The Last Outlaw: Part 1

Helmund and the bar owner faced off at the lone wooden table with metal straps in the middle floor of the bar. 

The owner threw off his dark cloak and revealed a burly chest covered in blackened scars and long, baggy, pocket-covered tan pants, bound together with a rope at his waist.  His face was scrunched up in anger.  He slowly drew a long sword from his belt, the blade made a hissing whisper as it was removed from the sheathe.  All the while, Helmund held his gaze.

Helmund was wearing a red sleeveless shirt and loose fitting black pants.  On either hand he had sturdy metal gauntlets. 

The owner bent down and stretched his back.  He turned his neck from left to right and popping it with a series of clicks in rapid succession.  Then, he proceeded to do the same with the rest of his body as he loosened up.

“Don’t hold back or I am going to break you.” Helmund jeered at him.

The owner shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and slowly brought one foot behind his back. He put his weight on it and brought up his sword, “So be it.” he said as he moves in with a ferocious swipe.

Helmund turned his head in curiosity.

There was a band of players to the right that had an array of instruments. The jaunty toons that brought the bar to life came out of them. They had everything from woodwinds, to percussion, to string instruments in their possession and were quick skilled with them. All of that came to a halt.

Helmund looked over at the band of players.  He reached into his pants, pulled out a coin purse, and tossed it to them. 

“Play something I can swing my fist too.” He said with a winning smile.

The band leader grabbed the purse out of the air, “One, two...” he tapped off, then his band began playing a quick, pumping melody.

Helmund turned his attention back to the owner, “Now, where were we?” and with a quick flick of his hand, as if to swat away light itself, he deflected the sword. To the owner’s amazement, he was unharmed.

The owner rushed again at Helmund.  He dipped and weaved right as he was about to reach him and slashed downwards with the sword.  Helmund parried with one of his gauntlets and the blade clashed against the metal strapped to the table with a shriek that sent sparks flying into the air.  The owner was quick and uppercut slashed at the hand to hand warrior, attempting to catch Helmund from stem all the way to sternum.

Helmund sidestepped to the left just enough and the blade passed a hairs breath from his face. 

Quickly, before the owner could respond with a follow-up, Helmund swiftly punched him twice in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of the owner, stunning him for a brief moment.

The fight had taken Helmund and the owner dangerously close to the edge of the bar and Helmund had his back almost to the wall, despite his counter offensive.

The owner was still open for more attacks though and he was not done.

The quick blow had opened the owner up for another attack and Helmund obliged him, putting a simple sidekick into his stomach, doubling him over.  He then followed that up with a quick rising uppercut.

The crowd watching their fight let out a collective wince for the man.

Taking the opening and using the environment to his advantage, he back flipped onto the wall and pushed off towards the owner. The maneuver sent him front flipping towards his target and just before he reached him, Helmund flattened his body out, feet first.  Instead of colliding with his adversary though, he opted to wrap his feet around his neck instead. 

The maneuver caught the owner off-guard. But as he was recovering his wits, he dropped his weapon and caught Helmund by his shirt.

Helmund gave him an apologetic shrug. As if to say, “sorry” but the owner proceeded to slam him.

Helmund used this momentum in a creative way; instead of being pummeled into the newest table ornament, he swung into his opponent’s open legs. Causing him to lose balance and fall into the nearest support beam. Then, when he was directly behind him. Helmund curled his fist and angled his body towards the ground, as if to assume running position. He charged at the owner one last time driving his knee into his chest.

After taking a swig at his drink one last time, Helmund tipped the band players and made his way to the exit.

“What is your name?” The bar owner asked groggily as he stood to his feet.

“I am Helmund, The Last Outlaw” he said as he left and a ruckus grew in the bar.

Shouts of awe and fear alike filled the air as the realization that the infamous Helmund, slayer of kings, bringer of death, had been nothing but a man all along.