Yoo

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Kraex'Ju
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Yoo

Post by Kraex'Ju »

For a culture largely unmoved by the allure of magic, the wind swept sands of the Katanbi Desert casts its own spells upon the inhabitants and travelers coming and going through Cadomyr. These strange sands affect each mortal mind differently or not at all. Whether you know, or know not, grains of chaos surround you. Grains and grit in your shoes, your hair, even your undergarments. Over time, you may feel the chafe, for the unlucky or weak willed the incantation sprouts. When you feel the unquenchable thirst, the magic here roots— water nigh its requirement.

The magic here requires an opened mind, one unlatched and ungrounded. If you allow chaos to grow with worry and doubt, heed the warning and seek shelter. For when the day happens upon you and you see the hidden realm of this magical wasteland, the temptation to drink from that which does not exist will overwhelm you. Be warned! If you drink, you are doomed, and gods may only save you!


“Yoo, dear lub, look how powa’ful joo becomes. Kraex neber had worriehs, joor soft as da firnis blossum, but made like da’ desurt sky cap’. Bootiful and strong, all joor oomie and elfer lubbers hab run off, eber-time. Joo gib dem joor heart and dey can’t handul joor strongs. Joor too much woomans for dem fools!”

“Dey not like Kraex, dey can’t come and say dey lub joo but can’t be wib joo. Dey run off in da night, dey be like cats and lub joo onleeh when want. Kraex dumped all dem shiny jewls on joo, gabe joo eberting. Meh showed joo da lub and trusts. Wrote tha’ many songs bout joo.”

“Now me watches joo, protects joo from far away. Meh has learned to read and do the pen. Meh had to work on self, to write dese poems and ballads. Da’ sands gabe me peace, let me forgets da bloodlust in ma bones.”

“Meh a changed orc, all for joo lub. Soon joo see, but nub too soon. Kraex makes right all da hurts, surves joo if must! Kraex onleeh want to see happee and safes. Meh wants to lib inside joor lub. But must make sure da bloodlust be gone, it hab to be gone for-eber! Kraex must be shures.”


The old protector of the realm still has many loyal allies under his majesty’s banner. Cadomyrians never forget, the ones in discrete power know well the plight of the Great General, Sir Kraex’Ju. Of course there are whispers, disgruntled loyalists and traditionalist that would never allow an Unspoken follower, a blood orc, in their midst. At the same token, the mighty orc had single-handedly, on many occasions, staved off the long night. He’d lead Cadomyr to countless victories, proctored the Queen’s will, and no ill-deed ever tarnished his namesake.

Alas, only rumors and noble gossip made their rounds. Sir Kraex’Ju had never had to amerce any misgiving, nor did anyone ever make public claim. Still, many years ago now, he road off in the night. Some say he had a private audience with the queen before his departure. Others swore they saw him leave the guard tower by torchlight. One thing is for certain, his name and “X” signature appear on the ledger at The Harbour of Cadomyr.

What is not widely known, Kraex has returned, out of sight. Discreet men do his bidding for ample coin. He is masked in cloak and shadow, allowing him to watch and observe. He has no interest in the ongoings of man or state, these are not his concern. His single focus, purpose, is the safety and well-being of a Cadomyrian noble, Katharina Brightrim.

These are cautious times for Kraex. He does not take risks and keeps his distance. His circle is a limited business venture: one man speaks to him, this man speaks to another, and so on and so forth. Kraex’s one connection to the world is trusted beyond reproach, a single light of minimal exposure. Kraex rarely moves from hiding unless shrouded in the deep cover of night with specific intent.

If you’ve seen this shadow on the move or asked his or her name, he will not answer. His stamina, speed, and elusiveness are renowned if you’ve attempted to give chase.
[/list]

((Open RP, with strings. If you want to request being my informant, PM me or hit up Eli Travinus on Discord. If your PO Katharina, hope you don’t mind a stalker.))
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Juliana D'cheyne
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Re: Yoo

Post by Juliana D'cheyne »

An equally shadowed figure with hood covering a face not viewed by many and even then only seen partially since half is hidden by blonde hair, makes her way on the outskirts of different towns. She rarely speaks to anyone which is probably desirable since her quiet voice without any inflection can be intimidating. Hearing a rumor of a potential event, the short, thin woman carrying a bow and quiver on her shoulder with sword prominent in its sheath at her side viewed occasionally through the robe with the sway of her walk, leaves a parchment held tight to a tree by a rusty well-used dagger near the X at Cadomyr harbor on a night of the two moons.

Green orc, I have heard rumors. If you are around and wish to hire a mercenary, I will return in a fortnight to discuss price.
~j~
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Kraex'Ju
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Re: Yoo

Post by Kraex'Ju »

A courier handed Deken a small block sized package, parchment wrapped with no insignia on the crimson wax seal. He’d never received a package before and eagerly, confirmed with the young man in white robe and turban bearing the customary bird shaped brooch prominent on his shoulder.

Aye, tis yours, least your name not be Deken Olfuer?” There was agitation in the dark face and eyes of the lithe young man.

Aye, Aye, so I am, thank you!” replied Deken taking the offered package.

In his excitement, Deken lost sight of the package’s implication. Memory caught up with him, however, when he unravelled a small book and three silver coins slid into the sand.

Ne’er seen silver before, boy?” Chided the courier as Deken sunk to his knees immediately to retrieve the coins.

Deken, more upset with himself than the courier but peaked by the servant’s snide remark, couldn’t help letting his tongue fly, “Piss off won’t ya’!” Guilt wouldn’t surface until after the coins were safely back in his grasp and the courier nearly out of earshot. “Beg your pardon, sir!” He bellowed.

The courier ignored his apology or heard not as he sprinted back toward Cadomyr. Ahead of schedule, mending fishing nets, in the waning hours of day, Deken took off toward Levy’s seaside shanty. Less a shanty really, more so, the lean-to hut of sticks and palm leaves served as a place to chop and slice fish in shady peace. The owner, Levy, was a fishmonger, one of the finest in Cadomyr, and Deken’s mentor. Two-laced, as most preferred to call him, took on the novice as an apprentice only a year prior. Far and wide down the shore of The Harbour of Cadomyr regulars frequented the pile of rubble, a miraculous ten years standing and gods know how many hurricanes and storms endured.

Levy must have still been out fishing because he found the hut unmanned. The old fishmonger trusted no one, not even a chum bucket left to pilfer. Deken was more trusting in the world, his bag sat unsecured inside the small egress of the hut. Of course, the threadbare satchel, if you could even call it that, held nothing of value. Heart pounding, he tossed open the flap, shoved in the package items, and yanked the strap over shoulder. With no home of his own, nearing his tenth birthday, Deken made for his only solace, a small craggy isle along the shoreline.

Deken frequented the spot to think about his past or to be alone so he could practice his reading. The opportunity was rare; Levy worked roughly everyday. Market days, an hour or so after mass, and Cadomyr’s festive slate were his only days of respite. Well, and the days Two-laced endeavoured to sail passed two-sheets right into three the night prior. Nights that kept the accomplished fisherman down on his luck.

Anticipation led him to his hidden retreat with thoughtless haste. His mind churned with ideas, but the trained steps had him nestled between the three-spired rock formation sooner than he thought possible. Shielded from onlookers by sea and shore he sat on a personally made raft layered and covered in old palm leaves. Out came the book and coins with shaky fingers. He stared, took a deep breath, and pulled out a round medallion from a hidden sleeve concealed in his bag. Bronze casted, the oversized locket-shaped trinket had three spinning dials.

The artifact looked ancient, carvings intricate and concentric. For those with a keen eye, elven perhaps. Even for a simpleton, the apparatus was easy enough to figure out: one dial showed the month, next the day, and the outer dial the year. Turning one affected the other, and with it, the owner had a day tracker. The true magic, though, occurred when you flipped the weighted day tracker upside down and rotated the year dial backwards passed year one. In doing so, the day tracker became a decoder key, a key to a cipher.

Coins meant he had to find someone. He inspected each silver coin looking for telling marks. Cadomyrian coins, preferred, they had an obsession with imprinting each year of their sovereign rule into the currency. The mold used, a deterrent to counterfeiters but a perfect way to discreetly share numbers. One nick in the coin made it the first in the series, two the next, and so on and so forth. Confident of the order, he opened the book, People of Gobaith. Inside the cover, always a personal message, the codex. Now to set the dial. Coin one, year 46, Deken turned the decoder key trinket back over. He changed the year on the dial to 46. A number shone for the month and day, he wrote them down in the sand. With these new numbers he could read the personal passage and create another series of three numbers. In all, the work was tedious but made exposure highly unlikely. Even if you had the decoder, you would need to know how to use it; the coins, what they meant and what order; and the book by itself, a sentimental gift— nothing more.

However, in the right hands with the right tools, the process was a near failsafe method to communicate in secret. What did the cipher reveal you might ask? Well it's no joy to read and work it all out one by one is it? A spoonfed approach, then.

Borgate Hemp Necktie

Not enough by itself, aye? Then to the back of the book Deken went, nail along the final page binding, as the page peels back Deken finds another set of numbers. Back to the decoder and through the book he searches and builds the message.

Ask for a scout

His finger drawn message in the sand seemed straightforward. Deken learned a long time ago not to question Sir Kraex’Ju and wasted no time starting the errand. His foot cleared the message in the sand, the silver went into his pocket, the book into the ocean, and the decoder positioned back into a date tracker and safely concealed back in his bag.

The coins would make travel a breeze by way of the teleporter, of which he’d never used. Kraex had warned him, he would return to Illarion when the time suited him. After a year, Deken thought perhaps the day would never be upon him, but he was ready and off he went to talk to Borgate, a dwarf barkeep from the afamed isle of Gobaith— according to the book.

A day or two later he found “J’s” note, got Two-laced well drunk on rum, and headed to Runewick to find a suitable book to encode a new message to his master.

Meet one fortnight
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Juliana D'cheyne
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Re: Yoo

Post by Juliana D'cheyne »

Hur hair ub sun, her heart of steel, she roams, she slays, she makes grown men change thur

ways.

On deadly steps I fink she rides, but a stalker truly, truly lays inside.



The mercenary ran after getting her assignment and enough gems to last a year though she showed nothing of her surprise in her stoic expression. She didn't think Kraex would hit her with his poem, song or whatever.. something quite embarrassing. Had he planned that? Unable to stop her grin and a brief chuckle, she manages to drop the latent gems in the depot and pack quickly before the orc came down the ladder and seeing her would start again. Moving off to her favorite spot keeping company with a skeleton, Juliana contemplates the next move while planning her strategy. How to be a bodyguard to someone that doesn't know she is being guarded? Well, Juliana assumed Kraex wished it done in shadows, after all that is her specialty. This Countess may glimpse a brief movement near a building out of the corner of her eye, hear the swish of a robe but is unable to place where, or see a flash of a stray strand of blonde hair if the sun is bright, however shouldn't know she is being guarded. In the mean time, Juliana will make a report to tell Kraex of this Katharina's activities. A true stalker, he is right but also a body guard. Still unclear how long this job lasted, Juliana packs for a long trip to Cadomyr, planning her best hiding places when there.
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Kraex'Ju
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Re: Yoo

Post by Kraex'Ju »

The secret messages had passed back and forth between Deken and Kraex. Deken had spoken with Borgate, told him the orc wanted a meeting with the blonde rogue, and a ship was chartered for Kraex’s return. With the blood of the Unspoken and unholy rite, divine forces had taken an orcish whelp and imbued him with the veracity, strength, and power to rival any blood orc warchief. His prowess was then singularly focused on Cadomyr’s enemies. Kraex had soaked the earth in mortal blood, hide in plain sight, and honored the Lord of Blood and Bone. That is until balancing forces of chance happened upon him. Dare we say love, respect? Axioms at direct odds cannot coexist in mortal shell. Men and orc minds are lost to far less. This was a matter of the soul. Kraex would be mastered by love or enslaved to hate. Back and forth the pendulum swung.

A near-death experience, for the here and now, tipped the scales toward love or a hollow twisted vestige from an age-old feeling. Katharina Brightrim, the newly ascended countess of Cadomyr, long before her surname was Brightrim— Thorstar at the time, showed him a side of humanity he thought impossible. A woman, had shown affection toward an orc. Over time, strange feelings grew within Kraex, ones he could not put into words or understand. He tried to tell Kat, as many close friends called her, as best he knew how. To him the words came out all wrong and he was worried the other side of himself would put her in harm’s way. His blood rage could lead to onslaughts and brutality unbecoming a knight or any sane person for that matter. Before he ever had to make a real choice of his own, his hand was forced. Death’s attempt in the most unlikely of places struck at him, in the form of a scorpion.

He’d made camp, near the temple of his Father like he’d done a thousand times. In the breaking hours of night, a stinger struck him on the ankle. For whatever reason, Kraex had not secured the camp area or closed his tent flap properly, and in came the tiny killer. He’d slayed dragons, chipped mountain golems to stone by stone bits, but it was a little insect that almost killed the former General of the Queen’s army.

Death would’ve been all but assured, having no travel books, medico pack, or necessary herbs. His only saving grace, a novicely concocted potion of antivenom, side effects only marginally better than death. Worse than eating shrooms off cow dung, Kraex saw the world in a wholly different light. Seas of blood surged across the desert, eyes replacing the stars watched over him, wails and shrieks spurred his flight back toward Cadomyr. When that vision died in blackness, he opened his eyes to the vast expanse of sand, nothing for a hundred leagues in all directions. Far off in the painted distance, mountains or sand dunes never drew closure. He heard familiar voices when he would turn left ghosts of his orcish war clan beaconed for him. Kraex would run toward them, try so hard to keep his eyes open in the blaring sun, but each time he had to blink they vanished.

If he looked right, he saw companions of the Crimson Order: Tyan, Salathe, S’rrt, Annabeth, and Guy. Like his childhood clan, he tried to run after them too, but their way was mired in quicksand. Down he went, then blackness, then back in the middle of the desert-like nothing happened. Behind him was the worst of all. Over shoulder were all his fallen foes. They all stunk of rot and decay, some liches, others more freshly dead. A raging storm of faces, hungry for the chase. Escaping them was constant, once he was swallowed by them and fought for what felt like days. In the same way, the quicksands worked, he would eventually be consumed and feel the shredding dismemberment and searing gashes. Again, he would resurface, either dunes or mountains before him and the same choices awaited him: ahead, left, right, and behind.

Death whispered in his ear, “Choose none, stop, welcome me.”

His pride be damned, he caved but it was not death that awaited him. Instead, he awoke and saw her, shining in brilliant glory of a lioness’ armor. Polished steel radiated swathed in the colors of the Desert Fox. Her armor had been formed and shaped into a lioness’ heads on her pauldrons, her open-faced helm the beast’s roaring mouth. Katharina reached her gauntlet covered hand toward him, but when Kraex reached to take hold she pulled back and pointed to the distance. A palm tree stood erect, surrounded by green lush reedy grass.

Without thought, the orc crawled passed Katharina. Charging like a wild boar he fell into the reed and found salvation. A pool received his face and he lapped, and lapped, and lapped his fill. When the orc could not drink another single drop he whirled to look for Katharina. She smiled, a beam purer than the armor she bore.

“Come back to me Kraex.”

Blackness again, this time a listless slumber. He would awake to a familiar face, nameless, but familiar. Skin turned hide, flesh dark as molasses, the slave master stared at him with folded arms. The melted, droopy, features of his stern face looked harsher than ever.

“You gave me slaves, you made no moves to stop my business ventures, thus you live. The cost to revive you, however, will not go unrepaid.”

Kraex growled and bore tusks, the bastard had chained him.

“For my safety of course! You were insane with fever and drought! I will unchain you but the debt will be paid.”

Kraex thought quickly, he detested slavers, being enslaved once himself. He wanted to expunge the land of slavery at one time, but it was never the Queen’s ultimate will. Then, service to the Father comes with no limits to personal sacrifice and preference. When the bloodlust made demand you heeded or dire consequences ensued. The slave market became a place to make people disappear and suffer their entire mortal life. Labor for unspeakable deeds another common practice. Kraex had enough problems and enemies, he was just thankful to be alive and with that he agreed to smuggle slaves into Albar to pay his debt.

During this hiatus, he only thought of Katharina. Now, here was easing back into Illarion. He would get the lay of the land, make sure Katharina was safe on all fronts and rejoin her once possible.
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Juliana D'cheyne
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Re: Yoo

Post by Juliana D'cheyne »

As per her agreement, the mercenary attempted to follow the target most places.. some times not arriving in time, some attempting to listen yet unable to hear any words. All she reported to the orc yet he seemed different to her now. Had he changed, or was it simply she hadn't known him as well before? Coming to the opinion the orc wasn't sane took a long time yet he had definite problems even for an orc. She was confident of her fighting ability not to be concerned for her safely, yet Juliana stayed longer attempting to talk him out of his errand. Chuckling to herself.. that was definitely not what she usually did, however he refused to take back any of the latent payments offered. Watching him finally roam away from her, Juliana for the first time in many years was confused on her next step. Should she continue or not? Perhaps another meeting with Kraex would answer more questions.. would this unnamed person that passed messages know something?

In the mean time, she continued to follow the target yet not as close, more from a distance.
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Juliana D'cheyne
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Re: Yoo

Post by Juliana D'cheyne »

As Mas was soon to arrive, Juliana decided her assignment was over not having heard more from the crazy orc nor his messenger in quite a long time. Following an old trail out of habit, she moved quickly as her cloak flew behind while she glanced at the two moons ready to rise in the distance knowing time was short. Enjoying her bounty of the extra latent gems the mercenary wondered if she should simply retire rather then take another job. Finally in a safe place, she watched the events unfold while cleaning her sword and taking inventory of what she had stored. It felt good being alone... now if only she could stop the dreams.
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Kraex'Ju
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Re: Yoo

Post by Kraex'Ju »

"Joo talk a lot like Annabeth, now..." Kraex spoke his wayward thought aloud.
Katharina would reply, "Thank you."

Countess Annabeth had been a hero to the realm, to anyone outside the inner circle of the Crimson Order or the founders of the Desert Fox the remark would have been purely a compliment. To Kraex, however, it came out as a revelation. Comparing her to Countess Annabeth was the only thanks he received that night, but risking his life, protecting her, protecting the innocents of the realm- ignored. Kraex didn't need much, a smile, a degree of heartfelt acknowledgement. Instead, Kat offered him cold, stately, discourse. He hadn't thought about Annabeth in over a decade, but the parallels could not be ignored by the orc. Sure there were times Annabeth showed a softer side, but it was rarer than rains in the Kantabi. Even when Kat still lived in Runewick as a rival to Cadomyr, she showed more warmth and gentleness in a single night than Annabeth had in years. He could have learned to adapt, understood the burden of being a noble who was only outranked by Her Majesty. No the straw that broke the orc's back was the request not call her 'Kat' any longer, but Katharina. Calling her Kat was a rather personal name she'd said.

In the here and now, their history meant nothing. He was merely another tool and agent of the elite. No magic wand in Illarion had enough power to wave away the pain and emptiness in Kraex's heart. People and their motivations change, he knew that all too well, but close friends give you freedom to be yourself. He would pray that the part of Kat he knew still existed and for the patience to see it once more. As it were, he'd put too much hope in their first meeting, and the let down humiliated him. The former general of Cadomyr pushed back tears, managed to remit himself and retreated to the frigid desert.

He wouldn't call on the mercenary again- for her current task- he needed time to think on his own. His prayers to Sinari had struck a cord with him, a perfect tune of serenity before he saw Kat during Mas, but the aftermath did not come with the effect he desired. He did not, necessarily, want to be Kat's lover. She was married, after all. He wanted her to be happy, safe, and prosperous. By the looks she might have had all three but if she was happy, it was a different kind of happiness, one foreign to him. It was not the same kind of happiness that turned a blood orc from his Father. It was not the kind of tenderness that made Kraex think differently about the world and people. The meekness was gone, or at least for him for now.

He promised himself to be patient and asked Sirani to help him do the same. He prayed for guidance and understanding from his new patron goddess and protection from his abandoned Father. He didn't want to be anyone's tool, a simple sword to be aimed at an enemy. He'd chosen to become a bard for a reason, but would his resolve outlast honor and tradition?

Would the vestiges of love from an old friend, the one who saved him from a road of pitiless darkness, be used against him to serve the means of ambition and duty? Questions upon questions, upon questions.

And so, the orc took quill to parchment and fingers upon a new lute to sooth his musings.
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Katharina Brightrim
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Re: Yoo

Post by Katharina Brightrim »

Mas had been taxing, she could not deny that. Now, a few days after Mas, all she wanted to do was to recover from the month of terror. The news about Deanna's death, the upcoming invasion from yet another army and her own aching throat were too much to just shake it off within a few days. Sitting at the cauldrons, close to Amanda, who resumed working on potions for Cadomyr's defense and on salves against sore throats, she felt a certain comfort. So after she heard Kraex shouting her name, she walked over to invite him over to the cauldrons, she sat back down next to Amanda, leaning back in her chair. It was a good feeling to sit and an even better feeling to be certain of the closeness.

She introduced them to each other and noticed a bemused look on Kraex' face. She was confused for a moment, six-ish years ago she had told him about Amanda. "I don't want to fight anymore Kat.". Hearing her short name used by Kraex shook her off her thoughts. She frowned and fought a moment over saying it, but then she blurted out "I do not want to sound rude.. but I would prefer 'Katharina'. It's.. a rather personal name." The orc froze and she could see his consternation. A small part of her felt bad for it, but mostly, she knew that she meant it. It was not just the fact that 20-ish years had passed between their brief relationship and this day. Nor was it the fact that he, with his whole protective behavior, reminded her a lot of Caine. After all, she was not some fragile, weak woman who would break at the faintest gust of wind. No, her annoyance was a mix between the exhaustion of Mas and the fact, that a man who had been close to her 20 years ago, came back and acted as if nothing happened. As if untended bonds kept flourishing, even if abandoned.

"Joo talk a lot like Annabeth, now.", he said and she felt pride. Countess Annabeth had been the first noble in the new noble court all these years ago and despite not being too close to her in her lifetime, Katharina always respected her as a strong and determined woman. In fact, when it came to her role as town official, the late Countess served as a role-model for the current Countess. "Thank you", she replied. Kraex acted weird ever since she asked him not to call her 'Kat', but now he bowed to her and addressed her as 'Countess', before he left.

While labeling her potions, Amanda looked over to her, "He was the one you had that fling with, right? How many years ago?". A grin found its way onto Katharina's lips, "Something around twenty years, I think." Following up with another question, the red-haired woman asked casually, "It was only a kiss?". The question made Katharina ponder a moment. Did they even kiss back then? She knew that it had been a very brief relationship, hardly longer than a few weeks. She frowned, "Yes, we only kissed.", she replied, not entirely sure whether they even reached that stage of a relationship. Then she shook her head, "Even if I weren't overly happily married, I wouldn't take any of them back..."
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