#Bizmo's Brawlpub

[mbat]

this is something that probably only i care about when it comes to wow but like. the topic of bodies is already very much a thing, mostly in the cartoonish differences between the men and women of most of the species (primarily the playable species)

but something i think about, in general, but also when it comes to this game is weight. i know people could and would definitely say 'the characters cant be fat, theyre always doing all this physical stuff and its medieval-ish times so they dont have modern food!' but we all know thats just fatphobic ignorance of the fact that some peoples bodies are just like that because genetics or hormonal reasons or whatever else

and anyway, there is definitely characters that could arguably be considered not skinny, mainly i think of the pandaren, especially the pandaren men, but you could also say that thats just 'skinny' for them, or maybe its all the beer they drink, idfk.

but like, im talking individuals or even the option to be anything else. im not expecting a game like this to have a ton of different body shapes because the name of the game is copy and paste when you have a world as big as this, but idk its just kinda silly on some level how everyone is shaped the same

i dont really have a conclusion here, but yknow what caused me to make this post? i found out that bizmos brawlpub existed not long ago (istg if you make the fight club joke, i dont fucking care about fight club) and i decided to explore because like, im me, and since the second level isnt automatically accessible, i was clicking on the npcs up there to see what their deal was

and then i clicked on dame jesepha and was like. what race is that? she looks so different than anything ive seen? so i look her up for a better look and find out shes a human, shes just shaped differently, and its like... i didnt even know that possibility existed, that theyd actually bother to make a different character model like that, especially of a bigger woman. i mean, in a game like this? shes not even a special npc as far as im aware, shes just a random vendor

and again i have no conclusion, im just a little baffled. this game is really good at baffling me

[hhg2a]

Guide Entry: Bizmo’s Brawlpub (Location, Entertainment)

Found under the Stormwind City's station of the Deeprun Tram, the enterprising gnome Bizmo runs his Brawlpub, where groups of battle-hungry fighters have gathered creatures from all over Azeroth, Outland and beyond to participate in bloody arena deathmatches with heroes of the Alliance!

- A small blurb found on the reverse of this flyer

While the running joke of the number one rule of the Brawlpub is you don’t talk about the Brawlpub, the pitched battles that take place beneath the Stormwind station of the Deeprun Tram are widely known and often participated in to the great delight (and sometimes drunken anger) of a myriad of spectators. Featuring fighters from all over the known world and beyond, many an Alliance hero have tested their mettle against foes such as Bruce the Crocolisk, Grampa Grumplefoot, THE DOOMFLIPPER, one Bill the Janitor, and the legendary Epicus Maximus! For those who would like to just watch and not partake, the Guide cautions that sometimes spectators can get quite rowdy... and start fights of their own in the stands. So do be careful and watch for flying bottles or bits of unidentifiable food.

On that note, the bar is quite well stocked and it’s barkeep quite the mixologist. For those who want a drink with a kick, I definitely suggest a Banana Cocktail made by Barkeep Townsley.

So, if you happen to be taking the tram to or from Stormwind, I daresay it’s a stop you might want to make! - Assistant Editors Note:  BZZZZT. Blingtron 3000 owes me 50 gold and three cogwheels! 

Calculating options... Calculating... Subroutine: Activated... Loading: Payback_Function.exe

[forgottenflower]

Iridella fights against the light. @koraud

[damien-ward]

Working with a “Professional”

Thought I would do a fun short story with pics of Dardillien working with another official, licensed investigator that works for the Stormwind Guard. Here we go:

After hearing of a local break in and shooting Dardillien goes to investigate only to be met by another investigator who was assigned to investigate by the Stormwind Guard and that he will be heading the case but will let Dard tag along so he can learn a thing or two. Dardillien quickly learns that this “official” investigator is condescending and not the brightest.

Dardillien takes notes as he listens to the woman talk about the break in. She explained that the man broke in and stole a family heirloom, she shot him and he ran away. The two investigators look around and determine that the man left behind a trail of blood so they decide to follow it...

The trail of blood eventually leads them to a body near the sewers in Old Town. Upon examining the body the two discern that the man did not die from the gunshot wound he got from the woman he stole from, but rather from a knife to the neck. Further investigating reveals a note in the man’s pocket about meeting the man that hired him to steal the heirloom after he acquired the item because he had a tight schedule and needed to be at Bizmo’s Brawlpub for some business.

With this knowledge the two decide to head to the Brawlpub, but not before preparing, they needed to blend in there while they searched for the man. The search wouldn’t be too difficult for Dardillien with his sense of smell, however they still needed to blend in.

After going their separate ways the two agree to meet at the Brawlpub later, once there Dardillien is irritated to see that his partner didn’t even change. However, his blunder or arrogance, whatever it was that made him not change, paid off. He stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone paid attention to him allowing Dardillien to slip through the crowd like a ghost while following the scent of the man they were looking for.

It didn’t take long to find his mark. Returning to his fellow investigator he pointed the man out, Dardillien wanted to bring the man to justice then and there, however he kept that to himself as his partner said their work was done. Stating that they needed to write up a report and get the Stormwind Guard and let them handle it, this was their jurisdiction now. Dardillien agreed and the two went their separate ways, but the Gilnean had no intention of following through with that.

Dardillien returned home to change into his vigilante outfit and then transformed into his worgen form before returning to the Deeprun Tram entrance, to wait for his prey to leave.. He wasn’t leaving this to the guard. He wanted justice, his way.

Bonus Shot: Going for the kill

[thalsianiii]

Just imagine it. A world where Asphodel and Percival are villain friends, how do you think a friday night hang out would look like?

Friday night hang out? Its the weekend time to get lit fam.

Drinks in Bizmo's Brawlpub where ol Percival is a high roller. Homies get bottle service while they look down on the mundane killing each other in the pit.

Then after fixing some fights and raking in the cash, hit the town and fling curses of impotence at Chads in the bars of Stormwind so they can't get a boner when they pick up some girl.

Then go home, throw on the radio or whatever Azerothian Netflix is and the three of them (obviously @cypris-thalsian would come along cuz she likes to party) eventually pass out.

[emily-barker]

⭐️

Emily and Dardillien haven’t seen each other since she assisted him in his investigation into the murder of a fighter at Bizmo’s Brawlpub. She’s not one to look people up, but if she were to run into him at the Pig and Whistle, she would absolutely recognize him and want to catch up over burgers and beer. He’s the sort of guy she’d want to swap stories with every now and again, always over greasy pub food.

Thanks, @dardillien-ward!

[riizev2]

Riize’s Second Journal: Entry 2

Two days after Entry 1

In the training gym within Bizmo’s Brawlpub, Stormwind City

——– 

I finally got this damn book to stop recording my exertion sounds. It is definitely more sensitive than I give it credit for. Somehow it’s picking me up over the music and the clang of metal weights. Probably look like an idiot trying to record myself while working out but fuck it I have stuff on my mind. Sometimes you just gotta get it out while you work the bag.

I can feel my strength returning to me. Eating well with Aurelia and Joskinar helped me fill out. I saw a picture in my old journal of how I looked as a Lady’s Hand and I am shocked I hadn’t died of malnutrition. I understand why Saelkath looked the way she did now. The Void can sharpen your focus and your magic but your body will always hold it back. I remember hearing her talk about trying to transcend and escape her physical form. I understand better now.

I don’t have the same philosophy on it as she does. I think having a strong physical form is important to keeping oneself grounded. The more I let my body be sustained by shadow the more I drifted out of reality. I’ve started doing some of the daily exercises in the military again to keep myself sane. Mostly a morning jog around Stormwind while the sun is low so my features blend in more. The first light and a cloak do wonders in hiding my mutations from others.

It’s the eyes, really. I don’t know where to even begin on this one. Ever since I first noticed something was wrong at Voidsong Manor I’ve been having these aberrations follow me. It’s like a slit in reality that opens up to reveal itself. They have that familiar orange cat’s eye against a purple background I’ve grown so familiar to. They don’t ‘do’ anything other than follow me. I’ve looked in the mirror and they seem to follow my gaze, usually. The only time they don’t seem to do that is when I’m nervous or anxious. Then they look at me. It is the worst when they look at me.

Everyone sees them. Eilithe, Reveria, Crim, No’Vindere... they all see the eyes. No’Vi thinks the key to freeing myself from them lies in mending my mind. By going into it and piecing back together the broken fragments. It might involve fighting off hostile emotions; possibly even Voidspawn. I’ll need a partner for this, and I don’t know who to pick. Going alone to face my own worst fears would be a recipe for disaster. Logic would dictate bringing in either my wife or husband, but if something were to happen to them while mending I would never forgive myself. Choosing someone strong-willed like the Arbiter would be my best bet. Someone who I can trust. Then again, letting her in means letting her see all of me, including my thoughts about her...

No’Vi’s a weird one. I talked to her today at the tea shop. She’s severe and extremely frank in her wording but she knows her stuff. She’s battled the Void before and succeeded. What she said still worries me. It took her years of abstaining from shadow magic before she felt fully in control again. Over a decade of strict therapy and training before she could even begin casting once more. I worry I don’t have the will for that. Though maybe I don’t need to...

I’ll think it over. I have the punching bag for another twenty minutes before I have to give it up. Going to make the most of it.

[noonmutter]

11. Share your favorite quest line or lore tidbit.

For all that I mock the shit out of it (and at most points it deserves it), I did enjoy Val’sharah’s storyline. It was a downer like whoa for every elf and druid ever, and it sucked for Leon in particular because it was his first foray into doing Major Big-Time Druid Things™ and it ended with him helping kill Ysera (Leon was canonically part of the force that fought Xavius in the Nightmare and comments frequently on how bad satyr meat tastes), but it was actually pretty solid.

And, of course, there’s Suramar. But everybody loves Suramar, as they should, except for the ending where apparently Mean Girls took over and caused the nightfallen to join the horde (Even if you’re horde and glad the nightfallen are yours, y’gotta admit, that was a really fuckin’ stupid justification for it).

Far as favorite lore tidbit… I wrote out this bit of gross fridge logic once: if your character has ever been to Bizmo’s Brawlpub and fought the main ladder, there is a nonzero chance they know what it feels like to step in shark poop.

[consider-things-done]

Reunification.

Time had past long since that rendezvous of two sitting above the gore-stained, scorched fighting pit of the Brawlpub belonging to none other than Bizmo. How a gnome had the gumption and willpower to start a fighting ring that had lead to the deaths of not only humanoid competitors, but also grandiose creatures such as a flaming avatar of a djinn or a giant cobra that grew larger the longer it had been exposed to the elements, he did not know. Something must have snapped in the little fellow that stood about three feet tall. Perhaps it was the general spurn and mockery against his people that led to this figment of bloodshed that he undoubtedly received pleasure and large monetary sums for? One could not say, yet always have that falling doubt lingering in the back of his mind as the determined what the initiative such a person would have. Nevertheless, the roguish fellow managed to once more dip into the coalescing shadows that wrapped around his form like a well and tightly-knit cloak that hid him from those that sought him, as well as the area and its many, many challenges. He had spent the night, sipping whiskey from that bottle with a familiar figure of a near-bare woman and even then, his eyes recalled all of the events that had happened the nights and mornings prior. A slow rise of a subtle, half-cast smirk wrapped around his features as a steady stream of a heated breath from the depths of his lungs was expended past those slightly-tattered, smooth, crimson-colored mounds of flesh that often expressed a general sense of unannounced and unseen disdain for others. Recently, they had began to rise upwards and outwards in the form of a smirk or grin. It was a sensation that came naturally to his sun-touched features despite not actually feeling anything similar to joy or appreciation. Besides the occasional interaction with those that he had not yet found a reason to expend, he had actually began to feel the subtle rise of satisfaction ebbing into the void that he had held within himself for...well, a few years, now. At the thought of it all, his brows as black as the flapping wings of a raven, moved upwards and across his facade as he considered things around him, done and complete. Yet even as he began to settle down in his own domicile, did he stand wary of not only himself, but of someone else that had entered unseen and unheard. The hairs that stood on the back of his neck bristled as he felt his own adrenaline drop from the releasing of his adrenal glands and as his hands moved to dip towards the slender shell of throwing dagger, he turned and slipped it from its sheath and threw the fast moving blade through the air, only for it to hit into the wall next to a figure wrapped in the very Shadows that he contained himself in only hours prior. The figure that sat in the chair, looked at the man with a dark, deep, purple vibrant gaze that fluttered as he viewed the man in his darkened leather armor and the mask that was bunched up at his throat. What resounded forth from the seemingly male figure was a hollow laughter, monotone and unyielding in its volume before the words were uttered out to him. “Young Ralphaldo. Ever so persistent in taking and snuffing out the life that burns brightly in others. Yet, what can you do, when your mind and your body, your reflexes and intentions have all been characterized, calculated and absorbed by one that has and continues to watch you? What do you do?” The rogue yielded then as he listened to the figure that had even evaded him, one so capable and intent upon discovering everything and anything about everybody. A rise of something akin to slowly boiling hostility and agitation arose in the typically cool-headed, quick-witted cutthroat as he was very clearly, outmatched. He said nothing, but pursed his lips as the figure across from him pointed down unto the seat and spoke a single command. Sit. And so, he did, unhappily with a cross of his arms against his chest. “What do you want from me?” The rogue spoke out to the figure that seemed to shift about as the material that made up his figure writhed at the question and flooded about until it smoothed into singular sheets that flowed with no beginning nor end. Humorous laughter rumbled forth that deafened everything in the room as the manifestation of Shadow tilted its head about. “What do I want? Ah, a question that came forth from bloodied lips of a broken shell of a man as he bled out atop a mountain, painting the snow around him red.” The black and purple form writhed, shifted and something akin to a grin was shown in the midst of where a figure’s face should have been. “Pitiful as you were, I have come, as I always do for a celebration of our accord, the binding that we made. A pact written and signed.” Ralphaldo paused and let out a slow sigh as his jaws ground together and then flattened atop one another. Of course. How could he have forgotten the first of many reunions with this aberration of a creature? It had happened year after year, a continuation of conditions that were met in accordance to the demands of someone that offered a gift, but with no price. “...Ah, yes. I am to be perpetually hounded and reminded. Of course.” A rumble was heard then as the air hissed and popped as the fabrics of time and space were rendered and before the man was but a tear in the rift that separated one realm and plane of existence from another. Out from the darkness created, came a floating etched, silver-inlaid, gem-encrusted, dome cake plate, along with a few saucers, forks and knives. There, within, as the cake plate landed upon the nearby table, a large, rich, dark chocolate cake, layered and layered in buttercream icing stood, with candles made of black wax shoved into the top of it stood, with the purple flame of the candles standing upon end as if there was no air, breeze, breath or otherwise impeding variable to hinder the burning. The figure in the chair moved his arms as the fingers of his own form bridged together and a slow, unyielding, uneasy and sickening grin formed that revealed a maw of sharpened rows of ravenous teeth. In the silence that took over the room, the creature’s eyes closed, then opened. “Happy Birthday, my boy.”

[saile212]

ISA - Character Sheet

// Basic Information //

Though born in the bustling port town of Southshore, Vinarei grew up traveling across the open seas with her family. Following the path of her father, the woman assumed responsibility as Captain of The Mist Cutter when he passed, and began to make a name for herself as one with the ability to retrieve even the most difficult, ancient relics to find. With a thirst for knowledge that fed her inquisitive nature, the thrill-seeker continues to seek adventure and challenges most would refuse.

Full Name: Vinarei Brooks

Nicknames: Vin, Vinny, Boss

Age, Height, Weight: 28, 5′9, 145lbs.

General Physical Description: Lightly tanned skin, long black hair, hazel eyes. 

Distinguishing marks: A scar runs diagonally across her face, from left brow to right cheek. A trio of runes run vertically along her outer right thigh, pulsing with gentle shades of dark purple.  

Facial Reference (if any): A loose claim of the image above, belonging to Heather Ann Davis, a simple placeholder until new art comes in!

Orientation & Relationship: Straight; in a relationship with Kotaj Seville ( @the-rogue-kota )

Known Affiliations: Co-Owner/The Handler of Ivory Sail Acquisitions ( @ivory-sail-acquisitions ), Brawler at Bizmo’s Brawlpub

Family Ties: Both parents are deceased. Two siblings, both older than Vin (open to be played by another). Cousin: Gerald Creed ( @geraldcreed ). Atticus Andrews ( @atticus-angus-andrews ): Nephew, though unknown to both at this point in time.  Vinarei very much considers those she works with/employs to be a second family. 

// In-Depth Knowledge //

Personality Strengths:  Confident, Calm, Adventurous, Loyal

Personality Weaknesses: Prideful, stubborn, Rash

Personality Synopsis: Vinarei is a caring women, never reaching a limit of what she wouldn’t do for those she loved. Though she is a friendly woman, and quick to smile and laugh, she has a sharp mind when it came to business, and had a difficult time backing down from a challenge. Few can intimidate the woman, and she’s been known to give second, third, and fourth chances to those she deems worthy, even if a lost cause. 

Education: Vinarei’s parents had a tutor for each of their children that traveled with them on The Mist Cutter. Depending on their location, they’d spend weeks or months at a time with locals, and those who specialized in one subject/field for a more in-depth view and understanding. Vinarei is intelligent, a quick study, and has a thirst for knowledge.

Upbringing: Growing up, Vinarei had the opportunity to see the world. Her father was a dungeoneer, her mother a runemaster, and they gave a prime example of what a marriage and a family should be like (in her eyes). A close-knit group, her father’s crew were carefully selected throughout the years and became a second family to the woman, which is how she now runs her own company. She was once close to her older siblings, though at the death of their parents, each went their separate ways for the time being. Her father always played into her inquisitive nature, sharing her thirst for excitement and knowledge, often finding the two to be hand in hand. Along with the addicting thrill and exhilaration of a hunt, Vinarei took to wielding and manipulating shadows with just as much enthusiasm. Though born in Southshore, their family traveled more often than not, taking up residence in various towns and villages along the coasts for weeks or months at a time before moving on to the next adventure.

Primary Motivators: Achievement, love, adventure, knowledge.

Emotional Disposition: Optimistic, joyful, caring, devoted.

Interesting Facts: Vinarei owns a single dress, and had never worn one up until just before Hallow’s End. She has a little black fox, Seabee, that follows either her or Kota around. Vin has a horrible coffee addiction, but thankfully there’s a fantastic coffee cart just around the corner from the office. While she prefers to use her fists/feet/legs/etc in a fight, she carries two custom-made chakram styled weapons to use if needed. She also can play the guitar quite well, but few have ever heard her, even fewer have heard her sing. 

// RP Interests & Hooks //

Brawling: Vinarei is a known fighter in Bizmo’s Brawlpub, the woman often using nothing more than her fists when it comes to giving a show. She enjoys the thrill, enjoys the victory, and can enjoy simply watching the crowd and fights just as much as participating. She’s not one to shy away from a challenge, and has taken up fighting outside of the arena upon contract. 

Adventure: Always looking for adventure, Vin will rarely say no to a contract, so long as she knows the full risks ahead of time. Relics, monsters, weaponry... she’ll take on nearly anything.

Competition: Who doesn’t enjoy a little competition from time to time? Vinarei is very competitive, though is not a sore loser. Individual, company to company, etc.

Collector: Vinarei is an avid hunter and collector of various relics. Those she doesn’t deem worthy of collection are sold on the black market. 

OOC Notes: I’m absolutely down to set up a competition between guilds, or individual players/characters. Always open to meeting new people, and I can run with nearly anything. Looking for business opportunities, mercenaries for hire, competition, friendships, and familial ties. 

Tagging for completion: @the-rogue-kota @atticus-angus-andrews @geraldcreed @ginnyseng @kaidenblackwell @lahthesubtle 

[spiesty]

[A-RP] The Spiesty Dating Service

Missives are posted up all over Stormwind, perhaps to a ridiculous extent. They're pasted on the sides of buildings, nailed to trees, and passed out to just about any unsuspecting citizen in town.

Scrawled upon the bright pink surface of the flyer is a lovingly handwritten message:

"Having trouble finding love? Looking for a fun night with a stranger? Or just curious to meet someone new? Contact Spiesty of Stormwind with your profile: Gender, Race, Preferred Gender, Preferred Race, and Preferred Venue- and you'll be matched with another mystery person and sent to the romantic evening of your dreams!

ALSO: Come to Zapbolts Club and Casino at 6:00 PM ((ST)) on Sunday, November 5 for Spiesty's Single Mingle event!  There will be spin the bottle and truth or dare and drink served.  You don't HAVE to be single to attend, but it is highly recommended! ((Proxy for Bar is Bizmo's Brawlpub))

((Contact by in-game mail: Spiesty

You can also post below.

This is a service offered FOR FUN in hopes of stirring up RP among people who otherwise might not have met. Spiesty may hook you up with a good date OR a bad one- either way, she hopes to make an interesting story and experience. No OOC disappointment or frustration is intended. Spiesty DOES screen her sign-ups and will not add people to the rotation if they seem to be only interested in trolling her clients. If you are ever trolled however, PLEASE contact me OOC so that this person will not be allowed to sign up again.  

How it works: Mail Spiesty your profile, or talk to her in person. She will take note of your gender, race, preferred gender, preferred race, and preferred venue. Then, she will match you with someone else that [i]generally[/i] fits your description. From that point, she ICly sends you and your mystery partner to the same place at the same time.

You will receive an in-game mail confirmation of the person's OOC in-game name that Spiesty set you up with, and you can either OOC contact them from there to arrange your time, or just wait for Spiesty to set you both up ICly. The second method will be a little harder to arrange due to working around OOC schedules, so you're advised to contact your RP buddy yourself!))

[jakefletcher]

   (Bartending Tonight

“Zapbolt’s Club and Casino”

“Wayward Sailor” will be providing bartending services for the Grand Opening of “Zapbolt’s Club and Casino” taking place tonight. Everyone is welcome to come enjoy a game of chance, plentiful drink and great food in great company. Doors open at half past four bells sharp. Hope to see y’all there!

Sincerely

Jake Fletcher)

(OOC note - the Grand Opening for the Casino will be at 4:30 p.m. server time and will be held at Bizmo’s Brawlpub.)

[jaegertango]

The Biggest and the Strongest

I haven’t written some Sigmaine in awhile. So here he is punching stuff with his best buddy in the Brawlpub. These drabbles always come out a lot shorter than I hope them to be.

They still hadn't fixed his seat.

Soren Sigmaine shifted about upon the metal bar stool once more, and it squeaked noisily at his slightest movement. For several months, he had not come to the seedy underdome of Bizmo's Brawlpub, and the dimly-lit club was still as filthy as before. Everything about the Brawlpub screamed that it was a den of violence, from the stained walls to the raucous individuals throwing bottles on occasion. The human had thought that, with the uprising of the Legion, that the gnome owner would find it upon himself to maybe go to church or change his socks. Unfortunately, it seemed like it would take more than an apocalypse to change Bizmo, for the tavern still smelt and looked like an amputated foot.  Even for the armor-clad warrior, the place had a reek that not even nostalgia could properly mask for him – he did not miss that stench at all.

However, the Draenei monk that was sitting beside him, he had missed greatly, even if Xolphiea was wrinkling her nose with the same minor distaste that Soren was behind his horned helm.

“I don'tremember this place stinking so badly,” she muttered, and took a swig of her drink. The tankard she held behind her calloused and roughened knuckles warned she was drinking, but the light sifts of steam streaming from the steel lip explained she was drinking tea. Sigmaine was surprised that there were beverages not drowned in alcohol, but he had to hand it to Bizmo: it only took the barkeep ten minutes to find a dirty case of tea leaves in comparison to the two seconds it took her to find the tap for Soren's ale.

“Gonna be okay?” The zealot rasped in a low growl, his voice crackling with the tone of a man who barely spoke. With a small smile, Xolphiea reached over and gently patted the top of Soren's helmet.

“This smell is strong, but I'm much stronger,” she responded confidently, though she was quick to hide her nose in the depths of her tankard once more.

Sigmaine nodded simply, his eyes leering to her bare shoulders. Once more, she was clad in dark crimson leathers meant to give her strong body as much room for movement as possible. It meant that her tough biceps were on display, as well as her even more powerful thighs. The vest strapped to her torso was open in a v-neck, exposing a great amount of cleavage that strained with the heavy weight of her breasts. Combined with the fact she only wore thigh-high leggings to shroud her broad hooves, this would have been distracting – to the Crusader, he saw only a warrior built on agility and power alike. Speed was something that he did not have much of; his smoldering, black platemail was extremely protective and bulky, but only allowed him to move in short  bursts of power. It was no wonder that the Draenei often won their spars.

“Name should be called s-”

“WHY DO I SIT?! C'MON, WHY DO I SIT?!”

Soren was interrupted crisply by a shrill shout from the lower level of the Brawlpub, calling out to nobody in particular. Xolphiea looked down towards her mug, groaned, and then looked over to Sigmaine in annoyance.

“I just got this!”

“We'll go fast,” the human grunted, setting down his own tankard on the bar.

“WHY DO I SIT?! OI, WHY DO I SIT?!”

The yeller was adamant about getting his message across, his piercing call echoing every three seconds in the tavern. Snickers and jeers screamed back at random, but both Monk and Crusader were silent. With a graceful leap, the Draenei did a soaring backflip from the open balcony, landing just before the human who was bellowing. Most of everyone in the vicinity flinched, only to hoot and holler at the Monk as she stood almost two entire feet over the caller's head.

“Why do I sit?” She asked curiously, cocking her head.

“Why do I sit?” Came the steady response, and the human clucked his tongue sharply, scratching at his parchment. “Couldn't have thought of a better name?”

Before the Draenei could respond, a much more thunderous crash of metal exploded beside Xolphiea, her companion who stood several inches shorter than her making a much noisier landing. The few that had tried to sneak up on the Draenei to get a closer look at her rear was immediately blown away by the sheer impact the zealot had landing next to her; all while she was unaffected.

“No,” he growled in answer for the Monk, craning his neck about readily.

The Brawlpub caller just shook his head, entirely unfazed by either of the two fighter's entrances. “Any sort of name for glory, and you do THIS. Bizmo knows how to pick 'em.”

The Monk merely shrugged and pointed towards the lowered pit behind him, the colosseum for the matches. “Can we-”

“Just GO, you wankers!” He hissed, and the Draenei smirked as she did another agile flip over the railing and into the pit. Soren was quick to follow, though it was with less grace and more metal crunching under his boots as he drew his familiar greatsword Koldraigzharr over his shoulder and circled his right arm around to loosen it up.

In the lowered area of the Brawlpub, just about every one of the dull lights were focused onto it. It made sure that every second of the fights could be seen as brightly as possible, that no inch of gore was spared from sight. Of course, it also revealed just how scarred the walls were, how torched the steel floor was, and overall how badly Bizmo cared for his Pub's death pit. The owner himself was flying above everyone else in his gyrocopter, the gnome's shining grin and curly mustache made less handsome by his shifty, dark eyes. The only thing less obvious than his unsettling smile was the racket echoing from the twin boomboxes jutting from the bottom of the hovering craft, allowing him to announce to the betters and participants as he always had.

“AllllllRIGHT, bets are closed and final!” He buzzed through the microphone merrily, and a pair of spotlights danced into the pit to signal another fight. A rowdy cheer swam through the fetid air, and more of the onlookers began to approach the railing. “Our next round is a crowd favorite! You know it, you love it, and I got paid BIG money to bring it back! So ready your pockets boys – it's the Tag-Team-Tussles!”

Another hooting cheer, and Xolphiea scratched at the back of her dark hair, looking down towards Sigmaine with a slightly-baffled look. “I don't remember this place being so fake either...”

“IN THE FIRST CORNER!” Bizmo boomed, twirling at his mustache as the spotlights focused primarily on human and Draenei. “Maybe ya've seen 'em, maybe they've given ya glory or empty purses! One's got enough kick to make our swill look like water, the other's living on a prayer – to rip and tear your guts! Get yourselves ready boys! IT'S – are you fucking kidding me – WHY DO I SIT!”

The next round of thundering calls were also scattered with whistles as Sigmaine steadied his claymore, helm focused on the other side of the pit. Xolphiea merely massaged her hands, propping herself into a more readied state.

“AND IN THE OTHER CORNER!” The Gnome roared, the spotlights rearing away from the brawling duo to center on the other side of the pit. “Two newcomers, proud to spread their gore-y! One's cunning but brutal! The other's brutal but cunning! That's right! They're mean, green and sure as hells aren't lean – IT'S KROM AND KROG!”

With the end of Bizmo's call, two monstrous forms suddenly rocketed from seemingly nowhere into the pit. Their green-skinned bodies were tremendous, the Orcs both far more muscular than Sigmaine's bulky form, and their eleven-foot frames towered over even Xolphiea. The few parts of their hulking frames that were covered were by scarred platemail, though the rest of them was left open to reveal their incredible girth. In fact, it was impossible to distinguish the two apart besides their two nameplates emblazoned upon their collars: one that read “KROM” and the other that read “KROG.” The Orcish dreadnoughts were quite proud of their size too, for their dull, deep laughter boomed through the pit like a thunder's snarl.

“DA STRONGEST AN' DA BIGGEST! DAT'S KROM-

“-AN' DAT'S KROG!”

As the two Orcs flexed prominently at the staring brawlers, Bizmo's voice bellowed from above.

“Same rules as always! One-on-one y'hear? Hold out your right arm to tag your second in. Let's have a good ol' fashioned bloodbath, eh?”

Xolphiea looked over towards Sigmaine, and he nodded simply, backing towards the closest corner of the pit and giving her the respectful option of the first punch. It took several more seconds after, but eventually the greenskin named KROG also stomped backward, still chanting and cheering at the same roaring volume as before. The raucous crowd had nearly doubled as they lined the railings, booze splashing around their lips as they did so. The air was a sweaty mix of heat and alcohol. Even as Bizmo bellowed out once more, his boomboxes seemed awash in the atmosphere as he called out:

“BEGIN!”

No sooner did he finish the n in that word that the Draenei was attacking. KROG had no reaction as she swiftly leaped at the Orc and brought her hoof across his jaw in a cyclonic kick. The wet, sickening crunch of the blow grossly crackled through the air and garnered several gasps from the audience half a second afterward, but the green giant barely noticed. He merely grunted, backing up a single step, and raised both of his arms up to crush Xolphiea under fists bigger than her torso.

“KROG CRUSH!” He howled, but at the apex of his smash, the Monk continued her attack. With another jump, she stepped up onto the Orc's tough stomach, and used the leverage to propel herself upward and uppercut the colossus of green in the jaw once more. It was another powerful blow that surged through the pit like a wave, but once more, KROG showed no sign of being affected too greatly. The warrior simply backed another stomp, and an irritated roar grumbled in his throat. The purple-skinned fighter was not stopping though, whipping her hands around the Orc's knifelike ears to circle atop of his head, and then use the same leverage to swing her body's momentum to his back. Even for how much weight her foe head, Xolphiea's strength was enough to unsteady KROG and hurl him to his back in a suplex. The Draenei monk landed far more lightly, exhaling softly as she readied to  bring her hoof down entirely on his face, but she froze as she swiveled around to her peripheral vision – and saw KROM cackling wildly as he rocketed towards her in a full-body tackle. She wound back her right fist to somehow defend herself and back away-

-and felt a light tap as Sigmaine came barreling from behind her, meeting KROM's tremendous bodycheck with his much smaller form. Despite the size difference though, the human was meeting every ounce of the Orc's strength, though that may have also been due to that the newcoming greenskin was also latched onto one of KROG's hands. The amount of jeering raining down upon both sides was enough to make Xolphiea scramble back to safety and let Soren fight his own battle as he silently stood his ground. KROM trumpeted furiously, and brought his free hand sideways to slug at the Crusader, but he moved faster. Revolving in place, he was able to shove off the Orc for just a second to swivel around and slash at the giant with his Koldraigzharr. For how heavy and long the blade was though, it was barely able to carve into the Orc, scratching the colossal brute minutely. Still, a shower of blood that was a shade too bright splashed out onto both the ground and the zealot himself, and KROM bellowed more out of anger than actual pain. The Orc was able to catch Sigmaine off guard with a savage backhand, but for how fast the blow was, the human was able to retreat only a few steps as he grunted gruffly in surprise. Keeping his sword slung low, Soren charged towards the Orc without a second breath, winding up to stab that offending limb into one of the walls with a powerful thrust. As KROM roared in actual pain, the zealot abandoned his sword to snatch onto either ends of the first wound he had slashed into the Orc, his fingers digging knuckle-deep into the flesh and ripping outward to tear the gouge even bigger. It would have been a horrendously-wicked display-

-had KROG not suddenly snatched at the human in one of his meaty hands. He now had two humongous Orcs bearing down upon him as KROG roared triumphantly, his clublike foot pinning the Crusader to the ground as he gripped at his ankles, intending to pull the human into two bloody chunks.

But he never got the chance. Before the towering giant could pull, Xolphiea came soaring from the heavens, bringing the back of her hoof down upon KROG's head and stumbling him with the sickening crunch of her mighty kick. Not even the Orc could keep his grip from the concussive force of such a blow, and Soren swiftly scrambled to his feet unharmed.

“IF YOU FOUR ARE GONNA BREAK THE RULES, YOU BETTER FINISH THIS FAST!” Bizmo roared through the speakers, only just audible above the rowdy cheers of the audience. Now Xolphiea stood beside her blood-soaked companion as both KROM and KROG leered at the two with absolute hate burning in their scarlet gazes, as bright as the blood drenching zealot and the pit.

“I'll handle the ugly one!” Xolphiea grinned widely, ignoring Soren's inquisitive stare as she rushed ahead, seemingly picking KROM at random and storming the Orc with a barrage of blows. Inspired by his guardian angel's enthusiasm, Sigmaine also charged, meeting the wounded Orc once more with Koldraigzharr alight. For someone with a stab in one of his palms and a leaking gash in his side, KROG was just as hearty as before, bellowing like a typhoon as he pounded the ground beside the zealot, and the shockwave was enough to make the entire pit shudder like water. Luckily, the human had thought correctly, and had instead leaped into the air at KROG'S toothy maw. Unaffected by the quaking ground, his boots smashed into the Orc's bare chest, and he cleaved at the giant's collarbone viciously. The human easily had enough power to separate most heads from their shoulders with such a strike, but in this colossal brute's case, it did little more than cut simply into him. KROG nonetheless thundered in pain, showering Soren with another dose of high-velocity blood spray and spit, but he refused to stop. Whipping his claymore downward, he did a short hop and wrenched his arms towards the giant's shoulder, attempting to drag it entirely down the Orc's side and at least remove one of those dangerous arms. While he succeeded at digging the steel two feet inside of KROG, the sword got stuck instead, and the Orc instead toppled in baffled agony. Not ready for it, the human fell aside clumsily as KROG bellowed horribly – and repeated it as KROM collapsed on top of him, Xolphiea's hoof just above his fist-thick jugular.

“THE BOYS ARE DOWN!” Bizmo yelled, and a true combination of cheers and curses swam in the fetid air. “WHY DO I SIT WINS!”

The Orcs groaned gruffly, still definitely alive, but not moving very quickly. Leering over towards the fallen warriors, Soren eyed up his blade warily, as it was still buried in KROG's shoulder but changed his gaze as he offered a hand to help Xolphiea down from her victorious pose.

“You're getting sloppy on me,” she chuckled, smiling to him as she took his bloodstained hand. “Hope my tea's not cold!”

Amongst the wild crowd, among which six different fights of fury and joy had broken out, Sigmaine followed Xolphiea's lead and moved back to their VIP bar on the second floor. Surprisingly, it took a minimal amount of shoving as the two made they way back, and the life fluids were still wet on the human's dark armor as he looked joyfully towards his tankard, straw still offering itself for him.

“Still warm!” The Draenei happily stated, already drinking from her mug as Soren reached for his own. “Well... maybe a bit lukewarm. Should've went faster, Sig!”

Soren merely looked up from his tankard, pulled the straw out of his mug, and blew a stream of air at the Monk's face.

“Y'know, it IS your fault it's cold. I need something warm for myself,” she pouted at him, crossing her arms over her broad chest. At her comment, the human turned towards the barkeep, but he couldn't even respond before Xolphiea was nearly sitting in his lap, smiling much more widely at him.

“I think I know something that's tasty and warm,” she purred, gently pulling up on the side's of Sigmaine's helmet as she almost straddled his bloodsoaked form. He flinched as his black beard and long mustache was revealed to the air, but nothing more to the world. With a coo, the brawler brushed her nose against Soren's own before warmly kissing him, a motion that he gratefully and awkwardly returned as well. Her tail wagged happily as the two of them kissed fondly, something that neither of them wanted to break soon.

His chair wasn't fixed – but he sure didn't want to move out of it now.

[thalsianiii]

Brawl Pub RP Opinions!

Sup! it’s me, that guy who sometimes posts questions at 3am because I get restless! So here’s another one to spark some discourse and get your opinions!!

Bizmo’s Brawlpub

Occasionally, people like to RP down here. It’s a nifty little underground bar/club where we can watch people fight. Enjoy the atmosphere of a sketchy sleep easy kinda bar with topless bouncers and sassy NPC’s.

But what about people who actually brawl? If someone wanted to participate in the blood sport how much of what they’re doing in the arena do you consider IC. and how much is strictly mechanics?

Sure a warrior jumping in and swinging his sword about seems as acceptable as a priest in the church. It just makes sense. But what about a character, like myself for example, who’s rotation (and in character skillset) revolves around summoning demons?

Do you accept him throwing demons at the enemy as occurring? Or just take it as a mechanical aspect and just acknowledge that he “fought” in the ring? Do you keep it vague with statements like “Nice fight!” “you fought hard!” “Good hit!” Or would you comment on what actually occurred?

In cases of characters that use ‘illegal’ magics. Would you consider the Brawl Pub bouncers as arms of Stormwind law? If someone did use forbidden skills in the arena would they be beaten, thrown out, and handed over to the guard? Or do you consider the Brawl Pub as an underground, outside-of-the-law establishment where anything goes and people don’t ask questions?

Lemme know your thoughts!

[emily-barker]

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes! Emily’s favorite form of exercise is running, whether in human or Worgen form. In her day-to-day life, she does a lot of strenuous walking across varied terrain while carrying a loaded rucksack, and some climbing. While working with the Gilneas Liberation Front, she followed the same exercise regimen as her cohort. Today, she follows a new regimen to support her hand-to-hand combat training, and - since she arrived in Stormwind - she’s been spending a good portion of her nights testing herself at Bizmo’s Brawlpub.

Thanks for asking, @jacobdcheshyre!

(I have a lot of these to get through still. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten anyone!)

[riizev2]

🌇 Where are 3 places your character enjoys hanging out?

Bizmo’s Brawlpub The howling expanses of the Void Land’s End Beach