bakerstreet | THE FIGHT MEME

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THE FIGHT MEME

THE (august) FIGHT MEME

What else needs to be said? Release your inner warrior and partake in some epic (or hilariously bad) battles! Do you use a sword? Are you a martial arts master? Are you a wizard? Can you even fight?

It doesn't matter if you're just having a friendly spar or deciding the fate of the universe. You're suddenly filled with the urge to fight the next person you meet. Cut loose and show off your skills!

RULES

◘ Post with your character! List your fighting preferences if you'd like (Sparring, Death Battles, Anything Goes, etc.)
◘ Reply to someone else
◘ ROUND 1...
◘ ... FIGHT!

Here are some prompts to pick from (or RNG from):

1: VERBAL
Not all fights are physical. Maybe you're just really mad and really loud.

2: WUSSY
This is possibly the dumbest limp-wristed flail fight you've ever been involved in.

3: WITS
Because why would you beat someone into the ground when you can humiliate them with your massive intellect instead?

4: PRIZEFIGHT
There's an audience to watch and a prize at stake that only one of you can walk away with. Best bring your A-game.

5: SPARRING
You're fighting to improve. Whether you know your partner or whether you've
just met, you can be pretty sure you're walking away from this one.

6: GRUDGE MATCH
Your hated rival is in town. It's time for a rematch.

7: BAR FIGHT
Welcome to the mother of all drunken brawls.

8: YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS!
Maybe your opponent is your friend/sibling/love/other cherished person. Maybe
you're a pacifist. Either way, you're in this fight, but you really
don't want to be.

9: TO THE DEATH
This is it. Too much has happened for this to be anything but a fight to the end. Only one of you is walking away from this.

10: OBLIGATORY SMUT OPTION
Hate sex is the best. And some people like smut and some do not.

11: AGAINST THE HORDE
It's you and your ally against many. Demons, zombies, whatever. Rip and tear, until it is done.

12: GODMODE
You and your opponent both have world-breaking superpowers, and frankly everyone would be happier if you weren't fighting. You are, though, and it's awesome, even if there might not be much left when you're done.

13: RANDOM
Your very own personalized scenario.

Original here.

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[A trained and mutated monster hunter for hire.]

{{I got too impatient to finish all my journal housekeeping ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I had an idea for #5 but could definitely see them either fighting each other or together against some shitty humans for #7 OR #11 for witcher business.}}

[Lol this is ok! Definitely 5 or 7. I'm so torn. I flipped a coin and ended up with 7, though!]

{{#7 it is! I can spin up a starter since you did the last one?}}

[Ok!]

Eskel usually walked the Path alone and preferred it that way. Work done alone was efficient and carried only one set of responsibility. Eskel would defend someone to his last breath in the moment but the last thing he wanted was another back to watch while he was trying to work.

But sometimes an extra pair of hands didn't go amiss and splitting a work of an especially nasty endrega infestation with another witcher had been worth it. Even if that meant splitting the reward and putting up with Lambert's shit for a while. But the infestation had been expansive, one of the biggest and most aggressive colonies Eskel had dealt with and in the end he had been grateful to have stumbled across Lambert and let his little brother tag along for the job.

Now they were sore, exhausted, had mud both on and inside their boots and carried a hefty purse of the local currency each. Eskel knew better than to try their luck anywhere too fancy but a portside tavern would do without being a total dump.

He's not surprised when the room quiets down when they enter, or that the barman takes his sweet time serving them, but the jingle of their coin brings him around in short order.

Unlike his brothers, Lambert actually liked working with another witcher, when he could swing it. Contracts had been sparse as of late, though, and he couldn't really afford to split the money. However, when Eskel showed up and had asked him along to take out an endrega infestation, he'd jumped at the chance. Of everyone he'd ever met at Kaer Morhen, he got along best with Eskel.

They were nasty things, and once they were finished, he'd bitched the entire way to the tavern. About the mud, about how many of them there'd been, about little cuts and scrapes that were already healed over, about how he'd just bathed the day before and was gonna have to shell out for another one now.

And now they were in the tavern, with slow service and locals gawking at them. He wants to tell every single one of the ungrateful bastards to go fuck themselves, but he doesn't want to get Eskel thrown out alongside himself. Plus he really wants a frothy mug of ale. So he settles for quietly bitching a little more to his brother.

"Seriously, you'd think we brought the endrega back with us the way they're staring."

"Hush, Lambert." Eskel says. "You gotta get used to it sometime. You'll spend a hundred years saving their asses and they'll always hate you. That's just how it is." He inclined his head in a half bow to the bartender as he took their mugs of ale, thanking the stony-faced man. Polite as ever, even if his smile left most humans unsettled.

They found seats in the corner, where they could each sit with their backs to a wall. Eskel wasn't anticipating trouble but nobody likes having a bread crust or pebble thrown at the back of one's head while one is otherwise minding his own business.

"Don't pay any attention, enjoy your beer."

If it were anyone other than Eskel, he would've told them to shove their wisdom up their ass. As it was, he stayed quiet and followed after the older witcher, eyeing the other patrons as they passed through.

Two witchers with four scary swords apparently wasn't enough to keep the yokels from whispering. And sitting in the corner didn't keep Lambert from focusing on listening in.

"Doesn't have to be that way." He takes a long quaff from his mug, cat-like eyes meeting a pair of human ones two tables over. One eye seems to drift a bit as the human glares at him. "Like that inbred shit over there. Does he think it's my fault his mom bedded her own brother?" He makes sure to say the last bit loud enough the man with the lazy eye will hear it, even gesturing to him. The man gets up as if he's going to come have words with Lambert, but his buddy pulls his arm until he sits back down.

"Lambert." Eskel says, warning in his tone. But he's never been especially adept at telling Lambert what to do-- nobody is: even Vesemir catches lip from the youngest witcher now and again-- and he gets the feeling the most he can do now is make a token show of talking his brother down from a fight. "Just drink your beer and then we'll see if they offer baths and food. And after that we've swords to clean and I wouldn't mind getting some goddamn sleep."

The man with the wandering eye keeps staring at them however and Lambert's medallion might twitch a bit as Eskel's fingers twitch, contemplating the need for the application of Axii.

"Wouldn't be fair to the poor sod, anyways," Lambert mutters as he lifts his mug once again. A bath and food sounds like heaven right now, and sleeping inside is leagues better than camping out.

When he feels his medallion twitch, Lambert glances over to his brother with a smirk. "Eskel, Eskel, is that really a proper use for your signs? Wouldn't want the locals getting all riled up for bewitching one." When he looks back to the man, though, he's still staring. It's unnerving.

"If it means saving your dumb ass from accidentally murdering one of these morons? Worth it." He snorts, taking a draft of his beer. His casting hand, however, remains on the table, fingers loosely extended.

He doesn't like the look of the man with the lazy eye. It's like looking at a dog that's gone slightly mad. Unpredictable and too stupid to consider the consequences of its actions. However, when the man makes eye contact with him, it isn't for long. His face had that effect, he'd found. Men feared him, women...well, feared him but also pitied him. Whatever, nothing he could do about it now. Instead, the man slouched towards the table and he and his buddies began grumbling amongst themselves. Hopefully that was all they were doing.

Edited 2020-08-06 02:39 (UTC)

"Hey! I can save my own dumb ass!" Because that's the part he focuses on, of course. Lazy Eye and his buddies forgotten, Lambert shifts in his seat so he can properly face Eskel.

"I'll have you know, I was surviving just fine on my own before you came swooping in. I'm not some helpless damsel in need of a knight in shiny armor." He knocks back another drink, setting his mug heavily on the table. "In fact, I saved a damsel just the other week. From a rotfiend. She was very grateful~"

"I'm sure you were quite a prize, all covered in rotfiend innards." Eskel says, rolling his eyes and waving for another round of ale.

A skinny, gray-eyed wench comes to their table to refill their mugs.

"And I don't think you're a damsel, I think you're an idiot." He says. "The last thing I want is for us to get run out of town because your can't watch your mouth--"

"Ow, let go of me--!" It's the skinny wench, yowling like a cat. Lazy Eye's got her by the wrist and there's two mugs of ale slopped and spilled at her feet.

"You shouldn't serve them no more." Lazy Eye hisses at her. "You tell 'em to go elsewhere. They're not decent folk, they're mutants and they shouldn't be allowed indoors with real folk."

"They've paid like everybody else--OooW!"

"Like mutants do ya, girl?" Lazy Eye jerks her arm. "Will you take both of 'em at once? Assuming they've got cocks to do it with."

Eskel's back teeth grind together audibly. He prefers to stay neutral, keep out of trouble but now Lazy Eye's gotten someone else involved.

Lambert's about to try to argue back when the wench yowls. He tenses, body still remembering all the things he'd wanted to do to his own father any time his mom was hurt. Rather than waiting on Eskel to do anything,though, he stands abruptly and marches himself over to the table.

"We're not decent? You're the whoreson with his hand on a lady. You let her go, or I'll remove your hand from your arm." He pulls a rather large knife from his belt, ready to make good on his threat. Unfortunately, two of Lazy Eye's friends stand up to block his way.

"You 'adn't come in 'ere, wouldn' be any trouble, freak," one says. "Things was just fine wi'out you ugly monsters stinkin' up the place."

The tavern's gone silent around them, all eyes on the confrontation. He'd rather not gut the bastards in front of everyone, but he isn't above it.

Aaaand just like that the issue is no longer neutral because Lambert's on the move. Eskel follows behind him, adjusting his posture to look as threatening as possible, though he doubts these hayseeds have the self preservation to heed his body language.

"And yet you picked on a teenage girl instead of finding your balls and dealing with us yourself." He snorts. He lifts his hand and Lambert's medallion jerks. He's the best out of the three of them at magic and he figures Axii will at least calm most of the most offensive parties long enough for them to leave the situation.

He gets exactly one motion into the gesture before someone hurls a mug at him, clay cracking against his temple.

"Fuck--!"

Now that the first move's been made, Lambert hauls off and decks the guy directly in front of him. The man's nose cracks satisfyingly as his fist connects, and he goes right down with a loud curse. He spares a look to check on Eskel, make sure the other witcher isn't too dazed to handle himself, then turns back to Lazy Eye...

...Who's now using the girl as a shield. Fucking fantastic.

"Really, asshole? You're gonna use her as a human shield?" With her in the way, he puts the knife back in its sheath. This gives the guy with the now broken nose time to regroup and stand up, then tackle Lambert to the ground. Not the smartest idea on Broken Nose's part. He's got the upper hand, being on top as he is, but Lambert's scrappy and not afraid to fight dirty. He shields his face with one arm, while the other hand makes the motion for Aard.

Broken nose is sent crashing into the table he'd been sitting at moments ago.

"Get the freaks!" Someone shouts, right before Eskel is aware that Lambert's cast a spell. He can't even feel sorry for the human who probably has multiple fractures in his chest and back. Eskel could have de-escalated the situation-- if through uncanny witcher magics-- but they had to make a it a brawl. Humans always had to make it a brawl, could never just settle their scores alone.

Somebody on his left takes a swing and then howls in pain as his fist shatters on a Quen shield. Eskel kicks him, hard, dislocating his knee. Thankfully, he won't be in pain for long: Eskel drops him with a powerful swing of his fist and the peasant crumples into the sawdust.

Eskel reaches to help Lambert up, they'll both need to be upright if the whole establishment is going to turn on them like this.

Edited (love when my phone corrects spells to things that are not the spells) 2020-08-06 16:43 (UTC)

Lambert lets Eskel pull him up, grateful for the help so he can get back into the fray quicker. He's never been one to run from a brawl or try to talk things out. Peasants rarely cared to listen, so it was just a waste of time.

The serving girl is still being held tight by Lazy Eye, and he can tell there's gonna be a nasty bruise on her arm at the very least. He stops the man from moving with a Yrden, draws his steel, and rushes forward to hack the man's hand off. Lazy Eye screams, blood spraying everywhere, though mostly on the girl. The girl screams, as anyone in her position would, and tries to run away, but remains in place as she was trapped by the sign along with the man. The severed hand plops to the floor with a disgusting thud.

Before Lambert can sheath his sword, something heavy and wooden cracks over his head, sending him down to his knees.

(ooc: Autocorrect, it's time to learn witcher signs. >:c)

"Hey!" Eskel thinks the stool was a bit much on the peasant's part, it would have hurt someone less resilient than a witcher very, very badly. He lunges across the room, drawing his own sword, circling Lambert protectively. His ruined face is twisted in a menacing snarl, blood matting his hair from where the thrown mug had cut him.

It's all gotten rather out of hand, and there's some punches being thrown that aren't actually directed at the witchers: some of the common rabble just join into these kinds of messes for the hell of it and it never helps.

Eskel spots the peasant that hit Lambert with the rough-hewn wooden stool and levels his sword at him.

"You're gonna pay for that." He says, dropping a hand again to help Lambert up without taking his eyes off the stranger.

"Not my fault your wimp-ass boyfriend can't take a hit." The man laughs nastily and Eskel finally loses his considerable patience. He's tired and hungry and nauseated from a heavy dose of Rook before they'd tackled the endrega nest. And-- more to the point-- nobody got to insult Lambert except for his older brothers.

There's not a lot of room to swing in here, and anyone without the kind of dexterity gets beaten into witchers as children might have been a liability to any innocent parties (if one were going to assume all innocent parties hadn't scrambled out the back door at the first sign of trouble) but Eskel lunges, thrusts precisely and the man goes down, howling and having been relieved of his left ear.

Dazed, but regaining his bearings, Lambert pulls himself up with Eskel's hand, then places himself back-to-back with the older witcher. This way, none of the backwater idiots can take them unawares. The skinny wench has managed to inch her way out of the fading circle of the sign, and is presumably hiding behind the bar with the others. Or maybe they made their escape out the back. Either way, Lambert's glad none of them stuck around. He'll find her in the morning and apologize on behalf of the rat bastard that pulled her into this mess, because she at least deserves that much.

Lazy Eye, because he was trapped in the sign and couldn't receive immediate attention for his wound, seems to have gone into shock. The cut wasn't clean and the alcohol in his system likely wasn't going to help slow his bleeding.

They're also definitely getting kicked out, he assumes. There's no way the proprietor would allow them to stay after this mess, even if it wasn't their fault.

There's a considerably large fellow attempting to sneak his way closer, eyes clearly focused on Lambert's sword, and he can see a dagger in one meaty hand. He levels his sword at the man's gut and says, "Wouldn't try that if I were you. I can run you through much faster than you can get close enough to stick that wimpy thing between my ribs." The man stops, but doesn't back down.

"It's more of us than it is of you, witchers. You've gone an' got a gal hurt, on top'a the men you took down. Have your boyfriend take you outta town, or we'll burn you both!"

Lambert rolls his eyes, because he's heard that threat plenty of times. "Love to see you try it, big fella~" Taunting them probably isn't a smart move, but it gets the man to try lunging forward, affording him the opportunity to swipe at the man's ankles, which sends him right down on his face.

"You can fuckin' try it." Eskel barks and there's a burst of ambient heat, the witcher's hand a fist of barely-contained fire. "But let's not get any ideas about who might burn who here. There's more of you, sure...but you'd have to get to us first. My brother and I are stronger, faster, smarter than any three of you combined."

Somebody throws something. Eskel has half a moment to register that it's a knife before it sinks into his shoulder. It's not a very good knife-- Eskel thinks it might be from a bit of cutlery even, not something meant for killing-- and the damage isn't severe enough to worry about until they're far away from here. But it does make him curse and send a brief splash of fire skittering across the floor, so that the room reeks of burnt sawdust and their opponants must scramble to stamp it out.

"Come on Lambert, let's go. I don't want to dull my sword on any of these-- son of a bitch." He's not sure where the tall bastard came from that bull-rushes from the side, swinging another bar-stool. Eskel presses his back against Lambert's, to be sure his brother is covered by his shield. It shatters under the onslaught of the stool but stops the makeshift weapon, sending it bouncing and throwing the guy off-balance.

"Shit!" Lambert glances back to see the knife handle sticking out of Eskel's shoulder. He doesn't have time to fully register everything that's going on. It all went tits up faster than he's ever witnessed before. Which sucks, because he was really looking forward to a bath and a warm bed, even if he'd have to share the bed with Eskel. Wouldn't be the first time.

Once the shield shatters, Lambert throws a small burst of Igni to keep anyone on his half of the room from advancing. "Look, we're fucking going, you inbred bastards! Lay off already!" He nudges Eskel to get him to move, keeping his eyes on the peasants he can see.

Eskel moves in the indicated direction, the two witchers moving in tandem, their swords buying them a little breathing room as people lean away from them. Once they're clear of the door, Eskel breaks to run for their horses, who are equally annoyed at the prospect of giving up a comfortable stable and lots of at least half-decent hay in exchange for being run out of town. Eskel lays onto Scorpion just as the rocks start flying. Why do these people always have such excellent reach and aim with the fucking rocks?

Worried for his brother, Lambert sticks as close as possible. He wants to make Eskel stop and let him tend to the knife, but the rocks suddenly raining down on them and their horses prevent that. He swings himself up into the saddle of his horse, not worried about the rocks. If that's the best the villagers have, it'll be over soon. He follows after the other, his horse easily keeping up with Scorpion.

Lambert || The Witcher 3 || OTA

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