
10-02-2006, 06:17 PM
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| | Well-Compensated Establishment Provocateur | | | |
Re: Red moon (Duke of Clubs) Kellson enjoyed the gonging sound of brass knuckles glassing someone in the face. It reminded him that he was definitely a better brawler than they were, and the unconcious body lying on the floor proved it.
There was an unscheduled yet always anticipated event that happened in every city or town. No one could expect it, but it was always expected. It was only slightly uncommon for someone to die in the event. Only just. The event...
"Bar fight!"
"Oh, goddammit," Kellson swore, slipping his hand into his satchel. Why did these people start brawls so randomly? Why not when everyone was drop dead drunk, so no one would get hurt?
He walked up to the man who had shouted and punched him in the face. The drunk went down like a ton of rectangular building things. Kellson left them to their fun and walked out the door, still holding onto the bottle of beer he had bought. He felt slightly unsure about the wiseness of this purchase; he normally didn't drink. Every now and then he would buy a beer, but he always felt a bit guilty. And whatever happened, he never, ever allowed himself to drink more than one. If you drank two, you'd end up drinking another, and another, and pretty soon you'd be lying naked in the gutter with a black eye and no wallet.
A tall man caught his eye as the demi-angel-man-thing strode down Main Street, trenchcoat billowing behind him in the autumn wind. As he drew closer, Kellson could see the man was taller than he had thought. Walking a bit closer, it turned out the man was insanely tall, at least a foot taller than him. Yikes.
Lazily strolling along a fair distance away, he easily went the same way as the 'giant' while still looking as though he was only out for a short trek to the barber's. This little town probably didn't know what a barber was, but metaphors work no matter where you are.
Reaching the outskirts of the town, the man who was tall many times over unsheathed a sword and cut himself on his hand. Kellson blinked, but kept walking towards him. The giant swordsman held his bleeding palm over the sword. The colors of Hell itself fizzled into existence, creating a circular swirling thing. A portal? Who knew. He'd find out soon, though, because Kellson had reached the man.
"Eeeeeeeeeemo," Kellson drawled, rubbing the brass ring around his knuckles. "Cut yourself again, it reminds me how much I laugh at self-mutilation." |