Closed Passing the Time (Razkar)

[Kreig Messer]

Summer 513, 32nd 8th Bell.


Kreig was at the docks, the salty wind invading his nostrils as he walked about the area. He was here for a reason really, one very simply reason ‘Bug Razkar’ He supposed bug wasn’t quite the right word, but he thought of nothing else more appropriate, he was a talker and Razkar was not ‘Well, mostly during a fight anyway’ Kreig thought, Kreig noticed that a good number of people didn’t like to talk during a fight, but Kreig was used it…in fact he used that to his advantage, but this was not the time to contemplate on such matters.

The main reason he was searching for the Myrian was because he wished to have a spar, something that Kreig didn’t like but would settle with since he only recently removed the wraps from his head and the Myrian may still be a little sore from his fight with the Akalak. Petch he knew he was on a ship, but which? Obviously not the ships the knight owned or chartered, they sat or floated separately from the ones owned by merchants and fisherman. Before making his way here he had asked around for the Myrian by name and appearance, easy enough since very few Myrians are in Syliras and even less lived in its walls. The only Myrian he heard about living here happened to be a leatherworker and Kreig knew that Raz was no tanner of hides.


Right now he simply waited, his back against a bunch of crates as he eyed a few small ships, some being casinors, ships acting as homes for a single Svefra. He wondered if he was on any such ship, maybe he knew one and was close enough friends that he was allowed to crash there rather than an inn. Really the only way to know was simply wait and see ‘And I definitely have the patience’

x

[Razkar]

It was a well-known fact to those who took an interest in such things that Myrians healed faster than other humans. Most learned men and women believed it to be because of their home: the jungles of Falyndar either killed you or made you stronger, an Übermenschs wet dream bought live with fang and vine and choking disease in every acre of greenery.

Others thought it more to do with the fact they had the blood of a god, however minutely distilled, rushing around their veins. Or their warrior training - beginning the moment they could stand and hold a sword at the same time - simply bred them to be and produce hardened, inhuman or purified (pick your perspective) examples of mankind.

Razkar knew one thing: it was faster, but it still took time. And it fucking hurt.

"Petching shiteing fucking cunt!"

The Myrian winced and cursed a blue, red, yellow, rainbow-colored streak as his hand snapped to his ribs... which, of course, just made the stinging pain worse. He'd twisted too far to get to the jug of water on the railing next to his seat in the shade, and now he was paying for it.

Muttering in his native tongue and cursing his body for not healing fast enough, Razakr cast a glowering look out from the deck of the Goldengrotto, wondering how Turak was doing and hoping it... was... worse...

He frowned. He leaned forwards. That bobbing mass of spiky hair...

"... fuck..."

He swung himself upright, even as he body groaned and his mind told him that yes, sure, making himself a fucking silhouette against the rising sun was the best way to avoid attention. But the human was looking, searching, that much was obvious. His head twisted and turned, looking at each boat as he leaned against a pile of crates, scanning for faces. Whom else would he be there for? Well, perhaps he-

Too late, moron.

-the two of them locked eyes, separated by maybe a hundred feet and five ships, but they knew each other. The human nodded. The Myrian cursed again... then beckoned him over.

Might as well...

As he heard the human's quick, purposeful footsteps approach, he thanks the gods that Edreina was working an early shift. He didn't like those from his... activities, showing up at her boat. He rented space there, a hammock, paid for in training and protection, but it was not his home; it was hers, and her birthright, more importantly. Would he appreciate her bringing people to his clan lands? No, he would not.

"Why you looking for me, human?"

Razkar called down at the human standing before the Goldengrotto on the pier, waiting permission to walk up the ramp, Myrian leaning on the railing, chest and face still bruised in placed, ear a livid mass of red, but at least up and about.

"I not sharing winnings. Should have made bet. Oh, but knights not approve, hmm?"

He sighed, a withering and none-too-subtle parody of sympathy.

"Oh, is too bad..."

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig grinned widely as he suddenly saw the familiar form of Razkar as rested against a railing, his giant shadow was the biggest confirmation as the Myrian had a very distinctive head. As he approached the casinor and just watched Raz from the safety of the land 'Petch, he looks like shyke' Kreig chuckled as he saw the various bruises on the Myrians face. The brawler didn't dare board the ship after that horrible Fall season where he spent most of the season in one resting in the sickbay 'Petch, what a gods awful time that was"


"Oy Raz, I didn't know you could look AFTER the fight" He greeted, only to be be rather rudely asked why he was here. Then the Myrian played the dramatics, asking Kreig if he was here for part of the bloody prize money then pointing out with a rather mocking display of sympathy that Kreig couldn't bet on fights "Petch off you bastard, if I needed your money I'd fight for it. 'Sides I get three free meals a day, so really that eliminates much of the need" He retorted as he rolled his eyes.


"By the way, I came here to ask if you want to spar..... but since your experiancing your time of the month I'll have to settle with calling you very nasty names and spreading nasty rumors" Kreig joked with a cheeky grin "But yeah, are you good enough for one my friend? Or do you still need to rest some more?" The Myrian obviously looked displeased that he happened to come across his current area of stay, he couldn't blame him really but hey, if the Myrian wishe to be alone than he simply had to say no to Kreig's request and he'd leave.
x

[Razkar]

"Petch off, you bastard, if I needed your money I'd fight for it. 'Sides I get three free meals a day, so really that eliminates much of the need."

Some ember of Razkar wanted to leap down there and batter the human's head onto the deck until his teeth were scattered across it like gambling bones, but what did he do instead? He smiled and chuckled. Few humans had the eggs to throw his insults or jibes back at him. They took one look at his ink, his scars, his myriad of scars and just cowered. But Kreig...

"If you say so, male," Razkar said, straightening up and smiling around gritted teeth, determined not to show weakness, "Always funny to see male with more brains than sense."

"By the way, I came here to ask if you want to spar..... but since your experiencing your time of the month I'll have to settle with calling you very nasty names and spreading nasty rumors."

Once again, some primal scream echoed from Razkar's blood and demanded vengeance, but he was already smoothly sliding into a retort. He snorted and shrugged, utter nonchalance in the gesture.

"More? Go ahead. Have heard all. Could be better than one about you mother and baby pony."

"But yeah, are you good enough for one, my friend? Or do you still need to rest some more?"

Razkar inhaled deeply and slowly, eyes never leaving the human, standing below him with a smirk on his face. His gaze went from amused to speculative, colder, harder, trying to balance his own abilities with Kreig's coin. Finally he folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to one side, eyebrow following suit.

"I fight you before, for real fight, not train. This will be spar for training you, so you pay." The human's face clouded and Razkar reacted with another insouciant shrug. "Everyone pay, human. Want to learn? Pay. Twenty-five gold, and I teach all day. Or can leave..."

He reached down and chocked back a grunt as his ribs screamed from inside his flesh, picking up his water and taking a sip.

"Same to me..."

[Kreig Messer]

"What? You want to make the need for me so I CAN fight you for it by taking my money? What a true friend you are, the knights are at a loss without you" Krieg chuckled, it was understandable he supposed, though part of Kreig really wanted to bash the Myrians head in. He removed the money pouch from his waist and tossed it up and down then eyed the Myrian " now what to do, allow the greedy Myrian to some of my money just for a spar.... or say no and allow the sharp tooth bastard rest up from his wounds he's so obviously failing to hide" Oh he already had the answer to that as he voiced his thoughts aloud.


Kreig admittedly thought the Myrian was better than him when it comes to matter of the fist 'Petch, I'm certain the gent far surpasses me when it comes to weaponry' Natasha wouldnt mind, very few squires matched his skill and were all busy with their own training schedules. Plus he could probably get under Razkar's skin some more, though he had no doubt tge Myrain had his barbs ready to be thrown "Besides, I might be able to impart some pointers meself" As unlikely as that would be.

He gave the Pouch a good toss at the Myrian "Catch" He announced as the Myrian quickly caught it "Good boy, now take your fee and get yer arse off that boat....We've some educational prospects to endeavor" He chuckled.
x

[Razkar]

"What? You want to make the need for me so I CAN fight you for it by taking my money? What a true friend you are, the Knights are at a loss without you..."

Razkar just rolled his eyes and didn't even bother answering. He'd heard that before a few times, that wonderful barbarian hypocrisy that said while they should be allowed to charge everyone for everything except sleeping and breathing, the very idea that, say, Myrians would do the same was the height of dishonor.

He did chuckle at the Knights comment, however. "I think you are right. Maybe show them how to fight..."

"Now what to do: allow the greedy Myrian to some of my money just for a spar.... or say "no" and allow the sharp-tooth bastard rest up from his wounds he's so obviously failing to hide?"

Finally Razakr groaned theatrically and shook his head.

"'Greedy'? Oh, barbarian, please rest tongue, it will fall out of head. I train. When people train, train for pay. You train with Knights, and you give loyalty to them. If not, would not train you. If you went to man for meal, or coat, or horse, would you say, 'ah, greedy'? No. You would pay. But because is Myrian and is fighting, suddenly it is greedy?"

Razkar sighed again, and the human seemed stunned by the flood of words that suddenly came out of his mouth. His forearms rested against the railing again and his grimaced.

"Barbarians. I will never understand. And you see what I do to Akalak twice you big when already wounded. Not give self too big a pat on back yet..."

Despite the scorn, Kreig still laughed back and tossed the pouch he'd been sorting through. Razkar hand snapped out and the under-arm arc of the pouch's trajectory had it land neatly in his hand. He jingled the bag, looked inside... noting Kreig's glare - "Oh, not make fence, why petch I trust you?" - then nodded his satisfaction.

"Good boy, now take your fee and get yer arse off that boat. We've some educational prospects to endeavor!"

Razkar snorted but didn't make a move, just turned his back and gestured over his shoulder.

"Why leave boat? Have trained her. Come up. Not touch anything, leave things on side. Not want to break you perfume or something in you pocket..."

The Myrian chuckled at his own humor and craned his neck from side to side, eyes closed, feeling his sore joints crack and bend deliciously. Dressed only in his loincloth, he slipped out of his sandals and turned to see the spiky-haired human mount the plank to the deck. Razkar crossed his arms and tapped his foot, eyebrow arched in exaggerated annoyance.

"In own time, human...?!"

Receipt+25GM

[Kreig Messer]

"Oh petch, you know I was joking so no need to get preachy. 'Sides, we're all greedy petchers, else how else do we get the things we want and need? Your people are no different in that regard so no use trying trying to correct me, I'm a greedy petcher, the knights are greedy petchers and your a greedy petcher, happy now? lets just be happy at the moment that we're not all too greedy as to try and get more than what need" Kreig was certain that without said greed they'd have nothing. As he scratched the back of his head he looked at the Myrian as he checked the insides of his money purse " And about the Akalak, if your still aching from the wounds he gave you, would it honestly be wise to make me consider attacking those wounds during a spar? I mean Petch, you look like shyke, just moving seems to be a pain so its a given I can very likely kick your arse"


He then told him that they would train here 'Petch, there goes my desire to not get on a boat again in this lifetime' He sighed as he approached the Ramp, slow steps as he couldn't help but remember sitting in a bed for the most of Fall. Then Raz with his exageratted tone voiced his impatience "Oh shut it, I have a thing against boats... and it has nothing to do with the water before you say anything, and I'm glad you aren't walking around the city looking like that. I bet even your people and their children get nightmares from just seeing you in a loincloth" Kreig retorted as he finally reached the deck, tossing off his hat, followed by his shirt and boots " 'Sides, are you certain we should train here? one thing I'm not greedy about is the possibility of causing damage to a persons home, I mean the person who owns this ship must be nice if they're allowing people with the capacity of violence, and no thats not an insult as it applies to me too after all, to stay herre" Kreig wondered as cracked his knuckles and poped the joints in his neck "Seriously though, other than the ear how are your wounds? I'd have imagined you better after nearly seven days passing" He said with a hint of concern.
x

[Razkar]

"Oh petch, you know I was joking so no need to get preachy. 'Sides, we're all greedy petchers, else how else do we get the things we want and need? Your people are no different in that regard so no use trying trying to correct me, I'm a greedy petcher, the knights are greedy petchers and your a greedy petcher, happy now? Lets just be happy at the moment that we're not all too greedy as to try and get more than what need."

Razkar chuckled at Kreig's indignant little outburst, shrugging as he worked his wrists around in circles, loosening them up. He twisted on his pelvis... left... ouch... right... petch!

"And about the Akalak, if your still aching from the wounds he gave you, would it honestly be wise to make me consider attacking those wounds during a spar? I mean, petch, you look like shyke, just moving seems to be a pain so its a given I can very likely kick your arse."

Rationality told Razkar that the human had a point, and any wayward blow Kreig put on him in the wrong place would likely have him howling like an infant and laid up for another seven days. But, he pointed out mentally, this is training, not a full-blown fight. Besides...

"If I had miza for every barbarian underestimate stupid savage," he said with a smile, bending over to stretch his spine and nearly falling over at the exertion, before standing back up to grin at Messer, "I not need to charge you for training..."

"'Sides, are you certain we should train here? One thing I'm not greedy about is the possibility of causing damage to a persons home, I mean the person who owns this ship must be nice if they're allowing people with the capacity of violence, and no that's not an insult as it applies to me too after all, to stay here."

Razkar shrugged and gingerly pulled himself out of his weapon harness, but his eyes were unfocused and introspective as he did so. Edreina... this was her boat, after all. Did he really have any right to hold his training sessions here? Well... it couldn't hurt. He would tell her when she returned, of course, but in the meantime, he was making money, being productive...

"I do not think owner will mind," he said with a grunt, setting down his harness, six blades hanging from it and weighing a good twenty pounds. Goddess, he never knew how much weight he carried until he had to take the damn thing off. "As long as clumsy barbarian does not break anything..."

"Seriously though, other than the ear how are your wounds? I'd have imagined you better after nearly seven days passing."

Razkar cocked his head to one side in surprise, hearing a genuine not of worry in the barbarian's voice... and seeing a glimmer of it in those ever-irreverent eyes. He shrugged, feeling upward to gently stroke an ear that still felt twice its usual size.

"Ah... healing. We heal faster than humans, you know? But still takes time. More problem with boredom, with waiting, than pain. Pain you can make go away. Time? Petch... just have to endure..."

Razkar shrugged the thoughts off with a physical gesture, exhaling sharply and smiling, walking towards the human, talking as he did so-

"Training begins now. This not sport. This not contest. This is brawl, and in brawl, first move is usually best and important move. So-"

He slowed down but kept moving forward, hands out, gaze dropped slightly so he could take in all of Kreig as the human readied himself.

"I am enemy. Fight is to start. What is you first move?"

[Kreig Messer]

"Ah... healing. We heal faster than humans, you know? But still takes time. More problem with boredom, with waiting, than pain. Pain you can make go away. Time? Petch... just have to endure..."

“Petch my friend, believe me when I say I know how you feel. It’s actually why I was slow coming up on the deck actually, during the fall season when the knights had some business to take care and were passing through Sunberth, I ended up getting in the largest bloody fight of my life. I survived but ended up healing up on one the ships that knights commanded, trying spending most of the season on a bed” Kreig shuddered as he recalled the time, the dreadful boredom and the so few visitors while he lay on a bed, comfortable but had the most maddening feeling “Its….enough to drive anyone insane, just brings up feelings of uselessness”


He soon took his own battle position, his hands curled into fists and raised just slightly above his head


"Training begins now. This not sport. This not contest. This is brawl, and in brawl, first move is usually best and important move. So-"

"I am enemy. Fight is to start. What is you first move?"

Kreig answered that by charging forward, first throwing a straight left punch and following with a right hook. Considering this was a spar he actually had to hold back on part of the power he was unleashing, After his one-two combo he immediately followed with a left uppercut , immediately following with a left kick to the side ‘hold bach ya idiot’

“You immediately apply pressure, force them to your playing field” was his answer, at least that was what he believed, as he performed his attacks he also watched Razkar’s eyes and by extension the rest of his body “And you also need to keep a watch on what your foe will do next”

x

[Razkar]

Razkar was silently amazed as the words poured out of Kreig, more introspection in one chime than he'd heard from the brawler all season. Such unprompted revelation made him instantly suspicious, like the word were an act, a means to gain pity and thus mold Razkar's amenability towards him...

Or not. Either way, he nodded his agreement.

"Not just no use. No purpose. With no purpose, we are nothing..."

But that didn't mean he slowed down, even if he didn't quite understand why Kreig was holding his fists above his head, where they wouldn't be that much of a guard. Then again, his elbows and forearms could block, and with his hands so high, perhaps it would distract an opponent from his legs?

Apparently not, he thought as Kreig charged at him, left fist jutting out at his jaw-

-only for the Myrian to sidestep smoothly, leaning a little the same way-

-Kreig's right hook slamming into the left forearm he raised in a block, feeling the lack of resolution in the human's blow, but understanding it-

“You immediately apply pressure, force them to your playing field. And you also need to keep a watch on what your foe will do next.”

And then Kreig proved it by swinging his pelvis, aiming a kick at the Myrian's side with his left-

-only for Razkar's fist to swing down inwards, his horizontal forearm snapping in a half-circle, fist going from up top a it blocked Kreig's punch-

-to at the bottom as it knocked away his leg, Myrian bending slightly to do so-

"Not in this fight, friend."

-his right leg snapping out in a short, quick kick at the human's crotch, the two of them close now-

-as Razkar's bought his head snapping forward to crunch into his nose. All at half-speed, avoiding all serious damage but this wasn't the Knights' Training Square, not even the Fighters Pit.

This was Razkar's School Of Brawling, and you always ended up fucked up.

The human reeled back and Razkar straightened up, feeling his ribs aching slightly. Still, he was doing better than he expected, gesturing down to his leg than to his forehead as he spoke, careful that his Common was clear and accurate. He was being paid, after all: no-one paid for bad instruction, or at least they didn't pay twice.

"This is not dance, or game, or fight you do with knights. This is brute force, and cunning. No stories or songs wrote about brawl. Only put enemy down before he do you, and that mean fast and nasty."

He put up his fists, mirroring the human.

"That? This? Obvious. When brawl start, you know how start. People don't... put up dukes!" He spat the term in disgust, though he still hadn't got around asking Edreina what it meant. "Not make challenge! You just hit petching bastard! These?" He waggled his hands. "People expect fist. They expect punch. So do what they not expect-"

And he kicked out again, a mirror of the move he'd done a tick before.

"Go low. Hit man hard enough in balls, he not get back up. Wear steel end shoe, if you can. Crush balls like eggs, keep him down for long time. And head-" he patted his forehead "-smash into nose, hard enough, make man blind. And if you close? Beginning of fight?"

Razkar stepped back, arms suddenly up as if placating, face a mask of injured and reluctant argument. Kreig watched as a change came over the Myrian, his voice became softer, almost amiable.

"Friend, friend, not need to fight, just-"

And then, as fast as Kreig could blink, Razkar's forehead, no, his entire upper body jerked forward, his forehead leading the way. The Myrian patted the small of his back.

"Power for headbutt come from back. Throw all body into hit, all focus on forehead? Very dangerous. So..." He straightened back up, looking almost scholarly in the most savage and depraved way possible. "Fight nasty and not expected. That is what need. Fist? Punch to head? Maybe knock out. Maybe not. If had bottle in you hand, would show much better. End fight before is fight."

Razkar circled back around to the human, waiting for him to get back and ready, then flicked a glance up and down him. "See where you look? Look at hands. Look at eyes, at chest. So? So that is only half of body. Eyes are on top of body so, is natural, you look on top."

He grinned and patted his elbows and waggled his toes.

"But these? These can be surprise. Because they are below eyes, and if enemy is close, or even at table, enemy not see them. Now... try again."