Fantasy IC - Chapter 1A: "Blood On My Hands, Dirt On My Boots" (Kildra)

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Savagai in the previous IC



Savagai as
Rufus Nevarron of House Nevarron

_____​

Location: Nevarron Castle, Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 14


Time: The eighth hour of night (8 P.M.)

_____​

Rufus stormed out of the throne room towards his own dorms. On his face was an angry expression, but he tried to smile towards the people he saw in the hallways. He failed however. He opened the door and sat down on his soft couch.


His father was going crazy. He was really going to kill his father if he made another stupid move, even if it was a very small one.


The Nevarron Family has been against slaves since their introduction. Now, a century later, his Father had bought a slave, some young T'Odis girl. The Nevarrons were famous for not having slaves... When he got to his father to ask if he could give the slave freedom he answered:


"Little boy, The Nevarron Family is going to end here with you, so if I can actually do anything about it, I will."


After that comment he had ran away. He needed to get the slave free, flee with her and come back when his father died or something so he could claim the ownership. And he had to get a plan how to get a child or something. He thought of his boyfriend who was living quite some ways away. They have been together for nearly five years now... five years, Rufus thought, it was a long time. He secretly hoped he could get his own land, starting his own nation. His people would follow him, they loved him. He could make his own rules.


He stood up and walked towards a large table. On the table lay the map of Azae. He checked to see how far T'Odis was.

The following was originally posted by @Zooks in the previous IC



@Zooks as
Lilly the Slave Girl​

_____​

Location: Nevarron Castle, Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 14


Time: 9th hour of night (9 P.M.)

_____

​

Soft footsteps echoed to the exclusion of all else. It was so late in the night there wasn't a single person tracking the corridors or halls. It was almost a ghost town through the huge estate. Even the cooking women had retired to get some rest before awakening shortly after the break of Dawn to prepare loaves of bread and the day's meals. It seemed the only one still awake was a timid young girl as she slowly made her way through the wide and long halls, shivering as she did. "Pli ys glara mu vor? (Why is there no fur?)" she muttered in smooth voice from native language, more to herself. Finally an ornate doorway came before her and her soft steps paused before it. Her gaze drifting up to the high-rise ceiling as she took a moment to gather herself.


How many years had she done this? Her culture was somewhat less versed in the intricacies of time, and more so significant events. The first day a boy killed a beast. The first born child of a mother and father. The joining of two lovers in the T'Odis version of 'marriage'. And the day a girl first became a woman. She was saddened momentarily that again she was left to experience that, alone, and not long ago either. Her shifting body confusing and bewildering her and again she missed the comfort of her Mother's love to explain to her what it all meant. But she was taken... to young.... Taken from her family and used, like this.


She took a sharp breath inwards, steeling herself, promising to herself she would not cry out this time, she would not scream or writhe, simply allow it to happen. She was a fully grown woman now, no child, she needed to act like one. She promised herself that every time but, every time... she failed herself. It never got any easier, and less threatening or terrifying. Letting her soft fingertips brush against the door frame she pushed inwards and slowly creaked the doors opened, before slipping them just as silently behind her. The gust of wind from the closing door making her long, snow-white hair flutter momentarily before resting against her shoulders and hips. Her blue gaze turned down to the floor as she did learn most Nobles seemed to like that...A steady gaze almost always annoyed them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the feet of a man as he half bent over a table, reading something it seemed.


She took a soft cough then, to grasp his attention, as she slowly unclasped her cloak and let the heavy thing slide and land in a puddle at her bare feet.


It became apparent only now the reason why the girl was half shivering, and the cold drafts of the hallways affected her so. She was wearing close to nothing... A thin, invisible material that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. A hand lifting up to grasp at her opposite elbow though her gaze still remained to the floor. Goosebumps covered the entirety of her skin, half in fear, and half with a chill. Thighs crossing somewhat in a coy manner. Her chest still growing it seemed, but decidedly heavier then when she had first been taken and brought to Kildra. A petite, elegant frame now. Only two other items on a her person, a beautifully jeweled choker necklace, coated in fine Sapphires to match her blue eyes. And a silver twisted metal bar wrapped around her right thigh not unlike a bracelet. The low light gleaming off it.


Finally, working the courage to use her soft voice, she spoke. Her voice a beautiful soprano though Common words seemed clunky coming from her soft lips.


"Lord Noble... offers mine duty.... Insisted..." She tried to explain.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Lord Zanicus in the previous IC


@Lord Zanicus as

The Masked Assassin Vyran AKA Var'Qo Zaat​

_____​

Location: Capital of Kein, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 6


Time: The 3rd hour of night (3 P.M.)

_____​

Boot Strap maintained his distance ten paces behind the party. His gaze, still alert and wandering despite of the late hours. So when he first laid eyes on the majestic walls of Kildra's Capital, Kein, the sixteen-year-old's jaw dropped, completely awed. The structures and landscape here were nothing like the ones where their ship had docked at. Nowhere near nor similar to the port's architectural design. He'd not imagined a world such as this as he made his way here — the way the land itself reached out impossible distances, he could have sworn he'd seen a curvature to the world. And so much life, in the grasses and in the sky. In the seasonal tiny flowers erupted from every hillside and even on the trees. All his life, he had lived with seasoned and rugged seamen — all crowded into the small belly of Jessy's Jug, under the guiding hands of his own uncle, Wet Stash.


Here though, in this extraordinary place, he'd discovered a new life. Winds never carried with them the saltiness of the sea nor do they stink of urine and the stench of rotting dead skin that'd clung onto each man's flesh, for who knows exactly how long. He'd no idea it was so refreshing to take in a deep breathe, here. On top of that, there was room, so much room. He'd not recalled having bumped his shoulders into the others over the period of this journey.


Perhaps, the youth dared believe, after this, there would be the chance to establish their own place to call home. No more looting or treasure seeking campaigns, no more fighting and killing. Here, there will be peace.


Suddenly, his admiration of the city was disrupted by the sight of his companions' looming backs. Boot Strap stopped in his track and peered in between the men to have a look at what was ahead.


“Do you think he'll be in there?” asked the stout and muscle-bulked Quartermaster.


“Who knows?” came the Captain's husky reply. “But what other choice do we have?”


“I guess all we need to do now, is carry out the steps which that Kildran-merchant have informed us of!”


“Indeed!” said Wet Stash before he glanced back over a shoulder. “Boot? You come with me!” he paused. “The rest of you, get into position!” the Captain took a moment to look around before he pointed to a fairly dark alley. “Over there!” another pause. “Trigger, you find a good vantage point covering that area!”


“Aye!” acknowledged Trigger


“Hmm!” nodded the giant Northman, White Mast.


“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” saluted the ever so enthusiastic Bent Dime before the agile individual scurried off.


“Good luck, Captain!” Stiff Tail wished as they clasped at each other's wrist, shook and then parted ways.


Boot Strap read the gentle swaying signage above the only door with lights pouring out of its slit footing, “High O' Ale Tavern”, probably one of the Capitol's many taverns that's situated near the city outskirts. And what were the odds of them finding the person they sought after, in this particular one? They best give it up, for the chance seemed quite slim. However, to do just that also meant they'd have to abandon the notion of revenge. His father's soul would have wandered between the two realms for eternity. Lost and without peace, unavenged.


Unlike most tavern the pirates have visited, High O' Ale Tavern wasn't as lively as they'd expected. It was thick with smoke and the scent of tobacco was heavy. There were merely a handful of people within. Absence of a bard's touch, absence of the usual merry making and commotions which usually accompanied such a place. Boot followed his uncle to a table, eyes blinking from the stinging smoke as he surveyed every faces turned their way. His attention was then drawn to a lonesome individual in the far end of the room. Hooded and seated on the rear two legs of a chair, with both feet crossed over the table. An amber glow could be seen from the corner of the man's lip, yet most of his facial features remained in the shadow. Boot all of a sudden felt a surge of adrenaline rush. For a moment, he was certain they'd found their target. With a trembling hand, Boot reached for the throwing knife hidden inside his sleeve.


It'll soon be over!


“Not yet, Boot!” a husky whisper, voiced. “We want him caught, red-handed!”


“...aye, sir!” the boy replied with a hint of disappointment.


“Here,” Stash slid a blank note towards him. “Pin it up on the board over there!”

* * * * *​

He watched as his nephew stood and walked over towards the board. His eyes scanning over the tavern's occupants, studying their body languages and reactions, searching for telltale signs of the assassin. Both his Quartermaster and him have made a prediction that the killer would be here, keeping an eye on the board and on whoever have put up the note. He believed the assassin they were after should be one of the men within the tavern.


“G-g-good evening, s-s-sir!” stuttered a voice from his left. “W-w-welcome to High O' Ale T-t-tavern!” greeted a hunched-back young man with half his face bandaged in a dirty and wet brownish rag. “W-w-what would you like to drink, s-s-sir?” he asked.


“Give us the tavern's finest,” Stash replied, his brows furrowed in disgust at the dirt-covered face under the tattered hood of an equally dirty cloak. “And tell me, what's the name of the owner to this place?”


“G-g-gil, sir! Th-th-the owner name is-is-is Gil, sir!” the young man then gestured with his head towards the Bartender.


“Well, tell him to get another helper for the tavern! One with a pleasant looking face!” said Stash before dismissing the ugly staff.


The Captain noticed how the waiter had an arm folded and tucked tightly to the chest, along with the distinctive limp where he seemed to be dragging and throwing a foot far out ahead in his gait. A cripple, how badly business must have been for this tavern to have hired someone of such state. Stash's gaze followed him to the bar. After a brief exchange of words between the owner and his helper, Gil looked in his direction. Judging from the man's built, Stash could tell the man was no ordinary Bartender, but he wasn't sure if Gil was Var'Qo Zaat.


“Borka! Hey, Borka!” came the sudden and loud hailing from a drunken customer.


“Y-y-yes, Master?” the crippled waiter replied.


“Hajunt's below! Where's ma damn -hic- refill!?”


“Ah! R-r-right away, Master Hew!”


“Gah! How many times must I -hic- tell you not to call me that? People might get the wrong idea! -hic- Just call me, sir, like you -hic- addressed the others!”


“Y-y-yes, Master Hew!”


“Damn you, you ugly piece of -hic- scat!” barked the drunkard patron as he fumbled to a stand, one hand reaching for the hilt of the short sword by his waist.


“That is enough, Hew!” exclaimed the Ranger from the far end of the room. “Draw your sword and you'll walk out of here an arm less than whence you'd entered!”


“Tch! Hajunt be damned! Stay out of this, -hic- Dean Fury!”


“Do you really want to go through this, boy?” challenged the Ranger with merely a slight raise of his head.


“Tch! Just get me ma refill, Borka!”


Stash turned to look at his nephew upon the boy's return. And like him, he noticed how intensely Boot seemed to be reading the situation, fishing for a tell as well. At that point of time, it was almost difficult for him to hide how proud he was with the boy, through his facial expression. Gil, he suspected, might be the man they were after. The Bartender was surprisingly calm and collected, without even taking a glance at his threatened employee. Then again, the Ranger appeared to be somewhat authoritative himself, as if he was hired to watch over the tavern. Perhaps Boot did have a good eye after all.


Time flew by. The pirates studied the crowd a little longer while only taking a couple of sip from their drink, staying sober for their later task. They watched as the owner dismissed the crippled waiter early, perhaps afraid that Hew, who seemed to be the same age as Boot, might cause him harm. As the numbers dwindled down, Stash finally decided to leave the tavern. He then told Boot to keep watch on the door from a distant and report which way the Ranger and the Bartender would go. Hew, the young drunkard, was ultimately ruled out, for it would be impossible for the boy to be the one who killed his brother, Silver Patch, since the murder took place more than a decade ago!

* * * * *​

“There! That ain't so hard now, ain't it?” asked Bent Dime with a grin stretching from one ear to the other. “He ne'er saw it comin'! Hah!”


“Hmm!” a monotone acknowledgement from the T'Odis sounded.


“Now, two more and we are done!” Said Dime as he wiped the fresh blood from his dagger onto his leather pants. “After this, things be back to é way it was! É hunt for treasures and riches shall resume!” the scrawny pirate spat on the stone ground. “This obsession of theirs, had us goin' nowhere! Goin' for far too long! And with Dirt Tooth's blessing, our second-mate, it shall end on this very night!” scowled Dime.


“Sgesl..” Mast said.


“Wut?”


“Sg–...”


“Dime?” came the familiar husky voice. “Dime? Where's Stiff Tail?”


“Ah! Sta–.. Cap'n? Yer back? Yer back!”


“Where is Stiff Tail?”


“There!” Dime pointed deeper into the alley and at the darkness. “It was him! It was Vark O' Zart!” he feigned sadness.


“What?”


Dime almost flinched as Stash rushed and slipped between the pirates to study the body of the Quartermaster. Looks were then exchanged between the Northman and him. Composure restored. A silent conversation took place. They both nodded before arming themselves with their weapon. Dime spun his fang-shaped dagger on his finger by the hole at the weapon's base while Mast tightened his grip on his massive battle axe.


Stash glanced over his shoulder to ask how long Stiff was dead but no sound came as his eyes widened. “Dime! Behind you!” warned the Captain as he hurried to his feet and unsheathed his curved sword.


“Wut?” Dime felt the hair on the back if his neck stood on its end, he turned and as if from the dark wall itself, he noticed the face of a skeleton looking back at him. “GGAAAAAHHH!” Dime screamed as he suddenly felt his face got torn by a blinding flash of light.


Yet, he lived, staggering a couple of steps backwards. The wound did not kill him. Dime looked down to his chest and noticed Mast's axe have pushed him back, enough to avoid the otherwise fatal blow. Still, it hurts as Hajunt's whipped ass. A hand reached up to his face, pressing against the loose flap of sticky wet skin back up over his nose. His vision was already blurry then. But he could still tell who's who. Naturally, Dime backed away from the engaging warriors. It looked as if both the Captain and the T'Odis were being pushed back by a shadow.


Even the T'Odis?


What's odd about the battle, Dime noticed, was the absence of clashing steel. Their assailant have not once blocked an attack with the short sword. He'd either dodged or blocked their attacking arm with his hand. And his every strike almost seemed true, barely giving the men room to escape unscathed. Just what sort of training did he went through? And a battle absent of its usual clashing and ringing steel was like combatting with death itself. Dime soon found himself trembling. Not only was the rumour and the Captain's accusations were true, he'd also now realised they'd lacked knowledge about this assassin, knowing not a single fact about his capability.


As silently as he could, Dime backed himself against the wall. The moment he witnessed the Captain fell to his knees, he turned and started climbing, scaling the walls with hope of escaping.

* * * * *​

It's over, now! I've avenged you, Papa!


Boot made his way back towards the Tavern along the narrow corridor. He was panting and was covered in blood. His hands was still trembling from his first kill. The Ranger wasn't as tough as he looked, thought the young boy. He smiled and then sniffed, overwhelmed all of a sudden by a decade long bottled up emotion. Tears started welling up. He'd done it, Boot told himself. It was he, Boot Strap, son of Silver Patch and nephew to Wet Stash, he killed the assassin, he killed the White-Faced Shadow, he killed Var'Qo Zaat!


It is over, now...


What he saw next had him frozen in place. Suddenly bound by an invisible rope and gagged by an unseen rag. His jaw dropped. Not entirely in awe this time, but rather, in fear. His uncle was seen kneeling, both hands busy gathering something that'd spilled unto the ground before him. Boot flinched upon realising what it was Stash was gathering, his own intestines. Quickly, he shifted his attention to White Mast. The giant seemed to still be fighting. The boy squinted, searching for the assailant. His eyes widened once again upon noticing the weapon the assassin was holding.


Hew?


But, the irrational youth was clearly drunk, he protested. Besides, he's too young to be the same one who'd murdered his father. What was going on? And where was Stiff, where was Dime? Not long, Mast collapsed face first unto the ground, blood spraying into crimson mist from his neck. For the briefest of time, Boot spotted the cloaked and masked individual as he stood over the fallen giant, before he disappeared into the shadow.


No, it's not over still...

* * * * *​

There wasn't any chance for a clear shot. The longer he spent staring down the aiming sight, the more the darkness played tricks on his eyes. Trigger had to occasionally look away towards the silhouette of the Capitol's main building before he began pointing the crossbow to his target again. For the duration of the whole fight, not once was he given a clear shot of the masked shadow without killing his own comrades.


Spotting Boot standing stumped at a dozen or so paces away, Trigger contemplated if he should carry out Dirt Tooth's command instead. He wasn't quite sure, so he searched for Dime. The scrawny pirate was seen levelled to him a couple of houses down and was balancing himself on a high wall, walking towards his general direction. Trigger wanted to wave him over but had to reconsider when he saw Var'Qo Zaat emerging and rising as if from the very wall, behind Dime.


Trigger instinctively held his breathe and took aim. His finger, pulling back slowly on the release mechanism of his crossbow. Another fight ensued atop the narrow path of the wall. Dime was losing and was seconds away from getting a short sword buried in his back. However, just before Trigger could commit himself with the attack, he felt a cold blade slid under his very throat. Trigger pulled his head back and released the bolt, sending it over the corridor and Boot below before it found its mark, sending Var'Qo Zaat over the edge.


The crossbow wielder then turned around, ignoring the sharp and stinging pain across his throat. Trigger shook his head in disbelief as right there before him, loomed Var'Qo Zaat. Impossible, Trigger knew he'd gotten this fellow, yet how was he here? Merely reacting on impulse, Trigger grabbed a bolt from his thigh and attempted at stabbing the assassin. His attack failed miserably as Var'Qo Zaat effortlessly stopped him at the bicep with something just as cold as the blade — that almost claimed his head — from earlier. Desperate, Trigger dropped his crossbow and reached out to grab the assassin, with intention to either pull the masked one with him or to deliver another stab.


Something rattled and slices then, a flash of light too have taken place before the distinct sound of splattering liquid could be heard. Trigger found himself losing his footing. He slipped and fell backwards seemingly in a slow motion. In his hand which he'd attempted to grab his attacker, was a piece of dirty bandage and rag, covered in grime and dirt. With a thud, Trigger made contact with the ground not long after the fall. But he felt no pain. He then found himself rolling for a little bit, probably down a slight slope, he thought, before coming to a full stop. His face was covered and smeared with something hot. Trigger couldn't hear anything, nor can he feel his own limbs. Something wasn't right. He blinked. The stone ground was too close to his face, flushed in fact against his cheek. It shouldn't be possible. He blinked again. There should be a shoulder preventing such a thing from happening.


Boot?


He saw Boot approaching him, then, gathered him up with two hands, effortlessly. The boy had tears running down his cheeks. Trigger again blinked and as soon as he did, Boot brought him close to chest. Darkness began creeping in from the edges of his vision then.


Wait, what? No...


Trigger then blinked no more...

* * * * *​

This night have been the most exhaustive night Dime had ever experienced. Not only physically, but also both mentally and emotionally. He was certain, Var'Qo Zaat was behind him earlier, but as soon as Trigger's bolt struck the man — at least he'd like to believe it did — Var'Qo Zaat have appeared behind his comrade, Trigger, a couple of block away. Dime couldn't quite comprehend what was going on or how he did it. He glanced over his shoulder and looked down the wall, there was no sign of there being another assassin. So how did the man get there so fast? Was the part that he could be in two places at the same time also be true? Or that he was indeed a phantom? Inhuman?


Dime watched as Trigger's lifeless body slid down the rooftop before his friend's head rolled away from the body. Cold sweat rolled down his spine. He was trembling so violently it almost seemed like he was shivering beyond the Great Gate of the north. Slowly, he raised his head gaze back towards the killer. Var'Qo Zaat at this point of time seemed to be distracted by something in the west. The man had his attention fixed on the horizon. Dime followed and looked but saw nothing.


Wait a minute, why waste this opportunity? With a quick and fluid motion, Dime tossed the fang-shaped dagger with all his might. Coincidentally, Boot was also doing the same thing with his throwing knife. Catch him while he's distracted, both opportunistic pirate came with the same strategy.


Dime was grinning as he anticipated the damage they would do. Alas, the excitement lasted all but too briefly as the assassin deflected his dagger to then catch Boot's and as if with a flick of the wrist, sent it somewhere. All this without even looking. How in Azae was he —


“Urgh!” something suddenly jabbed at Dime's throat.


It was hard to swallow. Harder even to breath. The more he tried, Dime found that he was taking in a thick hot fluid into his lungs instead. He gurgled and spat blood from his mouth. His hands reached up to his neck, touching something jutting out the side of his neck. Panicked, he pulled it out and his eyes once again grew wide. Boot's dagger. His realisation appeared to be the cue for his brain to shut down, since everything suddenly went all dark for him. Consumed by the abyss just like the rest had.

* * * * *​

What is that? A lightning storm?


Looks like it!


But what's that black globe? Ink?


Don't know.


Stay away from it, Vyran! Don't you dare think about it!


Too late!


He already did!


...Hew, yet lived...


Such a phenomenon usually have bad news as its companion!


I agree!


Still, that wouldn't stop him!


Indeed!


It didn't stop him when he's a boy and it certainly won't stop him now!


But what did he hope to find?


A friend perhaps? An enemy? Or a girl?


Power...


What?


Ridiculous!


What if it's death instead?


Every living thing must come to an end!


Naturally! But this won't be natural! It's equivalent to suicide!


It's yet to be certain!


Pshaw! Which side are you on?


Sides?


...Only the pirate boy is left!


Kill him!


No! Cut off his legs instead!


Send him to that storm instead!


Silence! He moved!
​

Vyran finally tore his gaze away from the amazing event and stared down at the boy named, Boot. From behind his mask, his glare almost seemed to say, “Live and get stronger! Then come find me if you still desire revenge! I'll be waiting!”. A heartbeat later, he was gone, having turned and leapt off into the dark alley below.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by bottlecap in the previous IC


@bottlecap as

Head of Iorn's City Guard Jison V'Arnak​

_____​

Location: Castle Iornia, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, day 14


Time: The seventh hour of the morning (7 A.M.)

_____​

Jison was standing in the middle of an open field. It was as though there was a thick mist gathered just at the edge of his vision, and not an inch further. The ground didn't seem it's usual thin blades of grass and rolling expanses. Instead it was as if he were viewing it out of the corner of his eye no matter how closely he looked. For some reason, he didn't care to either. He could feel the presence of his home at his back without looking. Iorn rose above him, and how he knew it he could not tell. He heard the war cry of a thousand men from all directions, and saw their shadows dance among the haze directly across the field. They approached faster than humanly possible, or rather, equestrian ability granted them. Instinct told him to draw his sword, but by the time he had grabbed it's hilt the galloping black mass was upon him. He was grabbed by unseen arms and thrust upon the ground. Two faces appeared above the darker vehement stairs of ghostly warriors. He could not truly place their features, but somehow knew they were friendly. Slowly they were eclipsed by the evil restraining him, and he awoke.


He did not start or jolt awake. His eyes simply snapped open and his brow furrowed. His unlit chandelier met his gaze on the ceiling, and he remembered where he was. In his chambers; the morning sunlight filtering through his window onto his bed. Immediately he cast the dream from his mind. One of many, he had no reason to dwell. He pulled his fur blanket off his body, the skinned hide of a Kildran forest bear, big enough to cover Jison's massive body. He lumbered sleepily to his wardrobe, sweeping his trousers from the floor with a foot and grabbing them off a raised leg out of laziness. He put them on as he walked, moving through his simply furnished chambers like a giant through a forest. He stubbed his smallest toe on the wardrobe when he reached it, and his half mooned eyes didn't budge an inch. His groggy face shown he could not care less about the pain in his foot.


Sluggishly he assembled his leather vest and spalders. He strapped his massive gray blade onto his back, it's half sheathe showing it's dimly lit blade as he turned to reach for his bronze circlet. He placed it upon his head and headed for the door. He opened his passage way and ducked to leave. The room had been furnished to his size, but they could not cut out a larger door from the stone for fear of ruining the integrity of the wall. This did not bother Jison. It reminded him every morning what world he was living in. Outside his quarters were the Guard's barracks. Beds with footlockers stretching at least fifty meters to the other end. Mainly younger cadets or recruits going about their day, as the older guards with higher pay often had family homes or apartments not far from Castle Iorn. A few beat their chest or gave the captain an "Aye" as he passed, to which he replied with gruff "aye" and "hm."


Further on in the castle kitchen breakfast was being prepared. The cooks and maids went about their business without acknowledging the rather regular presence of a giant in their midst. He took an apple from a stack of ingredients, and from the palm of his hand it was immediately snatched by a tall slender man with a hard looking face and a single arm. His chef's hat was askew atop his head, and he turned without a word from the T'Odis guard captain. Jison gave almost a sad smile to the back of the chef's head.


"Markuriooooo!" Jison moaned, his voice now more awake yet barely functional coupled with sleep and his thick accent. He wined the chef's name like a child speaking to their mother. "I am hungryyyyyyyy. I had rough night. Please just one apple!"


"NO!" The chef's hard gravely voice answered back without a glance. He had placed the apple back and was currently chopping carrots with surprising precision with only one hand. Markurio had never told Jison, or anyone else in the castle for that matter, how he had lost his arm. Jison often imagined a battle with a brick oven had claimed the appendage, as it seemed the only event fearsome enough to best the chef. "You will wait at the table with the family, like every morning before this one. I pray to Azae for the day you sleep in and do not bother my staff!"


"Your staff has never minded my presence, Markurio." Jison replied, grinning at a plump cook about his age he knew as Marie, who returned his grin and giggled behind her work. He passed her to leave and she slipped him a loaf of bread. Exiting into the dining hall he was greeted with the stiffening of two fully armored guards. "Ease, brothers, ease! Is only I." The two relaxed again and gave Jison a nod and greeted him seperately.


"Good morning captain,"


"Mornin Cap'n!" They both said cheerily. Guards were tasked with much more than simply standing watch over the castle here. They were the fortresses clock. These two were up from the midnight shift, and when the sundial pointed to nine they would wake their next comrades for their shifts, and so on. Jison was the first member of the "family" in the dining hall. Most of the members were actually adopted into the Iorn family, as was tradition for the upper 1 percent class in the city. About six blood families made up the current cast of the castle. Joining him soon would be advisers and those members, filling in places at the massive table. Kindral was often the last one awake in the morning, and this irritated Jison without fail every last sunrise.


Just as Jison predicted, the masters of treasury, a priest of Azae, and the chief adviser filed in one by one yawning and shuffling aged feet. All were easily over fifty, as they had all been there since Kindral was a prince himself, long before Jison's arrival at the castle. Many had reproached the lord for his choice of appointing Jison to the court, but by this time they were all on friendly terms. A rather plump man, Myriad, took a spot across from Jison. The T'Odis had rather liked his presence, though thinking the lord of treasury a bit pompous. Spying the small loaf of bread Jison had nicked from the kitchen, Myriad spoke the first words at the table for the morning in a hushed tone.


"I don't suppose you'd be willing to share?"


Jison let out a low laugh in reply and tore off another piece for himself.


"Aye, I thought that'd be your answer." He said, reaching into his coin purse at his side and pulling three gold coins. "All yours, my friend. Just give us a piece, eh?"


Jison was truly amused. "How can small piece of bread be worth more than some men's day's pay to you, ah?"


"Value and worth are two different things, my T'Odis companion!" He tapped the side of his nose and gave a wink. Realizing he was not going to score the bread, he replaced his money into it's bag.


"It seems having friends in right place is worth more than gold, then, no?"


"Aye, you may be onto something there, but there's not enough money in my store rooms to bribe any of Markurio's staff, that's certain."


The two shared an understanding chuckle and Jison gave a hearty "AYE" this being the truth. Markurio answered only to the Lord himself, and took no trouble from anyone. He ran his kitchen tighter than a Parshum ship captain. That was when the table was graced with the sudden presence of child like beauty. The Lord's three daughters had entered with their morning guard. The oldest, Angelica, sat two seats down from Jison on the other side of her father's chair. Matilda sat beside her. Their hair was braided by their handmaidens down opposite sides of their heads. The youngest, no more than nine, took her spot immediately beside Jison, as was the custom in the morning. She slouched in her chair, and reached for Jison's loaf of bread without a word. Jison made no move to keep it away, and smiled at the sleepy girl's messy hair. Patty refused to let the Maid's touch her for any reason short of a festival, and seeing theirs had ended last night she had no reason to let her blonde messy main be groomed. She was no larger than Jison's calf, and yet he could not be bullied by anyone in the castle save the small human. She gave the smallest of "fankyu's" as she bit into Jison's prize, and Myriad also didn't seem to mind where the bread had ended up.


By this time the rest of the extensive family had joined them, all save for Kindrel. Various other adopted prince's and ladies dotted the table, leaving only the Lord's place empty. All made minor entertaining conversation, and Jison boded his time trying to ignore his stomach growling, playing a game of "catch the mouse," as she called it, with Patty. He let one of his large fingers roam around the table just out of reach while she chased it with one of her minuscule hands, attempting to catch it and hold it down.


Finally the doors at the far end opened and every head turned. No one ever let out a sigh of relief, for fear of being disrespectful, but the relief in the room was palpable. Cooks had been waiting at the other end of the room, watching for Kindrel's entrance, and immediately began bringing out the food. All was still warm from preparation. Pies, cakes, meat pies, lamb, bacon, jerky, and many many loaves of bread lined the table in moments. A regular sized apple pie found itself directly in front of Jison, and he grinned from ear to ear. Apple was his favorite. There are many things about Jison which frustrated Markurio, but the pride of both was obvious in what they did. Markurio had been one of the first to shake Jison's hand last night when he returned to the castle. This was an obvious thank you for defending the honor of Iorn. Markurio gave special meals to no one.


The meal passed with plenty of conversation and as much energy as a morning can hold. Kindrel leaned over to Jison as it was coming to a close, just after having his ear whispered in by his eldest daughter.


"My daughter wonders if you and I might be free this afternoon for some shopping." Kindrel spoke with a tone of amusement. He found it funny that his daughters would rather be accompanied by the lord and his right hand than any of the hosts of giggling girls in the castle. Jison leaned past Kindral and saw Eliza's wide grin and Angela's pleading eyes.


"They will be needing guard will they not? We shall go." All three of the girls seemed content with this answer, and Jison went back to his leg of lamb happily.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Zooks as a collaboration post with Savagai in the previous IC


@Zooks as

Lilly

Savagai as

Rufus

_____​

Location: Castle Nevarron, Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 14


Time: The ninth hour of the night (9 P.M.)

_____​

Rufus was looking at the map but he was still angry at his father behavior. Rufus couldn't change his sexuality, but he desperately wanted to have a child. However his boyfriend would be furious if he slept with a girl. I have to do it, Rufus thought as his eyes never left the Map. The Nevarron Estate was one of the biggest in the Kingdom, maybe he could join Roadalia or Libertia? Both Nations were close to his estate. Or he might be able to convince another Lord to start their own Nation. His confusion was starting to give him a headache as he noticed the young girl entering his room.


He turned to look at her and took a deep sigh, so this was his Fathers plan. He probably needed to sleep with her and become straight. He was getting more angry but saw the girl was getting cold and smiled towards her. "Your master sent you? My Father?" He asked, articulating heavy so the girl would understand him, Rufus hoped. He walked to his bed and took one of the furry blankets lying on it then walked towards the girl and laid it on her small shoulders. He walked back to his table and started to write. He had decided this was his chance to get a child and would use his Father's idiocy at trying to turn him straight to allow for it. He was worried about the girl, but he could care for her.


Dear Love,


I know you will be furious.


But am going to have a child soon, I hope.

----​

Lilly had her sapphire blue eyes drawn to the floor but it seemed every moment that passed the cold was getting to her more and more. She pressed her lips together to try and stop the chatter of her teeth, while one hand with delicate fingers rubbed at the opposite arm gently. She didn't lift her eyes as he spoke, it was just something she was accustomed to with these Kildran Nobles, though it almost sounded like he were smiling and his voice seemed softer and more genuine then others she had been around. She nodded meekly but heard his boots stride away from her towards the bed. Still refusing to look at him he started to walk towards her now and already her whole frame seemed to tense up. Long eyelashes pressed down, wincing like she were waiting for the rough grab of her arm or yank of her hair.


Why were they always so rough?


But this time there was no rough hands, no snickers or gross smacking lip sounds like hungry animals and instead the girl's eyes widened hugely when she realized that a soft furred blanket had been draped over her shoulders. Now unable to keep her gaze lowered she finally looked up with bewilderment and shock. Again, he didn't touch her and instead moved to write a letter. Here she was naked before him, offering herself (even if not by her choice) and yet he hadn't laid a single hand on her. She was woefully confused. Hands reaching up to tug at the blanket to snuggle it around her petite frame more tightly, mostly hiding it now. "D...Do I please not, my Lord?" She offered in the same clunky dialect she had used prior.

------​

Sorry, but you have to stay calm, please.


This child will be for us both, and it will be happy.


Rufus finished the letter and found an envelope on his desk. Rufus peeked at the girl who was still standing there. He pointed at the chair standing next to the fireplace "Please, sit down." This girl couldn't get cold, he didn't want that. The Noble's son took the letter and paced through the room. He didn't know what to do, he was getting frustrated and paced even harder. After a few minutes Rufus stepped out of his room and walked to the guards "This letter needs to be delivered at Lord Sef from the Setaro House in Boar's Den, nobody can read this, do you understand?" Rufus said with a serious voice. The guard nodded and made his way to the boys who delivered the letters. That was another thing he had to fix, Rufus thought, those boys also needed to be warm. The cold got to them just as much as everyone else.... maybe, when he took over from his Father.


Rufus couldn't calm down and began to bite his nails. Nail biting was a thing Rufus did when he was really frustrated. Rufus didn't wanted to hurt the girl and nearly collapsed when he heard the girl asking if her presence still pleased him. He sat down on the ground and started crying, he wanted Sef to be here... He could give him some good advice and teach him how to have some fun. But, Sef was busy with his own things in his own Castle. Rufus stood up and walked to his desk, he hunted around till he found a small bag with some dried leaves in it, Pashush, he rolled it in a small piece of paper and walked to the fireplace to light it. Rufus walked to the window and opened it , Pashush did after all have a nasty smell. Rufus sat down on the window sill and took a pull from it. The smoke went to his lungs and the Noble's son started to become more relaxed. Rufus threw the drugs out of the window figuring if someone saw it they would probably think a page would secretly smoke. He did double check though to see nobody saw him as he finally approached over the girl.

-----​

Lilly watched him finish his letter, and judging by his shaking movements and the very way his fingers and wrists moved to write it, it must have been very important. He was so nervous it leeched from his very frame. And when he asked her to sit down, she found herself automatically heading that way to sit on the very edge closest to the fire. Her blue eyes flicking to the embers before back to him. His pacing was leaving her lost for words, and ultimately he started to remind her of one of her older brothers when she was younger. Worrying about his next hunting trek.


Why was he so nervous?


It dawned on her it may have even been possible he had never done this before, though that seemed unlikely at his age. Though as the man collapsed to the ground she instantly stood up from her seat hand half outstretched. Worry flooding her frame now, worry she had not felt since she had arrived to Kildran. "Lord?" She asked in a genuinely concerned voice. Again he was up, taking himself to the window sil with some bad smelling herb the locals here seemed to enjoy. She often found the Nobles who had bought her use it, though she had never done so herself. Finally he seemed to approach her after all the pacing and fidgeting and the girl only looked up meekly to him. "What Lord does wish?" She replied in that same dialect. Though her words continued softly in her own language and unable for him to understand.


"Byb Y bu sunaglymt prumt?"


"(Did I do something wrong?)"

-------​

"Well Girl, don't talk to your superiors in your own language!" Rufus said to the young slave, in an aggressive, condescending tone. You see, Pashush had a very special effect on him, he was getting turned on and he became very controlling. "Well Girl," he said firmly to her, "Come here to me!" Rufus started slowly undressing; first his shirt, then his pants as he laid down on his bed "So, stop standing there and give me the child I want!"


Rufus's whole personality has changed, from the nice and caring guy from moments ago, to an aggressive horny beast. A soft voice spoke in his mind, which sounded like Sef.


'Rufus, you don't have to do this, we can figure it out! Be the man you are; kind and caring.' Rufus sighed as another voice spoke in his mind 'You need to do this, the Girl is just a slave.'


Rufus took another heavy sigh as he and looked to the girl. "Come here, and do your thing." He said as he closed his eyes pretending Sef was there with him, instead.

-----​

Lilly peered up to him through the long strands of her snow white hair. She still had that confused and concerned look on her face as he approached, his whole attitude was simply unusual from what she was used to. Of course that almost completely changed as he spoke up in a commanding tone with that degrading context laced through it. She almost instantly winced as her shoulders drew together, clasping her hands in a nervous manner as her gaze turned down and away. Waiting for the hit or grab that usually came with it.


Fear starting to work its way as a shudder through her small frame. For a moment she thought this Lord may be different, he seemed caring enough as he put the blanket on her shoulders. Maybe he only did it to keep her warm enough that her cold, small frame may not disturb him later?


She started to regret having any concern surface at all. Pulling herself into her small shell as she watched him undress, trying to mentally cut herself off from her body, like she could simply will herself to ignore it. And once he was comfortable and laying down, Lilly slowly dropped the blanket from her shoulders to slip in under the sheets of his bed with him, a sad little distance smile floating over her lips.


Her body a vessel and nothing more. To please others. That was what Slave's were for right?


She gingerly wormed her way to straddle his hips, soft fingers pressed down against his chest as she peered down to him curiously. Noting a 'lack of interest' almost immediately that had her blinking almost innocently. She wasn't really sure how to fix it either, as most of her partners were forcing themselves before she had barely made it into the doorway. Lifting a finger to gingerly bite at her knuckle in thought while she started a slow rocking motion to try to reinvigorate him. "L...lord?" She said softly.

------​

Rufus sighed, did he want this? He wanted a child yes, but this? This was disgusting, this girl was so young. He kept his eyes shut as Lilly moved on his body, he could feel her petite frame was warmed up and gave a quick smile, happy that the blanket from before had worked. Rufus took her hand "Well," he explained truthfully. "I'm not used to this, I normally sleep with men.... so... Please continue and do your job." Rufus sighed, he thought of Sef, what was he doing at the moment? Did the letter reach him already? He felt Lilly moving slowly and desperately tried to think of a man rather then the soft, gentle body of the girl on top of him.

-----​

Some hours had passed. Lilly had to guide him every step of the way, and with the strangest of techniques to see him satisfied, at least enough for him to see her bare his child. She coaxed him softly and gently, the whole time wondering why this Lord wanted a child so badly, to go to such lengths with something he ultimately hated doing just to see an end to the means. She could sympathize with that, her whole life in Kildran had been simply to perform degrading acts for the amusement and service of others. And while this Lord seemed to respect her marginally more so then others, his touch often times sure then a moment later jerked back in a half panic, in the end he too was using her as a vessel to assure a Blood child for him and the heir to his estate. After his muscles had tensed, fingers grasping strongly at her hips as she peered down to his face, watching it contort in ecstasy, she slowly drew her body away and to the side to rest her back to the bedhead, drawing her legs into her chest with her chin rested on her knees, peering to his form. It was only then she realized the man was sobbing. Literally breaking down crying with a hand half covering his face.



Lilly crawled over to curl up against his side now, hand resting on the square of his chest as she threw the blanket over him gently. The position oddly platonic despite both parties with an absence of clothing. "I...It's ok..." She assured him softly, caring for him now despite him being so much older, and despite what she had just gone through. None of the other Nobles had ever broken down crying. Running her fingers through his hair to try and soothe him. "It's ok..."

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was previously posted by bottlecap in the previous IC


@bottlecap as

Jison V'Arnak

_____
​

Location: The Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra​

Date: Month 6, Day 14


Time: The fifth hour of night (5 P.M.)

_____
​

A jostling crowd filed into an arena, who's gates were no T'Odis mountain passages, but impressive in their own right's. The time of year had the air ripe with conversation and wealth, though the demeanor was calm and a bit nervous. The first day of Iorn's yearly festival was coming to a close. No bird's graced the city's skies, save those mothers fluttering to their young from a day of hunting to deliver their regurgitated delicacies. People were laughing and merrymaking, in their midst equal quantities of street performers, ruffians, businessmen, and even parties of Lord's and Ladies dotted the sea of dull clothes with their shining silk. This was because of the destination; the arena. It was intentionally built in the city's twentieth year of prosper to hold the entire population, and the citizens loved it so. In fact, the area had become such a center of pride in Iorn's populous that the city's guard had even stationed the bulk of their men around the perimeter wall of the location, confident that even the street gangs whom had been causing an unreasonable amount of trouble in the recent weeks wouldn't pass up tonight's event. Iorn's famous combat tournament.




Just as the sky took on it's deepest pink overhead, the last of the crowd settled into their spots. A fine breeze graced them, but in such close proximity one couldn't help but be ever so slightly uncomfortable. All in all no one seemed to mind.


"Oi, Rudford," Said a rather Sullen-looking youth with a surprisingly cheery voice. "Do ya know if the Lord's guard is going to compete this year?" he asked his companion, scanning the dark dirt ring raised just a bit above the rest of the arena by stones. Across entirely the area in the pit was about two hundred yards, but the arena placed for the combat tournament was a mere fifty for fairness sake.


"Why would he, Dil? He's won it more times than we've been alive. He hasn't competed in years," Answered Rudford, a sunken eyed brutish looking boy of about fifteen, whom all his friends know has a heart of gold. "I wouldn't mind seein' 'im fight myself tho' ya got me there,"


"I saw him once!" Said a boy in front, no more than about ten.


"Yeah righ', you saw eem?" Answered Rudford with obvious disbelief.


"Honest!" Said the boy, obviously excitable from birth. "I was out at the bazaar and a bloke tried ta' snatch from me dad's stall, he did! Didn't get twenty feet before Jison was there with an arm out! Stopped 'em dead in his tracks!"


"You 'idn't see 'im fight you saw eem clothesline a thief." Said Rudford, honestly a bit let down the story wasn't even a little more genuine. "There's a fine difference between fighten' an' doin' 'is job there 'is."


"Oh and you'd know, would ya Rud?" Said Dil, giving him a jab with his elbow.


By this time the sun had completely set, the crowd now bathed in a light and soft darkness. Guards around the perimeter lit their torches, and the distinct sound of a gate being raised could be heard at the far end of the arena, just below the lord family's booth. It opened completely with no other disturbance, and the crowd grew eagerly, restlessly, wholeheartedly silent in anticipation. Suddenly four acrobats dressed in greens and reds cartwheeled out with ace skill and impressive speed. The two in the back stopped with little synchronized hops, while the two in the front finished with back hand springs and perfect landings. All produced three torches and flints from the folds of their outfits, striking and lighting them immediately, bathing them each in eerie and angry glows. Without delay they began to juggle, doing various more impressive maneuvers distracting the crowd while a slight hole began to open in the center of the arena. All three tossed their lit torches into the air, and immediately did back walkovers towards the center. The torches landed just as they reached the fifty meter slightly raised ring, and they each did more cartwheels until they reached their desired opening. All the while, the torches had lit the string of oil that connected the large lanterns which lined the outside of the pit, casting a satisfying glow over the area. Finally once the acrobats had disappeared into the center hole, the audience cheered in satisfaction.


The crowd roared for moments before gradually dying out. That performance was simply the appetizer at a feast. "It was pretty good, but you know what we really want." They seemed to say with their hands, and out from the opened gate it came. Jison, the Lord's right hand, walked out to various whoops and hollers from the crowd. Kindral Iornia, the lord of the city, smiled down from his booth at his right hand as he thrust his arms out from him and took in the crowd's greetings. He was large. Impossibly large. Over seven feet with a chest that could struggle to squeeze through a door frame on it's own, let alone his arms the width of the front cannons of a ship. In his hair and face could be seen his age. With a salt and pepper trimmed hair atop his head and a matching go-tee around his lips. Deep laugh lines graced the edges of his facial hair, and around his eyes crows feet could be seen prominently as he smiled from closer audience members. Jison wore no more than a set of leather trousers held up by a strand of gold chord, and a silk burgundy sash across his torso. Around his brow was a metal band of gold, given to him by his lord as a gift in his second year of service when he had become captain of the city's guard.


After a bit the mood died down and the aged warrior addressed the crowd's feelings.


"WELCOME!" His booming voice had no trouble reaching the outer edges of the concaved arena. An alarmingly thick and surprisingly present T'Odis accent accompanied his words. "I will not keep you waiting. There is much to take place tonight, is there not?!" With that he received hearty "hurrah"'s and "oi"'s. "I wish luck to be with all fighters tonight. Now. Hag tenas datym!" He cried with enthusiasm, but received only confused half-cheers and looks. Realizing he had slipped into his native tongue in his excitement, he quickly corrected himself. "APOLOGIES! I AM MEANING: LET GAMES BEGIN!" He said, turning and bounding at the Lord's booth, while the crowd roared with renewed enthusiasm and some laughter. Jison leapt upward and grasped the edge of the booth firmly before hoisting himself over the side effortlessly. He dwarfed all it's other occupants, ladies of the court and a few wealthy men whom had married into the family, and took his overlarge seat next to his lord Kindral Iornia. He was a slender and wirey man, with a main of grey hair and stern eyes. Atop his own head sat a much larger circlet than Jison's, and one of obvious more value with inlet stones of garnet and ruby. He nodded to his companion as he took his place by his side.


"First challengers! Jared, from capitol of Kein, and Brael the salt!" Bellowed Jison before relaxing into his appropriate chair. Two men exited the gate Jison had entered from, and made their way to the ring with cheers from various audience members. The man on the left was of obvious Kildran descent, probably born and raised in the capitol. He held himself with a regal air like a knight would, and draped himself with silk and linen. The man on the right wore a wide brimmed hat and rougher tunic, both of which he disguarded and tossed into the crowd to a group of young women whom shrieked happily. He was obviously a seaman, with a handsome face and short-kempt hair. The two took their places at two black lines drawn in the dirt, five meters apart from one another, and assumed their combat stances. Jared kept his body upright and his fists near his chest, whilst Brael stayed low to the ground with his fists over his face, barely giving his own eyes room to see it seemed. Jison smiled at the two, and let out a hearty "FIGHT!"


Jared stayed in his place, ready to receive whatever came to him, while Brael wasted no time. He charged his opponent with his arms in close proximity and made for a running jab at Jared's face. Jared deflected this with a forearm, and landed a knee straight into Brael's gut. This painted him with a shocked expression, which didn't last for long. He grappled Jared's leg in a swift movement, and rotated so as to take him off balance. Just as his opponent hit the ground he straddled him and unleashed a series of at least four to six blows before Jared was able to roll him off.


"Is good crop. Should have been downstairs, Kindral." Said Jison, watching the fight with the hint of a smile on his face.


"Yes i'm sure it was, Jison. I'd rather wait and let it be a surprise. I long for the day when we get a fighter who was half as entertaining as you were. Remember that man from Parshum who almost beat you your fourth year?" Json scoffed at such an accusation.


"You were not watching same fight as I was in, Kindral! I remember that man losing in second round with bloodied eyes!" He gave Kindral's entire chair a shake, which the nobles in the booth were startled by, but neither the Lord's guards nor he himself jumped at. This was very average behavior for their T'Odis resident. Just as Jared contacted Brael with a second knee, this time to the face, Kindral spoke again, this time chuckling.


"Maybe so. Maybe one day you'll meet your match in that arena, if you ever feel someone's worthy." Kindral raised an eyebrow at his companion and glanced out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to miss much of the fight.


"Unless Iorn attracts pure blooded T'Odis, I will never meet a match in your arena." He said this with a fist against his chest. "I fear as warriors grow stronger, I will only be a memory in the arms of my White." He said this with a finger pointing towards the air, gesturing to his unseen god. By this time Brael's unconscious body was being carried off the ring by two city guards, and Jared was bowing to his loving public. The night continued with satisfying fights all around, some more than others. Strong Namasdae men, kildran knights and brawlers, and swift slender female warriors dotted the competition. Finally deep into the night two remained. A tall dark Namasdae man with tattoos over his forearms and chest stood across from a slightly lesser Iornian guard named Gunther whom had decided to throw himself into the mix, and come favorably. Jison knew him well and his heart beat with pride as he saw the youth ready himself for the fight. He had trained him himself along with the other guards and watched him grow over the years.


"Ladies and gentlemen. Final round of tournament will end with Namasdae warrior: Manja!" A small amount of noise echoed from the crowd, "And one of our own! Gunther!" The crowd erupted with cheers. "FIGHT!" Jason sat back into his chair and grabbed his tankard of wine. "Poor young one. Stands as much of chance as Robin egg in snowstorm." he said to his friend beside him, whom had an understanding expression on his face. Jison drained his drink and set it back down to be refilled.


"I'm afraid you're right, Jison. Try and call it off short if you can, will you?" Jison gave a nod Kindral could not see. The Namasdae man, Manja, had fought viciously, almost unscathed in his fights. Jison would be thoroughly surprised if the boy lasted more than a few minutes.


Manja stood, firmly in place, while Gunther threw a determined and useless hook towards his face. The larger man ducked, and returned with his own elbow across Gunther's head which sent him reeling. He seemed to try and shake off the pain, before grasping his hands in a hammer thrust and aiming them towards the warrior's solar-plex. Manja caught this with his arms, and landed a teeth-clenching headbutt right into the bridge of poor Gunther's nose. It spat a line of blood almost immediately. It seemed the victory was already won before it had begun. Gunther attempted a last feeble attempt at striking the mass before him, but Manja needed only to grab his sluggish arms and plant one of his boot-like feet onto Gunther's chest. He fell backward, gasping for the air that had obviously been ripped from his lungs. Jison rose immediately from his seat.


"I must declare fight over!" The crowd booed and hissed vehemently at the victor, whom did not seem to mind in the slightest. "The winner of tournament is Manja!" Jison gave the man a hearty applause that his face did not share, though his massive hands made enough noise. Guards were removing Gunther's still dazed form when Manja himself spoke up for the first time tonight.


"MANJA CAME! From desert of champions Manja came. And this is what Manja sees? In so called 'Combat Tournament.' You are all so high and mighty. Yet not one challenger could best Manja." He gave the ground his most disrespectful spit he could possibly muster, and the crowd answered with cries of disgrace and angry roars. "There is not ONE HERE WHO COULD BEST MANJA! EVEN BELOVED ICE MAN SITS WITH NO PRIDE IN HIS MASTER'S BOX OF RICHES." He was almost screaming over the mob at this point, but giving Jison a dead stare, which he returned. Kindral's eyebrows were raised. It had been years since he had seen someone truly challenge Jison directly. He wasn't even the least bit bothered by Manja's accusations of their entire country being weak. He knew what was about to happen, and boy was he looking forward to it.


Jison rose from his spot, and placing one foot on the edge of the lord's booth he leapt back into the dirt. He removed his circlet and tossed it behind him. Kindral caught it in one hand and rose from his own chair in a child-like vigor.


"Ladies and gentleman it seems Jison has accepted Manja's challenge!" Yet no cheering ensued. The look on the T'Odis behemoth's face could frighten a child. Manja had struck a nerve. Jison was, in fact, a bit sensitive about accusations of him becoming soft in his position as a wealthy lord's right hand. Coupled with this, it had also been years since he had had a fight worth remembering. He was not confident he would find it here, but the White forbid he should let a challenge of his pride go unfaced. He ripped the burgundy silk sash from his chest effortlessly, and removed the leather wraps from his feet with one pull. Finally he met his challenger in the center of the ring. Their faces no more than inches apart, one wouldn't even dream of making jokes about them kissing with how intense the scene before them looked.


"Fighters. Take your positions." It was Kindral who spoke now, assuming the role of host and judge. Manja smiled in Jison's face as he turned away, showing obvious disrespect at not facing him directly. Despite the nearly foot's difference in size, the Namasdae warrior seemed immensely confident. The silence was palpable. "FIGHT!" Both hulking fighters met each other in the middle, one of Manja's arms swinging in an arc hoping to catch Jison by the ear. Jison pulled back only enough to let the blow catch his cheek, and his head turned with it. Manja then let out three more heavy blows into Jison's muscle-armored gut, which seemed to shake him slightly as the two moved from their positions in the center. It was on the fourth that Jison caught the Namasdae's wrist. His head rose so that he was looking down the bridge of his nose, his eyes shadowed in inky spots on his face. He chucked the warrior aside like an older brother bullying his child sibling. Staring him down he wiped a small trickle of blood from his lip onto his wrist, and cracked a grin. Manja's eyes widened. This had obviously not been his plan.


Jison covered the distance between the two in a single bounding step, and he a single hooked arm drove deep into Manja's stomach, causing his mouth to open and a small amount of spittle to escape. Two more furious punches landed in succession, and a third broke the man's body with an obvious crack of a broken rib. Jison then threw a knee without giving the great Manja so much as a moment to breath, and do what he might to stop it with his palms, it lifted the once confident warrior off his feet in horror. Jison caught him before he could touch the ground, and pushed him by the back towards the earth. Manja bounced off of the dirt and spat blood from his mouth. Jison backed away a step or two, and gave the Namasdae a chance to struggle to his feet. He got to one knee before Jison jut his leg out and planted a heel into his entire face, and the man could not be described to move in any way but shooting backwards onto the ground. He was unconscious and defeated. "la pes mug qoyggar, yv muglymt ahsa." (He was not quitter, if nothing else.) He thought to himself, as the roaring of the crowd rang in his ears.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Lakita as a collaboration post with @Dirk Diggler in the previous IC


Lakita as

Maerwynn


@Dirk Diggler as

Vanse​

_____​

Location: Just outside the T'Odis Gate on the Roadalia-Libertia-T’Odis-Indoria-Kildra trade road, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Post starts between the second and third hour of morning (2:30 A.M.) Ends at the 6th hour of morning (6 A.M.)

_____​

Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak.


Maerwynn hunched over on the horse and clung onto the stranger's -who was now her rescuer- back, trying her hardest not to fall off. She had rarely, if ever, rode a horse before and their grand escape was what she considered to be an ideal introduction. It was completely different from riding her Yiptiks - they had long fur, perfect for grabbing. However with the horses, Maerwynn had to grip on with her thighs as hard as she could. Still, as they made their way away from the gate Maerwynn was grateful for the beast's speed. They had only been riding for around ten minutes but already the memories of caravan massacre were fading away in her mind as they got further and further from the gate.


Vanse couldn't stop. Not yet at least. There was no way of knowing if they were right on their tail or not. The constant thumping of the horses feet against the cold hard ground was the only thing he could focus himself on. The girl he saved just earlier clung to him tightly, and he could tell every gallop was causing her great pain. But somehow, she managed to speak,


"Thank you."


He could hardly hear her. He didn't bother responding. It was hardly the time for such pleasantries.


Maerwynn stewed silently and tried to preoccupy herself from the riding pains. She couldn't remember the last time she had let anyone besides her father help her. And who was this man, exactly? If this had been back at home... Maerwynn could already hear her father scolding her for trusting strangers. Did she now owe a debt to him?


"But it's not like I had a choice."


"For-not-leaving-me."


Each of her words were punctuated with a jump as they traversed through a particularly rough patch of tundra.


Vanse began to remember why he helped this girl in the first place. It was his fault she was hurt and all those merchants were dead.


No, it was the Horde.


The words almost seemed to echo from his subconscious.


Maerwynn took in a sharp intake of breath as jolting pains shot through her chest. At this point, all she wanted to do was to stop and take in the full extent of her injuries. The stranger didn't seem like he was going to stop anytime soon however and Maerwynn was not going to be the reason why their pursuers would catch up to them.


Suddenly, a sharp pain in his shoulder quickly made Vanse aware of his own injuries. He had been almost numb to all of it up to this point, but it hit him all at once.


"Fuck," she muttered. "Mmmph."


Although she knew the necessities of getting away from their attackers, she couldn't help but wish for a break. The constant up-and-down motion of the horse didn't help her ribs at all. On top of all that, she hadn't slept in quite a long time. The adrenaline from earlier was now slowly ebbing away and in its place came a smothering drowsiness. She yawned (or tried to, without letting out another yelp) and shook her head, trying to regain her energy.


Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak.


The twilight was giving way to the sun now. Maerwynn noted sleepily how the light made the stranger's hair shine even brighter.


"Like the snow."


She looked up to the sky and watched the moon dip down and relinquish its hold over to the morning sun. Somehow, someway, a twinge of nostalgia accompanied the sight. It was as if the events of the past week were a dream - and she wished she would wake up.


"Good-bye, Moon."


Vanse looked at the sun and wondered how long it had been since he last slept, but they still had hours ahead of them. They continued southeast towards Kein.


Now that it was morning, Maerwynn felt a little bit more alert (although she still hadn't had a blink of sleep since last afternoon). Now she could focus more on her surroundings and on her new companion. He was a strange man yet vaguely familiar to her. For starters, he towered over Maerwynn even when they were both sitting down. Of course, other men often stood taller than her to begin with but never had it been quite like this. She felt like a child in his presence, height-wise anyway.


Not to mention his snow-white hair, of which Maerwynn had already taken much note of. Could he have been an old man? She hadn't gotten a real close look at his face and who knew - maybe there were some special anti-aging herbs she hadn't heard of before.


Maerwynn frowned as she recollected memories of the fight yesterday. No. Old men could not move like he had. Old men could not fight like he had, kill like he had.


It was then Maerwynn remembered the odd visitors that had sometimes come to her homestead, seeking to buy one of their Yiptiks.


"But not for food... but for pets."


Pet.


The concept seemed strange to her - how could anyone let an animal inside the house? Share a bed with one? It was wrong. Home was for man. The great outdoors were for beasts.


Still, the only thing stranger than pets were the giants that lived among them. What had her father called them?


"T-t... T-Odis."


"That's right... we used to trade with them at times."


She still remembered the first time she had seen the T'Odis people up close. Giants, she had called them. Her father had called them ghosts, on account of their deathly pale complexion. There had even been some of their kind in the bandit groups that often harassed their ranch for protection money (which her father had always tried to pay). How could she have forgotten?


"I must've been hit harder than I thought."


Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak. Ta-ta-tak.


It was late afternoon when the duo finally stopped for a break. The hinterlands had faded into yellow tough grass a few hours ago and the mountains were nowhere as big as they had been before. With their lead it seemed alright to let their pursuers catch up a bit while they ate and napped. At least, that was what Maerwynn had in mind. She didn't know about the T'Odis man but she was only human. And that meant not being able to ride for days on end, attackers be damned.


"Ugh!"


Maerwynn hit the ground and felt the air get pushed out of her lungs. Riding on horseback, it seemed, was not good for her legs. Locked up and stiff at the joints, she tried to catch her breath and ignore the fire in her ribs at the same moment.


Vanse jumped down and quickly, but carefully, helped her back up. There was no way they could continue much longer. Surveying the surrounding area he spotted smoke in the distance.


“You see smoke in sky?” He finally spoke. “There is village near by. We can rest there, and maybe let doctor help you. Can you make it?”


"I'll be alright."


Maerwynn began hobbling towards the village. Though the horse would undoubtedly get them there faster, she had had enough of riding for the day. Her inner thighs felt rubbed raw and she gingerly touched them to make sure they weren't bleeding. Her fingers came back dry but she was certain that she'd have bruises once she looked further.


The man had spoken of finding a village doctor but Maerwynn wasn't so certain. For starters, she had no money on her. She didn't know how it was like down South but up North, there was no such thing as free services. Secondly, she had never really gone to a doctor before.


She relived her past injuries as the village came closer and closer. There was the time when she had accidentally poured scalding water on her foot. Had she visited a doctor then? No - her father had buried her foot in the snow before wrapping it up in a clean linen bandage. It had healed fine. Then there was the time when one of the Yiptiks had gone feral and had nearly bit off her hand. Again, Maerwynn had been treated at home with very basic procedures. She had been fine then and she was sure that she was going to be fine now.


All Maerwynn wanted was some food to fill her stomach. The feeling that it was eating itself had passed hours ago and now all she felt was a dull, throbbing ache. Bile threatened to rise in the back of her throat even though she had nothing to throw up. Memories of past eaten dishes flitted through her mind, each one tastier than the other. Chunks of meat in snow-melted pot. Roasted roots which took hours to find underneath the snow. Pine needle tea in their cracked kettle. Even the lichen she had eaten in times of desperation seemed good to her now.


But those days were behind her now. As the village guard began to hail them over, Maerwynn began to take account of her inventory. She had lost her beloved snow-shoes in the crash. Her broken crossbow hung limply around her shoulders while the three bolts she had scavenged lay in her pocket with her knife. Her borrowed blowing-horn also was strung around her neck. Meanwhile, her companion had with him his steel sword and the horse. She wasn't sure if he had any money on his person but as it stood, Maerwynn was sure that they did not pose a threat to the village at hand.


"Ho! Who goes there?" the guards-men shouted.


Maerwynn glanced back at her companion before she wet her lips. In a hoarse voice, she called out,"Rikara the shepherdess and her... friend. We were attacked by bandits on the road. Can you help us?"

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Lakita as a collaboration post with @Dirk Diggler in the previous IC


Lakita as

Maerwynn


@Dirk Diggler as

Vanse​

_____​

Location: Reshinall Village, Northern Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Half past the sixth hour of the morning (6:30 A.M.)

_____​

"Rikara the shepherdess and her... friend. We were attacked by bandits on the road. Can you help us?"


Vanse stared silently at Maerwynn, slightly surprised. The two guards that called them over just turn to each other and then back at them.


“No not really,” One shrugged. “There's an inn down the road if you got gold.” His eyes looked the girl up and down and grew lecherous. “Maybe you could earn some in the whore house next door. I would definitely come visit you later.”


He reached a hand up to touch her face, but Vanse quickly snatched his wrist and twisted. The guard cried out and fell to a knee, his companion jumped and aimed his spear at the T'odis warrior. He let go and the lech began rubbing his arm.


“We should fucking kill you for that!” He stood up and turned to Maerwynn, “You, take your ice giant and fuck off.” She carefully put a hand on Vanse's shoulder to gesture him away and they began walking toward the inn.


“You know pretty boy ice giant might get you some gold in the whore house to!”


“Tsk, gresl lumurhass. (Honorless, trash.)” Vanse muttered.


They found the inn fairly easily. A simple little tavern called the Blue Bellied Bull. It was a rickety old building that almost reminded Vanse of the caravan. Hung above the front door was an old sign with a crudely drawn sleeping bovine. He walked up the short wooden steps to the door and placed a hand on it. He turned his head slightly to Maerwynn.


“I will buy you room to rest. However long you need until healed.” He looked back to the door and noticed a small dried up blood stain on his knuckle.


Another horde will come for me....


His hand balled into a fist.


Us... Too many people have seen her. She has no idea how much danger I've put her in...


No, I cant just leave her. Not until I know she'll be safe. If a horde is tracking me, they'll definitely find her.


And they'll torture her endlessly for information.


He pushed the door open and they walked inside.


The inn was a lively little place. It was a little bubble of debauchery in the relatively silent town and both drink and coin exchanged hands faster than sand running through fingers. Maerwynn took an apprehensive look inside and took it all in. South of T'Odis had not been what she had expected so far. Though she had had many experience with men, the books she had read had described men of valor and charisma - not regular town drunks. Maerwynn chided herself internally for being so foolish as to believing the tales but she still felt a little miffed.


She hobbled over to the innkeeper -a stout old man with greasy-looking whiskers- before holding her hand up to indicate a room for two.


He looked suspiciously upon her dirty face and matted hair before setting aside his broom and extending a hand.


"Coin?"


Maerwynn bit her lip before looking expectantly at her companion. Normally, she didn't take up strangers on their charity -her father had taught her to be wary of the giving- but right now, she wanted privacy to get a hold of herself. Still, she forced herself to look away as the stranger reached for his pouch - it was easier to forget when the actual amount was a mystery.


"Top floor. Third left." Satisfied with the money he had earned, the innkeeper returned to his former duty of sweeping the dirty floor. Gold, it seemed, helped to blind the eyes of suspicion and gag the voice of curiosity.


She huffed as she eased herself up the stairs. Each step was creakier than the last; she was glad to reach the top without her foot breaking through the wood.


Vanse watched her struggle as she slowly made her way up. Following only after she got to the top. Too much weight, especially his, would easily collapse the weak structure. When he got to the top himself, the low ceiling forced him to almost hunch over.


She counted out the doors as she passed, making sure to enter the right room.


It was cramped for two and furnished only with a small bed, a cracked mirror and a rickety table. The grimy window cast clouds of dust on the outside world, though small circles of clean glass had been rubbed prior to her visit. The mattress was made of straw which poked through the ratty blanket which laid folded surprisingly neatly on top. For all the room was lacking, Maerwynn was glad to see it at least had a door.


Vanse took a few steps in and sat himself on the floor against the wall across from the bed. His elbows rested on his knees.


Maerwynn took off her heavy fur coat and placed it on the table. She had no doubt that the deeper South she would go, the less she would miss it. Her broken crossbow and blowing-horn lay abandoned on the floor. Maerwynn strode on over to the roughly body-length mirror before pulling up her linen shirt mid-way.


The swordsman's face turned red. He wondered if she somehow forgotten he was there. It wasn't until she lifted the cloth to her ribs did he see why she was so quick to examine herself.


An ugly splash of green and purple marred her pale skin and what seemed to be a knob of bone stuck out on her side. When she mustered up enough courage to touch the lump, a flash of pain made her hiss slightly in pain.


"What am I going to do about that?" Maerwynn mumbled to herself before pulling her shirt back down.


Nothing, but rest. Vanse thought to himself. The advice seeming to obvious to say out loud.


If she were bleeding internally she wouldn't have made it this far. He realized, the thought actually managed to relax him a bit.


She'd never healed a broken bone like that before but she had an inkling that tea and sleep wasn't going to cut it. As of right now, however, Maerwynn felt that it was manageable so long as she didn't move around so much.


With some effort, she sat down on the bed and turned silent. She didn't feel awkward with a stranger in the room, far from it. After all, she'd talked with no-one but strangers (save for her Father) up in the North.


"What's your name?"


He paused for a moment. Should he tell her? The less she knew the better, but she was already in too deep. Simply being seen with him has surely damned her.


The swordsman took a deep breathe before he spoke. Since it was too late to hide anything, the least he could do was tell her his name.


“Vanse D'Enishora, emb iuor mena?” The T'Odis just flowed naturally from his mouth. He coughed realizing his mistake, and spoke again. “And your name?”


She knew that he hadn't bought her Rikara alias. To be completely honest, Maerwynn wasn't sure if the village guards had been convinced either - after all, a large sword was an effective deterrent. But did all that justify revealing her name to Vanse? Her mind was made up when the T'Odis man spoke up first, making himself vulnerable. If he had trusted her enough to reveal his name, then Maerwynn would return the favour.


Cautiously, she spoke out.


"I'm Maerwynn."


Her surname would have to stay out of the picture for now. Even with the limited contact she'd had with the outside world, Maerwynn knew that T'Iiosha was not a common name for a Kildran like herself. Too many irregularities would bring up questions - nay, it was far better for him to think of her as just another peasant trying to make it in the harsh world.


Silence filled the room once more. It wasn't the uncomfortable kind where one could cut the tension with a knife nor was it the kind where the two parties were in perfect sync, trading their words without speech. It was just silence and Maerwynn took the time to find the words to ask her next question.


"What was that back there?" She blurted out clumsily, truly at a loss for what she had seen. Never had she seen black clouds, blue lightning, or the attackers that had viciously cut short their caravan ride. All she knew -or suspected- was that Vanse was at the heart of all the misfortunes that had happened.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Aithen the Kindled in the previous IC


@Aithen the Kindled as

Vertuk the Ram​

______​

Location: The Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The 7th hour of the morning (7 A.M.)

______
​

And so, the morning would dawn with her first match. The coliseum was soaked with its guests, lining all around the walls of the battle floor as no seats were available. For who would miss the very first match of the day? The day was early, the sun barely reaching its quarter mark in the sky, which fortunately didn't cause the blinding gaze it generally would produce. This would surely let the beginning match go on with much focus and all the actions witnessed. And today, today news was spread, of a very unlikely pair of contestants, one moreso than the other. With the silencing of the citizens with the guards surrounding the arena, the spokesperson rose from his seat, throwing his arms up enthusiastically as he began to speak to the crowd.


"Welcome, blessed people of Lorn!! Today, let this morning begin with the utmost entertainment! For a match has been prepared for you, one of true might and honor: That of Fisticuffs!!" The crowd cheered violently, and for a while, as any morning should start with a good clean match which tested might. The delirious crowd was deafening, making the spokesperson reach for his ears as he waved the voices down, a quick reaction, more or less, which caused them to be quiet. With that, the male in robes quickly cleared his throat in a manner of quickness so he may continue. "And so! We have for you a special battle in mind! Urthok, from Kildra, the bear!!" Once more, a mighty cheer came as the far out cage door opened up, and walking forth was a brute of a man.

​

The male looked around, a mighty grin upon his face. "Standing at a height of an impressive six feet and fourty seven centimeters, I give you Urthok, the Ferocious!!" With that, the cheers continued, the male roaring as he leapt into the air, fist pumping with a mighty chuckle, roaring as he leaned forward, flexing his muscles mightily towards the crowd to boost his own morale.


However, within the other cage, eyes stared intently at such a figure. The vision viewed a tiny man, hopping around, his visage checkered by the cage. But he saw what he needed to. The man was muscular, yes. He imagined that he was the strongest in this arena so far. And all of this arena would agree. That is, until the next from T'Odis crawled out of his own hole and presented himself. For now, his heavy huffing was enough to disturb the guards behind him, who looked to one another with unsureness if this man was even stable enough to walk out there by himself, without instantly attacking such a morsel as this other man.


The hands of the spokesperson patted the air in front of him rapidly, though it took much from him to go on for an entire three minutes as the crowd eventually calmed, the contestant standing there with pumped muscles and a victorious grin already placed upon his face. The spokesperson chanted out the next sentence with the utmost respect and presentation, for even he knew already who would win this match. "But today, Urthok's might shall be contested!! The great yetti from T'Ordis has awoken from his slaughtering slumber to gift us with his presence this morning!!!" At this point, cheers were already growing among the crowd. "The titan of the arctic, the great fist of the cold!!! I Give you, VERTUK, THE RAM!!"


And the cage would open, where the vision Vertuk had was now pure. The male on the other side continued to pound at his own chest, waving forward whoever was within the shadows, the arrogant grin upon his face gaining more cheer. However, a mighty roar echoed out of the shadows, making the other pause for a moment with a frown of confusion. The roar was mighty, powerful, rumbling through the tunnel and silencing all with haste. Heavy steps were heard, crushing into the floor beneath him as eventually, a mighty, large hand grasped upon the top of the tunnel's roof. Peering through, a helmet stared straight to the warrior. The height alone sent a chill down the other's spine, but he gave a nervous chuckle and spun around, waving his arms mightily as cheering grew once more, only weakly. Gasps were heard, as the contestant grew silent, turning around to see the beast fully visible in the light of the day.

​

The beast cared for no applause, his arms gripped mightily as he stared down to the contestant, looking around them, staring to all of the crowd before he took a mighty stomp forward, throwing his arms behind him as from behind his helm a deafening roar bellowed once more, his hands flexed and fingers spread apart, already ready to grapple. Cheer uproared for a moment, and grew silent as the spokesperson shouted out one last line before the action started. "Let the match, BEGIN!"


With that, the monstrous Vertuk did not hesitate to begin slowly marching towards Urthok, who was shyly beginning to march towards the other himself. His fists balled now, roaring as his fists were launched into the center part of Vertuk's chest, going at him for a while, at least fifteen punches. Vertuk stood there, witnessing this being's "Strength" as while he was being pounded upon, he flexed wildly, lifting up his left arm as he slid his gauntlet off with his other hand. Flexing his hand for a moment, he looked down to Urthok, who stared up to him with a mix of fear and getting ready to prepare for the Ram's blow.


And a blow he would suffer. A blow that no preparation could've stopped.


The mighty Vertuk roared with a beastly spirit burning within, a sudden flailing of his left fist upwards, connecting with Urthok's center chest and launching him into the air, sending him back a good seven feet. The contestant was winded, doing his best to get up with wide eyes as the crowd roared in amazement, praise, and excitement. By the time Vertuk was towering over Urthok, all the being could've done was raise an arm up to push against Vertuk's lower thigh, as if that would halt him. The Ram lifted Urthok then, clutching onto his right collar bone and his waist buckle, raising him with ease over his head, turning around, and hurling him with a stomp forward, roaring again as he witnessed the bear rolling along the ground.


Vertuk continued to march forward, slowly gaining speed until suddenly a thundering sprint was engaged. Urthok rose, with enough adrenaline to turn around, eyes lit aflame with horror of what he witnessed. The seven foot beast crashed into the contestant, lifting him up and continuing to breath heavily and sprint, aiming straight for the wall. Suddenly, panic and screams would be filling the crowd as the spokesperson rose from his seat once more, a panic in his eyes as he shouted, "STOP! Stop!!!"


The only word that Vertuk comprehended in the past half hour of this day. Halting suddenly, only a foot away from the wall, The beast lifted Urthok high into the air, twisting his hips and dropping Urthok into the ground with a mighty slam. A cheer of praise came once more, as well as thank for not injuring the bear as badly as he was about to. The beast stood here, looking down to his contestant who looked to him in fear, wheezing as he rolled to his side and just gave up right there and then. The beast's muscles rippled with that, tossing off his other gauntlet for a moment before looking to the crowd, flexing his arms mightily as he began pounding on his chest like an ape, the crowd giving a truly deafening response.


The uproar was the second most enjoyable thing Vertuk acquired today, other than the chance to pummel this "Bear". The thought of this other outlander thinking his strength was worth more made the Ram wish to spit, and he would've, if he wasn't wearing his helm. Looking down to Urthok, he noticed his cage was opened, as well as a few medical carriers sprinting out to make sure his contestant was alright. With that, the beast marched his way slowly back into the hole he crawled out of, ending the fight. And yet, the cheering went on, for not many witnessed a giant such as Vertuk in their lives, let alone a single match upon an arena. Ducking under the ceiling, he grabbed onto it once more before letting go as his foot entered the shadow once more.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Trust in the previous IC


@Trust as
Solana Carstares​

_____​

Location: The Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Half past the ninth hour of morning (9:30 A.M.)

______​

"Damn... This thing is warm" Solana sighed from within the large suit of metal armour, decorated with a couple unique and well-worn Decorations, it was masking her entire body, making her appear much more like a man than a woman. She despised the suit but had to wear it otherwise one of her father's men would most likely spot her and bring her back to him, the leader of the guards of lorn. It didn't help that there were countless foods being prepared in nearby stalls, primarily meats and spices from what she could smell, it made her want to choke from the strength of the ingredients. She chinked onward toward the yells and roars coming from the arena, her long and extremely heavy sword tucked into a sheath by her side and a large, even heavier shield strapped to her back. She felt like a pig being roasted over a fire! "Oh come on, you got this far... Just get to the arena and find a way away from this place or you'll never get to go anywhere" she reminded herself in a pitiable attempt at motivation.


It was the second day of the annual "arena week" as she liked to call it, the merchants and cooks were definitely making the most of it as people from all over crowded towards the place, it would be next to impossible for her to be found in the armour given the amount knights wishing to participate in it. Rumour had it that the monarch was going to appear this year, she would be lucky to even catch a glimpse of the lady, but that wasn't her objective. Her feet seemed to be moving of their own accord as she wandered further towards the arena while her mind was busy pondering different thoughts.


After several minutes of walking, she arrived before the arena itself, a monster of a building and a wonder of modern architecture. She had seen it before, but never actually gone into the stadium, her father had always told her that it was for grown-ups only and that she should stay in the house a study with her tutor. Her body was giddy with excitement as she stepped through the entrance along with countless others before recoiling at the sheer roars of appeasement coming from the crowds. Solana struggled her way into the stadium and found herself a small seat, coming in just as a giant of a man walked back into some sort of cage as a team of medics went and checked up on the second male that seemed to be groaning in pain. "..." The young woman's mouth was hanging wide open under her mask at the sheer astonishment of the sight.


Suddenly, she didn't feel very well at all. It all seemed to be a little much for her, the suit, the heat, the weight, the cheering, the smells and even the taste, it wall made her feel rather queasy. she shoved past the people next to her as she ran off from her seat until she suddenly fell over something and landed on something soft. She ran her hand through the substance, she felt too dizzy to even look at what she was currently on. she sat up for a moment and suddenly had the extreme urge to pull off her mask. She listened to her mind and pulled it off, her long blonde hair spilling out of the helmet as she leaned against a wooden pole and gasped for air. It was only then that she realized just where she was.


She had fallen into the arena pit. "oh god..." she mumbled before she just couldn't handle it any more and ended up throwing up on the small patch of sand she had landed on and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the soft ground.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by CupAndCough in the previous IC


@CupAndCough as

Leader of the Empty Ouroboros Aloysius Amom-Pophis​

______​

Location: The Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Half past the ninth hour of morning (9:30 A.M.)

_____​

| AloysiusAmon-Apophis|​

|"You don't fear a man for his ability to kill you, but his intense abnormal desire to do so"| ​

|| Leader of Empty Ouroboros | Sole Master of The Wyrm's Intent | War-Poet of Anahit ||


|| Location: Iorn, Kildra. Fisticuffs Tournament Grounds ||​

|| [|"A Snake That Speaks? Beware For That One Pours Venom Not In the Blood, But The Soul." |] || It held the sparse hint smell of dried blood, the smell of damp and dirtied iron. Familiar. No. Such a word is held in for times of passing meetings. Where the sight of a plump merchant checking on the wares he fenced in from his cohorts. A beggar-thief coming in contact with the loot of a man from the middle class. A poor man taking a bit more feed for himself than his starving children without their knowing.


No this smell. This cruor that danced on the dusted air, that stood out against the putrid odors of sweating flesh and saliva spewed forth from a crowd going mad with enjoying the merriment of watching a battle. That slightly intoxicating aroma tantalized the hairs inside the nose of a man named Aloysius. It wasn't familiarity. It emanated a sense of unparalleled hearth.


Home. Consistency. Truth. Unending and Perpetual Action. It was the smell of a person's fear, hate, rage, and malice. It spoke more words than ever needed. Men battling were the calling siren to those who walk such horrid paths like Aloysius, A man who inspired others to rip the very life out of their fellow men in war. A preacher, a man of guidance, a poet which wove words of inspiration and battle-lust. Why would he not be infatuated with the idea that the kingdoms seek peace (in some form), but allow such "disgusting" and "abhorrent" behavior? Laughable. Pitiable. A laudable false resolution, but one that he had hope for the sparks of war and bloodlust to take hold in the hearts of men. One that he hoped, perhaps even knew, that would over take them once more in a war.


So blessed with the chance of battling was he, so blessed with the chance that he could show what made his very soul. Willing to face true and unbridled strife. The intensity of the fire of his being all formed into a singular and whole idea. The Killing Intent. As he listened to the crowd cheer his entrance. The sunlight flared as he stepped out from the shadowy enclosure--he began to remember what took him here...

***​

Aloysius had found this tournament not long ago. However his interest was not peaked. He expect the city's drunkards and men bearing a slight bit of muscle mass. He cared very little for the thought, for this presumption of what myriad of fools would slam taut and fleshy knuckle that was nary of the scars and hardening of a true warrior.


It was his flock that pestered and neighed at him about the event. The sporting event where one is allowed to destroy another in the ring of battle. Horrifying in retrospect, if one were of sane mind. If one were of the side of empathy and civility. Aloysius was stoic and perhaps rightly annoyed towards the constant nagging of his men to take part. Of course they desired to see him fight. To learn. To educate themselves. To hold reverence for a true follower of Anahit. It was with the words he spoke, apathy-laden signatures in his voice.


"...A bother. An annoyance." He stapled his men's egging their leader on as nothing more than these chiding remarks. They were not worth much, and their daring attempt was more of an insult to him than a olive branch of student to master. Children with the scars and armor of men, that's what they were worth, but they will learn. They humored the outwardly stalwart man with at least some sort of reverence. It was with the words of who would be there that peaked his interest. A Monk from Parshum. One that move so much like he did. One that defeated men so easily. A serene and calm man that struck with an empty palm. A man that was said to eliminated an entire band of bandit without much as a scratch. Rumors merely, but rumors were hints of what was true--or at least a theory. It was even this small morsel of information, whether truth or false, that interested him.


"Anahit has blessed me today." An ornery slice rose across his flesh, from ear to ear it etched into his face. Bearing teeth pale white, fangs prepared. So ready. So impatient and giddy . A smile, not of a man. But of a snake. Of an abhorrent beast. One that had learned of a rival coming into the fray...

***​

As he entered the field of battle, he witnessed a falling shadow. A person adorned in armor so ragged and cumbersome it cause some laughter from the crowd. A buffoon in their eyes. In Aloysius' however? Just a bit daft--but nothing warranting laughter. Not a scoff. A snicker. Nor a roll of the eyes. Only a stare. One that soon released pervading emptiness that hissed in the air. As if a void has opened, ripped open by such open and flagrant insidious intent to which the air whirl towards his form--one that cast a shadow above the fallen knight. The stare reflected a composure that sought even devour the foolish knave that forgot the rule of gravity, and soon hoped it would soon forget the law of the wild.


Not a far-cry from the devouring gaze he once easily bore in the mention of a fighter from Parshum, but it was much less in its need. As the war-poet of Anahit looked upon the armored messed that fell beside him, he could not help but lean forward and kneel. Placing a firm--constricting--palm upon their shoulder.


"....To watch from here? Wise choice. Wise choice indeed, Daft Knave. You smell it too? Aspiring souls seeking utter destruction and to test their 'mettle'--perhaps you are like me. Couldn't stand to watch. A scent that beckoned us so easily, so seductively. It shall tempt me no longer dear Daft Knave." He mocked that fallen Solana with such ease and such familiarity. "Or is it that you scared? Hmph! No matter. Please watch and I'll give you reason to do so." A stern voice came forth as it ended his 'deliberation' with Solana. Perhaps pre-battle jitters or highs. Perhaps he desired to share a thought--or Perhaps a fine bit of bullying before the maiming of a man of honor before them. Ambiguity was not kind here. He desired her to realize that.


"We have mysterious challenger! One that only gave a single name! How interesting! Introducing the contender under the name: Wrym!" The crowd cheered, while some laughed at the eccentricity of such terms. A fighter without a name. A criminal? A fool with a hope to lose without shame? However some knew who he was. A name that was not kind to utter and did not need to be uttered in the presence of good men and good women. Aloysius Amon-Apophis. No honor in a name like that. Would be considered a depraved cult leader and sadist if not for his actions and participation in War of Royalty granting him some sort of respect amongst his peers. Whatever "peers" bands of soldiers for hire may be. No matter if they became vassal lords or the high-life nobility they "earned" in the swathes of young men they cut down for a bit of coin. Aloysius cared little for coin, though. A man who enjoys war. Enjoys the strife and the conflict. A man that wrote poetry towards it like some star-crossed lover. How can that man hold even a small bit of reverence in the way he enjoys war. A man that manipulates young men into battle, spread religious teachings to destroy one's foe.


He looked to the crowd, silent as he came in--stoic and uncaring for it all. All this spectacle and glamour. What was the purpose of this? What was to be gained by become enthralled in the person and not the exchange of blows the would proceed? As he peered with eyes so narrowed and voracious. Alas he found the jewel of this city to which he came to greet like a friend from so long ago. The curvature of his mouth appeared and then quickly faded as he awaited for his opponent to step forth....The Monk from Parshum.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Deathchart in the previous IC



Deathchart as

T'Odis Merchant Uma Drefa
​

_____​

Location: Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The sixth hour of morning (6 A.M.)

_____​

The wooden sign banged against the old battered cart. The wind carrying it in all sorts of directions. The word "Closed" painted onto the plank with a fine artistic lettering. The owner of the cart, Uma Drefa, stepped out of the small shack he calls home. Each step causing the floor to creak and cry. He walks over to the counter and stares at the letter opener like he does each morning. He picks it up, the cold silver causing his hands to tense up, and places the tip on his chest. He does this every morning and, like every morning, Uma puts the letter opener back onto the wooden table of his rundown shack. He couldn't end it today. He has had something on his mind for a couple of weeks now. He couldn't end it not feeding his curious mind. About two and a half weeks ago he had heard a rumor of a slave with bright beautiful blue eyes and snow white hair. One of Uma's noble customers asked him if he would be interested. Uma declined and explained that he didn't believe in such behavior. Buying and selling slaves was never Uma's style. As days went by Uma noticed he couldn't get this girl off of his mind. Was it because she was a T'Odis? Was it because he didn't know how old she was? Was it just an excuse to go off and break his daily routine? Regardless of the reason, she glued herself to the front of Uma's mind. He began questioning some of his noble customers, attempting to figure out her present location. One day, Uma asked a plump man in usual noble garb where he could find a slave looking like Uma. The man chuckled and told him that one was just bought at the Nevvarron Estate. This was two days ago. After putting the letter opener down this morning Uma made the decision to go looking for the girl. The trip wouldn't take long at all, especially on horseback.


Uma went to the stables close by and rented a horse. After the beast was saddled up and ready, Uma made his way towards the estate. As Uma got further and further away from his home, a dark feeling in his hard began to lift. He felt alive, free, and reborn. Seeing the new scenery and the familiar scenery made him almost want to sprint there himself. The daydreaming and taking in all of the scenery made the trip feel like minuets when in reality it took a few hours. Uma arrived at the estate. It was just like any other estate that a noble family had. Decorative, fancy, and full of workers. The difference was that this one was huge. One of the largest Uma had ever seen. He tied the horse in the stables right outside the front gate. He walked up to the first person he saw, a woman carrying a basket of apples. He offered to help the woman since she seemed to be struggling with the monstrous basket. She declined at first but after some pestering the woman agreed. Uma placed the bottom of the basket onto his shoulder and used his arm to hold it up. His useless arm staying at his side in it's usual spot. Uma talked to the woman on the way and asked her if she had seen the T'Odis slave girl. The mention of slaves made the woman tense up. She denied any slave activity there. Uma persisted.


"Madam, I am not the guard. I am only searching for the girl. I-" Uma stopped. He had once again realized he didn't have a reason for seeing the girl. He didn't know why he just needed to. "I-I want to take her home."


The woman looked at Uma with concern in her eyes. "If I told you, he would have my head" she whispered. Uma could make the assumption that the woman meant the head of the estate.


Uma looked back at the woman with a serious face. "I will make sure he doesn't know we even met. I promise you that." The sternest in his voice solidifying Uma's promise to the woman.


The woman looked around and whispered into Uma's ear, "The son was seen taking the girl to the stables. He loves riding, but no one knows where he goes. Not even his father. That's all I know, I'm sorry." The woman grabbed the apples from Uma, put her head down, and walked back onto her normal path.


Uma walked back to the stables and began searching for horse tracks other that his own. After a bit of searching he managed to find some promising ones. Uma mounted his steed and began his search, following the tracks. The tracks led to a small wooden house. A sign swung from brand new ropes above the building. "Bakery" was painted on the oak sign. Uma could make out two figures inside. The bakery was small and almost hidden. The lack of customers suggested that it was a local hidden gem. A horse was tied to the fence around the edge of the bakery. A saddle for two laid on it's back. Uma made his way towards the bakery. He placed his hand onto the doorknob and froze. What was he going to say? What was she going to say? Nothing? Should he just leave? No, he needed to know. Needed to scratch the mental itch that had been plaguing him for two and a half weeks. He opened the door and the bell above it rang. The owner behind the counter had said something but Uma wasn't paying any attention. When he saw her it shot a unfamiliar feeling into his heart. He could see his father in her eyes, his homeland in her hair, and his younger self in her face. He stood there stunned, frozen, and unable to say a word.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Zooks as a collaboration with @Savagai in the previous IC


Zooks as

Lilly


@Savagai as

Rufus​

_____​

Location: Nevarron estate, Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: the twelfth hour of morning (12 P.M.)

_____
​

The Horse continued a slow walk for now. The rider didn't want to scare the T'Odis girl by trotting faster. Rufus kept one arm around Lilly and the other at the bridle. They ventured further into the woods near his father's estate. "This is not like your home is it?" Rufus knew the girl would understand him barely, but he continued to talk "I love the woods, here did Sef and I met a few years ago when I was riding here. We talked so much that day. A month later we had our first date here, it was amazing."


Lilly's blue eyes floated over the tree's of the Forest as they entered, momentary widening in amazement. There were tree's in her homeland but they were almost always blanketed in a heavy snow except for a few times a year that one might call 'Spring'. It was so colorful here! As he started to speak, she found even if she could not understand his every words alone were reassuring and had none of the hard-set tone she was so used to from these Nobles. She relaxed down a little more against his frame even as her eyes drifted up and over her shoulder to him. "Sef?" She inquired softly, putting a hand on her chin in thought. "Other-?" She said trying to piece the conversation together and wondering if that was the other man he had spoken of either in the night with his confession.


After a few minutes they arrived at a small cottage. A old horse stood next to it. Rufus climbed off of the horse and helped Lilly to get off of it as well. Rufus walked into the small cottage. Rufus had bought this house nearly ten years ago. Here he hid his normal clothing. As he changed, he also prepared some tea. When Rufus wanted to be alone, he came here to be by himself and away from the stress of the Estate and his father.


As they came to a small cottage and Rufus helped slid the girl to her feet, and once they entered he was almost immediately changing again. The girl, not even sure why now, completely turned away to stare out of the window like it was somehow not her place despite having been more then acquainted with that same body hours earlier. It seemed like the more time she was spending with this Noble's son the more shy and coy the girl was getting. Maybe it was just reflecting from his own gentle nature. Once he was re-clothed the girl wandered to sit at the table and waited patiently for him to make some tea. She would have made it herself but didn't want to interrupt what he had already started.


Now it was quiet she found her fingers already slipping into the hidden pocket into her cloak to slip out the same fabric from earlier and a needle with thread to slowly continue her cross-stitch of the winter landscape with a dashing furry creature. And like with always she started a soft low hum in a soothing, lullaby voice.


The tea was ready and Rufus took two glasses and filled them. He walked over to Lilly and sat down across from her. He placed one glass in front of her while saying "Here, drink. " The Noble took small sips from his drink.


Meanwhile Nevarrus was furious. His son took the slave girl off of the estate! The Lord Noble explicitly told him he was never to do so, so he went to his son's chambers to find nobody there!


After they finished their drinks, Lilly and Rufus continued their journey. They went through some small villages, the river and the forest. Finally, just after noon, they arrived at Rufus favorite bakery in the whole Kingdom. Rufus helped Lilly off his horse with ease as he kept a hand on her back and gently ushered her inside. He pulled out a seat for her at a table somewhere to the back. "Wait here..." He said as he went to the counter and bought an assortment of pastries just for the two.


Lilly sat patiently as Rufus told her to. She wondered what the Noble was clutching as he offered her the pastry and she ate it with a confused expression that turned into wonder. It was delicious! "Has...been fun." She whispered with a warm smile but that soon faded. "Rufus's father....will be angry..." lowering her hands with the pastry half eaten into her lap. Wincing even now as she already knew the horrible night she would encounter simply because of that fact.


Rufus looked up to the girl "Indeed!" He smiled "It has been great." As the girl continued, Rufus became a little worried. His father was furious, he knew it. "Don't worry Lilly, tonight you will sleep in my room, but you don't have to sleep with me. " He tried to comfort her so she wouldn't get the wrong ideas. Letting her stay with his father would be very dangerous.


Lilly looked genuinely surprised as the Noble offered her to sleep in his room, which wasn't really surprising in itself but then continued on to say she didn't have to sleep with him? Her mouth opened wide, as if to say something but only gaped as a fish out of water. She shook her head then. "Rufus's Father would allow it not!" She said in a fluster, "Rufus can not go against his Father!" Glancing down to her lap. "...not for Lilly!....not worth it...." curling her arms around herself, clinging to her own biceps as she looked to her legs in a shy fashion.


"No Lilly.." he found he really did care for the Girl, and he refused to let people do anything cruel to her anymore. "You don't have to sleep with anyone anymore if you do not wish to." He didn't care what his father would think or do, he was planning on leaving anyway. "I don't care what my father thinks or does, from now on, I protect you."


She couldn't understand it. Why this man so desperately wanted to sleep with her earlier and now, didn't want to? She couldn't understand it... understand him. What had changed? "But...earlier when we... when you... why not now? Why protect Lilly? Not worth it... just white haired slave... no worth..." grasping at a long trail of her hair to show him, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She had been made to feel worthless since she was 12, why protect her and not use her? With tears still in the corners of her sapphire blue eyes she blinked momentarily as she heard a bell and still clutching at a lock of her white hair, she turned slightly to see what the noise was.


In much the same manner as the man who was standing at the door, Lilly was frozen. Her eyes where still glossy like she had dirt stuck in them. The timing almost looking like she were simply holding out her hair as if to say, it's white see? In all her years she had never even seen another T'Odis man, not in Kildra. Shipped from here to their in carriages, between old Kildran men for a price. It was almost like if there were T'Odis people in Kildra they purposefully kept her away, like it might let slip just what she was and what they bought her for.


He reminded her of her Father back home, of her Older Brothers and Uncles. She found her body leap up with such force the chair was knocked from behind her and crashed against the ground. She turned and ran to him but then skidded just before him, words falling like a tsunami from her mouth as she spoke to him in their nature language, her hands reaching out as if to clasp at his shirt but stopped just before. Instead they clasped one another to tuck against her chest. "Iuo, T'Odis nem? vrun Plyga hemb? (You, T'Odis man? From White land?)" Her eyes burning now as tears looking like they would seep from the very corners of her eyes and a droplet or two almost escaped. She looked so young, and now as she stood before him she looked utterly terrified. Like the years of pulling inside her shell were starting to shatter just simply by being near someone that was not from Kildra. "Su humt... symsa Y lefa daam T'Odis... saam T'Odis wauwha! Su jumt! (So long... since I have been T'Odis... seen T'Odis people! So long!)" Her voice unlike the clunky dialect she sounded in the few words in Kildran, her lips slipping into a much more beautiful and almost sing-song tone now she was using her normal language.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Kayso in the previous IC

Kayso as


Exiled Noble Garrus Corsolus (Bergen)​

_____​

Location: Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Quarter past the tenth hour of morning (10:15 A.M.)

_____​

The air was sweet and warm and loud - very loud. The Tournament of Iorn was the most well-known of its kind, and people came from every pinpoint on the compass rose to either participate or observe, and it was evident in the pure vibration of human presence that filled the dawning atmosphere. Garrus came to the tournament every year, both as participant and observer. For four years he had been tracking down information on the whereabouts of Prince Unger and one of the best places to do this was the tournament. Since escaping his family’s imprisonment, he had learned that many of those who had dutifully fought side by side with Unger at his last stand had either pledged their allegiance to the mendacious queen at his defeat or had been stripped of their lands, titles, and possessions and forced to live like outcasts as a result of their unwavering fealty. The tournament was the perfect place for a slighted noble to seek a small semblance of revenge without being imprisoned, and also a place for defectors to attempt to prove themselves in front of their new royal puppet master. By signing up as a combatant for the tournament every year, Garrus could scope out the other contenders and glean any desired information as necessary. He could also let off a little of his own steam in the process, which was always a good thing. So far, however, his efforts had proved slight, and only a few frightened traitors even had any insignificant information to give.


But Garrus didn't intend to give up. Four years of work with nothing to show for it didn't break his spirit, as his spirit had already been broken. He had nothing left to live for except the possibility of locating his friend and making amends for his fatal absence before succumbing to the sweet arms of death and Marit. The woman he’d lost but not forgotten, loved but never cherished. He could not love again, and he didn't try. He spent much of his time with women, yes, because women were pleasant company, and there was never a shortage of willing companions for a disheveled yet handsome returning tournament contender who knew his fair share of honeyed words. But it was always the same, and nobody else ever could be.


Garrus stood in the busy market square that spilled like ale outside the arena walls. He had a bit of free time to watch, listen… and flirt.

Clarissa

Delatura

Lucia​

A group of young noblewomen stood near the east entrance of the arena, chatting emphatically with each other before the opening remarks. Garrus began walking over to them, catching the eye of the quieter one in the group, whose eyes widened a little in surprise, but made no other visual signs of recognition. In fact, she turned her face away from him as he approached.


“Garrus!” one of the women shouted. The others turned to face him. Well, all but the one.


“Ladies.” Garrus returned. “And how are you this fine, jubilant morning?” He placed his hands on the shoulders of the two nearest women, drawing them closer.


“This morning is too overcast for my tastes, Garrus.” said Clarissa, the most talkative and also the most frivolous. “It is better to have the sun in all its glory shine upon us, don’t you think?”


“My dears,” Garrus continued. “Your unmatched beauty has stopped the poor sun’s own scorching heart. You must give him a moment to catch up.”


The girls giggled, except for Lucia, the quiet one, who rolled her eyes and removed Garrus’ arm from her shoulders. “What an ape.”


“Lucy, you mistake my admiration for extravagance. I assure you- ”


“I never mistake anything that comes out of your mouth, Mr. Corsolus. I just know to undress it and I will have something closer to the truth.”


Garrus feigned looking hurt, while another woman giggled something about undressing. He decided to leave it alone for now.


“Any interesting characters today, my lovely little birds?”


“Nothing much different than the usual.” said a petite brunette, Delatura. “Though there is one man in particular that fits the ‘sniveling, haughty, and fearful’ description you always ask for.”


“Is there now? Well tell me, fair Delatura; do you know where I may find this pitiful cur?”


Delatura was eager to reply. “He appears to be participating in the fisticuffs tournament today. I noticed him making his way into the contestants’ waiting area not long before you arrived.”


This was good news. He didn’t expect to come upon any opportunities this early in the games. Ah, the girls never failed him.


“As usual, ladies, I thank you for your assistance. I hope you enjoy this year's festivities.” He kissed Clarissa on the cheek, tugging on the hair of the unimpressible Lucy, who rolled her eyes again. Garrus made as if to leave.


“Say, Garrus?” asked Clarissa.


“Yes, my dear?”


“Why are you always looking for these kinds of fighters, year after year? You know, the ‘snively, snobby, scared type’?”


“‘Sniveling, haughty, and fearful,’ dear Rissa. There is a big difference between such words.” He took her hand with a lavish flourish, bowing his head toward the ground. She giggled, and he stood up again. “I do it for you, dear Rissa, and the well-being of all beautiful young women who must walk the same streets as these most detestable of men. I do it to thwart them! To humiliate them in such a stately and public gathering as this, where they may, by my hand, be shamed into more acceptable behavior.” He finished his bluff with a wink and a smile, as he finished most everything else in life.


Lucia raised an eyebrow in subtle suspicion and exasperation. Garrus needed to watch his step with her, as usual. She was sharper than the others, and not as easily conquered by his garish facade. The only one worthy of his attentions, really. Infamous as they were.


Delatura spoke again. “Well, as usual, there are plenty of men who fit that description, Garrus, so we would be honored to have you fighting on our behalf.” She offered her own hand to Garrus, which he took, much in the same manner as previously.


“Don’t forget about the others, foolish girl.” Lucia muttered as she decided she’d had enough of the conversation and took a step away from the group.


“What others?” Delatura asked, irritated to have had her swooning interrupted.


“The ones you were so concerned with warning Mr. Corsolus about just last night.” She kept walking.


“Oh, yes!” Delatura gasped. “There are some absolute fiends in the tournament this year! I saw them yesterday, one who nearly killed his opponent, and many who have yet to fight. They say one is a giant, even by T’Odis standards! Do be careful, Garrus. I shall faint if anything happens to you!” Clarissa, not to be outdone, joined in with her own concerned looks and pleading expressions.


“My dears.” Garrus replied. “Would I do it any other way?”


“Ha!” he heard Lucia softly scoff in the distance.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Goaty Goat in the previous IC


@Goaty Goat as

Mercenary Company of the Black Snake

Leyra, Ainu 'Wolf', Damos, and Taio​

_____​

Location: Nevarron estate, Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: the twelfth hour of morning (12 P.M.)

_____
​

They had been on the road for weeks now going from Hold to Hold, Estate to Estate, looking for Lords or rich merchants with the money to hire them for whatever they needed. Today would probably be no different but Leyra promised herself every morning that fate would come knocking sooner or later. She gave Damos a tired look as he secured her cuffs, she didn't get any proper sleep last night because of another vision. She could still remember it so vividly. 'Thunder storms, falling sphere, claws and teeth, screams, fire and the stench of death.' She looked at Wolf with an apologetic smile, he had a fresh scratch mark or two in his face because he tried to calm her down.


"Morning Yela." She said to Damos' pet goat as she petted her, why he kept a goat as a pet was still beyond her but it was nice to have something else to pet than horses. One of the men gave her a piece of bread before helping her onto Lada's back and making sure she was firmly in the saddle. "Wolf, haven't died yet?" She asked Wolf in a joking tone and only got a beastly grunt as reply. Around her the company finished packing up the camp and loading the tents onto the carts. "With luck we're at the next Estate before dusk, think you can manage on just that piece of bread till then?" Damos asked as he rode his own horse alongside Leyra's. "Are we out of food then?" She asked with slight concern in her voice. "Yes, but if I recall correctly there is a bakery along our route where we will stack up whatever we can stack." Damos replied calmly as the rest of the company had mounted on either horseback or on the back of the carts. It didn't take long for the company to start moving and since Leyra's horse was being led by Damos she decided to take a nap until the next stop.

----------​

"Ainu, we still haven't talked about last week..." Taio said to Wolf. "Please tell me what happened, pretty please?" She begged him with big eyes. "Fuck sake Taio, will you quit bugging me about it?" Wolf reacted quite irritated. 'What was wrong with him today?' Taio thought to herself as she felt hurt deep inside, she likes Ainu but he's very arbitrary in his moods and it makes conversation... Difficult. "I'm sorry..." She mumbled knowing that he doesn't care whether somebody was sorry or not. "But what happened with me?" She asked carefully. Wolf didn't reply at all and the silence was terrifying as the moved through the landscape on horseback. It seemed like an eternity until he finally did decide to say something. "Okay, fuck it." He said frustrated and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "You got yourself so fucking drunk that it was impossible to have a conversation with you and then you started rubbing yourself all over me like some horny female cat. I knocked you out and dumped you in your own bed before you would literally fuck up." He said with a tone that a father uses to chastise an unruly child. "I did... What?!" Taio yelled in surprise and tried to disappear into her horse when some of the men in front of them looked behind them with frowns on their faces. "Do you make the same amount of noise when you see a deer?" Wolf asked her with a tone that didn't really make it clear to her whether it was a serious question or not. "Fuck you Ainu, you ass." She said to him as she playfully punched his shoulder. He poked her back with one of his fingers before saying. "No thanks." There was only silence afterwards and Taio was left with her thoughts. 'I just wish he would see me like I see him...' A hopeless thought and she sighed it off as they rode on.

----------​

Hours had passed and the height of the sun indicated noon was coming close. Damos drank from his flask and spotted the bakery ahead. He beckoned his lieutenants to him. "Corwin, you take charge of the carts and let them stop near the bakery. Lutwin, you will take your men up the road and take a break there and watch for trouble. Kardran, same for you but you and your men will remain here and wait for the signal to move again. Nids, you will take the rest of the men and take them a bit off the road and onto that field of grass and rest as well, send out hunters and gatherers to supplement our food stockpile." He said to his lieutenants who in response nodded, rode off to their troops and executed their orders. "Wolf and Leyra, you guys will be coming with me and Taio, you just follow Nids and see if you can hunt some food okay?" He said to his close friends. "Fine, don't let the baker turn you into a pie." Taio said sarcastically as she wandered off.

Damos, Wolf and Leyra dismounted at the bakery and saw that a few guests with horses were already there. Leyra pointed at the horse with a saddle for two. "Guess some noble is out here with his secret lover?" She asked in a mocking tone. "Wouldn't surprise me." Damos replied as he opened the door to the bakery. There was a T'Odis in the way and if there was something Damos didn't like it were big fellows standing in the way. "Scoot over big guy." He said as he shoved the man aside, not really hard, but hard enough to shove a T'Odis out of his way. He ignored the other patrons and went straight for the baker. "Wander, it has been a long time but I was hoping that you have a surplus of bread right now, I might be running a tad low on my food supplies." He said to the baker in a friendly manner, he's been here before a few times and the man just really knew how to make good pastries.

----------​

Ainu followed after Damos when he opened the door and grinned when he shoved aside a T'Odis. 'Hang on... T'Odis out here?!' He thought to himself and that's when saw the other T'Odis, a young girl who could at best be 17 years and was darn pretty, but also quite out of place out here. He moved a step closer and wanted to take another step but felt something tug his chest piece. "Don't. Scare. Her." Leyra whispered in his ear as she stopped next to him and scratched her nose with her cuffed hands. Ainu shook his head and looked at the T'Odis girl again. "Vhupar uv Pymgar, pleg iuo bu lara uun mug ym T'Odis?" ("Flower of Winter, what you do here and not in T'Odis?") He asked with a concerned tone in slightly broken T'Odis but with a warm tone to it.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Trust in the previous IC


@Trust as
Solana
_____​

Location: The Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6. Day 15


Time: The tenth hour of morning (10 A.M.)

_____
​

Solana, after her little moment of sheer and utter humiliation and quite a sickening experience altogether, shuffled up and away from the upturned contents that used to be apart of the family that was her stomach. It had made her feel somewhat better, this was all nullified whenever one of the most awe-inspiring yet epstrangely terrifying men she had ever seen walked up to her, she averted her pretty, sky-blue eyes away from him, knowing that he might mistake it for her meaning disrespect . She could barely hear what he was saying over the ringing in her ears, but she knew that they were definitely meant with cruel intent. He didn't seem like much of a humorous fellow. "I-I.. I just fell M-Mi'lord... I apologise most graciously for interrupting you." the blond-haired lady gasped as she grabbed her helmet. She hoped that he wouldn't force her into servitude for some reason or another, she had heard that those from other countries are dangerous, which is one of the reasons she had been house-bound for the majority of her life.


She scrambled onto her metal-clad feet before hearing some murmurs spreading through the crowds. "Isn't that Solana...? I thought she went missing from her home this morning..." "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing...".


"Farewell mi'lord, I wish you the best of luck on your battle" Solana mumbled with a terrified and obviously worried grin before she sprinted off. "Stop her!" a guard yelled out a moment before she left the arena, already shoving the iron helmet onto her head.


Solana wasn't exactly the fast runner, even when she was wearing light and tight clothing, which usually brought about some cheers from the local men, despite her being a noble, so she most certainly wasn't moving very quickly in a heavy suit of armour. She also wasn't in the best condition either, she still felt rather sick from the contrast of sweet and spicy food smells and the taste of uncooked fish and meat lying on her tongue. Even just the clamminess of the air around her from all the sweating, greedy merchants that had flocked to the town like sheep was making her feel even more weighted. The guards couldn't find her among the crowds so she swiftly lost them, but she kept running anyway until she was completely tired out.


Her body was now drenched in sweat, and she wished she could simply ask her maid to prepare a nice, hot bath for her, but she knew that would require her to return to her home not too far away, and she was having a bit of a rebellion against her father. He had simply refused her to leave the estate so she was essentially forbidden from entering her cousins' town in case she fell into some random love with a "petty money-grabber" as her father was so keen on saying. But what could be more noble than a quest for love..? So she had vowed in her own mind to at least watch the arena fights considering she had never even entered the place before, and she doubted she would find the love of her life in such a place as this, but she couldn't help but dream of what possible romantic situations she could find herself in.


He might save her from the guards... Fend them off, against the odds and steal her heart with his sheer strength...


He could wrap his beautiful voice around her with a silky, silver tongue, capable of taking any woman's heart but choosing her...


He could possibly even get to her warm heart through her stomach by handing her only the most delectable of delicacies...


She could see it in her mind now... And so, she daydreamed once more, walking around and around in circles until she finally caught herself once more. She had been walking away from the arena the entire time, despite her objective being there. Solana let out a groan and, once more, delved into the chasms of people, food, ales, trinkets and money. Lots, and lots of money.


Upon returning to the arena she soon realized her stupidity considering she had been running from every guard she had seen upon entering the town. "Why run everytime you see a guard when you can hide? And aren't you already tired? Why not just go find a nice place to sleep until tomorrow? there's going to be more matches anyway." She thought to herself and began cautiously trekking her way back to the arena and found a nice, comfy, small room around the outskirts of the large arena. She was much too tired to even be annoyed from the lack of a bed, so she simply lay down in her heavy suit of armour, helmet on, and slowly drifted off to sleep... She Knew she was going to have to run again once she woke up, so why not take a rest?

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @CupAndCough in the previous IC

@CupAndCough as


Aloysius​

_____​

Location: The Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Quarter until the tenth hour of morning (9:45 A.M.)

______​

| Aloysius Amon-Apophis|


|"You don't fear a man for his ability to kill you, but his intense abnormal desire to do so"|


|| Leader of Empty Ouroboros | Sole Master of The Wyrm's Intent | War-Poet of Anahit ||


|| Location: Iorn, Kildra. Fisticuffs Tournament Grounds ||

|| [|"A Snake That Speaks? Beware For That One Pours Venom Not In the Blood, But The Soul." |] ||​

Aloysius watched as the flustered knight make way for him. It was a rather embarrassing sight to watch, but in all regards Aloysius let out a small scoff. The use of 'milord' more amused him than annoyed him. A surprising turn of events for him as he remembered times where he outright despised being associated with the kings of men.


Little affected him in the way of truly rousing his ire (one such thing is insulting his faith in Anahit), and being associated with lords was no different--however it did, in fact, have some effect on him. Lords and Kings were disgusting interpretation of stagnancy to which he hated. For all Kings and Queens wish to extend their rule and offer no change. Such abhorrent fixation on consistency annoyed him greatly, as such he found it oddly strange that he would be considered with much respect as milord. He slyly smirked, watching Solana leave.


"May Anahit Bless You with Her with many challenges, young Daft Knave" Aloysius said his farewells to the young knight as she scuttled away from the match area proper. "Perhaps we'll meet again--hopefully I'll be at the other end of your blade..." He prayed and whispered--wishing that the knight he so easily bullied was enough to give him a struggle in a fight if they ever met again. As always the desire for battle and war was strong within this strange war-priest.

***​

"And now let's welcome his challenger! Hailing from a strange colony in the land of Parshum is a clergy of monks who trains in martial arts! One such person is here with us today: Guan Ming of The Empty Palm!" The fight coordinator exclaimed with bombastic and theatrical measure. "We have two fighters skilled in the art of hand to hand combat--but who will be the victor in this grudge match? The Mysterious Wyrm? Or The Monk hailing from the Exotic Land Across the Sea? "


With the announcement the bars across from Aloysius rose and walked in a barrel-chested man of impressive stature and build. Dressed rather modestly and without much as a peace of jewelry, save for a single bead that hung from his neck that nestled itself in the collarbone of his chest. The modest way of dressing was nothing more than a mere cloth pants and cloth shirt that was worn from his waist to show his bare chest. Bald, perhaps intentionally so as some monks traditionally do so, was the style of his hair (or lack thereof)--however from his face plumed a regal and pure white beard. Giving the fighter an aged appearance that his body and physique did not. The story his facial hair told of his age which was then reciprocated by the story the numerous scars and bandages that adorned his body that were more numerous than the cheap linens that he wore. Many battles, Many mistakes. Perhaps many forget the idea of what a mistake does. Of what a scar represents. A learning experience that teachers the owner--and by the collective amount the man has received shows that he is very learned.


Age has not made him a weak and fragile man-- it has focused him and turned him into the most perfect version of himself. Self-attainment of one's inner perfection. Aloysius smirked to the old man, who then smile back. As if to communicate the concept of amusement. Perhaps the older man felt the same--battle ready and wanting a challenge. Or maybe he was surprised by how much Aloysius desired this fight. As if a rabid animal, starve of food, entered the ring. Aloysius tossed off his armor, slamming onto the ground creating a plume of dust that rose behind him. The armor's loss revealed Aloysius's own assorted scars. Perhaps out of kinship he did this, but who's to say?


"Your Technique. Tell me it", Aloysius ordered Guan Ming before he began to crack his bones in his neck, rotating his head across his shoulders back and forth--occasionally rotating his arms as well. "I am the master of the Wyrm's Intent. For that reason I desire to know what your fist represents!"


The monk laughed heartily, his booming laughter carrying farther than intended. His chest expanding with each gasp of air, to which showed the extensiveness of his training and perseverance. The ferocity and the demanding nature of Aloysius's tone amused him greatly, for what strange master of a martial arts can become so easily enveloped by such thoughts. However as he looked towards Aloysius he caught a glimpse of something strange. His eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as he witnessed something fierce. Something within Aloysius's eye that was more truthful than the lie of friendliness amusement he displayed earlier. An intent that was disgusting and horrible. An unutterable desire to destroy and kill. To maim. To create malice. From laughter to disgust the monks posture changed. From calmness to a fighting stance he responded.


"My Technique? The Empty Palm. As the announce has stated---Though I never heard of your technique.." He snidely commented. "Perhaps that's why I feel so disgusted with your true intentions at the moment. You plan to kill me don't you?" He queried with a slight dose of scornful piety towards the mercenary leader.


"Wow! The astounding nature of the foreign arts! To read a man's soul just by studying him...How scary!" He mocked the monk, Aloysius was not unfamiliar with taunting his foe. It was even a technique he learned from his old days in the clergy, "Perhaps if you know that much--what good is asking then? Pointless conversation, yes? So Guan-Ming of the Empty Palm, let's move forward into the future?" A friendly nature came forth from him--it was a mocking display as he readied himself.


'Yes, let's." Guan answered back. The two rushed toward each other. The wind rushed past them as they dashed toward each other. Guan's arm subtly motioned towards Aloysius's abdomen as he charged the blood-thristy monster of a man. An open palm. As the two came closer together, Gaun's palm dashed up and forward at immense speed and force. A slight gust of air kicked up as the arm reached the extend of it's length, but met no target. Aloysius had dashed well into the range of safety as he close far into Guan's person space. And with a single knee he made sure his presence was known.


CRASH. The bone crashed upon Guan's chin like a cannon ball. With snake-striking speed, Aloysius planted his knee into Guan's chin--staggering the old man. And for a small amount of shame--he realized that this man would not kill him so easily. He had the chance and decided not to. A mistake that Guan would turn into a lesson for Aloysius. After the strike to Guan's chin, Aloysius jumped back towards a neutral position. Out of range from Guan's motions.


The old man's blood dribbled from his mouth as he spat out a globule of mass and nerve. A small tooth. A lesson in humility from Aloysius as those show piety to him don't last long. Aloysius began to correct his posture and began to slyly clap at the event. Admiring his work. However as quick as he entered a sense of calm, a bloodlust rose. He dashed towards the Monk with greater ferocity.


A leap into the air, followed by a rather swift kick towards the old man's chest. "From Blood We Reap!" Aloysius taunted him, reciting his mantras. The kick was met with the Monk's palm--redirecting it away from his body. The crowd roared as the parry was successful. Though, like water, Aloysius easily switched to another slam into the older man with a roundhouse kick. "Though The Cost Is Steep!". Aloysius continued is poetry.


The old man stumbled, but regain posture as he sent an powerful strike with his hand. Slamming into the chest of the madman. The assault stopped as the palm reached his chest--until both hands of the priest of Anahit grabbed tightly to the monk's forearm. "And With Daily Toil We Sow!", Aloysius continued as he hoisted the man over his shoulder. Slamming him onto the sandy ground. A massive THUD rose forth from the event. The monk coughed, the wind was knock out from within him. What manner of man was this?


Aloysius slowly began to return to the same neutral position as before. "With Great Splendor We Know!" He proudly proclaimed his verses. The monk began to rise to his feet. Unimpressed by the whole affair. Aloysius egged the man forward as he motioned with his hands to come attack him. Guan rushed towards Aloysius, his feet slamming into the fields. Charging at the man he sent a rapid succession of flips and pinwheel kicks, Forcing Aloysius to remain on the defensive. Constantly redirecting the swift strikes aside him--exerting little effort in the way of defense. Some of the hits found their mark, slamming into his forearms and biceps.


Aloysius was enthralled at the fighting style, swift, open handed, and overwhelming slashing motions. Nothing like he had ever seen before. At least from human hands. "Through Strife, Conflict and War Beyond Replete!" Announcing his counterattack. As the Monk attempt move faster in his strikes, but as if a snake-like quality overtook Aloysius, the man slithered between the strikes. The crowd was in a roar. Another slam of his knee, this time in the Monk's gut--however that was not enough the the man. As Guan spat blood and bile across the arena, Aloysius sent a cruel claw into the chest of Guan. Planting pronged fingers into the sternum of the Parshumian monk he gripped and tethered to himself to the brutalized monk. The monk groan and roared in agony as the fingers pierce his skin, as the hand and arm began to slowly and methodically twist.


"Bless Me With Endless Battle, In Rapturous Combat, Bless Me! My Fair Lady Anahit!" The words of his mantra and pray had rose to a swelling point as he threw the monk away from him. Knowing that the full fight was far-from over.


The Monk held his chest--five deep pits. All draining a deep red. Guan sneered as he realized that he was truly fighting for his life. "You are too.." Parshumian man began to pant "Sanctimonious for a young whelp! A religion of war--such barbarism and callous disrespect for human lives" He chided the man. Aloysius turned, annoyed at the monk's disgusted with his scripture and limerick. The two met eyes, and for a moment the killing intent lied in both of them. The battle was far from over.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by @Trickster314 as a collaboration with Kayso in the previous IC

@Trickster314 as
Former Kildran Noble Vincent Florian


@Kayso as
Garrus​

______
​

Location: The Badger’s Tail tavern, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The twelfth hour of morning (12 P.M.)

______​

The early Tournament in the town of Iorn meant a large influx of people into the town, merchants, peasants, nobles, they all descended upon the town in great swarms of humanity. Of course, this meant that the taverns would be crowded with people in search of food or drink. The Badger’s Tail a rather upscale tavern known for their fish dishes was no exception.


Dozens of men and women were present celebrating the festival, eating and drinking in abundance. Yet there was one man, who did not partake in the cheer. A young man in his twenties sat alone in the far left corner table, slowly sipping a cup of beer.


Sitting in a rowdy tavern in Iorn, getting drunk on beer while wallowing in self-pity was not what Vincent Florian expected to be doing two years after the War of Royalty ended. Once he was the third son of one of the most prominent families of the Kildra, but that was before his father Alexander doomed his family to a future of mediocrity by being too shortsighted to submit to the false Queen.


Sure Vincent was able to make a respectable amount of coin by placing a rather risky bet on himself, in the grand melee where he managed to down twelve opponents before being struck down himself by a blow from behind. But what did a little wealth, in comparison to what he had before?


“Heh, to think I fought in the Battle of the Boar’s Den for this?” Vincent mumbled in a drunken stupor.


As per his custom, Garrus walked into the nearest umbrous tavern before heading to the arena antechamber to search for what could be an answer he was not ready to hear. Sitting down at the bar, he noticed the dark room was full of shady characters of the mercenary breed. Looking somewhat out of place was a younger man, nicely dressed and sufficiently inebriated, slouched on his stool twelve feet to his left. Ordering a strong drink in a small glass, Garrus proceeded to scan the room and partake in his favorite innocent pastime: people watching. He did not have long to waste time, however, when he heard a voice from the end of the bar table.


“To think I fought in the battle of Boar’s Den for this?”


Garrus turned his head toward the source of the voice and found himself looking at the young man in the fine clothing. Not one to let an opportunity at drunken revelation pass, Garrus made his way to the end of the counter.


“Excuse me, young sir. I couldn’t help but overhear your remark about fighting at Boar’s Den. I, myself was there.” he lied. “Terrible times, they were.” He put his glass to his lips, hoping for a response.


Looking around Vincent spots a young man dressed in clothing fitting that of a noble. Normally Vincent would have stopped talking for fear of attracting the attention of servants of the Queen, but the alcohol loosened his tongue and the words continued to spill out.


“Terrible Times? It was a massacre, that damn whore’s mercenaries overwhelmed us before we could mount a defense.” Vincent replied to the man. “And that’s before Unger…” Vincent cut himself off realizing he had said too much to a stranger without even understanding their intentions. Slowly reaching his hand towards his dagger, in anticipation of violence.


Garrus only laughed and took another swallow from his glass. “Whore. You got that right, my friend. I take it you were a blade drawn against her?”


"Yes, I stood with Unger. I take it you did as well?" Vincent asked.


Garrus hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to reveal about himself. This man may be drunk, but he had been surprised once or twice in his life by a man who could play both sides of the coin under the influence of much alcohol. Still, he often felt bad about pressing others into giving him information without sharing a little of his own. Call it a trickster’s honor, but it was true.


“Aye, I did. It’s a shame he was lost. He was a good man.” Garrus watched the man’s face carefully for a sign of conflicting knowledge. His glass was nearly empty.


"Yeah, a terrible shame, we might have succeeded if he did not flee during the battle." Vincent agreed, now that his head was starting to clear up his responses became much more guarded.


Garrus looked sideways at his new companion, weighing the truth of what he just said. “Most people take him for dead. Do you mean to tell me that is not the case?”


"It's possible he's dead, but the rumors on the battlefield was that he fled. If I could escape with my life intact, then it's possible he could have as well." Vincent replied, having gotten a feeling that the young man he was talking to was not a subject of the false Queen. If he was, a fight surely would have broken out by now.


Garrus had always felt that Unger hadn’t had his life taken at Boar’s Den. It never felt...right. If this man spoke the truth, Garrus’ efforts these past years had not been in vain. He didn’t appear to have any further information on the prince’s whereabouts after the battle, however. That was something Garrus would have to figure out on his own. He still had a lead somewhere under the arena. That was his next destination. He turned to his companion once more, a more genuine smile on his face than before. Raising his glass with the last of its contents, he offered a toast.

“To the true king.”


"To the true king" Vincent replies before downing his glass. "Not that it would do me any good" he mumbled bitterly.


Garrus finished his glass as well, turning it upside down before placing it on the counter with a few coins beside it. He stood, patting his companion on the back. "Your allegiance is true, and that is good enough. You have been most helpful, friend. I hope to cross paths with you again."


"Same, I wish you luck on your travels" Vincent replies, his head had mostly cleared at this point, and was repeating the conversation they had in his head looking for any indication that the young man leaving was a servant of the Queen.


“Likewise.” Garrus replied, heading toward the door of the tavern. It was true; he would be traveling. Only at this point, he knew not where.


Hmm, that was an interesting chat thought Vincent, before he decided to rent a room at the tavern and turn in for the night. His mind was too muddled to think that night.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Kayso in the previous IC


Kayso as

Garrus​

_____​

Location: The Coliseum Antechamber, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The first hour of night (1 P.M.)

_____​

The antechamber for the tournament contestants was a place of sweat, ferocious anticipation, and poor light. Located on the south side of the arena, those waiting their turn could see through high windows those fighting on the dusty arena ground, could almost smell the blood and dirt. Garrus wrinkled his nose a bit as he entered. Archery wasn’t usually like this. It took him a moment to scan the faces of the men and women who lined the walls, some stretching their legs, some shouting taunts and others merely sitting, watching. A quarter of the antechamber was outfitted as a sparring ring, a simple chalk-drawn circle meant for practice and warm-ups. Two men stood in the center in silence, one throwing punches while the other blocked and dodged and took a few hits. That’s when he saw him.


A Kildran man of average height, dressed simply but elegantly, stood against the wall next to the sparring ring. His back was straight with his shoulders high and legs casual, but his head was bent low, his fingers drumming impatiently and even nervously. Every few seconds he checked his surroundings as if someone might come out of the framework any moment to challenge him. This man was a man of rank, or worked for someone who was. He also looked unquestionably as if he had something to hide. He was exactly what Garrus was looking for.


“Care for a little pre-game spat, my friend?” Garrus asked, sauntering over to the man against the wall. “I need to stretch these limbs and want to do them justice.”


The man stared at him, momentarily glancing around at the rest of the people in the room as if one of them had dared him to approach. Good, he was uneasy.


“And what makes you think I am up to the challenge?” the man replied, a bit gruff. His face seemed held together by deep scars and drink, as if he had a past he was not proud of. If Garrus had found the right man, he already knew that to be true.


“Do you think yourself too much of a challenge for me, friend? Or is it the other way around?”


The man scowled even more than he was before, and lifted his head so that he was looking down on Garrus. “If you insist, boy. We’ll see who is a challenge for who.” Good, he was also proud.


The two stepped into the circle on the ground, the previous occupiers making their forced exit. Garrus set his bow and arrows down on a low wooden bench along the wall, also removing his gloves. His opponent waited with patience. As soon as Garrus was within reach, however, the man wasted no time. He threw a quick jab to Garrus’ jaw, hoping to end the fight with one swing. Garrus had years of practice dodging, however, and turned his head away at the last moment. His opponent did not let up, and continued to rain down on Garrus a series of hard, calculated punches, each of which he managed to avoid, but not without being skillfully guided to the edge of the ring. Garrus would have to step up his game.


Beginning to block the man’s blows in an effort to get his hands in the fight, Garrus looked for an opening and was able to grab his opponent’s fist, catching the man off guard.


“You fight like a soldier, comrade.”


“I should hope so. I’ve spent almost a decade as one.” He began his repeated jabbing again, this time with varying degrees of speed and location. Garrus asked another question in between his strikes.


“Who did you fight for, good man? I wish to know who trained such an exquisite warrior.”


“I fight for my lord, boy, who sides with the queen. Always have, always will. Now are you going to talk like some gossiping woman all day or are you going to fight me?” He brought his leg up for a lower abdominal kick. Garrus took the man’s advice, striking the side of the now-heightened kneecap hard with his elbow. The man was brought down to one knee, though he took this chance to lunge at Garrus’ midsection, hurling him to the ground with a dull THUD. Garrus responded by lifting his lower body into the air, wrapping his legs tightly around the man’s neck. Swinging himself up and around, he pinned the man to the ground, his face pressed into the dirt.


“I didn’t come here to fight, I came here to learn. You fight for Queen Suzane, you say, and for many years no less, so you must have been in her ranks at Bore’s Den. Am I correct?”


The man lifted and hurled his body backward, slamming Garrus into the ground behind him. The wind was knocked out of him, and he released his hold on the man’s neck.


“Of course I was at Bore’s Den, fool. I lost many a comrade in that battle.” He lifted himself to his feet but was brought back down by a sweeping kick from a recovered Garrus, who fiercely pulled the man’s hands behind him, twisting them up into the middle of his back.


“Yet you survived.” Garrus hissed into his ear, his face once again in the dirt. “You watch your back as if there is a target on it, but what have you to fear?”


The soldier struggled but Garrus forced his arms up higher, twisting them, pulling his joints in the wrong direction.


“”Tell me,” Garrus continued, his voice low and labored. “A friend of mine was also on that battlefield, though I hear he walked away from it. Perhaps you saw him......one Prince Unger Kildran, otherwise known as the true king of Kildra?”


The soldier stopped struggling. His breath could be heard in heavy sheets, like rain upon stone, blood upon water. After a silent moment, his muscles tensed again and Garrus didn’t have enough time to move before the soldier’s head snapped back, slamming into his face, disjoining his nasal bone. Garrus was knocked backward, falling among thick droplets of his own blood, a stark, viscous contrast to the chalky anemia of the ground. The soldier got to his feet, as did Garrus, though with a bit more difficulty than he would have liked. He still had information to get.


“Don’t go looking for dead men.” the soldier chided, looking nervously about the room. Some bystanders had begun to take an interest in their spat, though most were far more interested in the battle that was going on outside in the arena. “You’ll find that you will soon be by his side.”


Garrus was tired of playing games. He would need to finish this quickly. A raucous cheering escalated until it penetrated the walls around them. Someone must have claimed a dramatic victory outside. “My friend, you have already given me enough to believe that you know, as well as I do, that he is not a dead man. What did you see at Bore’s Den?”


Garrus waited for him to strike, and he did. Hard. Lunging his entire body in a startlingly fluid motion, the soldier held both fists forward, aiming for his abdomen. Garrus blocked with open hands, pushing the man to his side, from which the soldier swiftly reached around, caging him in around the shoulders and holding him down while his knee joined in a loud and sickening manner with his solar plexus. Garrus coughed involuntarily and instantly felt dizzy, but quickly grabbed his opponent’s foot, using all his strength to lift and twist so that the soldier fell, again, in a dusty heap to the ground. Garrus wasted no time and placed his foot against the man’s neck, the hyoid bone directly underneath, which felt the pressure of Garrus’ heavy boot and advantageous position. He pushed a little harder. He felt something crack. The soldier cried out in pain.


“Do you feel that, friend? Just a little more pressure and you will suffocate. Tell me what I want to know and you will leave here with nothing more than a fractured collarbone.”


The soldier spat up at him. Garrus pressed harder.


“Stop!” he wheezed. “Please, stop. I saw him leave!”


Garrus loosened his hold. “I knew it.” he said to himself. New hope in his demeanor, he continued. “Where did he go? To where did you see him leave?”


“I don’t know,” he coughed. “All I know is I saw him leave. Wounded, but still alive. Though just recently, cough, I was traveling with my lord, and I swear I saw him!”


Garrus’ eyes widened. “Where?”


The men who had been watching them earlier had not come closer. They were not the kind to interfere, those who played in fisticuffs. Still, the soldier’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Lord...Lenent. My lord is marrying his daughter to the son of Lord Lenent. We were making our pleasantries when I swear it was him I saw, in his very home!”


Garrus relinquished his hold on the soldier, purpose swelling within him like a rising tide. The soldier did not rise, only breathed and watched as Garrus strode out of the room, blood on his face that could not be overshadowed by the familiar smirk that accompanied it.


When Garrus emerged from the antechamber, he squinted at the bright sunlight that was now shining scorchingly upon Kildra. Clarissa would be happy. At the thought of Clarissa, he heard a concerned female voice call out his name. It was not Clarissa, however. She ran to him.


“Lucy, my starling. What do you think of this sunshine? Quite brilliant, I would have to admit.”


Lucia pulled out a handkerchief she had been carrying in the folds of her corseted bodice, instantly putting it up to Garrus’ face in an effort to stop the flow of blood from the bridge of his nose. Blood was on her hands, even on her dress. Where other women would have kept their distance, she was not the sort who cared for trivial matters such as stained silk. Garrus was genuinely touched.


“Garrus, you senseless fool! What have you done?”


“I have secured for myself an opportunity to witness you care for me, my starling.”


“Garrus, how can you joke at a time like this? You should have it looked at by a medic.”


“Nonsense Lucy, this is a paltry affliction. I just need to set the cartilage back in its proper place…” He attempted to feel his stinging nose but it did actually hurt very much. He produced a low whistle, gingerly feeling about for the place of least discomfort. Lucia looked a little provoked, crossing her arms in impatience at his defiance.


“Lucy my dear,” he stalled. “Delatura’s interesting character was indeed interesting. We had a delightful conversation.”


“Is that who did this to you?” she asked, reprimanding albeit still managing to look a bit shaken. “Why did you go looking for him Garrus? Why do you go looking for any of them?”


“I have my reasons, Lucy dear. You should not concern yourself with them.” he continued prodding his sore muzzle. “I can take care of myself, you see.”


“I do see.” Lucia indulged. Before Garrus could see it coming, Lucia reached her hand to his face, grabbing his broken nose and, with a disturbingly loud CRACK, had set it back in its place. Garrus cried out in brief agony.


“You are like a child sometimes, Garrus.” she turned to walk away.


“Lucy!” he called after her. She turned, hesitantly. “Tell me, where do you sit this year, so that I may wave to you as I enter the arena tomorrow?”


Clarissa and Delatura appeared suddenly, apparently having been to the market stalls. Upon seeing Garrus they exclaimed happily, but their looks of excitement turned to those of confusion as they saw the remains of dried blood upon his face. They did not say anything and, as expected, kept their distance in order to keep their gowns as clean as possible.


Lucia sighed. “This year we are seated on the north end, so that our families may be near the Queen’s Box.”


Garrus stopped short, the liveliness emptying from his face, draining down his back and disappearing into the stifling air. “The queen’s box?”


“Yes, Queen Suzane is attending this year! Isn’t that exciting?” Delatura interjected.


Garrus suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The reason he had been sent away from home for treason, the reason Unger was missing, and the reason Marit was dead… the one person who had been behind all of his misery was here, in the open. And so was he.


“My dears, I’m afraid I must be on my way. Preparations to be had for the archery tournament and all of that uninteresting nonsense. I eagerly await to see your lovely faces again.” His own face was grim, and the concerned looks on the girls’ faces were evident. He turned to Lucia, who had resumed walking away.


“Lucy, my starling, I hope the rest of this day’s festivities are abundantly pleasing to you.” He bent down to kiss her hand, placing something into her palm as he did so. She was surprised, but contained herself well, not saying anything in reply. She was used to his behavior after all. Garrus walked off-not a wink, not looking back. Lucia sighed, tucked the item away and kept walking, as she heard Clarissa say in a low voice behind her,


“She doesn’t even like him; why is she the favorite?”

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Orikanyo in the previous IC


Orikanyo as
The Plucky Merchant Eliza Quinn​

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​

Location: The streets near the Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Quarter past the tenth hour of morning (10:15 A.M.)

_____​

We begin the story of the young adventurer in the city of Iorn, seeking to make a steal with some trinkets shes cobbled together from the left overs of her most recent escapade into some rather overgrown ruin. Eliza Quinn, adventurer, artifact merchant, tomb raider, and as of this very moment; heartbreaker. For she had not so much as set out her carpet, placed her trinkets and oddities for show to the general public, that she was suddenly accosted by a rather willowy yet rich looking man. With people looking on, she glared down at the man who knelt before her like a fiery haired queen of ice, unmoved by his words...


"Listen buddy, I don't know what your talking about. So you pick your ass up, stop flashing that ring and get out of my face." The woman glared towards the man who was currently upon one knee before her. How many times has this happened to her? How many times must her sisters leave her to deal with the poor bastards she has to now cause heartbreak? "Please! You must remember me! The dinner, t-the necklace! You must remember it! You said you loved it so!" the man pleaded with the woman, who seemed all the more unimpressed. "Gracia I will kill you for this..." the woman grumbled underneath her breath, trying to figure out how to kick this man to the curb.


"Please! I beg of you! You must remember my face, the time we shared together! We walked the streets, I showered you with gifts and love and you said if I came today you'd... You'd-" the man suddenly turned to sobbing, his words turning to a mess of whimpers and cries as the woman looked more and more disgruntled by the display before her. "Seriously bud, listen, the one your looking for is number twelve, my younger sister." she explained to the man, who looked up to the red haired beauty with a curious expression mixed with utter dishonorable sobbing muffling his words.


"Twelve?" he spluttered.


"Twelve, my twelfth sister, her name is gracia and she just left town this morning. Probably heading off to break another sod's heart. Leaving you in the dust and sobbing like a damn fool, grow a spine would you? Seriously, what woman would like a guy like that! Get up, get a beer and grow a pair!" she continued her uncaring glare down at the hopeless man. Gods, why did they always have to be so foolish! Falling for her little sister's petty tricks and fluttering lashes and they get left with nothing but an empty pocket and a broken heart. Guy should've cut his losses while he had the chance! Not like Gracia cared what happened to him, she just wanted more trophies for her collection of jewellery, leaving yet another incorrigible sod for Eliza to deal with... At Least this one wasn't turning violent like the last...


Last guy was a fighter, she could give him that. Not enough to stand up after some vigorous applications of her boot to his... Well, that was a story more meant for a night at a bar.


Now then, she had to chase this idiot off her area. She wouldn't be able to do business with some sobbing fool trying to propose to her every five minutes!


"Now, get lost. And don't come back or I'll have the guard on your foolish ass. And if I see you again after that you wont have anything to compensate any future marriages! Though I highly doubt you'd ever get so lucky anyways." This managed to kick the man to the curb, and get quite a few laughs from the surrounding crowd. If this benefitted her at all, it would've added a bit more publicity to her standing here in Iorn. People would talk about a feisty and utterly gorgeous merchant and SHE would reap the benefits from her sister's foolish scam artistry. Of course, it didn't mean her sister was off the hook... Little brat was going to get whats coming to her there was no doubt in that.


Gracia would pay for this.


7 minutes later


"Whew, maybe I should hire somebody to do this for me. Then again... that'd cost money." the woman wiped the slight amount of sweat from her forehead, placing the stool down behind the small box she had set up as an impromptu counter, the thing has been well used and is quite handy to keep around. She was rather surprised how much milage she got out of it for it just being a normal box. But hey, everything has worth if you use it right after all! That goes double for artifacts! Hell even her cart was a steal from way back when, sure the left wheels squeak a bit to much on rainy days but the thing was sturdier than the mule she had to pull it! With ample area for covering her merchandise and plenty of space for storage, she had more than enough to call it her portal home for the years she's been on the road.


Speaking of her Mule, the stubborn creature was currently sleeping lazily with it's long ears twitching at every single sound from the world around it. it's chocolate brown body fitted with white "socks" around each hoof and abit up the nose and mouth of the beast. Almost making it seem cute in a way, if you didn't know the utter beast that lurked within it's dull, innocent eyes.


His name is Petunia, and he was an obstinate bastard.


Roughly about 2 years old, Eliza's third mule and by far her worst in terms of personality, Petunia and Eliza have what could be called a love and hate relationship, one that involves alot of yelling and complaints as the other side simply stands there like an idiot and doesn't move the GOD DAMN CART! he'd also get angry if you didn't give him a treat after dinner, something Eliza blames herself for starting since.. well.. she herself gets cranky if she doesn't have desert. Though in truth Eliza wouldn't trade the bastard in for the world. She swears petunia is smart as all hell, on occasion enough to spot trouble long before she had done so, more then one occasion he has saved her from wolves, badgers and the occasional pervert. Nobody expects the mule to be able to take down a grown man with a sword, but if there was anything this mule was good at, it was kicking the hell out of shit.


Something Eliza shares with it naturally.


"Ah.. Finally... open for business." Eliza took up her spot atop her stool and plucked up one of the talismans within her hand, and she began to call out her wares to the public, not afraid to lather on the words and praise of her own trinkets and baubles. "Trinkets for prowess! Gain the blessing of the ancient warriors with these one of a kind talismans! Get yours before it's gone! Come on folks! only a limited supply!"

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Zooks as a collaboration with @Goaty Goat, Savagai , and
Deathchart



Zooks as

Lilly


@Goaty Goat as

Leyra, Ainu 'Wolf', Damos, and Taio


Savagai as

Rufus


Deathchart as

Uma​

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​

Location: Small Bakery on Nevarron estate, Nevos, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: A quarter past the twelfth hour of morning (12:15 P.M.)

_____​

Uma's eyes locked with the girl's. Time seemed to stop for that moment, and there was silence as the thoughts processed in their heads. Uma began to speak but his words were cut off by a chair slamming onto the ground. The girl had run up to him and began spouting out words in his native language. He hadn't heard it in so long, it almost threw him off. Luckily he remembered it rather quickly and listened to what the girl had to say. After listening intently he smiled and replied to her. "Y en slore. Era iuu lurg, iuumt uma? (I am sure. Are you hurt young one?)"


Lilly heard him speak, heard the words of her people flow from his mouth like a river and her heart which felt like it almost stopped started to thunder again. She snatched her hands out to grasp onto his shirt to tug at it before she patting at his shoulders and his arms before grasping his hands and yanking them up to her face to peer at them an odd manner. All this she did even while he spoke. She hadn't heard someone else speak that language, only herself in years. Was he a dream? She continued to pat him down, almost to convince herself he was real and not some strange illusion. Once she realized he was, indeed, real she yanked her hands back suddenly and took a step back to separate them as she bowed her head, letting her long white hair fall to completely cover her face. Acting like he were some sort of Noble as that was all she had been antiquated with really. Don't look, don't speak unnecessarily.


But it was only as she was half bowed and her gaze was focusing in at the floor boards at her feet did the words echo slightly. Are you hurt? He had asked. Are you hurt? Why would someone ask that as a question, a first question, to her of all people? Why those very words? She reached up suddenly to touch at her throat a fraction, to the jeweled choker necklace that even now rubbed her skin raw. Bracelets at her wrists covered in fine sapphire jewels and a stunning long pale blue dress. After all Rufus has changed but Lilly was still dressed in the same Royal Regalia that Lord Nevarrus always dolled her up in. Like some sort of pet. Though she would just come off as a Noblewoman to the common people. A snow-haired noblewoman. "Y En mug ymjoryab. (I am not injured.)" She said quickly, and very specifically. Answering his question but it was clear there was much more to the story then that.


The girl acted so strange. Uma understood that she hadn't seen a T'odis for years but why was she patting him. It was like he was being searched for something or checked to see if he was indeed real. Then out of no were she stopped and put her head down. She treated Uma like he was some sort of authority. Uma's smile left his face as he realized that the girl had been scarred deeper than he thought. He couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for her. I am not injured. Although her voice was that of an angel, these words stabbed at Uma's heart like a dagger from a friend. His face changed into worry as he moved towards her. Uma's arm raised up and placed itself on the girl's shoulder. I am not injured. Uma knew this wasn't true, physically or mentally. He tried to figure out what to say, to that obvious lie. "Pa dogh kmup glys ys mug groa (we both know this is not true)" Uma moved his hand to move ever the girl's hair away from her face. He looked as into her eyes as much as he could and as reassuringly as he could. "Afariglimt ys uk mup. (eveything is ok now)" Uma hoped that this would reassure the girl that he was not a threat and in fact very willing to help her.


Lilly had her gaze dropped down to the floor, peering somewhat at her feet as her head was bowed and her back hunched over to make herself as small as possible. Which was a sight to see, a T'Odis trying to make themselves as little as possible though she was still very young and had yet to really have any growth spurt. She just had the delicate feature of a T'Odis which made her sort after for all the wrong reasons. She was focused on the floor so much that when he reached out and grasped at her shoulder the girl instinctively recoiled without even meaning to. It didn't matter how much people did it in a kind gesture she had too many years of being unkind to think of the former. Her whole body twisted to the side and lowered to try and peel from the grip only his words half halted her.


Still staring to that hand on her shoulder, she watched it slowly move up to move the hair from her face so he could lean down even closer to look to her. The girl heard the language of her people, but the touch was so forward she reached up and thrust his hand away from her as her breathing started to elevate even more. Taking another step backwards and away from him. "Whaesa! Bu mug guusl na! (Please! Do not touch me!)" Her eyes refusing to look at him, just sideways to anything else within the room. Panic starting to take over though she was trying very hard to calm herself as she clung to her own arms, trying to cover her body a fraction.


Uma felt so stupid. The girl was distraught and hurt. She was scarred and broken. He should have known that she was going to react badly to touch. He just wasn't thinking about it in the moment. As the girl backed away and yelled at him, Uma felt terrible. He didn't mean to frighten her. They were strangers after all. Uma decided it would be best to introduce himself. He stood up straight and looked at the girl. Even though she wouldn't even glance at him. Uma bent over and began to bow, something that one would only do in the presence of a superior or a noble if you were serving them. "Whaesa vurtyfa ni robamass. (Please forgive my rudeness)" Uma's voice changed from concern to apologetic and more serious. He was embarrassed and the youthful curiosity had left him. He needed to act like an adult and respect who he was talking to. Uma placed a knee down onto the ground and came to kneel to the girl, giving out a grunt as his knee made contact. Age had not been the best to him. "Y naemg mu lern. (I meant no harm)" Uma said, as he faced the ground and had shame wash over him. He had only hoped the girl would forgive his behavior.


Her eyes flicked back as he stood up to his full height, instantly her chest tightening as she was convinced he would slap her, or grab her arm or.. well who knows though in the corner of her vision she noticed him starting to bend at the waist and slowly her face turned back with her eyes suddenly gone wide as he was the one to bow to her. Did he think her some Noblewoman? She glanced down to her long flowing dress, I mean, she certainly looked the part. And then to make things even more confusing for her he asked for forgiveness as he knelt. The short girl (For a T'Odis), couldn't hide the surprise over her soft face. The movement was so random, she had never in her life ever had someone kneel to her, not in Kildra, not even from her small memories of her family back home. Her mouth opened to talk but her words were broken. "Yg's Vyma... Y josg... bum'g hyka vaevha guuslymt na... (It's fine... I just... don't like people touching me...)"


Though her perception noticed the grunt as he dropped to his knee and a strange look crossed her face. It was about the most serious look the girl was capable of as she half reached forward but then tucked her hand back again. She couldn't touch his shoulder; not after she had just freaked out about him doing the same. "Iuur juymgs... era sura? Y lefa e lardeh gae gleg nei lahw. Yg ys uma ni Nuglar geotlg na gu neka, nemi nemi iaers etu. (Your joints... are sore? I have a herbal tea that may help. It is one my Mother taught me to make, many many years ago.)" A oddly soft and calm smile flooding her face as she thought about her Family before Kildra.


Rufus didn’t knew what to say to Lilly, but it was his time to do his order, “Goodday Petric, please some of your pastries and a few other of the usual.” Secretly the baker was also selling Pashush, and Rufus was one of his customers. He heard the bell ring and some new man entered the bakery. The noble didn’t look, he was looking at the baker while he picked the right pastries. However, he heard Lilly speaking, in her mother-tongue, to some other person, clearly also a user of the T’Odis language. When he turned his head to look to them he noticed the guy was certainly a T’Odis, they didn’t come here very often. Rufus didn’t really care that Lilly wanted to speak T’Odis with another T’Odis. It was good for her to talk in her mother-tongue, and that someone could speak back. He was feeling a little weird because he could hear the voice of Lilly becoming a little scared, he turned fully around now and looked at her “Are you alright?”


Uma smiled and kept his head down. He couldn't take a gift from the girl he had just caused terror. He wouldn't accept it. "Y kem mug. Y bu mug basarfa sokh kymbmass. (I can not. I do not deserve such kindness)". He began to stand up as he was shoved out of the way. Uma had been so focused on the girl that he didn't realize what was going on around him. He started to get defensive but he realized that he was standing in the middle of the entrance. It was kind of his fault. Uma moved out of the way, to allow everyone coming to the store inside.

~~~~~​

Damos, Wolf and Leyra dismounted at the bakery and saw that a few guests with horses were already there. Leyra pointed at the horse with a saddle for two. "Guess some noble is out here with his secret lover?" She asked in a mocking tone. "Wouldn't surprise me." Damos replied as he opened the door to the bakery. There was a T'Odis in the way and if there was something Damos didn't like it were big fellows standing in the way. "Scoot over big guy." He said as he shoved the man aside, not really hard, but hard enough to shove a T'Odis out of his way. He ignored the other patrons and went straight for the baker. "Wander, it has been a long time but I was hoping that you have a surplus of bread right now, I might be running a tad low on my food supplies." He said to the baker in a friendly manner, he's been here before a few times and the man just really knew how to make good pastries.


Ainu followed after Damos when he opened the door and grinned when he shoved aside a T'Odis. 'Hang on... T'Odis out here?!' He thought to himself and that's when saw the other T'Odis, a young girl who could at best be 17 years and was darn pretty, but also quite out of place out here. He moved a step closer and wanted to take another step but felt something tug his chest piece. "Don't. Scare. Her." Leyra whispered in his ear as she stopped next to him and scratched her nose with her cuffed hands. Ainu shook his head and looked at the T'Odis girl again. "Vhupar uv Pymgar, pleg iuo bu lara uun mug ym T'Odis?" ("Flower of Winter, what you do here and not in T'Odis?") He asked with a concern in slightly broken T'Odis but with a warm tone to it.


Lilly still had a rather serious look on her soft face as she heard the kneeling man say he could not and did not deserve such kindness. The tea would help ale his joints which obviously gave him slight grief, so why would he not take up this offer? Was that a thing that T'Odis did? She had been surrounded by Kildran for so long her memories of her home were slightly blurry. The girl turned as she heard Rufus's voice. "Noble Rufus, fine am I.... mm... surprised just." She tried to explain but now she had been speaking in her normal language she felt using words in Common that made her frown a fraction more to herself. As Rufus started to move closer to her with the pastries, the door seemed to ding again and her attention back. The original T'Odis she was speaking to, which she realized she hadn't even asked of his name, was shoved aside by some impatient looking Kildran man, causing him to step closer to her and away from harms way as it was.


Lilly's eyes widened a fraction as she glanced up between Rufus and the man she had been speaking to, noticing how much taller both were compared to her and starting to tense up slightly in discomfort. Then another T'Odis man followed in the door, equally as tall as the original one, and she saw him take a step closer. Her breathing was starting to still as her eyes grew slightly more panicked. It wasn't the biggest of Bakery's and what started with just Rufus and her was now starting to fill with a large number of people which panicked her at the best of times. The new man asked her a question, but she found her vision was stuck on that girl next to him with cuffed hands now scratching at her own nose. It seemed to go in one of Lilly's ears and out the other. Already tense, Lilly couldn't stop staring at the girl's cuffs, memories starting to flood back to her in a fast pace as her panic only got worse. Her chest was tightening as her breathing quickened. It never occurred to her why the girl was cuffed in broad day light, no sane person would cuff a slave in the open. Was she a slave? Why did she look so happy? Lilly finally broke her gaze from her cuffs to flow over the room again.


Too many.


There was too many in this room, she was feeling claustrophobic and was starting to hyperventilate as she trying to pull herself backwards away from them all, eventually feeling her back slam against the wall preventing her from withdrawing anymore. Unfortunately this only saw the girl starting to hyperventilate further as she clutched at her own hair, feeling she couldn't breath and growing even more dizzy.


Too many.


They blocked the doors. She couldn't run away, she had her back to the wall with no where to do. It seemed every second blink she had, the memories would return, the laughing, the snickering, the pointing, the grabbing. The pain. The searing pain. "Whaesa bum'g lorg na... mug eteym whaesa... (please don't hurt me... not again please...)".


Uma began to survey the situation. A Kildran man was talking to the shop keeper frantically about purchasing some pastries. There was another T'Odis man who had walked up to the girl and asked her a question. There was the son of the girl's owner waiting on his pastries. He then saw the girl backing up into a corner. Something had caused her to start to panic. Uma had seen this kind of thing before, it was common when a child had been scarred by something and they were reminded of the thing that had scarred them. It was the people. There were so many, and they were all larger than her by a decent margin. Uma had to do something, anything to help the girl. Talking to her or trying to comfort her directly wasn't going to be an option. He had to take care of the hulking man frightening her first. Uma stepped between the T'Odis man and the girl. The man meant no harm, and Uma knew that. Therefore Uma didn't get hostile with him. Uma looked at the man and put his one good arm up. "Sir, I don't mean to be rude but you seem to be frightening the girl. Please back up. Give her space." His voice serious and somewhat stern. Uma didn't mean to come off that way but he couldn't help it. Uma walked towards the man in hopes that he would back up a little bit and give the girl space. He didn't want to start anything. Especially in a pastry shop. But he would if he had to.


It wasn’t good, it wasn’t good at all. After Lilly said to him everything was alright, he continued paying the baker. He got his stuff and make his way towards Lilly. He saw her beginning to hyperventilate, Rufus was still putting the pastries and Pashush in his bag. The noble noticed the other man trying to take care of Lilly. The pastries were in his backpack, next to the pashush. He quickly made his way to Lilly, using his elbows to set others aside. The noble took the little girl on his arm, like a father would do with his daughter. Rufus started to walk towards the door to give her the fresh air she needed.


Ainu saw the T'Odis girl recoil when he entered, but especially when she looked at Leyra. He wanted to tell her it was okay when the other T'Odis stood up and positioned himself between Ainu and the girl. He didn't really need to hear the words to hear their meaning and intent. As the man approached him with a raised hand Ainu grabbed his wrist before he spoke. "I have no intent for violence but approach me again with raised limb and I will retaliate." He said that in a stern tone, not aggressively before letting go of the man's wrist. "Is she your dau-..." He started as he wanted to ask the man whether the girl was his daughter when the unknown Kildran grabbed her and tried to elbow his way through them. In a reflex he grabbed the Kildran by the collar and his face changed from a blank canvas to one visibly irritated. "Where do you think you're going with that girl Kildran?" He asked in an angry way. "Wolf, calm the fuck down. Leyra take that girl outside to give her some air, we'll sort this out as calm adults in here WITHOUT bloodshed." Damos said in a stern voice before continuing his bartering with the baker.


Leyra knew things could get out of hand quickly whilst she quietly looked at what transpired before her. She was thinking about how to help the girl when Damos' command boomed through her head. She took the girl from the Kildran and led her outside whilst trying to recall what little T'Odis Wolf had learned her. "Kuna. Vrasl eyr. Iuo sefa. Y lahw." ("Come. Fresh air. You save. I help.") She said calmly to the girl.


Lilly wasn't much concentrating on what the T'Odis man (who's name she had still to grab) was doing though he moved a portion away from her to try to push the others away. This made the girl take a half breath in at least to stop her passing out right then and there, easing up the suffocating pressure the whole room seem to have for her. Lilly was still grasping at the threads of both reality and her nightmares, but her blinks slowed down as she saw Rufus approach her. He offered his arm to her to grab, which she happily took, assuming his intention to leave which she desperately wanted to do.


Then things happened really quickly for the young girl.


It seemed that both the T'Odis men where talking in deep, aggressive voices that already sent her straight back on edge because the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Although having Rufus close kept her somewhat sane. He said he would protect her right? So that no one would hurt her anymore? He said that! So when one of the men suddenly grabbed Rufus by the collar effectively breaking him from her, Lilly let out a rather sudden and scared scream. Some Kildran Man at the counter was shouting now, causing her to fling her hands up to protect her ears. She felt another set of hands touching her, causing her to naturally flinch up as she turned half away from the contact.


And although this girl was smaller then the rest she was still a stranger to Lilly. A stranger now pulling here away, draped in chains. Was she being taken again? Kildran men had taken her from her homeland so many years ago, is that was this was? Where they taking her again? Lilly shook her head frantically side to side even as she tried to yank away from the girl, yes she wanted to get out of the Bakery, but what was out there? How many? How many people waiting to take her away. Lilly only just got to the entrance of the Bakery as she spotted the horses, not unlike the ones they had taken her away from the first time.


Then Lilly let out a ear-piercing scream even as she curled over holding her head.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by yoikes in the previous IC


yoikes as

Kum Liadej​

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​

Location: The streets near the Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Half past the tenth hour of the morning (10:30 A.M.)

_____​

"We have arrived, Mr. Kum," His secretary, Lon, announced, as the horse-drawn carriage carrying them come to a stop. One of their escorts opened the door from outside and stood by the door. Kum stepped out of the carriage, standing before the Golden Tree, the best and most expensive inn in Iorn. With the tournament, the inn is supposed to booked and full. But there is always a room for people like Kum.


"We didn't make it on time, didn't we? The fighting has already started." Lon nodded as an answer. "Who's fighting today? Anyone interesting?"


"Right now, a monk named Guan Ming and a mysterious fellow called Wyrm."


"Wyrm, eh? What a name. Tell me the result of their fight, will you?"


"As you wish."


"Now, can I handle you to take care of my belongings and our merchandise? Keep that red box secure, that one is our gift to Queen Suzane!" Kum paused, then continued. "I'm going for a walk, I should be back before lunchtime."


"Yes, sir." Lon nodded. "You should take Aros and Orn with you-"


"Oh, Lon, you know I can handle myself!" Kum laughed and patted the young man's shoulder, then walked into the sea of people.


This was one of the few activities that Kum enjoyed, exploring his surroundings. Iorn was packed with tourists, soldiers, fighters, young and old pickpocketer and thieves like the boy who snatched fruits from a stall. Kum stepped aside to give the boy a way to escape from the angry shopkeeper. He felt lucky that his children will not need to do such criminal doing to survive, but his wife's sister might not be so lucky.


That is, if she is even still alive.


"Trinkets for prowess! Gain the blessing of the ancient warriors with these one of a kind talismans! Get yours before it's gone! Come on folks! only a limited supply!" A red haired woman shouted loudly from a nearby stool, catching the attention of many people including Kum.


"Talismans, eh?" Kum, who traveled a lot around the world, has already meet people claiming that a certain object they sell is imbued with incredible power. From his experience, it's all mostly fake or make-believe.


"Are you telling the truth?"

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Orikanyo in the previous IC


Orikanyo
as

Eliza​

_____
​

Location: The streets near the Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Half past the tenth hour of the morning (10:30 A.M.)

_____
​

"These are genuine artifacts love, every single one. With every shard of blade and splinter of shield lies the history of a warrior. He who fought for bravery, honor and greatness! Carrying these with you as you enter the tournament, or simply sparing, shall give you the push you need!" the woman didn't skip a beat in her cheer, her endless mantra unimpeded by the man's simple question. "But remember, you must honor the ancient spirits well, they only help those who help themselves folks! Be strong! Be brave! Be cunning! Fight! Win! That shall be your future with this in hand! Don't let some fool get the better of you! Lady luck shall be on your side!" She kept the ball rolling as her hands quickly exchanged currency with roughly about 5 people, one of which with a child with his father.


The father seemed incredulous, but the boy was outright enchanted by her words.


Of course she was selling essentially what she found in the bottom of her barrel, but if anything it might help some folks. Peace of mind is peace of body right? With that said the guy was still there as she got through the five people she managed to convince, perhaps she should talk to him more before he gets all uppity that she's still selling her wares?


Seriously, it's always somebody.


Had to get all up in her face about "Is this real?" or "Are you telling the truth?" thinking she was just trying to pawn off a quick cheap piece of trash- ancient artifact or two. Sure, not all of them look to great but each one carried history within! The power of reminding one's self of the old days, to learn from the mistakes of the past, that's where the true power lies!


If people couldn't see that, well, at least they're pretty.


Also it's a pretty good conversation starter, depending on the conversation, won't be impressing any ladies here with just a talisman. unless... thats the "thing" around here, not likely since she still had stock to sell.


"So? You gona stand there and look like a gentleman or are you going to buy something?" she asked the man who seemed to be floating about for the moment.


"I do have more than these if that's what you want. I happened to pull a nice old vase in my last expedition, a little polish and it'd look quick nice. or are you worried I might say it's possessed by a warrior spirit or something." The red haired woman flashed him a cat-like grin before dragging the moderately sized vase out in the open. It showed it's years in some places by small cracks and weathering but it still showed some of it's ancient beauty through several old faded paintings upon the side. Eliza was no artist so remaking the old paintings wouldn't be her job but if polished and cleaned up it could make quite a nice piece.


"You been in town awhile?" Eliza asked the man, giving a moment to watch the people examine her goods before they walked off without buying anything. Their not for everyone really, so long as they don't get their sticky fingers upon her crap it's fine.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by yoikes in the previous IC


yoikes as

Kum​

_____
​

Location: The streets near the Coliseum, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: Half past the tenth hour of morning (10:30 A.M.)

_____
​

"I just arrived and decided to explore the city. It's very crowded, isn't it? All thanks to the tournament." Kum hovered above the red head's goods. They looked old and normal to him, exotic items with beauty and no powers. The vase that the red haired girl pulled out caught his attention, especially after what she just said.


"Oh, I will buy all of your items here if you can show proof that whatever you are saying is true. What about breaking the old vase and get the warrior spirit to appear before us?" Kum offered, a sly smile appearing on his face. This red head is smart, she'll understand what he meant and what he's trying to say by that. Kum is a nice guy, he always is. He worked with criminals and lied to people too at times, so he understood what the red head is trying to do here. Everyone's gotta find a way to earn money and eat, after all. The more he thinks, the more Kum feels bad for challenging the girl. Maybe he shouldn't, but a Liadej should not take back what they just said. Both the offer and challenge, if the red head managed to outsmart him somehow he'll buy everything including her stool, cart and mule too if she allowed him.


"As a bonus, I'll invite you for a lunch or dinner- you choose, at the Golden Tree inn." Kum added, in his mind thinking that he will have to explain to Lon that he is not cheating on his wife in anyway. "There you can tell me the story of your expeditions. About the cave you entered and the people you met, the forest you cut through and the mountain you climbed"

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by CupAndCough in the previous IC



| AloysiusAmon-Apophis|


|"You don't fear a man for his ability to kill you, but his intense abnormal desire to do so"|
|| Leader of Empty Ouroboros | Sole Master of The Wyrm's Intent | War-Poet of Anahit |l

|| Location: Iorn, Kildra. Fisticuffs Tournament Grounds ||

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|| [|"A Snake That Speaks? Beware For That One Pours Venom Not In the Blood, But The Soul." |] || The monk raised himself from the sullied ground of blood and sweat, some not even his own, as he chided Aloysius he felt a rage within himself. Something that was coaxed out by words of a snake. Of corrosive subjugation and manipulations of the mind. Aloysius's mere existence offended him, his mantras, his credence, and his overwhelming desires. As he gripped his chest--feeling the searing pain of fresh, open, wounds. Of layers of skin sinfully touching hair--sending his nerves into a writhing pain. Again, he raised himself. To be defeated here? It was not an option--for the moments he actually stayed in the lands to the west, the mainland, he felt nothing but the same disgust and rejection as he did the swarthy brigands and cavalier pirates folk of his lands of Parshum.


He did not see the aspects of them in this man, all he saw was emptiness. A chaotic mass of desire and simplistic belief that will and strife were forever intertwined. And it horrified him. No redeeming nature. No base human desires for compassion. Just will and strife. And bloodshed.


"I shan't let a whelp with such putrid belief make an example out of me! Of your sick perversions!" Aloysius raised his eyebrow as he stood still--body so tense and readied that it appears to the Monk's sight as a snake -- coiling it self to attack. With a raised eyebrow Aloysius looked curiously at the man who stood with five deep marks in his chest. Lots of question to be had, none that mattered.


"Flattered. Really, for true, I am. Confusing your struggle to keep you life against what is just nature. Confusing a simple poet with impending doom. That is what I hear from you haughty voice, Old man. Denial. Voracity. A Dying Will. Most would end you now, out of mere pity--Empathizing with your...Commendable attack. Most" Aloysius paused his theatrics for a moment, putting off his show--punctuating it with a half-cared smirk. The two men glared at each other. It would end sooner than Aloysius would have liked. He had seen them before. The outright denials of his honored and true faith. Impervious to many a simple soliloquy of rejection and intolerance. The Monk taught him many things today--none spectacular and nothing for his appetite to learn more. To broaden his palate. The two men briskly paced toward each other, The dirt crunching beneath their heels.


Many times Aloysius had put down an animal, clawing at the verge of death. Laughable. This one would be no different. He'd make it last though.....


Aloysius whipped his foot across the closing Guan--a loud thud. The kick came to a total stop as Guan his forearm to stop the vicious strike from caving his skull inward. A open palm thrust, a counter attack. The hit connected towards the chest of the Basilisk. Forcing him to stumble back. Harder than he expected. Aloysius did not regret pushing the man this far. To the brink of fearing for his life. His leg returned to a neutral state as Guan rushed the mercenary. Hoping to pound upon him with rapid strikes and bashes--but the sand devil would not have it. He began to redirect the strikes as if they where an assault by a child throwing a heated tantrum. Suddenly with a burst of zenith Aloysius cut down the middle once more. Guan reacted throwing a knee that sought to knock out Aloysius by slamming against his jaw. And in a instant--another surprise. A clutch upon the Monk's leg. Coiling arms that could break his leg--and so they did. snapping the old man's leg twisting it's form into a gnarled semblance of what it once was.


A cry of agony shot out. A mistake. "You see I will not end you here--I will make you suffer. Usher you to vile places before that closing darkness--and you will finally see the world I see. Where the will to live is a fight." Aloysius threatened, and then was soon going to be uphold. Aloysius slammed his heel onto the old man's shoulder. Dislocating it. Like the tail of a Tral-el bashing a simple animal that was too rowdy for its taste. Grinding the sadistic heel-drop into his flesh.


The monk began to kneel. Unable to stand. An entire side of his body was useless. "But to let you live after such enlightenment? Overrides any such splendor one can gain from such momentous of epiphanies." He scolded and remind the monk that his death was near. That it may not be in this field. But it will be soon. And Aloysius will have caused it, willed it, and desired it. And for those deep-seeded intents he laid bare for the old and once-spry warrior to see, it was for those reasons--those immutable facts that such a Death shall happen. Not may happen. Shall.


As the man knelt before the man with such murderous intent he spat out a blood-rich glob onto the ground in which Aloysius stood. Aloysius paused for a moment. The audience staring at the events unfolding--a word not uttered. Save for the nervous and malicious murmur. Suddenly, a thumb appeared before Aloysius's face. His own hand. Judging Guan's fate. Teetering between raised or dropped.


Aloysius scoffed as he raised his thumbs, as if approving Guan's survival.


Guan's eye mashed with enough force to send him hurling back. It was the thumb that chose Guan's fate. Exploding his light-sensitive nerve. Blood and bodily juice painting the man's thumb as he pull forth his jabbed thumb. Like ink on a brush the poet drew a single circle. One stroke. Across Guan's forehead.


"Your welcome." He left as returned to his resting area, picking up his armored and such before leaving to await the next match.


"The Basilisk has won! A brutal show of sport between these two fighters!" The announcer faded from Aloysius's thoughts as he pondered if he should had killed him there. Guan was alive. Beaten. Brutalized. Toyed with. He was alive, but not for long. However it would take long before such a thing happens. Perhaps another match? Who knows what delights may Anahit pit him against to test her champion? Enter his resting area, Aloysius watched as the tournament's lackeys dragged off the old man away. Perhaps for medical treatment.

 

[King Ad Rock]

The following was originally posted by Trickster314 in the previous IC

Trickster314 as

Vincent Florian

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Location: The Badger’s Tail tavern, Iorn, Kildra


Date: Month 6, Day 15


Time: The second hour of night (2 P.M.)

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The early afternoon sun streamed through the half-closed shutters, throwing beams of light into a dusty tavern room. On the straw mattress in the far left corner of the room, a blanket-covered form stirred. “Oww, my head.” The dark haired young man muttered to himself while cradling his head, attempting to fight off the impending hangover. Sitting up in his bed, Vincent scanned across the room making sure his possessions had not been stolen, before flinching back upon looking directly at the light.


“Ouch, my eyes!”


It seemed like he really had drunk a little too much last night, Vincent was kind of a lightweight after all. Now Vincent knew that the drinking was becoming a problem. He needed his wits about him, especially back in Kildra where he was probably wanted for being a member of Unger’s army. But, it was just so much easier to forget about it all, his desertion, following that his family’s fall from grace and his own banishment from the Florian family. Vincent’s anger had been slowing burning itself out, and the escape the bottle offered became more enticing every day.


“What happened earlier?” Vincent spoke aloud as he rose from the bed and gathered up his clothing and weapons, which were scattered around the room no doubt from when he threw them off earlier in a drunken stupor. Thinking back wasn’t there a man he spoke to while drinking…… Vincent thought.


Burras? Arrus? No… Garrus, yes that was it, Garrus. That was his name, was interested in Unger for some reason………… Shit, Shit, Shit! What did I say? Vincent thought to himself while panicking, looking around the room as if searching for assassins or bounty hunters. It was stupid to drink in such a dangerous place.


Vincent rapidly paced towards the door looking to leave Iorn as soon as possible, before stumbling due to the residual alcohol in his system. The tumble jolted Vincent out of his paranoia, calming him down and snapping him out of his own head. No, the was something wrong with Garrus, but he wasn’t a subject of the false queen. No, he would not have waited until now to strike if he was…. So what was he after? That was definitely someone to keep an eye on.


Having sorted out his thoughts, Vincent got dressed and walked downstairs into the tavern proper. Looking for the serving girl in a semi-crowded hall with other patrons who had a few more drinks than they should have had, nursing their own hangovers.


“Girl, get me a few slices of bread with sausage slices.”


“Coming!”


Chewing his breakfast, Vincent started planning his last few days in Iorn. Maybe he would take a look at the market later, and drop in to watch the fisticuffs tournament. Vincent’s father had always enjoyed the sport, and who knows what can still happen.