Closed Calypso (Edreina)

[Razkar]

48th Day of Fall
The Denvali Quarter
20th Bell

The Myrian idly wondered if more crimes were committed towards the end of the year. After seasons living in barbarian cities, he'd understood that when darkness fell and the shadows outnumbered the lit places, all those who did their deeds where eyes could not pierce swarmed onto the streets. Riverfall, Zeltiva, even Syliras...

Some deeds are best done in darkness. Natural law, perhaps.

It certainly seemed that way in the Denvali Quarter, though Razkar sensed a more... political edge to the flitting figures he saw from his dirty window, or that came downstairs into the modest tavern, always hooded, bodies tense and nervous, speaking in whispers that only attracted attention rather than masked it.

But he also supposed that-

-his elbow would be feeling that for a while.

"Shyke!"

Rubbing his burning arm madly, he stalked his room and was damn grateful that there was no audience to chuckle at that masterful petch-up. The Flux was coming easier to him now, inch by painful inch, but concentration... yes, that was what was lacking, and if it lacked in battle...

Idly wondering. See what that does for your incantations?

It had been a promising one, too. Razkar had long known that your knees and elbows were far harder than your hands and feet; that made them better weapons. So he'd flipped opened An Introduction To The Flux to the section that outlined the how and the what...

"As any practitioner of unarmed combat of all kinds knows, a well-delivered Krosha Jan can be more devastating than a punch or kick. The hinged bone that makes up that part of the body, hardened through constant use since birth, is more comparable to being hit with brass knuckles that mere flesh and blood. The power of a punch, concentrated into a small, hard area, is easily capable of breaking a jaw, ribs or joint. Imagine, then, the effectiveness of such a blow when augmented with the djed of The Flux.



But like all things, advantage come with risks. Even a slight miscalculation in the strike can result in the bone being broken or dislocated, and like the Goran Noet, having a limb out of action in a melee is a virtual guarantee of failure. So, it must be used when you are certain it will land correctly, and also like the Goran Noet, the Krosha Jan is far more effective when you burst forward, adding the movement of your whole body into the blow as well."

Razkar read slowly and carefully, pleased that he no longer had to use his finger to follow his progress across the venerable parchment. He sat cross-legged on the bed, still, breathing steady, a incongruous sight for anyone ho believed the Children of Myri to be beyond any kind of book-learning.

Alas, his lips still moved with the words, and now he was getting to what he termed "the core of it".

"The primary challenge for the novice in The Flux is concentrating one's power into such a small area. The key to it, in this case, is not doing so. The main muscle groups, primarily in the limbs, are what a novice needs to be concerned about. Trying to focus ones djed onto something as small as an elbow will take too long, risks failure and will lead to overgiving.

So, it is much better to focus your concentration and thus your djed into your upper body, swinging it around with the increased speed and force as you burst forward. It is up to the practitioner to have the arm bent correctly, the elbow presented and his aim true.

Razkar had nodded slowly, running through the motions of this... "Krosha Jan" in his mind, seeing his right foot step forward, quick as a Dhani's tongue, his arm folded inwards, hand nearly touching his shoulder, elbow swinging... and that invisible, crackling aura of The Flux giving it the impact of a sledgehammer.

Oh, yes. Very useful.

The Myrian got to his feet and cleared his mind. The constant patter of rain was shuttered out... the mumbled calls and laughter and arguments in Common and the Denvali tongue... the creaking floorboards and even the minute sound of the tallow sputtering in their lantern...

Focus. Concentration. This is the core of The Flux. See the strength behind your strength... the muscles of djed under your flesh... realize it, know it... use it...

"Hard as Stone-"

He felt his muscles tense and hum silently with that now-familiar power. Razkar knew that aches and pain would come after, but that was a price he would gladly pay, and the bill would be lesser and lesser the more he practiced. He put up his arms in a boxing pose, knees bent... and on the last word, when he felt his djed mass in his shoulder, burst forward with his right foot, right arm cocked back, hand snapping to his shoulder-

"-Quick as Light."

His arm swung out in a low half-circle, faster than his mind could process, but he hung grimly on to the ghostly djed beneath his bones, like a steed gone crazy underneath him. His elbow smashed out, easily capable of breaking bone, shattering the jaw of the invisible enemy before him... and Razkar smiled... then cursed, rubbing his shoulder.

Overgiving. I must get used to that...

So he tried again, and again after that, without speaking save for the muttered incantation he had put together in his own tongue. Soon his shoulder alternately ached or prickled with numbness, becoming a heavy weight below his neck, but he tried harder, going for a final blow-

-then let his mind meander onto the nocturnal activities of Zeltiva-

-and his elbow gloriously defeated the edge of a cupboard.

"Fuck... shite... and... bollocks!"

Five chimes of sulking stalking back and forth, and the stinging pain had become a dull, embarrassing ache. Fine. Enough practice for one night. He closed the tome and placed it back in his pack with reverential care. Myrians may have not been great writers of prodigious readers, but to a soul they respected the arts of war, in whatever form they found them.

He looked out the window. Syna had vanished and Leth was hidden behind the low clouds, pale, comforting rays strangled by the dark, formless shapes resting over the city. Razkar's lips twisted into a grimace... and he looked at the candle.

Two chimes, and she still has not returned.

There could have been several legitimate and logical reasons why Edreina hadn't returned on time from her shopping expedition. Wallis, the Denvali exile who owned the boarding house, wasn't a bad cook but days of the same fare had left them oddly more famished than before, and the Svefra was, as ever, eager to explore this new city.

So he had let her go. Alone.

Cursing to himself, Razkar snatched up his cloak and flung it around his shoulder, stomping out the door and down the stairs.

It matters not if you trust her, boy. She isn't the one to worry about; it's every other bastard in this city...

[Edreina]

"You're a pretty one... Should be at East 'stead of these Docks..." Tvelor mused aloud, long legs allowing his toes to dip in the water even from the side of his ship. Upon arriving at the docks hours earlier, Edreina had been told that if there was work to be found, Tvelor would know of it. But, he only spoke of such affairs after Leth had claimed the sky.

And so, she had spent most of the rest of the day listening to scraps of conversation, searching for a lead and interacting with a few of the Svefra at port. Their Fratavan was just a shade different from that spoken by her people on the Suvan, but such was to be suspected. Those of the Outer Rim were an entirely different breed of blue-eyed folk. But, they were kin to her and welcomed her with open arms and bountiful nets.

But this Tvelor... he was a character. His head was shaved bald and as tanned as the rest of him, not a strange feature in and of itself among those who worked the docks. Instead of the taut, lean form of one who worked their boat constantly, Tvelor had the beginnings of corpulence around his midsection. His grin was, however, contagious and Edreina could tell that he meant no ill by his original remark.

And so she grinned in response, adjusting her position against a tower of good-laden crates. "I have talents that extend beyond the bedroom," she commented. But she left not even a tick for Tvelor to insert a witty remark. "I need your help, your information... My partner and I are mercenaries without a job. I've thought that perhaps you could help to change that?" Days ago it had been decided that she and Razkar would depart by Sea this time, but their purpose would be the same. They hoped to travel with a merchant vessel or something of the sort, protecting it from pirates on its journey. If there were no other options, however, they would be forced to sail with a pod for some time. It was not a bad concept but being paid to travel was never unwelcome.

For several ticks, Tvelor sat scratching his beard, looking at nothing in particular. Edreina considered that she had simply been sent on a wild Avikki hunt and this Dock-Dweller was an old coot driven mad by salted wind. "I might know'uv a few 'pertunities... But I don't see anything being in it for me..."

Ah, sea-folk... Every the brilliant business people. You braid my hair, I'll braid yours, type of minds, they had. This was, ironically, what Edreina had been hoping for. She felt the warmth of Djed flexing and writhing within her chest, waiting to be called upon.

With a wry smile upon her lips, Edreina altered her stance ever so slightly, body curving away from the wood of the crates so that the curve of her hips was more prominent. A hand even fell to rest upon the top of her exposed hip bone, finger tapping to draw his attention. Hair like liquid fire cascaded down her shoulders, falling slightly into her face. If there was anything she had learned so far, it was that for hypnotism to work, it had to be rooted in the person's mind naturally first. "Well," she began pulling Djed from her chest and letting its warmth spread into her throat. "If you were to... help me out," it trickled up her throat and across her tongue, dancing onto her lips. "I would be so very-" magic, enticing and full of secrets and promises fluttered into her words as she caressed each syllable, "-appreciative..."

Despite her lack of skill and of crafting that which she wished to convey, its affect upon Tvelor was immediately apparent. His back straightened and his grin grew lopsided. "Appreciative?" A sound of his own appreciation thrummed deep within his broad chest. Perhaps, Edreina could imagine for an instant, he had been an attractive man. But those days were long gone and hours beneath the sun had done his skin no favors. It stretched and buckled with each expression of his face like a sail that had been left out to lay for too long.

"Well, I have heard tell of a group of Denvali chartering to Sunberth... Traveling with the Greenrise pod or some such as them. They are not the most popular and some may be a bit more affluent... perfect pirate plunder, in my book," he scratched his jaw again but his smile took on the playful air of a man many years younger. "Now... how does a lovely little woman show her appreciation for such a lovely little tidbit?" He was practically a hound drooling at the sight of a juicy bone.

Hopefully, I'm just getting better at Hypnotism. It'll be that or these men of the land prefer my body style more than my own kin... Silly humans. Don't they know how little breasts help me travel through the water? It was an errant thought, but it altered the curve of Edreina's smile enough for Tvelor to be off put. "Thank you so very much for your information," she said, body straightening as she stood. A bare back tensed and stretched as she bowed lightly, hair curtaining around her face for a moment.

At least one of them was able to be satisfied though... it was in a way different than the Dock-Dweller had hoped.

There was a new spring in her step as Edreina started to head back towards the tavern room she and Razkar shared. That was, of course, until she realized that she had managed to gather nothing more than a rumor. "Son of a Shyke!" she grumbled. Ah, well, she was still learning this trade. Perhaps, somehow, this would prove to be useful to Razkar when she-

What the petch is he doing out? Even from down the street he cut a singular profile. Who else wore a cloak such as that or walked with such a predatory purpose. Only then did it occur to her how long she had been gone and that he may have started to worry. Oh... My poor Myrian. The thought of him worrying about her was one to smirk about. Edreina absolutely adored the fact that he may miss her when she is gone as she misses him.

"Razkar!" She called once close enough to be heard without shouting on the off chance that his piercing black eyes had somehow missed her wild, flowing red hair that danced as her pace accelerated towards him. Grinning, she motioned for him to return to their room and that she would be right behind him.

If he complied, she would follow him up and relay the small bit of information she had gathered. The news would be relayed with a bashful smile and an apology that she did not gather more. But, she would quietly hope that it was enough for him to start with.

[Razkar]

How she does love to make me chase her...

Edreina wasn't exactly hard to pick out of a crowd. Without a hood or cowl, her red flowing locks may have well come with a sign over her head made out of flaming torches. His scowl dissolved along with his frustration and he followed that crooked finger like... like...

No. Start comparing yourself to that White Sodding Rat and it will never end.

So he followed her up the stairs, tipping a quick nod to Wallis who was busy taking an inventory of his modest bar. The door was still open to their room when he stepped inside, Edreina standing in the middle of it, arms crossed and wearing a triumphant expression that put him somewhere between curious and nervous.

"So?" He said lightly, leaning against their bedside table and mirroring her pose. "What are we happy about today, Reina?"

She spoke, and he listened in stony, absorbed silence. Apparently she'd been wandering by the Docks, which was no great surprise; she often took long walks in the bracing salt air, taking solace in the endless lapping of waves, the shouts and orders and creaking wood filling her ears, reminding her of...

Razkar had to stop the wince from marring his face. He was not the only one who missed his home. He had to remember that. But then his concern fell away, replaced by keen interest.

Denvali exiles seeking protection for a voyage. Definitely not intending to stick around in Zeltiva. Greenrise pod, was it? Interesting, true... and definitely promising.

But after she'd finished, near-breathless from her exertion, a hard look crossed his face. He straightened up and walked slowly towards her, mind homing in on one aspect of her story as his body did the same to hers.

"And you used your wyrd on this man?" He said quietly, voice an interrogative rumble. "With success?"

She nodded, features falling for a moment... but then the Myrian, her Myrian, dipped in close for a quick kiss on her lips, and when he was back in her eyes, a sharp-toothed grin was splitting his face. More than that, it reached his eyes, too.

"I am proud of you," he said, with just a twinge of jealousy in his voice, "Working your wyrd... good girl..."

Hypnotism was probably abhorred by Razakr more than any other discipline of djed, but considering his most potent experience of it had been from a Dhani witch who'd sought to steal Edri from him with her illusions and mind games, one could hardly blame him. Then Edri went ahead and decided, with her usual intractable determination, that she would learn that insidious art. Razkar had been... unsure, of the wisdom of that.

But he was never unsure of her. Her spirit, her intelligence and the surprising reserves of cunning that went with it, the compassion she'd nurtured and protected even after seasons away from her pod and in the harsh Wildlands...

Razkar sighed, and stopped dancing around what it really was. He trusted her. She would never use her power - and that was what it was, the ability to force an issue one way or another - for spite or malice or petty sadism like that scaled bitch did. If she did, she would not be Edreina.

And who could she be but herself?

"But right now, all we have is a rumor," he said judiciously, serious frown on his face as he considered their options, "When what we need is facts. People. Where to meet them. And the Denvali here, after all that has happened... they are not the most open of people..."

Twas a problem, that was for sure, but they'd spend enough days waiting without point or purpose to their lives. Razkar had gone on several jaunts through the taverns and parlors of East Street, but little solid intelligence had been found. Jut the usual: bandit gangs eager to hire on sellswords, merchant princes looking for hired muscle (and Razkar didn't see much difference between the two, not after working for Leo Valini), and glorified hustlers like Freddy March who wanted to use him as an upright fighting dog.

Which did, he had to admit, hold some appeal... but he'd sooner sell his blades than keep Edreina in that particular gutter. Not when she longed so for the sea...

"Well... I suppose... we could start at the bottom..."

++++++++++

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Razkar sighed and regarded the stoical Wallis through the hand covering his face. "No, of course you don't..."

This was not entirely unexpected. Wallis may have kept his rooms and tavern open to any who had coin and behaved themselves, but he was, ultimately, still a Denvali. This was his Quarter, his people surrounded him, and like minorities the multiverse over, he placed more faith in them than in outsiders.

Especially ones looking like Razkar. So when the Myrian casually suggested if the innkeeper knew of anyone looking for escorts on a voyage, some extra swords to deter pirates or the like, of course he got a hearty shrug of close-mouthed ignorance.

"I don't suppose gold would help, would it?"

A flash of defiant pride swept across the usually-pleasant face, gone as quickly as if arrived and all the more surprising for it. But it told Razkar another important factor: the male had pride, both in himself and his people... and he could use that, too.

"Look," he said, folding his hands on the bar between the two of them, leaning a little closer so their words would be private, "I'm not going to waste your time. I know about the coup. The fighting. I know many of your kind must want to leave-"

"You don't know-"

"Perhaps," Razkar broke in smoothly, shrugging easily, not wanting to anger the man, but till with a point to make, "But I do know how to swing steel, protect people and kill other people who try to do the same. I'm sure you know something of that, don't you?"

Wallis gave nothing away; his face was as still and unreadable as a rock formation. But his eyes skittered quickly to Edri, calmly sipping a glass of wine next to her... well, he assumed they were lovers. The words "apprentice" and "manager" had been tossed around when he'd heard the Myrian and the Svefra talked about, but the truth? Who knew...

"I have heard..." Razkar continued, voice dropping again, dripping with earnest intent, "That a group of your people are seeking to leave. They're looking for protection, maybe even another hand on the decks-" Now his eyes flicked to Edreina, and an eyebrow cocked. Svefra, after all, were taught to run a rigging line and raise a sail before their could walk straight "-and they're with the Greenrise pod as of now."

Razkar made a note to himself never to play cards with Wallis. The human just crossed his arms and stared levelly at the Myrian, neither hostile nor inviting... but he was listening, and that was what mattered.

"If they still need the help," Razkar left a few gold-rimmed coins on the bar, more than enough for their drinks, "they could find some here..."

The Myrian stood from the bar and nodded at the stairs, knowing Edreina would likely follow him... or perhaps not, if the Denvali sought some additional assurances. Much as Razkar hated to think of his lover as an asset, something to be used or expended, her distant kinship with the Denvali was certainly just that. If Wallis wished to speak with her more, he would keep his distance and let her.

[Edreina]

The entire time that Razkar spoke with the inn-keeper, Edreina watched over the lip of her wineglass, judging his reactions and attempting to gain an idea of what kind of man this Wallis was. But, it was difficult; the man seemed intent upon giving nothing to the young woman. She had seen pride appear in his eyes for a moment, almost as if scorning the offer of gold. And then, when he looked to her, Edreina was given a vague impression of wanting to protect those that were close to him. Razkar's words had struck a chord of sorts, but it trembled only weakly, sending the faintest notes into the man's mien.

Finally, Razkar had finished his attempt and made to leave, to return to their room. But the young Svefra remained rooted in place, fingers running over the cool surface of her glass appreciatively. Edreina knew just enough of the world's market - everything that traveled across the Sea flowed through the heart of the Svefra. Blown glass, such as this, was expensive as it had to be carefully packed in large wooden crates, this meant that Wallis must have had money at one point, she considered. Whatever violence that had rent and burned his city must have affected him too, perhaps he was one of the ones wanting to leave.

If I wanted to escape somewhere with my family... I would not want to be reminded of the blood and danger that will mark my voyage... Family in and of itself was in no way a new concept to the young redhead; the concept of a family being defined by such rigid lines, however, was. She had a mother and father, this much was a given, but they did not tie themselves together in a knot of marriage as those that strode the earth did. Sometimes, she wondered if these defined bonds were stronger and closer than the loose ties that held together a pod. There was more of her family, but did that mean that there was more to it?

At this point, Wallis had likely dismissed Edreina as another woman that loved to lose herself to her drink and moved on. And so the words that slipped from her mouth were just loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that he could have assumed her speaking to herself. "New roads are hard to travel..." In so many ways, that was true to the Svefra, especially as of late. Taking one more drink from her glass, blue eyes rose to search out those obscuring the soul of Wallis, hiding all by the most powerful sparks of emotion within him.

Unsurprisingly, he had paused in his duties to look at her, eyebrow raised in curiosity. This little woman was an enigma to him, one who traveled beside a savage should look the part a bit more. And yet, he saw only a handful of scars and she rarely carried a weapon. In essence, he did not see her to be the mercenary type which only raised the question of what on Caihya's holy earth she was.

A sheepish smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she pretended to have forgotten his presence. "I apologize... This road has been long for me too." There was a cynical bit of humor in the chuckle that danced through the space between them. A truer statement had never been said in these walls. "I'm supposed to try to convince you that Razkar and I are right for this job," Wallis appeared only the slightest bit surprised by her forthrightness. "But I know what it is like, wanting to protect your family." Blue eyes flickered with the realization that, once again, her wyrd would be a powerful asset. Wallis seemed intent upon keeping the terrifying Myrian away from his people. It turned her gut to consider manipulating him but... It was for the greater good, right? And she was not using it to be cruel, simply to open his mind to the truth that he was too blind to see.

"I'm sure that you would rather have your local boys help on this voyage, you know them, after all. We're just strangers..." Her lips quirked and her nail found a line in the grain of the wood to trace absently. "But, you really want to keep everyone safe, right?" Wallis did not nod or even blink, but she saw a flare of recognition and agreement in his eyes. "And you know your local boys. How many of them have you seen succumb to drink or to the wiles of the East Street women? They are not professionals... And if you do seek to hire professionals, will the be after your coin or your well being?" She sighed, reaching for the Djed warming her chest, letting it dance through her veins and come to rest upon her tongue. A trickle of it escaped with her words, imbuing them with a sincerity that even Wallis would not fail to see.

"Razkar and I are the best out there. If you want to keep those you care about safe, he and I are your best bet." She paused for a moment, allowing the Djed she'd been collecting to coalesce into a single entity betraying her utter sincerity and even how she sympathized with his plight, though its details she knew not. "I'm not saying this because I want you coin. I'm saying this because I know what it's like to want to protect those you love. This city is no longer safe for you, so you seek bluer waters elsewhere. I want for you to be able to escape persecution." At this point, she shifted slightly, drawing attention to the waves of her Gnosis as they lapped over her shoulder.

Hopefully, the fact that she was Svefra would do more good for them than it would harm. The young woman hoped that her endeavors would prove to be useful in this situation and that this would be their ticket out of the city. She did not know when the next voyage needing mercenaries would be leaving, but she was sure some land-traveling caravan would be their next option. Days more in the saddle, choking on dust and sleeping on the hard, still earth did not appeal to her. In all honesty, she wondered if she would be able to handle it.

Wallis seemed intent upon thinking and not giving the Svefra an answer, positive, negative or otherwise. So, she shrugged and left the bar, making her way back up the stars and to Razkar.

All that was left was to hope and wait.

[Eldritch]

The pair of mercenaries were made to wait for over a Bell, if they came downstairs at all during that time they would find that Wallis had vanished from the establishment entirely. No one would tell them where he had gone but they would indicate that the pair should just wait. However after that time, where they still within their room, they would receive a clear knock upon their door. A throat was cleared audibly from beyond the wooden barrier, heralding a rather familiar voice from beyond.

"There is someone waiting for you two rooms down." Wallis would say, the sound of retreating footsteps heralding his retreat.

Should the pair decide to investigate they would find the room, slightly cracked as though inviting them inside. Peering through the crack would yield nothing but the faint outline of a shadow flickering in the candle light of the room. There would be no voice forth coming, signaling that whether they entered or not was up to them.

If they entered they would find a barren room that possessed a central table and three chairs, one opposite them and another two inviting them to sit down. A cloaked figure stood staring out a window, attempting to gaze at his reflection would be fruitless, speaking to him would only receive silence initially. After a chime of staring out the window he would simply gesture for the pair to be seated, still not turning away.

"Its funny. To think it has all come to this. I suppose Adarin would call it the price one pays for cowardice, but he would have seen us destroyed for dead ideals. Now look where it has landed us, all because of one man's mad dream." He said finally, his voice rich and vibrant.

There was an oddly calming and ease bringing effect to his voice, that he managed to sound friendly and compassionate when speaking so bitterly. It was almost unnatural to the keen observer. After a time the window seemed to lose its interesting quality and the man slowly turned, walking towards the chair left to him. He pulled it out and sat down, his cowl still up as he simply stared at the pair before him with unseen eyes.

He would simply continue to stare for a moment, as though he was searching for something that could be found even without the spoken word. He would again ignore any attempts at dialogue, simply continuing his observations without a break. After a couple of solid chimes a smile curled its way onto his lips, though its purpose was still unknown.

The unnamed man leaned forward, steepling his hands before him. He looked once at Razkar and then at Edreina, finally deciding to speak to them in earnest.

"I represent a group of potentially mutual friends. I would have your names first though if you please." His tone was cordial, almost friendly and his inflection was beyond articulate.

OOCOkay, sorry this took so long. Lets get this thing started in earnest shall we?

[Razkar]

Shades of Valini... but not the darker ones, perhaps...

Razkar let the thought settle in his mind as he watched the hooded figure carefully, expressionlessly... face neutral. First meetings were always the time for observation. Getting a good gauge of your prospective employer. He'd been slightly impressed that Wallis had been able to track down this mysterious group of would-be refugees so quickly... but even more so that Edreina had been able to work her wiles on him.

He wanted to smile but kept his face blank, concentrated on studying the figure taking a seat in front of him. Razkar's eyes flickered over the details, knowing that the ever-observant Edreina would be doing the same.

A rough cloak, but his posture... his bearing... not a tradesman or laborer. He enjoys turns of phrase and holding court... and he takes his time. A man not used to being rushed. Someone who is so good at talking must make a living from it, so... a politician? Perhaps... what is hat word they have here... a... noble?

And he stared... he watched. Razkar tried to lock eyes with him but had only the suggestion of his gaze under the shadows of that hood. The small room was ill-lit at he best of times, so their enigmatic visitor had a clear advantage of anonymity. But even with that, he watched, he waited. The Myrian could feel a cool, calm gaze appraising him, looking for any advantage in the stature of the two sellswords; whether it was weakness or strength made little difference to him.

"I represent a group of potentially mutual friends. I would have your names first though, if you please."

The Myrian blinked. An educated man. He'd heard that tone and the timbre of his voice before; men such as Leo Valini, the healers who'd attended to him in Syliras, the perfumed and silk-clad passengers who'd traveled with them on the caravan. But he didn't detect much of the cold, aristocratic scorn he'd picked up from the manners of the Sylirans he'd met... nor the refined cruelty of Leo Valini.

No, not a working man... and all that talk of... everything ending. He sounds lost... or he could, if he were a man capable of letting his pride and his dignity fall so low.

Razkar tilted his chin upward a little, this time making it clear that he was appraising, this time. His black eyes glittered for a moment as he found a decent description for the man in front of him.

An exile in authority, if not geography. A season ago he was a man of esteem and rank. Now he hides behind a hood and longs for the past, bemoans the present and seeks to flee into the future.

"My name is Razkar of the Shorn Skulls," he said in slow, clear and fluent Common. No point hiding anything from the man now, trying to shelter behind the guise of the "big, dumb savage". This man would have spoken to Wallis, who would have relayed everything they'd discussed a bell before. "And this... is Edreina Whitewave. Now..."

He leaned forward a touch, just to show he was giving the human his undivided attention. All he got from the man was the same stony stillness: he would not be so easily intimidated. Razkar spread his clasped hands a little and shrugged.

"I do not wish to waste your time, let us not waste words. I hear you wish to leave, and that you require protection for the leaving, and the journey. We can provide that. All we require is the details of your party and its schedule... and our payment for services rendered."

Razkar allowed himself a small, tight smile that touched his eyes but not for the reason the human perhaps thought. He was just wondering if this man had ever heard a Myrian speak so eloquently. Then he held up a hand, forestalling the next question as his mind turned his last statement over, whispering a flaw in his rhetoric.

"But... I understand if you wish to keep some things vague. This city has been scarred and changed forever in recent days. Men killed... men displaced... whole layers of society shuffled and even fractured..." He gestured to the world beyond the rain-lined window. "... no more so than in the Quarter. In such times, a man needs to know who to trust... and if not trust, at least whom he can reliably buy."

[Edreina]

To say that Edreina was wary of the stranger would be an understatement. Naturally trusting though she was, there was something unnerving out the man's speech patterns and the way that it did not lilt where she felt that should have. It was very nearly eerily calm. This led her to study him more carefully, eyes narrowing as her fingers started a steady tapping on her thigh.

Like the gentle, lapping waves of the Suvan, repetitive motions soothed her and calmed her mind. The steady tap-tap-tap of her finger gave her thoughts a measured pace instead of letting them run rampant. Each detail of the man's visage started to be logged and categorized before she began to analyze them and relate how they fit together.

First, and foremost, was his voice. Originally, it was what drew her nerves into a tizzy and after a tick she understood why. This man spoke in the same manner as she had often seen Ignotus do. The possibility of him being a Hypnotist was added to her mental inventory.

But, his general manner seemed to oppose this. The stranger took his time doing what he pleased, that meant he was a man who was rarely pressured by others. So, a leader of something or some group of people, he was or recently had been. The amount of time he spent in silent reflection added to this quickly growing assumption that he held power for those who did tended to have long, drawn out thought processes. When legions of men, women, or both moved on your command, you had to be able to see every path for miles ahead and to foresee any possible troubles so that your company would be prepared. Mr. Albrecht of the Valini caravan had taught her that much. So, with this in mind, she returned to his voice. Were he a leader, he would know how to calm frenzied followers and then inspire them with a single phrase. His motion for them to sit, obviously he had experience with unquestioning obedience.

The more she thought on it, the more this idea was cemented in her mind. A leader had to be able to judge the character of others by their mien. Perhaps, that was what the man was doing as he sat there staring so intently at the redhead and her lover. With this realization, she made no movement to improve herself in his eyes, he would likely see that were he as observant as she assumed. Let him see what he will...

If anything, she wondered what a casual observer would see in her. Would he see the fire in her eyes or the strength in her soul? Hopefully, he would see past her willowy figure and her easy smile. If this man were a leader, the timing indicated that he was the leader of the people seeking to leave Zeltiva. Deep down she hoped he would see her to be strong enough to serve as an asset to his endeavor.

When he spoke again, of their possible mutual friends, she fought the urge to purse her lips. He was a public face. It made more sense now that she knew, but the idea of him being a leader had been more logical to her. Perhaps Razkar and I are not the only ones with secrets. Thus the possibility remained cemented in her mind.

Abruptly, a cold fist of fear caught hold of her heart, squeezing gently. While Razkar was a warrior in his prime, she was not the warrior that they pretended she was. If somehow this stranger could see this and pick up on it, there was no way he would risk his endeavor by bringing her along on pay. The Greenrise are my people. If worst comes to worst, I can take work as a deck hand... There was no need to fear... no matter what happened she would be with him.

For the most unusual moment, Edreina became a mite uncomfortable at the mention of her podname. Where normally a hint of pride would enter her eyes, this time there was an uncertainty. How long had it been, she wondered, since last she truly lived with her pod? Even before Razkar, she had been keen on hopping along on whatever journey another pod was bout to embark on; even then she ended up off and exploring on her own. For the first time in her life, Edreina questioned how worthy she was of her own name. Wandering Tide would fit me better... A pain lanced through her chest at the statement's validity, but, alas, truth was truth.

The Myrian's shifting beside her regained her attention on the moment, snapping blue eyes back into sharp focus. Where she had Hypnotism to get a job done, Razkar had natural skill and experience. He had, after all, negotiated countless deals such as these in the past. So, she listened, finger resuming its steady tempo upon her thigh as she took in his methods, his means and his mode of operation.

Razkar's use of bringing back to mind each danger that now faced those who wished to leave along with the strife they had already endured was brilliant to Edreina. When one started to think with their heart, decisions were easier. The only part she worried over was his last comment and, in an instant, words were leaving her full lips unbidden. "Coin only goes so far, Razkar. I'm sure that this man worries about how easily we could be bought out and turned against him." She did not lean forward when speaking to the duo, instead remaining in her relaxed position against the back of the chair, long legs crossed out before her. This way, she figured, she appeared to be more keen upon the entire conversation and all of its elements instead of the minute details that left each man's mouth.

Everyone had their tells, and Edreina's happened to be a curious cock of the head. "As I am sure Mr. Wallis has already told you, I assured him that Razkar and I are some of the most loyal steel-swingers you're likely to find. He would not have found you and wasted your time if he did not believe you. Razkar is able to lead others, as I'm sure you've heard; he's a man hardened and honed by time in Myri's army. Right now, you have a scrappy bunch of men looking to earn fame and coin. Under Razkar, you're more likely to make it to your destination intact." And, with that, the odd redhead had naught else to say. This business was best handled by men more experienced, but she was fatally unable to keep herself from inserting her two-Mizas when the need arose.

(c) Wanda Endust

[Eldritch]

The hooded man listened to the pair as they would speak, allowing them to draw their own conclusions and fill in the air with their own thoughts. When they finished he seemed to be thinking for a moment, for why else would he remain silent. After some minor deliberation he seemed to be satisfied with something and reached up to grip the sides of his hood, moving to pull it back.

"Its only polite to respond with given names with one's own." He said idly.

The shroud covering his face fell revealing a younger man, unnaturally handsome and drawing to the eye. His expression was that of a patient and compassionate man, calm and ever accepting. His dark eyes were filled with the same compassion, though something else almost indescribable was found within.

"My name is Justus, current voice of the Denvali by the grace of Ignotus Everto." He said simply, reclining easily back in his chair.

"It is not I who wishes to leave the city, however, though I suppose you might have come to that conclusion logically. Rather it is a group of unfortunates caught up in the wake of Adarin's mess that need protection." He stated at length.

He regarded Edreina specifically, gazing into her eyes for longer that was needed though he simply nodded to himself again. Whoever Justus was he obviously had a way of inferring thing with very little spoken words being shared. His eyes always seemed to indicate that he understood something, even if he didn't directly know everything about it. His gaze was captivating and no doubt a lesser woman might very well have been taken in by it.

"I do not doubt your trustworthiness, nor your ability in combat. Wallis would only send for me if he was certain of your character. Payment is no issue, my ill fortuned friends do still possess some money to their names. It is not only they I am concerned with, rather it is you." He said, turning his captivating gaze to Razkar.

"These individuals are the family members of the ill minded followers Adarin took with him on his short lived Coup. Assisting them could be viewed by some circles as... threatening to put it lightly." He inferred.

He didn't appear overly concerned with the fact that he, himself, was assisting these individuals. The pair could glean whatever they wanted from that, he obviously was not inclined to share. His concern with two complete strangers might come off as odd, but given who he was it could be interpreted several different ways. Another thing about his words was that while he hadn't said no to their services, he hadn't said yes either.

[Razkar]

Well, shyke... that changed quickly...

Razkar was far from an actor or a troupe player, like the kinds he'd seen strutting in Syliras, in garish wigs and booming with self-importance, but he'd been in enough of these situations to know when to keep his face impassive and professional.

Three. Three situations. Haev Provedan and Leo Valini... and, well... technically, this one. Goddess, he hoped Edreina wasn't hoping he was some kind of... negotiator. But, ah, that was the surprise, wasn't it?

When she'd spoken so crisply and sharply, Razkar had turned his head slightly her way, quirked his lips a touched as if in thought and then nodded his agreement. At least, that's what it looked like: in reality, he had to keep his lips occupied somehow, lest they break into a grin.

She did not lean forward obsequiously at his side. Nor did she hurry her words on the end of his, tinging them with desperation. She spoke as a partner in his enterprises, calm and cool and-

As an equal. More of Myri's Children in that one than she knows.

But that was humdrum compared to the surprise coming next. The hood was shrugged off a full head of hair, not a graying pate, and the elder statesman Razkar had been expecting was replaced by...

Matthew. I swear to the gods, I thought Matthew had followed us here.

The human was that attractive: almost as if by design. As calm and commanding in his presence as any noble or merchant prince, but Razkar was surprised to see a softness in his eyes; a weakness, if one saw it that way, for those in need and in danger.

Justus. Razkar would have scoffed at the name, but then he saw his eyes.

More words followed, and Razkar drank them down. This man of rank and accomplishment was still not, apparently, the one at the end of the chain: that would be this "Ignotus" character. Razkar had long since understood that power was in fact the ability to empower others: if "Everto" could make a man the voice of an entire people and city quarter, that was power.

Still, you've dealt with underlings before, and that does not mean they're bereft of all power. Besides, this one? Not your typical front-man, like that pompous copper-miza thespian in Syliras...

Someone else was named, but Razkar did not recognize it. Their contract was beginning to take shape, and the Myrian's jaw tensed to ask further questions, when-

Deep, seductive brown eyes slid from him to the Svefra. Looked at her long and hard, drinking her down like a fine wine, imagining trysts and rendezvous the likes of which Cheva would blanch at.

Justus most likely didn't, of course. But try telling that to a jealous male whose jaw suddenly clamped down hard on itself and had to resist the urge to put his thumbs through the human's eyes.

Calm down, he told himself, whispering some sense to himself, perhaps he's just impressed, as you were. Let him look, if he wants. She's in our bed; not his.

Then the conversation and those piercing eyes swung back to Razkar... and found a pair of ebony coals that such smoldering looks (no pun intended) would neither thaw nor chill. Razkar's brow furrowed little by little as he processed more information. Family members? Well, that made sense, in as much as he understood warfare.

Anyone protecting them would have to deal with those who wanted to, shall we say, terminally and preemptively stymie any possibility of them coming back to retaliate for their loved ones in the future. If they had coin enough to purchase mercenaries, they had enough to order them to kill, not just protect.

Razakr blinked, and thought it the Myrian way, too: you obliterate your enemy. Children grow to warriors; females produce more of them and the elders possess knowledge and wisdom.

Your enemy is defeated when he is destroyed, quoth the grizzled and merciless instructors of Taloba, and can never rise to challenge you again...

Razkar understood that... but he wasn't sure he liked being on the losing side. That meant those with funds, connections and access to armed men, lots them, could decide to bring them all to bear on Razkar and his hapless, fleeing charges. The Myrian was a warrior, true, but he'd become a sellsword as a necessity, and life with Haev Provedan's sellsword regiment had taught him the cardinal rule of all mercenaries.

Dead mean don't spend shyke. If it comes down to your life and the job, cut it loose and run. Warriors die heroic deaths; sellswords die in brothels.

Razkar realized that chimes had passed. He blinked and just like that, the time had gone and he could see Justus' own stare and feel Edreina's on his back. He breathed slowly, steadily by the lantern-light, then leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees.

"Whom are you expecting to try their hand against these people?" As he'd said before, he didn't intend to mince words. Razkar may have had a brain and his subtleties, but even he would fast admit the Shorn Skulls made warriors, not philosophers of speech-writers. He wanted and needed answers. "I have heard that Sunberth is the world's arsehole, but but the way you speak... you're not just hiring sellswords to protect people from cutpurses and petty bandits. You're expecting trouble."

He paused, searching that flawless face for some sign or hint of emotional investment. Ha, the second was a folly: Justus cared for all. That was his strength and his curse. As he waited, Razkar straightened back up and shrugged slightly.

"But you speak with the power of authority behind you, in the name of... Everto, wasn't it? Then surely those who would assail them are the losers of this coup?"

A new thought came into his mind, and much as he tried to stamp it down, reminding himself that the job was what mattered, the principals and keeping them alive, not the background story, Razkar could not stop his head cocking to one side and his eyes taking on a rapier-like piercing point.

"Unless... you work behind his back? Perhaps..."

He stopped himself before "against him" could be spoken. That would have been going so far; enough to have the Waveguard arrest them, if someone of sufficient power got word of it. Razkar knew even without it, his words were a mistake, or could prove to be. But when you stripped a man down to his secrets and his fears, if he had any, you got to the truth of things, and based on that, you could make a decision.

[Edreina]

As the hood fell away, Edreina had no trouble keeping her expression mostly neutral, only her eyes betrayed her vague interest. He was... disconcertingly pretty, reminding her of the harlot Matthew in Syliras. A full head of glinting hair sat upon a crown with more regal bearing than any king, complimented by gently shaped facial features that, in her opinion, would be capable of infinite minuscule expressions. That also seemed to reinforce her idea that he may be a Hypnotist when paired it with the amount of emotion he managed to encapsulate in his eyes; they were warm and caring and seemed to be trying to draw her in. But, again, he was too pretty. It led her to believe that he had never had to work for anything in his life which marred any attraction she may have held for him. Instead, she merely regarded him as yet another wizard and hoped that he would sit there wondering her skills and proficiency. Best not show her hand too early. Razkar's trade was as visible as the scars marring his form, being oddly enigmatic was Edreina's greatest strength at times.

Ignotus Everto. Twas a man she was wary of, curious of, and admired all at once despite having only met him once and briefly. Ignotus was the man who had helped her the night before after she had idiotically rushed into a burning building to save a child and now he was being spoken of as if he carried some sort of power in Zeltivan society. If so, she should have been a bit more wary of him for she knew not how he came to attain such power. Then again, he had helped her and asked nothing in return, he could easily be a benevolent ruler. "...by the grace of Ignotus Everto." was a loaded statement with a variety of possible interpretations ranging from respect that was well earned or beaten in or a sardonic attempt at showing respect. In any case, both men woke her curiosity.

Thinking back to the fire, Edreina was reminded of how foolish and reckless she had been, rushing in without a second thought or even some semblance of a plan. Lucky for her, she had managed to live through the fire and to clean off all the soot before returning to Razkar. He would have tied her down to the bed (and not in the good way) and refused to let her leave until she promised to be a bit smarter in the future.

When Justus (she silently wondered if his name was fitting of his behavior, if perhaps a sense of doing right for others drove his organization of this plot) turned to her, gazing at her long and slow, obviously appraising her, blue eyes stared right back just as steadily. She may not have had his skill of appraisal without words, but she would not give him an empty slate to judge. A small, thoughtful smile tugged at her lips, and light danced in her eyes. She hoped that he would see her curiosity and her tenacity, but not her penchant for dismissing any forethought.

His next statement was mildly worrisome, but it was settled in her mind after a few ticks. No matter what a sellsword did, they would end up angering someone and making enemies with others. You just had to hope that you had enough skill to survive it and that the pay would make it all worth it. If this opportunity was even half as important as Justus made it sound, there was no doubting that the pay would be worth it. Her fingers laced together as she rested her hands upon her flat stomach, settling to watch the two men settle the rest.

Razkar's summing up of the condition of Sunberth brought a surprised, snorting laugh from Edreina. She had heard little of the city, but that about covered everything that she had heard. An apologetic hand gesture followed the laugh and she settled back in her seat, eyes still glinting merrily. It seemed as if even in a serious situation, Razkar managed to find a speck or two of humor to extort.

(c) Wanda Endust