Brawl at the Tanglebones Tavern: Turn 1 Results

TURN 1 results

The Barkeep

No one is quite sure what put the Tanglebones Tavern into such a brawling move.  Part of the blame must lie with the barkeep, an old greybearded grouch who’s been drinking as much as anyone in the place.  And the more drinks, the grouchier he seems to get.  He seems to be in a grouch-off with the exceedingly hairy man at the bar, who is obviously a regular.  Some of the blame also has to lie with the folks in the eastern half of the establishment.  The dudes at tables 19 and 20 have been giving each other the stink eye all night.  And at one point a Vietnamese elf in a poofy landsknecht jacket moves from one table to the other, apparently in a huff.  Meanwhile, the cheap thugs at table 14 are paranoid enough to think that all the meaningful glances are actually about them, like tables 19 and 20 are conspiring against their gang somehow.

Whatever the source of tension, everyone on the western half of the bar knows exactly who started the ruckus: Bobo the Flying Monkey.  He’s been bugging the barkeep for a while about getting another banana daiquiri, but dude is too busy talking to his hairy chum.  Bobo snaps, leaping up onto the bar and taking a wild swing at the barkeep, who barely ducks out of the way.

The whole establishment explodes into a maelstrom of fisticuffs and swearing.   The Bronze Skulls at table fourteen rush towards the back of the room, in the lead is a woman with nails and teeth, both of which have been filed to nasty points.

Over on the other side of the Tavern, Malice the Albino Elf broods and warily sips his drink as the fight breaks out.  There’s one in every crowd.

Meanwhile, Ba Chim the Vietnamese elvish landsknecht is stumbling down the stairs, trying to clear his head, arriving back in the room just in time to catch a right uppercut from Quartle the Dandy Frogman square in the jaw!  Ba Chim rolls back on the balls of his heels for a moment, but he’s still standing.

The oldest of the Bronze Skulls, a fellow with silver hair and an equally silver scar across his face, doesn’t seem to be in a rush.  He pulls out a comb and adjust his hair Arthur Fonzarelli style as he saunters towards the south end of the room.

Father Cadfael grabs his pewter tankard and rushes forward to meet the Bronze Skulls, swinging it left and right in wide arcs to fend off a Bronze Skull zerg rush.  This stops the advance in the middle of the room.  ʺHarold, watch my back. Darf, keep an eye on that muppet!!ʺ shouts the cleric.  Are either Harold or Darf sober enough to understand what he’s saying?  No one knows.

Meanwhile the lumpy-headed kid in the Blueboy gang (seriously, something is wrong with the shape of that dude’s head) rushes over to table 9 to join his comrades.

Over at table 7 the guy in the jester hat is the first one up and kicks the eyepatch mofo at his table, knocking him to the floor!

Von the Koopa Troopa scrambles onto the bar and over the large barrel of mead behind the west end and leaps across to the shelves where the high end booze is stored.   The shelves begin to lurch forward...

The woman at table 7 yanks her dagger out of the table and begins waiving it menacing at the dude in the jester hat, “I’ll cut you, punk.  I will!  And the DM has crit charts!”

Meanwhile in the other side of the building Bumphrey the Moleman attacks Sir Grover of Sesame!  Grover tries to fend him off but Bumphrey tags him with a right cross.

The barkeep jumps back to avoid both Von and Bobo and is cursing like a sailor just back from graduating with honors from Fuck You Naval Academy.

On the other side of the join the young mage Rhadamantus gets up from his seat at table 20 and gives Bumphrey an evil look.  "I've got better things to do than hang out with losers who look like extras from The Wind in the Willows."  He turns to stride away haughtily, only to find Father Cadfael partly blocking his way. "Forgive me, father, for what I am about to do," intones Rhadamantus as he deftly steps inside the the wild arc of Cadfael’s mug-swing and nails him with a powerful uppercut!  Cadfael’s caught off guard for a moment, but now he looks angry.

Another member of the Bronze Skulls moves up to join the sharp lady in menacing Father Cadfael.  This chap has a shaved head and earring look, but he’s not exactly Mr. Clean.  His hands are covered in dried clay, as is the smock he’s wearing.  He doesn’t attack, yet.

The belly dancer jumps up on the stage and backs into the corner, watching the action.

For no apparent reason the really hairy guy at the bar goes after Man Rider the mutant paladin with a Shatnerian double axehandle attack, but the tentacular weirdo easily schlorps out of the way.

One of the Bronze Skull gang, a dude with cool ass snake tattoos on each arm, has been losing all his coins at cards.  At the first sign of trouble he ‘accidentally’ flips the table as he rushes to aid his comrades, sending copper and silver coins flying across the room.

A Blueboy, a fellow with a ridiculously braided red beard, doesn’t get up yet.; he’s busy finishing his drink.

In all the confusion one of trollish barmaids spills an entire tray of drinks all over the floor near table 7.  All brawlers pause for a moment to mourn the fallen, those wearing hats doff their chapeau momentarily as a sign of respect.  The brawl resume.

Darf, who is quite probably the ugliest dwarf you’ve ever seen, moves up to left of where Father Cadfael is holding the line.

Over at table 6 as everyone stands Fritz (the Von Helsing lookalike) deftly grabs Megasthenes the Hoplite and twirls him about in a beautiful waltz, as Fritz dips the Hoplite you think he’s going to lean in for the kiss, but at the last moment he lets go, dropping Megasthenes flat to the floor.  Ah, romance.

All night Sir Grover of Sesame has been drinking Alligator’s Milk, which he assumed was some sort

of local cocktail.  Just before the brawl breaks out he complains about how weak they are.  Harold the Adequate explains that no, that’s actually the milk from a lactating alligator (no explanation available).  Sir Grover proceeds to spew a mouth full of the stuff right into Harold’s face.

Harold wipes the Alligator Milk out of his eyes and replies in kind with a mouthful of mead.  For a moment the muppet thinks this is a straightforward tit-for-tat, until Harold swings his tankard at his felty head.  The wily Sir Grover drops under the table before Harold can connect.

The three weirdos at table 10 start to mix it up with each other.  The woman with the vicious grey eyes kicks Ugly Gandalf; dude stumbles for a moment, dropping his sweet ass pipe, but remains standing.

Another member of the Bronze Skulls moves up to Father Cadfael’s position, this one a woman who appears to be going to a KISS concert later tonight, based upon her black garb and  Gene Simmons make-up.  

It’s starting to look like Father Cadfael and Darf the Dwarf will be facing the entire Bronze Skull gang next turn when Mister Mister (the manly man in a black sweater and blue jeans sitting at table 20) knocks back the last of his mead and says to no one in particular “Excuse me...you fine gents...I have to see...a man about a horse...”  He leaps to his feet and rushes over to the vicinity of table 17, which he flings out of the way, clearing a space for him to assist the cleric and the dwarf.

Megasthenes the Hoplite scrambles to his feet, unsure of the turn his life has just taken.

The trollish barmaid that had been serving the Bronze Skulls quickly gathers the coins they kindly left for her as payment and tip, then hussles out of the room.

Back at table 10 the big man (6’8”) with the iron right hand takes a swing at the woman with the

menacing grey eyes.  Note that he swings with his left (non-metallic) hand, catching her with a mean left cross.  The woman laughs like she’s having the time of her life.

Over at the bar, the bigger troll guzzles another pitcher of mead, as if oblivious to the chaos erupting around him.  Meanwhile back at the bottom of the staircase that little love tap from Quartle the Frogman seems to be enough to help knock Ba Chim the Elf out of his mead-induced haze.  "Aw, there's a bar fight going on? Where the hell is Taurus Hell's-Heart when you need him?"

The pile of tentacles known as Man Rider oozes over the bar and up the shelf in the back, grabbing a bottle of Old Panther from the top shelf and ascending to the rafters via tentacle.

The last of the Bronze Skulls, a fellow with a huge Mario-style handlebar moustache, moves into position to brawl with Darf, Cadfael and Mr. Mister next turn.

The baby troll turns his head and casually blows a big cloud of cigar smoke into the hairy guy’s face. Dude is not amused.

Finally, Ugly Gandalf has fallen and he can’t get up.  He can swear using a variety of sexual acts that are mostly impossible in three dimensional space, though.