Closed Something Lost, Something Gained

The first day of Spring brings the citizens of Nyka to the Aperture.

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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]

Something Lost, Something Gained

Postby Khemkhaengawut on March 26th, 2016, 1:56 am

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Khemkhaengawut was usually dense, not only physically by his extraordinaire musculature, but also mentally as he lived in his own reality. It was that what was slowing down the realization that all gazes and the tips of the swords were being pointed towards him. Stopping his chewing on the hot bread, he rose his head as he listened to Pulren’s words. Despite his inferior height and width, his attitude was clearly menacing, even enough to get inside the Chaktawe’s head. Few times he felt intimidated, none of those times he actually admitting that he was, yet this situation was quickly slipping out of his hand. Looking down to see the rich collection of crumbs that decorated the floor, apparently the reason for this sudden motionless violence against him. However, fear in him acted not in shivering or tearing, but instead in an energy burst. The situation didn’t allow him to start exercising, and so he used that energy to run his mouth. “Lies. I’ve seen blood, and I’ve lived the life of a mercenary myself. Don’t expect none of you kids to realize how much damage you’ll do and live through if you keep waving your swords around.”

That being said, he’d hand over his loaf of bread to Pulren, the actual owner of it. “Hold this.” He’d say, before he squatted down with his sublime form and used his hand to collect each crumb, or at least the bigger ones. “If you younglings choose to accept some knowledge into your heads, then good. If not, then it’s your problem. I’ve lived far longer than any of you, and I plan on living much more.” Once most of the crumbs were collected in his palm, he’d twist his torso and toss the crumbs into the fireplace, looking up at Ricky from below. “You three think you can beat me up? Feel free to try. Not even your blades will hold against my body’s glory. HA!” He made sure he flexed each of his pectorals independently to reassure himself, although he was quite expecting the beating by now. Although pain was not something he worried about, his pride would suffer greater damage. Plus, forging a lie to convince himself that he had not lost a battle would be a great challenge. Taking the fire iron and raising back to his full height, he’d halt for a moment. “One day you’ll do something you will regret for the rest of your lives. Not even cutting the arm that held your sword will be able to redeem that. I know it, because I’ve lived it.”

It was sad that these boys were convinced by this broken world the only way to advance forward was holding on to a sword. The Gods themselves cackled in the skies as they saw how foolish most people were. They had destroyed the world, and the idiots that managed to reach a place of power belittled the newer generations into their way of violence. Too bad Awut had learned quickly. His task was greater than any normal man could handle: to save this world. If that mean acting like a punching bag for these boys, then he’d gladly accept it. Or so he though… Getting a beating was something he did not want, and he wouldn’t accept. He was a good man, but not a fool. Stepping sideways to gain some space, he’d nod towards Ricky, his face still looking towards Pulren. “Do you really want to spoil the mood? You two are long friends, apparently, so let’s go out and have fun instead of sitting here and sharing sob stories. Let’s get drunk and get us a bunch of whores! Come on!” The mention of whores really seemed to bring his own mood up, his wide grin returning as he looked around at the men to see their own reactions. “I’m buying the first round of women! HA!”

And so, he began laughing, cackling almost, with the loudness that only he knew. Perhaps it was a rather long laughter, mostly because he was trying to cheer up the group and avoid the beating. If he was defeated by Pulren, so short and thin, Khemkhaengawut would never forgive himself.
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Something Lost, Something Gained

Postby Pulren Marsh on March 26th, 2016, 3:19 am

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Time had indeed slowed to a creeping halt, the tension in the room palpable. Pulren was not an entire shell. The entity that he called Uncle was still him, it was just a mask he wore over his heart and soul to kill and to show no mercy. It was forged in the blood of killers in Sunberth and it helped him to not become a soulless killer to have some kind of mask to put that darker energy into. Pulren Marsh, the fisherman in Zeltiva, really didn't want to spill blood in his house. Pulren Marsh wanted him to pick the damned bread up and move on so that the men could enjoy the evening. The words that were spewed in his direction fell on deaf ears, the thumb tracing the wood of the razor's handle, until the bread was picked up.

When it was, the air rushed back into Pulren's ears and all was well again. A long, deep breath was taken and he folded the razor, sliding it into his pocket as he accepted the offering of bread. the amount of shyke this one armed bandit was gushing into the room was enough for a solid laugh. It was unfortunate that his eyes were deep and black, as it was hard to read his true intentions. His choice to submit to the request was enough, though and slowly Pulren began to come back to life. He looked across both to Rick and Imass, nodding and rolling his eyes as he took a bite of the warm bread himself.

As he walked back into the office and carefully placed the razor against the cool stone of the basin, he looked in the mirror for a moment, nodding to the image there. He had stayed his hand, finding more mercy in Nyka than anywhere else for some reason. Stepping back out and hearing the banter, he took a seat in one of the armchairs and rolled his head on his shoulders. "I'm all for a drink. If there are whores in this town, bring them on indeed." The danger had passed like a solitary storm cloud on the great ocean.
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Something Lost, Something Gained

Postby Ricky Maze on March 27th, 2016, 5:10 am

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To stand witness towards the ungrateful and blusterous dark eyed scrounger felt more aggravating and annoying than a winter's bonesnapper wind, and for Ricky to come to this conclusion he had to be under a lot of stress in that moment. Mainly because of the nature this freeloader seemed to display, yet even so he seemed to respond well enough to the confrontation that his friend laid out before him. The authority was plain and simple here and the call for regulation had been made, even when it seemed that this "Khem" disrespected Pulren he made up for it albeit in his own sort of way. He prattled and preached on about how none of the others in that room knew anything of bloodshed and perhaps even battle. Ricky of course begged to differ entirely as his body as a whole has endured the trials and tribulations found in battle, and he'd done more than his fair share of bloodshed from his own flesh and from others in opposition.

What this maniac seemed to tirade on about though could've brought a laugh at least, as the fisherman could even bet Myri herself would be astounded by the gracious amount of ignorant pride this fool displayed. Even so the situation somehow seemed to be resolved without any need for violence, and as the tension seemed to finally ease a little so too did Ricky. The stark cold air about him finally seemed to warm up once more as his intent to tap into the metaphysical sense of power waned, the surface of his skin only just landscapes with chill bumps all down across his arms. He'd failed to recognize his intent to tap into the powers that were called magic in that particular moment, until he opened his hands to glance down at the palms for a tick. Moisture that could've very well been from sweat, or just even traces of water reimancy, clung to his skin in a frosted form just now. He really did have the intention to freeze this lunatic in place without a second thought, but thankfully the others failed to notice it just as well as he did.

A quick brush of his hands across the shorts he wore removed the specks of frost, a sigh followed as he didn't exactly display such eagerness as the other two did. "Aye, Oi'm up fer drinkin', could use a lot o' it actually." He hadn't the intention to enjoy the company of another in... Gods not a while actually. How long had it been since he'd even thought of another besides his wi... exwife she is now called. Either way he couldn't be a sorry sport about it, so for now he'd be willing to go along with the drinking business.
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Something Lost, Something Gained

Postby Imass on April 1st, 2016, 4:18 pm

Garonn stared at Khemkhaengawut with cool, yellow eyes as he tried to listen to his response to Pulren's challenge. The sword still held in hand to divide the two men. The sunlight bounced off the blade, all over the walls and the men, giving the scene a mystical feel.

The Akalak did not only doubted the Chatkewe's claims of being a mercenary, but the point the older man was trying to make went in one ear and out of the other. The Dark Brother's pride deflected all the wisdom, the words were completely lost to him.

I regret nothing, despite not choosing my actions; I am loyal to my stupid brother. I fought upon the plains..the city... and the ocean... I paid the price and did not count the cost, just like you and your arm you stupid oaf... It is not my place to say anything though...

Once Pulren ate a piece of the bread, Garonn was satisfied. He gave a serious nod to his battle-brother and very slowly sheathed the short-sword.

Shhhhin--KK. He slammed the pommel into the case and latched the safety. The once shimmering room now seemed dull in comparison.

Despite forcing his welcome onto the mercenary, Khemkhaengawut was now a friend of Pulren for they had broken bread together. The Chatkewe was Imass' friend too for fighting together in the bath house; a friend of Imass was reluctantly also a friend of Garonn. Ricky, however, still had an ambiguous status among Khemkhaengawut and Garonn respectively, though the Akalak trusted any friend of Pulren.

Garonn walked over to the table and placed the weapon in Rick's hand, "Thank you good man,"

"Aye! Let us drink and be merry! I have not felt the touch of a woman for over five years!" Garonn announced, despite never laying with a woman himself.
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Something Lost, Something Gained

Postby Dove Brown on March 25th, 2017, 3:01 pm

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