Fiske rubbed his eyes with his clawed fist as he exited the small doorway of the ‘Drunken Juggler’ tavern and the sunlight hit his face. He blinked several times trying to clear the fog from his head as he at the same time began to rummage around his bag for the familiar cool feel of his flask, passing over the many other objects in his bag before locating it and pulling it out with a small grin on his face.
Today seemed the same as any other in the Tavern, he and the other few drunkards who stayed there rousing just before midday after the previous evening’s frivolities and mischief. Today though Fiske felt slightly restless for some reason unknown to him and decided to instead of beginning the days drinking at the Tavern as he usually did, he would wander the streets and see what was going on in the city of Bitewind and maybe even the surrounding area.
After only moments of wandering the great walled city his attention was drawn to the old half ruined temple where the most bizarre spectacle was rapidly unfolding in the street – the large throng of onlookers catching his eye initially before he witnessed an odd looking human take on a Wall-Watcher single handed, before then continuing to fight as more of them arrived to aid their wounded comrade.
Fiske’s jaw dropped slightly at the impression the man’s skills left upon him as he easily defeated not two, but three and then four Wall-Watchers in a row without taking a scratch himself. Fiske also noted as he took a swig of the strong dwarven spirit that each of the men defeated was done so in a way that he was not hurt fatally – a cut here and there and maybe a broken or bruised limb or two, but nothing that time wouldn’t fix.
As he watched Fiske instinctively pulled up his hood and made his way behind the gathering of people and across to the opening of an alleyway between two buildings where he spotted Old Gareth, one of the few homeless people who lived within the walls of Bitewind, the homeless man was also watching the unfolding spectacle with wide eyes as Fiske came and sat beside him, taking a swig of his flask before offering it to the other man.
“Fiske” mumbled the man in greeting, his bloodshot eyes not leaving the fighting stranger as he accepted the flask and took several large swigs. “First fight I seen in years, if you’d believe it” Gareth said in his deep crackly voice before handing the flask back.
“What did he do?” Fiske asked curiously, expecting the man to be either wanted or to have just committed a crime to warrant such an aggressive attack from the guards.
“Notin” Garth responded as the stranger dispatched another guard with ease as a group of three charged him “He jus talked to him, was all I saw anyway an then the fightin started”.
The pair then remained silent, the only sound being the occasional swigs they took as they passed the flask back and forth between them, enjoying each moment of the impressive combat unfolding, that was up until the point where suddenly the man was hit in the face and fell down onto the ground dramatically. Initially Fiske was shocked that he had been struck with the way he had been moving so flawlessly only moments ago, until it dawned upon him that the man had actually let the Watchers gain the upper hand and arrest him for whatever unknown reason.
As if to solidify this, the man then burst out laughing almost hysterically so as he was bound and dragged away. Fiske scratched at his head before he cocked it slightly, unsure as to exactly what was happening “Why would one do this?” Fiske asked out loud – more to himself than anyone else.
Gareth was now giggling along with the man and several others watching as the strong spirit started to make its way into his system and took no notice, nor did he seem to notice as the man turned his head to stare back at the gathering of people and utter the words “Help me.”
These words seemed louder and clearer to Fiske than if the strange man had been stood next to him, his piercing luminescent eyes appearing to look directly at him, and he felt like something was definitely odd as others around hadn’t appeared to hear this request either. Fiske stood and took a few steps forward subconsciously as he watched the Wall-Watchers drag him away from the broken temple, past where Fiske was stood and towards the dreaded Bitewind dungeons to receive whatever fate awaited him.
Once the man was out of sight Fiske continued to stare for a few moments before Gareth recovered from his laughing fit and poked at the Lizard-man’s leg causing him to once more shift his attention to the homeless man. “Ey Fiske, that was the best show I’ve seen since… well since I can remember. People don’t cause no trouble here you know?” he said as his eyes darted back to the flask still resting in Fiske’s hands.
Fiske grinned and shook his head before returning to his sitting position next to the man and passing the flask over again. They talked for a little while about the strange man’s appearance and manner – as the crowd began to slowly disperse from where they had been watching. By the time they had talked the fight over several times Gareth seemed to be thoroughly drunk and Fiske was beginning to feel the familiar warmth and happiness spread through his system as he removed a small thin pipe carved from wood, the small lizards carved up and down the shaft always making him smile as he packed in a small amount of dried herbs that he had collected the previous week, and lit it with a small match before inhaling deeply.