Closed [Rearing Stallion] Hurricane Drunk (Orion, Rothyr, Carney)

[Naeya]

A look of delight lit up Naeya's face as she spotted Orion following close behind. She never knew what to expect when it came to men and dancing. Some seemed open to the idea, and even professed to enjoy it. Others, however, seemed partial to throwing themselves off a cliff or diving into a Zith lair before attempting to move their hips to a beat. She was pleased to see that her companions belonged to the former category (especially since rescuing someone from the Zith had a tendency to be quite tricky business). While she waited for her companion to arrive, she picked up her skirt in order to give herself more room for movement. Pastel scales were exposed on her lower legs, glinting slightly in the tavern lighting. As the music picked up, she threw her left hand out and spun giddily around. The faces of fellow tavern patrons whirled past until she stumbled to a stop in front of Orion. The room continued to spin on without her help. "Well, come on then!" Naeya said, feeling more than a little breathless. She reached out to grab hold of Orion's hand, and attempted to pull him into a dance. Before they could get very far, however, an angry shout cut through the air, soon to be followed by a loud crash. "Oh petch," she cursed. Her nails dug into Orion's arm as she looked back at their Drykas friend with dismay. She'd missed the initial hit, though she heard the awful noise of fist meeting face, so all she saw through the small crowd was blood. And Rothyr, who seemed particularly unhappy to have a newly broken nose. Not that anyone blamed him for it. The man who Rothyr had decided to pick a fight with was huge. As he, and several of the people he seemed to be with, turned back towards the Drykas, she flinched for her companion after noting the unpleasant scowl on the man's face. Humans really shouldn't be allowed to look that enormous... Naeya didn't know whether it was drink or affinity for Rothyr that made her feel as though she ought to help the Drykas. Forgetting her size in comparison to the men, she spontaneously decided to intervene - hopefully with help. "Orion." Her voice was insistent as she glanced up at her short-lived dance partner. "Orion, we've got to do something. We can't just let him pick a fight with - with that!" Her mind made up, she began to push her way towards Rothyr, praying he wouldn't do anything stupid. ...Well, stupider.

[Orion Michaels]

oocHorribly sorry for how long I took to post! Maybe we can work on a record for Mizahar's longest time shortest length thread!

Orion Orion couldn't help but feel relieved when the dancing ended abruptly. It was fair to say that some of his patient writhed in pain with more rhythm than the doctor could manage to music. The loud pop of someone being punched was more like a beautiful harp. That it was Rothyr, well, he figured they'd get involved now for sure. He let out a slight yelp of surprise as his dance partner dug her nails into his skin, pleading with him to go and aid their inebriated Drykas companion. A simple enough request, but there was one problem. Orion was drunk. That many drinks had hit him harder than he'd be likely to admit. It certainly did nothing to make him use his intelligence. A reasonable plan of attack would be to use words to diffuse the situation. Chalk it up to a simple misunderstanding, and let bygones be bygones. "Miss Lutra. You're absolutely correct," he began, a dangerous grins spreading across his face. "We can't let him pick a fight. But we can!" The doctor yelled to Rothyr as he stumbled quickly at the large man. "You go high, I'll go low!" He was committed now. Someone would have to physically restrain the young man to end his attack, because it seemed like there was no better idea. Managing a wink back to the Konti, the inebriated man forced his way through the crowd, and once he had a clear lane, lunged at the bulky man's legs, hoping that the man's giant upper body would prove to be easy to unbalance, praying to whoever was listening that Rothyr would join him on his assault. Otherwise, his doctoring skills would come in more use than he'd hoped for this evening.

[Rothyr Windbourne]

Rothyr gained his composure again, being snapped back to reality from his moment of rage, seeing Orion coming closer, not to push him away from a fight but to join him! Excitement filled his blood, he would be fighting again! One can go to war, or to battle, against faceless enemies amongst faceless allies one has never met before that engagement. Rothyr, however, had joined this man for a drink before, met him, shared words and now the man was rushing to fight by his side! Being a hunter, and a man for combat, Rothyr saw true merit in this. He was as thrilled to see Orion join him in this brawl as he was thrilled to be in a brawl in the first place.

The hunter closed in, fists balled ready for the return strikes and he swung with his left for the man's jaw, aiming his right for the man's midsection, possibly kidney or liver, before grappling to try and topple him over, hearing Orion's call that he would go low as Rothyr went high.

The man was stronger, pushing Rothyr back with the force of his weight back against the table he had been thrown against. Rothyr grabbed the man's shoulders to push him back, but the burly man reached for his neck. Rothyr blocked one hand while the other grabbed ahold. He fought all he could to loosen the grip as his breathing became faint. He managed to get out “Bend the knee,” before his breath became too faint, “Bend the knee and drop him!” as Orion drew closer. He hoped Orion would make it in time, before this brawl became a murder.

[Naeya]

OOCDon't worry, guys. We'll finish before Summer 513! In other news, I'm very sorry for the long wait! Futile. Even in her drunken haze, Naeya immediately recognized that "futile" was the most appropriate word to describe her intention of keeping Rothyr from doing something stupid. It seemed she had miscalculated her dance partner's sobriety (which was, in retrospect, unsurprising), and now she was stuck watching him stagger over to that impossibly large cretin in an effort to even out Rothyr's fight. Petching brilliant pair they were. The atmosphere in the tavern was changing. Only moments ago, it was filled with exuberance. Now? A restless fever was taking over and patrons were jostling for front row positions to the fight that had erupted. The crowd closed in around the three brawlers, and Naeya found herself being shuffled further and further back. "Oh, for shyke's sake!" she growled, setting her jaw resolutely and sticking her elbows out in a very un-Konti-like manner. There was absolutely no way she would let her two companions wreck themselves as she stood idly by. If one of them was going down, they were all going down. Tugging her skirt up with one hand so she wouldn't trip, she went to work shoving and squeezing her way through the tightly-knit group. Shove. "Excuse me, sorry!" Shove. "So sorry, didn't meant to hit you there!" Squeeze. "Oh, dear! Sorry, excuse me." Naeya was nothing if not a polite brawler. She could hear the grunts of the fight in front of her, and spotted what looked to be a choking Rothyr frantically wheezing out his last words. Without giving it a second thought, she quickly wrenched a near-empty mug from the female patron next to her and hurled it in the direction of the cretin. Her goal was to smack him violently on the side of the head. Whether or not it hit, however, would be for fate to decide An indignant yell pierced the air, and Naeya's attention was quite literally jerked away from seeing where (and who) the glass hit. It seemed the woman whose drink Naeya had stolen was not the least bit pleased. As retaliation, she had decided to take out her anger on Naeya by grabbing a solid handful of blonde hair and dragging the konti to her knees. "I was drinking that, you vagik!" Shyke.

[Orion Michaels]

Orion This had quickly gotten out of hand. Orion usually tried to think things through. Tossing himself at a man more than twice his size wasn't an occasion where that had happened. Not only that, Orion was sure he'd spend a night in the tank, and who knows, maybe a little hard labor. The knights had a funny way of ruining a good drunken time. But for now, he fought. Sloppily, without skill, but he fought. Rothyr requested he bend the man's knees as a hand was wrapped around his through. All the while, he could hear Miss Lutra kindly pushing people out of her way. What an interesting evening. Orion balled up his fist and brought it like a hammer against the back of one of the man's knees, trying to force it to buckle. To say the doctor could create much force, however, would be an inaccurate statement. The knee gave way, if just a little, but Orion quickly found himself lifted up in much the same way as his brawling partner. The blue eyed man went to swallow, to breath, but nothing would happen. Thank the gods for flying mugs. The container smashed against the man's head. While it did little to really harm him, out of reflex he released both men to protect his dome. Sputtering and coughing, Orion looked over to where the mug had come from, only to see the blond haired woman dragged to her knees. "Oh shyke. You got this Rothyr?" He asked, not taking the moment to wait and see if he really did. Stumbling over, Orion was going to save the attractive woman, and set this evening back on course. That didn't happen. At least not as intended. "Let her go!" he exclaimed, reaching out to grab a hold of Lutra's assailant. The inebriated man didn't take the woman he was rescuing into account when deciding on his action. Tripping over the Konti, Orion latched onto the angry woman's arm, dragging her to the ground on top of him. With Lutra pinned below him, and both of them below the second woman, Orion paused to take in his situation. Oh how blessed was he. "Ladies. Now isn't this much better than fighting?" Smack! The woman scurried off them both, leaving Orion rubbing a red mark on his cheek, forgetting about everything going on around him, to include the Konti beneath him, and the Drykas locked in a losing battle.

[Accolade]

Ihsan Kanaan, famed Stewart Knight for the White Company, had just finished up yet another patrol route in the Nettle District of the Third Tier. He spent days on patrol, bell looking over the District that he had been honored to except the privilege of guarding. Ihsan was stern, and had his ways about how he saw fit to handle the day to day assignments, and his men respected him for it. It was a hard job as one would imagine, but Ihsan strive to take on the task like no other.

On this particular day, Ihsan decided to take a stroll through the city. The young Stewart Knight was still dressed in his plate mail and armed with his trusty ebony-handled scimitar. He walked the streets, seemingly still on patrol, as were all Knights to a point. He gazed around the stone walls, nodding to citizens and giving fellow Knights a firm hand on the shoulder as he passed by. More chimes passed as Ihsan continued to wander, until he finally decided to make an appearance into the Rearing Stallion.

Ishan wasn't a big drinker per-say, but he did happen to find himself in the tavern a few times a season. However on this day, he found himself very surprised as he entered. A brawl had started, and the place was in a frenzy. There were tables turned up and people forming a crowd. He quickly noticed the man and woman on the floor and the battle going on between the two larger men. Ishan quickly closed the door behind him and stepped further in.

"Enough!" He said rather loudly, making sure that his voice could be heard over the roaring crowd, and reached the ears of everyone inside. With all eyes upon him, the Knight started to move again, the armor covering his tall and muscular frame clinking with each movement. His brown eyes moved about the room, taking in everyone and everything around him. "Hear me, "I'm Syliran Knight Ihsan Kanaan, 1st Regiment, Silver Quadron. I demand that someone explain what is going on here."

OOCOh my, you've been AccoPunked!

[Rothyr Windbourne]

"Shit," Rothyr said, coughing as the man released him. He was not fast enough. He couldn't defeat his enemy before the authorities showed up and now he would have to think quickly on his drunken feet to avoid getting locked up, or worse, getting into a fight with the Syliran knights. He had seen them ride about, in their shining armor and understood them to be a mighty military force, and something like peace-keepers in these parts. Maybe appealing to that sense of honour would afford him some slack?

He coughed, rubbing his neck where the man's grip had been. The vice grip had left finger-marks about his throat, and he required a moment to breath normally again. Once the spots had left his vision, he explained himself.

"This large fellow here," Rothyr said, slowly, as if he were finding the words as he went along. He stopped, looking at Orion and Lutra, trying to decide where to go next.

"This large fellow here," Rothyr continued, "Insulted the honor of my friends here." He motioned towards Orion where he lay with Lutra, "Given his rare size, I reckon he thought he could get away with it. But I stick up for my friends, I do." It wasn't the best alibi, by any means, considering he slurred and tripped over his words the entire time surely lent more to make his drunken story seem more legit.

"That's a lie!" The large fellow roared, "That's not true tin the slightest!"

Meanwhile, they awaited the knight's delegation.

[Naeya]

Had the roof just collapsed? Within mere ticks, Naeya found herself in an entirely new predicament. She was no longer kneeling on the wood in some mockery of prayer. Instead, she had been shoved face down on the worn tavern floor, arms pinned helplessly at her sides. Something, or rather, someone was crushing her from above and doing their best to cut off the air to her lungs. "What--" She let out a pained yelp as her head was dragged savagely backwards. Naeya's assailant still gripped a firm handful of blonde hair in her hand, despite having been toppled over Orion like a ragdoll. It felt as though each strand was about to be ripped from her head by a balding man, desperate for hair of his own. And yet Orion had decided it was an appropriate time to crack jokes. The absurdity of the situation struck her (or perhaps the ale was hitting her harder than she'd thought), and she burst into helpless, gasping giggles that shook the entirety of her body in spite of the burden above her. Then, a resounding slap cut through the air and Naeya found herself with a lighter weight to bare. "Enough!" Laughter faded from her lips as the tavern fell silent. The man who had entered the room was within her line of sight, and she took in the armour that covered his form. This was a particularly unique feature within the city that she'd quickly come to recognize as belonging only to the Syliran Knights. A combination of drink and decreasing availability of oxygen was making the knight look fuzzy around the edges. "Ge'off!" she wheezed at Orion as she struggled to regain control of her arms, propelling her body upwards in a demented push-up. Once she was free to move again, she rolled herself up and into a cross-legged seated position. No sense in drawing any more attention to herself than necessary by standing. And then Rothyr pointed directly at her and Orion, causing several tavern eyes to turn to the pair. Worth a try. She nodded confidently to affirm Rothyr's story in case the knight was looking in their direction as well, and then leaned closer to her blue-eyed friend. "That beast insulted us?" she whispered loudly to Orion, brow furrowing in confusion. "Do you think it was my dancing...?"