Brawling Bar [BartelsMeire]

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: This thread is meant to be a sequel to 'The Accident'. There’s a little God-Modding here to get us from the door to table. I hope you don’t mind. Danny's agreed to Mod-Mark this when there will be blows.

The Medic and Sergeant stepped into the tavern, slightly red-cheeked from the cold air. Strumfelder removed his hat, and drummed a hand through his short hair, rearranging it. The pair headed for the bar, and sat down on a pair of stained and worn leather topped stools. The walk down had taken longer than Erhard had imagined, but darkness always seemed to double the size of the planet. He rubbed his eyes; it had been a long day, but now he could forget about it. The Tavern was half full, mostly with enlisted men, one of Strumfelder’s medical assistants, and the rest with locals. It had a lively buzz, so few noticed when Adolph Hoch stepped through the door, his head low. The man still had his side arm, Erhard saw, but who didn’t? He could understand the man’s grief; just because the leg had come off, it didn’t mean he would be saved. The Medic sympathised, but he had to deal with people like that every day, and he had slowly become detached.

“Zwei Lager, bitte.” Erhard asked the women behind the bar. She loudly thumped two large glasses down, splashing out some of the contents in the process, and her tip... Erhard drew a sip, and sighed, before tossing a pair of notes over the bar top. “Ein was für Tag es ist, ist gewesen. Ich nehme an, dass ich excitiment wünschte und ich es, sowie einen Damm der Schreibarbeit erhielt. Sie benötigen Akte eine Sache des Reports im Allgemeinen, aber sie brennt vorbei durch.” The Medic relaxed slightly, as he took another long sip. He ought to be careful; he wasn’t the best at holding alcohol.

“Aber die Person, die ich für die meisten, bin Hoch dort traurig glaube. Sein Bruder kann zu allem zu helfen ist Bein oder himslef vor vorbei keeling zu schützen, aber Adolph ist die Person, die es aufpassen muss zu geschehen. Es würde kaum ein Heldtod sein, wurde es?” Strumfelder gestured with his glass over towards the mere boy, and was shocked to find him down half bottle of Schnapps, and the best part of his pay cheque. “Wenn er mit dieser Rate weitermacht, ist er die toten whoes eins. Möglicherweise sollten Sie gehen, ein Wort zu haben?”



Translations:
“Ein was für Tag es ist, ist gewesen. Ich nehme an, dass ich excitiment wünschte und ich es, sowie einen Damm der Schreibarbeit erhielt. Sie benötigen Akte eine Sache des Reports im Allgemeinen, aber sie brennt vorbei durch.”
~ What a day it is has been. I suppose I wanted excitiment and I got it, as well as a mound of paperwork. You need file a report on the whole thing, but it will blow over.

“Aber die Person, die ich für die meisten, bin Hoch dort traurig glaube. Sein Bruder kann zu allem zu helfen ist Bein oder himslef vor vorbei keeling zu schützen, aber Adolph ist die Person, die es aufpassen muss zu geschehen. Es würde kaum ein Heldtod sein, wurde es?”
~ But the person I feel sorry for most, is Hoch over there. His brother can to anything to help is leg, or protect himself from keeling over, but Adolph is the one who has got to watch it happen. It would hardly be a Heroes death, would it?

“Wenn er mit dieser Rate weitermacht, ist er die toten sie ist eins. Möglicherweise sollten Sie gehen, ein Wort zu haben?”
~ If he carries on at that rate, he will be the one who’s dead. Maybe you should go and have a word?

[washi]

OOC: Sorry for it being so short and taking so long, writers block.

As Daniel sat there and slowly sipping at his beer, he usually never drinks unless it’s a special occasion or something bad happened during the day, when he finally said "Ja sollte ich und ich, dazu gehen."Daniel then gets up and walks over to Hoch and sits down next to him.”He Es tut mir leid, dass über Ihren Bruder,” as Daniel sat there he continued the conversation “Hoch lassen mich Sie ein Getränk kaufen, und wir können über heute sprechen,” said Daniel then he yells, “Zwei Glas Bier hier und behalten sie, bitte kommend,” The barkeep slid two beers down towards Daniel and Hoch and they started drinking and talking about today.




Translations:
"Ja sollte ich und ich, dazu gehen."
Yes I should and I am going to.
”He Es tut mir leid, dass über Ihren Bruder,”
Hey I am sorry about your brother,
“Hoch lassen mich Sie ein Getränk kaufen, und wir können über heute sprechen.”
Hoch let me buy you a drink and we can talk about today.
“Zwei Glas Bier hier und behalten sie, bitte kommend,”
Two beers over here and keep them coming please.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: Language is pretty strong in this. You’ve got to remember Hoch’s had quite a skinful. These post will have to be short because of Danny’s mod marks.

Adolph Hoch examined the beer. He’d drunk a lot, but what would another beer do? Probably extinguish some of his grief, but all the other’s had failed to. He looked up at the Sergeant and took a sip, feeling life breathe into his muscles, and fire into his heart. That Sergeant might as well have shot him in the head, than in the foot. He’d probably rigged that fucking gun to shoot him, not his brother. The coward couldn’t dare to face him, Adolph Hoch. Just shoot him from a far, not getting involved, being innocent. He was a murderer, who couldn’t kill right, and he was meant to be a soldier. Ha. The motherfucker couldn’t get a heard of sheep to follow him. He’d have him thrown out of the division for today.

Hoch watched BartelsMeire. The man who had tried to kill his brother. With his perfect uniform and scattered brain, who couldn’t love him? But it was all show. Hoch new what the bastard was really like. What thoughts lurked behind that handsome face. That face that needed rearranging. “Sie bumsender Mörder!” he roared throwing his heavy arm forward, and tossing the glasses to the floor. He rammed his body forward, trying to knock the Sergeant off his stool, and stumbled over himself not knowing if he had achieved his aim. He reached down to thigh, where a small six inch blade was sheathed, and drew it out, letting the blade glint in the light. He picked himself off the floor and looked around for the murderer, who was about to get a taste of his own medicine.




Translations:

“Sie bumsender Mörder!”
~ You fucking murderer!

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:[/b]

I've been asked to mod-this by Erhard and by all means, post strong languaged posts, doesn't phase me.

NPC; Adolph Hoch:

• Shoving himself towards Daniel Bartel' in a bid effort to knock him from off his stool, Adolph Hoch achieved more than this; Shoving the Medical Unit from off his seat, Daniel Bartel' completely came from off his stool, colliding backwards into a nearby table, huddled by a rowdy group of soldiers playing cards.
  
  - Knocking their table flying and sending a lump-sum of cash placed upon the table (the Kitty/Pot of cash for the game); The soldiers jumped from their seats instinctively, almost toppling over themselves in the process.
  
  
• Daniel Bartel' has sustained no injuries, other than being drenched in Ale/Schnapps that was placed on the table and feeling quite disorientated from the surprise of the attack.
  
  
• The soldiers that were at the table are now rowdy and arguing amongst themselves, a few fingers pointing towards Daniel Bartel's way...
  

~Danny[/color]

[washi]

As Daniel is getting up and is wiping off some of the debris. As he is doing that, he looks up and sees everyone pointing at him but he just shrugged it off and starts walking towards his stool. That is when he noticed that Hoch has a knife in his hand and coming towards him with it.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

OOC: Put up a bit of fight. How can you say you were beaten by a drunk!? Nice and short; not much more I can say before I see the Mod-Mark.

Hoch laughed as the Sergeant nearly knocked himself out. Several hundred Reichmarks flew into the air. Maybe BartelsMeire could use it to pay for his funeral! The knife glittered in Hoch’s hand. It was far from just a knife though. Molded into the blade was a brass knuckleduster, that Hoch had used more than once to rearrange someone’s features. He stubbed forwards as the Sergeant picked himself off the floor, and brushed himself down. The private lashed out, trying to punch the Sergeant in the face. He was so drunk he couldn’t tell if he’d done any damage at all. Growling loudly, he threw himself forwards, stabbing out with the knife. He was sure he felt contact at least once, but whether it was BartelsMeire was another question entirely.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod-Post


CP:

Strum: 3CP


~Dan