A Hopefully Unusual Evening (Mok, Antar, Bob)

by **Zandelia** on September 26th, 2011, 3:44 am

Fall 9th, AV 511 - The Pig's Foot Tavern - 17:55pm (Dusk)

Income had been slowing for Zandelia of late, the intense mistrust prevalent in Sunberth seeming to grow even more palpable to the point where she was actually considering the possibility of having to hire out in an actual position of standard employment. She vaguely suspected that her father would scorn her for such a sad state of affairs – but then he was dead and she was alive, if scarred somewhat. In the grand scheme of things she reasoned that made her more of a success, but then again she might get knifed in the night at any moment so it was a shallow margin to measure her life by.

It was her inherent distaste for having to complete an honest day’s work – or what passed for an honest day’s work in a hive of scum – that had driven her out into the evening and on the trail for seeking something, anything, that she could use or sell for a few mizas of one variety or another. At first she had followed a number of persons known for their interesting and clandestine activities, but her luck had hit a decidedly stony wall quickly there. She had tried roaming the markets too, but to little avail – merely a few snippets here and there that were common as muck and would be given to any one of the syndicates in under an hour.

Which brings me to The Pig’s Foot Tavern, a smaller gathering of lower end villainy, but still very much filled to the brim with those who might just drunkenly spill something useful she thought to herself as she cradled a dirty clay mug of what she could only presume was supposed to be ale.

“I might as well have asked for muddy water” she muttered to herself as she eyed those around her, straining her ears for any of the tell tale phrases that would be followed with contests of boastful vows of intellect and threateningly devious schemes.

She was doing her best to be nondescript, barely moving for the most part, as she was well aware that a lone woman was not exactly given the highest regard by the majority of her fellow patrons. She had tried to wedge herself into a corner in order to have her back covered at least, but instead had been forced to take a small table with two rickety chairs towards the fringe of the room. She was painfully aware of the risks, but she could hear the sound of employment calling to her and grit her teeth and continued to turn her hearing to the task at hand.

There better be something here I can use or I’ve hit a damn new low she swore to herself morosely as the smoky interior was made a little less grimy by the alcohol she drank.

Her hopes only kept falling, however, as the majority of those surrounding her either drank in stony silence – no doubt to drown their sorrows – or merely yeller boorishly and bragged about the size of their knives, what she assumed they thought was a smart innuendo perhaps. She found herself almost wishing for a fire to break out, just to give her a break from the monotony of pointless words flowing through her mind.

by **Bob Barton** on September 26th, 2011, 10:55 am

"So if you get more than them, you win. Get it Noth?" Wait what was Bob talking about again? You always win if you have more. "In the short run anyway. You win too much and they will leave" then you don't get anymore money. "So what you actually want is more money than everyone else in the end." How do you do that? "You need to know when to give them a win. Don't think of it as losing but just setting them up the kill. I am sure you know that better than I do right?" Bob asked with a grin at his assassin buddy today. Killing, stealing, swindling was all the same. All you need to do is beat your opponents.

Since the both of them did not have any actual plans for the day, Bob decided to go to the Pig's Foot. You can do anything there. Anything but what Antar normally plans which to Bob means killing, killing and more killing. One day that was all going to catch up with Antar and Bob was going to be as far away as possible from the man when that happens. They may be buddies but that does not mean Bob was going to take any risks for the man and he was pretty sure it was the same way Antar felt for Bob.

Bob waited in front of the doors of the Pig's Foot until his biddy caught up. "So what are we going to do today? Are we going to just have a few drinks, or maybe a game or two? Grabbing some money from right under some poor sod''s nose would be nice for a change right?" until today Bob still didn't know why Antar steals or kills or whatever else he does. Maybe it was from the peer pressure from living in Sunberth. "All I know is I don't really want a repeat from the last time we were here" which ended in a brawl and a certain someone tossing Bob right into the middle of it. Literally.

Either way they were going to need somewhere to take a seat in. Bob headed straight to one of the tables in the middle. Even if it was only Antar and Bob he chose one with more seats just in case there was someone else who wanted to play if Antar took the suggestion or just showing that there might be more of them would put off anyone wanting to look for trouble. Just another day at the tavern though. All the ugly misfits of Sunberth sitting around drinking themselves to a stupor or sizing each other up. "Now what?" waiting for Antar to decide what they were going to do.

by **Mok** on September 26th, 2011, 4:29 pm

Preparing for battle is one of the most rewarding experiences in this short lifetime. Sitting on his stool, Mok stared at his armor and weapons. The fire burned brightly in front of him, lighting up the tent with flickering light. Slowly and with great care, the myrian checked and inspected every last part of his equipment. No dents, no rips, no damage. Everything needed to be in perfect order for maximum effectiveness. After all, Lhex had no problem in resting the fate of a man solely on one single metal link in a piece. Mok could see it now; a bolt guided by the cruel hands of fate striking the one weak point in the armor. No, if Lhex wanted to play with him he would have to be much crueler.

Mok slipped on his padded under armor and tightened the strings. Next, the chain mail would go on. After several minutes of struggling, Mok finally got the cursed piece on. Now, the myrian tightened his gladius to his left hip. Still sitting on the stool, Mok then tightened his grieves and swung his shadowsilk cloak on. Finally, Mok slipped on his gauntlets. He had no use for the brigandine tonight.

Preparation was complete. Everything was snug and tight. Shivers ran down Mok’s spine as he thought about what was to come. Tonight blood would be shed and the myrian was perfectly confident that it would not be his. This made Mok feel amazing. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins. Standing up, the half-blood squeezed his sword grip tightly. Slowly, he drew his gleaming weapon from his scabbard and stared at it for a good while.

Several minutes later, Mok spoke what was on his mind for everyone to hear, “If the moment of glory is over before it has begun… If our dream is won – though everything is lost… I will pay the price, but I will not count the cost…We will pay the price, but we will not count the cost! We will overcome Lhex’s cruel games, no matter what we must pay!”

Sheathing his sword Mok drew his hood and began to stride towards the Pig’s Foot Tavern. He was full of excitement, full of energy, and hungry for flesh.

===

By the time he reached the cursed tavern, sweat was running down his armpits into the pommels of his gauntlets. Before stepping into the bar, he removed his gauntlets and shoved them into his belt. Wringing his hands, the half-blooded mongrel stepped into the familiar building. Scanning the environment, he saw several things that stood out to him; Antar and Bob where sitting at a large table with a mystery man sitting across from them, there was a group unknown hooligans sitting at another large table, and finally there was an unknown woman sitting in the corner of the bar.

Mok took off his hood and walked silently to the bar and ordered a pint of ale. Leaning on the bar, the myrian made eye contact with Antar and motioned with his pupils that there was a group of hooligans sitting across from them. “Unknown gang,” Mok mouthed out in silence to Antar. Shrugging his shoulders, Mok turned around again to receive his pint.

Mok turned his attention towards the woman he had never seen before. The woman had a deep scar running down her left eye. It was definitely a sobering sight. As Mok inspected her scar, he made no attempt to hide the fact he was looking straight at her. The myrian imagined for a moment what it would be like to have a deep wound in his eye. All he could imagine was an unending itch that would never be scratched. No matter how many times she would scratch the old wound, Mok knew that it would never bring relief to her. He knew this just by looking at her face and studying her expression.

Now that the woman had noticed Mok’s staring, the myrian made his move. He was not particularly interested with lying with this woman, but her worried presence and nerve racking scar was enough to make him curious. Mug in hand, the warrior walked directly towards the woman in slow even steps. Just before he took a seat, he turned back to Antar and gave him a reassuring nod.

“I am Mok of the Jagged Blade Clan,” the myrian said quietly to the woman, pronouncing his name in his native tongue. “Tell me your story and I will tell you mine. Please.” Mok took a deep draught from his mug and placed his sweaty hand on the table.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

by **Zandelia** on September 26th, 2011, 5:52 pm

Zandelia could have smiled in a smug manner as a few new patrons entered the tavern, one pontificating about cards could be discerned as some form of gambler. That was a promising prospect for her, she realized quickly, gamblers tending to know not only a good deal but how to escape a bad one when it rears its sour head. Such types, in her experience, knew much about the comings and goings of recent peoples and events. After all, when you lived your life on the edge it paid to know which side was best to fall on if you lost your balance. She watched the man and his companions carefully, attempting to be as serruptitious as possible.

It was just when she felt that her luck was finally swelling in a direction of personal advantage that her hopes took a slight blow and were brought marginally to their knees. A large man had entered the Pig’s Foot and had strode confidently over to the bar, looking for all the lands as if he were prepared for battle. Zandelia doubted very much he expected an uneventful evening, whoever he was. Something about him reminded her of something deep within her past, but she could not recall it in its entirety.

Things better not get out of hand this evening, I’ve had enough of that already this bloody week she thought to herself as she flashed her gaze across to the other patrons, roaming over to sense for any imminent trouble brewing about the new arrivals. Seeing nothing she relaxed ever so slightly and flicked her gaze back, only to catch the man looking at her.

She met his gaze a few times whilst trying not to attract his attention overly much, hoping perhaps he might just let her be as an unknown. Her luck finally snapped at that point, though, and he sent an small nod to one of the men with the gambler as he approached her table.

“Damn! And friends too…”she breathed to herself as she tried to compose herself and appear to be a dangerous person to trifle with – laughable in many ways though that was.

As the man finally came to sit down and take a sip of his brew, without so much as asking either she couldn’t help but notice, he gave his name in a dialect that she could not even begin to grasp. She tried not to let incredulity creep across her face, but could not help her eye fading out of focus for a few moments as she tried to pick his name from the jumble of syllables she has been given.

“Mok….” she responded in a thoughtful tone, her gaze becoming sharper once more and resting upon the man’s face again, well aware she had little to no advantage here.

Not with a man who could pick me up with one hand and throw me across the room. Why did I even come out this evening? she berated herself inside her skull.

“Well…Mok…my name is Zandelia, and that first name is all that matters these days. As to my story, well for all of that detailed information you’d have to pay. I’m not in the habit of giving knowledge away for free. Still, it was fairly asked and the boldness deserves a reward at least” she spoke slowly, gauging her words as she went.

“I’ll sum it up in three short sentences and from that you can see if you can find anything more out, though I give no guarantees. Orphan. Ex-slave. Nobody” she finished with an over-sweet smile for him over the rim of her clay mug.

“Now, a bargain is a bargain and so you can tell me your history should you like. If you have friends though it might be easier to get it out of them” she stated with a point of the finger towards those whom he had interacted with on the way over.

“If you were looking for a tumble in the mud, though, then you’ve picked the wrong lass to try it with. I shan’t suffer to be part of some boyish game so easily and should you try anything I promise it won’t be easy for you” she stared at him solidly now, eye to eyes.

She was well aware that she could have done nothing in real terms to stop any advances, or anything of anything when all was said and done. Still, many of the mercenary types, which she presumed him to be from his general appearance, respected strength and passion when it was shown to them. Even more so when it was a useless gesture on some occasions. She could hope for such an outcome, but she was still supremely happy she always carrier her late father’s dagger in her boot – for all the good it might do her.

Nodding to the boys and then coming over to chat? Oh how I do love to be part of testosterone-fuelled antics she seethed mentally, cerebrally rolling her eyes in derision.

In reality she felt far from confident and could sense control of the evening slipping away from her. What had started as a simple drink in an attempt to find something to sell was now morphing into something she was not sure would be likeable.

by **Mok** on September 27th, 2011, 1:56 am

NoteThe timestamps are for the benefit of Antar/Bob's timing in their posts

(18: 17PM)

Mok listen intently to Zandelia’s story. Her harsh Sunberthian began completely apparent to the myrian when he heard her pronounce his own name. Zandelia’s story was short, sweet and to the point, much like his question. No drama, no gossip, nothing. Mok understood now who the true children of sunberth were really like. This older woman was beaten and shattered, one need only look at her scars. However, when talking to her and listening to her story, one felt that stubborn sunberthian toughness that plagued every natural resident of the hell hole. A toughness that was much different than the toughness of the Myrians of Talobia. The Jagged Blade are considered mean and tough, just the same way native sunberthians are as well. But it was all different. Another style. Something foreign to Mok, but none the less there.

Just as Zandelia was closing off her story, Mok began to notice that the hooligans sitting at the other table where getting louder and louder. Shrugging it off, Mok commented on the curious woman’s words, “Yes, a bargain is a bargain.” The hooligans began to raise their voices even louder in belligerent laughter.

(18: 22 PM)

“I am Mok of the Jagged Blade Clan of Taloba of the land Faylndar, which Myri holds supreme,” the half-blood said this time in a ragged broken common so that Zandelia might understand, “I am a warrior who has been brutally cast out from my nation. For many years I wondered the lands as a disambiguas half-blood looking for a home. Now I reside in Sunberth and have found a cause –“

The half-blood suddenly stopped. The Kyrsus damned boys sitting at the other table had completely abrupt in complete chaos. It was so loud that everyone at the bar had to stop their musing. This disruption was not acceptable. Mok’s eyes began to smolder into anger. Unlike his cousin Cade, Mok’s anger was controlled and seemingly passive, but deadly none the less. In a quiet, horse voice, the myrian whispered to Zandelia, “Excuse me.”

(18:24 PM)

Turning around on his chair, Mok starred at the group on the table while he slipped on his gauntlets under the table. After a few moments he yelled over to the barkeep, “Oi! Tell those boys to be quiet or kick them out.” The barkeep growled and tried to whistle to warn the kids to shut up, but he would not lift a finger.

Mok then turned back toward Zandelia, “I cannot accept disrespect Zandelia. There is zero tolerance for that. If my brother is disrespect-- ” Again the other crowd got louder. Slowly, Mok shifted his weight towards the group and quietly picked up his glass mug. The myrian now saw tunnel vision; everything and everyone was blocked out except for the hooligans sitting across the tavern. Slowly the angered consumed his heart. In a matter of moments, Mok was boiling over. He tried hard to hold it back, but he couldn’t compete with his myrian blood. Everything or anything that was muttered by Zandelia was ignored. The warrior simply stared and the longer he stared the worst it got.

(18:26 PM)

“Oi - Oi!” the myrian suddenly said as he stood to his feet, “Will you shut up? I am trying to fucking talk!”

Silence.

The whole tavern was completely silent. Any sane man would not challenge a group of hooligans, especially if he were alone. Mok however was different though. The whole tavern was silent for a whole minute as the warrior slowly sat down, staring down his new enemies. No made a move however. Several intense moments later, Mok turned back towards Zandelia. The rest of the bar let out a sigh of relief. No action was taken, but the myrian new that soon enough, he would be fighting with these hooligans.

(18:27 PM)

“I do not care who they are. Even if there is nothing that I can do against them, I will stand up and fight. As a warrior I live for these moments of strife and conflict. It is my duty-- “ For the last time Mok was interrupted by the mocking holligans who suddenly began to curse the myrian. Is a quickly flash of rage, Mok flung his glass mug over his shoulder and stood up. The breaking of the glass completely silenced the tavern and the hooligans all knew it was their que to begin fighting.

Scowling at Zandelia for one last time, Mok turned towards the hooligans ready for anything.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

by **Antar** on September 27th, 2011, 11:57 pm

Hands of Cards :

Ah Sunberth's taverngoing. What a pleasant change from the usual sordid lot that roamed the streets. In a tavern, there was the basic gist that you'd at least be able to get a meal without worrying about a dagger in the back from the serving girls at least... unless you tipped poorly that is. Then even that was not guaranteed. But so far his past few days had been... peaceful and truth be told he liked them that way. Not having to get into a fight or worry about your gold being pinched so long as you were careful, kept your head down and didn't do a thing was pretty good. The old routine of going to work in the morning out in the woods had been followed by leaving early in the afternoon.

So he had decided to kill some time by meeting up with an acquaintance of sort, Bob Barton. Bob was a man of a dwarfish size, but inside that small form Noth figured the man held a lot of potential if he just managed to work through all the times he let his fear take control of his actions. Truly told though, Noth knew Bob had a cowardly streak in him, probably ingrained from years worth of living on the edge of society, thinking it easier to flee then to fight. Noth couldn't really blame him for that philosophy, it was one he shared. He only took life in three circumstances: if someone attacked him, it was a job, or the petching idiot tried to betray or steal from him.

Either of those three things was a one way ticket to see the darker sides of Antar's nature. But that didn't mean there wasn't a good side... it was just buried deep. Real deep. Like deeper then one would bury all the corpses he'd accumulated over the years in his old job. But on the rarest of occasions, it did rise to the surface. Take the trip here for instance, Bob had been enthusiastically chattering on about the subtle nuances of various card games, and Antar had politely paid attention. Card games weren't his thing, but he had a strange suspicion that a bare grasp of the essentials would be necessary in the future.

He was clothed out in his mercenary gear for the trip, and the passage through the warehouse district had been pretty tense. There were gangs on every streetcorner 'protecting' the premises of the warehoused they were paid to guard, while a few tended to try to rough up any passer goers in the name of fun to cure their everlasting boredom. A few had ventured towards Bob, but somehow the sight of a well armed Antar had warned them off. That was good, Noth hated if his good day was to be ruined by conflict for no good reason. But that didn't mean he didn't keep an eye out for anything out of sorts.

Finally, close to the tavern's street he spotted an altercation... of sorts. It wasn't anything majore, just a squabble between children and a bully holding a raggedy doll out of reach of some girl's head. Bob had moved to the other side of the street, but Antar had kept walking forwards. When the boy turned to run away with his prize, a quick snatch above the boy's head netted Noth a brand new, used rag - doll for a term. The kid looked up at him , gulping a little as Noth stared downwards to survey the item as if it was a prized possession. Pitching his voice a little lower, Noth mumbled, "You know boy... you should learn to treat a young woman with care. It's not wise to take their things as they always have a means of getting back at you. Even if it takes a while."

The bully gulped a little, before nodded dully and Antar grunted as if that was the end of it before waving his hand in a shooing motion. The bully took off, and Antar then turned towards the girl. Without a word he tossed the rag doll back to her and marched onwards to rejoin up with Bob who seemed not to have notice his slight detour as they both entered the tavern to have a seat at one of the tables. He didn't care to look around at the other people in the tavern. He didn't want any fights.

It was a good day, there were no fights, no altercations. And he really wanted a glass of chilled redberry juice to quench his thirst. It wasn't an alcoholic beverage and would complement his thirst nicely. "Tell you what Bob, long as it's not for mizas, how about you and I have a practice game while we get a few drinks?"

Soon enough, Barton had whisked up a pack of cards from his sleeve (and noth would bet he had a few more stashed up there) and the two were happily playing the first round. When a waitress came over he ordered a pitcher of water, and redberry juice for the two of them; if Bob would ask to help pay for them Noth would wave such thoughts aside and mumble it was his way of thanking the man for his help with all the rats and good business for any future endeavors the two might have but that if he wanted food to complement his drinks; then Bob should order it on his own.

When the glasses came with the attention of a young blonde lass waitress he ordered a small bit of stew and broth, with a bit of bread on the side for himself before giving her a wink. She smiled and laughed as many a tavern wench in sunberth did before going off to deal with his order. "Hey try this out, Bob." Antar said as he slid a glass of redberry towards the man. He let him drink first, it was only for two reasons, the first being he was overly paranoid and cautious about anything he hadn't prepared himself and the second was it was just good manners.

A few moments passed as he considered his present hand of cards, and out of the corner of his eye he noted another acquaintance of his stroll through the door, Mok. Well that was fine, the rogue was about to offer him a seat before he stormed off towards a corner booth to chat with a rather scarred up lass. Yeah... that was Mok alright. He just digged any woman with a scar. Turning back to the game amusingly he took two more cards with Bob acting as the dealer wondering if this was the game of wanting to get 'twenty-one'' like the man had been talking about. If so, he might have to stop himself from getting another card.I'll let you play out the round of cards, and their tallies bob as the dealer

He was close to high teens now. "I'll hold.

The third hand was a little trickier with him drawing two cards totaling eight, and a third to bring him up to twenty where he held again.

The bar was a usual braucaus place and it seemed that his day was still going relatively peaceful, but a small gnaggling hint that that was about to change creeped into his mind as he started to here Mok more and more attempt to chasten a set of idiots that seemed to be overshadowing his attempts to flirt up the woman he was sitting with. As it got louder and louder, as Bob's and Antar continued playing a few more hands, he sighed loudly and cast an apologetic look towards Barton and excused himself before standing from his chair to glance towards Mok while he crossed his arms over his chest. Antar's silent glare tried to tell the other man that if this was to be a fight, he at least wanted it hurried it up to try to finish it before his dinner was served.

This day had been so peaceful, and now the barbarian's tenacity to make himself look good in front of a female seemed it was going to end his pleasantly relaxing day for him. 'That just really sucked! But... still.' Noth cast a look towards Barton a moment and smiled as a wicked thought came to his mind.

by **Bob Barton** on September 28th, 2011, 2:18 pm

Cards :

No mizas? That was no fun at all. "If not mizas then how about the winner gets to do one fun thing to the loser. Of course it can't be that bad like hurting the body or the wallet." Bob wanted something at stake since it always made things more fun. "That should be acceptable right? You win something without losing anything" he said trying to sweeten the deal which Antar would hopefully accept. But Bob took out his deck of cards anyway. One deck because cards are expensive and Antar would be sadly mistaken if he thinks that Bob was a good enough player to afford more just to hide in his sleeve.

Like always after taking out his cards he looked around. There was a specific reason he chose the middle of the floor as well. After that experience with being terrorized by one Cade during his early days in the Pig's Foot, Bob always wanted to know if there was anybody who got too interested in his games at the tavern just in case they had some ideas of their own for him. Nothing much. On his left he saw some hooligans bragging some unbelievable nonsense, on his right he saw a few burly men too busy concentrating on their own game of arm wrestling to bother about Bob's own game and at the front? Antar's body was blocking but if anyone did attack them from there at least Antar would be the first victim long enough for Bob to escape.

When the drinks came, Bob took his friend's kind paranoia gladly. Right before it touched his lips, "Just so you know, this does not count as a replacement for mizas in the game." Bob was still happy with the drinks though. It would be good if this was because Antar knew Bob's did not really like alcoholic beverages.

Then Bob continued by stealing a glance behind only to see a sad, lonely woman at the corner of the tavern. He wanted to just go up and invite her since...lonely women are easy targets. That was until he saw the scar on her eye and then he turned back to Antar to mumble "Not my type" before shuffling the cards. That was when he saw a huge frame enter the bar and said "Hell!" Men like that bring disaster wherever they went but Bob was relieved when he recognized Mok who removed his hood. Giving a grin before continuing to shuffle the cards, Bob saw the myrian trying to say something. "What the heck did he mean by hunt gnome men?" Bob asked Antar misinterpreting the myrian's words.

No point in wasting time wondering what a savage thought, Bob continued shuffling his cards just wanting to get back to the game. Then he started to distribute the cards, catching sight of Mok walking past towards the woman. Bob stole a look behind and then turned back to Antar "Guess that is his type eh? Probably because his cousin already goes after all the good ones" with a mischievous grin which got smaller once he saw his cards. Absolutely horrible. The only thing worse now would be if Cade stormed into the Pig's Foot.

With this hand Bob did not even have to pause to take his next card. Hoo-freaking-ray. He still needed to draw. Bob just hoped that Antar's hand was just as bad as his while the took another. Petch...a loss and Antar did not even want to take another card. Once they both revealed their cards Bob was shocked. "You got a twenty one in your first cards?!? Why didn't you just show it from the beginning?" Bloody hell. This was definitely beginner's luck for Antar.

The second round was not that good as well. Not happy with his cards, Bob decided to let Antar try drawing first. Strangely enough, he declined. Curses. The only conclusion that Bob can get to from this is that Antar had a really good hand. At least it is not a twenty-one right? Or is Antar still withholding it because he does not know any better? "Are you sure you don't want to take another card?" he asked hoping to trick Antar into drawing another "pretty please?" he pleaded silently. But no, Antar was too smart for this. Bob wished it was Mok and had no choice but to draw again. All the way until he went over.

Third round and Bob held his head on his arm on the table. No point in hiding it now. Today was a really bad day. "What did I do yesterday?" he asked himself thinking this was some sort of retribution. With a sigh and too disappointed to even look at Antar he just waved his hands to signal Antar to go first. Bob trained his eyes on Antar to watch his reaction as the man drew his next card hoping to see something. Anything! But no, Antar was still as calm as usual. Maybe it was a good thing that Antar did not want to have any mizas involved in today's game. Still, the stress got him enough to make him ignore the breaking glass.

Lucky for Bob as soon as he took his next two cards, Antar got up and glared. Bob followed the eyes and leaned backwards to see that he was glaring at Mok. "What, don't tell me she is your type too Antar" Bob mouthed off not realizing the gravity of the situation. Antar should be able to hear that since it was so quiet...wait! The tavern was quiet?!? Bob finally looked around to see that everyone had their attention on the myrian who was getting ready to fight with the hooligans he spotted earlier.

This was an...EXCELLENT CHANCE TO ABANDON THE GAME! Then Bob would not have to admit any loss to Antar. Quickly he reached back to his redberry juice and bumped on Antar's which spilled all over the table. No trouble, this was part of the plan. Then he threw up his glass and splashed the contents over to the hooligans, quickly hiding the glass behind him. Hopefully the hooligan's won't know it was him but one started staring at Bob who just gasped innocently while shaking his head. Subtly he moved his eyeballs to the side to draw the hooligan's attention to the spilled glass on the table and push the trouble to Antar.

OOCOk Antar I know what you want to do so you can say that its to get your reward for winning and for petty retribution

by **Zandelia** on September 28th, 2011, 11:10 pm

As the scenes unfolded around her in the tavern she knew these moments would be ones she remembered for the rest of her life, even if it were only for the fact it would teach her what curiosity and alcohol blended together rewarded her with. It happened in stages, and she knew it was how it would be remembered. Still life frames of time, captured in the dingy common room for all time, recallable in her mind’s eye at a whim. It was a carnival of pointless stupidity in the making, the loud noises followed by the cowing by Mok, to the retorts by the hooligans – and the crowning glory of all pointlessness was the throwing of what appeared to be juice over the group of hooligans huddled together by the short man.

Still, it was pretty amusing when all is said and done she thought to herself as cold, hard realism started to set in and the freeze-frame began to thaw, becoming heatedly charged very quickly.

“Murder is in the air tonight, and I’m stuck in the middle of it with a violent barbarian, a silent killer and a dwarf with a sense of humour. Fuck me” she muttered to herself as she sat there, running through her admittedly few options.

In a town where strength was respected over cowardice, and where crass violence could be worth its weight in mizas, weakness was a failing that could not be tolerated. She had been seen with Mok, and brief as their first (and possibly only) meeting had been, it was connection enough to link her to him as far as everyone around them was concerned, she was sure of that. As much as she would kill to be able to erase those minutes from her lifetime, such a hope served no real purpose. No, she was stuck with him now, for the immediate future at the very least.

And I can’t even use any weapons in this damned place if I ever hope to survive exiting in one piece too she thought as she leaned forwards and used the table to push herself to her feet, ever so slowly and carefully.

She downed the last of her drink in one swift swallow and put it back down upon the table, the small sound seeming to echo in the absolute silence as eyes began to fix to her form now. She brought her fists up to her eye and began to pull the detachable spikes from her solid gauntlets, not wishing the lose the advantage of having something extremely hard surrounding her knuckles. She nodded at the barman, placing the evil looking things into her miza pouch and securing that quite firmly to her belt. That done, she slunk up to be upon Mok’s left-hand side and between him and his two friends at the bar.

“The next time you get me into a bloody fight I’ll join the other side” she hissed at him, pitching her voice for him personally as she looked up the opponents and tried to decide which was the best to face down and the least likely to break her nose.

The scene froze once more as everyone waited for the first die to be thrown in the game.

This is the last time I come to the bar when I’m down on my luck to begin with was all she could think to herself as she stood her ground beside the giant.

by **Mok** on September 30th, 2011, 3:30 pm

As soon as the Bob threw his juice over the hooligans, Mok leapt into action. The closest holligan was a man around Mok’s age and size. The myrian rushed forward and attempted to provoke the man with a rude hand gesture, “I’ll cut you first!” His opponent’s eye flared in anger. WHACK! Mok had made first contact with devastating head butt, dropping the man to the floor. The warrior’s next move was a strong heel to the man’s jaw. The crunching bones gave Mok goose bumps. This was the best feeling in the world. Adrenaline began to pump through his body and delight surged through his veins.

Through the corner of his eye, the myrian noticed a wild punch flying his way. Another one of the kids had the bright idea of swinging on Mok. Ducking under the hook, the warrior came up into the man’s phone both and upper cut square on his jaw. Blood sprayed onto Mok’s face: another hooligan just got dropped.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

by **Zandelia** on October 2nd, 2011, 9:02 am

Zandelia was not even sure Mok had heard her hissed words, springing into action as he did almost immediately afterwards. As the first two hooligans acquired an unfortunate taste for knuckles she grasped a flashing look at his face and saw him to be smile, smiling as he set about breaking teeth and general bodily damage. She had only a split-second moment to consider her foolish position next to a blood-seeking madman before she became a target herself, one of the hooligans stepping forwards with a mocking grin upon his face as he sought to punish her.

“’Ere we go lads, you get ‘im!” he shouted at the others as he directed them towards the barbarian Mok, happily bludgeoning away and a far greater threat. “I’ll handle missy one-eye here and help ye in a bit” he finished as Zandelia stood her ground, shifting her feet slightly – left one forwards and the right back – to provide a stable centre of gravity for what was to come.

The hooligan thought her to be easy prey, after all she was a good few inches smaller, thinner in terms of muscle and raw strength and on top of that was a women – and women seemed to be thought of as easy prey by thugs in Sunberth for some reason. It was a piece of well-established common knowledge that was, of course, quite wrong indeed. Women in Sunberth were just as deadly as the men, having been forced to become ruthless in their undertakings due to the very nature of the township as a melting pot of larceny and debauchery. No woman lasted long if she could get rammed against a wall and taken against her will – well, and not get paid for it at any rate.

It’s just that we don’t need to think with our muscles all of the time, our brains being in our heads she thought as she brought her guard up and awaited his attack with a building sense of controlled anger.

His assault was simple – and short lived as it turned out. – and the man had obviously never been in very many ‘true’ fights judging by his inexperienced and wide-rounding attempt at a bludgeoning hook for her face. It was a simple affair to lean backwards and guide his arm in its full arc, over-balancing the man as his bodyweight unexpectedly met all but air resistance. She used her left forearm to push him further in his spin, exposing his ribs all too comfortably as she stepped to her left, deftly taking herself out of his field of vision. It was a simple move, one which all basically experienced fighters knew. She felt almost sorry for her opponents that he would now be added to the list of those whom had learned it the hard way.

Almost she thought viciously as she returned her own assault to his body.

She gave two short, sharp punches to his ribs and could feel a couple of them crack with satisfaction as she caught the tips of them with her knuckles, following that up with a chop to the kidney on the same side with the had edge of her palm. Unbalanced as he already was he now was beginning to hunch too, an instinctive response of the body to her attack upon it, but which in turn also left his forwards knee bent. She pushed upon it with her heel, a small nudge was all it took, and his knee was un the floor and he was ready to be put out of his misery. She grabbed her clay cup from the table behind her and smashed it across his temple – his consciousness being taken away from him before he even crumpled to the floor.

It had taken merely a few seconds for the whole scene to unfold, and when his friends had seen what had happened a couple of the split away from Mok to entangle themselves with herself. She did not give them the chance to start flanking her, though, taking the fight to them so that she was closer to Mok in case she needed assistance with them. She lashed out a forwards kick at one of them to try and keep him at bay with the balls of her feet as the other one approached, this time more wary than his unconscious brother.