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Dan-Kip is an Argonian, an atypically advantageous Argonian. He is approaching his twenty third year of life as an outwardly law abiding citizen of Tamriel. Dark green scales are the defining colouration down his family line, but his face and chest are of a slightly lighter shade. He is a denizen of Solitude, a worker in the docks to be exact. Long years of labour through his pubescent life have resulted in a strong physique, though his green stomach is a little pot bellied. Hard work is certainly something that Dan-Kip, or Kip for short, is used to in his life but it is the excitement of less honest work that helps keep this Argonian's lifestyle rich. But risk can always come with failure.

Today is a day like any other for Solitude, a relatively bright and temperate morn, unlike those frozen trolls in Winterhold. Jarl Elisif the Fair, widow of King Torygg, on her throne in the Blue Palace and everyone is start a new day of honest work. This honest work includes our protagonist. A couple of new ships ferrying people and supplies from elsewhere in the empire have made harbour. Solitude has always prided itself in being able to provide the people of Skyrim with some of the finest imports. Of course, Dan-Kip also prides himself in being able to procure some of the finest imports too; just don't ask about his sources.

"Kip!" The loud and abrasive voice of the dockmaster seems especially gruff and unfriendly today. "Where were you two hours ago?"

"Well there was this poor old lady..." Kip begins to start as he turns around to face the balding imperial; but he stops when the man gives him one of them looks.

"There's a ship-" The dockmaster begins to explain but is interrupted.

"There's always a ship." The Argonian knows he should not test the tempestuous man with his attitude, but a part of him just does not care.

"None of your backtalk!" He snarls at the Argonian and Kip stops. "The Ocean Willow has cargo that needs to be secured as quickly as possible. GET OVER THERE!"

Kip snaps to attention, or at least appears to, running along the worn wooden dock before the dockmaster turns around and he slows back down. There are crates filled with foodstuffs and other uninteresting items scattered across the place; other dockhands earning an honest septim. Kip walks across the gantry, wood creaking underneath his feet, before hopping off onto the main deck the Ocean Willow. Another of his fellow Argonians and an imperial are already moving up stuff from the cargo hold onto the deck. The crew of the ship, bar a minimum of two sailors and one officer, have already gone for their shore leave.

"You finally woke up then Kip," the only other Argonian quips as Kip looks over some sacks that have been stacked up against the crates. His kin has light green scales along the front of his body like Kip, but has dark crimson red ones over his shoulders, limbs and back.

"What have we got this time Har?" Kip ignores the comment and asks a serious question in what he thinks is a fairly professional tone.

"A lot of perishables from the imperials homelands. It's good though, less hard lifting unlike the armour we had take in for the soldiers. Maybe you'll not need one of your stupid lunch breaks my friend!" Har adds a loud slap against Kip's back with this last insight and then disappears back into the hold.

The morning continues in the fashion of lifting with your knees and making sure that the cargo is not mislabelled or even mixed. But as the dock workers near the back of the Ocean Willow's hold, something unexpected has come to Solitude secreted away in the unassuming cargo ship. Kip is just sliding off one of about half a dozen boxes containing something he does not care for the smell of, when he hears a metallic jingling sound. With the container still in his arms he looks down and to the left of him where he thinks he heard the noise. As his eyes fall upon it they grow more than a little wider in the low torch lit belly of the ship.

Kip puts the box down quickly but quietly and whilst remaining crouched he waddles over a bit whilst staring down at that which has caught his interest. A shiny, gold and probably enchanted judging by the electric feeling he is getting from it, pendant which is large enough to nearly cover his entire palm. There is something in the air, just beyond the range of his hearing; Kip thinks it is singing, yes, the pendant is singing to him. A toothy grin spreads across his face, his crimson eyes growing wider. Before he even knows what he is doing, the practised thief is already reaching out for the pendant's chain. As his scaly fingers wrap around the chain it feels surprisingly warm.

"Now what are you doing back here..." Kip coos to the pendant as he holds it up to his face, swinging gently from side to side.

"I'm wondering the same thing, thief." Even before the last word reaches his hearing, the Argonian's heart starts to thrum inside his chest. His hands becomes a fist around the pendant's chain and he is already rising up to a standing position. Part of him is on autopilot, tensing up here and there, adrenaline filling his veins. But the other part of Dan-Kip is thinking, eyes darting this way and that whilst he slowly turns around, looking for an escape though he knows there is but only one out of the hold.

Standing between the Argonian and that one exit is a large Nord in armour bearing Solitude's colours, minus the helmet. His stature is only matched by the thickset muscles around his neck, shoulders, arms and hell just about everything attached to his bones. Immediately after the overall intimidating shape of the Nord, Dan-Kip's eyes focus upon the sheathed blade. Oddly though the grip of the sword looks in remarkably good condition. The guard squeezes his left fist inside is massive right hand, showing no sign of reaching for his weapon; that explains it then, Kip might stand more of a chance than he first thought.

"I don't suppose we can talk about this?" Kip asks as calmly as possible.

"Heh, no." The guard grunts.

Both men simultaneously spread their footing, providing more stability for shifting their weight around. Garl, the Nord, just stands in front of the exit with a malicious smirk on his face as he waits for the Argonian to make the first move. Dan-Kip does not disappoint. First he tucks the pendant away on his person and decides that he might as well try to make a dash. He lurches forward, the claws on his bare feet providing some added traction as they scratch the wood panels underneath. He swerves to one side, coming in to the left of his opponent he hopes to simply apply his agility to get past him. Unfortunately for Kip, a very large, somewhat hairy and most certainly solid arm comes up straight in front of him at the last second. He tries to duck down underneath, but it is too late and he hits it chest first.

The Nord laughs as the smaller man wind is suddenly stopped, bruising his chest in the process. Without missing a beat, Garl grabs the leather strap across Kip's torso and pulls him up. Even though still a little dazed the Argonian starts to make his struggle, directing a broad swing with his right arm, claws out. The guard holds the Argonian a little further away as the hand just misses his face and then proceeds to throw him halfway across the hold. Dan-Kip hits the wood floor hard and rolls, a little winded but still better than the immediate impact with the Nord's immovable arm. He rises back to his feet quickly, breath shallow and blood boiling as he charges back for a second time.

No evasive tactics here, Kip just tries to go for the throat. Shifting his bodyweight forward, he drives as much force as he can through his right arm. His tricep contracts hard as he fans out each claw for as wide amount of inflicted injury as possible. For an instant, Dan-Kip can feel the heat from the other man's body as his claws draw close. The next thing he feels is the tight grip of one of the guard's hands go around his forearm, just above the Argonian's wrist on his outstretched arm. Everything around Kip becomes a blur as the Nord deftly sidesteps whilst holding onto the smaller man's arm with both hands now. By leaning back, Garl is able to effectively spin the dockworker clear around the room.

Dan-Kip warbles out something that is supposed to be a scream as he struggles to catch up with what his senses are telling him. His feet rise up off the ground before being smacked against some of the crates and even a wooden bulkhead. Before he can do anything, the opportunistic Argonian is released by the guard. He hurtles across the cargo hold and crashes with the sounds of splintering wood into the far end where the pendant came from. Kip lands belly first, winding him in the process, as debris from broken crates cut at his skin and tear at his clothes; though they were not in a great state to begin with.

"You don't do this often, do you boy?" Garl mocks the thief whilst waiting to see if his quarry has any fight left in him.

"Bastard," is all that Kip says as he begins to pick himself up.

In truth the guard is impressed by the constitution of this tiny looking guy. After dusting himself off, Kip ignores the cuts across his face, arms, legs and chest, before raising his fists again. He thinks that a different tactic is required since the guard obviously has good reflexes and knows how to deal with someone of his stature and agility. Judging by the guard's weathered appearance, with hair and a stubbly bear that looks to be greying out, stamina may be the key here. If he can keep the guard fighting long enough, or at least so Kip's thoughts go, he might be able to wear him down fast enough to slip by. Whatever happens Kip is determined not to be beaten by an unambitious, deadbeat guardsman.

So the two set into the fight, Kip being the more aggressive fighter whilst Garl is content to wait for the Argonian's strikes. After a few light jabs Dan-Kip lunges forward, stopping just as he swings with his left fist. One of the guard's arms comes up underneath the dockworker's arm, deflecting his blow as Garl ducks his head. No matter though as Kip already has his right arm coming in, fist balled up as he blindly aims for the bigger man's belly. This tone connects which actually surprises the Argonian, the blow is softer than it could be as he is already shifting his body backwards to hop back, tail swinging for balance. However as he makes the leap back, his fist coming away from the Nord's chest, there is nothing but a big fat grin on Garl's face.

"What's so funny?" Dan-Kip pants as the guard laughs heartily, not even the slightest bit fazed by the successful blow.

"Is that it?" Garl finally asks. "Maybe I need to show you how it's done boy."

Kip most certainly does not like the sound of that, but regardless of his feelings the guard is already changing the music of their dance. A roaring mass of tough skin and tougher muscles comes charging across the hold in Dan-Kip's direction. Almost as if in some sort of violent critique the guard mirrors the thief's moves from before, albeit with more speed and strength than Kip had mustered. The poor Argonian can do little to block or even dodge any of the attacks as the Nord's attacks. Blow after blow connects with his scaled stomach as Garl shoves his opponent up against one of the bulkheads. Spikes of pain spread out from around a dull ache around the pit of Dan-Kip's stomach and the poor guy thinks he wants to throw up but is being interrupted with each strike.

After a good half dozen of these gut punches Garl steps back and watches as Dan-Kip falls to his knees. His eyes are off kilter and the beast man is actually experiencing a little synesthesia as the belly pain is manifesting as a crimson frame creeping into the edge of his vision. Finally he starts to topple forwards, only to stop himself with both outstretched hands. Garl watches with some kind of sick voyeurism as the young dockworker loses the contest of his stomach right there and then. The stench which starts to rise up is even more sickening, but Kip has nothing left to vomit. As he cranes his head back up the Argonian's eyes are bloodshot and his arms and shoulders are involuntarily shaking.

But just as Dan-Kip is thinking of giving up the pendant secreted on his apparel begins to radiate a strange energy. Arcane forces locked inside the artefact begin to sweep over the Argonian's body. Both him and the guard are momentarily confused, but as the effect fades away the result is self-evident. With sure foot the young thief stands up once more, looking at his torso and his arms the bruises and cuts are gone. He feels, good, not fantastic but somewhere around the state he was in just before the brutal beating. Kip looks back at the guard with a defiant smile on his face, but even as he does so he sees that the Nord is smiling too.

"This'll be fun." Garl hollers something in a tongue that the Argonian does not recognise and charges once more charges forward with a meaty, bone crunching, impact.

Thickset hands are on Kip's shoulders as he tries to lash out against the guard's chest with limited effect. It is an unfamiliar position that leaves the Nord open, but in the next instant it all comes into painful clarity. With one swift movement the sadist brings his knee up and lands it perfectly into the crux between the Argonian's thighs. The expression on the young man's face is something belonging to both shock and horror as a surge of the sensitive kind of pain runs along his back and sets his senses alight like a fireball. He just wants to keel over now, to curl up into position that he may have taken whilst still gestating inside his egg. No leeway is given though as the machiavellian guard strikes the thief in the gentleman department over and over again.

Once more with this kneecap, another with his fast, one more with an open palm. Dan-Kip is unable to fight or flee as he is other being overpowered or in far too much pseudo-paralysing pain. The pendant's latent energies reemerge, bathing across the Argonian's scaly skin even as the guard continues to mercilessly pummel his crotch. To the dockworker's horror the pendant does not hide the pain, but merely provides an ineffective buffer, healing the bruises just in time for another injury causing blow. The excruciating experience starts to distort Kip's perceptions. Moments are stretching out longer than they should conceivably be as the pendant keeps him from passing out, nerves crying for a reprieve.

After what feels like an age has been and gone, Garl finally lets the Argonian crumples down on the deck. His eyes scrunched up, the young man wails something awful as he clutches at his crotch with both hands. He tries to hold still, but the aching pain forces him to twitch, that in turn causes further hot spots of sensitive flesh being disturbed. The Nord looks down over his beleaguered opponent, seemingly defeated and most certainly in enough pain as to effectively be out of the fight. He considers applying the force of one of his feet down upon the disabled thief's genitalia, but even for a sadist he is beginning to grow tired of this wailing.

"By the Divines, you really are a lousy fighter lad." Garl is now leaning back on one of the still intact crates whilst flexing his fingers, knuckles just a tad sore now from repeated use. "But it's over now. You'll come to the city jail, that pendant will be going to its rightful owner and I'll be drinking a Black-Briar Mead this evening."

However, even as the Nord pontificates as though the fight is already over, Dan-Kip is steeling himself. The pain is subsiding, he can move without the crippling pain, although it still aches. That damned pendant may not have any analgesic effect, but it sure removes the cause of the pain soon enough. He begins to stand up, shaky legs shoring up as the guard raises an eyebrow sarcastically at him. The larger man's mouth opens, about to say something, but he does not see the fist coming in time. Kip's right arm flies fast and true, delivering a blow that hits smack on Garl's chin with kinetic force. Both his inside and outside voice are laughing as he feels the impact, sending the bastard's bottom teeth upwards into the roof of his mouth.

The inevitable retaliation is something to behold. All of that noise making and roughness from earlier, though brutal was not truly savage. This time Garl screams right in Dan-Kip's face, his hands coming down either side, pinning the smaller fighter's arms. Kip is hoisted clear off the ground, so he tries to push away with his legs. But before the Argonian can react in full he is slammed hard against the decking. Wood chips and splinters, and feels new cuts being made across his scales. Kip manages to roll over onto his back just in time to see the guard poised with his right boot hanging above the smaller man.

"NO PLE-!" The Argonian is cut short as Garl brings his foot down, hard, crushing the dockworker's genitalia underneath it.

Dan-Kip reaches down with both hands, clawing at the man's ankle. He grits his teeth trying to power through the pain as he works to pull the Nord's boot away. But the guard now begins to twist the sole of his boot around, grinding the sensitive flesh down, the strain threatening to break Dan-Kip's pelvis bone. The Argonian bites his tongue, a muffled scream going out through his flaring nostrils. Kip's face is reddening, but so is his vision as he looks back up at that stupid grin on Garl's face. He opens his mouth again, nothing but a slight whimper coming out of it. The pendant is starting to kick in, but too late, as with sweet release Dan-Kip finally passes out from the pain.

"Hmph." Garl looks bored as he crouches down beside the fallen Argonian. There is a moment of peace before he brings the side of his right fist down like a hammer. It buries itself into Kip's midsection causing him to cough and gurgle, limbs jumping a few inches up before returning to his limp state. The guard may yet have to do something more with him, but this ship is not staying docked all day and he should get the kid behind bars.

Garl searches the thief's unconscious body and finds the pendant stashed away in a small pocket underneath his vest. He removes it to take in as evidence and pulls the sleeping Argonian over his shoulders. Garl climbs up out of the hold and sees a couple of the dockworkers watching him with concerned and confused expressions. They probably heard the fight and the screams that accompanied it. He walks past them without saying a word, but smiles to himself as he can hear one of them talking behind his back. One of the workers recognises Garl, a transfer from a town further east, and the sadist's infamy spreads a little further.