Space Mace

The tavern was running like usual: stories were being told, drinks were being served and everyone was enjoying the worriless merriment that this place offered. Well…not everyone. In the dark corner near the entrance sat a lonesome brooding figure, who was clearly covered in a shroud of sadness and melancholy. He was caressing a wondrous magical mace of otherworldly design in his lap, which was the source of his sorrows. Ever since that Alkion fellow came to the tavern and gave it to him, he wanted to use it so, so much, but there was simply no opportunity. A bouncer shouldn’t be mournful about a lack of work, as he was being paid nonetheless. But to have such an amazing thing and to not be able to use it is a torture most vile. The bouncer looked around the tavern once again, searching hopefully for any cutthroat, drunk, thief or for a good old brutish troublemaker, but everyone was just obnoxiously happy and harmless. The bouncer was on a verge of a mental breakdown, but then a gust of cold air filled the room as a new presence entered the tavern, and what a figure it was. A levitating undead figure garbed in mystical robes and emanating immense power and dread. The whole tavern was now covering with fear before this entity, except for a single lonesome brooding figure still sitting in their dark corner. “Fear me mortals, and despair. Your souls belong to me as you are all insignificant in the presence of a god. Die!” yelled the lich with the most chilling of voices, but then a different voice filled the tavern. It was a very rough and gruff type of voice and it was filled with the utmost joy. “Finally! I’ve been waiting months for this. Oh you silly skelly sweetheart, I would hug you right now if you weren’t trying to kill us all.” The lich turned towards the bouncer with a look of fiery anger and said with a ferocious voice: “You dare defy me mortal, your petty existence will perish before my pow…” The bouncer, ignoring the lich turned toward the bartender and joyfully yelled: “Please, Please, Can I use it? Can I use it bartender.” The bartender, unperplexed by this whole situation calmly said to the bouncer: “Our quest seems to be a little bit too disruptive for this tavern, would you be as kind as to ‘escort’ them outside.” The bouncer replied with a wide grin on his face: “My pleasure, sir. My pleasure indeed.” and he charged towards the lich. The lich was angry and confused, obviously not used to this kind of reaction to his presence. “What is the meaning of this, I will destro…” But before they managed to finish the sentence, their head embarked on a hastened collision course with the bouncer’s fantastical mace. Then a loud CRACK! ensued and the lich was home-runned into an another plane of existence. The tavern was still in a paralyzed ruckus, except for the bouncer who was cheerfully doing some sort of awkward victory dance and laughing wildly. “I’ve always wanted to do this boss! I’ve always wanted to do this, and it was AMAZING!” The bartender smiled and replied” I know…I know” he then proceeded to give every patron a drink on the house, which renewed the joy in the tavern and many patrons soon forgot that this encounter ever happened. But one person certainly didn’t forget. One lonesome brooding person sitting in the dark corner, clearly covered in shroud of joy and happiness, caressing a wondrous magical mace of otherworldly design in his lap. Strange how such a small thing can be so therapeutic.

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