Cyrus the Restless and the Killing of Hakan [Ready for BoT]

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Cyrus the Restless and the Killing of Hakan [Ready for BoT]

Post by redsrock »

Cyrus the Restless and the Killing of Hakan
by Verick Cedus


Kambuja himself sat in a tall wooden chair at the front of the tavern, stroking his thin gray beard and drinking a large mug of rum. However, it should be noted that he was not drunk like most of the others. Kambuja believed in having fun, but in his eyes intoxication was never a necessity. Everyone in the tavern had gathered around the gray-haired playwright as he told them his many tales of Hammerfell. His son and daughter sat happily on each side, holding their father's hand as he addressed the crowd with his poetic speech. Like her father, Iszara was not intoxicated, for the same reasons. But unlike his father, Cyrus was.

Crowns and Forbears alike joined in the festivities that very night, a sigh of relief hung in the air. Even the Forbears, who once had been on the brink of seceding, were no longer at odds with the Crown and their passive ways. Both sides came together in happiness, to talk of the greatness of Hammerfell and why that was so. The tavern was full of joyous people, with some singing, some laughing, but all gathering to raise a toast to Kambuja, a famous playwright of Hammerfell.

Then from out of nowhere the peace was broken, the wooden doors to the tavern opening with great force, revealing a dark silhouette standing in the doorway with his fists clinched tightly. It was Hakan, husband of Iszara, a firm believer in the old Forbear ways, and in secession. Hakan had been perhaps the only non-believer in Kambuja's play and beliefs. He was sickened by the way Hammerfell had suddenly changed, his Forbear brethren in particular. Hakan considered them cowards and fools for siding with the Crown and forgetting about the rebellion, and felt betrayed by them.

The laughter and play immediately ceased. Even the wildly drunk stopped with their silly laughs and cheers. All eyes and attention fell to Hakan, a man with pure hatred in his eyes and a violent motive in his veins. Cyrus at this time sensed danger, and a bead of sweat fell from his bald head, down his shaven face. Because he had been drinking, he had not even thought of asking Iszara why Hakan wasn't at the party.

"Story teller. Fabricator. Deceiver," Hakan said loudly to the crowd, though everyone present knew that his words were being directed towards Kambuja and him alone. Hakan's dislike towards the man's Crown beliefs were widely known, but no one had ever imagined he would have a personal vendetta against Kambuja himself. Ever since Hakan and Iszara were married the two men had been friendly with one another, but of course, things had been different back then. Kambuja had not written a play that foiled the dreams of succession, the rebellion Hakan so deeply believed in.

Hakan then walked up to Kambuja himself and said--his long bearded face mere inches from Kambuja's--"Liar!â€Â￾ However, it should be noted that Hakan was not intoxicated at this time, nor was he prior to arriving at the tavern. His rage was simply that pure.

Kambuja, by then standing along with everyone else, took a few steps back. Cyrus held on to his father with an angry face while Iszara ran to Hakan's side, pleading desperately for him to stop. She grabbed his arm tightly and said, "Hakan, not this-"

Then without warning Hakan slapped her across the face with the back of his right hand, cutting her lip with his red ruby ring. Iszara toppled to the wooden floor of the tavern, blood dripping from her mouth and tears trickling down her dark cheeks and onto her pink and white tunic. During the party, she had been wearing her gorgeous hair in a bun held together by a pink fastening. Now the fastening was lying on the floor next to Iszara. That same fastening was a pink variation of the same red ribbon Hakan was wearing. It was supposed to have symbolized their love for one another.

Gasps echoed from the crowd and suddenly Cyrus rushed towards Hakan with his saber drawn, a fine weapon with a golden hilt and forged with ancient Ra Gada inscriptions on the blade itself. Hakan was surprised by this, that Cyrus would challenge a trained soldier of the Forbear militia; but the boy was drunk, and alcohol can persuade even the simplest men into doing the craziest of things.

"This is not your fight, boy. Sit back down before you get hurt," Hakan said harshly, his long black hair wrapped in a tail, fastened by the mentioned red band. He was much more muscular than Cyrus was, and his knowledge of the blade was far higher as well. Any other day Hakan's experience would have surpassed that of Cyrus', but these circumstances were different. Little did Hakan know that he was about to ignite a legendary chain of events for the young Redguard boy.

"This fight comes to me as soon as when you hit my sister," Cyrus mumbled, his voice slurred and his speech impaired from the effects of the rum. He was but a young Redguard, eighteen years of age and barely old enough to grow even the tiniest of mustaches. Despite his age, he was still quite the swordsman, thanks in most to Hakan himself after several sessions of training.

"You are drunk, Cyrus. You do not want to fight me," Hakan said. He did not want to hurt Cyrus. It's not as if he was afraid of the boy, he simply realized that perhaps Cyrus' intentions had been poisoned by the rum. After all, Hakan had been an actor for many of Kambuja's plays before he got involved with the rebellion cause. Back then, he and Cyrus had been friendly with one another, with Cyrus persuading Hakan to show him a few of his moves. The fact that the two of them were on the brim of fighting with one another was actually quite ironic.

But Cyrus paid no attention to Hakan's warnings and instead began the fight with a swing of his saber that just barely missed Hakan's neck. Hakan stumbled back, surprised that Cyrus had almost landed the slash in a drunken state. But he quickly dismissed it as dumb luck and gave the boy one last warning. "Cyrus, I'll tell you for the last time, sit-" Cyrus did not even let him finish before he slashed at Hakan yet again, but missing this time by several feet.

"Cyrus, stop!" Kambuja yelled worriedly, his eyes large and scared. He started to run towards his son and stop the fighting, but several Crown and Forbear members had stopped him from doing so, even with his struggles and kicks to get free. He feared that his son had picked a fight he cannot win, as did everyone else in the bar. Despite this, the drunken crowd wanted to see a fight.

The duel resumed, both swordsmen moving about from different parts of the tavern. By this time everyone in the bar had moved to the outside, forming a sort of boundless ring for the two fighters. Cheers could be heard as Hakan and Cyrus dueled. The two of them fought fiercely through the bar, both of the men's faces lit up in rage and anger. Hakan no longer felt sorry for the boy and rather felt that if killing him was the only way to end the struggle, then he was not afraid to do so. Hakan realized that Cyrus had chosen his side, and it was not with him.

Cyrus lunged forward and tried to stab Hakan in the stomach, but the Forbear stepped to the side and kicked Cyrus' rump, sending him falling embarrassingly to the ground. Hakan laughed wildly at Cyrus, and even some of the other Forbears joined in with the laughter as well. But just as quickly as Cyrus had fallen, he quickly jumped up from the ground and got back into his stance, careful not to actually show that embarrassment.

"You fight well for a drunken fool, Cyrus. I suppose you should be thanking me for that, though," Hakan said.

Cyrus gritted his teeth and yelled with a tone of hatred, "The only thing you've taught me is how ignorn't a person you been all this time!" He saw Hakan as the true enemy and he wanted to punish him for disrespecting his father, but above all for striking his sister. Though killing him was not what a sober Cyrus would have in mind, but obviously, that wasn't the case. He charged forcefully at Hakan, surprising him with his quickness and agility. Their two blades met with a loud clang and the fight dragged on, this time to where Kambuja and Iszara were being held back from the battle in the back corner of the tavern.

Hakan kicked at Cyrus' shin and he fell to the ground once more, hitting his lip on the hard wood floor. He spat some of the blood out and then sliced at Hakan's feet. Hakan easily avoided the attack by jumping into the air and then kicked Cyrus in the stomach again, this time in the stomach. While Cyrus was rolling on the ground, holding his stomach in pain Hakan started to laugh once more.

"Are you done yet, Cyrus?" He asked mockingly, "I told you this was not your fight! I am not at all afraid to kill you if that is what needs to be done, but I am also willing to spare your life if you come to your senses..."

And this is where the legend began. The young boy rose up and swung his saber with all of his might, aiming at Hakan's face. Hakan just barely reacted in time, but even though his block had been successful, his saber was knocked out of his hands, and sent flying through the air landing all the way on the other side of the bar.

Hakan's face swiftly turned from mocking to a look of complete shock and awe. Cyrus took his saber and shoved it through Hakan's stomach, digging deeper and deeper into his skin. The blood began to cover Cyrus' hands and he just then realized what he had done. Hakan's body gave way from the sword with a sickening sound and then fell lifelessly to the floor in an awkward thud.

The bar was silent. Suddenly Iszara cried out, shoved Cyrus aside, and then knelt down next to her dead husband. The tears were by now flowing rapidly down her face, and she was even having trouble breathing. Cyrus said nothing but ran, ran straight from the tavern without looking at anyone. He was still slightly intoxicated, but sober enough to know the terrible act he had just committed. Murder. The only thing he could even think of was running and getting away from Hammerfell.

He ran all the way to the city docks where he met the captain of a ship, a man named Tobias whom Cyrus had seen and spoken to many times before when he had attempted to sail with the captain. He quickly explained to the captain what had happened, and then expressed once more a wish to leave Hammerfell, this time for good. "...ach...Get on, then," the Captain said without much emotion, his thick gray mustache wavering with the wind of the dark night.

Cyrus climbed aboard, tears falling down his own face. That had been his first chance to actually sit and think about what had just happened. He had killed his sister's husband, in front of everyone, even his own father. He didn't even want to imagine what his father's face had looked like. Despite the anger that had been flowing through his body, Cyrus knew he had committed a terrible crime. Yes, Hakan was an arrogant fool for what he had said, but that wasn't the point. The alcohol had played an important role during the duel, and Cyrus himself knew this. Though now that he pondered the events that had just taken place, Cyrus was not as sorry that he had killed Hakan as he thought he would be, but rather he was sorry for upsetting his sister and father. But none of that mattered anymore...

"I can't ever come back to Hammerfell, Captain," Cyrus said sobbingly as the ship raised anchor and started to leave the city. Cyrus just then realized that his bloodied sword was still grasped in his hand. And even though the saber had become an immediate reminder of the crime he had just committed at the tavern, for some reason Cyrus could not bring himself to drop it.

The captain walked up to Cyrus, put a hand on the boy's shoulder, and said quietly, "Eventually, lad."
Last edited by redsrock on Mon Jul 28, 2008 3:08 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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