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BAR WARS: Preemptive Strike

“I am worried about that vandal hitting the bars in town. It seems like only a matter of time before we’re next.” Junie frowned as she counted out a drawer for the evening, while Emerson paced the boards of the Gangplank.  It was still early in the evening but Emerson, in typical fashion, was already well primed. 

“We need to make a preemptive strike,” Emerson snapped his fingers. “Hit them before they hit us!”

“A preemptive strike. I like that. But at whom?” said Junie. “We don’t even know who is behind this.” 

“Grafitti at the Durkin and ‘Cuffs, broken windows at the Bucket…”

“Don’t forget the harpoon through Mr. Underby’s portrait.” added Junie. 

Emerson pursed his lips. “It’s got to be Lupindo – or that savage of a bartender he employs.”

“How do we know it’s not the Temperance League? Martin?” Junie turned towards her bartender. “Didn’t you say your mother was coming here?”

Martin was standing in a curious pose, his left arm draped over his head and his right foot tapping an irregular cadence  behind his left leg, his eyes unfocused and vacant. 

“Malus? You alright, son?” Emerson and Junie looked at each other, then back at their bartender. 

“I got it,” Malus said suddenly. He quickly emptied his tip jar into his pocket and walked out into the still bright summer evening, leaving the door open behind him.

“Hey,” Emerson said turning to Junie. “Is his shift over?”

“That boy is up to something.” she replied, watching him retreat down Prince Dakkar Boulevard.


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  1. Junie Ginsburg Junie Ginsburg July 31, 2012

    *notices white paint on Martin’s fingers when he returns to the Gangplank*

    Should I batten down the hatches then?

    • Brother Malus Brother Malus July 31, 2012

      *scrubs his hands and fingernails in the sink*

      No need. 

  2. Brother Malus Brother Malus July 31, 2012

    Malus minced through the offal behind Ahab’s, balancing carefully on the ox hooves that he had bought from the butcher and lashed under his boots. He could barely contain a snicker as he finished the final curves of on top of a basic hex diagram, he remembered them well from those strange geometry problems that Brother Lapis used to work on when they both would be awake in the middle of the night, back when he was a novice at the Institute. On a whim, he added a circle at each vertex, then, gaining inspiration from the pattern, wrote the letters H – O – B inside the circles that were  the points of one triangle, and O – L – D on the other. That should scare that savage, he looked like the superstitious type. Old Hob would see the hoof prints and think of the devil, Lupindo would shift the blame from Underby to Mornington. He finished his work and packed up his tools, throwing the hooves towards a dog that had been sniffing around the waterfront, who gratefully ran off with them. As a final touch, Malus boldly went to the front of the building and scratched a bit of geometrical nonsense on the door lintel, then quickly retired from the neighborhood. 

    That should give them something to talk about.


  3. DoctorDinosaur Runner DoctorDinosaur Runner July 31, 2012

    hoofprints would make the sailor think it’s the devil? what about that hotel-person, McMourning-McAffr-…….McDonald?

  4. Emerson Lighthouse Emerson Lighthouse July 31, 2012

    A smile spread across Emerson’s face as Junie filled him in.

    “He did it with ox hooves on his feet?” Emerson couldn’t contain his snickers as he let loose with a mighty exhale of Cleetus’s fine hookah leaf. “This is going to get good.”


  5. Cadmus Lupindo Cadmus Lupindo August 2, 2012

    “Hob Come here!” Cadmus bellowed standing by the dock.

    Hob appeared outside. “I was getting ready for…”

    Hob stopped in his tracks his eyes fixed on the ground. Someone had drawn a hexagram on the ground and had written “Old Hob” in it.

    Cadmus watched the weathered old sailor’s reaction. He smiled.

    “Step into the center. See if it works.” Cadmus whispered the dare.

    Hob shot him a look that would have made lesser men soil themselves. Was that really a flash of red in his eyes or his imagination? It was a red sunrise and that was as good an answer as any.

    “Look at the hoof prints. The Goat?”

    “Na too broad and curved. A goat’s prints are more tear dropped and closer togeffer. “

    Cadmus could not argue he had been born and lived his life at sea.

    “You know goats better than me. The Albino is into this stuff.”

    “Son of a Gun!” Hob stormed off.

    Cadmus looked for more clues. He could hear Hob storming about muttering about pig’s blood and other odd things. He barely paid Hob any notice as he thought about his next step. Hob stormed passed with a large bag over his shoulder and a shovel.

    Cadmus rolled his eyes and yelled at Hob while he was still in ear shot.

    “ If you are going to reanimate the dead, or some such, do it up on the hill in the Dagon Temple Ruins! You are not doing it here!”

    • Cadmus Lupindo Cadmus Lupindo August 2, 2012

      ((Edited my post. An issue was pointed out in the first draft and corrected. My apologies.))

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