(Flashback/Training) Aftermath

[Vrok]

14 Summer 505 AV

It was all gone. Everything. The vats, the kegs. The finished product. All that remained was the straw mat in the corner and the refuse from the break in. Oh and of course Dad on the wall. There were footprints in the dirt before the macabre trophy. They must have been staring at it. Vrok looked at his father on the wall and stuck two of his fingers up into the skull through the upper palate, feeling that the mother lode was still inside. Stupid Vagiks.

Vrok could feel the rage crawling up his throat in the form of bile, like a hairy caterpillar. He heard a light snicker behind him, which turned him on his heel with a quickness. Varner, one of the punks that he knew from the Slag Pile was standing in the mouth of the cave, a few shadowy figures behind him.

"Thanks for the swill, Vrag. It was slightly better than piss." The shadows closed in, revealing three other nonames he had brought for backup. he was going to need backup. The backup would need backup. Most of these nancies liked to combined Vagik with Vrok for the aforementioned slur. " So you drink piss now? Good. Cause in a moment, you'll be chasing it with your teeth." Vrok's muscles rippled with a tic as he moved in closer. He wasn't going to give them a chance. they weren't going to learn a lesson, but the others who heard about this would.

Varner nodded his head with a smile at the two flanks as three men rushed into the cave. Vrok braced for it, his hands raised as he waved them in. He welcomed them. The babes didn't even know what they were doing. The first was a bit shorter than Vrok. He came at him like a bull, rushing him to get him on his back. He didn't have the strength in his legs to make that happen, though. Once his arms reached around the man's torso, Vrok's eyes lit up like a firelight, his elbows coming down with the force of a rockslide into the man's spine.

The other two, thinking Vrok was immobile now, started throwing punches at him, Varner chuckling in the meantime, hoping they would wear this beast down for a righteous kill. Not in this lifetime. He took the punches offered, as the mediocre strength behind them only fueled the anger inside Vrok. They didn't understand that their target spent every day working and training his body. Even in the dark of night, when others slept, the obsessive attention to each muscle group paid itself off in this moment.

Retribution. After five or six hard strikes to the grappler, the back before him, already swelling, began to buckle. Vrok pushed him back with a kinetic force of will and muscle coordination. He went down on his back, groaning and rolling around. The others weren't so pleased now. The one on his left gripped his forearm, Vrok using the connection to pull his body toward him. Coming off of his feet with the force in his body, Vrok headbutted the man so hard he opened his own brow up with the force. The impact twisted the punk's nose into a work of art, blood spraying from it.

Blood now trickled into Vrok's vision, the red only increasing his rage. He caught the other contestant by the throat, taking him to the cave wall. This unfortunate would be the inheritor of the torrent of rage. Hard, calloused knuckles came down on to the man's face, each one harder and more severe than the one previous. A string of intelligible slurs came from Vrok's lips as he punched and punched. The former punk jumped up on Vrok's back, his arms wrapping around his neck to put him out.

Vrok stepped back, the punching bag sliding to the floor in a puddle of himself. He kept stepping, running backward and jumping into the cave wall behind him, leaping before to slam the weight of the two men into the unforgiving rock. He heard the crack of the other's skull on the wall and the grip released. Covered in the blood of himself and the others, Vrok stepped toward the mouth of the cave. he must have looked like a dire beast of the jungle once the light hit him, as Varner was quickly recounting his decision. A roar of anger bellowed from Vrok's lungs. His arm raised until it was lined up at the supposed boss, his index finger pointed at him, marking him for sure and painful death.

Varner became intelligent as his eyes widened like saucers. He turned tail and ran. Vrok's feet began to follow when the first man to touch him grabbed his ankle, feebly trying to turn it. Every muscle group. Even the shins and calves. No turning was given. Vrok looked down at him, a wide grin of teeth causing the man to release him, his hands raised in self defense. Blood dripped down on the thing that tried to impede him. Just to be sure, Vrok proceeded to lift his foot high and bring it down on hard on the man's chest, digging his heel in. A series of kicks and stomps came down like thunderclaps as the fetching punk rolled around into a little ball, like one of those bugs you found underneath a log. Once he stopped moving, Vrok's head lifted, his breathing hard and controlled. No way was Varner escaping.