Completed [The Spinning Coin] For Justice (Kreig, Markus)

[Radiant]

OOCTimestamp changeable upon request

The Spinning Coin, 20th of Bell, 55th of Summer 513 A.V

Ales were procured, coins were exchanged, and fists were flying at cage fighting.

In the shady establishment belonging to Gene Duval known as "The Spinning Coin". Four men were gathered near a table, doing some good ol' gambling. Their rowdy laugh echoed in the place, having a jolly good time. These men may looked like ordinary patrons, but these men had physically and mentally violated a squire of the order without any visible remorse or guilt. They thought they were above the law and what they did would forever be drowned in history... but it all would change that night...

OOCFeel free to decide their physical appearances

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig could see them…. As he sat on a stool, his back lying against the bar counter, he watched the fight in the cage and in his line of sight were the four. Kreig had torn both sleeves of his black shirt and wore his patchy old pair of breeches, his hair was quite a mess and the skin of his face was dirty. The brawler looked like some laborer after a long day of work, a particularly bad one at that…. But in truth he was keeping watch on the four, at the back of his waist hung a pair of sturdy old gauntlets and tucked into his pants was the old handaxe he acquired during a bandit attack in the winter season, its head facing away from his flesh for obvious reasons.

Those four…. If Fallon’s description matched, those four were he assailants, well, three of the four. One of them had his back turned and Kreig could not see his face. The first of the oh so jovial quartet was a bald man, he seemed to be moving about the table with his arms waving about, telling some tale. He looked to be perhaps 6’1” in height, his right cheek and left side of his forehead were covered in liver spots…indicating the man was old aged or perhaps on the verge of it, or simply that he spent plenty of time in the sun.

The second was a hairy and overweight man, he was sitting, listening to his friends jokes and enjoying a hearty meal as his eyes wandered about ‘Searching for your next conquest, petchers?’ Kreig silent asked, his anger barely concealed by the fact that he only gave them quick glances while turning his head to a terrible fight in the cage. The man was perhaps 5’10”, roughly Kreig’s height….

The Third, the last of those he could see clearly… was clearly a youthful sod, he had long blond hair kept in a ponytail, his most defining features were his hawkish looking face; thin with a beak-like nose. Its possible that he was only younger than Kreig by only a year or so, his height maybe 5’11”. All the remains to be confirmed is the fourth…. And Kreig could probably bea them to his hearts content.

‘They would pay’ Kreig thought, reaching for a mug of ale, taking only licks of it as to keep up the illusion of him being a simple patron…. Only Gene Duval knew the truth of who he was, and of certain other patrons here. Did he know why they were here? Perhaps, even If he didn’t, the knights will pay for damages…. Kreig’s emotions were like a bubbling cauldron ready to spill over, and there they were… the four who violated his friend, the person he cared about most in this city…. Yes, they will pay dearly and his fists will make sure of that.

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[Markus Andres]

Markus had not bothered with any sort of disguise or the sorts. Thinking he would stand out more if anyone recognized him and he was dressed like his companion as a laborer. He was wearing civilian clothes, naturally, his simple black set. He had found a good place by the wall to stand, he could pretend to be watching the brawl between a pair of lousy fighters while he kept an eye out for the other patrons. The mug of ale in his hand had gone stale and Markus had mostly stopped drinking from it. Carried the Bastard by his hip. Sheathed, for now, just below another weapon. A simple dagger Markus had borrowed from the armoury. Better suited inside the spinning coin. Markus rarely walked around without either of those weapons, so seeing him without would also be unusual. Besides, if anyone tried to run, they were guilty. Markus eyes sought Natasha's other squire. Kreig Messer. A man whose lust for vengeance matched Markus' own. He looked the part of a labourer relaxing after a long hard day's work. He caught where the old squire eyes were looking. The most prominent feature on the young knight was the fierce scowl that suddenly manifested itself. The mouth oft turned into a smile or bellowing with a roaring laughter was barely more than a thin line as the teeth behind the lips were clenched tightly. For his eyes had fallen upon a quartet of patrons. His eyes narrowed in disgust as their laughter reached his ears. His eyes looked over the bald dome of the man who's back was facing Markus, and squarely on the face of the man facing away from the bar. He looked smaller and thinner than the others, especially the overweight man on the right. His thin crooked nose had a unnatural bend. Probably a broken nose that had not healed properly. If Markus got his hands on the little shyke, he would get a second chance for it to heal properly. And a third... Likely a fourth as well. He had small dark eyes and his hairline was receding and had left him with a very prominent widows peak pointing down to his crooked nose. But he looked older than Markus, a lot older. Perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. He looked much paler than the others he could see, spent less time outside the city. He reminded Markus of a rat, vermin to be exterminated. The other three, barring the man facing away from Markus, also matched the description Markus had gotten from Fallon. Markus could not recall when he had last felt such a primal rage as when he had been told about Fallon. Looking at these four, smug bastards. Sitting there enjoying themselves after doing something so despicable. The mug of ale Markus had been holding cracked and shattered in his hand. Luckily he had drained most of content. As the rest of it fell to the floor. Shoddy craftsmanship. Markus looked to his arms and noticed he was shaking barely contained anger. Markus eyes shifted to another patron who had seen it shatter. Markus offered him a shrug in response. He brushed the remains of the mug off of his hand. He would wipe the grins off of their lips. He would look at Kreig and should he catch the squire's attention he would nod and move towards the men. If he didn't catch the attention of the squire, then he would still approach the men, figuring Kreig would see him when he was at the table. Markus' hands would rest against the backside of the bald man's chair. Mainly to stop him from strangling the life out of the man sitting on the chair. "You assholes having fun?" His glaring eyes shifting from scum to scum. His hand white from holding the chair so tight. "Like when you defiled my friend... You disgusting vermin!" The last accusation was spat out with such fury that Markus flung the chair aside.

[Radiant]

"What?" One of the men, the overweight one cocked an eyebrow at Markus. The others also followed suit, their face frowning, except the hawk-like young man who merely kept a small smug smirk on his face.

"Well well, I don't know what your business here, boy" The oldest of the group spoke, arms crossing over his chest "So, petch off" The rest of the group chuckled, some kind of random young man accusing them of something... something they definitely did, but of course, their conscience had somehow died a long time ago.

"Maybe... if this guy is so itching for a fight, he can take all of us on in the cage..." The hawk-like man finally spoke, scratching his right cheek with his hand. A mocking expression on his face.

"So, boy care to walk your talk?"

[Kreig Messer]

Markus Andres, a knight who was years younger than the brawler whom he sat beside. The youthful knight share Kreig’s pure desire to bring justice to those who had hurt a friend…. And an equally pure desire to unleash their hatred on them. Kreig simply stared at first, his hatred filled glances drifting from the fights to the four, but then Markus made his move… the youth breaking his wooden mug. He made his way to the four, whilst Kreig simply stared for the moment. Markus wore no markings indicative of his knighthood, making his emotional outburst and truthful accusation a simple joke to them… It was when they began laughing that Kreig made his way

"Maybe... if this guy is so itching for a fight, he can take all of us on in the cage..."

"So, boy care to walk your talk?"


Kreig couldn’t help but laugh, a hollow, toneless laugh as he began to quote a line from one the many so-called scriptures of Dira born out of the many death fanatics whom kill themselves for the Goddess’ favor “And thus their ignorance brings about a hollow laugh, thinking their actions uncaught, their souls too hidden beneath the soil that they thought themselves hidden from Dira’s gaze….. until her grip upon their very hearts told them that nowhere could they flee from her. Not east, west, north and south…. Not in Zulrav’s skies, Laviku’s waters and not even deep beneath Semele’s earth” His hand suddenly placed upon the Hawkish youth’s shoulder, pulling him up and spinning him around “ For there was no salvation for those who brought upon death’s wrath, nor was there any respite” Kreig looked deep into the guiltless youth’s eyes.


“I’m sure my friend here could walk his talk, I’ll be happy to help him as well. Four against two, should be… more than a fair fight” Kreig said, his voice barely containing his rage. The fight in the cage having just ended and freed up for use “Fair warning though…. None of you shall leave that cage in one piece. None of you shall walk out that door without having lost the ability to reproduce. I mean, it’s bad enough you hurt our friend, but DEFILED her?!….I can barely, just barely, temper this rage with the thought of ripping off one of your limbs and beating you to death with it right here and now” Kreig tightened his grip on the youth’s shoulder “ So yes…. Let us ‘Walk the talk’ as you so wisely put it. I’m sure your numbers will prove oh so valuable, isn’t that right Markus?” Kreig partially glanced at the knight for confirmation, his grip tightening on the youth.

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[Markus Andres]

Each breath that escaped these men's foul mouths tested Markus' ability to control himself and not go bat-shit insane and tear these men apart with his bare hands. Markus sneered at the men. Horrible disgusting vile examples of human depravity. Men belonging to Sunberth and not Syliras. Markus' hand slowly moved across his body and touched the hilt of the bastard. He would not stand for these men to mock him so, not these men. Not any man. Killing them in cold blood would be doing the world a justice. Besides, he was a knight. He held the law of Syliras in his hand. He doubted any knight would even bat an eye when they found out what these men had done. Had done to their own sister "Wh-" A hollow laughter broke Markus' words before they even left his mouth. Devoid of any mirth. Markus eyes shot to the newcomer, Kreig, before his eyes turned to the damned men again. Markus had not even considered honouring their offer for a fight. His rage nor pragmatism desired a fair fight. Such men did not deserve a chance for life. Nor did they deserve a quick death. Markus eyes turned to Kreig. Accepting their offer. Cornering Markus, almost forcing him to accept. He could not dishonour a brother's wish. Natasha's other squire's rage equalled Markus' own. If not exceeded. The squire was far more eloquent than Markus' rage-stunned brain could even begin to attempt. But such eloquence was lost upon these. So, his words were few. Simple. And to the point. "We will fight you on his terms. But another word leave your lips, I'll cut you down right here. Each and everyone one of you." Markus' hand still holding the hilt of his sword. There was no doubt, that Markus hoped these four would test him. He moved off to the side and allowed the men to pass by. They would enter the ring first. Markus would not let these men out of his sight. Not for one petching second.

[Radiant]

"Don't touch me..." The hawk-like man patted Kreig's hands away with surprising strength, he still had the smug look on his face. He returned his gaze to Kreig with unflinching eyes. "Dira? Hey man, bastard be crazy, maybe we can send him to his beloved Goddess intead. Hahaha!" The man spoke to his fellow criminals. He then cracked his fists and neck "Alright, let's fight... all of us against you and your friend there..."

"Cut us down? Here? We dare you, boy!" The old one spat at Markus and actually spat at his shoes, rubbing his mouth and grinned at the disguised Knight "Brandish that blade and let's see what Gene has to say..."

"That's right, no weapons in my establishment, take your business outside or in the cage..." Gene Duval, who had been watching the heated exchange, decided to chime in. "I don't care if you're the son of Loren Dyres himself, no murder will happen here... if you guys want to kill each other, do it outside..."

"Hear the man, boy. Well then..." At the gesture of the old man, the four scums then shoved their way to the cage, entering and doing some warm-ups to face the duo "Ready when you are, or... are you afraid, chickens?"

OOCAlright, guys, feel free to RP the fight.

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig simply glared at the youth, then at the rest of the bastards. Did they think that just because they had traumatized Kreig and Markus' FRIEND, se wouldn't dare say anything to the knights? Did they assume that because Kreig and Markus look like average joes and not like proper members of the order, that both of their words were against theirs. Kreig continued glaring at these stupid pieces of shyke before him, such fools dared to defile their friend…

He then directed his gaze toward Gene Duval, the proprietor of this establishment. Kreig liked the man, he really did, but at this point Kreig hated most everybody and nearly didn't give a shyke about the rules '...But, once we are in the cage, there is no running' That thought was soothing to be perfectly honest, he took the gauntlets off his waist and placed i on the table, then looked at Gene Duval again 'This here is Knight Business' He mouthed, it was to be a fair warning.... as Kreig made no promise not to paint the cage with their blood.

He cracked knuckes, the joints of his neck and shoulders as he made his way into the cage, certain the young knight did the same. Kreig then resumed his glaring at the quartet, the cage door closed and locked behind Markus and He.

"Ready when you are, or... are you afraid, chickens?"

Kreig couldn’ help but laugh another hollow one “Us…chicken? Oh I’m sure you know we are from personal experience, I mean… four men, gang up on a defenseless woman. How brave…” Kreig clapped slowly “…Oh so very very brave. Not only do you lack any brains but you oh so lack a sense of humanity, I mean…. I thought whatever shat you out would have had the decency to toss you away. But lo and behold, I see four vile excrements walking on two legs” Kreig laughed again, faking an ache in his side as he rested a hand on it and another on the cage “…your nothing but craven cowards, don’t pretend to be brave. Even now you show your cowardice” Kreig’s voice then became empty as he stood up straight and looked at each of their eyes “I am a man from Sunberth and I believe you’ve given even the lowliest scum from their a little dignity. Believe when I say…. We will cripple you”

With that Kreig wasted no time as he approached the hawkish youth, his hand snapping forward to grab him by the face. Only for the youth to knock the hand aside and throw a quick jab at Kreig’s face, one that narrowly missed as Kreig moved his head to the side and moved forwards till he looked the Hawkish man in the eyes again “ You…you held the knife, didn’t you?” Kreig asked as the youth’s eyes had widen in shock, only to be spun around, feel a strong tug as his right arm was pulled back.

Kreig held the arm straight, the youth’s elbow facing upwards as Kreig’s left arm was brought down with considerable force against the elbow. A crunch, a very satisfying crunch was heard as the youth screamed in pain. Oh but it did not stop there, no, Kreig proceeded to repeat the process with the arm…and another satisfying scream was heard. The lad was forced to his knees…. He wanted to wallow in pain but Kreig would not let him yet as he lifted hup. He could see the tears in his eyes dripping down his face “ You lot really do need brains” Kreig told the lad, and before the boy could pass out from the pain, Kreig kneed him very hard between the legs and let him drop before turning to the other dregs, his back resting against the cage, arms crossed and hatred filled eyes gazing at the men.

“By the way… . I don’t know you realized this, but if two gents like us know what you did, what makes you think the Knights don’t know… what makes you think they aren’t here, right now, amongst the crowd. Waiting for you outside this very establishment, at every exit conceivable?” Kreig asked, trying to distract them with his words to allow Ser Markus a blow against one of them “Have you really failed to take such a thing into account? I mean…. Whether you manage to kill us, you are oh so very screwed and I bet you lot never even had a bloody escape plan in case you did get found out, is that how stupid you are? did your mothers give birth to four defective loons? Because that's sure what it looks like” He wanted to rile them up, enrage them and distract them. Their rage would provide carelessness, their distracted minds would provide opportunity for Markus to make his move... to cripple, to make them bleed on this very ring with no opportunity to escape

x

[Markus Andres]

Almost. Just almost did Markus' mind snap and no word or soothing touch could have held him back. There was that brief moment where he saw red. But then a new voice, a voice that allowed no bullshit cut through the rage. Both green eyes staring straight at the brigand who had come to own a place in Syliras. Markus would have to talk to his superiors about a filthy civilian interfering in knight's business. Declaring his place free from Syliran law like that. That was when something clicked in his mind. At no point had he declared himself a knight. None of these petching bastards knew that he was above them. Gene could not know that. Still deserved a boot in the face for protecting rapists. The old scum before him called him boy again. It did annoy him that such scum was allowed to speak. The content of the talk did not matter much. The fact that he spoke. Still was capable of speaking did bother him. Bothered him greatly. He would just have to do something about that particular problem. He walked behind the punks. How had he been goaded into a fist fight. Give him a sword and he could take down these four with ease. But hand to hand? Could get difficult. Kreig however, seemed confident. More than confident. The constant spew of trash talk from his mouth was a pleasant break from whatever the scum said. It was good to have a brother like Kreig by his side on this night. Markus left his weapons and shirt by the entrance to the cage. Standing six feet and a pair of inches tall at over 225 pounds. Markus was huge. Even by Akalak standards. It was a body built for nights like this. Built for destroying worthless scum. But underneath all the muscles, or rather inside, a different power roared. When he was calm, he had trouble using this power. When he was angry? Probably not very useful. Still. Anything that could push the advantage to his side would be a tremendous help. They entered the cage. Markus looked to the four adversaries. Watching them stretch themselves. Markus could picture these men do that as their filthy disgusting eyes followed Fallon that night. Hands trembling with rage. He exhaled sharply. His focus went back on the djed control. A single powerful punch. Destroy one of them with a ridiculously powerful attack. Take any punishment in return for that strike. He remembered the words of Pain, all those years back. A different lifetime, it felt like. "they'll go for your head right? Most likely, I think... This is where your hands should be."His body and muscles could guard the organs from any vital damage. But his head. That was the weakness. That was the chink in the armour. Markus took a deep breath. Simple and easy. Defend the head. Crush their heads. Maintain the offensive. Destroy their defence. 'We will cripple you' The words brought a smirk to his lips and he would snort derisively at any response to it. It was a cool thing to say before attacking the opponents. But Kreig had in his eagerness left himself open to the others. Markus advanced beside the squire. His focus was still on the inner workings. Feeling the djed move to his will. To every whim of his mind. He let a silent prayer reach Wysar. Pleading for the discipline and control to maintain the current level of control. Kreig had found his target, Markus had found his targets. They were three on Markus' side. Markus' plan was rather simple. Distract the three the best he could while Kreig decimated their fourth friend. That was the only viable tactic he had at the moment. Markus had reduced himself to being a mere distraction. Pragmatism overruled his anger. Lately, it had been the other way around. Markus stepped quickly stepped forward to intercept the others from helping their friend. Into the fray. A scum rushed forward to strike the knight. The bald older man. Liver spots and everything. His movement calculated. This was no fool at fighting. Conscious of his movements and his left hand ready on the defence. Striking with a right straight to Markus' face. Markus' left shoulder and arm raised to protect the left side of his head. There was no fancy ideas or styles of fighting. Markus had none of that. Not now. He was perhaps but a primal beast. Unleashed from the cage. Ironic, considering the place. It felt liberating to finally get an outlet for the anger. The ball of Markus' right foot turned on the ground. Every single of those 230 pounds turning with that strike. He felt the djed follow his command in the heat of the moment. Fuel his right arm with extra strength and speed. The magical effect was not massive, but enough to throw the older man off guard. Not expecting a man Markus' size to throw such a quick punch. He aimed squarely for the older man's face. His right arm snapping out in a single massive punch. A textbook right hook. The old man was committed to his own attack. As was the knight. Neither backed down. Both felt the consequences of it. The old hand brushed past Markus' left hand and made contact just above Markus' left eye. Markus felt warm blood down the cheek. The old man had cut open the eyebrow. His left eye closed automatically to shield him from the blood. There had been a growl of pain from the young knight. But it had been worth the price. The old man lay there on the ground. He had tried to remain standing, but his old leg had just buckled under him and sent him down. His face a wreck. Nose broken asunder. His left eye closed. Tears forming in the right as the pain exploded into his mind. Markus' right hand had found a sweet spot between eye and nose. The old bastard was still awake. He did not lie still. Rolling on the ground. Clutching what had once, barely, passed for a face in his hands. Markus was about to pursue, finish the job. Ground and pound until he felt the ground scrape his knuckles. His vision clouded with too much anger and blood to care about his own injury. Something heavy connected with him. Coming from his, now, huge blind spot. A shoulder dug into his chest and pushed him back. Arms wrapped around him and Markus soon felt his back hit the cage wall. Against his naked back. He grunted with pain. He struck the man in the side of his head, but it was a weak strike. He could not put all his power into the strike. The little rat man was quick to see his chance. His fist flew at Markus' face when he was pinned against the cage wall. Markus lowered his head and the scum's fist grazed the top of his head before hitting the cage behind him. But he did not just punch once. He went berserk against Markus' failing defence. Markus' arms were there. Trying to stop his strikes from reaching. His head lowered down to let the tougher skull take the blows should they make it past the shielding arms. But with the heavy man's arms wrapped around him. Squeezing his chest. Markus had to hold his breath. Keep the muscles tightened as not get his ribs and organs crushed. Time was against him. He could not remain in this position. He would be destroyed. ”Kreig!” Markus growled, seeking his friend. His right leg flew up into the man's fat thigh. Doing little beyond annoying him. Markus' knew he was in trouble. The little petch going nuts with strikes at his face at the heavy bastard keeping him pinned. Defence had never been his style and being so throughoutly forced into it did not suit him well. His arms getting strike after strike upon them. Once in a while a strike made it past the defence and with that, air escaped his lips. Tightening the grip from the heavy scum. It was an excellent tactic from the two. One keeps him pinned and off balance, the other kept Markus' busy with strikes.

[Kreig Messer]

"Oh wonderful, I am being ignored" Kreig muttered as it seemed that all his well,okay not really, thought out words as he leaned against the cage. Ser Markus was handling the remainder of the quartet, taking on the oldest gent and Kreig had to admit, despite movement that a drunken monkey on drugs would say 'I could do better' Ser Markus was doing quite well against the old gent, even throwing a surprisingly powerful punch that caused the old bastard of a rotten turd and yes, Kreig is aware of the redundancy of those words, to lay on the floor practically incapacitated and grasping his face in pain.


Kreig was about to throw a few words of appluad, only for Ser Markus to be outnumbered by the rat looking bastard and hairy fat man, the remainder of the turd pile. Ser Markus put up quite the Valiant effort, unfortunately they heavy feces held Markus from behind while rat feces held used the poor gent as a punching bag. It was Kreig's fault really, thinking that after such a powerful punch and Ser Markus' own combat experiance would lead him to victory, unfortunately Ser Markus was a swords man and not an unarme fighter 'SImply put, a lucky is a lucky punch' He told himself.


There was no time for dilly dallying as Kreig made his way to aid the knight, stepping on Bald bastards stomach along the way, and tapped Rat man on the shoulder. Ratty stopped for a bit as he suddenly turned....and ducked as Kreig's fist flew and miss him, then ratty threw a punch into Kreig's stomach. Kreig's eyes widened in surprise and anger, cursing himself for allowing for this bastard to knock the wind out of him. Ratty looked at the brawler with a smug grin, practically taunting him as he revved up for another punch that was aimed for the face time. As he threw the punch, Kreig grabbed the fist and of course, it was rat face's turn to be shocked... then he yelled in pain as Kreig aimed a kick at the mans left knee and shattering itm but before the man would fall completely, Kreig grabbed him by the shoulders and struck him in the groin... then gave him permission to fall.

He looked at ser Markus with a lazy face that failed to hide the anger in his eyes "Sorry I took too long, do you need help with the literal turd thats holding you?" It was up to Ser Markus really, he was sure the last of them was stunned right now as what was a 4 to 2 in their favour was now a 2 to 1 in Kreig and Markus' favor. It would be the grand finale perhaps and hopefully bring a bit of closure to another dark chapter in this dreary life.
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