"Yew Listenin', Nachi?," the sell-sword roared at the despondent storyteller, his face turning a deep, flushed purple," I said I'm gonna kick yer teeth in, you cheatin' sonuva bitch!". Fibonacchi sat there, his glazed eyes wandering the crowd as he contemplated his inevitable demise. Slowly Mugov rose to his full height, and allowing the table to regain its balance. Jabbing a meaty finger at the peddler, the mercenary's pot belly quivered with movement," I'll see yew out in da alley, make sure to drink up, Nachi', yer gonna need the liquid courage!". With that Fibonacchi watched death slowly walk to the door, the crowd muttering to themselves as Mugov slapped the swinging saloon doors out of bitter rage.
Without warning the storyteller jumped to his feet, his hand sweeping over his corner of the table," Mugov, get back in here!" he hollered. Slowly, burning plush coals gazed from the other side of the saloon doors as the teal-coated trickster licked his lips," Cut of the deck, Mugov. Highest card wins."
Pushing the swinging doors cockily, the mercenary raised an eyebrow and strutted back into the room, grabbing his sweat-stained suspenders with a grin on his face," What are ya' willin' to wager, Nachi'?".
Casting his hand in the direction of the remaining plunder that had not been knocked onto the floor and pilfered by the hungry throng," All of it. Every last cent that I have," Fibonacchi smiled. His eyes glimmering with desperation.
Shaking his head, Mugov smiled, his puffy cheeks raising over his treacherous eyes," Ain't good enough, yew gotta sweeten the pot if ya' want me back to da table," the mercenary growled.
Holding his beloved wedding ring in his left hand and the copper chained watch in the other, the storyteller's gray-stained eyes danced," These too. Every last cent, Mugov. No tricks."
Smacking his porkish lips together, the sell-sword ambled slowly towards his hated enemy and stopped. He stood a head or two taller then the storyteller. Looking down on him, Mugov grazed the tip of the peddler's chin with his jagged knife," Still ain't good enough. I don't want yer damn money, I never did!".
Not blinking, Fibonacchi glared at his rival with a fire kindled anew," Alright then, Mugov, cut to the chase and tell me what it is exactly you want from me." The tension had begun to mount as the pair's fixed gaze was static with extreme prejudice. It had seemed like an eternity before the mercenary spoke.
"I want nothin' from you Nachi'. I've already got it," Mugov jutted a thumb to the doors to the pub and jeered," Once yew cross those doors, yer mine. No weaseling out of it, no where to run, and no where to hide. So quit yer grovelin', grow a pair, and step outside like a real man."
Dumbfounded, Fibonacchi was at a loss for words, his mind swimming in search for an answer. But, as the sell-sword lowered his wavering blade and started to turn away, the peddler laughed," What if I bet my life on this, Mugov? What would you do then?".
Freezing in place, the stunned mercenary slowly turning his head, his double chin wobbling as he considered the storyteller for a moment. Turning away, Mugov began to walk again," No way that'd happen. No one would be stupid enough to bet their life on a cut of the cards! Only a desperate, reckless fool with nothing left to lose would throw his life away!". The sell-sword's cuffed boots was the only sound in the room as he sauntered further away," Now com'n out and take yer lumps!".
Fibonacchi licked his parched lips once more, glowering in desperation," I am that desperate, reckless fool." like a broken record stuck on play, the sell-sword stopped again, turned and stormed up to the peddler his face a burning red as he dug his blade under his victim's bearded chin.
" I ain't fallin' fer your tricks again, Nachi'. I know what yer plannin' and it ain't gonna work. Now stop wastin' my time, before yew make me forget we're in a public place!" Mugov roared.
It felt like a play to the crowd as Fibonacchi stared dangerously into the mercenary's eyes. Pushing the blade away from his face, the storyteller stammered," L-look at this way, Mugov. You've already got me, but heres the thing. This pub is full of witnesses, and if I were to some how disappear, you would be rotting in a Coronian prison cell by the end of the month. I'm sure you've had your fair share of run-ins with the law, but I think you already know what Corone's government facilities can be like with the right conviction," Not letting the mercenary counter, Fibonacchi continued to speak in his sing-song, lulling voice," But! If I was willing to wager my life, in front of all these witnesses to a cut of a deck and I lost.. well.. it would be yours for the taking. Legal and all." Watching the mercenary turn the perverbial rock down the hill in his head, Fibonacchi watched with a keen, trained eye only one of his profession could develop. The crowd murmured loudly as they witnessed one man trying to bet his life on a mere cut of the cards.
Having mulled it over, the mercenary raised a wary eyebrow," No tricks?".
Swelling with pride the peddler feigned innocence," Why I'm hurt, Mugov. What do you take me for?!" But seeing his sarcasm lost upon the fat, portly sell-sword, Fibonacchi rolled his eyes and repeated," One cut of the deck. Highest card wins. No tricks."
Shoving his knife back in his belt, the mercenary plucked a cigar from his shirt pocket and pushed it into his fat lips, his tanned skin glistening in sweat as he jeered," Y'know, Nachi', I under estimated ya'. Yew are one crazy bastard".
Given the circumstances, Fibonacchi would've walked away when the card game was his. But knowing his life was on the line either way, he wanted at least a fighting chance. Cautiously extending his hand, the peddler's voice grew quiet," As a fox. Now do we have a deal?"
The mercenary looked about the sea of faces, their expressions varying from indifference to jittery. Catching the thin, pale hand in his meaty grasp Mugov nodded," We have a deal." But as the storyteller attempted to walk away, the mercenary held him fast," One last thing though. Yew ain't shufflin'."
In quiet alarm the storyteller nodded hesitantly and eyed his chubby pact-maker," Fine. But you aren't either". Nodding to each other in agreement the crowd released their pent up breath, the tension cut and the wager set. It took everything Fibonacchi had, but at the cut of a deck, he was going to see victory one way or another.
Submit Thread for Judgment