Is it possible to run from a fight, catch a cold, and end up naked in Baroque Bay all in a single day? Let's find out!
(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy
role play forum. Why don't you
register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)
A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]
Moderator: Morose
by Andar on April 18th, 2015, 7:22 pm
23'rd of Spring, 515 AV. Early Morning.
The rain had finally subsided to a sprinkle. Grey clouds parted to allow dawn's early light to peak over the flimsy network of buildings, and into Andar's modest living quarters. He groaned irritably as the slant of sunshine passed over his face. Andar flung out an arm, toppling a bottle of wine in the process as he groped his bed for something to block out the hellish light. A stained and particularly smelly shirt was found and used as a makeshift curtain. In the suitably dark, yet pungent rest area, Andar found he could not reclaim that restful state. An annoyed exhalation was quickly met with a pitched shirt out his Sunset Quarter window. He rolled out of bed and stretched his arms high over head. Suddenly his bare foot was cold and he felt the occasional pelt of water atop his tawny head. Andar cursed, stepping out of the overfilled pot that was serving as a water catcher for his leaky roof. Half of his floor was a puddle. Andar emptied the pot out the window, wishing he still had that shirt to soak up some of the mess. He got the place somewhat damp, if not dry. Put on fresh clothes and left his room.
At least the downpour had finally curtailed. That was something to be happy about. It felt good to have the sunshine warming up his wet bones for a change. He hadn't robbed nearly enough folk over the last week and would have to make up for it with a big score sometime soon. He would concentrate today and get things done. It was going to be his lucky day. He had sunshine on his side to buoy his soggy spirits.
What else did a hopeful thief need after all?
Last edited by
Andar on May 25th, 2015, 5:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
Andar - How'd that get there?
-
- Posts: 66
- Words: 79630
- Joined roleplay: February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
by Jessor Yellowmoss on April 18th, 2015, 7:57 pm
What had her mother said? Waste not, want not? The Drykas didn't waste a thing! Right down to the bones from her meat, everything was used.
But if that was true, why in Hai did Jessor's stomach rumble so?
Tossing the last bone of her meal to tiny Itsu, Jessor watched the kit gnaw on the bone happily, while his brother tackled him, wrestling the younger fox kit for the treat.
Jessor gave the kits the Grassland sign for stop, but they didn't react in the slightest. Sighing, Jess reached over and pried them apart, taking away the bone and storing it under her sleeping bag for later.
"Ya can have it when ya b'have." She scolded sternly in her choppy Common. The kits hung their heads, and young Itsu even tried to snuggle on her lap apologetically. After a moment of comforting the kits, the Drykas stood and gestured to them once more.
Follow.
This time, they listened, and Jessor led the kits out into the streets of Tent City where the dirt and beggars were always knee-deep, and following directions was a life or death matter. Luckily, the kits followed orders much better out on the streets, and they stayed behind her obediently. She led the kits down a street that was mostly empty, then turned and nodded to them. Here would be the perfect place to practice.
Hold.
The kits held very still for a brief moment, seemingly holding even their breath...until Itsu caught the smell of something. The young kits eyes lit up and he took off, rushing through the streets, right back the way they had come.
"No! Stop! Hold!" Jessor called, and then, more urgently, "Someun catch tha' fox!"
Last edited by
Jessor Yellowmoss on April 20th, 2015, 1:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
Jessor Yellowmoss
-
Jessor Yellowmoss - Ride the Winds
-
- Posts: 119
- Words: 41781
- Joined roleplay: June 29th, 2014, 1:58 am
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human, Drykas
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
by Andar on April 19th, 2015, 4:22 pm
Andar happily bit into the bundle of smoked fish, bread, and veggies. This was a sort of ritual of his. Old Mother Maria (as she was known), had this little abandoned building in the slums where she sold the fish pies. The food was inexpensive, yet still quite good. You could get better cuisines, arguably, in the Commons, but not near as good for the price.
He didn't put much thought into his wanderings this morning. He was simply basking in the warmth of the sun, and enjoying the tasty food. His footsteps carried him southward to where the first tents poked out from the tangle of ruined buildings. He hadn't made a conscious decision to travel through the Tent City. It was just a random place to go. Not that he was a stranger to the maze of canvas. Andar had been through these parts a few times. The folk around Tent city weren't the nicest of people. Some were more down trodden than even the poorest scum in the slums. There were also quite a few foreigners camped out in the place, as he remembered. It was a good place to go if you wished to learn a new language just before getting back stabbed for your socks.
The young kelvic thief carefully wove between puddles of soupy mud. The incessant rain had not been kind to Tent City. Not kind at all. Besides the grounds looking like a pig pen, he also noticed many people stitching up leaky patches in their tents. Andar was about to take another bite of his fish when a blur of fur suddenly appeared before him. He bit open air, narrowed his eyes, nostrils flared as he got a whiff of dog. Down in the tracks of mud, a young fox was happily devouring what was left of his meal. Andar bared his teeth instinctively, and let out a little growl. That seemed to have little effect on the kit. He did not doubt that he could probably communicate with the animal if he decided to morph into his alternate form. If he had he'd give this little one a good piece of his mind.
"You owe me one, fuzzy," he said with a bemused look.
Not long after, a woman came rushing down the pathway between tents, hollering "stop" and "hold" quite energetically.
"I take it you know this little thief?" he inquired with a pointed look downward at the fox who had by now left no trace of Andar's meal. Despite his loss, he smiled wryly from the animal to the woman. His amber eyes rested on her, naturally seeking out details that would tell him more about her. Perhaps she would be his first mark of the day.
-
Andar - How'd that get there?
-
- Posts: 66
- Words: 79630
- Joined roleplay: February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
by Jessor Yellowmoss on April 22nd, 2015, 10:45 pm
OOCSorry for the short post. It seemed appropriate for the circumstances.Jessor's Common may have been choppy, but "thief" was one word that every Sunberthian knew in multiple languages, and one that she knew shouldn't be used when talking about her, or her foxes.
"Excuse? Itsu is no thief! How dare you disgrace the Yellowmoss name in such a way! I oughta knock your lights out for sayin' such a thing!" Itsu, fully contented, ran to lay at Jess' feet, rubbing against her leg in reassurance. Kitchi- the elder fox- wandered in behind her and, upon spying Itsu, tackled the pup happily. The pair rolled on the ground as Jessor picked up her rant once more.
"I don't know whatchu got to smile about, but it better be somethin' good. Maybe you thought you were gonna get to steal a kit tonight, huh? So let's hear it. Whatchu got to say for yourself? If you can make up a good lie, I might bruise you a little less," The girl threatened angrily, reaching up to fix a stray hair that had escaped the usual, intricately knotted bun.
Jessor Yellowmoss
-
Jessor Yellowmoss - Ride the Winds
-
- Posts: 119
- Words: 41781
- Joined roleplay: June 29th, 2014, 1:58 am
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human, Drykas
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
by Andar on April 22nd, 2015, 11:47 pm
Andar waited patiently for the woman to excuse her pet's rude behavior. Then would come the exhausting offers of recompense. He would dismiss the idea, of course, being the gentleman that he was. Yes indeed, how thoughtful she was. And how dare he insult the Yellowmoss name. Why, she even offered to knock his lights out. Wait a second! Knock his lights out?! His smile vanished. He blinked as the angry woman went on to call him a kit thief and threatened to bruise more than his ego.
His eyes narrowed. "Are you insane, woman? I don't know where you're from, but I was raised right here in Sunberth. And my mother taught me manners at a very early age (he was only two years old to be fair, so early age was a very relative term). Something apparently you, never learned," he said, coming to stand inches from her. Inviting her to attack him if she dared.
His amber eyes held a feral glint. While his own temper wasn't a complete farce, he had need of an excuse to get near to the woman, and she had given him the very perfect justification. "And just to be clear. I did call your little street rat, a thief! It seems, you have more than one of them. How cute," he said sarcastically. Appearing to stare down at the one she had called Itzu, while in truth, his gaze slipped to her waist, and any valuables thereabouts on her person. He was going to gain much pleasure in separating this Yellowmoss girl from her assets.
-
Andar - How'd that get there?
-
- Posts: 66
- Words: 79630
- Joined roleplay: February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
by Jessor Yellowmoss on April 26th, 2015, 4:39 pm
How dare he!
Insulting her mother and father, claiming they had raised her wrong. He could have insulted her hair, her lack of proper muscle, the fact that she lived in Tent City, or even the fact that she had overreacted to an insult about her kits. But when he insulted her mother and father, that crossed the line.
Jessor could feel the hair on the back of her neck bristle in an bestial manner. Her eyes widened at the man's sharp words and her hands clenched at her sides. Though she had no weapon, that was the way she had been taught to fight on the plains of Cyphrus.
She was confident in her abilities. Perhaps too confident.
Though she had only fought once or twice, she knew the technique. If the person looked weak, aim for the nose. It bled easily, and the blood might scare them off. Jessor was unsure of whether or not a little blood would scare this man, but she couldn't remember much else in the heat of the moment. So, up she swung, aiming a tightly closed fist directly for the man's face.
Jessor Yellowmoss
-
Jessor Yellowmoss - Ride the Winds
-
- Posts: 119
- Words: 41781
- Joined roleplay: June 29th, 2014, 1:58 am
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human, Drykas
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
by Andar on April 27th, 2015, 7:04 pm
Andar flicked his gaze up a few ticks later. He prided himself on his ability to read emotions, and translate the various patterns involved with behavior. To his practiced eye, this woman appeared to be somewhere between terribly perturbed, and steaming mad. The signs were all there. Her mouth had tightened a fraction. Steely eyes widened in outrage. Clenched fists. If his calculations were correct she might just be incited enough to....
He had realized her intention just a tad too late. Her balled fist snapped out toward him, and it was all he could do to widen his own eyes in shock, and tilt his head a fraction. Her blow veered slightly off course, catching him somewhere between cheekbone, and ear. Andar took a step back, hand cushioning the area she had socked him.
"SHYKE! PETCH! What the bloody hell was that for?" he said, glaring at her between digits. There. He had acted in accordance to her sudden fit of physical rage. Now he could proceed to the next step of his plan. Which was....
Andar growled deep in his throat, and suddenly charged the lady! His arms stretched outwide as he dipped his shoulders in what he perceived was a reasonable tackling position. Next would come the impact, loss of breath, and of course, his jostling hands as they found purchase upon her goods.
That's how it was supposed to go anyway....
-
Andar - How'd that get there?
-
- Posts: 66
- Words: 79630
- Joined roleplay: February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
by Jessor Yellowmoss on April 29th, 2015, 9:29 pm
The solid connection of her fist with his face had felt so gratifying, so fulfilling, that she was ready to do it again. Jessor wound up a tight fist once more. She was so enraged that her vision tunneled. She saw nothing but the rotten vagik in front of her, and the stomach area where she chose to target him.
So why was it that she didn't see him lunge forward? She would never know.
He spread his arms as though he were expecting a hug, but rather than a caring embrace, Jessor found herself pushed back by his dipped shoulder. His shoulder bone dug into her ribcage, knocking her off-balance and causing her to tumble to the ground. Her breath caught, then escaped her as she hit the ground hard. The impact on her back left her gasping- unable to speak, let alone move- for several ticks.
She felt his hands slip close to her bag of Mizas. The girl tried to roll over in a vain attempt to keep him away, but she knew by the sudden loss of weight on her belt that she was too slow. The thief had won.
Jessor lay still in defeat, her eyes closed against Syna's assaulting light. Her hands meandered up to her chest, touching the area gingerly. Yes, that would hurt for some time. But now was no time to sulk.
Slowly rising to her feet, Jessor took a quick inventory to find her kits, then glanced up to search for the thief. The stubborn Drykas had every intention of recovering her Mizas- even if it was the last thing she did.
Jessor Yellowmoss
-
Jessor Yellowmoss - Ride the Winds
-
- Posts: 119
- Words: 41781
- Joined roleplay: June 29th, 2014, 1:58 am
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human, Drykas
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
by Andar on April 30th, 2015, 8:34 am
He plowed into her, the two of them leaving their feet before rolling like barrels in the tracks of mud. He not only heard her sharp intake for breath that did not come, he could feel the faltering pull for air on his face. Dazed himself for a moment, he shook his tawny mane. Exploring hands worked of their own accord, knowing the contours that shaped her body. Material that wrapped her. The shape and curve of the woman herself. His touch halted a moment before finally the tracing fingers came into contact with her pouch. A tight knot of string kept the bag closed, but his dexterous fingers found slack in the bond. The bag freed of her person, he came to a stand. By the weight of its contents, he judged there to be ample enough coin within.
A brief moment of sunlight warming her face with her eyes fluttering open made him stop and stare. There was a beauty to her continence, somehow, filtered by light and pain. He lowered his gaze and saw the kits had moved to her and nuzzled her where she lay. Their furry faces kindled a spark of guilt in him. It was a foreign sensation in Andar, who had never known regret for the deeds that fueled his survival. He desperately tried to cultivate the early anger he felt toward the girl. That was easier. That was something he could relate to. She had hit him after all. The girl was, by all accounts, a hot-headed, stubborn person. She deserved to get knocked off her high horse. He nodded firmly as if convincing himself of that logic.
He saw that his clothes were filthy with swirls of damp dirt needing to be wiped away from the knees of his trousers as well as the sleeves of his shirt. He ignored the mess, dipped his hand into the pouch, pulling out a fistful of coins, and a few other odds and ends. Was that a bone and comb?
Seeing the woman was rising now, he grimaced as if the action hurt him more than his slightly swollen face, tossed the still fairly heavy pouch back to her. Pocketing all else hastily. Turning to run, he suddenly lurched to the side, tripping over Jessor and falling back to the moist ground. He struggled to lift his head, his vision dancing unsteadily before him. He could only faintly make out the dark harsh outlines of two men, the sun a halo of light from behind. A gold tooth glinted in one man's mouth with his smile. Andar did not see the club he held as he fell back with a groan.
"Well well. What do we got here?" said the grungy-faced man who had bashed Andar over the head. Bits of food clung to his black beard. Eyes shone with avarice and lust.
-
Andar - How'd that get there?
-
- Posts: 66
- Words: 79630
- Joined roleplay: February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am
- Race: Kelvic
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
by Jessor Yellowmoss on May 6th, 2015, 4:25 pm
Jessor found quickly that rising to locate the thief was the wrong move. In fact, she should have stayed laying. It seemed that much had happened while she had lay on the ground with eyes shut and head pounding, and somehow, the thief had ended up on the ground as well.
Above the thief stood a large, burly man with a club and a black, curling beard. His eyes were sparkling with ill intent and his mouth gaped in a twisted imitation of a smile.
Slowly piecing the scene together, Jess realized that her thief had been...well, out-thieved. And now, they were facing a bigger issue. This man didn't just want their Mizas, it seemed. He wanted everything they had.
"Now don't go anywhere, missy. I'm not done with you, either." The man grinned crookedly.
Jessor took a step back, but tripped over a growling kit, falling flat on her butt. She reached out to comfort the kit, but it was too late. Kitchi was charging towards the man with the club. Not willing to let the kit get smashed, Jessor was up in a flash. She was on her feet in ticks, and was rushing the man before she could think. The Drykas swung a wild fist, leaning into the punch and connecting with the man's shoulder feebly.
Nothing. She had made little to no on the man,and now her knuckles throbbed with the ache of the punch.
A chuckle escaped the man once more as Jessor nursed her now pulsing knuckles. Her eyes narrowed and a growl was emitted before the girl realized how utterly overpowered she was. Outnumbered and overpowered, the girl did the only thing she could think of-she kicked the thief on the ground gently.
"Get up, petcher. I need your help."
Jessor Yellowmoss
-
Jessor Yellowmoss - Ride the Winds
-
- Posts: 119
- Words: 41781
- Joined roleplay: June 29th, 2014, 1:58 am
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human, Drykas
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests