A Loaded Lance and a Boozy Blade [Don and Yorrick C]

[Donovan]

“No. Nahnahnah. That’s totally not it, York. That’s just. No.” The green clad mercenary sat with the pink haired lancer at the bar of Ashe’s most debaucherous tavern. When the small war band had gotten back from their doog hunt, bloody and battered, they were hailed as heroes. Don and Yorrick, being the most wounded of the bunch, had gotten a chance to chat whilst being healed, and had decided to got out for a drink. They had no idea that the bar would let them drink for free. And who were they to not take full advantage.

The silver tongued merc turned to face the small crowd that had gathered around to hear their tale of how they slew the beasts. “Y’see, there was a sharp snap, and the Gwygligig turned its 3 heads around. Each head stared at a different member of our group, and tried to close its jaws around each of our throats!” The mercenary hadn’t had a true crowd in a long time. In his drunken stupor, he was reveling in the opportunity to tell a story. “But Jule was too quick. And Rick was too fierce. And I was too bold. And Mila - Well, it couldn’t bite at Mila because it only had 3 heads, y’see. So I leapt out of its way and grabbed the beautiful mage-ess from the clutches of the Gwggligyig’s mighty claws. Yoirck being the fierce warrior that she is, Screamed for the beast’s attention, drawing it away from the rest of us so that we’d have the time to kill its... Pack. Hold on.” The black haired mercenary finished his drink and swiveled back to face Yorick. “See that’s how you tell a story!” He turned back to the audience once more before whipping back around and whispering. “I don’t remember what happened next. You’re turn.York wantsta tell the next part of the story, everybody!”

[Yorick]

"Bwehehehe, okay!"

Yorick had by this time had quite a few; while she could hold her liquor well - very well, in fact - half a dozen whiskeys had begun to cloud her judgement. She knew the gist of the story, but the details? Well, they came straight from whatever musty corner she chose to sweep in her mind.

"So the Gylliwig came for me, right, with all of its heads going like a lumberjack at a tree, you know, rip-rip-rip-rip-rip? And I takes my lance, you see, and Bam! I shoves it right through the thing's right head, and it starts roaring and moaning and charging and all of that and it jumps right into the air, ten feet up, and comes down. So I bring out my axes, right, and I slams them right into the left head as it comes down and the axes slice the head clean into three parts, like cutting a melon."

Yorick took a breath, drinking down half of the newly-refilled glass - when had that gotten there? - and then finishing up her part of the tale.

"And so then I draw my sword, and I swings it, but the Gylliwig is too damn fast, and it bites right through my armor and through half my leg! They needed two healers to get it back to normal, right?! So I'm laying there, bleeding, and still swinging my sword at it, and then Mila jams her book in the Gylliwig's mouth, and then... And then... Donny, boy, what happened then?"

[Donovan]

The drunken mercenary listened to the battle scarred warrior woman recount her part of the tale. He hadn’t seen pretty much any of Yorick’s fight with the three headed hell hound, but he’d seen what she’d done to it. He was sure she was exaggerating a little bit, but, for his trouper’s taste, not nearly enough. The mercenary began to recount the other side of the tale, but not before doing another shot of whiskey. When he spoke, his speech had become even more slurred and excited.

“Well, you see folks, while the terrifing monster slayer over here wass fighting off that big one - all on her own. The rest of us were getting attacked - one by one - by the rest of the fiend’s pack. Mila and I looked at each other and moved to the top of a hill faster than the beasts could run, but there were some waiting for us at the top of the hill. She blasted one with fire, and I cut at one’s foul muzzle. But the beast was too fast and nearly managed to mangle my leg. So I waited until it pounced at me again before I made my move. Quick as a lick, I jumped to my left and tackled the beast to the floor. Wrestling the dooggy’s claws and fangs away from my face and throat, I somehow got on its back, where I slit the monsser’s throat from ear to ear.

“Jule, the flying gilotiene had gotten away from one on the ground, though not totally unscathed. Her leg had a fearsome wound. Mila gave her an ointment she’d gotten from the leader of a Ilian mountain clan - a gift for the beautiful mage’s work rescuing the town from a fearsome Baeel spider! The ointment worked wonders and Jule rushed off down the hill. Mila saw Yorick in duress and Started lobbing Great balls of fire at the creature to keep it distracted and wounded. One of her fireballs set the monster’s manes ablaze, and I heard it howling in pain. But so did another member of thee hell hound’s pack - Who bolted straight for the Great Green Mage!

“I didn’t have time to wrestle the beast like I had the last one, but I needed to protect the beautiful Mila. So I launched in front of her, shield up and at the ready, and took the full force of the 200 pound beast hurling through the air. It’s claw raked against my shield arm, but it could not knock me to the ground. I took my sword and thrust it once. Twice. Three times into the belly of the beast. Before throwing it to the floor. Dead.”

Donovan took a long sip from his beer. He hadn’t felt so alive in years. Nothing beats telling a good story.

[Yorick]

Yorick laughed uproariously. She hadn't seen Donovan climb aboard the Mauthe Doog, but for some reason it sounded exactly true - gospel, even. And she could see all the other eyes in the tavern gleaming, soaking up every word from the monster hunters and trying to see the fearsome beasts as they saw them, roaring and biting and hurtling towards them.

"Man, he didn't cut its throat from ear to ear, he cut the head near clean off with one blow! And then, when the other Doog attacked, he barely moved! Just blocked the beast with his shield and then skewered it like shish-kabob, not a second to waste. But I was laying there, leg mangled, blood pouring out, nobody stopping the Gylliwiggle, just Mila's book in its jaws. And then the book snaps, and it's got one head ready to go and me laying helpless on the ground. So Donny here swings his sword, quick as a wink, and bam!"

The General slammed her hand down on the tabletop to accentuate the story, then went on, gesticulating wildly.

"He cuts the Gylliwiwig's tail right off, and now the beast is mad, it's furious, and it lunges and then WHAM! Donny's sword goes right into its neck, direct hit, sticks there like some sort of decoration. And the beast is still alive, can you believe it, still furious as ever, and then we're all cowering because there's no way we can win - Mila without her tome, me on the ground with a broken leg, and my sword too far away for Don to grab. And that's when..."

Yorick trailed off, motioning to Don to finish the story. He did such a good job, he deserved to tell this part. It would be splendid.

[Donovan]

The crowd was enthralled. They’d never been so close to such danger before, most likely, and here they were drinking with the heroes who’d not only survived the hell hounds, but who’d slain them all! As Donovan took on the end of the story, his tone was oddly somber, “I dove away from the beast, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to kill it without finding another weapon. Yorick and Mila were also unable to fight back. And at that moment, I knew we were going to be killed. Despite everything we’d been through, we couldn’t best the beast…” The crowd, moments earlier uproarious and excited, fell deathly silent. No one in the pub was talking any more. You couldn’t hear a breath. You could have heard a pin drop. Even the bartender’s eyes were so trained on the green clad mercenary that he didn’t notice the mug he was filling had begun to overflow. Donovan allowed the tension to fill the air and penetrate the core of the tavern.

Finally Nellie, the young waitress, piped up - her voice thin and afraid, “How did you manage to kill it?” Don turned his bright green eyes to the girl and just barely shook his head, “Well, Nellie, I knew I had to do something. I had to girl the beautiful Mila and the fierce Yorick a chance to escape. So I prepared to charge the beast and give my life for theirs. But I didn’t need to. Because from the heavens itself a blue blur flew down, scythe in hand. Our own little angle of death. Heaven’s Blade. Jule. With her sword the beast’s remaining head came clean off. Falling to the ground and rolling with a lifeless glaze in its eyes.” Nellie’s hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped. Her eyes began to tear up as she heard the ending, thrilled that the heroes had come out more or less unscathed. Donovan looked the girl dead in the eye, sadness with a glimmer of hope dancing in his gaze. “ If it wasn’t for her, the rest of us may not have made it back from those plains. I may not have made it out.” The waitress’s hand found its way into his own, “And who knows who would have been able to protect this great town from the Gwiiggslby’s wrath.” The drink was definitely getting to the mercenary, so he removed his hand from Nellie’s and raised his mug, turning his attention back to Yorick. “TO JULE - THE ANGLE OF DEATH!” Then the mercenary turned back toward the gather crowd! “AND TO ASHE! THE TOWN THAT LIVES!”
From behind the bar, the inn keeper raised his own mug and shouted “TO THE VERDANT CROSS — THE HEROES OF ASHE!”

[OOC: Yes, Angle of death was entirely intentional, they are still drunk as all hell, after all.]

[Yorick]

"Hear, hear!"

The bar erupted into celebration once more, drinks flying around and voices spinning skyward, as the triumphant mercenary finished his story with a bang louder than an erupting volcano. Now that was a good story. She gulped her drink, laughing boisterously as she stared around at the revelers caught up in the throes of rejoice. How wonderful it was that she and the crew could make this scene a reality. It was as beautiful as...

as...

well, it was really beautiful.

The Halberdier made a decision in that moment, a decision that she knew she'd enjoy and regret all at the same time.

"Don, my man, I'm giving up my sword. I'm not going to use it again. I'm going to beef up my armor, I think, and I'll focus on the lance and my beloved axe. I'm going to be an armored knight, and I'll never be scratched again. Forget speed! I'm going to be invincible! A hunk of armor! I'll be unstoppable! A juggernaut! A battering ram! Nobody will be able to do so much as scratch my glorious armor! I'll charge like a buffalo and hit like an anvil! Haha! I'll crush my foes like they were twigs! Wohohoho!"

The Halberdier stood up on the table, watching the eyes come to her, and then grabbed her sword, raising it into the air like a trophy and booming out her offer to the whole tavern.

"The sword of Yorick the Monster Slayer! I give you the sword that has tasted Glyggiwig blood! Any offers? Up for sale now! Take it home as a trophy and a good luck charm! Anyone?"

[Donovan]

The mercenary watched his fierce friend light up at the end of the story, reveling in the glory of their fame. When she told him she was going to lose her sword and exchange it for a thicker set of armor, the mercenary nodded solemnly. “Well, ’t makes sense, dun’nit? You wanna survive a hit from one of these black hearted fiends, you gotta be able to take pretty big hit. You wanna take a pretty big hit, you better have some pretty big armor!”

When the soon to be General turned back to the rest of the tavern and offered up her sword, a few of the plucky younger patrons began crawling all over each other to try and get the sword first. Though, now that he thought about it, Donovan wasn’t even certain that the warrior woman had so much as touched her blade the entire fight. The mercenary would have gladly taken the sword off her hands himself, but his father’s sword was doing its job well enough, and he wouldn’t be willing to pay nearly as much as the hero worshipers would.

“One day, this story will spread out of this town. Children of Saacae will tell the tale of the Verdanant Cross, the Silver Tongue, and the Angle of Death. Each will chose a hero and reenact the story. Dons, Milas, Yoricks, Jules will be running around everywhere. Even little Heelcutters will face the terror of the Gwiggliy. And little Blue coated mongrels — FOR THE LIFE OF ME I can’t remember that guys name at all! Did he even join us in the plains or just drink from our tab?”