Open Chronicles Brothels and broken things

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Cassian

The Outcast
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676
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Cassian's most recent job had paid well, he'd managed to increase the fee by double, and yet in three days he'd still managed to blow all but eight coppers on women, alcohol and gambling. He'd been in the same Allirian brothel now for going on ten hours, but the ale kept flowing and the women were decent enough at least to this particularly intoxicated patron. His still half-full tankard slammed on the table three times, "More ale!" he grumbled and belched before lifting the vessel to his lips for another swig, though he held only the handle and squinted down at the table, the rest of the tankard on it's side with the remaining ale now trickling from the table and onto the floor.

"What kin'a fuckin' brothel are yeh people runnin'!?" the bear of a man bellowed, standing from his seat and flipping the table half way across the room, waving the broken tankard handle around in his fist in utter disgust.. "Kin'a shittin cups are these eh?! MORE FUCKIN' ALE!!!!!!" he yelled at nobody in particular, spinning his body around like a penned bull, waiting to attack whomever was responsible for his current lack of a drink.

A woman finally stuttered at him, her tone betraying her exhaustion from trying to ease the man's temper .. "It ent a brothel, sir! We've been tellin' yeh tha' fer hours - it's a tavern, an' yer been beddin' the owner's daughter - yer best get goin', he's been sent fer sir!" Cassian spun to growl at her, throwing the tankard handle at her without consideration of her words. She shielded her face and backed away "I don't care about the whore - just the fuckin' ale!" and he'd just taken a stride toward the wench when SLAM went the introduction to said tavern owner. And he'd brought company!

"That 'whore' is me daughter!!!!" he'd roared as he tackled Cassian.. Shit, maybe he wasn't in a brothel after all.

It'd taken four of them to get him on the ground, though his bulky arms and legs flailed as he lay in the puddle of his last tankard of ale. He managed to land al elbow into one man's face, hearing the crunch of a broken nose just as his fist found another face and a foot launched a third across the room and over the bar. Another few men piled on, now seven in total, keeping him restrained as he yelled and cursed, his voice booming with rage. "Get tha fuck off ya basta-!" He didn't enjoy surprises, most certainly not the kind of surprise that came in the form of a large boot pounding into his face. His nose exploding with blood as it too, broke. He fought hard, and the men struggled to keep hold of him, but they realised that if they let him go they'd live to regret it. They beat him with fists, boots, clubs and chairs until he was no longer fighting back, and as he lay coughing and spitting the blood from his mouth, the mob grabbed hold of him in unison, and threw him unceremoniously out into the street where he landed with a thud on his back, chuckling to himself with a gargle and sputter of blood. "Ay! Keep the change eh lass!!" he snorted, blowing a kiss into the air and simply lay there, groaning in acceptance of a fair beating, uncaring of those in the street peering down at him or at the ginger kitten who'd tottered out of her hiding place to wander over and curl up on his chest to take a nap.
 
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Adius was walking down the streets of Alliria, his hometown, visiting his younger brother as he watched a man beaten bloody be tossed into the street. He'd almost landed on top of Adius, and the man paused his walking, the long wooden stick carved out for walking held tightly in his right hand, his grey robes muddied at the hem from walking. He stroked his beard with his left hand, adjusting the straps of the satchel he wore on his back. He grumbled to himself and prodded the man with the butt end of his staff. "Sir, sir. Are you conscious?" He spoke as he continued to prod the side of the man.

He sighed and knelt down, swinging his back pack down in front of him and setting the stick down on the ground. He didn't care for wasting his resources but he certainly wasn't going to leave the man to choke to death on his own blood. He rummaged through his satchel, finding what he was looking for and pulling it out. The small vial with a light blue liquid seemed very menial, but was in fact among the strongest things Adius had the ability to create with his alchemy. It was a shot of life that would provide immediate medical relief to those who were all but completely dead. The full bottle was powerful enough to restart your heart, or end it, and a small drop on the lips would send an shock to the body that would awake someone from being unconscious or dizzy.

Adius poured a small drop on the lips of the man, and awaited his reaction. He remained kneeling beside him, and eyed the cat. What a peculiar situation this was.
 
Cassian had only rested his eyes for a moment, punch drunk and drunk-drunk he was still cursing under his breath. He hardly felt the prodding of the man's walking stick, luckily enough for the man.. The small ginger kitten however, uncurled on Cassian's chest in attempt to bat at it with a white mittened paw as it assaulted her human.

The large man grunted and groaned to himself, still fighting with the tavern folks in his mind, unaware of the stranger kneeling at his side, though the kitten remained curious and jumped down from the man's heaving chest to have a rummage in the satchel too.

He didn't feel the droplet land on his bloody lip either, and so it trickled into his mouth and a second later his eyes were wide on the man hanging over him. Cassian's body coursed with adrenaline..with -something- and whatever that something was, sprung him into action. Rolling quickly to his feet, his arm swung at the man in attempt to grab him by the throat or collar and tear his feet away from the ground in sheer fury. Tasting the remnants of whatever the stranger had given him, Cassian spat at the ground and bellowed "What troll piss is this?!!!". Cassian glared with the eyes of an absolute madman. He wasn't a pleasant man to behold at the best of times, but now his nose was crooked and broken and his face and beard were covered in his own blood, and he was more pissed off than he'd been five minutes ago. Beatings, he could handle, but magic? -if that's what it was- well he hated that shit.

Only the little kitten's backside was visible from the man's satchel, and Cassian caught sight of her and growled even more at the man, his tone lowering but growing far more dangerous... "First, yeh try teh poison me with piss....now yeh try teh steal my fuckin CAT?!" It was a crime punishable by death in Cassian's eyes..but perhaps not in a busy street, he didn't do well locked up. It was certainly a crime worthy of a launching, and if the stranger hadn't already managed to evade his grip, Cassian would pull his elbow back, and put every ounce of his newfound energy into throwing the man into the stack of empty beer barrels across the street.