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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"Yeah, yeah, I know. Walk the Path alone, blah blah, and all that other shit." He knows Eskel's only trying to comfort him in the only way they know how. He's still full of nervous energy, and sitting here by a piss-poor excuse for a lake in the moonlight isn't helping. So he quickly finishes stripping down to his underclothes and makes a beeline for the water.

Eskel manages to get his boots off at least and pulls off his belt to make something of a sling. It's awkward but it's better than having this pins-and-needles-and-pain limb banging around.

It's slow going but he manages to get a fire going by dragging pieces of wood into a pile one at a time and applying a bit of Igni. At least now they'll have a fire to dry out their boots, to rest beside. He settles down again to keep watch.

He can hear Lambert trying to make the most of this...lake and he watches over his brother dutifully. No matter how old they get, Lambert will always be his baby brother. The upstart, always pushing back at Vesemir, mouthing off. A pup that barks when its scared. Bitter and angry. Dragged snarling and swearing along the Path. Witchers aren't supposed to feel love but what else to was this? This protectiveness, this vigilance. Eskel knew he would die for Lambert and for Geralt if he had to, or at least die beside them. He knew he wanted Lambert to hurt less, but also knew they hadn't been raised to comfort each other and he would always be at a loss with the youngest wolf.

Once he's in the water, all the stress from the night melts away. Lambert happily splashes away, diving under as soon as he can to wash all the dirt and grime away. The light from the fire catches his eye soon enough, though. He wades back closer to the edge, pushing his hair back to keep the water out of his face.

"You gonna just sit up there all night? Come wash off!"

"Somebody's gotta watch the fire and make sure no bog hags sneak up on your ass." Eskel replies, even though with their keen senses it's quiet clear there's no such beast skulking nearby. But it's tempting and now that the adrenaline has worn off he's aware how disgusting he feels. Probably won't hurt to at least wade in enough to scrub his face and hair with his good hand.

Lambert gets to watch the supremely acrobatic performance of Eskel getting out of his trousers one handed.

"You're in charge." He tells Scorpion, before he heads for the the reedy edge of the water.

Lambert scoffs at the idea of a bog hag sneaking up on him. The fire, though, that's a potential danger. Once he notices Eskel getting his trousers off, he forgets all about it and whoops in excitement.

And once Eskel's close enough, he splashes the older witcher.

"Hey!" Eskel barks, flicking water back at him, crouching among the lily-pads to try and rinse...gross, whatever that is...endrega goo probably, out of his hair, mixed with his own blood. The cut from the thrown mug is just a tiny scab now, it will probably be all but gone by morning.

"You want to re-do this bandage, little brother? Because that's what's going to happen if you get the dressing wet." He chides, not especially good at being stern when Lambert's mood has finally turned around.

Edited 2020-08-07 05:54 (UTC)

"Anyone ever tell you you're a barrel of fun?" Lambert shoots back sarcastically. He really doesn't want to redo the bandage, though. Deciding he's clean enough, he climbs out and goes to grab his boots and trousers to rinse them out. They got the worst of the swamp ick in them. His armor can simply be wiped down later, along with his jacket.

"You should see me, I'm a regular goddamn riot at parties." Eskel snorts, watching Lambert wade back to shore. The witcher paces back and forth a bit where the water comes to waist-deep, cleaning up and generally taking in the cool night air and the blessed quiet of the woods, watching the ripple of the moon on the surface of the pond. The night in a tavern would have been nice, with the bath and the mattress (even if he would have had to put up with Lambert's kicking and elbowing all night) but out here there was none of the clamorous noise, the abundance of reeking smells.

"I can take first watch." He offers. "I'm probably gonna be awake anyway."

Lambert's well aware of how fun his brother can actually be. He wasn't the youngest Wolf's favorite just because he didn't pry into Lambert's deepest issues.

He looks up from his diligent washing at that offer. "You know we both will. Got a bottle of pepper vodka, if you need help getting to sleep later." He's always sure to have a bottle of something on him. Some nights, it was the only way he could sleep.

"Pepper vodka? Hot damn." He splashes back to shore. "See? Evening salvaged." He nudges his boots and trousers with a grunt. He weighs the effectiveness of swishing his things around one handed versus...

"Hey, Lamb! Do me a favor and get the muck off of these, will ya?" He shouts. They didn't really have rank to pull on each other, but sometimes Eskel played the big brother card. He felt somewhat justified at the moment, his arm all pins and needles but not especially lively.

"Hardly..." He's just finished washing his own things, and sharing a bottle of vodka with his brother in the woods wasn't the same as sharing a meal, some ale, and a real bed. Even if it meant a grumpier Eskel in the morning, nothing beats a real bed.

He looks up, frowning. "Thought you didn't want my help?" That's all the argument he offers, though. Eskel's injured, and he doesn't want to redress the wound so soon. So he goes and grabs Eskel's things and sets to washing them.

"Thanks." He says, and makes sure it's obvious that he means it.

It takes some tugging and snarling but he eventually gets his bedroll off Scorpion and Lambert will find him kneeling by the fire, rubbing his shoulder.

Once he's finished, Lambert brings their things up to where the fire is, setting them close enough that they'll be dry by morning. When he sees Eskel rubbing at his shoulder, and the bedroll on the ground, he sighs. "Coulda helped you with that, too. Just 'cause you're used to doing it alone doesn't mean you shouldn't ask for help when you can."

It was a lesson he'd had to learn from Aiden.

He grabs his undershirt and pulls it back on over his head, then goes to get his own bedroll set out.

"Yeah, yeah. 'A lone wolf is a dead wolf'." I promise not to tell Vesemir you've been spouting his aphorisms." Eskel teases. "Besides, you were already giving me a hand." He gestures to his shoulder. "Swallow feels like it's doing its thing. Should be mostly okay by morning."

Lambert shoots him a look at the mention of their mentor, but he doesn't press the issue. Eskel promised.

He rolls his bedroll out close to the fire, settling his pillow on the end closest to Eskel, so that his head will be near his brother's. Maybe he's letting himself be too soft, but that feels safer.

"Still, wouldn't hurt to stick close for another day. I'd hate to leave you alone and something happen to you."

"A day or two." Eskel concedes, if nothing else than to soothe away that nervous energy he can still feel coming off of Lambert. "Just in case it takes longer than expected. If it's real bad I promise I'll go home." He doesn't want to, there's plenty of work left in the season, but if the injury is going to take more time and effort to cure, he might as well pack it in a early.

Once his bed is settled, Lambert digs out the bottle of pepper vodka. It's only about half full. Not enough to let two witchers get properly stewed, which is for the best. He returns and sits on his bedroll, holding the bottle out for Eskel.

"That's smart. You know if you didn't return for winter, Papa Vesemir would wanna go looking for you." As would Lambert.

"It's not that bad." Eskel says, firmly. The idea of his brothers (if Geralt could be found in the midst of whatever his current entanglement was)-- and Vesemir (the old bastard might be responsible for the loss of his humanity, but he was the closest thing he had ever had to a father)-- searching the Continent for him (or his corpse) didn't sit right. "I'm gonna be fine. You sure you didn't crack your skull? You're not your usual cheerily-an-asshole self."

"Shut up and drink, asshole. I'm just pissed off the way everything went sideways in the tavern." He shakes the bottle a little, rolling his eyes. "Should'a just let me take that inbred whoreson out, before he dragged the girl into it."

"You should have just let it go." Eskel admonishes. "The innkeep could have dealt with it. But there's nothing for it now."

Since the other Witcher hasn't taken the vodka, Lambert opens it and takes a swig. "And let him talk shit like that? Sit back and do nothing while some poor girl gets hurt because of us?"

He knows he's not supposed to get involved, but hearing the little wench yell had brought up painful shit that he didn't want to think about.

"You can't react every time some human gets a stick up his ass! Or you'll have a damn hard time finding a bath and a bed anywhere on the Continent that's not at home." Eskel says, shaking his head. "He'd have given up or the innkeep would have intervened." He waves it off and reaches for the vodka. "Fuck it, nothing for it now."

He's tempted to keep the bottle after that, and if it were anyone other than Eskel sitting there, he'd give them a couple of choice words and walk off. But it is Eskel, so he hands the vodka over and stays quiet for a moment. Takes a deep breath, lets himself calm down. When he does speak again, his voice is softer. "I don't, usually."

"Don't what? Pick fights with peasants?" Eskel sounds sceptical as he knocks back a mouthful of spicy vodka and hands the bottle back to his brother.

"Well...Yeah, kinda." He takes the bottle back and drinks, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't get me wrong, I still talk back or mouth off, but...I was gonna let that one go, too."

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