Not Just Tellin' Stories [Edreina]

[Razkar]

45th Day of Spring
Anchorage Flotilla
1st Bell

One thing Razkar was fast learning about the Flotilla was that it was never truly asleep. Like any port, ships were always coming and going, whether it was noon or midnight. Always there were deals being struck and wagers made, Svefra reuniting and separating, training, socializing, carousing, arguing... it truly was a city. Like any city, it had it's culture, it's nightlife.

And, bizarrely enough, it's bonfires.

Razkar walked across planks and rope bridges, seeing pinpoints of blazing light stretched out across the horizon-stretching wooden plain. Some were no bigger than torches, and some took up sizable chunks of and ship's deck, stone underneath to stop the fires eating into the ship... and people did not shirk from them.

Fire and flames roared towards the skies, and yet the Svefra gathered around them... and told stories.

Cloaked in shadow and, well, his own cloak, the Myrian moved closer to one. A bearded Svefra was enthralling a circle of enraptured faces with a story in Fratava, arms swinging, voice alternating between low and hushed, scared, and booming, shouting like a sea god.

Some eyes turned at his approach. They took in the dark, tattooed skin, marked with ink and scars and piercings. Hung with weapons and half-naked. Stinking of death and battle.

But despite all of that, the Sea People did not turn their eyes from him. They did not sneer or mutter (not all of them, anyway). They noticed him, they saw him arrive... and then turned back to the storyteller.

"Vast it was, my friends!" The old man intoned, sweeping a hand round in front of a row of children, hands like claws. "Rising from the surf and boiling water like a Krar-Ken of the Old World! Tentacles like tree trunks... and a beak as broad as this very ship!"

Razkar found himself smiling softly. Storytellers. He knew them well. Masters of drama and theater, they could not just tell a tale, but conjure it into life. Make you truly believe you were witnessing the event. The Shorn Skulls had theirs, and Taloba had plenty more.

The Myrian sat to one side of the bonfire, black eyes fixed on the unfolding saga before him. It sounded like a good one. He hoped it had a fine finish...

[Edreina]

Spring 45, 513 AV Anchorage Flotilla Edreina had heard this man's story many times over the past years, she had watched it morph and grow each year. The yarn was a fine one, nonetheless, a tale of how he fought a great Kraken to save his beautiful wife. Originally, the story had been him saving his drowning wife from circling sharks. But, this one was better. As she looked on, Edreina noticed many children before the man, little blue orbs wide with wonder and curiosity as the elder's animation enthralled them. His whispy beard leapt like seafoam as he nodded his head, drawing the audience in further, beckoning to them with wizened hands. Edreina sat atop the railing on the man's palivar, one leg brought up with her, creating a nice rest for her chin upon her knee. The other leg was stretched out front, supporting the majority of her weight. In the firelight, her hair appeared to be a flying ember, part of the flame but sadly detached. In any breeze, it would flare to life playfully for a moment. She preferred to view happenings from a far, less she become directly involved. The limelite was not her friend, but an acquaintance whom she avoided whenever possible. Turning her eyes to the fire for a moment, Edreina finds herself captivated by its dancing motions. The fact that these older ships had served as centers of meeting and bonfires still astounded her. It had been years since a sail had touched this mast, and the stones beneath the flames were darkened by years of abuse. Several eyes turned towards the gangplank not five feet from Edreina, causing her to turn her head and look just as the stranger stepped onto the boat. His skin was the color of wet sand, and marked with scars, like little shells peeking through the sand as the tide washes away. Tattoos also adorned his muscular frame, a custom not far removed from the Svefra, though the styles of art varied greatly. Where the Svefra favored delicate, swirling shapes to create beautiful images that praised Laviku's glory, this stranger was covered in bold, harsh shapes that probably had great meaning in his society, but were only intimidating to others. The fire maned female watched as several Svefra muttered to one another, likely more curious than afraid, before returning their eyes to the storyteller. But, as he walked, Edreina continued to watch, curiosity reaching midtide. Abruptly, the storyteller switched to Common tongue, probably to make the newcomer feel more at home. In the flickering light of the fire, Edreina watched a smile flit across his features, leaving a small trace as the man took a seat, intent upon hearing the end of this tale. And end it did, shortly after a very animated acting out of the fight that 'occurred' and the man saved his woman from the ghastly, tentacled beast. Smiles brightened the circle, and some Svefra whooped appreciatively. Grinning, the old man turned to this newcomer, centering him in the circle's attention. "Welcome, friend. It is not a challenge for me to tell that you are not from around here, some far off land, perhaps? What brings you to our humble Flotilla, and have ye any marvelous tales to tell?" For once, the storyteller was straight to the point. It was not unlikely that he would take elements of this stranger's story and relay them at a later date to entertain the masses that gathered before him, but at this moment, everyone was utterly captivated, hoping that the so far silent stranger would share in his adventures upon the earth, for so few land striders joined the circles of fire while upon the Flotilla. Even Edreina found herself waiting with bated breath for the tattooed man's answer, hoping that some story would give some small detail as to who he is, why he adorns himself in such a way. Is he a warrior? A shaman? Maybe he is a villain, banished from his pod - or the equivalent - and cursed to roam the land alone for many years. But, her imagination was wandering and this stranger looked to be on the verge of speech.

[Razkar]

Razkar found himself clapping along with the rest as the wizened raconteur finished his tale, a great wave of appreciation carrying him with it. Truly, it was a fine story, ending just as one should for his audience: good triumphant and evil vanquished, to return never again. Razkar gave a cynical inward sigh. If only the world were so simple...

Then the bearded Svefra's voice and attention was on him, instantly, without any time to think or strategize, and the eyes of all others came with him. The Myrian was suddenly the focus of the crowd, and he felt so... small.

Not a familiar thing to a warrior of Myri, but the freckled Svefra watching carefully saw the pierced and inked and scarred warrior actually gulp as if afraid.

"I..." he began slowly, getting to his feet to address the assembled mass in the proper manner. His Common was guttural and growling, but growing more fluent with every passing day he spent practicing it. "I have... I not know many stories."

The old storyteller's eyes twinkled with disbelief and he cocked his head to one side. The smile stayed in place, though, something else that surprised Razkar.

"You are a Myrian, yes?"

"I am." No hesitation that time. What would be the point of lying, after all?

"Ah!" The storyteller snapped his arms out, wide and enveloping the darkness as if those two short words were answers to the Great Questions, smile widening. "Such stories from the wild and ancient Jungles you must possess! I have heard some, but to have one of Myri's own warriors here to tell first hand... that is a rare honor."

Razkar's first thought was to tell him that even if he did have stories, his Common probably was not up to it... but then he heard that final word. An honor? For him to be there? His mind almost choked on the word, as if...

Never in Riverfall were you so received. So civilized, they believed, and they treated you like a monster. But these Sea People... they see what is new and strange and embrace it as a gift from their gods...

The Myrian's mouth closed briefly, and his decision was made. He straightened and smiled briefly (but not with his teeth: they were filed to point and, well... there were children present).

"Fine. I will speak a tale."

A brief cheer rose from the crowd and the Storyteller smiled in a great, beaming arc, submitting the deck around the bonfire to their new guest. Razkar swept off his cloak and let it fall over a barrel, far from the fire.

The assembled Svefra could see every inch of him by the roaring flames and flickering shadows now. Clad only in sandals, loin cloth and his weapon harness, his body was tall and solid and darkened like burned meat. The children oooh-ed and ahhh-ed at his tattoos and scars, the men muttered softly, appreciatively to one another at the myriad of blades hooked, sheathed and strapped to his body.

Razkar slowly moved around the bonfire... staring into its depths... dredging up some story of his people, or his life... but what? What could he tell them that would grant such a reaction, as the Storyteller provoked? Then he chastized himself: you won't. But you can try, and tell your tale, regardless.

It is not for accolades or congratulations or petty ego. It is for the telling of the tale, that word and eyes and tongue spread it far. Is is for the storytelling, that it may live in hearts and minds forever...

Razkar spread his arms wide, and began slowly. His words were not as fluent as theirs, but his spoke slowly... words growing with power... just as his Elders had told the story to him years ago, as they had been doing since the Earth Shattering centuries before.

He told them the story of The Serpent and The Tiger...

[Edreina]

The stranger was Myrian, a race of whom she had only heard rumors. From what she had heard, Myrians were fierce people who lived in the forests of Falyndar. Women were the heads of their families, much like the Svefra. She knew of that the fierceness of their warriors was matched only by their enormous, knife-mouthed cats. That was only the rumors that were whispered by traders who specialize in that region. But of the Myrian godess/queen, Myri, Edreina knew more. Deep down in her heart, a special kind of fear, or respect, for the savage who killed Ruros, the god of war since the beginning of time and consumed his heart and mind, Ascending to the rank of goddess. A shiver runs through her body as she returns her attention to the hulking Myrian as he removes his cloak, leaving the rest of his body bare save for a loincloth and a weapons harness. She would have counted the weapons but her eyes were drawn to his scars once more. They each had a story to tell, she was sure, the tiger mauling on his shoulder, the dozens of nicks on his chest and forearms. A question was still begged, Why is he here alone? ' It would have to wait, though, he had begun to speak. As expected, his Common was broken, but his meaning made clear. Whenever his speech lapsed, a spirit would possess his body and make the meaning clear through his actions. The story was an enthralling one, perhaps because it took place far removed of the world she knew, perhaps because of the way that the Svefra around her reacted. The stranger would make a sudden movement, lunging at the crowd, showing the behavior of some animal or fierce fighter, and everyone would tumble back instantly, before leaning back in, captivated. Occassionally, a flash of filed tooth would appear as he spoke, she heard whispers of "shark" among the children, and the thought made her smile. They knew no better than to assume he was some strange Svefra, looking to be partially a shark. Even Edreina found herself leaning in as the tale reached its apex, pulled in as he brought the action to life with his storytelling. By the end, a smile rested on her lips, brought there by the glee of hearing a new story for the first time in what felt like ages.

[Razkar]

Razkar had heard the story a hundred times by the fires of home, in a dozen variations. He remembered his mother telling it, his father, uncles, cousins, his Elders and even Mayla, that old witch, infusing true terror when she pretended to be The Serpent. He chuckled inwardly as he actually tried to ape that sinister crone when he performed now.

"Tiger was strong and fierce," he said, throwing out muscular arms to demonstrate, shadows spreading wide along the deck, "But Serpent, he cunning, and one bite, hssssss!"

His head snapped forwards, filed teeth now shown plain and terrifying, making the children squirm and then act as though they didn't, no, never, we're brave! Razkar smiled and drew back, shoulders hunched as if in pain.

"He put poison in Tiger, make him weak... make him slow..."

Razkar went to one knee, breathing hard as if the venom was in his own veins. He panted, voice hissing as he changed roles again.

"Serpent... he knew he win. But Serpent was cruel. He is cruel. So he went close..." He moved on his knees towards the children, shoulders swaying like the way a snake would slither, tongue flicking out between shark-like teeth. "And we make curse on Tiger. Say how Tiger would die. How Serpent would eat Tiger, Tiger children..."

Some of the children recoiled in horror at such sadism, and Razkar shook his head, voice suddenly low and mournful.

"Tiger... he try so hard... but so weak. He felt first drop of blood... fall onto ground... and then-!"

In a single blur of furious movement he was on his feet, jumping back, shadows dancing around him as if in competition, hands thrust back and forward as if strumming a bow, joyous whoop barking from his throat as he let loose an arrow-

"-from blood leapt first Myrian!" His voice was changed too, joy and awe in every syllable, figure revitalized as he told the tale of creation. "With bow in her hand, and she put arrow into Serpent! Serpent hiss and angry, make to kill Myrian, but second drop-"

He roared savagely and the invisible bow vanished, replaced by a slahing war club held in both hands, crashing down with a demon's own fury stamped across his savage face.

"-first male of Myrian came, with club, and smash Serpent back from Tiger! Serpent hiss and cry and howl, but not come close! Myrians now protect Tiger! So Serpent fled, not come back... not yet... but when does... Tiger protect Myrian."

Story ending abruptly, Razkar finally finished, breathing heavy with the exertion and the... unexpected thrill of theater. He bowed lowly, and waited for what he hoped was applause...

[Edreina]

The ship seemed to explode with applause as each and every Svefra - young, old, man, woman - burst into applause, whoops, and whistles. Some rose to their feet, some remained seating, some looked as if they would pat him on the back were he a common comrade. Even Orin, the storyteller, had a wide grin on his face from his pace near the ship's old mast. Edreina had not seen her people react to any story in quite awhile. She found herself applauding after a salutary whoop, face broken into a wide grin. She had never heard a creation story from the Myrians, and part of it caused her to wonder what tales her own people had about their creation. Always, Svefra speak of their latest accomplishment - whether singularly or as a pod - but never of their race's history as a whole. Nonetheless, she had quite enjoyed the man's animated tale and decided to seek him out afterwards. She would ask him more about his people, what they were like, how they lived, why he was here. Once the gathering began to break up for the night, Edreina rose slowly and began to make her way over to him, a salmon trapped in a stream of people as they headed towards the largest gangplant, threading her way through any opening. Once there, she saw a little girl was offering him a large, spiral shell. A rather cute gesture, one that children were infamous for doing. Edreina smiled and patiently waited her turn to speak to the stranger, curiosity reaching hightide as she waited.

[Razkar]

Razkar soaked up the applause gratefully, feeling his ego swell just at the sound of it... and then a tiny tugging bought him back down to earth. Or deck. Whatever.

He looked down and there was a small form looking up curiously at him. In her hands was a beautiful white seashell, inlaid with purple spirals. He frowned, curious despite himself, leaning down to have a closer look. The Myrian took it and turned it over, studying it closer...

Flecks of gold underneath it. Ribbons of pearl like waves. He looked up from it into the guileless blue eyes and saw the chubby face break into a smile.

"You told a good story."

"My thanks." For a long moment Razkar stalled, and then started fumbling with his necklace. A gift demanded a gift, and he could certainly give her something. What kind of Myrian would he be if he did not? "I can give bead, or trophy, if-"

"No." The child shook her head as if confused, putting up a hand in a gesture that belied her age. Two adults he assumed were her parents beamed with pride. "You gave the story."

Razkar was... humbled. He chided himself for soaking up that applause so greediy, allowing his ego to be stroked. What had he told himself? The story matters, not the teller. She had reminded him of that, and he bowed with respect, pocketing the strange, beautiful shell.

"My thanks again, little one. What is you name?"

"I am Seti."

"I am Razkar."

Then he was aware of another figure. Also female but older, and with... was that some kind of rash? Myrians did not have freckles and he couldn't help but stare curiously as the pale-faced woman glided closer to him, his own curiosity mingled in her eyes. She was pretty beneath her strange red marks, even he could see that.

He bowed a second time as Seti and her parents left.

"I hope you enjoy story, mistress."

[Edreina]

Edreina watched the exchange with a smile, crossing her arms behind her back so that her fingertips rested upon the inside of opposing elbows. He could see the awe in his eyes as he looked at the shell's surface more closely. When he looked up at the girl, she must have seen a queer look in his eyes for her small lips broke into a wide grin in an instant. The girl then did something very brave, though she knew not why it occurred. The little girl raised her hands to the fierce looking Myrian and shook her head, saying something too quietly for Edreina to hear. Edreina was even more surprised to see a humbled look flash over the Myrian's face. When the girl and her parents left, the man bowing to them again, the curious Svefra walked over slowly, lightly upon her feet as a habit from years upon a rocking boat. "Your story was wonderful!" Edreina said once she was a bit closer, stopping a few feet away out of courtesy. "My name is Edreina," she continues, smiling slightly at the use of the land strider honorific 'mistress'. "I just wanted to come over and thank you for sharing it with us." Though her Common is not perfect, it is better than the Myrian's from years of speaking with non-Svefra traders. Idioms still confuse her without fail, but she can convey her feelings properly, with the most basic diction. "I don't mean to pry, but what is a forest dweller, such as yourself, doing upon the Flotilla?" She knew that in proper company, such direct questions should be saved until after niceties. But, considering her current company, Edreina had the feeling that this stranger would enjoy direct conversation as much as she does. Also, Edreina had the thought that using overly 'pretty' speech, as is usually expected of her, might confuse or even offend the guest. Perhaps it was her maturity rearing its ugly head, or perhaps many scoldings from Aunt Ceona had finally sunken in.

[Razkar]

"I just wanted to come over and thank you for sharing it with us."

Razkar's head nodded again, and he was mature enough to keep his smile humble, not smug. He spread his dark, worn hands and gave a tiny shrug under his scalp-hewn cloak, now reclaimed after his tale was done.

"I speak my best. Have heard many times from clan. My family. Not told it to people not Myrian before. It is... strange..." he cast a long look around the now-sparse deck, across the Svefra gathered there and smiled softly as some of them glanced his way and nodded or raised drinks, not muttering or scowling "... but very good. Worth telling."

"I don't mean to pry, but what is a forest dweller, such as yourself, doing upon the Flotilla?"

Instant and unbidden, Razkar's guard was raised. Obsidian eyes snapped to her light blue ones a little too quick, almost like a snake spying a mouse... or a wolf a trap. How would he respond to that? More to the point, why was she asking? She seemed an innocent young thing, but what was she? A captain? Perhaps a warrior? Well, that he doubted, but she was asking questions, and...

What she is she is. Just as you are what you are. Don't ruin the night with evasions, lies and hard stares.

The Myrian blinked, and his gaze softened. He smiled and leaned against the side of the ship, strange little smile back on his face. The bonfire threw shadows across his inked face, which could appear demonic or just plain exotic depending on his mood. Now he looked like some carved pagan totem, observing its worshippers...

"This place is... not like Riverfall," he said, as if avoiding her question, "People here, not... hmm... word is... sneer? Yes, they do not sneer at me. Look at me like savage." He gave a deep chuckle and shrugged again, eyes glinting with amusement. "But I am savage, so I guess is true. But they treat like... like not worth what they are. Hated that."

He looked down briefly, and decided to tell her a truth. Not the whole truth, and certainly no truth an Akalak of Riverfall would agree with, but still...

"I could not stay there any more. People hate me. I was... I broke rules. Had to leave. So, I take ship called Cuttlefish. Pay Captain Tonio to take to Sylira?" He cocked his head and frowned minutely, looking into this Edreina's eyes. "You know him and ship?"

[Edreina]

Edreina saw the man's guard raise like a wall of stone over his eyes, hardening even the skin around them as he looked her over in an untrusting manner. The shift nearly frightened Edreina, forcing her to lean back onto her left foot, hands tightening on the insides of her elbows out of instinct. For the moment, his facial expression matches his savage appearance - a cornered wolf... No, a cornered tiger. His eyes continue to scan her warily for a moment, before pausing at her eyes once more, and his expression relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps niceties beforehand would have been appreciated, she notes to herself, scolding herself for jumping to assumptions in such a way. Finally, the wall went down entirely; Edreina relaxed as well. The Myrian smiled and lazed against the side of the ship, his body taking on the catlike air once more, but this time that of a cat that lazes upon a warm deck at midday. His smile was strange though, as if he was surprised at himself for some reason. In the firelight, his piercings cast strange shadows upon his face, his tattoos look like wholes in existence itself, like staring off of the edge of the boat while in open water. So, he liked it here because Svefra were so used to seeing people of every culture and race, that they treated him with only mild curiosity. Yes, they would view him as a savage, his appearance belied little civilization or culture. His response caused only more questions to bubble up within her, but she put a lid on the stew and let it simmer, flavors melding together to create more simply layered flavor that would manifest as singular questions instead of an unending flow. The Cuttlefish... Well known for transporting ill-educated foreigners for exorbitant prices. Edreina sighted and rested her hands upon her increasingly feminine hips - If I don't go back to swimming soon... her eyes automatically flitted to a woman walking by who had a little more meat on her than most Svefra, a sign of a long time spent upon the Flotilla. Mind returning to the events at hand, her eyes returned to the dark ones. "I know of it... How much did he charge you to cross? Nevermind... not my business." Her inner Whitewave would focus on business aspects when they came into conversation - a behavior that she loathed, but it helped her get a fair deal when selling her wares. Edreina looks to the side and sees that Orin has retired below deck along with his wife. The two now stood alone upon another's vessel, not uncommon, but not entirely polite either. "Would you like to walk with me? I could show you around, if you would like... Take you to a ship where you can sleep for the night?"