• PM To Join • Losing his Lunch Money

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• PM To Join • Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Vincent Krome » Mon Mar 19, 2018 10:42 pm

22nd Trial of Cylus Arc 718

He was seventeen, and hadn't even killed a man yet. Well past the age where they considered a man an adult, and hadn't won a single decisive victory. That was all going to change this season. Vin decided that he was going to lose his murderginity.

Although he'd left the life of privilege behind, he still couldn't shake those lingering vestiges of nobility. It was hard when a young man was as majestic as he was. Nobles bred themselves for war, ultimately. Their purpose was to kill and be the warrior guardian class of society. Vincent had been errant in his duties, to hone himself into a weapon.

But! All that was about to change this season, this very break. He decided to take unarmed brawling lessons a few trials past, roping in a few friends from the tavern. They strode into the circular clearing, in the large expanse in front of the University. A high blanket of snow was covering much of the front courtyard. Yet, there were several paths carved out with shovels. Adjoining these paths were fighting rings, dug out beside these footpaths, for the training.

He brought about four others with him this day, and it appeared they'd be alone with the instructor, Ennen Otad. The name sounded familiar, like someone his father had mentioned when he was a child? Some old name from the fighting pits, knowing dear old father's penchant for finding amusement.

Vin, or Jack as his friends knew him, stepped forward first. He was the most diminutive of his friends, standing at a slight 5'2". Yet, he always led the charge in every activity, with all the ferocity of a terrier. "Hey, Mister Otad is it?" He said in the working class accent he'd picked up from years of running around and carousing with these ilk. "So... should we!"

Before he could finish the sentence, Otad grabbed the young Krome. In one motion, he whipped him over his shoulder, sending him sliding across the snowy ground. Jack lay dazed for a moment, before jumping to his feet, and growling.

Ennen Otad lifted his hand as if to beckon the rest to try their luck. "Come on, boys. Think yer tough enough to tangle with old Ennen, eh?"

They all rushed him, Jack included. Within the space of a few moments, Jack got kicked down to the ground again, with a foot-sized bruise in his gut. The rest Ennen dispatched easily in a similar manner to the way he'd manhandled Jack.

They all laid on the ground, groaning in pain. Ennen stood over them, smiling with no small amount of sadism evident on his face.

"Get up, you lot. You're not paying me to watch you during naptime."
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Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Caius Gawyne » Fri Mar 23, 2018 3:22 pm

The taking of the guards by VII and the conflict that ensued had only served as a traumatizing reminder that nowhere was safe—not from VII and Pythera's hunting, not from mages and magic, and not from himself. Caius realized that there would come a time in his renewed life that he would be without a weapon, that he would have to eventually figure out how to defend himself with whatever was available, even if that meant his bare hands. He'd been away from Viden for well over an arc now, and while he'd spent some of his spare time learning the Videnese methods of combat which were, much to his liking, rather austere and internally-focused, he'd also come home to Rynmere instead of stayed.

Now that he wasn't dead, it was time he made effort to stay that way.

Despite his new life, however, the young Gawyne still existed on his own timeline. Perpetually late for most of his day to day affairs, to-trial was no exception, having hovered for too long in the library as usual, this time lingering over the list of banned and rescinded books for the third or forth time this season, desperate to learn the titles of magic theory books so that he could hunt a few down. While the Order of the Mantis wasn't lacking in educational opportunities to learn about the signs and detection methods for recognizing magic and mages, Caius was desperate to understand it all, and to do that, he was equally desperate to research. Of course, the books had all disappeared since Vhalar, but at least with the list, the Lord Arbiter could perhaps find ways of discovering other editions of the same tomes elsewhere in Idalos.

Once he realized he was late for the Unarmed Class he'd finally spent the nel on for the season, Caius quickly made his way out of the library and into the bitter cold darkness of Cylus toward the Lawn. He'd barely bothered to throw his ash-colored cloak over his shoulders, the Ezere hardly dressed for weather he'd once felt mild as a Gawyne but now didn't really feel at all as Favored of Ziell, for he had no coat and no gloves, just his fine cotton shirt, House violet brocade vest, leather breeches and boots. The weather this far south in Andaris had always felt mild to him, but now it meant almost nothing. Regardless of his opinions, the heavy snow had been cleared from the paths in the lawn and the northern noble made his way toward the practice areas that had been carved from the piles for the use of the Sports Clubs.

Lit by the flames of lanterns like the rest of campus during this dark season, everything took on a more sinister glare that left the young Gawyne uncomfortable after all that had transpired this season, on edge.

He'd attempted to join a class or two with Ser Dukroz, but the young ex-slaves's dislike of those of his social status tended to make Caius feel like the odd man out. When one was going to have your ass handed to you, it was at least a slightly less humiliating feeling to be respected first. So, this season, the northern noble had signed up for Ser Otad's classes instead, aware the man was far more advanced in his technique focus. Oh well, if an academic challenge was enjoyable, surely a physical one could be as well, right?

Caius arrived in the middle of combat, the short, broad-shouldered Ennen Otad tossing a bunch of young men around in the hard-packed snow as all of them seemed to attempt to take him at once. It resembled a bunch of puppies attacking an adult dog, and the Lord Arbiter smirked, quietly entering the circle and shrugging off the cloak that served as his uniform. He already felt out of place again, late and perhaps the elder. Sharp blue eyes followed the compact older man's movements, watching as he took on the pack of young men as a wild beast would, Ser Otad clearly in his element when surrounded by multiple opponents.

It was only a matter of bits before the four young men were all on the ground, groaning. Caius had heard the instructor didn't pull punches, that everyone went home sore and bleeding. That didn't bother him.

The short former slave was dusting snow from his calloused hands, turning to size up the tall, lanky newcomer who looked suddenly like an uninvited guest, "Yer a lil' late."

"My apologies, Ser. I can sit out—"

"Nah. S'fine. You paid, eh? Then get your money's worth, my Lord." The man wasn't unaware of Caius' face, but he was kind enough not to use his official title in front of strangers. Looking back to the four young men, he growled at them, "Get up, pups. Lessons haven't started yet. That was just warmin' up. Y'all feel limber now, don'tcha?"

He was laughing, but he whirled on Caius without warning, wanting to grapple him and toss him into the snow as well. Caught off-guard, the northern noble's meager sidestep didn't avoid the man's grasp, and even though he shifted into a stance he'd use with a weapon in hopes of maintaining his balance, the shorter, older man was stronger, faster, and way more skilled. One hand snatched for the younger man's elbow, calloused fingers curling into pressure points he found there, while the other snatched for his vest, twisting to shove the hissing Lord to the snow as if he was a doll, the force of the impact knocking all the air from his lungs in a cloud of breath.

The young Gawyne sneered with his surprise, but chose to say nothing, quick to scramble to a stand.

"There, can't leave you outta that bit o' stretchin'. Now, are you sure you're all in the right class?"

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Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Vincent Krome » Fri Mar 23, 2018 8:40 pm

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Jack and his friends got their footing shortly after Caius arrived. They stood to the side to regroup for their next offensive against the burly Ennen.

When the old man asked them if they were loosened up any, Jack spat out with a laugh, "My ribs are rattlin' mate. That what you mean?" His head dipped, his lungs heaving at having the wind knocked out of him.

The others didn't have time to chide Jack before a newcomer arrived, and almost as quick thrown to the ground. The newcomer dusted himself off and then rose to his feet with a sneer.

"Oy! Who's this swell?" Sheepshead Nick chattered, wiping the snow off the front of his shirt.

"He's a long one, that Duke of Limbs!" Sheepshead and the others laughed, but Jack kept his mouth shut, taking a moment to study the newcomer. He did look the part of a noble or a scholar, the superior sneer as he rose to his feet after getting easily thrown aside by Ennen gave him away. The cape, the nice, laundered clothes. He was just the sort that his father tried to foist on him when he was very young, trying to impress on him the building of alliances early on. That is when he wasn't half-drowned in his cups, and wasting away. Or was it Badon that had imposed that lesson on him? He wasn't sure.

"What's a matter, Strapless Jack!"

"The little lordling of Limbs has such fine hands, reminds our Jack of 'is own. Between the two of 'em, they ain't seen a day of honest lifting in their lives!"

"Shut up, Sheepshead. We're not here to ride a dead horse... I paid my way, I ain't wastin' it to hear you jaw me dead!"

Ennen was not amused by the chatter going on in the midst of his circle. Sheepshead took the brunt of his new offensive, which happened so fast. Ennen was a blur of a figure as he rushed the talkative fool and grappled him.

Instead of intervening on behalf of his comrade, Jack watched carefully at what Ennen did next. The old grappler wrapped his arms around Nick Sheepshead's neck, and nearly tore off his cranium as he pulled him over his shoulder, repeating the whipping motion he seemed so fond of. It was a simple mechanism, or else he made it appear so. Sheepshead howled as he was slammed against the ground with all the force Ennen could muster without breaking bones.

"Hard old cove..." Sheepshead wheezed, rubbing his neck and scrambling to his feet as Ennen dipped back into his fighting stance. "Let's all have a moment to gather our..."

"Fuck that... Every bloke for his self!" Jack growled as he rushed the old man like a wild boar. He leaped at the last moment, only to be caught with both arms by the old ground pounder. Ennen hoisted Jack for a few moments as if he were a trophy. Jack squirmed, growled, and spat as he tried to wriggle free of the instructor's grasp until he was thrown in Caius' general direction.
* Posting Schedule and Plots * Vincent Krome's Aliases: Jack North *
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Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Caius Gawyne » Tue Apr 03, 2018 1:06 pm

Caius' irises darkened at the chiding, aware that the pack of boys was mocking him. He'd lifted plenty and sweat alongside their ilk in the print room of the Rynmere Gazette, Basilius Moad never one to shy away from taking on an apprentice of any walk of life and nearly any age old enough to reach the taller type worktables or work the twisting handle of the big wooden press,

"Fine hands? Please, boy, I've done plenty of honest lifting—both of some delicate, expensive skirts and their lovely fleshly contents. Far more than you have at the House of Roses with spare coin from someone else's purse, I'm sure."

They were just loud-mouthed kids, the lot of them it seemed, but he wasn't about to let them get away with too many insults without a few of his own. His grin was wicked, a flash of straight white teeth and a chuckle. They must have had some kind of pickpocketing success to pay the pretty nel and end up against the likes of Ennen by choice. The young Gawyne would have smirked at that, watching the boys rush the instructor again and realizing he needed to prepare himself for more impromptu combat.

Quickly finding a modicum of defensive footing, Caius attempted to recall his harsh but more esoteric combat education in Viden, letting his judgmental and distracting thoughts ebb away and bringing his focus on the youthful limbs and loud voices of to-trials classmates. It was just when he thought he saw an in, preparing to step and swing at Ser Otad that the shorter, older man snagged meaty fistfuls of the dark-haired youth called Jack and hefted him in the northern noble's direction,

"For Fate's sa—" Caius begin before he was forced to more or less catch the small-framed youth that was tossed in his direction. Lighter than an undead bear and far less disgusting, the young Gawyne managed to keep his footing against Jack's impact, staggering backwards a few steps with a growl while his ink-stained fingers moved to curl into the youth's clothing and set him back on his feet as if he was doing him some wordless courtesy, only Caius didn't let go.

Sharp blue eyes briefly grazed over the young man's face, curious about what his so-called friends had joked about just heartbeats before, and then the northern noble stepped forward to give the pair even less space than their proximity already barely gave them, grip tight on the boy before he shifted his lanky weight and shoved Jack toward one of the boy's loud-mouthed companions who'd already leapt up from the snow and begun to scramble toward Ennen again, hoping to knock the both of them down at the instructor's feet.

While Ser Otad was hardly distracted by the motion, the bulkier ex-slave had already turned toward Caius while the northern noble's arms were extended from the toss, calloused hands snatching one such wrist and eliciting a hiss of surprise and pain from the Lord Arbiter as thumb and fingers threatened to crush bone with the force of his grab,

"Not gettin' away so easy there, yer Lordship." He was laughing, though his expression briefly flashed with surprise as Caius didn't struggle or shy away from the discomfort of his grip, twisting toward him instead with a bony elbow aimed for the shorter, older man's face, "Ah! Yeah, there—"

The young Gawyne didn't quite make it to his intended target, Ser Otad's other big hand catching his elbow again and this time eliciting a gurgle of pain as he squeezed and twisted, his calloused laugh loud in the older man's broad chest as he brought Caius to his knees in the trampled snow,

"—now whatcha got, eh?"

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Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Vincent Krome » Thu Apr 05, 2018 7:12 pm

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"Oy, yeah? Watch yer own skirts, Lord Limbs, or ol' Ennen will 'ave 'is way wif ya. I'll put yer head in a vice and watch while the blasted old stump violates yer rump." Sheepshead wasn't one to back down from a verbal lashing, even when he didn't catch the meaning of all the words or inferences used. Nevertheless, he hadn't much wind left in him after Otad knocked it out of him with the latest offensive.

Vincent felt himself getting thrown. Although he was an avid climber, he'd rarely fallen. The sensation of flying through the air seemed to slow time and gave his gut a strange buzz as he landed against the so-dubbed Lord Limb.

Much to his relief, this didn't degenerate into another beating, this time at the hands of the much taller lordling that caught him. Yet the man didn't let go of Vincent. He would have knocked his junk in to make him reconsider, but then his eyes met the other man's. He tightened his jaw, and then nodded. "I'll take him under if you knock him over. Let's..." Before he could finish the thought, the Lord Limb sent him sprawling towards Sheepshead, who he bowled over, slipping on the thin sheet of snow.

"C'mon Jack, get offer me!" Sheepshead screeched.

Meanwhile, Vincent had a great view as the Lord of Limbs renewed his attack on Ennen. He couldn't help but respect the man's ability to move in attack, even if it ended in getting his elbow joint crushed under the more powerful man's grip.

Vincent leapt up from the ground, and began charging. Ennen's face was turned from him, a good opportunity to exploit, that Vincent learned from his occupation as a pickpocket. He was nearly upon the large man. Just as he entered the man's reach, Vincent received Ennen's backhand to the face, sending him to fall on his back. Vincent did fall, and slid forward as he did so, far enough to take Lord Limb's limbs out from beneath him if he didn't dodge this latest blunder.
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Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Caius Gawyne » Tue Apr 17, 2018 3:10 pm

"Did your whore of a mum teach you that one?" Caius taunted Sheepshead further, more than willing to play along simply because it seemed as though the young man was quite vicious when riled up. Still, the same noble that could haughtily taught a commoner could still whine in pain when their instructor brought it, his calloused fingers finding pressure points.

Ennen was grinning over the young Gawyne, who grit his teeth and shoved his captured arm upwards and outwards, tossing off the stronger grip with a hiss of hot breath and more pain, beginning to get up just as the smaller Jack charged in. Ser Otad seemed to be able to concentrate on the entire battlefield at once with an uncanny skill, his free hand simply smacking the boy in the face, tossing him in Caius' direction,

"Damn it all." The northern noble growled, scrambling to get out of the way of the sliding youth, sidestepping him just as Jack's flailing self brushed against the back of his legs. He used his quick dodge to step toward the shorter, older, bulkier instructor instead of away from him, aware that he should have been afraid of what he was doing, but also aware that he wasn't exactly going to walk away from the trial without a few bruises anyway.

He moved in just as Ennen was recovering from his backhanding of Jack and just as Sheepshead was getting back on his feet. Everyone was panting hot clouds of breath in the Cylus chill, though Caius didn't feel the cold. He was the only one, Ziell's favor invisible under his clothes. Syroa's too, but that was besides the point at this juncture. Ser Otad's dark eyes met the young Gawyne's for a moment and his more skilled body tensed to attack him, burly arms flexing and feet shifting as he was prepared to shove the noble away from himself with two meaty, calloused palms into the Lord Arbiter's narrow chest.

Taking the two open-palms with a grunt, swept at the shorter man's legs on his way down, twisting his hips as he tangled their legs together in an attempt to drag the man down with him and give the boys a chance to leap at him while he was down. Caius wasn't a heavy beast, hardly more than bone and lanky muscle and pale, northern skin, but he was a little stronger than he looked. Ennen hadn't expected the noble's retaliation, and as Caius crunched in the snow with a groan, lungs burning and chest burning with pain, Ser Otad stumbled, open and vulnerable for at least a trill or two.

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Caius Gawyne
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Losing his Lunch Money

Postby Aeodan » Wed Jun 06, 2018 1:43 pm

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Name: Caius Gawyne

Knowledge:
• Intimidation: Always insult their mother
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Pressure points!
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): There is no graceful falling
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Sidestep dodge
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Keeping your footing against sudden impact
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Improvised tripping with other opponents' bodies
• Unarmed Combat (Grappling): Dealing with multiple opponents
• Endurance: Catching your breath after having it knocked out of you
Loot: None
Injuries: None
Renown: 5 - Getting good with those fists... The people of Rynmere have noticed.
Magic XP: No

Points: 15

- - -

Comments:
"Fine hands? Please, boy, I've done plenty of honest lifting—both of some delicate, expensive skirts and their lovely fleshly contents. Far more than you have at the House of Roses with spare coin from someone else's purse, I'm sure."

Boom. Roasted.


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