@Melderon I'll have one made soon, my labtop is dead and my cord broken LOL and that's where I do most of this stuff on. "SoonTM" lol.
Gamer and PvPer at heart, love Classic WoW as it was my first MMO experience ever. Beginning to LOVE lore and story telling as much as I love PvP. I paint mini figurines of Warhammer, my favorite universe (Orruks are da bestest).
Posts made by Crcata
RE: Episode 4: A New Path Presents Itself (Short Story Character Series)
Episode 4: A New Path Presents Itself (Short Story Character Series)
Episode 4: A New Path Presents Itself
Two weeks have passed since Irions’ least honorable day of his life. Living conditions were harsh as he no longer possessed an income and was living on the streets, able to eat solely on the coin he had saved over his years as a guard. He had been questioned twice by the guard over the disappearance of the man he had actually murdered, a man he now knows is…was called Nero Royal, although his name meant nothing to Irion. But as he expected, there was no evidence to implicate himself and as such the guard were helpless to act. A feeling he knew all to well.
Irions attempts at finding employment had proven tough. He was not well known, despite his debacle but found jobs scarce nonetheless, specifically because was unskilled aside from his time as a guard. So in the meantime, Irion spent his time studying magic again through written material available to any who possess the coin and affinity for it. Irion was not a prodigy of magic by any means, but he did understand the basics of materializing it for use, and what Irion lacked in natural talent he more than made up for in sheer determination, or perhaps just stubbornness. Either way, Irions’ lack of obligation gave him an absurd amount of time to dedicate to practice and study. With each day that passed Irion was closer and closer to being able to weaponize the arcane, although he was still a considerable ways off.
“Damnit!” Irion yelled as his attempt to condense the arcane into his fist failed once again. He was unable to practice out in the open as that would draw far to many eyes and undoubtedly result in harassment and perhaps even a brief time in the stockades again. Instead, Irion practiced in the sewers, under bridges, abandoned buildings, and other areas that had little traffic and he made sure not to try anything to risky. Irion currently was inside one of these abandoned buildings, or so he thought it was abandoned. “You have been at it for days yet if you cannot create, build upon, and contain the pressure how could you ever hope to propel it?” A well spoken and confident voice echoed from the darkness afar. Irion was not in a good part of town, a consequence of the lack of traffic, and immediately pulled a dagger and pointed it towards the darkness of the building. “Whoever you are, I suggest you keep your distance. I am no longer the man I once was and will not hesitate to kill you.” Irion rasped threateningly. “Oh, I wouldn’t approach you if I thought you possessed that ability.” The voice laughed as a man stepped forth from the darkness, a young man although still clearly older than Irion with long blonde hair, wearing dark intricately designed robes that were not pristine by any means, but surprisingly clean given the current surroundings. Immediately Irion felt a cold chill envelope him, and a subtle feeling of fear gripped him, yet he could not understand why. This man was not normal nor was he to be trusted, and he was most certainly far more dangerous than he looked…that much Irion was certain of.
“What do you want?” Irion stated, this time in a much less threatening tone. The man simply glared at Irion, making him feel uneasy. Irion scoffed and began walking towards an exit. “I have watched you for a few days now. I can see that life is hard for you currently is it not? Some unexpected events leave you a shell of your former self? Without means of retribution perhaps? Yet, here you remain…unbeaten, stubbornly clinging to the hope you can turn your life around with magic.” The man stated confidently. “Oh I’ve had my retribution.” Irion rebutted arrogantly. “I see.” The man replied, grinning profusely. “I am Leland. May I ask what you hope to achieve by learning the arcane?” Leland asked inquiringly. Irion stopped a few feet short of the exit and replied, “I am not entirely sure, perhaps a life as a mercenary, as a spellsword.” “A dangerous job, one that doesn’t quite have a long life expectancy.” Leland stated. “A risk lessened by proper training and…” Irion said before being interrupted. “Ah yes, training! What if I were to tell you I could introduce you to a power beyond that of which you are currently failing at. A power that you could use to achieve this...mercenary life style that you seem so fond of, or any life you so choose at that.” Leland asked. “And what is it that you believe you could show me? Are you a master of the arcane?” Irion said mockingly.
Irion was made to immediately regret this as before he could react a terrible creature made of what could only be described as darkness made physical lurched from the darkness grabbing Irion and slamming him against a wall. The mere touch of this creature sent images through Irions' mind, some of his own death in various ways, others of past offenses of disrespect. This seemed to happen almost instantaneously and left Irion unsure if he was terrified, or very pissed off. As Irion gasped for air through the strength of this creatures grip, Leland spoke. “I am a master of my own fate, a trait many wish they had but almost none possess the strength for it. My enemies are plentiful yet none would dare raise hand in my direction. I am what you could be, if you possess the strength of will for it.” Irion began striking the creature with his fists, who seemed completely unphased. “Release him!” Leland yelled as Irion fell to the ground in a coughing fit.
Irion rose to his feet and looked over this creature, how its body moved and its eyes glowed, how this…thing…was the source of his unsettling feelings from earlier. How its mere presence could make someone weak at the knees. Irion was fascinated.
Iron turned and looked sharply at Leland, the one who controlled such a powerful creature.
RE: Episode Three: A Dark Turn (Short Story Series)
Will edit in the fixed thumbnail tomorrow
Episode Three: A Dark Turn (Short Story Series)
Episode Three: A Dark Turn
As light from a window shined in Irions’ eyes he awoke, a dull pain still in his stomach. Confused and disoriented, Irion peered around the room. It was midday and the sun was high in the sky, a tray of food sat beside him on a small side table and he was dressed in thin white clothing with a large bandage across his stomach and many small ones across the rest of his body. He was in an Infirmary. Irion tried to remember what happened, but only bits and fragments were coming to mind initially. He remembered an attack, a man named Lars, and an incredible pain but many of the details were missing. An investigator he recognized from brief passings at the stockades came into the room, a short older man with short white hair wearing a nice suit without the jacket. “Good to see you are awake Irion, I am Captain Jordan, an investigator with the guard.” He stated professionally. Irion paused for a moment. “Thanks, nice to meet you.” Irion replied exhaustedly. “Where exactly am I and what exactly happened? I remember being attacked.” Irion inquired. Captian Jordan grinned a little, “We are at an infirmary, and its been three days since you were attacked. Indeed, you were attacked and almost killed were it not for your comrades. They noticed your torch between those crates from afar and some men leaving the area and decided to investigate, it was then they noticed a man on top of you about to slit your throat apparently. A man known as Lars Stallheart, apparently an avid anarchist who has a bitter distaste of the local guards. You were immediately brought here to the nearest infirmary and treated. You lost a lot of blood but the medical staff here took great care of you. As for Lars, he talked pretty quickly and all of his accomplices have been detained and await trial.”
At this point another came into the room, a female night elf with long green hair and a strangely bright white robe, a priestess most likely. “You should be able to leave today.” The priestess said. “You gave us quite a scare.” Irion stood up stretching his back and legs, the pain in his stomach was dull but nothing that would stop him from moving. “I am thankful to you, you saved my life.” Irion said. Captain Jordan interrupted, “We are having a town hall meeting tonight to address your incident among other issues and would like to have you there. We believe it would be a bit more powerful for people to see you.” Irion wondered if it was a good idea as he didn’t like Town Halls, but found it hard to refuse. “Of course, I will be there.” Irion replied. “Great, we have a courtesy escort for you waiting. They will see you home and then to the Town Hall.” Replied Captain Jordan as he left the room. Irion went outside to stretch his legs and to do some thinking in the meantime.
Hours later at the Town Hall, Irion found himself sitting near the front of a very large room with a small podium and many government officials lining themselves up for presentation. “Today we are here to address concerns of the community, detail what has occurred recently with one of our guards being assaulted and nearly killed, as well as what we are doing to combat the threats our great city faces on a daily basis.” Bellowed a high ranking member of the guard leading the Town Hall, Irion couldn’t remember his name as he almost never would see him. Irion sat in a chair in the front row watching, listening to murmurs of an unsatisfied and ungrateful citizenry. Irion gritted his teeth. “We have threats both inside and outside of the city. Gnolls roaming our forests, cutpurses, and highwaymen as well, and even in our own city rumors of misguided rebels allegedly fighting for the common man. And most recently and disturbingly one of our own was nearly killed, and he is here with us tonight. Irion, stand up and make yourself known!” Commanded the high ranking speaker. Irion stood, turned, and waved but was not greeted with appreciation, sympathy, respect, or even so much as a nod. The high ranking speaker continued, “This heinous, hateful act of senselessness occurred just three days ago. An act born of ignorance and pure hate. Irion has served the populace faithfully and was rewarded with a dagger to his stomach and nearly his throat were it not for the acts of his fellow guards.”
“If we are….” The speech was then interrupted by a particularly outspoken individual. “While the attack on the officer was misguided, his anger towards the guards is justified!” Shouted the individual. This person was thin male, medium length brown hair, younger than Irion by the looks of it. “Every day we are harassed by the guards, every day we are beaten and killed by the guards. They fail to protect the roads of our lands, they fail to even uphold the laws against their own!” The young man yelled. Irion’s face turned red, his hands turned to clenched fists instinctively, anger the likes that he had never felt seared through him. He had been spit on and struck by violent criminals, fought vicious gnolls and bandits and even nearly been murdered, yet this mans words, no…the lies and disrespect…the eagerness to justify the actions of a mad man who stabbed him was by far the most disagreeable thing he had ever experienced. Irion had finally had enough. Irion stood up and briskly approached the young man as he spoke and punched him square in the face. A punch that held nothing back, a punch that immediately rendered the young man unconscious as he fell backward, head bouncing off the floor. Irion almost immediately realized he had made a mistake, as guards rushed him and threw him to the ground, quickly escorting him out of the building. Shouts could be heard for justice, one might even say for his blood, as he was being carried out and towards the stockades.
Irion had a cell to himself, though it was no more luxurious. The walls were damp and molding, and rats scampered by more at home here than anywhere. While Irion waited patiently for the bad news, he pondered on his actions, on the populace he had sworn to serve and protect, on their fickle nature, their hypocrisy, their lack of morals or even the slightest sense of duty to anyone but themselves, their lack of respect they show yet demand in abundance, their….unworthiness. Unworthy of the risks he signed up for, unworthy of the stress he endures on their behalf, unworthy of the blood he had shed, unworthy of his protection. Irion knew he was about to lose everything he had worked for, years of hard work and loyalty were going to disappear all because of one rash action. With each passing moment Irions’ rage grew, he began to sweat as his heart raced. Then Corin entered the cell, his shift supervisor.
Irion expected to be scolded, but instead, Corin looked at him concernedly as he got straight to business. “You are going to be discharged Irion, I fought for you but…at a Town Hall of all places? That's where you had to snap?” Corin said disappointedly. Irion replied contently, “You know what the worst part is? I don’t even feel like I was wrong. I was almost killed and not one of them seemed to care, they were more concerned with stirring controversy.” “Well you gave them plenty to be outraged about Irion, that Town Hall was a disaster and only served to worsen things already teetering on a knifes edge. Either way, I am here to tell you your discharge is effective immediately. The best I could get for you is an other than honorable. You served honorably for a while, you did much to make this place better and I can only hope that gives you some sense of satisfaction and motivation to find yourself a new path. Good Luck.” Corin stated with a pained look on his face before shaking Irions’ hand and leaving. Irion felt lost for a moment, shocked at just how quickly his punishment was enacted, no time to defend himself, no Court Marshall, hardly an explanation…nothing, just a discharge. A consequence of committing assault at a Town Hall no doubt, a gesture to quell the mob. But he quickly resolved himself. “I will find success my own way, live my own life by my own rules, free of the stupidity of our society.” Irion said determinedly.
As Irion was released and left the stockades he was met by a small but angry crowd hurling insults and threats at him as he was escorted out. Once again Irion felt his anger rising to a boiling point as the man he struck was among the crowd smiling at him mockingly, albeit with a black eye. As Irion began to succumb to anger once again he all the sudden felt a sense of calm and a smile ran across his own face. Upon obtaining a new change of clothes from a nearby merchant, Irion found himself back in the area of the stockades where he had been released. The mob still present and making their thoughts known. “How fake.” Irion said to himself. Covering his head, he waited and then followed the young man who caused all of this. It was getting dark, and the young man decided to stop at a tavern. Irion quietly watched as he got himself liquored up, careful not to draw attention. Irion got up and went outside and waited calmly for his opportunity to come. It was not long before the young man came stumbling out looking to take a leak on the side of the building. It was here where Irion was waiting for him. “I lost everything because of you, I am here to repay the favor.” Irion growled as he approached the man from behind. Before the man could react, Irion shoved his dagger into the mans back several times, working himself into a frenzy, stabbing many more times than was necessary. The yells and merrymaking from the tavern served well to cover the sounds of murder. When the deed was done and Irion had control of himself, he knew there was no going back now as he had just crossed a line he never thought himself capable of. Irion dumped the body in the canals knowing one of the nasty creatures that patrolled it would get rid of the body for him as they seemed to have a taste for human flesh. Without a victim, he couldn’t be charged with assault from the Town Hall, and without a body, he couldn’t be charged with murder either. Irion rented a room at a tavern across the district, burned his clothes, washed, and found he could sleep rather well despite the days fast pace of occurrences.
RE: Episode One: Typical Night On The Beat (Character Short Story Series)
Thx homies :D. I posted the second one, third is in the making although will be a bit as i have finals to study for and can't concentrate long enough to finish it knowing they are coming haha. Just an FYI, this is a roleplay series I am making for my character for when Classic Starts. This is is backstory, and will continue his story even after classic starts detailing his adventures through Azeroth as they unfold throughout his leveling process.
Episode Two: A Near End (Backstory Series)
Episode Two: A Near End
Thunder rang overhead and rain poured heavily as Irion conducted his patrol throughout the dark cloudy night. Most of the light came from the occasional lightning searing across the sky, and the occasionally placed wall torch. When the rain originally began Irion tried his hardest to avoid puddles as well as avoid the overhead rain as much as possible by running from cover to cover, but to his dismay there was no avoiding getting wet, so wet that at this point he was well beyond caring anymore and walked through ankle-deep puddles shamelessly throughout his beat. Embracing the suck, as they would say in his platoon. "At least it's not that cold." Irion thought to himself.
It was still fairly early in his shift and it had been all quiet, likely because even the criminals didn’t want to be out in this rain he thought. Irion felt rather good with the slow night and even enjoyed the rain once he got past the shyness of getting wet. He removed his helmet to allow the rain to fully coat his head. Irion had been charged with the patrol of a portion of the mages quarter lately and decided to check near the Wizards Sanctum, an area he was familiar with due to his brief time spent studying magic a few years prior.
The Wizard Sanctum stood very tall, with a winding set of stairs going around it all the way to the top. It was very much a staple of the Mage District. Upon Irion’s arrival, to his surprise, there was someone outside of the tower sheltered from the storm under a foyer with his head in a book, typical of mages. “You’re up awful late aren’t ya?” Irion asked loudly, half speaking over the rain and half announcing himself as to not startle the individual as he approached. The apparent mage looked up and removed the hood from his head revealing a middle-aged man with a receding hairline. His robes were near pristine, blue laden in red. “I don’t get much sleep these days.” the man chuckled. “Symptom of aging I suppose. I trust your night has been safe good guard?”. “It has, minus whatever I catch from this weather.” Irion replied jokingly. “Ha, well I am sure that a mere cold couldn’t stop a young lad such as yourself.” The mage replied. “Ehh, I might be able to squeeze a day of quarters out of it if I am lucky.” Irion joked as both men laughed. “Well, I suppose I am pushing my luck out here despite how pleasant the rain may be.” the mage replied while standing up. “I will leave this weather to you good sir, and retreat back inside. Perhaps I'll even get some sleep.” “Be well.” Irion replied as he continued along his beat. A brief but lovely discussion with someone, something that was becoming more and more rare as public opinion of guards crumbled as of lately.
As Irion traveled through the park and other grassy areas that weaved through the mages district he heard a loud bang of wood striking wood behind a few buildings. Then a succession of strikes, each one louder than the last. This area was somewhat of a storefront, so it seemed clear to Irion that this was likely an attempted break-in. Apparently, there were some determined criminals out tonight despite the weather after all. Irion quickly made his way to an open area a couple blocks away from where he heard the noise and lit his torch, signaling some distant guards on their patrol to make haste to him. After a brief explanation, Irion and 2 other guards quietly made their way back to the location of the banging only to no longer hear it. The rain had yet to let up and covered the sound of their footsteps very well. They crept through an alleyway adjacent where the noise was last heard into the open area in the rear of the buildings. However, no one was there. There was no sign of forced entry into the rear of any of these buildings, no damage, no weapons or tools laying around, nothing. Irion endured a brief teasing from the other guards present before they dispersed. “Someones acting like a jumpy rookie.” one of them proclaimed while they both laughed. “Yea yea, get outta my beat.” Irion chuckled annoyedly. Irion took one last look around, puzzled.
After the other guards went back to their beats Irion continued his. “The longer part of the night is over, its downhill from here.” he told himself. The night was still dark and rain still berating him without signs of letting up. The sky was cloudy, blocking most of the direct light of the moon, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Irion checked a few of the business doors nearby, ensuring they were locked properly. Then without warning, Irion heard the banging sound again. Just as before it was wood on wood, in another nearby storefront alleyway. Irion lit his torch and jammed it between some crates as to be visible to anyone peering down that stretch of walkway. This time Irion immediately began creeping towards the sound, peering around a corner into an alleyway. The sound was louder and clearly coming from the rear of the buildings again, yet no one appeared to be in the alleyway itself. Slowly, Irion made his way towards the sound when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the outline of a person laid in ambush behind a stack of crates.
Irion made for his weapon but it was too late as he was tackled from behind to the ground. The impact itself was enough to knock the wind out of him, but he reached deep inside and fought fiercely attempting to get to his feet but was overwhelmed by what must have been four or more men. Before he could call out for help his helmet was stripped from him and his mouth covered with a hand. Irion knew he couldn’t allow them to restrain him. Irion struggled violently, biting the hand and refusing to allow them complete control over an arm or a leg. He grabbed at their heels, their arms, their eyes….anything he could get his hands on. He took his fair share of punches and knees in the process but fear gripped his heart to the point that the only thing that mattered was breaking free or dying before they could restrain him and take him somewhere where no one could hear his screams. One of the men held a blade to his neck demanding he stop struggling. He was a young guy around Irion's age with long dark hair and a cleft lip. “You want me to skewer your throat? Then I suggest you hold still.” Irion paused momentarily but decided that blade was going to likely be used against him anyway…might as well be now. As soon as the blade was removed from his neck he sprang forward and headbutted its wielder. “Gah!” The man reeled back, blood pouring from his nose and then thrust the dagger into the stomach of Irion. Irions’ armor was well made but was not able to stop a direct stab from a small sturdy dagger.
“Lars, stop!” One of the men protested. “We weren’t supposed to kill him!”. Irion fell backward, feeling his strength leave him and was now flat on his back as the men stood around him, face blooded with one eye swollen shut and blood leaking from his stomach. The beating had momentarily ceased as the men argued. Irion had never taken a blade before and felt himself starting to fade as he looked upwards. “Who cares, he is scum.” Lars rasped. “We need to get out of here.” one of the men stated while already briskly walking away. Irions’ vision was blurred and was unable to make out much detail of his attackers, save for Lars. “Cowards!” Lars growled. “I’ll finish this myself!”. Lars then leaned down looking Irion in the face. “You deserve this, you are scum and you are powerless.” Irion went to grab the man but had very little strength in his grip. Lars laughed as he took the dagger and stuck him again with it in the same wound causing immense pain that of which Irion had never felt. Irion spit blood into the mans face in what little retaliation he could muster as the sound around him started to dull, and everything went dark.
Episode One: Typical Night On The Beat (Character Short Story Series)
Episode One: Typical Night On The Beat
The breeze of the night had a chill that cut through his thick armor as he made his way down the street on his nightly patrol. The stone pathway was noisy as his armor made contact with each step, and he could see the occasional rat scampering by. Irion, a young but fairly seasoned member of the Stormwind City Guard, sporting short brown hair, short enough as to not get in the way, stood taller than most but was still broad enough, even more so with his armor on. Irion stopped a moment to rest on a nearby bench. He let out a long sigh and paused, leaning his head back and listening to the wind howl as it went through the stone corridors and the flames of the torches on the walls as they flickered. It was very calming, and peaceful.
“One drunken brawl and you are already down for the count?”. Irion looks up to see his shift supervisor Corin chuckling as he approached. He was not a large man, balding slightly in his age, but capable and his presence commanded respect nonetheless. The night was young, and already an argument at a nearby tavern gave rise to a brief but violent brawl and a short break from the boredom of the night patrol. “You first, old man” Irion jokingly replied as both men laughed. Corin sat down next to Irion, breathing a heavy sigh of his own.
“So, how is Doran holding up?” Irion asked concernedly, already knowing the answer. Corin pauses a moment before responding. “He will live, but he won’t ever be back”. Doran was a close friend of Irion, both part of the same class and had grown close to each other over the couple years stationed at Stormwind. A week prior, they and a small detachment of fifteen guards had been sent out to patrol through portions of Elwynn Forest due to recent reports of gnolls in the area becoming bolder, even attacking travelers as they passed on main roads, killing them, and according to some rumors…much worse. Their goal was to show a presence to the townsfolk and the gnolls alike, however, things ended terribly as a group of a dozen or more gnolls descended upon them seemingly from nowhere. Gnolls are massive, brutal creatures twice the width of most men. The battle was short but costly. Several of the soldiers died that day, either in battle or shortly after.
Irion winced. “Damnit, but I guess I knew that was coming”. “How’s your arm?” Corin asked. Irion motions toward his arm covered in armor. “Fine, the healers did wonders and what is left is of little bother”. “Well, Doran did his duty and now it is time to continue ours.” Corin stated.
"Enough talk, we’ve rested plenty. Time to get back to it.” Corin stated commandingly. Irion responds, “Yes Sir”, as he pulls himself up and begins putting one foot in front of the other.
“Never coming back huh?”. Irion muttered to himself as he peered across the courtyard while entering the cathedral district, illuminated by the light of the full moon. “Lucky him”. Irion continued his rounds, remaining alert as the threats were numerous these days. Be it bandits, thieves, or revolutionaries wearing red masks with a bone to pick…you could never be too careful. He began checking the doors to businesses making sure they were locked properly, walking the housing areas ensuring that all is well, all while making sure to spend a proper amount of time around the taverns, just in case there were any more incidents.
As the sun starts to rise and the streets began bustling with activity, Irion is greeted with the same smiles and scowls in relatively equal proportion from the populace as he continued to make his final rounds. “AHH GET OFF ME YOU MAD MAN!”. Growing weary and looking forward to his end of shift call, Irion hears a shout coming from a nearby merchant as the owner begins to open for the day. Irion rushes to the location from which he had heard the shouting and came across a tall wooden building much like the others in the area with a small series of stone steps in the front that lead to the door and a large placard across the upper portion of the building detailing what was clearly a treasure chest. There, sprawled across the stairs Irion found a man, obviously homeless with clothes that could only be described as dirty rags, long hair clumped together likely due to the oil buildup mixed with dirt, and a crazed angry look in his eye on top of the store owner pummeling him. Irion acted quickly and lunged forward with a quick knee to the assailant’s chest that sent him flailing backward and should have ended the conflict immediately. However, the assailant shook his head and looked up toward Irion and drew a shank from his drawers. Irion immediately drew his sword, placing his shield in front of him and moving forward all simultaneously without hesitation hoping to gain the advantage as the assailant got to his feet. The assailant swung his small blade violently but was unable to get around Irion’s shield who effectively used it both defensively and offensively. Irions footwork was respectable, allowing him to brace against the attacks without much effort. The assailant, however, was sloppy and drunken. The assailant swung his blade forward but became unbalanced, and Irion used this opportunity to press his shoulder into his shield and force his opponent into the wall of the business with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Then, Irion brought the shield wielded by his left arm across the right side of his body and whipped it across with brutal efficiency right into the chin of the assailant, this time bringing a swift end to the encounter.
The store owner hurriedly got to his feet, dusting himself off in the process, nose dripping with blood. He was a plump older man, well combed short brown hair with white patching on the sides of his head, wearing brightly colored clothing, and multiple rings across his fingers, clearly very successful at his trade. “Where in the hell were you?!” The store owner shouted. “And why was this man in my store?! What are you lazy lot paid to do if not to protect?”. Irion gritted his teeth, “Apologies Sir, but we have him now and you are more than welcome to come to the jailhouse to assist us in filing a report”. “File a report?!” The store owner exclaimed. “What I want, is for you so called guards to do your jobs! Had you not been so lazy he wouldn’t have been in here in the first place!”. “What? Were you to busy harassing the decent folk?!”. Other guards started to arrive at this point and began assisting Irion with a horse to carry the unconscious assailant to the stockades.
Irion began to explain “I am…”, “Shut it fool! And get out of here, I haven’t the time for your nonsense!” the store owner interrupted as he slammed the door behind him. Irion clenched his fists and growled under his breath “Stupid old fool, were it not for me you would still be at this mans mercy”. As Irion left toward the stockades, he was well aware of the glares of many nearby that followed him as if he were the bad guy.