Bungo stood astride his defeated opponent's
stricken form and danced heartily. The celebratory romp concluded spectacularly
with a barrage of sharp thrusting motions and a double-handed crotch slap;
eliciting an unexpectedly sublime chime as the hammer blow rang against Bungo's
steely codpiece.
The burly barbarian halted his joviality abruptly;
suddenly struck by the notion that he still had no idea why the fight had
broken out in the first place. He hummed thoughtfully as a massively powerful
hand stroked his Herculean jaw and his manly eyebrows furrowed in
consternation as his comparatively underdeveloped mental faculties went to
work. The effort was such that didn't even notice the shrill ruckus that ensued
when the innkeeper finally came out of hiding to see his bar reduced to a
swampy broken ruin. Nor did he flinch as fresh porridge dripped from the
rafters and splattered against his steely chest; to say nothing of the fact
that Shallica had been licking him clean for the past two minutes and relishing
every moment of it.
Another agonisingly slow moment passed before Bungo finally
broke the silence.
"I have a thought..." He declared;
turning to face Shallica with one finger raised. The dainty gesture
was quite out of keeping with the barbarian's sinewy physique. Still
probing the air with one questing finger, he continued broodingly.
"Why is a bounty hunter attacking me?”
Shallica's only response was a sullen groan; her
fine eyebrows raised in a quizzical expression.
"All that time and you only managed to get the
question, not the answer?" Her reply hung in the air unheeded; Bungo's
oblivious diatribe continued uninterrupted and mostly unintelligibly.
"Bounty Hunters hunt bad people for
money..." Another break in prose seemingly proved that the colossal
barbarian really was unable to string together multiple sentences with any
efficacy. Shallica groaned again; the questing finger had returned.
"Someone paid this man to attack me!" The
final words came out in an exultant rush as Bungo finally identified the
plainly obvious. It was only after another celebratory crotch-slap and a
booming chorus of "Excelsior" that the barbarian realised that
Shallica was nowhere to be seen.
After a brief moment of befuddled searching, Bungo looked
down in time to see her clawed hand reach out towards him with a piece of
warrant paper clutched between her delicate fingers. It seemed that she had
grown weary of waiting for the erstwhile dunce's creaking
cognitions and had performed a search of the unconscious man's
belongings in an attempt to speed things along.
Bungo's colossal fist dwarfed the tattered
parchment as he took the proffered item from Shallica. He brought it closer to
his face and immediately burst into raucous laughter.
"Who is this hideous oaf!?" Bungo
spluttered the words; his eyes wet with tears of amusement as he stared at the
blockheaded visage on the paper. The hastily scrawled portrait was
fashioned with a fierce cleft chin, glowering grey eyes and a monstrous
forehead dominated by a bold mono-brow. The poor individual's body was
outlandishly proportioned in a ridiculously triangular manner, with legs that
appeared almost vestigial in size and arms that hung below the ankles. A
childishly angular sword was proudly clutched in one raised hand above a
mane of unruly hair.
"It says right here it's you." Shallica
pointed to the bottom of the page; the simple gesture almost immediately ending
the barbarian's good humour.
"Reward, 50,000 Chrome Stumpkins for the
head of Bungo the Barbarian." She read the next line aloud, unaware that
Bungo had already begun to turn a deep shade of red; silently fuming at the
insult.
"Wanted for crimes of...." She stopped mid-sentence,
scowling slightly
"This part’s been ruined by porridge, I can't
see anything else..." Her casual remark was cut short when she looked into
Bungo's Herculean features. Gone was the air of amusement; his whole body was
tense with an air of dark resolve. In truth, at that moment he resembled the
warrant poster's mug shot more than Shallica had previously thought possible,
but she didn't want to ruin the moment by pointing it out; even though his
hunched posture really did make his arms hang rather low.
There was a pregnant moment as Bungo turned toward
the inn door; dramatically draping the stricken man's long cloak about his
angular shoulders. When he finally spoke, his tone was brooding and low.
"There's only one place where they use Chrome
Stumpkins" he was oddly contemplative as he climbed the
creaking stairs to retrieve the Blade of Donglore.
"We're heading to Marbo."
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