Flashback The Masked Man in Sunberth

[Solland Volk]

Day 83, Winter of 512 A.V. It was nearing the end of the Winter season, by the time Solland entered the city. Spring was quickly approaching and the temperature of the city was above its normality for this time. A thin slush blanketed the ground as the warmth began to melt the winters snow. Finally entering the city, Solland noticed that it was dirty and unclean, the stone that the buildings were made out off were covered with grime, the streets was a haven for refuse that the people threw out, this ultimately encouraged all kinds of vermin to make their home here. So far by the look of things this was a disgusting city with not one bit of respect or decency. Solland hoped that this wasn't a familiar sight as he ventured deeper into the stone jungle. Trudging his way through the slushy streets, unknown where to start searching, Solland followed where the majority of the people headed towards, trying his hardest to remain inconspicuous, this would prove a challenge though, not many people went about their business, clad in armour, surrounded by a mass of dark green cloth. His mask was bound to attract unwanted attention aswell. His secret must be protected at all cost. Covering his face out of sight, Solland carried onward. The reason why Solland ended up in a place like Sunberth was to search for man who ruined him. Where would he start though? All the criminal scum with no morals or aspirations conspired here, maybe that was a good thing, when it came to finding the less lawful of sorts that have wronged you. Solland himself doubted that it would be that easy to just appear and find his target. However hopefully he wouldn't leave this place empty handed. Information would be welcomed, Blood even more. Following the crowd of people, Solland eventually broke clear of the filthy alleyways into a place what the locals called the Castle Commons. Solland noticed crowds of people bartering for goods at the stalls and shops. Children covered in any kind of dirt ran around in their little gangs looking for the unwary so they could steal anything they could get their hands on. Solland quickly tucked his side-bag of Miza's into his green surcoat. Solland also noticed what looked like to be guards or mercenaries around some of the shop, most like to deter thief's. That would be easily found work, if his coin was running low. Observing the populous from the side while leaning on the stone wall that made up a warehouse, Solland decided his next step of action. "You there.. boy." Solland pointed at a boy, in his mid-teens, giving him a gesture to come over. Solland's voice was deep, authoritarian and sounded a bit metallic due to the metal mask covering his face. The teenager acknowledged Solland's request and made his way over, his posture and body language was that of someone trying to display toughness and aggressiveness, it also had a hint of arrogance. A similar trait that he himself portrayed at that age. "What do you want, I have a busy day ahead of me and I gots no time to speak to old cripples." The teenagers voice was harsh and rugged. His face was bruised and his skin was covered with grime. This must of been a regular look for the young of Sunberth. "I am looking for a tavern that has lodgings, preferably without the disturbance of drunks and thugs.." his voice retained his totalitarian tone. "Oh yeah? Why should I tell an old cripple that is so ugly he has to wear a mask?" The teenagers voice was smug and cruel, he gave a slight chuckle and then gave an arrogant and confident smirk. Solland had heard many insults over the years, but he never got used to them. -A blow with a word, strikes deeper than a blow with a sword- that was always the case with him, it made him angry because before his disfigurement he was such a handsome and proud man. Without saying a word, Solland grabbed the boy and dragged him into a more secluded alleyway, out of the curious eyes of the majority of the populous. Shouting and struggling the boy tried to break but was futile in his attempts. Holding the boy by the neck with his armoured hand, Solland started to slowly squeeze, increasingly applying the smallest amount of pressure. The metal of the gauntlets started to cut into the boys dirty skin as the teenager continued to struggle. He was in Sunberth for less than a day and he was already, dishing out his perceived vengeance. "Your going to tell me what I want to know." Solland's voice had grown more firm and aggressive since the last time he spoke. "Burn in what ever fires you came from, you bastard!" The boy then spat in Solland's face, a slight metallic ping gave way as the spit connected with Solland's mask. The insults began to grow more and more hurtful, Solland was loosing his patience. "Every time I dont not get the information I desire, I will break one of your fingers! Do you understand me!? If you continue through the pain and still do not tell me, I will cut your throat!" Solland wasn't afraid of dishing out pain if the situation called for it, this kids arrogance and defiance was the exact same mistake that he himself did before his face had been melted. He learnt to take threats seriously, it was time for this boy to do the same. "You wouldn't dare!!" the boys tone of voice began to heighten as fear became to settle. A sickening crack was quickly followed by a scream, Solland's threats were not hollow. He boys finger had been broken and now had an unnatural curve to it. That was one finger out and only nine more to go. The boy continued to struggle with a renew sense of escape as he now understood the pain that was involved if he followed this path of defiance. A moment passed as the boy continued to to scream, the shrieks of pain was mixed with the physicality of tears running down the boys cheeks. Solland quickly understood that no one cared in Sunberth, no one would help a merchant from a mugging, no one would help a women from a rape. This city lacked order and law and was the definition of anarchy. Another crack rang in Solland's ears as he broke the second finger of the boys. The boy began to weep fully as he began to experience more pain. "I grow tired of these games! Tell me now or I promise you that you will die!" Solland's voice was full of rage, his hold around the boys neck began to tighten as the anger he was experiencing fuelled his grip. The boy had finally broke, his weeping became louder and more pronounced, the tears that first came out in drops, now came out in streams, a river of tears carved its way through the grime that clinged to the boys face. "Ok ok!! No more please!! The Drunken Fish!! Its on the docks! Its got rooms!" The boy's voice cracked and broke like a little girls as he pointed towards the direction of the tavern he previously mentioned. Dropping the child to the ground, Solland gave a firm backhand to the boy, the blow connected on the side of the teenagers head, causing him to fly backwards. The metal gauntlets increased the force of the blow aswell as the damage it caused. The boy did nothing but huddle into a ball, holding his hand and face. Stepping out of the little alley that had been the site for his intimidation. Solland made his way to the Drunken Fish tavern. So he could wash himself and reflect on what had happened so far.

[Solland Volk]

Solland had finally made his way into the docks, his short journey there had been quiet and calm, this was surprising from what he had seen in the city, he was half expecting to be attacked or stabbed but his actions of interrogation and violence must of kept potential antagonists at bay. Walking through the docks, his metal encased feet made lowly thumping sounds with each step as his boots connected with the wood that made up the pier. He noticed that the docks was in a position, comparable with the rest of the city, dirty, vermin ridden and in a state of disrepair and neglect. Ships constantly came in and out, off-loading goods and items of trade and on-loading slaves and another less honourable objects. All manner of sailor littered this part of the city, big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones, even the occasional one with a wooden leg and eye patch. Reaching the tavern that had a crudely made sign, dangling overhead, Solland entered the establishment. As soon as he passed the doorway, he was greeted by a sour and bitter smell of ale mixed with the sweat of the rowdy sailors that filled the whole building with the sounds of fighting and song. The sight of a large area filled with tables surrounded by all kinds of people made him feel vulnerable, Solland could feel countless pairs of eyes staring at him from across the whole room, however the rough patrons eventually continued there unruly behaviour as Solland walked his way up to the presumed owner that was behind the bar. The bartender was a massive stomached and jovial looking fellow with a small smile across his face, this was a welcome change from the weary and grime look that was upon many of the residence here. "I seek a room, a basin of clean water and a length of cloth, no questions asked.." Solland's voice was firm and serious but humble also. He had to watch himself in this place especially since it was crawling with drunk sailors and shifty characters that were equally, if not more remorseless than himself. Solland reached into his dark green surcoat and plucked out five golden mizas, his gauntlet gave a quiet knock to the wooden bar as he place the currency in front of the large man. The barkeep looked up and down at Solland, his eyes gave away the immense curiosity that lurked within his mind, no doubt because of the mask that clinged to Solland's burnt face. Without a word he gave Solland a smile. "Third floor, fourth room on the right, Ill send someone up with the basin and cloth". The man's voice was quiet and respectful. Solland returned the barkeepers cooperation with a nod of equal respect and gratefulness. Walking to the back corner of the large first floor, Solland started to climb the old, chipped wooden steps that led to the third floor. Moans of pleasure and desire echoed as he passed the second floor, this wasn't just a tavern, it was a place men came to satisfy their lust. Walking into his room and closing the squeaky door, Solland sat on the bed that was the main piece of furniture in the room. A table rested in the corner with a single candle on top. The candle burned slowly and gave just enough light for Solland to inspect the room. The floor was scraped and stained, the bed was filled with a mixture of straw and feathers, there was a set of drawers that was place against one of the walls that looked neglected and covered with scratches. It wasn't paradise but what could he expect? It was Sunberth and it was far better than braving the night out in the stone jungle that was the essence of anarchy. Unclipping his cloak that surrounded his head and shoulders from the hooks of his armour, Solland neatly folded it into a pile and placed it on the bed. He could feel a soft, cool breeze on the back of his scarred head as the cloth that covered his head now rested on the foot of the bed. Solland then started to take of the rest of his armour off, starting with the gauntlets and ending with the boots. Every piece of his attire came off apart from his mask and cloth trousers. It had been a while since the last time his body got a breath of the cool air, it made his muscles feel more relaxed and at ease. However, this was soon interrupted as he picked up a noise that came from outside the room, he then noticed the knob of the door began to turn ever so slowly. Fearing an attack, Solland unsheathed his blade and pointed it before the door, his muscles shook out of the relaxing state that they began to get used to and tensed, ready for the confrontation that lingered just outside the door. The door slowly creaked open, however before Solland lunged, he was greeted with a young women holding a tray with the basin and cloth, He gave a sigh of relief as he sheathed his blade.

[Solland Volk]

Thank the gods, it wasn't an attacker, Solland was completely exposed without his armour and was not in the situation to defend himself and survive. Solland carefully examined the young women that had brought him his basin full of water and cleaning cloth. Her skin was smooth, her hair was fair and her eyes were a bright blue, much like his own, all these features gave her a look of beauty as well as exposing her vulnerably. Women like her rarely could stay in a place such as this and keep safe, there was always men who had no problem with raping women. Such a disgusting act should be eradicated. Gesturing for the tray to be placed on the table that rested in the corner, Solland watched the nervous girl obey his signals. She was wearing a dirty black overlay of cloth, much comparable to rags. She looked like a slave that worked as a servant doing what ever her owners commanded, cleaning, cooking or even selling herself to the highest bidder. Solland felt sorry for her as her existence was a cruel one, she hadn't experienced the good side of life, this was the reason for Solland's sympathy. Solland continued to look at her, on the right side of her face, Solland noticed a large bruise that was being purposefully covered by the women hair. A sign of ill-treatment for the patrons that resided on the first floor of the tavern. Setting down the tray, the women quickly left the room, possible fearing abuse that she most likely received from the others less kind than himself. Solland however was never one to purposefully strike or disrespect a women that had done nothing to deserve it. Taking his mind off the pretty women, Solland got ready for his activity. Grabbing the length of cloth, Solland dunked it into the cold, clean water, watching the cloth absorb the liquid into its threads. Solland then squeezed out the water and began to wipe down his arms, the water kissed at his fatigued muscles, cooling them and providing comfort. He then dabbed his chest and stomach, cooling them also. The main purpose of this was to cool his muscles before performing the strengthening techniques that was involved in his exercise. However, a warm up was needed to limit the chance of ripping muscles and spraining limbs. Standing up, Solland straightened his arms and began to swing them in a circular motion, this was to loosen the ligaments around the joints to better allow the blood flow. Solland then began to bend to the sides, loosening the abs and muscles of the stomach, this again was to stop the chances of Solland hurting himself. Placing both of his hands on the wooden floor, straightening his back and keeping on the tips of his toes, Solland began to perform push ups. Bending his arms while keeping completely straight, Solland started to push up and down, the strain slowly and surely began to creep up the length of his arms, his biceps bulged as he continued to press down and up, Solland could feel the burn within his arms. After fifty press ups, Solland could not longer take strain as he fell to the floor, a light thump rebounded throughout his room closely followed by the panting coming from his mouth. Sitting up, Solland tucked the top of his feet under the bed and placed his hands behind the back of his extensively scarred head. He was now toning his stomach and abs, this wasn't just to keep him in shape or to encourage muscle growth, it was also crucial to his sword technique. A strong physical element was one of the corner stones to his fighting style that employed strength, speed and endurance. Like the push ups, the sit ups involved a lot of the same strain, the burn situated around the abs and Solland could feel the muscles there tightening, however unlike the push ups, Solland found this exercise so much easier, one after another Solland continued to complete each sit up with near perfect form. An increase in strength and endurance would be some of the positives of working the body regularly as well as the health benefits that soon followed afterwards. Standing back up and controlling his breath pattern. It was time to practise with his blade.

[Solland Volk]

Solland reached over with newly loosened muscles and grasped the leather bound hilt of his blade. Pulling out the sword with a renewed sense of vigour he held the blade out in from of him. Solland began practising the motions of his technique, swinging from left to right in a horizontal slice, almost perfect apart from his wrist was too lax which could cause off balance. Solland threw another swing but from top to bottom this time in a more strengthened motion, the cut was strong, accurate and would cleave flesh if connected with an opponent. After a few more swings with his sword he began practising his parrying. Again holding the blade out in front of him however slight slanted, he began twisting and turning his arms and wrists, mimicking the movements he had performed many times in his life. Parrying was the foundations of his main technique, allowing him to deflect blows and counter with devastating precision and power. It was very effected against other sword users but again those who favoured an axe or a mace, it was flawed and Solland would have to resort to a more evasive and aggressive style of combat. Several bells had past and after finishing his training along with some time of rest and reflection Solland began to re-equip his armour and make his way down stairs to the sound of laughter, cursing and fighting. Opening the door that was the entrance to his grubby room, Solland made his way down the winding stairs, letting off a distinctive thud each time his armoured foot connected with the wood. Eventually he entered the main part of the building that was so tavern like, he was greeted with the sight of rough, rowdy sailors, busty barmaids and the smell of low quality ale that they all seemed to guzzle down their gluttonous throats. Solland approached the bar keep. "I am looking for some information.. and possibly some work." Solland's metallic voice seemed to keep the barman's attention from the rough environment that was created in his establishment by all types of violence. "There is plenty work out in this city. Honest work? Speak to the merchants that try to sell their wares. Not so honest work? You'll find many men that need things done for them in this establishment or other like it." the barman's voice lowered into almost a whisper trying to remain unheard by all but Solland. "As for information? That depends what is being asked." Solland replied in his usual stern tone, although quitened. "I am looking for someone by the name of Greybor" The barman's face turned into one of interest, the wrinkles in his face characterized the information that resided in his thoughts. "Greybor..? he said in a croaky voice with a hint of knowing. "I heard of that name.. but my minds a little hazy. Tell you what you help me out and ill tell you what I know." Solland nodded in agreement. "Ive got my self some undesirables extorting me for my hard earned coin. Four men, quite dangerous. They usually hang around the ally next to the second furthest warehouse on the peer. They are boastful with their connections so if you can put an end to them, ill tell you what I can about this Greybor.". Solland nodded in understanding and walked out of the tavern in earnest. Keeping one arm on his blade, he made his way to the location of the extorting thugs.

[Solland Volk]

The dimming orb that was the sun had just started to begin its decent in the slightly cloud covered sky, the air began to grow colder than it already was, foreshadowing the coldness of the night. This was the time when everyone in the city began to close up for the day and make their way back to whatever shelter they could find. Beggars and urchins on the other hand had another hard night of trying to survive, not just the cold but the thugs and murderers that this city seemed to hide. Trudging his way down to the end of the peer where the barkeep said his blackmailers where, Solland kept his wits about him. Most who saw him scanned the entire length of his body and looked on curiously at the tall, green clothed, metal cladded man that had just walked past them. There was some queer folk in the world but none so that had to be covered head to toe in metal and cloth. Slowing his pace as he entered the ally, he noticed the four men that the barmen had spoke of, laughing and jesting. One of them was bald wearing a dirty tunic, breeches and boots with a blemished blade at his side, the others seemed to be even more ill equipped wearing rags and wielding hardwood clubs. No one else seemed to be in the alley except himself and the four men. This must of been their perceived territory and would terrorise anyone that dared walk down their grimy, cobbled street. Quietly unsheathing his blade, Solland calmly approached the men, inevitably drawing their attention as his armour pieces clanked off one another. "Seems like some fool has walked down our turf lads.. the bald man said in a thuggish tone. He must of been the leader of this lot of filth as he had the sword as well as the better clothing. "He's got some nice armour on him.. and look at this! the thug leader said with a gloating voice. "Hes got a nice sword! I could be doing with a new blade because this one is getting a bit dirty! Bring me that sword boys." he commanded the other three. The three other men lifted up their clubs, rushing at Solland with gleeful laughter. The alley way was narrow so their was only enough room for one at a time to face the Masked Warrior. The first of the thugs threw a powerful overhead strike without any technique or finesse. Stepping back from the blow, Solland retaliated by quickly, sticking his blade deep into the firsts chest. Blood poured out of his enemy as he pulled his blade free from the thugs flesh. The second thug more weary after seeing his comrade fall to the ground in a gore of blood, edged his way forward throwing small blows left and right. Knocks of wood gave way as the second thug missed each strike only to hit the hard, dirty stone of the ground and walls to his left and right. Solland lashed out with a powerful vertical swing that the thug was too slow to react against causing the blade to slice deep into the ruffians head, putting his foot on the now dead bandit, Solland again pulled free his blade. These two that he had just executed had little technique and were not trained fighters, they were little more than clumsy thugs who thought that strength alone was the best force in a battle. They were both wrong. The third of the three seemed to backtrack his footsteps as Solland continued forward with the still warm blood of the last two fools that entered into combat with him on his sharp blade. "Flee now and Ill let you live!" Solland said with a firm, powerful voice. With the offer on the table the third thug dropped his weapon and ran, almost tripping him self up in the process. Running up to the bald leader before he could unsheathe his neglected blade, Solland grabbed him by the throat and placed his sword between the hooligans legs. "Most people are too concerned with their head and neck that they forget whats down below!" Solland said in a loud, totalitarian voice. "Now this blade is very sharp as you can see." he glanced towards the two dead men on the ground that still had blood coming out of their wounds. "I could shave a spiders ass if I wanted too" he began to squeeze the bald mans neck. "If I even hear whispers of a bald man around the Drunken Fish, it wont be a spiders ass ill be shaving, it'll be yours! Do you understand?!" the bald man nodded. Solland grabbed the ruffians head and slammed it into the concrete wall that was behind him, knocking him unconscious. Solland knelt down and wiped his bloodied blade upon the bald mans tunic and then sheathed his blade. Looking up to the darkening sky, Solland took a deep breath through his nostrils. The air smelt damp and metallic due to the blood that seeped into the spaces of the cobblestone that made up the alley floor. Solland started to walk back to the Drunken Fish, he upheld his part now to see if the barkeep would uphold his.

[Solland Volk]

Solland entered back into the neglected tavern where he agreed to help the barman put an end to the extortion that the bald man had been accused of doing. The area seemed more busy since he left. A large variety of people busily went about their social circles, laughing, jesting and brawling. The men from the docks and ships had finished their job for the day and came to spend their earnings on the ale that would make their existence in this city a tad more bearable. The women on the other hand were either slave girl bar maidens subject to reckless taunts and cruel abuse by the rowdy patrons or attractive prostitutes trying their hardest to seduce who ever they could. One of two of the women who were trying to sell theirselves even glimpsed at Solland but no amount of pretty looks and lustful wantings would get Solland to reveal himself. Solland slowly walked up to the bar, carefully weaving in and out of the drunk patrons. "I do not think they will be bothering you again." Solland's voice was coinfident and self assured. The barman looked at him with his round green eyes, curious about the man behind the metal mask. A genuine smile crept on his bearded face and finally after a long pause he spoke. "It is done then?" He gave out a large sigh of relief as he ran his hand through his long, unkempt hair. "They have been a huge thorn in my side for weeks! What can you expect though from this wretched place.. It seemed that a weight had been lifted from the barman's shoulders, weeks of being threatened with death and bludgeoned on a regular basis would have given this man considerable stress, not to mention the amount of coin that must of been stolen. The barman stretched his long arms, bent over and began to whisper. "What I can tell is not much, but hopefully it will lead you to the right path." Solland leaned closer, tilting his head to the side so he could hear every detail that came out of the barman's bearded mouth. "I heard and seen someone mention the name Greybor, maybe around two weeks ago. Right there in the corner." he gave a chesty cough, glanced and nodded at the further most corner and then continued. "He was a grizzled old bastard, roughed faced with white hair and he wore a strange silver ring on his left hand with a red gemstone set in its crest.". he said inconspicuously while lifting up his hand and pointing to his middle finger. "Lastly, he was raving about the Blood Pits. Mostly drunken ramblings I thought but I have a feeling if you search there you will find more.". The barman turned around and a retrieved a dust covered bottle from a chipped, tacky old cupboard that was built deep into the wall. "For your trouble." the barman said in a sincere voice of genuine thankfulness. Solland reached out with his armoured hand and took the bottle, he then nodded with respect and headed back upstairs to his room on the third floor. Sitting on the straw bed, he examined the bottle closer. The glass that gave the bottle its unusual curved shape was of a green colour not unlike his cloak. It had a thin layer of dust covering the rectangular label on its front. After wiping the dust off, Solland peered with his eyes and read the black writing. -Mamicallo Canraquat- -Finest Quality Oxstoneberry Wine- -Pressed, Filtered and Bottled in Lhavit by The Mamicallo Brothers- -Bottled 467 AV- He pulled out the hard cork that covered the bottles mouth and inhaled deep with his nose. The smell lingered in his nostrils, it had a earth like, citrus smell, he wasn't to fond of wines but he knew that the age of the wine was important. An appreciated gift. Placing the wine carefully in his bag, he started to undress, almost exactly the way he did earlier. It was dark and the bright moon started its climb into the heavens. There was no sense in wondering the streets at this time looking for more clues on Greybor's whereabouts. Night time was when the true scum of the city slithered out of their holes to cause terror to the populace, it was more logical and safer to wait till morning. Locking the dirty, old wooded door, Solland rested his head on the large feathered pillow and closed his eyes, keeping his sword in hand. Tomorrow he would follow the trail.