Fight:Bare-Knuckle Boxing in Vailkrin - Xiang v Locals

OOC Background

This is the first RP completed to help establish the feel and flavour of Vailkrin's Bare-Knuckle Boxing Scene.

The Bare-Knuckle Boxing Scene is an initiative of The Eldritch Cabal, but open to all who would find such an event useful for their character's RP Development.

See Alfredo's Night of Delightful Fights - Bare-Knuckle Boxing in Vailkrin for full details.

Somewhere, in an old warehouse within Vailkrin

Cornelius had been spending time re-familiarising himself with his old homeland, and had finally found where the bare-knuckle boxing matches are being held: in an old abattoir refitted as a warehouse. A rowdy crowd has gathered, the air already thick with sweat, smoke, and alcohol fumes. Several matches have already played out, and there would be many more before what passed for 'daytime' in Vailkrin arrived. An old killing pit set deep into the warehouse floor is the default fighting circle, and is painted half in black, half in white. A cage across its ceiling both keeps those fighting from attempting to escape while allowing those watching a fine view of the proceedings. Cornelius, a cloak wrapped around him, has slipped and elbowed his way through the crowd to enjoy the matches and scout potential talent - careful examination shows other 'ruffians' with expensive boots doubtless here with the same idea.

A small man adorned with finely twirled mustachios and goatee, in a scuffed and grimy tuxedo and top hat, calls out in an unexpectedly loud and booming voice "Madames et Messieurs; Gentlemen, Not-so-gentle men, and darling ladies of the night, welcome again, welcome, to Alfredo's night of delightful fights! We have for you now two unknowns, two dark horses! Will they be sent to the knackers or to some nobleman's fine stables? In the white section we have Kane! No name, no history, and no money if his clothing says anything about him! And in the black corner we have Lars, a northman slave who broke his master's least favourite coffee cup. I imagine this will wake the man up! Now, men, entertain us! Let the blood flow! As always the fight does not end until one man does not rise, be it from cowardice, unconsciousness, cripplement, or death. Allez! Commence! Get to it you bastardos!

Fight - Xiang vs Lars

Lars is a large, pale man with a dispassionate look on his face. He has the bulk of his race, but seems to lack the spirit most of his brothers would normally show at such a time. Life as a slave appears to have taken its toll. Still, he looks at the smaller figure before him and clenches his fists. Without a sound he lumbers into a forwards barge, hooking a right haymaker at Kane, hoping to end his own personal misfortunes and gain his master's forgiveness quickly.

Xiang Lao drowns out all of the ruckus that comes with such a gathering of ruffians and shady businessmen. Indeed, among the chaos of the arena the monk seems oddly at ease. Indeed, as the mustachios and goatee having gent calls out, the monk, who has dubbed himself "Kane" for now, looks as if he hasn't had a penny to his name. From the boots on is feet, to the hood that covers his head, all of it is ragged and torn. Tattered even. But as the lumbering northerner makes his straightforward attempt to regain his master's favour, the monk sidestep's the powerful arching attack, and brings his left foot about and his spins upon his heel, sending forth a calculated and precise roundhouse that is aimed for his foe's right cheek. Even though he doesn't look like much, there is incredible power behind the man's actions that would catch most men off guard.

Lars, being a simple-minded fellow, had not even thought of the legs as a weapon. Thus it is that, as he kept an eye out for a counter-punch he is far too slow to react appropriately to the kick. As Lars' look of startled surprise gives way to unconsciousness, Alfredo waves his hands in an Arcane pattern. The cage in the ceiling opens, and Lars is lifted bodily out of the arena as a dust is drawn into a whirling vortex beneath him. The minute and mustachioed Master of Ceremonies then proclaims "Shock! Horror! Le Gasp! The horse named Kane is as dark as the ace of spades, and has dealt a hand to match it! Or should I say a foot? Lars is for the knackers, dear fellows, as his master won't like that performance one little bit!" As Lars finally clears the arena and is hauled off by two burly event attendants, Alfredo calls down to 'Kane'. "Sir, we applaud you, admire you, and entreat you to fight again! Will ye? Nil? Can we see another match?"

Xiang returns to his normal stance, before offering a simple inclination of his head as answer to Alfredo's question.

Fight - Xiang vs Eric

Alfredo smiles at Kane's acquiescence and booms out, voice magically enhanced "Next Challenger, please step forwards! If not for Glory, then for Gold! Show us that your manhood is not just for display!" A rough-looking fellow with dark, shifty eyes, and a scar from old rope burns around his neck steps forward. He mutters "Eric. The gold had better be good." He jumps down lightly into the pit, clothing loose-cut and not showing much of his build, except that the man is lean. He spits on the ground "Come on then, mister fancy kicker. Show me whatcha got."

Alfredo grins as he booms out "Allez! Commence! Paint the floors red!"

Xiang turns his head ever so slightly to the side as the man known as Eric enters the fighting pit. As his opponent utters his challenge, the monk does not wait and this time takes to the offensive. This time he leads with a feint, knowing that his opponent will be expecting a kick or two, Xiang comes in at Eric in such a manner that one would naturally look down towards the monk's legs. But in an impressive display of dexterity, and with surprising celerity, does this martial master once again twist his lean frame about, this time using the momentum and the build up of kinetic energy, to unleash a powerful right handed spinning back-fist towards Eric's left temple. Should the man not find a measurable way to defend himself, he would feel the effects the monk's steel like fist collide with his hopefully exposed cranium in a most swift and vicious manner.

Eric smiles in that fashion that, in a dark alley, would bode a quick and forcible transfer of property. Even as he lands, and the monk moves towards him, a pouch drops into his hand and a spray of glass shards are sent into the path of Kane's approach to make any attempt to kick a painful experience as Eric prepares to force this match into a fist-fight. With glass covering the ground before Eric, fancy footwork for his opponent will be difficult. While the man with the scarred neck is mildly surprised by the spinning backfist, the additional fraction of a moment Kane spent spinning lets him direct an elbow directly into the path of the attacking arm, intending to break or weaken it whilst stopping the strike. No matter what happens there, his simultaneous right-cross is snappy and sharp, powered by a shift of the man's hips, and is aimed directly for Kane's chin.

Xiang is as surprised by the glass shards as Eric is by the spinning back-fist. But the monk is a seasoned fighter, a martial master, and thus does not go into a fight without thinking his opponent is one step ahead of him at all times. This forces the mind to work harder, your body to push past its limits and allow you to use your maximum potential. The brute wasn't green when it came to a brawl. And the look in his eye tells Xiang all he needs to know about his opponent. A killer. You can almost see the blood on his hands. Hear the cries of the victims he has left in those dark allies. He thinks he knows of power, of pain. The monk would teach him differently. By aid of preternatural reflexes, the monk shifts his body is quite the awkward stance to avoid what would have been quite a blow. With his left hand he attempts to take hold of his foe's wrist and use the momentum of Eric's own attack to flip the man over by twisting his hips and pulling the roguish naive down upon the unforgiving arena floor headfirst. Should such an attempt prove successful, Xiang would follow through with a powerful downward blow from his right hand, aimed to cause extensive and permanent damage. If his opponent was to somehow foil this attempt, the monk would rely on swift movements and perhaps a swift attempt upon his foe's outstretched leg to try and cause him to lose his balance, thus creating an opening for him to escape. Either way, Xiang was planning his next move already.

Eric is not so green as to leave an arm out after punching. The moment his elbow strikes the monk's arm, but the cross touches air, Eric's right arm is snapped back to guard, well before the monk can get his left hand to it. Eric starts the slow and easy bob-and-weave of the street-fighter, moving carefully to keep the spread of glass between himself and Kane. With a sneering grin he nods at the man "Faster'n ya look, aintcha, boy. Come play with Eric, but mind ya little footsies, eh?"

Xiang takes notice to the man's arrogant demeanour, and decides he would show him exactly how fast he was. He feints with a left, and comes back with a lighting fast open palm smack to the man's left cheek. If successful, this would continue once or twice more, unless the seasoned street fighter was able to keep up with the monk's blinding speed. These smack, while quite painful, are meant more to humiliate than anything. TO get a rise out of his opponent and cause him to lose that cool that has kept his alive thus far. Xiang was done playing his game, it was time to take the match over.

Erik bobs under the left, and his smile vanishes at the sting of the two right-handed slaps. He has yet to figure out how the man fighting him is ignoring the glass he walks over to reach him, but that very fact alone keeps him wary enough to keep his cool. Not quick to anger in the face of danger, is Eric. In a flurried combination he calmly links together a double-left-jab with a left half-pace-and-hook, the slight lateral step clearing him to snap a right cross out and back, his movement placing him in a lowered stance suitable both for defence and as a platform to launch a vicious uppercut, right-hook or shovel-hook if opportunity presents itself.

Xiang has trained himself to withstand walking upon hot coals, upon ice and various other potentially dangerous elements that most would never attempt. But such is the lifestyle Xiang was born into. The glass crunches beneath his feet, though softly, for this martial warrior is indeed light upon his feet. With the opening of the left handed jabs, the monk opens himself up to the right cross, which in turns allows Erik to land the more powerful uppercut, which causes the monk to seemingly be lifted off his feet. But, once again, years of training come into play. He has been hit harder than this before, and he is far from having a glass jaw. The man he faces is raw, but not completely unshaped. He has gained experience in the streets, killed men for a few silver. Probably some decent fighters in his time too. And so, Xiang lands upon the floor, sending bits of glass shard into his back. But if this pains him, one could not tell. For he places his hands behind his head, and launches himself back upon his feet, his body snapping forth like a snake, ready to strike. Using the built up energy from this act, the monk sends forth a quick jab of his own, which is recoiled quickly there after, only to be followed by two body shots from each side. Hoping that his blows provide the opening he needs, Xiang sends forth a furious head kick towards Erik's inflated crown. Bits of glass shards adorn the battered old boot that covers the man's weapon of choice, possibly adding to the pain that may be caused, should Erik not see this one coming.

Eric's eyes take on a hard glitter as he senses victory from the uppercut. The unexpected recovery of his opponent baffles him for the slightest moment, long enough for Kane's jab to rattle him; the body shots to wind him. By the time the kick comes Eric is in no state to properly defend, and while he is moving away from the kick's momentum, its impact can be heard by the audience as leather smashes into the man's temple, opening up several ragged, bleeding gashes as the man thumps unconscious onto the ground. Almost immediately there is a rush of air as winds course across the floor of the pit, picking up all traces of glass to carry it and Eric out of the Arena at the whim of Alfredo's arcane gesturing. Alfredo then calls down to Kane "Bravo! Bravura! Bellissimo! A stunning display of prowess! We have not seen the likes of you in many a month! Will you fight again sir? We implore you, cajole you, beg at your very feet to grant us the glory of another bout. Will you, sir?"

Xiang exhales one long deep breath, a trickle of blood running from his lower lip, only to be matched by a nasty gash upon his left brow. Erik was indeed a good warm up, but now on to the real show. Cracking his neck from side to side, Xiang gestures to Alfredo in a summoning moment as he says. " Next."

Final Fight - Xiang vs Troll-baiter Lenny

With a theatrical bow, Alfredo causes himself to rise up in the air "Men of Vailkrin, will you let this stranger stand unchallenged? Has fear of his fists unmanned you? Who will step into the cage and show him your mastery of the brutal arts?" We whirls in the air, walking cane pointing randomly to people in the crowd "You sir? No? Then... perhaps you! What? Too drunk? Come come, ale will but help to blunt the pain? Ahh, you are but an audience member? Forgive me, monsieur, my error" The mummery does not last long, though, as a bald and hard-faced man pulls off a shirt and passes it to his drinking companions "Ey, Freddo, I'll yark 'im one. Lemme in, ya wazzock." Alfredo breaks into a grin "Why gracious me, if it isn't Lewd-mouth Lenny, back for another shot at glory! It has been too long, Monsieur, too long. Step in, step in, jump down, there's my good man." Alfredo leaps and cavorts in mid air like some deranged acrobatic clown, his feet landing on god-knows-what is causing the opacity beneath his feet. "Friends, Enemies, paying members of the public! We have a real treat for you tonight! Lenny is back! Yes! The man who knocked out a dwarf with a headbutt, that Lenny! Give thanks to the gods of entertainment! 'Troll-baiter Lenny' is in the black corner! And Newcomer Kane is in the white! Delay not, do not dilly-dally, but dance for us now! Allez! Commence! Let us hear the bones break!"

This time it is Lenny who does not hesitate, moving the moment his feet touch the stained stone floor which is something of a second home to the fighter. Big, broad-shouldered Lenny, covered in knife scars. Lenny whose knuckles seem to be more knotted scar material than flesh, bone, and cartilage. His size belies his speed, for he is no lumbering ox, even if not as fast as Kane. What appears to be a bull-charge like that of Lars is swiftly, and at the last moment, converted into a crossing step that sends his left leg a pace to the monk's left. Even as this happens Lenny gathers into a tight stance as he swiftly twists his torso to hurl a spinning reverse elbow with his right arm at the smaller man's head, using his momentum and a quick half-turn to recover a fighting stance to Kane's left with a powerful left shovel-hook aimed just under the monk's ribs.

Xiang has his gaze trained upon the one known as Lenny the moment he stood up and took his shirt off. The incredible girth of the man is noted, but it is the speed at which he moves and the agility and precision of his movements that stand out to the monk the most. Lenny the Troll-baiter, the one who head butted a dwarf. He allows you to believe he is a reckless brute, and then buries you in a barrage of calculated and deadly blows. A seasoned killer that would have even ol' Erik on his heels. For once, a smirk is found upon the monk's face as his opponent charges forth, Xiang taking up a defensive posture, preparing himself for Lenny's assault the best he can. Obviously he cannot out-muscle this one, and even his greater speed doesn't give him much of an advantage. This fight is going to come down to whoever lands the first blows, and perhaps the loser will not be walking out of here. A trickle of blood runs down his cheek the moment Lenny's elbow comes hurling towards him, and utilizing the preternatural reflexes honed from years of extensive training, Xiang manages to dodge it by shifting his body in tune with the massive bulk of his opponent, back-pedaling but a step or two out of reach, and ducking underneath the impressive hook to try and deliver a calculated straight punch to his opponents left knee-cap, following that up by unleashing a powerful hook to Lenny's ribs, and then pushing himself away and rolling back, to regain some distance and hopefully throw the man off his balance so that the monk has time to recover properly without the legend of the pit coming down upon him with a furious vengeance. The aim of this attack is more to slow the man, and chip away at him so he leaves himself open more frequently. Be it the knee, or the blow to the ribs, Xiang hopes one will provide a stunning blow of some worth.

Lenny grins when neither elbow nor hook find purchase, swiftly shifting his stance so that the punch to his knee goes astray. The grin widens as he then deliberately steps into the monk's hook, accepting the full blow in exchange for dropping a double-fisted hammer strike directly onto the monk from above. There is technique there, sure, skill and experience, but only Kane could recognise this. To the crowd, it's just 'Big Lenny clubbing another little guy'. With Alfredo's magic at play, the crowd can hear the snap of a rib, and can imagine the pain as others crack. Cheers, applause, and encouragement for both fighters echo around the pit. Lenny doesn't flinch at the impact on his ribs, or the sound as one breaks and several gain impact fractures, but waits enthusiastically to see how the smaller man recovers from the exchange of blows.

Xiang feels the larger man's rib crack under his knuckles, feels the bones snap as his fist is driven deep within the man's side. Having expected a returning attack upon him, Xiang was able to at least toss up his arms to act as somewhat of a shock absorber for the otherwise pummelling blow that Lenny reigns down upon him so viciously. Indeed, the monk can feel his spin compress somewhat, and he would almost lose his balance if didn't know by doing so would mean death in such an instance. It is funny how motivated one can be when his life is upon the line, and it seemed that Lenny was a true crowd pleaser, which meant he has left a few opponents lifeless within the pit. By nature all living creatures are barbaric, no matter how well the play upon the facade of humanity. Scuttling back Xiang is able to return to his feet, quickly enough, though the gash upon his eye is starting to swell, and his is starting to grow tired from the continuous exertion of fighting foe after foe. He is a damn good fighter, but he isn't superman! His breath comes heavy now, his movements are not as crisp as before. He is going to have to rely upon technique and precise blows now. The rib, he thinks to himself. A broken rib can be exploited. But to get a seasoned vet like Lenny to open his defences isn't going to be an easy task, and can be costly. Victory does not come to those that wait. And with that thought, Xiang returns to the offensive, opening up with impressive footwork, aimed to try and throw the bigger man off balance, with powerful blow after powerful blow being sent after Lenny's left leg. Of course the monk isn't being so singular, he tosses in quick jabs towards the face, utilizing his only advantage in being faster than his opponent. All of this is but a ploy, a means to an end in the aim to land a crucial blow upon the injured rib from earlier. Its the only chink in the armour of this deadly pit fighter, and Xiang is not one to allow his foe the chance to recover from it. The last blow he unleashes upon the troll-baiter is a swift side-kick. Fast and accurate, it lacks the power of most blows, but if it was to strike the already injured rib of the monk's adversary, it would cause even the most battle hardened veteran to stagger. And bit by bit, Xiang aimed to fell this man and proclaim himself the victor this day!

The grin on Lenny's face grows wider when the monk's speed seemingly manages to defy physics in getting both arms to defend a downward blow which had been precisely timed to land when the monk's hook had landed. He hadn't had a tussle this good in many years, and up until now only the troll had hit him hard enough to break a rib. Now -that- had been a good fight, and had earned him his fame. Admittedly, Lenny himself had underestimated this man 'Kane', and strengthened his punch by stepping into it. Now, having some gauge of his opponent's true strength and speed, he lets the monk have his way for a bit, holding up the pretence of weakening, even as he moves carefully so that the rain of blows only bruises and welts his cheeks and jawline, weathering those blows even as all the attacks that target his ribs seem to -just- miss their mark. Lenny's secret has never been his strength, resilience, or speed; although he has these aplenty. It has been his ability to learn about his opponents from watching them fight which has brought him victory. He has seen this man fight twice in a row, now, and when the moment comes that the expected kick arrives Lenny is ready for it. He raises his leg in a sharp and brutal bone-on-bone leg check, using his superior size and weight to make it stick. The monk may be fast, but Lenny has the advantage of size, weight, and reach - and he uses it to simultaneously launch a powerful straight left directly at the monk's neck. Whether it connects or not, the left leg which so brutally blocked the kick shall land forward as the left elbow drops to protect the rib - even as Lenny uses the forward movement and altered stance to launch a powerful right shovel-hook to angle in on Kane's ribs. This strike is delivered in such a way that, based on the Kane's current position, unless the monk completely backpedals, it can and likely will find and mangle some part of the monk's torso.

Xiang Lao feels his head collide with the man, and then drives home with the palm to his groin with as much strength as his weary and beaten form can muster under such circumstances. The giant fellow's bellowing howl of pain and misery echo like a symphony in the ears of the monk, though that is all but cut short as Lenny's blow hits home, sending the man's skull on a crash course with the pit's floor. The giant of a man falls back some, just as Xiang hits the floor. The room was spinning, but the monk would not allow himself to be taken into the embrace of the darkness that threatened to devour him. Losing was not an option, especially to such a man as Lenny the Troll-baiter. Pain ravages the smaller man's entire body as he lies upon the floor, trying his damndest to rise to his feet. The crowd is a thundering wave of roaring voices that crash over the monk again and again. " Get up!! Finish 'em Lenny!" Another voice, softer, feminine, calls out. " Come on Kane! Kick that sum' bitches ass!" Seems Lenny has a few bitter exes in the crowd today. Alfredo is silent, waiting for the chance to whip this blood thirsty crowd into another frenzy, in hopes of relieving them of some of their hard earned, or stolen, gold. Xiang starts to push himself up from the ground, ever so slowly, the crowd's thunderous yelling muffled by the constant pounding that currently makes it feel as if five dwarves with steel-toed boots are moshing about in his skull. The crowd is on the edge of their seats, awaiting to see who would finish this fight and be crowned champion of the night...

Aftermath

Alfredo launches himself into the centre of the warehouse and spins in midair like a dervish: the cane and tails of his frock-coat fly out and, coupled with his top hat, conspire to give him the appearance of a hovering spinning top. His voice, unaffected by his antics, resounds around the warehouse "Sentients, Barely-Sentients, and those three sneaky bastardos who thought they could escape the entry fee, give up your applause! Rattle the ceiling and the walls! This is unprecedented! Both fighters seem unable to effectively continue! We have a draw, yes, but what a draw! Kane of the Killer Kick and Low Blow has, at risk of his very future existence, toppled Troll-baiter Lenny! What magnificence! What mastery! There shall be no more fights this evening! Nothing can top that performance!" As he speaks, a cushion of air raises both fighters through separate trapdoors in the pit's ceiling. Lenny is set down near his drinking buddies, Xiang near one of the event attendants. Alfredo continues his exhortations "Come again, Signore Kane! Come again Signore Lenny! We shall be here again soon for another Night of Delightful Fights!" Alfredo ceases his dizzying spins and bows theatrically to the gathered crowd "And now, Ciao Bella to you, my beautiful paying patrons of these brutal arts. Au revoir and Bon Nuit, my dear friends. Good evening... and Goodbye!" And with that final goodbye Alfredo whizzes off towards the far corner of the warehouse, landing with a graceful, if somewhat comedic, hop and skip. With a final bounce he twirls his walking cane and trots through his well-guarded exit. An event attendant approaches Kane and hands him a purse. "Your winnings, mate. You and Lenny share the fight prize tonight. You'll notice Alfredo's added a complimentary incentive to return. Well-fought draws get the punters drooling and paying premium wagers on the next bout. Nice fight, mate - I hopes ya come again. Always liked seeing someone's head getting kicked in." The attendant nods curtly and heads off to find his employer, even as most of the crowd starts to disperse. There are still a few groups of people discussing the various fights in animated fashion, and a lot of appraising looks are directed at Xiang.

Cornelius carefully slips out of the warehouse, following in the wake of Eric's companions as they haul his still-unconscious form out.