Completed The worm in the book

[Daegron]

Spring 9th, 514AV
late afternoon

This part of the docks area felt like a labyrinth. Alleyways that led into canals, dead ends and more alleys until one could not remember where he came from. Mostly houses of the poor folk, abandoned shacks and the occasional shop were found there. He could feel them watching at the stranger wandering around their neighborhood through their windows; as he turned to meet their gaze, some kept on staring questioningly and others simply looked the other way. Bohir's directions were clear, but he was sure he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was just about to quit and try to find his way out of this maze when he finally spotted the shack he was looking for.

It was in an otherwise quiet and shadowy dead end alley that he spotted the painted red mark Bohir had told him about. Two muscular men were standing at the end of the alley right outside the house that was supposed to be their headquarters. He approached cautiously and they turned to greet him with clenched fists and menacing looks. One of them, the taller one who was limping slightly, looked like he had been in a brawl recently; a few bruises, a cut on his upper lip and a scratched chin made it obvious that he was on the loosing side. The other one talked:

"This district belongs to the Red Nails outsider. Who are you and how dare you walk around here ?"

"I'm here for the job" Daegron plainly said and showed him the scribbled note.

The thugs eyed him from head to toe, then looked at each other and chuckled. Were they mocking him? And what for ? Daegron' rage started to build up, and he tried to calm himself down. The beaten one winced as he raised his arm to tap Daegron's shoulder, which felt like an act of sympathy as he led him into the house:

"Come on in, outsider! Chief will fill you in on the details..."

The place was dirty; reeking of booze, bad breath, vomit and worse. An old table, a few chairs and a pile of empty bottles were the only decorations. On one of the chairs sat a short and stocky fellow with unkempt patches of facial hair and a bad eye. His shaking hands and subtle flinch were barely noticeable but enough for Daegron to know that his man was abusing substances.

"Chief, we got a volunteer for Jonah's little debt" said the tall thug and Daegron was greeted by a smile full of irony and rotten teeth.

"Ah, the old worm has a book store a couple of blocks from here. He refuses to pay for our protection. We want our 200 Gold Mizas today outsider." said the man in charge and chuckled. "Straight and simple. Get back to me when you got the money..." he burst into a short fit of laughter that ended with a nasty cough. "Good luck outsider, you will need it..."

Straight down to business, which was good. Daegron wasn't much of a social person and certainly not with lowlife thugs such as these. He was promptly led outside and given directions to the bookstore. He still did not know why they were laughing at him but he guessed that they thought he'd never make it back with the money. He was determined to prove them wrong...

_

[Daegron]

It took him a few chimes to find his new destination in that maze of alleyways and canals. The old book store seemed to be out of place in this poor section of the city. Education must have been the least of their worries here, despite the fact that even the poorest seemed to be taken care of. Yet a small group of children happily trotted out of the shop with tattered tomes on their hands, nearly bumping into him. Daegron shrugged and entered casually, acting as if he was a customer. He had to take a closer look at the owner and perhaps gain a bit of insight on why those thugs couldn't get their money from him. Hidden behind a large pile of dusty tomes was Jonah, as the sign outside hinted, an old and frail man who looked completely harmless. He was utterly absorbed by a book that was probably written in some obscure language; that much was evident from the fancy and incomprehensible writing on the cover. There was nothing that could have warned him of any imminent danger, so Daegron's shoulders relaxed, believing that it could be far easier than he first thought. Little did he know...

"You haven't paid your dues old man..." he said with a grim look on his face, finally getting the old man's attention, who seemed startled at first. "You know the drill.."

For a brief moment, the old man's expression turned to a cold and calculating stare. Daegron barely noticed it, but dismissed the notion when the old man's face turned into a scared and angry grimace.

"I have told you tough types that I am not giving you a single copper ! I don't need your protection nor your uneducated mugs around my shop !" His tone hinted a bit of self righteousness and lot of anger and fear.

"So is this really how you want to do this ?" he growled and moved even closer in a threatening way. His hand grasped the hilt of his blade. He wasn't going to pull a sword against him, but at the time it seemed like a good threatening move.

"No you fool !" Jonah said plainly and pointed to his right. "This is how we are going to do this.."

_

[Daegron]

A low grunt, a hissing breath and a snort were heard from the right. Behind an old crumbling bookcase to his left stood a monster of a man. He was very tall, with a wide neck and strong shoulders. Beaten with an ugly stick ever since he was born; even dropped from a high place, as his skull was clearly misshapen. Daegron could only guess that his thickness extended all the way into his brain. The reason for the mockery he'd received from the gang was now obvious. As obvious as the reason that prevented them from getting their protection money. And that same reason was slowly moving towards him and he knew that there was no easy way out of it.

There was no room for him to draw his scimitar without getting it stuck in some rotten piece of furniture. That blade was his only chance he had. But he wasn't one to just run away as he was no stranger to a good brawl. Despite his size his opponent was pretty fast. The man tightly grabbed Daegron from his shoulders and went for a head-butt. The force of the hit was enough to split his skull in two, but luckily he managed to break free just in time. Still, the impact dazed him and he took a few steps back trying to find his balance. A right punch landed on his temple and he found himself on the counter. There was a throbbing pain that covered half of his face. He stumbled for a moment and tilted his head, barely avoiding a punch that aimed straight for his nose. He stepped closer, ducked and punched with all his might, plunging his fist into the man's exposed side. Yet that monster didn't even flinch. Instead it lowered his elbow which struck Daegron's shoulder sending him back on the counter. Before he could stand on his feet he was grabbed again and tossed on a bookshelf on the other side of the shop. A loud thud, a groan of pain and then the sharp sting of a cut on his right eyebrow. A small red stream gushed and covered his eye. He was loosing badly; it wasn't a matter of pride any more, but a matter of survival. He got up anyway he could and hastily wiped the blood from his face. He managed to grab one of the shelves just in time to block another solid punch aimed for his gut. The piece of wood was reduced to splinters, but Daegron's innards were safe for now. The room spun around him and he felt exhausted, yet he pushed himself forward and avoiding the hands ready to crush him, he managed a hit on that monster's neck stopping it on it's tracks. The next punch was aimed directly for the hulk's jaw but the effect was subtle and only managed to anger it. He was pushed away and a knee flew straight for his chest and struck him. Daegron's breath was violently taken away. Yet in that breathless moment there was a tiny bit of clarity. That hit was not half as strong as he had anticipated; if that monster's legs were as strong as its hands his ribcage would have just collapsed, yet he was just fine. He heard a slight groan of pain and he saw the limping steps. He'd found a weak spot but just as he'd found it, he was grabbed again, and hit against a bookcase. And another. He almost lost consciousness but he struggled to break free, avoiding another head-butt by covering his face with his arms.
And soon it was over. He was flung out of the door straight on the opposite wall. He moaned and tried to stand up. But it was impossible, so he decided to just stay there, defeated.
"Never come back !" the old man said and closed the door to his shop...

Daegron just crawled away. He had enough violence for tonight...

_

[Daegron]

Spring 9th, 514AV
late night at Tarsin's

"Shyke !"
The cut on his right eyebrow was still open. Small drops of thick red dripped in the small water basin, as he tried to wash the dried blood off his face. The sting from his swollen wound was painful. The left side of his face was dominated by an ugly bruise that originated from his temple and spread it's violet hue down his cheek and up his brow. He dared not touch that part; the throbbing pain was intolerable every time he turned his head to the left. He tore a piece of his bed sheet into stripes using his small knife needing to make a makeshift bandage. The cheap linen was soaked into the cool water and carefully wrapped around his head. It would help him for a while, until he fell asleep. It took a few painful chimes and countless groans and curses until the wrapping was over.

"Good thing your luck hasn't left you yet, you worthless mindless vagik" was his last thought before he sank into a deep sleep.
It was sheer luck that he was still alive and not floating in some canal or other. This wasn't the first time he was beat up, and certainly it wasn't the worst, but he could have just left his final breaths in there. He was a fool to have just walked in casually and play the tough guy. He should have known better than that.

He thought he would feel better next morning but that wasn't the case. Turning his head either side was painfully difficult. His eyebrow was still swollen and dark red but at least the cut was closed. His whole body was aching from last night's brawl. He needed some strategy if he was to succeed in taking that money and getting his pay. It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to defeat that monstrous hulk just by using his brawn. He needed more cunning and a little Morphing would certainly offer him an edge.

So he tried to focus and recollect all the information gained from the fight. After replaying the scene in his mind over and over again, he managed to gather a few facts together. His opponent certainly favored headbutts which probably has earned him a thick skull. His legs were far weaker than his hands, so they could make an easy target. He was too big to easily maneuver around the endless piles of books and bookcases in that place. It was as pointless to just hit him anywhere, as grappling and wrestling with him was. Daegron was perfectly aware of the importance of the first hit. He needed the element of surprise and a few well placed hits to succeed. He smiled as the plan started to form in his mind. He carefully thought of all the little details that would make it work and how he could use his talent to achieve what brute force could not. With his mind set on his goal, he managed to overcome his aching body's weakness and finally stood up and got himself ready. Moving around the room for a while made him feel a lot better so he decided not to tarry any longer and left the safety of his room. His hooded cloak would cover his appearance for now.

With new strength, clear head and a tenacious attitude he walked towards the bookstore, looking for a fight to win..

_

[Daegron]

Spring 10th, 514AV
morning

It was less than a bell later that he found himself outside the book store. This time there was no brash foolishness to lead him. Perhaps he needed someone to beat some sense into him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Noone was around to watch and tell. It was time...

He looked at the back of his hands, his palms and clenched his fists. As always, becoming aware of himself was the first part of any transformation. He focused on his breathing, on the beating of his heart.His breath now turned into a chant; disturbing low guttural incomprehensible words followed from his resonating throat. He could feel every nerve, every vessel, every bone and every muscle on his outstretched hands. He reached inwards to find his essence, his Djed and felt it flow through his veins all over his body; along his arms he followed it all the way to his fingertips. He made the change. He relaxed his grip and his skin started to dry. Then layer upon layer of dry skin he stacked until the texture reminded the bark of a tree, hard and rough. His knuckles hardened and grew thicker and larger. Like small jagged mountains they extended outwards, tearing the dry skin and exposing the white bone. With a deep breath and a low gurgling sound the chant grew louder as he followed the path of Djed as it flowed back into it's core and straight up to his aching head. With a slow vibration and waves of throbbing pain his skull started to stretch and small ugly lumps were born. And in there he could feel the marrow compress into a thicker material and these bony lumps expanded and rose. Three rows of small horns slowly grew, an inch long and thick, stretching his skin.

His face has now twisted in a terrible horned mask of hatred. Yet a sick smile was drawn on his lips, despite the headache that made his skull feel like it would crack from the pressure. The cut on his eyebrow was opened again; his skin was stretched too thin and small drops of blood were running down his face. His knuckles were red around the jagged exposed bone. He stubbornly kept his focus, fighting with his body as it begged to be released. The pain was unbearable, but he gritted his teeth and kept the transformation, for he knew that pain was but the echo of his triumphant flesh. His strength and his art. He welcomed thoughts of violence and hatred for they fed his inner self; a little twisted part of him, born by his overgiving, that craved for more.

With steady steps, a wicked grin and an air of superiority, the cowled fleshcrafter entered the shop with vengeance on his mind...

_

[Daegron]

"You really don't seem to understand now, do you ?" said the old man annoyed by the appearance of that beaten lackey in his shop. He recognized Daegron, but the details of the transformation were hidden by the cowl and long sleeves of the heavy woolen coat. Yet the cunning smile on Jonah's face was noticed; there was something else about the old man that didn't quite fit in the whole scene.

With the wave of a wrinkled hand, the giant walked forth and blocked his path, looking down at the one who came looking for a fight again. Overflowing with confidence and wearing a smile decorated with a pair of rotten teeth, the hulk grabbed Daegron's shoulders and instantly pulled his head back for his favorite opener. As the thick skull flew swiftly in a crushing arc towards his head, the Morpher, now aware of what was to happen, pushed both of his fists against the monster's shoulders in order to soften the force behind the blow and lowered his head slightly to meet the skull with his horns. The timing was perfect; the blow was hard, but Daegron took the least of it. He staggered and his sight went black for a moment while his head rang like a bell and felt like it would explode. With a loud howl of agony his opponent stepped back, his face a mangled mess where the horns connected with his head. Daegron's hood fell back as he raised his head to meet the surprised gaze of the ugly thing that once had a human's face in front of him. For a moment he felt like the control was slipping away from him so he started his disturbing chant again in order to keep resisting his body's urge to return to normal.

Step by step he followed the wounded monster who was holding his bloody forehead until he was close enough to reach. With a low kick from his heel he hit it's kneecap, causing the hulk to collapse on his knees writhing in pain and cursing. It was a series of quick and hard jabs on his opponent's chest that made the cursing stop. The man responded with a desperate strike to Daegron's jaw which shook the Morpher enough to loose his focus. The horns receded and disappeared, leaving behind lumps of bruised skin and a numbing ache spread all over his head and spine. The chant went on though and a well aimed punch found the hulk straight to his temple sending it's head to crash on a bookshelf to it's right. The moaning stopped. Daegron's thoughts were filled with hatred as he raised his jagged fist again and struck the thick head against the shelf, like a hammer hitting metal on an anvil. The shelf collapsed, and stacks of books fell and covered his opponent's head; this one wasn't going to get back up any time soon. He staggered and exhaled ending his chant, letting his form return to normal. His knuckles were bruised and swollen and small abrasions covered his dry hands. He tore a piece of cloth from the hulk's shirt and wiped the blood from his head and face.

He shuddered and twitched, doubtlessly an aftershock from his excessive strain, as he turned to the old man who looked terrified. Yet Daegron's keen eye noticed that the cold and calculating expression was hidden behind that act. Jonah's hand was in a drawer and his eyes narrowed as he pulled something. It was pure instinct that made him find the strength to draw his scimitar and slash at the old man's direction. There was a clicking sound and a small bolt flew barely past his shoulder from the hand crossbow that this seemingly harmless bookkeeper just pulled. The scimitar was stuck on the counter, a rather unsuccessful hit that caused a small explosion of splinters and saved his life.

"Very well then.." Jonah said with a calm tone and a grin throwing a small satchel on the counter."You can have the money... after all they will find their way back to me to me soon..."

_

[Daegron]

"Just who the petch are you ?" he said and his tired voice faded to a whisper. A wave of exhaustion overcame him and he leaned on the counter. His impression seemed to be correct but still, he had to know and make sense.

"A businessman.." he responded flatly and a wry smile appeared on his lips. "Let's just say that those fools that sent you here are working for me."
He laughed at Daegron's surprise and went on. "Or should I say used to work for me. I cannot have those useless ruffians messing things up now, can I ?"

"So that whole mess is your game ?" he spat the words angrily though he knew that he had no fight left in him. He looked at the unconcious bodyguard and back at Jonah. His stare was full of scorn.
"Was he a part of your plan?"

The old man looked at the the mess that the brawls had caused, and then at the hulk that was supposed to protect him with disgust.
No, he is a huge disappointment and a minor setback; but nevertheless, I am impressed by your performance. Resilience, relentlessness, cunning, brute force and a disturbing bit of magic... You have potential...

Daegron had no mood for small talk. Certain that the old man wasn't really harmless, he grabbed the satchel and mustered his remaining strength to stand up and walk away. "I am taking this and leaving old man.." he said staring at him intensely, trying to figure him out. There was no sign of objection or threat as far as he could tell. He'd better left now before anything changed. He carefully stepped away while the awkward silence filled the air for what felt like hours. Nothing happened till he reached the door.

"Do come back again outsider" the bookkeeper said as he nodded him farewell. "I may have work for you in the near future..."

The soft and humid breeze breathed new life to him when he stepped outside. There was a sigh of relief and a proud grin. The headache was milder now and he casually walked in the narrow alleys to find the Nails' leader. It wasn't long till he found that red painted mark and the two thugs who had welcomed him the day before. They welcomed his beaten and bruised appearance with mockery and sympathetic looks, but when he raised the satchel to show that it was over they froze. Daegron just walked past them and into the house; the sound of coins emptied on the table was enough to make their leader smile. He hastily scribbled a few words on a small piece of paper and tossed it to Daegron's hands.

"It is done"
"Give this to Bohir and he'll pay you" he just said and showed him the way out.

There was no reason to tarry any longer. So he left, heading straight to the Spot...

_

[Nemesis]

Daegron

Knowledge :

Skills

Skill	XP
Brawling	+2
Intimidation	+1
Morphing	+1
Observation	+3
Planning	+1
Weapon: Scimitar	+1

Lores

*Impressing a Potential Employer
*Ravok: Hard to Navigate
*Taking Care of a Wound
*Using an Opponent's Weakness and Strength

Micellaneous :

Injuries

*Small cut above right eye, which will heal within 10 days with treatment, double that without.

Loot/Expenses

* +60GM (already added to ledger)

____________________________________________

Notes

*This was a nice thread, Daegron; I'm curious to learn more about his personality and his impressions of others.
* Obviously don't add a second 60GM to your ledger, I just mead a note here that it's what you earnt.

Feel free to PM me with questions, comments, or concerns, if you have any.
Also, remember to either delete your grade request or edit it as 'graded'.
Thank ye!