Open Duel The Trenches Fight Club

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club! Third rule of Fight Club: if someone yells “Stop!”, goes limp, or taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time. Sixth rule: the fights are bare knuckle; No shirt, no shoes, no weapons. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight.

These were the rules, as had been explained to Orion by a gangly weasel with a missing tooth. The second rule seemed redundant, it was just the first rule repeated again. He also didn't understand why there were beasts out and about supposedly canvassing for new members of their club if speaking about it was forbidden.

"And does the winner receive anything after they've beaten their opponent?" Orion asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, often times money exchanges paws, yes." The weasel explained, rubbing his own paws together. "Most of the time it's just for glory. Though I will say that ruby of yours makes for a fair prize."

"The Bloodtooth is not for sale." Orion snarled, baring his teeth, the ruby canine glinting in the sunlight. "It's an old family heirloom."

"Well, best not to be knocked out then, fella." The weasel shrugged, placing a paw on Orions back and guiding him along. "I can tell you've got a lot of pent up anger. Wouldn't you just want to smash the daylights out of some beasts face? Free of consequence?"

Orion shrugged. He didn't particularly enjoy punching things, or creatures for that matter, but if it was just a contest of skill, it couldn't hurt.

He was lead down the road, through a shady alleyway, to a run down looking warehouse with more than a few windows smashed out. There was a tough looking badger standing guard at one of the wide double doors, and the weasel winked at him. The badger simply grunted, and he stepped aside, allowing the two of them to step in.

And that was how Orion found himself in a metal cage, which was surrounded by jeering, cheering, whooping and hooting onlookers. He had just taken a nasty right hook, and wiped his muzzle.

"Imma take that ruby!" His opponent, a stoat, snarled, curling up his fist for another punch.

"Ye'll have ter kill me fer it!" Orion snapped, rushing forward and slamming his fist into the stoat's stomach.

 

[Berchar Fleetfoot]

Ears down to try and protect his senses from the overwhelming racket, Berchar really wished he hadn’t been dragged to the event. Coddy had insisted it would be good for making up money on the rent by offering to patch up both winner and loser throughout the course of the evening – and in truth he couldn’t deny that – but he knew the weasel was keen on the betting itself. Perched on a stool beside the lanky weasel, he tried to focus on cleaning up the bloody knuckles of an exhausted ferret as Codtail bellowed and jeered. “Fifty on the white’un!”

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Tanya, for her part, was not here to fight or gamble. Granted in her youth she had thrown herself into the cage on several occasions (to highly varied outcomes) but these days she had come to appreciate the value in preserving her skills. No sense breaking her snout in an unnecessary fight, after all.

No, rather she was here to keep tabs on the competitors themselves. Without an officially sanctioned job within the city there came a newfound freedom to be had in prowling these illicit little gatherings. It was perfect: from here she could observe and gather what she wanted without the need to concern herself with propriety or duty. Winners and losers meant little to her for potential came in all shapes and sizes. Tonight she was here to take note of who she should keep an eye on, or perhaps recommend her friends in the Ministries approach.

Green eyes narrowed in calculating silence, the diminutive vixen found herself a decent vantage point from which to observe. Keeping a shattered window in mind for a swift exit should the fighting ring be discovered, Tanya watched the new conflict with interest. Brows rose as she recognised the white-furred todd now entering the ring, unconsciously leaning forward a little to better watch the spectacle unfold. Now this was interesting: she was keen to see how Orion would do.

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

At this point, the stoat had grabbed Orion by a scruff of fur around his neck, and was repeatedly punching him in the muzzle.

“YOU! WILL! GIVE! ME! THAT! RUBY!” He snarled, annunciating each word by slamming his fist into Orion’s jaw. He seemed to be obsessed over it. The ruby canine, that every beast had gotten a chance to see by now. The odds seemed not to be in the newcomer’s favor. He was getting hit, hard, but at the same time he was soaking it up like a champ.

Orion grabbed the stoat’s wrist, and he threw his opponent to the ground, rearing his leg back and kicking him square in the stomach. The referee, the greasy looking weasel with a missing tooth, said nothing. Apparently there were no holds barred in this fight club of theirs. The stoat groaned and clutched his stomach, quickly scrambling to his feet and lunging at Orion, teeth flashing as he tried to rip out his throat. Orion met him in the attack, the stoat instead biting his shoulder, drawing blood. The referee shouted something, but it was drowned out by the rabid cheers of the crowd. Orion and the stoat went down in a tangle of fur and limbs, their otherwise civilized brawl having devolved into a feral and bloody scrap. Claws slashed at fur, teeth tore away flesh, occasionally a punch or a kick met an opponent’s head or leg.

Finally, Orion got on top of the stoat, paws around his throat, and started to squeeze. The Stoat wheezed, his eyes wide with terror, and he immediately started to tap the ground. The referee threw open the bars of the cage and rushed in, wrenching Orion off of him. “Hell’s Teeth, mate! Calm down, son, you won!”

Orion stood, wobbly, blood pouring from his snout and having an ugly black eye.

“We gotta winner folks!” The weasel held up Orion’s paw. “What’s your name, kid?”

Orion leaned down and muttered to the weasel.

“ORION BLOODTOOTH THE FOURTH!” The weasel declared to the crowd. “You gotta few words about your victory, kid?”

Orion stepped into the middle of the ring, and the stoat scrambled away towards the referee.

“Listen to me!” Orion’s words were slurred, he was bleeding a lot from his mouth. “You lot see this?!” He pulled back at his lips to reveal the Bloodtooth, the ruby slick with blood. “This is MY ruby!” He snarled. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to BEAT ME! And if you want to beat me, you’re gonna have to KILL ME FIRST!”