Without a Penny [Danyella]

[Severn]

30th Spring, 511

A small caravan enterred the city, bringing goods that had been bought in Yahebah. The merchant running it was clearly on a shortage of mizas, as only a lone benshira mercenary walked with him, guarding the goods. And a greenhorn too. They would have been easy prey for any bandits who might have come across them. And the merchant seemed to be arguing with the mercenary about payment.

"Look. I don't have the money. In case you haven't noticed, our expedition in Endrykas was a disaster. We didn't sell anything. And I spent the rest of the money feeding us on the trip here. If I don't sell anything here in Zeltiva, I'll be out of business." The merchant said in a rather poor Shiber.

"Benachag!" The young mercenary insulted the merchant. "I spent sleepless nights in the cold, guarding the caravan, because you greedy little man didn't hire more mercenaries. I'm half way across the world with scarcely a penny in my pocket and now you want me to walk away unpaid?" The mercenary was furious, his hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar now.

"What am I supposed to pay you with?" The now angry merchant yelled. "I have no money left! And be thankful you found this job, at least. I did you a favor, no one else would have hired a young, inexperienced mercenary like you, just out of apprenticeship. Not when trade has been so hard lately!"

The young mercenary was close to drawing his blade now. For a moment, the look in his eyes suggested that he would just kill the merchant and take his due payment from the merchant's goods. But instead, the young man just sighed. "Quite a favor you've done me. Dragging me half way across the world and leaving me here with scarcely a penny in my pocket."

The merchant relaxed and grinned. "Well, lad, that's how life is. Get used to it, son, you'll get a lot of this." the merchant spoke as he drove his two horses onward. He looked behind once, laughing. "Good luck finding work in Zeltiva, lad." The mercenary sighed and stared at the laughing merchant, shaking his head in disappointment.

[Tshaka re Hafra]

Tshaka, sitting on some stacked crates, saw the foreigner enter the city and begin arguing with the merchant. A mischievious smile broke across her face. She waited for the merchant disappeared, and she stood with the sun at her back. Her waist long hair layered with platinum blonde blew to the side in the wind. She crossed her middle arms as her golden tan skin glowed. She wore a revealing emerald colored bikini top and bottom with a blood red sarong which, blowing in the wind, revealed quite a bit of leg. Her lower arms were resting on her ample hips while her upper arms were waving her scimitars in the sunlight over her head.

"You should have gutted him. You weren't the first nor the last mercenary that he will get free labor out of. He's notorious for it." She smirked and jumped down. "Welcome to Zeltiva, you better wise up fast." She circled him, eyeing him like a lioness circling a dying meal. She dropped her scimitars gracefully to her middle arms, her lower set remaining on her hips, while the top set moved with her speech. "I hope your skills are better than your wisdom of the world."

She smiled revealing her dazzling teeth, crossing her arms to make her bust that much more noticible, though it didn't need the assistance. "Plenty of work here, if you don't mind boats. If you get sea sick, you won't last. You seem to need a friend," she looked down, then glanced back up at him with beautiful, piercing eyes, "I could be your friend."

[Severn]

The mercenary eyed her with a similar, predatory gaze, his piercing, ice-cold blue eyes scanning her as if boring right into her soul. The young man seemed to relax a bit and lowered the face covering of his tourban, revealling sharp, dust blown features and an ugly scar running along the right side of his face.

"Gutting merchant bad for business. I not do that." he said in a heavily accented common. "Better to let go. And I know not laws of Zeltiva. Murder could be punished." he spoke to the woman. "You Eypharian. Why so far from desert?" he asked her, curiosity in his tone, but his stance was still tensed, as if he feared an attack.

The man was young and obviously inexperienced. Up until recently his universe was probably confined to his father's tents. Yet there was something cold and fierce about him, especially noticeable in his eyes, which glittered like a wolf's who is always ready to pounce.

"Name is Severn, from tents of Akil, of sons of Malech." he finally introduced himself, still a hint of hesitation in his voice. "And now I need drink."

[Tshaka re Hafra]

She smiled venomously, her golden eyes shining playfully. "I prefer my sand salty and wet. Why so far from the tent?" She hooked her scimitars to her chain belt, as she looked down the main road that lead straight to the ocean. Ahnatep was no home to her, all politics and makeup. Here everything was earned by the breaking of one's back and the swing of one's sword.

Mischeviousness glittered her golden eyes, "I know a smaller place to get," she chuckled, "The best brew around." She began walking down the main road, her hips swinging back and forth. She turned back and her eyes shot through the man, "Well you coming? Or would you rather get with another caravan? After all the Kelp Bar is the best in town."

[Severn]

He looked at her and just sighed. "I am mercenary. I defend caravan for mizas. Last job turned out bad. Now I am stuck here." he replied to her, still struggling with speaking common. "I did not hear your name." He added to her in what was more like a question, but he didn't really get the right words.

"And now any bar sounds good. If they have drink, yes, I come with you." He finally concluded as he walked behind the girl. He checked his pockets and a look of disappointment with a hint of despair made its way on his face. He was clearly in financial difficulties.

[Tshaka re Hafra]

"You willl have to work a bit harder to learn my name, Mercenary." She smile as she led the man into the infamous Kelp Bar. She was a regular here, but every time she strutted through, she turned every head in the room. She sat down at the shabby bar, and lightly patted the stool next to her.

She ordered two kelp beers and flipped the wizened old barmaid the mizas for them. The barmaid set the dark green beers down on the bar. Tshaka sniffed at it, loving the salty, fishy smell. She said, "Cheers," and downed half the large mug in one draining. She waited to see the mercenary's reaction to the strong beer. Most foreigners can't stand the color, let alone the taste. But it had a massive amount of alcohol in it. Many foreigners puked on one sip, so she watched intently.

[Severn]

The mercenarry took a careful sip of the brew. His face didn't show any reaction but his words were more than enough. "Tastes like water from sewer." He said. But he gulped down some more of the drink, then looked at the eypharian girl, an unreadable gaze in his eyes.

"So. Why you help a mercenary like me?" He asked her, curiosity in his voice and a hint of something else as well. He still held his guard up and regarded the eypharian girl with a certain unease.

[Tshaka re Hafra]

She drained the rest of her beer, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I like shiny new things. Jewelry, weapons, foreigners, besides, if I hadn't you would be dead within a week. We need boathands in this town, and you look like you have a strong back."

She watched the barmaid walk into the back, and snuck a glassful of kelp beer. "Or you can go to the university, get some learning. Either way, you need to do something, and do it fast," she drained the whole mug in one fair chug, "Or get out of town, we don't need any more freeloaders. Like you Trian!" she shouted at a human in the corner. Whispering, "Your choice, bar fight or run. Consider it a test," she smiled mischeviously. She watched the man she insulted angrily stomp over, and she resisted the urge to draw her scimitars. "No killing no matter what you choose." The man had some friends get up from their seats, four men altogether, and they all picked up wooden chairs or stools. "Now or never mercenary."

[Severn]

The mercenary drew his scimitar and held it in a reversed grip. It was obvious from the way he held the weapon that he had years of training. But it was just as obvious he had no real combat experience. He got up from the chair and lifted his hand to his mouth to lift his face covering. With his ragged clothing and appearance, not to mention his constitution, he looked fairly fearsome. But then again, the same could be said about most people in this tavern.

He took a few steps towards the angry men, a calm look in his eyes, despite his tense posture. "I suggest you lower chairs, friends. We here to drink, not fight. We not paid to fight and smash the bar. My friend here hotheaded. Had drink. Please forgive her." he said in a rather civilized tone, before one of the men threw a bottle at him, laughing at his grammar mistakes.

The mercenary half-dodged the bottle, which ended up hitting his ear instead of his face, then bounced off and smashed on the floor. "I was civllized. But I see you no talking to. Very well. We fight." he said and he attacked them. He swung his scimitar in a wide arc, but failed to disarm the first man and he was hit in the back by a second chair swinging drunkard. What followed was a hard kick in the groin which doubled over one of the drunkards, as the young mercenary landed one well aimed kick.

The fourth drunkard struck Severn in the head with a bottle, momentarily disorienting him, enough for the first man to hit him with the chair, braking it against his ribs. But the mercenary struck him with the hilt of his scimitar right in the face, breaking his nose. Chaos was already breaking out and bottles were flying by now.

Amongst all the noise, a certain mercenary could be heard laughing fiercely as he chopped up a chair some other guy in the bar was trying to use as weapon, but his laughter was cut short as another drunkard struck him in the back with a table leg.

[Tshaka re Hafra]

Tshaka raised an eyebrow at his response, Starting civil and professional, then ending with multiple chairs being broken on his back. She got another beer, watched the mercenary get manhandled. After watching enough she decided to get involved. She ordered a second beer, drained one, then the other. She walked over to the brawl, and slammed one mug into the man's forehead, knocking him out as the glass exploded. With the second she uppercut one of the men filling his face with shards of glass. The other two guys were beating on the mercenary. She through the mug handle at one doing nothing more than getting his attention. He swung at her with a chair, which she attempt to catch with her left hands. She misjudged it and it skipped through her arms and blew up on her ribs. It knocked the breath out of her. She wheezed and threw three wild right punches. Two missed, but one connected, and connected hard into the man's jaw. Pain shot up her arm, she knew she should have worked on her punching more. She left the last guy to the mercenary, she straddled the guy she just hit and began just wailing wildly on him with all of her arms, until all six hurt and were coated in blood. "You good?" she said to the mercenary.