Of Fathers and Family

Of Fathers and Family
Summary: Merrick is still clueless about who is accusing him of theft, though Pawel gives some enlightening pieces to puzzle over.
Date: 14/11/2013
Related: [http://gameofkings.wikidot.com/bagged-tagged-and-shipped]
Merrick Pawel 

Wolveshire Castle - Cell 1
This small, cramped cell is lit only by the torches against the opposite wall well outside of room. The furniture consists solely of a single cot with a rough, wool blanket for warmth. The only exit is through the heavy oak door fit with a barred window for a view of the dungeon proper.
November 12 2013

It seems that while the guards were ordered to take the cuffs off after some time had passed, that message was not received or transfered on when the guards changed over - but on purpose, it was hard to say. If asked, they'd likely say he tried to attack them, in their defense - he probably did. Though who could really blame them, to have a prisoner kept in the lower bowels of Wolveshire, where only the worst were kept or those who were meant to be forgotten were stored, to forget such a task. So it was, that he had been forgotten about in respect to his cuffs and had a miserable time trying to fall asleep after he had no choice but to soil himself. Eventually he had, despite the burn in his muscles of his shoulders as they cramp and knot terribly. He's not on the cot, believe it or not, he ended up somehow finding sleep better on the stone floor proper than the miserable little cot they had stuffed in here. That's where he is, curled up with his face and body turned toward the door, arms still bound behind him.

And the door opens, letting Pawel back into the cell now. Stopping near the door as it closes again, he watches the prisoner a bit thoughtfully for the moment, shaking his head a little bit. His expression is quite stony at the moment, although there seems to be some anger in his eyes. Perhaps he's not having such a good day, or something.

The sound of the door opening jerks him awake, coming out of whatever tormented dreams he was having - or maybe they were nice ones. It's hard to say. His eyes blink open as he peers up in the dim light, regarding the man who had come to him last with words of accusation and threats. He says nothing right at this moment, though he does shift a little, as if anticipating some attack that he should totally defend himself against. Otherwise, he's locked in a stare down, waiting.

"Slept well?" The words are calm, perhaps deceptively so, as Pawel steps forward again now. Not moving to attack Merrick now or anything, he simply stops and studies the man carefully for a few moments now.

Merrick shimmies back as Pawel starts to step forward toward him, pushing up off the ground to settle his back up against the cot bed frame, watching Pawel with a suspicious eye. It's not a matter of if Pawel will attack him it's when. Pawel could probably pick up on the scent of urine, though maybe it's not so terrible in the grand scheme of the dungeons, which always has a faint musk of … well… dungeony smells. Merrick frowns, "Oh yeah, fine, considering I've been imprisoned on false charges and not yet been taken to trial." Isn't that how it is supposed to work?

Pawel shrugs a little as he steps forward the rest of the way now. "So, since you refuse to tell me about your father, tell me about your mother?" Voice still kept rather calm for now, as he offers a bit of a smile. A brief pause, as he adds, "Oh, and it seems the guards haven't been paying too much attention to their orders. I told them to remove the cuffs there." A shrug, "Ah well, it's so hard to get good help these days, you know."

Merrick is trying to climb to his feet, at least if he could get to his feet he had some chance to tower over the other man, at least by a few inches rather than being under his glaring eye. "I haven't refused, I've told you all that I know of him. He abandoned me or is dead, either way, I never knew him. As for my mother, well," he shakes his head, "It's pretty well the same story. My grandfather raised me until I was fourteen and the Corsairs destroyed everything I knew," he frowns at Pawel, "I've no reason to lie to you. I don't even know who you are." This again repeated and at least the guards hadn't broken their vow to keep him in utter darkness in that regard. He's no idea where he is and whom holds him. As for the last, Merrick shrugs, "Take them off and we can sort this out like men."

Making a bit of a tsk-ing sound, Pawel shakes his head a little. "You know, this refusal is not going to help your cause," he says, before he steps forward to attempt a kick at Merrick's ribs. "Sit down again. And tell me how you received the stolen goods, then."

The kick actually lands before he's fully onto his feet, sending him sprawling back against the cot with a grunt, able to keep himself from fully smacking his head against the stone wall in which the cot is butting up against. Merrick glares a little at the fact that Pawel continues to show he's not willing to listen, "Open your damn ears man," he shakes his head, his lips curling up with some sardonic twist, "My grandfather gave the Daciana's fangs to me when I was ten." The name of the daggers certainly tells Pawel that Merrick's not just any thief, for he knew the -name- of the weapons, probably associated with some historic ancestral figure in the Varghem line. "He told me they belonged to my father, an heirloom my father requested I have when I came of age to wield them…" his eyes travel down, toward the position Pawel's in, calculating something.

The name of the daggers seems to make Pawel a bit more angry, and he aims one more kick, this time a harder one aimed for the stomach. "Why?" The words coming out quite a bit louder now. "Why would he want *you* to have them?" That would bring a question, right? Who should have had them instead?

This would be a good time that he wished for his hands to come forward to protect him. Merrick can't get his legs up in time to keep the kick from hitting him square in the stomach, bouncing his head back against the wall, wind entirely taken out of him as he groans excruciatingly, trying to gulp down the noises but being unable to do himself justice against the sharp pains that lace through his gut now. The words why, well, he has no idea what Pawel's on. The guy's crazy! But now Merrick's pissed off and given all the right he needs to defend himself. He lashes out with his own kick aimed at Pawel's kneecap.

<ROLL> Merrick tests his unarmed skill (51) against Pawel's dodge skill (54): Pawel wins by 3 points.

Managing to step back from the kick, Pawel steps forward in an attempt to lift Merrick up and push him towards the wall. "Wrong move, brother…" he growls, the last word almost spat now. Yes, he's a bit angry at the moment.

Merrick has his lips pulled back in a grimacing snarl as Pawel comes over toward him and lifts him up, resisting as much as he can until his shoulders slam up against the wall, his eyes filled with the force of anger he's only felt once before, when he was righteously defending a woman against the hand of a man who would also not listen to reason. "No-" he tells Pawel with a daring weight in his own tone, "You're making -the- wrong move." His chest is panting with the seething anger rising like the burning fires of Ravas, or he's still trying to manage his breath after the kick to his gut, "The Faithful will be searching for their missing Brother, as will be my friends. I don't know who you are but you'll regret keeping me here."

"You think so. Maybe they will, but it's quite probable that they won't. And until they do, you'd better learn how to behave around your family, little brother." Pawel says this as he turns, still holding on to Merrick, trying to force the man down onto the cot. "It does seem you have something from your father in you, after all." Speaking a bit more calmly now.

"What in the name of the Four are you talking about?" He clearly isn't understanding what Pawel's laying down here, the pieces not connecting, as he still has some pieces left to fill. But before he can say anything further he's forced down onto the cot again, as the last makes Merrick's eyes widen, "What…?" The startling realization that the man keeping him prisoner might know his father has rattled his world, "You know him? Who…" he blinks a few more times, "Who the fuck are you?!" And that's probably the first time since he was younger that he's cursed as badly as that.

Pawel shakes his head a little bit. "If I remove the cuffs, will you promise to behave, and not try attacking again?" Spoken a bit calm, before he nods again. "I do, or rather, I did. Quite well, in fact."

"If you don't hit me, I don't have a reason to hit back—" he tells Pawel, frankly, in a manner that he would've spoken to the Four themselves, weighted with a tone that would not waiver in this. "You do… did?" Merrick's face falls from hopeful to defeated, "So he is… gone then."

"He fell from his horse, almost a year ago," Pawel replies, before he moves to remove the restraint now. "I still miss him." A brief pause, before he heads towards the door again now. "Rest. And do try not to piss in your pants again, okay? That's embarrassing!" And then he heads shrugs a little. "I will be back. Don't go anywhere."

"A year… ago?" Merrick grows thoughtful and slightly despondent at hearing that news… He could've found his father up to a year ago! And he hadn't. And now this, coming to find someone who knew his father, but too late. He doesn't really move when Pawel reaches behind him to remove the restraints, listening to the admission from the man, turning to rub his wrists and work out the knots in his shoulders some. Merrick considers Pawel as he heads toward the door, thousands of thoughts distracting Merrick from even retorting back to Pawel about anything. Though too late, as Pawel is heading out the door, Merrick stands up, "Wait…" confusion colouring his features, muttering into the dimly lit cell, "Who are you?" A beat later, "Who am I?"

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