Fight Guild

Your eyes swept over the burnished metal of spear, shield, armour, and hoof of the Mercenary Centaur woman before you. Experienced eyes spoke to you of the way in which the metal shone, care taken almost to an obsessive amount, even as her body hair hung lush and luxurious. Clear burrs and tangles within said hair, but that was only a small amount compared to what should have been for a centaur all alone. The fact was too much of this care was simply too good for someone who would have had difficulty putting on and taking off the armour alone, even if it was somehow bespelled to stay shiny and clean.

Even from here she would have smelled of the usual thick musk of larger living beasts. A scent absent in any appreciable amount, clearly organized of frequent baths, and good deodorant of some kind or another. Clearly a scion of one of the more civilized enclaves of monster kind.

In itself that was worrying.

What worried you more was how strong she seemed.

The clues it seemed, added up to someone who was born and raised as a powerful warrior, who’d evolved through the processes which Monster kind were want, into a Ber classed fighter, nurtured and taught how to evoke the appearance of, and the trappings of the classical Armoured killers of humanity’s own. Royalty nurtured Knights to be their deft hand. Adventurers were the trouble shooters, but a country pulled together a powerful knight’s core, and equipped them with armaments which would make strong monsters think twice.

But in all cases such killers were expensive endeavors.

There was a story here behind her that went far beyond a simple search to act as mercenary for one side or another in a coming conflict, whom ever it was that she’d ‘earned’ her right to leave from were likely powerful and advanced, and had either Dwarven or Oni smiths on their payrolls. And beyond that, some of that story also spoke of her having some kind of helper whom you’d yet to see, likely kept in reserve for if this were to turn sour and our relatively friendly encounter were to become a clash.

An annoyingly wise action.

“So a price to be named huh?” You make a show of looking her over, letting your eyes scan her form in the most obvious manner you could manage without dipping into the obscene. “You do seem worth quite a bit in truth. But I think that a little test is in order for me to properly gauge that worth. My body-guard seems like he would be a good match to see what your strength is like. Are you up for such a challenge?”

You pointed to the man standing behind her like a silent statue, his usually jovial face having pulled into a tightly grim visage which made him seem intimidating in a way that few would ever believe unless they’d previously seen him in action. You glanced back at the Centaur maiden, watching as she made a single glance back towards Skan, then nodded in the affirmative, bouncing golden tresses from her shoulders in the motion.

“If this is what is to be required.” She allowed, heavy hooves clopping against the floor as she turned almost clumsily toward the powerful adventurer at her back.

“Not in here you won’t.” Sarah piped up chidingly from behind the Tavern counter, a platter full of drink balanced in one hand as she walked past, putting a preferred drink in the hands of each person she passed. “Outside is where you all can brawl, I’m not fixing any furniture in here.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the stink eye she shot you. Though really she’d simple voiced the sentiment before you’d been ready to make the call yourself. You took the cigarette from your lips to puff away some smoke, and take a light sip of your evening tea.

It didn’t take long at all for everyone to be crowded out of the Tavern, and over to the mostly disused training field just out back. A chalked area marked out where the sparring duel would take place.

“I’ll have to insist you don’t go too easy on me.” The barbarian bodyguard finally cracked a smile, his white teeth actually gleaming in the sunlight. “I’d rather not have a fight that is too easy. Afterall, how else will my old bones get some proper practice in?”

“I doubt that I will measure up too highly to your standards.” The centauress demurred, front hoof stomping slightly and kicking up a small clump of dirt. “But none the less I shall hold little back. Please accept my meager attempts at matching you strength for strength.”

The red-headed barbarian seemed to get a chuckle out of that as both he and his opponent drew out their weapons with the sound of a metallic tang filling the air.

The air fell silent as both shifted their feet to take stance.

The centaur ground her heavy hooves into the ground shifting her knees just enough that she looked entirely ready to launch herself forward at any given moment. Her upper body leaned forward, allowing her to present a lower profile and guard more of her body potentially with her shield, which now she held ahead of her with her ornate lance at its side pointed forward. The red-haired Barbarian stood his ground solidly, seeming almost unflappable as the naked deep red of his own blade seemed to simply be as an extension of the arm which held it, his wide stance almost a challenge in its presentation.

A moment passed.

And another.

More seconds ticked down as both opponents searched each other for even the slightest hint of an advantage.

And then it happened.

You barely even saw when the centaur-maiden, had stopped simply standing poised and low… and simply sprung into dire action. An errant missile loosed from a bow, she flung herself forward like madness, and driving forward the powerful lance to further extend her advantage of both reach and power.

Skan leaned out of the way, narrowly avoiding the lance’s tip and edge even as he spun with the attempted follow up blow via the shield, fending it away with a light clash from his sword, even as she landed from her launch, directly onto her powerful front legs. Planting both of them to hault her weight and shift her momentum, Bryn pushed down, twisting her body such the energy of her leap became the load onto the spring of her front legs, allowing her to arch her spine and in a single smooth motion twist her hindquarters to deal a devastating kick to the powerful red-head’s chest.

Hard metal rung against hard metal, all but pulling Skan from his feet, but not even as he reeled from the force he managed to keep his footing. He grimaced as he stood up straight, looking at his opponent again, with a critical eye.

“Ah.” She spoke up, shifting into another stance. “I believe I have severely injured others with such a kick before. You are quite sturdy sir.”

A smile passed along the Berserker's lips. "Indeed, I've had gentler kicks from a dragon."