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Post by Stix on Feb 5, 2008 0:13:29 GMT -5
A brief intermission greets entrants to the Pit, while a wretched creature resembling a tattered undead fiend sits in the center of the ring, messily devouring the poor deader who lost the fight against it. While the crowd awaits a new center-stage attraction, they instead pour their efforts into wagering, drinking and boasting.
"Good evenin', basher," blurts the tiefling porter with the too-large grin. "Take y' coat? Bub's only a green copper, an' the sport's free!"
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Post by artemis on Feb 5, 2008 7:08:39 GMT -5
Xianna reluctantly relinquishes her cloak, shaking her blue hair to be fall free around her shoulders. She scans the crowd, eyeing various races, sizing them up.
Plenty of other tieflings here, is that an orc?
She saunters to the bar, careful of any cony-catchers.
"Take what's cheap cutter,"she barks to the closest barkeep and drops some copper on the bar. She gives a decent tip, just so they'll remember her and she doesn't have to wait like the masses of sods for another drink.
She turns from the bar, she can't quite see the ring but she can smell it. That warm sweet smell invades her nostrils and makes her eyes flash red, like they always do when she's itching for a fight.
Need to get me a good fight, maybe make a bit of jink.
But for now she scans the raucous crowd listening to the chant.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 6, 2008 1:13:44 GMT -5
A brief intermission greets entrants to the Pit, while a wretched creature resembling a tattered undead fiend sits in the center of the ring, messily devouring the poor deader who lost the fight against it. While the crowd awaits a new center-stage attraction, they instead pour their efforts into wagering, drinking and boasting. " Good evenin', basher," blurts the tiefling porter with the too-large grin. " Take y' coat? Bub's only a green copper, an' the sport's free!" Quicksilver swaggers toward the entrance, hips swaying, causing her coiled whip and sheathed rapier to slap against her thighs with each movement. She pushes back her hood, flicking her cloak off her shoulders with a flourish, and flashes a broad grin at the tiefling porter. "Silver's the name. I'm here ta fight, of course." She says with a wink and another grin, and strides confidently into the noisy warehouse, without even bothering to remove her cloak. (I just hope Quicksilver does well enough in previous battles to warrant such a confident entrance.  ) |
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Post by Stix on Feb 8, 2008 15:18:28 GMT -5
"Silver," the porter says with a nod and what might well be a lascivious smile.
A gnome -- a rare sight in the Cage, and even rarer in a place this rough -- stands behind the bar, looking up to Xianna as she makes her order and sets down a few copper pieces. "Right away, blood!" he says, picking up a well-dented mug and filling it at the tap.
After a moment, he sets it down in front of her. "Ain't seen ya here before!" he comments. "Ya look about dangerous enough for the ring; is that where y're headed?"
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Post by artemis on Feb 8, 2008 20:37:27 GMT -5
"If that's where the jink is at, that's the place to be", she replies with a coy smile and a flick of her forked tongue. She swills the bub slowly but deliberately. With a sigh she sets down her mug and says, " How about something a little more top shelf there cutter. What's the quickest way for a basher to make her bones in this place?"
She slides a gold piece on the bar and does another quick scan of the room. She takes special note of any bashers that look unassuming at first glance.
Alot of potential in a place like this.
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Post by Stix on Feb 10, 2008 16:47:55 GMT -5
The gnome offers only a wry smirk and a helpless shrug at the request for better bub. "Y' a spellslinger? Plenty bashers in high-up fights wanna better their chance at winning, and it's most ways a safe way to turn a coin," he says quickly, excited when any conversation turns to money. "Or y' could wager on a fight," he says, gesturing to the clockwork modron nearby taking bets on behalf of the house. He leans in a bit to say in a more hushed tone, "The box seems a bit thunderstruck t' me, but harmless enough.
"The best jink is in winning the ring, though. How d'ya fight?"
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Post by celticguy on Feb 10, 2008 20:57:58 GMT -5
Rhenai walks up to the entrance of the arena and sees the porter. "Hey mate, this where the money's at?" he asks with a grin. When the tiefling nods, Rhenai strides into the bar, scimitar hitting against his hip. He leans against the bar and glances around, eyeing up the competition.
[whisper=admin]Hey Stix, do I have a farily good chance of surviving here?[/whisper]
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Post by artemis on Feb 11, 2008 18:33:43 GMT -5
"Oh I got a few spells to sling, but I prefer bloodletting tonight", she says as her eyes flash red again. She tips her mug to indicate she'll settle for another cheap mug of bub.
"Whatever the crowd wants, right?" she winks at the gnome. "The best jink is in putting on the best show, and I'm not above delaying the kill for a few more coins." Again, she scans the room to check out any competition. m
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 11, 2008 22:34:07 GMT -5
Quicksilver, hooking her thumbs into her swordbelt, smiles and nods to herself as the takes in the familiar feverish atmosphere. A deadly light twinkles within her eyes. Smirking, she scans the crowd for the nearest sponsor, and spies the same gith from her previous matches. She smiles to herself.
First,I'll drink. Then I'll fight an get me chivs wet again. Quicksilver pivots on her heel, and saunters toward the bar, her hips swaying with every movement.
"Evenin' cutter." She winks at the gnome, and flashes a broad grin. "I'll have whatever ye've got on tap. Just the one fer now. Then I'm off ta fight again." She lays a few tarnished coins down on the counter, and leans back against the bar; confidently scanning the crowd for anyone that stands out, and catches her eye.
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Post by john on Feb 11, 2008 22:49:39 GMT -5
Lurches in, a small, stout man, heavily armed and armored in vulture-helm bascinet, and with the glint of mail under his green cloak. He is virtually festooned with blades, the largest a bastard sword carried at his hip, riding high in a concession to his squat size. Smaller blades are sheathed on him in various noticeable locations, and his armor is browned with smeared blood in many places.
He looks for Ghour the orc, his sponsor, and says, almost to himself. "The Taker of Blood is back. And he's here to fight."
He glares for a moment at some of the newcomers, then deigns to nod at Quicksilver, taking up a spot at the bar where he makes a point of looking like he's brooding. To those who've seen him fight, it's a well-known act, he plays to his grim, taciturn reputation, and lethal tendencies in the pit. He doesn't ask for bub, or even speak to the tender, for the moment. His drinking is done after he's gotten his catharsis from the release of a fight, or even better, a kill.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 11, 2008 23:54:27 GMT -5
Quicksilver nods at the Taker of Blood - John, as he was addressed that night in the Open Shell - as he assumes his position by the bar. She watches him for a moment with a critical eye, marking him as a blood who'd earned his grim reputation in these parts. A valuable moniker, for scaring off all the wannabee ruffians and cutthroats, before they even moved within striking distance.
She smiles to herself and returns to her drink. "Evenin', cutter." She raises her tankard to him in a respectful salute; one fellow pitfighter to the other. "May yer bloodlettin' be fruitful this night."
And may me own chivs strike true an' swift...
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Post by john on Feb 11, 2008 23:55:30 GMT -5
After a moment, John sneers inside his helmet at all the drink-addled idiots who are standing about. His only indulgence is battle, everything else is moderation for him, and only at a set time. To dull his edge would be foolish.
He eyes the thing feasting on the deader with distaste. Wallowing in the kill like that.... Disgraceful. He makes a spitting noise, then returns to the brooding pose, leaning against the bar, body forward, apparently unaware of anyone coming. Waiting for the Orc. Or a direct challenge.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Feb 12, 2008 0:03:36 GMT -5
Finishing her beer - it was watery and tasteless really, with a hint of something metallic left behind on the pallate - she moves away from the bar, and assumes a casual pose beside the Taker. Her hip is thrust to the side, one hand hanging close to her sheathed rapier, and her other hand, sheathed in metal plates studded with spikes, bound with a dirty coil of barbed wire, rests at ease upon the counter top.
"I 'ave a little proposition I'd like ta make wit' ye, cutter. How's about, after a few much needed bloodlettins, we team up in a free for all match? I've seen ya fight, an' I like yer style." Her teeth gleam pearly white in the murky lighting.
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Post by artemis on Feb 12, 2008 8:59:47 GMT -5
Xianna notices the quirky, yet lethal looking female approach the brooding newcomer. Taker of Blood- eh? That's a cute moniker, she thinks to herself. That gal has it right though, if I could make my bones in the ring then team up for some extra jink, it would be a good night. She turns her head so as not to seem like she's eaves dropping.
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Post by john on Feb 12, 2008 10:00:03 GMT -5
"No. Everything a body gets, they should get by their own hands." John shakes his head to punctuate the point. No malice in his voice, no emotion at all, actually. It's just another interaction without profit to him, and smacks far too strongly of relying on someone.... A mistake he last made with Fishy.
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Post by Stix on Feb 12, 2008 14:51:27 GMT -5
"Oh I got a few spells to sling, but I prefer bloodletting tonight", she says as her eyes flash red again. She tips her mug to indicate she'll settle for another cheap mug of bub. "Whatever the crowd wants, right?" she winks at the gnome. "The best jink is in putting on the best show, and I'm not above delaying the kill for a few more coins." Again, she scans the room to check out any competition. m " Said it brilliantly, cutter," the gnome says with a cruel, crooked-toothed grin. " We have three circuits: fist-fights, a fight to first blood, and a fight to surrender or death." He glances to the ring, where the fiend is finishing its meal. " Guess which one that was!" he says uproariously with some hissing laughter through his teeth. Quicksilver, hooking her thumbs into her swordbelt, smiles and nods to herself as the takes in the familiar feverish atmosphere. A deadly light twinkles within her eyes. Smirking, she scans the crowd for the nearest sponsor, and spies the same gith from her previous matches. She smiles to herself. First,I'll drink. Then I'll fight an get me chivs wet again. Quicksilver pivots on her heel, and saunters toward the bar, her hips swaying with every movement. "Evenin' cutter." She winks at the gnome, and flashes a broad grin. "I'll have whatever ye've got on tap. Just the one fer now. Then I'm off ta fight again." She lays a few tarnished coins down on the counter, and leans back against the bar; confidently scanning the crowd for anyone that stands out, and catches her eye. " Of course, Silver," Felgar says, still smiling. He pours a mug of the cheap foaming swill and sets it down in front of her, raking the coins off the table. " Hope we'll get to see you in there again tonight." "No. Everything a body gets, they should get by their own hands." John shakes his head to punctuate the point. No malice in his voice, no emotion at all, actually. It's just another interaction without profit to him, and smacks far too strongly of relying on someone.... A mistake he last made with Fishy. Felgar looks on quietly as the strange woman and the Taker have words. Nearby, a large orc pushes his way out of the crowd, baring the teeth in his snout in a grimace-grin much like John's. " Heard you were out of town, thought maybe you wrote yourself in the book," Ghour bellows. " You ready to make us some jink?" |
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Post by artemis on Feb 12, 2008 15:10:02 GMT -5
The gnome made Xianna grin, she tried to hide it, but she couldn't contain her amusement. "Blood and death is what I feel like tonight, I just got to these parts and I figure I ought to make a splash real quick like." Then she turns serious, " I gotta know the ins and outs though, don't wanna get bobbed my first time in." She cracks her neck, and then her knuckles, and turns her attention to the comings and goings near the ring.
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Post by celticguy on Feb 12, 2008 18:48:57 GMT -5
Rhenai gestures to the gnome behind the counter. "Hey mate, d'ya happen ta know when the next fight to first blood or fight to the death is?"
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Post by john on Feb 12, 2008 19:37:26 GMT -5
"It'd take more than a bunch of drunk bubbers like the Bacchae to kill me. I'm ready to go. What's on the menu for the evening?" He returns the grimace-grin to the orc. John's almost pleased to see his sponsor. A mutually profitable relationship. So few of those. Someone's always taking the other to town, and the other gets nothing for it. This is far closer to his personal ideal of equivalent exchange between equals.
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Post by TheGratefulNed on Feb 12, 2008 22:23:06 GMT -5
Nuuko walks through the main doorway and out of the cloying murky mists covering Sigil's streets. Three sword hilts, a long bow and two quivers of strange, black-tipped arrows adorn his inordinately tall frame while he wears a slight smirk on his face. After looking around the crowded area for a moment he walks toward the fighting ring to see what the rending, fleshy sounds are coming from. Not knowing -- or caring -- what the thing is that is eating or being eaten, he walks slowly toward the bar and it's diminutive drink-slinger.
"Don't suppose you've ever heard of Nibenese whiskey," his words come out as more of a statement than a question. Shrugging he adds, "gimme a shot of something with a little kick."
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