Silence Broken (Markus Andres)

[Kechaiya]

Timestamp: Fall 10th, 514 AV Location: Sunset Quarter Time of Day: Around the 9th Bell Kechaiya was knelt studiously in front of hearth, waiting for the water in the pot to boil, a single potato ready in hand. Her stomach was rumbling, and this would be her meal for the day. The surface of the water was broken by a single bubble rising, followed by another, and another, until eventually it was churning. Smiling, she dropped her treasure into the pot, then crouched back on her haunches. She waited, ebony eyes constantly watching the potato turn over and over. When she felt enough time had passed, using her eating knife, she skewered her potato, and pulled it out of the water, and onto the plate she had at her side. Kechaiya then stood, went over to the table, and sat down. And there she waited for it to cool, stomach consistently reminding her of its longing. A few chimes later, she picked up her fork with her left hand, and speared the end of the potato. Then, eating knife in the right hand, unceremoniously sawed through the tuber. She brought the single morsel to her mouth, and found it nice and fluffy and hot and delicious. The next bite, not so much. It had all the nice qualities on the outside, but the center was still hard. But she ate it anyways, reminding herself to cook it longer next time. Full enough and content, Kechaiya took the moment to simply listen to the crackling fire and boiling water. Then there was a massive thud against her door, so hard, she thought the hinges were going to pop. She heard a man grown, and what sounded like him sliding down the wood. Grabbing her dagger, she moved as quietly as she could to her door, unlatched it, and eased it open to peek out and down. There certainly was a man slumped against her door, staring down at the dagger protruding from his left shoulder. He groaned, never even looking up at her. Kechaiya looked up out at the street, seeing many men in all out war with one another. The sounds of battle were now registering, hearing screaming, growling metal on metal or wood. She knew if she went out there, she could end up dead, but she couldn't have this man just laying against her door, it would be dreadfully inconvenient. She crouched down and in a whisper, in her very broken Common, "Man dying. I heal you. You give me mizas." His head lolled off to the side, eyes gazing up at her, as if he couldn't believe her. "Petch off." She then showed him the dagger in her hand, concealed behind the wall. "I heal you. You give me mizas. No? You die here." The man paled, either from fear or blood loss, Kechaiya couldn't be sure. But, with his right hand, he reached down to his belt, grabbed a pouch that jingled, and handed it to her through the doorway. Kechaiya snatched it, went and hid it with the rest of her coin, not bothering to count it, for it didn't really matter to her. She crouched down by her cracked door once again. "I open door slowly, pull you inside. Be quiet. Will hurt." She slowly edged the door inward, the man slumping down lower and lower, until the door was finally open and the man laid upon his back. "You push with legs." Slipping her small hands into his armpits from behind, she strained to raise him up even a little bit. She started to walk backwards, and with his aid, began to drag him in. It was quite an effort, dragging him until his feet cleared the door. She stood up, moved to close it, when it stopped, just before shutting. It was then pushed open hard, brushing her back. Her eyes fell on a really large man wielding a really large axe, dripping blood. He was grinning, his eyes locking on hers like a predator who had just cornered an easy prey. "I came back for my knife, and look what I find. I'm going to enjoy this." He began to lumber closer and closer to the small woman, who was brandishing her dagger. When he got close enough, she stabbed out at him, only for him to smack the blade from her hand, then backhand her, sending her sprawling into the table. She was seeing stars, her body hurting from the impact. The large man continued to lumber toward her, chuckling all the while.

[Markus Andres]

When the knight had not thought the city could become any worse, they began to actively prove him wrong. Hunting Dhani for treasure. Pry it from their limbs like ravenous wild dogs starved for seasons. The cruelty and selfishness that the city harboured was incredible. Beyond the scope of him to ever truly understand the depth of their depravity. The thoughts of wiping the city from the map became more appealing the longer he spent in the city. Let the city be consumed in a firestorm of unseen magnitude and burn away all the filth and sin that festered within the city.

Emerald eyes opened as the wrath rolled through his veins. His family still missing. He was still stuck in the city. Weather was getting colder and if he did not hurry up he'd be stuck in the city through winter. The men had seemed desperate during summer, he could only imagine it getting worse as food got even sparser in the winter months. He sighed lowly. He felt powerless in the city. Powerless to change the poverty and rampant violence that swept through the city on occasion. Kvist moved down the street. Emerald eyes lingering on every figure, trying to determine their intent. The risk of them attacking him for whatever perceived reason. Perhaps to get his weapons, perhaps for the off chance he carried a large pouch of gold. Perhaps to beat him down and sell him into slavery. Most of those reasons alone could drive the most desperate men to test him.

Kvist turned a corner to move down a street to get further into the city. His destination was the hot springs. To ask the knights in hiding if they had heard anything new. He could have used Web and her extended network for that, but despite trusting the woman he didn't enjoy only having a single source to work with. At least they had improved his and S'Essy's safety by allowing them to live in their house.

The knight stopped dead in his tracks. Eyes focused upon the next intersection. Noise. Yells of pain and anger. Wailing men and screams of terror as people fled. Kvist swallowed hard as his hand found the hilt of the peacekeeper. Had the nonsense begun again? Had the warriors of the street begun their self-destructive war? The cold iron weapon was brandished in his right hand as he made his way to the corner and he peeked out. Men fighting amongst one another. Some injured. Some dying. He saw a woman by a door, a glimpse before she pulled an injured man inside. A good Samaritan or an opportunist? The knight was stunned, didn't know what to do. He couldn't enforce the peace here, he'd only become a target and there were too many in the fight. He took a deep breath as he wondered what this spat was about. Territory? Blood feud? A large man brandishing an axe stood by the door he had seen the woman by. He forced it open and Kvist knew what would happen. Execution. Rape. Mutilation or worse?

It took Kvist a moment to realize he had moved. That he was out in the open in full sprint towards the door. Straight through the middle of the gang war he sped. Legs pumped furiously under him to reach the door in time. He could let these men kill one another all day along, but not threaten those who did not partake. Right shoulder slammed into the door. Breaking him to a halt. Saw past the brute, saw the woman against the table. She seemed to be in pain. He had been too slow.

"You asshole!" He screamed as he moved to attack the man. Left hand held on to the sword. Going two handed style as he was missing his familiar shield. Even without it, he was sure he could take care of one lousy Sunberthian lumberjack. Kvist leapt forward, thrust the blade forward at his right shoulder. Pierce the bone and tissue. Destroy his ability to use the right arm. Remove the threat so Kvist might destroy the man at his leisure..

OOCI apologise for the slowness of my reply. I hope it is okay if I let you control the brute/brutes.

[Kechaiya]

Kech's hand wiped some of the blood trickling from her lip, her other arm supporting herself weakly on the table. Her ebony eyes were glaring daggers at the man, only making him smile wider. She glanced at pot of water on the fire, but he'd seen her turn her head, slamming a powerful arm palm first into her table, blocking her way. She could see her dagger, but it was on the far side of the room and therefore about as useful as a dead Tsana in the room. Her eyes were brought lower as he started to fumble with his belt.

Then her door exploded open yet again, though this time the top hinge snapped off, causing the door to hang at an awkward angle. There was a large, sword-handed man with hair of straw standing there, a look on his face that Kech thought made him look dumb. Probably a rival gang member or sellsword. Her assumption of his mental capacity was 'confirmed' as he yelled a simple insult, then charged the man, who had just finished turning around to see what had happened. He raised his axe, but far too slow as the sword pierced through his shoulder deep, the point coming out the back as Kechaiya could now see. The man dropped the axe, which looked like what woodcutter might use to fell a tree, thudding against the wood loudly. Kech reached out for it, gripping it after a moment's hesitation, and stood up. She raised it over her head, and tried to swing it at the back of the man's head. And missed. By a lot. The handle of the axe struck him weakly in his uninjured collarbone, and forced itself from her hands, heading in her savior's direction.

Having failed so miserably in her swing, she found the momentum forcing her to the floor just barely catching herself with her hands, sending shooting pain up through her arms. The man swung backwards blindly at his unseen attack, throwing himself off balance by not contacting anything but air. This did force his right heel to kick backwards into Kech's ribs, knocking her on her side painfully, a gasp of pain escaping her lips. This forced him to trip, stumble, and plunged face first toward her hearth. His head clipped the stone, then splashed down into her cooking pot, already unconscious. Kech was gripping her side in agony from his boot had struck, paying no mind to the man who had arrived to save her.

[Markus Andres]

The powerful primal yell did its trick to turn the man away from the woman before something horrible happened to her. Kvist guided Peacekeeper past the defensive stroke of the man's axe. It went deep and Kvist smiled darkly at this. Happy that he was ending this vile blight on the city. Glad that he could save the woman behind him from the brutes, assumed, unprovoked attack. He was fully focused on the man, saw the axe drop and knew that in a few moments Kvist would undo this man and summon Dira to carry him away. Withdraw the blade, bring it across his throat and let him bleed out and die quickly. Check if the woman was okay. Offer healing assistance at the Quay if S'Essy was home. His mind managed to image these things as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. But then something heavy entered his vision. Going at him. At a high velocity. Eyes widened as his right leg collapsed under him. Sent his entire weight down onto the knee. His knee hit the ground hard. Upper body threw itself as low as it could. Still, he felt the handle hit him square in the forehead. His body went back. Arms threw out to cushion his fall. Felt the pull and tug of his thigh as it was stretched out. It was decidedly unpleasant, made worse as the bump on his began to pulsate with pain.

It took him a moment dazed before he blinked. Checked his blade was still in his hand. Both legs kicked away and he slid across the floor. The blade cleared the man's body just as Kvist focused on him again. Heard the agonizing gasp from the woman. He felt the warmth of blood, but he couldn't worry about that now. There was someone to save. To his immense surprise, the brute tripped over the woman. Kvist blinked as the man first managed to crack open his head on the hearth. Then a chuckle as his face went straight into the pot. Judging from the lack of screaming and struggling, the man was out cold. Kvist placed the sword against the ground and used his free hand to push himself back to his feet. Screams from the outside had Kvist placed himself flat against the wall and take a peek out before he slammed the door shut and his focus turned to the woman. Half a thought to outright kill the unconscious man, but it seemed the current predicament was solving that job for Kvist. He sheathed his blade and took a step closer to the woman as he knelt and picked up the axe.

"Hey, are you alright? Miss?"

There was a gentle ooze of blood from where the handle had opened his skin. Right at the hairline above the right eye. Soon his eye would probably be covered in blood, but for now he'd be fine. Only had to return to the Quay to find safety and a healer who could take care of him. It had been the right decision to go to the Quay, much safer than the hot springs. He knelt by the woman holding the axe up before himself.

"Do you always throw axes at those who try to help you?"

He offered her his free hand to help her up.


.

[Kechaiya]

The pain from the boot to her rib was beginning to abate, as Kech took in deep sucking breaths to make it go away completely. That was a good sign that nothing was broken at least. She sat up and began taking in the mess that had been caused. The man with the dagger in his shoulder was still slumped against her wall, with an apparent front row seat to the action. Looking to her right, she saw that the man had somehow ended up face first in her cooking pot. She would have to scrub that petching thing out good, having no desire to eat face stew. Looking toward her rescuer, she saw as he slammed the door shut hard enough to at least lower the bar lock. That was a comfort at least.

As he approached her, she could see he had a small laceration above his right eye, and it was bleeding. It didn't look too severe, but would bleed for a while, and would likely get in the way of his vision. And with the sounds of fighting just outside of her door, he would be needed soon if she had to put her mizas on it. When he asked how she was, "Sore, I fine. Thanks you."

But when he made his joke, in the light of all that had just happened, she couldn't help but let loose the very awkward noise of hers as she laughed, the giggle-snort. She couldn't help herself, and she knew that it was a rather harsh noise on those who didn't know her, which in Sunberth, was pretty much everyone. Responding in kind, "Only axe throw on face stew day," as she took his large, calloused hand and was pulled to her feet. She could already feel the many bruises all over her body starting to form.

The man with the dagger in his shoulder, "Oy... I appreciate the help an' all, but I'm petchin' bleedin' out over here. And that bloke is on fire." Kech looked over and saw that the man in her cooking pot had his arm in the hearth, and the fire was beginning to spread along his shirt and torso. She was unable to move a man of that size, and looked toward her rescuer, "You no let home burn, I fix head, no mizas." The dagger struck man had already paid, so she did have an obligation to treat him, since she wasn't about to return his coin. Moving over to him, "You help move close fire. Need see."

Putting her arms, with his help, once more beneath his armpits, the pair moved across the room, straining and grunting in the process. The pair lifted together to get the man into a chair by the table. Leaving the swordsman to deal with the flaming, cooking gangster problem, she cast her eyes on the dagger wound. It wasn't especially deep, maybe two knuckles deep on her pointer finger. Planning out the process was simple, gather her supplies, pull the dagger out, clean the wound, apply the poultice, sew it up, and bandage.

Looking around, she found her pack with all of her medical supplies on the floor apparently having fallen from the table. There wasn't much in there that was breakable, and since she didn't see any liquid around it, assumed all was fine. Picking it up, she set it on the table next to the man. She pulled out several clean rags and bandages, her sewing kit, her jar of grain alcohol, and a jar that contained an herbal poultice, made of Belltor leaves, Jile berries and bark, and vyfox leaves.

Looking the man in the eye, she gripped the dagger firmly, "No move. I count to thr..." And with one swift movement, yanked the dagger out. It was much easier if the man didn't expect it, so that he wouldn't tense up and cause more damage. The blood started oozing out as expected. The man was cursing and swearing like a stuck horse, but kept the violence to himself, either out of fear of not being treated or fear of the swordsman. Using the dagger she cut away at the fabric around the wound to have a clear working area. Knowing this next bit would be especially unpleasant, she gave a little warning, "This burn lot. No move." Picking up the jar of alcohol, she took the top off, and grabbed a rag with her other hand. She dunked it inside, and pressed it to the wound and the skin around it. The man kept still, but with a lot of effort, hissing and cursing in pain, saying very fowl things about the black eyed demon treating him. When the wound was fairly visible, she poured some of the alcohol directly on it, watching the diluted blood stream down into his ruined shirt.

Placing jar and rag on the table, she grabbed the poultice and scooped a healthy amount on her finger, and jabbed it into the wound. She made sure to line the insides as best as she could, pulling her finger out, wiping it off, and getting some more. She continued this process for a while, until blood was no long pouring out, thanks to the Vyfox leaves, that helped coagulate blood. Cleaning her hands with a splash of alcohol, she pulled out her suturing needle, clamps, small scissors, and thread. After a few tries, she managed to thread it, talking aloud now, "Okay sword-man?"

Eyeballing the hole, she figured one central vertical mattress suture accompanied by two interrupted simple sutures on either side would do the trick. She grabbed the clamps, and used one to pick up the needle, and dipped it in the alcohol. Then with steady hand, she pierced the skin a little bit away from the wound, and curved the needle deep into the flesh. She pushed it across the chasm of the wound, and into the opposite side, before angling it toward the surface. When it broke through, she used her other clamp to pull it up through. She switched it to the original clamp, and stuck it down into the skin, between the exit hole and the wound. This time she sank it down, though not as deep before it bridge the chasm, directly above the previous line. Running it in through the original wall, she brought it up through the skin, and pulled it tight. Holding both ends with one clamp, she set down the other, grabbed the scissors and cut them. Clamps in hand once more, she dunked it in the alcohol, then used them to tie a double square knot with the ends, and snipped off the excess.

When this was done, she prepared to do the simple interrupted sutures when there was another loud bang against the door. "That petcher went in here, I seen him." It sounded as if someone was trying to tackle or kick in her door and she knew her bar lock wouldn't hold up forever. Setting down her equipment, she grabbed her salve, a rag, and a bandage. Speaking to her companion, "You, come. No time good fix." She was going to spread the poultice, wipe the blood from his eye, and get a simple bandage on it so that he could fight while she fixed.