To Brega's...(Solo)

[Zandelia]

The Establishment Fall 30th, AV 511 Zandelia found the afternoon to be a quite rapid affair, losing the time without much notice as she spent her energies running missives time and time again. It w as hard thing to do, to run back and forth – dodging and weaving through both streets and their occupants – countless times a day and all across the township of Sunberth. Still, she was becoming acclimatised to such exertion now, remembering, almost with laughter and derision, how on those first few days she had been spluttering her lungs out in wheezing gasps. Her body had adapted quite quickly, though, complemented with the training she undertook with Mok and others – on top of her employment of course. Sometimes I wonder why I was ever so unfit. I must’ve been mad to think I had had the strength and endurance to make it in Sunberth she told herself as she absently fiddled with the buckles and straps of her gauntlets. Made of cold iron, and fitted with spikes upon the knuckles, they were a chilling affair that sometimes seemed to make her arms nub from the elbow downwards – their almost ethereal chill infectious. She sat idly, scanning her eyes around The Establishment, awaiting the last job of her day to find her so that she might complete it and finally go home – having done her duty to Tua. She had grown accustomed to the place now, almost seeing it as a second home. She had been disgusted by the fetid smells and her eyes had strained to penetrate the dim-lit rooms at first, but now she rather liked the place. It was a testament to the unfailing spirit of Sunberthians. No matter how many times they were robbed, cheated and stabbed according to some scars, they still carried on heaving themselves upwards – trying in vain to reach to the heavens. It was a point of pride for her, she supposed, that Sunberthians could most probably out-do denizens of other lands at willfull and misguided optimism. “And the hope for something more, always more. They’re never happy” she muttered to herself, briefly attracting a quizzical look from one of the guards whom worked for Tua and kept order. “Hmph?” he grunted at her, probably to see if she had spotted trouble for him to ‘deal’ with she supposed. “I said you need to take a bath” she told him acidly, watching him bark a laugh and carry on about his rounds. She grinned to herself, a dark affair this time as she considered the reputation and relationships she held within The Establishment now. She had been ignored at first, but after having stuck around for the first few days and not died the others had seen fit to garner some conversation with her. Now, she was seen as an acid-spitting viper whom did not want much attention outside of business. It was an enjoyable set of affairs that afforded amusement for all parties. She was sure that Tua was even laughing, in his own non-physical way of course. Still, they were as close to family as she possessed in this part of Sunberth, so she treated them with respect of a kind – just in case she might ever need them. “Zandelia, missive for you,” the voice of a clerk drew her out of her reverie of considering the layout of The Establishment in her mind, “Braga’s Happy Endings. Another young girl gone to sell her…assets…for coin. She’s already left and looked to have long legs. Might need to run the whole way on this one and use shortcuts where you can. Go! Go!” the clerk passed her the black envelope, name scrawled on and all and shooed her towards the door. Normally such an act would annoy her somewhat, but in this instance she saw it was seen as a favour. If she did not hurry as quickly as possible she might not get there before the client, and that would leave her in Tua’s distaste. No-one wished to be on the darker side of that old spider. Right then! Last job of the day and it’s a good one! she thought to herself as she tucked the letter inside her black robes and set out of the door at a slight jog, warming herself up for the blistering pace she knew she would need to set.

[Zandelia]

Castle Commons Zandelia exited the establishment at around a quarter of her full speed, turning sharply to her left as soon as she left the frames of the doors behind, heading eastwards on her initial path, knowing that though there was a strict time limit on this particular job – more than usual in point of fact – it would still be far safer and less risky to skirt around the area and head through the Castle Commons Markets as her first port of call. There would be more people there she knew, however weaving around, and through, them would be less troubling and time consuming that having to deal with the dozens of small-time cutthroats that could be found in the immediate are of the Establishment, not to mention directly between her place of employment and the Daggerhand territory Brega’s could be found within. No, I’m not getting my throat cut this day, not at all she confirmed with herself before increasing her pace, her limbs and lungs now used to the exertion she was pushing herself through and able to shift to a higher tempo without injury. Her legs shifted into a faster rhythm, her breathing becoming deeper yet faster, aiming to compensate for the new level of oxygen debt that would be building within her muscles. Using her arms to propel her ever forwards she burst into the Castle Commons markets at a speed that startled those who first saw her. Perhaps they thought her a vagabond or thief running from a victim, however they soon saw that she was alone and went about their daily routines, uninterested and bored by her spectacle already. The area around her as certainly packed with people, however she did not slow. No, instead she altered her course, heading not through the crowd but the sides, where the stalls were located for the most part. Their rears would be clear, she knew, but too tight to keep up the necessary speed she would need to complete the missive run. Her mind raced and quickly agve her the resolution. Time to go to the shops she thought to herself with devious relish as she approached the side of the first stall. She vaulted over its wooden structure, her feet landing soundly on the other side as the merchant owner jumped with surprise at her sudden appearance. She did not give him time enough to react as she smoothly jumped over the next bit of his stall and was no longer within his domain. She managed to get a few more yards of clear ground before a fairly small stall with an awning came into her path. Again, she did not stop, instead choosing to use the struts of the awning as a swing, leaping up and grabbing it with her hands, her momentum carrying her forwards and in a floating – yet strangely arced – motion that cleared the stall entirely. She felt a slight pang of guilt for the owner, however, as she left him behind in the dirt as her foot had clipped him soundly in the side of the head. “Well, he should be ready for such thing I guess” she panted to herself as she could feel the sweat beading across her entire body, creeping into her clothing and damping the material of her robes. She ran onwards, ever aware of the time slipping past her as she saw another stall ahead, this one far too tall for her previous tactics to work. No, instead she noted a hole in its bottom corner, obviously used to ship goods through considering its size. She dropped down, slid through the dirt – dust filling her nostrils as she went and causing her to sneeze a little. It hurt like the blazes and she knew that some new bruises would appear on her left side from that tactic, but it had passed her through the back of the stall and she sprang up as the alarmed own started to pick up a club-like weapon. “No time” she screamed at him in distraction, giving him slight pause but pause enough to heave herself to her feet and through the other side of the stall. She was now a bit bruised and battered – par for the course as a word runner – but out the other side of the castle Commons Markets and padding into the network of streets and alleyways on the other side. These, she knew, would have to be her next route on the way to Brega’s. She did not relish the idea of that either.

[Zandelia]

The Alleyways The alleyways were devoid of life for the first few twists, turns and straights, and Zandelia took advantage of that fact as she sped down each section at full speed, sprinting as fast as she could – keeping her breathing as even and non-ragged as possible, filling her lungs to their fullest through her nose and expelling all of their contents swiftly through her mouth before repeating the cycle that for a few minutes was her whole world. She kept going, focusing on her breathing, on her footsteps and upon her swinging arms as she rolled from heel to the ball of her foot – again and again and again. It was not to last, however, that she knew very well. The only reason she let caution fly out of her mind for the first leg of her journey through the rabbit warren of alleys was that, in this part of Sunberth, the cut-throats and vagabonds only occupied the deepest parts of the network, leaving the outlying portions to lower-end rogues and petty thieves. And none of those would give me pause, not when I could simply stab them through the chest without a thought. No, they would leave one such as me alone even if they saw me at any rate. No one challenges a well armed person, running at full speed, by themselves she thought to herself as she let herself slow down slowly, over a period of a minute or so, so that her muscles would not immediately cramp up and become useless. No, she knew they would rather stick to picking pockets without much risk, but fewer returns. Life was fleeting in Sunberth and none threw it away needlessly. She finally came to a stop next to a corner and took a few deep, slow breaths to try and correct the imbalance of her body and restore much needed oxygen to her body. A she did so she pulled up the hood of her Shadowsilk Robes, pulling it over her head so that her light blonde hair was fully covered, leaving one less easily noticeable feature for others to spot her by. She did not have any wrappings to cover her face, not yet, so her face was still partially visible, but she would not so easily be noticed by the casual observer as she scanned her way through the next portion of her journey. “Time to learn what’s around the bend” she whispered to herself carefully, edging herself around the corner and crouching to the ground at the same time. She took in the situation quickly, noticing about 7 thugs spread out across the next few crossings of alleyways in front of her and she reacted with lightning speed, twisting around and whirling back from whence she had come, her robes rippling quickly out behind her, disappearing just as effectively. She cursed to herself privately and quickly decided what to do. She had noted that there were a number of barrels, crates and lengths of refuse wood scattered between her and the thugs, and if she could recall it correctly there was a larger stack not far from her own corner that would give access to the rooftops. She poked her head back around briefly to confirm and returned to her secreted position – a smile upon her lips. Taking to the rooftops, how original she chortled mentally as she flicked around the corner again, this time slinking down low and making her way, placing her feet quickly but silently on the balls of her feet, until she was crouched down behind one of the larger crates, hidden from the prying eyes of the group of vagabonds ahead of her. She shifted until she could see through the slit between her crate and the one next to it. The gap was only a few inches thick, but it was enough to spy upon the movements and motions of those she wished to avoid the notice of. She sat there for a number of seconds, studying them, and saw that only two ever looked her way for any portion of time and that the others obviously must have had instruction to watch over other entrances or exists to their little den of vice. She waited for her moment, picked it well enough as she could, and then slithered into action. She snuck behind the crate to her left, rolled across the dusty cobbles and behind the crate on the other side of the alleyway. That done she began to stealthily scale the stacked crates, using her fingertips and fingernails to gain purchase as she propelled herself up into more stable positions with her toes. She made it up slowly, slower than she would have liked, but she could afford the few minutes longer it took her as long as she stayed alive. At the top she gripped the edge of the flattened roof the crates terminated at and dragged herself onto its surface. Rolling a few times she came up onto her feet again, ready to continue her much needed journey. The only question is how in the name of Akajia I will get back down again! she asked herself as she set off across the rooftops.

[Zandelia]

The Rooftops Zandelia could see the rooftops stretching out before her, the small alleyways between buildings seeming to be extremely thin canal-like slithers in a world of ramshackle rooftop-created islands. She smiled to herself, feeling as if she were a giant in her own little playground, able to see for hundred of yards and not seeing a single obstacle – other than a few impassably thick ‘canals’ she could not jump over, even if she tried. She had a revelation for once, that this was how word runner’s were supposed to travel – in safety, in speed and unobserved. It was a poor belief to hold as truth in Sunberth however, she knew that too well. As she set off, speeding up occasionally to jump across a thin alleyway here and there, hoping that no one would look upwards to see the black blur shifting above them, she reflected that there were only a few places in the city where it would be possible – but that in those few places, however, she would see if she could do it once more. It damn well beats the hell out of getting stabbed, beaten or raped she thought to herself in satisfaction as she jumped across another alleyway, landed soundly upon her feet, skidded a little and stopped to re-assess her directions. She scanned around, trying to discern the way to Brega’s from the local landmarks and the shapes of the alleys ahead of her. She looked elft, and then right, judging distance based upon the Slag Heap fire and the larger gaps in the networks ahead of her for what must be the Slave Markets and others. She set off, pacing quickly to her right and leaping across the next gap – her footing slipping slightly and causing her to falter, her heart racing as she thought what it would be like to fall briefly, before regaining her footing and continuing onwards. She was then met with a more difficult obstacle, a gap she could not cross. She was forced to detour, skirting around it, picking her way ehre and there, left and right, until she had made it around, knowing that she had lsot vital tiem trying to do so. “I need to get down from this damned roof system!” she growled to herself, seeing a larger gap ahead once more. This time, instead of skirting around, she padded to the edge and squatted down at it’s edge – peering over to see if there were any possibilities open to her. She stared, hawk-like at anything that might be of use for a good minute until she noticed something about half-way down the other side of the alleyway gap. It was a stack of crates, like the one she had used to get on to the rooftop in the first place. She could, theoretically, jump off of her current position and grab on to the edge of the crate on the other side of the alley. It was stupid, it was suicidal, but it was….quicker. She shook her head at her own insanity and shifted back from the edge of her side of the alleyway. She took a few deep breaths as she lined herself up carefully and shook out her limbs in preparation for her possibly imminent death. She gave one last, deep breath out through her mouth and burst into action, speed governing her every thought, pushing herself forwards and timing her footfalls so that her last step was right on the edge, almost over the lip, and sprung herself out into the abyss with her strong leg muscles. Akajia…please was her only thought as air became her only surroundings.

[Zandelia]

The Ground Time slowed, actions creeping from normal speed down to around a quarter of their normal time-span. Her arms, stretching out in preparation for catching the stack of crates ahead of her seemed to move too slowly to be successful. To her right, out of the corner of her eye she noticed the mundanity of a bird in flight made more interesting as it made a slow motion dive towards its prey – its wings folding inwards lethargically enough for her to see the feathers themselves ruffle with the motions. Her mind, faced with the possibility of its won death, noticed details that were both unimportant and incredibly magical in their own right. The way the clouds moved across the sky, a child’s laughter echoed in her ears and the rat that padded along the roof opposite her – all of these details would not normally be given credence, however her mind seemed to pick them out to share its last moments with. Beautiful it thought as time seemed to realize its temporary absence, rushing back with a vengeance, speeding up time beyond its normal speed for the crucial last few moments of her flight. Her body crashed into the top edges of the crates she had aimed for, her ribs smashing into the side of their solid structures and immediately spurting the airs out of her lungs in one giant, agonized breath. She was winded now, though luckily she had not broken any ribs, her arms and body positioning having cushioned most of the force of the impact into solid wooden plank. For that she was grateful, however only for a mere few seconds. Her body sprang back from the wood of the crates, the force of her lump being repelled by the sheer solidity of the destination. She found herself frantically scrabbling for purchase, trying vainly to stop her downward fall with her fingers unheeding of the splinters that she would probably need to dig out of her skin after she had finished her task. “Petching….hell…”she wheezed, trying vainly to breathe in another lungful of air as her elbows slid over the top of the crate stack and all that was left to stop her falling was her tenuous finger grip, her feet slipping and sliding as she tried to get them to take a grip to the rough wood. She fingers began to ache as the skin was slowly scraped off, still slipping ever closer to the edge. Zandelia was beginning to panic now, but trying to contain her blind fear. She scanned her eye around, looking for a possibility – any possibility – for survival. She found it in the shape of some rotten barrels, almost directly below her. They were rotten, and they would hurt she knew – but they would cushion her fall enough to mean she was bruised rather than killed. She grunted to herself, not believing how her luck had turned to insanity so quickly. Finally the soles of her boots found purchase and she was able to maintain an uncomfortable ledge-hanging position. She tried to look for another route, hoping for something else. All she found was a secondary stack of crates, next to the one she was hanging from, that she could use to lower her overall height for when she dropped. Bloody fantastic she told herself as she shifted her feet, moving her hands one at a time to the edge of the crate, following with her foot placements, and then swung herself to the side and downwards. A few more switches of handhold, and foot holds, and she was a good three feet closer to the floor and thought she might even be able to land on her feet – if she rolled on impact. Then, she had no other choice. She took a breath, which made her ribs ache somewhat, and flung herself sideways in order to give herself momentum with which to roll effectively. As she hit the ground her legs bent, collapsing perfectly as she pitched herself forwards. Her bodyweight went into a somersault motion, rolling across her shoulders and lower back, rapidly coming around into another roll before she was able to turn it into a motion back onto her feet. Her legs ached and her ankles felt pained, but she was alive and still moving – and that was ultimately what mattered. She looked to her left and right to get her bearings before setting off. “Only a few minutes left now Zandelia, and then you can rest” she told herself as she pushed herself into a shuffling jog towards Brega’s and her final destination.

[Zandelia]

Brega’s House of Happy Endings Zandelia was bruised, battered and tiring now but she was so very close to Brega’s now that the sheer joy of the impending cessation of this particular journey was beginning to seep into her very bones – giving them a strength of endurance that she was grateful for. She had noticed this several times before, how the ending of a journey being in site seemed to make her body slip into a state of non-pain and endless energy. She had pondered that this was a reaction to the fact that her body was predicting its quickly approaching rest period and expending what energy it had left under the intrinsic knowledge that it would have time to recover soon enough. However, or why it ever, happened she was still grateful as she sped through the streets towards Brega’s House of Happy Endings. She zigzagged through the crowds of people, making sure not to knock them as she cut around another corner, slipped through an alleyway, and came out the other side directly in front of her destination. There we are my little beauty! she crooned to herself with glee, seeing it was a mere hundred meter sprint to the doors. Sprint she did, too, upping her pace to a speed that caused many to watch her with consternation as she flew by, leaving them in her dust – after a fashion. She pumped her arms, felt her legs stretch as the gap in front of her called her onwards, her knees raising higher to provide greater spring upon their impact with the ground. Her robes whipped out behind her, rippling with her self-created slipstream. It was a series of deep breaths, lungful after lungful, through the nose and then through the mouth, and then she was being forced to slow down as the doors rapidly grew larger, large enough that she had to skid to a halt towards the end to stop herself cannoning through them and into Brega’s at a speed that would certainly invite decapitation. She mounted the wooden steps, the men and women working the front of the establishment throwing her quizzical looks, and pushed open the doors, letting them shut themselves behind her. “What can I do for you darlin’. You lookin’ for a good time or are you wantin’ a knock with Karl’s club ‘ere” came the gruff and grating voice of a guard as soon as she entered, his hands shifting upon what appeared to be a table leg rammed through with cruel nails, rusty and as like to kill from disease and infection rather than the wounds they would inflict. “I’m here to deliver a message, and won’t be stopped by the scum of Sunberth, now I’m walking past and going to the counter. If you want to try an stop me then go ahead, but I’m not in the bloody mood” she retorted to him. As he moved to block her path anyways she pulled the black letter from the depths of her robes and he grunted, shrugged and pointed her to a back corner. She walked over, noting how the insides of the little establishment were far more luxurious than the outside. Comfortable chairs, sofa’s and lushious rugs were in abundance. Fires crackled to keep out the cold and lanterns and candles allowed an exotic mood to be reflected across the walls. It was not a bad place, not like she had imagined, though she still would not want to waste her money within its walls. As she went through another half-closed off section she saw a heavy-set and polished oaken counter where a woman poured over a series of books of some sort. She shrugged to herself and walked up, placing the letter upon the shiny surface of the counter – the woman not paying her the least bit of attention. “I’m looking fo-“ she began, but got cut off. “Brega. Yes, I know, and you have found her child. You come from Tua, and I have a letter for him also,” she stated, slipping her own upon the counter for Zandelia to take and put into the depths of her robes whence the other had been extricated from, “if you ever desire a career her girl then do feel free to give me a visit. I can’t bear to see pretty girls such as yourself, scar and all, left to fend with that spider” she spoke, her words becoming sensual themselves. She merely nodded and was about to turn away when Brega touched her hand and drew her attention to her face, and Zandelia’s heart melted. She could not help but feel as if she were in the presence of sexual beauty itself as the woman gave her a full-lipped smile and a stroke of the hand upon her own. She shuddered with pure desire, her very soul wishing it could merge with Brega in consummate union. It lasted merely a flash, a second or two, and Brega was once more intent upon her books and Zandelia was left feeling as if she had been splashed with buckets of icy water. As she walked away she shivered at the experience she had had and tried to regain her composure, her cheeks burning scarlet as the guards laughed at her on her way out. “Come on Zandelia, get your head on straight. Time to go back to Tua’s” she told herself, setting off on the jogging journey back to The Establishment, her job done and the other letter on its way back to its master.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia found herself wishing that she had spent rather more time in exercising and looking after her body than sitting in taverns hoping for snippets of information and rumour to fall into her brain over the last few months or so as she made her way back to The Establishment and her next missive running mission. Her body was beginning to adapt to its new workload, slowly but surely, however it was a far flung state from what it had once been. She remembered a time when muscle rippled across her limbs and when her skin was tighter, her form more lifted and lean. Those were days consigned to the mists of time, she knew, however she was reclaiming a semblance of her healthy youth with each passing hour of running she put herself through. Still, her speed returning to Tua, the spider with the secrets, was much slower than that used in the flight to Brega’s.

No need to bloody kill myself after all she thought to herself as she pushed herself onwards, breathing in a rhythmic manner in order to keep up her light jog without much hindrance.

Still, her pace was far quicker than those whom were gathered and moving in the wide streets she stuck to on her return sojourn, their ambling and relaxed walking interrupting her concentration many times. In the end she began to find it a frustrating practise as she was forced time and time again to jump to the side of an idle figure, dancing around the and through them with leaping bounds that she thought might begin to rival Bob Barton at a time of crisis. Her legs were beginning to tire considerably, their strength no longer able to lend itself to the dodging and weaving she wished they could. Her breathing was becoming ragged, sweat staining her brow and back and her hair sticking to her scalp as its rat tails entwined themselves together.

“Bloody bastards…getting in…the…petching way” she panted to herself as she was forced for the third time to dart against a wall, using it as a springboard to avoid a larger throng of dallying feet blocking her path.

As it transpired it was those words that drew the attention of a duo of figures that were not at all close to what she desired to meet on her day of employment. At first she did not recognise them at all, but then she had had a lot to drink that night and the concussion had muddled much of her memory too. As the two men approached her she cursed under her breath as recognition seeped into her skull – two men with a grudge to bear after being handed a well-deserved beating. She had little strength left to fight and so her only option was flight. She spat in their general direction and felt her robes whirl around her as she turned on her heel and sprinted as fast as she could force herself without danger. As she approached an alleyway she skidded to the side, righting herself barely, and sped down its channel.

“Get ‘er!!” screamed one of the men.

“Damned bitch whore!” the other cursed at her, their voices seeming closer by the second in their grumbling.

She weaved in as many differing directions as she was presented with, however her pursuers still kept on her trail to the point that she began to wonder if they were pat hound – though in Sunberth nothing would surprise her at all. Still, she was forced to think of alternate means of escape and thankfully she was presented just that in the form of a mound of smashed timber and a length of rope that all but took her off her feet as it partially tripped her as she stepped across it. Slamming into the wall she cursed, snatched at it and kept on running. She kept her eye upon the rooftops, looking for her opportunity and ready to use it as soon as it arose.

“Come on” she grunted between breaths and almost cheered when it cropped up before her.

She whirled the rope around, the fractured plank on the end, and threw it up to catch upon the lip of a gutter. It whipped around, entangling itself together around the rusted frame and she tugged at it hard a few times to see if it would take her weight. She had little time, voiced by the growing sounds of the two men behind her, and she merely heaved herself up bit by tiny bit, placing her feet upon the wall and using her arms to pull herself as she walked up the wall, after a clumsy fashion. Hauling herself over the precipice she saw the rope tug taut as the pair intended to continue their pursuit. She waited a few seconds before pulling out her dagger and slashing the rope so that they fell to the ground in a sprawling heap. Rolling to her feet once more she regained her bearings when she saw the landmark of the Temple and set off in its general direction.

The rest of her journey passed without incidence, save that of the leaping from rooftop to rooftop and the speed at which she fled back to The Establishment. It took her perhaps half a Bell to navigate their patchwork nature, in the end finding a lower rooftop that she jumped down to before swinging her body back to the firmness of the ground once more. As she slammed through the door to her place of employment she was tired, angry and thoroughly soaked with sweat – vowing to kill the damned ‘Canaries’ if she ever got the chance to.

[Archelon]

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Zandelia : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Running 5 Jumping 3 Climbing 2 To the roofs! Observation 3 Acrobatics 3 Navigation 1 Evasion 1 The ability to dodge attacks with finesse in close quarters Lores: Sunberth: Brega's House (basic) Lesser Gangs of Sunberth: Yellow Canaries(basic) Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Nice thread, good transitioning throughout. overall:) Beware the sunberth's roofs though, most of the sections of the city- being on top of them is not a good idea XD. Still : Good job