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 [COMPLETE:You hold, I'll Punch], Barroom Brawl
Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 22 2016, 02:13 PM
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Sellsword

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This Thread is

RATED PG-13

Language, Violence or Romance



((Tag: Zaniel Pryor ))

It was the end of a long day of fruitless job hunting, and Kayatice was feeling run down and pessimistic. Unlike earlier this morning, when the woman awoke with a glimmer of hope to keep her moving, she had begun to think that perhaps there wasn't any work for a mercenary like her in this city.

A born and bred Geheiman, Kayatice thought she knew all the ins and outs of this Kingdom. Instead, she had received quite an invitation upon her arrival to Erzstadt. Because it was the city at the foot of Castle Echtheit, its citizens were close-lipped, wary of strangers, and stingy with their goods. It didn't matter that Kayatice had the same pale look of the locals, or that she had her paperwork in order. She had not been born in Erzstadt and was therefore treated as an outsider.

It was with a distinct feeling of defeat that she pushed the tavern door open. Her feet felt heavy as she trudged through the taproom and took a seat at the bar. And when she gruffly called for a mug of ale, it was with far less cordiality than she generally gave to tavern keepers. She hoped, as she sipped upon ale that was of middling quality, that a good meal and some alcohol would be enough to set her to rights.

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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 22 2016, 02:53 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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Kayatice would soon find herself joined at the bar. The tavern was especially busy that night- the dinner rush was on and Zaniel had managed to arrive smack in the middle of it, unlike the past few days where he had arrived at the tail end and there had been plenty of seating. So, seating being scarce, he took the only open seat easily accessible at the bar. Which was fine by him since he intended on drinking himself silly that night. His commission with Lord Amsel had come to an end- the flooded mine had been rescued and the spring that had flooded it had been tapped into and now fed out the front of the mines in a temporary wooden trought.

But it had been a long day. Ever since his chance meeting with the Queen, Zaniel had found his time at the mines to be even more suffocating than before. Not only did he have irritated Miners watching his every move, but Lord Amsel's foremen as well. His answer he'd given the queen had favored neither party and apparently that just wasn't good enough. He didn't mind not being popular, but he really didn't like being unpopular, especially surrounded by men with pickaxes in a mine that always had a possibility of caving in. Mean. Accidents happen.

When he slipped onto the stool beside what he initially thought to be a young man, He signaled to the barkeep without saying a word. He'd been here nearly a week now and the man behind the counter was more than familiar with what Zaniel intended to order.

While he appeared a little disheveled he didn't feel or look nearly as tired and worn as he had the past few days. He hadn't needed to use half as much energy towards the end of the mine repairs that he had required at the start.
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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 22 2016, 03:19 PM
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Kayatice had gone to great lengths to disguise her gender, so it was no surprise that Zaniel mistook her for a man. She had pulled her hair back into a tight tail at the base of her neck, had bound what little swell of breasts she possessed until it was as flat as the bartop upon which she rest her ale mug, and wore clothes cut for a square figure as opposed to ones designed for feminine curves.

There were whipcord muscles along her arms and shoulders, and her thighs were thick and powerful. She had never bothered to tame her eyebrows, kept her nails short and neat, and spoke gruffly if she spoke at all. In a world where some folk still believed that women were the weaker sex, impersonating a male mercenary instead of a female one had earned the woman more business, and more respect, than she ever had in her travels as a woman sellsword.

So when Zaniel plopped down in the empty seat to her right, Kayatice grunted and raised her mug at him in the same sort of gruff greeting she'd seen men give one another time and time again. And then, rather than striking up a conversation, the woman went back to her drinking.
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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 22 2016, 10:22 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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Drink thunked down in front of him, Zaniel picked it up and gave his neighbor a similar greeting, tipping his head back slightly before taking a long drink. He had been seated for less than three minutes before the tavern doors opened and a gruff voice broke the noisy chatter of the full tavern,

"Argent".

Without turning his head, Zan glanced to the side as he lowered his cup slowly. Being called an Argent was a common mistake- most people seemed to assume if you possessed a gift, especially a powerful one, then you must have been an Argent. Then, despite the fact he knew the word had been aimed at him to get his attention, he ignored it and took another drink. The chatter in the tavern resumed, but this time at a lower humm than before.

"I'ma talk'n to you," the voice growled.

The man who had demanded attention from across the tavern had obviously not gotten the attention of who he had directed his words at. The patrons looked amongst themselves- one or two miners that Zan had spoken with a few times during his stay turned their stares directly towards his back and waited to see if he would acknowledge the man. Still he hadn't. Instead he lifted his cup and drained the rest of it's contents, then knocked back the shot of hard liquor that the keep had set down before he finished his mug. After this he gave a small sigh and stared down a the shot, giving it a mostly unemotional look.

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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 23 2016, 09:08 AM
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Like the man beside her, Kayatice ignored the shouts of the stranger, too. He was calling for an Argent, and though the mercenary most definitely possessed the Gifts which were said to be granted by angels, Kayatice herself had never been scouted by the Argents, nor taken to their monastery for training. She did not, nor would she ever, bear that honorable title.

Nor, it seemed, did the person sitting at her side. He showed a similar lack of concern over the commotion taking place at the door, and so the two of them continued to sit and drink in silence. Kayatice had hoped to be able to come to this tavern and enjoy her ale in peace, but if that lout at the door kept up his shouting, she might have to march over there and silence him. Hadn't anyone ever heard of walking up to one's target and simply talking? Were the men in this region all raised by orcs?

She chuckled, tipped her mug back, and took another drink.
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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 23 2016, 07:27 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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Not to be ignored, the man that had shouted from the door began to make his way towards the bar. It was almost a straight path and the people who crowded the walk way began to shuffle backwards as the man's finger pointed at his target and jabbed at the air, "Don't ignore me." His path cut through a maze of tables that slowed him yet by very little. The screeching of wooden stools over the smoothed stone floors further cut the chatter in the tavern. Zaniel motioned to the Barkeep with one finger, pointing to the smaller of the two cups. The tender was nearly too distracted by the man with the thunderous voice, yet he managed to fill the glass in the end, a little sloshing onto the counter. What a waste...., Zaniel had thought to himself before knocking back the contents of the little cup. The liquid burned down his throat and settled in the pit of his empty stomach like boiling water.

"Lord Amsell is want'n ta have words!" The man had finally made it and stood less than two feet from both patrons at the bar- a little off set from being directly behind Zaniel.

Zaniel dropped his gaze to his lower left, almost as if staring at his bar neighbor's elbow. "Well they don't sound like they'll be very kind words, then," He finally acknowledged the other man with a deep frown and a sharp tone, though still he didn't turn to face him.

The man, now in full view of most of the tavern goers, was dressed rather pompously for someone to have been visiting this particular tavern, even as good of reputation it had. He was obviously someone's man, or perhapse overseer of the mines, or likely both. A large man, surely, and bald. He looked as if once he'd had the body of a trained prized fighter, but now a distinct pot belly had settled on his gut and his nose had grown crooked and bulbous with age.

He looked furious with the tone that had been taken up with him, even if Zaniel had been called an Argent-- to which, and what only proved to make the man more furious, Zaniel tilted his head ever so slightly and scoffed, "And I am not an Argent." Nobles. They were all in one ear and out the other, in his opinion. Only grasping and retaining the information they wanted or could use at a later date.

Whatever had set this man in a foul mood before his entry into the tavern to seek out his Lords' former commissioned workmen, well, it had finally peaked at the jeerish tone. He wasn't the fastest man in the game, for when he made a sudden swing aimed to clock his offender in the back of the head, Zaniel ducked swiftly enough to avoid it. The man fell into his own throw and stumbled between the two at the bar, catching himself at the chest- it was quite the mess, ale from both Zaniel and his neighbor's mug going every direction on the bar top. It poured off both sides of it, likely into the lap of his neighbor and on his own.

He leaned to the side slightly after righting his cup, the older man struggling against the bar to find footing. "Tsk"
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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 24 2016, 01:06 PM
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It seemed that Kayatice's luck wasn't going to hold out, if she'd ever had any luck to begin with. Despite her most fervent hopes that the shouting stranger would get tired of shouting and leave, the man instead chose to march right up and continue bellowing directly behind where Kate was seated at the bar. She knew that the ruckus wasn't directed at her, but just as she was about to sneak a look and find out who was the target, the man to her right spoke.

So. Some Lordling couldn't bother his pretty head with fetching this man himself, and so sent his most diplomatic of employees out to do the dirty work for him. Typical, she thought, and snorted. And then it happened: out of seemingly nowhere, Lord Amsel's servant swung his meaty arms, missed, and careened right into Kate's ale mug, sending froth and liquor in every direction.

"Oy!" she jumped to her feet, brushing ale from her trousers to no avail. It'd already soaked in and started to stink. "Watch where you're waving those things, you lack-witted stampcrab!"
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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 24 2016, 01:43 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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The great olf of a man slipped on the now ale-covered floor, it's stones smooth as river rocks and just as slippery. He had caught himself by one arm on the bar and had turned beet red in the face as several laughs were crowed out by the tavern's occupants. "Hnt!" He pushed himself to his feet by using Kayatince's empty stool and support from the bar, "Shut ya mouth, insolent child!" Kayatince looked like a very youthful young man after all. "'Er y'll be regrett'n those words!"

While the man righted himself Kayatince previous bar neighbor had slipped out of his own seat and brushed his lap off with both hands, though like Kayatince it had done little good. He gave a heavy sigh and stepped back as the man had finally righted himself and snapped at the other patron. The man turned to face Zaniel, throwing the stool he'd used to get up with towards the ground as he did so not watching for if it hit only the floor, "Make a fool outta'me, huh?" Zaniel's attention was entirely on the man, save for a short glance at his ex-neighbor, "No, I think you're doing quite good at that yourself." He put one hand on his hip and motioned towards the crowd, "They're enjoying a good show with their meal, so by all means continue your current course of action, less you deprive them of a good rumor that Lord Amsell's men can't control their tempers."

The man gritted his teeth, fists balled.
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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 24 2016, 01:53 PM
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On any other day, Kay would have been able to ignore the arrogant man's taunting. On any other day, she'd have simply shaken her head, picked up the barstool after it'd been cast aside, and asked the bartender if it was too much trouble for a refill -- on the angry man's tab, of course. On any other day, she'd have finished off her mug of ale, paid good coin for a room for one night, and gone to bed without so much as a second glance at the idiot who'd spilled her drink.

There was just one problem: today was not any other day.

Today had been disappointing, exhausting, and overlong. It'd been stressful and full of let-downs and too many bad things happening without good ones to even things out. So when that near-full mug of ale got sloshed all over Kay's only set of clean clothes, it served as the final straw on top of a heap of others that'd been growing since the sun rose this morning.

She clenched her jaw, and felt her hands mirroring that motion until they were clenched into fists. "I'm not the one who oughta be keeping his mouth shut," she replied frostily, and almost too quietly to be heard above the laughter that was aimed at Amsel's hired man.
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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 24 2016, 03:35 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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"Thas enough! The next person ta make a peap'll find themselves in the stocks!" The man shouted, sweeping his arm to the side as he turned his attention on the crowd. It stopped the laughing but several loud chuckles remained. As he turned back to Zaniel and stepped to close the distance between them, he slipped again, this time able to right himself before he ended up in a pile on the floor. A few snickers and chuckles escaped the crowd. He jabbed a finger towards Zaniel, pecking him on the chest as he stepped closer, "Ya'coming with me, or I'mma drag you from thas tavern."

Zaniel leaned forward slightly with a hardened stare, "You and what army, porky?," He taunted, tired of the man's insistence and attempts to order him about. He hadn't wronged Lord Amsel- he'd given the answer he had to the Queen that had worked for both parties, hadn't he? That's when the man dropped his tone to a threatening one, though his voice carried regardless over the hush he had created in the tavern, and his issue became clear. "You deflowered Lord Amsel's middle daughter, and he will have you brought to justice." At the accusation Zaniel lost his hard glare and straightened up with a bark of laughter,, "Sir, I can guarantee you I've been no where in the vicinity of any of Lord Amsel's daughters," He shook his head and smiled tauntingly, lowering his voice, "Though with as angry as you seem," He looked the man up and down, "I'd say that flower was likely picked quite awhile go."

The man lost it. He shoved Zaniel with both hands against his chest and with enough force that the non-Argent was sent stumbling back into a table behind him, bumping it hard enough to slosh the contents of cups onto the table by a good bit. He only laughed again, though weather it was because he'd found this situation legitimately funny or was drunk, well, it was debatable. "I'm a little disappointed in her taste, really!"

Cute previously very amused and again laughing patrons to being, well, less than amused as their drinks and food clattered to the ground when the man pounced on Zaniel. They had a tuss that lasted only a few seconds against the table before the patrons of it shoved the pair off the table and into the next group of seated men on a long bench. That's when mugs began to fly, more than one pitched towards the tumbling pair. They soared over head and missed, their accidental target? Kayatince.

This post has been edited by Kate: Aug 24 2016, 03:37 PM
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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 24 2016, 03:54 PM
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Oh-ho!

Though Lord Amsel's man was throwing accusations around like a pig kicking up mud, the Argent-who-wasn't-an-argent seemed to be able to neatly deflect them and fire his own ripostes right back. It only served to anger the big brute further, however, and in very short order, the situation dissolved into chaos. Lord Amsel's man went flying into a table, those men in their turn ended up crashing into a second table... And all of the displaced tavern customers aimed their retaliative mugs at Lord Amsel's man. Not all of them found their mark, for some of those mugs hurtled straight toward Kayatice!

She narrowly dodged one, but a second landed squarely upon her left shoulder. She let out a very unladylike curse and swung around to see which unlucky patron had been the one to throw it. Of course, by the time her sharp gaze reached the place she had deemed to be the point of origin, the floor was bare. It seemed as though they'd all taken advantage of the situation in order to get a few jabs aimed at Lord Amsel's man, whether he had crashed into their table or not.

Just then, from over her shoulder and back behind the bar, the barkeep bellowed, "Get 'im outta 'ere!"

He feared for the state of his tavern if the entire taproom's worth of patrons decided to take up arms against Lord Amsel's thug. Seeing an opportunity - or, rather, an excuse to lay hands on the man - Kayatice snatched up the back of the fellow's collar and hauled him bodily toward the door. She was surprisingly strong for someone so slender, but more than that, she knew how to keep a large fellow off his balance so that he had no choice BUT to follow. And all the while, she swore a stream of foul language at him the likes of which was fit to peel the paint from the tavern's walls.
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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 29 2016, 01:27 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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Lord Amsel's man did not take kindly to being hauled off his feet by what appeared to be a much smaller man. He stumbled and cursed half way through the tavern, grasping at chairs and tables as he passed while attempting to regain his balance. As his luck would have it, he managed to size a bowl of hot soup and with a jerkish un-aimed motion, he tossed the bowl and it's contents towards the head of his shepard.

Everyone had been laughing hysterically at the sight of the man being lead away by a shorter and younger man, but when he sloshed the hot contents of the bowl a collective gasp went up in the crowd and some even cringed. The contents of the bowl had been hot enough to still hold a little steam. Zaniel had picked himself up off the floor in the mean time- the man had managed to land a few ill-placed hits that mostly glanced off, but would cause a decent ache in the morning regardless.
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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Aug 29 2016, 01:39 PM
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Sellsword

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Kayatice let out a yelp and swiped at her face with a sleeve. Lord Amsel's man, whom she'd been mentally referring to as Stampcrab for the past several minutes, took the opportunity he'd been given then and wrenched himself away from the mercenary's grasp. And while Kayatice had somehow managed to keep up her masculine disguise and prevented herself from shrieking, that yelp was still considerably higher-pitched than that which a grown adult male would produce.

Furious, and dripping broth from brow and chin, the woman decided she had had enough of this whole debacle and grabbed the closest weapon to hand: a heavy, wooden serving bowl. Previously, all it had held was a selection of bread chunks for guests to soak in their stew. Now it held some of Kayatice's anger as she swung it with all her might toward Stampcrab's head. She hoped the man was too caught up with praising himself over his ingenuity to realize what was happening. Feeling that bowl connect with the side of his meaty head would have been immensely satisfying!
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Zaniel Pryor
 Posted: Aug 29 2016, 03:52 PM
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Don't think there is no danger simply because the water is calm . . .

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Unfortunately for Kayatice, Stampcrab wasn't as dumb as he looked. The moment he felt the release of his shirt and had found his footing, the man had stood and spun on the smaller figure- her hit landed against a meaty arm rather than a meaty head. Without a moments hesitation he made to grab the smaller man around the throat with both hands, enraged that anyone would have dare embarrassed him further by attempting to drag him out the door.

That's when a number of patrons leapt forward once again. While it appeared they were jumping to the smaller one's aid, and perhapse some of them might have been, really they were looking to get their own hits in on Lord Amsel's man while they could. It was highly unlikely any of them would be identified later for individual retribution from Lord Amsel, unlike if they had picked a fight with the man on a public street in broad daylight on a one-on-one fight.

As all hell broke loose once more, the tavern door swung open and a hand full of men came walking in. They had come with the intentions of fetching their companion (Stampcrab) for a night of festivities after he had insisted he had work to be done that would only take a matter of minutes at the Tavern. The first three in the door stopped and stared at the spectacle before them, four more in the back and lingering outside hadn't yet noticed and seemed to be laughing loudly amongst themselves over something. "Oi!" Stampcrab had shouted, spying his companions standing all lackadaisy and slack-jawed like in the doorway, "Help me, ya mor'ns!"

Spurred into action, the first three dove in head-first and fists swinging, soon followed by the other four once they realized what was going on.

Zaniel had watched the whole ordeal spiral out of control once more from several feet away. He had also heard what sounded like a higher pitched shout of anger than any of the men in the tavern should have given, but since he hadn't seen it's source, he assumed there was perhaps a bar wrench floating around that he had missed upon entering.
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Kayatice Fitral
 Posted: Sep 1 2016, 11:14 AM
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Sellsword

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While the tavern keeper sputtered and fumed and tried to get the brawling patrons to take their business outside, Kayatice watched in dismay as the wooden bowl she'd hoped to strike Stampcrab with was beaten aside by the man's meaty hand. She swiped at her dripping face and hair a second time, and narrowly missed Stampcrab's return blow. His fist swiped over the top of her head, closely enough to tousle her hair.

Growling, she threw the bowl at the man's face and had intended to use the distraction to aim a kick squarely at the man's groin, when another bar patron literally dove between them from off a table and landed head first on the floor. He had grossly misjudged the situation and botched what would have normally been an easy attempt at a tackle, and Kayatice's kick hit that unlucky man in the gut instead.

Leaping backwards with uncanny grace, the woman dodged yet another punch, this one thrown by the friend of the man she'd accidentally kicked. Seeking another weapon, and unwilling to draw her sword for fighting in such close quarters, Kayatice blindly groped around behind herself along the bartop and hoped to come across something she could use.
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