Solo Replacements and Requirements

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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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Replacements and Requirements

Postby Konrad Venger on December 24th, 2016, 5:14 am

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8th Bell - 14th Day of Winter, 516AV - Endrykas


Strange as it seemed, Konrad had lost his distaste for rising so early in the day. At least, it seemed early to him. The Drykas were a people used to rising not with Syna, but before her. So much needed to be attended when all a man had, ate or sold needed to be gained from his own labors. By the time the Sunberthian's eyes creaked open, he could see busy feet tramping around outside his tent, hooves trotting here and there, a boisterous babble above them as the city awoke.

He grunted that morning and rubbed his face. That was not his life. Most days he woke when the drink or the smoke wore off, around midday, sometimes later. Then he'd shrug on his clothes and strap his steel to himself and go out to find a job. In Kenash it was a little more... structured, but the basic principle applied.

Now things had changed again, and the reason why punched him in the guts a few ticks after waiting.

Something was alive and angry in his stomach, even after nigh-on two-score days of healing. Konrad feared, in his private moments, that it would never go away. He'd suffered pain before, it was a mere byproduct of his profession, but this... it was inside him, always. After every meal, every exertion, every few bells of sleep, it came to him. Sometimes not even then; it just popped by unannounced, hard and fierce enough to double him over, and then left him there, without pain and often without dignity.

He'd happily take double in pain in his leg and back and shoulder, if only this one would just sod off and leave him be.

Quit you're whining and make the damn tea.

Konrad - or, rather, "Hansel" - straightened up from a crouch as he left the tent. Stiff limbs and knotted muscles groaned in protest but were silenced as Syna smacked him around the face, blinding his eyes into shutting. Gods, and this was supposed to be Winter? A few days ago, that cold night when he'd practiced his wyrd, that had been Winter, and he'd since learned it was a solitary exception.

Now Winter was heat and humidity, wildfires across the grass and lightning splitting the distant sky every night. Water holes dried up. Rivers shrunk. Herds dead from starvation and predators mad from hunger, willing to assault Drykas in desperation.

It was strange. Unnatural. Unholy, many said, but for Konrad, it was simpler: he was simply glad it was warmer for the sake of his wounds. He knew how bad wounds could get, how slow they could heal, in the bitter cold.

Instead, he was able to slowly, carefully, but somewhat painlessly shuffle over to the campfire and find a pot of water. He laid it on the griddle across the flames and waited on his knees until the water bubbled and boiled. Then he rummaged through his bag until he found the thin stems, toothed leaves and red flowers of the Tolm he'd purchased.

Nahrar, the healer, had been right in his suggestions. It helped. Konrad only hoped it would not have to help forever.

It was a slow process, though. It was his ritual, every morning and sometimes the evening, when the pain was too much. He'd learned it took fifteen, maybe twenty times for the herbs to sink into the water properly, make a good thick tea for drinking. Nahrar had told him as much, but Konrad had tried to rush it the first time.

A steaming cup of hot water had been his reward, instead of a pain-soothing tea. He wouldn't be hasty again.

He watched the pavilion around him move and work and live. The Drykas and walahks were busy. Errands, chores, jobs, duties, everyone had to do something. Even Konrad had his duties, here and there, when Jonas found something even a half-crippled thug like him could accomplish.

There were a pair humans, washing clothes and scrubbing out stains. A little ways from them, a skinny man and a beefy woman - more than friends, Konrad would wager - butchered a sheep, skinning and gutting in unison, wasting nothing. An old Drykas made arrows... and younger one darned breeches... everyone had something to do.

Konrad frowned. He couldn't see Jonas. Or his unofficial bodyguards, Hulking and More Hulking. He knew they had names but, well, really: what did they matter, as long as their function was so obvious?

He shuffled on his knees and felt that absence again. Not just of purpose or vitality, or even gold in his purse, but the lack of a weight at the small of his back. He still wore his harness every day, laden with weapons, but the kukri sheath had been empty for dozens of days. He'd left it buried in the neck of the horse Three Eyes had been riding. The Drykas with Jonas had found him, his old dagger, his kopis still in its sheath, but his kukri? They'd let that alone, for whatever reason. Same reason his own horse had vanished, too, he supposed.

Couldn't wait forever, just because they found some half-dead walahk in the grass.

He wanted it back, but that was unlikely to happen. Only a Webber would be able to find the spot he'd been found, and even then scavengers would have torn apart the horse, spread the blade elsewhere... so sod it, that was that. It had been riding his body for twenty years but now, well, times change.

Time to get a new one.

"'ey, easy wiv' that!"

Konrad blinked and cursed himself savagely under his breath, hurriedly moving the pot off the griddle-

-and cursing even louder as he forgot to cover his damn hands first. He wrapped them in a cloth and took the bubbling-over concoction away from the flames, waiting for the froth to subside, and perhaps the attention...

"Gotta keep an eye on it, mate."

No such luck. He looked up and there was a friendly grin bearing down on him. One of the walahks... gods, he was even thinking in bloody Pavi, now. Some human or another, seeking fellowship with another of his kind in a strange place. Konrad nodded and looked down at the pot.

"So... what's it for?"

Konrad's teeth ground. Audibly.

"Pain."

"Oh? What kind?"
Clearly Konrad all but baring his teeth hadn't worked. Still wanted to be friends. "Smells like... Tolm, right? I've heard that's good for-"

"Too early for me to be petchin' polite, boy, so keep walkin'. I wanna chat with youse, I'll open my mouth in yer direction. Youse don't need to do the same t'me."


He looked up and green eyes burned like molten jade under the brim of his hat. Konrad was good at The Look. He'd made a career of it, back in Sunberth. Well, that and his ruthlessness and skill with sharp steel. But often, just The Look was enough to get people into line. By the paling of his skin and the quick dance his throat-ball did, the younger man seemed to get the message.

"I... er... I-I'll leave you to it, ah, then..."

He nodded. So did Konrad. Then he petched off, thank the gods.

Konrad looked down and saw the shimmering water had become placid, but stained. A thick scum of boiled-to-debris Tolm was slick and filthy on the top, and tried to be delicate as he poured the tea into a cup... careful... don't let too much of the herb into the cup... then put the rest to one side. That'd be good for tonight, if he had anymore trouble.

He blew on the steaming cup and tasted it. Bitter as buggery but cool enough to drink. He screwed his eyes shut and fought the urge to vomit as he tipped the cup up and up and-

Ah... it felt better. He didn't know how much of his relief was real and how much was his mind telling him it was real, but either way, he felt that tangled nest of barbed wire in his stomach melt away after a few chimes. He swilled the dregs and knocked them back like a shot of 'shine, taking the speck of herbs with it, swallowing it all down.

Syna was high already. Soon the city would move again, he was sure. But he spied the low, dark smudges on the far horizon. A finger-width then, but Konrad knew wind and time would bring them closer, and they would mass over Endrykas like a death shroud.

Storm coming, he thought, placing the cup with the herbal tea and feeling a little better. Best to get things done quickly.

A few chimes later he was limping out of the pavilion's area, a short, important list repeating in his head.
Last edited by Konrad Venger on December 27th, 2016, 12:45 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Konrad Venger
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Replacements and Requirements

Postby Konrad Venger on December 24th, 2016, 10:14 pm

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"Wadaya mean "you don't have any"?"

"Pretty much exactly what it sounds like, lad."


The old man with the mustache didn't look up as he spoke, though there was no contempt or malice in his tone. Just the stark, simple truth of the situation. Konrad's eyes narrowed but the man kept on with his work, focused on the lengths or wire and rope that his quick hands made into snares like he was a magician. Irritable as he was, Konrad couldn't help but admire his skill. Even wasting a blink could mean he'd miss exactly how the Drykas had managed to make this snare, that trap, hook this knot through-

"A kukri," he said sharply, burst through his own damned stupid curiosity. "Like... y'know, this-" he shook his kopis by the hilt, and the Drykas flicked a half-tick glance at it "-but smaller, aye? Maybe a foot-anna'-half long?"

"I know what it is, lad."
Still that same, infuriating lack of attention, of urgency. "I've seen enough Summers to know most of the weapons men kill each other with. We just haven't got what you're looking for here. Sorry to disappoint."

"Y'don't seem too sorry."


That got his attention. Those gnarled but quick hands stopped their knotting. His eyes raised. The jabbering squabble of male and female voices on the other side of the tent stopped, and Konrad saw what was undoubtedly siblings stare at him with mingled surprise and outrage. Konrad felt the temperature in the tent drop a few degrees; out of instinct his fingers twitched, hand hovered a little closer to his sword...

The old man just blinked. He seemed to see everything around him and just sighed, sitting back in his chair and fiddling with a smooth clay pipe.

"Hmm... I've heard about you, lad." Konrad couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him by that youthful moniker. "Jonas and his bunch, found you in the sea, hmm? Outside Kenash? You should have died, they say. Cut to pieces, slashed a dozen times, drained of your blood, they say. Now you heal without a word, hobble around on errands, and make fire with your hands... they say."

Tinder clinked and scraped in his hands as he lit the pipe. Konrad felt his jaw work behind his pursed lips, but didn't do anything. What could he do, anyway? Strike down an old man? His... children? Either way, three dead or maimed for his pride, and then what?

They trample criminals here. Stake you down and run their horses over you. As many times as they need to.

"They say quite a bit."

"They always do, lad. But I say..."
Now the man looked at him. Studied him. Glow of his pipe sparkling in eyes set into a bed of wrinkles, and sharper than any blade Konrad carried. "You're not a man who needs another blade. You've got a big one right there on your belt, and more besides, I'd wager, hidden out of sight. But you know what you do need?"

"Do tell."


Ronir Duskstep pointed behind the walahk with the stem of his pipe and watched smoldering resentment slide to curiosity instead. Outsiders. They were such simple creatures. No imagination. They thought swinging around a sword was what made a warrior, but the Drykas weren't so easy. Speed, mobility, distance, these were their weapons, not just in war but on the hunt, which was far more important to them.

What good was expertise with every sword known to the world against a man who could put an arrow through your visor at a hundred paces? A fundamental question the Drykas had posited to generations of walahk belligerents, and thus far, none had provided a good enough answer.

"Bows? Arrows?"

"You can't hunt with a sword, lad."
Konrad lifted up a bow that seemed somehow short in his hands. He turned to see the man speak, puffing genially on his pipe. "You can with a bow. You can even fish with one."

"What about a crossbow?"


Ronir huffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, we have some of those. For all the good they're worth."

"I used to have one. Wasn't that bad of a shot with-"

"And if you couldn't kill a bowman with your first bolt, by the time you got another ready to fire, he could have a half-dozen arrows in your chest. Or just walked over and cut your throat. Not even mentioning how heavy they are, and try reloading one on a bloody horse. No, lad. Out here, a good bow and straight arrows are damn-near blessed by the gods."


Another first, Konrad thought: he couldn't remember the last time he'd been interrupted, either. That was a curious boon, though. He was not known in Endrykas. No-one knew his history, the catalog of atrocities he'd carried out, his work as killer, reaver, thug, butcher, extortionist, torturer and man-hunter. Hells, they didn't even know his real name.

And, of course, the old sod's probably right.

"How much for this one?"

Ronir tipped his gaze and squinted a touch at the shortbow Konrad was holding. "Twenty gold coins."

"Arrows?"

"In the barrel underneath the rack. Twenty for a gold coin. You'll need a quiver, unless you want to just carry them loose or bound up with leather."
Ronir grimaced minutely a shook his head. "Not very comfortable. Or useful."

Konrad's mouth curled into something like a smile, or as best as he could manage. Yellowed teeth poked out from between mutilated lips and his head bobbed a little under his hat. Cool and collected, indeed... and he knew how to make a sale, too.

"Sounds like a fair deal," he said, picking out a leather quiver. He picked out and slid twenty arrows into the quiver and hefted it over his head and across his back. "So... how much?"

"Forty-one, all told."


Konrad frowned as he did the math and cocked his head. "As much for the thing holdin' the arrows as the bow itself? C'mon. Call it thirty. For an ignorant walahk you've put on the right path, eh?"

Ronir smirked around his pipe, thinking that "ignorance" was relative in the case of this "Hansel" character. He knew this type of walahk: violence radiated out of them, and the older ones were sharp enough to survive even though they walked a path steeped in blood. Whatever ignorance this one had, it wouldn't last.

"That thing you've got?" He seemed to point with his eyebrows at the shortbow hooked across Konrad's shoulder. "That'll feed you, protect you and, one day, put coin in your pocket, too. Against all that, I think you're getting a bargain. Forty-one."

The walahk patted the hilt of his sword, like one would the rump of a lover.

"This does all that."

Ronir's eyebrow quirked. "Right now? Out here?"

... bugger.

Konrad's smile stayed in place, but Ronir could see the humor drain from his eyes like blood from a corpse. They were like green stones when Konrad counted out the coins into a pile and tipped them into his hands. And then he counted them himself.

"Just one thing missing now, lad."

"Gods, y'never stop, do ya?"

"Nothing from here, don't fret. But of all the things a Drykas needs, or anyone needs out here, and you still don't have one."
Konrad watched his money vanish into a little chest and nodded slowly. "Can you guess?"

The Sunberth man cracked a crooked smile and started walking for the entrance flap.

"Don't need to. S'where I'm headin' next, horse lord."

Receipt :
Shortbow - 20gm
Arrows, Shortbow - 1gm
Quiver - 20gm
TOTAL: -41gm
Last edited by Konrad Venger on December 27th, 2016, 12:47 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Konrad Venger
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Replacements and Requirements

Postby Konrad Venger on December 25th, 2016, 6:42 am

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The animals seemed to know the storm was coming. Instead of hanging their heads out of their stables, eager to be petted or fed, they were hanging back under the cover of the collapsible constructs. Konrad could see a few more crowded stalls suddenly looking less-packed. The animals inside were huddled up together, as if bracing themselves.

"What're you looking for, friend?"

He turned and found a smiling figure with hair like thick vines plastered across his skull, cascading down his bare chest. The man took in the thin, tall man in the hat, and his scars. Konrad waited for some flinch... but there was none. Just a hand extended in greeting. Along with perfect Common.

"Need a horse."

"Don't we all?"
Atticus spread his arms wide, taking in all of Steeds and Yves into his figurative embrace. "This is the City of the Horse Lords, after all. Though you don't strike me as a Drykas."

"That obvious, huh?"


Atticus made a great show of looking down Konrad... very slowly... then back up. Long enough that the mercenary couldn't help but smile.

"Just a touch."

"Funny man."


He walked stiffly and slowly down the stables, Atticus at his elbow. Long face after long, furry face stared placidly back at him. Some chewed oats or hay, others just huffed. All of them were in good condition, as far as he could tell. Well-groomed, and the shyke, well it was fresh. They didn't neglect their animals.

"How much're we talking for, say, that'n?"

"Hmm, seems like you have a good eye."
Atticus said, and Konrad bit his tongue not to correct him. The man was either buttering him up for a sale or a terrible judge of character. He could guess which. "Heavy horse like Thunder? Go you two hundred mizas-"

Konrad's pained wince cut off the rest and he shook his head.

"Too rich f'my blood, mate. What've you got in the region a' say..." Now he made the show. Paused and seemed to do sums in his head, before finally spitting out: "Thirty mizas?"

He was expecting Atticus' attitude to change like a snow man struck by a fireball, and wasn't entirely disappointed. The man's smile flickered a touch - the grief known only to businessman enlightened that, no, there would be no great windfall today - but it wasn't immediately replaced by indifference or rudeness. The man scratched his chest and the plethora of trinkets, necklaces and talismans around his neck chimed together.

"Hmm... come down this way."

They kept walking and the horses got smaller. Konrad realized after a few ticks that they weren't technically horses anymore: they were ponies. Shorter than their larger cousins, they were stockier, too. Stouter in the way a man built to lift was compared to one built to run. They had shorter snouts and certainly didn't seem to keen on letting anyone near them. No need to impress from these creatures.

Konrad liked that. He stopped and nodded at one, a dappled creature whose back came up nearly to his chest. Konrad knew these things would be smaller, but he didn't want to look like a complete idiot, riding one so small his sodding feet would drag on the ground.

"That one? As luck would have it... thirty mizas."

Konrad rolled his eyes. Walked right into that one.

"You vouch for 'im?"

"I vouch for every horse and pony I sell,"
Atticus said with just a hint of reproach. Konrad was expecting it. Ronir was Emerald Clan, so if he said a shortbow was best for hunting, it probably was. He'd learned that clan prided itself on being the best hunters in Endrykas, and he would seek to prove that just as much as make a profit. Likewise, the Amethyst Clan enjoyed a reputation as the best horse-breeders, and for Atticus to make an unwise sell, even to a walahk... no, it wouldn't do. "They're not much to look at, not compared to the thoroughs, the paints, the quarters... but they're tough little bastards. Stamina and hardiness, that's what they're built for."

"Why not sell 'em for more?"

"Looking to part with more coin?"

"Jus' curious."


Atticus smiled and hopped over the fence to the pony. He walked it over and Konrad was surprised at just how easy it was for him. The pony gave him a glassy look and snuffled... but came over, willing as a whipped dog. Atticus stopped the thing in front of Konrad and jutted his chin towards it.

"Go ahead... see? Not going to take your hand off." He waited until Konrad had placed a reluctant-but-determined hand on that fuzzy snout before continuing. "We've always plenty of horses to choose from. Horses, mind you, not ponies. That's where the real money is, because they are stronger, and bigger, and faster. But ponies have their place. We're a business, not just a pavilion. We see a market, we'll cater to it."

He chuckled and scratched Dapple - gods, you've already named it - under the chin. There was a ripple of pleasured wind acros Konrad's sleeve and the corners of his mouth pricked up.

"And I like this little buggers, I'll admit. They're mean as snakes some days, but once they know you, they'll die for you."

There was a muted clink of coin and when Atticus turned round, Konrad was foisting a handful of gold into his palm. He counted them all out and nodded when he reached thirty. A few tedious chimes later, Konrad had a scribbled out bill of sale in his pocket and was leading his stout little friend away-

"Hey, you'll want a saddle!"

"Can't afford a saddle,"
he said over his shoulder, then stopped as something more important came to mind. "But I'll need to feed it, where can I-"

"Place called the Guided Horse,"
Atticus said before he could even finish, grinning like he enjoyed reading the scarred human's mind. "They take care of our mounts when we can't ourselves. Don't charge, either."

"Why?"


Atticus just grinned wider. A suspicious one, this walahk. Well, weren't they all?

"Endrykas always needs horses, friend!" He said, almost shouting as Konrad kept walking, setting his hat on his head good and square. "Take care of him!"

Konrad smiled back and bent the front brim of his hat down a little by way off a farewell. Oh, he knew that part, anyway. He'd never met a people so in love with the four-legged sods before in in his life. He doubted they loved their own children as much. But considering where they were, he could understand why... and now, he could have his own bit of independence, too.

He patted his pocket, and the pathetic jingle (or lack of it, really) reminded him at what that would cost. Next to him, Dapple let loose a jet of air as Konrad led him along by the rope around his neck. The Sunberthian smirked and patted the short, coarse mane flowing down the back of his head... and snorted right back as it seemed to lean into his hand.

"Aye, m'yer man, lit'lun. Try n' be worth the money, eh?"

Another snort, as if to say "we shall see". Konrad rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Receipt :
Pony, "Dapple" - 30gm
TOTAL: -30gm

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Konrad Venger
Long is The Way and Hard
 
Posts: 923
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Joined roleplay: November 23rd, 2015, 4:05 pm
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Replacements and Requirements

Postby Konrad Venger on December 28th, 2016, 5:32 am

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TWANG

THUNK

"Bollocks..."


Konrad knew there were certain merits to being self-taught in anything, but two bells after making sure Dapple was secure in the communal pasture, he was losing that independent spirit. The twentieth arrow thwacked into the side of the barrel, burying it's head a good quarter inch into the wood... maybe a foot from where Konrad had aimed.

Two bells of this, he thought, rolling his sore shoulder around and gritting his teeth. Damn thing'll fall off by the time I finish the next load.

He walked over to the barrel that looked more like a deformed hedgehog now; one side was completely covered in arrows, feathered ends sprouting all over without reason or pattern. Konrad glared at the mark he'd made in the side with his knife, a rough but visible circle that was completely clear of arrows.

"Twenny paces," he grumbled to himself as he pulled the arrows free and returned them to his quiver. "Twenny paces an' at this rate the sod'd have my head without even an arra' in 'is arm for the trouble..."

At least his audience seemed to have departed, sparing him any additional embarrassment (though maybe they'd just had their fill, anyway). He'd got his share of attention when he was spied lugging an empty barrel away from the Pridesun pavilion and into a patch of the Sea of Grass just beyond the Topaz quarter of Endrykas. The smart money was that he was going to use it for firewood, though there was some discussion as to why he would be carrying it out there, only to bring said wood back.

Then they saw him carve the target, take twenty steps and ready his bow. That's when the laughter started.

Gods, if I wasn't a sodding cripple right now...

He stomped back through the scrub to his shooting spot and cast a baleful eye across the crowd... off exactly two bored-looking Drykas youths. Turning his back, he drew an arrow... nocked it in the string of the bow...and took up his stance.

He tried to remember what he'd seen. He'd been with Jonas and his people from a score-and-ten of days, and seen plenty of their shooting. Hunting, practicing, it didn't matter. He dredged it up from memory and tried to mold his body to fit the images... which wasn't easy, since most of the time they'd been on horses.

Steady the bow, he told himself, raising the bow in his left hand. He tried not to grip too hard: the first bundle had taught him that doing so made the bow wobble. Thus followed a curse-laden half-bell where he'd tracked down all the arrows that had completely missed the barrel and sailed into the grass.

Sight down the arrow. It wobbled, or at least his grip did. Konrad closed one eye and a blurred pair of images became one. He rested the tip of the arrow over the circular target, about the size of a man's head, and then...

He drew back, pulled the string until it was tight and trembling... more than was good, he'd wager. His bad shoulder was the one he pulled with, and of course it would be his right, his strongest, most used, most familiar limb. Sweat snaked down the side of his head, furrowing through his scars, the exertion of two bells catching up with him. He pulled until he couldn't go any further, took a breath-

A hangover from firing his crossbow. Trying to still his limbs in that golden tick before he let fly-

TWANG

THUNK

"Hmmm..."


The sound came out as more of a grunt, but there was some satisfaction in it. The arrow was closer, whipping from his bow and across the hot air in the time it took to blink. There was a dull whack of impact and he squinted, finding the arrow maybe half a foot from his target.

Well... better than before.

Konrad drew another arrow, nocked, raised the bow and drew at the same time... and his shoulder groaned, healing muscle and tendons warning him of the stress he was putting them under. Now the arrow was shaking like a man with palsy held it, but he ground his teeth and sighted... pulled back until the ball of his thumb was touching his cheek and-

TWANG

THUNK


He sighed, and something coarse, virulent and pure Sunberth came out with it. But at least he'd hit the barrel. Still, he shook his head and decided two bells was enough for one day. Considering half his arrows hadn't gone near the barrel when he first started, he was somewhat happy with his progress.

Relatively, of course.

He yanked his two arrows from the barrel and felt something shift in his coat pocket as he turned back to the riot of tents, pavilions and makeshift stables back the way he'd come from. Konrad frowned and racked his brain, but all it took was his fingers on a length of sharpened steel for him to remember what it was. He pulled it out and a half-smile twisted his lips as he held up another new weapon he'd gained.

Considering what he'd had to endure to get it, he wasn't about to let it go lightly... and since he already had his target set up...

"A'right, Eyes," he muttered with malicious enjoyment, tossing the throwing knife from hand to hand, impressed by how light such a deadly little tool could be. "Might as well give it a try."

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Konrad Venger
Long is The Way and Hard
 
Posts: 923
Words: 1060755
Joined roleplay: November 23rd, 2015, 4:05 pm
Location: Endrykas
Race: Human, Mixed
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Replacements and Requirements

Postby Konrad Venger on December 28th, 2016, 7:11 am

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Konrad had only been watching the Drykas for a third of a season, give or take; he'd been around Three Eyes the better part of twenty years. He'd seen those knives in action countless times, both flying and held, and he'd grown familiar with them. Of course he rarely had to use them; ironically enough, the most time he'd had "getting to know" them had been while Three Eyes was trying to use them to kill him... and when he'd used one to kill the man himself.

For long chimes, he stood on the steppe beyond the tents, tossing the knife from hand to hand. It felt bigger when it was inside his back, that was for damn sure. It was still there when Jonas and his pavilion came across him, and oddly enough, that had been to his advantage.

Konrad knew better than most the cascade of blood that came from pulling a blade free from flesh. Better to leave it in, if you wanted to survive. What was wounding you was also plugging a hole, as it were.

Should have been the one, he thought, smile growing across his face. I hadn't turned, he'd have get me right through the sodding ticker.

A high whinny from the pavilion snapped him out of his reverie. Well, past was past. It hadn't been the Blessed Blade to end Konrad Venger, had it? No, he was alive and Three Eyes was most likely scavenger shyke over half of the Sea of Grass by now. Any road up, he had a new knife. Best learn to use it.

He stepped closer to the barrel, maybe ten paces, gripping the knife like he remembered Three Eyes doing. He liked blades he could throw and use close up: one never know the circumstances, after all. So he held it like a hammer, gripping it tight, thumb along the top edge... and squared his stance against the inoffensive, much-pierced barrel.

Can't be too much to it... can there?

Konrad raised his arm and bit down the twinge of angry muscle in his shoulder. His back pinched angrily at him to, as if his flesh remembered the damage wrought upon it by the very thing he was holding. He brought it forwards, slowly... stopped it in front of his face, where he'd let go... then brought it back over and behind his head again and-

FWISH

BANG

"Bugger!"


Konrad's hand snapped to his shoulder as the sudden movement launched a hundred tiny, invisible teeth gnawing into it. The knife cartwheeled lazily through the bright sky and hit the barrel. Hit, not stabbed. It smacked into it with a metal clang that seemed to boom out "failure" in any language. Then it dropped into the grass and Konrad stalked over to it, massaging his shoulder, already starting to go numb.

Gods... one more and then that's it, he thought as he bent down (that was a whole new pain) to pick it up. Syna was starting to sweep towards her resting place for the night, but this wasn't your normal Winter sunset. Konrad would guess he'd have... well, probably about as much time as he would in the height of Summer, actually. She was smeared and seen through a haze as the clouds enveloped her, but he still had plenty of time left.

For the traps, he reminded himself, taking up his stance again and bringing the knife back and forth, getting the weight of it. Gotta be useful.

He stopped. It was odd. Alien. Out of character, if he knew what that meant, but... yes, he did have to be useful. He wasn't doing much else, after all. Just hobbling around, running odd jobs and errands for Jonas, biding his time until he was able to move around without limping and swing his sword without his shoulder feeling fit to fall off. But it was... strange. He wanted to be doing something. Even if it was just to prove that he could.

Let go at the right moment, he reminded himself, squinting for a tick as he sighted down the blade. He drew back and braced himself for the pain and then-

FWISH

THUNK

"Sh... aye... that'll do it."


Konrad smirked at the knife hilt wobbling in the barrel. Not on target, of course, but at least it went in pointy-end first. Then again, his shoulder was wavering between total numbness and red-hot-pins-and-needles, so it was something of a mixed victory. He walked over and yanked the knife out the wood, sheathing it in the empty parcel of leather that his kukri used to rest in.

Then he looked up into the yellow orb made smoky and painless to his eyes by the clouds. Definitely a storm. His traps would probably not survive the night... but that was no reason not to try. Even one working got him food for the day. Konrad walked back to his tent with a bow over his shoulder and arrows across his back and all the exertions of the day throbbed across his skin like sunburn.

He didn't mind them. Practice. Training. Whatever one called it, he'd been missing the distraction. Now he had something more than just errands and rabbit snares to occupy his time while he healed and-

"Shyyyyyyke...!"

There it came. Deep and dark and growling and snapping up intestines like a rabid wolf. He gasped and the air wouldn't come, driving him down to one knee. Sweat sprouted out of every pore on his face and he swallowed hard, like his throat was a single stone. The tea. He needed that tea.

It stung and burned and twisted in him, and then it was gone. Konrad's boots crunched across the dry grass, and by the time he got back, the first cracks in the sky were booming across the horizon.

||Common||Thoughts||Pavi||Fratava||Myrian||Other's Speaking||
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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Konrad Venger
Long is The Way and Hard
 
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Replacements and Requirements

Postby Rufio on January 26th, 2017, 11:48 am

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g r a d e


xp

Observation +4
Endurance +3
Cooking +1
Herbalism +1
Intimidation +1
Planning +2
Socialization +2
Subterfuge +1
Negotiation +2
Weapon, Shortbow +2
Weapon, Throwing Knife +3



lores

Herbalism: Tolm tea for pain
Herbalism Tolm Tea: Steep stems, leaves & flowers for 15-20 chimes
Ronir Duskstep: Abrasive
Drykas: Deliver their death penalty by horse-trampling
Atticus Rin Of Steeds & Yvas: Funny man
Drykas Emerald Clan: Expert hunters
Drykas Amethyst Clan: Expert horse-breeders
Archery: Gripping too hard puts off aim
Archery: Aim down the arrow shaft
Weapon, Knife: Beneficial for both long & short range
Throwing Knives: Hammer grip
Throwing Knives: Let go at just the right moment
Konrad: Adapting to Drykas way of life


penalties

Minor scald to his palm healing in 7 days without/ 3 days with treatment
Ache in arms & shoulders healing in 3 days without/2 days with rest


  
Rufio
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Joined roleplay: June 21st, 2015, 10:40 pm
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