Completed Essentials (Edreina)

[Razkar]

"Here, your friend looks a lil' bit green..."

Rakzar cocked an eyebrow after the fruit seller caught the gold coin he'd flipped towards him, turned... and smiled wide as he saw never more a perfect picture of paralyzing terror in his life.

Poor Mrrko. He didn't even knew what he was doing.

"Yes. She does."

Cumberstrike gave the queer savage a quick once over, but then just shrugged it off. Heathen ways were alien to him and hey, a gold miza for his wares was always welcome. The Myrian gave him a jaunty wave and wandered off back to his friend, taking the reins with that dug-eating grin that he knew she would see through in an instant.

"Oh! Glad you're back. Here is your be-... steed."

Razkar took it with a nod and a mock thoughtful frown. "Much thanks, mistress."

And then she was walking, no, marching, no, stomping away from him, determined to put as much distance as practical between him and his demonic pet. Razkar rolled his eyes and absently put his hand out flat, feeling Mrrko's fleshy gums tickle his hand as he gorged himself.

"No sense of humor,barbarians, Mrrko," he said, just loud enough for her to hear, taking a chunk out his own apple, "Then again, Sea People..."

Edreina whirled and something red fell towards her. Razkar nodded his approval as her hand shot up to catch the apple out of the air. He and Mrrko walked past her. He winked.

"Breakfast. Now, unless you know way, might want to stay with us..."

The walk was not long, as it turned out. They had to dodge and weave around a few obstructions - street repairs, apparently, a tower of cobbles being fastened to the ground by some strange goo-like substance that was apparently all the rage - but Razkar followed the instructions to the letter.

Valini Trading, a moderate-sized but tastefully decorated business front, was clear as day, large sign proclaiming both its purpose and owner: Leo Valini, Trader, Banker, Lender And Friend. Razkar snorted softly at the grandiose banner. Man clearly had self-esteem issues...

Left, then a walk to the fountain... and...

"There." He said, pointing, Edreina following his finger to the plain sign with a simple coin on its side. It was swinging gently in the breeze and seemed crammed between two warehouses, but even from here Razkar could see it was... different. "That is it."

The Spinning Coin's frontage was plain but far busier than a normal warehouse. Even just walking up, which took less than a chime, the two travelers saw men enter upright and steady... then other leave bandy-legged and sometimes missing obvious items of clothing. And jewelry. And sometimes teeth.

Definitely more like the Blue Bull.

Once they were outside they could easily hear the cacophony from inside. Ah, sounds he knew well. Laughing and shouting, arguing and the dull, irregular roars of men watching other men beat each other senseless. Even music was audible, thin, reedy string instruments and deep bass drums keeping time. Smashing glasses and the scent of Taloba Grey...

Razkar smiled thinly. "Yes... definitely place..."

He hitched up Mrrko on the other side of the street, turning to Edreina's quizzical expression. "I want you in clear sight. Knights make patrol often, I hear. Not want you in there."

Of course there would be some denial, excuse, pleading, or just some indignant "I am not a child" complaint, but Razkar was in no mood to hear it, and raised a hand.

"I care for you, Edri, and not think bad thing will happen. But place like that... it is for man like me. Not woman like you. Please trust. I not be long."

The bag of apples was handed over and with one final pat of Mrrko's snout, the Myrian walked away and plunged through the door, into the gloomy chaos of the Spinning Coin.

Reciept:Apples: 1gm

OOCDude, I nearly fell off my chair chuckling at your post...

[Edreina]

"No sense of humor,barbarians, Mrrko. Then again, Sea People..." Oh, that was it. Edreina whirled on her friend, a biting remark on her tongue. She was terrified of something and he was capitalizing. She knew that it was a joke, but that did not make it any less annoying. But, before she could bite off the first word, something red was tossed at her with such speed that she could only reach up and catch it with a small flinch. An apple. Probably sour... "Breakfast. Now, unless you know way, might want to stay with us..." Edreina put as much indignation into a glare as she could manage as her annoyance was amplified by the damned savage's haughty wink. Oh. Just wait until I find something you're afraid of, Myrian. Despite that, she stalked alongside Razkar, consuming the apple with pure venom. Despite all her attempts at Bravado, the redhead found herself leaping sideways every time the creature did so much as look at her through one of its sideways eyes. Plotting my murder... "There... That is it." Curious in spite of herself, Edreina found herself looking in the direction of the Myrian's gesture. In all of Syliras, Edreina had never seen a shadier front. Men entered with their pride and their Mizas but left with multiple broken bones if they were lucky - in the time that it took them to walk up, Edreina watched with shock as a beaten man was tossed from the Coin to lay in the street. Hopefully, he was only sleeping it off. Already the stench of bodies made filthy by sweat and... other things... was assaulting the Svefra's unaccustomed nostrils. The sound was one thing. But Edreina found herself wrinkling their nose as they ambled closer and closer. Yes... definitely place... I want you in clear sight. Knights make patrol often, I hear. Not want you in there." Edreina watched with a puzzled expression as the midnight creature was tied - was that all it took it keep the beast in place? - and Razkar adjusted his various vestments, an unconscious ritual Edreina had noticed him performing whenever he was about to enter a new place. At the request that she stay in sight, Edreina shrugged and prepared to say that she would do so. The Spinning Coin was not of interest to her. She wanted to meet people. But not those people. "I care for you, Edri, and not think bad thing will happen. But place like that... it is for man like me. Not woman like you. Please trust. I not be long." Edreina rolled her eyes. He seriously overestimated her bravery sometimes. The woman crossed her arms with the bag in one hand, shifting her weight away from the establishment ever so slightly. "Don't worry about me." Her arched eyebrow and pursed lips spoke only of disinterest, perhaps to the point of disgust. "Just go on and have a ball. I'll be waiting here." Silently, she hoped that he would not get himself into too much trouble. Perhaps this sort of gathering was a bit too much Razkar's forte. Nonetheless, once he had disappeared into the murky interior, Edreina leaned up against the wall, keeping her eyes firmly set on the beast that was now her only company. Its eyes, she found, were only upon the bag of apples weighing down her right arm. "Oh, you want one of these?" She asked, glaring slightly, hefting the bag just enough for the hoofed demon's peerless eyes to follow it. "You really want one?" Edreina pulled out an apple and rolled it between her fingers, just out of reach of the tied monster. But then, something changed. In the inky depths, Edreina saw a simple sort of wanting, similar to any animal she knew of the sea. It was primal, but not feral. What was she doing, taunting a beast in such a way, just because she was afraid of it. It had not - yet - made any malicious moves upon the maiden. With a begrudging sigh, Edreina looked away from the horse and, with eyes clenched tightly shut, offered him the apple with her flattened palm - better not tempt it with her fingers. When the weight of the apple disappeared, Edreina turned to see it disappearing slowly between the horse's flat teeth. He closed his eyes in what Edreina could only relate to contentment as the apple's sweet juices were released to dribble down its whiskered muzzle. "Ok... So you're not too bad." The woman's appetent statement was made at the same time that her back rested against a wall once more. Now assured that she would not be tackled to the ground and stomped into a red-headed mush, Edreina began to people watch. The comings and goings around her happened at much more rapid a pace than she was used to seeing upon the Flotilla. Everyone moved with purpose, wasting little time. Someone would leave a building only a chime or two after they entered it, arms laden. How they managed to do their business so quickly astounded the- Edreina leapt to the side with a wordless cry as she felt something warm, soft, and slightly wet brush against her arm. "By Laviku's saggy-!" Much to her surprise - not - the assailant was no one other than the creature she had just given an apple. "Hey! Don't you go tasting me! We are not friends!" She leveled a single finger at the beast, bag of apples in the hand held away from it. Her wrath was mellowed by a blush as several turned for an instant in their busy lives to stare at the feral ginger screeching at some poor animal. Regaining a modicum of composure, Edreina crossed hr arms again, watching as the beast's eyes followed the bag's movement again. Part of her wanted to admit that he probably had just been asking for another apple. But that part was glared into silence by the suspicion that the silent creature was plotting against her still. "Nuh uh!" she muttered, just loud enough for the horse to hear. "You betrayed my trust. So you don't get anymore!" With a huff, she settled back against the wall - a pace further away from the night-colored-demon - and waited for its master to return.

[Razkar]

Razkar was impressed at how smoothly events followed one another. It spoke to him of time-tested efficiency, everyone knowing their place and their roles. Little was wasted, and only the minimum was given away. It told him that he was far from the first sellsword hired under those conditions.

The Myrian stood in the doorway for a long moment, letting the brawling crowd see him, a silent announcement of his present. Not that many did. The dice- and card-strewn tables were garnering much more attention, half of them packed with gamblers and dealers, onlookers and whores buzzing around them like flies. The band at the stage on one end was belting out some fierce barbarian medley, a counterpoint to the two sweat-glistening figures wrestling on a mat in front of them, ringed by shouting, gesticulating men.

And the bar, of course. Long, stocked and manned by a dead-eyed human with a straggly beard and sinewy, scarred arms. Razkar made eye contact with him and he saw not even a glimmer of either recognition or respect. Razkar simply was, as far as Gene Duval was concerned. He could continue that way for a hundred years or be snuffed out in the next chime... either one would leave him cold.

The Myrian shoulders past some half-asleep drunk at the bar and ordered an ale. Gene slid the dirty tankard across the bar to him and Razkar sipped... and studied the mirror. A reverse of everything behind him played out in a kaleidoscope of mortal vices. He even noticed a curtained doorway that perfumed females were leading men to... and then back out again.

Razkar frowned, instinctive disapproval flaring. Females should not comport themselves so, and males should not use them. It was... unseemly. He sipped the brew and immediately wondered what the piss content of it was, but before he could ask, a familiar figure detached itself from the crowd around the wrestlers.

A figure with a scar on his head.

"You're timely. We appreciate that." Razkar opened his mouth to ask who "we" were, but the man was already stepping away from the bar, probably expecting the question. "Come. We have a table."

Razkar did as he was told, taking the tankard with him despite the ammonia-heavy flavor. He watched as people reacted to the nondescript, casually-dressed individual who'd invited him to the Spinning Coin. Respect mingled with fear... mainly the second one. People moved out of his way or scowled at his back, but to his face most nodded respectfully or raised wary hands. To the human's credit, he seemed to favor nor malign anyone, returning most of those waves and nods but little else.

He's got better things to focus his mind on...

Like the table at one corner. Three men occupy it, sedate card game unfolding between them... and with an untouched hand sitting in front of an empty chair. The scarred man makes a beeline for it and resumes his place in the game, nodding to the only free chair.

Razkar sits, and the three other men take him in. He does the same. They are an odd trio, but he thinks he can just about guess their roles.

One has hair covering most of his face and cruel, animal eyes, just waiting to be told to break something. A brace of knives is slung across his chest and day-old food is caught in his beard. His brow seemed permanently creased and he gazes at Razkar in undisguised challenge.

The one next to his left is dressed better - more linen, less leather - and sips from what smells like a more expensive drink. A pipe filled with wafting smoke is between his lips and his hands... manicured. Clean. Not a workman's hands, and those eyes that look up at him are studious and sure, bereft of a physical challenge, unlike the brute that's obviously his bodyguard.

But the third man... he's something different. He's dressed similarly to the brute, but has only a few days worth of stubble. His eyes are quick but calm, weighing up all he looks at, including Razkar... but he still has a sword on one hip and a gauche on the other. Worn weapons, not showy... trusted. The ring on his finger, too. Emerald in gold with a tiny "V" in the middle. Worth more than a sellsword could afford...

The Brute, The Smoker and The Stranger.

"We've heard about you." The Smoker says without preamble, fidgeting with his cards and finally discarding two into the pot. "Probably surprised, eh? Well, word gets around quick. Bryan here-" he gestured with his pipe to the scarred man, who studied his own cards with a grimace "-saw your little performance in the Pits. Hammered that cocky black bastard, didn't you?"

There was a pause and Razkar realized he was expected to answer. All eyes were on him as he nodded. "Thought he was better than he was."

"You the same?" The Brute's voice was like bricks sliding together. "'nother savage with no clothes and no brains, thinkin' us civilized types are soft touches?"

Razkar flicked a glance over him and raised an eyebrow, as if to silently suggest that if he was what passed for civilized, the Myrian wept for Syliras.

"No. I am not."

"You speak Common well enough." The Stranger said, leaning back in his chair and regarding the Myrian with those cool eyes. Refined accent, too. Yet he was a bodyguard? "How long have you been out of the jungle?"

"One year."

"Where've you been?"

"Cyphrus."

"What've you been doing?"

"Working as sellsword."

"For whom?"

Razkar blinked. Most others would have said who, but only an educated man would have used whom. And why is he doing most of the talking, while the Smoker just watches through a cloud?

"That is my business."

There was a slight shuffling from the scarred man, now known as Bryan. The others were still, unconcerned. Razkar stared back, tapping a steady but slow tattoo on the edge of his tankard.

"We have to know your quality," Smoker said finally, tapping out some burning ash and replenishing his pipe quickly, "Past employers as a good means for us to know that."

"You know my... quality." Razkar said abruptly before the man could gain speed again. He had guessed that some prying would be attempted, but much as he disliked Haev Provedan, he had... something of a business ethic. "Your man... Bryan... he has seen. He knows. Would not have called me to here if you did not want my skills."

A quick look was exchanged between the men. Well, three of them, and Razkar was fascinated despite himself. So much could be revealed in such quick but small gestures. Stranger and Smoker looked at each other, then at Bryan, who looked positively uncomfortable now. Perhaps he was paid for every sellsword he recruited.

Only the Brute was indifferent to the silent commune around him. His glare remained, his upturned lip and he spat a wad of tobacco juice next to Razkar's sandals.

Razkar looked down. He looked back up. And smiled.

"We do have need for a man of your talents," Smoker said, and Razkar crushed a smile. Already that was becoming a familiar, even cliched sound to his ears. Did all rich and amoral men learn that in some kind of finishing school? "We have various interests in the city, and outside of it. Caravans, shipping, money-lending, all activities where sometimes force become a regrettable necessity."

Razkar nodded, thinking that he'd never met a rich man who'd yet realized that bribery, corruption and intimidation were force. You didn't need to be adept at swinging steel to use it.

"Thus, someone of your abilities would be most useful to us."

"Especially in the near-future," Stranger said, breaking in with smooth certainty, "The business world is as much founded on steel and blood as mizas and economics." Those lidded, knowing eyes widened a fraction as he smiled. "Coming out of the Cyphrus region, one would imagine you'd known that. How is Haev Provedan doing?"

Razkar's jaw tightened, but even that tiny gesture was enough to tell the Stranger what he wanted to know. A chuckle of victory and he took a sip from the wine glass at his elbow, nodding.

"That's what I thought. Another man who must walk a fine line." The Myrian stayed quiet and the Stranger nodded again, almost in approval. Good. He had no use for mercenaries with loose tongues. "I did hear about a Myrian who worked with Provedan... worked very well, actually."

He leaned over to the Smoker and patted his elbow.

"Remember that story about the Myrian and the Akalak? In Riverfall? The Arena?"

"I heard something about it..." The Smoker started steadily enough, then realization flashed behind his eyes and they turned back to Razkar in surprise "... yes..."

Razkar kept his face inscrutable. He knew bravado and braggadocio were common things among those who sold their swords for a living, but he would not stoop to such arrogance. He had not been raised or trained to do so. Instead he waited while the quarter of humans (Bryan now looking much happier) studied him carefully... and the Smoker finally nodded.

"I think we can find a place for you." The Brute growled almost imperceptibly but the Smoker silenced him with a glare. Something stirred in Razkar, something that was tired of suffering under that human's petulant glare. "But you understand the need for... subtlety, hmm?"

Razkar leaned back in his chair and took a hefty swallow of his ale. He immediately regretted doing so, but if he could hide his scorn for The Brute, hiding the taste of that swill would be easy.

"I understand. You must keep what I do in shadow. So knights and people who rule, people you do business with, they don't think you are criminal." He paused fractionally, and decided to show them something else. "That is why you not tell me any names. Not business. Not meet where you work, but in tavern instead, and no-one say who is in charge."

He was gratified to see a faint ripple of unease on the Smoker's face... but something that could have been a smile quirked at the Stranger's. The Brute just grunted, unimpressed, but Razkar ignored him. Or tried to. Bryan looked momentarily worried but it passed.

"It seems..." The Smoker said carefully, fixing Razkar with his best authoritative glare, which bounced off Razkar like hail off plate armor "... you have a quick mind as well as quick hands."

Razkar raised his tankard in a salute, drained it and then set it down.

"I have moments..."

His eyes flashed to the smoked-out windows, covered long ago with paint and stuck-on trash so passing pedestrians would not be shocked by the scandal inside. He couldn't see anything through them, just vague shadows and outlines, and hearing them? Impossible through the throaty degeneracy in the Spinning Coin.

He wondered about Edreina, and hoped she hadn't killed his horse.

[Edreina]

OOCSorry. I couldn't think what to write for the longest time.At some point, while Edreina was pointedly looking away, some fellows had wandered over and begun examining Mrrko. When the creature's annoyed whinny reached the woman's ears - startling her slightly - she was forced to pay attention to the proceedings. One man, rather hulking, had Razkar's creature's hoof raised and was examining its edge with a calloused thumb, eyes narrowed keenly. The other man was a bit thinner, reminding Edreina of a yet undiscovered species of rodent, stood to the side, beady black eyes roaming the beast's outline. "Uh... What are you doing?" Edreina turned to the pair, arms still crossed. The men looked up suddenly, as if having not noticed the red head before she spoke. "This yo' 'orse?" The bigger man spoke, standing up and placing his hands on his hips. If you say no, they won't listen to anything you have to say. Lie, avoice commanded deep within the recesses of her mind. "Yes. And I would appreciate it if you took your hands off." Edreina put on a hardened visage and inserted an edge into her voice. Something about these men being so close to the creature unnerved the woman. The men shared a glance, surprised that the wisp of a woman was speaking to them in such a manner. "Tis a fine 'orse," the muscled man appraised, hooded eyes barely visible beneath a neanderthal's brow. "Yes yes. Now please." Arching an eyebrow, Edreina made a waving motion with her hand, usually reserved to shoo troublesome children onto another ship. This earned nothing but a chuckle from the larger man and a shake of the head from his accomplice. "Dja be willin' to sellim?" "No, I wouldn't." Edreina snapped, stepping purposefully towards the beast's large, black head and, channeling a certain Myrian, glared at the men, her hands on the tied reins. "Ya sure? I've got coin. I know a man who'd be 'appy to 'ave 'im as a carriage 'orse. Plenny o' food an' a nice stable." Edreina sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Don't know when to give up! "Does this look like a carriage horse to you?" She sighed, turning her icy eyes upon the duo. At their look of confusion, Edreina continued, "This horse comes straight from the steamy depths of Falyndar." It might be a lie, but it was an interesting one nonetheless. It kept the men quiet long enough for Edreina to build on the lie. "It was bred by warriors, to be a warrior's horse. It can smell blood and fear for miles, it can hear the clang of metal upon metal from across the forest." The thinner man began to reach for the creature's muzzle, for whatever reason. But the horse was not having it. As if emphasizing her words, his ears laid back and he bared his long teeth, a low houghing coming from its barrel chest. "I wouldn't do that!" Edreina attempted to act as if concerned for the man's safety. "He was also trained to tear the flesh from bone of anyone who is not his master." Swallowing her fear, Edreina held her palm out to Mrrko, still sticky with the juice of an apple. His demeanor changed immediately as his ears perked up to snuffle at her hand, looking for treats. The feeling made Edreina want to run and hide and never touch another apple. But its effect was apparent. The men were no longer interested in the horse, but Edreina. "And you. You're the master o' this beast?" The incredulity in the man's voice was palpable. He snorted in a way that made Edriena's blood simmer. So what if this horse scared her shitless. Was it that hard to believe she could own it? Edreina glared at the man, wordless, silencing him after a moment. In her mind, Edreina tried to draw on who she was pretending to be. Her blue eyes hardened and her lips settled into an unusual, thin line. "Ah well... Right. Sorry for bothering you ma'am." It was the smaller one that spoke, grabbing his friend and hauling him away. It was a parody to see such a small man in control of a larger one. As they walked away, they continued to glance back at Edreina, who remained close to the monster, obviously arguing about something. When they were out of sight, Edreina turned her glare on Mrrko. "You owe me, nag..." With a flip of her own tail, oddly resembling a horse swatting away flies, Edreina spun and made her way back to the wall, waiting for the damned beast's owner to appear.

[Razkar]

"Fifteen."

"Lets keep this in the realms of reality, shall we? Seven."

"Twelve."

"Nine."

"Unlucky number. Ten."

"Unlucky for whom?"

Again with that "whom" from the Stranger, and though it was Smoker he was haggling with, it was he who butted in with that. And did his "boss" (Razkar was already suspecting he'd earned the quotation marks) snap at his "bodyguard" to be quiet and mind his place? No, he did not. So Razkar talked to him, instead.

"Unlucky if man has to worry if he is paying sellsword enough."

"That sounded very close to a threat, Razkar."

The Brute stirred like some beast scenting blood, or the possibility of it, but once again, the Myrian ignored him, smiling tightly at The Stranger.

"Just good business. I am worth that much."

Eyebrows arched at the first real display of bravado Razkar had shown so far. The Stranger scratched under his chin and grimaced thoughtfully.

"Really?"

"Really."

"And how do we know that?"

"Because if you did not, would not have sent man-" he flicked a finger Bryan's way, who seemed surprised to even be mentioned "-to find me not even half day after see me in Pit. You heard, you see talent, and you go to meet quick, before other man can hire."

"And what's to stop you signing on with some other employer if they offer you more?"

"My word." Razkar said simply, but firmly, and the humans knew he was not to be questioned on that, even by men as influential as they. "And remember, I am savage who like fight. Long as I have it with you service, why would I go?"

A brief, contemplative silence... and then what Razkar suspected was proven to him. The Stranger nodded his head, and the Smoker spoke.

"Ten gold a day, starting on the first day of Summer when the Watchtower changes. You'll get your mizas on the last day of Summer."

And that was that, as they say. Razkar nodded firmly. No hands were extended, no parchment signed nor toasts made. These were practical men, and they knew that oaths and parchment were worth nothing in the real world. Greed, pride and cowardice... they were far stronger.

"Not petching right."

Then the Brute had to go and spoil it.

"Ekvan, mind yourself-"

"Ten a day?!" The Brute leaned over the table, voice dripping fury and, once again, he was addressing the Stranger, who looked nonplussed for now. "Who the fuck's worth that?! I only get six!"

"Different skills earn different rates," Stranger said reasonably, but only a fool would miss the steel underlying the patient tone, the hardness that came to those glinting eyes, "And our Myrian friend here is worth it, for now."

Razkar's head cocked and the Smoker finally remembered what his role was, speaking up with a little haste.

"Should you under-perform, Razkar, that rate will be dropped. As you can see, it's a premium, in recognition of your abilities with skill and bare hands, not to mention your aptitude with healing your own wounds and instructing others as to the arts of war. But I do not pay for inactivity. Consider this a... way to keep you on your toes."

Razkar absorbed the words and could have smirked in mocking disbelief. Too late now for you to drop that "I", he thought with some vindictiveness, trying to make me believe you're in charge.

He slowly turned his head from the glowering, outraged Brute to the calm in the storm: the Stranger, resting his chin on one hand and looking bored with what was unfolding. He was the one Razkar spoke to; not Smoker.

"I accept. Where do I go for work?"

"You can come here," the Stranger said, as if unwilling to maintain a charade that had apparently been revealed, "We do some business with Gene and many of our men spend their mizas here. Come by here every day, no earlier than noon, and we'll have something for you, perhaps. If it's truly important, we'll contact you."

"How?"

"You're about to tell us where you lay your head."

Razkar hesitated for only a moment or two, knowing that doing so showed a chink in his armor that the Stranger would be concerned about and the Brute might pounce on. But he laid his head in the Goldengrotto, Edreina's pride and joy... could he risk her becoming a target, even inadvertently?

Yes, he realized coldly, if reluctantly, because there's no other choice. For now.

"There is ship at Docks. Goldengrotto. Svefra. I rent bed there. If I am not there, Fighter's Pit is where I go often."

"Why not gedda bed like a proper petchin' person?" The Brute snarled, determined to goad the savage. "Or do you just sleep in the fuckin' branches of the nearest tree, mos' times?"

Razkar turned his head slowly, and he smiled. He was learning how to smile at these people, especially belligerent bastards like this ape-like human. But those black eyes did not smile; the movement of his lips never reached them, and some dark, growling part of Razkar promised some reckoning for that comment.

"It suits me. Is there any other thing?"

He stood, waiting respectfully as looks were exchanged and the Brute threw his cards down in disgust, his mood for games of chance soured. The Smoker shook his head and refilled his pipe. Unbidden, a bar wench appeared at the Stranger's elbow and refilled his cup. He sipped it and shook his head... and the Smoker talked, like a good puppet.

"No. We'll pay for the ale."

"Not very good."

"Of course not. Stallion's better. This place... people don't come here for fine ales and wines, Razkar." That knowing smile again that made Razkar nervous, though he understood that was it's purpose. "But you've been to the Blue Bull of Riverfall, I bet, so you understand that. You'll hear from us."

The Myrian nodded shortly and indulged himself one small measure of bravado more as he turned to leave, fixing the Brute in a dead, cold stare. The human returned it hotly, but just as he got ready to snarl out some threat-

-Razkar was walking away, leaving his words to be spat at empty air. Unseen by them, the smile was still on his face, but not it caressed his black eyes and the Stranger's own lips curled into a brief grin before fading again. Ekvan was so touchy about these things, and was getting worse.

Well... perhaps we have the means to resolve that issue now. Should the need arise.

"You really think he's worth nearly a thousand mizas a season?"

The human turned to Donovan, who'd relighted his pipe and was puffing out rapid, brief bursts of air, already calculating where the gold to pay the savage mercenary would come from, how they would liquidate it, where they could use him, how they could distance themselves if things went awry. He took a sip of his wine and watched Razkar's receding back, heading straight for the door now business was concluded.

"Yes." Leo Valini said quietly, silencing Ekvan with a mere glance, befitting a man of his influence. "But it depends on how we use him." He smiled briefly, a season's worth of machinations already blossoming in his Machiavellian mind. "And when you have a tool of that quality, you don't let it go rusty..."

Razkar stepped into the street and the sun like a drowning man coming up for air. His eyes were nearly stinging after walking through clouds of tobacco smoke and the stench of vomit and stale beer clung to his cloak. Immediately he focused on the red head over the way, picking his way over dung piles and around carts until he was back with Edreina.

"Well, that went well," he said in a guarded fashion, patting Mrrko as the horse whinnied a relieved greeting, "You two have fun?"

[Edreina]

"You two have fun?" Edreina rolled her eyes, unable to hide a smile despite herself. "Yeah. You could call it fun." She walked over to retrieve the bag of apples, shaking her head. "Ready to move on to the Bazaar?" They set off in the direction of the Bazaar, Edreina ever so slightly more relaxed near the beast though she kept Razkar carefully between herself and it. At least she didn't jump any more. "How did it go?" She finally asked, unable to bite her tongue any more. After several more chimes of ambling through the busy, fast-moving streets, Edreina and Razkar finally happened upon the Grand Bazaar. It was a flouring medley of sight and sound and scent. Dozens of stalls and tents filled with every matter of clothing, food, drink, and armor one could imagine had congregated in this one place. It was claustrophobic but the constant movement created an illusion of openness. Edreina felt herself creep slightly closer to Razkar as they pushed into the fray. On the Anchorage, people were crammed in everywhere. But there, she knew most and trusted nearly as many. They were a common people with uniting desires. Here, with so many races and religions and factions clogging into one area, the Svefra was quickly beginning to feel anxious. So many people. Even more unseen. It made her wary to be clustered with so many strangers at one time. Luckily, though, the Myrian at her side was able to create some sort of bubble. She smiled up at him sheepishly, the bravado and social aspect all but depleted as she continued to distance herself from her natural element. She wanted to meet all of Mizahar. Just not at once. "I'll just... follow you. Alright?" Her nervous fingers knotted at waist level as she found her eyes flicking about rapidly in an attempt to keep up with all of the comings and goings, head following so frequently that sometimes her hair would nearly resemble her weapon of choice. So much to see. So much to see.

[Razkar]

"How did it go?"

It wasn't long before her natural curiosity won over; sooner than he'd expected, actually. The trio were winding towards the Bazaar, deeper in the bowels of the Stormhold (literally, in fact; Razkar had been told it was mostly in the basement of the Citadel). The crowds common to the Warehouse District were thinning and a new breed was taking over. Less carts, more finery in their clothes; more women, too. Obviously heading for the same place they were.

"Like I say, went well," Razkar said, keeping his guard up even around her and hoping she didn't take it personally. "I now have job. Must go and check every day at Spinning Coin. Unless something is important..." he cleared his throat and gave her a nervous glance "... then they will find me at Fighter's Pit... or Grotto."

There was a whirl of red hair to his side and Razkar wondered insanely how her head didn't just snap off with that constant movement. Numerous emotions flickered across her face and he found himself looking away in... shame? No, not quite so all-encompassing. Just simple guilt.

"That is where I lay my head, and that is what they asked!" He said, voice rising despite his attempts to calmly justify himself. "But I not say that we are friend, just that I rent bed. So... not so bad."

It was, or could be, but Razkar wasn't about to elaborate further... namely that if his employers did know he cared for her and decided to strong arm him, all they'd have to do would be put a knife to her throat. The Myrian couldn't bare that idea...

Because he knew what he'd do if that came to pass.

Razkar huffed angrily and shook the thoughts away, quickening his pace, flowing black hair swaying like curtains at his shoulders. Already a faint perimeter was establishing itself around them, the barbarian's fear of his appearance working in his favor for a change.

It meant he didn't have to shoulder through them like some child... though Razkar couldn't help but wonder exactly what they thought would happen if they did brush past him. Did they assume he would turn into some frothing beserker for the sake of a nudge?

They're a simple people, remember.

"I'll just... follow you. Alright?"

Razkar gave her a half-smile and rolled his eyes, pleased to note that her fear of Mrrko was now being overridden by her desire to get away from the throng of humanity surrounding them. Well, not just humans, by the look of it.

"Is there words, 'Blind leading blind'?" Razkar said with a wry chuckle, deliberately showing his teeth for the crowd ahead of them. "Well... long as blind are scary, I suppose..."

The Bazaar was beyond chaotic, he soon found. There was no real pattern or logic to how or where the stalls were set up, their size, their wares. Tiny one-table operations selling knickknacks rubbed shoulders (or legs) with sprawling pseudo-storefronts with multiple employees and products for sale. Caged pets squawked and growled at them; exquisite carpets and rugs decked on wall, overcome a moment late by an avalanche of spices in jars that made Razkar's head swim. Stalls that sold weapons, cutlery, medicines, clothes from every corner of the word, even shipping supplies and religious icons.

Razkar's eyes widened when he looked down the nearest street... and saw that they were not actually in the Bazaar yet.

This was just the over-spill.

"We may be here for a while..."

[Edreina]

"We may be here for a while..." Edreina squirmed uncomfortably at the thought, nearly silver eyes flashing about. People here were packed more tightly than fish in a net. And the smell. Gods! The smell. So many people were packed into one place, sweating and trodding through the various animal excrement. Land dwellers were always complaining about the fishy smell of the Anchorage. Did they smell themselves? Perhaps Edreina should not have come along. There were so many people; so many strangers! When Edreina had come last, Syna had barely woken and there were few patrons out yet. Now it seemed as if the whole of Syliras had invaded the cramped Bazaar. Edreina stayed close to Razkar, alternating between watching him and watching her surroundings. Before long, she found herself resting close against Mrrko's side as Razkar did his business, using the animal as a bit of a shield. Slowly, she was realizing that the creature would not kill her. Half the time she wondered if it even noticed that she existed. Help... That was what the brown eyes said to Edreina in one of her many expansive glances. It took her an instant to find the eyes once again, hidden as they were. Across the aisle from the business that Razkar was currently conducting was an animal vendor. Cages were stacked high on either side of the store owner, stacked to dizzying heights that even the most skilled ship-loader would have had trouble balancing. Nestled between two columns of cages was a savage looking man, adorned in furs and ink and a grimace despite the litter of puppies in his lap. As Edreina drifted closer to the cluster, not even aware of her movements, she was astounded at the sheer variety of noises: squawks, mewls, yips, whimpers... all matter of call was accounted for. But the eyes... no sound came from them. The silent creature was shadowed by the multitude of cages above it, all that could be seen was the light reflecting off of those big eyes, and the little black nose. "See somethin'?" The human's grunt was so expected that Edreina started slightly, turning her attention to the man. "I have puppies," he motioned to his lap, "kits, kittens, fledglin's..." His hand roamed listlessly, flicking this way and that to the columns. "Uh no," Edreina answered automatically, unable to keep her eyes from the pair of eyes. "I- I mean yes." She knelt and rested her finger tips upon the cage's bars, blue eyes attempting to burn away the darkness. The man nodded without a word and, lifting the pelt around his lap like a sling for the wriggling pups, walked around the the back of the cages. Edreina watched as a thick hand darted into the cage and snatched the eyes away roughly. Edreina rose to her feet and waited for the man to return. What are you doing? When he returned, the man sat back down roughly, causing the puppies to yowl in annoyance as they bounced up and then back down into his lap. Looking up at the red-head, appraising her, he held open his hand, displaying the body to which those calling eyes belonged. The trembling, filthy mass seemed to be more ear than anything else. Its small body and thin legs were coated with muck, disguising the true color of its fur. "Tis a fox kit," the man explained, offering her the animal to hold. Edreina took the fragile looking creature carefully, cradling it in both hands. Out of the thick, clumsy hands, the little creature looked up at Edreina with such warm, fearful eyes. It made Edreina's heart hurt to see such fear in such a small creature. She had to save it. "How much?" She asked, before she could stop herself, blue eyes locked on the little creature, attempting to assure it of its safety. The man caressed his bare chin thoughtfully, a small smile on his lips as he realized that the woman was utterly reeking with unbridled compassion. Best customer, that. One that fell in love with his wares before a price was even named. "Five Gold-Mizas," the man said with a pseudo-kind smile. Without a word, Edreina fished out her coin-purse from its hiding place between her breasts. Cradling the creature against her side, Edreina counted out the coins and handed them to the man, attempting to ignore his satisfied smile. "What should I feed it?" It was this point at which Edreina realized that she knew nothing about the filthy creature. "It's young, so you'll have to hand feed it some bugs, scraps of meat, what have you. But it will be able to hunt for itself when it grows up." The man relaxed back in his seat, no longer concerned with the woman since she had already made it. "Good thing you bought it," he said to himself, shrugging. "Why is that?" Edreina was unable to hide her curiosity, fingers unconsciously stroking an unmatted patch of fur she hand found. "Look around. Do you see me selling any adult animals?" He laughed heartily to himself, stroking the newest looking garment on his body. It was striped like some sort of young cat... Edreina paled at the realization. "Why?" A flash of anger splotched her pale cheeks, making her narrowed eyes seem all the brighter. It was cruel, what he was doing. Her eyes flitted about as she waited for answer, feeling the painful future that lay before the rest of the animals, the ones who she had not truly noticed as individuals. The kittens packed tightly into a cage, the little creatures whose masks made them resemble bandits... Would they all be killed if they were not sold? "People don't want big animals. They want the cute fluffy little pets that they can show off and then toss aside when they grow up." It was said so calmly, said while stroking a puddle of defenseless puppies. Edreina needed to go. She needed to run and get away from here before she lost control of her mouth and said something she would regret. "I see," she bit, whirling in a flurry of red hair and blue skirts. When she returned to Razkar, huddling brown mass pressed against her chest, her face was still hard. Inside she was still fighting. She wanted to kill the man and set all the little creatures free. But that was idiotic. "Ready to go?" she asked. Glancing down, she began to cool off, seeing that the animal had ceased its quivering and was now nestled against her white shirt, dirtying it. But she did not care. It was safe now. If only she knew what it was...

ReceiptFox kit = 5 GM

[Razkar]

"How much do you think you'll need?"

"Oh... much."

Razkar watched as the female healer packed his refreshed and replenished healer's kit. The plain wooden box was a pitifully bereft sight when she opened it, and she'd tut-tutted her disappointment without fear of his savage appearance. That was when he decided he liked her.

"Bandages down to a sliver," she said, half under her breath as she went through the kit, "Salve's almost gone... thread the same, even the rubbing alcohol's down..." She looked up sharply and cocked an eyebrow. "You do know that's not for drinking, right?"

Razkar barked out a laugh and nodded. "Not that desperate for drunk."

"One would hope..." The healing woman pursed her lips, hands on hips, appraising and evaluating behind the table that made up much of her store. There was little free space available on it, much of the wood covered in salves, bandages, splints, operating tools, potions, tonics... and Razkar only recognized half of them. "You want everything filled back up?"

"Yes."

"Salves, bandages and the like?"

"Yes."

"A season's worth."

"Yes."

Just a beat of consideration: "Thirty-five."

"Twenty."

"Thirty."

"Twenty-five."

"Done."

And thus it came to pass that Razkar at least had some means to patch himself back up when his profession became more damaging than usual. He watches with interest as a quartet of little bottles are placed in the box, iodine and ammonia concoctions, by the smell of them. Stinky, true, but excellent for cauterizing wounds. A thick roll of gauze, next, a new roll of thread...

"And there y'go." She hands the box over and takes the handful of mizas as payment, grateful smile spreading over her face. "Pleasure doin' business."

"What is name, Mistress?"

"Helena, Myrian. And yours?"

The Myrian gave his usual half-bow of respectful introduction, precious healer's kit at his side. "Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, Mistress Helena."

"Just Helena, love. I'm no-one's bloody mistress."

Razkar just chuckled back and nodded, remembering that little titbit. "May ask question? Where is stall to find tools for tracking and hunting?"

"Ah, you'll want Vikran's place. Akalak boy." She said the words airily and Razkar found the smile staying in place. He knew well that Akalaks considered their "boys" to be the ag of most elderly humans, and yet this woman still used the term. "Just inside, far right, third pillar. You'll spot it, I bet."

"Thank you, Mis... ah, Helena."

"Aye. You, too, lad."

The Myrian turned back to Mrrko and packed away his replenished kit, just in time to find Edreina stomping back to him with a face like thunder. He frowned immediately, amused and impressed smile crumbling into something between anger and concern. A few of the meandering souls around them shuffled a little further away; one pickpocket decided that his hand would be best used elsewhere. He wanted to keep it attached to his wrist, after all.

"What is wrong?" He flicked a glance behind her at the menagerie she'd just returned from, but found nothing but a polite enough fellow giving him a brief wave. Dogs and cats and a plethora of other four-legged creatures capered around in the cages... what could have angered her so? "Did that man..."

Razkar's eyes snapped down. Something mewled at him and blinked eyes that took up half its head. He leaned down and sniffed it, an old habit from his childhood. Once you have their scent, his father said, you should remember it forever. He straightened up, looked at Edreina for a moment...

"What is dog's name?"

Reciept:Replacement Items For Healer's Kit: 25gm

[Edreina]

Edreina eyed Razkar curiously as he sniffed her new companion. Covered in filth as it was, Edreina silently wondered if he enjoyed ruining his nostrils. Even she had not yet brought the creature close enough to her face. "What is dog's name?" "It's not a dog," she replied, removing the creature from its nestling place, much to its wriggling discontent. Damn the thing had claws for such a youngling. "It is a fox kit. And I'm not naming it until I figure out whether it is a boy or a girl." She nodded and let the animal cuddle close to her once again. Something about the little ball of warmth showing such dependence upon the Svefra caused a new sort of flame to appear in her heart. The unknown species of fox had a home now... A home with Edreina. "Are you ready to go or do you have more errands?" She asked, following Razkar as he began to walk once more. Well... since you're here... Edreina began to look around for anything that might make the little kit feel more comfortable with her. In the noise and movement, it had begun to quiver again, earning gentle strokes of Edreina's fingers between its tiny shoulders. It's ok... she silently implored, You're ok...