Home from Home (Open); Summer 30, 510AV

by **Tiren** on July 5th, 2010, 8:43 am

OOC: Greetings, all. My first post, and it's an open thread -- feel free to leap in anywhere. If any mods/Storytellers/etc wish to take Hieral on as an NPC, please feel free to contact me. He's quite amorphous in my head, save for the fact he killed his and Tiren's father and is a fairly ruthless individual overall, but I have no particular desire to play him as a PC myself at any point, so if anyone feels inclined, let me know and we'll work something out. (And apologies if I shouldn't say things like that -- I am somewhat new, so please just let me know quietly and I'll remember for next time. :]) Aside from that, as I said, completely open thread. If you feel inclined to hop in at any point, please do. I -- and Tiren -- welcome all comers.

30th day of Summer, 510 AV; morning

It had been a long time since Tiren had seen Endrykas. The city had moved probably a dozen or more times in the interim; people had come and gone and returned once again; horses and Drykas alike had shuffled onto the mortal coil and off the other end; and yet nothing had really changed. When it came right down to it, for all its ever-shifting nature, Endrykas was fundamentally still the same.

The Stormrunner Pavilion, however, was not; and Tiren wasn't particularly looking forward to encounters with other Drykas. This was the first time the Pavilion had been back to Endrykas since his brother had-- since his father had been...

Murdered, he thought coldly. No two ways about it, and no point in being hopelessly euphemistic. Hieral had killed their father and taken up position as the Stormrunners' new Ankal, and the Pavilion was tainted now. That had been just under a year ago, at the end of last summer, and Hieral had kept the family away from Endrykas in the meantime while things were sorted out. And by 'sorted out', Tiren knew, he meant 'until he could be sure that at least his own Pavilion would stand by him'. Warriors had been promised greater rewards for their loyalty; close family members had been persuaded (not all that hard, when one realised Hieral had killed his own parents to get what he wanted); and Tiren... had kept out of it, as much as he could. Maybe the whole Pavilion wasn't completely corrupt, but he'd seen precious little evidence of that over the past few seasons.

Still, here they were now. The Pavilion had set up on the edge of the city -- just another sign of Hieral's distancing himself from tradition, Tiren thought. When their father had been alive, the Stormrunners had been a respected Diamond Clan pavilion, having produced several great warriors and a few renowned Stormwardens over the past few generations, and had set up much closer to the city proper when they came to Endrykas. Now... the fact that they were out on the edge of the city was just one more little proof of how different they were. Tiren didn't know where they stood any more. He strongly suspected that for all his bluster, Hieral wasn't sure of how they would be received, either.

He didn't intend to wait with the Pavilion to find out, though. He had slipped out quietly, taking his beloved Strider, Azurai, with him, and with Sirocco, the last tie he had to his father, trotting at his heels, his ears pricked up and tail wagging gently. In all of the turmoil of the last year, Azurai had always understood, and Sirocco, still more of a snow-white bundle of energy than a true wardog at two years old, had done his best to keep his master cheerful. Their efforts were working more than usual today. Today, Tiren intended to break free of his brother.

It might not be easy, of course; and he wasn't entirely sure of how other Pavilions would react to him -- even once they found out that he had had no part in Hieral's betrayal, or indeed that he wished to avenge their father and restore the honour of their Pavilion some day. Maybe that was as bad as killing the old Ankal in the first place. He had no particular frame of reference for this sort of thing, and the resulting confusion had done nothing for his moods for the past few seasons.

Nevertheless, today was a good day, a warm and sunny day without a wisp of bad weather -- not even a harsh hot wind -- and Tiren was determined to be positive. He had Azurai and Sirocco at his side as he meandered through Endrykas, enjoying the sights and sounds of the great tent-city quietly. Perhaps someone would recognise him as a Stormrunner; for all he knew, someone might recognise him for himself -- it was hardly as if he and his family had never been here before, after all. Or perhaps someone might recognise him as the brother of Hieral the betrayer. Which could be... bad, unless he could turn the probable confrontation to his own advantage.

Not to worry, he told himself. Not yet. Wait and see. Despite the fairly early hour, the city was already coming to life, and Tiren was glad to be away from his own Pavilion and around other Drykas for a change. He waved a cheerful good morning to a few folks, without hostile incident -- That's almost promising, he thought wryly; Azurai whinnied softly, as if he had been thinking the same thing -- and headed towards the trade quarter. Maybe he could pick up a few bits and pieces from one of the traders there, and at least it was a likely place to find conversational company.

by **Kayiri** on July 6th, 2010, 5:14 pm

"The Longsword, who can tell me what it is?" Kayiri asked, on a bale of hay, looked out amongst his student with a grin. He loved little kids, so much fun to be around.

One of the children raised his hand, speaking when Kayiri's met with his. "A weapon, sir, a tool of warfare amongst our people," the child recited. Almost perfect, Kayiri thought.

"Yes, but why are we here learning how to use it instead of picking it up and using it when we finally decide to fight for someone?" Kayiri grabbed the wooden sword on his right, rising to his feet. "We're learning because when you don't know how to use it, this weapon is just as dangerous to ourselves and our friends as it is to our enemies. We're learning so that we know how to use it without killing someone we care about. Do you all understand?" Kayiri then rambled philosophically. He was met with a universal response: "Yes, sir."

"Good, now get into your sparring pairs. I'll be coming around to inspect your form," Kayiri commanded, sitting back down on his hay bale as the children scurried around to collect their weapons and find their partners. He laughed slightly. Children were just too adorable. Who know, maybe someday he would be lucky enough to have a few of his own.

They finally got into their pairs and began. Kayiri watched them all for a minute before doing what he always did, taking the wooden longsword with him, he gave a hack or a stab at random through the groups, watching the children adjust in an attempt to counter the random outside weapon coming in on them.

"No no no, Geralt," Kayiri said, dropping onto one knee, placing his hand casually on the child's shoulder. "Your left foot is too far forward, it weakens your whole defensive stance, making you off balance and easy to push over. See?" He gave the child a half-hearted push, sending him backwards one or two steps. "That's all it takes to get hit in a fight. Put your foot back, brace it against the ground," he patted the child on the shoulder before setting off to the next group.

A chuckle escaped Kayiri's lips as one of the children tried a pirouette. "Hera, what's the one thing you always have to do when you pirouette? Always always always, lest you keep yourself exposed?" Kayiri asked, squatting to get at eye-level with the child. She looked blank at first, so Kayiri helped her along, rising to his feet and performing a pirouette, bringing the sword back over his head and along his back to protect his rear, similar to what he had done when he was fighting for this job.

"Block?" the child asked curiously, tilting her head and scrunching up her nose. Kayiri gave a thumbs up, and went all the way through with his pirouette, ending in a one-handed slash across a would-be opponent's midsection. "Always remember the slash, too. Keep your opponent confused, on guard. Hardly anyone expects you to come out of a pirouette and launch an offensive," he said in that mentorly way. He nodded proudly as she demonstrated it as properly as she could on her first try, and set off.

"All right, children, gather round," he commanded, sitting back on his hay bale.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, tilting his head so his ear faced them in a gesture asking them all to respond. "To learn how to defend our homes without hurting the ones we care about," they all recited in unison. Kayiri nodded, gave a grin, and motioned with his hand for them to head on out.

"That's enough for today, kids. Go on home, I'll see you all tomorrow. Safe Travels, and may the Winds be at your back," with that, he grabbed his stuff and left, looking at the sun in an attempt to gauge the time.

Bah, he had an hour or two to blow before he had to report to the Stables. Best to spend it shopping around, he thought. The Pavilion needed some more arrows, he would buy some and deliver them to his father before reporting to the Stables.

Endrykas had been quiet in his eyes, lately. Everyone he had known had packed up and left in a flash, leaving him with next to nothing to do. Oddly enough, all of their disappearances coincided with Vanator's wedding and sudden disappearance. Odd, he would have to ask Vanator what happened when he finally returned from.... Wherever the hell he had gone.

Kayiri stretched his arms above his head idly as he navigated the busy... well, I guess they aren't streets... paths of Endrykas. Ah, there it was, the fletcher's shop. He strode purposefully to it, but saw someone out of the corner of his eye.

He stopped, craning his head and eventually turning his body to follow the stranger's movements. He was about an inch shorter than him, and slightly less broad in the shoulders. He remembered having heard of someone of his description, but he couldn't place his name on where he had heard of him or what his importance was. Kayiri's brows scrunched into a line as he thought, and soon enough he was following the guy, his curiosity overtaking him.

After about a minute, Kayiri caught up to the man, and in a voice that was as casual as if he was asking what was for dinner, asked, "Do I know you? You seem familiar."

by **Tiren** on July 6th, 2010, 7:10 pm

Endrykas was quiet today. So quiet, in fact, that Tiren was utterly lost in thought as he wandered around the pathways in the trade quarter, meandering idly from one tent to another. He paused occasionally to look at some piece of merchandise or another, chatting briefly to various tradesmen on his way. So far, nobody had been particularly hostile, which he thought was promising.

He left Azurai waiting patiently just off the path, out of the way of passers-by; Sirocco could stay with him, but it was a little inconvenient -- as much for the horse as himself -- to have his Strider wandering by his side. Azurai seemed to understand, as ever, and whinnied softly as Tiren patted him farewell fondly and slipped back out into the ... well. One could hardly say 'crowds', but there might be enough people about to manage 'groups'. Back into the trade area proper, at least.

He had come up a few minutes' walk from the fletcher's tent, and was vaguely cutting a pathway towards it, intending to at least stick his head through the tent-flap and say hello. He'd acquired twenty very nice arrows from there the last time he had been in Endrykas, and managed to keep every one since, albeit with the occasional repair by one of his own Pavilion elders. The least he could do would be poke his nose in to say 'hello' and 'thank you for the most excellent merchandise', and even a brief conversation would be better than wandering around aimlessly.

The plan was interrupted somewhat by the casual interjection from a stranger who came up beside him without Tiren noticing his approach. Pay attention, he told himself, vaguely self-mocking. It was a favourite refrain of the older clansmen who were still training him to hunt and fight properly.

The stranger was slightly taller, only an inch or so, and Tiren looked up to him evenly, daring a slight hint of a friendly smile. He had sounded, to Tiren's ears, more curious than hostile, and he certainly didn't want to start a confrontation where one wasn't necessary. It was one thing to be on his guard, given his circumstances; quite another to be unnecessarily paranoid.

"I'm not sure we've met," he replied lightly. "Perhaps, on some occasion we've both been in Endrykas in the past, our paths have crossed, but I must admit I don't remember your name, if they have. I'm Tiren Stormrunner. Diamond clan."

There. He'd said it. Without changing his posture or expression at all, he mentally braced for the backlash. Just how infamous was his name? Of course people would have heard of Hieral's actions, but Tiren had no idea whether -- or to what extent -- he might have been implicated in the atrocities himself. Maybe not at all. Maybe there would be some sympathy for the poor long-suffering brother; or maybe the stories were running more to the line that Tiren and Hieral had planned it together...

Still, without actually talking to people, he would never know. This conversation would be worthwhile for that alone. Besides, the guy seemed pleasant enough, from the few words he'd said so far. Tiren shot him a sidelong grin, slowing his pace to indicate he was happy to walk together and chat a while.

by **Vadim** on July 7th, 2010, 2:55 am

"-YOU- an Ankal? Don't make me you laugh you runty dolt!" A crisp bellow escaped from the ever expanding diaphragm of Coldair Ironfoot, heir to Asim Ironfoot, Ankal of the pavillion. His brutish taint expelled from a vile breath and his pisswater colored eyes which were probably too small for his massive head stared down the barrels of his crooked nose, and all at once he fired a snarling jeer to Vadim, which exposed his rotting teeth and lolling brown tongue. The words provoked startling response from Vadim who shielded his nose at the very instant the rancid odor assuaged his every sense.

"And here I thought the evidence was clear. Perhaps if you hadn't beaten my horse into submission before our circuit your fat ass would not have cr--" The notion withered into fine dust upon a violent spinning of colors which all faded to black. A thud and the scattering of grey dust marked the temporary rest of Vadim. Above him stood the violently heaving Coldair, a clenched vigorous fist smattered in blood shook over its prize and released into a palm. There stood not a noble rider, but a savage beast of the wilds whose prideful menace had cut short the truth.

"Your memory is marred you muddy blooded man. Rest on your story and perhaps sense will return. If not I've mind to end your pathetic life." Coldair snickered and spat into the hair of Vadim, lolling his eyes and turning from his victory. As he lumbered across the grass, many followed in his stead for he had claim to power, and attracted the greedy hearts of other men. Vadim had no posse, for he was weak, and only Fetig, young as he was nudged concerningly at his masters unmoving body. It whined a shrill pitch into Vadim's ear and when no answer it came it curled itself near Vadim as it was the only instruction it had known.

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"You bring much dishonor to us by tempting the Ankal's son." Dimeter scolded as she swabbed at a nasty swelling on the upper left cheekbone of Vadim's face.

"And I would continue to do so."

"And gain nothing except to bring harm to our family. The Ankal has paid us many respects by allowing us into his Pavillion. We are not Drykas, you have no entitlement to any position of authority. It is an honor to be given work as a rider!"

"I spit on the demeaning tasks they feed me! While poorly skilled men take my rightful place, I shovel the turds their equally disgraced horses leave. Were they not so discriminatory and prideful I'd be a damned counselman!"

His words brought pain because Dimeter stabbed angrily at his wound with stinging ointment, and though she did not speak her reddened features told her shame. Vadim cast his gaze away in fear and looked to the grass below.

He knew the truth. His father was the one who'd kept him back. Not only had Valdred stolen a sacred beast from the Ironfoot Pavillion, he'd dishonored a precious woman but leaving her to fend for herself during pregnancy. Without influence of proper male role model Vadim was seen as an unfit man held at the loose grace of Ankal Asim.

"I am going to give you money and a horse now, and you will leave for the gathering of the pavillions to collect food. We are low and you need to focus on other things." Dimeter said quietly as she reached a sack for a few Mizas.

Vadim, accepting graciously, responded. "I will do this, Mother. Forgive me for my shame."

To this Dimeter did not not respond, but instead shooed her son away and returned to the dishes she had previously been cleaning-- ironically enough being dishes served to Coldair and their men, who in their voracious appetite filled there plate with many rancid foods and cast them down to the woman in contempt. Coldair knew to strike where it hurt.

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There was a sudden conflicting opposition as Vadim wandered aimlessly about. His nose crunched into the back of a man quite taller than he and he recoiled somewhat in deluded anger. His frustration clouded his vision from recognizing the white tone of the Diamond clan and he drew back aggressively, stomping his foot towards Tiren.

"Hail, white rider! What business do you have standing in the way of other's who've more pressing business?" Vadim seethed, his gleaming eyes cocked upwards towards Tiren and Kayiri, and he sought to displace the embedded anger.

by **Kayiri** on July 7th, 2010, 1:02 pm

"A-ha. That would explain where I heard your description from!" Kayiri exclaimed with a laugh and a grin, setting a pace equal to that of the man next to him.

"Kayiri of the Starweaver Pavilion. Also Diamond clan. Just a heads up, your brother, Hieral, he's running around spouting about how you should be burned for murdering your father. I don't believe a word that two faced ass says, but you may want to watch yourself amongst the other Drykas. You never know what's around the corner," Kayiri informed him warily, making eye contact to make sure that Tiren understood just how serious he was.

"So, Tiren, what brings you back to Endrykas? Just answering that call to come back home, or is it family business with that cursed brother of yours? If it's the latter and it involves bringing justice to that bastard, let me know that you have me as an ally. Someone needs to put that back-stabbing fatricidal ass in his place, and I'll be glad to help in doing so," Kayiri then declared with that infectious grin he bore. He held an aura of certainty and confidence around him, one that he hadn't held since he had fought back the Zith exactly two seasons ago.

Kayiri's back arched forward a bit as he felt someone crash into him, and it wasn't long before he turned around to see who exactly it was.

"What is your pressing business, exactly? It can't be so pressing that you can go around the people who actually want to have a decent stroll and a conversation," Kayiri shot back, his eyes shooting darts into the man. Kayiri was as friendly as they come, but he hated, absolutely hated, when people addressed him with a rude tone before he even knew their name or they his. He felt that, at the very least, common decency and courtesy should be followed before one begins an angry rant.

The man behind him was a decent margin shorter than him, although his face looked ever so slightly more mature, placing him at twenty four or twenty five years. Kayiri bore no ill will towards short people, but if this person continued with their attitude, he might just start.

by **Tiren** on July 7th, 2010, 1:46 pm

Tiren had been in the middle of formulating a response when the interruption came. He got as far as, "Hieral brought the Pavilion here for supplies, and probably gossip. And apparently to implicate me, if what you say is--"

He had no reason to think Kayiri was being anything less than truthful (it was exactly the low sort of trick Hieral would pull, come to think of it), and in fact had been planning to finish his sentence with genuine gratitude for the heads-up and offer of assistance, but he got no further before Kayiri about-faced to glare at the man who had crashed into him and interrupted their conversation.

The interloper was a little shorter than them both, and looked distinctly annoyed -- and 'annoyed', Tiren thought, might be putting it mildly. Although he was more than a little irritated by the interruption, he couldn't help being vaguely amused by the man's reaction. Stomping a foot? Really? He looked about Tiren's own age, but surely that was a rather childish response.

"Indeed," he commented mildly, adding to Kayiri's rebuttal of the man. "It's a free pathway, and we were hardly taking up the entire road." Thank mercy that he had left Azurai safely waiting elsewhere, or he might not have had the right to say that. Sirocco was no particular bother, padding patiently along by Tiren's heels, though he had looked up when they stopped so suddenly, and was presently eyeing up the newcomer with something very close to doggy suspicion. "There's plenty of room to go around, for those who aren't in such a rush as to completely lose all sight of their surroundings. And plenty of time in the day to at least apologise for running headlong into my good companion, here."

by **Vadim** on July 7th, 2010, 6:55 pm

"Oh can't it be, now! And I gather that no business supersedes two men, quite high on their horse, lolling around merrily and making presumptuous statements of others business!" Vadim seethed. White foamy spittle erupted from his clambering jaws and fired upon the grass below, within inches of a withdrawn Fetig that jarred slightly at the rising crescendo of his tone. An assuage of the man's pride was intolerable, and he made this clear, his fingers curling tightly into balls into the whites of his knuckles, became exposed over the contrasting black hues of his riding gloves. There was no fear in his eyes, only that distinctive shrinking pupil which held the fiery emotion of not only this situation, but of other painful memories expelled into the matched gaze of Kayiri and challenged it.

"You both make the grave mistake of requesting information not privy to and not receiving the hint. Get out of the damned way!" Where there was room to circumvent Vadim did not move, but rather he strode ever closer to the crevice cast between his two barriers until he was at such a distance that only by cranking their necks to a sharp degree would they be able to make out the mop of his hair which glimmered lightly in the noon sun. This was a jarring moment for the man, who deeply had wished that his biting words would latch onto nervation and spark a fire between the two. That they were content to spill rhetoric on his prideful ears tainted him and he wanted no more of it.

The crowd clustered to this, though moving as it was people had a mind to avert there heads to the change of placid tone, and within their beady eyes gleamed a savage need for conflict to erupt into these plains so that their feverish boredom was sated. Men and women alike snickered under their breath and soon the ebb and flow of the crowd eddied around the three like a tranquil river passing lightly over a standing stone, rigid and unmoving. Merchants as well did not bellow the attractiveness of their wares and they had stepped from the shade of their tent for a moment, pretending to be interested in other things than the curious men.

Naturally heads inclined towards the aggressor Vadim, whose loud words snagged the ears of anybody not paying attention, and it seemed, to the average citizen that he demanded control of the situation. How queer it must have been in the eyes of others to note the very same colored garments conflicting.

by **Kayiri** on July 8th, 2010, 11:44 pm

Secret :

"Listen, you have two options right now, sir," Kayiri said coldly, his eyes shooting daggers into the man. "You can either apologize to me and my friend here and continue on your merry way, doing something as simple as curbing around us, or you can continue to throw masked profanities and insults at us until I decide to lose my normally cool composure and become considerably less peaceful. I didn't get these scars from weaving nice little shirts. Now apologize, or leave," Kayiri then finished, his glare never fading, his voice never losing the icy cold edge. He hadn't moved at all, but in that instant, the sword strapped across his back seemed to be ever more threatening.

His entire pose seemed to suggest that he knew how to use the sword with a deadly proficiency. However, in his mind, Kayiri was reluctant to fight with the man. What would happen to the Diamond clan's honor if three of their proud and strong warriors were seen brawling on the streets? Still, what would happen to his family's honor if he let this man leave without an apology? This and more pressed on Kayiri's mind as he continued to glare down the man.

by **Tiren** on July 9th, 2010, 6:31 pm

OOC: Like Kayiri, I must apologise for the (lack of) length of this post.

Tiren nodded resolutely, showing solidarity with Kayiri's words. Nevertheless, he too was reluctant to draw a weapon in the middle of Endrykas. The last thing he needed right now was to antagonise someone directly. Still, this stranger was apparently having a good go at antagonising them both, and Tiren wasn't about to just let it slide without a comment or two of his own.

"I quite agree," he said, his tone quiet and dangerous despite his private misgivings. "Your options are clear, sir." He stepped aside a little to illustrate the point, giving Vadim plenty of room to move around them if he wished. "Make your choice."

by **Vadim** on July 9th, 2010, 7:21 pm

Secret :

Their's was now a ripple that lapsed violently against the tepid waters of the pavillion. All who were trapped in its diameter became aware of the tension which wriggled free from the confines of civil dispute and expunged the gnawing anticipation of the Drykas. Even wise men knew, looking from their wrinkled brows, that this balling pride clenched so tightly and resolution would not soothe over the deafening call of Vadim. He stood exposed in the noon light for many moments, an isolated being whose life was counted by powerful heaves of his chest and escaped as rapid exhalation on the ground. It was so loud that the distortion was in uncanny likeness to a profound creature and even stirred the white fox beneath his feet. His decision was made before needless words fell from Kayiri and Tiren's lips.

"There is no decision here, and you both know this. You move me not with words and you yourselves do not move. Our prides conflict." The analytical scrutiny with which Vadim spoke was a cold calculation that no more kindness spilled from than when he had cried out to them in great fury. Now, as he stepped back from the two and examined them with malicious intent he seemed to be setting the stage for something much more sinister than he had intended. In this uncontrollable spiral the dark clouds of the crowd had gathered around them and stilled so that no traffic moved around them. Even in the daytime a shade seemed to curve unnaturally their way and bathed them in a reverse spotlight in order to darken the features of the man.

"Stand forth one of you and if you truly be men one alone shall defend your honor as I defend mine!" The stinging crack of Vadim's voice extended forth to both of them, and in his great swiftness he extended the tip of his javelin in provocative gesture which he had drawn quite strongly and without the faintest of restrictions. He had only this to add before falling to resolute silence.

"Know that I am no Drykas, and as a man I am not bound to the same code of honor as you. I feign not to those who gather themselves superior."