Strongjaw & The Dish

4

With a bellow, his fist rose from beneath the challenger's chin, striking hard and sending blood and saliva spewing upward like a fountain, the burly human's feet leaving the ground as he rose up and back, landing in the sands with a dusty cloud and a heavy 'whuff' of his breath driven out of his lungs.

The blood-spattered and bruised champion threw back his head and roared, the crowd shouting and cheering, the raging eyes pinpoint focused as they fell quickly on his opponent who was not moving save the weezing for breath. Sweat ran over his skin, making the dust cling there and go striped to create an alternate pattern to his ashen flesh and dark tattoos.

He had been in the ring for almost an hour, and this third challenger was good, but hardly enough to do anything to dispell the tension he had slowly acquired over the passing months. The work here was nowhere near done. He was learning more every lesson, and the ladies all knew his name and were very kind, the ale flowed free and he ought to have been happy as a lark, whatever that meant.

He had begun a very nice letter campaign with Trisha. He would dictate what he wanted to say and one of the ladies would write it down for him, then he'd copy it and send it on. Every letter back she would tell him she missed him. That he was in her dreams and the more he thought about what she was dreaming, the more his own dreams were occupied by building on her ideas. He needed to go back. Just for a little. Soon as he had defended his title, he'd do that. No other challengers seemed willing, and so he was, as usual, champion of the Crucible. The next day, he arranged to return to Whitestone.

He was feeling a weird fluttery sensation as he stepped into Whitestone again. He had faced dragons and gods and he'd felt fear plenty of times, but this was too small to be fear really. It wasn't as if he didn't think she wanted to see him. She made it pretty clear she wanted more than to see him, but he went to the usual places, and she was nowhere to be found. Nobody seemed to know where she'd gone. He headed to the castle, hoping he could at least see Percy and Vex.

The guards gave him no problems as he made his way in, walking the halls, trying to mark down interesting things for the next time he had to act as the official tour guide. As he stopped to study a new painting of the Lord and Lady of the castle, he was brought up short by a familiar voice in the hallway.

"So, you see, we've much in the way of planning accomplished, but not so much in the realm of the doing." Percy's elegant words lifted. "I do not want to expand the Riflemen beyond Whitestone, but whenever there is a great trouble, little troubles tend to follow it. Vasselheim has a great deal of work needing done there, and I worry for the rebuilding of not just the homes and businesses, but the morale of the people. I am reticent to imply that The Bastion is in any way subpar, but both an influx of new blood and new ideas would, perhaps, not go awry."

"I understand your predicament, My Lord." It was Trish! "You want to offer help, but not imply they need it. I have a few men who wouldn't mind a change in scenery for one reason or another. Some who might benefit from a ..." she seemed to be considering how to phrase something. "... a town with a less elegant atmosphere."

"I don't believe I understand." It was Percy's turn to sound confused. Their voices were drifting nearer.

"Well, if I may speak plainly, My Lord, it is known that there are certain people who, seeing others who have more than they do, are inclined to become sour over it and let it rule them rather than accept things as they are."

"Ah. I understand perfectly. Well, yes, for those type, Vasselheim is perhaps better than Whitestone." They came around the corner, Percy's arms tucked behind his back as he strolled at Trish's side. "But don't let anyone know I ever said so." The pale, bespectacled gent paused and turned to face her. "I look forward to your report on what men we can spare." He gave a nod. "I, as needs must, have many more items on my lis..." he gave a sort of uneasy half smile as he prevented himself from saying that particular word. "My agenda to check off before I am free for the day. Thank you again for your help, Trisha." He pivoted on his heel and strolled back as he'd come.