Drunk and Disorderly. (Complete)

[Solomon Daenal]

The bouncer gave a terrified wail followed by the sickening snap of his body colliding with one of many bar tables. His frame doubled over as it bounded from the stainless dura-steel surface to the filth ridden pub floor, leaving in its wake an enormous dent atop the table.

Though not dead, he would gladly welcome its embrace once he awoke. He shared this battered fate with four other large gentlemen strewn about the smoke filled atmosphere. Two lay beneath the splinters and broken hinges of what was once a door. Another lay amid shattered glass just behind the counter. The last dangled by his collar in the hands of their vicious assailant – Solomon Daenal.

Daenal stood in the direct center of the room, still clenching to a badly beaten bouncer in one hand and a half drained bottle of whiskey in the other. His eyes gleamed with a glaze of alcohol, staring at his bruised, bleeding, and barely conscious victim. Solomon’s fire red mane, drawn back into a lengthy pony tail, was frayed and disheveled. The former convict’s own frame bore a hand full of wounds given by little more than lucky punches thrown at one time or another.

His three day furlough produced violence in its first evening, not that this behavior was unexpected. Excessive indulgence into carnal desires was perhaps Solomon’s favorite pastime; even ten years of incarceration could not change that.

In truth, such a lifestyle is what led him to imprisonment as well as enmity with certain high ranking members of Imperial class – all of whom were soon to taste the bitter fruits of revenge with the aide of Brask. Few knew or dare speculate to what drove such a man. Did he simply play the cards that were dealt him, or enjoy the pleasures of an existence without the encumbering presence of morality or restraint? Perhaps Daenal could answer the question himself were it not for the clouded thoughts of inebriation hanging like an ever-present veil.

“Mr. tough guy, eh?” Solomon spoke to the gasping bouncer. “Gonna kick me outta the bar now?” With that he simply tossed the well over 200 pound man to the side, sending him into a neighboring bar stool.

“Does anyone else have a problem with me having a few drinks?!”

[Jhony]

"He does."

Jhony flicks his foot, tipping Zeke's chair up and shoving his son forward into the open. The family is here on break, having delivered a shipment early. Some of the crew is here as well, but at the moment, they don't want to cheer and goad and bet on the fighting skill of the Captain's son.

"Give him hell, Zeke."

[Zeke]

Zeke staggers forward, gaining his footing a few feet away from the fire-haired behemoth. He tilts his head up, disinterested and indifferent, to look Solomon in the eye. This one...he's not like anyone Zeke's ever seen.

[Solomon Daenal]

The almost seven foot, drunken monster gave a stunned glare to the young man before him. A quick rub of the eyes, followed by a second look of astonishment to find that Zeke was still there.

What began as muffled chuckles, steadily mounted until it bellowed forth in thunderous laughter.

"You!?" Solomon strained to speak between fits of mirth. "Go back to the playground little one. Recess is almost over."

Daenal took a long drink from the bottle, allowing excess to freely flow out the corners of his mouth. He drained the remaining whiskey with ease, then turned to take a vacant stool at the bar.

"Bartender! More whiskey!"

[Zeke]

The bartender, not wanting to come in range of Daenal's fists, throws the bottle from where he cowers behind his counter. The bottle zings by Zeke, and by reflex he snatches it from the air and blinks at it, then looks back up to Solomon.

"...its yours?" he asks blankly.

[Solomon Daenal]

Daenal didn’t bother to look up.

“That is why I called for it.” Solomon’s voice dropped to a threatening tone. “Now be a good boy and hand it to me.”

[Zeke]

"Why?"

Zeke's not trying to be contrary or spiteful. He just...doesn't see any reason. He seems to be full enough of it, though he'd rather not point it out.

[Solomon Daenal]

Solomon tilted his head left, just enough to scowl at the brazen upstart.

“Who’s that sittin’ over there kid?” He said, nodding in the direction of the man who had unceremoniously launched Zeke into this conflict.

[Jhony]

"Jhonathan Rasputin Peris," Jhony answers. "Captain of the transport ship Happy Child."

Zeke doesn't seem to want to talk much, so it looks like Jhony will have to do it for him.

"It seems Zeke doesn't want to hand your drink over. Are you going to just let him keep it? It's going on your tab you know."

[Solomon Daenal]

Daenal eased from his rest and lumbered toward Jhony.

“Seems like you got him into this mess.” Solomon stopped only inches from the second man’s face. The pungent odor of alcohol was thick in the air. “That kinda makes you the fall guy.”

[Jhony]

"Oh? I don't know about that...It seems Zeke would have things differently."

Jhony nodded his head in the direction of his son.

"Would duck, if I were you."

[Zeke]

Zeke's heel is spinning around from Solomon's left in an arc aimed for the drunken man's head. Zeke won't have people messin' with his family or crew.

[Solomon Daenal]

His head lurched forward, as Zeke’s kick found its mark. Yet, Daenal remained on his feet. Deep throated breaths hollowed out becoming animalistic growls. Solomon slowly tilted back once more, his eyes engulfed by the flames of mounting rage.

“Congratulations, Cap.” He gave a mocking salute. “You just bought yourself and the kid a whole world o’ trouble.”

Without another word, Solomon swiftly clubbed the point of Jhony’s chin with a mighty right hook. Wasting no time, he speared the man’s son with a sidekick; finding its home deep in Zeke’s belly.

[Zeke]

Jhony rocks back against the wall, not out, but in no condition to stand up and fight. Daenal's kick takes Zeke, but the sight of his adoptive father getting hooked is enough to prompt a swift retaliation. He grabs the foot as it withdraws and follows after to sweep the man's other leg.

[Solomon Daenal]

Solomon fell to the floor with a thud, but this did little to slow him down. For the massive brute rose more infuriated than before, slinging tables and chairs as he went.

“C’mon, boy.” He waved, daring Zeke to attack. “It’s gonna take a whole lot more than fancy kicks to stop me.”

Daenal took up a traditional boxing stance, with the left arm to the front and the right tucked neatly just below the eye.

[Zeke]

Zeke interposes himself between Jhony and Solomon. Lying against the wall by the bathrooms is a mop bucket, with the mop leaning into the corner. Zeke calls it with telekinesis and takes a stance with the sopping wet mop. It approximates the Knight's Force Pike, and with the end of it all wet, it'll hurt like hell too. The mop head is much weightier than the Pike's blade, so Zeke injects a bit of strength with the Force and makes a swing at the giant's waist.

[Solomon Daenal]

Backpedaling, Solomon narrowly avoided the mop. Then, seizing opportunity, he quickly lunged forward with a right jab which smashed against Zeke’s nose.

[Zeke]

Smashed? More like...whiffed. Zeke takes the blow as a graze against his face with Solomon's smallest knuckles, jabbing back with the handle end of the mop.

[Solomon Daenal]

He shrugged off the handle shot to his ribs, retaliating by bringing his balled right fist in the opposite direction to land a backhand against his foe’s jaw.

[Zeke]

Zeke makes a dodge effort, but comes up short as the big man connects with his temple. Zeke staggers, seeing multiples of his opponent. He's strong, certainly, but faster than Zeke had figured. The Jedi gestures for a few knifes to fly in Solomon's direction, using his telekinesis to buy recovery time.

[Solomon Daenal]

Solomon halted his advance on Zeke at the approach of an odd sound. Turning, Daenal saw several airborne knives and had little time to drop below them. All of the soaring weapons flew just overhead, embedding themselves into the far wall, save one which Daenal was unable to avoid and cut a long gash across his right bicep.

He was beginning to feel the effects of the whiskey, but remained determined to break his enemy. On his feet again, he tore one of the daggers from the wall.

“Now you’re really beginnin’ to get on my nerves, kid.” Solomon stalked toward Zeke, wielding the six inch blade.

[Zeke]

Zeke simply grounds his stance, pointing the handle end of the mop forward at the ground, leaning his body slightly back, with the mop head up behind him.

[Solomon Daenal]

A quick knife thrust and the battle resumed. Solomon had every intent of burying his weapon in Zeke’s chest.

[Zeke]

Zeke scuttles sideways, looking for a better opening with which to retaliate. A sideways glance lets him know that the crew is okay, and then he's looking at Solomon again as the man makes another move.

[Solomon Daenal]

Undaunted, Solomon pivoted right to face his opponent. Daenal swung the knife again, this time in a cross action to cleave Zeke’s head from his shoulders. However, the assault was a ruse, for soon after its commencement Solomon withdrew and fired a heavy knee into the Knight’s midsection.

[Zeke]

The knee takes Zeke, lifting him off the ground. The smaller man flows with the momentum, sending out a length of the mop handle to strike vertically as he flips with the momentum.

[Solomon Daenal]

The mop end collided with Solomon’s chin. Added momentum from Zeke’s fall intensified the blow forcing Daenal to stumble back into a grouping of chairs.

With a few shakes of the head and deep breaths, he was back to his feet. The hit had been powerful, but Solomon was fueled by wrath and whiskey. He charged back across the room, snatching Zeke up by the collar, and nimbly tossed him toward the far wall.

[Zeke]

Zeke spins with it, landing upside down against the wall and falling off onto his stomach. This man has strength Zeke will never match naturally, but with the Force? Yes, Zeke can perform these same sorts of power moves. And with his telekinetic specialty, he can do it without touching him. Zeke gestures with a casual push, sending the big man reeling in the exact same fashion he had done to Zeke.

[Solomon Daenal]

He skidded along the floor, coming to rest head first at the base of a wall. Solomon took hold of a nearby chair using it as a brace until he was up again. Daenal was apparently reeling, but whether it was due to the blow or bewilderment he knew not nor did he care.

Solomon quickly hurled the seat at the smaller man.

[Zeke]

Zeke bats at it with his mop, deflecting it to the floor in an awkward way that sent shocks up his arms. He kicks it aside and closes in, determined to end this.

[Solomon Daenal]

Daenal let out a thunderous laugh, as he watched the Knight’s approach.

“That’s it, boy!” Solomon stalked toward Zeke on a collision coarse. “Show me whatcha got!”

[Zeke]

"...ok."

Zeke is in Solomon's face before the big man knows it, striking not with his mop, but with a fierce punch aimed just below his nose.

[Solomon Daenal]

Blood flew from Solomon’s lower lip on impact, his head wrenching sideways. However, when Zeke came into close quarters combat he provided the mammoth Daenal opportunity to take him up into a crushing bear hug.

Solomon lifted the smaller man high into the air, forcing his enormous fists into the Knight’s back. He began applying massive amounts of pressure to Zeke’s spine, attempting to squeeze the very life from him.

[Zeke]

"Aahhaaaahh!"

Zeke squirms in his grip, trying to break free, but finding it a difficult task. He pulls back with both hands, curling two fists and clapping Solomon's temples.

[Solomon Daenal]

His grip loosened and Zeke began to fall. The room was spinning, as the alcohol that once fed Solomon’s anger now sapped his strength. The series of blows to the head and fatigue from this battle as well as the brawl with the bouncers took its toll on his body.

Yet in all this, Daenal refused to be outdone. Summoning all his remaining power he hoisted Zeke once more into the air only to yank him down, slamming the young man atop a table in much the same fashion he had done to his previous opponents. With that he collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily.

[Jhony]

Jhony takes the defeated drunkard by the collar of his shirt, running him out the door and pitching him into the street. His jaw hurts like hell, and the muscles that move it keep popping on occasion. That guy's got alot of power backing him. He moves back to his son, touching at his jaw tenderly and offering a hand to the younger man who lies in the midst of the broken table, shifting his back uncomfortably.

"Can you stand?"

[Zeke]

Zeke shakes his head with a low groan.

"Nuh uh..."

He fought Solomon to a draw, and protected his crew and family. It brings a small spark of hope and pride to his heart, and some confidence as well. His father is calling the medics, who arrive shortly thereafter to bear him out to the Happy Child. Despite the raging pain in his body, he feels strangely good.

[Solomon Daenal]

Solomon looked up into a darkened sky. It was raining now. Both sweat and water poured down his body. Unsure of how he came to be out in the street, but that was not his foremost thought.

Rising to a seated position he peered into the ravaged bar, to see a father at the aide of his son. A light hearted chuckle crossed his lips.

"I'll be seein' you around, kid." A broad smile stretched from ear to ear just before his eyes rolled back and the monstrous Daenal fell into a drunken sleep.