Open Chronicles The Beginnings

[Sibylle]

Allir Reach - Greyhome

"Fighting pits?" Sibylle asked with a tilt of her head, looking down on the halfling who swept his mug from the table and took a deep swig of his ale.

She had come to Greyhome only a few hours ago, taken a room here at the Forlorn Rose and then proceeded to mingle as much as she could with those that spent their evenings here. It turned out that this village consisted mostly of halflings, though there was a sizeable human population and a smattering of orcs that made their home here as well.

All around it was a pleasant and quiet sort of place, that was why she felt it so unlikely that fighting pits or anything of the sort would actually be found within the quaint little village.

"Aye lass!"​

The Halfling said with an excited glow in his eyes.

"Tis' all legal, sanctioned by the mayor. Always stops before anyone dies, lots of best, town gets a cut so we can build new docks and the like."​

Sibylle leaned forward slightly, an excited glint in her eye. She had never seen a fight before, at least not a real one. There had been a few bouts between boys, angry young men who had been arguing about one stupid thing or another. Yet the prospect of a real duel? Well that was more than a little bit exciting. She smirked slightly. "When do they start."

Another smirk flickered over the Halflings lips.

"Seven! Past the ol' barn to the east. There's a ring built, but if you comin you best be ready to put down some coppers."​

Sibylle smiled, remembering the pouch of gold that her parents had given her before she'd screamed that she was leaving.

"I don't think that will be a problem." She said, leaning back with a smile.

 

[Volker]

Volker was so used to fighting pits, they were as familiar as his own cradle. The poorly built box with slats along the side to cage in the contestants. The deep set into the floor and the grimy sand, no doubt from dredging the poles for the docks, coated the floor. There were men clustered around, and some of the rougher women, shouting bets as he was led into the pit. His master, a wizened and undead creature named Oor, had one finger hooked into the ornate steel mask over the bottom half of his face.

He looked as though he were leading a horse, and that was exactly what it was meant to look like. Oor smiled mirthlessly at Volker. Just a bit of fun to keep you sharp while we wait for the boat. He said lightly, as though they’d entered a carnival rather than a pit where men were about to die. Whether they meant to or not.

Volker stood silently, listening to the loud rebukes of his appearance. Old seemed to be the chief complaint, though several sharp-eyed creatures in the crowd caught sight of his barrel chest, strong shoulders, and powerful legs, and increased their bets. Oor unbuckled the mask and patted his cheek, and slid a hand down to his thigh to remove his knives. Volker always had them on a roll around his right thigh.

Just teeth this time. Can’t be accused of cheating. Oor whispered to him, and went to perch on a bench. The wraith was wearing a fine black suit, a rarity since the undead usually preferred less restrictive garments. Pitch black, and accented in silk, it stood in stark contrast to delicate parchment skin, a bald head, eyeless and lipless head, and the soft red glow of the soul pinned to the withered body. He looked as though someone had dug up a noble and set him on the bench.

Volker rolled his shoulders, and settled into a fighting stance. The first to enter, a young dockworker, lunged at him right from the moment the rag fell. Volker stepped aside, bound up his legs with one of his own, and punched him in the back of the head. He was expected to step away and see if the young man would recover. All he did was wait for him to roll onto his back.

Volker closed his teeth around the young man’s face, and crunched down. The crowd shouted as he bit down through bone, tearing away lips and bits of cheek.

Sibylle

 

[warrencoe]

Warren was among the crowd. He had planned to go to a town called Greenholm but decided to try his luck in the fighting pit of Greyhome. "Me next! I mean, if you got no-one else to fight?" Warren called out. He knew a fair amount of tricks and decided to give them a shot. Just to try it out. Cant be that bad, could it?
(OOC: Don't kill me. Just say yes or no and describe your characters feelings like thoughts. Maybe "How could that lanky kid fight?")

 

[Fera]

A strange creature sat atop a tall wooden stake, looking all the more incongruous for how out in the open she was. An extremely fluffy raccoon, large as a dog and so round and fat as to be as wide as she was tall. Rather than black and white she was shades of brown and orange, though her nose was blue and the insides of her ears were purple. Even more strange was that she spoke in a clear, though slightly scratchy soprano.

"Take your bets! The Hooded Menace versus Face Eater! Four-to-one on Face Eater. Quadruple your money or play it safe!"

She scribbled on a scroll held tightly in tiny, dextrous paws, dipping her claw directly into a inkwell to scribble directly onto the scroll. She did her best not to look at the ruined face of the man they were carrying out of the ring, and instead glanced at the crowd for Renn, the ringleader, to see if he would have this face eater arrested. Fighting was bad enough without the contestants eating one another!

Out of the corner of her eye she spied a hand go for the satchel hanging from the pole beneath her feet. Fera lashed out with tooth and claw, doing no damage but putting on a fierce display nonetheless, and the man jumped back in fright.
"I jus' wanted to bet on Face Eater!" the man said.

Sure you did, she thought, but smiled apologetically, small black eyes glinting.

"In my hand next time! No-one touches the money bag except me." She took his money and his name, then went back to screeching her terms before spotting a red haired girl looking at her strangely.

"You there, new girl! Care to back the Hooded Menace? Or play it safe with Face Eater?"

 

[Mute]

It had been a while since the mute had been in a good fight. Oh, he'd had to clonk a few heads together in his line of work, that was for sure, but any violence he'd partaken in recently had been pretty one sided. A fair, decent fist fight certainly wasn't how he usually made his coin, but if nothing else, it would do him some good. Working as a body guard when there were few people stupid enough to start trouble with him around, he was starting to get out of practice. Besides, it was easy money.

... Or perhaps not. As he entered the sordid little under ground den, he caught sight of the middle aged man and spent a moment watching him. He could be trouble. He was a lot older than most of the other fighters, but certainly not so old as to hinder his performance. If anything, it was his experience that showed. A man like that fought smart. Smart enough to outwit him, most likely. This certainly wouldn't be an easy win. Should he risk it? Well, why on earth not? Even if he lost, it would certainly be worth the entry fee just to test his strength against a veteran fighter like that. Perhaps he could learn some new tricks before the fight was over.

As for the hooded man... Mute wasn't worried. The boy looked fast and agile, but didn't look like he had enough muscle on him to cause too much damage. His initial opinion was that the boy was green. Green as fresh cut grass and over confident to boot. He'd probably gotten lucky in a few tavern brawls and now thought himself invincible. Well, time would tell, he supposed.

As he searched for the booker in this dismal little place, his eyes fell on the most peculiar creature he'd ever seen in his life. Sweet Xho above, what the hell was this abomination? Some kind of panda? And who on earth had taken it upon themselves to dye the poor creature's fur? This was woman's work, he was sure of that much. No man would ever dip a defenseless animal in a vat of orange dye just for their own amusement.

As it soon turned out though, this creature wasn't someone's pet. This was an intelligent, sentient being who could speak as well as any human... And far better than himself, for that matter. Mute really was beside himself to see such a peculiar little animal taking bets. But then, in this city, Mute had seen just about everything. In the end, he decided to put his unease aside and simply approach the beast, placing a handful of coppers down on the table. He then clenched his fist tightly, trying to gesture that he was looking for a fight. Hopefully the animal would understand that this was an entry fee and not a bet. Otherwise he'd have to go through the tedious task of trying to communicate his intentions without words.