Open [Event]Matrimony Interrupted (Kiera, Konrad, Gile)

[Balderdash]

24th of Fall, 516AV Beneath an amber evening sky, in the towering shadow of Blacksugar a grand drama was about to unfold. The setting was opulent as only a dynasty wedding could be. Lanterns lit the scene with their flickering orange light. Two enormous glossy roast boars laid at the center of a long table, bacon wrapped shrimp and sausages bursting from their open bellies. Buzzing throngs of freeborns bubbled at the periphery, jostling for space or a clear view swatting flies away from the man-sized piles of food laid out for them. Directly in front of Blacksugar’s doors the dynasts sat at their silk-clothed tables, shielded from the sweltering crowd and waited on by slaves. The Rajor were conspicuously absent along with the Zulaca. A pair of Konrath Konti gossiped behind their fans at their table whilst the lone Ackina at the event watched with a look of deep contemplation. The Askara table alternated between complaining about the heat and demanding the harpists bare their midriffs, which truth be told was about the best anyone hoped for. Madame Lynint by contrast seemed content to sip her drink in steely silence. The principal players stood at the top of the stairs leading to Blacksugar’s front doors: Dmitri Morealis stood regally appraising a crystal glass of red wine in his wine whilst Mica Radacke and son tried to varying degrees to appear as civilized and comfortable. Radacke Elder had the cool composure down but looked like a gorilla stuffed into a three-piece suit to his extreme chagrin, though to his credit one would need to get close to notice the deep furrow in his brow, grinding teeth and the way he kept scratching at his collar. The young blonde groom by contrast looked perfectly natural in his clothes but appeared about ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit if his father’s huge reassuring hand wasn’t clamped like a vice on his shoulder. The music came to a graceful stop and Dmitri opened his mouth to speak, but right as he got the first word out the door behind him burst open and a house slave with hair matted and white linen shirt stained from sweat tumbled out with a letter clutched in his hand. “The bride!” he gasped. “Somebody’s stolen the bride!” Dmitri’s expression remained unchanged but the wine glass instantly shattered with a sharp pop in his clenched fist. A few drops of blood began to trickle between his fingers as he jutted his other arm out mechanically towards the slave. The crumpled letter deposited in his waiting hand he whipped it in front of his face, eyes quickly scanning its contents as everyone around him stared on in shock before he neatly folded it with the one hand, tucked it into his shirt pocket and opened his fist. “It seems,” he said softly as he picked bloody shards of glass from his palm and fingers and let them drop, “that a band of Rujaro have made off with my daughter. How precisely they got here is a mystery that will be solved later. Right now, however, I want every single man, woman and child present to listen up! The esteemed Dmitri Morealis is offering an evening in his home and five hundred gold mizas to anyone who can deliver my daughter to me, plus another fifty for every Rujaro head they bring with them! All was silent and still for a tick, then broke into a wave of frenzied activity radiating from the Morealis head. The Dynasts for the most part looked for somewhere peaceful where they might not get trampled, but once the slaves delivered news of a reward to the freeborns gathered on the fringes pandemonium ensued as those with the stomach for adventure and a weapon on hand (or an improvised one within reach) banded into makeshift parties and fanned out into the swamp. Whether Dmitri Morealis would get his daughter back remained unclear, but one thing was without doubt: blood would spill and heads would roll before the sun went down. OOCAll right! For those ladies and gentlemen new to this thing, here's how it goes! Those who want to go Rujaro hunting, post in the thread situating your PC in the party however you see fit. Once three people have posted I'll drop a post myself and let the hunt begin! After I've posted once we all got two days to post or we get skipped. Gotta keep the train moving! Good luck and have fun!

[Kiera]

⚜ Kiera ⚜ All matter of gossip seemed to travel fast in Kenash of Kiera’s ears were anything to go by. Even in the recesses of the residence she worked at, she was already hearing the new. A missing dynasty brat? A princess to be wed at that? It made her want to laugh. It sounded like something straight out of a sappy drama book and plays her mother used to like to forcibly take her to watch. She scoffed at the thought. Did that mean there was a plot twist somewhere in the rumor? The girl would not doubt it seeing as Kenash had its own little quirks. It would be amusing, she thought to herself, if the girl was actually whisked away by a lover instead. All this work for a misunderstanding. Blonde hair scattered as the girl shook her head to clear her thoughts as she wiped down the bar. With all the excitement around the hunt for the missing bride, the bar was looking a little bit empty. Too empty for her tastes. She was not going to earn any tip at this rate. Cleaning yet another glass, the girl eavesdropped on the couple sitting just a few feet away, both of which seemed to be getting ready to join in the hunt. “…heard there’s rewards.” “500 Mizas!” “More for heads…or sumthn.” Kiera perked at that. There was money to be earned and that in itself was fitting enough for her to want to give her hand at this. She was not much into the killing as she was the rescue. Her hand stilled. Would she even be okay if a fight arose? The answer to that was a swift no. She had no fighting skills so to speak and going in like this was definitely dangerous. The girl worried her bottom lips as she watched yet another fellow maid walks by with this time, what looked like a mop. Maybe, she told herself, it would not matter. There were many people going with make-shift weapons. If they deemed it okay, maybe, just maybe she would be too. "I can always run back if things get bad..." She muttered to herself. It sounded like a solid enough plan. With her Mizas dwindling, she could not afford too disregard any opportunity lest another never came. Placing the last glass back onto the rack to dry, the blonde slunk towards the kitchen to pilfer one of the heavy iron pans from where it hung. A quick trip back towards her room allowed her an equally speedy change of clothes and removal of her wig. Back in the comfort of her own skin, Kiera pulled her cape tighter about her body before she slid out of her home and towards the streets. This outfit, was much less refined than the one she wore at work, but it was the one that afforded her the most movement. It was messy enough for her to not care if more damage to it was sustained. The girl ambled along quietly, not really speaking to anything. It was not hard for her to follow the throng of people heading towards the hunt. A few minutes later, the now dark-haired girl found herself situated at the edge of a random party. Amber eyes scoured the over everyone as they clutched the pan tighter.

[Konrad Venger]

Seen and not heard, boy. Seen and not heard...

Konrad was fast becoming familiar with the unspoken rules of being a guard. Which was not to say he hadn't performed the function before - much of his work back in Sunberth was often as deterrent, rather than provocateur - but while growls and curses and the odd boot in the arse was par the course in that city, this one required more in the way of... ornamentation.

Keep your trap shut and all your other sense damn well open.

Thus had been the words of Ivan Radacke himself earlier than day, and Konrad was obeying them to the letter. Three Eyes and himself were positioned near the Radacke's table, the Dynasts drinking and feasting and scowling away the ceremony. Mica's son and one of the Morealis women, joining their Dynasties together in peace and prosperity!

Konrad snorted softly to himself, flexing his shoulders under his duster and making sure his limbs were limber enough should trouble rear its head. No-one put men like them front-and-center for the world to see if "peace and prosperity" were the sole order of the day.

"When they doin' it, anyway?"

Konrad shrugged and let his gaze wander over the sprawling revelry laid out before the main house at the Moriali Plantation. There was food enough for an army and that seemed to have been what came out, a horde of Dynast and Freeborn gathering to wish the couple well and stuff their faces free of charge (more the latter, if everyone was honest). While the sizzling succulence of those pigs was not lost on Konrad, he kept his mind on the particulars of his duty.

"Y'think they told me?" He spoke without looking around, raking his cold gaze over anyone that came within a dozen paces of the Radacke table. Dynast, free or slave, it didn't matter. "We jus' keep doin' what we're doin' until they're done."

The crash of the door bursting open was enough to have Konrad's kopis halfway out its sheath before he was even aware of the movement, the rest of him taking one quick step to place himself between the noise and the Radackes. But it was not some assassin; rather a wild-eyed and glistening slave who came bearing-

The glass exploded in Dmitri's hand. Ah. That kind of news.

"What in the petch-"

Konrad didn't bother to tell his partner to just shut up and listen; instead he led by example and blocked the pudgy ganger out, drinking in every word that the Morealis Head spoke. A Dynast kidnapped? From Blacksygar? Gods, was there no security with these people?! It was only a couple of season before that Konrad had helped thwart an assassination attempt on a minor Radacke Dynast at the Blackwater Hotel. And now this...

Rujaro. Didn't even need to say it. Who else would be bold or foolish enough?

Then Konrad heard the numbers, the hefty coin they commanded, and both Sunberth men shared a familiar look. Unsmiling, mayhap, but their eyes glittering as if they already held those mizas in their hands. Without a word they glided their hands over their weapons, checking every instrument was ready for its purpose, and Konrad kept his eyes on the Radacke table, waiting...

The plaza became a scene of directed chaos as all present either made for their homes or made ready for pursuit. Sharpened steel glittered and flashed among the crowd like fish under turbulent water; other less likely weapons were present, too. Men and even women scuttled here and there but Konrad was the still and patient eye.

One nod from the Radackes would be all it would take. With that silent, definite command, Konrad and his partner would surge towards the swamp with the rest, staying close to whatever party the Radacke cobbled together at such short notice. He was their man, he took their coin and, hunting or not, his duty was still to protect them that night.

[Gile Askara]

Gile Askara

Gile maintained that the Askara and the Sitai were the heart of every any party the decided to go to, even parties that they weren't hosting, and while he was trying to behave as gentlemanly as he could for the evening, when his brethren began cajoling the harpists he couldn't help but grin and join in, after all, what fun was their in being fully clothed in this sort of dreadful heat? Though it seemed the musicians at this party were of the prudish variety and simply weren't willing to be any fun, though that simply was the nature of such things, you can't win them all.

Enjoying a glass of wine slowly Gile observed the party goers looking for any familiar faces among the crowds disappointed that he hadn't seen any acquaintances participating in the festivities. The party was going well, the food was plentiful and the slaves for the most part attractive, no Gile was content to enjoy the free meal and wait out the evening to see what sort of fun would develop as the evening proceded, he was eager for the after party when things really would get wild. Though as such thoughts were racing through his mind the sound of a slamming door and quieting music roused him from his revelry, It appeared that someone had stolen the bride? Unsure of what exactly was going on Gile frowned deeply as the host of the party spoke, the old man spoke with disturbing clarity, that made it clear that this was decidedly not some odd joke, and that the Rujaro had indeed struck. Gile personally had no doubts that the woman in question was already most likely dead, any dynast that encountered the Rujaro was most likely already dead.

Words of a reward for bringing back the man's daughter however did perk Gile's attention, Money was not something he was desperate for, but an evening of rubbing shoulders and the fathers gratitude assuming the girl lived, well that was something Gile was interested in. The more favors and contacts Gile could have himself owed, the better, so deciding to represent the Askara for the evening Gile ambled over to where search parties were gathering hoping to find somebody with a meaner sword arm than his own, he didn't plan to act as the brawn when he could be the brains of those around him, after all such a position was becoming of someone in his station, that said his rapier was at his hip and ready, he didn't like the thought of having to use it but he had it if need be.

Beyond that Gile wondered just what the hell was going on, realistically for the Rujaro, if it really was the Rujaro to have done anything, then it made sense to suspect that they had allies somewhere. It seemed unthinkable that the Dynasty security could be so lax as to simply allow someone to waltz off with the bride to be without help, so the question was, where was the real enemy?

[Balderdash]

Mica Radacke took the news in stride to his credit. Doubtless his Sunberthian forebears taught him how to react to a hostage crisis along with how to flay a man with a bull whip. He simply gave a nod and a jerk of his head in the guards' direction to his son and fell in step with his fellow patriarch as the two retreated to the home. "What's in the letter, Dmiri?" the Radacke grunted before the doors closed behind them. "A ransom." Waite Radacke left alone at the top of the stairs grimaced and descended to join the huddle on the ground. He frowned a good three seconds at Konrad before haltingly saying "Kibble-no, Kimmel, right? You're one of the family cleaners. You and the other gentlemen." he added with a nod to the two men flanking Konrad. "Father wants us to find my fiance, and honestly I'd like her back too." Waite said with a nervous chuckle. "Though we might need more than just you three." The young Dynast's eyes scanned over Konrad's head for a couple ticks before they landed on a lost-looking Askara searching for a nice group to join. "Ah! You there!" Waite called to Gile with a sharp snap of his fingers. "You look like an educated fellow with some bite. Care to join us?" Assuming Gile agreed the young Radacke took a deep breath and cast his gaze to the house. "They had to have taken her from her room, so that's as good a place to start looking as any. Kony, you mind whipping up some torches?" "It's strange," Waite said as they walked the perimeter of Blacksugar estate, "Rujaro don't normally take hostages. They're more the slash and burn type, from what my father tells of them. Slash throats, destroy merchandise, set buildings alike, you know the drill." As they rounded the corner of the mansion, Waite frowned at the sight and muttered "Very strange indeed..." The window of a ground-floor room (doubtless the bride's) was hanging ajar, apparently opened without force. Two guards lay unconscious in the wet mud, lines of drool caked on their faces and froth on their lips but otherwise unharmed, and a path of trampled grass could be seen to and from the window all the way to the swamp. Inside the room was a mess- a man-sized mirror shattered, chairs upturned, a few splatters of blood on the opulent carpet- but outside there seemed to have hardly been a struggle. Waite sucked in his lower lip before nodding and saying "My father will get to the bottom of what happened here. We'll follow the trail these clowns' trail as far as we can." It was somewhat impressive how quickly men motivated by money could organized. Kiera quickly found herself in the middle of a pack of yipping, torch-toting be-overalled men built like trees that stank of soot and radiated heat like stoves as their bodies bounced her like a pinball between them all the way to the swamp. The air grew sweltering and sticky like hot jam and the sun vanished behind massive mangroves here and the mud vanished behind a knee-high layer of black water that stank of shyke and rotting wood. The torches each made a tiny orange sphere of light around their bearers, and distant parties seemed tiny yipping yellow dots in the twisting darkness of trees and ropelike vines. Crickets and frogs were both the Radackes' and Kieras' parties deafening orchestra as they waded through the root-filled mire, more than one man tripping over a particularly gnarly root. Every now and again, Kiera and the others felt something swim past their leg. Their other companions were a veritable buzzing swarm of bloodsucking insects. Gnats and mosquitos darting in undulating clouds sometimes as thick as tar around the smoke of their torches, seemingly attacking their necks and wrists and faces in unceasing waves in their hunt for blood. Kiera's party forged onward in a neck-slapping, cursing, splashing mob but the Radacke's pace was much more measured. Despite the appearance that their only companions were the unending cloud of insects, they all came in search of human prey. "Keep your eyes peeled. You never know when or where the first attack might come." Waite muttered under his breath. Naturally, mere ticks after he said this the sound of splashing and shouting became audible from the Radacke party's flank that slowly grew in volume along with a brightening red glow between the brush and trees until out burst Kiera's party, the young woman tumbling to the forefront as the men around her froze in place. OOCSorry for the slight delay; life happened hard. Hope the post was worth the wait!

[Kiera]

⚜ Kiera ⚜ If Kiera was being honest, the hunt was not going too bad. Yes, it was crowded and people stank like hell and back but it was not something she was unused to by now. Maybe years ago, when she was still decked in clothes that were much cleaner and refined than the one she wore now, the girl might have cringed. As is, she was used to scrubbing the bathrooms and clearing the clogged squat toilets. The splattering of fecal matter rarely bothered her now. The more liquid equivalent of it did sometimes, though. Those were just a lot harder to clean. Hiking up her skirt, Kiera continued to ambled on and hoped that she would not be completely flattened by the jostling crowd. The currently dark haired girl did not mind throwing an elbow here or there to keep some people away. She huffed. Those pesky ones deserved it anyways. She knew she was short but there was a limit to how people can have abused that. Deep down inside the teen, Kiera still had hope that she would one day hit another growth spurt. The jostling from the city eventually gave way to slogging through the murky waters of the swamps. It was here that the mild signs of discomfort crossed the girl’s face. Boots and muddy water did not mix well. It seeped between the cracks of the cracked item, it flooded the holes where the laces wrapped, it made her feet feel very, very, heavy. The temptation to remove them was high but only the squeals and squirms of the less manly men kept the Kiera from removing the annoying article. As much as she preferred the slight ease that being barefoot afforded, braving the unknown creatures in the water seemed a bit too adventurous. With evening settling in, it was hard to see what was actually in the pools they waded through. The girl snickered at yet another very not masculine like noise. It was not like she was not terrified too but animals…well, she liked them a lot more than humans, even the scary ones. At least those critters were apparent with their feelings. A second after that, though, she slapped her own face to deflect the mosquito that was about to take a bite. “I take that back…” She muttered to herself. Mosquitos could go die in a hole. Lost in her thought she did not notice as she was bumped from behind roughly to the forefront. Water splashed and auburn eyes widened as the flickering flames illuminated another group. The dark-haired girl gripped her pan tighter. Well,…this was not what she was expecting. Swallowing in an attempt to wet the mouth that had suddenly run very, very dry, the mixed-blood could only stare before she parted her mouth to speak as genially as she could. She squinted, trying to figure out who everyone was before anything else. “Ah…uh…Hi there?” The pan-hand waved and she chuckled nervously. Whoever gave her that finaly shove was going to be spanked with the skillet.

[Konrad Venger]

"Dun' like the smell a' this, Eyes."

"Petchin' right; you imagine livin' here?"

"Not what I meant-" There was a squealch as Konrad stepped into something that was both not dirt and, apparently, somewhat alive. "... mostly not, anyway."

Konrad had felt the stink clogging his nose ever since they'd left the Morealis plantation, and for different reasons each time. It had been the work of a few chimes to grab a dozen faggots for the party heading out: grabbing a nearby slave and growling until they'd shown the way with a shaking finger had been most of it. Konrad couldn't keep his glare from the back of the slave's head the whole time.

Did you help? Did you see? Would you have said shyke if you did? Probably petching not. Your people, aren't they?

The Rujaro, or just "the Rooj" as he called them in conversation, as if he did not care to give them their full title. Rujaro had a roll and timbre to it, something poetic and mysterious; Rooj was a whore going to seed. Konrad knew which one he was taking, and thought Three Eyes had a rare moment of perception when he immediately blamed them.

He still thought he was right... or mostly... did he?

"Bloody queer, that."

Those were his mumbled words as he looked at the scene of the Morealis girl's vanishing. The room was bedlam, no doubt about it, the proper scene of foul play. Glass shards winked up from the rich carpets. Fittings and furniture splintered and tossed around like the toys of an errant child and yes, even the spatter of blood, thick and darkening outside the vein.

All except the window. And the guards. Both of which made Konrad frown as the party took their little tour around the main house.

"Eh?"

"All that shyke inside," Konrad replied to Eyes, chin jutting at the pristine window and the room beyond. "An' outside... nothin'. An' y'see there's no broken glass, no holes? Means it was opened from the inside."

"Maybe the girl left it open."

"Aye," Konrad said, in the classic tones of the ill-convinced. "But all this hostage bollocks, too..."

"Hmm," Three Eyes rubbed a chin that no razor had been able to properly bring to order. "Thas' true 'nuff."

Konrad had yet to spend a full year in Kenash, but thought he knew the character of the Rujaro. They didn't care for money. They sought devastation, destruction, chaos and the revolution they wished to rise from the anarchy. The younger Radacke was right when he described them before, and that made Konrad's frown only deepen.

And now they want a ransom? How would we deliver it? What way would they trust? None at all. So why bother? Why not just kill the girl and make their damn point?

Too many questions and Konrad shook his head fiercely for a tick, like he was trying to nip his own earlobes. Too many and he wasn't a man learn'ed enough to untangle them all.

Any more musing would wait, though. Waite spoke again, this time of his father, and a few chimes later they were following the muddy trail into the swamp, into the dark, and that's when Konrad's instincts really started to bung up with sheer, sodding effluence.

"This ain't how y'hunt Rooj," he hiss lowly as him and Eyes picked their way through submerged roots and ancient filth and trees tight as fences. "Prancin' aroun' in their 'omes... torches blazin' an' tellin' all we're here... these bassards only survive cuz they're good at hidin'. This is their swamp."

Another rank of shadows with bark and vines was surpassed, revealing nothing but another one right behind it. Little rivers thick with silt, mud and floating limbs flowed all around the patches of vegetation; the trees warred and clashed with each other to claim as much sky as they could, blocking out Leth and stars.

Glancing around, Konrad could only make out his companions by the torch he held. Without them, they'd be naught but vague outlines against yet more outlines... and yet he knew that was the way to hunt the Rujaro.

Or at least do it by day-

He'd barely finished the thougth before scuffling and curses and cracking wood alerted him to activity at their flanks. He drew his kopis as he turned, hearing a handful of pole weapons thunk! against trees and branches. Konrad cursed in a whisper, some Sunberth atrocity that involved maidens and hot blades. Gods, who in the hells bought an eight-foot spear to fight in a swamp?

Light. Torches. Noise. Not Rooj.

Then the trembling mangrove vomited up a pool of Kenashians, most Freeborn by the look of it. Clutching everything from kitchenware to field tools to sharp sticks, they were clearly not a Dynasty-gathered group. Fortune hunters, he'd say, and Konrad's scarred face hardened at the idea of some bastard trying to snake away his reward.

“Ah…uh…Hi there?”

Something small, blond and holding a frying pan as big as she was skittered forward through the muck, and Konrad's eyes suddenly didn't match his merciless expression. His jaw followed, dropping slightly as the girl looked up-

-and saw a familiar face made of scars and crooked teeth smirking down at her.

"Petch me. Youse again, eh?"

[Gile Askara]

Gile Askara

Gile frowned, as was an expression he seemed to be making more and more these days. The situation was curios to say the least, subtlety was not exactly an artform that the rujaro were known for to Gile's knowledge so the evidence he observed gave him conflicting messages. the two guards were unconscious with nary a scratch on them, that said the inside of the to be bride's room spoke a different story, if such a scene had played out should someone not have heard it? That said Gile didn't feel quite like vocalising his opinions, he had no evidence that this was a job done by someone smarter than a rag tag group of escaped slaves and swamp dwellers. But at the same time dynasts settled conflicts in less violent manners than this... usually. Either way it was mysterious and Gile did not care for it. Taking a torch from the man called Kony Gile followed the fellow dynast closely nodding in agreement with the man's observations.

"Frankly, my primary concern at this moment is the fact that while these to conked guards are something that, might have happened quietly, whatever happened in the room, was not so quiet, I'd have any slaves here questioned."

Holding his torch Gile followed with the group taking a place next to Waite, he wanted to keep an eye on the Dynast, for one thing allying himself with him was politically beneficial, but secondly he wasn't sure what part the groom played in all of this, if Gile were in that man shoes he'd be a couple more notches in the direction of panicking, though that was just his own opinion.

Moving with the group Gile frowned when their procession came to a halt and another group of... layfolk approached like a herd of dirty hopeful animals, all jostling for a chance at getting in good with the Dynasts. Some small slip of a girl wriggled out from the group, Gile felt he knew her face but didn't quite think he'd known any blonde maidens, not recently anyway. Shrugging off the oddity Gile returned to surveying the Swamp not too interested in the doings of the others.

"Waite, you have any idea of anyone who'd wish you fiancee harm, the Rujaro are a nasty bunch but they ain't usually so bold, course then again, this situation is all sorts of unprecedented."

That said Gile didn't want to pressure the man or offend him by insinuating that his fiancee had done something to earn enemies. so he would leave it at a curiosity instead of making any accusations. Gile wondered if they were walking into a situation that was bigger than any of them were prepared for. Violence was not Gile's forte, in fact Gile was not too terribly sure of if he had a forte, but either way he would not do well to trust anyone but himself and let his paranoia guide him to the answers he sought.