Why was a teenage girl entering a bar?

She despised the act of drinking with a burning passion, so that was a no.

In fact, she loathed drunk loving too. Absolutely not.

It was fights.

Fights were what she was here for.

She heard the commotion all the way from downtown. She was sucked towards the chaos like a magnet. Indeed, once she entered… it was a “I wish I could not hear my own thoughts” paradise. Fighting. A lot of fighting. It was all a blur; dwarves throwing tomatoes, a bunch of people absolutely demolishing each other. The stench of beer, sweat, urine, even blood all meshed together, cancelling out the pleasurable scents of food.

First, eat. Then, fight.

The fiery redhead made a b-line towards the counter, “Get me food. Lot’s of meat and fruit.” She placed the coin on the wooden counter before twirling around. A snarky smirk crossed her face as she surveyed all the unfamiliar faces in the crowd. A blond street fighter, some kids younger than her, was that a faun totting a halfling around like a tiny dog in a hand bag?

Amongst all the flying food and undecyferable shouts, she slammed a fist into her palm.

“I’m bored! Fight me!”

She took her number and slipped the paper into a pocket. She then stepped forth, fists already up in a skilled boxing stance, into the fray.