Who brings a bone to a bar brawl?

[Lye]

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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.

[Leoric]

Leoric smirked as he pulled up his trousers, it had been a while since he had two woman at once like that. He looked up at the warm mid day sun, as he walked outside. It hit him suddenly... he had a match scheduled for today against someone named 'Lye Ulroke'. He was told he had two hours between his matches. However his time out to get a few drinks turned into quite a few hours of fun.

“Well after that, let's see if Mr. Ulroke can keep me entertained long enough,” Leoric smirked as he took off at a full sprint for the arena. The wind blowing through his hair was rather cooling for such a warm afternoon. On any other day or moment Leoric would be enjoying the breeze with a mug of ale. This time, however, he was late for a fight. Something that he enjoyed if his opponent could last long enough for him.

“You late” Said an ogre as Leoric burst through the musty wooden door.

“Ya, Ya, I know. Let's do this” Leoric said as he took a moment to catch his breathe. He ran his fingers through his hair to make it presentable as he knew this fight would be in front of a crowd. His previous matches were pretty simple for him. A drunken hobo, or what he presumed to be a hobo. And some Guardsmen trying to make some coin on the side. His opponents never seemed to be able to figure out his quaking palm before the match had ended, not that he was objecting. The bar brawler had already made some nice coin off of those matches, and he had bet his entire winnings on himself for this match.

“Go, no wait!” the ogre said as he popped the door off it's hinges and pushed him into the arena. As he stumbled into the arena the crowd broke out into a cheer, half for his opponent and, half for him. He grinned as his adrenaline started pumping.

“I guess I don't need any more rest” Leoric smirked as the Ogre slammed the door shut behind him and the voice of his opponent could barely be made out over the roar of the crowd. But more importantly his heartbeat, The adrenaline from the crowd was intoxicating. He began to chuckle to himself as he looked at the long haired man in front of him.

“Yeah I know, but what can I say? I just can't say no to two beautiful ladies at once. So, let's not keep you waiting any longer, Mr. Ulroke” He said as he started bouncing on the balls of his feet while he put on his leather gloves.

[Lye]

Leoric had arrived in all his philandering glory. Three hours late, unkempt face, and a stupid grin which either suggested he was drunk on alcohol or just in a permanent state of ignorant bliss. Lye sneered at him. Though the assassin had accepted him into his personal band of thugs, Leoric showed little difference from the filthy lot which cheered about. This was clearly the drunkard's element.

"You kept me waiting three hours..." Lye spat, then began something unusual for him. The assassin pulled the scarf from his face. In the past, he regarded his privacy above most other's lives. Over the past few years, however, his reputation had outgrown the usefulness of privacy. In fact, the scarf itself was a bigger giveaway than anything else.

He didn't stop there. As his opponent hopped around like some giddy school girl, Lye worked the latches to his leather vest.

"I hate waiting. Especially for my own subordinates. More so when they tell me its because the were bedding some whores..."

The black chest piece fell from his body and hit the floor with a faint sweep of dust. Beneath, Lye wore some kind of black linen garment. It hugged his form tightly, and let his sinew show through. Even that was removed and cast aside to expose pale skin. Ridges of lean sinew pulled scarred skin tight. It wasn't that the assassin was bulky or brawny, but he was dense.

Then, he worked the weapons from his hips to cast into the pile.

"That angers me, Bauga. I don't handle anger well. So, I'm going to beat the life out of you at your own game."

Swords, knives, needles, poisons, pouches, everything but his gloves, pants, and boots flopped into a pile of effects. A pile that Lye possessed with a dark magic and pushed to the cage's door where the orc waited patiently.

"Take them," Lye commanded as he focused on the brawler instead of the green skin. "I won't need them until match's end. Not for this whelp."

Expressionless, the orc pulled the objects through the grate. They were no longer a factor. The assassin tugged the edges of his gloves taught against his fingers and made a firm fist. The black hide crackled under the tension.

"Ready?"

The question quickly became rhetorical, and Lye burst to a dead on sprint. His inhuman speed propelled each dust swept step until he was upon the brawler. The assassin centered his last step just between Leoric's bouncing feet, smacked his palms together, tightened his core, and thrust a lightning quick elbow aimed for his gut using the strength of his whole upper body.

The fight had begun, and the crowd didn't hesitate to agree.

[Leoric]

"What can i say? A man needs to have some fun once in a while. Maybe you should try bedding a few, it would de stress you quite a bit." Leoric smirked as he cracked his neck in anticipation. he looked at his opponent as he heard the last crack happen. His opponent was disarming, a bad move against Leoric.

"Well if this is how you want it, so be it" The Brawler smugly said as he threw his sword and scabbard behind him towards the door.

He turned around from tossing his sword behind him and his opponent was on the move, kicking up dust as he moved. It took his brain a few quick seconds to comprehend his opponents speed. His opponent was upon him in a flash about to shove his elbow into his chest. The heard the crowd roar with excitement, The fight was under way. Leoric quickly kicked off with his left foot and deftly used his left forearm to push away the elbow as he pirouetted to the right stopping only to aim his quaking palm directly for his opponents skull. Aiming to daze his 'Illustrious' Leader with the only trick he had.

[Lye]

Lye's cold emerald gaze examined his prey. When testing another's skill, Lye understood the value of acting. He needed to keep Leoric under the impression his actions were serious, that Lye was out for blood. This part came easy to him, for Lye most always enjoyed a decent lacquer of blood on his hands. The second part took finesse, to strike out with just the proper amount of force to draw the prey's secrets to the surface. For a bar brawler, Leoric made this assessment far too easy.

Leoric's parry pushed Lye's incredible momentum off course from a potentially lethal blow. Without so much as a heartbeat, the assassin's footwork compensated, his torso folded in response to the wayward direction and in his pivot, Lye ducked under the concussive blast which would have torn his head asunder.

Leoric's blow carried with it an unseen force that parted the loose dust of the stadium floor like a sea. In its wake, locks of Lye's silver hair whipped about. This massive force halted and the trail of debris behind it fell still. Meanwhile, the crowd above exploded into cheers of awe.

The assassin carried the momentum as he leveled out. His palms unlocked, torso tightened, and he drove a fist from low to high. In its path, Lye waited to see what part of the brawler, if any, would connect.

His watchful gaze analyzed the brute's every move like a coiled viper would watch a mouse.