So a chef and an assassin walk into a bar...

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Closed to Christoph. These events take place immediately after "It was a dark and stormy night..." (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=6147) All bunnies approved ahead of time.

What the hell is this friggin' thing?

I was holding the glass sphere I "won" from my Citadel duel with that chef. It was cupped between my hands--small and cold to the touch, but a closer look revealed a raging storm inside the orb. This was definitely some magical artifact, but what exactly was it? What would it do? How do I make it work? And most importantly, why wasn't I informed about this thing being the prize when I entered the battle in the first place? Oh well, that's life for you.

As my heels clicked on the marble floors of the Citadel, I couldn't tear my eyes away from this mysterious object. I almost collided with the door on my way out. I took a seat on the rock steps leading up to the Citadel, trying to digest the fight I was just in. I remember it blow for blow; how the chef countered my wire and headbutted me in the nose, but more specifically my long fall and sudden stop on the rocks below... But I wasn't feeling any of the pain. Those monks did a damn fine job.

I could hear the heavy oak doors open behind me, another set of footsteps sounding against the rock staircase leading to the darkened streets of Radasanth. A man wearing a tattered white jacket and a chef's hat walked past me--immediately, I knew it was my opponent.

I then remembered two things: First, the look on his face when he saw what I had won. He must know about this artifact, perhaps he can tell me about it. Second, and more importantly, there was the unsettled matter of who was buying the drinks that he had promised during an awkwardly timed chit chat during the heat--sorry, drench--of the battle. I guess I won, so he owes me a night out on the taverns--and trust me, I know how to drink.

I quickly rose to my feet, my body filled with an energy that was rare for me. "Hey! You! You owe me booze!"

[Christoph]

Chris walked out of the Citadel, feeling the wonderful warm sun upon his face for the first time in almost a month. The feeling sent a tingle of blissful life through his body, as though his veins had filled with blood for the first time. The chef took a deep breath in and sighed. Strangely, he couldn’t even decide if the sigh was a happy one or a disappointed one.

On one hand, he was finally free. After a month in the custody of the Radisanth guards, being interrogated and forced to fight in the Citadel, Chris had been released because of the intervention of one of the Monks. He could finally go back home. On the other hand, he lost the battle that he was forced to fight. Normally, that wouldn’t have mattered much to him… but he saw that globe that his opponent won.

His mouth practically watered over the kind of power such an object would have in the hands of someone with magical talent – someone like him. Yet by some cruel twist of fate it had fallen into the hands of someone who probably couldn’t even tell the difference between the currents of magic and a strong liquor buzz. The thought was enough to nauseate him.

It was for this reason that the emotional paradox-suffering chef chose to pretend not to notice the pale girl in the purple dress that had been his foe as he walked by her on the street mere moments after departing from the Citadel. As it turned out, though, she had other plans. Chris forced himself not to cringe as she called out to him.

“Alcohol?” he asked, turning to face her. He fought to keep his eyes locked on her face instead of letting them drift to the magical Storm Sphere. “Early in the afternoon?” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, mumbling mostly incoherently.

“And I was already getting a headache…”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I raised an eyebrow at the chef, annoyed at the notion that it was too early to go to a tavern. "In case you forgot, I just fell two miles to my death. That's an experience I'd like to forget as soon as possible. You can bitch all you want over a pint. Hell, I'll even let you pick out the tavern."

I crossed my arms in defiance, holding the orb in one hand. I noticed that the chef was trying not to look at the Storm Sphere and the raging tempest that was contained inside. This guy might try something... I better put it away, I thought to myself. I slowly opened the satchel, but paused for a brief second. I suddenly realized that I had no flipping clue how to use this magician's toy.

Christopher's eyes were still glued to the orb, like a young child whose mom is holding a hot pan of gooey chocolate chip cookies just out of reach. I almost wanted to slap him and bring him to his senses, but I reached out with the orb.

"You look like you might know a thing or two about this. Care to tell me how this friggin' thing works?"

[Christoph]

Chris let out an exasperated sigh. “And in case you forgot, I had to bleed to death very slowly while you were falling, so don’t talk to me about needing booze. I—What?” The chef abruptly stopped his rant and gave her a sideways glance as she held the small glass sphere out. “What, that? Oh, it’s easy enough to use.”

“Uh huh…” replied the girl, clearly not convinced. Chris groaned.

“It’s just a simple process of binding the object to your will,” the weary cook explained with a few hand gestures that didn’t do a thing to make his explanation clearer. “And then, you know, channeling its power to your own wish to use it.” The girl blinked a few times.

“Um?” she muttered, raising a confused eyebrow. “So I just point at something and tell this thing to zap it?”

“No. That will almost certainly electrocute yourself,” Chris replied. Using magical devices was so natural for him at that stage in his arcane training that it was hard to explain it to rookies. “It’s more complex than that, I’m afraid.” The girl glared at him.

“And I suppose that you could use this stupid thing, then?” she asked, crossing her arms irritably.

“Probably without blinking or getting more than a little static cling on my chef coat,” he replied, the corners of his mouth confidently curling up slightly.

“All right you smug asshole, why don’t you teach me if you’re so great?”

Chris paused, a retort already in his throat. By all rights, he should tell the dumb bitch to piss off and go find a reputable pimp to buy her drinks for her after she burns all of her hair off trying to use her new toy. On the other hand, he wouldn’t put it past her to charge up behind him with her garrote wire and try to strangle him if he said no, and even if he managed to not get strangled, the last thing he needed was to get arrested again for “causing trouble.” Besides, maybe if he trained her how to use the lightning ball, she’d forget about making him buy the drinks.

“Fine.”

“What?” asked the girl, sincerely surprised at Chris’s response.

“I said fine. Follow me and we can find a place for me to teach you.”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The chef beckoned me to follow him with his finger, as if I was some small, helpless child. I half expected him to grab me by the wrist and drag me along the streets of Radasanth, given the impatient tone of his voice. I kept a few steps behind him as we wandered the nearly empty afternoon streets.

After five minutes, Chris stopped at the opening to an alleyway. "This place will be as good as any," he said tiredly. I took a glance down the corridor. There was a little light, and apart from a pile of garbage and a rain barrel, it was empty.

"Yes, I suppose," I sniffed. A sense of dread loomed over me as I stood there. Chris had been eying my prize for a while now. Perhaps he led me down here to blindside me and take the glass orb while I was recovering. The temptation to use the orb against the chef was overwhelming. I could just turn around, unload it on him, and make a break for it, thus preventing any attempt to steal the Storm Sphere from me. That is, if I could understand how to use it in the first place.

"So, run this by me again. How exactly am I supposed to use it?"

"Did you listen the first time? Bind your will to the object, then let it rip!"

I shook my head. If that wasn't telling it to zap things, then I don't know what it is.

"Alright, let's see if I can do this." Reluctantly, I held the orb out in front of me with both hands. Nice and steady... Now, focus on something. Like, that rain barrel--yeah, that'll do. Concentrate... Bind your will, or whatever he said. As strange as it sounds, I could feel the energy contained within the glass orb as I concentrated. I'm not sure exactly how, but in an instant, I released the energy inside the Storm Sphere at the rain barrel. It curved away from my intended target and slammed into the pile of garbage instead.

There were three shrieks--one from the magical orb as lightning flew from it, another from my mouth as some of that energy discharged into my arms. I'm not quite sure what the third one was. I immediately dropped the glass ball and took a few steps back from it as wave after wave of sharp, electrified pain traveled to my brain.

Once I regained control over my mouth, I screamed, "What the fuck just happened?" Just then another shriek cut though the air as a black cat half ran, half hobbled out from underneath the scattered garbage. A small patch of black fur was singed and smoking as it made its way past me, immediately making its escape out of the open end of the alley.

[Christoph]

“Ah! That poor kitty!” Chris exclaimed as the singed fur ball flew past him.

“That was you just telling it to zap something,” sighed Chris, fighting down the urge to burst out laughing.

“But that’s— ” she protested, but the chef cut her off.

“Hush and listen. You got zapped because you tried telling the sphere what to do,” Chris explained. “What you’ve got to do is bind it to you fist. You need to focus your own energy on the orb, lacing your life force to its magical energy.” Madison rolled her eyes.

“‘And become as one,’” she snorted. “You make it sound like all I have to do is have sex with the damn thing and it’ll do whatever I want.”

“Well, you’re free to try, but I’d imagine that you’d need to be a bit more drunk for that,” the chef replied with a chuckle. “Besides, that’ll only work if it’s a male storm sphere.”

“Yeah, probably,” said the pale girl in a more subdued voice, her sarcastic energy expended for at least a few seconds.

“All right, let’s try it a different way,” said the chef, straightening his posture. Strangely enough, acting as a teacher wasn’t as bad as he’d suspected. He closed his eyes and extended his arms in both directions to his sides, making a “T” shape. “Now, do as I’m doing and close your eyes.” Chris flicked his eyes open for a moment to see if she was following his instructions. To his sincere surprise, she was standing still, eyes closed and arms outstretched. He nodded to himself and closed his eyes once again.

“Good,” he continued, taking deep, slow breaths. “Start by slowing your breathing. In through your nose – count to three – and out through your mouth. Basic meditative breathing; I’m sure that someone with your talents has plenty of experience with it. Clear your mind.” He gave the two of them several moments to get into the proper state before continuing.

“Now comes the important part; start by focusing on your toe,” instructed Chris. Madison answered with a soft grunt of confusion.

“My toe?” she asked, bewildered. “Which toe?”

“It doesn’t matter. Pick one that you like and don’t lose that focus, got it?”

Madison sighed. “Fine.”

“Now, expand your focus to the toes next to it, and to your entire foot, and then to both feet. Don’t shift your awareness and focus, though. Simply expand it.” Chris paused his instruction as a tingle passed up his legs and spine. “Keep expanding your focus, up your legs and to your waist. Take your time, maintaining your awareness over every inch. Continue up your torso and midsection and chest. Surround your head with awareness before extending it to your arms. Keep your breathing steady.”

“All right,” she replied.

“Okay, this is the most important part,” he continued. “Expand your focus through your arms, mentally connecting them with the rest of your body. Reach for the Storm Sphere with your mind, but don’t think of it as an object. Now, it is nothing more than an extension of your hand. Instead of glass, it is flesh and bone. Its energy is your energy; your energy is its energy.” He went silent for several seconds, reaching out for the girl with his own heightened magical awareness. There was definitely a change now. Good.

“All right, open your eyes, channel that energy, and zap that garbage can!”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

"Alright, let's give this a shot." I was hesitant to pick up the glass orb that sat at my feet. The raging storm was a little less raging this time around--the intensity of the swirling clouds and flashing lightning must be a sign of how much power the stupid orb has at the moment.

The memory of the shock a minute ago made me pause mere inches from picking up the Storm Sphere. There's no way I wanted to deal with that again. But, there was a nagging thought in the back of my mind that the shock I received was a fluke; something that probably wouldn't happen again now that I was told how to properly use this thing.

The same thought also told me that the chef withheld some details from his initial instruction to see me get hurt. That fucker.

I held the sphere in front of me, just like I was told to. I clenched my eyes shut in preparation for whatever pain was going to come as I discharged another blast of electrified energy. The orb screeched again as a small arc of lighting passed out of it and exploded into the rain barrel, sending it back a few feet and tipping it over. I was surprised to discover that nothing happened to me this time.

I beamed inwardly, but refused to show the joy of actually doing it right on my face. "Alright, one more time, I think I got the hang of it now."

Arms up, orb out, channel energy... Screech!

"What the fuck!" I screamed as the lighting bolt doubled back and hit me in the thigh. I dropped the Storm Sphere again and clutched my burning leg. I looked at Christoph with an expression that promised him a thousand years of pain.

[Christoph]

“Yikes!” exclaimed Chris, jumping backwards just as much to avoid the irate Madison as to stay clear of the arcing jolt. He cringed; if the girl glared at him any harder, he was convinced that he’d burst into flames. “Hey, listen, that can happen. You’re still new at this, so that’ll happen now and again until you get the hang of it. You’re doing well, though.” Madison grumbled but didn’t make any moves to try and murder him yet.

“Fine, let’s try again,” she replied, raising the sphere. Chris stopped her, pushing her arm back down. Madison swatted his hand. “Hey!”

“Actually, the orb seems to be out of energy,” the chef explained, pointing to object, which was now just clear, empty glass.

The pale girl groaned. “How do I charge it back up, then?”

“Well, if I had to venture a guess from my experience, I’d say that you’d probably need to charge it in a thunderstorm.” The raven-haired girl’s eyes went wide.

“A fucking thunderstorm?” she growled, taking a step toward the recoiling chef. “So the only way I can use this damn thing again is if I go get myself fried like a baby bird?”

Chris cringed. “That was… graphic,” he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s not as dangerous as all that, though, if you know what you’re doing.”

“Because I totally know what I’m doing, asshole,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. The former gladiator gave a long, frustrated sigh.

“That is why I teach you how to do it without getting electrocuted.”

“Well, you’re off to a great start, teach!” she replied, glaring even harder. Chris had had enough. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, glaring back at her with fiery eyes. Taking a step forward, he was pleased when she retreated slightly before regaining her poise. “That’s it! We’re getting drunk now!” He sighed harder.

“Fine!”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

We spent the next twenty minutes in silence as I led him around the twilit streets of Radasanth, looking for a halfway decent tavern. Occasionally, I caught the chef glancing at my leather satchel, but when he saw that I was looking, he quickly turned his gaze somewheres else. After the fourth time, I moved my satchel to my other side, away from him.

That, and the bastard sighed a lot. I was this close to tearing out his esophagus so I wouldn't have to hear him go hrrrm every few minutes.

The sun was beginning to set over the buildings of the great city by the time we got to a little place called The Dead Skunk Pub. Terrible thing to call a bar, but rumor had it that the old man who build the place was hopped up on some pretty nasty stuff when he drafted and filed the papers with the city government to make the place official. The name is quite deceiving: The bar inside is actually one of the better ones I've been to in Radasanth. I couldn't give two shits about the ale, but the mixed drinks were very good.

Even as we stood fifty feet from the heavy oak door to the pub, I could hear the noise coming from within. The patrons were awfully rowdy tonight--just like they always were. Tonight was going to be fun, as long as Chris came through with his earlier promise to pay for my drinks.

I beamed inwardly at the notion. Little did he know how much alcohol I could put away before even feeling anything. Let's hope he has some pretty deep pockets.

It was terribly packed inside the tavern. A variety of people crammed the small, brightly lit pub. The three barmaids moved behind the bar, grabbing and pouring drinks for thirsty customers while several more circulated through the main floor with clockwork efficiency. I scanned the room, anxiously looking for a place to sit and relax. After what seemed like an eternity, I found two empty seat near the middle of the room.

"Come on," I shouted at the chef, barely hearing myself over the din of the patrons. We snaked through the crowd, lightly pushing a few people out of our way as we did so. We sat down at the wooden table, and it was only a few seconds before one of the barmaids approached us. She was a thin creature with a rack that looked like it could poke a few eyes out. Her sandy hair was pulled back in a knot, and her pale face was littered with freckles. Her narrow, emerald green eyes met mine for a brief second before she turned her attention to the chef next to me.

"What can I get ya', hon?"

Chris looked back and forth between me and the barmaid before answering. "Shot of vodka, and keep 'em coming."

The barmaid swiftly turned on her heels and disappeared into the crowd. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and closing my eyes. It had been a long, hard day. Other than getting drunk and killing someone, there wasn't really any other way for me to relax. And considering I had already murdered Chris in cold blood in the Citadel (before falling to my own demise), this was my only other release. My thoughts slowly wandered away from the Storm Sphere and the chef.

I began trying to single out a relatively interesting conversation nearby when the light slamming of a couple glasses snapped me out of my little daydream. As soon as the barmaid had delivered our drinks, she was gone; becoming one with the crowd once more. Chris reached for his shot glass, and I reached behind me for one of my daggers. "Wait a second. Lemme' see your hand."

He cocked his head to one side. "Huh?"

"Give me your hand. I need a few drops of your blood in my drink." My nerves began to jump at the idea of tasting the chef's blood again.

Chris slowly withdrew his hand to his side, his boyish face crossed with confusion.

I sighed heavily--a Chris sigh, if you will. "Look, the taste of blood calms my nerves a bit, and I think it's the least you can do after letting me get shocked by that damn object twice." The chef thought about it for a few seconds, then relented, surrendering his hand to me. I quickly removed one of my daggers from its sheathe, carefully slicing open the tip of his forefinger and squeezing a few drops of blood into my drink. "Besides," I said to him, "what's the point of calling it a Bloody Mary if there isn't any blood in it?"

[Christoph]

“You’re creepy, you know that?” asked Chris, withdrawing his hand with an unsettled expression on his face. He sighed, downing his vodka in one shot. “Just remember, the first taste is free. The rest are going to cost you.” The chef yawned and leaned back into his chair. He was still uncertain of why he hadn’t just taken off. What good could possibly come from staying in the company of an emotionally unstable blood-drinker? He didn’t have the slightest clue about who she was or what she did.

“So, what brought you out to Radisanth in the first place?”

* * * * *

As the new mismatched new acquaintances talked, another odd pair of youths stood behind the bar, talking amongst each other. One was tall and pale, with a greasy sneer plastered on his face, and blond hair oilier than a tub of butter. The second was short and fat with a patch of brown hair doing little to cover his bald spot, and a face that was homelier than the first guy's.

“God damn it, James, this job sucks,” said the taller one, slouching lazily against the counter. “You told me that I’d be able to score with fly honeys if I worked at this dump. ‘Chicks dig bartenders.’ And, fuck, here I am, serving drinks to fat farmers with pimply asses, and not a babe in sight.” He paused for a moment before shouting “FUCK!” again in frustration.

“Be patient, Timothy!” replied the fat one, scratching his bald spot. “We haven’t even been here a day yet. The girls will come soon enough.” Timothy groaned.

“But I’m horny now!” he exclaimed, causing his friend to double-take and blink.

“Dude, did you just whine?”

“NO!” he shouted, pausing for a moment. “Fuck you!” At that moment, James held up a finger.

“Chill, dude, customer is coming,” said the balding bartender. The customer was a large bald man in a brown tunic and a leather blacksmithing apron. “Quick, customer-service plan Alpha-Green!” Timothy nodded, grinning slyly.

“Give me an ale!” the customer ordered in a voice that boomed despite the weariness laced in it.

“Would you like to add extra froth to that ale for fifteen silver?” asked the blonde bartender.

“Er… what?” asked the bewildered blacksmith. “I-”

“Very good, extra froth it is,” interrupted Timothy. “And I’ll assume that you’d also like an extra-large bowl of our beef stew.”

“No! I just wanted the—”

“Excellent! Your total comes to 75 silver pieces.”

“Please pull ahead to your next window,” James interjected, only to be elbowed in the ribs by his friend. “Ow! Hey!”

“For the last fucking time, James, not only are there so such things as alternate realities, we didn’t come from one even if there was!” The blond youth grumbled. “God, you’re such a queer bag! Fucking bald geek, anyway.”

“Hey! I’m NOT BALD!” James shouted. By that time, the blacksmith had fled the bar, grumbled about ‘stupid foreign kids.’ “Great job asshole, you scared away our customer.” Timothy shrugged.

“Who cares? He’d have just given us a bad tip anyway. Consider this a preemptive strike. We got him befo—wait!” The blonde bartender sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

[Lye]

BaBE:


623 XP
55 GP


Stoph:


770 XP
55 GP

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!