(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

The guard straightened up. "You gots what Pharod’s wanting, berk?"
"Yes."
"Show it to me, berk, and I'll raise the gate. But not until, right?"
I glanced him over, suspicious of his intentions. I bled and died and starved
for this orb, and I wasn't going to let someone else take it. "It's for Pharod's
eyes only."
The thug barked a laugh, "Then you ain't getting in."
A muscle in my cheek twitched, but I tried to stay calm, "On the other hand,
I do have something you might be interested in."
He raised an eyebrow, "Yeah? What might that be?"
"Jink. How's twenty-five coppers sound?"
"You're getting warm, berk, but you ain't there yet."
I sighed, "All right. How's fifty sound?"
A smile wreathed his ugly face. "That's good enough. Pass it through, and I'll
open the gate."
I pulled out a fistful of coins, giving a rough count before tucking them in a
rag and tying it off quickly with some leftover thread. I held out the small
satchel, offering it just past the gate. "Grab it and it's yours."
He reached through the gate for the coins I held out.
In a swift motion I deftly pinned his arm back against the gate and wrenched
it. The guard screamed in agony as his arm creaked in its socket. Twisting it
further the muscle and sinew strained on the edge of tearing.
"AIEEEEEEE!" he squealed like a piglet, "Gerrof! PLEASE!"
I let him go. "Now let me in or I'll tear you to pieces. We'll have no more of
your games. I'm tired, aching, and I haven't had a hot meal in days and I'll be
damned if I'm going to let a flimsy iron gate and a graverobbing rat get in my
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