#chooseurfighter1

[eclipsecrowned]

It's always like this.

The end of a busy tenday, a clawing desire to unwind. The peace of the local alehouse, bathed in warm light and awash in hushed conversations, is just the place to drink down the last few days of struggle. With everything else going on in the city recently, at least there's the sureness of alcohol.

What a pity there's also the sureness of drunken rabble.

It moves too fast to be truly be reckoned. Whether the drunken mercenary aimed for the Tiefling and hit the pallid gentleman instead, or the pasty Elf took up arms for fair tank's honor, or simply ran his mouth a little too comfortably against a warhorse of a Human. Regardless, retribution is swift, a blast of magic from an adjacent table sending the far greater foe flying. A busted bottle of Berduskan Dark makes a thrilling appearance as a makeshift shiv.

Tavern brawls. A tale as old as time.

Other patrons scatter, the barmaid making a swift retreat for the back of house. It seems the two parties are ready to make a stand, blades drawn, fists cocked, even a few staffs retrieved. It will be a night to remember once the dust settles, and new rules are enacted by management.

A Halfling is sent soaring past you, colliding with a booth in the rear. Like it or not, you are temporarily involved in this fight.