Moonsilver, the pale-feathered raven arrives, following Raven.

Calluna, A Young Highhill Mastiff arrives, following Drake.

Kiko, a Kite of the Cloudspine, Hickory, the Deerhound, Russel, a Blackram Retainer, 1 House Lyonesse Adept Guards arrive, following Cahal.

Calluna, A Young Highhill Mastiff have been dismissed.

The the weather is cool this autumn evening, the Brawl Royale is still held outside on the Eswynd grounds. Braziers have been arranged along the path and around the training yard - where the fight is to take place - to provide extra light and warmth to the guests. A spit has been tended nearly all day with a whole pig roasting near a table laden with turreens of stew with bowls, platters of roast potatoes and mushrooms with whole cloves of garlic, pumpkin bread and cinnamon butter, apple-walnut cake, and lots and lots of booze. Some of the Eswynd guard are in the training yard warming up while Medeia checks over last minute preperations - adjusting a fur draped over one of the benches for spectator comfort. As guests begin to arrive, she smiles brightly. "Hello! I'm so glad you could make it! Come, eat, drink, fight!"

Hands in pockets, Giada walks into the room and over to Medeia. "Lady Eswynd," she greets. "I understand there's to be entertainment tonight." She looks over at the roped off area, an odd little smile on her lips. "How are you feeling? Steady improvement, I hope?" Now green eyes flick back to Medeia, studying her features.

Medeia's protege is near her, following along and making little last-minute touches here and there, things that doubtless only a Whisper or courtier of equal finesse would be able to see. Also, holding her drink and his own, and making sure she doesn't lift anything too heavy. "Good evening, everyone!" Cesare calls. "Try the pumpkin bread - it's just the season. A hot toddy and a stomach full of bread and you'll be full of fuel to slap each other about." Or to pass out by the fire. Either way.


"My lady Eswynd."

Piccola arrives with her usual lack of entourage and fanfare. After making her greeting, and giving a gracious bow, she wanders over to where the rules are posted. Blink. She sighs, and then begins to set her weapons aside. Bow and quiver? Down on a seat. Dagger? Set down on the quiver. Sabre? Slung on the back. Dusters? Dropped on the ground nearby. "I feel fucking naked," she mutters to herself before wandering to where the whiskey is. She stares at the array, sighs again, and sums up her predicament.

"Fuck."



Thea comes stepping into the hall, quite familiar by now. She surrounded by Strawberry and Finn, and of course Rocco. The Countess is dressed in---a long gown, her stomach rounded. No hiding it now. Clearly she isn't participating. Stepping to Medeia, Thea smiles a moment. "Hey Deia. What's this about bread,"ignoring the alcohol part. This said to Cesare. "Hey general,"she greets Piccola with a nod of her head. There's another slight smile to Giada as she passes by.

Drake came to the event along with Thea. The last time he did a brawl, he didn't do so well, but that was a more informally organized affair to say the least. He doesn't mind a little unarmed combat but knows he needs to get some more practice in if he's going to win such an affair. He makes sure the dog isn't trying to get involved, giving Thea a sympathetic look as she only asks about food.

Flanked by guards, a stoic looking Thrax princess walks into the walled courtyard. Dressed perhaps appropriately or ironically, she wears a steelsilk gown that is designed to allow movement and a collection of weapons adorning her fragile frame. Denica's eyes are cold and focused, her hands restless at her sides. It is a festive occasion, and so as she takes the first steps, heels pressed into the soft grass, a smile is placed practiced on her features. It's wide and welcoming, but it never quite reaches intense eyes. Denica sees the crowd gathered, but in her approach, she stops strategically to voice appreciation to the host. "Lady Eswynd, what a lovely event, I am so glad I could make it," Denica speaks enthusiastically. It's a short exchange, and then she leaves the no doubt busy host, in favour of others that she catches in her sight. Primarily Thea, who gets an immediate wave, but her greeting extends broadly to those she knows, as does not.

Piccola checks composure at normal. Piccola marginally fails.

"Blessed Giada, welcome," Medeia says, giving the archlector a warm smile. "Yes, I have all my energy back, which is a mixed blessing. I still haven't gotten the stitches out." A small gesture is made toward Cesare. "I have a nanny, I'll be alright." She winks at her protege before turning to greet Piccola. "I won't stop you from fighting naked, if you prefer. If you feel naked, you might as well /be/ naked, no?" Lycenes. Can't take them anywhere. "Thea! Finn, Strawberry, Butterpup is over there, go play!" She gives Drake a nod. "Drake, good to see you both. Princess Denica," Her eyes move to the Thrax woman with a flicker of concern. "Here to /watch/, I presume?" Finally satisfied that she can't adjust anything else, she steps beside Cesare to collect her drink and stay close. Giada or Thea might yell at her otherwise.


Piccola turns around when she hears her chosen title.

For a moment, her green eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Holy shit." She puts a hand over her mouth for a second. "I'm sorry, m'lady Wyvernheart. You caught me off-guard." Her expression is wry but warm, something which twists into something wicked as another thought comes to her. "Shit, Drake, you're clearly letting your wife go: she's developing a bit of a beer gut, it looks like."

She grins from ear to ear at the two of them.



Raven strides in, sans any entourage and only wearing a steelsilk scarf over her head but otherwise she seems far more casually dressed than others who've arrived. She fingerwaves here and there as she recognizes faces in the crowd.

Giada's eyebrows arch at something she hears or sees, but it's soon back to Medeia with a grin. "I'll come check on you later then. Going to wander about and I'll circle back." She gently touches the Lady's arm and walks off. Spotting Raven, she detours in that direction, muttering something with a smirk to the other woman.

A far cry from what tends to attend noble events, Wagner looks every part the Ulbran from the scuffs on his boots to the jarring metal at his brow. A nod is given to the host as he enters, some form of propierty at least, but for the most part the man remains quiet and scans a few nearby with his pale gaze.

"Yes, things have been a little too lazy for us," Drake confesses, going along with Piccola's joke. He gives Princess Denica a smile, and then one to Medeia. "You always organize the most interesting events. My thanks for the party invitation, even if Thea isn't going to be drinking tonight."

Thea eyes Piccola a moment. She knows she's joking. Really! But her eyebrow lifts a moment before huffing at the general,"You wait until the baby comes out, General. I'll be kicking your ass." All in fun! And hormones! There's a wave to Denica as well, spying her princess friend before she goes and grab some friend. "In the mean time, everyone just drink more for me. Please,"looking to Drake too. Seeing Wagner and Raven, Thea gives them both a nod and slight smile.

3 Thrax Guards have been dismissed.

an ostentatious curator named Sivas have been dismissed.

1 Thrax Elite Guards have been dismissed.

a reserved assistant named Stojan have been dismissed.

Raven comes to a stop nearby Giada when the Archlector wander close enough to murmur to her. Raven cocks an eyebrow dubiously, "Then learn how to fight."

Giada shrugs. "One day."


"Don't do me any favors," replies Piccola to Thea.

It's clear she's here to fight. She's angling for it. Even if the attendant, with some exasperation, has brought a tea cup and saucer for her. No grog? No grog. Just tea, apparently. //Someone// has been spending too much time with Oathlanders. Anyhow, the General withdraws, and turns to where she left her things. There, she sits, sips her tea, and awaits her name to be called, quietly, calmly, and alone.

It suits her.



"Yes, here to watch," she confirms with Medeia with a flash of a smile, "can't say I've done much hand-to-hand combat," she murmurs with a small shrug of her dainty shoulders. "I do see the appeal and I am rather eager to see it unfold". It's an event and so there must be drinks, but Denica's assistant Stojan is already on it, walking off to the table most likely to provide the princess and her staff with refreshment. Denica offers a smile in response to Drake, though her eyes nearly bug out when she hears Piccola's comment about Thea's beer belly. She tries not to laugh, but a little snicker comes out. Rather, she walks over to where her friend stands, so she lean in and whisper something to her. Eyes drift and she sees Cesare in the mix, dipping her head politely in his direction.

Wagner squints for a moment until recognition dawns on him and Thea is given a gruff, "Hello." and nod alongside it. Such a way with words, this one. "Not stabbin' me today?"

Cesare is not hovering, excuse you. He is here to hopefully watch someone(s) with more muscles than him take their shirt off and whack each other with their fists. He offers a polite half-bow to Denica, and a finger wiggle of hello, and makes sure to walk in that direction to offer a quick aside. And some pumpkin bread. Cesare is notably not one for sweets, he's told probably everyone this by now, but the pumpkin bread is very good.

Medeia waves to Raven when she sees the woman, but then her eyes widen in surprise. "Wagner Ulbran!" Surprised, but not unwelcoming. "How kind of you to grace this 'fancy fuck' with your presence." There's amusement in her voice as she addresses the man, waving him toward the food and drink. "Help yourself as you like. All are welcome here." The lady was - luckily - not taking a sip from her drink when Piccola accused Thea of having a beer belly, her laughter slipping past her lips and causing her to gasp in pain from jostling her injury. "Owwww." It's a low whine. "If any of you are participating, please let Loryk know so he can round you up once the fight is set to begin!" The Prodigal man lifts an arm from the rail of the training yard to indicate himself.

Giada checks perception at normal. Giada is successful.

Giada's head lifts. "Sec," she tells Raven, walking back towards Medeia. "What'd you do?" she asks, shifting a shoulder so that her satchel swings in front instead of beside."


It's probably reasonable to presume that Loryk knows that Piccola's fighting; that is usually why she appears at these shindigs.



Thea winks at Wagner. "Not today I'm afraid. As much as I'd love to stab you, or even in this case---TRY to kick your ass, I'll be sitting this out for a bit." She directs him to Drake, amused. "I'll leave that to my husband this evening." Hearing Medeia laugh, Thea eyes her as well. "I'm keeping a list, you two,"she tells her and Piccola. "And it won't be a favor. It will be a pleasure. I assure you."

Raven's eyebrows lift at the surprised greeting from the hostess, head swivelling and noting the aged gent with an idle tilt of her head. Medeia's indication of pain gets brief glance but she moves over towards Lord Loryk to indicate her interest in participating.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

One thick, dark eyebrow raises ever so slightly when Cesare whispers something to her. Denica shows nothing further on her features. A smile flashes as though as though engaging in polite conversation and she whispers something to Cesare, receiving a drink from Stojan as he walks by handing it off. Holding the glass in her hand, she turns her attention back to the gathered group, seeming interested in watching the evenings festivities unfold.

"I wanted to punch some shit." Wagner answers Medeia with a smirk escaping, only helping to accent the scar on his upper lip. It appears in good humor as his deep rumbling bass of laughter follows. "Not goin' to be like t'ones in t'Hollow and a few decades back, but its time I stretch muscles again, hm? Happy either way it goes." To Thea he simply arches his pierced brow. "Get in line for the stabbing part, but congrats all the same for the others." With a nod he then makes his way over to Loryk to add his name to the list of contestants.

Giada makes sure that Medeia hasn't ripped a stitch open and then drops her bag. "Oh why not," says the Archlector, walking over to the training ring. This one is clearly not a brawler, but at least she doesn't have long nails to break.

Raimon has been waiting quietly in the fighting yard. He's taken off about half of his armor, and all of the sheet metal. It'd be rude to expect people to punch high quality steel, that's just absurd. Friendly bout, not a knuckle breaking festival

"Just laughed," Medeia reassures Giada. Having your back torn open isn't ideal, but she didn't worsen her injury. Loryk begins taking names and rounding everyone up. The lady finds a seat on a close bench after collecting some of the apple cake to go with her drink. "Good luck, everyone! Remember, a prize of 25000 silver to the last one standing!"

Raven strides into the center of the fighting space, clearly more than ready to start hitting people. Her shoulders roll and her fists lift, one foot back one foot foreward same with her shoulder to match. When Giada steps out she grimaces, "Aw, C'mon, you can't be serious. People'll think I'm a damned bully if I mess up your dainty damned face!"

Drake gets into the arena and gets ready for the rumble. He's got a bit of leather on, which might protec him from several blows but also might lead to him sweating out a bit, so it's a mixed blessing in his case. He seems surprised Giada is getting involved but doesn't want to count anyone out. Still, free for alls can be surprising, so he's trying to watch his back.

Thea takes a bite of her bread before wiggling her fingers at Drake. "Good luck,"she tells him with a chuckle. Food before husband right now. HA. She's pretty content standing next to Denica right now. Well...other than the envious look at the fighting and booze. "Thank you Messere Wagner,"and then her eyes drift to watch the fight.

Cesare's turned his attention toward the ring, but he's still speaking quietly to Denica. A nod to her, and then a slow blink at whatever she says. He takes a long swallow of his drink and nods again. Not surprised, precisely, but...disappointed? It's hard to tell. Whispers and their faces. "This should be interesting," he says, more audibly, to everyone gathered to watch.

Giada just tosses a bright, cheery smile at Raven. "Just don't break anything, and we'll be good. Shattered cheekbones are a bitch to heal." She shrugs and eyes Raven's stance as if trying to mimic it. Because that's what you do when you're in a fight and can't fight.


Into the fray goes the General -- gleefully.

(And, yes, she goes for Drake first because, like, it's Drake.)



Raven sighs, "You get what you get, woman. That's how fights work." And with that and no little exasperation she swings on Giada.

Denica stands between Thea and Cesare, and while she is whispering with the Whisper, her attention also rests with the Countess. Denica keeps an eye on her, while Drake is busy in the ring, her gaze drifts to the ring and the contenders. Denica takes a moment to size each one of them up, no doubt taking mental bets on who might be the last one standing. There is plenty of excitement, and so the Thrax sips her drink and takes it all in, despite the somewhat distant look in her eyes.

Seeing as how the others have paired off, and having no dog in this fight other than...save himself, Wagner just chooses his opponent as a means of who is left. He shoots Raimon a cheshire's smile and beckons him forward, the aged pugilist sinking into a defensive stance with fists raised.

Thea leans against Denica, murmuring,"Bets Drake's shirt comes off,"a grin appearing. Only because she KNOWS how he gets. There's a look at Cesare as well. "Probably,"as she finished off her slice of bread. "You're right. This was delicious."

It's possible that Cesare looks vaguely disappointed that nobody is spouting blood from any of their orifices yet. "Come ON," he bellows. "Somebody kick somebody right in the crotch! Use your nails! Bite them!" His voice is...exceptionally loud when he wants it to be. "I would offer a kiss to the winner, or something, but I don't think that would be much of a prize."

"Sounds fair to me," Giada agrees with Raven. Her swing is definitely testing, but she does manage to wiggle just enough that the first hit glances off her shoulder rather than off her nose. It's at that point that instinct kicks in and the woman starts to slip into a more defensive stance. Another punch. Another. Somehow. SOMEHOW. Somehow, the woman is still up, managing to withstand the hits with a valliant effort, and the yelping squawk when Raven's fist hits Giada's ear has the woman removing her archlector's coat and tossing it to the side.

"That should speed things up a bit," she says, rubbing at her ear before just flat out trying to tackle her opponent.

This could be bad.

Raven siiighs and points a hand towards the benches, "Go sit down before you get hurt and I have your weird, creepy, silent man slave plotting my demise. Go! Sit!" She demands and when it becomes apparent Giada's not, she sighs and swings again.

Giada stops dead in her tracks. "Blackheart," she says, her voice oddly cool. "I keep no slaves."

Giada still swings, though.

Medeia watches the fight as it begins, sipping her wine quietly. She doesn't comment on the fact that it looks like a dance. Wagner might not like that. She tips her head at an exchange between Raven and Giada, lips pressing thin.

Raven sighs, "Beg pardon. Manservant. Your silent manshadow. Whatever. I hurt your feelings? HIT me already."

Giada grumps. "It would help if you stood still."


Oh, sure. No one cares that Drake and Piccola are fighting, right? Because ... well, that's what Drake and Piccola do. They fight. All the time. Because they like it. At least, the General does. She's taken at least five punches solidly, but keeps on swinging back, undeterred, and savage AF. Is -- is she grinning? Yes. Yes, she is.



Samira arrives just in time to overhear Cesare's bellowed encouragement, which happens to be just the sort of advice of which the Lowers resident tends to approve. She instantly turns attention to the brawlers, voice projected to offer exuberant coaching although she manages to remember she's in relatively polite company midway through: "YEAH! KICK THEIR FUC- uhhh, get 'em!"

An amused smile forms on Denica's features as she hears shouts for more violence from Cesare. Lifting her drink to her lips, she takes a sip, her eyes focused on the fight. "Looks more like a tea party to me," she says to Cesare, loud enough for the combatants to hear. All in good jest, of course!

Drake squares up with Piccola when he sees the challenge inherent. It's not, perhaps, the most tactically sound choice in a free for all, but it's hard for him to back down from a challenge. He also seems, despite his Oathlands chivilry, that if a woman challenges him he's not going to pull any of his punches. But he's also just not hitting her particularly hard, due more to her skill in evasion compared to the speed of his fists.

Clowder of nine 1-year old cats, Shekies, Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell arrive, following Zakhar.

Thea gives Samira an amused smirk. "Fucking ass is about right,"grinning a bit with another plate of some sort of food. Likely fruit. She cheers for Drake though, shaking her head briefly. "I know you can hit harder than THAT,"Thea calls out.

Giada takes a good smack that time. There's gonna be a bruise, but the woman laughs as she shakes out the pummelled arm. "Oh, you sneak," she playfully accuses Raven. "It's getting hard to lift."

"Samira!

Denica sees Samira and her lips curl into a smile, she gives the other woman an immediate wave. Another sip of her drink and Denica is offering more of her own commentary. "I thought the whole point of hand-to-hand combat was to hit something?," mirth flickers in her eyes. Despite the being part of the peanut-gallery, she does a one-handed clap of encouragement for all the combatants.

"Samira!" Medeia brightens when she hears her friend. "Hi! I heard you came to check on me. Thanks." She lifts her drink in greeting. "There's food, and drink, and people to cheer on. Speaking of..." She scans the fight, giving a nod. "Piccola! FIGHT HARDER!"

The old man wanders in past the guards without yelling at them, takes a look at those that are in a brawl and lightly smirks. Then wandering slowly further out to the courtyard stepping through any that are in the middle of fighting. His bone cane unfolded and being used to guide his way through the crowd.

Cesare is getting aggravated by the lack of damage. He looks like he might throw his beverage. Except obviously he would never, his manners are much too good. "STOP TRYING TO GET OUT OF EACH OTHER'S WAYS SO MUCH AND ACTUALLY FOCUS ON HITTING SOMETHING," he shouts. Haakon would be proud, if only he was here to hear all this bellowing. "It's A FIGHT, NOT A TEA PARTY."

Medeia motions for Zakhar to join her when she spots him. But he's welcome to help himself to the food first, if he prefers.

"That. Yeah. Exactly," Samira calls to Thea, lips curved in an answering smirk. She waves to Denica, appearing genuinely pleased to spot the woman amongst the crowd of spectators. "Ugh. Is everyone intent upon being polite? Should've made them trade insults beforehand, Deia, maybe that would've made things more lively," she notes to the Eswynd noblewoman, greeting her with a bump of her hip. "Glad to see you back on your feet. You're looking far better than you were."

Raven is wearing a deeply exasperated look as she keeps smacking and now finally punching Giada. A box to an ear. A backhand to a cheek. A fist to the woman's gut, "Go. Sit. DOWN!" She demands in an ill tempered snarl.

HEY! Giada's out there getting smacked down bit by bit Raven's fist. "Hsssss." That one hits her jaw, deflected only by a lucky backwards stumble. She's an absolutely horrible fighter, a terrible horrible no good awful fighter, but she's sticking in there. She doesn't respond loudly but murmurs something instead.

Zakhar has joined the intricately carved wooden benches.

OH HO! Giada gets one in! It's utterly useless, but she shockingly does manage to smack Raven right across the cheek.

Raven jerks her head back with a startled grunt, eyebrows shoot up, "Well done! See? If you /trained/ you could be giving me what for!"

Giada beams, so proud.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

"I'll get around to it, I swear," Giada tells Raven. She's definitely feeling the hits more without her coat on, and it's slowing the woman down. "I've got a defense to mount first, though. Ooff." Another hit to her gut leaves Giada struggling to drag in a breath for a second. She doesn't go down, though, and she's still fighting like ...someone who doesn't fight but who is -determined-.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Giada is marginally successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

Denica is overheard praising Medeia: Blood and booze, the Lady knows how to throw a party!

Drake takes the vest off - of course he does, Thea has him right - and finally after doing so, he gets a shot to the gut that makes him wince. He's sweating at this point, so he has to choose between leaving the shirt on or having less armor, and he goes for the second choice, even if it will end up hurting him in the end if he takes another good punch.

The old man bores of the fight and heads over to speak with Medeia.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

"Cesare, it may actually be a tea party." Medeia presses her lips thin as she watches the fight continue. "Haakon would be so disappointd with me for throwing a tea party." She then smiles up at Samira. "I still have a few weeks until I'm properly mended, I suspect. The stitches need a few more days, at least. But I'm feeling considerably better." As Zakhar joins her, she makes space on the bench for him. "Glad to see you came."

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Critical Success! Giada is spectacularly successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

Thea snorts the moment Drake's vest comes up. "Called it!" She watches Giada, eyebrow lifted. "How--is she still standing,"her gold-flecked green eyes flicking to Raven.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Raimon before departing.

That? That punch should have dropped Giada.

However, when she regains her balance, she just wipes the blood off her chin from a split lip. "Okay, that was a good one," she says, clearly winded. "Just... gimme a sec. Hang on." Big, deep breath... and she heads back in.

Raven pauses and pffffft hair which has escaped her braid to dangle in her face. She's not winded though she's been trying to encourage Giada to go sit down with stinging strikes and smacks but is too afraid to properly follow through given the woman's academic profession. She snorts, "At this rate you may wear me out before I knock you down. What in all that's holy do you puyt in your tea?!"

Giada says, "Spit and vinegar?"

Finn the large Northern hunting dog with icy blue eyes, Rocco, the rascally assistant, Strawberry Pupcake, the Graypeak Mountain Dog leave, following Thea.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at daunting. Giada is successful.

Giada remains capable of fighting.

The fight lasts a couple drinks, and Denica's is returned back full each time she empties it. Yelling commentary with the crowd, she leans into the moment, enjoying the spirit of it. A small smile forms on her lips, silent but present, she starts clapping and cheering on the participants. It is obvious she has no favourites, rather she is enthused by their efforts and skill.

Maybe it's stubbornness. Maybe it's grit. Maybe it's luck or divine intervention. Whatever the reason, Blessed Giada, the Archlector of Tehom, will. not. sit. down. Her hands are ineffective, mostly just tired swats; it seems that most of her effort is going into almost cheerfully taking one hell of a smack down. "Gods, OW, Raven! Stop hitting my ear!" Swing.

Giada checks 'unconsciousness save' at daunting. Giada fails.

Giada is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Cesare is on probably his fourth or fifth drink at this point and is sitting next to Medeia with his head leaning against her shoulder. He shifts away, thoughtfully, to call, "Take your shirt off!" To someone. Nobody in particular. Everyone. Everyone take your shirt off!

Medeia lets her head tilt against Cesare's. "I'll have Loryk see you home, when the time comes," she quietly assures him. She looks up when he shouts. "What he said!"

Raven siiighs, "I'm gonna go fight someone I don't feel guilty for hitting." She pivots and slams an elbow into Giada's solarplexus. She Doesn't let Giada fall but walks her to the edge of the ring, "Go. Sit." She eases Giada down and then scans those left fighting and with a purse of lips. She rolls her shoulders, examines her hands and then strolls back, circling around and then spotting Raimon who looks relatively spry still.

Clearly Medeia never witnessed the night that Cesare drank eight glasses of wine and walked home with barely a swing in his step. He's fine, Medeia. He's fine. He'd be yelling at people to take their shirts off by this point regardless. If only there were /tridents/ this time.


Fine.

Piccola is heavily-cloaked, but is clearly losing some of her steam. As if so timed, the General takes a brief second away from trading blows with Drake to unclasp her cloak and toss it away. That's still a lot of leather that she wears for now, but, at least this way, she'll be weighed down less by something that's better-suited for winter weather than a dragged-out fistfight.

More encouragement may lead to more nudity.



Drake looks aside as Giada, who was quite determined, is finally counted out. He has to focus on his bout with Piccola, but that does mean another combantant in the ring is no longer paired off. Something to watch his back for.

And there it is. Mighty Casey has struck out.

Giada starts to crumple like a deck of cards, but Raven keeps her upright. There's a weak chuckle and a wordless nod. She knows she's out of steam. She sits as bid, bracing her back with a wheezy, pitiable 'hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh' of a groan. But she's still grinning as she lets the healers patch up her scrapes and cuts. "Lady Eswynd," the priestess says, still out of breath, "would you yell something at Raven to tell her not to screw up her lead, please?"

Denica cheers for Giada, "what an incredibly effort!," she exclaims, seeing how long the woman lasted, before finally she goes down. After the burst of enthusiasm and encouragement, she is watching intently again, watching the movements, and interactions. Taking in how it all unfolds, the details, the footing, the way everyone is positioned both fighting and not. She observes, but also, she experiences it. The glass is slow to find her lips, taking pause from time to time. Her guards nearby, they also half-watch the fight, it's hard not to get into the excitement.

Zakhar has left the intricately carved wooden benches.

Clowder of nine 1-year old cats have been dismissed.

Shekies have been dismissed.

Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell have been dismissed.

"I'm glad. I know how tough you are, but still." Samira shrugs at Medeia, a silent admission of her worry for her friend. She's quick to return attention to the brawl, however, offering occasional shouts of encouragement or commentary. "Tough group," she notes approvingly, but her enjoyment of the fight is short-lived. A Culler tough weaves his way through the gathering, mouthing something at Samira once he's managed to catch her eye. Grumbling under her breath, she murmurs a few farewells to those around her and heads toward the exit, all while calling after the other Culler, "What d'you /mean/ by 'there's a problem'?"

"Raven, fight more!" Medeia is pretty sure that wasn't helpful. Her attention ges to Samira, giving her a warm smile. "Thank you for coming up tonight." She gives a small wave before leaning back toward Cesare.

The old man settles up next to Medeia, the cane out in front of him given a little wiggle as he props himself up with it though hints that he might not actually need it. Zakhar looks BORED. He was to ask something of the lady Eswynd, a light comment is made and when it looks like she is answering he starts mumbling, "fuckit."

Zakhar mutters, "Their ... design was ... heat ... though all ... that went up ... the air with silliness and gave ... ... something new, something that can be useful if ... can just find ... ... wish to ... them. ... I'm just going ... keep finding ways ... drop them from the ... ... ... ... in roofs without a fucking ... to whose or what I hit in the manner of it all. Look. ... simple, they need to get messages ... long distances, the best ... ... ... ... is to send something sparkly ... ... ... ... color ... something different, ... it ... Green fight, red hold. I don't fucking care. ... just not going ... ... if I can't smash ... ... in."


It is never good to let the audience get restless.

The General once again steps away from her target in order to TAKE SOMETHING OFF. First, she shakes off her leather gloves, essentially throwing them to the ice -- err, floor. Then, she unclasps her jerkin, and peels it off. Not that she's wearing anything but a wrap about her chest underneath, mind, which gives a nice, sweaty view of Piccola's scarred-up torso and arms.

Are you not entertained?



Denica hands her empty glass to Stojan and she murmurs something into his ear, he nods. Denica takes in a quick breath and she walks over to where Medeia is, and she offers the other woman a parting smile. "I'm afraid I have an appointment, but I'm glad I could I make it. That was great fun. I enjoyed myself," she tells her, a dip of her head in acknowledgement. Denica offers a few parting claps for the on-going fighters and a quick wave to Cesare, as she makes her way out.

3 Thrax Guards, an ostentatious curator named Sivas, 1 Thrax Elite Guards, a reserved assistant named Stojan leave, following Denica.

Zakhar nods to Medeia, "yes. the transporter."

Medeia has a quiet exchange with Zakhar before giving Denica a grateful smile. "Glad you were able to come!" She waves to the princess as she leaves and then looks back to the fight for a moment. "This is... a surprising result. And it isn't even a result. Yet." Zakhar's last comment earns a nod. "I'll talk to them for you."

"Just let me know when you want me to run in and start stabbing with my hairpins," Cesare murmurs to Medeia. He's kidding though. Totally kidding.

Raven ducks out of Raimon's swing and looks around, somewhat bemused, "I cede, Your highness. My lady. Gents You all are too quick for me. I wish you all the best."

Medeia laughs softly and slips an arm arouns Cesare to give him a slight squeeze. "No, no stabbing. Though..." She carefully stands and calls out, "Halt!" She waits for the fighters to do exactly that and then, "Alright, you've all proven to be excellent fighters. Before any of you develop internal bleeding before conceding defeat, I'll give you all a prize. Eat, drink, rest. Let the medics tend you."

Wagner is ducking and diving, his deep bass laughter rumbling between parries and exchanges of blows that don't seem to deter either opponent. By all appearances, the Ulbran is enjoying this far too much. "Yes, my boy, not too bad for a fancy fuckin' silk! There may be some life in t'peerage yet!"

Drake finally gets just one punch that sinks in before he hears Medeia calling it. He's dripping with sweat in spite of the fall chill building... and when Medeia shouts... He ducks under a shot from Piccola, and then holds both hands up. "Actually, that was fun. Think you'd have had me eventually."

Raven bows to Medeia, "Thank you for hostessing, my lady. I've been in SORE need of a proper workout, you've NO idea." She flashes a lopsided grin, "Alas, I have a ship that leaves port on the next tide so I must be on my way."

Raven is overheard praising Medeia.

Drake is overheard praising Medeia.

Drake is overheard praising Piccola.

Drake is overheard praising Raven.

Drake is overheard praising Raimon.

Drake is overheard praising Giada.

Drake is overheard praising Wagner.


You'd think that Piccola would be happy about the fight ending, what with looking somewhat gassed.

But, no. No. No, the General is a fighter, yes, and one that likes to see things through. The battle has been called, and she does offer a hand to Drake in congratulations, but she is clearly not in a bright mood. "Eventually, we will have to start it up again. And then we shall see which of us will outlast the other." It is respectful, yes, but she seems like the sort of woman that makes sure there's no food left on the table.

Vipers are a vindictive lot.



Raimon shakes his head as it ends, sending a few drops of sweat airborne. Raimon turns to marvel at how Raven isn't even yet winded. Amazing. Raimon offers a handshake to his opponent for much of the fight, holding out his hand to Wagner in the palm - to - forearm style of handshake favored by soldiers, sailors, and folk of the north. "Well fought!"

Drake lets out a little 'whoosh' of air when Piccola seems colder on this than he was. It only sours his mood a little, but... he also realizes he's tired. He gives Medeia a bow, and goes looking for his shirt. "Thank you for a good bout, but now I'll be off for a bath."

Raven eyes Raimon and and eyebrow waggles, "You're not in bad shape. We should sparr properly sometime. See how you fare." She winks and then fingerwaves to Zakhar, "Nooo, I missed drinking with old timer! I owe you, Zakhar! You! Me! Rum! This will happen soon."

Wagner is riddled with scars, stab wounds, and the various likes up and down the forearm he extends to return that shake to Raimon, down to his bare torso. "I can accept and 'preciate a good fight. Well done. It has been a time or two for' I've had one proper." A nod is given to Raven of the same nature and appreciation before he is moving to claim the rest of his dirty armor and return it to its proper place on him.

Cesare only pouts very slightly. It's hardly a pout at all, really. He's not disappointed that he didn't get to stab anyone, or that nobody's eye got poked out with somebody else's thumb, or that nobody suffered testiculor torsion. He's had wine, and may have even eaten some pumpkin bread, and all is well with the world. He salutes the fighters as they all leave the ring, holding up his glass. He doesn't apologize for heckling, because that's just par for the course.