Closed Being handy is being redundant

Because certain anatomical advantages can get one in trouble.

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Hector Troester on October 2nd, 2016, 5:17 am

Fall 70th, 516AV
early evening


The constant buzz of the city refused to die down even as the sky above turned to a darker shade of blue. Shadows turned longer, and the lamps one by one started casting their dim flicker upon the faces that surrounded or walked past him. Taking these long walks through the city had already become a habit to him. An old habit that he’d never forget, despite the years he’d lived away from home.

Ravok’s countless alleys and canals, her bridges and ropes, her sturdy wooden platform floor. Like an old friend, a familiar lover, this city had charmed him anew. And he savoured her charm, seeking solace and clarity of mind. He’d just walk around, aimlessly wherever his feet would take him. and all the people around him, their murmurs laughter or prayers just flowed around him, evolving into a blessed noise that gave him peace of mind. Exactly what he needed to stay focused. It was one form of meditation for him after a long day or night of work. The steady rhythm of his steps, his soles gently tapping against the hardwood floor followed the beating of his own heart. Air coursed through his lungs, back and forth like waves, washing away thoughts that did not belong in his head any more and remnants of feelings long forgotten; as if they were grains of sand. Before his eyes, images merged and blurred, faces passed through and were forever gone; colours and places of the beautiful city he called home. He took a turn into an alley, leaving the crowded street behind.

And inside his head order ruled. Behind his closed lips words were phrased. Words that made no phrase and made no sense. But by repeating them again and again and again, Hector had found a way to concentrate into his very essence. Lonely strands of Djed pulsed under his skin, the promise of power, still at it’s infant stages, swam through his veins. And little by little, day by day he gained insight about himself, about his potential. It would take a lot of time, that he knew very well, but slowly and steadily he would gain control over his Djed. He’d find ways to draw it out and use it, like the way they had tried to teach him so long ago. How fool he was back then...

It wasn’t just another day though. And that buzz he knew had taken a darker undertone. Because two bells had rung a few chimes ago, and that made everyone nervous. The Stryfe seemed to be everywhere; with their watchful eyes and menacing looks. That old beautiful paranoia that each and every Ravokian nurtured had once again bloomed.

He didn’t really care. Rumours always were and always would be. People would always find a good excuse to hate the outsiders. and rightfully so, he might add. They were not blessed to belong under Rhysol’s protection. They hadn’t sought this blessing, why should they enjoy it ? The world outside Ravok was a nightmare. something he’d experienced in the cruellest of ways. Why should they be safe ? What if they were there to ruin it all ?

Such thoughts raced in his mind and he find it cleansing to just let them freely flow till they were out. He would not let them linger. His words echoed and repeated pushing everything else out. There was this slight tingling sensation, a sweet taste and he knew the feeling. It was...

BUMP

It all collapsed.

Someone had just bumped into him at a time most inconvenient. Everything he’d just built up, was crashed in a mere moment of someone’s carelessness. His focus fluttered away and his balance was lost. Next thing he knew, he was on the floor with a dark clad figure over him.

Emotions inside him had died and he’d buried them a while ago. Yet encased in their dark tombs, rage and anger boiled and their ever present offspring called indignation grew inside of him. This would not do. Much as he wanted to surrender, he knew that loosing control would be to null all his efforts. He felt his head almost bursting, a loud roar tumbling out of his chest so he desperately clawed for calm thoughts. Something distant and pleasant. Like childhood ?

He stood up and struggling with himself he managed to keep the subtle smile that he was born with. But by going back through memories to keep his temper, a long forgotten word, a Eupharian curse his carer used, found it’s way through his lips.

“Azmashe !"

He felt his eyes almost bursting out, but he’d managed to keep his cool. A foreigner’s word. Who would know? Who would care what was just uttered? It was just a quiet alley, right?

Keeping a straight face, and trying to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze he turned to walk away.
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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Sayana on October 4th, 2016, 11:16 pm

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Frankly, she hadn’t yet worked up the courage to try one of the Ravosalas.

It was her first full day in the city of Ravok and Sayana marveled at the bridges, the buildings, the canals… Not that it made getting around any easier. It was one of those few occasions that she did in fact find herself lost. But at the same time, it didn’t matter to her. Except… Except for the numerous black robed soldiers that littered the streets.

She, herself wore a black cloak, but she could tell that these were trained men, sometimes women too. It was their posture, the way they walked, the weapons that were either in sight or under the black garments. But it wasn’t just the way they behaved, it was how the people of the city reacted to them. In fact, that was probably the more obvious clue. Sometimes people were asked to show papers, some people seemed to go to them for guidance or news of the city, and some people just scurried off afraid. Sayana would have grouped herself in with the last.

It wasn’t easy to avoid encountering the city soldiers, but she made a point of blending in with the citizens when she could and setting off at seemingly random but purposeful directions when she was caught alone. At least she had the benefit of a good cloak which obscured the more distinctive features of her race, and sturdy boots in which she wouldn’t lose her step.

Just as she was musing how similar the Ravok soldiers were to the Syliran knights, a pair of them seemed to appear at the bridge she was heading to. Without pausing in her step, she kept walking past the base of the bridge, with her head down and turned away from the black soldiers. In fact, her gait sped up as she continued past. Looking anywhere but at the bridge, she gazed at the lavish residences to her right and looked at the pristine windows, the decorative architecture, even a couple of flower pots adorning the…

Wham!

For the love of all gods. She nimbly recovered as she took a couple of steps to regain her balance. However her new ‘acquaintance’ was not so lucky. Almost out of habit, she tugged at her cloak with her low hands to keep it carefully closed.

For a moment, she hesitated in front of the fallen man. She didn’t want to attract needless attention from the city soldiers but at the same time, she didn’t want to start making enemies for careless behaviour. Well, not entirely careless. But as she made up her mind and turned on her heel to leave, a rather unexpected word escaped the man’s lips.

“Azmashe.”

Bloody hai! She didn’t go around calling people stupid shyke or some such. Just as she was about to confront his rudeness, she suddenly realized the further implications to his exclaimed word. It was a desert word. A desert phrase.

Her demeanor changed just as quickly and soon she had moved to face the man. Calmly, she held up two lefts, smack against each other and with an index finger, each, pressed to her lips. Only her hands were visible as she carefully used her cloak to hide the rest. “Shhh… it’s not polite to swear at a friend.” The Eypharian spoke softly in Arumenic to the stranger.

The gesture was subtle, and so were the words, but they conveyed a much deeper meaning. If he spoke her language, she hoped he would be friendly to her race. She also quite pointedly remarked on the fact that she knew what he had said just chimes prior. Yet at the same time, there was secrecy in her gesture, not wanting the common populous or city soldiers to know.



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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Hector Troester on October 5th, 2016, 7:42 pm

Apparently, Hector had reached deeper than usual during his meditative walk. He was rudely thrown back into reality, disoriented and slightly confused. It took him a few moments to realise his surroundings and what he perceived gave him no comfort. He'd left that quiet alley a while ago. He was not lost, the place was familiar; this bridge led straight to the Merchant’s Ring. And what he surely wanted to avoid after that accident, was the crowds attention.

He needed to leave as soon as possible. But this encounter wasn't meant to end like that. Because the dark clad stranger had deftly stepped to block his randomly chosen path of flight. Hector’s cold stare fell upon his new acquaintance. A dark skinned woman, charming and sultry stood before him; her face radiated an eerie calmness. What happened next took him aback. For there were more left index fingers pressed against her lips than what would make the average Ravokian comfortable. A desert dweller, so far from home? The usual slaves’ complacency was nowhere to be found. Words were spoken in a language he was used to hearing ages ago, but had never managed nor cared to learn. A few scattered words and phrases remained in his head, barely enough to make conversation.

Did that Eupharian woman just call him friend?

Did she dare address him in a foreigners tongue?

His eyes darted around instinctively. A couple of bystanders had just decided that their destination was more important than two people bumping against each other. Good. Another one passing, closer than an arm’s length was too deep in prayer to even care. Excellent. A couple of slaves, sent in some errand or other, seemed interested, but when his eyes fell upon them they looked the other way and turned to leave. Who cares about them?

Yet the Ebonstryfe soldiers on that bridge seemed curious about this encounter. He could feel their gaze weighing him down. He could just call her out for the foreigner she was, even accuse her for something trivial or something nasty. And be done with it. But what if they’d heard him uttering that curse? What if they had other questions that he couldn’t find the proper answer?

And more importantly, what could he possibly gain from this situation? Nothing happens without a reason.

What was he to do?

The ticks were ticking for the worst. Two bells, a few chimes ago. Not a good day for outsiders. Not a good day for their company. Great day for a few arrests and a brief walk to the Black Hole. And the soldiers kept staring, definitely interested. And he was there, standing still. Doing nothing.

It dawned to him that if she was in trouble, if she was going to get in trouble, he was already guilty by association. The sweet taste still lingered, which made him wonder if he could muster a bit of the essence he tried to summon a few moments ago. With a deep breath he tried to concentrate. A bit of a hidden message, a slight suggestion would do. As the air poured out of his lungs, djed had already welled into his throat and blended with it. His mouth shaped the words weaving the spell, hiding his suggestion amidst the uttered phrase. He spoke slowly, clearly and perhaps a little louder than he should have.

“Follow me!” That little message was only for her to hear. A sense of great urgency to feel.

What everyone else heard, was so pretentious that could make an actor weep:

“Dear friend! By Rhysol, it’s been too long! I barely recognized you! I visited your father the other day but you were at the Temple ! Come, let us have a drink at the Malt House and catch up!”

Then, he stepped next to her and gave her a little pat on the shoulder, one of her shoulders anyway, trying to urge her to move. If the suggestion had failed, he hoped she was smart enough to know that they had to disappear.

There has to be a quiet alley this way, he thought and walked purposefully, not daring to look back at the soldiers.
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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Sayana on October 5th, 2016, 10:43 pm

Image
The man seemed to freeze, indecision written across his face. Ticks passed and then… he relented. She felt a sudden eagerness, an urgency to follow after him when he beckoned her. And when he spoke, there was only a minor pause in her step before she quickly caught on.

“They say good things come to those who pray diligently to the great lord Rhysol. Coincidences like this are surely a sign of his chaos at work.” Sayana replied, keeping up the light and friendly tone. “I think it’s my turn to treat, don’t you think? Lead on! I swear these streets are playing tricks on me.”

She would follow his lead without the need for further persuasion. She wanted to get moving, to follow, and her curiosity only increased as he led the way. She made a backwards glance towards the black soldiers, but soon regained her focus as he gave her shoulder a pat. There were a couple few eyes on them, but what did it matter? She had found someone who she could relate to. Truly relate and be open with. With anticipation she moved her lower four arms within the folds of her cloak, anxious to finally have some true freedom.

“Are we going to the Malt House? You’ve seen Eypharians before, haven’t you? Are there others this far north?” Her whispers were persistent, yet if he made a gesture or spoke a word to indicate silence, she would stop immediately. “Ravok is a city of freedom. To be who you are. To show your utter devotion to Rhysol…”

It was clear that she wanted confirmation, that she craved a certain level of acceptance so long as she could offer her services to the god who presided over the city. But at the same time, there was an underlying level of uncertainty, in her tone and actions.



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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Hector Troester on October 10th, 2016, 6:33 pm

The need for secrecy and privacy drove them through alleys dark and over a small canal, narrow enough to cross with a slight jump. She followed on with an eagerness he found hard to believe. But her questions, persistent as they were, made him feel that there was no danger or trouble to be found with that foreigner.

As soon as he found a nice and quiet corner, he turned to face her, the look of uncertainty and urgency finally fading out from his face. She was very new here, that could be safely be assumed. It would normally take anywhere from a few chimes to a couple of days for any non-humans and foreigners in Ravok to realise the situation. Xenophobia hanged over this beautiful city, like thick black smoke and the only way to breath the blessed air was to accept Rhysol as the great saviour he was.

Was she really willing to show such devotion? The words she'd spoken earlier were beautifully phrased, much less pretentious than his own. She could definitely play that game well. And she didn't seem to be an easy target for his new-found guile. Perhaps it would be wise to befriend her, keeping as safe a distance as possible and see where it all led.

He needn't try hard to smile that smile of kindness that he was born with. But keeping it real would require a lot of effort. He had to give her the ugly facts and measure her response. Then he could decide whether she was trustworthy or just plain trouble, while at the same time raising himself before her and earning her trust. No harm intended and no harm done.

He sighed as his gaze met her own and spoke with a low voice.
"Listen. You must be very new here or very foolishly brave. Your very existence here in Ravok is dangerous."

He let that phrase seep for a moment and went on.

“No, there aren't many Eupharians this far north. And I'm fairly certain that they all belong to someone. See, your anatomical advantage is not considered acceptable. You will be hated for what you are. Or perhaps be considered a sign of prestige if you get branded.”

By now his words were dreadful enough to cause some kind of reaction. He tried to spot any subtle emotions upon her face or the hint of a reaction from the way she moved. Reading one's thoughts was a difficult task.

“So, waving your hands around is not going to help you experience Ravok as a city of freedom.”

The smile had faded long ago, replaced by the stern emotionless blank face that would normally accompany such a grave statement. He needed to lighten things up. He conjured that grin, bearing all the charm of a serpent as he went on his little sermon.

“But we wouldn't want any of that to happen. I am Hector and I regret being the one to break the news to you. Before you get mad at me, before you despair, let me tell you this. If your intentions and devotion is true, Rhysol will gladly take you under his protection, like all of us. Then you can enjoy this blessed city and all it's beauty.”

He'd grown curious, and perhaps it was time for a few questions, phrased in a calm, casual and friendly manner.

“Pray tell, what brought you here. What do you seek? Did you come such a long way on your own? No one warned you?”

He chuckled at himself and added:

“Perhaps you’d be persuaded to tell me all that over a bit of dinner or wine? There has to be a Ravosala somewhere around that corner...”
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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Sayana on October 20th, 2016, 4:14 am

Image
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at his first words. She had been warned that Ravok could be dangerous, but he seemed to have something more specific in mind. “Eypharians are owners of slaves. We do not take well to becoming someone’s pet. Woe to anyone who tries to capture me for their own. First I’ll take away their sanity, then their limbs, then…”

Her voice had been steadily rising, emotions unchecked, before she finally reined herself in and cut herself short. She was about to make another retort when he mentioned waving her hands around, but this time had the sense to clamp her mouth shut. As he tried to temper his words and break the news more gently, she chewed at her lip trying to decide how much truth he spoke and how much was just some clever ruse. Was her race really subjected to such behaviour? Or was it just a few select individuals not strong enough to hold their own in a foreign city?

“I came with a friend.” She finally replied. “A friend who clearly thought I could hold my own, Eypharian or not.” Then in a more ominous tone she added, “Or a friend who wanted me to experience first-hand, an act of betrayal in the name of Rhysol.”

For a moment she studied him, his offer sinking in. He was tall, sure of himself, and yet she was skeptical as to what his offer implied. Was he leading her into a trap? But then why would he warn her or the city’s apparent dislike of her race? And more importantly, why hadn’t Clyde made some sort of mention of it? With a sigh, the answer to the last question came to her at once. The mage so often had his head in the clouds, lost in some magical phenomenon that it didn’t surprise her that he’d overlook something like that.

“You said your name is Hector? I am Sayana.” She offered out her right high hand, this time being careful to keep her other rights out of view. “If one of those boats will take us somewhere private…”

She left the sentence hanging, with the condition that she would only join him if he promised privacy. However, the first Ravosala that slipped into view had someone in it. For a tick or two, Sayana dismissed it as unsuitable, but then after a while it dawned on her that somebody had to man the boat. Even a private boat would have at least one other person there.

The Ravosala in question was now being unloaded of its passengers upon a wooden dock. Or, more like the wooden street, as so many of the paths and walkways were merely floating wooden platforms attached to the buildings.

“There’s one.” She pointed out. “I’ll trade you tales of my travels for information about this city. Or maybe even a favor… that is, if you can accept one from an Eypharian.” She gave a wink, all the while keeping her voice hushed especially when mentioning her race.

OOCSorry for the delay.

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Being handy is being redundant

Postby Rufio on January 29th, 2017, 9:25 pm

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h e c t o r

Once the intervention on your CS has been lifted, re-submit this thread for your grades!


s a y a n a


xp

Stealth +1
Interrogation +1
Logic +1
Negotiation +1
Flirting +1


lores

Ravok soliders similar to Sylirian knights
Acting: Playing along
Hector: Friend or foe?
Negotiation: Trading tales for information
Eypharian are enslaved in Ravok
Ravok: A dangerous place to be Eypharian


  
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