Mind, Body and Sold (Nyxie, Ren / GM-Kuvarakh)

[Kuvarakh]

20th of Winter, 513 The clear night sky above the Majestic mountains of Kalea stood in stark contrast to the seedy intent of the two men making their way through the streets of Alvadas. Kirballis Sherrik carried the ring with the needle and Verek Tarndahl carried the plot. Neither man was skilled in much beyond deceit and villainy. Scars from lost fights displayed the measure of their prowess and courage. Nervous, bloodshot glances, from side to side, proclaimed their standing in the community. They did not care to be up in the city "proper", among decent folks. But it was a necessary risk. Their savings were running low, and even immediate success in their latest venture would not bring them actual payment for nearly a full season. Too many of the city's relatively honest citizens had already had run-ins with the pair. And while they were not outright killers, they would not hesitate if it would bring them a few mizas without fear of prosecution. But they'd been proven unreliable in most of the criminal endeavors they'd been hired for. Their sloppy work had left them with nearly as many enemies among the city's unsavory element as it had among the lawful. It had only been dumb luck (the only kind they were likely to enjoy) that they had avoided reprisals up til now. But, as a result, they needed to keep their newest effort out of the city streets. But that was where their most valuable targets would be found. There were plenty of women in the Alvadas Underground. But they were uniformly less healthy and less attractive than those that spent their time in the sun and wind above. And while this was not an absolute necessity, it would certainly bring more money. They needed attractive women. They needed fertile women. But as much as that, they needed newly arrived women. Women that would not be likely to know about them or recognize them. But they could not go out in the open to grab them off the street. They needed to get them to come to them. Fortunately, they had one advantage. Verek was a Hypnotist. Ionu's random shuffling of the streets occasionally foiled their designs, but this night everything was falling into place. The Stallion's Rear Tavern had been positioned only a couple of blocks from one of the entryways to The Streets Below. With Kirballis waiting a few chimes to follow, Verek went into the tavern to find a victim or two. OOCOkay, no great active posts needed, Just an intro to your characters going to the tavern. If you want to meet or stay strangers, it's all good. If you want to dance or pick pockets, that too, is cool.

[Renate Winterflame]

Renate had arrived at the door to the Stallion's Rear upwards of an hour ago. She had stopped at the bizarre for some bits and spices which she had intended for a stew, but it was near hopeless trying to get home in any reasonable amount of time. After her house key turned her around for the third time, she had given up and retired to the nearest public establishment. She offered to cook them something, but they didn't have a stove. She offered to do a dance to liven up the place, but the bartender only muttered something about soliciting and asked if she wanted something to drink. So she was left at the bar, bored and with a glass of wine that she didn't particularly like. She twirled its stem between her fingers as she looked over the tavern's dark little room, hoping for something resembling company before she found the energy to find her way home again. When no one stuck out at first glance, she retrieved a small bread loaf that she had bought earlier and set it on the table like bait. The Vantha girl was probably an ideal specimen for the Sherrik-Tarndahl project. She was thin from almost a decade of undernourishment, but a year on her own had fattened her up and made her resemble healthy. Her dark hair, with its violet sheen, and her rose-colored eyes were a lucrative novelty in many a slave market. She knew too well the value of her own body; in fact, the secret hidden behind her long hair was a Kenashern slave brand on her neck. What she did not know was how to defend herself, if they ever came looking for her, or how to know when they were looking. She had grown to trust the city and its tricks to protect her. Renate had always been a little too optimistic. In her boredom she had taken a chunk of bread in her hands. Not quite hungry, she split it in half and tossed one piece back, then she tore that piece in half again to make a fourth of a piece. Following her own pattern she managed to make an eighth and a sixteenth, but then it was too small to successfully divide. She did not know the number of the next division, anyway. Popping the tiny piece onto her tongue, Renate turned toward a shadow that had entered her periphery. There she saw a woman with bright red hair, hardly the same as Ren's but equally unusual. Attracted to their mutual uniqueness, the Vantha tried to catch the stranger's eye before she offered a piece of her shredded snack. "Want some?"

[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

Nyxie stood amongst dark shadows of buildings on either side of her. The only light came from Leth’s silvery gaze. She sighed.

Oh, Ionu. You slay me, you really do.

A bit frustrated by the streets of Alvadas, Nyxie kicked the ground with the heel of her foot. She’d been walking for over a bell now, with no sign of the door she was looking for. A couple Alvads told her to take a right, and then a left after the multicolored glass-paned wall, but their directions oddly led her back to where she started.

There was no point in standing around. Nyxie kept walking, her eyes scanning the walls. It was easier when the door appeared so close to the ports. The first time she found it, Nyxie was overjoyed. She went inside almost every night, trying to perfect her skills. The captain was so proud of his daughter’s sudden increase in stolen loot, not caring where it came from. If he knew that she’d gotten it from within the city walls, her father would surely be furious. He’d always warned Nyxie of the dangers in the city of illusions; but his cautionary tales of wonder only increased her desire to experience it all for herself.

In the distance, Nyxie could see a few men and women entering through a doorway that seemed wedged between two buildings. This must be it. She walked towards the black, windowless door and smiled. Yes, by the blessed spirit of Ionu, she’d found it! Tracing the silvered paint with her fingers, she noticed how the chipping varnish on the wood starkly contrasted the fresh sign---The Stallion’s Rear.

Nyxie opened the door and quickly surveyed the room, searching for a target. A man about her size stood a few steps in front of her, looking frail and shy, about to leave the tavern. Perfect. She took out her coin purse and shuffled through it while walking toward the bar, then tripped over the man’s boot---

“Oh, my goodness! I am terribly sorry, sir,” Nyxie was now on the floor, trying to pick up the fallen mizas. The man crouched down next to her,

“No, it’s alright; here, let me help you” He smiled at the seemingly clumsy girl, noticing the slight grimace on her face “Are you hurt, miss?” Nyxie feigned a sheepish grin,

“My arm, I think it’s scratched” She moved her left arm around in front of his face, to make it seem like she was looking for a mark
“Are you sure? Let me see” While the man’s attention was drawn to the scrapes on her left, a simple sleight of hand allowed Nyxie to grab a small coin bag tied to his belt with her right. She quickly hid the bag underneath her cloak, tucking it within her clothing.

“It’s fine sir, I think I’ll be alright. Thank you, kindly.” Nyxie gave the man a grateful smile, and stood back up.

“Not a problem, m’lady. Be sure to take care of that arm when you get home. Enjoy your night.” He waved goodbye to Nyxie and headed out the door.

Pleased with how smoothly the ordeal went, Nyxie ordered herself a lager to celebrate. The bartender poured her the drink in a quaint wooden mug. When she turned around to find a seat, Nyxie caught the eye of a stranger. The woman’s elegance stuck out among the others in the tavern; she was older than Nyxie, with unusually colored eyes and long, dark hair. For a moment, she was too mesmerized to realize that the strange lady was asking her a question. Several ticks passed by before she answered,

“Sure, thanks~” Nyxie grinned. “Who would refuse free food?” She pulled out a chair and sat across from the woman, before helping herself to the pieces of bread on the table. It was a satisfying snack when paired with a sip from her mug.

“I’m Nyxie. Nyxie Nadira Draer. I must say, your eyes are lovely. How are you doing this fine evening?”

[Kuvarakh]

Verek was very focused on the doorway of any establishment on the surface streets when he was inside it. Always watching for people that might seek to satisfy any one of a dozen grudges circling around town. He saw the slick bit of larceny perpetrated by the red-headed girl as she "accidentally" collided with a departing patron. 'The fool deserved it!' he sneered to himself. Any time anyone bumped into him, even a petching priest of Ionu, the first thing he did was check his coin purse and all other valuables he may be carrying. She would be easy to lure below, a simple tale of stolen loot, hidden behind simple locks. The kind that the dishonest holder would be loathe to pursue though legal avenues. She struck him as the adventurous type, not so inhibited by the strictures of legal propriety. 'Weren't all Svefra that way?' If worse came to worst, he could threaten to turn her in for the theft he'd just witnessed. No, she would be no problem. Less simple would be the one he'd originally had his eye on. The dark haired one with the dancer's gait and the "rainbow" eyes of a Vantha. She seemed kindly, which would make things difficult, unless she was trusting as well. He thought he would be hard pressed to convince her to be in on anything of questionable legality. He needed to hint at a case of injustice, a miscarriage of the law. An idea began to form in his head. He took a bit of powder from a packet and rolled just a dusting into his lower eyelids. Soon his eyes showed the red of desperate tears. Then he went into his act. Subtle at first, just a bit of a hovering presence near their table, he began feigning a quiet search around the room, growing ever more desperate, repeatedly looking back at the table where the two girls sat. He made a point of making eye contact and then turning away, but with a hint of hesitancy and despair "Where is it? It's got to be here!" he whimpered to himself, but loudly enough to be heard by the two young women. "God's mercy, It can't be...he couldn't!...A man of the LAW, yet...The thief!...No, Gods teeth, what will I do?...My Home...All my savings...We'll be ruined!" With practiced dramatic flair, he made as if he was meaning to speak only to himself. But he made sure the girls could make out what he was saying. And he frequently let himself be seen showing interest in their table, always turning away as if he did not have the courage to approach them. If they chose to approach him, he would make his bid to trick them, if not he would quickly reach the point of "finding the courage" to approach them.

[Renate Winterflame]

The Vantha replied to the stranger's gratitude with a silent nod, smiling into a mutual greeting. "Renate. Erm, Renate Winterflame." The woman had introduced her full name; it seemed only polite to give her own, despite how distant or irrelevant her heritage had become. Her smile faltered, but the thought was not long enough to manifest in her eyes. Instead she lifted her hand to her face and gave an elaborate shrug. "Thank you. I just got them done!" While she appreciated beauty whenever she found it, Ren was somewhat ashamed of her own. Even though she had admired Nyxie's hair in the privacy of her mind, it left a strange taste in her mouth to accept the compliment. So she peppered it with jokes and fried it in a quick dismissal, reaching for the scraps of bread between them. But where she had hoped to fill the awkwardness of a first acquaintance with a bit of idle movement, her hand stopped before she could touch it. There it hovered as she looked over Nyxie Nadira Draer's shoulder at the growing scene behind her. Though this former slave was mostly naïve to the likes of trickery and subterfuge, she was rather intuitive as to the social nature of things. She peered carefully at the man and the people around them, all suspects in their own right, while remaining completely oblivious to Nyxie's knack for thievery. It seemed, perhaps, a little too peculiar that such a victim would admit to such a terrible loss in this dark, public place, but Renate showed no less pity for him. Golden curiosity smoked at the edges of her irises as she nodded in his direction, encouraging Nyxie to look if she hadn't already. "Poor man," she grieved, chuckling only a little at the accidental pun. "Do you think we should--" Her gaze met with his for a moment, and she was interrupted by the subsequent attempt to look away. She itched to rise and approach him, if only to discover the details of his plight, but it was common courtesy not to intrude on his misery with questions. (And she certainly did not want to give up what money she had--an inevitability it seemed, in cases like these.) So instead she shifted consciously in her seat, sipping at her wine. "It's none of my business." And despite that, Ren would be the second to rise should another so rudely break the ice before her.

[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

Nyxie raised an eyebrow and smiled awkwardly at the lady’s peculiar remark. She wasn’t quite sure of how a Human could get their eyes ‘done’ to look so unique. “Nice to meet you, Renate. How’d you do it?” Nyxie put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, intent on hearing more about Renate’s eyes.

The young Svefran was clearly oblivious to the fact that Ren was joking, although she was definitely aware of the lady’s discomfort with compliments. Nyxie couldn’t understand why; admiration could only come naturally around such a feminine beauty. Was Renate not aware of her obvious attractiveness? Resolving to learn more about this woman, Nyxie waited for a reply. She ignored the hustle and bustle around her, since the others in this tavern held no interest to her.

Watching Ren’s gaze shift, Nyxie noticed the lady’s eyes changing colour. What an incredible ability; how does she do that? The Svefran’s attention was quickly diverted to the mutterings behind them, when Ren nodded in his direction,

“Poor man. I wonder if we should---“

Turning around, Nyxie only managed to hear the last bits of his whining remarks,

“My home… All my savings… We’ll be ruined!”

A man with money issues. Nyxie sighed, then leaned back on her chair. Feeling a tad inebriated, she decided to stir up some ‘fun’. Nyx turned to Ren and smirked,

“You’re right, it really doesn’t seem like any of our business.” Putting on a mockingly pitying tone, she gestured towards him, “But the poor man looks so desperate! Surely we could try to ease his pain, no?” She turned again to face the miserable-looking bloke,

“Hey, you there!” Nyxie sneered at him. “Yes, the shyke being a crybaby – get over here. Take a seat! Drink a bit o’ this and shut-up, will ya?” Nyxie offered him a sip from her mug, inviting the man to approach them. “Talk to us once you’ve calmed down a little. Tears from a grown man are embarrassing.”

Should he choose to tell the ladies of his misfortune, the man would find Nyxie to be listening actively, noting any signs of dishonesty. Of course, the needs of this man were only second to Nyxie’s desire to toy with his emotions, for the pure sake of twisted fun. But if he happens to convincingly come across as being truly ill-fated, then Nyx would happily be willing to help. Besides, she never needed the money she pinched – larceny was simply an addiction; a means to a thrill so powerful and so comforting. It’d be simple (and amusing) to hand the man a bag full of stolen mizas, should he require any form of compensation.

Let’s hope that Nyxie hasn’t unintentionally gotten herself into any trouble.

He’s harmless, I’ll be fine~

[Kuvarakh]

The Svefra girl nearly made Verek lose his focus with her insulting invitation. But he shucked aside his anger with the satisfaction that she was so brazen. It spoke of overconfidence. He allowed a look of desperate hope to cross his features and came cringing to the table. "I'm sorry ladies, I did not realize I was being overheard. I...I can't pay you for your offer," he said in a shaken voice as he took more than just a sip from the girl's mug. He hid the look of satisfied mischief as the girl looked at how little remained in her mug. 'That will get her all the more eager to cheat ME!' he thought to himself, thinking a slight adjustment to his original tactic would be effective. As he spoke, he saw Kirby peek through the tavern door, and repositioned his foot beneath the table to signal that the Svefra would be the target. Kirby nodded and slipped away. Verek's exaggerated gestures and bursts of emotion made it doubtful the girls would have noticed Kirby. He asked the girls if they had noticed a man lurking outside the tavern a few chimes ago. He gave a description that matched Kirby. He laid out his sad story of his foolish trust of a member of the Womiyu with arranging his passage on a soon-to-be-departing vessel. He lamented how naive he'd been to think that such a sum of mizas wouldn't tempt even a law enforcer to make a run with the wealth of three families. He gave his excuse as having gotten tired of the endless shifting of properties in this city and having wished to leave it behind. His circle of friends and families had agreed and they'd decided to leave together. He speculated in feigned humility that perhaps Ionu had overheard him and taken insult. He said that he was going to go to the Temple to pray for guidance. He said he would need it to find his way below the streets, where the Womiyu's headquarters are located. He remarked offhand how the man probably wouldn't take stolen money there, but probably some other secret place down there. He suddenly jerked with a "Agh" and brought a hand to the eye closest to Renate. He then turned to her,"I think I have something in my eye. Would you look and see if there's anything in there?" This was an old tactic for him, a precursor to hypnotism. If the Vantha looked him directly in the eye, it would be a very quick and easy task to overlay his djed upon her thoughts and impress upon her that she needed to stay with her friend. Whether this worked or not, he would then excuse himself, offering his name as Joren Fannery, sigh heavily, wish the girls well as he bid them goodbye and restate his intent to go to the Temple. He then took his leave. A few chimes later, Kirby appeared at the door, looked around cautiously and then entered the tavern. He knew the girls had been given his description as the thief. He walked to the bar, seeming to trip on a loose floor plank and slapped his hand with the poisoned needle on Nyxie's shoulder as he regained his balance. It was a blend of the drug, 'Poke' and the poison 'Bloodroot'. The euphoric well-being of one offsetting the weakness of the other, leaving only the confused, exhilarated high. This made any victims inclined to take risks without thinking them through very well. By the time they got themselves into trouble, the high of the drug wore off, and the weakness of the poison lingered to make them easy targets. He pulled his hand away swiftly, "Ouch! Whoa, I'm terribly sorry. Did you get a shock as well, Miss?" he said to Nyxie as an explanation for any little pain she may have felt. He then walked up to the bar and said to the bartender, "Gods, I thought Joren would never leave. Well, I may not be back, mate. I'm onto a real strike. I'll take that key back, and good luck to you." The barkeep reached below the bar and brought out a key. Kirby took it, smiling widely, if not kindly, and stepped out the door of the tavern, turning left.

[Renate Winterflame]

If Renate Winterflame was anything, it certainly wasn't patient. She had her reservations, of course; one of the few things that could keep her from what she wanted was the promise of offending someone. But Joren was gone, and the man who had offended him had appeared and disappeared soon after. She met Kirby's eye just before he left. She wasn't afraid of eyes, but she had since learned how others could be off-put by hers. A good glare followed him out, wrought with the sort of vigilant animosity which would be expected from friends of enemies. She stared at the door after him, stories of his victim's desperation swimming around her head. "We should—" She began, in the mere moment after he had left. "I don't know. We should—" Her mind spun with the thrill of the story, ripe as it was for the living and the subsequent telling. She touched Nyxie's shoulder and rose to stand, but then she sat again. The Svefra seemed interested in Joren, despite how thoroughly rude she had been to him. And Ren did not want to lose the escaping villain, if only to see what he was up to but even to confront him about the whole ordeal. But neither did she want to leave Nyxie's own curiosities in the dust. Hesitating, she gaged her acquaintance's interest in her unspoken idea. "Didn't he look like the man Joren described?" Alas, she was not patient enough for the answer. Her face lit up as her thoughts finally found form on her tongue. "We should go after him. Wouldn't that be fun?" An idea poured forth without a second beat. "I have, well I have this thing." It was peculiar to her to feel so attached to this woman, who was little more than a stranger at this point, but she reasoned that it would be foolish to follow the strange man alone. If she were to confront him, to tell him what harm he had done, she did not want to suffer the inevitable retaliation that grows from such an accusation. It only figured that Nyxie felt the same misgivings. Her fingers ran over her mark, a six-pointed snowflake that splayed elaborately over her upper arm. "It is divine. It will protect us, so you don't even have to be afraid. What do you say?"

[Nyxie Nadira Draer]

Nyxie strained to make a face of pity as the shyke told his story. In truth, she couldn’t care less. The man didn’t deserve to keep his money if he wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to protect it. He lamented his naivety when he should really be lamenting his utter stupidity; how could others be so blind to the splendor of Alvadas? Sure, Nyxie wasn’t a resident here, and it is certainly difficult to find your way around ⎯ but that’s the beauty of it. Alvadas should be celebrated for its ability to defy your expectations of reality; it shouldn’t be shunned for it. Nyxie waved goodbye to Joren, feeling only contempt for him. Well, she was also awfully annoyed with having nothing left to drink.

It seemed obvious to Nyxie that Ren was sympathizing with Joren’s victimization. “We should⎯” murmured Ren. Nyx gave her a questioning look, wondering if this lady was foolish enough to feel like there was any way that she could help that man. The Svefra was about to shrug it off when something suddenly struck her shoulder,

“What the petch⎯” she barked.
“Whoa, I'm terribly sorry. Did you get a shock as well, Miss?" A man who matched Joren’s description now walked towards the bar without any further acknowledgement. Confused as to what just happened, Nyxie sat in her chair, stunned and silent. An unexplainable fit of passion started to bubble inside of her. Thoughts swirled in her mind, making her feel almost dizzy. Nyx didn’t even realize that the man had left when Ren started speaking to her,

"We should go after him. Wouldn't that be fun?" Huh. Fun. Yes… the thought of following the petchin’ idiot now seemed like an exciting idea. A smirk formed on Nyxie’s face when she tried to think about the possible risks ⎯ it wouldn’t be too hard for her to get out of trouble, so why not?

Before Nyxie could affirm her desire to follow the man, Ren blurted out something that surprised her. It seemed that the lady had a mark from one of the gods, a mark that she didn’t recognize. It clearly wasn’t from Laviku or Ionu, the only two gifts that Nyx knew about. What did she mean by saying that it would protect them? She raised her eyebrows, and then grinned at her new ally.

“Alright, let’s go.” Nyxie chuckled as she nodded her head towards the door. “That petcher just messed with the wrong Svefra.”

Pushing chairs and patrons out of the way, Nyx headed for the exit. A vacant table on her left caught her attention. There were two nearly empty bottles there; trash that no one seemed to care about. Still thirsty for alcohol, Nyxie swiped them both and handed one to Ren.

They stormed out the door together, turning left when they caught a glimpse of Jorin’s enemy going around a corner. Nyxie stopped. Her eyes hardened. She brought the bottle to her lips and took the last swig of ale. Exhilarating energy seeped through her entire body. She was ready.

“Ren. We need to run to catch up to him.” Holding the neck of the bottle with her right, Nyxie started to jog. She turned her head to smile at the older woman,

“Come on!”

[Kuvarakh]

Kirby did not once look back as he strolled along the back streets. He did not hurry. In fact, if anything, he was easy to follow. Every time he took a turn, he would continue on straight slowly and pause before taking another turn. But this pattern would probably not be noticeable to anyone that did not possess a heightened level of caution as it only happened a few times before he reached a seemingly dead end alley. Was it Ionu's playfulness, or some other design that placed a stout doorway there? There was a stone wall at the end of the alley, with neither shop nor home to the sides. The wall appeared to be worked stone, but only to the extent of looking rough hewn by tools, rather than finely crafted or mortared. The narrow alley was walled in by high sides, reaching well over twenty feet in height. There would only be a short time of day where the sun would warm the stones of the walkway. Few would have any reason would have cause to even enter this alley, let alone linger before the steel-banded hardwood door. And this door could not be seen until one reached the end of the alley, as it was built into the side, not the end. Kirby pulled the key from his belt and slipped it in the lock. He stretched and unhurriedly returned the key to his belt before opening the door and passing through. Very little light shone into the alley from the open door, but what light there was had a slight red sheen to it, though it could have simply been the color of the wood used on the door. If the girls had followed him, they would realize that though Kirby took his time, they would not be able to approach in stealth before he passed out of sight. And if they hurried, the knife, revealed on his belt as he fumbled with the key, would give them cause to invent a very good reason for an action that might otherwise be considered aggressive. Of course, there was always the option of waiting and then trying to enter. But without a key, or a set of thieves' tools, how would anyone enter? Of course, there could always be the chance of some sort of impromptu tool, or even an emergency key left hidden by someone else. Or some other means of gaining entry...