Bar Brawl

Marev Terra. I'll never forget the night I met him. The name means "Fist of Earth." And the man who bears that name more than lives up to it's meaning.


He walked into the bar, drawing a stare from every regular within the dingy room. It was a wonder he made it through the door. He was tall, probably six foot five, and he was built like a Mack truck. And he was dressed in the strangest getup I've ever seen. He wore a pair of leather pants and a leather vest, no shoes, a gunbelt with a revolver that could have easily been a cannon, and a pair of metal plated gloves. I didn't notice it at first, but there was a strange looking sword strapped to his back, too. It was curved slightly away from the wielder when it was held, opposite of a scimitar. With his unkempt black hair and world-weary green eyes, I wouldn't have been surprised if he had been raised on a farm. I was sitting at the back of the bar, but I can remember every detail with perfect clarity. His gaze quickly scanned the room as he walked about mid way down the bar and ordered the house ale. He seemed to glide, his gait was so smooth. It was unnatural, watching him walk. He sat down at the bar after he ordered, and pulled a roll of bills from a pocket on his vest and laid a few down on the bar. by this time, most of the other patrons had returned to what they were doing. But I continued to watch.

As he waited, I noticed with more clarity the tattoos covering most of his exposed skin. Most of them were just plain black, but some had a dash of color. there was something primal about them. They seemed to have some deep and ancient meaning, like they were from a long forgotten Indian tribe, or from some arcane ruins in the Amazon. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh as the bartender delivered his drink. I returned to my own ruminations after a few minutes of watching- he wasn't doing anything besides drinking his beer. After about an hour, a man I recognized but didn't know stood up from his booth in the corner and walked over to Marev. The crowd had dwindled considerably, it being a weeknight. He laid his hand on Marev's shoulder and said "I know why you're here, Tree-Hugger, but you won't take me without a fight." He then slammed Marev's face into the bar (I swear I heard the crunch of bone breaking.), sending his glass flying. Marev stood up, turned around and simply stated "Solomon Daemes; Magus of the Broken Ladder, you have assaulted the Hierarch and killed a Counselor of this city's Consilium. By that authority, I, Marev Terra, Sentinel and Magister of the Adamantine Arrow, do hereby place you under arrest. Submit now or suffer the consequences." Even with blood streaming down his face, he sounded every bit of that authority. I swear I heard lightning crack in the background, even though there was no rain expected for a week. Unfortunately for us, Solomon did not seem to experience the awe that I did.

What happened next I cannot explain, but it was easily the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. Solomon seemed to decay before my eyes, and dark flames began to flicker over his body. Before I knew what was happening, he had a chair and was swinging at Marev. He turned his head slightly, taking the blow on his shoulder. When he turned back, he had a grin on his face a mile wide. "Good! I was worried you were going to just give up." Marev said as he cracked his knuckles. I sat riveted by this exchange, while the rest of the patrons removed themselves from the premises. I don't blame them. There was something innately terrifying about this confrontation, as if worlds were going to collide. "It's somewhat ironic, isn't it?" Solomon said, his expression grim. "The power of Death, fighting for life, and the power of Life, fighting for death..." I pressed myself further into my corner, without much success. "Life and death are two sides of the same coin. And I don't much care for irony." Marev retorted. It seemed as they were both waiting for the other to make their move. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Solomon made his move. The shadows pulled themselves from around the room and wrapped a cloak around him so deep I couldn't see anything within. But Marev knew what he was doing. Like a bolt of lightning, he lunged forward, slamming into Solomon, and then into the wall. After that, things happened so fast, I can only attempt to describe it. The first thing I saw, Marev suddenly looked like he had spent the last six months in the grave. I was hit with the smell of decay, but then I witnessed the flesh heal and rebuild itself before my eyes. Marev let out a bestial roar and slammed his gauntleted fist into the mass of shadows. Solomon cried out, his cloak of shadows losing intensity. Then they pulled in tight around him, forming an ephemeral suit of armor. No sooner than that happened, and there was a shadow blade in his hand. He swung the blade down, cutting deep into Marev's shoulder. Marev slammed his forehead into Solomon's nose. This time, I can attest that the nose was broken. The shadow armor dissapated, along with the sword, and Marev slammed an elbow into Solomon's chest, cracking ribs. He stepped back, grabbed Solomon, and dropped the man's face right into his knee.

Marev then laid him out on his back, and crouched over him, hands moving back and forth about six inches above the body. When he was done, he stood up and walked over to the bar. He grabbed an untouched beer and emptied it onto the barkeep, who was huddling behind the bar. "Snap out of it." He said. "Here's some money for the chair and the wall. And a couple shots for the man in the corner." He dropped a wad of bills on the counter. And just when I thought the night couldn't get any stranger, a dark-haired woman stepped through the door and said "Mar, you were supposed to bring him in untouched. What is all of this?" "He told me I wouldn't take him without a fight, and I didn't want to dissapoint him." He said as he shrugged. He reached down and one-armed Solomon up onto his shoulder and made his way to the door. "Come on, you big lug, lets get out of here before the police show up. One of those patrons had to have called them." She said, taking his other hand in hers. And then they were gone. Just like that. Suddenly I realized I hadn't blinked at all during the encounter, and so blinked rapidly to wet my eyes as I walked over to where the barkeep was standing, staring at the door. "Give me some of your best whiskey." I said.