Closed A Night Down East Street

Can lead to sinister activites. [Dale Ivory]

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

A Night Down East Street

Postby Ricky Maze on January 28th, 2014, 8:09 am

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A Night Down East Street
Winter 4th 513 AV, 20th Bell
Location: East Street

Deep in the dark alleyways of East Street crawled the rats and vermin that plagued the city at night, the worst of them tucked within the shadows as they waited to reach out and claim their victims. Tonight though they would have much to fear as the Wave Guard patrolled the streets, their intent met difficulties with exectution as any operation such cruel and sinister individual may have; and tonight it was left to no other than Ricky Maze and that of another Wave Guard to patrol the street. As regulation demanded their patrol routes be done in pairs during nights, Ricky found that his partner tonight was rather quiet and much like him. Agreeable in going it alone... well sort of. They weren't necessarily alone from one another as Macki patrolled one section of the street, and Ricky of course patrolled the other without question.

It was a simple idea of ground coverage since they worked together, the more ground the two covered the more secure their route was. When one needed backup then the other only needed to call out their name, henceforth the plan was decent in all form. With the sounds of a few drunken louts leaving the house full of escorts that earned the name of Loveless, Ricky made sure to keep a close eye on them as he walked past them and the building itself. Sailors. Drunken ones no doubt finished having "fun" with their choice in fetishes, of course most sailors only wanted to find an escort to sait their appetite for flesh after being off shore for so long. No harm done so far by the looks of it, no bouncers seem to be giving trouble with the patrons as they left the building. Alls well that ends well as Ricky would say, thus he continued onward down the street. Unaware that these drunken louts may soon cause trouble.

Trouble that would descend upon a stranger out in the freezing cold night.
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Ricky Maze
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A Night Down East Street

Postby Dale Ivory on January 29th, 2014, 5:46 am

Dale watched his breath puff out in clouds, floating up the mossy ally walls and dissipating before they could cross paths with the shingled roofs. The night was cold, colder than a number of others in more recent days, the winds off the ocean providing little safety from the chill. As such, he’d chosen to walk the alleys that night on his way home, the buildings providing a shield from the winds less common on the open streets. His arms wrapped around his gut protectively, trying to contain as much warmth as he could while keeping his dagger in easy reach, the ivory hilt bumping up against his knuckles and giving his a sense of protection. He had no idea how to use the weapon, hadn’t drawn it once since purchasing it, but it still helped him to feel safe.

As he got closer to the main streets he could hear the drunken laughter of men, likely exiting the most popular building on East Street, the Loveless. Dale made a face of mild disgust to himself, thinking such a vulgar use of another’s body beneath him despite his poor status. His mother had taught him to recognize all people as just that, people, regardless of their profession, and using women as pleasure objects was simply something that made him feel uncomfortable and dirty.

”Oy! Streetrat” The call shook Dale from his thoughts, and it took more than a moment to realize that he was the one being addressed. There were three of them, one that seemed ready to tip at any moment though the other two seemed relatively stable, a swagger in their step. “Yeah, you! Come here!”

”E-excuse me, boys. I’m just trying to get home,” he stuttered, suddenly nervous about the situation. He could run, but he’d spotted a man on his way here that had a mad look in his eye, and wasn’t too keen on learning his name or intentions. Sailors were known to be volatile, especially when drunk, but Dale was determined to reason with the men and get home.

“It’s cold,” the droopy one muttered, and the bulkiest of the three elbowed him in the gut before agreeing.

“Yeah, it’s cold. And that’s a mighty fine lookin’ coat you have there. Mind if I borrow it, streetrat?”

Dale had only purchased the coat two days before, and had only picked it up from the tailors this morning, and was much less than willing to give up such an expensive winter necessity to anyone who demanded it. Conjuring up illusory tenacity, he walked forward, trying his best to look big and sound stern. ”Now listen here, you-“

The fist slammed into his jaw like a warhammer, sending the stunned boys body on a collision course with the alleys stone wall, a yelp escaping his lips as his head smacked against blunt stone. He tumbled to the ground, ears ringing and stars in his vision, something warm and wet trickling down the back of his neck. Why can’t I just go home? his dazzled mind asked him as one of the sailors planted a foot in his gut, driving the wind from him.
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Dale Ivory
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A Night Down East Street

Postby Ricky Maze on January 29th, 2014, 7:21 am

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Damn this blasted cold. Winter was by far one of his least favorite seasons of the year, then again without it he wouldn't be able to withstand freezing tempatures elsewhere now would he? "Always a brighter side in t'ings." He reminded himself as he thought about how nice it'd feel elsewhere, believe it or not he could probably wear a shirt and deem it fine while others froze. That was only a daydream though as his eyes searched out the alleyway nearby, nothing seemed to wait within its dark recesses so far. Without further ado the guard decided to move onward while he was lost in further thought, ideas of a warm home with a warm bed, and of course a warm wife to be with; they all brought on the desire to be out of this place, to be done with his shift and head back to his family and call it a day.

Yet when he stepped forward to cover more of his route, his gut put him at a stop as he felt something. Some sort of need he had to heed, some desire other than for warmth called out to him... and it begged for him to turn around just now. With a bit of caution Ricky turned in the opposite direction he was headed, and allowed his eyes to file down the corners that led into the alleyways. Each one he passed looked to be peaceful and empty last he checked, but there was something he felt he just couldn't determine off hand. A demand to check his footsteps once more came to mind as the cold air began to fill more frigid, the hairs on his neck stood at end as chills brought internal shivers up his spine. Danger had to be afoot somewhere. "Macki?!" His thoughts went to the partner that had to be nearby, was he in trouble by some small chance? Did danger make itself known to the companion on watch?

He had to have answers, he had to be sure! To hell with it all, Ricky gave in to his instinct. He started off down the street and came close to approaching Loveless, until at last the sounds of cheers and revelry began to fill his ears. In the alley, not far from where the house of whores resided. Thats where the location of the sounds danced from, thats where Ricky felt the need to be at this present moment. The cheers, the laughter, and the suggestion of an onhand unfair fight... Someone was in a lot of trouble, and Ricky had not a moment to lose in lending aid. "Bloody petchers ain't gonna 'ave t'eir damn way t'night!" He refused to allow such an act to go unnoticed, in fact he would see these sailors receive their just reward.

Yes he knew it had to be them, the obnoxious rabble definitely didn't care they were being heard. They will though, oh they definitely will. Ricky came around the corner of the street and into the alley, no hesitation as he felt the cold no longer affect his body. His blood boiled swiftly and his face flushed into a deep red, eyes filled with bitter scorn at how low these men have gone tonight. There was a haze over his mind as Ricky approached the men, without warning even, as they spared no mind to the thought of anothers appearance. With poor lighting they probably had no clue he was a Wave Guard as well, all the same Ricky's actions were well justified when he came near the group. Hellbent on rescuing the poor victim of their crime, Ricky grabbled the shoulder of the nearest man while he and the other two laughed.

They may have enjoyed watching the beating this helpless person had to endure, but hopefully now with the sight of another to join in on the fray there would be hope. Hope that he would be safe again, hope that he'd find peace after this was over. In his merrily confusion the sailor that had his shoulder grabbed twisted around loosely to see Ricky behind him, only to find that the very much angered fisherman shot his right fist into his face. There wasn't relent, there wasn't even regret. As much as Ricky hated to induce harm onto other people, those who did just that earned what they give. His mind right now failed to be his own, all he could think about was what the poor person on the ground felt now. All he could see was a haze as the world seem to move, right now nothing could really connect until his mind no longer felt empowered by anger.

The sailor he slugged twisted around from the force of the punch, and fell to the ground since he failed to keep his footing. The other one was next and in line of sight for Ricky, but of course he and the sailor that did the hurting knew they weren't alone by now. They also didn't take kindly to the fact their buddy was down on the ground, thus with a numb body and a high temper Ricky felt ready to let loose in this event. He'd help this poor soul out and see he got home just fine, and he'd sleep better tonight knowing he took this proper course of action.
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Ricky Maze
"Bottom's up!"
 
Posts: 2397
Words: 2035002
Joined roleplay: March 30th, 2011, 9:02 pm
Location: Nyka -> Wildlands -> Syliras
Race: Human, Mixed
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Medals: 7
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Postby Dale Ivory on February 1st, 2014, 9:11 am

As the foot slammed into his stomach once more, Dale was glad he had made a habit of wearing his quilted armor beneath his coat, both for protection and warmth. He felt no ribs breaking as the feet impacted him again and again, no sharp throbbing pains deep inside his torso where they should not be. No, he would awaken tomorrow with many a bruise and perhaps a scar or two to tell tales about. Assuming he made it through the night.

A wet thumping noise pierced the sounds of laughter and mocking, and Dale opened his eyes ever so slightly to see the drowsy drunk collapse to the ground, several of his teeth smashed inwards, blood pooling around his face in the muck. The beatings stopped, if only for a moment, allowing Dale to glance up at whoever had done the deed on the sleepy sailor. The torches and candles of the streetlamps bathed the hulk of a man in light, a shadow cascading over his earthly features and portraying his as some inhuman beast out of legend. His attackers turned on his shadow-cloaked savior, the one closest throwing a slow, stumbling hook punch at the shadows face.

Thinking quickly as the man closest to him prepared to back up his furious friend, Dale drew his dagger and slashed wildly at the leg before him, feeling the cold blade bite into flesh. His face was splashed with blood, dashing his eyes and blinding him. His vision was a world of red, his ears ringing from the terror as the man fell beside him, his hamstrings severed. He could feel his head pounding with adrenaline, but he could not see to put it to use in the fight. He continued to slash blindly, hoping to catch another lucky shot to save his savior some work. All the while he tried to blink away the blood, blood that quickly made way for furious and fearful tears.
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A Night Down East Street

Postby Ricky Maze on February 4th, 2014, 12:02 am

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Yes. Yes this felt good, the chance to release his stress. To allow his pent up anger out, and on a few drunken sailors who deserved it no less. This is it for him then, this is the moment he needed to let it go. Quick to react for his fallen comrade the second sailor slugged Ricky hard on the left side of his face, the world in a blur as his head rang aloud throughout his hollowed mind. The anger and the adrenaline had settled in and even if things seemed to move all the more faster than before, the pain he would've felt had been dulled a little as he fought back against the bastard that assaulted him. Ricky's mind raced with no end faster than the steed that ran the wilderness with ease, the outer layer of his skin felt cold but deep down he felt on fire. The only thing he could notice was that his right hand felt wet, wet with blood that trickled down from his knuckles as he felt a strange sensation there.

As the fisherman retaliated in his black out he staggered back with another right clenched fist, and sent it forth to smash into the shoulder of the sailor that took him on. Both were men, both were angry, however one was only drunk while the other.... well he was drunk on rage but that didn't count. Not when it sort of helped the performance, but of course alcohol could very well do the same... At any rate Ricky's fist sailed into the sailor's left shoulder with a hard smack as the man grunted, able to take the punch and shove Ricky back away to create an opening. Ricky staggered back from the force and barely managed to hold his footing as he felt a tingly prickly sort of sensation all within his right hand, he knew all to well what the sensation was because he felt it before. It was his old injury from the night he killed the pirate that gutted his dog in cold blood, the remnants of a fractured hand flared once again as he fought with the sailor.

It had to have been the first punch to begin with, with such a harsh blow straight to the face there was no doubt about it. Ricky had to put everything he had into this though, and even if the adrenaline numbed his pain somewhat he still felt some sharp sensations; in his right hand as well as the left side of his face. He couldn't let that stop him though, not when the sailor sent a foot forward to try and kick him down. Able to withstand and overlook the spots that hurt he grabbed the ankle of the man as the foot barely planted into his torso, the drunk now unable to hold his weight as the sudden shift balance sent him onto his back. That was when the sailor that did the kicking bellowed in pain as he twisted around to look at the victim, who had taken a dagger he kept hidden away and nicked the man in the back of the lower leg. Then along came Macki after he no doubt heard the fight taking place nearby, and without the chance to question what had yet happened he immediately jumped to Ricky's aid.

The sailor Ricky had put on the ground had struggled to his feet while the fisherman dragged the injured kicker away from the man on the ground, and with a roar he charged forth like the angered ox he was to get even with Ricky. Yet Macki joining in the fray led to the ability to gain control over the scene as there were two Wave Guards now, and Ricky already held one against the wall now that he'd been addled with a leg injury. "In'ne name o' the Wave Guard, stop yer damn senseless act o' violence!" Ricky finally shouted harshly as his chest heaved repeatedly, the short breaths he took and released a white puff of moisture as he looked over his shoulder to Macki. His partner had managed to tackle the assailant that aimed for Ricky, and pinned him against the wall opposite from Ricky as both sailors started to cease their need for struggle. They knew they were in trouble now, and they weren't about to break any more laws tonight.

All this trouble just to pick on a lone stranger, and now they would have to spend a night within the Head Quarters jail room. As his mind finally started to settle Ricky looked down at the ground where the victim laid down, a blood splurt covered his forehead area from what the fisherman could see in the darkness. With what little light there was he looked down at the man with an aching head and hand, confident that no further problems would concern him tonight since the Wave Guard was here. "It's al'right now mate, yer in safe hands I promise." he assured him with a bit of a shove to the sailor he pinned against the wall, the point proven to both parties as he and Macki started to assess the situation. A bit of a bruised spot on the left cheekbone of his face and a fiery sort of pain in his right hand, he had to take into account his luck with this short scrap that occured. Many could easily wind up with broken limbs or worse, yet the only major injury was where his old fracture was... which honestly hurt like hell now that he felt a bit calmer.
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Credit goes to Fallon for allowing me to temper with her codings! :)
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Ricky Maze
"Bottom's up!"
 
Posts: 2397
Words: 2035002
Joined roleplay: March 30th, 2011, 9:02 pm
Location: Nyka -> Wildlands -> Syliras
Race: Human, Mixed
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 7
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
One Thousand Posts! (1) One Million Words! (1)
Extreme Scrapbooker (1) 2014 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)
2012 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

A Night Down East Street

Postby Eldritch on April 13th, 2014, 1:28 am

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Ricky :
Skills
Unarmed Combat +2
Observation +1

Lores
-Intervening on a robbery


Dale :
If you return and update your CS send me a PM to receive your grade. :)



Notes :
Sorry to see the thread never finished, gave what I could. :)


If you have any comments/questions/concerns about your grade please PM me and we will work something out.

Keep on writing!
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