first one to make that doctor who joke loses

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Who: Everyone! All of you!
Broadcast: Maybe!
Action: Definitely!
When: Anytime during the toxic moon event!

---

[boy oh boy, isn't everyone just so excited to explore this... charming... place...?

this is a game-wide mingle and the timeframe isn't super-important, so throw in with whatever you want! play war games, go shopping for gas masks, get lost in the wilderness, hide up in the Iskaulit and refuse to set foot on the moon, anything goes.

here's the main event info post for reference! have fun!]

Comments

[collegedropout]

[He laughs, flicking a loose lock out of his face.]

Only here because they finally caught me hustling pool today. I guess I'm a little rusty after all this time, you know? [But hey, he got a lot of straight-up cash from it, so he can't complain too much.] This isn't a bad way to get some credits, too, but... uh. Usually I prefer to not get punched in the face.

Already enough of that back home.

[He assumes the punching position, broad shoulders coiled and arms loose-elbowed and ready. People here can be pretty tough, but a lot of them don't usually get into life-or-death fistfights with werewolves and vamps and demons, so he's had an edge as of late, with his father's old combat training put to good use.]

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

[Arthur sets his feet and brings up his arms, tense and ready.] No punching in the face or groin, then. Agreed?

[This isn't his type of fighting. He's better at wrestling, but he enjoys boxing in a weird way. He likes to exhaust himself, to feel a few bruises the next morning. The person refereeing the fight is waiting until they're ready to start, tensed as they are.]

[collegedropout]

[He grins a dimpled grin, hunkering down just enough to be more on Arthur's literal level.]

You got it, pal.

[He opens and closes his heavy hands, knuckles not quite sharp but certainly large. Good for covering a lot of punching room. The audience cheers them on -- some heckle the two in the ring, poke fun, but it's all in good spirits. Sam can appreciate a little lightheartedness in fighting.

Lord knows it isn't usually.

He steps toward, guarded and ready, sizing up Arthur's posture, John's training coming back -- his dad's voice tickling a place in the back of his mind.]

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

[One dimpled grin meets another. The referee starts the fight, and Arthur's watching him closely with sharp eyes. When he takes a step forward, Arthur's moving forward then. He's pretty quick on his feet, and he sends a punch toward his stomach. Someone had to move first, and Arthur's mostly testing him to see how much information he can gather about his fighting with this punch.]

[collegedropout]

[Sam jumps back out of the way of the punch, long legs carrying him far; it's a skilled, swift motion born from a life of fighting, Arthur can probably gather. Despite his bookish and rather -- for lack of a better word -- gentle personality outside of the ring, he shows confidence and focus here now. With one fist he throws a rough jab towards the man's jaw; he's fast and strong, but Arthur's at least got his smaller stature to rely on in the wake of Sam's broad-shouldered energy.

Sam personally isn't super skilled in boxing, per se. He's more in tune with the military moves his father had taught, but he's got a lot of upper strength and durability; considering what he's been hit by, one would only hope he's developed a bit more resistance to blunt force.]

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

[Sam moves like he's been trained. Arthur moves like he's trying to keep strict control of his body, like it's a choreographed dance that he can't forget the steps to. He takes advantage of how fast he is, but Sam is fast, too, and Arthur just barely moves out of the way. He can hear his fist whiz by his face.

His right arm still aches with an old injury from his past sometimes, but he pushes through it. He's doubtful he'll get a punch in on him now, so he holds up his hands, and waits to see what Sam will do next.]

[collegedropout]

[Sam steps backward, sizes the guy up, keeps an eye out for any weaknesses — any limbs or joints that Arthur favors compared to the others. But he's always been told to keep things tight-quarters, keep the guy guessing, keep him from getting comfortable with the distance. He moves toward on his lean long legs and jabs lightly, testing, towards Arthur's face. Keep him moving, keep him from thinking too hard about his next plan of attack.]