The six youths stood outside the entrance to the Medieval Tavern waiting for instructions from their leader, who was busy eyeing up the establishment. Marz Nightcrawler had just turned seventeen summers old, making him the oldest of his fellow gang members. He'd been leading the gang known as, 'The Street Devils' for over two years. The members of the gang swore alliance to him, not out of any real respect, but out of fear. Nearly everyone in Bizmar heard of, Marz Nightcrawler. Thug, punk, troublemaker, rebel, and killer were only some of the words used to describe him by the various shopkeepers in the city.
Having a bad reputation made Marz's job easier. Most of the time all he had to do was state his name, and the shopkeepers would quickly turn over the protection money that Tegol Denair demanded. Tegol was one of the two major crimelords in Bizmar. Marz, because of his reputation, had been hired by him a few months ago as a collection agent. Either the shopkeepers paid Tegol for protection or Marz and his gang turned on the force with threats, beatings, and at times, total destruction of the shop whose owner refused to pay.
The small nation of Loris, where Bizmar was located, was governed by a half-ogre, half-barbarian race called the Aysealars. Everyone agreed that the Aysealars were tall (some over 8') but they were also dumber than the rats that ran through the city streets on a daily basis. Because of the Aysealar's stupidity, the laws of Bizmar were quite lax, making it the perfect place for crime lords, gangs, whores, and other low-life.
Marz Nightcrawler turned away from the tavern, letting his eyes run over his gang members. Like him, they all wore black, and carried an assortment of weapons that added to their mean look. It's a shame that I'm the only one who really knows how to use these weapons, Marz thought to himself while watching Barash swing a small length of chain back and forth.
"Put that thing away," Marz said angrily, "before I wrap it around your raking neck!"
Barash lowered his head, and stuffed the chain in a pocket.
"We go in and be real sweet like," Marz told his gang. "We'll have ourselves a drink then state our business to the owner of this dump. If he refuses to pay, we start some crap. Got that?"
The six thugs nodded their understanding.
A smile spread across Marz's lips. "Then let's do it!" He turned, leading his entourage into the tavern.
The lone rider stretched on his horse as he neared the city of Bizmar. It had been a long journey and he was glad to find a city where he could rest and relax if only for a short time. Before he entered the city gates of Bizmar, he spotted an advertisement of an inn recently opened. It was just outside the city walls. This might be better, he thought. Probably very few people there and not too much to worry about.
As he spurred his horse onward he saw himself as others saw him. Somewhat tall at 5"10" dressed in black, a beard and mustache on his face and, as his friends put it, a stupid grin that made you wonder about him. There wasn't anything unusual about him. (at least in his mind he didn't think so). He always tried to remain inconspicuous, for that is what kept him alive most of the time. He rarely spoke unless spoken to. He wasn't a man of many words. Those who knew the rider regarded him as a good thief. Not one who stole from people, but one who had the ability to search out traps and disarm them easily. When information was necessary, they turned to his attributes, knowing, he would come up with more than what they had anticipated. Unlike most thieves, he also had the ability to fight two-handed; something he had practiced long and hard. The rider also had the knack of spotting "things" out of the ordinary, which was what brought him to an abrupt halt prior to reaching his destination.
In the distance he spotted what appeared to be the inn in question and he noticed a movement in the trees. Normally, one wouldn't have given that a second thought, but he did. Quickly he dismounted, patting his horse on the nose, a gesture which told the horse to remain and be quiet. Quietly, the rider proceeded on foot towards a safer vantage point. Looking ahead he spotted a group of ruffians with chains and daggers in hand proceeding towards the inn. So much for a quiet and restful locale, he thought.
Normally, someone else would turn around and find another safe haven, but not he. A challenge was always intriguing to him. He doubled back to his horse, making sure he moved quietly so that none would hear him, and mounted up. He proceeded away from the men so that he might go around them and find a back entrance to the inn...if there was one to be found. He estimated he had time for the men were not advancing quickly, stopping every now and then to discuss things and then continuing on. He made it the rear of the inn, dismounted, and proceeded to the door.
Of course it's locked. Did you expect people in these places to trust everybody? He smiled then pulled out his tools and picked the lock to the door. I don't think anyone would want to trap a rear door to an inn for any reason, he mused. He slowly opened the door, made his way in and paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Definitely a new inn, he thought. Behind the bar stood an oriental, opposite him a red haired woman and at a table two people, one a man the other a woman. He made his way closer taking note of the fighter who would be able to help in this matter. He walked towards the table. "You two by the bar, I strongly suggest you find a safe hiding place, for we are about to get attacked."
"How in hades did you get in here?" Kartha asked.
Erlic ignored the woman and went to the table were he recognized one of his friends. "Hi Arcanum," he stated. "It looks like we've got company out there. There's some young tough guys headed this way. I don't know who caused what but we better be prepared to fight."
"Erlic?" Arcanum said in a shocked voice. "What are you doing here and what do you mean by trouble?"
"I don't know," Erlic mused. "But I don't think they're coming here for a good time not with the way they're fidgeting with their weapons." It was then that Erlic noticed the raven and the lady who carried it. The woman bore a striking resemblance to a group of people he had encountered several years back.
"Whatdya mean find a safe hiding place?" Kartha said, interrupting his thoughts. "I can fight just as well as any other man," she quipped, pulling out a dagger. "The oriental is the one you should worry about. He's lucky if he can even stand up straight."
"I may not look much," Chang Po spoke, "but I can do what is necessary."
"Yu're lucky ya now how to mix drinks let alone fight," Kartha brandished. "We'll handle this on our own so you just stay out of the way where ya won't get hurt...got it?"
Change Po merely moved to the corner of the bar and picked up a staff. "I am ready," he said calmly.
"A stick! You're goin to fight with a stick? What are you crazy or sometin?"
"ENOUGH!" Erlic shouted. "If he wants to help, let him offer his assistance." Erlic knew that if he was trained in the eastern arts, he'd be able to help in many ways. "Milady," Erlic spoke to the raven-haired woman, "I suggest you get behind the bar for safe keeping until we find out what's going on. The rest of you act natural but be prepared." Erlic seated himself at a table near the door and waited.
From his vantage point, Erlic was able to observe the group of thugs that entered the inn. He'd seen their type before; a group of individuals representing numbers in strength led by one who had a good sense of fighting. He would be the one to watch carefully. He could be the deadly one. They usually went around causing mass confusion; and that is where the leader could be the most deadly. Erlic slowly stood and approached the bar where Chang Po stood. Erlic bowed ever so slightly in front of Chang watching as the oriental returned the bow. A slight grin spread across his face; it probably never occurred to him that one would greet him in the traditional fashion of the East.
Erlic remembered all too well his boyhood. His birth was unknown, as was his heritage. His first thoughts were of being raised by a monk in the East. He was taught philosophy and the way of the path. He was brought up learning various talents, several of which would be extremely foreign to many: Hand to hand combat, small throwing weapons, moving silently and many other skills too numerous to name. His last recollection was the death of the Monk whom he had called 'master'. He was fifteen then. He grieved for his loss and decided to make something of not only his life, but of the life his master had taught him. And so, the life of an adventurer started for Erlic, keeping his past a secret as well as his skills unless they were absolutely necessary. Time would change that...
"Chang", Erlic said, "are you not familiar with certain movements associated with the East?"
"Ah...I could well be," Chang stated. "Perhaps if you ask what you seek, I may further assist you."
"I am trying to perfect what is called the 'crane kick technique'. Perhaps you're familiar with, or could help me with it?"
"I remember move but not all of it, " Chang stated, "but maybe the sharing of your ideas with mine may prove beneficial...yes?"
"Why not," Erlic said. "Let's move one of the tables out of the way to prepare the area."
With that Erlic and Chang Po started to move some furniture out of the way to prevent any damage that might be done. Erlic saw Marz and his gang watching as they proceeded to the other end of the inn. He probably was readying a dagger under the table, just in case.
Erlic left one chair on the floor and stood on it. While standing straight, he raised one knee half way up along with his alms totally outstretched but slightly bent at the elbows. He looked like some sort of demented bird. Erlic jumped up with his one leg, tried to kick with it. Too late, he didn't jump high enough and landed on the floor. An enormous round of laughter erupted from Marz's table. His group started to make snide remarks about Erlic's grand finish.
"Hey man, the guy is trying to fly." one exclaimed nearly spitting out his ale.
"Hey look at me, I'm flying," another said with his arms stretched out nearly knocking over one of the other members of the gang.
Arcanum and Kmitza had also watched Erlic. Arcanum was somewhat perplexed. In all his traveling days he had never seen Erlic put on such a "performance". Kmitza looked to Arcanum for an answer but Arc just shrugged.
Away from the rest where no one could hear, Chang told Erlic that his intentions were correct but his method was flawed. "In order to fly one must know balance and movement. And to use them together at same time," Chang said. "One will not work without the other. They have to balance each other out."
With that, Chang showed Erlic the art of 'flying,' slowly flapping his arms up and down in a very strange manner. "Bird does not jump out of tree and then flap wing. Bird jumps AND flaps wing at same time," Chang commented. "Wings are part of bird. They help bird LIFT. That is the answer and your weakness."
While standing on the ground, Erlic tried his move with the arms simultaneously. It seemed to produce a totally different effect.
"Hey boss," one of the younger gang members said, "let me take that one out if we get into a fight OK? I'll teach him how to fly." With that laughter broke out at the table with Marz.
Erlic had finally felt comfortable practicing the jump in conjunction with the arm technique.
"Now you try it right way," Chang spoke. "Remember mind is that of bird not man. Focus on balance and air. Do this and everything work out nicely." Chang went behind the bar, retrieved an old pitcher and a stool, brought it back by Erlic and placed the pitcher on the stool in front of Erlic. "Now, crane will attack pitcher and NOT miss." Chang's words were very soft yet strong.
Once again, Erlic stabilized himself on the chair. In one fluid motion, his arms went up at the exact same time that his leg pushed him up off of the chair. In that split second, the leg Erlic used to jump off the chair snapped out, hit the pitcher and came back in time to break his landing, back on the chair and back in an upright position. The same position he had started from. Erlic immediately stepped down, bowed in front of Chang and thanked him. There were several different exchanges going on in the inn. Arcanum and Kmitza still trying to figure what Erlic was doing; and Marz who had stopped listening to the conversation at his table and focusing his full attention on Erlic and Chang Po.
"That guy is really an idiot," Anek said to Barash & the others. Marz remained quiet while his friends continued to laugh and joke about the display Erlic had just put on. The gang leader wasn't paying much attention to his cronies. He was too busy thinking about what he had just seen. For over a year he had been practicing the art of jujitsu in secret. It wasn't anyone's business what he did in his spare time although Tegol Denair would think differently. The crime lord demanded to know everything about those on his payroll, but Marz enjoyed keeping secrets from him.
Marz's thoughts turned to Wang Nowaka, the oriental who taught him jujitsu in a small shop on the south side. He remembered their first meeting, more than a year ago. It was midnight, and the city was dark and deserted as it nearly always was at that time. Marz had been scouring the south side for some easy prey to rob when he spotted Wang. The oriental appeared to be an easy mark and the purse he had tied to his rope-belt looked full with coins. Marz ducked into an alleyway, waiting for his prey to pass. Then he would lunge, hoping to surprise the man from behind, knock him out and swipe the purse. The plan was an easy one; it should have worked without a hitch. Marz had been using the same technique for years and it never failed him. ...until the night he met Wang.
Before Marz could hit the oriental in the back of the head with the hilt of his dagger, Wang spun around, extended his arms like a bird and kicked out with his right leg. Marz felt the force of the man's foot hit his wrist; he grunted in pain as the dagger flew from his grasp. Instinct took over and he tried to grab the oriental in a chokehold. But somehow things worked in reverse, he found himself being locked in a deathlike embrace by the oriental. He couldn't move, and breathing was difficult due to the man's arm wrapped around his neck, pressing against his windpipe.
"You move good," the oriental said softly, "and you possess much chi. But, you need training in order to perfect these talents you have."
Marz simply grunted, unable to speak. He wondered what the rake the man meant by chi, and why he hadn't choked him to death yet.
Marz turned his thoughts back to Anek. He had been acting up lately, questioning Marz's leadership and causing trouble within the group. It was about time for Marz to teach him a lesson. "So, you think you can take the birdman, Anek?"
"Ya boss...piece a cake!"
"Then here's the deal," Marz began, "knock him out then bring his purse back to this table. If you succeed, you'll be promoted to my second in command."
"Hey, that's great! " Anek smiled.
"Shut up jerk," Marz interrupted. "I ain't done talking yet!"
Everyone at the table, including Anek, fell silent as Marz continued. "If you don't succeed Anek, you're banned from the gang...got that?"
Anek nodded then stood. "But I won't fail Marz. I'll clip the bird's wings and be back in less than a minute with his coins."
The others watched as Anek approached Erlic's table. Marz smiled, suddenly feeling very pleased with himself.