Closed First Impressions...Well...Don't Matter

[Tyrek]

Day 61 of Winter in the Year 513 AV

A cry of agony penetrated Tyrek’s ear drums, jerking his head to find the source. Just in time, he witnessed Venser rip his nails out of the thug’s leg, drops of blood dripping from his fingertips. Tyrek’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing once again.


He just…he just…What the shyke is this kid into? That’s some messed up stuff.


Tyrek looked at the savage man in a new light. Before he had written him off as a simple pretty boy, but after seeing such a disturbing display of brutality the Svefra was forced to reconsider. Especially seeing him take out two of the thugs in the time it took the Svefra to fight one.


The larger attacker collapsed to the ground, cracking his head against the floor boards. Venser crouched over him. A crazy light seemed to shine from the young man’s eyes, one that stirred up uneasiness in Tyrek’s stomach. Had Venser stabbed him with a knife, Tyrek wouldn’t have batted an eye. But the man had been stabbed with the man’s fingernails.


This kid is crazy. Impressive. But crazy.


Tyrek made his way towards the three people leaving his opponent moaning on the ground, incapacitated. Two were on the ground, one standing triumphantly over them. He had little pity for the thugs but as he strode over to Venser, he got a good look at what the blonde haired man had done to his foes.


Shards of glass were imbedded in the jaw and side of one of the men’s face, blood oozing out of the wounds. He could see a handle of a mug lying discarded on the ground close to the injured man’s face. Tyrek looked at Venser, hesitantly. It was a fairly practical move, smashing a glass over someone’s head. Usually it left them dazed, depending on the thickness of their skull. They always seemed to be able to shake it off and continue fighting. But he’d never seen so much damage done to a person like that before. It was, unnatural.


Tyrek looked over at the larger of the two men, he didn’t look well. He had excessive trauma to the head and had damage to his leg. The Svefra wasn’t even sure if the man was alive. When he collapsed, he hit his head pretty hard against the ground. He wasn’t moving.


Tyrek looked around the room, warily. He didn’t know the Rush kid well, but he knew killing someone was an offense, quick to lock a person up in jail for a long time. He didn’t feel any loyalty for Venser, but he knew that he could possibly be tied to accessory of murder. And not having any papers as a resident…


“Is he…dead?” He squinted his eyes at the body, trying to figure out what his next move would be. They both need a quick escape route. The room had gone silent in surprise as the customers watched the battle play itself out. It had ended swiftly and abruptly as the blonde haired man dealt savage punishment to the two men.


”Alright Rush, listen up.” Tyrek whispered quietly. “We’re going to need to leave quickly. Way too many people saw what just happened and we need to get out of here.”


The Svefra pulled his hood up over his head, letting it settle just over his eyes. He strode away from the fallen bodies, not making eye contact with anyone, hunching over slightly to avoid the stares. He didn’t look to see if Venser was following but made a beeline straight for the door, ready to put the eventful night behind him.

[Abstract]

As Tyrek tried to make his way out of the building, someone walked straight through the door. The two collided, the darkly dressed man stumbling back a few steps, and shoving the other in the same motion. Tyrek would take a few moments to notice, but Venser would see the newcomer instantly: an Ebonstryfe soldier. He quickly scanned the room, expression darkening in moments as he spotted the blood, bruises, and groaning bodies.

In his right hand, the light-haired warrior held a long metal staff. He changed to grip it with two hands, ready to smash the skulls of anyone who tried anything stupid. Though he didn't quite understand the situation... it was obvious some kind of fight had happened.

"What happened here?" He demanded, glaring at Tyrek and Venser in turn. Once he got a reply, he'd state bluntly: "Papers! Who are you? And who are these idiots on the floor?" His voice was all command, and he motioned towards the drunken fools with his foot. "Now!"

OOCHello! Sorry for the short post - it should end up lengthening.

[Venser Rush]

Venser heard the booming voice of the Ebonstryfe member before he saw his face, the Rush twin still groaning as he struggled to rise to his feet. A single hand reached into the deep pockets of his coat, answering, "A fight, sir." before retrieving his Ravokian citizenship papers as beads of sweat built at his fringe. The damaged received was, according to what he felt, minimal, though the blood on his face, the gash from glass wedged in his left hand, and the soreness at the back, causing a temporarily hunched posture, provided an illusion of the contrary. In fact, the only person who looked to be uninjured was... Tyrek. For the most part. A punch to the face wasn't a serious injury. Gears began working in the twin's mind as he realized that Tyrek was likely not a local. He had wanted to leave immediately. There was anxiety on his face, creasing his brow when he had spoken. Venser winced again, stepping over to the Ebonstryfe member, presenting his papers to him, "A nasty one, too. This... heathen," he added in a whisper, motioning over to the Svefra before a feigned cough escaped his lips, "Started this whole thing. Started egging on the poor blokes on the floor, started a thing. I was pulled into it by his conniving ways. Thought I was his friend, you see. Sitting next to a Svefra, of all people. Better than a Symenestra, at least..." The expression of the prejudice was the manifestation for the hatred for the men on the floor. The fight was done, and retribution would follow, but he didn't have to be involved in it. This was Rhysol's city after all, there was no reason to not play into his game of betrayal, if it suited his purposes. The Rush twin's gaze moved from the hardened gaze of the Ebonstrfy male to the metal staff that he held, instead, a brief thought regarding the number of people who had received their 're-education' at the face of the very same weapon. It was an unsettling question, to be sure, but if all went well, Venser was never going to learn the answer.

[Tyrek]

Day 61 of Winter in the Year 513 AV

Tyrek’s temper flared as the door flew open and a black shape shoved him backwards. His hand instantly went to his concealed dirk but he managed to stop himself before drawing it.


What the…


Confusion twisted his features as he slowly looked at the figure standing in front of him. Dark clothes covered the man, a steel staff held firmly in both hands. An angry scowl was set across the man’s face. At first nothing registered in the Svefra’s mind and he opened his mouth to tell the idiot off.


But suddenly it clicked.


His composure instantly changed. The anger slipped off his face and tightened in fear as it coiled itself around his stomach. His eyes widened and he paled slightly.


The Ebonstryfe.


He dropped his hands at his side and began taking quiet, deep breathes. He didn’t want to do anything to cause the soldier to attack.


“What happened here?” The guard lashed out, words slicing through the air like a whip.


Tyrek was about to reply but Venser beat him to it. He pressed his lips firmly together, deciding it would be best to try to not interact with the man who wielded all the authority in Ravok. Excuses started whirling through his mind as he tried to come up with a reason for not having papers on him. Other than not having the papers at all, of course.


The guard seemed to ignore Tyrek for a moment as he focused his attention of Venser. The blonde haired man looked like he was in bad shape as he pulled his documents out from his pockets. The Ebonstryfe had planted himself directly in front of the door, leaving no real avenue of escape for Tyrek.


But the words that proceeded to come out of Venser’s mouth chilled Tyrek to the bone. He turned to stare at the man, his grizzled jaw dropping as he listened to the lies that drilled into the Svefra’s chest like nails. Any sort of mask Tyrek had thought about wearing was blown to high hell as disbelief took over his face.


The once seemingly easy going flirt and turned into a stone cold, malicious man at the flip of a switch.


Does he realize what he is doing? He’s…he’s putting this one me??


“No, what? No, Venser what the shyke. You backstabbing whore!” Tyrek blustered, the disbelief banished by the anger that crushed any other emotion. “I petching helped you! And now you’re pinning this on me?!”


Tyrek felt hot rage boil over in his chest. His vision narrowed as a haze seemed to blind him. Before he thought better of it, the Svefra ripped the dirk from his belt and lunged at Venser.


The tip of the twelve inch blade was pointed directly towards the blonde haired man’s chest as Tyrek intended to kill the one who was willing to betray him to the Ebonstryfe.


His life was over anyways. Might as well take the traitor down with him.

[Abstract]

The Stryfer eyed Venser as he explained, nodding. His eyes locked onto the other man when he was accused of starting the fight, however. He took the papers, gave them a sharp look over, and handed them back to the Ravokian. He now knew he had one under his protection. However, the other... apparently a Svefra, follower of Laviku, his status was uncertain. If he showed no papers? The soldier would side with Venser.

The man's yelling didn't phase the Stryfer, and he glared at Tyrek, staff ready to hit something. "You? You accuse him. But where are your papers? Show them!" He was close enough to spot the first movement, the hand going to the belt, and reacted instantly. A non-citizen attacking a citizen was even more of an offense than two equals fighting. On top of that, it was his job to protect Venser, until he found the man guilty... but there was no reason to.

Because of that, he leaped forward just a split second after Tyrek, using the length of his weapon to his advantage. The Svefra had crossed maybe half the distance to his target when the metal staff came swinging up on his arms, hitting the elbow solidly. It would have been hard to dodge, with all his attention on Venser, and it the weapon was allowed to hit full on... it would shatter bone.

With Tyrek's right arm probably causing bucket loads of pain, and mostly useless, the Stryfer kicked away the dirk and shoved them man to the floor, using a quick leg sweep, and a hard push, to send him toppling. He then carefully rested his staff on Tyrek's throat, and glared at him with hard grey eyes. "Are you a citizen, or not?" he demanded.

[Tyrek]

Day 61 of Winter in the Year 513 AV

The Ebonstryfe’s anger words were barely registered, nothing more than a loud buzz in his ears. His anger blinded him to the rest of the room around him, his attention focused solely on the blonde haired man in front of him. His mind was in lock down, he stopped processing what was happening and his only thoughts were on driving the point of the dagger through the coward’s heart.


He swiftly crossed the distance between them, teeth bared. Tyrek could almost feel the knife biting into the skin, sliding in between the ribs and jamming into the shoulder blade, heart pierced. He could imagine the light slowly drain from the human’s eyes until nothing remained but a glazed look as death stole the life from the corpse.


But none of that happened. Instead, an explosion of agony erupted from the joint in his arm. The dagger flew from his useless fingers as his elbow was shattered. He barely even had time to register the pain before his was legs were swept out from under him and he crashed to the ground.


His head cracked against the tavern floor hard, the room spinning wildly. A few ticks later, the pain in his arm increased tenfold. He grit his teeth, a moan escaping from between his lips as he cradled his shattered elbow with his good hand.


He tried lifting his head but was stopped as the butt of the staff was jammed into his throat. He met the stare of the Ebonstryfe officer balefully but it lacked its usual venom as he was barely able to mask the pain.


I am so screwed. There is no way out of this…


But a thought popped into his head. It was his only shot at getting his revenge. He’d take it.


“Shyke, yes! It’s in my boot.” Tyrek slowly slid his boot towards his butt, knee slowly raising. He gingerly released his broken arm and gasped in pain as it shifted, almost blacking out. He lifted his good arm towards his boot where his concealed stiletto rested.


Reaching in, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and in one swift motion, whipped the blade clear from its sheath and over his head, throwing it end over end at Venser.


Tyrek could only pray to whatever deity was listening that the blade would find its mark and if not kill, at least severely wound the man who would be the ruin of the last Velkor.

[Venser Rush]

Holy petch... The quickness in the Stryfer's movements was enough in it of itself, but the ferocity that was in the movement, the power of his strike. Venser could hear it as bone was shattered with the fierce movement of the staff, Venser's eyes wide and almost appraising, rather enthralled.

The betrayal had been cemented, and the young Rush twin now saw what was an ally less than five chimes before as little more than meat to be raised to slaughter. He watched the man cradle his elbow with his hand, careful not to vocalize his triumph as a thought entered his mind.

One does not... mess with a member of the Ebonstryfe. That was brutal. The Rush stepped back for a moment, , his back flat against the wall of the bar as he looked around. It was a speckled mixture of both fear and respect for the Stryfer that he saw in the faces of the spectators, the very same mirrored in crystalline eyes.

Then, he asked Tyrek for his papers again, arching a brow as he noted that the young man was reaching for papers. Was I wrong? Did I just condemn an innocent man to being crippled at the elbow? Am I to be tried? The panic set in for several moments, though the Svefra pulled out what looked to be a weapon, a blade.

The Svefra flung it at him, the weapon sailing past the Stryfer, Venser raising his hands to cover his chest, but the weapon's trajectory was not to make it there. Rather, it slashed him in the arm, the blade tearing through the flesh of his shoulder, blood fleeing from his body, crimson droplets falling to the floor as a pained grunt escaped him. The twin gritted his teeth in the pain, fists clenched as he looked over the Velkor. Aggression rose in his mind, a desire to get even rising in his blood.

But, it wasn't necessary. The man was crippled, on the floor with a Stryfer in their mutual presence. He was likely weaponless at this point, and Venser was protected by the black-clad man. Instead, Venser stepped forward, rage filling the motion as he welled saliva in his mouth, spitting on the Svefra's body, "Scum. I hope you rot." His fists were clenched very tightly, nails digging into Venser's palms as he held in the desire to employ the Flux yet again. He had managed to employ the magic without obvious overgiving this time, and did so to his significant advantage. That was... enough, for now.

The presence of victory filled the young man's heart, his body relaxing as he stepped back, so that he was once again within the Stryfer's protection. The staff-wielding man was ultimately the decider of Tyrek's fate, but any and every single person in the bar, if given the chance to guess, would likely choose the same answer.

[Abstract]

The Ebonstryfe hadn’t been suspicious about the knife-in-boot trick, something he cursed himself for later. If Tyrek had actually had any skill in the weapon, it would have killed the man he was trying to protect. He wouldn’t fall for it a second time though, he vowed.

Despite that, he still fell the first time. He eyed the shoe with vague interest, ready to take the papers as he leaned on Tyrek’s throat. The appearance of metal, however, caused a shout, but he was too late… it was already flying at its intended victim. Roaring in annoyance, he made a split second decision and shifted his staff, heavily clipping the Svefra on the skull. It was enough to send him spinning into darkness for a decent length of time. Sometimes killing someone just wasn’t enough.

That done, he spun to face Venser… and breathed a sigh of relief. The man was only injured. This Stryfer had quite the sense of honor, and took his job as protector of Ravok seriously. ”Good. It only scratched you. I can get you to the Healing Hand after we deal with him” The last word was spat out in disgust.

After giving the Rush twin his moment to curse, the soldier proposed a few ideas. ”He attacked you… so you can decide what to do with him. He’s not a citizen, so there’s no problem with whatever we do. Dump him in the lake? Let him go? I disagree with that. Take him for the Black Sun’s justice? Or to the slave markets, and split the profit.” He would personally like the latter, with the extra cash it brought in, but he’d made his decision to allow Venser to choose.

[Venser Rush]

It was a long moment spent looking down at the fallen Svefra before Venser realized that the Stryfer had spoken to him. His life had almost almost been extinguished by the bastard on the floor, and what would he have been able to do about it? Nothing. A single blade in the heart, or anywhere with a major artery, would be enough to extinguish the light that burned for Harameus' will. The Rush twin shook his head, anger rising in his features again, overshadowing the astonishment as he stepped forward to kick the Svefra between the ribs. The body, however, was inert.

The Rush twin then registered the Stryfer's words, casting his gaze back to the black-clad soldier with a curious expression as he spoke of selling the man into slavery. Now that was an idea... They could profit off of the sale as well as subjecting the normally free sort of people to a life of servitude. He grinned at the possibility, eager to profit off of the bastard's ill-fate. Someone's going to, anyway. And this vagik attacked ME. So if should be me. Also... it seems that the Stryfer is eager to make a profit from this... perhaps this could be useful for me later.

The young man nodded to the Stryfer slowly, crystalline eyes focused upon the soldier as he replied, "I agree with the decision to sell the non-citizen into slavery. It's where their trouble-making ilk belong. We'll likely need some shackles..." He trailed off, realizing that the need to introduce himself had become clear. Yes, the papers clearly marked him as Venser Rush, citizen of Ravok, but there was a formal introduction in order. After all, this could be the beginning of something greater. "May I have the pleasure of learning your name? I'd rather not call a business partner," he motioned to the Svefra on the floor, comparing him to a collection of goods, before continuing, "Stryfer. It seems too impersonal. My name is Venser Rush." The man extended his hand, a grin present upon his features.

OOCI'm so sorry my reply took so long T.T Don't hate meee.

[Abstract]

The soldier nodded curtly at Venser, before adding his name. "Karle Worthen" He shook his head at the suggestion of shackles, however. "Don't need them... we're not too far from the slave markets. I can just drag him there." As he said that, he picked up Tyrek by the arms, and hoisted the Svefra over his back. He grunted at the extra weight, but straightened, taking a few steps towards the door.

"Let's go," he commented, before slowly walking out.

OOCThis seems to be a nice place to end things. Just put the thread up for grades, and note it for me to grade... I'll give the money for selling Tyrek there