Clide almost dropped his glass when he heard the noise. Almost. It was some sort of crashing pop, similar to a gun shot, except it seemed to emit some sort of tooth-grinding reverberation for a moment. Simultaniously, everyone else in the pub either jumped in their seats, or chugged down the rest of their beers. One man immediately let out a spontanious belch which set the whole of a party section ary with laughter. No one seemed to care for looking, or even curious of what had happened. An earthquake maybe? Clide had never heard of earthquakes in the Southern part of Scotland. With quick pace and a glass in hand, he opened the glass door, chiming the bell and grabing notice of the bartender.
"Hey! Ya think yer leaving without paying, do you?" he belted in a thick accent. Immediately the rather stockey man next to the door rose from his stool before turning towards the towering presence of Clide that he was not expecting to deal with. His smug grin quickly faded to a to a cowering grimace. Clide, still fed up with the seemingly oblivious nature of the surrounding bar patrons, gave a quick, underhand jab to the man foolish enough to get in his way. The feeble whimper of this short, burly man was a small splash in still, yet immensly unstable waters. All chatter had ceased, and Clide gazed around the room to find every eye fixated intensely on him.
The glass door broke with the immense pressure of every patron and worker forcing themself upon Clide, pushing him into the street. Through sharp will enhanced by a drunken stupor, he managed to retain his balance, not to mention his glass. Forcing the three closest men to the ground with a swift, backhand strike, he took another gulp of his beer and readied himself for another enslaught of barbaric force - but it did not arrive in time for another immense crash.
It was different than the noise from earlier - it was much closer and almost seemed to build up before knocking several patrons and workers off of their feet. Should there have been bystanders to this war like scenario, they would have been knocked down as well. But it seemed as though everyone had vacated this section of the town.
The pointless squabble of angry, drunk men was interupted as attention was drawn up the hill, directly towards what seemed like some sort of immense sculpture covered in unsettled dust over an entire intersection. Upon cautious, distant speculation, it became aparent to Clide that some sort of explosion must have forced the concrete boulevard to break upwards towards the sky. It did not seem to break as expected 'though. Perhaps it was simply the 'trick of the drink', but it seemed to curl, as though weaving itself around a spherical presence, creating some sort of arch.
This was almost enough to distract everyone from the massive swarm of dark birds approaching quickly from above this ominous scene. But their curiosity did not compare to their overwhelming instinct to run as fast as possible away from this sight. Clide jolted to run, but did not move more than an inch before noticing that amidst this chaos, a lone figure of what seemed to be a young girl emerged from the massive makeshift archway. Without thinking, Clide sprinted, to the best of his impared ability, towards her. It was not until he was at least a stone's throw away before he realized that she was not a young girl, and she was not alone. Followed by a rather large dog, he saw that she must have been a woman of at least twenty-five. Upon even closer inspection, he first noticed that whatever kind of creature was following her, it was not a dog.
"Jesus, what the hell is going on here? What the hell is that? Are you..." Clide's barely coherent shouting was cut short by his even more shocking discovery. "...Danielle?"
Even through his hazey observations, he fixated upon her eyes, which were in return fixated upon his. Her gaze seemed to peer into his soul, as though she was searching for something.
Yet another crash interrupted with effect to even make Clide start. He started as a fool only to find that he had scared himself upon droping his glass.
"Where is Danielle?" she sternly asked, which set Clide into an even more deeply confused state. Desperately trying to grasp the situation, he simply gaped his mouth, before finally muttering some incoherent drunken banter.
"I don't think we shall get much from him in his current state, master Corby," which seemed to come from nowhere until Clide broke his gaze to stare in disbelief at the 'dog', which proved itself the source of these words.
"Perhaps not, Sully, but we have time enough."
Completely disoriented and only able to look down at his broken glass, Clide clenched his callouses in utter frustration. Cringing upwards towards this woman that he can no-longer believe is his wife, he is only able to grunt, "You owe me a beer," before passing out at the feet of mighty Peyton Corby.
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