Solo Trouble

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Taloba, home to the Myrians, is the thriving core of Falyndar. Inhabited by a fierce and savage tribe where blood sacrifices are normal and a way of life, they are untamed and proud of it. Warlike, and with their numbers growing, the Myrians are set on reclaiming what is rightfully theirs. [Lore]

Trouble

Postby Oryani on June 23rd, 2014, 1:32 am

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Summer 31st, 514 AV


If there was one thing Myrians were good at, it was being angry. Oryani didn’t like the one that was facing her now, expression dark and scowl written across the man’s face. At least it was a male, not a female… she had a bit of authority in this situation. The man had eyes almost as dark as hers, except the whites were still obvious, not blended into one large, midnight orb like her own. He was a good several inches taller than she was, and a whole lot more bulky. She didn’t like her chances in any kind of close combat with the man, if it came to that. At the moment, she wasn’t really liking the odds. There was no one around, and the two were stuck in a more secluded and treed area of Taloba, behind one abandoned building.

Oryani wasn’t quite sure what she’d done to earn this, an angry and threatening tone coming with rapid words in Myrian. She had actually simply been minding her own business, when the man came out of nowhere and started yelling at her. Actually, Alaril had come first, flitting around the corner of the building and landing briefly on her arm for a moment, unbidden. Only a moment later the man had gone running around, spotted the pair, and rushed towards them… which was when the eagle had fled, the coward. Instead of continuing after the bird, the Myrian had come to her, grabbing the collar of her shirt roughly and growling incomprehensibly.

It was obvious that Alaril had been up to more mischief… she really couldn’t keep control of the eagle, which was a change that needed to happen. It had happened at the bonfire, and now it had happened here. Lovely. She wrapped her own hands around the man’s much larger one and tried to pull it away from her shirt, growling in her own right. ”Common, COMMON!” she yelled at him, desperately trying to pull away. She was no match for his physical strength, so her only hope was reasoning with the man. Lovely… she was just terrible at reasoning.

Luckily there was a switch in language, one sharp statement put in Common rather than Myrian. ”You bird eat dinner, bite finger!” The man released her to hold up a hand, showing a slightly bleeding index finger. It didn’t look to bad, and it seemed more like Alaril hadn’t truly been trying to hurt the man. Possibly irritate him, or possibly as a defense mechanism to get away. Still, she swore loudly, suddenly sharing some irritation with the man. ”Petch it all, Alaril… you stupid bird,” she hissed to herself in Pavi, shaking her head. Hopefully she’d be able to work something out…

Then the Myrian grabbed her again, shaking her a little this time. She yelped and pulled back, hands once again trying to save her throat from being crushed. ”Pay! Pay!” the man demanded, almost in a fervor. He shook some more, before pushing her hard against the wall. Her head hit the stone solidly, and she had stars in her eyes for a few moments, until she recovered.

”You drunk!” she yelled back, grabbing his fingers and now attempting to pry them off. Where did it hurt the most on someone’s hands? ”Off, OFF!” She found the base of his nails and remembered a side comment someone had once mentioned. It hurt there, didn’t it? Taking a chance she dug her fingernails into those parts, hearing a satisfying yelp as the man suddenly let go. She took the moment to push him hard in the chest, to get away, though it didn’t move the large Myrian very far. Authority, she needed authority. She could feel fear building in her chest, slowly but steadily… but she knew what she needed.

She brought herself up tall, finding footing on the small rise of dirt where it met the wall, and even going so far as to slightly stand on her toes. ”Stupid male,” she hissed, trying to act the part of an important female Myrian. Now that she remembered the part of the man being drunk, she realized she could smell alcohol on him. Just great… drunk people were terrible at reasoning, landing her in another hole. She didn’t know what else she could do other than that, though… so there was nothing she could do but try.

”Stupid, stupid male,” she repeated, trying to dig it into his skull that he was inferior. Hopefully the Myrian wouldn’t remember that she was an outsider, not another of his race. ”Weak male, drunk male. I am female… better. Listen. Stop. Be smart. Bird not mine, go chase it, not me.” She sincerely hoped the man wouldn’t catch her bluff about Alaril being hers. The only proof was that the eagle had landed on her arm… and it was another gamble to tell if that would be remembered or understood at all. She glared straight into the man’s eyes to assert her dominance, almost reveling in the feeling. It was strange, this power… it wasn’t something she’d truly had much of before. It was interesting, even though she hadn’t even see the reaction to her actions, yet.

The reaction she earned was a stare. A flat, blank stare. Several ticks passed, and the man almost seemed to shrink on himself, anger fading slightly and looking a little confused. She almost surprised herself at how well it had worked, this ploy of hers. She had to try it again. There was a satisfying wave of success at being able to accomplish something like this, pretend to have someone below her. The only time that truly happened was when she was riding a horse, and then a person was physically under her… not mentally.

A moment passed in silence, then another. The quiet sounds of the forest could be heard, in the fading light. She’d barely realized how late it was. Then she saw something in the man’s eyes that made her swear mentally. Anger. More petching anger. She tried to keep up the authority that she’d collected, but she could see her control fading in the dark eyes, and the rage and indignance building. She had screwed up somewhere, though she didn’t know where yet. A low growl started coming as well, from deep in the Myrian’s throat. That sound was one she hadn’t heard before, and it was positively frightening.

The man took a step forward, and instinctively she took one back. That brought a grin of pleasure to the man’s face, though it quickly faded. ”No,” he said, voice hard and firm. Firmer and more sure than it had been before. ”Eagle. Yours. Eagle come to you, you pay back you OWE. PAY.” The last was at a roar, the calm control breaking as the man lashed forward to grab her again in the same place. Her neck was starting to hurt. She hissed in pain and irritation, trying to drag uselessly at his hands, scramble for the base of his fingernails, but he skillfully avoided her attempts after the first try, hands gripping in such a way that it was almost impossible to reach those sensitive areas.

She’d lost the power she’d had before in one stupid gamble, and now she was back in this position again… and it would be almost impossible to get in control again. She’d liked the feeling, that accomplishment of doing something with her words and her expression. She wasn’t skilled in that area, and… well… this was almost new. And she’d lost it.

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Trouble

Postby Oryani on June 25th, 2014, 1:41 am

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She really, really, really didn’t feel like making up for Alaril’s foolishness. Again. Again and again and again. She knew it would happen again, and was already tired of it. She’d handed a miza to that man at the bonfire, though had earned a little of it back, considering it had been overpaying. She was nowhere near as willing to make up for it today, however. This man’s anger and her tricks being demolished had left her into a black mood, one that simply grew rather than shrunk as she was pressed heavily into the stone wall. She was scared, deep down, but at this moment she honestly didn’t care.

She growled back at him, suddenly remembering the injured finger and grinning. She may not have been able to get at the base of his nails to pull him off, but she knew that would hurt. Eagle bite always seemed to hurt a lot. She searched for it with her finger, following the blood in an abstract way, until she thought that she’d found it. Taking a chance she squeezed hard, trying to put as much pressure into that one place. Her attack went well. As the man screamed in pain and drew back further than before, clutching his finger like a baby and glaring spitefully at her. She took a few steps forward, realizing she hadn’t thought it out so far, then decided she didn’t want to be there anymore. She didn’t want to be stuck behind this wall with a half drunk, pissed off Myrian twice her size. So… she ran. There was an opening to her left and she took it, turning on a dime and sprinting as fast as she could in that direction. She got several meters, and had an elated feeling of hope that she was going to get out… before someone snagged her ankle and she crashed the ground heavily, nearly smashing her nose into the hard dirt. The Myrian had been faster than she’d thought, and had darted to catch her in time.

She groaned as she hit the ground, before instantly trying to push herself up. The man was roaring in Myrian again, probably something along the lines of ‘pay me back’. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if a bikka would help. The man would probably just throw it back in her face. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she probably didn’t want to give it, except if it was some nice concept like thanks for a gift. She was alright with that…. Because it included him giving her a gift, and therefore forgiving her. Her logic was a little loopy at the moment, and her mind not quite as clear as it could have been.

She pushed herself up desperately, then found a resistance on her ankle. She tugged and tugged, then smacked blindly at the grip with her other foot until she was free. She hopped up, dashed a few more meters, before turning and wondering where the man had gone, and why the yelling had changed. She found a scene that she had not been expecting in the least… though it was completely to her advantage.

The man was being held by the collar, like she had been, by a taller female Myrian that was vaguely familiar to Oryani, though she couldn’t place where. The arrival was utterly welcome, however, and she sighed in relief. The man was yelling profanities at his capturer now, struggling viciously before the woman showed him an axe blade from her belt. She held it very, very close to his eyes and muttered something dark in Myrian, that caused the man to pale and almost shrink in on himself. Oryani grinned in pleasure, mostly understanding what was happening.

There was more conversation, more orders. The man argued back at one point, snapping angrily and trying to push away again, pointing one bloody finger at the Chatakwe. The woman didn’t even glance in that direction, however, simply glaring, stating a few sharp words, before throwing the man away from her roughly. Ah, how Oryani enjoyed this matriarchal society. Things like this could happen rather easily, and most of the time… men wouldn’t be able to do anything productive about it. She grinned to herself again, before focusing on the woman who’d been her savior… this tall, armed, and scowling Myrian who was now facing her way.

The warrior took a few steps closer before stopping, leaving a good five feet between them. ”You from Den of Exiles, yes?” the woman asked, Common rough and heavy. Oryani nodded, frowning a little at the question. How did the Myrian know this? Was she already so well known in the city, just because of her eyes? She doubted it. Barbarians were generally ignored and shunned here, left to do their own business until they got on someone’s nerves. Like she’d done today.

The answer to her question was quick to come, however, as the woman continued. ”I there too. Know you. This man, drunk, silly. Stupid. Told him to chase bird.” There was a loud chuckle there, far to exuberant to fit in with the scene. Oryani raised an eyebrow in surprise, watching the woman almost cautiously. There was another step forward, and she was half tempted to take one back, but managed to resist the urge and hold her ground. Her eyes kept flicking towards the small axe on the woman’s back, hoping to all the gods she knew that it would not be drawn again.

However, the thing offered was not a blade, but a hand… one to shake. The Chatakwe blinked at it for a moment, before taking it and shaking, trying to remember to keep her grip firm and confident. ”Thank you?” she said, a little confused at the whole situation, and the response turning into a question simply by accident. The woman grinned again, slowing shedding the fearsome skin and turning into a rather friendly Myrian.

”I am Poma,” was the enthusiastic reply. It was odd, the woman hadn’t added a clan name to the mix. Oryani wondered if there was some reason for that, or if the Myrian was simply lazy. It was most likely the latter, though she was rather curious. ”Oryani,” she said in reply, her voice a little more firm and sure as the confusion and excitement from earlier slowly wore off. She let out a huge breath, a woosh of air that accompanied most of her stress as well. She let the tension out of her shoulder muscles, her legs and arms, even her brain… if that could be considered a muscle. It didn’t look like a muscle, once you cut open a person’s body, but it felt like one a lot of the time. A very smart, very vast, very stressed out muscle. She needed to remember to relax that one occasionally, and not always on the alert… like being on alert helped her that much, considering today’s… event.

”Thank you,” she repeated again, remembering not to turn it into a question again, before tagging along behind the Myrian like a new puppy.

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Trouble

Postby Voodoo on June 29th, 2014, 10:26 pm

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Your Powers Grow

Oryani
Experience :
Intimidation: +1
Socialization: +2
Torture: +1
Brawling: +1

Lore :
Alaril: Always Getting into Trouble
Defense: Pinch the Nails
You can't Reason with Drunks
Torture: Using Fresh Wounds to Control
Poma: A Friend from the Den

Comments :
This was short and sweet. Very well done. Comments, concerns? PM me.
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