Open Chronicles The Elven Arrow

A roleplay open for anyone to join
Sorry I've been gone! I'm just going to get Tzuriel caught up from where he left off.

The big bruiser took Tzuriel down in a hit, but he didn't stay down, else he would have been trampled and certainly killed in the resulting barfight that exploded around him.
He fell backwards but quickly rolled back to his feet where he had a moment to get his breath back. He was in time to see Aeyliea tear into the drunkard and then to lay into the drunks all around them.

There was chaos and Tzuriel now had no choice but to fight for his life. Since he was crouched near the floor he was in a prime position to be attacked, but when an attacker decided to make use of that vulnerability Tzuriel quickly grabbed the man by the ankles and stood up, bringing the man crashing to the floor, probably knocking his head against the filthy planked floor.

Then Tzuriel waded through the crowd of drunk fighters in their free-for-all, sidestepping and deftly gliding around the unfocused and sloppy attacks of the intoxicated brutes. In spite of having taken a blow from a considerably larger man he didn't seem the worse for wear. He plucked a thrown bottle from the air as he made it to the bar and placed it on the counter.

Already he could tell that some on the floor would never move again, simply from the broken glass on the floor cutting in vulnerable places. Three men turned their sights on him, through no coordinated effort of their own. They charged him intent on slamming him against the counter. They were uncoordinated so he sidestepped one who cracked his teeth on the edge of the counter, at the same time he kicked a bar stool at another, causing him to trip and smack his head on the floor. And the last one he stopped dead in his tracks when he brought his elbow up and straight through the mans chin, stopping his momentum and sending the poor drunk to join the others on the floor.

The fighting was finally and quickly brought to a halt when the proprietress smacked the instigator of the barfight, the one who knocked the breath from Tzuriels lungs, over the head with one of the last bottles.
After that things calmed down and efforts to clean up were underway.
Tzuriel did a little to help, he picked up the remaining intact bottles and put them safely on the counter, but the original blow ached and when his adrenaline had died down it was a little more than difficult to breath.

His own men returned to their table and Tzuriel returned to the seat he had taken by Aeyliea. She was a fighter, as expected, and the skills of LaVaya were not unnoticed by Tzuriel either. He sat down with a sigh, his ribs were burning, the pain was dulled by the ale which only made him dread how he would feel in the morning. Especially getting ready to leave on a caravan in the morning, coming to a tavern and getting caught in a fight was probably one of his poorer decisions.
But the two women present seemed to say that this wasn't a bad decision at all.

Even though he wanted to dull the pain further he refused anymore drink, out of consideration for the proprietress and her struggling stores, and simply turned his attention on those he sat with. He concealed his discomfort well, but he couldn't help but absently massaging his sternum and sides every now and then.