Completed Interventions

The ways of the divines are mysterious.

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This lazy agricultural settlement rests on the swampy shores of the Middle Suvan at the delta of The Kenash River. The River's slow moving bayou waters have bred a different sort of people - rugged, cultured, and somewhat violent. Sprawling plantations of tobacco and cotton grow on the outskirts of the swamp in the rich Cyphrus soils, while the city itself curls around the bayou and spawns decadence and sins of all sorts. Life is slower in Kenash, but the lack of pace is made up for in the excesses of food and flesh in a city where drinking, debauchery, gambling, slavery, and overbearing plantation families dominate the landscape.

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Interventions

Postby Estrellir Konrath on February 26th, 2015, 11:02 am

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Winter 10-12, 514 AV


The beginning of winter brought with it a considerate lull in customers. Everyone was preparing for winter which didn’t necessarily mean snow or even cold like in other regions, but still came with a noticeable drop in temperature and mild drought over the first few days. Estrellir used the time to clean her desk, taste some chocolate flavors the Draer had recently invented and play with her cats.

During one of those days, she was sitting in the chair, Whimsy in her lap and Poppy on the desk before her. While one webbed hand was scratching the sleepy cat behind its ears, the other was waving the feathery end of her quill before the other’s eager eyes. Every now and then, Poppy would lash out at the feather before resuming her post of paralyzed observation. Mell was unusually quiet in the kitchen, making coffee, but taking longer than usual. She understood very well that her mistress didn’t need the stimulant if she wasn’t working. It simply gave the both of them something to pass the time with.

As if Avalis had heard their unspoken prayers, rustling could be heard through the open window and the front door opened. Estrellir immediately lowered the quill and sat up straighter for the woman striding into her bureau left no doubt about her social status. Disappointed, Poppy hopped to the floor and dashed to the kitchen.

Her Konti gift identified the woman as a distant Askara relative. Someone’s sister’s aunt or some such thing. Exceptionally thin and pale, she would’ve posed a good figure in her violet sundress and the cream wide-brimmed hat if not for the wrinkles and age spots. As it was, she merely left the impression of a former beauty that had waned years ago. Her blue eyes honored the Konti with a proud stare as if her appearance told anything about her worth as a detective. In her lap, Whimsy yawned and curled up for a nap.

It was likely that Estrellir still counted more years than her opponent which, once again, reminded her how short-lived humans were. Her eyes, the only part that showed no signs of her age, were lined with kohl and bright blue eyeshadow. Finally, Estrellir collected herself and brought out her polite smile. “Good afternoon and welcome to my detective bureau. Who do I have the honor of meeting and what can I help you with today?”

The woman puffed a little, annoyed at the detective’s lack of knowledge concerning her person. “Greetings… my name is Odella Askara. Before describing the reason for my visit, I must ask. I trust that everything I tell you and everything you find out will be treated with utmost confidentiality, yes?”

Suppressing a grin, Estrellir hurried to give the answer her customer wished to hear. “Of course. Nothing that is discussed here ever leaves these four walls.”

Satisfied, Odella leaned back and sighed. “I am relieved to hear that. Now, I have come hoping you could help me with a problem I have concerning my slave.”

When she didn’t continue, Estrellir began impatiently tapping her finger against her knee under the desk. “Yes?”

“He is my pleasure slave. I paid an exorbitant price back when I purchased him directly from that Radacke, the old shark, and he is perfect in every sense of the word, but…”

“But?” Estrellir supplied again.

“He never reacts. You see, pleasure is a game of give and take. It takes two people to truly enjoy it, but whenever I play it with him… he’s distant. He goes all numb and silent, like a witless doll. I can manage, you know, but it’s less than satisfying in the long run.”

The Konti blinked. For the first time during the interview, Odella had lost her. “What do you wish me to do about that?”

Odella leaned forward and the brim of her hat cast an odd shadow over her wrinkled features. “I have heard about you Konti, about your… sight. Can’t you find out what has happened to make him so indifferent in bed? I’d bet he was raped by a former master, the poor boy… If that’s true, I want you to find out what he likes, how he wants to be treated. I want you to supply me with the knowledge to lure him out of that shell.”

“Ah.” Dumbfounded, Estrellir took a moment to come up with a better reply. “I see. You wish me to investigate his past and find out about his sexual experiences before you bought him.”

Odella gave a firm nod. “Yes, that is what you shall do for me. Money will be no issue.”

Estrellir chose not to comment on that. As a distant aunt or whatever, the woman probably didn’t have the financial resources available to the Head of House and immediate family, but pointing that out would mean disturbing her privacy. “Certainly. Now there’s only one more thing. What do you know about his history as a slave and, if he was captured, about his life before slavery? I will also need his full name.”

With a sigh and a shrug, Odella began. “Well, we call him Churil… or Chocolate, for his skin color. How would I know if he had any other names? I was told he’s a Benshira human, a desert boy. As for his history, like I said, I purchased him from the Radacke. They used him as a house slave before, but he must’ve been captured less than five years ago. That’s all I know.”

Estrellir nodded, although she was rolling her eyes in her mind. It wasn’t much to go by, but it had to be enough. If he’d been a slave for a few years, the name would’ve become his identity. Still, she wasn’t sure if that sufficed for finding his chavi. Once again, she donned the polite smile. “Don’t worry, I can work with that. However, it’ll be necessary to visit again with this slave so I can ask him a few questions. The sooner the better.”

Odella was ready to do so and they agreed to meet again in two days. When she stood (involuntarily removing Whimsy from her lap), Odella did too, showing a reluctant smile for the first time she’d walked through the door. “Thank you, Miss Konrath. We will see each other again when I bring Churil to you in two days.”

After shaking the hag’s bony hand, Estrellir gestured towards the door. “I appreciate it. Have a good day.” And when the Askara had finally left the bureau, she sank back into her chair with a deep sigh. When she dropped her gaze to the floor, Whimsy was staring at her accusingly. “Well, sorry. You know how it goes, the customer is king… By Avalis, I already know this will be exhausting!”
Last edited by Estrellir Konrath on July 23rd, 2015, 11:15 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Estrellir Konrath
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Interventions

Postby Estrellir Konrath on July 21st, 2015, 1:22 pm

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Estrellir decided to use the time between the Askara’s visits to read up on the Benshira and their culture. Different races including human subraces often employed different sexual practices and customs. By visiting the library, she hoped to get to know the slave’s cultural background a little in order to understand his desires and wishes. Furthermore, she supposed familiarizing herself with the mentality and lifestyle of the Benshira would work to her advantage when questioning him.

Payne was greeted with the usual nod and smile before she immersed herself in the section labeled anthropology and cultures. Just from skimming titles, she found a compendium on all Mizaharian races, a book on the desert cultures of Eyktol and a thin journal, probably a travelogue. The latter mentioned the Benshira and their city, Yahebah, several times on the first few pages. She carried those three to a table and began leafing through the first, searching for the Benshira.

The entry on humans was slightly disappointing, however, as it only dedicated one paragraph to each of their subraces. The information on Benshira was slim.


Dark of skin, dark of hair, light eyes always. Nomadic shepherds and traders, most of them travel the Eyktol desert. Capital city: Yahebah. They frequently trade with Eypharians and Chaktawe (see respective entries). Known to be superstitious, welcoming to strangers and generally benevolent. Most popular deity: Yahal.


Having no idea what kind of deity that was, Estrellir made a mental note to read up on Yahal later. Licking her lips, she moved on to the next book and flipped past extensive descriptions of Chaktawe tribes (complete with colorful sketches of painted faces) to the chapter on Benshira.


Their skin is tanned from spending all their lives under the desert sun, their hair is dark. Young men keep their facial hair trimmed, old men sport beards. Their eyes are light shades of blue or green, a feature they are most often recognized by. Both men and women wear long tunics tied at the waist, coupled with coats or shawls. Pieces of fabric are tied around their heads. Furthermore, the women have a taste for scarves with small coins tied to the hems as well as piercing their ears and noses.


Skipping most of the physical description, Estrellir flipped forward to a few paragraphs on social structure. The way they arranged themselves and ensured their survival could tell a lot about a nomadic tribe, she figured.

The author mentioned a guy named Biyram, apparently the very first Benshira, and his ten sons from which all Benshira were descended. Those sons were revered as forefathers of ten tribes which provided the foundation for their social structure. It wasn’t a hierarchy per se, more like a way to define one huge family by its different branches.


All Benshira are advised and led by the Prophet who is appointed by Yahal Himself. This can be a man or woman who has shown exceptional devotion, wisdom and understanding of Yahal’s ways.


Estrellir frowned. Reading about that God without knowing what He stood for began to irritate her.


Under the Prophet who acts as a grand shepherd, the Benshira organize themselves in tribes, descendants of the ten sons of Biyram, and finally in tents, large communities of families traveling together and ensuring survival of the entire tent. If a tent grows too big or problems arise, a new tent is formed. Tents are led by a strong and wise patriarch, usually the oldest man of the family. When a woman marries, she joins the tent of her husband, but stay part of her father’s tribe. Both of which, tent and tribe, are reflected in the name of a Benshira.


The Konti stopped for a moment to rub her eyes and let her gaze wander around the library absentmindedly. She doubted the name ‘Churil’ described any kind of tent or tribe, so the rest of his name must’ve been swallowed by time. Perhaps if he told her of his family and their names, she could read the past in his chavi more easily.

Skimming the next two pages, she came across a short description of their daily life and customs.


Nearly all Benshira make their living as shepherds. They use every part of the sheep they raised and cared for, although they take special pride in the wool and fabric made from it. The latter is sturdy and takes on vibrant colors. Most Benshira keep goats and other livestock as well.

Benshira are punctual to finish their work after sunset. They spend the evenings with their families, drinking, eating, singing and dancing together. Although prayer and lessons are appreciated, they also sing and dance in praise of Yahal. Respecting and protecting one’s family is very important to a Benshira, at the same time they are known to welcome strangers warmly and with great hospitality.



Nodding to herself, she leafed through the book for a while. Nothing caught her attention though, so she returned that and the compendium of races to their shelf. Wandering over to the shelf on religion, she found a small book on Yahal. Despite its pitiful state – bleached leather cover, torn pages and frayed edges –, the Konti took it back to her table. Opening it carefully, she began reading.


Yahal, god of faith and purity, enemy of Rhysol. Mainly worshipped by Benshira (as protector of their race) and other humans. Faith is displayed in three major ways: sacrifice, trust and prayer. Trust in Yahal means following His signs and going where He leads with a peaceful mind instead of questioning His superior wisdom. Prayer is usually given through the spoken word, although Benshira tend to use song and dance to praise Yahal as well. He has blessed mortals with a collection of His holy words, the Penita Scrolls, which give both encouragement and instruction as to how He is served best.


After another few paragraphs, Estrellir had developed a deep frown. Although he hadn’t signed his book anywhere (which would’ve revealed his Benshira identity), the author was obviously an avid follower of Yahal. She took a moment to massage her temples and relax her facial muscles.

Further research didn’t provide her with any new insights, so she gave up and returned the books. Her eyes were stinging by the time she exited the library and took a deep breath. The familiar smell of wood and brackish water hung in the air. On the way to the bureau, Estrellir fished her pipe out of a deep pocket and puffed blueish clouds of smoke into the evening sky, thinking.
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Estrellir Konrath
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Interventions

Postby Estrellir Konrath on July 23rd, 2015, 10:10 am

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“Please take a seat over here for now. Would milady like a cup of coffee while I chat with your slave?”

Milady would. True to her extraordinary sixth sense (or trained ears), Mell just stepped out of the kitchen and served steaming cups of coffee. Having seated Odella on a cushioned armchair by the shelf and Churil before her desk, Estrellir settled into her own chair. Taking a sip of coffee, hot and bitter, she inspected the slave. He kept his back straight, hands in his lap and gaze on the floor. His appearance matched the descriptions in the books, tanned skin, a mop of thick dark hair. Long lashes cast a shadow over his eyes. He lacked the bulk of a field slave and the calloused hands of a house slave, making his area of expertise quite obvious. With the straight nose and full lips, he could even be considered pretty.

“Look at me.” Trembling slightly, he obeyed. Crystal blue eyes pierced hers with surprising intensity. Trademark feature indeed.

“Churil. Is it correct that you lived in Eyktol before you were captured by the Radacke?”

His gaze dropped again. When he spoke, the words sounded soft and careful. “Yes, m’lady.”

“And that you worked around the Whiplash household before Lady Odella purchased you as a pleasure slave?”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Estrellir nodded. Now that he’d confirmed what they already knew, she could move on to the tricky part. “I understand the Benshira wear the names of the tent they were born into and the ancestor they descend from. You shed those names when you became a slave, but do you remember what you were called before?”

Churil’s lashes fluttered at her words, an exquisite sight. Suddenly the Konti understood why Odella would go to such great lengths for a mere slave. “I was always called Churil, m’lady. But among my people, I was Churil from the tents of Nahalom, of the sons of Rapa.”

Setting the cup down, Estrellir reached for her ink stick to write down the name. She had no doubts about her memory, but sometimes one had to be sure. It’d also be needed for the report. Satisfied, she looked up again. “What was your occupation?”

For some reason, the question seemed to trouble him. Shifting in his chair, he eventually spat out words. “I was a mere boy, m’lady… I helped my father with the herd, milked the goats, collected eggs… we were nomads. There was always something to do.”

Gnawing at her lower lip, Estrellir waited another tick. When he didn’t continue, she sighed and rose. “Thank you, that will be enough. Now I will take a peek into the past. Once my preparations are complete, I ask you to be as quiet and move as little as possible. Do you understand?”

The last question was directed at Odella which she confirmed. The pair watched in growing confusion as the Konti removed stacks of parchment, quills and ink vials from her desk. Having cleared it completely, she slipped out of her boots and climbed on its surface. Unperturbed by her spectators, she sat cross-legged and rested her hands on her knees. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

Faint rustling reached her ears, hinting at Churil’s presence in front of her. He was the one she wished to find among the swirling and twisting chavena, but before she had to calm down and slip into a state of relaxed concentration to traverse that realm between the mortal and divine. First she listened to her breathing and the slight pounding of her heart. Clearing the desk had heated her body a little, but the sound died down in a chime. Estrellir had meditated a few times before, so she simply slipped into the familiar routine of listening to the in, out, in, out of her breathing. The air that entered and left her chest formed a never-ending cycle, so her conscious mind followed that.

Focusing on the repetitive motion, Estrellir entered the desired state of quiet concentration. Next she found herself among the countless writhing and living chavi. Opening her mental eyes wide, she began to search for the chavi of a particular human, the slave sitting before her. Thinking of the bureau nearly threw her out of the chavena, so she focused on her goal and regained her balance. What would his chavi look like? Churil from the tents of Nahalom, of the sons of Rapa. Where are you, Churil from the tents of…

There. It was a pretty thing, just like him, steeped in vibrant orange and red with splashes of blue, although oddly twisted and frayed at the edges. Holding on to the steady sound of her breathing, Estrellir prepared to jump into the winding spiral and see.
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Estrellir Konrath
She Who Finds What Was Lost
 
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Interventions

Postby Estrellir Konrath on July 23rd, 2015, 11:12 am

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A whirlwind of color, form and other sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Clenching her teeth, Estrellir pushed against it as if resisting a strong wind. Don’t give in. Never. Slowly, the whirlwind began to subside and images could be separated with sticky fingers.

Having little control over what she saw, Estrellir was met with a series of scenes that almost smelled of fresh paint. Cushions of dark silk and the pale wrinkles of Lady Askara writhing overhead. A colorless liquid in a glass, drops on tanned skin. The longer she watched, the more colors faded and shapes blurred. Moans filled her ears, then whispered words. A slap, a painful sting, then indifference. Odd.

Taking a step back, she tried to untangle the threads and look at them one by one. Tingling heat was lurking at the back of her senses, a sign of exhaustion that she pushed back absentmindedly. She lacked the skill to notice the details, so the only thing she got was a blurred repetition of what she’d seen before. Suddenly there was warm darkness, tension bristling on bare skin and a long sigh of satisfaction. Again, indifference. Very odd.

Estrellir surfaced gasping for air like a drowning man. Wide-eyed, she clutched at the edges of the desk and looked around. Odella returned her gaze with confusion and wordless questions. Churil didn’t look up at all.

The sight brought her back into the present. Blinking away the bright stars, she slipped from the desk and fell into her comfortable chair. To her right, Odella cleared her throat. “May I ask… what you saw?”

It must’ve looked like a miracle to the human, imagination filling in the blanks. Exhausted, Estrellir vaguely waved a hand. “This was merely the start. I will have to do this again and go farther back into the past to gather the information you desire. I asked you to bring him so it’d be easier to find him.” Stopping herself, she realized the woman wouldn’t understand a single thing of what she’d just said.

After gulping down the remaining coffee, stale and cold as it was, she promised Odella to contact her in a few days and bid the mismatched pair goodbye. In the kitchen, she threw herself onto the sofa before meeting the curious gaze of her assistant. One after another, the images she’d just seen came back and flooded her mind. Another sigh. “That certainly was visual…”


Continued here.
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Estrellir Konrath
She Who Finds What Was Lost
 
Posts: 647
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Interventions

Postby Tribal on October 26th, 2015, 10:03 pm

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G R A D E S

Estrellir Konrath

Experience

  • Organisation: 2
  • Animal Husbandry: 1
  • Observation: 3
  • Rhetoric: 2
  • Socialisation: 3
  • Logic: 1
  • Investigation: 3
  • Intelligence: 1
  • Meditation: 1
  • Persuasion: 1

Lore

  • Odella the has been
  • Money is no issue for Odella
  • Basics of Benshira culture
  • Location: Yahebah
  • Race: Benshira
  • Yahal: God of Purity and Faithfulness
  • Yahal: Enemy of Rhysol
  • Churil from the tents of Nahalom
  • Churil's Past

Notes

I know you have research listed as a skill but as it isn’t really a skill I am not going to award any points there, instead I traded it up for intelligence. An enjoyable read! Enjoy the rewards.
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