[Open] What happens in the Basin...
Posted: Wed Nov 07, 2018 6:37 am
The Basin | Mid-Night
11 DENTIS 2718
There was something soothing about the crack of knuckles on flesh, the chorus shouting as various masses beat each other. That paired with the cheers and hollers as bodies punched and kicked their way, the faint clink of coin and bets sounding. Off into the night the Basin was alive; buzzing with energy with the noise reaching such levels that it became almost numbing. It was here that the lesser races showed the nature the Galdori desired; that they were little more than thoughtless beasts of violence. Ironic in its own way.
But the violence of the fighting pit was not why Gale Saunders was here. Leaning up against one of the stands overlooking the ring, the smith exhaled a plume of smoke. It drifted, taste resting upon her tongue, the aroma beating back the stench of blood and sweat. The cigarette hung loosely in their lips, shoulders shrugged up into the coat, hands deep into the pockets. The green orbs flickered, moving back and forth between the bodies. A fight had just finished; the body of the defeated being dragged out and the champion of that bout announced. The momentary basking in glory before the bets were taken for the next fight. The gaze lingered briefly, moving from bookies and gamblers down to the watching faces – eager to begin.
Inhaling, smoke filled her lungs breath held for a moment as the eyes searched. He should be here, somewhere. The bruising along her gut ached, muscles tensing in the discomfort. Her teeth ground together, a sharp grunt escaping as the pain eased away. They were going to find that bastard and the people he worked for; and maybe then start getting answers.
Three days prior a brute of a man made entrance into her forge; he claimed to be carrying as task. A demand was a better description, to drop everything that needed to be done to go and play retrieval. He made it no secret on who he worked for, the we became the Gentleman – but no further information could be garnered. Gale refused and the brute showed the consequences of refusal. Bruised ribs and a bloodied nose, the hissing reminder to not take the next job so lightly.
Gale winced. The swelling had mostly gone down at this point, but it was still tender. A thick purple bruise had stretched out from the bridge and into the sockets. At least now every inhale did not feel as if it was being squeezed through, instead it was replaced by snorting through liquid. The smoke blew through her nose, heat stinging and then soothing. She sniffed, grimacing as the eyes finally settled on the target.
Bald man, tattoos along the scalp, a thick layer of stubble. He was currently with two others, drinking some bottled hooch as they watched the fights below. Internally she weighed him up in her mind. He was easily a head taller than her, strong – probably worked in one of the mills in the day. Human too, there was no prickle of a field as he entered her space and pounded her into the ground. The eyes shifted, turning to the bodies around him. There were too many witnesses, too many others in general – she would have to wait until he went off on his own. Which in turn could be any length of time.
The smith puffed, gaze shifting to the fight below. The crowd was shouting once more, the pair within locked in grapples as they struggled. Some commentator was speaking out to the crowd through a cone, voice reverberating around the Basin. The crowd wooed and wowed as one was slammed into one of the fences, the retaliation of strikes exchanged back and forth. Her gaze shifted and returned back to the target, he was still there. That was something. When he went off alone she would have to follow him, and when there was no one about-
-how am I actually going to get him to give me information?
They chewed their lip with thought.
I mean, I’m not that strong. He is a lot bigger than me. I could try and get the jump on him. Catch him off guard. He’s been drinking, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be drunk however. I need a plan.
Dropping the cigarette they snubbed it out on the ground, “Shit.”
But the violence of the fighting pit was not why Gale Saunders was here. Leaning up against one of the stands overlooking the ring, the smith exhaled a plume of smoke. It drifted, taste resting upon her tongue, the aroma beating back the stench of blood and sweat. The cigarette hung loosely in their lips, shoulders shrugged up into the coat, hands deep into the pockets. The green orbs flickered, moving back and forth between the bodies. A fight had just finished; the body of the defeated being dragged out and the champion of that bout announced. The momentary basking in glory before the bets were taken for the next fight. The gaze lingered briefly, moving from bookies and gamblers down to the watching faces – eager to begin.
Inhaling, smoke filled her lungs breath held for a moment as the eyes searched. He should be here, somewhere. The bruising along her gut ached, muscles tensing in the discomfort. Her teeth ground together, a sharp grunt escaping as the pain eased away. They were going to find that bastard and the people he worked for; and maybe then start getting answers.
Three days prior a brute of a man made entrance into her forge; he claimed to be carrying as task. A demand was a better description, to drop everything that needed to be done to go and play retrieval. He made it no secret on who he worked for, the we became the Gentleman – but no further information could be garnered. Gale refused and the brute showed the consequences of refusal. Bruised ribs and a bloodied nose, the hissing reminder to not take the next job so lightly.
Gale winced. The swelling had mostly gone down at this point, but it was still tender. A thick purple bruise had stretched out from the bridge and into the sockets. At least now every inhale did not feel as if it was being squeezed through, instead it was replaced by snorting through liquid. The smoke blew through her nose, heat stinging and then soothing. She sniffed, grimacing as the eyes finally settled on the target.
Bald man, tattoos along the scalp, a thick layer of stubble. He was currently with two others, drinking some bottled hooch as they watched the fights below. Internally she weighed him up in her mind. He was easily a head taller than her, strong – probably worked in one of the mills in the day. Human too, there was no prickle of a field as he entered her space and pounded her into the ground. The eyes shifted, turning to the bodies around him. There were too many witnesses, too many others in general – she would have to wait until he went off on his own. Which in turn could be any length of time.
The smith puffed, gaze shifting to the fight below. The crowd was shouting once more, the pair within locked in grapples as they struggled. Some commentator was speaking out to the crowd through a cone, voice reverberating around the Basin. The crowd wooed and wowed as one was slammed into one of the fences, the retaliation of strikes exchanged back and forth. Her gaze shifted and returned back to the target, he was still there. That was something. When he went off alone she would have to follow him, and when there was no one about-
-how am I actually going to get him to give me information?
They chewed their lip with thought.
I mean, I’m not that strong. He is a lot bigger than me. I could try and get the jump on him. Catch him off guard. He’s been drinking, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be drunk however. I need a plan.
Dropping the cigarette they snubbed it out on the ground, “Shit.”