..."

Her clenched fist seemed to be infectious as her other hand also clenched. Pointing at him she spat, "I don't what it is with the men tonight, maybe it’s something in the liquor, but I want it abundantly clear, I don't need nor do I ever want your help. Nor do I want or need any man to come onto me, and that my "friend" was a rather poor way of trying to come onto any woman let alone me..."

She turned getting ready to go as she grumbled shouldering her pack. Looking around she saw only one other inn she could stay at and sighed moving towards it. With the promenade closed to her she would need some place to rest before she could finally move on and forget the headache that was pounding in her head, and the fact she would probably not afford traveling and getting drunk again. As she moved on she only hoped that the barbarian got the hint and left her alone.

[The Barbarian]

Tyrael’s nose twitched as her hair brushed his face. He could feel a sneeze brewing somewhere deep in his nasal cavity, but fought desperately to hold it down. His right eye trembled involuntarily as he clenched his fists tightly, not wanting to spit all over her face as she attempted to “tear him a new one”.

What the hell…

She was certainly full of herself. Being a barbarian didn’t turn him into some bumbling buffoon that only wanted sex. It was people like her that could turn him to the dark path of his journey without even trying very hard.

“Hey, that chip on your shoulder is almost as big as me,” he said to her as she spied an inn. “Listen, I don’t know you nor do I care if you like me or not. I only did what I felt was right. Keep your legs closed forever; I frankly don’t want that.” He fished around in his own small pack and took out twenty coins. He reached over with his long arm and dropped it into the opening of her pack, hoping they’d all make it in.

“There. Should tide you over, since I caused you so much trouble, you little angel,” he said with a smirk. “Try not to drink it all away too fast…” he said with a laugh as he walked past her. He could tell if she ever opened up to him, it would be because Stanmen had caught her and done that himself with a sword. Sober, she’d be fine. But he couldn’t let her take those men on drunk. You did right. Now go find someplace to hit the hay. Yawning, his eyes squinted for a second, creating a darkness in his vision that unsettled him. He had to watch out for Stanmen and his boys, since he knew they’d want payback.

Rounding a corner at the end of the road, he noticed an inn that seemed modest enough to house a warrior as himself. He could feel another yawn brewing up inside his lungs. Letting it take full flight, his eyes closed completely. The air coming back into his body was refreshing and tasteful. He felt he could yawn like this forever.

Until something hard and blunt hit the back of his head, sending him sprawling onto the dirt road face first.

Before his consciousness faded, he heard faintly, “F*ckin’ barbarian…”

[Lavinian Pride]

She stopped as she heard the gold dropping into her pack. The words given while sarcastic came close to unleashing a storm of fury from the girl before he walked off. Grumbling under her breath she muttered, "Sanctimonious son of a bitch..."

Moving to her preferred rest spot she stopped when she caught movement off in the peripheral. Looking around she sighed irritated as she moved again, just hoping to sleep and be done with it. She'd even put up with the damn feelings of loneliness if it meant that tonight could be over with. As she moved she heard the sound of whooshing air before she felt a sting at her neck.

Her hand drifted up to find a dart, small and feathered in her neck. Turning to the direction it came from a couple of men seemed to come at her as she stumbled a step. Daggers were drawn as the men chuckled one of them speaking, "Locked legs gonna fight? I give you at most two steps before you collapse, that is a sleeping drug, and you’ll be nighty night for a good two hours after that shot..."

"Gives me two steps to kick yer asss..." She slurred as she took the first step. The men chuckled as one stepped forward well into range. As she moved to swing he blocked it and shoved her hard on the chest. A cry of outrage left her lips as she fell back on the ground, taking the battle internally where it should have started. Fighting against the rising tide she found herself quickly drowning, falling deep into the dark abyss of the poison.

One of the men looked down at her before he slapped her in the face hard. A red hand print appeared on her face before he spat, "That’s what you get for kicking me in the nuts you frigid bitch. I'm going to make my go with you as rough and painful as possible..."

"Come on, Stanmen is going to get upset if we don't get her back to him soon. He wants first go anyways, won't do you any good to waste the potion since we gotta carry the slut..." The other man said. Picking up Sarah's form he looked at her pack before he grabbed it tossing it to his partner in crime, "See if you can't fish something out to tide you over till then. I figure she's as good as dead once we're through with the little whore."

The other man only sighed as he said, "We got the barbarian right? I figure we could have some fun making them fight, no weapons of course, but still. Frigid bitch and brute can go at it, loser dies of course, either way we get our fun with the girl and the brute..."

"Stanmen's decision not ours, we just kidnap the wenches, we don't make the decisions once we got them..."

[The Barbarian]

((OOC: Bunny Approved.))

My f*ckin’ head…

Tyrael groaned as his mind began to rise above the fog. He could hear wind, crickets, and somewhere an owl was being incredibly monotonous and annoying. Blinking slowly, he felt a throbbing at the base of his neck and could feel his upper body bruising up. He could tell a small lantern was near his body, since his feet were warmer than the rest of his body. His arms were above his head, tied to a wooden beam with rope, much colder than his feet. He glanced around his area, but darkness was still his enemy, masking everything the tiny beacon couldn’t reach. He could hear two people breathing near him though, so he knew he wasn’t entirely alone.

“Oh lookie’ ‘ere! The big one is awake!” Someone snarled.

“I take it he wants a beatin’ while o’wake!”

Motherf*ckers…

“Oh didn’ like tha’? Well, ya like this?!” Suddenly, a fairly strong punch connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped for air as spit trickled out of his mouth, wheezing and struggling to get free of the rope. But his legs were bound as well, so he couldn’t maneuver or lash out in the slightest. This is what the angels had in store for me? Death by lackeys?

“Take it easy on the guest.” A smooth voice said. “We wan’ him ta feel…welcom’…” That’s when the leader seemingly melted out of the darkness.

“Blow it out your ass, Stanmen.” Tyrael spat.

A few of the men chuckled, knowing Tyrael wasn’t in much of a position to be insulting anyone. He still couldn’t see any of them, but he knew they were there. “Hmm, jus’ like tha’ bitch. Well, we’ll see who’s da’ top dog once I un-lock those legs…” he said with a menacing grin. Tyrael’s eyes narrowed as he wondered what they were talking about before suddenly realizing that they must’ve caught the girl from the bar as well. Great…hope she can handle herself. Don’t even know where she is.

“Wonderin’ where she is, hero?” Tyrael bared his teeth as he tried to break away the ropes, but failed miserably. “Hah, goo’ luck on tha’. We mae’ sure tha’ them ropes are tied nice an’ tigh’.” He snickered. “An’ she’s right over there.” He snapped his fingers and the sound of a punch to the face resounded through the darkness.

"I knew you guys were rough, but bondage, isn't that taking it a bit far?" The girl said from within the shadows.

Crazy ass bitch… Tyrael thought with a grin.

[Lavinian Pride]

A resounding slap hit the air as one of the men hit her with a backhand. She spat out the blood before she said, "Should have known you were into that kinky Sado masocist crap..." Another hit winded her as she refused to shut up croaking, "I don't play that way boys..."

"For once in your life bitch, shut up!" A man growled as he hit her again. This time she had to remain silent as she was winded and trying to recover her breath. Soon another lantern was lit revealing her to be in some kind of stall. Wincing as the light hit her she heard the last voice she ever wanted to hear.

"Well now, if it isn't my shy girl..." Stanmen's voice drifted through the air. As she groaned a foot carefully pried her legs apart before he said, "Yeah, locked legs alright. I'll give you a chance to live though, if you'll be a whore for me, customers would pay to get their hands on a hot little body like yours, and since I got your gear, I don't think you'd be too dangerous if we tied you down..."

"Go to hell..." She managed wheezing before she felt a boot connect with her ribcage collapsing her lungs and winding her again. She coughed and gasped while Stanmen knelt beside her and grabbed her by her hair pulling roughly to force her to look at him. Looking up she could see anger and hatred burning in his eyes as he drew her face closer to his.

She could smell the left over bits of his dinner on his breath as he hissed, "You're going to beg by the end of this you slut, then I'm going to make you pay for nearly castrating me. I'll be your first customer and so will my boys, that way you learn to treat us with respect."

She continued to gasp as he said, "Start begging and I may not go so rough on you princess. Otherwise, I'm going to have to break you in..." A few chuckles echoed through the area as more lanterns were lit revealing them to be in some kind of barn. Across the main area from Sarah was the Barbarian who had rescued her from her earlier plight. Groaning she looked down her hair covering her face before Stanmen grabbed a handful and yanked her head back up, "Start talking to me bitch, start begging..."

Another cough was heard through the air before the sound of her forcing as much spit through her pursed lips could be heard. Stanmen took a step back as he growled, "You little whore! You think this is a game?" He then wiped the spit from his face as he went over to another stall. The sound of something metallic scraping the floor could be heard as he moved, large battle axe in hand into her stall and said, "I could just gut you and have my fun, either way I'm going to make you beg for it..."

[The Barbarian]

Shit shit shit! Tyrael’s mind raced as he saw that all eyes were on the spectacle. Now was his best chance to get loose, but he’d also need to be the distraction she’d need in order to live a few extra seconds.

His arms began to ache from being held up for so long and his back was starting to cramp. He really had no other choice but to use his Break ability. Doubling his strength would quite literally rip the rope into pieces, but getting to her was a whole other problem. Berserker would make him faster, but it would reduce his ability to keep them up.

Wait….perfect!

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his mark, making sure to focus correctly and not screw things up. Another life was in his hands, as bitchy as she could be, and he wasn’t about to mess up now. Perhaps this was his test…the test of protecting others who were complete and total strangers…

“Break!!” Tyrael roared as his strength doubled. He tore away the rope like cotton candy and broke away at the bindings at his leg. Stooping low before they could get on him, he grabbed the lantern next to him and swinging it into the face of the guy on his left. Glass and cheap iron erupted on his nose and forehead, sending shards falling to the ground. Tyrael could hear an order from Stanmen, who was now looking at the monster on the loose, and scooped up the largest piece of glass from the ground. Grabbing a man rushing him by the throat, he lifted him off the ground and tossed him like a sack of potatoes into two other men.

“F*ck!” Stanmen said as he began to turn back to the girl, who was hanging as helpless as a dead rabbit in some butcher’s shop. Flinging the glass with all his might before three men jumped on top of him, it flew like a saucer, slicing through most of the rope holding her up. His immense strength treated the glass like an arrow, but he still hadn’t the strength to fully cut her down. If she yanked down hard enough, she’d break free, but she was on her own now. Tyrael was busy taking body shots and clawing at a guy hanging around his neck as if he were a cape.

Help…those…in…need! Tyrael’s conscious rose from some grave deep within his mind, telling him that he could still help before the other men reached him. Stanmen was about to gut her like a fish…but his attention wasn’t on the barbarian anymore. Reaching behind his head with both hands, the warrior grabbed the man on his back by the head, ripped it off violently, like someone might pull a vegetable out of tough soil, and chucked it like a ball at Stanmen, clocking him on the side of the head.

There…bought ya some time… He thought as he shook the corpse off his back and stumbled back, adrenaline gone. His strength was still with him, but his breath was fading. The two other men had been going to work on his front and now he was feeling the effects. And still another three men finished circling him in.

One last move I got before I’m completely screwed… He thought with a smile. This was battle. This was what a barbarian lived for…

[Lavinian Pride]

As the glass cut through the rope Stanmen lifted the axe. Sliding his shoulder down he made to swing at her before she hissed, "Never corner a Lavinian!" Pulling down on the ropes Stanmen's attack missed the mark and sank into the soft wood of the stall side. Before he could act she had already grabbed the glass shard from the ground and moved to slash.

Stanmen was not a fool and seeing the glint of the glass in the light of the lantern let his axe go before jumping back. The sound of metal upon metal could be heard as Sarah got to her feet dropping into the stance of a Lavinian dagger fighter. Her eyes locked onto Stanmens as he spoke, "That’s it bitch, when I'm through with you you're hanging outside the promenade, no one crosses Stanmen and lives..."

"Funny, I would think the same would go for picking on a Dahlios..." Sarah said arrogantly as she waited on Stanmen's strike. She knew going on the offensive wouldn’t work as she only had a glass shard; she had to make it count.

Stanmen however seemed all too eager as he lunged forward rather stupidly. Sarah grabbed his hand pulling him forward before she sank the tip of the glass deeply inside him. Her hand moved along the hilt of the dagger as she pulled it out of his hand and with an expert twirl slashed through the major arteries of her victim. Coughing, and with a wet gasp, he fell to his knees as copious amounts of blood escaped him. She then took the dagger and stabbed down into his spine, separating the vertebrae before neatly cutting it. The men nearby watched in horror as she twirled the dagger casually and pointed it towards one of the goons.

The man saw the rampaging Barbarian and the pissed of frigid bitch before he shouted, "Stanmen's dead lets jet!"

“Better run” She growled before she looked around. Noticing a second dagger on Stanmen she frowned before she knelt by the corpse. She then muttered, “You little…stole my daggers and everything!” Tearing her dagger belt off the body she once more let it go around her waist before the adrenaline shorted out. Groaning as she leaned against the wall she gripped her ribs as she said, “Ooh I think that last kick bruised these guys…”

[The Barbarian]

Tyrael raised his arms to fight, even though they burned like the very depths of Hell. It was more of a scare tactic than anything else, since his body was throbbing with pain. It was then he heard the cry of fright as Stanmen went down and the rest of his crew ran out of the barn. Walking slowly over to the girl, who was leaning against a wall, he said, “Name’s Tyrael. Don’t gotta tell me yours, but I thought my own name sounded kinda better than ‘oaf’…”

He grinned at her as he turned away to gather his weapons that they had thrown into a corner. Heh…didn’t even need them… He thought as he looked at his bloody hands. Pieces of flesh from where he’d dug his fingers under the man’s chin were under his nails. Slightly grossed out but not negating how manly he felt, he left it there, not caring much about personal hygiene at the moment.

As he hoisted his weapons onto his back, he told the girl, “If ya want, you can ride on my back. I won’t feel your weight for a good eight or nine more minutes; should be enough time to get back to the main road.

“Wow! Whoooo boy! Ya did it! Woooooopdeeeeedoooooo!!!!!”

Tyrael’s eyes closed as he heard the sound of the ghost from earlier. He opened them and turned to face him, but was surprised to see a few dozen other ghosts with him. Apparently, Stanmen had been quite the busy bee.

They all cheered and gave random but ordinary thanks and ghostly hugs. He couldn’t hug them back, since the young woman would see Tyrael hugging the air, but he just smiled at the ghosts as they faded away, their killer now killed. “Good job, Tyrael. You are learning…”

The barbarian smiled, recognizing the voice of his angelic mentor. He’d given the hero thing a shot, and ended up helping more people than he thought possible. But I didn’t even get a chance to kill him…

Shaking away his small regrets, he looked at her with quizzical eyes. “So you need my help or you still got it on your own?” He said with a soft smile.

[Lavinian Pride]

Sarah remained still for what seemed like forever as she heard the last of the men bolt. She was in pain that much she knew. How much was a question that she knew would probably be answered the next morning, with a nice long bath and a relaxing day. For now it was so late she would pass out as soon as she hit the bed, which she was grateful for if nothing else that night went right.

Every breath hurt and every pain was magnified now that she was fully feeling her body. As she closed her eyes she looked down, many loose strands of hair falling to make a curtain as she assessed the damage. She could feel numerous bruises and aches forming as she took a steadying breath. Realizing Tyrael was waiting for an answer she braced herself. As she looked at him she chuckled softly before wincing, "I thought you'd know by now, Sarah Dahlios doesn't take help form anyone..."

She then sighed as she took a few shaky steps before she groaned and clutched her side. Moving over to Tyrael she said, "However, I'll pay you to carry me back to the main road, twenty gold sound fair?"

She knew he might get the joke, however she also secretly hoped he wouldn't. The twenty gold was what seemed like ages ago, when she had nearly slammed a door in his face. Things had seemed simpler then, now she was stuck with an odd friend if anything, and was in the middle of a barn her dagger belt around her slender hips and her pack pulling her shoulder and giving her a constant source of annoyance through pain.

Looking up at her barbarian comrade she waited to see his reaction.

[The Barbarian]

((OOC:Bunny Approved.))

“I suppose. But don’t pay me ‘til we get there.” He said with a wink.

He bent low as he scooped her up in his arms. She seemed to weigh not even one pound; it was as if he were walking with his arms out in front of him. “Let’s go.” He said softly as he stepped out into the darkness of the night. The same owl was still hooting like a moron, but it was cut short as the sound of a predator nabbed it. Smiling, Tyrael felt justice would always prevail.

The walk back wasn’t too hard, mainly walking over fallen logs, trampling through bushes, and scaring off the random lone coyote or wolf that felt hungry. The term "not out of the woods yet" was becoming all to clear to him. But he made fairly good time and reached the road just as his Break was about to wear off. He could feel his arms becoming as heavy as lead and twice as stiff. Letting them hang at his sides, he nodded his head at the young woman, “Well, Sarah, this is it. Fate’ll let us know when we’ll meet again.” He looked at her with his big glowing blue eyes, “And don’t let that spirit die. You leaning against a wall doesn’t suit ya.” Weakly raising his left hand, he patted her lightly on the shoulder, “Take care of yourself.”

On that note, he turned and walked away, heading for the Bazaar. Perhaps his next test would lie somewhere within the depths of a merchant’s money grubbing hands. Even though he was bruised, bloody, exhausted, and very hungry…he felt like he wouldn’t have traded this night for any other. He’d made a friend, albeit in a very odd fashion, learned something new about himself.

“I had complete faith in you Tyrael.” His mentor said.

The warrior nodded slightly, smiling proudly, a part of his heart shining brighter than ever before.

[Lavinian Pride]

Without even a word of warning he swept her quite literally off her feet. Rather than fight against the rather suave treatment she went with it. Let him think he was the good guy. She was tired, sore and frankly didn't want to deal with bumping egos. They had clashed once already and she didn’t like the fact she came off twenty gold richer.

As she waited for them to make it through she rested her head on his chest. The rocking of her body as he carried her made her feel like a little girl being carried by her parents away from the mean monsters. She felt almost safe in his arms, yet it was a false security. They had both needed each other. Had he not freed her, she'd have been dead, but if she hadn't been freed, he would have been swarmed until he couldn't fight. It was this fact ringing in the back of her mind that reminded her that the world was dangerous, and she had to always be vigilant.

As they finally reached the road she stood on her feet a bit shaken and wobbly but alright. As he spoke he began to walk off as she checked her gear before she gave him a casual salute. Moving to the inn she had wanted to stay in she paid for a cheap room and began the tired trudge upstairs. With each step she could hear gold jingle in her satchel before she reached her room. Finally once in the safety of the inn's room she looked in her pack to see twenty gold staring her in the face.

"Son of a..."

He had left without her giving back a single coin of his money. She knew that she should have remembered, but part of her felt partial to the gold. Slipping off her gloves she carefully cupped it in a slender hand. She wasn’t one who enjoyed taking gifts from others, but she was almost pleased to see the gold in her hand. Sighing as she collapsed on the bed she closed her eyes as the moon began its downward trek. Perhaps no one would know who killed Stanmen, but the gift of an Underwood free from the crime lord would certainly be welcome.

Raising her head up she blew out the light of the candle letting darkness claim her world once more.

[Storm Veritas]

JUDGMENT TIME!

A very nice little quest here. I like that neither of you were too far reaching, and didn't attempt to create some monstrous scale search for the Holy Grail. Both of you write very well, and I had a good time reading this; it was well crafted and very easy to follow. I'll give some criticisms, but it is more opinion than cold advice, as most of the stuff I don't care for is subjective. There is little to nothing that was done wrong here.

Also, I will be using the traditional rubric, probably for the last time here.

Introduction - 7 Very nicely done. I don't mind the cliched tavern entrance when it's done well. This was good, although the speed of development of the opening scene doesn't match the rest of the thread.
Setting - 5 I had a very good feel of setting in the bar, but setting was somewhat inconsistent here. I like the succinct writing style, but sometimes I just didn't get a feel of the environment.
Character - 7 Very well done. Sarah is by nature a little distant from the reader, but that mystery makes her interesting. Tyrael is expulsive, a bit simple, but easy to delve into. I was satisfied here.
Writing Style - 6 I've seen better from you, Sarah, but it was certainly very solid. A simple endeavor, but well executed.
Tyrael shows a ton of promise, but there were a few things that annoyed me. There were several points where it was clear that you didn't re-read your post before throwing it up there, because even though the spelling was correct, the text didn't read right. Also, I strongly recommend against specifically "naming" your skills in combat. It seems very dragonball z-ish, and unrealistic. Would he really care what the name of his powers were, or would he just do it?
Again, I'm nitpicking here, because the writing was very good on the whole. In my experience, with all the mistakes I make in writing, I love to have an honest vantagepoint, so I don't pull punches when I see stuff that I think could be improved. I can't stress enough that these are subjective opinions, and that you can take or leave my thoughts, because you're obviously both good writers.
Dialogue - 8 Strong. Strong to very strong. Both were for the most part very convincing, and I love the attitude you two convey with thoughts and phrases. To nitpick once again, I thought the NPCs were a bit cliche with their mean-spirit, and there could have been a bit more humor or just off-tempo style writing. And "Whoop-dee-doo" aggravated the hell out of me, because it seems very un-barbarian and childish. But that's me.
Rising Action - 5 Very good for a short quest. I was interested in the rescue, even though you could see it coming a mile away. I like that neither character was helpless or faultless. I liked that there was a sense of urgency. It just wasn't immensely compelling, or of a grandiose scale needed for a higher score.
Climax - 3 Well written and somewhat satisfying, but I would think tearing someone's head off and using it as a dodgeball, then killing the rapist ultra-asshole would warrant a bit more detail and emotion.
Conclusion - 6 Again, it was clean and well written, but lacked fire, and settled a short quest. It was serviceable. Having Sarah get robbed at the end was a cute little twist - I gave you an extra point for that.
Strategy - 4 Less than profound. I like simplish quests, but I could tell you what was going to happen in the next post almost without fail throughout the quest. Unnecessary turns aren't a good thing, but neither is predictability. To be fair, in a simple quest such as this, you're largely handcuffed with strategy. There isn't much you can do in terms of creating some complex conspiracy in a dozen and a half short posts. Even though 4 is a low score, I don't think you did poorly here, but the four is a product of your quest style in this case.
Wild Card - 6 Two very good writers make a very nice, cleanly written short quest. These are the types of quests that make Althanas fun, without always taking everything incredibly serious. Very nicely done. I've been a fan (and continue to be a fan) of the Dahlios family writing style, and now Tyrael has grabbed my interest as well.

SCORE - 57

SPOILS -
Lavinian Pride (level 1) gets 746 EXP and 100 gold (to hell with IC losses)
The Barbarian (level 1) gets 746 EXP and 100 gold

Good job folks. Looking forward to more from each of you, be it together, in solos, or involved with other Althanians.

[Thoracis]

EXP and GP added!