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 Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 2:20 pm
 vs 
SCENARIO
Van is merely trying to celebrate her friend's birthday, but what happens when alcohol is introduced into the situation?
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Kurama no Koishi generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
3!
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 2:23 pm
Outcome
aaaaand BAT IS THE MORE VIOLENT DRUNK
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 2:45 pm
The tavern was a little shady and just over-crowded, Van decided as she sipped on a mildly potent mixed drink. The Legionnaire would otherwise never be caught dead in a place with as little class as this, but for the sake of her friend’s birthday, she’d had to suck it up and come. It was not a decision she’d come to regret quite yet, she mused as she observed the girlfriend making out with a random stranger, but she was beginning to feel awkward sitting at the bar by herself.
The solution to awkwardness, however, was to drink more. Van graciously accepted the next few free drinks that were sent her way, said drinks probably sent by male Lunarians who’d caught a glimpse of her curves in the tight off-shoulder minidress she was wearing. Whatever man, it happened all the time. This thought formed belatedly in Van’s head as she swatted someone’s hand from her drink. People couldn’t get enough of her.
This notion made Van a little giddy as she stood up, swaying a little as she trotted the best she could to the bathroom in her ridiculous heels. Emerging some time later, Van realized slowly that she was a quite bit more affected than she’d planned to be. Taking a few moments to reorient herself, she began to head back to her seat at the bar, bumping into several people on the way there. Too sloshed to apologize, the lady didn’t even notice as she nearly ran head-on into a particular Mongolian seated not far from her seat.
Van continued happily, openly flirting with the two men who’d somehow snaked their way on either side of her as she ignored the large man she’d bumped into. Her laugh was a little loud, a little too sincere. It was going to be a good night.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 3:29 pm
It had taken a lot of alcohol to get him to where he was now. He'd entered soon after Van had left and had seized as much nasty liquid as he could in the time being. Bataar was supposed to be doing something covert, but it simply wasn't happening-- instead, he was chattering away to a skimpily-clad female whom he'd chased a few other men off of. She was further gone than he, but she'd declared that today was her birthday and so he'd let it go.
He was, after all, smelling considerably better today than he usually was, having just taken a bath earlier in order to make himself far less obvious as his superiors had requested. Drunk women actually seemed to find Bat attractive, too, which helped him out here quite a lot more than he'd expected, even if the woman he was talking to was a legionnaire. What he didn't realize was that he was talking to Van's girlfriend, the one she'd accompanied to the bar, and the one who'd just been sucking face with some other man.
In any case, he was having a pleasant time before someone slammed into him from behind, making his stool creak dangerously as he tried to keep his balance. He would have to take care of said person, too, or else he might look like a wimp when all he was attempting to do was impress the birthday girl.
Bataar twisted around, readying his fist and swinging it drunkenly at the person responsible for nearly ruining his fun. "Come and face me, you basta--" he paused, realizing that it was Van, who was wearing yet another unusual outfit. Beyond that, she was flirting with two guys who didn't look pleased that he'd just taken a swing at their target.
"Holy ********, woman, this is my bar tonight!" he announced, unaware that he'd clearly just started a bar-fight.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 3:48 pm
His words had soared right over her head. Van continued walking away, chatting merrily with ridiculously handsome Lunarians on either arm. Beer goggles? Psh. It took her several seconds to realize that she was talking aloud to no one, for the two men had disappeared from her side. Turning, annoyed now, the Legionnaire was well on her way to giving both of them an earful, when she recognized a particular Mongolian captain standing just ahead.
Van wasn’t sure who had swung the first punch—the men escorting her or Bataar himself, but when she felt the air move across her face from a too-close missed punch, she staggered, a delayed attempt to duck. Not that she needed to, because Bataar was facing three, no, four very angry Lunarians right now. The woman noted with some amusement that her two new toys had already jumped onto the much larger Bataar. Van’s girlfriend, also, was none too happy about the fact that he’d taken a swing at her buddy, and decided to enter the fray.
The woman stood back for a moment as she watched the brawl unfold, staring dumbly as a handful of others joined the fight—or were they trying to stop it? The sober, reasonable Van would have turned on her heel and walked away... but that was the Van of two hours ago. Plus, she’d have to fish the birthday girl out of there eventually. And Bataar was in there, always deserving of a kick to the face.
She needed no more convincing. Grabbing a metal barstool and teetering closer to the mess of Lunarians, she squinted in the darkness to find her target. When Van thought she had him, she swung the large stool with all her might into someone’s shoulder. That was Bataar, right? She had no time to check, for she’d been pulled into the brawl as well.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 5:05 pm
Bataar seriously didn't understand why Van was in the bar. Nor did he understand why two men appeared to be defending his enemy for no reason whatsoever. It was just a shame that he had missed hitting the Legionnaire, especially now that they both appeared to be in the midst of an extremely confusing brawl, with people Bat had never even seen swinging punches, many of which came dangerously close to the Mongol.
The situation was made worse by the fact that he was now feeling the effects of the alcohol he'd downed moments ago. He couldn't see Van beyond the crush of people who'd congregated, but he was surprised when a man to his right collapsed onto the filthy floor, presumably from a pretty hard blow-- there she was! He wriggled his way out of the main brawl, hoping to face off with Van without having to worry about the rabid girl who'd said it was her birthday. The only person Bat wanted to deal damage to right now was the purple Lunarian.
The captain took one look at the barstool, however, and realized that there might be a problem. Without waiting for her to put it down, he snatched up the other end, convinced that he would come out victor if only he could use the metal object the girl was holding. Still, wrestling for such a thing while intoxicated was probably not the best of ideas, and he teetered slightly, nearly falling over.
"I'm going to take this barstool, and I'm going to slam it into your face!" he explained antagonistically, hoping he could do it exactly as he'd just described. The immense satisfaction he took just from thinking about Van waking up with a massive bruise and the king of all hangovers was, in fact, almost more than he could handle without giggling merrily.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 5:49 pm
Van looked dumbly at the man who had slumped to the ground, trying to figure out if it was her intended victim. He was quite pale, a little scrawny, had cropped hair... Bataar sure had changed since she’d seen him two seconds ago. He had inflatable muscles! It was then that the Legionnaire realized that she had hit the wrong guy, and she began to chuckle—no, giggle—at her severe lapse in judgment. “I’m so drunk~” she said gleefully to no one in particular as someone punched her in the shoulder.
Drunk Lunarians, particularly if they weren’t Fighters, were really bad at throwing punches. Van had lurched forward slightly at the impact, but it wasn’t as if it particularly hurt. That, or the numbing effects of the alcohol had already gripped Van and she couldn’t feel anything. In any case, she would at the very least wake up to some bruises later; such was the inevitable outcome of any fight, let alone a drunken mob fight.
Her arms were suddenly yanked in another direction, but Van’s reflexes were still sufficient to tighten her grip on the seat of the barstool she was holding before it was taken from her. Whoever this was, he was stronger than the other drunk Lunarians who had been hitting her. Van craned her neck to look at her new attacker, noting with some dismay that it was the real Bataar. Launching her entire weight backwards against him—he was much stronger than her after all—Van laughed at his words.
“Not if I don’t make you eat it first!” she threatened the best she could, even as she stumbled over someone’s leg in the process. Whenever she saw Bataar, she always got the urge to throw something at him. And she’d throw this barstool, too, if only she could get a hold of it.
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Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2011 6:13 pm
Bataar had paid no mind to the man Van had managed to knock over, nor did he stop to consider that he himself might currently be knocked out if not for the effects of alcohol and the poor lighting of the bar. In any case, he was determined to gain the barstool as his weapon despite the perfectly good sword sheathed upon his back. It spoke of some sort of dominance, to deprive Van of her weapon, and he was set upon doing so. The fighter had a surprisingly good grip, however, and Bat was having more trouble than he’d formerly expected.
For a few integral moments he wasn’t quite sure what he ought to do-- it seemed as if both of them would end up rolling around on the floor if they continued this sort of tug-of-war, but he was hoping that another option might hit him. It did. The captain loosened his grip upon the barstool and, hoping he was being quite unpredictable, slammed it in the direction that Van had been pulling. They were both out to damage each other, and he wasn’t above trying to use her weapon against her, especially since, like he’d mentioned earlier, she was absolutely invading his personal space here.
A fist slammed into the back of the man’s head and he jerked forward slightly, a look of faint shock painted upon his features before he realized that he was not just pushing forward-- he was pitching forward, his mane of hair obscuring his vision slightly as he fell in the direction of the Legionnaire he was fighting. The pain was minimal, however, given that he believed he was more than just a little drunk at the moment.
Whatever the state of his intoxication, he still seemed convinced that he could beat the fighter. ”Take that!”
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Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2011 6:25 pm
There was not much going through Van’s brain as she continued to hold on tightly to the barstool with all of her strength and weight. The only goal swimming around in her mind was to defeat Bataar in this fight, and even that was only dimly motivating her right now. The fighter probably would have been content to play tug-of-war with the larger Lunarian had he not ceded first, letting go of the stool.
Van saw what happened next in slow motion. She was overjoyed to realize that the barstool was hers once again, and nearly cried out a smart remark regarding this... until she noticed that the stool in her hands was swinging up above her head, and she was falling backwards. Time caught up now, and the fighter fell into a backwards somersault, feet flying over her head as she landed amongst other Lunarians.
The barstool was gone now, probably having brained some other unwitting man in the immediate area. Van sat up, recovering, only to find to her horror that Bataar had fallen on her legs. A shrill screech erupted from her then, along with some incoherent swearing as Van recoiled to the best of her ability. Pulling one foot close to her body, the woman fumbled at the straps of one of her sparkly silver 5-inch stilettos. She may have lost her first weapon, but the sharp point on her shoe would be more than enough to shift the fight in close proximity.
Raising the shoe high, Van began to beat the captain over and over again, as rapidly as she could in her inebriation. Clearly Bataar did not know the potential of her violence and resourcefulness while she was under the influence of alcohol, but he certainly would now. Butterfly swords? Who needs those when you have pointy shoes?
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Posted: Sat Dec 24, 2011 9:15 am
Bataar felt himself being swept by a brief moment of triumph as he watched Van try to deal with the stool that had sent her flying backwards. He really did feel terribly clever as he thought on the advantage that he'd hopefully just given himself and it was especially important that it was against Van, especially considering the outcome of their previous battle. Someone needed to win this, and he was certain that that someone could quite possibly be him.
Perhaps landing on the fighter's legs would also be to his advantage and, for a few glorious moments, he was unable to tell as he fumbled, trying to get back up rather inefficiently. He paused, in shock, when he felt something stabbing into his shoulder blade at quite a quick pace. Bat was certain now that Van was absolutely out to kill him and it took him a good few seconds to realize that she was merely kicking him. He reached out and clumsily grabbed onto the girl's ankle, twisting it with the desperation of any drunken man in a brawl, before scrambling away, nursing his shoulder as a kind of afterthought.
He grabbed onto an alarmed bystander in order to lift himself off of the ground and decided that his best bet was to ball his fists yet again in order to approach the brawl in a more traditional manner. Because he considered himself polite, he would wait for Van to get up, but he also expected her to fight his way.
There was, after all, something altogether charming about shoving one's fist into the face of another very deserving Lunarian. He would show Van how to fight like a real man without heels or even blades. As manly as he believed her to be, he thought that this would be a good lesson. "Get up and face me like a man!" he slurred, his green eyes narrowing. There was no better way to fight.
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Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 12:59 am
The night was long past the point of no return—there was no telling whether Van would be able to recall, let alone justify any of the actions she’d taken tonight. The only thing she knew for certain right now was that she was in a fight with Bataar. This tunnel vision, alcohol-induced or otherwise, would help her none. Her kicking was mechanical, rhythmic, and it was probably the only thing she was still capable of doing. As a fighter, it was good to know that she had violent drunk tendencies, rather than happy or sad ones. If only she could remember this later.
Van was hardly aware of the fact that her kicking hadn’t seemed to faze the captain in any way, let alone be able to wonder whether this was because she was ineffective or whether he was just experiencing the numbing effects of the alcohol. It didn’t matter. The Legionnaire noticed now, somewhat belatedly, that Bat had managed to catch hold of her right ankle and was twisting it in what had to be an abnormal angle. The pain only hit her after she had stared at it for a while, and she shrieked, pulling her leg back towards her body in the best way anyone in a drunken stupor could.
The Legionnaire was perfectly content to lay where she was for a while, cradling her leg as she shouted a string of incoherent curses at the man. At least, until he told her to stand up and fight him like a man. This was a sore nerve the Noble had struck many times before.
“I AM NOT A MAN!!” she roared in a rather unladylike fashion as she tumbled upright with a great deal of effort. She swayed on her high heels, trying her best to focus her vision on the hulking captain in front of her even as the world spun around her. Van took one step forward, and her injured ankle gave way underneath her. The fighter fell rather unceremoniously to the floor, knocking herself out cold.
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Posted: Tue Dec 27, 2011 8:33 am
Bataar found himself struggling to hold onto his thoughts as the bar fight progressed. If he were to have memories, they were going to be completely jumbled and senseless. It was entirely likely that he wouldn't even remember who had won and who had lost in the process of the fight, and if he remembered at all this was going to be a problem. As far as Bat was concerned there could be no fight without a victor-- it was almost an impossibility.
He was pleased that he'd at least seemed to do some damage to her ankle moments before. The Noble grinned and was considering giving himself a pat on the back as he watched the drunken fighter try to make out what had happened. He was feeling terribly skillful about the whole thing and expecting, not without good reason, that Van was going to stay down. The way he saw it, he'd already won, but he supposed a few more fists would not be particularly uncalled for in the midst of their manly bar fight.
He watched her stand and stood at the ready, his fists perfectly ready to inflict damage. "You are too a man!" he slurred, stepping forward to strike her and realizing, a moment too late, that Van was now at his feet.
Bataar stared down at the fighter and considered examining her for vital signs, but ultimately decided against it. She could take care of herself and besides-- this meant that he was the winner! He threw his fist into the air, basking in his triumph, failing to realize that five men were pushing him out of the bar until he was already on the street, drunk and alone, with Van's prone form beside him. He sighed, sat down, and went to sleep, hoping that he could kill through the mist of a hangover tomorrow morning when he had to explain why his head was pillowed on the fighter's breasts in the middle of the street.
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