• Closed • Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Finn O'Connor
:: 42nd Ashan, 717

It was a dreary, gray day. Leaning on his elbows, Finn gazed idly out of the tall, narrow window and up into the sky. Leaden clouds hung above, thick with rain no doubt. For once, Finn didn’t heed the tempting call of nature, his boisterous spirit had been dampened in recent trials, a melancholy mood had taken hold of him. Sighing, his eyes fell onto the square before the orphanage again. The day was still young, but already a cart full of sad looking children came hobbling through the wrought iron gates. With anothee sigh, Finn withdrew from the window, headed down through the hallway and pushed through the creaking wooden leading out onto the square.

More and more children were pouring in from every corner of the land, having lost their parents in the recent conflicts and Finn couldn’t keep count of all the faces. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he shuffled past the freshly unloaded orphans and made his way over to the closing gate, hoping to escape the inevitable choir of sobbing for a few more bells.

Picking up pace, he slipped through the gate just before it closed.

“Finn!”

Old Fred had only once managed seize him when he’d bolted out of the gates. In truth, Finn considered it a miracle that the old man hadn’t given up yet, with his stiff leg an’ all. It was rare for Fred to even notice him slipping through at all.

He was surprised then to hear footsteps chasing after him. As he bolted around a corner and rushed through the streets, he shot a glance over his shoulder, then skidded to a halt.

“Lawrence?”

A broad-shouldered boy with a haughty look about him caught up with him and seized his shoulder. “Didn’t you hear?” he scoffed, “you’re not supposed to go out!”

Finn rolled his eyes at the other boy. Lawrence was the kind of name only some rich-cunt prat from the mainlands could carry with pride. For some reason or another, Lawrence had taken it upon himself to play the boss in the shared boy's room. So far however, he'd left Finn alone.

“Whu cares?” he slurred back, shifting his shoulder to shake off the other boy’s hand.

“You’re always breaking the rules Finn. You should stop it.”

Just the way Lawrence said it annoyed Finn to no end. The blonde boy sounded like he was trying to explain something to a toddler.

“I ain’t takin’ orders from you,” Finn resisted as he turned to walk away, but Lawrence bolted both hands to his shoulders and tried to pull him back. Terrible mistake.

At once, Finn spun around and slammed a balled fist in the pompous prat’s face, but Lawrence was quick to recover and grabbed him again, tossing him to the ground with surprisingly little effort. Enraged, Finn jump back onto his feet and struck a lazy fighting pose as he waited for Lawrence to charge again.

“You’ll be grounded for weeks,” Lawrence threatened, but Finn merely huffed as the blonde charged. A few punches later, the two rolled through the streets in a wild tangle of limbs and they would have kept rolling on if they hadn't landed against a pair of very large boots belonging to a far larger fellow.

"Shite." Finn cursed as he gawked up to the towering figure, recognizing the man from a redecoration attempt in one of Etzos' taverns, not too long ago. Lawrence, upon spotting the giant, promptly untangled himself and retreated to a safe distance.

Between the two of them, Finn looked to be worse off. A thin steak of red came from his lip and a few scratches raked over his arms and face while Lawrence merely looked disheveled.
Last edited by Finnegan O'Connor on Tue May 09, 2017 4:52 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 645
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Somehow, Fridgar still had no idea where he was going. His sense of direction, much like his sense of taste and common sense, was seriously lacking. He'd been in Etzos for what, half a season? He still couldn't find his way to the Pahrn gate without the aid of Alistair! Fortunately, this was one of the trials that Vuda didn't have anything for him to do. While he was hungry and desperately wanted to hunt, he had no problem taking his time in a walkabout. That was until he grew frustrated with walking in the same circle for bits at a time. After a break or two of walking the same circuit, the Lotharro was about ready to rip his hair out.

A citizen wished him a good day as he walked by and he had half a mind to bust the prick's face. Yes, it was one of those trials. Thankfully, Fridgar showed restraint and carried on without a word. Some would have thought he was going soft after sparing the man, in truth, he just couldn't be bothered to deal with screaming right in this bit. Fridgar took note of the guy's face and voice for if he was ever in the mood in his presence. He carried on, trying to find his way out of the endless labyrinth he'd landed in. With grit and determination, the hulking beast Lotharen would find his way out eventually.

It was a nice enough day, temperate with an overcast. Though he wasn't the type to bother with the weather, he did appreciate the pleasant breezes on occasion. Fridgar was adorned in his usual attire, coarse black leathers with big boots to stomp about in with the addition of his eye patch, hiding the most obvious declaration that he was a mage. When at last he'd spotted a way out of the endless loop, he bolted for it. Such relief overcame when he didn't recognise the street he was on. The sun had just finished rising when he got stuck in there, while it was difficult to tell the time of day without the sun, he would guess it was at least gone mid trial.

The giant nearly fell to his knees and kissed the fresh ground before seeing a pair of boys running along the roadside. Right, he was in public, no time to kiss the floor. He continued his walk, perhaps the Pahrn gate was this way? Then, without any discernible reason, the two boys broke out into a fight. Unsure, Fridgar couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the show - What had gotten into them? Hang on just a damn trill - he recognised one of the two ankle biters, though he couldn't remember where from. It would come to him eventually, for now he had a fight to break up.

In his usual demeanour, he made his approach and they fell to the floor in a furious wrestle mixed with thrown punches. The smaller of the two looked to be losing, the one he recognised. He stopped just feet away - when Fridgar was at the boy's age, he was engaging in mortal combat with Robek. That being said, Lotharen were a little more formidable than... Humans... The boys rolled onto his boots and immediately stopped, Fridgar snapped from the fuzzy daydream. and scowled at the two, crossing his arms.

The bigger one backed up a little, while the smaller of the two recognised him, also. Seeing his eyes, Fridgar remembered - The boy from the tavern, picking fights with his Immortal. His scowl didn't let up, regardless. "What's going on here?" he asked with accusation. "You kids shouldn't be fighting each other. Leave that to the Rhakros." he declared. While he didn't know much about the Rhakros, he knew it was a war between the Etzori and… something else, lots of children had been orphaned because of it. Perhaps the talk of something so dire would snap sense into them?

Fridgar's eye contacted the smaller of the two, he was bleeding and scratched - Did the bigger boy think he was a Lothar? Did he have claws or was he just a puss? His eye would role to the severity that his head rolled with it a touch. Fridgar had no time for the likes of the bigger one. His bag would slink from his shoulders and fall to the floor with the clank of something obscenely heavy. Opening it revealed a smaller bag in which he kept his first aid supplies. "You." the giant spoke to the bigger of the two. "Go home and pray I don't tell your caretaker about your bullying." He warned with an unwavering glare, declaring him serious.

The boy complained before scampering off, Fridgar gave no fucks. His attention would fall to the smaller boy, the one from the tavern. His injuries didn't look nearly bad enough to need first aid, it had mostly been a rouse so he could talk to the boy in peace. "How bad is it? How many fingers am I holding up?" The Lothar held up three scarred claws. While he wasn't medically trained, he'd had enough concussions to know the symptoms. "So, Immortals weren't enough for you, huh?" he would ask sarcastically while sorting through the bag.

Whether the boy confessed to knowing that he was marked or not, he would wrap the scratched arm with a roll of bandage with the boy's permission. His work was shoddy, but it would save from being irritant or painful. "if you're gonna keep throwing yourself in these situations, then you'd best learn to fight properly." LIKE A BEAST FROM THE GUATHREL SAVANNAH rang through his head along with the urge to roar in a show of force. He resisted the temptation and looked to the boy, how was he holding up?
word count: 996
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Finn O'Connor
:: 42nd Ashan, 717

"He hit me first!" Lawrence whined. The boy was on the verge of pointing out that Finn was the one who'd broken the rules when he caught sight of the damning look send his way by the Lothar. Shriveling, Lawrence retreated a few more paces before whirling around and disappearing the way he came.

"Thanks very much," Finn groveled as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I had him...now he'll be yapping to Ms. Guffaw that I dunched im..." Finn's voice trailed off as he watched Lawrence disappear around a corner, then turned to face Fridgar again and puffed his cheeks. If the Lothar thought he'd receive any gratitude from the roughed-up orphan, he was sorely mistaken. "I dun need that," Finn nudged his head towards the medical supplies the Lothar carried with him, but his arm had already been wrapped in a clumsy bandage and he made no effort to pull it off.

The pedestrians that had halted their step at the sight of the scuffle shot a few curious glances at the boy and the giant. The contrast couldn't possibly be greater.

Finn gave Fridgar an incredulous look. "You don't...you don't know how ta count?" Truth be told, he hadn't thought Fridgar to be the brightest candle anyway, but neither had he considered that the man was incapable of counting his own claws. Worse still, Fridgar mentioned The Forbidden Word as though they were having an idle chat about the weather. Finn stomped down on the giant's toes and let out a low "sssh!" No one needed to know that an Immortal had been in the city or that Finn had stood in the presence of one and had not made an attempt to kill her. "Shut yer gob will ya?" he hissed.

He was about to turn away when the Lothar made a poorly veiled offer. Finn arched an eyebrow at the giant and sized him up. "Nah, I'm fine man," he teased, "as if you know a bloody ting about fightin'"
word count: 355
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Had Fridgar detected a hint of sass? It certainly sounded that way. The boy before him sarcastically thanked him and explained why Fridgar's 'rescue' was a crummy one. Fortunately, he hadn't intended to rescue the boy, just get him alone. A human child fighting with another was nothing to raise the alarm about, kids were scrappy by nature. No, he'd more sought to ask about Ilaren when dealing with the human. And ask he did.

Again, Fridgar was in luck. The boy was pretty good at wearing his heart on his sleeve, he didn't like Fridgar using the word 'Immortal', Fridgar wondered why? With a reaction like that, it was pretty likely that the boy knew exactly what he was talking about and Fridgar was satisfied... ish. "I do know how to count." The giant declared with a tilt of his head, focussing his large brown Iris on the tiny human. "All the way to ten." He declared with a smirk, surely, the boy hadn't been expecting a man like Fridgar to be the more intelligent of the two. In truth, Fridgar was a perceptive genius. Alistair had faith in his ability to learn if no one else. Fridgar just wasn't educated like his brothers and sisters. While they learned the alphabet and how to count, he learned the strength of the bear, the endurance of the stallion beneath the starry skies - casual stuff.

When the boy spoke his final sentence, both of his eyebrows would raise as if to ask 'are you sure about that'? Fridgar would exhale through his teeth and fangs, hanging his head as he puzzled for how to handle the situation thrown to him. Normally, being challenged meant that someone had to die, his spark demanded it. His identity as the alpha would be recognised among any that dared question his might. The energy within him bubbled and boiled in protest of the reluctance he showed. Surely, this was a challenge that could be resolved without violence? The Lothar looked him in the eye and spoke "What, you thought I was going to teach you to fight?" asked the giant with a smirk.

"Nah, you're too shrimpy for my combat." He started to antagonize. "Maybe some techniques from the Tunawa will better suit you." He bared his fangs in a toothy grin. Now, if that hadn't riled the boy up, then Fridgar had been wrong about him. He looked through his eyes for a sign of hurt pride before carrying on "Go on then, have a swing." Fridgar held up his paw, defining a target for the orphan. Of course, he deliberately left his face and head open for attack, too. Should the boy swing for his head and not the palm, he'd find himself with hurt knuckles, bruised at most. The face, less so, but still injured.

All the while Fridgar mocked the boy, he paid no attention to the people around him. He saw no threat, just civilians that could stare if they so wished. By now, he'd grown used to the eyes that settled on him in wonder, tracing the scars that marked him and pondering how a man could live through such injuries. If anything, he liked the influence.
word count: 548
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Finnegan O'Connor
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Finn O'Connor
:: 42nd Ashan, 717

A pained expression came over Finn’s face. He hated to admit it to anyone, but Lawrence had landed some solid punches on him in their brief kerfuffle. "You don't have to look after me just cause that woman", he refused to call her an Immortal, "said so. Ahh.." he clenched his teeth as he bit back a throb in his jaw. "If you wanna help, ask her if she can stop cursing people for no reason." He didn't expect Fridgar to oblige but neither did it hurt to ask. Besides, as much as he disliked Ilaren, he couldn't deny feeling some curiosity about the Immortal and the mark she'd left in Fridgar's forearm.

"The Tunawa?" Finn's voice cracked in utter disbelief as he pulled himself free from Fridgar's medical care. "Just 'cause you're big an' all doesn't mean...doesn't mean!" Fridgar would never find out what it didn't mean as Finn defiled the air with his best Ith'ession insults. Fridgar didn't need to pose his challenge twice for the fuming orphan to take the bait. Finn took a pace back and prepared a mighty swing of his right arm and-

Leapt forward! But no hateful little fist ever struck Fridgar's iron skin. Instead, Finn planted one of his feet between the Lothar's legs. A devilish smirk was the only warning the giant ever got before his foot shot up, aiming right for the nutcracker...

ooc: up to you whet it his or not. Sorry for the short post. It's better than nothing, innit?
Last edited by Finnegan O'Connor on Wed May 24, 2017 6:06 am, edited 3 times in total. word count: 276
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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The Lothar mused "No." He replied somewhat concerned with the boys constipated expression. "I don't. Her domains aren't babysitting funny enough." He couldn't help but grin at the child, Fridgar thought himself to be funny, but that pride didn't last. "But I'm still here, right? Us 'puppets' aren't all that bad." Fridgar explained with a turn of his right palm, beholding his mark. To the casual onlooker, the mark appeared as any other scar that covered his visible skin, albeit a neat one. "Of course, I might just be saying that to lure you into a trap and sacrifice you to her." The Lothar laughed as if to bask in tge ridiculousness of his claim. "Relax." Fridgar spoke when the boy didn't get his joke. "I don't actually do stuff like that." He assured the boy.

When he'd at last broken the child, he half grinned. He had a fiery temper, that was for sure. An admirable trait that the two shared, not to take crap from anyone. Fridgar wondered if the boy would be as protective of his loved ones? Still, he'd gotten the boy riled up. He leaped back and readied his strongest strike, charging himself like some sort of berserker. Fridgar grinned, ready to catch the boy's fist, wherever he aimed. Only, the boy didn't throw a punch. Instead, the ratbag swung his leg in a full arc, straight for his delicate parts. Well played Came the arrogant Lothar's thoughts as he immediately reached down, in a frantic effort to preserve his family jewels.

...

The boy's foot landed it's mark, only not as hard as the kid had hoped. Fridgar's paw had caught him just a little too late and absorbed some of the force behind the strike. Granted, a lot of it still channelled to less pleasant areas. Fridgar exhaled in agony through closed lips with a wide eye; if only he'd seen it sooner. Fridgar's eyes traced the length of the leg he held to the little devil that had struck him where no man deserved to be struck. "I..." He started, his voice high and raspy. "I've met snakes that kick harder than you..." He muttered before releasing the boy and falling to his right. Reflexively, he curled up and hoped to die.
word count: 398
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Finn O'Connor
:: 42nd Ashan, 717

He struck gold and the impressively large Lothar fell to the side, his weight shaking the ground. Finn's brows darted up in amazement while his lips curled into a faint smirk. It was almost too easy...Perhaps this was the kind of trap Fridgar had been talking about earlier? Tempting though it was to plant his foot on the Lothar's chest and pump his fist in victory, Finn remained cautious. The moment Fridgar caught his leg, he'd expected the giant to take him down too, but instead the hairy follower had simply let go.

"Crap..." Finn lowered his fists and sauntered over to the man's side. "Are you alright? I'm sorry..." he added feebly, hoping against hope that the bear want plotting some kind of revenge against him. "Here," he stretched out his small hands in an offer to help the downed boar back up, not that he would be able to pull that kind of weight, but that didn't matter. "Just as a word of warning, it's not the best idea to boast about immortals here. Most people here don't like them much. Can't say I like that woman much either. She said she cursed me..."

He puffed his cheeks as he gave up on trying to hoist Fridgar back up and simply sat down beside the freakishly large man as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His eyes flicked to the side and turned focused on some distant point. "I don't know why though...everyone always thinks I do everything wrong, apparently. Except for you perhaps," he smiled briefly. "Unless you're about to tell me I should've hit you somewhere else..? Anyway," he got up again, "I believe I owe you an orange juice still, then you can tell me about the snakes you fought..."
word count: 316
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Fridgar's whole world had become enveloped in agony. A horrible dull ache blossomed in his chest, channelling through his core. Meanwhile, the area of impact stung and churned, if he didn't know any better, he'd have said that they were broken! In his limbo of pain, only two things existed; his obvious anguish and injured pride. Fridgar, enemy of the throne, defeated by some ten-year-old human in a single blow.

The giant couldn't even muster a groan to express his despair, only raspy breaths escaped his injured form. He could barely hear the boy as he spoke, his attention more focused on the tormenting ache that seemed to grip his whole body, professing that he'd messed up. With great courage and determination, Fridgar removed a shielding paw from his wounds and reached, shakily, into his pocket. He would sift through a few totems, searching for the one he needed. When his fingers ran over the figurine of the crocodile, he shifted over to what used to be his finger.

To the human boy, the beast's skin would seem to ripple in a singular wave, refreshing him somewhat to appear less agonised and more docile. Fridgar had cast Chrysalis with a refresh of his form. The pain soon faded, whatever damage the boy had done to his lower region had dissipated. Interesting, the Lothar hadn't considered prior to his injury that the ability would work as pain relief. Still though, his spark protested with a vile shriek deep within his soul. Becoming was still off limits, it would seem.

The boy tried to help him up and Fridgar looked to him with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed. "What? You're gonna whack me in the balls then try and help me up?" Fridgar rolled onto his behind and pressed into the floor with his palms before dragging his legs underneath him to push himself up. When he stood, he appeared completely unharmed, except for a little dirty. Fridgar patted himself down, poofing clouds of loose dirt into the air. "You ought'a make a decision and stick to it!" he scalded. While Fridgar didn't seem too upset about being struck down by a child, he seemed rather concerned with the boy's decision making.

Fridgar's claws would run through his brown mane as the boy spoke. It's not the best idea to boast about immortals here he spoke and Fridgar nodded. "I know that, but that's like telling a bear not to annoy the elk. I don't care much for the opinions of humans, they have yet to stop me from doing what I want." Fridgar would cast his one eye to a passer-by whom made brief eye contact before shitting themselves and walking faster. His mutation played a part in annoying the Lothar, but it wasn't too significant a change. "I don't think she'd curse a kid, kid." Fridgar explained with a turn of his paw.

Fridgar bellowed with laughter "An orange juice? Isn't it a bit early for the hard stuff, boy?" The sarcasm had already started. The snakes that Fridgar had fought however... Fridgar cringed. "Before I tell you about the snakes I've fought, you don't owe me any drinks. You won the fight, so I've gotta buy you one. Those 'the rules." Fridgar explained with a roll of his shoulders. As the pair walked off, Finn leading the way, Fridgar spoke "So, Those snakes..." The Lotharro started his story of how he'd nearly been eaten by an anaconda in the city of Andaris, a long ways from here.
word count: 613
Whenever one finds oneself inclined to bitterness, it is a sign of emotional failure.
-- Bertrand Russell
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Scraps and scabs (Fridgar)

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Finn O’Connor


Knowledge:

Acrobatics: Leaping out a window
Acrobatics: Spinning out of a hold
Detection: Spotting Lawrence
Deception: aiming to hit in unexpected areas.
Discipline: Stick to your guns
Endurance: Holding in the sobbing
Endurance: bloody lip
Endurance: Talking so solid hits for Lawrence
Etiquette: Offer help even when you can’t.
Etiquette: I owe you a juice.
Intimidation: I don’t follow no bodies rules
Intimidation: Having the audacity to imply Fridgar can’t fight
Investigation: This dude can’t even count
unarmed: Spinning punch
Unarmed: Lazy fighting pose
Unarmed: Wild tangle of limbs
Unarmed: Going for his nutcracker
Mathematics: can’t keep count of the faces
Old Fred: When will he ever give up
Lawrence: Thinks he’s the boss
Fridgar: can only count to ten
Fridgar: Thinks you should fight with Tunawa
Fridgar: was eaten by an Anaconda
Ilaren: her domain is not Babysitting


Loot: 
N/A
Injuries: 
nothing that isn’t already healed by your next thread.
Fame:
-2 starting a fight in public
Magic:
These points can NOT be used for Domain Magic
Devotion:
N/A

Story: 
5/5
Collaboration:
5/5
Structure:
5/5


Fridgar


Knowledge:

Becoming: Casing Chrysalis for pain relief
Discipline: Resisting the urge to Roar
Discipline: Stick to your guns
Endurance: just one of those days
Endurance: Getting kicked in the junk by a little punk
Endurance: the ultimate blow to your pride
Etiquette: Loser buys the drinks
Investigation: The younger boy is losing this fight
Investigation: I remember this kid from somewhere
Interrogation: Who started this fight?
Interrogation: Guilting children into telling what they know
Intimidation: Threating to tell a child’s caretaker
Navigation: Wandering about until your run into something
Navigation: Its hard with out Alistair
Navigation: Two boys fighting, a sign of civilization
Medicine: How many fingers am I holding up
Psychology: Reverse psychology works wonders on children
Storytelling: The one about the Giant Anaconda
Unarmed: Blocking a hit to the nads, but not well enough
Finn: Tenacious little runt
Ilaren: her domain is not Babysitting
Etzos: Don’t like it when you talk about immortals


Loot: 
N/A
Injuries: 
N/A
Fame:
N/A
Magic:
These points can be used for Becoming
Devotion:
N/A

Story: 
5/5
Collaboration:
5/5
Structure:
5/5




Notes: Very fun and cute thread guys :) Although I have to say… whats this about implying that Tunawa aren’t strong…I take offence to that >__> Especially coming from a guy who had to use magic to heal from getting sacked by a 12 year old. Also I’m very soon this took so long.. right after claiming this my internet went out.

Art credit to Yoshitaka Amano
word count: 446
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