Closed A Lesson Learned is a Lesson Earned

[Garret Sawyer]

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Timestamp - Sunrise, 34th of Winter, AV 513

The snow shimmered as is fell down towards the gravelled street, the pure white fluffy flakes gently lying on each other as they blanketed Sunberth, making the city that normally seemed like a patchwork quilt with a thousand different styles hastily cobbled together now seem so uniform and indistinct. The sun had risen above the untainted horizon, casting a pale glow across the both the clouded sky and frozen ground, tainting both in a medley of warm colours; deep reds and pale oranges were painted across the sky while the snow was tinted in lightest of yellows as sun continued to rise higher above the horizon. Groups of young children ran through the streets, breaking the blank canvas as they welcomed the first of the snow in Sunberth by throwing it at cold bones and red faces belonging to both themselves and passers-by that were unfortunate to get caught in the crossfire.

A cracked leather boot crunched with each step it took through the freezing snow, leaving dirty brown streaks mingling amongst the yellows and whites that normally made up its composition. A pair of rough, filthy hands clapped together, the pale flesh rubbing against one and other in attempt to bring some warmth flowing into his cold fingertips. Sharp green eyes challenged a passing urchin to throw an icy lump of a snowball that he had been hardening for the past few chimes at him, daring him on just so they could justify a violent response but the urchin merely avoided his gaze and walked on by.

"By the gods' it's cold" he moaned to himself but he truly could not complain. While his coat was wrapped tightly around his body it was made of no more than cheap wool, more likely sheared from a stray dog than an actual sheep. It was for this very reason why Garret was now striding towards the Seaside Market with a look of inexorable intent upon his face, his tent seldom felt any warmth at night now as the Tent City became more and more crowded, even the long term residents failed to find space for a fire without burning their tent down let along some travelling mercenary who was likely to leave before the fires changed.

As the streets began to fill the tangy smell of sea salt and fermenting seaweed that flooded his nostrils confirmed that he was in the Seaside Market. "That bloody fishy smell is overpowering, I wonder if that is an indicator of goods sold here or the deals that occur?" he thought ungraciously to himself as he wandered through the market, his right hand unconsciously slipping in between his shirt and coat to grasp the familiar leather bound hilt that always hung by his waist as he eyed the merchants and their often numerous guards.

His feet slowly stepped over each other as he examined the merchandise that lay spread out across the various stools in front of him. Most were simply common things; fish, meat, odd baubles and trinkets, and even some suspiciously cheap weaponry but none of this piqued his interest much. For a time he was stopped by a rather short merchant, with a dark complexion, large full lips, and smooth, round face who was clad in the finest silks and had such a perfumed body that it nearly disguised the fishy stench of the market.
"You look like you can handle a weapon, and listen to orders" He spoke in a exotic accent that Garret was unfamiliar with though the merchant insisted of speaking the common tongue slowly, pronouncing every syllable clearly so his words had the upmost clarity.
"That I can" Garret replied rather matter-of-factly.
"Then I may have a job that might interest you. My man here..." he gestured blindly to the tall guard on his left, he had a grim, unshaven face that simply stared down at Garret, like he was dissecting his strengths and weaknesses "Dwells in The Drunken Fish when he is off duty, approach him either tonight or tomorrow night if you are interested, though make your mind up fast, I think there is no lack of meat in this scum hole of a city"
Garret nodded "I'll be there" he declared.

"Good..." The merchant said clapping his hairy hands together, rubbing them eagerly "Now let us speak no more of work, perhaps I could interest some fruit, an apple perhaps?" he asked, his speech flowing more fluently as he had no doubt rehearsed this line many a time, even decorating the end of his line with a flourish, sweeping his hand around as he gestured towards a crate full of big, fat, dark red apples that contrasted greatly with the snowflakes that fell on them "Some men have told me they are so sweet and juicy that they are worth dying for, even just for a couple of bites"
Garret fished out his purse from his coat's left pocket, gently rolling it in his hand as the merchant eyed it greedily, he could probably tell how much was in it just by looking at it; Garret never put more than ten Golden Mizas in it at once for obvious reasons "No thank you" he said, returning his purse to his left pocket "I find apples bitter myself" he replied as he began to walk back to the bustling crowd "I'll see your man later" he added as he twisted his head over his shoulder to see that the merchant had already turned towards his next customer, a tall, lean, scruffy man before Garret was swallowed up by the crowd.

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

It was cold. That was Eleazar's first thought as he woke that morning. He had never liked the winter season, winter meant snow and hail but more importantly, it meant ice. Slippery ice which had been the cause of his literal down fall more than once. Groaning as he forced muscles that had solidify over the frozen night to move, Eleazar threw the covers off his body and stretched. His hands quickly returned to rub away the goose bumps developing on his skin. It was way too cold. Snatching up his shirt and coat from where they had been acting as his pillow, the thief quickly dressed himself against the cold. Fishing inside his coat's left hand pocket, his prised silver rings slipped onto his first and ring fingers. Lastly came his worn out boots, before he left and locked up his personal treasure trove of thievery at the Sunset Quarter to brave the chills of the morning. Tottering out onto the street, a scowl etched onto his face quickly as flakes of white dusted his hair and beard. His bare hands were quickly shoved under armpits as vaporous fog appeared around the teens mouth with each shivering breath. It was too petching cold at this time of year. Stomping awkwardly through the snow brought the sounds of the busy morning streets closer to his ears. Gritting his shattering teeth, Eleazar kept on going, headed for the Seaside market, where he could get some breakfast and maybe a scarf or two. The rotting fish smell of the market hadn't eased at all with the weather, it was possible it had gotten worse. The thieves stomach did flips in itself, he probably would have thrown up if he had had anything to eat over the past few days. As it was the reek of the merchandise invading his nose, only briefly stopped his course. Long enough apparently for one of the little brats, that infested the city like vermin, to lob a snowball his way. Grabbing a handful of the snow that was a safe colour, the pest was soon taught to respect his elders. The group of children surrounding him, laughed at their companions punishment before going back to causing trouble. Clearing the remaining snow from his person, the dark haired teen began to scout the market for something edible. On past occasions he had stolen the available fish, only to be sick for days afterwards. Having learned his lesson, Eleazar was now keeping a weather look out for anything safe enough to try and get. Many of the stalls at the market didn't even sell food, even fewer sold any thing small enough to grab without getting killed. The merchants were learning to keep plenty of hired-out-help around. And with this many walls of muscle hanging around, the teen doubted he would be able to snatch anything big without getting clobbered. Wondering onwards, a few of the stall owners quickly muttered to their pig-faced helpers, they knew him. Well, they knew his face. Very few people knew his name or much about him apart from the fact he was fast and trouble. He wasn't going to get anything here, at any rate. Prowling onwards a flash of red in the corner of his eye halted Eleazar's steps. There was his first meal in far too long. Big, juicy in a taunting bright red, being offered to a bearded man who was at this moment reaching for his money bag. Backing up the thief made it look as if he was interested in a stall selling weapons. Personally Eleazar had issues around weapons, he would never steal one and nor would he ever carry one, least he become like the thugs in the streets that had scared him as a kid. Glancing the targeted stall was large; crammed with useless thin fabrics, metal items, fishes, meat and fruit. The dark red apples were near the edge of it and the only guard was behind the stall next to the owner. Perfect. Drifting away from the smelly man now trying to sell him 'one of the greatest weapons of all time' for a stupendous price, he wandered over to his target. The bearded man from earlier had left, making him the only customer at the moment. Slowly he examined the trinkets and silks available watching the stall owner eye him greedily, hands clasped together ready to move in case he made purchase. The guard was keeping a close eye on him as he shifted down to the fruit, gingerly picking up one of the exotic fruits on offer before returning it. He did this again before finally picking up the biggest apple there. Turning it round he made a face like he had seen something he didn't like about it, then adopted a thinking pose. It was around about that time two more people ventured over to the stall from the crowd, questioning about the price of fish. The moment the guard and stall owners eyes were off him, Eleazar ran.It didn't take long for a shout to cry out across the market and for the clean-shaven guard from the stall to be on his heels. Panting as he made his escape, Eleazar kept risking glances over his shoulder to track the man's position. The guard was as fast as the thief but was he as agile? Skimming around the side of a few stalls, the thief barely dodged a frozen puddle that he had clocked on his prowl that morning. Behind him the guard didn't manage to manoeuvre in time, turning into a human cannon ball as he crashed into another stall. Laughing at the man's misfortune, the teen took a triumphant bite from his prize as he raced past the bearded man who had been visiting the stall just before him.

[Garret Sawyer]

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"Alms..." A quivering voice asked the crowd as they went about their mundane business around the market, ignoring the balding, old beggar dressed head to toe in shit stained rags with a blistered red face covered in weeping sores and bleeding gashes "Alms... Please sers be generous" he begged again revealing a distinct lack of teeth and severe rotting in the remaining few.
"Piss off" Garret barked at the man, spitting at the icy ground in front of the beggars ice blue feet
"Please ser, if I can't afford food I'll freeze to the death" The beggar reasoned with him, and he was true as well. He could barely fill out the thin rags he was clad in, any exposed flesh of his was bony and sickly pale, and even his black wiry beard had turned white as the snowflakes trapped between his hairs started to build up with each moment he spent outside exposed to the weather.
"I said piss off, and you'll just that or I'll make sure you'll bloody well regret it" Garret threatened, staring down at the beggar until he shuffled off slowly, his old bones only letting him move so fast after all.

Garret set back off along the path, making sure to walk around the flawless surface of a frozen puddle that would claim the balance of any man or woman foolish enough to walk across it. "There must be a stall around here selling clothes, though I suspect with all the demand for them they'll try to bleed my purse dry" He thought as he weaved through the crowd of workers "That's if some bloody cutpurse hadn't got to it first, by the gods' this city is where all the scum ends up, it truly is the shi-" His train of thought was interrupted when a sudden clattering erupted from behind.

"What in the name of the bloody gods is going on?" he thought as he tried to peer back through the crowd where the source of the disturbance originated from. From his position he could see a guard, his face obscured to Garret but his armour looked familiar, sprawled out on the ground groaning as his armour slid uselessly on the ice preventing him from getting up. Rather more worryingly, to the average man in the street, a dark, crimson pool of blood started to form. It flowed from the cracked head of the beggar who must have been knocked to one side as the guard fell, a white streak of bone could be seen from the dark, gaping wound as blood continued to gush out, it was an uncontrollable torrent of blood that filled the pathway, sending men and women alike running off in all directions away from it, screaming and crying as they did so.

A young man fled from the scene, a dark red apple clutched in his hands as he ran triumphantly away from the guard, leaving a trail of death and pain in his wake that he must have been happy with.
"Stop him" A voice called out from one of the stalls "Stop the thief"
That was a bad thing to say, as soon as those words were spoken a dozen or so figures that casually walked around the market broke into a fierce run, unaware that it was not their illicit activities being called out but this stop them nonetheless from panicking, and as they began to run away on frozen ground causing more chaos as they fell to the ground, taking out crates, stalls and even other people before hitting the ground themselves.
"Stop the thief!" The voice demanded once more as the lanky youth drew closer to Garret but he made no effort to stop him, sure he had no love for criminals, in fact he killed them regularly but it was none of his concern so he was quite content to let the lad go until the voice added "Mizas to anyone who stops him!"

Well that changed everything to Garret. As soon as the lad passed him, Garret shot out his left hand, he felt his finger clasp the thin fabric that the lad wore and tugged back on it hard to send him hurtling towards the ground as his right hand pulled out his morningstar from his leather belt. Gripping the hilt tightly he slipped it out from him coat and with all his strength he swung it at the lad's bollocks.

Crack

The spiked ball smashed into a small frozen puddle just a couple of inches beneath the thief's balls, sending cracks ricocheting outwards along the ice as Garret yanked the weapon out of the ice, sending small shards spraying out in all directions. His left hand clenched, forming a tight fist as his arm arced wide, aiming for his young, tender face while Garret hoped that the lad wouldn't fight back to much.

He didn't want to feel guilty after all.

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

It happened quickly. One minute he was speeding away prise in hand, next someone grabbed him and threw his sorry skinny form on the ground. Dazed he watched the bite marked apple roll out of his hand, away into the mud, only for it to be trodden in the panic. What had happened? He had escaped, right? At least the thief thought he had. Now his breakfast was crushed in with the snow and mud. There was always tomorrow. A loud crack quickly shook him out of his self loathing. There in between his knees, going right through his coat and into the icy puddle beneath, was a large spiked ball. Eyes wide Eleazar, slowly began to follow the chain attached to it back to its owner. He didn't even get half way before it disappeared from in between his legs again, causing shards of ice to dance through the air. What the...? His thought wasn't even finished when the ball returned, speeding down towards his face. A sharp intake of breath and an even sharper turn, sent him skidding out it's paths before another resounding crack signalled it smashing into the puddle for a second time. On his stomach on the ground he finally saw his adversary. Tall and stocky too, the man was in his late thirties and dressed poorly for the current weather. Well, so was Eleazar but he was a street rat. Weaponised and muscled, he was obviously the hired-out-help type of guy, so why was he....? “That's him! I'll give any man Mizas for his head!” Oh right. Panic covered his face, this wasn't good. Leaping off the ground, the teen took off running once again, only to have a different man take a swing at him with a sword. Ducking out the way the blade skimmed the thief's cheek, allowing blood to pour out. Hissing at this Eleazar, kicked the man in the back of the legs before running straight into his companion armed with a large club. Turns out most of the pig-faced guards were all for some extra Mizas. But were they up for sharing? Adopting a surrendering gesture, the thief turned to the growing mob. “Alright, Gents you 'ave mi. So who's goin' ta get 'e reward out of you lot, huh?” All attempts to get him stopped as each man turned to one and other before the sword man yelled, “Don't you try and start anything You filthy street rat! It's obvious who is going to get the Reward!” A cocky grin appeared on the teens face as her wiped at the swordman's 'scatch' with his sleeve, causing blood to smeer over his cheek. “Ay supose 'at'll be you, 'en Sir?” “Hey, I never said-” “I need those Mizas for my girl and lad! The reward is mine!” “Oi! Shyke-head! Those Mizas are mine!” It didn't take long for punch to be swung or for the mob of guards, mercenaries and hired muscle to turn on each other. In the middles of all this chaos was it's instigator, dodging swipe and kick toward his person. The brawl was spreading out, spilling out over onto stalls, merchants and bystanders alike. A few smart people were running to steer clear of the chaos, while the alleyway scum were taking advantage of the unguarded merchandise. With no local police force, the fighting would most likely continue until only one victor remained. Knowing he wouldn't want to find out who this victor was Eleazar decided it was time to make his escape. With the mob thinning out as the bodies piles up, he saw his window of opportunity. Weaving through the men, he sprung off his long legs, diving over an abandoned clothes stall. Landing in a pile on the other side, he quickly liberated a scarf from it before searching for the nearest alleyway. It was a good way off but would have to do. Running behind the petrified merchants, the thief hurtled towards the alley. Only to come to a sudden stop when the first man, the one with the spiked ball on a chain, stepped into his path. Oh shyke.

[Garret Sawyer]

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Garret smashed at the ground again as the little shit managed to dodge his attack, he winced as he felt the spikes strike the dirt ground under the ice, the force causing his arm to shake painfully to his very bones and the idea of his weapon blunting did little help his normally cheerful disposition. He was about to pull his weapon once more out of the ice but before he could get a firm grip on the hilt he felt a hand with an vice-like grip grab his shoulder and yank him back, succeeding in pulling him away from both the thief and his morningstar but failing to pull him backwards as Garret glared at his confronter.

Scruffy and unkempt the man was around the same age as Garret, with a wide nose and greedy, pig-like eyes embedded in his skull he was clearly nothing more than a common worker as opposed to a hired-arm like Garret, he should have decided to stay out of it, instead the man clearly wanted to claim a few Mizas for himself.
"He's mine, I ain't lettin' you have that money!"
Garret said nothing back as he swung both his hands around quickly, they smacked either side of the man's head as Garret yanked it towards him whilst bringing his own head forwards. They collided with such a force that sent both men stumbling backwards, cursing vile things under their breath as they did so. Garret felt his head spin, his vision blurred and his head throb in pain, he had seen that done before but hadn't expected it to hurt him so much, fortunately it appeared his opponent fared worse than himself as he heard a clattering of metal and a fluttering of chickens as the man fell backwards into a stall of poultry for sale, cursing rather loudly as the old woman who tended the stall began beating him over the head with what looked like a frying pan.

As his vision began to sharpen he looked back down at the ground to find only his morningstar there "For fuck sake!" He cursed "Where has that bloody bastard got to?" His eyes swept the market, but it seemed in a rather short period the thief had managed to incite chaos. Thieves ran off with goods, merchants chased them while their own guards fought each other for the sake of a few Mizas and some people had just joined in for no apparent reason other than to have some fun and crack some skulls. "Probably best if I just circle the chaos" Garret thought wisely to himself, the fight was expanding at an alarming rate as several more swords joined the fight, cutting up fellow guards and unfortunate bystanders alike as the street began to turn a rather ominous shade of red.

With his weapon in hand Garret circled the fight, trying to spot the man throughout the chaos but it was a tricky task, in Sunberth everyone from a distance tends looks like a common thug or a thief and right now the market was full of them. That was until he saw a tall, lean figure break away from the crowd, unarmed and with no stolen goods in his hand Garret assumed it must have been him. He decided to break into a run, knocking several people to the side of the path and even ungracefully jumped over a stall as he tried to intercept the theif.

As he stepped in front of the alleyway the figure halted. It was him alright, with a blood running down his cheek and a black scarf wrapped around his neck Garret was sure it was him. He adjusted his grip before walking forward, swinging his morningstar around both to intimidate the thief and get a sense of its weight.

But Garret wasn't though only one who had tracked him down.

Behind the thief approached a heavily armoured guard, with a face that grim and clean shaven Garret instantly remembered him from the food merchant's stall and their eyes met each other's. They both nodded at each other as they shuffled up to the thief, the guard was unarmed but he was formidable opponent even without a weapon but Garret wanted to make sure the thief was taken by surprise.
"It's nothing personal lad..." he said, trying to distract the lad "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's life for you"
The guard to right behind the lad now and if he didn't realise he was there he soon would as they both nodded to each other, rather unsubtly on Garret's part. A strong arm suddenly shot out, and wrapped itself around the lad's neck from behind while Garret lunged forward, his morningstar whistled through the air as it made its way towards his chest, not with the usual force behind it though, the merchant would probably want him alive after all.

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

The man began advancing towards Eleazar, swinging his weapon dangerously around in front of his. Oh Shyke. Oh Shyke. Edging backward over the frosted cobbles, the thief finally got a good look at the man. He was the near enough the same height as the teen with an old worn face. Definitely stockier than himself, the guy looked like he would throw a mean swing with or without the spiked ball on a stick. It was them the man spoke to him for the first time, in a gruff deep voice which matched his build well. "It's nothing personal lad...You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's life for you" “Isn't et just, mi dear sir.” Almost as a reply, the man nodded his head but unfortunately it wasn't a nod of agreement that his head bowing signalled. It was a nod of “okay now”. Eyes widening, the thief didn't have time to turn around as a thick arm shot out wrapping around his neck like a noose. The motion caused him to smash into the owner of the arm's metal chest plate, forcing the air from his lungs. Struggling to regain his breathin pattern in the unknown attackers hold, the old man closed in on him. Not good! As the man drew back his arm, Eleazar realised to his horror that he intended to bring his weapon down on his head. Images of spikes piercing his skull threw his body in a frenzied panic to protect it self. Throwing up one arm to block the oncoming weapon, the other grabbed at the head behind him as he writhed in the guard's grasp like the market's smelly fish. Suddenly the other arm enclosed around his body trapping his defending arm, reducing the thief's wriggling greatly. The armoured brute behind him quickly became his last concern as the mace like end of the morningstar ripped into the upper apart of his bony right arm, dotting the snow in speckled red. Pain blossomed over his arm as a scream tear out of the teen's throat echoing out in the cold air of the brawling market. The cry quickly became feral as his struggling resume with tri-fold the effort. Kicking in a crazed manner at the older man, he only succeed in pushing himself and his captor off balance, sending them both into the pile of off coloured pink snow. The fall loosen up the grip on Eleazar, allowing for him to give a sharp elbow to the guard's groin region. As the pig faced idiot curled up in pain, the thief threw off his grip on him, aiming another elbow to the face this time just to be sure. A nice unhealthy crack sounded as more blood sprayed over snow. Getting to his feet, he didn't see the spikes travelling towards his face, not till he was soaring through the air from the blow. Crashing down on the cobbles the world went fuzzy, cold and white. Pain throbbed across his body, along with a cold sensation around his head, making the thief to come to believe his head was current face first in a large pile of snow. Bringing his left hand up to his face the teen grasped some of the snow in his palm. It was gritty and cold compared to the burning heat coming from his blood, or maybe that was just the pain. It didn't really matter, he didn't really have the consciousness to move much at the moment. Footfalls moved closer to where he lay accompanied by a low grumbling. It was the old man. He had come to collect his prise. Rough hard hands tugged him over to lie on his back before slipping under his armpits and heaving him up onto his shoulder with a loud grunt. More words were spoken, none of them were distinguishable out to the haze surrounding his mind. In truth, he felt a bit like a baby being carried around like this. It reminded him of his mother, she would always carry him around everywhere. Called him her little cub, she did. A beautiful, protective, strong woman. Oh, had he really started crying? Salt water droplets hit the moving cobbles underneath him. His dead family was an easy mental wound to rip open a fresh. Eleazar hadn't even realized he was thinking aloud when he caught the treacherous words of “Ay want ta go back to 'ose times.” escaping his mouth. How much had he said? Did it matter? “Guess et doesn't, Ay'll be dead soon any way.”

[Garret Sawyer]

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Garret watched as the thief squirmed and writhed in the other guard's grip, fighting for his life with all the energy he had on his skinny little bones. It was fruitless effort on the thief's part, the armoured guard had a vice-like grip locked around his throat, one of his arms was pinned back by the same brute and the other was torn and drenched in blood but that was well deserved since he had tried to block an incoming weapon with his arm, a foolish attempt that would only ever end badly.

But while the familiar yelp of pain had graced his ears, providing Garret with a sadistic dose of pleasure that he always yearned for, it had also transformed the street urchin into an animal, kicking and punching with no sense of self preservation, his only intention to escape from his captors grip in whatever condition he could.
"You little fucker" the armoured guard cursed as they hit the ground, he struggled to maintain his grip as the lad continued to writhe, fighting every second to be free "You are in for so much shi-" he threatened, before he was silenced by a swift crack, turning the pink snow they sat on into a crimson red.

Garret had seen enough, as soon as the thief had pulled himself to his feet the morningstar was already in motion, the vicious spiked head soaring towards his head, though Garret had tried not to put too much force behind his swing. With a muffled grunt the thief fell back to the ground, burying his head in the snow. Garret stepped other towards him, the bloody snow crunched beneath his cracked boots as he picked up the thief and swung him other his shoulder with surprising ease. He looked back down at the armoured guard, he was still alive though moaning to himself as he clutched his broken, bloody nose as blood leaked through his fingers onto his armour, and the once deep red had already turned into a dried brown.
"I'm going to head back to the inn" he mumbled to Garret through his cupped hands "Fix this up, just dump the lad with the merchant, he's not squeamish, he'll deal with little shit" Garret merely nodded as he wandered off back into the market while the bloodied guard limped the other way, clutching both his nose and his nuts.

What had once been chaos had now settled into ruin, where once stood stalls and their wares had been stripped of valuables and trashed for fun, and where once the fight had centred now only splatters of blood and limp bodies remained. He heard the thief mumble to himself with a choked throat as he sniffed and wept, Garret was tempted to show him what he had caused but it wasn't his place to teach him, he hoped that the lad could see all the destruction for the sake of a few Mizas, and especially he hoped he could see the bodies. While the fight had not been the most bloody of affairs, battered faces and sliced stomachs still could be found amongst the debris and no-one had bothered to move them, preferring to step over them as the market returned back to business.

"Got your thief" Garret stated as he approached the food stall once more, it was unscathed by the commotion as the merchant continued to tend the stalls, performing his usual flourish with now bloodies knuckles.
"Good" he said simply as he saw the mercenary approach with the cargo slung over his shoulder "Bring him around here". Garret did just that, he walked around the back of the stall and dumped him on a wooden chair that stood behind the stall for merchant to rest on.
"Where is my guard?" he asked as Garret massaged his shoulder where the thief had been carried.
"Broken nose, the little bugger smashed him in the face when he was down, he's headed back to his inn"
"Very well..." he said, rubbing his jaw as he weighed up his options "Watch my wares, I'll deal with the thief then you can have your money"

Garret turned on his heels to watch over the vast array of fruits and vegetables, recognizing a few of the more common foodstuffs but the merchant dealt in foods more exotic than his accent. He heard a distinctive snap as the merchant crack his knuckles.
"You think you can steal from me a get away with it..." he said as Garret stood there in silence as he listened to the event s unfold, a sudden crack echoed throughout the street as merchant punched the thief in the jaw, sending a spray of blood splattering over the crate of apples. The merchant grunted in pain slightly as he rubbed his sore knuckles "Where I hail from... There was an old tradition where we would remove one hand from the thief, the hand that first touched the merchant's ware" He said, suddenly throwing a vicious uppercut as moans of pain filled the stall "Are you crying child? Hmm... I would save your tears since there is more justice to come..."

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

OOCLook who finally replied! Sorry for the wait and that it is shorter than previous. Eleazar was almost relieved when he was thrown off the morning star swinging old man's shoulder on to a small wooden chair. His gut no doubt had the beginnings of a nasty bruise forming, adding to the list of injuries received today. All that over one apple. One apple he didn't even get more that one bite out of. He hated days like this. But it was far from over as the merchant approached him. The man wasn't happy, rightly so, shouting with his round face twisted into a sadistic smirk. The crack of his knuckles brought realisation to the thief's face. Oh shyke. The first blow in sent the teen's world reeling in and out of focus. Hot blood coated his face against the cold of the air, as the shouting continued, punctuated frequently by a punch and Eleazar's own pained cries. "Where I hail from...There was an old tradition where we would remove one hand from the thief, the hand that first touched the merchant's ware.......” “N-mmfph mi hands! Ahhh!” His cries were silenced by a flurry of fists attacking his jaw. If this psycho took his hands he would starve to death, that is if he wasn't pounded in to a bloody pulp first. His nose was bleeding equal parts blood and snot, his jaw had fallen partially numb to the blows and his eyes allowed rivers to spatter over the ground. Everything hurt. His brain couldn't focus on one source of pain without the others pulling it's attention away. His arms had long since stopped responding to his calls for them to protect his face, too bruised to allow the muscles to move. Then suddenly the beatings eased up. “...Are you crying child? Hmm... I would save your tears since there is more justice to come..." Eleazar had barely registered the words when a knee crashed into his ribcage. The muscles around his chest went into spasm, as he forced air in, out. In then out. In and out. A foot kicked him side hard. Gasping in pain on the cold ground, the teen could feel all too clearly the merchant's heel dig itself into the gap between his ribcage and his pelvis, pushing deeper and deeper with each passing tick. “...Maybe I will not take you hand.....Would cause too much fuss. Might even lose customers....Guess I'll just have to make up for it....” The pressure on his side was relieved before the merchant resumed pummelling his face into the dirt. The man didn't let off until his own knuckles were bleeding and his breathing had become laboured. Only then did he look down at his work. The lad's face was bleeding horribly, bruised beyond belief yet he still remained conscious enough to weakly look around. It was an impressive, if albeit a bloody, scene to behold. Getting another kick in, the teen's pockets gave the tail tail jingle of Mizas. Reaching down the merchant slipped his hand into the thief's pocket extracting a total of eight silver mizas. The Petching brat had had money the entire time. There had been no need to steal anything. The Fool could have paid for it like anyone else. Pissed off, the Merchant stomped on Eleazar's head then spat on the groaning body. “You got off easy child” Pocketing three of the coins, the mercenary was handed the rest of the thief's wealth. Before being pointed to the bleeding boy behind the stall. “Take that out of my sight..... And see to it that you don't forget to meet with my Guard. If you don't turn up the offer is off.” And with those words the Merchant returned to his stall as though nothing had happened, greeting customers with his normal flare.

[Garret Sawyer]

Garret had stood there silently the entire time, his feet never moved nor his hands tried to intervene as the merchant dealt out his not uncommon form of justice, though Garret doubted that his intentions were so noble and righteous that they could be associated with the word, more like merchant had a sense of pride and honour which meant the thief had spat on it as soon as his grubby hands had wrapped around that apple. His face didn't even wince when he heard the pathetic cries of the young man, they sounded like the cries of a child calling out for his mother at the first signs of trouble. Perhaps this meant that Garret was just a twisted as the man who was dealing out the punches, in truth there was no doubt about Garret's mind but these were the questions a man asks himself when drunk or confronted by the gods, not when the promise of work and gold was at stake.

Strangely is was the sound of money that signalled the end of the beating, even Garret peered around as he watched the merchant fish something from the lad's pockets. "Oh you stupid..." Garret found himself saying as the merchant counted it up.
"Eight Mizas" The merchant said, staring at the money "I suppose that'll cover the costs"
Garret cleared his throat before adding "And my pay..."
The merchant looked up at him, his eyebrows raised like he had of forgotten that the mercenary was even there "Oh yes, I owe you some money don't I. Very well, here you go" he said, taking his share of the money and handing over the rather disappointing reward "You got off easy child" He said, stamping on his head forcefully and spitting on his bloody head before looking “Take that out of my sight..... And see to it that you don't forget to meet with my Guard. If you don't turn up the offer is off.”
"Aye ser" he replied, pocketing the silver in his back pocket.

"Okay lad, get your arse off the ground" he said, yanking lad up and pulling him back over his shoulder, the bloody, bruised body didn't put up a fight as he rested him over his shoulder. He wasn't sure where to dump the moron but he figured just far enough out of the market, there were a lot of pissed of guards and merchants so a bloody body being taken away from a stall was hardly subtle and it wouldn't take long for someone to for someone to put two and two together.

"You won't believe it lad, but you got off lightly" he said, doubting whether the lad was even in fit state to understand his words "Merchants put gold ahead of blood, but a mercenary, well that changes frequently so if he left it up to the guard... Well I doubt I would be carrying away a breathing body." He felt his shoulder warm slightly as the man bled on him, didn't bother him though, with the snow still cascading down softly it warmed him up "Doesn't matter either way though, you'll probably be dead by sunset" he added darkly as the noise of the market died down.

A snow fight still raged on throughout the street though the lumps of ice seemed to part when Garret made his way through with his bloody trophy aloft. He simply ignored the wary glances as he found a large mound of snow and dumped the body like a sack of potatoes "Better luck next time lad" he added as he wandered off, wondering what he would spend his paltry reward on, maybe some ale.

He chuckled to himself as he patted his back pocket, expecting to hear the sound of jingling Mizas but was rewarded with silence. He rammed his hand down his back pocket but his outstretched fingers found nothing. he spun on his heels, staring back at the mound of snow but all that was left was a bloody smear "Oh for fu-" he cursed before a snowball struck his jaw.

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

OOCFeel free to put this thread up for grading now. Woo! Finished! The snow was beginning to really come down, in large clouds of cold crystallized flakes, it was descending over the ruin of the Seaside market. Street dogs, normally too shy to venture out of their alley dens, had come out to take advantage of the corpses and edible merchandise lying around. Most of the stalls of the Market had survived the brawl although quite a few had been simply demolished. The angry merchant's stall had left untouched, no doubt to it's owners heavy hands dealing out 'justice' wherever they saw fit. Heh, there was no justice in the world, just those able to get what they need and those that couldn't. Everyone was fighting to be the former, or for someone else to be the former. Be it their children, their leader, their friend. Those that didn't fight died, that was how the world worked, at least in Eleazar experience. The roof of the stall was a pretty colour the teen had decided from his position on the ground. A brown reminiscent of mud and horse shyke, heavy with the laying snow. It was most fitting of it's owner. Turning his head to look at the man who had near beat him to death with his own hands, the thief grit his teeth against the pain in his side. The stupid foreign vagik had really been going at him hard. It would take weeks for the bruises to fade and disappear. Why hadn't the idiot checked him for money first!? That's what most of the merchants that caught him did, least then he got away with only marginal bruising. Reason why the Sunberthian kept money in his pockets to start with, that and muggers would straight up kill you if you had nothing on your person. Now his face hurt and his stomache, he still hadn't eaten in days and wouldn't be able to thieve again until the Market rebuilt it self. Life sucks. The thief's internal rant was interrupted by the old man's head coming into view. Immediately the teen played possum making it seem his injuries were worse than they were. In truth he had walked away from beatings worse than this in the past but he wasn't moving any more than he needed to at the moment. The old man's bright green eyes seemed to glow in an odd way from within his grumpy expression. So jewel like, they made Eleazar fingers itch to steal them. Maybe if he got close enough he could rip them out? Probably not the best idea, well at least not now. "Okay lad, get your arse off the ground" The elder of the two said as his rough hands hauled Eleazar back over the man's shoulder and held him securely in place with his arms flopped down over the man's back as the duo began to travel away from the store. The bony shoulder dug directly into his aching middle, successfully winding him with each step the man took. Where were they going anyway? Out of the Market? The raging blizzard that seemed to have appeared following the brawl, made it hard to tell what direction they were going. It didn't take long before the man beneath him was talking again. "You won't believe it lad, but you got off lightly" Not as lightly as I would have liked, Stupid Merchant. Stupid you, your the one who caused this, I could have gotten away with it if it weren't for your meddling. "Merchants put gold ahead of money, but a mercenary, well...” The moment Eleazar's shar little ear's caught hold of the word 'mercenary' he stopped listening to the drone escaping the other's mouth. Mercenary most likely meant he had been being paid to hunt the body his was carrying's sorry arse down.Which meant...... His limp arms moved to carefully pat down his carrier. He smirked in triumph as his middle finger brushed against a bulge in the man's back pocket. Bingo! "Doesn't matter either way though, you'll probably be dead by sunset” And you'll be a poor man. The idoit carried on prattling about something or other as the thief carefully sent a hand down to retrieve his prize. Closing around the coins, a sudden jolt of the man's shoulder nearly set the Mizas over the moving dirt beneath him. Locking his fingers firmly around the money, Eleazar couldn't have been happier. Stealing always did make him feel better. Funny how he had heard people tell of it making them sad when they stole. The mercenary stopping quickly Eleazar back into his possum act. They were a good way from the tattered bloody market. IT wasn't as crowded as some of the Sunberthian streets but still enough to cause some stares as Eleazar was thrown into the pile of snow. It quickly began to melt through his coat, turning his bruised skin cold much to his relief. Cold was a good numb for bruises. But he wasn't going to lie here all day. As the mercenary turned away from his still form a rough "Better luck next time lad" meet his ears followed by a crunch of leather on snow moving away from him. His own ale eyes sprung open, as his legs hurtled his body down the nearest alleyway. Pocketing the coins, Eleazar only stopped as he reached the next street over. A broken laugh escaped his raw throat, is echoed out across the houses around him growing until the teen was in the dirt again laughing. Breathing hard as blood trickled off his near ruined face Eleazar picked himself up, chuckling to himself. “Better luck next time, Green eyes.”