|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2008 6:09 am
Lenneth watched closely as Brandon stopped to talk to a few customers. He really had a wide range of contacts as opposed to her who generally avoided everyone and only talked to people when it was absolutely necessary. And as he sat down beside her (she ignored the part about ‘the girl he likes’ bit) and asked her what she wanted to drink, she frowned in thought. What did people drink here? She looked around, trying to guess what those colorful liquids in the glasses were before she shrugged and ordered a simple fruit drink. It was a safe move and it was hardly expensive. She just hoped that this particular establishment didn’t put alcohol in her drink otherwise she’d be done for.
“Joker…your title?” Lenneth asked although there really was no need to so she forged on ahead with another question, “so you’re from the capital. It’s a very lively place and the people’s attitudes are very different from the border cities. Why did you move here? If you wanted a position as a soldier, you could have gotten a very high ranking one in the capital with the skills that you posses.”
For the time being, she would forget about Andrea or her chakrams (even though it was really very difficult to do) and she would try to enjoy herself. Already she was relaxing somewhat. Although, someone trained to fight like her would never be truly relaxed as instincts forced her to be alert to the slightest movement. She suddenly stiffened though, when she caught sight of another person she knew quite well. And he was approaching their table too. She glared at the redheaded man that had a smirk on as he stopped right in front of their table. In his hand was a glass full of liquor.
“So, Lenny’s back from her ‘adventures’. What have you been up to lately?” he asked and then he leaned forward and gently tapped her forehead. His disposition suddenly became hostile, “Little whore. Why’d you come back anyway?”
“My reasons for visiting my home are none of your concern. I suggest you head back to your pathetic group before I dismantle your alcohol driven body in front of everyone,” Lenneth answered in much the same manner. The redhead glared at her before he looked at Brandon, “This one ain’t worth your time,” he said before he moved back to his group. Lenneth continued to observe him and her eye twitched in annoyance when several of his ‘friends’ laughed. Probably at her.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 25, 2008 6:30 am
Brandon simply nodded to the waitress, she would bring him the usual, beer from the other barrel, beer without added water. Of course he would pay a little more but that was to be expected. The maid then hopped away to the counter, avoiding hands throughout the bar. She didn’t have anything to worry, a fruit drink was still a fruit drink in the Dragon Inn and they would only put liquor in it when she asked, or when Brandon asked.
“Not a title, a nickname. Because of the card deck I use.” He sighed a little as she asked why he moved here… “Well, I had no relatives in the capital and at that time my skills consisted off randomly lashing out.” He chuckled as he remembered how absolutely clumsy he was at first, “I moved her because my aunt could take care of me while I learned to fight as a soldier. This is the place I learned to fight, fend for myself and basically survive. I first started as a White Fang Scout before moving on to be an Exterminator.”
He wanted to say more but he noticed how Lenneth stiffened up and stared at a man that approached their table. Brandon had seen him around in the tavern a few times before, he usually made a lot of noise. He did so as well as he ‘talked’ to Lenneth. Brandon had to hold himself back from snatching that mans finger and breaking it. Something said him that if he did, this bar would be trashed in a matter of moments.
Brandon looked at Lenneth for a moment, anger rushing beneath his cool face. “So, is there a valid reason why he said such a thing?” By the tone of his voice you could hear that Brandon was hoping for a negative answer. Not only did that guy work on his nerves, Brandon also wanted to vent some anger from before and trashing that guy’s face would do just fine. He knew he had two more White Fangs in this bar, they were sitting just a few tables away and were looking towards Brandon to see what they had to do.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2008 4:00 am
With a final glare, Lenneth turned away from the group of laughing men only to look upon the face of one man who was apparently quite angry. She blinked at his cool façade, wondering why he was so mad…or it seemed like it in the least. Even his tone suggested it. Was he going to try to intervene for her? No. That was unacceptable. Though she found the act itself sweet, she wasn’t about to let him walk into the middle of her problems. Half of Brindol was against her (and if not, then almost half) and they seemed to only be gaining in number the longer she stayed. She didn’t want to involve him in this.
“No,” she answered but quickly continued before he could leap out of his chair and start a brawl, “but don’t interfere. This is my problem and I will find a solution for it soon enough.”
Or a solution will be found for me, she added silently, whichever came first.
The waitress came back with their drink and she thanked the woman but didn’t sip on her order. She stared at the delicious looking liquid but she felt no desire to drink it. She’d lost her appetite and it showed on her face. Her mouth was drawn into a firm line, her shoulders slightly tense, and her eyes showing absolute nonchalance. She didn’t expect to run into so many troubles on the second day of her return. She should have really but she’d been too optimistic. Too naïve to have thought that they would have forgotten about that night and moved on with their lives.
“By tomorrow, people will be talking about us and it won’t be the good kind of gossip. Some will do what they can to lower people’s respect for you and others will try to ruin your day. It’s because of me,” she shook her head as she fowned in thought, “I didn’t expect the rumors would start so soon after my arrival so I agreed to go on this date. I was mistaken. I’m sorry for that. You’ll have a rough few days ahead of you.”
"Hey Lenny! What's the matter? Don't you have a job to do in the dark alleys?" one of the men from the redhead's table mockingly shouted over. Lenneth felt her eye twitch in annoyance. She wouldn't lose her head over some trivial insult. That was just what they wanted. To get her to look like a fool. They'd have a field day in hell before that happened.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2008 1:45 pm
Brandon listened to her, she didn’t seem to be fond of him starting a brawl but that really was here problem. He wouldn’t interfere with her problems, just teach those guys to treat a women with respect, regardless of her past. He nodded to waitress as he received his beer, she would put it on his tap and by the end of the month it would be deducted from his salary. If Lenneth didn’t want him to pay for her, that would be her lose so he didn’t mention it, instead he just let her talk.
Brandon raised and eyebrow in curiosity when she finished. “Ruin my day? Don’t worry about that, I doubt they would be so stupid to actually do that. And if I do want to be rid of the gossip, I can always go out in the wilderness for a day or three.” He shook his head, “look, I’ll just keep calm for now. I won’t start a brawl but if that guy or any of his friend…”
Too late, he didn’t have to finish his sentence. Brandon grinned, “well, he did it. Guess that make it easy for me.” He shrugged and acted as cool as he could to not inform those guys he would be beating them senseless in a few moments. “This is partially also because I got wounded earlier today, some scout didn’t do the standard perimeter check when handling with a troll. As a result a nearby gnome party got invited and you know the rest.”
He finished his beer, “now, don’t try and stop me. I’m just having some fun.” With a false smile on his face he stood up and gave his two companion a little nod. They would simply slip over to those guy’s table and have a nice chat, at first that is. Both of them were known as Striker and One Hit John. Formidable men and just like Brandon they could deal with trolls and gnomes on any day. This bar fight would be a peace of cake and a welcome fresh breath from the constant foul smell of those things in the Wilderness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2008 8:15 pm
As usual, all the edits are done in bold. ^-^ Nothing much really. You're getting better everytime!
Quote: Brandon listened to her. She didn’t seem to be fond of him starting a brawl but that really was her problem. He wouldn’t interfere with her dilemmas. He just wanted to teach those guys how to treat a women with respect, regardless of her past. He nodded to thewaitress as he received his beer . She would put it on his tap and by the end of the month it would be deducted from his salary. If Lenneth didn’t want him to pay for her, that would be her lose so he didn’t mention it . Instead he just let her talk. Brandon raised an eyebrow in curiosity when she finished. “Ruin my day? Don’t worry about that, I doubt they would be so stupid to actually do that. And if I do want to be rid of the gossip, I can always go out in the wilderness for a day or three.” He shook his head, “look, I’ll just keep calm for now. I won’t start a brawl but if that guy or any of his friend…” Too late . He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Brandon grinned, “ Well, he did it. Guess that make it easy for me.” He shrugged and acted as cool as he could to not inform those guys he would be beating them senseless in a few moments. “This is partially also because I got wounded earlier today . Some scout didn’t do the standard perimeter check when handling with a troll. As a result a nearby gnome party got invited and you know the rest.” He finished his beer, “ Now, don’t try and stop me. I’m just having a little fun.” With a false smile on his face he stood up and gave his two companion a little nod. They would simply slip over to those guys’ table and have a nice chat, at first that is. Both of them were known as Striker and One Hit John. Formidable men and just like Brandon they could deal with trolls and gnomes on any day. This bar fight would be a piece of cake and a welcome fresh breath from the constant foul smell of those things in the Wilderness.
“Now don't try and stop me," she mimicked in an unusually high voice before she snorted, "men. They just can’t get through a day without beating the crap out of someone. Or getting the crap beaten out of them,” she said, obviously annoyed and quite possibly a little bit amused. She didn’t like it when her words were ignored. Particularly in situations wherein it was for the listener's own benefit. But this situation was different. Not only will it rid the bar of possibly the most boisterous group but also because once John's (the redhead) group was gone, she'd be able to enjoy the evening.
And she deserved it.
She hummed before she quickly sipped on her drink. If there was going to be a brawl, it was best that she keep any glass that had the potential to spill liquid away from her. She'd learned that the hard way during one of her stays at an inn she once stayed at. That shirt that had been permanently stained by hot chocolate had not come cheap.
What was she supposed to do though? Stay here and be the damsel in distress? She reared up, incredulity written all over her face. That was simply out of the question! But she couldn't interrupt the fight that was about to ensue. Those two others were probably White Fangs as well. She'd just get in their way if she joined them. With a growl she leaned back on her chair and watched the audience. She'd act as a support and at the same time, avoid any person that saw fit to use her as a hostage.
She smirked as she thought about it. Maybe she'd get to set someone aflame this time. And then she frowned.
What was it with bars that made her think like a pyromaniac?
Meanwhile, at the table of the redheaded man, laughter and hilarity ensued. They were completely unaware of the three men that were approaching their table ready to teach them a firm lesson in manners. There were four of them in total, all of them having had more than enough alcohol in their systems for them to slur whenever they talked. And still they just kept chugging those beers along.
The redhead looked in Lenneth's direction, obviously ready to deliver another insult. He was sorely disappointed however, when he saw that he couldn't see the whore. His view was blocked by that guy she was with...and there were two others. He signaled his friends and as one, the four stared at the approaching White Fangs. Red, being the self-proclaimed leader of the group, initiated the diplomatic talk.
"What d'ya wunt?"
It wasn't exactly the type of talk that prevented war with other nations but it certainly got the point across.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2008 4:57 am
As Brandon walked over to the table he counted four men that they would be fighting. His look got a little disappointed but he kept his smile up anyway. Striker and One Hit John were just as disappointed as Brandon was. They were also hoping that these guys had some more friends at other tables. Too bad. It would just have to do.
Brandon stopped right behind the red head and Striker and One Hit John stood between the remaining three. If they really wanted to they could draw there own weapon and kill these four men in a flash. Now they were only looking for a fight so Brandon grabbed for the red heads hair and would pull him to the side if he got him.
“I think the girl want an apology, a really honest one. While my friends and I are just looking for a fight.” Brandon grinned, he knew these guys knew off him and he really doubted if they were looking forward to a fight. But who knows, perhaps they thought they could win with four against three. Though chance, each of them could take care of five gnomes at once without getting hurt.
Meanwhile Striker had already grabbed the hair of two men, he was legendary for the speed of his fist. That’s why he got the name Striker. He didn’t use a sword of bow, he used two gauntlets that could grow spikes to kill his opponents. At the same time One Hit John had grabbed the remaining mans hair. Named like that because he did use a bow and arrow and was able to kill a troll with one shot. His bow was magical yet it didn’t increase the power of his shots in the usual way. Instead it maintained the highest possible tension on the string and a normal human being wouldn’t be able to pull it back 10cm. One Hit John had trained day and night to obtain enough arm strength to be able to pull it back completely.
So there they were, each of them holding on to the hair of an other guy, painfully tugging them to the side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2008 10:44 pm
Lenneth finished her drink with a frown. Girl? Girl?. Somehow, she found that being called a girl was a lot more insulting than being called a whore. She looked down at herself. She had breasts, a slender waist, muscled thighs, and long legs. She was a woman. Was Brandon blind or something? There was no way she could be compared to a girl!
The redhead winced as his hair roots were agonizingly pulled and he was forced to follow the motion. His friends were in the same situation. All of them had been far too drunk to even hope to avoid the fast hands of the White Fangs. Wait a second! The redheaded man blinked and narrowed his eyes at Brandon. He felt himself sweat a little. This man…this man was the Joker! Why hadn’t he noticed before? If he’d only remembered then he wouldn’t have poked so much fun at Lenneth.
His eyes swerved around the room. There were many of his friends in the tavern, all looking at the situation with assessing eyes. If he surrendered, he’d be the laughing stock of the whole town! It was decided then. He’d fight even if he was probably going to lose. He glared at Brandon and spat on the floor, the liquid landing only a few inches away from the Joker’s left foot.
“That whore doesn’t deserve nothin’! And if it’s a fight you wunt, it’s a fight you’ll get!”
And just like that, eight men stood up. There were two on Brandon’s right, ready to fight. Two were behind Striker while two more were on One Hit John’s left. And the last two were directly behind Lenneth’s table. There was a moment of silence in the tavern before someone dropped a coin. The sound echoed throughout the room and all of a sudden, chaos started happening. The eight attacked. For Brandon, one threw a glass at his head while the other charged, using his elbow to hopefully unbalance Brandon. If he was lucky, perhaps he could even break a rib or floor him.
For Striker, one tried to lock him in a hold by trying to grab both of his arms from behind. The other was waiting for Striker’s move. Whatever it was, he was going to counter it with a punch. One Hit John’s enemies pounced, trying to get him down to the floor so they could pound on him. The four that the White Fangs held in place began struggling, trying their best to get their hair out of Brandon and his friends’ grips. They would try to grab or kick those that held them in hopes of creating a distraction or getting away. Sometime during the chaos, someone had shouted to ‘grab the girl!’.
“Stop calling me that!” Lenneth shouted, unable to hold back her outburst any longer, and uncaring of the fact that she’d probably distracted someone with that yell. And then she’d become the center of attention of the two enemies that were left. They approached the unknowing woman from behind and without warning locked her into a hold from behind, making certain that her arms were of no use and that she wouldn’t be able to turn around. She frowned before she was forced to stand. It really was just too bad that she had long hair. With a nasty grin, she flipped her hair as hard as she could, catching her enemy in the eye with the long strands. Both of them groaned. Lenneth because she’d most probably strained her shoulder muscles and the man because his eyes bloody hurt. His grip didn’t lose though. His friend approached and stood beside them, waiting till the White Fangs had noticed that they had the woman hostage.
“Don’t mind me! I can get out of this!” Lenneth shouted just in case anyone in Brandon’s group was thinking of helping her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2008 2:52 pm
They weren’t dumb, having trained years in the art of combat and war, these three men knew how to read the tide of battle. The difference however was there instincts in battle. Brandon was somebody to take the fight to his opponent, Striker liked to counter and John loved long distance. So it wasn’t that surprising that when the eight new opponents stood up they all acted differently.
The only thing they did share was that they acted before anybody else, directly after the red-head had spoken. All three of them instantly knew that they had four men under control and could get rid of them. And so they did. They now grabbed their heads instead of their hair and violently slammed them, face first, in to the table. It would break their noses without a doubt and knock them unconscious while spilling some blood.
With just a single look at each other they all picked their opponents. Exactly the same ones that would have attacked them but they beat them to it. While their opponents doubted the White Fang acted.
Striker turned around and dashed towards his two men. He wondered how good the two were with their fists so all he did was throw a few punches towards the left guy. Aiming for his head and stomach as he stood in a standard boxing form.
John only turned around and as he did he grabbed a glass that stood on the table next to him. He would wait to see what his opponents did. If either them moved towards him they would get a glass thrown at them so fast and accurate they could only dream about it.
Brandon on the other hand instantly attacked and would show no mercy. He had seen the men behind Lenneth but since she was a traveller she would know how to deal with it. Brandon swooped a glass from the table with his left hand and attacked the right hand guy with it. He would try to hit him hard in the face to knock him out. At the same time, whether the glass hit or not he would turned around and knock the other guy in the face with his right elbow. It didn’t matter how the left guy would punch, if he could punch because Jonathan was only a few inches away from him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 1:13 am
Truth be told, it didn’t matter what the White Fangs did. Their enemies would still have acted the same. As the original four dropped to the ground in an unconscious heap, the additional eight continued with their attacks. Striker was able to hit one of his opponents simultaneously. One in the gut and another in the face. He staggered backwards, tripping over a chair and landing hard on his back. The other one was free, however, and before the White Fang’s move was finished, he’d lashed out with a vicious punch to the stomach. It was clumsy at best but what can you do? He wasn’t exactly trained to do battle.
Well since the John’s enemies tactics did not change either, they still pounced. One was hit solidly in the face and he groaned in pain as he walked unsteadily backwards. His nose was broken and probably bleeding too. Since John was holding only one glass, there was time for his remaining enemy to make it to the White Fang without much injuries. The man tackled John. When they hit the ground, or if they hit the ground, he was going to pummel John’s face with a string of punches.
The man that charged at Brandon grunted as he came face to face with a glass. He crumpled to the ground without further comments. And the other had his nose effectively broken with Brandon’s elbow. He too crumpled to the ground without any further comments.
Lenneth watched them move with something akin to wonder. She’d never scene such grace before. Each one of them reacted in a different way but it was Brandon’s style that caught her attention the most. He didn’t play with his enemies. He simply took them out as fast as possible, using his superior strength as a soldier to his every advantage. She glanced to the side, seeing that one of her captors was as mesmerized (or probably frightened) by the fight as she had been and she guessed that the one holding her wrists, he’d moved them as soon as she had proven that she wouldn’t be fighting back, behind her was captivated as well. It was time for her to move.
She ducked her head and flipped her hair again, catching the man off-guard and once more effectively blinding him for a moment. This time, however, Lenneth’s body had gone with the momentum of her hair and the man had no choice but to let go of her right wrist in a moment of weakened surprise. She had turned, effectively putting her enemy in front, and without stopping, she kicked upwards to his hand and successfully untangled his fingers from her left wrist. She spun around, stepping on a chair before she stood on the table and jumped to the other side, narrowly missing her leg being grabbed.
She gritted her teeth. Trained or not, she was no match for two men that were twice her size. Not without her Chernobog. Lord she wished that she’d brought it with her. It would have made everything so much simpler. To hell with it, she thought as she did a back flip and landed on another table. It was easy to tell that Lenneth’s style of fighting was in the acrobatics section and not power. As her enemies advanced towards her, she glared and jumped over a chair. She didn’t pause as she landed and ran towards the side of the stairs. She easily hefted herself up and over the railings before she ran a few steps up and turned around. The two men were already on their way up. But the narrow stairs had them forming a line.
Perfect.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 04, 2008 2:32 pm
Striker was somewhat surprised. That guy just really had no fight in him. He had at least hoped that they were hard to knock out. He then got the punch in his stomach, he gritted his teeth just a little and turned around to the man. He held up both hands, the left slightly ahead of the other. He grinned and motioned that his opponent was allowed a second attack. Striker had to get the most out of it.
John saw his opponent go down with a smack and grinned. He quickly focused on the other guy running at him to tackle. Clearly he hadn’t heard of the White Fang, that was just suicide. John wasn’t good at hand to hand combat but training still stuck to him, whether he wanted too or not. So as the man lowered his head to pounce John stepped back with him, tried to grab his head and hit him with knee. It hit hid the mans nose would be a bloody pulp.
Brandon looked at his two comrades who were perfectly in control of their fight. He grinned and then turned towards Lenneth. She seemed to very capable of handling her opponent, not only that, she was doing it with grace and style. Instead of trying to handle it with strength she used her brain and agility. Brandon had to admit he was somewhat jealous. He had always thought that he himself was rather agile. When fighting with two sword he also spun around his enemies and moved along with them but nothing like this.
Precise back flips and excellent landed jumps along with a good dashing speed. As she stood on the stairs Brandon saw where it was going. Those men would be in for a rough ride and he was happy he wasn’t one of them. Well, it didn’t matter really. The important was that the bar wasn’t that trashed up. He had had other bar-fights where the entire place was trashed, those had been fun but the fee was so high.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2008 11:33 pm
He felt a tad smug that he'd been able to hit a White Fang in the stomach. And when Striker motioned that he was allowed a second attack, he got a bit too smug. With a yell, he aimed his right fist into the side of Striker's face, specifically his chin. His chances of hitting him were slim, the man knew that without a doubt but the very fact that he'd been able to hit a White Fang was something to brag about to his comrades. None of them were trained soldiers after all.
John's opponent grunted in pain as knee met nose. He fell to the side, howling at his bloody nose. He covered his face, panic rising within him as he began to feel dizzy. He'd heard that he could die from such an attack and he wasn't really looking forward to staring at death's eyes just yet. Without a doubt, this man wouldn't be fighting anyone anytime soon.
So all that was left was Lenneth's opponents...who were fast climbing the stairs and were quite desperate now that they knew they had dwindled in number. Lenneth's face was indifferent. The setting and the gravity were on her side so she had a lot of advantages. She gritted her teeth and with a speed she had not shown before, she hit the enemy that was closest to her with three strikes. One punch at the bottom of the last rib, another punch to the side of his face, before she crouched low to avoid a clumsy punch and jumped, performing a backwards sommersault and catching the man solidly by his chin. He stepped backwards and rolled down the stairs, his comrade getting out of the way so as not to be taken down with him.
After her spectacular kick, Lenneth had jumped. She was now standing on the railing. Well one of her foot that is. The other was placed flat on the wass using it as a balancer. From here, she would be able to get more power with a downward strike. Intimidated but not yet ready to surrender, the man charged at her. Lenneth waited for the right moment before she jumped, letting the man slightly pass below her before she landed hard on his shoulders and used him as a platform to perfom another jump, causing him to become unbalanced and stagger a few steps up.
As she landed on the ground floor, Lenneth looked behind her, only to find out that her enemy was still hot on her trail. She looked forward and made a mad dash towards a table. A plate was half on it, balancing itself. The heavy footsteps behind her told her that she didn't have a lot of time and so, as soon as she reached the table she raised her foot and, using her body as a cover, brought her foot down onto the side of the plate that didn't have a table supporting it. It lifted off the table and was heading directly for her. She bent backwards however, and let it past above her. It the man behind her directly in the face. He staggered backwards and before he could become aware of his surroundings once again, Lenneth aimed a kick to the side of his face.
He fell sideways, knocking a table over and breaking several glasses in the process. She cringed, thinking of what that was going to cost later on.
The lady looked around, trying to see of there were anyone else who wanted to grab her. She saw Brandon instead, already having dealt with his enemies. Amongst the groaning and the howling, she walked calmly towards him. She crossed her arms and glared pointedly at him.
"I am not the one who's going to pay for all of this."
She wasn't the one who started the brawl after all.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 3:17 pm
Striker saw the expression on the mans face and grinned. Many people had hit Striker in a bar-fight, none ever won or hit him multiple times. His opponent then threw his punch along with yelling out his lungs. Striker couldn’t help but grin. With the least amount of movements Striker dodged the attack and countered. He took a step forward while twisting his head to the side so he avoid the punch. At the same time he raised his left and right hand. With his left hand he gripped towards the mans fist and his right hand reached for his throat.
One Hit John sighed as the man collapsed in front of himself. “Relax buddy, you won’t die. It’s just broken.” He bend down trough his knees and brought his lips to the man’s ear, “just remember that you don’t attack me again like that. I remember a face and the next time I meet you, I will make that fatal.” He grinned and tried to punch the guy in the gut again before standing up and making his way to Brandon.
Brandon sat down against the edge of a table as he enjoyed the show Lenneth was putting up. From his left he could see the ward coming at him with a rather angry face. “You damned White Fang! Every time you come in to my bar you trash it up! Can’t you stay in your own barracks! Who’s going to pay for this? Do you know how much I lost due to you?”
Brandon turned away from Lenneth’s show just as she ducked under the mans fist. He had really wanted to see what she would do next. Instead all he saw was a blur as he focused on the ward. “My dearest man. Don’t worry about it. Like always you can charge it to Brandon at the White Fang commission officer. It’s no problem.”
The ward grumbled at Brandon about adding interest and lost drinks and costumers. It wasn’t his problem so he didn’t pay anymore attention and turned back to Lenneth. Both her opponents were down and now she was walking up to him. He grinned at her and leaned back on the table, both hands behind him. “Don’t fret about it. The ward just got over here and we sorted it out. Though I think you made the biggest mess with jumping around like that.”
John stopped next to Brandon and placed his hand on his friends shoulder. John’s chest was almost twice the size of Brandon’s and his arms were like tree-logs. He was however smaller then Brandon but that didn’t diminish his imposing posture. “Well, that was a nice little fight. A shame they didn’t attack with more. I could have really used the workout.” He then finally looked at Lenneth from top to bottom “And who’s this cat? I saw her jumping around and I must admit, she packs some nice kicks. I bet you can’t handle here without a pair of gloves.” Suggestively he poked Brandon in the side with his elbow and a smirk on his face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 8:22 pm
Striker’s opponent gagged at the hand on his throat. He gritted his teeth and seeing as his fist was currently in the control of the White Fang, he raised his foot and attempted to kick. It was aimed directly for Striker’s left knee. It didn’t have a lot of power but hopefully, it would be enough to get the White Fang to release his throat or his fist.
John’s enemy cringed at the obvious threat and groaned as he received the punch. Good lord. He was never going to mess with a White Fang ever again.
Meanwhile, Lenneth was about to explode with outrage.
Her? The biggest mess? The little cheek! She hadn’t been the one who wanted a brawl in the first place! And she hadn’t even done that much damage (except for maybe those broken glasses and that plate but if you really thought about it, the plate was the only thing she had broken) as opposed to the men who’d probably cracked a table or two. And Brandon even had the gall to grin at her and lean back as if everything was alright. Her mental rant was interrupted by this rather big man, a friend of Brandon’s if she recalled correctly. Her eye twitched in annoyance when he looked her up and down. Honestly! Did men nowadays have no manners?
She blew away a hair from her face. Well fine! If they wanted to play that game then so be it. Oh there was no doubt in her mind that she was a bit intimidated with John’s stature but she put her foot down (figuratively) and stood her ground. There was no way she would allow herself to be cowed by appearances.
“The name is Lenneth Silverlake,” the lady interjected before anymore suggestive remarks could make it out of John’s mouth, “and this cat will painfully remove your intestines with a scalpel if you eye her again.”
Well the lady certainly knew her way around threats. She’d given and heard enough of them in her travels to last her a lifetime. She turned to Brandon with a small smile, the glint in her eyes promising that she was up to nothing good.
“I suppose you’re right. I did make the biggest mess. Aren’t I just lucky that I’m not paying for it at all,” she said before she put her foot down on the chair he was sitting on. It was placed on the wood directly in between his legs and missed his crotch by a few centimeters, “make no mistake, however. If you start another brawl in my presence, I’m going after you with a hatchet. My family’s store has a reputation that must be upheld and these pointless fisticuffs degrades that reputation.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 11, 2008 2:42 am
Striker grinned only as the weak kick hit his knee. “Did you really think that would work?” He sighed and with exceptional strength he would toss the guy to the side, making him slide over a table before falling down the other side. Then he turned around and walked towards his mates, enjoying all the eyes that were pointed at him. Striker enjoyed attention more then anything else.
Men still had manners, it was just the White Fang that had the small idea that they were somehow better then most civilians. Not that they suppressed them or anything, they just looked down at them, a little. And John was also somebody who wasn’t known for his subtleties. That’s why he didn’t notice the change in attitude, nor that he offended her in anyway. That’s also why he chuckled at Lenneth’s remark about cutting off things. “Good luck with that one Brandon.” Were his final words before he patted him on the shoulder and walked off.
Brandon on the other hand, while he also looked down on normal civilians, he had a little bit more respect for them. He also saw the changes in Lenneth and just knew she wasn’t up to any good. He swallowed and chook his head as John got away. Why did he have to leave him alone like that? Suddenly he had a foot between his legs. He hadn’t heard the rest she said because he was too busy scolding at John in silence. Now he was paying attention and what she said made sense, and it didn’t. He tried to stand up so that he would get that foot out of the way. “Look, I started the brawl, I didn’t involve you, they did. So please, don’t overreact. Besides, you think you stand a chance with a hatchet or any other weapon?” He sighed. “I already promised you to show you the deck, what it’s fully capable off so, how about we go outside and I’ll show you?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 12, 2008 2:13 am
"Overreact? Are you completely without intelect?" Lenneth questioned as her foot retreated, "I did not overreact. Starting a brawl while I'm with you will certainly link me and my family's shop's reputation with you! You really ought to think about other people before you do something so impulsive. And you're a White Fang too! You should know how to strategize!"
She huffed as she crossed her arms. She was very close to throwing a glass at him and she wished again that her father had not confiscated her weapons so she could show him just how angry she was. A crashing of plates and glasses caught her attention and she looked to the side. Striker's opponent had just slid across a table. He didn't get back up.
"And see? Looks you you and your buddies DID make the biggest mess of all," she said just to get back at him. Oh yes. When Lenneth's temper got the better of her, she tended to press whatever advantage she could get her hands on.
She fumed at him when he so bluntly put that she was no match for him. Once again, she vowed that she would train harder and get the better of him. Some day, he was going to regret ever saying that to her. She gritted her teeth. This man was infuriating and arrogant! What on earth did her father had in mind when he set her up with Brandon? They were never going to get along!
She glared at him before she turned around and stepped outside. She was eager to see the cards and get the hell away from him. The faster they completed their deal, the faster she could escape from this nightmare of a date.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
