fight club time! | OTA | January 14

[bestswordmaster]

Who: Felix and whoever

Where: Goldenrod

When: Jan 14

Summary: Claude and Dimitri tell Felix there's a place where he can hone his unarmed skills to his heart's content and he's So Happy.

Rating: T for some violence
Notes: no need to match the prose if you don't wanna

 

When Claude and Dimitri first talked about going out somewhere tonight, he was not expecting this. But hell if he's going to pass up an opportunity to hone his unarmed combat skills for real in a place where there's otherwise no combat at all.

So anyone at the Fight Club tonight may notice a wiry, somewhat petite, dark-haired guy with a decent number of scars doing extensive, shirtless stretches before he enters the ring. He's kept his eyes on the various potential competition most of the time since they arrived, and most of it doesn't even seem worth taking on, frankly.

So Felix has waited until someone who looks halfway decent steps up to fight before he accepts a challenge. Unfortunately for this person, who is but a local and has not been through five years of war and a lifetime of soldiery, Felix doesn't believe in going easy on people. He's quick and agile and never lets up, has more arm strength than it looks like he should, and he doesn't care to avoid playing dirty within the limitations of whatever rules the Fight Club enforces. There's no showmanship here, no need to try to impress anyone. He just goes straight for the win, as always.

That first match doesn't last long.

Anyone who wants to interact with him here can find him at any point before or after his first fight! He'll be continuing to accept challenges if he thinks they're worthwhile throughout the night. (But very pointedly not fighting Dimitri, despite clearly having arrived with him.)

Comments

[fingersandteeth]

"Oh, our bookie is going to have a lot of fun setting the odds for you now," a pleasant tenor voice murmurs nearby, as Felix is cooling down from his first match. If he looks up to follow the voice, he'll see it belongs to a tall, broad man of middling years, with a similarly pleasant air to him, dark and bespectacled.

The man smiles at him if he sees that Felix is looking at him and approaches him for real. "Steven Durante," he says, holding out a hand to shake. "And I believe our announcer said you were Felix?"

[bestswordmaster]

Felix is sitting nearby to Dimitri, but clearly the first match has only whetted his appetite, because he's leaning forward and scanning the crowd for potentially better opponents with plenty of energy. He barely took a hit in that last one--it was a warmup, pretty much, and that's fine.

He glances over at the murmuring and stands when the man approaches, though he only makes eye contact for a few seconds to assess before he's looking out at the crowd again; he spares the offered hand a glance, too, but ignores it.

"I am. I suppose this is your place."

[fingersandteeth]

"It is," Steven says, pulling his hand back when it seems like Felix isn't going to shake it--but if he's offended, his voice does't betray it. "I saw your match. You were quite good."

[bestswordmaster]

Felix scoffs. "That was barely a match at all. I should have known better than to accept a challenge from a local." He takes a large sip from his water bottle.

[fingersandteeth]

"Well," Steven says, mildly. "I'm not a local."

[bestswordmaster]

"Is that so."

Felix gives the man another look, an evaluative once-over.

"Care for a bout, then?"

[fingersandteeth]

"Yes," Steven says. "Let me just find my partner, so that I can give him my glasses and shirt, and I'll have us put on the list. Shouldn't be more than one or two fights until there's a spot."

And he'll head off in the direction of a seven-foot-tall man, stopping to speak to the pink-haired woman who served as the announcer on the way.

FIGHT ME ANIME BOY

[lovelybottom]

It's rare to find anyone here who actually seems to know how to handle themselves in a fight. Most of them are amateur boxers, men-- and women, too, this place is remarkably progressive like that-- with little to no formal training who seem to just want to try their luck in the pit. Geralt could fight them, but what's the point? There's no use to it in terms of maintaining his skills and the odds ratios aren't decent enough to even make much coin off of betting.

Geralt has seen both Claude and Dimitri fight, though Claude has the spectacular ability to avoid the witcher when he's actively looking for an opponent, and they both seem skilled enough. He hadn't watched Felix yet, and as he gets in, well. Dimitri is more physically impressive, Claude more of a showman. Felix has decent muscle on him, and if he's part of that whole cadre, he must be trained; Dimitri had called him a swordsman.

He alters his assessment after seeing the outcome of the fight. Felix is quick and moves confidently, with little flair and great efficiency. Whoever taught him, Geralt approves, and wishes they had taken a firmer hand with Claude.

He lets Felix cool down after his match before approaching him; it's only courteous.

"You're decent." Wow, don't damn him with faint praise, Geralt. "Time for one more?"

[nastyboy]

Needless to say, Dimitri has already had his first round in the pit, and he's still deciding if that's enough or not. Really, everything went better than he thought it would. Nothing terrible happened, and, honestly.... that's the most important thing. It's why he told Felix that this was the kind of sparring he wouldn't indulge him in just yet. To know those fears are unfounded, and that he was able to let out some of his energy decently enough...

Still. He wants to adjust a little more. A part of that, he thinks, means watching the other matches.

He was always going to watch Felix's anyway, after all.

When Felix finishes up his round, Dimitri meets him with a glass of water and a slight smile. "Still as good as ever. Was that match satisfying?"

[bestswordmaster]

Felix watches him briefly to see who this 'partner' of his is, and blinks a little when he sets eyes on the man, pretty sure he's even taller than Dedue. Damn.

By the time Steven returns, he's back to watching whoever's currently in the ring with a focused look, studying their match closely and occasionally making faces when they do something wrong.

Alice is one of the two NPC employees

[fingersandteeth]

Partner as in they're running Fight Club together. (Someday, eventually, it might be the other kind of partner too, though.) And it's a little while before Steven returns, sans shirt and glasses. He's squinting a little.

"Alice says the there's one match between these and ours," he says, "but it ought to be over quickly. I hope that works for you."

Now that his shirt is off, Felix can see that Steven's got his fair share of scars.

[bestswordmaster]

Felix makes his way out of the pit after his bout with Steven and takes the water with a grateful nod, downing the whole glass in one go. When he looks back up at Dimitri, stray strands of hair plastered to his face with sweat and eyes bright with the familiar spark of a thrilling spar, he's practically grinning by Felix standards.

"It was. I can see why he owns the place."

[nastyboy]

Of course Felix would be happy here. Dimitri is glad to see it, honestly. He knows he can give Felix a lot when it comes to sparring, with the two of them doing their best to keep up with sword against lance... but once can only spar against a single partner for so long before it starts getting repetitive. For someone who takes to combat like Felix does... that won't do at all.

"He seems rather nice," Dimitri comments, holding his hand out for the glass. "I spoke to him before my own match."

[bestswordmaster]

Felix hands the glass back and wipes sweat from his brow with the back of one hand idly. "Is that so? About what?"

[nastyboy]

"He was talking about his partner, and how skilled he is at fighting." Dimitri rubs his thumb along the glass. "He was one of the fighters in the ring when we first arrived... Apparently, for skilled fighters such as he, the bets are changed so that they rely not on how wins, but how long the challenger lasts."

A pause.

Dimitri coughs into one hand, glancing away. "He also... mentioned that there are other reasons people come here, rather than to just fight or bet on the outcomes of those fights."

[bestswordmaster]

"Oh. The one who's bigger than Dedue. I saw him from a distance."

Felix narrows his eyes. "Other reasons? Like what? There is a bar, I suppose, but Goldenrod has plenty of those."

[bestswordmaster]

"That's fine."

Felix studies him again for a moment. "You're a warrior where you're from, I take it. Are you going to be able to see properly in the pit?"

BRING IT OLD MAN

[bestswordmaster]

Geralt finds him sitting down and sipping from his water bottle intermittently, still watching the other matches, although in most cases he looks bored. When there aren't trained fighters in the pit, there's really not much to see.

So when someone approaches, Felix is almost glad for the interruption--especially after seeing who it is. "You." His tone is intrigued, his gaze evaluative, as he stands. "I have time."

It isn't that Felix doesn't bristle at being called 'decent.' He knows he's good. But fighting unarmed isn't his forte, and Geralt is clearly an extremely experienced warrior. This promises to be a very instructive fight, if he's right.

...Geralt is also extremely shirtless, and while Felix hasn't paid much attention to anyone in that way tonight other than Dimitri, well. How could he not pay attention to Geralt's...everything?

Including many scars. Felix tilts his head a little. "You've clearly seen a lot of combat. The bard calls you a 'witcher.' What does that mean?"

[fingersandteeth]

"Mm, you could say that," he says. It wasn't his first word for what he was, but it would do for now. "And I'll be fine. I need the glasses to make out fine details, but I'm not so blind without them that I won't see my opponent. And I'd rather they aren't damaged in the pit."

[lovelybottom]

There is a lot of everything to see on Geralt, and while he's been shirtless-- under the impression that this is the customary way that one fights in these sorts of clubs-- Felix isn't the only one who's noticed him. He takes little pleasure in the attention, in part because he dislikes drawing undue attention to himself to begin with, and also in part because he knows already that his scars are unsightly. He'd thought that such a thing wouldn't be as noteworthy amongst other fighters, but no luck.

Even Felix, who isn't without scars of his own, stares for a few long moments. Geralt's face remains neutral as he makes his assessment. As someone who's seen plenty of war and battle wounds, it's likely apparent to him that many of Geralt's scars don't look like they were made by blades-- too jagged and uneven. And that some of them seem as though they had been stitched and well cared for while others had simply been left to heal as they were, leaving ugly, raised scarring behind.

"Witchers are mutants who were made to hunt monsters for coin," he says. "Don't listen too much to what Jaskier says about it. He takes a romantic view of everything."

Including witchers, and a witcher's work. Spouts off unending drivel about nobility and heroism when there's little about Geralt or the process of killing monsters that's either of those things.

Geralt tilts his head towards the water that Felix is still drinking. "Do you need more time?"

It would be unsporting to fight the man before he'd had time to adequately recover from his last fight.

[bestswordmaster]

"Bold of you to assume I listen to anything Jaskier says at all." Felix rolls his eyes. "But those in my world are no better, believing battle to be some heroic ideal that glorifies death." He shakes his head. "I've considered the mercenary life a few times. When the war was at its most grim. It's unlikely now, I suppose. But I know no trade other than the sword."

Felix sets the water bottle down. "No. I'm ready."

[bestswordmaster]

"Very well."

Felix doesn't have much of anything else to say in the interim before their match begins, content to simply watch the other fights, though if Steven prompts further conversation he's not averse. He just hates small talk.

[strings_theory]

Hell, there's probably way more men than there are women who are actually interested in fighting this place. Not that it's ever really bothered Jolyne, she's done her fair share of fighting both and when you pretty much have to fight to stay alive? It doesn't really matter who is or isn't in front of her, only that she's gotta find a way to win.

Which might be why she's been keeping an eye on people who clearly aren't locals and raising a brow slowly after a poor local gets their butt handed to them. This guy seems like he knows what he's doing and is no-nonsense in style. Perfect, she'd never been terribly interested in the peacocks out there.

A small hint of a smirk plays on her lips as she moves towards him, at least letting the guy get a drink and a bit of rest before doing as such. Gotta make sure to not be rude about things, right? Just ignore she's pretty unassuming at 5'8" and some change and just wearing shorts and a sports bra. Slim but pretty clearly got some lean muscle to her.

"Not a whole lot of good options out there tonight, huh? The natives always fuckin' disappoint."

[fingersandteeth]

Steven also watches along, leaning forward and squinting a bit. At the start of the next bout, the one between the previous fighters and their own, he asks, "One of your friends mentioned you were a swordsman--have you ever thought of catching a Honedge?"

[nastyboy]

Oh boy. Dimitri keeps watching the latest match, even as he answers - less because he's actually watching, and more as a distraction. "I was told that people.... like to watch other people fight while their shirts are off."