Closing Time (Bar Fight Thread – Open to All!)

[Yvonne]

Distraction diverted Yvonne’s lustrous silver eyes for too long a moment and a mango she’d previously thrown came back to ding her on the saucepan helm, splattering violently into a juicy, sticky and stringy mess. The impact rocked her onto her heels, circular flailing arms all that kept her footing upon the bar counter. Recovered, she ducked her head from a tomato as more patrons caught on to the food volley - some of the food not breaking on impact and reused counter-offensively.

Yvonne scampered along the counter top, her feet avoiding mugs and hands and-- oh me gosh! Leaping off the bar as a heavy-set minotaur slammed horns first into the stools and wood, thrashing its head about, the little one flew through splinters and bar-shrapnel as she ran for her life. Someone couldn’t take a joke, yeesh! What’s a tomato-splodge between friends?

The drow-dwarf delinquent hurried under the closest table to confuse the lumbering goliath. On all fours she skittered across the floor as hastily as she could, passing through tablecloths. Just as she’d escaped to the other side of the material the minotaur slammed its club-like fists down on the table above, pounding it into pieces without effort. As the aggressor picked through the broken shell of the former table, looking for a black and red smudge beneath, Yvy crept under the next table-shelter as soon as she could.

Fenn! Good grief, fancy meeting ye here!

She whispered with overwhelming emphasis, “Mister Wenn, no time! Flee! Scary cow-man!” The warning was the least she could do for the frost-puck before she abandoned the position herself altogether, slipping through yet another table cloth.

Poking her head up to scout her surroundings she watched a shiny metal golem thump and fry a much larger orc opponent, beating and sizzling the brute in swift succession. She had no idea who controlled the golem or what its purpose was, but one thing she knew for sure! It would be a whole lot safer behind that shiny golem. It knew how to defend itself, obviously!

The minotaur raged in frustration when it couldn’t find Yvonne’s pulverized remains, raising up and mooing in fierce aggravation. Beady eyes noticed the little hybrid scurrying through the tavern, using all the cover she could, but such trickery could only be so effective. The lumbering beast threw Fenn’s table aside like a toy it no longer found interest in. Its legs stepped over the fae’s little huddled form and its hoof crunched down on the weakening floorboards behind him. Somehow he’d survived the passage of the minotaur unscathed but fully exposed.

Yvonne bee-lined for her saviour, the technologically advanced golem, quickly ducking behind it in its hiding place.

“Hello there! A pleasure ta meet ye! Sorry about that dangerous bull creature charging right for us!” she greeted cheerfully.