Fancy Seeing You (Shiress)

[Razkar]

12th Day of Summer
The Great Bazaar
11th Bell

"So that's the bloody Myrian..."

Razkar was growing more and more attuned to the strange expressions these barbarians used. That one, for example, muttered by a fish-laden female as he passed on Mrrko, Myrian and gelding clip-clopping down the street. It started with a "so", but it was a statement of fact. He could hear no question at the end of it. There wasn't the telltale inflection or query in the last syllable.

More like a confirmation. Like they're... confirming a rumor.

Razkar snorted softly to himself and shook his head, mane of black hair now well past his shoulders. And, once again, not bunched up into a ponytail, but hanging loose and flowing. Barbarian life surely was growing on him... and he felt the blue coral piece Edreina had gifted him sway gently in his locks, tied there days before.

She was probably at work by now. The Rearing Stallion, apparently, as a serving wench, though Razkar couldn't help but scowl whenever he heard her described as such. Not that he came round often: a bell of him glaring at customers who got a little... cavalier with his friend when they got a few ales in them was enough for the management, apparently.

She would like today, too.

Horse and savage weaved through the steams of humans passing around the, bustling and flowing back and forth with varying degrees of urgency and agitation. Summer and the sweat that came with it had arrived in Syliras, bringing friends and family. Razkar was welcome for it, though: not nearly as humid as the jungle he was raised in, but Syna was finally warm and heated on his skin and there was no cold wind to glow her caress away.

His first purchases were sheathed on the side of his saddle, a queer addition to the kit of a lifelong warrior. Two training swords, wooden all the way through and scarred, pitted by years of use but still well-made and strong. A stall a few streets back sold a plethora of weapons, mostly swords and the Isurian running it hadn't even tried to haggle that much with the Myrian.

Not that Razkar was in the mood for that, anyway. He had places to be and stuck in the city arguing with some barbarian over a few gold coins was not one of them.

Bows... arrows... archery... anything...

His black eyes scanned back and forth, trying to find something, some sign or trace of what he was looking for, but the Great Bazaar was as bewildering as the jungle in many ways. There was seemingly no set or order to where the stalls were set up, or how, or even when.

Wait, that stall was selling fishing rods yesterday... wasn't it?

Frustrated and mumbling to himself in his own choppy, pugnacious language, Razkar slipped down from Mrrko and cast his gaze around. But when you looked like him, helpful strangers were hard to come by. He approached one or two and they avoided him like he was cursed or oozing pus. Part of him understood why.

Six foot of half-naked, tanned and scarred muscle. What wasn't scarred was mostly covered in ink, depicting patterns and runes and images from a green and violent place. Piercings jutted through his face and a plethora of blades were strewn about his chest and hips, bow on his saddle...

Yes. Of course they'd help you. Why the fuck not?

Ah-ha! Someone sitting down! No easy way to avoid him. Girding himself for shrieking or cowering or some other such barbarian nonsense - and why in the name of Myri were females here so much more fragile than those of his home? - Razkar strode over to her, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Pardon me," he said slowly, thinking it best to speak slowly and clearly, "Female know where is stall for bow and arrows?"

Receipt:Archer's Bracers: 2gm
Arrows, Standard (10): 1gm
Arrows, Armor-Piercing (10): 10gm
Gladius, Wooden: 10gm
Bastard Sword, Wooden: 7gm
TOTAL: 30gm

OOC:Alright, there's yer in! Take advantage of it how you please, and if you need me to change it, lemme know.

[Shiress]

Shiress plopped herself unceremoniously onto a bench close to an entrance way of the Bazaar. The breeze flowing in was a tinge cooler than that of the marketplace itself and after a long morning of shopping for necessities in the heat, the breeze felt good wafting through the girls hair, gently brushing it back to flow down the length of her back. Shiress pulled the trapped, ivory colored skirt from beneath her as she crossed her legs to slip the shoe from her foot to rub an aching heel. Walking back and forth, to and from tables around the market had taken a toll on the barmaids tiny feet.

The girl sighed and sat back, having decided that the rest and gentle breeze would accompany a chimes rest perfectly before heading back to Travelers Row. She settled her bag in her lap and began sifting through it's contents. Shortly, she pulled out a book, the purchase of it being one of the first of the morning's stops. She situated her bag by her side and began skimming through the first of it's pages, the hustle and bustle of shoppers slowly drifting away around her.

Several pages in, a tap on her shoulder sent her green eyes fleeting from her book to the face of it's maker. "Oh!" She squeaked, her body jerking slightly causing her to almost lose the grip of her book. "You startl..." Her words trailed off with an arch of a brow and slightly parted lips. Green eyes trailed along the many jewels adorning the man's face before tracing along, down and around the ink patterns drawn on the stranger's darkened bare skin.

She blinked and withdrew her eyes slowly, closing her book beneath a blank, mindless stare, her face still frozen in its taken aback expression. The first glance was an obvious trick of the eyes and the second glance would reveal a normal looking man, right? No, it wouldn't. Her second glance settled on the same pierced and tattooed, nearly naked stranger her first glance had revealed. At length, her lips closed and slid into a polite, though shaky, smile. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. You startled me." She said, rolling her eyes accordingly back down to her lap as she lifted her book. "I was reading and didn't see you walk up."

She stretched her arms out uncomfortably to replace the book back into her bag and with a deep breath, followed by the placement of stray hair from her face behind her ear, she was better composed and ready to address the holey and inked stranger. "Bows and arrows, huh?" She questioned, scanning around the nearest stalls. "Hmm, I did see those, I think." She stood, thinking hard with a furrowed brow. "I think it was up that way." Her arm lifted and a slim finger pointed in the direction of a mass of patrons hovering around several bigger stalls, further into the Bazaar. "Though, I can't be sure, I'M terrible about paying mind to whats around me." She admitted with a more comfortable smile creasing her pink lips. "So, don't be all mad at me if you lose your way in the masses."

[Razkar]

Well, at least she didn't scream.

Razkar cocked one dark eyebrow at her words, impressed at how her wide-eyed shock was quickly replaced by a... truly surprising ease. Not complete and certainly with an edge of suspicion to it, but the smile on her face did not smack of the plastered on forgeries he had seen before.

The Myrian nodded his thanks and noted her directions. Ah, well, that would make sense: he hadn't been down that street before. His lips creased slightly at her last words, a strange sound bubbling up from his throat.

After a moment she realized he'd just chuckled.

Now Razkar was smiling down at her, and that would have been attractive if not for the fact both rows of his teeth had been sharpened to points that could have ripped flesh open. The Myrian shook his head and shrugged.

"Barbarians. Always think Child of Myri want fight. Not always. Definite not with female." A pause, awkward and listless and despite himself and his appointment in the Bronze Woods, Razkar couldn't help but notice the book in the girl's lap. "Good scroll? Ah, no... book. Good book?"

[Shiress]

Shiress lowered her arm to her lap and smiled hesitantly at the man's chuckle, it seemed a bit forced and unnatural coming from a man such as the one before her. Looks can be deceiving though, in both good and bad ways. Life in Sunberth had introduced the girl to all manors of culture and race that passed through the blamed city, teaching her to look and not speak, to react, but only with disciplined tolerance, lest a beating would ensue. She learned it well.

Another blink ended with wide eyes and a raised brow, the man's smile was more than intimidating and least so, comforting. How does he mind his tongue between such dagger like teeth? Her curiosity shifted from his razor like teeth to the words coming out of them.

"Barbarian? No, I" She stammered, hastily coming to her feet again, holding her hand up defensively near the man's chest. "No, I didn't mean to imply any of the sort. I meant only for you to not be mad or irritated at me if the directions were wrong, is all. A figure of speech only, but perhaps I used it wrong." She smiled, glancing at her hand that was now very close to the stranger's scarred, inked chest and withdrew it carefully.

The girl traced his eyes down to the book she still held in her hand. A brilliant red spread immediately across her pale face. "Oh this." She said, curling the book into her chest as to hide the cover or more so the title. "It's nothing, very, very boring actually. Shouldn't have wasted my coin on it" She swept quickly around the bench, sliding the book into her bag as she lifted it.

As she turned, her blushed face faded to a pale white and her lips parted in a gasp. "Oh no!" She said in a shocked whisper and without thinking or remembering the man before her, her hand's wrapped around the man's waste and she curled herself into his chest, bringing the Myrian between her and the man she had just spotted. A very familiar face he had, a face known to the girl from a night spent drinking at The Coin. "Don't let him see me! God's that man...he'll kill me."

[Razkar]

"Oh, this It's nothing, very, very boring actually. Shouldn't have wasted my coin on it."

Gods, the female really can't lie for shit...

Although, Razkar reflected as she stashed her book away like a dirty little secret, it was more her reactions that her words that gave her away. Her face blushed red with embarrassment, jerking the book close to her chest to hide it from him and yet it was "oh, nothing".

"Yes." He said, words dripping with amusement even through his accent. "So clear to me is nothing. That why you face is red. Now-"

"Oh no!"

She lunged at him and instinct took over, the Myrian's hand jerking to his kukri just as-

-her hands wrapped around his waist and a bundle of hair was pressed to his chest, smooth and shining and warmed by the sun. Razkar's jaw actually dropped in shock, though he had the presence of mind to drop his left hand to his purse... but her own were too busy wrapped around his body.

Which was... not entirely, unpleasant, but then he looked down and saw the raw fear in her eyes.

"Don't let him see me! God's that man...he'll kill me."

They were, in a way, the magic words. The curious incredulity on the Myrian's face died, as did his smile, inch by inch. A cold, merciless focus entered his eyes and shouldered out all other concerns. His head twisted around to follow her own gaze, seeking out the figure she was so afraid of.

But first, he felt the need to establish some ground rules.

"Not let female be hurt, if not deserve." He said lowly, then looked down at her sharply, ruthless honesty in his eyes. "But if lie to Child of Myri, will be very, very bad for you."

He turned back around, gently moving the two of them behind a waiting Mrrko and out of sight from the man she was so concerned of. He scanned the crowd, trying to pick him out, find him-

-although, apparently, he'd already found them.

[Shiress]

It only took half a tick for Shiress to realize that her actions had brought the man's hand down to his sword. Just as quick as she had wrapped herself into the Myrian's body she had lept backwards from him. The tips of her fingers slid slowly from the man's side, her eyes fixating on the gripped sword hilt as her hands cautiously retreated off the man's body in a non threatening gesture. "N-no" She stammered. "I didn't mean..." Her words stopped as the Myrian glanced sharply over his shoulder then back at her with a more stern expression. His words that followed sent a chill down her spine.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but her mind was still attempting to form words that wouldn't be a complete lie when she was pulled aside. The stern look coming from this particular man's face was more than intimidating making her feel as if she had just thrust herself between a rock and a hard place. Green eyes shifted from the one in front of her to the one now glaring suspiciously and stepping toward the pair then back again to the Myrian. The girl didn't know what to do.

Shiress could not process words fast enough and after several failed, stuttering attempts to offer the Myrian an explanation, her hesitations had allowed the glaring man to step up behind her and slide a menacing hand up her back to lock his thick fingers around the unseen hair at the nape of her neck, rendering her head immovable and possibly unnoticeable for the Myrian.

The man stood towering over the the pair, his thick arms and shoulders showing muscles cut and defined by his labor. Greying dark hair peaked from the rim of his leather head wrap. His face, sun darkened and bestubbled, feigned a pleasant expression. He leaned slightly in, obviously not wanting to rouse attention in the busy market place and spoke with a low voice. "This little lady." He began, pulling Shiress backwards. "Owes me a drink and my time at The Herald's arm." "I don't!" Detested Shiress, but as she spoke the man tightened his grip around her hair, quieting her. "See here." The man said, pointing to a fresh, thick scar above his brow, his voice growing more stern. "The whore gave me this, stole my coin and I intend on collecting my debt." The girls green eyes slid to the Myrian's, a look of pleading coming from them as they filled with tears.
I don't! She said voicelessly, moving her lips, hoping that the Myrian was smart enough to know a lie when he heard one.

[Razkar]

The human was big, broad and had a fresh red line across his forehead that Razkar knew very well. His hand slid out of view and then Razkar saw a glimmer of fear on the female's face, the tightening of her skin around her hairline...

"This little lady. Owes me a drink and my time at The Herald's arm."

"I don't!"

Razkar's face was a stony mask as he watched the man show him the scar on his head, heard the girl's frantic, squealed denials. The sight of a female being manhandled with such sneering pleasure tightened his muscles and he felt the Malediction-coated runes on his necklace and weapons snarl into life... but Razkar did not move. Not yet.

Rushing into battle without thought or plan is suicide, and rarely gain victory. Watch and learn...

"The whore gave me this, stole my coin and I intend on collecting my debt..."

"How much is debt?"

The human looked up from the girl, sick smile on his face wavering just a tad. He wasn't that old, Razkar realized. He didn't have that bitterness that age often lent a man, that years-old meanness and indifference. He saw instead the wounded pride and sparking anger of youth, and he recognized it derailed by sudden confusion.

"What?"

"How much mizas did girl take?"

"Look, I don't know who-"

Razkar's hand vanished and reappeared glowing like a conjurers, and it took the human a moment to realize the glowing was actually a handful of mizas. Five of them in fact. Gold ones.

"I think this be enough, yes?"

He could see the barbarian mulling it over, avaricious eyes sharp as a hawk's as they fluttered down to the coins. Passing citizens frowned and muttered at the strange scene: the lumbering human and the girl that seemed oddly close to him being proposed by... was that a Myrian?

How odd.

"She took more-"

"I not think so." Razkar said, keeping his voice level with some effort. Part of him was disgusted right now, having to barter and parlay with this barbarian oaf where he could just slice him apart. But he was in Syliras, place of barbarian civilization (and yes, he was aware of the paradox), and he had to be more... subtle. "You said took drink from you. Wasted time. Made scar. In that case..."

His hand vanished back into his purse and doubled the amount of gold in his hand.

"Ten gold. That enough."

"Look, just stay out of this."

"No."

And the air turned arctic between them. Whoever this human was, he was used to his size and scowl gaining him almost as much as his muscles... but the Myrian across from him just threw it back in his face with calm, black eyes that gave nothing to him.

"Say that again, Myrian."

"I said... 'no'." Razkar said slowly, then closed his fist around the short stack of mizas. "Male does not harm female like you are, like you want. So, I make deal. No blood, not violent. Take money, debt is paid, let female go."

A handful of Sylirians had noticed what was unfolding, and in that compassionate spirit of humans the multiverse over, they took action in the best way they knew: by standing around at a safe distance and watching while gossiping. The air heated up; the human's gaze started to crackle but he still kept his grip on the girl's hair.

Wide, plaintive eyes begged him silently, and Razkar wished he knew better when people were lying to him. This big male could, just could, be a pure victim: seduced, tricked, robbed and scarred by some amoral female. He knew that, and thus he knew he could be making a great mistake.

But he couldn't walk away, and a quarter-century of upbringing in the jungle made his gorge rise at the sight of a female being abused.

Fucking moron, you should have stayed in the jungle.

"Or what?"

Ah. The old classic. Razkar was so happy that the witty banter and chest-beating he had heard about among barbarian was still alive, well and flavorful. So happy, in fact that he actually smiled.

Sort of.

"If not solve with gold, solve other ways. It would go badly for you."

The human's smirk wavered for just a moment. He was far from a genius, but he had that animal instincts that alerted him to danger, and felt no bravado or empty threat emanating off this shorter, thinner individual with dark skin, pitch eyes and flesh etched with scars and ink.

It was a statement, not a threat. Razkar shrugged, tightening his fist around the mizas and feeling his gnosis begin to purr into life, expectant and hungry as always.

"You choice, male..."

[Shiress]

The man's fingers loosening and tightening their grip on Shiress' hair was evident of his growing temptation and then frustration of the Myrian's offer. She had hoped the man would have taken the first offer of gold coins and when he detested and followed up with a lie, her heart sunk and began to pound relentlessly in her chest. The man's greed could keep this going on and on.

As the Myrian's hand reappeared with double the bounty the man's fingers loosened enough for Shiress to think she would be released and the offer accepted. Hope was kindled for the girl, but was doused quickly as his fingers dug into her yet again with a final protest from the man and a declaration of standing ground from the Myrian. The man's weight shifted and a cold silence ensued.

"Say that again, Myrian."

The man leaned slightly forward, sure he had misunderstood the bold Myrian, one arm slipping under his cloak and up to the small of his back where he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of a dagger and slid it silently from it's sheath and rested it by his side still hidden beneath his cloak and he challenged again before another frigid silence filled the space between the two men. At length, the man's weight shifted again with a new demeanor. The ox of a man pulled back hard on Shiress' hair and lowered his mouth to her ear as his blade slipped up her back. "I'll collect on you later. Mind the shadows."

Shiress could feel the tip of the blade against her blouse and as the man spoke he pressed it harder into her. Cold steel pierced through the fabric at her back and sunk into the surface of her skin. Shiress drew in a sharp breath and tried to pull herself free, but the beast twisted her hair around his fist as he sheathed his dagger.

"Here, take the bitch and keep your coin. I need neither." He glared hard at the Myrian before shoving Shiress toward him. His gaze lingered on the black eyes before falling to the girl with a disgusted smirk. He flung his cape out beside him and stepped away proudly, looking about and shaking his head.

[Razkar]

"Say that again, Myrian."

Razkar did. Things went downhill after that.

"I'll collect on you later. Mind the shadows."

The Myrian inhaled sharply at the bold, cruel threat, and that was exactly what it was. Razkar was a sellsword, true, a mercenary that sold his blade to the highest bidder and had used it mortally dozens of times... but having to stand by while this brute tormented and sneered at a girl half his size...

He felt his hands twitch. His gnosis went from a purr to a snarl in his blood, Malediction-crafted necklace whispering red words into his ear... and the idiot human kept at it.

Razkar's eyes widened visibly when he saw her squirm and gasp, one of the big human male's hands hidden from view. The Myrian wasn't stupid, even if everyone else passing them or watching were: that was more than just the look of a firm grip on her face. He'd seen the faces of those... pierced. Stabbed. Jabbed or slashed. It was the surprise, the shock of cold metal on your flesh, so much more sudden and alien and frightening than an iron grip or slap.

He's armed. He has a weapon, and he is using it. On an unarmed female.

"Here, take the bitch and keep your coin. I need neither."

Razkar sidestepped smoothly and put out one arm, catching the stumbling female and steadying her. The human stepped back and his feet made to turn, ego obviously swelled enough to-

"Fucking coward."

-then he stopped, and the smile died, inch by inch.

"... what did you ca-"

"I call you 'fucking coward'." Razkar spat out again, words ground out with sheer and awesome disdain. The human turned to see his nose curled up, like he smelled rotting meat, eyes narrowed and contemptuous. "You deaf as well as fucking coward, hmm? Threaten female-" he glanced downward quickly to her back and saw the telltale dot of red on her blouse, teeth grinding hard. "-put knife on female."

Razkar actually raised his voice, upping the ante and herding this bastard's ego where he wanted it to go.

"I think girl laugh when she see human's cock. Decide charge him more, since he can't-"

The human roared and Razkar's soul exulted. Finally.

Want to know the secret to street-fighting, kiddies? It's simple: don't hesitate. Warriors, brawlers, fighters, scrappers, soldiers, heroes and bastards, whatever name you give them, they all have one thing in common, at the least. They don't hesitate when the situation has spiraled down to violence. When the minds of others would still be whirring away, trying to reason out the subject, thinking about consequences, the damage they'll be doing, trouble they'll be getting into...

In that sacred, sick moment before bottles shatter and knuckles meat flesh, they're already moving. They understand what needs to be done, and to the hells with everything else.

So when the human's hand slashed out and upwards with his dagger, aiming to slice Razkar's chest, the Myrian was already moving-

-the crowd gasping, even shrieking behind him as he stepped back away from the slice, left arm shooting up to block with his forearm-

-right hand tucked tight to his side and exploding out, still wrapped around that little cylinder of mizas-

-smashing a fist into the human's jaw.

Another tip, dear readers: if you have to deck someone, and a knuckleduster isn't handy, get a roll of quarters. Try it sometime; compare and contrast.

You'll be amazed.

The crowd was like the breath of the world, a hive mind sighing and wincing and groaning at the same time as the big male's head snapped back, the crunch of battered bone and smashed flesh cracking around the street. He went back against a wall, hard, but big ox was tough, snarling at the approaching Myrian-

No skill in this beast; no talent. Just a bully with a blade...

He cried out and stabbed at Razkar's stomach, only for the Myrian to twist and sidestep away to his left-

-left arm swinging out stiffly to slam his forearm into the human's nose-

-right knee jerking up to his his wrist-

-right elbow swinging out as he twisted, smashing into the big human's temple.

That worked much better. The human was staggering now, bleeding and disoriented, grip on his dagger weak, trembling, but one eye still working, bloodshot and glaring, crazed with pain and humiliation-

"Not only coward," he heard in that broken, guttural, gloating accent, "Weak, too."

The human roared and dove forwards, slashing madly in all directions, but the Myrian swayed or danced aside each time, until the human stabbed down from above as the savage bastard got his back to a wall, nowhere left to run-

-only for tanned arms to snap upwards, gripping around his knife hand's wrist, stopping him dead-

-at the same time his knee smashed so hard into the human's crotch he actually left the pavement.

The man's eyes popped open as he doubled over, sinking to the ground, vomit already coating the back of his throat. The crowd winced en masse again but were already moving away; nothing more to see here. Razkar gently took the dagger from the male's unresistant fingers, leaning close.

"Could have done that when we start." He said simply, gripping the back of the mans head firmly as he slid to his right. "But you needed lesson. So... have lesson. And not go near female again."

He let the male go, allowed him to finally slump to the cold cobbles and into blissful, painless oblivion. Razkar returned to the female, and was pleased to see she was still there; a miracle in itself. Ignoring her stunned expression, he smiled politely and held up the dagger, then flipped it over with a practiced movement, so he was offering it to her, handle first.

"He does not need dagger now. You want?"

[Shiress]

"No, Please just let him go, don't say..."

Whispered pleas fell on deaf ears as Shiress pulled at Razkar's shoulder in an attempt to calm the man down. His arm flexed and jerked with anger and Shiress tightened her grip, but her effort was futile. Razkar lunged forward causing Shiress' fingernails to etch crimson paths across his inked skin and the two men met in a haze of fury.

Stepping back, Shiress leaned her back against a wall covering a gasp with her hand. She didn't mean for this to happen. The poor Myrian man had only asked her chimes earlier where the bows and arrows were and now he's fighting because of her. Shiress was on the verge of panic, she wanted to run and had there been a clear path she very well may have.

The area around her became strangely and suddenly quiet. She lowered her hands from her face as green eyes trailed up the sparsely clothed and inked body of Razkar, flinching slightly as a flick of steel came from his hand.

"He does not need dagger now. You want?"

Her eyes lowered to the dagger and she slowly lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers awkwardly around the hilt. Her lips slightly parted with a soft gasp and she swayed. "No. No, I don't want it." She said, quickly pulling her hand away again with an expression of one in a painful memory. Her eyes lingered a chime on the dagger before she lifted her face and offered the Myrian a feigned half smile. "You keep it. You've earned it."

Shiress felt suddenly dizzy and taken by the day's events and the wound on her back stung and burned fiercely. She wanted to sit, she actually needed to sit but she knew the knights would soon push their way through the masses and she needed not to see their faces...again. "Come on." She said bending down and scooping up her bag. "The knights will soon come and I for one don't need to be here when they do. Is that your horse?" She nodded her head toward a black stallion shifting its weight and flipping its tail contently as she slung her bag around her shoulders. "I can explain myself, but not here."


SorryI apologize for the crappy post