Bar Room Blitz [Elissa and Fergus]
Elissa heard the oddly familiar… that sounds like… no, it’s impossible man behind her attempting to dissuade her admirer from his current choice of action, and started to thank him for the help with the assurance that she could handle him, brute or not, should it come to that. But before she could even formulate another though the hulking man’s fist was flung out like a battering ram, her own reflexes narrowly getting her out of the path before he made contact not with the other man but the thick wooden column behind him.
The cocky expression on the behemoth’s face collapsed into one of pain and then rage, and Elissa watched as several of the other rowdy men crowded around the bar began to throw punches as though his had set off some sort of chain reaction that could not be stopped.
“Well, your majesty, I certainly hope you’re in the mood for a brawl tonight, because it seems that’s what we’ve started.” Elissa snorted, rolling her eyes and tossing back her shot before turning to see just who her knight in drunken armor happened to be tonight, and hoping he was large and good in a fight. When her eyes found his face, they immediately went wide and connected to the voice she’d been so certain she’d mistakenly recognized. “Fergus?”
It was impossible. He was there. He was alive. He was… about to get brained by a bulky dwarven woman brandishing a rather large beer mug from her perch on the bar…
She kicked a foot out behind her and reached back an arm, tilting the stool that was there up into her hand far enough that she could grab it by the upper most rung.
“Duck!” She knew Fergus would understand. No matter how long they’d been apart, some things never changed, and the two of them had always been good in a fight —particularly when they were fighting together.
The stool swung through the space his body had just vacated, connecting with the woman on the bar and splintering as she disappeared over the edge along with her mug.
The minute the poor woman knocked back a shot and turned to face him, the cocky expression upon Fergus’ face melted into one of disbelief. Before she had even uttered his name, his lips parted as he breathed hers in turn, both names escaping them and melding into an indecipherable mess of syllables. If he had doubts beforehand, he clearly had none now. Not when they both immediately came to recognize one another. But was it her? Was it really? Could it be?
“Ellie?” He questioned, face drained of all emotion save for the sheer shock that rumbled through him. He thought she sounded familiar, but everyone did within the walls of the Hanged Man. She was deceased, wasn’t she? She was caught up in the massacre that became of their family, so why was she here? Fergus’ wide eyes blinked in confusion and disbelief, completely unknowing of the intoxicated, battle-ready dwarf readying her glass mug to clock him in the head amidst the brawl that was breaking out. With the command for his movement though, Fergus’ mind immediately snapped back to the present as he ducked instinctively, tapping into fond memories of similar situations that involved both Cousland descendants within bars back home in Ferelden.
As the stool Elissa wielded in his defense came in contact with the dwarf’s meaty body, Fergus glanced back over his shoulder to watch as she was catapulted off the side of the bar top. He blinked before glancing back at the woman he new knew to be his sister and flashed her a broad grin and a thumbs up. Good job, it almost seemed to say, or nice shot more accurately, but the grin drained into something a little more tame as he spotted yet another angry brawler readying a weighty whiskey bottle aimed for back of Elissa’s head. The elder Cousland hooked his arm with with the younger and swung her away to lift his arm up over them both defensively. Catching the aggressor’s wrist against his forearm and successfully halting the other’s advance, he released his hold on his sister to force his curled fist forward into the gut of yet another burly drunkard and sent him stumbling back onto his ass. Out of commission for the time being; it would take him a while to gather his bearings and get back to his feet. If he did. He took out a few people on his way down like a bowling ball, and quite frankly he sunk like one too.
“Strike!” He cheered with pride, once again glancing back over his shoulder and to the face of his sister outlined by the familiar curly mane. “Ready t’show ‘em who they’re messin’ with?”