Closed Waking pains.

[Razkar] Waking up.

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

Waking pains.

Postby Alva on April 6th, 2013, 8:53 am

59th of Spring, 511 AV

The first thing she did when she woke up was flex her fingers. Something so small, so meaningless every other time she awoke became a challenge.

The pain in her head, her body, even her hands, roared at her as fiercely as an angry mother's bellow. Alva hadn't opened her eyes yet, so great was her agony, and she did not yearn to for fear it would unleash a greater torrent of agony. Breathing, she could feel the air she exhaled against her split lips. Every rise and fall of her chest proclaimed the presence of some injury she hadn't yet taken note of. Her ribs, aching and sore, burned the hottest. One felt as if it had been broken and then crudely healed into place again, but she might have been imagining it. Her chest felt battered the most, following with her stomach and her ill-fated organs that found their home around her stomach.

She remembered what had happened and counted herself lucky to still be able to feel her legs, even though with the way they ached she wished they had been cut off. Even though she knew such a wish was foolish. Bruises and cuts could heal, but without her legs she would become useless and no longer worth her stripes. Her life would be all but over for her.

She remembered the beating she had received, if only as flashes of agony that rippled across assaulted parts of her body. Stomach, sternum, arms, kidney... forehead. That was the blow she did not remember but it was the blow she felt most acutely, the headache that rippled through her a product of the blow she had received, that same blow that had downed her for good.

Anger did not ripple through her. Pride, so easily wounded out in the Yard, did not rise to the bait of being laid out in a bed in the Infirmary. She had deserved her reward for being so blinded by her wrath and frustration. She had dared the stupid and struck an instructor. What her anger boiled at was that she had succumbed so easily.

She found herself curiously strapped down when she tried to make a bigger movement and her eyes peeked open, slowly, to see what the reason was for. The barest light set her eyes afire with pain and she snarled before shutting them firmly and then, after bolstering her strength, having them fly open wildly.

The pain almost sucked her back under, but she fought it with claw and fang and looked down slowly to see the restraints keeping her hands and feet still on the bed. She tilted her head at them slowly, not understanding, but when the understanding did dawn on her, she felt greatly disgruntled that they would fear her lashing out so much they would see the need to restrain her.

Now her pride was stung as she slumped back down and sighed, staring at the ceiling above her and waiting for an attendant.
Alva
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Waking pains.

Postby Razkar on April 6th, 2013, 3:01 pm

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If you asked Razkar why he took a detour by the infirmary that day, he probably couldn't tell you. Perhaps that was just the path he'd chosen that day... but that would be unlikely. When it comes to day-to-day affairs, humanoids are creatures if habit. What works best is the route usually taken.

Perhaps to see his Aya? Yes, that would make sense, since the half-breed healer-in-training was almost always there. By the time his sandals were slapping the stone floors it was after training with his fang and there was little else to do, so...

But she wasn't there that day, and she had told him she would be with her clan instead.

The Shorn Skulls male marched down the hall, and he could not tell you why, but he could tell you who. To his surprise, he was... concerned. Not remorseful, that would be too strong a word. He did his duty and that was that. The order of the Taloba Army had to be maintained, and if that meant beating the shit out of some hothead Kelvic, so be it.

But her courage had impressed him.

The stench of dried blood and bedpans hit him when he walked under the arches. Out of instinct and habit he kissed his fingertips and brushed them on the plaque dedicated to Dira on the doorframe.

COME NOT TIL THEIR TIME IS DUE,
BUT COME QUICK AND WORK CLEAN,
IF YOU DO


Razkar began walking down the rows of beds, about half of them filled with founded Myrians. Despite the lull in their endless patrols, there were still some casualties. Accidents, training incidents, animal attacks... Taloba was a large city, and much could go wrong.

But she was set aside, near the wall. The Myrian male recognized her fiery hair immediately, stark and undiminished against her pale skin. A flicker of a smile was all he gave the sight of her and he started walking over... then frowned.

Restraints. Odd. Unless...

She was moving fitfully as he approached, arms straining against the vines wrapped around her wrists and legs. He could see the bruises by candlelight, healing with salve and sap shining on them. Her forehead was one big blotchy mess and he felt a fleeting pang of regret for that.

Well, what else could you have done? Female just did not want to go down.

"I wouldn't bother."

Alva snapped her head to him but her eyes were still slits, unaccustomed to the light. She heard a scraping of wood on stone... realized it was a chair being dragged next to her bed. That voice, though...

"Meckle Vine is notoriously strong. Even Tigers take a while chewing through it. I suppose they either thought you were so damaged you shouldn't move or that you're a filthy recruit who deserved to be tied down."

She stiffened again, this time in anger, but all she heard from The Voice that time was a low chuckle. More rustling... plant matter, by the sound of it... then some kind of flaming hiss...

Razkar sucked on his pipe and took a deep, pleasant breath of Taloba Grey into his lungs. He exhaled slowly, marshaling his thoughts.

"I should tell them you're not the latter. Just someone I needed to bang back into line. Happens a lot in training, believe me..."
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Waking pains.

Postby Alva on April 8th, 2013, 12:15 am

Alva stiffened when she heard his voice. Someone had come to gloat, she realised. A better-than-you type of Myrian that would scoff at her, tell her she deserved what she got and more. If she had free hands, she might have tried to throttle the Myrian, to her greater detriment.

As he spoke, inciting anger in her at his first group of words, Alva slowly began to realise who he was. She swung her head to see if it was that Myrian, but she was squinting still as her eyes adjusted and wouldn't be able to see him at all. Her head was ringing horribly when she moved, so she gave up, settling for just clenching her hands against the roots holding her down and sighing deeply. She was resigned to dealing with him talking to her and insulting her, as she figured he would have come only to do that. Probably another part of her punishment.

"You have come here only to sit there and gloat?" She asked. Her mouth hurt as she spoke, but she managed irregardless. She could smell the smoke as he exhaled and wrinkled her nose, not a fan of something that could overpower other smells so much. She turned her head to avoid the smell and set her mouth in a scowl. She knew she probably looked ridiculous. "I do not take well to bragging," she said.
Alva
Harsher of the mellow.
 
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Waking pains.

Postby Razkar on April 16th, 2013, 7:24 pm

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"You have come here only to sit there and gloat? I do not take well to bragging."

Razkar cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, smoke cloud drifting a little further away from the recovering Kelvic. He had expected her reaction; it would be his own, under the circumstances.

"Would you believe that I want to make sure your were recovering well?" Another disdainful, untrusting expression on a face still marred by bruises, and Razkar couldn't help but chuckles. Little plumes of smoke escaped his lips as he did. He nodded his approval. "Smart girl. Always an ulterior motive..."

No reply. She didn't know why he was there, so was waiting for him to spit it out. But why was he there? Curiosity? Guilt? Concern for a fellow warrior? Could be all... could be none. Obsidian eyes focused on the Kelvic, unconsciously appraising her bruises and the welts still fresh on her pale skin even as he spoke.

"Why did you join the army?" The obvious question, but a good enough place to start. "To prove yourself? I hear many Kelvics do that. They don't think they're accepted by us, so they think three years marching will cure than malady. Is that what you think, girl?"
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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War Is The Answer
 
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Waking pains.

Postby Alva on May 9th, 2013, 10:46 pm

Her head was beginning to ring with the onset of a headache, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm not most other Kelvics," Alva grunted. "What others like me might think will not always be the same as what I think. I joined your army so I might find what I want. We are driven by many things, us Kelvics, and some of those things are forceful. I joined to hopefully find a way to cure my own urges and I have not been disappointed. Proving myself worthy of a Myrian? That's just white meat on the side. What I want is darker, richer, than that."

She had to close her eyes for a moment and stop talking. Her head was hurting. Was this how others felt when they were bumped in the head and their minds and faces rattled? Were the lights too bright for them too, and were the words too loud?

She sighed as she opened her eyes again. The pain didn't really abate like she had hoped.

"I joined the army to find a Myrian that can prove themselves to me," she added, as if to clarify her point. The concept of bonding and having a bondmate was hard to explain, but she knew what it was in her chest. She didn't know if the male had heard of a Kelvic's need to bond. Probably, though, if he had heard of Kelvics and why some joined the army. "And why did you join, hmmm? Most Myrians are like their Tigers, fierce and proud and hungry for rains of blood in their hot lives. Are you like most Myrians as well?"
Alva
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Waking pains.

Postby Razkar on May 11th, 2013, 9:45 pm

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Razkar chuckled at the Kelvic's fire, but was sure to nod like a teacher proud to get the right answer from one of his students. She certainly wasn't lacking for determination, this Kelvic.

"White meat." He said with a raised eyebrow, examining his tanned skin for a brief moment before taking another contemplative puff from his pipe. "Never heard that one before..."

But then she had to stop and Razkar could see that what he'd done to her was still taking its toll. He felt a pang of remorse, but it passed quickly. For one, it was a necessary evil, and for another, he could have made it much worse for her. And as he watched her, the male could see more of that grit and resolve that he knew she would need, that was so relentlessly driving her...

Razkar grinned a little wider at her last question, delivered like it was a challenge, and nodded.

"Yes, I am." He said the words camly and proudly, and when she studied his face briefly to any trace of humor or sarcasm... there was none to be found. "The lack of professed individuality is strange to you? Understandable. Most of the barbarian races are like that... no offence meant. We place more value in unity, as the Goddess-Queen commands. One people, one race... one army. One sword for her to wield..."

He blinked and realized he was waxing a little more philosophical than he should be in this place, and for entirely the wrong audience. Razkar finished his bowl and tapped the ash into a bedpan, ignoring the sharp look from a passing healer. It was half-filled with stool and urine; how would a pinch of ash possibly make that worse?

"'Hungry for rains of blood in their hot lives'. Very poetic, Kelvic. You remind me of a female I know." His smile became a little warmer. "She has the same hunger in her, of a sort. It never occurred to you to see the wider world? Find other barbarians like yourself?" There was a brief glint in her eye and he held up a placating hand. "Don't mistake me, I'm not saying you shouldn't be here, but... well, Taloba is hardly welcoming to barbarian races."

It struck Razkar as he waited for an answer that he'd referred to her directly or otherwise as a barbarian three times in a short time. The Myrian mentally shrugged. Well, that's what she was; it wasn't her fault, just the way it was...
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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War Is The Answer
 
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Waking pains.

Postby Alva on May 16th, 2013, 12:50 am

Alva's lips only pulled back in her usual approximation of a smile. If anything, she smiled weird: drawing back her lips and curling them and displaying as many of her sharp teeth as possible. She smiled because for all of Razkar's fancy words about unity and a weapon for Myri, Alva still couldn't see the value in being just another part of the whole, like an colony of ants. It made sense, somewhat, when she compared the Myrian army to a colony of ants because both fought for the same things, but something like individuality must have been sacrificed for the unity they displayed.

"Like ants, then?" She voiced the comparison with interest. "One group of many, not many ones?" As if the concept of individuality could be expressed in such a way, that really was her question. If she had to adapt to become just one member of a whole as she currently understood, there was little value in the prospect to her. She liked being herself and was pretty sure that Myri, if they had ever met, might have approved of her for being herself as well. She understood the need for unity when it came to battle, but overall? No. She would not submit to it.

The fierce smile on her face only widened at the idea of going out and meeting other "barbarians" like her. "There are no other barbarians like me, just barbarians that act the same way I do. I want nothing to do with them. If I can not find what I want in Taloba then I will go to the villages. I leave the jungle for Myri only." She nodded at her own statement and resolve. She didn't act insulted by being referred to as a barbarian. After all, she was by race, if not by birth. She was born in Falyndar in one of those villages and had a whole name for the trouble.

"Why don't you leave the jungle and go find glory for Myri out there and add more skulls to that on your back? Then you can come back and impress me with all the stories of barbarians like me out there and I can ask if you killed any of them for me."
Alva
Harsher of the mellow.
 
Posts: 48
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Joined roleplay: January 20th, 2013, 3:49 am
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Waking pains.

Postby Razkar on May 16th, 2013, 1:24 am

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"Like ants, then? One group of many, not many ones?"

Razkar smiled again, eyes twinkling, warming to this witty if a little sarcastic female. She had a brain in her head, and they needed that in the army of Taloba. Fighters, brawlers and trackers were just the muscles on the bones; without sharp minds to lead them, they were nothing. He nodded and the, to her surprise, shook his head.

"Well, that's the theory, anyway. But you've seen how we fight. We work well in an ambush, a skirmish line, and we maneuver and follow orders almost lawlessly. But once battle has been joined, and steel has met steel..."

His smile grew wider as he remembered.

"Then we fight separately, and always have. War is religion to us, remember? Our goddess and our queen is the deity of war. We honor her in battle, and when you do one honor, ultimately, you do it alone. We march as one; but we fight as individuals." He snorted softly, smile becoming somewhat cynical. "We just have to remember to listen out or orders while we're indulging ourselves..."

"There are no other barbarians like me, just barbarians that act the same way I do. I want nothing to do with them. If I can not find what I want in Taloba then I will go to the villages. I leave the jungle for Myri only."

Razkar nodded his approval, impressed and somewhat surprised that a barbarian like her could take so well to the harsh environment of the Myrians. But he had heard that Kelvics bonded very strongly with people, and the societies they found themselves in. Perhaps that was the case?

He opened his mouth to ask when her next words came out, greeted with ar less approval.

"Why don't you leave the jungle and go find glory for Myri out there and add more skulls to that on your back? Then you can come back and impress me with all the stories of barbarians like me out there and I can ask if you killed any of them for me."

Razkar's smile did not exactly... fade. But it lost some of it's brightness. In her tone he saw some of the disdain and contempt he'd heard occasionally from the other barbarians he'd met, who assumed that all Myrians did was kill everything they came across and boast about it. He was silent for almost a chime, long enough for Alva to turn to him with a frown, seeing his own brow knitted together as if in...

Disappointment.

"All these years among us," he said with a sigh, tapping out the ash that now filled his pipe, shaking his head, "And you still don't understand us. A shame. I do not seek to impress anyone, female, save for Myri. Even then, impress is the wrong word. We honor her with the souls we take through war and battle, her holy provinces. We are the Children of the War Goddess... how best would we worship? But, no, you see the same as all others. Just savages."

Razkar stood and his eyes became colder. This one... she showed promise. He leaned down again and his words became firm with that authoritative tone she'd heard before, back in the Yard.

"And why would I leave the Jungle, female? There is plenty to kill right here, and you barbarians do insist on trespassing more and more these days."

He straightened, ignoring the little voice that was musing earnestly that the female had a point, in a way. Pilgrimage, it had been called, in the old days. When Myrians alone in in groups, even whole formations, had rampaged across the Old World to spread war and, thus, the glory of Myri. But those days were long past, and there was much to do in Falyndar before they could worry about the rest of Mizahar.

"It was... interesting, talking with you, female." He said, words almost unsure, and she guessed he did not speak casually to either his trainees or females very often. "I hope you heal swiftly."

With that he rose to his feet, bowed his respect to a female who had courage, and walked from the Infirmary without another word. Barbarians, he thought with a slight shake of his head, just when you think you understand them...
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
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Plotnotes
Medals: 9
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One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Waking pains.

Postby Traverse on June 18th, 2013, 2:58 am

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Razkar

Skill XP Earned
Intimidation 1 XP
Philosophy 2 XP
Rhetoric 3 XP
Socialization 2 XP


Lores Earned
Enjoying a Pipe With a New Recruit
Illustrating Myrians to a Barbarian
Alva: A Promising Recruit


Additional Comment :
It's nice to see Razkar as the wise ol' mentor, even if he's still barely an adult haha. Alva's sharp wit was a nice counter balance for Razkar to employ his philosophy and allow you to spin Myrian lore in the wonderfully apt way that you have. Short, but good for what there was!


Yes, I Bite.

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out. :)
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