• Graded • Tales of Misfortune.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 80th Ashan, 717

There is a first time for everything in life, but this wasn't the first time that Finn sauntered down the dreaded hallway leading to the director's office. Except this time, none other than the director himself would be receiving him, and such ill fate had not befallen him before. Barnebly, as the director was called, was a strict man wearing thin, round glasses who rarely set foot in his own office. He preferred to leave the management of the orphanage to the overworked and underappreciated caretakers, for having to deal with hopeless scoundrels was far above his station. There were but few ocassions on which the man visited, and on these ocassions, as if by magic, all the little devils turned into exemplary young citizens. Barnebly would then proceed to inspect the building, the provisions, and the diligence of the plebs, before thankfully taking his leave again.

But then there were cases like this one: a boy so stubborn in his wrongheadedness that the director simply had to come down and manage the miscreant himself. Runaway, liar, pilferer, fighter, thief. These were the words that Barnebly had been subjected to upon first receiving word of the specimen that had been ruining the good name of his establishment. There was a hint of curiosity then in his stern gaze, transfixed as it was on the door on which a little knock sounded.

Barnebly straightened himself and set his face in the hardest expression he could manage before his purely spoken Ith'ession sounded.

"Enter."

--

Finn reluctantly pushed the door into the director's office open and was greeted by two things. First, a waft of warm, muggy air, and secondly by the lethal, blue-eyed gaze of the director.

Barnebly couldn't quite hide his surprise at seeing a fairly short and youthful boy entering into his office. He had expected someone far rougher looking. Some rowdy teen perhaps with rolled up sleeves, dirty fingernails, knackered teeth, a few scars and a black eye. Instead he was greeted by a creature whose hair was admittedly messy and whose posture left to be desired, but who was otherwise fairly presentable.

Quick to regain his composure, Barnebly pointed to the chair opposite his ornate, mahogany desk and spoke a single, pure command.

"Sit."

Finn silently moved over to the appointed chair and slumped back into it, earning him a disapproving stare from the director.

"Do you know why you're here?" Barnebly resumed in common.

"You wanted to have a chat?" Finn answered with feigned innocence.

Barnebly slowly leaned forward in the antique wooden chair he was seated on and peered down at the boy over the edge of his glasses, his distaste evident.

"I'll forgive you the sleight and ask again," Barnebly uttered in what he thought was a most magnanimous gesture. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Cause I did some tinks and said some tinks that people dun like," Finn shrugged.

The rough language was appaling to Barnebly's delicate hearing but he managed to decipher what was said regardless. "That's about the crux of it, yes," the director said carefully. "I have been informed that you've been entering and exiting this fine establishment at your own leisure and, furthermore, have caused many a civil disturbance outside these walls...as well as inside, I might add. Now," Barnebly leaned down to the side of the desk and fetched a paper from his bag, "I've also been informed that the caretakers here have attempted all manners of corrective methods, but none seem to have the desired effect. As such, I believe more drastic measures are in order."

Finn sat up at the foreboding words and for the first time, Barnebly smiled. It seemed he was having at least some effect on the boy.

"As of today, you have been suspended indefinitely from this establishment. In other words: you are no longer welcome here and will no longer take residence here."

Finn felt his heart drop to his stomach, then onto his seat, and then all the way down to the floor. His jaw slackened in disbelief and he seized the armrests of his chair with both hands. "I'm being kicked out?"

"Suspended," the director corrected. "But yes, if that's how you wish to formulate it, I suppose you could say 'kicked out'"

"But- but you can't!"

"No?"

"Where am I to go then?" Finn jumped up from his seat, "what am I to do?"

Though Barnebly took some pleasure in seeing such anguish on the lad's face, he was not half as cruel as most made him out to be. He gestured for Finn to calm himself and be seated again. Defeated, the boy obeyed and sunk back into his chair.

"We're not entirely giving up on you yet. We give you one more chance. At the expense of the orphanage you'll be travelling to Foster's landing this afternoon where, upon arrival, you shall take up employment in the business of eh-" the director rummaged through some papers before looking up again. "yes, Mister Caltweld."

Finn didn't appear remotely relieved by the mention of this name, but Barnebly explained regardless. "Now, Mister Caltweld works in the harbour and is need of some additional assistance to help load and unload the wares that come of the ships there. In more plain words: you shall be apprenticed to Mister Caltweld in the trade of dockhand. How does that sound?"

"Horrible," Finn muttered under his breath.

"Well, yes," Barnebly couldn't entirely disagree with the boy. "But you don't really have a choice. You may go pack your things now, you'll be leaving this afternoon."

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 96th Ashan, 717

It had been three trials ago that he'd arrived at he modest establishment of Mister Caltweld. The middle-aged man turned out to be a retired sailor, at least so he claimed. Finn guessed the man had been a pirate instead, but there wasn't a hair on his head that thought about asking. Director Barnebly was like a fluffy, cuddly sheep in comparison to Caltweld who barked indecipherable commands at his employees between chewing on his pipe. There were about a dozen more unfortunate souls under Caltweld's command, the majority being young men at least half a decade older than Finn and with a musculature that attested to their time spent in Caltweld's business.

Within the first night of staying, Finn already longed back to the simple bunk bed he'd had at the orphanage. His new lodgings consisted of a thin layer of straw sprinkled over the hardwood floor of the attic, and a jute bag was his only shield against any cold which, thankfully, he didn't need.

Work started at first light and didn't cease until the twin suns had cast an orange glow over the calm waters. His job was as simple as it was repetitive, to carry crates off a ship and into storage, only to do the reverse the next morning.

Mister Caltweld was a pragmatic man and it was this pragmatism that enabled him to achieve the impossible. Within three trials of working the docks, Finn no longer talked back to his superiors, made no attempts to explore the area on his own volition, and certainly didn't cause any more trouble. All Finn had time to think about was how sore his arms were and how he longed for freshly washed clothes. The means by which this miracle had been achieved were cruel and effective in equal measure. While Finn wasn't unfamiliar with a box to the ears, the force with which Caltweld struck could send a great shark flying up into the high heavens. The first time, he'd fought back, which had earned him the first ever grin he'd seen splitting Caltweld's face, followed by a kick to his behind when he didn't get up. Yet far more painful than any of the corrective measures Caltweld had doled out was the utter lack of help or sympathy from his co-workers. None of them even acknowledged his existence unless they absolutely had to, and it was this seclusion that dampened his spirits the most.

It wasn't until noon that morning that Caltweld fetched him. "Boy!" he called, which Finn had learned was his new name. At once Finn handed over the heavy crate he'd been carrying to a young man in Caltweld's service, whose name he didn't know. Thus relieved, he rubbed his sore arms and hastily followed Caltweld through the harbor until they arrived at Caltweld's Shipping and Transportation, the humble storefront for the honest business. There, Finn was greeted by the sight of a familiar face. Luckily, Caltweld didn't seem to catch the utter horror on the face of his errand boy and greeted the customer with as much hospitality as an ex-sailor could muster.

"Boy," he said, turning to Finn. "This customer needs somethink' done. Now what was it again exactly?" Mr. Caltweld asked of Gangui the barbarian. Despite walking with a stiff leg, Gangui would know not to mess with Caltweld, for the man was broad-shouldered, mean-eyed, and covered in tattoos and ugly scarcs in equal measure. "He's a hard worker, I assure you," Caltweld said between puffing his pipe in the corner of his mouth, "aren't you boy?"

Finn nodded vigorously, but utterly failed to hide the anguish on his face. He cursed himself inwardly. How easy his live had been in Etzos. How leisurely. Now he was trapped here, surrounded by two men who hadn't hesitated to strike him whenever they damn well pleased. Director Barnebly truly had been a lovely princess in comparison...

[Gangui]

Ashan 96, 717

Gangui sighed deeply and shook his head when he saw who his helper was. The warrior remained silent for awhile, one hand on hip and the other stroking his red beard. Favoring his left leg ever since the incident on the horse, the warrior decided that perhaps any reluctance he had with the Finn could be cast aside for the time being.

“This kid?” the wild-warrior grumbled, “You trained this kid to listen?”

The warrior's blue colbalt chainmail was worn and notched from toil and strife, but nothing compared to the grimness that emanated from the old sailor. Catweld’s battered body was still strong despite waning into the white beard stages of a man’s life. Gangui respected him for that, but it didn’t change his attitude towards this business; straight to the point and strategic if he could manage.

“I need him to help move boulders off my property,” Gangui exaggerated his situation with a nasty frown, “He doesn’t look strong enough, are you sure he can lift and push?”

Darting his eyes back and forth between the master and the boy, Gangui admitted to himself that Catweld had seemed to effectively subjugate Finn. Regardless, the memories of the brat’s deliberate pranks had almost cost him his reputation back in the heart of Eztos. Half frowning and half smiling, Gangui shook his head no, “I don’t know… my gut tells me this boy seems full of Immortal magic, he is no good…”

Within a moment’s Catweld massive ship-broken knuckles knocked against a wooden crate adjacent to them. Big, beady, black eyes widened inside a knotted brow-ridge, “Finn…”

Without so much as a flinch, a huge bead of sweat rolled off his forehead, down into a lifeless gray eye, then down his cheek, and into his beard, “We’ve learned how to be a good boy haven’t we?” Catweld made no attempt to hide the violent, grumble deep within his voice, “And we’ve learned what happens to stupid boys who think they can act like an Immortal?”

The warrior couldn’t help, but chuckle dryly at the new humble and respectful version Finn. The barbarian also took note on Catweld’s expert execution of coercing the boy. In effect of witnessing the retired sailor's antics, Gangui was sold, “Okay, how much?

Turning his gaze toward his customer, Catweld licked his chops and raised his brows, “2gn a day, plus you gotta upkeep him--”

“And if he dies?” Gangui cut the boss-man off without hesitation and with wide, courageous eyes. The price to pay was worth it if the boy was indeed a willing worker and afraid of authority.

Catweld frowned and penetrated Gangui’s eyes with a serious blink, “He better not die, or you owe me, and Eztos , a new worker,” Catweld nodded, “Moving boulders, ey?”

Frowning and grinding his teeth, the barbarian’s right eye twitched, nearly caving to Catweld's attitude change. Taking a deep breath, he remembered the sole purpose of his goal. The nomad responded with the very most subtle hint of fear, perhaps only Catweld would notice, “Aye, moving boulders...”

After a tense pause, a big guffawing smile spread across Catweld's face. Sighing in relief, it was at that moment the barbarian realized the man did not care about the exact details entailing the job Finn was to perform. Without another word, the two men performed a righteous handshake and an exchange of gold nel followed. Unlike some of the other people who traversed the Eztorsi port, he had an easy time communicating with Catweld.

~~~

The wooden door that marked the threshold of the warrior’s domain was plain except for a small peep hole. Turning a heavy iron key unlocked the tumblers set in place with the lubricated sounds of gears turning. They were greeted with nothing more than an empty room, except for all the bits of dust floating around revealed by the sunlight that filtered in through the window. The smell of the ocean lingered even through the confines of the dwelling.

Gangui pointed at the center of the room with a curt motion, “You. Stay here,” With quick, determined steps he proceeded to the other side of the room and opened an unlocked door. The sunlight from the window revealed the inside of a seemingly empty room briefly, before the barbarian produced some hand tools.

Hatchet in hand, the barbarian bent at the hips began to hack away at the wooden floor at the center of the room. There was no reason to explain to Finn why he was destroying his property. Gangui’s goal was to create a secret tunnel out of his house and into the ocean, because recently he was encountering a lot of problems openly transporting outlawed goods. He had no idea what he was doing at all, but figured he was smart enough to figure it out as he went.

Within a couple of minutes, the warrior had pulled up a sizable section of the floor up. Several beads of sweat began to formulate on the sides of his head by this time. Looking at his hand, he realized he got a splinter and mumbled a curse while pulling it out.

Picking up several pieces of wood, he motioned silently for Finn to do the same before, leading the kid out back of his property through another door that was locked with a tumbler. Outside there was a large, bushy oak tree with a wagon stationed under it. Gangui was lucky enough to have a location on his property that was easily hidden from casual passerbyers.

“Wood. Goes in here,” the barbarian said staring at Finn, before noisily tossing the pieces in the empty wagon, “Dirt goes in here too,” Remembering the treacherous times on the road, he suddenly jabbed a finger half way up the side of the storage area of the wagon, “Once it is filled half way, you tell me.”

Back inside, Gangui immediately went to work swinging a pick ax at the hard dirt. By the time Finn cleared out the wood, Gangui had sizeable chunks of dirt ready to be removed. “Inside the room over there,” He said pointing at the back room he produced the tools from, “Are buckets, get them so we can move the dirt.”

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 96th Ashan, 717

With the exception of a frightened nod when Caltweld bored his one good eye into him, Finn remained quiet at the old sailor’s side. His stomach churned when Gangui inquired about any potential consequences, should he perish. Caltweld, for all his cruelty, at least possessed a sense of business; no matter how punishing and hard the work was, there had always been a good meal at the end of it. Finn decided then that between the two, he much preferred to stay with the grizzled sailor than to go with the unpredictable redhead.

Yet, it wasn’t for him to decide. The deal was done and he soon hobbled after Gangui, clutching a bundle of belongings tightly to his chest as he tried to keep up with the man’s powerful strides. Finn had expected to arrive at some sort of dirty bandit’s hideout, if the man’s appearance was anything to go by. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of an oversized, bare shack that reeked of salty and wind-swept wood.

Gangui’s command was simple and Finn obeyed in silence. Small and lonesome was the figure that waited in the middle of the empty room with baited breath while the dust floated around him. His thoughts returned to Etzos and to his sister. He wondered if she would be able to find him here, or if she would even try to.

The barbarian returned a few moments later and Finn jumped backward as the floor was subjected to the barbarian’s vile temper. He only narrowly dodged a large splinter that whooshed over his head and merely looked on in awe as Gangui hacked away at the ground.

His insides turned cold and he shifted his weight uneasily. Had he not payed close enough attention? Surely Gangui wasn’t paying Caltweld 2 golden nels daily just to have him stand by and look on? Quietly he pinched his skin and to his dismay, he wasn’t dreaming a fever dream. Unable to simply stand by, Finn resorted to dropping his belongings in a corner of the room and when he turned to face Gangui again, was finally provided instruction in the form of a careless gesture.

The wood was cleared away in only a handful of bits, taking up only a fifth of the cart under the oak tree, before Finn brought the buckets from the side-room and started filling them with dirt. They were far heavier than he thought and the thin, steel handles bit into his palms as he carried bucketful after bucketful away. Yet, aside from gritting his teeth, he didn’t utter a single complaint. No more than fifteen bits had gone by before his hair had darkened with sweat and his arms were starting to feel sore and stretched out. Still, he soldiered on, allowing himself breaks of a few trills whenever he was outside to conserve his strength.

Fifteen more bits passed and there appeared no end in sight. Over and over again he wandered back and forth, back and forth until he grew so hot that he paused at the edge of the hole and pulled his drenched shirt over his head before tossing the ruined cloth aside. Finn wasn’t a stranger to the heat of the sun. His light-bronze skin glowed with warmth and the many scraps he’d been involved him had granted him the barest hint of musculature in his arms and chest. Despite Caltweld’s harsh treatment, the boy’s ribs were almost invisible, hidden behind a healthy layer of fat. If the old sailor had one redeeming quality, it would be the hearty meals he provided to his employees. After all, it was in his interest to keep his workers well-fed and healthy.

Four more times Finn carried the dirt to the cart and still, he did not whimper or complain. His throat had started to dry and his arms had begun to shake, but he did not give up or show any sign of pausing. He had determined that the best way to exact revenge upon Gangui for the humiliating episode in one of Etzos’ taverns earlier in the season, was to simply outlast the man. Yet in his determination, he had not paid much attention to how full the cart had gotten and by the time he realized, it was already too late. The dirt and wood filled the cart for more than two-thirds and he couldn’t simply throw half of it off.

Preparing himself for the worst, he sauntered back into the room and cleared his sore throat. His voice was far removed from the high-pitched voice that Gangui might have remembered. Instead, all that he slipped passed his lips was a dry, husky whisper, a faint shadow of a soft-spoken voice.

“It’s almost full,” he said, as he lingered at the edge of the hole, holding an empty bucket in each hand. Dust and dirt clung to his chest and hair. His eyelids were heavy and his arms trembled ever so slightly even though the buckets were empty. He clenched his jaw while a hint of some inward struggle flashed across his face. With a sigh, one half of his mind surrendered to the other as he put the buckets down and ventured to ask, “can I ‘ave some water, please?”

[Gangui]

Several breaks later

A measly four breaks later Gangui was waist deep in a hole. Runnels of sweat flowed down his sides and front. The dirt produced a layer of mud over his hairy body. The front quarter of the structure seemed to be completely decimated. Rich brown dirt reached every corner of the square area. Several feet of digging was simple and easy; the ground was soft and moist like clay.

Although the barbarian was no expert, he cursed the men who sold him the dwelling for they built it on what he deemed to be a shoddy foundation. He was expecting the digging to be hard and tough, but even after all those hours he wasn’t even close to winded.

Leaning up against the spade, the warrior took a moment of respite. The semi-soft sand would be trouble, so he figured the best course of action to excavate the entire room and rebuild the foundation. It would mean a lot more work, but he would pay the price and not count the cost.

When the boy walked in, Gangui stared at Finn with a frown on his face. The boy was already exhausted by the look of it and wanted water. The barbarian pointed at the “kitchen” or the area with the hearth in the other room. As the boy drank his fill, Gangui visualized with closed eyes how he was to execute the plan; he would need wood and hardware for sure, but was not sure how to get it laid out; he would talk to a worker down at the tavern later.

Snatching the jug of cool water from Finn’s dirty fingers with a rugged jerk, the barbarian looked at him with widened eyes and a scowl, “Don’t drink it all…” Raising the water to his lips, he drank a long draught, letting the liquid flow down his throat in a continuous stream, “Ahhhhhhh…”

Pushing the empty jug in the boy’s chest, Gangui looked him in the eyes, “We have a lot more to do, so you need pay attention,” Touching the bottom of the floor, the barbarian’s ass almost touched the floor before he sprung up in the air. In one fluid motion he high jumped out of the hole, landing on the balls of his feet.

Without a moment to waste, he motioned Finn into the other room with the supplies and began to hand the boy an assortment of items to take to the wagon; tarps, saws, ropes, lanterns, tents, blankets, and on and on. Gangui moved around in a frenzied manner, organizing the chaos of deciding what to do and what to take with them. While he was at it, he couldn’t help but start categorizing everything so that when they got back it would be nice and neat.

Suddenly, he realized Finn was just looking at him, so he flipped his hips and started shoving arms and armor to the boy, “Dagger… Can you figure this one out?... shortbow… arrows… leather… container...” Rushing into the other room, he piled more provisions into the boy’s arms, food and drink, “Quick, don’t drop it!”

When Finn came back, Gangui was already wearing his blue, cobalt, chainmail chaussers and hauberk. The room would have been calm except for the extremely high energy Gangui was putting off. Gritting his teeth, he slid on his tight fitting coif with some difficulty,

“Quick!” He yelled while pulling his mustache free from the coif, “Grab me my spaulder! Don’t just stand around! Why haven’t you suited up? You know what, nevermind,” The barbarian rushed into the other room and flung the spaulder over his left shoulder himself.

Finally after all the chaos was sorted out and in order, the pair strode outside

Outside

Staring at the wagon, Gangui frowned at the sight of it; it seemed to be over burdened. Narrowing his eyes at Finn, he almost let rage over take him. Taking a big gulp, he pushed away the knot in his chest into his stomach until it dissipated. No, he understood more than Finn was probably aware of. Gangui's father used to beat him for stupid mistakes, but that never helped the mud-blood aukari boy. He was too tough to learn the easy way and needed to experience the problems himself first hand and feel the real pain, not the contrived pain of his father's heavy hand.

Putting his head under the chassis, Gangui shook the axles and support bars with a calloused hand. Seemed strong enough to his judgement, but he wasn't completely sure. Despite his doubts, the barbarian was willing to take the chance at moving the over-burdened wagon. Any solutions to their problem would take more time, but he would make Finn fix it anyways, so it didn't matter.

Flipping around as quick as ever, he marched over to the two horses with motive; his quick, long strides kept him sweating, "Alright, boys, time to work!" The warrior hadn't bothered to remove the harnesses from the horses the last time he used them. Running his hand under straps, he realized it was the wrong thing to do and they needed a good rub down. Hugging their heads, he apologized like he truly cared, but still led them to the wagon without remorse. After positioning the horses in place, he hooked up the wooden bar as quickly as possible. One of the cinches was giving him trouble so he had to squeeze and jiggle as hard as possible, until it set into place properly.

Once they were done, the two sat on the front seat of the wagon, while as Gangui went over everything speaking half common and half Ith'ession, "Alright Finn, you got everything loaded up, good job, we gotta go dump this dirt in the forest so no one sees, and we need some logs. We will be working all night I bet.... Oh you're wondering about the weapons. You see, if we must take a stand on the road, we must be ready! Huzzah!" If Finn wanted to understand Gangui's reasoning, he was out of luck, because the wild man wouldn't say any more.

Placing the bastard sword 'Liberty' on his lap as if he was expecting a fight at any moment, Gangui pushed the horses on to their drudgery and toil.

One break later

"What did you do? Finn!? WHAT THE HELL FINN!?!?! NOOOOOO!" Gangui screamed as the wagon began to tip over down a wooded hill.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 96th Ashan, 717

He'd barely taken three swigs from the waterskin when Gangui yanked it from his grip. Bewildered, Finn looked on as Gangui greedily gulped down the rest of the water before shoving the waterskin into his chest with such force that he nearly fell backward. Before he could utter even the faintest protest, Gangui had already leapt up out of the hole and gestured for him to follow. Tired from the many bells of hard labour, Finn sauntered after the man and only picked up his pace at the very last moment when the barbarian motioned impatiently. One item after another was piled onto his outstretched arms until he could barely see over the heap. After he'd brought the items to the cart, a few more were shoved into his arms.

Finn's eyes widened.

"You want me to wear this?" He held out the leather armour in front of him, it was of simple make and at least one size too large for him. Far more concerning however was that the leather was also accompanied by a dagger. What on earth was Gangui up to? Before the barbarian could answer him however, Finn had already moved to relocate his shirt and put on the armour over it. The leather strapping on the armour was old, worn and suncracked. He fidgeted with them for a moment before the stiff leather was tied snugly around his chest.

He was about to ask Gangui if he'd put it on correctly when the inflammable barbarian barked another command at him. Finn shook his head in bewilderment and stared sheepishly at the eccentric man. He hadn't the faintest idea what a spaulder was but the man seemed to sort out his own business in the end.

"What're we bringin' it away for?" he piped up innocently as the moved to the cart. The whole ordeal made little sense. Why was the crazed red-head digging a hole in his own home? And why did the dirt and splinters need to be loaded onto a cart? Why were they going out armed with daggers and crossbows? Unwilling to test Gangui's patience too much, Finn bit back his other questions, though the barbarian seemed to read his mind regardless. To his relief, the weapons were just security and the barbarian didn't expect him to kill anyone. Not unless they encountered bandits on the road at least...

---

The slow clopping of the hooves and the occasional bumps in the road had brought on a wave of exhaustion within the boy. Not ten bits after they'd departed he'd closed his eyes and nid-nodded, his limp head swaying left and right as the cart hobbled forward until it found a stable position against Gangui's right shoulder. Thus secured, Finn drifted off into a light sleep...

He awoke with an electrifying jolt as the cart shifted underneath him. A loud, wooden crack ripped the air as one of the wheels gave away, causing the cart to partially tip over while a pile of sand, broken wood, and some of the materials they had brought spilled over the edge and onto the road. With a clatter, some of the equipment tumbled downhill and out of sight. It wasn't until the very last of their equipment had come to a violent halt that Gangui's thunderous voice graced the air. Finn ignored him. The weight of the cart, teetering over the edge of the steep decline, was threatening to drag the whinnying horses down with it. It was only thanks to Gangui's quick reaction that the horses were saved before the cart, in its entirety, tumbled downhill and crashed against a thick boulder at the foot of the decline.

Finn shot a questioning look at Gangui. All his work. All of the dirt and wood he'd loaded into the cart was now littered over a hillside. Surely the barbarian didn't expect him to get it all back? His cheeks, still glowing from a day of hard work, lit up in anger. "It's not my fault!" he shouted back. He was about to defile the air a great deal more, but his voice faltered.

"What a shitshow," a voice emerged from the shadows. A tall man with a longbow casually slung over his shoulder and flanked by two others, stepped onto the road. Gangui stood closest to them and was being surrounded by the menacing men. All three were of a heavy build and toting big, blunt weapons. One bore a club decorated with nails while another carried a rusty mace and yet another toted a two-handed axe.

The archer briefly glanced down the hill, smiled, and then turned his attention to Finn and Gangui. "Some interesting cargo you have there..." he spoke casually. The sight of Gangui's blade didn't seem to faze him and the superiority in numbers gave him additional confidence. "Dirt huh? We'll take the horses then..." he added with a chuckle. "Oh my, where are my manners! I'm Gouger, this here is Spitter," he motioned to the broad, bald man with the club, "and this here is Gutter!"

After the hooded archer had dipped his head into a sarcastic bow, he bounded over to Finn but never got within arm's reach as Finn retreated with equally hurried steps. "A coward then," the man sneered as he halted were once the cart had stood. "Go on, run back to mommy!" For a few trills the man smiled, then he whipped out a dagger and turned toward Gangui. "Want to have a guess why I'm called gouger?"

Just as sudden as the middle-aged archer had whipped out the dagger, he'd clsoed the distance between himself and Gangui, though he took care to stay out of the barbarian's swinging range.

"I will keep this simple," he said. "You tell me what you're hiding among all that dirt and I may just let you live. First however, you're going to put down that sword unless of course, you want to see what I can do with this," he twisted the dagger on his wrist a few times, demonstrating his skill with the pale, sharp blade. "So what's it going to be huh?"

[Gangui]

A short trudge south of Foster's Landing.

Grasping the reins in one hand Gangui jumped off the moving cart, pulling the horses with him. Not timing his jump, the barbarian crumbled under himself upon impact with the soft dirt. The two beasts leaned sharply left, screeching loudly, while the cart finally tipped over the hill. The wooden bar that connected the vehicle to the horses snapped into a dozen flying splinters. From a vulnerable position on the floor, the warrior bit down hard on his teeth and squinted as the wagon slowly flip over several times before finding a final resting place smashed up against a boulder at the bottom.

The barbarian's stomach began to turn inside out and a single eye began to twitch violently to the beat of his own heart. Exchanging a glance with the ruffled, red face boy did nothing, but cement both their frustrations. Gangui didn't say anything else, his mind tactically switching to examining the ground beneath them; the soft dirt on the path was recently dug up, freshly covered with leaves to hide the fact it was not passable. Half the road seemed to have caved in itself and slide off with the vehicle.

At the mere thought of being foiled by a simple stretch of road, Gangui hollered loudly and threw a fistful of dirt at the remnants of the wagon bellow. Digging a secret tunnel manually was already a pain in the ass, but now to be set back by a broken wagon!? How was he supposed to pay for this!?

But alas, the tragic event was not over yet. Two low-life, numb-skulls and their stupid leader decided to hold them up on the road. Slowly pushing himself to his feet as the stranger talked, Gangui's eye began to twitch faster and faster. He couldn't believe the gall these men had. Slowly he turned his head towards Finn, shooting a serious glare and motioning to the tree behind them with his eyes, "Don't get in the way, Finn," Gangui hoped Finn could figure out a way to be useful and not get himself killed.

Gouger would protest if Finn ran for cover, but Gangui would put his foot down in front of the man and point the tip of his bastard sword directly at the man's face, "You leave the boy out of this, stupid faggot," The two idiot henchmen shifted into a position flanking Gouger, scoffing and laughing at the remark. They were totally unprofessional. Gouger frowned and told his guys to shut their mouths. Gangui didn't think it was funny at all.

"I am giving you one more chance mother-fucker... put your sword down or your son will watch their father die today!" Gouger screamed, visibly disgruntled.

"500..." Gangui barked as he adjusted his helm with one hand.

"What?"

"500!"

"What the hell are you yapping about?"

"That's how much gold I figure you owe me for fucking up our wagon. I know you planted the trap," Gangui frowned deeper now, his eye still twitching.

"HAH! Trap? You mean the broken road. That wasn't us. You are just a stupid motherfucker, that's what you are, we ain't paying you shit"

Gripping "Liberty" with both hands, Gangui lifted the sword up high in a rapid, yet curt movement and sliced down, once, then twice.

Gouger backed up, "You are a fool!"

"I may take one or two of you to the afterlife and that is good enough for me!"

"Get 'em boys!"

"Hi-yaaah!!" Gangui threw a real attack this time from the hip and shifting forward three steps, nearly nicking Gouge. The sound of steel on air, swooshed through their ears. Holding back the sword at his left, he moved his feet into a different position and switched stance to account for the two other players stepping up to take Gouge's place. Now it was a two on one battle.

"Too chicken to fight I see," Gangui blurted as the two men, Gutter and Spitter, jumped him simultaneously. Throwing a massive horizontal cut, Gutter's weapon hand fell off with a scream and a mist of blood.

Next thing Gangui felt was the bludgeoned thump of a mace upon his steel helm. Instinctively holding up his sword as if covering his face, he pushed the man away with watery eyes and ringing ears. Another massive swing connected with his outstretched arm, causing it to fall limp.

Next came a haphazard one-handed slice from Gangui, causing Spitter to back up. Gutter was still screaming about his hand. Swinging his sword again, Gangui attempted to keep the man off with his longer range while he tried to refocus his vision and recover from the head trauma.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 96th Ashan, 717

Finn caught Gangui's warning gaze in time. Not that he needed it. He could see the weapons the bandits carried clear as day and had no intention of being introduced to one of them. The stalemate lasted only for a moment. Many things happened at once. First, Finn jumped into motion. He heard Gouger bark some curse at him, but the gruff voice didn't chase him, and he didn't look back. The rattling of steel and the cries that followed told him all he needed to know.

He rushed toward the edge of the road and peered down. The decline was steep but-

At the edge of his vision he saw the struggle unfold. Gangui demonstrated himself to be a capable fighter, but even capable fighters struggled against multiple foes. He grimaced as the mace struck Gangui's head, rattling his helmet. The barbarian rebounded but Finn doubted he'd be able to take many more hits like that. He thought Gangui could maybe last a few more bits against the bandits, even if he managed to kill one.

Finn stared down the slope. Freedom awaited at the bottom of it, but there was no telling how long that freedom would last.

He lowered to a crouch before sliding over the edge in a flurry of dirt and dead leaves. But he didn't head straight down as he angled himself toward a tree instead. The collision was harder than he expected and he grunted at the impact, but his goal was achieved regardless. Positioned a third down the slope, Finn eyed the next tree and half-ran, half-scrambled his way over to it. He wasn't heading down, but across, making his way back to the cart. He figured that he wouldn't last long if he came running straight at the bandits, but if he used the slope for cover, he stood a chance.

When he emerged, clambering up the road close to where the cart had tipped over the edge, he saw Gangui getting jumped on by two of the bandits while the third sprayed blood from the stump where once his hand had been. Finn didn't hesitate, he charged forward and tackled Spitter to the ground, leaving Gangui with just one bandit to deal with. Spitter, though large and heavy, was caught off-balance and fell like a great tree. The ground shook with impact.

Finn raised his dagger-arm, but Spitter caught his wrist before the hungry tip could claim blood. A murderous grin split Spitter's roughed-up face and he threw his thick skull forward. Finn cried out as their skulls collided, his frame rattled and he tumbled sideways, dazed, the dagger slipping from his hand. He prayed he'd bought Gangui enough time. . .

[Gangui]

The fight raged on. Biting down on his own teeth, he fought through the pain that his very life depended on. Mace swings were met with single handed bastard sword parries. When he did have a moment to strike, he was simply retorted and sent on the defense once again. Up and down they went, with not a rhyme of reason. It was a conflict that could only have happened between three thugs without any real poetry in themselves.

Alas, he only lasted a few moments longer before his knee buckled from the tackle of Gouger. The man clamped onto his leg and twisted. Gangui exhaled in his pinned position as the mace was about to fall on his head. Dread swept down his face like the curtain at the end of a play. The performance was not over though, Finn was there. The kid tackled the assailant who was double teaming him, freeing up Gangui to deal with the one who was grappling him. The man was vulnerable now, without his friend to help. Grabbing the dagger at his hip, the mustachio repeated smashed it down on his skull, yelling deep in fury.

"ARGUUUUU..." The crunching sound of bits and pieces of skull flying about was complimented by the man's gargled moans. Blood squirted about and leaked everywhere. It was a messy affair, but an invigorating one.

Wrenching the corpse from his leg, Gangui picked up his sword and took a giant leap toward's Finn's position. The two were struggling and Finn was about to fall to the larger more experienced opponent. With one swift kick, he knocked Spitter off Finn. Raising his sword up high he brought it down with all his strength. Catching him right on the shoulder, he nearly cleaving the man in half, but he didn't make it all the way.

"AHHH--" Gangui struggled to wrench free his blade from the man. Things were looking better now for the duo. That was the problem with these thugs, they had no tactical ability and were easily foiled.

~~~~

Already the flies were gathering upon the bloody carcasses of Spitter and Gouger. The painful expressions on their faces remained unchanged from the moments of their death. Gutter stood back up against a tree, drool and snot leaking from his face as fear caused him to babble incomprehensibly.

"On your knees when you are speaking to me!" The blood soaked mustachio barked.

Gutter shakily dropped down in submission, clenching his missing fingers, cursing the day he messed with the likes of Finn and Gangui, "Mercy, I swear I'll leave Foster's Landing forever,"

Gangui knew they needed to kill this man. There was no way he could let him go free. Gutter would only return to take his revenge at a later time. It was the sad reality of Idalos. Pragmatism was a bloody affair. Ideology wouldn't write the annals of history, but true action. What was even more sorrowful was what Finn had to go through. The barbarian looked at the boy with empathy. But empathy wasn't sympathy. Nay. It was time for the boy to learn. Finn had seen the struggle; the boy witnessed him cleave the man into two pieces right before his eyes. When he was young, Gangui had to go through the same exact experience that Finn was currently undertaking. It nearly broke his soul, until he realized the individual had the singular choice to be broken or not. Taking a deep breath, the warrior nodded to himself. He was going to help Finn through this, just as his father helped him. Last thing he wanted to see was Finn crumble into pieces for not having the masculine energy and support of a father figure through some of the toughest moments in a boys life; the moments were no feminine spirit could nurture back to health. It was the trial of those who would one day become strong.

Turning towards the boy who stood near him, he took a knee to get on his level and placed a gauntleted hand on his shoulder, "Finn," He briefly wondered if Finn would accept his help, after all the boy didn't seem to love him much, "What you just witnessed was a gruesome affair," His eyes were genuine and real, "But you must remain strong, because what we are going to do next is a very difficult task indeed. So... we will do it together, because alone you won't be able to, but as a team we have strength,"

"This man wanted to kill us and now we have killed his friends, so he will come and take revenge one day. It is the truth. He won't stop until you are dead," The thug tried to speak up in denial, but Gangui snapped at him to shut his mouth, "And no matter what these people say, they are only speaking falsehoods in other to get you to make a mistake and let them go,"

Now he drew his dagger and tucked it into Finn's hand, curling up the boy's fingers, giving him a reassuring smile, "Let's do this together Finn, I got your back,"

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 96th Ashan, 717

REVIEWERS NOTE: From this post on out Gangui and I revisisted these posts and collaboratively rewrote them in google docs. Any godmodding here was done with mutual consent of the authors.

The odds turned against him. Spitter hovered over him. The bandit's thick, calloused hands shot toward his throat. Just as the rough fingers squeezed around his windpipes, Gangui struck Spitter's abdomen with his boot. Finn didn't hesitate. He dug his elbows into the soft top soil and crawled backward, like a spider scurrying away from the fight. He'd barely retreated a feet when the bastard sword hacked into Spitter like an axe sinking into a log of wood. Spitter cried out in deafening agony as his bones cracked and splintered under the weight of Liberty. Finn looked on slack-jawed as Gangui wrenched the blade free. Before he could retreat further, the bastard blade came unstuck with a sickening sucking sound.

Bandit's blood sprayed from the V-shaped cut in Spitter's shoulder, his arm only was only attached to his romp by weak, red tendrils on the verge of snapping. Finn gagged at the sight and struggled to get back on his feet while Spitter gurgled and sputtered his final words, a wild look in his eyes. The bandit's corpse convulsed, then thudded face-first onto the ground were it remained twitching for a while longer.

Finn covered his mouth with his sleeve and gagged. He'd been in fair amount of scraps on the streets of Etzos. He'd seen cuts and bruises before, but never anything like this. Never saw a man cleaved in two, never saw the red, fleshy tubing and organs that now threatened to fall out of the bandit's side. Spitter had been at least six feet, yet Gangui had sliced through him like butter.

Gangui wasn't the merciful type, this Finn already knew, and yet he visibly recoiled when the inflammable moustache raged against the remaining bandit. There wasn't much left of Gutter now. The same face that had welcomed a dozen travellers into death's domain, now shook and trembled with the same fear as that of his victims. It would not save him.

The gauntlet rested heavily on his shoulder, but the pommel being pressed into his hand was far heavier. The dagger's fine tip trembled ever so slightly as Finn edged a step closer to Gutter. Gangui encouraged him to close the distance and put an end to it all. Not that he needed to be persuaded of the necessity to end the bandit's life, that decision had been made the moment he'd turned to help Gangui. Gangui the barbarian, of all people. The man that had struck him back in Etzos, the man that had commanded him to work until his knees buckled in exhaustion. He wondered then if he shouldn't turn again and plant the blade firmly in Gangui's skull.

But he'd seen what Liberty could do to a full grown man. He could scarcely imagine what would be left of him if he were to meet a similar fate. And so he stayed his hand and trained his grim eyes on Gutter who'd dropped to his knees and pleaded for mercy.

"You can't. . ." the bandit protested, his eyes darting left and right in search of a solution. "Wait! There's treasure! I know of a treasure! We have gold stashed away!"

Finn looked to Gangui, hesitating. “Can’t we let him live?” he said, already knowing the answer.

The bandit’s eyes lit up in desperation. “Yes, mercy! Have mercy good friends!”

Gangui coughed and knelt down next to the boy, placing his gauntleted hands on his tender shoulders. They were a heavy burden to bear, these man’s hands. “Finn, let me tell you something about these people,” The world seemed to consist of only three things: Gangui, Gutter, and the dagger in the clutches of his innocent hands, “I’ve lived in the wild and I’ve encountered many of these people and they will not stop killing themselves until everyone of them are dead.”

With a noisy breath he paused, eyeing the bandit who opened his mouth to utter a retort, but merely managed a gurgle before deciding it was better not to make any sound at all.

“They will never stop, it is in their nature. Their journey through life is riddled with pain and misery. The destination of their journey is not where you’re going. And I know something in you is telling you that you too will follow the same path as this man, being born a bastard in the eyes of everyone. But that’s not true. It was never true. This fact is simply a reflection of the darkness that has befallen Etzos.” He took a deep breath again, “It is not you, but a consequences to the decisions this man has made,”

“Only by submitting into what he says. Only by letting this trash live will you be allowing the darkness to consume you and everyone around you, will you lose. This man wants to see you dead. Are you starting to get it?”