CHAPTER V

Undaunted origins

The air about him was purely chaotic, noise permeated every corner of the massive room.  Yaz shuffled back and forth looking through the narrow slits of tall legs to see the duel. Shouts and cheers, on one hand, were followed by disappointing groans on the other. The epicenter of the shattering noise came from the clash of steel and riveted grunts as two hulking men fought for glory; and obviously the coin. 

Yaz was a short slender Erling with short brown hair and an auburn complexion; which he might add, complimented his blue eyes wonderfully. He was rather tall for an Erling, some had said that his great uncle’s, wife’s nephew was a human. That must be where he got it, he never really asked those kinds of questions. The twirling tattoos up the sides of his arms showed off his naturally flamboyant nature, which he was quite proud of. He had been watching the fights play out from near the beginning. Over the last few days he happened to make quite a bit of coin betting on the games. Every slight error and mistake seemed to jump out to him, four out of five times he noticed which fighter would win. His bets were always well placed.

None of the fights were quite as good as the one with the magic-er; magicall-er; magic guy; mage, right a mage. Yaz didn’t know too much about how magic did magic things but it was cool. He made a lot of money on that fight. Nobody knew he could magic. He was the first to get the money. Everyone thought the games were done after that. But they just kept going.

These humans sure knew how to put on a show, that's for certain. People were more likely to bet if the prior fights were interesting so it all helped.

One of the large men managed to throw the other out of the circle that had been scratched into the floor;  With the victory came the expected roars of displeasure. 

“I guess that's another win.” Yaz said with a grin. “I'll take my winnings.”

The gambler scowled. “You think you're so smart, why don't I throw you in there and see if you can think your way out of that!”

“Now there's no need to get worked up, I'm sure that your luck will improve with the next fight.” Yaz attempted to lull the rising tensions with a smile. “come now, I'll double your next wager, honest.”

The umbraged gambler’s face turned red as he drew in close to Yaz.

 “You think you can manipulate me, huh? You think you can take my coin? I'll have your hide, Sneak thief!” he said, picking up Yaz. 

Tossing Yaz into the circle he laughed. “You're as good as dead, Erling! 

Yaz picked himself off the ground and let out an apprehensive chuckle as his eyes met the prior Victor. 

“This is just a misunderstanding, I'm sure that there's no need to get hurt over this, ” he said apprehensively. “I'll just take my leave and we can happily part ways, no harm done."

His attempt at retreat was met by the several large men surrounding the ring, pushing back at him, why did even the small humans have to be so big!  

“If you could let me through, I'll just make my way to the…” his plea was cut short as a swamping hand viced his head and picked him off the ground. 

The Brawler spoke with a deep voice. His speech was slurred and he cast spit in Yaz's face as he spoke. “little man, scared? Haha! No one leaves early, not without fighting!” 

He threw him across the ring.Yaz hit the ground with a thud and rolled to a stop. Gasping he got up off the ground, and spoke. “If that's how you want this to work, then that's how it will have to happen. But don't say I didn't warn you.” Yaz pulled a couple small knives from his sheath and readied himself for what might come. 

Aggravated, the man scoffed and charged. His swinging club crashed into the wooden floor, the momentum throwing him off balance. Yaz suddenly shifted and disappeared from sight. “huh?”

“That was a nice swing but it was a little far to the left.”

Twisting, the towering man found his quarry, smiling and bowing. “I'll smack that smile off your face!” charging, swung across the ground but to no avail. 

“Maybe if you tried throwing the stick.” Yaz suggested. 

“fight like a man, you Erling!”  yelled the flustered fighter. 

“If you wanted to fight a man, you should have challenged a man!” The statement, obviously meant to antagonise the man, worked. His movements became chaotic and uncontrolled. His club began to flail about in an attempt to squash his spry opponent. 

Once the man was off balance Yaz spun his daggers through his fingers as he maneuvered about the legs of his foe. His small physique allowed him to glide around seemingly unhindered. The blades slid across bare skin with ease leaving narrow cuts across the man’s legs. 

“aaahh! Get back here!” furious abandon raged throughout the struggling man. Cheers from the crowd increased when they saw the silly spectacle.

Yaz shouted up to his foe and chuckled slightly at his perplexity.  “this might be more fun for you if you were looking the right way!” 

The swirling game revolved several more times, several more painful cuts scourged his legs, eventually with hands thrown into the air he shouted and stormed out of the ring with as much dignity as he could carry with him. 

“Hurrah!” The shouts filled the room. He hadn’t felt the thrill since being a woodsman. He admitted to himself that back then, he was typically being yelled at not yelled to, on account of his bad return habits. He was no thief no matter what they said, he simply misplaced the things he borrowed. It was a fun life nonetheless.

“Come here Erling!” the shout echoed from the back of the room. 

Yaz jumped at the call. Me and my mouth.  He thought. Look where it had landed him this time. 

Nervously he made his way over to the call. “Yessir?” 

Scanning Yaz, the ‘non-innkeeper’ old man asked. “What's your name?” 

“The name’s Yaz. What's yours?” 

“Bontu.” he replied. 

Your probably the tallest Erling I've seen.”

“everyone else thinks so too.” Yaz said respectfully. 

“hmm, Well I've got another open spot on my team and something tells me this isn't your first job. Do I have that right?” 

Yaz nodded. “I have some experience tracking for some nobles in Glefwyn. You know, cattle, pets, family heirlooms, criminals, dangerous game.”

“I see. Well the reward would be worth it. I saw that you were thrown into that fight but if you would like I want to offer you a spot.”

Did he dare do this again? the last time, he was put out with nothing but the lint in his pockets and told to run. Lucky for him, none of his former colleagues had his skill.

“I'm your Erling!” he said with a hesitant smile. “When do you need me?”

“I’m still looking for a few more people to join my team. Feel free to wander. I’d recommend coming back and watching but I will send for you when I have the others.” Bontu grabbed a few coins from the pouch beside him. 

“And here, as a sign of good intent.” he handed the coins to Yaz.

Eyes wide, Yaz looked up to the old man with amazement. “That’s very kind of you sir, but I made enough from the gambling alone to make it worth my time.”

“Take it anyway. The others will be given the same.”

So there it was that Yaz found himself with work again, after so very long hiding himself on the edge of civilization. Over the next few days He would return to the Inn, Place some bets, win some coin and watch for the rest of his crew-to-be.

Not much happened, in fact it was rather boring for the next few days. He could tell that Bontu was anxious. He obviously had practice hiding his emotions, but he was nervous about something. He was a tough rabbit to snare though. Through conversion Yaz could only put together that someone that Bontu cared about went missing; so it was a search and rescue was it? Or, just a search? Sometimes the thought of finding corpses unnerved Yaz.

Well, aside from that little knowledge, Yaz learned that the wizard; his name was Sorkin; from several days ago was the first one recruited but very rarely returned to the Inn. He sounded kind of self important to Yaz. Not usually the company he liked to keep. 

Well after sitting at this inn for what seemed like forever, he really wasn’t sure why everyone liked the fighting anymore. It’s about time that everyone went home. Bontu hasn’t found anyone for a few days and likely won’t. At least, this is was he thought until a blonde headed young human pulled around what looked like a silver whip. Yaz’s eyes went wide as he saw and heard the crack. It was unusual for bontu to call anyone, but after the one fight Yaz was learning that the young man’s name was Sam and he liked gold. Sam seemed to Yaz to be the type of individual that thought the world was always funny; which totally wasn’t true, Yaz’s world was always funny, everyone else looked too funny to think the world was funny, funny thing. Nevertheless this Sam seemed to be smiling at a private joke all the time. 

That much excitement should be enough for the day but not much later another, very large, bearded human started splitting people open! It was almost too much! After a few fights Yaz thought for sure Bontu was going to call him but on the final fight, the big man fought an archer, took an arrow to the shoulder became filled with rage and now for some reason both the competitors were being called up. This really was too much! Not sure why the archer was being called over though, he may be able to dance pretty well but he lost, bad.

After the fighting had pedered out Yaz realized he was hopping from one foot to the other. He tried to stop, really, but this was just too much.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sam loved winning, he wasn’t sure why exactly he was in Marth’s End at all, but right now it sure felt right. For a brief moment he tried to remember; something about farmers, caravaning, working; he couldn’t remember and wasn’t sure he cared. It was pretty upsetting that the large guy across from him didn’t put up more of a fight but that didn’t matter too much.

No, even worse was that nobody else seemed to want to play. He had to admit that these whips were cool, had them custom made, not sure why anymore that was super long ago, but they were fun. He couldn’t use them if nobody else got in the circle though. He had been apart of many of these fighting circles before, he knew the rules. Winning wasn’t winning if you didn’t use the appropriate rules. To Sam’s dismay the game was over. He had been called over by the man with the coin.

“Those are impressive.” the old man said.

“Thanks!” Sam smiled. “These were made by a pretty decent smith for a Job I had across the Enais Ocean.” He lied.

“Well as likely as that sounds, I’m not sure it matters. I’m Bontu.” the man said extending his hand.

“Hello, Bontu! I’m Sam.” Grabbing the hand he shook it. “So, uh, what’s this all for?”

“I’m looking for a few people capable enough to handle a rather precarious job.” As Bontu spoke the noise in the room grew as people began to compete again. “What kind of work have you done in the past?”

“Oh, you know, I like to be on my feet. I mostly pick up work that lets me swing a weapon.” Sam began to mess with the coiled weapons in his hands.

“So your a mercenary?” Bontu asked. 

“Nooo, nothing as serious as that. I guess you could say I’m a free agent. I do work when I like the job and travel when I don’t.” 

He began to longingly turn towards that fighting again. Why were others allowed to keep going while he had to talk with this old guy. Sometimes the world wasn’t really all that fair and that frustrated Him.

“Well what kind of jobs do you like to take?”

“I don’t-” cutting Sam off he added, “Just give me an example.” 

Sighing Sam ran his fingers through his hair “well,I guess I cleared out that group of ash giants in the Quinach Deadlands. It was for a small town a few miles from the edge of the deadlands.”

“That was you?” Bontu asked, his eyes widening. When word about the giants had reached me it was that Vanaway was to finally be consumed by the deadlands. There wasn’t anybody even asking for help.” leaning in bontu added. Surely they didn’t have nearly enough money to cover that job, why did you take it?”

“I don’t know, I guess it just seemed interesting at the time.”

“That's it? Thats all you base these decisions on; if their interesting?!” leaning back bontu became serious. “ Ash titans are no push over and I expect that if you’re telling the truth you have some serious talent but I need more than that. What I am going to ask of you will require a good heart and dedication to those around you as well as skill.” 

After Bontu spoke the two were quiet for a few moments. It seemed to Sam as though the shouting and cheering from the nearby men became quiet and muffled. Something within him was terrified at the thought of having to work with others again. He pushed that so far down that he became dizzy.

“Bontu, I can do that.” Bontu seemed to ease up a bit and a small smile creased his lips.

“Good, now turn around and watch these with me. I like this one.” 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Varawyn was sick of hiding, all her life she had been prosecuted for her parentage in a world in which half breeds were Pariah. This seemed rather unfair as her mother was a very successful blade dancer among the elven city of Falinvarrial in the western Peninsula of Selvora, and her father a skilled archer and woodsman, well thought of by the people of Vanaway. It appears that even the child of two respected people can be outcast and deemed fateless.

That wouldn’t stop her though, one day she would overcome the prejudices of the world and be able to walk the streets without this forsaken cloak and mask. As she walked down the hidden alleyways of Marth’s end she tugged at her mask making sure it stayed up. 

She had been debating whether or not to fight in this drunken sweaty bar fight. It was mostly desperation at this point that made her consider it at all. she couldn’t tell if she could believe the rumors or not, but word had it that this event was intended to recruit the strongest warriors to join in an epic quest. Varawyn had seen and her too much like it to put much wait into the rumors but at this point there couldn’t be any harm in it.

Slowly she crept out of the shadows and onto more populated streets as she made her way toward the banging and shouting. Once she arrived she was met by a very large group of indifferent men and, to her astonishment some women sat by and watched as well.

In the middle of the large room, a large bearded man with an axe fought a smaller figure holding a knife it looked like there was a frenzy behind the eyes of the larger man as he slapped away the oncoming thrusts. Varawyn had seen skilled fighters and fighters with large weapons but it was rare to find both in a man from the north. He moved the axe as though it was a featherweight. As suddenly as it started the assassin hit the floor with a broken jaw. 

Maybe this contest was more serious than she had originally given it credit for. Looking into the eyes to the victor, she saw the frenzy and rage fade from his eyes. He, actually, looked considerate for the other man. Maybe Varawyn could actually do this. With her long bow and a sling of arrows at her waist she stepped into the circle. 

A brief few, head pounding moments later, Varawyn was waking up. Her face hurt and there were several men and women standing over her. She pressed her hand against her face, feeling for any serious wounds. Her face felt a bit tender and her hair was thrown about wildly but she was fine.

She couldn’t help but be amazed at the shear passion vigor that her opponent possessed. It seemed to her that getting shot with an arrow only made him harder to fight.

“I have a mad headache.” she held her head and looked around at the crowd surrounding her. “What's the matter?” 

As Varawyn regained her baring she realized for the first time that she had been touching her face, not the mask that she had been wearing. 

 “That explains the stares, I guess,” Varawyn said to herself.

A voice came from the back of the room, “Call them both up here, Veln.” 

A short time later the ruined inn was evacuated by all but a handful, and Varawyn was sitting at the Bar nursing her eye with a wet cloth, sitting next to her competitor.