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[Kreig Messer]

29th of Summer, 518 A.V. 5th Bell, 9th Chime.

Kreig….was drunk.

There really was no way of putting it. Too many little things had accumulated for the brawler, so many that it felt like that the big things that bothered him seemed insignificant. Truly, it was all so troublesome he was wishing he’d stayed in Syliras or Zeltiva.

His body tilted lightly back and forth as he looked into his mug of ale, half full as it was. In it he saw his frustrations… all of it. Particularly his height issues. How, how was it that almost every male near his age our outside of Sunberth seemed taller than him!

He wasn’t sure, he placed his hand on the counter and squeezed at the edge. He’d seen guys shorter him, but he’d yet to MEET those shorter than him. His employer was taller than him, but then his name was Tall Johnny and Kreig knew that beforehand. Olave was taller than him though, Kynier too. And there Markus too back in Syliras! Ximal who was a tall freak of nature and… and… too many to recall!

“Kreig….if ya doin’t stop threatening to sqeeze the counter off. I’ll toss your sorry ass out, years of patronage be damned” Kreig subsided at that, letting go of the counter as he looked at Old Merv.

He wouldn’t call Merv a father figure, but the old man was around since Kreig was a tiny rat. The man commanded respect in his bar, so much so it was rare that a brawl in his tavern accumulated much property damage if any.

“Sorry Merv…” Kreig mumbled like a chastised child, grabbing his ale and sipping the ale lightly “ Iz jus’…Why are there so many tall folk?!” Kreig asked.

Merv paused as he, slowly setting aside a tankard meant for a table as he watched Kreig with a careful and confused eye.

“I must’ve misheard that….Did you just complain about. People being tall?”

Kreig nodded, wondering why Merv was confused by such a thing. Kreig waved his arm to the sea of patrons behind him, it currently being the bars busy hour at the end of day “Is jus’, there’s so many people taller ‘an me. S’not fair!” He exclaimed, his hand slamming onto the counter again, causing the gent a stool away from to jump and stare at Kreig.
“I drank my milk” Well, when he had milk to be drunk “An’ I ate my food” Same as most in Sunbirth really, in fact Kreig was sure Merv would vouch for that “ An’ I grew big an’ strong…but a lot of folk are bigger than me” He waved his arms wide and broughtthem together on the table and bury his arms in them “ I ain’t met one person shorter ‘an me since ah came back” His voice came muffled as he voiced his complaint.

Merv, for his part seemed to be thinking of something, before shrugging and taking the tankard to the customers who ordered. Years of being a tavern owner he’d actually heard worst.

“An’ its not jus’ height, ‘s…” When Kreig raised his head he saw no sight of Merv ‘ Tha’s weird, ‘e was ‘ere jus’ a tick ago’ He turned his head left to right, wondering where the man wandered off too. Standing up from his seat, Kreig scanned the sea of faces, but he couldn’t quite notice Merv. He thought he saw someone who looked liked him though!

Good, he can continue complaining there then!

So Kreig waded through the sea the hustle and bustle, bumping into the back of people just trying to enjoy their drink and meal. His foot catching on a table leg however, caused him to lose all reason of balance as he crashed into the back of another patron who’d been sitting down. Kreig stepped back, his body shaking like a slow falling leaf as he as he scratched the back of his head.

Silence seemed to reign inside the Pig’s Foot as all eyes darted to the table. Including Merv who had returned to the back of the bar, palming his face and seemed to mumble something under his breat.

“Ah, sorry there pal…ain’t exactly got me a clear ‘nuff head” He said, when the figure stood up it was revealed to be a tall fellow…a tall, nasty looking HUMAN fellow who looked the time any other gang would use for intimidation. Kreig frowned at that, all he saw was some tall guy. “Petchin’ shyke…another tall freak”

And that’s when all shyke broke loose.

x

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

It seemed that trouble followed Vel no matter how much he tried to keep his head down. It wasn't easy being blue in a city of pale skinned shikesters. It was a tight line, he walked. One step out and even his blade wouldn't be able to protect him.

To say that Vel had a thing for alcohol was an understatement. The city depressed him, frustrated him. Beer seemed to not only be the best but also the only antidote for the aura of fear and the stench of sewers. A man drunk enough cannot feel a thing. Then again it took a lot to get a man his size drunk.

The Akalak sat at the table alone, sipping silently on his mug of ale, people watching and twiddling his thumbs. There wasn't really much else for him to do. He listened in on two, equally as boozed up, patrons to the of him discuss something of little significance. Sometimes they spliced that conversation with hushed comments. Nothing he hadn't heard before however. As Vel's eyes drifted across the room they landed on another fellow. Impressively lanky was he, and in quite the state. A tinge of jealousy sparked though Vel's veins as he truly envied that state of blissful drunken waste.

As Merv delivered another mug of alcohol to his table, the Akalak nodded graciously and placed mizas in his palm. Watching the back of the old man's head he threw his feet up on the table and leaned back. Leather covered his body from head to toe, peaking from beneath a black cape that shrouded one of his arms in mystery - or at least what was left of it. By his side a massive bastard blade rested in it's scabbard.

An offended yell broke though the relatively peaceful atmosphere in the bar, followed quickly by another. It seemed this was about it for his quiet contemplation as his eyes darted back to the man he was previously just very briefly glancing at, now meandering drunkenly past the patrons and knocking them out of their chairs and spilling their beer.

"Unlucky sod." Vel thought to himself, doing his best to keep a low profile for a guy who was 7ft tall. But once the first punch was thrown that wasn't really an option anymore. He rose to his feet and strapped the sword behind his back once more where it belonged. It would be a shame to loose it having to physically move petching drunkards out of his way.

[Kreig Messer]

It was a fist that met Kreig’s face, ultimately the Brawler’s dulled reflexes and sense of vision had not allowed him to see, by what was all rights, an easily blocked first. It connected with the side of his jaw with a force that fit the insulted man’s size, causing Kreig to stagger back and look down with a bent back.

Even drunk he could tell the taste of blood in his mouth and the beginnings of a bruise. Kreig’s head slowly rised up in a glare as he stared at the tall. When the tall man was about to throw another punch, Kreig’s fist latched onto his wrist and squeezed. The man paused at this before doubling over as Kreig took a step forward and launched his fist into his abdomen. Twisting his fist lightly before pulling back and allowing his opponent to fall.

“If ya wanted a fight, ya coulda jus’ said so” Kreig replied, stumbling back unevenly as he looked at the layed out fellow. A noise drew his attention to the rest of the bar, folks were starting to go wild at each other, though none seemed to approach the furniture… yet.

“Huh…a party started while wus fightin’” Kreig stated, not realizing just who began it. He also didn’t realize he had further crowd of angry people who didn’t mind getting a bloody piece of a drunk Kreig. They were circling him with violent intent.

Kreig smiled cheerfully, oblivious or aware was anyone’s intent “Hey there fellas, what’re we celebratin’ about?” He asked, genuinely curious it seemed.

“Oh, nothin’ much. Jus’ the fact yer arse is about to get shyked” Kreig frowned at that, now why would his ass be shyked? He wasn’t aware he did anything wrong after all. Of course, these fellows would vehemently disagreed, particularly the one who held a hard bottle like a makeshift club. And apparently the two who made the jump to grab Kreig by both arms to keep him in place.

“Hey, hey…ain’t no need ta get handsy ‘ere! I ain’t that kinda guy” Kreig said as he struggled against their grips upon his arms.

“Oh shut yer trap ya loudmouth” Announced one of them as the Bottle fellow approached and raised the bottle for a strike then swung it down.

“No, You!” Kreig let out as he pulled, pulling one of the thugs in the way where the top of his skull met the side of the bottle and fell unconscious onto the ground. The one holding Kreig’s other arm went wide eyed, only to go wider as Kreig’s knuckled came into views and knocked the thug back, causing him to stumble onto a chair in a daze.

Kreig straightened then tilted his neck left and right sharply, letting out audible cracks as he galred at the guy with the bottle. Examining the man closer, Kreig glared harsher and let out a growl. The man with the bottle stiffened, he was about to strike again but Kreig’s…feral attitude caused him pause.

“Why the petch are ya taller t’an me too?!”

That caused him no small amount of confusion however and it showed on his face as the man’s brow raised and his mouth as if to retort only for his expression to contort. His jaw dropping further, his eyes about to bug out as his brows attempted to shoot pass his forhead. A smile, low, whine came from his mouth.

Kreig’s foot moved away from the man’s groin as the man stumbled. The fellow’s form turning fetal as Kreig looked down with a stupidly pleased look as he looked around the beginning chaos. He then spotted an Akalak… he looked tall, but he was an Akalak.

“Heeeey, I wunder if tah Aka-…Aka-..whatever he is, is short fer his spe-spe-…speople!” Kreig let out, and with a look of determination tried to cross over to the Akalak with the big weapon. He paused all of a sudden though as looked infront of him…

‘huh, ‘s gunna be hard ta get ta ‘em… so many people fightin’ “He scratched the back of his head.

Maybe he could take the long way around?

x

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

As men and women alike stood up from their chairs around him, Vel felt a flurry of exhilaration surge though his veins. Adrenaline - the feeling which he was almost addicted to. He wasn't one to throw the first punch but he was sure as hell one to retaliate even if such action wasn't exactly warranted. Letting off steam in a city such as this could not be held against oneself.

A young small guy came at him almost naively, clearly wanting to prove his boyish might against a bigger opponent. Clearly too drunk to know his own strength or be able to estimate that of his opponent. As he swayed towards Vel, the Akalak swung once. And once was all that needed. His big, blue fist made impact against the kid's face and sent teeth flying into the air as the guy was knocked out cold. An unworthy opponent, but then again, he shouldn't have started on an Akalak.

It was a distraction. In that split second Vel did not pay attention to his surroundings and did not notice the two, insignificant looking men who had previously sad at the table next to him. They weren't there to brawl. From beneath their capes small assassins daggers gleamed, thirsty for Akalak flesh. Whatever he or Aer had done to anger these men was about to bit him in the ass.

"Hey there you petch. Not so big now are you." one of the men jeered quietly enough for Vel not to hear every word in the sentence but not quietly enough for him not to hear it at all. Startled the Akalak spun on his heal only to almost instantly have to dodge an oncoming attack. Grasping a chair, he hoisted it up and brought it down on the man with full fury, breaking the wood on his back. The attacker fell to the ground. One down, one more to go.

Vel freed the little dagger from the shikester's greasy fingers as he walked to meet the other guy head on. Instead of facing him with the blade however, he pocketed it. After all this was a 'fine' Sunberth establishment. The added damage of getting stabbed was worth being allowed back in though the door on another occasion as Vel was fully intending on drinking here again. Then again he did often overestimate his own strength.

And perhaps this overestimation was to his undoing for the other guy was a little better than his unconscious counterpart, a little quicker and more devious. He waited for Vel to throw the first punch and once it missed, he swung his leg under the Akalak, knocking him off his feet. From his advantage point he delivered two punched to the head, one with the pommel of the dagger. Blood from his temple seeped down Vel's neck.

"Get up, asshole." the goon said, twirling the tiny dagger in his hand until the tip pointed towards Vel. Using the Akalak's size against him was a smart move.

With the taste of his own blood at the tip of his tongue, Vel did just that. He regained balance on his feet and flicked his gaze from the enemy, to the left, to the right and back to his enemy. Vel could be accused of many thing, but being a slow learner was not one of them. Suddenly spring into action he grabbed the closest beer bottle to him and hurled it in the man's direction with full force. He got lucky, this time for his aim was neither good nor did he take a second to really aim it. For that split second he didn't think he just acted. And he made the right decision for the bottle hit the man square in the face, and shattered, leaving shards in his skin. He too fell to the floor. The hit was likely to leave a concussion in the best of circumstances.

Of course Vel didn't really pay much attention to the drunken Kreig who managed to come within earshot. Soon enough his eyes landed on the man. The words he slurred reached his ears. Staring him down the Akalak tilted his head questioningly but assumed a battle stance either way, though this time with the sword still safely sheathed on his back. Was the drunkard going to turn out a friend or a foe? Perhaps more than just two shikesters were out for his blood that evening?

[Kreig Messer]

It seemed Kreig didn’t need to bother with the long way around in approaching the akalak. While Kreig couldn’t say he was impressed by the Akalak’s skills, he could indeed say he was impressed by the fellow’s guts. Shame about one of Merv’s chairs though, but hey… if Merv decided to take issue with that it wasn’t Kreig’s fault an outsider didn’t know not to damage the shop.

Of course the brawl was another matter.

Kreig swayed lightly, looking up the fella up and down. In a way the guy was pretty, not to Kreig’s tastes mind but he’d imagined the man would be attractive with the opposite sex in his own way. Kreig sighed however as he got a good look at his height, letting it with a hint of depression. Now that he got a good look up close, Kreig wasn’t sure he would be considered short by his own species standards.

The drunken brawler turned his gaze, looking around for something and then his eyes fell upon a mug upon a table. He slowly approached and looked at it from above, he frowned as to his misfortune it was empty. He let out another sigh, he felt his question would be pointless, and with no drink to drown his sorrows in.

“Gods take you, you bastard” Came the shout of one of the fellows Kreig had thought he’d taken care of already. Kreig side glanced as the fellow charged him with a readied fist. Kreig extended his fist in a quick low jab, catching the man in the stomach. The blow itself was light by Kreig’s standards, but the fellow’s own momentum made the blow quite heavy indeed as the man paused and heaved forward. Kreig then shot his foot forward as he kicked the man’s foot from under him, forcing him to his knees.

Finally, Kreig grabbed the side of the man’s head and shove it against the edge of the table letting out a large thud before letting the man go and watching him unconscious on the ground. It felt nice knocking a petcher out, but the swiftness of it bored Kreig to tears and so he let out another sigh.

Kreig grabbed a chair, his eyes glancing to the Akalak who was in a fighting stance, he sat on it and leaned back. His head tilted lightly left and right as he looked him over again “Ya know, If ya were in Tall Johnny’s I betcha yer arse woulda been kicked season ta season, seen beeter from my grandma” Kreig remarked, but then again the Akalaks were warriors, even the young would be reasonably skilled fighters. In addition, Kreig never in fact met his Grandmother… on both sides, in fact he never even met his father. Of course there was his sister but Yahal and other Gods only knew where she was and what she was up to.

Kreig’s head turned around and he chuckled as five more thugs approached there positions, unlike the fellows who picked the fight with the Akalak and the ones who Kreig angered however these gents didn’t seems discriminatory, they were just looking for a fight.

Kreig turned his head to the Akalak and smiled like it was birthday “Hey look, ya think can take on more fellas” Three had made their way for Kreig, and two for the Akalak. Great! He had a bigger share to kick.

He should thank whoever started this party.
x

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

The man's retort angered Vel. His eyes narrowed and a mocking smirk curled his lip. "Come a little closer. Say that to my fist again. I don't think it heard you." he spat, readying himself to pick a fight with this shikester just for being arrogant. But the two men's manhood competition had to wait as more goons came to join the party. And each of them looked as if they wanted a peace of the brawler and the pretty blue Akalak.

Seeing this Kreig seemed to change his tone a little. Instead of insulting Vel suddenly he wanted to join in kicking some righteous ass. Funny how the tables have turned.

"Do I think? Hey, bravado, if you're planning to chicken out let me know." he chuckled.

The first thug approached Vel with the other one pretty much using his friend as a bit of a human shield. Vel was first to throw a punch. Tightening his fist he breathed across the knuckles until the first thug came in range. Then he swung and aimed right between the bastard's eyes. In the very last second he managed to duck out ot he way but that was alright for the punch hit his friend instead. Slightly left of centre. The splintering of collarbone echoed though the bar as Vel recoiled his fist, flexing bruised knuckles and wincing in pain.

How not to throw punches, lesson one: bone against bone hurts. Go for soft fleshy bits., Vel thought to himself, flexing his fingers ensuring that he still had full function in every single one of them.

As he stood there, licking his wounds metaphorically speaking, Vel lost track of the other thug who was out for his blood and bruises. The thug who had snook up behind him, climbed one of the tables and then flung himself onto the Akalak's back attempting to choke him and bring him to the ground. He had another thing coming however, as Vel's hand grasped his, tightly locked, not allowing them to obstruct his wind pipe. Thrashing angrily the Akalak spun around, sending the man's legs flying and likely knocking out one or two guys who had found themselves too close. It was really quite the comedic scene.

Vel had his hand full. he didn't really quite have time to worry about Kreig, whose name he didn't yet even know never mind care about enough to check up on the brawler. His hid head though he did ponder how the drunkard was doing.

[Kreig Messer]

For Kreig who’d received the majority of the thugs coming after him, he was about to unleash some stress relief. Sometimes one simply needed to beat up a bunch of thugs who tried to take too big a bite. That was something which one thug realized as he pulled out a club and swung for Kreig’s head, only for Kreig’s hand to suddenly latch onto the fellow’s wrist stopping it cold.


With a yoink Kreig pulled the fellow over his lap and with a raised knee hit his abdomen hard, before unceremoniously shoving the fellow off. The thug landing on his back, let out a groan befor letting out another gasp as Kreig stepped on the fellow’s stomach in his effort to stand up then walked over to the other two who stopped cold.


The other two who were about to rush Kreig paused, seeing how quickly the drunken Kreig dispatched their fellow. Kreig grinned at them widely and raised the back of his fist then followed with raising a middle finger “Oy, ya ssstupid bastar’s wan’ a piece o’ this? come ‘an get et ye arse smellin’ dogs” Kreig taunted.

For a moment the thugs considered backing away, but stupidity mixed with rage at Kreig’s taunting had them forgo their fear. Still it seemed they did not let their fear rule them, opting to rush Kreig on opposing sides. The first opted to strike at Kreig from above with a wide swing of his arm, the other opted to strike at Kreig from below with a broken bottle neck.

Kreig ducked the first, then his right hand lashed out at the second’s wrist as he stepped back, tightening his grip on the fellow hard enough that he yelped and dropped the makeshift weapon of death.

The first tried to swing again but Kreig dragged the second in his path, interrupting him and causing him to bump into the other. In their surprise Kreig grabbed both by the collar of their shirts and dragged them around, his eyes falling upon the spinning Akalak who was giving a thug a ride, grinning widely he he let go of the second the grab the first with both hands and shoved him forward to the Akalak, then punched the second in the gut and grabbed him again to push him into following his friend.


The result were two thugs knocked out by their fellow’s legs as he was swung about by a big ol’ Akalak and Kreig couldn’t have been any happier as he let out a guffaw of triumph, stepping back to accidentally step again on the stomach of thug he downed before collapsing onto the chair.
This was indeed too much fun
x

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

It indeed was very good timing. The thug who had clung for dear life to the spinning Vel ended up accidentally knocking his friends out and eventually let go whether out of drunkenness of exhaustion. With one fell swoop the Akalak dragged him off his back like a cat, smacking the guy’s head against the corner of the nearest table for good measure and toking the drunkard’s limp body onto the pile of his friends.

It seemed between them they had made a pretty good team. Vel and the drunk brawler who had now collapsed on the nearest chair. Albeit the Akalak had wished he had been the drunk one. Feeling the tipsy haze of beer wash off of him like rain was far from a pleasant experience, only to forsake the rose tinted view of Sunberth.

Around them, inside the bar, hell was in full swing. Men fell over each other left and right. Some, like them, exploited the situation to let off some steam on unlucky shikesters who just happened to wind up in the way of their fists. Others scrambled for the door and though the windows just to get out of the establishment. Thankfully very few chairs and tables got destroyed, though some did bear the damage and indents caused by heads, shoulders and teeth. White, and coloured otherwise, teeth littered the floor like popcorn.

It was then that Vel felt the pull on his soul. A spinning in his head. Somebody was finally beginning to wake up and it seemed they wanted back in the driving seat. Vel wasn’t going to give up control that easily. He shook his head and breathed in, gritting his teeth. A focus the kind of which he didn’t summon often. A determination to clear his mind.

He wasn’t about to let Aer take over. Not just yet.

“So. All done here, are we?” he tossed a half handed comment to Kreig whom he saw slump in the chair with an expression of glee on his face. The man seemed to enjoy beating thugs bloody a little too much. Without meaning to, the Akalak’s voice shook a little. Certainly he may have looked like the fight was a little much for him to any onlooker. But The physical exertion was far from the reason for that crack in his voice. The truth of it was that Vel felt he was slowly loosing his grip on his own body.

[Kreig Messer]

Normally, Kreig had a good pair of eyes and while he was currently drunk and riding on an adrenaline high he still had a good eye for details for most things. At the moment he didn’t quite notice the Akalak having a literal battle of wills as his face contorted and there was a daze in his form and a hitch in his voice. Kreig was admiring their handy work really like a proud craftsman… if a craftsman was into the art of beating thugs and drunkards.

“Ah’ma thinkin’ so, ya ain’t half bad” He responded to the feloow. “I reckon ya coulda done better though” Kreig remarked, replaying everything that was experienced in his head. His head turning to face the Akalak finally “I mean a big feller out you oughta be good at this whole fightin’ an’ what not, them fellers shoulda been chumps to you”


He then paused a bit, rethinking his own battles “Course ain’t like ah was doin’ better, then again I’m thinkin’ ah drank enough ta get a fire going” He let out a chuckled, then really got a good look at the Akalak’ struggle “From the looks of it, ye are too”


Kreig chuckled again, leaning back on the chair “Ah, an’ them bastards ain’t looking tall now in spite of us bein’ drunk” He guffawed louder, adding in a remark that may have been a boast to the Akalak’s ears but the reason for it being different than what he might imagine. Running a hand through his hair, and wincing at a bruise there, he looked again to the Akalak “Name’s Kreig Messer, reckon’ ya might do me the decency of tellin’ me yers?”
x

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

Alcohol. Yes! As good an excuse as any to blame on one's own shortcomings. Vel breathed for a moment, flexing the fingers of his hand just to double check that he was in control of his body before alas calming down a little. Then his huge eyes turned to Kreig. They looked so very out of place, large and glossy like a child rather than a man, on the face contorted with harshness.

"Tell you what. If you think I did that badly, why don't you take some time to show me some of those moves of your eh, fella?" he joked, ridding the last of the haze from his mind. He didn't for a moment think Kreig would ever take him up on the offer. No, he hoped Kreig wouldn't take him up on it. "I'd much rather use a sword than my fists in battle. Its far more exciting."

He was a little confused by the comment about tall guys. Then again to the 7ft Akalak everyone was a little short. And so he paid it no attention, figuring that perhaps it was some local turn of phrase, perhaps a boast of one's own might. Surely a few years were hardly enough to come to know all the little intricacies of local slang.

"Ain't half bad to meet you, Kreig. The name is Vel, although judging by your state I hardly doubt you'll remember it in the morning. Geez what I wouldn't do to be quite as plastered as you right now."