Well hey, there's something interesting now isn't there? Junior spots the wee lass (although she's no smaller than himself really) as she heads to the bar, and slips out of his seat. The drorf quickly cuts through the crowd to intercept the Blarg, aiming to surmount the stool beside her just after she's in her own seat.
"Oy thar gobbo, watcher doin' in a place like this'n? Din't think this wassa place fer 'ard folks like yerself." In Junior's opinion, this odd looking goblinoid seems pretty tough, not like most of the patrons in here lately.
Then again, looking at Phity a second time, there were at least a few here that could hold their own. Those drow from earlier, while not exactly the toughest looking things around, at least knew when to start a fight.
You know, maybe Junior ought to re-evaluate his previously held opinions about this joint.
"Oy! A round fer me an' this'n, what'ver she'll ave." Or maybe he'll just flag down one of the goblin servers and offer to buy this new person a drink. Much easier to make friends than introspect.
And hey, since it hasn't been mentioned in awhile, how about a description? Junior stands around 4'4", with deep grey heavily scarred and burned skin that doesn't do his looks any favors. Considering how often and heavily he frowns, scowls and sulks, he probably wasn't much to look at even before his face was roughed up. He's wearing a shirt and a rather heavy black bowler hat, but his pants were recently stolen by a starspawn girl. Thankfully, he's wearing a full body suit of chainmail underneath his clothes, and boxers, just to be safe.
The blarg gives the drorf an odd look. Firstly, he looks pretty rough around the edges, and secondly he's apparently pantsless. Probably drunk or something.
"Ey?" she responds, "Did you just say I was one of the gobbers?" she doesn't seem to know what to think at the moment, so it's slightly hard to pinpoint the exact emotion she's conveying at the moment. Perhaps she isn't sure herself.
"I'm no gobbers, scarry-one. I've got the skull-thick, and skull-thicks is called Blargs. Gobbers wish they was skull-thicks."
On this slightly confusing note, she taps her skull a couple times with two short clonks. Whatever she is, goblin or 'blarg', she certainly does have an odd way of speaking, which might prove a slight barrier without a taking a few moments of translation.
Oh well, at least she's cute for whatever she is, even if she seems at least as thick as her head-shell.
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The black figure does not reappear from behind the cooling unit atop the adjacent warehouse. It stays well hidden. Whatever or whoever it was has no intentions of coming back into view, so the next move is Rhyan’s.
[Inside the BDD]
Winguardia listens closely to Sevet’s words. A sparkle of respect glimmers at the corners of her eyes when the skeleton recognizes his error and takes the bold, straightforward approach instead of trying to lie his way out.
“Apprentice… interesting… he is a Celestial. But that rules out Aerfallon or any other Blade Master…” she muses quietly.
She is about to comment that Sevet will have to break the news about the kitten to Alysha, but the winged woman does not wish to disturb Mayhala’s next tactic. Instead, she waits patiently to see the results.
Pity Sevet lost track of the time. His boss arrived outside exactly at the six minute mark two posts ago. ((Sorry if I hadn’t made that clear ))
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Last edited by LadyOfWar : 01-26-2012 at 11:13 PM.
Ah, well that explains a few things. Junior gives the blarg a knowing look, as if he'd expected it was something like that all along.
In reality, he hadn't a clue.
At least the language doesn't seem to be an issue. Junior has had plenty of practice with accents, so a bit of confusing speak isn't going to deter him, "Aye, tha's true enough, yeh look plenny thick from whar ah'm sittin'. Yeh got a name lass? Ah like ta know who ah'm gonna be drinkin' with." It seems like a foregone conclusion to the drorf that this is his next drinking partner. He really only has drinking and fighting to do in this place, and he really doesn't want to fight a cute lass like this one.
Even if she does look like she could take a punch from a pneumatic press and keep on swinging.
The blarg nods. Sure she's got a name. Everyone has a name, don't they?
"This one's got a name-sound, and it calls her Grotte. Scarry-one can call her Grotte, too, 'else she'll have to head-knock." the blarg replies, prodding herself with her thumb in case he couldn't gather who she was talking about. Not everyone could understand her for some reason. She always thought she was very clear, but sometimes you have to make an effort for those who were a little slow.
Because obviously, that must be the problem, right?
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Aside from being decently freaked out, the power doesn't seem to work. Undead have a resistance to mind affecting technique. "Sorry, but no. That would be betrayal. Why should I betray the boss to you folks?" If he had an eyebrow, it would be so raised right now.
((You were plenty clear. That's Sevet not knowing, not me.))
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Junior eye's her skull speculatively, clearly pondering the possibility of a "head-knock" from something that thick.
"Yeh any good at ead-knockin Grotte? Yeh can call me Junior, or jes keep at 'er with tha Scarry-one if yeh wish." Doesn't matter a wit to him what she calls him, but he's actually interested in her answer. He hasn't met anyone who could give him a run for his money when it came to headbutts.
Their drinks probably arrive right about now, Junior having the money out to pay for whatever Grotte ordered, as well as his own.
Grotte thinks about this for a moment, and then gives herself a subtle nod.
"Alright, this one will call it Junior." she seems to decide, grabbing the mug as it is given to her, "And it will call her Grotte."
She takes a swig of whatever thick, dark black fluid happens to be swimming around in her mug at the moment, not seeming to notice just how awful it is and looks. Presumably she ordered it on purpose.
"I's good at knocking. Few skull-thicks in Hubonk could knock better than Grotte."
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That gets a vicious smile out of Junior, and he fishes around in his satchel to pull out a few more coins, slipping them on to the table.
"Tell ya what Grotte, if yeh can best me in ead-knockin, ah'll buy yer drinks fer tha night. If yeh can't, ya have ta do tha same fer me. Sound fair nough to yah?" A little friendly competition is what we need in here! Most of the things Junior has met with his head have been soft, worthless targets.
Like brick walls.
Grotte looks like she could prove a challenge though. And really, besides a heavy concusion and a lighter wallet, what does he have to lose?
A challenge! A head-knocking callenge! As a blarg, Grotte has no choice but to accept, her pride is at stake! It's better to be knocked out and lose than to go home a coward who didn't knock at all.
Back at Hubonk, all disputes were solved with knocking. The best knockers always got the best things, so you had to get better at knocking to beat them, and if you couldn't do that you beat the next guy down. But that wasn't all.
"Grotte tells Junior that this one's home-clan has rule. Rule says worst-knocker has to make best-knocker happy until the next sundown. Worst-knocker can't do that, worst-knocker knocks again."
She seems very serious. It's highly unlikely she's making this up.
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Junior considers that carefully. Those are somewhat higher stakes than he'd proposed, but he couldn't exactly back down now that he'd proposed it. Besides, a day was hardly anything in the long run, so even if he lost it wouldn't be much of a hardship.
"Aright then, loser 'as ta do what tha winner says fer a day, an try ta make em happy." Junior removes his bowler hat, intent on making this a fair competition. If he lost, and the blarg told him he failed to make her happy and had to knock again, he'd use the bowler and show her something really hard.
Junior gets off his stool, downing the rest of his drink quickly so that nothing is distracting him. He'll step back a few paces so that there's a clear line between him and the bar. He isn't sure if there's any ceremony involved, so he'll wait for Grotte to make the first move.
The black figure does not reappear from behind the cooling unit atop the adjacent warehouse. It stays well hidden. Whatever or whoever it was has no intentions of coming back into view, so the next move is Rhyan’s.
[Inside the BDD]
Winguardia listens closely to Sevet’s words. A sparkle of respect glimmers at the corners of her eyes when the skeleton recognizes his error and takes the bold, straightforward approach instead of trying to lie his way out.
“Apprentice… interesting… he is a Celestial. But that rules out Aerfallon or any other Blade Master…” she muses quietly.
She is about to comment that Sevet will have to break the news about the kitten to Alysha, but the winged woman does not wish to disturb Mayhala’s next tactic. Instead, she waits patiently to see the results.
Pity Sevet lost track of the time. His boss arrived outside exactly at the six minute mark two posts ago. ((Sorry if I hadn’t made that clear ))
Quote:
Originally Posted by OrchestraHc
Aside from being decently freaked out, the power doesn't seem to work. Undead have a resistance to mind affecting technique. "Sorry, but no. That would be betrayal. Why should I betray the boss to you folks?" If he had an eyebrow, it would be so raised right now.
((You were plenty clear. That's Sevet not knowing, not me.))
Mayhala seems to be a bit put out at that. Not having met any undead before, she wasn't aware of that, and thus wasn't expecting it to not work, nor does she get why it didn't; she thinks she messed it up somehow, and, while she hides it well enough, is very unhappy about that..
Though, as, whether or not the magical effect is working, he'll hopefully be at least put off balance by the sudden change in her eyes, and their rather disconcerting appearance, she, if possible, stays in eye contact with Sevet, and while it doesn't do anything to aid the magic directly, her eyes begin to actively drain the light from the area around them, creating a small pool of utter blackness in the area directly surrounding each of them.
"It was supposed to be because of a compulsion spell... But considering that it didn't work, why are you working for him in the first place? Do you have something against Siri?"
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Originally Posted by Grim ranger
I support the godly magazine idea, and hope that Eld can serve as mix of town crier and incredibly deadpan game show host in some sections. Also, for some odd reason, he will also make appearance when it comes to godly fashion tips, for even if he is grim reaper he will be the most bishounen god there is. Just you wait
Quote:
Originally Posted by Moonwolf
Damn you and your comprehensive understanding of synergistic tactics. :|
Grotte hops off of her stool, leaving her own drink alone. There are more important things than drinking to do right now! Moving towards Junior, she extends her hands to his shoulders.
"Grab shoulders, then at three counts, we knock and see."
Once they're both prepared, the counting will start. At the count of three, both of them will try to lead the other into a fierce headbutt, at least by Hubonk customs. Sometimes things get a little off-script, as it were. This is acceptable of course; knocking is competitive.
And so, she counts down, pulling back her head in preparation...
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Junior counts along with Grotte, and tries to time his knock to be as close to simultaneous with hers as possible. Junior's head hits with the force of a thrown cinder block, and is about as thick as one.
After the collision, he seems dazed, but from his obvious grin the blarg should be able to tell he's far from being out of it.
"D'yeh wanna go again lass?" His grip on her shoulders may tighten a tad in anticipation.
Her thick skull is more than capable of taking a headbutt or two, but Junior's got some surprising strength for someone who isn't a blarg. Still, he isn't bred for this like she is. She's certainly not un-phased, but it'll take a bit more than that to really knock her out of the competition.
Obviously, since there was no clear victor, the second round must commence!
"Junior is good, but this one is best. Grotte always best."
She plants her hands down on his shoulders again.
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A small banjo appears in Flarg's hand and he offers it to Phitty, a mischievous grin on his face. Learn to play it well. Maybe you'll win next time. he stifles a laugh and bows slightly to the judges. If anyone so desires an encore I would be happy to oblige.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by C'nor
"Then next time, don't build your block house in his territory, dear. Now please stop trying to mindcontrol the daughter of someone who could lock us both inside our own heads for the next million years or so, alright?"
Yohalles, the Wanderer
Lonel, Gentleman Luck
Jongo, God of Sea-Life
Thankyou Raven for the brain-bleach worthy avatar.
Another count of three likely happens, and another head bonking shortly afterwards. Junior is, if anything, trying to hit harder this time. His theory is that if he can get a good enough blow through, he won't have to turn this into a war of attrition, which he's almost certain he'd lose.
Of course, the massive throbbing blob of pain that is his frontal lobe after that last hit is probably making him rethink things in a bit more sensible fashion. Or at least it would, were he not burying it under a level of alcohol induced pain tolerance unheard of among normal men.
"Are'yeh gettin' tired lass, or can ya step up an face one more?" From the looks of things, one more is about all Junior has in him.
Grotte has to blink a few times and try and shake away a little dizziness. This guy hits pretty darn hard, and she's honestly kind of impressed. Most non-blargs who got into a knocking competition would have been down after the first round, and here he is going for a third.
She takes in a deep breath and they prepare for what might just be the deciding round! The last round! All of the headbutting had led up to this moment, right here, right now! It's almost as if the air itself around them is giving them space for one last attempt!
1... 2... 3!
And their heads come crashing together once more!
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Flarg shakes his head at Then Don't sing much else than tavern songs. he may know how to play a dozen instruments but Flarg has never had the voice for singing. Expecially with all the cigars and rum he had consumed in life.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by C'nor
"Then next time, don't build your block house in his territory, dear. Now please stop trying to mindcontrol the daughter of someone who could lock us both inside our own heads for the next million years or so, alright?"
Yohalles, the Wanderer
Lonel, Gentleman Luck
Jongo, God of Sea-Life
Thankyou Raven for the brain-bleach worthy avatar.
Junior's forehead splits open on collision, and his eyes go blank for a moment or two as he blacks out standing up.
Then he snaps back into conciousness, a river of blood streaming down between his eyes, pouring over the bridge of his many times broken nose and dripping steadily onto the floor.
He gives Grotte another fierce grin, opens his mouth, most likely to ask for another round, and then his eyes roll back into his head as the accumulated damage catches up with him.
He's only still standing because of the vice grip on her shoulders. If Grotte's still concious at this point, I'd say she's won.
Grotte lets out a short cry of "Victoryyyy...!" before collapsing forwards, causing them both to land in an unconscious heap on the floor of the tavern.
Well, that didn't really end right for either of them, and now they're making a mess on the floor of the tavern, what with the blood and the piling of bodies on the ground by the bar. Someone ought to clean that mess up.
Still, it was a good knocking. Not just anyone could manage that.
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Del blinks a bit, shaking off an alcohol-induced haze that had been consuming his attention for the past...long while.
He vaguely recalls some thoughts about a beach and tequila, but beyond that, heck if he remembers.
The dragon-drow rubs his forehead a bit and looks around for Junior.
Where'd that psychotic dwarf go? Probably got into another fight or something...
Finding his drinking partner on the ground, head bleeding all over the place, with an unconcious...goblin? next to him doesn't really convince him that a fight didn't happen.
Judging by blood, Junior lost. At least he doesn't look dead.
Rubbing his forehead again, the fellow sets about to picking the two up off the floor (where they're at risk of being stepped on) and maneuvering them into chairs.
Neither are given a lot of care, either due to Del being a jerk or that alcohol-haze.
Just sort of casually placed into the chairs and leaned forward onto the table.
Although, he does hunt down some napkins for Junior to lay his head in. Probably enough to be a blanket, and with the resting pressure the forehead will suffer from gravity, maybe they'll even help sort of.
They'll get a few minutes, before he gets bored and tosses some water at their heads, from nearby glasses.
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Junior splutters when the water hits him, bolting upright in his seat and looking around accusingly. Not that it does him any good, since the semi-dried blood has effectively glued the napkins to his forehead, blinding him for the moment and making him look ridiculous.
A small banjo appears in Flarg's hand and he offers it to Phitty, a mischievous grin on his face. Learn to play it well. Maybe you'll win next time. he stifles a laugh and bows slightly to the judges. If anyone so desires an encore I would be happy to oblige.
Lellienth grins at him.
"I wouldn't mind one, I think. Depends. For one thing, would we just be performing, or would it be a formal contest again?"
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Grim ranger
I support the godly magazine idea, and hope that Eld can serve as mix of town crier and incredibly deadpan game show host in some sections. Also, for some odd reason, he will also make appearance when it comes to godly fashion tips, for even if he is grim reaper he will be the most bishounen god there is. Just you wait
Quote:
Originally Posted by Moonwolf
Damn you and your comprehensive understanding of synergistic tactics. :|
Flarg scratches his chin Why don't we all play a non-competitive encore together? he strums his guitar a bit and looks at Phitty Instruments and singing only please he turns back to Lel You start I'll follow.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by C'nor
"Then next time, don't build your block house in his territory, dear. Now please stop trying to mindcontrol the daughter of someone who could lock us both inside our own heads for the next million years or so, alright?"
Yohalles, the Wanderer
Lonel, Gentleman Luck
Jongo, God of Sea-Life
Thankyou Raven for the brain-bleach worthy avatar.
Gideon watches, realizing finally that it was a competition, and that the talented elf had apparently lost face by coming in second. He had not heard all of the songs with his full mind, so he could not say whether the halfling was better or not. What he could see was that he was taunting him by his statement "Instruments and singing only please" - refusing to acknowledge that the elf's talent had any value at all.
He raises his voice, rusty from lack of use during his weeks as a rat. "An encore without the elf chanter's participation would not be worth the listen."
Of course, whether anyone finds it worthwhile to pay attention to a half dressed, barbarian elf is doubtful.
((And I'm away for the weekend now, so please don't initiate any interaction unless you want your character trapped in deadtime till Sunday. ))
Phity is about to reply to Michicora when the scores are shown. At first, he frowns, but by the end, he's scowling, obviously bothered, but he'd had to accept what they said. He'd object, call for a rematch and try to beat Flarg in a face-off, but he had a Rep to consider. Gritting his teeth, he turns to him. "What instrument?"
Great, what had she been pulled into now? She was completely tone deaf so she could hardly tell which one that was better then the other. But it seemed appropriate to take this elves side in this.
Michicora looks straight at Flarg, "You sounded like a dying animal to me." She says with a shrug before turning to Phity, "I know a much better teacher then that tone deaf donkey if you want to master another instrument." She glances at Flarg again, "He could only teach to attract hungry hunters."
Andy stands up. It's obviouse that he won't have a small talk here unless he knows something about music. And that is something he hasn't while making his researches. He sits on another empty table just to drink and look around what other persons are around.
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Phity turns his back to Flarg, ignoring the more than heavy insults before he takes off his hat. He puts the banjo in it, revealing it to be a magic pouch, and puts it back on. "I'll learn it myself. Ready to get out of here?" He asks Michicora.
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