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Old February 2nd, 2013 (10:58 AM).
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Varian Sigmund- Dalenham. the Broken Keg



Varian had a plan. It wasn’t a very good one, given that the people of Vanaheim had naturally larger bodies than most of the other nations. Nevertheless, what Varian wanted to do most in this barfight was to simply observe. He wanted to watch how the others of his group fought. He wanted to see what tactics they used, what fighting styles they employed, how they used their surroundings, and maybe even how they fought alongside each other. A barfight was the perfect chance for Varian to get a good look at his new team for the upcoming job they had, and get some ideas on assigning them roles in the team based on their strengths and weaknesses. Besides, they say in Aerion that you can’t join a mercenary group until you’ve had at least one good barfight. This could sort of be like an initiation.

Of course, all that didn’t matter because of the fact that he was being targeted apart of this as well. Though he may not be the tallest or biggest Highman these patrons ever saw, he happened to be in the center of the entire entanglement, and therefore a prime target. A man came at him with a fists flailing, clearly drunk but with Varian as his intended target. As the man leaned in for a punch to Varian’s face, he sidestepped and placed a leg in front of his feet, causing him to stumble over. Varian brought him down indefinitely with a punch to the back of the head. He looked over just in time to see Alys sidestep a rather large man and causing him to run straight into the side of the tavern.

Fast. He noted in his mind, just as a bottle came flying at him. He ducked at it, the bottle instead crashing into the wall behind him. Alys was then hit on her shoulder, which he could tell was probably injured from before. Out of pain, she collapsed on the ground. Not bodily strong, Varian thought in his mind, but as he thought this, a precise kick to the man’s knee caused it to most likely break. But…resourceful. Varian was suddenly hit from behind with what he believed to be a kick to his back. He grunted in pain, and turned to face his attacker, a smaller man, and quite stocky as well. He was grinning, believing his preemptive move was all the advantage he needed to finish off Varian. Fool.

Varian intercepted his next punch, and squeezed down on his wrist, which produced a shriek of pain from the man. The man, desperate to try to free himself, launched his other arm at Varian’s face, which was also intercepted by his hand. Varian then proceeded to give the man a headbutt right to his face. The force of the hit must have immediately knocked him out, but to be sure, he picked him up and dropped him onto a table nearby, breaking it in half under the weight of the fat man.

He looked up, just in time to see Alys in the arms of another muscular patron. He thought of helping for a moment, but saw that Ava had already taken up that role. Willing to come to the aid of a comrade, He noted about her. It was good. Often, groups of mercenaries came only to care about their own lives and little or none for the others of the group. Her next move was something the likes of which he hadn’t seen…probably ever. A few quick gashes from a broken bottle, followed by a lemon on the wound. Unconventional, but effective, He thought. That would be useful, someone who thought quickly on their feet.

A bottle suddenly hit Varian on the back of the head, causing him to fall to the floor in pain. He momentarily thought he would black out, but shook his head and attempted to come to his senses. He felt the back of his head, and looked at his hand to see a bit of blood on it. Varian turned to his attacker. It was the same man from the League of Warriors that partially initiated the fight to begin with. “On your feet, Highman! I’ll take you on fairly. Let’s see how a warrior of the north fights!”

Idiot. Varian shook his head as he reached for a shard of glass from the bottle on the floor, and hid it in his hand as he slowly rose up. Then, in one swift movement, he stuck the shard right on the eye of the person. He yelled out, holding his eye in pain as blood began to flow from the wound. He flailed at a few tables around. “This isn’t a joust. There is no fair, there is no honor. There’s just you and me, and anything we want to use as weapons.” The man began to show signs of recovery from the immense pain of his eye to glare angrily at him, read to attack. Varian in the meantime, grabbed a stool, and threw it on the man, causing him to cover up, and allowing him to run right at the man and elbow him right on the jaw, seemingly knocking him out right before he hit the ground with a deep thud.

Varian turned just in time to see the dwarf Bofvar get connected by a punch to the face, but not backing down to much. Can take a punch, he observed. Bofvar was, it seems, the typical dwarf. Loud, rowdy, durable. All traits Varian liked. He felt the two would not only fight together well, but get along quite splendidly as well. That is, if he didn't end up pushing Eveamoorian daisies too soon.

Varian turned once more to get a look at Cassandra, but really, after years in her company, was there anything else he needed to see about her? She was absurdly good with her blade for her size, and able to come up with the most irregular means of fighting an opponent he had ever seen. And that was when she was drunk. Despite thinking that this barfight did give him some insight on the others, Cassandra proved to him a long time ago that what you see with your eyes isn’t always what you’re going to get. He was sure there was much more to the others, but that would have to be seen as he continues to fight alongside them, if they manage to stay alive long enough, that is.

However, as Cassandra chucked a man out of the window of the bar, it seemed like a signal for Varian that it was perhaps time to get the hell out of there. No doubt, guards would have heard the commotion by now, and were on the way to put whoever began the fray in jail. Alys seemed to figure this before Varian had to say anything, and Cass was out of the tavern soon after. To the rest of the group, he yelled after. “Oi! Come on, we’re getting out of here!” The tavern window was broken from the man Cass threw out, but as Varian burst through it a second time, a larger area was open to climb out of, easing the passage for the other three. He landed on his feet with a large thud of his weight, though adrenaline pumped through his body, he felt the minor stings of the injury to the head he had recieved earlier, along with a slight new pain on his shoulder. Taking a look at it, he noticed as a piece of glass stuff onto him from the window. Ignoring it for now, he walked over to Cass, helping her onto her feet. “Come on. Let’s move away before the guards show up.” He said, leading them over to a smaller street away from the main marketplace, and away from the mayhem of the Broken Keg.
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