• Open • This is the Fight that Never Ends

[Zunylanih]

"Dialogue"

65th of Vhalar: Brawl of a Lifetime!

Rharne suddenly finds itself in the grips of a brawl the likes of which have never been seen before. Petyr Finch and Damien Carne get into a little late-break bust-up over unfettered accusations of intentionally spilling a cup of ale within the recesses of the Copper Prince. However, as tensions remain high across the city in the knowledge of the attacks on Storm's Edge, soon other members of the nearby area intervene... spreading the fighting from all the way in the slums of the Dust Quarter to the pristine streets of the Glass Quarter, and some whisper of it travelling beyond even that! Almost the entire day is lost in open melee, with participants often grabbing anything nearby to add to the calamity. By the time the Lightning Knights have successfully intervened, it's estimated that thousands of nel have been lost, and businesses are successfully reimbursed from the fines issued as a result.

There was a tremor on the air tonight. Dura could feel it. Fury untapped that had been unleashed, rolling like an unstoppable wave through the streets and breaking out into the very depths of all four quarters of Rharne. He didn't know a single word of common, but he understood the language of fury, being intimately familiar with his patron's lady's domain.

He could feel it within himself. A latent restlessness that just begged for the chance to flare out, to strike out at the slightest provocation. Dura was seated next to his squeaze, Jovita. The Red-headed Quacian harlot who'd traveled with him this far. He still missed Omesintihlih, but the more time he spent out of her orbit, the freer he felt to pal it up with Jovita and others like her. Besides, she was good company, and they shared several interests, not least of which was a proclivity for fucking each others' brains out.

So it was, when one drunken Rharnean began making his chimp noises, in common, that guttural tongue of traders and lowlives, Dura felt something turning deep inside of his asterism. A fury unbound, and untapped, just waiting for the provocation that this drunk was now giving him. He continued to chatter, and bloviate. Until at last he grabbed hold of Jovita's orange hair, and began pointing at it, and snarling like a beast.

Dura decided that was enough. He rose slowly from his chair. The man grappling with Jovita's hair, as she complained loudly and screeched, stepped backward from the tall Dura Elmont. He looked like he'd seen his share of fights, and was aware of his fearsome appearance. But for that, he wasn't much of a fighter. Yet what he lacked in skill, he could make up for in willingness and readiness to unleash chaos.

He grabbed his tankard, and splashed the contents into the man's face, at which he relinquished his hold on Jovita's hair. She stood aside, and began looking for something to throw as the brawl washed over the Earth Quarter, the Harlot 'n' Hound. Dura dropped the tankard, took hold of the stool he had only just been sitting on, and without hesitation threw it at the man who'd dared lay a hand on his girl.

There was a sudden pause, like the calm before a storm. Then the brawl that started in the Dust Quarter, swept over the Harlot 'n' Hound, and all flew into chaos as an unmitigated brawl broke out in that Inn, and out into the streets.

[Balthazar Black]

67 Vhalar 720

Given the amount of time Balthazar had spent drinking and brawling in the last sixty trials, he was certain he and Ilaren would have been fast friends. However he had decided it was time to really commit to helping out with the Flameborn and so Balthazar was preparing to travel back to Storm's Edge on the 67th of Vhalar when he came upon the massive wide brawl that had begun spreading like a wildfire throughout the city. He was carrying a bottle of purple whiskey that he'd tracked down in the Glass Quarter. The Rharnian who sold it to him sneered and said some unkind words about Yaralon but Balthazar didn't care because he'd finally found some damn purple whiskey. He hadn't been able to find any good purple whiskey in Scalvoris, or Viden. He hadn't looked in Melrath and Quacia but that meant that he hadn't had any either so he really wanted it. Balthazar was about half way down the Pilgrim's Ascent when the brawling spilled out onto it and he stumbled back up the steps a little to avoid the fighting.

Nimue materialized beside him, awestruck at the chaos spilling throughout the city and incredibly overjoyed. "Get in there!" She cheered at Balthazar. Her only real desire was for him to move the anchor strapped beside his sword closer to the battling so she could partake. Balthazar shook his head and clutched his bottle of purple whiskey to his chest.

"No. I'm not losing this." He insisted as he began backing up the steps. He realized quickly that he could not retreat up the massive staircase and into the Sky Quarter so he would have to go back down. He needed to get back to The Copper Prince after all so he could drink his treasure. Little did he know that the brawling had originated in the tavern he'd chosen to hang around. Nimue wandered as far down the steps as she could before some unseen power stopped her from moving any further.

"Use your magic! Clear a path Just fight!" Nimue shouted as she banged her fists against the invisible wall holding her back. She turned angry eyes on Balthazar who shook his head. Deep down she knew he couldn't just tear through the fighting with spells. There would be- what did he call them? Consequences. "Then give me my dagger!" She shouted.

"You know that is a bad idea." Balthazar insisted to Nimue's dismay. Her heated gaze shifted to the bottle of purple whiskey in his hand and the two of them seemed to have a realization at the same moment. If the bottle broke, he had no reason not to fight. Nimue's lips twisted into a sinister grin and she reached her hand out towards the bottle- though it was not her hand that Balthazar was worried about. He'd been around her long enough to know how she used her tendrils. A trill later he felt her near imperceptible ectoplasm flying towards him. Balthazar grabbed the bottle by the neck and swung it out of the way of Nimue's grasping tendril. "Hey! Stop that!"

"Chew sand!" Nimue shouted as she ran at Balthazar. The mage groaned and ran at Nimue as well, hurling his bottle of purple whiskey into the air before calling on the wind to roil around the bottle and float it above the ghost's reach while Balthazar figured out how to stop her. Nimue threw a punch that Balthazar slipped past before continuing down the steps into the fighting- the wind keeping his bottle aloft in the air while he ran for a few more trills before lowering into his arms. Balthazar hopped off to the side of the steps and ran through the Earth Quarter in search of familiar ground- the Harlot'n'Hound.

[Praetorum]

Weapons: None

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

Normally, Praetorum would have heard the brawl long before it reached him, would have gone out to investigate with Sneabru and Clarissa as he heard the first shouts.


This trial, though, Prae found himself somewhat occupied. 



"Fek!" There was a round of cheers from the audience at the Bronze Boar as Prae's punch caught his opponent right on the snout, coming perilously close to a set of sharp Thiussum teeth. The other ithecal stumbled, but just for a step, before charging forwards, arm cocking back in preparation for a knockout blow. 



Normally, Prae would have taken the blow to strike back at his opponent, but for the first time in cycles, he was the smaller combatant; his opponent for this round of the tournament was near ten feet tall, with the bulk of a bouncer—which, apparently, she was. 



So instead, Prae shifted his weight onto one foot, and twisted out of the way, grabbing on to his opponent's wrist as her fist narrowly missed his head. A step back had him facing away from her, and he dragged her arm over his shoulder, doubling over as he did so to flip her over his shoulder.


The entire floor shuddered as she landed on her back with a heavy crash, and Prae almost worried for a moment that it might give way, and drop them both into the tavern below. But the building had evidently been built with this in mind, and held steady as the Thiussum wheezed on the floor, trying and to push herself back onto her feet. 



Around them, the audience burst into a mix of cheers and groans and shouts of encouragement for both fighters, even a few playful threats from those who had placed bets. It seemed the only people in the room not shouting were the bartender and Sneabru, seated in a corner with a drink in hand as he watched the fight. Prae and his opponent ignored it all. Their focus was all on each other, and their mutual goal: to win. Prae's opponent rose to her full height, growling softly as she cracked her neck a few times. 



There was a moment of stillness as they locked eyes—


And then she charged, surging forwards with a wordless battle cry—



Which was, naturally, when a chair crashed through the window and knocked her flat on her tail.


There were shouts of anger and confusion, and the bartender hurried to the door and threw it open, presumably to go see what had happened. From his angle, Prae saw him make it two steps down the stairs before he was bowled over by a pair of fighting Rharnians. After that, all Prae saw was chaos as the room erupted into a single massive bar brawl. 



Glancing over at his opponent, Prae saw that she'd gotten up in time to get sucked into the melee, which Prae took to mean their fight was over. His main concern now was...


Missing from his corner, leaving only his discarded drink at the bar. Swearing under his breath, Prae scanned the crowd of fighters, but couldn't catch a glimpse of the smaller ithecal. A spike of panic jolted through Prae, and he tried to reassure himself. He'd probably gone and hid somewhere—that was what Prae had told him to do when large scale fights broke out in Nifleheim. If he got found, though... Prae hoped he'd be calm enough not to just start stabbing.

[Zunylanih]

"Dialogue"



As he let the stool fly into the man he aimed it at, it bowled the attacker over, allowing Jovita to get free of him, where she cowered near the corner of the bar. Meanwhile, Zuny ducked behind the stool he’d previously been seated at.

When it became clear that there was to be a bout of chaos, a bit of unrest, a distraction on a massive scale, Zuny saw his oppportunity. He, in the guise of the vagabond, Dura, decided to slip behind the counter, behind the stool he was sitting on as the fights broke out all around him. Not that he was necessarily afraid of a beating. Far from it. He only saw a golden opportunity that he was going to take here. He cried out to his paramour,

”Jovita, agarra as coisas boas! Ahahahah!”

He grinned to himself as he saw her skirts duck behind the counter, craning his neck over the bar to watch her work, grabbing the best bottles from under the bar.

”Linda menina!”

He cried, as she began stuffing the bottles in strategically placed bandoliers that lined her skirt. He often used her as a mule for his pilfered things, when he was on these sorts of errands. She was a really good girl.

His grin was still pasted on his face as he turned around, and got gob-smacked by a Rharnish lout who thought he looked like a good punching bag.

He took the punch, winced. That would leave a bruise on his illusion, for certain. He threw his own punch clumsily back at him, hitting him on the shoulder, and barely making a dent before the man locked his arm and flipped him over the bar, toward where his girl was tossing bottles in her bandoleer-lined skirt. It took a few moments, but as the ruckus rose in the streets and within the Harlot and Hound, Zuny regained his senses, and began grabbing bottles of cheap beer from behind the bar while the bartender was occupied trying to save the rest of his tavern.

He began throwing these empty bottles at the various brawlers, chuckling darkly as he beaned them with the glass containers. ”Hey!” Said someone in the common tongue. It was the bartender, who noticed the two behind the bar. ”Get out of here! Come ‘ere ya little booze thieves, I’ll show ya what we do with yer kind in Rharne!”

Dura looked to Jovita, and smirked,

Temos a nossa dose aqui, querida. Vamos!

So saying, he took her by the hand and leapt over the counter just as the bartender was getting behind it. And they ran, Dura using his sharp elbows to make his way out toward the exit of the tavern.

It was a good night for a bit of looting and civil disorder.

[Balthazar Black]

67 Vhalar 720

There was hardly anywhere Balthazar could turn where someone wasn't engaged in some sort of brawl. Clutching his bottle of purple whiskey close to his chest, Balthazar weaved beneath the various thrown punches and kicks littering the city with violence. Nimue was never far behind him, but with every foot he delved further into the chaos, Nimue got exactly what she wanted. She threw punches and kicks- manifesting tendril after tendril to fling, pull, hit, and drag whoever was within her reach while Balthazar ran. Well he wasn't running exactly, the fighting was far too dense in the Earth Quarter for Balthazar to really break into a run. It was more like he took three nervous steps, dodged two fighters in their brawl, and took more hasty steps along his way.

He found that the Harlot 'n' Hound wasn't much better off in terms of the fighting. It seemed as if all of Rharne had descended into chaos and what had begun simply as a massive brawl was quickly turning into looting. Thieves took their opportunity to strike in the chaos... and Balthazar must have looked like one of them. Someone blindsided Balthazar, crashing into his side and pushing Balthazar up against the wall of the Harlot 'n' Hound to try and wrench the bottle of purple whiskey out of the mage's hands.

"No!" Balthazar shouted before driving his head forward into the would-be-thief's. No one really won with a headbutt, but since Balthazar had skin like leather and bones like iron, he had discovered he came out of his better than most. His head rung for a few seconds but the thief who'd grabbed his bottle slumped to the ground unconscious. The further down Balthazar went, the worse all of the rioting seemed to be getting... so perhaps he needed to go up again? Balthazar turned the corner of the alleyway he'd been moving through and passed by the entrance of the Harlot 'n' Hound at the wrong time... and Zuny nearly crashed into him.

Nearly. It was still almost impossible to get the drop on the mage and so when he'd sensed Zuny moving through the exit, Balthazar quickly got out of the way. Pressing himself against the wall beside the door while clutching his bottle to make sure it wasn't taken or broken.

[Vyto]

Aclimatization

The sounds of rumble and riot made their way across the streets and eventually reached Vyto. Carrying some groceries for the week back home at the end of one of his rare outings, his curiosity was picked. Leaving the packages inside his home and walking out again, he made his way to the center of the commotion, where a massive all-out brawl seemed to be taking place. Extraordinary. His time on the roads had given sight to all matter of events, but an open brawl, in the middle of such a large city?

Truly Rharne was holding up to its reputation. It would certainly take a while to get used to such a way of life but alas, one would have to make do. Careful to stay a good ways from the edges of the would-be "fighting pits", Vyto listened closely, searching the shouts and yells thrown so carelessly into the hair. He filtered out the unnecessary just long enough to learn that the fighting had started at one of the taverns, something that hardly fazed the surprising. He could see in the midst of the confusion some were already taking advantage of the situation to... acquire some "physical" memories of today, aside from all the bruising of course. Looters were seen leaving the various shops and stands with all matter of stolen goods as the shopkeepers yelled after them, that is, if they weren't busy fighting already. This would be quite the night, it seemed.

As thoughts of leaving for the slightly more calmer location of his new house crossed his mind, so did one of the many people thrown off the crowd. Landing right in front of him, a middle-aged man seemed to have gotten off with the worse part of a square punch to the face. Or was it a headbutt? Hard to say with how disfigured the man looked. Vyto calmly reached out his hand, intent on helping him up to his feet, grabbing him by his clothes as the man was limp for a while before coming back to his senses. Upright and confused he lunged out a blind punch at what he probably assumed to be another assaulter, or at least, that's what Vyto thought. Carefully dodging the man, who ended up punching the wall, he excused himself before retreating away from the ever-encroaching crowd that was now growing into a truly out-of-hands situation.

A slightly muffled sigh escaped his mask. "Another loud night, it seems. Oh well, more time to finish setting up my things, I suppose. Truly, it'll take a miracle to get used to this... 'culture'." Looking back, he couldn't help but wonder what drive these people had to go to such lenghts. Rolling up to his feet, he noticed a small bottle with a familiar liquid inside on the ground. "Ah. How the answer presents itself."

[Zunylanih]

Dura was happily stringing Jovita along behind him. She clinked and clackered as she went, the booze bottles jostling against each other beneath her skirt, where they were hidden. He'd make a good bit of profit from them, and even if not, he could enjoy a nice drink. He couldn't get drunk, afterall, and was perfectly capable of downing an entire bottle of port back in Quacia, when he'd had the opportunity.

He nearly dug in his heels, however, as another man came into the bar. A white-haired man, who Dura instantly recognized, although he hid the recognition slightly, an impromptu act. Pau had been in the same establishment as Balthazar, afterall, but not Dura. Dura clapped Balthazar on the shoulder, pushing his face into his nearly as his wine-smelling breath lingered over Balthazar's face. "Free drink. Go free drink!" Dura chuckled darkly into Balthazar's face, before sliding by, trailing Jovita behind him, who also bumped into Blathazar.

Then, they were off into the streets of Rharne. Unbeknown to Dura, the brawling had spread out into the streets, and across the entire Earth Quarter it seemed. He'd have his work cut out for him if he wanted those bottles intact at the ratty room he was renting. They both made good speed, however, for a pair of degenerates weaving in and out of the crowd of rowdy Rharneans.

Dura took point, punching clumsily at people to try and get them to move out of the way. This had the effect of dazing some, and getting others to make gaps in the crowd, but eventually it was destined to backfire. Dura punched one particularly burly man who was busily clubbing a man with his fists. He hadn't seen how big he was, on account of him crouched over his poor victim. The man rose to his full height, and wiped some blood from his nose. Dura could only gaze upward, about a foot of height this man had over him.

Then, the oaf threw a haymaker at Dura's temple, knocking him easily to the ground. Jovita went histerical, and as soon as the oaf began lowering himself onto Dura, she took out one of the precious bottles, and conked him over the head repeatedly. She smashed and smashed, and drove the broken shards of the bottle into his thick head. This only seemed to have the effect of pissing him off. He took her by the collar of her dress, and drove her into Dura, landing with an 'oof'.

All of the bottles, at that point, smashed beneath her skirt, as they were positively at the mercy of the roving mob. Yet something dispersed their crowding over Dura's poor sack of skin. Eventually, the riot died down, until Dura fell asleep in the smashed puddle of stolen wine and beer.

Lightning rolled overhead as Dura left consciousness. It would be the last time he saw Jovita in Rharne, or elsewhere. He never learned what became of her.

[Balthazar Black]

67 Vhalar 720

The words free drink were certainly enticing but Balthazar had his drink already, he just needed to get somewhere he could enjoy it without people trying to take it or hit him. Plus he had a suspicion that the drinks the unfamiliar stranger was referring him to were free via a five finger discount and not actually free. As quickly as he'd gone into the Harlot'n'Hound, Balthazar found himself turning and moving away from the tavern. Too much fighting, too much- suddenly he felt a fist coming towards him and Balthazar's head bobbed backwards out of the path of the blow. He took a few steps back and bumped into another Rharnian who turned and swung with a wild haymaker that Balthazar ducked beneath. Think fast, keep moving, find an empty spot. It was easier said than done.

As the fight dragged on the unconscious people on the floor began to present as much of an obstacle as the tired fighters running their city wide rampage. The mage was agile and had a nearly perfect sense of everything happening around him due to his attunement and rupturing sparks, but there really was only so much one man could dodge before his foot didn't reach high enough and that was just what happened. He didn't know if he was still in the Earth Quarter or if he'd made his way back down to the Dust Quarter- in the chaos it was hard to tell which direction he was moving but he knew he was moving. His foot caught one of the unconscious bodies on the floor and Balthazar tumbled forward, the bottle of purple whiskey slipping from his grasp.

The moments it was in the air felt like they stretched on forever and when the bottle struck the ground, thank Chrien, it did not break. It rolled away while Balthazar hit the floor with a thud and quickly skittered back up onto his feet while chasing after the rolling bottle of whiskey. It didn't roll far before someone stopped it with their foot and knelt down to pick it up.

"Give that back." Balthazar said in a stern voice as he slowed down and leveled his gaze on the man who'd picked up his bottle and the man's friend standing beside him. He assumed they were friends because they were not trying to beat each other up.

"Finders keepers, get lost." The man said dismissively before his friend tugged on his arm.

"That's the Bloody Prince." He said.

"No it isn't, he's taller ain't he?" The one holding Balthazar's purple whiskey said confidently.

"Give. Back. My. Purple. Whiskey." Balthazar insisted as his hands curled into fists.

"Come and get it."

So he did. He surged forward with a sequence of motions faster than the two Rharnian's could keep up with. Fists moving in a blur, Balthazar battered the man holding his whiskey across the face with five rapid strikes before grabbing the bottle and sweeping the bottle holder's legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard with a bloody nose and a cut above his eye then Balthazar shifted the bottle into his left hand and raised a fist at the other friend who held up his hands in surrender, shouting, "Whoa, whoa, I don't even like that guy."

Balthazar, believing the man, lowered his fist, checked on his bottle again, and then turned to leave only when he turned around the man on the floor's friend tried to tackle him. Balthazar spun, pushing the charging man into the wall head first using his own momentum against him. There was a loud conk and then the other man fell to the floor clutching his head as well while Balthazar took off into the city where the fighting was slowly dying down, just trying to find a good spot to enjoy his drink.

[Pegasus]

Your Review

Zuny

Overview

What an interesting PC - and I have to say I love the way your writing matches the pc's thought processes. However - this thread should have been marked as mature in the first post - that always takes priorities over other topic attributes. Please ensure that you adhere to this going forward. That said, your writing was interesting and very compelling. I enjoyed the fact that I didn't know when you stopped writing Zuny as Zuny and started writing as Dura, but it was seamless and really showed that you have pulled the reader in. Enjoy your rewards!

Points

XP: 15
Renown: 5

Loot

None.

Knowledge

Deception: Provide a distraction to avoid drawing attention to your accomplice.
Endurance: x 4
Pickpocket: Sneak bottles of liquor while there's a distraction.
Stealth: Hide the loot in your girl's skirt.
Combat (Unarmed Combat): Using a mug to give your punches more power.

Balthazar

In this review in February, I took the stance that your CS must have been out of date. It wasn't. When we discussed it your response was that you just wouldn't play Nimue any more.

Since then, there have been Interventions (May 12) after Intervention . (May 31) and Review issues also.

This has taken stupid amounts of time and, frankly, it stops now. Because yes, this is an old thread - but the last post from you was less than a week ago. In it the issues raised in February (and consistently, since) have continued.

If you're not going to put things right or work within the rules, I'm not prepared to spend hours of volunteer time on it. Rather than give a warning, Squirrel put in a deduction of points for you, because we really hate giving warnings. Hate it. But, I hate it less when the player in question has been given every opportunity to put this right and it still continues.

Issues in this thread:
According to her writeup, Nimue has 40 Materialization. At this stage, ghosts can can solidify to a state similar to soft flesh. Nimue seems to have no trouble materializing though, she throws punches and kicks, and she manifests tendril after tendril even though she's only supposed to be able to manifest two tendrils at Competent Materialization. She's a ghost, but people don't really seem to react to that.

This is notice of your first official Warning under the Standing Trials Terms of Use. This game has rules and we expect everyone to follow them - because it is the only fair thing to do.

I suggest you make sure that any threads you submit for review from this moment forward are
a) played appropriate to your skill level and that of the NPCs (eg: the ghost here) and
b) written in a manner which does not seek to bend the game world to your whim (eg: No one notices my ghost, etc).
Please also check any current review requests. The onus is on you, because at this point, you have the choice to escalate this situation or de-escalate it by playing within the rules. You decide.

Prae

I can't award any rewards since you haven't put skills used etc in the request. If you want to - drop me a pm with that, and I'll update the review.

Vyto

I can't award any rewards since you haven't put skills used etc in the request. If you want to - drop me a pm with that, and I'll update the review.