When Lunch Strikes With Wings (Aranta)

[Ferrin Al'Mandrikan]

Timestamp: 45th Spring516av
Location:Heralds Arms

|| "Common" || "Pavi" || "Tukant"||"Others Speaking"||

Ferrin never figured that he'll take another visit to one of the most busiest places in Syliras. Perhaps a few drinks of wine on a patrol wouldn't be so bad? Plus, the days were getting warmer and Ferrin felt at a loss without his uncle doing patrols with him lately and since he had been busy for the majority of this season so far. Ferrin had to do the patrols himself. He felt a bit alone. If he hadn't had before he did now.

Outside, the stone streets seemed a bit beaten up with people walking on them and the weather being as it is. With the weather getting warmer more and more people had been spilling out of their homes daily and visitors from all over Mizahar. And with Synas light beating down over Ferrins body the metal clung to his clothes and sweat leaked through the cotton and stuck to his skin. Which made Ferrin feel slightly uncomfortable. He needed a place to rest from walking the most of the city of Syliras.

Fortunately, he was near the Heralds Arms. A place he knew of fairly well. And would mostly never forget a place as busy as a hawk searching for some type of meat that it could be satisfied with.

The Kenashian was greeted by the wooden door. Ferrin eyed the door up and down and tried to get a good remembrance of the times that he had had been taking his stay at the Inn. It was comfortable, but just very noisy especially when their were people who stayed up late at night and decided to party throughout the whole night which prevented the squire to have the inability to sleep peacefully.

With a small push of his right hand. Ferrin took hold of the delicate metallic handle. The black bar gripped tightly, Ferrin pushed open the door. It creaked and slowly gave way as Ferrin stepped through to the building. He let out a relieved sigh as he almost felt at home. How could he ever hate this place? It was usually less crowded on the bottom floor, bit the third tier would be the worse. With a few more steps, his armor clanked against the aged wood.

Ferrin turned his body round and closed the door quickly to not let loose any possibilities of cold air out. With that, he let go his gauntlet encased with a few beads of sweat and stuck to his hand, Ferrin kept walking to the stool. The owner, Mr. Nathan Louger waved his hand at the newcomer. Ferrin waved his hand back, his curled dark colored hair dampened by the sweat from the heat.

Ferrin sat at the stool and almost instantly was greeted by Mr. Louger. "Aye, Ferrin. That's you right? Glad to see your part of The Order. I'm guessing you want an ale? Or wine? You hungry?"Asked Mr. Louger with an exuberant attitude. "Yes please. Can I have a glass of wine? Thanks Mr. Louger. It's been a long time. And yes tis' I Ferrin. The Squire." Said the Kenashian with a comical tone and a joyful smile.

"I guess I won't mind something to eat. Would have to get back on patrols though. I'll give you the Mizas for the food though. Don't worry about it."Said Ferrin with a nod as he fished out the amount of Mizas that are inside his pouches tied around his sword sheath, and securely. "Here ya go." Said Ferrin as he dropped the coins into Mr. Louger hand. "Aye, thank ya. Your meal would be coming right up. Here's your drink."Said the owner as he filled the glass of wine with a thick and dark red liquid. "It'll be just awhile before your food comes out. Sit tight."Mr. Louger smiled and with a nod of his head he left and walked back into the kitchen. To give the order to his wife. Since the only thing they make is a meal of the day, there really doesn't need to be much more to order of. Ferrin sat there occasionally taking a sip of his wine and waited for his food to come. Perhaps some company as well.

[Aranta]

Aranta was careful to not hit anyone with his wings as he made his way to the Herald's Rest; his game bag was full of lots of little creatures that the cook had requested - some kind of bird that Aranta couldn't remember the name of. The cook had promised good coin for the birds, and since coin - the little things called 'mizas' - was necessary to obtain things without breaking the law of Syliras, Aranta had taken the job. He was a decent enough hunter, able to provide food for himself, and if he could use his skills to earn a few more coins here and there, that was even better in his opinion; it would mean that he could stay longer and learn more. The Zith pushed open the wooden doors leading to the Herald's Rest, and his nose wrinkled when the scent of perfume hit him. He'd rarely seen the appeal of artificial scents, although the Symenestra woman he had bedded once had been skillful at keeping the scents from being overwhelming, using them to enhance her own natural scent. The crowd inside the tavern quieted when Aranta entered, but he was used to that; he'd been in Syliras for a while now, and while Zith were allowed in the city, they were still viewed with general mistrust. Aranta knew that only time would tell if he could earn the citizens' trust. Aranta was careful to keep his wings folded close to his back as he made his way to one end of the bar that was clear of stools, but when someone stood up unexpectedly as he passed, he was knocked to the side; his wings spread to help him catch his balance, and he felt one wing hit something before his hand did. Luckily it wasn't the hand with the game bag, and as soon as his stance was steady once more, Aranta moved to a slightly more open space. "I apologize," he said, turning to face the human he'd bumped into. "I was pushed, I didn't mean to touch you." In his time since leaving his colony, Aranta had learned that few creatures liked to touch or be touched by a Zith, and he hoped that a preemptive apology would stop any potential conflict; that was the last thing he needed today, to jeopardize his sale of the meats he'd caught.

[Ferrin Al'Mandrikan]

Timestamp | Location

|| "Common" || "Pavi" || "Tukant"||"Others Speaking"||

Not like things could go any worse. Ferrin had taken a drink of his wine, but almost instantly, he had been pushed over by what Ferrin assumed was a large and burly man, perhaps drunk. He turned to face the man who knocked him over. "Hey watch-"His words were cut off and faded as he realized who save for what had knocked him over. Ferrins glass of wine spilled over the counter as the Zith seemed to have been struggling with keeping its wings open.

The Kenashian had almost forgotten that Syliras allows Ziths inside the walls. But, that still didn't mean that he can't be afraid of them. The squire stood up. As he did, the Zith had apologized. Ferrin quavered for words his mouth suddenly went dry and he was thirst again. He stood there, rooted in place, dumbfounded merely. And he couldn't speak. Sure he and his family strayed from Ziths since they were known for their dangerous actions. Enabling all humans and humanoid creatures or whatever or whomever they could find aloof and far from the nearest city.

This Zith seemed different. Far different than the others in Cyphrus. Ferrin let out a sigh and gulped his phobia of Ziths down his esophagus. Surely, this Zith isn't like any other? Maybe. Erh, ah. It's okay. No worries or harm done..." Replied Ferrin as the Zith was trying his best to tuck in its wings. He was holding a bag of some sort. Ferrin remembered now, coin for whatever game that could be brought into the Herlads Arms. Yes, though Ferrin didn't really partake in that kind of business when he was living as a hunter he made his coin seasonally. Just by turning it into the local buthcer shope.


Ferrin sighed as he realized the struggle. "Here. Let me help you give it to Mrs. Louger. She'll surely be grateful. I can give her a name, what is it. Your name?" Asked Ferrin kindly as he gestured a warm hand out for the bag. "Don't worry. I won't take the coins for myself. The Mizas. I have plenty of them at home." Said the Kenashian as he let loose a smile over his face to reassure the Zith. Ferrin didn't want to make an enemy out of the Zith. No. He would try his best to befriend them. Unless, it is mrely impossible.

If the Zith obliged Ferrin would take the bag of game to the chef and retrieve the coin. Then, hand the Mizas back to the flying being. Who appeared to be harmless at the moment. Perhaps Ferrin could learn a few things once he returns? "By the way. The names Ferrin."

[Aranta]

OOCAranta is already employed as a hunter, so I'm keeping what the cook promised and what kind of birds Aranta has vague on purpose since he gets paid regularly; I may use this as a seasonal job exp thread. Aranta could smell the sudden spike of fear even above the smell of the rest of the tavern, and he instinctively clutched his bag a bit tighter; when humans smelled afraid, he'd learned, they tended to react unpredictably. "Aranta," the Zith says after a few moments, when the fear has diminished slightly from the human's - Ferrin's - scent. "My name. I - thank you. It is... hard to move inside with wings." Aranta carefully hands over his game bag, making sure to not make any movements that could be construed as threatening; he didn't want any trouble, he just wanted to sell the birds and get back into the slightly-more-open streets. As the man takes the bag and heads for the kitchen, Aranta moves off to the side, closer to the door and taking up a space just big enough for him and his wings; they were wonderful for flying, but when he was on the ground, they were just plain burdensome. Aranta waits for Ferrin to return, turning down the offer of a drink from one of the women who works in the upper floors; he's never developed a taste for alcohol, although he knows that it's generally favored amongst other races. The rest of the patrons give him as much of a berth as possible in the crowded room, for which Aranta is grateful; he's never liked crowds; they tend to make him anxious if they're not crowds of Zith. Zith and Symenestra, he knows how to handle. But other races? He doesn't have enough experience with them to make good judgement calls; until he reached Syliras, after leaving Kalinor he was attacked by just about every other race he saw. The other Zith colonies he happened across at least tended to let him pass on peacefully enough if he gave them meat and knowledge, since they knew he was only passing through.

[Ferrin Al'Mandrikan]

Timestamp

As Ferrin stepped through to the kitchen doors. He was instantly greeted by the smell of meat being cooked. And properly as well. Ferrin let loose a smile as the warmth of the heat and the sweet smoky smell wafted through his nose. It almost made him forget where he was. Mrs. Louger, the wife of Mr. Louger, the owner of The Heralds Arms turned her head from where she was cooking. Her aged face filled with a smile and steam rose above her briws from pots and pans. Meats and veggies filled with the lot of them.

"Ah... Ferrin that you ma'boy. Dressed in a suit of armor are ya?" Said the lady as she trotted over to the Squire with ease. She held a stirring spoon in one of her hands and wore a greasy apron. Her hair was tied back in a short pony tail. "Hey there Mrs. Louger. Been a long time. I have a bag of game for you here. Just dropping it off for one your clients. A Zith he is. I'd just figured I could help the guy out." Said Ferrin as his face flushed a bright red.

"Oh yes. Certainly. Here, there is the Mizas there on the counter. That's for Aranta there. Mind you take them to him for me. He certainly is a good hunter. Fresh birds for tonight."Said the chef as she handled the bag and propped them against a rack of meats and goodies. Ferrin took the coins propped on top of the counter and took his leave from the kitchen and waved a goodbye to Mrs. Louger. She went back to her cooking. While she hummed a tune that Ferrin hadn't heard of before.

Ferrin clutched the Mizas on his hands lightly and prevented any of them from escaping whatever holes in his hand. He noticed Aranta sitting widely over a stool at the bar. "Here ya go Aranta... The coins."Said Ferrin as his words still quavered, but the fear was slowly draining away. Ferrin handed the Mizas into the hands of Aranta. "Mind if I'd take a seat. Been walking the most of the morning."Said Ferrin with a sigh. "So, a Zith eh. Fancy seeing you around here. It must feel good to fly."


My Words My Thoughts Your Words

[Aranta]

Aranta had been tapping his fingers against the wood of the bar as he waited, his claws clicking softly with each impact. The Zith straightens when he spots Ferrin returning; he takes the coins with a nod and a "Thanks," and quickly counts them out before adding them to his money pouch. He watches curiously as the human sits down next to him; he'd thought, given Ferrin's first reaction to him, that the other male would leave Aranta to himself after delivering the coins. Instead, he was sitting down and actually - making conversation with Aranta, if the Zith wasn't mistaken. What was it like to fly? Well, that was an interesting question, and one that Aranta was not sure he would be able to satisfactorily answer; still, he gave it a try. "It is... freedom," he says slowly. "The ability to leave your troubles - and those causing them - behind. I imagine it is like... Like a riding a horse, but without the horse and in the air instead of along the ground." That was most likely a poor analogy, as Aranta had never ridden a horse, but there was not much else the Zith could imagine would come close to the feeling of soaring through the air, the wind rushing over his skin like the caress of a lover. Aranta had been grounded once when he was very young; shortly after he'd learned to fly, he had injured one of his wings at the place where the wing joined the back of his shoulder. It had been the worst three weeks of his life, waiting for the injury to heal sufficiently for him to return to the air once again. Aranta took a closer look at the man sitting next to him, trying to decide what this man's role in Syliras was; he looked to be strong, and in his prime. He was only slightly shorter than the Zith, but he carried himself well. After a moment, Aranta asked a question of his own; if this human was willing to sit and talk with him, then Aranta was not going to waste the opportunity to gain more knowledge. "What do you do for coin?" he asks curiously. "Do you hunt as well? Or do you fight, like the - " It took Aranta a moment to remember the word for the men who wore armor and regularly patrolled Syliras's streets and wall " - the knights?"

[Ferrin Al'Mandrikan]

Timestamp

As Ferrins hand touched the Ziths. The Kenashian felt an awkward sensation that trickled through the hairs of his spine. "Sure. Sure. Anytime." Said Ferrin with a weary smile. His phobia of Ziths tingled lightly through his thoughts. He would want to befriend all races. At least, that was one of his personal goals. Save for Nuits and the Undead. Those, those races shouldn't be befriended. If so, all they would do is perhaps take the full manipulation of ones body or just terminate you by eating the flesh right off hour skin. Ferrin shivered as the thoughts came to mind.

The Kenashian took his seat and waited for the stew to be cooked and delivered. When Ferrin asked Aranta what it was like to fly. The Zith described it as a sense of freedom. He analyzed it with riding a horse. But, that wasn't quite freedom if one didn't know how to ride. Sure, the winds felt good against the face and your hair. But, all of the bumping. That wasn't what Ferrin figured as freedom.

Though, he could be wrong. Aranta asked him another question. Ferrin gulped down his drink of wine. While he thought of an answer to what he does. "When I... First came here. In Syliras... I was a hunter. That's how I made the Mizas." Said Ferrin slowly. He picked up the nearly empty glass and sipped the last of his wine. "I'd just recently became a Squire. How about you? How long have you been here?" Asked Ferrin curiously when he put down the empty glass of wine. And waited for both an answer and a refill.

My Words My Thoughts Your Words

[Aranta]

Aranta notices the shiver that the other male gives, and finds himself wondering what caused it; was it perhaps the graze of their hands? Aranta knew that Zith were considered dangerous, that many races did not like them, but he'd rarely gotten close enough to have physical contact with others; perhaps his touch was repulsive? Still, Aranta didn't comment, merely took his hand back and listened intently to Ferrin's words. The man had been a hunter, and now he was a squire; and he was wondering how long Aranta had been in Syliras, apparently. Aranta mulled that over for a moment; he was rarely the one being asked questions. Usually the curious Zith was the one doing the asking. "I have been here for a few days," he says in answer to Ferrin's question. "I came from Kalinor, from the home of the Symenestra. I spent a few seasons with them after leaving my colony; I arrived here seven days ago." Aranta watches as Ferrin's drink is refilled, sniffing a bit at the sharp scent of alcohol; he doesn't much care for the taste, but some beverages have a very appealing scent to them. "What about yourself?" Aranta asks. "How long have you been here?" Remembering Ferrin's comment about recently becoming a squire, Aranta adds, "What is a squire, and how did you become one?" Absently the Zith remembers that he had a thought to find out how to write, to record everything he learns. Perhaps he could do that somewhere here in Syliras? For a Zith, a thought is as good as an action, and while Aranta has gotten good at controlling the more violent actions - such as attacking those who make him angry - he hasn't gotten so good at controlling the impulse to ask questions and explore things that make him curious. So, before Ferrin has gotten a chance to answer the first questions Aranta posed, the Zith adds a couple more: "Do you know how to read and write? Or where I could learn to do that?"

[Ferrin Al'Mandrikan]

Timestamp

So Aranta had only been here a few days. Ferrin wondered why so many Ziths, though quite a few actually are taking their stay at the Fortress City of Peace? Why? Is there something going on that Ferrin wasn't aware of? The Kenashian sighed as he took another drink from his glass. Only a small one, before he put the drink down he swirled the cup around slowly. Combining more of the tastes within the drink. To make it taste more... mixed.

He then put the glass down with a smile. His lips were slightly tinted, but Ferrin doesn't usually get the weird sensation. Today had meant to be a patrol, but he'd usually go out with his uncle. Who wasn't here with him. Obviously. Ferrin didn't know where his uncle is. Hopefully, not dead. Perhaps it was a mistake when Ferrin allowed his uncle to rescue the man tied to a stake at the woods one day. The same day when the two met another man Shimoje.

"A few days eh. Not to shabby. The first few days are a hard shell. You know. Trust me."Said Ferrin he looked at Mr. Louger, the owner and the bartender of the Heralds Arms. Ferrin had almost forgotten where he was. It's been a long time since he'd visited this Inn. Though, most Inns are the same, usually. Unless there are those Inns and taverns that have their little uniqueness to it that stands out from all the others.

Aranta said that he'd come from Kalinor. That's a ways away. Surely. Where the Symenestrians lived? Interesting. Ferrin didn't know that there was a domain for the Symenestrians. Or at least a city. Sure, there was a city for the Zith. Xy. But, he was completely unaware of Kalinor hostessing cities for the Symenestrians. What other cities are hosted for the other races, eh?

The Zith tilted his head as he asked Ferrin another question."Quite the curious fellow. Aren't ya?" Asked Ferrin after he took a spoonful of his soup that had been given to him. Fresh and spicy. Ferrin liked it this way. He swallowed with a gulp, and his throat choked a bit as he wanted to speak. He's still nervous, but not as much when he'd met the Zith."I've lived here since last summer. I came from Kenash. Cyphrus." Said Ferrin simply. He took another spoonful of the steaming bowl of stew. It sizzled as it reached his tongue, but the heat/spice didn't really effect Ferrin.

What is a Squire? Aranta had asked that question. Another one. It didn't bother Ferrin, but he hadn't met anyone as curious as he is,well as of yet. "A Squire is like... a child in a way. The parents above the child is a Knight. And say the Grandmaster is the elder of the family to put in an analogy. But, basically a Squire is a rank below the Knight of The Order. I'm not sure if that was a good analogy, but that's how I figured it as." Responded the Squire, after, he took another spoonful of soup. How did Ferrin become one? "Well, my uncle is a Knight... I signed up to become one of course. The Recruitment Center is where to go for that."Said Ferrin in a half matter of fact tone and the other half in a mildly curious tone. He wasn't really sure if that was how hereditary knightly relationships work.

"Of course, reading and writing. I know how to do those. I am not so sure of where to go for that, but if you'd like I can always teach you? I've promised to teach a friend of mine how to read and write the human tongue as well. It won't be a problem."Said Ferrin with a smile."Would you like to know anything else?"
My Words My Thoughts Your Words

[Aranta]

The Zith listens intently to every word that the human speaks, frowning slightly when he gets to the analogy of the way the knights work. "So," Aranta says slowly, trying to relate Ferrin's analogy to something that he already knew. "It is a bit like the way the Zith live? There are Zith who are older and fiercer, and they have more experience, so they rule the family. The children are the least experienced and must do everything the parents and older Zith say." The Zith scowls without realizing it, trying to understand what the human is saying. "Or would the squires be more like the slaves? Do they get coins? Do the knights teach them things, or are the Squires just servants?" The Zith huffs, frustrated at not being able to find a satisfactory way to understand a new concept. Ferrin's next words, though - about possibly being able to teach Aranta how to read and write - immediately brightens his expression. "I want to learn how," he tells the squire. "I want to learn everything I can; it is why I left my colony. They just wanted to hunt and kill and mate, but I want to learn about the rest of the world. Everything about it, I want to know it all."