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| One Half-Pint of Rage, Please [GRP] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mon Apr 16, 2018 11:34 pm (307 Views) | |
| Tiffany | Mon Apr 16, 2018 11:34 pm Post #1 |
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Once, there was a quiet farm run by a family of halflings, the Nolans. It was a peaceful place. "SON OF A DEMON-BISCUIT!" All was calm and tranquil as the various family members set about their daily tasks. "SODDING PIECE OF GARBAGE!" The work was simple, but rewarding, as they reaped the harvest of the land. "STUPID FRIGGING WORTHLESS, SON OF A MOTHERLESS ORPHAN PLOW!!!" Then again, maybe it wasn't all tranquil. One of the children of the family, a young halfling woman named Tiffany, was out attempting to plow the field, and having a rather rough go of it, unable to even keep a straight line. The small horse attached to the plow looked back in confusion. "DON'T YOU START WITH ME, OR I'LL TURN YE INTA GLUE!" Getting more and more frustrated, she threw the plow on its side, and began kicking it, breaking it board by board. "Tiffany?! What in the abyss are ya doing? You're gonna hurt Daisy!" The voice came from a bearded, middle aged fellow who came running over, looking at the pony that had been forcefully tipped over with the plow. "Tiff! Calm down right now! Gods above, ya messed up Daisy's leg! Now how are ANY of us gonna plow the field? GO. Just go." Tiffany was fuming. "It's not my fault, stupid friggin plow wouldn't go straight! Gods, all this stupid farm, and stupid tools, it's all a load o' goat drop, nothin wants to work right, ever!" "TIFFANY, GO!!" "Whatever, I'll be in the barn." The man, Tiffany's step-father George, frowned. "You mean you're going to go drink some more, that it? I've put up with your attitude for long enough. All you do is break things, hurt people, and drink. You don't want to be a farmer? Fine. Go somewhere else. Find another hand to feed you. Gods hope ya don't bite that one too. Now get out of here, before I make ya leave." With a curse, and a final kick to the plow, she walked back towards the house. "Fine, I'll grab mah stuff. This whole sodding place can burn down for all ah care." That was a few weeks ago. Tiffany had spent many hungry and cold nights, as she made her way towards the nearest town she knew of. Finally, she arrived in a city called Balefire, a place where vagabonds such as herself always seem to end up. She wandered the streets, her clothes filthy, and her hair matted, looking every bit like the homeless ruffian she was. She began walking towards an establishment that seemed to be more her style, the sounds of merry-making and rowdiness music to her ears. She was low on coin, but she might have just enough for a drink and a cot, if nothing else. Before she could get there, she was nearly knocked over by a human, who wasn't paying attention, and kicked her square in the side as he walked. Shaking her fist, the less-than-three-foot halfing shouted up at the human. "Hey, watch where yer going, you bumbling wart on a pony's ass!" The confused human looked down, and saw the stout, dirty little woman yelling at him. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize there were children running about this late." he said, his voice mocking and cocky. That was not the wisest thing to say, even to a kindly halfling, much less one with severe anger issues. Tiffany immediately yelled in rage, and charged straight for his knee, causing it to buckle and making the human stumble to his knees. She jumped on the opportunity, quite literally, leaping onto his chest and knocking him to the ground on his back. He tried to push her off, and guard his face, but the furious halfling had already begun to unleash a barrage of reckless swings into his face. Soon, her knuckles were bloody, as she unleashed a dual barrage of strikes and expletives at the disrespectful jerk who nearly ran her over. Before long, the fool had fallen unconscious, and Tiffany added a few more punching for good measure, before realizing that the sound of shouting she had been ignoring was, in fact, the sound of the city guard approaching. At this point, it was too late, and they were already on her, restraining her and pulling her off of her quarry. She was bound in manacles, and dragged off to the jail, where she was left, still cuffed, with only a bucket, a small jug of water, and a cot. She paced back and forth for hours, before finally laying down and drifting off. She woke with a start, as a guard kicked her cart. "Hey, troublemaker. Wake up, someone here to see you." Who on earth would be coming to see her? She got her answer soon enough, as a large Dwarf walked in. "Hello Lass, I saw the little tussle you got into last night. Have to say, you fight like a demon. Shame you're locked up in here." Tiffany rolled her eyes, and remarked, "Yeah, real great. Thanks f'saying that. Anythin' else? Or can I go back t' sleep now?" The dwarf laughed, and continued. "Well, if you want to, I suppose you could. But I tell you what. I like the cut of your jib, and I could use someone who's not afraid to knock a fool out, to help me keep things more orderly. A bouncer, if you will. If you agree to hear me out, I'll pay your fine, and we can go discuss the terms of your employment over some food and drink. Does that sound fair?" Tiffany looked the dwarf over for a moment, before getting up, and nodding. "Yeah, sure. Can we go?" The dwarf clapped his hands. "Wonderful! Let's be off!" he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. Once they were out of the jail, the gentleman, whose name was Stonejaw Jackson, led the way to the Purple Lantern Tavern, a rather nice establishment, which made Tiffany feel all the more uncomfortable. But her new employer bid her not worry about that, she would be left alone as long as she was with him. Once inside, they had a feast of a meal, with all manner of meats and vegetables piled on their plates, and Tiffany put down more than a couple of pints through the evening. Once that was finished, the dwarf laid out the details. He owned a smaller tavern a little ways away. She was to remove problematic patrons, and ensure that no one was stealing from the place. So long as she did that, she'd have a small room of her own, some pocket money for spending, and three square meals a day. She thought about it for only a moment, before the state of her clothes, and the emptiness of her coin-purse made the choice rather obvious. "....when do I start?" |
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8:38 AM Jul 11

