Rats! [Aleron!]

[DaGlobster]

Arca.

Midday.

Another day, another asshole. Daersen sat hunched against his usual corner, his cat-sized albino rat, affectionately named Prince, sitting on his lap. Of course, nobody ever expects to run into an asshole, although everybody knows they exist.

For Daersen, it came in the form of someone accidentally kicking over his change bowl.

Daersen looked up, at first confused as to what happened. At first, he thought he'd be getting an apology, but once he saw who knocked it over (A braggart of a man, no doubt a sellsword of sorts!), his face soured up.

"Hey, my bowl! Pick it up!"

"Heh. Make me, rat."

Prince hissed and bared his yellowed fangs, and Daersen, perhaps overstepping his own abilities, stood up to the sellsword. Prince leaped off of Daersen's lap, and scurried off to the side, out of the way of his master

"I'm about to, you coward."

"What?!"

The man surged forwards, grabbing fistfuls of Daersen's robes and pinning him by the collar to the wall behind him. Daersen wasted no time in raising a hand to the man's face and clawing a line of gashes down his face with his dirty nails.

The man recoiled, crying out in pain as he tossed Daersen to the side. The crowd on the street parted, naturally forming a circle around the two men. Daersen scrambled to his feet, drawing the crude shiv he kept in his robe.

The sellsword drew his longsword, and Daersen went a bit pale. Sure, the guy had scratches on his face, and blood in one of his eyes, but his weapon was so much bigger.

[Aleron]

When Aspen wandered the city, she heard it all. From the calls of marketers to the daily conversations of its residents. But this day she heard something else; something that caught her curiosity. As she walked past a street, she could see the crowd clumping around a corner. A cry of pain shot from the scene--it must be a fight--and the bustling people spread out. Aspen had seen these before many times. Usually, as it went, a couple drunkards got into an argument that led to a fight. She chuckled, shaking her head. But suddenly from in the crowd she heard a voice call out, "is that Darion?"
Another replied, "the Sellsword? I think so!"
Aspen's interest peaked, and she couldn't resist to investigate further. She meandered through the crowd, lifting her smooth white dress from her feet. She muttered "excuse me" a few times as she ventures forward. At first the crowd didn't notice her, but when they saw her they immediately stepped to the side. The few who hadn't heard her the first time looked fearful, which brought some sadness to her heart. She hated that the commoners were so fearful of the nobles. She told them not to worry with a smile, then turned her sights back on the commotion.
By now she could see what was happening. Darion, a shrewd Sellsword, had gotten into a fight with a homeless man. She saw bloody scratches on the Sellsword's face and secretly cheered for the hobo. But then Darion, enraged, pulled out his sword. Aspen's smile vanished and a look of worry replaced it. She watched attentively, wishing deeply she could join in and protect the poor homeless man, but unable to because she was recognizable. She wished for her beat up dress, and mangled hair. But she was dressed as a lady, and seen as so. The Sellsword angrily lunged at the homeless man in a rage like none other. Aspen's mind raced to find a solution, given that it was a small shiv versus a great steel long sword. Suddenly she knew what to do. With a slight flick of her wrist, a small burst of kinetic energy forced the steel sword out of Darion's hand. Is slid along the cobblestone street until it stopped about 15 feet away from him. He froze, confused, but lunged after the sword before the homeless man could strike. Aspen kept him in her view, so that when he reached out for weapon again, she made it hurtle to the hobo's feet. She winked at him, notifying him that she was indeed the bearer of his gift.

[DaGlobster]

Although Daersen was pretty capable of fighting Darion himself (it'd be a sordid, messy affair, but he was confident in his ability to win), he wasn't going to complain when his own sword didn't even want to be in his hands.

The first time, Daersen was just stunned. He didn't really know quite what to make of it, and it was that confusion that cost him his first opportunity to grab the sword. However, when it clattered to his feet, he wasted no time in kicking it behind him.

Somebody in the crowd must've been looking out for him, but he didn't even bother to look. Aspen's wink went unnoticed by him. Darion was in the process of getting up when Daersen took a few steps forwards and kicked him square in the head, laying back down onto his belly. Again, Darion tried to prop himself up on an elbow when Daersen kicked him one more time.

Was it the most honorable thing? No. This was survival.

Darion was stunned now, but Daersen just kept on kicking, caught up in the adrenaline of it all. If this was allowed to continue, Darion wouldn't be alive for much longer.

[Aleron]

Aspen cheered silently. Caught in the rush of it all, she failed to notice the fact that Darion was being beaten to death. The Sellsword groaned, and cried out like a wounded dog. Aspen put two and two together and figured out what was going to happen: if this continued, the homeless man would end up killing a Sellsword. Nothing else in the world was more deadly than for a peasant to kill one in the upper classes. She saw the blood pour from Darion's face, and his eyes were being gored shut. She hastily got a hold of her surroundings, and found a place to break through. She lept through the crowd and onto the fightif square. The two combatants were just feet away now. She forced herself between them, shielding Darion with a foot to the face and holding the homeless man back with her hand.
"Stop it!" She yelled out. "You'll both be killed if you don't!"

[DaGlobster]

Daersen froze when Aspen intervened, not quite sure what to think while his mind was given a chance to wind down from all the adrenaline. He lowered his foot, and his expression softened up.

Eyes widening, he looked down at Darion, whose face was just a grade above "bloody pulp".

Daersen didn't take too kindly to being held, however, and shook his arm loose from Aspen's grasp. He looked at her with a slightly confused but guarded expression. Her words meant nothing to him. All these peasants around him saw what was happening, they would all be witnesses.

Even if they didn't care, Daersen had a feeling that Darion wouldn't be reporting this altercation anytime soon, for several reasons.

He began hedging backwards, away from the crowd, suddenly aware of how surrounded he was.