62nd of Winter, 514 AV
19th Bell
Brilliant hues of gold and oranges erupted across the frozen city, lighting the snow that covered the earth in curious illusions of pink. Syna's descent from her reign over Mizahar signaled the arrival of Akajia and the bringing of nightfall over the Sun's Refuge, whose towering walls cast imposing, distorted shadows on those they looked down upon. It was with this gathering of night that the nyctophiliac Myrian ventured through the well protected streets. Dragoons in their heavy armor stood at almost every corner, the others patrolling constantly through their last hold. Every now and then the foreign woman would catch a glimpse of a figure high above in a tower. No doubt they too were scouts acting as eagle eyes for the Sun's Birth, too. Since leaving her beloved disciplined, militant city of Taloba in Falyndar, the Sun's Refuge was the last holding besides Syliras and Ravok she'd explored that firmly held its ground so organized. Once occupants and protectors of the Gated Community in which her employer, Ruby, conducted her business, the gang seemed reduced to no more than a sliver of the territory they once ruled.
Fewer now, maybe, but still a force to be reckoned with, The Myrian thought carefully to herself as she strolled along the cobbles. It had been the second time she'd dared enter through the Dragoon's gates. Each time they hassled her, interrogated her about her intentions and ripped up her sleeves to check for any suspicious markings that implied member to another gang. Though her allegiance was firmly pledged to the Scars, such a detail could never be found through simple questioning and body searches. It hardly mattered, she supposed. Her business in their holdings was not connected to Fallon's interests. This perilous trip was all her own doing. Only Myri herself knew how necessary it was.
Whispers were common among whores. Gossip flitted from one entertainer in Ruby's Scarlet Sanctum to another, between the sheets just as well as between meals. Sleeping with the finer men and women of the wretched city had its merits when it came to information. One harlot had swore to Kaie there was no currency more valuable than that of secrets, and satisfied lovers content within another embrace had a tendency to loosen their lips. Hanging around the right place at the right time when word traveled through the brothel was key. Being one of Ruby's trusted guards certainly had its merits. The sort of information she often unintentionally came across was what led her to seek out the Proving Grounds. Word had it that a pair of half-Myrians led the daily beatings when it came to training. When Kaie had come to test that rumor, she left just as bruised and battered as one might expect. The experience had been nostalgic, and the addiction she possessed for challenge and pain had brought her back. It was too bad she had a tendency to be at the wrong place at the wrong time...
Without warning there was a distant shout somewhere above, the voice too out of range for the woman to make out the words. It seemed to come from the gates. Initially there was no reaction from the Myrian. Only a momentary turn of her head behind her and a pause in her step, but her travelling to the Proving Ground continued thereafter. That's until there was another shout, closer now, and a stampeding of armored Dragoons past her heading in the direction of the call. The crowds within the streets began to scurry, sensing something the jungle-born so alien to Sunberth simply didn't. That's when a head leaned over one of the rooftops and began to holler down to any who would listen.
"Daggerhand! They've stormed through the gates! We're under attack! Daggerhand!"
Kaie turned on her heel then, eyes wide and adrenaline rushing through her veins. Amber eyes spied through the fleeing bystanders the flash of oncoming blades. The sounds of battling weapons and the howls of the fallen began to fill her ears. They're inside the petching walls. Her hand was already on her sword, body frozen in place even as the common folk bumped and rushed past her. One man clad in heavy breastplates and donning a fearsome helm brandished a longsword. An audible growl already built in his throat before he began to roar at those running from the fray.
"Either pick up a bloody weapon and fight those bastards, or get out of our petching way! Let's go!" He led the charge with his squad of Dragoons toward the ensuing war, leaving the Myrian to stare dumbly.
This is not my fight. This is not our war. The Myrian glanced about wildly, taking in the towering walls that surrounded the holdings with a grim expression. Her jaw set rather suddenly and her right hand gave a tug on the sheathed gladius at her hip. But I'm trapped. There's no other choice. And just like that she rushed forward with the other reinforcements, the edge of her blade catching the fading light of the setting sun as she advanced. It was all she could do to hope that in the confusion, the very side she was fighting for wouldn't mistake her lack of armor for a membership with the Daggerhand.
19th Bell
Brilliant hues of gold and oranges erupted across the frozen city, lighting the snow that covered the earth in curious illusions of pink. Syna's descent from her reign over Mizahar signaled the arrival of Akajia and the bringing of nightfall over the Sun's Refuge, whose towering walls cast imposing, distorted shadows on those they looked down upon. It was with this gathering of night that the nyctophiliac Myrian ventured through the well protected streets. Dragoons in their heavy armor stood at almost every corner, the others patrolling constantly through their last hold. Every now and then the foreign woman would catch a glimpse of a figure high above in a tower. No doubt they too were scouts acting as eagle eyes for the Sun's Birth, too. Since leaving her beloved disciplined, militant city of Taloba in Falyndar, the Sun's Refuge was the last holding besides Syliras and Ravok she'd explored that firmly held its ground so organized. Once occupants and protectors of the Gated Community in which her employer, Ruby, conducted her business, the gang seemed reduced to no more than a sliver of the territory they once ruled.
Fewer now, maybe, but still a force to be reckoned with, The Myrian thought carefully to herself as she strolled along the cobbles. It had been the second time she'd dared enter through the Dragoon's gates. Each time they hassled her, interrogated her about her intentions and ripped up her sleeves to check for any suspicious markings that implied member to another gang. Though her allegiance was firmly pledged to the Scars, such a detail could never be found through simple questioning and body searches. It hardly mattered, she supposed. Her business in their holdings was not connected to Fallon's interests. This perilous trip was all her own doing. Only Myri herself knew how necessary it was.
Whispers were common among whores. Gossip flitted from one entertainer in Ruby's Scarlet Sanctum to another, between the sheets just as well as between meals. Sleeping with the finer men and women of the wretched city had its merits when it came to information. One harlot had swore to Kaie there was no currency more valuable than that of secrets, and satisfied lovers content within another embrace had a tendency to loosen their lips. Hanging around the right place at the right time when word traveled through the brothel was key. Being one of Ruby's trusted guards certainly had its merits. The sort of information she often unintentionally came across was what led her to seek out the Proving Grounds. Word had it that a pair of half-Myrians led the daily beatings when it came to training. When Kaie had come to test that rumor, she left just as bruised and battered as one might expect. The experience had been nostalgic, and the addiction she possessed for challenge and pain had brought her back. It was too bad she had a tendency to be at the wrong place at the wrong time...
Without warning there was a distant shout somewhere above, the voice too out of range for the woman to make out the words. It seemed to come from the gates. Initially there was no reaction from the Myrian. Only a momentary turn of her head behind her and a pause in her step, but her travelling to the Proving Ground continued thereafter. That's until there was another shout, closer now, and a stampeding of armored Dragoons past her heading in the direction of the call. The crowds within the streets began to scurry, sensing something the jungle-born so alien to Sunberth simply didn't. That's when a head leaned over one of the rooftops and began to holler down to any who would listen.
"Daggerhand! They've stormed through the gates! We're under attack! Daggerhand!"
Kaie turned on her heel then, eyes wide and adrenaline rushing through her veins. Amber eyes spied through the fleeing bystanders the flash of oncoming blades. The sounds of battling weapons and the howls of the fallen began to fill her ears. They're inside the petching walls. Her hand was already on her sword, body frozen in place even as the common folk bumped and rushed past her. One man clad in heavy breastplates and donning a fearsome helm brandished a longsword. An audible growl already built in his throat before he began to roar at those running from the fray.
"Either pick up a bloody weapon and fight those bastards, or get out of our petching way! Let's go!" He led the charge with his squad of Dragoons toward the ensuing war, leaving the Myrian to stare dumbly.
This is not my fight. This is not our war. The Myrian glanced about wildly, taking in the towering walls that surrounded the holdings with a grim expression. Her jaw set rather suddenly and her right hand gave a tug on the sheathed gladius at her hip. But I'm trapped. There's no other choice. And just like that she rushed forward with the other reinforcements, the edge of her blade catching the fading light of the setting sun as she advanced. It was all she could do to hope that in the confusion, the very side she was fighting for wouldn't mistake her lack of armor for a membership with the Daggerhand.
