[center][h2]Mirt, Anyon, Belrigger[/h2]
Underground arena - FLARING TEMPERS[/center]

-In the pit-

Anyon struck out with relentless fury at her opponent. Despite the prize fighter being better armed they were sorely outmatched by the Priestess of Aier Suns unforgiving teachings, her fists hit hard enough to dent the ceramic plates glittering across Gaermins torso in devastating displays of martial skill. To the casual onlooker it would be all to clear of Gaermins fate in the round and it was telling across the bearded visage of Belrigger above, dark lines crossing his face.

Mirt mirrored the big mans look, but only because he had instructed the hotheaded priestess to lose the first round. That girl never listened! 

-The fight / Belrigger-

It had all gone downhill so sourly. The losing fight was shame enough but the damn fox was more than some wench looking for coin. Their brazen attitude, the disrespectful tone, even their words meant to placate him had been honeyed with a fine poison and like a fool he had swallowed it up. Worst, perhaps, of all was the patron from the VIP causing a commotion! The two had locked gazes, fox and patron, and sparks hit the powderkeg. Belriggers attention had turned swiftly from the combatants and Mirt to the spectacle before him as it escalated from bad to worse.
Elque, the other demi hostess, was all but forgotten. [u]Free to roam as they pleased.[/u] The scowl on his face could sour milk, unable to speak or act as the unfolding drama turned to utter bedlam right under his nose. A bottle smashed into a patron, fists came freely with it as commotion swept up the regulars into an all-out brawl. A whistle came from above, a guard echoing his thoughts, and Belrigger raised his hand in return. It wouldn't take long for his personal guards to flood through the vip gateway into the arena proper and stop the fighting at swordpoint so that just left the nuisances. His march to the main exit, the only exit the riffraff knew of, was barred by brawling patience and his patience had finally worn thin.

Taking two patrons by the neck, Belriggers bellowed warcry echoed across the underways as he tossed or trampled anyone that put themselves between him and the Fox on her insane leap across the arena, a feat of incredible ability in itself, even tossing aside one of his own trained soldiers with a single hand despite the weight of their armor. Never even taking his eyes off that damn Fox. 
The tables blocking the exit had been upturned but the two were fighting on the stairs as he charged forward, shoulder down, and smashed his way through the thick wooden obstacle like kindling to stand in the doorway with great heaving breaths. 
By now, Lady Vertti was fleeing and some stranger was menacing the Fox with a spear. 

His blood was up now. It throbbed behind his eyes, making him flex his meaty hands involuntarily as his boots thundered on the smooth stone. Violence contained only by a sliver of his training, focused entirely on Aer. With Mie still in the workers uniform and Belrigger on the cusp of a meltdown he only recognized a hostess about to be assaulted. 

[h2][color=9e0b0f]"NO TOUCHING THE STAFF."[/color][/h2]

At the opposite end of the arena from the kitchens, dozens of armored soldiers in polished steel armor had begun to fan out and put down the rioting crowd. Somewhere in that crowd Mirt was likely picking a fight he was guaranteed to win, Anyon in tow.