Andras was surrounded by unshaven, poor, useless, ignorant, savage Titers, in one of the lowest class, sketchiest, dirtiest bars they could find because Paragon didn’t want to risk him showing his face anywhere cleaner. He really felt like he deserved this next drink.
He had lost count of how many he’d taken, or for that matter, what he’d had. For all he knew, the last three mugs could have been alcoholic horse piss. Esclavio, Andras’ #2 in the gang and a professional ass-kisser, had apparently been feeling ballsy now that they had successfully ganged up on some foreign merc from Ciasse. The Ciassite had thought he was hot stuff. Now he could... think he... was... cold stuff. From the inside of his new cage!
Andras snorted. What did you want from him, a comedy show? He was drunk!
Still, speaking of ballsy idiots, Esclavio was snoring at the bar now that he was on his... bah. Andras didn’t remember how many drinks he’d had either. The point was, Andras was awake and he was snoring, which counted as a victory in his book. With a brutish shout and a mug held high, he shoved Esclavio off his stool. The poor fellow tumbled to the ground, his arm roughly smacking into the wooden floorboards, as the rest of the gang jeered at him, raising their own glasses in a toast to Andras’ victory. The Oslun suspected they also liked seeing Esclavio’s face hit the floor. It was time to teach them a lesson.
His gaze swung down the tabletop. There we were. Some shit was sitting at the end of the bar who didn’t belong. It didn’t matter to him that they might have been sitting there before the gang came in, he was hogging space vital to his little family’s happy co-existence. The selfish prick.
Andras swung around in his seat before rising out to stand. His posture was hunched and mean, showing off his not unimpressive build. Some of the gang caught on immediately, and quieted. Others just kept drinking.
With a purposeful stride not greatly influenced by the dubious quantity of alcohol in his system, he marched over to the bar’s end. Towering over the sitting figure, he pulled out his knife and rammed it into the table besides the fellow. This was a fight between gentlemen, after all. He let the weapon go and slammed open palm into the tabletop. He wore an evil little grin on his face and nearly snarled.
“Hey!” He shouted into the man’s ear. “Do me a fucking favor and don’t hold back.” Not his best line, but what did you want from him. He was drunk. Without further buildup, he drew back his fist and swung with all his might, sending his fist soaring right for the other man’s head.
The World's Greatest Barfight
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Drayel remained silent the entire time the idiot drank. Tonight was his night off and he'd planned on being at lease semi-peaceful. He sat at the end of the bar, hovering over his mug without much thought to the scraggly idiots not far away. That is, until the larger one whom he labeled the 'leader' began swaggering in his general area.
When the knife slammed into the counter, the palm soon following, Drayel knew he was in for something. He had expected a threat of some kind, a warning to say he least. Not some half slurred bumble and a fist that sent him crashing to the floor. He bellowed as pain shot through his scarred shoulder and made him head swim for a moment. Or perhaps it was that damned hit that made his brain reel. Either way, he was pissed.
"What in the hell was that?" Drayel roared as he got to his feet with a growl, straightening his aching back as he sized up the stocky male. "I did nothing to you, you stupid fool! What in the damned was that for?!"
He wasn't going to beat the man just yet. He was drunk after all. Though, looking around now he began to notice the rather ratty looks about these people. Wary eyes, battle ridden, dirty. He allowed his glowering eyes to search over the crowd once more before allowing it to return to the drunken man. One way or another, he braced himself for a fight. He wasn't going to go down easy.
When the knife slammed into the counter, the palm soon following, Drayel knew he was in for something. He had expected a threat of some kind, a warning to say he least. Not some half slurred bumble and a fist that sent him crashing to the floor. He bellowed as pain shot through his scarred shoulder and made him head swim for a moment. Or perhaps it was that damned hit that made his brain reel. Either way, he was pissed.
"What in the hell was that?" Drayel roared as he got to his feet with a growl, straightening his aching back as he sized up the stocky male. "I did nothing to you, you stupid fool! What in the damned was that for?!"
He wasn't going to beat the man just yet. He was drunk after all. Though, looking around now he began to notice the rather ratty looks about these people. Wary eyes, battle ridden, dirty. He allowed his glowering eyes to search over the crowd once more before allowing it to return to the drunken man. One way or another, he braced himself for a fight. He wasn't going to go down easy.
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Andras grinned as the big man roared. This one was a fighter after all. He had been a bit worried when the big old clown toppled to the floor. Wouldn’t he have looked the fool had he just punched a bulky farmer’s lights out? Andras’ sick smile grew as he stared at the recovering guard with bloodshot eyes.
“Well. You sat at MY bar. You had THAT ugly face," He pointed a finger at the dead man to make his point clear, "and worst of all...” Andras’ nose turned skywards as he thrust his hands out and up to the ceiling. Like an exceptionally inebriated prophet, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “You're still breathing!”
He thought it was a pretty good line. For being drunk. The gang agreed, and burst into rancorous applause from the bar. The hateful sounds filled the room like the evening’s entertainment, if the musicians were all on copiax mixed with rum. Not that this tasteless place had any musicians. Andras’ grin grew lopsided. Oh, how he was going enjoy to taking it out on this fucker.
He hunkered down and grabbed a stool. With one hand he lifted it and flung it at the big man. The arm was quickly retracted as Andras turned the motion into the start of a dead sprint. Like a dog playing fetch with itself, he shot after his improvised missile. Being a man as strong as Andras meant that he had the speed to back up his power. With his right shoulder bared, he caught his right hand in his left palm and braced for impact. He intended nothing less than to ram the fellow right through this shithole’s cheap, rotting wall.
“Well. You sat at MY bar. You had THAT ugly face," He pointed a finger at the dead man to make his point clear, "and worst of all...” Andras’ nose turned skywards as he thrust his hands out and up to the ceiling. Like an exceptionally inebriated prophet, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “You're still breathing!”
He thought it was a pretty good line. For being drunk. The gang agreed, and burst into rancorous applause from the bar. The hateful sounds filled the room like the evening’s entertainment, if the musicians were all on copiax mixed with rum. Not that this tasteless place had any musicians. Andras’ grin grew lopsided. Oh, how he was going enjoy to taking it out on this fucker.
He hunkered down and grabbed a stool. With one hand he lifted it and flung it at the big man. The arm was quickly retracted as Andras turned the motion into the start of a dead sprint. Like a dog playing fetch with itself, he shot after his improvised missile. Being a man as strong as Andras meant that he had the speed to back up his power. With his right shoulder bared, he caught his right hand in his left palm and braced for impact. He intended nothing less than to ram the fellow right through this shithole’s cheap, rotting wall.
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
To put it simply, Drayel accidentally pulled a dirty move. Any sort of conduct that demanded honor went out the window the second that brute tried to throw a stool at him. He'd managed to dodge the stool but simply ducking down to avoid it. In fact he'd crouched to the floor in an attempt to see past it yet to his surprise he met the sight of oncoming boots. He was unable to dodge by then, he knew that by instinct. So instead, he braced himself.
Boots collided with his collarbone, causing him to yelp in pain and surprise, his top half lifting a good foot off the floor while his feet remained unmoving on the floor. For a second, he'd thought he was going to break something but to his relief the pressure left and a loud thump hit the floor behind him. Turning to face the other man, he growled.
"Quite the dirty moves you play." He spat with distaste as he forced himself to stand again though not before he made sure to have distance between them. "If I didn't know any better I'd of said you were a whining boy trying to win a school fight. My son has better chance of defeating me than you, buffoon."
Boots collided with his collarbone, causing him to yelp in pain and surprise, his top half lifting a good foot off the floor while his feet remained unmoving on the floor. For a second, he'd thought he was going to break something but to his relief the pressure left and a loud thump hit the floor behind him. Turning to face the other man, he growled.
"Quite the dirty moves you play." He spat with distaste as he forced himself to stand again though not before he made sure to have distance between them. "If I didn't know any better I'd of said you were a whining boy trying to win a school fight. My son has better chance of defeating me than you, buffoon."
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Andras toppled over and rolled across the floor before crashing to a halt against the wall. He supposed he had to count himself lucky that it wasn’t collapsing on him. He hadn’t been joking about the rot, and he was pretty certain his face had landed in some sort of moldy, moss stuff.
He wasn’t facing the big man, but he could fix that. His tumble had turned into a roll and he was hardly even scraped. It took Andras a moment to realize his gang had gone quiet. They weren’t used to seeing him take falls in this sort of situation. Normally the drunks he picked fights with just looked tough. “You fucking whelps!” He shouted, rolling into a crouched stance. “I ‘aint finished yet.”
As Andras started standing, his rival kept flapping his gums. And not only did the bastard go and insult his fighting, he compared him to a child. “You know, you big, stupid fucker.” Andras started raising himself back to a standing position, wiping the bar’s filth from his chin. He had a peaceful expression on his face like he was walking through a serene garden. “I got into a lot of fights as a kid. And you know? I never did to them what I’m gonna do to your little bitch of a son.”
Andras let that one sink in for a moment. The instant he saw it dawn on the other fellow’s face, Andras let his own display a wicked grin. With a feral howl, he launched himself towards his rival anew. he leapt forwards with a good right hook. He felt a satisfying connection to the asshole’s jaw. When he bent from the blow, Andras pivoted his hips and brought his other hand sailing around, this one an open palm, intending to catch his reeling opponent and strangle him on the bar’s tabletop.
“You ever heard how much they offer to buy kids for on the market, big man? A pretty bishan, I tell you!” He broke out into laughter, clearly having the time of his life.
He wasn’t facing the big man, but he could fix that. His tumble had turned into a roll and he was hardly even scraped. It took Andras a moment to realize his gang had gone quiet. They weren’t used to seeing him take falls in this sort of situation. Normally the drunks he picked fights with just looked tough. “You fucking whelps!” He shouted, rolling into a crouched stance. “I ‘aint finished yet.”
As Andras started standing, his rival kept flapping his gums. And not only did the bastard go and insult his fighting, he compared him to a child. “You know, you big, stupid fucker.” Andras started raising himself back to a standing position, wiping the bar’s filth from his chin. He had a peaceful expression on his face like he was walking through a serene garden. “I got into a lot of fights as a kid. And you know? I never did to them what I’m gonna do to your little bitch of a son.”
Andras let that one sink in for a moment. The instant he saw it dawn on the other fellow’s face, Andras let his own display a wicked grin. With a feral howl, he launched himself towards his rival anew. he leapt forwards with a good right hook. He felt a satisfying connection to the asshole’s jaw. When he bent from the blow, Andras pivoted his hips and brought his other hand sailing around, this one an open palm, intending to catch his reeling opponent and strangle him on the bar’s tabletop.
“You ever heard how much they offer to buy kids for on the market, big man? A pretty bishan, I tell you!” He broke out into laughter, clearly having the time of his life.
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Drayel felt his face pale at the mention of his son, his entire body stiffening as he felt hands wrap around his throat and his airway squeeze. Instinctively he grabbed hold of the other man's wrists, eyes widening and teeth grinding as he struggled to release the man's grip from his throat. Still however his panicking mind went to his son, flashing pictures of the boy's now possible fate. No, he wouldn't let it.
Determination and protective rage fueled his strength. The brute above him was strong but he was determined, his son now in danger from now a drunken fool. Bit by bit he forced the man to let go of his throat, far enough that he began to breath easier and with what little luck he still had, smashed his forehead into the other mans nose.
He was to blame for bringing Jackal into danger, and damned if he was going to fix this. He snarled darkly at the fellow, his face twisting in a way that it hadn't since he adopted his boy. A full twisted expression of rage and bloodlust. He was going to protect what family he had left, even if it meant breaking a couple bones. Huffing out a breath he raised his fists with a hateful growl, awaiting the next move.
Determination and protective rage fueled his strength. The brute above him was strong but he was determined, his son now in danger from now a drunken fool. Bit by bit he forced the man to let go of his throat, far enough that he began to breath easier and with what little luck he still had, smashed his forehead into the other mans nose.
He was to blame for bringing Jackal into danger, and damned if he was going to fix this. He snarled darkly at the fellow, his face twisting in a way that it hadn't since he adopted his boy. A full twisted expression of rage and bloodlust. He was going to protect what family he had left, even if it meant breaking a couple bones. Huffing out a breath he raised his fists with a hateful growl, awaiting the next move.
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Andras, with his hands around his opponent’s neck, could feel the rapid heart rate and struggle for breath. He liked it and read it, and it warned him just a little too late that a surge of adrenaline had rushed through his opponent. Next thing he knew, Drayel’s hands were on his wrists, slowly forcing them back. Farther, farther, until Andras’ eyes and mouth were wide with shock.
His opponent launched himself forwards and their foreheads connected. Andras staggered backwards a couple steps before crashing into a table. Both he and the furniture were rocked a short distance further, knocking over the mugs of the unfortunate sods at the table. It seemed they were the one thing that wasn’t cheap, as he heard nothing shatter. He would be spared glass shards in his head then, though as a cold liquid rushed over them, he knew the same could not be said for ale stains.
The useless table bent and groaned. Even through the dizziness, Andras could hear enough that he was genuinely concerned it would stop supporting his weight at any moment. He propped himself up with an elbow before quickly leaning forwards to support his weight on his own two feet. He heard movement behind him. Apparently the man behind him was none too happy.
“You idiots deal with this lout.” He turned to look at his gang, not sparing the newcomer a glance. A few hopped off the chairs and pulled up fists, but many stared at him blankly. They weren’t used to seeing him take a beating like this. “This one is mine.”
His louts hopped over the table behind him, and Andras spared the ensuing struggle his mighty presence. There was only one idiot he had eyes for. He looked back at the bar, and saw hate and fire in the other man’s eyes. “Now you’re talking.” He whispered to himself, glad his taunts had taken such effect. Andras twitched his lips, rolled his shoulders and brought his fists up, advancing with caution. A drunken war zone was erupting behind him.
Guarding his mirthful face with fists ready to strike, Andras charged, intending to get right to a good old punch up.
His opponent launched himself forwards and their foreheads connected. Andras staggered backwards a couple steps before crashing into a table. Both he and the furniture were rocked a short distance further, knocking over the mugs of the unfortunate sods at the table. It seemed they were the one thing that wasn’t cheap, as he heard nothing shatter. He would be spared glass shards in his head then, though as a cold liquid rushed over them, he knew the same could not be said for ale stains.
The useless table bent and groaned. Even through the dizziness, Andras could hear enough that he was genuinely concerned it would stop supporting his weight at any moment. He propped himself up with an elbow before quickly leaning forwards to support his weight on his own two feet. He heard movement behind him. Apparently the man behind him was none too happy.
“You idiots deal with this lout.” He turned to look at his gang, not sparing the newcomer a glance. A few hopped off the chairs and pulled up fists, but many stared at him blankly. They weren’t used to seeing him take a beating like this. “This one is mine.”
His louts hopped over the table behind him, and Andras spared the ensuing struggle his mighty presence. There was only one idiot he had eyes for. He looked back at the bar, and saw hate and fire in the other man’s eyes. “Now you’re talking.” He whispered to himself, glad his taunts had taken such effect. Andras twitched his lips, rolled his shoulders and brought his fists up, advancing with caution. A drunken war zone was erupting behind him.
Guarding his mirthful face with fists ready to strike, Andras charged, intending to get right to a good old punch up.
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KoriStronghammer
- Citizen
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Wed Jul 28, 2010 7:27 am
- Name: Kori Stronghammer
- Race: HumanNorthernman
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Kori was largely trying to ignore the bar right happening around him. After all, he had just killed someone. And as far as he was concerned, this kill required quiet reflection. Which was fueled by massive quantities of alcohol. So he had sat at his chair, as immovable as the mountains, and island of calm and alcohol fumes amongst a raging sea of fists and broken glass. And then they bumped his table. Which usually wouldn't be too much of a problem, it happened often in bars after all. But they bumped his table, which in turn hit him, making him drop his glass and spill his drink.
That was a problem. He rose to hit feet, removing his shirt and folding it slowly before placing it on the seat he had just vacated. He didn't really care if it got dirty at this point, more that no one could grab onto it easily to hold him in place. That would be bad. He needed freedom to fight. He kept his leather bracers on, walking towards the man who had so ruined his night. But he wasn't meant to fight him apparently, as he sicked his goons on the tall barbarian. Now that he could deal with. With a smirk, he dove into the mass of men that were going to be coming for him, striking out with his fists and elbows.
There was nothing he didn't love as much as a good old fashioned dust up with a bunch of weak idiots like these men were bound to be.
That was a problem. He rose to hit feet, removing his shirt and folding it slowly before placing it on the seat he had just vacated. He didn't really care if it got dirty at this point, more that no one could grab onto it easily to hold him in place. That would be bad. He needed freedom to fight. He kept his leather bracers on, walking towards the man who had so ruined his night. But he wasn't meant to fight him apparently, as he sicked his goons on the tall barbarian. Now that he could deal with. With a smirk, he dove into the mass of men that were going to be coming for him, striking out with his fists and elbows.
There was nothing he didn't love as much as a good old fashioned dust up with a bunch of weak idiots like these men were bound to be.
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
For a moment, his focus was shifted onto the huge man that suddenly joined the brawl. Huge, heavy, and rather crazed with battle. If this man joined the fight, Drayel only hoped that he was sober enough to realize he and Drayel were on the same side. Still, he growled as he turned to glower at his charging opponent. Wait... charging?
A fist smashed into his cheek, rattling his skull and sending him crashing into the bar counter. His brain spun and for a second his sight blurred out, the bar disappearing and instead appearing what appeared to be some sort of dark room with a walkway lit white. Confused he felt himself look around, seeing soundlessly a crowd strangely dressed people all throwing their hands around and by all appearances cheering. Frowning he looked behind him, trying to understand the reason for such rowdy behaviour only to get an eyeful of a young woman's buttocks.
Horrified he could only gape as the scantly dressed woman promptly bent over, and began shaking her arse all the while licking what appeared to be a plastic wand in her hand. A horrific display as she twisted her face in a strange sneer that only added to he image that was beginning to burn his eyes.
As fast as it appeared, it vanished. He found himself gaping on the floor, staring in shock and horror up at the man who towered over him. Never before had he been so happy to see the mug of an attacker, but for this he'd of stopped fighting and hugged the man if he could. Yet, this man seemed to thrive on battle didn't he? Then a good battle ought to be enough.
Shaking his sore head, Drayel staggered to his feet and spat the blood out of his mouth. Then with a wild and rather mischievous grin he swung back at full force. Snorting like a boy in a rough house competition he barked out a laugh. "Careful. With a punch that could knock another to hell and back, we wouldn't want you to accidently punch yourself would we?"
A fist smashed into his cheek, rattling his skull and sending him crashing into the bar counter. His brain spun and for a second his sight blurred out, the bar disappearing and instead appearing what appeared to be some sort of dark room with a walkway lit white. Confused he felt himself look around, seeing soundlessly a crowd strangely dressed people all throwing their hands around and by all appearances cheering. Frowning he looked behind him, trying to understand the reason for such rowdy behaviour only to get an eyeful of a young woman's buttocks.
Horrified he could only gape as the scantly dressed woman promptly bent over, and began shaking her arse all the while licking what appeared to be a plastic wand in her hand. A horrific display as she twisted her face in a strange sneer that only added to he image that was beginning to burn his eyes.
As fast as it appeared, it vanished. He found himself gaping on the floor, staring in shock and horror up at the man who towered over him. Never before had he been so happy to see the mug of an attacker, but for this he'd of stopped fighting and hugged the man if he could. Yet, this man seemed to thrive on battle didn't he? Then a good battle ought to be enough.
Shaking his sore head, Drayel staggered to his feet and spat the blood out of his mouth. Then with a wild and rather mischievous grin he swung back at full force. Snorting like a boy in a rough house competition he barked out a laugh. "Careful. With a punch that could knock another to hell and back, we wouldn't want you to accidently punch yourself would we?"
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
His opponent’s blathering was almost enough to distract Andras. But almost wasn’t enough, and the incoming blow was turned aside with arm bar. Andras tried to grab for the man’s sleeve to pull Drayel in for a punch, but the big man was savvy enough in a fight to avoid his clumsy attempt.
Andras had left himself wide open, but an impact came from an entirely unexpected angle. He felt someone latch onto his back, and Andras teetered forwards with the sudden weight, crashing into his foe. Close together as they were, kicks and punches were no longer practical. Andras simply thrashed wildly, freeing himself and throwing his unseen opponent from his back.
Deciding it was time to reevaluate the situation, Andras hopped back in a defensive position. He nearly tripped over the fellow who he had thrown from his back; a person who Andras realized with some alarm was one of his own. His head craned upwards to look at the giant who he had sent his goons at. It seemed he had made short work of them, and thrown one at Andras. Teonidus, who used people as improvised missiles?
Andras backed up like a cornered lion, shuffling down the length of the bar. His head snapped between his two opponents. Raising a hateful eye in his direction, Andras wondered if the giant would accuse him alone.
Either way, the situation called for backup. “All right, louts! Up and at ‘em. We’re not holding back any longer!” At his cry, the whole gang was finally moved to action. Some of them, eager to look busy, grabbed for random, uninvolved drunks and started beat the shit out of them. The rest didn’t hesitate to arm themselves with whatever was available, from stools to mugs, being at least smart enough to realize how useless they were without their dirty tricks and numerical superiority. The two most rotten of the bunch even pulled out slim shivs.
Andras himself looked back for whatever was available. His knife was a bit far down the table, and such a thing was beneath Andras anyhow. He skipped over the usual assortment of mugs and bottles, looking for something more befitting his glory. When his eyes wandered up the wall a bit, he found his answer. There was a deer skull mounted on the wall above the assorted drinks.
Andras vaulted over the tabletop and landed savagely beside the terrified barkeep, who had long ago decided cowering behind the security of the bar was the best policy in such situations. Andras reached up for a bleached, white antler, preparing to snap it of. Why it wasn’t a head was beyond the ex-guard. Maybe the bloke was too poor to get it properly preserved, or had just found the decaying corpse on a stroll through the woods. The terrified buffoon certainly didn’t look the part of a hunter.
His weapon acquired, Andras flipped it so the side with less spikes was facing him. This was a proper barfight, after all, and blunt weapons were the way to go. Not because they were less likely to kill people, mind you. Andras knew what a load that was. No, some days he just liked beating people over the head with a hard, heavy object.
Before he got back in the action, Andras decided not to let all of these good mugs go to waste. With his free hand, he started throwing them at Kori to give his idiots backup. When all the mugs in arm’s reach had been successfully launched, he gave the innkeeper a final snarl to keep him placid before vaulting back into the action, deer antler brandished forwards. He really hoped this thing wouldn’t crumple to dust as soon as he hit someone. It felt solid.
Andras had left himself wide open, but an impact came from an entirely unexpected angle. He felt someone latch onto his back, and Andras teetered forwards with the sudden weight, crashing into his foe. Close together as they were, kicks and punches were no longer practical. Andras simply thrashed wildly, freeing himself and throwing his unseen opponent from his back.
Deciding it was time to reevaluate the situation, Andras hopped back in a defensive position. He nearly tripped over the fellow who he had thrown from his back; a person who Andras realized with some alarm was one of his own. His head craned upwards to look at the giant who he had sent his goons at. It seemed he had made short work of them, and thrown one at Andras. Teonidus, who used people as improvised missiles?
Andras backed up like a cornered lion, shuffling down the length of the bar. His head snapped between his two opponents. Raising a hateful eye in his direction, Andras wondered if the giant would accuse him alone.
Either way, the situation called for backup. “All right, louts! Up and at ‘em. We’re not holding back any longer!” At his cry, the whole gang was finally moved to action. Some of them, eager to look busy, grabbed for random, uninvolved drunks and started beat the shit out of them. The rest didn’t hesitate to arm themselves with whatever was available, from stools to mugs, being at least smart enough to realize how useless they were without their dirty tricks and numerical superiority. The two most rotten of the bunch even pulled out slim shivs.
Andras himself looked back for whatever was available. His knife was a bit far down the table, and such a thing was beneath Andras anyhow. He skipped over the usual assortment of mugs and bottles, looking for something more befitting his glory. When his eyes wandered up the wall a bit, he found his answer. There was a deer skull mounted on the wall above the assorted drinks.
Andras vaulted over the tabletop and landed savagely beside the terrified barkeep, who had long ago decided cowering behind the security of the bar was the best policy in such situations. Andras reached up for a bleached, white antler, preparing to snap it of. Why it wasn’t a head was beyond the ex-guard. Maybe the bloke was too poor to get it properly preserved, or had just found the decaying corpse on a stroll through the woods. The terrified buffoon certainly didn’t look the part of a hunter.
His weapon acquired, Andras flipped it so the side with less spikes was facing him. This was a proper barfight, after all, and blunt weapons were the way to go. Not because they were less likely to kill people, mind you. Andras knew what a load that was. No, some days he just liked beating people over the head with a hard, heavy object.
Before he got back in the action, Andras decided not to let all of these good mugs go to waste. With his free hand, he started throwing them at Kori to give his idiots backup. When all the mugs in arm’s reach had been successfully launched, he gave the innkeeper a final snarl to keep him placid before vaulting back into the action, deer antler brandished forwards. He really hoped this thing wouldn’t crumple to dust as soon as he hit someone. It felt solid.
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KoriStronghammer
- Citizen
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Wed Jul 28, 2010 7:27 am
- Name: Kori Stronghammer
- Race: HumanNorthernman
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Kori didn't even stop to talk to the other man who had said something to him, instead just throwing another punch in the general direction. The other man had said something again, he must be the leader, and the entire bar broke out into a battle. With a roar of rage, he grabbed a chair and picked it up. With a swing of it, he watched with satisfaction as it hit one of the newcomers to the brawl across the back.
He waded through the people, going for the man that seemed to be calling the shots. He had caused all of this, spilling Kori's drink, making the others try to hit him, and Kori was about tired of it. Such a small and weak man to be starting a fight. He swung his chair around like a great club until it broke, leaving him with nothing but two chair legs. Which actually worked better.
Now he could hit both of the idiots.
He waded through the people, going for the man that seemed to be calling the shots. He had caused all of this, spilling Kori's drink, making the others try to hit him, and Kori was about tired of it. Such a small and weak man to be starting a fight. He swung his chair around like a great club until it broke, leaving him with nothing but two chair legs. Which actually worked better.
Now he could hit both of the idiots.
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Apparently Drayel wasn' t lucky today. His back was turned to the large man who apparently began using men as missiles. Startled he wasn't really and sure which way to look. On one side, the large man seemed huge and was able to throw men and chairs alike as though they weighed absolutely nothing. To the other side, that idiot now ripped horns off a rather crappy looking horn. He growled as he bowed his head, puffing out at them. That is, until he spotted something in the corner of his eye.
A fucking gnome wielding some sort of mug as a weapon.
Drayel screamed like a woman, horrified with the realization that it wasn't actually that far away. No longer holding any pride, Drayel ran from the squawking thing all the while charging down anybody who dared set in his way. He wouldn't leave the room, that was admitting defeat. So he tackled, ran over, and plowed down anybody that deemed stupid enough to run into his path.
Screw them all, every man for himself!
A fucking gnome wielding some sort of mug as a weapon.
Drayel screamed like a woman, horrified with the realization that it wasn't actually that far away. No longer holding any pride, Drayel ran from the squawking thing all the while charging down anybody who dared set in his way. He wouldn't leave the room, that was admitting defeat. So he tackled, ran over, and plowed down anybody that deemed stupid enough to run into his path.
Screw them all, every man for himself!
Re: The World's Greatest Barfight
Andras’ vault forward was interrupted when an unholy banshee started wailing throughout the building. Turning to the source of the noise, he was surprised to see it was man he had been wrestling earlier, blindly charging through the building like an ox. Andras blinked a couple times. Just how hard had he hit the fellow earlier?
Andras had more important things to worry about. Some half-elven bastard was swaggering in his direction. Andras scowled at the newcomer, deciding this was the perfect opportunity to test his newfound club.
The bastard came in swinging, but Andras ducked left under the blow. Bringing himself around the slow punch, Andras flew forwards and brought his fist ramming right into the fellow’s gut. The response was immediate when the man ejected a thick green vomit, but Andras wasn’t done. Taking more steps forwards; he drew the man backwards several feet before pinning him against a table. At this, he savagely raised the antler before sending it careening downwards.
There was a violent crack as the antler connected. Andras raised and lowered it three more times, the antler not but an increasingly reddened blur. Each savage blow produced a new scream, until eventually the elf’s flailing legs got lucky and hit Andras in the balls.
Rather than press the temporary advantage, the bastard decided to cut his losses. He rolled sideways off the table before scrambling about the floor, presumably off to hide in the corner.
Andras recovered quickly. The hit had not been crippling. He had other problems now, though. The giant was near enough to him. Andras spun the antler in his hands as he backed up, resembling a cornered lion. He searched the room for advantages, and found one. The underling he knew as “Silent Pate” was creeping up behind the giant, slipping under tables to avoid thrown objects. Damn creepy, the way he crawled. Made him look like someone shoved a spider’s brain into a human body.
Andras wasn’t one to reject help from a fucked up man-spider though, so he decided to give Pate all the diversion he needed to hop onto the giant’s back. Fighting defensively, he exploited the superior reach of the antler to maintain as much distance from the bigger fellow’s two clubs as possible. With any luck, he wouldn’t hear Pate stalking his way up over the chaos.
Andras had more important things to worry about. Some half-elven bastard was swaggering in his direction. Andras scowled at the newcomer, deciding this was the perfect opportunity to test his newfound club.
The bastard came in swinging, but Andras ducked left under the blow. Bringing himself around the slow punch, Andras flew forwards and brought his fist ramming right into the fellow’s gut. The response was immediate when the man ejected a thick green vomit, but Andras wasn’t done. Taking more steps forwards; he drew the man backwards several feet before pinning him against a table. At this, he savagely raised the antler before sending it careening downwards.
There was a violent crack as the antler connected. Andras raised and lowered it three more times, the antler not but an increasingly reddened blur. Each savage blow produced a new scream, until eventually the elf’s flailing legs got lucky and hit Andras in the balls.
Rather than press the temporary advantage, the bastard decided to cut his losses. He rolled sideways off the table before scrambling about the floor, presumably off to hide in the corner.
Andras recovered quickly. The hit had not been crippling. He had other problems now, though. The giant was near enough to him. Andras spun the antler in his hands as he backed up, resembling a cornered lion. He searched the room for advantages, and found one. The underling he knew as “Silent Pate” was creeping up behind the giant, slipping under tables to avoid thrown objects. Damn creepy, the way he crawled. Made him look like someone shoved a spider’s brain into a human body.
Andras wasn’t one to reject help from a fucked up man-spider though, so he decided to give Pate all the diversion he needed to hop onto the giant’s back. Fighting defensively, he exploited the superior reach of the antler to maintain as much distance from the bigger fellow’s two clubs as possible. With any luck, he wouldn’t hear Pate stalking his way up over the chaos.