Return of Reckoning

Nycta wrote:3 RoR GM's walk into a strip club downtown under the malignant gazes of a bike gang hanging around their choppers. A storm is brewing as this fateful moonless night descents upon the city. Walking past a couple of hipsters, soon to brutally realize that the strip club they are about to enter won't become their next "hip" place, Gumthorr turns his head only slightly towards a member of the gang, and meets his arrogant glance through his wooden helmet with the corner of his right eye. Time slows down as if caved-in on a Saturday night. The day is Sunday. In his eye, dwarwen hatred burns strong, turning his gaze into a maelstrom of molten vengeance. It's core, that appears brighter than Magicthigh's fists - who at the time is standing behind the dwarf, halfway to an all out combustion -, is revealing a grudge of unfathomable depth.

The biker that the dwarf was quick to identify as the leader of that motorized pack of hyenas soon breaks into a sweat as his eyes plunge into the inferno of the ironbreaker's gaze. As soon as his growing fear permits it, he lowers his head, trying to shake as little as his courage allows, and remains at that position staring blankly at the skull painted on his chopper's tank. He slowly realizes that nothing binds him into that blazing inferno, now roaring wildly deep in the dwarf's heart as if in the brink of enveloping his wooden armor in unwavering flames. Nothing but the very arrogance to stare down an Ironbreaker, arrogance that only moments ago evaporated in a mist of sweat and terror. An abnormal heaviness engulfs the space surrounding them, the pressure of the atmosphere feels like building towards an implosion. Raging through the twilight sky, a thunder restores the flow of time.

As the flash fades away, Gumthorr's infernal gaze is already fixed on the strip club's front door. All the heaviness seems to have retracted in his immovable stance, as he stares the door in silence that seems absolute.

The wizard impatiently disrupts it. "What the fk are we doing here? Why did I have to leave the forums, now that they are blooming due to the ddos, to come all the way here? Why did I had to be charged by the cab driver 56 dollars?" No reply eases his anger that now races his combustion. Next to him, the zealot inhales deeply, his raven skull cowl raised to the overcast heavens above them. He seems lost in his thoughts.

"Am I here to deny my god dwarf? Is that your will?" he says after a while. Gumthorr remains silent. "I will not act against the Raven God's Will - no armor piece, jewelry or weapon you or Torquemadra dig out of the database can bend my devotion to the Master of Change!" Reaching his leather belt with his fingers, the dwarf grasps a pouch and flings it above his left shoulder. Stack is quick to grab it. Through the darkness of his visage, his blue eyes, but trembling rays of light sucked in the eternal void a moment ago, now take on a bright green glow. "Are these?.." mumbles the zealot in excitement, weighting the velvet pouch on his palm "there must be almost ten of them in here!", he shouted. "Got them from a squig herder I pwned the other day in Kadrin Valley, the gobbo had a thing for shinnies."

"Now this is the deal Git", he continued, "ten extremely rare, top rank armor talisman fragments for five seconds. All I ask of you is to postpone its transformation should your god decides to intervene." Now ecstatic with anticipation for all this to be over so he can craft them and stuck even moar armor, the zealot finds it challenging to bring his head to nod in agreement. "Do we have a deal zealot?" asks Gumthorr once more, the radiance of his unrelenting will for vengeance, flowing from within his stare, bounces off of the glass panel behind the two towering bouncers to finally draw Stack's attention. "Yes, yes... by the Raven's Chaotic Will, we have a deal." replies the zealot almost indifferently, appearing distant, withdrawn in his ravenous desire to stuck moar armor. "Do not go back on your word heretic..." says the ironbreaker as heaviness starts spreading once again, briefly to retract "and stop using caps for chat's sake!"

"What about me? What will I get as compensation for my trouble?" intervenes the bright wizard who has grown even more impatient during their bargain, his greed now fueling the flames around his arms beyond combustion. "You are here to honor the alliance between our races. Honor from honoring it is all you are getting", says the dwarf calmly, firm in his position the whole time. "What about the 56 dollars at least?" replies the wizard in a resigned tone. The hipsters hurry inside the club looking over their shoulders in fear and curiosity.

"Did you really pay for the ride Magicthighs?", says the ironbreaker in a strict manner, his tolerance diminishing with each word he utters. "Of course not, I doombolted the fk out of that cab and split as the driver was making his white pants match the taxi's color... But that is not the point, Git got shinnies, I want some as well damn it!"

"Listen human", replied the dwarf abruptly, "for I 'll only say it once. You are here merely to ensure it will be caught and destroyed in the slim chance it manages to escape my assault and get out of range. Therefore, most likely you won't have to crisp a finger. You are with us only to ensure that I will not be kitted to humiliation by that creature once more like that accursed day in Thunder Mountain. I will not be ridiculed a second time just because you have grown ban-happy these days from all the "ETA" and "WTF?" posts on the forums and even resolved to the bottle to avoid getting off of your damn chair!" The wizard spoke no more and as the gang was slowly rolling out of the parking lot, the party of three approached the club's door.

The rubber sole of the ironbreaker's boot on the side of his face while he hugged the floor should not have come unexpected to the bouncer that demanded their weapons to be left with their care at the door. Overwhelmed by the dwarf's display of power, but a thousandth of the ironbreaker's strength, the bouncers backed off and the party of three entered the establishment of lust, seduction and -not so cheap- cheap drinks.

"Stay focused, stay alert" said the dwarf standing perfectly still near the central dancing pole, while the artist performing at the time stood as astonished as the clients. Dollar bills were scattering away from the ironbreaker's aura. He closed his eyes and appeared to be making a mental effort perhaps even beyond his capacity. In the meanwhile, the zealot was peeking into the pouch, marveled by the fragments while the wizard was picking as many dollar bills as he could before the dwarf would break his concentration and regain full conscience of his surroundings. The artist said nothing, nor did the clients who were almost drooling, stiff in their seats, as if hammered by the dwarf's huge, engraved stone two-hander. In the back, close to the bar, the bouncers were venting their frustration on the hipsters that had already made a complaint about the cocktail recipes and were now on their knees crying and promising that they would never set foot there again, saying they entered the club basically out of curiosity about the cosplay.

"Above us!", cried Gumthorr snapping out of his vision, "To the stairs, hurry!". The company immediately rushed to the flight of stairs across the room and soon as they reached the first floor, the ironbreaker paused shortly. "In there, my greatest foe yet is lurking in that room - it seems to be still unaware of our presence" he said quietly as he grabbed the thick wooden handle of his hammer. "Git, get ready. Magicthighs reduce that door to ashes!"

The wizard merely clapped his fingers and the door was no more in an instant. As Gumthorr charged in, hammer in hand and vengeance in heart, a storm of thunderbolts burst out of the open threshold. Stack gripped his pouch firmly and shouted "It has not transformed, this is your chance!". Not that anything would have made the dwarf hesitate. Less than five seconds later it was all over, the lightning vanished and Gumthorr was now standing in the doorway holding his hammer close to his face. "You knew this day would eventually come, my race's grudge holding is infinite as time itself", he said with a stone cold voice.

As the flames of revenge were extinguished by that single swing of his hammer and his eyes started regaining their warm brown color, he brought his hammer even closer to his face and whispered to the yellow crushed blob that was stuck on it, "Now we are even, Picachu!"





p.s: No GMs were harmed during the creation of this story - how could they, Pokemons are lame! It was only Magicthighs that got an STD since Gumthorr felt gracious enough to treat him to a Genisaurus special "side-gig". Github escaped this fate cause he was too eager to go home and "stack moar armor"! The hipsters found their last "hip" place somewhere in the desert.


(Please don't permaban!)