Open [Lantern Square] Black, Blue and Gray [Vice]

[Kreig Messer]

Fall 64th 514 AV, 12thbell


Lantern Square, out of all the places in Kenash, Kreig actually found himself liking it. For some reason compared to the rest of the city it felt....right, at least whatever constituted ar right in Kreig's mind. The brawler was dressed in his casual clothing as he walked around the area. He wore a black shirt with whute breeches and leather highboots. to complete the ensemble he wore his khaki wide brimmed hat. He didn't know what others thought of his choice of wardrobe, probably cheap looking knowing this city, but truly he didn't care.. it was practical and let him move unhindered.

At his waist hung his studded guantlets by a string, with a peace tie strung on one of them. He didn't know if the Kenashy thought of guantlets as weapons, but considering the nature of these particular guantlets he thought it wise to lean on the side of caution ' The things I do for the Order' He sighed.

The atmosphere of the square wasn't as busy as other places he felt, more for leisure and light gatherings than anything else. He tried his best to ignkre the presence of what slaves were around, each time he looked at their faces he wished he could do something for them...But politics tied his hands, and he didn't really want to burden any decent people in the city with his shenanigans.

He sighed again as he sat upon a comfortable chair that was strewn about with other furniture, watching the various people discussing event of the quietly or telling each other small (Or tall ) tales to each other. When he looked at the people here, even some of the slaves, it felt like they were all close to equal. He snorted at that, if a Dynadt had hear him they'd probably do everything possible to remove that feeling if equality.... people could be bought and sold on a whim to them, it sickened him to the core.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of these negative thoughts....it didn't do him any good, he knew ' As much as it pisses me off, they're a product of their past just like Syliras and Sunberth. Right and Wrong had different tones with them' He kept telling himself that, knowing it was a bitter truth that he had to accept.

Still, this city with all its visage of being luxorious and civilized culture felt more savage underneath. He wanted to unleash the violence it made him felt the only way he knew how....


And it seemed like the gods were listening; There was a gent with a single gauntlet on his right....a freeborn mark decorating his left wrist. The man was formidable looking, he didn't need to look twice to note that of the man.

The corner of his lips extended i to a wide bloodthirsty grin as he picked himself up from the chair, placing his unmarked hand in his ocket as he caually walked tkwards the gent.

' A fight, I can feel it....a FIGHT!! I feel giddy' His movements hinted as much as he crept closer, if the gent had any associates or friends with him... well Kreig didn't much give a shyke at the moment as he now stood before the man with that blood thirsty smile... Hoping that the gent could guess at ehy he stoos before him.


"A FIGHT!!'
x

[Vice]

.

It was the very same passage of time that had honed Alfred Lancaster into a weapon for the Dynasties to rely on that had also honed him into becoming an example for the uncouth and newly arrived visitors in the city to look upon and emulate. The Gray Fist, as he was also known, was hailed by some as a hero, others as a legend, and by more still as an articulate warrior. A warrio-poet was perhaps going too far with the notion, but he was one who knew to speak with more than his fists and to do more than fence with the tongue.

Destroyer of Zith. Repellant of the Drykas. The Freeborn Fighter. The Gray Fist.

Titles upon titles were what Alfred Lancaster wore due to his short, but extremely eventful service to the city, and as he passed through the vibrant light of Lantern Square, the Freeborn tutor found that he was quickly offered a free drink by the patronage. A smile graced his features as he thanked the slave for the rum, Lancaster quickly emptying the contents of the glass before placing it back on the tray that the slave carried. The joy of the situation would quickly fade when Lancaster cast his gaze upon a strange hooligan who walked forth.

It was when this very hooligan stepped forward that Alfred Lancaster looked upon his face to find the bloodthirsty gaze of a savage, and the tutor immediately came to the assumption that this opponent, while imposing, needed to be taught that one did not wear such a face in the city. And it was when he shouted out that Mr. Lancaster quickly found the nearest slave and removed from his grasp an empty tray, swinging the plate in his hand and casting it forward towards the strange, menacing Freeborn opponent. Without looking to see if the surprise strike landed, Lancaster raised his fists and parted his legs in a stance, ready for his opponent, should he or should he not need to recover, to strike.

"A fight, my friend? Then, let's have a fight. Could use a bit of noise in the Square, anyway. This place's dead as you'll be if you let up for even a second."
.

[Kreig Messer]

The brawler stepped, surprised that the man would throw at hin a tray ' I know we're gonna make a ness but thats no reason to use stuff to make even more stuff for the slaves to clean' That ticked him a litte as he knocked the tray away by stricking its bottom with the back of his left fist.

He took a boxers stance as he raised his fists close to his face and watched his opponent. The man was a dandy, admittedly a dangerouse one else Kreig wouldn't have picked a fight with him, it seemed he was also a talker too which suited Kreig quite well really.


" Oh don't worry, I don't plan to ruin the secenery with my corpse. To be honest yours would blend in quite well, I'd be doing you an honor" Kreig retorted as he examined his foe, the man was desciplined in his stance and despite his dandiness Kreig got the feeling there was a savageness between his visage, else why would he take up the challenge l? ' Teach me a lesson I bet, would be a fine excuse to hide behind' Kreig thought.

for a breif, insiginifacent moment he debated if he should feign inexperiance, block the mans attack whilst getting a feel for his style. He quickly tossed that thought out on its petching arse, he didn't think it would do him a slight bit of good against him.

So with that out of the way he launched forward, feiging the motion for a left straight punch tkwards his face but in reality he raised the opposite leg to strike at his head from the side annd quickly follow it up with a kick from his left to the mans side. A straight forward attack would be a far better indicator of skill in this situation than the previous idea.

' Lets get it rolling, vagik'
x

[Kreig Messer]

NoteWith permission from Vice


The Gray Fist, real name Alfred Lancaster, didn’t fall for the feint for even a tick as he stepped back and allowed Kreig’s kick to harmless miss him. Without wasting time the renowned fighter moved forward, ducking low to evade an incoming right cross punch from the brawler and came up to retaliate with an uppercut with his right hand ‘ Bastards pretty good’ Kreig thought as he barely avoided the blow as he stepped back to the right, retracting his right arm only for his wrist to be held on to by the Gray Fist’s left hand, who then promptly pulled forward and knee striked the brawler in his abdomen.

Kreig gasped as all air left his body at the strike, but the Gray Fists didn’t plan to stop there as he grabbed Kreig by his hair and yanked him up to give him a solid punch in the face with his armored right. Kreig was sent sprawling to the ground as he blood flew from his mouth and nose, some of it drenching the Gray Fists trademark gauntlet in the process. One couldn’t be sure what the Gray Fist was thinking at the moment, he could have thought Kreig impressive for standing back up with that barbaric smile on his face or perhaps the opposite and took the Brawler from Syliras a fool for not staying down.

Kreig didn’t care either way, as if fitting the impression of a dumb wild beast he charged forward with heavy left punch aimed at the Gray Fist’s right punch. The Gray Fist had easily blocked with a raised arm and was about to counter when something caught off him guard; Mainly that of the brawler spitting a bloody phlegm at his face, which caused him to involuntarily close his eyes as to protect them…. One would assume that , other than perhaps the obvious feeling of disgust, he didn’t enjoy what it had brought. For Kreig it had created a slight opening for him to abuse, one that he had no trouble exploiting as he payed the Gray Fist back with a knee strike of his own. The Gray Fist, much like a mirror image of Kreig’s experience, gasped in sudden pain as the strike hit his abdomen…. Then felt his own short ruffle of hair being grabbed as it his head was lifted slightly….then brought down hard on Kreig’s left knee not once but twice prior to being shoved to the side.

Kreig then moved closer, a manic grin decorating his face as he approached with the intent to kick the Gray Fist’s side. As he commenced the action for the kick however, his foot was caught mid swing as the Gray Fist raised himself to his knees and pushed Kreig off balance and made him fall on his rump. The Fist wasted not a tick as he moved over Kreig’s waist ready to deliver a series of brutal punches but just as quickly as he came atop of the brawler so too did he get off as Kreig tossed a patch of dirt into his eyes and gave him a solid left hook to the side of his face.

The Gray Fist, his visibility only half hampered made sure to roll away and stand up in an immediate defensive posture as he stared at his wild combatant. Kreig himself was now back on two feet and took his time to briefly examine the fist whilst the Fist did the same. In the brief scuffle they looked like a sorry lot. Both their heads were a bit swolled, the Fist’s temple dripped blood from Kreig’s knee strikes whilst the left of his face was turning pink and Kreig himself looked wors as blood dripped from his nose and mouth, his dark shirt stained by patches of his own blood. The manic smile never left Kreig however as he looked at the Gray Fist with an amount of respect that was given to those who gave him a lot of trouble. The Gray Fist for his part seemed to enjoying it as well, at least that’s what it looked to Kreig,

“Oy, ye vagik. Yer face is lookin’ a wee bit like shyke” Kreig taunted friendlily, his Sunberth accent making itself known.

“ Truly? Well at least you yourself have a prettier face now. Now it looks more like something that resembles a face rather than your posterior” Oh Kreig had to chuckle at the painful jab at his looks, even if it did hurt his mouth. He was never one to not acknowledge when his opponents had just handed his arse to him.

‘ Sera will kill me…. But petch my arse to the stars I’v me no regrets at all’

x

[Kreig Messer]

This time it was the Gray Fist who made the first move as he directrd a left low kick at Kreig's right shin. The brawler saw it coming but failed to see the follow up kick the followed as the Fist pulled his foot back after the initial stike and launched it forward into Kreig's chest. The Brawler was pushed back by the blow to the center of his chest but it did not deter him so as he grasped upon the offending leg and pulled it and its master forward and raised his fist a she moved forward to slam it into the fists face.


The Fist however performed a daring evasive manuever a she leaned back and let the charging brawlers arm pass. Not one to waste a populr opening the Fist quickly turned to face Kreig's back and directed his armored into the side just near the spinal cord.

Kreig howled in surprised pain like a wild animal, not expecting something like to happen. He struck back with his right elbow as he turned whils the Fist was about to throw another punch, catching him off gaurd as the elbow smashed into the side of his face knocking him to the all too familiar earth.

The Fist had admirable endurance and toleramce of lain however as he rolled to the side as to escape the Brawler, stood on his knees and stared at Kreig with what could be annoyance.

Kreig himself had nothing but that everlasting grin, though the corners of his mouth winced at the literal pain in his back. He debated whether he should wear his own gauntlets in response to the Fists but decided agains it.... It would be more sporting this way, not to mention his gauntlets were studded..... He didn't want to risk raising the chance of accidentally killing him ' Then who would I have to play with' .


The fist seemed to be waiting for him however as he did not rise from his position. Kreig's jnstincts told him there was something wrong, was he waiting for someone to bring the authorities? No, the Fist didn't seem to be the one to allow a fight to end that way....Then why? was he gathering his breath, Kreig knee he did a number on him.

The Fist however did not look as spent as Kreig was, though he did feel the same pain he did. The simple fact of the matter is that he could last longer than the savage Brawler before him. It had been only a couple of chimes since this battle began and the damage they did to each other could have ended a dozen fights tenfold. Why was he waiting? what was he plotting?

Kreig didn't have time to ponder this however, sooner or later the proper authorities, or the knights themselves since it was their Squire invovled, would come to put a stop to things and thus no clear victor. With that in mind Kreig approached, ready to strike the fist in the face with his knees and see the end of this fun little adventure.


Thats when it all happened, as soon as Keig was close enough the Fist rised up like a spring with the very same tray he had tossed at Kreig earlier, its flat bottom conncected with Kreig's chin with such savageness the the Brawler's brain was rattling inside his head.


Kreig, amazingly enough, did not fall immeduately as his distorted vision lower from the sky to look at the vague figure that was the Fist whom had resumed a combat stance. For a tense, increibly long, moment he thought the brawler was about to move....about to throw another punch or strike.

But then the liight in Kreig's eyes dimmed from the dreaming world as his once raised fists slumped and, much like a statue, dropped on his back.

' Such a good fight' Kreig thought prior to his loss of conciousness, amused by his own defeat yet quite satisfied nonetheless.


It was indeed a good little fight.
x

[Vice]

"I haven't enjoyed a fight so fierce since the last time the Rujaro started to cause a fuss."

Beaten and bruised, but not quite exhausted, the Gray Fist looked down at his fallen foe with a chuckle. A moment in passing before he pulled the fallen Freeborn off from the floor and threw him onto one of the nearby chairs. Time would pass and with it, the Gray Fist acquired a glass of rum, laughter present upon his features as a pair of mercenaries arrived.

"Should we take him?"

"No, he's fine. I'll deal with him when he wakes up."

The pair looked to one another in confusion before looking back to Alfred Lancaster. Walking off, they decided it was best to not question the tutor. Quickly growing impatient, the Fist nudged the Freeborn, several times before coming with an idea. He pressed two fingers to Kreig's solar plexus, hoping that the pressure and the resulting breathlessness would wake him up.

"Get up, you sod. I have words for you."

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig, during his time of unconciousness, was enjoying an excitijg dream. Unaware of how much of a silly little bugger he looked like as he rested upon the chair. It was quite a pleasant dream really..... he was running through a field of yukmen decked in his own personal armor, a sword in hand and a free fiss in the left. Left in right h had been cutting down the yukemn while also headbutting them, punching them in their guts and privates, shoving foots up their shykeholes and overall causing damage on a scale he knew to be impossible yet didn't quite give a damn as he was having so much fun.


Of course, in the waking world he was unaware that the Gray Fist, who in his impatience and perhaps own bit of mischief, had done something to stop his breathing. Of course, now the Brawler's face was turning blue and as he could no longer go without any air; awoke from his sream with a gasp as he lurched forward.


Kreig breathed deeply for a few seconds, his mind panicky at the thought of not having air. Then he realized something ' This doesn't feel like the ground ' He realized as he as he felt the chair beneath him, it was quite comfy really.... it made him sleepy actually as he entertained the thought for a moment ' Noooo, I'm missing the point here ' Kreig looked up to see the rather bruised face of the chap whom he had just engaged in perhaps one of the quickest and most satisfying brawls in his life.

Kreig noted the man seemed...non-malicious as he looked down the Brawler. Kreig for his part had this look of utter amusment, wondering if they were about to face another once again.


"Well, if you're my sunshine I'm afraid I've been cheated" He said jokingly as he rested himself back against the chair "So how can I help you Mr...?"
x

[Vice]

"Lancaster. Alfred Lancaster. Around these parts, many of the Freeborn also know me qas the Gray Fist. That was a really fun fight, friend. I'm afraid, however, you have much to learn in other regards."

A smirk caught Lacanster's features as he offered Kreig his hand to let him off from the couch. If Kreig accepted, he would pull him up and then quickly let go.

"Manners are everything in this city. If one asks another to introduce oneself, it's only proper to do the same first. However, a good fight always cuts out a terrible introduction. Anyway, you have a brand, so how about we get a drink and I can offer you a chance to do a job? I can use a good man like you."

Reputation and prestige meant as much as manners in this regard, and the Fist knew that. Whether or not the fighter knew it was unknown to him. This would give Lancaster his answer. The Fist motioned towards a nearby slave, who was tending to one of the several stalls that lined the edges of Lantern Square.

"We can talk it out over a full glass of rum."

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig nodded at the Gray Fist, acknowledging the fact he now knew his name rather than his reputation… Kreig gave little shyke to a man’s fighting reputation lest he backed it up ‘ Not that it stops me from testing whether its true or not’ He admitted to himself with a chuckle as he grabbed the fists extended hand and allowed himself to be helped up “Pleasure to meet you, dear gent. Name’s Kreig Messer” A name for a name and all that, proper manners and such.

“A job, eh?” Kreig repeated with an air of interest, though he tried to play it off as slight. He also found himself somewhat disagreeing with the Gray Fist over the manners part, at least when it comes to fighting. A civilized gent can be civilized when the situation demands, but a fighting man can be so as well but when his foe throws a tray at him wel…. He can be hardly blamed for acting uncivilized. Not that Kreig didn’t sort of incite the fight in the first place ‘ Not my fault I attract trouble….okay it sort of is’ He amended silently. His eyes perked up at the sound of rum, not that he quite fancied it, much preferring ale himself but it had been quite a while since he last had some alcohol coursing through his veins.

“I suppose a drink to alleviate the pain could be quite prudent after a well-fought bout” He nodded as he motioned for the Gray Fist to lead the way. It was then that he realized how fortunate he had been in fighting this gent, the man already seemed to be of well repute and the fact that he had a tittle amongst the citizenry enforced Kreig’s image of the man. In this establishment itself a number of Freeborn and perhaps Dynasts had seen his martial prowess, marking an impression upon them that could perhaps be used in his favour when it came time for him to do some jobs, the fact that the Gray Fist is offering him one as well as treating him as an equal of sorts would perhaps speak volumes of his worth to others. In Kreig’s mind this sounded a bit far-fetched but he knew even the smallest of reputational boosts could catch the eyes of important people.

‘The Families are like gangs after all, once you catch their eye some interesting shyke is bound to happen’ He grinned at that thought, though whether that ‘weird shyke’ is good for Syliras has yet to be seen…. But should still be interesting nonetheless….

x

[Vice]

"Yes, a job. There's something I've been wanting to get done, but I need one person. Just one. And there aren't any freelancers with enough mettle to step up and help me out with this. All of the good mercenaries tend to stay out of the swamps."

Lancaster had always enjoyed getting his hands dirty. It was why he reaped such a powerful reputation so quickly. He jumped from job to job, testing his mettle and emerging victorious. The Zith were the primary perpetuation of his status, for none knew how to challenge the Zith like he did. But, the swamps were just as important.

Making his way towards one of the many nearby stalls in Lantern Square, Lancaster returned the now dented tray to the slave and offered a silver miza,

"Replace that when you can, please. But, before that,"

The Freeborn reached into his pocket and produced from it ten gold mizas, placed it in the slave's hands and asked of her again,

"And two glasses of Maathias' Selection."

When the order was filled, the Gray Fist passed the glass of rum to his new ally, then allowed dark brown eyes to stare at Kreig as he asked,

"You heard of the Rujaro, Kreig? If not, it's fine, but I'd prefer to step over the introduction to those bastards if I can help it."