Solo ... Wait For It...

[Konrad Venger]

63rd Day of Spring, 516AV - The Traveler's Complex

He heard it as he raised his hand to knock on the door, and something stayed it before he could make another sound. His ears twitched and the sellsword cocked his head, one ear facing the wooden barrier. Because something told him that this was important.

Konrad knew sounds. Not all of them, of course, but hells, who did? He was familiar, though, with scrapes and thuds and odd little thunks and clunks that hinted at things. A man with experience, any experience, could take an educated guess.

Tink... Tink... Tink... Tink...

Coins. Coins being dropped... into a bag?

The second part he wasn't sure of but the first... yes, it was definitely coins. Not big enough to be anything else. Just the right tone, even through the door, to scream out "gold and silver" to him, in greed's wordless language. He could hear... mumbling... he leaned closer... and there was a creak-

Further down the hallway. He turned his head and squinted, and saw a shadow blobbing across the floorboards at the end of the hallway. Someone coming around the hallway, coming soon-

Don't get caught prying, someone will tell him.

Konrad rapped on the door thrice, and hard. The tinny tinkling stopped and he heard Trevin's voice bark out, "Who is it?"

"Petch y'think it is?" Konrad said, glancing down the hallway and locking eyes with a woman carrying a basket. She frowned minutely, then that frown became a wide-eyed glassy stare as the full horror of his face became clear. She walked faster after that. "Got time fer a lesson?"

"Oh... yeah. Just... gimme a tick..."

Konrad did as he was asked, and more besides. He leaned closer again, listening to fresh reports, new activity-

Scraping wood. Low down. Not the window... floorboards. Loose? Maybe. And... petch... that sounds heavy. From the dresser?

"Almost done!"

No, Konrad thought, and his eyes came alive like balls of res. Wrong position... the bed. He's hiding it under the bed.

Footsteps beyond the door. Konrad backpedaled quickly, leaning against the wall opposite the door, crossing his arms just as-

-it opened and Trevin saw him, glancing at him from under the brim of his hat as he studied his nails.

"Fuck were you doin' in there? Redecoratin' or some shyke?"

"None of yer business."

Breathing heavy, Trevin? Been exerting yourself?

A chuckle rippled through Konrad's mind, but he didn't let it show on his face. He had to wear the mask until it was time, fast-approaching as it was. Instead he scowled, his default expression and opened his fist to reveal the coins inside.

"My business? This is my business. With you. But if youse don't fuckin' want it-"

"No, no, I just..." Trevin exhaled and rested his hands on his knees, looking more tired than he actually was. Konrad played along. Hells, for all he knew, he was really was that knackered. "Just had to move me bed and it... took a bit outta me."

"Youse fit t'teach?"

"Yeah, course-"

"Well, lets get one with-"

"Nah, not here."

Trevin slid out of his room with surprising speed for a man with a lot taken out of him, closing it as he almost pushed Konrad back with his belly.

Konrad's eyes flashed again at the implied insult, and this time, he didn't need to fake it. Trevin saw the look and held up a surrendering hand, jerking his chin down the hallway.

"Tonight, we're heading outside."

"What? Where?"

"Just round the back a' this place. Don't worry, done this before." He was already walking and Konrad was forced to tag along. The man was his teacher, after all, and the lesson had begun. "Long as we don't burn anything important down, no-one'll care."

"Well, what're we-"

"Coin."

"Petch, fine... they y'go, now. why're we goin' outside?"

Trevin chuckled, voice thick with anticipation as he cracked his knuckles. Konrad didn't need to look at his face to know he was grinning.

"Target practice."

Training Fee-5gm

[Konrad Venger]

When first he arrived in Kenash, he'd have only thought that muddy breeches and stinging gnats would be a reason not to head into the swamp. He'd seen the sickness that the muddy morass of mud and water could breed, but had also seen how it could be combated. But as the days wore on, scaly beasts that made Zith look pleasant had assaulted his eyes... and they were a picnic compared to the human contingent in that green nightmare.

"I think that's far enough."

Trevin turned with a frown on his face, sure he missed the note of trepidation on the lips of Konrad-

Then he saw the sellsword's face. Seething, simmering hatred poured from his eyes as he glared into the impassable mass of vegetation and water. His hand was on his sword like he was about to draw it, anticipating an army suddenly charging from the vines and shrubs.

"They don't come this close to town," he said, reading the man as well as he read the rumors he heard over dinner at the Complex, just behind them. "Got the plantations all around us, remember? Dynasties protect their land pretty damn well. Rujaro wanted to get here, they'd have to get through-"

"Aye," Konrad snapped, irritable that he'd been found out. His fingers tapped and danced on the hilt of his kopis, then fell away. "Here'll do, though."

He wasn't asking, but all Trevin did was shrug. They were a few dozen paces away from the south-facing wall of the Traveler's Complex at the edge of Kenash, where the city gave way to the first fields and acres of planted land. Konrad was finding it hard to distinguish it from the swamp... before realizing that was half the point.

It probably is swamp. Like a dividing line.

"Hey, it's your gold. I'm just sayin', we're perfectly safe."

Easy for you to say, thought Konrad with the scorn his expression bore as he shrugged off his jacket. You ain't the one been helping to hunt them since you got here...

He pushed those thoughts from his mind and cleared it of the rest. What he did during the day, and most nights, was not what he did with Trevin. Not yet, anyway. He didn't want to unfurl a new weapon only for it to fail in the first battle, like a shiny sword cooled too fast, brittle and useless. He still couldn't maintain flame for more than a chime or two without his arms starting to spasm dementedly, and the day after?

Konrad winced in recollection. Oh, yes. There was a reason he hadn't been practicing until tonight.

"A'right," Trevin said with a sniff, hands on his hips, peering around without a care... until he pointed at a tree maybe ten feet away. "That'll do."

"You want me to burn it up?"

"No offence, lad, but I don't think you could at this point. Besides, weather's cooling down but it's still to wet in the air for flame to catch for long. Nah, you'll blacken it up nice, but won't be no burning. Just hit it."

Konrad blinked and almost ignored the insult. Petch, did the man think like that all the time? Seemed a lot to consider... but was swordsmanship so different? Was brawling? Both were filled with a hundred brutal calculations he made in ticks, a dozen factors and outcomes to every move. Often Konrad made them without deciding, or even thinking.

Thanks to practice. Same as here.

"You're the teacherm," he said, holding out a hand to his side, fingers curled slightly... and breathed... and the heart beyond his own heart pumped louder as he closed his eyes. He could almost see it. A glowing green skeleton within himself. Flowing and circulating like a rivers and canals, like veins and arteries, only it was magic, wyrd, djed, res-

Power.

He felt it flow up his arm and willed it into his hand, his fingers-

Until he breathed out and opened his eyes. Seeing the ball of black-dotted green gas harden into liquid above his palm then converge and congeal into a liquid... that made him smile. Fears not forgotten, but eased. The Rujaro, ah, they had the lay of the land, they had knowledge and experience and hatred on their side. For a slave to survive in the swamps, they had to be strong.

He knew warriors and sellswords who would relish the challenged. Konrad preferred fights he knew he would win.

This will equal things out nicely.

Buoyed by his thoughts, he breathed on the little ball and struck sparks with his thoughts in that breeze. The res transmuted into a flaming ball and Konrad smiled at it, scars stretched and sinister across his face. Trevin saw that look and gulped. Strange, how easy it was to ignore what Konrad was when he was being paid to.

Best to focus on the lesson, then.

"Now, remember," he pointed at the stump over yonder. "This ain't like throwing a ball. That, you have to aim with your eye then throw with your hand, then just trust your body's doing its job. But what are we using in Reimancy, Venger?"

Konrad smiled, not just because he knew the answer. Better that than fucking "lad" every five chimes.

"Our thoughts."

"Aye. So... think where you want the ball to land." He put a hand up to his eyes... then pointed from it... to the trump. "And lead it in with your mind. But don't take your eyes off where you want it to land."

Konrad nodded and drew his arm back, very carefully. His palm tilted but he willed the ball to stay in the hollow of his fingertips, until his right arm was pulled back and his left pointing at the stump, guiding him in.

He breathed and exhaled. Felt the sizzle of sparks on his fingertips and welcomed, relished that tick of brief pain. He could feel the heat from the fire, and knew he controlled it. He breathed again, centered himself, remembered those scrawny Berth waifs and their games in the gutters, tossing balls of old string toughened with mud back and forth into crude goals made of old fishing nets.

Konrad breathed in... stiffened his arm... and then-

Go!

[Konrad Venger]

"Hell's fuck!"

"Aye, not so easy as it looks is it?"

Konrad could have cut Trevin's petching head off right then for his tone alone, nevermind the throaty chuckle that followed it. When you threw a ball, all your exertion was in that burst of muscle and energy, followed by simply watching hit or a miss. But with Reimancy...

The sellsword cursed quite creatively as he clutched at his throwing arm, now alive with every twitch and shudder, as if he had the deepest sunburn sunk down to his bones. The instant he threw the fireball, he'd felt it tug at him, demanding his attention and he'd-

"I did what y'said!" He snarled, sinking down to one knee as pain was quickly (and worryingly) replaced by numbness. "I thought about it hitting that fucking stump!"

"Thinking and willing ain't the same thing, Venger."

Konrad was about to snap out with a fresh stream of vulgarity when Trevin practiced what he preached. His hand rose, res already building and swelling above his palm, igniting as he drew back-

His eyes. Look at his eyes.

They never left the stump as he hurled the fireball with a soft grunt. Konrad's had wobbled and fractured into shreds before it even got to the stump, peppering it and the area around it with embers and ashes, but Trevin's stayed solid, so fast it was like a bolt of grounded, burning lightning-

-that smashed into the stump and blew half of it into the air... then saw it land with a splash maybe a dozen paces away.

Fucking swamp. Never see those bloody pools coming.

He blinked away the useless thought and followed his first one... and noted as he suspected. That same look at the first time he'd seen Trevin work his wyrd. Utterly focused, gleaming, intense as honed as obsidian shards, never wavering from their target... until it was destroyed. But it wasn't just the direction, it was the focus. Konrad could see those fleshy features tighten as if a hand was squeezing it from the inside. Such concentration that his face grew red even as he watched.

"You throw an apple, you're done the tick it leaves yer hand," Trevin said with a flex of his fingers. "But with djed? You're not done until it hits the target. Whatever that is."

Last season it was flying daemons, and you swatted them out the sky. Gods alone know what you were doing last-

Enough.

Konrad straightened his arm and shook away the pain. He couldn't feel anything... restraining. He windmilled his arm first one way, then the other, until he felt himself again. The dull throbbing wouldn't be going away anytime soon, but he had control. He could draw the res from his being, bind it to him, raise the flaming missile...

Yeah. Gets harder from there, doesn't it?

"Just like you practiced, lad," the mage said, gesturing to him. "Light one up."

Konrad did as he was told, and was surprised by that. Not the thing itself, but how much easier it was coming to him. Not a sputtering, hesitant thing he'd first crafted nights ago, but a solid little ball that sprang into his hand as breath left his body. Exhale, create... inhale, smother. But once he started thinking about it-

"Ah, don't make that mistake," Trevin said with that irritating, infallible way he had of seeing exactly what your thoughts were. Pertaining to Reimancy, anyway. "You start thinking too much, they'll breed like rabbits and you won't have a hope of catching any of 'em."

"Well what should I do then?"

"Ball... stump... and string." Trevin smiled t Konrad's frown and explained, pointing to the little ball of res in Konrad's hand. "You throw it, but it's not gone, aye? It's still connected to you, through the res, and yer thoughts. So, imagine that string. You have to keep hold of it. Let go, and the ball goes bloody nowhere. That's where yer will comes into play, eh?"

Konrad clenched his jaw and wished the fucker would stop talking like some old wizard from a storybook, but kills the request before it hits his tongue. He was also a right old fucker... in both senses.

He'd felt his control vanish after he'd hurled the fireball, shattered like a jaw under brass knuckles. Something was yanking hard at him, every fiber of him he never knew he possessed trembling with fleeing djed and he'd yanked back out of instinct-

And nearly set your petching arm on fire. So... do what the fucker says.

"Light it up, and slower this time."

Konrad blew on the green-black ball and whoosh, there was fire at his fingertips. He raised his arm and gauged the distance. A dozen paces. Twenty feet. Not far. He could throw his petching sword and hit the smoking heap of wood at the end of his eyes. Why not then a little ball?

He breathed deep, held it like he was ready to fire a crossbow, and braced himself as he hurled-

That yank again. Beyond his bones, his muscles, his ligaments. All of them and none at once, strands and fibers tugging at him, begging him without words or voices to not let go! His res, transmuted and blazing and tossed into the air, was almost calling to him. The further it went, the more deafening the pain sensation became...

Konrad ground his teeth until something popped in the back of his jaw. He couldn't see that thread, but it was easy enough to imagine it. So he focused on the thought, the idea, the will to keep it and keep that ball solid, moving.

On target. Stay where you're going, you little sod...

His arm trembled but he didn't blink. The ball slowed and wobbled but he didn't look away. Trembles became shakes and Konrad grunted, grabbing at his outstretched wrist with his free hand to steady it, for the gods' sake. Just a little longer. But the farther it got, the harder... but it was so close! Then-

CRUNCH

"Better!"

If it had been a man he was aiming at, squatting in the reeds like a Rujaro ready to pounce, it probably wouldn't have killed him... but it would have burned one of his arms to powder. Which was something, at least.

The fireball began to shake and shrink and swell like it was fit to burst, a moment before Konrad lost control and it smacked into the top of the stump, on the side. Chunks of sizzling, blazing dead wood blew in all directions. Black, greasy smoke from damp fuel puffed upward and Konrad lowered his arm again... but not his gaze.

"Hurts, aye?"

"Yes."

Trevin could read tones, too. He didn't push further. Instead he flipped open the knapsack he'd snatched up before leaving his room and held up a sloshing skin.

"Break anyway, hmm?"

"... good idea."

Konrad managed to get all the way down to his arse to sit, composed every inch of the journey. Then he promptly spun and purged into the moss until his throat burned as thick and choking as the chunks of charcoal he'd created.

[Konrad Venger]

"Well, helps to get that out your system, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yeah... kff... fuckin' wonderful."

Trevin smirked around his pipe and let watched a tendril of Riverfall Red snake lazily towards the night sky. More memories and recollections. Konrad would probably be getting the shits the next day; he did, first time he tried to hurl fire like he was tossing cherries into an empty can.

Everything's gonna taste like lead for a few days, too.

"Hey-hey-hey, ease up on that," he said, sounding like the very specter of his father as he tugged the wine skin from his student. "Getting rat-arsed ain't a good way to go about this training, get me?"

"Aye, fair enough."

Konrad sighed deep and the air rushing out his mouth didn't quite taste like rotten peaches anymore. Well, that was an improvement. It was a good grape, what was in the skin, and he'd just enough to... fortify himself. That was all.

"A'right," he said, getting to his feet and stretching back at his waist, then wheeling his arms around. They'd rested up quite a while. Not that you didn't need it. "Any luck gettin' work?"

Trevin nearly coughed on his next lungful. Konrad didn't ask about other people, because he didn't care about other people. What they did and what they had planned, it was only relevant to him as far as it affected him. So hearing him inject a conversational tone into his words, question quipped nonchalantly through the humid air...

"Why do you care?"

"Wanna know how many days I got left a' this," Konrad said over his shoulder, turning back and smirking softly to himself. Always helped to think ahead. "Only godda few days left on the chart in yer room, after all."

"Aye, well, been waiting for the weather t'turn. Cool down a little bit, so we won't have the animals dying before we even get out of the swamp." Trevin got two sentences in before he shook himself mentally and remembered this is Konrad Venger. "But, ah... don't know the day yet."

Lie.

"Probably 68th of 69th, maybe earlier."

"Petch."

Konrad scratched the back of his neck and made a show of digesting this. It was what he'd been expecting, and heard, more importantly. On the Magistrate's payroll as he was, he had a closer look at the workings of Kenash. With the humidity rocketing and temperatures fit to fry eggs on the stones, nothing was moving in the city... but the weather had been improving. They said that there would soon be a five- or ten-day window for all caravans leaving the city, and the sellswords and carters and cooks and all the other professions that relied on them were flocking to the caravans.

Including mages, I'd wager.

"Well... lets call it three days, then? Our last lesson 'afore y'go?"

Now it was Trevin's turn to contemplate. Harmon's mob were leaving on the 68th, in point of fact, working the Kabrin headed back to Zeltiva with cartloads of fabrics, spices and tubs of dye for sail in the city. He was looking forward to a quiet(ish) trip, and relieved to be facing the prospect of a season not surrounded by a hundred stinking, wretched slaves.

Hardly attracts the best sort... hence this ugly sod.

"That'll work," he said with a shrug, trying to be as indifferent as possible. He huffed and tapped out his pipe on the stump, talking over the rap-rap-rap and wave of steaming ashes dumped onto the ground. "Don't be too late, though. Wanna get my kip in for when we're leavin'."

"Aye, won't be a problem."

Trevin just grunted and got back to his feet. It was another five mizas, if nothing else, and not quite the teeth-pulling the first lesson had been. Konrad was improving, getting more confident in his djed, but still... Trevin was always on the urge of conjuring flame when he was in the same room as the man.

Stick it out, man. One more lesson and that's an extra twenty gold you've sucked outta him, added to the hundreds you already have.

Exactly, he counter-argued as Konrad breathed out and formed a ball of res between the fingers of one hand. Do you need anymore? You could just give him a day after you leave and poof, vanish back home and never see Konrad petching Venger again?

Konrad paid the man and his turmoil no mind. He was away from the stump and turned to face it again, a shade closer than before. Closer was control, he realized, and for now, his control was shaky at best. The flaming ball spat and sizzled above his palm and every time he expected some drip of oil to scorch his skin. But it didn't.

I have control. Now prove it.

He breathed in and drew back and threw-

-already steeling himself for The Yank, as he'd already called it. That pull from the res flying away from him, yearning for his control. He kept his arm extended, pointing at the trunk... and this the ball. Keeping the two in line and focusing on a straight line, the ball caught on it-

-ignoring the shake in his arms, flexing and tightening his muscles until he'd beaten down the urge to let it drop like it had been hacked away from him. He shook the sweat from his eyes and pushed once more with his palm-

SHOOM

"There ya go!"

Trevin's doubts were beaten away by the proof that, yes, he was a damn good teacher. A closer shot, maybe, but that time the fireball smacked dead into the stump, where the trunk of the body would be-

Heh. Trunk. Stump. Gotta write that-

"See?" Konrad said with more panting than he liked, but still with a smile. "Gettin' better, right?"

"Yer welcome."

Konrad's smiled widened and he held out his fist, as if his guard was up. Trevin recognized it. An old Sunberth custom, let die and them resurrected a dozen times a generation dependent on what was fashionable. The mage drew a smirk, across half his face and bumped the bottom of his fist against the same part of Konrad's hand.

"Good teacher's hard t'find," he said, keeping it simple an believable. "Yous ever head back this way, seek me out, eh? I'll pay again fer lessons."

Trevin smiled, and there was warmth in it. Konrad smiled, for he was a snake, and when he saw warmth, he knew the prey was his.

[Cocoon]

We're almost done with this series of threads!

Its wonderful to see the story unfold. Being capable of spreading out these threads through the calendar as you have, while being capable of keeping the narrative intact is impressive.

Now, let's see what you've gained...

 

Konrad Venger

XP

• Reimancy +4
  
• Observation +3
  
• Acting +3
• Rhetoric +2
• Meditation +2
• Intimidation +1

Lores

• Intelligence: Eavesdropping
  
• Kenash: The Rujaro Presence
  
• Konrad: Careful by day, Careful by night
• Reimancy: Launching a Fireball
• Reimancy: The Yank
• Meditation: Clearing one’s thoughts
• The Gaze of a Reimancer
• Alcohol and Djed don’t mix
• Kenash: Benefits of the Magistrate’s payroll

 

Notes

This thread is by far the best from the series. It seems like a common trend with them - they increase their quality with every thread. Konrad proves once again that, even if he lacks the initial talent, hard work and patience gets him further. That is a very humane quality of him, so I can't help but to feel sympathetic to him. Konrad, although rugged and insensitive at times, is certainly well rounded character. Your write him perfectly.

I keep getting this voice in my head that you should be having more points in acting. Konrad hides behind his exterior ugliness, concealing his weaknesses from the eye to appear as imposing and heartless as he does. If I were you, I'd begin investing points in acting, prompting small mentions that can help you gain atleast a single skill point to get him to competent. Once there, I imagine if he doesn't go more extremes, the skill will be hindered in progress.

I also feel that Konrad does not deserve many points in socialization, for he doesn't talk without purpose. That quality is sublime! Every time he speaks, he does so with a reason. He truly is a snake, and Dhani are surely envious of him. On the other hand, you make Reimancy very clear in my mind, which is a good sign that you've pictured it correctly, and that you're able to transmit your idea of the magic discipline into your post. It is for that reason you've earned 4 points in Reimancy, even if Konrad did not overgive by my reasoning.

The worst part of this thread has to be that I am unable to start a rumor about Konrad. You took the scene into the secrecy of the swamps, and as there were no witnesses I cannot spread any rumor about him. That is the worst I have to say, and its a silly whim of mine. Great job, once again, so enjoy your rewards because you've certainly earned them.

Please, do not doubt to PM me if you have any doubts or questions about the skills/lores I've awarded you, or if you feel you didn't get something you deserved.

Happy writing!