12-25-2015, 04:07 PM
"Gah... these drinks are damn strong."
Ballad slammed the wine glass down onto the countertop, some of the amber liquid sloshing onto it. The bartender hummed to himself as he grabbed the goblet, setting it with his tray filled with similar looking flagons. The bar was packed, with bodies of various sizes and shapes littered all around. The few tables within had around four to five different drunkards dozing off or trying to play games. It was a fairly busy day, especially for the bartender, who was desperately trying to hold off massive crowds of patrons as he collected and disposed of their refuse. The air stank of sweat, being limited in a place like this. Ballad could only assume that this was the aftermath of the Colosseum Tournament, which had ended just a day or so ago, as people were still talking about the events that took place there. He overheard a conversation about how a "red-hooded teenage kid" got killed, which elicited a frown from Ballad. As much as he disliked the arsonist, he had to give him some credit. He managed to get close to the end, which made his defeat by him a bit more bearable. Still wanted to be the one to put a bullet in his brain, though.
Roughly one hour past, and the large flock of citizens started to die down a little bit, ending with only a few people on almost every table, and it not being nearly as full. Ballad had kept the pace going by ordering more drinks, though he didn't even drink the vast majority them. He had lost his appetite for alcohol a good while prior. Besides, he didn't want to get drunk.
"Say, you plan on drinking the rest of that, Ballad? That's a good amount of Omnillium you'll be spending."
Ballad snapped his eyes back up, seeing the bartender on the other side. The bartender had a bushy mustache and a stocky build, as if he weight-lifted barrels of beer for a living. He had on a stained apron, and a white chef's hat that covered his messy black hair. He spoke in an odd country farmer accent that Ballad had a hard time taking seriously, especially when he was talking as enthusiastically as he always did.
"Oh... right. Here." Ballad replied, slipping around twenty gold pieces towards the opposite end of the counter, closing the black bag in the process. He had already blown through a quarter of the bag just on drinks. He hoped he still had enough for potential rent at a tavern, though given how much Koal had given him, he would probably have enough anyway for one day.
The bartender palmed the coins in his hand, stuffing them into a brown bag on his end. "You seem troubled about something, Ballad. What's eating you?"
"I'm fine, uh.."
"Call me Tender. It's what everyone else calls me."
"I'm fine, Tender."
"Sour over your loss?"
Ballad curled his finger over his cheek, resting his hand against it. "Yeah, sure. We can go with that."
"First round too. Must've been embarrassing."
"Yeah. It was." Ballad said, unamused. He fixed his gaze on the bartender as he leaned over the counter, rag in hand, and started rubbing it over some puddles and leftover scraps of meat. A group of around two patrons entered the bar before taking a seat at a nearby table.
"Saw that post about you on OmniTwitter. You caused quite a stir there. I wonder why..."
"I'm not going to tell you why. I don't want to, nor should I."
"To each his own, I suppose."
Another group of two patrons stroll into the bar, taking a moment to look around the bar before sitting down with the other two. One of them proceeded to raise his hand, gesturing for the bartender to come over.
"I'll be over there in a moment!" Tender shouted, moving past Ballad as he went over to the quadro. The gunsmith followed his movement towards the gang, watching them carefully. Aside from them staying in the same spot for little discernable reason, there was nothing exactly significant about them. He turned his head away, not paying much too attention to them.
When Tender returned, he said "Sorry about that. Being a bartender is a good workout, you know? Can build muscle just by walking to and from customers."
"Yeah..." the gunner replied, glancing back towards the group for a moment, "How did you get into this business, anyway? You don't strike me as a guy who would be serving drinks."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You look more like someone who crushes heads, Tender."
Tender peered down at his arms, which were admittedly muscular, and nodded. A smile cruised onto his face as he said "Maybe so. But hey, I enjoy this line of work. Though I didn't get into the business at first."
"Really?" Ballad said, feigning interest in the subject. A third group silently walked into the bar, this time with distinguishing features. One of them was fairly bulky, and stood tall over the other, more lean figure. A long cloak overlapped over his back, though no attempts were made to hide his face, which had wrinkles, and no facial hair. His eyes were green, and the top part of his head was bald, with the back part and the sides having long red hair that went down to his shoulders. His torso was impossible to discern beneath his cloak. The lean one held his hands together, twiddling his thumbs as he looked around impatiently, keeping his head down. His face was comparatively young, with blue eyes, and a single calico around his mouth. The older man crossed his arms, tapping the shoulder of the young one before pointing towards the group table. The young man jumped, only to nod as they walked towards it.
"Really. I didn't have a whole lot of interest in it at first, but I first got experience over a bet. A few years back, a friend of mine bet me a dozen gold pieces I couldn't be a better bartender than him. Being the young lad I was, I took the bet. Needless to say, I won. I even keep some of the bet money in my pockets as proof."
"Hmm..." Ballad muttered, leaning forward onto the counter. He wasn't feeling too good about the group, and decided it would be best if he didn't act suspicious.
"Anyways, where have you been for the past few days? Recovering from your injuries?"
"Nah. Been in the forest, living in a tree with a bunch of grass around it. Tried to use it for traps. It... didn't really work."
"Traps? For who?"
"Best you don't ask."
Tender raised his hand, index finger pointed the ceiling, prepared to inquire on this point. However, he noticed that the older man had his hand outstretched, beckoning him. Tender strode out from his spot, bending forward towards the man once he reached the table. In response, the man reached into his cloak, pulling out a picture. Some words were spoken, resulting in Tender shaking his head before heading back to the counter.
Ballad watched the whole thing, and he let out a gulp once the picture was pulled out. He couldn't quite make out the description, but his gut was telling him it was-
"You might want to leave." Tender said sternly. He had pulled Ballad forward by the shoulder, which given the circumstances the gunsmith didn't mind too much. The sharpshooter stared at Tender for a little bit, seeing concern in his eyes before whispering "Right..." and standing up from his bar stool. He started to saunter towards the exit, trying to look like some regular schmoe who just wanted to drink. Hopefully, with the crowd already dispersing, he could leave before they caught wind of his scent.
"Hey." A voice called to his right. Ballad remained still, twitching his eyes towards his right to see two men walking towards him. One of them was the wrinkly-faced man, while the other wore civilian clothing similar to every other Camelot commoner. Whoever they were, they wanted to blend in.
Ballad clenched his fists, taking in a deep breath. Damn it all... he thought to himself as he hesitantly turned to his right, meeting the two face-to-face.
Without warning, the older man gripped his cloak from the front, tossing it off of him, revealing a full set of black plate armor. On his right side was a sheath containing a large sword, which he quickly pulled out. It was over three feet long, with a steel shine that glinted in the sunlight that shone through the door.
Ballad took a step back, shock on his face as the man said "Forgive us, but you must die." before swiping the sword downwards.
Only to go flying backwards as a sharp crack erupted from his position. Right in the middle of the group of six. They all turned towards the sound of the noise to see the green man standing there, a smoking gun in the middle of his sleeve.
Knew that would be needed one day.
---------------------------------------------------------
"I-It's Ballad! G-Get him!" one of the men shouted. And soon, the entire table had drawn their weapons. Some knives, one sword, one axe. The partisan closest to him had also taken out a knife, and was fully prepared to use it.
Ballad snarled, throwing his left hand forward, his single shot pistol connecting with his opponents face. He flew back a bit, shouting in pain as he stumbled onto his knees. Ballad was about to get moving when he felt a pressure push him forward. Everyone who wasn't trying to kill him was trying to escape. Screams shook up the bar like an earthquake as the brawl began.
The gunner dropped his single shot onto the ground, kicking the nearby shank-wielder into the ground. He pulled out his revolver, seeing the trio closing in, melee weapons in hand and ready to kill. He pulled back the hammer of the gun, firing into the onslaught. One fell forwards, grabbing his neck, blood occasionally gushing out from his neck as he tried desperately to breathe.
Ballad quickly ran towards the bar counter in a diagonal manner, punching one of the bandits in the face as he went past them. He rolled over the counter at the very left of the bar, readying his revolver for another shot as he took cover. Commands were issued from the other side as the gunner looked over the counter, seeing an axe man assaulting his position. One shot was all it took for him to fall, his chest bleeding.
Before long, the remaining attackers were flipping tables, trying to take cover from Ballad's gun. The green man fired twice more, one bullet grazing the top of an overturned table, extracting a scream from behind it. The second blew off the dome of the partisan knife-wielder he had kicked. He pulled back the hammer again, swiveling his revolver to point towards a charging attacker, though he ended up tackling him before he could fire.
They fell backwards into the wall, some bottles of alcohol landing on them before crashing into the ground, spilling liquid everywhere. The gunsmith pushed the man off of him, growling like an animal as his right fist crashed into him with a haymaker. The man's head crashed into the shelves next to him, collapsing into the ground.
The winter soldier span around, only catching a blur of motion before a large gash formed across his chest, cutting up his snow-white armor underneath. He stumbled backwards, applying pressure on his wound as he glowered murderously at his attacker. It was the lean one, holding a small, bloody sword. He was shaking, as if surprised he even had the ability of hurting him.
"Why you!" Ballad yelled, pouncing towards the man before feeling a hot pike get shoved into his left hip, earning a cry. He elbowed backwards, barely missing the attacker behind him as he held him still.
"ENOUGH!"
A loud, commanding voice rang throughout the bar. Ballad and his assailants turned their heads towards the risen leader, a single pock mark in the middle of his plate armor.
"Should've known you were more accurate with that than we thought, Ballad. That surely is a high caliber revolver." said the leader. His voice held an accent similar to that of a Scotsman.
"Go fuck yourself." Ballad threatened, only to get a knee to the back from the bandit behind him. He continued trying to struggle as their leader moved over the counter in a confident manner. He sheathed his sword, pulling out a circle. It bellowed out black smoke, with a red rune that consisted of a bunch of unusual shapes and lines glowing in the middle of it. The armored man strolled forward, saying "Sorry, but we have to." before proceeding to try to shove it into Ballad's wound.
A loud snap went off somewhere behind Ballad and his captor. A crossbow bolt sailed through the knifeman's head, his grip on Ballad loosening before falling to the ground. The leaner swordsman yelped, ducking down behind the counter as Tender walked out from behind it. The leader slowly raised his hands in a surrendering motion, following Tender as he strode to their side, his crossbow aimed at them.
"If you all think you can interrupt my business with your antics like this, than you are all in for a rough ride. Either get the hell out of my bar, or I kill you. End of story."
"Listen," the leader said, slowly vaulting over the counter to walk towards him. "We don't mean to cause any problems. We are only here for the green man. He has a bounty on his head, and we only want to collect it. Can you understand that?"
Dammit... they weren't kidding.
Impulsively, Ballad leaped over the countertop, charging towards the bar exit. The lean man shook as he leaped, not even bothering to follow. The leader, however, started forward towards him before another bolt deflected off of his armor, sending it into a nearby wall. In retaliation, he pulled out his sword and wacked the hilt of it against the bartender as he tried to load another bolt.
Tender fell, unconscious. The leader looked down at his body, smiling a bit as an idea struck his mind.
"Jensen, get up! I need you!"
"What is it, Agern?"
Ballad slammed the wine glass down onto the countertop, some of the amber liquid sloshing onto it. The bartender hummed to himself as he grabbed the goblet, setting it with his tray filled with similar looking flagons. The bar was packed, with bodies of various sizes and shapes littered all around. The few tables within had around four to five different drunkards dozing off or trying to play games. It was a fairly busy day, especially for the bartender, who was desperately trying to hold off massive crowds of patrons as he collected and disposed of their refuse. The air stank of sweat, being limited in a place like this. Ballad could only assume that this was the aftermath of the Colosseum Tournament, which had ended just a day or so ago, as people were still talking about the events that took place there. He overheard a conversation about how a "red-hooded teenage kid" got killed, which elicited a frown from Ballad. As much as he disliked the arsonist, he had to give him some credit. He managed to get close to the end, which made his defeat by him a bit more bearable. Still wanted to be the one to put a bullet in his brain, though.
Roughly one hour past, and the large flock of citizens started to die down a little bit, ending with only a few people on almost every table, and it not being nearly as full. Ballad had kept the pace going by ordering more drinks, though he didn't even drink the vast majority them. He had lost his appetite for alcohol a good while prior. Besides, he didn't want to get drunk.
"Say, you plan on drinking the rest of that, Ballad? That's a good amount of Omnillium you'll be spending."
Ballad snapped his eyes back up, seeing the bartender on the other side. The bartender had a bushy mustache and a stocky build, as if he weight-lifted barrels of beer for a living. He had on a stained apron, and a white chef's hat that covered his messy black hair. He spoke in an odd country farmer accent that Ballad had a hard time taking seriously, especially when he was talking as enthusiastically as he always did.
"Oh... right. Here." Ballad replied, slipping around twenty gold pieces towards the opposite end of the counter, closing the black bag in the process. He had already blown through a quarter of the bag just on drinks. He hoped he still had enough for potential rent at a tavern, though given how much Koal had given him, he would probably have enough anyway for one day.
The bartender palmed the coins in his hand, stuffing them into a brown bag on his end. "You seem troubled about something, Ballad. What's eating you?"
"I'm fine, uh.."
"Call me Tender. It's what everyone else calls me."
"I'm fine, Tender."
"Sour over your loss?"
Ballad curled his finger over his cheek, resting his hand against it. "Yeah, sure. We can go with that."
"First round too. Must've been embarrassing."
"Yeah. It was." Ballad said, unamused. He fixed his gaze on the bartender as he leaned over the counter, rag in hand, and started rubbing it over some puddles and leftover scraps of meat. A group of around two patrons entered the bar before taking a seat at a nearby table.
"Saw that post about you on OmniTwitter. You caused quite a stir there. I wonder why..."
"I'm not going to tell you why. I don't want to, nor should I."
"To each his own, I suppose."
Another group of two patrons stroll into the bar, taking a moment to look around the bar before sitting down with the other two. One of them proceeded to raise his hand, gesturing for the bartender to come over.
"I'll be over there in a moment!" Tender shouted, moving past Ballad as he went over to the quadro. The gunsmith followed his movement towards the gang, watching them carefully. Aside from them staying in the same spot for little discernable reason, there was nothing exactly significant about them. He turned his head away, not paying much too attention to them.
When Tender returned, he said "Sorry about that. Being a bartender is a good workout, you know? Can build muscle just by walking to and from customers."
"Yeah..." the gunner replied, glancing back towards the group for a moment, "How did you get into this business, anyway? You don't strike me as a guy who would be serving drinks."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You look more like someone who crushes heads, Tender."
Tender peered down at his arms, which were admittedly muscular, and nodded. A smile cruised onto his face as he said "Maybe so. But hey, I enjoy this line of work. Though I didn't get into the business at first."
"Really?" Ballad said, feigning interest in the subject. A third group silently walked into the bar, this time with distinguishing features. One of them was fairly bulky, and stood tall over the other, more lean figure. A long cloak overlapped over his back, though no attempts were made to hide his face, which had wrinkles, and no facial hair. His eyes were green, and the top part of his head was bald, with the back part and the sides having long red hair that went down to his shoulders. His torso was impossible to discern beneath his cloak. The lean one held his hands together, twiddling his thumbs as he looked around impatiently, keeping his head down. His face was comparatively young, with blue eyes, and a single calico around his mouth. The older man crossed his arms, tapping the shoulder of the young one before pointing towards the group table. The young man jumped, only to nod as they walked towards it.
"Really. I didn't have a whole lot of interest in it at first, but I first got experience over a bet. A few years back, a friend of mine bet me a dozen gold pieces I couldn't be a better bartender than him. Being the young lad I was, I took the bet. Needless to say, I won. I even keep some of the bet money in my pockets as proof."
"Hmm..." Ballad muttered, leaning forward onto the counter. He wasn't feeling too good about the group, and decided it would be best if he didn't act suspicious.
"Anyways, where have you been for the past few days? Recovering from your injuries?"
"Nah. Been in the forest, living in a tree with a bunch of grass around it. Tried to use it for traps. It... didn't really work."
"Traps? For who?"
"Best you don't ask."
Tender raised his hand, index finger pointed the ceiling, prepared to inquire on this point. However, he noticed that the older man had his hand outstretched, beckoning him. Tender strode out from his spot, bending forward towards the man once he reached the table. In response, the man reached into his cloak, pulling out a picture. Some words were spoken, resulting in Tender shaking his head before heading back to the counter.
Ballad watched the whole thing, and he let out a gulp once the picture was pulled out. He couldn't quite make out the description, but his gut was telling him it was-
"You might want to leave." Tender said sternly. He had pulled Ballad forward by the shoulder, which given the circumstances the gunsmith didn't mind too much. The sharpshooter stared at Tender for a little bit, seeing concern in his eyes before whispering "Right..." and standing up from his bar stool. He started to saunter towards the exit, trying to look like some regular schmoe who just wanted to drink. Hopefully, with the crowd already dispersing, he could leave before they caught wind of his scent.
"Hey." A voice called to his right. Ballad remained still, twitching his eyes towards his right to see two men walking towards him. One of them was the wrinkly-faced man, while the other wore civilian clothing similar to every other Camelot commoner. Whoever they were, they wanted to blend in.
Ballad clenched his fists, taking in a deep breath. Damn it all... he thought to himself as he hesitantly turned to his right, meeting the two face-to-face.
Without warning, the older man gripped his cloak from the front, tossing it off of him, revealing a full set of black plate armor. On his right side was a sheath containing a large sword, which he quickly pulled out. It was over three feet long, with a steel shine that glinted in the sunlight that shone through the door.
Ballad took a step back, shock on his face as the man said "Forgive us, but you must die." before swiping the sword downwards.
Only to go flying backwards as a sharp crack erupted from his position. Right in the middle of the group of six. They all turned towards the sound of the noise to see the green man standing there, a smoking gun in the middle of his sleeve.
Knew that would be needed one day.
---------------------------------------------------------
"I-It's Ballad! G-Get him!" one of the men shouted. And soon, the entire table had drawn their weapons. Some knives, one sword, one axe. The partisan closest to him had also taken out a knife, and was fully prepared to use it.
Ballad snarled, throwing his left hand forward, his single shot pistol connecting with his opponents face. He flew back a bit, shouting in pain as he stumbled onto his knees. Ballad was about to get moving when he felt a pressure push him forward. Everyone who wasn't trying to kill him was trying to escape. Screams shook up the bar like an earthquake as the brawl began.
The gunner dropped his single shot onto the ground, kicking the nearby shank-wielder into the ground. He pulled out his revolver, seeing the trio closing in, melee weapons in hand and ready to kill. He pulled back the hammer of the gun, firing into the onslaught. One fell forwards, grabbing his neck, blood occasionally gushing out from his neck as he tried desperately to breathe.
Ballad quickly ran towards the bar counter in a diagonal manner, punching one of the bandits in the face as he went past them. He rolled over the counter at the very left of the bar, readying his revolver for another shot as he took cover. Commands were issued from the other side as the gunner looked over the counter, seeing an axe man assaulting his position. One shot was all it took for him to fall, his chest bleeding.
Before long, the remaining attackers were flipping tables, trying to take cover from Ballad's gun. The green man fired twice more, one bullet grazing the top of an overturned table, extracting a scream from behind it. The second blew off the dome of the partisan knife-wielder he had kicked. He pulled back the hammer again, swiveling his revolver to point towards a charging attacker, though he ended up tackling him before he could fire.
They fell backwards into the wall, some bottles of alcohol landing on them before crashing into the ground, spilling liquid everywhere. The gunsmith pushed the man off of him, growling like an animal as his right fist crashed into him with a haymaker. The man's head crashed into the shelves next to him, collapsing into the ground.
The winter soldier span around, only catching a blur of motion before a large gash formed across his chest, cutting up his snow-white armor underneath. He stumbled backwards, applying pressure on his wound as he glowered murderously at his attacker. It was the lean one, holding a small, bloody sword. He was shaking, as if surprised he even had the ability of hurting him.
"Why you!" Ballad yelled, pouncing towards the man before feeling a hot pike get shoved into his left hip, earning a cry. He elbowed backwards, barely missing the attacker behind him as he held him still.
"ENOUGH!"
A loud, commanding voice rang throughout the bar. Ballad and his assailants turned their heads towards the risen leader, a single pock mark in the middle of his plate armor.
"Should've known you were more accurate with that than we thought, Ballad. That surely is a high caliber revolver." said the leader. His voice held an accent similar to that of a Scotsman.
"Go fuck yourself." Ballad threatened, only to get a knee to the back from the bandit behind him. He continued trying to struggle as their leader moved over the counter in a confident manner. He sheathed his sword, pulling out a circle. It bellowed out black smoke, with a red rune that consisted of a bunch of unusual shapes and lines glowing in the middle of it. The armored man strolled forward, saying "Sorry, but we have to." before proceeding to try to shove it into Ballad's wound.
A loud snap went off somewhere behind Ballad and his captor. A crossbow bolt sailed through the knifeman's head, his grip on Ballad loosening before falling to the ground. The leaner swordsman yelped, ducking down behind the counter as Tender walked out from behind it. The leader slowly raised his hands in a surrendering motion, following Tender as he strode to their side, his crossbow aimed at them.
"If you all think you can interrupt my business with your antics like this, than you are all in for a rough ride. Either get the hell out of my bar, or I kill you. End of story."
"Listen," the leader said, slowly vaulting over the counter to walk towards him. "We don't mean to cause any problems. We are only here for the green man. He has a bounty on his head, and we only want to collect it. Can you understand that?"
Dammit... they weren't kidding.
Impulsively, Ballad leaped over the countertop, charging towards the bar exit. The lean man shook as he leaped, not even bothering to follow. The leader, however, started forward towards him before another bolt deflected off of his armor, sending it into a nearby wall. In retaliation, he pulled out his sword and wacked the hilt of it against the bartender as he tried to load another bolt.
Tender fell, unconscious. The leader looked down at his body, smiling a bit as an idea struck his mind.
"Jensen, get up! I need you!"
"What is it, Agern?"
C&C Thread
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New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
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