Solo You Win Some...

[Rawls Nox]

25th of Fall, AV 512

The smell of animal dung, alcohol and sweat was wafting through the cool breezes of the Farmer's festival. Rawls had been meandering through the crowd, his eyes looking for others with chips on their shoulders. It wasn't so hard at all to start a fight in Sunberth, but talking seemed to be a waste of time. besides, most of these animals traveled in packs and he was still solitary, his hunger for combat and a release for the anger in his heart ranking too high to make friends.

Anyway, the chorus of cheers, groans and grunts sounded like music to the pugilist's ears. Walking through the ruckus in the field, he spotted a table with mugs of fresh piss and pulled one as he walked by. Downing the lukewarm drink, he could already hear the 'Hey!' behind him. Then the shove from behind, which put him down on the ground. The ground sped up to meet him, though he caught himself, a smile sliding across his features. "Who in the hell do you think you are. Go get your own mug, ya bum!" Standing back up, he turned to find himself looking down at a shaggy haired kid, maybe in his mid teens.

It was apparent in that moment that this kid had immediately realized that he might be in trouble. Rawls capitalized on this idea by rolling his neck and glaring down on the boy. "What of it? Go get another one. And get me one while you are at it!" He stepped forward at the boy, his muscles pushing his ego right in the kid's face. The kid took the expected step back, but he was smiling. And looking to his left. Before Rawls could turn, he was caught square in the jaw by a tremendous haymaker. The force of it sent him into a nearby vendor stall, wares clanking abd breaking under the force. He was totally unprepared for it.

The fire in his blood was ignited and he shook the ringing from his ears. Standing and righting himself, he looked to see the kid standing with a pleased smirk of satisfaction on his face. Standing behind a fat mountain of a man, bald and guffawing. "You punk! No one steps to my little brother like that. Go find a hold to crawl in before I put ya in one permanent like!" He was already clapping the little one on the shoulder and getting ready to turn on their heels to their table. Rawls was already squaring up.

"Why don't you give it another shot? Maybe one of the whores can throw one of those to match it?" His fists were up, his eyes drinking in the sloppy manpig. Another hefty chuckle came from its jowls as the bald man shook his head. "You are going to learn how to act right, one way or the other." He was undisciplined. His arm was just swinging in again like some great falling tree. Rawls sidestepped it and delivered a straight punch to the man's own cheek, waking him right up. He could see the familiar head shake and rage burning in the opponent, which is all he was now.

"You bastard!" Rage served a fighter, but only in controlled bursts. What this big beast was doing was showing his younger how not to fight. Rawls was shifting back and forth, his feet beginning the rhythmic swoon.

[Rawls Nox]

Now the people around him were interested. The martial movement of the boxer was not so common out here on these fields of chaos. Mostly drunken rolling around and flailing like Manpig was accustomed to. The fool was putting up his own hands now, maybe mirroring. Maybe not. Rawls didn't wait for another moment to slip by, moving in and putting a few quick jabs in to the beast's rubbery torso. His body slid out before another swing whistled through the air. Keep him moving, he will be on his back in no time.. "That supposed to hurt? Ha!" No, it wasn't supposed to hurt. Those jabs were feelers, sizing up the man's muscle mass better than eyes ever could.

Rawls put his smirk on, but said nothing. His breathing was even as he circled Manpig. He could hear his brother rooting him on, urging him to tear Rawls limb from limb. A firm rocket of spittle flew off toward the kid's direction, igniting the opponent's anger further. He rushed Rawls, his weight slamming into him, redirected as the boxer rolled with it, his left hand hooking into the man's kidneys with several solid thunks. He quickly put distance between them again, smiling larger at clear grimaces of pain on the beast's face.

No more bravado. Good. A straight firm shot from the pig glanced off Rawls' shoulder as he bobbed to the right and stepped into a hard uppercut, catching the large man in the chin, his teeth clacking together audibly. It put him back a few steps, for sure. No more play, Rawls thought. Time to put him down and end it before he got more large friends. Rawls didn't care for the open manner here. A ring defined a fight. This was just bedlam. A mug whizzed by his head, coming from a completely different direction. he made the mistake of looking away. Manpig caught him hard in the stomach, lifting him up off his feet.

The pain was electric, just like the response. An almost instinctive flurry of blows, two right jabs followed by a left cross to the head. The crowd around them was circling a bit. Too much attention. Too many willing participants. Not enough friends of his own. Rawls pushed in, not waiting for the long tiring he might endure in a sanctioned fight. He let the pain in his gut push him harder, straight punches pushing into Manpig's flab, one after the other. With an impact like Rawls had taken into the vendor, the slovelnly beast went down on his arse, his hands coming up. This time they were open. " I yield, I yield!"

In an alley or a cage, that would have been a bright red flag. Here, in this chaotic sea of people and eyes and fists, it was acknowledged. Rawls stepped back a pace or two, containing the pain in his gut until he was on his own. The little pig rushed to his brother's aid, randomly glancing back at the victor with scorn and disgust. Typical. Rawls could feel his cheek throbbing from the inital thunder. He started pushing his way through the crowd, making his way off the field. It was just too messy, too many variables.

[Rawls Nox]

A few claps to the back, some shifty eyes from whores, more than enough jeers one way or the other. Rawls knew better than to linger. He had only been in Sunberth a month and it was already clear to him that fighting alone was stupid. He wouldn't go back to his little room in the slums; more than likely he was being watched. A healthy dose of paranoia was something most carried here like fishermen carried rope in Zeltiva. Besides, with this Smiling Jack character roaming the streets, it only punctuated the need for more eyes.

He had just passed the outer perimeter of the Commons when he heard a collection of feet scuffing and rushing in his direction. He turned, his right hand raising out of instinct. It was the little shaggy headed runt, with his own friends. Three of them, varying sizes, none sloppy like his brother. They were fresh and ready to go. The little brat pointed at Rawls, his little rat eyes squinting. "There's the guy that hurt Gronn! Get him!" Rawls stood his ground, not being the scurrying rat type. His eyes scanned the area, however. He had to box this in a bit to have any hope. The three were skinny, for the most part, but one of them had a knife. Payback was in the air.

One of the three sniggered, " Not gonna be so easy this time. You shoulda just taken your beatin like a man and apologized. Now we gotta make an example outta ya for Gronn." They were expanding, trying to flank him. He was in an open street, an alley not too far out of reach. Alleys meant death usually, but if he didn't dictate some part of this fight, he might not get back to his little slum. His main attention was on the knife wielder as he sidestepped toward the alley, keeping his facing toward the three. No way would he let them circle him with a weapon.

Mistaking strategy for weakness, the three filed right in, rushing him with a chorus of bellowing. No showboating this time. A slip or misread could mean his guts spilling out. One of the two unarmed came within reach first, so he just threw his rage right into him, slamming him hard in the neck and shoulders with several downward blows. It pushed the one out but opened the other two. He tried to keep the other unarmed man between he and the knife wielder. He kept moving backward through the alley, absorbing punches from the buffer man. He could see the other looking for a window.

The blows were solid, but didn't carry too much strength. He settled for a sharp elbow to the man's shoulder, keeping him in his frame. By now, the other one was picking something up, wiping blood from his face. The kid was still back there, laughing and pointing. He could hear someone behind him. It was too much! His shuffling footwork became a brief retreat so he could see what it was. Apparently someone had come with a bucket of water, but the person was gone, the bucket lying on its side, its load pouring over the alley's floor. Buffer moved in with a run at Rawls, grabbing him at the midsection and tackling him. He could hear the others coming hard at the fall of their target.

Rawls saw the bucket at his side, his back wet. It was now a clear case of him or them. The one who had tackled him was trying to keep him pushed down, so Rawls threw his forehead into Buffer's teeth. Knife was gleaming as it was being turned to stab down. He didn't know where the other one was, but he suspected the extra weight on his legs explained it. He gripped the bucket by its rope and swung it hard into the head of Buffer, who slung over with it. This left Rawls wide open and Knife went for his moment. Swinging it back, he caught him in the wrist, the metallic shard skittering across the cobble.

[Rawls Nox]

Knife went down on his knees after the weapon as if Rawls might somehow magically get over there. He was too busy slamming the bucket down on the first guy's head, scooting back to the wall and pushing up until he could stand. He swung the bucket wildly as he backed up more. The force of fear turning into anger was apparent in the hard cracks the guy was taking with the bucket. Rawls was clearly shaken, though his boxer's training kept his wits closer than his fear. He only had a brief second of initiative. Instinct charged him into Knife, slamming him hard in the middle of the back with the bucket.

He slung it back to his left as Buffer was standing, catching him once more in the head and putting him out of the fight. A sharp crack came from the piece of brick that the other had apparently picked up. It caught Rawls in the bucket carrying shoulder, sending it to the ground with a clatter. Instinct now put him on his heels, running hard, the pain in his shoulder and the rest of his body moving him down alleys. He knocked things over and ran people over, but it didn't matter. Reputation didn't matter. Not getting stabbed to death in an alley mattered.

His conditioning kept his pace up and his feet sure, but he still changed streets and alleys for several minutes before looking over his shoulder. Plenty of people, but none he was concerned over. He leaned against a wall and bent over, coughing and breathing heavily. He rotated his shoulder, thankful to find his stiff and hurting, but intact. had it been the whole brick, maybe not. Standing and looking down the street, he wasn't sure if they were still coming. He wiped the blood and sweat from his face and kept moving, working his way back to his own little hole in this hellhole. He would make sure to pick his fights in the future with much more certainty.

[Archelon]

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Rawls Nox : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Boxing 2 Running 1 Brawling 1 Intimidation 1 Lores: Losing a fight, relatively speaking. Joining in the celebrations of the Farmer's Festival. Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Pretty straightforwards, you got what you used. Any questions,comments,or concerns please feel free to send me a nice pm.