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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Razkar on September 15th, 2013, 1:05 am

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41st Day of Fall
West Street
12th Bell


It began small, which is the way of most things. A trembling in the ground that only the most sensitive could make out (or those under it, of course). Not the insistent shaking of cavalry or charging feet; more the steady, building rumbles of dozens, hundreds of wagons and pack mules.

Then the sound began to waft down into the city proper from Mirahil Pass, Zeltiva's high-flanked gateway to the continent. Street vendors and pedestrians frowned and turned as they went about their business, hearing the neighing from scores of equine throats, and the faint but building squeak of wagon wheels... then the calls, barks and bawled orders from far more evolved throats.

The smell, next, once the procession had began to plod past the University. A herd of unwashed, tired animals that had been riding all morning... and not just those on four legs. Over a hundred humans (and other) accompanied or guarded the caravan as it began to stream into Zeltiva with the speed of lava, and about the breadth.

Pristine and proper West Street was soon inundated with the sight of it, which caused the most commotion. Two-dozen wagons, loaded high with goods from Taldera, Cyphrus, Eyktol and Syliras began grinding down the cobblestones, braying oxen pulling them onwards. Behind them came strings of mules, sturdy and calm-faced but bears burdens twice their size. A pair of carriages followed, and the fine ladies or well-to-do gentlemen of Zeltiva muttered to themselves at whom could be carried within, beyond the velvet curtains.

Providing them avoiding the muck, of course. One overlooked fact of caravans: the only thing they produce more than revenue, is manure.

"About bloody time..."

Zephron Karla flicked his half-smoke cigarillo halfway across the street with one adept, well-practiced movement, confident it would be crushed to nothing within a few chimes. Years before he'd been a strapping young man who'd been able to lift hundredweight sacks of flour, barley and grain like they were mere baubles. But ten years in the more "managerial" side of the business had sapped his fine physique, if not his height. Six-and-a-half-feet tall and now bearing less hard angles and more doughy rolls, his face was clean-shaven and still somewhat angular, shrewd and glittering blue eyes shining below and thinning crown of dark hair.

The sign above him read "Karla & Valini Trading". Twelve years prior, it had read "Robensturm Imports And Exports". Nine years before, once Ol' Roben had understood that the big, brawny Zeph had more brains as he did muscle (which was a lot) than his own sons, he'd taken the lad under his wing, taught him the myriad of tricks and rules of the merchant, and it had read "Robensturm & Karla Goods".

A few years later the old man passed, and his name was removed, leaving Karla alone on the title... until Leo Valini had found him, through his many subtle waves, and seen opportunity with the enterprising man, no longer young but still keen to expand... and expand into the west of the continent.

A deal was struck, arrangements made, contracts signed, capital invested... and Karla got a partner. Today, that partnership was about to pay fabulous dividends. But still-

"Three days, Albrecht!" He shouted up in that cultured tone that still betrayed hints of the East Street accent he'd shed over a decade ago. The caravan master in the lead wagon grinned, or Karla thought so; his beard twitched in a telling manner. "I've already had cancellations, and the threat of more!"

"We're here now, aren't we?"

"Late! You are here late!"

"The world is unsure and unsafe, my friend." Albrecht said, a glimmer of read sadness in his eyes. He jumped down from his perch and the wagon driver wheeled the laden wagon into the wide, broad yard Karla's property possessed. "Yukmen waylaid us, among other incidents. We lost a slew of sellswords-"

Karla grimaced but left it at that. Sellswords were a dime a dozen, and no-one mourned their passing... but he understood. Hated it, but understood. The budding merchant prince sighed quickly and offered Albrecht a cigarillo, his traditional greeting to the old man.

"Well... get your people inside, I suppose, and-"

His speech stopped as a steadily-riding figure hoved into view, revealed as Albrecht's wagon vanished. Mounted on a black and silent steed, the rider seemed... cloaked in nightmares. At least to the civilized folk of Zeltiva. Tattoos depicting death and struggle and runes beyond ken or description covered his mostly-bare torso... outweighed, perhaps, only by the scars that marked him as one who had warred and brawled most of his life.

He and his horse were silent, but his wares were not. Metal clanked against his chest, ax and gladius, kukri strapped to his chest, others that the humans could not see... and swirling around his shoulders in the sunny noon wind was a patchwork cloak that looked like... hair and dried flesh.

"What... is that... a Myrian?"

"Aye." Albrecht said airily, so much that Karla's gaze jerked to him in shock. "Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, leader of the sellsword company Valini had escorting us. Now, I know he looks a little rough-"

"He has bones through his face-!"

"Not so loud! He's... touchy about that sort of thing."

"I never thought Leo would stoop to hiring-"

"-a savage?"

Words stilled, at least among the two humans... because the last two came from above. From the softly-smiling lips of that much-whispered savage, leaning against his bridle with his head cocked to one side, tattoo on his forehead looking more malevolent than the black, gleaming eyes he fixed them with.

Karla swallowed. Albrecht just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Don't you call us all 'barbarians', Mister Razkar?"

The Myrian shrugged and smiled lopsidedly, a familiar gesture to them all the more bizarre coming from one who looked like he could barely understand language. As Razkar paused, another pair of riders appeared, flanking him: a dark-haired woman with a bow across her chest, dress marking her as a Drykas... and another with short but flaming strands done up in a tight braid, curled and evil-looking whip on one hip, straight and shining wakizashi on the other.

"Good point." He turned to Moretta first. "Have the men watch this entrance and then spread out to others. No-one but the merchant's workers come in. We did not escort this load across half the Wilds to have some thief pilfer from it when we arrive." The half-Drykas nodded and spurred her horse away, already snapping orders to the sellswords riding on either side of the arriving caravan. "Apprentice? Stay with me for now. When Moretta is done... check her work. Make sure she did not petch up, hmm?"

The red-haired woman just nodded, mute and stone-faced, leaving Razkar to turn back to the slowly-recovering Karla, smile spreading over his face.

"Mister Karla and I still have business..."

The Valini Expedition had arrived, and Razkar was owed his coin.
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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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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Edreina on September 17th, 2013, 5:04 am

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For the past two days, Edreina had been taunted ceaselessly by the scent of salty water carried on a wayward breeze. After so long, her nose was keen for such a scent, able to pick it out from the salty sweat to which she had grown accustomed. The sensation would pass so quickly that she would nearly always brush it off as a figment of her imagination, just so that she was able to fight the urge to spur Jorven into his flying gallop and search for that instinctive pull that told her she was close, ever so close, to the ocean. Not the Suvan, but an entirely new body of water, wild. whipping in the wind and waiting... waiting ever so patiently.

On the morning of the 41st of Fall, a change had occurred in the caravan's air. Everyone seemed more excited to do their job and do it quickly. The caravan was packed and readied in record-demolishing time, allowing the train of tromping creatures to leave as Syna rose from her bed, stretching and yawning, bathing the already-moving procession with enough heat and light to brush away the autumn morning's chill.

Their journey was slow, to Edreina, seeming to her as if they never drew closer to the ocean, never drew closer to any sort of end to this journey. And yet, they were; she could feel a quickly approaching finale in her marrow. The trip passed more quickly as she was constantly kept busy, riding this way or that to ensure that Razkar's orders were being carried out. The caravan would enter the city looking as professional as the motley band could manage.

Finally, there was a wedge in the mountains as they rounded a great bend in the path. The caravan strode forward, everyone waiting, watching with anticipation as Syna rose over a peak and revealed that yes, that green stuff covering the rocks was, in fact, grass. Not moss as they had become accustomed to whilst traveling through the daunting peaks, but true grass.

It bent and padded their steps, tempting the animals that had been surviving on dried hay and oats for the past few days with succulent tips gilded by the morning's last vestiges of moisture. The caravan halted for an instant as everyone struggled to maintain control of their beast, many curses and groans echoed off of the stone, creating a ruckus most foul as it fell upon Edreina's ears.

But, perhaps, that was simply because she was listening for a different sound... straining for it. When finally they continued onward, into the pass and up the hill that would finally reveal Zeltiva, Edreina realized rather quickly that she was moving more quickly than the caravan, but she did not stop until she was at the very front of it. From there, it was only a few agonizing chimes until-

The smell of it hit her first, carried by a breeze unhindered by the mountains around them. It smelled of salt and moisture, of Edreina's life up until this season. In the scent alone Edreina felt herself being revitalized, recharged.

A few more steps, and finally they came to the peak of the rise. And Edreina stopped. Body, mind, even breath, she paused. The world around her seemed to fade to black except for that bare expanse of cerulean painting the horizon. Even from where she sat, Edreina could see that it was alive, was in motion. Its dance beckoned to her, its song on the wind was ever so faint, but it was there. How long had it been since she had heard even a whisper of water? Seen even a sliver of shore? And now, it lay before her like a buffet before a glutton. Every nerve ending in her body sang alive and free, urging her forward. But, she only leaned slightly in her saddle, fighting herself.

Still, there was work to be done-

Later! The Ocean is but a few ticks away!

And how would it look? Galloping off after waves and whimsy? You are supposed to be a sellsword.


With discipline born of the cutting edge of Razkar's reprimanding glare, Edreina shook herself, realizing that half of the caravan had passed while she sat in a daze. With a tap of her heels far more gentle than she longed to deliver, Jorven set off at a pace far slower than he wished. Something about his master's enthusiasm had become infectious, spreading into the air so that it seeped into his very being as well. At her command, he obeyed instantly, prancing forward at a quickstep before Edreina reined him in once again.

The journey into the city was utterly meaningless to the Svefral; twas just another stretch of land betwixt she and her beloved water. Between buildings, over walls and past upturned faces lay the outer ocean. Its sapphire beauty was something she had only heard stories of... Was it true that it continued on to eternity? To the Ukalas? Her heart skipped a beat as she realized once again that as soon as business was done, she would be free to run and fling herself into its embrace. It was the Father Ocean, the ancestral home of her people before the God War. There was a pull upon her spirit that grew closer with each step Jorven took towards the endless expanse of water and life.

Finally, the caravan stopped and Edreina realized that she had lost track of her mentor. Allowing Jorven to trot, she made her way up the caravan until she caught sight of his rather unique silhouette. Abruptly, another horse and rider pulled into her path from between two wagons, causing Edreina to pull up on the reins roughly to keep from colliding with the rider-

Petching Boobless...

As Jorven voiced his displeasure at such treatment, the half-Drykas shot a look of smug superiority over her shoulder. The woman was, once again, trying to prove herself to be a more fit apprentice - or companion... - for Razkar by showing up the Svefra. With a growl, Edreina caught up to the other woman just in time for them to reach Razkar at the same time. The impish redhead fought the urge to stick out her tongue at the dark-haired archer.

After such a mentally and physically taxing journey, Edreina was surprised by her vigor, if only for a tick. Being near the Ocean had a greater impact on her than she had ever realized. Compared to that moment, the Svefra had appeared sallow, grave, lacking life and luster. Now? Her hair and eyes glittered in the light and her freckled cheeks were painted by a pleasant shade of pink.

"Apprentice? Stay with me for now. When Moretta is done... check her work. Make sure she did not petch up, hmm?"

Snapped once again from her wandering thoughts, Edreina had to fight the urge to smile, to grin, to beam at her lover as she was tasked above the damned dirty half-Drykas. Who we will be blissfully rid of the moment this caravan falls apart.

The moment that Moretta returned, nodding stiffly at Edreina with a stony jaw, the Svefra repeated Boobless's course, double-checking her work. She was pleased, however, to see that though they were all jovial and on the brink of rambunctious, every sellsword was doing their duty, as was every caravan hand. The end of a journey seemed to be sitting well with everyone. When she returned to the start of her rounds, it appeared to her as if the business between Razkar and the other fellow had reached an end. Upon return, the other trader smiled at Edreina, seeming almost relaxed in her presence compared to Razkars.

"Ah, the apprentice. Now that you're back, I was just explaining to Mister Razkar," the term sounded foreign on his tongue when paired with her partner's name, "that some hands from the stable have come to take your animals so that you will not be burdened by them tonight." He motioned to the teenagers who already had their hands filled with reins.

"They are trustworthy?" Edreina asked automatically. Before the journey, she would have went along with the plan without question. However, her eyes were now squinting at the ways of man... far better than how nearly-shut they had been before.

The recipient of the caravan nodded. "Trust them with my own horse. But, take any belongings you do not want shelved with you." What the petch did shelved mean? Shrugging, the Svefra dismounted a bit stiffly and led Jorven over to one of the handlers, choosing a young lad that appeared to be less burdened than the rest.

"Take your horse, ma'am?" He asked, smiling politely. Deep down, he was surprised that such a kind looking woman would travel with sellswords. For a tick, he even doubted that she wa- No... The metal in her hip and her spoke of a warrior, or at least one in training. She still smiled, so she must not be too far in her training.

"Aye," The Svefra returned, halting her silver gelding. "But first I must gather my things." The groom nodded as if such was expected and stood waiting while Edreina quickly removed a rucksack from the bottom of her saddlebag, filling it with her cloak, and the set of - mostly, for there was only so much you could do to keep the smell off - clean clothes she had saved for the end of the journey. These were untarnished by sweat of either horse or human and most of the dirt that went along with being on the trail. Finally, she shoved in two of the books she had decided to take from one who fell to the Yukmen, then belted her whip and wakazashi.

That only left Navis... The creature looked up at her from his nest in her saddlebag with glittering brown eyes. Much as she loved the kit, she did not want to have to carry him around with her. Pulling him from the saddlebag and setting him upon the saddle. An idea struck her.

After a brief exchange with the groom, it was decided that Navis would be allowed to stay at the stables as well so long as he helped with their mouse problem. A fit task for an odd creature. With all that done, there were only two things left to matter to Edreina. Razkar and the Ocean.

Despite the constant call of the other, Razkar was closer and it was to the Myrian that she first made her way. Upon reaching him, she laid a hand upon his forearm, pleading with eyes as blue as the ocean she wished to visit. "Please... Water..." She spoke in his harsh tongue, betraying the depth of her wanting. He was an essential part of her life, now, so having him along on her first trip would make the Ocean all the more wonderful, all the more special, all the more memorable.

That was, at least, until Boobless cleared her throat behind Edreina, setting her hackles on edge. The Svefra had to fight the urge to whirl on the woman and knock her to the ground. The caravan's mission was done, over, complete. Why the petch did she still feel the need to bother them? But, of course, the answer lay in the brown skinned warrior that Edreina was unable to claim in public...
Last edited by Edreina on September 24th, 2013, 4:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Razkar on September 19th, 2013, 2:14 am

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"Well, things have calmed down now, pretty much, but..." Karla paused as he puffed on the end of a fresh cigarillo, tip and flame smoking and pulsing with each breath "... there's still a few of those petching Denvali looking for a fight. Honestly, fuck knows what they think they're going to..."

She is here. Within the confines of this city. Perhaps within a league of the spot you stand on. She as going to the University... did she see you come? What if she did? Maybe she din't recognize you.

"... but on the whole, everything here was locked up tight, and some... problem-solvers, that Valini recommended were very useful in keeping the rabble out of my bloody warehouse. Just glad it's over, get back to business..."

What are you going to say? How will you start? "Greetings, Aya, remember me? Oh, and here's my barbarian lover." Or perhaps more subtle? "Aya, you'll never believe it, I was strolling alone, tripped over and found myself inside a Svefra-

"... once they've gotten paid, believe me, you're best of just letting them be."

Albrecht chuckled around the stem of his pipe and blew out a billow that rose into the still air of the warehouse yard, a whirlwind of movement around the two traders, Moretta, Edreina and the silent, distant-eyed Razkar.

"I guaran-bloody-tee you, not a penny, not a copper, not a miza we pay 'em today will leave this city. Whores, ale, cards, dice, creature comforts and the best food their grubby hands can get hold of... that'll be it. Well, maybe some of the older ones'll send some back. Speaking of which..."

You should go alone. It will be too much. For Edreina, for Aya... perhaps for you. This is your misjudgment to handle and correct. You need to see her, speak to her... and she'll be at-

"... Razkar? Myrian, you bloody there or what?"

The Myrian warrior went from a place of internal doubt, questions, whispers in the confines of his own skull, to a very much more real world of questions and curious eyes all leveled at him. His mind worked fast... he'd been asked a question...

"... what was that?"

Albrecht and Karla exchanged a glance and the bearded caravan master shrugged lightly, face twitching in a way Razkar was growing familiar with. It was the barbarian's silent way of saying "give him some leeway, he's... y'know". The Myrian rolled his eyes and drummed an impatient little tattoo on the hilt of his gladius.

"Something about going back to Syliras, I think?"

"Yes." Karla said, filling his lungs and Razkar steeled himself for some kind of speech. Gods, his arse was too fucking sore to sit through that. "Valini has told me to pay you for your work on the caravan. Forty-one days, seven gold a day, and you've earned every copper, from what I've heard-"

"I will get that today?"

"Yes, along with everyone else, but my question-"

"Is will I be in charge of sellswords going back to Syliras?"

"It will be for nearly three times as many mizas," Karla coaxed, voice dropping smoothly, effortlessly into that tone he'd used to wheedle many a bargain from a difficult meeting, "Enough money for you to-"

"My answer is 'no'."

The world within their little communion stalled for a few ticks. The wagons, horses, mules, crates, workmen, servants, they all hustled and groused and brayed around them, but the three still figures were silent. Another glance was exchanged, but Karla found no fresh words in Albrecht's mouth.

The caravan master was old and ragged, but he was far from a fool. He'd listened; he'd learned. He knew the Myrian had made his mind up.

"I... We... were hoping you-"

"'We' being 'Leo Valini', yes?"

"Yes. He is my partner and recommended you for-"

"Still 'no'."

"-the position can I please finish?!"

Karla's face flushed and he suddenly towered over the Myrian by a full half-foot, broader, too, stacks of muscles from his youth turned to fat but still adding to an imposing figure. Albrecht's pipe was swiftly removed from his mouth, but the Myrian...

He looked up. He blinked. His tattoo stopped... and Karla looked down to see that was because his fingers were now wrapped around the hilt.

"Not. Shout. At. Me. Please."

Karla stepped back.

"... you are making a mistake?"

"That is how you see. I want my pay. Two-hundred and eight-seven miza. That is all the gold for forty-one days, and I am sure you have it right there-"

He pointed with his chin to the purse swaying from the merchant's belt, fastened there by thick leather and emboldened with clasps and knots to confound any pickpocket.

"Razkar," Albrecht said softly, trying a different tack and the Myrian turned to him with something akin to disappointment. His mistake; apparently he hadn't learned. "I'd feel better with you leading the lads on the return leg. C'mon, that kind of money, whatever problem you have with Valini, surely it can be overlooked?"

Whatever dram of warmth and politeness Razkar carried with him died in the following tick. A cold, dispassionate mask fell over his face and his eyes reflected naught but the two suddenly-nervous humans.

"Not surely. Not just problem. It was insult, Albrecht... and I only came to get here. Zeltiva. My... accord, with Valini is over." His eyes softened some minute amount; a slither of ice from a glacier. "But I thank for your words, and your kindness over the days."

When they swung back to Karla, however...

"My gold. All of it. Now."

Karla didn't argue. Technically, he knew he couldn't: Razkar had been fairly contracted to do a job, and he had done it. Not a wagon was missing nor crate smashed; the sellsword contingent was missing one in four of its men, but... well, see his previous opinion. "Easily-replaced resources" and he would leave it at that.

Gold chinked over and over as he painstakingly counted out every precious miza. Razkar's eyes did not leave it, wary of barbarian trickery. Once coin two-eight-six clinked merrily against two-eight-seven, the bag he'd been pouring them into was sealed up and the fist-sized package handed over like it was ridden with disease

Razkar took it anyway. He fastened it to his weapon harness, where the weight of it would always press against his side and only then did he notice the two figures ambling towards him. One tall, one shorter, both familiar... and a broad, honest smile greeted both of them.

"Leaving us, are we?" Sebastian said, his young partner still sporting a bandage around his head. "Greener pastures and all that?"

The Myrian shrugged, but it was a light-hearted gesture, happy to be away from the cold minds of the merchants and among the muck of (hired) soldiery, looking past them to the stone walls and thatched roofs of Zeltiva.

"Big world out there. Maybe we just want to see it."

"Hmm..."

Sebastian's sharp eyes went from Svefra to Myrian and he winked, quick as lightning, so much that Manny was sure it was just a twitch. Then again, he was still seeing the odd vision from that bloody head wound, so what of it?

"Well... we'll probably see you around, I think."

"Seb, don't-"

But the human was already stepping forward, voice lowered to the depths of illicit conspiracy. "Mongrel's Mansion. End of East Street. Tell Big Samson on the door that Seb and Manny told you it was worth a look." That wink again, brimming with mischief gleamed from long, hard and well-lived years. "Like I say... might see you."

"Oh, gods..."

Manny hid his eyes behind his hand and remembered with a wince the last time they'd frequented that... charming establishment. Chairs were broken and bottles shattered, quarrels struck and the Wave Guard set a new record in out-of-town sellsword arrests. Still... not a bad night, but his left buttock still ached in the mornings.

"We'll see..."

They wandered on and only then did he feel the slight pressure on his arm, the whispered, almost-choked words in his own language.

"Please... Water..."

He turned to his apprentice and found aching, desperate desire in her wide blue eyes... but not for him. Razkar grimaced, but only to crush the smile his expression would otherwise have been. Ah, how tortured she'd been the last few days. He'd scented the thick, salty flavor in the air at the same time she did, and noticed how she seemed to spur herself on and then pull herself back on the road...

So eager to get back to the big blue. Back to her Father.

Master put his hand on his apprentice's shoulder, tried to squeeze as much compassion into his eyes as he could, for his voice would carry the same stern tone it always did with her, and gods would he be grateful for that fucking charade to soon be over with.

"Wait."

But lo, a new arrival! Razkar rolled his eyes and started to think he'd never be free of this damned yard! Moretta stood before them both, as cool and confident as ever, pride and composure that Razkar appreciated and Edreina silently growled at. He cocked an eyebrow at her cleared throat and nodded.

"Something to say? More farewell for us?"

"Ever been to Zeltiva before?"

"No, we have not."

Moretta looked furtively to her sides and stepped closer, almost a carbon copy of Sebastian's own actions. Razkar wondered just how notorious the dives and taverns of Zeltiva really were if they were best discussed in hushed, secretive tones.

"Well... if you're interested... there's a place at the end of East Street-"

"Mongrel Mansion?"

The half-Drykas' confusion lasted only a moment, then her eyes glittered with memories of fevered nights and brutal hangovers... and all the fun in between. She nodded, lips splitting to show those dazzling white teeth, even daring to clap her commander on the shoulder.

"I'll see you there?"

"Looks like that may be. But we have something to do first."

Moretta frowned as Razkar turned away, his "apprentice" pausing only to give her an extra-strength glare before following suit. "What's that?"

Two guttural, incomprehensible syllables were barked from that savage throat in an alien tongue. The scout frowned but saw Edreina almost explode with joy, face awash with light, almost hopping from one foot to the other like she was desperate for a pee-

-and the damned Myrian was still walking!

"Wait! What does that mean?!"

She heard the Myrian laugh as he rounded the corner, walk becoming a run as Edreina finally shed her collected, subservient role and began running for the bay. She turned the word over and over (she assumed it was a word), but couldn't fathom it.

Razkar could. So could Edreina.

Water.

Wages+287GM
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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
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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Edreina on September 20th, 2013, 5:50 am

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At the sight of her rival, Edreina fought and lost to the urge to growl as the bones around her neck throbbed dully. For some reason, she felt less threatened by the woman here than she had on the trail. Was it maybe because the realm of her father was so close, or that in a few bells, she would be claiming Razkar however possible. Silly woman needed to get the picture. With defiant eyes leveled at the bothersome half-Drykas, Edreina stepped closer to the Myrian's side.

When she stepped closer, it was not as Sebastian had done. As a woman, Edreina was faintly aware of the energy that rolled off of her rival in waves. Besides... That was the oldest trick in the book. Regardless of the looks she would get, the Svefra snorted through her nose and rolled her eyes. Petching amateur... Rolled eyes snapped back into an icy glare as the woman dared to put her hand on Razkar.

Should break her fingers... That thought was not entirely the redhead's... but it still made her smile. A tick after Razkar had turned, Edreina finished her glare and turned so that she could follow him, nose raised ever so slightly as if Moretta was just a heap of dung in the street.

With a band of mercenaries still in sight, bounding around like a child given a sweet may not have been the best idea. But, upon the confirmation that she would soon be back in her element, there was no containing Edreina's joy. The rounded a corner and, having it back in sight, the Svefra felt all of her anticipation spring forth as she, quite literally, sprung forth into a sprint at full tilt.

The world warped around the Svefra as she became an entity created solely for the purpose of returning to the Sea. The sights of a new, exciting city could be explored later; the people could expose their eccentricities at a different date. All that mattered was the dancing, singing blue that awaited her with arms spread wide open.

When her feet fell upon the dock, she had the moment of detachment needed to drop her rucksack and let her weapons fall from her waist, the shoes from her feet. The end of the dock was near, so near! Only a few more steps and-

The Svefra attempted to fly only for a moment before deciding that she was made to swim, and swim she did. Her body slipped into the water with the barest splash, as if it had been waiting to catch her. After so long upon the land, her body felt light; after so long walking and move, each stroke was graceful and as fluid as the water in which she was immersed, reminding her of how she was supposed to move. For countless chimes, it appeared as if Edreina had taken off and would never return.

But, finally, the Svefra had to come up for air. Even then, she did not stop swimming. Being in the Sea was not enough; she had to become a part of it again. Slowly, she started to take down the barriers that she held in place naturally so that her Oceanus would not overwhelm her.

When finally her unused muscles grew tired, she stopped and waded in place, not even bothering to face the shore... Only the horizon where there was Sea as far as she could see. Her mind slowly became aware of small schools of fish, flickering and glinting like liquid metal beneath the waves not to far from her. Next came the larger fish, swimming ever so slowly in the open water. There were jellyfish, rays, eels, sharks, and even a pod of dolphins on the edge of her "vision".

Whole, she felt... Utterly complete.

Except for one thing.

The Svefra turned in the water, able to make out Razkar's form - but not his expression - from where she swam. As her heart filled with the Sea, it emptied of the security and comfort she took in his presence. It was an oddly jarring experience for the Svefra. She should be so calm, so happy, so free out here. And yet, just as the water had drawn her in, Razkar was now drawing her back to the shore by simply existing. After so long at his side, it pained her that he could not be out there with her, experiencing the beauty of Laviku's realm. It almost-

No...

It almost dulled the beauty...

For what was beauty if you had no one to share it with but a warm emotion in your chest? To see a familiar light in someone's eyes as you were both struck by the magnificence of a moment was... There were no words.

Her body was soaked to contentment - the abrasive quality of the water did wonder's for the filthy Svefra - but her heart was only half full. Is that the state in which she would have to live if she continued on with Razkar?

With a groan, Edreina started to paddle slowly back towards the docks, motions monotonous enough to let her think as she swam.

With Razkar, there was life for her. So many possibilities lay open, so many adventures yet to be had. With him, she could almost forget about Laviku's realm, if only for a moment. Out here? There was only Laviku and for the millionth time in her life, Edreina felt lonely out here. But, this time, she understood the reason. Her exploration was limited to how far she could swim in one breath, her interaction limited to how long she could keep a pod of creatures entertained.

With a gentle start, Edreina realized that while the salty water still held her solace, it no longer held her life. She could sail the entire Suvan, but would only be able to see a handful of biomes, meet a handful of people. On land, she would be able to scale mountains and cross plains, to meet people of every race, size, and culture. And, though it made her stomach turn oddly, Edreina felt glad that Razkar had come to the Flotilla, had shown her another way of living.

Her body was limpid as she pulled herself onto the dock, stretching out on her back in Syna's warmth to dry off a bit. The mein of the Svefra that returned was not that of the one that had left. This one appeared as if she returned from a long pilgrimage and was torn by the results of her findings, which she was. The Outer Ocean was supposed to be sacred and special to her, the birthplace of her people... And yet she could not look out onto its endless horizon without thinking how dreary such a voyage would be without her brown-skinned lover.

The realization that she was suddenly dependent upon the life and being of another human did not sit well with the spirited Svefra. So much so this itched at her that part of her wanted to take off into the water and never return so that such a feeling would have no sway in her life. And yet, she could not. She was anchored to Razkar in a way she had thought to be impossible. Love, it seemed, was deeper and more varied - perhaps even more treacherous - than the Suvan itself. Its waves could destroy a person and then rebuild them in a single cycle, could give someone cause to lead a nation to war with another, to pit one god against its kin... Love was, in a word, terrifying.

But, in more words, it was peace, comfort, companionship, pride, joy, excitement... the list ran on.

With a sigh, the Svefra sat up on the dock and looked out onto the horizon, silent, brooding. The air of it did not fit her features, nor her bearing. With a groan of distaste, she threw off the reflection and rose to her feet. Her need for the Ocean's comforting waters had been sated, and now her lips felt parched as she considered the liberating and relaxing aid of yet another liquid. "I think," she started to say, but paused, chewing on her lower lip. In a few hasty motions, she removed her dirtied pants and replaced them with clean ones. Smiling in a way that betrayed her mental weariness to her lover, Edreina continued with her hands at her braid, contemplating undoing it as well. "I think that I could really use a drink... Shall we?" Her hand motioned out a signal for him to lead her before reaching down to sling her rucksack over her shoulder.

Somehow, because of her feelings for him, the guise of master and student suddenly became just a touch less daunting to the Svefra. It was for his sake; it was for her sake; it was for the sake of either of them being able to last just a few days more in this wicked world...
Last edited by Edreina on September 24th, 2013, 4:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Razkar on September 21st, 2013, 2:54 am

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His lungs ached not when they reached the end of the wharf, frantic though their run through the crowded city had been, but when he saw her take flight... yeah... that took his breath away.

"Fish or gull... does she even know?"

He murmured to himself, slowing down and marveling at her form, legs pressed together, arms wide like wings then bought sharply together with a clap just before-

-there wasn't even a real splash. The Myrian didn't even know the word for it, the surface of the Outer Ocean just seemed to... swallow her. He flinched as he came to a stop, peering down and seeing her pale, blurry outline growing smaller, darker... vanishing.

Swallowed. Too good an analogy. The Suvan was big, and there was beasts there that could swallow ships. But this... is even bigger...

Chimes passed. Enough for Razkar to go from standing to sitting... then fiddling with his pipe, putting it between his lips and chewing on the end, wondering, finally throwing it down and starting to strip off-

-as an eruption of red hair exploded from the surface maybe a hundred feet away, raining droplets around her like the water itself was applauding the return of Edreina Whitewave.

Razkar of the Shorn Skulls smiled, then lit his pipe. The bowl was already packed, a nice chunk of Taloba Grey nestling inside it, the Myrian starving himself of the sweet burn of that brand as a special treat for his arrival in civilization.

He smiled around the stem as he breathed deep... pungent, spicy flavor dancing and permeating his tongue... racing down his throat, loosening limbs and muscles, nearly making his eyes roll...

Memories fluttered like moths around a torch. The Training Yards. His clan. His home. Aya. Sweet, smart, beautiful Aya... but when his thoughts turned to red hair and freckles and that damn rat she toted around... all else became dwarfed... and the smile became a grin...

Razkar chuckled and the smoke rolled from his lips like mist over a hill. Thick tendrils of it teased and danced around his eyes then spun every upwards, finally dissipating, becoming one with whatever air there was. The male wondered idly if it stayed there, in wisps, tiny little fragments that bounced along the breeze forever... then his eyes focused anew and found the Svefra waving at him.

His heart tightened and he felt a pain he did not wish abated. He'd bought them here, bought her here... and for what? To have some climactic showdown? What end was he intending upon? Scorning one to ride off with another? Would he be so cruel?

The Myrian hung his head and wished he had the wisdom to fathom this problem. All of his your devising, he mentally muttered with a cynical grunt, with not a jot of blame to them.

Razkar watched her swim slowly back, absorbing every salt-laden tingle that she had missed so badly from long days without the scent of salt or the call of gulls beckoning her to her Father. Or Grand-Father, he wondered with a slight frown, since the Outer Oceans were the original home of the Svefra. The Suvan Sea was their home, and Laviku was... no... he was always there for them. Whether Suvan or Outer, he was there, vast and terribly beautiful as a hurricane or a tsunami.

He shook his head, cawing gulls and calling seamen dragging him back to unpleasant reality. A vision in freckles and strips of wet cloth flopped beside him like a boned fish and he chuckled down at her, daring to lean over and kiss her softly-

-like summer lightning. Like the finest silk. A thousand memories in the merest touch of lips... Razkar felt the grip around his chest cavity tighten another knot, and rested his forehead to hers...

Can you replace one love with another? Does the older fade and the newer replace it? Can such a feeling be so... ruthless? Or is one a shade and the other true? And if so... how do you know?

"I think..."

"Yes?"

"I think that I could really use a drink... Shall we?"

Razkar laughed throatily and kissed her again, snatching a deep taste of her before he rose. Always she was able to drag his thoughts out of darkness, often without even intending to. She... loved him. That was what you did to one you loved; the effect you had on them. So many times she had empowered the male, in ways that Ayatah had never-

Another notch. But that time he bit it back. Self-hatred and loathing would benefit him nothing. The Myrian's grimace twisted into a smile and he hauled himself upright, simple carved pipe between his lips as he puffed contentedly, leaving a merry little chain of smoke puffs in his wake as they walked.

"You know... I have never seen you drink too much." He shrugged and winked at the Svefra, feeling the liberation of their charade abandoned. That had been necessary for their travels with the caravan, but now? "As good a night as any, I think..."

They walked, deeper and deeper into the city, and Razkar felt a pall descend on him that he had not expected. Signs, minute but definite, in the people, the buildings, of a mighty brawl that had raged across the urban landscape entire. The Docks and West Street, bastions of wealth and privilege, they were peopled by the uncaring and the rich, but he noticed more patrols of armed men than he ever saw in Syliras.

Then the scorch marks. Burned out buildings. Dark, ugly stains that he knew very well as old, dried blood... and as West became East, the signs became more intense, and far less hidden.

Doors with black crosses painted over the doors; mourning curtains up. Widows in mourning dress, windows shattered and the remnants of wooden barricades tossed to the pavements, heeding traffic no longer. Eyes full of suspicion and mistrust glared at him from skittering citizenry, and over everything, the sense in the back of his mind that something had happened... something that nearly ripped this place down.

"I heard there was fighting here," he said, and Edreina did not miss the slightly-disappointed tone, "Some kind of... coup. Some people, ah... Denvali... they tried to-"

Smoke. Streams of it. From a quarter of the city far to the north. It rose like a cloud of bats into the clear sky and even from East Street, they could hear shouting in that labyrinthine warren of cobbled-together houses and tenements. Cutpurses and thugs, beggars and pickpockets, they were the citizenry of this place, not perfumed ladies and well-dressed males. Razkar sniffed the air like a predator...

"Stay close to me." He said sharply, shooting a glare at a threadbare youth who wandered close, hand already formed into a grasping claw, only to skitter away like a kicked dog. "These people... not to be trusted."

They remembered the directions, though. Far to the end of East Street, past garish signs and the sounds of lovemaking (or fucking, more accurately, for little of Ceva was to be found there), arguments, rollicking drinking sessions and all such bawdy delights... and there, at the end, at the bottom of a winding passage of stairs... was a sign that proclaimed in new paint:

MONGREL'S MANSION

NO DENVALI
NO VAGRANTS
NO CREDIT
THE MANAGEMENT RESERVES THE RIGHT TO DO WHATEVER THE PETCH IT WANTS
BEHAVE!


They walked down to the double doors, and something huge and broad settled over them. A shadow, Razkar realized... and large enough to blot Syna from the both of them, side by side... and when he looked up...

Humans should not be that big.

"You a Myrian?"

Nor should voices be that deep, he added hurriedly. A wall of muscles in what looked like stitched together flour sacks blocked the door. All of it. Arms like saplings folded over its chest and a black face lit only by the whites of scowling eyes stared down at them... from nearly two feet in the air.

Big Samson? That was the best word they could use? I've ridden things smaller!

"I am."

"You gonna cause trouble?"

"Not looking for trouble." Razkar jingled his purse and nodded to his lover. "Just a drink. This place was told to us by Seb and Manny."

The frown deepened, whites vanishing further into folds of thick black flesh. An exhalation like a stiff breeze nearly made Razkar wink, and Samson leaned forwards, looking like an oncoming avalanche.

"Good lads, them... Seb still a moaner?"

"He has moments."

"Manny still carrying that hammer of his?"

Razkar paused, and a sly smile the likes of which surprised himself crossed his face. Ah. Not all muscle this one. He shook his head at the question.

"He does not carry a hammer. Only a sword. And he used it well when we were attacked."

Samson straightened, nodding to himself and stood to one side, footsteps shaking the ground even through thick stone. His hands engulfed the doorknob and opened it, letting the sounds of a hundred debaucheries and a dozen badly-sung barroom shanties spill out into the street.

"In y'go. No trouble, Myrian... nor from you, love..."
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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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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Edreina on September 23rd, 2013, 5:09 am

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OOCPardon me while I stare at my new BC

As always, Razkar knew how to pull her from a sour mood. At the mention of her avoidance of heavy drinking, the Svefra laughed gently, shaking her hair so that little droplets scattered on the dock upon which they strode. "I drink little because I am capable of handling little," she said with a shrug, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It was true that whenever she did drink, especially around Razkar, it was sparingly. But perhaps, now that their ruse was shrugged off and she was with someone she could trust not to take advantage of her inebriated state, she would let loose and enjoy herself that night.

As they walked, Edreina was also aware of how the city was in disrepair, but she attributed it to the odd ways of those that lived on land. Did they not find a well cared for home to be preferable to this... mess? The Svefra made faces as she had to pick her way over various detritus in the street. It looked to her like an expanded version of Surai's subdeck. But then, her perception changed as Razkar spoke of a rumor now confirmed. Her mind then turned to what could cause people to fight amongst themselves so viciously. Perhaps someone had murdered another and caused strife between their pods- families, and then the entanglement of alliances and attachments had caused the city to become involved? Such a story made more sense to her than the possibility of it being over leadership as she came from a world where the oldest female of a pod ruled outright. There was no confusion in this system, no strife to be had, and so she did not consider even for a moment the true causes of the coup.

At Razkar's sharp command, Edreina instinctively complied, body still trapped in a guise worn for far too long. She walked at his side, close enough that their hands would occasionally touch, but she made no move to hold his hand. Pretending to be master and apprentice may have been over, but would he still prefer it if they acted as separate entities still for their own safety? It appeared to Edreina as if they would have to discuss this further later that night to avoid confusion. He had kissed her on the docks, yes, but did that mean that they could be themselves once more? Or had he seen the docks as secluded enough to lavish such affections upon the freckled woman?

Among all of the sounds of East Street, one variety stood out in the deprived and very nearly depraved (in a particular sense) mind of the Svefra. She shuddered involuntarily as a multitude of memories with similar sounds danced through her mind, flushing her cheeks ever so slightly and making her wish that they had not agreed to go out in public tonight... or tomorrow night...

She was so distracted by these thoughts, in fact, that she did not even notice Samson until his voice shook her down to her soul; before that, his shadow had been taken to be a cloud by the absent-minded Svefra. He was so surprisingly large that, as her lover spoke, Edreina fought the urge to gawp like a decked-fish. His girth put some of the oldest ships in the Anchorage's masts to shame, and his height rivaled that of a smaller ship's. When finally he addressed her, upon motioning them into the cesspool that was the Mongrel's Mansion, she could not bring herself to do more than wave weakly and smile before rushing in after the Myrian.

Once free of his intimidating presence, her former mindset returned and she found herself wondering if the branch matched the tree on that one and, if so, how he managed to keep from spilling a woman in two. Grinning, Edreina turned and looked up at Razkar, waiting for him to decide what they would do now that they were here for, in such a place, she deferred to his expertise. Edreina had never been the sort to frequent such places, let alone look at them too long as she walked by.

Her heart thundered traitorously, as she looked about. So much was going on and she was caught between wanting to dart about in order to investigate the many aspects of this new place and the wisdom instilled in Razkar: such things were foolish. First, she should watch from afar, get a judge of the temperament of the crowd, learn as much as she could without becoming directly involved in their affairs. In such a new and unfamiliar place, Edreina decided that listening to Razkar would be more intelligent this time.

And so, she remained carefully at his side, eyes roaming the... did it classify as a tavern? There were people dancing to a tune, drinking, socializing, and even sitting at the few tables that peppered the smoky room. There was a movement in the corner and, for some inexplicable reason with the way the rest of the room gyrated so spasmodically, the Svefra tensed and moved automatically closer to Razkar. As it turned out, the feeling of imminent attack that surged through her veins was not entirely uncalled for. Dark-haired and Boobless Moretta was waving at them from across the room, a snake-like smile upon her lips. At her table was - almost pointedly - a single extra chair.

Blue eyes hard as she attempted to stab the half-breed from across the room, Edreina glanced up at her master - for that was how she mentally forced herself to see him in the presence of another member of the caravan, even if their ruse was supposed to be shrugged off - and nodded at the woman, asking him what he planned to do. If he decided to join her, she would follow, of course, and take it upon herself to take a chair from a neighboring table, and turn it so that the chair's back was at her front. In her time among the caravan, she had been taught to keep herself unrestrained so that any sort of... hiccup, could be dealt with. It was an odd quirk that not even Edreina was aware of, but one that she now practiced consistently.

If on the off chance Razkar decided to go his own direction, she would follow him quietly, lips pursed at the mere thought of having to deal with Moretta. The woman's appearance only strengthened Edreina's resolve to partake of the joint's libations at her first opportunity. Perhaps the woman would be more manageable if Edreina was too drunk to give a single shyke.

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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Razkar on September 28th, 2013, 2:44 am

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"You made it, then?"

Razkar blinked and wondered if asking the completely petching obvious was a common trait of the barbarian races. It certainly seemed to be: maybe it helped them confirm their realities? In any event, he nodded at Moretta's question, asked from around the neck of a bottle of grog, and took his seat.

The only seat, he realized... not that Edri would let that stand for long, of course. Sure enough, his arse had barely got comfortable before she dragged a seat next to him, flipped back to front, and squatted across it, staring icily at the Drykas.

The Myrian rolled his eyes, and decided alcohol was definitely needed.

"We have been on the Kabrin for many nights," he said airily to the table at large, a half-dozen sellswords from the caravan seated around it, surface already festooned with knives, coins, bottles, mugs and plates of questionable but still-tempting pub fare. "So when the chance comes for wine and song...?"

He left the rest unsaid and there was a minor wave of bobbing heads in agreement... joined by another couple emerging from the morass of reveling citizenry of Zeltiva.

"Fucking seconded, boss!"

Seb's roar boomed across the table and he raised a bottle in salute, already unsteady on his feet, Manny sighing silently to his side, apparently the Designated Walker for the evening. His older friend half-fell into a hastily-supplied seat and slammed his elbows onto the table, grinning for wider than a sober man had any business to.

Half a season in the wilds... well, who can blame him for cutting loose? Only a barbarian, after all.

"So what's yer plan, Raz?"

A parcel of coins was dumped onto the table and Razkar could feel the eyes suddenly snapping to it. The Mongrel's Mansion was obviously not a place dedicated to sophisticated clientele, and he could only imagine the dregs of the recently-ravaged city that congregated here... but who would be so foolish to attempt molestation of that table?

You never know, but-

"Petch it." He all-but-snarled, feral and gleeful grin on his face that Edri had to double-take at. Several dozen gold mizas peeked from under his palm and a passing waitress nearly licked her lips at the sight of it. Black eyes made all the darker by the low light snapped to her. "Mistress? Take all of it. For this table, all drinks, all night. Will that be a problem?"

"Will you be?"

Razkar just rolled his eyes and sighed. Twice with that question in a handful of chimes; really, did he throw that much of a scare into people? Then he thought about it for a moment... and Manny's half-hearted shrug when he glanced over seemed to confirm that.

"... no. If we get drinks! I know you people do not have lethshine, but-"

"You mean the stuff from Taloba?"

Razkar's mind shuddered to a halt for a moment as some semblance of his homeland was referenced by a slip of a girl. His mouth worked dumbly for a few moments until: "Yes... from palm leaves? I have-"

"Yeah, we got a couple of bottles in the back, but-"

She blinked and when her lids opened again she found one hand gripped, immediately jerked her other to the sap gripped under her tray-

-but had another handful of coins dumped onto it instead... and a grinning Myrian on the other side.

"Bring all of it! And them!"

His hand was thrown up, voice rising, Seb, Manny and Moretta echanging nervous glances. Where was the stoic and serious leader? What had become of their stern-faced commander who'd hacked through Yukmen like wheat? This raucous animal before them was like the dark reflection (or light, perhaps?) of that male, but he was gone... and pointing to the three-piece band in the corner.

"Tell them we pay for songs!" Razkar rose, not a drop of booze in him and still acting already intoxicated, playing to his men (and women), arms spread to encompass them all. "We have fought and rode long... so we will drink and laugh longer!"

The reeling cacophony of the Mongrel's Mansion was raised another few decibels as chairs scraped and screeched against the stone, armored and filth figures bedecked with weapons and scars throwing bottles up into the smoky air, and bellowing their approval.

Razkar thumped back into his seat and squeezed his lovers' shoulder, whispering in a tongue they alone could fathom... just for her.

"We have good night."

The booze began to arrive, in flagons and tapped barrels, and the nervous trio of wandering musicians set up at the next table, launching into a breakneck tune that pulsed across the gathered sellswords like invisible lightning-

-mugs were raised and foam splashed across the dirty table, Moretta winking at Razkar as toasts were raised-

-and three bottles of clear but pungent liquid were plonked in front of the Myrian, grinning savage gleefully ripping off a cork with his teeth, tipping it back long and grateful-

-burning pleasure ripping and singing his tongue and throat-

-swallowing down half the bottle in one gargantuan swig, feeling the 'shine that could have been used to anesthetize horses bleed into his system...

"Time to start the night proper, apprentice..."



Receipt-50GM
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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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Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Edreina on September 28th, 2013, 8:11 am

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While everyone else was intent upon the night ahead, a silent war was waging.

Again.

Edreina and Moretta sat, eyes locked, across the table. Everything about the dark-haired woman's demeanor spoke of the fact that Edreina was not welcome. The redhead did not belong with the mercenaries, she had not worked as hard as they had, she did not deserve this night of respite. Crossing her arms across the top of the chair and resting her chin upon them, Edreina decided that she would hold the woman's stare for as long as she could; Moretta returned this gesture by setting her bottle upon the table, finger swirling around the rim. Edreina had already made a point of making a place for herself at the table, now she had to earn it, prove that Moretta was not so fierce a lioness that the young tigress at the table could not assert herself as a member of this mismatched pride.

A tigress... Hm. Edreina had never considered a land-based creature for one of her analogies. But, it was only fitting; Razkar was a fierce tiger... should she not be made to match him? And besides, tigers had a visage worthy of the vibrant young woman.

A drop of water slid from Edreina's still-damp hair, down her forehead, to pause upon the tip of her nose, tickling her the entire way down. She refused to wipe it away, caught in a deadlock as she was. When finally it fell to her full lips, a small pink tongue darted out to wipe it away, pulling it between lips that shortly parted into an amused smirk. Deep down, the Balicani let a low growl ripple free from its own scaled lips. This was a game, and Edreina was ready to play.

Razkar's change in demeanor surprised her, but it took only a tick for her to catch up; the word lethshine had come into play, she remembered vaguely, and judging by his grin this shoddy place had his favorite drink. Well... this night certainly would be interesting. Already her lover was off of his current, drunk on the end of their journey, high off of satisfaction, hoping to drown out what they both knew awaited them. When a toast was made, Edreina grinned up at the group, feeling its energy fill her ever so slightly.

When he sat back down, gripping her shoulder, Edreina was barely able to make out the gist of it by identifying "good" and "night" along with the general tone of his speech. He was rewarded by a quick smile, a little bit unsure but oozing excitement overall. Moretta saw that. The little apprentice obviously misread her master's affections, mistaking them for more than paternal pride. The woman was young, such mistakes were expected of her; the Drykas would be sure to teach her the err of her ways.

When the drinking began, Edreina did not limit herself as greatly as she normally would have; she trusted Razkar to keep her safe, after all. Her lips tasted whatever ale or mead came her way, including a lovely spiced drink she would have to remember in the future. Amber liquid danced down her throat, making her head spin and her breath feel as if always on the verge of the laugh. At one point, she made the table roar with appreciation as the ex-barmaiden managed to pull off a now-easy trick in which she caught the bottom of the handle of her mug and flicked it with her wrist so that it landed brim-down upon a startled Manny's. The look on his face was surely the source of entertainment. But, that was only attempted after her first drink. From there on, she did not trust herself to attempt even turning her cup or bottle in her hands.

Drunkenness came easily to the Svefra, she found herself swaying in place after only three mugs and managed the sense of mind to pause her drinking and start to consume one of the loaves that had been brought as the others continued. Instead of being caught up in a single extreme emotion as most did while drunk - Seb was one step away from leaping onto the table to dance a jig - Edreina was caught up in an ever changing current of emotions. The first was, annoyingly enough, introspection.

Or, outrospection - whatever the petch it was called - as the majority of her thoughts fell upon the Myrian and the half-Drykas that kept ogling him... Damned Boobless...

Polygamy was not a foreign concept among Svefra, nor was a constant shifting between pairs, so why did any possibility of Moretta and Razkar bother her? It should not have. It may have been the simple fact that Edreina did not like Boobless, did not see her as being worthy of Razkar - and this was ironic because she often wondered about her own worthiness. Had her mother ever been speared by the pangs of jealousy whenever Gnovak found himself caught up in yet another fling? Or, had she simply accepted it? How did any woman deal with the thought of the man occupying their heart laying with another? Perhaps it was the booze, but Edreina felt mildly nauseous at the thought of Razkar-

Ugh. Most certainly not the alcohol.

Much to the Svefra's acute discomfort, the subject of her thoughts made a jibe that Razkar's feet were only good for bumbling about on the battlefield, that on the dancefloor she would certainly be his better. How in the hells had they gotten to that line of conversation? Damn. Edreina was usually pretty good at watching and listening while she thought, but it seemed now as if she could only choose two of those at a time.

Tossing herself into the moment, her eyes swiveled - far slower than she was accustomed to - over her master-lover-friend-whatnot, wondering how he would react to such a "subtle" invitation. She did not make any attempt to hide how her eyes narrowed slightly, nor how she growled territorially in the general direction of the black-haired-archer... Oh wait, that was all mental. Good thing. People would start looking at her funny if she started to growl at another woman.
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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Razkar on September 30th, 2013, 3:04 am

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Razkar had already passed the point where his inner prude was warning him of the evils that wicked water could inflict upon him. A warrior, a fanatic, and a Child of Myri, yes... but he was also in his younger years and gods, he had earned a drink.

Or twelve.

In fact, he thought with a deep frown at the suddenly blurry (and empty) bottle... was it the twelfth? Well, it was probably only his second or third bottle, true, but he was counting drinks. Then again, was that a mug? A tankard? A glass? A hefty swig?

"Gods, man, quit the fuckin' chatter! None of us an unnerstan' it!"

Razkar blinked and peered long and deep at Seb, the immense distance of two feet away, like he was observing him from atop a mountain. "I was speaking?"

"Yeah! Blatherin' away like you were questionin' Lhex!" The ruddy-faced sellsword playfully thumped the miserable Manny on the shoulder, which of course nearly knocked him out of it. "Wadid I tell ya? Knew the man couldn't 'old 'is... 'is..."

"Liquor?"

"Yeah! That, too!"

The rest of the tables erupted into laughter and more coins were tossed to the band, tunes and ballads and dirty ditties from all over Mizahar belted out fast and slow as necessary, band members chugging down water and easing their red fingers in tubs of ice.

"Earnin' your gold tonight, lads!" Razkar said with a grin, some sober part of him wondering when in the hells he started using the word "lads", then cheerfully disappearing behind the leth-haze again. "To the band!"

"To the band!"

Yet another toast echoed around the table and all the while the males remained blissfully, unsurprisingly oblivious to the cold war going in right under their noses. Now and then Razkar would tip his glass to Moretta or whisper something in Edreina's ear... but never did he notice they drank little, talked less, until he rolled his eyes and-

"Apprentice, for the sake of..." The Myrian clutched his head like something was trying to gnaw his way out, grunted and snarled and twitched to a tongue Edreina could somewhat glimpse but sounded like the growls of wild tigers to all else. "Ruros' shite and Uphis' cunt! Why must we keep that fucking charade?!"

The darkness behind his closed eyes was something of a balm to the mentally-swaying Myrian. Goddess... two bottles of 'shine. Maybe three. He'd be lucky if his dick didn't drop off tomorrow and his eyes weren't shriveled like prunes. He set the one in his hand down-

-on the floor-

-and opened his eyes, hearing the rustle of hair as Edreina turned to him... and then looked pointedly at the dance floor.

For such a rowdy dive, the Mongrel's Mansion certainly had a clean dance floor. No females were groped or molested there, and Razkar was surprised to see jigs and steps from a half-dozen places enacted by grinning, whirling revelers. The Myrian slowly grinned...

How long had it been since he had weaved and writhed around the bonfire? Since the drums like thunder and flutes like Dira's cries had seeped into his veins and he had closed his eyes... lost himself... danced until the darkness kept at bay by flames was melted by the dawn and still he could have danced...

"I think," he said, standing with some effort, "It is time to dance, and-"

"Excellent fuckin' idea!"

The explosion of sound caught the Myrian offguard, another sign at just how past "tipsy" he was. Another was the fact that he just stared as a leering Seb rounded the table (literally, rounded it: he fell over twice) and bowed with elaborate courtesy to a stunned Edreina.

"An'... An' I would love to... treat your... appren'ice... appr... Edri, to a waltz." He sloppily straightened his collar and smoothed his balding hair and it was all for naught but, really, who could chide him? "If she'll'ave me, a' course-"

"And I think I will treat our commander."

That got Razkar's attention, but even as he turned to the strong grip around his wrist, the dark figure was already moving past him, making him spin, not a good idea, not at all-

"Wha-"

-until his vision was scrubbed clean again by fast-blinking eyes and he realized it was Moretta, not Edreina, leading him to the swirl of joyous bodies.

This... This may be a problem...
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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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Rowdies (Edreina)

Postby Edreina on September 30th, 2013, 5:29 am

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Haha! Couldn't resist! :
Oh, don't take this too seriously. It just happened to come on as I was writing this. ;)

As Seb propositioned her for a dance, Manny and the Svefra shared a sidelong eye-roll. Whatever the petch a waltz was, she doubted that Seb was currently capable of it. Shaking her head with a smile, who could help but smile at an old man enjoying another job well done? He reminded her of her father, oddly enough. Or maybe that was just another symptom of homesickness. In any case, she was already starting to stand, a bit unsteadily for sure, when Moretta lurched around the table to her master. The Svefra was so surprised by the display that she could not even find it in herself to be upset - Eager, much? - until the damned Boobless half-Drykas shyke-sniffer decided to wheel Razkar off for a dance.

For a tick, she gawped like a decked fish before realizing that Seb's hand was still extended expectantly. Where better to watch the wily woman than from the dance floor itself?
"Ah'd lova dance, Seb." Gods, her Common was worse after drinks than after waking up. The Svefra stood, swaying as if upon a ship - which was an oddly comforting thought - and took Seb's hand so that she could help him out onto the dance floor. "'Ve ne'er danced before," she admitted sheepishly, realizing that she might be the one to make a fool of herself, not Seb. Well, she had "danced" if you called two bodies grinding to a rapid drum beat dancing, which she did not. That was more pre-sex than anything else... or pre-fall-over-and-lose-yourself-to-giggles-before-sleeping-it-off-on-a-random-deck.

"'Eally? Butcha travel wit' sush dignified comp'ny." Perhaps the old man was not quite as wasted as he appeared to be; he still had the capacity to make the woman at his side laugh. "Notta worry, laz, ayekin teach ye good as any," as he spoke, he pulled her to the edge of the crowd and turned her so that they were face to face. "'S'all 'bout bein' able ta follow 'notha. Ye've-" he paused, swaying in place for a tick, Edreina found herself wondering if his earlier statement was fact. "Ye've jus' gotta be able ta trus' yer partna. 'S kin ta sparrin', they say." With that, he took the woman about the waist - oddly conscious of his hand placement even while drunk, never knew when the Myrian had his black eye on 'em - and then by the hand, motioning for her free hand to alight upon his shoulder. "Ye know 'bout sta'in' light on yer feet, jus' step like I do, only back'ards."

Why did this make her more nervous than fighting Yukmen?

Oh, that's right, because despite the fact that they were both off their bows drunk, she could glimpse Razkar and Moretta moving easily enough through the crowd, though Boobless appeared to be the better dancer. Shyke-eater. The Svefra started slightly when Seb started to step forwards, and hastily moved to follow suit, dragging her foot back more than stepping so that she did not fall over something. Two steps in, when the quick part came about, Edreina stepped on Seb's toe and then attempted to correct so quickly that she ended up tangling her feet and all but crashing over. Lucky there was some railing to fall against. But, patient as ever, Seb helped her up and then waited for the right beat before beginning again.

They made it all the way around the floor before Edreina fell again, this time landing flat on her arse. But, it was lucky that she did. Through the limbs and trunks of the dancers, Edreina caught a glimpse. Rocketing to her feet, the Svefra rose to her toes to confirm that-

Petching hell.

Boobless was putting her filthy lips upon Edreina's Myrian.

Nope. That was it. Bitch had to die.

Ignoring Seb's questions, the Svefra stalked through the crowd, slow enough to keep from making a scene but quick enough that people parted, recognizing the intent in her eyes and her rigid frame. Claws at her neck throbbed and pulsing until her vision went red. Red like blood. Blood. Blood of trespasser! Territory! Mine! The Svefra was barely in control of the Balicani's shade, barely able to keep herself from leaping into the air and sinking her useless teeth into the woman's throat. That would be silly. No, that would be too quick.

The Drykas had her eyes closed, lips part ever so slightly as she-


"Cock-juggling thunder-cunt!" That insult had to be bad. Razkar had blushed when Edreina had asked its meaning.

What was probably worse than the insult was the way that Edreina gripped the woman by her shoulder, ripping the parasite off of her lover's face, and hammered her left hand - her strong one - square into her jaw. The look on her face nearly satisfied the Svefra's raging blood lust. Well... Not nearly. Did not even dent it, if she was honest. The stunned Drykas tumbled backwards into another dancer, only to be pushed with an expletive into another dancer. Adrenaline surged through the Svefra's veins, accelerating her heartbeat and burning some of the alcohol away.

Oh my. It appeared as if a single kiss had started a bar fight...

In the charged atmosphere of the Mongrel's Mansion, people needed little to no reason to fight. Being pushed by a Boobless woman into another person who was not happy could start a brawl, and as that one grew, everyone was quickly involved.

Recovering slightly, Boobless rose with a wicked look on her face, as if she was glad that the Svefra had finally snapped. It gave her the chance to - receive another punch, this one to the abdomen. Its kin followed, cracking across her cheek just as the woman struggled to bring her arms up to ward off the blow.
"'S'matter? Can' hold yer own up close?"

Moretta would have shriveled up at the wild look in the redhead's eyes, but there was too much at stake. Who did this little girl think she was? Apprenticing herself to a warrior ten times her worth, pretending that she was at all-

Any self-righteous thought was wiped from Moretta's mind as Edreina's elbow hammered home into her jaw again. Petch! Edreina was not the best fighter, but Moretta had never really devoted herself to fighting someone in such tight quarters. In a lucky moment, Moretta caught hold of Edreina's arms, grappling for a moment before the Svefra reared back and slammed her forehead into the bridge of Boobless's nose, sending the woman to the ground screaming as blood fountained from her nostrils. The scream was lost in the din of the fighting that the bouncers were attempting to marshal.

Most fighters would see that as the end, Moretta was too busy holding her wrecked face to worry about continuing the fight.

But not Edreina; she had been trained by a Myrian. To her, this fight was still far from over, she had not screamed for her mommy yet.

Quickly, far more quickly than she would have liked, Big Samson and his helpers were wrangling the crowd, bringing it to heel. A circle formed around the two women.

Edreina, unaware of the change in atmosphere, half-circled the kneeling woman teeth bared.
"Get up! You wanted Razkar. You wanted to prove worthy of his-" the adrenaline and endorphin-drunk woman nearly made a slip of the tongue, "...training! Get up and fight! Petching prove yourself!" The last words left her lips with such a primal sort of power that the redhead felt her throat torn raw. When the bitch remained thus, eyes raising, searching for the Myrian... as if that would help... Edreina brought her leg back and rocketed it into the hunched woman's side, making all of her wind escape in a single groan. She fell down onto one hand, other cradling her ribs as she looked up so sharply that black hair flew wildly.

Such hateful eyes Edreina had never seen.

But, she did not care. The woman had wronged her, had encroached upon her territory: every blow was deserved. But, her anger was not just in that moment. Half a season of torment had compounded into a single moment of rage.

Just as she was about to start again, lips parting to form another challenge, someone, caught hold of the end of Edreina's copper braid and yanked her backwards, away from her enemy.

Hopefully, whoever it was had enough strength to mollify a hurricane.

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