Slow dancing in a burning room

P. Krios | Biff's Bar

POSTED: Fri Jan 04, 2019 9:49 pm

It had been a while since he had last set food within Biff's Bar, but the warm and energetic tavern had been calling to him for quite a while and, with the days so long and desolate now, it seemed like a good time to brighten his spirits. Packing a few scavenged items in the tattered rabbitskin satchel he borrowed from Thyri, Reblin set out from Cour des Miracles and loped at a steady pace up through the Dampwoods and across Aelcrest Shore until the rubble of Amherst tickled his calloused toes.

It was easy to find the tavern from there. Stepping inside, a wash of hot breath and stale alcohol hit him square in the face while a chorus of ruckus laughter and rowdy banter filled his ears. Reblin took it all in with a deep breath and a broad smile. Then, after trading some shells for a cup of alcohol, the piebald Courtier cast his eyes about the patrons and gave the liquor some time to settle in before ordering another and passing through the bar in search of fun.

He spied a couple of burlier figures engaged in an arm wrestle and found himself joining a pair of other patrons cheering them on until the victor was decided. Twisting his head about, Reblin caught sight of a blue-eyed man with half his man pulled back in a ponytail – truly the very first individual he picked out from the crowd of women and men within the rowdy establishment – and pointed sharply at him with a devious grin. "I challenge you," he began, pausing less out of a show of dramatics and more from forgetfulness for what he meant to challenge the man to. Then, clenching a fist and drawing his arm inward almost triumphantly, he finished: "To an arm wrestle!"

[WC — 304]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci

POSTED: Fri Jan 11, 2019 7:24 pm

393

The bar never ceased to be entertaining. If it was calm, that was fine, but a good night was a busy one where the energetic and overly zealous ones emerged from the woodwork like a bad stench. It was a great place to go when there were plenty of people roaring at one another over drinks, the fire blazing, the skin hot, and the world on fire with energy. It was also the best place to go to unwind after a day in Salsola and watching himself or scouting.

He often hit the place up on the way back after a longer scouting trip around the territory, and it was a comfortable familiar place to be. The barkeep knew his face by then, waving to him, and slapping a cup of ale for him in anticipation. Krios obliged by handing over a rabbit still covered in red from where he had snapped its neck and broken skin. The fur was still there, a slightly more valuable commodity but sullied by the fact it was not processed at all. But he was lazy and in a good mood, so when the man held up two fingers he shrugged it off and accepted he would be drinking light that day.

He joined the small crowd watching a duo arm wrestling, downing half his drink in one eager gulp. A cold drink in a warm place after feeling like his toes were going to freeze was definitely what the medicine man ordered for the end of what seemed like an annoying trip. His eyes peered up and met the gaze of another across from him. Who challenged him to an arm wrestling match.

Krios flashed a smile to the man, teeth shining as he laughed. Oh you're so on, he said loudly, boldly, proudly. He pushed toward the table and sat himself firmly on the chair before downing the rest of the mug of ale. Hope you got more muscle than you look like you have, he goaded brightly, planting his elbow on the table, ready to go at it. The man was similar in height to him, but seemed heavier than he in the strength department. And he smelled of pack, a familiar one to the Salsolan Striker. But he himself only smelled of wilderness, pine, and smoke. A stranger in a familiar place.

Krios Revlis
Come touch me like I’m an ordinary man. Have a look in my eyes. Underneath my skin there is a violence

Player WikiCommissionsCharacter Wiki
Salsola
The Striker
User avatar
Gen
Vedetto, Milite Mate to Kamari
Bloode Moste Potente
buy back the secrets

POSTED: Sun Jan 13, 2019 12:23 pm

Tipping his cup back, the remaining contents sloshing to the back of his throat and down into his stomach, Reblin pounded the bottom of his vessel against the table with a crack! and drew back his lips until his fangs glinted in the dim firelight of candles. Stiff atop his head, his ears revealed his confidence and his high, wagging tail supported this. The man he had randomly chosen had broad shoulders and was of a similar height to his own. With the garb that the man wore, however, it was difficult to accurately size him up.

But that was fine, Reblin thought as the alcohol took hold and encouraged the assurance he felt about himself. He knew what he was capable of and this well-dressed pretty boy didn't stand a chance as far as he was concerned. As the Courtier plopped his solid body down into his own chair, he roared with sardonic laughter and, straightening his back, lifted an arm up to show off his flexed biceps. "Oh, you just wait," he replied, pounding his elbow down with such force that he had to bite back the urge to wince from the pain that shot up his arm.

Thank the gods that alcohol had a way of dulling pain, too.

"I'll show you what I got!" he barked, holding is hand out for his opponent to take. "Hopefully you don't like using that arm." From around them, the crowd was already hooting and hollering and maybe even placing bets on who would win. Though the wolfdog had never had much interest in gambling, he had seen this a time or two in the tavern before. With the voices roaring in his ears, Reblin felt charged as he sat, elbow perched atop the table and palm open, ready for the burning of his muscles to ignite his senses. "Let's go, kid."

[WC — 317]


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Mandi
Luperci

POSTED: Sun Jan 13, 2019 1:49 pm

329

The man sat himself down and roughly slammed his elbow onto the table. Krios laughed mockingly, wiggling his fingers as he waited to lock grips with him. The alcohol was slowly kicking in at that moment but he could not say he was drunk when he agreed to take the duel. But he certainly would feel it by the time one of their hands slammed into the wooden table.

Youth and beauty before age, old man, countered the Striker, half-smirking. The stranger, a Courtier, did not seem to be that much older than himself, but that did not mean that he would not try to insult him. It was how the game was played and it seemed to amuse the people around them, who chortled, and someone shouted out something along the lines of the fact that they were both two wee babes.

Contrary, I use it pretty often, what's your excuse? he goaded back, grinning and playful in that masculine way. He grappled the man's hand and squeezed the hand somewhat, but not hard enough to truly display any sort of strength. That would be a dead give away, after all. Show me what you got, grandpa, he added, snickering.

One of the crowd pushed forward, a busty woman that was obviously looking to potentially profit off of a good display of her goodies. Krios was not swayed, despite noticing her and them out of the corner of his eye. His wife would have likely murdered him if he was found to have been unfaithful, for all that their marriage felt loveless since the day they were forcibly betrothed. Not that he wanted to anyway. He was the only one had any emotional stake, anyway.

Okay, boys, get reaaady, she trilled, pulling a kerchief from between her chest and raised her hand. Go! she yelled as she dramatically slapped the cloth down on the table. Krios pushed at the other man's hand, straining instantly, feeling the familiar sensation he felt whenever he held a bow taut for a long time.

Krios Revlis
Come touch me like I’m an ordinary man. Have a look in my eyes. Underneath my skin there is a violence

Player WikiCommissionsCharacter Wiki
Salsola
The Striker
User avatar
Gen
Vedetto, Milite Mate to Kamari
Bloode Moste Potente
buy back the secrets

POSTED: Sun Jan 13, 2019 7:45 pm

The prettyboy, his elbow propping up his own arm up, gave his fingers an inviting waggle and Reblin locked his hand into place with an soft, but audible, smack. His eyes poured over his opponent's face – all blue eyes and chin hair and half smirk – while he gently squeezed the man's hand and adjusted his grip subtly.

"Pfft," the Courtier articulated between his own lopsided smirk, giving his pale eyes a quick roll. "Wisdom an' age before beauty, whelp," he shot back, encouraged to do so by the chortling audience around them. Reblin lived for a crowd like this and the reactions – the laughter and the shouting and the howling – only energized him.

His opponents grip against his own was felt throughout his hand, from his palms to the back of his hand to the tips of his fingers. And he responded in like, opening and closing his fingers from around Prettyboy's wide hand as he waited. Yeah? I guess I use mine for harder things, then," he challenged through a sneer. He heard some members in the audience snicker at that and took it to mean he was winning this battle of words. "You got it, Prettyboy!"

He was not anticipating the woman and he was definitely not anticipating her bosom, but all of a sudden she was there and calling for them to get ready. The smirk vanished from Reblin's face when she slid forth a square of cloth from between the space of her sizable chest and lifted her hand high, only to trill theatrically for them to go! before pounding her hand against the table.

And then there was pressure against his arm and his muscles screamed and Reblin was not anticipating the woman. He clenched his fingers around his opponent's hand, and tried to recover from his surprise, but the woman and her cleavage were still there and he could not get his mind to focus. Quickly – much too quickly – his arm buckled he felt the back of his hand slap against the flat of the table with a crack that sounded like defeat.

"That wasn't fair!" the wolfdog snarled, snatching his hand away from Prettyboy's grip and rising with such speed that his chair tipped over and crashed to the floor. "You did that to distract me!" he accused, pointing at the busty woman without looking at her. The liquor had taken hold now and was egging him on. Wrinkling the bridge of his nose, Reblin was prepared to take his little arm wrestling match to the next level.

[WC — 432]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci

POSTED: Fri Jan 18, 2019 6:41 pm

455

The Courtier locked hands with him, the snap of their palms loud enough to be heard between them. He could feel the pressure of the limb against his braced hand, and could feel the surge of adrenaline withing as the seconds ticked by to get closer and closer to the moment of truth, where skills and strength were put to the test. Just as the other man was energized by the zeal of the crowd, so too was the Striker as their electricity went straight through his bones.

There were echoes of cheers and bets, snickers and jokes being made all around him. It was livelier and fun, and it was somehow so much more honest than Salsola ever was. He felt so at home in that place where people could have been lying to his face about his identity - hello pot calling the kettle black - but they were all there for the purpose of enjoyment (or drinking).

A small miracle occurred when the woman pulled her square of cloth and tantalized all the interested eyes in the small crowd. His opponent, too, seemed somewhat struck and dazed by the woman's ample proportions to the point that Krios could practically smell the opportunity in the air. When the call to go came into his ears, the Striker threw the strength of his bow arm into the push, straining as his muscle bulged with exertion. He shut his eyes at the effort, pushing harder to win. He was a winner after all.

The man's hand slapped the other side of the table, Krios' arm extended across, suggesting that it was not, in fact, his arm that slammed with force into the table. Krios won. His eyes widened and the shit-eating grin slapped itself upon his mug. He reclined back in victory as the other man rose, the smell of alcohol in the air, and accused the woman of making him fail. The rough scraping and crash of the chair briefly silenced the hall before the uproar came right back. Laughter and bets passed hands like flowing milk and Krios was smug in his victory.

I didn't falter here, so not her fault at all, mate, he snickered back at the Courtier. He had a wife at home, yes, but he had never put a hand on her and even he had not been distracted by the very opulent offering that his eyes could have feasted fully on.

The other man was in a tizzy and Krios had enough drink in him to dull the sense that he ought to have had. So he stood from his seat and crossed his arms. You gonna keep making a scene, old man? he challenged, smirking.

Krios Revlis
Come touch me like I’m an ordinary man. Have a look in my eyes. Underneath my skin there is a violence

Player WikiCommissionsCharacter Wiki
Salsola
The Striker
User avatar
Gen
Vedetto, Milite Mate to Kamari
Bloode Moste Potente
buy back the secrets

POSTED: Fri Jan 18, 2019 8:42 pm

Alcohol was a strange and powerful drug, though Reblin wouldn't fully understand that. All he knew was that he felt invincible and strong, filled with a certainty that nothing could hurt him and that he could beat this pretty boy and wipe that smug grin right off his smug face.

Didn't they understand, he wondered while he listened as the onlookers laughed and chattered and exchanged goods, that this person hadn't won fair and square? It was a distraction, nothing more. Couldn't they see how much bigger and stronger he was? Reblin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, sharp and loud.

"I'm not your mate, pal!" he snarled, his ivory brows hanging heavily over pale eyes. The bridge of his nose was made of ripples and the bottoms of his canines poked out from beneath dark lips. Why Prettyboy would call him his mate was beyond Reblin (they didn't even know each other, let alone share any semblance of love or devotion toward one another), though he suspected that it was meant to ridicule him even further.

Stepping back roughly, his body swaying gently against the pull of alcohol, Reblin watched as his opponent rose, smirking in that way that he wanted so badly to slap away, and engaged him in a challenge. "Sure!" he shot back, his hackles lifting along his shoulders and back. "Until kids like you learn that cheating ain't right!"

Then, suddenly, the Courtier pounded his broad chest with the fingers of his hands and bounced them back into the air again sharply. "Bring it, pup! Show me what you don't got!" Reblin thought this was clever, even in his foggy intoxication, and he would remember it for a good long time to come. Standing straight and square as a stone, piebald wolfdog openly encouraged a fight.

[WC — 312]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci

POSTED: Sat Jan 19, 2019 4:56 pm

367
omg Mandi this is so ridiculous thank you

The Courtier had such a strong reaction to a word he had not even thought would cause offence. He had heard some southern dogs speaking that way between one another ages past and the word had somehow filtered into his brain as totally suitable for the conversation. Besides, he had a mate, and he hardly considered it the same thing with this stranger.

Didn't figure you for the kind to fight for the other team, there, buddy, he countered sharply, laughing in a decidedly mocking way. Were he not married, he would have happily found a way to throw down the Courtier in more ways than one. He was hardly bad on the eyes and the spicy attitude was exactly what he liked in partners, but unfortunate for Reblin, Krios was very much happy with his loveless marriage. God, if his internal organs could wilt at that thought, they would have.

He growled playfully at Reblin as the other man threw down the challenge, making to fight right there in the bar. But Krios only had the one drink, not the whatever many that Reblin had. He put up a hand just as the man behind the bar started hollering. Ya'll take it outside. Don't be fightin' inside or ya better bet I won't let you in next time, he growled at them, glaring at them over the counter. Krios gestured to that barkeep, shrugged his shoulders and moved toward the door, bumping roughly past Reblin.

Come on old man, I can throw you down in the dirt any time you like. I'll spare you anything more adventerous than that, since unlike you, I've got someone waitin' for me, he warned, his own body warm with the alcohol he had himself consumed, but he was more stable on his feet, and more than ready to pound the drunken Courtier into the ground. Unless you're afraid I'll really make you a mate, he added, hollering with laughter as he left the bar to wait in the dark ground outside, where he had gotten into his own share of fights.

There he stood, waiting, all full of cocky piss and vinegar.

Krios Revlis
Come touch me like I’m an ordinary man. Have a look in my eyes. Underneath my skin there is a violence

Player WikiCommissionsCharacter Wiki
Salsola
The Striker
User avatar
Gen
Vedetto, Milite Mate to Kamari
Bloode Moste Potente
buy back the secrets

POSTED: Sun Jan 20, 2019 7:53 pm

Under different circumstances, and without the influence of alcohol encouraging him to behave as he presently was, Reblin might have found it possible to develop a friendship with the quick-witted, sharp-tongued man. But these were not different circumstances and he was caught too far within the liquor's tight embrace to see his opponent as anything other than that: an opponent. And, because that was blatantly what he was, Reblin saw all those characteristics that he might have found hilarious to be grating, vexing, and just plain stupid.

And it definitely did not help the man any, the Courtier thought as his opponent laughed derisively, by having such a dumb, punchable face.

"Well, you're not so smart then, are you, friend?" Reblin did not understand what the man was going on about with his comment about fighting for the other side, but he took it to mean that his opponent thought they were on the same side. What a simpleton! Didn't he realize that Reblin was prepared to wrestle the man to the ground until he screamed uncle? Maybe, he thought belatedly, he was getting confused by Reblin's use of friendlier forms of address. "Huh, dummy?" he corrected, grinning.

There was a snarl from behind the bar after the Courtier outwardly challenged the other man to a fight, but Reblin was not deterred. And neither, it seemed, was the cocky brat. "Joke's on you, whelp! I can pound you better when I'm on the ground," he countered to another chorus of snickers and chuckles. When the man bumped roughing into him, Reblin pushed his arms out with intent to shove him back. "Who's that, your horse?" he said through a barking laugh, as he headed ataxically toward the door. "Pfft, you wish," he added, sucking in the cold air as he stepped outside.

Once they were both outside the tavern, clouds of breath billowing out into the air around them, Reblin balled one hand into a fist and pounded it repeatedly into the palm of the other. He felt clearer-headed out here, with winter's kiss pressing in all around him, though that did not mean he was any less inebriated. "Let's go, pup." A few of the patrons had followed the men outside and had formed a semicircle around the brawlers, no doubt placing bets once again. "Here, I'll even let you have the first hit," Reblin offered, shaking out his muscular arms and squaring his hips.

From the audience, a hoot rose up and others joined in, jeering and cajoling the brawlers on.

OOC: :''') oh god this is fun. OOC ending = Reblin is KOed by Krios before he can make an even greater fool of himself lolol.

[WC — 435]


User avatar
Mandi
Luperci

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