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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 14:44:39 GMT -5
"Ouch!"
I know what you're thinking. What a terrible way to start out a mission, with a stupid pun. But that's just the way things work out sometimes, because the above statement was exactly what lead into the start of the mission. But I digress. Things won't make sense unless we start at the beginning... Yes, yes, I know, that's a really cliche way to start. Hmmm... Ah yes, I know!
Thomas pushed open the heavy doors to the bar. They swung open, letting out a dull thud as the inertia of their weight was halted by the walls behind. The room grew silent as everyone turned to look at who it was who'd disturbed the conversation and mood that had been set. Eyes glared at him from the corners of the room like rats who hated the sun, cursing its very existance. Well, more like they were just squinting because it was rather dark in there... what with the lights having been turned off since the bar-keep forgot to pay the electric bill earlier that week. The whole room was burning off candles to keep it lit, the windows doing a fair enough job themselves. There was a fresh aroma that met with his senses, causing an eyebrow to raise in question at the strange oddity. After a moment, the conversation resumed as though nothing was out of the ordinary.
In all honesty, Thomas was a little disappointed. With the mission details he'd recieved, he'd thought that the bar itself would be crawling with the type of people looking for a fight, perhaps a chance for him to refine his sloppy skills. With a small sigh, he stepped into the building, allowing the doors to pull themselves shut behind him. Most the people didn't pay him much mind, a traveler in traveler's clothing. Really, there wasn't much to set him apart from anyone else save for the Rapier that hung around his waste and the gold earring he wore on his left ear.
"Welcome to the Prancing Purple Penguin." The barkeep said, wiping a mug off with an already dirty looking towel. "If we don't got it, don't ask for it. How can I help ya?"
"Well..." Thomas started, "I'm not really a customer. I'm here about..." His eyes shifted to the sides to make sure no one was listening. "Your problem."
The man was taken aback before leaning in and harshly whispering. "Who told you about my problem?! Nobody knows about that 'cept me an' my wife! I swear it's not my fault! It's just been so long..." His voice trailed off. Thomas' scowl deepened.
"Really? It's worse than I thought. Mind if I take a look at the damages?"
The man blinked. "Really? In public? I'm not sure if I could bear for anyone else to know..."
"It was posted on the guild wall, I think everyone knows by now." Thomas spoke, a little confused about what this guy was talking about.
"T-the guild wall? You mean you're not here about my poor Lucy?" He pulled out a picture of a ripped teddy bear that looked like it was a panda or something. Thomas' eye twitched once before turning and recomposing himself.
"Sir, I'm here about your patron issues. I've heard there were men who've been disrupting the peace in the bar itself..."
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 14:59:10 GMT -5
"OHHHHHHHH~! Thaaaaaaaat problem~!"
The man was just a little too loud, attracting the attention of others in the bar. All at once, the man turned a little red and put the picture back under the bar table, the overly muscular man looking rediculous with his mustache and his secret love of his Panda teddy bear named Lucy.
"You know, it's not uncommon for grow men like me to sleep with his Teddy! I know what my wife thinks... but I've been sleeping with Lucy a LOT longer than I've been sleeping with her!" The man scoffed. Thomas couldn't help but cough at the statement, not expecting such a fourthright answer. "Anyway, I suppose you're here to help, not listen to my marital problems." Finally some sense.
"T-that would be the idea." Thomas nodded, his hand coming up to his mouth for a moment before dropping down to the Rapier at his side. The man's gaze followed the trail the hand took.
"I hope things don't come to that," the man stated, nodding to the Rapier, "But they have been getting more and more rowdy recently. It's harder to calm them down with just words. Last time, I had to throw them out by force. Needless to say, they weren't very fond of the prospects. Threatened to hurt Lucy, they did!" The man looked like he was trying his hardest to not tear up from the mention of hurting the Panda. "NO!" He stated firmly. "That's why I summoned you here. To deal with them!" His firm look wavered and he hunched over, tapping his fingers together. "Just... don't hurt them too badly... they're still valued customers. They've just taken to a bad hobby is all." All in all, the man seemed genuine in his concern for the men. Farrell turned around and have a small heave. Opening his eyes and looking back at the man with his head profile, the spirit of the swordsman shone through.
"They think they're pirates? I'll show them the dangers of being a pirate."
With that statement, he walked over to a table near the entrance and sat himself down, alone, watching and waiting for the men to appear. Waiting for his job to start. The look had sent a shiver down the Barkeep's spine.
"Maybe I shouldn't have posted the job after all. What a powerful aura."
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 16:27:57 GMT -5
The Purple Prancing Penguin was a popular place for people to come for a drink as far as Thomas could tell.
Though the barkeep was a nutjob, it wasn't out of the ordinary that side-characters be used as rediculous fatastics of their real-life versions with wacky unexplainable misunderstandings and hobbies. Hey, I got all that! I'm a writer now! Ah-hem, anyway, Thomas was sitting in the corner of the room, brooding his usual brood that consisted of a water cup in his right hand and a glare on his face that could turn its contents to ice. Even so, the burning he felt in his chest at the excitement that came just before a fight melted it back again. It was an odd combination of hots and colds that exhuded from this young man that got everyone a little uncomfortable at his passion, especially the barkeep who was now regretting his choice at getting someone he was unfamiliar with involved in these affairs. The atmosphere Thomas was creating was nearly palpable. Comments such as 'that boy's pumped up about something, isn't he?' and wonder what's got him riled up. weren't uncommon as others took notice of him. However, Thomas pretended to not hear them. How he presented himself was unimportant. What was important was how things progressed with those immitators.
As the time passed, Thomas could feel himself growing calmer and calmer as he became more and more annoyed with the situation. One hour passed... two hours... finally, Thomas got up from the place he was sitting and advanced on the barkeep.
"You know... you failed to mention exactly what time these men typically arrive."
"Oh, yeah, I missed that part, huh? Kinda would be nice to know and not look like an idiot waiting for hours for them to show up."
"... you talk too much." Thomas' eyes drooped as he rose two fingers to his right temple.
"Oh, would you look at that, they're already here." The barkeep said, speaking as though he'd not seen them. It was the table of... well... there wasn't much else to say but... The table of weirdos. They were all in what seemed to be animal outfits and all of them had little holes where their faces peeked out. One was a zebra, one was a giraffe, one was a duck, and the last was what Thomas hoped was a fish. All of them had hairy, naked legs extending down and naked arms protruding, showing off toned biceps and rather impressive physiques... almost as though they could have well been pirates.
"This day..." Thomas sighed. "Keeps getting weirder and weirder." Walking over, he couldn't help but overhear them scoffing at what he was wearing. Not that they were being very subtle about it with their blaring loud voices.
"YOU SEE THAT LOUEY?! THINKS HE'S A BIG TIME TRAVELER DOESN'T HE?" The zebra spoke.
"YEP GEORGE! LOOKS LIKE A REGULAR RAGGAMUFFIN WITH THOSE CLOTHS!" The giraffe replied.
"DEEEERRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP~!" The fish bellowed, just to feel part of the group, really. But it was the last straw as Thomas grabbed the fishman by the mouth, holding it shut before pulling on it, leaving a red mark where he hand hand been.
"Ouch!"
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 16:58:01 GMT -5
"Ouch!"
The fullgrown fish's hands came up to his face to cover the red mark on his mouth. The others in the group stopped speaking, actually, they looked horrified by what had just happened to one of their own.
"You guys..." Thomas' voice started off relatively soft. "This whole place is whack! You're pissing me off! Unless you want people to ridicule you, get out of those dumb costumes and start acting like adults! Honestly. You'd think you were all just a bunch of dumb kids." He scoffed, his right hand dropping down to his Rapier. "You want to be Pirates? You don't have what it freakin' takes to be pirates. Wanna know why?"
The men at the table didn't seem to be looking at him in particular, rather they stared at the fish costumed man, their looks of horror not fading.
"I freakin' asked you a question nitwits!" Thomas yelled, slamming the table they were sitting at. The commotion drawing quite a few spectators. "It's because you don't take yourselves seriously, you don't take your friends seriously... hell, you don't take the world seriously. And until you start--" By this time, the Fish was making a face that only a mother could love. It was mangled by fear, sorrow, and anger mashed into one ugly emotion. "What..? Awww, don't tell me the little fish's gonna cry. What, did I hurt his feel--"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Fish yelled, his voice carried far over Thomas'. It was only then that Thomas noticed the barkeep trying to get his attention.
"He's the real reason why there's such a commotion. If he doesn't get what he wants--" Thomas didn't get enough of a warning in time to finish listening to what the barkeep was saying before he was thrown backward with a simple back-hand to the chest, the strike catching the swordsman by surprise, causing him to crash into chairs and tables, scattering people as he knocked them over.
It was strange, although this overgrown fish seemed like such a big baby, he had enormous strength and speed to pair with that massive body. Coughing, Thomas sat up from where he was laying on the ground, a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there before, the cold finally melting away under the passion of the fight.
"So, the big boy wants to play rough, huh?" Farrell smiled, paying no attention to the horrified look on the barkeep's face as he cried out something about 'my beautiful furniture'. "Alright, then! COME ON!" Farrell yelled, drawing his Rapier.
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 17:11:39 GMT -5
"Alright, then! COME ON!"
The jeer Farrell yelled out was supplimented by the barkeeper's helpless cry of 'NOOOOOOOO!' as the giant fish ran towards the swordsman, enraged, not taking any care that his opponent weilded a weapon. With every thump of its giant feet, there seemed to be a minor tremor in the ground and the wooden floorboards creaked as the massive man ran towards him. Thomas wasn't about to go all out on this fool of a man, but he wasn't about to go easy on him either. That one strike had left more than its mark, and there wasn't any way he was going to be able to get by with too many more of those. Bringing his right arm back, the giant fish readied an attack. Thomas had learned of this in his time training in Loungetown and back on his village. The Telephone Attack. This is really any attack that signalled when or where one would be attacking. It was like calling the person, telling them they were about to attack and asking them to be safe afterward. Dodging wasn't the issue, it was taking the beast down.
Dodging the swinging blast to his head, a rush of air shifting the hair on his head as he ducked under the blow, Thomas charged forward, slamming the Fish's abdomine with the hilt of the blade as he passed. With a metallic clank resounding? Nothing paying the strike any mind, the fish turned around and charged once more. Unable to repeat the same attack, Thomas barely jumped out of the way as the fish plowed through several tables worth of customers.
"NOOOOOOOO! THAT WAS AN ANTIQUE GIVIN TO ME BY MY MOOOOOOTHEEEEEEER!" The barkeep wailed at the sight of a smashed flower vase.
"Tch, they're all such babies..." Thomas whispered to himself, not at all counting himself to blame for anything that was happening here. The fish turned around, seeing that his strategy had failed him and started to fight back more tears that came to his face, threatening to spill out.
"Throw them out by force..?" Thomas remembered something the barkeep had said, turning to look at the man who was whistling, looking elsewhere. "How would you throw something like this out by force?"
"Well, he really has a thing for sweets. Let's just say it wasn't against his will." The man laughed, amending Thomas' view of the barkeep. Useless. His attention turned back to the fish as the arms moved, reaching up toward the sky before slamming down on the ground. At first, Thomas wouldn't have beleived what happened had he been told, but the wood on the ground splintered and cracked under the weight of the strike. Picking it up, the fish now wielded something like a club.
"Upgraded to a weapon have you?" Thomas asked through a clenched smile. "Unfortunatly for you, that's not gonna save you fish brain!"
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 17:37:25 GMT -5
"That's not gonna save you!"
Well, the giant fish didn't seem to care so much about words as it did in the revenge of its poor mouth and dignitiy which had been completely ruined by this stranger in its familiar land. If this was a river and he really was a fish, he would be able to find his way home via smell no matter where in the big wide ocean he was, because this was his own. His territory. And here was this eel that found its way into the his perfect haven. Oh woe was he that he should have to bear such an outrage! The fish, with righteous tears of justice streaming from his eyes held a fist to his chest, face to the sky, the perfect personification of good come down to this bar where this devil was standing in his way from having a good time.
Farrell, meanwhile, couldn't think of how to beat that damn fish. It was like he was made of steel or something. The clang had come from the outfit, but the true steel came from the damn fish's body itself! What to do? He had to think of something or he'd never be able to get past this stupid mission. Movement brought him back to his senses as the fish with the club charged him, a powerful swing readying. Readying himself, he sidestepped the vertical bash that carried the strike to the ground, spraying him with splinters of wood from both the club and the ground. Little more than a broken stick, the fish continued swinging it, trying to hit him with the hand clutching the pulverized wood.
Taking the opportunity of the frantic attacks the fish was making, Thomas quickly darted in, stabbing at the fish, before pulling back for a fist to whiz where his face had been but a moment before. It was strange. When the Rapier hit, it didn't manage to cut through the fish suit. It was almost like it was made from uncuttable material... and the fish's body was too strong to bruise through blunt attacks alone. Though it was a ludicrous suit, it had a brilliant strategy about it. Of course, it left the legs and arms exposed for attacks... so was this really planned from the beginning or did he just get extremely lucky..? It was odd, he'd never met such an idiotic genius before.
"So, that's it..." Thomas muttered to himself.
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 20:07:59 GMT -5
"So that's it..."
The sound of a man who's got it all worked out. However, only time can tell whether or not he truly has. After realizing the perfect defense this beastly fish had working to its advantage, a huge stamina and strength to boot, its speed was below that of what it should have been with such training as gaining it must have incurred. Not only that, but the fish's movements were excessive as though he'd been trying to fight without the proper teacher to guide him and refine him. Master Yoshiro would have a fit if he saw how long it was taking to finally finish off this thing, amazing physique or no.
Holding the Rapier out loosely in his right hand, he tilted his head and gazed externally calm at the fish. It was his first fight in the Kingdom of Lyneel, and it was dragging on for far too long at the quality of opponent he was going up against. Other bar brawls were much shorter and sweeter, tilting in one way or another within the first several blows as the weakness was obvious of his opponent, or the strength was just too far to bridge in such a short amount of time. Most others he'd fought weren't quite so childish in their methods of fighting as this one and relied more on thought processes to pull them through. This one seemed to rely more on instinct and feel of the moment to pull off amazingly strong attacks in a sluggish, ill refined movement. Thomas supposed that not everyone had been blessed with the amount of training he had been blessed with, after all.
"I'll admit, though you may not speak much and act like a baby, you're rather intelligent aren't you? I can see past your facade. So know this. Even with the advantage of your defensive qualities, you now stand a 0% chance of victory." The crushing words of victory rang through the air and struck the fish in the forehead with the sound of defeat.
"Do you wish to continue this fight?"
The fish stared at Thomas for a long while.
"... Derp~? DEEEEEERRRRRRRRP~!" It let out a confident cry as it took a battle stance, mocking Thomas with its voice.
"Very Well... I won't say I didn't warn you. You have sealed your fate." He spoke softly. "Futilis Speratus."
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 20:13:11 GMT -5
"Futilis Speratus."
'Futile hope' in the latin. Thomas had always been one for the dramatics of banter, and this was no exception. He was well learned, even though latin wasn't exactly a common language to pull words from. Even if his enemy seemed unwilling to play along, he was definitely one to go all out no matter what facet it was presented in. He'd been in control this whole fight, and now was no exception. In fact, he was even more in control since his opponent seemed unable to adapt his strategy to his opponent. Always leading with the same obvious attacks, always trying to overpower him with mere strength alone and the toughness of his body. It was surely unnatural, but it also left many, many holes to be exploited through having such faith in the monstrous physique alone.
"D-don't be a fool, Kenny can't be defeated so easily. Tell 'm George!" The Zebra called out to Thomas, who didn't pay him any mind. Seemingly concerned for Thomas' well-being, though he wasn't sure why he would be. After all, the strength difference between both himself and the fish should have been obvious to all, fighters or no.
"L-Louey's right! Just run! Don't bother with him!" the Giraffe yelled, whom Thomas payed no mind to either. Honestly, could these men not see the superiority he had in this fight?
"DEEEEERRRRRRP!" The fish chimed in, seemingly not even understanding what he was agreeing to. This guy... Wasn't he acting just a little too stupid to really be that genius..? or was it his stupidity that made him so smart? Why the hell was he even thinking about this during a freaking fight?! This damn story's going on for far too long seeing that all Thomas really had to do to begin with was run him through with the Rapier! It was that stupid Fish's voice that started this whole thing anyway.
"Fine. This final pass will be what sets us apart, Fish. You wanna try me?" He asked dangerously, his fighting spirit surging as he prepared for the final front. It was a gamble. If he couldn't beat him here, there would be no use in trying to beat him at all. After all, he promised not to kill the guy and that would then be the only option.
"DEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRP!" What a freaking annoying fish.
"Then let's do this."
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 20:26:14 GMT -5
"Then let's do this."
Wait, what's going on? I thought he'd already said something like that already? Oh, I see what this is, this is turning out to be just like one of those stupid DBZ episodes! Freaking takes 5 of 'em to screw in a lightbulb. Anyway, words were exchanged, strategies revealed, evil attempts at taking over the world were thwarted for the last time. You know, all the cliches of writing a villain manga character. Or was it world destruction? Oh, it was world destruction of a fake world that never existed in the first place but the main character thought was his home and then realized at a later point that this other alternate universe was actually his home and that that was the real plane. However, deciding that because it was an alternate universe and that he'd lived in the fake plane for all that time made the decision that this fake plane was the real plane and the real plane could go to hell. Which it did. Epiclly. After the final blows were exchanged. But those're spoilers! What're you doing reading this, skip down to the action!
THE ACTION!
Three episodes later, after exchanging witty battle phrases and finding out that both of them are pretty good at fighting, they finally reach the final standoff, where they stare at each other suspecfully.
Wind blew through Thomas' hair, even though they were indoors somehow. (how does that work?!) And the big fish-man's left to relying on his menacing look to win the audiences heart. Which is really unfair seeing as he's not the protagonist. Even so, he's bound to get sympathizers, cause he's really just a big troll baby. Look at that face, see that troll face!
Movement! Suddenly the two party's launch themselves at one another, a flash of light as fist and steel make a pass at one another. Suspence as they both stand, backs to one another, both silhouettes standing after the final strike. Suddenly, blood spurts! And the giant form of the fish falls to the ground, defeated. How? The face is the only untrainable muscle. The face of the fish lightly cut. It seems the shock of pain and how close the blade had been to killing him was enough to rend the giant baby unconciouss. Well, it may leave a light scar, but ladies liked guys with scars on their faces. So, it wasn't all bad.
THOMAS FARRELL IS VICTORIOUS!
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 5, 2012 20:38:15 GMT -5
THOMAS FARRELL IS VICTORIOUS!
Really, how else were you expecting this to end? I mean, he IS the protagonist of the story, though he just beat up a fully grown autistic guy. Sure he wrecked the whole bar where the fight took place. Yeah, he scolded fully grown men for wearing animal costumes and even went so far as to make one of them cry. But he's the hero... right..? Well, there was no flowing cape in the breeze as he left, there was no horse to ride off into the sunset with. Actually, there was very little to tell him he really was the hero. He was a mercenary. That's all. A Pirate himself to the bitter end.
"That was an impressive display of skill right there." The barkeep nodded, splinters of wood buried in his forehead as he spoke, blood running down his face.
"Uhh... sir... you're bleeding." Thomas pointed out, rather curious why he didn't seem to notice.
"Ah, yes, well, not everyone's young enough to dodge berserk attacks! Not to mention, I was preoccupied with how much damage was being done to the place."
Thomas blinked, having forgotten about collateral damage. "B-but it wasn't me who did it! It was that fish guy! You should be after HIS head, not mine!" Thomas pointed to the fainted man.
"Yes, about that. He's a customer. i can't punish a customer, that would make me look bad." He laughed, not realizing his face already looked pretty bad. "So, I'm never hiring you again!" He continued laughing. Thomas, however, hung his head. Yes, he'd completed the job, but he was already out of this line of work. That was a short-lived career. It seemed doing these chores weren't his gig after all.
"N-no... you've got a point there." Thomas sighed.
"So, I'm expecting you to pay me back every penny with hard work!" He stated firmly. Thomas blinked, unsure of how to take that.
"But you just said..."
"Forget what I just said and remember what I'm saying now. YOU OWE ME FOR THAT VASE!"
Yelling ensues and Farrell narrowly escapes from years upon years of labor through the secret art of 'bolting'.
THE END?
[personal grade;; good beginning. middle, eh, could be better. ending was weak. Seems like the writer ran out of muse. Like the fact the enemy wasn't your everyday villain, and really Thomas turned out to be more a villain than he did, but beating up an autistic adult seems kinda sad for a first mission. I suppose I PASSED my own grading system, but perhaps I should choose a different mission type next time... either that, or turn it into a trial and error mission... or line up a series of fights... whatever the case, make it into more of a short-story.]
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