Solo Memories of Murder

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

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Memories of Murder

Postby Faylon Kwanda on July 13th, 2018, 7:06 pm

Sunberth; Outskirts of the Tent City
43rd of Summer, 518AV

This was not Zeltiva. The smell of unwashed bodies came from every direction as did the sounds of the downtrodden, the meek and the unwanted. Beggars, all of them. There was no breeze carrying the smell of the sea off the bay here nor was there the chill of the Bonesnapper biting deep down to the bone. This was Sunberth and the only thing that the wind carried as it blew through the Tent City was the smell of the unclean. Rotting clothing, sweat, urine. All that sort of thing. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd bathed. His hair usually short and close cropped was longer now and hanging down past his brow, his face usually clean shaven sported an unkept beard and his clothing clung to his form via sweat and grime. How long had he been here?

Since arriving in Sunberth Faylon Kwanda had lost count of the days. He'd run away from Zeltiva to escape murder having killed several men there. He may have done his share of good in the city too but he knew he couldn't stay. Sooner or later the darkness of his soul would have come out. Sunberth offered him a fresh start but instead of taking advantage of it he'd squandered away at least a year amongst the wretches of the city. Faylon was not one of their own though, he'd hadn't been since the first day he arrived and while he was accepted he was still given a wide berth in many cases. Maybe it had been the leather armor he'd worn when he arrived or the longsword he'd carried with him. The Leather Armor had since been buried, out of sight and out of mind; the Longsword he often kept wrapped in tattered pieces of cloth which he sometimes carried with him or left in the area he slept in, a small lean-to that was barely more than a bunch of sticks packed together and covered with grass and dirt.

--------------------------------

On this day in particular when Faylon's eyes cracked open slowly it was because the sounds of voices had awoken him. He'd heard them in his slumber but his mind couldn't ignore them and he was roused from whatever peace had been granted by a prolonged sleep. Laying there on his side he'd have opened his eyes wide enough to see a group of three men accosting a beggar dressed in shabby clothes with barely a coin to her name, she was dirty and dressed in rags but for whatever reason the men, the Thugs had singled her out.

They poked at her. Jeering and taunting [Come on honey show us your tits.] [Don't be shy missy we're just like you.] [You hungry? I've got something for you to eat.] It went on and on. This sort of thing wasn't entirely uncommon but it didn't happen around Faylon's lean to regularly.

Laying there Faylon just watched as the Thugs accosted the Beggar Woman, saying nothing. Observing from where he lay beneath his lean-to. Looking like the wretch that he did he was easy to ignore which meant as long as he did nothing he was easy to miss, easy for others to pass over. Faylon could have laid there forever but the problem was he couldn't back to sleep with all the noise that the Thugs were making. The jokes were awful and clumsy and their voices carried on. If they'd been in a central part of the Tent City others might have barked at them to stop but here, on the outskirts there was no one.

He laid there, watching the men push the woman back and forth between them, just watching until he couldn't watch anymore. Stirring from where he laid Faylon would lift a hand and wipe his face slowly then clear his throat. At first no one heard him so he cleared it again then one of the Thugs turned towards him, noticing him at last [The fuck do you want?]...

"Well you see I'm just trying to sleep away another year of my life and forget the past, forget everything really. Do you think the three of you could do this somewhere else?"

...the Thug only laughed a bit then waved his hand [Piss of you old drunk or we'll turn it on you instead.] Faylon closed his eyes, the Thug turned away but something stirred in him then and placing a hand underneath himself Faylon started to push himself up off the ground...
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Faylon Kwanda
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Memories of Murder

Postby Faylon Kwanda on July 13th, 2018, 7:30 pm

The Thugs had already forgotten about him. Why wouldn't they? He looked the part of a wretch. He looked like he was less than a beggar. Whatever Faylon Kwanda had appeared to be at one time he appeared to be something completely different now. He would have been equally happy to lay there, beneath his lean-to for the rest of the day as well but something had jolted him, something had awakened in him again. It wasn't what the Thug had said to him nor how he and his fellows were accosting the Beggar Woman it may been the general lack of respect they showed. It may have been that they didn't understand whom they had been speaking to.

As he pushed to his feet Faylon rose slowly, getting a hand underneath himself was only half the battle but rising up onto his feet revealed a whole other of aches and pains. How long had been laying there? Days maybe, he didn't remember.

Coming up to his feet Faylon reached for the mass of tattered rags and old cloth that had been laying next to him, directly behind him and out of sight. Reaching into the mass of tattered cloth Faylon's hand tightened around the hilt it had discovered. Shrugging the Longsword free of its confines he noted how at home it felt in his hand, the weight was familiar to him and holding the sword flashes of past moments came to life in the back of his mind. He remembered planting the steel in men, remembered the blood that accompanied killing blows and remembered the rush that flowed through his limbs as he delivered them.

The Thugs were busy tormenting the Beggar Woman who screamed at them. They pushed her around between them laughing, prodding at her without concern, treating her less than human and more like a plaything. None of them noticed Faylon had come to his feet or shrugged off the tattered cloth he'd used to conceal the longsword. None of them even gave him a second thought. Who would suspect something like him to be anything other than what he appeared to be.

As the Thugs pushed the woman between them there came a moment when one of them noticed she wasn't looking at them anymore, she was looking behind them. One of the men turned to look back behind himself, his eyes widened as he peered back over his shoulder and a scream caught in his throat.

Gripping the longsword in both hands, right over left Faylon hand advanced, raising the sword higher as he approached then as the first man turned around to look at him, his eyes wide with both surprise and terror Faylon had swung the sword in a wide arc from his right over to his left where it would pass behind his shoulder while he rolled his arms cohesion with the momentum of the blow. The Longsword caught the Thug just beneath the head, a heavy hacking blow that severed his head from his torso completely, decapitating him. The crimson spray of blood that accompanied such a blow stretched out, painting itself across the Beggar Woman, who screamed and ran now that her assailants were distracted and the remaining Thugs who blinked momentarily before the realization fully hit them.

[You son of a bitch!} one called out [You're a dead man!] before reaching for a short sword who kept on his belt. [Jeff? Jeff? Oh what the hell!?] called the other who was in obvious shock over what had just happened. Clearly what he'd just witnessed was affecting him more than it had the other man.

After delivering the sweeping blow of the sword that left one man dead Faylon had lurched forward slightly and taken a deep breath. He hadn't swung his sword in a long time no matter how right it felt. Hearing the outrage of one of the remaining Thugs however he'd right himself and prepare for combat.
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Memories of Murder

Postby Faylon Kwanda on July 13th, 2018, 7:50 pm

Faylon straightened to meet the attack of the Thug who'd drawn a sword. The Thug charged with murderous intent on his mind. The other Thug stood there, calling out and still unable to rationalize what just happened. On the ground the corpse of the dead man spewed blood from the stump of his neck where his head had once sat. It was grisly scene. Not something anyone just wanted to happened upon. In the distance the cries of the Beggar Woman had started to fade, Faylon barely heard them and he ignored the voice in the back of his head that told him he should leave quickly now that he'd drawn attention to himself.

As the Thug charged Faylon brought his longsword around to meet the shorter weapon of his attacker but he found his limbs were a bit heavier than they had been after that first stroke. Adrenaline seemed to be short lived in this case and the sword was heavy in his hands again, muscle memory would come back to him but not immediately. A Longsword, driven by a strong pair of arms should be able to power through the guard of a shorter weapon but not in this case. In this case steel met steel and Faylon felt like his arms were starting to shake a bit. He slid his right foot back as the swords tangled with one another, transitioned his weight onto what became his lead left foot and used it to pivot inwards so that he could use the clash of steel as leverage and throw the Thug off of him and away.

The Thug was sent stumbling, falling over his own feet as he went barreling in the direction of the lean-to. Without being able to stop himself he went crashing through the sticks that had been tied together to make the shelter.

"Shit!"

Faylon had yelled, seemingly more disappointed that the Thug had crashed through his shelter and destroyed it in the process than pleased that during the move he had ripped the Thugs sword free of his grip and sent it flying away.

"You idiot. That was my home! I lived there!"


The anger Faylon felt just then seemed unnatural and it was only counteracted when his peripherals caught sight of the man that had been approaching him from behind. The other Thug had been coming closer, trying to come within range to attack Faylon unaware but was caught by his gaze before he could come within arms reach. As his eyes set upon the man, meeting his gaze momentarily Faylon's irises would flash with what appeared to be a golden light that radiated out of them accompanied by the anger he felt now.

"Fuck off!"

He hadn't practiced much Hypnotism since he'd left Zeltiva so what occurred seemed more like it was driven by the emotions he felt in the moment. The anger that his lean-to, his home had been destroyed and that here he was, hands covered in blood again when all he wanted to do was sleep the rest of the day, the rest of the season away. Radiating out from Faylon the emotions that the energy he created would spark struck the man who'd been coming closer to him with fear, the type of fear that caused the fight or flight response to react and the man chose flight. Turning and running away as quickly as his legs could carry him.

Faylon turned to look back ahead of himself when a sharp pain exploded across the outside of his jaw, he stumbled and his longsword dropped from his grasp.
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Memories of Murder

Postby Faylon Kwanda on July 13th, 2018, 8:15 pm

The blow to the jaw had sent a stinging pain that spread across Faylon quickly leaving a dull pulsing pain in its place as it faded away. The Longsword had fallen from Faylon's grasp and looking ahead while he reached up he'd have rubbed the side of his jaw with his right hand, running his fingers through the matted beard he kept while regarding the Thug who was preparing to come at him again.

"You should have stuck with the sword. Then you'd have had a chance."

The comment seemed to make the Thug angrier as he came at Faylon with fists clenched [We'll see if you think the same after you head is caved in!] but Faylon was already prepared. Lifting his arms his legs spread to shoudler width apart and he stepped forward to meet the man who charged at him wildly, he was a brawler without any formal training but Faylon was a boxer.

As they came within reach of one another Faylon's arms rose to cover his face, the Thug threw a hard haymaker at him but it impacted his forearms. It hurt but less than taking a blow to the side of the head. Then Faylon responded by pushing back off his lead right foot to open the distance between them again, the Thug started to respond by closing but Faylon lead with his jab. The Jab from his right arm was crisp, clean it moved in and out without overextending itself and popped the Thug in the face once. Another jab followed, a quick one-two combination that caused the Thug to back up a pace and blink. Faylon smirked, he was starting to enjoy this again.

The Thug wiped his mouth, growled and came back at Faylon.

A rapid succession of wild punches ensued. Faylon backed off, bobbing right to left so that he could avoid the blows then he saw his opening. The Thug committed to a heavy right and Faylon responded by dipped to his left, the motion moved him inches at best but changed the angle of the blow just enough that it passed over Faylon's right shoulder. Boxer's called this a slip.

When the Thug's arm passed over Faylon's shoulder his right side was open to him and jerking to his right briefly Faylon would twist at the waist, torque his hips slightly and deliver crushing left hook to the body that dropped the Thug in his tracks and left him heaving for breath as the air left his lungs. The force of the blow was enough that it carried on past the initial impact to touch him deep inside his body. A Boxer trained to absorb blows like this but a common brawler would be left worse off.

The Thug feel down onto a knee, gasping for breath in the process before looking up at Faylon with disbelief in his eyes [Who the hell are you?] he'd ask as he struggled down on his knees. The Wretch that Faylon had let himself appear to be seemed to melt away just a little bit then, his appearance hadn't changed but his bearing did to some extent...

"Someone you should have listened to. You've got yourself killed."

...the Thug had forced himself back up to his feet by then and he came charging at Faylon in desperation, the toll the heavy blow had taken on him evident. Throwing sloppy punches Faylon leaned backwards out of range, circling to the right as he did so to offset himself with the Thug then when he saw his opening Faylon would lean forward, under his opponents guard and come up with a vicious uppercut that snapped the Thugs head backwards and sent him dropping to the ground. It was over.

Standing over his opponent Faylon regarded him briefly with the tip of his head then placed his foot on the mans skull. He almost pressed down, he almost delivered the coup de grace but a voice in the back of his head reminding him of all the bloodshed caused him to hesitate. He hesitated long enough to lift his head when he heard voices coming from his direction. Shaking his head he only spared the Thug a final glance, the denizens of the Tent City could have him and turning Faylon would retrieve his Longsword, picking it up from where it had fallen before moving out of the area, disappearing into his surroundings.
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Faylon Kwanda
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Memories of Murder

Postby Kynier on July 28th, 2018, 11:20 pm

Grades!


Skill Rewards
  • Boxing +1
    Detection +1
    Disguise +1
    Endurance +1
    Intimidation +1
    Negotiation +1
    Observation +4
    Weapon: Longsword +1

Lores Learned
  • Sunberth: Full of filth
    Location: Tent City
    Disguise: Looking like a wretch
    Boxing: Performing a Slip
    Boxing: Torqueing the hips to power a hook

Penalties
  • Fight or Flight: For 8 days Faylon will be more inclined to run away from a confrontation rather than confront it.

Other Notes
Hypnotism-No experience was rewarded for a few of reasons. First, no mentioning of drawing on djed to power the spell was made. Second, Emotional Surge is a use of Hypnotism above the abilities of a Novice Hypnotist. Third, no indications of overgiving were made for using a discipline above your character's abilities.

Sunbirth and Mages- At the first sign of magic a person unsympathetic to magic will cry out "Mage!" to form an instant lynch mob. Be more mindful of using obvious magic against multiple people.

CS Issues- The formatting for character sheets has changed. If you're going to sort your skills by numeric value they should be categorized into Novice, Competent, Expert, and Master then listed alphabetically.

If you have an questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to PM me.
Sometimes the only way to win is by relinquishing a superior position.

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