The Spectacle of the Century

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Log Info

  • Summary: Several of Alexandria's best and brightest (and Skyler!) come together for drinks, challenges, and a spectacle of the centure!

The Ox-Strength

Known for it's questionable 'chicken' wings (totally false rumour), strong ale and regular table clearing brawls, the tavern is quite popular with seasonal workers and others who live hard lives and do hard jobs.

Luckily, the place is calm. The cold keeps some of them at home, and the sailors have gone, trying to beat another winter storm out of the harbour and into the Inner Sea to the south.

And the brawl's already been had, the broken table removed, and fresh sawdust laid down to sop up the blood.

Rose is tending bar this evening, the woman known for her hard-nosed attitude, and willingness to wade into a brawl, wielding a two-handed hammer. She talks amicably with a few older customers at the bar.

Off to one side, by the pot-bellied stove that keeps the place from freezing, is a Goblin. Sat in one of the comfortable chairs by the stove, she's removed her boots, tiny feel resting on the side of the stove. Her expression seems to indicate she enjoys the heat, though perhaps it is taking her attention from the bruised cheek and slightly bloodied nose she sports.

And Thurid is a regular! She particularly enjoys the curries, and has never once asked if the goat meat is really goat. She makes her way in from outside, dusting the snow off her hair and shoulders and then casts a glance around. She gives a broad, gap-toothed smile. "Looks like I missed a scrap." she says to no one in particular, before heading further into the pub. She spies Murder over there, and offers the Goblin a wave before ordering herself a bowl of brown and a pint of stout at the bar.

Skyler Skywalker, (Ex)Sky Pirate and Adventurer Extraordinaire, looks a little rough for wear this fine afternoon. Little surprise, considering he was up late after a mysterious and deadly attack by white raven plushies of unusual size. Not exactly an unusual occurrence in Alexandria, perhaps, but a first for the newly arrived adventurer, and all the more stressful due to his lack of emotional support witch-man. Hard to sleep when you've got a stuffie in the corner of your room that, in hindsight, you aren't 100 percent sure won't come to life and try to eat you.

And so into the Ox-Strength he comes, doffing his knit hat with the ear flaps and pink puff, the matching bifurcated mittens, and tucking them all into his belt solemnly. To the bartender, he asks, "Do you have oat milk? With some dwarven whiskey?"

Alec steps into the place behind Thurid, a cold winter chill pushing past him into the room. At first glance, he barely stands out from the rough crowd of the tavern; his armor is battered, a sidearm hangs at his waist, and he is clearly attired for battle, not longshoring. He's much smaller than the giantborn woman, and probably barely worthy of note.

Still. He moves with confident ease to a table near the door, unaccompanied by any companion. He sits with a soft thud, armored skirt banging hard wood. "Ale, for me." He voice rings, imperious and commanding, though he backs the demand up with a coin tossed to the surface of his table.

The Goblin offers a wave to Thurid, a toothy grin on her face. "Yes, you're out of luck! But they had to carry the other guy out. Took three men ta do it, too!" Rose seems less impressed by this, grunting her disapproval. The stout is quickly poured for the Jotunblooded. The bartender calls out something to the kitchen, and nods to Thurid. "Give it moment."

Rose simply stares at Skyler. "Do you think oats have teets to milk?", she wonders skeptically. Alec's order is heard, and delivered, by a serving girl, who'd been sweeping nearby.

Thurid casts a skeptical glance of her own at Skyler when he asks after oat milk, "Never heard of that, but they do barley water cordials at the Fernwood." she says then. Pauses a moment, looking at him still, asessingly, and grins again. She gives him a slap on the back, "I know that look. First big job?" she ventures. "Don;t worry, you get used to the sights and the smells, eventually." she says. She takes her stout and takes a swig, and the steaming bowl of mystery stew when it arrives and heads over to where Murder is sitting.

She sits across from the Goblin, "Nose looks busted." she observes. "Want me to set it for you?" she asks, and makes a pinching motion with two of her meaty fingers.

A tall sith-makar, in his mind, shuffles into the tavern as well. The short makari's glaive was still burning bright as he steps in; and the cloak is quickly shrugged off snow, leaving tis owner shivering in audible distaste. "Why does it need to cling upon my skin?" Aelwyn let out before he gives his head a firm shake and also steps towards bar and Thurid. "Hero!" He greets, with a wide flash of his teeth. Then he looks towards the others, "Shortie!" He was apparently in good mood. "How is the curry today?"

Bryn has arrived.

Alec's brows lift as he overhears the nearby conversation, bright eyes turning without any sort of contrived subtlety to the discussion. His mouth twitches into a wince, probably as he imagines having one's nose set in that fashion. His snort is amused.

The serving maid gets a pleasant nod and a sideways glance at her backside as she passes before he gives a sort of vaguely amused half-smile and drinks from his mug. He swallows, wipes the thin foam away with the back of one hand, then calls, "I'd be more worried you'd put a second break in there, looking at your arms." This seems directed to Thurid.


Skyler says, “No! You sorta..." And Skyler mimes crushing the oats together, wringing them out, before he just sort of trails off, blinking pale grey-green eyes and reaching up to scrub his face with the artful reddish brown stubble. "You know what. Never mind." He shakes his head sadly, "Just an ale."

And then squeaks when Thurid slaps his back, bracing himself on the bar front. "Oof. Not quite first job, just first time dealing with murderous stuffies." He says politely, and perks when Aelwyn shows up, jerking his thumb towards the pint-size powerhouse, "He was there! Hi! You remember me?" He greets with a broad grin, "I'm the one that tossed the little guy onto the brazier and then threw it! Didja take one of the stuffies they offered? Pleased to report mine at least hasn't come alive and kill me." He pauses to consider, and adds, "Yet.”

Murder is quick to clamber into Thurid's lap, presenting her nose for ... adjustment. "Sure thing!" She settles down cross-legged. She shivers a little, and pulls her furs in closer.

The Goblin eyes Aelwyn for a moment, and then in answer to his question, she lets out a noisy and lengthy fart. "It's pretty spicy tonight. I don't think a mere mortal can handle it."

The serving maid nods to Alec in reply, and wanders away with her tray in hand. Meanwhile, Rose, the barkeep, simply shakes her head. "The usual patrons of this establishment don't go for such things. The drink regular milk, the sort you get from cows. We do have hot oatmeal, if you prefer?" As she talks, she pours an ale for Skyler, and sets it in front of the man.

The weather outside may be frightful, but inside it's so delightful.

Well, alright, it's the Ox. So it may be relative levels of delightful, but it's not snowing in here. And it's warmer. And, most importantly, there's ale in here. The door opens firmly and shuts the same after Bryn pushes herself inside. "Ale!" she pre-orders as she heads for the bar.

Thurid chuckles at Skyler's response, "That's been happening lately." she says with a nod. "One of my first jobs, I got attacked by man-eating ewes and my friend was turned into a sheep. Couldn't look at Mutton the same way for months." she says with a grin. She lifts her bowl and mug out of spill range as Murder crawls all over her, and then sets them down on a side table before reaching out to pinch the bridge of the goblin's nose.

She looks over to Alec, "I'll have you know setting bones and stitching cuts is an important part of my day. And it helps to have a little meat on your bones if you're relocating oruch gladiator's shoulders on a regular basis." she says. And then, without warning, there is a tug and a crunch on Murder's nose as she sets it back in place. And then the gobber is farting, and Thurid is shoving her, "Oy! Don't fart on my lap when I'm about to eat you little bugger!" she complains.

GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (15)+15: 30

GAME: Murder rolls con: (9)+con: 9

GAME: Murder rolls constitution: (20)+6: 26

Alec's hands lift, palms out towards Thurid in a gesture of peace and a acceptance. "As you say." Perhaps he was going to say more, but the Jotun woman chooses that moment to crack the offending piece of cartilage back into place. The crunch fills the space where words usually go, and he openly winces, face a grimace.

Still. Alec seems to recognize skill where he sees it, and his brows lift, bright blue eyes moving over the gobbo's now-straight nose. ".....and that's what I get for assuming. You've skill, woman." He nods, then lifts his mug in salute before sloshing another swallow back (and partly onto his breastplate as it drips from the corners of his lips.) Idly, his eyes fall to Murder, then the room in general.

Aelwyn turns his head towards Murder, then his nostrils pull inwards. "... this one could have doen without the demonstration." He takes a step away from Hero and her latest occupant. He turns his head towards Skylar then though, and his teeth flash wide. Into a macabre grin; unsettling in fact. "Yes, this one was there." He takes step over and hovers near Skylar.

"This one quite enjoyed the sight of one burning those plushies, Red." He flickers his tongue. "The crimson suit the hair." And the screaming of Pothy, probably. He turns towards the rest though; "This one shall pass on the curry, but who here is dry of throat and desires to drink something thta shall put their throats on fire?"

The (Former) Sky-Pirate is about to explain exactly why he doesn't drink regular milk when Murder makes his point for him. He jerks a thumb towards her, and says grimly, "Regular milk would make that like a spring-time flower." He shakes his head sadly, and says, "Just the ale."

Bryn, a face and, more importantly, a *voice* he recognizes gets a grin from him, and he practically bounces in his seat. "Hey there!" He greets, "Fancy seeing you here! Jarik said there was some sort of Oruch holiday, but I think he just needed a break from the city." Or him. He chuckles at Aelwyn, rubbing his hands together. "I mean, it wasn't as impressive as that one person turning into a freakin' *dragon* and roasting the rest of the plushies, but seemed just natural. They're stuffed toys, right? So should be flammable? I think the horse had a higher body count than me, though. Who knew stuffies would be tougher than zombie gnolls?" That with a wink towards Bryn, his companion on the slaying of said undead gnoll.

"Sky Guy!" Bryn laughs at Skyler as she grabs her drink, then heads his way. After a gulp, bushy brows lift like contorting caterpillars. "Ye fightin more stuff without me? 'N where's that hunk o' halfsy hidin?" She turns her head to pan her eye around in case it's somewhere here. Spyin a few other folks she knows, she lifts her mug in hellos to them.

Murder makes a pained squeak as her nose is 'gently' set back into place, and she makes a surprised gasp as she's suddenly pushed, tumbling off of Thurid's lap. Landing on the floor with a thud, her bare feet stay in the air momentarily, before thudding to the ground.

"So you're saying it's okay to fart in your lap at other times? Duly noted.", she groans.

Her eyes flick to Aelwyn then. "You asked how it was, I gave the best compliment you can for spicy."

aMurder eyes Skyler. "One of the plushies was a vampire. Burnt it to a crisp the other day. It bit me, had to go to the temple of Angoron to get devamped. Those toys can be a real pain in the ass."

The Goblin offers Bryn a wave.

Rather than being Humble, Thurid puffs up at Alec's observation, "I'm Thurid Freeborn, Warrior of Angoron. Tending wounds is but one of my clerical duties." she informs him then, and thumbs towards her chest. "Whether it be consecrating the dead, ritual wrestling, playing the battle drums or serving as itinerant bodyguard." she says then. "And when I'm not doing that, I end up setting friends noses." she adds, and gives the dislodged Murder a poke with her foot for good measure. "I'd rather you didn't fart on me at all, but that might be too much to ask." she taunts back.

She takes another swig of her drink, and cranes her neck to pitch in on the talk about plushies, "I'm a little disappointed I haven't heard any tale of a toy of my likeness stirring up trouble."

Alec's head tilts, and his eyes twitch over to Murder. He looks equal parts disbelieving and shaken. "....pardon me, but did you just say you were bitten by a vampire...plushie?" His head shakes, shortly. "What's this word, plushie? Is it something like a selkie or were-creature? And are they all demonspawn?"

The Sendoran's disturbed expression fades, though, as Thurid speaks. He jerks a thumb at his chest. "Ah! My current job is keeping the hide of a troublesome half-Sil alive, despite her best efforts, and rarely do we sleep in the same inn." Grinning winsomely, he jerks a thumb towards his chest.

"Alec. Alec Versisan, Knight of Peace, bodyguard and, I 'spose, devoted of Kor. Though he doesn't listen to me, and I've never heard him, so, I 'spose that's just on account of maybe Kor's listening and I don't want him killing me in battle."

"Spelldancer?" Aelwyn clicks his tongue, "Ah, she does make quite the impressive dragon, does she not?" He flashes his teeth. "It is a shame she did not find a dragon to perform in her Dragonier play." He takes in a wistful sigh. "But yes, those plushies? The giant ones?" He clicks his tongue and tilts his head, the red ribbons on his horns flop over. "Whomever would make their beaks so sharp?" He runs his hand across his exposed stomach; as always, covered in scars. "Fire seemed to be only proper excuse for them."

The Dragoon glances towards Murder, and then holds out her hand. "Perhaps; but this shan't be making such noises in this polite copmany adn establishment." He flashes his teeth. "This one prefers to get the fire drinks flowing first." Then he glances at the others. "What is with this influx of plushies as of late?"

"Oh shit! A *vampire* plushie? Ours were just of unusual size." Skyler sounds disappointed, before shaking his head, "But they were still feisty." In regards to flatulence, he shrugs one shoulder, "I mean I've heard in some cultures it's considered polite to belch after eating someone's food. Isn't a fart just a belch from the other end?"

He then turns to Bryn and shrugs the *other* shoulder. "I dunno. Said there was some traditional holiday of his people and he had to celebrate it in the woods or something." He spreads his hands, "I admit, I was a little distracted by someone with weird toes. Should be back in time for our next job, maybe? And I got bored and took some easy job from the Adventurer's Guild." He squints, and nods to Aelwyn, "It does seem kinda weird, right? I mean, I've seen mechanical toys and stuff, but those were definitely enchanted. Why go to all that trouble to menace a bunch of shitty merchants?" Beat. "OH! I'm Skyler. Skyler Skywalker. Or Sky Guy, apparently."

The Goblin's maw opens and she gnaws at Thurid's big toe as it pokes at the supine woman. "Well Aelwyn asked, so it's his fault!" She grins then. "I think people would be scared of giant plushies coming to life..." Her grin widens. "Especially if they come with equally giant hammers."

Her gaze goes to Alec. "Uh... it's a stuffed animal. You know? Like a doll, but softer, and usually animals, but this batch is of well known people."

Murder reaches for Aelwyn's hand, and before one can blink, she's climbed up his arm and settling upon his head. Where she eyes his horns.

A little finger points at Skyler. "The sky guy gets it!"

Regarding farts, that is.

Bryn shoots the gobber a grin, almost asks Skyler about weird toes, but is ultimately distracted by Thurid. "Ey. Reminds me. Owe ye some wrasslin. Right?" While waiting on a response, her attentiont flits again, now to Alec. "Kor!" She steps his way, leading with an extended left arm while her other, the mechanical one, holds her mug.

"He 'elps those't help themselfs! 'N crack skulls in His name. Brynhildragar of Da Broken Tusks. Friends call me Bryn. Enemies call me 'Oh shite!' 'n other stuff. Then some of the discussion finally seeps in and she wonders aloud, "Wassup with alla toys revoltin, anyways?"

Thurid oys again as her toe is gnawed on, and with a wiggle of her foot she dislodges the goblin. She laughs at Alec's reaction to the vampire plushies, "Welcome to Alexandria!" she calls over, as that seems to be all the explanation she feels is necessary. "Ah you're a bodyguard too? It's a noble profession, if often thankless." she says and nods her head. "And the troublesome companions are usually the most fun, no?" she muses.

Bryn speaks up, and Thurid nods along with her sentiment. "He hears you, even if you don't know it, and he's always been more for action than words. When you hear the blood pumping in your ears and the sweat running down your spine in the heat of battle, and you find a well of strength for one more swing? That's him speaking to you." she assures.

Alec reaches into a long pouch suspended beneath one arm, cunningly hung from a leather strap looped into an epaulet. A slim pipe is withdrawn, and he idly begins tamping something into its bowl with the pad of a gloved thumb as he speaks. "So...a doll?" He shudders. "Never liked dolls. They creep me out. Moreso if they can talk and are demonspawn and can infect you with some illness."

Like its some automatic gesture, he takes the offered arm clasping it it strongly, the entire thing very ritualized on his end. "Kor watches and judges our prowess, friend!" He closely marks Bryn's face, and offers her a pleasant nod.

The stem of the unlit pipe is used to point to the room in general, then points back to Thurid. "Indeed. Generally, I'm told that I'm too paranoid or cautious. Is there any such thing in a world filled with evil, bitey dolls that look soft and inviting?"

Aelwyn put his hand on his hip, gesturing. "Ah, the merchants with berries attacked by person of fiendish delusions, toys out to murder merchants - what else will happen in this cursed white?" He then quickly shoots a glance towards Thurid. "Except for the hot room, Hero. That was a blessing to this town." He flashes his teeth.

When introductions are being made, he makes a more grandiouse bow. "Aelwyn, a Dragoon of the Order of the Cockatrice, and the one who dances with fire." He offers a toothy grin, "And this one must say-" He was about to continue, until the goblin scurries over his head and eyes his horns. "-tch, have we not discussed this?" He says whilst regaining his balance, attempting to fish Murder out of his horns. "This one has coated his horns with inedible lacquer!"

"I'm told I'm not paranoid or cautious *enough* frequently." Skyler says cheerfully, with an utter lack of anything approaching thoughtfulness or self-reflection in his eyes as he takes a deep drink of his ale, not noticing the momentary moustache of foam. "But, like, why worry? Life's about adventure and fun, y'know? You can't change yesterday, and tomorrow is just another today waiting to happen, so live in the moment!"

He then begins to try and lick the foam off his lip, before giving up and wiping it off. "I plan on hollowing out my doll, putting it in the corner of our room, and scaring my best friend when he returns from the woods." He says cheerfully, "And then afterwards, it can be an armor stand! Who doesn't want a giant plush raven for an armor stand?" Beat. "Although I might get some magic user to check it over first. Who knows what would happen if it came to life with me inside it?"

Murder grins at Thurid, and looks between the JOtunblood and Oruch. "Hmmm, do I bet on the bigger woman, or the one with the cool mechanical arm?" Her grin widens. "Or do I take them both on and win?" Cackling ensues.

She clings to Aelwyn's horns as he attempts to dislodge her, biting at his hands if they get in range. More giggling is had, before she jumps from the Sith's head, grabs one of the rafters and pulls herself up.

She sits, her feet swinging back and forth. "I think what we're seeing is some demonic influence affecting the toys."

"That I do!" Thurid calls back to the woman, then, "Any time!" she grins. "But don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a slight little thing." she teases the half-oruch woman with another broad grin. She turns her attention Sky's way, and nods approvingly, "Only one life to live, so may as well live it!" she agrees. "At least, for most folks." she adds after a moment'

Bryn gives Alec a firm armclasp before releasing it to gulp down more of her drink. A mouthful she -almost- struggles with when Thurid comments. She hastily swallows before bellowing out a "Ha! Ain' no one goin easy on no one." Then she lifts her mug in agreement at the rest of it. "Ye! Yesterday's gone, 'morrow might never show up! Do all ye wanna do today!" That might be why she goes back to gulping to empty her ale.

"Ahhh... If'n ye scare 'em," she adds to Skyler, "I wanna 'ear all about it!" For historical purposes, of course; she'd never tease Jarik about something like that.

Alec blinks towards Aelwyn. "....but what happens when your horns grow?" He looks up, towards the tips of Aelwyn's horns. "Do you just apply lacquer one a week, or some such?" He seems to consider this, blinking in though before he realizes he's staring. He reaches up to touch the mark at his neck, securing the thick cloak, lined with wolf fur, around his neck. "A fellow sworn fighting man, then. A pleasure."

Skyler gets a /look,/ dubious and vaguely horrified. "I couldn't sleep, with some creepy, soft doll thing watching my sleep. I'd keep itching to stand and drive a sword into it."

His eyes cast back to Murder, and he seems a little unsure of what to think. Thurid's word, though, ultimately grab his attention. "Nor should you. Kor doesn't care if you're big or small. Kor only cares if you are the victor, and if you fight well."

The Goblin runs along the rafter, and soon drops down upon Alec's table with a thud that belies her weight. "No. Kor does not care if you win or lose. He only cares if you fight! He is War, for War's sake." She hops down from the table, and moves to fetch her boots, stepping back into them and turning, fishing a coin out of a pouch at her belt. "Catch!", she hollers at Rose, and flings a gold coin to the woman. Who does not catch it, and runs around behind the bar trying to keep it from rolling somewhere difficult to fish it from. There are a few ... unsavory comments about Murder, her parentage and Goblins in general.

Murder offers a jaunty salute, before she runs for the door, slamming it behind her.

It's only after she's gone when the smell hits. Like spicy, burning... gas. She's cropdusted you all.

Aelwyn seemed to glow brighter when attention was lavished upon him - or maybe it was just nth sense, causing him to stand _just_ so for his viewers. "Naturally, Azure," He addresses Alec, "Or does one not tend to their hair when it grows?" He runs his hand along his own mane of quills, then gestures at his exposed scales. "Nor scrub one's flesh with soap?" He flickers out his forked tongue at the man. "Kin require plenty of hands-on care, too."

Returning to the other conversation, he makes a clicking sound again. "Ah, but the floor is clean, why not wrestle here and now? For is it not the ethos to live and die today, and not tomorrow?" He twists his lips - and then watches Murder filng herself off and out. "... this one requires that drink."

Thurid shakes her head in amusement at Murder's antics, and then her nose screws up in complaint. "That little shit..." she grumbles, though she seems only half serious. She shrugs at Aelwyn's suggestion, "I'm game, if you are." she says to the other woman. "I'll even give you a fighting chance." she adds, then, and unbuckles the belt around her middle. Without the girdle of strength she usually wears her muscles deflate- but only a little, most of it is natural. And she hangs the belt over the back of the chair she'd been sitting at as she raises her eyebrows in challenge Bryn's way.

Alec waves a hand. "Well. I probably care more about the winning bit, it's true. But I like my hide attached, so I care quite a bit." And then the gobbo is off. A moment later, his nose wrinkles as he gets wind of the stench. ".....hmm." The comment is disapproving, but he says nothing more. on the topic.

His attention drifts back to Aelwyn, and he offers a short nod of agreement. "Oh, I meant no offense. Only..I've never considered the practicalities of horn care, until now, is all."

He looks, then, between Bryn, Aelwyn, and Thurid, turning in his chair. The pipe is ignited with a tinderstick, and he puffs softly as he watches, wordlessly but intently.

Bryn was about to order another drink, but then Aelwyn brings up a VERY good point. One that Thurid echoes, and even raises. to a challenge. "Ey! Yer on!" She sets her empty down on the bar and proceeds to pull off the fur wraps on her arms and legs; they didn't empower her at all, it's just better wrasslin without so many layers.

She rotates her head, stretching neck and shoulders to limber up. "Hear this place has all kinda drunken brawls, anyways. Betcha they not mind a better show, eh?" She gives Thurid a tusky grin and a wink. Or maybe that was a blink, since there's not really any difference for her. "Ain gotta go easy on me. 'N ye better not."

Thurid downs what's left in her own mug of stout and then sets it down as she rises from the seat. She rolls her shoulders and her neck in a similar fashion, and her lips part into a bright, gap-toothed smile. "Wouldn't dream of it." she insists then, as she drops down into a low wrestler's stance, hands up and open, one of them turning to beckon Bryn to make the first move as she paces towards the middle of the bar.

The patrons know well enough when to pull their seats up and sit back to watch a scrap and when to join in, so the pair of them readying to square off get a few glances and a long-suffering sigh from Rose behind the bar, "Break anything you buy it!" she reminds them, and goes back to wiping glasses with an already dirty rag.

During the hubbub, Skyler had excused himself for a moment to deal with the call of nature. Unlike a certain chaos-goblin, he was discreet about it. Surprisingly so, considering he doesn't seem like the type to give a hell about propriety, but there may or may not be a tutor somewhere in the Myrrish countryside that was a wicked hand with a switch that was in charge of teaching a young Skyler proper manners.

He returns and glances around, "Where's the little goblin? Is she in the rafters waiting to pounce?" Beat. "I *like* her."

He motions for a refill of his ale, and glances around. "So what'd I miss?"

Aelwyn flashes his teeth in wide grin. "Ah, shall this one bring out the oil, shall it be raw?" He asks from the wrestlers, before he goes and orders himself that fireball. The draconian turns his head towards Skyler, and then moves to wrap his arm around the man. "The spectacle of the century," He says, "In one corner, Hero of the Angels, the free'er of the Phoenix," And then towards Bryn. "And in the other, the man who stared against the void, and stuffed her hand into it."

The mention of Murder makes Aelwyn wrinkle his nose. "Shortie ran off somewhere abruptly. She has a habit." He takes a sip from his own very strong and foul smelling drink. Hey, at least it had a bit of fire going on it.

Spectacle of the Century. That has a nice ring to it. It probably is not, really, but Bryn likes the sound of it. The introductions were even better, thanks to the eloquent Aelwyn. She takes a deep breath, wherein she is reminded of gobber cropdusting.

She snorts with a frown, takes a smaller inhale, readies herself. Bryn locks her eye on Thurid, crouches some to lower her center of gravity, and then lunges for her opponent. "For Kor!" Looks like no oil for this cooking.

"Raw is law, some say." Skyler says cheerfully, even before he quite knows what's going on. As Aelwyn throws an arm around him, the sky pirate returns the favor, grinning broadly, "Well, my money's on Bryn. She strikes me as the type that fights dirty, and we murdered undead gnolls and a necromancer together. Sorry, Hero of the Angels."

He pauses, and adds, "But the real winner is going to be the people in the audience that have a thing for muscular women stepping on them, right? Back when I was part of a pirate crew, the Gnomish air ship mechanic I was briefly apprenticed under had a thing for that."

And then they're off! And he hoots, "Bite her face, Bryn! BITE HER!"

GAME: Bryn rolls cmb: (9)+6: 15

Thurid smirks, and casts a brief glance Skyler's way, but then returns her gaze to her opponent even if she's responding to him. "Now I don't mind a little biting, but only if we're real friendly." she retorts.

Thurid laughs as Bryn rushes in towards her- not a hint of mocking, just the simple joy of exertion- and she reaches out to catch the other woman's hands. She steps into her space, and sticks her leg out before dragging Bryn across it, using her own leg in an attempt to trip Bryn and send her sprawling to the deck. She's as strong as she looks, and apparently the ritual wrestling that goes on at the temple of Angoron isn't just for show- she's breaking out proper wrestling moves as she tries to toss Bryn to the deck using her own momentum.

GAME: Thurid rolls cmb: (9)+11: 20

"Tch, but flesh does not polish as well as scales," Aelwyn cilcks his tongue, "This one worries for the look of their bruises tomorrow!" He then looks at Skyler. Then points a finger at the handsome, perhaps empty, man. "No stepping was mentioned, except by Sky." He flickers his tongue teasingly. "Be careful of whom one raids verbally."

The Dragoon was fully confident in Thurid - not that Bryn was no slouch, but the draconian had seen whta the giantborn has gone through. He grins in a wide, macabre fashion. "Tch, friend of the skies. For Hero could wrestle demons for days and still return to the fight." He then leans a bit closer towards Skyler. "Eager for a bet?"

Should Skyler take that bet? Probably not. But does he? Hell yes he does.

"Sure! What do you want to bet?" He asks the Sith-Makar with a broad grin and that utter lack of rational thought in his pale grey-green eyes.

Unfortunately for whatever the bet turns out to be for, that's about when Thurad knocks Bryn ass over tea kettle, and he winces before bravely squaring his shoulders. "... She still has a chance! She hasn't declared forfeit yet!" Beat, and he adds, "Plus, bruises aren't *that* bad. I'm sure there's a cleric or healer or something out there that would be happy for the practice?"

Much of this could could be as psycological as it is physical (and, for these two, theological!). Thurid's response to Skyler cracks a tusky grin on Bryn even as her hands are caught; its a quip she'd make (and maybe has) herself. Maybe that lapse in focus is why she doesn't notice, and brace against, the low leg fast enough.

The oruch is swept off her feet to land on her third point of contact, though this is only the first move and counter-move. Now not on her legs, she uses them to reach out for Thurid's to try and return the favor.

GAME: Bryn rolls cmb: (16)+6: 22

Bryn's sweep manages to catch Thurid's legs right as she's gloating about her own successful trip, and it's enough to take them out from under her. She twists as she falls so that she can land on her side and immediately roll in to begin the ground game which everyone knows is what wrestling is all about really. She reaches out to try and snatch one of Bryn's arms, and pull it against her body while her legs lock around it, to twist the limb uncomfortably and gain a little control over the Oruch's posture.

GAME: Thurid rolls cmb: (8)+11: 19

Aelwyn was about to respond, before he hears the second crash. There's a momentary pause. "This one was about to suggest something else, yet with the light of the new odds - one owes this one a either a wrestling match, or duel of blades." He tilts his head back and finishes off his drink, turning his head aside. He exhales out the flame off the drink's top in a tiny 'puff'.

Then he pats Skylar on the chest. "Now what should this one wager?" Meanwhile, he shouts at Thurid. "Do not lose before this one finishes the bartering, Hero!"

"HA! Get'r!" Skyler hollers at Bryn as she actually manages to land the trip, grinning broadly before blinking as the pat on his chest gets his attention back to the dragonkin dragoon. "Huh? Oh." His lips thin as he starts to consider the options, before his eyes glaze over and a faintly pained expression crosses his face. Too much thought! Not enough vibe!

"We can dual if you want!" He finally says, after a moment to let his overheated brain catch up, a broad grin slowly starting to stretch his mouth, "Unless you got a better idea! I'm a little tight on money, until after an upcoming job."

Thurid has some (or maybe alot of) experience on the oruch: Bryn's 'wrasslin' time has been informal and maybe not as devout doctine as the Giantborn's. On the other hand, she and her opponent are in the same weight class, even if Thurid has a head on her. That's something the oruch is used to growing up with her clan, maybe less so for her opponent? "Y'ain' so bad," she grunts. "Fer'n Angorite."

Her arm is pinned with the other woman focused on it... but that means Bryn knows where she's focused. Instead of just trying to pry the arm free, she again defers to her legs, crunching up to try and lock them around Thurid's torso and possibly roll them both to put her opponent at the disadvantage. It's not a matter of them being tangled, but who's in control of whom.

GAME: Bryn rolls cmb: (16)+6: 22

And Bryn is inseed able to wrest control of the grapple from Thurid- she's rolled over, and the new position makes it hard to grip the arm which is eventually slipped from her grasp. She blows a puff of air to dislodge some hair and floor-sawdust stuck to her cheek and then laughs at the Oruch woman. "You're pretty spry yourself for a Korite." she retorts, as she contorts to try and resist the legs locking around her, eventually attempting a full reversal of her own so that they're head to toe rather than face to face.

GAME: Thurid rolls cmb: (11)+11: 22

Aelwyn watches Skyler go through the difficult process of parsing independent though - and at the very end, he resists the urge to prod the man on the cheek to make sure he was still alive. "... fine, then we shall wrestle with the flames!" He declares, and then pings the barkeep for another drink or two. "Worry not of the cost, for a bet is a fair barter."

Meanwhile, the wrestling continues, and Aelwyn was surprised how even the match was. "One can kiss later - the crowd hungers for a victor!"

Mikilos sticks his head out the kitchen door, peering a moment before stepping out, wipeing blood covered hands off with a mostly clean bar rag. Nodding casually to the bar keep, the overly tall elf lean on the end of the bar, watching a few more moents. "Just sparring, then is it?" Aelwyn's words bring a sharp look. "No flames indoors. This place has burnt down enough."

"Wrestle in flames?" Skyler isn't quite sure that was what was originally pitched, but after another moment of consideration that thankfully doesn't end with that pained look, he shrugs one shoulder and reaches for his ale to cool down the brain meat. "Sure, sounds hot."

At Mikilos's arrival and commentary, he actually looks disappointed. "What if it was just a small fire?" He suggests, "Or we do it outside? Maybe the snow wouldn't be so bad if we're on fire."

He winces as Bryn loses control of the grapple again, muttering, "C'mon, Bryn, don't disappoint me!"

"Ha!" For the first time in the match, Bryn has the advantage. "Now I gotch-Ahh!" Her advantage is short-lived as she wasn't expecting Thurid to spin herself 'round head over heels to leave her staring at the other's knees. Well, at least that counters the dragoon's taunt about kissing, right? And, no, despite the early calls, she doesn't resort to biting.

Bryn just goes for what's in front of her, trying to pull herself around or past Thurid's legs so she can try and get herself back on top and in control. She's a little too busy to mind the talk of wrasslin in fire or ice at the moment.

GAME: Bryn rolls cmb: (6)+6: 12

Thurid grunts and works to get a hand under herself to better control her position on the ground, and as Bryn goes for her legs she lets out a triumphant laugh- apparently she was expecting and hoping for this in presenting them as a target. She makes an attempt to hook one leg around Bryn's neck and took the foot under the crook of her other knee and squeeze, trying to choke the other woman out. "You can tap out any time!" she taunts, still grinning broadly.

She does spare the observers a roll of her eyes, "Save that for the red pen!" she retorts.

GAME: Thurid rolls cmb: (8)+11: 19

Aelwyn turns his head towards Mikilos. "Ah, but this one would never do such a thing intentionally, Wizard! Why Sky does, this one has no control over! And whyfor, is the Wizard bloody in the kitchen?" Though he makes a face at the mention of snow. "Let us not speak of the white curse."

His focus returns onto the wrestling match proper and he grins broadly. "There is no shame in admitting to a great, flashy defeat!" He calls out to Bryn.

Bryn grits her teeth and flexes her neck once she realizes she's been caught by Thurid Thighs... or rather between one and the same calf. She struggles for a few seconds to fight against the looming blackout and finally taps out by slapping her left hand on the floor several times. Better to be able to get up and walk after rather than being dragged, right? Probably easier for everybody else, too.

Mikilos waves vaguely in Skyler's general direction. "What you burn down outside is Outside's problem." Another look to Aelwyn. "Because someone didn't listen.... and tried to butcher an owlbear before bleeding it properly." Glancing to the wider audience the wizard raises his voice. "Fresh owlbear steaks in about an hour! You want a specific cut, order before it's sold out!" Not that any given part is likely to sell out fast, but a little salesmanship never hurts.

Thurid accepts the tapout, releasing Bryn before she does any permanant damage, and rolling out from under the other woman. She springs to her feet and pumps her feet in the air, sweeping some sweat-plastered hair from her eyes before turning back to offer her hand to helpn Bryn up. "Well fought!" she says then, "You nearly had me!" she adds without a hint of condescension or malice.

Whether or not Bryn accepts the hand to her feet, Thurid will grab one of Bryn's hands to lift it into the air, because a good fight is a victory for both competitors. "A round of drinks on me!" she bellows out to the whole tavern.

"I bet on you." Skyler informs Bryn with a faintly disappointed sigh, shaking his head slowly. He isn't mad, just disappointed in the Oruch woman. And to Aelwyn, he grins. "Honestly, man, I don't even know why I do half the stuff I do." He admits cheerfully, "It usually makes sense in the moment, but then Jarik, my best friend, sits me down and tells me why I shouldn't have done or said what I did and it makes sense." He mimes an explosion off his forehead, "It's like *magic*."

When fresh owlbear steak is mentioned, he perks up. "Ooo! Steaks? I should get Jarik some! And maybe some eye of round for jerky. I'm running low on trail rations."

Bryn may like to win, but she's not a sore loser. She takes the offered arm up. "Yer damned good. First good wrassle I've had 'ere!" Then there;s a free round of drinks. If she had any annoyance at losing, it vanishes in an instant. "Ye!" After that, she sends a smirk Skyler's way. "Ain' nothin wrong with that. Green's always a good bet!"

Aelwyn erupts into whistles and claps, as Bryn is hoisted up in the air. "A fine fight, a fine wrestle!" He calls out, grinning widely. Then he turns towards Skyler, flickering his tongue. "This one is not certain what were bet upon, but this one believes Sky owes this one a match. _Perhaps_ in fire," He rolls his head meaningfully towards Mikilos, "But perhaps after these steaks." He bumps the man on the side. "Do not consider it excessively." He walks over the bar with a flick of his tail.

Mikilos steps away from the bar as a fresh round of drinks is served out. Helping out, he'll do. Serving drinks, generally not. He looks to the formerly fighting females, nodding to both. "Looked like a good match. Brought on by anything in particular?"

Thurid laughs, "You should visit the temple of Angoron. Anyone is welcome to join the matches! Celebrating the strength and beauty of physical struggle is not only for our faithful." she offers Bryn, before bringing her mug back to the bar to get it topped off with a fresh drink and to put some coins down to cover everyone else's next round of drinks. "Or the Coloseum." she suggests a moment later before heading on over towards Aelwyn and Sky, she gives Aelwyn a clap on the shoulder. "Maybe we ought to go a couple of rounds some time, eh?" she suggests.

She looks Mikilos's way, and shrugs, "Just a little friendly rivalry between Angoron and Kor writ on the material." she says.

Bryn grins wide and tusky at Thurid. "Any day! Always up fer a good tussle. The watchin ain' 'alf bad, neither." She may have swung by the temple before, once or twice. Then she turns to confirm with a nod to Mikilos. "Ye, we's just havin a theological discussion." Back to Thurid. "Like the Colosseum, too. Next round's on me. Tusslin 'n drinkin're two of my three fav'rite things."

Skyler opens his mouth, apparently about to say something clever, but stops as he glances around the tavern. "I feel like I'm forgetting something." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck before suddenly his eyes widen. "Oh, shit!"

And without clarifying any further, he throws the money to cover his tab onto the bar, and abruptly sprints for the door. Leaving it a mystery what he forgot.

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