-==# Sergeant Kylon #==-

Finally managing to get his rambunctious men under control, Kylon picked out two, Sayveen and Reynolds, to accompany him to settle the disturbance. "The rest of you lot," he addressed the other guards, "patrol the district. And if any of you so much as thinksabout skipping off to the Pearl or anywhere else, you'll have the honor of joining in on the night shift tonight. Understand?" There were a couple of discontent grumbles, but they bowed their heads, muttered their "yessirs" and shuffled off to their corners to start their patrol anew. Kylon watched them go, shaking his head in frustration. He was down to threatening them in order to do their jobs. If this wasn't a bad omen about things to come, Maker knew what was, he reasoned.

Flanked by the other two guards, Kylon walked steadily over to the entrance of the Tavern and opened the door. Huh, seemed like things were worse than he thought. The patrons were cowering in their seats, the ale practically spilling out of their quaking mugs onto the tables. But it seemed that not all of them were so cowed. One woman near the bar had her dagger drawn, and with a determined scowl, was just about to barge through the door where the loud ruckus was coming from. Before she just barged in and probably got run through by a blade lying in wait, however, the sergeant grabbed her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, almost an order for her to stay put.

The woman turned around, and Kylon found that he recognized her from around the market. It was difficult to forget such a distinctive facial tattoo of a stylish fox, after all. She seemed capable, however, usually dressed in studded leather and armed with bow and dagger, the air of a woodsman around her. She muttered to him in a slightly tart voice, "A bit late for the party?" The sergeant simply raised an eyebrow and nudged her back against the bar, clearing the way for him to reach the back room. However, just as he was about to open it, he turned to her and raised a single hand, gesturing for her to follow him. Well, if she was so intent on helping, then she wasn't about to be stopped by him. Kylon's eyes next went to the guard on his left and asked, "Reynolds, if you'd be so kind?"

The guard in question cleared his throat and bellowed to the other patrons, "Anyone in 'ere who's not wantin' their faces caved in would be advised to leave... now."

Some quick shuffling of furniture and chairs later, and the barroom was practically devoid of life, save for the sergeant, the two guards and the girl. Satisfied that there would be no other casualties, Kylon threw open the door. And it looked like he arrived in the nick of time, too. The Oars looked three sheets to the wind already, a dazed elf against the wall and a serving girl in between two of them, fright and terror etched on her features. Kylon simply walked in slowly, his armored boots thumping onto the plank floor, casting the rowdiness of the room into silence. The elf male sprang onto the table with a cache of weapons atop it, drawing two blades defensively over him, and nodded over at Kylon, asking in a derisive tone, "The shrieking finally get your attention?"

Kylon hoped that his skill with those toothpicks he had was on par with his sharp tongue, else their time together would be short, indeed.

Ignoring the elf, the leader of the mercenaries clumped forward, glaring right at the sergeant with semi-glazy eyes. "Kylon," he spat, almost slurred. The sergeant simply looked back at him, finally speaking up, "I'm only going to give you and your good-for-nothing crew one chance; leave now, or else we'll make you regret it." He knew it was a lost cause to try and reason ith these men, but he wasn't about to slaughter anyone without good cause. He was a man of the law, and would never make the first blow.

Luckily for him, the Oar leader wasn't as adverse to bloodshed, as he marched right up close enough for Kylon to smell the ale wafting from his breath. He spoke, "On'y way yer forcin' us out, sarge, is over my dead arse." He followed up by spitting directly onto his boots.

Not even looking down, Kylon replied, "As you like." His foot shot up and kicked the merc right into the chest heavily, sending him tumbling to the ground. In the same motion, Kylon drew his weapons, and giving them an experimental spin to test the space in the room, lashed out at the two nearest thugs before shouting at his own boys to get their shields up and close ranks. Sayveen and Reynolds complied, lowering their iron bulwarks in an improvised phalanx while creating some room with their swords, forcing the mercenaries back a couple of paces. Edwina had already grabbed the waitress and retreated to the back room during the standoff, so it was just armed men and women in the room now.

Kylon gave a glance over to the woman in leather armor and spoke, "Circle around them, cut off their movement! I'll grab their attention!" With that, he appeared in the space between his fellow guards' shields and began hacking furiously at any thug stupid enough to get into his range.

-==# Raiziv Carvi #==-

Raiziv needed a drink, badly. His visit to the alienage while informative had stirred up memories he'd much rather have forgotten. So a few drinks of alcohol where needed to force the memories toward the back of his mind where they belonged. He supposed he could have returned to the Prancing Pony for his drink but the Gnawed Noble was closer so to the Gnawed Noble he went. He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly as he noticed a group of city guards entering the tavern. Under normal circumstances Raiziv would have simply turned around and gone to a different tavern or simply gone back to the Prancing Pony but he reallyneeded that drink so into the Gnawed noble he went.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the tavern was the sounds that were coming from the other room. Raiziv tilted his head to the side, actually two different sets of sounds coming from the other room. One set: thumps, crashes, groans of pain, and cruel laughter the typical sounds that accompanied a bar fight, the other set: feminine cries of fear, lecherous laughter, and husky voices making inappropriate suggestions.

so that's why the guards came here he thought walking up to the bar.

Ordering a pint of strong ale, Raiziv took a seat nearest to the bar but farthest away from the other room. Whatever was going on in there he didn't want the guards to get the impression that he was a part of it. Glancing through the doorway he idly noted that not only had the guards become involved but so had a bow wielding armor clad woman. Well she wasn't wielding the bow but rather it was sheathed on her back leading Raiziv to believe that she had another weapon. The leader of the city guards pulled her to the side creating enough room for him to enter giving Raiziv enough room to see a bit of what was going on inside. A couple of humans stood on the other side of the doorway; behind them stood a dual-dagger wielding bruised and bloodied elf, obviously one of their sources of entertainment.

Raiziv glanced at the waitress, who was doing a very poor job of pretending to not be paying attention to what was going on, as she placed his drink on the table. His attention was brought back to the potentially violent situation when one of the guards bellowed "Anyone in 'ere who's not wantin' their faces caved in would be advised to leave...now"

This could prove to be very entertaining he thought taking a large sip of his ale

Raiziv was proven right when almost as soon as a waitress, the other source of entertainment for the armored men, was escorted out of the room; violence erupted within the room. Raiziv gulped down the rest of his ale and scowled down into his mug it would take quite a bit more before he'd even get buzzed off of this crap.

Course there are other things one can do to forget he thought standing up like beat the shit out of someone

As Raiziv walked towards the doorway he reached back and unsheathed both of his weapons, a small smirk appearing on his face. Crossing the threshold he took a quick survey six heavily armed men, against three guards, an elven mercenary/theif, a dagger wielding woman, and young elf who despite having the shit beat out of him still had the desire to fight.

"tch only one for each of us…pity" Raiziv said falling into a defensive position as he filled an opening left by the guards.

-==# Kaytaryn Desmarais #==-

Kayt watched the sergeant quietly as he ordered his man, "Reynolds, if you'd be so kind?"

"Anyone in 'ere who's not wantin' their faces caved in would be advised to leave... now."

As exhausted as she was, Kayt could not resist a soft chuckle at the man's blunt warning to the patrons of the establishment. Oh yes, this 'show' will be well worth it. She paused a moment to watch as the crowd (or those who had remained until the warning) finally up and left … and quickly. All that remained were the city guards, herself and one other …. Kayt squinted in the patron's direction. An elf … and a one who appears capable of defending himself. Good.She turned her attention back to Kylon as the sergeant forced the door and began moving inside the room.

Despite the presence of Kylon's subordiantes (and Kayt had sincere concerns that the men could do anything but bellow effectively upon command) Kayt moved around behind Kylon, following him into the room. The first thing she noticed was the overpowering stench of alcohol - some of it obviously spilled on the floor, upon armor - as well as that which was imbibed. As she and Kylon positioned themselves, she noted that the Oars seemed very … unstable? Kayt snickered. That could be taken on so damned many levels with these sorry excuses for ….

She noticed the stunned elf, his back against the wall; the serving girl cornered by a couple of the mercenaries who looked (and Kayt was certain she was) terrified at the day's events. Beside Kayt, Kylon stepped forward then, his armored boots echoing throughout the space, towards the man whom Kayt assumed was the leader of the Oars. There certainly appeared to be recognition upon Kylon's features. As her comrade-in-arms moved, she looked over at the elf again and saw him beginning to creep forward, to reach for weapons with which to defend himself before moving into a recognizable defensive stance. "The shrieking finally get your attention?" he asked.

Kayt remained quiet deciding that since the sergeant was finally here, she would simply remain as backup. But when the mercenary began talking, his voice a slurred tangle of words, she realized that these men would not back down from a fight. He's going to need my help, she accepted internally. "Kylon." The venom with which the man spoke, even in his inebriated state, caused Kayt's blood to run cold.

"I'm only going to give you and your good-for-nothing crew one chance; leave now, or else we'll make you regret it," she heard the sergeant reply calmly.

Kayt kept her face neutral as she watched the scene unfold. She noticed the other Oars beginning to take notice as well. Her brow furrowing, she made her choice of action … quietly, unobtrusively moving her position (what little focus the man had was clearly intent upon the sergeant, and none of the others save the elf, perhaps, even noticed her) until she stood behind the over talkative, over bearing oaf. "On'y way yer forcin' us out, sarge, is over my dead arse."

Kayt, now standing behind the lout, peered around his shoulder at Kylon to watch his reaction. "That can be arranged, friend," she announced, her voice strong, clear and with a slight purr of authority as her dagger moved up to press lightly but firmly against his back, "if that is what you are wanting."

Her eyes upon Kylon, waiting for his command, she heard the sergeant reply, "As you like," just as he kicked out at the man's chest with his metal-encased foot. As the merc began falling, Kayt made sure he was down, planting the pommel squarely on the back of his head to incapacitate him. Then turning quickly, she watched as Kylon and his men executed a move to open up some space in which to fight. She caught a blur of color to the opposite side of the room, noting with a quick glance that Edwina had pulled her employee out of harm's way. Good … one less innocent in danger.

Kayt saw Kylon look over at her as he ordered, "Circle around them, cut off their movement! I'll grab their attention!"

Kayt didn't bother to acknowledge him, she simply responded, though she did smirk at his authoritative tone. I'll have to tease him about that later … after I apologize …. With quick and agile movements, she did as he asked. As she did so, she swore she heard a new voice saying, "Huh only one mercenary for each of us…pity," but she did not break her concentration to find out. Instead she allowed the spike of adrenaline flow through her, washing away her exhaustion for the moment as she met her target head on.

-==# Lairentes #==-

Lairentes watched the proceedings in silence, slowly moving closer towards the Oars. His hope was that they would be so focused on the others that he could get closer and take some out before they realized what was going on. As he crept forward, keeping his daggers still, he glanced back at the sergeant and recognized the man as Sergeant Kylon. The elf remembered him from his past travels in the Market District, and the word around town was that the man was hard on crime and hard to beat.

He didn't recognize the two guard and didn't recognize the woman, but he had to admire her ability to sneak up on the leader of the Oars. The Dalish tensed as the leader was dispatched and the others prepared to fight, gripping his daggers tightly as he planned out his attack. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another combatant, however, a stocky elf with scars and earrings that looked quite happy to see all the combat here. But at this point, Lairentes was only glad to see another blade on their side. "Tch only one for each of us…pity."

The Dalish grunted, and let a smile cross his face. "You'll have to work hard to get even one from me, friend." He fell silent as the two groups moved about, the guards forming a defensive line while the Oars maneuvered about to attack it. Lairentes felt his heart beating in his chest, and the beats sounded out throughout his head as he tried to pick a target. Finally his eyes settled upon the man that had been beating him earlier, preparing to charge one of the guards with a hefty axe in his right hand.

The elf narrowed his eyes and bolted forward, raising his daggers above his head to stab downwards into the throat of the thug. The man noticed his charge, and let out a loud roar as he turned to face Lairentes, a red fire raging in his dark eyes. The Dalish prepared to strike, but just as he reached stabbing distance, the man rammed out with his foot and kicked him in the stomach. Lairentes stopped right in his tracks, the blow knocking the air out of him. The thug took advantage of this and charged into the elf, ramming his arm against his opponent's neck.

The Dalish was thrown up against the wall, gasping for air as the thug prepared to cut him open with his axe. Lairentes widened his eyes and quickly grabbed his dagger, thrusting the blade towards the man's arm. His dagger pierced the wrist of the thug, and the mercenary cried out in pain, ripping the dagger free of the elf's grip and stepping back from his opponent. He dropped the axe as he bared his teeth in anger, and Lairentes prepared to drive his remaining blade into the heart of the thug.

Right before he did so, however, the thug crashed into him again, grabbing his head with both hands and throwing him down onto the floor. The elf fell down, and his attacker pulled the dagger from his wrist, spilling blood onto his legs. The mercenary grinned and knelt down, stabbing the blade downwards towards Lairentes. His heart pounding in his chest, Lairentes rolled to the side as the blade slammed into the floor. The thug pulled the dagger free and faced the elf again, preparing to charge him once more.

The Dalish tensed himself for one moment and then dived towards the thug, aiming his dagger at the neck of the Oar. The mercenary howled in anger and tried to brace himself for the elf, but Lairentes was quicker. He toppled into the thug and sank his dagger into the throat of the Crimson Oar, his other hand grabbing onto the shoulder of the thug to steady his target.

The man struggled for a few seconds, trying to throw the elf off of him, but being drunk only did so much for a man's pain threshold. Soon, he fell limp and his eyes faded into a blank stare, the life gone from his bones. Lairentes pulled his dagger free and turned towards the action in the center of the room, preparing to defend himself in his weakened state.