[The Rat Hole] At the Blade's Edge

by **Tydus Tempest** on March 16th, 2014, 8:59 am

4th of Spring, 514. 3 bells after midnight.

How long had it been since Tydus had slept properly? Two weeks? Three? How long had it been since the Pod was destroyed, the Fist left in flames, the young Tempest scion unable to do anything about it. He didn't know, not bothering to learn the dates and times of the world now that Tydus walked it as a ghost, with nothing reminding him of his mortal coil save for the hunger that pulled at him, the punch on the shoulder that Adney occasionally threw at him in an attempt to wrest him from his thoughts. The recent return to the sea, the unsteady sway of the casinor, Laviku's Wrath, brought a tinge of pride, and with it, a hope. But, the hope washed away with the night terrors each night.

This was the reason that he was awake now. The terrors woke him, stirred him in his sleep, almost forced bellowing screams from his lips as he imagined the rotting faces of his podmembers, the mutilated throat of his Lia, the burning humiliation and grief that entered his mind as he watched, helplessly, as everyone close to him was felled by the arrows of destruction and fire raining down from a brig in the distance. It was brutalizing torture to watch it happen, repeatedly in the daylight, as thoughts scattered about senselessly through his skull. In the night, it was far worse.

He had burst from the hammock upon Laviku's Wrath, storming out of the room with his flask in hand, grateful that he had preserved the damned thing in his sash as he swam to shore with Vesh. It was his saving grace, the counter-measure to the consistent reminder upon his waist in the form of the Lia's beloved cutlass, the blessed ichor of rum, however tainted with salt water it was, promising a distraction from the world.

Which pub to go to? The Bull? No... been there before... Let's find something a bit less... Akalak... Freaky blue bastards. I want some good old fashioned human company.

The Svefra nodded slowly, a resolute expression upon his features as he traversed the empty walkways of Riverfall, scaling the hilly terrain of Riverfall in search of a place to belong. He didn't need to walk far, the Svefra taking several drinks from his flask, though he took care to preserve the blessed elixir, knowing that a tavern was likely to have cheap, efficient drink to swallow and calm the beast within. His gaze fell upon a rather dilapidated looking building, the prettiness of Akalak establishments lost as he read the words in Common on a sign posted on the door.

The Svefra's mind was beginning to buzz playfully from the drink, a grin marking his expression as he read the words, "The Rat Hole." He said it aloud before making the inevitable shift to Fratava, chuckling as he made his own assessment,

"More like the Shyke Hole. Well, time to go in. Hopefully there's some fun to be had."

Whether it was a wench, or a game he could play, he didn't care. He wanted to take his mind off of the shipwreck. He wanted to take his mind off of the remnants of a Pod he was forced to deal with. He wanted out of his life, and would do whatever he could to have just that, if only for a moment.

by **Tydus Tempest** on March 16th, 2014, 10:06 am

The Svefra cast his gaze about the tavern with a curious glance, eyebrows arched as he saw that the bartender was wearing an eyepatch. Were he more inclined for friendly conversation this morning, he'd have attempted to strike light-hearted conversation and perhaps eventually asking him where he got such a stylish garment. But, this day, he couldn't care less. Instead, he made his way to the man, looking him in his good eye as he pulled two silver mizas from his pocket, "Lad, if you will, set me up with five mugs of ale. Put them on the table over there, too. Gonna see if th'lad over there wants to play a game."

The Tempest scion motioned over to a circular table with the tavern's sole patron seated at it, an older, grizzled man with two daggers at his belt and a glazed over expression. Perhaps he was on drugs, or like Tydus, drunk, perhaps off-set and reflecting upon something, but Tydus didn't give a whale's arse about what was going on with him. Tydus was going to play a game, and the man looked like the prime, and only, target to fill Tydus' amusement. His thoughts immediately whirled towards the daggers at his belt, a chuckle escaping his lips as he stepped over to the man, seating himself in front of him as Tydus parted his lips to speak. He hated speaking Common, but it was both the language of man and the language of a gambler, so he resorted to it, hoping that the man would take the bait. And if not, then Tydus had a plan...

"Mornin'. You looked bored, man. Would ye mind a bit of company? We could make things interesting."

The old man barked out in anger, forest-green irises blazing with a drunken fury that the Svefra found to be to his benefit. "Interesting? Get the petch away from me, you filthy prostitute. I've only got the eyes for the ladies, you sick bastard." Tydus burst out laughing, shaking his head as he raised his hand, a twirl of the fingers allowing him to retain his focus as he pressed his voice into a calm, soothing register. Djed was impacted into the Svefra's eyes as his words inflected a sense of comfort, Tydus willing the magic of Hypnotism into his words with the intention of evening out the grizzled old man's temper. Anger didn't suit his purpose, but the clear drunkenness surely did.

He continued to chuckle, a bright, amused tone that shocked even the Svefra, words layered with the djed that he sought to manipulate into his advantage, staring deeply into the grizzled old man's eyes as he spoke next,

"HA! You and me both. Never touched the raw end of a spear that wasn't me own, ye grizzled landlubber. No, I mean a game. You want to play a game, don'tya? It's written on yer face." The older man seemed to pause in thought for a moment before letting out a chuckle at the words. Tydus tilted his head, wondering what was going through the scruffy drunk's mind, but he didn't have to wait long before he found out,

"Fine, lad. What sort of game are ye talking about? I'm not much for cards. More of a dice man, myself. And you?"

Tydus didn't petching know. He just wanted amusement. A dice game sounded fair enough in his own mind, yet he wondered if there was more he could add to it. The Svefra pulled the excess djed from his stare and continuing the conversation at an even playing field. Hypnotism was not a tool to be used lightly. To steer a conversation, to impose a single decision. Once that was accomplished, the Svefra stopped the notion. The shakesOvergiving. Tydus was never taught the proper term for it. He calls it the shakes because of how it blurs his vision while simultaneously bringing pleasure to him to the extent that his body moves visibly., as he called it, was not a poison that he liked to indulge in repeatedly. Drinking was bad enough without having to deal with the additional headache and lack of visibility.

"Dice souns' fine to me. Pull 'im out, and those daggers, too. We'cn up the ante straight from the star' up. A hand out, a dagger for each man. Win, and ye get ten mizas and the chance to stab me hand. Lose, n I get the dagger n' you get the raw end, instead."

The old man seemed to experience fear, his eyes widening as he listened to the Svefra's proposal, though when Tydus placed the bag on the table, he seemed to forget the fear, grinning and extending a hand to shake. Tydus offered the same, chuckling before the other replied,

"Alright then, lad. You've got yourself a deal. We'll play your game. But, add one more thing to the stakes. Winner gets off without payin' for his drinks, as well." The man pulled two silver mizas from his pocket, pressing them to the table and pushing them into the middle as Tydus did the same with the small pouch he carried his coins in.

Tydus hummed for a moment, considering the added stakes, merely a ploy, for this was absolutely suited to his interest. The man let out a reluctant sigh before pulling out an additional two silver mizas, setting them on the table before he replied, "Fine, ye lubber. Pinchin' me for all I get. That's fine. Let the game begin, then."

The Svefra waited for the man to pull both daggers, setting the one Tydus was to use in front of him before leading by example, stabbing the point of the dagger into the wooden surface of the table, encouraging Tydus to the same, which he did. The bartender let out a single bellow in protest before shrugging, perhaps deciding that the game of chance, being the only thing happening in the tavern, was too intriguing to put a lid on.

Instead, he brought the mugs of ale to the table, setting them between Tydus and his companion, Tydus setting his left hand on the table and holding the mug with his right, raising it to his lips to take a sip before he nodded to show his inclination for the grizzled old landlubber to continue with the game. The Tempest tapped at the wellspring of his djed, guiding it into his words as he nudged for the man to follow his command. "Lubbers who own die get to get first, mate. A'll wait." He grinned at the man, taking a second sip of his glass before allowed his djed to disperse once more. He'd never tried using Hypnotism in this way before, during a game of chance, but it was his opportunity to try. After all, what harm could it do?

by **Tydus Tempest** on March 17th, 2014, 12:05 am

The Svefra leaned back in his chair as he waited for the grizzled man to pull out his gambling medium of choice. A small, wooden cup was retrieved from a leather satchel, a set of three six-sided die placed on the table. The Svefra reached out to take one, a curious expression set upon his features as he noted the dots on each individual side.

It reminded him of his youth, memories stirring of elder Svefra rolling die and placing bet of material and daring task, for mizas were never exchanged between hands in Svefra culture. Tydus looked upon each side in turn, his fingers caressing the bone surface of the die, the pad of his index finger dipping into the indentations upon each one. The Svefra allowed the die to roll between his fingers before pressing it into his palm, carefully setting it upon the middle of the table before reaching for his mug of ale.

Tydus raised his mug to his lips, the cool glass against his lips echoing the sigh of satisfaction after he took a mouthful of ale and pushed it down his throat, grinning cheekily at his new 'friend' before draining the glass dry. The Svefra was nearing a full drunken state, though he still felt control over his body, merely a pleasant hum of the mind and a tingling feeling upon the flesh alerting him that his state of sobriety was slowly being put into question. He placed the now empty mug on the floor, passing a mug to the grizzled old man, who took it with a bow of the head.

"Alright, lad. Let's get down to business, then."

The normal placed each of the three die into the cup, clasping his hand at the mouth as he shook the container with both hands. Tydus arched his eyebrows in surprise, having thought that they were simply to roll a die each, but it wasn't an important detail. He'd wait for the man to explain the rules, something the man obliged to without Tydus needed to ask.

"I'm going to shake the cup. One of us will call even or odd, and the other either ten and higher or nine and lower. The one that wins the call doesn' have to put in a silver miza. We keep goin until the 'un guessing a number gets the number exactly right, and then the game ends. Sound righ' to you?"

The Svefra allowed a hum to escape his lips, his mind taking more than a few ticks than usual to process the rules of the game, though when he believed himself to understand, he nodded. "Souns' like a rush, lubber. Let's see how't goes."

The grizzled man nodded before shaking the cup in his hands, looking to the Svefra with wide green eyes of a ruddy normal as he announced his call, "Thirteen!"

The Svefra nodded in acceptance of his announcement, calling out, "Even," in response. The older man released his hold on the mouth of the cup, flipping the wooden container onto the table, pressing the mouth to the splintered, decaying wood for no less than three ticks before raising it up. The result... Ty counted up the numbers in his mind. Six... three... two... Eleven! Blast... The total was over ten, as the older man had called, forcing Ty to take a silver miza from within the pocket of his breeches and placing it upon the table. A 'tch' escaped his lips, yet the Tempest scion felt a rush building in his mind.

Is this how it feels to gamble? No wonder the Pod loved doing it so much... This is exciting... tense... I feel alive! A hearty chuckle escaped the Svefra's lips before he called out, "Aye, ye won this 'un, then. Me turn, right?"

by **Tydus Tempest** on March 17th, 2014, 12:02 pm

The Svefra took the cup in both hands, fingers traversing the polished wooden surface with care as a sort of reverence was held for it. It was an interesting thing, to be sure, and though the Svefra was currently a silver miza down, he could not help the grin that materialized upon his features. One hand released hold of the cup, the other continuing to caress the cup with its fingertips as Tydus collected each die in turn, holding the three dice in his right hand. The die had shuffled in the movement, two five faces and a three presented in the dim light of lantern's glow. The Tempest scion deposited the dice into the cup, clasping the mouth of it in his hand.

The motion was done in imitation of the grizzled man, Tydus shaking the cup in his hand, feeling the sensation of the dice pressing against his palm. The young Svefra shook the three dice within the cup for a good thirty seconds before he mimicked as the man did, pressing the mouth of the cup onto the table, the die clacking against the wooden surface as the Svefra raised his head to stare at the old man. "Odd, lad"

Tydus nodded, calling out, "Fifteen!" And again, the results were out of his favour. The die landed on a triple set of threes. The Svefra arched his eyebrows in astonishment before looking to the grizzled landlubber, who pulled the dagger out from its place on the table. "Time to up the stakes, lad... When all three faces land on the same number, we up the stakes. And I call... blood. Gimme yer silver, an' hold out yer palm."

Oh, petch... The thought echoed through his mind as he realized that the old man was serious, a trickle of fear pushing through his mind as he realized the severity of the situation he had forced himself into. A pause. Several ticks passed in silence before the Svefra pulled his flask out, taking a short pull from it in the effort to brace himself from the pain, to numb himself just the slightest bit more from the outside world before he extended his left hand forward, palm and fingertips facing the ceiling as the lubber skated the blade along the wooden surface of the table, teasingly cutting into the wood close to the Svefra's hands, baiting him.

And then, he brought the blade to the skin of Tydus' palm, the blade of the dagger tearing first through the outermost layer of skin, the grizzled bastard enjoying his victory before tearing through the next layer and the Svefra wincing as the blade went deeper, blood oozing from the wound as Tydus clenched his teeth from the pain. It burned at his palm, searing neural triggers through the hand and his body itself, his heart pounding in his chest as the inevitable rise in blood pressure occurred. His heart raced within his rib cage as fingers curled to protect the swelling skin, the tips pressing into the wound, staining with blood.

The smell of it... the iron-tanged musk filled his nostrils, taking back back to the bloodied and burning deck of the Waverunner's Fist, the Svefra shaking his head before passing the cup and die to the older man. "This isn' over yet, you sick bastard... Let's keep the game going."

The other man merely laughed at the insult, a bright grin materialized upon his features as the Svefra sized him up. He looked... in moderate condition. He'd likely have trouble if he tried to face him.

Petch... that hurts a bit. This shyke's not giving me anything, either... I'll get him next time. He hastened "next time's" approach by rushing the man off, embedding his djed into his words once again as he sought to quicken the pace of the game. Pain was not his friend, but by the Gods... he wanted to win. "Aye, lad. I don' think either of us have all nigh'."

The dice were put in for the third time that night, eager to be considered util. The old man shook the cup in hand, excited to proceed. As was Tydus. He wanted revenge for his silver and his hand.

by **Tydus Tempest** on March 19th, 2014, 9:14 pm

Blood dripped onto the table as Tydus replaced his hand upon the wooden surface, splinters scratching at the wounded flesh. Pain registered in the Tempest's mind, hazed by alcohol, a notion he encouraged by draining his third mug. He felt the edges of his vision begin to blur as the shaking of the dice within the cup filled his senses, bone upon wood clacking about inside as he impatiently awaited for the grizzled man to make haste.

The man shook the cup thrice more before he called out, "Eighteen." Tydus nodded slowly, making his own bet, "Even then, lad. Shake teh' dice."

And so he did. The dice rolled out of the cup one at a time, the clacks sounding through the empty tavern. Four. Six. Two. They were both right... What was to happen now? A draw? A re-roll? This game had a hole in its very design, but it was only sensible. After all, they were both drunk. The Tempest looked up at the old man, waiting for him to spring the decision as to what was going to happen, but even he seemed lost. The older man shook his head twice, then looked down at the dice again, as if unable to believe that the phenomenon of a mutual victory had occurred.

Shaking his head, the grizzled fool parted his lips to speak, "We both won, and both lost. Both of us pitch in, and both of us mark blood, then, lad." The Tempest scion arched his eyebrows, confusion arise in his expression. Raise the ante and the bloodshed? This seemed unacceptable to the Tempest, and he decided to try suggestion once again. Stakes were far too low. Tydus didn't want more pain to stack upon pain. If he was to lose, it would cripple him beyond imagination. He'd only be happy with a victory, or complete destruction.

The Svefra raised his other hand from the table, leaving the bloodied palm resting upon the splintered wooden table as he spoke, allowing the hand to be both his focus and his disguise for his Hypnotism. He stared deeply into the normal's eyes, the djed once again impacting into the ocean depths of the Svefra's eyes as he layered his words with a melodic, measured tone.

"You seek out only blood, my friend? There is greater carnage and greater coin in raising the-"

The old man closed his eyes, raising his head as he spoke out, interrupting the Hypnotist, "Lad, do NOT patronize me. Blood is its own reward. Pain is its own reward."

The Svefra shook his head in disgust, nodding in acceptance before he tried again, pushing more djed into his effort to sway the man's opinion, "Aye, lad. Blood is a reward, but coin is, as well. Wouldn't you rather up the stakes and have both if you win?"

Anger materialized upon the grizzled man's face as he gripped Tydus' hand, forcing open his palm and putting the unused dagger into it as he shook his head, "There's no talking your way out of this, Svefra. You get first slash, or I'll get ye for two."

The Svefra's vision began to blur as he retracted the djed from his eyes, feeling his vision sharpen for just a moment, the pores on the grizzled man's face visible for a single moment before his gaze blurred, the detail lost as the Svefra's body shook with the combination of discomfort of partial blindness and the pleasure of magic. In his mind, he felt a thought push itself into materialization.

Do MORE. Push MORE djed into him. Control him... Command him! The Svefra's eyes widened as he shook his head, shaking the thoughts from his mind despite being sorely tempted to obey it. He struggled for a smattering of ticks to suppress the thought, his dagger-wielding hand, his right, raising it. He pressed the tip of the dagger into the grizzled man's skin, pressing in. He felt the resistant of resilient skin against the blade before he pressed it in deeper, the tip of the blade tearing into the surface of the man's forearm, Tydus raising it with a quick swipe, his lack of knowledge with the weapon rendering him unable to keep the slash as a straight line.

Blood oozed from the jagged wound on the old man's shoulder, the man's fist gripping even tighter along the hilt of the dagger before he swung it, his expertise proved by the speed of the motion as Tydus felt the bite of the blade against his forearm. A shallow wound to match the old man's own, yet it was perfectly straight, blood trickling down Tydus' arm as a pained chuckle escaped him.

As Tydus was injured again, he decided that he didn't care anymore. Though the scar upon his throat showed him that he wished to live, the marks upon his hand and arm would forever show him that pain would no longer wound him physically restrict him.

What's my pain compared to the Pod's? Only Adney and I are left... They're gone. Destroyed. Exterminated. These scratches on my arm are nothing. I'm nothing.

by **Tydus Tempest** on March 21st, 2014, 9:02 pm

Hollow laughter escaped the Tempest scion's lips as he watched the old man gather the die for the fourth time. He had not yet managed to win, the slash upon his arm and hand showing the marks of his defeat, yet... he had learned. He watched the man's technique as he placed the dice within the cup, how he caressed each one and turned it to a particular side in an obvious show. The Tempest was mildly intoxicated, so perhaps he was hallucinating it, but he thought he saw a pattern. Was he rigging the rolls this way? He didn't know, but he knew that this time, he had to win. He had to. Victory was necessary to drive the Tempest forward. He wanted it, needed it.

He craved it.

Victory was validation. The validation that would prove that his inability to take his own life was with reason rather than stemming from pure cowardice. Validation for his worth in carrying on the name of his Pod, which only he and Adney were now given. He clenched his fists as he heard the repeated clacking of the dice, quickly smoothing his bloodied hand upon the surface of the wood, remembering the rules of the game he was playing. The other hand clenched tightly around the dagger. The grizzled man merely smirked, placing the cup upside down upon the table as he pressed his other hand, the one who's arm was already marred by the jagged cut, to the surface of the table.

"Call out yer' doom, boy. I say odd." The Svefra scowled at the other man's confident smirk, feeling none of the same, hating himself for it. He closed his eyes, allowing a breath to fill his lungs before he repressed the feelings again, the last of his mugs poured down his throat as eyes opened, a laugh marking a resigned smile, frothy with ale's foam before he called out, "Six, then."

Whatever fate had in store for him was to happen, and was the game to continue? Only fate could tell. He allowed his gaze to fall over the table again as the old man raised the cup. Four. One. One. Six? Was this the end of the game? The very same victory that Tydus desired was presented before him, and the Svefra took his chance. His hand gripped the dagger's hilt, rending it free from the table as he raised it over his head, the old man staring at the dice in shock just as the Svefra brought the dagger down.

His aim was for dead center of his palm, but his skill did not reflect the desire. His drunkenness even more so. The Tempest felt the resistance of bone upon dagger, though the former was torn apart by the finality of the strike. The dagger impaled the man's hand nearing the wrist, blood pouring onto the table from the wound. A scream was about to rise from the old man's lips, but Tydus covered his mouth with his other hand, instead, blood smearing upon the old bastard's face as Tydus whispered to him, "Quiet, now. While the proprietor of 'dis here place migh' find it okay to play 'dis game, the Akalaks migh' not. 'Tay might throw us out ta' sea."

The thought burst from his lips without a care, given that he wouldn't mind it in the slightest. He would remember it in the morning and perhaps laugh, but for now, he grinned at the grizzled fool. He took back the mizas he had lost, a total of three from the rising ante. He then collected the surcharge from both rounds of ale, another two. And lastly, he picked the pouch with his own gold upon the table, placing it in his pocket before taking the old man's dagger from the opposite side of the table.

In truth, he was likely entitled to the bloodied one in the old man's hand, but he didn't care right now. Tydus waved the dagger in front of him, chuckling under his breath as the grizzled man groaned in pain, his hand twitching under the blade, the other resting on the hilt as he gathered the strength to pull the dagger out. By the time he did, Tydus was already out the door, a hum emitting from his lips as the rush of victory flowed through him. His return to Laviku's Wrath was marred with stumbling into walls and falling to the floor, though when he arrived, he would fall into an immediate, dreamless sleep.

by **Ragdoll** on May 23rd, 2014, 10:47 pm

Grade Awarded!

Da Loot :

Though I try my hardest to award you what you deserve, I may occasionally mess things up! If there's something you'd like to discuss about your grade, then please don't hesitate to send me a PM and I'll be happy to work things out with you.

Skill	Points
Gambling	3
Hypnotism	3
Persuasion	3
Rhetoric	2
Socialization	2
Dagger	2
Leadership	1
Observation	1

Solo [The Rat Hole] At the Blade's Edge