((OOC Please jump in on this. The more the merrier in a good ol'fashioned bar fight.))
Jacob desperately tried to keep the broken glass bottle in his assailant's hands away from his face. He was in a tavern, called the Tired Ram Tavern, in a particularly seedy part of Selevea, where he had been playing his lute for the barkeep. Deal was that he got to keep any coins thrown his way and in the meantime, barkeep got free entertainment. It was going fine, just like any other night of playing, until one of the patrons had one too many and had taken offense to Jacob's singing.
In the drunk man's defense, Jacob's songs and voice were often depressing, and while that suited some people just fine, it really bothered others. This particular gentleman was not in the mood for a sad song. So he had pulled the minstrel out of his chair in order to "persuade him" to stop.
Jacob desperately searched around the tavern, looking for a helpful soul.
A warm, bright afternoon led Aldanith to only one place - the inn. As always, he seemed the dark corner to have a pint of wine or a jug of mead, and today was no different. Except that it was already evening, stars glistened on the sky, and he was still holding the same glass, which wasn't even half empty.
His mouth opened to a yawn, and he didn't even bother with covering it with his hand. The bard playing afar was entertaining, but not enough for him... He wanted something more.
His thin lips twisted to a bleak grin as a drunkard walked up to the bard. The sad, solemn music stopped, and was replaced by the sight of a broken bottle and angry, reddened face of the patron. The dark elf slowly stood up, and with long, confident, but elegant steps crossed the room.
A hand, half hidden in a black gauntlet, appeared on the drunk's shoulder. Two last fingers, which clenched around it, lacked the dim blue color of his skin, instead glinting with the muted tones of metal, and his head, hidden in the shadows of his hood, shook slowly.
"Don't stop the music, darling." he whispered.
Jacob's frantic searching brought his eyes to a Tall, lanky dark elf. The man was approaching Jacob and his attacker, and for all of a second Jacob was ecstatic, a rescuer! That feeling melted away in the next instant when he noticed that the elf was practically oozing ill intent. The hair on his Jacob's arms stood on end, and he wasn't sure anymore if he was the only one who needed rescuing.
The drunken patron, noticing the hands placed on his shoulder, and hearing the whisper in his ear, whipped around in a frenzy of motion attempting to backhand whoever it was that had bothered him.
In only a split second as the patron's hand arose, Aldanith caught it with an iron grip. His grin grew even wider, but it was dark, darker than the night outside.
"This was a big mistake, you little f***er." he snarled. And in the next moment, he kneed the drunkard into the stomach and tossed him into the counter right after. What a fool... Thinking he could even attempt to punch him.
The man's body sled onto the floor, and Aldanith raised his proud head, looking down at the bard. "Pick that lute back up and keep playing." he growled.
Jacob looked at the dark elf, happy for the help the other man had given and happy that the situation had not gotten too far out of control.
He would have been more than pleased to retrieve his lute and do what the dark elf said, but his motion to do so was interrupted by an abruptly flying chair. Some of the drunks friends; a goodly number of them actually, most of whom just as inebriated as he was; had rallied to his aid.
Jacob yelled, "Look out!" to his newfound ally, and moved to block the projectile. Inwardly, he groaned. And now it was a full-on brawl, he thought. So much for making any profit tonight.
"Filth." Aldanith whispered, and unsheathed Frostdeath and Bloodstorm, until now hidden in two long sheaths on his back. The hood sled off his head, revealing his fair, but cold, hard face, and his ice-blue eyes pierced the patrons.
"Come on, entertain me, if you think you'll last more than a minute." he mocked them. The smirk was gone, and he moved into a defensive stance, steady on his feet, but ready to leap up and charge in any moment.
((OOC: Feel free to take control of any unnamed characters you need to))
To a man the drunkards took a step back as the dark elf unsheathed his weapons. The eerie hissing sound and the wicked blades cut through some of the fog in their brains. The group as a whole decided that attacking the dark elf head on was a bad idea.
Still, the group was eight strong, bravado born from alcohol meant that they couldn't back down now. Instead of running away, like a sane group of men, the drunkards began hurling things at the dark elf. Chairs, tables, knifes, forks, plates, just about anything that might incapacitate or wound their opponent from afar. Inebriated as they were, the items had essentially no level of accuracy, but the sheer amount of flying objects could endanger an ordinary combatant.
For his part Jacob watched with serious concern as the Dark elf unsheathed his wicked-looking blades. Things were escalating far faster than he could keep track of, so he decided to just go with the flow and sort out the consequences later. In a show of solidarity for his savior, he drew his own weapon, an old but well-maintained dagger. The weapon had a serious blade that identified it as an instrument for wounding, as opposed to any kind of tool or utility item.
Jacob started moving towards the drunks, just as inanimate objects began taking to the air. He ducked the occasional item thrown in his direction, but most of the projectiles were directed at the dark elf. The drunks had clearly registered him as more dangerous than the minstrel, an analysis that Jacob could agree with. Concerned with the sheer volume of the fusillade, Jacob turned to check how the dark elf was faring.
Baklari entered the room, seeing the fight, and decided to stop it. He was here to find a contact, not get obstructed by damned idiots. He roared at the top of his lungs at the patrons and culprits.
"Enough! Imbeciles."
Aldanith used the thin blades of his scimitars to fend off what could hit him, casually moving only a little more than his wrists, and his face didn't even appear amused. Someone tossed a plate at him, and it flew over his shoulder, breaking on the counter behind.
They were too drunk to throw something well-aimed, and too cowardly to come straight at him, and his clear mind and deadly aim provided a sure advantage to him. The assault of the men was slowing down, as they were running out of things to aim and toss at him, and all the attacks seemed to be worthless, when something large entered.
Aldanith cringed with hatred and rage as he recognized Baklari. His ears, sticking out from his hair, were pulled back as he barred his teeth and snarled like a wild cat. "You! You big son-of-a-b***h!" he growled, almost spitting out the words. "You still owe me the nine hundreds!"
The anger was still burning in him, as he didn't forgive and forget easily, and a deception such as that was more than enough of a reason for him to be angry. The scimitars in his hands were shaking, so hard he clenched his hands around them.
The loud roar took Jacob aback. The power behind it stopped him in his forward movement as well as the frantic activity of the drunks. In fact, all motion the Tavern was suddenly ceased.
In the ensuing silence, Jacob heard the angered voice of the dark elf ring out in a call of accusation accusation. When he turned to look he was startled to find that the dark elf's visage was even more menacing than before.
Still, he had chosen his side and he would stick with it. Jacob faced the creature and held on tight to his dagger. He just hoped he was equipped to deal with what came next.
Baklari had been hunched slightly, but he rose to full height, the twelve foot monster still hunched in the room.
He snarled, examining Aldanith, before turning, and exiting the bar. He couldn't fight in such enclosed conditions.
"If you want them, come and claim them."
The rage completely deprived Aldanith of common sense, and he rushed out of the bar after the monster. "Off course I want the f***ing money!" he shouted, preparing Bloodstorm and Frostdeath for a brutal bloodshed. Their blades cracked with small bolts of lightning as he bashed their sides against each other, and he raised his head up, looking at Baklari's tall silhouette.
He immediately considered all strengths and weaknesses. Hard carapace, four swords, and insane weight, when compared to his, were a straight advantage... His scimitars weren't going to work against this. Also, the slashing talons could prove difficult... He was in a disadvantage. If he'd have a hammer, maybe his chances would be bigger. But he didn't...
The only option would be to beat this creature into the dust from behind.
Jacob followed the dark elf into the street, pausing only to scoop up his lute and stuff it in its case as he went. The elf must be crazy, he wasn't really going to fight this creature, was he? Jacob got his answer as he walked outside. He could almost see the elf weighing his options against this fearsome opponent. Jacob growled, he was in way over his head with this. Still, he did have a rescue to repay...
Those four swords would be a problem, and Jacob doubted that his meagre knife could do much damage against its carapace. But maybe if he could knock it over, it might give the leverage needed for him or the elf to do some damage.
His action resolved, Jacob moved out to the creature's left, trying to keep his movement as non-threatening as possible, watching its reaction. The thing seemed to be mostly ignoring him for now, and he wanted to keep it that way. He would have to take the right opportunity. Jacob just hoped he didn't get skewered before he saw it.
Baklari followed both of them with his eyes, seeing the knife.
"Are you too afraid to claim your gold? Come and get it." Baklari's mandibles clicked, and his body tensed, as he prepared to hack at them.
Gutztomp couldn't believe his eyes. There was a random monster in the middle of the street. What luck! Here he was looking for a bar fight, but he found something much better. He drew his axes and banged them together over his head.
"Hey, ugly! You'll look great on my wall!"
A growl escaped Aldanith's throat. He knew what to do... He had a plan. And it was pretty damn clear... He wanted either his gold, or to see this bastard suffer, and cringe and beg in pain.
He raised his hands, cracking his knuckles. The metal half of his right hand clinked at the touch of his gauntlets. He moved slowly, with the elegance and strength of a mountain lion, stretching his muscles.
Suddenly, a bright white bolt of lightning crossed the sky, and crashed straight into the creature, immediately followed by a deafeningly loud thunder.
Things were moving too fast for Jacob again. First this new player in their deadly game and now blindingly bright lightening on a clear evening. Still, years of battlefield instincts told him he had an opportunity. Jacob sprinted impulsively at the creature brandishing his knife in front of him, before taking off in his best attempt at a flying tackle. He just hoped he could deflect whatever blades came his way, and that maybe his two potential allies would deal with the rest.
Pheonix watched as the creature with the swords was charged by a man with only a knife. What an idiot... She couldn't just let him die though. She charged at the creature, pulling out her two swords to help defend him as he attacked. She made it to the creature, reaching it just before the man did, ready to block some sword strokes.
Baklari was blinded by the lightning, stunned and disoriented, and he let out a deafening shriek. Only it wasn't pain, or frustration. It was a call. A call that would sound across dimensions, to his brethren Nervana.
The chaos would begin soon. Above them, a thunderstorm began to form, swirling, the unearthly red lightning streaking across the sky, creating strange thunder that seemed to phase and shift, as if the sound wasn't used to travelling through the air, and the smell of brimstone and sulphur filled the air.
"Hahahaha!"
Aldanith, who was till then ready to attack Baklari, backed up at the sound and sight of an unearthly lightning and thunder. He would recognize things that weren't usual, and this was definitely not a natural anomaly...
His form seemed to flicker, blend with the darkness, till he became naught but a shadow in the night.
Gutztomp was undaunted by the ominous display and charged Baklari anyway. He wasn't going to let a little lightning keep him from his prize.
The sound of the creatures roar arrested Jacob's movement. He did his way to stop and back away from the creature. Something was wrong, it sounded almost as if it was, laughing. The elf was gone too, and if he was out of the picture, Jacob didn't really want to take his chances, even with all these new players. He started backing off, ready to bolt of necessary.
Pheonix watched as the man started to back away. She continued to attack, unafraid of the lighting/storm.
Baklari laughed as he batted away the two attackers, hearing the sound of something of colossal proportions roar in the distance.
"My cousin is here boys. And now, I will take my leave." Baklari pointed towards the source of the noise, before teleporting to his mistress.
Off in the distance, about a mile away, something rose out of the forest, it's serpentine body rising up to an unprecedented height. It towered over the forest, a titan, looking down on the insects. Nothing else had arrived. Just the huge monster that had it's eyes set on the town.
Gutztomp stumbled backwards as he was struck, but he wasn't done yet. Before he could get his revenge an even larger monster appeared. Gutztomp looked up at the massive beast and tightened his grip on his weapons. This would be interesting.