Goblin bartender looked at Grimgor, with all his seriousness. Than slowly opened his mouth, asking: "You ordered milk?". Then a burst of laughter exploded from his tiny little head, along with some of the other pirate costumers of the inn. "Milk? You want milk?" he yelled, between his laughters, which he barely could control, and then made his joke: "If you want milk, you can go milk it out of that cow over there!" he yelled, still laughing hard, as he pointed over the tauren druid. Rage bursted in Grimgor's mind. He shouted "Why you iggy-belly faced dim-fish!" and in a sudden move caught the goblin's neck with his palm. Unexpecting bartender had his both hands full with mugs, so he could not resist the sudden pull to the bench. He shut his eyes as his face moved towards the bench, but his expectation of a face smash did not occur as the dwarf stopped the move when his face had less than one inch left to the surface. Opening his eyes cautiously, goblin started flattering him for an easy-go: "Oi! Oi matey! No need to be so meshy-smashy now eh? Ye ordered a milk, so a milk it is!" he said.
Grimgor slowly let his head go, and suddenly realised he was no longer in the safe city of Stormwind's Golden Keg: No guards were here to take him back to cathedral if he got involved in a bar fight, it was more rather like he would get a stab of a half-broken bottle between the ribs. He tried to sate his rage and suppress his hatred for goblins.
"Ye know, we've a frost magey to keep things cold back 'ere. Ice cold milk comin' up!" said the bartender, trying to joke while moving back in the kitchen to bring up the unexpected order.
Grimgor glanced back in a second, as the huge tauren rose up. His right hand went to his belt unintentionally, hoovering over his Jambiya. "I know not what is going on. What plan they plot? I care not. If they lay a finger. Even a finger! I shall protect that human hunter. From any harm." he thought. But he was confused. A worgen with a tauren? They must have been druids, of the Circle. Still he could not understand why an Alliance member would be hostile to a human. Druid or not, he did not care. He never trusted fully to the worgens anyway, because of his memories noire. But his nerves relaxed as the tauren made a calm respond in a language he could understand.
"Bloodthristly lot, they are. Same stench. Same lust for kill. Even now they speak of killing someone. Someone of my kin." he thought, focusing his mind on worgens. Expecting an hostility any moment, he blamed himself again for entering such a light-forsaken place.
Last edited by Mengucekli; 2012-08-27 at 05:12 PM.
Christopher met the worgens gaze, and voiced a quiet "Hear hear" as the other worgen took a drink. Noticing the other worgen's hand movement to that of his blade, Christopher could only grin at the thought of being attacked by a dagger. Poisoned or not, such a weapon would be of little threat used on him aware, with his knowledge of nature. Taking a swallow from his own wine, he listened to the question, and replied with a slight grin. "Simply the way you stated your objective, in a manner I'm fairly sure all in the Tavern misunderstood, such as your friend here." He motioned to the female worgen. "Other than that, the horse..." Hiss speech broke off as his attention went to the commotion at the bar. That strange dwarf had just about strangled the bartender. Oh boy, he sure takes his milk seriously. Christopher thought, now laughing again. Though I care less about goblins, that was quite a sight to behold Speaking in a bit more than a whisper, so only the other worgen might hear, he then made a comment about the "calm, caring, and wise priests of the light".
Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-08-27 at 05:11 PM.
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "Hmmph," he said again, watching the druid's eyes carefully. He knows about it, he thought, referring to his dagger. He can tell it's poisoned, but he is a druid, after all.
Out of the corner of his eye, the rogue mercenary noticed a half-shattered bottle, a small puddle of ale underneath it. It sat dormant right beside his left foot, just underneath the table. If he wants any trouble, I'm sure he might see my dagger coming. I doubt he'd see the bottle, though. Kick it up in his face, spring, jab under the ribs . . . Druid or not, a wound like that'll kill you instantly. Especially with the toxin and enchantments. But he didn't necessarily want to start a fight, nor participate in one at the moment. He felt no reason to attack, and so sat how he had been, arms crossed across his massive chest. "How exactly would that manner be, if you don't mind me asking?" he murmured, his words more slurred than before. The druid before him, sharp and crystal clear moments ago, was now little more than a fuzzy black image, as was the rest of the objects and people in his vision. Not good . . .
Jorn, keeping an eye out for his reckless friend, watched as the two male worgen conversed. Noticing both of them eying each other, as if preparing for an attack, he was slightly worried, but was also sure they just both felt the need to feel tough. Still, the Tauren moved his chair to be flat on the floor, ready if need by to jump in and break up a fight. Taking a moment to feel the nature around him, the expended some energy to enlarge a root under the Tavern and grow it to a position underneath the two worgen. Should anything arise, Jorn was prepared to raise it, in effect breaking up combat long enough to drag Chris out.
Christopher was far too busy watching the other worgen to register the change of natural energy under him. He noticed the others eyes move down, as if planning something. Christopher, however, was still confident, how could he not be. In a second, I could be in the form of a bear with fur tough as metal, a cat with reflexes quick as lightning, or even a bird, small and easily able to evade any attack. Even an overgrown chicken, as he referred to Moonkin, with their many slick and hardened feathers, would make quick work of this worgen. As his thoughts played through, he saw the worgen relax a bit, seemingly uninterested in actually starting a confrontation. Wise move, but lets not trust him too easily. Listening as he was asked a question, Christopher was about to respond, when all of a sudden he noticed the other worgen seem to shake a little. Looking in his eyes, they began to cloud up a bit. All of his previous hostility and distrust instantly vanished. Whether the worgen's issue steamed from his drink of not, Chris did not know, but quickly set down his glass on the table before leaning closer to the other worgen. "Hold on there, what is wrong? Are you okay? You seem to be loosing yourself here. Would you like a hand?"
Jorn noticed the worgen's shutter as well, and was already standing up and making his way over as Chris started to move closer.
As suddenly as he was completely coherent and confident, he could barely see. His senses were buzzing, and his movements were slow and unsteady. The . . . Hell is wrong with me?
His blurred gaze landed on the empty mug, and he felt a fury well inside of him as he tried to regain control of his own will. Oh, that is definitely not good. Bloody hell . . .
He heard the worgen druid ask him a question, but couldn't even get an answer out. His tongue felt like it was made of cotton, and his entire body felt numb. His mind told him to get up, to draw his weapons, to do anything, but his body clearly wasn't in the mood to respond. He sat, motionless in the chair, swaying ever so slightly, his eyes unfocused. And here I thought I was safe, he thought to himself, his heart rate speeding up and the breath coming in and out of him faster than before. Thought I was safe . . . How bloody wrong. Question is . . . Who wants me dead? I've barely made a name for myself, and I already have enemies poisoning my drinks? He knew, in part, the effects on him were partially due to the massive amount of alcohol he had just drunk. But he had been poisoned before, and knew what those effects felt like, too. Whoever decided to do this, is one helluva smart assassin. Problem is . . . He used the wrong damn poison. His thoughts were still clear, but everything his mind was, his body was not, nor were his senses or vision. Paralysis. Smart. Maybe he doesn't want me dead after all. Maybe he wants me for something else . . .
He tried to focus on the worgen, but couldn't. His vision kept getting blurrier, and his normal self-control was starting to wane. This is not good. Guess it was a smart idea not to start a fight with the druid. I highly doubt I'd have beat him. Especially now.
Much to surprise of the other patrons of the tavern, Grimgor left his seat slowly, a glass of ice cold milk in his hand. Walked slowly to the feinting worgen, shooed away the tauren druid as he walked by, telling "Make way, you tail-pot waggabag." and slowly passing him by. Under curious spectation of others, he came near the ill worgen.
"They are the King's subjects after all." he said himself, "Can't let Horde toadies. Can't while i can. Help.".
He leaned on the worgen, while still holding the milk unspilled, and closely checked him. Looked closely at his eyes, around his wolfish mouth, and his nose. Came as close as someone who would kiss him, but rather took a deep sniff. Suddenly rose his head, turned to the curious table dwellers and said "Flea-bag is deadrotten drunk, that is." calmly, and added "That should wake him up." while dumping the cold milk all over the head of Alex. Turned and moved back to his stool, obviously unsuspectful of any poison whatsoever.
Last edited by Mengucekli; 2012-08-27 at 07:10 PM.
Now noticing the worgen's stiffness and apparent panic, Jorn hurried over towards the worgen, guessing some foul play was in the air. Preparing a detoxifying and regenerative spell, Jorn was almost to the worgen in trouble as suddenly the dwarf from the bar pushed past him. the dwarf looked to be kissing him, as suddenly he dumped his glass of milk over the head of the worgen. Listening to the dwarfs broken speech, Jorn was still unsure as to whether the issue was just too much drink or not, and cast his silent spell anyways. He then stayed there, waiting to see what effect the two antidotes would have on the worgen, and if he was now safe or not.
Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-08-27 at 07:17 PM.
Reason: Darn you silly dwarf, sneak in on my save while taking a darned phone call >.<
The milk splattered all over Alexander's head; an action that was barely even acknowledged. The panic was welling up inside of him now. He'd been caught unawares; his overconfidence now a weakness. He remembered, years ago, when he was with his close friend, Mayson. He remembered the boy's wisdom, and remembered his final words to Alex: "You're confident, Alex; that's good. You are confident in yourself, in your prowess, and your skills. But, just remember; never become too proud of yourself, nor arrogant in your abilities, for it will be your downfall." The night those words had been spoken, was followed by the morning when Alexander awoke to find his friend missing.
He had done it; done exactly what Mayson had warmed him not to do. Even though he was starting to panic, and though he was still paralyzed, he quickly ran through a mental list of people he had encountered since the Cataclysm, other than fellow Gilneans. Nobody I can think of. I haven't made a name for myself yet, nor have I really made any true enemies. So . . . Who the hell would do this, and in such a place as this???
Then, suddenly, he could feel something - he wasn't sure what - take over his actions. His vision turned from the blurry images to a clear, vivid green, and he could see clearly. However, his body still refused to listen to his brain, even as it calmly demanded parts of his body to move. Whatever magic effect was upon him, it was slowly cleansing the effects of the toxin. First, his vision, then his senses; he could smell, hear and feel again, one by one, as they returned to him, as sharp and keen as ever. The green veil was still upon his vision as he slowly had a feeling for each part of his body. He attempted to curl his fingers in to a fist, and they did so, slowly, as if he was in someone else's body, and was unaccustomed to it. He could feel the ice cold milk soaked in to his shaggy hair and leather armour, and growled softly, surprised. It was much colder than he'd originally anticipated. Then, as if a drape was slowly being opened, the green veil was lifted, and he could see perfectly well once again. He felt his hands trembling, and growled again, forcing them to be still. He curled them in to fists, and realized he was still sitting on the chair, his arms hanging, head lolled back. He lifted it, his neck stiff, and rolled it. The resulting crack echoed throughout the tavern, the sound somehow rather loud. He rolled his shoulders, next, cracking the tendons in them. To anyone else, the noises would have been disgusting and most likely shuddering, but the actions felt good to him. He stood, unsteadily, his balance still a little off. He looked around slowly, analyzing each of the tavern's patrons closely. Both druids were standing near him, the tauren in a half-moving position, the worgen almost calm but still worried. The dwarf had gone back to his seat, and Alexander realized it must have been he who poured the milk on his head. He didn't care; he could move. He could see, hear, smell, taste, and think clearly. He guessed one of the druids must have casted a cleansing spell on him, but reached for the jeweled dagger he had been holding earlier. He twirled it so it was in his hand, point facing downward, and looked around, weary.
"All right," he said, his words clear in his deep, growling tone. "Whoever the hell decided it'd be a bright idea to poison my drink . . . " He trailed off, looking around again, then plunged the dagger in to the table, wood splintering and pieces of it flying. "Show your bloody face and don't be a coward."
"Huh," a musical, calm and most definitely female voice said, breaking the sudden silence. Glancing around in surprise, Alexander's gaze rested on a slim, muscular female Blood Elf. She was dressed in rather revealing leather armour, with a cloak and hood in bright crimson. On the back of it, she bore the crest of Silvermoon, and her long, mildly-curly brown hair was undone and flowing freely down her back, covering the Silvermoon's crest a little. A bow crafted to look like a pheonix was strapped to her shoulder, and he could see a second leather strap, no doubt her quiver. Two curved shortswords of elven make were sheathed on her hip, and beyond that, he could see no other visible weapons.
Her soft features were passive, but her clear, emerald eyes showed a cold deadliness to them that should have warned Alexander that what he was about to do was wrong. However, more overcome with fury than sense, the worgen rogue twirled his dagger and threw it directly at the Blood Elf, causing the bartender to cry out in surprise and hide behind his counter.
Unfortunately, the blood elf was quicker, and caught the knife in mid-air, her slim, gloved fingers holding it by the flat of its blade. She inspected it carefully before setting it down on a nearby table, and crossing her arms, her posture still as calm as a still pond. "Nice dagger," she commented, her tone light with sarcasm and more amused. "Bet it cost you a lot of gold, huh. That's going to be a saddening loss." Who the hell is this girl, and why did she try to kill me? "You picked the wrong rogue to piss off, elf," Alexander snarled back, clenching his hands in to fists. The blood elf didn't even move, nor did she seem to notice the threatening gesture and tone in his deep voice. One would have thought she'd have been intimidated by the young rogue's size and strength, but she still stood, staring in to his eyes impassively, more entertained than worried. She stepped forward, her movements fluid and graceful, grabbing his dagger as she walked by it. She twirled it in the same manner that he had, before stowing it away on her belt. "It'd have been a bit easier to take him if you hadn't interfered, tauren," she said, directing her words to the druid who had cleansed Alexander of the paralysis.
Jorn smiled after seeing the worgen suddenly able to move again. He was about to question the now animate worgen when suddenly he grabbed his dagger and made his bold statement. Even more surprising, a Blood Elf appeared following it. Coming to the same conclusion as the worgen, Jorn immediately turned to face her, watching the confrontation. Listening to her declare her own guilt in the matter, Jorn found himself siding with the worgen, despite having no knowledge of the matter between the two of them. Looking at Chris, noticing he was looking right back, they both realized they came to the same conclusion. Chris stepped up, standing at full worgen height, directly in front of the recently poisoned worgen. Even with the regenerative spell, there was little chance he was back to full strength so soon. Chris then took another step forward, and another, walking his way closer to the Blood Elf. Stopping a few feet in front of her, he barks out "Now that your original plan is foiled, hold a minute. What is the reason behind your actions? If you wish to keep us out of this, you better have a hell of a good explanation."
Now hidden by his companion, Jorn used the cover to make a few very subtle signs, transferring more energy to the root he had used earlier. The root grew under the Tavern, working its way to under the Elf. Not only that, the root began to branch out, forming many vines, situated to grasp her as needed.
Chris, knowing what his friend was up to, continued on. "What, do you show yourself to only be mute? Are you too afraid to speak? Why do you act like a coward, a stupid one at that, thinking a poison would go unnoticed and uncured with two of the Cenarian Circle? And now you just stand there. Speak now, little elf, before I am forced to take matters to my own claws."
As Chris finished his speech, Jorn finished getting his vines into place.
Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-08-28 at 03:18 AM.
Reason: little too controlling, edit for sense of story
The blood elf grinned mockingly, confidently, almost as if she found Christopher's speech child's play. "Well, I quite obviously wasn't expecting two such as you, within such a revered faction, to be in a muggy place such as this. What, were you rejected by your own kind, and forced to sit yourselves out of the Cenarion Circle's hearings? It doesn't surprise me. As for my actions, you quite obviously haven't heard of the work this rogue did on Fairbreeze Village." At that, Alexander's eyes widened slightly, and he growled softly, a feral noise that drew her attention. So, she's a bounty hunter, then. Damn her. he thought, narrowing his eyes. The blood elf's grin widened. "He knows what I'm talking about. Don't you, rogue?"
"Shut the hell up," Alexander snarled, looking past Chris and meeting her steady gaze. She seemed very confident in herself, despite her original plan being foiled by the druids.
"Oh, yes. How intimidating of you, to cowardly assassinate one of my people, have the nerve to run, and then claim I am the attacker at this moment of justice?" The blood elf shrugged. "Have it your way. Surely a few of you have questioned this child's reason for trying to leave the Eastern Kingdoms?"
"I said, shut. The. Hell. Up!" Alexander drew two more daggers and tried to sprint past Chris, who forcibly held him back in his rage. The blood elf didn't even blink. Instead, she clapped, clearly unimpressed.
"As I said before: This would have been much smoother and quicker if you two hadn't been here. I don't want any trouble from the two of you, nor the rest of you," she said, gesturing at the rest of the tavern's patrons, "but I want him, and I refuse to leave without him. Whether in a body bag or peacefully, it matters little to me."
"Revenge is for the weak," Alexander snarled, pushing away from Chris. "You want me, then you're going to get more than you bargained for, elf."
((It would be great if someone also told me what was going on. Or don't, that's better if i do not know and wander into unknown But i do not want to ruin your experience so warn me if i do anything wrong as i am a complete noob))
Grimgor sat back exactly where he did earlier. Raised his hand, looking at the now-distant-standing goblin bartender and said: "Milk!". Goblin made a nit-grin and yelled "Comin' thru!", moved back to the kitchen murmuring.
Turning his back to the bench on the stool, and checking on the ill worgen, Grimgor saw that he was coming back to his senses. "I knew. Drunken fool." he thought, unaware of the silent spell the tauren druid made, and almost totally sure it was the cold of milk that woke him back up. Suddenly, much to his surprise, worgen stood up and threw a dagger to a shadowy figure at a table. He heard the goblin bartender screaming and ducking, dropping the glass of ice cold milk he just ordered to the ground. His teeth clenched again, "Kind of what? Can't drink milk! No peace!" he said with anger. His eyes fixed on the blood elf as she made her statement. "Horde scum!" he thought, going even more aggressive.
All of a sudden confrontation took a new shape as the druids of the circle sided with the worgen. While trying to give the events that just transpired in front of him a meaning, he caught the word "Poison.", directed at the blood elf. "That's it." he thought, while clenching his fists and standing up from his stool. Raised his voice so everyone in the tavern could hear him, shouted directly at the blood elf hunter: "Leave! Or be punted you geg- Hmmmpf! Horde filth!", then added slowly "No harm be done. To King's folk!"
Obviously he was not the master of verbal debates.
Last edited by Mengucekli; 2012-08-28 at 09:11 AM.
((Well, my blood elf - who is a huntress named Velirra Dawnstrider, who is completely loyal to Silvermoon - poisoned Alexander's second mug. Poison normally isn't her style, but she knows how deadly Alexander can be, which is why she took that route. As of now, they are pretty close to blows. Uhm . . . What exactly happened is, Alexander was paid to infiltrate Fairbreeze Village and assassinate someone in there. I'm not going to name anybody, as they are all of Blizzard's NPC's, so I just made up a random BE and made him the target. Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron was told of it, and now Velirra's hunting down Alexander for a reward. I'm going to edit up her history a bit to put that in, as they are now enemies. Just waiting on Knep's response!))
Seeing the fight approaching quickly, the two druids stepping into action quickly. As the worgen made a lunge to get around Chris, he instead found a large bear grabbing a hold of him, then pinning him to the floor. As the blood elf began to move, drawing her swords and stepping forward, Jorn raised up the vines through the floor boards. In a second they had surrounded the elf, trapping her as well. Once she was efficiently detained, Jorn manuvered the rest of the vines to lash around the worgen, keeping him unable to move or break free. Now, with both of the apparent assassins in check, the druids were ready to begin sorting out what part they would have to play in this struggle.
Jorn began, ignoring the various shouts and curses from the two entangled. "You two obviously have a history to deal with, surrounded in blood. As for you question, young elf, we were sent by the Circle, along with many other members, to wander the world, observing and restoring balance. This fine evening, we happened upon the area, and Chris here wished to taste some alcoholic delights, so we stopped by. Now, the two of you have four options. The first: realize that rage is only one side to the balance of life, tempered by the other side with wisdom and discipline. Will further bloodshed truly aid anything? Highly unlikely. The second: if you two wish to spill each others blood in acts of vengeance, so be it. But do it away from here. There is an ancient arena to the north, go there if you wish to sate your bloodshed. The third: if you must take care of this business here and now, you will do so unarmed. No weapons other than your minds and your fists. Claws and teeth are considered weapons." Jorn said, looking at the worgen. "The fourth: realize that now is not the time, not with the possibility for collateral damage, and take leave of your differences until another date. Do you understand? Or will I have to tighten these vines a bit?"
Alexander put all his strength towards pushing Chris off of him, surprising the druid with his strength. The corded muscles in his arms flexed as he tried to shove the massive bear off him, but couldn't. He could feel the rest of the vines touching his legs, and the druid's weight lifted off him as they did so.
Velirra Dawnstrider found herself entangled in vines moments after she attempted to draw her swords. She saw that the rogue was similarily trapped, but underneath a massive bear, and the rest of the vines. The druid.
The thought of fighting the rogue, hand-to-hand, truly intimidated her. He was massive, and pure muscle. She knew the 'ancient place' the druid spoke of. If it came down to fighting him to the death in an arena, she knew she would win. She had Emberfire, her bow, and an endless array of traps and tricks. The rogue was young, inexperienced and rather arrogant in his abilities.
"This can't wait," she spoke, her tone soft but cold and hard with a dead seriousness. "He thinks he can just wander in to my homeland and slaughter my kin. He is dead wrong."
Alexander, prepared for any insult and ready with a hundred comebacks, found he had nothing to say to the huntress, who, though overcome with fury, held hurt in her eyes. It was a job. Mercenary work. That's what I do. I get paid to do whatever people want me to do. Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to? If they told you they would pay you to do that . . . Would you?
Alexander froze, sorting out his thoughts. When he spoke again, his tone was very deep, and threatening. "That's not the point," he said, "It was a paid job. I'm a mercenary, not someone who scrapes dirt off someone else's boots. And I certainly am not going to hold any regret for killing that worthless fol that was marked for death. Maybe he should watch where he sticks his nose."
"Funny, I was just about to say, 'Why don't you follow your own advice?'" the blood elf countered. Alexander lifted his head and met her gaze, and saw nothing now but a cold vengeance. He struggled against the druid's vines, somehow managing to push himself up to a half-sitting position.
"Tracking my steps is nearly impossible. S'why I don't worry about it. Plus, I'm a rogue, and a mercenary. I can pay off who I need to."
"Huh," the blood elf growled. "Nearly impossible, huh? Well, clearly not. And there is no possible way you are going to 'pay me off.' You spilled the blood of the Sin'dorei, for no reason other than money. Spilled the blood of a sin'dorei, in our homeland. For that, you will pay."
Alexander reached in to his thigh pocket - which was about all he could reach - and took out a handful of gold coins, letting them clatter as they fell to the floor.
Velirra's eyes shot to the gold coins the rogue withdrew, and a sudden rage took over. Her sword, which had been half-drawn, was partially free. She ripped it out, slicing one of the vines, and cut herself free within moments. Drawing her other sword, she made a mad dash to the rogue, who had used her moment of distraction to also free himself, two daggers now in hand. Something in her head was warning her to stop, but she wasn't listening. Not anymore.
Alexander was glad the blood elf had decided to continue it. He'd had both daggers under his sleeves ready, and used them to slice apart the vines. He stood, ready, facing the tiny female blood elf who somehow had garnered enough nerve and guts to attack him.
As blood elf started cutting vines around her, Grimgor realised what was going to happen in mere seconds. He closed his eyes, focused on the Worgen in the vines in his mind, and chanted the sacred words. Holy energy bursted from his right hand, directed at the Worgen, and by the time he cut loose of his ties, a shield of holy energy that could barely be seen, covered his entire body.
Now thoroughly pissed at the two, Jorn snapped. As the two came within inches of each other, weapons poised to strike, a wall of wind blasted into the pair with the full power of nature, knocking them back into the back wall and scattering their weapons. The shield surrounding the worgen broke under the raw primal fury of the winds. As the wind picked up even more, the remains of the vines lurched forward, grabbing the swords and daggers from the ground, as well as the bow and arrows from the back of the huntress, and the worgens arsenal of knives, blades, poisons, bolts, and his crossbow. The wind continued gaining in strength, now raising the pressure in the room. Objects throughout began flying, as the force of a hurricane was felt by those unwise enough to remain in the Tavern. Chris, realizing what was happening, charged the back wall in bear form, breaking a massive hole in it leading out to the sea. Now with space to flow, the hurricane began moving closer to the once again trapped fighters, eroding more of the wall as it went. Chris was forced to jump out of the opening and free fall until nearly hitting the water before shifting into his bird form. Upon reaching the wall, the hurricane split, forming twin cyclones, one around each of the combatants. The cyclones pulled their victims out of the Tavern, into the open air above the water. The air settled within the tavern, and even outside of it, until all that remained was the two cyclones, still swirling around their victims. Chris was able to fly back up and return to Jorns side, shifting back to his worgen form, and putting a hand on his friends shoulder. Chris noticed the variety of mugs, glasses, tables, and chairs littering the room. The fighters weapons had been dragged into the earth by the vines, and the hole in the floor caused by the vines had been filled with litter. Thee pirate occupants, as well as the bartender, had ran as the winds began. Chris didn't see the dwarf anywhere, but was sure he was safe in there somewhere. Turning back to Jorn, the Tauren had opened his eyes again, with a calm look once again on his bovine face. Jorn, now in control once more, pulled the cyclones back towards the tavern, close enough for the two to be able to hear his words.
"You two will cease this, NOW! I gave you your options, and yet you still chose to let your fury overwhelm your reason. Because of this, you are now in this position, without your weapons at all. Unless you think you can pummel each other to death under the eyes of Chris and I, I suggest you start thinking with those brains of yours." Jorn pulled the cyclones back into the Tavern, slowing their speed, allowing them to dissipate. The two, obviously weakened from the ordeal, fell to the floor.
"I suggest you either make temporary peace and remain here, if that is your choosing, or leave now. If you wish the return of your weapons, you had better do a good job of making me believe you will use your heads, rather than your fists."
((Though it doesn't say it, Jorn just used up a massive amount of energy. Though being barraged by hurricane force winds and trapped in a cyclone doesn't outright kill/harm you, it sure takes a lot of strength out of you, but it takes even more out of the druid summoning those winds.))
Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-08-28 at 03:47 PM.
Alexander lay on the floor, panting, his hair a mess - or more of one than it was before - and his empty hands clenched in to fists. He could hear the blood elf beside him, similarly out of breath, and she moaned in pain, rolling over. The noise caused Alexander to tense, but he himself could do little more than groan and attempt to move. Every action hurt, breathing hurt, even thinking hurt. What the hell was that?!
Though it pained him greatly, Alexander pushed himself up on to his knees, and leaned back against the wall, growling, his eyes closed. He heard the blood elf struggle to stand, and felt a little satisfaction at her being in similar discomfort.
"Bravo," he managed, his voice cold, deep, but strained. "I . . . Must admit. I didn't see that coming . . . "
"Quite the show," the blood elf muttered, her pain obvious. Alexander suspected she had been more hurt by the druid's spell than he had been. "It seems, rogue . . . Your death . . . Is not meant to be."
"Not today, anyway . . . " Alexander added, forcing open his eyes. The tavern was destroyed, a complete mess, and the worgen druid stood, a serious, deadly look in his eyes. The tauren, however, slumped, out of breath, his coat dampened with sweat. That spell must have drained him, he thought, his gaze trailing back to meet the other worgen's.
"Have you accomplished your purpose?" he asked, his upper lip curling to reveal two sharp fangs. "You've destroyed an entire tavern, bodily harmed two of its patrons, and terrified the wits out of the others. You two must be proud of yourselves."
The blood elf didn't speak, but she did chuckle softly, the noise making her pain obvious. Alexander turned his head in her direction, and saw she sat beside him, holding her chest, but a forced half-grin on her face. Her hair was tangled, her cloak twisted beneath her.
Velirra couldn't believe the amount of pain she was in. She was sure the druid's spell had broken at least six of her ribs. Each breath was pure agony; it was as if a trail of fire blazed through her chest everytime she did so. She didn't open her eyes, but she couldn't help but grin when the rogue started talking. Even after this, he still speaks with the sarcasm of a goblin. She clutched her chest in pain as a chuckle escaped from her. Damn, that hurt.
She wasn't sure what was going on, but from the rogue's words, the tavern was most likely torn to pieces by the druid's cyclone. Oddly, Velirra's first thought on that was that she hoped the rest of the tavern's patrons were okay. Then, she found another reason to be angry.
"Sent to protect us and help find peace, huh?" she muttered, the words clawing their way out of her throat. She coughed, blood tricking from the corner of her mouth. "There . . . Would have been more peace . . . If you'd have let us cut one another to pieces . . . "
"Indeed," the rogue spoke. Though he was in pain, he was clearly uninjured. Or, at least, not as badly as she was. "I was hoping that this little rivalry between us could end. I didn't think I'd be making a name for myself so early on, and in elven lands at that."
"You . . . Have more than a name for yourself . . . Rogue," she managed to get out, coughing again. Damn it, that hurts like hell. "I'm reasonably sure . . . If you're ever spotted by a blood elf . . . They'll stop at nothing to slit your throat."
The rogue actually chuckled. "That's good, then. More exercise and targets to practice my swordplay on."
Velirra's anger flared again, despite her agony. "You . . . Are a fool."
"A fool who still yet lives. Isn't that right, blood elf?" He's starting to really tick me off.
Jorn was kneeling, knowing he went too far again. But other than the blood elf, he knew none of the other patrons were harmed, except maybe the dwarf, who had yet to show himself. Listening to the two, he realized they were no longer in fighting moods. He looked up to Chris, catching his attention, and motioning to the Blood Elf. Chris understood, and went over to the injured female. Placing a paw delicately on her chest, he cast a spell to mend her broken bones and any other injuries. He then went over to the worgen, and looked him dead in the eyes. "Do not mistake druids for guards. We are here neither to protect you or bring peace to you, but protect nature and ensure balance. In both of your ignorance, you managed to piss off my friend, and you suffered the consequences." Chris then placed a paw on the worgen and cast a similar spell on him. He then proceeded to walk over to the bar, which, being built into the floor, had remained intact. He found an unbroken glass, moved to the back room, and found a wineskin. Half filling the glass, he then returned to Jorns side, rummaged through the older Druid's satchel, and removed several herbs. Crushing these and adding them to the wine, he then handed the mixture to his friend.
Drinking carefully, Jorn felt some of his strength begin to return. Enough to make things right. Jorn stood and began to meditate. Slowly, vines began growing into the room. They tightened benches, tables, and chairs. They grasped trash, pulling it into the earth. They lifted the boards that previously made the wall, and fitted it back together, piece by piece. Jorn continued meditating as the vines pulled boards back into place in the floor, and finally, just before the final boards went back, the vines replaced the weapons they had confiscated, placing them into two piles, one for the hunter, one for the assassin."Just as nature provides, does it take. Just as it destroys, it regrows. Balance is always met." Jorns eyes open, and he stumbles forward. Making it back to the table be originally sat at, he fell into a chair, leaned it back, and was instantly out cold.
Chris, looking at the now healed combatants, grinned his wolfish grin. "Now then, I hope you two choose to behave. Not that my friends energy is spent, I will have to be the one to make sure you stay in line. And trust me, though not as skilled as he, I'm the only one left here near full strength, and I'm not so good at being gentle."
By the time ferocious winds started blowing, Grimgor covered his face with his hands. "What hell?" he thought. Barely managing to stand, he tried to fight back the power of the winds, but with no avail. The moment druid grew hurricane at full strength, winds grabbed the dwarf and set him aflight towards the bar at his back. As soon as Grimgor realised he was no longer on his feet, he immediately cast himself in Stoneform, and his skin gone a dark clay. In a split second after he managed to get into form, his flight over the bench finished as the stone avatar got smashed to the shelves with many bottles, and fell down right behind the bar. Although he got mad with anger, he was not hurt much, as the stone form protected him from the otherwise fatal crash. Goblin bartender that was hiding behind the bench screamed as the dwarf's body dropped next to him. Grimgor turned over and sat down on the floor, one of his hands at his neck, caressing. Goblin yelled at him in panic: "Oi! 'Ere be me hidin' spot!". Grimgor turned his wrathfull gaze at the goblin while shifting back to his normal form and started yelling "You green-" but could not finish his insult, because a big crate full of jars just fell off from shelves right on top of his head. His eyes went dark as a huge crack sound came, but suppressed by the cyclones' sounds. Goblin, totally losing himself to panic, yelled "AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" and ran for the side exit with a few pirates.
Grimgor heard foot steps. Seemed like hurricane was over. Foot stepse came closer, then stopped right at the otherside of the bar. Grimgor barely opened his eyes, and his sight was still fuzzy. He saw a dark hairy hand grasping a glass from the bench, then disappeared. He started hearing words, spoken by others inside. "What happened?" he still wondered, in partial shock.
After pulling himself together, he raised his head suspiciously over the bench, and saw some giant vegetables moving planks and kegs around. "Nuts, i was, nutter now i am." he thought to himself, still not believing in things he just saw. Very tired tauren barely made for his chair and sat, passing out immediately. Grimgor raised up on his feet, and he heard the worgen druid mentioning he was the only one standing. He boldly jumped over and said calmly "Be not so sure. Not only you.".
Last edited by Mengucekli; 2012-08-28 at 06:18 PM.