Closed Ridiculous.

[Aidan]

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

Ridiculous.

Postby Ehati on May 18th, 2013, 6:47 am

81st of Spring, 513 AV

She didn't often get to patrol in armour within the walls of Stormhold, but she relished the change in the repetitive lifestyle she led. For once, the crowded and bustling streets did not irk her nor slow her from getting to where she wanted to go. She moved at the pace the other bodies dictated, followed the eddies of the crowd, but managed to maintain her constant, fierce, vigilance that so often reminded people of poofed up roosters strutting their business.

She smiled at a few vendors as she made her rounds in the Bazaar, nodding at a few recognisable faces from the sea of bodies. There were tall people around and she found it hard to see over them sometimes, but the good thing about the citizens was that they could identify a person on sight who belonged to the Syliran Knights and part themselves. The also made sure to behave most of the time, which was a bonus for her because then she didn't have to exactly put on her authority and tell people to behave or they could go rot in the Tank and think about their problems before meeting with those that would ensure they were properly punished. That was one of the things she most appreciated about Syliras, afterall. Like Wind Reach, there were very defined laws and a steady punishment to make sure they learned their lesson for a long while. Upholding that law made her glad.

Her smile was genuine as she walked.

OOCWas this what you had in mind?
Sera Ehati, 3rd Wing, Orange Company, 1st Regiment, Silver Quadron.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Aidan Sutter on May 20th, 2013, 7:05 pm

OOCSorry for the time this took. And I also apologize for the length.
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“Ah, petch…”

The sigh that escaped Aidan’s lips was one of vexation, palms coming to rest on the gentle slopes of his hips as his eyes gazed upwards for an appeal from the gods. Remi had offered to make a list of what she needed from the market before he’d set off on the errand that day, but his own hubris had gotten the best of him. Now, stranded amidst a host of denizens who seemed to have better reason for being there than he, Aidan felt like an island midst a rolling sea.

“Look out, scrum!”

Suddenly jabbed in the shoulder by a similar, more meaty appendage, the cook found himself teetering on a single foot before he managed to regain his balance only a few feet away from where he‘d stood. The trinkets around his neck jingled lightly against his breast bone, soft music to his ears that offered a polite reminder to the virtues that went against seeking swift retribution.

A dull throbbing within the muscle rose and fell like the crest of a wave passing beneath a pier, gone before he had time to wince or even catch a glimpse of who‘d struck him. But where the intrusion lacked in spiking his blood pressure, it made up for in the shameful realization that he was obstructing traffic.

Some quick and fancy footwork saw Aidan dancing around the more purposeful feet of others to the edge of the bustle, suddenly placed before a merchant’s stall that was peddling a host of colorful peppers from hanging strings. The provisions looked more like decoration than they did cooking supplement in their current state, their vague scent only hinting at their powerful sapor.

Aidan’s eye for value quickly diverted his attention away from any remnant of insult to his pride, fingers reaching up to hold the ends of the hanging peppers with a certain delicacy one might see more often in the jewel crafting business. He knew they were not the reason for his visit, but his attention span was currently possessed by that of a child, and the colors were visually stimulating.

“Do you see something you like?” A young woman’s meek voice broke past the murmur that plagued the market, soft like a silk sheet being slowly unraveled.

Aidan’s sharp blue eyes were momentarily diverted to its source, catching within their grasp a small woman of mixed descent whose tawny robe brushed with the floor. If the cook had to guess, he would have pegged her as being of a heavily diluted Eypharian stock. Her hair was braided into blackest ribbons, doe eyes a soft brown that complimented a malnourished face. What she was doing in a city like Syliras completely eluded Aidan’s best deductions.

The impish smile that registered on the man’s lips was easy on the eyes if not condemning, a slight hint of red gracing his cheeks. Dropping his hands away from the produce almost as if he was in fact guilty of something, Aidan brushed a hand through his hair before pulling both arms to the small of his back.

”Never seen peppers so col’rful. Must be the soil, ‘eh?”

The woman’s expression tilted towards a mixture of suspicion and intrigue, weighing the cook with an eye that measured his good characteristics against the more questionable ones. Satisfied enough not to turn him away, she offered a narrowing smile that kept its guard. “And what would a Syliran like you know of soil conditions, hm?”

”Oh, not much really. I just use what grows out of it for a few creations. I’m a cook, y’see.”

The woman’s expression softened a touch, daring to approach closer as she eyed the string of peppers Aidan’s hands had been appraising. “These are grown further south,” she stated matter of factly, “where the climate is more arid. It gives them a sharper taste. Perhaps too hot for palates the likes of a Syliran’s. But added to a dish in the right amount, if you are indeed a cook, can give it more flavor than…”

“Well look who it is…”

Out of the darkness the sudden guttural voice stifled the woman’s own and tore the coloring away from Aidan’s face completely. It was a voice that registered easily to those who had dealings with it, and was inherently lathed with a certain sense of foreboding.

The cook felt a heavy hand crash like a lead weight upon his shoulder from behind, turning him around predatorily to face a man he did not want to owe money to, but did. The crooked smile aimed in his direction was one that had seen years of being a part of a disreputable enterprise. Syliras didn’t allow for organizations of the underworld to form, but it also couldn’t stop the occasional thug from slipping into the system. Mudd, as he was so affectionately named, was one of those thugs.

“Got my money, Sutter?”

”Uh, still working on it…”

“Wot’s that? So why are you here, then?”

”Spending some money that’s not mine,” the cook replied indifferently. Rarely did his tongue get him out of as much trouble as it did immerse himself within it.

Anger bristled at the corners of Mudd‘s retina in reply, his hand squeezing on Aidan’s shoulder, forcing compliance, and leading the pair astray from the stall and back into the moving crowd. His voice was barely a whisper, but his chapped lips were so close to Aidan’s ear that it hardly made a difference. His breath smelled of rotten eggs.

“You scream out, and I’ll shiv you where y’stand and be gone ‘afore anyone sees me.”

”You shiv me and you won’t get your money,” Aidan sighed in hushed tones, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the scent that filled his nostrils.

“One dead Sunberthan is ‘ardly worth cryin’ over. ‘Least then you won’t be able to cheat anyone else out their money.”

The irony of the statement left a roguish smirk on Aidan’s face. ”Believe it was you who cheated me, my friend.”

As much as was to be expected, the cook felt the point of a blade draw pressure against the skin covering his liver. Chancing a look to see the weapon would be folly, but Aidan could tell that no one else seemed to take notice as they passed. It could only mean that the man was smart enough to keep its glinting edge masked from view. So on they strode through the Bazaar, seemingly untroubled by any life or death situation.

Meanwhile, back at the stall, the young woman whose presence had been robbed of a potential sale watched as the retreating pair became nothing more than another set of bobbing heads lost in the crowd. Abandoning her business would mean the potential thief could stroll by and take from her whatever they pleased, but at that moment it seemed more important that she found help.

And when one needed help in Syliras, they looked for the Knights.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Ehati on May 21st, 2013, 7:33 am

She was making her way through the Bazaar at her own easy pace, as oblivious to the happenings at the pepper stall as the merchants were. Ignorance was truly bliss, for the short woman had been in a pleasant mood while being unaware to what was happening. There were no signs something was happening under her watch and she didn't question hurried gaits that departed her vicinity when she approached. It was so rare she had the opportunity to enjoy herself while in Syliras, and yet soon enough the pleasant day would have to come to an end.

It started with the boy.

He grabbed her plated wrist with surprising grip for one of his age, halting the knight he was almost as tall as, and plead to her to accompany him to a worried merchant at the pepper stall Ehati had wandered by not a handful of chimes earlier. With a frown and a growing sense of wariness, she followed the child willingly, her sense of duty far outweighing her desire to enjoy her day. If a merchant was on the receiving end of trouble, she would ensure no harm came to the civilian and her attackers dealt with. It was for insurance that she hailed down two other knights on patrol to assist her. After all, many people she associated as bad were taller than her. Some comfort was afforded her when the two males approached and joined her, flanking her and the child as they half ran, half shoved, their way through the crowd to find the woman looking worried at her stall with no visible attacker in sight.

"What's going on here?" Ehati demanded of the merchant, who stood wringing her delicate hands. She was a pretty thing, and young. Surely if somebody were harassing her she would look more frightened though. "Why have you called for us?"

"There was a man here. Kindly fellow. Interested in my wares," the woman began, breathless and hurried. The stern look on Ehati's face betrayed nothing of her impatience for the woman's taxing tale about a prospective buyer with a handsome bearing. One of the men with her expressed his impatience with punctual sighs that increased in volume the longer the woman wound on. They stopped once she got into a hurriedly delivered plea for help for the 'poor man' who was obviously in trouble.

Ehati's frown deepened considerably during the tale, etching years into her face that weren't there before and giving her the appearance she might have if she lived to die of old age. Acquiring a description of the endangered civilian was relatively easy, being as the woman had gotten a good look at his face during their discussion on peppers, but the other man, the bad one, she had nothing to offer that would help but that he was tall and somewhat heavier in build. Ehati nodded and thanked the woman, then dismissed her casually by turning to face her comrades. While she held no real rank in the Order, she still claimed demand of the situation with having called the men to her in the first place and the unwavering determination in her eyes that said she wouldn't relinquish to them unless they fought her for it.

"Well?" She barked, her voice sharp and edged. The men smiled, almost with anticipation, but she didn't smile in return. A good day ruined by a man and his bad debts, she anticipated only the setting of the sun when she would be able to go home and get rest.

The three of them jogged off after the two men through the crowd, earning more than a few interested gazes.
Last edited by Ehati on May 29th, 2013, 4:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
Sera Ehati, 3rd Wing, Orange Company, 1st Regiment, Silver Quadron.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Aidan Sutter on May 24th, 2013, 11:32 pm

Image

Mudd was not a handsome fellow, which gave Aidan the impression that “Mudd” was less his gods given name, and more a well bestowed moniker he took a disfigured pride in. Flesh sagged from the man’s cheeks to form jowls beneath his chin, tugging at the lower lids of his eyes to reveal a crescent of scarlet normally hidden. His dark hair was fraying along the top of his scalp, though what parts he managed to grow were trimmed neatly; likely to avoid the onset of lice, or perhaps abstain from offering a grip when his negotiations devolved into throwing fists.

The man was hardily built along both torso and arms, but getting down to his gut revealed a sizable paunch that pressed against the folds of his tunic and cloak. His clothing itself was made of both dappled gray and fading blue wools, spots of questionable origin riddling the cloth in a hackneyed spray. Despite this, the man smelled faintly of roses, which gave Aidan the impression that it had not been long since he had taken a bath. At least something pleasant could be derived from the thug’s company…

Paces quickened as they drew further away from the stall, Mudd’s face darkening as though he had become aware of something that missed the mark of Aidan’s own insights. The dagger had relented so as not to cause an accidental wound, but the cook could still feel its steeled tip hovering, poised to strike should he so much as try to wrench free.

“Down here. Quickly,” Mudd’s voice growled, pushing Aidan towards a thoroughfare that saw much less traffic.

”Something troubling you, Mudd?” Aidan’s tongue fiddled with levity, his eyebrows lifting to fit the mockery lacing his tongue.

“Shuddup you,” the man hissed, forcing the pair down a small alleyway between two stalls that were empty. “Stand here and keep your trap shut.”

”Are you--” Before he could say another word, Aidan felt a set of flattened knuckles strike him across the cheek, twisting his face to the side as the back of Mudd’s hand fell away.

“I said shut it, Sutter.”

Aidan’s expression countered the thug’s own with a stone like glare, the skin along his cheek reddening as he stared into the man’s dark and heavyset eyes. He could again feel the dagger pressing against his abdomen, an insurance policy against him doing something stupid. There they waited, like two men having a normal conversation that was kept to mere whispers. What their lips failed to utter however, was made up for by the grim exchange of glances they passed between one another.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Ehati on May 29th, 2013, 4:25 am

"Move it, scrum!" The male knight barked at the unwary citizen as he blocked the uniformed man's path. Ehati didn't turn to listen or look. It would sort itself out, perhaps at the cost of wounded pride, but such things were inconsiquential when it came to the scheme of things. There were two men who were more important than a silly little customer lollygagging rather than buying. Who knew what was going to happen to the one that had been most reluctantly pulled away? The merchant had sounded unsure, herself.

Nobody wanted to find a peniless corpse hidden in the alley with no sign of the murderer.

"I'll go here, you two fish around a bit more," Ehati called out. It had become apparent that the citizenry weren't oblivious to the signs of trouble, but instead of crowd around and make a scene they had smartly decided to continue on as though nothing were happening, content that there were armed men and women out there to make sure the traders weren't waylaid by the dark man in the alleyway. If only there weren't need to have armed officials to patrol, but some wishes could never be granted and human nature always prevented fair dealings without the threat of arrest looming in the crowd.

She stumbled into an alcove, perhaps a little breathless from the paced jog she had cut through the winding crowds, and drew the sword of her mountain home just in case. There wasn't much here other than a few crates of produce and supplies. She poked around nonetheless, inspected the untouched dirt, and then moved out back into the glorious glare of Syna above. It was midday, she noted, before she continued on. Her partners were off investigating their own little niches and she passed one of them that was peering under one of the more questionable stalls. It occured to Ehati then that the two men could be in the stores as well. She huffed. Three knights couldn't cover all that in a short bit of time before somebody lost their life, unfortunately. They'd have to continue like this until they found more knights not loaded down with guests asking questions to give them a hand.

She shook her hair, ran a hand through it to clear some of the sweat from the nape of her neck caused by her haste, the heat, and the stifling plate armour she was forced to wear, before she returned to the search. The next alcoves and alleyways were empty, home to vermin and empty crates and refuse.

Her nose was still wrinkled when she entered the next alley, the scent of the refuse seeming to cling to her like a creeper. There were two men there, amid the clutter of customary litter that seemed to clog the forgotten alleys. She appraised them both, gaze cool and hard as she brought up the description again. They looked like men in a quiet conversation, huddled as they were, and she grabbed the hilt of her resheathed talon sword as she neared them, holding herself as though to impress upon them her authority. While maybe not the suspect and his would-be victim/accomplice, Ehati was obliged to not let them slip away. She didn't fail to notice, though, that she was one small woman facing two grown men. Let that be to their demise, she thought grimly as she neared, getting closer to them.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Aidan Sutter on June 10th, 2013, 6:53 pm

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Mudd’s grumbling voice followed a string of dark expletives no child’s ears should have been audience to, prompting even his Sunberthan captive to look upon the man with a questioning stare. But Aidan knew there was perfect reason for him to be unsettled. Operating in a city like Syliras was tantamount to the life of a fox being chased by an army of hounds day and night. The cook felt a small trace of pity crawl into his conscience just watching Mudd try to calculate their next move, seemingly to little avail.

“Could always let me go. Live to fight another day,” Aidan mused in hushed tones, folding his hands in front of him and resting them against his pelvis.

“Not so easy, Sutter.” Mudd’s voice was menacingly calm, his blood-cradled eyes languishing with a tangible malignancy. “If we get caught, your debt’ll be the least o’ your probl’ms.”

Aidan paused while his next words hung upon the tip of his tongue, considering for a moment just what options were left. Then, features brightening, the cook smiled and sighed easily.

“Suppose you should let me do the talking, then? Not that your charms are in any way shadowed by mine, it’s just that…”

“Your desp’ration works in your fav’r?”

“Not as stupid as you look, Mudd,” Aidan chuckled, though it was cut short by the pressure of the knife against his tunic once more.

“Not as slow, neither,” Mudd shot back, adding enough pressure to the blade to goad a wince out of his captive. “Think I hear someone comin’…”

Both men listened to the stillness of the empty alley, the dull murmur of merchants and their prospective clients a hum of bees flitting back and forth in the distance. Droplets of water splashed into a puddle from a nearby crack in the masonry, and the air around them was quiet enough that they could hear themselves breathing. It was the quiet before the storm, the climax coming to a head.

The grating sound of steel armor brushing against itself was faint at first, no more than a sound to be confused with the rest of their surroundings. But soon it grew, the rattle of chain minced with the rhythmic clatter of plated parts bumbling together. Aidan could hear Mudd’s breath seize within his throat and create a knot there, the man’s eyes catching something that set perspiration to his brow.

Aidan saw it too, a shock of red hair draped about the sterling fixture of armor. Her frame was slight as she came into view, but the sword whose hilt her hand was poised over was likely no less sharp, an interesting design that his inexpert eye had never once seen during his travels. The cook wondered just how capable the woman was with wielding it, and whether or not she would be fast enough if Mudd suddenly chose to claim one of them with the end of his knife.

Had his fate not been hanging in the balance, Aidan might have considered her beyond the station for which she represented. Emerald green eyes provided a pleasing contrast to the incarnadine strands of her hair, and from what he could tell from the build beneath her metal casing, she kept her body in good working condition; two traits the cook found hard to resist under normal circumstances.

A vague sense of familiarity crossed his mind when the Knight came to stand before them, her gaze steady and veiled by an air of authority. Aidan’s smile was unconvincing at first, hesitating to speak while he attempted to gain a better understanding of where he’d seen her before. The Stallion was his most likely bet, a host of strangers filling its chairs each evening that one man would find it impossible to remember all of them.

“Greetings, my Lady! Something my friend and I can do for the Knights of the Citadel?”

Where Aidan’s posture was slightly more amicable and open, Mudd brooded in shadow while keeping most of his body curtained off by the rags draping across his shoulders. The knife he held, still covered by the elongated sleeve of his cloak, was pulled back just enough so that his captive could work easily enough without a sharp pointed barrier to restrict his pleasant demeanor.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Ehati on January 2nd, 2014, 8:36 am

Ehati accepted the amicable tone used by the speaker, a man she recognised only barely, with a hollow smile and an incline of her head. She couldn't afford to be distracted, not now.

Looking between the two, shrewd eyes sharp and observant, she could not place either of them as familiar but for the descriptions offered her by the worried merchant left behind at her stall. Her smile dimmed, slightly, as she approached even further, her hand ghosting to more firmly grasp the hilt of the talon at her waist. She was not ignorant to the fact that she was outnumbered and, likely, outmatched, but she had a certain pride and arrogance as well as confidence that gave her the ability to brazenly approach two strangers in the dark and dim of an alley with no others to back her up.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the voice that greeted them bore the distinct edge of an accent from a different part of the world. Birdlike, it had been called, for the enunciation on the vowels and subdued tone of the consonants had brought to mind thoughts of hunting birds singing their war cries and throaty crows calling to their kin. She did not use the comparison herself. "Might I ask what two upstanding men as yourself are doing here?" She looked between them again, the smile ghosting across the mouth that spoke again as though she found humour in the situation. "And, might I entice you both to remove yourself from the alley at once? Perhaps, you may be so kind as to follow me?"

She had decided to act with a decidedly gentle sort of demand shaped in the form of a suggestion. She had the authority here, she wanted them to know, but they had the freedom to deny her and face the consequences if they wished.
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Ridiculous.

Postby Katelyn Marks on December 28th, 2014, 4:10 am

Due Rewards


“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.”
― Philip Pullman

 
Ehati
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  • Observation 3
  • Socialization 2
  • Persuasion 1
  • Tracking 1
  • Investigation 1
  • Intimidation 1
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Aidan
Aiden if you return please send me a message and I'll reward you for this thread.

If you have any concerns or questions about your rewards please feel free to send me a message. Also, please edit your original grade request and mark it as graded. Thank you and enjoy!
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