PM to join [Midnight Market] Wrong Place, Right Time (Nickolai)

[Verena Lorak]

Wrong Place, Right Time
21st of Summer, 514 A.V.

It had been two seasons since she had last visited the Midnight Market. The place bothered her in a way she couldn’t explain. Though it probably had something to do with its dangers. A few years back, Verena had seen man murdered in front of her own eyes and since then the Midnight Market was avoided. Most of the time. She found herself preferring the dark streets than facing city vendors who would ask too many unnecessary questions, especially when they knew she was the sister of Lorana Lorak. Here, under the colorful lanterns, Verena was nondescript, wrapped in a worn, black cloak with her face hidden under its hood.

Especially when she wanted to buy drugs. It would raise too many questions and gossips, so she would prefer to be discreet. Verena wanted to experiment with some drugs, trying to manifest its properties for medicine. She had no experience with such substances, but as a wealthy Dynasty, she had no trouble with failing and buying the ingredients. So yes, she was willing to experiment.

Verena had never really purchased drugs so she was not sure what to look for. Earlier, she had thought of dragging her brother along – he’s quite well-versed in his knowledge of drugs and poisons. But if Zorane knew where she was going, she doubted he would have allowed her to go. So far, Verena had been walking down the plaza, eyeing vendors and sellers. People brushed past her, looking as mysterious as she did. Suddenly, she regretted not bringing her cutlass along and not taking Caedmon’s offer to teach her how to use the weapon. She reminded herself to give the message to Cassius once they meet.

She was being slightly paranoid and walking into a less crowded part of the plaza intensified the fear. Maybe, she should return tomorrow night, dragging Hallan along. He was no fighter, but at least his presence would provide some comfort and unlike Cassius or Zorane, he wouldn’t be able to stop her from going.

Feeling the back of her neck crawling, Verena looked over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the darkness for a moment before meeting a pair of eyes trained right at her. It was a man who seemed to be in his late twenties. She glanced away, unsettled by the gaze. He wasn’t so far back and she wondered if she should break into a run. The Lorak took a deep, calming breath and hastened her steps.

She turned again and yet, found that the man had disappeared. Puzzled, she didn’t even realize that someone was standing in front of her and bumped right into the figure. Her head snapped up and as she recognized the same man, she reeled back clumsily. He grabbed her left arm, catching her mid-fall.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, miss,” he said, his words slurred and the smell of alcohol filled her nose. He did not let go of her arm. “I’m simply a fortune teller wanting to share my services to the fair lady.”

“Let me go.” She tried yanking her arm away. No luck.

“It’s just a quick reading.” His fingers slid down to her wrist and flipped her palm upward. His eyes widened at the sight of the black ink on her skin. “Isn’t that a magnificent tattoo?” he said as he ran his thumb on the coiling snake of the Lorak on her inner wrist. “Are you a slave? I doubt it, you’re too fine for that.”

[Nickolai Marin]

Regardless of city or region, there will always be those places where the most sordid members of society congregate. These places, typically the definition of shady in nature, draw thieves, cutthroats, and other such dogs like moths to an open flame. For the young prowler, this truth made itself evident in the form of Kenash's Midnight Market. Now, while it was a stark contrast to the back alleyways of Zeltiva, it still offered the same goods and services he had become accustomed to over the years. Drugs, tools, contacts, and everything in between. All were available to any with the stones to use them, and the coin to pay for them. 'Twas through eavesdropping at a tavern that Nickolai first learned of this place; and he had only just now decided to pay it a visit.

As he strode calmly about the Market, there was not a single feature that made him stand out. As typical, his mask was in place and his hood was raised; effectively veiling his identity from prying eyes. For the moment, the young prowler was simply browsing what this particular stretch of road had to offer...and the only thing that caught his eye was a piece of equipment that he had not think to purchase. 'Twas a simple cone of sorts which could be utilized to eavesdrop on conversations. Having placed his focus upon stealing food and money throughout the years, information was not exactly high on Nickolai's list of priorities. However, as Kenash seemed to be ruled by inter-Dynasty politics or something, information could potentially be valuable...

So, he decided to go ahead and purchase the item, but not before attempting to haggle with the seller. Originally the price was seven silver-rimmed mizas, but Nickolai managed to persuade him to drop it down a single coin. Sure, it was not that much of a price drop, but cheaper was cheaper! Once the item was in hand, the young prowler placed it within the pouch located upon his belt and continued along...only to hear a female's voice. Now, typically Nickolai did not busy himself with what went on in these sort of places, but it was the words she said which captivated his attention. "Let me go." she said, and judging from the slurred response which came after, her demand was fruitless. Turning, the young prowler saw the situation unfolding and decided to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

"Typically, when a lady says let go, a gentleman would oblige." came Nickolai's words. He spoke loudly, enough to threaten the placement of undue attention upon the drunk. That, and the young prowler intentionally placed his dominant hand upon the hilt located upon his belt. Sure, it was tied as per the law, but for a drunk that fact probably wouldn't register. A threat was a threat, after all. "So, how's about being a gentleman and taking a hike, hmm?"
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[Verena Lorak]

When another man approached them, Verena knew she was in trouble. There was still a minuscule of chance for her to escape if she had to deal with a single attacker, but two? With her heart rate rising, the healer could feel her hands sweating in panic. It had reminded her all to well of her past.

A foul hand over her mouth, cutting off her airway. Another one trying to control her trashing. Her eyes widening as she watched someone slamming a rock against Zorane's head. Verena willed the flashes to stop. It was not anything like that. They were children then and completely innocent. She could think of a way out, somehow.

But instead of coming at her, the new stranger said, "Typically, when a lady says let go, a gentleman would oblige."

Verena didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief. Her bright eyes were still alert, trying to work out a way out of this situation. There was no way to be sure that this man had good intentions. It was the Midnight Market, after all. The fact that his face was shrouded in the shadows didn't ease her worry. She prayed to Rak'keli that he would not notice the mark of the Loraks on her wrist. It was foolish not to cover it up, but she had never imagined anyone coming up to her and forcefully grabbing her wrist.

"It's none of your business, you shyke," the drunken man replied, still keeping an iron grip around her wrist. But from the way he was looking at the other, it wouldn't take much for him to start a fight and forget about her entirely. Hopefully.

The Lorak slowly found herself hardening with determination and asked, "What do you want?" She was not about to be that useless damsel in distress. Verena was a healer, tasked to save people's lives. So, why couldn't she save herself?

OOCSorry this took so long and ended up being so short >.<

[Nickolai Marin]

For some reason, the young larcenist was not surprised by this response. Perhaps it was because, no matter how "classy" or "wealthy" a city seemed to be, there would always be scum lurking in the corner. Or, perhaps it was the fact that Nickolai simply did not expect the best out of drunkards. Whichever it was, upon hearing the response of the man, the young larcenist began assessing his options. The easy route was to simply turn on his heel and walk away...but that would never sit right with him. This only left the hard route, which would probably end with some form of injury. Coming to terms with the fact that pain was imminent, Nickolai slid his eyes to the woman...Who apparently wasn't in the mood to receive assistance.

Which was almost humorous, considering the fact that he was contemplating getting his face smashed to free her from this sticky situation.

For a moment, the young larcenist simply gave the man a subtle look up and down. He assessed that his age was older than his own; which coupled with his intoxicated state played well for Nickolai's confidence. However, age and drunkenness did not necessarily denote victory...With a gentle sigh, the young larcenist then took a step closer before addressing the woman. "What I want is for this brute to unhand you." he said, before doing something he was sure to regret. Having not been in a physical altercation since the days of his youth, balling his dominant hand into a fist with the intent to strike was something that felt awkward. However, this did not deter the young larcenist from taking yet another step forward before rearing back as swiftly as he could.

His arm lashed out from the side: a quick "haymaker" aimed straight for the man's chin. Now, if Nickolai was a seasoned fighter, this would be the sort of maneuver that would result in the drunk being laid flat out on his arse with no damage inflicted upon himself. However, the young larcenist held his fist wrong; and the impact of bone upon bone in such a way was sure to cause some form of harm...whether it be a simple bruise or a hairline fracture. Regardless, Nickolai put as much force behind this punch as he could and reveled in the solid "thwap!" of his fist meeting the drunk's face...Before his face contorted in pain.

Leaning back, Nickolai gripped his injured hand with his offhand; swearing under his breath whilst half-doubling over. He hoped that his surprise blow was enough to release the woman's hand so that she might get away from the drunken bloke.
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[Verena Lorak]

Verena's peculiar eyes flicked to the new stranger. "I was not asking you." Though, his words reassured her somewhat. Maybe he truly wanted to help and the Lorak could really use some help.

Surprisingly, the man swung his fist and it connected to the older man's face. Verena reflexively, withdrew her arm and because of the distraction the vice-like grip had loosened, allowing her escape. Both men started cursing in pain. The young woman stepped back, slightly taken aback. Heads were swiveling in their direction, but then the gazes were quickly averted.

Avoiding further conflict, her assaulter left with a glaring scowl. It left Verena with the stranger who had helped her. Honestly, it was a surprise that she met someone decent in the Midnight Market, but she was still thankful. Who knew what would have happened if this man was not there? Knowing her status, anything could have happened. Dynasties were not well-liked by the rest of Kenash.

The man was holding his hand, looking somewhat in pain and immediately the healer softened. "Give me your hand." Not waiting too long, Verena reached for the stranger's hand. It was a sort of injury that she was familiar with. Occasionally some Dynasties - men and boys - would come to her complaining that they might have broken their hand in a fight. It was an amateur's injury, so she guessed this man was no fighter.

Gently, she extended the man's fingers for inspection.

OOCShould have done this much much sooner x_x