Fight:Shishi vs Eirik

Presented by The Redskull Trophy Ring

Combatants: Shishi vs. Eirik
Stakes: It's rumored that the prize is a legendary sword.
Terms: The only agreed upon terms for this fight, is that the crowd must choose their weapons, no matter the outcome.
Master of Cermonies: Gevurah
Ring Marshal: Janita
Judge: Gevurah

Further Synopsis: The crowd gathers for the fight between two Frostmaw celebrities! However, after bets have been placed and the fight begins, problems stir from within the noise of hollering fans! Gevurah learns some hearsay secrets of Frostmaw and how the title King of Love and Beauty is issued!Regardless, both Ernest and Zeddidiah interefere in their own way. A cursed bolt shot by the former and a banana peel by the latter. What happens next is anyone's guess, but both continue to fight. That is until Janita stops Eirik and labels him a cheat and then proclaiming him as the loser!

OOC Note: The fight, and interruptions have been put in bold to be easier located, if you just wish to skim.

The Redskull Trophy Ring

Despite being an avid fan of blood sports, Gevurah had not yet graced The Redskull Trophy Ring, much to the disapointment of avaricious dwarves who had heard tall tales of how lavishly she spends on the Trist'oth Arena and other subterranean fight clubs. Thus when they heard she would be in attendance today they punted the pre-scheduled judges off the roster (prompting an unscheduled RTR brawl on the spot) and invited her to double as judge and Master of Ceremonies. Gevurah, uninterested in either combatant ("Frostmaw," she had snarled upon learning the headlining names), decided that she would let the crowd decide which surface-dwelling waste of space triumps over the other puny turd. Turd v. Turd. She had chuckled to herself, for she is very clever and none alive will tell you different. No, the combatants did not entice her to come today, but a rumor did: a rumor that the top prize is an ancient artifact that was stolen from her estate the year before. There's no rumor as to how it wound up in this Dwarven pit, but she'll steal it back. Excited by the prospect, she arrives lizard-back at the arena with 15 minutes to spare, a small entourage of D'Artes guards, and a trailing long skirt befitting a proper matron of yore. She takes her seat on the raised platform and orders wine. Her scouts scan the arena for sign of the sword, but no early luck. It has to be here. It simply must. Kahn introduces himself (you know, sort of, in his Kahn way) and Gevurah feigns interestby not ignoring him. Off to a great start. When Kahn informs her that it is time to start the duel, the priestess stands to face the crowd and announces in her preacher's voice that "The time has come!" She pauses for everyone's attention. "Normally when I utter those words, what comes next is a sacrifice to the God of Death, Vakmatharas, the one true God. If these Frostmawian 'heroes' put on a good enough show, today will be no different!" She cackles. She's so clever! None alive will tell you different! "Join me in welcoming," she snaps at Orikahn several times for him to say the name that is written in large print on a banner right in front of her, "who will face off against," again she snaps at Orikahn until he says the name she can't be bothered to read. "May Vakmatharas guide their weapons!"

Ernest happened to find himself in town, and when he heard of a fight going on he figured "what the heck" so he found himself a nice archway to stand under like an edgelord. It was at this point that he realized standing under an archway like an edgelord made him feel very pretentious, so he found himself a seat and stashed his hat underneath it. Might as well, right? When in Rome, and all that?

Khitti is here. Why? Because she’s a seven month pregnant warrior woman and can’t frakking keep her balance, let alone participate in a fight of any sort. So, what’s the next best thing? Watching one. Brand was here too, of course, because he dare not anger the woman carrying his child. Who’s stupid enough to do that, really? Not Brand. Plus there was the little matter of making sure she didn’t fall over anywhere, since she was very much top heavy now. He was well equipped with containers full of popcorn, and drinks -- enough to feed a family of four (whatever he didn’t eat Khitti was sure to devour the rest of it). Khitti barely knew both of the contenders, but there was an obvious choice: Shishi. Khitti didn’t really harbor much ill will against Eirik anymore, despite their past, but Shishi’s kids -did- cheer for her last year at the Titans of Winter tournament. Screaming like she were a fan at one of her concerts, Khitti let out a “Woooooo! Let’s go Shishi!” and furiously shook her ‘We Love Shishi’ pennant like a madwoman. Gevurah is also cheered for. Because.

Leone is here with a bottle of a whiskey in one hand, and an ale in the other. The priestess is double-fisting it tonight. How elegant. Behind the smith, no doubt looking wholly disapproving of her over indulgence of booze, is the black-clad, silver-haired warrior (whose player should arrive in about an hour and asked me to post him in), Krice. The petite plover finds a place to stand at the edge of the ring. Sitting is for creampuffs, obviously, and she certainly isn't one of those. After a long pull from the ale, the smith focuses on the ring itself. "Yeah," the diametric notes of grit and gloss declare to no one in particular.

Aurore scampers through dusty Craughmoyle’s dankest corners, clinging to the shadows of subterranean architecture like white clings to rice. Thus far, her weekly haul is respectable if bland; several bushels of flour and barley are stored neatly behind an abandoned old shed where the woman will soon slumber. She’s also procured little more than dregs off some great dwarven keg of ale. It’s just about time for the leather-clad lass to toss some tepid water over her powdery dinner and pig out when suddenly comes a tremendous uproar! Boots to the ground, Aurore perks her head up to see if she’s finally been caught for true! But all the footsteps rush to the south, to some intimidating structure over yonder. Aurore breathes a sigh of relief, but now she’s curious! She can’t help herself! She takes to the dankest corners once more, scurrying so, until she reaches the outer rim of the one, the only, the Redskull Trophy Ring. Look at all these terrifying people! Look at this terrible thing called civilization. Aurore hate-watches.

Shishi is well known here in Craughmoyle as the reigning Titan of Winter, even though the residents have literally been living under a rock. So the Lithrydelian Sports Celebrity gets a warm welcome. Lets face it, Eirik may be a witch killer and the King of Beauty, but those three letters, ‘ToW’, are more of a draw on a fight card, and is likely why the crowd is a bit bigger today than usual. Gevurah’s weird Vakmatharas promo disguised as an introduction sucks, and the so-called Blue Demon emerges into the ring to a slightly confused crowd. Oceanic blue eyes glare up at the priestess on the platform and he shrugs emphatically, as if to ask ‘What was that?’ There’s fans though, so he’ll let it go after that so he can focus on waving, and pointing, and winking in the multiple directions his name is being shouted.

Blut leaned against the wall of the seating area watching on from a distance. Whilst seat tickets were sold out bribery never failed to alter the rules. Hudson is here with some of his henchmen. It is cold, so in addition to weather appropriate gear/attire, everyone is packing alcohol. One of the guys gets up to go fetch the nearest thing to hot dogs. Hudson has already placed some bets on Eirik, because he believes in loyalty among wolfmen but also in rooting for underdogs (yeah, intentional).

Aurore slyly yanks an all-beef frankfurter with real saurkraut and onion relish when the vendor isn't looking.

Zedidiah has shown up to see what all the fuss is about, and whether there is actually money to be made in blood sports. Yes, that is why he is here, he continues to tell himself as he scalpers into his seat, wearing a 'Go Shishi' hat and matching shirt, with a limited edition Shishi: Titan of Winter collectible figurine (not a doll) tucked under one arm. His hands are full, a greasy sausage in pastry in one hand and a banana in the other as the hobbit takes alternating bites. The healthy option.

Khitti stuffs copious amounts of butter-drenched popcorn into her face.

Gevurah grins victoriously at Shishi, having gotten his goat. Their ill-fated adventure in the shadow plane has made her marginally fonder of the Titan of Winter, whose name she definitely knows. U mad?

Eirik is not well known here, unlike Shishi and instead has been preparing himself for this fight with the Titan - a man he didn’t get to face last year. However, once Gevurah’s terrible introduction is given, he jumps up onto the stage before the crowd ending his mild warm up. She couldn’t even be bothered with announcing the combatants this day! True to Shishi’s thoughts, the crowd gathered were probably in favor of him, though perhaps, Eirik hopes, some choose to scream out for the underdog of this bout; Eirik. He examines the crowd who has gathered with a mild enthusiasm. Eventually he does see a few he knows, but as for Khitti’s waving signs of her interest in Shishi, he chuckles. His attention moves to his opponent while he waits to see what is to come next.

Hudson is only half-attentive to Gevurah because he's craning his neck to look at the movement of ... a cheer squad. He realizes that Gevurah, woman who definitely tried to kill him, is giving the introduction only belatedly, and promptly says to his friends, "We almost slept together once but I turned her down. She's crazy."

Lanara enters the area with a troupe of cheerleaders in tow, all Avian’s, and likely women that she had been coaching from her time in Schezerade. The elf, and the six avian’s are all wearing short white skirts, midriff white and blue tops, white sneakers, and are holding silver pom-poms in their hands. Upon closer inspection, one would note that the shirts read ‘Team Eirik’ and have a logo of a grey direwolf emblazoned across the chest. The troupe stands out amongst the many spectators, as they are all long legged, with toned stomachs, wide smiles, and of course, beautiful beyond belief. All seven women have their hair in high pony-tails, and have sprinkled their locks with silver glitter, hoping to stand out and gather more support for the lycan. The cheerleaders part from Lanara, allowing the woman to approach the ringside so she can gather an up close and personal view of her fiancé during the fight. Lana briefly eyes Shishi, as though sizing the vampire up, her chocolate hues mimicking daggers, before she rests her gaze upon her lycan. If Eirik happens to glance her way, she will mouth a ‘good luck’ though she doesn’t try to garner his attention. She knew her warrior had been training for this, and she didn’t want to cause a distraction. The witch stands with her pom-poms ready, nipping her lower lip in suspense, tuning out everyone else gathered, as she only has eyes for one.

Khitti didn't know that Shishi had a goat. She knew about Wakka, and the monkey, and the mammoths. But, a goat too? Dang. #RIPThatGoat because it's probably going to be sacrificed to Vakmathras later.

Gevurah glares at the white-clad cheerleaders, the emodiment of everything she hates about the surface. Cheer. Positivity. Patriarchy.

Eleanor sauntered stealthily into the area, relying on the towering figure of another patron to shield her from general view before she made her way through the crowd. As her celadon eyes, cast in shadow by the lay of her cowl, scanned the room, she caught sight of several familiar faces, and, wincing against the cacophony of fans screaming in her ears, she pushed her way through the people to find a place to loiter. Passing by some of those familiar faces, she might rest a hand briefly on their shoulders or share a respectful nod, before she sidled up alongside Leone. Pulling her hood lower and the cloak tighter about her frame, a tattooed hand snapped out from the shadows to steal the plover’s ale right from under her nose; it was promptly returned to the smith’s petite palm sans a generous swallow, and her gratitude was delivered to the shorter woman by way of a lopsided grin and a wink. Afterward, she leaned into Leone to drawl a thickly-accented, “Fa ur ye cheerin' fur?”

Bastion wasn't one for bloodsport, or glory sport, for that matter. He was, however, a huge fan of sports endorsement , in the form of competitive cheerleading! It was dancing, it was riling up the crowd for their favorite sport, whether that be some sportsball or gladiatorial event, and it gave him the chance to use some of the most interesting tools in his arsenal... the pom poms. He shook his pom poms, rocking a black and pink mini skirt, and yelling to the crowd, making the stages clamor. The dwarves had ok'd it, sure that it would bring in yet more money, and Bastion was taking his cheerleading duties seriously.

Bastion 's cheers are neutral, and sadly, solitary. Looks like he's been shown up!

Aurore is stuffing the last vestiges of 100% all beef frankfurter with real saurkraut and onion relish into her pocket for latter-evening feasting when she fails to notice a big giant rock near the (very stylish mahogany) bleachers and trips unceremoniously, revealing herself to the crowd. But whilst Aurore’s existence has been revealed, she doesn’t fall without grace. Rather, she reaches out with great acrobatic prowess to grab hold of the nearest thing she can grab, which happens to be the ponytail of a blonde and beautiful cheerleader vouching most loudly for Team Eirik. She might just take the poor cheerleader down with her.

Janita stepped up to the two competitors. Tall, deep-voiced and dressed all in black, she cut an imposing figure. "Alright, you two. I wanna see a good, clean fight. No crotch shots, no eye gouges, get me? NOW!" Janita turned to address the crowd. "Now. We're gonna do something interesting tonight! You, yes you, our wonderful audience, get to choose what your kings of the ring beat each other senseless with!" She gestured to a weapon rack, upon which were five weapons. A cestus, a maul, a pickhammer, a three-headed flail, and a trident/net combo. "Okay! First, Shishi! Lemme hear you yell for the weapon you want!" She lifted each in turn, and upon the crowd's choosing, handed it to Shishi. She repeated the procedure with Eirik. Once both men were armed, she shouted, Begin!" OOC: Everyone votes now! Shishi first, then Eirik out of the remainder.

Ernest couldn’t believe his luck. It was That Guy, right there. Right there in the fight. Perfect. Shishi, was it? That was enough of a name for his purposes. He snapped one of his crossbows out of its holster and opened the magazine, slipping a special crossbow bolt that glinted with a sickly blue light from a pocket in his jacket and placing it in the chamber. Then he lifted the weapon to his lips and started whispering quietly, focusing, meditating, his eyes never leaving Shishi’s head. The curse was already laid in the ammunition. It would only take a minute to adjust the targeting... Gevurah 's gaze drifts from the cheerleader squad to the goat-boy cheerleader, and she is genuinely cheered! She laughs throatily and looks around and behind Bastion for his handler. Whoever is humiliating this faun is a person she's like to have a drink with. Publicly humiliated and coerced jesters are her second favorite entertainment, after blood sports.

Krice 's gaze passed briefly across the dark features of a certain drow woman, but Leone's murmured syllable drew his attention back. " Like this sort of thing, do you?" He asked, his tone noncommittal, sweeping attention across the crowds even less so. Aurore's graceful tumble alit something in his eyes but it was fleeting at best. Eleanor's arrival at Leone's other side stole his attention next and he fixed her with a half-lidded stare. " Careful," he said to the high priestess, of the cloaked thief. " That one's got sticky fingers."

Gevurah shouts her vote into the ring. For Shishi: A maul! For Eirik: A cestus! Blunt weapons draw out a fight and make them bloodier, people. Choose wisely.

Shishi eyes the trident and kind of side eyes it and tilts his head in the direction so that the crowd might help him out a bit.

Khitti gives in and cheers for Eirik a little. Because she wants to see somebody get their arse kicked today. But, she definitely cheers for Shishi more. Because she's biased. There's even another 'woo' for Gevurah too because even though she follows the deity that put this curse on Khitti (and was the one that helped!), she's really good at advertising and subliminal messaging and, well, those dark magic ladies have to stick together. (Until they probably try to kill each other eventually or something.) Down with the Patriarchy!

Zedidiah just starts yelling "Trident and Net!" as if his lunch depended on it, with all the force his little lungs can gather.

Orikahn paces the ringside, looking anxious. A few wealthy-looking dwarves sit in their reserved row of ringside seats, all laughing and smoking. Kahn does not stray far from these, and one gets the feeling he is being held on some metaphorical leash. Gevura’s arrival changes this an, at the dwarves apparent behest, he goes to greet her. They exchange the sort of look that two apex predators inevitably do, and then they get on with their lives. Very good. “Shishi,” he roars as prompted, “and Eirik!” the names echo through the colosseum. Thus having serviceably (if somewhat grumpily) ushered Gevura into her ceremonial role, he returns to his pacing by the ringside. Meanwhile, a posse of shapely dwarven cheerleaders have come out to greet him, their curvaceous figures swaying as they trot into the arena, brushing callously past Lanara’s avian troupe. For a touch of pageantry, the five ladies examples of the available weapons, precisely as Ring Marshal Janita has listed. No two weapons are nearly alike, and a mismatched fight seems like the obvious intention here. “The cestus!” A pair of brass bludgeons to be affixed to each hand by tight, leather wrapping. “The three-headed flail!” A heavy flail with three iron bars for heads. “The pickhammer!” A nimble steel bludgeon with a sharp, curved point on the reverse. “The net and trident!” A four foot, bronze-hafted trident and a heavy hempen net. “And the hickory maul!” A two-handed wooden mallet of imposing proportions. The shouts of the crowd will determine which weapon will be given to whom, and the cheerleaders gesture encouragingly toward the stands. Make some noise, people!

Lanara waves her pom-pom’s in excitement, wiggles her legendary derriere, and jumps up and down. “Go Eirik! Team Eirik for life!!! Kick his vampire butt! You got this, babe!!!” The elf is so geared up, that her pony-tail bobs with each move she makes, her dark hues shining with the thrill of the nearing fight. As a blonde avian is taken out by Aurore, and the Goat Boy cheers by himself in the corner, the rest of her squad manages to do several elaborate dance moves, likely earning some spectators of their own. Hotness, anyone?! Lana remains alongside the ring, shouting out her vote for the two. “Give Shishi the Trident… Give Eirik the Flail!!!”

Leone scowls at her empty hand, which is soon refilled with her beverage of choice, albeit a little lighter than before. "Oi," the smith reprimands to the blonde thief at her side. The admonishment comes with a wry, side-quirked smile. A gentle nod is given to Krice, and the smith points at Eleanor with one finger that's not exactly free from the Ale glass, but manages to leverage up, none the less. "Have you two met?" The question is posed and abandoned, as a moment later, the smith is screaming at the ring, "Maul and Pick! Maul. And. Pick!" She didn't overly care who ended up with what. "Not one over the other," the farrier admits to Eleanor at her side before chugging a gulp of the ale. "Priestess of War," are the next few words out of her mouth in reply to Krice, "I live for this....almost literally."

Hudson watches as one of the cheerleaders is tackled by a random woman. "Woah woah woah," says one of Hudson's companions. Hudson grunts - he's mid-hot dog bite - and then like the rest of the men in his row, cranes his neck to watch what happens next. They're voting on weapons. Hudson cups his hands around his mouth, shouts, "Pickhammer for Shishi, maul for Eirik!"

Celaeno was late to the party...only drawn by curiosity at the enormous commotion after becoming conveniently lost...again. She would find an open seat near the back, the only ones available at this point, her hood drawn up and hands tucked in her robes. What in the world was all of this about? Oh how behind on the news she was. People shouting weapon names she couldn't place? She adds her voice to the masses, just for kicks, "The pointy one!" No doubt it gets lost somewhere…

Bastion was soon backed by a lovely group of dwarven cheerleading beauties. Over here, the avian's with god-like visages and long, slender limbs, and their leader, Lanara. And over here, squat, thick bodied dwarven girls, led by a young boy, who looked very much like a girl. It would be a dance off for the ages. The dwarven troupe shook their stuff, with marching order precision, pom poms raising as the stout ladies formed a large triangle, Bastion on top, in a display of teamwork and strength!

Lanara finds that she’s approached by a drunken dwarf, muttering something about sexy buns, and she looks down at him, in sheer annoyance. “No. I’m good. I don’t want a hot dog.” Naturally, the woman had completely missed his attempt at picking her up, and she returns her attention to the fight. The Avian troupe is eyeing the Dwarven troupe with disgust, comparing their figures, and dance moves, and upping the ante. They begin to twerk, and shout their cheers for Eirik, at the top of their lungs, clearly in favor of their instructor’s fiancé. Lana blows them a quick kiss, while offering Hudson a small wave, before yet again, gluing her eyes to Eirik’s form.

Aurore rolls her lithe body across the hard Larketian stone that is not in fact Larketian -- or is it? Mid-roll, she taps her fingers into the stony grooves, rocking herself on up to get out of this jam. A blonde and skirted avian is still on the ground, maybe, but this is a tough world where women die by the dozens and Aurore needs to make a break for it while she still can. “I hope you’re not dead,” she offers bluntly, shrugging and ducking into the crowd. But now the crowd is shouting various weapon names! Aurore’s throat seizes up and she panics, bowling into a bunch of foul-scented dwarves in so doing. Out of the corner of her very green eyes she espies a truly gorgeous man named Hudson who, like her, is eating a hot dog. Despite herself, Aurore gasps. “Oh, wow! Pickhammer for Shishi! Maul for Eirik!” It’s the most she’s ever said in front of more than six people at once, but by golly she says it.

Eleanor didn't bother participating in the selection of weapons, her attention instead drawn toward the stoic warrior nearby and his words of warning to the plover. The spell-rogue's full lips twisted into a wolfish grin as she looked along a shoulder toward Krice, albeit her words were still directed to Leone. "Och aye, we hae," she confessed, tearing her gaze away from the silver-haired man and sending it sidelong toward the priestess anew. "Atween ye an' me, he coods use a wee pep tae his step," she shared with Leone, tone dropping conspiratorially before she parted with another wink. As the conversation shifted back to the impending fight, a husky chuckle tumbled from the rogue leader, and her celadons shifted toward the combatants with an arched brow. "Issat sae?" Beat. "Ah suppose 'at diz make a lick ay sense." Aye, that it did; the cogs of her mind were whirling as she considered the priestess' position, but any questions she might have were dismissed in favor of another wince - more screaming fans, and she was gritting her teeth, a headache creeping into her temples. "Och, gods." As if it was the answer to all her problems, she reached out to steal another swig of Leone's ale but this time held onto it - Leone would maybe get it back later. Maybe.

Eirik is starting to like the choices of the crowd more, but Gevurah does have a good point. Also, the two unknowns for him, Leone and Hudson are agreed with as well, but he waits to see the final outcome.

Khitti doesn’t care who uses what weapon, really. She just wants to see some destruction and dismemberment. Maybe a little death too. Khitti lets this be known--loudly. Brand is probably a little embarrassed by how riled up Khitti is and attempts to mask this by drinking a lot of whiskey. Krice flicked his attention onto Leone. Had he and Eleanor met? In a manner of speaking. The woman herself covered the reply, with a bit of sass to boot, and he found that he harboured no ill will toward her. Maybe it was the charming accent. In response to the priestess' comment about her status in the War City, Krice murmured a pensive, " You weren't always." Talk of her interest in the fight fell away and he diverted his focus to people-watch, indirectly tracking the punch-up whilst perusing the crowd. Lanara's troupe of cheerleaders didn't hold his attention for long as shorter, more plump figures waltzed in to take up residence in similar roles. From the dwarven cheerleaders he glanced toward the would-be fighters. If Eirik caught his eye, he'd receive a nod of greeting. Shishi was dismissed without ceremony. Somewhere in the group he noticed Khitti, but she seemed too occupied to potentially notice a greeting from the warrior, so he refrained.

Bastion 's ladies pointedly ignore the uppity avians with classic dwarven confidence. These ladies aren't intimidated by no slender limbed bird people, no siree! The pyramid comes down, and Bastion leaps in front of the group with a multifaceted flip from the top... those monk acrobatics are handy! They do a dance step, cheering for Shishi (Apparently, in the spirit of competition, they'd made an alliance with the enemy of their enemy), and they turn to up the ante my mimicking their opponents. Have you ever seen a dwarven troupe of cheerleaders twerking? Bastion ended up just gaping, appalled, at the dwarven beauties.

Zedidiah clambers quickly to another part of the arena to begin shouting "Net and Trident!" over there as well. A few bites of greasy sausage give him the fortitude he needs to keep up his bellowing.

Shishi appreciates you, Superfan Zed.

Gevurah spots Khitti and Brand in the crowd, then Khitti's swollen belly, and grins darkly to herself. Oh the troubles that will plague that one... If Khitti and Gevurah's eyes meet, she'll nod amicably. If Brand and Gevurah's eyes meet, utter indifference. Women of her rank don't recognize the help. No one has explained to Gevurah that Brand is not Khitti's man servant, and while Gevurah is clever enough to figure out he got Khitti pregnant, again, in drow culture, that only makes him -more- likely to be Khitti's slave, not less. In large part, the assumption that Khitti is a go-getting vampire who wanted a baby then used her prize slave as a stud is precisely why Gevurah has any respect for Khitti. Maybe they can be friends.

Leone can't help but to laugh at Eleanor. The smith relinquishes her ale readily enough and, fortunately for her, her sidekick and paladin companion Bertram has taken it upon himself to attend the fight tonight. He appears on her other side, holding a fresh ale. Help like that is hard to find. The smith thrusts a thumb over her shoulder toward Krice at Eleanor's remark about him. "I dunno," the smith slurs out, "I rather like him this way. Means I always have someone I can trust." Another laugh chases the endorsement, and the smith's interaction shifts back to Krice. "Actually," she says on the heels of his remark, "I've always been in service to the war god; we just call him something different in my clan: Tyr."

Lanara finds her attention stolen once more, as the blonde Avian forces herself to her feet, glaring at Aurore’s back as she retreats from nearly stampeding over her form. Lana shakes her head, the unspoken threat causing the blonde to back down and rejoin her fellow cheerleaders. The last thing they needed was another fight. The only champion here tonight, would be Eirik, and she would make certain that her company had behaved. Bastion is given a wide-eyed stare, the witch unsure what to make of the goat fellow and his dancing dwarves, though the Avian troupe is starting to get rather competitive. The six women drop into a seductive split, and flash the crowd, causing Lana to pale and momentarily leave the side of the ring, to shout at the women. “Put your tops down! We don’t flash our privates at the crowd! Regardless of who they are cheering for, do you understand me?!” The petite elf stomps her foot against the floor, albeit angrily, until the troupe composes themselves, and covers up. Once that’s settled, Lana sprints back to the side of the ring, and watches the interactions between Shishi and Eirik.

Celaeno then suddenly realizes she recognizes one of the combatants, however faint it may be as she peers between the much taller heads in front of her. Artia's brother? There were two names on various shirts in the crowd being called out...she takes a guess and hopes its right. "Give Eirik the pointy one!"

Hudson waves back at Lanara and observes with casual interest that the avian cheer squad has broken out into a twerking dance routine. "I don't remember this happening at the last one of these," he remarks, out of the corner of his eye noticing Aurore, random woman who had nearly knocked the whole line over. It seems to him that she is looking at him expectantly, like she knows him. He does not recognize her. Awkward. He can only draw one conclusion from this. She doesn't really look his type so he wonders how drunk he was. He waves tentatively at her, it seems polite.

Khitti would agree with Gevurah that Brand -is- a stud, but just not in the way Gevurah means. Also, he kind of -is- her slave for the time being until this pregnancy is over with (sorry, Brand), so the drow matron is not entirely wrong. But, Khitti of course has no knowledge of what Gevurah’s thinking (besides the obvious of it usually being evil or Vakmathras-related) and so when she catches the drow’s gaze, the very-much-alive-and-not-a-vampire woman nods in return. They -should- be friends. The best of friends. They could destroy this world made for men together. (Please don’t tell Lionel this. He’ll probably yell at her or something. ‘Something something Kahran’s bad enough’... You get the picture.)

Gevurah stands again as the crowd shouts their vote for Shishi. She's about to ignore their vote and go with her first choice, but then she just keeps hearing 'Trident!' over and over coming from every direction around her. There's more 'Trident!' shouts than people. Surely this is a sign from the God of Death himself. "Trident and Net for Shishi!" Then for Eirik, she moves onto her first choice, the maul which is just so much bloodier. "And for Eirik, the maul!" (Actual votes need not apply.)

Janita nodded in approval for the weapon choices. "Okay. Again, clean fight. But not TOO clean. BEGIN!"

Bastion and his dwarves were ready to do a lot of things to win the crowd, but when the Avian's started flashing, they blanched. Bastion looked back at the shocked and upset visages of the dwarven ladies, and frowned at the opposing team. These were proud ladies over here, darnit! They wouldn't stoop to stripping for attention. The dwarves, angry beyond coherent talking, stormed off, and Bastion couldn't blame them. That was a really low thing the haughty avian's had done. He just shrugged at the crowd, saddened by this immoral display. This was a wholesome blood sport event, good for the whole family, darnit! It even had such auspicious figures as a drow matron attending! He took a moment to rethink his priorities in life.

Celaeno pouted a bit as a blunt weapon was chosen, but a bout was a bout, right?

Gevurah beckons for Zed to approach her terrifying platform. She looks down her nose at the fat hobbit, who she assumes is a waiter, and demands, "I want a Shishi snowcone. The one with the edible fire."

Eleanor tuned into the shouts of the crowd and MC long enough to catch the declaration of chosen weapons, and her lips twisted into a devious smirk; the fight was perhaps going to be interesting after all. Shishi and Eirik were both given brief glances, but in looking around she was also privy to the gawdy display from some of the cheerleaders, and she chuckled beneath her breath - after all, who was she to judge as co-owner and manager of a cabaret? Diverting her attention from their antics, her shadowed celadon eyes lifted back to the unfolding fight, offering up no further accented words in favor of quietly sipping the ale and trying desperately to ignore her headache.

Janita got a good eyeful of those cheerleaders and gave them a toothy grin.

Aurore is basically heartbroken that Hudson won’t hang onto his hot dog and introduce himself literally this instant so she just kind of flails haplessly and smacks a dwarf in the nose.

Orikahn watches the ring marshal with evident interest but, perhaps realizing that he is staring, tears his gaze away just in time to be left wondering. What had happened to cause so much uproar so soon? He looks to the two fighters, they were still taking their weapons. The dwarven cheerleaders are angry too? Ah, and behind him, a round of hubbub has erupted among those wealthy, ringside dwarves, their gold and silver chains jingling as they lean forward, heads together, muttering concerns beneath the roar of the stadium.

Zedidiah finds that he has terror eaten the rest of his sausage on his way up to Gevurah's platform. Always with the drow, he can't catch a break. He just dips his head quietly and scampers away to order four snow cones. One makes its way back to Gevurah. Zed has a sticky face now. His collectible figurine (Not a doll) is still remarkably clean.

Shishi doesn’t hear anything about not bringing shadows to life and using them to strangle your opponent in the short list of guidelines Janita lays down, so that’s good. However, given the spirit of this bloodsport, he’s going to at least try to use whatever weapon is selected for him, and give his family’s curse a day off for this fight. Getting his first choice of weapon may help keep him from using the crutch of his usual chaotic fighting style. He puts on a sweet grin for the dwarf beauty holding holding the duo of weapons and takes them, trident in his off hand (right) and net bunched up a bit in his left, before moving into a starting position he likes near the center of the ring. He waves the trident at the crowd (specifically at Zed? Probably not, but maybe? Yes!?), as one last acknowledgement, before he rolls his shoulders and gets in the zone while Eirik gets his maul and sets up opposite him. Janitia gives the go ahead, and Shishi goes ahead!. He shifts the handle of the trident so that he is holding it near the bottom, so take full advantage of the 4-foot length. He dashes in a straight line towards the witch killer, grinning like a maniac, with no feints or deception built into his charge, and comes to a ridiculously sudden stop at exactly the max range of the trident from Eirik, who is treated to a trio of malicious thrusts from the weapon.The first is at his chest and followed by a single step forward angling the vampire’s body so that his side is facing the lycan, while the next are towards his shins, one at each.

Bastion watches the dwarves storm by, until one is thwapped on the nose by a flailing Aurore! The dwarven cheerleader grabs her by the scruff of her shirt and yanks her down, spitting and cursing in a very unladylike manner, until Bastion intervenes, putting himself between the dwarven lady and Aurore, apologizing profusely, and whispering something to the dwarf that helped her calm down, and move on. Bastion turned to Aurore once she was off, hopefully, and clasped his hands together, bowing at the waist and apologizing for the inconvenience.

Gevurah appreciates Zedidiah's nervous scampering, a sign of a well-trained waiter. And her snowcone is prompt, too. She pours a little wine on the snowcone and enjoys the rare treat and the show.

Zedidiah is positive Shishi just saluted him. Nearby dogs hear a high pitched squee, but most people do not.

Hudson sidebars with the buddy seated next to him. "Do you know that woman?" he indicates Aurore, who has just punched a dwarf in the face and is now being treated to a foul-winded bellow of irritation from the man. No one knows Aurore, and as the fight has now commenced, Hudson forgets about her existence entirely. "Let's go WOLF!!!" he shouts at Eirik.

Aurore is spat-upon and assailed! She's thrust into combat and by the old gods, the new gods, every frakking god, Aurore will win or she will make this whole realm bleed! Manic thoughts of literally hell flit through her pretty face and she's wondering how many seconds it would take her to claw the red-nosed dwarven spitter tooth and limb... and then some goat boy is really nice and Aurore is honestly fine again? It's whatever, she didn't care anyway. She wipes the spit off of her (again, very pretty) face and hates mankind.

Hudson 's at his writer's mercy but we can play that off like evidently couldn't tell the difference.

Gevurah signals for Orikahn to approach. "Tell me, feline, what is a King of Love and Beauty." Her question is uttered like a demand, but her brows knit in genuine confusion betraying her utter ignorance of surfacer prom culture.

Celaeno 's attention was starting to wander, too many bustling bodies and noises, and debated leaving. But then she caught the fight beginning in the gap she'd used to watch the goings on of the arena so far. She stands, the petite half elf trying to use it to her full advantage. After all, learning how to fight wasn't something one learned from a book, in her limited experience…

Khitti pretends she’s stabbing something with a trident too as she watches Shishi attack Eirik and screams her delight because the fight finally started. He was pretty good with that thing, it seemed. Maybe she’d ask him to teach her how to use one someday. She’s gotta work off all this baby weight once the kid’s born, might as well be with weapon training. She’d probably need all the fighting knowledge she could get with this whole Kahran’s-going-to-bring-about-the-apocalypse thing going on.

Krice had a lot to look at--from Aurore's almost-feud with unhappy dwarves, into which the warrior himself did not need to step, to the interaction of Gevurah with a famed garland-wearing catman., to the battle itself. His flitting gaze was subtle but sharp and concise, quick to acknowledge each scenario as it changed before moving on to the next. With Bertram's arrival closer to Leone's side, the warrior nodded in greeting, distracted briefly from the chaos of the crowds around them.

Orikahn waits for the go-ahead from the dwarves. He moves to acknowledge. "Orikahn," he corrects the address of 'feline' with a bob of his brows, but answers her question nonetheless. "A title from Frostmaw," the sabertooth tugs the hem of his cloak indicatively, "some softflesh nofur mating ritual." He snorts and looks to Eirik. "Evidently a stud of some sort, selected for superior stock."

Eirik finds himself snatching the hickory handled Maul and testing both its’ weight and grip within his well calloused hands. One last look to the crowd is given, specifically to Lanara and her overzealous form of cheering; sounds he must drown out for this match. Once more he raises that weapon on high for the crowd to take notice, and then turns to face his opponent - hardening his mind for this titan before him. Let’s see what you’ve got Shishi! The lycans right hand slips down the wooden haft near the head of the hammer, his left hand clings near its end, seeking a comfortable wide grip. Eirik finds himself readied in moments and meets the Titans charge with his own! His lungs inhale the scent of blood and sweat that still lingers the gritty surface beneath him, but he has no defensive weapon to stave off such a reach, and instead Eirik throws himself into a rolling dive to Shishi’s flank - dropping from high to low with haste. The first thrust scraps against the mixture of Chain and leathers upon his chest and spawning a show of sparks while he is horizontal in the air! The Lycan hits the ground, that second thrust meets its mark, tearing through greaves and digging into the flesh beneath them, but thankfully his protection have provided some resistance and crimson vitae emerges! He is prepared for that third and rises, spinning on his good right foot, and the trident misses its mark by the hair of Eiriks own flesh. He snarls through his teeth in pain and continues to follow through with his own momentum. That warhammer is extended to full length, and swung like a club in a low arc for both of Shishi’s feat! He ignores his own pain and presses further, and once the swing has gone full arc attempts to jump into the man with the butt of his weapon aimed for Shishi’s nose!

Lanara watches Shishi, as he readies his trident and net, somewhat worried. She didn’t want her lycan to get hurt, though she knew that Eirik would layeth the smacketh down on the vampire, in turn. Raising her arms above her head, she continues to wiggle her body and her pom-pom’s, shouting ‘Go Eirik!’ repeatedly. After a few minutes of this, she stops to catch her breath, and shakes her head at Bastion, and his battle hungry cheer-dwarf. “Get those beasts under control!” She shouts, ignoring the fact that her squad had earlier shown the spectators their goodies. As Aurore and the Dwarf duke it out, she sighs, and motions for the Avian’s to cheer louder, and before long, a chorus of voices is cheering on the lycan. Before soon, Eirik aims to defend himself, although he does take a wound to his knee, and as he delivers a blow towards Shishi’s nose, Lana can’t help but clasp her hands together in anticipation. Would he hit his target?!

Bastion frowned at Lanara, next. Beasts? That was a pretty low thing to say. He shook his head, supposing he shouldn't be surprised at the lack of morality, though it surprised him to come from Lanara. The fight had begun, and he supposed he'd be needed with needle, not pom pom, soon enough. He took a seat, and crossed his legs primly, watching the fight.

Celaeno finds herself clapping, metal prostheses clanging together at both the simple but effective attack and ensuing avoidance of two of the three blows from her favored contender. She had half of mind to wish most of this was happening slower so she could take actual notes, but she has to settle for craning her chin up and focusing all of her attention on the bout so she can do as much later. If the tines of that trident bit that much, she could only imagine what the blunt end of that hammer would do to the other man's face!

Gevurah becomes peeved as she learns that Frostmawians selectively breed their society, yet her spies have somehow failed to learn this. Instead of revealing her ignorance any further, she feigns prior knowledge. "Ah yes, the Frostmawian breeding program. I did not know the studs were given titles. How many studs are chosen. Was he selected by the Queen. Is he to produce an heir to the throne or is he to father offspring for other purposes, such as soldiers."

Orikahn answers dutifully, if ufenthusiastically. His have slid down to the fight in progress. "One annually." "By the Queen directly." "Presumably the latter, though more likely for show than combat. They have giants, you know." Though Kahn may be busy with Gevurah's questions, elsewhere in the meanwhile, of his stout and ostensibly well-to do companions happens on his way back from concessions to pass Zedidiah in the stands. "You there," he snaps his fingers a couple time, "Zekiriah, the expert. What are you doing sitting all the way up here? Come on down ringside, the chaps would love it."

Shishi follows the rolling man well enough to get a good strike in, but he follows too closely after that satisfying connection, and puts himself within reach of the warhammer that comes at him just inches above the hard -unidentified- stone floor of the arena. He tries to jump over the swing at the last second, but he’s leaning forward for that last strike and even vampiric strength and agility can’t get him quite high enough. He gets one foot over the low hurdle, but the second gets clipped and sends the champion of winter flipping face first toward the ground. “Ouph.” ‘Clang’ The sound of Shishi hitting the ground and breaking his fall with his hands, one of them holding the trident. He rolls frantically to get back to his feet, while Eirik finishes his follow through and does the same. The lycan dives forward and the vampire dives away in the same moment, but he doesn’t leave his opponent nothing, instead, the heavy net is flung up into the air so that it is waiting for Eirik to leap into it. Tangled or not, Shishi is soon bringing the trident into a wide, overhead arc to swat at the former(?) berserker with the wide end of the fork like a fly swatter.

Ernest said, "ooc: I'm flagging for a butt-in, here. So that means Eirik finishes his post and then moi, right?"

Zedidiah OOCly Hereby Signals An Interruption before Shishi's Next Post

Gevurah considers this information carefully. There may come a day when the drow and Frostmaw will be at war once more, and only Vakmaharas knows how this knowledge will come in handy then. Her focus returns to the fight. Before this conversation with Kahn, the drow was indifferent as to the winner, but now she hopes Shishi wins if only to deprive Hilegarde of her prize stud.

Gevurah seems to think this is a battle to the death. She will be sorely disappointed.

Gevurah hopes that at the very least Shishi crushes Eirik's family jewels when Janita isn't looking. Take that, Hilegarde.

Hudson | With the combatants now rolling on the ground, Hudson and many others leap to their feet. "Come ON!" he shouts, at Eirik.

Janita sees all. Sorry, Gevurah.

Krice wasn't remotely as engaged in the battle as others who had come specifically to watch it, quietly observing the blood-sport with intermittent glances Leone's way. She could hold her liquor, to be sure, but even the high priestess of the City of War had her limits.

Celaeno 's hands cover her muffled gasp, then the cold metal reminds her what season it is and she quickly lowers them back to her sides. Too cold. The net has her on her toes now, quite literally since some a couple of dwarves decided to stack one on the other's shoulders right in her gap.

Leone is well on her way to being drunk. Most of the fifth of whiskey is gone and, barring a couple of drinks from her /first/ ale, so unceremoniously stolen by Eleanor, is half way through her new mug of ale. The smith tucks her bottom lip over her teeth, pins it with her tongue, and blasts out a shrill whistle toward the combatants. Bertram is, appropriately enough, mortified.

Lanara watches the fight, carefully pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of Shishi, and weighing the odds to be in Eirik’s favor. The elf is so in tune to the battle, that she stops cheering, and awkwardly holds her pom-poms at her sides. Cracking her neck to relieve tension, she spies Gevurah watching with a hopeful expression on her face. A drow. A look of sheer distaste marks Lana’s fair face, before she returns her gaze to the two men in the ring. She hopes that Eirik will be the champion. She hopes, at the very least, that Eirik doesn’t get his family jewels crushed. Her stud just may have a few heirs in his future. Who knows?

Khitti continues to watch the fight with bated breath as the two try to pummel each other to death. She’s also still stuffing popcorn into her mouth and washing it down with a liter of orange juice. It’d be even better if it was alcohol-infused orange juice, but alas, that shall have to wait until after the kid is born.

Krice will have to go before this is through, but has asked Leone to proxy for him <3 She knows Krice well enough. Will try to be back in about fifty mins. Might all be over by then but anyway, good luck and congrats to whoever the winner is!

Eirik can feel that rage burning within his minds eye, sending adrenaline and fury through his system, into every vein. The clubbing of Shishi does not go as planned, but he does not linger here! Despite heavy breaths and pain from Shishi’s previous strike, he has found himself moving forward and into the loving embrace of a net which has been tossed in a backpedal! The only thing he can do to respond to such a thing is twist, and extend the flat head of his Warhammer out to catch the net before it wraps him up. His attempt is partially successful, but still finds that net wrapping around his arms and back. While Eirik struggles to free himself of this trap, that swat meets with the Beserker. The sudden clang upon his spangenhelm is a loud noise that rattles through the stadium, sending stars through his mind! After affixing his gaze on Shishi and visibly shaking his head, he steps forward, clearing the muddled effect further. Eirik gives one violent swipe of his maul that clears the net from the rest of his frame - and brings the head of his hammer to a height directly above his head, and swings with every fiber of his being in a downwards slam to smash into the shoulder of his opponent, to perhaps hit and dislocate the arm wielding that weapon! Hit or miss, its raised again, and the head is used in an attempt to simply thrust and bludgeon the Titans midsection!

Gevurah erupts in a cheer for the strike that rings through the stadium. "Crush him!"

Orikahn now, after having finished 20 questions, decides it's time to hit the kegs. Some while and a lot of shouting later, he comes out of concessions with a keg on his shoulder to much ringside praise. A loud whistle makes him flinch. He turns to reprimand the whistler but instead finds the rebuff turning into a grin. "She-Who-Cooks-Herself," the cat greets her and manhandles the keg around until he can turn the tap and top off her flagon. Some ale was spilled in the attempt.

Ernest finished his incantations and grinned widely. The fight was going well, and they seemed pretty evenly matched—so let’s see what happens when a little… something… happens. He grabbed his hat, rose out of his chair and stepped into the stairwell between seats. He channeled a bit of power into the runes of his outfit, igniting them with a sudden flame. Nothing he ever did was subtle, so why start now? He lifted his crossbow, channeled a bit of energy into the runes on the crosspieces, and fired. The runes stiffened the metal of the weapon, increasing the draw weight past what it might be normally, which would give the weapon the reach it needed to get to its target. Ernest had altered the curse—instead of needing to hit a particular part of any target’s body, now it only needed one particular person: Shishi. Hopefully, the crossbow bolt itself would be as wounding as a bee sting, but the curse contained inside was a vicious one: The Curse of the Wandering Child. Should he get hit, Shishi might suddenly feel a rush of possible scenarios, new ideas for combat, predictions for the fight… but they’d all rapidly slip away just as easily, and be replaced with new ones, to slip away and be replaced with new ones. A ceaseless torrent of ideation, which may or may not even be relevant. Should Eirik get hit instead, the curse would dissipate harmlessly—it was Shishi who Ernest properly disliked.

Bastion couldn't help but notice the bolt sent flying, the runes flaring. Not that he could do a damn thing about it... but he watched nonetheless, noting Ernest, and his curse.

Zedidiah finishes off his banana as he grumbles about the dwarves not remembering his name, but outwardly is all smiles and begins to throw away the peel when, darn slippery thing, it pops out of his hand. He grabs for it with his other hand, forgetting it was covered in sausage grease, and with a slick splat the fruit refuse goes flying. In horror, Zedidiah watches it describe a beautiful parabola through the air before landing right near Shishi's feet, a slippery banana peel covered in grease. Zedidiah hurries down to sit ringside among his hopeful future business partners, wide eyes watching the peel and hoping nobody else saw that. "Yes yes," he bluffs. "Nets. Well versed in them. Just the thing for catching land sharks."

Janita will post in after Shishi and Eirik's next posts.

Gevurah notices the bolt flying and grins. This is getting good. She should come to this arena more often.

Khitti sees the bolt. And then the banana peel. What the actual frak. She’d, you know, warn Shishi, but… there’s a lot of screaming going on. So, she’s really only able to just kind of watch, a weird mix of shock and amusement written on her face.

Celaeno 's rapt attention was actually caught by a flaring of light and heat nearby. Had...had a man just ignighted himself? Not one to intervene, her squinting did catch the bolt flying and recognition of the runes on the crossbow...and the combination! The man was studied with more curiosity than the fight, after all, it wasn't every day she got to see someone else use her handiwork. The bolt is followed just then, even more intrigued since she suspected what it was for as she redirects eyes toward the target: the fight contestants.

Lanara sees the flying bolt, senses the curse, and widens her eyes. And here she thought she was the only witch in this arena?! Hands are planted on her hips, as she waits to see just who the intended target is, her heart in her throat. Following Bastion’s intent gaze upon Ernest, she dubs him the spell caster, and she tries to remember his facial features, should she need to hunt him down later.

Hudson is losing his mind with this match but his attention now follows the roar and attention of the crowd to Ernest, who has just lit himself on fire apparently. And also, apparently, fired at the combatants. "Holy--" he exclaims, the next word drowned out by several people in the general vicinity shouting the same thing.

Zedidiah quietly counts his blessings for the perfect crime. A man lights himself on fire and shoots Shishi! Nobody would pay attention to a banana peel in that. Oh no, Shishi!! He clutches his collectible figurine (Not a doll)

Blut watches the bolt fly swiftly covering his eyes as to see the mana of all. He memorized the colour of the spell finding someone in the crowd that matched. He had to need to remember their face just the colour of their mana. Blut guessed he might have a job on his hands.

Lanara groans as the fight begins to take unexpected turns. Banana peels and self-combustion?! And here she was worried about her squad baring their chests, earlier?! What would happen next?!

Bastion seems to be surrounded by the avian cheerleading squad, blushing and fidgeting with his hands in his lap, while they explain to him how fabulous he is. A certain blonde seems to be smitten with him, tying bows on his horns, while the others work on his make up.

Leone looks at the flaming zombie..mummy...whatever. The smith snorts a laugh, and then looses an entirely bemused cackle. "Nope," she declares, waggling a finger at the crowd (not that any were listening to her), "Definitely not holy!" The farrier tries to properly focus on the flaming idiot in their midsts and, realizing that she knows this particular flaming idiot, turns on the Mom voice. "Ernest! Shame on you! You put that fire out before you hurt someone." Nothing is said about firing a crossbow into melee combat - let alone all of the innocent bystanders. Maybe she didn't see that part.

Shishi is hop-stepping left and right in anticipation of Eirik’s strike, but Ernest’s thing is shooting people, so that back and forth movement isn’t enough to keep the vampire from getting hit by the little crossbow bolt shot by a dude that he’s already killed once. Then everything happens to the poor innocent Titan of Winter all at once. He hops, Eirik swings, the bolt connects into his left thigh, and he lands on the greased up banana peel that is on a smooth stone floor. Disaster. He raises the trident up with both hands horizontally to try and catch or deflect the hammerhead, but he gets shot and slips on the refuse hazard. He goes down, but not faster than the hammer, which finds its mark and does what it was meant to, causing his left arm to go limp at his side while the trident clatters to the ground. “What the he-!?” ‘Eirik is going to swing again, I better get out of the way. I better punch him. No, I better kick him in the jewels!’ The curse is already messing with his already scattered thoughts, so he’s going to have to let someone (something) else make his decisions for him. His own curse springs to life, giving his normally blue eyes an eerie crimson glow and sending an ominous pulse of staticy energy to flow through every shadow cast around the arena. True fans of The Blue Demon’s fights know what this is, and they get even more excited in the crowd. The assassin’s own shadow detaches itself from the floor and engulfs his limp left arm. Increasing it’s length and volume twofold so that he is now sporting a working, gigantic arm made of living shade. The massive black hand on the end of that enhanced arm reaches up and catches the head of the hammer as it comes down again, promptly shoving it back towards Eirik’s face. Shishi, for his part, still looks like he can’t make up his mind as to what to do next. He’s pushing himself to his feet while the arm appears to act on it’s own to protect and maim, perhaps not in that order.

Gevurah , for a moment there, thought Shishi would kick Eirik in the family jewels. Awww nuts.

Khitti notices that Shishi can’t seem to decide on what to do, so she yells, “Get rid of the trident and give him a right hook!” She even punches at the air as if she had her own opponent. Brand rubs at his jaw, haunted by the Ghost of Right Hooks Past.

Lanara spies her squad taking a long, and much needed break from cheering, though as Teana flops onto Bastion’s lap, her jaw drops. Teana? Little blonde Teana was fawning over Goat Boy?! What the hell was going on here?! Just add this to the list of oddities already occurring, and this place was turning into a circus. You had the petting zoo to the right. The man on fire in the center. And the food, including banana’s. Lana rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and silently fumes. Her lycan had trained hard for this, and all of these fools were making a mockery of the fight! Dropping her pom-pom’s she crosses her arms, and vows to ignore everyone and everything, aside from the happenings inside the ring.

Eleanor 's brows shot up with amused shock - this fight was -way- better than she thought it would be. "Whit in th' -heel-," she spat under her breath, barely subduing a throaty chuckle. Sending Leone a nudge in the ribs with her cloak-wrapped elbow, she turned to the blacksmith to give her an 'Are you -seeing- this?' look. But of course the plover was already yelling at the effigy with familiarity; El was forced go let out a low whistle of appreciation. Watching the scene unfold and refold and unfold some more, the leader of rogues had the brilliant idea of sending Blut after Ernest - with actual pay this time and not just letting one of her own go, well, rogue. The gears whirling in her mind fend off that same damned headache, but at least now she was much more intrigued by what she was witnessing. She even went so far as to steal someone's popcorn as they moved to get a better view of the mayhem.

Khitti has her popcorn stolen by Eleanor, "Hey!" She looks like she might bite Eleanor. Good thing for the spellrogue, she's not a vampire anymore. Orikahn has rather jovially tasked himself with filling flagons (and Zed's empty snow cone) with ale, and it might become apparent now why the dwarves have bothered to keep Kahn around at all. Orikahn's senses tingle as the bolt passes over his head, but he simply swats above his ears as one shoos a fly and carries on. The security, with their billy clubs and their bright red and white uniforms, are not so oblivious. They're already exchanging very serious glances and moving toward Ernest's position, hopefully before any kind of mob panic could break out. A shooter in the arena is no laughing matter, after all.

Eirik finds the confusion of this fight to be of grim satisfaction. For one, a bolt has been launched at Shishi. For two a Banana peel is stealing any glory he had hoped to obtain from this fight outside of the Titans of Winter Tournament. Even though his initial strike is successful, he’s irritated and almost throws out every cuss word imaginable in a vile display of poor manners! His neck bulges from the irritation, but he stifles back those screams. His heart beat rapidly, his body growing tired. The wound upon his leg still bleeding but the show must go on, right? When magic cuts out into the scene, he has no clue what to do without his trusty shield. This gaudy warhammer is not what he’s used too! His eyes grow wide, and that massive shadow arm snatches the weapon and pushes it towards him! He has only minimal time to react and even that isn’t enough! The hammer's head does not meet his facial features. Instead, the struggle had veered his own weapon off course, the haft slamming into Eiriks collarbone with a sickening thud - throwing the poor bastard to the ground. If the attack did not dislocate his arm, the hard collision upon the stone ground has done so! He stifles back further bellows and catches the breath which has been knocked from his lungs. Eiriks hand reaches to push against the stone ground and he climbs up to his wobbly knees grunting with the effort he has given. It’s either fight for the maul or attempt something else! Which he does, snatching the Trident up in one motion and simply thrusting the thing at Shishi’s side.

Janita saw the bolt but, well, short of throwing herself in front of it, she couldn't stop it. And she was a referee, not a bodyguard. Shishi was hit and went down (though whether that was the bolt or a banana's doing was unclear), and she made her decision. “That's it! We're done here!” she called out. “Shishi, Eirik, stop what you're doing, NOW!” She might not have been willing to take a crossbow bolt but she could more easily grab the trident. She was stronger than she looked, and kept the trident from hitting true. “I said THAT'S ENOUGH! This fight is over!” She rounded on Eirik. “YOU. You think you can come in here, have someone shoot your opponent, and then hit him while he's down! I don't think so! We were going to have the crowd judge, but I'm not going to bother. Get your cowardly, cheating ass out of here. YOU. LOSE.”

Zedidiah quaffs ale cone like it can solve all his problems. If anyone pins this on him they might kick him out of the official Shishi fan club. To calm his nerves he starts discussing concession options with the dwarven backers. "See it's about efficiency. You need to prepare a vast quantity of food that each use discarded parts of each other, so nothing goes to waste."

Khitti is deterred from her popcorn again and just blinks at the outcome of the fight. If she knew anything about Eirik--and she knew a little from their time together in the Warrior’s Guild--this was bound to piss him off. And a pissed of berserker lycan was not a good thing to be around. Concern suddenly washes over her and she looks to Brand, who’s own face was mirroring her anxiety, “This probably isn’t going to end well.” But, they continued to remain seated for the time being, not wanting to make the chaos Ernest had created worse.

Lanara glares at Janita, and is about to climb into the ring herself and duke it out with the referee, when she finds her arm grabbed by one of the security guards grabs her roughly by the arm, a billy club in his hand. “Get your hands off of me!” She grumbles, kicking the man in the shin, and swatting at the appendage that has a hold of her forearm. “Eirik didn’t cheat! He didn’t do anything wrong! He came here and won fair and square! It’s not his fault that your security sucks! That Ref doesn’t know what she’s talking about!!!” The witch is fuming, her cheeks are crimson, and she spits in the man’s face. “I will hex you! Your whole family! Let me go!!!” The guard doesn’t know what to do with the brunette, so he calls for back-up, though the other guards are in hot pursuit of Ernest. So he merely keeps a tight hold on Lana’s arm, trying his best to not slug the little witch, though he keeps delivering threats and waving the club in her face.

Blut took out a pair of shurikens as he laced them both with sedatives. Both especially powerful made for hunting mammoths. If these puppys could put those to sleep then imagine how effective they would be on human sized animals. Blut looked onwards to see if anyone would make rash moves.

Shishi hears ‘right hook’ and thinks, ‘I can do that!’ He starts following after his own giant black arm to go punch Eirik in the face, but then Ernest’s wicked spell has him rethinking that. ‘What if I go get the hammer and beat him up with his own weapon? Heh.’ Genius idea! He turns and starts for the dropped warhammer, but the shadow arm is literally pulling him in the opposite direction, because it wants to punch Eirik too. Janita jumps in while Shishi is engaged in a literal tug of war with himself, against himself (kind of), the vampire running in place facing the hammer, his feet slipping on the floor, while the shadowy arm flails towards the feline and lycan. More scattered thoughts run through his head and at some points he gets dragged a foot or two towards his opponent while he looks through the crowd trying to figure out who would shoot him, the famed Titan of Winter! It was probably that horrible priestess.

Hudson begins loudly protesting, and then booing, when Janita intervenes and declares Eirik the loser.

Hudson thinks that Eirik needs an angry manager to get out there. Free Lanara!

Janita can and will electrocute anyone who tries to fight her right now.

Ernest heard a familiar voice tell him to stop being on fire and managed to pry his attention away from the fight. At first, he paused. Now that he'd done what he came for, maybe he ought to put out the fire. On the other hand, his attention was caught by the guards coming his way. That made it time to get out of here--and if they caught him, the fire would make it harder to beat him. Ninjas can't catch you if you're on fire, so why should thugs be able to? Just in case, however, he loaded one crossbow with a Curse of the Vulture's Shadow and the other with normal crossbow bolts as he moved. It was high time for him to get out of Dodge.

Hudson | Some in the crowd begin throwing food in the direction of Janita.

Aurore | Aurore catches some of the thrown food and stores it in her very pragmatic yet stylish and inadvertently trendy elven leathers.

Krice clearly felt no need to step in and try calm things. He remained off to the side, watching the chaos while lingering near Leone and Bertram. Eirik finds himself looking towards the ref of this game, Janita with a fire in his eyes. Despite the pain his body is wrapped up in, the bloodied led and useless arm - he is a Berserker. He had come here this night in complete honesty, seeking a good match against the Titan. How dare she even proclaim such untruths. He’d have a mind to turn on this damnable creature who dared to even snatch that weapon from his grasp. That hatred within his world starts to warp his own vision, he is seething, and both fists ball up. Shishi’s panicked dash towards him or rather, dragging by a large shadow arm is looked upon momentarily. If this was to be their decision so be it. But Eirik has more than a few fancy words for Janita, but stifles them down. It’s against his nature to cheat, honestly, and Lanara’s own words confirm it. The crowd is in an uproar, and Shishi is still reacting to whatever that bolt was laced with. His gaze moves back to Gevurah, the drow who had announced the bout. Is Eirik really booted from the match for something he didn’t do?

Lanara is still kicking and screaming, one hand pointing towards Janita, while the other is held firmly by the security guard. “I will kill you! Come down here and fight me, you little bit-“ Her words are cut off, as that billy club is raised and is bashed against her chest, knocking the wind from her small frame. Biting her tongue in the process, she spits blood, and groans. That really hurt! She nearly loses consciousness, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins is enough to have her weakly raise her head and see her lycan’s form. He definitely had a broken collarbone, an injured knee, and who know what else?! She had to get to him. Or die trying. This whole event was fixed, in some way, and she would –not- stand by and let her man take the fall. Bringing her right knee up, she knees the guard in the jewels, and uses that moment of distraction to make a mad dash for the ring. However, as the crowd is throwing food, she is pelted in the head with a cucumber. Who brought vegetables to a fight?! Lana rounds on the crowd, her dark eyes full of accusations, though her target remains Janita, and as she spins on her heel, she locks eyes with the feline.

Leone clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Still, the farrier seems none the worse for wear - let alone bothered - by the cacophony and infighting that the brawling arena has degenerated into. She instead approaches the cat with the keg, and holds up two fingers. "G'devening, Kahn," the smith smears out, "Hell of a thing ya got here. Good job. Reminds me of home." One of the ales will be offered to Krice, though she already knows he probably won't take it.

Hudson has now lost a somewhat substantial sum of money and, feeling salty by what he views to be bad refereeing, he pushes through the crowd, which is on its feet, and weaves his way down to the combatants. "Come on, ref!" he shouts at Janita. "What is that?" he waves his hands aggressively. "You can't call it like that, who says it wasn't related to him," he gesticulates wildly at Shishi. "I want a replay, do we have a mage? I want to see the replay, let's put the play under review. This is racism." He gestures at a row of guards, who are approaching, but only to escort him off the field.

Janita is afraid of neither Eirik nor Lanara. She would knock them both the eff out if she had to. She totally could, too, you guys.

Janita looked to Hudson. "Shishi is shot. Eirik, instead of stopping, tried to skewer him. You have some proof this wasn't his doing?"

Eleanor chose this time to straighten from her casual spectator's pose, emptying off the stolen bottle of ale before slipping quietly toward one of the exits. It was her time to depart, the rogue decided; there was work to be done, and so she hastened away back to Cenril.

Gevurah leaps to her feet, excited by the prospect of stealing back the sword that was stolen from her estate. The dark priestess cares not who wins, why, or even for a fair fight (cheating is fine in the drow etiquette manual). She keeps her eye on the literal prize, soon to be hers, and declares, "The Marshal has declared Eirik disqualified!" That's when she notices Eirik's behavior, his unnatural rage, and deduces that he needs a liiiittle push to lose his grip--so she goes all in. "You!" she points at him, "A cheat!" She gestures at him, her stuble and queer hand motions a subtle code in the infrared sign language of the drow. Her signs alert her guard to look alert, they will soon attempt to steal the sword in the chaos she hopes to sew. "How dare you attempt to sully a champion's record by unfairly rigging the fight in your favor! You are a disgrace! Your city is ashamed of you! When they hear of this, they'll revoke your title of King of Love and Beauty! You bring shame to lycans everywhere!" Aurore is honestly starting to like civilization a little bit now.

Bastion had left behind his crowd of cheerleaders, and rushed to Lanara's side, warding off any others who might harm her. He wouldn't sit by with a friend in danger. And so, Lanara would be heading up a posse consisting of herself, and a little femboy in a miniskirt, with beautiful make up and ribbons on his horns.

Orikahn is at last torn from his rollicking by a powerful shift in atmosphere. There are loud boos, jeers, flying food. Security is moving! The wealthy dwarves seem to sober in an instant, and they scatter to begin assisting the guards, addressing the crowd. A couple beckon Janita over. One gives Orikahn a "look." The feline sets the keg down and begins cracking his knuckles. Elsewhere in the stadium, a dense crowd parts very quickly when a flaming mummy is running toward them, security close on Ernest's heels, billy clubs in the air. They pass a street performer in the lobby whose lively saxaphone melody compliments the chaos too well.

Hudson is being politely thrown out of the match. "He was in the middle of a match! Where's a mage, I want this play under review!" he roars at Janita, just before he gets pulled back. Just as well, his arms are itching something awful. Hudson practices some self-control exercises he has learned to avoid wolf raging, and allows himself to be led away. Whereupon he obtains, somehow, sunglasses and a mustachioed facial hair disguise. He sneaks back in and skulks about angrily and no one is fooled.

Khitti watches as Gevurah attempt to push Eirik farther into that rage of his. She pushes herself to her feet finally, a frown firmly planting itself on her lips, “Gevurah! What the frak are you doing?!” Sewing discord amongst the surface-dwellers and almost surface-dwellers as she normally does, Khitti, you know the answer to this already.

Shishi is now 75% sure this weirdo drow shot him. No, 85 percent. No, 50. Actually, maybe it was that woman trying to get into the ring. She seems crazy. Do they have blood wine here? Does he still have to do the autograph meet and greet after this? He pulls a crossbow bolt out of his thigh roughly while still walking in the opposite direction of his shadowy arm's desire.

Krice neared Leone to take the ale, and in the midst of the chaos, he swigged half the beverage before lowering the mug to the table. With an irritable sigh, the warrior said to his divine companion - and apparently also to the nearby Orikahn, " This is ridiculous." His eyes passed obey the obnoxiously proclamating Gevurah, who didn't hold a special place in his heart but he remembered her well enough for reasons. Underground filth. Whilst others joined the fray, he stayed off to the side, quiet and irritably observant.

Orikahn glances shiftily one side to the other, but he cannot leave the farrier with an empty cup. "Storm's brewing, priestess. You might want to take cover." He tips the foamy head onto the stone, tops her off the rest of the way. "Just in case."

Aurore dives between two bare-chested dwarves and leans into a catlike crouch, lingering on the fringes of the heckled and hawing crowd. A vendor screams something about sweet things made of cotton directly into her keen ear, forcing her to slap him so hard the sweet cotton whatevers go floating through the musty air like so many cherry pink clouds. On her way down from the bleachers, the spry young lass throws caution to the wind and walks all the way to Shishi, reaching into her pouch of herbs and procuring fresh bandages from the pocket that isn't harboring what remains of her hot dog. "I can save your life, I guess."

Blut shakes his head as he just thinks nope. As he listened to the drow talk attempting to throw the beserker into a rage. He threw the two shurikens as at the two warriors. Both in areas their armour did not protect their flesh and where it would not kill them. The seditive should knock either one of them out in minutes if it got into their bodies. Blut procceeded to walk down to the guards and requesting to talk to the ref. Orikahn hands Krice his flagon likewise. "Think you're sober enough for a fight?" It's an honest question without any hint of hyperbole, and as soon as his hands are free again, Orikahn's unclasping his own cloak, freeing up his limbs for some rough and tumble, just in case it comes to it. Leone nods silently to Orikhan, taking the refilled mug with a raised salute of thanks. "I am the oncoming storm," she declares to the Huntsman, one brow raised in query, "If you need me to be. But it looks like you've got things well enough handled here. Still, I'll be around to heal both combatants...and remove that curse from Shishi."

Eirik finds this whole thing ludacris, a Drow of all people calling him a cheat? The anger within him turns his knuckled grip into one of white knuckles. He’s being fueled by those accusations, and instead finds himself settling on Lanara. There would be no Berserker today. Whether Shishi can hear it or not Eirik speaks to the Vampire, “Another time, perhaps when others don’t intervene.” He had given up on this match and it’s outcome, and instead turns on heel and exits the stage furious over the match. How disappointing, Eirik a cheat! The fist of his good arm collides with the stage exterior and the Lycan begins to walk away. He knows when someone is trying to rile him up and he would have no more of it. Khitti motions for Brand to leave the rest of their snacks and to help her out of the seating area. She wanted to help Shishi, but there was no way she could get involved right now, not in her current condition. Thankfully this super weird lady just literally dived in to save Blue and Khitti was left to worry a little less. Brand escorted her well away from the crowd that had formed thanks to all that arguing about the winner, but managed to find a spot safe enough where they could still be onlookers.

Lanara can’t tell if she’s more hurt at the accusations being thrown at Eirik, or from the clubbing she took to her chest. It hurts to breathe. She wants out of here. She wants to head back to Venturil with her lycan, and never return to this twisted place again. Flicking her gaze at Gevurah, she sneers. “You shut up, you bottom-feeding drow. You’re disgusting. Low-life trash. I can see why you have to live underground with a face like that!” To Janita, she points, the rage evident in her gaze. “You have just earned yourself a death warrant. You’ve been warned.” To Shishi, she merely looks at the man, her gaze filming with tears. “I don’t know who has marked you tonight, but it was –not- Eirik. He is a man of honor, unlike the rest here.” Catching her breath, she’s about to issue some further threats, when the guard behind her straightens up and yanks her back, by her pony-tail. “Hey! Let me go!”Clearly, he had recovered from that kick to his jewels.

Zedidiah has managed to find another sausage, and munches on it quietly, alone, ringside. "The meet and greet is after the winners ceremony, right?" He asks nobody.

Celaeno watches the ensuing chaos with a frown and crossed arms. What proof did the referee have that the assault was connected? As much as she didn't have any proof for or against the logical leap, it still seemed more of a suspendable offense than a disqualifiable defense. For her part, she boos plenty, and didn't notice the berzerker's offense gradually building ont a bloodrage.

Janita regarded Lanara with a curled lip. "And you call ME a bitch. Get the hell out." To the guard, she said, "Stop yanking her hair, gods, what are you, 5? Take her by the arm and lead her out."

Bastion is behind Lanara in an instant, and the guard that had grabbed at her pony tail is on his knees, drooling like he'd been the victim of a lobotomy. He would put an arm around Lanara, and steer her towards Eirik. "Miss Lanara, it might be a good time to leave." His voice was controlled, measured. He was so very calm…

Celaeno wasn't afforded the privaledge of seeing said bloodrage, either, so more booing ensues.

Gevurah , seeing that taunting Eirik didn't work, opts for Plan B. With Lanara so close, the drow reaches down to grab Lanara by the hair and smash her face into the raised platform on which the judge sits. If she has the time, she'll kick it too. That should get this brawl going, and the berserker fuming. Meanwhile, Blut has beaten Gevurah to the fight by attacking her guards. One guard takes a shuriken to the shoulder, but the other reacts in time to deflect it with his iron bracers then draws his sword an charges the RTR guards protecting the prizes. Gevurah jumps then levitates above the crowd and casts a protective, semi-transparent sphere around herself to deflect missiles and minor spells. She floats towards the prizes' chests and shoots a guard in the face with a fireball.

Aurore is standing here in the middle of literally shurikens trying to save a man's life.

Khitti believes in Aurore. You can do the thing.

Janita 's eyes widened as Gevurah tried to assault Lanara. "Hey!" She launched herself at Gevurah, aiming to pin her to the ground. If she missed, she'd be up in an instant and ready to rumble.

Gevurah had levitated just as Janita leaped at her!

Krice took Orikahn's flagon and promptly dismissed it to the counter top, scowling at the catman. " I'm not throwing in with the drivel," he grumbled, thereafter looking back at Leone before searcjig for Aurore. Was she capable of defending herself? Was something helping? If she appeared not to require his assistance then the man would divert his attention to the high priestess. " When you're ready to leave, I'm coming with." Gevurah's violence against Lanara caught the warrior's eye and he reached over his shoulder to grab at the sword mounted on his back, ready to withdraw it. Janita snarled and her mouth opens, revealing sharp teeth and... lightning? Her hood fell from her head, revealing horns upon her otherwise feline features. With a saurian roar, a bolt of blue lightning flies from her mouth and towards Gevurah.

Lanara smiles at Bastion as he frees her from the guard’s grasp, while ignoring any further babbling from Janita. “Thanks, Goat Boy…” However, her moment of freedom is short-lived as Gevurah grabs her by the hair and aims to smash her face into the platform. The plan is foiled, as Lana crosses her arms and instead smashes her forehead against her own body, hence shielding her attack. The cheer leader spins on her heel, and aims to punch the repulsive drow in the face, but finds that the woman is now levitating, over the crowd. This wasn’t her fight. Not right now. Lana looks towards the exit, and catches her lycan leaving, the witch shoving her way through the crowd of spectators and running over to him. “Let’s go home?”

Celaeno 's booing dies out amid the chaos that suddenly erupts. Fireballs and guards, shurikens and assassins and a whole host of rude assaults from that dark-skinned elven woman serving as announcer. She ducks under the stands, for her part, oblivious to what exactly had caused things to devolve so fast!

Shishi blinks at Aurora, "Am I dying?" She's in range of his giant left arm, so it decides to stop trying to get to Eirik and wheels around to swing a wicked hard punch towards her face. "Gwah~!" the assassin yelps while forcing his eyes to reverse through their accursed change and turn the lethalized shadows back into regular harmless ones that float wheightlessly back down to the floor, leaving his dislocated left arm limp at his side again.

Shishi says to Eirik that, "I'll see you at the end of the mountain tournament. Maybe." Then Gev does her thing. She is insane.

Bastion is too slow to help protect Lanara from the drowesses assault, but Lanara see's well enough to her own protection, and pushes her way beyond the brawl, to leave with someone she'd be safe with. That worked well. Now, Bastion was paying more attention... and figuring out quickly that the drowess had loftier goals in mind than a brawl. He drew his bow, and sprouted pink wings, taking to the air, and diving to place himself in Gevurah's way, arrow knocked and pointing towards her. He'd let loose a single shaft at her... an arrow that did no harm, but could very well paralyze her with a touch.

Ernest was, by this point, outside the arena. He extinguished his flame, leaped aboard his horse and flicked a utility knife at the rope which tied it in place. "Hyah!" He turned and clattered away swiftly, throwing a smoke bomb behind himself to disguise his escape. He had run in circles enough to hear the chaos that had been sown in part due to his actions. Maybe this would get Shishi's attention proper.

Eirik does not have the energy to go Berserk at this point, though he is angered, it won't happen. He's tired and sore, wounded from his bout with Shishi. Even Gevurah's assaults against Lanara does nothing to stir his interest into an all out brawl - he has turned to escape the stage. Besides even if he saw it he knows Lanara can handle herself, and should probably get away before the Drowess seeks to start all out war. It is satisfying to know, however, that he and Gilwen had snuck into that drow house and stolen an artifact. That simple thing is enough of a victory for him over this maddened Drow. Eiriks slow paced limps continue to carry him through the crowd.

Aurore totally assumed that Shishi was dying, because he seemed like he was having a very bad time. She'd brought her herbs and even her bandages expressly to stop him from dying. One shudders to think what goes through her poor head when instead of rescuing a dying man, she finds herself very nearly made victim by a giant arm. She gets down on all fours like some kind of fair forest creature, you decide which one, it doesn't matter, and she grabs a knife to subdue her opponent. "Y'all ever seen knives?" Aurore asks angrily, bitterly. But the giant arm falls by the wayside, and she's left with the strange undying man she'd so hoped to save. "Well, whatever. I-it's not like I wanted to s-save you, anyway. You don't look so good though, honest. So I'm just gonna throw these herbs all over you because I have a bunch more where they came from, anyway, it's not like I care." She tosses her healing herbs all over Shishi, which may have the unintended effect of making him see things that are not there. Blut finds himself at the arena floor. With all hell breaking loose he's sure noone would mind him getting lost. Bastion might even recognize the man as he walked past the pair. If anything he gets to see drow magic up close. The metal mask shielding his vision and allowing him to see magic. Blut approached Shishi fully prepared to dodge that shadow arm to reach the drow. The man threw his holy dagger in the same spot janita was breathing lighting in the hopes to pierce the barrier.

Khitti is suddenly not a very happy lady right now as a fireball had nearly managed to pummel her in the face (thankfully, Brand’s much quicker on his feet than Khitti is right now and helped her to scoot out of the way. But, it’s only stirred the anger of the soon-to-be-mother and she’s quick to throw up a wall of shadowflames around the prizes that Gevurah seeks to steal.

Leone belches, loudly. She looks up and Krice and nods. Bertram is also by her side, and the priestess flails for the paladin's hand. She siezes it, and begins to stumble-slash-lunge for the exit. "Time to go," the farrier proclaims.

Orikahn nods eagerly to Leone. "Sooner the better," he encourages her, "because I think," his eyes follow Gevura as she levitates past overhead, "that we have some bad juju afoot." Krice's dignified insistence earns a double-take from the sabertooth. "You're not..." Kahn's head cocks to the side, utterly puzzled, but there's no time for second-guesses. "Bah!" It's all he can manage to get out before turning and pouncing one of Gevurah's guards, his transformation from jolly flagon wrangler to man-eating beast utterly sudden and terrifyingly complete. The crowd has ample reason to panic at this point, which they do.

Krice realized that Lanara was able to protect herself from the worst of Gevurah's intended attack, and with the cheerleader moving away alongside her injured companion, he opted not to step in. With Leone ready to depart and orikahn dancing into the fray, the warrior move close to Leone to guide her outside, pushing aside careless brawlers - with Bertram undoubtedly doing the same - who got too close.

Gevurah 's protective orb shudders as it repels Bastion's first arrow. The drowess scowls as she feels her shield grow weaker. One of her guards charges at Bastion on the ground, swinging a sword for the goat boy's neck. Above, Gevurah recites a quick incantation to detect powerful holy magic. The spell leads her to the correct crate and she signals for the drow on the ground to fetch it. "Hurry!" the matron shouts in drow the her guards below. But they're repeled by Khitti's shadow flames. Recognizing the necromancer's signature spell, Gevurah turns on the pregnant woman as she reaches into her piwafwi for iron dust. "You! Stand down!" The drow flicks the iron dust at Khitti's face, and mid-air they turn into sharp spikes moving with the speed of an arrow. Suddenly, a bright light erupts from behind the shadowflames, and a crate bursts with a heave and an explosive crack. A golden sword leaps through Khitti's shadowflames like it was no more powerful than fog. Gevurah's iron spikes slow midair, and strike Tenabtsu Kaji's broadside, which hovers inches before Khitti's face. From inside the sword, Seika calls Khitti's name in a warm, soothing voice, a ray of sunny calm in the growing dingy chaos.

Janita panted, her throat tingling and numb. She wouldn't be able to do THAT again any time soon. And now there was a floating, shining sword. She was not being paid enough to deal with this. Wait... was she getting paid at all? Either way, it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

Celaeno was still huddled and hiding between the bleachers, attempting not to get trampled by any other fleeing audience members. The thought does occur to her she should probably flee with them sometime soon…

Orikahn is busy doing what he loves most, namely, tearing the warm, living throat out of a dying elf, doesn't matter the color. The RTR as an organization is, at present, in a tizzy trying to run damage control, with dwarves running hither and thither. Many shout curses, several fire crossbows at Gevurah only to discover their bolts harmlessly deflected. One of the dwarven backers throws his hammer in an impotent gesture of rage and defiance, sending it spinning uselessly toward the force bubble. For the most, part, though, they are concerned with the duty of urging angry, frightened fans out of the cavern. This is a thankless and difficult taks.

Khitti was damn near about to turn those flames onto the drow matron herself until the sword burst through crate and came to a stop, hovering just in front of her. There’s a bit of comedic side-eyeing, from Brand, to the sword, to Gevurah, to the sword again, then to the crowd, and back to the sword. That… that sword was definitely talking to her. “What the actual frak,” was declared promptly by the Catalian at Khitti’s side, the statement mirroring her thoughts. Gingerly, she reached forward to take the weapon from mid-air. “Um, hi.” Khitti just talked to the sword. Surely, she was mad? The holy magic that emanated from the weapon caused her to wince a little, the power of the light dampening her own shadowy magic somewhat. “Brand, I think we need to leave. I think we need to leave right the frak now.” Gevurah would not take this lightly. And Orikahn was in murderkitty mode. With a nod in agreement, the two would take the sword that literally threw itself at Khitti and made for the exit as quickly as possible.

Gevurah 's shield crumbles under the assault of so many missiles and Gevurah takes an arrow to the arm. Wounded, she and the other drow make a hasty and shadowy escape.

Shishi is herbed. “What the heck?!” He’s been cursed with some kind of attention deficit disorder, mario karted, and now herbed by some Tsun-Tsun? He sees two Aurore and starts telling off the one that isn’t actually there. “How is plants supposed to help my arm? I’m going to-! You!” He switches his attention to Gevurah, whom there are three of picks up his trident from the ground, there looked like there were two of them, but he picked the right one, and throws it at the Gevurah to the left of the real Gevurah. “Ya ruined the fight!” He blinks at the sword, which is so holy he wouldn’t have been able to touch it even if he won it. “What is that?”

Aurore is the tsundere queen tyvm.

Zedidiah watches everything devolve into chaos as he munches his sausage. This... this might not be normal, he is beginning to suspect. More crowd participation than he had heard. Still, he isn't about to leave early and miss the meet and greet.

Shishi still does the meet and greet for Zed and the other super fans who were brave and hopeful enough to stick around. However, his dominant arm is out of commission, so he has to sign the autographs with his off hand, reducing their value at resale.