Trog's Tavern CCLII

[Fenric]

Even a common pearl is worth a fair number of clams, and this is not such a common treasure.
"Of course. What brings you here to our city?"

This perfectly fair and reasonable question is not promptly answered as the little guy is busy slurping clams like they might somehow escape. Eventually, though, he does come up for air

My feets, of course!

he giggles at his own joke for nearly a minute before regaining his composure

I was going to Val Salia to join ze bestest enclave because my home got washed away in floods. But when I got here, zhey didn't know about the enclave or anyzing, and zey said zis was "necks-us" and zen somebody said to come here! I found a coin in the grass, which was good because I don't have moneys, and found sillies had put perfectly good oysters in ze trash! I almost got ranned over by a cart, and scaryscarydog barked at me, but I was brave and here I am.

[Chaotic Bob]

It has remained where it was for quite some time, after the initial moment of formation. Slowly contracting and expanding with some unheard breath.
The blood ogre, after some period of doing little, twitches and stands quite a bit closer to a nearby table. Despite not actually moving in any notable way beyond the twitch.

"-----!"

A ripple of something emanates from it, somewhere between word, thought, and emotional outburst.
This carries with it the promise of violence in its most distilled form.

Acting on this promise, it wastes little time in smashing aside recently vacated chairs and kicks the table at the retreating couple who had been there a moment before, splattering droplets of its own blood in all directions.

Incoming mayhem.

[Fenric]

At the noise and commotion, the yinglet does what any yinglet would do in this situation:

He throws his hands up, screams at the top of his lungs, and runs around blindly.

[Chaotic Bob]

For better or worse, throwing one's hands up in the air and running around wildly is likely to be what a bunch of people are going to do.
Except for the more coherent ones, who are running towards the door.

Unfortunately for everyone in the tavern, this situation's violence seems to be angling only upwards. Around when the blood ogre is grabbing a nearby man and flinging him at the door, like a fast ball pitch.
The impact produces both an uncomfortable noise and a small blockage for those looking to escape.

"...."
Simmering hatred. Lust for pain.

It's right arm's hand stretches, fingers curling into scything claws.

[Celticbear]

Spoiler: So this guy rows into the bar in a pail white canoe

Show

... and looks on in the ensuing chaos. Weighing whethor he should join in the conflict, or watch it, he finds a chair and sits.

[Chaotic Bob]

Jacob Daynor rubbed his face and stood up. It has been an altogether horrible day, which isn't too unusual, he guesses. Clients in this business are usually entitled nitwits.

A couple of his coworkers wave him down from across the room. They were thinking of heading out to get some drinks, maybe play some cards. It's been a rough day for everyone, apparently, and they were looking for a relaxed way to get their bearings.
Why not Trog's? They're usually pretty good and it's only down the street. It's always down the street.

He agrees and they find themselves there, not too much later. Frank pulls out a deck of cards while Luis calls down some drinks for them.
They discuss clients. They laugh over awful card hands. They enjoy their drinks and company.

A beast rises in the back of the room and they all become a bit wary, but it doesn't seem to do anything for quite some time.
Jacob waves the concern aside, it's probably just some mage showing off to a date or something.

The game continues. Luis throws down a winning hand and begins a cheer, as a table flies into his back.

****

Little time is wasted before the blood ogre moves its clearly intended violence to the next step. Claws are driven into a prone man at its feet, brushing aside a shattered table and applying similar treatment to two stunned individuals sitting nearby.

It roars expectation and doom.

Those that are closest are in the most immediate danger. If the canoe-rider is towards the front half of the room, they aren't an immediate target.
Everyone else is, however.

[Recaiden]

The barmaid finishes pouring a tray of drinks, hands it off to the smallest waiter, and half-laughs to herself. The bar is really devoid of heroes today, isn't it? And none of the mercenaries contracted to deal with these things are hanging around. Well, it had been getting a bit ... quiet.

Her scarf lights up, bands of rainbow light running up and down it, as she takes a laser shotgun (just an ordinary laser cannon with a many-faceted prism strapped on the front) out from under the bar and sends a blast of fragmented light towards the ogre. Tongues of flame flicker up around her hands.
"Hey. Pick on someone who can at least put up a fight."

[Fenric]

The yinglet stumbles over a thrown chair, then crashes heavily into a potted plant. Scraped, dirty, and bleeding ever so slightly he's also missing a few small patches of fur now.

He brandishes the remains of a bromeliad

Stay over zhere, scary monster!

Then there are lasers and fire

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

[Celticbear]

The robed man walks slowly towards the screaming "man", and extends a gloved hand and a whisp of magic.

Calm. The threat is over. Get behind me. says the robed man.

The magic was a calming spell for those of you who can tell what kind of spell it was.

[Chaotic Bob]

There does seem to be distinct lack of heroes on this day, doesn't there?
It isn't really something that seemed to bother the blood ogre.

At least, not as much the blast of laser-heat evaporating a good portion of its back into the air.

The beast whirls around, clipping another chair with a foot and sending it towards the bar. It moves quickly behind the chair, its second hand lengthening to equal the claws on its first.
"....!"
Hatred. Death. A terrible thrill.

The panicking (but maybe not for long?) yinglet and the robed man are paid little heed. There are apparent benefits to not being hostile at the creature.

[Fenric]

The little guy's frantic breathing slows to a more reasonable rate, and he stops trembling quite so violently.

As calm as a hyperactive little yinglet ever gets now he scurries to hide behind the robed man: still "armed" with the sad, broken remains of a bromeliad

Ze zreat looks like its still right over zhere... but yes: good, good, you go in front.

[Recaiden]

The bartender ducks out of the way as the chair crashes past. A rackful of glasses and bottles shatter, and she hops out over the bar to better confront this thing.
The flames that pool around her feet, normally quiescent candle-light, flare up to a roaring bonfire. They don't burn the barmaid or the floorboard, but they'd be happy to boil away this troublemaker.
But no more laser-shot for the moment; it needs a second to recharge.

Is that a Death over there? Or just a Death impersonator? Taking his sweet time, either way.

[Celticbear]

The Riverman tells the yinglet: On my word, I want you to run to the one who just fired the bright lights, the barkeep. Know that it is not your time, and you need not fear this creature if you do exactly what I tell you.

The Riverman then looks up at the ogre, and starts to walk towards it. He extends a hand towards the door, and it opens. The pale paddle the man used to ferry his way in flies through the door into his hand.

This place as I know it is a sanctuary. No conflict should have reached its borders. You have violated this place's purpose, and therefore must be punished. Now my little friend, now!

The Riverman charges at the ogre, the paddle frothing with blue energy, and strike the creature with a blow aimed at its chest.

[Chaotic Bob]

The blood ogre was preparing to just plow through the fire and tackle the bartender. It's form even seemed a little less fluid, a bit more solid, in an effort to gain some moderate amount of defense against the heat.
But then Riverman decides to interfere with his energy-paddle, at the precise time when physical impact would be the most effective.

The beast's chest splinters at the impact site, quickly collapsing back into a fluid state to mitigate damage...with the unfortunate side effect of then proceeding to lose more form to the flame's forced evaporation. It stumbles back a little, both from the impact and a general effort to move from the heat.
Something akin to another noiseless, hatred-projecting roar wafts out from it and it swings both of its arms down towards the ground, each aimed towards a different one of its two aggressors.

On impact with the floor, the limbs immediately reharden, shatter, and send a rather nasty spray of razor sharp pieces towards both the bartender and Riverman.

[Fenric]

The yinglet wastes no time, but runs to hide behind the sopretty lady with the lazer guns who has the keys to the clam-locker and knows where the clam-juice is kept

Scaryman said to come over by you... Fire hurts too but bones and blood and broken pottery are all just too much. I've gotta spike-plant, zough, so maybe I can stop ze blood: matriarch Sini said zhat spike-plants would stop blood.

But then: sharp blood spikes!

OW OW OW OW OW OW OWO! MY EYE! MY EAR! MY LIP! MY NOSE! MY BELLYBUTTON! OW OW OW OW OW!

[Recaiden]

Don't worry, little clam-hunter. You won't get burned. Unless something goes horribly wrong.

The bartender is cut into with a spray of spikes. It stings, but it seems like the yinglet got the worst of it. As for her, it looked like it was going to be bad, but it's just scratches, really.
"Hang in there, little guy."
She looses another blast of lasers at the monster's shattered chest.

Hmm. Did the spellcaster confuse them with the Dancing Fox Inn, maybe? It's true that they can't have giant monsters eating the customers, but a sanctuary? Really?

[Celticbear]

The Riverman was hit with quite a few shards, but they don't seem townhouses him. He raises his paddle high, and now it and the rest of his body starts to glow with red energy. An aura of fear.

YOUR TARGET IN THIS AFFAIR IS ME AND ME ALONE. THEY ARE INSIGNIFICANT SPECKS IN THE SANDS OF TIME COMPARED TO ME. I GIVE YOU THIS CHANCE TO FIGHT ME ALONE, OR RUN NOW AS A SMART MAN WOULD DO. I AM KHARON, FERRYMAN OF THE RIVER STYX. I AM DEATH, HORSEMAN OF ABADDON AND DAEMONIC PRINCE OF DECAY. I AM THE RIVERMAN, AND WATER FLOWS THROUGH MY VEINS!

After this speech, he widens his aura to affect the ogre, not so much as to make him huddle in fear, but enough power to antagonize it and draw its attention.

[Chaotic Bob]

A good old fashioned taunt is thrown the blood ogre's way, timed well enough for it to almost not notice in time that lasers are flying through its body!

It notices, but they're still passing through. The reaction to the shot is a bit different this time, as the blasts almost seem like they meet no resistance whatsoever. There's a spray of sizzling red from its front and back around the beams, followed by a growl-filled step back.

"...."
Disappointment. Irritation. Distaste.

All at once, the beast's entire body collapses to the floor in an enormous splash of crimson, giving up any semblance of form or shape. All save for what look somewhat like a handful of screaming faces in the swirls of blood that fall to the floor. It smells horrific, but takes no other immediate actions.
If anything, it just seems to be seeping into the wood.

[Fenric]

The yinglet whimpers a bit at the spectacle

Zhat's really gross! Big stinky meany bloodfaceblood monster. You shouldn't let zhem come here.

[Sniccups]

J looks at Ben the Bellsprout, then at her backpack. She takes out a bottle of glowing green liquid. She looks at Alder, then the bottle, then Ben, then back at the bottle.

"I just had the best idea! This potion makes plants grow. If I give some to that Bellsprout, what do you think would happen?
It would definitely get a power boost!

[Recaiden]

"There's worse things than death here, you know." 'Specks', really. Newcomers have no respect.

The flames draw back, guttering out, retreating to a small collection of tongues and sparks around the barmaid's feet. On her way back to get another mop, she goes to put a hand atop the poor yinglet's head- "Be healed." -and fix him up with a bit of healing magic: eye and ear and lip and bellybutton, wherever the blood-spikes struck.

"And what if he just wanted a drink? We let everyone come here, until they try something like that."

[Earl of Purple]

"I'm... Not sure. But Bellsprout aren't just plants. They're also pokemon, and that might have an affect upon the potion's efficacy." Alfred's a little nervous about it; he's not had much experience with magic, and doesn't fully trust it. In fact, this is only his second outing as a character, and the last time he didn't see any direct use of magic. Though the blue spigre he met might not have been the product of science or technology, no matter how advanced.

[Celticbear]

It appears that the creature is gone says the Riverman as he brushes some bloodsicles off of his chest.

I apologize for the mess I've made, allow me to help you clean it.

[Fenric]

The yinglet giggles at the healing magic

Zhat tickles!

he listens to the barmaid, then nods

Yeah... I guess zhat makes sense.

I wonder if any are still here?

he looks around to see what might be left of his clams

[Recaiden]

The Riverman is handed a mop and bucket of his own.
"By all means."

As for the plate of clams, it seems to stand miraculously unharmed on the bar; the chair flew overhead and the spikes were intercepted by the combatants. Still there, still delicious!

[Celticbear]

The Riverman waves his hand over the bucket of water, and said water rushes out in a precise flow. It sweeps up any blood, debris, or other uncleanly object from all over the bar and then goes back into the bucket. The bar is now almost spotless.

Is there somewhere wherein I can dump this, or do I just throw it outside? asks The Riverman.

[Fenric]

The yinglet does a happy little dance

Yay! My clams!

and with that, he returns to eating them as fast as he can. At least, up until the riverman's display of water-bending

Woah... how did you do zhat?!

[Recaiden]

"With all that trash, just put it in the wastebin outside." The bartender replies, before retreating with the mop. That was pretty impressive.

[Celticbear]

The Riverman walks outside and dumps the waste into the basket, and then he walks back in.

Water is easy to control if you flow as it does, and I should clarify that I am the Ferryman of the River Styx no longer. Mortals all over the world, this one and others, are starting to loose their faith in the old gods. Thankfully however I am a demi-god, however I fear for those who required mortal belief to survive. The long and short of it is that I am not here to claim anyone for their eternal afterlife.

[Fenric]

The yinglet swallows his most recently extracted clam, looking at the riverman and trying to make sense of what he said.

Uh... you used to live by Stick River? Some of my friends liked to fish zhere, before zhe floods.

the rest is just hopeless, so he changes the subject

Did you want a clam? So-nice lady traded me a whole pile of clams for an oyster-pebble.