[Flashback]Wasn't there a bar here?[Pash]

[Ssafirsotibones]

23 Winter 506 Bones had once more spent the day out hunting, trying to find some fresh meat in this place of humans, that loved to ruin it by cooking and "seasoning" it... More like petched it up... But he could only hunt on occasion, and had to usually settle on the meat in the city. So he was a bit happier than normal, his belly full of some kind of furry animal, digesting away. So what was he to do for the rest of the night, before returning home? Why not get a drink? So as he meandered through Alvadas, he concentrated on drinking, alcohal, getting drunk... And soon enough, he ran into a bar. It was not one he knew, but it looked like it would do. So he waltzed right in, and ordered ale, and sat down at the bar. He was not paying to much attention, feeling relatively safe with his gladius strapped across his back in its sheath. With that, along with his solid build and tall nature, it tended to keep most troublemakers away.

[Pash'nar]

Pash'nar wasn't convinced he liked Alvadas. The shifting city was disorienting at best and downright disturbing at worst. Every time he'd come into the Patchwork Port as a member of the crew, he'd always try to find one spot and stay there. Well, as long as the petching place would actually let him. This time was no exception. Holed up like a hermit crab in some tiny dive, it felt like some old galley's forecabin it was so cramped. It was even apparently favored by other sea-farers, though there was just enough variety in patrons tonight to make it feel like something slightly more civilized. Not by much, however. The only thing missing was the swaying of waves, though he'd made sure to have downed enough lager before the sun went down to feel a little sway in his step even after his mortal seeming had faded into something more regal, more etherial, more obvious. It was much easier to drink alone in the daylight. Now, somehow, the ethaefel found himself dragged unwillingly into a disorderly game of cards—he petching hated cards—and not a single hand was going in his favor. Someone had to be cheating, but he wasn't sure he had the mizas to ride out the game and figure out which swarthy sailor was shuffling the deck to pad his wallet with everyone else's mizas. The round ended with Pash losing a few more mizas to the bearded ginger to his left. Just as he was about to open his mouth to comment on just how lucky he'd been the past few rounds, the broad-shouldered old fisherman in front of him spat and stood up from the table, tossing his cards with a wicked sneer, "I ent playin' yer sorry arse another chime, y'cheatin' beast." Pash was about to chime in agreement, eagerly watching the man raise his gnarled hand to point toward the object of his bitter accusation. Only the fisherman's finger leveled square with his own pale, opalescent-skinned chest. He'd just lost. This old man had sea water on the brain. The whole table erupted into accusation as the navigator stood to defend himself, revealing his hand with a threatening sneer, chairs toppling and mugs slamming. It was loud, carrying over the din of the entire bar.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones had ordered his drink. He had been minding his own business, when he heard a commotion behind him. Some stupid sailors most likely, arguing over who's ship was bigger. Utter foolish nonsense. But as the noise got louder, and Bones was still waiting for his drink, he wondered what could be the problem. He looked over, to the several men standing and accusing each other, arguing, with cards all over a table. He watched for a few moments, but turned back as his drink arrived. They were just stupid humans, not worth his time or attention. That is until he heard things getting even louder, and was smashed forward, knocking his newly arrived drink off of the bar, as he was hit in the back of the head by a mug, which smashed on impact. Bones got up, getting to his full sinewy height, glaring back at the men. He saw the one that had thrown the mug and hit Bones, and came right up to him, and yelled a deep throat-ed shriek at him. Some stupid human. But he lost his temper even worse, and grabbed the man, one hand at his hip, the other hand on his shoulder. Letting out another yell, he picked him up bodily off of the ground, and threw him a good ten feet across the room, to land on a table, which collapsed under him. He dramatically pointed at the man, who was probably knocked out for all he knew. "You owe me a drink!"

[Pash'nar]

Well, that did it. Pash was just considering whether or not head-butting the nasty old man would've been too cruel—really, he was still technically younger than the ethaefal on all accounts—when someone large stood up from the bar and stalked his way angrily to their table. In the blink of an eye, the rather inebriated and slightly smelly man who had been next to him was lifted bodily off the ground and thrown across the bar. This was not a good sign. Patrons roared—half cheering, half protesting—and it was obvious there would be no turning back once the thrown man crashed into the table. Cerulean eyes widened like tide pools at the show of strength, realizing he had no petting desire to end up on that one's bad side. The rest of the bar? Petch 'em. They were a bunch of cheaters anyway, apparently. There was only a brief pause in the room as the patrons in various states of sobriety considered their options—a couple of thoughtless heartbeats and beer-laden breaths. Then, the two sailors at the crushed table leapt over the very unconscious mug-throwing man toward Bones, not particularly angry at him so much as itching for something else to do besides drink. "Well, I don't think you'll be getting a drink that way." Pash wasn't entirely meaning to taunt the slightly shorter but definitely broader man still seething in front of his table. Well, maybe just a little ... His voice was only slightly slurred, the remnants of the afternoon's alcohol motionless in his nightly seeming. The lithe shard of moonlight then grinned a godless sort of smile, grabbing someone else's mug off the table and turning to swing it at the little red-headed man who'd been stock-piling the mizas, "But I wouldn't mind my coins back!"

[Ssafirsotibones]

So, Bones had lost his temper. That was for sure. He had not done so in a while, so perhaps it had just exploded out all at once. Regardless, the bar was in an uproar, after a brief pause were everyone froze. People running all over, either trying to get out, or to get into the fray. Next thing he knew, both of the men that had been sitting at the table the man landed on and crushed were up, and coming at Bones. Unfortunately for him, he only saw one of them, which was coming right at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mug getting swung into the side of a mans head, by someone else who had entered a fight. As the mug shattered, the first of the two men came up to him. Bones readied himself, dropping into a lower fighting stance, keeping loose and moving, bouncing his weight from one foot to the other. As the two of them closed, the other man threw a punch. Bones dodged it, bringing his hand up to grab the other arm. Then with his free arm, before the other combatant could recover, he gave him a punch right across the face. The man let out a painful grunt, and fell to a knee. Just as he was about to hit him again though, he was tackled from behind, by the other man who had sneaked up on him. Both of them crashed to the floor, as the first man Bones had punched recovered from his blow.

[Pash'nar]

Pash was admittedly disappointed when his mug completely shattered across the side of the much smaller man's skull, so he made sure to swing a few more times with just the jagged broken handle. The red-head stumbled backwards, a few stray cards mysteriously flying from his sleeves in the process. "Ha!" The navigator was satisfied with that, twisting slightly to leap forward with the force of his towering height, turning his head to one side at the last moment to crack the dark curve of his horn against the sniveling little cheater's face like some giant, moonlit mountain goat. There was a satisfying crunch and a groan as they connected, but the now-momentarily redeemed ethaefal was much too joyous to wait and watch for the other man to crumple at the impact. The rickety old dive of a bar had really dissolved into chaos. This was a decidedly decent end to the evening. Out of the corner of his eye, Pash saw the broad, angry fellow who could throw men like dolls go down under a charge. A bloodied, wobbly second man was quickly staggering to take advantage of the moment. Figuring he might have owed the brute one for the entertainment of the evening, he snatched up a chair and tossed it at the second attacker, barely catching the side of one knee. Still, it was enough to catch the man off guard and cause him to stumble, skidding face-down to a stop just out of reach of Bones and his other opponent. As he was considering how to finish the downed drunkard off, a searing wet pain erupted across the whole side of Pash'nar's face as some other fight-happy patron smashed a perfectly expensive-looking bottle of something or other over his head. Though his horns once again proved to be fabulous protection against head violence as much as a useful weapon, the whack was enough to make the navigator stumble to his knees. Finally, some of the drunk patrons were taller than the statuesque shard of moonlight. Finally, a few of them were happy to take advantage of their moment in the fray.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Lucky for Bones, the man he had earlier noticed smashing a mug into someones head, had now thrown a chair into the man who he had punched. Both him and the chair went flying, sliding over the ground, leaving only the one man for him to fight. A man who was now a bit shocked, as the person he had thought was on his side, was now down again. Bones let out a roar of anger, and reached both hands up to the mans shoulders. First he smashed the top of his head into the face of the man holding him. Before he had time to do anything else in reaction, Bones braced his legs, got some leverage on the man, and flipped him through the air to land smashing on top of the other guy hit by a chair. "Raaaaaahhhh!" Bones screamed, getting quite pumped up, his blood-lust and hunger rising... For some odd reason, he could feel a hunger growing in his belly... And he really felt like eating... And there was so much warm flesh nearby... Bones punched a man in the gut, and then kicked him in on the side of his knee. Then he picked him up, and sent him flying also... He really liked tossing people around... He was not sure why... But he laughed, as the man smashed into another man, who incidentally just so happened to be a man to have just smashed a bottle over the man, who had thrown a chair in Bones defense. He might as well aim the toss to return a favor. But he was really getting pumped up, as he saw someone take out a pair of daggers. Bones just chuckled, and drew his gladius, and closed with the man, crossing blades...

[Pash'nar]

Two of the bar's more inebriated patrons had decided to close in on the ethaefal once he was down, most likely more so they could sift through his pockets for spare change and more drinks than because they were in any state to fight impressively. Well, at least in Pash'nar's humble opinion. The first lurched forward in hopes of keeping the ethaefal on his knees, waving his fists wildly. The moonlit sailor glanced past him for just a heartbeat to see the large angry fellow throwing more patrons. It appeared to be a useful skill, that body tossing. Looking back to his first opponent, Pash raised a leather-bound wrist in preparation for the blows … And then there was a flying patron assist crashing through the rear defenses of his would-be attackers, careening the three of them into a pile that threatened to include the ethaefal in its sheer force had he not rolled to one side, arm still above his horned head. "Well, thank'ee much." Came the curt call across the bar as the unlikely sailor stood, using one of the struggling-to-stand patrons as his support, only to spend a moment kicking him afterwards, smirking at the throaty protest. "Though, surely, I would'a been fine, I ain't gonna refuse sucha nice gift." He grinned, thin-lipped and joking, obviously finding enjoyment in the danger of the moment. He eyed the men drawing their weapons and hefted a broken bottle instead. While he didn't think the larger man wound need any assistance, he wasn't above stealing a good show if the odds were in his favor.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones nearly laughed at the man, who had drawn a pair of daggers. Instead, he settled on snearing at him. He was getting more and more into the fight, and was starting to lose himself in his own flesh... Being submerged into the feeling of violence, pain, and battle that he usually tried to keep himself from... Being a dhani, most of those things came naturally to him... But he usually fought such base instincts, as his true mother Caiyha would want of him... But on these such occasions, he could feel himself getting lost in the domain of Siku, and even Myri, the Goddess-Queen of war and battle... As he closed with the man with small pointed metal, he roared, and slashed across his chest, knocking one of the blades from his grip, were it was sent flying, to stand quivering out of the wall. The man replied by sneaking his weapon in, and giving Bones a gash on his left shoulder... Bones noticed it as he suddenly felt the pain, like a white hot poker was laying on it. Bones replied by stabbing with his gladius, clean through the top of the mans shoulder, of the arm holding his remaining dagger, making him drop it and howl with pain. Bones smashed him in the eye with his fist, and then kicked him right in the chest, sending him sliding a good ten feet across the room on his back. By this time Bones was losing it, and several people previously fighting had run off. Bones just looked around, trying to see who to fight next, as he would come slashing at them when he did. Though it seemed there were less and less people remaining... Then his rage addled eyes settled on a man with horns... He roared at him and came at him, his fist ready to smash him to bits, his blade forgotten, but still gripped in his right hand.

[Pash'nar]

The ethaefal had no qualms about taking on opponents smaller and more inebriated than himself, but as he stood prepared for a few other patrons only to find the much larger man he had no desire in facing coming in his direction, apparently interested in smashing him. Petch, no. So far, he'd managed to get by with only a few scrapes and bruises. This brute could probably break a few things. Pash'nar had no desire to break anything on his person tonight. He scowled and tossed his broken bottle in Bones' direction, not aiming for his face so much as his chest, "I'm on your side, y'giant vagik." As if there were sides, of course, but it was worth a shot. A pale-horned head tilted in the direction of scattering patrons, noting a few of them were crawling over the bar in their general direction instead of running away, "Ain't like they're all done with ya." The shard of moonlight winked coyly with a toss of sea-foam hair, hoping his thrown bottle hadn't been offensive and his few words were enough to change the larger man's course away from bodily harm on his part. He attempted to side step the charging man, elbowing the closest patron across the side of his head, tall as the ethaefal was when compared to most. The patron dropped his entire bottle of alcohol across the floor with a crash, staggering into a table and knocking the small decorative lantern off it's surface. It hit the floor with the tinkling of broken glass, oil mingling with the cheap rum and reviving the sputtering flame that had been on the wick into something much angrier and sudden. Bright orange burst from the floor and a few people who were still paying attention shouted in surprise. The moonlit sailor finished kicking the man he'd smacked before the flames ignited around him, eliciting a series of blush-worthy swarthy curses to escape from his too-perfect lips as he scrambled backwards, hoping not to catch himself on fire in the process. Maybe it was time to leave.