Not the best universal start (Solo)

[Faylon Kwanda]

6th of Winter, 511AV 9th Bell [Laying on his back in an alley this was not the universal start he had hoped for upon returning to Zeltiva. After that first step off the boat though he discovered it was harder to find some of his old acquaintances then he had though. There were those of them that were gone, others that were dead and a few that he just couldn’t find. Going to the Kelp Bar for a few drinks seemed like the next logical choice after the defeat of not knowing what to do next had begun to set in. Whatever happened that night had lead him to his current predicament which was laid out on his back in some Zeltivan alley smelling of drink and chilled down to the bone. Only the fur cloak he wore helped to stave off some of the Bonesnappers winds which chilled him down to the core. Unshaven, stubble covering his face, it wasn’t exactly a pretty sight since he’d come back.] [Petch he thought to himself. A subtle tugging followed in the back of his mind. Petch he thought against as he lay there in the alley sleeping off the last night as best he could in the cold. Another subtle tugging would soon follow. Shyke what is that he thought before finally opening his eyes to see himself surrounded by three men, one of which was slowly trying to tug off one of his boots without arousing suspicion, and seeming to sober up a bit he’d draw one of his legs backwards. Almost instinctively he was kicking his leg out a moment later and slamming it into the teeth of the man who was working on his boots tossing him backwards where cursing followed.] [“Shyke, I’m dead not yet!”...Faylon had yelled while rolling over onto his stomach while the other two men seemed stunned by his sudden rousing. Placing his hands underneath him Faylon was climbing back onto his feet and turning around to look at the men who only now started to advance on him again. Holding his nose the man he had kicked in the face was screaming...”You bastard! You’ll pay for that in spades!”...and then moving closer behind his companions so that they could box Faylon in near the end of the alley. No escape. Fight or die.] [Understanding the severity of the situation seemed to sober Faylon up just that much more. Backing away from the man who were stalking him like jackals closing in for the kill he’d wait until his back hit the wall at the end of the alley before reaching back to take the hilt of his sword. Unsheathing the Longsword just as one man rushed him Faylon would lift his leg and boot the man in the stomach, driving him backwards, before swinging his sword in a wide arc out ahead of him that backed the others up and gave him a few more feet to work with. “Careful now stranger.” ...said the lead man... ”We just wanted your boots and a few other things but you’re making this hard. Now we’ll have your life too.” “You can have my boots in hell you shyke eating cur!”...was the response Faylon offered them before charging ahead. Apparently it was the right move. None of the three assailants expected Faylon to wade into them whether he had steel drawn or not and he took advantage of their surprise. Lifting his Longsword overhead he’d have chopped it down towards the head of the first man he came upon and split his skull before his companions even knew what was happening but it all went downhill from there. Maybe it was just the winter but Faylon couldn’t pull his damn sword out of the man’s head even though he was putting his arms into it. Damn, should have remembered his lessons.] [As soon as one of the men noticed that Faylon had lodged his sword down into the head of his companion well he ran forward, scooped Faylon into his arms, and tackled him down onto his side heavily. Both men went down but with Faylon on the bottom he took the worst of it and his side was aching afterwards. Wrestling on the ground was the forte of neither man so it was mostly a stalemate with Faylon trying to get his attacker off him. Meanwhile the other man, whose face was busted, had moved over to his dead friend and was pulling the Longsword out of his. Petch that’s all I need, Faylon thought as he noticed what was happening out of the corner of his eye while struggling with the man on top of him.] [Feeling the other mans hands wrapping around his throat Faylon groaned, gagged and tried to take a breath as he was viciously strangled. Good thing these two were disorganized. Punching the man in the face once, even off his back, seemed to loosen his grip around Faylon’s throat and allowed him to suck in a quick breath before those hands closed around his neck again. Spying something out of the corner of his eye then seemed to make Faylon’s eyes widen though. Behind them both the Longsword had finally come free of the dead man’s skull and raising it high over his head the man wielding it was stepping forward to use it.] [Eyes widening at the sight of the armed attacker moving closer Faylon would knuckle up and punch the man strangling him in the face again before sliding his arms down under the mans. He grabbed him by the hip and underneath the arm and heaved the man up over him so that his body was straddling Faylon high, his chest level with Faylon’s head then. Good timing too. A moment later and the man on top of him stiffened as the Longsword bit into him between the neck and shoulder. Killing him, most likely, incapacitating him, definitely. On the bottom Faylon could only marvel as he saw the blade of the sword extending past the shoulder of the man and yell...”You missed, bastard!”...before finding that his limbs had renewed some of their strength.] [Pushing the body off of himself Faylon would roll it aside just as he sent a boot up towards the groin of the man hold his sword which he drove home hard and fast, bending the man over and stumbling him backwards. Coughing and spitting a mouthful to the side Faylon was up on his elbows next reaching for the hilt of the Longsword that the man dropped when he’d taken the blow to his balls. His fingers found the hilt, tightened around, and drew it back to him as he found his footing again ready to deliver the death blow to the last of his assailants but the man was already stumbling back towards the mouth of the alley trying to make his escape.] [Pursuing him quickly the man would look back over his shoulder just as Faylon growled out...”Where the hell do you think you’re going!?”...and drove the hilt of the sword into his face, flattening his nose, sending the man falling onto his gut where he crawled away still trying to get away. Strangely Faylon felt no pity for the man who would have taken his boots and, maybe, slit his throat while he slept and reaching out to take him by the shoulder he’d roll him over to hear the mans pleas of...”Mercy! Mercy!”...before burying the steel of his sword into his gut until it came out his back and touched the ground. “Why don’t you eat shyke!”...Faylon would have spat down on the man after driving his sword home and watching as he clutched feebly at it, trying to hang onto life, before Faylon gave a twist of the blade to finish him and pulled it out of the corpse.] [Now, the fighting done, Faylon began to come back to his senses as he looked around himself. There were three bodies in the alley with him. Blinking his eyes a few times he barely even felt the cold of the Bonesnapper anymore as his blood rushed hot through his limbs. Kneeling down next to the body of the man he’d just killed Faylon reached out and took a cleaner looking piece of his clothes to clean his sword off on before standing back up and resheathing it. He had no idea what his next move would be but he already knew that he couldn’t stay here.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Winter wasn’t forgotten long as Faylon stood there in the alley. Wind from the Bonesnapper alerted him to the very real chill in the air. No time to think about that now though he’d reason as he moved to march out of the alley and leave the corpses behind. All three of them were dead and deserving of it too. Anyone who thinks they can steal boots off a still breathing man is putting their life into their own hands and gets what is coming to them. At least that was how Faylon felt about all of this. Whether or not others would agree with him was completely different and he didn’t dare think that over for too long a time without coming to some worse off conclusion.] [Trudging out of the alley Faylon heard something though. Nothing that sounded like one of the men he was leaving behind might have been alive though. A door opening and then a voice that exclaimed...”What the shyke is all of this!? Murder!”...whoever it was had seen Faylon walking away from the scene of the crime and the bodies but hadn’t actually seen what happened before that. Looking back over his shoulder Faylon would see the man looking down the alley towards him from a door that opened on the side of a building into it and with his mind racing he panicked, he didn’t know what to do, and it was survival of the fittest all over again.] [Moving back down into the alley at a rush Faylon would shout...”No. Shyke! That’s not what happened. You have it all wrong!”...but the door was shut in his face before he reach it and the man inside was gone. After that the first thing that came to mind was spending the Winter in a Zeltivan prison which was not the place you wanted to be. Not ever but especially not in winter. No other choice then he would lift his boot and slam it into the door behind a heavy kick. Once, the door rattled. Twice, the door budged a little. Three times he put all of his weight into it and the door broke open before Faylon moved inside. Knocked sideways by a fist as he crossed the threshold.] [Whoever this man was he knew how to hit and after just one shot Faylon’s jaw was sore as all hell. “Murderer! You think you can kill me too well you have another thing coming!”...the man would cry out as Faylon was still stunned and knock him backwards with another heavy shot that left him ringing and spitting a bit of blood out the corner of his mouth. With arms raising Faylon would fend off another shot while trying to tell the man...”No, you have it all wrong. Shyke, listen to me!”...but everything fell on deaf ears and the man definitely wasn’t buying any of it as he hammered away at Faylon. Popping out a stiff jab when he finally saw an opening Faylon would knock the man backwards to give himself some breathing room but it didn’t last long, this man was fighting for his life.] [Before he even knew what was happening the man had grabbed a chair and thrown it at Faylon before disappearing around a corner further into the building. Groaning he would chase the man hoping to catch him before it was too late but to no avail. It looked like the man must have lived here because as Faylon chased him around a corner of the house he came into a small bedroom and ducked just as a knife whizzed over his head to stick into the wall behind him. There was no reasoning with this man and at that point Faylon knew what he needed to do.] [Moving towards the man who cursed him and came back at him Faylon would circle and pop out his jab again. Working behind it as he began to brutalize the man’s face with stiff shots seeing as how the man was strong but didn’t appear to be much of a fighter, at least not a trained one. Delivering blow after blow Faylon would work himself into a red haze that began to cloud his vision as he dished out ravenous punishment with his hands and busted the man up worse.] [One shot broke the man’s nose, snapping it aside and causing it to spray blood, and the one after that ripped open a large cut above his cheek. Body shots followed and the man groaned, a load crack heralded the snapping of his ribs, and soon after he was on the floor of the room moaning but still cursing and trying to fight for his life. “Bastard...won’t...kill me.”...he told Faylon though his voice was barely comprehensible and shaking his head all Faylon could do was reply...”No. You won’t.”...in a matter of fact sort of tone while stepping backwards. Clawing at his legs as he went Faylon would only kick the man’s arm away while his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. Unsheathing the Longsword for the second time in what he hoped wasn’t becoming a habit Faylon moved in for the killing blow, two handing his hilt and positioning the blade down towards the man, before delivering.] [As the Longsword sunk into the man Faylon watched his body shudder and then go limp. It was over, he was dead. Vision clearing shortly afterwards Faylon didn’t feel very righteous about killing this man but he understood it needed to be done and that there was nothing else he could have done. At least not in his own opinion. Killing the man had been for nothing though and his corpse was a testament to a wasted life that should have went on awhile longer but didn’t. Now all that was left was a body that needed burying or burning.] [Looking around Faylon finally noticed that he was standing in a bedroom, or maybe a spare room made into one, and taking a moment he wondered if anyone else was here. Noticing a door at one end of the room he went to it, opening it, and looked into the room on the other side. There was a small hearth and table with a set of chairs on the other side but that was all. Stepping into the room to examine it he couldn’t see anything else but he had to make sure. A wave of nausea hit Faylon, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of the Longsword he still held, and his knees buckled before he fell down onto them as though he were praying. He felt sick to his stomach.] [Shaking his head Faylon knew he couldn’t afford to feel sorry for killing though and rising back to his feet, his fingers loosening around the hilt of his sword which he soon buried back into its sheath, he moved over to the hearth and outstretched his hands to drink in the heat. Warmth made him forget about the men that lay dead and the Bonesnappers winds were now only a distant memory in the back of his mind. Nothing wrong with staying here for a spell so that I can get warm he reasoned and that is just what he intended to do.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

6th of Winter, 511AV 17th Bell [Later on when he finally woke up Faylon was wiping his eyes with his hands and then staring awestruck at the ceiling. He’d forgotten that he slept in the house of the man he’d killed. Apparently no one had come calling or, if they had, they hadn’t been so alarmed as to warrant a further investigation into why there was no answer from inside. At the foot of the bed in the room where Faylon had wandered over to sleep the body was still laying there with its blood staining the floor. Luckily it didn’t smell. No point of getting rid of it though seeing as how he couldn’t stay here in the long term.] [Lifting up onto his elbows Faylon would look around before climbing out of the bed. As he did so his eyes almost went instinctively to the dead man causing him to shake his head again while he muttered...”You just couldn’t listen.”...he readily blamed the dead man for what happened to him now. If he would have listened instead of coming to assumptions then he’d still be alive and Faylon would have never had to get blood on his hands but that was behind him now. He shouldn’t dwell on it but it was difficult not to spare it a second thought at the very least. Walking away from the corpse Faylon would look down the hall that lead to the alley entrance of the dwelling, he’d propped the chair that was thrown at him against it, it was still sealed reasonably well which was all that mattered. No one had tried to come in. Also in the hall were the bodies of the three dead men. Drug inside before they were noticed so the alley didn’t get more attention than it was due.] [Everything was in order. No one else seemed to have seen Faylon and he didn’t plan on staying around til someone started asking questions. It was time to leave but before he could there was a knock at the main door. Shyke! Nothing could ever be easy and without knowing exactly why he was doing it Faylon went to the door and answered it.] [On the other side was a rugged looking sailor that eyed Faylon up and down before saying...”Where the hell is Smee? Who the hell is you!?”...and then putting up his hand to try and brush his way inside before Faylon blocked his advance, using his foot to steady the door, as he answered...”You must have the wrong place friend. I’ve lived here awhile now.”...but it was easy to tell that the sailor wasn’t buying it, he knew where he was. “Listening here mate I know this be Smee’s place and I want to see him. Get out of the way.”...he tried to push his way inside against but Faylon still wasn’t budging and he answered...”No look I told you once. This isn’t where this Smee lives. Now get out of here. You’re not welcome.”...trying to be a bit more threatening wasn’t helping his case either though as the sailor put his hand on the door making it clear he wasn’t just going to leave.] [All Faylon needed was more trouble and for someone to force their way inside only to find Smee dead in the bedroom. It seemed like he was in a bit of a bind or maybe not. Holding onto the door so that the sailor remained just at its berth but unable to make his way into the dwelling Faylon would call on his djed to aid him in this situation. Channelling his djed through himself, particularly his voice and his eyes he would begin by saying...”Now look. You have the wrong place. Smee doesn’t live here.”...his eyes and the sailors were on one another, staring into each other, so it only helped Faylon work his subtle Hypnosis over the man as he went on...”Maybe Smee moved. He’s not here anymore though. You want to leave.”...and pushing himself just a little bit Faylon would plant a seed of fear into the back of the sailors mind to help him along. “Aye. Aye. I must be in the wrong place.”...the sailor would have started to say before moving backwards, his hand taken off the door, and then excusing himself while Faylon shut the door again and went back about his business.] [Without any further distractions Faylon would have gotten ready to leave. His mind working as he went he’d lean down next to the body of Smee and search it, looking for something. Eventually he’d find a key for his door and place it into the pocket of his trousers before standing, leaving the dead where it lay, Faylon wouldn’t touch his coin purse. There was one more thing that he would take though and that was a blanket from the bed which he’d unceremoniously stuff into his backpack before heading towards the back door to leave. Anything to help stave off the Bonesnappers wind for awhile longer.] [Dislodging the chair from the back door Faylon would head out into the evening. Dark already due to the winter season and cold as hell thanks to the winds coming off the bay. Damn the Bonesnapper was bad. Stepping out into the alleyway again Faylon would have turned his head to look in both directions before heading out onto the streets of Zeltiva where he could lose himself in the city again, forgetting this day in the process if at all possible.] [Looking back at the alley once he was on the street he’d noticed how the building he was in went higher and must have been the home to several all in their own separate apartments or hovels. If anything was heard from earlier no one seemed to have been extremely curious which is just as Faylon liked it. No questions and no more trying to give answers. Moving on the streets he’d turn his eyes front and never stop to look back. It’d been a tough go since he came back to Zeltiva this time but Faylon had learned about the city, the docks and the university when he was here the last time. Now it was time to put some of what he knew to use.]

[Paragon]

Faylon : Faylon Skill XP Reward Longsword +4 Unarmed Combat +3 Boxing +2 Wrestling +1 Hypnotism +1 Acrobatics +1 Running +1 Lore: Fight or Die, Don't Lodge Swords in Skulls, The Art of Murder, Tidying Up a Crime Scene Other: + Smee's Key Great solo, loved the combat scenes as always. Apologies if I went a little overboard with the lore's, you don't have to use them - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, don't hesitate to PM me.