The Calamity: Chapter 1

Somehow all bars were the same. All of the same dark wood, all with the same tables. Most strained with alcohol, piss, water, vomit and spit. The floors a worse of variant but with flecks of food kicked and smushed into their boards. The lights were always dim and yet abundant enough to give a golden warmth. And the noise. Loud or quiet one could always guess exactly when one would be quiet and personal or loud, booming, and welcoming or invading.

This was much of the welcoming kind. When the door opened the patrons shouted. They raised their glasses, stomped their feet and pounded their tables. There was even a woman playing the piano in the corner to some upbeat local song that they sang to with abandon. These men and women were too drunk to care much of who came through. It was a bit like the rumored bars of the Free City.

Morrigan had never been to the Free City despite her worldliness. At least not in its current state. She prided herself on having seen much of the country she lived in. Traveling was her trade in a way. As she sat at the bar, she cradled the tiny glass in her slim brown fingers. She swished the clear liquid in it slightly watching it shift back and forth.

She placed it against her lips and tilted it back, downing the liquid in one go. That was another thing about bars that was the same. The drink stole your breath away, setting a type of fire down your throat and in your belly with a false warmth that you had to chase rather than grow comfortable with.

Turning the tiny glass over she placed it on the bar counter top. She lowered her hand again to rearrange it so that it was in line against the other six upside down glasses. She glanced at the bartender and flashed him a smirk. “Well would you look at that. One more and I will get a free one, right?”

“Two more.” The man said in his gruff voice. He held up two fat fingers and then broke out into a bushy faced laugh. One that shook his entire body from his thick arms to the bulging stomach hidden behind a dirty apron. “I like you lady. Most of these drunks can barely put away a couple of pints before losing their heads like a bunch of kids.”

He turned around grabbing another glass. Sure, he could have taken one of the others and refilled it but something about a physical representation of skill or accomplishment always won out over cleanliness and organization. So, he filled a new glass, placed the sloshing liquor in front of her with an expectant smirk. Even though he was going to give away free booze he wanted to see if she could live up to the boast.

And she did. She plucked up this newest glass, pressed it to her lips and tipped it back like it were nothing. The familiar burning flowed in her belly and brought a smile to her face. But she felt a bit dizzier. Felt a numbness in the tips of her fingers finally. Chuckling she turned the glass over and glanced at the bartender.

“Alright. Let’s finish this up.”

“Finally starting to feel it eh?”

Ruby lips curved up slightly and she almost laughed. “I think that if I drink more then that one then your stores might really run dry.”

That earned her another barking laugh from the man. Slapping his stomach, he wagged his finger. “Now I’m not sure if that’s proper boasting or a promise. I can’t tell with a woman like you.”

As he got ninth drink ready, she couldn’t help but comment on that. “What do you mean a woman like me?”

He glanced over his shoulder for a moment and then turned to face her. “Now don’t play dumb. Look at you. You’re not a poor slob like the rest of us. You’re not a peasant. You know how to carry yourself like those fancy nobles over in the Sanctum,” he turned and spit on the ground. “You got this air about ya though. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were one of those ‘warriors’ out west.”

“One of the Norian soldiers you mean.”

“Yeah them.”

She looked at him, her gaze hidden behind thin red lenses with crooked stems. “What makes you think I’m not one of them?”

As he set down the drink he smirked. “Because none of them seemed like they knew what a good time was. They wouldn’t know if it bit them on the privates and gave it to them.”

She snorted. She couldn’t help it.

“Look you even laugh. I’ve never seen a Norian laugh.”

“I’m not from the Sanctum, I’m not a peasant, and I’m not a Norian. So, what am I?”

“That is an answer I just don’t have.” He placed the ninth drink on the table for her. “But I like a break from the normalcy of this town.”

“Well I’m glad to help.” She stared at the drink, a bit more reserved but no less committed to finishing what she started. She raised it to him before tipping it back. This one made her wobble slightly on her stool. Leaning a bit further back than she intended and chuckled at the moment.

He clapped in glee and shouted. The rest of the bar shouted, no idea why but eager to revel. She even raised her glass and shouted with them. But she couldn’t stay longer. Giving herself a moment of indulgence like this. So, she stood her hand flying to the counter top for some balance.

Narrowing her eyes and letting out a breath she chuckled. “I knew that ninth one would be the end of the road.”

“Well what’s your hurry out. Sit a bit longer. Let it settle. I can make you something hot. A beef sandwich that’ll make you forget that there’s better food out there.”

She raised a dusky hand and shook her head. “No, I have to be off. I have someone who’s waiting for me to come back.”

She stood to her full height of over six feet. She wore a velvet red dress, with a sleeveless black jacket that extended well to her legs. The edges were embroidered gold. The dress itself was light with faint silver embroidery while the jacket was heavier, keeping the dress from getting unruly. The sleeves of the dress were a bigger, tied tight to her wrist with tassels.

She reached down and picked up her sword in its scabbard. An intricately twisted pommel of metal connected to a long thin blade. Yet attached to the blade was a long metal tube running parallel and turned seamlessly into the pommel. Affixing it to her hip she picked up her hat, a wide brim with a flat top. “That’s an odd weapon miss.”

“Odd yes. But very effective.”

Smoothing her dark hair, she placed it on her head and reached to a coin purse at her hip. She dropped ten gold coins, foreign characters on one side and the other a five petal flower with long stalks in the center surrounding a bullet.

“Hey I told you one was free.”

“Did you? Well then call it an investment for my next visit.”

She turned and began to walk, the heel of her boots clacking on the wooden floor even through the music and laughter.  She hummed along to the tune of the song, her fingers drumming against her blade as she walked through the door.

The stars twinkled, the moon was empty and the ground was dirt. Grass tried to grow but too much traffic prevented the greater majority of that. At least in this part of town. There were a few torches to show major streets and any homes in the distance had their lights off for the night. Husbands would stumble to dark homes and the inns were always welcoming.

She was going to neither of those locations.

Though that couldn’t be said for the group of men catcalling at her. They were on the dirt, one on his knees and wretching while the other two laughed. They were drunk but then again so was she. It was the type of night for that. Crisp air after blazing day time. Hard work in the fields which was the norm out here. She couldn’t blame them for blowing off whatever steam they’d accumulated.

So, she continued to walk down the street letting them berate one another at ‘letting her get away’. What she hadn’t expected was for one of them to come running after her. She barely reacted in time as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

He stank of cheap bear and the echo of vomit. If not his own than his friend. She looked at him with a disdain hidden under her hat. He looked at her with unfocused eyes from a sun glazed bronze skin and fiery orange hair. He had stubble along his jaw and a sloppy smile.

She took his arm and took it from his shoulders as he glanced at him. “Oh, come on. Why the cold shoulder. I just wanna talk a bit.”

“She’s outta your league Vince!”

“Unfortunately. And I have no wish to speak with you. Run along and find a girl more of your league.”

His face wrinkled into some form of confusion between a frown and a scowl. He was able to piece together that he was being insulted and glared at her. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he shouted reaching for her and missing, grasping at the air.

Morrigan thought about ignoring the question and continuing forward. If she were more sober, she would have done just that. But with alcohol coursing through her mind she decided to indulge in some petty conversation.

She turned to face him, raising her hat slightly. “It means that you’re an uncouth, uncultured, and an altogether boring man. I wouldn’t be caught dead spending any time with you let alone preforming any sort of relations with you.”

“Oh. You’re one of those haughty know it all bitchy types. Well fuck you too.” He said with a glare. She had barely gotten a step away when she felt something wet hit the back of her head. The man had spat at her and somehow his drunken aim was true.

She turned lightning fast. Before the self-satisfied smirk could even form on the drunks face, her fist slammed into his. He was thrown back a couple feet and flat on his back. She narrowed her eyes at him, her lenses flashing under some unseen light. “Ignorant peasants. If I didn’t have a pressing engagement, I’d rid the world of one more eye sore. Count yourself lucky.”

She scowled harder and turned. Her dress flowed with the movement and she continued to walk. This time no one interrupted her on her walk. She still seethed with anger but it was a sobering anger. One that she knew well and like an old friend she could talk to. Communicate with it.

As she came to the outskirts more streets were apparent though this stretch of land was flat. Homes were locked up for the night. The barns to store what they needed and carts of excess to be traded in the future. The path she walked was well trodden by wagon wheels and animal hooves.

She walked until she hit a cross roads. Reaching into her purse she revealed another coin. The same that she gave to the bartender. She turned it between her fingers slowly and held it to the sky. Held it to the moon so that it was all that her eyes could see. Slowly her fingers wrapped around it and she lowered her hand.

Approaching from her right, down the same worn paths was a carriage. A man in a suit, embroided on the edges, a large top hat and red lenses with crooked stems appeared. His hands were thin affairs and the horse had dark eyes and clouds of steam from its nostrils. The man dipped his and bowed his hat. She approached the carriage and curtsied to him. The door to the carriage opened and she stepped inside getting comfortable on the smooth leather. The door closed and the carriage began to move.