Seaching for Mr. Zan Zu

[Rhargn Etn]

ooc: This is a training thread. Please don't post in it. Thanks.

48th Brightening. Melora. Winter.

The pastel sky hung void of life, its faded edges implementing a pale azure tinge to its canvass.The oceanic wind crept in an assassin like manner, grating at the skin of any who were unfortunate enough to fall victim to its stalking manner. However, with Spring just behind the disappearing icy weather, there was no real extreme frost like there had been. Instead, there was the normal bitter tearing of the Nexus Prime climate.

Rhargn and Sam had taken cover within an inn of whos name had not been paid attention too. It was certainly one of the very few of which they weren't locals, but that was how the ruffian wanted to keep it. Memories of the massacre were already warm in his mind, and to revisit a site of flickering happiness would have easily broke him down completely. Was it not for the Dragonhound pup, it'd have probably already have happened. However, as it was, the two waited at the bar as a malestorm of thoughts struck up within the mountain man.

Rhargn inhaled heavily as a gloved paw dropped down to stroke his pups head, who was laying comfortably beneath his stool, ready to fall into the land of dreams, a land of which he could chase rabbits all brightening long. However, he always welcomed the affection from his leader, even if he was almost passed the barrier of wake.

The ruffian looked about the shoddy inn, all eyes seemed on the new comer and his dog, which would have been fine were the majority of the eyes not held by Giant like bulks. Adjusting his gaze from the mob behind him, and refocusing on the bar man, thoughts of Ghok flooded back to him. Those men behind were like his Zan Zu teach of old... Zan Zu. That was something he enjoyed greatly, something which demanded concentration, something which would take his mind from his pains, surely. At this, a subtle yet fragile smile etched itself under his beard as he caught the attention of the bar man. "Serale, this is going to sound like an odd thing to ask, but do you happen to know any Zan Zu teachers." True it was a strange thing to say, but if anyone knew the people in a city, it were the owners of inns and taverns.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The Foamy Beard, as the notorious establishment was called, was littered with occupants on this dreary brightening. Both suns of Telath had dipped behind the clouds, marking the end of the day and making passage for the steadily looming moon. Most of the citizens of Nexus Prime returned to their homes to cuddle with family at this particular time of the day, but for those without the commodities of such kin, they directed their attention to the only recreational activity that welcomed them on a daily basis: heavy drinking.

A chorus of inebriated bellows filtered through the air as the barbarian and his bloodhound entered. Several pairs of skeptical eyes settled upon the duo, though they paid the large man no heed as he was not an uncommon sight in a city as vast as Nexus Prime. Had Rhargn been a dark elf, orc, or a dracon then he might have received a much more unwelcoming glare (and possibly a few bottles of ale thrown at him), but because this was not the case, casual observers turned back to their mugs of foaming ale.

As the giant Rhargn and Sam meandered further across the floorboards of the weathered tavern, they would spot a stout dwarf working behind the bar. His beard, a fine match for the flames of Aeternia, was coarse and thick and hung down past his belt. It was a wonder that the barrel-chested dwarf did not trip over his own hair as he walked, but somehow the stocky creature managed quite efficiently to work from one customer to the next without any difficulty. Upon delivering several goblets of drink to the other patrons perched at the bar, the dwarf shot a glimpse of the approaching Rhargn and offered an unpleasant grunt of greeting.

"Eh? Zan Zu teachers?" the dwarf grumbled, "Aye', I 'eard of them on occasion, but ye ain't gonna find no teachers in 'ere for sure." the short creature broke into a cackle that sounded as if he was inadvertently gurgling on his own saliva –or choking on the beard that crowded most of his face. "Whats it to ye anyway?"

Meanwhile, the sound commotion could be heard coming from behind Rhagrn and was soon accompanied by a slur of angry curses and roars.

[Rhargn Etn]

Rhargn's hazel orbs weaved among the coarse beard that the Dwarf possessed, his gloved hand coming to tug at his own, which hung a mere few inches from skin. To the ruffian, it was quite an achievement to have such a fantastic adornment gracing ones face, but pleasantries were obviously going to be lost within this flaming filth pot. Eitherway, upon hearing the gruff words of the barman, Rhargn exhaled heavily, disappointment welling up inside him. The sadistic cackle that followed brought him to a far more angry state then agitated as he was in no mood for idiots. "What is to me?... What's it to you!?" He commented spitefully, not taking any humor from the ugly, minature bloke. "I'm looking to get more training in it, that's what it is to me. What'd you expect?"

As his menace filled words grated from between his lips, the eruption from behind spewed forth, causing the titan to spin on his heel, his fists balled up heavily. If someone was coming at him, he'd end up with a purple tinge eye socket, and a place over the bar. Almost simultaneously, rose Sam, his blunt fawn muzzle showing teeth in a bemused look of bamboozlement. All he knew was that something loud and near had woken him from his slumber. However, he was soon comforted by a large hand from above, his pack leaders hand of assurance. It put the dog greatly at ease, for he'd seen Rhargn battle it out against many a foe, protecting him as any good leader should.

Rhargn waited for what he expected to be a heavy hearted response from the Dwarf, as his gaze focused on what was happening behind.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Flames erupted in the dwarf's beady crimson eyes, and it almost appeared as if he was going to leap over the counter, grab Rhargn by the neck, and strangle him until the barbarian's face turned blue. Surprisingly, though, the bartender exercised an immense degree of restraint and shrugged apathetically. "Trainin' eh? Bah! Ye humans are too stubborn and block'eaded to and learn anyway!" Matching the larger man's tone with one of his own, the dwarf crossed his burly arms over his muscled chest.

It was only after striking this pose did the bartender's eyes widen angrily at the sight that unfolded behind the human and his animal. As Rhargn turned, he would notice several hulking humans (much like himself) engaged in a heated brawl. Tables were turned and glasses were broken as the fighters inadvertently collided into other patrons within the Foamy Beard, instantaneously triggering a fight that involved the majority of the occupants inside! There were several women, too, that immediately joined the tavern brawl, sweeping up chairs as weapons and slamming them harshly onto the backs of unsuspecting and distracted men.

“Now ye done it ye blokes!” the dwarven bartender cried out in rage. Despite his diminutive size, the stalwart creature climbed onto the bar-top, flexed his chorded muscles, and then dove wildly onto a throng of ground-fighting humans. The three began to roll and thrash in unison, battling for upper ground despite ignorance of the identities of their opponents.

Rhargn, still detached from the maniacal fight, would see the dwarf’s powerful hands grasping one of the fighter’s legs and biting him ruthlessly in the ankle. The attack provoked a shrill scream of anguish that managed to rivet the attention of the pained man’s comrades, two fellow brutes who had recently disposed of one of their opponents and thrown him out of the tavern.

One of the advancing men, a bald human with a sky running down his eye, produced a cudgel and tapped it suggestively within his palm. The other man, heavily muscled and larger than Rhargn, displayed his awkwardly shifted teeth with a sly grin.

Meanwhile, the dwarf was far too occupied on chewing the weeping man’s ankle to pay any notice.

[Rhargn Etn]

Rhargn's hazel gaze glanced the buldging veins that seemed to pertrude from the Dwarf's neck, as an unspoken anger clearly welled up inside him. The ruffian didn't care though, for who was this half sized bastard to speak anyway? He did let him natter on though, and shook his head in an act of amusement as the bar man's words chewed into his ear. However, this amusement quickly warped into an act of urgency as alcohol apparently began to rule the brightening, and an ever expanding scuffle began to break out.

The titan's orbs widened in disbelief as the carnage began to unfold, it being on a much larger scale than the few man brawls that he was used to. With this awareness, came the undenyable growl from below, as Sam took to all fours, his canines showing aggressively, ready to dive in himself. "Sam, stay!" His pack leader ordered, above the sound of the commotion that hung in the air. Fortunately, the Dragonhound had been through training and understood what was expected of him, allowing Rhargn to ready himself without the worry of his hound getting involved.

Suddenly, the gruff sound of the small swine from behind was sounded, causing the ruffian to shift his posture so that he could gaze at the Dwarf. He smiled gently, gaining a new found respect for the bar man as he clearly prepared to become part of this skirmish, and then it happened. Rhargn's gaze fluttered with the hurtling combatant, as he smashed into the battle, completely fearlessly. For some reason, it caused the hairs all over the titan's body to stand erect at attention as a small tinge of pride skimpered through his veins. He watched as the battle rolled on, grimacing slightly at the under handed tactics some characters used, but then again were any tactics in a bar brawl 'under handed'? Eitherway, Rhargn's focus then quickly shifted to the approaching duo who were quite clearly on their way to dispose of the Dwarf, and although the mountain man and the miniture man had gotten off on the wrong foot, he wasn't about to just let him get ambushed and out manned.

"Sam, stay!" He ordered once more, a serious glare in his eye which told the pup he was being deadly serious. At this, Rhargn scooped up his bar stool and launched it across the floor, aiming for the bloke with the weapon. His hope was that it'd buy him enough time so that he'd be able to implement something he'd learned from his basic Zan Zu classes. He moved into his Crouch Stance, with his face and torso covered from attack, and hastily scurried forward. Upon coming within striking distance of the two who aimed to take out the barman, Rhargn aimed a Drop Kick at the weaponless bloke, hoping his stool throw had done enough to the other, so that he'd be able to deal with them seperately. Next, whether his Drop Kick was succesful or not, Rhargn would attempt a Shoulder Throw into the bar stand, before taking several steps back and assessing the situation, a look of worry etched into his face.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Shrieks of pain continued to erupt throughout the tavern, resonating in the ears of all of the Foamy Beard's patrons. Surprisingly, though, no authorities arrived to end the brawl prematurely for the tavern's notorious reputation included intermittent fights that usually subsisted for brightenings at a time. The policing militia of Nexus Prime had learned long ago that oftentimes it was better to intervene when brawling participants wore out and expended their energy, thus leaving themselves vulnerable and susceptible to detainment. Consequently, it was literally every man, dwarf, and even bloodhound for himself.

The husky-voiced dwarf battled valiantly upon the tavern floorboards, occasionally finding an opening in his opponent’s defenses and sending one or two vicious jabs into the man’s face. Managing to eventually retrieve the upper-ground, the dwarf grinned (and displayed two rows of uneven yellow teeth) in the process. Swinging his heavy boot into the unconscious man’s nose, the bartender laughed boisterously as the sound of crunching cartilage seeped into the dwarf’s hairy ears.

So delighted in his victory was the dwarf that he hardly noticed the two assailants that came upon him, and he turned precisely when Rhargn’s stool flew across the room and collided against the armed man. Shrieking in surprise, the cudgel-baring frantically raised his arms to cover his face, but the force of Rhargn’s throw caught him in the head and an explosion of devastating force could be heard all around. Blinking in sheer shock, the unfortunate human tumbled unconsciously to the ground accompanied by a shower of splintering wood.

The man’s comrade, however, had participated in enough of these tavern brawls to regain his senses, and thus he was very cognizant of Rhargn’s charge. As the barbaric man came barreling at him, the bald-headed human instinctively step-sided with more quickness than was expected of his obese form. In the process he had managed to procure a small knife which he slashed towards Rhargn as he passed and attempted his drop kick, though because of his retreat the bloke only succeeded in gashing a small portion of Rhargn’s shirt.

“Stay outta this lad! He’s mine!” came the dwarf’s incredulously booming voice as he fixed his icy glare upon the recently knife-brandishing human. Seemingly oblivious (or nonchalant) to his opponent’s weapon, the dwarf charged head first at the man with explosive speed. The human swept his dagger in an attempt to catch the dwarf across the face, but he discovered soon enough that the bartender, too, was definitely no foreigner to this type of fighting.

Maneuvering his head to the side, the dwarf directed a powerful uppercut beneath the man’s chin enough to rattle his teeth. Ruthless and absolutely possessed by rage (more so because of the money that it would cost to repair his tavern), the dwarf miraculously vaulted his body into the air –feet first- and kicked both of his tree-trunk-like legs into the human’s chest in a crushing collision, one that instantaneously sent the man air born and over the bartop!

The poor human crashed painfully into the glass cabinet situated behind the counter, breaking dozens of bottles in the process before his limp and prostrate physique plummeted helplessly to the ground.

“Feth! Not the booze!” the bartender cried out. His muscularly chorded veins flexed as he reached out as if in an attempt to halt the man’s flying form from destroying any more of the valuable liquor, but it was too late.

The dwarf sighed. It would take forever to clean the place up.

Clapping his hands and wearing an unexpected prideful beam as he turned momentarily to Rhargn, the dwarf seemed to adopt an entirely new attitude, one perhaps elicited by the recent fight. “Ye see lad? That’s how ye do a shoulder throw.”

By now the tavern was littered with splintered wood, broken tables, and dozens of battered and bloodied figures upon the ground. Most of these began to stir as the dwarf barked out commands for everyone to vacate the premise, but there were a few that did not arouse despite the dwarf’s prodding (which included several kicks to their backs and stomachs).

This was clearly one bartender who was used to the aftermath of such extracurricular activities.

[Rhargn Etn]

It was a strange occasion for Rhargn to feel worry wash through him, yet this child like fear was entwined with a tentative feel, one which told him he was going to be rumbling for himself in a few moments. The thrill of action had forced out the suicidal memories of the Primus Gaudeo caravan journey, and in its place rested a new found buzz of life. This was doubled as the sound of the dwarf began to fight its way above all other battle cries, all other screams of pain. In fact, the way he fought made Rhargn slightly regret the way he'd spoken to him, as that downed man being torn to ribbons could quite easily have been him. Eitherway, there was no more spare time to ponder on such thoughts, and so Rhargn let fly his unorthodox projectile, a slight grin sewn roughly under his beard as his hazel orbs watched as wood shattered on bone and concluded in a man waking with an extremely harsh head ache. Things were looking like the old times.

At this, and with his sudden charge forward, Rhargn fully expected to out do his opponent. However, with the nimble footing of the fat man, the next moments disappeared within an instance, the titan only realizing that at the end, he had a tear in his leather top. As another moment passed, the welcomed called of the dwarf caused Rhargn to take a large step back, regaining his composure as he did so. Focus began to return and with it came the vision of the dagger wielding man hurtling through the air, causing a combination of a gasp and chuckle to slip from between the ruffian's lips. Without a second thought, Rhargn made ready to jump over the bar, yet the fact that his would be opponent was clearly out cold caused him to halt.

Everything had unfoled within an instance and something that could have lasted for at least a candlemark, had been mopped up by what was clearly an experience fighter, within several minutes. A sigh of relief escaped the mountain man as he heard the dwarf curse over spilt 'milk', before he went about his excavation of the bar interior, making sure everyone was getting their oaf like bodies out of there. "That was amazing! I'm Rhargn by the way." The titan replied at the dwarf's comment on the shoulder throw. "So, I guess it's you I should be asking for the training then. How about it?"

Sam barked merrily as the carnage ended, causing Rhargn to move over to him and scrat at his underside. So, that was a turn out for the books, the man whom the ruffian had asked if he knew anyone, was actually the one he was looking for.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Clapping his coarse hands together satisfactorily, the dwarven bartender grudgingly stooped over to pluck several splinters of wood from the tavern floor. "Ah dammit. Me lady's gonna cut me beard off." Shaking his head angrily, the dwarf kicked at another heap of recently awakening forms, all of which yelped painfully as the bartender finally ushered them out of the tavern with more than a handful of thrown fists and curses. It was not until the majority of the Foamy Beard had been vacated did the dwarf turn back to the large barbarian whose demeanor had abruptly transitioned as he introduced himself.

Almond-shaped fiery eyes stared at the much taller human for some time, though the dwarf gave no indication as to whether or not he was pleased that Rhargn still remained within the disheveled facility. Snorting derisively and spitting out a mouthful of blood, the bartender suddenly grinned widely and conveyed his now crimson-stained teeth. He did not seem agitated by the pain, though, and it was a wonder whether or not the blood had come from the dwarf or the ankle that he had been chewing on moments before.

"Rhargn eh? What kinda name is that?" the bartender queried, moments before he burst into a heap of laughter as he pointed a chubby finger at the human's torn shirt. "Ye let that oaf cut ya!? Hahaha! Oh me boy, ye were lucky on that one." Shaking his head, the dwarf sighed and seemed to ignore Rhargn's initial question for some time. He continued to kick several broken bottles across the room and towards the doorway, grumbling all the while about how long it would take to re-establish and refurnish the Foamy Beard.

Craning his head upwards to look at Rhargn, the dwarf's gaze narrowed considerably as he stood over the oaf of a man that Rhargn had assaulted with the giant stool. "Well what're ye standing there for? Ye caused this mess 'ere and yer gonna clean it up. Ye 'eard me lad! Get yer arse over 'ere now!" the dwarf bellowed, and he stomped his hairy foot emphatically as if waiting for Rhargn to throw the unconscious man outside of the tavern much like he had whipped the chair across the room.

In many ways the dwarf resembled an impatient child.

"As fer teachin', well, learned me skills from me granddaddy's daddy and ain't ever taught anyone a'fore. 'Ere's the deal, though, mate, ye help me clean up this raggedy place and I'll show ya one or two things that ye ain't ever seen a'fore!" the dwarf grinned.

Pounding his chest ardently, the bartender's hands finally settled upon his hips.

Truly, he was the epitome of one proud dwarf.

OOC: feel free to describe your PC's actions if he chooses to help the dwarf

[Rhargn Etn]

Rhargn watched with an unsure interest as the nameless dwarf went about his buisness of removing debris and punters from the Foamy Beard. He chuckled silently to himself as the clearly worried barman fretted about what his 'lady' was going to do to his beard, allowing a painted mental image to form in the titan's mind, of two bearded character, unidentifyable by first glances, with one attempting to lop off the others facial hair.

He wasn't sure whether it was best for him to help or to just stay out of the way, and so for the moment he decided it best to leave the dwarf to his frustrated buisness. However, as the sands of time gradually dropped towards the lower half of the glass, Rhargn caught the stare of intense eyes almost piercing him. It brought an odd sense of awkwardness as for several moment the two simple stood and glared at each other, neithers determined aura cracking, and then blood hit the floor. It was to be expected though, and whoevers crimson it was was bound to feel it in the morn. The ruffian's face scrunched up slightly at the sight of such an amount, he'd seen it all before but it still wasn't a pleasant site, especially when blood red and plaque yellow teeth were presented. This show of teeth however brought a sense of calmness to what had only seconds ago been a chaotic site of carnage, and then the gruff words came.

"What do ya' mean? It's a bloody mans name, that's what it is. What are you called like? Jesabel?" The titan spat out a hearty laugh at this, hoping the dwarf would see the innocent humor in his words. However, then came the barmans own laugh, causing Rhargn to glance down at what the attention was pointed towards. His leather shirt had fortunately taken the brunt of the dagger attack, and it kicked in how lucky the mountain man was for actually not taking a huge gash to his torso. "Aye, I was bloody lucky." He replied, with wide eyes.

The two had apparently hit it off well, once the mannish pride had died down anyway. However, this state of 'tranquility' that hovered delicately within the run down interior of the Foamy Beard was soon shattered as orders were spat out. Had training already begun? Rhargn knew from his previous instructor, Ghok, that if they were disobeyed, he'd end up covered in more bruises then necessary, and so nodding vigoursly at the dwarf, the titan made his way forwards. "Sam, stay."

As he let the barman move over to get on with other 'cleaning up', the behemoth took liberties in grasping his victim by collar and crotch and carrying him brutally towards the open door. He inhaled deeply with a strenuous but smiling face, and then bringing the weight up behind him, let his arms swing like a pendulum, letting go as they made their way to the opposite point, concluding in the bloke going flying several meters away from the establishment. After dusting off his gloved hands, Rhargn then spun on his heel and headed back to where the destruction was mainly situated. He brushed shards of glass over to the door with his foot so that it was safer to walk, before picking up the large splinters of wood that he'd let fly only moments before and stacked them up at the side of the doorway. It took a good amount of time for the room to get cleared out as the titan shifted both broken bodies and broken furniture, but eventually he finished with a sigh of relief. "There I've done your scivvy work, now how about teaching me?" His tone was filled with jest and play, he just hoped the dwarf saw that.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

"Jez-uh-bel?" the beady eyed dwarf grumbled questioningly. His thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he scratched the tangled skeins of fiery crimson atop his thick head. "What ye take me for, laddie, a woh-man!?" Barking out angrily, the bartender's gaze narrowed moments before he tipped his hairy chin up pridefully. "I tell ye, ye giant oaf, no woh-man in Telath could grow a beard so thick and fine as mine!" Breaking into a heap of laughter, the dwarf sighed and shook his head, "Ye can call me Delwar! Now shut yer yap and get ta work!" Yelled the agitated dwarf.

Kicking the air as if it was Rhargn's behind, the bartender turned his back and began to sweep up much of the broken glass and splinters that littered the floor. The pair worked silently for the remainder of the afternoon, dusting and removing excess pieces of wood from the facility and tossing it casually aside. Delwar seemed especially amused when Rhargn hurled the unconscious human outside alongside a heap of other bodies that only recently began to arouse subsequent of the blinding sunlight. It was not until most of the tables and chairs had been pushed aside through the efforts of both the dwarf and the barbarian did the bartender breath out boisterously.

"Feels good ta be clean, eh lad!" Delwar commented with a dumb grin -which once again displayed two rows of bloodied teeth. The irony of his statement was born in the fact that not only were the floorboards still sticky, but there were bloodstains and shards of glass still loitering about the ground. Nevertheless, the dwarf seemed content with the amount of space that had emerged consequent of all of the furniture that had been moved to the ends of the room, creating an open area in which he and Rhargn stood.

“’Ere, ye earn’d yerself a beer!” the dwarf chuckled as he turned to the counter. A frown marred his usually cheery face, though, when he remembered that most of the glasses had been utilized as weapons or destroyed when the thug hit by the drop kick had flown over the counter. Shrugging apathetically, the dwarf held his chubby hands out to the sides in defeat. “Mebbe not.”

“Anyway, laddie, ye done me a nice fav’r and I’ll reward ya wit what ye asked fer earlier.” Shaking away the dust from his hands, the dwarf hopped onto the remains of the counter and stood in a dominating manner. Sadly, though, at his diminutive height he was still considerably shorter than Rhargn. “Ye’re lucky, too, fer there be few outside o’ Zerdargia as amazing as me in Zan Zu! I practically wrote the ‘book’ ye ‘ear?” Another chorus of laughter ensued after the obviously exaggerated comment.

Grinning mischievously, the dwarf tightened his fists in front of him before crossing them over his chest, “Now ‘efore we begin, whatcha know ‘bout Zan Zu and why ya so interested in learnin’ it any-a-ways?”

[Rhargn Etn]

The amusement that entangled the two together was well taken, it created an invisible bond that Rhargn took an inner warmth from. Even though the two had only just met, the ruffian needed a friend, needed someone he could joke with fore all his friends had been massacred, minus Viskyia of course. Work continued and after several candlemarks later, the duo had accomplished their work. "Well met, Delwar and aye, does feel good. I could do with a bath actually." The titan commented, lifting his arm slightly to smell at his pit, something which hadn't been washed for more than several days.

"Think that's best news I've 'eard all brightening, mate." Rhargn replied, in reponse to the comment on beer. If there was one thing the behemoth loved more then anything on Telath, it was a good pint of beer. Beer had been his best friend over the cycles, he'd confided in it, he'd more or less married it, and for certain, he'd have died without it. However, as his hazel gaze followed the dwarf's his heart sunk. That bastard who'd caused enough trouble, had now done hidden damage... he'd destroyed the refreshments. A great sigh of disappointment tumbled out of the ruffian as he rolled his eyes back, his expectations of the smooth taste of a beer rolling down his throat, shattered. It wasn't a laughing matter.

Convosation soon picked up and diverted attention from the upset to something more constructive, as Delwar went about his story telling. The two laughed in chorus at the bravado filled comments as the question was asked. "Eeer, well I've had basic teaching in it. Giant named Ghok Khold, in Primus Gaudeo... ever heard of him? Anyway, he taught me the basics like the Crouch Stance, Close Jab, Drop Kick and Shoulder Throw. He also gave me a good... 'conditioning' I think he called it, which was basically a beating with a few thick wooden canes. So yeah, I know the basics, but looking to learn more." He inhaled deeply before continuing. "I'm interested because over the past bunch of cycles, I've been in more bar brawls than you could image, and I wasn't able to help my friends who've just been killed by bandits." He spoke these last few words in a way of no emotion, trying to appear like it was water off a ducks back, when in reality it tore at his interior, like nekodes on paper. "Zan Zu seems best form of Zinn'ka for a man of my size too."

[Nimavel Mynendil]

"Nay, lad, ain't ever 'eard of no Ghok Khold. I tell ye, though, da real Zan Zu experts be from Zerdargia. 's where it originated and where I was born too!" the beady-eyed dwarf beamed his bloody grin once more as he punched himself emphatically upon the chest. "Ye know, if yer ever interested ye should travel 'dere! When yer finally good an' stuff." Delwar's broad shoulders heaved in a serious shrug as he looked forlornly at the broken bottles of beer. His chubby fingers pricked several shards of glass from the busted cabinet, and he allowed them to fall dramatically from his hands and onto the wooden floorboards. Shaking his head disappointedly, he merely turned back to the large human and cackled boisterously. "And I like yer spirits lad, always good ta wanna improve.”

As Rhargn recollected of the loss of his friends to the bandit party, the dwarf sighed and leaned his weight back upon the partially demolished counter. “By Cetheron’s beard, dats a sad story, mate. Dun ye worry, though, ‘s gonna happen sometime r’ight? All part o’ life.” The dwarf’s crimson eyes stared out the window to the steadily approaching nightfall before turning back to his barbarian friend. “Ye remember wat happened ta Zerdargia, muh home? When those fethin’ undead attacked, me lost many o me childhood friends n’ family. So I ‘ear ya lad.” Nodding understandably, the dwarf’s broad shoulders heaved upwards again. “Anyways, nowsa a not da time ta be sad. Its time fer some learnin’!”

Intertwining his fingers together, the dwarf stretched them before him in an ensuing crackling of multiple cartilage. He laughed at the sound and then lolled his head from side to side, gesticulations that resulted in equally resounding snapping. “Nowafore we begin, ye gotta show me whatcha got! Every-a-one o’ us Zan Zu users uses a dif’frent style as we all gots dif’frent sizes n’ crap. Yer bigger n’ stronger dan me and there ‘fore I gotta use muh weight dif’frently. All o’ us got dif’frent advantages n’ disadvantages n’ I wanna see what yers are.” Nodding purposely, the dwarf’s broad legs separated equidistantly and he set his hands upon his knees as if he was getting ready to charge headlong at the barbarian.

The sight was certainly peculiar for the dwarf was several feet shorter than Rhargn and probably less muscular as well. And although the strength of the dwarves was not restricted to size alone, it was clear that Rhargn at least possessed the advantage of size and strength. What, then, did the dwarf know and wield that evoked such confidence from him? Wearing a sheepish grin the whole time, the bartender merely waved for Rhargn to begin the first phase of their training. “Come on ye bloke! A’fore me wifey comes and shortens muh beard!”

[Rhargn Etn]

The mention of the famed city of Zerdagia brought a slight smile to the ruffian's unshaved face, that was a city he'd forgotten about after the talk of the attack on it had died down. However, with this rekindled interest in it, Rhargn made a mental note to visit the city of dwarves. As the convosation gradually bounced along, the passage on Delwar 'liking his spirit' took the titan's inners and warmed them greatly, while his hair stood erect to attention, a tinge of pride once more racing up and down him.

The two apparently found a merriment within the other, something which was of great fortune due to the time they were potentially going to spend together. However, as this joy became entangled within the talk of death, depression began to take over. The way Delwar spoke about his family and friends made the mountain man inhale deeply, his breath quivering slightly as emotions ran riot within him. Eventually, without a tear dropping, Rhargn regained composure so much as to force a smile onto his face before the dwarf began laughing at his actions. It was a well timed action, something which surely wasn't planned to have such an effect as it did, fore the ruffian then shook away his thoughts of the past and stared heavily forth, as if looking to the future.

Finally, the time had come for Rhargn to show what he had, and with the instructions given, he nodded in understanding. At this, he moved himself into his Crouch Stance, with legs shoulder width apart and right foot infront of left, his right side facing forwards. His knees bent slightly to stabilize himself as he scuffled a step forward, allowing his arms to shift into their defensive posture. Hands rose with no fists made, a way to protect all of the face, while arms dropped with one covering his leading side and the other his torso.

His stance was well formed as he quickly skittered towards the dwarf, allowing him to throw a few simple Close Jabs towards Delwar's chest, his fist connecting while arm still bent. With a few testing punches allowed to fly, the ruffian snapped out his lead leg in a Drop Kick manouver. Hopefully, luck would be riding with the titan and he'd connect with one attack, allowing him time to take grasp on the dwarf's arm and turn his back to him, at which he'd drag his instructor over his shoulder and on to the floor in a Shoulder Throw. It was a long shot he knew, but this was all he'd been taught in his basic lessons.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Beady red eyes flared with excitement at the prospect of the long-awaited fight, one that Delwar had not participated in (seriously at least) for many ages past. As a bartender whose tavern wielded a reputation for numerous brawls, the dwarf’s hands had been tied in that seldom had he intervened in these skirmishes against opponents who were guided by instincts and not the liquor pulsating through their veins. These incompetents were ordinarily too unstable to remain on their two feet for very long and thus they had been relatively weak and simpleminded opponents.

The mountain man, however, would hopefully prove to be a far more capable and cognizant opponent –Delwar had to hope. He sensed the experience guiding the barbarian’s movements, regardless that the skills accentuating these motions were only limited and sparse. Nevertheless, Delwar grudgingly admitted that he owed Rhargn for bailing him out of that last situation, one that could have resulted in a knife in his back. And like all dwarves, Delwar was not one to be indebted to anyone. “A’righty lad! ‘Ere we go!” the bartender gruffly shouted, loud enough so that passerbys outside of the Foamy Beard could discern his roaring commencement of the duel.

And then the battle went underway.

Delwar’s eyes, normally wild and exhilarated, adopted a rare acuteness and sternness as he witnessed Rhargn’s bowling charge. He had witnessed such brazen antics before, and though they could be effective at times, they would seldom succeed against opponents who were well versed in the combative arts –much like the bartender. Subsequently, Delwar did not immediately react despite the promised pain that coincided with Rhargn’s arduous rush. The barbarian outweighed him by a number of pounds, but Delwar had never relied solely upon his finely bulging muscles to win him a fight. He depended upon his experience, skills, and wits to see him through any situation.

Feet spread apart with his right partially ahead of the left, Delwar leaned forward on his lead leg. The dwarf’s callused hands were open (much like Rhargn’s) as they lurched out in front of him as if he was getting ready to push through a wall. He kept a low stance and equilibrium, enough so that onlookers might wonder if such a posture would result in several cricks in his back from maintaining the pose for so long. Nevertheless, as Rhargn came forward with a swarm of punches, the dwarf instinctively backpedaled to avoid the bone-shattering assaults of the giant man.

Next came the drop kick, a technique that was firmly grounded in the basic understandings of Zan Zu. Delwar recognized the motion immediately and it was during this time that he ignited into action. Faster than could be anticipated from his stout frame, the mighty dwarf sprang forward –his front knee lowering near the ground as he shot towards the remaining leg that Rhargn stood upon after recovering from the initial kick. The dwarf’s back left continued to drive him at Rhargn with blazing power, enough so that the barbarian could feel the momentum of the dwarf’s crafty low attack as it occurred. Delwar’s right hand cupped around the back of Rhargn’s knee as his left secured at the barbarian’s ankle. Utilizing the inertia of his charge to push Rhargn back some, the dwarf lifted the leg and tucked his head into Rhargn’s side to protect his face from being pounded –that is, if Rhargn could even get off a few swings before chaos erupted.

Securing the barbarian’s leg between his crotch and clamping his legs together to lock the foot in place (and to prevent the barbarian from kicking upwards in to the bartender’s groin), the dwarf grinned and twisted his body violently across the floor –a brutal movement that would literally rip Rhargn’s leg out of its socket if he did not roll with the dwarf to the ground.

[Rhargn Etn]

ooc: Sorry for poor post. You did such a goo