A Fighter For a Fix (Kreig)

[Bronwen]

The knock that came from the room door jolted Bronwen awake, then remained there, syncing to the pounding between her ears. Slowly, the Syliran surfaced with a deep groan. Lungs burning from the smoke the night before, Bron coughed, tugging at the arm that lay across her torso. It didn't budge. Cracking open an eye, she turned her aching head toward the owner of the limb, Lyla, a worker there at Brega's. Bron poked a finger into her ribs, and when that didn't rouse the woman, she pushed her unceremoniously off the bed with "You need to go." croaked out between gritted teeth.

Bron sat up slowly, blinking through the haze of lingering dust that stalked the strip of sunlight coming in through the one broken window of the room. Looking down, she frowned at the young man who lay on the opposite side of the small bed then attempted to shove him onto the floor too. He proved heavier than Lyla and Bron only managed a slight nudge to his shoulder. "You too."

As her two guests began to stir and eventually dress themselves, Bron scooted off the bed, pulling a long tunic over her head, leaving long slender legs bare from midthigh down. Once her head popped free of the garment, Bron glanced around the room, grimacing at the mess of it. Pulling a thin blanket from the bed, she flung it over a bedside table where questionable paraphernalia lay strewn about its surface, before crossing the room to the door where she paused briefly while the room tipped dangerously.

With a glance back over her shoulder, ensuring the two others in the room were adequately attired, Bron pulled open the door. A man stood on the other side, taller than Bronwen, with dark hair that was pulled tight to the base of his neck in a long, sleek tail that fell past his shoulder blades, piercing blue eyes cold and calculating. A man Bronwen Druva knew all too well well. Bron swallowed the lump of fear that had just lodged itself in her throat "Michale." she said hesitantly, a lazy attempt at a smile playing on her lips.

Stepping aside, she let Lyla and her companion step through the doorway, loose clothing too troublesome to don draped haphazardly across their arms. Bron cleared her throat. "So, how'd you find me?" Bron made no motion for the man to come inside, but he stepped through the door anyway. "I have my ways" Michale said, not turning to face her as his blue gaze roved the room, his voice deep and slightly accented. Bron cringed, pulling away from the door but leaving it ajar. "I don't have the coin.."

"Of course you don't" the man interrupted, turning to face Bron, his black cloak billowing out behind him like it had caught a gust of wind. The girl took an involuntary step back. "Then, what.." she began, but again Michale cut her off.

"Oh, I come for payment," he said, then smiled devilishly, "but your debt is far too overdue to be satisfied by mere coin now, my dear." Grabbing a pair of dirty britches from the floor he threw them at her chest. "Get dressed, someone wants a word with you."

Bronwen stared down at the pants then back up at Michale. "Who?" she managed, her voice quaking as near as bad as her body now. "You are in no position for questions." he said, nodding to the heap of material in her arms. "Time is coin, and I do believe you are fresh out of coin. Get dressed! Now!"

Bron swallowed visibly, straightening out the pants and pulling them on, Michale never averting his gaze. Once dressed, she slid her shoes on and was nodded to take the lead out of the door and stepped directly between two huge brutes, that closed in from either side of the doorframe, one stepping so close that Bron knew no one would see him holding her elbow in a vice-like grip. They led her through the hallway, down a set of stairs, and out of the back door of Brega's, Michale trailing close behind.

It didn't take long for Bronwen to figure out where, or instead to whom, they were taking her. She stopped dead in her tracks outside a tiny structure. "No! No, wait!" Bron began to struggle, attempting to pull away but a hard punch to a kidney ceased any further efforts of escape. Stumbling, the two men pulled the now groaning Bronwen through the entrance. The door made an ominous and final sounding click behind her as Michale pushed it closed.

[Regime]

The establishment Bronwen found herself within remained considered by most who entered it to be remarkably unremarkable. The floors were clean, though heavily scuffed from years of foot traffic. The walls were well maintained, though covered in sturdy shelves coated in dust. There was nothing of note within the building, save for a single high shop counter located four feet from the door with the buildings shop keeper seated right behind it.

The Shop Keeper's eyes never diverted from Bronwen once she entered. His disheveled hair looking like that of a dark cloud in the sky that took on the abstract form of intertwined tails as if a sunberthan Rat-king. His nose scrunched up in a mixed expression of glee and contempt, pulling the left side of his lip up into a smile. Although, the scars running across his face hid the intent behind that smile.

The counter top rose high enough to stop at his mid belly, but it did nothing to hide the corpulent belly protruding under his dark shirt. A dirty finger lifted to flick away a strand of lint that sullied the only patch that decorated the shirt, a patch that read in bold letters 'ZEKE'. Weather that was his real name or not, no one really knew. And to be honest, Sunberth hardly cared to know so long as Zeke continued to be the best damn Fence in the city.

"Yeah, whaddaya lookin' fer?"

Zeke spoke with a voice poisoned with sarcasm. He didn't need to tell her why she was brought here. The Fence could practically see the previous drug hazed night that fogging her eyes. "Because, ya know. I'm lookin' fer a reason to keep someone who stole from me alive... an'ta be honest. I can't seems ta find more than one. " Zeke said as he held up one index finger that looked like he'd been rubbing his hands in grease for years with the amount of black under his fingernails.

"Reasons bein', a dead person can only be so useful."

Zeke lowered the hand to cross his arms as his grin vanished. "Yer going to do a job fer me. There is a meat puncher workin fer Tall Johnny named Kreig Messer; sometimes goes by the title Son of Sunberth."

"He was suppose ta'fight Ole'Jeb a while back, but fight never happened causing Jeb to win by default. Money wasted, bets left...er... regretted. And lets just say, some of those people have things. And I want those things. So if this is what they need for me to get what I want. Then yer going to make sure this Son of a Sunberth petcher loses his next fight.

Zeke's hand dipped below the counter to retrieve something, then set an item down on the counter. "Bed'em, knock'em out, keep'em busy, drug'em. I don't care... just get it done. Just, Don't kill em though." Zeke chuckled to himself as if she could even attempt that feat. He'd seen the brawler in the ring before."Ya don't need Johnny on yer ass.. Afterward, Ya'can consider yer debt to me paid. Now leave."

He emphasized that she would be blamed if anything happened to Johnny's fighter. And Zeke would no doubt make damn sure that he was blameless. Once The Fence stated what he wanted, Zeke's body language shifted to agitation. It was clear that he did not want to hear any of her attempts to talk her way out of the situation. Although, she could try if she wanted too. He just sat there waiting for her to get out of his shop.

[Bronwen]

Bronwen could do nothing but stare at the rotund man, mouth agape, unbelieving of what she had just been told to do, pain forgotten. Eyes scanning the room as if to find someone lurking in the shadows that might rush to her aid, the pregnant silence ensued. A hundred questions formed and rebounded around in her head, but none found their way to her tongue. After a time, Bron's mouth opened to finally give voice to one, but she had waited too long, and Michale was ushering her out the door.

Blinking in the sudden sunlight, Bron felt herself being prest up against the building, a jagged piece of wood poking uncomfortably into the small of her back. Looking up, Michale loomed over her, grinning sardonically down at her. "Why me?" Bron asked.

The man shrugged, "You owe a debt to Zeke. Zeke has a job that needs doing."

Bron shook her head, "There's a city full of people who are more skilled than..."

"None foolish enough to indebt themselves to The Fence," he butted in, then added "Besides, you are way more expendable than...others."

"Meaning if I die fighting this man, this Kreig, it won't matter. He's a pit fighter for Sylir's sake!" Spat Bron, sneering up at the man.

Michale gave a 'you said it, I didn't' shrug. "All that matters is that you get it done. I was given orders to break a few of your bones today; instead, you've been asked to do this." he grinned "Consider it mercy. Besides, no one said you had to fight him. Petch him, blow him, drug him. Your choice. Just don't let him fight tonight."

"Tonight?!?" Bron's shoulders rose and fell in a despondent sigh, "And if I cant?" Michale shifted his weight, leveling his gaze to meet Bronwen's "Failure is not an option when The Fence is involved." Bron glared at the tall man a long while before speaking again, her tone resolved. "What does he look like and where do I find him?" Michale gave a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment of Bron's acquiescence. "A few inches shorter than you, light brown hair, a bit of chin scruff, a fighter's build. He fights tonight so he'll be making a call to Tall Johnny's to train soon, no doubt. Look.." Michale frowned in what looked to be a pity, his hand falling to his pant's pocket and pulling out a small bit of burlap tied with a thin piece of leather. He pressed it into Bron's palm. "Here's some dust, save it for when you act. It'll give you a bit of an edge."

Bron glanced down at her hand, finger's rolling the small container over. "Okay" she sighed. One of her earlier escorts stepped up, handing Bron her quarterstaff. She stared at it a tick before snatching it from his grasp, then stomped away without another word.

"That wasn't gold dust, was it?" The man asked Michale once Bronwen was out of earshot. "No," Michale replied, glancing at the man, " white ash." He shrugged, smirking in the direction Bron had headed. "We all have money to make, and my money will be on Kreig Messer tonight."

[Kreig Messer]

It was another day for Kreig, of course on this day he had a fight lined up and for the time being he had the fight pit to himself. He didn’t know much about his opponent, largely by choice since he found not knowing enough about who he was fighting gave it… a bit more excitement than when he did know. If anything however hedid know the fellow wielding a large sword, just how large he had yet to know but he was willing to imagine that ‘large’ maybe a bit of an understatement. Of course it was always possible it was an overstatement, but Kreig didn’t let that bother him. In these one on one bouts Tall Johnny where Kreig was the main feature he wanted the Brawler to face foes of equal measure, otherwise there was no entertainment in it and the sense of chance just wasn’t quite there…. Still, it was still bells away of yet for him to fight and he’d just be wasting his own time training this early ‘I need to walk’ came the thought, and honestly he didn’t think it was a bad one. Plenty of time left and a walk would do to clear his head right up and get rid of the anxiousness he was feeling. Dressed in his dark grey shirt shirt, brown pants and tossing on his wide brim hat, he looked over to Olav “Gonna take a step out, be back ‘fore the fight, ya?” Olave, the large balding semi-retired fighter looked at Kreig and simply nodded “Fine, but if yer ain’t around to fight like last time then it ain’t gonna be me Tall Johnny’s gonna have a coin toss at” “For the sake of… I was petchin’ sick, ya try fightin’ illness ‘fore a fight” Olav simply shrugged uncaringly “Tell that to the gamblers, ya know as I do just how many folks blew their canaries cuz ya lost by petchin’ default….disgraceful is what it was” Kreig simply grumbled “Whatever, they can kiss my petchin’ arse, I’m jus’ walkin’ around the street, won’t even be far” And with that he stomped away, dipping his hands into his pockets. Losing by default was indeed a dumb shyke of a thing, but again it ain’t like he had a choice….. he was petchin’ sick and that’s all there was to it. He went pass the main hall, the eyes of Tall Johnny himself on his back before diverting himself to engage with the guests, the sounds of games and wagers shouted out filling the den of vice fading as he stepped out into Baroque Bay. People were coming and out of Tall Johnny’s and some looked at Kreig with excitement and some with scorn. Kreig didn’t pay heed, he just needed to wander about. Its not like anyone was going to be stupid enough to deal with him before a fight after all, not if they want to be on Tall Johnny’s shyke list.

[Bronwen]

Bronwen wondered if the man that was sent to watch her cared if she knew he was there or not. He didn't act as if he did, sitting two tables over, glaring at her over the rim of ale mug. He was one of her earlier escorts and judging by how the man sat easy, unperturbed by the many scowls Bron shot his way he wanted her to know he was there.

Two bells had passed before Bronwen had given up her Kreig vigil outside and had finally made her way inside to a table. That was a bell ago and had given the young Syliran a long while to think, something she tried hard not to do of late. But, ponder she did, and down the long road that had led her to her current situation, she went. A long journey, that road, one of arrogance, bad choices, bad people, and even worse choices, and here she sat, waiting on a renowned fighter to show his face so she could promptly regret her life. Not for the first time, Bronwen considered a long rope and a high roof a better alternative, but like every other time that dark thought had circumnavigated her mind, her sister's smile floated up behind her eyes.

Sunberth had become a trap for Bronwen, a cesspool of addiction and need, that she couldn't escape. The lawless city had warped Bron's sense of belonging and purpose, disguising it with a self-pitying desire to self destruct. Even Samantha's memory and the drive to find her was less critical now. A nice thought, once, perhaps, but now suddenly unattainable, unworthy of the effort to have to fail again.

Bron swirled the last of her ale around the bottom of the mug, making sure the liquid mixed with every last speck of the powder she had mixed in. "An edge," she thought ruefully. She knew very well she would need more than just an edge to do what she had to do, and a bit of gold dust wouldn't give it to her. It was something, though.

"Please tell me you have some more of whatever that was." The familiar female voice came from behind her, causing Bron to nearly choke on the last of her ale. Bron looked around just as a chair was pulled out from beneath the table and Jesse lowered herself down beside Bron. Jesse, the only soul in Sunberth that the Syliran considered a true friend. Of all the workers at Brega's, Jesse was the kindest, most sincere of them all. A tiny thing, saying the young blonde was five feet tall would be generous, with a giant heart and even bigger personality, Jesse could light up a dark room with nae a candle at hand. Bron loved her dearly, and she was the last person she wanted to see.

"Fresh out." Bron said, a little more bite to her tone than she intended."What are you doing here?"

"Customers, of course." Jesse leaned into Bron's arm, smelling of lilacs and cherries, blue eyes roving the room "There's a fight tonight, a big one, and lots of coin." she smiled, glancing back to Bron. "You? What you doing here?" she frowned, studying Bron's face closer. "You okay? You look a little..." Whatever else the girl was saying fell on deaf ears as Bron's attention turned to a man she was sure to be Kreig Messer sauntering into view from the back of the room. She tracked him as he traversed the many patrons of the establishment before disappearing through the exit.

"I have to go." Bron announced abruptly, coming to her feet only to promptly fall back into her chair. She felt Jesse's small fingers wrap around her forearm, her voice concerned, but Bron couldn't quite understand her words for the sudden buzzing behind her ears, sweat breaking out in beads along her forehead. "I have to go." repeated Bron, jerking her arm free as she stood and made for the exit, staggering as she went, Jesse falling in behind her, concern etched into her features.

By the time Bronwen fell in behind Kreig, sweat ran in rivulets down her temples, chest, and between her shoulder blades, heart pounding in a palpitating rhythm. Behind her, Jesse yelled her name, but Bron marched on until she was within an arm's length of her quarry. "Kreig Messer?" she called and just as the man began to turn, Bron attacked.

Positioning the quarterstaff over her head, Bron spun it to the right, aiming for the man's head, immediately reversing her hold to use the same momentum to sweep left to take out his legs. Both strikes met only air, however, causing Bron to lose her footing at the same time the world tipped, bringing her to a knee. The buzzing in her head became a roaring as her sight blurred.

Someone grabbed her arm and was screaming her name. It was her friend, but Bron lashed out, twisting the staff from the ground in an upward thrust against the head of the only friend she had, but Bron cared little. "Don't touch me!" she snarled, using her staff to stumble upright, the fingers of her left hand trailing the smooth wood of her staff. With a soft click twin curved blades slid from either end of the quarterstaff.

Bron's wild gaze struggled to focus as she charged Kreig, staff spinning.

[Kreig Messer]

As Kreig began to turn to the person calling his name he was attacked ‘Typical’ He thought ‘ just when I want to take a walk to clear my head, someone is aiming to knock my petchin’ block off’ And his assailants attack was too obvious, too slow, it took little effort for him to raise his arm and duck his head, parrying the first blow while taking a step back and repeating by using his foot to kick away and take another larger step back. Kreig was annoyed to be sure, and he knew either Olav or Johnny would be annoyed to know he’d been attacked just on the day of the fight. His eyes briefly darted around the place, wondering if there was more assailants. No, no there didn’t seem to be, the only company that the girl seemed t ohave was the other pretty girl who was trying to get her to stop. Spur of the moment? Girl had a grudge against him and she just lost control? She looked worse for wear that was for certain, and she obviously wasn’t heeding her friend’s concern “Ya better give a listen to your friend, girl. Not sayin’ ya don’t got any hope of winnin’, but I am sayin’ I’m gonna be the least of yer concern even if ya do somehow win” Oh yes, if she somehow injured him or took him out Johnny wasn’t going to like it one bit. But words fell on deaf ears it seemed as she was on the attack, Kreig really didn’t need this he mentally complained. His brow rose when he saw those blades come out of the end of her staff and he couldn’t help but be impressed by that, that was a fun trick to see really… of course the added chance he’d get stabbed, cut, or end up ruining one of his shirts again really didn’t appeal to the Brawler. “Ya know…. Ye really aren’t gonna like what’s gonna come next” He said pulling his fist back in clear intent, near his waist and clearly intending a punch to her midsection, preferably to her abdomen so he could knock the wind right out of her and end this in one go. If it all goes well, he wouldn’t have blood on his hands, her fiend wouldn’t lose a friend, and he’d probably teach her a lesson she would better remember. Or she could die, which was certainly a possibility, Or she would indeed learn yet not the lesson he’d hoped and he’d just have another assassination attempt on his head, for which he might really kill her then. In the end there was only one way to find out; he threw the punch.

[Bronwen]

Bronwen took a step toward Kreig, staff spinning right, aimed for the side of the man's head, but with her final step the Syliran walked right into the fighter's fist, causing her aimed strike to fall, slamming into the ground. The jolt from the impact caused the bladed end of her quarterstaff to ricochet upward, and with her body drawn forward from the punch, the blade carved a crimson line from the corner of one brow to her ear.

Bron doubled over the hard blow, the air forced from her lungs. Falling to her knees, Bron struggled to keep from retching as blood slid down her temple and cheek, tinging drool pink as it hung from gasping lips. Beside her, just a few feet away, hand covering the aching knot forming on the side of her head, Jesse reached for a tiny burlap bag that had fallen from Bron's pocket, studying its contents carefully. The woman's blue eyes danced between the container and Bron as understanding slowly dawned for her friend.

Bron writhed, attempting to suck breath back into her protesting lungs. Around her laughter trickled to her ears, gaining in volume and intensity. Words like "Pathetic" and "weak" surfaced through the mirth and with each word Bron's ire rose. "Shut up!" she wheezed, then louder "Shut up!!" until finally a feral scream issued from her mouth, spraying bloody drool with the words "Shut the petch up!!!" Bron staggard to her feet, dragging her staff from the dirt, chest heaving. With lurching steps, she singled out the closest bystander and stumbled toward him.

Jesse watched her go, bewildered, then her blue gaze finally shifted to Kreig. Slowly, understanding of what had happened to Bron surfaced, and Jesse stepped toward the fighter, face drawn with concern. "Please?" she said, hand hesitantly reaching to touch the man's arm. "This isn't Bronwen Druva. This isn't who she is." Jesse lifted the small bag, tilting it so that Kreig could see the white staining the inside. "Bron has been drugged. She thought she was taking gold dust, but this is white ash."

Bron swayed as she stepped up to the stranger. The man was tall, though not as tall as Bronwen. His dark hair lay in greasy clumps about his shoulders, framing an unshaved face. He grinned as he looked Bron up and down. "Gonna poke meh w'yur stick?" he slurred around a mouth full of yellowing and rotten teeth. Bron frowned at him, unable to make out his words as the drug in her body took a firm hold on her. Before she could lift suddenly heavy arms to swing her staff, the stranger backhanded Bron causing her to spin around then slammed a fist into her back. Bron fell on her face in the mud and slowly rolled to her back, groaning, long strands of dark hair striped across her face.

Jesse was on her knees by her friend's side in an instant, but when Bron's sight cleared enough to see, her grey eyes went wide around dilated pupils.

"Samantha." whimpered Bronwen, glaring up at Jesse in wonder. Only, it wasn't her friend that Bron saw, it was her sister. A sister that Bronwen had been searching for for over 5 seasons. "I think I need to go home. She groaned. The younger woman smoothed back the hair from Bron's face, shaking her head. "If I take you back like this, you will surely lose your job." Bron blinked, not quite comprehending the consequences. "Take me home, Sammy, please, and tell Kreig I'm sorry. Tell him The Fence will get me now."

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig winced, that punch of his indirectly causing more damage than he intended when her own weapon’s blade caused a nasty cut on her head. This made him feelbad, itsnotlike punching her actually made him feel good in the first place, the laughter suddenly erupting from the crowd certainly hadn’t helped. And as the woman tried to gather her breath, her movements were erratic and the Brawlerknew the laughter and insults were probably a bitter sting. His face winced as she loudly shouted for them all to shut up once sufficient breath was regained, it was impressive she could shout that loudly if here were honest and then she staggered off towards another bloke it seemed. Briefly he wondered if he should have gone after her, by all rights she did try to harm him and no one in Sunbirth would hold that against him. But the thing was he didn’t want to, not every thug or idiot needed to be killed to get the point across and Kreig simply wasn’t that sort of person. In this instance killing simply wasn’t the answer. Her friend, the one trying to stop her stood in his path and Kreig watched her expression. Then his expression grew wide. A Druva? An honest to goodness Druva? Part ofhim thought this was some sort of twisted coincidence, there was no way a member of the Druva clan would be in Sunberth. The fingers of his left hand drummed against his thigh, his mind racing in thought. That same expression shifted into a disgusted scowl once the woman explained her friend had been drugged. Great, then whoever sent her probably planned for her to die and he was being used as proxy for a damn execution at least that was the assumption given. It was terrible to kill someone needlessly but it was worse when someone attempted to use him as a tool in their bloody plots. And it was against a Druva! Kreig’s former patron was a Druva, he’d be killing family members of his own Sera! He felt an anger boiling inside him. He saw the Druva girl’s friend run towards her after she ran afoul of the thug she foolishly approached in her drug induced state. He let out a low growl as he took a lazy looking steps towards the blaggard. When he looked up to see what Kreig’s deal was with an open mouth, Kreig’s fist met his face and knocked the bastard down and out. He was close enough to hear Bronwen’s words and he gave a sharp glance to her friend “Hey, if ya don’ want yer friend to meet a rope ‘round her neck, follow me to Tall Johnny’s and stay put in my room. Once she rests an’ I’m done with me fight, I’ll see about havin’ the Fence off her back, savvy?” And then he moved onwards, not bothering to wait for a reply “ ‘Sides if ya try to take her back now ya both’ll jus’ be jumped, ironically ‘s safer with me than without”

[Bronwen]

Bron's glassy-eyed gaze looked on in fear as the man-shaped shadows walked the circumference of the darkened room. At first, they were prowling wolves that snarled and snapped at Bronwen's feet and hands. One by one the wild beasts had slowly morphed into a grotesque parody of a human, walking, walking, ever circling the room, until they had faded into the terrifying, red eyed umbra that now held Bron down by the wrists as long, wraith like hands jabbed the tips of blades into her back and head.

Bronwen lay in the middle of the fighter's bed, bound arms splayed out by her sides, both wrists tied to the frame of the bed. The tall woman's face was deathly pale between the curtain of brunette hair plastered across her face by sweat and dried blood. A rogue lock of hair, caught in the intake and exhale of breath, flowed to and from Bron's parted and dried lips as frantic eyes followed the path of something that Jesse could not see.

Jesse watched over the other female from across the room, unable to get close enough to tend her properly. She had tried, many times, but Bronwen would begin to scream and flail, and Jesse was scared she would hurt herself. So, the prostitute stayed clear of her friend, looking on in worry and dread.

Lamplight spilled out across the wooden floor as the door to the room swung open. Jesse jumped up from her perch in the corner, relieved to see the fighter return. She cared for Bron, a lot, but she was out of her element in this and was at a loss for what to do for her friend.

"I had to tie her arms down." she began "She sees things that aint there." Jesse glanced over to where Bronwen writhed and whimpered in her bonds "Frightening things, I think." she shook her head "She's still bleedin, and I can't get close enuff to rightly see to her." Jesse glanced up, catching Kreig's gaze. "I saw this afor, mister." she nodded her head in Bron's direction. "She done took too much, way too much, and she's seeing things and talking to people who ain't no where round. I've seen people die usin less, Mister, and I've seen um become anything you want um to be and answer anything ya ask." she shook her head again "Don't know which was meant for her. I don't know much a'nothin that's gone on with her, but I think you better could help her than I could. Bron's a strong woman and can beat it if'n her mind's on it."

Jesse paused, looking thoughtful before continuing. "Bron's daddy, some metal bigshot hero from Syliras, was s'posed to show up any day. Mat somethin nother. Bron was hiding from him though, didn't much want to see him." While Jesse had been talking, she had rounded Kreig, slowly inching toward the door. Now the prostitute stood with a small hand on the doorknob. "I'll see what all I can find out. I'll send him if I find him, but mister, I have to go. I can't do no good here and I...I...have to go." With that, Jesse threw open the door and bolted.

[Kreig Messer]

The fight, if that was even what it could be called, lasted longer than it should…. And not because the opponent was a skilled fighter but was rather good at slipping away. He supposed though that knowing not to get hit was a fighter’s skill all on its own, but it was irritating because the opponent simply didn’t take risks. If he were a skilled fighter he would have exploited oppenings, struck when Kreig was gathering his breath, anything to put that skill of evasion to good use! If his opponent’s intent was simply to outlast Kreig to the point of exhaustion the fellow had failed miserably when Krieg got a good punch. And that was all it took, a punch. At least he and his audience didn’t have to endure it a tick longer, and if he was honest his mind wouldn’t have been into the fight even if it had been a proper opponent; he had a Druva to worry about after all. When he went back to his room there was Bronwen tied to his bed, there was a twisted joke to be had somewhere about this but Kreig didn’t know it nor did he wish to. Jess was kind enough to explain why Bronwen was tied up and the source of it even as she inched bit by bit towards the door. He couldn’t really blame her. Still his eyes widen when informed the girl’s own father was in Sunberth, or was supposed to be. Was Bron some runaway or did her father really think that Sunbirth was a place to take your child to. Granted Bron wasn’t a child but just because one was adult of age didn’t mean they weren’t still a child in mind. Yahal knew Kreig still had some growing up to do and he was in his thirties. And with a promise of sending for the father if she saw him, Jess bolted off and left Kreig with a delusional Bronwen. Kring blinked, having been silent the entire time before looking back to Bronwen and then the door “…. Well bugger, didn’t think she’d actually bolt” The brawler was no tender, and the closest one to a tender they had here was… Kreig sighed, when life gives you lemons…. He wandered back out the room to fetch Olav. Now Olav was a mean looking sort, typical of Sunberth and the fellow wasn’t shy about it. He knew a about fixing people up but only a bit, and Kreig with little choice only had the big bald bastard to rely on for that. Predictably, his bedside manner was atrocious as he brough in some needle and thread with a basin of water and a wet cloth “ Ya know Kreig, some smol par’ o’ me always hoped you’d find a girl to bed. Shake that ‘virign’ thing ya got goin’ on, unfittin’ for a fighter’s image that. But I never thought ya one for druggin’ a girl an’ tyin’ her up to your bed” he said calm as you like as he held her head firmly as he dabbed her cut with the cloth and pressed firmly to stem the bleeding, ignoring whatever noise Bron was making. Kreig grinded his teeth at that “Laugh it up..” “I am” “…but some nitwit set this girl on me hopin’ I’d knock her out for them or whatever. Still ain’t clear but someone’s settin’ me up for some dirty work an’ its probably the Fence, least the girl said ‘fore we took her here ” Olav blinked at that “Huh, Johnny’s not gonna like that if the Fence is involved” “Yeah?” Olave nodded and mumbled about needing some stitching, which was probably going to be a rough one since Olav wasn’t all that versed in the healing arts “Right, can’t do the stitchin’ if she’s gonna be squirmy Kreig, an’ if she’s all drugged up ‘s probably better I’m better treatin’ her if she’s unconscious” “Yeah? Well are we gonna do about that” “Oh I either giver ‘er a calmin’ draught an’ have ‘er drink it or we do this the hard way” Kreig’s brow shot up “Whats the hard away” At that Olave motioned with his hands a strangling motion and Kreig winced “Er…yeah, reckon a calmin’ draught is better” “Yup, thing is since she’s already so drugged up I ain’t sure it’ll do much, but you’re the one takin’ care of her so its your call” Kreig nodded, not liking to make this sort of decisions “Do it, at the leas’ if we calm her down an’ get her to sleep the drug’ll probably finish..whatever it is an’ we have a proper talk, as it is now all we’ll have is someone too mucked up in the head who’ll do somethin’ stupid” Olav nodded, leaving to fetch one of the draughts they had in storage, Tall Johnny usually had at least a few of them about since some days were simply stressful enough to require it. Olav soon returned with it, a small dosage that should be enough. Kreig sat beside Bronwen as he watched Olav approached, during the time the man was away he spent it making sure Bron hadn’t hurt herself some more “Bronwen Druva” Kreig began, speaking in a more Syliran accent “You have been hurt and are currently being under care, we are about to give you something to drink that may calm you ma’am” He said it as best he could, Olav’s brow raised as if wondering where that came from. Kreig didn’t answer and simply motioned for Olav to pour the draught in her gullet, here’s hoping she’s cooperative.