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Another day in the books, going out for the evening, Torches illuminate the tavern we're seeking. A rogue walks in, says "Bartender please." "Give me the special, and I'll take one of these." A warrior sits waiting for drinks to arrive, He acts non chalant as to not seem contrived. When all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, A bottle is making its way through the air. It hits the rogue hard, glass falls to the carpet, He thinks to himself, "if my head was the target.." As soon as he turned to face his attacker, Somebody shouts out "it's the guy that we're after!" Warriors begin to rise up with their swords in their hands, The rogue knows he's doomed, if the situation withstands. He lets out a whistle, in comes a mage and a poet. "These guys are all screwed, and they don't even know it." The poet starts chanting and begins casting a curse, In unison the warriors begin to disperse. Then lunges start coming from every direction, Blow after blow, their timing, perfection. He pulls out his dagger from his weapon concealer "None of you fools ever think to hang out with a healer?" Their faces turn grim, you can hear grunts and groaning "Your lack of a brain is what has left you bemoaning." He puts his dagger away, pulls his fists out for fun, Close stands by the mage, ready to pick off those that run. A right hook to one, and a jab to the next. An occasional flying kick to the chest. It doesn't take long before the group is defeated, The rogue thanks his friends, as to not seem conceited. He and his group leave, just as quick as they came. The men on the floor, all tossed out with their shame. A old man sat and witnessed the whole sordid event, He remarked how the place filled back up, as quick as it went. Then turns to the bartender, "One hell of a fight.." The bartender replies "Should have been here last night." - Dycean | |