Payback and New Debts

[Belugnir]

Summer 19th, Noon, Docks of Port Silence:

‘’For the last time, you little prick, I’m not taking you with me. And no, fuckin’. No. No amount of coin your arse can fart out will make me change my mind, now let me petchin’ go, you whore’s spawn.’’, Domagoy, a bald man, thick of muscle and beard proceeded to shove one insisting Einar away as he tried to make his way back to a ship docked at the port.

‘’Call me a whore’s spawn again, you old shit, and I’ll kick your teeth in. I’m from ploughin’ Sunberth just like the lot of you whoresons, and I want off this shykeshow of an island. I’ll sleep in a sodding barrel if I have to, but I’m getting off this cursed rock.’’, Ein remained persistent, walking the docks only steps behind the ship’s captain, all of his belongings gathered and present, strapped either to his chest or back, or shoved into a rucksack.

This Domagoy fellow was another daring soul who organized an irregular visit to Sahova in order to do trade with the mages, which, naturally, meant getting richer for a couple thousand golden coins on account on five or so dozen bodies. Only Domagoy, unlike the merchant that hired Ein months ago, was no pushover. You could see it in his expression, in the atmosphere that stuck between his men. They were the prime example of seasoned Sunberthian scum, and almost certainly did their share of piracy whenever the sea would allow. And one could say that Dom and his men weren’t exactly satisfied with what they got out of their deal with the mages, mostly to blame on the poor condition of the bodies they brought for the trade. Regardless, their badly concluded business put them in a sour mood, one that was preventing Ein in leaving the island in an… at least half civilized way.

‘’Watch your tongue boy, lest I’ll feed it to the first hound I pass by.’’, the man tore his shoulder out of Ein’s grasp and proceeded to stride off towards his ship, hand placed upon the hilt of a curved sword that hung from his hip. Though one idle threat wasn’t nearly enough to make the lad give up what he wanted. He eyed the leaving captain, then his crew, then the ship that carried them…

‘’Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever read a more compensating name for a ship. Ruined Maiden, eh? Funny. I’d bet my arse that the cheapest whores in Sunberth wouldn’t lie down with your ugly mug for a whole talent of gold.’’, if they wouldn’t listen to pleads or offers of gold, Sunberthians will certainly take note of an insult. They didn’t want to take him along, fine, then he’ll make room for himself on that ship by beating the hell out of either their captain or gutting a crew member or two. See if they remember what respect and common courtesy is then. Ein knew a fight was coming now, there was no way that this lot will simply let some nobody insult them and leave without trying to gut him. Though the lad was willing to take the risk, even if it went against all of his instincts. He was bloody tired of this island, and of those stupid whoresons who utterly refused to take him off the goddamn place for a more than reasonable compensation. There was a certain code respected by certain men of questionable worth, vaguely along the lines of: If one wishes to prove themselves, they have to merely beat the daylight out of an opponent after tossing a couple taunts. Perhaps the lad was resting too much hope with the thought that Domagoy and his crew might be of that ilk. If he does get to beat the captain up, or at least manage to prove that he’s no push over, they’ll get to hold him in higher regard, and if nothing else, might just let him come aboard. Perhaps even allow him to join the crew if they realize that he can be a sodding asset if they'd only let him.

[Belugnir]

‘’Boy you did not just—‘’

‘’Oh I did, ye limp prick. You gonna preach me about respecting my elders now? Or you gonna try to spank me? Or are ya gonna show everyone how much of a limp prick you really are and send those fish-fuckers of yours at me instead?’’. Fish-fuckers, ha, now I’ve done it.

The bearded man had turned around, with an expression that held a good amount of disbelief. This little runt dared insult him and his ship, his crew, literally begging for a beating. After a moment, the old man’s face melted into a knowing smile. Half of his crew who could hear Ein’s taunt were already walking down the dock toward the two, cracking their knuckles and playfully displaying the knives and shivs they had on them. Yet the captain merely rose his hand to halt them.

‘’No, no. This boy’s mine.’’, man had already passed Ein by, walking his way over to the sandy ground between the docks and the first buildings of the harbor. There he would stand, sword drawn, waiting for Einar to follow so that they would settle their little dispute. Ein was facing him from some thirty steps of distance within moments. His rucksack left in the sand a couple feet away. Already he was displeased with how this was going. He hoped the old fart would simply charge him straight while on the dock, that’d have given him an enormous advantage, seeing as he would be wielding a poleaxe on a tight space against a sword. Maybe Domagoy wasn’t as much of an old fool. Either way, had Ein been the one to attack first and dirtily, at that, while the old man passed by him on the dock, and after being the one to deliver the insult and challenge, he’d probably be set upon by the old man’s crew within a moment’s notice and provide himself a certain death sentence. So he played along. With a yell, Domagoy came at him.

Axe and sword clashed, and before he could even try bringing the shaft of his weapon around to strike the old man, Ein found an elbow meeting the side of his cheek, and left him staggering away as fast as he could, weapon extended outward to cover his retreat. For a moment he simply gawked at the old man, trying to ignore the ringing in his own head, and the disbelief at how fast this prick actually was. With a coy smile, Domagoy was slowly circling the lad from some fifteen feet distance.

‘’ You’re probably the poorest gambler I met. Maybe I’ll have your arse after this is done, eh lad?’’, now was Domagoy’s turn to mock and taunt.

At that point Ein removed his left hand from the aching side of his head, gripped the lower end of his weapon’s shaft with it, and lunged at the old man without a second thought. Meanwhile Domagoy, in spite of all the force of Ein’s charge and the uncomfortable shape of the poleaxe’s three-headed end, managed to parry the crude weapon, step to the side, let the younger man dive through the thin air next to him, and elbow Einar in the back of the neck as he passed him by. Ein almost fell nose first into the sand while the observing crew’s laughter echoed in his ears. I’ll see the spilled guts of the lot of you, ya filthy pricks. Eyeing Domagoy with the glinting gaze of a cornered wolf, Ein clasped his hands around the weapon’s thick handle again, pointing the spear head outward.

[Belugnir]

‘’Wanted to send a message to the lads, eh? Insult me and beat me up? Eh? Now ye’ll see how a fish-fucker ploughs, after I’m done with you.’’

This bugger was toying with him. The sheer fact that he’d been made into a fool twice over now without being able to so much as make Domagoy break a sweat infuriated him. If there was one thing he hated, it was being helpless. And while the mocking of some two dozen scumbags echoed around him at that. As it often happened with him, anger provided Ein with motivation. With a loud exhale, the grip on his weapon tightened further, and after some twenty seconds that Domagoy kindly spent circling him, playing at being some smartass beast of prey and tossing the occasional witty taunt, Ein had brought out his one ace out of the hole. Flux. His anger-inspired effort to clump an empowering amount of Djed, although still somewhat faint, was probably his most well-performed usage of the sorcery he had done yet.

After a couple more idle taunts and having circled around the lad for one and a half times over, Domagoy realized he won’t get Einar to thoughtlessly charge him again, and decided to take the initiative. A swing came from Ein’s right, only to be coyly redirected into a thrust at his waist in the last possible instant. Yet Domagoy would be on the receiving end of this trade.

Even though the old man feinted his initial attempt and cunningly redirected his attack, Ein managed to catch his opponent’s blade between the spearhead and the upper hook of the axe end, and wring it from Domagoy’s grasp with one sharp jerk to the side, one that also brought the wooden end of his weapon across his opponent’s face. Domagoy hardly had the time to be surprised by the young troublemaker’s sudden increase in strength and speed. As the one swing of his disarming counter attack came to an end, Ein came into a perfect position to now shove the dull end of his weapon’s handle into the old man’s belly, after which, he swung to the side and brought the poleaxe’s hammer across the side of the man’s torso. After hearing the cracking sound which he knew came from at least one of the Domagoy’s ribs, Ein’s concentration loosened. I have you now, ye prick.

Even with the excruciation that tore at his torso and head, Domagoy managed to side-step the spearhead that was now lunged at him, and went to continue that movement into a sweep of his left foot, one that came across Einar’s ankles and presented the young man to the sandy ground. With the sudden panic of being robbed of ground under his feet, Ein completely lost control of his Djed and reflexively attempted to soften his fall by shoving his arms behind him as he fell across the length of himself against the ground, yet he let go of the poleaxe much too late to do so properly, and ended up with a dull, numbing pain that tore everything from his head down to the bottom of his spine.

[Belugnir]

Domagoy had all the time one would need to straddle himself over Ein’s belly and start mercilessly pummeling the lad with his bare hands. Each punch went either to the side of the youth’s head or neck. The old man had won. Only the first prize he’d gotten from this victory was a guaranteed new scar, containing all the tooth prints of one spiteful little bugger who just wouldn’t admit being beaten.

As stunned as he was, Ein still attempted to bite at an incoming fist. He hoped, oh he hoped that he’ll be able to remove at least three fingers from this bastard’s right hand so that he would never get to handle a sword again, yet the fist came trough, right across his jaw, and his teeth only managed to clasp around the middle of the old man’s forearm. He bit in as hard as the numbing nerves in his jaw allowed him to, as only a rabid dog could. Domagoy had let out a painful yelp.

‘’Let go, ye prick!”, the fist of his left hand now came straight into the youth’s forehead, jerking the lad’s head backwards, and the man’s arm with it, for Ein wouldn’t let go. Not until he received another punch, this time to the nose, something that completely threw him into a senseless daze, although his conscience still lingered. He felt an invading taste of iron spilling through his mouth, and could see the blurred figure of Domagoy standing up, holding his forearm, and delivering muffled sounds of curses that Ein was sure involved at least five gods, two supposed members of his family, and something about a cow. He snorted up a weak smile.

Once Domagoy realized that the little prick was smirking, he kneeled down beside Einar, grabbed the lad by the throat, pulled out a shiv from his belt and pressed it under Ein’s chin.

‘’Ye think you’re bloody funny, ya cocksucker?’’, the weak smile was gone, and replaced by a glinting glare from Ein’s one still barely open eye, a look that, in spite of everything, could still convince someone that he had fight left in him yet. For a moment, fear shot through Domagoy’s mind. This lad was bloody mad. Although the fear was there for but a moment, for even if he had all the rabid madness of the world gathered in him, Einar was beaten. And the sudden relief of that undeniable fact brought an old memory to Domagoy.

‘’Y’know, ye little prick, you actually remind me of…’’, his eyes widened. Utter disbelief.‘’Wait… no. How long’s it been?... Six? Eight? Eight years.’’, he started looking at the lad’s hair, the color of his one still visible iris, and the whole of the relentlessly spiteful bugger that wore them. ‘’Fuck the gods, it is you.’’, the old man removed the shiv for a brief while, letting out the most ironic laughter a human throat could produce. ‘’And they say the world ain’t small… What was your name, ya little prick… Eric? Eidar?... Eidan?... Oh I beat you up so hard you can’t talk? Well no matter. Do you remember me, ye little shykespawn? Huh? Eight years ago. Eight fuckin’ years ago and I still remember you every time I see my fuckin’ reflection. Do you remember what you fuckin’ did to me, ye lil’ shit?’’, the shiv found its way to Ein’s throat again as Domagoy turned his head to the side ever so slightly to better display something that Einar only now managed to take notice of. Half of the old man’s left ear was missing, quite crudely removed too.

[Belugnir]

‘’You were a biter back then too, ye petchin’ hound.’’, Domagoy shoved his knee into Ein’s ribs, and with the sight of the man’s missing ear, Einar was reminded of their first meeting as well. A painful yelp came out of him just as the memory came in.

Roughly eight years ago. Domagoy was selling a batch of slaves on the Sunberthan market. A good half of them were barely grown children. One disgusting fat bastard of a merchant had just offered a pretty price for a strong, lean boy, and Domagoy reached for the chain shackled around the neck of a copper-eyed lad, only to have said lad leap at him in an attempt to bite his throat out, although he only ended up tearing half an ear from the slave trader and earned himself a beating for the history books in the process.

‘’Ye bit my fuckin’ ear off on that market square, ye prick.’’, the shiv moved from Ein’s throat to lean against the back of his right ear. ‘’You were lucky that fat fuck still wanted to buy you after that buggery. But I see you managed to wriggle out of his arsehole too, huh?’’, a fierce glint came to Domagoy’s eye. ‘’Now I’m gonna settle the score proper… oooh and what a payback it’ll b--’’ A loosely clasped fist came shoving itself into the weakest spot of any a man. Domagoy tumbled over, grappling at his crotch and yelping in pain. He had won the fight, but this little shyke had still humiliated him with his whole crew to witness. Einar was letting out a fading cackle, muffled by the little clumps of blood he had to spit out.

Soon enough, Domagoy was on his feet, or foot, rather, seeing as the other one was now pressed and rubbing into Einar’s cheek. Man held his shiv again, firmly, and was about to put at least twenty holes into this little cocksucker... and then, despite his boot covering part of the lad’s face, Domagoy saw something in Einar's expression. The slave driver had seen it before. In the eyes of rich men, freshly broken and robbed of all they owned and held dear, in the tired faces of slaves abused to no end, in the standing of starved hounds that could barely walk. This boy was ready, willing, even, to die, and just barely smiling with anticipation for it.

The old man spat at the lad under his heel. ‘’Oh you want me to gut you, that’s what you want. That’s what you wanted from the start, ye mad twat. You’re that sick of this place, huh?'', Domagoy's face betrayed a struggle, he was weighing what to do after this new realization. ''Well, boy. I’ll just ploughin’ leave you here then. I'll not even take you off to sell you as a sodding slave. Why would I? You'd probably fuckin' escape from whatever cocksucker I sell you to in under a week. And gods know that you'd find a chance to set fire to me ship while we're on the way. So you can stay here and suck on some walking dead whoreson’s chode while I go back home, plough a dozen ripe girls and drown myself with wine.’’, the man tossed his shiv into the sand beside Ein and removed his boot from the lad’s cheek, murmuring irritated nonsense as he turned to get back to his crew. Man was somewhat dissatisfied with his own decision of not killing the boy, but also quite proud of his twisted, spiteful triumph. He wouldn’t give the little bugger what he wanted, even if that brought the satisfaction of killing the young whoreson.

‘’Get her going, ya lazy louts, we’re getting off this petchin’ rock!’’, he weaved his hand dismissively, obviously withholding a storm of anger, one that no sailor would dare provoke, no matter how badly the boy humiliated their captain.

Einar never got to witness the Ruined Maiden’s departure. His sight and his awareness faded before the all the sailors were on board again. He did, however, have the strength to be dissatisfied. Dissatisfied with the outcome of his fight, the fact that he was made into a fool about five times over, that he couldn’t answer some twenty or so dozen vulgarities on his account, and that he couldn’t even be freed of all this horseshyke by at least having some useless prick cut his throat and see it done with.

He woke barely before evening, spitting out a caked clump of his own blood. C’mon, ya pricks, you could at least have let me suffocate in me sleep… He complained quietly to whatever god cared to be spiteful enough to still keep him alive. The petchin’ hell do you want from me…? At least his sight wasn’t blurred anymore, well, not for long after he woke at least. He was rather surprised with how well he remembered it all, considered the number of hits he got straight into the head. Domagoy, the beating, the man’s missing ear, the about… six opportunities the old prick had to kill him... Ein rose weakly, bringing a hand to the swollen side of his face, still only able to look properly with but a single eye. His gaze fell upon the shiv in the sand, and out of him came a snort.

Look at what you did, ye old prick… plucking the small weapon from the sand, he stuck it into his belt, knowing the meaning of its presence. A taunt, a challenge. …Now I have to find you and give this shyke back. After a chime, he managed to bring himself to his feet, check to make sure that his jaw wasn’t hanging a foot away from his head, or that his nose wasn’t broken beyond all repair. Somewhat later, he also managed to find his rucksack, apparently Domagoy and his pricks forgot to loot him for all his worth in their captain’s fit of anger… He pulled a single belt of the rucksack over his shoulder, took hold of his poleaxe, and began using it as a third, limping leg on his tiring way back to the Citadel. Oh those buggers at the Surgery Chamber won’t like me one bit when they see me…

Once he would get himself fixed to whatever extent the resident apprentice at the surgery chamber saw fit, Ein would stagger his way back to his room in the Quarter, shove his belongings into the corner, lie down, and begin quietly weeping in lament of his own fate until weakness induced sleep took him over.

[Sayana]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll be happy to look into it.

 

Belugnir

Skills

• Intimidation: 3
• Persuasion: 1
• Observation: 1
• Tactics: 1
• Weapon: Poleaxe: 2
• Endurance: 4
• Flux: 1
• Unarmed Combat: 2

Lores

• Domagoy: Captain of a Sunberthian ship
• Tactics: Insult a man into a fight
• Poleaxe: Catching an opponent's weapon between the spear and upper axe to disarm
• Dirty fighting: Biting
• Endurance: Taking a beating
• Dirty fighting: A punch to the crotch
• Domagoy: Old slave owner, challenged with a shiv
• Intimidation: Mad smile
• Sahova: Unable to leave, unable to die

Miscellaneous

• Injuries to face - two weeks to recover
• Domagoy's Dagger

Comments: Now that is how you get beat up. I liked how he more than met his match, despite coming in thinking he was superior. Even flux didn't seem to quite cut it. Also, I like your creative way to utilize 'flashbacks' even when Sunberth is closed.
Note: This time I gave you a point in flux, however, be mindful about being specific in how the djed is being redirected. Increasing both speed and strength is unlikely, since speed would probably require djed to go to his legs (maybe arms) and strength would likely require the djed in his arms.

Your Grader,

Sayana

Boxcode design: Firenze