Descending into Judgment Valley

by **Aerer** on September 2nd, 2014, 5:49 am

Aerer - Late evening.

Sunberth, 1, Fall, 514 A.V

This all began with a left hook and a sense of entitlement.

It was all quite sudden, the old codger moved with a ferocity that Aerer had severely underestimated. His meager frame stumbled out through the exit like a fly being swatted out of the air. Fingers clutched the apex of his nose as blood continued oozing through banded digits. With a furrowed brow he glanced up at his assailant, Merv. The proud owner of The Pigs Foot scowled at him from the doorway, daring him to make the next move.

“Look, friend, I just thought a few tables and chairs were getting in the way of my ale deliveries. I meant no disrespect, just looking to be more efficient here. Course I can under....”

An annoyed grunt from Merv as he turned his back and re-entered his tavern. The rickety back door shuddered as it closed leaving Aerer alone with a few of the more seedy patrons. They were hungry for what they considered an easy mark and a few began to close in. Grinning like a cheshire cat and fueled by the refined purity of watered down ale Aerer found his feet and brandished a wickedly crude blade.

“One of you might get a few coin, but a few might lose a few limbs in the process. Are we sure we want to gamble like that tonight, children? Hrm?”

There was a murmur of displeasure, a smattering of swindlers hungry for blood or simple money. Perhaps a few of them had a score to settle that he himself was unaware of. Truthfully he found it difficult to keep track of all the petty details. Adrenaline shot through his veins and clamored for action and a well placed (though some might argue lucky) swing found its mark, causing one of his would be muggers to crumple in front of him. The ambitious maneuver shifted his weight in the opposite direction and he later found himself musing over how close he had been to losing a limb himself.

More vulgar taunts and slurred movements from the dark. His previous idle threat did not seem to be dissuading his new friends as he had hoped. Coming to the realization that a quick retreat was in order he feigned left before bolting right, bare feet padding against the dusty barren streets of the evening. Fleeing in Sunberth was not always as easy as it was in Alvadas and the perplexing street directions were causing an unnecessary amount of irritation. Sweat perspired from forehead and neck, drenching his well worn clothes and a constant reminder that he should've worn his armor tonight. The problem was, tonight wasn't any sort of job. Tonight was meant to be a night of drinking, of gambling and high spirits. Where were the attractive lasses to ogle and endless ale to consume? Where was his night of adding a pinch to his drink or finding a particular enthusiastic seller of Funkus? The goddess Nikali was really letting him down lately. This entirely long trip to reach Sunberth was letting him down.

A quick turn down another unknown alleyway, Aerer sheathed his weapon and hoisted himself up to the roof of one of the smaller buildings. A terrible hiding spot? Certainly, but the voices behind him were already faint and muffled and as the adrenaline wore down he couldn't find the energy to continue down random streets when he wasn't even sure which direction home was. Not that making it home would resolve much. An ramshackle building that fit in with the rest of this hellhole, a bed crawling with bugs and trash and junk scattered along the floor like the sky had opened up and rained debris.

As silence reigned over the area once more, Aerer crept a bit higher atop the building for a better look. After tonight, its time to find something more worth my time. He declared. No more reckless fights and needless risks. His mood drastically improving as he inched a bit higher. Maybe find a group to join, rise up in the ranks, find the bigger payouts, be a leader. He couldn't spot anyone, or at least no one seemed to be hot on his trail. Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow is the beginning of my rise to the top.

It was at that time that part of the roof decided to give in and dropped Aerer into the building below.

by **Aerer** on September 4th, 2014, 8:07 pm

Aerer – Late, late evening. Emerging from the rubble.

Sunberth, 1, Fall, 514 A.V

This was a unique occasion. This was the first time he could recall feeling disappointed about lying on his back in a strangers bedroom.

Those ocean blue eyes slowly took time adjusting to the shadows, a reluctant recovery of sight and sound after the unanticipated drop. A crudely built table sat silently in the corner, nails jutting out of each side like an oddly devised torture machine. A window on the west wall, an entrance Aerer really wished he would've chosen, had a dark cloth draped over it which obscured the evening sky. Finally the individuals bed which lined the southern wall and piled atop it was a load of dirty clothes. The rest of the room was decisively barren.

The owner seemed to be surprisingly absent, either out for a night of work, mischief or drinking and for that Aerer was grateful. Alcoholism had cushioned the fall, transferring the pain and soreness to the following morning. His attempts to sit up were rejected, however, and his body sent a signal requesting a few minutes of respite.

Aerer briefly thought of home, of Alvadas and the endless hours of wandering its endless streets. Each new turn into an alleyway was like a fresh piece of parchment and a sharpened quill, begging you to fill the page with any story you dared. Sunberth, instead, granted you the sight of a slightly decaying body - and that was the best scenario. He reached for his water skin, raised it to a proper height and drank like a dying animal might.

You don't want to go home, do you? Aerer questioned, a self interrogation. Sunberth was opportunity. It was that shining golden Miza on the ground that everyone clamored for and only the bravest and strongest earned. Its just a bit of bad luck, it'll pass and you'll have your day in the sun. His stomach argued loudly for food, noting in particular that it would prefer something meat oriented. You're no quitter. He tried his hand at standing up once more, managing enough to rock himself to a sitting position. Exhaling a held breath of air, he pressed fingers lightly against his eyelids. Not a quitter, just exhausted. Another protesting rumble from his gut. Exhausted and hungry. Exhausted, hungry and wanting a petching game of bones. Perhaps he could gamble some coin down at the Blood Pits again. He wondered if Wailing Jones was still a rising hopeful. Now that man knew how to murder someone with gusto!

While Sunberth had been called home for nearly two seasons at this point, the recent dry spell of job requests was a mounting concern. Can't make money off Wailing Jones if you don't have the coin to do so. he murmured with conviction. Another grunt, a soft whine of displeasure (which he would also vehemently deny) and soon Aerer was stumbling about the bedroom like a ship traversing Desperation Bay. He stumbled over to the clothes. A quick inspection revealed no extra coin in the squalid apparel and only loose nails were to be aquired at the desk. Another thirsty swig of water from the skin as he brokenly lurched towards the main room.

The main room was equally disappointing at first glance. A few copper edged mizas left on a desk felt like he was robbing a child’s piggy bank. His love of gambling and drink convinced his conscious it was nothing of the sort. The rest of the room was desolate and depressing, the bare minimum to constitute an existence. Another poor soul of Sunberth.

The entrance door suddenly swung open.

His awkward stumble to try and hide felt like a rabid animal kicking about a glass shop. Ovek's favor! The idiot stood blankly at the entrance way, roasted up on some low class substance and contemplating whether this was the right house. Perhaps it wasn't? He doubted he would have any luck squeezing out any additional coin from the junkie. Aerer slowly stood and shouldered past the man with a nonchalant “Pardon me.”

He hoped the addict would appreciate the newly added window.

by **Aerer** on September 8th, 2014, 8:04 pm

Aerer – 2 Bells. 2 Chimes. Much too early.

Sunberth, 2, Fall, 514 A.V

Bartender? No, shykes sails, this is hopeless.

It had only seemed proper to stumble into another bar after having survived swan diving through some poor drug fiends dilapidated ceiling. The walls were covered in burn marks and crawling with black insects that twisted and rooted themselves amongst the gaps. The few patrons still around were unkempt, dirty things that slumped against the walls and shadows, hidden much like the bugs that crowded the walls. The smell was unpleasant but not unbearable, like burnt hair that had been scrubbed away in the sea. At least the ale was cheap, though the wooden mug leaked and forced him to down drinks hurriedly rather then at his own leisure.

Slaver? Gods, that'd require some effort. Plus that might ebb on the ol' conscious a bit. The overall concept seemed solid and lucrative but he knew better then to believe it would be painless. No, he needed to find something straightforward and within his current talents. “More ale!” he clamored. The bartender or bar wench always seemed to disappear into the floorboards the moment he looked away. “and gods take you, hurry up with it already.”

Loud, abrasive cries rang out above him in the floor above, thumping and carrying on unabashed. The caterwauling was vague enough to be found either pleasant or undesired and Aerer wasn't in the mood to try and decipher which was the correct observation. Some of the burnt soot from the ceiling shook loose and discharged across his left shoulder. All these rumors, this fear and panic amongst Sunberth. Gangs, fights, slaves, murders, and mayhem. How can that be advantageous? He flicked his tongue lightly against the back of his teeth, idly monitoring a homeless urchin begging for loose coin and squeezing out little from the crowd. He imagined it was like squeezing blood from a stone. Everyone was hurting for miza these days. Eventually the little runt found its way over to him.

“Eh, little cur, is Wailing Jones still over at the pits?”

The boy nodded eagerly, holding up a can to toss change in.

A hint of a smile coiled across his lips, raising a silver miza up and extending it so it was just resting above the tip of the can. He cleared his throat and stared intently at the boys eyes.

“You think hes going to continue winning?”

“E's the best, ser. You'll make your money back an' then some iffen ya can find someone willing to take bets. Most places wont, anymore. Losing too much money on him they says.”

The silver coin slipped through his fingers and gripped lightly in his palm which was then replaced with a hidden copper miza he had also been holding. He dropped that into the can gingerly, ruffing up the kids unwashed hair with his other hand.

“There's a good lad. Now go on. Get.”

The serving wench returned, hardened calloused hands dropping a leaking mug to his table with an audible grunt. He scowled but took the drink and downed it as fast as he was capable. He liked to imagine Nikali would find it a sin to waste any alcohol and offered a small mantra to her as he consumed the beverage. Information Broker. Now that'd be something useful. An uncouth belch, he wiped the back of his face with his arm. That's the job for me.

He ordered one more letting the gears in his head turn, the operation slowly piecing together in his mind.

by **Aerer** on September 12th, 2014, 6:59 pm

Aerer – 4 Bells. 22 Chimes. - Sleep.

Sunberth, 2, Fall, 514 A.V

There were nights of drinking that left him feeling numb and relaxed and then there were nights where gallivanting towards home, down the dangerous streets of Sunberth while reciting poetry from his childhood seemed like a healthy decision.

This was one of the latter nights.

Oh Brethren,
who can hear my song.
Who tremble then quell
at the last fading light.
Who hear the whispers,
though may not understand them fully.
Who bend and sway
as our stories unfold.

He knew the streets could be fatal. That’s why Aerer logic dictated that his sword was to be unsheathed and brandished at each and every alleyway entrance. Recklessly, drunkenly stumbling; a boisterous voice and a sharp edge, the bad decisions continued compounding upon bad decisions. Sometimes, however, the gods looked after the simple ones. Sometimes it was so late that it ended up being early and everyone looking for blood had long since gone home to sleep. Sometimes it wasn't worth questioning the why and instead consider how wonderful it was to arrive at the dilapidated shelter he called home. Lets hope there was no impromptu additions made to my hovel. His voice broke apart the silence once more.

This one dares sing
amongst the cacophony of night.
Quiet and mournful
while the darkness hooks,
claw and tear,
stirring the ancient things
which feast upon flesh and bone.
This one dares sing,
then to fleeing;
slip and stagger,
but advancing.

The door swung open wildly after some resistance and he stumbled in, lucid enough to both shut and lock himself in before letting his weapon clatter to the ground. Tomorrow, my beginnings as an information broker. He declared, still not entirely clear on how one initiated that sort of job. Digging for information, a little intimidation and some exchange of coin seemed like a good start. But thats all tomorrow. For now, sleep. An unanticipated belch, his legs wobbling as if a landsman leaving Baroque Bay for the first time he toppled towards the bed. The final verse was released in a mumble, the only audience being the grubby pillow he nestled into.

Through underbrush and mire
while claws and teeth
sharpened from splenetic souls
follow intently.
They hear of a feast tonight.
They call others.
They taste the air
and sample what they deserve.
Soon they will devour
and keen their lamentations
to the gods who have forsaken them.

Aerer slept. Or at least he aimed to. Tossing and turning he dreamt of Lhex: unreadable, impassive, forcing a decision of unlife upon Aerer despite his wishes to return. A cacophony of voices wailed and howled, tearing at his skin. He awoke, miserable, feeling as if he had only secured a chime of sleep. The voices fussed on in his head, or were they outside? Stumbling up and grabbing his discarded weapon, Aerer headed outside once more despite the urge to fling himself right back into bed.

by **Avarice** on September 26th, 2014, 3:49 pm

Succumb to Your Desires
.

Aerer :

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Solo Descending into Judgment Valley