28th of Spring, AV 514
Twelfth Bell
Syna glared down upon the docks as the heat pressed against Pulren's shoulders. There was a storm out there somewhere, Zulrav willing, but it could find no purchase. It left a sticky mess everywhere, accentuated with the occasional flashes of heat lightning on the horizon. walking his beat on the docks, the young Guardsman could feel every ounce in his shield and trident as they weighed down on him much like the oppression of the day.
At least he was out in his proper element, Pulren thought to himself. there had been protests over the Lord of Council and the center of the city was a hotbed of political bickering. At least the majority of the conflicts in his actual jurisdiction were more or less easily handled. The heat would have cockles raised, but most things could be straightened out without too much fuss, or so Marsh thought.
The chain shirt he had been gifted for his induction into the Guard rubbed against his skin, still not familiar with such an unnatural material against his previously unfettered flesh. His gaze moved over dockworkers and ships alike, his eyes training on a group of Guardsmen gathered at a ship near the end of the pier. A small sigh left Pulren's lips, half traced with relief and anxiety. Nothing generally went well that required more than one Guard to handle.
As he approached, he found the azure backs of his compatriots surrounding a swarthy man who was bare chested and quite hairy. In the man's hand was a long whip, his eyes as cruel as the lash of leather, no doubt. In between the suspect and his brothers was a young girl, no older than twelve. She was crouched and shaking, a fresh tear across her back, the shirt and her skin opened up to the sting of sweat and Syna's vision. Pulren could feel his usual anger rising up into his chest, but tried to keep it in his mind to have a cool head. On a day like that one, staying cool would be a great feat alone.
Twelfth Bell
Syna glared down upon the docks as the heat pressed against Pulren's shoulders. There was a storm out there somewhere, Zulrav willing, but it could find no purchase. It left a sticky mess everywhere, accentuated with the occasional flashes of heat lightning on the horizon. walking his beat on the docks, the young Guardsman could feel every ounce in his shield and trident as they weighed down on him much like the oppression of the day.
At least he was out in his proper element, Pulren thought to himself. there had been protests over the Lord of Council and the center of the city was a hotbed of political bickering. At least the majority of the conflicts in his actual jurisdiction were more or less easily handled. The heat would have cockles raised, but most things could be straightened out without too much fuss, or so Marsh thought.
The chain shirt he had been gifted for his induction into the Guard rubbed against his skin, still not familiar with such an unnatural material against his previously unfettered flesh. His gaze moved over dockworkers and ships alike, his eyes training on a group of Guardsmen gathered at a ship near the end of the pier. A small sigh left Pulren's lips, half traced with relief and anxiety. Nothing generally went well that required more than one Guard to handle.
As he approached, he found the azure backs of his compatriots surrounding a swarthy man who was bare chested and quite hairy. In the man's hand was a long whip, his eyes as cruel as the lash of leather, no doubt. In between the suspect and his brothers was a young girl, no older than twelve. She was crouched and shaking, a fresh tear across her back, the shirt and her skin opened up to the sting of sweat and Syna's vision. Pulren could feel his usual anger rising up into his chest, but tried to keep it in his mind to have a cool head. On a day like that one, staying cool would be a great feat alone.
