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[Razkar]

It's just a dance. There's no harm in it. Once dance, probably just to make her commander look like a stiff-limbed fool.

She's probably just trying to make up for the whole "shooting you" fiasco.

Isn't it amazing the shyke you can convince yourself with a few bottles of liquor in you?

Razkar half-stumbled and was half-dragged by the Drykas across the heaving dance floor, not that the mass of humanity was a real problem: one look at him and most just scurried out the way like rats before a terrier. Not Moretta, though. Once she got him far enough away, she turned, hands on his hips-

-no, apparently not-

-around his neck, fingers at the back of his neck.

"Hands on my hips... sir..."

Some still small voice begged Razkar to listen but he did not, the fuzz and warmth of treacherous lethshine commanding his hands as he indulged a... harmless vice. So, the scout wanted to make nice? Fine. He put his hands where she wanted and tried to remember any barbarian steps... failed.

What's everyone else doing?

Everything, as it turned out, but Moretta was clearly thinking a little faster than her boss for a change. Her body was already swaying, gyrating softly, in ways that made the male see for the first time she was... actually quite lovely. Her eyes danced and gleamed like daggers in an alley tonight, and when she gave him a small, sideways smile that oozed an unexpected promise, Razkar couldn't help but make one back.

"Not used to me like this, are you?"

A whirl of red hair over her shoulder, just a flash, then lost amid the bobbing head around them, but enough for Razkar to have a glass of ice water dumped on his face... and take a step or two back.

"Is, ah... strange. Not... Not r'lly... bad, but-"

"Out of character?"

"Well... yes, so-"

"How'dja feel about this, then-"

That same voice knew what she was going to do, but the much larger voice (the one that sounded like Seb looked), blithely ignored it with the casual amorality of the drunken, even willed Razkar to close his eyes when her lips met his-

Spicy, tangy, demanding lips, rougher than the soft press of his Svefra, so... different-

"Cock-juggling thunder-cunt!"

Oh, fuck-

Everything happened faster than his drink-addled mind could process. The stinging kiss was ripped from his lips and his eyes snapped open, only blind, blood-born instinct driving his hands to his weapons-

-perhaps deciding he'd need them when he saw Edreina-

-thundering, yelling, snarling-

-and she'd never looked more beautiful when she hammered home a perfect left cross into the stunned Drykas' face. Razkar blinked a few times, but time was slowly, turgid and stuck in the mud, it seemed, and the flaming female roared and screamed, elbows and arms and legs swinging brutally, efficiently, just like he'd taught her-

-but sending ripples around the room in a place where they would piss off nasty fishies.

"Oi, watch yerself!"

"It wasn't me, it was-"

"Wasn't you, eh?! Well, fuck ya-"

"Fuck you think yer doing?!"

"Fuckin' want some, too?!"

"Both of you calm the-"

"Fuck off!"

Numerous variations of that charming social conflict were played out as dancer nudged into drinker toppled into bruiser fell over drunk and within moments, like some hideous lesson in cause an effect, half the bar was throwing punches, bottles and bar stools. The Valini mercenaries needed little incentive, sodden with drink and eager for a release, hurling themselves into the fray... and in one's case, from the top of the table.

"Get up and fight! Petching prove yourself!"

Oh, right, the cat fight.

Razkar swing his head back around and he swore he could see vapor trails coming from the tumult of angry, brawling figures... but only two grasped his attention. Edreina let out here hate-laced challenge and put the boot to Moretta while she was down, air hammered from her lungs with a painful, blood-flecked gasp-

"Alright, fucking enough!"

-until the towering (literally: you could have put a light on him and invented a lighthouse) form of Samson waded through the scrum of fighting scum like a sea god through waves, one struggling brawler actually carried under his arm like a sack of potatoes, another hand the size of Razkar's head reaching out-

-snagging it, pulling her away, eliciting a pained yelp-

Razkar's drunken stupor fell away; dissolved by an icy rage like fire behind a glacier, the sight of the scowling bouncer lifting Edreina up like a kitten making his hands move by themselves-

-stepping forward quickly, stooping to pick up a tossed and broken-legged bar stool-

"No!"

-and ignoring that desperate voice as he swung it around at Samson's barn-door-broad back, shattering it into kindling with an impact so jarring it shook his arms.

Samson didn't budge. Didn't stumble. Did nothing other than look around quickly, still scowling, blinking a few times as if he was realizing that, yes, someone was suicidal enough to still try and mix it with him-

-and there was Razkar, holding the remnants of the weapon in his hands, looking up and up at the coal-skinned human like a mouse before an elephant.

"... er..."

"Bad move, lad-"

"Ah, shyke-"

Seb had never seen a Myrian fly. He'd always heard the stories of them being demons or monsters or whatever, but flight had never entered those whispered tales. But as he looked up from an expertly-delivered boot to the groin (even if he did so himself), tracking a thin scream that sounded oddly familiar-

-he saw Razkar flailing above the biting, scratching, frenzied scrum that was being whittled away by the others bouncers of the Mansion, glasses shattering and tables turned into weapons or barricades-

-and a wailing, cursing Razkar crash into the mirror over the bar.

"Ooof..." Seb winced his sympathies and started to work his way over to help, dragging Manny with him as an afterthought. "'es's un feel tha' t'murra..."

[Edreina]

The high, pain sound aptly fit Edreina's predicament as Samson lifted her from her feet by her hair, pulling her away from the still-heaving Moretta with a contemptuous muttering that sounded akin to, "Should've known it wouldn' be the Myrian." The big man's body shuddered oddly and the Svefra found herself dropped as he turned slowly, overshadowing whoever had gotten wasted enough to believe they could take on the giant.

She heard a growl in Myrian the instant before she saw one fly.

Raz... the redhead thought blandly. They had to get out of here. The Svefra ran back to their table, sending a rough shove into the barely standing half-blood's stomach as she ran by - woman could surely hold a grudge. Her hands trembled with adrenaline as she gathered their belongings and then ran over to where Seb and Manny were helping her lover up.

Gods, did she really start a bar-brawl?

Nodding to the two men, Edreina helped them escape the roiling sea that was the Mongrel's Mansion, even holding the door open as the trio fell into the street, all groaning, Seb laughing. "'S a real fight, lass," he said, clapping the thin woman on the shoulder. "'N't think ye haddit inya!" At that Edreina could not help but smile despite the dense cloud settling over her heart.

"Hadta learn, bein' wit' you louts all season," she replied, pointedly keeping her eyes off of Razkar as she fought the urge to hit him, kiss him, and a dozen other ale-addled things.

"S'almost as good as whenya took tha' bottle 'n' whallop-" Manny began, grinning sloppily.

"Yep! Almost as good..." The hard edge crept back into Edreina's eyes and voice as she pointedly made it known that such was a subject she did not care to revisit.

An air of pure awkward settled over the four.

"Right," Seb inserted wisely, still swaying in place, "Ya two've sureleh had 'nough ta drink. I, 'n tha oth'rhand, have not." And, with that, the he drug/leaned on Manny in search of another den of debauchery.

The lovers were left alone save for the dozens of eyes watching them, wondering about the cacophony spreading from the Mongrel's Mansion. A thousand words bit at the Svefra's tongue as she finally looked at Razkar, be it with her face downcast so that he was obscured by thick black lashes. Finally, she resigned herself to wait until they were alone; public squabbling was not her preference.

"C'mon... Let's find somewhere to stay and I'll help ya get patched up..." she said quietly, keeping hold of their belongings, shuffling ever so slightly where she stood. Another sigh left her lips, chest rising and falling dramatically in a universal symbol of a weighted mind. Taking her eyes from him once again, she motioned for him to lead them somewhere. She trusted his instinct about finding a safe enough place to lay their heads.

Once in a room with him, she would lean against the wall and simply ask him what had happened. Where most women would launch into a flurry of screaming wrath, she had found it better to give a man a chance to explain himself before voicing her... concerns.

[Razkar]

He was dimly aware that, eventually, two became four. Before that, his vision (such as it was) went from horizontal to... somewhat vertical. Feet apparently belonging to him - though he could have been mistaken - hustled him away from loud, angry noises and into the cool air that would have been refreshing if not for the fact his head felt way too large.

He'd hit Samson with a chair. What had been the point of that?

The man touched your female. That was reason enough.

"Tew tha' t'my achin' fuckin' back..."

The Svefra looked sharply and worriedly at the Myrian swaying in front of her like some drunken bloodhound, stolidly planting one foot before the other as they meandered deeper into Zeltiva. Now and then she'd had to drag him into an alley as a patrol of joggling, clanking Waveguard hustled by... but eventually, he was doing that.

She hoped it was because he was sobering up.

"Right..." He managed to mutter in their shared tongue, shaking his head until it was the proper size. "Beds."

They were deep in unknown territory now, voyaging in the parts of the map usually labeled "Har Be Monstyrs". Only now the slithering beasts were skittering figures in the shadows, whispering shades and looming frames that were kept at bay only by the armory covering the Myrian's body. But eventually, they found themselves in an area pockmarked with the signs of combat, something Razkar's eyes could grasp and absorb.

Windows dark and gutted and framed with scorched wood and stone. Remnants of barricades now scattered and cannibalized for firewood, or simply returned to the homes they'd come from. Graffiti that Razkar perused with sharp intent in the manner of all drunks, but could not fathom.

"SLAVES NO MORE!"

"THE QUARTER IS FREE!"

"DEATH TO THE OPPRESSORS!"

"I think..." He said eventually, and the fog blurring his brain finally lifted. "... we are in the... Denvali Quarter."

Razkar didn't know what that meant, really; he just understood what it meant to them. Fragments of conversation from that day returned to him: some sort of coup or uprising, quashed before it could really begin, a grand rebellion instead taking form as scattered outbreaks of vicious mob violence and pitiful urban warfare.

Now the whole north part of the city, overwhelmingly populated by a people alien to the rest of the City of Scrolls, was permeated with defeat, simmering anger, suspicion and mourning.

"... there."

One of the few buildings with lights in the window, lanterns over a sign that illuminated the words "Tavern And Hostel". They made their way over and Razkar opened the door, wondering just how bad they looked-

-and the wide eyes of the beardless youth behind the bar told him exactly how bad. Still, he shrugged and they stepped inside out of the cold. The handful of patrons, most huddled around the fireplace, ceased their talking immediately, predictably taking in the strange sight of the Savage and the Sea Walker.

"Need a room, my friend." Razkar said without ado, placing enough coins on the table to get him a suite in a mansion. "With no questions, if you take my meaning..."

The young male had the same red hair as Edreina; didn't Razkar read somewhere that the Denvali had the same ancestors as the Svefra? Blue eyes flickered from the black-eyed and wincing savage... down to the small mound of gold... to Edreina... lingered for long enough for Razkar to growl softly-

"Could be arranged." One firm scoop made the coins vanish and a key replaced them. "Upstairs, third door on the left. What you gave'll do ya for the week. Food is served at tenth and eighteenth bell for an hour each time. Don't be late."

Razkar took the key. Three chimes later the door clicked to a close behind them and Razkar had not only locked it but jammed the sole chair in the room under the handle, before turning-

-and seeing a welcome in vision with red hair and a weary expression leaning against the wall... hands on her hips and long, tired exhalation forcing its way from her lips...

The Myrian just stared. Lethshine was a potent brew, truly, but even it could fade, especially after being doctored by a gigantic human hurling the drinker halfway across a bar and into a mirror.

And the sight of actual Leth shine playing over her pale, beautiful face was a tonic all unto itself.

She started to speak but the words were drowned by a pounding in his ears. After a half-tick, Razkar understood it was actually a growl purring from his lips, but he was in no position to care, and when Edreina turned to him, calm question on her lips-

-his own crashed into hers, pinning her to that wall, hands already roving over her with all the turncoat passion that Moretta had nearly stoked but never truly seen, reserved for Edreina alone.

Steel and iron clattered onto the floorboards. Rustling clothes followed them soon after, the two scrabbling, gasping creatures no longer needed such impediments.

Just another window in Zeltiva. One of thousands. Single candle sputtering on the table throwing shadows across them, twisting, contorting, falling onto the simple sheets covering the double bed... and the figures fell from Leth's peeping tom vision... and were seen no more by the wounded city.

Reciept-20GM

[Taylani]

XP Award!

Razkar:

XP Award:

• +2 intimidation
• +4 leadership
• +3 socialization
• +1 negotiation
• +3 Drinking
• +1 dancing

Lore:

• No to leading sell swords to syliras
• Edreina: Relief of the darkness
• Mongrel’s Mansion: Must Behave

Notes: .




Edreina:
XP Award:

• +1 riding
• +5 Socialization
• +1 negotiation
• +5 observation
• +3 swimming
• +3 drinking
• +1 dancing
• +2 brawling

Lore:

• Sweet embrace of the ocean
• Moretto: Trouble, had to die

Notes:

Comments :

Feel free to pm me any questions about the grade and don’t forget to edit/delete your grade request.

TAYLANI