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<blockquote data-quote="Creamsteak" data-source="post: 3985541" data-attributes="member: 552">The two workers get into the physical confrontation quickly. They both draw knives, related to their normal trade, and each draws blood. They seem hell-bent on killing each other over the spilled drink. The rest of the audience (sans Slisik and potentially the party) react with complete and total apathy towards the events as they unfold. Dracus scores a solid knife into the abdomen of Olaf, and slits him across the belly. The poor tanner falls to the floor, his insides pouring onto the dull wooden floor.The victor's demeanor changes almost instantly, as if to realize what he's done. In a panic he looks around the room at the bewilderingly quiet and stoic audience. &quot;I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to...&quot; he mumbles to himself over and over. He starts walking towards the door, at first unaware of the bloody knife still in his hand. When it finally catches his own attention he tucks it into his shirt and rolls the fabric around it, staining his jerkin with the blood. Once it's half-clean, he puts it back into his sheath. He continues out of the bar, slowly making his way to the open streets.When he's just out of sight, the patrons suddenly react, as if the events hadn't quite unfolded to them until now. &quot;That bastard killed Olaf! Where does he think he's going to?&quot; Another patron is already examining the body, and he tries to administer first aid. Much to his own disgust, he determines that Olaf is in-fact dead as a rock. The bar-master gets into action, &quot;Call the watch! Call the damned watch!&quot; shouting and moving about.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Creamsteak, post: 3985541, member: 552"] The two workers get into the physical confrontation quickly. They both draw knives, related to their normal trade, and each draws blood. They seem hell-bent on killing each other over the spilled drink. The rest of the audience (sans Slisik and potentially the party) react with complete and total apathy towards the events as they unfold. Dracus scores a solid knife into the abdomen of Olaf, and slits him across the belly. The poor tanner falls to the floor, his insides pouring onto the dull wooden floor. The victor's demeanor changes almost instantly, as if to realize what he's done. In a panic he looks around the room at the bewilderingly quiet and stoic audience. [color=blue]"I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to..."[/color] he mumbles to himself over and over. He starts walking towards the door, at first unaware of the bloody knife still in his hand. When it finally catches his own attention he tucks it into his shirt and rolls the fabric around it, staining his jerkin with the blood. Once it's half-clean, he puts it back into his sheath. He continues out of the bar, slowly making his way to the open streets. When he's just out of sight, the patrons suddenly react, as if the events hadn't quite unfolded to them until now. [color=yellow]"That bastard killed Olaf! Where does he think he's going to?"[/color] Another patron is already examining the body, and he tries to administer first aid. Much to his own disgust, he determines that Olaf is in-fact dead as a rock. The bar-master gets into action, [color=limegreen]"Call the watch! Call the damned watch!"[/color] shouting and moving about. [/QUOTE]

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