As Leite's explanation went on, Rage nodded and smiled as sweetly as he could. Even when she confessed to him that Keinruf was her boyfriend, his expression didn't change. Internally, he sighed, but he just smiled and nodded. It wasn't the first female he had tried to 'get to know' that had another partner, but it did make things a bit harder. Of course, Rage supposed that that just came with the territory. Regardless, he wasn't going to let something like that stand between him and his goals. He'd just have to improvise.

When Keinruf himself found his way over to their table, however, the polecat's mind began calculating. Normally such discussions with females were had in private. The fact that the opposing partner was now at the table with them brought an added factor to the (metaphorical) table. Regardless of all this, however, Rage's face stayed it's same jovial self. No sense troubling Leite with such things. Besides, he didn't want to give away his plan too quickly. Wouldn't make things fun.

Offering his paw across the table, Rage smiled a little wider at Keinruf. "Nice to meet you. Keinruf, I presume. I'm Ragequilerus Telarma; it'd be a bit easier to call me Rage." Grasping the marten's paw after he raised it slowly to return the gesture, the polecat shook it solidly. If there was anything his father had taught him in his youth, it was that males appreciated strength and straightforwardness. Before Rage gave this individual something to dislike about him (if he didn't already dislike him thanks to his actions towards Leite), he wanted to make a good impression.

"So Leite tells me that you, as the new-found leader of the Kreehold, are recruiting. I must say, this interests me a great deal." Sitting back down in his chair, the polecat tore a piece of his muffin away and stuffed it into his mouth. No sense talking business on an empty stomach. "Now," he continued, swallowing the piece of pastry. "What exactly do the Kreehold... do?" Reaching for his cup, Rage took a sip of his tea, chasing the muffin down his throat.

It was at this point that the polecat noticed the martens ear twitching. It had only just started, and now Keinruf had the semblance of a smirk on his face. Rage wasn't exactly sure what he was so smug about; to the polecat it looked as if he had fleas. Still, he tossed that aside for the moment as Keinruf began to explain the duties that a Kreehold would hold.

"Vell, ve do vhatever ve are hired to do. Killink, stealink, guardink. Anyt'ink." Throughout his explanation, Rage couldn't help but focus on the martens ear. It was still twitching. A curious expression came over the polecat's features as he tried to figure out what exactly was the cause of such bodily behavior. And then his memory kicked in.

Out of his peripheral vision, as he had been listening to Leite explain her situation, Rage had noticed Keinruf walk over and talk to one of the rats that had come in with them. And he had twitched his ear. Twice. His eyes narrowing, the polecat tried to piece it all together. And then it all seemed so simple.

Smiling across at Keinruf, Rage nodded in approval. "It sounds very interesting, I must say. Not to be change the subject, nor to be rude, though... Your ear is twitching. I don't suppose you have fleas, possibly?"

Keinruf's eyes widened a little, then reached a paw up to his ear. "Yes... I haff fleas..." Scratching his ear to make an exhibition of that fact, Keinruf turned away from the table and coughed rather loudly. Dale the rat turned about and glanced towards his Kreehold Captain. And noticed his ear twitching.

It took a few seconds for the rat to comprehend what was going on. Perhaps he had a bit too much to drink already. Nevertheless, by the time he had started towards the table that the two martens and the polecat were sharing, Rage had figured out the ploy. He was smirking about it, even. He stared back at Keinruf, who, in turn, stared back at him. It was like a standoff without standing. So Rage decided to make the next move.

"So how long have you known Leite?"

(It should be noted that this was a coldly calculated question. Something that Rage reasoned would trigger some sort of impulse in Keinruf. As such, as soon as the words had left his mouth, the polecat had shoved himself backwards from the table and stood up.)

They never saw it coming.

Dale the rat came in from Rage's right, diving at him in a flying tackle-type move. Likewise, Keinruf had leaped up on his chair and had sprung himself across the table. So the polecat moved. To his right, out of the martens path, and crouched over so his back was to the ceiling. Subsequently, Keinruf landed where Rage had been standing, and Dale went flying over the marten, landing with a rather heavy thud on the ground, his head mere inches from the wall.

Smirking to himself as he looked down at the two prone figures, Rage shook his head. He had figured for more of a challenge. Of course, when the fox that had arrived as part of the Kreehold group called out as well, the polecat grinned a little wider.

Turning around to face the fox, who was flanked by one of the ferrets that Keinruf had been speaking with, Rage grinned. "'Ey! What do you think you're doing?!" the fox called. Instinctively, his paw went to his hip. Drawing his cutlass, the fox pointed across the room at the polecat. "You can't treat the Kreehold like that!"

Stalking towards the seemingly unarmed polecat, the fox grinned. This would be all but too easy. Of course, the flurry of motion that Rage went through before the fox reached him slowed him considerably. Staring oddly at the polecat, who was now grinning devilishly at the fox, Holepaw wondered what had just transpired.

The yelp from across the room helped clear things up. Turning to look at the source of the noise, Holepaw recognized his rat compatriot, Likdin, holding his paw. His cutlass had clattered to the floor, the handle of it laced with traces of blood. Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, the fox turned back to the polecat.

(It should now also be noted that, for those of you who can catch quick motions, you would've been able to see Rage reach into the folds of his trenchcoat, pull a dagger from a secret pocket there-in and toss it with deadly accuracy all the way across the room to catch Likdin's paw just as the rat finished drawing his blade, thus removing it from his grasp.)

Holepaw wasn't going to have any of this. Pointing at the polecat with his free paw, the fox snarled. "You'll pay with your life, polecat!" Rage wasn't exactly sure why the Kreeholder was so vicious; it wasn't as if he had seriously handicapped his friend for life. It was a superficial wound, if anything; the polecat had no motive to actually kill any of these Kreeholders. If that happened, it was a shame, but... To be fair, they had attacked him first.

A lunge from the fox brought Rage out of his stupor. It was down low, to the polecat's left. So he went upwards, and to his right. Taking a leaping step to his right, Rage planted a footpaw on the side of the bar counter and propelled himself forwards into the room. Curling into a ball as he flew, the polecat rolled himself forwards as he hit the floor, causing himself to go into a somersault. Leaping up to his feet as he came full-circle, Rage took a deep breath and turned around to face his opponent. He was now behind where the fox had been; the ferret had scarpered off somewhere else.

Holepaw was a bit confused and dumbfounded; the polecat had been there moments before, but now he was gone. It troubled the fox; surely his thrust couldn't have disintegrated the beast. Of course, it all became quite clear when he heard the soft thud of Rage behind him. Turning about, Holepaw became much more angry than curious. Gritting his teeth, Holepaw yelled and began a charge towards the polecat.

Reaching inside the folds of his trenchcoat once more, Rage grinned as he pulled open the small flap just inside the lining of the coat. In a flash, the polecat had pulled a full-length, straight-bladed sword, reminiscent of that that the beasts of the Far East carried. Bringing it up before him, the polecat placed both paws on the handle of the sword. If it was a fight the fox wanted, it was a fight he'd get.

Now, there are quite a number of ways that this battle could've gone on. Frankly, however, sometimes it is best to leave things to a persons imagination. Other times, a person doesn't care to use their imagination (or just doesn't have one at all to use). As such (and for the sake of brevity, for, if I were to actually describe this to you, the explanation would be thrice as long), the basics to this fight should be laid out. For one, Rage did not have to try very hard to overcome the fighting 'ferocity', if you could call it that, of his opponent. Two, there were no serious blows that were struck; all were parried or blocked. Three, Rage did not throw blows himself; he merely defended himself from the enraged fox. And, finally, four, the battle ended thusly:

Having fought themselves around in a circle, their feet moving smoothly, Rage had to admit that Holepaw could handle his cutlass quite well. He needed some work to perfect his style, obviously, but, for the most part, the fox could defend himself in a fight. But Rage was growing tired of this whole exchange. Taking a quick survey of their immediate surroundings, Rage formulated his next course of action. Now to wait for the next strike to come...

Sure enough, as the fox had done a few times over before, he dove forwards with a thrust that looked as if it was directed at Rage's midsection. It was a good ploy, because the natural defense was to jump backwards and lean your upper body forwards to escape the weapon. The next part of the move was the killing blow, should it connect. Holepaw reversed the direction of the blade, turning it over in his paw so that the sharp edge was pointing upwards, and brought it slicing upwards between the two figures.

Having successfully escaped the wrath of the blade, Rage stepped up high with his footpaw as he moved backwards. Catching it on the side of a chair, the polecat pushed himself off into the air. Throwing his forearm forward into the back edge of the cutlass, Rage used the foxes momentum, along with his own weight, to drive his arms back. Flipping around in mid-air, the polecat landed behind the fox. The cutlass clattered to the floor. Raising his sword to his side, Rage brought it in front of him.

When the blow was done, Rage let go of the sword and booted the fox to the floor. He had managed to slide his blade around the foxes arm, fitting it between his wrist and the back of his neck. Likewise, the tip of the blade was keeping the other arm held back above the foxes head. He had rendered him basically immobile, with the exception of his legs, which were kicking wildly from his position on the floor.

Chuckling a little to himself, Rage shook his head and turned around. Coming face to face with the tip of a sabre. Held by a rather evil looking ferret, the darker colored one that Keinruf had been speaking with earlier. "Gotta make a good impression first day on the job," he remarked with a snarl.

Rage smirked and nodded. "Quite." He knew exactly how this whole endeavor was going to turn out, and couldn't agree more. Folding his arms across his chest, he reached into each of his sleeves with the opposite hands and brought them back out with a swift movement. Bringing one of the slightly curved knives across his body once more, the polecat threw the ferrets sabre to the side, pushing it far enough that it fell from his grasp. Pushing the ferret himself backwards, until they were up against the wall, Rage grinned down into his face. It wasn't everyday he got to have such fun.

Effectively pushing him up the wall, Rage brought his knee up into the ferrets groin, resulting in a rather high-pitched squeal from said ferret. Placing one dagger between his teeth, the polecat reached over and pulled up a section of the ferrets jacket. Stabbing the other dagger through the fabric into the wall, Rage grinned as it stayed. The fabric didn't rip; it was of good quality. The ferret had some good taste in clothing.

Repeating the process yet again above the other shoulder, the polecat stepped back and nodded triumphantly. The ferret wasn't going anywhere, and neither was that fox. A sharp sound, as if metal being dragged across wood, suddenly filled the room. Or filled it as much more as it could be filled, given that the ferret was crying and squeaking, and the fox was yelling profanities at Rage.

Reaching into his trenchcoat once more, the polecat drew a hatchet from it. Turning, he threw it across the room, sending it spiralling end over end. The blade of it hit home exactly where he had aimed it, the cutlass that Likdin was once again trying to pick up. Both the blades went clattering into the corner, the cutlass torn from the rats grasp yet again. Likdin stared with wide eyes at Rage, who merely smirked and shook his head. "Not a good idea." All that the polecat received as a reply was a squeak, before the rat turned and took a long swig from his cup of ale.

Chuckling, somewhat sadly, as he surveyed the damage he had done, Rage shook his head once more. It was always interesting, fighting more than one beast at a time. Still, fighting them all in quick succession was much more satisfying; you got to pick the way you ended it, as opposed to just going with the flow.

Thinking these thoughts brought a realization to Rage's mind. Turning around to face the corner of the room he had started in, the polecat wondered what he was going to do with Keinruf and Dale. Of course, he couldn't exactly finish that train of thought, because, as soon as he turned around, he was hit with a little bit more than full-grown rat.

Landing on his back with a thud, Rage blinked a few times as he stopped the room from spinning. It was bad enough that he had been blind-sided by the rat, but he had to go and crack his head on the floorboards as well. Dale had subsequently rolled off of Rage at a call from a foreign-sounding voice, and the polecat merely shook his head. Sitting himself up, he rubbed the back of his head and looked up at Keinruf, who was standing directly over him.

Smirking a little, Rage merely shrugged. "How's your head?"