Beginnings of Blood [Training/Invite only]

It had been about a few hours after the time of the attack on Linedwell within the alley at the hands of an enemy adventurer. They'd both been competing for information on ruins nearby within the desert and it seemed that information was worth potentially killing over.

During this time, Linedwell remained in an unconscious state upon the ground in the alley, and those walking by simply assumed he had "gotten what he deserved" or he was some wino that had a bit too much to drink. Either way, those within Morroc town seldom helped strangers, especially unconscious strangers. Yet, what was more surprising is that none of them had decided to check through his pockets and take any valuables. In this town situated in the middle of the desert it was usual that people look out for themselves in order to survive...living in such an inhospitable place would teach almost anyone this lesson.

It was a rather slow recovery, at least when comparing this situation to other situations that Linedwell often found himself in. After a bit, Linedwell finally found himself riling from his state of unconsciousness. His fist clenched and his teeth gritted as he immediately recalled the scent that his olfactory senses managed to pick up before whatever was used on him to take him down. The troubling thing to Linedwell is that he recognized the scent. He knew that he had never seen his attacker before, but he recognized that this had to be someone he encountered before in some shape or form. This thought troubled him more than anything, because it made it obvious that he had been purposely targeted, this couldn't have been a random occurrence simply over the location of some ruin.

As he racked his brain attempting to think of whom exactly could be the person behind what happened to him, he found himself startled as a male began to speak to him from his immediate left.

"Hey, bum. You know I charge a fee when people sleep on my streets, right?"

As the male spoke, the group of five other men that accompanied him all laughed in unison. It was apparent that this was some sort of gang of wannabe's attempting to create some sort of credibility for themselves. Usually, Linedwell would have entertained himself by quipping back with something clever in order to annoy them to the point of violence, but in this moment the only thing that was on his mind was how he hadn't detected them sooner. How had they managed to get so close before the only thing that alerted him to their presence was their voice? He began to think that maybe he'd been a bit more injured during his earlier scuffle than he'd initially realized.

Ever just get that really big angry moment? Well, that was Zane right now. He had just lost 50 percent of his money because of a FUCKING poker game. This always happened whenever he went gambling, but for some reason he kept on doing it despite the fact that he would always lose at it. Kicking a rock, he was angry. He took a deep breath. Now, now. He had learned to control his emotions. He had to keep up his good guy appearance here. So, he calmed down, and returned to a regular expression on his face. Though, he was still a little bit pissed off... but he could live through it. He just... would be a bit grumpy if someone were to come by and piss him off.

Zane was walking near where that guy Linedwell was, just coming around the corner from him. He heard a few voices, but decided to ignore them. Unless they went up and picked beef with Zane, he wouldn't have much of a problem here. But little did Zane know, they would end up picking a fight. And Zane would be getting some good hand to hand combat practice in this evening...


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With a shake of his head, Linedwell slowly attempted to stand up from his seated position, only to have his face greeted with the underside of a boot as it slammed against his jaw, causing him to tumble backwards a bit before falling back down onto the ground. Throughout all of this thinking he was doing, Linedwell found himself forgetting he was surrounded by a group of six ruffians that he had been ignoring, and it seemed they weren't ones to take being ignored lightly.

Some blood filled Linedwell's mouth as the kick to the jaw seemed to cut his lip, and after quickly spitting some blood out onto the ground and wiping his face he decided to speak.

"Right now...I'm not in the best of moods. You've caught me at a bad time, so I'll let you guys off with a warning. If you guys still want to continue this, I just ask that we continue it at a later date. Right now, I'm pretty preoc-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Linedwell jaw was met with yet another boot, this time it seemed to belong to one of the groupies though. Even in the midst of these attacks, Linedwell hadn't found himself upset with these men. He could understand what their motives were, hell, he'd even picked on people like this before as well. They wanted street cred and it was understandable, he couldn't fault them. In a town such as this, if you're going to make your way into any type of criminal organization, you have to show you're tough, and if this was their way of going about it then to each their own.

As the next kick aimed at Linedwell began to move through the air, Linedwell reacted swiftly and grabbed hold of the leg, prompting a "Get the fuck off me!" from his victim.

With a furrowed brow, Linedwell gripped the leg of the male harder before raising his left elbow up and slamming it into the kneecap of the male, causing the male's leg to snap backwards, which obviously caused him to scream out. As the male screamed, Linedwell began to stand once again, the leg of his victim still being held in his hand. This action prompted the others to take action in order to help defend their injured comrade. As they each lunged forward, Linedwell prepared himself for which would obviously about to turn into a fight. He didn't exactly feel that he was at 100% in his current condition, but he felt well enough to take on a few ruffians. If anything he'd he'd impart some wisdom on them and help them pick their battles a bit more wisely.

As Zane walked by the alley, he would be stopped by a few thugs. It seemed they wanted to mug him or something... Zane sighed. Why did this kind of shit always have to happen to him? "Listen, I know your type. I've beaten at least 100 of them through my 32 years. Now, why don't you all go home before you end up dead?" Zane asked, as the men laughed, called him some words Zane had no idea what they meant (some teenage slang probably) and then proceeded to punch Zane in the face. Or at least... he tried.

Zane would duck right before he could, just barely missing him by a hair. Oh jesssuuusss... he was getting a bit rusty with fighting. Zane, now ducked, jumped back, putting his hands into fists. Heeerrreeee we go.... another weekm another fight. He really wasn't in the mood for this... or maybe he was... maybe he wanted to let out some of that anger. Either way, these guys were in for the ride of their life.

Not that their life would last much longer, tough..

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2 minutes later, Zane would be done with these crooks. He decided not to kill them simply because there was a chance he would be found guilty of killing them, which wouldnt be good at all. He didn't want to spend any time in a dungeon or anything like that. Not worrying about the other man who was getting shrekt in his own corner, zane would continue his walk, of course.. he had no idea that he would end up being mugged again. But for now, he would simply continue to head back to his home, hands in his pockets.

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