THE FIRST RULE ABOUT FIGHT CLUB IS THAT THIS ISN'T FIGHT CLUB

[saam]

WHO:Eshal and EVERYBODY, you're all invited. You don't have to have expressed interest oocly or icly before now to participate!
WHAT: The first inaugural Riftwatch underground boxing tournament... thing.
WHEN: Feel free to hit this up whenever, presumably it's taking place at various times over the month.
WHERE: The back room of the Boar & Bat pub.
NOTES: Violence! Gambling! Anything worse than that, I'll let you know.

The back room of the pub is no special beauty, but it's workable. A dirt floor, a bar with drinks and a bartender, and a circle drawn in the middle with chalk. Eshal is on the side, acting as referee for matches, and moving through the crowd in between bouts. She's convivial, crassly cheerful, and, at 6'2", impossible to miss.

But perhaps most notable is the sign stolen from the front, and pinned to the wall, in clear view of the crowd. Beneath it, someone has scrawled into the wall: LEAVE SOBER.

(credit to Beka for the wonderful sign!)

THE MATCHES

It's time to fight! The rules are simple, as outlined by Eshal and her booming voice at the beginning of every match:

No kicking. No punching below the belt. No hitting while they're down. Stop when the referee says so. First person who can't get back up after a five count loses.

She also introduces each participant to the crowd. She gives their name (or whatever name they gave her, if you want to go under a pseudonym), and a fact about them, perhaps ...a little made up. Nothing terrible, but always something to spice up the match. Are you fighting an elf? She may imply you have something against elves. Are you rich? She may imply your opponent has a grudge against Hightown. Little things.

(Feel free to godmod what she says as needed for comedy or plotting, but keep in mind it wouldn't be outright derogatory or obviously insulting. Just some slight implication to spice things up.)

THE BETTING

Are you a bookie? Are you making bets? Time to make some money.

Feel free to handwave who's fighting or who's the crowd favorite, what the odds are, etc. Don't get too bogged down in the details. Just remember: People love betting, and bookies get a cut. It pays to know the odds.

For those betting? Sometimes you win big. Sometimes you lose. Try and be polite about it.

THE SPECTATING

It's time to just sit back and watch the fight. Boo or cheer. Who's your favorite? Your least favorite?

Or maybe you're here for another reason. Gossip, making connections, pick-pocketing... Plenty of people here, plenty of connections to make... or you could just get drunk.

IN GENERAL

Hey, just have fun. In the future, there might be signups or more complex structures for the fights, but for now, let's just be chill and punch each other senseless.

Top level and comment around, fight whoever you want or handwave; there are presumably NPCs fighting and betting, make them up as needed for your threads. Please note if you're okay with threadjacking and etc.

Let me know if you need Eshal to step in as a referee (PM, whatever)! And note: She will not be fighting, just making herself very visible as the ref.

Comments

eshal fazon | ota | threadjack away.

[saam]

a. BEFORE THE FIGHT.

She's getting ready for the next bout. You're here to fight. She needs to get shit in order. Leaning over, she's all grins, sharply friendly.

"Gimme your name," she says, "and some shit about you. Y'know, where you're from, your job, something. People need a reason to cheer."

She gestures to the crowd. They're waiting.

b. DURING THE FIGHT.

Somebody done goofed. How did you break the rules in the ring? Below the belt? Kicked? Doesn't matter. Soon you'll find someone's sizable strength grabbing you and yanking you back.

"That's not in the fucking rules."

c. BETWEEN FIGHTS.

You have to have breaks between matches, so people can buy drinks and make bets.

You can find her at the bar, downing something that probably isn't rotgut. "Double my bet on the Nevarran." She says, grinning. She turns to whoever's next to her at the bar; they happen to be you. "What do you think?"

d. WILDCARD

[go for it, dude.]

c.

[justashotaway]

"Which Nevarran?" she asks, frowning as she glances up from where she has been examining the woodgrain of the bar. (She did not come here with coin, having failed to consider whether she would be thirsty, and she is loathe to go back to the Gallows now.) As far as she can tell, there are several to choose from in attendance.

[saam]

Eshal props her chin on her palm and winks. Which Nevarran, in-fucking-deed.

"Which one's your favorite?"

a

[kalt]

She tilts her head and smiles darkly. Oh yes, it might be about time to tell this wretched, mouthy Qun-translator her name, and a few tidbits about herself.

"Karoliina," the name has the ring of properness to it that doesn't suit Carla at all. "But you can tell them it's 'Princess', if you insist."

Would the crowd like the pet name, like jeering at it, or laughing at how it also did not quite suite the Avvar woman shedding her outer layers of leather armor and fur to get into the ring and sneer at the lowlanders.

"From the cursed hold, where we keep lowlanders as pets and make trinkets from their bones, when we've finished with their flesh."

Wow, sounds fake.

[justashotaway]

That is an easy question. "Me."

[saam]

A grin. Eshal can craft a story from that. "Avaar Princess. Sounds fucking nice."

The rest of the story is perfect. Who cares if it's true. It's a story. It's a canto. It's what works.

"In this corner..." she murmurs to herself. "The Princess of the Avaar. She keeps lowlanders as pets... will her opponent end the night in her cage?"

She quirks a brow, looking at this Karoliina. How's that sound, huh?

[saam]

Just the answer Eshal was hoping for. She beams. "Then show 'em. You're young. Nobody's gonna expect you tonight. If you kick ass, everybody gonna expect you next time."

She leans in a little. "You're allowed to bet on yourself."

[justashotaway]

Her brows draw together. The possibility of betting had not occurred to her--for that, she might've brought a bit of gold. "No. I did not bring money."

[kalt]

She can genuinely only hope there are other Avvar about to take offense to this one being declared their 'princess'. There were many better candidates for that role than Karoliina O Nidhold. Still, her smile widens at Eshal's easy acceptance of her mythos.

"They'll be indignant with it," and she's delighted by that. Clearly loves nothing more than ruffling some feathers. She turns her head to consider the crowd. She's wondering what it would take to get them to riot. "Any word on town favorites?"

She'd like to know which ones she needs to be cruelest to.

[saam]

"It's the first night," Eshal gives a shrug. "No clue. But if you wanna play the villain... well, you got your work cut out for you."

She eyes the ring, and the crowd, slowly growing more hungry for the fight about to happen.

laura kint / ota

[justashotaway]

hit somebody! was what the crowd roared

Laura understands the rules set before her: No claws. No feet. But she has never been especially interested in punching people. All that leads to are bruises that--while they fade from her knuckles in an evening--annoy her.

And that's why, when Eshal says they may begin, she leaps at her opponent with the intent of knocking them flat to the ground. Pummeling will be more effective from that vantage point.

there's always room on our team for a goon

She watches the other bouts with a scholarly sort of interest. Having decided she does not want to waste any of her small savings in the pub, she neither eats nor drinks, just sits there, possibly with bruises blossoming over her face, and stares at the others' footwork and jabs.

Very, very occasionally, she might comment. "His foot is wrong."

but what's a canadian farm boy to do

[Laura's going to fight at least once, maybe more than once! She's otherwise going to lurk and observe, which I realize might not be terribly exciting, so we can absolutely do other stuff as well, if you like! Please feel free to pm/plurk/disco me to discuss as needed.]

[saam]

Eshal shrugs. Poor fucking kid. She takes some coins out of her pocket and slides them over. "There. You gotta have fun with it. No point otherwise."

flint, ota

[katabasis]

pretty as.
Spite? Please, he hardly knows the meaning of the word. And as he'd said to the event's organizing - if he cared to watch people punch one another for sport, he hardly needed to look farther than the crew of his own ship.

It must therefore be every kind of happenstance which finds Flint in the back room of the Boar & Bat somewhere toward the evening's halfway point, having taken a seat practically beneath the posting with his own face and name on it. The floor of the makeshift ring is flecked with spit and the cast offs of bloody noses, and there's been enough drinking done and punches thrown that the volume of the assemblage has risen to be heard like a muffled shout from the street. Exactly when and under what circumstances he'd manifested there and who he might have arrived with are all unclear, but he has possession of both a bottle and cup and so clearly his reputation with the barkeep can't be as bad as all that.

Or maybe it's worse. Or maybe--

Crack! say knuckles and flesh. A whoop rises from half the spectators with the right betting sense. Flint pours himself another glass from the bottle.

wildcard.
(he's not fighting any of you losers, unless your name is luwenna coupe)

[kalt]

"I'm an easy villain. An arrogant outsider here to mock their norms and their ways."

There is what she does on purpose and what is simply the truth, whether she mocked them or not, there were those predisposed to rankle. Where arrogance became confidence isn't a question that interests her overmuch either. She was master of herself, and that troubled those used to mastery.

"I can do it, for a few nights," before she would start to become bored with the play-acting.

[saam]

Eshal shrugs. "Every little bit helps. Don't wanna play it too much, right. People can get nasty... if you keep winning."

Sounds like a challenge. Impress her, Karoliina.

[saam]

At some point, Eshal finds him. She'd kind of been looking for him, since she got someone to read the sign, laughed her arse off, and stole it.

The fights have been good. It's been amazing to be back in her element in a way that doesn't rile up that old panic. As a result, she's a bit sweaty, a bit bloody, but completely alive. It's clear in her eye, her voice, even the way she holds herself. She feels electric.

She finds Flint, finally. She stands there, staring for a moment, face stuck in a greedy grin. "Good," she says in a voice she hopes Flint recognizes. "I was hoping you'd be prettier than the picture."

[kalt]

"I won't kill any of them," she answers -- people can get nasty --and adds flippantly, "Just for you."

[saam]

Eshal laughs, and bows deep, a little sarcastic, but mostly just having fun. "Why, thank you, your highness."

karoliina o nidhold | ota

[kalt]

A villain to behold
She's not the biggest Avvar you've ever met, she's compact and wiry, but the marks exposed from beneath all her leathers and furs when she strips down into more boxing friendly attire show the time she's spent fighting the biggest Avvar you can imagine. The most interesting of her marks are a pair of burns on the backs of her shoulders that look like flattened angel wings made out of scar-tissue. The result of one of her more interesting scuffles with her own brother. She'd given him his own presents in kind.

She lets Eshal introduce her as the Princess of the Avvar, let's her make the threat that she might take any of those she defeats back to the Frostbacks to live in a cage. Her smile is wolfishly confident in a way that does not undermine the tale.

This first night, much of wins come from the simple process of getting under her opponent's skin. She's good at it, a mix of precise insult and sexual flirtation, backed up with heavy fists and good movement. Early on, she makes a show of dragging the defeated ones out of the ring and placing them by the entrance, as if making a pile of her winnings.

But it is all of show. She's more interested in doing something which pleases the translator than anything else.

Around
It's more obvious how much of her performance in the ring is play acting outside of it. She's still sharp and her smile is still dark, but she sits back languidly at the bar and flirts with the things that interest her in a much more mild manner than her strut out in the spotlight.

But her propensity for insult is still there, especially if you make it too easy.

Wildcard
[ surpriiise meee ]

[kalt]

Her heavy-lidded smile is not reassuring. She could manage it, a night or two, and she made no promises about anyone who antagonized her outside of the ring.

[justashotaway]

Laura looks down at them, tempted--and aware of the fact that they will weigh heavy on her thoughts if she takes them. The responsibility to win Eshal's money back for her, not to mention the debt she will owe, is not one she has any desire to carry.

After a moment, she pushes the coins back toward Eshal.

https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/024/196/sign.jpg

[hornswoggle]

THE SPECTATING

The sign is certainly noted. If anything, it's apparently delighted the handful of Walrus men who have made their way in and mixed into the crowd. John's considering his odds on stealing that sign at the end of the night.

While contemplating petty theft, John's followed his usual habit. This isn't a night as usual, but he still finds himself a seat, a good drink, and observes the comings and goings. The fights themselves aren't interesting him, but there's a crowd, and John likes to be in the midst of the crowd.

"Placing a bet on the next bout?" John asks, leaning his weight forward onto his crutch. "I've heard there are fairly good odds on this pair."

WILDCARD

[ do whatever, i'm down. ]

[katabasis]

Yes, well.

Even if he didn't, it'd be hard not to connect the dots. She's tall enough to be visible while announcing the matches from the room's center even over the heads of the baying crowd and from the margins of the room. He might know next to nothing about Eshal Fazon, but even he would bet it unlikely that she would surrender the management of her ring to someone else.

Qunlat in the mouth hardly means qunari in the four feet broad and horns sense.

In the ragged light of the Boar & Bat's back room, it's hard to say exactly what the line of his mouth is doing behind the shadow of his beard. But his grip on the bottle as he refills his cup is easy and he certainly sounds entertained.

"I see your project is going well."

ALSO: i do what i want

[kalt]

"You're the captain who isn't supposed to be in here." The resemblance to the poster is un-fucking-canny. Perhaps, based on her show for the evening, it might seem as though "the Princess of the Avvar" was here to make something of that. Her entirely languid approach, however, belies this.

"Did you come to keep an eye on things?" her smile is easy to take as insulting.

derrica | ota.

[tender]

A BRAWL

Derrica squares up in the ring, bouncing on her toes. As she'd waited her turn, the alternate shouts and applause from the crowd had made her nervous, but she doesn't feel it now. She's vibrating with anticipation anyway, waiting for Eshal to say the word.

Sure, she's supposed to be fighting the person across from her in the ring, but Derrica still flashes a bright smile at them. We're all here to have a good time, right?

POST-FIGHT

There's blood on her face. She can taste it in her mouth, even after she's collected a glass of sweet-strong alcohol. Maybe she could find a healer, but it doesn't feel especially urgent. Her braid's are coming loose, and she can feel aches and bruises each time she moves, but it doesn't dampen the glow of satisfaction left in the wake of the fight.

She's lifted a bottle from the bar, perched on a stool presumably to watch the proceedings. She alternates between sipping and holding the cool glass against her swelling mouth. Still, she grins at anyone approaching.

WILDCARD

[ derrica's going to fight a few times, and be generally hanging around otherwise!! do whatever, i'll roll with it. ]