An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Ignotus Everto on November 25th, 2013, 11:44 pm

Image
54th of Fall, 513AV



There are, as many are aware of, certain individuals in Mizahar whose lives were... Different. Touched, perhaps, by the hand of some unknowable trickster God dictating their every move. And among these, there was a smaller circle of individuals whose exploits have gained enough notoriety to garner the attention of their lessers. Sometimes, this attention was negative. Sometimes it was positive. In this case, a straw-haired Denvali boy of fifteen years named Pavel was looking to give a certain man a token of attention whose nature would not become clear until later.

Unfortunately... the poor lad didn't quite know what he looked like. He had heard of him- whispers, as it were. But he'd never actually seen the Myrian. It was easy to miss someone in a city of twenty thousand.

... But the shirtless guy with the piercings was probably a good start.

Image
A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

Correspondence Thread
User avatar
Ignotus Everto
Only Mostly Mad
 
Posts: 601
Words: 292905
Joined roleplay: May 6th, 2012, 5:57 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Nuit
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Razkar on November 26th, 2013, 1:20 am

Image
"Are you sure it's the weapon that's the problem?"

"Mean what, Seb?"

Ever taken a pleasant walk in Winter, then felt the "ground" beneath you creak? Seb wore that exact same expression of uncomfortable realization. But the jowly sellsword had not survived years in a profession that killed most in a season by being cowardly (well, not when he couldn't get away with it), and turned to face Razkar across the table.

"Meaning, ah, well... you do have... other weapons to practice with. Maybe you're just not giving those enough time-"

"Ach, I know blades. They just... do not feel right. Whenever I try, the edge, the balance, all just..."

Razkar spoke with a dismissive wave of his hand, taking a sip from his mug of dark, foamy ale and hissing at the bitter taste. He spoke as black eyes took in the roiling sea of largely-unwashed humanity in the street before his lodgings. Most gave their table a wide berth, for obvious reasons.

Goddess, I've seen rabid dogs attract less scorn...

"Any idea where they get this brew from?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, 'any idea-'"

"Oh... no, he didn't-" Razkar scrunched his eyes shut for a moment and then shook the verbal thread free, glaring at the closest thing he had to a friend in all Zeltiva. "Look, I did not ask you to come here to talk about wine!"

"Ale."

"What?"

"Nothing, look, I dunno about lakans, Raz. But I've heard the rumors."

Razkar's lips pursed as he heard one of his least favorite phrases. Oh, "the" rumors? How wonderful. Like they walked around and congregated and were... exclusive! As if he was not privy to-

You're not. That's the problem. That's why the human's here... that and you're tired of strangers gawping at you.

"Which are?"

"Oh, that each one has a piece of the Akalaks soul spliced into it. Makes them impossible to be used by anyone else. They go blunt, don't cut, the balance is always off... just like you say."

Seb explained in the worldly tones of one who knew such things intimately, thank you very much. He settled back into his seat, belly protruding upward, and Razkar reminded himself again he'd seen the man hack a Yukman in half with his battle ax. If ever there was a personification of looks being deceiving...

The Myrian scratched around some of the piercings in his face, mainly the honed Dhani bone that went through his chin. Damn it all, but he hated the coming Winter! They always made his... holes, a little more sensitive.

"Micha, don't stare!"

"But Mu-um, he's a picture book, like-"

The rest of the enraptured child's sentence was cut off by her parent's yanking hand, but Razkar had heard enough to pin down the voice it came from. Round, staring, wondrous eyes in a small head, still staring at him with open mouth and free arm pointing with chubby fingers-

-the other held by an incrasingly-nervous mother, who nearly blanched when those black, smoldering eyes flickered from her daughter then up to her, stopping her dead for a heartbeat-

Such a skittish breed.

-before she lurched onward again, leaving the Myrian shaking head head, a little sadly. But what did he expect, really? Even in the middle of Fall he scorned most clothing: breeches and sandals were his only concessions, the former because he wanted some protection from the very un-Falyndar cold, the latter because he'd noticed the Denvali Quarter had... less-than-regular street-sweeping gangs.

Once is enough.

As a result, the whole scarred, puckered, sculpted and ink-strewn panorama of his torso was on display, not to mention his arms. Plenty of heads turned if only to catch a look at him, then walk swiftly on with heads bent in discussion. Razkar had found it a little ego-gratifying in Riverfall; by Syliras the novelty had worn off, and now...

A figure detached itself from the swell of pedestrians. Tall, raw-boned, tanned by long days spent causing and avoiding trouble... quick eyes. East Street Eyes, Seb called them, and the human mercenary found himself unconsciously checking his purse.

"Can I help you, boy?"

The boy kept his eyes fixed on the Myrian, and Razkar noticed his eyes perusing him, flickering carefully across him... as if matching features to some list he'd been given...

"What seek you, boy?"
Image
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Ignotus Everto on November 26th, 2013, 6:40 am

Image
Fwip. A letter produced.
"Razkar?" An identity confirmed.
"Summons for you." A purpose laid.
The Observatory. A scene set.
Ignotus Everto. A player introduced.

"Must be special." muttered the kid. "Getting his attention."
'You going?"

Now, Razkar could very well go right back inside, drink some more, maybe do something unspeakable to Edreina, and burn the- albeit very courteously worded-summons in the fireplace, and the boy wouldn't blink.

If, however, he chose to answer them, then the lad would seize him by the wrist and tell the Myrian urgently, "Don't. Look him. In. The eye."

How encouraging!

Image
A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

Correspondence Thread
User avatar
Ignotus Everto
Only Mostly Mad
 
Posts: 601
Words: 292905
Joined roleplay: May 6th, 2012, 5:57 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Nuit
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Razkar on November 26th, 2013, 12:33 pm

Image
"Name mean anything to you?"

Seb's knotted eyebrows told Razkar the answer before the words were mumbled from his lips, the sellsword staring at the cursive, fastidiously-neat writing as if he could divine some understanding from it.

"No... No, none I've heard of..." Seb's eyes flicked up suspiciously at the waiting Paval, who merely shifted from foot to foot a little uneasily, as if keen to get going. "Could be a trick, y'know. Lure you somewhere they can rob..."

The sentence trailed off and a smile as warm and bright as a winter sunrise broke across Razkar's face. He clapped the human on the shoulder and showed his filed teeth in genuine amusement.

"That is why I keep you around, Seb."

"Because you pay my bar tab?"

The Myrian rolled his eyes and stood, weapons clanking in their sheaths, along with those two useless fucking lakans. Goddess, but he needed to get rid of those. What good was a weapon to any warrior that he could not use? He dropped a couple of mizas on the table and nodded at the building behind them.

"Tell Edreina where I go."

"You sure you don't want me to come, too?"

The Myrian's head cocked to the side. Always a surprise, this human. Just when he thought there was nothing but latent self-interest. But finally he shook his head.

"The parchment was for me, not you."

"You don't know this... Everto, fella. Could be a trap."

A short, sharp bark of laughter as the Myrian removed himself from the table and stepped into the harsh, untrammeled sunlight of Fall. "So could many things be, my friend." Then he turned to the boy and nodded. "Take me."

The smile died as he felt a soft but pressing grip on his wrist. Black eyes flicked down, suddenly hard, confused... hackles raising on the back of his neck and on the palms of his hands.

That warning. Hushed and almost whimpered, eyes pleading, flashing from side to side in the boy's head as if he feared ears on every surface. Razkar blinked once, for a long time.

Paval was terrified... and not of him.

His experience with children was far from bountiful, but the Myrian did his best, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing until those blue orbs swung back to him. Razkar lowered his gaze a tad, accentuating his stare.

"His eyes?"

A jerky nod. A few moments of contemplation from the savage, who suddenly seemed less fitting of that description to Paval. He could almost hear the man's mind whirring away behind those eyes carved from ebony. Razkar may not have been a scholar, but he'd been around Edreina long enough in her studies to know what could be accomplished with eye contact.

"He can... work djed with them?"

He did not wish the press an already tremulous soul, but as a soldier, just not a warrior, he had a healthy contempt for anyone who ran into a potential combat zone without proper intelligence... and he was a little young for self-hatred. Or old.

Really, there's no prerequisite...
Image
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Ignotus Everto on November 28th, 2013, 2:39 am

Image
Razkar's query was met with a blank stare. Apparently higher education wasn't a big priority in Denval. Still, the child was ignorant, not stupid, and so could get the gist of what the Myrian meant.

"They say he drove a woman insane... Just by looking at her." Pavel said as he motioned with his head for Razkar to follow. "I hear he can make people say what he wants them to. Vanish into thin air. Even eat souls."

Some of rumors were easier to vet than others.

Soon they were entering University grounds, and the Observatory loomed above the Old Quarter. The kid pointed him in the rather self-explanatory right direction, then, barring any further questions, took off.

Image
A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

Correspondence Thread
User avatar
Ignotus Everto
Only Mostly Mad
 
Posts: 601
Words: 292905
Joined roleplay: May 6th, 2012, 5:57 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Nuit
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Razkar on November 28th, 2013, 6:26 am

Image
Razkar seemed to stare a hole through the boy as his words tumbled over themselves, each one tinged with fear and wild rumor. The Myrian may have been just that, but barbarians often made the mistake of confusing Myrian was stupid.

Razkar was not, and he knew a hypnotist when he heard one described. The soul-eating? Well, he didn't think that likely, and humans couldn't do that.

Or could they? He'd worked for Haev Provedan, after all. He'd looked into eyes no blacker than his own but infinitely darker.

Anything's possible if you live long enough.

"Lead on, boy."

The squalor of the Denval Quarter quickly dropped away to the kept streets, top hats and window flowers of West Street. The savage mercenary and his scrappy guide attracted a small swarm of buzzing, hissing whispers. Both males ignored if for different reasons. Then they swung upwards and suddenly Razkar was aware of... education. The sense of knowledge hanging thick in the air and-

His jaw tightened; little knots of muscle pulsing angrily for a tick. He remembered this place. It was where he'd been told his lover Ayatah was most likely dead, or lost forever. With a scowl he shoved the thought back down into the bottom of his memory, focused on marching forward, until Paval stopped him in front of...

"What is that?"

"The Observatory."

The boy waited for anything else, but Razkar didn't have anything more. Whomever or whatever was waiting for him certainly wanted privacy, a good view... and wasn't afraid of heights. Threadbare sandals slapping on the cobblestones heralded (or supplied epilogue?) to Paval's vanishing, and Razkar breathed deep, looking up...

He could be looking back at you right now. Sizing you up. Working how to kill you. Perhaps even looking in your eyes.

"Yes, well," Razkar mumbled to himself, reflexively running his fingers lightly over the handles of all six blades strapped to his body. What good they'd do against a mage, he didn't know, but they made him feel better, "Better to see and know than wonder and worry..."

The Myrian strode through the brass-handled doors and took the winding steps up to the heavens, or at least the heavens' most ardent admirer.
Image
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Ignotus Everto on November 29th, 2013, 4:26 am

Image
Not long after he began ascending, Razkar heard a male voice, smooth and measured, apparently holding a one-sided conversation in a language he did not know. One that cut off quite quickly when the Myrian saw the speaker's shadow. In another tick, he came into view.

"Ah! You must be Razkar."

For a supposed great and terrible Hypnotist, he certainly didn't look intimidating. Stately, sure, but that was to be expected. Really, with the fur cloak, the white gloves, and the silver-tipped walking stick, he seemed more a dandy than someone who would be expected to have a tower of doom.

Barely even had that much presence either. Compared to the undisciplined and belligerent Karin, he was downright tiny, with little more than a vague air of authority for one to be suspect of. Although there was the small matter of him being dead. It didn't take an extremely observant person to notice the man was unnaturally pale, didn't breath, and never seemed to blink. Razkar was an extremely observant person.

"I've heard much about you, my dear." drawled the wizard, offering him a silk-shod hand. "Please, walk with me."

If he looked closely, the warrior might have noticed a faint glow coming from the depths of the wizards sleeves- a sign of a man prepared to discover that the stories of Myrian violence were very, very true. Prepared, but not eager to push.

Image
A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

Correspondence Thread
User avatar
Ignotus Everto
Only Mostly Mad
 
Posts: 601
Words: 292905
Joined roleplay: May 6th, 2012, 5:57 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Nuit
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Razkar on November 29th, 2013, 9:22 pm

Image
"Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight,
Don't you dare look at him in the eye..."


He was expecting a monster. Cloaked in shadow and dripping with dread purpose. Eyes like gimlets - not that he'd be looking into them - and words slithering from a mouth fit for a Dhani. But when Razkar came to the plateau and focused on the source of that light, cheery voice, he saw...

Looks like a man ready to go to the playhouse, not rip the souls from maidens.

The Myrian blinked. Was this part of the hypnotism, he thought with a sudden flush of unease? Had it already begun? White gloves, furs, jaunty cane and well-cut pantaloons... he looked more like a merchant or eccentric playwright than a-

Then he saw the pallid features, pale as a corpse not yet given over to rot and putrification. The black veins that were so thin and fragile but even more stark on that cold, lifeless skin. Razkar blinked, browns knotting a touch as he dredged up a name, a face, one he'd sparred with and trained in Syliras, who'd needed his help and-

Isolde. The gentle Nuit. The Dead Walker.

Razkar straightened up and inhaled sharply, as if he'd solved some great puzzle. One of the ageless race of body-snatchers, it seemed. No living being could be so pale... except those deranged, inbred Dhani they'd slaughtered in the deep darkness, and he detected no stink of scales nor venom on this man.

Not in the physical sense, anyway.

"I've heard much about you, my dear. Please, walk with me."

Razkar looked pointedly at the outstretched hand, extended his own... and then kept it moving in a sweeping motion, as if bidding the human to-

"Lead on... please."

If he accepted Razkar would take his place at Everto's side, keeping pace with him, not too close but not far away enough to cause offence... and be out of range for the gladius his right hand rested on.

Old habits died hard, and no Nuit had entered Taloba without being hunted down, butchered and burned within a bell. Razkar had been taught almost since birth to hate and fear such creatures, but...

Isolde was not of that ilk. She was old, very old, but still knew little of the world. This... man, clearly does, but he seeks a discussion, not a body to conquer.

Fine internal counsel. Civilized. Reasonable. Were it not for the ethereal glow highlighting the silken sleeves of Everto's, he might have truly believed it.

"What would you have with this meeting, Mister Everto?"
Image
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Ignotus Everto on November 29th, 2013, 10:50 pm

Image
The wizard was perfectly content to lead, though the Myrian's hand on his sword caused his brow to furrow slightly. "It's quite simple, really." said Ignotus, an indistinct sense of calm clinging to his words. "I would have your services in murder."

Now, if Razkar was averse to such an idea, his indignation (or any other strong emotion) would easily pierce the cloud of relaxation Ignotus had draped over him. Otherwise... Well, there wasn't any need to get too worked up, now was there? The Nuit hadn't spoken in an accusatory manner. If anything, he seemed downright nonchalant about the whole thing.

"I suppose that's a bit hyperbolic, however." he said with a wry smile, "I would like to employ your prodigious sword arm for a couple simple tasks. Child's play, no doubt, for one of your caliber."

A faint swell of pride then, coupled with the unconscious notion of familiarity. A touch of endearment, Ignotus found, was often more than enough to sway a man's opinion. After all, what's one small job?

Image
A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

Correspondence Thread
User avatar
Ignotus Everto
Only Mostly Mad
 
Posts: 601
Words: 292905
Joined roleplay: May 6th, 2012, 5:57 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Nuit
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

An Unstoppable Force (Razkar)

Postby Razkar on November 30th, 2013, 1:02 am

Image
The Nuit didn't waste any time, Razkar had to give him that much. But at the mention of that one word, the oddly-pleasant mood that put a nice swing into his step soured.

"I do not murder."

Were Everto to look over at the Myrian, he would see no lie on that barbaric visage. Hypocritical and even absurd as it would sound to the races beyond Falyndar, few Myrians ever used that word in connection with the oldest trade, calling and holy duty. They were warriors; they made war.

Yet more words came from the Nuit and now, ah, Razkar picked up on the slithering undertones to it. Simple tasks. Child play. All the while Razkar felt his ego swell and purr a tad. Clearly the Nuit was a good judge of talent... and yet...

One thing. One little thing. One simple task. That is how these things always begin. They cut away your honor, little thing by simple task, until you are their creature. Remember what this creature is.

The Myrian stopped their languid walk at one of the great brass telescopes set into the side of the tower's dome, jutting out skyward like cannons from a galley. He'd heard of such things before, but never seen them. The Temple in Taloba had them, apparently, but only now...

"Amazing." He said softly, as if forgetting about the subject at hand (i.e. ending the lives of strangers for pay and/or fun), leaning forward to examine the device. "I wonder what they see in the heavens... and what looks back at them..."

Razkar took his time. The Nuit wanted to see him, after all, not the other way around. He could wait. After a few more ticks curious scrutiny he straightened up and looked the Nuit in the face (an accurate description, since he was looking at his forehead, not his eyes).

"Though I am curious as to what task you would have me embark upon," he said thoughtfully, beginning his walk again, arms crossed over his bare and burnished chest. "A man must eat, after all... and there is so little war in the world, I am sad to say..."

No, Razkar was not a hypocrite, or at least he strove not to be. But that didn't make him nice, by any means.
Image
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Next

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests