Closed Fight! Fight! Fight!

[Alea Davenport]

51 Winter, 513

It had taken a great deal of begging, and agonizingly good behavior, but Valerius had finally granted his permission for Alea to see the performing dance group. Granted, she could easily have evaded his watch and ditched watching the shop to go see it anyway, but that would have unfortunate consequences. It wasn't that she was afraid of the whips or anything, though in general she was opposed to Unequal Opportunity to Inflict Pain. (If you want to hurt something, it should be able to hurt you back; that's just polite. Unless it's trying to kill you, then you can do whatever you want to make it stop.) But Alea was trying something new. She had tried rebelliousness and violence in her past, and they had left her rather alone and friendless. She wanted to see if being cooperative worked any better for her.

So far, things were looking good. She was one among a huge crowd of people, but she had managed to elbow herself forward, and slip her tiny frame between the cracks left by taller people. She was still stuck behind a row of Ebonstryfe, since nobody wanted to elbow their way past the fierce guards, but it was still a position where she could get a pretty decent glimpse of the dancers, and they were a marvel to watch. She had no idea the human form could look so much like art, but when it moved so fluidly and with such precision... something about it was just inexplicably beautiful.

Alea did not immediately look behind her when she heard the shouts, too intent on enjoying her hard-earned day off. (She did not fully appreciate how lucky she was as a slave to have a master so soft she could talk him into giving her a day off.) But she could not long ignore the familiar sound of conflict. Her heart began to race, the anticipation of violence causing her body to react before she consciously acknowledged the massive brawl forming behind her. It wasn't until she felt the corner of her lip curl up in a rather feral grin that she realized what was happening behind her.

Until that moment she hadn't realized how stressful it was being nice all the time, and how much she really needed to blow off some steam. She couldn't fight at home without facing serious consequences, but here, in an anonymous brawl where everyone was fighting? She obviously had to defend herself! In fact, she needed to defend herself so much that she turned away from the performance and crept back through the crowd--many of whom were plenty eager to move forward to take her place--toward the sounds of violence.

She knew she'd found it when a man stumbled into her, knocked over from behind for the crime of being in a brawler's way. Alea, more than happy to join the game, put on her best angry/offended face and gave the man a big shove back into the thick of the fighting. Feeling slightly bad about that, she dove after him to defend him from the vengeance of people who had lost their reason to the bloodlust. She dodged clumsy swings and took quick, opportunistic jabs at the exposed sides of fighters who weren't paying her too much attention. At first, those fighters assumed that it was someone else hitting them, but before long they caught on that she was indeed attacking them.

She avoided the first few punches, most of which went over her head, enjoying this rather rougher form of "dance" not so different in its way from the one they had all come to watch. Then the inevitable happened, and she caught a good kick in the stomach, which sent her back several feet. She fell to the ground, temporarily unable to breathe. There were stomping feet all around her, and she quickly formed fists to protect her fingers, curled into a ball to make herself a smaller target, and moved her arms to protect her head while she tried to remember how lungs worked.

[Lessomm]

Humming quietly too himself, the young man turned a corner and walked onto the square. He stopped in mid step as he almost ran into a group of people standing there. The metal gauntlets dangling from his belt clanged together with the familiar sound of steel on steel as he came to his sudden stop. The carefully stacked groceries balanced on his arms as he stretched his neck, trying to look over the crowd to see what was happening. From where he was standing it seemed like some show was being done near the back of the square. And from the ocean of heads between him and the stage it was obvious they were very popular, which was nice for them, but not so nice for the Eypharian. All these onlookers stood between him and the quiet of his room in one of the NHC buildings. Carefully, the young man started making his way through the crowd, trying to find the path of least resistance through the crowd. He apologized over and over again as he worked his way deeper into the crowd, usin ghis elbows to keep people away, all the while balancing his shoppings on his two arms. He bumped a little too hard against someone's back and they stumbled forward into another person. Lessomm apologized and continued on. Behind him he heard some arguing between the men but he didn't look back. Then they turned to shouting and he saw heads turning to see what was going on. Curious as to what was happening, Lessomm turned to look as well only to see the big frame of a man right in front of him, his arms wailing just before he crashed head first into Lessomm's groceries. For a moment, Lessomm wasn't aware of where he was and he looked around through the forest of legs around him. Looking up he saw a few people staring down at him. Nobody seemed intent on helping him so the Eypharian pushed himself up, the steel gauntlets clanging together as they dangled from his belt. He found his groceries spread out over the stones of the square, most of them useless now. Behind him the shouting continued, louder and louder. With two hands, the Eypharian dusted himself off. Just as he was about to finish, someone crashed into his back and pushed Lessomm forward, almost making him lose his balance once more. He managed, with some unwilling stability from a spectators arm he had grabbed, to remain upright and turned towards the man that had crashed into him. He was lying on the floor with a split lip and what looked like a broken nose. The blood was seeping out all over the ground and over Lessomm's carefully selected and expensively paid for groceries. Lessomm didn't have much time to be upset over this as the sounds were spreading even more around him and people were either moving away from the center of it or were heading for it, pushing at each other to see or to get in there. From behind him, people pushed him forward and, unwillingly, the butler found himself crashing into another person. Before he could recover and apologize he felt two hands grabbing the front of his shirt and he stared into anger filled eyes. Not one to provoke violence or to participate in it, Lessomm could and would not let the man handle him as such. His own hands moved up and grabbed the wrists of his attacker. He hooked his fingers around the man's thumbs and twisted outward with both hands, freeing himself from the man's grasp. With a push, he created distance between him and his attacker. Then the attacker was gone, swept up in some part of the chaos around him. From his right another Ravokian decided that Lessomm was as good a target as any and lunged a fist towards his face. The Eypharian stepped back, dodging the blow but bumping into someone behind him. Before he could turn and do anything he felt a blow to the side of his head and staggered forward where his second attacker caught him with another punch to the side of his face, dropping Lessomm to his knees on the floor, trying to stop his head from spinning so much. The point of contact on his cheek burned from the impact. From deep below his being, a silent roar came bubbling up to the surface and the Eypharian moved his two hands to his belt, slipping them into the gauntlets hanging there. When a random foot suddenly moved towards his face, his steel covered hands moved forward and caught the attack. He could feel his arms bend under the force of impact, the shock moving up to his shoulders, shaking his arms. He held onto the leg with one hand and lashed out with the other, planting it on the inside of the man's upper leg. As the target of his attack crumpled down on the ground, Lessomm stood up and relished in the rush of battle that had started pumping through his body. He brought up his left fist next to his ear and blocked a wild swing of another brawler and got ready to dish out a few seasons of pent up frustrations and anger.

[Sevris]

It seemed that Sevris was never really made for social events. Him and few of his slaves and Apprentices went to see the performance. He was notorious for being harsher than usual to those under him. But he was beginning to change his ways, sort of. His blonde haired slave was beautiful beyond normal standards and he always gave her special permission if she asked the way he wanted. She did certainly just that, and even convinced him to bring some of his men as security detail. Unarmored but still armed with his Longsword, The Paladin went to see the performance. Sporting his black and gold silk attire he was looking quite expensive. And against his better nature he attended anyways, however some of the citizens recognized him immediately. Lazarin's were always feared and respected. The reputation Sevris had already created as the 'The Shade' was also relevant. They minded their business as they watched the performance. All of a sudden there was a bustling in the crowds around them, unbeknownst to him there was an argument brewing. Uncoordinated but there was fight starting and it was spreading like wildfire towards them. The crowd was smart to avoid the group of Ebonstryfe personnel. Except for the ones already filled with mead and looking for a reason to fight. Sevris watched as the pushing became punches and a full scale brawl erupted around them. He looked to his guards and said, "Get this place under control, someone go get Commander Ise and get a unit down here." He shook his head, as this was supposed to be a day off. But duty calls. Seeing the crowd move around as groups formed that were tearing at one another. Chaos, he rather liked it but this was not the place for it. Something caught his eyes however, a figured crouched on the ground with men fighting one another threatening to get trampled. After someone moved out the way he could see that it was a young human female. Maybe even younger than he was. He acted swiftly and covered the distance between them. A man hovered over here possibly the one attacking her. He dashed forward and drove his knee directly into his face. He could feel the cartilage disappear as he broke his nose. He flew backwards and knocked an entire group fighting to the ground. Sevris cleared some space for the girl to get up. He held a hand out. To Alea he said, "Need a hand?."

[Alea Davenport]

By this time, Alea's breath had come back, and while she'd have a stomach ache for a while, it wouldn't be holding her back in the fight. She looked up in some disappointment as the fighting receded around her. The person to blame for this revealed himself as a tall, well-dressed man. Alea would never be allowed to wear the sort of clothes he had on; they looked fragile enough that they'd get torn up in this kind of scuffle... the kind that Alea got into whenever she got the chance.

With a sneer of disdain, she pushed herself to her feet. "I don't need your help, rich boy," she spat, before scarpering off toward a part of the fight that was still going on. She was small and quick enough to easily dodge guards that did not yet realize she was part of the trouble.

Her getaway seemed pretty clean, until she stepped on something round and fell over again. Rubbing her sore behind, she looked around for the offending object, and found a half-crushed onion. Actually, the whole ground in this area seemed littered with fresh-but-severely-damaged produce. Grinning, she picked up the onion and hurled it into the fray, feeling a small moment of gleeful triumph as it hit someone in the head. She quickly scurried to another piece of food, this time lifting a tomato and hurling it in the same direction. This one didn't fly as far, and she winced as it plopped rather anti-climatically one someone's rump.

[Lessomm]

The Eypharian stepped back and pushed against the people he bumped into. He needed space to move about and keep himself from further harm. But, as is the nature of a brawl, people didn't enjoy being pushed around and while trying to look for his current opponent's attack, the guy behind him grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him around. His right hand moved up and grabbed the wrist as he spun to his right, pulling the hand down. A rather big build man got pulled in front of Lessomm against his will as he made an attempt not to have his arm broken. His previous opponent, not caring or not seeing the human shield, entered with a quick left and right onto the human shield and stepped back out of range. With a kick of his boot, Lessomm pushed the forward, crashing him into the boxer. As he readied himself to finish both men off, something hard hit him on the top of his head and bounced up again before landing in front of him on the ground. At first glance it seemed to be a very round rock but closer inspection, which was a mistake, showed him it was an onion. The next thing he saw was an overeager person trying to knee him in the face. In his eagerness, the man overstepped and his knee landed against Lessomm's chest, pushing the air of him as he shot up from the impact, staggering back. Someone was throwing around Lessomm's groceries and he was about to go and find out. A punch hit him square on the shoulder as he ducked left and brought up a steel uppercut to the man's chin, flooring him. Lessomm turned around and peered through the forest of people creating chaos and personal injuries all around. There, two pockets of brawlers away, he saw a tomato rising out of nowhere and plopping back down a little further ahead. Another bit of his hard earned lunch flying through the air. With a clear purpose, Lessomm shouldered through the fighting, blocking a few feeble attempts at punches or kicks coming his way and handed out two punches himself. Before his steel fists the would be opponents quickly fell or backed off. And there she was, the lunch throwing cur. For a moment he was heading straight for her. He didn't bother yelling, the shouting and the cries would drown out any words spoken or yelled. Out of seemingly nowhere, a man stood between him and his target. He had completely overlooked him. His first, adrenaline boosted, reaction was to lash out, floor the man and get on with it. It wasn't until he saw the large blade on the man's back that he halted himself. How was that even fair? Bringing a sword to a brawl? As fair as bringing steel gauntlets to a street brawl Lessomm thought to himself. With his two arms half raised, Lessomm approached the man, making sure not to seem too threatening. He left the decision up to the man. Somehow, the man seemed familiar. he gave a single glance past the warrior to the lunch throwing girl to see if she was still at it and to make some attempt at counting the Mizas she would have to pay him back.

[Sevris]

Sevris had been attempting to keep the peace. But it seemed that so many were busy punching each other in the face. And even the girl whom he thought was being overpowered gave him a nasty remark, "I don't need your help, rich boy." The comment caught him off guard completely. A sudden flashback to his ridiculous house he shared with his old slave Velvet. Now he returned to a picture of his lavish home exquisitely built to his wants and needs. He might be rich now, but he figured he earned it. His black and gold silk outfit probably didn't help either. He yelled after her, "You have me confused with Nitrozan!" His dealings with the Nitrozan's had always been pleasant but their children fit the description of a "rich boy". Suddenly someone approached him from his peripherals. A man with gauntlets...In a street brawl?...was walking towards him. His hands held high in a sign of no hostile treatment. However Sevris trusted no one now. After his assassination of Ansel, betrayal was imminent around him. Or he was being paranoid. He unsheathed his weapon and held it outstretched pointing at the approaching man. It seemed that the people noticed his sword and was scrambling away from him. A brawl wasn't worth dying for. Skeptical Sevris said to Lessom, "Hope your not up to anything tricky."

[Alea Davenport]

Alea heard his parting remark and barked out a laugh. It was certainly likely that she was taking out some of her frustration with the Nitrozians on him, and if he was willing to mock them, maybe she could see her way clear to liking him after all. Maybe she would have to test him, see just how good a sport he could be.

She kept and eye and ear on the silk-dressed man with the longsword, while keeping herself at a safe distance. She stayed relatively low to the ground, to make it harder for a stray fighter to knock her over. She tried to be aware of the fighting around her and duck and weave around it, which was easier now that most of the less violently-inclined had vacated the area. She gathered up a couple more formerly-edible projectiles, thinking that this was very like the snow-ball fights she'd had in Avanthal, but perhaps smellier and less cold.

She heard the sword-wielder make the comment about trickiness and almost thought he was talking about her. But when she looked, he had his sword pointed at someone she'd hit in the head with an onion earlier. Well, that didn't seem very sporting. She hefted a fruit and lobbed it straight at him, aiming for the sword-wielder's back.

Before she could look to see if it hit, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, a brawling pair coming toward her at an alarming pace. With so little time to think, she merely dropped to her knees and bent as low as she could. One man backed into her and tripped over her, bruising her side a bit but not causing any real harm. Unfortunately, the other man did not expect this development, and he kept moving forward, falling on top of Alea when his legs got tangled up in the other's flailing.

Alea tried to shove the men off, but she was very small, and they were quite heavy. She did not have the strength to move them. It was all she could to to stay motionless and keep them from crushing her while she waited for them to get up. Luckily, her turtle-like position kept her airways from being constricted, and even though she couldn't move, she could at least still breath.

[Lessomm]

As the sword was drawn on him, Lessomm tensed for a moment before flexing his fingers in his gauntlets, relaxing his posture. He was about to respond to the man in the black and gold outfit when he saw another piece of his hard earned lunch soar through the air. It drew his attention away from the man. As he focused on the girl throwing away his hard earned Mizas he saw that around the three of them an open space had formed. His eyes locked on the girl and he was about to rebuke her for throwing his stuff when two men suddenly burst out and got tackled by the girl, creating a pile of humans. Giving the swordsman a wide berth, Lessomm tried to move past him and towards the pile of humans, intent on pulling the girl out and demanding his fruit and money back. Or give her a steel gloved spanking if she couldn't. That would teach her to throw other people's belonging around. He grasped for a leg sticking out and pushed it aside before reaching in and making an attempt at pulling the girl out of the heap. His success, however, was not up to his grabbing skills as he got interrupted by a thundered punch on the side of his face, knocking him over the legs sticking out of the human pile and brought him tumbling over the ground. As he got back to his feet, his head spinning and the blood trickling down from his split lip and dripping down his chin, he found himself standing in front of a large, muscled man. At least for a moment until the man threw his elbow into Lessomm's chest and tackled him down to the ground. Lessomm managed to keep himself upright but he was trying to catch his breath as the man's knee hit him on the hip. Locking his two fists together he slammed them down on the man's back, causing him to grunt and slump to the ground. A quick brush over his lips showed his red blood on the steel fingertips. For a moment, Lessomm found himself wondering how much blood he had drawn himself so far. The next thing he wondered was why he was lying on the ground with an explosion in his head. He hadn't seen the man approach him with a piece of wood, using it as a club as he smacked it into Lessomm's back, knocking him down to the ground and dazing him even more. The impact of his fall caused him to bounce of the stones a little before he remained on the ground, trying to catch his breath and his bearings.

[Sevris]

OOCSorry, don't have computer anymore. Can only try and post at work. Sevris highly paranoid on this part but the Eypharian was not an enemy of his. He carefully avoided Sevris's longsword and continued on his way. Perhaps he shouldn't whip his blade out at people so suddenly. Perhaps... However as he was about to move on and breakup the crowds, he could see clearly the same person whom he had ran into before, being pummeled. There was an angry rioter with a wooden weapon. The Paladin's eyes narrowed as he readied his sword, he ran towards him. As the man poised forward for another attack at his grounded foe. Sevris stepped in between them and swung his mighty blade. The blade connected with the blunt wooden weapon. It cut through as if it were made of butter. The man looked at his stump of a weapon in shock. Sevris did not waste a second before he sent the hilt of the weapon crashing into his face. He screamed and clutched his face. Staggering backwards Sevris sent a power side kick into his abdomen. He saw spit splutter from the mans face as he tried to cry out but the air had been taken from him. He crumpled to the ground and was knocked out. He looked towards the Eypharian. "Stand your guard. Eypharian." "Sevris we need you help!" An Apprentice yelled from across the way as reinforcements arrived. It seemed they would have some time quieting the citizens.

[Theur]

The city of Ravok was a beautiful place but Theur kept his eyes downcast, choosing instead to let his feet take him, his mind obviously elsewhere. Thoughts of leaving the Southern Trading Post festered within his mind and for days on end that was all he could think of. Thoughts of regret and self-pity; thoughts about security and the change of weather; thoughts on finance, survival and all other things pestered in Theur like a plague. As these thoughts filled every crack and crevice of Theur’s mind, he simply kept his head down; watched as his feet took step after step. The boy’s path had become methodical the past couple of days. He took a left every other corner; whenever he found himself on a bridge he would cross it, turning right by the time the boy reached the other side. He would continue to wander until his feet were pins. If he got hungry, Theur would buy himself a potato that is, if he ever reached the markets of Ravok. Today was a little different than usual. Noises human noises, obnoxious, loud human noises filled the air. For once Theur raised his head curious, the noises came from the next corner further out, almost drawn to it. His feet followed suit rounding the corner in less than a chime. The sight before him the boy could not believe; these people were looking for blood. The spectacle should have deterred young Theur, he knew better; this was no Sunberth. Ravok’s guards would have come and then it would all be over, probably with sword no less and yet, Theur moved forward. Shouts cries and curses filled the boy with butterflies and giddy delight; he moved faster, his heart picking pace. Nearer now only the backs of a few people stood in his way. The boy knew that if he waited, eventually they would become part of the violence but Theur wanted in now. His hands squeezed themselves in between two men, intent to push them aside; impossible to the minds of many but to Theur a feasible plan. Just as the boy heaved a glancing blow was struck, grazing Theur’s arm and hitting one of the men. Suddenly a body followed; his arm in its wake. The impact forced Theur to spin saving his arm from further harm but also to fall. Theur fell hard, fast and wrong, it knocked the wind out of him. Throbbing and sharp pains roared through him. As he stood to stand, a knee crashed into him. Hardly any force and yet it dug itself into Theur; he fell down again, the man too. Again the boy stood to stand when he felt two powerful grips on his arms suddenly he was airborne. Bodies crashed, a wave of pain followed but nothing broken, the bodies acting as a cushion of sorts; the boy could still fight. Again Theur was lifted then thrown crashing into more bodies unknowingly moving deeper and deeper into the heart of it all. For the third time those same hands came unto Theur; one hand missed. His assailant off-balance crashed into Theur; heads colliding. A shot of red filled that boy’s eyes as it focused on his assainlant. A young man barely seventeen pampered yet strong; Theur had dark plans. The first to rise was his assailant Theur followed shortly after, darting towards his assailant’s manhood. A fist crashed into something soft, the man cursing as he fell to his knees. Without losing beat Theur’s hands crashed into his assailant’s ears making a loud slapping noise. Then his knee went up coming down hard from the side. A shot of pain coursed through him; a good pain. Quickly Theur turned and ran. Sloppy moves won the day but it filled Theur only with disgust. He knew that he could have hit faster, harder but somehow he didn’t; couldn't. He lacked power; his body wasn't what it used to be and his assailant would be on him sooner or later.Theur picked up his pace. Jumping over bodies and dodging fighters and blows until the distance between him and his assailant was good (though some produce did warrant a detour or two). That’s when he heard a crash. His head snapped to where he thought the sound came from and saw a man strangely familiar falling; Lessomm. Theur was at full sprint now rushing towards that familiar face. His dodges became reckless barely managing to dodge at all whilst some blows found their marks one way or another. Still those blows were glancing blows; he still had his instincts, not so much the body. Closer now he could see that what brought that man down was another holding a piece of wood; Theur focused on the man with wood as a weapon. It wasn’t long until Theur was right behind the man, when he fell and a new sight drew cold sweat from the boy; the Ebonstryfe. It was only one man but he wore the black and held a sword. Somehow it was cheating bringing a sword to a brawl but then again Theur valued his life. The other fighters avoided the man but Theur could not; he froze. All he could do was stand and stare ahead. The lone Ebonstryfe turned his head toward Lessomm and began to speak. The words were not for Theur but it still entered him, breaking him from his trance; reminding the boy where he was and why. The boy’s eyes began to focus and the first thing he saw were where all men grow weak and it belonged to the lone Ebonstryfe; manhood. A white rage erupted in him Just as the man finished his speech Theur began to move. His leg moved forward, his back leg pushing and twisting; he drew power from the earth. His hips twisted, counter clockwise amplifying the power he drew for his dominant side. His shoulder extended, his elbow exploded, his fist flew. Dangerous filled Theur’s mind as his fist flew. Dangerous Dangerous Dangerous