How many foxes does it take to fight one rat?

"Ladies and Gentalbeast, are you ready? ARE you READY FOR SOME ACTIOOOOON!"

The crowd of beasts around the fighting pit let out a shout. The room was packed, so much so that beasts spilled out into the rest of the Ferreval tavern. The circular sand filled pit was currently occupied by a lanky brown rat in a red tunic. "Well have we got a show for you folks tonight! Two fighters enter, one leaves. The other has an all expense paid trip to the infirm or the GRAVE!" Another shout goes up around the pit and the rat waits for their din to calm down before he points to one corner. "I'm sure you lot are tired of hearing me talk so lets meet our fighters. Off in this corner, its the mean, its the deadly, DINGO!"

Dropping into the ring from the top comes a brown furred fox. He is a burly beast, obviously well fed and a bit rounded about his middle. Any amount of excess however is tempered by his muscular frame. The beasts fur is purposely kept short and his tail is shaved, giving the beast a look of, a dingo. The fox is dressed in a simple brown vest.

He lifts up his paws and the crowd begins to shout in excitement.

"AND LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE NEXT CONTENDER-" The rat announcer shouts at the top of his lungs, face beginning to turn red as he screws his eyes shut to force more volume out of his mouth. "YOU KNOW HIM! YOU LOVE HIM! YOU WISH YOU WERE LIKE HIM! THREEEEETREEEEES!" A great giant of a rat comes pushing through the crowd to the edge of the ring opposite Dingo, then stops, and from out of his wake steps a much smaller, much leaner searat who climbs over the railing, putting his arms in the air, his fingers curling as he eggs on the cheers of the crowd.

The fox seems to gulp when he watches the giant rat appear. He had no idea they made rats in that size! And then...the true fighter appears. "Oh for the love of..." Dingo face paws. An agent. They told him to get an agent, but did he listen? Noooo. That's why he is stuck running fights like these. Oh well, money is money.

"Alright boys! You know the rules. THERE ARE NONE! PUNCH HIS FACE OUT!" The announcer scurries to the side and effortlessly climbs up the side wall of the arena. He turns and thrusts his paws outward three times, "THREE, TWO...what comes after two, oh, right, FIGHT!"

Above the arena, leaning against the metal railing a very obese brown fox sips from his ale. Dressed in his uniform the head guard watches the fight with amusement. In reality though he is just here to make sure the fighting stays in the arena, and doesn't spill out into the rest of the tavern...again.

"Alright mate," Dingo says to his opponant, taking a boxing stance and 'dancing' around the arena, "Let's get this show on the road..."

Threetrees isn't quite so hasty, and the rat takes some more time with his arms in the air, waving at the crowd to incite them to greater volume, shouting wordlessly and flexing at the spectators, displaying a very trim, very defined upper body. He's only wearing a pair of ratty trousers, and as he turns to face the crowd, a giant tattoo of three trees on his back is visible, one oak, one pine, one palm. "YEAHHHhhhhh!" An actual word!

The fox patiently waits for Threetree's to finish his grandstanding. And then waits some more. Oh come on! Thinks the fox. I just want to get paid already. "Cheese it." Dishonorable or not Dingo stomps forward, throwing a punch to the back of the rats head...

Threetrees may not be as dumb as he looks. The rat immediately whirls, one paw flying up to grab Dingo's fist and shove it down, the other winging in at a high rate of speed to slap his open palm against the side of the fox's face.

The crowd goes wild as the fox jerks backward, falling onto his rump. He gives the rat a wicked glare, then smiles as he spits out blood from a cracked lip. "Oh...so now you decided to join the fight eh? s'bout time! Let's see you try that again!" Rolling backward onto his feet the fox readies himself. Taking a step forward he lunges, sending a flurry of punches towards the rat's head and sides.

There may be a martially correct response for the barrage of blows, but the rat seems a bit lost on it, choosing instead just to cover up with his arms to protect his head and try to dodge from side to side as much as he can. He takes a fair amount of blows to the ribs, but when the opportunity presents itself, he reaches past a punch to slap at the fox's outstretched arm, right near the elbow, sending the swing wide of its mark and following it up with a hard low jab at Dingo's stomach.

The fox let's out a pained gasp, taking a step backward. The blow hurt, but the extra padding softened it. Still doesn't keep the fox from wincing as he presses onward into the fight. Dingo seems to favor slower, but more powerful blows, sending them to places where they will do the most damage. He steps forward testing the rat's defenses by throwing a quick jab to his right and trying to quickly land a punch on his nose.

Threetrees has some sort of strange open-pawed stance going on, manipulating the bigger fox's moves rather than trying to counter them outright. As the swings come in toward his head, he ducks and shoots forward, popping up to slam the top of his skull into Dingo's chin.

There is, admitedly less padding on the fox's chin than his stomach. The fox staggars backward clutching at the sides of his head. For a moment he forgets where he is, his vision bluring in and out. He tries to blink and shake his head repeatedly and for the moment, offers no response to the rat, verbal, physical or otherwise. All Dingo can hear at the moment is the ringing in his ears.

Seeing his chance, Threetrees swings both paws in rapidly towards the fox's head, looking to clap his open palms against the pretty vulpine ears to add a bit more trauma to the poor tod's brain.

And hearing.

And likely his pride.

Discombobulated the fox let's out a pained yell as the blow lands. His paws come up to his ears, his eyes squint shut and he staggers around the arena, he begins to throw his punches wildly, mostly striking at air.

Threetrees is having a good match. The rat follows the fox and aims an enormous Spartan kick at his chest, intent on taking whatever wind is left in his sails, out of his sails. And sending him crashing into the side of the arena.

A loud roar erupts from the crowd as the fox hits the wall. He slumps down onto his rump. His eyes flicker open and his limbs try to move, desperate to stay in the match. "Oh no! IS the DINGO DOWN? IS THE DINGO DOWN?" The announcer shouts, "Should we start a timer? Is this the END? What do you think Sir Bandit?" The rat says to the head guard next to him. The fox chuckles slightly then reaches his mug towards the arena and pours ale over the fox's head.

"And there you have it! The match is ovaaaaaaaaaaar! Threetree's is the winner! Threetrees is the winner! All bet's must be paid in full before you leave the tavern..."

Threetrees, triumphant! The lean rat's paws thrust high into the air, exulting in his victory.

Dingo bangs his head gently against the wall of the pit. "Ah...blazes..."

"Well Bandit, what did you think?" The announcer jabs the head guard in the side. With a hrmp the fox replies, "I thought it was horrible. Worst fight imaginable."

"That's only because you bet on the fox."

Bandit scoffs, rolling his eyes he begrudgingly hands the rat a small bag of coins. "Fox my eye. More of a shaved mouse than a fighter. What a chump. A disgrace to the fox family name! Being beaten up like that by a rat."

The rat waits for the polite, 'no offense' remark that usually comes after such comments. After no such thing comes the rat twitches his whiskers, "I'm sure you could have done better Bandit. After all, you ARE twice the fox Dingo is." He tempts fate by prodding the head guard in the side.

"Knock it off." Bandit growls, "And yeah, I AM twice the fox he is. You let me alone in that ring and I would have mopped the floor with that pin needle of a rat in one minute flat! I could have broke him in HALF!"

"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" the announcer sneers. Down in the ring, Threetrees is still show-boating for the dwindling crowd.

The fox looks to the rat, then to the fighting rat, then back to the announcer. "What do you expect me to do? Sit on him? The guy is a tooth pick! One stiff breeze will knock the guy over and, pfft, fine." Perhaps it was the ale in the fox's gut that made him unstrap the sword belt from his waist and hand it to the announcer. He has been hitting the bottle rather hard lately. Or maybe it was just the general need to beat someone up and release some stress that causes the fox to leap over the side of the railing and into the pit. "Hey! You! The one with the girly tattoos! It's time for your REAL match!"

Maybe the palm tree /is/ a tad on the feminine side, but the comment still doesn't go over well with Threetrees. "Whazzat?" A second word! The searat whirls once more, to find yet another fox begging for a beating. Giving a tug on his ratty ear, Threetrees shrugs and invites the fox in with a crook of his claw.

The fox cracks his knuckles, but it lacks the desired effect when the knuckles don't pop. "Alright you sea faring scum rat. Let me show you how REAL fox's fight." The fox stalks forward, slight hunch to his gait as he moves like a lumbering giant ready to crush its prey...

______________________________

"Well d'en...d'at was embarrasing."

"I don't know, you put up a good fight...not as good as I did, but still." Dingo pats the fox on the back, "I never saw someone yelp that loudly, but to be fair I never saw someone twisted into a KNOT as well."

"Oh shud up." The fox finishes stuffing the cloth up his nose. Thankfully the black eye won't stand out too much, not with the black eye he received as well. It just makes him look slightly, raccoon-ish. "Sea rat my eye. That guy obviously has some military training."

"Oh yeah, fo' sure." A slab of cold meat pressed against his head Dingo orders another ale from the bar.

"All those girly dancing moves. Probably some kind of /assassin/ or...or deranged circus performer." The bruised and battered head guard points to his fellow fox's head, "You sure you don't need a healer to take a look at that?"

"What this? Nah, I'm fine. I've had worse. One time got hit in the head by...by a...um..hu..." The fox pauses for a second, scratching his chin, "What this? Nah, I'm fine. I've had worse. One time got hit in the head by a...a...it's on the tip of my tongue back in the...uh..."

"Riiiight. Let's go get you to the healer, s'right?" The head guard moves to pick the fighter up by the shoulder.

"But I don't want to go to the healer papa, I havn't got any of my studying done and it's so chilly, do we really have to go to auntie sues?"

"Yeah...you're /perfectly/ fine...."