It wasn’t technically his fault, nor did he start it, but by the gods he was finishing it.
The night had been one to remember, though he'd never be able to. Too much drinks and party favours had rolled in soon after. It had started innocently, but that was always how things wold begin, recklessness ensued and eventually a fight had broken out. About what exactly, Ruth had no idea, but when someone smacked him in the back of the head with a bottle he’d given up caring. Even with his height, Ruth was able to smack down a few of the brawling idiots, years of tagging along with a group of Mercenaries serving him well enough to keep mostly from being taken out.
The fight spilled out from the tavern, into the street. Then some idiot decided that since there was no threat of destroying the drinking hole, cast a blast to knock back a few of the still warring bodies. Ruth sprung into action, tackling the bastard who’d now raised the stakes.
“That’s Fuckin’. CHEATING!” he’d yell between throwing a fist to the man's face once on the ground. Did people not know the rules of fight club? He’d only get another two punches in before he too was tackled off the man by another pair of hands. Ruth became like a cat, body twisting in the unknown grasp, managing to get himself free, to only find himself in someones elses grasp. This pair of hands were far more steady, sure in yanking him out of trouble. He still struggled, even if it were a moot effort in his inebriated state and the solid firmness at his collar.
“Geet off! Lemme go! I can keep this up, you nug-humping fuckers!” he'd yell back to the group, tugging himself forward despite leashed.
The night had been one to remember, though he'd never be able to. Too much drinks and party favours had rolled in soon after. It had started innocently, but that was always how things wold begin, recklessness ensued and eventually a fight had broken out. About what exactly, Ruth had no idea, but when someone smacked him in the back of the head with a bottle he’d given up caring. Even with his height, Ruth was able to smack down a few of the brawling idiots, years of tagging along with a group of Mercenaries serving him well enough to keep mostly from being taken out.
The fight spilled out from the tavern, into the street. Then some idiot decided that since there was no threat of destroying the drinking hole, cast a blast to knock back a few of the still warring bodies. Ruth sprung into action, tackling the bastard who’d now raised the stakes.
“That’s Fuckin’. CHEATING!” he’d yell between throwing a fist to the man's face once on the ground. Did people not know the rules of fight club? He’d only get another two punches in before he too was tackled off the man by another pair of hands. Ruth became like a cat, body twisting in the unknown grasp, managing to get himself free, to only find himself in someones elses grasp. This pair of hands were far more steady, sure in yanking him out of trouble. He still struggled, even if it were a moot effort in his inebriated state and the solid firmness at his collar.
“Geet off! Lemme go! I can keep this up, you nug-humping fuckers!” he'd yell back to the group, tugging himself forward despite leashed.
12-21-2023, 12:45 PM
