[Tall Johnny] Of Boredom, Red Balls and Mice

by **Kreig Messer** on July 28th, 2018, 8:55 am

73rd of Summer, 518 A.V. 6th Bell, 40th Chime.

“Alright, I’m bitin’… What the petch are ya up to?” Came the voice of Olav as he noted the sight before him. Kreig could only sigh, shirtless and bootless as he took over the pit early in the morning. His hands brought before him in a claw shape.

It was typical that things he’d wished others would not see or disturb him about would be, indeed, the things they’d see or disturb him about. It had been a day or two since he’d that day with Ren, where he tried to adapt some punches to a more… ‘beast-like’ use to help suit the Kelvic more. It was merely adapting a couple of punches though, and he imagined he could adapt his hook and uppercut as well but he’d also wanted to explore this avenue further.

“I must admit, those strikes are a bit unusual to me as well and I believe I’ve just about seen most types of fights here in the Pit”

‘Oh petchin’ wonderful, an’ the boss is ‘ere too’ Kreig thought grumpily. Tall Johnny was awake…and immaculate looking as he perpetually seemed. Though Kreig did wonder if he hiding at least some vestige of sleepiness beneath that proper appearance of his.

“Mornin’ Boss” Spoke up Olav, who’d been leaning against the metal fence that made up the ‘cage’.

“Mornin’ Johnny” Kreig echoed, trying to bury his annoyance as he bent the point of his fingers forward and took a step forward, thrust his ‘claws’ in a motion reminiscent of a spear towards what would be head level to someone of his height, his hand stationed in a horizontally manner rather than vertical. He then pulled the hand back, shifting his stance as his left arm was to the back, his right arm being raised as he then stepped forward to strike air with his elbow then extended his hand in a back handed strike emphasized with another step forward before pulling his fist back in a guard as his left arm still hung back.

Kreig felt alien with the stance he ended up in, the strikes he performed all focused on putting all his weight in them, powerful but it left him open for someone with the experience or the speed to take advantage if he couldn’t go back to his guard quickly enough. And the mention of the guard for that matter he had only one of his fists up rather than both as his preferred boxing style.

The stance itself was all an accident to be honest, but after his motions it felt the most natural.

Tall Johnny had his arms crossed as he watched one of his prize fighters throw about these strike, Olav himself was silent with interest, but one of them just had to know.

“So will you explain to us what brought about this… change in style? This is hardly the motions we usually expect” Tall Johnny spoke, looking at his attire as if a speck of dust landed on it before he dusted it off.

Kreig mentally hummed if he should have answered, even as he repeated the claw like motion this time starting with his right hand taking the claw like shape as he thrusted it forward like a spear, his aim now lower as if attempting to lodge at someone’s stomach before pulling his arm back and then following with a left elbow strike and extending his arm with a back handed strike.

“One o’ me friends had a bit of scuffle, so I thought I’d teach ‘em a bit, an’ they’re the sort that ain’t afraid of using their nails ta fight. An’ it sorta led me to this, tryin’ ta think of somethin’ that would work for them” And of course it was something that he was curious about looking at himself. The way Olav was looking at Kreig seemed to not the unspoken words.

“I see, and is that the only reason?”

Kreig paused, looking at Tall Johnny with a bit of confusion, not dropping his stance but paying attention none the less.

“Come now Kreig, are you telling me you aren’t bored?”

Word Count: 688

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by **Kreig Messer** on July 28th, 2018, 9:23 am

Kreig paused fully at that, his eyes glancing towards Tall Johnny.

“What do ya mean?”

Tall Johnny simply let out a minor breath, as if dealing with a troublesome student. At least troublesome in a social sense “I mean Kreig, that it hasn’t been impossible to notice that you’ve been feeling rather discontent with most of your recent bouts, and admittedly you are a hard person to find opponents for” He admitted.

“The Isur female joining in was simply Ovek showing favor, but she was simply a passerby as was the master swordswoman that came after, and getting her to fight was a test of faith in itself” The Gentelman paced about, moving to stand in front of Kreig albeit in a safe distance. The Brawler shifted aside and threw his left hand upward in an uppercut motion, fingers spread like claws slashing through the air, with a step forward he bent his elbow again and swung it down against an imaginary face. Following that up he swung his right hand in a horizontal motion akin to a hook but still in that ‘claw’ shape.

“Yer point being?”

“ The Boss is sayin’ that its hard to find good challenges fer pricks like yerself Kreig” Kreig turned to the direction of Olav’s voice and saw that that older man was tossing up a small red ball up and down lightly.

“ ‘S like those brawls we’ve been hearin’ that ya get yerself into ya been stupdily involvin’ yerself in” He remarked, still tossing that red ball up and down. Kreig spun to face him as he thrused his hand in that ‘claw’ jab of his, his fingers flying forward quickly. Clawing through air before going back to claw a second time, before suddenly thrusting forward again to strike with the palm.

“Now we know ya used to brawl even before the Boss ‘ere hired you, ‘s no secret an’ Merv at the Pig’s Foot said ya used to start fights quite a bit, an’ elsewhere too. Ya liked it a lot, so much so its yer childhood past time”

Kreig denied none of that as he stared Merv and that red ball of his “But ya see, Kreig. Like this red ball ‘ere, a small little kid will enjoy it a good while, even years, might be even right good at it. But the thing is, kids grow out of playin’ball eventually, it ain’t as much fun as it used ta be. An’ one o’ the reasons it ain’t fun no more is simple… “ Olav then tossed the red ball at Kreig, who smacked it away with the back of his hand as he glared at the older fighter.

“There isn’t any challenge anymore”

Word Count: 444

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by **Kreig Messer** on July 28th, 2018, 9:59 am

“So ya sayin’ I ain’t findin’ fights challengin’ no more?” Kreig asked, droppinghis stance as he looked to both Johnny and Olav, fists clenched and anger rising in him. He knew they were speaking truth, in fact he had such thoughts himself long before they decided to confront him about it. But why’d they have to bring it up now?

“Yes, in fact. But not quite all the same” Johnny began, looking at the back of his hand before looking back to Kreig. The tall bastard literally looking down him “It is simply the nature of things, a good card player would get bored of playing with novices pretty quickly. A good cook will want to create more than the drab-looking simple meals everyday, and a hunter will eventually seek bigger game”

He explained “It is only natural that those of skill would seek out greater challenges, and as their skills grow they soon will seek even greater challenges. What they seek is not only chance to improve further but stimulation. You’re no different Kreig” Johnny exclaimed with a wave of his hand as he paced back and forth.

“But therein lies the problem”

Kreig stayed silent, biting his tongue as he knew what was said was true.

“Few ever find such challenges in the end, you know? Those challenging sorts who reach the top of their craft soon find there is no one else at the peak who could satiate them. It can lead to a loss of passion, a decay of their skills” Kreig’s fist tightened at the words, nails digging into skin.

“Ultimately they seek alternatives, anything to satiate their boredom”

Kreig’s mind flashed to the lesson’s he’d been giving, the joy he felt about it… the fun and intrigue he felt, which led him to try and develop a style right now.

“As my business is entertainment Kreig, it is anathema to me that one of my fighters is unable to find challenge in his battles” The businessman in a tone that was sincere in its words “Leaving aside the fact that the clientele know your skills clearly, thus making the number of customers willing to bet against you quite few. And the odds given for most of your fights being in your favor rather than against, few would bet FOR you as well. A fight with no payout is not profitable, and a fight that doesn’t entertain is nothing but white noise”

The Gentleman stopped his pacing and looked to Kreig “Thus I am giving you an opportunity to request something of me Kreig, something that would not only benefit you but benefit myself and my patrons. An opportunity that I might add, you’ve had chances to” His head turned to Olav, who wordlessly got the message and wandered off.

Kreig’s eyes narrowed at Johnny.

“Yeah, and what is it that I ought to be requesting?”

Word Count: 481

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by **Kreig Messer** on July 28th, 2018, 3:29 pm

Tall Johnny smiled “Why, fights of course” He said jovially, hands extending grandiosely as if presenting Kreig with a revelation “The very fact of the matter is most fights here in our little arena are amateurs vying for glory, very few times in a season do we have fights that would reach the level of skill you possess because quite frankly very few exist in Sunberth with your level of physical prowess that would want to spend time entertaining a crowd.”

“Yeah? Such as who?”

“Such as the Sun’s Birth Dragoon’s very own weapon instructors” He used as an example casually, a wave of his hand and a shrug of his shoulder “Unless their Warmaster gives them permission too or announces one of them as his appointed representatives for the title of Champion, it’s very unlikely that you would face either one of them”

Kreig tsked at that; it wasn’t surprising really that such caliber of opponents would be in the Dragoon’s, their master would be no slouch undoubted as well. Kreig resumed a battle stance, his fingers formed into claws as he thrusted both fists forward in a jab, this time a double combination of scratches both on the outgoing and return strikes before stepping forward to thrust both hands forward in heavy palm strikes.

“For the gangs having high ranking members fight here only to lose would be a sign of weakness, or a prime opportunity for assassination. Either way it carries a degree of risk” Ah, politics, even in Sunbirth it shows its filthy hide.

“Other’s simply have a devotion to their crafts than spend time here, or have no interest in fighting at all, their skills simply a byproduct of the life they live” And Kreig grunted at that as he spun around and swung his arm wide in a claw, followed by the other as both arced in a diagonal motion, trying to gleam more and more. But realization set in that without a sparring partner or test subjects, discovering more would only be met by a wall.

“Right, well what I’m gleamin’ is that its jus’ a repeat of sayin’ its right hard to find good opponents for me Johnny” And Johnny nodded in admission of that.

“Merely hammering the point further Kreig, fact is our alternatives would to have you fight in events that are different from the norm. After all, it would be boring to simply have one on ones all the time, so we spice things up” He flourished his hands about.

“Team fights, a little war between one group of fighters against the other. Appointed leaders meant to inspire theirteammates and use their wits to achieve victory. Or a free for all, a brawl between skilled warriors” And Kreig nodded at those, both sounding interesting “ Or tag battles, teams of two or more switching out members mid battle and so one so forth, many types of fights could occure here Kreig”

He then spun about to face Kreig with a soft smirk “You could participate in many of these, gleam and learn from many of them and have not only fun for yourself but the adoring masses! Advantages for all involved”

He then stepped closed to Kreig, his neck tilting as he was close enough to look down into Kreig’s eyes while Kreig had to crane his neck in a bit of annoyance at having to look up “All you have to do is… ask”

He then raised a finger “But, and know this Kreig, if you desire simply a strong opponent, I will bring them to you. I make no promises, but I will find you strong fighters for you to fight one on one"

"But again, you must ask me."

Kreig stayed silent for a bit, pondering. Fact of the matter is, he was craving a fight. A good one, one on one or group fights didn't matter so long as he could satisfy his craving for fights. His mind flashed back to the wargames he participate in Syliras, meant to familiarize squires with fighting as a unit; those team fights sounded about similar.

But he did crave good ol' one on ones, fist to fist with only him and his opponent in the rings. They were all time classics and Kreig's craving leaned to that at the moment.

"Fine, Boss. I wanna strong fighter, someone I can be facin' on equal terms"

With a spread of his arms, Johnny stepped back and spoke "Very well then. Fortunately I have someone in mind, but don't you expect the fight to be soon. No, if who I have in mind accepts... This will be too grand to rush" And with that Johnny spun around and walked away, leaving the Kreig to ponder his own thoughts.

Word Count: 797
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by **Kreig Messer** on July 28th, 2018, 4:23 pm

Kreig stood there alone, kicking at the hard dirt floor of the pit. Saying yes only to be told his fight would have to wait a while. Considering how close they are to the ened of season, the brawler grumbled it might not even be in the early thirty days of it. And the fact he hadn’t told Kreig who had in mind just made Kreig damn curious as to whom his possible opponent might be

His eyes darted around and it fell upon the red ball that Olav had with him, left forgotten in the dirt. Kreig approached it and gave it a rough kick, sending the ball flying and striking the metal fence, bouncing off and rolling to the opposite as Kreig’s eyes followed it.

The whole situation just reminded him of how frustrated he felt with most of his fights nowawadays, all of what Olav and Johnny said striking true. The amateur fights here were boring, the proper opponents few and far between. He cared little for actually entertaining the crowds, though he sympathized slightly. It simply felt more difficult for him because if he wanted a good fight he might actually have to declare war on the gangs and he didn’t want that to be the basis of his conflicts with them!

‘Oh yeah, Only reason I’m messin’ with ‘em is cuz of boredom, who cares about tryin’ ta make a better place ta live? Pfft not me!” He thought sarcastically.

“Petchin’ shykin’ petchin’ arses” He mumbled, some devout of Yahal was he.

At that moment a black mouse came into view, approaching the kicked red ball and poking with its nose. Kreig paused at the site, wondering where the little thing came from as it pushed the ball… then promptly scurried after it with a squeak. Honestly Kreig felt his thoughts pretty much disrupted once he saw the unexpectedly adorable sight.

He wandered if this mouse’s entertainment in the ball was much like Olav’s comparison to a child playing with a ball. Would it eventually grow bored of it to seek something more entertaining? Did it seek a challenge? Would Mice actually seek challenges? Why was he pondering these things using a mouse as an example.

Kreig sighed as he resumed his stance, trying to push his thoughts back to his head as he tried to experiment more with these ‘claw’ strikes. Half a bell seemed to pass as he did so, experimenting various strikes and combos, trying to get a feel of it all and how best to implement.

But ultimately it felt like he hit a wall, all of them feeling very…. Theoretical unless he had someone to apply these strikes and letting battle hammer out the kinks.

He closed his eyes and breathed, dropping down his stance as he tried to keep a lid on his frustration… when a sound rung right next to his ear.

“Squeak”

Word Count: 485

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by **Kreig Messer** on July 28th, 2018, 4:44 pm

“Um… what?” Kreig paused, eyes blinking as his his lips flattened. He didn’t know mice could be so loud…or sound so close.

“Squeak” Now that he thought about it, there seemed to be a weight on his shoulder, a very light one. Slowly he turned his head, almost mechanically as his eyes rolled to glance to his right. And there he saw, with his own wide eyes, looking back at him the small black eyes of the very same black little mouse that was playing with the ball not too long ago.

“Squeak” Kreig froze, not knowing what to do was the small creature scurried onto his face now, an unpleasant odor assaulting his nostrils as it climbed up onto his head and decided to nest, would that nest be the word? Nest on his head.

Kreig felt very awkward at the moment due to the fact there was such a small creature on his head. Did this mean he had a way with animals? This would certainly explain the frequency of him ancountering so many Kelvics in his life, to the point that it felt supernatural.

It was kind of heartwarming that it found him safe enough to rest on his head, honestly it was kind of stress relieving.

All that went out of the window when Kreig felt something warm trickle down his head with a very unlikeable scent. Kreig’s eye twitched before he simply jumped in outrage, his hands batting at his own head as he tried to shove off the mouse.

The mouse sensing danger climbed down Kreig’s head and scurried on Kreig’s back, to his waist and then down on to his pants leg. All the while Kreig was jumping about, hands slapping on parts of his body trying to get to the small menace before it lept off.

The mouse paused a short distance away from Kreig, who still trying to dislodge a mouse who was no longer on him. Letting out a barely audible squeak at the sight, Kreig paused as his eyes fell upon the small creature.

It was a smoldering gaze, one given to one’s worse enemies should they be slighted enough. And that mouse, that small, black, menace, was Kreig’s arch nemesis at that moment. After the tense bell he’d just experienced that led him only to frustration, that small creature of nature that had decided to urinate on him had been the final petching straw.

It must die.

Word Count: 409

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by **Kreig Messer** on July 29th, 2018, 6:38 am

Kreig lept forward at the creature, arms outstretched to try and catch the beady eyed little creature in his hands. But the small thing was much too nimble for Kreig as it scurried right and away, causing Kreig to crash into the hard dirt and eating a face full of it.

“Squeak”

Kreig snarled as he enxtende his left arm to try and catch it bt it was out of his reach, shifting his body as he brought his left hand to follow as he crawled forward, the mice letting out another squeak as Kreig got to his legs and began a rabid chase for the rude rodent.

The small creature was leading him around merrily, and Kreig never really having to chase people much found himself hardly keeping up with the creature, only closing distance when it decided to turn directions. Either it was stupid in plotting out its escape route or it was playing with him, and Kreig felt it was more the latter as the creature was beyond small enough to slip between gaps of the fence should it want to.

Briefly he wondered if it was actually a Kelvic, but Kreig shook that thought away because he refused to believe his luck of frequently running into the species. There must be a quota of some sort and he had filled it!

Just like his quota of meeting people taller than him except that never really stopped filling Yahal curse it!

The brawler attempted to leap again, bending his knees and then springing forward like a cat that had just discovered that it could indeed leap but only to discover that it had done so poorly. The mouse stopped as Kreig flew past and again met the dirt face first, his form meeting dirt again.

Kreig could only groan, he was being outsmarted by a mouse.

“Squeak”

And it was mocking him!

Kreig flipped onto his back as he glared at the petulant black rodent, eyes narrowing and meeting his opposite’s beady eyed one. Kreig scrambled to get up and resumed chase, the mouse darting off before Kreig could get close and so the game resumed.

Right until Kreig’s foot stepped upon a red ball that had been in his path.

“Oh you petchin-“ His curse cut short as Kreig’s balance was lost completely as his foot slid forward and he found himself landing on his back, his dirt caked face holding a grimace as he let out a whimper of pain. His last glimpse of the mouse having been it sliding through the gaps of the fence as the victor while Kreig lay there defeated.

It couldn’t get any worse.

“So, what’ll ya give me not ta tell anyone ya lost to a mouse?” Olav’s voice rang out, and Kreig realized that today would not only end with him having a bruised dignity… but also several gold Miza’s short as he bribed Olav to keep quiet.

Gods damn it all

Word count: 494
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by **Kreig Messer** on July 30th, 2018, 10:47 am

Grade :

Notes :

Credit goes to Trickster for this lovely Template

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Skill	XP Earned
Unarmed Combat	2 XP
Acrobatics	1 XP
Socialization	2 XP

Solo [Tall Johnny] Of Boredom, Red Balls and Mice