[Pig's Foot Tavern] Good Times (Open)

[Alexander Vorg]

Vorg sighed, watch opportunity walk away once again. This wasn’t the first time that he had turned down an assassination request, and he knew that he would be a lot richer if he did. But for whatever reason he couldn’t let anyone around him die, no matter how much he knew they deserved it. It was so stupid that he had this weird little moral code of his. The man who’s life he had just saved from Marweather hadn’t even attempted to thank him. He had just run off without a parting glance. But this was something that he decided a long while ago. He would not kill and he would not let others kill. Nobody deserved to die. He turned, expecting to see the mysterious woman walk out of the door. Instead, she stopped at that yellow-armed Isur and dropped off a note. Vorg’s eyes narrowed. He knew that the note had a place written on it, and that was the place where the woman would be. And she would have the same request, but of someone else. Someone who, he knew, might say yes. And kill an innocent man. Vorg got up, just waiting for the formidable looking bodyguard and the huge gray wolf (a wolf?) to follow the mysterious figure of death to exit the tavern before rushing over to the Isur’s table. “You can’t do it. If you do, you’ll be her’s forever. ” By this, of course, he meant that killing tears the soul. Killing once would leave you vulnerable to other offers, and he would eventually end up as some kind of contract killer. Vorg hoped that this was enough to convince him. He didn't know what else to say, and if he couldn't convince this man, he would have to go stop all of them by himself. And that meant stopping this one in the bar itself.

[Aberdon]

Quiet was the heart of wisdom, and a speechless man heard more than a talkative man ever could. Aberdon listened to what he could from his position, sipping from his mug of water slowly as they went about their business. He didn't intrude, did not lean in when her voice dropped into registers he could not make out. To be more known than he already was...that would be foolish.

She was dangerous.

Instead he maintained his silent vigil...until the scrap of paper drifted to the table beside him, her voice echoing in his ears. He watched her go, taking the paper offered and tucking it away. Finishing off his water, he watched the guard and the wolf go...a creature that, until recently, had not seemed to be in the bar.

The thought was sobering, even without a history of drinking to accompany his observations. He got a brief glance at the paper, knew the building well. He had passed it with his master a few years ago, the smelly old monster pointing it out and grinning. Not a place for good little slaves...not a place for people who weren't invited.

It had a reputation, cutthroats and murderers were made or broken there.

But Sunberth was a vicious place. Without a reputation, it was unlikely one would ever have enough credibility to take the information needed. Already he was an outsider by birth, ostracized in the human centric society. She may be able to give him purpose here, weight to his words.

And if it was killing she wanted...

Well he had done it before.

The bald human rushed to his table, just as Aberdon was standing. He gave the fellow a glance, noting his straightforward manner, the concern for a stranger...and a nonhuman at that.

He didn't belong in Sunberth, not by a long shot...and he had turned down a good job.

The Isur could not afford the luxury to do the same.

"A Job is a job," he muttered darkly, leaving the cup on the table and adjusting the crossbow on his back, the gauntlet on his right arm, "I only stand to waste a little time by seeing her about it." He turned his back on Vorg, walking toward the door.

"Besides," he said, casting a gaze behind him, "I will never belong to anyone...ever again."

[Alexander Vorg]

There was no warning. There was no, "Then I'm going to have to stop you," line or even a yell. One moment they were talking, and the next Alex's right elbow was less than a millimeter from the other man's right temple, still speeding towards its target. At the exact same time that he sent his elbow to his opponent's head, Alex sent his left hand towards the man's own left, vying to disarm him of his hammer. Simultaneously, his right leg sped towards the front leg of the man's stool. If they all hit, the Isur would be hit in the face, disarmed, and sent crashing to the floor all at the exact same time. Alex knew that he had to finish this as quickly as possible. He knew that his master wouldn't have told him so much about the Isur if they were weak. There incredibly dense bone structure would make them a very tough opponent to beat with his unarmed combat style. He knew that their jewel-like arm was practically steel, the epitome of what all human martial art's masters strive for. Even he rest of their body was made up of thick muscle, coming from working at the forge. This muscle was also covered with thick skin. This combination of thick skin, steel-like bones, and incredible musculature could be emulated by humans through intense training, but Alex wasn't quite there yet. Even after years of hitting his limbs against steel, creating micro fractures in his bones which would harden them to the point of steel, he was not yet to the level that was natural of the Isur. Although their bone structure made the Isur natural fighters, Alex knew that even they had weaknesses. All the weakness of the human body, besides the kidney which was to well protected by muscle and skin, would work to a lesser extent on the Isur. Hopefully, Alex would be able to subdue the man before he had time to unleash his superior body. He didn't want to feel the object of his master's love with his own body.

[Leviathan]

Alexander was fast, prone to violence, but he had a problem with tunnel vision. Perhaps Vorg's master wasn't as great as he thought, because if the man truly taught him well, he would have taught him the very basics of things, such as brawling without warning could cause a difficult respond. Merv, for an old man, moved Surprisingly swift as he vaulted over the counter of the tavern bar and, as soon as Vorg finished his flurry of an assault on the Isur, punched the bald man square in the nose. Vorg's vision would flutter, lightning striking that sensitive sight as he hit the ground, not even responding in time to catch or embrace his fall. The Barkeep stood over Alex, ignoring the Isur who may or may not have been injured from the attack. A kick to the chest, and Vorg knew instantly that something snapped. He didn't hear it, but the pain shot through his body like a tremor of fire. His nose was bleeding profusely as well. Merv may have been an older man, but there was no doubt, especially not in Vorg's mind now, that he wasn't one of the best, hardest hitting men in Sunberth. You didn't run a place like a tavern in a city like Sunberth without learning how to beat a man. "Stranger, if'n you can still walk, I suggest you leave this place at once and ne'er return. If'n not, I'll have to throw you out." A broken nose and fractured rib. Vorg's head felt like he's been trampled by a stampede of crazed humans, not to mention he was dizzy. Merv Continued ot hover over him, ready to stay true to his word if Vorg wasted any more time here.

[Alexander Vorg]

Alex, caught completely by surprise by the barkeeps furious attack, was thrown across the room. He felt, as he had felt all to often before, 2 of his ribs break with the vicious kick to the chest. Alex looked around stupidly, trying to see through the blood. Though he couldn't see it, he knew that his nose had obtained a new shape. He could feel nothing but the pain that was arcing through his body. Alex tried to stand, but his arms wouldn't listen to him because of the pain and he ended up just flopping over onto his stomach, groaning. Trying again this time aided by a nearby chair, he succeeded in standing up. Alex was not only physically, but mentally caught by surprise by this sudden and very painful intrusion. Why would Merv, normally quite fine with allowing his customers to fight as long as they didn't break anything. Marweather had almost killed the thief. He had almost died once in this establishment. Not the mention the numerous bar fights that he had seen here whether he was involved or not. So why, when Alex had not made any move to hurt the man's precious bar in any way, had Merv attacked him so out of the blue? Though he had no idea what he had done to deserve all this, Alex knew a lost cause when he saw one. Alex turned towards the door and dragged his feet out, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

[Aberdon]

A few of Vorg's blows made contact, knocking the Isur sprawling to the bar floor. Briefly he tasted the stained wood planking, the smell of old hops and broken dreams. Distantly he recalled the words...to stop him. What did the bald man care for a job? No one was righteous in this crooked place, but if one tried to beat the corruption out of every person here, the entire city would be filled with broken jaws.

Merv interceded on his behalf, likely to save his bar the trouble of damages than any kinship with the nonhuman. Aberdon took his feet, the right side of his face throbbing lightly. It was a good blow, but his own dense skin and bone structure absorbed most of the punch.

Vorg picked himself up from the floor as well, nursing an injury far worse than the kind he'd given Aberdon. The Isur watched the fighter stumble out of the inn, giving a short nod of thanks to the bartender before following Vorg to the street.

The man was injured, that much was clear, but it went without saying that one good turn deserved another...and a tiny spark of rage fanned itself to fire in the Isur's heart.

He followed Vorg for a small while, always a ways away, always watching him.

His chance came when the fighter stumbled toward an alley, likely just dealing with the weakness of his own physical structure. Powering forward, Aberdon lowered his yellow arm and rammed the man into the darkness between buildings, pausing at the entrance with his face set in a cold grimace.

"You're the kind of man who attacks another's back...in kind to your dishonor, I'll be the kind of man to attack a wounded opponent. Now stand, unless you'd rather me kick you were you've fallen."

[Alexander Vorg]

"Forgive me for being the kind of man who doesn't revel in murder ya' stupid lamb," said Vorg with gritted teeth," And even if I didn't give any warning, I attacked you from the front no foul play." Vorg knew in his heart that he was royally screwed. He had absolutely no chance of victory against the Isur in his current state, and the best that he could do would be to talk his way out. Vorg ran through everything that he could think of in the way of things he could use again the Isur in a verbal battle.

Vorg knew that the yellow-arm was not normal of the Isur, and this might catch him off guard. There was the fact that he was portraying himself to be the righteous one, when he would soon be off to kill an innocent man for the benefit of some unknown psychopath. Then Vorg remembered the other man's words in the bar. I'll never belong to anyone...ever again. In Sunberth, all that could mean is that he was a former slave, which could work for him beautifully.

"By the way, notice my use of the word lamb. As in sacrificial lamb. I was trying to save your ass, because once you kill for them, you're done. You'll be her bitch , its just be a matter of time. She will run you down like a slave and sick some other dog on you once you're usefulness has run out. You work with people like that and you're the one that's going to suffer. A beating from me, and you'll be out of it for a couple days tops. Working for them and you'll be in the next life before my nose stops bleeding." said Vorg forcefully, wincing several times during the sermon because of the pain. He spoke the truth, or at least what he believed was the truth. It was now time for the bluff and finisher. "And don't think that you're gonna get off stock free if you do decide to do me in. My nose may be just a tad bloody, but the rest of my body is just fine. I'm offering to let you go. If you don't take me up on my kind offer, you can just wake up dazed tomorrow and think about your murdering tendencies."

[Aberdon]

Aberdon moved quickly, grabbing Vorg by the front of his shirt and pulling him to his feet. It was a feat for the smaller one, but Aberdon's eyes burned in their sockets, his teeth gritted in restrained fury. He held his right hand up to Vorg's throat, the harsh edged spikes of his gauntlet just inches from the mans throat.

"If you had the strength to stop me, you would have outside the bar. Don't play coy with me, boy, I'm not buying what you're selling." Letting his arm drop a bit, Aberdon stood back from the man. He really didn't belong here. He looked the part, certainly, brutish and rough with muscles carved of exertion and practice. But his eyes were caring...the kind and compassionate things Zeltivans were.

He was a Syliran knight in a cutpurse town.

Tragic fate for him.

"You don't know Sunberth well, do you?" The question was soft, lacking the force of Aberdon's words before. The Isur didn't look away however. His gaze was still cold and unrelenting, "A man can't get anywhere without taking the work offered him. I don't revel in killing, but I don't fear it either. Work is work and the best my opponent has is a chance to defend himself...more than the victims of a poisoner get, or those who fall to an arrow from the distance. I will pursue whatever means I can to reach my goals and I won't stop simply because you think it's wrong."

He stepped back from Vorg, looking up at him gravely. "You want to stop me? It's on your head to do it. If you think you can take me out now, try it, and we'll see who's more sore in the morning."

The Isur spit to the side, glaring back at the fighter with reproach. "You know nothing of slavery. Speak of it so lightly again and I'll show you what it feels like to be helpless."

[Alexander Vorg]

Alex instictvely put his chin down, behind the spikes, to protect his throat. He then looked down at the sharp objects that were inches from his throat.You know what? You've opened my eyes. Killing is great. Having blood under your fingers and the knowledge that you just snuffed out an innocent life without remorse or pity. Best feeling in the world! And of course, you right. I have no idea what slavery is like, but it couldn't be anything like this. I mean, all you would be doing is" A pained wince. "Killing people. And then the woman throws you a bone. Then you can kill more people. But whatever floats your boat. You don't have to worry about me stopping you. Go on and have fun.

Alex knew that these could be his last words. Although he sounded sarcastic, Alex did agree with the other man. He knew that people who lived in Sunberth killed. If you didn't, it was like having a handicap. Other guys just walked all over you. But for what ever reason, Alex just couldn't do it. He didn't know why, all he knew was that he couldn't kill. And that was why he didn't belong here. He didn't know where he would go, but he needed to leave Sunberth.

Seriously, your message is clear. I'm leaving Sunberth. I just don't belong with you cutthroat bastards.