[https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/512595944613740556/1202027210215522324/SOLITAIRE_2.png?ex=65cbf613&is=65b98113&hm=a48763655006e6a58c9b4c25c1b87dd7016d51146303f5cc6b3b286f4c7fa162&=&format=webp&quality=lossless&width=499&height=499]

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Beam POV: Day 10

Current Wealth: 2 silver 11 copper

Current Debt: 6 gold 44 silver 20 copper

Solitaire had a tendency to overreact, it was impossible to be friends with the guy and not realise as much. Still, the fearful spasm he gave off at first sight of the newcomers struck me as unusually rational. I couldn’t think of many good, innocuous reasons they might’ve had to be pulling up in front of our alley’s exit.

Xangô spoke first, of course, always quick and eager to smoothe over a situation when he smelled danger coiling around it. His voice rang out across the walls of our passage like oil on the surface of water.

“Can we help you?” His smile was forced, his friendliness moreso, and both were loud enough that I almost missed the sharp sound of hard-heeled boots tapping cobbled streets behind us.

I turned, and swore. There were more men coming up through the alley behind us, all short and wiry the way Redaclans were, but numbering easily a dozen in total. They wore dark fabrics, baggy and padded, and moved the way I was used to seeing in men who were approaching a fight. It was Solitaire who’d grown up being taught how to spot people that wanted to kill him, but I had enough sense to read the writing on the wall here.

“Good evening gentlemen.” One of the men spoke, speaking with some accent I’d never heard, and pronouncing every word with about as much zest as a water cutter filled with orange juice. “I can’t help but notice that rather impressive carcass you’re dragging behind you, I don’t suppose you’d mind giving us a look at it, would you?”

All of us were on edge, instantly. We’d fought for it, almost died for it and spent hours suffering in the snow for it. We did, in fact, fucking mind. Xangô gave our answer without any need at all for communication, even while Solitaire and I tensed up beside and behind him.

“I appreciate your interest.” He replied. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to…Decline.” He trailed off as the men continued closing in, four ahead, seven or more behind. We all started moving in, covering one another. I was staring down the bigger number at the alley’s back, while Solitaire and Xangô turned their focus to the ones blocking our destination. Could we fight them, if it came down to it?

“All stats of 3s, 4s and 5s.” Xangô breathed, into our ears, “They’re not particularly special.”

Not special, but they were still four times our number. I wasn’t sure what difference our newfound level ups would make against that.

The alley was tight, maybe five feet wide, but two men could come at us at once if they got lucky. I could hold two off, at least two Redaclans, given my new stats, but I wasn’t sure at all how long that would last.

One knife might change that, or a lucky hit with any other weapon hidden in those baggy clothes.

The men closed in, and my heart raced as I raised my spear, fists tightening around its handle so strongly that I worried it might break.

“Come on gentlemen.” The man called out again, sounding almost sympathetic, ridiculously. “Be reasonable, what do you expect to gain here? A pathetic death in some dirty alley? Look, I’ll even hand the three of you a few silvers for your trouble.” His words trailed into silence, voice hardening like fired clay. “Take them, and give us the fucking trolls before we give these walls a new coat of red paint.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Several things happened, all practically at once. The first was that Xangô actually considered his offer. I heard about this later on, apparently he’d been more worried by the sight of the men than I had, because he was already halfway into his first response when Solitaire’s own reaction began.

His was quite a bit more…Explosive. And messy.

Solitaire often said that he who hit first would generally hit last, particularly when they also hit second, third and fourth. Particularly when they hit with something big and heavy. He still had the rocks on him, and he put one to good use with a sudden, over-handed throw that had about as much speed and motion behind it as a haymaker.

It was a good one, too, and at as close to point blank range as he probably dared risk. A pound of rock left Solitaire’s hand, then joined the closest thug’s face less than the blink of an eye later. Xangô insists he could hear the nose popping, even to this day, and I definitely heard the thud of someone’s body dropping down an instant later.

My own movement came before the sound even registered. I lunged, just before the man closest to me did, and put my spear through his shoulder. It was too dark to see the full colour of his blood, but it foamed out thickly enough that I was sure he’d be out of the fight. His friends, though, were closing in fast to replace him.

There was no time to drag the weapon free and bring it back around, so I didn’t. Letting the spear go and darting back from a slash, I saw a dirty knife carve inches ahead of my face as the first bastard missed me. He kept on coming, momentum dragging him forwards even as he tried to bring the blade back around, and I closed in with an elbow aimed clean for his face.

It caught him between the eyes, and he dropped like a sack of bricks. The second was on me by then, though, pouncing and snarling as his fist flew out, brass knuckles glinting where they clung to his skin. He scored a lucky hit, my foot catching on one of the trolls while I sidestepped and letting the metal thud dully into my own skull.

My legs were weak, head numb, thoughts scattered. By the time I realised what was happening another punch caught my face. Teeth came loose, blood spattered a wall, and I was falling.

Wake up, fool. Wake up and kill them. They’re here for our treasure, show them how steep the blood price is.

The words fuzzed deliriously around in my head, alien enough that I barely even believed I’d felt them, but enough to galvanise my senses just in time. I focused as the man raised one foot to bring down on me.

Drawing my own leg back, I lashed out a faster kick than his, and winced as it connected with his knee. The joint didn’t crumple, but it certainly gave, and he limped rather than walked back from me.

Again, though, more were coming. Two at once now. Fuck.

I might’ve been a sitting duck, if I hadn’t sped myself up a bit. I might’ve been drooling out the last moments of my life with a fractured skull if I hadn’t become tougher. And if I hadn’t put those Skillpoints into Strength, the haymaker I threw after surprising them both with my rise might’ve only knocked its victim down.

But I’d changed since arriving here, and so had my body. I felt a sickening shift beneath the gangster’s skin where my knuckles split off a piece of his jaw, then he was flying past to roll and spasm with pain in the dirt. An elbow folded the next, then I whipped my head away as a knife stabbed over his shoulder for me. Two more, again, always two more, and two more behind them. An alley wide enough for just that many.

I punched another, felt a knee in my ribs and resisted the urge to fold. Elbowed, cried out as something sharp bit into my back, then turned with another strike that launched one of the tiny bastards into a wall. It was almost like fighting children, but they were too numerous for it to bring me any solace, and even a child could kill, given a knife.

One of those knives clipped me, drawing a dash of blood just before I smashed its wielder’s face in. Another struck more deeply, burying inches of itself beneath my ribs, and my body just stopped.

That was the first time I’ve ever been stabbed, and it was a pain I’d not felt since the cold on that first night. A pain to drag all the air from my lungs, all the sense from my mind, all the joy from my heart.

Panic took me instantly, then terror as I felt myself weakening, and by the time I’d even realised my limbs weren’t obeying me anymore, another pair of brass-coated knuckles cracked against my head.

Like fighting children, and it was a lucky thing too. I lost consciousness from that punch, but I lived. Just about. And I kept my cognizance long enough to see Solitaire and Xangô wrestled to the ground, pinned against the hard dirt road by a flurry of stomping feet and lashing fists.

Then the dark came.