[RP] Black and Blue

[Mariana Xiechai]

[Going off of what Rigwyn posted earlier about writing up our encounters with him, I thought I'd just put up this quick write-up I did of the exchange. If it doesn't fit with the flow you're welcome to delete it, as the encounter is somewhat...different than the others, but I think it puts an interesting "human" light on the dastardly Diaboli that I found most interesting through the course of the RP'ed conversation. Enjoy.]

A group of travelers were resting their feet upon the marred and dirty tables of the tavern, varnish worn away by cycles of ill use. Idle chatter consisting of the importance of life and of death came as a quiet din in the air; murmured words of casual observer and devoted philosopher each, the unique and opposing viewpoints occasionally causing the louder punctuation of impassioned support or disapproval.

Icerra, the mostly lucid but typically questionable kore, raised her paw and flippantly waved it in the air to illustrate her ultimate detachment from the debate. Or, more accurately, a lack of consideration for any form of rebuttal.

“...you gotta earn yer death, or else it's meaningless,” she announced, with an assured finality that depicts a devote bias to one's statement.

The Diaboli listening to the statement nodded once to show he was in agreement, or at any rate that he was taking the cordial approach to actually listen to the words being spoken by the fenki. “I remember hearing sentiments like that when I was a child. The folks who surrounded me spoke of death as a gift... but only a worthy death.” He shared his own experiences, blended them in, and found them for the most part harmonious, like a tuning fork struck lightly against a piece of polished wood.

From another corner of the room, a klyros looked up from her scholarly occupation of reading and squinted in a show of mild reproach for the all too questionable statement. Though currently branded as a self-functioning introvert and having no intention at all to besmirch the label, the woman spared herself the chance to raise her voice slightly above its typical decibel to throw in her two cents, whatever they may be worth or however they may be weighed.

“Earning your own death,” she mused, skirting around the idea. “Hm.”

Pleased that her statement had been affirmed by mutual agreement, Icerra smiled in the fiendish way for which she was known, fangs born so that the expression was almost a sign of subtle hostility. Her intense eyes, deepened due to the greased black paint that she lined them with, took on a sort of eager glimmer. “Exactly. A worthy death, an honorable death. They got no honor.”

Finally feeling that it was time to make herself known to the two holding the discussion, Evirea flapped her wings to stir the air around her slight and pensive form. “Death is death, kore,” she said. “Your death, when it is the end, is the end. Nothing worth seeing lay beyond.” Intoned with a certain softness rendered by her somewhat mousy behavior, the comment still rang with its own form of conviction.

Upon hearing this, the Diaboli took it upon himself to join the klyros woman at her table, casually drawing the chair out and lowering himself into it. He fixed his eyes upon her, framed by the greasy and neglected dreadlocks lining his head, the smell of body odor wafting from him suggesting that personal hygiene was not on the top of his list when it came to matters of greater import. And, as per anyone's usual reaction to such an imposing figure, Evirea quieted, and uttered a subdued and hesitant hello.

Icerra was speaking once more, ready to launch herself headlong at this chance to defend her most devout faith to her mother Dakkru. “The end is the greatest gift of all,” she replied, her chin coming up with a sense of great personal pride for her knowledge in the matter. She was, after all, dealing with one who was not enlightened as she, and if she had to shatter their preconceptions of how the world truly worked, well, all the better for it.

Flicking slightly widened eyes back to the kore, but keeping her peripheral firmly fixed upon the dark-skinned Rigwyn where he still sat leering in her general direction, she replied in a faint and unassuming whisper: “Then your life must have been a hard thing, s'sad, 's a sad thing, to hear it.”

Likely encouraged by her display of sheepishness, Rigwyn peeled back his lips to show his plague-encrusted teeth, offering up an insult to try and stagger the already retreating klyros into some form of submission. “You're an odd species,” he said. “Wings with little purpose at all...scaly skin...and an odd looking face.”

“Life ain't hard when ya know where yer goin'.” Icerra said. She seemed to lose interest at that point, perhaps sensing that her fellow patron had no interest in having her mind changed about the subject. She turned back towards the bar in a show of uncaring, ordering another beer to warm her belly.

Evirea, too, lost interest as Rigwyn's pointed words reached her. She turned her head back to him, eyes snapping in the way that suggests an anger reeling behind them. “My goal s'not to be aesthetically pleasing.” Her voice was still soft, her tone, reserved.

“I can see that wingy,” the Diaboli said, his impish smile still present on his grimy face. “Neither is mine.”

Head coming up in a display of defiance, Evirea made a point of looking down on Rigwyn, even though he surely was a full head and shoulders taller than she, even while seated. “Least I bathe regularly.” Indeed, the polished sheen of her scales gave testament to this little fact, though its relevance to the subject of this man's stench was somewhat blurry.

Letting out a booming laugh, he stood up, now dwarfing the klyros who was tiny by comparison. “You got me there,” he agreed, without the slightest bit of remorse or shame for his physical condition. “I call it Au Naturale.”

Evirea grinned slightly, revealing her own polished and pointed teeth, set shark-like in blue gums. The smile vanished as Rigwyn closed the distance between them and she shied away, skittering to the edge of her seat, her headfin lowering. His presence looming over her was more than enough to tear away the little self-confidence she appeared to have, and a tiny sound of fear caught fluttering wildly in her skinny and horribly breakable throat.

But the Diaboli did not lash out as his body language might foreshadow. Instead, he scoffed at her fear, and what might have been a faint disappointment flashed and receded on his visage. “You think less of me because of this?” He inquired, dragging a finger along a rather nasty looking gash that was present upon his cheek, the flesh slightly raised higher than natural and glaring as any such mark could be. “Figures.”

Momentarily floored by the display, Evirea could only utter a short, surprising word: “No.” He stalled in his motion to turn away from her, having assumed his point had been made, and glanced back to see a cheeky grin overtaking her features. “S'afraid of the breath that might come with those teeth. Dun wanna lose consciousness.”

Now his turn to be startled, Rigwyn threw back his head in laughter, showing better that mouthful of rancid and neglected molars. “That's the one good thing about you wingy folks,” he admonished, disproving slightly some of the racism he'd indicated not moments before because of the woman's show of mettle. “You seem to speak your mind.”

The comment elicited an uncharacteristic giggle, and with sage like wisdom she replied: “S'easy for you to say, greasy. You do the same. S'not that different, just because you've skin smooth and black.”

And what a truth there is in that. For all of the differences set between them, at their heart were they not so very similar? Did not it beat in a somewhat identical rhythm? Did not the synapses of their minds fire in reaction to pain, and panic, and contentment? Were their emotions, attached to conflicting ideals as the case may be, still cause the same passions and defenses that such feelings always provoke? Beneath the differing layers of skin, the muscles were mechanically alike, the ligaments held true to their intended purposes. The bones and the marrow within was chemically synonymous, and the blood that pulsated through their arteries served the same purpose in any case. Upon this notion, perhaps, there was a blissful moment of mutual cordiality between the pair.

Sadly, like most things in nature, harmony is far too easily shattered by a single thoughtless action, or purposeful reproach.

Placing a meaty finger upon the book she had been previously reading, Rigwyn inquired, “What's this?” He watched as a violent reaction greeted his seemingly hapless inquiry, as she reached out to try and grapple it away before he could fully grasp the thing in his hand. An indignant squeak was uttered from her lips and she made dodges to try and deter his attention on the object, uttering things like, “S'nothing,” “S'not important,” and “S'just alchemy.”

But of course, such a deliciously extreme display of emotion was like honey to him, and he had to take it further to see how far he could push this new found object of amusement. So he snatched the book from her trembling fingers, easily enough as they were lithe and artistic things not made for keeping a harsh grip on anything. And he lofted it high above his head, delighting in the way the klyros hopped and jumped in an attempt to wrest his prize away from him and gather it back into the sanctuary of her arms. “N...no, please!” She exclaimed, and then further contradicted her previous statement by adding frantically, “S'important!”

A quick skim of the contents was enough to assure Rigwyn of just how dull and dry the little leather bound journal actually was, and he was probably disgusted at how much detail had been put into describing this list of painstakingly created alchemical recipes. Still holding his bait aloft, the man rushed out the door and into an alleyway, giddy with an almost euphoric joy as he heard the reassuring footfalls of the klyros behind him. Spinning towards her where they were now hidden from the public eye, he had just enough time to glimpse her jump into the air with a powerful thrust of her wings in an attempt to lessen the height just enough to reclaim her precious artifact.

Unfortunately for her, his arm was faster than her grasping fingers, and she found it smashing into her face hard enough to send her reeling back onto the ground. Before she could make an utterance of disapproval and rebuke him for the bestial action, he had hit her again, and she saw stars creeping into her vision just as his face drew closer and his lips whispered softly to her:

“Starphire.”

He dropped the rare, brilliantly blue and beautiful flower, and, too startled and possibly too bewildered to instantly react, she could only watch with steadily swelling eyes as the thing floated the short distance downwards and landed upon her chest. Doubtless she was now contemplating rather fervently the state of this man's social capabilities, if his idea of expressing affection to a girl was pummeling her and then offering her a flower.

They say brain over brawn is a sort of virtue. But in most cases, “they” are proven to be quite inaccurate, as usually no amount of brilliant coaxing can assure the learned figure a victory over an opponent with experience in how to swing a fist or slice with a blade. Rather, it should be more appropriate to guesstimate that only the right kind of brain can overpower the undeniable force of superior muscle. The sort of brain that knows how to make weapons that don't require a strong arm to wield.

The sort of brain that knows how to concoct a lovely solution whose effects are similar to highly concentrated hydrochloric acid.

And so, still in a fog from the abuse her rather fragile skull had just suffered, the terrified and probably somewhat disgruntled klyros reached into the pouch cinched 'round her waist, grabbed a vial of this nasty brew, and smashed it full on into the side of Rigwyn's face.

The reaction of his skin was really quite fascinating, as the acidic properties made quick destructive work of the epidermis and dermal layers. It bubbled painfully and caused the Diaboli to leap off of Evirea, screaming from this novel form of pain and gripping his face as he danced about shouting vehement obscenities at the woman.

“Y...you started it!” She screeched. Ah, vindictive justice. She held the flower's stem between index and thumb, watching him hop about and then take off careening away from her, still screaming at her in all manner of insults, most colorful. Staring down at the flower, baffled, she decided to chase after him and try to do something before the stuff ate a hole through his cheek. Most unpleasant.

After all, there was no reason to be overly cruel to the brute. Two hits to the face was hardly enough to warrant permanent maiming. Surely his affront was minimal when sized up to other even pettier crimes. And so, stuffing the flower into some pocket or other, Evirea took to her heels and chased after the man she'd just attacked, shouting at him to stop that, sit down, won't you? If you'd stop flapping your arms like that it wouldn't be so bad!

A single petal trailed after her in her wake. In light of the comic situation, the klyros had no inkling at all the fate she'd just narrowly escaped. The gravity of it had not pressed fully upon her shoulders, yet she'd still become a victim of this convoluted and devastating string of crimes.

Perhaps later she would come to understand just how nefarious that innocent flower truly was, for even in its loveliness, it stood for an animal-like violence that would make most with the normal amount of moral fiber shudder at the thought.

[Rigwyn]

[ Nice! That short RP was a lot of fun and the splash in the face with acid, a nice, creative surprise... I do hope to meet up with Evirea again.. though next time, he may be wearing a glass jar over his head xD ]

[Mogweh]

"Vikka Suunie"

Vikka Sunnie, bare knuckle fighter and head-hunter for the mob has been out of town for a while keeping his head down after a spot of bother he had over beating a Laanx priest near to death some time back. Now he is back in town and looking for some coin.

Not his usual gig, handing out flowers, but if that's what the powers that be want, he's not the kind of dwarf to argue. Besides, they are not the kind of people you want to disappoint, nor say no to.


Vikka's eyes narrow as he watches Sacho wander through the Arena. Then lifting the cloth scarf from around his neck up over his nose he picks up his war hammer and begins to follow. As he gets closer he runs up behind Sacho and thrusts the butt of his hammer at the back of the Menki's head, hard, attempting to knock him out.

Sacho quickly moves out of the way and turns to face his attacker. "What are you doing?"

Vikka drops his hammer and rushed up close to Sacho his fists up as he drives his knee towards Sacho's groin, "Paws up Menki" he mutters.

Sacho casts a flash of light in an attempt to distract the dwarf as he moves to attempt to dodge again. He extends his claws. "This is your last warning."

Vikka's breathing quickens and his eyes widen menacingly as he ducks down to avoid the spell and jabs at Sacho's throat, "'nuff chat, lets see what cha got"

Sacho's eyes narrow as he moves back and partly up the stairs to try to get some distance from the attacker. He positions his hands and claws as an experienced hand to hand fighter would. "So do you work alone or are you with a group?"

Vikka keeps the distance between himself and Sacho as short as possible following the Menki as he dodges, running forward and easily catching Sacho as he makes for the stairs. He swings again at the Menki's head, "no runnin' from ya fate, son" he puffs his face filling with blood

Sacho quickly moves to dig his claws from one hand deep into the dwarf's arm once he catches onto his cloths. "Ah, but you are already getting red." With his other hand, he moves to attempt a blow to the dwarf's head.

Vikka flinches as Sacho scratches his arm, ducking the blow from the Menki's next attack he steps forward and drives his knee once again at the spry Menki's groin.

Sacho jumps straight at the dwarf from the higher steps. The hit to his groin makes it's mark, but at the same time the Menki is now coming down on the dwarf. His claws move to attack the neck as he comes down to land on his attacker.

Vikka's breathing can be clearly heard now as his nose wrinkles and his mouth (from beneath the scarf) forms a viscous snarl as the Menki lunges at him. Vikka makes a grab for Sacho and twists his body so as the pair fall he is on top. Looking into the Menki's eyes he snarls, "Time for a night night kiss" and leans into bite at his cheek.

Sacho's claws lay against the dwarf's throat. "Stop, or I will bleed you." His other arm lays in a defensive posture to block any possible attacks.

Vikka makes a grab for Sacho's wrist as he feels the claws at his throat, lifting his head back he snarls, "can ya muvva sow? Tell 'er ta stitch this" and drops his forehead down towards the stubborn Menki's face.

Sacho digs into Vikka's neck with force as Vikka pulls his claws out of his neck. Then the head butt makes its mark with a crunch and Sacho goes limp.

Vikka puffs furiously as he leers over the unconscious body of the Menki, blood runs freely from his throat and he shakes his head, clearly stunned from the clashing of heads. Getting to his feet he looks down and gives Sacho a kick in the stomach, "Nonce!" he snarls.

Vikka pulls out a crumpled Starphire flower from his jacket and holds it over Sacho for a few moments, as if trying to make a decision. Finally, he says, "Yeah, you get a flower"  and lets it fall onto the Menki's still body.

Sacho starts to stirs slightly.

Vikka looks about himself sharply as Sacho stirs, then rolling a shoulder he runs out of the arena, puffing heavily as he goes.

[Aramara Meibi]

a three part effort between Karlyle Player X, Rigwyn, and myself. please to enjoy.

Icerra

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A small hand slick with crystallized honey and matted with a thin layer of grime gripped a home made piece of candy. The child's face was equally smudged and in need of a wash, though that was not about to happen any time soon. Enjoying the shade of the crawlspace beneath the townhouse, he sat and sucked as the glistening juices ran down his hand and wrist.

The gentle brush of furry feet was barely noticeable, likewise the kore's breath was restrained and silent, though a reflective flash from her falchion caught his eye - prompting him to peer though a crack.  His gaze traveled from her blade to her head as he shifted to his knees and leaned against the wooden thatch with a boyish sense of curiosity and wonder. Liking what he saw, he smiled.

Her demeanor changed, but he was too transfixed with her appearance as he wondered what her voice might sound like. He tried to fix his hair - making a comb with his fingers, but stopped as he saw a taller figure approach. Placing his candy atop a large green leaf, he laced his fingers within the wooden thatched partition as the azure sun shown in making angular rays of dust that painted a checkered pattern upon himself and the dirt upon which he knelt. He looked back as his candy, then picked it up once again and slowly peeled the leaf off it  - unaware of the quiet exchange of words and commotion that had taken place. Hearing a rustle, he turned back to peer though the grate.

Smack!

Terror seized the lad as he recoiled - his eyes widened, his jaw lowered behind lips that opened just enough to breathe. He saw the fenki fall from beneath the cloaked figure's elbow; her body slumped to the ground with a gentle thud. A small knife flung from her paw and skittered across the small courtyard into an adjoining fence. A single tear slid from his eye as his lips quivered at the sight. He breathed in deeply and involuntarily, then slapped his hand over his own mouth as panic set it. Riddled with fear, and emotionally torn at the sight of such violence, he leaned away from the grille and continued to watch - praying to Talad that he not slip up and make as sound.

She was still alive! He watched as they wrestled and fought, the woman fighting fearlessly despite the Ynnwn's size. The hulk seized her by the arms and tied her paws together at the wrist. The boy cringed as she headbutted the horned man, then swallowed hard, seeing that the Ynnwn's head appeared to be stonger - that or she got hurt on one of his horns. Their exchange of words went in one ear and out the other - he was overwhelmed with what his eyes had seen; The talk of her breaking someone's arm made him wonder if she was really good or not..

Seeing the horned giant disarm her and slip away, he crept further beneath the building, then curled up next to an old filthy sack - terrified of what might happen to him if found, too frightened to help the fenki as she bled unconsciously, slumped against the courtyard wall.

---::{/^\}::+::{/^\}::+::{/^\}::---

A blur. The world was a ringing, stinging blur. Pain. It had been ages since she felt it.

Along with the stale taste of blood, there was something in her mouth. With a wince, she opened her jaw and let it fall, softly, to her lap.

With a stiff neck and aching back she lifted herself off the stone wall of the courtyard, an effort made difficult by paws bound behind her back, and the congealed blood which stuck to the wall and pulled the matted hair from her beaten and swollen face.

She had failed, failed to die. She was a disgrace, not worthy of Dakkru.

She fell on her side, falling briefly into shock from the pain of the knife wound on her arm hitting the pavement, exposed flesh, muscle, and bone, the trickle of fresh blood. With a groan, she tucked into a ball and slipped her paws down, around her legs and feet. Still bound, she would need to cut them free. She felt for her falchions but they were gone, as were her collection of knives and shivs usually tucked comfortably in the waist of her shorts.

What had she done to deserve this? Was it because she had lost possession of that poisonous knife? Was it because she had failed to unlock the secret of that poison? Was it because she had failed to discover the killer's identity? Apparently HE was worthy, for Dakkru wanted him dead. She should be so lucky.

As she felt blindly around the courtyard her paws came across something thin, fragile, soft. It was the object that had fallen from her mouth, placed there by her attacker after he had beaten her senseless. A flower. A flower. Her jaw clenched, as did her paw around the delicate blue blossom, crushing it within her steel-plated gauntlet. Her pounding mind raced to the conversation she had overheard before at Kada's; the Ynnwn who attacked her had been given a security position at the Red Crystal Den, to stop the recent string of attacks on barmaids and patrons. Hadn't Dannae's attacker left her with a flower?

Icerra stuffed the crushed blossom into her pocket and slowly, painfully lifted herself to two feet. She stumbled out of the courtyard and through the small plaza of Upper Hydlaa, lined with guild houses. She felt her way with paws still bound, eyes swollen shut, down the back alleys familiar to her until she found a dark, quiet spot in which she could lick her wounds.

She'd confront Dannae with this revelation; the Ynnwn was a fool to leave such a calling card behind, and now it would lead him to his demise. Dakkru would smile upon her yet, once she delivered the bastard to Her.

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[Rigwyn]

As the wind ripped past his ears, Rigwyn whippped along the twisted road – passing the junction that led to the magic shop. Seeing a sharp turn, he leaned into his driffter to bank the turn. Slapping Cepht on the side to prompt him to speed up as he pulled out, he shouted, "Hurry up ya piece of crap!"      Seeing a Fenki in the road, he pulled hard on Cepht's fins, and leaned to the side to avoid colliding. As he did, the fenki jumped onto the drifter – latching on to him awkwardly and causing both to roll from the unbalanced weight - dropping the two in the dirt as Cepht flew off – frightened by the ordeal.      With an indignant tone, Rigwyn shouted, “Damn Carpet! Whats wrong with ya!” - not yet realizing who she was. As he continued to berate her, she quickly leaped on top of him and knocked him to the ground. Holding her shield fast, she yelled, "I'm going to kill you!      Rigwyn 's expression changed as he began to recognize the face. In his mind, her name exploded, “Mishka!” Grabbing a roll of fur at her neck and the side of her cheek as he fell, they wrestled fiercely for the top.

     Having mangaged to get on top, Mishka slapped Rigwyn's arm away, then swung her heavy, steel shield at his face- smacking his head into the ground, and breaking his nose. His nose bled profusely – leaving a crimson smudge on his face and streams of red rolling down his cheeks as his vision faded, then resumed.

     Feeling his nose crack followed by a warm rush, Rigwn stared back at her, dizzied by the blow. Knowing how much damage that shield could do, he grabbed at Mishka's shield bearing arm and used his weight to roll her off.

     Her growl was depened and fierce. Determined to kick his ass, Mishka began to throw a series of hard kicks in the air, aiming for him. He could feel her strike his abdomen, then ribs as he struggled to grab her leg. Feeling it in his hands, he stepped in and gave it a hard sharp twist with every intention of breaking her knee.

     “Damn Gauntlets!” he thought.

     Leg slipping beneath the metal gauntlets, Mishka squirmed around and managed to free herself - leaving her shield behind. With a stagger, Rigwyn advnaceed with raised palms as a thick, twisted shadow began to emerge from his finger tips. It fled towards her like lightning as a fine bead of blood-twinged drool dangled and shook from his lip.

     Hitting her back against the rock wall, Mishka quickly shook her head , then began to cast a pillar of flames. They surrounded Rigwyn like a cage and burned yellow-hot – letting off a fierce burst of heat that was sure to boil him in his armor.

     With steel armor painted flashing orange from the the dancing, ambient light – highlighted with licks of yellow flame, Rigwyn reached out to see if it was just an illusion, then yanked his hand back as his flesh began to  blister and burn. Wiping his bloody face into his metallic sleeve, he closed his eyes to focus, then stirred up an azure breeze that swirled about and spread the flames away – but something went wrong.

     He knew better than to try to cast magic of an opposing way given his most recent commitment to mastering dark way. He could hear the voices of Oriven and Rulayne in his head - reminding him about the consequences of doing so, but he had little other choice. As the flame cylinder stretched and combined with the azure wind, Mishka bagan to cast another spell – this one solidifying the fire and giving it a hard, crystaline appearance. It looked fragile, like it could be shattered with a punch - but why would she do that? There had to be more to it.

     Confused by her red way magic – which he knew little about, he placed his palms close to the edges as if trying to get a feel for her magic, but it was beyond his understanding. Taking his adept staff from his back, he grasped it with both hands, then swung it like an axe – shattering the confining shell!

     Mishka covered her face with both arms as the wall began to shatter. Seeing huge angular shards of glass-like panes raining down with a crystaline chime, Rigwyn raised his arms to cover himself but it was too late.

     Huge, razor sharp shards came crashing down upon him. They tore into his flesh cutting at his wrists, joints, abdomen, face and ankles. Feeling blood rushing beneath his armor, he screamed - too paniced to cast a healing spell or for that matter, to shocked to think rationally. He could see the horified look on Mishka's face but could not move.

     She she observed the calamity – the effects of the wall of solidified fire collapsing, her eyes flew wide open while observing Rigwyn. She seems to calm down, unsheathing one of her swords slowly and approaching him saying:

     "Trust me when I do this, I'm doing you a favor...”

     Rigwyn quivered in his own mess as he watched Mishka approach. His body twitched - not so much from fear, but from the spasms of pain. His eyes widened as his muscled jerked involuntarily. Slowly, Mishka raised her long, slender sword over her head, then swung it downward with a quick blow at Rigwyn's neck. Staring back at her with black, glassy eyes that locked on hers, he hissed until the sword met his neck with a loud, wet thud.

     Having cut most of the way though, his head floped to the side as a stream of blood shot up into the air, then back down past Mishka. Slowly his world tiled over as his head flopped to the side - still hangin on by a finger thick strand of flesh. Within seconds, it all went black.

     Mishka covered herself with one arm, the bloody jet leaving a long stain across her armor as Rigwyn 's body flopped to the ground with a light thud. As Mishka stared down at the body, it continued to leak in smaller spurts – forming a pool beneath the neck. Finally, the motionless corpse faded away.

[Jilata]

As the Menki entered she didn't know where that would lead to. At that time he was a customer as any other. She greeted him, noticed his irritation and took his order. She didn't pay much attention to pouring the liquor. She was used to it already. Instead she made a mental note, that she would soon need to get more cider in Ojaveda. And she needed a new copy of the paper for the Den, because the one she had lying there really got mistreated. She couldn't use that anymore.

She answered a question to the culprit who destroyed the paper, turning back to the bar.

She got a coin handed in exchange for the drink. Her finger recognized the coin without her looking at it.

“Keep the change.”

She would be really in trouble if people like him didn't exist and tipped her. She really needed to get to talk with the managers about the prices.

Her gaze wanders to the guy who now turned the pages in an odd fast pace. She sighs lowly. “I guess I need to make a new copy for here anyway.”

Her attention gets drawn by the Menki who leaned on the bar. He looked around, looking at each person in turn before returning his gaze to her once more. After a moment thinking he asked her. "You must know people around town, am I right?"

Her thoughts began running, trying to figure out what the Menki was up to. She answered quietly, trying to phrase her words in a way, that he won't get uninterested nor get too high hopes. "Depends actually. I know my frequent customer. But there are still many people I don't know."

He leaned against his cane and takes an large mouthful of liquor. "I'm looking for the person responsible for the journal that has been circulating of late. I've never seen it before.. and I've been out of town for a while so I am not too familiar with the people here anymore."

There were still other customer in here, but that one was an interesting one. He looked into her eyes as she answered. A light laughter was carried in her voice, amused by the fact he asked exactly the person who wrote it. "The only journal I can imagine circulating here can be the one I wrote about the Masquerade Ball. As far as I heard there hadn't been any paper for a while before that."

The other mixed into it, Sanrai with an “Indeed” and the person who messed up with a question if she wrote it. She bowed her head, answering to the question at the same time trying not to upset him.
Mogweh looked her up and down. “You wrote? And now you tend the bar in The Den?" He glanced at the paper on the bar, tabbing the end of his cane with a finger, his brow furrowing a little.

She was curious. Curious about the Menki who came in here, asking about a journalist and then being surprised at the fact to find the journalist as a bartender. She moved a bit, somewhat posing at his examination. “Oh... well. Neither is my real profession. I am actually a merchant. Those two things is just something I tried to pass some time."

She smiled to Haraun who was just about to leave and wished him a good sleep and joked a bit around. But while that, her attention was still on Mogweh.

He took a breath and nodded. "I see. Well, it can't hurt in talking to you about what I came to say." He paused for the effect, then leaned forwards. “Double murder! Does that interest the journalist within you?"

He studied her face closely. She should give him some effect to see then. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened a bit, staring at him for a moment. Literally creating a shocked expression. It wasn't too far off from what she felt anyway. “Did you get killed as well?”

Mogweh touched his throat as he shook his head slowly and leaned a little further into the bar. "Not, I. However, two Fenki's in Gugrontid were slain and last night I spoke to another who was beaten. As far as I can make out by the same Ynnwn."

She reached up and pushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. The shocked expression vanished from her face. “Two Fenki's and a-” She noticed Sanrai's question, who was just about to leave and wanted to know if she would be alright. “I'll be fine. Thanks.” She added her usual phrase.

The Menki glanced over to Sanrai as she spoke, irritated by the interruption, but he said nothing and sipped his drink.

“Shall I leave the food?”

Telena nodded. “Would be fine. I'll eat a bit of it later. Can't stand the food Allelia sells."

Sanrai left with a last greeting and the Menki turned back to her. “Alone at least. Now, where were we?”

She returned her gaze to Mogweh, looking somewhat amused. “At the beaten people part.” She picked a mug up and started cleaning it to have something to do with her hands. “You said two Fenkis and someone else? Have any names?”

He took a sip of Liquor, nodding slightly and spilling a little as he does. “Mhmm, yes, Emmara Lurentse and erm a Fenki called Zalya. Both are members of the guild Gifts of the Dome. It is Emmara who has a clear description of the Ynnwn who killed her. Zalya... I am not sure."

A Ynnwn. Sanrai and Ketta were assaulted by a Ynnwn as well if she didn't mix that up now. "Huh... did he leave a flower behind by chance?" She looked at the mug, to see if it is clean everywhere.

He shook his head. “As to the beatings...” He started, then gave her a slightly surprised look. “So you heard about the flower? That is what the Fenki last night said. She was left a flower. However, I think if you had been murdered, the last thing on your mind as you wandered the Death realm is if you were given a flower.” He chuckled dryly and took a breath before continuing. “To my mind there seems to be a connection, the fact that they are all Fenkis. But, I could be wrong." He tapped the end of his cane with a finger.

She is pleased with how clean the mug is and puts it away to the other stored mugs. “That can't be. Two Dermorians were given a Starphire. That woman who was in here earlier and her sister. What I am not so sure about is if there is a connection to the murders where a Charmflower was left behind." She put the towel away she cleaned the mug with and instead took a coin out of her pouch to play with She circled it around her finger on one hand, watching Mogweh closely.

The Menki tilted his head. “Starphire. The assailant left a Starphire flower. You may be right, however the Ynnwn was spotted at least on two occasions, both by Zalya and Emmara. So that is a good place to start digging." He stopped himself then looked at her for a moment. “You are” He empathized that word. “interested, are you not? Or should I try elsewhere?" He watched the coin in her hand, a small smile came to his lips.

He knew something. And she was curious. She knew that she should leave her finger out of that, because it could get her into trouble. She smiled. “Oh.. I am interested. Though I don't want to get involved in that. Too much danger for a defenseless woman like me.” She flicked the coin into the air, her eyes drawn to its flight. "But I am not a journalist in that sense. I don't think I will write another newspaper."

Mogweh's brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. He took a large gulp of Liquor finishing the mug. "I see. Well I will continue my search elsewhere. Perhaps there is another who has the ... moral responsibility to pursue this matter."

What she wasn't sure about was, where his loyalties lied and what his intention was. And she was interested in that. She caught the coin and flicked the tria towards the Menki, aiming at his head. "Who said I am not interested? I am already trying to find out as much as possible about that. But I still have to look for my own safety. Why were you especially looking for a journalist?"

He caught the coin expertly in one hand, seemingly to pluck it from the air without watching. He smiled and again with ease send the coin dancing back and forth over the back of his hand. "I understood there to be a journalist, they like to seek justice and know how to look."

Telena took notice of how easy he handled the coin flying at him. He was trained in one way or other. It didn't really surprise her. "I do understand that. But as you might have noticed there is no journalist in this city currently." She looked shortly to the messy paper then back to the Menki. "That can hardly be called a newspaper. It simply covers one big event which happened. Though I can offer my help. I can't promise anything since I am new in this city and people tent to distrust strangers. Especially with this much crime around."

He flicked his hand in the air and the coin seemed to vanish. His expression showed mild astonishment then he pointed to her ear and reached slowly over towards it. "Well you have almost all the details as I know them. Perhaps you will turn this journal into something interesting after all. You have the eyes for it."

She watched amused the performed trick, raising an eyebrow. "You can't surprise me with coin tricks." She chuckled. "I have my ears open in here." She made a wave including the room. "There are three crimes strings. If they are connected or not, I am not sure. At least not with two. The third one seems to be a separate thing."

He nodded approvingly as she spoke and moved his outstretched hand a little and the coin appeared. He smiled and placed it on the bar. With one finger he pushed it over to her. He chuckled a little. "As the Menki said, 'Old habits'."

She smiled and picked the coin up. "The trouble comes with the writing actually. It consumes time, I could spend on talking and listening to other." She closed her hand to a fist around the coin, rubbed with the other hand the back of the fist, shook a few times. When she removed the hand from the fist, the coin lied on top of the fist. "It is not that it didn't cross my mind. A special paper for the Den to lure people in here. To get them to talk... But it is work..."

He nodded and looked fondly at her as she performs her trick. "But through adversity, the stars!" He mused and nodded approvingly as the coin shifted position. "So, to conclude our discussion. You have yet to ask me of the description of the Ynnwn. Emmara was quite clear on it. He used no mask, the blaggard. Which leads me to believe he is a silver tongued character who feels confident to walk among us."

She looked at the coin, then back to Mogweh. "So will you tell me about that Ynnwn?" She threw the coin a bit into the air, and caught it with two finger. "Maybe I know him." She placed the coin into the palm of her left hand, closing both hands to fists, holding them on the same height in front of her.

The Menki thought for a moment, stroking his beard with his hand. "Well if you do, exercise caution, from his not wearing a mask I think we can assume he feels confident to spin lies very easily and competently" Clearing his throat while he shifted his gaze from the beguiling demonstration of magic to her eyes he began in a serious and slightly clipped mode of speech. "He had a scar running from eye to ear." He drew the back of his thumb from his eye to his ear. He then continued to give a complete description of the Ynnwn.

She didn't notice the arrival of the other Menki, nor did she notice Mogweh's greeting nod to him. She had lowered her gaze, staring at her fist for a long while, not reacting in any way to the description. At least she didn't show any reaction. She knew that Ynnwn who had been described. But she didn't like that current situation at all. She started answering. “I-” She stopped, noticing Chraz as he spoke and smiled slightly at him. “Welcome...”

Mogweh continued to gaze at her, searching her face his eyes narrowing slightly. “I see.” He said gently, almost to himself.

“Uh... did you have a bar fight to resolve?”

She shook her head, regaining her usual smile. “No. Nothing was wrong.” She looked around. “They all left earlier.” She looked to Mogweh, extending both of her hands towards him. “Choose one please.”

The Akkaio continued to stare at her for a slightly uncomfortably long time. Eventually he glanced at the left hand before returning his gaze, looking deeply into her eyes, unblinking.

She sighed. It would have been right if she didn't trick him earlier. She turned the left hand to show that she is not playing a trick this time and opened her fist revealing an empty palm. "I thought you would know." Maybe he wasn't paying attention earlier. But right now the short time was all she needed to decide. She turned her other hand and shows the tria, lying in the palm of it. "I made up my mind. But what I can say, I want to say it alone. To explain all, it would be a long story..."

Chraz looks disturbed and left the Den.

Mogweh scratched his cheek and glancing around the empty bar. "We appear to be alone, and I have time. Please, continue." He taped his finger on the end of his cane his other hand touching the bar while he listened intently to Telena.

She stared at the coin in her right hand as she spoke. "His name is Karlyle. The co-manager of this Den. And the boyfriend of a friend who is very dear to me." She closed her hand to a fist again, hiding the coin. The movement was slow and careful as if to protect something dear. "I have known her for quite a few circles already. Traveled with her a while back." She looked back up to Mogweh. "Hurting him would mean hurting her as well. And I can't do that."

He repeated the name as he glanced to the coin, "Karlyle?" Suddenly he looked towards the door. "And could this Karlyle arrive at any time?" He said. His eyes raised at her comment. "Not taking responsibility could mean hurting a great many people. Including your "friend" and indeed yourself. You have a duty to them, yourself and indeed the Octarch by which we must all answer, to seek justice!" His voice raised slightly at the end as he insisted. He took a breath to calm himself. "Think of the victims as they lay dying, at his hand!" He said emphasizing the last words slowly and distinctly.

She narrowed her eyes barely visible for a moment when Mogweh talked about her friend. She then regained her calm. "Do you notice that I just got to know of who it was? For all I knew before, it could have been every Ynnwn who walked into the Den." She placed the coin on the table, placing one finger on it and pushing it towards Mogweh. She ignored the fact that Eonwind arrived. "You have a name, do what you want with it. If you leave my name out, it could save me some troubles later. I will talk with that Fenki if I ever get my hands on her. Or him." She looked at the coin then back to the Menki. "Still it doesn't explain if it is related to the Charmflower or not. And you have a problem if there is more than one." She withdrew her finger from the coin and looked quietly at Mogweh.

He ignored the coin, "A name indeed. I will of course not mention yours." He nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, I will take this name and deliver it to those that are a little better suited to this kind of thing." He turned a little to Eonwind and glanced him up and down as if to weigh his intentions before turning back to her. "Warn your friend, you owe her that much." He took hold of his cane firmly in his hand. "Now I will take my leave of you." Then glancing at the coin, "You have skill, don't throw it away in this place." He brushed an arm that held the cane readying himself to leave.

She smiled and picked the coin up. "I once decided to live the life I choose to live. I won't regret the decisions I make. Currently it looks like this place is one I fit. If you know of one more fitting, I am more than willing to hear about it." She chuckled lightly. "A bit late for an introduction actually, but it can be never too late." She made an elegant bow. "My name is Telena Rakn. Merchant of fabric, leathers and furs."

He nodded approvingly at her remark, ignoring Eonwind. "You know your own mind, that is good. My name is Mogweh, arms dealer" He gave her a courtly formal bow

"It was nice meeting you." She dipped her head. "I don't want to keep you, feel free to lea-" She stopped herself. "Oh the Charmflower incident has two culprits. Just so you know. As far as I know they still didn't get caught."

Mogweh smiled. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you do the right” He emphasized that word. “thing for your friends sake. Take good care Telena, I hope our paths will cross again soon, under a warmer circumstance." He bowed once again and briefly glancing at the other guests which arrived. "Gentlemen" He turned to leave the bar.

She watched Mogweh leaving and finally turned her attention to Eonwind.

[Rigwyn]

* Rigwyn grins broadly as he reads....

Nice nice nice! Love this sort of stuff!

[Mogweh]

It was a fun rp. Thank you for correcting my spelling Jilata

[Shangshi]

As the dark energies breached the gap between the staff and Shansghi's head. The Dark Way's influence was immediate. Ripping at current pleasant feelings within the dream and discarding them in to oblivion. Shangshi didn't want the change to be immediate so slowly began projecting the changes into Zalloh, wanting to savor every second, feel every fright and shiver she did. He first began changing the atmosphere in the kitchen, making it dark, changing the smells, changing the look on Rigwyn's face. He made Rigwyn place a dirty plate on a wash board he had just finished cleaning and say maliciously "Is everything alright, mummy!" As Zalloh nodded, she took the plate and began to wash it as a small fly began to buzz around her head. Feeling a tickle on her cheek, she tried to shoo it off, but only managed to get some food on her skin. She could feel it oozing down the side of her face. Taking a fresh cloth, she began to wipe it off, but as she did, it began to spread - making the mess far worse. She stroked her face again and again, then wrung out the cloth. From its white appearance it dripped and splattered foul  smelling water all over her nice clean floor and onto Rigwyn's boot. She looked at him and gasped slightly - confused by the emotionless eyes looking back at her. Shangshi projected his own feelings of anger into the image, not only making it dark but with strange noises and ghastly smells. He felt sure Zalloh would slowly but surely fill the gaps caused by his changes with some of the deepest most fearful parts of her mind. He awaited to see what would show and surface before he took control or any new parts. Suddenly fearful of what Rigwyn might do, Zalloh quickly cowered to her hands and knees to spotlessly clean his boots. As she did the mess spread further, and now began to stink like an old bag of rotten garbage. She wanted to look up but was too afraid of what he might do to her. Closing her eyes, she continued to wipe with trembling hands until she was stopped by a loud hiss! As she opened her eyes, a long black serpent slithered between her arms. She stood bolt upright as her feet skidded in the mess on the floor and she leaped from atop the counter where she crouched as she watched it slither into a hole in the wall. Curious, she leaped down and landed on all four hands and feet squelching loudly covering herself in a foul smell. As she hit the floor with a slap, her flesh was suddenly like that of an ugly toad's - rubbery gray with lumps and bumps. She tried to speak, but could only croak. Not caring about her strange appearance, she hopped to the hole in the wall and peered inside. Shangshi tried to imagine the place Zalloh would be visiting as she would vanish down that hole as he made Rigwyn call out 'Mummy' behind her. He pushed stronger energies from both the fear and shadow glyphs with the intent of making her feel deathly terror from the simplest of noises. Unsure of what could be hiding within the simplest shadows.

As she approached the hole, it seemed to get larger and larger - and herself smaller and smaller. She cowered into the opening and looking to the side as she peered into the darkness. She could see only blackness, but inside there was a whisper. She felt her body shake right down to its core. Her grey, fleshy hands trembled, her lips and tongue dried up. She wanted to run, but her feet were stuck to the floor as if glued. Tears rushed from her little eyes as she shook in horror - no longer able to hold in a loud, broken cry. She croaked at the top of her lungs again and again as she crouched down low and cowered, but the whispering voices from behind the wall was laughed at her, chattering her name along with a palette of obscenities. They began to shout at her, then it suddenly stopped.

If you were to look at Shangshi you would see him reaching out to a empty space in front of him. Within the dream the hole began to get wider and deeper, larger and larger until there was nothing but the hole. Still in the silent darkness he held her with his mind pinched between two finger, spinning her round making her dizzy without any point of reference. He made a voice echo in the darkness different to the whisper, the words meaningless and indecipherable but their intent clear. Filled with hate and venom dripping in the darkness. Shangshi pulled away the darkness with one swift jerk of his hand, making her fall. Air ringing and filling her ears he let her land where her mind did not want to be.

She could feel her feet rise above her head as the opening though which she had fallen, spun above her head - growing smaller by the second. She reached for it like a child grasping for a star only to see it fade to black. With a harsh, explosion of white pain that flashed though her body like lightning, she screamed with a bloody gurgle that foamed from her mouth and spilled down her cheeks and onto the floor. She closed her eyes as she tried to catch her breath, then opened them once more. As if waking from a dream she realized that she was walking though a garden beneath the dimly lit dome. Tiny creatures of the night stroked their legs and chirped as stray, thorny vines slapped and cut her legs.

She called out, but nobody answered, then stopped at the sight of an infant. He was slick and brown with little horns on his head. His eyes were strangely familiar, but she couldn't figure out why. She reached out to lift it up; to hold it close to her heart, but it bit her - sinking its teeth deep into her flesh. She screamed, but it kept biting - digging its little claws into her and tearing her apart. She cried "Rigwyn, Stop it!", but he refused to let go. Horrified, she grabbed it by the neck and began to hit it with her fists. In a frantic state of mind, she grabbed its little frame and threw it against a tree  where it hit with a crack landing silently in the grass. Looking up at the tree she noticed a figure upon the tree - a figure of a woman with outstretched hands glaring at her with the most damning, unforgiving eyes she had ever seen.

Xiosia! She gasped, then fell to her knees.

Shangshi, having ideas of what he might see during this was still somewhat surprised by what was revealing itself. Wanting to break her belief to make her feel abandoned by her god he began having small branches of the tree snap and fall, turning to dust and blowing away in the breeze before they landed on the ground. Feeling the time was presenting itself he began to draw on the final glyph he had prepared, weakness, to slowly but inexorably sap every last ounce of emotional, physical and religious strength which was buried within Zalloh.

As the holy tree crumbled before her eyes, she lifted one of the branches and held it in her hand. It was dead wood - nothing more nothing less. It was no different from any other stick or twig. Looking into the eyes of the tree she spoke. "So this is why you never answer me. You stand their judging us no more than an extension of my imagination? I believed that you were real and it made me feel empowered and protected, I suppose that's what I needed." She says as she tossed the stick to the side, then slowly walked over the branches - snapping them beneath her boots.

The tree finally collapsed. Seeing the trunk fall over, she stood on top of it and looked out over the horizon. She whispered, "And all those things that scared me, the voices in the dark, the shadows that stretched over my head. They never did hurt me, did they? Because they were never real." Stepping off the tree, she turned her back on it, then wandered into some woods, and then to a clearing where she found a large rolling green hill. At the bottom was a field full of consumers and a large stone burial well. She sat up on the grass and gazed into the well, then laid down on her side as he eyes grew heavy and closed. She breathed once, and gave up.

Shangshi ripped the calm from her, incinerating it. That last thing that she would feel would be anything but calm. Drawing upon the fear he felt from here he pushed Rigwyn back into the image, this time it was the version he knew. The cold blooded killer, the people trafficker, the liar and thief. He made Rigwyn wander up to her from nowhere and scream at her, towering over her. The threat of violence as crackling like electricity.

Her eyes flew open, her body was shaken violently as she saw a furious Diaboli staring into her eyes. She screamed at the top of her lungs, terrified of his presence - the high pitched gargling howls nearly taking on a life of their own. His eyes burned with fury as he screamed into her face. His strong fingers dug into her flesh like shovels in putrid filthy ground.

Izalox, her husband, cackled in the background, then blew out a long stream of billowing cigar smoke. He approached from behind as Rigwyn continued to shake Zalloh's feeble frame. Taking another long drag that left the tip glowing bright and orange, he chimed, "You stupid, worthless woman! Look what you did you did to our son! You ruined him!" She began to cough and vomit a stream of rancid water and maggots as he laughed. Closing her eyes, she saw images of him from the past - beating her mercilessly with his fists and walking stick - kicking her while she was broken and laying upon the ground, poisoning her with tainted medicine when she was ill.

She saw him dragging Rigwyn through a into nonexsistant room and then slamming the door shut. She could hear every crack and thud as he screamed and begged him to stop. Laying on the ground - too broken to get up and help, she found herself praying to no avail, then cursed herself over and over as the noises intensified.

Breaking the door open, Izalox staggered through - his fists busted and tinged red, his bloodied staff broken in half.
 Shangshi could feel the want for drip away with every word flung at Zalloh. Izalox stood above her hurling insults at her, grabbing fists full of her hair and yanking her head up so he could fling his obscenities all over her. With her God a fake and empty shell of believe, she crumpled down in a pool of maggots and faeces with Izalox looming over, her screams of terror mixed with tears flooding down her cheek.

Pausing for what must have been a moment of sweet relief for Zalloh, Izalox looked to his hand into which Shangshi had placed a sparkling blue Starphire. He held the delicate flower out and dropped it, spinning in the air it drifted slowly until it landed upon Zalloh. A crack and scream echoed off the stone face as it felt like an anvil had landed on her, literally crushing her. As her bones splintered pools of puss and bile spilled from her open wounds. Zalloh was wishing for an end, any end discussed with what she has done to her son. The visions of the dream themselves began being lost in blur of pain and hate as from the outside she lay peacefully, silently on the grass in the warm Azure Sun.

He sensed it... reaching with the magic he felt as if he could pound her into a messy pulp. And that is what he was imagining doing. His heart, once thumping began to slow as he knew his prize was within grasp. As the end quickly approached for Zalloh the inconspicuous ring which had graced Shangshi's hand for many years glowed and began to shimmer and vibrate as she was taken by Dakkru. His ring the conduit, shattered and exploded off his finger as she emptied of life shredding the flesh of his fingers. The crystal shimmered with a red tinge as they drooped though the air and fell lightly upon the grass.

Then there was silence.....

The grotesque figure which was the remains of Zalloh laying peacefully in her own waste, images now only in alive in Shangshi's mind, melted away. As the images Shangshi was seeing cracked and crumbled they was replaced with fragments of where he was sat, a tree caught in the breeze, a patch of grass bright green in the Azure sun. As Shangshi looked about where he found himself sat it took him a moment to realise where he was. As he did the magic stopped flowing and lost its grasp on him and the wand and just floated away in the breeze.

A searing pain exploded up his arm as he realised what had happened to him. Clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth he grabbed his finger with his other had before rising and stumbling, drunk and drained from his exhilarating experience to his mount where he found something to wrap his hand in. Hand still grasped he walked over and stood in the Azure sun looking over towards his victim. He smiled as he collected his items; their seared footprint left on the grass.

The distance between where he had been sat and the position of Zalloh's empty body was not far, but he still took his time feeling that he would not be disturbed. Leaving the Rivnak a few paces from her he took a few things from the saddle and walked over kneeling next to the body. Knowing what she had been going though not 10 minutes earlier, the eerie stillness of the body was somewhat unnerving for Shangshi, surprisingly. Her hair was neat, clothes tidy, her face was relaxed and seemed somewhat content. He sat crossed legged and observed her for a few minutes.

Letting out a deep breath he finished his act by placing two items on the corpse, a short letter and the Starphire he had received earlier. Pushing himself slowly to his feat he managed to eventually remount his Rivnak and about turned heading back to Hydlaa. He sighed after a few minutes of gently cantering along realising the rest of his day was likely to be relatively boring. He smiled shaking his head as he muttered "I think I'll go and see Jomed for something more to eat."

[[
Thanks to Rigwyn for playing this out with me, a lot of fun to have it done finally.
]]

[Mariana Xiechai]

  Brilliant imagery; made my skin crawl. Well written, both of you, and well done.

[Mogweh]

I should warn anyone with a gentle disposition to click here and forget you ever saw this page.
It contains details of mutilation and a murder most horrid.

Murder Most Horrid

“She will serve as a warning to any who enter the church of the Black Flame without the purest of heart”

Our ship had been sailing for many days and my old condition had returned. I could not sleep. My stomach cramped and my bowels howled as I squatted over the hole in the deck floor, the dark sea below raging against the hull. Nothing but a simple wooden cabin with a half door to retain a modicum of decency. The boat pitched with the waves, and the door, attached by a mere loop of twine, jarred back and forth threatening to expose me at any moment as I clung with one arm out stretched to prevent myself from slipping over onto the filth, not all of it mine, on the deck floor.

Much later, I made my way along the corridor, infecting door handle and railing as I grasped them desperately to remain upright. The cabin door to my private quarters burst open and as the ship bucked cruelly beneath my feet I soon followed collapsing on the edge of my bed. I wasn't sure if it  was there or back at the latrine that I had resolved to succumb once more to that gentle itching inside my head. My mind scratched away at it, peeling through layers of rational until finally exposed, my resistance gone, and a pure understanding of what I must have – deserve to have.

Fumbling with excitement, hands shaking, I attempted to fit the small silver key into the lock of the chest. I had to stop and take a deep breath. With the left hand steadying the right, I once again sent the key towards it's target. The lock snapped open and my nails dug into the sides of the lid as I heaved it open. At the bottom was the little treasure trove, an old box smelling of pipe weed and mint, filled with a pocket watch that belonged to my grandfather, and a small book of poetry preserving a pressed white flower and a lock of blond hair. Most importantly was the silver flask, perfect in design, so shiny and robust, topped with a small cup engraved with the image of a Nolthrir maiden dancing, arms stretched upwards towards the crystal, her body surrounded by flames. How beautiful it was. As I took the flask tears stung my eyes, but as my mind continued to scratch away, they left nothing but wetness.

I filled the cup with the dark brown sticky liquid. The familiar pungent odour filled the air. The liquid fell fiery into my stomach, stinging my tongue but leaving that pleasant metallic taste I had grown to love. I turned to look at my face in the mirror. I bared my teeth, and force a little brown saliva through them. I giggled to myself and looked about me to check no one is watching as a wave of euphoria filled my chest, and my breathing deepened, and my heart, the footfall of my life, finally began to take up a meaningful pace. I gloated at the image looking back at me as my pupils expanded into large black holes and my vision took on a warm blur.

I plunged my tongue into the cup to wash it clean before returning it, and the flask, back securely into the trunk. My mind was calmer now. I craved for company. The landscape of my mind was fading a little and I needed to talk to someone to bring it in to clear focus.

The waves had become calmer and the idea of navigating passage to the bar seemed more appealing. I looked into the mirror once more and my thoughts were drawn into the conversation I would like to have. I would tell a story. A story I had told many times before in situations like these. How did it begin? I fought to concentrate, but it was hard and my azure eyes began to fascinate me.

Time passed.

The ship pitched once more and brought me to my senses. I stared back at the occupant of the cold mirror, and for a second I did not know who it was, nor where I was. I panicked and began talking to break the silence. Words formed on my lips. The sounds seemed strange at first, but eventually they became clear and as they did I remembered how the story began and without pause I launched into telling the tale.


Service

The priest stamped his foot ominously on the large, dark wooden trap door. The steel bindings shifting with each blow. His eyes flickered to the door, “Down there. That is where failure will get you.” he said matter of factly in a slow rasping voice . “Service for service. That is the way of it. Speak you request.”

I nodded, my eyes meeting Osofus',their pupils contracting to pin points as the Kran raised the flaming torch to better light up my face, “Service for service”, he repeated.

“I-I-I seek a means to end J-Jacula's life.” I stammered pathetically.

“I will give you the means, eager young Menki, but first you must pay your due. You have brought one amongst us who does not belong. She is weak. She does not follow the teachings. She must be snuffed from existence.” he stamped a few more times on the trap door, “before your mistakes take you to dark places” he held my stare for a moment before continuing. “By some happy coincidence”, he smirked, ”She will provide you with what you require. I will explain the ritual of true death and what is to be taken. Now, take a seat. This will take some time.”

….

Death

I struggled with accepting Osofus's words but eventually came to accept them as a truth. She must die.

I waited. I tried to persuade her to follow through with what she started. “You could be one of the best, a goddess before insects!” I urged. This is too much, and she wouldn't listen.

Time passed and we escaped Hydlaa. For a while it was just the two of us. Happy. But I grew tired of it and her health became fragile as the child within her belly grew. I knew beyond any doubt I could not let it survive. As Enkidukai cannot mate with Nolthrir, I knew it to be his and the betrayal I felt in my heart stung.

I journeyed alone for some days as I bolstered my resolve. On the way home I bought her a gift from a local market. She'll like that, I thought. Outside the house I looked up at the tree, and threw a rope over a high branch. I made a noose at one end and tidied away the excess rope. Many minutes passed as I tried to decide if the noose should be on the ground or hanging in mid air, like in so many paintings I had seen.

I entered the house. The recognition in her eyes as I slipped the gift around her hair. The green silk ribbon. Her hand reached for her swollen belly. We acknowledged it for a brief moment and for the last time I looked into those beautiful eyes. That hurt. I looked away as the blade came down and into her gut. Now I had to be quick, I couldn't have her drifting off to that Dark Bitch.

Not wanting to see her face again, I quickly grabbed her hair and slit her throat. Blood gushed and she weakly put her hands up to me, squeezing my arm before slumping unconsciously to the floor. I put that out of my mind as I dragged her off to the tree by her legs, then fixing them to the noose before I hauled her up as fast as I could and tied off the rope.

She stirred and half opened her eyes as I slashed deeply into her womb then thrust in my hand grabbing as much as I could before dragging it out and throwing it onto the floor for her to see. I don't know if she saw it before she died, I like to think she did. Such poetry.

My heart was racing and my body shook. I dropped to my knees. Filling my hands with her blood and gulping down as much as I could stomach. It was for power, or so I had been told. Vomit erupted from my mouth and it took a second more cautious attempt to keep any of it down.

I got to my feet and cut further down the middle of her chest to get to the heart. I was told specifically not to damage it and I pushed my hand inside to try and lift it up, sawing the blade into anything that I could feel was attached to it. Once it was out, I wrapped it in the silk scarf; wiped my hands clean and took a step back from the disfigured corpse, to consider for a moment how I should proceed. A body slumped over the back of a rivnak was going to be quite unmistakable, and taking Rigwyn's advise for once, I accepted the fact that she would need to be dismembered and stacked up into a pile before being wrapped.

It was then that it struck me as funny: how was I to cut up the body?

I took out a small paper and began filling it with tobacco from a pouch in my breast pocket. I then rolled and sealed it, running the edge along my tongue before I lit one end of the paper and took a long draw on the burning ember, closing my eyes as I filled my lungs with heavy sweet smoke. Blood mingled with the taste of the tobacco, which I enjoyed.

Having taken the time to calm myself I remembered that my old axe was packed away from when we escaped Hydlaa. I retrieved this and even though it was covered in rust as I did not have time to oil and sharpen it properly, when swung with enough force it did manage to take the limbs off, eventually.

Just the head and I could start to pack her up. My hands were now trembling violently. I had never had much of a stomach for that kind of thing and I couldn't be sure I would make a clean cut with the axe. Dropping to my knees I took up the dagger again and dug it into the bones of the neck. They were tough, and I had to really work the head in circles before I was left with just the sinew and muscle to cut through.

….

Ritual

I dumped the bundle at the priest's feet, “The offering, my friend.”

Osofus looked down and carefully began to remove the bindings, “A little respect then if you please. An offering must be treated with care if it is to be worthy.”, he chided.

I nodded, “Of course”

“Who was she to you, again?”

“A close friend. One who was dear to me.”

“Very good, very good. It is most auspicious to offer that of a... loved one”

“Did I say love?” I answered a little to quickly.

Osofus smiled knowingly and rubbed his large stone hands together making a slow rasping, “Most auspicious indeed. I will have you a fine axe made and blessed.”

I lowered my head, “As you wish. I merely serve.”

“And the heart? That is most important. You took it; wrapped it as instructed?”

“I did, as you instructed. The blood letting was immediate. I took the heart for the offering”

“Better have sealed it well.” the Kran snapped, “Can't offer rotting flesh” he said smacking his lips.

We both laid out the body parts. The entrails were burnt and after some hours the soot was gathered into a brass receptacle. As we waited for the soot to cool, the priest handed me a larger copper needle and a ball of thick black twine. The ritual of retribution, I had heard of it, of course. The once beautiful Nolthir's body parts were sewn back together. Her legs at the arm sockets and the arms into the leg sockets. Once completed the effect was quite disturbing. Osofus nodded with satisfaction as he lifted the macabre corpse onto the altar block near by.

“She will serve as a warning to any who enter the church of the Black Flame without the purest of heart”

Taking the now cool receptacle he sprinkled a circle of black soot on the floor leaving just a small gap. “We are now ready for completion. Enter the circle”

I entered and dropped to my knees as Osofus sealed it with the remainder of soot. He  nodded reassuringly to me and began reciting a strange and eerie verse. I didn't understand it, it was in the old tongue. However, eventually I heard a familiar line, “Odium, tractatio, flagitio, seditionis, impatiens, persuasio, statuere et occultum”. I've heard those words many times before, “Hatred, manipulation, sedition, patience, persuasion, determination and secrecy” the “qualities” as they are know. As the kran continued for what seemed an age, my mind craved the touch of my flask, and as I considered taking a surreptitious mouthful while the priest droned on, he abruptly stopped speaking. I almost jumped. He looked up at me and nodded wordlessly.

I took my cue and I lifted the heart above my head with both hands. Rapt, I intoned , “Take this most precious offering, Black Flame, from a devout servant. As I devote my life to you and strive for the goals of existence: 'Power and the control of the truth'. To engender the qualities within myself: From hatred I gain strength, to manipulate all things, to spread sedition in the minds of others, to have the patience to wait, the power of persuasion to alter logic, the determination to persist and the art of secrecy to walk among our enemy as a friend. Let us together ride rough-shod over the fool-insects, trample the weak, inhabit the good, violate their sanctity and pour scorn on their devotion to their crippled gods. Take this heart, from one who was pure and died at the hands of a 'friend'. Through this act I demonstrate my devotion to you, Black Flame. My god.”, my voice lingered and I felt something akin to love well up in my chest, then in an instant I thrust the heart into my mouth and begin to bite into it. Congealed sticky blood spewed out and down my chin. Osofus screamed, “Not a drop must be spilled!” and he quickly placed a silver plate under my chin to catch the errant blood and matter. Biting and retching my eyes filled with tears as I forced the lot into my throat. By sheer strength of will and faith I swallowed it down.

With my jaw hanging loosely and the clotted blood upon my chin I looked up at the kran. “All of it!” he whispered with a hint of menace. Wiping my finger around the jaw and chin I slurped up the remainder of the blood and licked the plate clean as my mind battled with the abject horror of the spectacle in which I was a part.

“Good” the Kran smiled cruelly, nodding in satisfaction, “A close friend now, indeed” he mocked. Osofus held out his hands with his palms up, “Service for a service.” he rasped as he indicated for me to stand.

I reached for my cane squeezing the engraved hilt hard, letting it's image bite into my palm as I pushed down heavily and lifted myself uneasily onto unsteady legs. He turned and taking  an axe in both hands he reverently passed it to me, “I give the means to vanquish your enemy, Jacula. I have named it, rather fittingly,  'Mellas'. Take it Mogweh with the Black Flame's blessing.” The Kran attempted to stifle his mirth, “May she keep you safe”, he finished, as he could no longer contain his laughter which echoed though the chamber surrounding my still body and emotionless face.

I lowered my head and gazed at the axe. For a moment I entered an inner world where nothing but me and the axe existed. How beautiful it was, and soft to the touch, and cool, and so carefully engraved, and wonderfully balanced. It fascinated me and an urge to be alone with it overwhelmed me as the kran's laughter broke through my mind. I turned to escape it, hardly noticing a Lemur who had just entered, his face sneering at me as I tried not to run out of altar room and into the adjoining library.  As I reached the door the priest called to me, “Oh Mogweh.”

“Yes?” I replied, not looking back.

“Whisper Bless”

….

I smiled sadly into the mirror as my story ended and gazed at my reflection until my features distorted and I couldn't recognise what was looking back at me. It all happened such a long time ago. The ship pitched uneasily and shook me from my reverie. As I steadied myself I felt the gentle itch begin to nag again at my mind. “I'll go and tell my story later. I should rest”, I lied, as my eyes were drawn to the trunk at the end of my bed and my hand unconsciously reached for the small silver key on the chain at my neck, checking for it's existence, pressing it lovingly into the palm of my hand.

[Aramara Meibi]

and just as i was sitting down for dinner...

[Mariana Xiechai]

 
Well Dang.
And I thought my stories were gruesome.
Although I admit, it was the picture that did it for me, not so much the details in the writing...Yikes

[Aramara Meibi]

Icerra Part 2: The End of Karlyle

"As you wish, Icerra. I look forward to your next need of my services."

Sacho turns to leave as the rain begins to fall.

The fool menki thinks he’s so smart. But I got what I wanted and he got nuthin’ from me.

Icerra watches him go, waiting until he's put a good distance between them before she heads of in her own direction. She is lost in thought, contemplating how to best put to use this new revelation. She now has a name, the source of the poison which kills true. Barsidious. But how to find him?

The rain picks up, falling more heavily now. It is warm, in contrast to the cool air, a bank of moisture which has risen from the lower levels. Through the downpour she spots the encampment known as Camp Banished, home of Hydlaa’s unwanted and most wanted. She remembers the menki she met in the sewers, who she had tried to get to cooperate in her scheme against Kelan and his new lover. He had told her she could find him there, and so she heads in that direction. But, before she arrives, she notices a lone rider on drifter through the mist of rain.

There is a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder as the rider stops in the distance. He’s seen her too, and he dismounts, pulling out a club as he looms forward. It is then that she recognizes him, the Ynnwn who had beaten her to within an inch of her life and hadn’t the good graces to finish the job. Karlyle.

Icerra approaches Karlyle with falchions drawn, her mouth pulled back in a snarl, revealing a silver fang in place of the one he knocked out in their last encounter.

“I been lookin' fer you.”

“Yeah .... so I've heard! WHY?”

“You know why... you didn't even have the decency ta kill me... just left me there bleedin'... now I gotta pay you back, fair's fair.”

"I hate to tell you this ... but I dont remember a thing, but if that is what you have to do, go ahead" Karlyle puts away his weapons, takes off his helmet, and kneels on the ground.

Icerra snarls, 'Dontchoo dare blame this on magics, you knew whatchoo was doin'" she begins to circle Karlyle to approach him from behind.

Karlyle shakes his head "I dont know what to blame, only a dermorian priest" He closes his eyes and waits.

Icerra replaces one of her blades back on her hip and pulls out a knife. She stands behind Karlyle, placing her falchion blade at his throat while driving the knife into his upper right arm, tit for tat.

Karlyle growls loudly as the knife enters his arm ... then takes his other arm and grabs Icerra's foot as he tries to knock her down and roll on top of her

Icerra falls to her left, her foot in Karlyle’s grasp, but considering her knife was still lodged into the flesh of his arm and her falchion blade pressed against his throat, the sudden movement might have ripped the knifeblade out at an angle, widening the wound, and her falchion blade pulled in a jerking motion across his throat , as she certainly kept a tight grip on both.

Karlyle tries to hold Icerra down as his arm is bleeding badly, and his throat has a cut that norrowly missed any vitals. "Are we even now?"

Icerra snarls again, "Not quite..." as she aims a kick to Karlyle's face with her free foot.

Karlyle rolls away, just enough to get a kick almost at full reach. He grabs his face then sits up "Then just finish me."

Icerra grunts as she rolls away from the wretched Ynnwn. She lifts herself to her feet and buckles her remaining falchion back on her hip, retaining the knife in her paw. No matter how badly she would like to kill Karlyle, she’s not one to pass on the opportunity of gaining information, or perhaps, even, gaining an accomplice. She points her knife at him, his blood mixing with the rain and running down his arm and throat and coating her blade in thinned veils.

“You wanna die you gotta earn yer death. Tell me what I wanna know. They was another Ynnwn, had braids in his hair. He did the same as you, beat people and left flowers on them. Who he is? Who you two werkin’ fer?”

Karlyle shakes his head, "You dont understand, .... I really dont remember a thing.  Any of it!  All I know is that there was a dermorian priest that I would meet, when he needed something done."
He tries to stop some of the bleeding from his arm with his other hand, holding it tightly, "He would give me a bag, then all I remember is him taking it back right afterwards and me having a terrible headache." Karlyle sighs a bit, "Honestly, thats all I know."

Icerra curses beneath her breath, “Magicks...” then focuses again on Karlyle, demanding of him, “Then whydjoo work fer him? What’s he got on you?”

Karlyle stays there on his knees, starting to wobble from the blood loss.  "He paid me very well, and I didnt know what I was doing ... so I figured it couldnt be that bad." His eyes start to roll back into his head and he falls to his face.

The rain begins to subside, and Icerra too rolls her eyes at the Ynnwn, thinking this is a cheap stunt to try and get out of his situation. She carefully steps up to Karlyle’s prone body, lying face first in the mud, and nudges him with her foot, “Get up, I ain’t done whichoo.”

Karlyle tries to get up, but is unsuccessful. He ends up rolling onto his back.  He tries to talk a little more but mostly just mumbles in between deep breath, "I dot ..... no mo.   Wha  mo ....... yo wan?"

Icerra realizes that he is indeed not faking it, and his situation might be quite critical. She curses herself for not paying attention to her mother’s work. If only she were here, or her sister, or that damned nosey menki Sacho, but no, they’d only ask questions and interfere. She’s going to have to handle this on her own, but as she’s scorned the use of magic and having on her only instruments of death, it takes her a moment to think of what to do. She cuts a strip off of what’s left of her already torn and tattered cloak and begins to tie a tourniquet around Karlyle’s injured arm. As she does she speaks quickly before he fades out completely, “What I want? I got a proposition fer ya. Tell me who this priest is and I’ll take care of him. Then he can’t control you no more, you hear me? In exchange, I got a Dermorian of my own I need ta get rid of.”

With the arm wrapped and the bleeding stopped, Karlyle starts to come through again.  Then he looks up at Icerra "I wish I knew who this Priest was, it would make things much easier to prove, but he always wore a hood to cover his face. So I dont know who he is.  Though, the Ynnwn you described ... I think I know who you are talking about.  I have met him only a few times, but he seems the type that would have done these things as well.  He goes by two names that I know of ... Rigwyn, which is more common, and Jaard Black.  Im not sure where you might find him though, he moves around quite a bit." Karlyle pauses a moment while still looking at Icerra "Now, about this Dermorian that you need to ... get rid of.  What did he do? I could be of assistance, if I believe in the reason"

Icerra sits back, smiling, glad for Karlyle's quick recovery, if only for her own benefit. She smirks, "So me freein' ya from this priest's control ain't reason enough? I didn't take ya fer a man of morals... but, if you insist... SHE took somethin' from me, somethin' I can't take back unless she gone. But killin's too good fer her, and she can always come back from that, so I need her to disappear, ya know, someone's gotta keep her outta sight. You can do that can'tcha?"

Karlyle chuckles slightly, but still in pain, "I am by no means a man of morals, and you have yet to tell me WHY you need her out of the way. Except that that you want something back from her.  So ... I will need a bit more information then that!

Icerra smoothly stands to her feet, any sign of amusement quickly wiped from her face. Instead, her brow furrows and she points her knife at Karlyle again. "Didja ask this priest this many questions? You didn't even know what you was doin' fer him and yet you still did. So why?" She shakes her head quickly, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her free paw in frustration, "It don't even matter... you don't trust me? Fine. You want this priest dead? Then you help me out, I help you out... it's a simple transaction, that's how business is done. No reasons have ta be involved, just complicates things."

As Karlyle slowly regains his strength, now that his wound is wrapped, he starts to chuckle, "You wouldn't be able to help me anyways.  I have no idea who this priest is, let alone ... how to find him" He starts to pay attention to the knife pointed at him again, "Back to this again ... huh?  Like I said, if the reason is justifiable, I may be of service ... for a price, obviously."

"Fine.." Icerra says, while taking a step closer, keeping up her guard, "You know what it is to serve Death? You can't just go 'round killin' people who don't want it, it don't do Dakkru any good. You gotta break 'em, gotta break they will ta live. You gotta destroy ev'rything they loves, 'til they come to you begging, on they knees." Icerra smirks for a second then her face becomes drawn quickly as she observes Karlyle again with a tilt of her head, "... like you," she adds quietly.

"She's got someone, someone who loves her. Someone I wanna see on they knees, begging ta die... that's my reason."

Karlyle looks up at Iccera when she thought she whispered too quietly for him to hear.  "Well, looks like I won't be able to help you then ... and I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of killing me either"  Karlyle pulls a long dagger out of the top of his boot and points it at his chest, aiming straight for his heart "I only leave one behind that I care for anyways ... I only hope that she sees it in herself to forgive me"  He thrusts the dagger into his heart and smiles knowing that Icerra would have rather done the job herself.  Karlyle falls face down into the mud, pushing the dagger even further, so that the tip just started to push out of his back.

The rain ceases and Icerra is left staring emotionless at the lifeless body of Karlyle. She waits to watch the corpse fade into Dakkru’s realm. Still holding her own knife and feeling unsatisfied, the pushes the edge of the blade into the flesh of her palm, drawing a line of blood across her paw. She feels nothing, not pain nor joy, only a mild fenki curiosity as she watches the blood bead and trickle into her wet fur. Putting the knife away and donning her steel gauntlet to cover the wound, she makes her way back to town. She has another name to work with now. Rigwyn.

[Rigwyn]

Nice post Aramara!