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 Chapter 2: Two Captains Walk into a Bar...

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Red Blizzard

Posts : 164
Join date : 2011-05-30
Age : 25
Location : Elsewhere

PostSubject: Chapter 2: Two Captains Walk into a Bar...   Fri Jun 17, 2011 12:33 am

Author: Red Blizzard

Blizzard leisurely walked into a bar. This happened to be one of his favorite bars in Wa-Kia, the Dusty Dagger, getting its name from the copious amounts of hidden weapon caches that had turned up within the building’s walls over the years, unused and dusty. The owner had made a fortune selling these on the back market before authorities caught up to him. He managed to salvage one intricate dagger from the confiscated weapons pile, and hung it up underneath the sign outside his bar. A spike of Blizzard’s red hair lightly touched this dagger as he ducked underneath the sign to reach the bar’s door, shaking a shower of dust off the antique weapon, adding to the unkempt mess on Blizzard’s head.

As a captain of Requiem, Blizzard had all the traditional duties of fighting bandits, training soldiers, and attending clan meetings. But Blizzard was also a diplomat, and had been busy all week dealing with diplomatic issues left and right. The Blood Knights, a small clan Blizzard had discovered in Swordhaven, had been giving him headaches by trying to twist his offer of a merger to their advantage and leech recruits from Requiem. Their leader, a man by the name of Matt, was engaged to a princess and only half-paid attention to the deals presented by Blizzard, often sneaking glances at a portrait of his fiancée that he held underneath the negotiations table. It had taken five meetings in order to gain Matt’s attention, and even then Blizzard had to crack down hard on the Blood Knights before Matt gave up on the clan and disbanded it, joining Requiem. That scenario, not to mention the Uzamaki incident, had worn Blizzard down.

Blizzard found a small table in the corner of the bar, removed a black guitar from his back, balanced it against the wall, and sat down, propping his legs up against an empty chair. He stifled a yawn, feeling his sore bones complaining every time he moved. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, thankful that his shades would hide his sleepy disposition from the others in the bar. Then again, few were likely to pick his pockets for fear of vengeance, or pick a fight for fear of a quick death. Blizzard’s old black leather jacket had been replaced by a white one with black flames curling upwards from the bottom edge. His pants were likewise white now, black flames stretching upwards to his knees. The suit had been a gift from a town official where he had negotiated with a rival clan for the safety of the town during a clan war. The suit had no magical properties that he knew of, but it looked good on him.

Feeling the sweltering heat, Blizzard unzipped the jacket, baring a bronzed chest. He had been tanning while scouring the southern cities for clans, and now came back looking a shade darker than anyone else in town. He adjusted his jacket to cover a hole in his chest where his heart was exposed, beating for the world to see. That hole had come from a botched attempt by Lizargeco, the leader of the Guardians of Doom, to convert him to a Remnant, an elite soldier of their clan. Blizzard was a neutral person, siding with neither good nor evil, so the attempt to turn him into an evil warrior of doom ended in a half-failure. Blizzard was one of the few people in Requiem who was also part of another clan, and quite frankly, he wasn’t enjoying his situation at the moment. It was in this position, leaning back in his seat, legs propped up on another chair, jacket unzipped, tanned body showing, that Nathan found Blizzard sleeping.

Nathan had been in the bar for a while now. His scouting mission just outside of Wa-Kia had bordered on the downright boring, and he was feeling the need to release some pent-up energy. Of all the captains, Nathan had the fewest responsibilities, and spent most of the time delegating himself missions to keep himself occupied. While Blizzard waltzed around the country looking high and mighty on diplomatic missions and Saint the tactician devoted his time to planning new strategies for Dye and other warriors to implement, Nathan walked among the common people of the town, getting to know everyone nearby. His tall, muscular figure had become a familiar sight to the people of Wa-Kia and other nearby towns, where he was often hailed as a good drinking buddy and a companion to trust.

In the Dusty Dagger, Nathan waded through a sea of drunken townspeople, he himself half-drunk as he buried his mind with strong drinks. With each footstep came a heavy, thudding pad as the soles of his armor absorbed the shock of his body. Nathan’s black steel suit had seen much action over the years and had served him well. To complement his old weaponry of javelins and a giant black roundshield as big as himself, Nathan had aquired a black battleaxe and a set of long spikes on each gauntleted hand. For once, he had abandoned his black helmet, and looked around in the dim lighting of the bar with his right eye, the left having been shot off and now covered with a strip of black cloth. For some obscure reason, Nathan chose to cover his shaved head with a Santa hat, giving his otherwise intimidating stature a somewhat comical look.

As Nathan looked around the bar through his bleary eye, he saw Blizzard, head tilted back, shades pulled low over his eyes, trying to hide his sleepiness. A perfect opportunity for a surprise. Nathan summoned a small hint of magic and blink teleported over, hoping to pop up right next to him. Nathan felt warm and tingly as the magic took over, sucking him in through time-space and spitting him out the other end. The rush of raw magical energy past his ears filled Nathan with euphoria, and for a moment he forgot all problems of life and lost his concentration. This feeling, combined with just a tad too much drink, explained why Nathan suddenly found himself five feet in the air, hovering along one of the walls of the dusty bar. Nathan scrabbled at the wall for support, but was unable to stop his inevitable descent, which carried him downwards. A loud crunch. Nathan looked down. Smashed underneath his steel boots were the pieces of what looked like an instrument with strings. Nathan looked up. Blizzard had sat up in his chair at the sound, and now stared at Nathan with mouth gaping and eyebrows raised, the expression only unfinished by the wide eyes hidden underneath his shades. Nathan looked back down again and shifted his feet. Something twanged sorrowfully. He had just teleported on top of Blizzard’s guitar.

“Dude! You just stepped on my guitar!” Nathan rolled his eyes. No duh he did, but he didn’t say this out loud. Blizzard was half-furious, half-shocked. Of all the ways to be woken from his sleep, hearing his only guitar get smashed up was not his favorite.

Nathan shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “I just stepped on your guitar.”

“No Duh!!!” Unlike Nathan, Blizzard voiced his exasperation out loud. Nathan examined the pieces of smashed guitar and found a perfectly intact string. He picked it up and offered it to Blizzard.


Blizzard snapped, and lunged at Nathan. Ok, no string, Nathan decided, and withdrew the proffered item. But Blizzard was in a fury, and grabbed hold of the other end of the string. With a strength that Nathan didn’t see coming, Blizzard swung the string, sending Nathan careening across the room, bowling over a dozen merrymakers formerly sitting innocently at their tables. The room went deathly silent. Nathan got up, ready to apologize to his drinking buddies. Then he felt something tugging at the string still in his hand. He looked down, to find Blizzard still holding on. The momentum from his own throw had carried him along with Nathan across the room. Blizzard got up, still red in the face. He was angry. As the people in the bar, including a worried bartender, quickly filed out of the Dusty Dagger, crashing sounds could be heard coming from within.

Blizzard tugged on his end of the string. Nathan held on to his end. The two began tussling, yanking on their end of the string in a violent tug-of-war. Blizzard aimed a few powerful kicks at Nathan’s armor with sandaled feet, doing practically nothing to either of them, while Nathan merely wrenched the string left and right, his half-drunk brain slow at comprehending exactly what was happening. He only knew that Blizzard was mad…and was releasing pent-up energy. But that was what he was doing too, right? Nathan grinned and began to fight back. Blizzard, enraged by Nathan’s smiling, began to fight even harder.

At that exact moment, a small girl, wearing a short, black uniform, walked in. Megan, the sister of the leader of Requiem, had been attracted by the loud crashes coming from the bar, and after scared, drunken merrymakers explained the situation to her, she stormed in. She no longer used a wand, but fired blasts of water magic from the palms of her hands, dousing the two combatants in torrents of icy-cold water. They were bowled over, knocked off their feet, and slammed against the far end of the bar, where they were buried by a pile of broken chairs and tables. At least the bar wasn’t so dusty any more.

“You two were fighting over a broken guitar!?!?!?” Blizzard stuck his head out of the rubble. In his hand was the guitar string, now quite mangled from all the fighting.

“You two were fighting over a GUITAR STRING!?!?!? THAT’S PATHETIC!!!” Blizzard looked around, all the anger draining from him. The entire bar had been all but destroyed. Looking sheepish, Blizzard picked himself up and walked out the back door, straightening his leather jacket as he did so. Nathan got up shortly after, glanced up at Megan, then pulled out a bottle from behind the empty bartender’s seat and went back to drinking.

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Chapter 2: Two Captains Walk into a Bar...
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