You stand in a room, nearly dark but for the pulse of rhythmic flashes of bright colored lights. Besides your opponent and yourself, you note a large number of bystanders who are sure to take exception to the coming carnage. Then again, knowing this crowd, they could just as easily find entertainment in an old-fashioned brawl. Spanky's is, after all, one of the more fashionable drinking establishments of Karufr.

The patrons seem to be a mix between the scantily clad women hawking their charms and the well-dressed gentlemen eager to part with their hard-earned credits. The odors in the tavern assault your senses and threaten to muddle your reflexes. Among them, you recognize over a dozen various types of stimulants—both legal and illegal—and the heady scent of, what is quite possibly, the most varied collection of liquor this side of the Galaxy.

The tavern itself is fraught with tactical advantages and disadvantages. Designed in the familiar style of all amphitheaters, the floor is slightly slanted toward a central stage where a lithe, twi'lek female is currently dancing. Littered amongst the floor are drink tables, heavily laden with glassware and other potential missiles. Uncomfortable, heavy metal chairs surround each of the tables in a semi-circle, so that the occupant's view of the stage is never hindered. The only exit, aside from the doorway where you stand, is a vaulted staircase—guarded by two very well-dressed, and heavily muscled, gentlemen—leading into parts unknown.

Small bars bracket the tavern on either side, filled with a glittering rainbow of bottles. Whatever is about to go down, you realize it would go down better with a stiff drink.

Halcyon stood for a second, thumbs tucked into his bet as he took in his surroundings. Smoke billowed to the rafters giving the place a slight haze. Over the din he could hear the piano-man caressing the ivory as he rolled from tune to tune.

Halcyon strode over to the bar. It was full today as a large group seemed huddled around it. Annoyance crept into Halcyon's face as he tried to get an opening through the crowd so he could grab a drink. He heard a voice through the throng—it was the man who held the group enthralled.

"So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em..."

"HOWLADER!" Halcyon roared, knowing exactly who's voice he heard.

"Huh, wha, who...Halc! Halloooooo. Hi. What brings you here this fine morrow?"

"A drink," he grumbled in reply, murder now in his eyes.

"Oh, good, good. They have those here!" Howlader swayed in his seat, his eyes not quite focused on anything.

Of course he's drunk, Halcyon thought, annoyance building up even more.

"I'll get one when you tell you friends to get out of the way."

"Now you see here young man," Howlader started, a Stamp of Denial shaking from his fist and pointed at Halcyon. Spanky's grew silent. The piano-man shook in his chair as he turned to see the two men stare at one another. It is known in all the land that to point a Combat Stamp at a Master-at-Arms, current or former, is tantamount to war.

"Howie..." Halcyon said, dire warnings on his lips.

"Hmmm?" Howlader questioned, before noticing what he held. "Ah, hell."

A chair was broken on somebody's back. A bottle of beer broke. A cue stick swung in anger. The former MAAs had gone to war.

Howlader rubbed at his left shoulder, where a piece of broken pool cue had impaled him. Somehow, in his…mildly disorientated (read: drunk) state, the old man had inadvertently started a bar fight. He shook his head about a few times, trying to drive the confusion and loopy thoughts from his brain, and began to focus – scanning the room for his opponent. Apparently, pointing a combat stamp at his brother had somehow caused a bar fight. How all these people were all so concerned with the actions of two Taldrya, was beyond the old master – but for the moment, his concern was finding Rokir – and shaking some sense into him.

He ran, somewhat awkwardly, towards the middle of the room, pushing some of the riotous patrons out of the way, others were knocked down by the force of Howlader’s moments, or by his flailing arms. After knocking away or down seemingly almost everyone in the bar, Howlader came across his rival: Rokir was holding a broken beer bottle, fending off two larger creatures (that Howlader did not recognize). Realizing that his opponent was distracted, Howlader knew he had one opportunity – and reached over towards the bar and grabbed a heavy pint glass, and jumped towards Rokir, aiming the glass towards the green man’s face.

Unfortunately for Howlader, he missed, and ended up in a pile on the alcohol and beer soaked floor. Howlader realized he needed a new tactic, this head on business was not going to cut it, but he resolved to end this fight the only way he knew how – with a dance number!

Howlader firmed up his stance, took a final glance around the room to scope out targets, and then put his lips together and blew.

Men and women came out into the middle of the bar, seemingly from all four corners. These people were crouched over, clad in leather jackets, holding a vibro blade in one hand - and always snapping with the other hand.

Halcyon's eyes scanned the room. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, seeing where Howlader was going with things.

"If that's how you want it, Howie," Halcyon stated, raising a hand into the air and loosening a snap of his fingers that hit the bar like a thunderclap. Half the people clad in leather jackets suddenly changed direction, moving toward Halcyon while the remaining made their way toward Howlader.

A rhythmic pounding wafted through the air as the two groups began to circle one another. The sounds were unfamiliar to the patrons, but it moved them closer as a voice suddenly sang out.

They Told Him Don't You Ever Come Around Here
Don't Wanna See Your Face, You Better Disappear

Halcyon and Howlader came face-to-face with each other. A patron grabbed a white cloth and came up to them. They brought up their fists, the patron wrapping the cloth around their wrists, binding them together.

The Fire's In Their Eyes And Their Words Are Really Clear
So Beat It, Just Beat It

They were handed knives from the crowd and began to circle one another. Their groups followed their movements as they sized each other up.

You Better Run, You Better Do What You Can
Don't Wanna See No Blood, Don't Be A Macho Man

Halcyon lashed out first, Howlader managing to twist away from it before countering with his own stab. Halcyon shimmied to the left, the knife grazing his side briefly and drawing blood.

You Wanna Be Tough, Better Do What You Can
So Beat It, But You Wanna Be Bad

The air had grown cold, a smile of triumph on Howlader’s face as Halcyon looked back with killing on his mind. The groups had begun to come closer in anticipation of a true fight, when a figure appeared in their midst. He skin-tone was unrecognizable, but he wore a bright red leather jacket, and one hand was encased in a glove that sparkled with its own internal light.

The man came up to Halcyon and Howlader, untying the knot around their wrists. The air had changed once more, this time infusing everyone with a new need. The need came to them as the music played once more, blaring out from everywhere

Just Beat It, Beat It, Beat It, Beat It
No One Wants To Be Defeated
Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight
It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right

They gyrated in unison, the entire bar moving as one. The man-in-red led them, as Halcyon and Howlader instinctively, followed his movements, their legs kicking high and their crotches grabbed in perfect synchronization.

Just Beat It, Beat It
Just Beat It, Beat It

As the words began repeating the man-in-red disappeared, but the feeling of euphoria still lingered. The other leather-clad men faded away as the bar patrons started moving back to their seats. Howlader looked over at Halcyon, a giddy smile plastered across his face.

Halcyon threw a right-cross at Howlader’s face, dropping his now unconscious form to the ground. He stepped over the sprawled body and went to grab his drink from the bar.

The leather clad men and women continued their snapping and jiving towards the centre of the bar, all of their eyes were fixated on the Prophet in green. They knew who the enemy was, and they all knew what needed to be done – all that was required as an opportunity, one of them to get in close and finish the job. Howlader chuckled to himself as he ducked out of the way of another oncoming bottle – he knew that his gang of sharks would be the end of his green clothed rival.

Without warning, the bar exploded with a flash of light and smoke, and Howlader found himself lying face first in a puddle of ale and blood. Rubbing his sore jaw as he roused himself back upwards, he realized how much quieter the bar had become in just a few short seconds. Howlader gazed around the room, trying to focus his eyes and ascertain what just happened. As his eyes moved towards the bar’s entrance, the smoke began to thin and he could see a tall, and somewhat shapely figure within the entranceway of Spanky’s – as Howlader drew closer, he recognized it as Chaosrain Taldrya, wearing his somewhat traditional fishnet stockings and stiletto shoes. Normally, Chaos had to be cajoled into putting on the outfit, usually at the behest of Howlader – and even then it was very difficult.

As Howlader drew in closer, he noticed a difference between the Obelisk’s current appearance and past images; he was missing the blonde wig. Howlader was about to comment on it, when Chaosrain spoke:

"I know what you’re going to say. What am I doing here? Yacks said someone was wrecking his bar with his damn fool antics, and I drew the short straw."

Howlader gestured towards Chaosrain’s clothing and responded: "What’s with the outfit, though? They wouldn’t let you in as a man?"

Chaosrain responded curtly: "Shut up."

Howlader laughed, and then it occurred to him, where was Halcyon? He scanned the room in a mild panic, only to see the Prophet hunched over the bar, asleep.

Chaosrain noticed Howlader’s reaction to Halcyon's state: "Oh, that. I wasn’t told who was wrecking the place, and he was closer."