Synopsis: Zuriel bumps into the Celestial God of Celebrations where the Wine Runs Sweetly-but-too-swiftly, and they aren't terribly friendly.  Finally the God, amused by Zuriel more than anything, gives him a bottle of Celestial Wine and escapes.  Meanwhile, the forest this fight happened in burns down, thanks to a superheated fire anima and judicious use of Transcendent Phoenix Pinions, and Zuriel has to buy off his neighbor, who threatens war.

Players: Cathak Zuriel

Run by: Third Eye Blind (Awarded 2xp by Kukla)

         Sometimes being a ruler and a general grates on your nerves and as such every so often one has to relax. Today is Zuriel's day of relaxation. He has donned a heavy cloak over his fine silks and took a jog to a nearby forest. With the hood pulled over his head, his swift movements make him look like a brigand on the run or a ranger chasing a brigand. The disguised Cathak doesn't particularly care which he is mistaken for, he just looks ahead as he runs, breathing in the country air.

         The forest is damp, but exceedingly pleasant, teeming with wildlife. Zuriel's feet pound an ancient path often mistaken for a deer trail; in fact, it is much older than that, a fact known by very, very few. The reason for the legend of the six-fingered road, however, lies right in front of him: as he rounds a bend, another figure slams right into him, jogging from the opposite direction. He's huge, glistening with sweat and oil; the late winter cold bothers him not, despite being clad in naught but a loincloth of spun grapevines. He smells of bad wine and good love, and he's holding a cask of woven reeds which looks like it could contain a few bottles of liquor. Shaking his head blearily to clear it-- drunkenness is in his eyes-- he stares down at the scion of Hesiesh in his path. "Sssshhhhhould look where yu'r goin', mister." Wobble.

         Zuriel is not the sturdiest of Dragon-Blooded. He does not have the steadfastness of an earth dragon or the flexibility of a sapling granted by a wood dragon. As he slams into the giant he bounces back a whole two yards and a further five as he slides back on the forest floor. Picking himself up he squints glaring at the man and holds up a shaking fist, "YOU should look where YOU are going, peasant!" He sniffs the air and cringes, "Ugh... you smell horrible. Have you ever heard of a little product called soap?"

         "Shoap?" repeats the being dully. His hair is blond, and hangs limply on his brownish skin like spaghetti. "Wait... didjoo... didjoo... call me a PEASANT?" The hair gets tossed for good measure, but doesn't move so much as an iota. His brow snaps together, and his three chins wobble. "Lishen, bushter, I am no /peasant/." To back himself up, he manifests an aura around himself that evokes awe in mortals and acts as an ID card for everyone else -- now the smell is even more powerful, and manifests as glowing motes of wine-colored essence. "Ah shaid I was shorry." No, he didn't, but apparently he's too far gone to keep track with what he's said and what he thinks he's said.

         The glowing aura combined with the potent stench makes it hard for Zuriel to keep his cool as he pulls his cloak over his nose, "Sweet merciful Dragons, the stench got worse! How is that even possible?" Looking up at the triple-chinned individual he puts one of his mud-soaked boots out and says, "Tell you what, I'm a generous man. I'll accept your apology when you lick my boot clean." Clearly Zuriel has lost it, he's had it with this drunken godling.

         "Why don't shu... eat MY boot!" slurs the god -- no godling, he, but simply an extremely powerful incarnation of something unsightly. It happens. However, he incongruously whallops Zuriel over the head with his cask, instead, which despite appearing to be woven of reeds, does not catch fire. It also certainly doesn't feel like reeds, but much harder. Something inside the cask clinks ominously, causing the entity momentary distraction as he worries over the state of his cache.

    Zuriel's eyes widen as he watches the cask being brought to bear upon him. The giant's slothy nature belies his preternatural dexterity with a wine cask. Even as Zuriel activates his Dragon's given anima power and struggles to ignite the might of Hesiesh within him, he gets a mouthful of cask--leaving a burn mark of his face along with charred blood. "Oh that is it, you big bastard! I'm going to send you where the sun's green. The kiddy gloves are off," he says as he wipes blood off his mouth.

         Gurgling to himself, the god clutches his precious treasure to himself and sways a bit. Apparently he wasn't really expecting the strength of Zuriel's reaction, because his eyes widen -- they're completely dialated, by the way, and he mutters, "Don't like green shuns." Then his legs, each the width of a tree-trunk, flex, and a moment later he's on a branch that miraculously holds his weight. "OI, SHUCKER, HOWDYALIKEMENOW?" Then he lifts his viney loincloth and moons the Dragon-Blooded. It's not a pretty sight.

         Zuriel is not one to back down from a fight. He jumps up as fiery wings of doom form behind him and propel him closer and closer to the godling. Even as he draws his swords to fight, he draws in a deep breath and exhales a large flaming ball of spit. It travels its course and seems aimed for the little god's backside but at the last moment it seems to veer out of its way and misses, striking the branch beneath him instead.

         The branch beneath the God of Celebrations Where the Wine Runs Sweetly-While-Sloshed burns merrily. Thus, he opts to leave, but not before he swings his cask wildly at Zuriel again. However, it takes him a few moments of waving to notice that the man is under him. Farting loudly, the being steps off his branch and falls, in a controlled way, hoping to hit his newfound opponent on the head. Essence flows with him... but Zuriel is left untouched by flesh, only by the horrible, horrible stink. The god, meanwhile, plunges down and lands neatly on the ground, one knee bent, the other stretched out.

Cathak Zuriel 's fist is laden with water essence as he flies down and swings, only to miss due to the overwhelming stench of the giant.

         "Mishter... you shuck. But don't be all... down on yerself... about it. I know whatchoo need... shome picker-upper!" The god opens his ominously magical cask and pulls out a wine bottle. Rather than beat it over Zuriel's head, though, he offers it to him; letting it drop through the air, and assuming that the martial artist is going to catch it in time, he then invokes the Principle of Motion to fulfill the rest of what he wishes to do -- bounce back up into the branches, and then bounce again and again until he's out of sight completely, lost in the forest.

         Zuriel catches the wine bottle and sets it down beside him, looking around for the giant person he was fighting. Unable to see him he shouts out, "Come back here, coward! Let's finish the fight. Or are you scared by someone that according to you 'schucks'?"

         The god is long gone, thanks to his tweaking of his own speed, and so the only thing that hears Zuriel is his forest, burning down around him. Deer are pouring out of the trees, rabbits are suffocating from the smoke filling their warrens, and squirrels are leaping through the canopy, desperate to get /away/.

         Of course, all of this is difficult to see, since Zuriel's eyes are focused on the dematerialized world.

         Zuriel looks down for the bottle and picks it up. Flying straight up into the canopy he flies in the direction that the giant was moving when he first met him, namely the direction Zuriel came from to begin with.

(The kingdom adjacent to the Spiral threatens war with Zuriel if he doesn't recompense them for their burnt down forest.  After tense negotiations, he pays them a Res 4 payoff, and violence is narrowly averted.)