The evening starts to creep in, the long day is coming to a close. Brendmor Forsten stands looking over the town square, the traders hawking their wares, the bustle of the town still present. He glances over seeing his relief head into town following their patrol in Chetwood. Those about him notice his mood pick up, a smile crosses his face, he rolls his head breathing a sly of relief realizing his shift has finally come to an end.
Brendmor takes one last look over the square content that all is peaceful and that his refreshing ale is all that awaits him at the end of the day. He turns, venturing to his home away from home. On entering the Comb and Wattle Inn he closes his eyes breathing the musky damp smell that makes this inn his home. Spying his usual spot by the counter is free, he fills the gap without a second thought. Glancing along the counter he spies a lot of new faces though one stands out from a previous nights encounter, Sethias, a broad built man of a similar stature stood beside him.
Putting his presence to the back of his mind, he smiles, turning to Lizbeth, he beckons her over with a smile asking for his usual ale. Exchanging their usual pleasantries he settles into his ale laughing and joking away. Though this was not meant to be as one of the ladies by the bar prompted the conversation towards bar fights, with Sethias inciting the conversation further.
Noting the change in the mood of the room from the jovial atmosphere it was into a tense and awkward tone. Then in the blink of an eye, a heavily scarred lady in tattered clothing strikes. A tankard crashing down against a patrons skull, bringing her to the floor in an instant. It was then Brendmor knew his shift had once again begun. He moved, positioning himself between the two ladies attempting to diffuse the situation, given that one of them was out cold he didn't fear this would be hard.
Then, Sethias spotting an opportunity to catch Brendmor unaware, grabs a stool and hurtles over attempting to bring the stool crashing down over his head. Thankfully, Brendmor caught the rapid advance in the corner of his eyes and was able to bring his arms up to block the strike. Grunting from the pain he tries to surpass it to ram Sethias into the counter, unaware of the situation heightening further behind him with Thayalengir's arrival. Successfully driving Sethias into the counter he lunges forward hitting Sethias in the face.
Sethias then lunges out, his arms failing, legs lurching towards Brendmor. Then like the coward he was he tried to scramble over the counter top. Un-phased by the rabid attacks Brendmor caught a flailing limb, pulling Sethias back with a crash over the last solid stool by the bar. Hoping to subdue him further Brendmor kept pressing on his attack, sadly, he was knocked off balance by Sethias and was quickly brought down on to him after a collision with a fellow watcher dealing with a similar issue.
Brendmor's large frame came crashing down on to Sethias, causing both to grimace in pain. Given the softer landing Brendmor was able to wrap his arm about Sethias's neck attempting to end the fight. Sethias however, thought otherwise. Snatching at the ground for a weapon, he grabbed the leg of a barstool. It has snapped given its earlier break giving it a wicked point. Sethias struck desperately at Brendmor to make him release his grasp, many times the wood buried itself in Brendmor's thigh. Each time Brendmor's grip tightened, his only way of expressing the pain. The wooden leg came hurtling at Brendmor's neck, certainly a killing blow.
Only out of sheer luck was Brendmor moved out of the way, given the nature of Sethias' over arching swing. The wood struck him in the neck, a longer yet shallower wound than what it could have been. Brendmor released his grip in an instant, scrabbling to clutch his neck, only to see a glint of steel. He closed his eye expecting the end was upon him. Sethias then bellowed in pain as Watcher Foxwin Bramble's blade pierced his shoulder. Foxwin swung his sword menacingly to deter Sethias.
The next thing Brendmor saw was Foxwin knelt beside him pulling bandages out of his satchel. Brendmor drifted in and out of consciousness, the darkness enveloping him, he felt a lightness about him. An array of different voices came in and out of earshot. Then a searing light burnt through his eyelids, it was then he knew he was outside moving to safety.
He lay there, in the Combe Town Watch headquarters, as his friends and colleagues cleaned his wounds and put fresh bandages on. Then silence surrounded him and he only heard one hushed voice "Sleep Brend, it's all going to be alright", Foxwin was still with him.
Brendmor awoke the next morning a paler and weaker man then on his previous shift, unable to walk unassisted, Foxwin had fetched a spear as a staff. Brendmor sat in his bed then gritted his teeth and got to his feet shakily, grimacing with every move. Far from what he once was he stood there and knew he would improve.
And he knew what to do when he was.
