"Owned!"
Shrews involved: Belliger, Trynt
NPC's spoofed by Belliger.

Trynt is sat by the fire, weyhey. He's adjusting those oh-so-awexome Freddie-Jin-Mustaine gauntlets.

Belliger comes from the direction of the River Moss, wet from the waist down, and looking like he's been hard at work, what with the hatchet he carries and the rag he's wiping his brow with. He gives a nod to Trynt, eyeing him, trying to guess before it's made obvious whether he's trashed or not.

Trynt actually seems...not bad. Not bad at all. He nods back, holding up an empty flask. "Crab apples make terrible cider, I jus' found out." he grins a bit.

Belliger smiles as he has a seat by the fire... The most distant one from the fire, mind you, as he's sweating enough already. "I see, I'll 'ave ta remember that, then. In case I should want ta make cider, sometime." He pulls the canteen from his belt, filled with water, and he chugs it, holding it out from his mouth so the water makes an arc before entering it. He swallows, and wipes his brow again. "Seems like it goes righ' through ya, don' it?"

"Suppose." Trynt shrugs. Depends on how drunk he is. :D "Hey, I took y'advice. Y'know, on fightin' barepaw. So I made these." he holds up the studded gauntlets. He could be in Judas Preist with those on!

Belliger raises his eyebrows, impressed with the gauntlets. "'ow'd y'get yer paws t'make them? Look fearsome 'nough." He smirks, taking another swig of water.

Trynt grins. "Jus' put the studs out o'some old armour inta these. Simple really. I reckon they should do a fair bit o'damage in a fight." he nods.

Belliger nods, "Def'nitely. I'd be scared o' gettin' in their way. But can y'use 'em? ...Tha's th'big question. Warrior ain' as good as 'is weapon, a weapon's only as good as th'warrior." Confucius say.

Belliger's eyes dart to the training grounds again. "Knock any unsuspectin' shrews out yet, er 'ave y'jus' been shadow boxin'?"

Trynt shrugs. "Well, not many o'these Guosim seem t'favor fisticuffs, so mostly jus'on me own."

Belliger winks. "Well, ye gotta fight 'gainst all sorts o'weapons, e'en if'n ye only got yer fists. S'not likely ye'll allus be up 'gainst 'nother boxer, y'know."

Trynt shrugs and nods. "S'pose..." he says quietly.

Belliger hops up. "Well, le's see wot y'can do with those thin's!" He nods in the direction of the training grounds, bouncing a bit back and forth on his footpaws.

Trynt nods, donnign the gauntlets. "Yeah, okay then." he says amiably, getting up.

-*-*-*-*To the training grounds...

Belliger has already selected his wooden training short sword, and tossed his belt to the side, if not out of habit, then out of excitement. He stands in the center of the training grounds, and a few shrews that were training have stopped for now, to see what Belliger has in mind for this new evening.

Deja vu! A tiny part of the reason Trynt's been training alone is 'cause he didn't think much of himself after the last duel. He enters, though, with the homemade heavy metal gloves on. Lethal. :D

The gathered shrews murmur amongst themselves... Belliger seems to be letting Trynt use real weapons instead of training ones. Nonetheless, this just adds to the excitement. Belliger twirls his training sword around with a flick of the wrist, and rolls his neck, listening to the bones snap and crack. "Trynt, I want ye ta pretend I'm y'worst enemy. For this fight, I ain' Belliger, a'right? I'm an evil, cheatin', lyin' vermin. If'n y'hold back, I'll notice, an' I'll make sure ye regret it." At that, he takes the stance. The crowd shivers in excitement, some rubbing their paws together, others murmuring quiet bets.

Trynt seems pretty nervous. "Okay." he agrees, apprehensive about hurting the shrew. He takes up his own homemade stance, a paw held out and sideways for defence, his other drawn back for offence.

Belliger flicks his sword's tip back a bit, and lets it fall forward as he slowly approaches the other shrew, watching his stance and form. The crowd, as is its usual tendency during a big fight, forms a circle around the two, but still leaves plenty of room for movement.

Trynt seems to be strictly on the defensive, for now anyway. Each time the sword tip is flicked, he lowers a paw ready to block, always at an angle to catch the flat of the 'blade' against the studs. Weyhey.

Belliger gets impatient. He rushes forward the rest of the distance, feints left, then dashes forward and to the right, slashing at the boxer shrew's torso.

That's kinda confusing to the still pretty novice shrew. More by luck than judgment, he manages to duck to the side, blocking with the studs. A very brief hesitation, and he aims for a left jab. Jabbity!

Oh, so he hesitated. Belliger takes advantage of this however brief weakness, and spins forward and to the right again, ending up behind Trynt, and brings a powerful slash down to the back of the other shrew's head, using both hands on the short sword.

Too farsht! Trynt has only half-turned before he gets bludgeoned. Bah...dead.

Belliger lowers his sword, and his head. "Trynt, Trynt. Mate, I tol' ye not t'hold back. Ye waited." He steps back a few paces, and takes a stance again. "Le's try this again, an'I ain' kiddin'. Hesitate again, an' ye'll be 'urtin'."

Trynt kicks the dust, disheartened. "I dunno..." he murmurs quietly, looking at his paws. All of a sudden, those gauntlets don't look so good.

Belliger shakes his head. "Don' give up, mate. Yer jus' afraid o'hurtin' me. Don' be, I'll be fine. I'm yer -enemy,- Trynt. Now get ready, 'cause if'n ye don', I'm comin' fer ye anyway."

Trynt looks doubtful, but he takes up the stance anyway... Not much self esteem, this guy.

Belliger makes his slow approach again, perhaps giving Trynt time to attack should he want to. More flicks of the tip of his training weapon follow a series of slow steps.

Trynt figures that if he's gonna be beaten again, he might as well go out with a bang. He suddenly goes for that same left jab.

Belliger quickly kneels, the jab going over his head as he thrusts upward into the other shrew's stomach.

Trynt is quicker this time. If anything, he seems angrier. Probably at himself. He brings his right paw down like a hammer, butting the flat of the blade away, and curls the jab into a downward elbow between the other shrew's ears. Weyhey.

Belliger is clocked soundly on the top of the head by the shrew's elbow, and hits the dirt. But, he recovers quickly by rolling to the side and placing a paw on the ground to use the momentum from his roll to place him on one knee, a position which he quickly shifts to his normal fighting stance... He's got a smile on his face, but he remains wordless, merely nodding at Trynt. He approaches slowly again, only this time he suddenly makes a dash to the left, and when he's in range, a dash to the right with a thrust to Trynt's chest.

Once again, more luck than judgment...and some reflex, to be fair. As the thrust comes in, he claps his paws either side of the 'blade'...but will it be enough to stop it? Weither it is or not, he goes for a kick. Huh hah huh!

Belliger yanks his sword out from between the shrew's paws as the kick sends him stumbling backwards, almost onto his behind if he hadn't kept his balance. His nose wriggles a bit, and he shakes his head, approaching slowly, deciding to let Trynt have the offensive again. Against his nature, but this -is- training, after all.

Trynt is still pretty angry. He /will/ win this, dammit. At least, that's what the anger tells him. He goes for his first feint! Pulling his right paw back as though for a big punch, however before he's pulled back even halfway, he suddenly darts forward with a left to da face. If this is successful, /then/ he gives the right. :D

Belliger wasn't expecting Trynt to have grasped that concept quite yet, which teaches Belliger a lesson about underestimation. Whap bam, the two punches connect strongly, and Belliger is floored, the studs on the gauntlets doing their work on his now bleeding face. The sword falls limply out of his paw, and his head rolls on the ground back and forth in a daze.

The crowd falls silent for a brief moment, then explodes in a growling cheer. Bloooooodbath. Mwahaha.

Trynt doesn't look very triumphant. Rather miffed, actually. He wasn't supposed to win, was he? After a brief goggle at the situation, he takes off the gauntlets in quite a hurry. "Sorry!" he says 2 da Bell, in some kind of small shock that he'd hurt a comrade like that.

Belliger blinks a few times on the ground, before sitting up, paw grasping around his wooden training blade again. "No, no, keep 'em on, Trynt, keep 'em on." He gets to his feet, shaking whatever's left of the cosmos of stars he was seeing free of his mind, and... crazy enough, takes a stance again, bleeding head and all.

Trynt looks...nervous. "Are you sure?" he asks, picking them up again. He puts them on despite his apprehension. He's rather shaken, actually.

Belliger nods a few times, rolling his neck around again. "Aye, I'm sure." He waits for Trynt to get into a stance again, hopping back and forth on his footpaws.

Trynt does indeed get back into stance. Now apprehensive about hurting the other shrew, he takes up a defensive stance.

Belliger charges, not giving any time for the slow approach. The short sword is pointed towards the other shrew, and just when he's in range, the tip dips, and Belliger flicks his wrists upwards as he raises his arms in an upward slash, which would, if it should connect, start at the bottom of the shrew's neck and end at the top of his forehead.

Trynt isn't expecting such a move, especially at that speed. It hits the neck and his chin, though he then looks upward and back a bit, the sword missing the rest. He hesitates again though, not sure if that counted him as defeated. He stays on guard, just in case.

Well, yeah, it did. But where would the fun be in that? Belliger takes his sword from its position, and keeps the momentum going, swinging it downwards into a powerful horizontal spinning strike into the shrew's side.

Lucky Trynt stayed on guard. But then he pulls out his real surprise move; as the other shrew's horizontal move starts, he tries to dart around behind him. If successful, Belly can expect to find heavy studded gloves smashing either side of his head.

Belliger wasn't ready for that, either, so he takes the smashes to the head in full force, sending more stars into Belliger's vision, and causing him to fall forward onto paws and knees... He regains himself, at least partially, rather quickly, so he pushes off the ground with his paws, and turns to face Trynt, only to lunge straight into the other shrew, staying low and slashing up and to the left across Trynt, starting at the left side of Trynt's stomach and ending at Trynt's right collarbone. The shrew sees the results of his decisions as if they're delayed, through blurry vision.

Trynt is once again unsure whether to continue, but then the other shrew lunges. Before he's even realised it, Trynt's reflex simply causes him to lash out with a big punch at the incoming head. Might be bad though, as he can't block or dodge then.

Belliger is socked directly in the side of the head, but is able to follow through with the slash, anyway, connecting all the way across Trynt's torso. But, the punch to the head sends Belliger stumbling, and this time he is unable to right himself as he falls flat on his back, training sword lying an armlength away from his paw. The studs again did their work, and he's got a fresh wound on the side of his head, slowly trickling blood. He lay knocked out on the ground, and the crowd of shrews comes in closer, stepping around

Belliger to pat Trynt on the back, ruffle his headfur, and shout congratulations to him, all in good fun and good nature, good job, nice fight, etc. etc.

Trynt once again looks all unsure of himself, however. He greets the praise with odd gazes, and such questions as, "...Is he alright? I never meant t'hurt him that much..."

"Ah, he'll be alright, he's a rough'n!" "Aye, Trynt, good show!" The congratulations keep coming, mmhmm.

Trynt looks doubtful, taking the gauntlets off. Best get them out of the way; his paw hurt from that last punch. Maybe he'll be able to enjoy the praise better after making sure he hasn't shattered the shrew's skull. So he checks.

Skull intact, Belliger still lay there, head moving back and forth dazedly again. "...Unnh."

Rather modest and kindly is Trynt, valuing a friend's safety over the praise of his first victory. He peers at The Belly with concern. "You okay?"

The crowd stands in a blob behind Trynt and Belliger, murmuring amongst themselves in confusion as to how Trynt can -not- be excited as they are. The shrew second in command opens his eyes, closes them quickly, then opens them wider. "Aye... I'm a'right. Aye." He brings a paw to his head, then down to his face. "Y'got me good, there, Trynt. Good job."

The ultra lack of ultra enthusiasm appears to be another personality quirk to this slightly odd shrew. Kinda explains why he drinks a lot, really: He acts like a shrew when drunk. "Thanks." he says quietly, chancing a smile. Hey, he /did/ just beat the acting leader. "Y'did kill me a couple o'times though."

Belliger shrugs, patting a (bloody) paw on Trynt's shoulder. "Aye, but I think ye foun' yerself yer weapon o'choice." Snickers are heard from the crowd, and

Belliger jerks a bit forward, as if he's gonna get up and chase after them, and they stop. Heh, still bringing the fear. "Good fight, now 'opefully ye'll be able t'teach some o'these dimwits 'ow t'fight." He waves his paw to the surrounding crowd, who growl in mock protest. Yep, still got the respect. Check done, Belliger kinda... leans on Trynt to help himself stand.

Trynt supports the other shrew, nodding a bit. He seems happier now. "I did better than I thought I would, but I'm nothing special." modesty. :p Finally he says, rather loudly to everyone, "Fancy a drink?" XD

And so it came to pass that Trynt gained favor with the majority. There isn't a shrew present who disagrees with Trynt's offer, and so a roar of "Aye"s and one "Why, yes, of course." arises from the crew.