Learning Things the Hard Way in The School of Hard Knocks
As Sarnith's paw searches for Zocalo's throat it first makes contact with the otter's nose which received not insignificant damage when he was smashed in the face by the ferret's thick skull. The fresh hit causes a wave of pain which makes Zocalo gasp and stars to explode in the otter's line of vision. Desperate now, he turns to the only other weapon he has left: his teeth. With a savage snarl he leans forward and tries to latch on to whatever gets in his way first.
Sarnith sits on a stool backwards so that his elbows rest on the bar and he faces towards the entrance. Propped against the bar next to the ferret is a spear and he has a tankard of ale held loosely in one of his paws as he surveys one of the other tables. At the table he looks at is a group of rats playing a card game, it looks as though its getting quite heated as there is quite a pile of mismatched valuables in the center of the table.
With a swoosh the door to the tavern swings open and Zocalo can be seen framed in the entryway. He stands there for a moment, hands on his hips with every intention of making a grand entrance but when he does not get the attention he was expecting he takes a hesitant step forward into the tavern, narrowly missing being hit by the door as it closes behind him. That is merely luck, however, and not good timing on Zocalo's part. With a bit less bravado he makes his way towards the bar and stands there, trying to look as if he is well aware of what he is supposed to be doing but, in actuality, failing at it.
Sarnith raises an eyebrow as the otter enters then lets a short snort go as the beast arrives at the bar. The hob lifts his ale to his face for a good slug before taking the time to properly look the otter over, after his quick appraisal and judgement of the beast he takes a further swig of his ale. The ferret keeps an oh really? look on his face as he waits to see what the otter might get up to next.
Zocalo's mind is racing as he tries to figure out who to talk to, what to do and, how best to look appropriate for the situation he's gotten himself into. He was not expecting to step into a room full of vermin, especially not a room that boasts skeletons for decoration. In desperation his glance slides over to Sarnith and he tries to keep his voice steady as he asks, "Say, mate! What's good here?" His accent is very proper and his pronunciation very clear, another obvious indication that he is most definitely not from around these parts.
Sarnith lets his teeth show with a large grin as he replies " Depends on wha'cher's river dog's mouth can take, et's mostly der cheep sor' 'ere, o course I's think dey's got some juice's back der ter if'ns yer's would arsk real nice'erly. " As the hob speaks his tone grows more mocking and the look in his eyes changes to out right laughter. That being said and to cover up a billet of laughter that threatens to spill out Sarnith takes a long draft of his ale.
Zocalo understood about every other word out of the ferret's mouth but what came across most clearly was the mocking attitude. Zocalo's eyes narrow slightly and he stands up just a bit straighter. He pounds his fist on the bar and turns to whoever is standing behind it closest. "I'll have what he's having." He points at Sarnith, just in case the bartender couldn't understand him. Sooner than he would've liked, a tankard is slid in front of him, wetness sloshing out of it.
Sarnith cannot suppress the laughter as he sees that the otter just got himself a tankard of the cheapest ale that they serve here, it tastes down right vile, but it gets one drunk with good efficiency. Once the hobs last peals of laughter fade away the toothy grin returns to his face as he turns on his stool so that he will be able to better see the otters reaction to the cheep ale. Sarnith's eyes drop back to their oh really look after he turns and he half raises his own tankard in anticipation.
At the nerve-grinding sound of the ferret's laughter, Zocalo grits his teeth and bravely grabs hold of the tankard. He pauses a very brief moment to mentally apologize to his mother then turns to face Sarnith, his expression now one of "yeah so?" and raises his ale. "Cheers!" He then proceeds to take a huge swallow. The sensation Zocalo experiences thanks to this mistake is one that, for the most part, defies describing. The taste hits him first then his esophagus catches on fire followed quickly by his stomach. His eyes water and he closes them tightly. Slamming the tankard onto the bar, he pushes it away and gasps for air. A few seconds pass before he is able to speak again and when he does he asks, "How can you /possibly/ drink that?" Zocalo is now leaning heavily against the bar, tears still coming out of his eyes. He dare not look at Sarnith, knowing how the ferret is most likely going to respond to this turn of events but, to be quite honest, Zocalo doesn't care anymore. For the moment.
Sarnith has to lower his tankard to the bar as a guffaw files from his throat and his free paw slaps his knee repeatedly. Once the racking of his laughter subsides and the paw that was doing the knee slapping flicks a tear away from his eyes he says " Dat river dog, is cause I's 'ad several other tings ter drink first! " The grin plastered to the hobs face seems to of grown larger somehow as he raises up his own tankard and slowly takes a mouthful of the foul liquid. In truth the ferret has gotten used to the taste of the cheep ale and has been torturing his liver with the stuff for some time. Once he sets the tankard back down he continues " An et's a cryin shame dat's is, yer's should'a jus' asked nice fer der juice like I's saids heh. "
Zocalo rubs his face with his paws several times to get rid of the tears. He blinks, coughs, and seems to be getting over it. His voice is hoarse but after a bit more throat clearing is fine. "Well I'm not touching /that/ again." He eyes the tankard disdainfully. Finding a stool nearby he pulls it up and sits as comfortably as possible on the rickety piece of furniture. Now that he's made his debut with the ale Zocalo feels a bit more at ease for some reason. But he meant it when he said he wasn't touching the tankard again and he doesn't bother to ask for anything else. Sitting with his head in his paws, Zocalo heaves a sigh.
Sarnith emits a low chuckle at the otters comment then slowly holds out his tankard in a mock toast than empties the rest of his tankard slowly, as if relishing the taste. The ferret slams the tankard down on the bar top to notify the bar keep who slides the hob a fresh tankard of the same cheep swill. Once the ferret gets his paw around the new tankards handle he says " Den et's yer loss der river dog, course der's plunty more drink back der if'ns yer's still fellin like showin der assorted riffraff dat yer's not as yeller as ya jus' made et seem. "
'Der assorted riffraff' is going to have to be content with just one show for the evening. Zocalo may be young and naive but he isn't stupid. Getting himself drunk in a situation like this one, dressed the way he is, would only end badly. Nevertheless, he does reach out and draw the despised tankard a bit closer to make it appear that he is actually participating. He eyes Sarnith with a sidelong glance as the hob receives his new tankard but Zocalo doesn't rise to the ferret's challenge. He seems to consider something for a moment then asks, "What is this place anyways?" He isn't referring to the tavern but he doesn't clarify.
Sarnith lets a further chuckle escape as the otter draws the tankard towards itself, then chooses to take the wrong meaning from what the otter said, just because it will let him get another jibe in, he speaks slowly in a condescending tone " Dis 'ere river dog be's a tavern, et's a place wher beasts go ter get summat ter eat er ter get well and good 'ammerd. " once he finishes speaking another large grin grows on his mug and he takes a demure sip from his fresh tankard. After his sip he sets the ale down on the bar top and shifts on his stool slightly so that he is leaning on the bar again.
Zocalo rolls his eyes very obviously at the ferret's response and momentarily considers simply ignoring Sarnith for the remainder of this sad evening. But he can't. His young, hot-blooded, highly offended ego simply will not allow it. With fresh resolve he grabs the tankard, takes a swill, grits his teeth to smother the reaction, replaces it on the bar, and turns to face the hob. "I would advise you to stop insulting me, sir." He coughs slightly, but manages to keep his mouth closed.
Sarnith has a grin that seems like it just keeps growing, especially after the otter speaks and drinks again. In a manner designed to stress that he does not care about what the otter said Sarnith says " Oh, did I's no' explain et well'nuff fer yer's river dog? do I's need ter's use smaller words? er is all dat woody heducation' make et hard ter thin'? " as he speaks he sets an elbow on the bar and curls the hand connected to that arm into a fist and rests his cheek against it.
Fortunately, Zocalo isn't drunk. And thanks to his 'woody heducation' he knows more than just history. Unfortunately, he /is/ outraged. His face contorts and in one miraculously smooth motion, the otter cocks his right fist back and sends it flying towards Sarnith's cocky face.
Sarnith has already had several tankards of ale, not enough to affect his speech, which is how others can tell that he is well and truly hammered, so when the otters fist flies the hob doesn't notice it until its about to connect with his jaw. The ferret has about enough time to start moving his head backwards in an attempt to atleast deflect some of the blows energy, but it still connects with a nice hard packing sound. Fortunately the one good thing about being on the high blood alcohol content side is that one feels less pain, sure that punch stings, but not all that bad. Sarnith's face opens into a grin and hint of red appears visible on one of his teeth as he leans forwards towards the otter pushing himself off of the stool with the elbow that rests on the bar. As the hobs feet touch the floor his neck muscles come into play accelerating his heads movement further as he swings the top of his skull towards at the otters nose.
Not an experienced fighter, Zocalo isn't expecting the quick response Sarnith comes back with. With an undignified yelp and a painful crunching noise he is thrown over backwards onto the floor but instinctively rolls and rebounds into a crouched position near the now toppled stool. Adrenaline takes over and he leaps upwards towards Sarnith with a growl aiming to tackle the ferret and take him down backwards.
Sarnith's grin grows as he sees the otter spring back up, but his limbs are slower to respond than normal thanks to the amount of alcohol he has consumed, instead of attempting to move it looks as if the ferret were going to make a grab at the otter as he comes but as his arms are slow off the mark he has them only about half raised as the otter flies into him. He teeters only momentarily before the otters momentum carries him backwards onto the floor, his right arm flails out and sends the stool he had been siting on spinning off across the tavern as he crashes to the floor, his left arm however gets set in position to grab the otter in a half bear hug, if Sarnith can move quickly enough.
Zocalo overestimated the amount of force it would take to knock a burly ferret off of a barstool. That and he didn't really think about what he was going to do once he'd knocked the ferret over. He manages to avoid the bear hug but ends up crashing to the ground alongside the ferret, momentarily dazed. Shaking his head, he goes to stand up.
Sarnith rolls over with the limber grace of an alcoholic, he is slightly dazed as well. As he starts to push himself up the hob sees that the otter is in a similar situation so he lunges at the beast with both paws outstretched, and makes a grab for the otters red tunic. All the while the grin stays on the ferrets face, if nothing else it looks like he is having a pretty good time, even with a dribble of red in the corner of his mouth.
"Aaaaahh!" Zocalo is pulled over sideways, jerked to the ground by the fact that his clothing is too well made. He doesn't know what else to do so he lashes out with his back paws, kicking hard at Sarnith's stomach.
Sarnith grunts as he hits the floor again, and begins to reach for the otters shoulder with his right paw as its feet connect with his gut. With a whoosh the air shoots out of the hob, his right paw slaps down flat on the floor but he manages to keep his grip on the otters tunic with his left paw. As the ferret takes a short breath and discovers that the wind has been mostly knocked from him he exercises a bit of his brawn and tries to reel the otter in closer by its tunic so that he wont be able to use his foot paws.
Feeling himself being drawn in, Zocalo reaches out with his arms and grabs for anything he can get. Obviously punching is not an option here as they are not only on the ground but also much too close in proximity to get any power behind a hit. In desperation, Zocalo struggles to find the hob's throat so as to throttle him and hopefully get him to let go.
Sarnith can feel the otters paws trying to get a solid grip on his throat, well two can play at this game! he thinks. The ferrets right paw lifts from the floor and swings around towards the otters throat as his left paw tries to keep a grip on the otters tunic. All the while the hob works off of short breaths as his wind still eludes him.
As Sarnith's paw searches for Zocalo's throat it first makes contact with the otter's nose which received not insignificant damage when he was smashed in the face by the ferret's thick skull. The fresh hit causes a wave of pain which makes Zocalo gasp and stars to explode in the otter's line of vision. Desperate now, he turns to the only other weapon he has left: his teeth. With a savage snarl he leans forward and tries to latch on to whatever gets in his way first.
The grin finally drops from Sarnith's face as the otters teeth clamp onto the fleshy part of his his right paw near the thumb, ok this was good wholesome fun but biting? is there anything that these woodlanders won't resort to in an honest tavern brawl? With his eyes squinting down from the shock of pain that finds its way to his alcohol laden brain he jerks as hard as he can with his left paw and brings his head around again trying to crack the top of his skull against the side of the otters head.
Zocalo's eyes may be open but he isn't seeing much thanks to the hectic activity going on around him and the zillion messages his brain is trying to process. Sarnith's head hits its intended target and Zocalo jerks his head back, teeth still attached to the ferret's paw. He's pretty well dazed from the head trauma and his body goes limp for a few seconds before tensing up again.
The pain from the bite intensifies as the otters head jerks Sarnith's paw along with it, the pain and combination of his adrenaline kicking in starts to clear the ferrets alcohol fogged brain. The hob takes advantage of the otters momentary lapse by letting go of its tunic and using his freed left paw to reach out for the otters head fur. At about the same time as the otter tenses back up the ferret tries to pull his right paw upwards.
Feeling his tunic being freed, Zocalo releases Sarnith's right paw and violently brings both of his knees upward in order to drive a wedge between himself and the ferret therefore pushing them apart. At the same time he does this he pulls his head backwards thereby avoiding the hob's left paw. The idea behind all of this sudden movement is to get himself back on his feet again which will require much more freedom of movement than he currently has. He pulls his front paws in and plants them on the ground preparing to push himself upward and back.
Sarnith finally regains his breath as his mouth sets to a prim line, now that most of his few mental facilities are back in order and he quickly sees what the otter is up to. The ferret brings both of his paws down flat on the floor after the otters knees come up in preparation to thrust himself upright. Sarnith gets his foot paws untangled and straighted out then starts to push himself upright as quickly as he can, as he rises he decides its time to stop playing nice and hacks a wad of slightly bloody spittle as best he can towards the otters face, hoping to hit his eyes.
Zocalo regains his footing and disdainfully wipes the spit and a lot of other blood off of his face and away from his eyes. He takes advantage of the brief pause in the action by taking a defensive position, right foot behind the left foot and off-center by a few degrees. In so doing he presents a narrower target to the ferret. His paws are fisted, both drawn in fairly close to his face so as to protect it but still allow him to see. Wordlessly, he eyes Sarnith, his whole being buzzing with adrenaline.
Sarnith gets back upright, then hunches down slightly and turns so that his right shoulder is facing the otter and pulls his paws up so that they are below his chin, seemingly leaving his face open. Once positioned thus the ferret twists his upper body to the right as he takes a step towards the otter with his left foot as he brings his left paw around curled into a fist aimed oddly at the otters sternum. While that punch is being thrown the ferrets right paw slips down lower to gut level and cocks back.
Zocalo is all focus right now. Soundlessly he moves to block Sarnith's left paw with his left forearm in a sweeping side block and follows through by stepping forward with his right foot and bringing his right elbow up and over aiming to smash it into Sarnith's head.
Sarnith opens his left paw after it is deflected and tries to turn it back to get a grip on the otters arm. As he tries to counter the downward elbow by bending his knees and lowering his head he lets his right paw fly, it has dropped to just below belt height as the downward elbow clips the hobs nose, that blow causes a bit of pain, but fails to cause a gusher and his right paw continues on the path of a straight punch thrown from the non-exposed shoulder.
Despite his best efforts, Zocalo has reached his limit. He is, after all, young and fairly inexperienced. So while he manages to avoid being grabbed he does not successfully dodge the punch Sarnith has been saving up and finds himself thrown backwards, arms flailing in front of him in an undignified manner. He almost loses his balance but manages at the last minute to salvage what's left of his dignity by not falling backwards on his tail. However the damage has been done and he's a sitting duck for whatever Sarnith decides to throw next.
The toothy grin from earlier returns to Sarnith's face as sees the opening he has been waiting for, with his right paw he lashes out to grab the otters left shoulder as the otter barely regains his balance, while his left paw cocks back then springs forward in another swing, this one aimed squarely at the otters nose. The right paw is intended to keep the otter from being able to move after the blow connects so that another one may follow, or should it miss to pull the otter in close for another head butt to the bridge of his nose.
Zocalo is dazed, bloody and completely helpless to defend himself as he is grabbed and held in position for the fatal blow. True to aim, the ferret's fist smashes into his nose, completely breaking whatever small bones he might still have had intact. There is no sound from the otter as his eyes roll back into his head and his body goes limp held upright only by Sarnith's fierce grip on his shoulder and even then barely.
Sarnith cocks his fist back for another blow as he sees the reaction to the first, he slowly lowers his left fist then laughs slightly and shakes his head. The ferret calls over to the barkeep for the strongest stuff he has behind the bar as the ferret takes the otters right arm with his left and tosses it over his shoulder. Once the bar keep returns with a shot of the potent liquor Sarnith takes a very small sip of it, then pours the rest of it over his right paw, who knows who else this otter may of bitten? He lets the bar keep to know to put his drinks for the night and the otters on his tab, then proceeds to haul the otter across town back to his shop where he keeps a spare bed on display down stairs. Once he gets the otter tossed on the bed the hob goes ahead and locks up his shop still laughing slightly, he wants to have a chat with this fellow when he finally wakes up.
THE END
