Completed A City's Pulse

[Kit Rowan]

Day 8, Summer, 513 AV Every city has a pulse and a heart. Whet had told her once. Some are full of generosity and joy, and it bleeds down to their people. These are good places to perform, where people don't gotta worry about the next day, where they know they can afford to be generous. Syliras and Zeltiva, now these are generous cities. But you'll find some, like Sunberth and Ravok, whose hearts are so withered and black that their own people can barely live, and there's no generosity to be found there. Whet had a way with sweeping, dramatic generalizations, but now Kit knew for certain that it betrayed his ignorance. The city of the god of Chaos and Evil was as prosperous a civilization as Kit had ever seen. The Cripple had let her go as promised, to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Kit made her way down the canals, determined to find and explore the city, to get a thumb on its pulse. People stopped and talked in the streets with smiles on their faces. They threw around smiles like copper pieces. Mostly they pretended Kit wasn't here, but a few of the other slaves spared a wave, and Kit returned the favor. The city was clustered and small, a big floating raft in Kit's guesstimate. Sometimes she could feel the canals she walked moving under her feet! Every building was as little as it could get away with, and they clustered together in claustrophobic alleys and thin canal-roads. Many buildings had at least two floors, maybe three, sometimes more. Kit supposed it made sense. When building out meant building the very foundations from scratch and floating them on top of the water, it must have been tempting to condense everything. To build as far up and as close as they could. Its architecture was strange and irregular. Sometimes whole blocks were lashed together by thick rope that hung taut between them, while others simply sat in the water, anchored in place by something she couldn't see. Her mind went into overdrive, finding strange paths to follow over the rooftops; there were many. Kit approved. Had she not been enslaved by Ravok, she might have even liked it. Strange thought, that. But as it was, Kit mostly felt nervous. She bit down on her lip and wrapped arms around her sides and stared at the city like it was going to rise up and bite her. This was the city of Rhysol. The weather was pleasant. The people were good and satisfied. The heart of the city was healthy and full. Where was the evil, the betrayal, the chaos? If slavery was evil, then it was a slow, calculated evil. Kit remembered, though the Cripple had chosen to punish her often, it had never been physical. He had never raised a hand against her in any place that might be seen, that might cause a limp or a stagger. The slaves around her looked poised. They looked in control. Some of them even looked happy. Was that where Rhysol's evil waited, then? Like the torment of its slaves, in the dark corners and private places, in ways that wouldn't leave a mark? It was a beautiful city. With everything arrayed out in front of her Kit could not help but realize it. A beautiful city. Was it built on pain behind closed doors? Was that the sort of evil that Rhysol really was? Kit hugged herself to hide her shudder and wondered what was happening that she couldn't see.

[Kit Rowan]

Kit turned a corner on a canal and saw a crowd gathered around a young man with passion burning in his eyes, standing in front of a piece of graffiti, a white sun rising over a horizon. "The Rising Dawn say that Rhysol is chaos, that he is disorder! That to consort with him is death!" Angry murmurs in the crowd, scowls. Kit felt more potential for violence there than she had ever found in Ravok before. Her first instinct was get closer. She marched down the canals and walked to the very edge, leaning out over the end as the boy pumped his hands into the air. "I say NO!" The boy pulled a brush from a bucket of paint and painted a dark line over the graffiti. Denied the symbol, denied its message. Now that the crowd understood what he was doing, they were cheering him on. "Glory to Ravok!" "Hail Rhysol! " "Praise his Voice!" He raised his hands in the air, brush in one hand. "They say we should turn to Sylir! But Sylir is long since dead! That we should turn to Tyveth, to Dira, to Caiyha! But these callous gods leave their followers to wither away without them. My god protects me! He is chaos? He bars chaos from my house! He is betrayal? He safeguards me against hidden knives! Evil? If being called evil is the price to pay for surviving in this broken world, then I will gladly pay!" The crowd cheered. Kit's face was very neutral. She ran a hand through her hair, decided she'd heard enough and moved onward.

[Kit Rowan]

Where to perform though? Whet had told her that spare change was her best friend. Wherever she went, it had to be somewhere the people had a lot of money on hand. Near a market, maybe. That would make sense. She found someone else with a brand on their hand aside and asked for directions. "Where do people buy food?" "You'll find it in the merchant's ring. Tip a Ravosala and tell him where you need to go, yeah?" They said. The slave began to march away before Kit grabbed their shoulder and insisted more strongly; "Where?" They pointed in a direction over the canals and Kit let them go. Kit crossed her arms and made a face. The cripple hadn't allowed her any money to get by on the canals today. She needed another way across. Kit peered of the edge, into the dark, tranquil waters and at the canal. Time to test her theory. Her mind drew a line up the side of the buildings and over the canopy of binding ropes. She walked around the canals, peering sideways into the alleys until she found a low-lipped roof and a pile of barrels filled with who-knew-what. Kit slipped down the alley and pulled on the barrel, leaning back and twisting its top, trying to move it a little further from the wall. Kit made a soft, frustrated sound, straining to move it. It shifted against her, inch by slow inch, until at last she had it where she needed it. Kit breathed out through her teeth and let the barrel fall back into its natural position. She climbed on top and stared up at the lip of the roof. She bent her legs and jumped, the barrel thankfully solid beneath her feet and grabbed hold of the ledge. It had been too long since she played the part of the urban explorer. Her arms had forgotten their duties in it. Kit growled and pulled, but it wasn't enough. Her feet flailed beneath her until they found purchase against the wall. She pushed with them and pulled with her hands, almost made it, fell limp and useless. She tried again, as her fingers started to slip . . . Kit pitched herself over the lip of the roof and lay on top of its gently sloping surface, chest heaving. "Gods," she whispered, and she felt the smile crawl across her face as giddy joy bubble in her midsection. KIt pulled her way to the top and let her mind draw lines across the rooftops of Ravok, found a thick rope tethered across the canal between two tall roofs. Kit had been right about moving from rooftop to rooftop. The buildings were squeezed so close together that it seemed to her a child could bridge the gap with a hop in the right places. Would the residents below mind the pitter-patter of her feet on their roofs? Best not stick around to find out. The last jump was a bit of a dozy; it was higher than the roof Kit was jumping from by quite a way. She made the leap regardless, but no, she hadn't gone high enough! Her stomach slammed against the edge of the roof and she began to fall; Kit saw herself sprawled out in the alley below, head cracked open and bleeding, dead a slave in a city far from home. Panicked hands caught the edge of the roof, but it was too far from the wall for Kit to find purchase with her legs against it. She looked down and vertigo seized her imagination. How her arms burned! They begged Kit to let go, let go, let go, but she demanded they work. Demanded they work with all their power for her. For a long, panicked instant Kit was sure that her arms would fail her. She couldn't pull herself up. She tried again, forced one elbow over the side, the other, used them as anchors to lift her leg over the side . . . Then Kit was over, her arms screaming as her body shook, glad to be alive. It was these moments that always made her childhood of running with street urchins worthwhile. Time to move, Kit thought, though her body demanded rest. She slowly scaled the side till she reached the top of the roof, stood precariously on its tip and held her hands out for balance. Kit walked across the top, barely swaying, and stepped onto the thick rope that had been her first goal. As long as she kept her pace steady and slow, she would make it. But one mistake could send her tumbling into the drink! But she did not make a mistake today. Kit made it to the other end and onto another rooftop, and continued her expedition to the Merchant's Ring across the high places of Ravok.

[Kit Rowan]

Why food? Why not camp outside a tailor's shop, outside a cobbler's place? Cause food didn't last. People could mend their own clothes, they could manage without new-cobbled shoes; but food was always a pressing need. They would pass there most often, routinely, spot her and get to know her and maybe come to like her tumbling. Kit had little reason to think Ravok would be different. She offered a prayer to Ionu she'd read her audience right; her first day needed to be a good one. After Kit had made her own unorthodox way across Ravok for a while she thought she might have found it. She saw marked signs in big, eyecatching letters; Gemmei's Engravings, The Spicy Lass, The Defiled Blade . . . The name for the place was apt. The Merchant's Ring was a whole bundle of stores, all strung out in a circle, with four exits, and inside Kit saw what she could only assume was the People's Market. Next to the Bizarre it wasn't much, but Kit supposed that if she tried to measure everything she ever saw against illusions more grand than the poor sods would ever see she'd best grow used to disappointment. Kit crouched on a roof and waited for the crowds along the outer rim to thin a little. She slipped from the lowest part of the roof and landed in a crouch, dusted herself off. Business. Right. Kit shook her head and bit down on the bottom of her lip. Where was the best place to perform? Where . . . ? Kit marched around the ring; the outside edges were empty enough, she supposed, though Kit would prefer something closer to the People's Market itself. By one of the four entrances, maybe? Kit examined them close, wandering with purpose along its edge and stopping to look over the crowds as they bullied each other to find their way in and out. If there had been only one entrance it would have been best, but maybe if she set up close to the wall there. The only issue Kit could think of is if the crowds got big enough to congest traffic. The last thing Kit wanted was to get the merchants on her bad side. Oh well. If that became a problem she could set up in a quieter place. With luck, the people who saw her would care enough to look and find her back around the edge of the Ring. One could always hope. Kit had a location figured out . . . for the morning.

[Kit Rowan]

But Kit didn't search for her other locations, at least not right away. For a little longer wandered with another goal in mind. In some ways, she almost wished that Whet had been right about Ravok. It would have made her life harder, sure. Chances were you couldn't busk safely in a city like that, for fear of someone liking the look of you and deciding to have his own way. But Kit imagined that there were hidden places in cities like that too, where no one bothered to check. Abandoned things, ruined things . . . Places to hide quietly away . . . Perhaps she could find a tavern, erase her slave brand and rent out room? She could play with the structure of her face, maybe change the color of her hair . . . There would be no way to connect the acrobat slave and the girl renting out a room. There was a thought worth nurturing. A little asking around directed Kit toward two places; The Silver Sliver tavern, which Kit did not trust, if only because some visitor lounging in the common room might connect the dot between her voice and the voice of the performer who pleaded for their coins by the canals. Tarsin's Boarding House seemed more promising, more distant. Less likely to ask prying questions. If she could get enough money in her performance to get started, she could afford to abandon the Cripple's shelter entirely. Once she did, she could wear the illusion of a strange girl, and the Cripple would have no hope of ever finding her. It was a good plan, a sensible plan, but still a little voice in the back of her head whispered; You are alone, and no one will save you. "Shut up," Kit whispered, shaking her head vigorously. Now wouldn't be the time; she'd no money, not even enough to rent anything. But as soon as she began pulling in mizas for her performances, Kit knew that would change. And then her mischief against 'Master' Song could begin. But before then, she had other stages to find.

[Verilian]

. . Thread Award . . Kit Rowan +3 Observation +2 Body Building +2 Climbing You Question My Logic? : So, I would have given you acrobatics for some of the rooftop stuff, but you didn't really describe any of it. You explained in detail the struggle of climbing, and moving the barrel.. but then when it came to the balancing act across the rope, you skipped over that. I can only award something if you describe actually doing that. However, if you feel I missed anything, feel free to PM me. Lores: The Pulse of Ravok, The People's Belief in Rhysol, A hint of Rising Dawn, The Rooftops of Ravok, Planning a Location to Perform, Location of the Merchants Ring Notes: Another good thread, and I really liked your portrayal of the people's reaction to the Rising Dawn symbol on the wall. Great job, and keep writing! Notice As per the request of the Founders, threads cannot be graded unless your CS is up to date. This means you need to add threads to your thread list when you make new threads, keep your skills up to date, ledger, living expenses, ect. If you aren't up to date, you'll get a PM from me before i grade your thread. If you are up to date, disregard this notice.