40th of Fall 520 AV
Yomila was lost.
It should not come as a surprise. The Open Bazaar was a maze of linked stalls that drew unsuspecting visitors deep into the belly of the Outpost. Each seemed more eye-catching than the next, luring and coaxing. It was a monster. A beautiful beast. A living thing and Xyna's own servant and pet. It fed off the coin that passed hands between merchants and customers. The place pulsed with life and the Ethaefal was helpless to ignore its siren call.
She got sucked within.
The sky had still been painted in vivid shades from Syna and Leth's dance on the horizon when she had arrived. Now it was inky and strewn with unknown stars. The change was dizzying; she had not noticed the passage of time while she had curiously wormed her way further, deeper into the Open Bazaar, but now, casting her silver eyes up to see it, she felt a pang of anxiety.
How long had she been here?
Stalls were closing up, items being stored away for next day's trade, decorative display cloths and boxes folded and tucked away. It was a strange sensation, as if being left behind. Of being trapped within the belly of this place.
She had at least gotten what she had come for.. and then some.
A leathersmith had helped her chose a thin snake of a belt, the black leather long enough to wrap around her waist twice. The man had upsold her a pouch to hang off it and she had obliged without hesitation, finding it a brilliant suggestion. Both were now on her person, along with two new knives she had purchased from an earlier stall.
The stall and merchant that had sold her the knives had been far more exotic, the display surface dotted with big, thick, sharp-looking teeth belonging to something the Ethaefal suspected was a big cat - like the Night Lions of the Sea of Grass. Claws, too, bits of smooth, shimmery bone and the odd vine and leaf from an unfamiliar plant. They sat upon an animal skin and ringed the weapons on display, each wildly different. Some looked simple, crude and cruel while others were elegant and slight. The variety had been what initially snagged her attention, but the merchant had been what kept it. Small, rail-thing and leathery, he was the opposite of what she would expect a weaponsmith to be, but he knew the items and explained each in turn.
"Myrian wares from Taloba, the city of warrior-women and their Goddess, Myri!" he had cried, voice thin. His stare was piercing.
She was intrigued.
He explained that the ivory hilt of a hunting knife she had eyed was carved and crafted from Tskanna tusk, huge pachyderm used as beasts of burden with six tusks and one long prehensile nose. Despite his elaborate description, The Ethaefal struggled to get a clear picture of such an unusual beast. She was charmed by the idea and the design carved into the off-white bone. It was a bit more than the simple hunting knife she was after, but something more indulgent, more unique and exotic did sit well with her. She purchased it and a wrist-knife that the merchant had told her could fit in her boot, along with their cases.
Bells had past since then.
Her silver eyes tried to locate these stalls again, searched in earnest for anything that looked familiar. Landmarks, odd looking merchants, a specific shade of cloth that she had seen earlier. Anything. Nothing stuck out, the slide in time and depth of the night had washed all the color away, muting her surroundings.
Yells rang out. Hollers. Strange, guttural and animal-like noises ricocheted off the stalls and tiled walls of the thoroughfares. Her head snapped in the direction they came from, body growing cold. These were not normal noises for this place. These were a swansong of chaos.
Despite the possible danger, the Ethaefal opportunistically used the noise to help her find her way out, following the heated sounds as they bounced through the maze of the Open Bazaar. It was not easy, the many throughways and alleys twisted the sound, contorted it and played with her senses, leading her down a number of wrong paths.
Her persistence paid off.
A disorienting amount of chimes later, she broke free of the Bazaar and was instantly engulfed in the twisted discord that spewed out from the Habub. Her staggering height lent her a distinct advantage here, allowing her to peer over most. It helped her find her bearings. It helped her orient herself to the melee that was unfolding in front of her eyes.
The rest of her celestial form left her at a disadvantage. She was a tempting sight, attractive as a glittering bauble as she glimmered and pulsed powerfully beneath Leth's moonlit caress. It drew unwanted attention; mob-crazed bodies flew towards her like flies to a corpse. She fended some away, shoving flay palms into chests and cheeks. When this did not stop the pressing bodies, she used her own to shoulder into one then another. She needed to get out.
The black, leather-clad members of the Kiess pressed in on all sides of the present anarchy and the maddening drone of shouts and wails hitched and surged again, louder. The mob was alive. It lurched. It spread. It did not care who is fought against.
Yomila's silver eyes cut through the crowd that pressed against her, catching on a pale slip of a woman, dress ruined and ripped, face bloodied. Most were bloodied now, those without weapons resorting to nails, to teeth, but she appeared dazed unlike the frenzied faces around her.
The Ethaefal drew the hunting knife and thrust it threateningly towards a man on her right. "Back," she hissed. To her horror, he threw himself at the blade. The Ethaefal balked, tried to back up but met resistance as another pressed to her back, gripping, grappling at her shirt. A whine shot from her nose.
She thrust the small hunting knife forward, desperate. The man groaned. Pulling back, she did her best to spin out of the other person's tenuous grasp, feeling the linen of her shirt give as it tore beneath the person's grip. She yanked herself away, body pulsing with adrenaline, legs tense with it, and propelled herself towards the bedraggled woman, ignoring the fate of the man she had just stabbed.
"Are you armed?" Her words were still a heated hiss, breath growing labored. Her eyes snuck over her shoulder to the woman, Yomila's back to her as she held the knife out before her, pointed at the swirl of crazed bodies. "What the petch is going on," she asked through gritted teeth.
It should not come as a surprise. The Open Bazaar was a maze of linked stalls that drew unsuspecting visitors deep into the belly of the Outpost. Each seemed more eye-catching than the next, luring and coaxing. It was a monster. A beautiful beast. A living thing and Xyna's own servant and pet. It fed off the coin that passed hands between merchants and customers. The place pulsed with life and the Ethaefal was helpless to ignore its siren call.
She got sucked within.
The sky had still been painted in vivid shades from Syna and Leth's dance on the horizon when she had arrived. Now it was inky and strewn with unknown stars. The change was dizzying; she had not noticed the passage of time while she had curiously wormed her way further, deeper into the Open Bazaar, but now, casting her silver eyes up to see it, she felt a pang of anxiety.
How long had she been here?
Stalls were closing up, items being stored away for next day's trade, decorative display cloths and boxes folded and tucked away. It was a strange sensation, as if being left behind. Of being trapped within the belly of this place.
She had at least gotten what she had come for.. and then some.
A leathersmith had helped her chose a thin snake of a belt, the black leather long enough to wrap around her waist twice. The man had upsold her a pouch to hang off it and she had obliged without hesitation, finding it a brilliant suggestion. Both were now on her person, along with two new knives she had purchased from an earlier stall.
The stall and merchant that had sold her the knives had been far more exotic, the display surface dotted with big, thick, sharp-looking teeth belonging to something the Ethaefal suspected was a big cat - like the Night Lions of the Sea of Grass. Claws, too, bits of smooth, shimmery bone and the odd vine and leaf from an unfamiliar plant. They sat upon an animal skin and ringed the weapons on display, each wildly different. Some looked simple, crude and cruel while others were elegant and slight. The variety had been what initially snagged her attention, but the merchant had been what kept it. Small, rail-thing and leathery, he was the opposite of what she would expect a weaponsmith to be, but he knew the items and explained each in turn.
"Myrian wares from Taloba, the city of warrior-women and their Goddess, Myri!" he had cried, voice thin. His stare was piercing.
She was intrigued.
He explained that the ivory hilt of a hunting knife she had eyed was carved and crafted from Tskanna tusk, huge pachyderm used as beasts of burden with six tusks and one long prehensile nose. Despite his elaborate description, The Ethaefal struggled to get a clear picture of such an unusual beast. She was charmed by the idea and the design carved into the off-white bone. It was a bit more than the simple hunting knife she was after, but something more indulgent, more unique and exotic did sit well with her. She purchased it and a wrist-knife that the merchant had told her could fit in her boot, along with their cases.
Bells had past since then.
Her silver eyes tried to locate these stalls again, searched in earnest for anything that looked familiar. Landmarks, odd looking merchants, a specific shade of cloth that she had seen earlier. Anything. Nothing stuck out, the slide in time and depth of the night had washed all the color away, muting her surroundings.
Yells rang out. Hollers. Strange, guttural and animal-like noises ricocheted off the stalls and tiled walls of the thoroughfares. Her head snapped in the direction they came from, body growing cold. These were not normal noises for this place. These were a swansong of chaos.
Despite the possible danger, the Ethaefal opportunistically used the noise to help her find her way out, following the heated sounds as they bounced through the maze of the Open Bazaar. It was not easy, the many throughways and alleys twisted the sound, contorted it and played with her senses, leading her down a number of wrong paths.
Her persistence paid off.
A disorienting amount of chimes later, she broke free of the Bazaar and was instantly engulfed in the twisted discord that spewed out from the Habub. Her staggering height lent her a distinct advantage here, allowing her to peer over most. It helped her find her bearings. It helped her orient herself to the melee that was unfolding in front of her eyes.
The rest of her celestial form left her at a disadvantage. She was a tempting sight, attractive as a glittering bauble as she glimmered and pulsed powerfully beneath Leth's moonlit caress. It drew unwanted attention; mob-crazed bodies flew towards her like flies to a corpse. She fended some away, shoving flay palms into chests and cheeks. When this did not stop the pressing bodies, she used her own to shoulder into one then another. She needed to get out.
The black, leather-clad members of the Kiess pressed in on all sides of the present anarchy and the maddening drone of shouts and wails hitched and surged again, louder. The mob was alive. It lurched. It spread. It did not care who is fought against.
Yomila's silver eyes cut through the crowd that pressed against her, catching on a pale slip of a woman, dress ruined and ripped, face bloodied. Most were bloodied now, those without weapons resorting to nails, to teeth, but she appeared dazed unlike the frenzied faces around her.
The Ethaefal drew the hunting knife and thrust it threateningly towards a man on her right. "Back," she hissed. To her horror, he threw himself at the blade. The Ethaefal balked, tried to back up but met resistance as another pressed to her back, gripping, grappling at her shirt. A whine shot from her nose.
She thrust the small hunting knife forward, desperate. The man groaned. Pulling back, she did her best to spin out of the other person's tenuous grasp, feeling the linen of her shirt give as it tore beneath the person's grip. She yanked herself away, body pulsing with adrenaline, legs tense with it, and propelled herself towards the bedraggled woman, ignoring the fate of the man she had just stabbed.
"Are you armed?" Her words were still a heated hiss, breath growing labored. Her eyes snuck over her shoulder to the woman, Yomila's back to her as she held the knife out before her, pointed at the swirl of crazed bodies. "What the petch is going on," she asked through gritted teeth.
nanocount 1,125
purchase 8.40 GM
purchase 8.40 GM
