The Murder of Crows is rather busy tonight. There are the typical ruffians hunched over their tables and nursing their bottles of booze. There are the little street urchins, hoping for scraps of food or a loose coin pouch to stick fingers into. There are the sailors who are bawdy and eyeing up the waitresses that pass by. With this many people crammed into the Murder on a cold winter night, all it takes is one thing to erupt into a scene of chaos.

Raja ia among the members here tonight, settled into a chair in the corner. Her hood is raised, covering her features tomake her a bit darker in appearance. Well, there is that and it is cold outside. A dirty mug filled with some whiskey is lifted to her lips where she drinks heartily.

Alarie checked luck + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.

Alarie is at the dart board - when is she never at that dart board - and a few drinks in - more than a few - and tosses the projectile with a flick of her wrist and there it goes, sinking in to the felt as she grins one of the biggest grins she knows how to, back teeth and wall. There's a whoop as it beats out the other individual for points and she's picking up her mug so she can finish it off, head to the bar for another.

Silas doesn't visit the Murder very often, and for good reason: his mere presence sometimes riles the patrons up, or frightens them into silence. Reactions typically fall in one of the two categories. Only the staff itself treats the Lord Commander of the Iron Guard with any sort of civilty, and even then it's just apathy. It stands to reason, then, that he comes for a good reason.

He steps into the tavern, hoping to look as inconspicious as he possibly can... while clad head to toe in rubicund armor. He moves towards the bar itself to speak with the bartender currently working behind it, in hushed tones.

The former shav ranger steps into the Murder, her boots thumping across the wood as she makes her way to the bar, her pine marten hitching a ride on her shoulders as she makes her way inside. She moves with a fluid, catlike grace. The fineness of the furr cloak she wears marks her as nobility, but her bearing speaks of a life in the wilds, where all men are equal and vulnerable to the elements. Icy blue eyes scan the bar cautiously, watchful for pick-pockets or a sly blade.

This was the first visit for Raphael to the tavern and wasn't sure what to expect. He had been out milling about the city and ran across the tavern and decided to come in and take a look and find some soothing rum to throw back!

Estaban walks into the Murder of Crows looking around this is only been his second time being in the place last time he did not have the best of luck but he looks around spotting Silas he heads over in his direction.

When you are new to the giant city of Arx and off to explore it... One might find themselves in interesting places. Being somewhat lost in the city, and seeing a tavern, Clara makes her way through the doors of the Murder to warm herself up. The noble woman is dressed simply, for a silk, just wearing a brown cotton dress. At first she can't see anything because she is behind Estaban and Estaban is a giant of a man but after stepping around him she sets her white eyes on the bar and heads over there with determination. She needed a drink.

In one of the corners there seems to be a card game that is quickly going south. "Cheat! You cheated!" A stubby finger juts forward at a lanky fellow. "Who ya think ya are, commin' in here and cheatin' me!" Suddenly the group is on their feet, standing and glaring at a wide-eyed lanky man. The lanky man suddenly lurches forward to grab the coin that lies scattered on the table, snatching up handfuls to stuff into his pocket. Of course, this goes over like a lead balloon. There is yelling and the men begin to brawl it out in the corner.

This of course, sets off a chain reaction. Someone's ale gets knocked over, adding the patrons of that table to the mix. This group nearly knock Clara into Estaban's back as they join the fray. The unfortunate soul who lost to Alarie's tossing of darts turns on her, now calling HER a cheat! "Get back here you little cheatin' tramp!" He makes grubby hand motions at the woman, chasing her down. Some man recognizes Silas, a man that holds a grudge for being apprehended in the past. "Hey! I know you!" He steps forward towards the man, pulling up his sleeves. As of now, Raphael and Erika have been left alone, but it won'tbe long before an intense brawl surrounds them as well. In her corner, Raja just perks up. A grin crosses her features at the sudden eruption of violence. "Huzzah!" She is on her feet.

Alarie has rolled a critical success!
Alarie checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.

"The fuck you say? How the fuck do I cheat at -darts-" Alarie's being grabbed and the look on her face is one that regardless of the presence of the iron guard, she's still tightening her hand on the handle of her empty drink up when the guy touches her. She doesn't immediatly try to smack it over the guys head, but the motion is there, threatening to do so, daring the man to take it further. "Call me a tramp, one more time asshole."

Silas nods to Estaban when he spots the man approach him in the corner of his eye, but the shout from the individual who clearly recognizes him evokes a scowl and he shakes his head. "I'm going to dress differently next time I attempt to ask questions here..." At the moment, he just wanted to get things done, and stopped by when he was going back and forth between the docks. He turns to address the man, clearing his throat. "Hello..." He notes the rolled up sleeves. "That's -really- inadvisable..." But alas, intoxication makes stupid men brave. At this point it was clear to him the whole place was descending into chaos. Guardsmen nearby will likely notice the commotion soon, but until then... "Everyone not looking for a fight, get outside!"

Clara stumbles into Estaban as she side steps some of the chaos around them with a clear 'oh crap' expression on her face. She didn't have on any armor, she didn't have any weapons on her... the tiny noble woman had her fists! To Estaban quickly after bumping into him... "Sorry! I didn't mean to fall into!" Because that giant man was the last person she wanted to be punched by in this room. Well... Estaban and Silas both really. She would have listened to Silas but there were too many people fighting between her and the damn door and so for the moment she just focuses on moving away from punches as they come.

Raphael looks at Erika and shrugs, as he watched the place starting to turn upside down. He didnt have any armor nor weapons, but could quickly grab a glass if needed. He knew Silas could handle on his own, so the lawyer, tool another sip of his rum and smiled, while avoiding the building chaos..

Estaban is bumped and he looks over and then down his blue eyes look to Clara looking her over, "I would make your way out as the Lord Commander sujests." he looks her over with a friendly look but then his attention is on the commotion and moves to Silas side to help try and get the choas handled.

Tiny Tom arrives, following Sparte.

The poor bartender just sighs. "I just managed to get stuff cleaned up from the last brawl." He mutters as he steps back from Silas. "I am not getting paid enough for this shit." He steps back and away from the bar as violence swirls so close. He looks rather aggrivated with the development of these events. The man grabbing at Alarie gets really close to her, snarling with gnarled teeth and rather rank breath. "What ya gonna do about it.. tramp." He reaches out to grab her by the cloak. "Get over here!"

The words spoken by Silas are heard. There are a good number of patrons who were peacefully here just wanting some grub, warmth, and ale. These people get out any way they can. One even opens a window to crawl out and dissapear into the night! Despite the words of Silas telling the drunken, stupid man that his actions are ill-advised, the man continues to approach with a sneer. With hand bawled into a fist, he swings with all his might towards the face of Silas.

Just as Clara bumps into Esteban, a man is punched right in the face next to her. The man turns a whole 180 degrees and now faces the lovely noble. He is dazed, lips bloodied and eye beginning to swell. The man just smiles at Clara and says, "Ain't ya a pretty one!" Then WHAM! A chair explodes on the man's back into a million pieces and he flies forward, face first into Clara's dress!

Estaban is a big fellow. A pair of young men decide he looks like he would be fun to take on. Suddenly, from the Lord's left these two men launch themselves at him with a yell of intent.

Where Raphael sits to enjoy his beer, a man is thrust into the wooden bar. He turns and looks at Raphael, then snatches his drink and turns it up just as a pair of meaty hands reach out at the back of Raphael's shirt!

Raja is a fighter. All that pent up anger just comes out as the chaos ensues. She leaps into a mob of men all brawling near a table. Punches fly and feet swiftly kick. Of course she receives a few too!

Alarie checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 1 lower.

Her grabbed her, made contact with her and that's enough for Alarie. That mug in that hand is going up and coming down to clock the guy who's calling her a tramp with little less than a snarl from the petite woman.

Silas checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 15, rolling 20 higher.

Silas checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 14 higher.

Estaban checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 15, rolling 30 higher.

Estaban checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 9 higher.

Next order of business? Help get the ones who don't want to be here get out, if they can't do so on their own. Poor Clara happens to be one of them! He grunts at Estaban as he nears. "Help them get out, Estaban!" He's one of the few present who was fully armored, so he considers himself in less danger. The man steps forward and takes a swing at him, but Silas can easily see it coming and ducks in time to evade the blow. As the man attempts to recover from the sudden forward momentum, Silas slugs him in the gut, hoping to put him out...

Clara catches the man that falls into her and realizing that the man's head is touching her cleavage she steps back and lets him fall to the ground. "Thanks." She says to the once chair wielding individual. "Well, I cannot say that my first night in Arx has not so far been interesting." Then to Estaban... who is busy... "You would think that wisdom might say "Clara, get out of the crazy bar" but in reality my brain looks at all the fighting happening between me and that exit and my brain says... "No Clara, you will have to fight off less people if you stand still than if you try to get to that door. I think I'll just stand..." She takes a couple steps away from the guy she dumped on the ground. "...here." And then some of the passing angry patrons move by her and she gets a cup full of ale dumped down her front. "Really nice guys! Thanks! I needed an ale bath tonight!"

Clara checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

As Raphael was sitting back and enjoying the view, The man crashes into the bar and take his drink, Raph looks at him with a frown as he empties the glass. Raph was about to get up and do something about it when he felt himself being dragged off the barstool by someone he didnt know. As he was being dragged backwards he felt like they crashed into someone else.

"I can't do that Silas! I got company!" yeah for a tall guy in armor the man can move and so he side steps one of the young guys that comes at him turning to the next and punching the dude in the face. "If you fall I sujest you staying down." he looks around to see who is near him and spots the tiny noble woman and moves to stand near her hands up in fists.

Sparte is late to the event, sticking his head in the doorway to look around the Murder. Only it is the back he is sticking his head out of. He yawns, slowly meandering into the room. Was he asleep back there? In his armor? Tiny Tom the stoat bounds in after him, climbing his leg and chittering at the room in an annoyed way before diving into a belt pouch. "Is this... Is this a normal fight or a break it up fight?"



Moira was taking care of things in the back, when she heard somethng that she felt she needed to look into. So here she goes, stepping out of the back to the front where she she saw the chaos breaking out. She places her hands on her hips and sighs, "Lovely," she mutters. She lets her eyes wander as she looks over the place.

Maybe the man thought Alarie a timid little mark. He is caught by surprise as the mug catches him right on the cheek! His face snaps to the left and blood comes forth from a gash that now forms on the height of his cheekbone. He reels, stepping back a bit and looks at her. The look on his face is that of pure shock. "Damn.. kitty got claws!" His lips turn into a snarl and he launches forward, drawing his hand back to slap her!

The drnken man that attacks Silas looses his balance slghtly, as punch misses and swings through the air. He stumbles forward a few steps before spinning back around to face the Lord Commander of the Guard. He was getting ready to charge forward, but is met with a firm punch right into the gut! He can't help but to double over, coughing.

Clara's bosom buddy does in fact topple over onto the floor, after leaving a smear of blood upon her cleavage. He is out for the count, finished from the mixture of booze and brawls. As she stands there dripping in spilt ale, some bawdy bar chick throws a mug that flies right towards Clara's noggin! The chick didn't mean to throw it at Clara. It just so happened to miss the target of her ire.

Raphael is dragged off the stool and unceremoniously dropped onto the floor. "Get out my way!" The angered patron yells at him. There is a swift kick that is aimed to poor Raphael in an effort to get him moving. The other man finishes off Raphael's drink before laughing. "Take his money!" He yells to his friend that now descends upon Raph.

The men launching themselves at Estaban meet an immovable object. Estaban is just more man than them. The first man gets clocked good enough that one could swear they saw stars circling around his head. The second just well.. they ricochet off the brute of a man. "Damn! What do you eat?! Rocks?!" Some people here -are- smarter than others. These two fellows decide Estaban is not to be messed with.

Something flies through the air, right over the heads of Sparte and Moira. The two have not been noticed yet by the brawling mob.

Jax receives a good clock in the face, leaving a suddenly swollen lip and bruised ego. She reels back, landing into a table. Her hooded cloak has been ripped off to reveal her head full of dreads and dark complected skin. She can't help but to smile, reaching up to wipe blood from her lips with the back of her hand."Damn I love this place."

Clara checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 15, rolling 31 higher.

"Oh no, no... I'm fine, really. I'm a bit wet and there is a feeling of violation but..." Clara ducks as a mug flies at her and then past her, hitting the wall behind her. "Ultimately, I can probably, mostly, just keep myself out of the way." She looks over at the bartender. "This happens here a lot then?" She would note this, perhaps to never come back or to come back more often. Then back to Estaban. "Though, honestly, I am greatful for your assistance..." She had no idea what Estaban's name was but obviously this was the perfect time for introductions.

Raphael lands square on his back and now is a bit unrest with the situation. He hears another guy talking about taking his money and Raph decides this has to stop now. As the guy descends on him he kicks his leg to hold him off and back him down while trying to regain control to get up and back on his feet to fight the best he can versus being on the ground fighting.

Silas looks to Sparte after his attacker is taken care of, at least for the moment. "A few of them deserve a night in the cells." Attempting to assault the Lord Commander was probably a terrible idea, if one wanted to avoid that. It doesn't escape him that there were individuals in the middle of the brawling that were seemingly having casual conversations! "Don't go too rough on them." Silas moves to then attempt to punch the mook going after Alarie next.

"Fucking righ-" Alarie starts to say till there's that crack against her cheek. She rocks her head to the side and a bit of a stumble and like a kneejerk reaction, the petite dark haired seamstress is launching at the man, all fists and knee's, relatively unaware of Silas as she's trying to teach him a lesson.

Silas checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 11 higher.

Estaban looks to Clara, "Lord Estaban Saik!" he says as he moves out of the way as a chair goes past him and hits the wall. He looks over at who chucked it his way giving him a oh no you didn't look and starts to march in that direction leaving Silas and Clara behind for the moment, "Come here I want to talk to you." he points to the guy who chucken the chair.

Osmond the Pine Marten have been dismissed.



Moira grumbles to herself and looks to the object that flew overhead. She looks around the room to see the one that threw it. Whom ever it was they just bought a nice... what ever that was. Yup she was commiting that face to memory. She stays out of the trouble for now, commiting as many faces as she can for this mess.

Sparte says something quietly to Moira, giving her a big double-fisted thumbs up before climbing up onto a table and lifting his voice. "Hey you miserable fish faced bastards! I'm talking to YOU you shit stained goat fanciers! I've seen buckets with holes that hold their drink better than you! You're a bunch of misbegotten thrice-cursed mongrels!" Sparte stomps on the table. "And if you got a PROBLEM with my saying that, come here! Right now! Here's your chance to punch a guardsman and show you arn't a bunch of cowards, if you've the spine for it!"

Sparte checked charm + diplomacy at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.

The hive of villainy and scum ebb and flow with people fighting one another. The fighting is beginning to dwindle as various fighters either surrender or are knocked unconscious. The furniture sure has taken a toll within the bar, but thankfully the glass windows havn't been broken! CRASH! Ok, I spoke to soon. A body is tossed out the window, leaving one less brawler moaning out in the murky snow.

Clara will find that the majority of the men are fighting each other, not truly targeting women unless they felt threatened in some way. How can they feel threatened by a woman soaked in beer?! Though, bodies move and writhe around them, though slowing down quite a bit.

The man descending upon Raphael suddenly finds himself falling into the floor, faceplanting as his leg had been kicked out from under him. He rolls on the ground, screaming in agony and it soon becomes evident that the man has a second knee in the middle of his shin. The man who took Raph's drink goes wide-eyed and even pale a bit. "Bascu!" He comes off thebar and to the aid of the man, looking at his leg. "Don't worry brother! We will get you taken care of." Then suddenly, he turns towards Raphael and growls. "You!" With expert precision, he jabs his fist forward to clock Raphael in the face.

The mook that had assaulted Alarie looks smug as the slap crosses her face. "Learn your pla..." His sentence is cut off as a flying kung-fu punch o' doom comes from nowhere and clocks him one good. DING! Silas just rang his bell. Now, Alarie's flying fury lands on him, leaving welts and bruises until the man just falls to the ground.

The man that has raised Estaban's ire suddenly goes wide-eyed. He scurroes around to the other side of a table to put something between him and the lumbering giant coming his way. Someone tankard is snatched up and throws towards the hulk. What good is that going to do? Someone is having immediate regrets about life choices..

Suddenly, all the brawling stops and faces turn towards Sparte. People are mid-punch or mid-throwing something. With a unified roar.. people forget who they are brawling and a stampede of drunken sailors, ruffians, and ne-er-do-wells rush towards Sparte.

Clara checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

"Lady Clara Crovane." The woman replies as Estaban heads off to confront the chair thrower. "If I am needed when this calms down... I am a medic." Clara turns her attention to Sparte and places her hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. "Oh that is not going to end well..." She watches as the poor man is rushed. "Well damn it. I was hoping not to get into the fight. Okay, that is a lie... I love fighting but not in front of guards. That's not smart, usually." She sighs and starts moving towards Sparte to help him, punching the man that threw the tankard at Estaban in his face. Benefit of being seen as non-threatening... You can get close to the idiots that believe their delusions. "Go put yourself in custody." She recommends to him as she steps around her victim towards people rushing Sparte.

Silas steps back to let Alarie pummel her downed assailant. He deserves it! His blue eyes flash around the room, going from Estaban then to Sparte. He blanches when he hears his guardsman attempt to provoke the -entire- mass of drunken sailors, cutthroats, and other ne'er-do-wells. "What are you do--!?" Too late, there was nothing Silas could do to stop the bloodthirsty mob. He attempts to trip and grab a few as they lunge forward, but the majority of them would likely get to Sparte!

The man is down, But Alarie's not stopping as she straddles the guy and lets her fists go, a little caught up in the moment and her anger. It's been a few long nights and she was in here, for some relaxation. She's out for blood, just a little and a few more swings are likely to satisfy her.

Silas checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.


     After Sparte whispers to her Moira moves around tbe door that leads out side, and opens it as wide as it would go for the poor man that was bringing the crowd to his attention. "Don't mind me," She mutteres as she walks the best that she can to not draw attention. Hopefully following the door in time for the poor unfortunate soul.

Estaban looks as the tankard hits his armor and he narrows his eyes, he steps over to grab the guy by the shirt, "Sit the fuck down and stay there or else." he growls and turns to try and help keep the crowed off of Sparte and Silas! "What the hell are you doing!"

Estaban checked dexterity + brawl at difficulty 15, rolling 23 higher.

Sparte skids down the table, flipping it on it's side in the process. He makes a line straight for the backroom at a run. The doors that would normally be in his way have mercifully been opened in advance, letting him keep momentum to stay ahead of the drunkards, sailors, ne'er-do-wells and worse that suddenly really don't like the guard with the fancy red helmet. Sparte gives a little salute-wave to Moira in passing as he hightails it. "Appreciate it!" He hits the alley, picks a direction at random, and goes as fast as his shiny metal rump will move. Cardio is important. So very, very important.

Sparte checked stamina + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 8 higher.

As the door is opened, it gives Sparte an escape out into the night. A vast majority of the brawlers take chase, feeling personally insulted at the man for calling them fish-faced and what not. One guy actually -looks- like he has a fish face with the awkward angle of his nose and rather poofy lips. Sparte keeps ahead of the crowd as he runs down the alleyway. The crowd squeezes through the doorway, bumping into each other, shoving one another, and cursing as they file out of the establishment and into the alley after him.

This leaves just a few brawlers behind. There is the rather unconscious man that is continuing to get a good thrashing from the beautiful Alarie. Then the man that Estaban was after gets cold-cocked by a white-eyed noblewoman. He sort of looks at her in surprise and was about to retaliate.. but.. there was an Estaban. He took his punch and then obeys the big man. "Sorry.. I jus' got carried 'way. I didn't mean to throw that." He sits and quickly puts his hands in his lap. "Damn, Ma is gonna kill me."

Raja stands to the back, dusting bits and pieces off herself. She raises her gaze, her face battered, but still standing. "Ya guys might wanna make sure yer guard lives through the night."

Silas checked command + leadership at difficulty 15, rolling 15 higher.

Well... if they were all going to chase Sparte..."Good luck! Guess I will instead check over the wounded." And so Clara starts looking over the poor fallen individuals. "The good news is... half are you are drunk so it probably hurts half as much as it otherwise would have." She begins checking people over and helping them the best she can.

Clara checked intellect + medicine at difficulty 15, rolling 20 higher.

Silas is relieved when Sparte seems to escape, even though the mob still gives chase. He quickly follows them outside, but instead of giving pursuit, turns towards the docks where his men were stationed - helping with the harbor clean up in the wake of the disaster that recently befell the area. "Hey! Drop everything for the moment and go apprehend the men going after Guardsman Sparte!" They look confused, initially, but a contingent of about ten armored guardsmen salute and hurry towards the stampede, intent on following orders and saving their fellow guardsman!

There are definitely wounded in here. Most of those that had fallen unconscious now sit up, leaning against something and rubbing at their heads. There are a few broken bones, battered faces, and some cut flesh. Raphael lies on the ground completely unconscious and missing his coin purse. As for Raja, she just straightens her garments and smiles. A bit of coin is tossed on the bartop, "Thanks fer the whiskey." Snatching her cloak, Raja turns to leave the establishment, wraping herself up for warmth against the winter night.

One last punch, a good solid one to the guys nose that's likely to cause it to need adjusting and Alarie's standing up and stepping back, breathing a little hard from this loevley evening. Running her wrist across her forehead, Alarie looks to her hands and one or two split knuckles and winces. A quick look around at the iron Guardsman heading out the door to yell for help and ALarie's looking ti slink off and away to lick her wounds and hopefully escape being noticed too hard.