Ruffian

By Aryan Singh Nagar

Barry knew his mumbling was going to get him killed him someday. What he hadn't expected was meeting his end in this town in the middle of nowhere.

A gauntleted fist swished past his face leaving a shallow cut below his ear. He did not want to imagine the outcome of one of those blows connecting. “I am too young and too single to die here; atleast tell me what I did mate, talking is often very effective at solving conflicts. Trust me, I have talked my way out of much worse.”

“Less talk, more fight little man,” the hulking figure in front of him said in a voice that rumbled in the closed confines of Emerada’s Drop. Pommel-head Joe was the local thug who kept the residents of Wandervill safe from bandits and their ilk; for a price of course, a price most people had no choice but to pay.

Barry evaded another blow as he ran his gaze around the bar. Most customers just went about their business as if someone was not fighting for his life a few feet away, some had the gall to cheer and make bets.

Where did you go, o fair maiden of scarlet. The barkeep was the only one who could pull him out of this predicament. Things had to go wrong when Emerada had stepped out, sometimes he wished he wasn't so lucky.

The randomly thrown blows continued, Barry barely managed to keep dodging them. He was no fighter, and only the weight of those blows was allowing him to keep up, ...barely.

“If you want my money then we can divide it like grown men,” he said. As if I am going to let you have a single shard of kerrstone. A blow caught him in the right flank.

Barry lurched to the ground, spilling the tequila he had just had all over the wooden floorboards. 3 grams of kerrstone shavings wasted, he was starting to get angry now. All sound died out, he could see people forming a crowd outside to see what was going on. Emerada, please make it here before this buffoon ends up doing something he will have to regret.

“No words now, little man. Tell me if you will ever repeat that nam-...word,” Joe demanded. “What in the scorching sands are you going on about, I didn’t say anything to provoke anyone so,” Barry whimpered with a hand to his chest, trying to get his breath back to normal.

“You know you said it, don’t act like you didn’t. When bandits discuss their ploys they do it in hushed tones for they fear that Joe might catch wind of their schemes. You mumbled that word, don’t ever call me that again or I will see you shattered and ground to dust,” Joe said in his rumbling voice as he pulled Barry up by the scruff of his gray coat. The tails of the coat were stained with the tequila he had let out a while ago. Another waste of good money, today just isn't my day.

“All right...cough...I have no idea what I did, but I will try not to anger you again,” Barry forced the words out of him, his breath was finally returning to normal.

Joe let go of him and Barry barely managed to keep standing with the support of a nearby table. He was all empty of booze once again, no point waiting till the nightmares return to numb himself.

He made his way to the bar counter, using the tables and chairs as temporary supports to keep his body stable as he slowly recovered from the blow. An uncorked Wine bottle sat on the counter, his vision was still blurry and he could not make out how much it cost. Hopefully, not too expensive. He poured himself a large mug of the burgundy liquid.

Fidgeting around in his left pocket, he pulled out a small bead of kerrstone, perfectly smooth and spherical, it shone like polished silver. What a waste of good money. He dropped the bead into the mug and gulped down its contents in one swig.

He made his way back to a table and let the alcohol hit him. He didn’t know for how long he sat there, but when he had his wits back enough to think about the situation, he got up and walked over to Joe. The giant looked down at him, as his lackeys cackled about something among themselves. The crowds had started dispersing and people were returning to their tasks, their daily fill of entertainment satiated.

“Atleast tell me what did I say to offend you so, PoJo.”

The world went silent, the crowds all freezing in their place. The laughing goons looked at him in horror. Joe’s face was red with fury. What did I do no-. A blow like the charging headbutt of a Gareino caught him in the face. This was it, he had had enough. He assimilated the kerrstone inside him.

The world slowed down, the injury to his face and flank vanishing like they had never been there. He skidded away from the fist moving as if through molasses. No, Stop. He repositioned himself such that he could deal the most deadly blow. No, I don’t want to, someone stop me. He pulled back his left arm, his stronger, and it bulked up, the muscles tightening like a spring loaded contraption. Emerada, please stop me.

The next all happened in an instant. He let loose the blow that would have surely blown Joe’s head to bits, the ruffian barely even having time to realize that he was standing at death’s door. His fist almost touched his nose, he could feel the tip shattering at the sudden force. So at the end I end up a murderer, just like him.

Something struck his fist from above with a force enough to match and even overpower his. The blow was angled diagonally inwards towards his arm, canceling out its front motion and driving it down into the table below. The table shattered into a thousand splinters that caught many unwary bystanders, Barry himself could feel the pincushion on his arm.

His arm continued to smash through the floorboards and only stopped with him lying facedown and the entire length of his arm penetrating into the cellar below.

He looked up, barely conscious, and noticed an enraged Emerada lecturing Joe. He could not make out what she said. He didn’t want to. He was happy enough that he wouldn't have to live with the death of someone on his hands. That much was enough for today.

By Aryan Singh Nagar