Brim walked out of the saloon into the dusty street. Tumbleweed rolled by as he looked out across the dusty western town. The heat of a noon-time day in the west was something not to be taken lightly. A bead of sweat rolled down Brim's face as he walked down the front porch of the saloon. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, Brim wiped his forehead, giving a sigh of relief and a hiccup of tipsiness. It was a wonderful day to get drunk.
"Howdy there partner" a voice came from behind him, inside the saloon. "Whatcha lookin about fer on this fine day?"
"Not much but a place to rest my heels and kick back a few tankards" came his reply.
As Brim turned around he caught his first view of the man he was conversing with. Well, you could say man, the speaker was barely more than a teenager, and though his height would have you believe otherwise, a beanpole in ancient Japanese armor made the half ****ed Brim chuckle.
âWhy do you askâ Brim inquired, âlookin fer someone to show you how itâs done?â
âNo, I just was wondering what it is that a drunk does on a daily basisâ retorted the other man. âAs I can see, it isnât much, and definitely isnât worth my time.â
Brim chuckled as he walked his way back inside and toward the bar. Tossing back a few more whiskeys, he grabbed a sarsaparilla and walked up to the oddly dressed character.
âMaybe you could tell me why some freak dressed like a clown feels the need to start trouble with a man who has obviously been drinking?â
âMaybe it is because I donât like people who are nothing but a strain on those around them, and seem to do nothing productiveâ
Brim chuckled again as if the otherâs comments made no real impact on his demeanor. Taking a few steps toward the other Brim asked, âWhat is your name pup?â
âWhy do you ask?â
âWell Iâd rather like to know who keeps on dogging me in front of all these peopleâ¦â
âClenâ
ââ¦And Iâd also like to know so I can know what to write on your tombstoneâ
With his last comment, Brim advanced forward quickly to Clen and smashed his bottle of sarsaparilla across Clenâs face. Momentarily stunned, Clen brought his right arm up to his face to protect it from any further attack, while grabbing for his sword with his other arm. Already on to what the planned counterattack was, Brim brought his unused arm out to stop the sword from being unsheathed, and ripped the sheath off of Clenâs waist, throwing it across the room.
âLetâs keep this as a good old bar brawlâ he said.
With unexpected speed, Clen agreed to Brimâs proposal with a left cross that sent Brim reeling across the saloon. Smiling with a bit of blood dribbling down the corner of his mouth, Brim charged across the room, grabbing a chair as he went, and roared a battle cry that sounded like something from an era of the armor which Clen wore himself. Bringing the chair down on Clenâs head, Brim was astonished to see Clen ripping through the chair with one arm. He was even more astonished when Clenâs other fist came spinning around to greet him on the side of the head to send him reeling.
âWell then, looks like I might have to actually put some effort into this after allâ
With that, Brim leapt across the room, planting his knee in the face of Clen. Grabbing Clenâs head from behind, Brim flipped over his opponent, and hurled him with all of his might, sending Clen through the wall and into a room that was apparently being used by one of the local harlots.
Walking through the broken wall, Brim made his apologies to the lady and her compatriot, and dragged Clen across the floor towards the doors.
âMaybe we should take this outsideâ¦â