The Mimic in Monsterland

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Fennel yelled out at the brigand, stretching his arm out. Fennel caught the Minotauran man’s next strike with his hand, throwing it to the side. He stopped the fist just inches before it collided with the whimpering elderly man.

The Minotauran snorted as he regained his composure. “Get lost pup. You’re out of your depth here. That street scum owes my boss money. And you really don’t want to get in the way of my boss and his money. So run along now. Find yourself a playmate back on main street.” He cracked his knuckles as he spoke and wore a nasty smile.

Fennel looked down at the cowering man on the ground. He had gray matted fur around his face. Drunk and dumb. But that didn’t mean he deserved a throttling. Fennel addressed the large man. “You can’t honestly expect him to have that money, do you? What? You just gonna beat him and hope coins start falling out?”

The man laughed. “Boyo, you’d be surprised how often that happens.” The brute cracked his neck. “So what are you gunna do? Pay it for him or is this turning ugly?” His smile became increasingly sinister.

Fennel widened his stance. The Minotauran was a good foot and a half taller than him, but he sparred with Zaner plenty. And Zaner was bigger than this guy.

“Alright then.” The man said just before charging forward, fist raised. Fennel dropped his hips, reading himself for the blow. The man’s fist came hurtling down, Fennel raised his guard to block. Pain flared in his stomach. He coughed out some spit.

His horned opponent’s unraised fist landed in Fennel’s gut. The windup was a feint. The Mino's smile grew larger when he noticed Fennel’s guard drop. He unleashed a blow on the side of Fennel’s face with the fist used in the feint.

But Fennel stood strong.

Fennel’s eyes stared into his foe’s. The man’s smile wavered for a moment. He wasn’t sure why. He threw a few more punches at Fennel’s face. None of them made Fennel so much as flinch. He was pretty sure he saw a grin on the dwarf’s face.

Fennel grabbed the large man’s leg and, with a grunt, squeezed with all his might. The man’s leg popped. Fennel squatted down. “AGH!”

And with a shout the entire Gloom could hear, he threw the man over his head. The Minotauran’s body hit the stone path with a concerning thud. The man recovered quickly and stood back up. Red light glinted in the Minotauran’s eyes.

He rushed Fennel again, no feints or tricks this time. Just pure brute strength haymakers. Which Fennel returned in kind. The two entered into a slugfest.

But whereas each of the Minotauran’s blows aimed for Fennel’s head, Fennel couldn’t quite reach that high, so he swung at every other body part he could. Fennel evaded a fist coming for his eye, landing a punch in the man’s side. Then another dead center of the man’s stomach. His foe struck out landing a glancing blow on Fennel’s chin. Fennel dropped an elbow on the top of the man’s bent knee in return. The same leg that he was certain popped out of place a moment ago.

Fennel landed blow after blow on the man’s torso, back, legs, knees, all the while dodging most of the Mino’s hits. Fennel’s goal was to paint the scum’s body black and blue. That was all he needed to do. All he had to do was outlast the thug. Something Boundless would ensure.

After a few minutes of the high intensity brawl, His opponent hopped back. He screamed in rage, completely unintelligible now. He lowered his head, dropping his horns down to Fennel’s height. Red Aura surrounded the MInotauran.

Full Body Charge if I had to guess. Fennel knew the technique, common among the bulls. It was a last ditch effort he saw Zaner use only once. The ability speared right through two Tusxics and a Lenid a couple raids back.

Fennel slowed his breathing, planting his feet into the ground. His eyes focused on the pissed off bull in front of him with unparalleled concentration. He spread his arms wide open.

The man took that as a sign. He blasted off from his spot, kicking up the stones on the path. Before the stones even fell back to the ground, he was less than a yard away from Fennel. However, Fennel never lost sight of his opponent. He raised one of his fists.

With horns now inches away from Fennel’s face, he dropped the fist into the back of the man’s skull while twisting out of the way of his charge.

The Minotauran’s face slammed into the stone street, sliding along it a few feet before stopping when he collided with the side of a building. One of the man’s horns flew right after the impact. Fennel winced.

“Maybe a little too much.” He didn’t see the man’s body move for a solid thirty seconds. “Yep, too much.”

Fennel walked up to the limp body he created, noticing a slight heave in the man’s back. “Oh, he’s breathing. Tough guy. Why are you wasting your time out here, beating old folks? You’d make a great raid soldier. Probably get paid better too.”

“Phffuq you.” A rasp came from the one horned man.

Fennel sighed. He bent over and sat the now passed-out man back up. He leaned him up against the cracked wall. The man’s face was gnarled from the skid. Fennel ripped the shirt sleeves of his defeated foe and wrapped it around the wounds. He got up and walked away, heading back for the fountain.

Fennel spit out the blood that pooled in his mouth. The big bastard was down. He walked over to the edge of the dried-up fountain pool and sat down. The old man he was protecting must have run away during the fight. He was nowhere to be found. Fennel chuckled. “Not even a thank you. Man, this place kind of sucks.”

His health bar was down only about 15%. Stamina was down maybe 10. He turned off Boundless. It wasn’t needed to recover that small amount of missing energy.

He looked down at his arms and hands. They were still trembling. His knuckles were swollen and cut up, but they didn’t hurt. His heart was pounding. As he looked at his hands, a weird smile grew on his face. Why was that so much fun? I’ve sparred with others hundreds of times by now. What made that different?

He shook his head. He was here for a reason. The meeting with the half elf. Fennel wiped the blood from his hands on the sides of his pants before retrieving the message from his pocket. It was a little crumpled from the fight but nothing was damaged.

He looked into the sky and saw the stars twinkling in the sky. “Ah, crap.” I’m stuck in this place til morning now. He sighed.

He stood up and walked around the fountain, hoping to see someone who matched the terrible description he was given. A few of the lamp posts in the area worked but it was still incredibly dark out. Other inebriated individuals were scattered among the fountain plaza, but they were all men from what he could tell. He took the time to walk around to each one just in case. One of them was a woman, but a gnome. She threw up just as he walked up to her, getting it on his shoes.

“Yep, this place sucks.”

Upon returning from his pointless endeavor, his eyes fell on the split tree in the center of the plaza. “Laurel’s Fountain.” He heard stories about this fountain, about how wonderful it once was. A beautiful marvel. A miracle from the First One Laurel, Nature’s Grandmother. A never ending spring of blessed water flowing from a dazzling tree.

But this was his first time seeing it in person. He couldn’t imagine any of those descriptors being true while staring at the dead, dusty thing. He also expected it to be bigger.

He hadn’t been born when the incident happened. The incident that cleaved the tree down right down the middle. He didn’t know much about the event. It was a topic that no one spoke much about. For good reason, talking about it came with a one way ticket on a penal caravan heading for Tiamantis.

He shook his head. Nothing good will come from thinking about that.

He sat on the edge of the barren pool. He stared up at the night sky, trying to ignore the myriad sounds of debauchery that rang out from the Gloom. He rubbed the tops of his hands. Now that the adrenaline died down he felt the pain in his fists and face. He couldn't help but think about Gloria while he checked for any deeper injuries. She was the best healer his squad could have asked for. These little cuts and bruises would be nothing for her to patch up with her wonderful, soft hands. She’d hum that soothing tune like she always does. Fennel’s face blushed as he sat in his fantasy for a moment. Until a group of lethargic women burst into the plaza, singing and wheezing out a flat melody. Fennel just shook his head. Something that was occurring far too much since he got here.

“I want to go to bed.” He realized where he was again. “Where am I going to sleep tonight?”

The sounds of the Gloom died down as night went on, never fully silencing. All the while, his impatience grew every minute, his foot tapping wildly on the ground. Where is this freaking contact I’m supposed to meet? I swear if this is another stupid prank from those two. This boiling emotion was now the only thing keeping him awake and alert right now.

But before he could come up with a just punishment to exact on his tormentors, he heard some rustling from a tree nearby. His senses went on high alert. His ears perked up and he strained to pick up on any movement coming his way.

I hope it's not some of that scum’s friends, come to get a little payback. Do thugs have friends? Coworkers?

He stood back up, he turned over to the man in question. He was still asleep, maybe a bit slumped over now, but still there. So he clearly didn’t go and get back up. Maybe one of his friends checked on him from the shadows.

He heard the rustle once more. Fennel inched his way over to one of the brighter lamps in the plaza. If he was to be ambushed, he needed to give himself the best opportunity to fight back. Which meant he needed light. He didn’t have a night vision ability.

Some footsteps tapped out in the darkness beyond the lamp’s light. It sounded like only one person but he didn’t let his guard down.

After a moment, they stopped just outside of the light. He squinted and tried to see who it was. They took one more step forward, revealing a small framed person in an oversized cloak. The cloak covered most of the person’s face so Fennel could only see their mouth and chin.

“Are you the one Ainsworth sent?”