Torman
Fighter
Mankind will have nothing if men lose faith in one another.
Posts: 53
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Post by Torman on Nov 11, 2013 15:43:59 GMT -6
Torman watched the merchant absolutely obliterate the pirate captain. He whistled in admiration.
"I now see what you mean," the fighter said to the two merchants behind him, "The man certainly is impressive."
What unnerved Torman was that Valcrist was almost emotionless through his short fight with the captain, save a few moments where the merchant seemed to be enjoying himself. The merchants caught his attention again. He looked back at Heygus and Varen.
"Past conquests?"
There was a pirate standing near the three, also watching and not doing his job of killing them. He looked at Torman, "Oh, yeah, this man is amazing. They say-"
The pirate was silenced when Torman cut off his head. Idiot pirates. Torman, although intrigued by Valcrist's past, respected the man's privacy. If he wanted to keep it a secret then let him. Moments later, the pirate captain was dead and Valcrist was back on board.
"I'm fine and so are these two," Torman responded to Valcrist's question. Torman stretched, "Let's get going. The sooner I'm off this boat, the better."
(OoC: Yeah, we can support)
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Post by Valcrist on Nov 11, 2013 16:27:38 GMT -6
"Ugh, Torman. You got pirate everywhere." He gestured with two empty hands at the assortment of corpses laid strewn about the ship, big fleshy blood bags that were more than eager to let loose their bloody liquids and stain the wood with a glossy red sheen. Oh Valcrist hated blood, it's one of the reasons he enjoyed using his windblade to slay enemies, they usually died far enough away that it didn't get on him. Speaking of which...
He pulled his blade from his sheath once more, a very small but controlled spiral of air swirled from it. It was short but powerful, and all the blood on his blade blasted off. He screwed up his face in a look of annoyance as he looked around. If only he could just do that with everything. Now they needed to toss these corpses off the sides of the ship, and swab the decks afterwards. A few of the sailors that were helping run the ship were also strewn amongst the bodies. They were different, Valcrist cringed as he saw them. Unlike the bandits, he actually felt bad about those people. Some of them he knew by name. He sheathed his blade once more, wearing a look of either anger or sadness. He wasn't even sure his self, but he was regretting not sinking the whole damn ship when he had the chance.
He let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry..." He said quietly with a small breath, if he had taken things more seriously from the start, maybe they'd still be alive. He thought he could just lie back and let the mercenaries take care of everything, and not fight his self. It was now that he realized he couldn't just do that. If he had the ability to still fight, and if he could use that ability to help others, he couldn't just idly wait on the sidelines. He took in a deep breath through the nose, filling his chest and puffing it out, the scent of death and seasalt filled his senses in a truly disgusting combination, and he let it all out with one heavy breath. Smiling after it was all said and done. "Alright, someone hand me a mop."
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A few days later the ship finally docked in it's destination. It was a snowy little burg near Ilia, Valcrist was more bundled then usual. Fetching his thick jacket instead of the thinner one he's been wearing, they looked nearly identical but that was because Valcrist liked the concept of having a single style of clothing. It took all the worry about what to wear and fearing fashion fauxpaws away. Also he would always be sure it matched his orange scarf, which he treasured and always wore. Well except when he was washing it. Also this was totally not the point he was trying to make, no one cared about Valcrist's wardrobe.
The important information was how when they docked, the two mercenaries that had been quiet ever since the raid left without a word. Varen and Heygus gathered their things, mostly unscathed. Their father, the owner of the ship was already in port, and he was going to be taking the ship back to Ilia. With an actual team of mercenaries, and after word of their encounter got out, the interest in mercenary work of the sleepy little strait rose considerably. Their father would be the one to deal with selling the merchandise on the actual ship, while Varen and Heygus were more interested and continuing their traveling peddling trade along with the smith that they've grown to enjoy teasing.
True to their word, they gave Torman an extra pouch of gold to thank him for his particularly extraordinary assistance. Valcrist was true to his word as well, and he gave an extra fifty gold to the best fighter of the mercenaries, something all three of them could agree that was Torman without a doubt. They said their goodbyes and the three merchants took off for the nearby Ilian town where they can peddle their wares.
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Torman
Fighter
Mankind will have nothing if men lose faith in one another.
Posts: 53
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Post by Torman on Nov 11, 2013 18:58:31 GMT -6
Torman watched Valcrist walk around. The fighter felt bad for the man. He seemed very despondent.
"Sorry about the boat, Valcrist," Torman said, standing up, "I'll help you clean up."
Torman grabbed a mop and started working.
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Torman donned his winter jacket. Why was Ilia always so cold? The port was growing close and the fighter watched the other two mercenaries leave with out so much as a good bye when they arrived. Rather rude, but the fighter got over it. He shook the hands of his employers and collected his gold for being the best fighter out of the employed (Valcrist was far better than Torman himself) and his pay. As he walked away from the docks, people began swarming him. They all were wanting to hire him and the gold amounts stacked up as they fought over who would employ the fighter.
Well, this could get difficult Torman thought. Fame, even something as small as this, was not what it was cracked up to be. How did war heroes even survive?
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