<div class="floatleft">(https://img00.deviantart.net/c62f/i/2017/260/f/2/felannar_commission_by_tamikaproud-dbm5te2.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Oxenbridge Hewitt</span></span><br/>Character Sheet (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1383223)<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Let's begin in the thick, dirty crowd, where rustling shoulders and hacking coughs engendered a feeling of closeness that would not have existed had one man stood next to the other alone.  The crowd was a single organism, united by combat, invigorated by carnage, and left wanting for more.  It was there that Oxenbridge met the man who called himself Crow.  The elf had become accustomed to older men coming his way before a fight.  These men claimed to know and understand pugilism, and these enlightened warriors always wanted to share their discoveries with the pit fighters before a bout.  Oxenbridge had come to see these men as time-consuming pests.  Ox didn't know the first thing about out-thinking an opponent, and there was no one alive that could smarten him up in that regard.  Fortunately for Crow, Oxenbridge was unlike most bare-knuckle fighters in that he didn't waste time delving deep into his soul to find the beast within that breaks men's ones, or stoke the odorous plumes of spices into his nostrils to ease the fear that settles in men's minds before battle, or even empty his loins into the wombs of whores to enable focus and to banish distraction.  He had tried the spices and the whores before, purely out of recreation, but found them to be a detriment.  So Oxenbridge did exactly nothing before a fight, and because of that, he allowed himself the company.<br/><br/><em>"I can't be any more clear, boy,"</em>Crow said.<em>"Don't make me reconsider my offer.  You got three choices, boy, way I sees it. You need coin and information if you want revenge.  Law costs money, and law needs evidence... OR, if you wanna just slag the bloke, you need them too."</em><br/><br/>"Stop calling me 'boy'," snarled Oxenbridge.   "I'm over 100 years old."  The imperious elf stood still with his large callused hands clasped behind him.  His intense smoldering gaze adjudged the fighters in the middle of the pit with an air of superiority not foreign to elves.  But despite his intensity, his focus, and his ire, he did listen.<br/><br/><em>"So,"</em>Crow started,<em>"One, you go jump on a merchant ship, try to earn it.  We know that tale-- you get pressed service your whole life, taking it up the ass from the big gnarly louts what been doing it for years, until you get big and tough enough to do it back-- IF ya live-- and finally come back with a handful of copper, missin' an eye, an' the whole city's moved on so you can never find a thing."</em><br/><br/>The first option obviously didn't appeal to the elf.  He didn't mind being buggered from time to time, and in fact rather enjoyed it.  He also didn't care about the money.  He could not remember being wealthy, so he had no sense of it.  But the thing that he had with Lagon--this conflict--was important to him, and he could not bare to think of the city forgetting it.  It would mean that he was nothing.  It would mean that Lagon was nothing.  And if Lagon was nothing, then his hatred for him was nothing.  And worst of all, it meant that Diana was nothing.<br/><br/><em>"Two--"</em>Crow continued,<em>"you go out in that street and start beatin' every face what ever worked for Lagon, you get some lies and stories out of 'em, and you catch a blade in the kidneys and die slow and dirty.  Tick-Tock, they get word of you... and it's snap."</em><br/><br/>Ox wasn't very smart, but he could put two and two together and get four.  Crow's second option succinctly described what Ox had been doing up to this point.  Ox had gone to the streets and roughed up a lot of people to get to Lagon, but he was no closer to Lagon than he was before.  Maybe he was even further away from getting his hands on Lagon's neck, because Ox had lost a lot of friends and gained a lot of enemies in the short amount of time since the start of his vendetta against that infamous drug-dealing pimp.  He wasn't afraid of dying, but he was afraid of dying without getting his vengeance.<br/><br/>The elf accepted Crow's third option.  The onus wasn't on defeating the dwarf.  Ox already wanted to do that.  The difficulty of the thing was keeping himself out of trouble.  Not asking questions.  The elf really didn't think he could keep his end of the bargain in that regard, but he nevertheless said,  "Fine.  You've got a deal.  Put down the dwarf, sleep it off, don't ask questions."<br/><br/>When it was his turn, the elf pierced the crowd gracefully before standing opposite to a dwarven fighter.  Ox may have been the only elf that didn't despise dwarves.  Or maybe he did despise them in the conventional way, but that hatred took a back seat to the hostility he felt towards humans and elvenkind.  He widened his stance, kept his arms loose and his hands dangling by his hips, and...  entered into melee.<br/><br/><strong>OOC:</strong><br/><br/>Oxenbridge will use his Brawler Flexibility Special Ability to pick up the Dodge feat for ten rounds!