Since i've still got nothing, guest blog from a friend of mine. - Sean
“Jupiter Jazz” doesn’t
necessarily wish that was his real name, but he does like Cowboy Bebop. A
writer of fiction, shitposter of forums and existential epithet of humanity in
general, Jupiter Jazz enjoys spinning a good yarn as much as he enjoys playing (and
nitpicking) various MMOs—among other things. Find his blog “Visions” at
[inexosino.wordpress.com].
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A w a k e n i n
g t h e M a l e
B r a w l e r
Beneath
the proud dojos, the great fiery forges, and the hopeful cries of burgeoning
martial artists, there lies a darker side of Suju—one lined in bloody grit,
echoed with screams and taunts, and ruled by fists of steel.
Welcome,
as they say, to hell.
Street
rats perpetually flock into these underground arenas, ready to test their
mettle. They seek respect, or riches, or power; what they find are their
deaths. Only the strongest and smartest survive—and of them, only the most
ruthless make it out on top. There is no chivalry, no code of honor; there are
no rules, except for one: Fight, or die.
Bricks
become bludgeons. Needles become knives. Fists and feet become unstoppable
weapons—because where cunning fails, brute force excels. Those who laugh at
such a sight, of two men improvising in a fight to the death, have obviously
never faced a Suju Brawler in mortal combat.
Faris,
champion of the Female Brawlers, sneers at these fighters. She calls them
clumsy, oafish brutes who appreciate none of the finesse of poison or stealth.
There is no technique, no methodical approach, no style or elegance—and in turn
she, too, is mocked. “Technique?” they laugh. “Style? Elegance? You chose the
wrong path, Faris; you ain’t a Striker!”
What
exists is only cruel intelligence and wiry brawn. To these elite few—the
strongest, the smartest, the most ruthless—underground brawling is not merely a
sport. They breathe it. They lust for it. They live it.
This
is why they call themselves the Streetlords, the undisputed kings of the
underworld.