The Dusky Tavern - OR Buying off a Weenie

[Knight]

In the thick of the night, a gloved hand raised to make contact with the well-worn door before it. The man posessing the hand smiled somewhat, as he read the weather-worn picture that sat at eye-level on the door. The rather over-friendly looking dog, accompanied by the two mugs of overflowing beer on either side of it gave the Drunken Dog away rather quickly. An old Tavern that had stood in these parts for entirely too long, the Drunken Dog was a favorite haunt of adventurers, prostitutes, thieves, and of course, drunkards, amongst all sorts of interesting folk. The man pushed the door open- it creaked on its rusty hinges, and stepped in. His cloak swished around his feet, and made a damp rustling noise as he stepped in out of the rain. The Barkeep looked up, and nodded to the man. It was obvious that they were familiar with one another. Quickly pulling his hood back, the unnamed gentleman stepped up to the bar, aside two rather smashed old men, who were too busy snoozing to notice the newcomer- whereas the rest of the occupants in the tavern had.

 

"So Jack... what'll it be?"

 

Jack, the man who had stepped up to the bar smiled. His perfect, white teeth flashed in the firelight that flooded the room. "The usual, Bill. The usual."

 

"One Bruteweiser, coming up."

 

The Barkeep turned around, and grabbed a mug, found the keg he was looking for, and filled it up for Jack. Taking the frothy beer, Jack walked across the creaky wooden floor, eyes of some of the patrons following him, the rest passively ignoring him. He slipped into a booth, and began to drink his beer, when suddenly, there came a crashing from the bar. Jack looked up to see the strangest sight he'd ever seen.

 

It appeared to be a semi-crazed, hairy, half-human half-....something. And it had just smashed a mug across the head of one of the drunks. Bill's eyes flashed around the room, looking from help, somewhere, anywhere.

 

The creature grunted- Jack stood quietly- this brute of a thing was fixing to try and tear apart his favorite establishment...

 

The Half-Human, Quarter-Orc, Quarter-Ogre, as it were, was looking around the room, obviously looking for someone. Every once in a while, it would look down at a scrap of parchment it had grasped in its hand. His eyes settled in Jack's direction, and he squinted- trying to tell something. He raised his hand, and looked at the parchment- the image that was drawn on it looked much like Jack- it even had his rather shaggy, unkempt brown hair, and the scar that ran at an odd angle from his eye.

 

"You dere. Cummere."

 

Jack's eyebrow raised- trying to figure out what this creature wanted, his hand going to his waist, gripping the blade that he had there. It was true that he had done some things to offend some people who might want him killed, but that was a very long time ago.

 

"Erm.. How may I help you?"

 

The creature just motioned him forward. Jack, stepped tentatively closer... Keeping his hand on the blade, as the creature keeped gazing at him menacingly with glassy eyes. As he got closer, he could smell its terrible stench, and he grimaced ever so slightly. The creature's ragged, steamy breath reeked of decay.

 

"I say. Cummere. Now."

 

Jack, seeing no other alternative, looked to Bill. Bill was mouthing the word 'RUN' to him. Jack, figuring that this brute was intending to pound him senseless cautiously moved for the door. Inching his way towards the exit, he managed to reach the door, before the creature realized what he was doing.

 

"DON'T GO! CUMMERE DAMNYA!"

 

Jack turned, and thrusted the door open- stepping outside, the Half-human, quarter-orc, quarter-ogre following quickly. Jack darted down the street, and broke off about two hundred meters down, into an ally. His heart thudded, as he tried to lose the creature through the sharp turns, and narrow passages that made up the little neighborhood that he had ducked into- the creature was hot on his heals. It shouted for him to stop, but Jack would not do so. That is, of course, until he came to a dead in. Blocked on two sides by houses, and a third by a steep fence, Jack had nowhere to go. It was obvious the little dagger he had would do nothing more than irritate the creature, so he stopped, still breathing hard, and looked at him, pleadingly. Jack did not wish to die tonight.

 

"YE SHOULDNT HAVE DUN THAT. YE SHOULDNT HAVE!"

 

The half-thingy looked at him angrily. It raised its massive fist, and looked as if it were ready to slam the meaty hand into Jack's face. Instead, it reached around, and pulled something out of the big pack it was carrying. Withdrawing a bag full of gold coins, it handed it over to Jack.

 

"MARSTER SAID YE WON DESE IN DE LODDERY. SAID GIVE YOU DESE. ALMOST TOO MUCH TROUBLE, BUT MARSTER BE GOOD DA ME, SO I DO AS MARSTER SAY."

 

And Jack collapsed in a heap, from the sheer comedy of the situation, combined with the weight of ten thousand gold coins.

[Gyrfalcon]

*laughs* Excellent story, Knight. That's one ugly lottery winnings deliverer though.

 

You might note a distinct lack of Weenieness now.