Brawl at the Inn

  • Prince

    “How much have they had?” Marcos asked his barback Jorge.

    “I think maybe a bottle shared between the table.”

    Marcos raised his eyebrows at the thought, they looks so burly, not the type to be so piss drunk from drinking just a couple of shots of tequila piece. The Helian’s had bought up his whole inn, about 17 people total. They had paid well, more than he’d normally make from a group this size but then again they weren’t drinking as much as typical Calladonian folks.

    He watched two of the men at a table near the middle, they were going back and forth and the language seemed ot get more and more gruff as they did. A few simple words had been shared; more, food, toilet. Nothing serious but enough that they could get the basics down. Marcos walked over to the two men and waited just on the edge of their conversation.

    “More?” He said in an off accent Helian. He was sure to put those few Helian words to good use.

    The dark haired one of them frowned and stood up form his seat and roared something down at the blonde on. He held the edge of his hand to his own forehead and tapped it twice. The whole inn went quiet. None of them spoke until the one who was their leader spoke up after a long though. The Inn roared and everyone began to pour into the streets outside the Inn.

    Marcos was frozen at the table watching them all pour out into the street, all of them were drunk and jovial except the two when we seemed to have issue, they left among the throng. “Jorge call the guard.” Marcos said as he walked from the inn behind them, trying to calm them but he had no words and resorted to his own language. He tried to speak slowly and calmly but nothing seemed to work. He looked behind himself at the bar, the leader of the group hadn’t moved he didn’t seem to care about going.

    The two men were surrounded in a small circle, they were removing their armor, chainmail came off into a heap. Then gambesons, then greaves. Until they were bare chested and in their pants and boots. They turned to face each other and the crowd chanted someone in unison three times before the two men came to blows. They were dancing in and out of range delivering shots to the body that Marco's was sure broke ribs but they kept going. Tight stances and swift footwork. Blows were quickly and skillfully slipped and dodged but those blows that did connect landed with force. Headbutts and short kicks but neither reached out to grappled. The blonde one slipped a blow and delivered an uppercut followed by two short hooks to the torso grazing the liver and sending the dark haired one to his knees in pain. A knee to the face and he dropped to the pavement in a fountain of blood.

    The crowd roared and cheered. The only thing for sure that Marcos could suss out from it was the word Alkourie. He’d have to ask the blind man what that meant in the morning. The cheering died down and the people moved back into the inn, leaving the two bloody men outside. They had scooped up the others armored and belongings. The blonde one, the winner knelt down and spoke with the other who was just really regaining himself. Marcos moved to help as well but the blonde one held out his hand to stop him. He helped the other up and put his arm over his shoulder and they both smiled. The blonde one said something to Marcos before helping his former enemy back into the Inn as well.
    It was a few moments before three town guards rushed over, their halberds seen before them and their feathers bouncing jovially as they moved.

    “We heard they were fighting. Is everything alright Marcos?”

    “Alexio, it’s alright they were settling a disagreement Ithink.” He pointed to the blood pool, and Alexio saw it and groaned.

    “Tell Them to keep it down then if you can. We don’t want anymore trouble like this.”

    “I will try buddy. Come by in the morning we will be cooking a lot, they can’t handle their drink but they eat like bears. Sorry for the trouble.” Marcos smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder.

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