[CLOSED] Now I know I got to play my hand. What the winner don't know, a gambler understands.

[beatupgrass]

Who: Rocket (beatupgrass) & various others
What: A series of closed prompts for stuff Rocket is up to this month.
When: From September 1st to September 13th
Where: Various places.
Warning(s): Some vaguely alluded to cybernetic surgery. Will update as needed



[PROMPTS BELOW.]

Comments

[beatupgrass]

[After disgusting lizard meat on the road to Olympia, Rocket will eat just about anything as long as he doesn't know what it was before it was cooked, so he's being a bit more voracious, only pausing in his assault of the meat to give the people punching each other and whacking each other with swords and whatever an appraising look.]

I got ten silver on the big dude who didn't bring armor. [He points to a muscly dude who is indeed foregoing armor for the sake of better maneuverability, and his punches always seem to find the weak spots.] He's ballsy. I can respect that.

[kissintime]

He's stupid, is what he is. [She is not nearly so impressed. Brawling is her usual way too, but when you need to be smart and play on the same field as your opponent.] I'll put ten on muscleman. "Brain over brawn" is an old cliche if you ask me! Brain doesn't help you when someone slams your chest with an iron fist.

[beatupgrass]

Brains keep you from gettin' punched at all. [He taps his temple, clearly smug.] 'Course you gotta back it up with speed and the ability to think tactically. If you want a real gamble, I bet I could take all these losers if I could use everything to my advantage.

[aka cheat.]

[kissintime]

Hah! Gamble? No way. I don't think I would bet against you. [Said with a wave of her stick at him, tiny bits of the meat falling off as she does.] Although, you could make a business out of that. Hustle them fast and quick! Better way of making cash around here than working the grind I say.

[beatupgrass]

That ain't a bad idea. Y'know, I have heard about people talkin' about a fight club around here. Everyone shuts up about it real quick if you catch 'em at it, but I'm sure I can get some information eventually.

[He finishes the last of his mystery meat, runs his tongue over his lips in a vaguely catlike manner and then gestures with the bare stick towards the Palace proper.] Better than picking on a bunch of idiots trying to flex their way into some fancy noble's good graces.