The South Wall Brawl
30 Last Seed, 3E 427
Arathor was bored. It wasn't that hanging out in South Wall drinking and watching young, half-naked ladies dancing seductively on the stage wasn't fun. Swindling some poor sod in a card game was usually good for a laugh. It just got old sometimes. He needed some action. Aha! At the bar, he spotted his friend Habasi and the new blood, Adanji sitting together, deep in conversation. Maybe the boss would have a job for him?
"… Wasn't your fault," Habasi was saying as he approached. Adanji groaned, her ears folding back. Her face was pressed rather firmly into her hands.
"Is something wrong?"
Habasi looked up at him. "Khajiit just got back from a job."
"Didn't go well, I take it?" Adanji must have mucked it up. If so, she was probably embarrassed. He felt for her, but she'd have to get over it; nobody got far in the guild without making a few mistakes. They were learning experiences.
"Habasi sent the Toad to pick up vintage brandy from Ralen Hlaalo's personal stores. She found him dead. Hacked up by an axe, apparently," the mastermind explained. Adanji shuddered, making a gagging sound in the back of her throat.
"Oh!" That wasn't the explanation he'd been expecting. "Well… at least that made the job easier?"
Adanji gave him a horrified look. Habasi scowled.
"What? Dead men tell no tales." Perhaps that sounded heartless, but Arathor would take his breaks where he could get them.
"If Arathor must know, the Toad did a fabulous job grabbing the brandy and high-tailing it back here. Quickest work she's done yet- didn't even take her an hour. But we cannot have the guild implicated in this. Phane is visiting House Hlaalu right now to discuss Adanji's findings and smooth things over."
"Ah! I was wondering where the stodgy old bastard went off to..." he said, looking around. It was a lie; he hadn't even noticed Phane was gone until now. "I wanted a drink— you said Adanji brought us some vintage brandy?" His mouth watered.
"For a job," she said firmly, "Phane asked for it. He will be selling it here at 'a slight up-charge.'" She imitated Phane's nasally voice.
"Which means it's off limits." Arathor sighed in disappointment.
"Precisely. Unless friend Arathor wishes to pay out the nose for it." She stared at him expectantly. When he showed no signs of leaving, she added, "Is there something else he wants?"
"Actually, I came to you looking for work. Do you have anything for me?"
Habasi pondered for a moment then shook her head, frowning. "No. Not at this time. Habasi is sorry."
Drat. It seemed he would have to find his action elsewhere—he certainly wasn't going to be hanging around Adanji while she was moping. He liked her well enough, for someone he'd only known about a week, but she always seemed so depressed. And for a Toad to come across a dead body so early in her career seemed a bad omen.
Scanning the bar, he caught sight of Chirranirr. Maybe she was lucid? Hopefully she was, and would be up for a good time.
Chirranirr dreamily watched the patrons going about their business. It was all a little fuzzy around the edges, fading into a pleasant buzz. She liked the rhythm of it. She tapped her claws on the wood of the bar at her side, where she had carved a number of vulgar drawings over the years, much to Phane's chagrin. She eyed the bouncing bottoms of the girls on the stage in the corner. It was a shame they had a strict "look but don't touch" policy. She could really do with a tumble.
She could always do with a tumble.
Looking around, she caught sight of her two favorite people crowded at the end of the bar with the new girl: the Mastermind and her elf. Her mind wandered as she imagined all the fun they could get up to if they would only allow it. Habasi, sadly, was happy to make friends with all her underlings, but that was as far as any relationship with her would go. Adanji was an attractive enough Khajiit, but hadn't responded well to her advances, and Chirranirr had come to the conclusion that the Toad was a prude. Or maybe just not interested in women. Either way, she was off the table—in more ways than one. Arathor was usually happy to take her up on the offer. In fact, the elf was one of the best she'd ever had. Unfortunately, he only touched her if she was at least halfway sober. He didn't want to 'take advantage.' She huffed irritably. If she could stand, she was more than sober enough to make her own decisions!
Getting to her feet, she started in the trio's direction, but almost immediately found herself face-down on the floor. Ouch. If she'd had any pride left, it might have been wounded in the fall. Instead, she cheerily pushed herself into a dazed sort of sitting position, only to find a hand hovering in front of her face. She looked up to see the blurry form of a… well, she couldn't tell. She assumed it must be one of the pale-skinned human races. Maybe a short Nord, or a burly Breton? She took his hand gratefully and he helped her back into her seat.
"My, my… you're a fine-looking lass. And you appear to be quite drunk."
Her ears perked. "Why, yes! Chirranirr is both of these things. Especially that first one! Or maybe the second…?" She giggled stupidly. For some reason, the men around here usually found that charming. It must have worked on him, because he sat next to her.
"Where's the bar tender? I'd like to buy you another drink."
"Phane? That one's no fun." She pouted, "Plus he is not here right now. Out on business."
"Well. That's a shame, isn't it?" He leaned in close, playing with one of her braids. She felt heat rising in her cheeks. "Maybe we can just find somewhere else to talk? Somewhere private?"
A tiny voice somewhere in the back of her mind told her to ignore the whims of her loins. This man was a perfect stranger and seemed a bit shady. But she'd been with plenty of strangers before and almost everyone in South Wall was shady in some way or another. What was the harm? Besides, her instincts told her she was one "yes" away from pleasure. She liked pleasure. She didn't worship Sanguine for nothing. "This one thinks she likes that idea."
Arathor scowled. It looked like he'd been beaten to Chirranirr. Much as he cared for her, he was well aware of her promiscuous nature and couldn't change it. In fact, that was one of the very things that made her special to him. He was about to leave her to her devices when he overheard part of the conversation.
"You're a fine-looking lass. And you appear to be quite drunk." His tone wasn't friendly. Arathor got a closer look at the man's face. He was leering at her like a wolf salivating over a baby deer. Everything about him was predatory. Fetcher. A glance at Chirranirr told him she was eating it right up. If she were anywhere near lucid, this man would probably have a face full of claws.
Well. If Chirranirr wasn't going to stick up for herself, then he'd do it for her! Mustering his courage, he walked right up to the Imperial and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Not right now. Can't you see me and this harlot are having a conversation?"
"Oh! Arathor!" Chirranirr waved excitedly, nearly unbalancing herself in her enthusiasm, "We're going to go for a tumble. Care to join us?"
Arathor ignored her, fixing the Imperial with a hard stare. "You need to leave. Now."
"Oh, don't be a fuddy-duddy," Chirranirr pouted.
"You heard the lady. She wants me to stay." He smirked, towering over Arathor. "Unless you have something to say about-"
Arathor punched the man in the jaw, throwing his full weight behind it. The man stumbled backwards, over his stool, and landed roughly onto the floor. A hush fell over the bar and all eyes were on them. "As a matter of fact, I do." He smirked. He was vaguely aware of Habasi trying to get his attention, but was too agitated to really hear her.
"Oiy!" A Breton shoved his way through the crowd, an Orc following hot on his heels. "That's my mate!" He pointed at Arathor, "Get 'im!"
"Oh…" Arathor ducked under the Breton's fist, kicked him in the chest, and scrambled up on top of the bar. Time for a distraction. "BAR FIGHT!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, it was like an Oblivion gate had opened up right in the middle of the Cornerclub. Fists flew, kicks were thrown, and the shouting rang to a deafening chorus.
He hopped down behind the bar, pulling Chirranirr with him. "Stay low, ok? I don't want you getting hurt."
"Aww, Arathor is so adorable when he's acting all heroic," Chirranirr purred. She grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.
"Mmph, not right now!" he snapped as she tried to unbutton his shirt. He'd be happy to celebrate later, but right now he had a mess to clean up. He hopped back over the bar to join the fray.
"Oh, no…" Habasi sighed, watching Arathor punch out the Imperial. She wasn't sure what had started the fight, though she assumed it had something to do with Chirranirr, given the Bosmer's affection for her. Knowing Chirranirr's vulnerability when she was drunk, the Imperial had probably had it coming, but Arathor could have at least taken it outside first. Now it looked like he'd caused trouble. A crowd was gathering. She had to mitigate the damage. Quickly as she could, she made her way through the crowd. "Arathor, maybe you and your friends here could take this—"
The Breton threw a punch. Thankfully, it had missed, but it still angered her. She had to stop this before things got too out of hand. Brawls were dangerous and she didn't want her friends or guild mates getting hurt. "People, please—go back to your seats! This one is sure Phane will be back soon and—"
Ignoring her completely, Arathor kicked the Breton and hopped onto the counter. "BAR FIGHT!"
Idiot! Habasi groaned inwardly. There was no stopping it, now. Bracing herself for trouble, she dropped into a fighting stance.
"Remind Habasi to give you a proper reprimand when this is all over!" a voice hissed in Arathor's ear. He turned to see the Mastermind glaring at him. Thankfully he didn't have to endure the look long, as Habasi was quickly distracted by someone stumbling into her. She crumpled with a yelp.
Falling! Now there's an interesting attack… He glanced behind them both and saw Adanji cowering under a table, her leg outstretched. He could only guess she had tripped Habasi's assailant, possibly saving the Mastermind from harm, though it didn't divert the attack completely. Ducking through the fray, he knelt beside her as she drew her foot back in. "Not interested in fighting, huh?"
"I think discovering a dead body is enough excitement for one day, thank you!" she shouted over the din.
"Come on! Where's your sense of adventure?" He pulled at her wrist. She almost looked like she was willing to follow him until she pulled back, her eyes wide.
"Behind you!" Adanji gasped.
"Behind..?" Oh. He whirled, just in time for a fist to crash into his nose. Stars flashed before his eyes and he could feel hot blood spilling over his front. Damn it! Blinking a few times to recover his vision, he saw that the fist belonged to the Imperial bastard who had been bothering Chirranirr. Perfect. He rolled out of the way of a kick, found his footing, and charged at the man, bowling him over. They crashed to the floor, rolling over each other in a flurry of fists, fighting for dominance until they slammed into a bar stool, knocking it off its feet with a clatter. Arathor managed to wrestle to the top, and pounded mercilessly into the Imperial's face.
"Enough!" the Imperial spluttered, "Enough! I yield, dammit!"
Arathor scowled, tempted to continue his assault, but then just grabbed the Imperial by the hair, pulling his head forward, "Stay away from Chirranirr. Got that?" Not waiting for a response, he slammed the Imperial's head down, knocking him out.
With some effort—he was badly bruised—Arathor found his footing. As soon as he was up, a sharp pain lanced through his skull with a crunching sound and his vision darkened.
Chirranirr had gotten sick of hiding. Why let Arathor have all the fun? Sure, it was flattering that he was playing the hero, but Chirranirr was not going to just sit back while people fought for her. So she'd waited until the Bosmer was distracted and leapt into the skirmish.
"Chirranirr! Over here!" Her ears perked up and she found Sottilde, happily beating an Orc into submission, his head locked under her arm. "Remind me to thank your boyfriend! Haven't had a battle like this in ages!"
Chirranirr had always liked Sottilde's spirit. The Nord was bruised, bleeding profusely from a wound over her eye and a cut on her arm, but she was still up and fighting. Shame she was married, and quite faithful to her husband. "This one will thank him for you," she said, waggling her ears playfully. Sottilde rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the Orc, finally knocking him out with a powerful uppercut before moving on to someone else.
Chirranirr was about to follow, hoping she might aid the Nord, when a rather loud crack diverted her attention back to the bar. Slumped on the ground was the unconscious form of Arathor. A Breton—or maybe an Imperial, all humans looked alike to Chirranirr—was standing over him, a broken bottle in hand.
"That does it!" Chirranirr growled. She lunged at the bottle man—only to trip and yet again found herself face-down on the ground. She looked up blurrily, hissing slightly as the man approached her. He sneered, lifting the bottle over his head to strike her. Suddenly, a grey ball of fur shot out from under a nearby table and grabbed the man from behind, placing both hands firmly over his eyes. As he stumbled around in a panic, Chirranirr kicked his legs out from under him. Unfortunately, he landed right on top of her rescuer.
Habasi had recovered from the assault quickly, incapacitating her would-be attacker with a sharp blow to the side of the neck. Brawls really weren't her thing— she preferred to stay out of combat if she could help it— but she knew how to handle herself effectively. Gentleman Jim had seen to that in her training, ensuring that she would be a suitable Mastermind.
She glanced around for any immediate threats as she dusted herself off and was surprised to see Adanji joining the fight right at that moment. She was pleased to see a spark of loyalty from the Toad, but they would have to work on her combat skills if she was to be useful.
By Azurah, did the whole Cornerclub join the fighting? She shook her head at the chaos. Turning, the Khajiit sprinted out of South Wall, fast as her feet could carry her. She didn't want to leave her guild mates to fend for themselves, but enough was enough. She had to end this nonsense.
"This one is sorry," Chirranirr said, helping Adanji to her feet, "And also most grateful."
"Yeah… remind me to never do that again, ok?" The younger Khajiit rubbed the back of her head and looking down at the man they had just taken out. "Is he going to be alright?"
"That one will wake with a headache, but yes, he will be fine." Chirranirr snorted, wondering why the Toad cared. "Take care of Arathor. Chirranirr wants more fun." Before she could even move, however, she and Adanji were doused with freezing water. She cursed.
"EVERYONE GET OUT!" Phane roared, "THE BAR IS CLOSED!"
Habasi swung her now empty bucket over her shoulder, looking down at Arathor as he rose, spluttering, and then gazing around the bar to see the fight coming to a gradual stop. She glared at Sottilde, who delivered one last punch to an unfortunate Altmer she'd had in a headlock before dropping him. "You heard the man," she snapped, "We're closed. Come back when you can act civilized." There were groans of protest as well as pain as the patrons slowly filed out, some noticeably limping and nursing wounds.
"Anyone want to tell me what in Oblivion is going on, here?" Phane growled once all that remained were Guild members. "Who started this?!" He scowled at Adanji, who shifted uncomfortably and flattened her ears. Ever since Habasi had hired her, Phane had shown an immense disliking of the Toad.
"Adanji didn't—" Habasi began, before being cut off.
"I started it," Arathor said, meeting Phane's eyes defiantly.
"And you all just decided to join right in, did you?" Phane's narrowed eyes drifted over the entire Guild, lingering on the newest recruit before snapping back to Arathor. "You're going to clean this up, and then—"
"Habasi believes she is the Mastermind, here," Habasi said, crossing her arms.
"Then act like it! Why didn't you stop this before it got out of hand?"
She curled a lip over her fangs, eyes flashing at the insubordination. Phane had always shown some resentment over her position—a position he had vied for before she had even joined the guild.
"Things got out of hand because I let them," Arathor said, "Habasi tried to get things under control, but I… I ignored her." He hung his head, his blonde locks falling into his face.
Habasi sighed. She appreciated Arathor's gesture, but she didn't need him defending her. She was the Mastermind. It fell to her to rise to her own defense, and the defense of her Guild. It also fell to her to punish wrongdoings. "Yes." She looked at Arathor, "This one understands the need to help fellow guild mates. She understands Arathor was defending his lover. But he instigated a fight, putting his friends in danger." She cast about the room darkly, "And the rest of you responded in kind. Someone could have been badly hurt." She bent down and righted an over-turned table. "You will clean this room, and pay for damages. Anything broken will come out of your pay."
"Pay?! For the next fortnight, I'm not paying anything for fenced goods. If anyone thinks they're going to worm their way out of this by not bringing me anything, they can leave the Guild right now." Shouts of protest rang out among the guild members, but Habasi raised a hand to silence them.
"Phane may not be Mastermind, but he does work the bar, and he is the Fence. We must respect his decision." She raised a brow, flashing an amused smile despite her mood, "But he does not have the authority to expel anyone." Phane sneered, but backed down. "Now, Habasi suggests everyone get to work. She wants this place spotless by sunrise."
It was almost light out, but the bar had been thoroughly cleaned. Arathor was exhausted, as was nearly everyone else. Even Habasi had gotten her hands dirty, since she felt she had played some part in the brawl. Phane had just sat and watched with a dour look plastered on his face.
Sottilde was the only one who didn't seem to be bothered. She couldn't stop grinning, much to Arathor's annoyance. "Yes," she had said, "We'll be speaking of this day for many years to come!" He rolled his eyes. He supposed he shouldn't be too bothered. In fact, her newfound respect for him was quite flattering.
He stood and stretched, making his way over to Chirranirr, who seemed to be nursing a headache. "You alright?"
"Nnn, no. This one is almost sober. It is unbearable!"
"Aww," Arathor said in exaggerated tones, "Don't' worry. We'll fix that right up! Assuming Phane's willing to sell us drinks tonight."
"That one would be willing to 'sell' anything," Chirranirr reminded him, "But he may charge us extra."
"We'll see. Anyway, I was wondering if you'll be up for some fun tonight?"
"Ooh?" Her ears perked up, "What kind of fun?"
Arathor trailed a finger down her spine, nuzzling her neck fur and whispering, "Oh, you know… a bit of this, a bit of that?"
Chirranirr purred, "Yes. This one definitely thinks she will be looking forward to that." Arathor grinned. It looked like he would be getting some action after all.
((Lots of POV shifts in this. Sorry for any confusion. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!))