Completed Anti-Fa(sting) !!!

[Dmitri Saratov]

Timestamp: 28th of Fall 'Petch it all, where is that damned food?!' Three days, three stomach churning days, without any food to be found in any of Sunberth's cursed stores, one after the other was closed, some even barred and borderline fortified! It was starting to get to Dmitri, most of the time the food wasn't anything to write home about, sometimes you could bash a head in with a loaf of bread, but it did its damned job of keeping his stomach full! Before Sunberth's finest residents, not that he wasn't one of them, had to ruin it all. Stores closed out of fear, or a form of pacifistic resistance, who the petch knows?! Nobody would care why anyway, all the people want is their tummy filled! This was the last straw, if that rotten caravan wasn't going to show up on the designated location in half a bell, he would grab the first person that came too close and go for a bite. 'Shyke!' Amidst the large gathering of people, Dmitri waited impatiently. His hands balling up into fists every then and again, from behind his stupidly mismatched sjawl around his lowerface, he alternated between biting his lip and grinding his teeth. He started to feel like a dire beast the longer he had to wait, especially now that there was a good chance he was going to get to eat, the waiting was 10 times more difficult. It had been half a bell...The hungering rage was boiling Now a bell...His lip started bleeding from biting too hard Over three bells... So close to losing it... Dusk...Simultaneous eruption of manic rage, screams and frustration all around him! Dmitri suddenly found himself amid the most erratic clash he had ever been in, the shouts of rage, the screams of pain and fear, bones breaking, piercing shanks and deathrattles....Nothing came close to the deafening sound of his hunger. Fear, composure, rationality and even humanity had to make way for Dmitri's overbearing, borderline insane, hatred to all that was alive and around him! At first he only kicked heelfirst to anyone before him in the savage crowd, throwing enraged fists at anything in his range, whether it was a face he had smashed his knuckles in, the back of someone's head, or kicking a pregnant, shrieking woman trying to get to safety. He couldn't give 2 shykes less! Everyone had to pay, everyone had to suffer! After the booming howls of his stomach and rage almost had died down, and he started to realize he needed to get out of the eye of the storm before it was too late...Someone nailed him. Literally, some punk had apparently brought or found a wooden board with rusted petching nails still in it, and the guts to slam it against Dmitri's side. The force of the blow hurt more than the few minor puncture wounds. The savage roar of pain and desire to rend the brat's flesh from his petching face mixed in with the other remaining fighters' howls, few as there were at that point, the fighting had seriously gotten out of hand. Bodies, unconscious, trampled or simply straight-up murdered lay sprawled all around him, eating gravel and dust. But this was no time to be impressed or worried about the savage nature of man...No no, this was not that kind of time, not after that boy'o had dared to strike him like that. ...This was time for some good ol' fun!

[Dmitri Saratov]

Almost like a cagefight, their surroundings became a blur as they started to side-step carefully and delicately in opposite directions, making half a circle before coming back to a halt. During said motion, Dmitri had taken firm grasp of his black stiletto. The young lad, must've been barely an adult if at all, had gripped the lower end of the board with both hands and was clearly ready to throw down with his porcupine-stick. Dmitri must've been hit worse than he had thought, he could feel the pain coming from his leftside, around the ribs, with every movement. Not to mention the warm moist sensation he felt as his shirt started to stick to his body in that area. 'Shyke, must be losing a fair bit of blood... Rabid petching cretin, I'll get you for this, you bastard dog!' Dmitri's thoughts seemed to have a spurring effect on him as he started to taunt the lad, with his free hand beckoning him over as he grimaced and spit toxic words at the oddly composed boy'o. For a kid his age, holding something that barely came off as a weapon at first glance, he had a strange vibe to him. Dmitri noticed it but didn't give it too much thought nor care, he could've been a Druvin for all he cared, he was going to get what was coming, even if it costed Dmitri his life! "Come on, boy'o, what you waiting for? Mommy to hold your hand? Don't worry, I'll send her your hand after I'm done chopping you up!" Seemed like the mention of his mother had some serious effect on the boy'o as he kicked himself off from his guarded position and had almost closed the gap already with the board following him on the left, already ready to strike another set of bleeding holes in Dmitri. That was the undoing of the lad, the crude improvised weapon. For all the lacking ability Dmitri had in head-on combat, his light yet lethal weapon was so much easier to handle that it almost seemed child's play. Instinct took over before he had time to think of a move, and he had done just as the lad had done, rushing straight-on at the enemy. A move which was greatly in Dmitri's favor even if he didn't realize why during the fight. His one-handed and small weapon made him faster than the lad in both body and manoeuvers. Dmitri jumped at the last moment and lashed himself on the lad mid-air, effectively causing them both to fall before the lad had time to swing the unshapely weapon, but not before Dmitri had pierced bone, muscle and tissue during the pounce, piercing the boy's shoulderblade from behind before they rolled over the ground. The boy'o unarmed and Dmitri still holding his 'Crux'. Dumb, arrogant and almost costing him his life, Dmitri had figured the lad would be gasping for air or panicking on the dirt. A thought that caused him to stand up without the rush for survival in him, something the boy'o clearly still had as he had jumped up faster than Dmitri and had even closed the distance already. Before Dmitri knew it, he got a hard sole of the kid's boot the side of his face and fell back on the ground. The pain having less effect than the shock of this surprising turn of events. He had regained his consciousness and even his weapon, but was still woozy and dazed to say it lightly. Then the inevitable happened... Before he was able to stand back up, Dmitri found himself being choked from behind in an L-shaped necklock by the petching strong arms of this kid... "This. Is. For. My. PREGNANT. Mother!" The flash of visual memory didn't leave much to the imagination, at the beginning of the riot, he kicked a visibly pregnant woman, hunching over and protecting her unborne baby as best as she could. All he could remember was his boot hitting her face though, she fell but....Was she trampled?! "Petch...Your....Mother!! Boy'o!" Dmitri wheezed through his teeth, attempting to force the lock open with his hands, only slight leeway was the result though. This wasn't looking good.

[Dmitri Saratov]

The pain started to cloud his mind and sight, feeling yourself slowly losing consciousness, with near-certainty you'll never wake up again if you do, is a terrifying feeling. Dmitri felt the warm liquid he first felt on his ribcage, seep out from the corners of his mouth. But there was nothing he could do about it, his fingers crawling around the arms of the boy'o were losing grip and strength. His eyes were staring at something on the ground before him, but it was so blurry he couldn't even really see what he was looking at during the last moments of his life. What happened next must have been the most subconscious move and epiphany he had ever had. He still doesn't really understand why or how he had realised that the thing on the ground was the wooden board with nails protruding out of it. But his body moved on its own, regardless of reasoning, with the last burst of strength he could muster, he grabbed as strong as he could onto the choking arms around his throat and with a sudden forceful twist of the body and letting his own body, leaning against the lad, topple over while hanging and placing his bodyweight on the boy'o. He stared at the grim looking sky while falling, not even hoping or praying for anything. He was unable to go on and neither did he see a light at the end of the tunnel. All he saw was grim, gray clouds in the nightsky. 'Am I even going to be allowed there? Nah. Not someone like me...Curse you, woman.' It was done, it was over. Slowly opening his dazed and drowzy eyes, Dmitri saw the fight re-enact again before his eyes, while adjusting his sight to overcome the blur. Again, grim clouds and darkness was all he saw, seems like there was a spot reserved for him even through all that he had done...Then the sounds started to ooze into his eardrums and suddenly his sight was completely regained, the worldly sounds all around him gave him yet another epiphany. 'I am not dead! Wha-- How?!' He tried to move, slowly and with caution because he felt hurt and pain all over his body. Wincing and breathing heavily, he managed to twist his body and push himself onto his hands and knees. Just that made him feel like he had ran for his life, which wasn't far from the truth really. He had run, right out of death's cold hands. Still breathing hard through his mouth, he saw a hand beneath him, open and with fingers trying to grab onto something invisible. Following the sprawling hand with his eyes, he arrived at a face. The boy'o lay there, face straight up towards the black sky, just like it had been for him. Except he, was laying his head in a pool of blood, eyes bulging and wide. Fearful for what was imminent, Dmitri figured. He didn't celebrate his victory though, neither was he amused or even apathetic towards the lad. For the first time, in a long long time, he felt sorrow. He didn't even reaize why at first, but the tears fell down onto the dirty ground he was trying to dig his fingers in, clenching the ground as if trying to strangle the earth he walked on. Teardrops fell straight down, slided over his cheeks and over his lips. The taste of his tears, salty...So salty, he hated salt. So much, hated salt, so damn much...That it made him cry .... He didn't remember how long he had stayed by the child's side, crying and lost in emotions and thoughts he didn't even remember or wanted to have. But the starless night started to turn into a sea of gray clouds as far as the eye could see, no sun to be found, before he finally started to move, bandaging himself crudely and elementary with ripped of clothing and going back on his lifeless life's path.

[Dmitri Saratov]

The walk back to his quarters had never been longer, his feet never heavy. The people that were forced to crossed paths with the broken man did their utmost best not to look too long. Probably thinking Dmitri was a homicidal maniac, which he had been today. That in itself wasn't the reason why he was so broken in mind and heart though, he could barely understand it, let alone believe it. But the recurring flashes of his mother's face from before the 'incident' and from the last time he saw his mother, at the moment of her execution, were a telltale sign to him. He had forced a lad, older than he had been but still, to lose his mother before his eyes. Something nobody should ever go through...Not only that, but he had even taken his sibling from the boy. Unborne or not, family is family...He took solice that the boy did not have to go through a life that he went through, a twisted form of solice to say the least. But he had to try and believe it was true, he had to, he was already a broken shell of a broken shell...He wouldn't be able to cope with the brutal truth of his deeds today. The Cheap Side was finally before him, when the mindflash of the boy's lifeless face in the pool of his own blood came before his eyes. Instantly he felt his stomach turn and within the next few moments he was puking his guts out. The thought of eating, even the smell of food, would only make him relive today, something he was going to avoid at all costs for now. Ironic, the hunger was an indirect cause of it all, now he wished he could spend the rest of his life without eating ever again.

[Orion Michaels]

Dmitri : Skills +2 Brawling +1 Weapon: Stiletto +1 Rhetoric +1 Tactics +1 Observation +1 Philosophy Lore Losing Yourself in a Brawl Taunting: It’s easy. Just like yo’ Mamma. Escaping with your life..and wondering if you deserved it Sunberth: Food Shortage of Fall, 514 Hunger Makes People Do Crazy Things Injury Minor bruising throughout body – soreness for a few days 3 punctures in left side – wound will heal naturally in 1-2 weeks. High risk of infection if not treated medically. Notes Nice thread, Dmitri. Try and make sure you stay consistent in your tense and voice. They switched up a few times throughout it. Nothing horrible, but enough to disrupt the flow of the writing. Otherwise, keep up the good work. PM me with questions!