Egfor sighs and rolls out of bed. He knew Dem would follow him, so he didn't particularly care about being too quiet. He was quiet enough to not wake the girls or the dogs as he crept out of the house.
He walked Southwards towards Bree at a brisk pace. He pulled his fur wrap tighter around his shoulders to fend off the cold.
He heard thundering hooves behind him, stepping off the road to allow the rider to pass. Egfor found it odd at this time of night but brushed it off.
Egfor made his way into Bree, cutting through dark alleys and streets. He made his way to a seedy looking building, the door flung open and firelight spilling out into the street. Egfor pushed into the building, met with a throng of men and women surrounding a ring of baled hay in the center where two men were scrapping. A willowy man who seemed to be a clerk of sorts was half kneeling on a table, shouting at people and handling bets.
The air was thick with smoke from pipes and the fireplace. The place was rather rank with the stench of bodily fluids and cheap ale.
Egfor pressed his way to the 'bar' of stacked crates and kegs to get himself an ale. He made a face at the taste and moved his way into the crowd to watch. His intentions were to watch the fights and maybe learn a thing or two. He may try his luck and place some bets if he feels like it.
Egfor was entirely zoned out watching people.fight when he felt a hand roughly grab his collar. He looks over to see that clerk in his face, "You're up next, got lads betting on you already." Egfor blanches a little, knowing Rae would skin him alive. As would Dem.
His pride and ego took over, his need for redemption overruled his common sense. Before he knew it, he was stripping down to his waist and tying his hair back. He started wrapping strips of fabric around his hands. Dem was going to be furious, he could swear he could feel it already through the rings. He needed to prove himself.
Egfor popped a shaped piece of leather into his mouth and bit down. He recognized his opponent as some upstart young fellow who has mocked him at the Pony before for loving a man. Egfor smirked. Egfor hopped over the bales, briefly thinking about how angry Dem will be. He dismisses the thoughts to focus.
The referee drops his arms and steps back. The two fighting men lifted their hands, sizing each other up. The younger man lashed out first, with a quick volley of punches. Egfor lifted his hands and deflected them easily. This man was half Egfor's size and age. This was too easy.
Egfor retaliated with a swift uppercut that sent the man sprawling back on the hay bales, gasping. He tapped out. The referee grabs Egfor's arm and lifts it, declaring him the winner. A chorus of cheers from those who bet on him rose up.
Egfor felt euphoric. He won, though it was too easy. He needed more. He needed more victory. More challenges. This was better than drinking and smoking. It was addicting. Before he knew it, he was getting pulled into more fights, more gambling and betting.
Egfor emerged from the building finally, pockets heavier with a tidy sum of winnings. This money will help them, not even Dem can deny that. Egfor froze, realizing how long he was gone for, hurrying home, worried now about what Dem would think.
He slipped into the farmhouse, quietly sliding off his boots and furs. He sets all the winnings on his desk quietly and slips back into the bedroom. He only sported a new bruise on his jaw and a few more on his torso and arms. He was as good as dead.
