[Mature] Ilaren is the occasion

[Varthakh]

1st Ashan 717

With nothing to do again, Fridgar had gone exploring. That trial he had discovered the tavern, of course. Where would Fridgar be without his booze and brawling? Certainly, not at home. Brawling wasn't quite the word to fit his fighting style though, brawling implied that his opponents had a chance. What better way to celebrate the end of the dark season than a good old fashioned piss-up? That's exactly what Fridgar was doing, spending the fresh sunlight in a poorly lit tavern, contesting to finish half the tavern's supply of booze.

Though, as fantastic as Fridgar found the Tavern, this one had a flaw; the people of Etzos hated immortals, they'd likely shank him for openly worshipping Ilaren. That didn't stop the Lothar, however. Having already had a few, Fridgar approached the bartender and asked for four drinks. Naturally, the man looked to him with suspicion before Fridgar explained that they weren't all for him. The Bartender had been kind enough to supply him a tray to assist with the carrying of the drinks, all were in glass tankards. With a joyous smile, the freakishly huge Lothar approached a table of three men, none of them were scrawny, either.

One of the men was large and puffed out his chest and widened his arms as to try and make himself look muscular, when he was blatantly just fat, another was well built with plenty of muscle and body fat alike - but didn't care much for toning and the third was leaner but quite defined. "Good trial! Have a round on my... Me, fellas." he'd refrained from saying 'My immortal' just in time, while he'd bought these losers a round purely for Ilaren, they didn't need to know that, right? For that reason, Fridgar held back the urges bubbling deep in his gut and handed out the tankards of ale. "Wow, thanks!" The lean one spoke, taking a tankard for himself and enjoying a big gulp of the soft booze. The beefy one looked sceptical to the fat one before shrugging and nodding respectfully to Fridgar "Cheers, 'nice to be given a drink for a change." He spoke in a deep voice. The fatty merely took the tankard offered to him and spoke "So what’s the occasion?" and Fridgar halted.

What's the occasion? span in his head - shit. What was the occasion? Why had he bought these men drinks if not to serve an immortal? Think Fridgar, think. Instinctively, he quickened his ether in preparation for an unleash - despite having nothing to turn into. In response, his body shook and sweat lightly, flushing at the skin under the force his spark was exerting. Finally, he thought of the right answer - Why did he give a fuck? He stood and raised his tankard before roaring "ILAREN IS THE OCCAISION, LET THIS BOOZE WARM YOUR GUT ON THIS CHILLY ASHAN MORNING!" he toasted before knocking back the drink entirely. The three at the table looked confused amongst each other, it was likely that they didn't know who Ilaren was, especially in an immortal deprived city like Etzos. Unfortunately, Fridgar didn't see it that way and immediately smashed his glass tankard on the fat man's head when he finished.

The two looked at him with jaws dropped as their friend fell unconscious in a puddle of blubber. The lean was the first to react, jumping to his feet and meeting a backhand that sent him to the floor - Fridgar was going ham for what appeared to be no reason. He was gripped suddenly from the front by the burly one and by the immortals did he have some strength behind him, Fridgar gripped him in return and leaned his weight and strength into him in a furious tussle. They were almost matched for strength, if Fridgar didn't harness his adrenaline in that trill, they would have been locked for a lot longer. Alas, Fridgar threw the man to the side and caught him with a left hook as he fell on the reverse swing, knocking the man to the right with fresh momentum.

The male fell to his fore-arms, still awake. Not for long though, Fridgar picked up his chair by the backrest and swung it overhead, dropping the seat on the back of the fallen male, breaking the piece of furniture and knocking the male unconscious. He would roar furiously, slamming his fists into his chest in an effort to rile up the whole tavern before turning around to meet his next opponent - as he'd said before, he would continue to raise hell in Ilaren's name until she shook his hand or punched him out cold. Who would be next to fall to her might this trial?

[Pegasus]

Etzos was a strange place, but she found it interesting. Usually, of course, she spent her time in Rharne but here was a very different place. Not entirely where she would choose to sit and drink, but she was here for a reason. This one, a mortal who had piqued her interest. He drank and he fought, those seemed to be his two main pastimes and, as he put down a tray she felt his devotion, even if he did not say it.

Her lips lifted as he managed to not say her name for all of five trills.

Fire and fury, that was what Fridgar was and she appreciated that in a mortal. He was large, too and strong. Of course, strong was a relative term and Ilaren graciously sipped her wine as she watched. It wasn't something that she did as a matter of habit, sitting and watching mortals but this one was intriguing to her.

And then, the fight started.

A wide grin came over her face and she stopped the genteel sipping and finished her wine. It was a good taste, crisp and dry; not too sweet but with a good honest taste. The Immortal watched and then, with a grin she stood. Fridgar was in the midst of a wonderful brawl and he turned to punch the person behind him. That person was a woman with deep red hair and eyes which flashed. Her expression was delighted as he turned and she punched him.

Fridgar had been punched many, many times before. He had taken his fair share of beatings, and given more in return. However, he had probably never been knocked off his feet to the point that he flew backwards. Damn, but that woman could punch.

Fridgar landed in a crashing heap, of course on a table which shattered beneath him. Tankards and glasses fell and there was swearing and shouting. The woman who had punched him raised an eyebrow and then she lifted a hand, crooked a single finger and then bent it in a very obvious gesture, beckoning him. Come here was what the gesture usually meant, but in this moment it was obviously much more than that. Her smile was clear and there was a very obvious sense of... come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough.

[Varthakh]

This was his element, if not becoming. To spend all trial in an unfamiliar tavern, drinking it up and breaking noses, sounded like the ideal way to spend Fridgar’s time. Even more so if someone could hit back for once. It had been quite some time since anyone last managed to land a good blow on Fridgar, one that hurt, anyway. That was until just a trill prior where a woman of all things had flattened him in an instant.

Looking about the room revealed that he’d already thrown the whole damn tavern into chaos with his previous uproar; People had gotten up from their seats and were having a go at one another, merrily beating out the brains of whoever they could get their hands on. That was the case for everyone except this red-head and himself, as though there was an invisible ring around the two that prevented anyone from interfering with the carnage that was about to be unleashed.

Who even was this woman? It wasn’t every day that someone challenged him, let alone knocked him off his feet. In fact, the last person to have done that was Valyeria’s father more than two seasons ago and nobody had managed a blow so strong in the six arcs prior to that. Whoever this girl was, she knew what she was doing. Fridgar stared at her in shock, blinking once or twice as his brain processed what had happened. He’d just been floored by a girl. Worse yet, she was smiling with her eyes – was she playing? WAS THAT NOT A FULL FORCE STRIKE?

With a hefty grunt, Fridgar lifted himself from the broken furniture and brushed himself off. His one eye would meet the red head’s and he’d cock his head with a smile, showing his open hands as if to ask ’do you really wanna do that, miss?’ – a hint of arrogance in his posture, as though he already knew he could beat her. Fridgar did not know the identity of the woman before him, which was more than likely a good thing. Seeing no sign of backing down, Fridgar would shrug with his hands open at his sides, speaking ’your loss’ fluently with his body language.

His stance would widen as he stepped forward, raising his forearms in a basic guard. Fridgar resisted the savage urges of his mutated mind and curled his paws into fists rather than claws. He also made the decision here to avoid headshots, it wasn’t uncommon for him to accidentally kill or lame someone with his unnatural strength when he threw fists for the most important part of the body. This woman would live to fight another day, he would do his best to make sure of this. She’d apparently earned his respect with a single punch.

Fridgar opened with a right hook, missing completely – she was fast, lightning fast. His attack had left him open, easy for the woman to exploit should she want. Regardless, Fridgar’s heavy fist sounded a gust as it missed any impact at all. He would not attempt to dodge any of her strikes, but instead to catch them, block them or redirect them appropriately.

In all of his arcs, he’d never thought a woman would be a worthy adversary for him. But somehow, she might have even exceeded his might. After trading a few blows, if he’d even managed to land any, he’d bring out the big guns and take hold of his adrenaline by the reins, harnessing it to his reflexes and speed. He’d throw in his first real strike, testing the waters of what sort of force this woman would be able to take – she was made of something else. By the immortals was her body tough, he rarely encountered men as solid as she’d been. Rolling his shoulders, Fridgar grinned – this was the green light to let loose. He lifted his eyepatch, nobody would notice his witchmark amidst the scuffle.

Fire in his eyes, he stepped forward and unleashed a flurry of blows, far faster than he’d been throwing before, though mostly inaccurate. At any point his onslaught drifted too high, he’d redirect downward to her body once more. He was getting into this, could she handle the heat?

[Pegasus]

He was arrogant, every part of him showed it. Ilaren smiled in delight as he swaggered and looked at her with pity in his soon to be cold, dead eyes. Males of the species, any species, seemed to think that women were weak and really, not many of them were bright enough to work out anything different. He shrugged at her, as if letting her know that he had tried to give her an 'out' and Ilaren chuckled.

And so, a fight ensued. Now, there have been many fights in the history of Idalos. The number of bar room brawls were probably a number too high to comprehend, but then there was this. This fight between the Lothar with such strength as legends are made and the very Immortal of brawling. Fridgar swung a left hook and it missed, but the wind of it gusted past her and Ilaren gave him that one. He had left himself open, but she didn't want to end this too soon.

As the fight progressed, swing for swing she matched him. Some of his blows hit and they rocked her on her feet, just as hers did to him. But then, as Fridgar pulled out the 'big guns' and started to really rain blows on her, he realised something. She was matching him, blow for blow, punch for punch and at the level he was. What could that mean?

What it meant was that the pair of them were engaged in a frenzy. They were hitting and being hit, and just as he had determined that she would not get seriously harmed or dead from this fight, so too had she thought and felt the same for him. However, as time moved on and they fought and fought, more and more determinedly landing blows, it became apparent to Fridgar that he was outclassed. Not, perhaps, in strength, but in skill at combat, in endurance? Certainly. He was tiring before her and though they were both out of breath, he was worse. They were both battered and bruised, too.

And still, she smiled at him and, whoever she was, this woman was enjoying herself. As they fought, as he tired, she continued and did not push what advantage she had, instead she continued to simply enjoy the fight.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 3rd Ashan, 717

Finn sauntered his way home from the Crescent Arena, his mind still reeling from what he'd witnessed there. A blanket of quiet had been draped over the city, an anxious stillness lingered in the air. The shops were closing, the merchants packed up their things and prepared to head home.

"Hey you!"

Finn stopped with a scuff of his feet and slowly turned around. A round little man with small, pig-like eyes and scraggly hair made eye-contact and motioned for Finn to approach.

Shite, what've I done to him? Finn wondered, trying to remember if the man had been involved in one of his hijinks. Cautios and ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, Finn edged closer to the man who had just finished loading up a cart of barrels.

"Yeah?" he demanded, still weary.

"You quick on your feet?"

Finn offered a small shrug.

"Good." The man wiped his nose with his sleeve and fished a shiny copper nel out of his pocket and held it up like it was a diamond. "Wanna earn something?"

"What for like?"

"D'you know your way around here?"

"Like the inside of me pocket," Finn boasted, failing to mention that at least one of his pockets had a rather large hole in it.

The man gave an approving nod, and his double chin happily nodded too. "These here," he patted one of the barrels, "were meant for the Inn for Dinner."

"Mah'ludre's place, innit?"

The brewer nodded again. "The trouble is, I just had a special order come in from another customer who wants the same ale at a...uhm, special price."

Finn frowned at the man, unable to make the connection just yet.

The brewer waved his large, thick hand dismissively and said, "point is, you gotta tell Mah'ludre that his delivery of Crawshire ale is delayed. D'you think you can manage?"

"Course I can, I am not seven..." Knobhead.

Much to Finn's chagrin, the brewer seemed to find his reaction quite amusing and chuckled heartily before flipping him the coin which the boy caught with unusual expertise. Finn was about to dart of when he'd forgotten something.

"Who's the message from?"

"Gale. Now shoo laddie!" the brewer chuckled.

---

His heart drummed so loud in his chest by the time he arrived that he failed to hear the thuds and bangs from inside the inn. Wiping the sweat off his brow with one hand he pushed the door open with the other and stepped in-

A giant! The biggest, broadest tosser in all of Idalos was sent flying right towards him! Finn, narrowly side-stepped the bear-sized man with a shriek. Not that the foaming monster even noticed that he'd almost squished a wee little man. No. All the giant seemed to be focused on was a...woman?

Did she just? She couldn't have, right? Not a bloke that big and fat!

Finn soon snapped out of his amazement as a table was being flipped over to his right. For whatever reason almost half the patrons in the establishment were having a go at each other while the other half cowered in the corner or bolted upstairs. None however could match the violence or speed with which the woman and the bear battled. The two of them were throwing bone-breaking punches at each other, yet neither gave in.

Finn ducked as a chair sailed over his head. Mah'ludre was going to have a lot more to worry about than a late delivery it seemed. Where was the innkeeper anyway? He didn't know the Bijaq all that well, but well enough to know that the man was hard-working, certainly undeserving of having his place being torn to shreds!

There was only one thing for it. Careful not to step into any splinters or shards of glass, Finn bolted over to the bar, leapt atop it, picked up the nearest tumbler and tossed it right at the culprit: the oversized bulwark and the red-haired woman. His aim wasn't perfect, but it didn't need to be, all he needed was their attention.

"STOP IT!" he shouted at the top of his lungs before jumping down the bar again, "YOU"RE RUINING EVERYTHING!" What was the point of the fight anway? They didn't really seem intent on killing each other and from what he had seen so far, they seemed to match each other blow for blow.

OOC: let me know if the breaking up attempt is too much, I am happy to change it!

[Varthakh]

Fuck Fridgar thought to himself. She can handle the heat he came to the realisation when she didn't little more than flinch at his 'big guns'. Whoever this woman was, she was impressive for sure. His brain halted for a second - was she matching his speed? Holy shit! No, she was matching everything in his furious pummel! WHAT THE FUCK!? his expression turned worried as their blows collided with one another, sometimes even connecting fist to fist, knuckle to knuckle. She was solid.

The worry on his face turned to a toothy grin when Fridgar realised that at last, he'd found something to strive for. In Rynmere, no one had been able to stand up to him. People broke too easy, before he could even get into the fight people would die - this woman was something else. It almost felt as though he couldn't kill her, even if he was trying. That didn't quite mean he could bring out his claws and teeth, no. This was fist to fist. The fight dragged further and further out, even past the expenditure of his adrenaline.

Late fight, his body ached all over. It hurt to keep his arms up, and he was sweating from his brow into his eyes. His breathing had turned heavy and his lungs begged for rest, rest that would not come. His punches had too slowed down and he found himself unable to exert anywhere near the force he was punching at before. "Give up!" he muttered with a heavy swing. "You can't... beat me... lady!" The Lotharro spoke between punches and breaths, a blatant lie, she was nowhere near as tired as he was.

By now, all eyes were on him and the red head, the rest had dropped their fights to watch the marvel of... a big sweaty guy trying to punch a small girl with red hair. Fridgar was nearing his limit, if he weren't already there. The sudden impact of a cup to his head finished him off and sent him stumbling before eventually falling onto his back, sprawled across the floor. All eyes looked to the boy that had thrown it with awe, some with fear. Meanwhile, any that still had their eyes on Fridgar would see him look to his left while catching his breath. trills would pass where he was motionless before his lips shifted "Lilly..."

His fist clenched suddenly. While nobody knew what was going through the giant's head when he pushed himself up, they sure as hell saw the fire in his eyes. This fight wasn't over, far from it. This was his second wind, and he was damn ready to spend it properly. it almost looked as though Fridgar were at full strength again for the trill he rushed forward and collided with the woman in red once more. For a a bit or so, he roared ferociously and threw fist after fist into the woman's gut.

Despite the boy's message, the tavern was in an uproar once more, cheering wildly as the fight continued - it wouldn't be much longer, though, and this was definitely going to hurt in the morning.

[Pegasus]

Fridgar's expression turned worried, the woman he was fighting grinned at him with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. She was enjoying herself and it was rare that she got the chance to have a good brawl. Especially with a mortal. So, when he demanded that she give up, Ilaren chuckled and did not respond with words, just landing a particularly solid punch in his stomach.

The cup, though, that was not sporting and, as Fridgar fell, the red haired woman turned and glared at the culprit. Irritating little boy, spoiling her fun and not only that, hurting her new friend. Finn saw the woman look at him and had the chance to recognise that she looked like she was really, really irritated at him before there was flash of light and an earsplitting sound, but only he saw the lightning or heard the sound. The spots in front of his eyes would pass after a few moments, the ringing in his ears would also do so.

However, as Fridgar jumped up and came back at her, Ilaren sighed. This had been a good fight, she considered, ducking underneath his swing and uppercutting him in the gut. She'd enjoyed it and as Fridgar's punch impacted on her, she considered that it was rare indeed. However, he was running out of breath and so, it seemed, was she. Or she seemed to be, perhaps, who knew. When it was appropriate to do so, she raised her hands in the air, just a little. "Enough," she laughed, wiping the blood from her lip and smiling at him. "A good fight. Well done."

The woman who had been pounding him and being pounded by him but moments before offered her hand to the Lotharro, to shake if he would do so.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 3rd Ashan, 717

Finn gawked as the giant came crashing down onto the floorboards. He almost expected the massive man to fall through the tortured woodwork and into the basement, such was the force of the collision. But the floor held and, so it seemed, did the bear's resolve. He caught only a glimpse of the red-haired woman. She didn't look happy. Bang! White light flashed before his eyes, a loud crack split his ears. Doubling over as though struck by lighning, Finn followed Fridgar's example and tumbled to the floor, though the impact was like a gentle patter compared to thunderous thud with which the fodderheard had collapsed.

By the time he recovered, the fight had ended for good it seemed. Catching his breath, Finn raised himself and shot a weary gaze at the woman. Was she a witch of sorts? Then he looked between her and the heaving colossus and slowly but surely, an awful, awful suspicion started to creep into his mind. Was she-? Could she be-?

Those few guests who were still standing were enthralled by the show, far too distracted to notice the mouse that tip-toed behind them to inspect some of the downed visitors. Nimble fingers slipped over their purses, and while he contemplated taking a few nels, he resisted the temptation and instead tied the shoelaces of one guest to those of the other. Eventually the semi-circle of guests would disperse, and when they would, they'd be falling over like dominos.

Before that happened however, Finn already pushed through the crowd and promptly took Ilaren's hand and shook it vigorously. "Pleased to meetcha an' all..." his eyes narrowed, "immortal...". No sooner than he'd uttered that damning word did he release her hand again, realizing that perhaps confronting the woman directly wasn't a great idea. At once he leapt out of her reach and hid behind Fridgar's massive frame.

[Varthakh]

To no one's surprise, the woman handled his sudden frenzy just fine, save for the solid punch he landed on her. It was such a good punch, in fact, that he cut her lip in the process - Well shit. He hadn't meant to draw blood, especially from the face. For that reason, and his overwhelming fatigue, he stopped mid-swing as she raised her hand. By the immortals - everything felt weak and exhausted. His back in particular felt the most tender, rolling his shoulders felt good. His opponent declared the fight over. "So... You surrender?" The boisterous Lotharen laughed, baring his fangs in a wide grin. Like hell, if this woman had wanted to she could have easily thrashed him, they both knew that.

He just quietly hoped Ilaren would forgive him for losing a fight he'd taken on in her name, against a girl and all. "Yeah, you too." He took her comparably small hand into his clawed paw and shook firmly, keeping eye contact. Shortly after, he was reminded that he'd lifted his eye patch and swiftly lowered it once more. The patrons of the bar were disappointed to say the least, they certainly wanted a definitive victor. But wanting and getting were two different things. This wasn't about reputation or renown, it was about fun. And Fridgar had a blast. "Where'd you learn to fight like that, lady?" he asked at last when he let go of her hand. "It's not every day that someone gives me a run for my nel, let alone takes hits like I was dishing and smiles." His smile widened and his eye settled on her in the same cocky manor it had prior to the fight.

While Fridgar's tongue was nowhere near as refined as the woman's, he still spoke proud and strong. He wiped the sweat from his brow into his sleeve as he spoke and recovered. The men watching the two looked about done with the discussion and turned to make their leave, only to trip in unison!? The spectacle definitely caught his eye, prompting him to turn and look as the men collapsed around him. Confused as all fuck, he barely reacted when some kid scampered over and spoke to the red headed woman. He did react, however, to the ratbag running to use him as a meatshield. He stopped and turned his upper half to get a look of the boy before looking to the woman again.

"What?" Fridgar's brow narrowed. He couldn't quite tell what they were talking about, but it had shaken up the boy. "You alright, kid?" Fridgar turned his head back slightly while maintaining eye contact with his ex-opponent. He didnt doubt that the boy had just said something rude, but he remained wary in case she were the transgressor. "Let me buy you a drink, miss. I insist!" He tried the formal tongue, it didn't fit him. How often was he going to get the chance to battle at his full potential? Very rarely. It wasn't likely that he'd find quite as much entertainment as he had tonight for some time, he could at least try to get the woman to stay a while longer. Perhaps she'd be willing to fight some more? Should she accept, she'd find that there was one table left whole in a sea of fallen men and broken furniture.

"What about you, kid? Want some orange juice or something?" he offered the boy with a smile, still mindful of the woman before him.

[Pegasus]

She laughed as Fridgar asked if she surrendered and she raised an eyebrow even as she laughed with him. "Don't push it, you." She seemed more amused than anything, though and as he took her hand in his, Fridgar felt something unlike he had ever felt before. "Rharne," she replied when he asked where she learned to fight like she did. Her eyes twinkled amusement in the answer for reasons which she did not tell him in the moment.

As their hands clasped together, what Fridgar felt was a surge of power, but it was focused on his arm. Should he look down he would see and feel the lightning mark on his forearm and as he felt it, so too he instinctively knew. He saw her for who she was and the Immortal he drank and brawled in the name of glanced at the table where she could sit and drink with him. But this was Etzos and the irritating boy seemed to have some idea of something.

When Finn moved and shook her hand, he would find that in fact the woman in front of him did not immediately let go. Instead, with a vice like grip she grabbed him and pulled him into what appeared to be a hug. Into his ear she whispered, a soft and yet ice cold voice. "Not the clever thing to do, is it boy? Irritating an Immortal. On thee I place my mark that I might see your deeds. Mend those ways, or my curse will grow." Then, she let him go and turned her attention back to Fridgar.

"Next time. Next time I see you, I'll let you buy me a drink." She clapped Fridgar on the shoulder and nodded her head. "Good fight. Keep up the good work. Watch this one, " she motioned to Finn. "He's getting himself into all sorts of trouble and needs a firm hand." And with that, she turned and left.

Off Topic

So, that's this done. Please both feel free to do a wrap up post each and then I'll do a review! NB: Both of your Prophets' Notes have been updated.