(The Pig's Foot Tavern) Brawling Good times, eh? (open ;) )

[Antar]

12th day of Summer, 511av

The Pig's Foot was an establishment in Sunberth that demanded respect. From it's customers to it's barmaids and its owner, the pig's foot tavern was always a place to be wary of. A place of thieves , rogues, scoundrels , and brutes. The old man who owned the joint was dangerous enough by himself to brook no damage to his property, and had the skills to back it up. When the old man got into play, no one went against him and most if not all helped him kick the vinegar out of any sordid sot who crossed him.

Even so, the tavern had brawls almost upon a nightly basis, and that was why Noth was here. The rogue intended to throw himself into the deep end tonight to get himself roughed up enough to show he had the gumption for being in a town like this and get some practice. Taking precautions, he only let himself bring his kukri knife strapped to his left shoulder, leaving his gear and money at home. This was a night for a fight, that was enough for him to blow off some steam.

As he walked through the doorway, he was greeted by the smells of cheap ale, and spilt beer mixed with the slight iron tang of blood as he saw a few gents carrying a man with a bruised and bloody face towards the back, and the alleyway beyond. A chorus of jeers and epithets followed the wake of his passage. The cretin's face was a mismatch of gooseggs with a bloody nose twisted slightly to the side and his labored breathing showed a canvas of broken teeth between his lips.

It seemed someone had gotten the piss beaten out of him, and that made Antar sad for it meant he might have missed the opportunity for a good fight. Taking a look around, Noth wondered where to start first and his eyes eventually settled on a large brutish sailor-sort sitting alone and bleeding happily from a head wound as he drank his beer. There weren't many around him now, and the close by tables seemed a little wary of the man as he was sitting alone.

With a devil may care grin, Noth sauntered up and sat down at one of the empty seat's at the large brute's table. It took a few moments for the inebriated fellow to realize he was there, and his presence was greeted by a well mannered and eloquently articulate response, "Whaddya want, ya git?"

Noth smile grew slightly larger, like a shark scenting there was blood in the water, as he reveled in the fact the game was now afoot. After all, insulting others was an art form people rarely took part in these days. Speaking loudly so the drunk and battered man could hear him. "Nothing at all, big 'fella. I was just wondering what ugly creature had invaded this place tonight. "

The sailor's speech slurred a bit as he spoke into his cup, "Yeah... is that so?"

"Of course my dear fellow, it's just that this person outside was screaming that a lug like you crawled out from the water like some disgusting gargantuan sea monster. I kinda was curious about all that, so I came in here to have a look see, I'm a bit disappointed to learn it's just your bloody old mug, my friend.

The sailor's eyes bulged a little as he set down the cup and pointed a meaty finger in Noth's face, "You best shove off, I ain't in the mood to break your bones."

Noth leaned back in his chair and laughingly shrugged,"You... break my bones? I'm sorry my good man but you look so bruised and battered you shouldn't even be able to stand let alone beat up little ol' me. What's the next threat? That you're going to pop my head off my twiggy little neck and mount it on your trophy wall?"

"Bet your arse I will." Letting out a growl of rage, the sailor tried to make a grab for him, but Noth was already in motion. Kicking back on the table he let his chair fall back to the floor before rolling backwards to gain his footing. The sailor was already shakily rising as he let loose an curse in frustration as he just stared at Noth.

Noth took a slight bow to the burlish man , before holding his hands up peacably. "Now please, there is no need for violence here my big fellow. It's not my fault you can't be the epitome of good looks now , is it? Wouldn't that be the other guy who got you bloody?"
Provoked by his taunting the the muscleman let loose an incoherent cry of rage as he pushed the table to the side. Its contents clattered to the floor as the sailor rushed forward with a high right hook. Expecting the first blow to be something like this, Antar ducked underneath the punch, twisting around his opponent before Noth planted one foot on the man's lower back. He pushed hard.

The drunken sailor stumbled forwards a few steps before wheeling around towards the smaller man. Antar placatingly held up his hands, spreading his arms wide as he smiled," Maybe I should just buy you a drink, eh? That might make it all better for the giant troglodite?"

Growling, the sailor rushed him again, as the crowd began to cheer and place bets.

[Bob Barton]

The cheers of the brawl and the sounds from the fight was not even noticed by Bob. He was stuck all in his own little world then where the slightest distraction can mean the difference from life and death...financially anyway and it was this spot that he is in right now. He was stuck in a card game with some other people he met in the bar earlier. The friendliest looking bunch he ever met in Sunberth so he thought why not just join in their game? They didn't seem opposed to the idea anyway.

The game started off well with Bob's luck running strong. The cards in his hand turned up being the cards to make the best hand for the round. If that wasn't enough his training in reading facial expressions and body language was able to alert him of the danger when his opponents were in a position of winning. If their face and body showed an out of turn attention into the game, Bob would know that they were going to win and would withdraw from the round and when it showed panic and hesitation instead, he would conclude that they were going to lose and Bob would push them to the brink. It didn't matter that Bob was still a little bit inexperienced that he cannot tell from a bluff or not accurately, those little tricks helped him a lot in maximizing his winnings. Because of that Bob was on a roll, getting more and more mizas into his side of the table and everyone knows that mizas are the most important thing in gambling. Its like ammunition, the arrows to your bow and this is especially true in a game of Blush. A well placed bet can kill your opponent like an arrow through their heart no matter what cards you hold.

Bob's winning streak continued until the climax of the game. The game went so well that Bob did not even have to use all his tricks to try and beat these amateurs. In a flash things changed. The men no longer hesitated to place big bets, displaying an unnatural confidence that they will win. For the next few rounds Bob lost a lot of mizas to those big bets and experienced a little shock. The mizas which were his winnings began to become smaller and smaller. It took him a while to regain his composure but by then his winnings reduced substantially.

Like any gambler knows, gambling is based on a lot of skill. Sure you need luck as well but if you can't make your own luck why should it come to you for free? Bob had to analyze. As the game continued he noticed that the other men were giving subtle signs to each other coinciding with their bets. Bob mumbled to himself in frustration "Damn! I fell for the oldest trick in the book!" Yes he did because these men were working together to suck all the mizas Bob had on him for todays gambling. None of them had to win individually because they only had to split the money 3 ways in the end and they all win. Eventhough Bob knew the trick now it was useless. He had to go on with the game for a while longer. Even if he confronted the group, they would deny it or worse, beat the crap out of him in Sunberth custom.

He picked up the pace now, just plain reading a person was not enough. He would bet as small as possible or withdraw from the round if he was really going to lose but he could not bet big because they would all just withdraw themselves and Bob would get nothing. Only on those rare moments he was confident he would win with two good cards in hand, he would give them a little nudge for the group to follow by showing some signs or anxiety and hesitation with a little mental suggestion with his hypnotism with something along the lines of "He's just bluffing." or "He can't follow through!". Or if his cards were really bad but the pot was really high he would do the opposite, showing an extreme confidence and using mental suggestions as he stares into their eyes giving off power like "Damn, he is going to win" or "Are my cards good enough?" making them run and leaving Bob with the entire pot. Using those tricks Bob was still able to stay in the game but only hanging by a thread.

Bob knew he could only keep this up for so long and he just wanted to take whatever winnings he had with him right now and leave. But the group would not allow it. When he asked "I guess its time to call it a night" they would scowl, growl and show a little muscle to intimidate Bob. Clearly they are not going to let Bob leave until they had back their mizas...and Bob's. Bob looked around to clear his mind and think up of a way to get out of this. It was then he noticed the bar brawl and his mind got to work. Maybe he could get out of this after all...

OOCSorry its long but I wanted to keep up with Antar's pace XD

[Dourne]

Sitting alone at a wooden table in the corner of the tavern, Dourne admired the lengths these young brawlers would go to, to assure victory. Anything was used in the fights he witnessed through the course of the night, glass bottles, broken chair legs, even the good old fashioned barman's metal club that was neatly hidden behind the bar. Blood and spit was everywhere in the bar that night, it was customary to get your legs broken the first time you stepped into a tavern in lawless Sunberth, Dourne had witnessed and experienced it countless times in his younger years, years that he spent crawling away with a battered face and snapped arms trying to escape a premature death from having his head smashed in.

The atmosphere of the tavern was louder and more aggressive than usual, Dourne had spent the majority of his life in Sunberth, occasionally wandering into the wilderness just outside the city limits to refresh himself from the constant smell of anarchy and chaos that was the stone jungle of Sunberth, Although he knew only the ruthlessness of his home city, there was only so much dismay and suffering a man could bestow upon is residence before he completely loses himself in the carnage, a recurrent detox was perfect for keeping ones composure, wit and cunning.

The sound of yelling and roars from drunk, wannabe fighters was music to Dourne's ears, Thats all he had ever known, fighting, dueling, killing and more fighting. Guzzling down the last of his thick, groggy beer from a large, metal, horn-like drinking cup, he stood up tipsy from hours of constant drinking and walked over to the barman. "Another beer!", snatching the drink from the barkeeps chunky hands with out even paying. Sitting back at his lonesome table, he noticed a game of Blush at the other end of the room, he laughed with arrogance as he saw the misfortunes of the gambling table.

He then moved his eyes to the right and saw, a tallish, wiry man speaking to a fat, brutish sailor, as the fight erupted Dourne laughed uncontrollably, "Hahahaha! Kill him!" he roared as the tall, wiry man started to lay into the fat, useless sailor.

Finishing yet another groggy beer, he went up again for another, only to walk into a sleak, young man about 19 years old, "Watch where your going you old cretin!" the youngling said with overconfidence and cockiness while carrying beers back to his buddies. Dourne grabbed the youngling's head and propelled his own into it causing a sicking crack, dragging him over to were he was sitting, he sat and placed the insolent juvenile on his knee while pulling his hair back revealing his face to the tavern, "I know the Crimson Edge! the boy screamed with terrified tears running his cheeks. Ignoring the boys screams and ways of trying to get out of his punishment from disrespect, Dourne said in a stern, deep voice "I have seen hundreds of bold, little insects like you", "Yet I dont think I can recall any of them receiving a just reward". Pulling out a razor from his boot, he said in the same tone, "Well im going to give you, your just rewards boy!", "Which reminds me, do you know were i got these scars?" he ran the razor across the scars on his face. "My father was a drinker and a ruthless monster. And when i was younger i witnessed him slaughter my mother, after he dealt with my mother, he came at me.... he then put me on his knee, pulled my hair back and rubbed the same bloody razor that he killed my mother with, up against my face, he then said "Boy! just because you can shave doesn't mean you are a man!" then he gave these beautiful trophies".

As the last words spilled of his tongue, he proceeded to brutally carve up the boys face, blood splattered everywhere as the poor boy screamed. After a minute of pain, Dourne threw him to the ground, stood up and kicked him in the ribs, "Get your Crimson Edge friends then! From what i heard they're my kind of people to party with" he loudly shouted while returning to his table, drink in hand, guzzling his way to a stupor.

[Cade]

Cade could hear the commotion with in the pig foot tavern, a familiar sound that brought delight to his ears as the barbarian licked his lips for a rumble. He was a man that rarely needed an excuse to commit acts of violence and there he was, walking calmly towards the fray inside the tavern, limbering his limbs up as he went on his way. As he closed the distance to the entrance, a young man came charging out the doors with his face torn to bits. A good sign, the halfblood myrian thought to himself, focused still on the injured man. What really caught Cade's attention was that the bloodied boy was running straight towards him, forcing Cade to prep himself for battle.

" Have you had enough, or you looking for Death?" Cade growled at the bloody faced man, stopping him in his tracks as the barbarian's blade was drawn.

"............a........man .......inside is looking for you!" The young man whimpered as he fell to his knees " He did this to my face.......... and told me to get you"

Cade's left hand grasped the young man's hair yanking his head back so he could examine the handy work of a stranger seeking him out. " So you were going to lead him straight to me, were you?" The barbarian's tone was vicious and annoyed as his right hand extended his longsword out to the right side of his body. " I guess it was death you were looking for"

"Nnnn........"

Before the man could explain himself his head was detached with one single stroke of Cade's blade. The savage dangled the decapitated head from his left and as he sheathed his bloody sword and leaving the headless body behind him. Cade walked into the tavern, seeing the dust up before his eyes ensue, a familiar sight was Antar playing Patti cake with a over large sailor.

"LISTEN UP!!!!" The barbarian's deep toned accent thundered through the tavern. He lifted the decapitated head up high, exposing the stranger's art work. " WHOS HANDYWORK?" He challenged the stranger to show himself amongst the rambunctious patrons. He had no intentions of halting the fights, he just wanted to know the man seeking him out and fouling his plans of a nights worth of brawling.

[Dourne]

Dourne cruelly smiled, showing his yellow-stained teeth from constant nights of drinking every alcoholic substance in Sunberth, happy that he was able to share his skill at carving things with the unlucky boy. He laughed as the young, now very bloodied man ran out of the tavern, clutching his face as blood slivered its way through his fingers. A few seconds after the boy ran out of the tavern, there was a ring of steel as the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard rang through the air, then there was a Slice. Walking through the door was a ruff man similar height to Dourne's own, and in his raised hand was the boys decapitated head, almost unrecognisable with the blood that dripped from his neck and that still lingered on his souvineers that were the cuts. "WHOS HANDYWORK!?" the man roared.

Laughing with glee, Dourne gobbled down the last of his pint which had been his 16th of the night and threw it to the chipped, blood stained, wooden boards that was the taverns floor, he then slowly got up, walked over to the man with his head and stopped a few meters infront of him.

Grinning with brutality, he shouted "That would be me boy!", he pulled out the infamous razor from his boot and threw it directly at the severed head, hitting it straight in the left eye. "And thats my friend that helped me create the magnificent piece of art" he laughed with the same merciless smile.

"Im predicting your one of the Crimson Edge, that your friend had so enthuiasticly mentioned!"" Dourne said strongly, trying to contain the laughter that was so evident in his voice. "By the look of things though, I guess that wasn't the case then!".

Standing there patiently in the middle of the tavern, infront of the man, Dourne began to wipe off the blood from his armor that was from his recent artwork of boy, it was intricately decorated with slashes and grazes from countless fights, brawls and battles. Still though, the armor was a fine set to behold, thick pauldrons made of masses of tanned bear-hide compressed together, they sat comfortably on his shoulders, the armor spikes that protruded out of them instilled little bit more fear than normal. His thick fur-lined gauntlets that held two blades at the end strapped tightly to his arm. His greaves and boots also fur-lined and made of bear-hide, had large bear fangs sticking out of the knee pads and points of the boots. However the most outstanding part of his armor was definitely the circular metal plate that was strapped to the chest of his fur-lined breastplate. The round plate had on the front, a face of a ravenous creature, roaring in anger out to the world, it glimmered from the dying torches that illuminated the tavern from the sides and corners of the room.

After tending to the blood that had been splattered all over him, Dourne barked "Like I said to your associate after I slashed him to ribbons, Your the kind of guys that Id love to party with!"

Stroking his dirty blonde beard that dangled from his jaw and tensing his bulking muscles that appeared out from behind his armor, he shouted loud, brazen with humor and a hint of rage, "Well boy?! Are we going to stand here?! or shall we dance?!".

[Antar]

To Noth, going up against a fellow as big and brawny as this sailor, wasn't an easy task. He knew a good hit would knock him down on his arse faster than braga's whores drew glances from men's eyes. So in his mind, it was key to distinguish a simple tactic. His only chance would have to be to keep his distance, and then strike quickly, rushing in through the opponent's guard to do a little bit of damage before darting back out of reach. As a fencer would be compared to some brute just waving a longsword about as they tried to bash someone's skull in.

If the sailor got even one meaty hand on him, he knew he’d be in trouble. So he faded back, sidestepping again towards a nearby table as the brute charged. He stretched his right hand out searching for something to grab, and his palm settled about the handle of a clay mug. Tightening his grip upon the object Noth spun away as the sailor passed, lashing out with a snapkick to the man’s backside, causing the brute to stumble slightly and curse as he turned around to stare at Noth. With a smile, Antar stood back to take a swig from the mug, tasting some fruity concoction that seemed to hold a wee bit of alcohol. Waggling his eyebrows at the man, Noth blithely taunted the man as he eyed the distance between them.”Well if that’s all you got you foul smelling billygoat, I must wonder how beat up you really are you gloppy bottle of cheap-smelling skunkweed? Come on over here to get one in the yarbles.” With a smirk, Noth cocked his head to the side and put one finger to his chin as if he was thinking hard about something. “That is if you have any marbles, you dumb petching eunuch git!”

If it was possible, Noth could have sworn the man turned an even deeper shade of red then was possible, his face flushing in anger as the jowls around his chin quivered in apoplexy. For a few moments the sailor stayed silent as he began to crack his knuckles. ”Any last words you have to say mongrel?”

Noth’s eyes danced a bit, knowing to every fight there was a mental component, and he was trying to seem more sure of things then how he actually was. It was a dangerous game he was playing, impersonating the part of lion, but he did it well. Each time wondering if anyone behind him would call his bluff to help the sailor out. He sighed a bit, letting the stale tavern air enter his lungs before he breathed out again. ”Come on Georgie, have you no manners? Just let me get one final drink, okay?” He brought the mug to his lips to have a sip while holding up one finger as he sipped down the beverage much to the consternation of its owner, but soon the man himself was guffawing at Noth’s sheer cheek.

While he was imbibing the pleasant beverage, he noticed out of the corner of his eye Cade storm into the room to start causing a ruckus about something. He couldn’t tell what the larger man was in a frenzy about. But he knew when the Myrian was in such a state it usually meant bad news for the next few minutes. ‘Skyte, he’d have to end this quickly then.’

The Sailor looked at him and grunted while the man moving his head around in circles to crack his neck, ”Well far be it for me to deny a man his last drink! You ready?

Noth shrugged and saluted the sailor with the mug, “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. It might be time to fight serious-like now. Don’t you think? I promise though, no knives. How ‘bout you? Just a good clean brawl?”

”Yeah… this’ll be real serious like. No knives either, I don’t need knives to ruin that pretty face of yours. The sailor noted as he laughed again. Noth just saluted him once more with the ceramic mug and made as if to drink once more.

He got preempted by the man, with only a tightening of the man’s stance serving as a warning for his next move. Noth tried to skirt backwards, but this time the sailor was having none of it. He advanced at a moderate pace, bouncing left and right with Antar’s backward motion. Leaving him no room to maneuver as he feinted a right hand strike towards Noth’s temple. Instinct forced the rogue to raise an arm to shakily block, twisting his wrist and fist at the last moment to add a bit of power to his parry even as the move placed him a little off kilter. To his detriment, the sailor used this to his advantage to make a left hand hook impact with Noth’s solar plexus. Forcing him to keel over as it was followed with a right handed slap across the face which sent him spinning to crash into one table while still holding the drink in hand. While on the ground his dazed mind noted the hanging candle fixtures just above the tavern area.

Coughing slightly from the wind being knocked out of him, Noth reached upwards to try to prop himself against the table in time and pushed himself up to one knee. He turned his body to the side, limiting the target zone as the man came in again like a freight train, with a right jab to the side of his abdomen. Noth countered by rotating his body to whip his right shoulder around to bring the mug to squarely crash down upon the drunken sailor’s head.

The man backpedaled wildly, blood coating his bald head from the wound giving Noth room to force himself to his feet. In between ragged breaths he gasped out the words, ”So you going to fight… fair you big lug? Not even giving a man…*gasp* his right to a last bit of the good stuff?

The sailor wheeled towards the sounds of his taunts, and roared out in fury to rush at Noth again.

”Damn I guess that’s a No.” Noth muttered to himself as his forced his battered body to hop to the nearest table and then upwards to grab the chandelier. Swinging like a crazed monkey, his kick allowed him to bring his booted heels forwards to smack into the large man’s chest with the superior opposing force of all his body weight behind him. The impact sent the sailor’s body in one direction as his legs continued down the opposite way, following the pat he was charging towards Noth just a fraction of a second before.

The sailor fell backwards, hitting his head with a resounding smack upon the floor as Noth’s momentum reached the end of the arc and started to swing backwards.

Noth lost his grip and fell heavily across his back on the table he recently used as a vaulting platform, and the rogue rolled into one of the crowing men’s laps. The same guy he had borrowed the redberry from, to be exact.

They laughed and jeered at his spunk and pushed him to his feet, some clapping him on the back. For a second Noth shook his head to clear it a little as in the background he heard the redberry man say, ”Good shot there fella, Keep it up. I got five silvers on you?”

Noth looked at him in bewilderment for a moment and tried to clear out the cobwebs which were present in his skull, ”Wait.. a sec Ser, isn’t it over?” The rogue got a very quick answer to his question,when the battered sailors meaty paw gripped him about the ankle. With a savage yank, Noth’s feet were pulled out from under him and he crashed belly first to the floor. Twisting around to right himself he saw the bloodied- red face of the sailor leering at him as he reached another paw to grip Noth about the calf in a painful vise grip as the meathead tried to pull him closer.

Swearing about the toughness of stupid sailors, Noth raised his right boot and smashed his heel down into the man’s face a few times. As toughened leather met sea-coarsened skin, the rogue couldn't help wonder just how much punishment he might need to deliver the petching bastard before he went down for the count.

[Bob Barton]

A bit flustered, Bob needed a drink to keep his cool. But on the table there was nothing else to drink except that horrible concoction known as alcohol. Bob took it anyway, grabbing the glass of the man from beside him. He ignored the protest of the man as he drank. It was all part of the plan, taking in large gulps of the beverage but at the same time putting into it a lesser amount of res. It was the first time he tried this, res tasted funny eventhough its supposed to be a part of yourself. Or was it because he normally tried to avoid alcohol in his mouth? Whatever, he rubbed his tongue around the inside of his mouth where he was collecting the res he made to come out and spit the liquid into the cup.

It was hard to get all the cards to build up to this point and finally he had one of the best hands, as good as he can tell compared to the others since he already knew that two of each high card has been used up and he now had three tens on hand. "Read em and weep boys!" Bob said and took all the mizas on the table he could get his hands on and put them away in his pocket. What happened after that was the man beside him shot his hand out to grab Bob's arm and the man opposite him said "Oh nooooo, you are not going anywhere until we have ALL your mizas" with his ugly grin on his face.

Suddenly everyone on his table, even Bob looked at the Myrian who stormed into the tavern demanding something...and holding out a head? Well it was a good distraction as any. Taking the glass he was drinking from earlier Bob splashed the liquid combination of res and alcohol at the face of the man grabbing on to him. While the liquids were on his face, he concentrated hard so that the layer of res behind the alcohol will hold them on to the man's face specifically the eye region. While the man screamed something about his eyes burning and let go of Bob to scrape the alcohol off. Bob rammed his shoulder on the man's chest putting all his weight behind it. The man fell down on the floor still screaming and writhing to get the alcohol out of his eyes.

Looking back, maybe Bob should have just ran instead of trying to drop the man because in a second, the third man stood on his chair and leapt across the table at Bob with his hands stretched out front trying for a tackle. Without much time to react, Bob could only move his body to the side and get the wind knocked out of him at one of the man's fist went into his chest. But because of that he was able to avoid getting grappled, and using the force of the blow spun so that he can catch himself on the floor with his arms. The man who flew at Bob unfortunately ended up tackling another one of the tavern customers, worse still that man was extremely big and didn't like getting tackled one bit. Oh well, those two are each other's problem now.

With all that ruckus at his table, Bob missed the fact that someone had already admitted to the head thing. So he just went on with the plan to make sure he can escape. Crawling on the floor towards the exit he started shouting at the Myrian "Its that group behind me! And they were laughing very happily when they did it!"

After that Bob went straight across the floor of the tavern like a cat trying to escape his pursuers who he could hear cursing and swearing about what was going to happen to Bob after they had settled with the tackled man. Going under other tables and people, Bob may have brushed a leg or two or happily peeped up a few women's skirts with a grin. But it is very hard for a little man to navigate a crowded floor what more when he is crawling? Instead of the exit he wanted to get to, Bob soon found himself looking straight at Noth's face who was taking to the fight down on the floor as well.

[Antar]

oocBob's interaction approved during creation

With one last kick of his boots, Noth was rewarded for his efforts by a sickening crunch of the sailors nose and cracking of some of his remaining teeth. The sheer brutality of the act offset the cartilage, but the angle didn’t allow the nose bridge to shatter. But it must have hurt like hell since the sailor cursed as the brute let go long enough to grip his face as the blood began to flow out his nostrils and tears came to his.

‘It was always a shame to see a grown man cry.’

Noth shimmied himself backwards and rolled back to his stomach in order to push himself to his feet. Halfway to his elbows he came eye to eye with the familiar face of his favorite gambler. It was in these rare moments of time, that everything seemed to slow and he noted Barton's flushed features. Blurting out the insipid question he had to gruffly ask, "What the hell are you doing here Bob?!?!"

The vertically challenged man looked at him in startled amazement, and muttered something loud enough about being in trouble. Rising to one knee Noth looked over the table to spy three large brutes who used to be playing cards storming towards them both. Taking a glance over his shoulder at the sailor was slowly struggling to sit up, forced Noth made a quick decision.


"Tell you what, Bob. You help me, and I'll help you!"
The gambler looked at him with a bit of perplexity and spoke, "But ho-?"
Noth didn't give him a chance to wonder how as he picked the four foot something man up by the armpits and vaulted back to his feet. He was holding Bob in the air by now, and spun about towards the sailor as he translated one hand to the back of bob's neck cuff. His momentum gave him the impetus for the toss as he shouted, "Bang that lug's head into the ground for me!

It was a short distance, and thus a short throw, as he saw Bob impact into the sailor's chest to the cahoots of the surrounding bar goers.

Behind him he noted the voice of one of the three approaching men shout,"Petching dwarf, I'll bash your skull in!"

True to his word, Noth turned towards a table to pick up a plate full of some shelled creature and tossed it sideways like a frisbee at a man who was rubbing at his eyes as he approached. Noth smiled as the improvised weapon crashed and broke upon the new brute's chest, knocking the breath out of him. For his reward, he gained a mild cuss from one of Bob's other two assailants, a sure sign he had drawn the man’s attention towards himself. After the cussing came, the bar really got into full swing as his cohort went down to a knee and out of the fight.

The new opponent charged with a yell. Thoroughly enjoying himself to the fullest, Noth smiled wildly as the man threw a right hook in his direction. As he raised him arm to block and counter, he taunted the bastard. "Hey didn't you ever learn some manners?!?!” He followed his words with a tight fist, socking the man a stout blow across the right temple as he grunted with the punch.

The pitiful wretch staggered a little, shaking his head much like Noth had done earlier when the sailor had grabbled him.

With his opponent staggering on his feet, Noth reached his hands forward and around the man's neck to the grab a fistful of hair as he stepped sideways, using his body weight to lever the man's head down into the nearest tabletop. With every blow of the man's head upon the table he punctuated his sentences. "Didn't. Your. Mother. Ever. Teach. You. Not to. Pick on. The. Little People." At the final blow he released the now unconscious man and straightened himself up to catch his breath for a moment. His brief respite was interrupted by the man's alcohol blinded cohort, who had regained his wind and bridged the distance to kick him in the stomach. Noth flew backwards, fighting the darkness that pain brought before his eyes as he skidded towards (and possibly into) where Bob and the sailor were. Sputtering for breath the rogue saw stars in his eyes as his newest assailant began stalking towards them both.

[Bob Barton]

Bob was too busy watching the sheer carnage on the floor when Antar's foot smashed into the sailors face to bother getting himself up. It was surprising that the sailor had not died yet. What the hell was Bob doing here? "Staying alive." and thumbed behind towards the group chasing him. What kind of help could Antar want from Bob? Before he could even ask, that wicked bastard had lifted Bob and threw him in one swift motion.

"AAAAAAAAAA....." Bob screamed as he was flying in the air. Instinctively he started flapping his arms like wings thinking it would help him fly, not like it would do him any good. The sailor who thought he could finally get back on his feet and the fight had another thing coming. The screaming missle crashed on the sailor's chest headfirst, and the force which could no longer travel forward started going up. As the sailor slumped to the floor in pain again, Bob's legs started to go up and flipped the midget with his going head up and feet going down. Somehow or another with sheer stupid luck and misapplied physics, Bob's bottom landed on the sailor's soft chest. Soft for Bob, not the sailor because when that happened the sailor let out a loud grunt with Bob sitting on top of him looking dumbfounded.

The crowd surrounding the brawl fell silent, as dumbfounded as Bob. A moment later they let out a cheer and continued with their merrymaking. They did not care who won or who lost as long as they got to see an interesting fight in the end. The yell coming from behind him marked Antar "fulfilling" the end of his offer. A little enraged by his mistreatment, Bob unleashed the scary power of midget rage on the only other outlet available to him. The fallen and possibly unconscious sailor. He went forward to the sailor's head, hopping on his arse with each landing getting another grunt from the sailor.

The more grunts from the sailor the more cheers were heard. The people in Sunberth loved their violence, but you can get that from any establishment with drunks as well. Bob loved the cheers as well. That coupled with his rage made his hands heavier. Now sitting on the border of the sailors chest and throat, Bob unleashed his rage. Lifting up a fist, Bob brought it down to the sailors face with all his anger. Lifting the other, he brought it down at the other cheek with all the cheers. He repeated the punching another few times until the sailors cheeks puffed up and Bob's hands became sore. "Stupid asshole mistreating other people!"

Damned sailors and their stupid iron constitution. The sailor suddenly opened his eyes and said "Thats right landlubber!" and pushed himself on the floor to get up. Apparently Bob is nothing but weak. His punches having no effect but to bring the man back to consciousness to protect his body like any other living person. Once his body started to incline, Bob slid down and fell to the floor where he scuttled to get up again. Stepping back away from the sailor his back bumped into another person, probably the same wicked person who threw him around. But Bob had no time to wonder about that with his attention all on the sailor. At least all of those shots to the head were not wasted. The man was wobbling from head to toe, feet moving around unable to get any proper footing. Maybe another blow or two might bring him down...

[Zarek]

Zarek observed his surroundings, as he continued to walk steadily down the streets of Sunberth. Sunberth was a Dangerous place, filled with mugging, killing, thieves, and for few…opportunity. For this very reason, one should always try to keep an eye out. For they never know when someone or something could go horribly wrong. But as Zarek made his way towards The Pig’s Foot Tavern, it was VERY obvious that SOMETHING was going on. From afar you could see a crowd of people circle around the entrance, shouts and screams could be heard all the way down the street. This peaked Zareks curiosity as he always loved a little bit of action in his day to day life. He made his way down the street as he pushed his way through the crowd. The entrance was thick with people, all yelling and cheering at whatever was happening inside. Zarek tried to push his way through, just too be greeted by another shove back. “ Wooooo! Yea, kick his nose! Kick his nose!” People shouted, at this point, Zarek’s curiosity reached a new peak. He just HAD to know what was happening inside. So this time, he carefully stepped between the cracks of people that opened as they moved about. Course, he would also shove his way through as well for he wasn’t the smallest man in the world. Finally, he had made his way to the entrance. As he stood there, he took in a deep breath, as he inhaled through is nostrals. Oooh, Nothing like the smell of blood and shykety ale all mixed together on this rotting wooden floor. He thought as a little smirk made its way across his face. He stepped into the Establishment to instantly be greeted by even louder roars of cheers and laughter. All the men were up and out of their seats as they crowded around in a circle. HAHAHA! Look at that guy go, Yea you wale on him! Oh Petch! Ten Silvers, I bet ten silvers on the silver haired!! Shouting of bets and cheer’s echoed around the entire tavern. Baffled and just dying to know what exactly was happening, Zarek barged his way through the crowd. As he pushed and shoved, he finally made it inside of the circle. He looked up to instantly be greeted by little man flapping his arms as he flew through the air, crashing head first into someone who could easily be double his side. Utterly baffled and confused, Zarek couldn’t help but burst out into laughter by such a sight. What in the name of Ionu was that! Zarek continued to laugh as he stepped forward a few more steps. A sudden crash was heard as he looked up ahead, to see another man with white hair running towards another group of brutish looking fellows. One of the men fell to his knee as he clenched his chest, pieces of broken plate laid on the ground around him. In that instant, two other people cursed as they ran towards the white haired man. Zarek continued to watch as the man smirked at his new advisories, his is eyes wide and filled with pure enjoyment. Zarek than turned his attention back over to the midget, as he heard laughter come from his right. A humorist site it was to behold, as the midget now sat on top of the giant man and continued to wale on the sailors face. With every punch he did, he would shout at the sailor. Till the midget suddenly fell silent, a deep voice croaked up from the sailor who was sprawled on the ground. Blood gushed from his nose and his head, giving him quite the repulsive look. Hat’s righe Landlubber! he continued to say, the words slurded out of his mouth as he couldn’t speak properly for he was missing his two front teeth…and many more. He began to lift his torso as if it were being raised from his shoulders. The midget rolled off of his torso and began to scurry backwards as he tried to distance himself from the angered sailor who staggered back and forth as he stood up. The midget backed right up to Zarek and onto his leg. Zarek let out another loud laugh as the situation just seemed to become more and more amusing. His hands shook with excitement as the adrenalin rushed through his veins. An arrogant smirk spread across his face as he stared down the sailor Need some help there little fella? he said as he chuckled to himself. Without waiting for a response he stepped forward to the staggered man. Hahaha! Oye, sailor! I’m impressed, you’re as strong as an Ox. Hell I’d even go as far to say that you’re almost as intelligent as one too. Zarek bantered at the man, as he pushed him on by waving his fist, edging him to come at him. The brute of a sailor than charged towards Zarek, he couldn’t even fully comprehend the words just said to him as his head still spun from the previous hits. But by this point, anything he heard, he would take as an insult. Zarek placed the left side of his body towards the large man. His left arm tucked into his left side and his right arm fell across his stomach. He stood ready as the man continued to charge, The Sailor was only a few seconds away, with his arm stretched out and in a fist. Zarek then began to rotate his body as his right heel left the ground and spun on his big toe. The rotation fallowed through with his leg, than to his waist, than his entire torso fallowed to. The momentum continued through his shoulder as he stretched out his right arm, twisting it too as he fallowed through the punch. All of these movements came together in under a second as his fist connected to the sailors gut, causing him to hunch over in pain. Right after Zarek felt the satisfying sensation of his fist digging into his opponent, he quickly began to twist his body with all his weight on his left leg. His arm came in low as he twisted his left side to face his opponent once more. But this time all of his power went into his left hand as it snapped upward. It bashed into the sailors chin, causing his head to fly upward. Finally, after so much punishment from both the midget and the white haired guy, He fell unconscious. His knees crashed to the ground as he groaned, then finally he fell flat on his face. Before Zarek had time to turn around to check on his surroundings a loud crash was heard from right behind him. He spun around as fast as he could to see what had suddenly transpired behind him. The white haired man laid there on the ground in a dazed state. Zarek looked up to see a man lower his leg after just kicking the other guy. His fists ached as he wanted to continue fighting, but he was also curious to see this fight continue. Zarek quickly grabbed onto the man who was sprawled on the ground after being kicked, and pulled him to his feet. His head bobbled about as he was still dazed from the impact of the previous hit. Oye, Need some help?