Jay was quick on her feet, being rather agile from her years of dancing...this was one girl who knew how to move. Double stepping back and widthdrawing her arm she would avoid getting too close. Able to stay just out of range...but never did her eyes leave him, seemingly devouring him mentaly, eager to push and prod to see just where is strengths were.
Casually straightening up and lifting her right hand, letting her fingers gently tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.
"Come on, play with me?"
It was more a statement than a question since both of them wanted it, needed it, and would have it. Right here in the bar even, well Jay always did like an audience.
Clenching both fists she would bring them up to overlap just infront of her chest, much like a boxers guard, left hand leading. Kicking outnwith her right foot she would 'ankletap' the bar stool before her out of the way, sending it sprawling across the bar floor...possibly upsetting the other patrons. But this brawler coudln't care less, she was finally getting some action, and ahe woild be damned if she wasn't going to enjoy every moment of it.
Gripping what he had left of his humanity before he indulged himself. Letting go as he exhaled he would dart forth closing the gap between the two with ease, His left hand coming across the bar top skimming its lacquered surface. His palm would connect with the pack of cigs he left on the bar where he would send it flying towards her direction. But from this action he would take lateral measures to cover every basis. His mind shifting from its instinctive current actions to his mental process.
He could see that she wanted it and begged for it. It was easy to oblige but to fulfill that urge that started this whole thing, well lets just say Hideo could come to bat. Once the cig pack went airborne, Hideo would pivot on his leading foot - his right as his weight was stopped at the toes. His torso tucked in a smooth fashion as he released an explosive jab to open up her defense. After being distracted by the cig pack of which his jab was timed perfectly to follow the reaction of the cig pack hitting or deflecting off of Jay.
His crimson optic fixating on her person, mainly on her upper torso considering that was going to give him the signal on how to react after his jab.
Countering was a very good skill to learn and judging by Jay's life experience meant she had that. Speed over strength he thought as she murmured the words hun
Quiet once entering the zone, the background drowned out by the sounds of exchanged blows and internal breathing, the occasional thought making an echoing reminder of what he was thinking over his physical reaction to his brawl.
Having never actually met Bishop, the young man had no way of knowing that this was he who stood before him now.
All the same, as Tzak jumped the bar and made his way over, the simply dressed youth squared his stance immediately; Hands clenching into meaty fists as both feet separated. Nothing passed between them...Except the hard looks of men who often let their bodies do the talking.
But, the oriental warrior had come here for a reason.
"Right...I was told to speak with a man named Tzak Bishop about employment. Some old dude, beard down to here, said 'The Ripper' was an acquaintance of his."
He accentuated the statement with a quick, concise, gesture of his arms; Designating a length for the facial hair he'd suggested in his easy Common. Roughly chest length, which was rare in today's world...
There was likely only one man with whom The Ripper would be familiar that possessed such a feature, and it was unlikely that the influential Gang-Boss had forgotten him so quickly. The real question would be, however...
Who was this guy, and why had Dithakar sent him here?
Dorobo smirked sharply, an ugly expression for a face so lined with worn skin and slight aging. So, this was Bishop. He had heard things about this guy, bloody and bloodier with every retelling. He was a freaking killer; something that Dorobo could both admire and look at from a distance. But what fun was distance? " Yea, Gimme something good. " was the semi giants only reply.
While he waited for Bishop to get on that, and ignoring more arriving company, Dorobo kept talking. Sorta. " I see there's a fight bein' held. I want in. " he said simply. It sounded almost like an order with how deep the mans voice rang, bit had just the tiny inch of voice that made it a request above anything else.
Having been strolling about scoping out the sights, the very much so human Leo would glance his piercing brown eyes up from the pamphlet he'd been handed only moments before turning into the main bar lobby. Still dressed in nothing more than heavy layered black pants with steel studded spikes laced around the trim, hung loosely about his tan sculpted abdominal muscles. The rest of his naked muscular upper torso revealing a history of violence scarred beneath the masculine hair, as the terrorist had little need of trying to keep his extraordinary physic presentable as he tested it mostly in situations that didn't involve spectators that weren't wearing some manner of badge trying to detain or kill him.
Leisurely carrying his athletic frame towards the bar, he'd note the others about with a detached acknowledgement. When it came to brawling, the better fighters often attempted to give themselves away outside of battle whether intentionally or not in a tactic to give some false sense of knowledge or inside on themselves that would set up for a game break opening if someone played too much into whatever they thought they knew outside of the fight. Leo did much the same thing to a passive degree, as his careless trouble making habits coupled with drug use and alcoholism wouldn't mark him as the sort to be very perceptive or calculative in the heat of a moment. Two qualities that had always given him the edge in escaping arrest, risky situations, and especially in any fight he'd ever gotten himself into.
Brandishing further this contradiction of conflicting mentalities, Leo would saunter his just over six foot frame to seat himself at the bar with the occasional interested nod at any of the fine young ladies he'd happened his sharp brown hue's over. Lifting on hand to sweep some of the long black strands of shaggy hair from his handsome feature's while adjusting in his seat, the confident brawler would bang one fist on the counter with some measure of force that would mock impatience in spite of the enjoyable smile curving on his less than perfect lips. Glancing about for someone that might be smoking, he'd aim to get himself a drink and something to toke on before attempting to mingle and potentially start his favorite indoor activity. Rioting.
Oh this was perfect, was it possible she had found a new toy? One that would no doubt take her over the edge to the point of no return. She knew he was not like Bishop, simply by how he held himself, which was why she needed to test him...first however she needed to deal with his attack. The packet of smokes came flying and her reaction was swift, she leaned to her left..eyes following him, he moved with purpose, an experienced brawler. A low growl of approval rumbled in her chest, the smile on her lips widening as her right arm moved forward then out, aiming to brush his jab aside so that it passed over her right shoulder. Her left hand shot forth in a short double jab. Careful not to over extend, her body shifting from right to left as she threw her weight into the jabs aimed at his nose/cheek.
Sliding her left foot forward and turning slightly to the corrisponding side, this would allow her to keep her balance for now, and keep them close togetherby refusing to give in any ground.
This woman was willing to give in, whether he was ready to or not, it was almost an animalistic drive that took over Jay. The fact that her heart was pounding, forcing blood through her body and fueling her heated desire, and on top of it all she had Cici and Bishop watching...leaving her no choice but to go all out. Plus she needed the exercise.
Interesting. As the young oriental male explained himself, Bishop's right arm instinctively reach over to his left elbow, grabbing it as he remembered what the monk did to his arm and leg in The Grand Tournament. Before now though, that same monk had become aqcuainted with Bishop and his brother, Pope [Elliot]. So if he met two of the top dogs of this lowly street gang, and he clearly wasn't the banger type so why would he send a young blood towards such an influence. No matter. A sly smirk crept on his face as he chuckled lightly.
"So the monk sent you...Heh. Have a seat bruh'. It don' take a genius to see you a fighter."
Turning his attention to Dorobo as he urged the other Asian to sit down. the first to fully inquire of The Beatdown. This pleased him. He would return to his beer and sip on it from the customer side of the counter. All the while raiding his form for his herb. It seems his previous blunt was lost in translation. And though he would share in the beginning to show someone how much they enjoyed it. He would shut them off cold turkey in the same hand, letting them know he sold the s**t.
"Tha's wha's up playa. Don' forget t' sign ya' name on the sheet at the end of the bar. Tha's my official roster."
If not before, it was now obvious that Bishop was new to the hosting a tournament game. More proof of being a fighter. ******** books.
Leonardo S. Tensatsu
Ah yes. the first man to arrive was demanding attention, like an elementary student. No worries. Today was a lax grand opening. Although two others encouraged not using the pit downstairs, he would let it be. It was Jay. Fetching the man a bottle of some off market moon shine and a double shot glass. He set it before the man. He could smoke when Bishop smoked. This thug didn't just hand his product out to nobody.
"Drink that s**t bruh'. Put some hair on ya' balls fo' sho'."
And here came the fireworks. This s**t hoepfully wouldn't last too long. All these other fighters itching to fight anything that moved. bishop's short temper added to the mix. Hell, chances were slim of nothing being ruined on day one, but it didn't bother him much. It would show everybody a bit of what the other was made up. Encouraging them to sign up for The Beatdown, and drawing in customers and more brawlers alike. This is why he failed to advertise. Because word of mouth was the strongest kind of just that. For now the two would be noticed but left to it. And if s**t began to heat up, one way or another, bishop would surely play a part. At least Cici wasn't being ******** with too much. Just dealing with the small array of women entering the club. Some old fashioned s**t. the women let the boys play as they gossip about any and all none sense.
OOC: Soon Ill make an OOC thread since someone asked for it.
Also, I am reaching out to Rock Fist to affiliate with us, as would I enjoy affiliated with Leo's Malevolence of Innocence.
I will also be hitting up Ebag about affiliating with The Yard as well. Let's keep up the action peeps, it's still day one.
thank you all for joining me.
She was fluid as she evaded the jab but it was to be expected. In response she delivered a concrete double jab, though unrecognizable at first the twitch of her left shoulder indicated Hideo needed to do something, So once his arm began retreating from the jab he would tuck his chin in the contours of his right shoulder so that the first jab would subsequently hit against his right shoulder, whatever followed up with that would most likely ricochet off the same shoulder as he placed his weight on his left foot, mainly the toes. His stance was staggered at this moment. Iris constricting on the point of contact as he controlled his breathing despite the overload of adrenaline and blood surged through his body. From this position his right arm would be making a looping hook to connect with the left side of her chin, starting from its lowest point from when he brought it back from his initial jab and bringing it in a looping ascension - masked under the movement of her double left jab. Timing was everything, including the counter so at the point of her retracting from her double jab, Jay would be faced with a sly right hook coming from an unusual position.
Hideo would be leaning back slightly to give the idea that he was distancing himself - rather he was being illusive so that his right hook would have a higher probability of connecting. That crimson optic falling on the target. His left arm hovered at 45 degree angle around his chin, so much that if he uncurled his digits they would caress his right shoulder. Weight still balanced on his left whilst his torso remained stiff. The flexing of his involved muscles expanded in explosive reaction. He wanted his punch to cause whiplash, so much that Jay would find herself in a deep dismal abyss without her eyes even closing completely. It was the actions of a primal fighter, but being able to have a sense of everything whilst in this primal rage was a gift, possibly advantageous over the normal brawler.
Silence between the two as they were engaged in something more than just a sport. Bone colliding with flesh, until first blood.
If the counter was successful - or not - Hideo would retract his right arm while equally transferring the weight from one foot to both giving him a leveled stance. His left still hovered in the same place as the digits began to uncurl. Where this fight would end up next was on Jay. Could she contend?
Lights fantastic to her dead black eyes, hidden behind a sash of white gossamer that allowed her to look around her but didn't allow the world to look back at her. To judge her, to see into her dead black eyes and in turn, feel that eerie shiver of something 'wrong' that crept up the spines of the non-assuming. She was a mere whisper of a girl, a child of eleven or twelve and her attire reflected her youth as well as projected a naive and innocent youth. The Twisted dressed her like their own little doll, polishing her up for this venture through Sigil.
With a clean pressed black lace skirt and white blouse, secured snug at her throat with a black silk bow, she was picture perfect. Stark white hair, silken and gleaming with health, was secured into a side ponytail where the ends were curled tightly so they bounced with each step she took. The sash about her eyes was so fine and clean a white, that it nearly blended into her porcelain skin. All blacks and whites, there were hardly any colors to her appearance. No bright pink settled upon her lips, no rosy tinge to her cheeks, just white. Bare feet traveled the littered ground of the alley that lead to the back door of the Club. Slender fingers reached for the handle, a happy giggle of pure pleasure at the vibrant colors of the graffiti about her, and she tugged the door open.
A door is a door.
Entrance. Exit. A pathway, a beacon, an invitation... Can you taste it child...
Into the Club walked the lamb among wolves it would seem, but this little lamb was the black sheep of the family. Behind her black eyes that were hidden by the gossamer, lurked three entities that bathed her mind in images. A reputation had not been earned here yet, or so she was aware, but she could taste it. Sound to color synesthesia turned the sounds about her into flashes and splotches of color in her mind. A shattering bottle splattered crimson into her vision and the gruff tones of male voices added deep and earthy browns mixed with bright golds and silvers. A shiver went down her spine, raising the fine hairs along her neck as she smiled from ear to ear and breathed in deeply.
As the fight continued to unfold, Bishop couldn't help but seclude himself to the far side of the bar, furthest from the customers for just a moment. He occasionally sipped his beer to empty as he went to work producing yet another blunt. Though this time he would keep up with it. He wasn't a fan of scavengers, but he would oblige his company for a short while. His prices were decent for how potent the product was. Nobody could compete with the dealers cheap and loud bud. This time around, the cigarillo he used was a Blueberry Swisher. As he completed and pearled the blunt, he retrieved another drink, popping the cap from the glass bottle effortlessly. Igniting the far in of the blunt, he took a reassuring drag, inhaling deeply before taking a healthy swig of the beer. Exhaling slowly after, he almost didn't notice his next customer. she slipped in incredibly quiet, and seemingly from nowhere. Her clothing and demeanor fed the feeling that she could very well be a strange apperition. Perhaps his last LSD trip had been rolling back into effect?
He set the beer down and approach the crowd again as he got to the end of the bar closest to the door. At this point he would look at the girl, still unsure of if she was here. Though after a few blinks he was sure she was real. Still kind of creepy, though still cute as hell. this thug did always have a soft spot for children. Unless they show potential of being too far gone already. Speaking out to the girl, he attempted to get her close enough to converse to figure out if she was lost or some s**t. Maybe one of the patrons here was her daddy or some s**t like that.
"Hello lit'l gurl...Are you lost?"
Despite his strong Russian accent and his Engrish he was sure the girl could find the sincerity in his voice. He meant her no harm, and if anyone of the others in this bar endangered her, he would more than likely bash their skull in with his mace. Nobody ******** with the kids.
The petite bovine girl stepped forward into the club at the welcome of the blonde woman at the bar counter, but recoiled when two people at the bar, a man and another blonde woman, began exchanging blows. She was about to duck back outside, but stopped. Something was off... Their fighting... It almost seemed... playful. And they were smiling.
There were still a ton of red flags going off in her head. She was an herbivore and descended from animals of prey. She was naturally going to lean more towards flight over fight at the slightest sign of danger. But she came here for a reason.
She was down to her last hundred Gold. She needed this job, badly.
So, with caution and tense muscles, she made her slow journey to the bar counter, all the time eyeing the two locked in playful combat. So tense and focused she was, when a bottle rolled to the floor and shattered, she jumped almost half her height.
Hand reaching to her heart, she panted a little, sweat forming all over her body. Was this really the right place for her? Should she really be asking for a job here? Ohhhh... She had to. She needed a job and a place to live. It's not easy when you first come to Sigil and the first thing that happens to you is you get scammed out of everything you own save for the clothes on your back. Her spare clothes, all but a bit of her money, and even her beloved ball and chain, the fondly-named Demolitioner. She needed this job... and if it meant being afraid for her life all day, she would have to make due.
Finally reaching the counter, the bovine girl pulled herself onto a stool in front of the blonde woman. She sat with her legs closed tightly together, hands clasped neatly in her lap. It was a very demure and lady-like pose.
She swallowed hard, opening her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a soft squeak. All this tension in the club... people itching to fight and willing to take any excuse to do so. It was driving her prey instincts crazy.
"Um... I'm... I'm U-Ushiko. Ushiko Touka... m-ma'am. I was..." She swallowed hard, hoping to gain a bit of moisture to her dry mouth. "I was hoping Mr. Bishop could give me a job? I... I heard this place was new, and needed e-employees. Um... I'm an excellent cook. My food even has special properties. I can bartend and clean, too."
Special properties, indeed. Boosts to speed or strength, light healing, her cooking skills were unique and versatile. But she'd take any position there. She just needed a job.
Though, she didn't tell Cici that. Rule one of a job interview. Never beg or try to sell yourself with some sob story. Even if the sob story really was completely true...
But her eyes told a story that words didn't need to. Big and doe-like. Deep blue and soft. Near tears, actually. Her lip was even trembling a little, though she wasn't aware of it. For the life of her, she couldn't put on a poker face no matter how hard she tried. Her cow-like ears were even drooping and her bovine tail was between her legs.
So, that was it. She left her fate in Cici's hands.
Location: Bar Mood: Nervous Thinking: I really need this job... I can't go back to Labyrinth City... Wearing: Pictured
The dark elf could only smirk at all that was going on. People were showing up out of the woodworks for this place. But why, though? She had no idea. Just found this place on her ride through Sigil, saw it was the grand opening, and figured she'd stop in. A lot of these people looked like fighters, tall and muscled mostly, and she couldn't figure out what was drawing them here...
That was a lie.
She was fully aware that there was going to be a fighting tournament here called "the Beatdown." She'd heard it from one of many people on the streets of Sigil. However, discretion was a crucial element to a fighting tournament.
She could only snicker at the two by the bar fighting before the matches began. They were just going to give away the secrets of their moves before it came down to fight for the prize. She, however, was more subtle than she looked.
If she led everyone to believe she just rolled into town and stumbled upon this tournament, she would have underestimation on her side. She was a woman, thin yet curvacious, a member of a fairly physically weak and nocturnal race, not wearing any armor, and was carrying two weapons, which of course weren't going to be allowed in the matches, leading most to believe she had no hand-to-hand experience. She had surprise on her side.
Or, so she thought.
She was the worst actress ever. It would no doubt be obvious to all that she was putting on a ruse. She was just overconfident in her acting abilities.
Or, was she?
Her movements carried no control in them. No coordination. She walked and moved like she had no formal martial arts training, as if she relied only on instinct and physical ability to fight.
But was this part of her act as well?
She listened to Bishop inform the customer about the Beatdown, sipping her cola, but perking up as if just picking up what they were saying.
"What's that? A tournament? You don't say? Might as well sign up. I could use some fun."
So, she sauntered over to the sign-up sheet, grabbing the pen and scrawling her name onto it.
"Hope you boys go easy on me! I've never fought without my maces before..." she exclaimed, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear her.
Turning around and leaning back on the counter, she returned to sipping her cola.
Location: Bar Mood: Smug Thinking: "Heh heh heh..." Wearing: Pictured
He couldn't help but overhear the first proclamation, from Tzak's own lips, followed by the boisterous claims of the lithe Fae woman near the bar.
So, the stories were true; The Beatdown was happening afterall.
Having decided to make this walk, despite having no idea who that 'Monk' was...or why, out of everyone in the bar, he'd been singled out. Maybe it was his simple manner, or the worn nature of his shoes. Compared to the cast of players here tonight, he was easily the most common by appearance.
Even if that, by definition, made him all the more uncommon.
He'd afford Bishop a nod, which the fast retreating gangster probably wouldn't notice, and joined the loud elf at the signup sheet. Offering it only the briefest formality of a glance before reaching out with his right hand, collecting the pen, and commiting himself to the brawl.
Content with that, Eric would turn to regard the bluish woman who still stood nearby; His fierce golden-brown gaze washing her down from head to toe. The young man didn't smile, nor was he frowning, instead...It seemed more as though he might be calculating something.
Not quite so deep in thought as to forget his manners.
"Pardon me, Ma'am...I do not mean to stare."
It was obviously far from the truth, but if she had the gall to so blatently lie about her skill then he saw no need to be entirely honest in turn. He wasn't the most heavily muscled individual himself, but he was strong where it counted...The mass he needed having been built into his naturally compact form.
She was no different.
[!] ~”…Stronger than steel.”~[!]
[[Disclaimer :: I'll be posting from my phone all night, so expect some mistakes. pirate]]