Ouroboros sighed wearily as he watched the thug pull his dagger out and hold it underhanded. If the man came at him correctly, then all he'd have to do is lunge at Ouroboros with the dagger held at his torso, but the Night Elf doubted that a mere street urchin would know how to come at him with finesse. He also eyed the blade and noticed that the workmanship was quite basic. Even if the swordsman were to only raise a hand and block the attack with his armored palm he wouldn't have too much to worry about, other than some minor discomfort it wasn't likely that any of their weapons would be able to pierce through his ornate plate. Still, Ouroboros had always neglected to wear a helmet, believing that they hindered his vision during combat, and so it was still possible that one of the thugs might get lucky and strike him where he was unprotected. Since he was sitting down and cornered, the Night Elf was willing to play it cautious.
The leader's friends moved in closer, cornering the lone Elf even more as they reached for their own weapons, which were cleverly concealed in hidden pockets stitched into their black leather pants. However, while moving in closer they bumped into the Dwarf sitting nearby which caused him to give Ouroboros a quick side glance. That look was enough to tell him that the stout, bearded figure had been listening in on their conversation and had been paying rapt attention to the events unfolding beside him. The Dwarf's eyes hinted at concern, and Ouroboros was able tell that he was trying to implore whether or not the Elf needed any assistance, but the swordsman only smiled and shook his head. Still, the shorter man rose from his stool to clear up a bit of space, and even managed to pull away the other fellows who were drinking nearby.
"Something funny, Elf?" Their leader asked heatedly.
"Funny? No, no, certainly not. I was just wondering what your name is."
"I don't reckon that's too important in your case. It's not like that sorta info will help ya much."
"Maybe not, but it would be nice to know the name of the man who killed me – consider it peace of mind." Ouroboros smiled at the lead thug.
The leader smirked and poked at his cheek with his tongue while shaking his head. "Sounds like an awful waste of time. Did ya tell my friends your name before puttin' them down like dogs?"
The Night Elf shrugged and pursed his lips dismissively. "Fair enough I suppose. Just trying to buy you folks some extra time!"
Ouroboros Bladesong threw himself back while kicking at the top of the table from below. The Defias thugs swore, and raised their arms to block the table as it flew at them, bowling the three man gang over like a set of dominoes. The Night Elf leapt to his feet and reached for his sword leaning against the wall as the men disentangled themselves from the table lying on top of them. With a single fluid motion Ouroboros slung the sheath over his shoulder and pulled the Bladesong on his foes just as they began rising to their feet.
Picking themselves up off the ground, the thugs were angered over how foolish the Night Elf had made them look. The three of them snarled at Ouroboros and brandished their daggers at him menacingly, but quickly backed away from the Elf upon seeing the great sword in his hands.
By now many of the patrons had risen from their seats and were trying to back away from the dangerous brawl. The patrons closest to the door rushed from the building in fright, but those on the second floor looked down over the rail with curiosity as the men and women closest to the combatants scattered like ants for safety to the far edges of the tavern. Likely seeking to score a few free drinks, the patrons sitting at the bar jumped over for safety and ducked down, though a few of them did poke their heads back up to see how the fight would unfold.
Holding the Bladesong before him defensively, Ouroboros slowly advanced toward the middle of the bar, allowing the three men to encircle him. With hunger in their eyes, the Night Elf was reminded of sharks circling their prey before diving in for the kill, and he wondered which of the men would make the first move. He kept his eyes trained on the one who did most of the talking, which wasn't very difficult for he decided to jump upon the center table and preside over the fight. Ouroboros doubted that he would be the one to go in first, after all, the leader of such groups almost never attacked first.
Sure enough, the man to Ouroboros' right rushed him with the dagger held high overhead. The Night Elf grinned now that he had an idea on how to handle the situation and he turned toward the attacker. Since his back was now turned toward the one who was previously to his left, the swordsman guessed that they were hoping to try and stab him in the back. Simple enough to take care of, after all, he'd been around for thousands of years, such a tactic was one that the Elven mercenary was more than familiar with. However, instead of focusing his own attack on the man rushing him, Ouroboros went for the one behind him. He waited for his attacker to close in on him, then, at the last moment, he stepped back to dodge the swing. The man behind Ouroboros then rushed at him from behind, thinking that the Elf was too busy watching out for the first one's knife, only to have the swordsman slam an armored elbow into his gut, forcing the wind from his lungs.
Breathless, he dropped the dagger and collapsed to his knees in pain. Ouroboros then spun around and scooped the fallen thug from the ground by his face. The Night Elf lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the wall, the back of his head hitting the oak walls particularly hard. Ouroboros released his sword for a brief moment, long enough to deliver a vicious punch to the thug's throat, which crushed his neck in and caused him to spit blood all over the Elf's wrist. He released the dying human and grabbed for his sword before it could hit the ground and then charged at his first attacker with the blade point held back.
The man was so shocked by the sudden turn of battle that he couldn't even move out of the Ouroboros' path, not that such a maneuver would have prolonged his life anyway. The swordsman closed the distance between himself and the thug within seconds. He smashed the hilt of his sword into the man's torso so hard that he lifted the human off of his feet, and continued to carry him toward the opposite wall. The patrons watching on the side shrieked in both terror and amazement as the Elf carried his foe toward the wall and they immediately cleared from where they would soon collide. When Ouroboros finally did reach the end point of his charge, the hilt of his blade drove itself even deeper into the man's stomach. A loud crack that was probably the thug's spine filled the air, but Ouroboros Bladesong didn't leave him to the life of a cripple. He quickly backed away from the falling man and turned his sword around in hand, then impaled his foe against the wall. The Night Elf placed a booted foot against the wall and kicked himself to free the blade from the oak.
As blood drained from the man's corpse and pooled on the floor, Ouroboros turned toward their leader, who still stood upon the table in the middle of the tavern. At this point in the fight he stared with unconcealed awe at the Elf who so easily bested his two companions as though they were nothing.
"If I took down three of your friends back in Moonbrook, what did you possibly imagine you would be able to do against me in the middle of Stormwind City?" Ouroboros shifted so that he was holding the point of the great sword toward the ringleader.
"I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking! We just wanted to avenge our friends is all, surely you can understand that! Please, let me leave here with my life and I'll never trouble you no more!"
"Oh, let you live so that you can harass somebody else after this? No can do… You should have stayed put with the rest of the trash." The Night Elf changed positions as if he were about to rush the man.
Fearing for his life, the thug dropped the dagger in his hand and tried to make a desperate dash for the door. However, the swordsman was much quicker, and before the human could even reach the midpoint of the table Ouroboros was behind him. The man stopped moving forward as his body started to convulse and a terrible wrenching came from his chest. As he started to cough blood all over himself, he looked down and found the tip of Ouroboros' great sword protruding from his chest, the leather chest piece cracked and flaking around the edge of where the blade pierced through. The Night Elf held the man there for only a moment before bringing his blade and the man's body back with it until kicked the corpse free from his sword.
Turning the sword point down so that the blood could drain off of the metal, Ouroboros looked down at the corpse, and then at the people who stood in absolute silence around him.