Lye
02-20-14, 03:40 PM
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Closed to Leoric.
Amidst the crowd of rowdy ruffians and merry maidens, a single man with platinum hair sat quietly alone. With a gloved hand, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, barely exposed by the crimson scarf wrapped around the lower portion of his face. In the other, he clenched a horn of Raiaeran Red. His only company stood quietly upon the table's alcohol cured surface - a half drained growler of wine.
"Sir," interrupted a sultry bar wench, "is there anythin' else I can git for ya?"
The assassin offered her a verdant gaze only to be greeted with a voluptuous pair of breasts just a flea's jump away. Startled by the lack respect for personal space, he retreated his head with a jerk.
"Err... No thanks," he stammered, a little rosy in the cheeks. She snapped straight and set her bosoms into a rolling jiggle. She offered him a slight curtsey of her short, plaid skirt. Then topped off her voluminous blonde hair, blue eyes, and petite frame with a delicate smile.
"Just let me know if ya change ya mind, sweetie!" she sang. The assassin wondered how such a fine apex of sexuality was serving spirits in a pub filled with the most vile patrons in all of Alerar. Women like her stood little to no chance of survival in such a sinful place. Only moments into his bewilderment, did the lass spin on her heels to continue the rounds. His eyes could not refrain from landing on her nearly exposed backside, but more so, the long, barbed tail of a succubus.
"How fitting..." he muttered to himself.
Lye returned his blank gaze to the swirling crimson in his horn and let the boisterous racket of patrons assault him relentlessly. Over the past three hours, he waited. He nursed a full growler of fine Raiaeran wine to half its contents and contemplated the increased amount of punishment he would deliver on his tardy colleague. The assassin did not belong in public, and The Pit, being the haven for many criminals such as he, was no exception.
"Mr. Ripper!" barked a large orc clad in spiked leather armor. Lye snapped his head at the name. "You're opponent has finally arrived."
"Finally..." he repeated with disdain. "Show the way."
The assassin left his drinking horn upon its stand on the table. Fifteen gold pieces soon joined it, and he rose from his chair. Like an immovable boulder in a raging rapid, his orcish guide parted the sea of patrons. The thin, athletic assassin made haste to remain in his wake and spare himself the disgust of touching the displaced filth. They carried themselves down a spiraling, wrought iron staircase. Then, his lumbering guide came to a sudden halt.
"Ready?"
Lye offered a moment and observed the tavern sized dirt floor, enclosure made of woven steel, and opposing gate opposite of his own. A warm sense of calm washed over him and he nodded.
"I've waited long enough," he confidently remarked.
The orc heaved the door in front of him clean off its hinges and gave the assassin room to enter the caged area. He could only be impressed at the beast's strength for a brief moment, for as soon as he entered, the door was locked back in place.
"Everyone!" boomed a loud voice to which Lye could not pinpoint, "Our next match is about to begin! We have Jack Ripper versus Rockfist Bagua!"
Lye sneered at the sound of his alias, and the crowd of onlookers, gamblers, and staff brought a heat of excitement to his veins. Both eyes remained forward as the wall of orcish flesh heaved the opposing door off its hinges. From behind him, a shadow of similar build stepped into the light. The crowd roared.
"You're late," Lye shouted above the madness.
Closed to Leoric.
Amidst the crowd of rowdy ruffians and merry maidens, a single man with platinum hair sat quietly alone. With a gloved hand, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, barely exposed by the crimson scarf wrapped around the lower portion of his face. In the other, he clenched a horn of Raiaeran Red. His only company stood quietly upon the table's alcohol cured surface - a half drained growler of wine.
"Sir," interrupted a sultry bar wench, "is there anythin' else I can git for ya?"
The assassin offered her a verdant gaze only to be greeted with a voluptuous pair of breasts just a flea's jump away. Startled by the lack respect for personal space, he retreated his head with a jerk.
"Err... No thanks," he stammered, a little rosy in the cheeks. She snapped straight and set her bosoms into a rolling jiggle. She offered him a slight curtsey of her short, plaid skirt. Then topped off her voluminous blonde hair, blue eyes, and petite frame with a delicate smile.
"Just let me know if ya change ya mind, sweetie!" she sang. The assassin wondered how such a fine apex of sexuality was serving spirits in a pub filled with the most vile patrons in all of Alerar. Women like her stood little to no chance of survival in such a sinful place. Only moments into his bewilderment, did the lass spin on her heels to continue the rounds. His eyes could not refrain from landing on her nearly exposed backside, but more so, the long, barbed tail of a succubus.
"How fitting..." he muttered to himself.
Lye returned his blank gaze to the swirling crimson in his horn and let the boisterous racket of patrons assault him relentlessly. Over the past three hours, he waited. He nursed a full growler of fine Raiaeran wine to half its contents and contemplated the increased amount of punishment he would deliver on his tardy colleague. The assassin did not belong in public, and The Pit, being the haven for many criminals such as he, was no exception.
"Mr. Ripper!" barked a large orc clad in spiked leather armor. Lye snapped his head at the name. "You're opponent has finally arrived."
"Finally..." he repeated with disdain. "Show the way."
The assassin left his drinking horn upon its stand on the table. Fifteen gold pieces soon joined it, and he rose from his chair. Like an immovable boulder in a raging rapid, his orcish guide parted the sea of patrons. The thin, athletic assassin made haste to remain in his wake and spare himself the disgust of touching the displaced filth. They carried themselves down a spiraling, wrought iron staircase. Then, his lumbering guide came to a sudden halt.
"Ready?"
Lye offered a moment and observed the tavern sized dirt floor, enclosure made of woven steel, and opposing gate opposite of his own. A warm sense of calm washed over him and he nodded.
"I've waited long enough," he confidently remarked.
The orc heaved the door in front of him clean off its hinges and gave the assassin room to enter the caged area. He could only be impressed at the beast's strength for a brief moment, for as soon as he entered, the door was locked back in place.
"Everyone!" boomed a loud voice to which Lye could not pinpoint, "Our next match is about to begin! We have Jack Ripper versus Rockfist Bagua!"
Lye sneered at the sound of his alias, and the crowd of onlookers, gamblers, and staff brought a heat of excitement to his veins. Both eyes remained forward as the wall of orcish flesh heaved the opposing door off its hinges. From behind him, a shadow of similar build stepped into the light. The crowd roared.
"You're late," Lye shouted above the madness.