God's Mistakes

The snap is almost audible, as far as these things go, one small twitch at the corner of his eyes accentuating the switch. His stance immediately becomes more predatory, the massive Timonae stalking over towards the Demarian. There's no word of warning before he lunges, his speed seeming impossible considering his size, large hands reaching for any part of Silver they can get a hold of.

Jaswinder scoots *right* back as Eylohta lunges, reaching unobtrusively for a commlink at his ear. Archaic though it be, it's better than getting caught between a knife and an exploding rock.

Thank goodness for feline grace. Silver knew that the Timonae was on edge, but the attack is still surprising. The Demarian moves up the circle, deftly avoiding the enraged strike.

Cathal's timing has been set like a fucking metronome of late. The streetfightin' man wanders his way back into the bar just in time to see Eylie's patented druggie-attack fly just shy of its intended target. He lunges forward with a roar of enthusiasm, vaulting a table to join the scuffle, "I gots yer back, Silver!" He calls, ignoring the fact that the Demarian Battleclaw probably needs this old thug not at all. He takes a broad kickboxing stance, working his hamfists through the air eagerly, "C'mon, Futureman! Let's do this!"

Eylohta is feral now, his demeanour far more animalistic and vicious than can be healthy for anyone, even for an addict - it's the addition of the harsh, blood thirsty environment that he grew up in, that truly gives the Timonae that bloodlust. Cathal makes just as good a target as any, and with a blindingly quick turn, one long leg is flung out in a kick aimed at the Lunite's head.

The addict safely involved, Jazz moves to stand near Silvereye, nodding to him. "Possibly, a good time to be out of the line of fire. I don't know how acceptable brawls are here yet."

Silvereye nods in agreement to Jaswinder before he calls to Cathal. "Don't hurt him too much! Just put him down and we'll give him back to his people!"

Cathal may not be feral, but he's instantly in the zone. He steps forward to meet the Timonae's attack, easily ducking his much shorter head beneath the man's kick, while twisting to launch one of his own to the alien's midsection. It's aimed to connect along the ribs with the big man's shin. He calls over his shoulder, "Alrigh', I won't bust nothin' he needs!"

Jaswinder watches the fight carefully, murmuring into his commlink before turning to Silvereye. "Might have to hold on to him to keep him from ..doing damage he might regret later. I've asked Tir to see to that if we need it. Or we can see what station authorities do about this kind of thing, if anything." He spreads his fingers, as if to say it's Silver's call.

Silvereye shrugs at Jaswinder. "I don't even know if there are station authorities outside of Comorro...No one has come to contact us yet, despite being a bunch of aliens with no business being here."

For Eylie, fighting seems second nature to him, no matter what state he's in. And indeed, years upon years of being thrown into all manner of violent match, be it non-fatal or fatal, has honed his skills enough that he -can- work on autopilot, and frighteningly well, at that. To those with less than stellar perception, or the casual observer, it may seem the impossibly large Timonae has simply vanished - though it's certainly not the case, the man having simply spun along the fat Lunite's side, and around to his back. His arm cocks back, his fist balls, and he slams it down towards the back of Cathal's head.

Jaswinder listens to his commlink, then nods to Silvereye. "...If Cathal looks like losing?" he asks carefully. "Not that he does that often, but we're not exactly in predictable circumstances."

Silvereye nods. "Well, we can't just leave the fat man." The Demarian replies, watching the fight. "That Timonae is a dangerous animal."

"Fuckin' fast Timonae, they're all the same!" Cathal gripes, tracking his opponent's movement and ducking juuuust in time to avoid having the back of his skull caved in. Eylie's knuckles brush through his greasy hair, disrupting a few layers of dandruff. The old brawler, spins around, rising back up from his duck with a rocketing uppercut. He crows to Silvereye, "-He ain't the only one in this room, I tell you wot-!"

Jaswinder nods. "Agreed," he says quietly, after a commlink pause, then calls to Cathal, "Hey now. Some of us can dress."

Silvereye snorts lightly, tail lashing. "Not all Timonae are dangerous animals." He replies. "Just that one. And I imagine he might even be tolerable once he gets that junk through his system."

Jaswinder grins. "I'm as harmless as a baby, I promise," he says lightly. "But Tir will help if we need to take him down, and I'm sure between the two of you it will make up for any hindrance I might be." He laughs. "I'm just Jest's prettyboy generally. But...I think we may be able to hold him. At least until his own people can take care of him."

Cathal's fist connects with the Timonae's jaw, eliciting a sickening crackle of sinew, flesh and bone as Eylie's head jerks up and back. He remains still a moment, looming like a sentinal until he finally, slowly rolls his neck from side to side, bringing forth a few more grotesque sounds. His chin soon follows, and a narrowed gaze is leveled down to the Lunite. It hurt. It -had- to hurt. But, he just seems -more- enrage, teeth bearing as he pulls back his lips and growls, deep and threatening. Quick as a whip, both arms shoot up, fingers spread and ready to catch hold of the Fat Man's neck for a good squeezing.

Tharsis returns to the tavern, a smile on his face that quickly fades as he catches sight of an altercation. Mortified, and yet curious at the same time, he proceeds further in to get a ringside seat.

For Tharsis's benefit, there's a fight going on! Cathal and Eylie seem to be mixing it up in a good ol' fashioned brawl, while Silvereye and Jaswinder watch with some concern. The ungodly large Lunite puts up a unique defence to the attempted strangling...he tucks his chin down, forcing the fat and muscle of his double chin and flabby neck to engorge and push outwards, allowing no purchase on his throat. He grins impudently at his innovation, calling to Silvereye, "Pah, I like me sleeper fists better." Or knees, apparently, as he counters by stepping forward and trying to lift a vicious one into the Timonae's abdomen.

Jaswinder nods agreement. "Subdue him, Cathal. He's not in his right mind. We'll take him to the ships and tie him down until his people can take care of this."

Tharsis moves a bit closer to the non-combatants, his expression one of horror. "What in the galaxy brought this on?"

Silvereye glances towards Tharsis. "The Timonae there is out of his mind with withdrawal. He's been trying to pick a fight since I arrived."

CRACK! What's more sickening than the last hit? The sound of a rib or two, or three? -snapping-. Slung over Cathal's leg for a moment, Eylie coughs, spewing a mouthful of purple blood on the Lunite, and the floor. He heaves, pushing one hand against his own leg to brace as he straightens out his stance, again ignoring the pain he's so obviously in. He huffs another growl Cathal's way, a quick swipe at his belt netting him Maza's Curse(The obsidian coloured dagger!), the fighter proceeding to step in and thrust the blade towards the Lunite's gut.

Tharsis just watches as blood starts flowing. "It would look like he is... eh... being soundly defeated I would guess is the term?"

Jaswinder nods agreement. "Cathal was willing to oblige, but .." he waves at the escalated fight. "We're going to need to do something when this is over. You share a time frame - any advice?"

Silvereye frowns as Eylohta draws a knife. The Demarian edges forward. "I'm going to have to get involved if Cathal doesn't stop him soon..."

"To be honest... I'm not entirely sure what to do with him. We could have Dr. Alexandra check him out... after he comes to.." Tharsis replies. "We could lock him in one of my cargo holds until then..."

Jaswinder blinks. "Alexandra....Lexi?" he muses. "If so, then this may be some surprise." He shrugs. "But a hold seems the best way." He nods to Silvereye. "If you join in, we're going to call it going for excessive force; I'll fight then. And call Tir in."

Cathal snarls back at the flash of steel, slamming down a massive palm to barely knock the knife-hand aside, seizing the arm in both crushing hands. "Why d'junkies always got -knives-?!" He complains to whatever pagan god handles such issues, twisting over and attempting to haul the huge Timonae over his back and down onto the ground in one of Cathal's patented no-technique, all-brawn shoulder throws.

Tharsis watches as Eylohta starts to get thrown about and winces.. "He's going to need more than a doctor, he's going to need reconstructive surgery..."

The sphincter-like entrance to the Last Orders Tavern opens, and a Timonese woman steps inside. Brushing back one of her long, spiral curls, Evanae proceeds inside at a careful and slightly limping pace. The uneven gait is the only thing that ruins her sophistication look of glamour... at least til she catches sight of the carnage. Then, her jaw drops open in a most undignified way.

Jaswinder nods agreememt with Silvereye. "Won't be long now. Then it's just tying him down and finding a doctor."

Unusual even among his own kind, Eylohta is -way- heavier than he seems, and it takes a moment for Cathal's efforts to show. Faithfully though, the sorely injured Timonae is hefted by the fat Lunite, and tossed a short distance. He lands with a HEAVY thud, and for a moment it seems he's out of the fight, breathing ragged, and his body still. Movement suddenly, and regardless of his injuries he quickly rolls to his feet, crouching. The grip upon Maza's hilt redoubles, and staying low, he goes for Cathal's legs, with every intention of hamstringing him.

Cathal lashes out with his heavily booted foot, catching the incoming thrust and sending it down to the bar floor (Sorry Comorro). Planting that foot, he jumps forward and twists about in mid-air, aiming to come crashing down, ass-first, onto Eylie's back. It's almost three hundred pounds of fat and genetically-enhanced muscle, aiming to slam the poor Timonae into submission.

Silvereye just blinks. "This is...some kind of atrocity, I'm sure."

"I'm a doctor," Evanae volunteers, her voice a crisp Sivadian despite her Timonese appearance. She's frowning deeply, however, seemingly unwilling to come any closer. "...is he going to sit on -me- if I step in?"

"That.. is going to seriously hurt.." Tharsis says with a wince as he watches the huge ass head towards its target...

Jaswinder shakes his head. "Eylohta isn't in his right mind. Drug withdrawal of some kind. Cathal's just beating him down enough so that someone else can get near. He won't hurt you unless you happen to want him to."

Comorro station is blessed with only a glancing blow of the hilt to the floor as Eylie makes quite a commendable, considering the extreme state of injury, effort slip out before that massive ass makes contact. Unfortunately, there's also a lot of Timmie. Seven and a half feet of it, and well, that makes for ample space to plant one's ass. Eylie goes down, and another, if muffled, set of crackles indicate something else might have broken somewhere in there.

Cathal, hearing that triumphant crack, doesn't even slow down. He just rolls straight off the man, taking a few steps and leaping atop an unoccupied table. Before the no-doubt horrified stares of locals and refugees alike, he pounds his mighty hamfists against his impossible thick chest, proclaiming for all to hear, "All o' you, take notice! I am the Captain of the Laughing Fox. I am Cathal Yoren. -I am God's Mistake-, AND I STILL...FUCKING...GOT IT!"

Silvereye sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Doctor, if you would please see to the Timonae?"

"...I... am sure you are," Evanae murmurs Cathal's way, eyes wide, but not very loudly. She slinks in, kneeling by the fallen Timonae's side. The fine fabric of her cocktail dress pools on the floor underneath as her gloved hands gently explore Eylohta, hunting down any injuries she can find. "This might be beyond my capability without an actual medbay..."

"I have some field medical equipment on board if that might help." Tharsis offers, wincing as he looks at the injured Timonae.

Jaswinder just nods, murmuring into commlink before noting, quietly, "...So that's a thousand years of progress. I think I'd better hope there aren't any cavemen around here."

Eylohta twitches, something of a garbled mix of pain and growling emitting from the Timonae like a sigh. He's not really conciously doing it though, his eyes rolled up and his eyelids fluttering. His breathing is ragged and garbled, violet blood leaking from a slackened jaw and open mouth.

Silvereye nods to Jaswinder. "He did say that he was a TK gladiator." The Battleclaw replies. "Someone decided to give him strength and forgot about the more important aspects."