Tavern Brawls S06WK07

The following tales were first captured from other sources, but may pertain to the overall story and are recorded here.  Entries may be edited for clarity.  Special thanks go out to scrapforce, Samwise, and Aarkenell for their creativity!

—–

The Poopsmith wanders into the room.  His vow of silence prevents him from busting a rhyme, but that doesn’t prevent him from making sick beats. And by sick…what could he mean? Well, he’s the Poopsmith. He deals in dookie. His beats drop like a turd in the toilet, squish and plop, baby baybuh!

The Poopsmith starts rhythmically shoveling, then plopping the convenient pile of poop that is somehow always next to him. Scoop, plop. Scoop scoop, plop. As he scoops, he mixes in grunts of effort, and smiles maniacally as the pace quickens and quickens.

Scoop, plop.

Scoop scoop, plop.

Scoop, plop.

Scoop scoop, plop.

ScoopPlopScoopScoopPlopScoopPlop

ScoopScoopPlopScoopPlopScoopPlop

PlopPlopPlopPlopPlopPlopPlop

He goes into overdrive, like a girl at a rave wearing fishnets and nipple bandaids, he is flailing wildly. Eventually he reaches the climax of his massive deuce beat, and looks around. Ah shit, he’s done it again. He covered the entire tavern, the patrons, the staff…with scoops and plops.”

[Contributed by Scrapforce]

—–

Chris and Kevin stare at the tavern in disbelief. “I…I…” Chris begins, but can’t seem to find the words. Kevin shakes his head as he examines the tables, the floor, and his precious delivery system. Everyone in the tavern is torn between looking at the Poopsmith and the two tavern owners. Unable to articulate anything, Chris looks at the perpetrator and points at his back office.

As the Poopsmith enters the back room, Kevin begins hollering for his “emergency crew”. Iris leads out a number of magically animated automatons who look remarkably like children. This crew begin to scrub the walls and ceiling, obviously intending on working their way from ceiling to floor.

Satisfied that the tavern was starting to be attended to, Chris heads back to his office. “NO!!” the patrons hear the young man shout. “I did NOT want poop all over my office as well! What is wrong with you?!?!”

The door shuts, but the entire tavern can still make out many snippets of the conversation:

“…On the patrons?!…”

“…never setting foot in this tavern again!”

“…ScrapForce will need to sack a castle to pay for the damages to the tavern AND our reputation…”

“…Where did you FIND this much poop??…”

As the shouting continues, the tavern patrons quickly file out, making their way to the nearby river to wash out their clothes and themselves. Several begin to openly discuss the wisdom of bringing the Brawl to this town and whether they might recommend a different locale next time.

A distinct odor began to emanate from The Two Brothers. Across town, a man smiles.

—–

First battle out the underworld Varrick comes to aid The Fallen, who summons Tyrannor himself!

“I must have pleased Ares bye cutting the artery.”

After that, The Fallen keeps smacking Tiny Toque down until she does not get up again. The Fallen walks from the arena to his table to grab his ritual dagger. On the hilt is carved ‘SACRIFICE’. He turns around and starts walking towards the arena again.

“Must not disappoint Ares… Blood for the bloodgod!”

“Hoooo wheeeee! He’s gonna gut her.” Ms Anne Thrope shouts, watching from a table in the tavern, quenching the thirst she worked up from her brawl. 

She stands, downs the rest of her pint of pink lemonade, and flicks the cocktail umbrella in the face of a nearby patron. 

Turning to the rest of the audience, pointing down into the brawl pit below, she shouts, “You’re all in for a treat tonight, ladies and gen’lemen. Sure, it’s gonna be a bit gory, but it’s a rare thing to see this kinda ritual sacrifice.” 

She turns towards the bar and calls out, “Oi, barkeep, bring me another lemonade and some popcorn.”

A door at the back of the tavern bursts open, and Chris comes storming out of his office.

“No, no, no! These brawls are NOT a fight to the death. Stop him NOW!!”

“Oh, all right,” Anne says, pouting. “You sure know how to ruin a party.” She trots after The Fallen.

“Fallsie! Fallsie my dear. Hold up a sec sweetie. The grumpy old man said we can’t go playing Ritual Sacrifice today. Give me the dagger, dear.”

Arms crossed, temper fuming, Chris stands unmoving, gaze fixed on Anne Thrope and The Fallen until the Half-Demon relinquishes the dagger and agrees to leave his opponent in the brawl pit to recover.

Finally, satisfied that the cleric has been placated, he turns and walks back into his office, muttering under his breath, “What a day! First, poop from wall to wall and now this. Something is going to have change or I am not doing this again next season.”

[Contributed by Samwise and Aarkenell]

—–

As Ms Anne Thrope begins to make her way to where Duster is standing for their first match, Chris seemingly appears out of nowhere. “Now, I’ve already kicked others out of here and I’m done playing around. If either of you,” he glares at Ms Anne Thrope and The Fallen, “even thinks of trying to kill, maim, or dismember your opponents, you’re gone. Our security team will escort you out and Nudeltulpe can deal with your matches. Keep. It. Clean.”

The young proprietor gives each of the Misfits one last look, then heads towards the stairwell to the eating gallery. As he leaves, the Misfits note that Iris, the woman who was still cleaning the poop off of the inside of the tavern along with her magically animated staff, continues to watch their team. In addition, her eerie army of automatons seemed to also stare into the space around them as if ready to clean not only the room around them, but their very souls as well.