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 Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 6:24 pm
... And to think, he'd only wandered into town for a goddamned drink and some cigarettes.
He hadn't thought much of it at first; in fact, the sight of ANY substantial settlement was relieving after a week straight of rough travel and all around shitty luck.
For one, his 'traveling' bike (a charming old one-person flying craft that had obviously passed through several pairs of dirtied hands through the years) had finally gone belly-up while flying over a river and... well, thankfully he'd managed to escape the crash with only a few scratches and some mussed fur, but the majority of his supplies had been lost sans a single carry-bag of bare essentials... which consisted of a spare change, a bulging (though slightly burnt) wallet, a dented canteen, a silver flask and some cigarettes.
... Or more specifically, empty packs which HAD been filled with cigarettes that he'd managed to smoke through entirely over the past few day of 'roughing it' and following the river toward... wherever the hell it would take him. That's what people were supposed to do in a situation like this, right?
Surprisingly, it had eventually led him to civilization... which was how he found the bustling (not so) little city of Haet.
And how his epic tale of woe began.
So anyway, he wandered into town for some basics-- more cigs, a cold beer, and hell, maybe a decent meal-- without bothering to think too much, limping along through the street in search of a bar, tavern, cafe... hell, anything would do. If he saw someone staring, he just chalked it up to his dirtied silk shirt and vest, nothing more. Nope, they were probably just gawking at the scraggly traveler who looked like something a cat had just thrown up, that was all.
Never mind that there were QUITE a few of them doing it...
'The Greasy Hog'. That was the name of the first place he ran across and the very place he entered. It was a shoddy looking Hole In The Wall sort of joint befitting of the unsavory name, dark-walled, reeking of old vomit and various smokes (... the nicotine was all he zoned in on though, mmm), and full of surly, disgruntled, obnoxiously loud and quite obviously INTOXICATED men clustered by the counter.
And oh, did they ever stop and STARE at the strange, wiry little fellow in silk who'd just walked in.
But once again he was too burnt out to give a damn about noticing that, casually seating himself at the end of the bovine herd, grunting lightly at the barkeep for a cold beer before he set his bag at the base of the chair (which creaked) and half-turned oh so nonchalantly toward the closest of his... disturbingly LARGE fellow bargoers.
"Oi, man, you got a spare smoke I could bum?"
Funny... people didn't usually give him that sort of '******** YOU' death glare over such a simple request. Was it something he'd said?
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 6:45 pm
The same reception he himself had received upon his own entry into the town several days prior.
Alexander could have been described, by the less dirty-mouthed of the town's population, a 'dare devil' for his no-nonsense entry into the town. In fact, when he'd 'waltzed in', he'd done it as though he'd been AIMING to go there since he'd left wherever it was he had in the first place.
Which he would never admit to if he'd been asked.
However, like so very few other men, he had sought out his own 'luxury' in non-sexual based desires: Alcohol and trying to piss people off. Not to say he put -much- effort into the latter of the two, not exactly wishing to drag the attention of every man in the town to spite his existance.
Oh yes, Alex was -very- familiar with what the town was, and why he shouldn't have been in there.
In the middle of war time, a Koshka (especially a 'Hybrid Scum' like Alexander) in a Mench town would clearly be a special target of possible lynching if he made the wrong move. Which he was -oh- so tempted to. Especially when the Mench man sitting behind him suddenly basked their chair up to pinch his tail (Earning a muted hiss of 'The hell?' from Alex) on, what he could assume, purpose, hissing to their table mate:
'There's another one of them scummy furballs'.
Which prompted his attention well enough with what could have been described as a scowling leer over his shoulder to see.
If it was -female-, he was getting out of there as fast as possible. Koshka females did -not- need to hone in on him. Oooohhh he didn't want a 'OHAI, HALP ME I IZ ALL ALONE AND EVERYBUDDY HAETS (oh pun) MEH AND I NEED A STRONG MAN TEW SAVEZ ME' meeting.
Which, to say, he was -not- disappointed to see a little shrimpy (and idiot) boy trying to barter -something- off of a man at the counter.
Smart.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 7:46 pm
... Dirty looks, shitty service and 'scummy furballs', huh? Just what WAS it with this rotten sinkhole anyway?
Of course when he finally GOT his beer it was warmer than a glass of fresh piss and tasted no better, causing the 'shrimpy' boy to wrinkle his nose and choke back a disgusted hiss. Apparently his reaction had also been severely entertaining to the 'herd' beside him, openly guffawing so loudly that his ginger ears flicked back in an (unsuccessful) effort to dampen the awful sound. Stupid Mench assholes and their lack of scruples or--
... He paused right then as if struck by some grand epiphany, face lapsing into a vague expression of horror as he scanned the bar's occupants. Rounded ears and sallow, furless flesh everywhere, and no sign of a fin or tail (for what he could be). Well... s**t. s**t s**t s**t. This wasn't good at all, was it?
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he felt a sweaty, sticky, meaty hand clamp onto the end of his TAIL accompanied by a giggle, flinching sharply and half-reeling (for what he could without tearing his spine out) to view the massive, smirking offender behind him.
"Nice tail there, Sugar," he cooed in a disgustingly... well, it sure wasn't a SEDUCTIVE slur, and then laughed, releasing a bit as if to pet the thing. "What's a pretty little thing like you doin' all the way down h--" CRACK. "--MOTHER ********' LIL'b***h!"
The behemoth staggered back and nearly fell into another man behind him, shrieking profanities toward the (now thoroughly frizzed and disgruntled looking) one called 'Sugar' who had just spun around and slugged him in the jaw with considerable force for one so small.
Which, of course, drew the attention (and earned a moment of DEAD SILENCE) from everyone in the bar.
Would this end well?
Oh, probably not.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 7:53 pm
Oh that -MORON-.
Alex knew, for one, that that shrimpy boy had not only signed the wavier of his own life, but -HIS- as well, the silence of the bar for the moment killed when the man who had already pinched his tail between two chairs pushed it back further and Alex could -swear- he felt a crack in it.
Earning a -VERY- loud unhappy Kitty-battle cry esque Hiss-swear as he elbowed the jackass in the back of his head.
Then ******** yes, because almost immediately Alexander had to shove his chair forward and DUCK to miss the half-full liquor bottle suddenly -fly- out of the hands of the man's companion (Ugh, they both smelt like piss, frankly) to smash into the back of another man's head.
Causing said man, who was -much- bigger than Alexander by -all- means to turn and leer in his general direction as he righted himself, just to find that...
...
Why were they-....pointing... at.. hi-....
.......
"-YOU-."
".... Me."
The man hissed and picked up his chair 'casually' with one hand as if he were simply coming over to 'sit' with Alex. Yeah right, Alex knew better than to hang around when some man who looked ready to beat the -s**t- out of him was headed in his direction.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 9:08 pm
... Well it wasn't as if he'd seen another set of furry ears in the damned s**t hole of a bar-- and that b*****d had just ASKED for it by grabbing his tail, dammit! He should've known better to yank the thing, even drunk! It was a completely provoked and perfectly justified retaliation!
Although the rest of the bar didn't seem to think so as, with the first shot fired (or bottle thrown, more like), all hell promptly broke loose and no less than THREE grossly oversized men with stained shirts practically THREW themselves at the smaller Koshka lad who, as if by instinct, all but leapt out of his chair and onto the bar counter to spin around and kick the nearest one straight in his face... which managed to topple him like a tipped bottle of booze.
If only he could've fallen and taken out the other two, but they were both still on their feet and now twice as pissed at the sight of their incapacitated little friend, lurching after their victim with shrieks and hollers...
And s**t, one of them had managed to snag him by the tail again!--
Which warranted another reflexive reel-and-attack response, turning and practically LAUNCHING himself at the poor b*****d who'd just warranted having his face ripped off for that little mistake, screaming at he went down...
But alas, even a little tiger like the 'shrimpy fellow' couldn't hold his own forever , and as more and more smelly rats seemed to leap out of nowhere to surround him... well, it was only a matter of time, huh?
Not that he wouldn't go down without a damn good fight first.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 9:33 pm
Alexander's first instinct was to duck underneath the table, looming there for a moment before the man with the chair was close enough for the more muscular of the two Koshka in the theorhetical 'Burlap Sack' to suddenly -HEAVE- said table up and over onto him, even if it took a moment of arguement to sandwich his first problem....
Just to feel something -smash- against the back of his head, not really phasing him, but earning a loud hiss of disapproval before Alexander spun around to all but DIG his nails (which were sharper and less 'nail' like, akin to a cats) across his assailant's face, earning a loud swear and.... more attention drawn to him, causing him to swear again.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
He was swearing repeatedly in his mind before he found himself taking advantage of his Koshka 'lithe'ness (though he still had more Mench-like bulk, damned genetics) to shove himself between several of the man who were looking at him in order to clamber onto a table (not being 'graceful' enough to just jump up onto one when there were people grabbing onto his tail, just to get a kick to the face), from which he practically -LEPT- down from to land on another man to hiss, swear, and book it to the other side of the bar.
Not before passing between the men who were OH so intent on little Vince's neck, dragging a foot underneath one of them to topple them.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 10:25 pm
Ironically, the scraggly lad (which, while it had yet to be revealed, was indeed a man who answered to 'Vince' here and there) had been thinking exactly the same thing as Alexander, repeating curses over and over... now not just in his brain either, hissing and spitting and swearing like a sailor as he thrashed and struggled violently against his 'group' of aggressors and...
Oh hey, one of them had just gotten bowled over by a-- ..................
s**t, there really HAD been another Koshka in there!
Apparently the 'tag team assault' (which it wasn't really, but the drunken bastards seemed to take it that way) had been surprising enough to get the rest of them backstepping for a moment too: an opportunity that 'Shrimpy' wasn't about to waste, practically BOLTING for the door...
... Until he realized that his bag was STILL sitting by the spot where his seat had been, GOD DAMMIT.
And it wasn't just something he could leave behind, either... so against ALL better instincts the latter Koshka peeled back to snatch it by the handle before he tried again... though it seemed as if the door of opportunity had been slammed shut in his face, because SOMETHING or someONE had yet again clamped a hand on his tail (damn having such a convenient limb to tug on) and dragged him backwards from salvation, earning a high pitched yelp, a hiss... and a face full of SHARP NAILS.
... Which, sad for him this time, earned a scream and a VERY HARD punch back in HIS FACE.
OW. s**t s**t s**t.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 10:37 pm
Hissspit.
Alexander was turning into quite the Tomcat, frankly, having seized a nearby chair and swung it around with all the force he could, which, to say, was a lot. Especially when said chair connected with some man's GUT earning a... partially cracked chair and a crumpled body in the floor.
-HOPEFULLY- he wouldn't die. Because Alexander didn't want some Mench kid continuing the 'I HATE KOSHKA THEY KILLED MY DADDY!' routine that was becoming SO popular.
That didn't keep him from responding to the yelp (to determine what it was) just in time to see the other kid get a fist to the face.
God -DAMMIT-. If the shrimp hadn't been one of his own, Alexander wouldn't have given a damn. But 'What Ifs' weren't his strong suit, instead leaving the rather 'Old Style Gothic'ly (Not emo gothic, sorry no poetry please) dressed hybrid to continue with his weapon of choice.. which consisted of SMASHING his chair into the back of the Mench that had a hold of his 'allies' tail.
"MOVE I-"
Mid yell, he got a partially smashed (and previously thrown and blamed on him) bottle SHARP EDGES FIRST to his face... not jabbed, fortunately, but dragged across it.
DEEPLY.
Which resulted in a new hiss of pain and a lovely GUSH of blood from Alexander's face.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 11:07 pm
... Idiot.
That guy had been trying to call him an idiot!
It was funny and almost a little sad that such petty trivialities were the things that he noted first given the hellish situation, actually spinning 'round to growl a sharp retort to the comment despite the fact that he'd just taken a BLINDING PUNCH... right in time to witness his own possible ally getting a spiked booze bottle RAKED ACROSS HIS FACE.
Just OW. ********, that looked like it had to--
"SHI--AH!" Too bad he hadn't been paying attention to his own troubles, though, because someone had just grabbed his arm and jerked him back with every intention of whipping him 'round for another slug to the head... but managed instead to make his left shoulder give a loud (and EXTREMELY PAINFUL) crack sound as it torqued back... without him.
... Which prompted him to KICK the offender in his FACE with a howl of RAGE (...albeit pained rage) and then spin back around to club the b*****d who'd nailed Alex right in the back of the skull... with his CARRY BAG.
Yeah, desperate times called for cheap blows and clubbing people with luggage, but he just wanted to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE BEFORE HE KILLED SOMETHING DAMMIT.
....... or got killed. That too.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 11:28 pm
'It' had actually been the word he'd been aiming for, but it wasn't as though now was the time to exchange mental arguements over such things as Alexander reeled back, hissing and slamming a hand to his face which was bleeding profusely.
Which, when said hand was moved from his face and placed on a table it SMEARED all down the front of the wood as he slipped, catching himself in time to hear his assailant go down, causing him to frantically clear the blood out of his eyes...
And quickly search around for something resembling an 'exit' from this horrible situation which, so far, was a 'MAUL THE KOSHKA BASTARDS' party.
Well, more than eight between them and the door a-..
"OI."
It was a quick "LOOK." to his fellow feline in crisis as Alexander was already half-way scaled up the liquor-cabinet (Asteria would have cried) which... heeeyyy, if you went up that way you'd be in the rafters! Which would be a much easier trip for two more lithe Koshkas whom hadn't been drinking as opposed to bigger and more cumberson Mench, whom had been.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2008 11:53 pm
OI?! Oi wha-- oh. Oh, now THAT made some sense.
It took a split second for 'Shrimpy's' brain to click around what Alex had just motioned, but once he did, the latter Koshka booked it to plunge after him, hefting the carry-bag across his NON-excruciating shoulder and practically vaulting over the bar counter to follow suit.
Being a much smaller fellow than his momentary 'parter' (of sorts), he made surprisingly swift work of the liquor cabinet-- even with just his one useable arm-- and was up in the rafters within a few seconds, beating a hasty retreat JUST out of the enraged herd's reach like some sort of spooked monkey straight for the door and--
POP BANG BANG.
OW. s**t. Okay, GUNS SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN ALLOWED IN BARS AND THAT HAD ******** HURT, THE STOCKY BASTA-- ... no, keep moving for the door, he told himself; save the cursing for a time when there was no imminent threat of DEATH BY ANGRY MOB.
And oh, did he practically take off flying the second he hit the ground at the doorway, clutching his adorably BLOODIED SIDE (thank god the aim had been shitty enough just to catch him an inch or so in but STILL), and just glancing behind him for a split second to... well, make sure the other guy hadn't gotten lynched in the past three seconds without him.
God, talk about a BAD DAY... and he'd only just ARRIVED THERE!
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 12:42 am
God -dammit- he hoped that guy accidentally shot one of his friends, Alexander being quick to follow behind his new 'friend' across the rafters and hitting the ground with a louder 'thud' than he would have liked. Damn MUSCLES.
However, said muscles also absorbed a lot of shock from the landing, allowing him to all but -throw- himself out the door with more ease than a smaller being might have.
Speaking of smaller beings, there was one in front of him who seemed to be 'adorably bloody' on one side, causing him to sigh and, thank god to his genetics to once, announced "Up with you." before, though it'd probably earn a good hiss fit if the kid felt stubborn enough, scooping the shrimp up.
Oh -damn- he weighed more than he'd expected.
Apparently there -was- some flesh on the kid.
However, going -outside- hadn't solved the situation to be much better than it had been before. Because now there were -TWO- Koshka, both bloodied up with CURSES being hurled after them.
-THIS-... earned attention.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 12:58 am
Well, at least two of those three bullets (or lead balls or WHATEVER the hell that rickety-a** gun had for ammunition) had missed and just shredded some ceiling-- and even the one that HAD hit didn't seem fatal by any means, just a little... runny and irritating and OH s**t WAIT WHAT WAS GOING ON NOW WHY WAS HE OFF THE GROUND--
At least Alex hadn't grabbed him by tail or something similarly stupid (which would've warranted the natural PANIC AND ATTACK reflex before he could stop himself), but the sudden realization of not walking anymore DID bewilder him... until his brain quit stalling and he realized he'd just been picked up.
... By Big Fellow Koshka Dude.
......... Uh. Okay OW OW OW s**t YEAH THAT HAD ALSO DONE SOMETHING BAD ON THE SHOULDER HOLY s**t MOTHER F--
"J-Just what the hell're pulling, guy?!" he more or less choked (though from pain or bewilderment was anyone's guess), tempted to squirm and fight him like he really wanted to, but...
Well, then again, getting dropped on his a** might not be a good thing, considering that he had sort of just gotten SHOT a little and torqued his shoulderblade out of alignment AND gotten a black eye that was probably going to be sticking with him for a good week.
God how he needed a cigarette right about now.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 1:11 am
Alexander -tried- so hard to keep a straight face, instead mixing a 'straight' face with some awkward twisted expression and mating it with a rather annoyed face to make some odd lovechild look.
It seemed to be a natural expression for him as it stayed there without twitching for a second or so.
"More you move, more that'll bleed and then you'll be left to the wolves." he stated flatly, taking no regard for the shrimp's injured arm and hoisting Vince up a bit as he found himself having to duck down, how cliche, an alley (BAD IDEA), reaching a series of trash cans which, after hoisting Vince up over his shoulder, made the -best- scaling object possible for a man who -somehow- could find the most INSANELY small of cracks to fit his fingers into when climbing.
Fortunately that made it harder to be followed when he FINALLY clambered up onto the roof.
"Damned Mench blood -is- good for something." he commented off handedly, finally setting his 'SHOULDER PAL' back on his feet.
Now where to go.. so many rooftops to choose from.
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2008 1:36 am
O... kay, that sort of made marginal sense from a theoretical aspect, but really, he wasn't off that badly and was perfectly capable of OH HOLY GOD THAT HURT LIKE HE'D JUST BEEN STABBED IN THE BACK =AND= THE SIDE WITH A RUSTY KNIFE.
Oooh, did that little shift from carry-on to shoulder luggage earn a HISS of pain from little 'Shrimpy', choking on the string of expletives he'd been trying to get out and tail practically TRIPLING in size and it promptly flared out like a giant ginger cactus.
He was NOT happy, but he also wasn't stupid enough to fight his... uh, carrier?... at a time when being dropped would probably land him a fatal or at least VERY UNCOMFORTABLE crash landing in the alley below (or some equally unpleasant looking trash cans, ew).
Well at least he'd gotten a bit of vengeance by bleeding all over Alex's shoulder and adding yet ANOTHER stain to the man's clothing, which... okay it was really a shitty silver lining he'd made up and, suddenly back on his feet, the latter male looked just a little green around the gills.
"This city's... goddamned crazy," he growlpanted, back to the controlled clutching of that side and forcing his posture back to vaguely straight. Were they on a roof?... "All I wanted was a... cold drink and some cigs... s**t..."
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