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"Attention bounty hunters. Spontaneous barroom brawl in three minutes."

Look, Bob, what part of this don't you understand, eh? It's a matter of style, okay? A proper brawl doesn't just happen. You don't pile in, not anymore.

Now, Oyster Dave here - put your helmet back on, Dave - will be the enemy in front, and Basalt, who as we know, don't need a helmet, he'll be the enemy coming up behind you. Okay, it's well past knuckles time, let's say Gravy there has done his thing with the Bench Swipe, there's a bit of knife play, we've done the whole Chandelier Swing number, blah blah blah, then Second Chair - that's you, Bob - you step smartly between their Number Five man and a Bottler, swing the chair back over your head, like this - sorry, Pointy - and then swing it right back onto Number Five, bang, crash, and there's a cushy six points in your pocket. If they're playing a dwarf at Number Five, then a chair won't even slow him down, but don't fret, hang on to the bits that stay in your hand, pause one moment as he comes at you, then belt him across both ears. They hate that, as Stronginthearm here will tell you. Another three points.

It's probably going to be freestyle after that but I want all of you, including Mucky Mick and Crispo, to try for a Double Andrew when it gets down to the fist-fighting again. Remember? You back into each other, turn around to give the other guy a thumping, cue moment of humorous recognition, then link left arms, swing round and see to the other fellow's attacker, foot or fist, it's your choice. Fifteen points right there if you get it to flow just right.

Oh, and remember we'll have an Igor standing by, so if your arm gets taken off do pick it up and hit the other bugger with it, it gets a laugh and twenty points. On that subject, do remember what I said about getting everything tattooed with your name, all right? Igors do their best, but you'll be on your feet much quicker if you make life easier for him and, what's more, it's your feet you'll be on. Okay, positions, everyone, let's run through it again...
— Overheard at the Mended Drum, Ankh-Morpork, Going Postal

The floorboards beneath their feet exploded upward, as a tall and muscular form in green, red, and gold raiment shot up like a human geyser from whatever lay below. It stopped just before it reached the ceiling, descended quickly to the floor, and looked at both women with an expression that baled together hatred, satisfaction, hunger, lust, and some emotions neither one of them were comfortable appraising. The denizens of Willy’s cleared away from his landing place, making for the door or hugging the walls.

Within seconds the whole tavern was fighting, violence splashing outward from Gotrek and the handgunners like ripples in a pond as elbows were bumped, drinks spilled, then insults and blows exchanged. The dwarfs and Tileans fought a gang of weaver ’s apprentices. Barmaids and harlots shrieked and dived for cover. A dozen dock workers scrapped with three nobles and their six bodyguards. Students of the university brawled with students of the School of Engineering. A company of Bretonnian crossbow-men seemed to be fighting each other. The halfling gambler rode the shoulders of a red-bearded Talabec-man, banging on his skull with a pewter dice cup. Everywhere mugs flew, bottles smashed and furniture splintered. Old Heinz beat on the bar with an axe handle — roaring ineffectively for order while his bouncers grabbed the collars of anyone they could get their hands on and chucked them out of the front door.

"Please tell me we're about to have my first bar fight. I could get things started with the ball-bashing!"
Eve, Lucifer, "All About Eve"

Bar fights are started when beer is applied to douches or sexual frustration. They are ended with karate. You're about to learn everything in between. I've scoured book stores for the finest literature and DVD sets to unlock the secrets of the drunken Orient, and now every time I have a beer 17 people die.


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