The Fearsome Encounter (GBS3G8) [Round 3: Ark of Hope]

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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Errat's toxin was strong enough to keep a human unconscious for a little over five minutes. As far as the thieves were concerned, those five minutes were "just enough time to get out of here with the statue".

For the other taverngoers, those five minutes would be more accurately described as "plenty of time to start a brawl".

And for Augustus, they were an inexplicable gap during which his God had completely vanished. He had little time to wonder if Azungrada had forsaken him before a three-foot tall purple creature with bat wings was flung into his table, smashing it to pieces.

The Divine Arbiter grabbed the small alien by the throat.

"Where is Azungrada?"

"I got no clue what a Zungrada is! Unless you mean that big grey guy smashin' everything up, in which case, he's right over there in the middle of the bar, smashin' everything up."

Augustus glared at his captive for a moment.

"Grey, or silver?"

"Damned if I know. You humans have too many names for colors - ack!"

The creature was useless. Augustus simply slammed it into the nearest wall before dropping it to the floor unceremoniously. He would simply have to investigate the source of this brawl himself.

Much to his disappointment, however, the "big grey guy" in question was not a metallic snake, but a large werewolf. He had a vague recollection of the beast fighting the heretic lizard.

Were the Divine Arbiter in a better mood, he might have considered making common cause with Redclaw, at least until Triumphian had been dealt with. But the loss of his God - again - had fouled Augustus' mood too much to allow clear thinking.

"You there, beast!" he shouted. "I am Augustus, the Divine Arbiter. I have been chosen by Azungrada to judge the sinful."

The former space pirate drew his sword. He smiled slightly; he remembered enough of his life before Azungrada that a bar brawl was hardly an unfamiliar or unwelcome sight.

"Are you worthy of His divine mercy, beast?"

***

Ion groaned, and quietly slipped towards the exit. He disliked bar brawls; not so much for the violence, he was usually good enough at avoiding that, and decently capable of handling it when he couldn't.

No, the problem was all the half-empty mugs that ended up broken in bits on the floor. Sooner or later, Ion always ended up changing to his least favorite shade of purple.