Disarmed (Vantus, closed)

[Rage]

Continuation from The Gates Timestamp: 42nd of Summer, 512 AV

[Vantus]

OOCApologies for not realising! And thank you for being so nice about it too Hey, this is going to be fun anyway! As he walked the tunnel, light seemed to drain from his surroundings, and he quickly became aware of the hulking shadow moving to block him. He looked back, and found the guards standing awkwardly, moving their spears to block his retreat. He swallowed, but he was not surprised. The Myrians were a fierce race. He should have thought that entering the city would not be so easy as to stroll down a tunnel. He looked back to the figure. A woman. He met her eyes only momentarily. They were intense, full of strength and passion. "Vantus, of the Coglias Clan. I come from Sultros..." he looked back up to the Myrian woman, making sure his words held the conviction they did in his heart, "I come seeking strength."

[Rage]

"Is that so?" It was a question but the woman's tone was so flat and expressionless that the Isur would never mistake it as such. For a moment she paused, glancing at the darkness within the tunnel. Vantus would swear he saw the shadows shift. From his vantage point, it was hard to determine what it was the lurked inside the tunnel. He did catch a glimpse of the twin morningstars strapped behind the warrior woman's back, however. Unlike the weapons of the two guards, which were fashioned from bone, these dangerous-looking spiked balls were metallic - and they were large enough to cave in a adult tiger's skull. They appeared to have a perpetual reddish tinge upon them, as if the blood they had spilled had never really been washed off from their surface. Or perhaps it was just a play of light on his vision. Before Vantus could determine which one it truly was, the Myrian had turned back upon him. "Could be there is strength to find inside our walls. But what makes you think we would let you enter? Not everyone is allowed passage within..." She eyes drifted pointedly at the massive skeleton of a snake pegged to the stonewalls, though Vantus would note that before doing so, the woman had been staring rather intently at his green-tinged arm. Not many Isurs made their way to Falyndar. The journey from Kalea was dangerous, the jungle wilds even more so. He was, perhaps, the first Isur in a long time to have reached the Myrian city's gates. Or likely, his off-color arm was such an oddity that these people found it a curiosity. He could never tell which, not from the neutral expression on the woman's face. He was being judged, it was clear. He had to make a good accounting of himself, show these rustic people what he could offer them in exchange of being allowed entry to their city. He had to, lest he be turned away back into the wilds. Or, worse - and this Vantus did not know unless he knew well the reputation of these savage Myrians - killed on the very spot where he stood for daring to trespass.

[Vantus]

He watched the figure carefully, knowing he was being judged with measuring eyes. With eyes of strength and passion - with the ferocity of the jungle. He was warm. Gods he was warm, even with the rain. Falyndar had a climate all of its own, and the heat made him a little uncomfortable under the Myrian's gaze. In the corner of his eyes, something moved in the darkness. He turned, but couldn't quite catch anything. When he turned, he began to make out the imposing silhouette before him a little more. She had weapons - deadly weapons. Just before she turned back to face him, he noted the crimson hue of the weapons. He steeled himself, hoping to retain some of that courage in the face of this wild woman. She began to look at his arm - as other races often did. They were part of the earth and stone, the Isur. The heart of their God pulsing within every man and woman of Sultros. "I understand. I am not ignorant of your people. I... admire you. The closer I got to Taloba, the more I heard. The strongest people. Savages, bloodthirsty, but not uncontrollable - you are ruled by your hearts and your passions. You strike when the need makes itself clear. I wish to learn of your ways... and in return there are skills I can share too. I am handy with a blacksmithing hammer and forge. My God's mark allows me to craft the finest weapons and armour in all of Mizahar. Have you heard of an Isur blade? They will not dull. Not now, not ever. What I ask for, I will give back. I do not expect your gifts for nothing in return." He swallowed, but looked to her face again. He hoped his convictions would placate her threats.

[Rage]

Vantus' mention of blacksmithing seemed to have piqued the guards' interest, for they furtively glanced at his direction more than once. Even the one who had accosted him could not help the twinkle intrigue in her eyes upon absorbing his words. "You are a shaper of metal?" she asked, as if she needed him to reaffirm what he had just said. She did not give him the chance to speak again, however. With a snap of her fingers, the woman gestured at the Isur and, before Vantus could react, he found his arms pulled wide to the side, each one held by the guards who had quickly moved in from behind. One for them twisted his right arm - not too roughly, but just enough to force him to bend his torso forward to ease off the sudden pain. If he was the observant type, Vantus would note that he was not being treated like a prisoner. Not yet, at least. After the initial physical treatment, the guards did nothing else but maintain their hold on him. One did pat him down, likely feeling for hidden weapons, while the other took the time to search his pack - one-handed - looking for what, Vantus could only guess. It took a few long moments, but the one rifling through his pack finally pulled out an object. He warbled something to the woman in their native tongue before offering it reverently to her. Vantus, bent in an awkward position, could not see what it was. More silence ensued. Finally, the woman spoke. "Are you a liar, Vantus of the Green Arm?" She flicked the object at the Isur's feet as she said these words. It buried itself halfway into the soft earth, but it was still easily recognizable to its owner. It was his eating knife. "What is this Isur blade you speak of?"

[Vantus]

He could see the interest at the mention of his skills. Surely, Izentor would be of good use here in the warrior city. Suddenly, however, he was accosted and held from both sides. They were rough initially, searching him for something, or perhaps simply checking. In the end though, they did not pin him down, they merely held his arms widely and firmly so that he could not move. There was an urge inside him to fight. Perhaps the Myrians would see it burn in his eyes. But it was momentary, for Vantus knew to act now would be beyond stupid - and would certainly seal his death. He turned his head a fraction, to see a Myrian rifling through his meagre set of possessions. He tried to see what the object he finally pulled out was, but the guards had him in such a position that he could only listen to the foreign whisperings of the Taloban people. Suddenly, the woman turned on him, ire and rage. He watched his eating knife thud into the earth before him, and then looked up to meet her eyes. Vantus of the Green Arm. An appropriate, and obvious name no less. "I did not lie," he finally said, "I... I have no Isur blade with me. I have no weapon, except this small knife, and my strength aided by the magicks of Flux. If it is my workmanship you wish to see - perhaps I can show you?" He knew his words were brave. Reckless, even. But it seemed strength was the order of the day. The promise of weapons had piqued their interest, and if his Isur lineage was to be his opening into Taloba, so be it.

[Rage]

"Magic?!" One of the morningstar seem to materialize in the woman's hand, so fast had she pulled it out from behind her that Vantus did not even register the movement. If the Isur thought the Myrian's expression could not get any more severe, he was quite mistaken. The way her brow knotted together would remind him of distant storm clouds brewing in the horizon. It did not bode well for him. Perhaps magic was the wrong thing to say among these folks? He would find that the guards had released him as well, backing off from him as if he was some poisonous viper. They had each leveled their weapons, however, the sharp ends pointed his way. "This is not the place for you, deyhan." The woman raised her arm, preparing to deliver a blow that would no doubt cave Vantus' skull in. She only had to swing her arm now and let the momentum of the spiked ball do the rest. But no such thing came. The Myrian's hand was intercepted by another woman, who grabbed the first by the wrist. Vantus' would-be attacker whirled around, anger flashing in her eyes. A brief exchange of foreign words followed, sharp and biting from the first woman but cool and calm from the newcomer. In the end, the second woman switched her speech to common, likely for the Isur's benefit. "I will take care of it." The first woman's answer was to storm off back in the tunnel, waving her hand dismissively and disgustedly. The newcomer approached Vantus. The Isur would find that her features were softer, almost kinder, compared to that of the one who had just left. Save for the round shield strapped on her back, she was weaponless, though there was a stout spear leaning on the tunnel wall where none had been before. "Be at ease, strange one. The shadow of Dira's herald has passed." She lowered her head, almost seeming as if she had just bowed to him. "I am known as Jakai of the Patient Shadows. I have been watching since your arrival. We do not get many...visitors...around here and those who come, like you, do not know our ways. I encourage silence until you do. "Do you truly wish to enter?" She held up a hand before Vantus could reply. "I warn you now, there will be a price."

[Vantus]

The moment passed quickly enough. The Myrian woman preparing to strike him with a deathblow, so suddenly he barely had time to register what was happening. He had said something to upset her. Flux, perhaps? Had that been when she had winced? Another woman entered the frey, stopping the blow, and negotiating something with his would be killer. The original Myrian left in anger, another woman turning to him. Jakai. She was less stern than the first woman, though when she advised him of silence he felt chagrined. Was he so green to have come here, to Taloba, to fail and be turned away? Had he been stupid to leave Sultros in the first place? She asked the same question of him, before pausing him with a hand. A price. A price in coin, or in flesh and blood? But strength was what he sought. He knew he would find the essence of what he sought here, in the heart of the jungle. He had come too far to back away now. "I am prepared to pay the cost."

[Rage]

The Myrian waited a moment longer, as if she was giving the Isur time to change his mind, before she nodded and signaled the two guards. The males were quick to set aside their weapons and, for the second time that day, Vantus found himself being manhandled by them. Each one grabbed him on either the arm, though the one on his left appeared to be having trouble with his off-colored limb. Jakai took that as his unwillingness to cooperate. "Do not resist," she said in an even tone. She moved closer, pulling a small ceramic vial from her belt as she did so. This she upended on her open palm and Vantus could see that the container held some sort of off-white goop. Jakai scooped it up with her fingers, dabbing some of the material on the Isur's forehead and spreading the rest on her hand and wrist. It felt cool against his skin, the sensation only emphasized by the humid jungle air. "Come to me," Jakai said softly, repeating the phrase several times. She was holding out her goop-covered hand to the side, as if waiting for some sort of pet to come and lick it, but she was looking straight at Vantus. The Isur may have misconstrued the words to be meant for him so she shook his head. "Not you, outsider." It took several moments, but finally something drifted out from the darkness of the tunnel. To Vantus, it appeared to be a man, hair and beard white with age, but he could see right through it. A spirit! The ghost wore nothing from the waist up, and it was clear to see the gaping hole right in the middle of his chest, likely the cause of his death. It floated towards Jakai and seemed to bury its face on her extended hand. "I need you to be my eyes again, Eban," the Myrian said in her cool voice. The ghost lifted its head long enough to nod at her. She turned towards Vantus. "Do not resist, outsider," she repeated. And then, "To him!" she instructed the ghost, her other hand pointing at the Isur. Vantus would only have enough time to struggle against the Myrians that held him before the spirit pounced and settled within his body.

[Vantus]

For the first time, terror truly struck the Isur. The spirit leapt into his body, and the feeling electrified everything. It was total invasion. A new sentience buried within his flesh, exploring his insides. Sharp pains split in his head, as if something rummaged where his mind was. His body was no longer his own. "What..." he managed to croak, "do I... Was the ghost some kind of truth-seeker? Did the spirit seek to confirm Vantus' words? Or would there be worse repercussions. The new Myrian that had appeared before him had spoken of a price, and he had agreed, blinded by his search for strength. Panic choked him, and he stumbled forward for a moment, limbs swinging around without his consent. He jerked upright, staring right into the Myrian's eyes, willing the spirit to vacate his body quickly.