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6 yrs ago
Current Space: The final frontier. The womb: The first frontier. Somewhere between those two: the ocean.
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6 yrs ago
Lost? Confused? Lacking direction? Need to find a purpose in your life?
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Ears ringing, vision blurry, Don wiped a bit of blood that had dripped from his nose. He noted the raising cudgel.
Action 1
Don prepared to step out of the way of the incoming blow. Preparing to dodge.
[Actions 2+3]
After sidestepping, Don would come in low and throw two hard body shots.
Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) = base effectiveness 6
Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) + Combo 1= base effectiveness 7

“Big man, hiding behind a shield. Toss it away coward.” Don said mockingly to the shield thug.
Action 1
While the shield thug still recovering from Don’s blows, he grasps the shield’s top edge with both hands as it dips. Stepping forward to keep the pressure up.
He yanks the shield to keep it low.
strength D (3)

Action 2
Wi his hands pushing the shield down, he leaned forward slightly. For most fighters this would be considered a disadvantage. However, not for someone like Don. Someone like Don would know the average human head weighed about three to five kilograms. Which is about the same weight as a bowling ball. He would also know that slamming something like that into someone’s face can do a lot of damage. Someone like Don would definitely know how to strike with the harder parts of his forehead onto the more fragile parts of an opponent’s face like their nose.
Which is exactly what he did as he lent forward.
Don launched his forehead directly at the shield thugs nose.
Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) = base effectiveness 6

[Action 3]
Don would then try and pull the shield away from the thug. His plan was to wrestle it away from the thug, so he could toss it to Varius to give his companion a little extra defence while he finished up this thug.
Strength D (3)
“Poor babe. Don’t feel down.” A voice called from a nearby cell. “It’s not that bad here.” The voice sounds cheerful, but there was definitely something wrong with it.
Inside a nearby cell at a skeleton. Sitting cross legged. His bony fingers fiddling a bit of straw that had he was tirelessly weaving into a make shift hat. A rat sat patiently in front of the skeleton.
“We got a roof over our head. They even feed us once a month. Plus you can befriend or eat the rats.” The skeleton said loud enough for the others in cells to hear. “Could definitely be worse…”
If the skeleton had a brow, it would furrow in frustration as his fingers struggled with looping a bit of straw back on itself, but it didn’t want to work. “Could be worse…”
The skeleton placed the tiny makeshift straw hat on the rat’s head. Taking a moment to appreciate his handy work. The hat looked awful. Barely held together.
About five seconds after being placed on the rat, a bit of straw snapped and the whole hat fell apart. Leaving the rat standing in a small pile of straw. It squeaked and scampered away.
“Well, I got a few jokes if anyone wants to hear them.” The skeleton rose to its feet and began pacing the cell. “Jokes will lighten the mood.” The skeleton said more to itself than the others.
“What’s a skeleton’s favourite instrument?” The skeleton asked.
Timothé bowed at the woman as he entered. “Tea, Ma’am.” He answered shortly and to the point. He walked over to the chairs and waited for Helen to sit before he did as a show of respect.
“Teenagers?” He thought for a moment. He had served as a butler to a teenager before. However that employment contract grew complicated because it became unclear who he was actually meant to be taking orders from. The teenager ended up going against their parent. It was a complicated situation.
“I’ve worked with them in the past, though I must iterate, I am not a baby sitter. If you want someone who will watch over and tell them what to do, that simply isn’t me. My role is to serve, and protect.”
He took a sip of the tea.
“I will leave disciplining the child to you. I will however send you reports on their comings and goings, if you desire.”
Action 1.
Don makes a split second decision to move in toward the shield barer. Dodging not away, but closer. Closing the distance to throw off the timing of the shield thug. “Good charge. You are truly a worthy opponent.”

Action 2.
Now in close, Don went for an ear clap. To discombobulate the shield thug.
Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) = base effectiveness 6 + Flare F

“VARIUS!” Don called out. “My comrades call me Don.”

Action 3.
He delivered a sharp, hard jab at the shield thugs head.
Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) + Combo (1) = base effectiveness 7

“Don Krueger!”
Timothé Was a little nervous about the interview, not that he would let it show. Dressed in a sharp, pressed three piece suit. He walked with haste, yet not rushing. He appeared calm and composed. When the maid told him the mistress of the house was waiting he simply smiled and offered a small bow. “Then we should not keep her waiting for long.” He strode alongside the woman whom he assumed was the head maid.
“I am here for a job interview, how would it be rude to inquire about my work experience?” He figured if this was the head maid, best case they would be equals, or at the very least he would be working under her. A question about his qualifications was bound to come.
“I am sure the Mistress has done her research, but I shall talk. The Longchambon family have spent many generations working for nobles. A distant noble line, that has since lost any claim to the land they once ruled, we, Longchambons… how you say… have relegated ourselves to house staff to maintain some semblance of our once proud lifestyle. That was several generations ago though. So I have grown up training and preparing to be a butler to a noble.” He explained as he walked.
Don turned to Varius. His words struck a cord. The older fighter could understand doing regrettable things. His questions about the fight to come forgotten. This clearly more pressing.
Don placed a calming hand on Varius’s shoulder. His mind going back to some of the things he himself had done.
Early in his career, Don was a swordsman in a militia. However, after being ordered to slay what he thought were insurgents, only to learn later they were civilians. Don swore never to use a sword again.
“The path of a warrior is seldom without regrets, comrade.”
He looked up as the red gate opened revealing the opponents. He released his hand from Varius’s shoulder.
“Prove you’re a better man than you were a year ago.”
Don stepped into the arena. Looking back at Varius.
“You wouldn’t let me take them all on by myself?”
Don cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders.
“Time to fight. Time to win.”
The older fighter followed behind the self proclaimed coach. He knew he probably should have read up more about how this tournament would run.
“Coach. How is this gonna run?”
There were a number of ways a tournament like this could run.
“To the death? First blood? Teams? Free for all? Round robin?…”
“Juniper, I’ve done a mission or two for Guild.” The drunk said as he swiveled on his chair. He nearly spilled his drink as he clumsily rose to his feet. He took a swig, where more of the beer ended up on his robes and down his chest then he actually swallowed. “And I am almost definitely in need of some more coin.”
He extended a hand for a handshake to the other adventurers. “Shiki. Shiki McNamara.”
After being led into the training room and issued the challenge, Don Krueger took a deep breath. Breathing in the scent of sand, oil and iron.
“So we hit a dummy, crack a core and then we get to fight?”
It was clear that despite the cat’s diminutive size, it packed a fair amount of power into its strike. Don was also acutely aware that he was getting on in age, and no longer in his prime. Twenty years ago, the grizzled man could have fought a bear with his bare hands. This dummy would have crumbled under a single blow.
He reached out and placed an open palm on one of the reed cores. Feeling its rough texture. Pressing lightly to get a fell of the hardness and give.
Twenty years ago he would have easily put his fist right through it. Now he wasn’t so sure. Don had more or less retired from the adventuring business more then a decade ago when he lost his left eye. He grew lazy with his training and age has caught up to him.
He had been in a bar fight a couple weeks before, and won, but it made him realise just how far he’d fallen. If his younger self could see him now, Don was sure it would be a look of shame.

Reminiscing about the past isn’t going to make you stronger.

He snapped back to the moment. This tournament was the first step to getting back to his former glory. Hitting a dummy should be the easy part.
Don drew his hand off the core. Made a fist, and threw a solid straight punch. Aiming right at the core.

(Strength D (3) + Fighting Style F (1) + Natural Weapons E (2) = 6)
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