Meet Squirt (solo)

[Naama]

Timestamp: 5th Spring, 511AV
Location: Zintia Peak

The Surya Plaza. A grand spectacle of the city of Stars, where young and old, rich and poor bustle along with their lives and personal affairs with very little regard to foreigners who happen to pour in. It was dusk, and Naama soon found within a few stays in the city that these peoples were… rather unique individuals who prized the night over the comfort and warmth of day. Baffled as she was, the time difference hadn’t bothered her. And suffice to say, she enjoyed the displays of light that emanated from the glowing buildings and bathed the streets and people in dazzling colors.

With each step a new pair of eyes settled on every aspect of her appearance. It was natural. The “Exotic Wonder”, some had called her, “the girl with the black eyes”, or her favorite, “Miss Tats”. She didn’t mind. Often she laughed with them over a pint of ale. Men were easier to loosen up when there was liquor in their bellies and plenty of food to share. But for this night, Naama had gone out of her way to the market to do herself, and perhaps even Hawkins, some shopping…. Or more accurately, filching. Because Zulrav knows that lout needed a new pair of pants, as worn as the older pair were.

The stalls that lined the Plaza were packed with knickknacks and baubles and trinkets. Others sold books of all kinds, and many more displayed a fabulous array of garments. Naama was drawn to the jewelry, holding a soft spot for accessories, and had to stay her hand from pocketing several ornaments on display.

It was many chimes later, when the halfbreed was busy inspecting a rather exotic looking pair of breeches, a small boy slammed himself into her, knocking the pants from her hands and recoiling onto the ground.

“What in Zulrav’s name--” Naama barked, blinking at the boy who now lay sprawled on the floor, “What the petch was that for kid?” But the boy didn’t reply, snapping back up to his feet and darting off into the streets. These Lhavitian children… So devious. It was only several seconds later that Naama noticed the coins she held in her hand were now gone. “Hey!” She shouted, sending heads turning. “COME BACK HERE!”

The chase was on.

Through the winding cobblestone streets Naama ran. Honing in on the filthy, sweat stained shirt the boy wore, plastered to his back. She sprinted past a pair of wealthy ladies, whose gowns swirled with the wind kicked up by her legs. Every which way of the Zintia Peak, they crossed, until they ended up in the maze of apartments that was the Shimobe district of the city. The halfbreed chased the thief with all the strength her Myrian heritage could muster, but the boy had been agile with his retreat. It was only when he found himself in the presence of an alley that Naama managed to trap him.

Her heart pounded in her ears, and her breathing, labored as it was, did nothing for the intimidating aspect her eyes sometimes had on people. She looked as petching pissed off as she was.

“You’re lucky you’re only a child or your corpse would have been tossed to the fishes by now.”
The boy gulped, eyes darting back and forth. Naama raised her hand.

“My coins, if you please.”
“Tamnida puatale!” The boy barked, holding the coin purse to his chest. Naama rolled her eyes, “I can’t understand a lick of your language, kiddo. Give me my coins and I promise I won’t tell your mummy.”

The boy shook his head, and in retaliation, the halfbreed grabbed him by his shirt collar and slammed him against the skyglass wall behind him, “It’s not wise to cross someone like me, lad.” There was fear in his eyes. The same fear that was reminiscent to the events that led to her self-exile. It was the first time she really looked at him. A scrawny boy, with thin arms and legs, a mop of hair that must have been home to dozens of rats by the way it looked, and a round face caked in dirt. He was only a child……

[Naama]

Naama sighed, lowering the stubborn kid to the ground and released him. “Tell you what, you can keep ten silver mizas and I’ll buy you a treat. How’s that sound?”

“Can I get a kiss too?”
“You little scoundrel. You speak Common?”
“I thought if you didn’t understand you’d go away.”
“You’re not very bright are you. Your ten has gone down to five.”

There was a look of pure horror in the boy's eyes. “What for!”
“For being a pre-pubescent player. Let your plums drop and we’ll see about a kiss.”

The boy grumbled and handed the coin purse back to Naama. She took five sovereigns and handed them to him, “What’s your name, lad?”
“Jeongnam.”
“Well, that’s too complicated, I’ll call you Squirt.”

The boy shrugged then immediately bounced behind Naama.
“JEONG!” Came a growl from the far side of the alley. Three men emerged from the exit, blocking their only escape route. Two of the men who flanked the sides of the centre lead figure were plump in appearance, with dirt-caked skin and ragged clothes. The center man had a shaved head, with several scars on his scalp where no doubt the razor cut into his skin.

“Well if it isn’t Jeong,” The man said in Lhavitian, cackling, “You got our money kid?”
Naama glanced at Squirt, who anxiously hid behind the halfbreed and clung to her leather belt like a lifeline.
“Friends of yours?”
“No! They preach chastity and stuff.”

“We heard that you little shit-licker.” The Bald One called. Naama raised her hands.
“There’s no need to get aggressive, gentlemen. What exactly do you want with this poor boy? If it involves fondling I’m afraid I will have to break your necks.”

The men laughed collectively.
“He owes us money,” The man said in Common, gesturing to the kid with a jerk of his chin. He spat on the floor, drawing his sword from his scabbard, “An’ we’re here to reclaim it. We ain’t afraid of hurtin’ no girl neither, so you best step out of our way.”
“I’m afraid I won‘t. See, I gave him money, so that means my hard-earned cash would be ending up in your filthy hands. And I just can’t sit with that.” She brandished her own hooked swords, eyeing the three with a predatory glare, “Let’s see how much you scallywags can take before you break.”

The Bald One motioned for his two lackeys to charge. They flashed a dirty grin, raising their swords during their initial rush. Naama shoved Squirt aside and brought her swords up to trap one thug’s weapon between her hooks. With a vicious kick she caught him in the groin, sending him doubling over before the halfbreed managed to leap away from an incoming blade. It sliced open her shoulder, expelling a cry from her lips.

“If that leaves a scar, I’m going to find a way to bring your ass back just to kill you again,” Naama growled.

[Naama]

The second thug laughed maniacally, sweeping his blade down on the halfbreed, forcing her to duck and step back, until she found herself pressed against the skyglass wall. But when her opponent raised his weapon in the air to send it down on her head, she hooked her sword around his neck and jerked forward, sending his head smashing against the wall. The lackey subsequently collapsed, and Naama wasted no time crushing his throat under her boot. There was a sickening crunch, and soon a moderate amount of blood began to seep from his mouth.

From his corner, Squirt mouthed an ‘awesome’ before the Bald One directed his attention toward him. He darted behind Naama who sent the first thug reeling with a furious uppercut. Almost as quickly, it came to a standstill, with the halfbreed’s sword pointed under the Bald One’s chin and a devious smirk on her lips, “Tell me, is this worth dying for?”

BO’s eyes flickered from Naama to the dead corpse and back to the lackey who now held a profusely bleeding nose. When his gaze landed back on Squirt, his face contorted in disgust, and he spat on the ground. “You’re off the hook, for now.” He growled, “An’ you, you’re on our shitlist, bitch. Toto, we’re done here.”

The Bald One and his lackey fled the alley while Naama turned to address Squirt, who had the widest grin plastered on his face complete with gaps and all. She quirked a brow, “Start talkin’, Squirt.”
The boy looked at her incredulously, “What’s there to say? They want my money!”

“Oh yes, your money! Such a wealthy little boy with sticky fingers! Shut up and help me dump this body over the side. I paid you, now you’re going to work for it.” Squirt sighed dramatically and lifted one end of the corpse with trembling skinny legs. Once it was suitably disposed of (read: tossed over the wall) they left the alley and returned to the bustling streets of the less destitute. The halfbreed expected to be rid of the child after that unnecessary confrontation, but she noticed the all too erratic footsteps of the boy right behind hers. With an abrupt pause, Squirt collided into Naama.

“Aiya! What was that for?”
“Is there a reason you‘re following me?”
“Well, yer the only one who actually stuck up for me… And you have a nice butt.”
“What a witty tongue you have! I'd suggest you put it to good use somewhere else. Go run off to your parents.”
“I don’t have any.”

There was a pause as Naama glanced at Squirt’s surprisingly gloomy countenance. She sighed and ruffled his dirty black hair. “I did promise you a treat. It’d be a bad image not to hold to my word, let’s go.” Both of them arrived at the plaza several chimes later, and the halfbreed allowed him the privilege to pick out the most disgustingly sweet morsels from the dessert stalls. After half a bell passed Naama led Squirt to one of the bars she had found several days earlier.

[Naama]

The two were seated at a round table in the corner, where the shadows of the lanterns hanging above them concealed the majority of the minor who sat at the table. But it wasn’t as if it was much of an issue for such an establishment, they just didn’t want children taking up all the good liquor and leaving none for the true patrons who paid good money for it. Sometimes.

Squirt sat comfortably in his chair, munching away on a honey cake smothered with sugar. There were crumbs on his cheeks that he lapped up with his tongue while Naama ordered herself a pint of ale. He blinked at the sight of the large mug, his cheeks puffed up, “Whassat?”

Naama glanced at Squirt with a smirk, “This, my dear Squirt, is a pint.”
“Can I have some?” He leaned in to sniff, but the hafbreed pressed her hand to his face and shoved him back, “Only if you tell me your story. Why are you working for such a loser?”
“I’m not workin for him!” Squirt said indignantly, stuffing more cake into his mouth. He swallowed then continued, “He threatens me. His name’s Wang. He uses orphans like me to get money. He makes us beg and steal, if we don’t he hurts us.”

Naama listened with rapt attention, taking occasional swigs from her pint, “And you never once thought to go to those fancy looking men in blue uniform? What are they called again, the Shitna, the Shinyay, Shi--”
“Shinya. And they don’t do anything for us shimobe. They only act if they catch us stealing or something…”
“That’s quite a pickle you’re in there,” The Myrian crossed her legs, “Unfortunately, I’m going to assume all you say is bullshit until proven otherwise!”

Squirt wasn’t listening. “Can I have some now?”
Naama smiled and slid the tall mug over to him, “Try not to spill all over, kiddo.” She watched him sip gingerly at the liquor and then subsequently gulp a generous amount down before his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Tastes like shit don’t it?” The halfbreed laughed. Squirt nodded, “You get used to it eventually. Especially when you’re stuck on a ship full of unwashed hooligans. That’s when you really need it.”
“Are you a sailor or something?”
“Indeed I am, kiddo.”
“Do you… sail and stuff?”
“I do some of that, yes.”
“Do you have a ship?!”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

Squirt scratched his head, “So so, you’ve been to all sorts of places?”
“I’ve been around. In more ways than one.” She winked, he didn’t get it.
“I’ve never been outside of Lhavit.”
“That’s a shame. There’s more to the world than button-nosed damsels and fleeing from Wangs.”

The boy settled his arms on the table, “I heard my pa was a fisherman livin’ out on the Tranquil Port. Maybe he sailed too.”
“Is that what you want to do? Sail the seas?” Naama watched him carefully.
“Yeah!” Squirt exclaimed, the grin wide on his face, “I want to see everything! And, and try all the sweet cakes of every place ever!”

Naama laughed, “When you’re older you’ll find a productive way to quell your sweet tooth, kiddo.”

[Naama]

The boy and the woman spoke well into dawn, until Squirt began nodding off against the rickety wooden table. Once his head hit the surface he had succumbed to sleep within minutes. Naama smiled, shaking her head, “Crazy kid.” Leaving coins for her drink on the table, the halfbreed picked the boy up in her arms and carried him toward the exit. Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon beyond the Misty Peaks. There was barely anyone outside for the exception of one or two guards stationed at their posts, and stray stragglers from a night of revelry.

The Red Lantern was Naama’s preferred choice for lodging. With a little persuasion, she had managed a room for herself throughout her stay in Lhavit, and she didn’t hesitate to walk through the doors holding a slumbering adolescent. No one bothered the halfbreed as she walked to her room, and upon placing the sleeping child on the small couch in the opposite corner of the wall, she shut the door. It was only then the woman noticed the deep gash in her shoulder, inflamed and throbbing. Fortunately, it was simple to bind with a stray cloth found near a table and afterwards the Myrian was eager to collapse onto her bed and drift off to sleep.

-------

6th Spring 511AV

Dusk came quickly. Naama awoke with a groan, shielding her eyes from the stray light seeping through the curtains above her. Already the melody of lovemaking wafted through the establishment, rousing her up further. Odd, she could have sworn there was a small, dirty boy sleeping on her couch. Naama glanced under her bed sheets, no Squirt. Drawn by the tits, I see. Washing up for the night, she donned her attire and left the Lantern, heading back out onto the lustrous streets of Lhavit.

There were only several activities Naama tended to enjoy on nights left to her lonesome. Shopping (read: stealing), drinking and dueling. Preferably all three at once, even if it would have been deemed impossible. The sailor would say nay! It certainly was, but what drew her in for this evening was the promise of jewels. She needed trinkets, and she needed them badly. Swaggering as only a fine woman could, Naama made her way to the stalls, but she would soon find that her destination would be unreachable. From the shadows of the alleys beside her a hand shot forth, clamping down on her mouth. Seconds later, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the abyssal darkness.

[Naama]

These men learned quickly. Naama couldn’t tell how many there were, but she fought like a cornered tiger. She flailed and kicked and bit at her captor’s hand’s, until they managed to restrain her arms and slam something blunt against the side of her head, knocking her unconscious.

When the halfbreed next awoke, she was in a dim room lit by a single candle. She’d been startled awake, slamming her tender head into the wall and causing a sharp yelp to erupt from her lips. But Naama soon found she couldn’t move her arms. They were restrained by ropes behind her back, rubbing her wrists raw. A door was stationed opposite of her, and through it she heard the low, rumbling laughter of male voices. Petching perfect. What have I gotten myself into this time.

As if on cue, the door slid open, and the shiny head of none other than Baldy Wang came into view. There was a smug smirk on his lips as he inspected Naama from head to toe. “Good catch, boys,” He called in Lhavitian, then leaned forward and backhanded the Myrian straight across the mouth. “That’s for killing Horu.” Another backhand, “And that’s for Toto. Hope you enjoyed it, cause there’s plenty more to come.” A piercing whistle signaled two men to enter the room while Naama spat blood onto the floor, smirking.

“You remember Jiang, eh?” It was the boy, his skinny frame riddled with blooming bruises from what the woman expected was the beating he received from the hands of the same men that held her. There was something boiling deep in her blood. Enmity.

“What, you can’t handle the big league so you take out your fetish on little boys?” Naama commented. Wang kicked her fiercely in the gut. She gasped for air.
“Is that the way you’re going to play it, whore? You thought you could treat him to something special and expect loyalty? All he knows is how to beg and how to steal. He works for us. In fact, he gladly told us where you were. Isn’t that convenient of him?”

The men laughed. Wang bent down and gripped Naama’s chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him, “Don’t worry, I’ll treat you just as brutally as we treat our whores.”
“You know, rutting whores doesn’t improve your skills in bed in the slightest.”

Wang didn’t appreciate that comment. He struck her again across the mouth, splitting her lip open. “We’ll be back soon enough,” he spat, and motioned for his men to leave the room. The door was slid shut, and Naama was left alone.

[Naama]

The men didn’t return for the remainder of the night. The candle flickered in the dark, progressively melting as time passed. Naama didn’t have much to stimulate her thoughts except for the rather crude things she’d do to them once she was free of her bonds. Such was the way of a Myrian raised Chaktawe. Time passed slowly in the dim room. Occasionally she could hear footsteps beyond the walls, and sounds of laughter. Several hours later, silence. The rope was what she worked on first. Trying to find a way to ease her hands through the bonds to free herself. After twenty minutes, there was hardly any progress, and the sound of footsteps steadily approaching the door across from her forced her to cease what she was doing.

It came as a surprise to see that it was a young boy, Squirt in fact, who stepped into the low light of the candle. He held a finger to his lips and brought out a knife, which he used to cut Naama’s bonds. Strapped to his back were her swords.
“You’re getting a million honey cakes after this, Squirt.” She murmured with a vicious grin. They stepped out into the hallway of the building; dark, for the exception of several more flickering candles. Squirt motioned her to follow, but Naama wasn’t about to leave without some bloodshed. She entered the nearest room with two slumbering men, covered the mouth of the tattooed one and slit his throat with the sharpened hilt of her swords. His head dropped on the table, blood pooling into the cracks in the wood and onto the floor.

The thud of the first victim startled the second grunt awake, but the halfbreed barely wasted time with him. She slammed her hilt into his forehead, cracking open his skull and with a kick she shoved him off and proceeded to the next room. Two more men, their snores as irritating as their stench. Naama disposed of the first one as swiftly as the last two, but his death awoke his companion. He shouted something in Lhavitian and swung a brandished hand axe at her.

“Yes, just wake the entire building, make my life harder!” She growled, and caught the blade of his axe with raised hooks. With a jerk, she tossed the weapon against the wall and raked her dagger-hilts across the man’s face, blinding him. He roared in pain while Naama swept her blade across his throat, ending his suffering in less than a minute.

Outside, the voices of furious men emerged, their footsteps thundering against the floorboards. She glanced about her and found Squirt in the corner, holding his dagger to his chest. “No room in here, kiddo, let’s run for it.” Sprinting down the hallway they passed through a doorway at the end and found themselves in the lit streets of the outside world.

[Naama]

It turns out the pair didn’t get quite as far as they’d hoped. The end of the alley they’d been racing down had only one exit and was enclosed by numerous buildings on either side, no doubt the homes of the thugs who made a living here. Their chance at freedom was crushed when several men blocked their escape route, and more were coming from behind, making a total of seven men and possibly a dozen extra rousing themselves for a chance to spill some blood. It wasn’t looking good.

“Seems I don’t have Hawkins’ luck after all,” Naama smirked, raising her swords, “You better know how to use that dagger, lad.”
“I can cut stuff!” He yelled, “Come on!”

The first idiot approached, expelling a battle cry. Wielding a heavy weapon, his sweeps were slow, and Naama easily dodged them. One step to the side and she jerked her knee into his gut, forcing him to double over. With a quick downward thrust of her swords, his severed head rolled along the cobblestone floor, spurting blood.

It became a blur of motion. Each swing of the sword resulted in the spilling of her opponent’s blood or her own. She fought with her body as well as her weapon, dancing between men and laughing into the putrid air. She didn’t know where Squirt was, she didn’t care. Fighting was in her blood. Carving her mark in a victim’s skin was an exhilaration, ingrained into her teachings as a young child. She’d never give that up. Not now, even heavily outnumbered as she was. And that was the difference. She was one woman (or one and a half counting the orphan), and it was inevitable that she would fall.

From her arms and shoulder blood seeped from deep wounds. She was feeling the exertion of strength in her bones, but still she kept fighting. All she saw was red. All she heard was the crashing of waves against the hull of a mighty ship, and the cracking of thunder on the horizon.

And then the voices of children. Battle cries.

Naama finished gutting her opponent and glanced up, as did all of the remaining men, to see a stampede of children headed towards them, holding makeshift weapons. And then suddenly Squirt was right beside her. She looked at him, laughing, “Oh you little cheat. You turned the tide.”
Squirt offered her his toothy grin, “I might have loosened a lock or two before we left.”

The children, ranging from six to fifteen attacked the men in droves and with their attention drawn away, Naama motioned for Squirt to follow, “Let’s go before the authorities decide they want a piece of ass.”

Their return to the Red Lantern was quick, careful to use the back roads to avoid detection, but it wasn’t necessary. They arrived at the brothel fifteen minutes later, and their entrance was greeted with blatant stares. It wasn’t until Naama and Squirt were finally in her room that she noticed just why the women had looked so disgusted. She was caked in blood, several wounds still trickling more of it onto her attire.

“I just got these boots too. What a shame.” Naama sighed, glancing at Squirt who was now seated comfortably on her bed. “So, what now, Squirt? You’re out of business.”
“I could work for you!” He replied. Naama chuckled.
“Doing what, pick pocketing fat bastards?”
“I can do that.”
“Then we’ll make your payment treats. You stick around and pluck unobserved valuables from simpletons and you get sweets for your efforts. Do we have an accord?”
Squirt jumped up and saluted, “Aye aye, sir-- er, madame!”

Smiling, Naama grabbed Squirt’s arm and dragged him toward the door, opened it and shoved him outside,
“Good! Your job begins now.”

Then she slammed door slammed shut.

FIN.

[Ophelia]

Experience Naama: +2 Running, +4 Hooked Swords, +4 Dual Wield, +2 Unarmed Combat, +1 Medicine Lore Naama: Chaktawe Nicknames, Hit On By A Little Kid, Body Disposal Methods (Over a Wall), This, My Friend, Is A Pint, Surprise Attack/Kidnap, Backtalking Your Captors, "Hiring" An Orphan, Squirt Notes Can I steal Squirt? Please? Absolutely adorable and I liked the kickass attitude of Naama. Squirt is adorable. (Yes, I have said that twice now). Realistic and I liked the twist at the end with the orphans. I hope you like the new template. Questions, queries, compliments of my epic avatar, PM me or spam me. Whatever. <3