Durgins Disappearance Pt 2 of 3

Durgin and the slaves were loaded into large cells.  These were hardwood cells with iron bars.  No chance in escaping one of these. After a weeks journey, they entered into a beautiful but rocky landscape full of large boulders and not many trees.  Durgin had never seen as much rainfall in a long journey before.  Arriving at an enormous stone fortress, set into the face of a mountainside, the convoy passed thru the large gate entryway.  Durgin watched as the large iron and wood portcullis was lowered.  Several heavily armed guards stood watch everywhere. 

”My name, dogs, is Capt. Steel.  You’ll know it and know it well.  Do as you’re told and you’ll be fed and clothed well.  Disobey and you’ll feel the lash in ways you motherless curs nightmares can scare you,” yelled the Captain as he walked back and forth, looking at each slave.

All dropped their eyes as the Captain passed by them, all except Durgin, who held his head firm and steady as if back in the army.

”Well well what do we have here?  Either you’re stupid military or need of a good beating already dog!” yelled Capt. Steel as he got up in Durgin’s face, nose to nose.

”What do you call yourself dog?” asked the Captain as he glared into Durgin’s eyes.

”Dur…”
“DOG is your name,” exclaimed the Captain, cutting off Durgins reply with a hard backhand.

Durgin flinched ever slightly from the blow but returned his face forward with teeth clenched and blood welling up on his split lip.

”ALL of you are named DOG!  That’ll be your first lesson!”

”Durgin of WarGar is my name Captain Steel,” replied Durgin defiantly, his eyes fixed forward.

The Captain stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face the defiant slave.

”WarGar?  Is that your band of lil gypsies?  Is that some puny lil army from wherever you were spawned dog?!  Your name is dog.  Say it!” yelled the Captain.

Durgin held his tongue firm.  When the order was unanswered, the red faced Captain belted him again, this time harder.  Durgin stood back up tall and firm as before.  A red welt rose up across his jaw.

”Oh.  I see.  Military it is then.  Well, I’ve had my share of your kind come thru here.  Dog.  I’ve broken better, bigger, dogs than you before,” said the Captain quietly under his breath as he reared his hand back for another blow.

”CAPTAIN STEEL! I take it your not trying to damage my new property are you?” came the booming voice of Lord Istar as he quickly walked up.

The Captain came to attention, as the other guards did as well.

”No your lordship.  Merely breaking the new help in properly according to your wishes,” he replied quickly.

”Then I take it you’ll divide up these slaves accordingly with no further damage.  Especially to this one, Durgin I believe he calls himself,” said the Lord in a calm, quiet tone of voice.

”Yes m’Lord.  As you command sire.”

Lord Istar hesitated a moment, staring at the profile of the Captain before leaving.

The Captain waited until he had gone before gritting his teeth and looking into Durgins smiling eyes.

”Relish this moment dog.  It will be fleeting.”

The Captain divided up the men into their respective duties.  Durgin was shown to rough and filthy cell inside the barracks where the fighters were housed.  Each man had a rope cot and straw pillow to sleep on.  They were, however, fed very well.  Fresh fruits and vegetables, decent meats as well.  The Lord prided himself, Durgin came to find out, on his quality of entertainment.  Every month, Lord Istar would hold a feast, honoring the fighting gods of this land.  Peace had prevailed here for centuries, however, the fighting spirit of the men and women remained and the commoners demanded entertainment.  The Lord made good money on his land taxes, however the bulk of his realms earnings came from wagering and the feast.  Twas a rather lucrative setup he’d divised.

”Alright you meatbags, get up and out in the training courtyard.  We’re gonna see what the Lord’s brought me to work with and throw to the meat grinder this month,” said large man who oddly enough called himself, Teacher.

Standing in a barred courtyard with several items, Durgin and his 3 ‘dog’ brothers waited anxiously.

”Listen close cuz I’ll only say this once.  Do it right the first time and you’ll only have to do it 10 more times, otherwise you’ll do it till you drop.  Got that!?” shouted the gravel voiced man.

”You two meatsacks, square off and start punching,” instructed Teacher as the two pit fighter trainees looked at one another.

Walking closer to them, Teacher looked between the two saying further, “What you no understand me?  I SAID PUNCH!” he yelled!

The two men stepped back in shock and started to attempt to punch one another…albeit horribly bad.  Teacher held his face in his big hand.

”For the love of Mitra stop…Stop!  I truly am cursed in this life.  Ok, you two dogs, same order, start slapping.”

Durgin had already balled his fist up and as soon as the order came socked his partner right in the jaw, knocking him to the ground cold as a cucumber.  Teacher jerked his head back and nodded approvingly.

”See!?  Was that so damn hard to do?!  What’ll you call yourself meat?” asked the instructor.

”Durgin,” he replied as he cracked his knuckles.

”Hmm.  Well you listen well enough.  Lemme see what else you can do.  Hold on, get up you son of a sow!” said Teacher as he kicked the unconscience man to rouse him.

The man shakily got to his feet, holding his throbbing jaw and glaring at Durgin, who just simply shrugged.

”You two slap pansys I want to jump on Durgin here.  Try to take him down to the ground.  NO biting.  First one that bares teeth will get them knocked outta his head by me.  GO!” instructed Teacher as he stepped back to observe.

Durgin quickly trotted back to keep from getting caught between the two men.  Both were of average build, but had little to no fighting experience.  As one man lunged for Durgin’s wrist, the other raced to grab him from behind.  Durgin batted the wrist grab away and sent his foot into the man’s chest.  Spinning around quickly he backfisted the other fighter in the side of the head, sending him reeling.  The third fighter, somewhat irritated at being knocked down earlier, tried to sucker punch Durgin in the back of the head.  Durgins training and battle sense gave the man’s approach away and he countered by grabbing his arm and shoulder throwing him into one of the other fighters.  With all three fighters on the ground now, Durgin heard the clapping and laughter behind him.

”Not bad meat, not too shabby.  You might last a few rounds in the pit.  Still, it’s not always against farmers and slaves.  Sometimes they throw a ringer in the mix to ‘spice’ things up a bit,” said Teacher as the men dusted themselves off and rubbed their wounds.

“Look.  I’m here against my will.  First chance I get,  I’m outta here,” said Durgin, forgetting his place momentarily.

Laughing heartily, “Son you’re owned by Lord Istar!  The only way your escaping from his ownership is in a sack or if someone buys you at a profit.  No there’s no escaping this place, sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”

Durgin cursed himself inside for not holding his tongue in check.  Teacher dismissed them back to the barracks for lunch feeding.

Weeks passed as Durgin continued to train to be a pit fighter for Lord Istar.  There was ‘dirty’ fighting techniques that he’d picked up under the tutelage of Teacher.  The following evening after dinner, Lord Istar followed by Capt. Steel came to the barracks.

”Well Durgin, I hear from Teacher that you’re the number one fighter.  Tomorrow night we’ll be holding our feast and pit fighting.  I hope you’ll prove yourself worthy of the investment I’ve made in you,” said the Lord as he folded his hands behind him.

Durgin sat on his bunk and blankly stared back, trying to come back with something meaningful.

”Answer your master dog!” fired Steel from behind.
Durgin’s face turned soft and gentle as a smile formed as he spoke, “I’ll do my best to bring you and your guests entertainment Lord Istar.  However know this, the first chance I get, I’ll kill your lap dog behind you without so much as a warning.”

Lord Istar smiled wide at the threat, but Captain Steels reaction was oppositely different.  His face redden with rage as he stepped forward to the cell door and turned to the Lord.

”Let me kill this insolent welp your highness!  His every breath is an insult to me and to your generosity for purchasing his worthless hide.  Please your lordship!?” asked Captain Steel thru clenched teeth.

Durgin smiled at the reaction he provoked in the poor natured Captain Steel.

”Easy Captain, you may yet have your wish granted.  This particular months honored guest comes from the far eastern reaches.  The orientals as they like to be referred to have a special fighter they wish to show off for us westerners.  They call them Bokuru’s which means ‘breed warrior’ in their native tongue.  So I hope for your sake, Durgin, that your skills serve you well,” intoned Lord Istar before turning and leaving with a second glance at Captain Steel.

“Someday dog, I’ll have you broken and bled at the end of a leash at my feet, begging to put you to the sword to end your suffering,” whispered the Captain.

”Yes yes yes, I’ve heard this many times before.  Death, pain, misery, yet here we stand, divided by that steel cage you grip so tightly.  But mark my words Captain, the last thing you’ll see before leaving for Hades is my face looking down at you,” replied back Durgin with annoyance.

Captain Steel gritted his teeth before turning sharply and following out after the Lordship.

The next evening, Teacher had come to the barracks early to outfit the fighters with the proper garb and equipment.  The other three men were outfitted each with a short sword, rough leather armor, and one with a shield.  Durgin sat quietly on his bunk, awaiting his turn.  Finally Teacher returned for him presumably, the music of the feast could faintly be heard from within the barracks.

”So Teacher, what form of amusement do I get to provide to our captors hmm?” asked Durgin jovially as tho not a care in the world.

Teachers expression was one of direness and fear.  This gave Durgin a bit of a pause for concern himself.

”Boy, they decided to put you in unarmored combat,” said Teacher finally.

”Unarmored?  You mean without armor or hand to hand?” asked Durgin, confused.

”Both lad.  You’ll be facing their champion in hand to hand.  Normally the rules of the house stand that you yield to the fallen, sparing their lives by showing mercy, however, that rule was waived,” explained Teacher grimly.

Durgin furrowed his brow in contemplation.

”Steel.  He’s behind this.  That cur!” cursed the WarGar soldier.

”Maybe, maybe not lad.  Either way makes no difference now.  Lemme give you some advice.  These orientals are a crafty, agile lot.  Dunno if you have anything like them where your from, but take it from me.  These bunch of yellow skinned devils move like vipers.  Their national pastime is hand to hand fighting, the deadly kind.  Never underestimate them.  Your strength will count for naught as they will turn it against you boy,” instructed Teacher as he gripped Durgin by the shoulders and looked him in the eye.

”Thank you for the advice Teacher, I’ll heed it and not forget it either.  Afterwards we’ll laugh about this,” said Durgin jokingly.

Teacher raised both eyebrows and sighed heavily just before another guard came down.  The instructor glanced over his shoulder with a nod.

”Tis time lad.  May your gods sit and smile with mine as you walk this dark path,” said Teacher solemnly before turning to lead Durgin up the steps and to the pit.

Up at the pit arena, specially constructed to Lord Istar’s specifications, were several hundred guests.  Durgin was amazed at the lavishness used in the construction of the seating area above the ‘pit’.  The pit was a large oval set 10 feet into the ground below the guest seating area.  Lined in solid seamless marble stone, there were drainage grates along the outer edge of the floor.  Durgin guessed this is where the blood was washed to after each feast.  The pit was amazingly clean and only the hit of sweat and blood could he smell.  A set of wooden steps was lowered into the pit to allow the winning fighter to climb out as well as retrieve the body of the defeated.  Hopping down into the oval, Durgin was instructed by Teacher to stand on the blue marble side of the oval and his opponent on the green side.  His opponent, an oriental from the far eastern end of the world was half of Durgins weight and at least a full 6 to 8 inches shorter than him.  The man looked more like a young boy than a man.  But heeding his mentors words carefully, Durgin kept his thoughts on the task. 

”My fellow lords and ladies, esteemed guests and wagers, its with great pleasure I bring to you tonight’s final match.  My newest and most profound pugilist, Durgin the Destroyer.  And from the lands of our honored guests, the Lord Boduku himself’s prized warrior, Kitah!” announced Lord Istar as he stood from his chair.

Cheers and whistles among the hundreds went up.  Cups and plates banged on wooden armrests as Durgin looked around quickly before focusing his attention on the pintsized man in front of him.  The pit oval was only about 15 to 20 yards in length, but the narrowness of it made it feel a lot cozier and confined to Durgin.  He readied himself for anything this dwarf could throw at him.

“This fight will be to the death.  Combatants, you WILL slay your opponent.  The mercy rule is suspended for this match only.  Prepare yourselves!”

As a loud gong went up, nearly startling Durgin, the smaller opponent took off his vest, revealing a bare chest rippling with hardened muscles and not an ounce of fat anywhere.  Durgin was shocked to see the physical specimen of a man come racing at him with cheetah like speed.  As the dwarf man let out a shrill shriek, he launched into a double front kick that sent the soldier flying backwards into the marble wall hard.  The breath shot out of Durgins lungs with a rush, causing him to drop to his knee.  The oriental fighter who landed on his back after the blow did an immediate spring flip to land on his feet, fists at the ready in a strange stance.  Quickly regaining his wind, Durgin didn’t have to wait for the next attack.  The strange man stepped forward quickly and unleashed a barrage of blows with his fist and feet, Durgin blocked and dodged several if not all, down on one knee before sneaking in an uppercut to the man’s chin.  Sending the pintsized fighter backwards, Durgin got to his feet and began his own assault, trying to use his size and power to his advantage.  The first blow landed on the orientals upraised forearm, the second blow by Durgin was stopped in a grapple.  Before Durgin could yank free, he was sent flying forward off his feet and into the dirt, followed with a sharp kick to his upper back.  Spitting dirt as he came up, Durgin was met with more shrill yells and punches to his midsection, head, and kidneys.  He could feel each punch as tho it were made by a mace.  The mans small fists were hard as stones.  Durgin recalled Teachers words about strength meaning naught against this adversary. 

”He won’t last long m’lord,” chuckled Captain Steel darkly.

”Perhaps your right Captain.  Still, he’s got resources we are unawares of,” replied Ishtar calmly.

Durgin lept backwards away from the little man, trying to regain himself and compose a strategy against this faster and harder opponent.  The mouse cuts over his face were oozing blood mixed with his sweat, making it harder to keep his eyes on his opponents lightning moves.  Sucking in lungfuls of air, there was a momentary break in the action.  The oriental fighter seemed to slack up a bit, as if playing to the crowd by spinning around with his arms raised.  The crowd applauded and cheered louder. 

”Pride eh?  That’ll work just fine,” muttered Durgin as he leaped at the man and tried to land a few lucky blows.

The enemy was ready however and blocked Durgins blows and countered by kicking him in the face.  Durgin felt his nose crack under the hit and went reeling backwards, bounced off the wall and went to the ground as tears welled up in his eyes, blinding him.  Durgin could hear the crowd going wild as he fought the tears back to see the diminutive fighter jumping up and down, arms flailing with him to pump the crowd up.  He gritted his teeth thru the pain and grabbed a handful of the gritty earth beneath him.  As the oriental approached to finish the job, Durgin tossed him a face full of the dirt.  The man turned sharply, clutching at his eyes and yelling out.  Durgin, nose pouring blood and broken to one side.  Got to his feet and swung his hand in a chopping motion into his enemies throat.  The man’s bloodshot eyes opened wide from the larynx crushing blow.  As he gasped and choked for air, Durgin stepped behind him quickly.  In one swift motion, the WarGar soldier snapped the man’s head around nearly 180 degrees, killing him instantly.  The orient’s lifeless body hit the earth with an audible thud as Durgin stepped away to lean against the wall of the pit and reset his nose with a crunch.

Lord Istar rose to his feet and clapped, smiling the entire time.

”Appears to me, my investment is paying off rather nicely, wouldn’t you agree Captain Steel?” chided Lord Istar without looking to see the ire rise in his Captain.

Durgin was helped out of the pit by Teacher who was there waiting with a cold wet compress.

”You did it lad!  You bet that quick lil bugger!  Lord Istar will be pleased.  However, I don’t advise you to travel to the far east at anytime soon,” chuckled the happy man as he pressed the cold rag to Durgins bleeding nose.

“Thank you,” was all Durgin said, accepting the relief of the compress to his throbbing nostrils.

He was led to stand before the two lords.  The Lord Boduku looked rather angry.  But in a surprising gesture, he bowed before Lord Istar, then towards Durgin before turning and leaving with his people. Durgin returned the bow as well.

”My my you continue to surprise me Durgin.  I’ve come to expect great things from you.  Great things indeed.  Until then, rest and recover, you’ve more than earned it,” said Lord Istar before nodding to Teacher to have Durgin looked after.

The next few days that past were spent by Durgin eating well and being looked after by the court healer.  Teacher came and checked on Durgin, took him for some light training duty as well.  The days following were spent with more training and fighting.  Durgin learned the subtle yet varied art of knife fighting.  Oft times when fighters were scarce, the nobles would turn to animal fighting.  Drop a slave with a dagger in a pit with a half starved beast and you’d have some sport on your hands.  Teacher showed Durgin ways in which to fight like he’d never been shown.  Swords were next on the following week.  Swords and shields Durgin knew well from his WarGar training.  He tried to not think about his army, but look for opportunities in which to escape this prison he was trapped.

Durgin was trained by many comparable men at arms over a great length of time. 
Sitting on his recently re-stuffed bunk, Durgin rubbed at the back of his stiff neck.  Teacher, had been putting Durgin thru the ringer over the last three gruelingly hot days.  The sun and heat in this new strange land always seemed to rob Durgin quickly of his strength and stamina.  He’d wished he could adapt faster to this new clime in which he was held hostage.

”Well my boy how are ya feeling this day?” asked Teacher as he swung by Durgins cell.

”Like an animal, same as every other day Teacher,” he replied sarcastically as he gestured at the small cell that confined him.

Teacher, smiling, “Well lad you should be so grateful to the Lord Istar for giving you your own accommodations.  Not every dog fighter gets such liberties.”

“You make it sound like I be staying at a resort or house of ill repute.  This is a prison to me!  I have a life outside of here, one that I WILL reclaim,” shot back Durgin hotly, the fire of freedom still burning in his soul.

”Boy, you would mind that tongue of yours!  You can fight without it you know.  Our good master would do you such harm for such hot and heady words,” replied Teacher, lowering his voice, pointing at Durgin thru the bars.

Durgin harrumphed and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

After his morning meal came and went, Teacher had Durgin sent out to the training field for some exercise.  The sun was already beating down an unrelenting wave of heat.  Sweltering as he squinted in the bright sunlight, Durgin jogged steadily around the large wooden pole, attached by a chain around his waist.  Strapped to his back was a burlap sack that contained about 40lbs in grain.  Sweat stung his eyes as he kept his pace steady.
Thirty minutes into the exercise and Durgins lungs felt like cat claws had scratched them to bloody ribbons.  The heat was becoming unbearable.  Gasping for air he stumbled slightly, arousing Teacher’s attention.

”Focus on controlling your breathing boy!  That’s the only thing that’ll keep you from being winded.  Your body will adjust to the timing you set by your breathing,” barked the older man from a shady palm nearby.

“I…can’t…the heat…killing my…lungs,” gasped Durgin as his steps began to falter even more with each ragged breath.

His leg muscles burned with acid pumping thru his veins.  All he could do was focus on each tortured step.  The ache in his shoulders from the weight rubbed his bare, sweat soaked skin.  Finally he tripped and fell to the ground.  Teacher rose to his sandaled feet and walked to the kneeling slave.

”Gods preserve you boy.  Less than an hour at a nag’s trot and your spent!  How do you expect to fight tomorrow during the heat of the day against your enemy whose trying to kill you eh?” asked Teacher as he loomed over Durgin.

Rising to his feet shakily and slowly, Durgin replied, “I’ll just kill him quick and be done with it.”

Teacher reared back and laughed heartily, “Oh!  It’s just that simple now.  You just ‘kill them quick’ and be back in your cell for supper?” mocking Durgin.

Durgin’s temper flared at the sarcasm shot back at him in his soaking face.  A surprise kick launched by Teacher caught the man off guard and sent him to the ground again.

”And what if this ain’t no two-chit slave but a trained killing machine? What then dog?” fired the elder.

”Then I guess I won’t have to endure your beatings?” said Durgin sternly as he rolled away and got back to his feet.

Teacher’s anger rose slightly, evident to Durgin by the bristling of his full beard.

”Run for another 30 minutes dog.  We’ll see how fit you are to fight after that.  Lose the sack.  I want you light on your feet,” he ordered as he unfurled the short whip tucked into his waistband.

Durgin knew that if he let up in his pace just a tiny amount, Teacher would have no problem breaking his flesh with the slave whip.  He quickly shrugged out of the weight harness and began to run at a good pace around his tethered pole.  Concentrating on his breathing, as told to him by his mentor, Durgin’s 30 min run in the blazing heat was less than death itself.

After Teacher had cut him loose, mildly satisfied with his performance, he allotted him an hours rest for lunch before moving onto the castle training grounds where it would be weapons training.  While Durgin sat under a small groomed palm frond table, Teacher had a message delivered to him by one of the Lords errand boys.  Teacher glanced at it then crumpled the paper and threw it over his shoulder before stomping towards Durgin.

”Bad news Teacher?” asked Durgin, curiosity getting the best of him.

”For you lad.  Appears the Lord has a ‘special’ guest coming from overseas to bring a prize fighter with him to pit against you.  High stakes too it would seem.  Lord Istar has agreed, of course, and wishes you to make it a good showing,” replied the heavier man as he sat down across from Durgin.

Many of the nobles want a good ‘show’ to put on for their subjects as well as their guests.  Overseas and trade contacts abroad care not whether they win or lose, but maintain a sense of ‘dignity’ when entering into such prize fights.  Bragging rights can make or break a lucrative trade contract in the works.  Durgin realized this early on in his slave fighting career when his handler told him to make sure he broke both of his opponents arms before dispatching him to his ancestors.

“A ringer you mean then?” followed up Durgin with not much enthusiasm in the note.

“Aye lad.  If’n I know Lord Istar, he’ll have a fat purse laid on this one too.  Given the circumstances and your record.”

”But I thought it wasn’t always about the purse, but the relations with the persons wagering?” asked Durgin puzzled by the obvious paradox.

Teacher scratched at his scraggly beard and nodded, “Yes lad that’s normally the truth.  However, this particular guest is from overseas.  The Lord will want to make sure he is seen as a mighty and powerful man….thru his slave fighters.  If a man possess a strong slave that crushes his partners pawn, what does that say about his army? Eh?”

Durgin nodded as he comprehended the political tactics.  The Lord wants to be the stronger side of any trade agreements struck.  Therefore he wanted the upper hand in the negotiations…using his slave fighters as leverage or “bargaining power”.

”Lad!” barked Teacher, snapping Durgin from his private ponderings.

”The Lord approaches,” he hissed as they both rose and bowed in respect.

”Ahh easy as it goes my good workers.  I have but a few moments and would like to speak to my pride and joy of the pits… Walk with me?” asked Lord Istar as if it were possible to say no.

Flanked by two large and VERY burly guards, Istar walked with his hands folded behind his back.  Durgin, customarily as he was taught by Teacher, walked two steps behind the Lord in a manner of respect.  To walk beside a man in these lands indicated equality.  Durgin, after all, was still a captured slave.

”My good boy I’ve arranged an exhibition with an overseas merchant.  He’s very wealthy and in control of several key trade routes I have had my eye on for some time.  I would very much like to barter a contract with this individual.  However, they insist on seeing a ‘demonstration’ of my political tout in my own lands.  As if my name does not strike fear enough!” blathered the large and very wealthy man.

Durgin tried desperately not to roll his eyes and incur the wrath of the ever watchful guards.

”But alas they are infidels and are barely smarter than your savage self.  Hence why I want you to make a particularly bloody example out of their fighter.  I’m told by my informants that this particular fighter is especially deadly with a set of skills unlike any man you’ve ever faced.  So as a show of my omnipotence, after you’ve bestest their fighter, I want you to have them beg for mercy just before beheading them.  Is that understood?” requested the Lord as he turned to face Durgin.

Durgin immediately dropped his eyes and replied humbly thru gritted teeth, “Yes your lordship, as you command.  I shall best their fighter then behead them.”

”No!  You half deaf louse infested vermin dog!  I want them to BEG FOR MERCY BEFORE you behead them!!” he bellowed, swelling with rage.

”T’would be not enough to just simply kill them.  These infidel dogs need to see what control and power are really all about.  I want you to prolong the fight.  Hurt their warrior gradually.  Slowly chip away at them until you can take them whenever you wish.  I’ll have Teacher signal when its time for them to beg.  Is that clear enough for your pitiful brain to comprehend?” retorted the Lord as he drew closer to Durgin.

Durgin cast a dark and menacing look up at the Lord Istar, “Perfectly understood your highness.”

The Lord hesitated, looking deep into the eyes of his prized slave fighter.  Some day he knew in his soul, this one was destined to die by his hand or be set free.  For he would not be a caged and kept animal much longer.

”Good.  You may return to your training.  I look forward to seeing your performance,” said Istar before quickly strolling away as the guards followed.

Durgin hesitated before returned over to the table by Teacher.

”Dare I guess lad?” asked the older man.

”His royal pain in the arse wants me to best their fighter, then have them beg publicly for mercy before…”

”Being beheaded,” finished Teacher as he shrugged his head and ran his fingers thru the mop of thinning hair.

Durgin just nodded silently.

”This is very important lad.  You will need to follow those instructions to the letter,” advised Teacher.

”What’s so special?” asked the Wargar warrior quizzically.

”Public humiliation is a form of bargaining power boy,” replied Teacher gesturing with his hands.

”Beheading is a show of force and resolute actions.  If I’m willing to lop off your beaten fighters head…”

”Think about what I’d do to you if you broke our deal,” finished Durgin in turn.

”Aye lad.  You catch on pretty quick for a no lung slouch,” grinned Teacher thru the missing teeth.

”Well, I’ll do what I have to do then,” sighed Durgin as he sprinted off for more running in the blistering heat.