PM to join Trip Trop, the Water stinks a lot.

Exploring what really goes into the ocean.

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Trip Trop, the Water stinks a lot.

Postby Akorcho on August 29th, 2019, 6:21 am


Denvali Quarter
-Raster Street
--Water's End Flats.

Date: 10th Summer 519
Morning, Sunny.

Every tale has a beginning.
Sometimes it’s wild like a great story unfolding, sometimes it’s the tragedy of a prisoner unable to escape a villain and other times it’s lemons that we start with.

Akorcho was studying that very lemon in his hand, specifically looking at the shadow on its underside. Using two fingers to turn the lemon precisely, directed toward the sun’s illumination. “Won’t find better lemons anywhere.” The trader insisted. Though none of the familiar tribe were paying much attention. The fact a trader had wandered into their little tribal corner here had yet to daunt the Drykas trader from trying to sell something to every single one of them. So outspoken about his goods was he, Akorcho’s attention almost broke from keen lemon focused observations.

At times it was difficult to think of these city-dwelling Chaktawe as a tribe of anything, yet Kalanue they are and always would be. Living in close proximity to one another, and often under closer scrutiny of their neighbours, their own little courtyard along the main street. Washing lines strung from one property to the other, barrels storing miscellaneous spare items, pulled into the street to share. To be fair, the extended family here were standoffish to the locals and did little to ingratiate themselves to their nearby Denvali Quarter inhabitants. Fortunately for them, they did little to cause commotion either, keeping to themselves in an otherwise tight-knit community.

This micro-community inside the larger one saw only the brave, stubborn or new traders selling fruit and other goods when they passed by this little courtyard in the middle of nowhere on a hillside. Our Drykas trader named Kito Ashwind embodied all three qualities. “How much,” Akorcho asked, his simple brown shirt caught in a strange gust was another oddity to note, rattling the longsword on his hip. While further up the street it might be something of a wind tunnel, their courtyard was sheltered from the proximity of the tribe’s housing. A design not unlike they would pitch their less permanent tents in the wilds, to better shield each other from the elements, many here still called these houses their city-tents or just cients for short.

Akorcho didn’t have long before the Drykas trader was almost on top of him, his large overweight body, strong odor, and fiercely large grin haggling a suitable price for a few lemons and more importantly three thin empty glass bottles. It wasn’t in Akorcho to haggle, so he simply stated a price and waited for the man to accept, it was a fair price and he wouldn’t be budged far from it. Accepting two glass bottles and three lemons, he nodded politely, coins exchanging hands with a passing word of thanks between the two before Kito left.

Job one done. Akorcho looked to the sky to try and discern a sense of time, focusing on the level of light, the noise in the air from the city, and the smells coming from the locals. Trying and failing miserably to guess. How far he’d fallen from the natural wildling talents of his people. He pondered internally at the thought, a respite which didn’t last long. All this had been killing time till his sister Daekara arrived. Eagerly awaiting the sound of her calling Dato. Dato, his pet nickname, gained from green marble and raspberry, but well that’s a much longer story for later. He needed her enthusiasm right now, as a certain feeling of loneliness had gripped his stomach.

Time Passed. Chimes, maybe a bell. The grin was now a frown, as he could tell from the people coming and going around his tribal flats at this bell of day that she should be here by now.

Pocketing the lemons and vials, the search began, the first of many. “Have you seen Daekara?” Straight to the point and asked more than once. He pulled his brown hood tighter, again caught by an offputting breeze. Moving with purpose between the tribe’s members that sat or talked in the street. Getting no word for several more chimes, the Chakatwe had almost given up. The two siblings traveled together most days and it was unlike his sister to forget about a meeting they had arranged.

“She left early.” An older blind woman answered, Akorcho crouched, “how early?” he asked, straight to the point as usual only heightened by his concern. “I do not see the time, as you might wish it, but I hear its passing. Last her voice met my ears, I have heard three bells since come ago go, perhaps more young one.” Akorcho tapped her shoulder in familiar thanks, and she patted his wrist, but his concern was evident. Breathing deep, he was about to ask the obvious, but like often in life it was answered for him. “She mentioned the old house at the water's edge.” It didn’t take long to click in his mind where she’d headed.

Stupid of her to go alone, he was already moving off at a run. It didn’t occur to him that he too was now going alone.

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Pulvis et umbra sumus
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Joined roleplay: August 27th, 2019, 7:07 pm
Race: Chaktawe
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