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!”

 

[Sean Wicke]

Sean Wicke didn't like the fights, really. He saw enough of blood and violence in his life that he felt no need to seek out more, at least not for entertainment. Still, he'd found himself moody and melancholic as of late, the onset of winter a reminder of the approach of that damnable holiday that, every year, made his existence a test of survival. Whenever that melancholy set in, he found there was only one solution. Here at the fight club, where beasts ripped, tore, and clawed at each other, he saw the beasts of Bully Harbor in their truest form, either braying for blood or gleefully spilling it. It was a graphic reminder of a grim truth: that all of their civilization and society was a veneer, and that the moment the law looked away, it could become Beat-an-Anyone Day at any time and any place. His day was just the rare one to be state-sanctioned.

Disinterested in the match now that the stoat had fled, Sean scanned the crowd, trying to guess by their dress and mode who they were when the eyes of civilization were upon them. That one, he suspected, was a banker; the one next to him a baker, the third a dockpaw. His eyes traveled further up, closer to the rafters, and he paused. That beast he didn't have to guess as to. She'd made her skill and identity quite known to him already. He considered ignoring her, but if she saw him first, she might get the wrong idea about what he was here for, or attempt her revenge on him unprompted. She still might seek it, he supposed, but if she was in the business, then she'd respect the informal codes of their profession as well. She'd probably still try to kill him in the alley outside the moment that he left, but that was a later problem.

Sean pushed his way to the outside of the crowd and circled it, climbing up to join the vixen in her vantage point. He leaned forward, the lapels of his suit pressing outward slightly as he bent from the waist, his long, greasy headfur hanging limply around his roughly-kempt face. As a matter of habit he started cataloging the objects around them, considering what could be used as a weapon just in case she tried to kill him. "Hey," he gruffly greeted her, not looking at her. He considered for a moment what he could say. "I never thanked you for our fight," he said at last. "It's been a while since I was tested like that." He still wasn't sure what the outcome would have been; he wasn't vain enough to assume his own survival, and had certainly taken enough surprise skillets over the head to recognize his literal and metaphorical blind spots. He snuck a sidelong glance at her, trying to gauge her intentions. "Never got your name either."

~~~

"Ain' inner'sted in yer ruby," a voice with a bit of an Upper Slups drawl remarked, followed by the cracking of knuckles, "or'n takin' yer life, bu' let's say I bea' ya t' a bloody pulp an' 'en leave ya wiv' both. I reckon ye'd owe me a chat 't leas' 'en, ey?" The beast that stepped up to the edge of the cage, stripping off his coat and getting to work on his cravat and button-down shirt with paws wrapped in blood-stained bandages, was one of the easily most recognizable beasts this side of Bully Harbor. After all, there were very few foxes with that yellowish-gold shade of fur, and only one within that category with those dark, resentful eyes over a snout made slightly asymmetrical by the repeated application of blunt force over the years. Falun Furotazzi finished stripping off his shirt, leaving his chest exposed, as he paced the outside of the cage, his gaze fixed on Orion. "Ya feel like a challenge, young'un?" he goaded, stretching out his arms and, pawfingers interlaced, loudly cracked his knuckles once more.

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

The crowd surrounding Falun stepped back with a mix of reverence and dread. The cheers died away to mere mutters and whispers. Every beast knew of Falun. Unfortunately for Orion, he didn't. He spat a thick glob of blood onto the floor, and he motioned with his head for Falun to enter the ring. The referee's eyes widened, and he hurried to step out of the cage, along with Orion's previous opponent.

"You don't know what you're doing, kid." The referee said. "You've had your first fight. You don't need to accept every challenge!"

"Nah." Orion shook his head. "If he wants to fight just for the sake of fightin', I'll show this dandy a good time." He curled his paws into fists, widening his stance. It was clear that the young fox was still pumped up on adrenaline. Any beast with half a brain would know better than to do what Orion was doing now.

 

[Falun Furotazzi]

Falun couldn't help but crack a smile at the 'dandy' comment. He'd heard every insult under the sun leveled at him over the years, to the point where most had lost meaning. He never let the sting linger for long, either. After all, it was hard for a beast to keep insulting someone around a mouthful of their own teeth. He stepped into the cage, pacing leisurely to circle this newcomer in the ring. The lad had a few good moves, his footwork wasn't bad either, but Falun had taken down far more dangerous beasts in his time. The real trick would be getting this stubborn little brat to stay down without Falun having to deal real damage. Putting the lad in traction would make him useless for Falun's aims, after all.

The moment the bell rang, Falun was in motion. He surged forward, fist swinging with half his weight behind him. If the fool didn't dodge, Falun didn't want to break his neck, and if he did, then Falun didn't want to overcommit and be caught off-balance. The rush of the challenge coursed through his veins, the scent of blood in his nose driving him forward with a vicious gleam in his eye.

~~~

Morgan had been thrilled to find out that Bully Harbor had a fight club. She'd been less thrilled when Barrett had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to be getting into any unnecessary scraps or bouts yet. Between the punctured lung from Urk and the shrapnel wound to the shoulder at the opera house, Morgan's body still needed a little recovery time before she'd be back in fighting form..

So instead she stood in the crowd, Vihma under one arm, the other raised with a bottle of some terrible overpriced ale raised in the other as the ferret cheered hoarsely for the match. "Kick 'is tail!" she called, not caring which of the pair received the encouragement. She looked to Vihma with a grin, the alcohol hot on her breath. "'S fun, righ'?" she enthused, oblivious to her girlfriend's discomfort. "Don' get ennertainmen' like 'is in the Trenches."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Beneath the roaring and jeering of the crowd, buoyed as they were on the bloody victory, Tanya’s smirk of approval turned to a snort of mirth. Oh, for the confidence of youth. Orion had done well to show such fortitude in combat but the invitation for more was likely to bite him in the tail and here came the fangs.

The new todd on the scene was broad and seemed a capable sort on top of being fresh in the ring. Orion really had opened his mouth without thinking, and she couldn’t really find him too foolish for that. She’d done as much, surging with adrenaline and anger and a desire to make a statement. It made her wonder how often beasts had tried to come for that fang of his, for Bully was always likely to find such a gem magnetic.

The vixen only had a moment or two to size him up regarding his fighting capabilities before the sheen of golden fur, something in the shape of his face and confident voice, made her stomach drop.

Oh. Oh ‘Gates.

Her mouth went dry. Tanya’s brow furrowed, trying to process what it was she was feeling. She was distracted enough that it wasn’t until he was a few feet from her that she even noted the presence of the feline approaching her. Her hackles rose as she chastised herself, cautious of what he might say.

Clearly he’d recognised her, disguise or not, though she knew it wouldn’t have held to much scrutiny as close-contact as they had been. Her gaze remained on the unfolding combat, though she offered the cat a quick glance, assessing him and his words. It was…refreshingly polite.

She’d not expected him to have enjoyed the combat, and now she reflected on it…she’d found it rather exhilarating, herself. The jobs she’d taken since leaving the Imperium had been simple enough assassination contracts with little real contact, so to have quite literally had her life on the line had been…nostalgic. If she didn’t think too hard on the violence her brain had wanted to resort to, it had been quite, dare she say it, fun. Particularly when contrasted with the utter farce of the rest of the night. For her part there was no real question: she strongly suspected that with enough time Sean could well have killed her.

Next time she’d be prepared.

“You owe me a shirt,” the fox groused, though her eyes reflected no such irritation. “Not so bad yourself: reckon you’d clean up in a ring like this.” A nod to the action, still reeling from the sight of the new todd in the cage, and she extended a paw. “Name’s Tox. You? Somethin’ tells me we’re going to be crossin’ paths more often’n not in the coming seasons.”

 

[Fanjo Mercytooth]

Amid the hollering crowd, Fanjo watched today's spectacle with folded arms. He had been studying the fighters, eyeing their moves for promise of future coin whether through plain gambling or choosing the ring himself. The bounty hunter tended not to seek out unnecessary fights. Profit, however, could sing a tempting tune.

This new fox had impressed him. But then he had seen Falun step into the cage.

Fanjo got the bookie's attention.

"Twenny gilders on Furotazzi."​

 

[Sean Wicke]

Sean couldn't help a momentary chuckle at the toothless quip about the shirt. He considered taking off his own and offering it to the vixen, but it was clearly not her size. As the matter turned to names, his face fell, turning serious. Tox. The Tox. The Last Quartermaster's reputation had outlived her last life in Bully Harbor, and even now she remained a legend in the business, a mistress of death with a command of poisons that put most of Misanthropy to shame. That Sean had survived a bout with her he took as a point of personal pride.

Of course, there was the matter of his name. He hesitated, debating making something up, or refusing outright... But then, the AffecSeanados were still out there in the shadows somewhere, and if he didn't leave town by Frimary, they'd be coming for him anyway. Besides, it's not like revealing his name would endanger him until then.

He took Tox's paw, shaking it firmly. "Sean Wicke." He held the shake for a minute before dropping her paw, looking down at the scene below. The violence the golden fox was about to visit on his arctic opponent was almost a foregone conclusion, hardly worth the spectacle. "Didn't figure this would be your scene," he commented. He noticed the vixen's eyes tracking the golden fox, and he inquired, more as an ice breaker, "You have money riding on Falun?" The Furotazzis, at least at their present moment, couldn't afford his rates, but he'd kept an eye out for the scion of the crime family and his sister. After all, someone might pay to take a hit out on them one day.

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

Orion didn't dodge. He threw up his arm, blocking Falun's strike and absorbing the blow, before he came around with his free arm, landing a hit squarely on the golden fox's snout. He then leaped back, holding his arms up and glaring from between them. He couldn't get a read on this guy, other than the fact he seemed to revelling in the fight.

The bookie, a little rat who barely reached some beasts knees, was standing next to a large chalkboard in the back, and he was grabbing everyone's cash and writing bets as fast as his little paws could carry him. The odds were heavily stacked against the newcomer now, despite his previous victory having burned more than a few beasts out of some betting cash. It seemed none dared to put up money on the older fox's loss.

 

[Falun Furotazzi]

Blood spouted as the blow broke open capillaries in Falun's nose that, from years of constant abuse, were almost always exposed and a solid sneeze away from bleeding. As the red coated Falun's lips, he grinned, some of his own blood running into his teeth. The manic glee in his eye was only contained by dangerous mind at work behind it. "Nah bad," he commented before he leaned in, this time going for a quick sequence of jabs to test the newcomer, blows to the gut, the ear, and a vicious uppercut chained to offer a real challenge.

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

Orion grunted. He wasn’t able to stop the punches that quickly. He took the gut punches with a grunt, stumbling back. He blocked the blows to his ears, but he left his chin exposed, allowing Falun to deliver the uppercut with vicious efficiency. He was thrown back, slamming into the metal cage, where dozens of clammy paws grabbed at his back and neck, throwing him forward into the fight once more. Stars danced in his vision, and he swayed back and forth, but he didn’t fall, putting up his fists and lunging forward to slam his fist into Falun’s stomach in return.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Arthur set his jaw. and meandered his way through the club. In general, he did his best to keep away from places like this... but as Thistle said, "Threads have a way of tugging us where we’re most in need... whether we know it or not." Between his broad resentment towards his life circumstances and general outlook on the world, Arthur already felt like breaking someone's nose. But when news reached him that Coddy threw Berchar out a window... now he had an excuse. Though he wouldn't admit it, it was going to feel good.

Time to make Thistle proud.

Of course, Arthur had never actually seen Coddy -- which perhaps wasn't the brightest decision. And on top of that -- as it was his first time at Fight Club, he'd already sworn that he would fight someone, and they'd taken his shirt and shoes at the door as downpayment. Not the best decision he'd ever made, but worst case, he could -- Vulpuz's saggy left ear, it's @Morgan Liu. Of course she'd be here. Arthur had to do his best to keep from shouting out her full name like a scolding parent... there was already enough negative attention he was racking up for himself.

Well, these were the sorts of problems you had to take head on. The marten quietly stalked up alongside his crewmates to watch the fight. "Mooooorgan Liu... Am I going to have to tell Cap'n Gyles that you're not obeying doctors orders?" he asked, as casually as if he'd sat down next to them at a tavern. "Vihma..." he acknowledged, with a deferring nod.

It was certainly a different side of the marten than they were perhaps used to seeing. For starters, he was only wearing a pair of trousers. As an officer, Arthur tried to keep a level of dignity aboard the Hide -- and that meant never letting anyone see him in his skivvies. But dignity also meant a more reserved demeanor. It would just be pretentious of him to try and keep a hold of that tonight.

The old marten had stayed rather fit for his age, and his stature would give him an edge on most of the beasts here. But Arthur had a handicap -- fresh stitches ran across his back. Not waiting for a response from the two girls, he continued on with his quest. "Either of you seen a small jerboa around here? Short guy -- likely patching up the fighters?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the fight.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Sean? The name was enough to draw her gaze from the combat to study the wildcat’s features afresh. He was no kit: this cat had seen his fair share of those holiday events and, by the looks, come out of it in pretty good shape. One had to respect that alone, irrespective of previous experience fighting him. She gave his paw a squeeze. Perhaps they’d have a rematch before the end of the year, but part of her was tempted to stay her paw. She was beginning to understand why Dusk would keep him around and would far rather have him as an ally. "I'd say we got off on the wrong paw but that night was an absolute farce."

Her ear flicked at the confirmation of the combatant’s name, regarding the fight once more. There was a bizarre dual discomfort: the sight of this fox carrying so much of his father in himself in appearance, stark against the violence of his actions; the golden fur and namesake so bittersweet. Falun had never grown as old as this one. She’d need a word with him, though what she would even think to say she didn’t know.

“Mmmh, somethin’ like that,” Tanya replied, wondering if Falun would go so far as to try and pry that fang loose. “Not a bad place to start looking for some talent. Got my fangs knocked out a few times in my youth like poor Orion down there.” She nodded to the white fox. “Still, he's fightin’ the odds and that counts for something, wouldn’t you say?”

 

[Vihmastaja]

@Arthur Barrett @Morgan Liu

The underground fighting ring hadn’t been Vihma’s first thought when Morgan proposed they go out somewhere for the night. It wasn’t so much that she was surprised by the existence of such a thing – over a long enough time, just about anything with an outcome to be gambled on became an insititution in Bully.

And, as she let herself be led around by Morgan, seeing her so animated by the event, and of course the lousy booze the place had to offer, Vihma found herself less than surprised that her jillfriend had seen to come here. It was just up the ferret’s alley, so to speak. Dangerous and loud, maybe a little crazy.

The weasel’s eyes flicked across the room ever so often, taking stock of her surroundings even as Morgan cheered on the fighters. The violence was nothing new, nothing alien to a beast who’d taken her first lives in combat not so long ago now on Urk’s frigid shores. It didn’t mean she liked it, though. Worse yet was the clientele such a place attracted. Memories of Calaisee and other old foes played musically in her mind as a familiar voice suddenly cut through the din.

It was the ship’s surgeon back on the Hide. Barrett. She couldn’t hide the look of surprise on her face. The marten looked different, uncomposed – not like she’d ever seen him back aboard the ship.

“’Gates,” she whispered to herself, under the noise of the club, barely nodding her own acknowledgment as he addressed her.

“Jer- Jer-what, now? ‘aven’t a clue what that’d be, mate.”

She scanned the room again, not knowing what to look for, shifting uncomfortably in Morgan’s loose embrace. At least this was a task she could focus on.

“Not… not sure what I'm lookin' for, Doc… Not used t’this place.”

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan almost didn't recognize Barrett; she'd looked away from the match, going from shouting herself hoarse to staring quizzically at the marten before it clicked. "Oh 'Gates, Barrett? 'At you ol' man?" she grinned, recognizing the informality of the event, and opted to give her girlfriend a slightly intoxicated kiss on the cheek. Let Barrett take that back to the Hide. "Ain' seen no jerboa," she confirmed, adding, "Li'l hoppin' mouse folk," for Vihma's enlightenment. "Reckon if one was 'ere, they'd be hard t' spot in the crowd. Bu' 'ey, I saw a figh'er go 'at way after 'e los' a few teeth." She pointed in the vague direction. "Migh' try yer luck once 'is poor sap goes down."

She took another swig of her overpriced ale before suggesting to Vihma, "Reckon there's a bookie somewhere' bouts 'ere. We coul' place a few bets, maybe it'll pay fer a nice fishstick dinner."

Morgan had taken with great enthusiasm to her introduction to non-fish fishsticks. The problem was, she'd taken to it with too much enthusiasm. They'd had the fish six times in two weeks, and the dish was getting a bit stale.

~~~

Sean watched the fight carry on, considering Tanya's assessment of the match. "He'll lose," he stated, a weariness in his tone. "He's outmatched, up against an opponent who's been doing this for years. If he were smart, he'd have walked away, or just laid down and played dead. Instead he's just prolonging the inevitable, and getting his balls kicked in for his stubbornness."

Are we still talking about the boxing match? He had to wonder himself as to the answer.

"And there it goes," he added with a sigh as the scrappy arctic fox was caught by his opponent's famed left hook, falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. "Bookies'll be upset; they make more when the fight is drawn out and folks think there's a chance for an upset. A match like this gains them nothing but chump change." He glanced over at Tanya, adding, "If you're aiming to recruit that kid for something, knock some sense into him first. He should have plenty of holes in his teeth to fill with it."

~~~

Falun caught a few more blows, trading here and there with Orion. The kid was quick, but his stamina was lacking, and the blows he blocked and those he didn't were taking a combined toll on him. At this point the match ceased to be a challenge, and Falun felt his amusement wane. He spent enough of his time beating fools for gilders; he didn't need to make it his hobby as well.

A left hook that Orion couldn't dodge in time was enough to lay him out, and as the judge counted off the seconds, Falun rubbed at his paw. His knuckles had started to bleed through the bandages again, merging with all of the blood, his and others', that already stained it. No, it hadn't been a close match, but then again, none of his early matches here had been either. He'd left plenty of his teeth on the floor over the years, though as he surveyed the mat, he noticed one among them that was a little different. He knelt down as the bell rang out the match and picked up the ruby fang, then offered the dazed Orion his prize back, plus a paw up. "Migh' wanna pu' somethin' cold on yer face," he advised, "an' find a trustable den'ist. Now, how 'bou' tha' chat?"

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

Orion didn't know when he fell. Stars danced in his eyes, and his ears were ringing. The only thing that brought him back to reality was the sight of the golden fox holding-

The Bloodtooth.

His paw shot out and snatched the fang back. It had been his father's. His father's father's. His father's father's father's. His family's legacy, or... what was left of it, resided within this heirloom. He warily accepted the offered paw and helped himself up, still wobbling. "Yea-" He started, spitting a large gob of blood from his maw. "We can talk."

The referee ushered the two fighters out of the ring. "Get on outta here, kid. Get patched up. We got more fights to get through today."

The little rat turned to the crowd. "ALRIGHT, FELLAS! WHO'S NEXT?!"

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

A tilt of the head as she listened to the disenchanted observations of the tom beside her and Tanya grunted in agreement, though the tip of her brush twitched. “He could lay down,” she agreed, “but he’s still trying to stand against impossible odds. Stubborn an’ stupid it might be when experience tells us the game’s up, but brave’s not a bad trait to have, is it?”

Still, it was a foregone conclusion and as Orion hit the floor Tanya added her applause to the cheering crowds around them. “Not sure it’s just the kid I want to talk to after all,” she mused, eyes darting between Orion and Falun. She’d want a chat with them both – needed to talk to Falun - but Sean was a cat she desperately wanted to get to know, now. She was loathe to let him slip into the background and melt away like snow in her paws, and she strongly suspected that such was a method he employed best.

Well then, she’d just have to devise ways to keep him here.

“You’re right, you know: short bouts don’t make ‘em all that much money. Need experienced paws to make a proper show out of it.” Sliding onto her footpaws, she was already raising an arm to try and signal to the rat as she looked to Sean with glittering eyes. “Why don’t you go show ‘em how it’s done?”

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Arthur's muzzle cracked into a cheeky grin at Morgan's recognition -- it only took one glance at Vihma to guess whose idea it was to visit an underground fight club, though. "Bookies? You gonna be wagering against this 'old man'?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "I dunno, I might have a few tricks up my sleeve yet!" The marten nodded his thanks, and turned to wade his way through the crowds.

With the beaten and bruised fighters being escorted out of the arena, Arthur tailed them closely. Goodness... He didn't want to be losing a tooth here. Not at his age. Eventually, the beasts came to a stop at a makeshift infirmary -- where a small jerboa sat waiting with his kit. Arthur playfully bumped onto him, and surveyed his realm. "Now where's this yellow bellied room mate of yours?"