A regular night at the Tavern (Rosaline)

[Mavors]

Mavors entered the tavern late at night. It was the tavern he usually went too when he was going to fight. Since everything going on wasn’t exactly legal, the tavern didn’t even have a name, and it was hid away so it was hard to find. The people who knew where it was were usually there frequently though, and it had gotten quite the reputation as word of mouth of the establishment had spread around. The fights usually never started before midnight anyway, but there was still a couple of hours for him to kill before it was time for him to have tonight's brawl. As he opened the wooden door he was hit by the smell of ale and the sound of quite a large crowd. Just as Rocco used to, Mavors still gathered quite a crowd for his fights. Most of the people was just hoping he would lose his temper and go into a fit of rage, which they had seen him do before. This rarely happened anymore though, and the chance that he would appease the crowd tonight was slim. As he moved through the crowd, people who recognised him cheered as he made his way toward the bar. When he finally made it there the barman nodded at him. “Still a couple of hours before your fight, you want the usual i assume?”, he asked as he started to pour up a gallon of ale into a pitcher. Mavors grunted in agreement as the barman put the filled pitcher and an empty glass in front of him. Mavors slowly poured up a mug from the pitcher and swallowed it down quickly before refilling his glass, this time taking his time with drinking it. It was far from the first ale he had tonight, he had already drank half a gallon of ale at home before he left home. But after drinking as much as he did, it barely affected his senses anymore, except that it made him calmer. He scanned the room but couldn’t find his opponent yet, not surprising as most people showed up just before their fight and not a couple of hours earlier. He knew who his opponent was, an Akalak he had fought before. He was a couple of inches taller than Mavors and a lot stronger. He had longer reach and was better at wrestling on the ground than Mavors was. The only thing Mavors had on him was that he was faster. A couple of years ago, Mavors would’ve had him down on the floor, crying in pain within a minute. Now, he was just as likely to lose as to win. As he finished up his second mug of ale and started to pour himself another one, he scanned the room for something else to do while he waited for his fight. Maybe he could find a game of cards or dice going on somewhere, or maybe someone to talk too, to make his dull night at least a little more interesting.