Season & Year
Lyndon Port. It was a strange feeling to be back here, even if the man knew it would only be for a short time. That was the plan, at least. Lyndon was the closest port to the Avalon Islands, Viktor Voronov's ultimate destination, though these streets, the streets he had grown up in, were familiar in a way that felt oppressive and uncomfortable. Everything that connected him to days long gone was something he would rather avoid, and every corner he turned brought him closer to that possibility. Still, he still had more than a few days before the ship that would take him towards a future he interpreted as bright and promising would depart. Then again, any step up compared to what he had been doing so far would be a bright future. He had more than enough time to kill, and Viktor wasn't the sort to spend his days holed up in a hotel room. He knew that Lyndon had too many forms of entertainment to offer to waste time in that manner, even if some of them were not necessarily meant for the ordinary populace. Viktor was certain it would be fine either way. He knew his way around these streets, around these corners, and, since it hadn't been too long since he had departed, around certain businesses and groups as well. He was sure that some people would remember him, though how much that would be worth ... it wasn't his to answer.
He wondered what exactly it would be that would occupy his attention for the next few days, however. He knew of at least a couple of covert establishments where one could pit their strength against others in exchange for a good little bit of prize money. The prospect appeared attractive enough, certainly. Not only was Viktor more than confident in his skills, but the opportunity to obtain just a little more experience, just a little more strength was never something he would pass up. You never knew what these filth-ridden streets could produce. They had given birth to him, after all, meaning they were not entirely worthless. In the end, Viktor decided against it. He was certain it wouldn't necessarily make the best of impressions if he showed up at the organization known as Velvet Reign covered in cuts, bruises, and possibly with the odd broken bone. Lost in thought, Viktor would sigh inwardly. Perhaps some other day. He was certain that, after all, there would still be ample opportunity to test out these newly-found skills at some point.
Turning a corner, a smirk would spread across Viktor's face, his eyebrows inching closer together as he stumbled over the sight before him.
It seemed that he would get his opportunity sooner rather than later. The three men before him, the cornered girl. It was a sight he had seen many times before. He had been on either side of this exchange before, being robbed blind by the various street gangs, and in turn, robbing the unsuspecting travelers and adventurers that passed through this place and strayed too far from the populated streets and busy taverns by the sea. No hard feelings. In truth, he could understand these guys, and if he had come across this particular scene a few years prior, he probably would've turned around and left them to do their thing, but ever since back then, he had a particular aversion to these types of folks. The gangs especially, and he didn't need a second glance to know that these three figures were exactly the type. Aggression boiled up within him, the girl on the other side of the small group, the other end of this alley, being only a secondary concern, but she offered a convenient excuse for him to exercise the power he had been wanting to develop.
"Heya", the greeting was delivered in a friendly tone that starkly contrasted the emotion that swirled within his chest like a raging vortex, the smile on his face portraying no emotion other than a serene calm. Normally, he wouldn't have glanced at her twice, but the woman delivered him a perfect chance on a silver platter, his smooth, soft-spoken voice ringing out when he opened his mouth and spoke. "These guys wouldn't happen to be bothering you, Miss?". Inevitably, he would be bound to draw the attention to himself, Viktor already being able to imagine the response that would await undoubtedly await him from this scum. He wasn't particularly in the mood for conversation, instead taking a defined step forward, which was immediately followed by another one. Any responses of the rude sort, he hoped, would be nipped in the bud, his eyes fixed on the girl not far from him for a few seconds. The smile on his face spread into a grin. These guys were nothing more than ordinary street rats. He was eager for a confrontation and it appeared like the opportunity had fallen right into his lap, the man radiating an air of overwhelming confidence.
"If you'd like, I could assist you with a little bit of ... garbage disposal?".
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A sharp gaze mustered the woman as the immediate reply to his questions came, then wandering back to the three men surrounding her. In truth, he had very little interest in her. A convenient excuse, just another tool for him to use at this moment. And how could he not? The opportunity was simply too good to pass up. Not only could he test out the little bits of magic he had been working on oh so diligently, but he was pretty certain that these guys would carry at least a little bit of spare change on them. They were little fish here in Lyndon, of course, that much was clear, but he knew that, just like Viktor himself, they were probably in search of some early evening entertainment, the man figuring they were the type to supplement their funds with what they took from passing idiots dumb enough to lose their cash to street rats, only to spend it all on cheap wine and the same old liquor. Well, not that he blamed them, but they had crossed the wrong guy to get away with it this time.
"I like those odds, but don't you think it's a little unfair?". Viktor would continue to embody confidence. He just couldn't help but feel smug when confronted with the likes of these people. "Maybe you should go and get some of your friends to join you? That would make it an even fight, at least". The provocation was delivered such that he knew the lowlifes couldn't ignore it, and the way they had seemed to try and threaten him earlier, well, he knew it wouldn't take much to push them over the edge. "You're dead, kid", was the only reply he would get before the first one raised the weapon he firmly clutched din his grasp, his knife pushed forward as he charged. There was little grace or technique involved in the way the thug came at Viktor, the man ascertaining that, with great certainty, there guys were simply nothing more than your ordinary trash. If one ignored the fact that this trash was swinging around a blade, of course.
"You call that a knife?", the redhead chuckled briefly as he stepped back, avoiding the first wild thrust of the blade the other had directed at his chest. This motion was followed by an uncoordinated slash that appeared anything but aimed, Viktor, once again, letting his practiced footwork do the maneuvering for him. Hand-to-hand combat was his area of expertise, and indeed, he was proud to call that one of his most-developed skills. These clumsy attacks, delivered in a sloppy way, were nothing more than child's play if one knew the strengths, weaknesses, and intentions of their opponents and their armament ... and Viktor could read these people like an open book. The redhead pulled his hands back to his chest, ducking with a swiftness that far outclassed that of the would-be robber. In the same motion, a swirl of water materialized around his hand and lower arm, shifting into a spinning vortex of azure fluid as he pushed himself upward, driving his fist into the thug's chin. The water had accelerated his momentum, propelled his extremity forward, and increased the power of this relatively mundane strike to a degree that the man would be briefly lifted off his feet and thrown back into the direction of his buddies, impacting ungracefully on the cobbled road of the alleyway. It had been enough to knock him out cold. Would be a while until he would get back up again, Viktor figured. Maybe it would teach him a lesson, as cocky as it was.
"Filthy bastard!", another of the remaining two exclaimed in a fashion that the redhead could only categorize with a certain condescending sarcasm as the eloquence and charm of a Lyndon native. He was quite tired of individuals like these. "Yes, yes, heard it all before. Let's end this, shall we? I'll show you what a real knife looks like. Maybe you'll learn something". With a certain motion, practiced and distinct, Viktor pulled his hands back, elemental water once more forming from seemingly thin air around his hands, though this time it would begin to coalesce in his grasp, condensing into a tangible shape and forming a matching pair of dagger-like shortswords. His expression, meanwhile, had shifted, the calm from before being replaced with a gleeful, cruel grin that barely made a mystery of the man's desire to crush these idiots, his attitude reflecting this desire as he took a fighting stance. "Come at me, then. I haven't got all day".
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