Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-69.31.217.91-20141120035513/@comment-25686329-20141127014915

Sob was already swearing, at least in his mind. He had underestimated the young man, and now he had lost the fight. He had no idea that someone so fragile looking could fight like a demon, and now he had a loss under his belt because of it.

Quinn, seeing that his friend's over-confidence had gotten him into danger once again, leaped the ropes and stode into the ring. He considered throwing Sob a blade, Sob's being a hooked machete, but elected against it; he could already tell Sob would be too mad to think straight, so instead, Quinn drew his own sword from his back; a short, fore-arm sized blade with a cup hilt, and pointed it just close enough to the attacker's throat.

"That's enough, Green-Skin." Quinn said firmly. "You win."