Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-27830834-20180707190947/@comment-27830834-20180727212657

For a moment, no one moves. Then a particularly tall Brave, his craggy face half-covered in swirling woad, steps forward.

"Words're cheap. Ya wanna meet Cassidy? S'fine. Just a 'lil matter of gettin' our money's worth first." He growls.

He gestures and the rest of the Braves slam back their drinks and stand up, belts laden with all manner of shiv and stub-shot, and yet none of them reach for a weapon. However, several do crack their scarred knuckles and grin ominously. A few of the more sober patrons, sensing the building tension, immediately rush out the doors like startled grox.

"Oh fer the love'a..." Grumbles the Bartender, quickly sweeping anything remotely breakable under the bar. "Really Erik? Really?"

The tall Brave, presumably Erik, treats you all to a yellowed, gap-toothed smile. "Really. Gonna 'ave ourselves a proper bar fight first, then we'll see..."

Then, without fanfare, he rushes forward with surprising speed, his fist sweeping towards Maxus' jaw in a savage right hook.