Closed [Deadfang] Speak Your Piece

[Capricious]

Timestamp: To be determined by the player.
Players Involved: Deadfang
Reason for Thread: Hiring

Magic was a touchy subject in The Spires. Not everyone was for it, but not everyone was against it either. The Jamoura held the belief that nature should be left alone unless necessary and magic tended to interfere with this. While some magics, such as Auristics, was more accepted than others, many magics did exist in the city. Those who practiced magic were watched carefully by the Hahk'Shatara. A perfect example are Kessan and Davan, the maledictors of The Spires. The Jamoura upheld that it was better to be on good terms with the pair than bad and they are allowed to practice so long as they cause no harm.

A Deacon had been approached by a young Zith, Deadfang, who sought to become a maledictor of the city. The young woman wanted to sell her wares on any petal she chose. The Deacon had instructed her to approach the Memory when they met at the Memorium and plead her case. If the Memory chose to give her permission, she would be allowed to conduct business. Otherwise, the Zith would be denied and told to find a different career.

On this very night at the Memorium, all previous business had been conducted. Deadfang had waited to be the last person to address the Memory because her request was more unusual and may take the longest time. Deadfang would never admit it, but she was a tad nervous as well. One Deacon rose to his feet, wise Jamoura eyes looking out over the small crowd that had gathered. The Jamoura were intelligent individuals and trusted the memory, but many gathered to see the latest news and gather information, along with speak their opinion. "If there are any more topics to be brought to view, please rise and state your name and issue. Please be aware you will only be given one chance to speak unless we require more information. Each individual here is allowed to state his or her opinion on the matter."

[Deadfang]

Timestamp: Spring 10, 513 AV Deadfang sat quietly in her seat while the Memory was in session, fidgeting constantly, longing to stretch her wings, to feel the breath of Zulrav on her face, to be back in the embrace of Leth. Normally she wouldn't be bothered with the business of the Spires, but she'd recently learned that one could sell their Malediction wares. She'd never before wanted to make more money, as she got by on her own talents, feeding herself, getting anything she'd needed on her own. But lately she'd been feeling stir crazy in her colony, ever since her mother had died. She had no mate, and not for a lack of trying. All the males were either not vicious enough, too controlling, or had nothing but stones between their ears. She'd heard that she could have a home here in the Spires, but for that, she'd need money. Maybe one day she'd travel, she'd heard rumors of some cities that allowed Zith in without killing them. So she asked around about how to sell things, and was directed to someone called Deacon. It was such a strange name for anyone to have, but they'd instructed her to come here. She looked all around the wooden cave, seeing mostly the furry Jamoura. She saw a handful of others, some humans, and their strange fur-less skin. What she didn't see though, were any other Zith. She didn't understand many of the things the Memory discussed today, but she tried. She'd heard them discuss things like repairing the nets, finding more people named Deacon, and how the winter affected food stores. They all talked slowly, carefully choosing their words, then discussing each topic in turn. Finally, the Memory opened the floor to a new topic, and Deadfang new it was her time. Her stomach was in knots, like that time she was pinned in a cave by all those wolves. She was rarely scared, but speaking in front of all these people, who could build cities, and knew lots of fancy words made the hair on her neck stand on end. She swallowed hard, and slowly stood up, her wings wrapped over her shoulders like a cloak. This was no time for intimidation or ferocity. She'd have to try and be more like these creatures, rather than her own Zithness. "Um greetings Memory, and um... Deacons, and um... everyone else here." She swallowed hard, trying to steel her resolve, to not seem like someone that couldn't handle a simple matter like this. "I seek to be allowed to sell wares of my craft. It is known as Malediction. I am a Zith, my name is Deadfang, of the nearby Knyvz colony, friends of the city of the Spires. As a Zith, I hunt animals for food. I learned from a young age to try my best to not waste parts of a hunt, bones, furs, feathers. I taught myself how to craft these parts I cannot eat into more useful tools. Then my mother taught me how to further their usefulness through Malediction. She died recently, and now I am finding my way through life." She sighed, surprised that she'd managed to make it this far. After her pause, she continued, "I believe strongly that Malediction furthers the usefulness of an animal beyond death. Tools that can be made, which can make more tools. We make tools for craft from bones, armor and clothing from furs, decorations from feathers. Malediction increases the variety and usefulness of the tools made. I do not hunt people, Jamoura, or anything that isn't an animal. I only use parts from animals I've hunted for food, and will not hunt them solely for Malediction purposes. I wish to become a more productive member of this city, and this is the best way I know how. I ask you to consider this all, and thank you for listening." She exhaled deeply, hoping her words would be able to sway these people. She had no idea what she would do if she couldn't do this. This was a passion of hers, a craft that she excelled in. She forced herself to keep still, to not fidget, for many eyes would surely be on her. Her stomach was no longer in knots, but felt like a hive of bees was within her. She gripped her knee, forcing herself to remain, for she was now sure they would deny her request. She was an instant away from flying out, and never returning, but she gritted her teeth, maintaining her seat.