[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

Fridgar does some exercise in Ilaren's name, gets arrested and meets up with an old friend

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Varthakh
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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Fridgar hesitated, this was a terrible idea. Fuck it, for Ilaren he thought before standing up from his table. Ilaren, watch this. It’s gonna be fucking awesome, I promise He prayed quickly in his head, it had been some time since he'd done anything awesome for Ilaren. A quick look to Rufus, the tavern keeper, with a wink revealed his intentions. Rufus dropped the mug he'd been cleaning in disbelief, it shattered upon impact with the floor. "FRIDGAR! DON'T YOU DARE! I JUST REPLACED THOSE TABLES!! The older male roared before ducking for cover.

"'Scuse me, lads." Fridgar spoke, sitting at the table with the three men. The middle man maintained his glare on Fridgar, the same one he'd had for the entirety of Fridgar's calm drink. "Drop that look, or I'm sending you flying." Fridgar declared, looking to the male with a raised eyebrow. "Fuck off, ugly cunt." The middle man spat in his face, his two friends erupted with laughter. Fridgar exhaled, putting his fingers to the saliva in his eye and wiping it away. His eye shifted to the male, iris shrinking into the black. After a trill or two of their laughter, Fridgar lunged forward gripped the middle man by the hair and pulled, his face collided with the table, broke through the table and impact the floor, hard.

Fridgar crossed his arms, "Lucky you, you didn't go flying.". His two friends looked to the Lothar gobsmacked before the left got up and punched Fridgar in the jaw. What the male hadn't realised was that Fridgar’s bones were harder than his, the male immediately threw his hand between his legs, groaning with pain and his sprained hand throbbed with pain. Fridgar shot up from his chair and gripped the male, lifting him over his head. A nearby couple ran out the door behind him, Fridgar remained oblivious. The male that had been on the right got up and immediately began to punch Fridgar in the gut, his fists almost tickled against his sheer mass of muscle. With a sadistic grin, he threw the male above him to the floor through his friend. Both landed on the floor, screaming with pain as something broke at the double impact.

The Lothar wasn't done there, he gripped the floored male, the one that had been crushed by his friend, and lifted. He spun on the spot in circles before releasing, throwing the man across the room and through another bloke's table. Over the space of a bit, the entire tavern had erupted into a massive brawl. The giant man dominated the battlefield, shrugging off every hit from their comparably tiny fists and throwing people like bowling balls through skittles, the skittles being more people. He'd not punched anyone in fear of killing them in public, but had grabbed plenty of people crudely. Fridgar stood in the middle of the bar, bodies lining the venue, groaning and sobbing with pain. His foot found itself leaning on a pile of three people, his clawed hands shot to the sides, stretching out his chest with his head thrust upward. He roared, declaring himself the victor.

The guards showed up mid-roar, a dozen or so all fully armed. The hung around in the doorway, looking in with scared faces. Fridgar looked over his shoulder, his black eyes glinting in the dim light. "Come on then, Let's go to the dungeon." Fridgar grinned, handing himself over to the guards. He'd left his totems at home, getting into a fight with lots of pointy things was a bad idea in Fridgar form.


Hilarious, the guard had attempted to throw him into the cell, Fridgar didn't even budge. The tiny man pressed against his back, struggling under Fridgar's tremendous weigh and strength. Fridgar looked over his shoulder with his hands bound in shackle in front of him "Say please." Fridgar demanded. "Please!?" The Guard behind him shrieked between breaths as he pressed against the 300lb mass of muscle. Fridgar complied, stepping into his cell and sending the man behind him stumbling. Fridgar laughed.

Whatchya think, Ilaren? Was that sick or what? he prayed as the guards locked the cell door behind him. He sighed, could she even hear him? Nah, forget being all sad about it, just keep stirring hell until she notices. Fridgar roared in his cell. "I was arrested for my religion!" he declared kicking the bar with the flat of his foot. The dungeon broke out into an uproar, all proclaiming their injustice. With a smile, Fridgar took a seat at the wall. Who would be his jailer for the evening and could they keep up?
word count: 801
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Rafael Warrick
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

There once was a beautfiul post here that has been ruthlessly killed by me because of a calendar/date issue (can't be in two places at once!)
Last edited by Rafael Warrick on Mon Mar 06, 2017 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 28
Life is a dark comedy, only you're not in on the joke.
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Woe
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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Woe did not only serve the prisoners in the Oubliette and the greater dungeon beneath it's spiraling descent. There were more areas within the prison, on the ground level where more temporary residents were held until they had a chance to cool off. Usually they were all about passing the time until they could be set free and pardoned for whatever minor infraction they'd caused. But tonight a huge uproar went up along the halls of the cells on either side, with each prisoner proclaiming their innocence and demanding to be set free.

Woe had drawn the short straw this evening, taking the night shift. He wore his Andaris black clothes to represent the guard of the city. As well, he wore his raven-feather and leather cloak. His black boots clicked audibly above the din as he made his way down the hall to the source of the disturbance.

Apparently the infraction was some kind of brawl. They likely wouldn't be let in for long, but while they were here they could be subject to the 'hospitality' of the Dungeons.

It was about then that Woe arrived at Fridgar's cell, to see the alleged instigator inside. He recognized him immediately of course. Not many 6'10" Lothar around in the city, with all that muscle. He could've probably bent the bars of the prison if he wanted to. Woe wasn't even sure a man that didn't notice a giant snake trying to crush his bones would respond to torment of any kind. He might as well think Woe was giving him some sort of a spa treatment.

A young guardsman next to Woe screamed for the large Lothar to shut up, apparently losing his patience. Woe was vaguely aware of the circumstances revolving around the prisoner's reason for being there, but he turned to question Rafael. "What is the client's reason for being jailed thus? And I haven't seen you around here, Sir. Are you a volunteer from the Iron Hand?"

He turned to regard Fridgar, and nodded in greeting. "Ready for your treatment, Fridgar?"
word count: 363
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Varthakh
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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The Lothar smiled, his mission accomplished. The fruits of his labour bared with the rapidly increasing cries of the prisoners, demanding their release - release that would not come. Soon after, the jailers that had arrested him walked by quickly, keeping their gaze forward with intent. Priceless it was. After they'd passed, he waited a bit or two before calling out once more "Let us out of 'ere!!", rekindling the riot of the prison with his booming voice. He laughed hysterical as his voice was drowned out by the full on roar of the prisoners - chaos that he'd started. With the noise drowned out, he pulled at his cuffs in a short quick motion, snapping the chain that bound him by the weakest link.

The click of the second jailers heels on the stone came from down the hall, silencing the prisoners as he came. That's strange, did Harry buy a new pair of boots? About time. Alas, it wasn't Harry on the night shift, but a familiar face; Woe. "Woe! Nice to see you, buddy! How you been?" Fridgar's voice sounded with delight. The other guard cried out for the silence of the few who continued the onslaught of whinging, silence soon followed. Woe didn't seem to recognise Fridgar, not in the slightest. "Uhh, hello? Woe, it's me! Fridgar the... Fridgar the snake trainer!" he laughed, amazed that he'd gotten away with that particular lie for so long.

Woe still wasn't having it, turning to converse with the other guy on duty. "Rude." Fridgar declared, crossing his arms and sitting back. Yes, he'd crossed his arms, despite having pretended that the chain was still intact mere bits ago. The worst part being that he didn't seem to realise his error. Finally, Woe acknowledged his existence with a nod. Fridgar smiled, opening his mouth to say something before drooping his features completely. "Treatment?" Fridgar asked, raising an eyebrow, almost confused. "You can't be serious, Woe. We're pals! Pals don't torture each other!" The Lothar laughed uncomfortaby - was Woe serious? Inspection of his eyes revealed that he was indeed serious.

Oh boy. Fridgar surpressed the burning in his chest, masking it with fear. "B-But I'm innocent!" The Lothar begged, stuttering naturally. His hands were held out, fully showing that he was well and truly free. "Woe, please... You don't want to hurt me, do you?" he asked, his voice shaking a little. Should either of the guards enter his cell, he'll back up into a fighting stance and raise both his fists. Should they make an attempt to capture him regardless, he'll allow himself to be caught. What's the worst that the two could muster on a beast of his proporion?
word count: 476
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Woe
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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"Yes, I'm a squire from the Iron Hand." The guardsman said, without properly introducing himself, "This man was sent here for disrupting the public order in a Tavern. All of the witnesses say that he started it."

"Are the witnesses being detained here?" Woe looked around at the prisoners, growing louder by the bit.

"No, these miscreants were here when I got here."

"Awaiting judgement, I suppose. If you want to help out here, why don't you let them trickle down into the Dungeon's lower levels, bit after bit, one or two at a time. There should be room enough down there. Meanwhile, I'll take care of this one here." The torture cells could do with some filling, anyhow. And if it sunk in that disrupting order wasn't in their best interests afterall, all the better.

The squire nodded curtly, and then went to go about the business of escorting prisoners. Although the man far outranked Woe in terms of authority, having seen Fridgar, the squire probably didn't want any part of the mess to ensue. Woe simply gave him a way out that allowed him to perform his duties here.

While the prisoners in question were escorted down, one at a time, Woe pulled up a stool and set it to the wall opposite Fridgar's cell. Then he sat in it, and watched the large Lothar curiously. "Oh yeah, the snake trainer. How silly of me to mistake you time after time. At the ball, for instance."

"Many witnesses say you started a big fight at a nearby tavern. You did pretty well there, by all accounts."
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Varthakh
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He didn't pay much attention to the man's conversation with Woe, something about leading prisoners away? He'd been too busy sulking about Woe's sudden ignorance of him. Suddenly, however, Woe was alone with Fridgar. Except for the other prisoners, of course. Was this his plan from the beginning?

After Woe had pulled up a stool and sat in it, he spoke to Fridgar at last. The Lothar smiled. "I know right, am I just hard to tell apart from the average citizen?" His laugh was cut short as Woe spoke once more. Fridgar scratched his chin, seemingly oblivious to the prisoners being transported to the torture levels. "Yeah... But I was drunk." Fridgar smirked, almost confirming it not to be true. "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, you know? 'Specially when they talk to you like shit."

That hadn't been the only reason Fridgar had brutalised the man, it was they eye contact more than anything. Since his bear totem had fixed itself, he'd developed ursine-like behaviours, the flares of emotion during eye contact were but a side effect of what was probably a mutation, but that was something he couldn't explain to Woe. All in all, Fridgar was fine. Their fists were tiny against his massive form with little to no strength behind them, while his dense muscle mass and strong bones provided more than a match for their physiques.

"Did the guards tell you what I did?" Fridgar asked with a sly smile, extending his gaze to the human. "I crumpled the lot of 'em! The first one, I smashed him through a table, then his buddies, I threw them across the room. I should invent a sport!" Fridgar howled with laughter, clearly quite fond of the fight. The poor people didn't stand a chance. He jolted forward suddenly, dropping his laugh with a ferocious snarl "It's their own damn faults. Who do they think they are, calling me names and spitting on me like I'm trash? I taught them a lesson of respect, I should be thanked, not locked away in here." he declared with a huff.

Calming slightly, he sat back in his chair. "What do you mean by treatment, anyway?"
word count: 388
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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Woe let the behemoth talk for a while longer. "A sport? I suppose everybody needs a hobby. It's just a shame yours has disrupted the public order."

He waited a few moments, looking down the lane as the prisoners were slowly shuffled down to the torture dungeons. The din of raucous protests that Fridgar had managed to drum up was still there, but not enough that Woe couldn't be heard above it. At some point the guardsman must have given up on the task and gone back to being a squire, because he didn't see him leading anymore down. Or else he was dismissed for leading those men to the torment cells. Probably for the best. Woe couldn't have a riot ensuing from some of the prisoners getting rowdy with the young soldier, and acquiring the keys to the cell.

Woe shrugged at Fridgar, "Not that I disapprove. Your strength and endurance must be incredible to have mopped the floor with that many people."

"As for the treatment, I was going to administer some corporal correction, as per the custom in this house." Woe tapped the handle of his bullwhip. "The usual punishment for your offense is ten lashes. Not a huge deal as punishments go, but we can't let lesser men than yourself get away with beating a mob of commoners trying to enjoy their nights half to death. You understand?"

Woe wasn't sure if Fridgar would. He was a bit conflicted as this Fridgar seemed like a good enough guy, but the rules were what they were. He unfurled his whip, and aimed a potshot at Fridgar's face through the bars of the door at the top of his cell. It wasn't likely to connect, given Woe's command of the weapon and Fridgar's amount of cover through the door. He had a feeling it'd take some doing to get those lashes in, a very long night. If Fridgar would back away from the cell door, Woe would unlock it, and attempt to enter if Fridgar didn't rush at the cell door.
word count: 362
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Fridgar shrugged. "Public order? Where's the fun in that?" came his grin through the bars of the cell. While Woe's head was turned, he approached the bars and gripped them tight with his paws. "Awww, shucks. Stop, you'll make me blush." he mocked at Woe's compliment, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "Eh, people are like childs-play in weight, I can lift a grown man with one hand, no problem.” he went on to explain, this was the truth. The giant Lothar might have even been able to manage two bodies with one arm. "Bending these bars though, now that sounds like a challenge." With that, he pressed with all of his strength into the thick iron bars.

The shackles of his cuffs dangled the broken chain from his wrists, jingling a little as his body shook under the force he was exerting. The Iron groaned as his face reddened. Focus he commanded of himself, harnessing his adrenaline toward his upper-body-strength. He grit his teeth under the massive force, only listening to Woe with half an ear. The human's tone was confident, as though he had the utmost faith in the bars. Stone dust would fall in rivulets from above, where the bars met stone. Try as he might, he couldn't break the iron, or even bend it. Though the stone would give away eventually, or so he’d discovered.

He halted his press, shaking the bar to reveal that he had in fact loosened it, a mission accomplished in his eyes. Also in his eyes, the sudden flash of black that struck his cheek and sent him reeling. Fridgar flinched and put his fingers to the wound as blood seeped from the stinging pain on his cheek. Whatever had done that had drawn blood. Wide eyes, he looked to Woe to lay his eyes on his whip. Did Woe just whip him? "What the fuck, dude?" the beast asked, shocked and hurt. "Did you just WHIP ME!?" he put emphasis on the last two words, as though he'd expected to be treated kindly for his un-subtle attempted escape.

What had Woe said? Ten lashings? By the immortals, he should have brought a totem with him to use Chrysalis. These wounds were going to scar. "Alright alright!" he put his hands up, submitting to the punishment coming his way. A shaky breath left his mouth, surprisingly scared. He did not react when Woe opened the cell door, merely stood in place with his hands held high. "D-did that count as one?" He stuttered. Providing compliance, he would do as instructed and go wherever Woe led him without resistance.
word count: 456
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Woe
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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Woe listened to the story about how Fridgar had man-handled an entire mob of angry tavern patrons. It was an impressive story, more if it was true. Of course, him being Lothar, it was entirely possible that he was capable of such prowess and strength. One might think that a small group of men could rush him, but Woe guessed by his build that he was more of a ground fighter than a pugilist. Ground-fighters always did better in the arena, from what little action he'd seen.

The ex-slave watched in wonderment as the behemoth showed his strength, nearly bending the latticework of bars out of the stones above and below. He wasn't sure how deep they ran, but he wasn't about to take any chances. So he entered the cell, whether it'd be the death of him or not, he didn't particularly care at this point. He was anticipating an interesting time in there, at the very least.

Anyway, Woe went in there, and listened to Fridgar's complaints. "Let's call it two, since I got you in the face. I apologize for that. I only meant to hit the air and get you away from the bars. If you cooperate, it won't happen again."

So saying, provided compliance from the prisoner, Woe would proceed to carry out Fridgar's punishment. "Face away from me, Fridgar. I'm going to lash your back eight times. No more than that, then you'll be free to go. Can't have you breaking these bars on my watch."

Woe waited to see if Fridgar was in the mood to cooperate.
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[Mature] 'Intensive Care'

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The giant appeared cooperative, failing to flinch as Woe entered the room entirely. Woe had some balls, that much was certain. How many others would want to get into the same cell as a man that they'd whipped in the face? especially if that man were Fridgar? Showing no signs of resistance, Fridgar turned around slowly with his arms up. What, was woe going to break his clothes and everything in these lashings? If Woe so commanded, he would remove his jacket and shirt, tying them around his waist.

He waited in anticipation. Should the whip crack at his exposed skin, he would grimace audibly with a hiss. Woe couldn't see, but his expression would curl uncomfortably at the sting. Come the second lashing, Fridgar would jolt at the sudden pain, shivering with untold delight. Though he would audibly disapprove with a pained wince. Come the third, Fridgar listened for the stirring of the whip through the air and timed the interval between the lash and the preparation, he didn't react as much as the whip cracked and tore open his bare skin for the third time.

Come the fourth lash, Fridgar burst with energy suddenly. Widening his stance, he rushed forward and took the lash to his chest, baring his teeth as he wildly dashed for the human. With the harnessing of his adrenaline, it didn't take long to close the gap and he grabbed hold of the human before he could leave the room, he'd have likely reacted at the last second. Fridgar would throw him against the wall with enough force to knock the air from his lungs, but not cause any serious injury. "Sorry, Woe. Just ‘cus I like you, I'll let you live." He declared before taking the ring of keys from the man's belt as he held him against the hard stone wall with incredible force.

"Which way is out?" The larger male asked, tightening his press on the human.
word count: 340
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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