[Flashback] Part one: First Times (Markus)

[Bob Barton]

67th day of Spring 506 AV, outside the Butcher of Alban

The location that Bob picked was not because it was a place that he knew would be good enough for him to make some money. It was a place picked out of desperation that once he got hold of some mizas he was going to run right in. Bob has suddenly been losing very badly suddenly after a long run of good luck which was enough to get him through the winter and instead on pushing it further he should have just went and gotten himself a job. Even the last few silver coins were not enough for him to get one of the cheap and old salted meats that was for sale but with a few well done wins he would have enough...and extra to use for the next few days. It was not greed, it was foresight. Any gambler would know that greed is a killer but even if greed was not the motivation, "are you prepared to have a gamble?"

That was the way that he approached the passerbys. Cards being shuffled in hand and face all full of confidence that did not betray the hunger that he actually felt. Almost all of them walked away almost immediately but those that actually did stay even for a moment were quickly caught by Bob gripping tightly at the shoulder with whatever strength remained in him. Force would only get the knights right on him so Bob quickly offered "a friendly game with a minimal stake for you. Only a silver. Some fun after the harsh winter." Fun and games for them but each silver he put out was like sapping his lifeforce away and while he won some games he lost others dragging on the experience longer for him. Bob only continued on because these were his cards and he knew them well. The wear and tear from practicing were ingrained into his very being allowing him to identify some of the cards just by some dirt, stains and marks which appeared naturally through its playing life so no one should be able to accuse him of cheating.

At first Bob was losing not because of his lack of skills but because the "cards are shyke." As if Ovek himself was opposing himself at every round. Even when he got himself a good hand somehow or another his opponent got better and it was those cards that Bob was unable to identify right until they were exposed. Always thinking that he was safe, that those majority or minority cards he based his calls on were the low ones when the layers of grime on the cards touched his skin Bob just never seemed to call the right ones getting dangerously close to his last silver miza. When that one was gone it will be all over. He could risk the knights intervention if he tried some begging but at the time most of the good spots will be gone and by the time they would get free the next day he would be just too tired to try anything.

He took a short break for himself and got to thinking the reasons of why he was losing. If it was truly the god of gambling maybe he was trying to teach Bob a lesson but what could he want with a Barton? "Nope, if a god is disturbing me then I would just go against him by myself with my own luck and skills!" he said trying to convince himself as he went forward again. No dirty tricks this time. The last silver was going to be put in and if he lost it there was no one else to blame but himself. This time for just that chance to make a difference Bob allowed his opponent to shuffle the cards because "I am a very fair guy." When Bob picked his own cards that was the only thing he knew about the match besides whatever signs that his opponent might show him. His opponent's face looked quite disturbed and Bob's cards were not bad probably only mediocre at best. It was time to take a chance and with a grin he said "I hope that your first lost of the year won't be a sign of anything." As soon as he said it his opponent conceded refusing to call the bluff. "I'll see you again next timeeee" he waved the woman goodbye in a harmonious tone.

Taking advantage of the change Bob quickly challenged another passerby because "this is not a chance to be missed!" Again he allowed his opponent to shuffle the cards and he saw that his cards were more or less the same. Not good but "not bad either" he said with another grin to put up a facade of confidence in his victory when he saw his opponent tapping his finger impatiently. One of the tell signs that he learned to look out for that would be right most of the time. Rather than be defeated the man just gave up and walked away leaving that silver miza which was not worth much but Bob made a quick grab for it not wanting to lose it right until he got some food in him. That time would only come after some time of continuing the game over and over with random passerbys until he had enough money to walk into that store as a paying customer.

[Markus Andres]

A broad shouldered young boy, standing roughly 5'7'' tall, blond hair and piercing eyes. His frame was lean and a cocky smile was on his lips. It was with a great sense of pride, that Markus wandered down one of the many pathways of Syliras. His clothes were simple colored cloth ones. Dark blue in color. His pride stemmed from the fact that on that very day, Markus had won his first fight. His master had put him against some unfortunate squire that Markus had defeated with a simple one-two shieldbash to the face. His back straighter than normal, his gaze rarely fell upon anyone, but he would understand if the gazes of the people would fall on him. Eyes filled with admiration of the up and coming knight. For after such a brilliant display of skill, no doubt they would fast-track him for knighthood. It was only natural. Imagine his surprise when some filthy scum from the street dared to touch him. Worse yet, talk to him. Challenge him to gamble. It was unthinkable. Did this brat not know that Markus was far superior to him? What a disgrace! What humiliation! It was unbearable! His eyes snapped to look at the brat. More than a brat, a small man perhaps. His face looked too mature for a boy. Meaning, he must be a midget. That put a mean smile on Markus face. "Get away from me you filthy midget!" Markus said as he shoved an elbow in the direction of the boy's ribs. Hoping to wind the boy as punishment for putting his slimy fingers on someone from a superior breed and status. He ought to give him a lesson right there and then. A lesson more than a mere elbow to the side. Markus had always been easy to anger. Now this rat dared touch him. It infuriated him. "How dare something as small and insignificant as you speak to me." He spat out in thinly veiled rage. Markus hands would shoot out to shove the man further back. Hoping to push him away from prying eyes. So he could beat him up in peace without any interference.

[Bob Barton]

Yes, compared to the tall and confident boy with hair that would make any girl swoon if he just flipped it at their direction if there were actually any around looking at him, what exactly was Bob? Just a filthy street scu...wait... "who are you calling filthy you pomp-" actually no. Bob will not be continuing that sentence but in that line of thought, how can he be filthy? He was only on the street for a few bells and he surely did not live on it. He still had his room in the row, fully paid off at least until the end of the season. The only reason he needed money now was because of food. This...boy in front of him. It was not only the money Bob wanted anymore. Now this was a matter of pride. There had to be payback especially with the pain that was on his side right now from the unexpected elbow blow. The only question was how. So many choices but so many endings as well.

The choices were cut down when he realized that he could not bring anyone else into this as well or he would risk losing this big and significant person if he wanted to be compared to as that. Bob had to settle this on his own. But while he was sizing his opponent up, still wanting to do it through a gamble he was rushed into the alleyway behind him. Something he really wanted to avoid because even on inspection there was the lack of visible weapons and nice clothes which would just show him as some uppity upstart with no real skills to speak of, he was completely dwarfed with his 4'5". Bob landed on his ass, cards flying all around and coins clinking on the ground. Through all that mess he spoke out loudly, not showing any sign of weakness to this bully just so he could make him doubt his level in life because "you're the one talking to me now aren't ya?" with an amused smile on his face. Like right now Bob has become the most significant person among the two.

That being said Bob knew that it was inevitable that he was going to get a beat down. Why else would someone so angry send him somewhere where no one else would see or bother to come to? At least Bob had the perfect reason to trade blows if it came to that, and its not because he was easily pissed. However this boy wanted to come at him, slow or fast, Bob will also get up by himself. The only difference is if he was given enough time to get up Bob would collect his mizas and cards from the ground and if there was no such luxury, and hint of him going to get attacked would have Bob trying to roll backwards to get back on his feet like he saw other street performers doing before but unfortunately it was going to be one of those things that he did not learn very well. He only got was far as getting his back on the ground and legs into the air when he felt "I am not going any further than this" and threw his body to the side in a spin hopefully out of the way of any attack he would be trying to avoid with the earlier roll and standing back up.

Going face to face Bob would tauntingly say the same way kids would to piss others off as demonstrated by this boy that "that was not very nice" for pushing him or any attacks that may be attempted. There he just stood at ready not wanting to make the first move just in case he might have a chance to push the blame of the scuffle off him in case the knights found out about it. That being said he was still preparing himself. Since he did not want to start he could only observe what was going to happen soon and try and avoid it, better still if it could be through acceptance of "I don't suppose we can discuss about this?" At the same time his eyes were looking all over the alleyway he was in. Without a weapon he needed something else he could use to protect himself and with the lack of any visible weapons, this boy might still have something else on him like a dagger. If only his cane sword did not look so nice and sophisticated. Bob could have kept it with him instead of hiding it away but it was too late for that now and it does not look like he would have a chance to go and retrieve it.

[Markus Andres]

With the boy on the ground, his rage subsided a bit and there was even the hint of a smirk on the edge of Markus' lips when the boy's items scattered all around him as he fell. But the smirk turned into a sneer when the boy dared to talk back. Markus hated the smart asses. Those who thought they were brave by talking back. Markus would enjoy knocking the brat's teeth loose. Markus' amusement returned when he tried to gather his meager money and cards again. Those possessions really mattered to him. An insidious thought crept up the back of his mind as he slowly walked forward. The midget boy would have to work for it to get those things back. Markus' right leg would swiftly strike at the boy. Try and kick him away from the scattered items. But the boy surprised Markus, he rolled away from him. To Markus it did not look particularly elegant. But it did the trick and he did avoid the kick. He reminded Markus of a dog submitting by putting itself in its most vulnerable position. Was this rat submitting to Markus? It brought the humored smirk back on his lips as the possibilities played out in his mind. But once again the brat surprised Markus with his continued struggle. It entertained him a little to see the boy constant struggle to just appear somewhat human. But he supposed that was a common trait for people of his low rank. That was when he realized, he could not accept the boy to submit, even if he wanted. For then he would be associated with his kind. He sent a glance over his shoulder. What if people saw him converse with him. He would have to make it quick. Both for his reputations sake and before the knights found him. The boy's last attempt at deflecting hostilities felt like an insult to Markus. It was the last straw that broke his restraint. "The time for talk is over..." Markus growled lowly as his knuckles cracked ominously. He would dash forward. His right hand cocked in a tight fist. Every muscle almost flexed as he launched his right fist forward. Directly at the middle of the midget's face.

[Bob Barton]

The time for talk was over? That was not something that Bob liked to hear from anyone especially when it is accompanied with that gesture. He already knew what was up of course and knew what he wanted...well not wanted exactly but what he needed to do. He tried suggesting that "maybe you'll talk to a knight?" though he would not really have that happen because he knew how much they did not like street performers, or bums like what he has been doing. But, his boy did not know that and he might be scared off if he thought that "they'd hav-eeeee?" a few words about his misbehavior but the boy was right. The time for talk was over.

And that was because he threw the first blow! As Bob was hoping that the threats of knights would scare him off he did not fully prepare himself for it. He was a little bit too slow in stepping back, and slower in leaning back so he was not completely able to avoid the fist. A bump, maybe a nudge if he wanted to say he was brave and Bob was falling to the ground with blood trailing from his nose while he was staring right at his assailant still surprised that someone would dare to do something like this in Syliras.

Ideas of vengeance raced through until he reached the ground thinking of the best way to teach this punk he was not as high as he thought. Bob already saw so many things when he was looking through the alley. One of the discarded sticks from the pile would not be any good since its too common and neither would the lid from the can. If anything, it would give this one more reason to insult him thinking he was playing at knights. So why was it that as soon as Bob got back to his feet he dashed straight to the can to lift the lid?

It was not to toss it, that was only a distraction though Bob would have been pleased to see his splendid form copied from one of the street performers he saw before. A curled to a straightened arm in one fluid motion sending the lid whizzing swiftly forward before sending a few pieces of sticks after. Hopefully that would be enough to distract the boy until Bob got to heaving up a sack of trash from the can. Nice, it was not heavy except for the smell. Filthy was going to be the least of this foul fiend's concerns once Bob got to swinging it around like a flail.

[Markus Andres]

There it was. The sweet moment of impact. Markus could feel the power of the impact move through his knuckles and hand. Although he had lost most sensation of feeling in his knuckles a long time ago as a young page, this he felt. He could feel it further up his arm. It had been a great hit! There was a thing about the knight's sense of honor that bothered him. Always had. Why fight fair. Why did the spars always have to be on equal ground. Put someone in a desperate situation and watch him claw his way out and thus improved. Markus was not pretending this was one such situation. This was just Markus showing vermin its proper place in society. Markus followed the rat as he tried to back away from him. He tilted his head a little when he saw the boy pick up the lid. Clear to see what the kid had planned. To use it as a shield. It made sense. That was why Markus' eyes went wide when the lid was thrown in his direction. Markus' instincts lifted his right arm in the air and blocked the lid directly on his forearm. There was a moment where Markus stopped in his tracks. He bit his teeth together as a howl of pain escaped his lips. Biting back the sudden pain. Markus could feel the rage swell and he made no attempt to try and slow himself down. The boy had made him feel pain! No mercy! He charged directly at the boy again. The sticks bounced harmlessly off of his torso. The kid reacted quickly. The bag of trash coming in from the side. Hitting the charging Markus' shoulder where it promptly exploded. Showering Markus backside in trash. But he barely registered that fact. For he had a single goal in mind. Markus' left fist came flying in low. Aimed for the boy's soft stomach area. Then as a follow up attack, Markus' forehead flew directly forward. Aimed at the middle of the brat's face. Trying to mess up his nose even further. Give him pain for weeks! That should teach him not to forget his place! But for Markus, that hardly mattered anymore. He just wanted to dish out what he had received.

[Bob Barton]

The sweet clanging sound of success, and people always liked to say that garbage was useless. Bob never smelled a better smell than the ones that were coming from the burst bag, except lunch from a few days back and probably the bath too. Of course the guy with the fancy shirt did not feel the same way since the shirt would be badly stained with...ugh. If it was Bob he would proudly display it as a...nah! He would wash it off as soon as possible too because no one would be able to live with that stench. Even if he could tolerate it there would be a ton of people in Syliras who would not including the knights that would find excuses to toss him out.

All of that can be resolved another time if Bob is ever in that position because right now he was in pain, again. Bob who was preparing for a victory pose with the bag in hand took the full brunt of the blow to his stomach. Fortunately he did not have much to eat since the day before or those would be joining in the boy's new taste in clothes but he still needed to clutch his stomach as he took a bow to try and tolerate the damage.

A bad move on his part because wham! the boy's forehead smashed into the top of Bob's head when he went to move down although if he knew the intents of the attack, he might feel a lot more relieved. At that point Bob was confused. From the motivations of the attack to where he put his hands to protect himself and rub his pain away. The stomach or the head? Oh wait, there was a better idea...

Zip!

Bob sent a clumsy punch upwards towards the boy who was hurting him. To return some of that pain and show that he was not going to allow himself to be victimized. That was only to give himself enough room apart from his attacker whether the impact pushed him back or whether he avoided so that when Bob twisted the side of his body to face the boy he could go bump! at the chest and push the boy further away.

Maybe this was the way that street brawls started but for Bob all he wanted was to get the source of this unprovoked attack off of him. At least until he had time to recover and think it through.

[Markus Andres]

There was always a sweet moment of jubilation when an attack landed successfully. Markus lived and breathed for those moments, he was being raised and trained as a warrior, might as well enjoy the sweeter moments of it. But the jubilation of the latter of his attacks soon wore off. For despite his masters numerous attempts at toughening Markus up for blunt force trauma, throwing a headbutt always left the attacker with almost the same damage as the receiver. So his forehead felt like it had just been hit with a hammer, Markus was momentarily disoriented. But he was certain that his combo would have worked. Knocked the midget out. For who could stand against Markus? None. That was who. He was about to take a step back, self-satisfied smirk on his lips. When he felt a hand collide with his stomach and it almost drove the air from his lungs. His teeth bit together. He felt the midget push him back. What dishonor! The midget had slipped past his defence! He had dirtied his clothes. And now, last but not least, he had punched Markus. It was a disgrace! It was almost unbearable. Markus stepped on the trash that had been scattered behind him. Some of it squished beneath his feet. Almost caused him to slip. But not quite. He was amazed. The boy was still standing. He was made of stronger stuff than his height dictated. He flexed his muscles. His fists clenched tightly as he took a step forward. Something rattled beneath his foot. Looking down he saw the remains of a fish. The bones having been picked clean. Markus put his left foot underneath it and kicked it at the midget. Followed up by nothing less than a charge. Use his physically larger body to just ram the boy into the ground. Where beating him to a pulp would be easy as pie. No fancy strategies, no intricate techniques. Just simple ground and pound.

[Bob Barton]

It could be argued that the most disgusting thing in the alley was not the garbage strewn around but the haughty attitude the squire. At least he will make a good knight in the future having a lot of things to be hated for that would only be tolerated as long as he could keep people safe. Bob however seeing the fish suddenly flying at him while he was backing away to escape thought that the disgusting remains would give him too much trouble later on. Already this brat thought he was filthy and that fact was going to be more closer to real. Bob's mind already decided on fleeing got confused with the sudden instinct to dodge and so when he twisted his waist to get out of the way, his foot stepped on something else making him slip backwards to fall. That was going to hurt a lot.

But still a lot less that what he would have had if he stood still to receive the full impact of the charging squire if he had decided to resist. Bob fell down to the ground pushed along by the squire's heavier body while he waved his arms wildly trying to just hit and scare the brat off but it did not work. It was as if his blows did not hit the mark, Bob felt his hands hitting places, maybe the arms or sides which can easily be shrugged off by a determined attacker but he had the right idea which was why Bob tried to fight back the way he did. No strategies, no intricate techniques. It was the same when he tried to defend himself. It was no ground and pound for him but to not receive the ground and pound.

Instinct was a good substitute for all those and Bob like all other cornered people found himself forced to defend his face that was the most vulnerable spot for him. That and he could see how he was getting hurt with his eyes which did not help actually. Holding up his arms in front of him Bob did his best to see where the punches were coming from if he was brave enough and to try blocking them off. At least at that time he should be satisfied that none hit the middle around his eyes, nose and mouth but they still hurt. But he relented in trying to match up arm against fist doing a few rolls to the side to try and push the boy's arms away and create for himself an opening until he could not take it anymore and decided to lash out.

While people think that being bigger was better in a fight perhaps this time Bob had the advantage of having shorter legs. It was a move of desperation which raised his leg, that having more room to move compared to the knee should be able to provide quite a kick but where will it land on his opponent? Now matter where it better count. Anymore and Bob might find himself out cold right until nightfall which might not be too bad in a safe place like Syliras if the knights also did not have that no street policy of theirs as well. Hitting, Bob brought it down to create more force with the other leg since it was his only way of fighting back. Just who would stop first in this exchange of blows?

[Markus Andres]

Markus had a problem with containing his rage once it had been unleashed. Most people tended to have that problem, but Markus had plenty of pent up anger and frustration. And now he had a good excuse to let it all out in one go. He rained down with blows at the smaller kid. Not caring one bit if he messed up the poor lad's face or caused terrible injures. He just wanted to destroy. Markus knuckles hurt from pounding on the kid's arms. Even once were his punch slid down beside the kid's face and collided with the pavement. But he was much too angry to deal with that at the moment. Most rational thoughts were gone. Just gritted teeth and a blood lust. Markus withdrew his right arm and prepared to power through with a punch and smash the kid's puny defence. He felt something collide with a region of his body that was really sensitive. A strange sound left Markus' lips as the pain registered somewhere deep inside his skull. It felt as if someone had taken a morning star and crushed his entire lower body. He fell back on his rump and he kicked at the ground to get some distance between the two as he held his very, very hurt manhood. At that moment he couldn't give less of a shyke about his pride. The pain was too sharp and constant for him to keep his mind on anything else. "You little shyke." He gasped between quick breaths. "Petching bastard." His back soon hit a stone wall from backing up and he rested against it. He tried as hard as he could to somehow subdue the pain he was feeling in his manhood. He looked to the boy and rage swelled for a moment before the pain returned and kept him stunned by the wall.