ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Sparrow The Fight had been escorted out of the Saloon and has now spilled over onto the street. There are five, yes five, bodies in total. There are duos who seem to be throwing punches, and a fifth who is joining in randomly as arms and leg fly, elbows jab, noses snap and even teeth fly. This is a serious brawl. There's no talk about what's it's about; it's the raw unadulterated need to vent one's frustration in the form of violence. People move out of the way and one concerned looking Aunty type goes scurrying off towards the Sherriff's office.

There's a group of youth a bit down chatting and it looks like a couple of caps are being put in a pot along with someone's bottle of Sasparilla.

Sparrow's off to the side, standing by a stack of coats and guns that had been tossed out after the dueling, standing beside it, hip cocked and head down.The cowgirl watching the fight with impressive impassivity; blue eyes shining in her inert weather aged face.
Arnold Arnold walk up to the scene his minigun attacked to his back as this is the only time people have seen arnold outside of his power armor hes shirtell with hit bos combat fatege bottoms on you can tell he works out alot because hes ripped as he walks up to the fight he shouts to the drunken scavers in his austrian acsent "alright nock it off before i show you how to really fight"
Celeste     News spreads fast in any town, and by the time the fight is outside, people are starting to poke their heads out of shops to take a look. Some are even placing bets. One of those people who pokes their head out of a shop is Celeste, her wide brown eyes shifting about until she sees which direction that fight is coming from. The blonde moves out of the shop and onto the street, and slowly heads in the direction of the fight until she steps onto the main street and sees it. Ah. There. Celeste decides to keep her distance. No sense in getting close when she has a good view from here.
Skittles Skittles was just heading down the street, when the crowd spilling forth from the Saloon brushed her off to one side. Interest causes her to stay and watch, unsure of what the cause is. She gazes at the gear and weapons tossed aside and shrugs. She spots Sparrow as she turns back to look on with the rest, and heads her way. Bumping a shoulder against her's she says, "Any idea what they're fighting over?".
Ashur "Let them fight," growls a deep-spoken and bestial voice, revealed to come from a giant of a man lounging against a cracked plaster wall near the brawl. The blood on his hands is dry-- too dry to be fresh now, coming from a source that has to be hours and hours old. "It lacks the grace of an arena, but when words fail, strength must speak." Stepping forward from the shadow, Ashur, Legion cloak wrapped around him in thinned tatters like a blanket, stares from Arnold to the riot of violent flesh.

Still, one man shoved another hard, and he damn near smacked Ashur in the chin with the flailing of his arms to regain balance. Impassivity won't last long if he gets hit.
Sparrow Two of the men make a gesture that is not very gentlemanly Arnold's direction until number Five pops Number Four and Number Three decides to get in on Number Five. And it begins again.

One and Two? Are locked like bulls, circling and grunting in a manner most unmanly. There's a hat in the road, alone and sad, scrunched to absolute shapelessness.

Sparrow tilts her head as an aside to Skittles and tells her in a completely deadpan, "Game of Cards. Apparently, one of thems cheatin'." She gestures towards the quintet of brawlers dismissively. "Least they were smart enough to give up their guns before the game. Bettin' the one who suggested it's the one that was cheatin'." She drawls with an unamused snort.
Celeste     Celeste isn't close enough to the brawl to hear any bit of what started it, but she looks like she sure would like to know! The young woman moves farther down the street, heading past another shop before she finds a space to observe the brawl from. What draws her attention to that space is a familiar voice. Ashur's. Celeste grins and takes a few swift steps from the side, moving on over to the man to stand beside him at that plaster wall. "What happened?" she asks as she crosses her arms over her chest and looks out to watch the men fighting again. Her lips twitch into a sort of amused grin. Long as no body's being killed, it's good, right?
Aidan Drake Aidan is making his rounds through the town riding on Elmer and doin that deputyin thing when he stumbles across a barroom brawl that spilled out from the saloon. He shakes his head a bit from atop his horse, shouting down to them, "Hey there kids quit the brawlin here can't have ya causing a scene like this. Take it outta the gates if you need to fight it out."
Ashur The Legionnaire's arms are folded over his broad chest, spine straight as he stands kind'a military. "A man won at cards," he rumbles in thunder-like reply, leveling his golden eyes down at them. "And his companions did not like that. There were accusations of tricks and maternal infidelity." The bull-man shakes his head and snorts, a bit of bone worked into one of his braids brushing along his ear. "But who can rely on the word of a drunken fool? The Dissolute degrade themselves with such acts."

He glances to Aidan the lawman and back at the brawlers. At least there's some sense of order. Arms unfold, and he reaches a hand to the small of Celeste's back, hustling her closer to him and further from the brawlers; violent drunks don't always respond well to authority. "Their techniques are poor. Look at them-- five men, and not a one knows how to make a proper fist. They swing in wild haymakers. There's no concern for the small bones, nor aiming for vulnerable points-- just swing and belch and curse." His voice reeks of disappointment as much as the men reek of other things.
Sparrow Sparrow lifts a brow towards Skittles and a dry smile touches just one corner of her lips. She seems inclined to let the group fight it out herself, seeing as they didn't have their guns but when people start calling for the brawl to end the cowgirl sighs and bends to pick up the men's things and put them in the post for them to gether.

It's slow to stop. One and Two slow when the familiar voice pops up and they blink as the Deputy rides up. "Aww hell.." Says One. Two just looks a bit somber and backhands at Three to try an get him to stop wailing on Five. "Hey, hey.. Law's here." The Scavver slurs with far less elegance and far more volume than he'd intended.

Four points at Ashur, "You take that .. whatever ya'll just said. You take it back."

The three adolescents who'd been hanging out making bets with folks scatter to the winds leaving whoever was so misfortunate as to already have given them money at a loss. Pesky scamps.
Celeste     A shuffling step brings Celeste closer to Ashur when he guides her, and she gives a crooked grin his way as she stops. Arms remain over her chest and her dark gaze fixes upon the five who are fighting as she murmurs to Ashur, "That's all, huh? Mmm, 'guess that's all it takes sometimes. Booze and a reason to fight." She shrugs a shoulder and then leans back against the wall again, right foot lifting to bend her knee and press that boot back against the wall. She keeps her eyes on the fighting while listening to Ashur, which makes her crack another grin and give a little laugh. "I guess their fighting -does- look a bit chaotic," she remarks, her words in time with the fighter now speaking to Ashur. She quirks a look at him and then turns to glance up at Ashur and back. "Eh, I wouldn't start nothin' with this guy," she says, hooking a thumb towards Ashur while looking at Four. "He beat up a deathclaw with his fists and lived to tell the tale."
Ashur "There is no instinct purer than the one for violence," Ashur replies, looking aside and down toward the much smaller woman as she settles adjacent him. "It is the urge which enables all others." He remains standing tall as she leans, looking away from her then to the brawler giving him the stink-eye. There's a tightening of his jaw, a tension-- and it breaks when his mouth parts in a too-wide sharktooth smile, absent so much as a trace of good humor. "Walk it off, Dissolute, or you'll be pissing blood for weeks."