A Hopefully Unusual Evening (Mok, Antar, Bob)

[Antar]

Antar of all things, started clapping. Loudly as he laughed towards one of the cretins responsible for a bit of ruckus. Gesturing confidently towards the closest man of the brawling group, Antar beckoned the opponent forwards. The rogue's sly smile taunting him all the way as he waited for the dance to begin. He had spotted what Bob had done, inimically sensing the man's slight betrayal as characteristic towards his nature but overall just shrugging it off.

There'd be payback soon... as in ... right now. "Bob, remember that bet. Well, my friend, it's coming due right about now."

With that ever present smile upon his face as he saw the first thug step in his direction Antar whirled to grab Bob by the cuff of the neck and by the belt. It was one of his favorite passtimes right now, perhaps a bar room sport if it could be called such a thing: Midget Tossing time. After all, what rogue wouldn't at least try to perfect his technique as often as possible?

The dwarfish man went flying from his hands ending up careening across the tough's table and straight into the gut of another as the first bridged the distance between them. The man's first right punch, Antar blocked with a side block, bracing his left arm at the elbow and turning it upwards in a twisting snap to deflect the blow at the man's wrist. The second left handed punch was blocked by moving the arm crosswise across his body before stepping slightly to the inside of the man's guard. Taking care to ensure the blades from his gauntlets didn't prick the man he used his forward momentum to translate the left arm blocks into an elbow smash to the bridge of his opponents nose. The sickening crunch as blood began to flow, was enough to staggger the man and Antar finished him off by bringing his right had around to grasp the neck in time to yank the thug back into a devastating knee to the stomach before he stepped back.

The man crumpled to the ground, and Noth smiled as he turned towards the next menacing figure approaching, this one with a mug of ale head high to smash into his head. A quick righ sided snap kick to the groin, was enough to give his new opponent pause. Noth tried to follow up on the advantage long enough to throw a punch of his own towards the man's face, but it was surprisingly blocked with a raised arm. This one was a little better then the last guy and the brute backed off a little to toss the mug at his face.

A raised arm interceded, and the clay smashed against the cold iron of his guantlets splashing the contents of it's drink over his chest as small bits of shrapnel scattered, one splinter cutting him slightly on the cheek as the tepid mixture burned his eyes. He staggered back in pain as the man charged, if anyone had ever had alcohol in their eyes, you'd know it burns worse then any form of antiseptic on a cut. And the mere fact was enough to make him angry as the man crashed into his gut, bowling him over to the ground as he instinctively covered his face from the other man's blows as the pair began to roll on the ground in a whirling dervish of elbows, knees, punches and kicks.

[Bob Barton]

It happened...again! Friends don't push friends around and tossing? It was just like a vertical toss. This had better not be a common practice with Antar. "But the game is abandoneddddd" he managed to cry out before being tossed. In the air there was the same feeling again which was pretty good and nauseating. Bob had learnt from the first time just how he might land on the man and has been thinking through how he can prepare for the next time. Not that he wanted to but luckily he did.

Bob flew like Superbob! Whole body straight forward with arms extended in his flight. He didn't do this because he wanted to propel himself or increase his aerodynamics like some other people he had heard of. Some stories are just too farfetched. How can a man of steel fly? He'd be too heavy. Better question was how can a man of steel even exist unless he was armored or one of those thingies in Sahova? Enough super nonsense. It was time to get back to Bob flying.

Both of his arms slapped right into one of the hooligan's gut right after he passed over the table. Bob was able to catch a glimpse of what they were doing and was appalled. Gambling with so little? Even flying that fast Bob could see the colour of copper. Not silver, not gold, just plain old copper and these brats had the nerve of looking for trouble? Bob was going to show them just how much trouble they were going to get into and trouble was Bob pushing on his arms to get the kid down where he was able to land on something soft.

Right as Bob was going to give a punch to the one he landed on he felt a sharp kick and fell down to the side. He forgot all about the kids having friends but he had his own friends too. What the hell were they doing besides tossing him around. Since Bob could not fight, he was going to do the next best thing. He quickly rolled over to be on top of the ground and started crawling away from the tussle straight to the first table he saw.

"I am going to get you and then your friends you runt!" There was someone right behind him. Hey, Bob was not even fighting so "Why don't you go after my friends first?" Apparently not because the kid chasing him grabbed on his leg just as he was about to stand up. Rolling again to get on his back, Bob started to kick with his free leg "Let-me-go!" in between each of the words and hitting at the face since it was the only target. That got Bob's leg free as the hands went to protect the face with a howl. When Bob stood up behind the table he saw that another hooligan was coming after him besides the one under the table.

Two, two people just for Bob? He would be flattered if the results wouldn't be that sad which was Bob getting his ass kicked "Anytime now guys" he said impatiently hoping to get his friend's attention but instead it only made the one coming more excited as he said "Soon runt, soon!" That didn't help things at all so Bob did the only thing he could think of. Both hands went under the side of the table and flipped it over. That training with Xalet in the past really paid off especially now when Bob was able to at least tip the table right in front of him to fall right on top of the hooligan at the bottom and smack at the one in front of him.

The count now would be two down and many more to go. Bob taking advantage of the concealment from the table started to look around to see who else needed help. These hooligan's which picked on the weak link which was Bob are not going to get away that easily. He was going to teach them a lesson with the help of his own team. Mok already took down one, no two which were sprawling on the floor so he won't need Bob's help. Antar? He was facing off with one and it looked like it would go both ways. Well, he was on his own after tossing Bob like that.

Which only left the woman who looked like she was doing a good enough job keeping her opponents away from her. Not good enough compared to Mok and Antar who already dropped theirs. Among all the chaos, Bob snuck around the table to reach right opposite Zandelia and fortunately the ruckus in the tavern was a lot louder than his own advance. They were all also too busy with their own fights to bother about the midget who was running to another table, climb on the table. Wait what? Bob bent his arms and legs like some predatory animal ready to strike and once the hooligan stepped back close enough, he pounced right on to his back.

Bob latched on to the kid's back. In times like this it was really good to be a midget. Another person would have his legs reach the floor first before coiling his arms around his opponent's neck. Bob struggled to hold on, hooking his legs together at the front of the kid's stomach. "Just fall already!" he said as he flailed his hand at the hooligan's face hoping to try and distract him long enough for the scary scarred woman to finish the job.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia thought that she must be having some sort of a nightmare as she fought, tooth and nail, to try and hold her own against assailants that were both stronger and taller then she was. It was all she could do to keep her jaw from being broken after the initial surprise she had inflicted upon her first opponent. That first had been relatively easy, his guard down and thinking her cheap meat to be had, however now she was being taken more seriously and as such having a much more difficult time of it. She had little time to let her attention stray to the rest of the struggling, however she was aware that the barbarian was soundly thrashing his own opponents to her right. At least he’s winning she thought to herself bitterly as she blocked a stray and clumsy left-handed jab with the back of her right forearm, ducked under another right and delivered a sound axe-palmed strike to the man’s solar-plexus. As he staggered backwards a step or two she was given some breathing space, just in time to see the short man fly across the room in front of her, colliding partially with her winded attacker, sending him stumbling forwards. Her surprise was palpable, her shock stunning her to the spot for a moment or two before she growled at her own stupidity and used the serendipity of the occurrence to her advantage. She stepped forwards and smashed her knee into her opponent’s ribs, traumatizing them that much further and watching with wolf-like satisfaction as he seemed to curl up around the top of her thigh. She extricated herself and let him fall to his knees, smashing a left elbow into his jaw to finish him off. “Right, now to get out of here” she grunted to herself, turning around smoothly…and right into the path of another brute. For petching sake! she screamed inside her skull as she was forced to stumble back, blocking a left and then a right – jumping back fully as a kick came swinging towards her. It connected slightly still, clipping her side and sending her off balance and to her right now. She was done for, she knew it in that moment there, shuffling to her right and trying vainly to regain her balance. Even a she slammed hip-first into a table and at least stopped falling she knew the man would be on her in a flash – tearing at her with his hands and smashing her head into the floorboards. AS squeezed her yes shut, knowing the first blow would come at any moment, and flashed them open when it did not. She gained her footing once more and saw that the short man was around the hooligans neck!. He was vainly trying to unseat the midget, whom had wrapped himself deftly around his torso and was slapping away at the hooligan’s face. She would have laughed if the situation had not been so serious. She jumped forwards and after a step gave a flying stamp at the hooligan’s forwards knee, her heel connecting soundly with the kneecap and pushing it backwards, past the point of breaking, and with a disgusting popping sound it was sharply dislocated. With a roar of pain the man fell forwards, bending the now dislocated knee until it popped back into place again – to another scream of rage-filled pain. The hooligan hit the ground, grasping at his leg and rolling around as he tried to comprehend and deal with what Zandelia knew must have been an excruciatingly high level of pain. She drove it home with another vicious kick, this one to his genitals, just to make sure he stayed on the floor. “Thanks shorty, I owe you one” she told the man, who was even now dragging himself off the hooligan, before scanning around and seeing another hooligan rolling on the floor with one of the barbarian’s other friends. Can’t have that can we Zandelia? Need to make sure these guys win otherwise I’m on my tod she told herself as she ran toward the fracas upon the floor and smashed the tip of her boot into the short ribs of the hooligan – who up until then had had the upper hand over the barbarians comrade. It was then that disaster struck her, however, as she turned as a fist met squarely with the left side of her head, brining her to her knees to receive another clubbing hit that sent her to the floorboards. She spat out blood and tried to bring herself back together and into the fight, but she knew it may have well become too late for that.

[Antar]

A torrential flurry of elbows, punches and knees while groundfighting was what his entire world had been reduced to. A helter skelter of pain of pain and punishment that was beginning to wear on his endurance. He'd be lucky if his face wasn't bruised like a plum tomorrow morning if he lived through this fight. With drunken idiot's in the pig's foot , one never could tell when some idiot might pull a knife out of his boot. Though rumors said Merv was known to watch for that sort of thing and intervene if need be. Antar would be damned if he didn't give as good as he got though until the punk got the better hand.

Twisting like an eel Antar tried to keep his core tight and his arms up to ward off the worst of the blows by bringing his legs up to block and buck his opponent off. He managed to crook one knee up to press against the man's stomach when a helping hand came in the form of a foot, kicking his opponent off of him.

Whomever it was , he owed them.

Blinking madly to try to get the burning out of his eyes, Noth blindly nodded a thanks and came back to his feet to deliver a few kicks to the blur that was his opponent's form. His reverie of kicking and cursing ended as he felt the iron tang of blood spray in his mouth and he turned to find a figure stumbling towards him from the direction of where the kick had aimed from. It was a short figure, one he couldn't make out clearly until he got some water to flush out his eyes, but the blurry curves and lithe frame suggested it was of the woman that Mok had been flirting with.

The same woman who probably had been the one to kick the bastard off him now being punched backwards by a blog of greyish white color.

One blob was standing over the other blob which he assumed had been the one who had helped him. Seemingly threateningly lean towards the other blob of color as if it were about to kick her when she was down. Only four words came to mind as Antar considered that little scenario... 'No way in hell.'

Lunging blindly forwards the rogue wrapped one arm around the blob's neck, where the smaller blur met the larger and began to squeeze tightly, closing off the airway but not snapping the neck. Still blinded by the stinging alcohol , and blinking away the reflexive tears, Antar shouted out the two names of others who might still be able to help him deal with these ingrates. "Mok, Bob! Petch this one bastard just bit me on the arm! Knock them all out, quick!"

Another blur of grey from a nearby motion which cursed at him was enough to make him lash out one foot to the new blob's stomach. The target doubled over in a cry of pain as Antar waited for someone, anyone to help him finish off the one he was trying to make unconscious.

[Mok]

After dropping two men, Mok had gained the unwanted attention from their leader. After taking a jab to the face, the warrior suddenly settled down into his fighting stance. He needed to be calm and collective if he was going to win this fight with no injuries. No thoughts came to him mind at all. His sole reason in life at that moment was to destroy his opponent. It was this state of consciences that experienced warriors achieve after training for years.

Everything began to slow down.

Incoming hook. Move head back, then counter right hook. WAHP! A strike coming from the left. Stop. Duct. Swing again. SHWAHP!

The two fighters stopped for a single moment. Mok’s opponent was already bleeding from the left eye. The warrior was clearly unimpressed. All of the thug’s strike could be easily read and countered. Grinning the myrian spat towards the man’s face, “You piece of human trash.”

Mok came in again throwing out his left, followed by his right. Miss. WHACK!

Then the man covered and got all into Mok’s face and began to grab his head. It was time to finish it. Throwing the man off, he kicked the kid in the shin to distract him, then dropped him with two punches.

Finally, Mok had a few moments to survey what was going on. Zandelia was getting smashed by a cowardly thug. Anger over came him as he saw his new friend get dropped to the floor boards.

CRACK!

Someone had hit Mok in the back of the head with a glass bottle. A flash of white came over the warrior. Before he knew it, his face and eyes were stinging in pain. Screaming in pain, Mok tried to compose himself. Swinging wildly at any blurry object that came into his field of view was his only defense in the situation.

The next few minutes were truly hell for the discombobulated myrian.

When Antar cried out for assistance was when Mok came back to reality. Blinking furiously, Mok gained some of his vision back. The rogue had a man in a choke hold. Coming forward, the myrian hit the man twice between the eyes.

Mok’s face, hands, and chest were stained with a nasty mix of saliva, snot, vomit, and blood, “You alright Antar? I think that was all of them.” he said regaining his breath.

All the other hooligans just ran out of the bar like frightened children.

oocSorry for lagging on the post

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Bob Barton]

She owes shorty one? What a term to use on her savior but Bob will let it slide if she can "help get this loser off me!" Being heavy was one thing but being below another man was another thing entirely. Another thing which was absolutely not nice. He did save the woman even if she was not his type so according to the stories shouldn't he be with the woman instead of this "Shyke" Bob can't even tell what was going on all around him. Were they winning? "Are we winning yet?" Apparently not, Antar just screamed about someone biting his arm.

Fine, fine. Bob would like to leave Antar to get eaten after tossing him around again. It would have been better if it were the rats which got to Antar last season but like hooligans or rats, after Antar the next would be Bob. Nope, the best thing to do right now is to just get to helping Antar or running away. Depending on how things were going right now. Getting bitten on the arm could probably mean the hooligans are desperate enough to want to win so Bob is probably on the winning side. Antar might just be as lucky if they won and he did not end up with something like rabies.

Bob started rocking on his back. Push, push, push with his hands, push, push, push with his knees until the boy on top of him was finally raised up enough for him to drop him on the side. Quickly he got up but it was too late. The idiot beside him took him out for the rest of the fight. "Idiot" Bob gave a whisper and a swift kick to the deadweight's side hearing a satisfying grunt. Actually Bob should have shown some form of appreciation. After all in a way the hooligan kept him safe right until the fight was over. Maybe next time then.

But then the rest of the group were running away. Bob can't have that now could he. There was just so much they could talk about such as the price for their lives. Bob was that there was one running straight to him to get to the door but how was he going to stop him? Even if he was a teenage hooligan he was still a lot bigger than Bob. If he could not do it alone and more of his partners were still whining about their eyes then...

...A chair would have to do. Bob quickly made a grab for a chair on his side and swept it at the ground in front of him feeling the hard blow when it connected with the oncoming hooligan's legs. Then he fell. As soon as it happened, Bob spun the chair so that the front would be facing him and lifted the chair above him. Placing it right on the top of the hooligan who was now whining about his legs. "Now what am I going to do with you Mr. Man?" he asked tauntingly.

He went on to take a seat on the top of the chair so that his captive won't have a chance to escape. With his busted leg hopefully he won't be able to go against Bob's weight. "Well? Or would you like to tell Anthony instead?" Bob asked pointing to the assassin behind him. Good choice of person for a threat, bad choice in timing since he was still trying to get the burning liquid out of his eyes. Bob shook his head dismissively a little bit annoyed especially after he heard his captive giving a chuckle. "Forget about that. But if you don't tell me you will get to talk to her instead!" he offered again pointing to the scarred woman.

Today was a day full of bad choices. From coming into the bar and playing against Antar to the people he used to try and scare the kid into getting something of use. Bob got off and gestured to Mok "You know what? Since you started it, you will have the honors of ending it unless any of the others are still not satisfied. I am going to take a seat" or another seat since he just left his. Yep, the days events are affecting his mind already. Nothing was worse than losing to a novice.

[Zandelia]

The world had become a blur for Zandelia, her vision having been beaten temporarily out of her head by the large fists of the giant who had hammered several solid hits into her temple and jaw. Pain was flashing across the left side of her face and she could taste blood in her mouth where her teeth had forced the inside of her cheeks to be cut under the pressure of the blows. As she came to the conclusion that she was msot probably a dead woman now she tried to push herself up off of the ground but could not gain much height before falling limply back to the floorboards with a thud and a groan. Blood leaked across her lips and she turned her head, spitting it out of her mouth before it could slip into her stomoche and make her nauseous on top of the pain. Akajia I hope he didn't break anything she thoguht to herself hazily as she realised that the finishing blow was not going to arrive, msot probably having been stopped by one of the others. She could hear only muffled sounds at first, as her vision began to take the shape of normality once more, but she could make out the yelling of the hooligans after a few seconds that seemed like years. They were running, she discovered with a sense of brutal satisfaction, or at least those whom were still conscious were running. Those whom had been felled she was quite confident she would give a few kicks to before taking anything of value from them for their troubles. They deserved such treatment as far as she was concerned, it was only a pity they weren;t awake to be knoked out once more. Then, suddely, she was being lifted off of the floor by her elbows, the world pivoting and tilting dengerously quickly as her consciousness tried to keep up. "Bloody hell, that bastard could punch" she mumbled as she saw Mok and the man she had helped to save either side of her and holding her steady for a few seconds until she could stand on her own. When she could she nodded at their questions before delivering a vicious kick to the ribs of the nearest unconscious thug and making her way to a seat around a still intact table, where the others had already gathered - leaving Antar to go to the bar she presumed as she passed his form thre along the way. She slumped into her chair, nursing her face with her palm and trying to see if thre was anything but bruising there with gently probes that brought hisses to her lips and grimaces too as she felt waveafter wave of pain spread across her jaw in webs of fire. She gave up, accepting the ale that Antar put in front of her, before he too sat down, with an attempt at a smile which was stopped by her stiff muscles. "Remind me not to get involved in a fight with you again Mok. I'm not sure I could stand getting hit like that every day of the bloody week" she spoke out by way of an attempt at breaking the ice before guzzling greedily at her ale to try and course a numbness through her body in inebriation.

[Antar]

Cursing and muttering as he doused his eyes with a pitcher of water to cleanse the alcohol from them, Antar leaned back in his chair and slowly exhaled. The stinging sensation had lessened over time, and blinking seemed to bring the rest of the world into focuse. Eventually he ate the rest of his now luckewarm meal. Sometimes, he cast glances back in Mok's direction and sighed dramatically wondering just how many bar brawls the man was going to get him into in this tavern.

So far he'd only started one fight, and been involved in two others.

'Why the petch was it that on his days of relaxing some sort of altercation always developed further?' Shaking his head ruefully he took a glass and filled it with redberry and handed it towards Bob, "Well my friend, despite the other things of you trying to send those cretins my way, so I had to throw you, I think this day was pretty good. Care for another round of cards?"

oocSorry for the delay guys, I think we should just wrap this up about now What do you guys think?

[Mok]

Standing over Zandelia, the myrian snapped his fingers a few times. Nothing. Mok decided it was best just to stand her up and let her swimming head calm down. Slowly, without the help of Bob, Mok swung the dazed woman to her feet and helped her gain balance. Although the warrior was still blurry eyed, he noticed the bruises on his new friend’s face. Mok decided to remain quiet for the next few minutes as the rest of his company recovered from the brawl. The warrior sat deep in thought as his friends discussed what just occurred.

Mok was terribly pissed off. Why the hell would they attack an innocent person? She had nothing to do it. It was a dispute was between Mok’s boys and the hooligans. No one else should have been involved. Blinding justice burned in his mind. Anger and hatred started to consume his heart. Why was he so mad? He had started the fight. No it was because they attacked Zandelia without provocation, ‘Those disrespectful pieces of trash! I will teach them. AHHH! Damn them. Damn them. Lehx's Balls. I will teach them. It will be over soon enough – I will pay the price, but I will not count the cost. I will not count the cost. AHHH!’ .

BOOM! The powder keg exploded.

“Get up…Get the hell up!” Mok suddenly and without warning, growled at the one hooligan still downed on the floor. No response. The myrian grabbed the man by the hair and lifted him up with natural strength.

Suddenly a moment of intelligence blinked in his mind. Mok still had not identified the gang. His rage stored in the back of his heart, the myrian jumped to the floor and searched the man for any markings. There were no markings. Everything was ruined. He needed to get information from this man to know who his new opponents were. Putting his rage in the back seat, Mok’s practical side took the reins for now.

Mok turned to Antar, “We go now brother. You know why. We must do work,” then the myrian turned towards Zandelia, “find me and I will help you learn never to receive bruises upon your face again.” Finally Mok tipped his hood to bob and walked out of the empty tavern dragging the hooligan behind him.

It was pitch black outside with little light from the moon and stars. The myrian strode into the back ally.

19:30 PM
The hostage had finally awakened after several minutes of waterboarding in a disease infested latrine hole.


Sitting him upright against the wall, Mok backhanded the wretch, letting him know exactly what he wanted, “WHERE ARE THEY!!”

Sniffling the guy responded, “I don’t know anything honest I don’t!”

“Bullshit!! I don’t think I heard that correctly. Now,” the psychopath barked as he hit the man again, “WHERE ARE THEY!!”

“Damn you,” he spat back.

“Alright then, we are going to ask you a few questions. Do you want to talk to me first or my friend over there?” Mok suggested nodding over to Antar, who was standing near by. The bastard took a moment to look over the myrian and the rogue and decided quickly.

“Let me talk to that fellow over there.”

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Bob Barton]

Why was Bob here again? Righttttttt.....he wanted to see what he put in motion. Why waste your energy doing something when you can get others to do it for you, and in a better way too. This nice place Bob now found himself in watching Mok get to work. He did not know how he got here but he was glad for it. It was so disgusting that he never ever wanted to come here again. At least Mok knew what he wanted to ask for unlike Bob who just wanted some interesting information. A smile was plastered on his face when he heard the myrian use the same method he was using earlier. If you knew Antar, you will surely be very, very afraid of him.

Bob could not help himself but add to the fun. Giving a smirk to the captive he told him "there is a reason why I asked if you wanted his friend earlier in the tavern first buddy. Too bad you did not pick up on it" and the reason was that Antar is the worst sort that you want to have a "talk" with. If the hooligan was really stupid as was proven when they started the brawl earlier, then maybe he still would not pick up on Bob's little hints on what was going on for him and if that was how it was, "you're going to find out the hard way. The really hard way." There was no good cop, bad cop here but if you would call Bob something he could fit in the good-bad cop category? The one which tries to scare you in a good way maybe.

Or just mess with you just for the fun of it. "Hey, I'm his friend too. Pick me, pick me!" Bob said pulling out his cane sword. No chance of using it in the tavern earlier because everyone knows about Merv's rules. Bob was not going to use it here either, at least not in the sense that anyone would think of. He just wanted to try and pressure their captive more into thinking that the two more scarier ones are a better choice than him because "I can make quick work of that petching fool" prodding the sword on his leg. "Pretty please?" pushing the sword in harder like he was just waiting to draw blood.