Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Ashan 44th 718

Torqin walked through the darkened alleyway, beginning to second guess his decision to come this way. He'd asked around at a pub about selling one of the finest Rynmeren steeds, a brilliantly white horse, a Warrick Whinny, by the name of Sparkle. He didn't have the horse with him, for of course he would never sell Lady Celeste's darling, but he hoped to spread the word that someone was looking to sell that horse. And he wanted as many people to know about it as was possible. To spread the word. In the hopes, that on the off chance, Celeste would hear about a large, Lotharro man selling a horse that may well be hers. If anything, he hoped that if she heard of it, she'd know he was coming for her. To take her away from all this. To go home.

The bodyguard and the baron had gone separate ways before they even stepped on the boat, intentionally. Celeste's kidnappers would know that at the very least, Xander would come for her. They had called for him, after all. But they might not have known about Torqin. He was a new employee, well a returning employee but that was much less known. He was Xander's back up, a second set of eyes, and hopefully the ace in the hole. So Torqin went about his unorthodox investigation, for he was no detective, not even a low rank gumshoe.

He wouldn't stop though. And so, he was following up on a piece of advice a drunkard had given him. Reckless and dumb, perhaps. But he had nothing else to go on. Torqin presented the entry fee at the stairs that disappeared beneath the road, and was let inside. Through several doors he was led by a guard, before finally he stepped through a door into a loud, crowd filled space. People were cheering around various rings where men and women alike were fighting in hand to hand combat, and money flew around as bets were made.

The quickest way to make a name for yourself was to go to The Alley and fight. Even if you didn't win every match, people of all kinds of import took notice. And while Torqin knew that fighting this way was not his strong suit, he figured he was at least tough enough to keep going, win or lose. He'd be the man that wouldn't stay down. He towered over the humans and other smaller races, as he moved fluidly toward one of the rings, only beaten in height by the Ithecal around, and no one could compete with those brutes for height. His name would become known. Someone would want him. He'd develop that relationship to get more information, for he had absolutely none. So he had to be known. For if he couldn't find Celeste, he could make her find him.

He approached the man at the head of one of these combat rings, gave his name, and the entry fee. The man eyed him up and smiled. Torqin watched as a fight before him finished, a pair of women, one with her legs around the other's neck, choking her to unconsciousness.

"Next fighters, to the ring! We have Tedward, a face you all know well I'm sure. He's had a mixed bag lately but his old lady left him this morning, so he's angry. Facing off against Tedward, we have a new contender, his first time here. He's a big buck, though he looks like a mama's boy to me. Come on down, Mama's Boy Torqin!"

Torqin parted through the crowd and entered the ring, feeling the eyes of those watching fall on him, interested in the new arrival. His opponent, a stout human with a particularly crooked nose stepped in, removing his shirt. Torqin did the same. Torqin held his hands up, sloppily for a brawler, but tried to think of one as his shield, the other as his club. He was here to endure the pain, for winning was the furthest thing from likely. The pair stalked around the ring glaring at one another, waiting out the final trill of betting.

"Fight!"

Torqin stumbled backward as another fist hammered into his jaw, his arms flailing a bit, as he failed to keep his guard up. The last couple of bits hadn't gone well for the Lotharro. While the man he fought was no champion, he was certainly a bit more used to this than the bodyguard. At the very least, Torqin had been able to keep his feet beneath him, a product of his training with his mother, as he was pushed back in a daze. Blood dripped from his nose and his lower lip. He saw the man already advancing, and Torqin got his forearms up, fists clenched, expecting another rattling blow to the jaw.

Instead it was right to his exposed ribs, knocking the wind from him. He stabbed his right hand out in a cross, his left hand instinctively, mistakenly dropping as he did so. His blow caught the man in the face, and it felt like a momentary victory. Until his opponent's fist snapped his head back in a devastating uppercut. Torqin fell backward onto the wooden floor, right in front of a dark haired woman with torn hose at the knees, his eyes too blurry from sweat and daze to see her face clearly.

His opponent moved forward to give him no respite, and Torqin instinctively kicked out. His foot hit the man's shin, throwing his balance momentarily, just enough for Torqin to pull himself backward, and up into a sitting position as his opponent charged. The man dropped to his knees, straddling Torqin's legs, and began raining hammers down upon him. Torqin got his head down and hands up to protect his face and temples, as blow after blow thudded against him. He could outlast this man. He had to. There was no other choice. Celeste needed to hear his name. To know he was here for her.

And the blows slowed a bit. And as they did, Torqin responded with the same move his opponent had used against him earlier. An uppercut. But Tedward was expecting it, and pulled his face back, and Torq only managed to clip the very tip of his nose. The pullback provided an opening though, and Torqin pushed forward with his torso, bending the man backward a bit, their laps meeting as if in some lewd display instead of a combat match. Tedward attempted to rise, and Torqin shoved him, sending the man back onto his ass.

Torqin quickly got to his feet, and his opponent matched him. Sweat stung Torqin's eyes as they circled each other once more, both breathing heavily. Torqin was hurting all around, but it seemed his opponent was running lower on steam. Tedward moved in quickly, first with a jab, that lured Torqin's guard forward, only to smash Torqin's ear with a wild haymaker, throwing the Lotharro off balance, his own counter jab missing wildly, sending up laughs and jeers from the crowd.

"Tha' Torqin be gobblin' up punches like he starvin. Gobblin. Like a turkey!"

"Turkey Torqin!"

That nickname was chanted over and over by the crowd, as Torqin absorbed blow after blow, his vision swimming. There was a nausea in his stomach. and it was taking every fiber of his being to stay upright. His opponent threw another weak jab, and Torqin knew what followed. He ducked as the haymaker soared overhead, and connected a straight into the man's high ribs, stinging his wrist. It wasn't the greatest place for a punch, and the nerves in his hand numbed off and on for a few moments.

Tedward stepped forward, sending straight, stopped by Torqin's weakening guard, as the body guard stepped backward carefully. He remembered his mum teaching him about only pushing forward when it would throw the opponent off balance, not to match them. Let them come to you. He continued this around the circle, and the crowd continued jeering, calling him a coward now. The luring jab came once more and Torqin had an instinctual idea. As the haymaker followed, Torqin turned into it, and met it with the top of his crown.

The man's wrist snapped audibly as it struck the hard skull at that angle, and Tedward howled in pain, and the crowd grew quiet for a moment at this change in the flow of the fight. Tedward clutched at his arm, and Torqin sent a jab out first, striking the man in his unguarded face. He stumbled backwards, and Torqin grabbed him by the injured wrist. He kept a tight grip on it, just as he did with his club, with the reins of an unruly horse, the man howling as the broken bones shifted about under the pressure.

Tedward dropped to his knees in pain, as Torqin held him up by his injured arm. Torqin raised his left fist, and crashed it down into the man's eye. Once. Twice. Thrice. He didn't stop. He kept punching the man over and over until the socket of the eye was mangled, the man unconscious. He dropped him to the floor, his own legs trembling from the extreme exertion of that surge in adrenaline. He promptly hunched over at the waist and heaved up a bit of fluid from his stomach onto the floor, to the disgusted exclaims of those nearest.

Then the man that ran this ring step forward, grabbed Torqin's arm, and raised it over the Lotharro's crouched body. "Torqin is the winner!" The crowd cheered, and the man waved over at Celeste, indicating she was to come to him. "This woman is your prize for the night. She'll do anything you want." He looked at Celeste, "Anything he wants. You understand me girl? You can help carry him back though, this big bastard is heavy."

He draped the victor's arm around Celeste's shoulder, and shooed them out of the ring. He had the next fight to get ready. Torqin was still recovering, leaning against the woman, trying to keep his feet, and not cause her to fall over with them both. His head was swimming, and he needed to sit down. He didn't quite understand what was going on now, head all jumbled as it was. All he said was "The inn," and hoped she could find the way.

He heard the woman speak to him, as he focused solely on staying upright. The world was muffled as he slipped in and out of his daze. It seemed she was managing to hold him up with his assistance, and they left the Alley. Away from the cheering and jeering crowds, he was able to hear her amore clearly, asking which Inn he'd mentioned to her. He tried to tell of her the World's Beginning, but with his lip busted up, his exhaustion heavy on him, and his delirium at came at as more of "Worgls Begargles."

She seemed to know the way. That was good, because he certainly didn't. He half-walked, half-carried with her into a house, his mind not registering that this was, in fact, not his inn. Nor any inn whatsoever. What he did know was that some woman in this house was having a wonderful time, clearly the man she was with knew what he was doing. He felt himself put against a wall, and he slid down, thankful to be sitting. There was a coolness brought to his lips. Water. He drank it down greedily, hearing this woman's low class accent. She could definitely be a member of low town. Deep in low town.

Then he saw her eyes, and the haze instantly cleared. He knew these eyes. They hadn't changed a trial, not in the last decade and change. Her words were like an echo ringing in his head, as he realized that she'd found him. He heard her words, saying his name. Torqin had to grip his fist tight, driving his nails into his palm to keep from slipping back into his foggy daze, keeping his own dark eyes on hers. He didn't understand. Why was she unlacing his breeches with trembling hands. Why did she speak of him as if he weren't here? But was some forgone friend in her past. And why was she speaking as if she were an object? What was going on?

Torqin reached down with one hand, taking both of hers in its grasp, to stop her from undressing him further. "I am he. I am Torqin. I saved you from your father's beating. He liked to use a belt. And I've come back, to save you again. I will always come back for you, Celeste." He squeezed her hands comfortingly, giving her a truly rough looking smile, his gums slick in blood, his lip swollen and oozing, and one of his eyes nearly shut. His hand he'd been using to keep him focused through pain was planted against the floor, and the man started to stand, pulling Celeste with him. As he did, his trousers fell to his ankles, leaving him exposed. He quickly stooped to try and cover himself before Celeste saw, but the sudden movement pushed him behind his limits.

With a groan, he passed out, falling face first into the mattress nearby. Half his body laid upon the cushion, the lower half upon the wooden floor, his bare ass exposed comically. And there he'd remain until morning, unable to be roused by simple shaking or noise.