Completed One Foot In The Grave

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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One Foot In The Grave

Postby Erik Murphy on January 3rd, 2016, 7:25 am

23rd Bell - 92nd of Winter, AV 5151 - Tall Johnny's Casino

Erik couldn't decide what the worst thing about this night was. The amount of vomit had put forward strong case, as well as odour, while the noise was absolutely maddening and a sure shoo-in for second place. But probably the most infuriating the thing about this night was being stone cold sober and surrounded in every direction by exceptionally drunk morons.

It was the 92nd in Tall Johnny's casino and it was packed to the rafters. It happened every winter; surviving through a winter as harsh as this one is no small feat and while there wasn't even enough food to go around after such a brutal population cull, there would always be enough booze. On this night of all nights, every pub and tavern would be filled with drunken revellers that would leak out into the streets. The Slag Heap would no doubt be surrounded by music, booze and dancers as they all celebrated the New Year.

Erik had the misfortune of working on this night rather than getting drunk or simply being home with his family. Even on this day of the year people still had to work so that the rest had enough booze to fill their bellies and be told when they had had enough to drink. Erik didn't seen the point in him even being here, the casino had three times as many customers as usual, every single one of them that wasn't a thief was shitfaced and Tall Johnny had barely increased the number of guards. If the crowd turned, there'd be no way to stop it.

Didn't matter for now though; Tall Johnny had done his usual job of keeping the crowd placated and still excessive. Music filled the building, the cage never had a fight not going on and while there was a lack of guards, he had hired plenty of pretty waitresses to keep every tankard to full to the brim. But in this revelry Erik couldn't see anyone more than five feet in front of him, the crowds were simply too dense. No doubt the thieves of Sunberth would celebrate on the morrow.

As Erik meandered through the crowd, a hand tugged on him from behind. It belonged to the fight announcer. "You should be at your cages" Erik said, reminding him with a cocked eyebrow.
"We got a problem" The announcer replied as Erik got a familiar sense of Déjà vu
"Oh sod off. Look around you; we've got our hands full with problems 'ere" He quipped back, gesturing to half dozen sights of vomiting, defecating and urination in the casino he could see without trying "What's the problem now?"
"A bleedin' fighter backed out, I need you fill 'is place"
"Really?"
Erik asked rhetorically, his voice thick with disbelief "In this entire joint, you can't find one meat'ead to throw a punch? I've seen the fighters ol' Johhny's got in store; get one of those to fill in"
"Nah Erik, those boys are a special line up just for this evenin' . This is the last one before we start bringin' 'em out."
"Then cancel the fight, last one doesn't matter"


The announcer shook his head before staring down at him "Let me make this clear. Tall Johnny wants this fight to go ahead, he wants you to fight. You're going to fight."
Last edited by Erik Murphy on February 15th, 2018, 9:32 am, edited 4 times in total.
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“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
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One Foot In The Grave

Postby Erik Murphy on January 6th, 2016, 12:39 pm

The first punch to land was a brutal wake up call. A flash of pain erupted from Erik's skull as he was invigorated from the sharp, sudden contact of a fist strike against his jaw. For a moment everything around him slowed down; the heavy man pounding hairy chest in the crowd, his fat rippling as he screamed out for more violence; the bookmaker concealing a smug smirk as he bled his addicts dry of their hard earned coin; the scabbed, bleeding knuckles of his opponent's fist retreating back after a successful blow. He saw it all for a fleeting moment as the smell and sounds of the blood stained cage and the stifling air of the casino became all his mind could fathom as the beauty brutality of Sunberth came to life before him.

The second strike to his gut shattered his idyllic nightmare as he was sent sprawling back, his back smacking the jagged bars of the cage he was trapped in. He had only stepped the damning ring after having his wages threatened amongst other things, stripping down to trousers as he revealed a no doubt colourful tapestry of scars and tattoos that littered his torso. With a few colourful phrases spat at the fight announcer, in some futile attempt to reclaim his independence, he had surrendered to the pressure and stepped into the ring to face his opponent.

He was a brutal opponent to face. Twenty winters Erik's junior, was built like an Akinva Deerstalker with two thick arms, a broad chest and a thick neck that gave no indications of were his shoulder stopped and his head began. He was no doubt a few silver short of a Miza, his watery pig like eyes gave no sign of much thought and his fighting technique included little in the way of tactics or self-preservation; but his strength and aggressiveness countered this remarkable and judging by the way his squat yet crooked nose had been pounded into his skull multiple time, pain didn't matter to him. Only a fighter more skilled or far stronger than Erik would walk away with anything resembling a victory.

Self preservation, that was Erik's only option as far as he could tell, the fight would last as long as it was entertaining to blood hungry crowd and he planned on at least limping away from this fight. So when the brute followed up his first assault Erik managed to his haul his arms up to his face, his forearms shielding his more important body parts as the pain of blows resonated within his bones as he tried to manoeuvre around his cumbersome opponent but he would simply not stop his onslaught.

His arms quickly begun to numb from the unrelenting pain and while that may have been a relief to Erik it was in fact a mixed blessing as quickly punches began to slip through his defence and his torso was reminded of what his opponent could do inflict on Erik's internal organs. Erik risked a wild kick, the soles of his feet spraying up dirt as his toes sunk unnervingly deep into the brute's testicles.

It was a low blow that would leave a normal man at least temporarily crippled and requesting ground rules but instead his opponent was unfazed as Erik was subjected to his fiercest blow yet; a earth shattering forward punch that parted his raised arms and pounded dead straight into Erik's nose. He staggered back, crimson blood gushing from his nose as he felt the cold metal of the cage dig into his aching back.

"Yeah, kickin' 'im in the balls just gets 'im all riled up arsehole" The announcer quipped through the bars of the cage.
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“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
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One Foot In The Grave

Postby Erik Murphy on January 7th, 2016, 11:18 am

Erik gritted his teeth, taking a moment to mull over what he could to with his Kopis blades, a barrel of vinegar and ten minutes alone with the fight announcer, but before he could truly envision his sadistic fantasy he was brought to reality by a looming figure and incoming fist. Erik's knee collapsed as fast it could as a moment later he heard a sharp intake of breath and a dismissive grunt of pain from his simple opponent as his fist pounded into the cage behind him, rattling loudly and threaten to buckle from the impact.

Erik sidestepped quickly, he too few advantages in this fight but mobility was one of them, and as he pushed himself back up he barely felt his numb fingers grasped at the coarse, bloodstained sand beneath his as he took a handful of it. With little time to spare he let a quick right hook loose, swinging his entire weight behind the punch as it sunk into the man's side but it made little impact except to knock his opponent a little off balance. Erik was no boxer, he knew he was fighting for time, not to win.

Erik fell back to the other side of the cage as the brute hauled his cumbersome body around and began to close the gap between them as a clearly worried Erik raised his arms weakly as if they could still withstand another barrage of blows. He didn't feel long long for this world and judging by what few jeers from the audience he could even still make out, he must looked it. Blood was still gushing from his nose, pouring down his face as he tasted the metallic twang on his tongue. He could feel the pain throb relentlessly in his head that he could have sworn his brain was threatening to burst free from skull with each heartbeat as his vision blurred ever so slightly around the edges of his sight.

With the crowd at his back, cheering on his opponent, Erik watch as he lumbered towards him but before he could punching distance Erik lunged forward. He released the sand that was still mostly clenched in his left fist, the grains billowed out before coating the brute's watery eyes. A smarter opponent would have seen the sand leaking from between the gaps in between his finger; fortunately the one muscle this man lacked was between his ears.

He cried out in pain and surprise, as any man would if they suddenly found themselves with a hundred jagged blades in their eyes, and so for a moment he stopped advancing and try desperately to wipe them from his eyes. Don't rub them, always makes it worse Erik quipped, in his mind at least, a recalled over a dozen incidents with his thick offspring.

While the crowd booed such a dirty move that was surely motivated by whom they bet on, Erik stepped forward quickly, closing the gap before sending a sharp shovel hook into the man's gut. It sunk it deeply, Erik could feel the muscles tense up as soon as his fist made contact but by then it was too late. Whether through pain or some involuntary reaction that was far beyond Erik's education his opponent doubled over, still distorted by the sand as Erik wrapped both his hand around the brute's thick neck and pulled it down with all the strength he could muster. From there he brought his knee up sharply, feeling the thick kneecap ram into his opponents nose with a distinct pleasure.

He might just win this fight after all.
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“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
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Erik Murphy
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One Foot In The Grave

Postby Erik Murphy on January 8th, 2016, 11:30 am

The optimist outcome quickly slipped from Erik's grasp though as the brute, not as dazed from the blow to his face as Erik had hoped wrapped both his thick arms around Erik's torso and lifted him up from the ground. Erik's fists pummelled his adversary's back but to no avail, they just bounced off uselessly as his legs thrashed beneath him, his toes desperately searching for any ground to cling to. The brute then began to step forward, slowly at first before building up momentum and before Erik realized it he felt his body slam into the bars of the cage once more.

His head whipped back violently, a crippling burst of pain erupted from his skull as the wind was slammed out of him as his foe's skull rammed into his gut. There wasn't even enough booze or adrenaline in Sunberth to either numb the pain or restore his self-awareness as he was the summarily thrown over the brute's shoulder, his arms flailing wildly as struck the ground head first before falling on gracelessly his back as a cloud of dust and sand billowed around his bloody body.

Erik let a feeble groan of pain slip from between his dry, cracked lips, using up what little air still remained in his weak lungs. Each breath he took hurt immensely, he could already picture the terrible medleys of blue, yellow and purple that would coat his body tomorrow morning; if even lived that long. He felt the shadow of the man loom over him as a knee descended on his chest, holding the weight of his enemy that felt like the whole world was being rested on his chest as it convulsed in pain. Pinned down and broken Erik hoped that the first punch would knock him out cold, he lifted his arms in a last ditch defence but as the first punch snapped his head to the side they quickly faltered.

What happened next was nothing less than unrelenting and brutal, punch after punch, he felt every one of them as the pain piled on and on till all he could feel was the assault on his skull. The blood that poured down his face, the cheers of the crowd, the sight of the brute's sore, red eyes that were a glow with animalistic anger; All of that started to fade as Erik wondered futilely if this fight wouldn't stop in time, if this was his legacy; just another dead brawler that would feed the fat fishes of Sunberth's river tonight.

Eventually the pain began to be nothing but a distant distraction, his face felt cold and dead, the brute left no part unharmed as Erik disregarded his swelling eyes, his broken nose, and the dislodged tooth flittering somewhere in his bloody filled mouth; he couldn't feel anything anymore, he didn't want to. A voice screamed out feebly in the distance, once thick with grandeur and the next time laced with worry. Erik couldn't tell if the fight was over, his eyes were so swollen and filled with tears, his brain so beaten, that he could no longer tell.

He felt a pair of rough hands reach out and grab his wrists before tugging his limp body across the grating ground of the cage.
"Is even alive? We've lost two fuckers already tonight"
"Nah, he's still breathin'. Erik? Can you 'ear us?"
"By the gods he looks bad, the cart's going out for a fresh delivery of booze from the Cider Mill. Think we should stick 'im on the back of it and send 'im down to The Clinic?"
"I've seen worse walk out of 'ere and there's no way that the driver is goin' the Den at this time of night"
"At his age, he's gonna need it. Besides, the Clinic's only the edge and I ain't the one that forced 'im to fight"
"Fine! You two, stick on 'im on the cart round back with his things, Tall Johnny's not gonna tolerate a half-dead bloody body in 'is Casino for long".


Erik's body was hauled up of the ground and slowly he brought through the bustling, dancing crowd that didn't even bother to pay more than a moment of their attention before going back to drinking their drinks and crudely charming the opposite sex. As they carried Erik out of the building, Erik felt the cold air surround and engulf his body, breathing a moment of life in the broken man. As he felt the rough wood of the cart scrap against his bleeding back that had been sliced by the jagged metal of the cage, he reach out blindly, his finger tips brushing one of the men who brought him out. "T-t-tell Johnny" He stuttered weakly with dark, crimson blood spluttering from between his yellow teeth "Tell 'im I fuckin' quit".

And with that, the horse was whipped into a trot and dragged him into the night until the jovial music that filled the Casino trailed into silence.
ImageImageImage
“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
User avatar
Erik Murphy
Player
 
Posts: 73
Words: 130410
Joined roleplay: December 12th, 2015, 12:38 am
Race: Human
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One Foot In The Grave

Postby Royal on January 30th, 2016, 3:58 pm

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Erik Murphy
Skills
Rhetoric +1
Leadership +1
Endurance +3
Intimidation +2
Bodybuilding +3
Philosophy +1
Unarmed Combat +3
Tactics +2
Acrobatics +2

Lores
Philosophy: Self Preservation is crucial
Unarmed Combat: A kick in the testes
Acrobatics: The side stepping dodge
Tactics: Blinding an opponent with sand
Unarmed Combat: The shovel hook
Memory: Quitting Tall Johnny’s

Other
Mild concussion that will last 48 bells
Various bruises that will heal in 4 days
A broken nose that will require treatment to heal properly
For the next 4 days, Erik will be incredibly sore and exhausted. Rest is needed!
Two broken ribs that will take 20 days to heal properly. In the meantime, Erik’s movements will be limited and painful.


Questions? Comments? Please don't hesitate to PM me!
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Royal
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