(( Open RP for all involved players, feel free to post ))
Sitting in her room, Borgate gave her for free, she started to ponder what to do now.
She failed, the first time in her long life she had failed.
But this was not her biggest concern. Failure was just the other side of success, she did accept this fact.
She feared deeply in her heart for Riniao.
Lets think about again what I felt she murmurs to herself
The event unfolds in her mind as it would just happen.
With Countess Katharina and the honorable Knight Kraex'Ju as witness, it was already a hard task to persuade Riniao to lie down and let start her work.
The feelings at this very moment starting to wash over her again.
First it was a subtle little disturbance in his soul, in his feelings. Digging deeper, with Ushara's help, there was a clear unnatural manipulation to observe.
Magic ? A Curse ? A Spell ?
Whatever it was, someone had used great effort to twist this man's heart and mind.
Riniao's mistrust and twisted mind broke out, he called her a liar, but she never felt that she would be in danger. Even if he was in rage.
All three could calm him down a bit for continue the procedure.
She did pray to her goddess for guidance as she always did in those moments.
Always she could find the source, the soul point and remove it afterwards.
But this time it was different, very different.
She felt again the twist, but the traces are deep and barely to follow. Someone did it with great effort and skill.
The effect runs so deep in this mans heart, soul and thoughts that she felt it like a stony black wall.
Not even with her greatest efforts she could losen the grip or even remove it from Riniao.
She had to let it go or she would have killed herself in the process. With tears streaming down her cheeks she did tell the others and Riniao that she just failed, not able to do anything for the moment.
Riniao was out of his mind, yelling and raging against all and everything, casting the three out of his house.
But maybe a very peaceful place, like Usharas shrine, and some more preparations ...
She got one lead from the Knight, though. The Mage Hunters from Gynk.
I need to contact this Man, Tyan Masines, the Knight told me. He can maybe find out something about this strange guild. Every Information can help.
And I need some potions for calming down the rage in Riniao first
she told herself quietly.
A failure isn't the end, its a challenge.
Last edited by Yridia Anar on Thu Apr 16, 2020 7:40 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Studying her books about a potion was a waste of time.
She closed the books as the Elfess approached her who was seeking help.
After going upstairs and closing the door she was surprised about the terrible tended wound from Kyre. Runewick isn't in the best shape she thought for herself.
Making a paste for Kyre and using her healing hands afterwards she hoped all would be as simple as that.
Tyan Masines wasn't showing up so far and her hopes dwindled by the hours to get her hands on some informations about the Gynkesh Mage Hunters.
Lets brew some Tea, hopefully it is enough to cool his rage for the ritual
The druid surprised the witch in the warmth of her smile and easy manner. Walking towards her at the HempTie, Kyre felt the pull of the arrow wound yet the pain was becoming her new normal mixed with the movements of her body, making her wonder if it will ever disappear completely. Kyre didn't ever mention to Caswir, Aly nor anyone in her guild how much pain it still caused and made an effort not to grimace at any chuckle much less avoid a laugh at all cost. Once they climbed the ladder to the medicine room and the door was closed, the witch began to unbuckle her armor thus exposing the rather large open wound just below and to the right of her right breast which was no longer bleeding due to her magic yet unable to completely close either. Dark eyes watching the druid as she leaned close then slightly frowned..
No medic saw this?
Kyre shook her head with a sigh..
Aswe went up north.
Then voiced her main concern..
Will it scar?
It is too late to sew it up..
It seemed like a death sentence on top of all the other disappointments knowing her bondmate wouldn't like the scar. Watching Yridia mix the paste then put it on the open wound had her raise a brow in surprise at the warmth and instant relief of the constant pain felt. Did the wound get a little smaller? She eagerly took the rest of the jar given yet was disappointed the druid refused payment promising her any hex she wished free of charge. Tempted to talk more with her of all the other problems making her so sad, Kyre settled for a warm smile instead deciding not to be a burden and left with a wave of her metal hand. Leaving a beautiful heart herb at the bottom of the ladder for Yridia to find later, the witch started her journey.
The orc of forty years did not know a lot about druids, having only met one in passing by the name of Merung- back when Runewick’s towers still rose amidst the clouds. Since learning how to read, however, the lore; legends; and tales of the druid fascinated the knight of Cadomyr. Knowledge was, indeed, power; the power to dizzle thoughts and dreams for hours. No wonder mages and the like spoke at nauseam. One story or thesis of a druid could lead to a thousand deeper questions. Questions that could boggle the mind, ponder the strength of your devotion, or spur deeper meaning. Soldiers looked for the simplest outcome, willed them into existence. If you failed, pain or death would correct your mistakes. Adapt and react were the only truly guiding tenets of combat; books, though, were endless portals or one mirror descending into another.
Where did truth lie and how much was simply conjecture? Were druids really the embodiment of Ushara’s spirit? These were all idle questions while Kraex enjoyed his new found hobby of reading. He had a hard time retaining all the details, but when Riniao didn’t immediately scorn or dismiss the thought of seeing a druid, a bizarre path of inevitability transpired soon thereafter.
Nearly twenty years had passed since Kraex last saw Merung, now he stood in the doorway of the Unicorn Lion tavern lost for words. Mere weeks after Riniao openly confessed hunting mages lest they turn from their path of wickedness but not holding the same contempt for druids, Kraex had walked into the Hemp Necktie Inn. He was not alone, the back of a slender feminine figure with pointy ears- long reaching blonde hair over a muted dress- stood before the depot he preferred. He walked to the other chest opposite the room and deposited forgettable wares. Fresh from battle the call for ale summoned his thirst.
The knight’s work was done for the day. He ordered a stiff ale from Borgate and had a seat to rest in peace. He thought nothing of the elven stranger, a stark divergence from decades earlier, when he thought of nothing but slaying elves and humans alike. Cadomyr had taught him honor, bred the inner security and silent confidence lacking in most his kin. If trouble comes, then you fight it; seeking it only hastens your demise. One sip into his ale and she was approaching him, the way ladies do. His astute awareness and sharp yellow eyes missed nothing, he’d developed an appreciation for elven and human females.
She moved with subtle ease, a perceptible calmness- one could mistake it for being shy but there was more to her. The elfess had a quiet confidence, a feeling in the air to soothe pensive tensions. Her words came sweetly, further affirming her inviting persona. The knight had problems on his mind and somehow he knew she’d serve better than ale to unburden himself.
Like tumbling weeds in the desert their conversation moved rapidly. She was a druid, he had a problem akin to her skills, she was amicable to assist, and then he was saying his farewell drunk in his mind with the serendipitous interlude. Call it fate, call it what you will, the druid named Yridia held to her word. In the days that followed their first meeting, Kraex was able to introduce her to the Countess of Cadomyr, Katharina. Her affect on the countess must have been similar for in short order, they were all attempting to aid Riniao.
Although the work did not go as hoped, the knight was not discouraged in the least. From the doorway of the tavern he watched Yridia leave discouraged. He’d done all he could to stay her mind with budding attempts at friendship and giving her a lead for her research. Tyan knew Gynk well, if there was anyone in Illarion that could help it would be him.
'I will have to consult with them first', the elf said.
Tyan, in his armor which was showing signs of having received blasts from magic wands, was wandering off towards a Runewickian bridge. 'Of course.'
'But if it is their will I shall', the elf added.
'I'll take the blame and get arrested until you do', Tyan said with a grin on his lips while he was already walking.
'Ehm...', he heard the elf hum.
'I'm joking', Tyan responded, now almost being out of range.
'You made that sound as if...ah good.'
Tyan found his way back towards the teleporter over the many bridges of Runewick. It was a beautiful town, nature perfectly blended into the largest harbor of Illarion, a place that would invite trade of all kinds. Closer to the teleporter however, there was a dark column and amongst it, portals supposedly leading strait to the nine hells. The mind of any sentient being was created for adapting to threats neutrally and thus, Tyan was not immediately afraid of said column, although it probably was the greatest threat he had ever perceived. He had been there the night when Jefferson and his accomplices started summoning the columns, although Tyan was certain it had not been their work alone. He remembered that night well. It was the night he almost died.
Idly, Tyan moved a hand to the right side of his torso, just above the liver. It was the place of a nasty scar, the place Jefferson's spear had pierced him that fateful night. Tyan still remembered: Had the thrust been a few inches further south, it would have pierced his liver and he would have died that night. It was all forgotten and it didn't matter now. 'Water under the bridge', he said out loud.
the day before now
'Water under the bridge', the orc said. Tyan had never heard of this proverb in the new language before, but he liked it. I'll remember that one, he thought.
In Tyan's eyes, the decision the orc had taken was a grand one. But he also knew about the consequences. The orc was still looking for answers and so was Tyan. Some might interpret this as a lack of decisiveness, but as far as Tyan was concerned, those people could go home: trust those who seek the truth, not those who claim they have found it, he thought. And as far as truth was concerned, Riniao was a special case. A very special case.
While Tyan was pondering whether he should stick around in these lands at all, the orc had brought him together with a druid. She had approached him with a request, or as Tyan would put it, a lead. Perhaps it was all connected as Avaroth claimed and perhaps it was not. Nonetheless, Tyan wanted to play his part now that he was here. He decided to diverge from his initial plan, but then again he already had long ago.
He had talked to Eraisuithiel, to Kraex, to Sirrt, to Jefferson and suddenly, saying water under the bridge and feelingwater under the bridge were two different things.
now
Going back to Gynka was a necessity. He had been sent back to Illarion to collect some magic shards, but as far as his accomplices in Gynka were concerned, Tyan was late. He inhaled.
'Oh well, kind of a habit now.'
Then, he began to write a letter.
Myra,
I am returning later than I had intended and then again – sooner as I had intended.
I will be on my way soon, but I need you to take care of something before I arrive. There is a certain group I will be looking for, [...]
Last edited by Tyan Masines on Sun Apr 19, 2020 12:35 am, edited 1 time in total.
Gathering herbs she is wandering around with her sickle, gathering not only herbs but also her thoughts.
Finally she had a bit of hope to get informations about this mysterious mage hunter group from Gynk. Tyan Masines was willing to help with the investigation.
It wasn't even necessary to convince or pay him, because he was already about to leave Illarion for a while towards Gynkeesh.
Some days ago she did met with great joy her old friend and mentor Lennier. Her heart was filled with respect and love for this halfling.
He did teach her a lot, his work was still the backbone of her knowledge and though, since there so much had changed.
Frowning as she nearly hit her fingers with the sharp sickle, she decided to take a break and sit down in the grass.
Now she was not only a druid, she was also a priestess of Ushara. To be a priestess was not only a blessing it was a duty, a daily challenge.
All people who did seek help are welcome and sometimes the burden seemed a bit too much for her frail shoulders.
At the reunion with Lennier she did met another old friend, the dwarf Sammy Goldlieb.
Sammy asked her to help him with some memory problems, just about to forget what he asked her a while later.
I think my friend you drinking a lot of alcohol lately. I fear the solution for you will be stay away from beer and the like in future. But first I have to examine you closer my old friend
she murmurs to herself before raising in a fluid move to her feets and starting to look further for herbs.
The relevant parts for possible ig progression are set in the recent timeline, specifically anything unfolding in the year 60. The 'past' parts are meant for character development mainly and thus optional, but will be strongly referenced in current events.
3rd Ronas 20, somewhere in Gynka’s swampy harbor district
One eye wide open and one eye half closed, the cow stared at them. Its mouth was half open and a giant tongue was hanging out of it, black and blue from congealed blood.
‘Is it dead?’, Myra asked. She straightened her little dress which at some point must have been white. It was the one dress she adored most, because they told her that it was her mother who left it for her before she went away. It was not white anymore and spotted with dirt and other discolorations, but Myra still loved it nonetheless. More than anything in the world.
‘Of course it’s dead, you stupid girl!’, Darron said and poked the wide open eye of the cow corpse with a stick. It popped and black and yellow mucus came flowing out of it. Dar-ron got a little sick as well now, but he’d never admit to that. He was the only boy in the orphanage whose voice was already breaking, so he had to be the most fearless as well. And the leader. ‘Ewww!’, Myra screamed and turned away.
‘What’s that racket? What’s this about?’, the kids heard a booming voice. A tall man with a pig nose and foul teeth came towards them. He was holding a crude wooden club in his hand, the ‘Chastiser’ he called it. ‘Oi, you! Watcha doin’?’
‘N-nothing sir! Just playing!’, Darron said in a voice as deep as he could.
‘Looks to me like yer defilin’ corpses, that’s against the LAW!’, the ugly man’s voice boomed. It was Callus, a former farmhand who had found his calling in being a bellman at some point. Rumor had it that he was the bastard of a traveling nobleman from Albar and a common Gynkeese whore and the nobleman wanted to get rid of the unwanted son without attracting too much attention. He figured that if Callus was not condemned to pick turnips but worked in the streets of Gynka at night he’d get mauled by a thug at some point and be silenced forever. Turns out, Callus was good at mauling thugs himself. And he had become a staunch protector of the law, as far as he could comprehend it himself.
The law of course was the will of local gang or mercenary lords, in the case of the harbor district, the Thieves Guild. Most of the warehouses were theirs. All the armed men in the area were theirs. The orphanage the children came from was theirs.
‘Callus, we was just trying to see if the cow was dead! We would have called you then, so you can clean it up!’, Tyan interjected. He was smaller than the other boys his age and especially so when compared to Darron, so he always let him speak up first. But everyone knew Tyan and bellman Callus shared a similar background story – both being the son of some traveling man and a whore; a merchant in Tyan’s case – so for what it was worth, they usually got along a little better.
Callus narrowed his eyes and glared at Tyan. ‘Is that sooo?’ Callus’s fore-head was wrinkled now and it was clear to see that he was thinking hard whether to trust what the kid had told him. ‘I guess it makes sense, I guess’, he finally concluded. ‘Alright! Run away now kids, play somewhere else! I gots a carcass to move!’
‘Thank you Callus Sir, very ge-ne-rous of you’, Tyan shouted as the kids ran off. He stressed one word especially, one he had recently learned. Tyan had always been proud of learning new words. Once they were around the corner of the next building, Darron slapped Tyan across the back of his head.
‘I was handlin’ it!’, he shouted.
‘I was just helpin!’, Tyan responded while rubbing his neck.
‘Poor cow’, Myra murmured, trotting behind the boys and straightening her dress. ‘I hope she’ll get a proper burial.’
Darron laughted. ‘Not likely! Callus will just dump it in the next swampy river that he can find!’
The sun was slowly setting over the city and bathed the swampy mess that was called Gynka, the largest city of the Freefolk, in a warm orange light. It was almost looking pretty now.
10th Irmas 60, an over-average maintained building in Gynka’s East Trade Quarter
‘What the HELLS is he up to now?!’, Joron was upset and placed his hands on the large oak table a woman in fine leather armor was sitting behind. The table looked completely out of place in the otherwise crude room with wooden walls, a common way to build in the city. The swamps and the usual humid weather made any wood smell musty, mouldy, or stale; descriptions would vary depending on who you asked. However, nobody would say it was a particularly bad smell. It was the same smell one would encounter while traveling on a merchant ship. In a way, the whole city smelled like the bowels of the numerous merchant ships coming and going here every day.
The woman leaned back in a comfortable armchair behind the desk with both her dark leather boots on the table.
‘It is a simple enough request’, she responded flatly.
‘Yes, yes, it is. But he went there to bring home some glyphs. Now he does not even mention bringing any, but instead wants us to investigate some cult!’
The woman lifted her shoulders ever so slightly, still looking at the letter.
‘Myra, you told him to stick to the /plan/.’
‘It’s Tyan, what did you expect. He simply cannot keep his nose out of other people's business. And he has history with that place.’
‘He said he’d go over there to have a drink, meet some people and bring home the wonders of that land.’
‘In a way he does’, Myra grinned.
Joron threw his arms in the air. At the same moment, the rough wooden door to their room was flung open and a hooded figure entered. ‘Scuse me Lady Myra, but there’s a crowd of angry seamen gathering at the warehouse…’
Myra heaved her feet off the table and looked at the hooded figure, then quickly back at Joron. ‘Another bogus strike, prelude to the Unkempt’s attack on our assets, no doubt’, she said. The Unkempt were part of the Thieves Guild just as Myra and Joron were, but a rivalling gang. They owed their name to their first leader who was long dead and usually kept their attire clean these days.
‘No doubt’, Joron confirmed.
Myra got up from behind her desk and nimbly moved around it, towards the door. The hooded figure already knew he was dismissed and left. ‘Deal with Tyan's stuff’, Myra told Joron.
‘But… he’s your friend.’
Myra smiled, placed her hands on Joron’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. ‘Deal with it’, she repeated herself. It was known throughout the Eastern District that Lady Myra hated to repeat herself.
‘Fine. I will.’
‘Good man’, she said and gave him a pat on the shoulder. ‘Oh and get something done before he arrives here. I don’t want him to pester me with this too much. And we might need him for other things.’
Once the room was empty, Joron, son of Callus the bellman, picked up the letter from Myra’s desk. It was written in dark blue ink and in a fine hand, although there was a wine stain on the bottom right of the paper.
Myra,
I am returning later than I had intended and then again – sooner as I had intended.
I will be on my way soon, but I need you to take care of something before I arrive. There is a certain group I will be looking for, Mage Hunters based in Gynka and possibly beyond. I need you to find out anything you can. Have some of the brighter kids listen in on conversations on the street, perhaps. Try to hire those hunters into service. You will figure it out.
If you need motivation, I believe this can help us in the long run. But I know you do not. Just do this for me, please? See you soon.
T
Joron shook his head and walked towards the window. ‘Gods, I hate Tyan’, he said to himself. Down in the street, Myra was just leaving the building. She was lifting one finger and made a circular motion with it, which prompted many men to pick up their clubs and follow her. Joron would have wanted to help her deal with the Unkempt, but he had his orders. And when it came to Myra, you'd better followed your orders as dutifully as an Albarian knight would, or soon the sewer rats would nibble away on your corpse.
Still patiently waiting for news from Gynk she sits at her favorite spot near the Hemp Necktie.
In her lap you could see a bloodsmeared note, nearly unreadable.
With a heavy sigh she stares at the blue sky, shaking with a delicate move her golden hair.
Oh Sammy, my friend. Even if the note is hard to read, I see only poison, poison and again poison. All of them dangereous and even rare. If you worked such a long time
with this it is no wonder that you have serious issues with your health and mind, and especially with your memories. Hopefully you do what I asked you, get an anti-dote, a real strong one.
I pray to Ushara that it isn't to late to reverse the damage. Especially the blood of this "Jeff" I don't know is evil by the touch. I still can feel it linger over this note.
22nd Olos 20, Small Wonders orphanage, harbor district, Gynka
Gudrun wrapped her arms around little Tyan and smiled. She would put a different kid to bed every day and the kids had gotten used to that. There were 86 children in the Small Wonders orphanage, but only ten nurses to care for them. Gudrun knew the children needed the warmth of the resemblance of a mother when going to sleep every now and then, a story to lull them in, a song to get them to rest. So many of them would grow up to waste their potential: to become drunks, brutes, criminals. She wanted to do her part, as small as it was. Small wonders.
‘Gudrun?’
‘Yes Tyan?’
‘Why did Myra’s mother leave her here?’
Gudrun pondered for a moment.
‘You have never asked that about your own mother, Tyan.’
‘She was a… Lady for hire. She gave me a name and left me here, for you to care for me.’
Gudrun nodded her head and kissed Tyan on the back of his head. Gudrun herself had been the one who picked the name Tyan, his real mother had not left him a thing. Gudrun had learned that it was important for orphans to believe their parents left something behind for them, though. A dress in Myra’s case. A name in Tyan’s case. She made sure every kid had such a thing.
‘But why did Myra end up here? I hear her mother was a noble!’
Nobility in Gynka was difficult. The neighbouring states Albar and Salkamar had proper nobility, with Albar and its feudal society taking a special focus on lordly and knightly values. Gynk had begun as a trade empire and was since evolving in numerous ways, all the while having little impact on the world. It was a place of total freedom and total chaos compared to the other realms. Albar and Salkamar had made hiring Gynkeese mercenary armies a habit, though, which explained thee abundance of mercenary companies present. More scholarly places such as Lor Angur had soon realized that bright minds could also spawn from the slums of a swampy harbor city such as Gynka and thus recruited gifted people from there as well. In short, Gynk was a cradle, a melting pot, a whole mess. Many decades from now, history would write that organized states such as Salkamar succeeded because of their statecraft and organization, but that time was still a way off.
‘Anyone can come to our orphanage Tyan. Noble or not, anyone can come. And do not say /end up/, hmm? Is it that bad here?’
Tyan shifted in his sheets, crawling closer to Gudrun. ‘No..’
Gudrun kissed him on the back of his head again. ‘See. Now sleep. You have a lot of chores tomorrow.’
Tyan flinched. ‘One more story?’
‘I’ve already told you three.’
‘Fine..’, Tyan said and closed his eyes.
Gudrun had miscarried once, and the alchemists said she would never be able to bear a child again. Her husband had left her because he wanted to have a family to carry on his legacy. She understood more of the ‘nobility’ of Gynka than most people would assume. More importantly, although she would never give birth to any, she understood life.
Her gift to this world would be love, unconditionally, no matter the odds.
24th Irmas 60, the third warehouse on the left, Gynka harbor district
‘Who paid you to do this?’, she asked once again, her boot pressed against the man’s face on the coarse warehouse floor. It would have hurt him more if her boots were heeled, but she would never wear such boots. She – just like the city she had been born in – was what she was and that would have to be enough.
‘No one did! We are fighting for fair pay!’, the man said as well as he could, his face pressed against the floor and all. He had a Norodaj accent. Myra scoffed and released the man. The sailor of Norodaj descent got to his feet and looked at her and the numerous armed thugs in the room. He was confused why he was let go. Myra, with a brief nod of her head, motioned for the door. The sailor did not hesitate and went for it, leaving in a hurry. Outside, he would stumble over many slaughtered sailors, some of them who had been interrogated by Myra as well. But now that he was free to go, he would go /somewhere/, Myra knew.
‘Follow him’, she told one of her men.
The sailor would not go back to his employers right away. His employers would not try to contact him soon either. It was highly likely the man would find the next tavern and drink the horrors he had just witnessed away. At some point though, he would be sought out by someone for similar work again, because he had been sought out for it before. When that happened, one of Myra’s men would be watching. She had learned long ago that in the most buzzing and wild city of the continent, patience was the most valuable good. ‘I still hope Joron is having more luck’, she thought. And yes, he was.
24th Irmas 60, outskirts of the temple district
‘The places and people are more uptight, but the ale is better’ is what most senior members of the thieves guild would tell younger members when sending them on assignments near the temple district. Joron had found this to be true. Many temples and the monasteries belonging to them were brewing ale, the richer ones even producing wine. The outskirts of Gynka were not really a good region for grapes, though, so take this advice: if you ever go to the temple district, just stick to the ale.
Joron felt that beginning his search in the temple district was sort of uncreative given the fact that the people Tyan had vaguely described in his letter appeared to be some cult, but success in his search had soon vindicated him. He sat facing a thieves guild contact regularly stationed in this part of town. The man had his greasy dark hair combed straight on both sides of his head, while on top of his head he was almost bald. His skin looked like he had not bathed for many days. Joron was unsure whether this was an act to be more inconspicuous or the contact’s natural form.
‘Looks like your guy is a no-show’, Joron said after a good while of waiting.
‘Ease up, ease up man. He’s gonna come. Be calm, man’, his contact answered. He was speaking in a strange accent foreign to Joron which was only increased by the fact that he was constantly chewing on some form of spit tobacco.
‘I am calm.’
Soon after, a hooded figure entered the tavern. The person just stood in the middle of the doorway in an awkward fashion and was scanning the room until Joron’s colleague with the strange haircut was spotted. Perhaps that was the reason for having it. The whole scene was not good though, it looked way too much like what it was – a meeting that was supposed to be secret. ‘Perhaps we should have picked a more secluded place’, Joron said. The greasy man shook his head. ‘Perfect spot’, he said and stood up. Louder now for everyone to hear, he continued. ‘Have fun, guys’, and then he left.
The hooded figure had just reached the table and was sitting down when Joron was finally hit between the eyes and understood. In Gynka, everything and everyone had a price. Love was no exception. There weren’t many moral codes around either, safe for some communities in the temple district. If you wanted to buy some love but were part of a religious community not permitting this in Gynka, you had to get creative: If you ventured too far – let’s say, to the slums district where money was scarce and love was easy – you’d raise suspicion. Ultimately, the urges of people and the relative rigidity of the temple quarter had spawned certain establishments where interested parties could meet. Joron understood he was in one such establishment now and suddenly, himself sitting down with an incredibly nervous young acolyte was not suspicious at all.
‘You have to get me out of the city!’, the man said.
‘Whoah, whoah, slow it down pal.’
‘I agreed to this meeting only because I was told you could help me.’
‘We might be able to help you. You will have to help us first. I was told you have some information I might be interested in.’
The formerly hooded man now sitting across the table from Joron rubbed his forehead and afterwards hit his own temple with a flat hand three times. It appeared as if he was fighting against something within and that speaking caused him trouble.
‘Are you a mage?’, the man asked.
Joron scoffed, amused. ‘Do I look like a mage to you, man?’
‘Good, good.’ The man calmed down a bit. He inhaled deeply, collected himself, and placed both his hands on the table.
‘What you are looking for is not a cult, but a guild. A mage hunter guild. But it is not that easy-‘
‘Is it ever’, Joron quipped. The man across the table did not grin or chuckle. Joron cleared his throat, ‘please, continue.’
‘As I was saying, there are different branches. Some more radical, some less radical. They all want to see magic controlled, but their measures, their plans, differ.’
‘Which branch were you a part of?’, Joron asked bluntly. The man was already on edge. The meeting was either going to be a full success or a complete disaster and therefore, there was no harm in pushing the man further. The man looked Joron straight in the eye and his gaze sent a short shiver down his spine. ‘The radical sort.’
‘They did something to me. They did something to all of us. Make the weapons of your enemy our own weapon. Make their… strength… our strength… weaknesses… exploitation… torture… salvation…’, the man was trailing off.
Joron was a young member of the thieves guild, but he had done his fair share of interrogations. He knew all the tactics prisoners would apply, all the roles they would play. There was something seriously wrong here and he needed to get this man out of the public and to one of Myra’s safehouses for further questions. The thieves guild operative with the greasy hair really deserved a promotion for setting the meeting up like he did, Joron thought.
‘I can get you out of the city. Come with me’, Joron said. They got up and walked to the barkeep. Joron placed a few coins on the counter. It was customary that the proprietor of the establishment would get a cut for hosting a meeting. ‘Need a room? Clean sheets after every meeting, I promise’, he said and grinned at Joron.
‘Thanks, but I’m taking this one home’, Joron said.
The barkeep grinned. ‘Have fun.’
03rd Malas 60, a random jetty at the harbor district
Tyan stepped down the plank of the merchant ship he had been traveling with towards Gynka, his hometown. He inhaled deeply the mixture of swampy inland and salty sea air that created the unique smell of the city. He furrowed his brow and just now remembered how he had forgotten to send another raven to herald in his arrival. During the trip, he had mostly gotten drunk with the captain of the ship, Galen Havarian (great guy, great guy) and later, with the crew. Rum. A nasty habit Tyan had picked up somewhere along the way and one he just could not shake off. He just hoped Myra would not be too pissed at him.
Tyan inhaled the air around him once more and straightened his sword-belt. He also pulled a thick brown cloak from his bag and threw it over himself. Better not to show all the shiny rings and magical weapons in Gynka.
‘You need directions, mister?’ An apparently resourceful kid asked him as soon as his feet had touched the jetty. Always easy to squeeze some money out of newcomers by showing them the way, or signaling your friends to pick their pockets.
‘Thanks kid’, Tyan said. ‘I think I know the way.’
She saw him leaving the ship. She watched him covering himself with a thick cloak.
A short gaze at the note she carried in her small fingers, just to make sure it was him, then she nodded.
Standing between barrels the girl was just another figure, lingering around the docks. Her face hidden in the shadow. This old unremarkable cloak did his job well.
She saw him talking to the kid, starting to walk away from the jetty.
"This is it dear, my eyes will not leave you from now on. This I swear by the Shadows and Ronagan" the soundless whisper melts with the breezy air from the sea.
Borgate let out a grunt as she stepped into the Inn. Arrr... hav something for ya. He handed her a note with a frown and mentioned grumpy that this not should be a common habit. She smiled softly, took the note and put some silver on the counter. This let Borgate's face immediate be more amicable Well - for ya I'll do it Yridia
Going up to the balcony she let the soft breeze tousle her golden hair for a brief moment before starting to read the note. She did read it carefully, twice. Her gaze wandered off into the distance in thoughts If this is proven truth it will be even more difficult to get a good result. Not only one group, obviously some branches from the Mage Hunters operate in Gynk. And he feels also watched,
she shook her head soflty not good , not good at all. But I have faith in you Tyan. I will also inform the Knight Kraex'Ju about it
Her face suddenly turned into the deepest sadness and a tear was running down her cheek. Sammy had brought back memories she just wanted to stay hidden, memories of her great love, memories of a lost person. Gazing her ring she remembered his softly spoken words
You are my whole life, beginning to end. Even when we are apart, everything I do is for you. Yridia... marry me..?
Her heart felt still the loving joy, before all went dark. I hope you are still alive somewhere my love - Thaelevan she whispered, before turning back to her room and maybe find some rest.
At some point in the past, a hospital in Gynka’s slum district
Too weak to open her eyes, the sickly woman smiled when the old medico touched her cheek with his hand. The man’s skin felt coarse against her own hollow cheeks.
‘M-master…’, the woman managed to whisper.
‘Shht, don’t speak’, the old medico replied and returned the woman’s smile, although he knew she would not see it. He believed that she would feel it, nonetheless. The woman nodded weakly and fell back into her catatonic state. Around 60 percent of her body’s skin had been burned and she was not going to survive the night.
‘What happened to her?’, Aloth, the old medico’s young protégée, asked. The old medico inhaled deeply and replied with true sorrow in his voice.
‘An arsonist, a self-proclaimed master of fire, burned her home’, he began to explain while the two men continued their slow walk through the hospital full of victims suffering from strange and terrible afflictions.
‘He was a mage, of course’, the old medico continued his deliberations. ‘As you well know Aloth, the power mages wield is a horrible one and inevitably abusive.'
Aloth nodded. He too was greatly suffering from the actions of a mage. He had heard stories about the old medico who treated mage’s victims for free and sometimes with success and had sought him out. He and the old man had found a connection quickly, formed a bond, really. It was as if the medico knew Aloth’s thoughts and Aloth believed the old man could help him find salvation. They had walked the hospital many times and Aloth was slowly winning more and more of the medico’s trust. He felt that he was close to being accepted as the old man’s apprentice but had to make sure every day to hide his profession from him.
‘Come with me. I wish to show you something’, the old medico smiled. The smile seemed honest but at the same time piercing. Aloth couldn't shake the feeling that the old man was knowing his thoughts and feelings once again.
He was led through the hospital and down some stairs, stairs he had never walked in this place. Soon, the two men reached a heavy wooden door reinforced with a strange alloy. Aloth could feel magical energy emitting from it but was convinced he must have been mistaken. The old medico pulled a heavy key from his belt and unlocked the door, beyond which lay another corridor shrouded in darkness. The old man turned to look at him and while he did, the shadows of the corridor washed around his usually friendly and good-natured features, twisting them in ways that sent a shiver down Aloth’s spine.
‘Do not be afraid, my young friend’, the old man said. ‘Do not fear darkness.’ Aloth nodded in agreement and stepped inside. Behind him, the old man closed the door and only a moment after, lit a torch with only a wave of his finger. Aloth was shocked.
‘You… you are…’
‘A mage’, the old man finished Aloth’s sentence for him. ‘As are you, my young friend’, the old man grinned. Aloth realized that hiding this fact from the old medico had been in vain. Somehow, he had known all along. ‘A warrior can hate another warrior and a mage can hate another mage. Do not despair. I can provide what you seek.’
They descended further until they reached another chamber. It was mostly empty, safe for a large operating table in the middle of the room and the naked body of a man in chains in one of its corners. Aloth gasped. ‘What… what is wrong with this man… is he dead?’, he asked.
‘Oh, he is quite alive’, the old medico replied.
Aloth felt a strange energy coming from the chained body. It compelled him to ask not who the man was, but what he was. The old medico grinned in response, miraculously knowing his thoughts once again.
‘He is the future of our struggle. Tell me, Aloth. What is the only certain way to be safe from monsters hunting you at night?’
‘I… to fight the monsters? To find ways to defeat them?’, Aloth speculated.
‘Wrong’, the old man said. ‘The only way to be truly safe from the monster is not to be the hunted. It is to be the monster.’ The old medico then snapped his fingers and the chained body awoke. Without a moment of hesitation, it stormed in the direction of the two mages. Held back by the chains fixed at the wall, it clawed at the air between its twisted fingers and them. It could not reach them and instead stretched its neck out towards them, hoping to maybe catch one of them between its teeth and bite them to death. The creature's eyes were pure hatred, nothing else was in them. Were it not held back by chains, it would surely shred the two mages to pieces without mercy.
Aloth jumped back towards the opposite corner of the room, while the old man remained where he was, only inches away from the creature that was trying to grab him. ‘He is an early experiment, of course. I managed to put the hate for our kind in him, but he is nothing but feral now’, the old man began to calmly elaborate. ‘It will take many more attempts to refine this craft and produce specimen set on hunting our kind, without revealing their true intention too soon.’
‘You are insane! YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION!’, Aloth shouted at the old medico and attempted to summon up a lightning bolt between his hands for protection. Without his staff to channel his magical energy though, he was struggling. The old medico smiled and clicked his tongue. ‘Let me help you with that, my young friend’, he said and summoned a lightning bolt as well but managed far better and faster. The lightning struck through, penetrated Aloth’s defences with ease and stunned him immediately.
Soon after, Aloth’s limp body was heaved on the operating table by the old medico. The chained creature in the corner of the room was put to sleep again, permanently this time. The old medico issued a word in Ancient and a magical quill sprung from its inkwell, writing down exactly what was dictated:
‘The eight day in the month of Chos, the year 25. Subject number eleven. [...]’
Leland hated being called a kid, lad, child, or any other callow variant. Children had parents or family to look after their wellbeing— teets to drain. Children were mere figments of their own imagination, comparable to dreams or the changing of the wind and tides. Children were pathetic. Leland Dupre Niall had never been anyone’s babe or bairn and thus, no one’s child. Some men are bred, grown, while others were forged through the trials of circumstance.
He kept his distance from the wealthy stranger who’d disembarked from the weatherbeaten gangplank. Leland had spotted the glitter of gems and kept metal from afar before the grisled man concealed himself in a simple brown coat.
Gynka Portmasters kept impeccable ledgers, coveted access. Those who needed to remain in the know, paid regularly for the information; those less inclined to pay, sought the information by any means necessary. Fortunately, one of the smaller dock’s Portmasters had a daughter with a desire for shiny things and danger. She was daft as hell, Leland even called her his Little Sweet Canary, while she remained none the wiser. Month after month, his singing canary whispered into his ear, “Irmas 10th, ‘The Swinging Fellow’ bound for Illarion, marked return Malas 3rd.”
Only the dates changed and the names of ships varied. The exchange was teaching his canary dagger play, sleight of hand, raising a little mischief, or private intrigue. Leland liked the ships bound and on return from Illarion, the travelers to and fro and denizens from there near sustained his livelihood. Elsewhere in his life, he could be considered bold and reckless, or through another man’s eyes opportunistic and fearless.
Working Illarionites or their established merchants, however, was careful business. He’d learned long ago, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth or abuse Nargun’s favor. Syphon the heavy purse subtly, take employment if ever possible, and bide your time.
The stranger was not an easy mark and dismissed his advance. He knew the game. A Gynka regular or Gynkese? Under any other circumstance, he’d have been equally dismissive and sought an easier mark from The Swinging Fellow. The stranger’s gem encrusted fingers of fine gold and the adorned weapon belt, though, compelled him against better judgement.
“Time t’ roll th’ dice, Masta o' fate, ‘n Father o’ shadow.” Leland offered the low prayer in a whisper once the stranger was out of earshot. At the same time, Leland veered toward his second- his trusted hand of eight, Urris Ingleson. Leland nodded twice on approach. Urris’ stark green eyes came round as Elven gold coins, but he nodded once in return. Leland neared close enough for a low exchange, “Brown coat, th’ one I gave offer ta’.”
Leland had made his choice, Urris and his band of degenerates would have to handle the trailing and report back where the brown coat stranger settled. Leland had his suspicions, the man looked familiar, but he wanted confirmation.
As the teenage young man broke from his partner toward a cramped alley to meld back into the hustle and bustle, deeper thoughts plagued his mind. Gynka had grown bothersome, debts surmounted, competition endless, and an inescapable prickling feeling of death lamented over him.
Eyes flicker restless, though she is calm. Its a habit to see and notice a whole scene and mark informations for later.
Shadow the man with some distance, she did review all, without losing her object.
This Kid, thief gang, robbing rich people, numbers unknown. He did met another one nearly unnoticed, boss or gang member.
"This man has no idea what kind of trouble awaits him, this kids aren't even his biggest problem. That I'm sure of"
Day after Day passed by.
Illarion was on turmoil after the recent events in Runewick.
But Yridia did what she always did - keeping herself separated from the most events.
Strolling through the woods and fields, gathering herbs, brewing and creating some potions.
She was aware, though, that the day may be come when her life of reclusion could end.
I should visit Sammy to look after him. Hopefully he has recovered.
She was ashamed that she did fall asleep in the beautiful garden underneath Galmair. But sleep wasn't granted to her easily most of the times.
With a sigh she promised to herself to look after Sammy, and for sure looking also after Riniao if it was possible to reach him.
The children part is essentially optional for the progression of the story. For more important bits, just scroll down until Joron is mentioned and has dialogue. Also the forum seems to censor some words. If you read 'smile' within dialogue, just assume I originally wrote foxtrot uniform charlie kilo.
03rd Malas 60, Big Dreams Orphanage, Gynka’s East Trade Quarter
‘Tyan, Tyan!’, some kids shouted merrily when he entered the unusually well-maintained wooden building in the eastern trade quarter. To be true, most of the kids lost interest quickly or just stood there watching curiously, while three of them – two boys and one girl – stormed at Tyan and tried to hug him all at once. He had to find his balance after the charge. My, those kids have grown, he through to himself.
‘My, you kids have grown!’, he also said.
‘Where have you been so long Tyan, Myra said you’re probably dead!’, one of the kids scoffed.
Tyan furrowed his brow, deeply. ‘Good to see Myra hasn’t lost her sense of humor..’
‘Did you bring something, though?’
‘Yes! What did you bring us?’
‘Tell us, tell us!’
Tyan grinned. Yes, those were proper children of Gynka. Always looking for something to gain, always knowing people would give them stuff if they showed them affection. Or were all children like that? Strangely enough, Tyan did not know, even after all these years. Perhaps he never would. ‘Nope. Nothing’, he said, teasing.
‘Liar!’, the girl shouted.
‘Liar, liar!’, the boys joined in.
‘Alright’, Tyan said. ‘You found me out.’ He hunkered down and moved his hand behind his thick brown cloak, reaching for his bag. One of the boys was pulling on his cloak eagerly and Tyan looked at him reproachfully. ‘Ah ah ah, have we forgotten out manners?’, Tyan asked.
‘No, we haven’t…’, the boy answered meekly and stepped back a bit. The girl was already waiting patiently at a distance, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. The other boy had straightened his back at Tyan’s words and was looking like he was standing at attention.
‘Well then, you first, Hilde..’, Tyan looked at the girl.
‘Yes!’, Hilde clenched her little fists and stuck out her tongue at the two other kids. Tyan carefully pulled out a piece of cloth and a small notebook wrapped in rough leather. Hilde eagerly took the piece of cloth, but then continued to unroll it very carefully. Like she had guessed, it was containing numerous dried samples of flora from Illarion. ‘I’ve seen three of those before, but not the others!’, she said.
Tyan smirked. ‘Well I’m happy I could bring you /something/ new then. There are some notes in the book I bought from an old coot living within a tree circle in a forest, with some information about the herbs. You’ll have to figure out the rest by yourself, aye?’, he continued.
Hilde grinned almost mischievously. ‘Oh, I will, you just watch!’ Hilde had always been interested in flowers, but not like most girls. Yes, she thought they were pretty, but she was also interested in the brews, potions and perhaps poisons one could make from them. Nobody knew in which direction her path would lead and for now, Tyan was content with fuelling her general interest without attempting to push her into any direction.
‘Now you, Samir’, Tyan looked at the boy who had previously been tugging at his cloak. He also noticed the other boy, Gero, flinch, but he soon regained his posture. Gero, more than anything, wanted to be knight. It was a rare thing for a Gynkeesh orphan dreaming of knights in shining armour. There had been a time when Tyan would have dismissed such dreams, and truth be told today, he did not care about knightly values much anymore. But if his time in Cadomyr and the friends he had met there had taught him one thing, it was that despite the knightly path had never truly been Tyan's path to pursue, it was still a path worth pursuing in general.
A knight however had to remain his posture, his patience, his grace, even when wronged, even when treated with disrespect and unfairly. It is why Tyan chose to reward Samir before Gero now, although Samir had been impatient before and did not deserve it.
Tyan pulled out a pouch and motioned for Samir to hold out his hands. Tyan then poured a couple of wooden figurines from the pouch. He had carved them all out himself passing time on the ship traveling to Gynka. They were all depictions of creatures found in Illarion and Samir eyed them curiously, a Raptor figurine especially. ‘Are they really real?!’, he asked.
‘Yep.’
‘Did you ever fight one?’
‘Sure did’, Tyan nodded. ‘On the way to a particularly rewarding mine, to be precise.’
‘Whoah!’, Samir exclaimed. Perhaps Samir was the least grown up of the three children, but his imagination knew no bounds. He loved playing with figurines, depicting epic battles or just warriors fighting mighty beasts. Right now, Samir himself was only fighting street dogs with sticks or hunting rats with his self-made sling, but he wanted to become a great adventurer and hunter one day, to face the most strange and dangerous creatures. Tyan had known a lizardman with a similar spirit for combat and exploration once and knew that such a path was not necessarily naïve, aimless, or futile. Some liked to collect the wonders of the world, some wanted to hunt them. Who was Tyan to judge?
‘Now, Gero’, Tyan said, and the boy stepped forward. ‘For you, as usual, stories.’ He pulled two books and a few manuscripts from his now empty bag. The books he had paid a scholar to copy from Cadomyr’s library, the manuscripts he had put together himself. They contained stories about knightly values, adventures and generally were quite difficult to read for a boy of Gero’s age. However, Gero had always shown an aptitude for letters and despite most orphanages, Big Dreams was teaching everyone to read and write. It was less profitable than to put everyone out on the street stealing or gathering information, sure, but it was very dear to Tyan and his colleagues saw the long-time value in it.
Myra especially liked to point out the long-time value and possible monetary profit of teaching all their apprentices how to read and write, if only to hide the fact that it was dear to her as well.
‘Can you read them to us tonight?’, Hilde asked.
‘Yes, read them to us!’, Gero nodded. ‘At least ooooone?’
‘Alright’, Tyan smiled. ‘But only if the nurses tell me you’ve completed all your chores!’, he reminded the children.
‘Don’t worry Masines, they do that even without you reminding them to’, a male voice joined in the conversation. It was Joron who must have been leaning against a doorframe and watching the scene for some time. ‘There’s also some people around enough to remind them daily, not just once every few month or years’, he added somewhat scoffingly. Tyan rose and walked over to the man, smiling.
‘Joron my man, you need to cheer up.’
Joron nodded, but not at Tyan but at the children. ‘Run along now little ones, the old man will have time to read to you later.’
‘Bye Tyan!’, Hilde waved a hand and the three children ran off and the others in the back dispersed as well.
Tyan frowned. ‘Was that really necessary?’
‘I felt like it’, Joron said. ‘That's how you decide what to do next, right? When you feel like it. I don’t like someone who can’t even perform a simple task in time to remind others of their duties.’
‘Joron, they are kids. Drop it.’
Joron made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘By the way, some people here have done a job, even if it was some strange job given to them by a man through a short letter from half the world away. I’ve made some progress.’
‘You have?’, Tyan did not hide his astonishment. He liked Joron. He did not like Joron not liking him back one bit, though. Joron handed over a scroll. ‘Everything’s in there. The man is still in our custody. I suppose you have questions for him. He also said he might be magically tracked, so for all our sakes, please make it quick so we can get rid of him.’
‘Get rid of him?’, Tyan inquired.
‘We’ll help him get out of the city. From there, he will be on his own.’
Tyan nodded. ‘Where’s Myra?’
‘In her office. Go on up’, Joron motioned towards some stairs. Tyan stuffed away the parchment he had received and walked off. The orphanage, which also served as a hideout and recruiting centre for the Thieves Guild, was in good shape. Many years ago, when the money was flowing in constantly from forging all sorts of jewelry – before everyone started doing it – in Cadomyr and Tyan had still been a respected noble there, he had always put some coin back for this very thing. It had been as much a long-time dream as it had been a backup plan should things in Illarion ever turn sour for him.
Long story short, during one of his longer absences he had grabbed all that coin, found his old companions in Gynka and helped create just another Thieves Guild hideout. His contribution had been major, but of course Myra and especially the Guild had stakes in the place as well.
The door to Myra’s office was slightly open. Tyan knocked to announce himself, then walked in without waiting for an answer. Myra was standing in a corner and leaning over a high brass bucket of water, cleaning a small cut on her right forearm.
She had taken off her upper leather armor and was only wearing a simple short-sleeved white cotton shirt, while her lower body was still covered in her usual expensive dark leather armor. One look at her and anyone would think: Thieves Guild. But that was never a problem. For all the thieves, thugs and bandits living among the merchants, drug lords and mercenary companies in Gynka, there was still less skulking and intrigue than at the noble courts of Albar or perhaps even Salkamar at times. In Gynka, people were what they were – trash, as the greater part of the world would say – and people were content with it.
‘You need help with that?’, Tyan asked.
‘It’s just a scratch.’
‘Getting slow in combat?’
Myra chuckled. Her short chestnut hair was revealing her ears, which were pointed ever so slightly. She was only of elven blood by a quarter, but this still slowed down her aging. She was about as old as Tyan was, but yet like a human in her thirties. In ten, fifteen, maybe twenty years she would begin feeling the wheel of time on her body as well, but not yet.
‘I hope Joron wasn’t too hard on you’, she said while deftly wrapping a bandage over the cleaned cut on her forearm.
‘He was, actually.’
‘He found your man, though.’
‘I’m not sure he’ll be the one to help me out, I haven’t talked to him yet.’
Myra shrugged and moved to her table to sit down behind it. ‘I think he’ll be able to help you out. I have a feeling about that one.’
‘So..’, Tyan began. ‘You’re not mad?’
‘I’m bloody furious’, Myra smiled.
‘Okay..’, Tyan said and pulled some notes and a leather pouch from his bag. ‘I’ve brought some knowledge on the glyphs, though. A scholar friend from a place called Runewick explained it to me, it’s all in the notes. I brought some glyphs, too, but I think they are present around here as well. Just not as abundant.’ He placed the glyphs and the notes on the table. Myra nodded.
‘I’m not really furious’, she said.
‘I know.’ Tyan was lying now.
‘I had just hoped you’d stick around this time. You know. For good. What draws you to that place? You once told me everyone there could go smile themselves’, Myra furrowed his brow.
‘Yeah I said something similar recently.. to someone..’, Tyan began. ‘Truth be told, I have no answer to that.’
Myra shrugged her shoulders. ‘Fair enough. Is she pretty at least?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘You’re helping someone, and you are Tyan. There’s a woman involved.’
‘It’s not like that’, Tyan said and moved closer to the table. He placed both his hands on it and looked Myra in the eye. ‘Not this time. There is something going on in Illarion that’s big, something that has been around for years. We don’t know if it is all connected. I just wanted to do my part, as little as it may be, and besides, I was coming back here anyway so, it was along the way.’
Myra studied Tyan for a moment and then nodded her head once. ‘Strangely enough, I believe you.’
Tyan was relieved.
‘Still, I will need your sword, or axe, or whatever it is you fight with these days, around the docks. The Unkempt have launched some serious attacks.’
‘My sword is yours, of course.’
‘Good. I’ll have tasks for you soon. Until then, you may visit the man Joron found and ask him your questions.’
‘Aye, will do!’, Tyan said, contented.
‘Great. Now get out of here, I must adjust to your stench before I can have any longer conversation with you, T’, Myra grinned. Tyan grinned as well and mockingly bowed like a noble, walking backwards towards the exit.
‘Of course, Lady Myra of the Docks, allow this humble servant to beg his leave.’
Myra shook her head and turned her attention back to numerous papers on her desk quickly. When Tyan was almost out of the door, he once again turned his head towards Myra for a moment to address her.
‘Notwithstanding everything I said earlier.., unexpectedly someone got involved in the case and she /is/ very pretty, you guessed it’, he grinned at Myra.
‘Oh, get the smile out of here, Tyan’, Myra smirked.
He did. And since he really had been honest earlier when talking about his motives, he quickly sought out the man Joron had found for him. He was treated well, although he was under house arrest. It was probably for his own safety.
Tyan was horrible at drawing but had a good memory. On the ship, he had paid a young mariner with gifted hands to draw the likeness of Riniao. When he showed it to the man under house arrest and explained the whole story to him, the man nodded. ‘I know him’, he said. ‘Oh gods have mercy on us, I know him…’
Finally !! let see what he did write
she mumbles whilst hurry up the stairs and to the balcony.
Opening Tyans letter her hands start to shake a bit as if they would know there could be bad news.
Yridia,
I hope this letter reaches you, for I believe there has been a breakthrough. My contacts in Gynka have found a former member of the Mage Hunters, a man who was supposed to be turned just as Riniao was. However, the people performing the rituals botched it and he is now in my custody and will get assistance fleeing the city in return for his help.
The man recognized Riniao. He didn't know him personally but confirmed he was part of a group of people captured by the Mage Hunters to be altered in mind and perhaps body. Like I write earlier, there are different branches of the Mage Hunters. Riniao apparently sought the help of a less radical group first, one that only hunts down evil mages and criminals. But somewhere along the way, this moderate group got attacked and destroyed by a radical one and many of their members were killed, others captured.
The man in my custody got into the said radical group under similar circumstances and is certain that his own story matches that of Riniao. The radical guild uses artefacts and certain spells to alter the minds of their members, to turn all positive feelings felt for magic and magic practitioners into negative ones. I have yet to find out more - and proof other than my word - but I would strongly suggest to not attempt to magically heal Riniao at this point. From what I've learned, bluntly applying magical spells to undo what the Mage Hunters did to him could severely damage his mind, or even kill him.
The most important bit is that Riniao did not act out of his own malice, but was made a tool of other forces. I hope this doesn't come too late for any trial. I must stay in Gynka a bit longer to help my friends and perhaps find out something else in the process. Something is in the wind around the city here, I feel like blood will be spilled soon. Whose blood and under what circumstance I cannot say.
I hope everything is well in Illarion. Say hi to Kraex for me.
Signed,
Tyan
The letter is sinking on her lap and her eyes are closed.
So I was right. They build human weapons - how disgusting and cowardly, I have to inform the Countess and Sir Kraex about.
We really should try to convince Riniao for a ritual I have in mind at Usharas shrine. Azuros and Cay did already volunteer to help and support me.
But I think I will also search in the libraries of the realms.Maybe I can find a book about such terrible inhuman demonic methods.
Ushara help us if there are a lot more of innocent people turned into living mindless murderers.
With haste she reaches for parchments and her quill to write down the informations for Cadomyr.
03rd Malas 60, later; cellar of the Big Dreams Orphanage, Gynka’s East Trade Quarter
‘You know him? That was too easy’, Tyan said and furrowed his brow.
The man looked up at him, a sudden flare of malice in his eyes. ‘Well don’t get your hopes up, you idiot’, the man spat out at Tyan before quickly lowering his head and rubbing his forehead. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.’
Tyan’s brow was still furrowed. ‘Alright.. so what did you mean to say?’
The man inhaled and looked up at Tyan again, calm now. There were deep dark rings under his eyes and his skin was unnaturally pale, like he was about to throw up. There was a distinct sadness in his eyes, the sadness of a broken man. Tyan had seen it before.
‘I… sometimes I am not myself. It’s what they did to us.’
Tyan nodded. ‘That’s why I am here. That’s why you are here.’
‘I’ve been meaning to say… I didn’t know your guy personally. I’ve seen him, though, among others. They were being brought to be processed’, the broken man started to explain.
Tyan nodded as if he wanted to say, go on.
‘They captured him and the others, like I was captured some years ago. I was an apprentice you see, making salves mostly or doing cheap tricks for the birthdays of rich merchant’s children.’
‘Magic tricks, I suppose’, Tyan inquired.
For a second the malice was in the broken man’s eyes again. ‘Of course, magic, you oaf, what else? Bloody card tricks?’
Tyan blinked and just looked at the man until he calmed down and continued. ‘It was when they nabbed me. They were keeping a low profile back then, as you Thieves Guild types would put it.’
‘I’m not with them, technically.’
‘So?’
‘So, nothing. Doesn’t matter. Please continue.’
‘You’re going to help me get out of the city though, right?’
‘Sure. That was the deal. Continue.’
The man inhaled and nodded to himself. ‘Well, where was I. Back then, they only hunted small game, like me. Slowly building up their ranks. These days, they hunt whole groups. Like the one your guy was with. A guild dedicated to hunting evil mages. That of course being an ambivalent concept…’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘We crushed that group, killed all the elders and took the newer members captive. To turn them.’
‘Turn them how?’
The broken man tapped his own forehead with a finger. ‘They – we – mess with the heads of people. We used anything we could find, magical artefacts, spells, potions to soften the mind post-procedure… anything.’
‘You hunt mages, but you use magic yourself? Odd.’
The broken man smirked. ‘Is it? Perhaps it is. Perhaps we’ll all commit mass suicide once every other mage has been eradicated. Or perhaps my former masters have some deeper, more nefarious plan altogether’, the man shrugged his shoulders.
‘Can it be cured?’, Tyan inquired.
‘No. Never completely, I think. They turn around all your thoughts, your feelings, down to the deepest subconscious memories. Everything good you ever felt connected to magic, people who use magic, anything magical really, they turn around. Like… a metal shield, turned into a sword. First you are a shield, for protection, but they melt you down and forge a sword out of you, made only for killing. Does that make sense?’
Tyan shrugged his shoulders as well. ‘It will do.’
‘We have been refining our techniques for decades. Anyone else attempting to cure this would probably just kill the patient or leave them emotionally and mentally scarred for life.’
‘Great story, great story’, Tyan said and looked the man into his tired eyes. ‘There is just one problem. If the procedure is so perfect, how did you get out?’
The broken man fell silent for long time. ‘I am not entirely sure. I think it was… love… in my case.’
Tyan laughed. ‘Oh, here we go. I knew this was too convenient.’
‘Shut up!’, the broken man shouted. ‘I’m telling you the truth’, he spat a bit while stressing the word truth. 'My wife… she must be still somewhere. I hope. She wasn’t a mage, so I suppose them altering my memories of her wasn’t as thorough. Or perhaps someone screwed up the procedure, those people are just mortals after all. And I want now is to find her, explain why I changed, why I left… at some point the memory of her came back to be, in dreams at first and later more vividly… I started seeing her in every face in the street, but it wasn’t her. It was menacing, but in a good way.’
‘We’ve all been there’, Tyan nodded. ‘One way or the other.’
‘Well. That’s just my theory. What’s important is that I got to my senses somehow. And now I need to get out of here until they forget about me so that I can find her. Please help me.’
Tyan nodded. ‘We will. I’ll take you to Illarion.’
‘To where?’
‘Exactly. The place is not entirely unknown, but not many have heard of it around here. It will be a good place to erase your tracks before you move on. I wouldn’t recommend returning to Gynka, though.’
‘I know. I will have to wait some time… but I have to find her.’
‘None of my business. The deal was to get you out of the city and that’s what we’re going to do.’
05th Malas 60, the docks. A ship bound for Runewick
The skies were clear. Seagulls were screaming and sails were fluttering in the soft breeze of the sea. Winds coming from the open water were blowing away some of the smell of the city.
Myra, Tyan and Joron were walking side by side towards the jetty where the ship would leave for several harbors. None of those were located in Illarion. The ship would pass Illarion however, and was scheduled to anchor at the island’s near shallows for a night in case anything unforeseen had happened along the journey and repairs or bringing extra supplies on board was due. When traveling the high seas, the direct route might be quicker, but a smart captain would always accept a little detour to get close to land every now and then. And when this particular ship would get close to Illarions shores, a rowing boat would bring Tyan’s witness to Runewick in the cover of night.
Only the captain of the ship knew, and he was trustworthy. It was a Thieves Guild ship, if not officially.
Tyan was happy, Joron was sore and Myra was Myra.
‘Good to see you’re sticking around, T’, she said.
‘Told you I would’, Tyan reassured everyone.
‘I still bet a gold coin he’ll jump on that ship in the last moment’, Joron murmured. One of the several Thieves Guild men walking behind the three offered to take on that bet and Joron nodded to him. ‘You’ll soon miss that coin you’ll owe me, just watch.’
Tyan shook his head. Myra glanced over to him. ‘He does have a point, though.’
‘I said I’d stay and help you with the Unkempt.’
‘I’d rather you finally decided to stay for good.’
Tyan grimaced and rolled his eyes.
‘Don’t do that, T. Don’t roll your eyes at me.’
‘Fine. Then you stop trying to own me as well. I’m my own man.’
Myra smirked. ‘Okay’, she said. ‘Be your own man.’
Tyan was dissatisfied with that answer, but he was keen on changing the topic now. Conversations like this were what you got from wanting to dance on all parties at the same time. Tyan put some distance between him and Myra for the moment, for she had to discuss some important Guild stuff anyway.
They all watched the numerous hooded figures boarding the ship, while through a separate gangplank, supplies were loaded. The captain of the ship looked every passenger in the eye and was collecting previously written papers of passage, which were only receipts to make sure everyone had paid for the trip.
While the others were engaging in some conversation, Tyan leaned against a bitt and began to stuff a pipe with a mix of tobacco and sibanac. One of the wagons being pulled towards the ship was emitting a distinct sound of glass bottles clinking against each other and one of the Thieves Guild men took it upon himself to approach and take a look under the piece of cloth that had been flung over the wagon. ‘Oi! Get yer hands off me wagon ye wanker!’, the man leading the wagon shouted.
‘Alright, alright!’, the Thieves Guild man was raising his arms in the air innocently. ‘I was just trying to get me hands on some booze, is all.’
Tyan chuckled and took a deep drag from his pipe. The beams of the morning sun broke through the few clouds in the clear blue sky and dazzled his eyes for a moment, so he had to avert them. On the jetty, some of the passengers boarding the ship had turned around to walk the other way, bumping into other passengers and looking at their faces. Tyan chuckled, numbed by the leaves he was smoking.
‘Second thoughts before a long journey, eh?’, he chuckled to himself. He took another drag from his pipe but had to cough this time. He coughed a few times, which shot blood back to his head. For a moment, he was able to think more clearly, and something struck him. ‘Man.. hey, man!’, he shouted over to the Thieves Guild member who had approached the wagon before.
‘What?’
‘Get over here’, Tyan coughed. Myra, who had been in a conversation with Joron and some other of her men, looked over.
‘What was in that cart? Booze?’
‘Nah’, the man said. ‘They sure be loading a shitload of Gynk Fire, must be another war somewhere.’
Tyan coughed again. ‘My—Myra!’ He coughed. ‘Som—ing’s off!’
‘What is it?’, Myra tried to shout over to Tyan.
‘Something’s off!’, he shouted and pushed the Thieves Guild man aside. All the passengers had boarded, and the seamen had released the ropes and pushed the ship off the jetty. Its sails were lowered, fluttering in the breeze noisily before they could catch the wind completely. It was too loud to hear anything.
‘Something is off!’, Tyan shouted once more against the noise. Myra could not hear him, but she saw his eyes from a distance and Tyan’s terrified look alarmed her as well. She and the men surrounding her drew their blades and axes. Amidst the commotion, a light brighter than the sunrays piercing the fluffy clouds in the sky could be seen, flying across the horizon from the harbor towards the ship leaving it.
‘Get down!’, someone shouted.
Tyan stared at the ship, which was hit by the flaming arrow and after a few seconds of silence, blew up in a blazing ball of fire. The last thing Tyan could see was the passengers who had formerly turned around on the jetty draw steel as well and Myra and her men turning towards them, before Tyan was caught by the shockwave of the explosion and was flung violently into the murky waters of Gynka’s port.
The problem with dark or murky waters was that you would not know which direction to swim. You would want to swim towards the surface, of course, but were you? Without the light of the sun piercing through the muck, you would never know. You would have a feeling, yes, this must be up. You would go for it, but perhaps that was just taking you five, eight, twelve meters further down. While swimming, doubt would perhaps overcome you: was this really the right direction? You would turn around and try the other way, but was it up now, or rather left, or right? Panic would take hold and a distinct certainty, while the mixture of gases in your lungs steadily swung more towards carbon dioxide and away from oxygen. It burned. You would burn under water. What a show, oh, the irony.
There was not up, not down, not left, not right. There was only darkness. It was futile to keep on trying. Waving your arms and legs around in the water like a fool would not change a thing if there was no direction to go to. It was a senseless struggle. Best to just forget the panic, the burning sensation in your lungs, the certainty of death. Cherga was merciful. Soon, it would all be over. Water filled your lungs as your body undertook a final attempt to suck in air despite being under water. How foolish. How defiant.
But there was a hand now, pulling you up. There was a light, too. ‘Cherga..’, you would have said, but not even bubbles emerged from your mouth. There was no air left in you for bubbles. Your heart would beat rapidly to provide the oxygen craving cells in your organs with fuel. The blood was flowing, but there was nothing useful left in it. In your final moments, you knew, you would see something important, a flash of life before your eyes.
Tyan saw nothing.
20th Ushos 28, Gynka’s slums
In the mirror, there was a beautiful face resting on a long pale neck. If there was a complete symphony of elven and human blood, the image in the mirror might have been it at this very moment. Long brown hair, gently curled, was falling over slim shoulders, down a smooth yet defined back and on the other side, ample yet delicate breasts, only party hiding pink nipples. Her whole figure was lean yet strong, wiry but inevitably feminine.
She screamed at the mirror and grabbed a knife. Her long hair fell to the floor defeated like she felt right now. For some years she had seen this moment coming, but she had always clung to the faint hope that it never would. In Gynka, everyone could be who they wanted to be. In Gynka, everyone was exactly who they were. She wanted to be a Thieves Guild operative, a branch leader even, at some point. But she was also a woman. She wished she had been born ugly but had turned out quite the opposite. It had bothered her, and she had been careful to never play the card of her budding beauty. It would have been easy to use it to her advantage, but she had been careful – to no avail.
A man had tried to rape her. Her superior, no less. When she had felt his stench upon her, his crude fingers groping her in places she didn’t want him to, she had been faced with a choice: let it happen and move on, or fight and forfeit her own life. She had chosen the latter. And since she had been faced with such a definite choice, she had chosen to go all in. Her knife had cut deep, and the man’s throat cut wide open. She was afraid of herself for feeling such satisfaction watching a man die clutching his bleeding throat, desperately gasping for air when nothing but his own blood was filling his lungs. It felt like justice when it was not. What was it?
Once her head was bald, she discarded the knife. It hit the wall where a children’s dress was hanging, a little dress allegedly left for her by her mother. Myra had grown out of it long ago but had never before felt more distant to it than she did now. ‘Goodbye, little dress’, she said and dropped it in a plain chest.
23rd Ushos 28, Gynka’s East Trade Quarter
‘You have stolen from the guild and have contributed nothing of value to it yet, and therefore I punish you to die’, the lord told the accused. ‘Take him to the obstacle course, he will serve a purpose for our new recruits, if anything’, he added.
The man screamed insults and soon begged for his life but was dragged away. Myra was next.
‘I am thirsty. Is anyone else thirsty? Dispensing justice makes a man thirsty’, the lord grinned.
‘Girl! Are you thirsty?’
Myra looked left and right. The inner circle of Gynka’s Thieves Guild was present, idly sitting around the flamboyantly decorated room and paying little notice to her while their leader was dealing with the day-to-day snap judgements.
‘I could use some wine’, Myra said.
‘Wine?’, the lord laughed dryly. ‘She has come here to die, and she asks for wine, how refined. Oh, go on, get her some wine, the good one, top shelve, third on the left.’
A lackey was trying to find the wine. ‘Not that one, you buffoon!’, the lord shouted and got up from his cushioned chair. ‘Leave it. I’ll get it myself.’
He picked a dusty bottle from one of the many shelves in the room and uncorked it with skill. He sniffed the bottleneck. ‘Ah Yes. A Val Sans Retour vintage of Albar, aptly named’, the man smiled. ‘Legend has it a man can never return from said valley for the presence of fine wine and womenfolk there.’
The man sniffed the wine again. ‘All nonsense and rumor, of course. But the vintage… 26… No! 25. A great one. The spring was moist, and the summer was hot, the grapes rejoiced. You are lucky, little one.’
Myra held out a cup that had been given to her. The man frowned.
‘Lucky, but uneducated. A good red must breathe before we pour and drink it, little one. Let us hear your testimony first’, he said and handed the bottle to one of his servants. He poured half the bottle into a glass decanter to help it oxidize.
‘I killed a Thieves Guild branch leader’, Myra said.
The man clapped his hands. ‘Bravo! I have rarely seen such honesty around here, but then again, I haven’t been here long.'
It was true. The man Myra was facing, the new head of the Thieves Guild, had just arrived in Gynka from the hinterlands. He was known only as Salinger, a small but awe-inspiring man who always spoke just as loudly as to be understood, but also softly prompting everyone present to keep it down and listen. His voice was commanding respect without actively seeking it. It was strange.
‘He tried to rape me’, Myra continued.
Salinger looked at her only for a short moment.
‘Is that why you cut your hair?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see.’
One of Salinger’s men approached him and whispered something to his ear. With a motion of his finger, Salinger sent the man off and he took several others with him leaving the room.
‘How did you do it?’
‘How did I do what?’
‘How did you kill the man?’
‘I slit his throat. I cut deep, and watched him suffocate on his own blood’, Myra explained.
Salinger’s eyes became dark now. He leaned back in his chair, almost vanishing in shadows. ‘And do you believe he deserved that fate?’
‘Yes’, Myra answered promptly. ‘He was stealing from the Thieves Guild.’
‘Stealing what?’
‘Me’, Myra said. ‘He was trying to steal me, and I punished him for it.’
‘Pour me some wine’, Salinger told one of his men. He poured some of the Sans Retour 25 vintage from the decanter into the Thieves Guild leader’s cup. ‘Pour the cub some wine as well.’ The man blinked, but soon hurried to fulfil his master’s wish.
‘Taste it’, Salinger told Myra.
She took a sip.
‘And?’
‘It’s pretty good.’
Salinger laughed merrily. ‘Pretty good’, he said, still laughing.
He then finished his cup and got up from his chair. ‘I have to go now, little cub. Business to take care of. Oh, you may live, by the way. I say that what you did was just. Don’t let it get to your head.’
Salinger grabbed his weapons, strapped them to his belt and moved to leave the room. Myra was frozen in place, still holding her cup of wine. ‘You are rather new to this world, little cub. I am rather new to his town. We have something in common’, Salinger said. ‘Don’t let this judgement get to your head.’
‘I won’t’, Myra swallowed.
‘Good’, Salinger smiled. ‘I aim to change a lot around here, little cub. Now, don’t you have places to be, tasks to complete?’
‘I… I do! I do!’, Myra said.
‘I thought so. Enjoy your wine, though. Never forget this moment, little cub.’
When he walked past Myra, Salinger touched her shoulder. ‘And welcome to the Thieves Guild.’
Myra smiled.
05th Malas 60, the docks
There was a man on top of her now, just like years before. He was not trying to rape her, though, he was trying to kill her. To him, she was just another combatant in a war, and that was exactly what he was to Myra as well.
She threw him off easily with a rehearsed shake of her hips and once he was underneath her, rammed a dagger into his neck. On the ground, she found her axe and grabbed it as she quickly got back to her feet. She parried a sword there, swirled around and burried the blade of her axe in the back of the head of her attacker. She drew a dagger from her belt and engaged her next opponent, a young and terrified man, who she finished off quickly.
She caught the blade of a sword between the axeblade and the handle and killed the next man by stabbing her dagger into his eye. Out of reflex, she pulled the dagger out quickly and slashed around her center, gashing the face of another warrior open. Her axe followed up to pierce the man’s skull, finishing the deal. A large man charged her and threw her off balance, his massive body weight hitting her chest and pushing all the air out of her. She had been there before, though, and pierced her dagger into the back of the man’s neck. She missed and only cut him, and he was holding a hand to the wound, glaring at her. He was holding a large axe and was sure to kill her, but was toppled over by another warrior, Thieves Guild or not, Myra could not tell.
Amidst the battle, she had lost Joron. ‘JORON!’, she shouted. Someone with less skill engaged her and she killed another man. ‘JORON!’, she shouted again. He was nowhere to be found.
‘SHIEEELDS!’, someone shouted, and Myra subconsciously grabbed a piece of wood that would serve as a shield. Arrows rained down on them now and it was clear that this attack was not a chance encounter. Someone had planned this all along.
Urris and his crew of budding street rats, with practiced precision, trailed the wealthy man in brown coat. The sorely crew of twelve, hungry for their next meal, weaved in and out of the foot traffic swirling around Tyan like bees. Not one of the tails, fancying themselves as the Artful Dozen, was over the age of eight. Urris, the eldest, had personally recruited them out of various orphanages in and around Gynka. A choice few, not captured by the law in the streets, were also selected whilst begging. One was only three when he joined, destitute on the streets- thinner than a crane bird's legs.
Leland had taught Urris, like an apprentice, and in turn Urris repaid Leland's kindness by being his eyes and ears with the Artful Dozen. When they worked for Leland, they did not steal or commit any crimes. This was the law, their only job was to collect information- nothing more. Once a boy tried to nick a coin and ended up dead the next morning in a sewer hole the crew used as a hideout. A dagger stuck through the boy's heart left a simple note and warning:
"Freelancing is not tolerated ~Fox"
Needless to say, the offense was never repeated. The kid had been greedy, Leland had always paid well, and even offered charity when times were hard.
The Artful Dozen trailed and trailed, alternating crew members (changing their look if they had to cycle their numbers back through) until Tyan arrived at the Small Wonders orphanage. A crew member confirmed him entering and turned immediately to report to Urris at the Breather's Temple to Ronagan in the Temple District. The meeting occurred in the mess hall for serving meals to the poor and needy.
They sat back to back at nearby tables surrounded by trusted friends, speaking.
Urris cursed, drawing a priestess’ ire. She ordered him out after he payed penance to the shrine and burning a candle.
On a stormy day at the docks.
Leland and Urris volunteered to help an old deaf man, as a cover; for extra coin; and to talk in peace. Both the conversation and the work seemed forlorn as Tanora and Findari bared down on Gynka. The old man had dry docked his boat and it was Leland's and Urris' responsibility to help him make some repairs and scrape barnacles off the outer hull of the ship.
Leland cursed too upon receiving the news. Leland did not dare encroach on the Thieves Guild in any way. The Mark was dead to him and both fellows worked in silent rage with swiftness to go drown their misfortune as soon as possible.
The streets of Gynka on the day of the explosion.
Marley had been patient, she didn’t leave a note or send word the day he left her naked in his bed. She lies in wait, there could be no doubt in Leland's mind. He needed her for her precious information and she would make him pay a detestable price. He'd let his ambition roam a little too far. At times like this, he walked the city. Not wanting to stray too far from the safety of the Harbor District, he kept close to home but not near the Portmaster's house.
That's when he heard the explosion, one that swept through the city like thunder. Judging by the sound it was near Marley's house, and despite the voice telling him not to concern himself, he was sprinting in that direction. Currents of people either going to or from the blast made passage near impossible. He took to the rooftops, swinging up a post of a nearby canopy. He didn't put his agility and acrobatics on display often to keep attention low, but when he did, he loved the thrill and rush. He scampered and scaled a nearby balcony, kept low enough to miss the pin-roller aimed at his head by a female onlooker.
Like a monkey you might see in the jungle or travelling caravan, he went from balcony to balcony until he reached an unoccupied dwelling and was able to make it to the roof unimpeded. From there, he leaped from roof to roof with people too distracted to yell and call for the guard. Down an alley he knew would be unoccupied he slid down a pipe for water runoff. The alley was closed off from the street, a private area for merchants to pass from shop to shop without getting wares stolen. He knew where their guards would be stationed and knew at the other end he could climb a wall to get to the street that had a clear view of Marley's house and the harbor.
Unopposed he executed his plan and landed on the other side. Today he wore his hooded dirty brown cloak, leather cuirass, brown trousers, and snug fit calf high leather boots. His haste dropped his hood. He quickly folded it back over his matted and tangled hair now forming into dreadlocks. He has a square jaw and high cheekbones, there is fire in his hair that mimics his intense brooding looks. At his side two daggers sat, one on each hip in sheathes.
One glance to Marley's house, then to the harbor! A boat smoldered in flames and smoked plumed and swirled high into the air. He went to the scene to listen, avoiding guards and obstacles to learn more.
SHIT ..SHIT ...SHIT was all she could thinking.
The world around her exploded into a fiery, smoking hell.
From the corner of her eyes she noticed the Man was hit by the blast, flying over the jetties into the harbor basin.
Without hesitation she did run past the chaos, removing her cloak in the run, jumping into the soiled water.
The flames of the smoldering ship illuminated the scene as her head breached the water surface.
Her eyes searched for a sign, peer through the smoke.
C'mon where are you ?
paddle in circles suddenly a piece of cloth hits her attention.
Taking a deep breath she started to dive - over her head still the fiery shine.
There ....
As fast as she could and her lungs allowed it, she reached the figure, grabbing him.
He was heavy, but she was well enough trained to breach the surface just in time, gasping for air.
With slow and timed moves she started to swim steady with the man towards a jettie with a ladder. Damnit how can I lift him up ? her mind circles as she did notice someone standing there looking idle at the scenario
She started shouting Help me , help me !! I need help here !
The man in the brown cloak turned, moving towards the ladder at the jettie.
Amber arrived, exhausted and with little strength left Help me lift him up !
The young man - she did recognize him - was the one she had seen as Masines arrived. He will be drown, but I am not. I will hunt you down like a dog if you do not help me - NOW !!
After a short moment of hesitation he used the ladder to grab the man, lifting him up to the jettie. Soon after Amber followed, vomit out some of the water with a disgusted face,
wiping with her wet arm over her face, afterwards.
She didn't even pay attention to the guy in the brown cloak as she starts to lean over the man she knew as Tyan Masines.
Her ear pressed on the man's chest she listend for a moment, then she just moved over to his head.
Her arms had a firm grip as she wrapped them under his arms and around his chest.
Now she felt the tribute she had to pay, her strength wasn't enough to gave him the pressure which was needed to let him vomit the water out,starting to breath again.
The cloaked Man did still watch as she hisses do the same as I did, go on ! I need to keep him alive !
He scratched his head, watching her intently, recognize her daggers.
With a lazy move he did as she asked , pressing the Man's chest with force Again ... Amber scowled
A heavy convulsive cough, and Tyan started to vomit out a mass of murky water ...
No one did even pay the slightest attention in the utter chaos, blood was spilled, screams overall.
Amber lifted her gaze to the sky GET DOWN - ARROWS she did shout out trying to cover Tyan's body with hers.
A jetty managed by another Portmaster came into the view, the source of all the commotion. Leland entered beneath the drape of low hanging ivy from a massive gateless limestone archway. One on either side to welcome and corral visitors into the district. He knew the Harbor Districts well, this was one of the more established jetties: high rising terraces with wrought iron balconies, eye appealing merchandise and entertainment, and exclusive open rooftop taverns and businesses to sit high atop the filth and vagrants of the city.
Moreover, Leland knew in a crisis like this the navy could embargo a port in about an hour, and the militia fully mobilized in less, thirty minutes. He figured it took him less than five to arrive, leaving him ample time to investigate, pick some pockets, and be gone before suspicious persons and aggressors were arrested or the rioting started. Breaking the peace and grand spectacles such as this were always matched with a brutal response by the town’s forces and guards. Peace was but a veil, a pretentious arrangement to ward off and disrupt plotting men.
Gynka with all its vices and scoundrels remained in constant flux, but the peaks and valleys of war and strife were nothing like the Albanian Kingdom or the Salkamaerian Empire. In those realms, civility was a play on a noble stage, a veneer for vanity’s sake. Uprisings were inevitable, Gynka spread more wealth; power; and liberty than any of the other two combined. Some corruptions within mortals, however, cannot be dissuaded or quelled. Piety, chief amongst the double-edged swords, had a side for discord and the other for unity. In the gods’ names or destiny demons fell but also, wicked men set to deceive could conspire to breed pestilence amongst their brethren.
The life blood of Gynka, trade, would not be thwarted by anyone or group, guards could be bought; officials bribed; but infringe on Gynka’s commerce and the guards weren’t alone in hunting you down. He’d learned long ago, watch the edges of large gatherings, if the masses are distracted see if anyone else guards their security or if competition lurks.
He sprinted toward the shoreline seeing a lantern post to climb for a better vantage. Leland’s stomach turned, a full scale skirmish had broken out in broad public. Innocents, in a panic, fled from the scene like rats on a sinking ship. There seemed to be only two active forces: a well armored crew nearest the docks and another force coming from the crowd. From the lamppost it was clear to see the force near the docks would eventually be overwhelmed. Whoever was against them had cloaked figures wading through the crowd to add to their numbers. The cloaked figures were in no rush, even as their fellow compatriots got eviscerated. Their actions made no sense to Leland, he was about to look for more answers when a townguard barked at him.
“Get down from their Leland and piss off, for Marley’s sake I won’t warn you again.”
It was Vernil’s voice, a friend of Marley’s rising through the ranks of the townwatch. He was a capable foe, someone not to be crossed, but Leland wasn’t ready to leave.
“Catch me if you can, Vern!” Leland challenged him.
Before he could respond or react Leland leapt toward a path of least resistance. Vern's indiscernible yell suggested he was giving chase. Vern was in full plated light armor and Leland felt confident he could out leg his pursuer. Upstream through a fleeing crowd Leland advanced toward the docks, with the heat of battle raging the crowd of bystanders grew sparse. Leland thought, so long as I don’t interfere, Vern would be at higher risk than me. He also had an ace up his sleeve, there was a hidden sewer drain that ended nearby.
Twelve feet before you got the ladder at the end of the dock- the one furthest from the scuffle- he reminded himself as he ran and bounced off fleeing bodies. He knew how to hit a person and disrupt their momentum but not his own. Too many times to count this technique had saved him from prison or worse fleeing through the streets of Gynka
“Get outta my way!” Vern bellowed, losing ground in the chase.
Leland laughed inside his head, too easy. The fighting had not spread this far yet. He reached a guardrail, leapt and perched, quick peek below from the sea wall’s edge, a ten foot drop with flour sacks and animal feed within leaping distance to the left. He whirled around to face and check on Vern. A woman and her child had been knocked down and a pair of assailants harassed her. One was on top holding her arms down, the other was taking her valuables- judging by her fine dress she had a degree of wealth. Vern had no choice but to halt his pursuit to confront the thugs.
With a smirk and a kiss to Ronagan, Leland pushed with his feet- aiming to his right, now- and fell backward with arms open to control his fall. Just the right amount of force and the back of his shoulders hit the soft landing. The momentum toppled him head over heels and he landed with only slightly teetering grace. One more glance to the sea wall and Vern was nowhere to be seen. Now to find some dead bodies, the easiest thing in the world to loot, before the peacekeepers showed up. Leland turned on his heel to face the chaos once more.
Nargun enters the scene in the form of a woman with a man in tow bubbling up and fighting against depths of harbor. She struggled to swim and pull the unconscious man along. Easy marks Leland thought to himself and watched, angling to come into her view.
She called upon him, he looked down the dock and then toward the main jetty and gangplanks. The battle raged but the cloaked figures from the crowd had not overwhelmed the well armed gang. Leland felt safe to help, an easy in, and soon he and the woman was trying to save none other than the man in the brown coat. If he helped save a wealthy man, a good payday he'd be owed. Without objection or hesitation he did everything he was instructed to do by the young woman, and as fate would have it the man spilled his lungs full of bay water.
The deed had distracted both the girl and himself, to the point Leland lost track of his surroundings, until he heard the call for shields and the woman yell about arrows! On instinct he looked to the sky confirmed the blot of volleyed arrows then shot glances around the end of the dock. There was nothing to use as a shield. His brain was on fire, the moment hung in the balance. Leland looked to the girl, she’d covered herself over the man! How important was this wealthy middle-aged man that the young girl would sacrifice herself!
He morbidly laughed words into his head. “Beauty shouldn’t die so young.”
With that, Leland did the only thing left, he launched himself at the pair and tackled them both back into the bay. Fortunately the gods had blessed him with a sailor’s strength and tremendous speed. Down into the waters they went but he did not lose grip on either, he felt how his body entered and knew which way was up to the surface. He tugged the woman to coax her in that direction then focused most of his strength and effort to get the man back up to the surface- hoping he didn’t breathe in another gush of water.
The way he guided the both it would have led them under the dock and safe from arrow fire.
Now what, to the sewer gate? Would the man regain consciousness? Would he want to re-enter the fray?
Yridia did ponder about the recent events, personal and around her.
Riniao's case did still trouble her deeply and the research in the Libraries didn't bear any fruit.
After some long prayers at Ushara's shrine a plan lingered in her head, but she needed to wait for Tyan's return.
She was worried about him, just a nagging feeling, she couldn't shake off.
I hope you are safe and my friend is watching over you Tyan she mumbled whilst brewing some tea.
Ushara had shown her the deep turmoil of Illarions earth - and as she did surprisingly met Azuros, her soulbrother, and a cute
little Druid named Caynwyn, there was no doubt - Illarion did need the Druids once more.
Azuros told her Merung was still seen sometimes and so she had send a letter, in the hope it would find him.
She was happy to get a message back from him after a while and that he was willing to met her and the others soon.
The most important decision was to form a new Guild - against the turmoil in this world and for the people in need.
So the *Druids of the Eternal Grove* was founded.
And then, there was the matter of Sammy.
He did recover from his poisoning well and she did promise to testify for him at the trial.
But one evening he did give her a basket ... inside most precious and beautiful flowers, shaped into heartform.
Adorned with two silver rings of the finest craftsmanship.
Her heart did stop for a second, she never had looked at him this way. He was one of her best, oldest friends.
It would hurt to lose him.
She mustered all of her courage and went to Galmair. Before she could say anything he did take her hand and said
I know you do not return my feelings. You still mourn the loss of your husband. But I wanted you to know about it. Let us be friends as before .. if possible ?
The weight of hundred stones lifted from her heart after his words, to hurt him with the truth was hard enough.
She left with the hope it can be managed, even if she would be not as often around as before, to make it easier for her old friend.
That beautiful basket should go to a woman worthy of your love my friend...
Last edited by Yridia Anar on Sat May 16, 2020 12:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
05th Malas 60, early night, Myra’s room in the Big Dreams orphanage
‘Just do it!’, Joron’s muffled voice could be heard as he was biting down on a thick piece of cloth.
A man broke off the arrowhead of the arrow which had pierced Joron just under the left shoulder and then swiftly pulled the arrow from his body. Joron bit down on the cloth and suppressed a scream of pain. Myra was staring at a preliminary list of casualties, but she was not reading any of the names. She knew which of her men and women had been with her at the docks and she knew which of them had perished there. She was staring at the list reliving the moments before, within and after the battle, trying to make sense of it all.
After the ship had exploded, a hard battle had ensued. Myra and her people had been surrounded from the start, as cloaked figures attacked them from the direction of the jetty and from within the crowded streets as well. The reason to blow up the ship, Myra thought, must have been to show power, to cause a distraction, or to kill the one man they had been attempted to transport to Illarion. Some of the men who had attacked Myra had been driven by an unnatural rage and had not been flying Unkempt colors. Myra wondered if the Unkempt and the illusive Mage Hunters might have been working together. Maybe they knew about the traitor in their ranks, the witness Tyan wanted to bring to this place called Illarion, but they could not make him out amongst all the other passengers boarding the ship. By blowing the whole thing up, he was sure to be dead.
Kill the witness, show power, and cause a distraction to start the battle – three birds with one stone. Yes, that might have been it.
At some point during the battle, the town guard had arrived at the scene. At the docks, most of them were paid by some rich merchants who valued profit over everything and did not really care for Thieves Guild or other parties’ quarrels if it did not impede their business. A whole ship blowing up and taking half the jetty with it was sure to be unprofitable. Using mostly pikes, the town guard had killed several fighters from both sides before everyone had fled in different directions back into the streets. Myra’s people had suffered the worst losses of the whole event, though, and she was deeply troubled.
‘You are lucky’, the man who had pulled the arrow from Joron’s shoulder said. ‘I don’t think it destroyed anything vital. A potion, clean bandages and rest will heal the wound in no time.’
‘There is no time for rest, man!’, Joron shouted. ‘Myra! We have too fight back! We have to find the bastards and kill them all!’
Myra didn’t look up from her list. ‘We also have to find Tyan.’
‘Screw Tyan’, Joron responded. ‘This all happened because of this stupid witness.’
Myra glared at Joron now and the whole room fell oddly silent. Joron swallowed.
‘You are speaking from rage and pain’, Myra began. ‘It’s not like you saying stupid things like this. This wasn’t just about Tyan’s witness. And we are not abandoning our own.’
Myra inhaled. ‘He can be an ass, but you know damn well that if you were missing and he was here, he’d already be out on the street bashing in heads and looking to find you.’
Joron averted his gaze and looked to the floor. There were spots of blood on the wooden planks there.
During the moment of silence, a huge man entered the room. His blonde hair completely shaved safe for a long ponytail, his skull and face tattooed with strange and foreign symbols. Dark ink was smeared around his piercing blue eyes and running down his face. He was wearing crude leather armor, exposing his muscular body which was littered with similar symbols and runes as his skull was. Strapped to his back was a large two-handed falchion. Everyone in the room knew him. He did not have a name, but was only known as The Man. He had most likely once been a warrior and raider from the high north of Norodaj, but today, he was Salinger’s personal bodyguard.
Said leader of the Thieves Guild in Gynka entered behind The Man, followed by a third man in plain clothes and featuring a craggy face and a well kempt beard, who might as well have been some noble-man by the manner he was holding himself. Some of Myra’s men were staring at the third man in fear, completely ignoring the sight of the huge Norodaj warrior. The man with the craggy face was of course Etienne Garnier, a former spymaster of a noble at Albar’s Royal Court, Salinger’s spymaster nowadays, and known to most people in Gynka only as The Vivisectionist.
Salinger extended his arms and walked past The Man. ‘Myra!’, he said.
‘Myra, I am relieved you are alive.’
Myra got up from her chair, walked around her table and towards Salinger. She bowed her head ever so slightly to him.
‘I am. Many of my warriors are not.’
‘You mean my warriors’, Salinger said.
There was a feeling of unease spreading through the room and some might have seen The Man twitch, his one hand moving slightly closer towards behind his back and towards his weapon.
‘I apologize for not informing you about my operation. I didn’t think it would all go to hell’, Myra responded.
‘This is why you leave the thinking to us, girl’, Etienne Garnier interjected, but was swiftly shut down by a gentle movement of Salinger’s hand.
‘Now now, my friend’, Salinger turned his head to his spymaster. ‘Myra has been a responsible and productive branch leader and we all make mistakes.’
He then turned his head back to Myra, glaring at her darkly. ‘And she knows she has made a mistake.’
‘I do. It won’t happen again’, Myra said.
After a moment of silence, Salinger began to smile broadly and clapped his hands together loudly. ‘Good! That settles it then!’, he said and began to walk around the room, speaking words of encouragement to the wounded.
Etienne walked up to Myra. ‘Despite your impudence and blind stumbling in this matter, you have created an opening for us’, he said.
Myra raised a brow. ‘You sure know how to flatter a girl, Garnier’, she teased him.
The spymaster’s expression did not change one bit.
‘We have been monitoring a connection between the Unkempt and a group dedicated to hunting down mages for some time now. The latter group has been growing in strength considerably over the course of the past year’, he continued to explain.
‘It’s a shame we couldn’t take some of them hostage’, Myra murmured.
‘Worry not. The town guard has taken some prisoners, some of which have already miraculously perished in prison. I’ll make sure some of them are transferred into our care, alive.’
Myra nodded. Better to die in prison than to be handed to The Vivisectionist, who did earn his name interrogating people, she thought. It was a strange thing, to be sorry for your enemies because your own allies could be so profusely cruel.
‘What are you thinking about?’, Etienne asked Myra as if reading her thoughts.
‘War’, Myra said and straightened herself. ‘All of this smells like war to me, Garnier.’
It was one of the rare moments Etienne Garnier would smile. He was looking forward to this. ‘On this we agree, Myra of the docks. There will be war.’
Time does not matter here, a lonely road in the countryside
One wheel rolled over a large stone on the road and rocked the whole cart. Tyan’s eyes flung open. Before he could see, he was struck by the sweet smell of rot and the buzz of flies around him. He blinked against the light of the sun. No, not sun – suns. There were three, one large and two smaller ones in the sky.
Tyan coughed up some blood and looked left and right. He was on a cart carrying corpses. He was able to move his head, but not any of his limbs as if in sleep paralysis and terror overcame him. He flung his head left and right and for a moment, he felt as if he knew some of the faces of the dead around him. They stared at him with pale open eyes, their mouths screaming silent screams of fear and pain at him. It was the faces of some of the people Tyan had killed.
Amidst the bizarre scene, a grey rider came into view. The rider was traveling alongside the cart on a plain mare and the rider’s face was covered under a thick grey hood. A male voice pierced the sound of the country and the wheels of the cart on the rocky street. The voice was not that of the rider, but likely of the cart driver. Tyan was not able to look at him, as he was unable to turn his head in that direction.
‘Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?‘, the male voice began to recite a poem in the old language. The voice was not unpleasant.
‘Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind‘, the voice continued. Tyan, apparently knowing the words by heart, continued to recite with the cart driver in unison.
Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.
My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?
Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?
My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain.
The poem continued for a while as Tyan stared at the three suns with eyes wide open. They were not burned by the light, somehow.
The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.
‘Dead, dead, dead..’, Tyan’s and many other voices seemed to echo through the land as he poem concluded. Now, the rider turned her head towards Tyan. She had no face at all, only plain, grey skin and Tyan still recognized her. ‘Grey Mother..’, he said and wanted to extend an arm, but was unable to. Without a mouth, she smiled at him. ‘Shhh’, she said. ‘It won’t be long now.’
When Tyan’s eyes flung open next, he was standing on a field. There was apparently nothing left and right. He looked to the sky and made out only one sun barely visible behind thick dark clouds. There was a thunderstorm in the distance, occasionally lighting up the sky. I am dreaming, Tyan thought. It must be a dream. He was standing in a grassy field but was somehow certain this was Cadomyr. But Cadomyr was in a desert. In dreams, one could see one thing and feel another. He felt this was supposed to be Cadomyr, but at the same time it was not.
Tyan looked ahead. There was a tree, of many, one. A woman clad in armor was standing next to it. He wanted to call out to her, but no sound emerged from his mouth. The woman took off her helmet, revealed her blonde hair, and idly dropped the helmet to the ground, seemingly defeated. Then she sunk to the ground dead, as if cut down by some invisible weapon. Tyan wanted to scream and run towards her but was stuck in place. He heard the familiar voice of the women, but it was coming from his mouth of which he had no control over now. Were they her words, were they his words? Whose words were they? Were they referring to people, or to places? Were they uttering in the future, or words of the past?
But there’s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look’d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Tyan was slapped across his face. ‘Wake up you fool’, the man across the table said. Tyan’s eyes were wide open.
‘What the smile, man?’, he said, rubbing his cheek. The man across the table grinned and leaned back in his chair. Through the window of the tavern he was now suddenly in, Tyan saw a cart move past and it was followed by a grey rider.
‘You’ll have to make this quick, I fear’, the man across the table told Tyan.
‘Make what quick?’, Tyan asked, not paying any more attention to the cart.
‘You people are usually full of questions. I think we have time for exactly one’, the man responded before taking a large sip of ale.
‘Uhhm’, Tyan began.
‘Don’t make this weird’, the man said.
Tyan frowned. ‘Alright. Let’s start with something simple. Where the hell are we?’
The man grinned. ‘In a very special tavern.’
‘That’s it?’, Tyan said. ‘That is your answer?’
‘Ah ah ah, I said one question. No more time. Drink!’
‘I don’t want to drink.’
‘Oh, I think you do’, the man told Tyan. Tyan lost control over his hands and grabbed the large mug filled with ale in front of him. He moved it to his mouth and began to drink. The man grinned at Tyan all the while. Tyan drank and drank. He wanted to breathe now, but he could not stop drinking. The cup never emptied. Tyan’s eyes were flung wide open in terror as he was literally drowning in ale. Shortly before he would pass out, the man across the table waved his hand at Tyan.
‘So long’, he said.
05th Malas 60, shortly after the explosion, Gynka, the docks
He puked up huge amounts of harbor water before Tyan could make out the face of a young woman who was leaning over him. She was screaming something to someone else, but Tyan was still too disoriented to make out any words or even his own whereabouts. Suddenly, the woman was pushing her body against him, blocking his view. And before Tyan knew it, some force pulled him from the dry ground and back into the water, filling his throat with the murky harbor water once again.
Leland kicked to the surface, legs burning, rippling fire beneath a cool surface; he held his breath to ascend faster seeking cover under the dock. His will would not be broken, hopefully the woman wasn’t too disoriented to assist. Nothing mattered other than getting to air. Every precious second counted. The man was so damned heavy, weapons; personal effects; and willing the woman to match his effort and the direction he coursed.
Time defied reason, like watching light bend at an odd angle through clear water. Even the elements stand at odds with one another, so too does peace and chaos. Time simply wasn’t the same under different circumstances. They couldn’t be more than a few feet underwater but felt like a mile. Gods love determination, the struggle, our virility on display— or never grow tired of our futile entertainment. Swarming ants over a mound of earth, who do they choose to favor and when to intercede?
Across his chest and under arm, Leland used the might of his right arm to secure Tyan. With his left, Leland fought the water viciously to the rhythm of his churning legs. His muscles screamed to resist the drag. The effort, finally, was rewarded as they broke the plane, and his eyes could assist. Splashing water to the sounds of distant steel, wailing men, then the showers of hell rained. Through the pain of personal struggle, a new sound— akin to hail— beat the surfaces above. In its wake a surge of guttural agony broke out across the battlefield.
Chance mixed with mortal hatred doth feed demons. Some live, some die, and those left rage and wage on. After the volley, the battle nearby lessened to the sounds of retreat. Further in the distance horns rang and the faint echoes of another conflict stirred. Meanwhile, Leland found a pillar from the pier to cling upon and searched his female companion’s eyes, his were of the sky with particles of blue so light they favored a hint of the clouds. Water droplets painted his stubbled face, the dreads and tangle of dulled copper and cinnabar hair amassed atop his head and fell thick on either side into the shadowy depths. Youthful, taught, skin and lines marked the chiseled structure. Thick brows akin to his hair, made the eyes all the bolder. Poised lips held no expression, everything denoting the seriousness and weight of the moment. If you looked further, the scalded flesh up his neck looked as if some fiery hand attempted to choke him long ago.
The undulation of the tide rose and fell; all the while, Leland insured Tyan’s face did not go beneath the surface. As his eyes searched the woman his words came urgently in a hushed tone— hopefully only loud enough for her to hear.
“Help me, there is an open drainage pipe.”
Leland gestured with a tilt of his head toward a looming umbrage about ten feet away, never letting his eyes off the woman.
His reaction took her by surprise. Before she even could do anything she got tossed into the foul waters again.
After regain control of herself she reached very fast the surface, filling her lungs with needed air.
Now the painful training, she had to master the last couple of years, payed off.
Her agility did help a lot to keep her head above water, horns and chaos still reigning further away, though she got weary.
Over the water wafts the mist of all the fires, didn't make breathing a simple task. Her throat felt rough and sore
as she reached finally the pillar where he was clinging, still with Tyan in his grip, he showed already signs of life.
His blue eyes somehow struck her, even if she did immediate shake off any sort of interest.
She did also notice the scalded mark on his neck, storing it as a note for later.
Her face did show no expression either, just a stern will to get here out alive, as she heard his voice and giving him a scant nod, grabbing Tyan as well
on his legs . Her brown eyes did squint at the loomage as she spoke a few words with a raspy voice
Lets get outta here
With joined efforts both managed to reach the opening, but also on the end of their tether. Crawling into the scruffy, but dry space, laying Tyan in a sort of
convenient postion, she did just fall on her back, closing her eyes.The colour of the wet short and uneven cut hair was hard to get, probably a dark chestnut.
Her brown tight-fitting leather armor, soaked with grubby water from the harbor, did still offer her feminine, but rather dainty, features.
But also the weapons are shown, and she had a lot of them overall on her body. Daggers, rope darts, short kukris and shurikens - this woman was a walking weapon itself.
The young man got a dangerous glint in his eyes, making a little move towards her - a lissome afoot and her face was direct before his, eye to eye,
a razorsharp tip from a dagger on the side of his throat. Her whisper was even sharper Don't -- even -- think -- about -- ...
Last edited by Amber Sorell on Thu Jul 02, 2020 11:55 pm, edited 4 times in total.
At some point when the panic and aftermath of near suffocation had passed, Tyan realized he was being pulled and dragged through the water. His reflexes kicked back in and he assisted whoever was pulling him by moving his legs and one arm as much as possible, creating uplift. More than one person was assisting him in the water and Tyan only moved his limbs where he would not impede the aid given to him. He was not panicking now – he remembered his days at sea and the many close calls when fighting one or the other foe had blessed him with a considerable amount of control when faced with difficult odds or chaotic situations.
Soon he was given a final push towards a drainage pipe and held on to it before pulling himself out of the water and into the filthy metal tube. There, he coughed up some more harbor water before rolling over to lie on his back, staring at the rusty and mouldy tube above. He heard other people pull themselves into the tube and took a few deep and controlled breaths to bring down his pulse. It was in that moment when he heard battle above and came back to his senses. He had to enter the fray!
Tyan tried to push himself up, only to feel a piercing and burning sensation in his left arm. Eyes open wide, he stared at the origin of the painful sensation. His left forearm had been severely burned; the wool sleeve of his tunic completely scorched away. A portion of burning but not yet evaporated Gynk Fire must have been flung at him when the explosion had occurred and him hitting the water was the only thing that might have saved his life altogether.
Since burn wounds caught infections very easily and he had just bathed in dirty harbor water and was now inside an old dirty drainage pipe troubled Tyan, to put it mildly.
‘Shit’, he said to himself before raising his head to look at the people in the pipe with him.
The face of the young man was somehow familiar, the young woman Tyan had never seen before in his life. What's more, they seemed to be at each other's throats right now. The woman had even drawn steel and was pushing it against the guy's throat. Just my luck.., Tyan thought to himself and moved a hand towards where his sword would be. It was not there. It was on the bottom of the harbor now most likely. He inhaled. One of them had used her body to shield him from a barrage of arrows, the other had made damn sure he would not drown. Why?
‘Who the hell are you people?’, Tyan managed to ask and coughed up some more water.
“I was simply gunna see if that was yer blood or his,” Leland spoke carefully with doe eyes. Those same eyes had just begun to convey his meaning when Tyan cut the tension off at the pass. Leland eased away from the cold steel at his throat. What the hell was he thinking? His mind raced, why would he give a damn if this perfect stranger was bleeding or not?
He was lying to himself, her toned physique in contoured leather and particular choice in weaponry had peaked his interest. They were all drenched head to toe in murky shadow, but Leland knew blood when he saw it. A sliver of daylight through the pipe mouth had cut across her revealing the familiar sheen. Quick deduction hinted that Tyan could be the source of the blood as he favored his left arm, now sleeveless and kissed by fire.
With a sigh Leland figured he needed to try and defuse the situation, he held up an index finger to caution and pause the woman’s scathing look, in the hopes of being allowed to speak. Pleading eyes of urgency kept on her just for a wisp before they fell to Tyan to answer smoothly and calmly in a low tone.
“She asked for m’ help as she pulled yeh from the bay.” As he spoke the finger went down and both hands opened into wide palms and fingers— spread out to the sides to mean no harm. The rest of his body did not move, only his eyes. Those bright sky blues darted between the woman and Tyan hinting at their connection.
“I’m no man to decline a fair lass in need, but call me a fool, I daresay, ye might not be akin to ‘ehr but she certainly is akin to you mister. Friends call me Dread or Lox, by and by.” Prone to be quick lipped, Leland delays only briefly for his words to sink in before continuing.
“Alas, yer in marginal health now, and I don’t see any thanks come’n from her, so we best be off. I know an exit away from tha skirmish. No trouble, no trouble at all. Small guide’s fee and we’ll be outer here in no time. Trifle of a fee really, no need to risk infection wander’n through tha sewers or back out there. All is fair and I’ll do what ya say mister, good to my word. Whattya say?”
“Tyan Masines” wrote:‘You need directions, mister?
He did little to hide the same inquisitive look from the docks days earlier. Only this time, the look touched the edges of a smirk.
She let disappear the blade with a tiny move, paying attention to Tyan.
Her voice still raspy, she answered his question in a calm way, her body tensed towards the other guy.
It was clear should he make a move she didn't like, her reaction would be fast and deadly.
What's in a name Masines ? Hollow words, nothing more. You have nothing to fear from me, the opposite even.
I'm bound to a life debt sworn by my father and I will honour it to the end. He would've done it by himself, but he died some months ago. she paused for a moment You must be quite valuable. The description of you was precise and also was the order to watch over you, 'til you leave Gynk.
You'll have my back from the shadows, if you wish to enter the fray. But lets take care of this nasty wound before.
Then she went silent, reaching out her hand to help Tyan on his feets.
ooc: A quick disclaimer and placeholder. The story taking place here is now some month in the past, offering Tyan enough time to return from his trip. The story will continue and conclude here, but I will take Tyan back ig in the present timeline as well. This has been arranged and agreed upon by all the POs involved.
))
