{ Slight warning for blood }

{ Might follow up }

The much larger man was swept across the floor, the kinetic energy proving to be way too powerful for his sheer physical strength and large frame. “You fucking mutt.” He spat, accepting his fate as the drywall crumbled behind him. The teenage girl seemed like an easy target. What Scaramouche didn’t realize was how capable she was of fighting back and defending herself. He tried to rough her up, it’s just what he did. Someone out there wanted something out of her and he was just a middleman. But she was more than capable of defending herself so it seemed.

Before she could even begin to charge up her next attack, Scaramouche passively held a hand up while using his other to pick the rubble from his curls. “I’m done. I’m fucking done. You really think you’re worth all this effort?” He said rolling his eyes. “All that you should be worried about is that someone out there wants something out of you. And I’m no snitch.”

" honestly... this fight.... its pointless would you agree?? " limpids eyes were filled with plea has the 80s style bully shoved the glass in limpids eye. It didn't bleed but it hurt.

Limpid got up and adjusted his mirror " listen.  Apologizing isn't my thing but if it makes this situation any better sorry for calling you ' prune ' " limpid limped off the opposite way in defeat 

Shrike was but a simple woman, and there was no way for a simple woman to match with a god.

The woman landed on her backside with a sharp "oof!", and bared her teeth as she sucked in a breath. As if that would do anything about the pain that had shot through her poor tailbone post-colliding with the floor like a sack of potatoes. If only she were able to swear [or, rather, allowed herself to do so], she probably would have been screaming something along the lines of--

"I thought you would be more concerned with those looks of yours!" She huffed and puffed. She held her hand over her chest, letting out a mighty exhale as she tried to catch herself. "That is a huge bummer! ..But, I guess mirrors do a lot, and..." And, there was the matter of his arms. His four, meaty arms. Gods, it was always the freaks she underestimated, wasn't it? And so, with a shudder and a not-so-happy giggle, the woman collapsed fully against the concrete. Her body heaved with every breath she took.

And then, she whispered, "Just let me die here."

Oh.

"I cannot compare! You win. You are the most handsome man in this whole wide world." she said, almost whining, "You deserve that title! Now! You do."

thank you father for this food.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit..."

A resounding groan rumbled from the defeated Jo'Ann as she lay slumped on the diner counter in front of her, as well as her competitor. Hamburger wrappers, as well as the occasional scraps of lettuce leaves and beef juice, lay strewn everywhere while Jo'Ann struggled to not express her nausea through... Well... To say that she was defeated in the latest friendly eating contest was an underestimate. She was utterly decimated, and her stomach was probably punching her brain as a direct result of this impulsive decision gone horribly wrong (at least from her part).

In spite of the discomfort, however, Jo'Ann gave the middle-aged man a cool smile as she slurred, "But hey, uhhhh... It's all fun and games in the end though, riiiight? You had a nice time with those-" Her words were interrupted by a cough that almost sounded like a gag. "- Uhhhhhhhhhhh... Hambuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrgers, to say the least..." And Jo'Ann did mean it, in spite of the fact that she was also questioning how the hell he managed to stomach so much hamburgers and fries at once.

Maybe she'd ask Presley later on.

Stifling another groan, Jo'Ann peered over at the unfinished hamburger she had halfheartedly bitten before declaring defeat, then added, "I know for a fact that I couldn't have... Really done this shit with that tetchy prince... Ex-prince, I think... But it doesn't matter. I think I still need to clean up that ginger ale from the last time we spoke..." And though she seemed like she was grousing over the incident, Jo'Ann seemed pleasantly bemused, as she bit her lip in a measly attempt to restrain a chuff.

"I'll consider a rematch in tiiiiiiiime, because there's no way in hell that I'm going to let yoooooouuuuuu use this as something to rub in my face when I act like a dumbass. Nooooo way..."

Jo'Ann coughed once more before chirruping with her usual pomp, "But fiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrst, how about... A milkshake?" Well, not really her usual pomp. Exhaustion clearly permeated her words, but she remains lackadaisical nonetheless. "I can stomach a chocolate milkshake. With chocolate curls and whipped cream. And the tallest one on the menu too. Bet. I bet that yoooooouuuu can't dooooooo such a thiiiiiing, on the oooooother haaaaaaaannnnnd..."

Don't.

I want to compress Jo'Ann into a blender, then force her to become infused into that iced coffee she loves so much. as a treat.

thank you simon for both the revival and the response. local coffee addict gets snarky over... Starbucks.

Every day, misandry seemed more and more like a good idea.

Sure, she asked for it. She practically begged for it! She had grown used to squaring off with those bigger than herself and [sometimes] winning that reservation had long since tossed itself out the window. Floriano might have been a large man, but a brute he was not, as compared to the Yene she had -- perhaps foolishly -- grown accustomed to in such a short amount of time living in the province. Goodness knows her pride would not restrain her from challenging every pretty boy that dared to even glance past her. Nor would the lady, standing with such innocent politeness at the sidelines, waiting.

To give capoeira artists so much space is a death sentence, and Nerine, in all of the confusion the style brought upon her, was shattered. In more ways than one. Though she was capable of holding her own for... about thirty seconds, ducking and getting in a few taps to the man's beefed chest, a kick to the head was enough to put her out. The weight of Floriano's heel collided with the side of her head, just at the joint of her lower jaw. A hard smack sounded through the air, and then all was silent. The lady still didn't seem to concerned. Perhaps it was for the best she wasn't able to see her retainer get her jaw dislocated. Or her brain damaged. At least she got the swell opportunity to hear it.

Fuzzy, disoriented, Nerine staggered a foot from Floriano. She not-so-dramatically flopped onto her rear, her daze keeping her from crying out, or from realizing the gravity of her situation. It was a shock the kick didn't just put her to sleep. If God were real, however, He would have just killed her then and there, because when her thoughts started running again, that was when she also started whining.

"You son of a bitch!" Nerine shrieked, her voice choked by pain, "You broke my jaw, you bastard!" And yet, she still talked. She scrunched up her face and stuck a disgusting finger into her mouth. An iron taste filled her mouth. She spat a gob of blood and phlegm onto the cut grass underneath her. "Fucking Hell! Gods fucking shit themselves! Cow!"

Floriano was nothing like a cow. A semi-truck, perhaps, though if only either of them knew what in the fresh fuck a semi-truck even was, or the noblewoman who, at last, turned her head to "look" at the scene before her.

Defeated Nerine was, but shame was so foreign a concept that she refused to accept it. So, she continued to crow, her face and ears hot with embarrassment, that supposedly broken jaw of hers moving a mile a minute. "Candy-ass! Motherfucker! I'm sure you wouldn't be able to do shit with a blade! I want a rematch! Come the fuck on!"

This was supposed to be a friendly spar.

Welcome to Hell.

For NP: You can go for either this younger tab of Nerine, or her default older version. Have fun. Neither are about to kill another person [her older version might be more inclined if your character is a serious threat], but they both prefer friendly spars. Older version is also... surprisingly nicer when it comes to spars. Younger version is annoyingly hotheaded and arrogant, so expect her to be a boastful bitch if she beats your character. That aside? For actual combat, younger and older use a sword and a mace respectively, older wears heavy armor.

If going to a non-violent option, a drinking contest is on the table. Older can play dominoes, both of them can do anything related to exercise. [Swimming, racing, what have you. Go crazy?]

 _{I grab older Nerine}

Salvador felt the air escape his chest as he hit the ground. Blood oozed out of his nose. Vot. His hand reached for his face. Since when am I bleeding? The young thief looked up at Nerine. His eyes slightly squinted.
“You,” he breathed. His teeth had coloured crimson, thanks to his broken nose. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his breathing hasten. Salvador’s grip around his stolen purse tightened, and the thief scrambled backward. Away from her. Her,  the force that was Nerine.
How did she find him? Was she going to drag him back? No...

Salvador’s nose made a soft whistle every time he breathed. The pain, that he slowly started to register, made his stomach twist. He’d never been punched in the face before. At least, not this brutal.
“Don’t punch me,” he said. A tad too late. “Don’t kidnap me,” he said. Salvador managed to get himself seated. His gloved hand inspected his face. He flinched as  he touched his nose. Ouch.
“Why did you do that?” the thief asked the knight. The stolen purse still slang over his shoulder. “I'm just a wee lad,” he complained. The fingertips of his gloves had turn red and grey. The gravel of the street he half sat, half lay on, dusted his clothing and hair. There was no way he was able to mask this defeat once he returned to the Old Chapel. If he returned home. Salvador spat on the ground beside him. His spit had coloured dark red too.
“If it’s for the purse, take it,” he said. Salvador held out the purse towards Nerine. His hands shaking.“If it's because I didn’t help you back then. With that, pole,” he paused. Made a weird gesture with his hand. “Just ram my head into the street. I do not want to work for you.”  
--

For np: Sal is...Not strong. He uses a small shank (known as a bandensnijder) and doesn't use his magic^(tm) on people. Only in a life or die situation and even then he will hardly use it. He's a good thief though, so he can outsmart your oc. Or a good climber for a climb race? He knows everything about trains if you're interested in train-popquizes.  

--
SDKLFJ DW , thats'perfect Sal dialogue istg, (especially the stupid thumbs up he did) I loved it thank you

Being crushed by a huge ass tail is an awesome kickoff to Animal's day. Even when he started fighting.

Animal weakly peered his eyes onto Alectryon, the wolf was taking deep, huffy breaths as his body cried of soreness caused by the creature's tail. The canid stood up, still stumbling like a fawn, and wiped blood that was dripping from his nose. Animal wanted to test Alectryon's softness to see if he will actually do some sort of harm to him, and obviously it did, like a smashed cockroach. His top hat was pancaked, and Animal adjusted it to the point that he won't worry about looks. Animal sighed and elevated his head to face Alectryon, still giving out his asshole look as always.

"You can put up a fight for a softie. Nice one, but you don't scare me still." He puffed and sat down in pain.

NP: You can defeat Animal easily depending on the scenario you're going for. Bar fights are your go to route since thats what Animal is known for, but he can put up a hell of a fight with your oc.

This wasn't exactly the kind of evening Makoto was expecting, if she was being entirely honest.

She lay on the floor, shocked at how someone like him could defeat a Goddess, especially one that supposedly ruled over Life and Death. It was never her intention to get caught in some kind of bar fight, anyway. Her friend Wren had dragged her in here, for whatever reason. She'd managed to scramble out of here just fine, but of course, everything bad just HAS to happen to Makoto.

She sits up, her facial expression a mix of confusion and surprise, a tint of anger was also slightly visible. "W-What...?" She rubs her head, looking around the room. Everything seemed calm now, but her vision was still blurry, so who actually knows anymore. Then, her gaze is led to the one who did this, a wolf-like creature stood in front of her, holding what appeared to be some broken bottle that must've been smashed over her head.

Now, rage began to take over.

"How. Dare. You." She hisses, narrowing her eyes as she slowly picks herself up from the ground.

Carmine's tail was flicking behind her as she laid injured and bleeding on the ground. Smoke seemed to pour out from her nostrils, filling the air above her with a blanket of angry black smoke that curled around her horns. Slowly she rose, narrowing her eyes into slits as she stared at the Goddess before her. 

With Makoto being a Goddess, it almost made sense as to how she managed to make the Queen fall so... embarrassingly. But nonetheless Carmine was effectively enraged, and she gripped the dirt below her with her claws. There was no way she was going to allow Makoto to get away with what she'd done, but Carmine was in no condition to continue fighting. Not at the moment, at least. She could feel the deep gashed in her sides, and she felt bruised up in other places. Putting weight on her front left paw was impossible, and breathing felt like knives being driven into her lungs with every breath she took. Certainly no condition for her to continue her fighting. 

Carmine stood as tall as she could, slightly spreading her wings to make herself look larger than she really was. And although wounded, the fiery Queen looked menacing indeed even without the snarl on her face. 

"I can accept that you've won this battle." Carmine growled. "But I don't think you should expect to win them all. I hold more power than the eyes behold, and I expect that you'll find that out someday, but for the moment I quit this fighting."

@ NP: you can reply using her human form if you'd like to!! She's a weredragon after all and is more likely to be seen in her human form as opposed to her dragon form :D

lilucy

Fukagawa placed his hand down. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and then quickly downed a glass of milk, like his life depended on it. "I can't go on-" He said in a hushed voice, some tears in his eyes, still drinking milk and water, and whatever liquid he could find on the table. All except the hot sauces. The bottles that littered the table before him, red and fiery. 

The O'tsin coughed and pushed his plate and cutlery away, its contents all but spicy foods, just like the buffet around the table dwellers. "...You win..." His face cringed as he spoke the words. Even losing an eating competition was a blow to his ego. He hated losing, but his taste buds were on fire. He just couldn't eat any more spices or he feared he too would catch ablaze. Fire was an annoying thing to deal with, it spread fast, and was hard to control. A destructive power that hardly should be compared to food. 

So, the flame queen dragon ultimately was better at eating spicy food, than the spirit. He should have known, spice and fire were practically the same thing. And by himself, he couldn't handle it. Milk was his saviour, it made the spiciness go away, it could also douse fire. 

Suddenly, he felt like something was wrong. He had missed something. It took a moment to think before he realized. 

Fukagawa froze, then looked up to the queen again, "Wait... this was a competition? Right?" 

It seemed maybe he had misread a friendly dinner for an eating competition and such, embarrassed himself again in front of another important figure.