Vemuz,
You glare threateningly into the eyes of your assailant, your gaze holding the weight of years of fighting, bloodshed, and privation - of weeks in an open boat under the sun, of hundreds of harpoons darted into hundreds of whales, of men struck down at your hands, of countless tavern brawls. The eyes of a man who seen a good many of the hardships the world has to offer.
The man who hit you looks into your eyes, and pales. Cowering in your shadow, he still brandishes the chair - but now seems to be holding in front of him with nerveless hands more as a gesture of protection rather than aggression. He backpedals quickly.
(OOC: your opponent failed his Will save. He took a five-foot step out of your threatened range, and is now holding his action.)
Nicodemus,
Your club strikes home, the effects of the True Strike spell more than counteracting the effects of the whiskey. There is an audible crunch as your opponent's nose breaks.
He yelps, then he yelps again as you grind your heel into his wounded foot with shocking ferocity.
He quickly steps back, with a bloody, swollen nose, leaving a trail of blood-smeared footprints. Recovering his wits somewhat, he steps forward purposefully and stabs at you with his belt knife. However, his aim is off, probably because one eye is swollen shut and the other is half-blinded with blood.
His friend, seeing things turn a bit more seriously, steps in, swinging a half-empty bottle of rum, which shatters with considerable force against your head. Rum, crimsoned with a thin stream of blood, cascade downwards, soaking you thoroughly.
(OOC: 4 points subdual damage, and 1 point real damage from the broken glass. You did 8 points [6 from the club, and 2 more because you mangled his wounded foot] subdual damage total against the wounded Standishtowner.)
Malthas,
Casting about for a club, you see several things that could serve admirably; the leg of a chair, shattered when Vemuz, boatswain of the CALYPSO'S GRACE, hurled a Standishtowner into the nearby table, an empty bottle of rum, and a large, heavy glass mug.
However, as you cast about for a weapon, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you see the serving woman who you were getting cozy with earlier. She presses a sap into your hands.
"Normally, I'd keep this myself," she says, with a flippant smile. "But I'd hate to see them ruin that wonderful face of yours." She kisses you lightly on the cheek, and shoves her way through the tavern customers, making her way to the bar.
Antheos,
You look at the sky. Although it is clear for the present, there is a hint of unpleasant dampness in the air that hints at rain or fog. There is little wind for the present, and no promise of any in the near future.
You see the captain also looking skyward.
"Clear enough," he says, then sniffs the air. "Smells a bit damp-like, though, don't it? I wouldn' be surprised if we got a touch o' rain or fog pretty soon."
Jonah,
Although you could not see anything in the forest, apparently Antheos did, or so he tells the Captain. Captain McCrenshaw hands him a pistol, telling him not to shoot unless shot at, and then turns to you.
"I'd keep your pistol close at hand, Jonah," he says. "Antheos here tells me there's somethin' watchin' us."
