"We're leaving," Quin said rather loudly.

She was busy counting out the coin she had received from the blacksmith for the surplus or sub par weapons they had taken from the mansion. Nyrette had wandered off on her own and Quin was beginning to have a similar urge. Cheshik was still wandering through the racks of glistening weapons on display, but Cynthia stood with her at the side of the sprawling stone building where the forge lay open to the air. Iisska was leaning over the low stone wall that kept buyers and sellers away from works in progress, the flames, acids and oils. He had managed to catch a burly and charred apprentice's attention and was currently pelting him with a myriad of questions about what they were doing, what materials they were using, how metals were shaped with only fire and a hammer like that, what sort of noxious liquids were in the troughs and anything else he didn't understand. The apprentice, never having experience with outlanders had a slew of his own questions. They rattled off question and answer back and forth in fast excited voices and completely ignored Quin.

"Excuse me, I said we're ready to go," she walked right up to them, "There's more to see."

"I'll be fine," Iisska waved her off, "Less people here and I'm having a conversation. Thanks."

"You sure? There's a ton of food in the stalls and more alcohol than I've ever seen crammed into such a small area. Might find some interesting oddities..." she tried again.

"Come get me in a couple hours," he shrugged.

"Alright," she said, "But Kobel stays with you. I can't be held responsible for him. And, Iisska, know that I will be hell to pay should you get yourself into trouble of any kind."

"Yes ma'am," he saluted as she walked off.

Cheshik insisted that they leave without him as well. He still had some admiring and shopping of his own to do here. The two women took back to the crowded main roads to browse wares, seek out other supplies, find a good meal, and a place to sleep.


[hr]


Entranced by something that smelled like it had wafted down from heaven, the two of them began to wander through the shoppers looking for something to eat. The shoppers quickly got out of their way wherever they went. The slack-jawed staring never stopped though. Torn between the allure of food and the discomfort of being strange visitors in a strange land, the pair soon found themselves wandering onto less busy paths. Which soon turned into vacant paths. Then rather dark and scary and much too quiet paths.

“You remember how to get back? Yeah?” Iisska asked Cheshik.

“I have not payed attention. Was lost in fantasy of sexy food. We are lost.” He shrugged.

“Sexy food? No. I don’t need to know,” he sighed, “Okay well maybe…”

“My, my. Now that there is something you don’t see every day.”

Iisska snapped around to see a rat-like little man standing in the doorway to a large warehouse. A small group of other men slipped in behind him, talking in hushed voices among themselves. The man began to approach.

“Outlanders,” he hummed.

“Yeah, yeah. Get it out your system,” Iisska rolled his eyes.

“Outlanders who look like they can handle themselves,” the man grinned, “You two wouldn’t be interested in making a little money, would ya? Easy money.”

Iisska looked up at Cheshik then back at the man. He was stiffening up. Before he was about to speak they heard the very muffled, but nearby roar of a crowd. Shouting and screaming en masse that took some long seconds to die down to a soft burble again. The little man was still smiling that jagged smile.

“I… Don’t know?” Iisska winced, “What’s the catch?”

“Oh, boys, boys,” the man laughed, “No catch. My, eh, associates and I run a bit of a, eh, sports club. Mostly legal, mind you. You two step in, bust up a few faces, put on a show for the patrons, and take a percentage of the earnings if you come out on top. Simple.”

“Bust a few faces?” Iisska mimicked, “You mean a fight?”

“‘Sporting event,’” the man corrected him and nodded.

“I dunno. This sounds…”

“No weapons, no dirty fighting, well as well as can be helped, just one on one until someone taps out or goes down.”

Iisska looked back up at Cheshik and fiddled with the end of a lekku.

“I can tell you now, he won’t have no problem,” the man nodded at Cheshik, “Easy money, I promise. You two just need to get the gold flowing.”

“Alright. Fine,” Iisska blurted out, “I guess I need exercise.”

“That’s a good man… thing,” the man slapped him on the shoulder and lead them through the doors.

Once inside the pair were lead down a long flight of dark stairs into a cellar. A massive cellar. What once probably stored several seasons worth of grain harvest was now home to a makeshift sort of arena, completely encircled by enraged spectators. The noise was deafening. The smell was nauseating. The air was hard to breath. Torches lit the edges of the large room and a single shaft of bright sunlight from the warehouse above descended upon the ring in the center.

“Just got a couple hopefuls ahead of you boys now. Let's get you checked in with the bookies,” the man hummed just under the cacophony of yelling.

While he chit chatted away with one of his colleagues, Iisska found himself growing even more nervous in this place. The strange sideways looks from the locals became worse, only being pulled away once the next fight was announced. Men packed around the ring and Iisska rose up on his toes to get a better look. 

Two men stood inside the ring on opposite sides. One was large, muscular and heavy. His wrapped fists resembled something that would be more at home on a club rather than a human arm. Of course his arms were as big around as most people’s legs. He stretched and flexed and laughed with his posse on the other side of the ring. His opponent looked like he was in for a bad time. A wiry, sweat-soaked, cut and bruised young man snorted a glob of blood out of his nose into the dirt and rolled out his neck. Though muscular he had no sort of bulk on him. He leaned in close to a friend and the two talked quietly into the other’s ear. Then the referee pulled them into the center. The large one bumped his fists together, grinned and postured as he looked down on the other. The thin one smirked back and shook his hands out. With the drop of a hand and a shout, the fight was started.

The big man went in hard with a right hook that missed. His opponent had back stepped just out of reach and watched him like a hawk with his hands up and loose. Again he charged in with relentless aggression. One, two, jab. Miss, miss, miss. The smaller man circled around to his side with effortless footwork. The big brute threw his arms up and insulted the other who did not react.

“This kid is gonna get himself killed,” Iisska sighed.

Cheshik placed a hand on Iisska’s shoulder. “If you fight him. You will break him.”

“Don’t think I’m gonna to get to,” Iisska shook his head, “He hasn’t throw even one--”

The brute dove in at the flighty little boxer with a heavy haymaker and missed him by a hair, throwing his body forward. The slender ginger locked up and snapped back in with a straight jab. [i]CRACK![/i] His fist connected with the man’s face so hard a vibration could be felt around the ring. The brute collapsed on the ground like a butchered pig.

“... P- punch,” Iisska gasped.

The bloodthirsty, profane, earsplitting howling that erupted made them wince. There was booing and hissing and scuffling in the crowd. The ref declared the winner and the wiry boxer went back to chatting with his friend.

“O-Ohh my…” Cheshik whispered. “That is very...um.”

“Shiiiiit,” Iisska pulled his hands down his face, “No, it’s okay. I can handle him. I’ve got Zen’s training. It’s fine. It’s fine. Just a fight. Will be okay…” he continued to mumble to himself.

Only minutes later he found himself stepping into the ring absentmindedly wrapping his fists in cloth that looked like it had been pulled from a hospital waste bin. Easy money, they said. Just a sporting event, they said. His nose hurt just thinking about that blow. [i]Snap out of it![/i] He shook his head and took a deep breath. He was going to beat this kid to a pulp, just like he did to anyone else who messed with him. Iisska handed Cheshik his jacket, unzipped his shirt and handed that over too. He drove a fist into his open palm and cracked his neck.

“This guy’s goin’ to downtown painsville,” he growled.

“He is when I am done with him,” Cheshik smiled.

“What? Oh come on I can take him out. Have some faith,” Iisska pouted.

“Oh do not worry. Cheshik will take him out.” He chuckled.

“Damn it! I can do this! Back me up or--” Iisska’s eyes snapped open wide as something dawned on him. He stared at Cheshik for several long seconds like he had just stumbled over something completely disturbing. Then he cleared his throat and turned away.

Money was being passed around to the bookies in a frantic fury. While Iisska stretched, he caught the ginger glaring at him. Unyielding, unbroken, dominant, glaring. He wanted to stare him down and remain on top but now all he could think about was very… compromising things. Iisska couldn’t help it. He broke. And started giggling and snorting. He had to cover up his mouth and take deep breaths to calm down and get back into a sparring mindset. On the bright side he felt better now.

The ref pulled the two of them together. Things were starting to slow down. Noises were starting to fade out and Cheshik placed twenty gold on them both knocking each other out.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHAOkDamRzU]“FIGHT!”[/url]

“Come on pretty boy. Bring it on. My brother wants you for a sleeve.” Iisska taunted alongside a hand gesture, egging the young man into throwing the first punch, but to no avail. They circled each other slowly, sizing one another up. The crowd watched in anticipation as they inched closer and closer to one another before Iisska went on the offensive and threw an unpracticed hook at the ginger’s prettyboy face. 

The ginger ducked out of the way, as if entirely predicting the move, and delivered a strong jab into Iisska’s ribs and uppercut his jaw, sending him reeling backwards. “Why you little…” Iisska charged again and threw the same hook, which the ginger was prepared for, but Iisska pulled at the last second, faking the Ginger out and clocking him in the jaw, followed up by a double handed slam to the ginger’s head and a knee to the nose. Ginger fell backwards onto the dirt, much to the crowds applause and anger, before rolling onto his hands and springing back onto his feet, retaliating almost immediately and bearing down on Iisska with several unorthodox punches and kicks, sending the Togruta backwards in a haphazard and failed defense. Ginger finished the vicious combo by grabbing Iisska by his horns and slamming his face onto the ginger’s knee not once, but twice before standing him upright and pulling back for a haymaker to knock Iisska out, but the Togruta was having none of it. Iisska pulled back for one of his own.

The two put everything they had into one another’s punches and both connected on one another’s faces. Everything went black for both of them.

Cheshik meanwhile won at least three hundred gold.