PM to join [Tall Johnny's] Gettin' Poked with a Stick

[Kreig Messer]

40th of Spring, 514 AV, 18th Bell. Like any good employee, Kreig liked to do his job well. Of course, being a Prize Fighter meant that doing well in his job involved putting up a good fight for the audience’s benefit and often winning. While fighting in the caged pits was something Kreig enjoyed, that didn’t mean he wasn’t unaware that he wasn’t just fighting for his own pleasure. If the audience didn’t enjoy the fight it was simply bad business, and Tall Johnny was a businessman so that simply meant if they weren’t than Johnny would try to make it so before having to recompense the masses. Luckily for both Tall Johnny and Kreig, the opponent wasn’t going to be someone he had to fear making the fight boring. While Kreig lacked a shirt as usual in this fight, for once he did have his gauntlets and vambraces as well as his boots and grieves. Really the only pieces of armor of his he didn’t wore were his breast plate and skull-cap helmet and that was merely because he liked risks. As for the reason he wore them, well when you’re opponent is armed than you at least wanted the tools of his trade to be armored and to put him on equal footing. “Ladies and gents, we’ve got another fight for you to enjoy and it’s a good one. The Son of Sunberth is back again testing his wits in the arena, the bloodthirsty pugilist has defied the odds twice before but this time will defy it a third or find that this time the odds are simply not in his favor?” He really ought to learn whoever it was that announced these fights, he didn’t look that much like an underdog, did he? “ This time he’s up against a Nykan outsider who’s shown that just because he ain’t from Sunberth is as vicious as the rest. Especially with that quarter-staff of his that’s bashed enough skulls and bones to form new skeletons two dozen times over! Ladies and gents, I PRESENT TO YOU…. BALINT BENCE!” Balint wasn’t a tall man, at five-foot-five he was slightly below average. His robes were tattered, frayed and resembled the types worn by those with a religious inclination and apparently came with a hood as it was up and hiding the remainder of his head. His face was aging, probably putting him at twenty years above Kreig’s own age which made his apparent deadliness all the more impressive. The main concern was the quarter-staff he held which was a few inches taller than the man himself, its wooden construction a mask for its potential lethality. In comparison to Kreig he looked like the epitome of discipline, calm, controlled, and no doubt deadly. “ So, will the Son of Sunberth proves his chops once more and make his home proud, or will the outsider Balint shame and send him to the sick bed like so many others? There’s only way to find out …..” Kreig grinned, a blood thirsty smile on his face. He knew where this was going as he raised his fists and adjusted his footing in anticipation. Balint apparently knew as well as he spun his staffvery briefly and held the weapon out like a spear, an emotionless face contrasting the clear intent his staff presented. “FIGHT!!!” The magic words spoken, Kreig realized he was on thedefensive once again as Balint closed distance and thrusted the tip of his staff in motions that were very much reminiscent to jabbing in Kreig’s mind. The brawler blocked the first thrust with a block with his armored arm. Then directed the other with the back of his fist and again blocked the third. Each thrust forced the brawler to step back however, indicating that Balint was in full control of the facing. Kreig mentally tsked, this was going to be troublesome. .

[Berkley Whispers]

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as you’re an arse hat who loves to petch.”

“That’s not…” Berkley paused as he stared at Donovan. “Fine. I guess that’s...fair.” The middle-aged man smiled at his friend and boss. He didn’t care that there was likely less respect on the other end of the spectrum. The Busco family has strong roots in trade so Donovan grew up smart and knew how to keep a hold of his advantages. If less of a feeling of friendship from the owner of the Muted Maiden towards Berkley meant more of a sense of value then that was fine by the forty-two year old. Regardless of feelings and balances, the task had been issued.

A man who frequents the Maiden had come in some nights ago and taken his usual fetish; two girls, some tools and a room in the back. He came and went without incident but it was later discovered that he beat one of the slaves within an inch of her life. She would heal but it would be some time before she could work again as an earner.

“I still think I might kill her and be done with it. The only other person I can think of who’d want a beaten whore would be the doctor…” The patron scratched at his head as he stared at nothing in particular. “At that point, killing her would be mercy.”

Berkley scowled. He didn’t like that line of thinking at all and they’d already had this conversation so he stepped up to reassert the previously made points. “That’s a waste of money and you know it, D.” The taller, more handsome man circled the slave’s owner like a cat stalking a mouse unaware that it was being watched. “Make her clean up the rooms and shyke. That’ll give her time to heal until she’s ready to rut again.” As he passed behind Donovan, he dropped his voice making it huskier. “Besides- you know as well as I do that an arse like that’s hard to come by…” When he made the full circle, the middle-aged man saw the wicked smile on the proprietor's face.

“Ooohh, you got that right, ya old hound.” Donovan punched Berkley in the shoulder. It stung but he just laughed it off with a quick rub at the point of impact. "Now, fetch that worthless shyke." Berk was satisfied that Donovan wasn’t going to kill one of their employees so he headed out for the evening to retrieve their payment.

*******

Tall Johnny’s- what a place to see. The amount of traffic in and out plus the violence perpetuated inside made this one of those spots that Berkley didn’t frequent. He had to admit, however, that he could understand why so many did. On his way in, he walked past the statue of six fingers dedicate to Ovek. He stopped and stared at it for a while and contemplated why the god would have six fingers. An extra digit could come in handy for some things but the smirk on the man’s face indicated he could think of better ways to add things to one’s body.

Berk made his way around as he soaked in the atmosphere, the faces and the festivities. Not seeing the person that was described to him, he simply made his rounds. It wasn’t long before he found himself by the arena, his fit body looking a bit more for show than practical abuse like the two men inside. One was smaller but had the look of a warrior about him. The larger man was unarmed but armored and he gave Berk the impression of what it might be like to fight a small mountain. He wasn’t tall but he appeared to be almost square with all of his bulk.

The fight had just started so Berk decided to find a seat and scour the fanbase for any signs of his wayward John. His face was holding on to a slight smirk and a confident stare though his posture suggested the relaxed expression was more from being practiced than applicable. His shoulders were taught as they drew down from his neck and his hands were held flat across his thighs. The rigidity indicated that the middle-aged fellow was not so comfortable in such a dense population. There was a large crowd already enjoying the scene and more were filtering down...finding his man could take a while.

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[Kelski]

She didn’t want to be here. Tall Johnny’s didn’t hold good memories for Kelski. But Darvin was holding his usual court and had brought her along as eye-candy to settle some of his more nervous clients. Having found a seat on the area overlooking the arena, Darvin had Kelski sit down beside him. She did so quietly. Kelski had on a floor length worn skirt that had frayed hems and several patched holes in it. The thing looked big for her but was held up by a belt that encircled her thin waist. Her shirt looked like it was borrowed from the Sun Birth’s boys barracks. It was a button up thing that Darvin had unbuttoned quite a bit – enough to reveal the piercings deep in her chest pectorals – and had knotted below her breasts leaving her midriff bare so the gem hanging at her naval through a pierced bar there was clearly visible. Her feet had sturdy boots on them, good kidskin ones that looked like they could take the mud of some of Sunberth’s streets. The overall effect reminded the casual observer of someone taking a thin beautiful vase and wrapping it in a piece of sack cloth that didn’t quite conceal the beauty the sackcloth concealed.

People came and went. Some stopped to talk to Darvin, some handed him coins in exchange for barely concealed packets he passed to them as they wandered by. Several people stopped and sat down to chat. Darvin was a talker and often gossiped long into the day especially if he settled someplace to hold court like he was doing now.

Kelski ignored it all. It was part of her training, being repeatedly exposed to the bloodshed of humans so that she’d grow numb to it. The men in the arena held little interest to her. She was supposed to watch and learn, but she didn’t want to see anyone kill anyone. It wasn’t her passion. So instead her eyes roamed the crowd until she felt someone’s rough hand lift her skirt and slide a hand up her leg. The Kelvic froze, slowly tearing her eyes off the crowd and glancing beside her at the man who had taken a seat. He’d talked across her, chatting with Darvin like she wasn’t there. Kelski’s skin twitched between his touch and Darvin immediately noticed. Relief coursed through the Kelvic, as she expected him to tell the man ‘hands off’ any moment.

He didn’t though. Instead, he seemed conflicted. Kelski gave the man another look and noted the rich cut of his clothing and the casual but expensive way he carried himself. “She for sale?” The man asked, not even looking at Kelski as his hand crept higher. Darvin glanced down at the Kelvic then over at the man, seemingly weighing his options. “She’s Jaren’s new toy. I suspect he’ll have her on the block next month or so because he’s bribed just about everyone he can with her work. She’s a jeweler. I can’t sell her or even sell time with her like that. He’d not like it. She’s Kelvic and bites. But if you want to pay to play right here, I’m not opposed. Hands only, though. He doesn’t want her with a child but won’t pay to prevent it if you know what I mean.” Darvin said with a shrug. “A gold every bell. Twice that if you leave marks. He won’t see um so I don’t care. Doesn’t even rut her himself.” Darvin said with a grin then turned to the Kelvic.

“You make a move, a single noise, and I’ll pour some of this sweet bliss down your throat to keep you quiet. Let him have some fun. He’s going to pay well for it.” The big guard said as he accepted a double set of golds from the man. Kelski knew what that meant. And she let her eyes dull and drift away. So she was to be Darvin’s amusement, his entertainment, as he sold her pain to someone that wouldn’t even remember her tomorrow.

The man’s hand moved again, this time more confidently, and came straight up her thigh to its apex. The Kelvic flinched suddenly, without looking at either of the men beside her. One looked positively delighted, the other was already turning to someone else who had inquired when he heard the term sweet bliss. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she spotted Berkley. She put her eyes on him, counting the fasteners on his clothing, the number of curls on his head, even as she flinched again.

“Gods, I wish I could see this. She’s pierced.” The man said, moving his hand again. It was obvious he was doing something to her, with her skirt bunched up and his arm thrust up it. A sharp pain coursed through the Kelvic’s body as he tugged at the gem that hung in that place and then twisted it violently. She blinked, her eyes losing focus for a moment as she scanned the crowd again. The match below had started and that’s when Kreig turned towards her enough for Kelski to recognize him.

She kept her eyes on the fight then… knowing at least one of the contenders. She studied Kreigs form, escaping what was happening to her, watching his fists fly even as the older man shifted, pulling her onto his lap where he could move her skirts completely by lifting them and get better access. He shifted his cloak so it fell across Kelski’s lap and concealed what he was doing exactly. Darvin said nothing, just let the man play. He even said nothing as the Kelvic stiffened and let out a whimper as more of the man’s hand disappeared into her clothing and began to move rapidly in sharp brutal shoves.

His free hand not up Kelski’s skirt wrapped around her long hair and twisted her head back, exposing a sliver of her neck to his sight beneath the collar. He whispered in her ear, something furiously vicious, and then licked her bare shoulder where the boys shirt gaped. He bit her then, hard, sinking his teeth into her flesh as his hand stilled and then twisted roughly beneath the concealing clothing.

The Kelvic didn’t react. She couldn’t drop her eyes enough to put them back on the fight. So instead she found Berkley in the crowd once more and watched him instead. Kelski told herself she wasn’t there, with the man present in what he was doing to her, with Darvin, but was somewhere else, somewhere she could stretch her wings and fly… drifting on the wind. The place wasn’t well-lit, at least not in the stands, and even though it was the middle of the day, the Kelvic seemed to draw shadows too her, darkening visibly even though the people around her stayed virtually the same.

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig’s focus was fully on the fight as the staff wielder raised the tip of the staff in quick motion, his right arm lowering in the process. Kreig read it as it was, taking a quick step back only just barely having avoided his chin and nose getting struck by the rim of the of the staff. He soon discovered that didn’t matter as his gaze involuntary travelled with the tip, and noting how it stopped in the air for less than a tick as it swayed forward before it suddenly came crashing down upon Kreig’s face did center. The shaft had struck his forhead, to the bridge of his nose and his nose,ending at his lips as they were forcefully cut from inside as they met with his teeth. However that was not the end of it as the wood of the staff quickly slid down his face, Kreig too stunned to see what acme next as the tip of the staff was forcefully thrust into Kreig’s flexus like a spear. Except instead of piercing him like a spear would, the blunt, flat, end of the staff launched Kreig back and found him rolling back upon landing once before settling on his back. Kreig’s eyes were wide as he looked at the ceiling above. Blood had been travelling down his nose while the coppery taste made itself aware of his tongue. His body resisted the urge to vomit though, which was a blessing as Kreig already had an embarrassing bruise of a line running down his face. He would have been killed had that been truly a spear. No butts about it, Kreig would have died painfully. The fact he was coherent enough to think this meant he wasn’t out yet though, even though he wanted to curl up and hug his stomach. Besides, now he was thinking of his opponent and what there next step would be… Kreig rolled, and his suspicions were confirmed as the sound of something striking dirt made him acutely aware that he just avoided a finishing blow. Kreig panted, adrenaline riding through him as he let out a grin as he turned around, the Nykan’s eyes widened minutely as he was preparing his next attack, and would have unleashed it too had Kreig not been Kreig. He stepped in, hand reaching for the man’s hood as Kreig grabbed the rim above his head. Kreig pulled it down much like a delinquent as he obscured the man’s vision, then with his other hand he curled it up into a fist, the stud ready for striking and they did just that as Kreig’s fist slammed into the side of the Nykan’s head. The Nykan took the blow and his body seemed to tilt as if to fall over, Kreig thought that too but the Nykan was a crafty sort and so his body turned, the back end of his stiff meeting Kreig’s leg and sweeping him of it before completing the spin and raising the staff point upwards. Kreig rolled aside the moment his back met the dirt, expecting something like a stomp as a stomp only for the precise bottom tip of the staff stabbing into his previous spot. Kreig went to his knees, his fists raised into guard as the rear end of the staff then met and clanged against Kreig’s vambrace. Kreig smiled at the Nykan who looked back dispassionately, then he spun his arm as he launched it forward in a jab like motion with an open palm, grabbing onto the staff and pulling the Nykan close. But the Nykan was hardly behind on the times as he stepped back with one hand still gripping the staff, the long shaft being fought over by two firm yet opposing grips. Each side in a tug of war, one for ownership, the other for destroying. The crowd seemed to be enjoying, Kreig wouldn’t have been surprised if they were making their own little bets on who would win this tug of war. Kreig didn’t care, all Kreig wanted to do was whack that Nykan with the wood.

[Berkley Whispers]

Berkley was not having any luck finding the man that Donovan had described. Being seated in a dusky arena had advantages for some things but certainly bit a hard fat one for others. Excusing himself as he bumped his leg against a woman’s cheek as she leaned forward while he passed, the blue eyes iced down the shouting female for a brief second until the young and virile fighters could be seen again. For some strange reason, the middle-aged man felt like he was being watched so he turned and began to slowly scan the entire stands from left to write with a piercing gaze. There seemed to be noone of note until a cold set of grey eyes caught his attention. Darker than those around her, the young slave girl from the festival sat and bore her stare into the rogue. The way shadows played on her face- maybe it was the angle or the paleness of her skin- but it made her eyes almost glow. Stars are only visible in darkness.

Berkley was just about to wave but stopped when he started to pull back and take in her situation and surroundings. Her dog was there- dealing and ignoring the world aside from his wallet’s weight. Darvin would normally be the piece of the puzzle that made the man across the way’s ears burn but that was not the case tonight. The little grey-eyes mystery was sitting atop some old geezer with fancy clothes. He had her baggy clothes bunched up and wrapped around his lips and face as he had his way with her. Mr. Whispers felt his chest tighten as the breaths shortened while they grew more intense. Why? His mind reeled. Was she not in the same position as many of the girls that Berkley helped keep for Donovan? Was it a matter of principles? Or was it something different? Personal? The man’s motions shook the small, malnourished body. The iced over orbs pondered what the girl might look like if she was well-kept and not half starved but that didn’t seem to provide him with any clarity.

When Kelski looked away, Berkley moved instantly. He approached closer to the ring and continued to scour the crowd for his wayward John. The man Donovan wanted would be fairly well off and a bit to the seeker’s senior. The fight seemed to intensify and the action drew Berkley back into its violent predictability. It was the mystique of subterfuge that was difficult to gauge. Measuring strength to strength required tactics and endurance but it was a head to head fight. It was far safer to play that game than to have no idea who was trying to stab you as you turned in circles with a blindfold over one eye and held a candle in front of the other.

The rogue pushed further around the ring, his gaze checking the faces of those who held an entourage and having no luck so he began to look over the men who held the keys for the rich and powerful. Much like his relationship to Donovan, many of the influential people in Sunberth had others do their bidding- their dirty work. It’s the difference between a man with gold rings and brass ones. Berkley suspected the brightest rings never got bloody but the dingier metals would make for quite a calling card when torn through the flesh of a offender’s face. Still, the blue eyes found nothing and the weathered face continued to look about as his boots made their way along the path towards the other side of the arena.

Berkley paused. He found the grey lights focused upon him again. The girl was simply being abused by an appetite of dark desires and putrid needs. Such a man would make for a potent enemy- but he would also make for one brilliant example. The fire had been lit and the mad with salt showing in his sandy hair needed to figure out how to get from Tall Johnny’s to the Muted Maiden with a horny, well-off pervert who was gods knew how deep in a piece of tail. Berkley’s face flushed red at his last train of thought. Maybe he was jealous of the rich bastard though the somewhat handsome man had never had to force himself upon a woman. He was generally invited and had paid on several occasions. He felt no shame about it but he felt shame for the shadow girl with the silver stare. She had seemed far away before and once again, it was as if she used his familiarity to tune out of her own body.

Action was demanded. Berkley moved laterally so that the girl could follow his form. He would be a position down the row and at the bottom of the stands where she sat. Her ‘client’ and her handler would have a hard time seeing him without turning their bodies but the man had a clear line of sight to the young woman. He made a few subtle hand gestures towards the dark corner behind the stands. The rogue knew she couldn’t just up and leave but he had other plans. He motioned towards the dagger in his waist with its heavy hilt and wide flange. Berkley’s hands worked quickly as his eyes scanned for those watching and every seemed intent on the fight- a fact that the middle-aged man was very grateful to see. He wrote his plan in very crude signs and tried to communicate that he wanted her to lead the John into the shadows so Berkley could hit him in the head. He flashed a few coins then made a wave motion before he pointed at Darvin. Hopefully, that would be enough for her to see that he would be giving Darvin more money.

Berkley sat down in a very uneasy posture and jumped up when the crowd reacted to a blow delivered in the ring. He was right on the edge of the stands near the small alley that he had previously indicated. He stopped looking at Kelski and watched the fight though he made sure that he looked side to side every few ticks in case she interpreted his plan properly and began to execute. Bastard that he was, Berkley wasn’t going to send her into a horrible situation on her own- well, a situation more horrendous than the one where she was already caught.

Word Count728 + 1077 = 1805

Mr. Whispers