[silver sliver tavern]There will be Brawl! (open for all)

[Roman]

Roman just glared at the man who's face he was constantly punching, deep down feeling a sort of grim satisfaction that he was the one breaking somebody instead of fixing them up. It felt, liberating. Suddenly the man laying under roman snarled and grabbed a handful of his cloak pulling him to the left at the same time as he rolled with him. Roman hit his head against the leg of a table, momentarily seeing stars in front of his eyes as he tried to ignore the pain in his head and get back into the fight, giving the wild man more then enough time to escape. As the spots in his vision slowly began to fade Roman slowly came back to his senses and lashed out with a clumsy kick to what roman thought was dervish general direction, before pushing himself slowly back onto his feet. His head still hurting quite a bit. Why did this happen just now to ruin his good day? Roman thought while growling in anger turning around towards the miscreant that ruined his entire relaxing evening and gave him a murderous glare. "You really are doing your worst to ruin everybody's evening don't you?" Roman said in an angry voice. He once again kicked towards the crouching man, though ti would have been easily evaded. oocsorry for the short post, but I really am not that good at fighting scenes, and my untrained char isn't the best one to do that anyway.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra saw the tall man who had helped her up earlier fall from his struggles against Dervish. Not looking to have an act of kindness rendered go unpaid, the dark-haired barmaid moved to return the favor, already forgetting the fact that the man had been the one to trip her. Accidental though it was, it was the pivotal act that had started the whole brawl in the first place. The man sat up groggily, eyes seemingly spinning in their sockets. Cassandra was about to kneel and try to prop him up when the man suddenly kicked out, smacking her perfectly under the jaw. It was a relatively weak blow but it was still enough to snap the woman's head backwards. she tasted blood in her mouth, not realizing that the impact had caused her to bite the inside of her cheek as well as her bottom lip. But that was the least of her worries. The force of the blow also sent her careening into the direction of Murmur, making her land awkwardly on his lap before her momentum overbalanced the both of them and the chair on which the man was sitting tilted backwards. For the second time that evening, Cassandra found herself deposited on the floor, though this time there was another beneath her.

[Murmur]

Murmur was beginning to grow increasingly bored. The fighting had become a rough-and-tumble, no interesting plot twists, no deception, no clear blood or festering wounds. It was all too…..tame. And he was sipping there, clearly just enjoying a good cup of ale, and watched with unsettling gray eyes as Cassandra bent to help what appeared to be a tall man in a cloak, who had been fighting another, random brute of a man who fought a woman, all clearly causing distress and havoc in an otherwise orderly tavern. And wasn’t that the whole point? Of course not even Murmur could foretell that the barmaid named Cassandra would suddenly be kicked square in the jaw, knocked back into his lap and send him collapsing onto the ground, with his cup of ale clattering to the floor and covering his uniform in the less than pleasant stench. The look in his eyes was almost akin to a demon as he stared at the woman who lay atop him. “If you would be so kind as to get off me.” He calmly, if not venomously said, “I would most greatly appreciate it.” And when she did so he stood, the scaled and clawed hand flexing in the wake of his growing temper, and his other hand soon followed suit. He surged the djed and formed what could be a replica of his bestial hand on his other, and was soon armed with ten hardened and blacked talons that promptly knocked Cassandra to the floor with a vicious slap to her mouth. “Do not presume that I will suddenly apologize for the second time you have made a fool of me, love.” Then he turned to the tall man, the one who seemed to be bent on send flying kicks toward anyone in particular, and grasped his cloak in a vicelike grip, talons ripping through the thread almost effortlessly. He pulled him down until he collapsed on his back against the filthy floor, and positioned his knee on his chest and his talon hand against his throat. “My name is Murmur of the Ebonstryfe. This little party has gone on far enough.” He proclaimed in a loud tone. Most of the patrons seemed to gasp and stare almost frighteningly at him, but of course, he held no hopes that those who were fighting would stop almost instantaneously. Pressure was applied to the tall man’s throat, as he leaned forward to whisper, “Do not continue this fight, let it fester and tame itself.” He stood then, and turned to Aello “You there, girl with the matted hair, cease your fighting and perhaps I will not detain you.” His eyes strayed toward the one named Dervish, “Unfortunately, the same consequences apply to you. You’ve all had your fill of stroking your ever-growing manhoods, either you continue outside, or your lives are forfeit by the Ebonstryfe.” It was a black lie. Chaos and destruction was essential in Rhysol’s view, but the charade had gone on long enough. Murmur knew the law, that if any citizen were to attack him, an Ebonstryfe member, they would be punished severely. To these people, he was untouchable.

[Robert Cithon]

Robert dipped his sword into the canal, he was in some unfamiliar area of Ravok. To be completely truthful, majority of the city was unfamiliar to him still. He had only been in town three days now, couldn’t expect a man to make knowing every detail of a huge complex city his first priority right? None the less, Robert had just killed a few men for money. It was amazing how easy he could think or spoke that now, not a hint of gilt on his voice or hiding in his facial features.

He pulled his sword out the canal, the slowly moving current cleaned most of the drying blood of his weapon. The remaining carnage he wiped of with the underside of his cloak. Better not to flaunt that sort of thing publicly. You never knew who was a friend of someone you just killed. He stood up and sheathed his sword, his other weapons were already cleaned. Water was not the best thing to use for these tasks, but it was all that was available at the moment. Make due with what you have, whatever that may be.

Robert was growing tired, but before finding a place to sleep safely he thought a drink or two might help him out tonight. Plus, you never knew who would need his services in a tavern this late. The jobs could range widely, but a job was a job. He couldn’t complain as long as they paid him for his services. So he began to walk through the city in search of a decent appearing tavern.

After about thirty minutes, he stumbled upon the Silver Sliver. I appeared a honest enough business. That is until he heard the commotion inside. Robert found no eagerness to rush into a brawling bar this night, instead he patiently stood outside and waited for it to calm down a bit. Once the bustling seemed to be all but concluded he decided to enter the tavern. To his surprise it was not yet calmed, a fight or two were still being “worked” out here and there. But he was pleased that majority of it was over. It seemed mostly in part due to the man holding another to the ground with taloned hands, which made his stomach twist just a bit. He had never seen anything like that before.

None the less, he attempted to ignore the looks he received when he walked through the door. He made a point not to lock eyes with anyone seeming significant. Robert had to study over the crowd, pick out which ones may need his assistance and which ones would be a waste of time. He made his way to a corner booth, and sat down. His weapons making him a bit uncomfortable and putting a kink in his back. He began to study the crowd, narrowing his list with looks he received or small bits of conversation he picked up here and there. Biding his time until he felt it was the right time to make a move.

[Dervish]

Dervish subconsciously heard someone approaching from behind, and reacted by spinning around moving his hands upwards at the same time as the kick came flying into his head, his movement applying some extra momentum. By sheer chance, Aello got to land a hard kick to his chin which sent him reeling backwards, regaining his balance with his hands on an overturned chair. Suddenly, Dervish saw the waitress flying through the tavern, kicked in the head by the tall man!? His surprise was broken by him approaching, yelling some slurs and throwing another blunt kick towards him. Dervish stepped backwards and took a grip under his heels, pulling up sending the man off-balance and backwards. He stood up in his full height, and was about to move forward when a uniformed man with... Claws? Suddenly swooped through the tavern, his otherwise pretty-boy face contorted into a twisted mockery of his own appearance. Dervish heard him yelling something about Ebonstryfe as he was picking up the chair he had used to stabilize himself, and stopped dead in his path of approaching the new assailant. He felt heat and a rush of blood course around in his body. It felt like steam, an unbridled energy and he forcibly contained himself, an inaudible curse muttered across his lips as he looked around. The waitress was over in the corner, bleeding. The tall man was on the floor, and the 'Stryfe was speaking something, whatever, to him and others. Dervish sent him a dark look, looking up into the man's eyes. He might be lying and pretending, but he found nothing. He was Ebonstryfe, and therefore untouchable. Dervish grinned briefly at him, a short, sharp smile which held no good-spirited mirth. Despite the man looking terrifying with his claws, he still felt like fighting him. It was not an option. The moment was over. Dervish started walking away, in the direction of the barmaid and the tables in that side of the bar. His heartbeat and breath was settling, and he looked around at the chaos he had caused, wondering if the god of chaos appreciated or resented what he had caused in this tavern.

[Aello]

Aello simply glared at the man who called himself one of the stryfe. Well there goes the joy of a little bar fight, she thought, before considering the fact that perhaps that was a good thing. She half-nodded, never taking her eyes off the clawed man, as she strode over to the table she and Dervish had been sitting at at the beginning of the night, and collected her things. She slung her quiver over her shoulder and onto her back, grabbed her bow, tightly gripping it in her right hand, as she slung her pack over her left shoulder, now she had everything.

Aello gave one last, angry look around the tavern, her eyes blazing with an intense inner flame, as she pushed through the crowd that huddled by the door of the Silver Silver, before pushing open the door, and storming out. The door slammed shut behind her a few moments later, just as she was turning around the corner, only to be lost in the shadow of another Ravokian street, the moon failing to illuminate her features as it hid behind the clouds.

OOCSorry this post is really short, I just didn't know what else to say. >.<

[Robert Cithon]

Robert was sitting at a table alone, he had not ordered anything to drink here. He did not drink alcohol. He knew how people thought him odd for it, but he never acquired a taste for it. Or how it left him dizzy ad the room spinning around him, it just was not a thing he exposed him self to often. He surveyed the room one last, reading peoples actions and thinking to himself.

He could not find many, if any potential customers for his services. So after a few quick glances he decide to call it a night. But as he stood up to exit the room, a woman was exiting the building. She seemed flustered and maybe just a bit angered. Perhaps he could convince her she needed him for some late night revenge. Best to bring it up while the subject is still fresh on her mind. He headed out the doors a few steps behind her. She was moving fast, but that was not an issue. He knew a shortcut that would bring him out the same spot the street she was treading down would. So with out another though, he dashed around a corner. He meant to cut her off, and question her about the events and if she wanted anything to happen to whoever caused her mood. He could care less about the situation, he lived for the next coin.

[Cassandra Coven]

The slap hurt, causing Cassandra to stumble and fall to the floor once again. More than that, the hand-turned-claws opened up her skin from jaw to chin in three straight lines. While the wounds were shallow, the blood pooled quickly, staining her blouse red. One of her gloved hands reached up to touch the wounds and came off wet with the crimson fluid. Cassandra sat string at it with a look of shocked disbelief on her face. Her face - marred! Fortunately, one of the other barmaids had the presence of mind to come over and press a clean rag over the scratches. With a word of thanks in between sobs, Cassandra got up and fled to the kitchen in tears.

[Murmur]

Murmur smirked as the two unsettled individuals stomped out of the tavern in all their vexed fury. So they weren't stupid, at least that was certain. He charged his djed into his talon hands, and waited as the limbs reformed themselves into the shapes of his hands once more, except his nails were still slightly sharper than they used to be. He stepped over the fallen form of Roman, completely ignoring the fact that Cassandra had fled into the kitchen after his sudden assault upon her. It contented him to know that she would not soon forget to cause him any more unnecessary humiliation in front of the public, unless she was keen on being punished so swiftly. He was done here. Ready to call it a night and return to his rooms at the Vitrax. It was time to release some pent up energy.

[Roman]

Roman got a horried look on his face as he noticed he had kicked the woman but he hadn't even time to go and offer help of any kind to the woman before he was thrown to the ground by a man with strange hands, before he could even try to do anything against him one of them closed around his neck with an iron grip and his knee was pressing on his chest, making it impossible to stand up. “My name is Murmur of the Ebonstryfe. This little party has gone on far enough.” Roman blanched a bit when he heard that he was ebonstryfe, this couldn't end well at all. He almost instinctively tried to push the man of him but restrained himself, fighting back to the ebonstryfe would only make his situation even worse. Before he could even try to ask the man to release him he felt the pressure from his throat vanishing as the man pulled back his hands and stepped away from him not even sparing him another glance. He pulled himself back up to his feet and dusted himself off and looked to the small amount of destruction he caused in the bar. Letting out a loud sigh he walked towards the closest maid near him. "I am really sorry about the mess I took part in," He paused in shame for a few moments before continuing. "Would you kindly tell me where the barmaid that I accidentally hurt is? I am a doctor so I would like to check up on her to be sure there isn't lasting damage of any kind." The maid just pointed towards the kitchen before she began cleaning up the mess he and the others had created in their fight. Mumbling another apology to the maid he walked towards the kitchen trying to ignore most of the looks on him. As soon as he was at the door he care fully called out. "Miss, I have to apologize for my mishap earlier, If you don't mind though could you let me look at the wounds you have? I don't have any of my tools here right now but I would like to know I didn't do anything that would last."