Rebecca
**It was the evening.**

**The tavern had a boisterous crowd tonight. Patrons at the Wolfheart Tavern filling their bellies with mead. Drinks flowed, pleasantries exchanged between individuals, the hearth of the tavern kept their bodies warm from the ever-winter that was Gantrick's environment.**

**There were odd figures here and there, but Baldwin Icharyd stood out like a sore thumb. Not many Drow Elves in Gantrick, typically found in Lazaroth, Baldwin had been one of few who dared venture outside his kingdom. It was fortunate Gantrick and Lazaroth had been under good terms, else he'd likely be discriminated more severely. The Drow had straight black hair, with two distinct scars. One on the right side of his lip, while another cut would be found across his left eye. Presently his form was obscured by a thick cloak, but beneath those covers who hide sheer peak physicality. Strength that would be kept hidden for the time being. However, viewing those knuckle against his visage, he exposed the vascularity of his forearms. Each insertion defined, revealing his muscles. From his arm alone he revealed strength.**

**Drinking from a tankard, Baldwin had a knuckle to his cheek, letting out a hefty sigh. He was _bored._ Fortune would come his way, as he watched two Beastwalkers hold a contest of strength. A Bear and a Elk Beastwalker, grasping each other's hands, as they held an arm wrestle. A wager for coin at that. Baldwin watched, looking at how each of the two struggled— but it wasn't long before the Elk Beastwalker slammed the Bear's to the table. The crowd which watched erupted in cheer, whilst the Elk flexed his large bicep.**

**Baldwin had an itch he desired to relieve. He wanted to participate too, but he kept to his tankard. He watched to see who'd be the next individual to challenge the Elk Beastwalker to an arm wrestle.**

**If nobody stepped up to challenge, he would prepare to do so. Despite the risk of bad actors identifying who he was, and making an attempt at his life.**
Joseph
Storm hadn't seen so many Shapeshifters congregate together before. It seemed that there were ears and tails and paws everywhere. Although she was a feline Beastwalker herself, she was unaccustomed to the variety of her people's appearances. In Dasvaz, in slavery, she had only seen a handful of others like herself. Now they were plentiful and in every shape and size. 

Storm couldn't help but grin when she fit right into the crowd at the bar. The bartender only nodded when as she ordered, his eyes lazily flitting over her before focusing on something else. Curious, Storm turned to see what was going on. An arm wrestling match, judging by the flexing and gloating. And two Shapeshifters at that. Storm watched intensely, her golden eyes bright and alert. She was interested in how strong others were of her kind. What if she was considered weak?

She had no reason to worry. The match was over disappointingly quick. Storm's frown slowly turned into a cheshire grin. She saw an opportunity here. If she could fool enough men into betting against her, she could make some coin. As the Elk flexed, Storm stood up. "I'll challenge you!" She said boldly, slurring her words, taking a few gulps of her drink before slamming down the tankard. It earned her more than a few chuckles: a drunken *Cat* Biting off more than she could chew. 

She stumbled her way over to the chair and sat down across from the skeptical Elk. "Come on, big guy! Don't leave a lady waiting!" She taunted. With a shrug, the Elk sat down and offered his hand. Storm grasped it in her own, her grip loose. Her ears twitched as the bets were whispered urgently. The countdown began...

"...3...2...1...Go!"

Storm debated how to go about this. Should she struggle weakly and then overpower him at the very end? Should she just slam his hand down immediately? Would she spare his dignity or not? In the end, Storm pretended to struggle valiantly to slowly, inch by inch, push the Elk's hand down onto the table. She wasn't quite sure if this was better or worse, but it certainly made the crowds cheer louder. 

When finally the Elk's hand was pressed firmly to the tabletop, Storm released her grip. She was taken aback by the mix of jeers and cheers. Some seemed elated by the match while others were angry because of it. Already other people were clamoring to challenge her. Smiling a little nervously, she began to play it off. "Oh, I just got lucky, that's all... No, I'm far too tired... I couldn't possibly..."

||
Rebecca
**Baldwin had witnessed, and he would chuckle. A small kitty cat dare stand up against a larger creature's strength? That was cute. He would watch, having his preconceived notions of what would happen, before witnessing a _surprise._ Baldwin would watch as the cat had slammed the Elk's hand down. The crowd cheering and jeering, with her _humbly_ admitting it was sheer luck. The truth was, however, she had so much more to go, and that she had more strength then she let on. Her feline form, although covered with fur, had similar characteristics to his own. She was endowed with strength. One of a _barbaric_ sorts. Real recognized real, and Baldwin knew that she had been like him. Physically gifted with a body to challenge heaven itself.**

**Baldwin slammed his tankard down. He was aroused by this woman's strength, and desired to take a bite out of this kitty. A man from Lazaroth, he knew not to underestimate the strength of a woman. After all, from where he's from, they were in charge. He would be reminded that the small and meek were just as capable of the tall and large.**

"I'll have a bite." **Baldwin had spoke aloud with this deep, and husky voice. The Drow Elf brandishing an ear to ear grin. His heavy black cloak seemed to tangle by his ankles as he pressed through the crowd to reach the feline.** "Lets make a wager." **He would toss a purse onto the table. The coins clattering together in the bag as the purse made a weighty thud against the wood of the table.** "If you win, my purse. If _I_ win..." **He would pause, letting the tension build up slightly for dramatic effect.** "...I want _you_ for the evening." **He placed his wager, and deliberately left it ambiguous as to what he meant exactly as have her for the evening. However, if one were to assume to the worst, it was possibly he meant have his way with her this evening.**

**There was slight discomfort in the air at the Drow's wager, but now they wished to see if the feline would take his bet. He was not only challenging her, he was also directly attacking her womanly pride.**

**Baldwin would bring a finger to the collar of his cloak, before unveiling his form. He wore a white tunic, the sleeves reached to his elbows, but exposed his forearms. His shoulders were broad, back wide. He had large traps which peaked out from his tunic's collar. Upon his right shoulder was a leather shoulder piece, which was connected by a strap which wrapped around his torso and back. The strap had a buckle piece on the front, which had the shape of a sapphire gem inlayed inside. Little did anyone know, this was an artificer tool which he used for combat.**

**Now unveiled, he exposed his physicality. He gave off the presence of someone strong— his body was sculpted in such a manner which emphasized his strength. He was stronger than that Bear, or the Elf Beastwalker. Storm would know... He was like _her._ And Baldwin knew that the two were bound to enter a barbaric frenzy to see would be the winner.**

**Which was according to his plan. To agitate her, and force her to _Rage._ He wanted a taste of a fellow beast's fury. And that is why he made his wager.**

**He sat at the table, and eyed her.** "Don't keep me waiting, _kitten."_
Joseph
Storm ran her hand through her hair as she laughed off another compliment and an offer to wrestle. She was about to take her winnings and excuse herself when a voice cut through the noise of the crowd. Storm's ears twitched as she turned towards the man who had spoken: a Drow Elf wrapped in a cloak that hid most of his features. There was something about his tone that immediately drew her in.

Her eyes widened slightly with recognition. Yes, *Real* Recognized *Real* And she saw the man for what he truly was. His challenge hung in the air. Were people actually holding their breath? Her tail gave a flick as the man made it more interesting with a pouch full of coin. But the money didn't matter as much as the potential challenge. Although it certainly didn't *Hurt* Either, now that she considered it. She wasn't desperate for money - yet - but she might end up that way soon. 

And yet...

Did she offer *Herself* As some sort of prize to be won? She had just escaped slavery and this situation suddenly made her feel cold. Yet the idea of coming face-to-face with a fellow Barbarian made her heart beat faster. Storm could feel eyes upon her; but she only had eyes for the Drow.

Finally she shrugged nonchalantly and sat back down. Her smile was friendly and her eyes danced with amusement. "The name's Storm and I'm no kitten. Let's do this." There was something devious in her smile as she settled her elbow on the table and offered the Drow her hand. 

||
Rebecca
**Baldwin would form a ear-to-ear grin, meeting that devious smile of her own. His hand would clasp her own, as his fingers had curled, grasping the feline's hand. He sensed those pretty paws undoubtedly had claws in them still. If she was smart, she would probably use them to her advantage. Baldwin, pondered if he would be able to withstand those death daggers digging into his skin. His offhand would grab the edge of the table, grasping it firmly.**

"Name is Baldwin. If you need those claws of yours, best pull them out now, tiger." **He would dare speak, coaxing her to using all of her tools available.** 

**Looking to the crowd, he would speak up.** "Someone give us a countdown!" **He would speak up out loud with a firmer, guttural voice.**

**And thus, the crowd complied...**

`"3... 2... 1... Go!"` **The crowd erupted, marking the pair to begin their match!**

**Baldwin's arm visibly flexed, bicep popping as his upper body would twist with the motion. What others didn't have that Baldwin had was _technique._ He hadn't solely relied on his arm strength to attempt to brute force his way to victory. No, instead, using is off hand as support, he pushed his upper body weight down against her arm, putting his back and shoulder into the motion as he attempted to ground her swiftly.**

**Baldwin believed victory should be fast and concise. That dominance means winning by absolutely any means. Yet, he trusted that Storm wouldn't falter to him immediately. No, it was true... He liked playing with his food, and he liked when they fought back.**

"C'mon tiger, show me some balls!" **Baldwin shouted with guttural fever. To lay his pride down on the line had made him excited— no, more than that. He was totally titillated by the idea he could potentially be bested. Beastwalkers don't live as long as Drow, and Baldwin had a few centuries of experience backing him in this moment.**

**He truly believed he stood upon the precipice of physicality, and would do anything to prove that it was true. And against another barbarian no less? He wished to experience grand euphoria in his victory.**

**Baldwin truly possessed an ego to match his body.**