RP:Pirates and Nomads!

Premise - Barnabas unleashed some street justice on some scrupulous characters in the Kelay Tavern, leaving one man on death's door! Kazeem Ansari, Neophyte of the Warrior's Guild steps in to stop the barbaric onslaught. A fight erupts!

• • • • We didn't save our earlier posts that lead up to this :(****

Barnabas Bones stood, across a table from Kazeem, his back to a wall. A man was incapacitated upon that table between them whose fate depended on his timely arrival to a healer's. This unfortunate fellow was presently the object of contention between Kazeem and Barnabas, the latter of whom had a none too discrete reverse grip on a fork at the edge of the tabletop nearest his waist. Kazeem would be right if he considered this to be a ploy of misdirection, for while Barnabas held that fork rather obviously with his left hand, his right had taken purchase somewhere behind his back where his beltline would have been. He didn't appear to be wearing a belt, though; he wore an overlapping mess of torn rags which, piled atop each other and patchworked together as they were, amounted to something of a rag-cloak. It was tattered and stained, and it was comprised of many soiled fabrics, some of which both looked and smelled as if they were dragged through a sewer, or at least a bog. The lack of visible belt or blade aside, that rag-cloak could easily conceal some small weaponry, and that right hand was definitely up to some hidden thing. Barnabas' posture itself indicated a man who was not just very much at the ready for violence, but also one remarkably comfortable with it and this tension that often preceded it. He had already told the desert warrior he wouldn't let him be off with the wounded man; now he simply eyed Kazeem with a terse stare, studying him for movement and fighting spirit.

Kazeem has been standing behind and between the pair on ne'er-do-wells whom the pirate has made a public spectacle of manhandling in such a manner he has the occupants of this establishment cowering in terror. One hand lazily rests upon the injured man to his left, while the frozen-in-terror accomplice seems to have become more furniture than man as he has become caught between these two opposing forces. The gazes of Kazeem and Barnabas have not left one another, locked in a clash of wills that seems never-ending. The fork is of course noted, but it’s the man's eagerness for the desert nomad to make his move first the informs the Ansari that to do so would be foolish indeed. Traps were, and still very much are, a common ploy for those whom dwell out in the sands of the Nameless, the attire almost required to survive often offering many places to hide blades and various other weapons (A damn pit-viper once!) for those who'd wish you harm under the guise of friendship. So, as a warrior, the neophyte simply says to the pirate. "Then a wager. A fight, me vs you, outside the tavern. You win, do with them as you wish, I win, I take this one to the healer and you conduct the rest of your business elsewhere." He'd also quickly use his free right hand to pad the pouch on his hip, the jingle of coins clearly heard as he says. "We could even make it interesting, if you've the spine for it." A poor attempt to goad the obviously skilled in the verbal arts of emotional manipulation, but such is not the Kaz's forte. He just felt compelled to save a man's life and rebuke this cutthroat who holds those within the tavern hostage with his barbaric way of business.

Barnabas noted how naive Kazeem was not. Many men and beasts before had been much quicker victims of even plainer deceits. But the pirate's nostrils flared and his eyes remained fixed fast upon the good samaritan while he was beckoned with a wager. Mentally, he digested this in a few different ways. For one, he intimidated Kazeem. For two, Kazeem was experienced; he knew to negotiate for small concessions and prioritize the safety of others at risk, and to do so in a way that would appeal to greed and ego. Barnabas wasn't greedy -odd for a pirate, really- but if he were, couldn't he take that purse off of Kazeem's broken body regardless? Barnabas sensed he an advantage here, if not only because Kazeem sought to negotiate different terms, and he broke into motions to sieze it. "No," is all he said, and as he did he spun the fork in his left hand. It was a flashy movement, but also effectively turned the prongs to face Kazeem. Barnabas lifted it then from the table and with a snap of his elbow and flick of his wrist he repurposed that fork into an improvised throwing knife and sent it flying towards Kazeem's center mass. Behind the flying fork, Barnabas lunged across the table and mounted what was his more focused and substantial attack; thus it was revealed what tricky thing the pirate's hand had been reaching out for behind his back. Somewhere around a fold of cloth and a pin was coiled and concealed a very simple but very deliberately configured weight and hemp rope. This rope was about two feet long and while one end concluded with a large knot, the other was braided around a lead weight about the size and shape of a chicken egg. With a purposeful tug behind his back at the knot-handle, Barnabas lurched and twisted his torso as he sprang bodily upon the table, slinging this makeshift flail around and before him. The lead weight would have been difficult to identify and track as it swung forth from behind the pirate's back, horizontally across from his hip towards its target's head.

Kazeem takes a mental note of how similar the man's tactics are to the marauders of his home, strength and savagery blended together with a dexterity and calculated thought that is masked by what seems to be a simple minded brute, and with that the nomad knows he is dealing with a most dangerous type of man. But thoughts of character are tossed aside as the fork-turned projectile is sent forth demanding little answer as a whole itself, for under the cloak he wears is the studded-leather breastplate he has chosen as his main source of armor and it offers more than enough protection from the center-mass attack of the fork. It is within this moment that equal eruption of action comes from the wandering neophyte, who as soon as Bones has made his first attack, Kazeem was already answering in kind. The table itself comes into play, as his right hand finds the lip of the sturdy wooden furniture just as the left hand he had on the injured man takes hold with a firm grip upon his collar to hoist him just and he hurls the table up to act as makeshift shield from the heavy blow of the makeshift flail. The explosion of force as that lead weight, empowered by Barnabas' raw strength, connects with the wooden table and simply shatters the damn things (much to Mesthak's dismay). But as quickly as he acted, Kazeem was not quick enough, nor the table stalwart enough, to fully stop the pirates blow from reaching him. Awkward positioning (he still has hold of the injured man) leaves the desert born little option but to take a slightly lessened lash from the lead weight. Luckily the power is slightly diminished from its travel through the table, and the angle of it lands it more towards the upper side of his left breast, causing his body to twist a bit in answer. Visible pain can be seen upon the man's face, though he quickly finds his footing as to avoid stumbling, and uses this as a chance to not only toss the injured man safely into his companion's lap, but also turn to press the advance into the pirate now. Just as his body finds that footing, having been forced back a bit by the pirate's blow, Kazeem uses his back foot to propel him forward as his right hand goes to grab the hilt of his chosen weapon. What seems to be a dwarf spear, almost the length of a short sword at best, would explain his he was able to conceal it upon his person. But what may not be expected in the nomad's lunge forth is the sudden extension of the spear, which elongates rapidly as the command word is spoken as the neophyte strikes forth towards the heart of his opponent. And so in the short distance between the pair, Barnabas will have the sudden surprise of Kazeem's short weapon closing the distance with startling celerity and even more alarming force as expected from a spear being thrust forth by an able hand.

Barnabas snarled in chorus with the lead weight's clatter off the table. Wood had cracked and splintered but skull had not -which meant initiatives have now reversed, and the confident and experienced warrior would press this, just as Kazeem did. Barnabas' feet had scrambled beneath him just as Kazeem's did, and he knew he had to bring the lead weight to rest in order to direct it in any kind of controlled manner. There wasn't time for that, with the nomad propelling himself forward and drawing what appeared to be a short javelin. With no weapon or makeshift shield with which to deflect an aggressive attack, Barnabas dove to the floor at his right and dropped his rope and lead flail. As he rolled over a boney shoulder, sprang and spun succinctly up to his toes, he saw the telescopic nature of Kazeem's spear and saw how its tip probed deathly out to where his torse was but a split second ago. A chair was the nearest object at hand and would have to suffice, since the pirate still didn't feel too safe at such a range to such a weapon. A hand gripped the top of its back whilst a toe kicked and sent it up and forward. Like a bedraggled lion-tamer, Barnabas swung this before him. It was less of a defensive gesture than it was meant to overwhelm Kazeem, as the fight still remained rather contained within the corner of the tavern. The focus of his charge was Kazeem's spear arm -Barnabas reckoned that if he could pin the nomad back against the wall (where the pirate stood before the flurry of violence), he could disable said spear and instead resort to raining blows with a fist.

Kazeem had expected his blow to miss given the deft skill and reflexes this man has shown thus far, thus he was not frozen in pose as most would be drawn to be when they've allowed themselves to be sure of landing a killing blow. No, the neophyte is fluid in his motions, his fighting style almost like a dance of death as he maneuvers his body in a way that compliments his weapon well. The pirate hit the deck, but in the moment he went about scrambling does the more lean and dexterous warrior demonstrate his competency and comfort in battle. He closes the distance still, oddly enough for a spear user, just as Barnabas brandishes the chair and unleashes a few blows before outright charging forth. Here Kazeem answers with a move her has taken years to master, for as Bones travels forth does Kaz seem to let go of his spear and launch his body into a defensive sideways spin to avoid the collision with the chair, while simultaneously recoiling the spear to its smaller length. In this blink-of-an-eye time, Barnabus' chair attack will miss it's intended mark, but leave the man danger close to the warrior, who snaps out his right hand to reclaim the falling spear, grip it tight and attempt to drive it into the pirate's guts whose chair-lead charge means his own momentum will be hard pressed to stop in time. If he misses, Kazeem will roll forward and create more distance between himself and the dread-pirate, but if his blade finds its mark he will not hesitate to twist that blade and create a wound that even the most skilled healers would find difficult to close before blood loss would be lethal.

Barnabas was less a warrior than Kazeem -and this became increasingly clear- but that's not to say he was purely brash, and certainly not untested. He was quite sure a man who avoided his earlier skull crushing would not be bested by a chair like some beast out of its element. The chair's function was no different than that of the fork of earlier. Subtlety was a principle Barnabas learned to apply by rote, especially in battle. He was hyper-aware of that spear and how quickly a precise arm could place its point -he was quite fond of spears in fact but then Kazeem further closed the gap betwixt the two bodies, and Barnabas' point of interest instantly changed. There would have been no time, anyway, to change course or avoid the speartip. But Kazeem moved to meet him, and the pirate decided to forsake the chair at almost precisely the same time the nomad made to temporarily relinquish his spear. The chair continued flying forward, Kazeem spinning to slip the anticipated collision, and Barnabas twisted on his toes and sprang with his arms out wide. He meant to collide bodily with all of his momentum into Kazeem, who was generous to meet the pirate's advance with his own, even if the nomad's was done with more finesse and tact in mind. Barnabas was lanky, but he possessed an inhuman strength. He moved now with little control, though, and it was all he could hope to do to collide and enwrap and attempt to topple his target.

Kazeem can see a lethal blow landing if he wanted, given the reckless abandon in which the pirate does not dodge but simply seeks to body slam himself into the neophyte in a last ditch effort to stall the advance of the spearman, but Kaz does not see a need for death this day and thus opts for his previously planned option of rolling past the man and allowing him to slam into either a nearby table or simply thin air. The roll is done quickly, the warrior is on his feet once more and in one fluid motion uses the kinetic energy of his movement to take hold and toss two small throwing daggers towards the joints of the pirate's (hopefully) exposed back. If landed, these small blades would find home in the hard to reach part of the back right by the shoulder-blades so that movement would be both painful and cause even more damage. If not, then hopefully that attack opens up the man's defenses to his quick follow up in which he uses his spear's tip to take hold of a large (and quite solid) mug of ale by the handle and spin around and launch it right towards the pirate's head. While not much of a lethal move, impact would dizzy and perhaps even cause eyesight to become harder as the amber liquid soaks the man's face. This is of course buying time for the warrior to assume a more defensive stance now and better assess the situation and how to go about landing a fight ending blow -without- trying to kill the damn man. Time was of the essence though, for the injured crony in which this fight started over is in bad shape, and the terror-stricken people of the tavern wish for this nightmare to end.

Barnabas careened onward, clumsily springing through empty air, over the upturned table, and finally into the wall to which he had his back safely against a scant few minutes ago. He pressed back from it, stunned and confused at the speed and elusiveness of his adversary. Instinctively, his eyes made to search before him for the spear -if it had clattered to the floor or if Kazeem retained his grip on it. They did, anyway, until a brilliant gleam of steel flashed. Barnabas looked down instead where that streak ended, his brow and lips contorting first in suprise and then in sudden pain and frustration, to see one of the two blades pinning the fetid rags of his wardrobe into the deep flesh of his right side between his bottom rib and hip. The other embedded itself a hair's bredth away, but inoccuously in the wall. Barnabas reached numbly for to withdraw the small blade, perhaps to use it against Kazeem, since the pirate still showed no better sense than to press the much more refined warrior. He didn't see the tankard that followed, crashed over his crown with stunning precision, soaked his tricorn hat, and laid him out unconscious, flat on his face and that dagger in his side. Ned was gone, having long since deserted the tavern melee and his nameless, unconscious cohort. They apparently weren't that friendly. The unconscious man, ironically, now lay on the floor not too far from Barnabas, and in a very similar face-down position.

Kazeem is glad to see the man is both not mortally wounded, as well as incapacitated enough to allow the desert wanderer to fetch his things and the injured man and starts to make haste out of the tavern. But a pause happens, as the patrons start to scramble out and about the establishment the neophyte feels honor bound to ensure the pirate is not molested by the mob, nor robbed of his belongings. He'd walk over, after making sure the injured man is gently laid back down a safe distance, towards the pirate. The blade is first reclaimed before the warrior's guild member sets the unconscious sea fairer in a better position. Here, he'd call out to Nancy with. "Make sure his things are not stolen, and when he wakes up if he is in need of a healer this should cover it -and- pay for damages as well as watching over him." That pouch, filled with hard earned coin, is handed over to the barmaid who looks at the mess of her beloved workplace as well as the ale-soaked ruffian and lets out a defeated sigh of acknowledgement and agreement. Mesthak simply eyes the desert-born in his own way and gives Nancy his nod of approval to the terms. With that taken care of, Kazeem returns to the injured man, hefts him up and seeks out a healer, hoping this day does not end in anyone's death.

• • • • I had actually thought that was the end of the rp, but he surprised me with a post lol****

Barnabas had gauged Kazeem better than Kazeem might have gauged him it would seem. The pirate listened, maintaining perfect stillness and keeping to even, shallow breaths. He'd played possum plenty of times before. The honorable Kazeem stepped closer, knelt down, and must have been trying to recover that blade of his when he made to roll Barnabas over. It may have been in exactly that moment that the desert warrior more fully understood what sort of devious person Barnabas Bones was. That blood-wetted point of that small knife was in the pirate's hand, no longer in his side, and the moment Kazeem knelt beside him and touched his shoulder Barnabas lashed out with it. One of his arms made to entangle the arm Kazeem reached forth with, wrenching and pulling him forward and down. The other, in a fluid and viperous motion, brought the knifepoint near and made to press it down against the nomad's neck, threateningly but little more. Barnabas rose into a crouch, tracking Kazeem's movement if he happened to have been so caught off guard by his reanimation that he was pulled entirely overtop him.

Kazeem had thought of his noble exit in his mind but was brought back to a far deadlier reality when the pirate stopped playing possum and unleashed his last-ditch effort attack upon his person. The man did in fact take a firm grip upon Kaz's arm, and the jerking motion offer a small window of reaction that's more innate reflexes honed from training than actual thought. The nomad's free hand strikes out to intercept the blade, though it is stabbed through in the process, but sheer adrenaline fuels the warrior's actions during the startling turn of events and allows him to twist the knife from the (hopefully) still dazed pirate with enough ferocity that the follow up headbutt to the exposed nose of the brute will land. And in this moment the warrior also kicks back with his legs as to both push the pirate back against the wall as well as free himself of his grip as well as his hand from the blade. Spurts of blood, presumably from both men now, pools upon the tavern floor as Kaz tries to escape the pirate's devious clutches.

Barnabas used Kazeem's weight to pull himself upwards, just as he swept up with that small blade. There was but one way out, and that was to rise and keep that blade on Kazeem, and that was what Barnabas meant to do. Kazeem reacted as a warrior would, instinctively, lurching forward as he sacrificed his hand to protect his much more vital jugular. The man twisted his hand, effectively gripping the blade that skewered it between the bones, and Barnabas lost his grip on it. Kazeem launched forward and the pirate allowed it, instead opting to rise hastily to his feet and allowing Kazeem to process the sudden return to mortal combat. Blood decorated the two and the floor beneath them now, making Barnabas falter as he rose so hurriedly; he slipped, sprawled forward to catch himself, and scurried towards the door to distance himself from Kazeem. These efforts and their frantic nature must have made it somewhat obvious that Barnabas meant not to press Kazeem further. He supported himself with a hand against the door frame, another pressing against the freely running wound on his side, and he turned to shake his head spitefully at Kazeem. He snarled, furious, but still inwardly admiring of the foreigner for his principled conviction as much as his reflexes.

Kazeem breathes both a sigh of relief and in ragged gasps now as the toll of the fight falls upon him fully. His hand pulses with pain, and he quickly tears off a length of his clothes to bind the wound and stop the free flow of precious blood. The pirate's escape is not hindered but preferred at this point to a continued conflict. Rising from the kneeling position in which he currently held (forced to use his left hand due to his injury), the warrior goes once more to collecting his things as well as the injured man. By now more able-bodied men have been called forth due to the scene unfolding, so a possible ambush upon him and his ward would be unlikely given the pirate's condition on top of facing reinforcements. The aches and pains of fighting start to set in, and no matter of training allows for one to ever really think away the punishment the body undergoes during such altercations, but he manages to at least not show too much as he retrieves his prize (the injured man) only to now have to carry him to a nearby healer for care. Being "the good guy" was not an easy job in the least, and often unrewarding in and profitable manner, but as Lionel said in the last meeting "The warrior's guild is filled with those who will be what needs to be done." And, well, this needed to be done. And so, once all his things are collected and he has a good grip upon the injured man, Kazeem heads out of the tavern to finish the job and seek out a healer.