Join in the Melee!

((OoC: No real rules apply other than you cannot finish an attack. The other postee must decide whether or not they're hit. So lets have fun!))

IC:

The gray schemed miniature donkey anthropomorphic creature stumbles into the fighting ring. She wears pirate garb and brandishes a cutlass and several take-forever-to-load flintlock pistols hang from her bandoleer. Her large pirate hat shades her eyes from the harsh arena lights and a wicked little grin plays across her lips.

Her stance is wide and aggresive as she raises the cutlass above her head.

"I, Six Pence Sarcy, do challenge any bilge rat fool hearty enough to take me on!"

Sir Nelix Enters the Stadium. The clanking of the Entrance gate open as well as the Yells from the crowd are sure to be enough to announce his Entrance.

"I, Sir Nelix of Crivendale, Challege thee!" He speaks swinging a rather untaunting and very short Short-Sword, of which gets caught in a fold of his Uniform's trousers, riping through. The Fox gulps as the Crowd laughs at him. His Face bitterly turns red.

"The Challege still stands." He whimpers. Holding tightly on to his Sword to the Donkey's direction.

The equine pirate tips her hat up just in time to see the fox's trousers fall. She smirks and laughs a bit, rising to face her challenger properly.

"Well, Sir Nelix, The challenge may still stand, but your trousers do not," she says with a giggling snort.

She draws her own sword, much more gracefully. The blade is just under two feet in length and well cared for. As any pirate knows they're only worth their weaponry.

"Then shall we give these peasants something to watch?"

She shifts her stance to the side, brandishing the cutlass toward the new adversary.

Sir Nelix yelps "My Trousers may not stand, but neither will you shortly!" Lunging at the Equine, waving his shortened shortsword wildly about. The foolish Fox kicking off his slashed trousers, hoping to be able to fight in his underwear.

The Crowds laughter raises, one member already throwing a tomato but misses the Fox.

Sarcy can't help but smile at her opponent's folly. Her wry smile plays across her squared off muzzle as she watches the lunge head toward her. She feels his blade strike the steel in the front busk of her corset as she sidesteps it in just the nick of time.

She peers down to see a few ravlings along hte busk where the short blade raked.

"Oh my, what a close call..." she can't help but comment as she spins, her cutlass coming down toward the backside of the fox as he passes by during the lunge.

The Fox spins around -and almost tripping on his clumsy paws- with his blade, blocking the Donkey's cutlass. Eeping at the sudden clang of metals clunging together, he yips, "For Crivendale!" jumping back and lashing at the enquine.