Closed Follow Your Nose

United through food. [Kaie]

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Follow Your Nose

Postby Noven on March 7th, 2014, 2:33 am

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Spring, Day 7, 514AV

The time had finally come. Both thrilling and depressing all at once, the end of Leftover Days was here at last. Outside of the kitchen, an army of hungry, fidgety, and excitable orphans filled the air with ceaseless chatter, debating amongst themselves what the cook had in store for them that evening.

No, the evening. Because they sure as shyke weren't getting another meal this fine for at least three more seasons.

"I hope it's Poteesy soup," a round faced boy sighed, spoon and fork held ready in each of his grubby hands.

Thomas, the dark eyed and blunt mouthed trouble maker beside him, snorted. "Don't be stupid, Loy. We can have that anytime. 'S not everyday we get a New Year's feast." Loy frowned in annoyance, but Thomas paid him no mind. He swung his skinny legs back and forth, twirling about a chewed up looking fork on an even more chewed up looking plate. "I 'ope luver boy in there doesn't petch this up."

"I HEARD THAT!" Nov bellowed from the kitchen, startling the kid so hard he yelped as his knees hit the underside of the long, wooden table. Loy smirked, stifling a giggle, and commenced fantasizing about delectable soup.

Empty night, Nov cursed as he toiled away at his duties. His knife hit the cutting board with violent force. How was it that the whole town seemed to know about him and Mae? He'd stayed the night once. He didn't even know what the red headed Isur was up to these days. And, yet, there were no shortages of quips to be thrown his way.

Out in the mess hall, the runts were still at it. "Serves you right," Mira huffed from across the table. She raised an eyebrow as she tapped her spoon against her cheek. Chocolate hair, eyes, and skin, with a smile darling enough to warm the blackest of hearts, but not a single sweet bone could be found in that conniving little wildling's body.

Thomas threw down his fork and sneered. "Ya only say that 'cause yer in luv with the petcher."

"I'm his protege, moron. If you even know what that means."

The scrawny boy threw up his hands and feigned the most high-pitched, obnoxious voice he could muster. "Ohh, thank ye so much Mister Big, Strong, 'n Handsome for savin' me life! 'Ow can I ev'r repay this debt? I'm too young fer the likes of you, but maybe in ten years, I can have yer bab--"

Thomas screamed as a heavy, pewter plate slammed into the front of his face without warning. The other orphans began pounding their fists and chanting as Mira raised the dinnerware for a second blow, her small figure silhouetted against Syna's sinking rays as she stood there, right on top of the table, looking for all intents and purposes like she was ready to murder the boy. Five ticks later Nov was looming over them both, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed with irritation as he held Mira's slippery little wrist in one hand and her plate in the other. The she-devil was squirming in his grasp, clearly not done wreaking whatever righteous indignation she had left against her wide eyed, bloody nosed compatriot.

"Enough," the cook spat, glaring at Amira before dropping her wrist and slamming her plate down in its proper place. The girl sniffed, then strode off the table to plop glumly back into her seat. "Thomas," he sighed, tilting back the kid's head with a rough jerk to check the bleeding. "When will you learn to keep that nasty mouth of yours shut around your boss, eh?"

Thomas sputtered something. Mira grinned. "Stop interrupting me, or you're all going hungry tonight," Nov warned, then stormed back to his post. Ungrateful little wretches. Here he was, dutifully trying to make them the best dish he'd ever attempted. Chicken kabobs, complete with potatoes, peppers, onions, and tomatoes, and a hot cream broth to accompany it. And what thanks did he get?

A bloodied plate and banged up orphan, that's what. Krysus, Mira, when are you ever going to act even just a wee bit lady like?

Nov shook his head and turned over a few more of the kabobs, stirring the soup now and then to make sure nothing stuck to the bottom of the giant pot. He sprinkled a bit of zest and seasoning over the grilled meat and veggies, then tossed the finished ones aside to heat up new ones. The smell was making even him salivate, and the cook hummed off-tunely to himself as everything boiled and sizzled.

Mm, mm, mm. They were going to eat good tonight.


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Follow Your Nose

Postby Kaie on March 10th, 2014, 8:03 pm

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"Ay, watch whur tha' petch yer goin'!"

A heavy shoulder smashed into her own, rocking the sunkissed female roughly out of its way and into another pedestrian not the least bit amused. The young Myrian whipped around in a flash, lip curled and teeth bared in all the likeness of an indignant jaguar. One hand flashed instinctively for her gladius as her amber eyes searched for the offender. All she found was a single backward glance by a grungy looking fellow as he quickly assimilated himself back into the crowd. Slowly the Myrian lowered her sword hand, watching him go. After all what was she going to do? Chase him like a madwoman through the streets of Sunberth brandishing a sword? An angry mob would throw her upon the pyre of the Slag Heap within a tick. Besides, since when was a common bump of shoulders along the street enough to merit a bloody fight in the open? The Bazaar in Syliras was always plenty crowded when she passed through and not everyone had been mindful to watch their own steps. It shouldn't have been anything new to her anyways. Yet it seemed her entire world had irrevocably changed the moment she stepped off that damn merchant ship. And there was something...wrong she found in his eyes just before he looked away from her.

Goddess, these people are sketchy, she thought to herself darkly, turning away from the direction the man had escaped and resuming her walk. Her pack thumped softly against her back as she navigated the new and unpredictable world she'd just stepped foot in. Thus far she hadn't gone much farther than the Drunken Fish which had doubled as both her place of stay and faithful tavern. Really there hadn't been a need to. Sunberth was in no way her final destination. She shouldn't have been there in the first place, but the fates had decided her destiny and there she was anyways. As much as she'd love to spiral her way into alcoholism and never leave the port tavern, she was a Myrian. Adventure and fearlessness (or stupidity depending on who you asked) ran through her very veins. Last time she checked she wasn't a damn shut in. Though from the stories she had heard back at the Rearing Stallion (yes, another tavern), she was probably better off being exactly that.

Kaie had become more aware than ever of her gladius from the moment she reached the docks. The decorated heirloom had been her sole companion through the last through years, and arguably her only anchor when everything had turned to shyke. It's gentle, loyal tapping upon her hip was almost soothing like a quiet whisper promising its reliability. Oh, how she did love how it sung to her when she tore it from its sheath. Judging by the infamous city's reputation she doubted it would be long before she'd let it serenade her once again. Had she not had it she might've been far more cautious and thoughtful about this decision to explore blindly. She could only hope she'd somehow find her way back.

About a bell had passed before the Myrian female finally began to slow. Not even she could avoid hunger for so long, and though she had ignored it for some time, her stomach had already begun to silently growl its annoyance. The Drunken Fish certainly wasn't known for its culinary prowess, but she had eaten a meager portion impossible to sate anyone's cravings. Now her hunger had returned with full force. She needed to eat something. So like any food driven person, she followed her nose. After the bronze woman had gotten past the rotten stench of unknown origins, something finally appealed to her senses. After a chime of walking she found herself stepping into some sort of bakery.

[color=Gold]"Hello. I take loaf of bread. That one there,"
Kaie said as soon as she spied the baked good, a finger extending to point out the one that interested her. The brown haired gentleman (if such a term could be used in the city) nodded and extended his hand toward her.

"Two Copper Mizas, Myrian."

Wow. The first denizen to not shoot me a malicious look and name me "savage." What a surprise.


"Sure, I've got them right...right." She jostled her hand around into her cloak, yanked it out and padded where the inner pocket had held her things. Instead she found nothing but empty space. Her expression darkened murderously, eyes once more seeing that sneering grin of the man that disappeared into the crowd a bell before.

"Son of a bitch!" She snarled in her own language and turned away from the man, whose expression was one of bewilderment for but a moment before he understood her confused and angry gestures as she continued to search. He laughed quietly and went back to other business, leaving the savage girl cursing in a jungle rage as she shoved her way out of the shop.

Thieves, the whole lot of them. Gods damn him! How could I have missed that?!

Her bitter thoughts did not recede any more than her growing hunger did. She was just about to storm back in the Drunken Fish's direction to find an empty room to rummage her pack for her larger coin purse, when another aroma of sustenance washed over her like a tidal wave upon a parched beach. Before she truly knew what she was doing, she followed it. And when she reached the spot where the scent led just down the street, she cared not about the sign she could not read hanging upon the building. Instead she did what any hungry woman would do. Kaie slowly and quietly pushed open the door and slipped inside. What she found was certainly not what she had hoped for.

Another orphanage?

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Follow Your Nose

Postby Noven on March 13th, 2014, 11:18 pm

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He set down the ladle, a strange unease crawling up his spine. It was quiet out there. Too quiet.

Nov exited the kitchens in full expectation that the orphans had gone berserk. At last, he thought to himself, they've murdered each other. Every one of them eliminated, down to the very last pint sized trouble maker and suckling rascal in the making. Maybe he'd finally get to take a holiday now, once he dumped all their bodies in a ditch.

What he found, however, was not quite as uplifting.

The runts sat in unprecedented, uniform silence. Eyes wide with guarded confusion, their gazes all converged on the lone figure that had slipped into their humble abode. Regular children might have panicked, or run to fetch an adult. Or, at the very least, greeted the exotic stranger, none for the wiser. But Sunset's orphans were not regular children. They were natives of Sunberth. And, young as they were, the local protocol for all things suspicious ran deep in their veins.

Small, freshly scrubbed faces hardened, beady eyes glittered with distrust, and little knuckles everywhere went white as they tightened around the nearest plate or utensil within reach. It was subtle, but palpable. He could see the tension and resolve gestating behind their grim expressions.

"Ahem," the cook coughed, hoping to resolve this issue so he could get back to fixing up dinner and be done with it all. "What's going on, eh?"

His question seemed to sink through enough that several of the orphans lost some of their nerve and looked to him for guidance. Their prickly facades melted to reveal the real source of their silence.

Fear. They were afraid, and they didn't know what to do with the unexpected intruder.

"She just walked in," Mira answered. "We didn't do anything." Her voice held the tiniest hint of a waver that belied her otherwise solid composure. Curious...the little shyke was nervous. That had to mean there was something more to this stranger than a casual visitor. In fact, it seemed many of the other orphans saw similarly and harbored the same reactions.

They were whispering something amongst themselves now. He caught flittering bits and pieces, but it took a while before he finally put all the sounds in the right order. A mm..ear...mear...

Myrian.

Noven turned to look at their uninvited guest proper. A young thing, with hunger in her amber eyes and a quality in her expression dour enough to give old Garry a run for his money. The cook had to admit she was beautiful, albeit in a lean, mean, carnivorous feline sort of way. But her features held a softness to them as well, and there were no bloodstains or gore on her at first glance that would suggest she butchered and ate children for a living.

Could she really be...a Myrian? One of the bloodthirsty savages those lucky enough to have parents or caretakers were threatened with a hundred times as kids? Nona must have condemned him as one of them at least once a day, if not more. Especially when he got into fights...

Old memories flooded his mind for a moment, and with them came the familiar, poisonous thirst for revenge. His head throbbed at this onslaught and he fought to reign it all back in.

Well, doesn't this day just keep getting better.

"You...lost?" Nov suggested skeptically. He was going for an approach that would be as least weapon-provoking as possible, but the question sounded stupid even to him. Bah, he was never good at this sort of thing. Petch it.

"If I can help, I'll help. If not, you'd better leave. We don't want any trouble."


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Follow Your Nose

Postby Kaie on March 21st, 2014, 11:18 pm

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Well shyke, The bronzed woman thought to herself bitterly as she pressed the door behind her shut with her back, gaze locked upon the dozens of eyes that trapped her where she stood. Awkward didn't even begin to describe how she felt, and considering she was far more comfortable in a loincloth and vest than concealing, barbarian clothing, that was surely saying something. It hadn't been her first time dealing with orphans in an orphanage either. Just a couple seasons ago Matthew had yanked her out of the Rearing Stallion for a "date," which ultimately consisted of them playing babysitter and Kaie sharing some of the Myrians' rich history. Sunberth's children were hardly comparable to those of Syliras. They were dirty with grimy hands and dusty faces. Though she could guess they were widely uneducated, there was an abundance of a different sort of knowledge within their eyes. They were street smart, and to Kaie that was the most important thing they could be.

Just when she was considering perhaps bargaining with the kids for some food, a masculine voice rose out of almost no where. Well, that or she hadn't noticed the cook before. He was a lean, sturdy young man with earthy hair and rusty eyes that seemed to hold something of curiosity to the uninvited guest. His expression seemed only somewhat surprised at best, but the way his brow was set made him far more broody. A small piece of her willed her right hand to linger closer to the handle of her gladius, but common sense told her otherwise. After all what better way was there to get a mob after her than to start brandishing weapons around a petching orphanage?


"I think we can both agree there's enough trouble to go around this city seven fold without my help," She began slowly in Common while doing her best to maintain a non-threatening tone, though often it came naturally much in part to her accent. Amber eyes glanced over the staring faces again before she had the mind to continue. "I'm just...looking for food."

Goddess, I'd be thrown out on my ass in Taloba for that line.

Kaie leaned off the door and brushed off her vest before finding the nerve to say what she would next.

Guess I'll just dig a grave for my pride and get this over with...


"My coin got snatched in the streets. I'm willing to...compensate for your...kindness."

It was if her own words were toxic.



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Follow Your Nose

Postby Noven on March 27th, 2014, 3:07 am

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His brow rose a fraction at the Myrian's response. An attempt at civility was about the last thing Nov had expected, given the poorly disguised resentment written across her features, even as she spoke words of reason and compliance.

Some of the children continued looking at their unexpected visitor with fearful wariness. But, most had moved onto a different emotion altogether: curiosity. Most, like Mira and Thomas, knew in spite of their tender ages what the word compensate even meant. They'd heard it many a time. When shady goods passed from one hand to another. When whores plied their wares. When their mothers and fathers sold them off to strangers for a few more days without going hungry.

"Whut you goin' ta give us?" Thomas blurted, his tone dead serious.

"S'none of your business, moron," Mira chided.

"Oy, shut up. Both of you." Nov gave the Myrian an exasperated look. "If you can't pay, we'll have to think of somethin' else then."

Realizing how that might have sounded, he added, "Chores, mainly. Or whatever else you can manage."

The cook thought for a moment. How to make the most use of extremely unpredictable aid? The kitchen was too small for two people to work and the orphans had taken care of most of the cleaning and sweeping. Besides, it wouldn't do to reduce their work load; they needed that daily discipline.

"H-Have you killed anybody with that sword, miss?" Loy asked, awe quickly overcoming his fear once he--and several others, much to Nov's dismay--realized this exotic looking foreigner was here to stay.

Wait. That gave him an idea.

"Seeing as how I don't need help in the kitchen, and the runts are all but done with their chores for the day," Nov spoke carefully, knowing full well if he gave himself away too quick he'd have a stampede on his hands, "the only thing I can think of..."

All the orphans waited, little bums at the edges of their seats, eyes over brimming with anticipation.

"...is...perhaps, if you're up for it..."

They craned in closer like vultures waiting for their helpless prey to make its final death twitch.

"...training."

Nov spun around to face the pack of jittery children, but no one so much as moved a muscle. They knew this drill all too well. If they earned his ire before their reward could be doled out in full, they would lose it before it came anywhere near their greedy grasps.

The cook narrowed his eyes for a tick longer, then turned back to face the Myrian. "They need exercise, and to know how to properly handle themselves. Not," he emphasized, "beat each other bloody. Just basic defense. And discipline."

He slid a sidelong glare behind him. "Never enough discipline."

Well, this was a risk, to be sure. But he couldn't think of anything else, and if the Myrian so much as nibbled on one of their tiny pinkies the city would have her hanging from the gallows before sunset.

"If this is acceptable, I'll take your services in exchange for a meal. There is a space for them out back, and some sticks they can practice with, if you think it necessary." The cook shifted anxiously, unused to being so civil to a complete stranger. But the girl seemed sincere enough and all the orphans were still accounted for. It was as good a sign as any to him.

"The name's Noven, by the way," he added. "Better get to it quick. Dinner will be ready in half a bell."


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Follow Your Nose

Postby Kaie on April 23rd, 2014, 10:45 pm

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The initial silence following her words was something only to be described as painful, and all the while the tiny Humans continued to gawk at her like a captured animal on display. Somehow despite her severely wounded pride, the Myrian remained as stoic and as firmly in place as a statue. Not even her eyes wandered from their placement on the cook. She hoped he didn't discover her silent pleads to simply fry her alive in her stare. A tease of relief came only in light of his generous reply.

"Fair enough. Just tell me what needs to be done," Kaie answered evenly with a slow nod of agreement. Chores. She really could have expected as much. As long as he didn't require her to go around playing mommy and wiping asses for him, she'd comply. If she wasn't so lucky...well, no Myrian was ever known to be keen on outright thievery. It certainly didn't make things better that if she did stoop so low, she'd be stealing from orphans.

"H-Have you killed anybody with that sword, miss?"

The savage's head snapped to eye the source of the voice, a bold little boy that seemed to have suddenly outgrown his mask of childish fright. Kaie studied him thoughtfully for a tick before offering her audience a shrug.
"This sword's seen more than one man's blood, yes. In Sunberth hardly any of the blades people carry are for show. Figured you lot would know that better than anyone," The sunkissed woman answered bluntly, a mirthful curl coming to her lips just then. There would be little use in sugarcoating the truth for children that knew better, unlike the orphans of Syliras. The cook's voice quickly became the center of her focus again, though. His proposition was one that was the Myrian couldn't have possibly expected.

Train these kids?

Amber eyes flickered between the cook and the children, her expression one of both perplexity and a bit of distrust. It was only when he elaborated that she realized he was absolutely serious. Almost immediately her mind wandered back to what seemed like a lifetime ago. She saw Molly's face, heard her carefree giggling. It was all Kaie could do not to cringe. That was a job, Kaie. A job you took because you needed it. That's it. She was not your kin. Forget it, She scolded herself quietly.


"I'm called Kaie. Guess I'll get to it then, yes?" The Myrian glanced over each dirty face before she approached them, face softening a bit out of the hard mask of neutrality. Most seemed eager enough but she figured there might be a way to coax the more conservative of the bunch out of their nervous shell. She cleared her throat. "First out back might just get to hold my sword."
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Follow Your Nose

Postby Noven on May 4th, 2014, 10:26 pm

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The runts burst into cacophonous cheer and rushed out in a stampede of eager, ragged feet. Nov's shoulders sagged in relief. With the pressure of dozens of beady little eyes peeled from his back, he gave Kaie the Myrian a salute of good luck and lumbered back into the miniature kitchen. Hopefully, the kabobs weren't burnt to crisps and the soup reduced to curdled lumps.

As the cook turned over skewers before moving to stir the soup now and then, he pressed a palm to his eyes, willing the strange sensation in his head to go away. It wasn't another telltale headache, he knew that for sure. But it was bothersome all the same and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

Nov sprinkled a bit of seasoning over the rather colorful set of small kabobs and got to thinking. It wasn't a past time he enjoyed, but the situation called for it. After all, who knew what could be triggering it? His inherent suspicion for anything and everything magic rose up to greet nagging questions. His head...itched, for lack of a better word. Like something in it was struggling to poke through. What if it was a spell of some kind? What if that Myrian girl had cast it?

No, that didn't seem likely, the cook sullenly thought to himself. Strange as it was to admit, this Kaie, this Myrian, seemed more like him than a potential, dark sorceress. A fighter, with little patience for things like sneaking about or slipping spells atop unsuspecting people's heads.

Once the food was more or less ready, Nov set down a heavy, metal lid above the bubbling pot and piled the kabobs until they formed a small mountain above a wide set platter.

There weren't many other possibilities with magic out of the picture, then. Could it be that just the appearance of the foreigner triggered this strange reaction? It seemed absurd. Impossible, even. But the Sunberthian was short on options and imagination. He had been fine until the lass had stumbled in with an empty stomach and glare potent enough to kill. Didn't take a high and mighty scholar to connect the dots.

With a sigh of defeat, Nov hefted the platter onto his shoulders and tottered his way to the dining hall. Once he set down the hill of kabobs he went back for the soup and hoisted it onto a rickety old table. He looked at the clean hall and all of his handiwork with a sliver of pride. Done, and with time to spare.

Curiosity ended up getting the best of him. The cook made his way down to the courtyard to see how the runts were faring. Mayhap he could even learn a thing or two himself, though he was loathe to admit such a prospect.


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Follow Your Nose

Postby Kaie on May 15th, 2014, 8:27 pm

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As the children lurched from their imaginary starting gates toward the courtyard, Kaie couldn't help but cast her eyes skyward as if silently pleading for mercy. She turned to the cook and returned his salute with a slow nod of her own before she followed the stampede. A proper thanks would have to wait. He had a small horde to feed and a curious promise to keep. Though part of her wished she hadn't really used possessing her sword as an incentive...

The courtyard was hardly anything to boast about. The earth was covered in patchy shades of brown grass that looked so decayed, Kaie wondered if it'd ever come back. It was suitable enough to their needs for that bell, however, and it was a lucky thing Sunberth had blessed the orphans with any free roaming ground at all. Before long the Myrian female was swarmed by panting, red faces. Each voice cried jovially above the its neighbor, swearing by all the gods they had been the ones to arrive first. Like animals they had shoved each other to ensure a chance at holding the damned blade, but they did not fool Kaie. A little girl no older than seven stood toward the back of the pack. Her features were so mediocre that the savage never would've even noticed her, had it not been for the dirt-ridden ribbon she had tied to her short black hair. It looked as though the fabric might've been a bold, beautiful red once.


"You, girl. What' is your name?" Kaie broke over the cries finally, her Common brutalized by her native tongue but still carrying a tone meant to be a bit more gentle. The little girl stared back at her all doe-eyed, nervous as a tapir within sight of a jaguar. Never once had she declared her victory despite the noise all around her. For a tick the Myrian was almost certain she couldn't speak at all.

"Hope." She rocked on her heels quietly, shifting her muddy eyes to her new instructor. The children around her seemed to pipe down, voices turning from persuasive to disdainful. They parted as Kaie maneuvered between them until she was crouching before the child. Carefully the gladius was unsheathed and the blade shined deftly within the light that Syna allowed.

"Why you givin' it to 'er? I won. Loy saw me didn't ya?"
"Aye. I..I saw him. Thomas was first," Loy replied hesitantly, glancing between the sword and Thomas. When he gathered his wits again he nodded sternly in his companion's direction.
"See? Now lemme see it." Thomas reached his grimy hands for the weapon, but it was yanked out of range long before his fingers grasped the empty air it once occupied. Instead it was in Hope's carefully opened palms. It balanced there neatly with a certain grace that made the young girl gape in awe. The rest of the children huddled close, their fingers dashing forward for a chance to touch the cool metal. Luckily, the savage retrieved it once again before any of them succeeded. The last thing she needed was the chef taking her food off the table for a folly that involved the spilling of orphan blood.


"That's enough for now. We've got work to do, no?" She paced into the center of the yard, the youth following close at her heels, until she spun around unexpectedly and they tumbled backward upon each other in fits of fright. Apparently the bribery of cooperation with her most prized possession hadn't been enough to shake away her stereotype. "Combat isn't about swords, daggers, and clubs. Everyone likes to fancy themselves some real cutthroats. They buy all these big, shiny weapons and you lot find them dead in an alley the next day. Fighting isn't about who has the better weapon. It's about who knows how to use theirs best." The belt that held her sword and sheath dropped from her waist and clattered to the ground. Next fell the harness of twin kukri. "And what good is a weapon, no matter how well you've mastered it, if it's out of your hands? No good. Best to learn to use your hands first. Any brave volunteers?"

Several chimes later the Myrian had gone over the basics. She felt like some sort of Fang Leader in the Training Yards drilling the recruits. Everything after a while seemed to petching repetitive as she strolled through the neat lines the orphans had finally formed. "For Goddess sake, boy, legs shoulder width apart. You're not riding a petching horse are you?" and "keep your elbows closer to protect your ribs, and get those hands up if you'd like to keep that pretty nose of yours in a fight" proved to be some of the more common phrases she piped at them. It took time but eventually most of them had at least become acquainted with the proper stance. Since Thomas had proven to the the little shyke of the bell between pestering those around him and mocking those that had been initially lost, it seemed only fair he was given his moment in the light.

"You sure, Miss? I dun' wanna hurt ya."

"I wouldn't be so worried about that. Go on. Take a swing. And get your thumb out of that fist before you break it." Thomas adjusted his fingers sheepishly and took several deep breaths. For some time he seemed to just stare at the woman, a smirk coming to his face as he formed some sort of plan of attack. Then without warning he let out a cry and lurched toward her. A wild haymaker hurled around toward her face. Kaie lifted her left hand and let the strike rebound futilely off her forearm, while she stepped toward him and shot out her right hand. It caught his throat gently and eased him backward, while a leg swept his feet out from under him. The boy landed softly upon his back, much in part to the careful way in which she handled him, rather than striking him down like a regular foe. Thomas gaped up at her while the children let out hoots and jibs at his expense. The Myrian laughed along with them and righted the red-cheeked boy.

"That's a counter. Sometimes it's better to use your attacker's own movements against himself. Pair up and I'll show you."
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Follow Your Nose

Postby Noven on May 21st, 2014, 6:46 am

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Nov appeared from the doorway not long after Kaie had delivered her poignant speech to the children. She made a good point, the Myrian. Fists firsts, everything later--that was the same motto Nona had branded in his young mind so many lifetimes ago. The city was one of thieves and liars, she'd preach. Never count on someone to give you enough ticks to pull out your weapon or fight fair. First chance they get they'll gut you and you'd better be ready, weapons or no weapons. Mind sharp, eyes open, feet swift.

And she had defied all of that just to save his life.

The cook quickly forced his mind to wander elsewhere, all too used to this familiar old path of torment. He focused, instead, on the novelty of a Myrian in their midsts. For all the wild stories that were told of the warrior race, Kaie seemed no more feral or inhuman than the small orphans she was currently not roasting on a skewer.

Besides, Nov figured, if she were really a cannibal, she wouldn't be stumbling into Sunset with a growling stomach and temper to match, now would she?

He lost his general train of thought as the children were told to pair up. Mostly because Mira had placed her self squarely in front of Thomas, a lurid grin stretched across her dark little features.

Gods above, Mira, he groaned inwardly, already picturing the bloody results, This is a lesson, not a death match.

Thomas had only just gotten back to his feet after his teacher's demonstration, cheeks aflame and eyes averted. When he caught the look on his imposed partner's face, the blood all but drained from his face. For half a tick, anyway, before stubborn pride and competition overrode all self-preserving sensibilities. Noven had no idea what the Myrian had planned, setting them in pairs. But he had a funny feeling it could end only one way with the two ultimate rivals pitted against one another.

Not long ago, the cook had tried to persuade Thomas that the only reason their feud was so strong was because the lad had a thing for their fiesty little, knife wielding demon. The boy had turned so nauseated at the very thought Nov was half afraid he'd attack Mira in earnest right then and there. He didn't, though, because his elder and standing authority had picked him up right by the scruff of his collar and thrown him into a full day's worth of chores. Nov knew all too well how little boys could be. Gotta keep em busy and out of trouble, as Calyn used to always say.

As he watched the runts undergo their training, the merc couldn't help but feel a twinge of desire to join in. Just a bit. Then he thought of the possibility of being made to look a fool before an army of increasing viciousness and reconsidered. Perhaps another day, but for now there was soup to be drunk and kabobs to be devoured. Even his own stomach was starting to rumble.

Noven idly let the orphans wear themselves out for another half a bell or so. When they looked ready to plop down right where they stood, he gave the telltale holler.

"Food's gettin' cold!"

A stampede of small, dirty feet poured back into mess hall. The cook was ready for them, already sloshing soup into upraised bowls and tossing kabobs onto nicked plates. When it came to Mira and Thomas's turns, he was surprised to see neither bleeding in every direction. Well, one less thing to worry about, was all he thought on the matter.

At some point it was the Myrian's turn, to which Nov responded with a double helping of everything. "You earned it," he grudgingly admitted.


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Follow Your Nose

Postby Kaie on May 22nd, 2014, 3:10 am

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Sure enough she was the Fang Leader in the Training Yards again, mulling between the rows of paired children. Once Thomas had regathered his pride and found himself opposite a rather feisty looking girl, Kaie had hastily resumed the lesson. The verbal demonstration had been simple enough. There was no need to humiliate a second child before his peers to make the rest of the population follow her. It was all very straight forward. The little runts were practically itching to dig their fists into one another. Something told the Myrian the gracious cook wouldn't be so fond of that.

"Alright. You're all going to play both roles of attacker and defender. Now attackers are going to do exactly as I ask and not do their damnedest to pummel their partner into the dirt," She began dryly, pausing her stroll in the midst of the children. Considering the last time she had interacted with a horde of orphans had been in Syliras, when Matthew brought her to the orphanage to tell heroic tales of heroes and Myrians conquering the Dhani in Falyndar to entertain them, Kaie was finding it strangely uncomfortable being so...disciplined before them. She cleared her throat. "Attackers, throw a simple straight punch. Don't hurl it at them. Don't try a bunch of fake outs. Nice and easy. Work on your form. Make sure you step into it. Defenders, I want you to step with your back foot outside the strike and out of the way. Bring your lead hand from your guard into it. Your forearm should hit your partners and thus knock the punch away from your body." The Myrian acted out the motion, slipping off center and redirecting an imaginary arm harmless past her. "That's a simple redirection. If you want to counter it instead, here's a quick one: immediately step back toward your opponent and swing the side of your lead fist back into their face. If you redirect the initial punch first, you'll leave that same side wide open. Aim for the nose if you can. And please, defenders, don't actually hit your partners either. Go slow and get the motion down. Okay, try it out."

Kaie glanced away from the group, only then spotting Noven watching from the sidelines. She offered him a sheepish shrug and then returned to babysitting. Shockingly, only twice did she have to split up a pair that had grown rowdy all too quickly. All in all, injuries were kept to a bare minimum and real issues had been virtually nonexistent. Perhaps that was all thanks to her stereotype yet again, or Sunberth's forgotten had suddenly sprouted a sense of what good behavior looked like. Something told her the latter was extremely unlikely.

"Food's gettin' cold!"

Like a parade of Tskannas, the orphans had disappeared and left nothing but dirty plumes in their wake. Kaie grabbed her gladius belt and kukri harness before heading after them. By the time she had followed the noise to the mess hall, she had both articles strapped back onto her person. Hope ushered her into the line after handing her an extra bowl and plate. The Myrian awkwardly followed the line, pausing and stopping as was the nature of such an ordeal. Then when it was her turn a significant amount of soup was emptied into her bowl, and twice the kabobs compared to the rest before her. She stared down and blinked dumbly before raising her head to hear the cook's praise.


"Thank you," She managed before being force farther down the line by the impatient children behind her. The ones with their helpings had already gathered to their tables as they did every day. Kaie found one unoccupied and almost immediately dug into the food. Her spoon was shoveled into her mouth after the first taste of soup, and her other hand had a kabob ready to be torn apart. Had it really been that long since she had last eaten?
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