#Lore24 – Entry #131 – Muckenmyre Month #10 – Harsh Discipline at The Bloated Floater
From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.
As I attempted to express the council’s lack of interest in the glassware to the merchant, there came shouts from the Bloated Floater. Though I had not been to the dockside bar myself, I was aware of its reputation for being a place for sailors, and that it was not for the faint of heart; the owner, a dwarf by the name of Hafus Blackjaw, had something of a reputation involving his pet crocodiles, and though I was not privy to the details yet, I could certainly guess. There were a larger than usual number of ships in the port this day, and as I would soon find out, some of the crews of these vessels were not on friendly terms.
It was the crashing of wood, followed by a loud battle cry that drew our attention to the bar. A moment later a dozen sailors ran out, and the sounds of broken glass, more snapping wood, and angry shouting followed. A few more stragglers ran out, one with a bleeding head staggered out, only to be pulled back in by a muscular orcish arm. The mayor commanded some of those gathered to seek out the constable and some of the town watch and hurried toward the bar. I followed, though he tried to dissuade me from getting involved. I shook my head and continued alongside him, a few other council members following us. As kind as he had been to me, I would not allow harm to come to him if I could possibly stop it; it was my duty in a way, or at least, I considered it to be so.
Another bleeding man came crashing through a window as we approached, and the sound of battle within was intense. The mayor called out for an immediate halt to the fight as he entered the front doors, but as I entered, I could see that there was little hope he’d even been heard, and none that anyone involved would have listened. As Mayor Pleasence again tried to shout down the fury of two dozen drunken sailors, one of them hurled a bottle toward him.
I reacted without thought, caught the bottle before any damage was done. I heard one of the councilmen gasp in surprise. In the next moment, I shoved him away from us while forcing the mayor aside as a tabletop was flung at us. Though I felt little in the way of anger, I could see the mayor was outraged, and had already set himself to get involved. Given the fact that I’d seen him practicing his swordplay several times now, it was hardly unexpected. As I caught his eye, I nodded my understanding and led the way into the chaos; better to let them focus on me first.
It was my first battle in some time, and I was perhaps a bit out of practice despite the exercises I performed daily with Satella. I only managed to disable three of the sailors during my initial attack, catching the first in a nerve cluster on his back with a strike that left him whimpering upon the floor, while I struck his companion with a kick that shattered his knee, while I caught the third with a flurry of quick strikes to disorient him, then landed a solid punch to his gut that had him doubled over on the floor. I managed to deflect several poorly aimed strikes from fists and improvised weapons from others as I stepped back to provide cover for the mayor, caught a few blows myself, but the blows were hardly anything for me to worry about.
The mayor was not skilled in the Arts as I am, but he was no stranger to brawling. He dealt with several in his own way as I continued to provide cover and strike as opportunities permitted, leaving many broken bones and painful nerve strikes in my wake. I probably took as many blows as I landed, none that were terribly serious, though, the worst being a broken rib as I stepped in front of an enraged orc and blocked a blow to the mayor’s head from the table leg he had been wielding as a club. I then took it from him, struck a blow that knocked out several teeth, and proceeded to break both of his arms and one knee. It has been my experience that orcs do not go down easily when angry, so one must be thorough, doubly so when they’re also drunk.
The fight had mostly left the remaining dozen or so sailors by this point; the arrival of the constable and a half dozen of the town watch helped settle their ire further as they looked upon the many disabled fighters on the bar’s floor. Though I remained watchful, I had little doubt there would be further trouble as I gazed at them and watched them shrink away from my glare. With the watch moving in to secure the troublemakers, I noticed that Satella had followed them, and had leaned in through the front door, smiling pleasantly as she took in the scene. She came in, stepping over the destruction, atop one of the unlucky sailors who lay groaning on the floor, to my side.
The mayor declined Satella’s offer to heal him, said that his wounds were not so serious, but I could tell he was nursing a broken rib of his own, and his head had a nasty gash from a broken bottle that I had not managed to intercept in time. Feeling that I had failed in some way, knowing that allowing my charge to be wounded was not acceptable for a member of the Stellae Illustris, I nonetheless offered to heal him myself. He was surprised that I had suggested it, as I hadn’t told him I possessed such abilities. I assured him he would not feel the same agony as one would when healed by Yurisaya. He agreed, and I placed one hand upon his torso, the other over his head wound, and called upon the magic I had been taught by the Stellae Illustris.
It was indeed healing, of a sort. I felt the skin on my brow tear open as if it was I who had been struck by the bottle, felt another two ribs break. My vision blurred momentarily as his pain flowed into me, my breathing becoming labored, but I did not make a sound aside from a grunt. The mayor seemed more disturbed by this than the prospect of Satella’s healing as I eased myself into a nearby seat. The wounds would heal eventually, faster than natural healing, but it would still take a few days.
Satella had other ideas, though; she lay her hand upon my shoulder and uttered a healing prayer, and I felt the fiery healing of Yurisaya erupt through me. I did gasp then, my broken ribs resetting themselves, my flesh feeling as though it was being flensed by a razor as it knitted together. As the merciful agony began to fade, I thanked her, and as the mayor fixed me with a quizzical look, I assured him that I would answer any questions he had when there was time.
For now we picked ourselves up and spoke to Blackjaw about what had transpired within his bar. He’d spent most of the brawl safely behind his bar, and was quite vocal about who was ultimately responsible for getting the sailors riled up: “’Twas a pair of mazoku wenches, it was! One of them red, the other blue, flirting with one man after another, using their damned demon charms on them, they did! Wasn’t five minutes passed after they had shook their asses through my bar that the fighting started! ‘Twas the twin twats from Tempest Tor!”