The Den of the Audacious (Logan vs. Lok)

[Evor]

The Den of the Audacious​

[member="Lok Jorunn"]​

​

The lights flashed rapidly as the man in the ring fell to his knees in a daze, his mouth hanging open. He blinked once before a massive fist came from the heavens and smashed into his jaw, sending spittle and blood flying through the air. The man seemed to teeter on one knee for a moment before his whole body collapsed onto the floor, sending a ripple through his limp body. The crowd roared loudly, clapping their hands and stomping their feet as their blood-lust was fulfilled. The Red Ravens were never ones to back down from a fight, and their little brawls between each other did them all some good. A bell rang three times, almost completely muffled by the sound of the crowd. The winner hopped over the rail and into the crowd, slipping his shirt back on and taking a bottle from his friends. A small gate swung open and a large man walked into the ring and dragged the unconscious man out of the pit.

As the gate swung shut again, Logan jumped over the rail and threw his hands in the air with a shout, psyching the crowd up. It was his turn to show his prowess with his fists, and he didn't plan on loosing. He reached out into the crowd and grabbed a bottle of rum from someones hands, taking a quick swig from it before handing it back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, letting it hang unlit from his mouth. He chuckled and pulled his shirt off over his head, flexing his toned muscles with explicit cockiness. He was a large man, his body a monster in and of itself. His chest and upper arms were covered with tattoos. Some were symbols, others words and others proof of over drinking some nights, but as they twisted over his upper body it gave him a menacing look. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the death stick in his mouth, puffing on it softly. He rolled the pack and the lighter up inside of his shirt and tossed it to a friend in the crowd. He unstrapped a long hunting knife from his leg and slammed it down onto the thick rail, also scooped up by a friend.

He took a long puff from his cigarette and looked around him, surrounded on all sides by a crowd. He exhaled the smoke, the grey/black cloud circling him for a minute before dispersing into the air around him. "Who wants some?!" he cried out, daring someone to step into the circular fighting rink.

 

[Lok Jorunn]

This particular bad boy had long since been craving worthy opponents in the ring. Especially the fisticuffs boys out here. No shockgauntlets or anything. Just plain old fists, feet, and fangs. Hell, it was even easier to maneuver around your opponents without a whole damn pound of metal wrapped around your fingers when you tried to break their face in. No, Lok liked the feel of knuckles against noses.

And now some fethhead appeared to like his booze a little too much as he clambered up onto the stage with gusto, even uttering a challenge to anyone deemed strong enough.

Lok was strong enough.

"Hey buddy, I remember when I had my first beer too." The lion snarled as he too leapt up onto the stage with a chorus of lustful cries for blood and bruises. "And smoking's bad for ya.

"Just like going against me."

[member="Logan of Little Coruscant"]

 

[Evor]

A slightly chuckle escaped his lips as Lok climbed up onto the stage. At his prodding, all he did was grin slightly. It wasn't worth taking the mans gibes to heart. They were here to fight, and fight they would regardless of what was said. He took another puff from the smoke before he pressed the still smoldering butt into his upper arm with a happy grimace. Hell, if he could scare the man it might work in his favor. Every edge you could get in a fight directly impacted the outcome. Even if it didn't scare him, it still looked pretty damn cool.

He nodded to Lok, acknowledging the challenge, but still he said nothing. The man looked fierce, but Logan doubted that he had become a hardened brawler that only a violent and dirty life on the streets could turn you into. Logan was accustomed to winning, but he still lost plenty of fights... Mostly against Gen'Dai and other beings that essentially couldn't lose, but that wasn't what ran through his mind. All he could think about was his fists connecting with the other mans flesh. Beating him into submission or until he cried mercy... and then some.

But still he said nothing. He simply raised his clenched fists and waited.


[member="Lok Jorunn"]

 

[Lok Jorunn]

Hell no he wasn't born on the streets or did he ever fight dirty that early on. He was a warrior at heart and being an ex-Special Forces operative had a lot to tell, especially the scarred etchings of flesh that occupied space on his knuckles. Lok had strangled people to death in their sleep, slit more throats than there were fingers on his hands, and had ended the lives of many more than one could ever imagine.

This fella who stood before him jabbing a cigarette into his bicep was nothing compared to the memories that haunted him each and every day. Lok was a soldier, and simply put, soldiers never give up. At least not to the likes of this guy.

"Oh boy," Lok cooed as he brought up his own hands. "Strong and silent, huh? I like that in a man." The pirate scoffed at his own remark as he began to shift towards his opponent. Preemptive strike? Yes? No?

Ah, who cared?

[member="Logan of Little Coruscant"]

 

[Evor]

He might not have been ex-special forces or had some ego-boosting job, but this was a fist fight. Not the middle of a guerilla war. For several minutes it might be a battleground, two experienced fighters trading blows with each other and bleeding alongside each other. As Lok raised his fists and made motions toward him, Logan stepped forward quickly, showing speed that was rare for a man of his size and weight. He didn't strike right away but rather stared for a moment before he threw a short combo at Lok, giving a half-assed right hook , aiming it toward the other mans jaw before following up with a strong left hook that was aimed at Lok's lower chest, about where the ribs stopped.

He put little force behind the right hook aimed at the jaw, sacrificing brute strength for lightening fast speed. The left hook to the body was a bit slower in its delivery, but he packed a mean punch behind it that would send most men to their knees if it connected properly. His foot work wasn't the best, as it came from a more hands-on approach to fighting, but it was by no means shabby. He exhaled sharply as he threw his punches, breathing in quickly during the second long lull between the two punches.


[member="Lok Jorunn"]