Suddenly all the music, raucous laughter and dancing stopped. At the bar was a large, burly, very angry looking Half Orc with a very bad attitude. Strangely he was holding what looked like a pile of lumber in his hands. "Bar Keep, your sign got busted up. Funny how that happened after my fist hit it. I guess they don't make signs like they usta. I wonder if that would happen to yer face" With that the Bugbears guarding the Pikeman's Revenge jumped into action. Krusk felt a sudden snapping of a wooden club over his skull. It did nothing but cause wood shards to fly everywhere. Krusk got that old familiar feeling coursing through his veins again... the feeling that got him through so many battles. Hard to describe what he felt at that moment. A low buzz started somewhere behind his brow, his whole body began to quiver. No thats not it, more like resonate. Then his muscles started to contract, his eyes first became slit like then opened wide. A low guttural roar started somewhere deep inside him then seemed to explode from his chest. He reached a level of pure action. The trap sprang, the tensed muscles erupted and the seven bug bears that seemed to pounce on him just as suddenly were airborne and slammed into the far wall of the bar. They settled into a heap. From out of nowhere more and more Bugbears came. The result was always the same. Yes Krusk was raging again. The Euphoria was building... Krusk lived for the opioid like rush that he felt at these times in battle. A delerium of pure destruction overcame him as furniture, bodies and glass all melded into a most unusual form of projectiles. He was having such a good time that he forgot to draw his greatax. Just as well he didn't even need it at times such as this. Minutes passed and the rage coninued. The Bartender hide his rather portly hide under the bar.
From the corner of the great room a rather strange group consisting of a halfling wizard, a rather seductive gnome and a human warrior of sorts watched the action, taking great care not to get hit by various pieces of shapnel and not to upend their tankards. They appeared to observe the beserker's behavior in a rather approving manner yet they tried to stay out of the fracas. A nod of approval here, a wink to a member of the party there, and the occasional semi hidden smile of knowing that they could use a creature like this in their adventuring party. Especially since the recent lose of their ranger companion. Yes a beserker would add more than little muscle as well as some woodsman skill that they sorely needed if they were to accomplish their mission.
Finally the endless stream of airborne bodies ended, The bar was totally quiet... Except for the booming laughter of the Half Orc. "So bar keep, any thoughts as to what yer new sign is gonna be?? Mebbe "The Flying BugBear". Why don't ya serve me up a tankard of yer finest ale. Then ya can tally up the damages to the furniture and we'll call it even. A good fight always puts me in a good mood". The bartender stared in utter disbelief for he was sure his life would end this evening. Seems that the beast was ready to forget the insult on the sign of the "Pikeman's Revenge."
Out of the corner of his eye Krusk spotted the strange group in the Great Room. He was rather suprised that the group showed no fear, no weapons drawn, nothing. They just sat calmly amidst the turmoil drawing on their tankards. He noticed the looks they were giving each other and swaggered over to their table. What are ya fellas, and ahem lady looking at... Ya want a little of what the bugbears got. I am always looking to oblige. With that the warriorlike fellow said, "Actually my friend we have a proposition for you..."
From the street the laughing sound was at once contagious and fearful in its depth; followed by "Barkeep ale for what is left of the house, tonight all hands drink on Krusk's coin" The music, dancing and raucous laughter began anew.
The Problem of Sport
1 week ago