Found another RP I did with Gomrin in some tucked away word-file. Its about a random fight between some of his own men while they are traveling. Enjoy!
Ruff!-necks struggling
Somewhere on the road towards Coness quite close to a rundown roadside inn. Some would argue it all happened in the inn but hey.. this is my version of how it went down.
It was just after midday, the sun just beyond it's apex and the shadows were still minimal in its rays. You could actually see the sun again for it had snowed for a full day the day before. The land coated in fresh snow, the sticky variety. It dusted gently on the trees and the alleged doghouse that was supposed to be near the entrance of the inn was nowhere to be seen. It was all white.
During summer the small lake near the Inn would be a perfect place to sit down and relax, fish perhaps and definately bathe. At this time of year, not so much. It was currently hidden by the snow and most quite thick with ice. It did however present the perfect and naturally formed 'ring'. Gomrin had told his men to take an hour's worth of rest before they'd continue traveling. Rough men and an inn should mix quite well, were it not for the regular patrons that inhabited the inn.
It didn't take long before a fistfight erupted indoors and destroyed several pieces of furniture. It was dealt with quickly however as Gomrin in a battlefield voice roared at them and smashed their faces in with the nearest object at hand. Which just happened to be a broom and a tankard of tin. The cheap ale that resided in the tankard now dripping down the dazed man's face and chest onto the floor. The other combatant was rubbing a new bruise on the back of his head. ''Out!'' Gomrin growled at them. ''Out and settle it there! Boys! there's a match upcoming!'' he said with in a crudely inviting tone which still easily carried in the Inn.
As Gomrin personally ushered the two previous combatants out of the Inn and onto the snow covered ice of the small lake a stream of people followed them. His own men of course but also the other patrons who were more than eager to see some soldiers bash eachother's faces in. Even the Innkeeper himself who was less than happy that his daughter insisted on joining him. The crowd easily fanned out on the ice and formed a circle. Their feeting making short work of the fresh snow and quickly stamped it solid.
The two troublemakers found themselves in the center of the man-made arena and eyed one-another for a moment as the realization sunk into their brains that they would probably be fighting for this weeks wages. The man that lost would most likely loose his pay entirely. Gomrin was not a forgiving man they knew.
The first was a tall and solidly build man who obviously had spend a conciderable amount of time as a lumberjack, forester and probably banditry. He had well developed arms and a powerful neck with thick cords of muscle. His eyes were a bit too close to eachother and his nose flat on his face, broken one time too many.
He wore a scruffy beard that was untended for quite a while and his face was framed by long strands of dark brown hair that fell all around his head. His opponent was a short and stocky man, a beard that naturally curled was the first thing you would notice about him and then his wide shoulders. He was a guardsman in a previous life who got bored of village life and had signed up with Gomrin. He had keen eyes and a temper that scared away a she bear once, or so he claimed himself.
The crowd was getting excited as several of Gomrin's men started to take bets and did so quite vocally. The very act inspired sneers, boasts and claim from friends of both of the fighters in the arena. It all lulled as Gomrin started talking though. ''Shut it you miserable !@#$s!'' He cast a dangerous glance about the group. ''For breaking the rules of Hospitality these two men will fight for your enjoyment!'' Gomrin said with much sarcasm and in a rough voice at that. ''Whoever loses will not get paid this week, that should teach you.'' As he finished his sentence he gaze fell on the two men about to fight. In a louder voice he added ''And with the coin of the other I'll buy you all drinks until its all spend!'' The crowed roared in approval, even Gomrin's own men but a few of them looked cautious, they probably knew that they made some mistakes yet to be discovered by their leader.
The fight that ensued was much like rabbit dogs over a meal, both men didn't want to loose a week's worth of pay and they disliked one another already before that fact. The tall one of the two fighters, the ex-lumberjack delivered a jaw breaking punch to the shorter man that went off his feet and into the air, he landed badly and was sprawled on the ice and snow. The tall man threw up his arms and cheered wihth got him much vocal praise from the crowd but granted the stocky one time to recover. Rage burning his eyes and his teeth bare. He rushed the tall one and crashed violently into him. Slaming his shoulder into the tall one's stumoach. Eyes bulging the Tall one went down but not before he grabbed a fistful of the short one's hair. They went down together and the short one struggled against the hold with his face burried in the Tall ones chest. Driving punches home to the Tall one's chest and gut.
Several of the Tall one's friends looked worried and gave ample of advice. The friends of the short one cheering and throwing abuse to the friends of the Tall one.
A fistful of hair rose and lifted the stocky one's face up and he could see the crowd for a moment, then the crowed blurred and he heard a wet splat! The crowd made anguished faces as they imagined the pain and saw the red mess that was the stocky one's nose and face. Splat! the world was blurred and his ears rung as his face smashed against the Ice again. He managed to break free of the hold though and was staggering backwards as much as he could. In reality he was crawling.
The Tall one was getting up from his feet but gingerly felt his gut as he had difficulty standing errect. They looked at one another for a long moment and then the stocky one made a lumbering rush that looked pathetic. The tall one flinched from it as he tried to shield his stumoach with his thick right arm but easily blocked the weak punches the stocky man threw at him. Both of them breathing hard and were weak on their feet. The tall one made a lousy feint, he arched his left arm for a punch but made a quick jab. He intended a quick jab but instead both of them got in a tangle as the stocky one countered with a grapple that saw them both crash down onto the ice.
The people were roaring their approval of the fight and much of the ice in the ring was now stained with patches of blood. Both fighters were panting like dogs and their hair was slick against their skulls. The short one managed to straddle the tall one but didn't have his hands free to assault his opponent as he was busy keeping him down. He arched his back and threw his head back in a desperate move. His fingers clenched his opponent and with all his might tried to keep him from wiggling out of the way. Down came his head and with a crunchy sound, a splash of red the two skulls connected. The Tall one lay still and the people cheered their lungs out. The short one sat up for a moment and then fell to the side, exhausted. His face caked with not only his own blood, some of it drying. But also the fresh blood of the Tall one. His nose now also broken and his heart very much out of the fight.
Gomrin shrugged as he watched the fight. ''It's drinking time!'' he shouted over the crowd and walked towards the Inn. His gaze meeting his Luitenant Ulf's and the man understood. Ulf went to the two fighters and helped them up and made sure they were alright.
