Closed The City of Brotherly Hate (Clyde)

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde smiled for a moment, as his staff connected directly with the mans head, sending him staggering. However it seemed to hardly faze him, as all he did was curse, and right himself. The only reason Clyde could fathom he reacted as such was that he had stone for brains, going right back at something which had just inflicted pain. Of course, often that was just such the effect drinking copious amount of alcohol had. Even the weak ale served here could after a time get one drunk enough, if you drank truly large quantities. He was back at him, and the mans heft was driving right towards him. In this case, though Clyde had more height, this man was more solid and had more weight to throw behind his assault. Which lended some aid to the mans attack even without a weapon. Clyde moved his body out of the way, to keep him from grabbing his body, and taking him to the ground. If he got his bulk on him, Clyde would be in trouble. In his drunken state, the man managed to grasp the end of Clyde's staff, attempting to wrench it from his grip and send him flying. Clyde only just managed to keep his feet on the ground, and the staff in his hands, but things were quickly turning from his favor. Then he heard a growl, and saw as Rye darted forward, and attempted to sink his teeth into the mans ankle. He was trained as a guard dog, and to defend his master, so it was only natural for him to attempt to come to his aid. Perhaps the sting of a canines teeth would break him from his drunken stupor. In the meanwhile, Clyde willed the stone to rise, and had it float out from underneath the table once more. This time he aimed it right for the side of the mans head. His staff had not worked, but perhaps a stone to the head would do the trick. And if not... Well, he always had more direct and efficient means of Reimancy at his disposal. Though he would prefer not to set fire to someone in the Sliver, it would be to much trouble to put it out after. Not to mention if it scorched other things, he would be liable...

[Coltyn]

A smart man would've quit by now. A sober man, well, he too would've given up, even if he hadn't the wits to realize the fight was unevenly matched. A beating was a beating no matter how you looked at it. However, Coltyn was certainly nowhere near sober and, regretfully, when he got caught up in thoughts of his dearly departed brother whom he loved - quite literally - more than life itself, he was often unable to think clearly or smartly. "What the...?!" he suddenly exclaimed as he felt something clamp onto his booted ankle. Looking down, Coltyn managed to focus on the dog for the briefest of moments as he struggled with his attacker's staff at the same time. Needless to say, he was losing both battles, for as the beast punctured the leather of his boot, the man was able to yank his weapon free. Then, to make matters worse, the roof of the tavern was blown off and a spray of pulsating stars descended upon the pathetic Ravokian. No. Wait. That wasn't right at all. It wasn't the heavens crashing down upon him, just a stone, which had struck his temple ever-so-perfectly with enough force to send him crashing to the floor. The saying was certainly true. The bigger, the harder. Muscle man go boom. End of story. "Peeetch," he moaned as he held his head in his hands with his eyes shut tight, since the room had begin to tilt and blur. "Okay...you win...I'll shut up," he managed to mutter as he foolishly made an effort to look back up at his attacker only to feel his stomach pitch and his mind scream out in agony. "For the love...of the gods...above...you win," he continued to mutter. "Now, would you be kind enough to get your dog off of my ankle," he added with a drunken giggle, knowing full well that while it didn't hurt much right now, fully intoxicated, his ankle was going to be on fire in the morning.

[Clyde Sullins]

The stone struck the man with a dull thud, sending the mans hands from his staff, and sending the man falling like a tree that had been felled. Clyde could almost hear the creaking of timbers, and the sudden shifting of weight, at least in his imagination, as he teetered for a moment, and fell. He landed on the ground just like his imagined tree, coming to rest on the ground. However, he still had not been knocked out, which amazed Clyde. This man must have a skull of stone. Or maybe it was just muscle all the way through... He was aware enough to surrender, and to pleadingly ask for him to call his dog off. "Rye sit." Clyde spoke to his dog, who turned from the man, loosing his mouth from his foot, and coming to sit by Clyde. However he still kept his eyes on the man on the ground, who had attacked his master. Clyde just shook his head. What stupid things people did, when they were drunk. He had his own reasons for not doing so, his magic namely, but even if he did not have magic he still thought he would not get drunk. "Next time, just silence yourself when someone asks. Let it be a lesson to you." Clyde let out a huff of breath, and turned back to his ale... Which was almost gone. He turned his mind from the mass of man on the ground, wondering if he should just leave. He highly doubted the owner would tell him to, but after all this, he did not really feel like staying. He would let the stone clatter to the floor, pulling the res out of it, and slowly soaking it back into his skin. The bright silvery substance quite visible across the bar.

[Coltyn]

Staggering to his feet, Coltyn felt the room pitch below him as he came to his full height. Oh yeah, his head and his ankle were both going to be an absolute mess in the morning, if not before then. Grabbing the nearest stool, he unceremoniously plopped himself down upon it. The seat creaked under his sloppy weight. It serves me right, it does, for messing with a stranger and his dog. What was I thinking, asking for a fight like that? "Let me...let me buy you a drink," he then managed to offer as he reached for his coin pouch. "It's the least I can do for ruining your evening," he continued to mutter as he remained focused on the pouch, fighting a bit with the tie at the top. "You were nice enough to not split my head open, which I'm sure you are more than capable of doing, so, for that, I am thankful." Looking up from his place near the bar, Coltyn fought to focus on those standing and sitting before him. Was...was the guy even still here? Glancing around, it appeared that he was gone. Either that, or he had the ability to change his shape, which wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibilities, but highly unlikely. Oh well. So be it. "How about you move along, Baker?" he then heard the bartender question. "Or would you like to take a second whack at getting that pretty little melon of yours smashed open? I'm fairly certain there are a few blokes around here that wouldn't mind giving you a hand with that. It's not like you ruined just that one man's evening with your endless babbling." "Uh...no. I think I'm good," Coltyn muttered as he began to shuffle in the general direction of the front door, eyeing up one or two sneering patrons as he went. "Yeah, that's it! Get out and don't come back!" one barked. "You're kind aren't welcome here!" another spat. "I...I only wanted to..." "Yeah, we know!" a third patron snapped. "Ya just wanted to toast a bloody toast to your long lost brother! Well, good riddance to him and good riddance to you, too! This ain't no city of brotherly love, you know. It's the petchin' city of brotherly hate!" he howled as he tossed a bowl of peanut shells at the young Ravokian and cheered on the other patrons as they laughed him right out the door. "Don't ya forget that, Baker Boy! Ravok is the city of brotherly hate!"

[Alric Wilmot]

Grades Coltyn Detection +2 Storytelling +2 Brawling +3 Lores:The good ol' days, drunk fighting, City of Hate -Injury!-dog bite that if not treated has a chance to become infected. if treated, however it will heal in 3 weeks, until then you will walk with a limp -5 Ales (subtract 20 Copper Mizas from your ledger) Clyde Sullins Weapon (Staff) +3 Intimidation +1 Lores:The creation of Ice, Dirty fighting, Victor! -ale (subtract 4 Copper Mizas from your ledger) Notes Secret : Delete or edit your post in the Ravok Request thread. If you have any questions or comments, shoot me a PM.