The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Alric Lysane on January 2nd, 2022, 8:42 am



30th Winter 521 AV – Brega's House of Happy Endings

Ruby had been making everyone’s lives miserable for the past few days, ever since there had been a number of items taken from the Scarlet Sanctum. Usually quite ingratiating and enticing her usually charm had been replaced with a suspicious aura and dark eyes where once they had been sparkling for whomever she set them upon. Alric had to admire her ability to switch from one to the other based upon circumstance, not to mention her artistry in seduction in general. The admiration for her flesh went without saying, otherwise you were quite quickly removed from her employment. He didn’t pretend when he eyed up her…assets…but he wisely kept the fact he preferred other figures more to himself.

She does like to have the appearance of owning your very gaze, though I wish she’d stop being such a spiteful shyke for a bit he thought to himself as he went about related business.

He had heard rumours of other businesses having had thefts, many of them and not always the usual fare for thieves. It hadn’t been at the Scarlet Sanctum, that was for sure. Gold going missing was one thing, you could always earn it back he had been told. Flesh sold almost as much as pleasure from it, that much was true. No, Ruby wouldn’t have been so venomous had the thing stolen not been her personal property – a hand mirror and some sort of long coat she favoured for her arts apparently. He shook his head as he made his way to the last place he thought he’d find himself given his employer – Brega’s.

He had taken to wearing a lot of the magical items he had found so far that season, no one would admit to knowing what they were given they’d have to expose themselves as magic conversant at least, and he knew they had properties that were beneficial – though what all of them were he couldn’t quite define. He knew some of them, though, and he felt sure he’d discover the rest soon enough. He absently rubbed his head where the damned minty stick had hit him. There was no bruise now, but the memory of embarrassment was fresh all the same. Black boots, red gloves and belt were worn over his Isuas trousers and shirt – green this time – and the red velvet jacket atop all of that. Underneath it all was the ever present bodysuit that had already saved his life and as such was never taken off except for washing. He had brought his broadsword, though he hoped he wouldn’t need it.

“Time to see what was taken from Brega’s” he muttered to himself as he approached the front door. If there was something stolen then he’d have another clue, if not then he’d assume the thievery was somehow at Brega’s behest – though what he’s do about it he hadn’t really thought upon.

Largely he was just curious about the events and wanted to know what it was all about. Revealing the gathered knowledge hadn’t yet registered upon his list for consideration. There was already a large and rowdy crowd outside the door, not surprising given that Brega’s was open pretty much every bell of the day and there were always lusty folk in need of some release. The crowd seemed more agitated than usual, though, the whole city did. Times had grown difficult and people were getting fractious. His eyes already noted several thuggish types glaring at each other, others and then Alric and the woman on the door.

“Don’t you dare” he breathed to himself and the world in general, he was hoping for a quiet day though those had been in short supply this season, so far.


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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Bronwen on January 22nd, 2022, 10:58 pm

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"Go home, Jace, and take your.." Bronwen gave the two men behind Jace a scathing look, jaw ticking, "..men with you. You're all drunk, and there's no way you're going to start something under this roof."

Jace, a self-proclaimed leader of a Sun's Birth cell, was a tall man, taller than Bronwen's six foot two inches, but what advantage the man might have gained from his height was negated by his inability to remain sober. The man's long, greasy dark hair swung into his face, hiding the scowl he attempted to give Bron as he turned to the men at his back.

One of the men, Bron thought his name was Luke, was known at Brega's for his rough treatment and rather odd requests. He was shorter than Jace by a good several inches, but what Luke had that his leader didn't was muscle. Thankfully, though, he was just as drunk.

The second man, however, Bron had never seen before, and the calculating look in the man's brown eyes made her nervous. He was slightly shorter than Bron, lean but firm, with dark brown skin and a hairless head, save for a thick black goatee that nearly reached the man's chest. The man had yet to say a word, but he looked to be getting angrier by the chime.

The three men had charged Brega's entrance, demanding that a group of men currently occupying several of the brothel's rooms were responsible for stealing a weapons stash from the Sun's Birth. The men in question, five of them, happen to be known members of the Daggerhand, and Bronwen was not about to let a gang war begin under her watch. Not when she knew that Jace and his men would be killed if Jace got his wish and stormed the rooms.

That would undoubtedly set off something between the two gangs that Bron wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

The clipping sound of footsteps behind her drew Bron's gaze, and she turned just as Brega swept down the stairs and closed the distance to her guard's side, going to her tiptoes to whisper in the taller woman's ear.

"I just saw Asa and Ferrin goin' from room to room agatherin' the rest of tha boys." Brega drawled, and Bron could hear the trepidation in the whore's voice. "Somehow they know they are here for um. Get these drunks gone afore there's enough trouble for the lot of us."

With a nod, Bron straightened as Brega swept back up the stairs, no doubt to do her part at keeping Asa and the rest of the Dadderhands upstairs and march the worker to safety behind closed doors. Pulling the quarterstaff from her back, Bronwen turned back to Jace, holding her staff across the front of her body as if she were about to corral spooked horses back into their stalls, not usher drunk men out the door.

Bron was the lone guard on duty at Brega's for the next two bells, and she wished for once, someone would show up for work early.

"Alright, Jace, I'm going to need you-"

Brega's loud squawk cut off Bron's words, followed quickly by the sound of several slamming doors and heavy footsteps stomping across the ceiling, heading directly for the stairs.

They were out of time. "Shyke!!" Bron cursed, not knowing which way to turn.

Did she continue to try and get the Sun's Birth out the door or forestall the rath of the Daggerhands?

The decision was made for her when the dark-skinned stranger's hands clamped around Bron's staff, yanking her forward, then yanked her around, and began shoving her out the door backside first. The man's speed caught Bron so off guard that she never saw him position himself for a hard kick to her middle. She was propelled out of Brega's entrance and sent tumbling down the rotten stairs, right into an immovable wall that, judging by the big hands that had wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling, turned out to be a man's chest.

Chest heaving, Bron had just enough time to right herself and duck as the dark man swung...

...and landed a solid punch to whoever was at her back.

Bronwen heard, more than saw, the blow land behind her as she managed to bring her staff around and sweep the black man's legs out from under him, grunting in satisfaction as the big man seemed to have momentarily lost the ability to breathe.

Turning, Bron caught sight of the man who had saved her from tumbling to her backside, her storm blue eyes flaring wide as she noted the bruise already beginning to form on a familiar stubbled jaw.

"Alric? What the petch are you doing-" she cut off with a squeal as dark fingers wrapped around her hair and yanked, shoving Bron back and away from Alric.

Suddenly, the guard found herself slung back into the thick of an all-out gang fight in the middle of Brega's.

"Gods, Alric, help!!"



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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Alric Lysane on January 23rd, 2022, 10:59 am



As he got closer, and the throng of agitated drunks shifted slightly, he recognised the woman on the door – Bronwen. Upon reflection he should have realised sooner, there were few like her and their first meeting had left quite the impression. Still, so much had happened, and he had been distracted – a warning to himself that he needed to pay more attention whilst walking the streets, not to mention when around the few whom he could call friend or ally. Had he recognised her sooner he’d have likely been there quick enough to help her before one of the men had begun the assault.

As it was he was just in time to absorb her fall with a grunt of effort and the sliding backwards of his feet through the mud. Just as he regained his feet properly he was involved in the brawls with a punch to the jaw that was sloppy, glancing and weak. From one of the drunks, he noted as he was caught by surprise, Bron lashing out at the man, pushing him back and taking his legs out so that he rolled back into the throng. He was about to answer Bron, helping her back up to her feet, but she was snatched from his arms hair-first and dragged back into the throng.

I can’t have a normal meeting in Sunberth can I? was the absent thought that flickered across his mind as his anger flared at the situation, the men brawling and the one dragging Bron away, who was simply doing her job, in particular.

“Shyke” he breathed as one of the men noticed him again in their drunken stupor and lunged towards him.

Sidestepping so the lunge went past him Alric grabbed the back of the man’s jacket and threw him down the stairs, there to impact with a series of sickening thuds before crumpling at the bottom, sliding through the mud into a pile across the street. Briefly he saw the man try to push himself up, then slump back down, signalling they were still alive but probably regretted that fact. Either way one drunk was gone and that made things easier at least. He stepped forwards, ducking a few wild swings and sending a couple of jabs back, mostly just to knock the attackers away as he sought out his friend.

He found her, fingers still entangled in her hair and squealing, trying to get free so she could fight properly. The man’s back was to him and Alric wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, locking in the choke he had learned that very season, which made him let go of Bron and start trying to get out of the hold. His thrashing lessened after a doze ticks or so and he let go, letting the man fall forward to his knees for Bron to finish as she liked – he had attacked her after all, it seemed fair. As she finished the attacker off he felt a pressure upon his back that sent him stumbling into her this time.

He managed to brace himself so he landed on all fours and didn’t crush the air out of her, then rolled them both sideways as he had learned long ago on the streets – never leave your back exposed. Reminded once already yin this brawl he wasn’t about to forget a second time, pushing Bron off of him and to the side just in time to get his legs free and kick out and up at the would be attacker, taking the wind out of them and sending them for someone else to take advantage of.

He looked at Bron as he pushed himself to his feet, eyes flicking in all directions and seeing that most were busy with others, at least for now. That would change quickly.

“What the petch is going on Bron?!”

There was little time to talk though, another two breaking off to charge at them – this time they had weapons and he barely got his Broadsword out in time to deflect the first attack, knocking it sideways and kicking out at the man to send him back a pace and gain some space.



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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Bronwen on Yesterday, 2:47 pm

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The end of Bron's quarterstaff slammed into the face of the man Alric held, and as he slumped to the ground unmoving, she got a good look at his face. This man hadn't been at the brothel earlier, not with Jace and his crew, nor had he been with Asa.

Straightening, the guard glanced around with the dawning realization that men were coming in off the street to fight, but whether or not the new fighters had loyalties to Jace or Asa was unclear. For all Bron knew, they had seen a fight and wanted to join in. It was hard to tell.

Alric suddenly slammed into Bronwen, and the guard found herself flat on her back before the man's momentum rolled them both, and Alric unceremoniously shoved her to the side. Alric kicked out, sending a would-be attacker in the other direction, then jumped to his feet stance, ready for a fight as he asked for an explanation.

Good question she thought, scrambling to her feet.

"Daggerhand's day at the brothel" she wheezed out "Sun's Birth came looking for trouble, claiming the hands had stolen some weapons."

Bron's stormy gaze scanned the area just outside Brega's, and from what she could see, there were at least four or five men still inside Brega's, all exchanging blows, and another four were fighting outside. Definitely, more bodies had shown up, then. At a glance, if she were a betting woman, Bron would wager the newcomers were of Jace's lot and had remained in the shadows until Jace had managed to initiate whatever attack he had planned. It looked to Bronwen as if the five Daggerhands had no clue what was about to take place.

"Somehow," Bron continued, warily eyeing two men as they bore down on her and Alric's position "I need to clear out Brega's, get everyone outside."

Alric stepped away to face off with one of the oncoming men, and Bron stood ready to confront the other, stance widening with one foot slightly in front of the other. The man was tall, taller than Bronwen herself, and the fact that the attacker hid his hands behind his back shot a chill down her spine.

What was he...

Bron's mouth fell open as the man's arms swung out and into view, both hands wrapped tightly around the wooden handles of two long tonfas. To Bron, tonfas had always looked like someone had snapped a quarterstaff in half, attached a handle to each piece, and called it a weapon. But, the way this man swished, jabbed and spun his weapons in a show of force, never mind the size of the man's muscular arms, had the staff fighter swallowing hard.

Once the man was in spitting distance, he charged, one arm raised, the other held out by his side.


OOCIncomplete post...Alric has permission to Mod Shiress as needed :D

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