Closed When Crowe's Descend Upon You [Kenneric]

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

13th of Spring 514AV As the darkness of Sunberth descent, when the scum of the city intensified and the very infested entrails of the congested dark deed his lovely city was known came alive as the gathering of soil when a Yukman awoke, Seng walked through the city towards home after visiting Tall Johnny's, damnned casino always had a fight worth remembering he thought darkly as he rubbed his side. It wasn't even a few days ago that he was in a brawl at the pits and now his hunger for a fight led him straight to Tall Johnny's, until he received some mercenary work in the city than he'd get some coin through a random brawl or a body that laying on the city streets just ripe for the looting. "Damnit, I'm turning into the old man" he spat as he referred to one of the oldest bastards he knew, Garret. In truth Zeltivan wasn't that old but he was the oldest amongst his associates, but Seng remembered that this was Sunberth and that a body held more than just mass, not so long ago during the winter did getting some loot from a bunch of thugs get them something with worth. A groan from being a bit uncomfortable caused the Vilhjalmr to pause, he held his side once again and caressed it to see if anything was broken, no, it was just tender and quite raw from repeated fists to the side, he caused once again and decided to shrug it off, pretending that the pain wasn't there would just make it go away, right? As his footsteps quickly stalked behind him Senghor kept telling himself that a stiff drink from the Pig's Foot would numb him for hours with a problem, as long as he drank in moderation he kept reminding himself, he always had to remember himself lest he wanted to return to so many years ago, to being the foolish boy that nearly drank himself into the Void. A sigh fell flat from his lips as he walked through the city, the air soon because a albeit heavy, muffled and cold. The dark skinned Brawler told himself that it was the air of another murder in Sunberth, it was the air that hang every chime amongst the civilians there, they all knew it so well... "I'll just go down that alley and I'll have my painkiller in no time" he said darkly as he deep voice rang from his lips, the lean warrior shifted his position and disappeared into the bosom of a lone alley, it warm hold grim and welcoming...

[Kenneric Crowe]

Kenneric’s head swung back violently with the expertly aimed punch. He sprawled onto the uneven dirt and grime of the Sunberthian alleyway. Arms swinging wildly, the thin man grasped desperately at the cheap brick of the nearby wall, but to no avail. The grimy leather of the sole of a boot descended rapidly upon him and Ken was just able to slide his arm between the limb and his abdomen to protect himself. He curled around the impact, groaning.

A vain attempt to concentrate his djed for a void was met with a fist to the temple. His mind was reeling. Crowe was trying to right himself when one of the assailants stepped up to him, ready to kick him down again. Kenneric seized the opportunity in a way he would never have done before Zeltiva. He whipped his hand out and clenched the soft crotch of the man, twisting violently. The man howled and hunched over, desperate to relieve the pain.

“Help!” Kenneric pleaded to the city. The shadows around him whispered excitedly. They adored activity in their alleyway. Anything to bring excitement to their dark lives. Kenneric gave the man’s balls a final, vicious squeeze and rolled way from him. He stumbled to his feet and began to run down the alley away from the group.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

It didn't take long for the piercing shout to reverberate through the shadows in which engulfed the young brawler, his eyes adjusted to the darkness as he heard through the heavy breathing and multitude of footsteps that came ahead. Senghor paused and saw a very lean figure come at him, "Nov?..." he murmured beneath his breath as he observed the figure, blood hair, lithe and obviously quite quick with the feet, if Seng wasn't so aware because of the stabbing pain by his side he would have thought it was none other than Eleazar, but the blonde hair otherwise. As the young man came towards Seng the lean warrior stepped to the side and inclined his head towards, 'Guess he doesn't want help' he thought darkly whilst turning back towards the alley, another collision yet this one was a shove that pushed Seng into the wall whilst another jab of pain shot through his side. "Petching Dog!" the man grunted angrily as he recoiled off the wall and balanced himself, the first man came and went past, Seng saw another body slide by and passed beside him, the second came and went past. A man hobbled down the alley with his hands on his balls and whilst he came down he was spitting venomous words angrily the figure that went through. Senghor was already angry, one of those bastards pushed him aside and brought pain onto him and to him that meant all of them brought pain to him. He buckled up and as the man limped down the alley Senghor brought his arm around his neck with a close line, he felt as pain shot up his arm but an equal and opposite reaction came down the thug's neck, he coughed out, dazed and confused. Viciously Seng's other hand came down the side of the man's face and shoved the goon down by using his leg to hook the man's leg and push him down. A sharp kick to the side of the man was all the revenge he coughed dish out onto the first assailant. Sengh turned around and jogged down the alley he looked down the street to see two figures still at it. Angrily the Vilhjalmr gave chase, he wanted those bastards to pay though sadly the stab of pain at his side was more of a hindrance than motivation...

[Kenneric Crowe]

He glanced behind himself and saw only two where once there were three. Had the stranger stopped the third? Or had his blow to the genitals done him in? Either way, Kenneric was happy the thug was gone. Two to one was still long odds for him. Ken was, to say the least, without experience in combat. But he wasn’t without his own abilities.

Kenneric took a knee, letting the small stones of the street bite into his kneecap. He held gaze transfixed onto the ground in front of him as his enemies approached. Hopeful the man who had dispatched the other would come to his rescue. Rescue was not, however, something he ever depended on.

He concentrated his djed, pinpointing the focus on the ground in front of him. The men were closing the distance fast. Kenneric poured his djed into the point on the ground, clearing his mind of all else in a practiced way. Voiding used to be harder, but now since simple voids were becoming easier by the week.

The inky blackness only the void could provide opened up in that mundane Sunberthian street. It always brought an eerie fear to Kenneric’s heart. Such darkness had, since he was a young boy, meant company for him. The shadows were always talking, mostly nonsense or riddles, but they would speak if spoken to. This was a total lack of anything. It was… unnerving.

He managed to create a plate sized portal on the ground in front of him before the front man was able to kick him in the face. The kick broke the skin of his cheek and sent him sprawling once more. A scream broke the air and Kenneric looked back to see the assailant sprawled across the street as well, his foot gone.

The bloody stump shot black blood across the tan and brown dirt, staining it crimson. The sharp tang of iron filled the air. Kenneric quickly moved so as not to get blood on his fine clothes. He stood and glanced back up the street to see what was going on. His head was spinning and sharp bursts of pain ceaselessly ravaged his face where he was kicked. The man gingerly touched the gash.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Senghor turned out the alley and inclined his head to the sides a few times, he observed both ways to see where the three figures had disappeared too. It didn't take long for the sounds of howling, swears and screams to fill the night. Senghor turned to the side of the screams and bolted for it, his hand at his side whilst his footsteps touched the sacred earth of Sunberth with each breath that escaped him. Running, ever since he was a kid it always seemed as if though he was running too or from something, yet mostly it was into a fray worthy of having. As his eyes captured the scene ahead, all time seemed to play in such a manner that it eased its unending flow. One of the thugs was on the ground his eyes wide as he looked at his foot whilst his partner stood there, still as a plank. Seng heard the cries of pain from the dismembered thug whilst, he kept spitting out nonsense about magic in Sunberth. Magic in Sunberth, than it meant that the blonde wouldn't last another chime in the city if he kept flashing his arms around exposing himself. As the downed man's partner in crime tried to come to his senses he kept moving side to side, only but inches and kicking up the dirt whilst his looked in horror as his mutilated friend. It was than that a sharp pain shot up his spine like crackling spit of lightning onto an unshifting rod. As if dark looming clouds gathered over the confused man it didn't take long for the tall lean figure of the enraged warrior to appear behind him, all time returned in one graceful motion... Senghor ran up onto the thug and connected his knee onto the lower part of the man's spinal cord, converging all the kinetic energy he'd gathered from his little run into his right knee. A crack, howl and heavy thud filled the now morbid air as Senghor landed on his feet, a sting of pain rapidly shooting up his side when he balanced himself. "Shyke..." he spat below his breath as looked down at the thug now scrambling to his feet, "Get up, and I'll bash your little skull into your friends so hard you'll both be sharing a brain" the Vilhjalmr threatened, he watched as the thug pause momentarily before moving again. A wave of rage overcame Senghor as he walked behind the man and grabbed his leg, the figure kicked the dark skinned warrior with an aggression that would have made even Seng proud. As the man retaliated, Seng bent the man's leg forward in such a manner that his toes touched the back of skull, 'Shut up Damnit!' Senghor thought as his boot fell down onto the back of the man's skull to lull him, as he began dragging him backwards for a moment he turned towards the blonde man and back to his 'job' until he loomed over both figures, one of whom had inflicted more on the pain on Seng when he ran into him. With a shift motion his hands grasped the man's frame of the man's head. The man beneath him bucked and tried to move away from what was to came but the Brawler in Senghor was back and with quick thinking the nearest thing on the ground (a rock) became the instrument of a cheap shot to the back of man's skull to lull him down. At first he applied enough force into his shove that when both foreheads of the mean met, a audible crackle was heard. "Why..." Thud- "Don't..." Thud- "You..." Thud- "Listen!" Thud-Thud, the angered actions of Senghor spoke on his behalf as he brutally slammed the heads of the two man together, he'd split open their foreheads and blood painted their faces with a certain artistry only psychopaths understood. The frame of the savage human fell beside the unconscious figures of the two thugs, the rush of blood pumping into his heart at that moment was euphoric, it was a beautiful ecstasy that heightened his senses and made him feel invincible but when it stopped the flood of emotions and fatigue were too overwhelming. With a growl of pain Seng stood up and closed his eyes, than he remembered that he wasn't alone at that moment. With a sharp open of his eyes he turned towards the blonde and his features turned sour. "What's your name?" he asked darkly, his deep voice seeping into the deepest depths of the soil whilst he waited for the figure to answer. "Take whatever you can from these guys and dispose of the bodies... Meet me at the Pig's Foot when you're done" Senghor merely said as he turned and his tired self 'walked' towards his initial destination, the Pig's Foot. At that point Seng didn't care what man's next actions would be, whether he disposed of the bodies or not, he didn't care because what he did care for at that moment was a nice stiff one to numb all this bullshit...

[Kenneric Crowe]

Kenneric was left standing over the bloodied forms of his attackers with no knowledge of his savior. He had been so shocked by the casual violence that he was not able to say anything when the man asked him for his name. His fate, a thing doomed only a few minutes ago, hd been saved by the muscled figure that now limped away to some tavern…

Why had the man saved him? Kenneric was under the distinct impression such feats of nobility and selflessness were extinct in the grim backwater of Sunberth. Then he had left without a demand for recompense? Highly irregular in the city. Kenneric felt his curiosity flaring up. That more than any gratitude he might have felt was his motivation for following the man’s instructions. Kenneric had a weak spot for puzzles, and this midnight fighter was a puzzle.

The youth stood and coughed. He glanced up and down the street. No one, surprisingly. The lanky scholar grabbed the nearest of the two sprawling forms by the muddy ankles. Kenneric strained to drag him against the darker wall of the alley. That would at least keep his body hidden until daylight. He repeated the grisly process with the second body, not enjoying the way a corpse dragged in the dirt and mud. But he should only be grateful it was not his body being dragged.

He had, of course, heard of the Pig’s Foot. It was one of the most frequented establishments in Sunberth. Kenneric set his feet in that direction, his legs still weak from the combat and chase for his own life. As night’s descent nestled across Sunberth he felt more at easy. The random thug and hooligan out tonight would have more trouble seeing him than he did they, so long as he kept to the deeper shadows. They whispered as he passed, but nothing worth listening to, shadows were always trying to entice him into giving up his secrets, no matter what size.

He was more comfortable when the tavern came into sight, the light from it’s windows spilling out onto the street. Silhouettes of figures cross the light as people came and went from the tavern. Kenneric hoped his savior was inside and he could finally get some answers. As he approached the Pig’s Foot, Kenneric did his best to appear nonchalant and relaxed. It was best to look as if one belonged there, he found, when dealing with rough men. To make a lie strong, play it better than the truth. Lowych always said it.

He entered and found the place mostly uninhabited, except for a few dangerous looking men scattered about and one sad, worn looking minstrel plucking away at an instrument. Everyone glanced his way when he entered, and he searched their eyes. Kenneric was sure to frown, carefully dropping his face into a sullen stoicalness. He didn’t want them getting too curious, and a man who was here to drink away his sorrows is not an object of curiosity. Well, not amongst these fellows.

He spotted his savior sitting at a table. The man looked rougher than most, meaner than most too. Kenneric hoped this was a good idea. He made his way over. Without asked permission, Kenneric sat down opposite the man and leant over, palms on the table.

“Why did you save my life?”

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Senghor sat in the bosom of the tavern with an aching side and a dry throat, the fight he just had had left him quite parched and aching more than he should have already. It was a terrible idea to even enter that fray to begin with. 'This city will be the death of me...' he whispered to himself with a bit of chuckle as his thought drifted back toward the night's events - yet he found himself cut short. His eyes cast toward the door as it creaked open and the small figure of a boy walked in - no wonder he'd thought that was Eleazar - as he shifted toward to hostess which had take his order, even though she it well. Some of the figures in the tavern began to jeer at the sight of the smaller man, easy pickings if they found him around the city any other day. He walked him weaver toward him under the stares of the other patrons at the bar just to ask him the silliest of questions. 'Where's the loot?' he asked him. 'We'll split it fifty-fifty from hear, any coins that they had, we use to pay for the meal and drinks.' A pregnant silence hug before them momentarily as he looked at the pale skinned, fair head young man. His soft features and his small frame. He looked slightly like Eridanus with the hair and features. Seng turned his gaze toward the patrons of the tavern and watched as they stole glances at him and his friend across him; if only they knew how beaten up and tired their shells were than they'd try just like they wanted to take their swing at the two. 'Can you see how they're looking at you. They want to tear you apart. Any other day I would have joined them if someone as small and ripe came into the Pig's Foot and just sat down at my seat. But - that's the thing isn't it, I'm not like these goons here. I've always favored the underdog in a fight, and you my friend are just that, an underdog.' Seng spoke with a low tone which he made sure only he and his friend could hear. 'I didn't save you, your attackers just happened to come down the wrong alley at the wrong time. And you just happened to come down the right alley at the right time.' Senghor said to him as he watched a mug of ale plopped down onto the table. He turned to tell the waitress to go get another for his friend and she snaked her way back to the kitchen with a smile, he smirked at the sight of backside leaving than turned back to his friend. 'Name's Senghor by the way. But everyone calls me Seng. What's your name?'

[Kenneric Crowe]

"Crowe. You can call me Crowe, if it pleases." The harsh words of the lean fighter across from him unsettled him. The easy way he spoke of attacking Kenneric went against his first impression of the man. Was he really just another thug who happened to dislike those ambushers more than their victim?

The dark man inquired after the ‘loot’ expectantly. Kenneric froze, he had forgotten to rob the dead men. He wondered if this man would be mad enough to kill him over it? Kenneric paused for only a moment before erring on the side of caution. He rummaged in his purse and pulled out a few silver coins, letting them drop onto the tabletop.

He took a swig from the tankard in front of him, a battered clump of brass wet with cold beer. It set his nerves a bit. “That’s, eh, all they had.” The native of Sunberth seemed to have been waiting for that. He began to talk after he saw the money, explaining how Kenneric was just lucky to have walked down the right alley.

Crowe’s curiosity, a virtue that had gotten him into so much trouble in the past, almost got the better of him. He was about to ask why he had walked down the right alley and those men had stepped down the wrong, but he felt it was not conducive to his health to inquire further.

“Well, I’m glad you were there, Seng. If you ever need a hand…with things, I’m your man.” The words were awkward. Kenneric knew he had talents, abilities of use even to this man. He did not, however, trust the stranger enough to elaborate yet. He hoped the gesture would serve as just that, a gesture.

He took another, longer swig and glanced about the dark room. The minstrel played a sad, lonely song that seemed to narrate the somber thoughts had by every member of this particular patronage. Kenneric found it all a bit of a rush. Sunberth was indeed a far cry from Zeltiva in regard to the interestingness of the citizens. He hoped his particular skills would be more useful here. Dark places bred dark and dangerous people, and secrets.

Kenneric turned back to Seng, wondering what would come next.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

The nervousness of the fair haired Crowe reminded Seng far too much of Eleazar, how his eyes wondered at every thought that crossed him, it was as if though he was new to the pungent stench of death that hung omnipresently over Sunberth even on the loftiest of days. A brow quirked upward when Crowe took out his purse and the sliver coins danced on the table. "Fucking idiot. He forgot to loot those bastards." Seng thought to himself as he drank his beer calmly. Senghor wondered at how long Crowe was had been in Sunberth - days? seasons? - his guess was as easily lengthy as how far he could throw Eleazar. And he could throw Eleazar quite far. As the beer ran down his throat; very sweetness easing the pain that plagued him. He also saw that Crowe wouldn't last another day in that gods forsaken place they called Sunberth, regardless of how fast his feet could carry him, and Senghor knew that he wouldn't meet another person like himself in the city, he might be lucky enough to meet Noven but that was about it. As he took the last essence from the beer his ears rose when Crowe told him that he was a men he was looking for... Though he wasn't sure what skills the man across the table had, Seng knew that he, Noven and Eleazar needed more people on their side - on the Broken Shackles' side - especially after their short fallout, but they shrugged it off and moved on, looking for more people like Crowe. 'Actually I can do you one better Crowe...' he said as he placed his mug down and looked at the fair-haired man with an smirk. It's ambiguity was entirely up to anyone's perspective. 'My friends and I. We run something akin to a club - no a brotherhood, to put it kindly - and we need men like you. Men willing to trust in others under the same banner to survive another day in this killer infested city of ours. To put it bluntly, we're doing this to keep living another day in Sunberth without the worry of knowing that there's a dagger in our backs because we already shoved ours in the backs of those who hurt our brethren.' Seng wasn't a political man, though when it required his knowledge of conversation he seemed to muster the words as best he could to get his point across. He merely wondered if the words were what Crowe wanted to hear. 'By the look of you I'm sure you want to continue living another day, another day to also try and get rich and trust me, we are looking to rich as a reward for protecting one another.' he said as he leaned forward out his seat to clasp his hands together. 'I won't sugar-coat it Crowe. Sunberth - the world - is a shitty place and only the strong survive. And survival is determined by who you ally yourself with... I'm not saying join us, but I wouldn't mind you giving it a thought.' Seng finally concluded as he leaned back to allow the Pig's Foot resident waitress to place another tankard of beer on their table. He took a drink from it, awaiting Crowe's final verdict on the proposal...