[Job Thread] Beholden to None

Mercenary Work

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Known as the Celestial Seat, Nyka is a religious city in Northern Sylira. Ruled by four demigods and traversed by a large crevice, the monk-city is both mystical and dangerous. [Lore]

[Job Thread] Beholden to None

Postby Elias Caldera on January 26th, 2016, 5:59 am

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31st Day of Winter

Midnight.

Darkness had a way of bringing out the worst in Nyka, or perhaps its true face, either way, no one wanted to be outside the charade of safety that were their homes at this hour. The moon was shrouded tonight, Leth heavily hemmed in by dark, lumbering clouds that promised all those beneath with more winters rains to come. Outside the warehouse, two men breathed into their hands and rubbed them together, their bodies a shivering testament to the wretched weather. One, a larger man with a shock of white hair, glanced to his partner, scarce more than a boy despite his scars, and grunted. His companion, Elias, watched the other with vapid interest, preferring instead to stare out at the darkness around him and scowl.

"First Nykan winter, boy?" His companion asked him with a low chuckle, rubbing his hands and clapping them together. A long sword was strapped to his waist and it dragged along the cobblestone with a grating moan. It wasn’t, but Elias looked over and shrugged anyway, mimicking the older man's futile attempt to stay warm. "What does it matter if it is or isn't?" He snapped, shivering.

"It don't." the other guard said with a wide grin, "But you're shaking like a leaf, boy, and anyone skulking 'round looking for a score tonight'll look at you first." Usually only the monks could roam these wretched street at night, but a few mizas in the right hands could apparently persuade them to take their patrols to other routes that didn't involve this particular part of the docks, place more deserving of their attention and all that. A few more mizas and they'd even ignore the fact that one was bearing sharpened steel in a city where only a quarter of the fighting force was allowed to even look at a proper weapon, let alone wield one.

Unfortunately, no amount of gold could turn away the creatures that seeped out of the aperture, nor the particularly brave or lucrative thieves who sought opportunity in the depths of darkness. Hence the reason for a very armed and very cold Elias to stand guard.

"Let them try." The Ravokian muttered, more than just a little annoyed at that word 'boy' already. "I won't be dulled by this petching weather.” The other whistled, low and long, looking up to the sky and sighing. "Best not anger Zulrav now, cold ain't the worst he can throw on us tonight. Besides, aint no sense in getting defensive, I was a whelp like you once." He paused, looking Elias over. "Not near as scrawny though. Must've impressed someone a great deal to get this job." Elias spat to the side, avoiding a chattering applause of his own teeth by sheer will alone. The night was just beginning to thicken. Winter had hushed the city, but it was the night that ripened the danger, filling in all the blind spots with shadows and luring out the darker denizens to play. The reimancer rubbed his arms again, watching the clouds move over the face of Leth.

The night was going end in blood, he knew it. He couldn't explain why, but it just felt... due.

Despite his apparent spell of foresight, the bells still chimed by without incident, filling up the silence between the two strangers. The other was uncomfortable, that much was certain. He shifted and moved almost as if compelled by some higher power. Elias, however, kept his movement to a constrained shivering even as frost settled down on the stones before them like spider webbing lines of frigid crystal at their feet. "Krios," The companion said after a particularly bad bout of fidgeting, "Krios Katan. I saw your bow there. You know my father was a bowman." Dark eyes flicked to the weapon in question and accompanying quiver arrows Elias had set down next to himself. “His father too, just like his father before him. Finest weapon in the world that, that’s what they’d say.

"And you?" The question was prying, almost sardonic.

Krios held up his left hand, a twisted burned thing with only three fingers still wriggling on the charred stump. He shrugged his shoulders, drumming his right hand’s digits along the pommel of his blade. "A bit too ambitious in my youth, youngling, played with fire and paid the price. Been swinging a sword with my right ever since." Elias looked away, disgusted with the mottled thing, but Krios hadn’t been looking at him to notice, just gazing out at the street and maybe into the darkness beyond. "In Sunberth, you learn right quick there ain’t no excuse nor mercy for a man at rest. So this man took up the blade to keep bread on the table for what was left of his family. Now I swing it ‘cause I got nothing else."

"So you came here. Why not find a healer for that damned thing?" Elias suggested, momentarily distracted from the cold by the conversation. "Could have gone to Riverfall or Syliras if-" Krios was shaking his head before Elias had even finished. "No boy, no... I’ve angered the gods with my once enough with my arrogance. This old boy will pay for it with this here mark and the others like it. Let no man say Krios Katan didn't accept his punishment." This time it was his turn to spit. "I cry to no god to ease my suffering. I can manage well enough on my own."

Elias sighed, throwing up his arms in defeat of a battle he didn’t know he was fighting. Krios was... a strange fellow. All talk and gab but with the hint of iron beneath his ruddy skin. The man respected the gods but by the same hand rejected their help, almost violently at times, yet had somehow found his way to Nyka, city with more gods that most people here knew what to do with.

Respect yet sovereign above else. An old weathered thing this strange creature Krios was, beholden to none. Was there anything more Sunberthian?
Last edited by Elias Caldera on February 3rd, 2016, 7:51 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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[Job Thread] Beholden to None

Postby Elias Caldera on January 26th, 2016, 6:06 am

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A few moments of cruel, cold wind passed by in silence as the mage pondered giving life to a fire with his magic just for the sake of some kind of shield against the wintery whip lashing at his every joint. No, not here he thought bitterly. Not when he could still pull that card from his sleeve and play it to everyone’s surprise and dismay. Soon he figured, teasing himself with the notion alone to stave off the cold. Very soon.

I think I've gone and figured out why you’re so sour, and it’s not because of the cold either.” Krios chimed in once more out of the blue, his sudden and gruff voice cutting through the lull of nothing like a battering ram that nearly sent the mage flying out of his boots.

I’m not sour.” Elias growled sourly.

Valion gave you that ‘you’re a warrior, not just another guard’ spiel didn’t he?” The Caldera turned to old Sunberther, eyes hardening in disbelief. “Oh yah.” The grizzled old swordsman chuckled under the brim of his wide hat. “Old boss Thrace likes to give that line of bullshyke to every dick swinging buck who comes wandering into his yard, you know, just to make ‘em feel all warm and special inside, then you know what he goes right ahead and does anyway?” Elias groaned as the two of them spoke the words in perfect, abject harmony.

He puts you on guard duty.
He puts you on guard duty, that’s right.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Elias turned his attention back on the street and tried to ignore his compatriot for the time being. It had been annoying to realize he had been assigned this job even after what Thrace had told him, but it was even worse now knowing that the slaver had pulled this same damn thing on countless other saps before him. Elias gnashed his teeth and blinked back the frost from the edges of his vision. Bastard he mused as a stray dog scuttled out of the night through the mulch and snow, tail tucked tight between its legs. Old hair matted down, brown eyes a doleful and defensive in a way that was enough to garner the mage’s attention for longer than he understood why. It passed through his field of vision for a moment before vanishing into an alley.

An alley with too many shadows for his liking.

Elias put a hand on his dagger out of instinct, shuffling sideways as he did so toward the gloom on the side of the warehouse. Krios noticed him, followed his cold eyes, then nodded and did the same. He understood…

They were about to be entertaining some guests.
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[Job Thread] Beholden to None

Postby Elias Caldera on January 26th, 2016, 6:25 am

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Three men sidled from the alley, weapons already glinting in their hands. One carried a spear, normally a rare sight in the more concealed society of Nyka were discretion with one's tools was key, lest you wanted the monks to take a shining to you. It was still an unwelcome sight all the same though. Swords and an axe graced the other two. From across the cobblestone street they watched the pair guards with dark eyes, obscured by the heavy cloth they wore to ward against the cold. Krios sighed, pulling his sword out and stepping forward, his blade poised and ready.

"Cold night," he said to them, "Too cold for this kind of fight. Nothin’ worth it here."

"Curios. We hear differently." The man with the spear answered, leveling it at Krios. "I don't suppose you'd just be willing to step aside and let me discover that for myself, would you?"

"I got a job to do." Krios shot back matter of factly as Elias observed in tense silence. "Coin I need for me and mine. Are you paying me to step aside?"

"Paying with your life, old man."

"Ah," Krios answered, smiling as if relieved. "That son, is something you do not own."

"What do you believe is in there?" Elias asked, ignoring the pointed glare that had earned him from Krios. "What's worth bleeding over?" Truth be told, he was curious now himself. The other men looked to each other for a moment as the one with the spear pulled his scarf just a bit tighter. His scoff left a puff of warm air that dissipated in the wind. "Same thing it’s always been worth; something better than this." He held the spear out, then pointed it at the door. "Plus there’s the added benefit of knowing we took whatever it is from that petching slaver Valion Thrace. Hell, sticking to that son of a whore is its own prize."

Krios shook his head, holding the sword out across the warehouse entrance, barring the way. "I’m telling you again, one last time, this ain’t gonna be worth the butcher’s bill, son.

"I ‘ain’t’ your son." the spearman snarled, "Gut ‘em both."

Krios hissed through his nose, taking three steps forward before the word 'gut' ever left his opponent's mouth. The leader had turned his gaze to the other men, urging them on with a crook of his neck. Krios had taken that that as an invitation apparently, swinging his blade up to carve a red grin into the thick meat of his throat. Gurgling, the spearman collapsed like a sack of shyke, grasping at his neck and drowning away what was left of his life in his own blood. The old guard hadn’t paused to watch his opponent fall however, instead he continued on with surprising swiftness toward the one with the axe. The fellow was already struggling to raise his steel in some haphazard and desperate attempt to deny Krios his second slaying. Elias cursed to himself, dashing in Krios's wake as the mage’s sword found its way into his hand and he drove into the thick of it, facing off with the other bastard.

This man had a sword, much the same as Elias, and attacked swiftly, pitching forward on one foot as thrust the blade and extending his body out almost perpendicularly. Twisting back from the stab, Elias spun his own weapon out and caught the other, deftly moving it along a different trajectory before tilting in and lashing out with a numb fist. The ruffian’s style was unwieldy, too much so for any hope of hand to hand connecting. The swing missed and his opponent moved sideways to intercept, piercing outward with his blade in a wide arc.

Elias threw himself out of reach, years of petitioner training kicking in as he rolled across the cold stone in a tangle of cloth and skin. He came up on his knees, his opponent already charging him. Catching the man in the eyes, Elias channeled djed through his gaze and deep into his opponent's mind. It was quick and pathetically sloppy, but it was loud. Behind you! Came the scream of caution fueling this particular hypnotic push, freezing his opponent in mid stride as he whirled back on the defensive against something that wasn’t there. It was an opportunity, if only slight.

Krios had his own fight to deal with on the other hand, and the old man clashed his blade against the axe, driving his opponent back. Elias followed with his own attack against his own foe, forcing his enemy back amid a whirling bladestorm. The spinning and the unrelenting charge had seen his now uncertain foe's back pushed up against the wall. Without warning the bastard hurled a dagger at Elias in mounting fear, the small knife missing its mark by mere inches. The gods only knew where the blasted throwing blade and spawned from, but it had been enough to stymy Elias’s violent advance. His opponent pressed the advantage and the two met in a deadly dance once again. Up. Slash. Parry. Thrust. Kill him! kill him! Petching kill him!

Somewhere in between a wide horizontal slash that arched too far, Elias's sword breached the gap. Metal met flesh and slid through bone with delightful ease.

His opponent dropped to the ground a tick later, sure to be dead or dying at the very least.

The mage spun around to find his partner and saw Krios just as he was knocking the axe from its shocked owner’s grasp. His blade was tickling the thief’s throat with the next move. "I’m offering mercy if you’re willing to take it." He said quietly... Coldly. "Clean up your friends and disappear back into the night."

Nodding and moving with diligent, terror inspired caution, the man retrieved his axe and put it to his belt, spending the next several chimes dragging his dead companions into the alley and back to safety... probably so he could avoid an audience as he pilfered their belongings. The Ravokian tutted in disappointment but Krios ignored him, returning instead to the door to wipe down and sheath his weapon. Elias did the same after a moment’s hesitation, nodding at his companion with grudging respect despite his distaste for leaving survivors. The petcher was probably mad, and without a doubt confusing as all hell, but he had... something. Honor you might call it, as funny as it was for an Ebonstryfer to be praising something like that. Well whatever it was, it was worth respecting.

In the morning they'd find payment for their services rendered, and though the night was far from over, Krios’s shabby company helped pass the time. Their alliance had been the product of gold and convenience, but that hardly meant he couldn’t enjoy a story or two about 'good ol' Sunberth' while they waited.

Elias could live with that.
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[Job Thread] Beholden to None

Postby Dove Brown on August 6th, 2016, 12:20 pm

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Elias Caldera
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  • Krios: a Sunberthian guard
  • Tactics: faking a warning

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