Flashback [Tall Johnny's] And the Fist's Fly Over the Bloody Morrow

[Kreig Messer]

Autumn 12th 510, 18th Bell 5th Chime.


Kreig had to admit, he liked the cheers of the people sitting about and watching from the stands, betting their hard earned cash either on him or the foe ' Though.... I do hope the odds between us or even, I'd hate to get all the bets. Or an easy fight' Kreig liked tall Johnny's, it was a spiffy place. A den of vice but one with a sort... moral to it. Oh sure if a customer doesn't have any money to pay their gambling debts they maayy get killed or get sold off to be slaves, but Tall Johnny himself was a charitive man... he might have charity in his soul to give the dead beats a chance 'Maybe...

He stood in the middle of the arena, shirtless, bootless and with the his pants sleeves rolled up to his knee. He cracked his knuckles and poped his neck... he felt all giddy inside. He felt his adrenaline pumping already... he loved that feeling, he really did. He wondered who his opponent was, he wondered if he had skill, he wondered if he would bring it all and he wondered if the sound of his fist crushing the foe's face would sound glorious.


He threw a couple of punches in the air, it being pushed away as fists flew through it. He was warming himself up, but also trying to calm himself down... just a bit, just a tad bit.. ' A muddy mind is a quick way to defeat, that it is' Kreig thought, no... he just had to calm just a bit, he needed to be able to focus on his opponent even through a blood rage, he needed to petching aim his blows else he'll just be fighting like a Neanderthal with no proper bloody skill, and Kreig was plenty skilled, that he was.

x

[Garret Sawyer]

"Come on you've had enough" The fight master moaned, much like his ring he was tall, bare and covered in blood spatters with a face that had could have won fights on its own.
"Just another one" Garret slurred as he downed the last of his current tankard, sending a torrent of ale spilling down his already stained shirt.
"No" The man barked, yanking the tankard of him "You've had enough, I don't want you collapsing in before you've had your face smashed in"
Garret didn't argue as he stepped into the ring, just remembering to take his top off as he exposed his muscular, if not hairy chest before his toes scraped against the blood stained ground beneath him, the crowd always liked their fighters topless; they liked to see the pain on their flesh manifest itself in front of their very eyes,

As he walked into full few of the stands the crowd roared in approval, not for Garret himself but rather the fact that he signalled the start of the bloodshed. Garret couldn't tell if it was the roar of the crowd or the sound of rushing blood that filled his ears but either way he way he could not hear a word that was being screamed from the spectators. The idea to fight had seemed like a good one to Garret but so did most idea when alcohol was involved, he had no skill in fist fighting and right now even a blind man could see him swaying slightly from side to side like a drunkard.

Perhaps it was Garret's poor sense of judgement, or his intoxicated mind thinking but his opponent didn't seem that opposing to him. Sure he was roughly the same height as Garret but he didn't have his bulk, nor his age, the latter of which in truth would be much more in his opponent's advantage but Garret, in his infinite wisdom, had always found those to be younger than him to be less daunting then him and therefore though of them as a lesser threat.

"Alright" The fight master said as he approached "No weapons, no armour and no aiming for the cock or the bollocks, this is a cage fight you are not drunks in a tavern brawl nor are you squabbling children, you fight fair and you fight well. Put on a good show for the crowd else they'll turn, now spill some blood for me men" He declared before withdrawing from the ring as the crowd screamed for the fight to begun. Garret spat at the ground, inches away from his opponents feet before he moved forwards, raising his forearms for protection but arms wavered making his guard weak. Suddenly movement erupted from Garret as he sprung, or more accurately stumbled forwards, his right fist soared through the stale air, arcing wide as he tried to aim for his opponent's face. The crowd simultaneously took in a sharp intake of breath as the first blow was swung.

The fight had begun.

[Kreig Messer]

'A drunk?! I want a good fight and what I get is a lousy drunk?!' Kreig didn't like that, obviously enough. His opponent was a shyke faced drunkard. The man looked bulky of course, no doubt about that but.... he could already see the endless oppenings on the man. He could see that he was bulky and damn overconfident. He should plan something special for him...but his rage was telling him to finish this quick. The man already annoyed the further shyke out of him by spitting near his feet.

Kreig cracked his knuckles as the drunkard appraoched, and when he threw the first punch Kreig found himself further annoyed as he could see it coming. He ducked away from the blow then launched forward, his fist charging toward the drunk petcher's stomach in a rough and mighty blow. He then proceed to lift the bastards head, looked him in the eyes and sneered at him in disappointment as he pushed the vagik away.

If this man didn't shape up, Kreig won't hesitate to just leave the damn place after shoving his fist down the bastards throat.

oocHope you don't mind the bit of god moddiness, if you'd like I can change it x

[Garret Sawyer]

Garret felt the fist ram itself into his vulnerable gut, causing the man to double over in pain as he felt hollow inside as the air was smashed out of his lungs. Forcibly his head was pushed upwards, his own sharp eyes meet a pair of warm, honey coloured eyes, soft eyes Garret thought as he spat once more at the man, leaving a trail of thick salvia running down his opponents cheek as he pulled away.

The crowd was cheering now, probably at the sight of a bloody fight rather than support of their fighters. A few disparaged punters were dotted around the stands, foolishly believing bulk to be more important then speed in a fist fight and would soon be paying the price for it.

Garret took long, deep breathes as he took a couple of steps back. His chest rose and sunk heavily as he struggled to regain his breath as the crowd cheered for more blood. Garret knew deep down that the fight was already lost, but he was a stubborn old bastard who was familiar with pain, and he would not flinch for the satisfaction of anyone. He wanted blood, and his blood was as good as any.

Come on then you little shit he thought as he raised his fists once more, ducking his head as he approached his opponent once more. "So how long was it that your mother squeezed you out? I've had a few whores in my time, wouldn't surprise me to hear your mother was one of the sluts" He taunted as he lunged forward quickly, ducking his head slightly in the hope to dodge any blows aimed for his face as he swung his left fist low and fast, hoping to strike hard and fast but his movement was destined to fail. His drunken mind was not up to the task of co-ordinating his limbs so quickly so he stumbled forward as his foot slipped on the sharp ground. His fist still hurtled towards him but his weight was no longer behind him, the crowd jeered and laugh as Garret clenched his jaw, anticipating his opens swift retribution

[Kreig Messer]

"Are... you Trying to anger me, you anal piece of shyke?" Kreig glared at the man, his brows furrowing in a mix of amusement " I'm not the drunken idiot who decided to fight while in such a sorry state, did the butthole you come out of at least had the decency to shit you in the sea?" No one insulted Kreig's mother, she was the jewel who gave birth to him and protected him. Kreig blocked the man's blow, grabbed him by the throat and looked deep into his eyes "Listen you damn bastard, when I was a kid I fought bastards bigger than you, at least they offered a challenge. And at least most of them were smart enough to get into a fight drunk, sadly, you seem to be too short on brain cells for me to say the same" Kreig then violenlty kneed him in the stomach and pulled his head back up.

"How about this bastard, apologize and I won't come after you after the fight is over.... you don't, well.... I could always leave a cripple, even other bastards would leave you alone " Kreig threatened as he moved his head closer, his eyes meeting the drunkards far too close for comfort, before pulling his head back and delivering another vicious head butt. Blood dripped from Kreig's own forehad, eyes looking into the drunkards, waiting for a damned apology.

x

[Garret Sawyer]

Garret stumbled pack, his head rushing with the combination of pain and alcohol as he was head butted viciously. The edges of his vision had begun to blacken to and blur as he struggled to maintain his footing with such an uncoordinated balance. More importantly though, his ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood and the screaming crowd so he could not hear a word this arsehole was rambling on about. "What the fuck are you on about?" Garret slurred as he stumbled around the ring, the crowd appeared to have little respect for either of them; while they enjoyed Garret's drunken antics they wanted to see more blood, and while Kreig gave them some of it they was nowhere near enough to satisfy them in between his endless bouts of talking about his past.

"Get on with the fight you wankers!" A voice called through from the crowd, sending a ripple of jeering throughout the crowd, causing tankard both empty and full to be chucked at the ring before clattering loudly against the steel cage that held them in. "Shut the Hai up..." Garret slurred to his opponent as he rubbed his bloody, aching head. He wasn't going to stay conscious for much longer, the black edges of his vision closing in quickly as he stumbled towards Kreig. What are brain cells anyway? He though hazily as he staggered towards him.

Garret spat out a clump of thick, bloody phlegm onto the sand pit before moving forward towards him "Unless you're gonna buy me a drink, do ya mind shutting up with ya life story?" He said, before taking a wide swing, his attempts to fight were no longer even coherent, just wild swings that had more chance of missing than coming even near his opponent's face.