The Weal of Thyme turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the-.
"Oh get on with it! So many stories have these long winded openings! I want some action. Lets step up the narration. Where am I?"
Ritousaey, reluctant guardian of the multiverse, walks down a road through Northern Serendipity. He's headed toward Darken Vei, looking for a bit of a respite from his travels. He plods along alone, on a chilly afternoon, a bit of dust in the air around him from his own shuffling gait.
"Really now? I'm shuffling along a road? I can fly without effort, and on top of that I can instantly teleport myself anywhere in the multiverse, and you have me SHUFFLING along a dirt road? Narrate me somewhere fun already! Make it really fun and I'll promise to be mortal for the whole story, maybe."
We find our hero in a packed tavern in Darken Vei. He's on his eighth pint of ale. So many have come tonight that the seats are full, and many stand between the tables and at the bar. Women and men have come together to celebrate the end of a very successful day of work and trade. A few groups of young mages from the academy are even present. A trade caravan has come through and made everyone very happy and not a few a bit of coin. Friendly carousing and occasional groping is found pleasantly throughout the establishment. But every party has its share of trouble makers.
At the table behind Ritousaey, two men begin to argue over what was a friendly game of dice. One man accuses the other of cheating. "Push up your sleeves ya cheat!" He begins to round the table toward the accused and the other men fall silent and watch. The silence spreads like fire, and soon all the patrons are quietly watching.
"I didn't cheat!", the man exclaims pushing up his sleeves. "You just have a fools bad luck!" And with that he gives the accuser a hard push. He stumbles back and bumps into Rit, just as he's taking a drink of his ale. It sloshes down his front, and the tension in the bar grows. Rit sets down his now empty stein, turns around, gently picks up the man that is now sitting on the floor behind him, and brushes him off.
"You're a bit dusty from your fall. Can you stand steadily?" Rit seems calm but the man is still unsure. No unarmed townsman looks at an armored outsider with several weapons handy without a bit of caution.
"I'm sorry sir. I can stand just fine. My compatriot simply shoved me is all sir." The man spat the words out quickly to try and soothe the situation.
"You're compatriot? Since when do uneducated tavern dicers have such beautiful vocabularies? This narration is garbage." The addled commoner looked confused at Rits words.
"Narration sir?"
"Don't worry about it. I asked for fun, ale down my front isn't fun. You know what is?" Rit grinned mischievously at the man.
"No sir."
"A BAR ROOM BRAAAAAWL!" As he shouted it, Rit picked up the chair that he had been sitting in, and threw it at the man who had shoved his 'compatriot'. He fell into the table, flipping it and knocking over two other men. After two stunned beats of silence filled the tavern, all chaos broke loose.
Jacob stopped playing his lute and watched the scene unfold from his bar stool. The whole situation was eerily familiar...
He ducked a hastily thrown punch from the man next and sent one of his own into the fellows gut. For his trouble, he got an elbow to the face. Jacob was sent sprawling, and he tasted copper in his mouth. After a moment he stood up again, and noticed that the man who had laid him out was facing the other way. Jacob jumped onto his back. The man went down under his weight and Jacob smashed his laced fists down on the man's head in a brutal overhead blow. Jacob returned to his feet, already searching for another target. Sometimes you just had to cut lose, and pain made the voices subside, if only for another moment.
A wide toothy grin spread over Gutztomp's face. Yes! A fight! And he didn't even have to start this one himself. Who should he hit first? A man rushed up beside his and smashed a chair over his head, but Gutztomp was unaffected. For his troubles, Gutztomp grabbed the man by the throat and hurled him across the bar. Laughing with glee, Gutztomp then charged headlong into the largest concentration of people he could find, his bulk bowling them all over. This was a good day.
Barett saw the fight unfold before his eyes, he had decided to stay out of it until a bottle flew at his head. He shrugged and then jumped into the brawl. "You're all gonna die you little F-!" He yelled swinging his acoustic guitar 360 degrees around, he made it to about 320 until a chef knocked him unconscious with a frying pan. "Dammit." He grunted in his head.
At the sight of the bar brawl, Aldanith immediately backed away from the entrance. He rolled his eyes over, scowling at the drunkards. Another bar fight. Can't these idiots do anything clever? He thought the idea of entering over, but upon seeing how brutal it was becoming, his thin lips twisted into a grin.
It could turn into an interesting show... A lot of blood for him to see, and maybe even some loot!
He sneaked into the tavern up to the first unconscious man on the ground to empty his pockets, when a chair was sent flying at his head. He ducked underneath it, but his eyes narrowed with rage.
Whoever threw it was going to suffer.
Gutztomp was amused by the look of rage the dark elf gave after dodging the chair, so Gutztomp whipped another chair at him. He looked like a feisty one. Good fighting material. Just to be sure he had his attention, he followed up the second chair with the nearest person he could find. He grinned at the dark elf, his expression reading 'come and get me'.
Aldanith sprung to his feet and caught the chair in mid-air. He noticed the orc that hurled it at him in a matter of a moment - it wasn't difficult to see someone like that, not at all. For a moment, he lingered where he stood, wondering whether he should give into his rage, or control himself and not waste his precious time.
He decided for the second option, and bent back down to empty the man's pockets. Some brutish beast was beyond his concerns, but if he'd get one more thing flying at him, he would make sure to show him who is the more gifted one here.
Gutztomp's grin vanished instantly and was replaced by rage. So, he thinks he's to good to fight? Fine then! Gutztomp broke a nearby table in two with his fist, took one half in each hand, and hurled them at the elf.
"Come on, you pansy! Show some backbone!"
Barett came to rather quickly. When he got up he looked among the chaos for the chef that hit him but he was no where to be seen, so he decided to take his anger out on a nearby dark elf. He swung at him with his guitar, planning to play fifteen frats of pain.
Aldanith threw himself into the air, avoiding both things, flying at him from two directions, which instead crashed into each other, and landed on a table afar. His lips twisted into a bleak grin.
His right hand arose to the air, candlelight glinting on the metal of his two last fingers, and twisted around, eventually clenching the fingers together. In one sharp motion, he pulled it back towards his chest.
Dark magic always worked well... And this was only to bring his victims forth and throw them onto the ground.
Gutztomp was flung forward as some invisible force acted on him.
"Dat ain't fightin'," he roared in frustration. "Magic is fer weakings!"
"Oh moth F-" He started before he was pulled in. Barett has to resort to one of his special moves. He took out his large flask and chugged it down, he then took out his flint and steel. In seconds Barett was breathing fire on the chair setting it ablaze.
The smirk on Aldanith's lips grew even wider at the sight, and he reached after Bloodstorm and Frostdeath on his back, slowly standing up on the table. Now, he could attack while those two were vulnerable...
Swiftly, with the grace of a large predator, he leaped onto another table, and moved closer towards the orc, avoiding the flaming chair. One of his blades slipped underneath the orc's neck. "So, who is the one that wants to fight now? Are you afraid yet?" he whispered.
Instead of showing fear, Gutztomp grinned.
"That's more like it!"
He flung the dark elf off of himself, stood, and drew his axes.
"Now. Give me a real fight. No more magic shit!"
Aldanith didn't let a filthy orc throw him around, and landed in an elegant turn on the ground. As he stood up again, the blades were coated in thick black energy, resembling flames in the wind - but there was no wind in the tavern.
He leaped forth after the orc, slashing his blades in a lightning-fast motion.
Gutztomp watched the whirlwind of steel coming toward him. What a bunch of mukkin' about just to hurt someone. Gutztomp was not one for finesse. Instead, he brought up his axes and swung them at the flying elf.
Barett slowly backed away hoping to not be noticed. When people pull blades he got out of the room. When he felt that he was far enough he bolted out the bar. Once he was outside he decided to commit a little arsen, he took some cloth and emptied the rest of his flask some wine bottles in an alley way and before you knew it he had made 3 Molotov cocktails. Barett made sure that no one was around, and he threw them at the bar and ran away snickering.
Things were heating up in the tavern and the fight already involved lots of blades, an orc, an eerily familiar dark elf, and a lot more fire than Jacob was comfortable with.
The minstrel decided that this was a good time to make an exit. He pushed and shoved his way out of the sprawling melee and just as he reached the exit a heavy push sent him flying out of the now burning building through the establishments front door.
Jacob scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off before heading on his way, onto the next tavern. One that was less on fire. A man had to make a living after all.
Aldanith leaped even higher before the axes could have hit him, and he flew over the orc, making a huge turn in the air. His body turned around his head all around, and he landed on his bent legs far behind his opponent. Back up on his feet in a matter of a moment, another hurricane of slashes was aimed at the orc.
Something was thrown into the tavern, and exploded in fire just a few inches from his feet. Aldanith was thrown off his feet, crashing into the floor, and the flames on his scimitars disappeared with lack of his concentration. He scrambled to his feet again, brushing the fire off his boots, and snarling like a wild cat.
Gutztomp's frustration at not being able to hit this guy was mounting. Things became better though when some kind of fire bomb exploded at the elf's feet and provided a nice distraction. Gutztomp took the opportunity to charge again. He needed to hit this elf at least once before he was through.
As fun as pure brawling was, Rit could always spice things up, so he did so. Without breaking the fourth wall in this post, he leaped up to ceiling and when he came down he slammed into the ground with such force the entire building shook violently. Everyone in the structure, save for Rit himself, was knocked from their feet, and he laughed with glee as he danced between the fallen bodies, clubbing the larger ones with chairs and tables that turned to splinters with the collisions. What was the point in being more powerful than gods if you didn't have fun with it once in a while?
Pheonix was knocked to the floor by the blast wave. Only one man had remained standing and now he was running around clubbing people with chairs. Pheonix picked herself up before swinging her dual chained blades at the mans torso, lacing one of the blades with fire and the other with darkness that was like acid.
Weapons struck Rit, and he was not amused. This was to be a 'friendly' barroom brawl. Not deadly. He looked at the young girl that had attacked him with a very stern expression.
"Phoenix," Rit shook his finger at the girl, "no killing. This is about fun you live through. Not pointless slaughter."
With a snap of his fingers, Rit teleported her dual chained blades forward through time. They were gone now, but would be right back in her possession, just as soon as the fight was over. It wasn't just her weapons that did this. Everyone in the place would now find themselves unarmed. Rit didn't want anyone dying, for good measure he waved a hand to put out the fire. This place didn't need to burn down, but it sure did need some music. Too bad Jacob wanted to leave. Good thing Rit was well past god tier. He teleported the minstrel back in and threw him a sack of coins.
"Play something up tempo Jake. We need a soundtrack." A magic bubble around the minstrel would keep him out of the fight, but it also wouldn't let him leave. It was time to introduce Phoenix to Gutztomp. Rit helped the orc up and pointed him in the girls direction.
"Reckon she could use a bit more fun big guy. Get at it."
Jacob was confused. He'd just entered another bar, only to find himself back at the same one he'd just left. Something was wrong here. Still, there was coin at his feet, music to play, and no weapons in the room. Better to play now and worry about details later. He pulled out his lute and struck up a quick tune he'd learned from a rowdy sailor.
Aldanith groed at the disappearance of his weapons... Someone was pulling tricks at him, and he didn't like that, not one bit. But even without them, he could be deadly.
He cracked the knuckles of his left hand, and those clinked - like metal. Metal, which could tear stone to pieces. If this guy thought he could do whatever he wanted, he was wrong.
He came up to him from behind with a devilish grin on his thin lips, the slightly pointed ears and dark lines of kohl around his cold, sharp eyes giving him a terrifying appearance of a fierce predator, and put one hand onto the stranger's shoulder. "Let's play a game, could we?" he hissed into his ear. A strand of white hair brushed against the man's face.
How did he know her name? She thought. She felt rage building up inside of her as her blades disappeared. Stupid piece of ****. She looked down and realized that all of her weapons were gone even the blades in her boots and sleeves and the ones under her armor as well. She gave into her rage and flames engulfed her body, setting fire to the floor and ceiling. She blasted a wave of fire at the man before using her darkness magic to go invisible.
Gutztomp was not at all amused by Rit's antics, and taking his weapons made him very grumpy. Instead of Phoenix, Gutztomp went after Rit.
"I don't need weapons ta kill fings, ooman," he roared as he attacked Rit.
Rit now found himself the target of three separate assailants. Not exactly what he had in mind, and all that firey magic was gonna burn the place down and he had just put out the other fires. When fun became work it was time to make a change. Well this change was an anti magic bubble. Only his magic would work in the building. Jacob was safe, and no more crazy stunts. Phoenix lost here fire, and winked back into a visible spectrum, not that he couldn't see her when she was invisible. Now if he threw her across the room, people could get out of the way. The next thing he did was step out of time so that he could be there, in the tavern, three times at once. Yup, three Rit's, all there, ready to brawl his three opponents.
"Use your fists people," all three Rits said in tandem, "this is about brawling for fun, not killing."
Pheonix's fire sputtered out. And then the man split into 3 versions of himself and started talking like he owned the place. This made Pheonix even madder as she didn't understand that the loss of her blades and magic was temporary. She charged at Rit swinging her gauntleted wrist at the middle one of him.
By this point Gutztomp had completely forgotten about Aldanith. His full attention was now on Rit. He charge headlong at the nearest one and began swinging his big green fists at him. His goal was to break this guy in half.
Barett was walking back to his flat when he felt the weight of his silver dagger disapear from his leather pack. "What the.." He whispered under his breath. "Musta' been tha' go'damnned elf." He thought angrily as he turned around and started back towards the bar. When he arrived he saw that the fire had been put out and a man was being attacked. "Well tha' isn't qui' fair." He stated walking towards Gutzstomp. "Hey, you don't wanna do tha' buddy." He said using his silver tounge to try and level the playing field for the man.
It didn't matter to Rit that the odds were not even, for he had super epic ridiculous god tier powers and everything. And he was totally immortal so it really didn't matter. He had come here for such shenanigans as this, and was uber stoked that he was brawling.
With his ridiculous speed Rit dodged several Gutztomp punches and then grappled with the raging ork. He matched his strength to be exactly on par with Gutztomp, taking into account the considerable difference in size and weight. Even so, it seemed the tread on Rits smooth leather boots was not enough to match the ork, and he began to slide back. Meanwhile...
Rit threw an elbow into Aldanith's gut. The elf was a lot taller than him, but that didn't bother Rit. He dropped low after the elbow going to sweep the leg, but as he expected the agile elf vaulted over Rit, planting a boot to his face in the process. Elves, no matter the color or the universe, tended to rub it in your face when they scored a hit, and Aldanith would probably be no exception. Rit rolled away to avoid giving Aldanith an advantage, and turned to square off against this adversary. At the same time...
Rit took a gauntlet to the face and another to the gut as Phoenix went into a rage. He was not particularly fond of hitting attractive young women. Today though he made an exception. He struck quick, but not too hard, planting three blows to her face in quick succession. It was more meant to slow the girls momentum than actually hurt her. He then slipped behind her, hooking his arms up under hers. Before he could get his hands behind her head to complete the hold, the young woman threw back her head, connecting with Rit's nose. The blow stung, and he was left dazed for a moment.
As these three fights were taking place with great fervor, the other patrons of the tavern were rising and beginning to follow suit, clubbing the nearest person or throwing themselves into grappling matches. The magic around Jacob not only protected him, but also amplified his music, making sure it filled the entire building, even as the fighting renewed. Barett's voice was quickly drowned out, as the roar of brawling increased, and the music volume compensated to cut through the din. Barett got a tap on the shoulder from a newly arrived Rit.
"Less talky, more punchy," was all the all powerful guardian of the universe said before he threw a punch into the mans face.
As he started to get the knack of this, Aldanith's moves increased in craziness - he was more in the air, than on the ground. Finding himself facing one of the three versions of the man, he turned away, and launched himself above the fighting crowd in a large spin, using their very bodies as a path. Heads bent under his quickly flashing steel-tipped boots, shouts arose behind him, but he was so far over that...
The crowd was like a quicksand, but the Shadow-blood was too fast even for that. His figure was almost blurred as he ran above the heads of the tavern's patrons, till he got behind the back of one of Rit's versions - not the one that fought him, but another, the one that was currently busy with the girl.
Conveniently with his back to him. A perfect opportunity to land a few punches.
With an inhuman speed, he sent a flying kick into his waist, followed by a strong punch of the metal of his left arm into the back of his head.
Gutztomp grinned as Rit began sliding backwards beneath his might. However, a certain bar patron who thought it would be cool to impress his friends by landing a cheap shot on an ork ruined Gutztomp's good mood. The gutsy patron broke a chair over Gutztomp's head. Gutztomp, in return, hit the man with Rit, and then threw Rit aside and charged headlong into gutsy patron's buddies. The sight was akin to a strike in bowling as the men were sent flying from the impact of a couple-hundred-pound ork. It was time to start breaking people.
(ooc: thread necromancy!)
A scrawny but muscular elf is lazily strolling along by, and decided he wants a drink. As soon as he opens the door and see's what's going on, he has second thoughts. to get everyone attention, he yells using his diaphragm... something worth hearing. He indeed creates a loud sound for being such a small man.
"HEY!"
Once he has everyone's attention...
"Gentlemen, gentlemen... can't we be gentlemen?" He wags a finger at the lot of them. "you could have at least waited for me."
Thoron decided that this Gutztomp fellow was a lively opponent, and drew both of his swords... ready to impress with his acrobatic techniques.