The Barrel, Johnny's bringing the ruckus [open for anyone, mod Apophis]

[Johnny K]

TIMESTAMP: mid/late summer ERA XI

There he was again, strolling mercilesly drunk through the streets of the most dangerous city in all of the empire. Trying to sing a happy tune, but messing up the melody and slurring the words. He had not drank a drop that day, but it was much easyer to get into fights if people thought you were drunk so he swayed his way to the bar wher he knew people would in for a little rough and tumble and burst through the doors.

When he reached the bar he lost his balance and fell forward, catching himself on the counter and hoisted himslef to his feet. Crosseyed he studied the bartender muttering to himself.

"Hey. HEY YOU?"

He yelled, louder than anyone could apreciate and he sounded so intoxicated thathe could almost smell the unexistant alcohol from his breath. He did smell nontheless, he had drenched himself in beer in the streets to make him look like a pitiful drunk. he wore his casual suit. Not his death black ninja suit, that would scare of too much potential "customers"

"Quick a bit you fat moron, or do you want a dig with this one?"

He belched waving his fist around, nobody would like a man doing such things. Not even malicians...

[Apophis]

I'll start modding this monday. Timestamp ?

[Daemn K'rryl]

OoC: Trying to keep up, now that I'm not working 42-hour weeks. If I am dragging on though, feel free to knock me out and drag me away from the thread, cuz I know how annoying it is for all involved.

IC: If Johnny was just playing drunk, then he must have been a very good actor. Mind you, as Daemn gazed at him muzzily through bloodshot eyes, the jagara wouldn't have been able to tell the difference anyway. Johnny may have been stone sober, but Daemn K'rryl was so pissed he was almost blind.

The drinking had always been a casual thing - that is, while he often drank to excess he rarely binged just to feel wasted. It was just that as a night wore on, one shot of whiskey would turn into twelve in between gambling, hitting on waitresses and sniggering at all the losers in the establishment (ie everyone but him). However, since his loss in the tournament his blood alcohol level was almost constantly high these days.

Daemn did not take losing well. In fact, it had been the first time since leaving his home that he'd actually been defeated - not just beaten, but had his furry arse handed to him and left broken and bloodied on the forest floor. He couldn't walk through the streets of Malice without facing at least one derisive sneer from a passerby who'd recognised him, though that was probably his fault. The old Daemn - the proud, strong, invincible Daemn - would have just bashed the first person to laugh at him, thereby discouraging the possibility of a second. But he'd let it get out of hand as his injuries had slowly and painfully healed, and now there was no stopping the ridicule.

His heart just wasn't in it any more.

Rising from his seat in the back corner - away from most gazes, but unable to escape the snide laughter from one scrawny man close by - he staggered to the bar; one paw closed awkwardly over a small jigger with the oozing dregs of unrefined spirit leaking through his digits, the other waving vaguely in front of him to aid his blurring vision. Someone passing by brushed roughly across his left side, sending the inebriated katta spiralling chaotically into open space. His footpaws scrabbled for purchase for a few moments before he tried righting himself. Daemn pushed upwards, swayed dangerously and crashed onto his face.

Funny. That should have hurt. Maybe his nerve endings had just shut down under the relentless onslaught of corrosive alcohol.

So this is it now, Daemn, a voice said inside his head. It was the voice of the upright, arrogant jagara warrior who had strode into the fortress of Malice earlier, eager to test his skills, eager to win. It was a voice that had faded, drowned, dimmed gradually over the past few cycles. Flat on your face, unable to stand, laughed at by those who would normally fall before you. You're pathetic.

The jagara made a noise at the back of his throat as he levered upright on his wrists. Casting around dimly, his flailing paw caught the jagged remains of the shotglass - apparently he'd smashed it as he fell. Head sunk and crestfallen, he staggered to his feet and shambled the last few yards to the bar, where Johnny was mouthing off to the barkeep with fire in his eyes. Daemn winced at the noise as he ordered another nip of Amberpoison whiskey. "Bein' keepin' it down, hombre. Summa' us ain't bein' feelin' so good, ai?"

[Johnny K]

"The Jagara that had the tumble with groshy

Johnny thought as he sized up his future opponent. The jagara had speed, he knew this and so did Johnny, but Johnny had learn speed aswell when he was with the ninja can. And so much more than that, so much more. He took a little step back when the Black cat hissed his words at him, still looking at him with sheepish drunken eyes. He could smelll that Daemn had been doing his fair share of drinking and a devilish smile crept onto his face.

The baker didnt say anything he just looked at the cat.

"Summa' us ain't bein' feelin' so good, ai?"

That was K's cue. The Jagara had not finished his "ai?" or Johnny's right fist whipped out with lightning speed, aiming straight for the Katta's throat. The rest of Johnnys muscles didnt really move but the muscles used for that movement all teamed up together to make fot this hellish blow, it was a faul one Johnny knew but this was what he had become, a killer...

[Apophis]

As the Jagara moved to confront Johnny in a rather disorderly manner, the other bar attendants moved to give the pair space. Every patron here recognised a good tussle forming when they saw one and this would be the fight of the century. Two drunken bums smashing the brains out of each other. And they didn't even need to pay to watch this spectacle. Even the barkeeper let it go -entertainment like this made his sales skyrocket and it was free for him, too.

Stools and tables were skillfully wedged aside as the two combatants confronted each other even before the first punch was thrown. Everybody hushed silent as the Jagara spoke to the human bum. This was the cue everybody had been waiting for as Johnny's arm rocketed towards Daemn's throat. People rose up and shouted in excitement as the battle broke out.

The only ones who weren't content with this were the prostitutes, for whom this free entertainment was direct competition to their business.

OOC Daemn, you are allowed to defend yourself in your post.

[Daemn K'rryl]

OoC: Mind if I let myself get hit? If not, tell me and I'll do something different.

IC: Daemn gazed with sunken eyes at the loud man to his right as he spoke his piece. He recognised the guy from somewhere; the face rang a bell, but it was well clappered and muted from the thick veneer of intoxication. In his current state Daemn would barely recognise his own mother.

The bastard hadn't even let him finish - from out of nowhere a sharp fist came rushing at his throat. Had he been in peak awareness and condition, the katta would have been well able to defend himself but given the situation he was taken wholly by surprise. He swayed and ducked his head slightly and raised his arm a foot or so to parry - an instinctive, reflexive move by now - but he was far too slow.

The punch caught Daemn squarely on the chin, sending the katta lurching back a metre or so pirouetting on the spot. His vision clouded and dimmed as the blood rushed to his head, great spots developing in front of his luminous yellow eyes. He blinked a few times and shook his head, feeling the ache in his jaw and a pounding start to sound in his skull. Luckily he was so drunk: things never hurt so much as normal. That wasn't to say he was in no pain at all, however.

Snarling at the man, Daemn whipped his paws downwards to his sides before bringing them back up again - Johnny would find himself staring down three long, keen blades protruding from each of the katta's gloves. The jagara snarled and slurred at him, "Yahh, jus' you bein' try'n' tha' 'gain, hombre!"

A part of him raged and screamed to spit and gut the vicious baker where he stood... but that part was older, and weaker.

[Johnny K]

"C' mon kitti."

John-boy taunted the dead-drunk Jagara. The unsheating of the blades had usettled the Ninja-baker a bit, but he now realised this, actualy unworthy, adversary would be more likely to injure himself with the blades.

"Are you sure you're wanting to be using those? Someone might get cut if you start waving those around"

He said in a irritating and parental voice, relaxing his body to hide the skill it possesed. He was merely waiting for a good chance to strike the Jagara again. It was a Shame he took the throat blow on the chin, if he had not this fight would have been over by now. But, Hey, he was here to fight not to celibrate victory...

[Apophis]

The claws the Jagara unsheathed made many people scream with excitement. This fight was going to be positively awesome. Bets were soaring -the Jagara drunk had the advantage, betting wise. Three or four to one, at least. Johnny was considered the underdog due to his lack of defense against the natural weapons of a katta, especially now that the beast was going to use them.

Some kept betting on the human though. Maybe they liked the underdog, maybe they had nothing to lose. Maybe they liked a laugh, or maybe they realised what was going on. Or maybe Johnny wasn't as perfect an actor as he thought and some saw a golden opportunity to make some easy money.