Chapter 7 - The Beatdown

"Shit!" Xashir yelled as a spear was thrust at him without warning, the long and pointy end preparing to pierce through a thigh, dangerously close to his nether regions.

The attack was thwarted and hit only air, a few inches from where the hob was, before being pushed aside by Mohawk in a hasty effort to save the taller greenskin's life. The wind was split aside from the half-orc's strike, instilling fear into the ruffians' pounding hearts and nearly maiming the hob's future spawns.

Fuck, that was close, this guy's no joke. I almost lost my precious, thought the hobgoblin. That reach of his is going to be a problem. As well as us being stuck here on one side. We should just—

Gungmar withdrew his spear, and suddenly smacked the butt of it into the ground, the sound interrupting Xashir's mental cogwheels.

"This is your last chance." He spoke up, his voice was cold and steel-like. "Let me go, and I will not harm you. All. Nine. Of. You." His face was indiscernible, and there was no crack of nervousness when he said that—either well-hidden or absent.

Burak snorted in laughter, unintimidated. The street urchins followed soon after nervously, while Fern, Mohawk, Xashir, and the hobgoblin sisters stood silent.

"Boo hoo. Iz not scary." Burak bellowed and slapped his chest, taunting Gungmar to strike at him. "You iz not scary. We many and stronger. Give up," he boasted, expecting the others to agree with him.

They didn't, at least not as much as the street urchins, who only nodded in passing.

He spat at the ground and glared at the rest of them, disappointed.

The half-orc didn't respond to Burak's goading and instead waited for Xashir to give in to his demand, who seemed like a sensible guy from what he's seen.

The hobgoblin could see in the half-orc's eyes that he was dead serious, but he was torn between accepting or continuing the job despite being on the verge of death just moments before. The rest of his crewmates waited for his decision, with Burak getting annoyed by the minute they did not spend on beating down their target.

They were so used to ambushing unwary victims and strong-arming others that they couldn't have predicted this. Whereas their target was fearless even when outnumbered, and more dangerous than all of them put together.

But the thuglike orc was too stupid to even consider it. Snorting and waiting for the others' confirmation to back him up in a counterattack, as Xashir was stalling for time. It was a tough call for the hob to make, but after a minute, he was prepared.

Finish the contract, just like the boss said.

With his mind made up and trying to keep the crack in his voice from coming out, the hob waved his bludgeon threateningly once more in the hopes of convincing the half-orc to surrender. To no avail.

"Fu-fuck. N-no. No! You're just a guy, and there's nine of us; you don't scare us, right?" He got a few hesitant nods and a confident grin from Burak. He strengthened his resolve by praying to the Divine and devising a strategy to win their bounty.

Eyeing his surroundings from top to bottom, he had an idea.

Xashir made no attempt to conceal his gesture toward the urchins, cocking his chin at the rooftops and making a quick circle with his fingers for the plan to entrap the target, rendering Gungmar's spear's reach useless due to being ganged up on by two sides in a confined space.

Del, Kor, and Zuz immediately obeyed the hob's orders, leaping to a ledge and hauling themselves up, their feet quick and soft on the rotting roof tiles.

Gungmar grumbled. He did his best to defuse the situation, if you can call his laughable intimidation and fake-out of an attack a success. Despite this, it appears that violence is unavoidable.

The urchins were getting dangerously close to his blind spot, so he decided to simply knock them all down into submission. Especially their leader and most powerful fighters.

He rushed at Xashir, feinting a strike. The hob blocked with his weapon, but was surprised when not a hit was pushed at his club. Instead, he felt pain in his stomach, a sudden punch to the gut by Gungmar.

Doubling over, he couldn't get a minute's rest before the half-orc kneed his face and elbowed his jaw, knocking him down to the ground unconscious, and splaying his weapon at the Gungmar's feet.

Surprised, Burak charged at Gungmar with an overhead swing of his massive bludgeon, and Fern chanted an offensive spell, conjuring a sharp stone projectile from the rocks and dust on the ground and launching it at the half-orc.

Gungmar delivered an uppercut to Burak's wide and vulnerable throat, causing him to drop to his knees and his weapon, choking uncontrollably when his airway was cut off. Simultaneously, the half-orc tightened his grip on the fat orc's throat and positioned him in front of the projectile's trajectory, piercing his back instead of hitting Gungmar as it was supposed to.

He screamed in agony as the sharp object burrowed through his skin like an, well, an arrow, but was ultimately stopped by his blubber from doing any further damage.

Fern screamed feebly, exhausted from overusing his mana, and terrified at seeing his friends hurt. Nina and Shina both drew their miniature shivs from their boots and aimed them at the half-orc with terrible stances. Mohawk, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and gulping loudly, unsure if they should go next.

Gungmar heard light footsteps approaching behind him and immediately bashed Burak's head into the rough surface of a wall, his big body going limp from the blow to his head and dropping to the floor when Gungmar let go.

Turning around, he used his bare hand to stop a knife blade from piercing his bare torso, blood dripping down from the stab wound in his palm. Fear was visible in the assailant's eyes—on the urchin with only one whole ear—who was imagining his unfortunate circumstances that had led to this particular moment.

Gungmar yanked the knife from trembling hands and threw it as far as he could, over the roofs of the residential district, and clanking somewhere when it landed.

The other two behind the urchin he had just disarmed were holding their hands shakily, unsure whether they should continue or not.

They just thought 'fuck the contract' after deliberating on it because seeing their two best warriors being taken out easily in a matter of seconds made it obvious they weren't going to win.

They soon sheathed their blades, raising their hands in surrender, with the rest following suit.

The spectators watching their fight were in awe and couldn't help but shout in delight, the fight almost taking them off the edge of their seats, but was quickly put to rest by Gungmar's scowl.

"...come after me and I will make you regret it." He said, slowly turning his head back and forth between the ruffians, giving them menacing stares as if daring them to attack him once more, feeble as it is.

Seeing that nobody made a move within a minute, Gungmar figured he should just leave. Lifting his feet over the fat orc's limp body and the hobgoblin's unconscious figure, he passed by Fern, Mohawk, Nina, and Shina before giving all of them a backward glance.

Nobody tried to stop him, so he walked away while whistling a nostalgic tune. And the ribbon on his spear waving breezily, his shoulders cracking from overexertion. "...that wasn't too bad, was it? Just a few broken bones and then something. Hopefully, the Elder won't call me into his study again..." He muttered to himself, having already forgotten the day's heart-pounding event.

When he walked away, the remaining ruffians rushed to Burak and Xashir's aid.

"What the fuck was that?" Mohawk exclaimed, his breath still shaky. "We chose the wrong location and person to target; the boss is going to kill us."

"That doesn't matter right now, idiot! Burak and Xashir are fucked up, especially Burak! Look at the damn guy, would you? Just look at the size of the thing stuck in his back. Godsdamned Fern. Does anybody have a healing potion?" Nina rushed over her words in a panic.

"Don't blame me! I was aiming for Two-Four, not Burak! I-I-I'm s-so sorry..."

Agitated voices soon began overlapping each other as the ruffians tried to figure out their next move. And a way to appease their unhappy boss when he comes and see this.

Meanwhile, Gungmar was on his way back to his assigned barracks to tend to his wounds. Uncaring if they will retaliate soon after. And cursing himself for forgetting to ask them who actually sent them and why.

"Well, I can't go back there because it's too embarrassing, and they might just attack me again. Anyway, this won't matter to me anymore tomorrow when I leave for the In-Between." the half-orc yawned, unknowingly rubbing a bloodied hand on his fur mantle.

He had no idea what was coming for him.