Last Call
Although the path was perilous, the lone figure braved her course, narrowly tipping several times into a pit to meet her doom at the hands of murderous cod. No, that is incorrect. The cod are in fact species of fluke who are quite tame. It should be noted, however, that they are rather slimy and would not be too pleasant to touch. Walking the slim ledge on dainty toes shrouded by a flowing, cyan gown, the golden masked Innocent made her way to a door, a gate, a window perhaps? It was hard to tell. What was certain was the vast fortune held within the ... drawer? Oh, the room, of course. The treasure room with the window was not unguarded. In case any passed the trial of the slippery flukes, two, no, three? Yes, three large dogs kept watch over the- they are not dogs? More of a cat? Okay, let me see here... They have some sort of claw, or do they like to see if melon are fresh? A clue might help. Big ears? No, pointed- horns! They are the devil kittens of Tamnogrial! ... Yes, that place does not exist, I just invented it. I mean, it could exist, but we will not know that until it is actually found. How about another hint? They like strike themselves on the face?
"This was a bad idea from the start," roared Sir Kalot in protest to Madam Quae's pantomiming as he rubbed his aching temples between two thick fingers. Stopping in the middle of her expressionistic story telling, she fumed wordlessly at the Avenger through her plated face. Without signaling a break from her tale, she horribly confused the interrupting Lunatic who had been relaying the events of her saga to those not caring to watch or pay attention.
"So, they ain't a species of penguin, but actually a type o' ... shakin' fist?" constructed Bimblesnaff from the actions. "Whe'e is this strange world ya went to?"
"She went to the store, you idiot," commented Xech from the far end of the bar. "She dodged past some pervert, went to the butcher, and purchased a block of bacon filled ham. Gah!" the Nemesis snapped in annoyance, "It is so simple!"
"I'd like to know where she's been stashing all that fat," muttered Anph into her mug after passing a glance at the frail figure. Returning from her sip, the Vagabond found herself directly confronted by slim lady having been forgetful that her hearing was not hindered by the golden encasement. Lowering her eyes, she continued to calmly speak against her as if she was not there. "Oh, I guess that's where it all is. I mean, it explains your wardrobe. Why else would someone called the 'Innocent' be showing off so much cleavage?"
"Cat fight! Cat fight!" roared the anxious goblin, springing from his stool to the best seat in the house, which, to him, was beneath the combatants. After driving a knuckle straight down into the maniac's skull, Quae slowly raised her hand up, extending her index finger in a gesture begging a brief pause before her retaliation to let the bar quell down.
"Woo! Yeah! Get it on!" hooted Bimblesnaff one last time from a safer vantage point out of their arm span before, for once, being quiet. Gradually retracting her index finger, a much swifter action withdrew her nefarious finger from her clutched hand.
"Hey," complained Anph, "that's not too innocent, either." Before even finishing that statement, Quae drew up her other hand, mirroring the single digit salutation.
"Oh, she showed you," managed to comment Kalot amidst his outpouring of laughter.
"No! The only thing she has proven," the Vagabond explained, "is that she cannot think of anything of wit or merit to return with."
"Yeah, like that's not said by anyone how just got burned!" blurted out the goblin, finding a second collision between his face and a woman's fist.
"It is about time," the demonic figure hissed from the shadows. "I was wondering when it was that the entertainment would begin." Turning himself around in his seat, he watched on with glee as Anph pulverized the Ghobling with her bare hands while kneeling atop him. "Do not be afraid to use your nails, girl. You either, woman in black." As the words hit the dark robed wanderer, her rage was brought into a higher state.
"My name is Anph, you morons," wailed the Vagabond. "Why can't you remember that?" The beating worsened in her heightened hatred, just as Xech had expected her to react to his prodding.
"Why... is it... that ya're... even pun... chin' me?" the goblin managed to squeak out in between blows. "'Tis... not like... 'twas me... that did... anythin'... to start wit'!"
"Have you no dignity?" Anph meaninglessly asked before remember just who it was she spoke to, keeping up the rhythm of her hits. "I'm not gonna hit a girl. That'd just be mean."
"Why do you hate us so much?" asked Kalot, in the meanwhile, sliding his glass and place closer to the Nemesis while still keeping focused on and enjoying the brawl, if that term can even be applied to a one-sided massacre.
"Hate you?" the fiend rhetorically questioned. "I am the enemy of all! I do not favor hating anyone above any other worthless soul." His attention was brought to the Lunatic. "Well, maybe there is one exception."
"If that were the case," added the Avenger, pulling the conversation back on course, "then why do you only pester us? What about all these other people?" He swept his massive arm through the air, signifying the occupants of the tavern. "They exist. Bother and loath them every now and then."
"What 'others' is it that you speak of, warrior?" replied the bandaged creep, never taking his eyes off the fight.
"Are you blind?" asked the bulging knight. "Maybe all of these people in this very pub-" Scanning the scenery, Sir Kalot only spotted the pale bodies of men with slit necks and profuse amounts of pooled blood. So quantitative was the sanguine fluid, that a splattered trail wound about the tavern floor, stretching from patron to patron. Following the course, his eyes brought him to a blood soaked talon clutching an ale stein, wrapped in drenched bandages right before himself.
"You can prove nothing," Xech merely spoke as he continued to enjoy his drink along with the pummeling. He smiled beneath his tattered coverings as the smaller, more delicate of the fighters was pinned against the ground, taking a series of direct punches in the face by Anph.
