Open [The Seaside Market] Bend & Break

[Shakune]

Bend & Break, 7th Winter, 514AV

The market was busy. Busier than usual, Shakune thought as she shoved her way through the mingling crowds. The number of people did not bother her -- in fact, the half-breed appreciated their body warmth. The cold did not suit her, and whenever she grouchily mentioned this to a friend, they would chortle and promise her that there was much colder weather to come.

Hence her visit to the market; Shakune was shopping for clothes, which was a vile task in itself. She was not interested in fashion, or even making sure she looked acceptable. As long as her garments did not have too many holes in, and did not stink too terribly, Shakune was happy to wear them. But even her handy coat did little to protect her against the winter chill. The prospect of colder weather was enough to send her straight out of her home and into the hubbub of the market.

She stood before a stall filled with silks, cottons and woollens. The girl on the opposite side smiled up at her toothlessly, though said nothing. Trying not to look completely out of her depth, Shakune fingered an ugly brown hat before dismissing it in favour of a blue scarf. Would this keep her warm? She always saw women wearing brightly coloured scarves, though Shakune had felt the accessories were more for status than practicality.

Eventually she selected the blue scarf, a narrow-rimmed black hat and a pair of thick woolen socks. Having tried and failed to barter with the apparently mute stallholder, Shakune turned to leave the market.

It was only then that she finally paid attention to the crowd. The market was usually filled with worn-out men and women haggling over potatoes and questionable fish, but even Shakune noticed that those milling about the Market now were... different somehow. Younger perhaps? Healthier looking? Angrier? All three seemed accurate.

Her sense of unease seemed mirrored in the faces of other market regulars; she caught the eye of Lenny, a fat vendor who sold vegetables, and he too looked concerned and confused. Something was amiss, and Shakune knew well enough that she needed to leave the Market before something happened.

She stepped forward, and at the moment her foot touched down on the icy ground, the crowd tore into each other. A woman screamed and Shakune heard the unmistakable sound of metal slicing against metal as swords and daggers were unsheathed. Someone crashed into Shakune and she stumbled backwards, almost collapsing onto the stall from which she had just purchased her goods. After steadying herself somewhat, the half-breed observed the chaos in front of her. She saw one woman curse loudly before brandishing a knife to the throat of an older man, whilst a young lad tripped and fell over a bloody body.

Her challenge now, of course, was getting out of here safely.

oocLedger: -5GM for purchases

[Ayviss]

It had taken time, an entire season of working towards her goal, but Ayviss had made some progress. She browsed the coats in the stall, trying to find something for the new slave her owner was training. It couldn't be something new, couldn't be expensive, couldn't be too warm... But it had to be enough to make him survive the Winter. Ayviss sighed, glad that she never really had to pass through the same kind of 'training' this one was going through. She finally chose an used brown coat, simple enough that Hollard wouldn't even check to see if it was too warm or not, and paid with the money her owner had given her. There were still a few coins in her pocket, and she thought if she could steal some of those to herself. If she took all of them, Hollard surely would notice, but if it were just a few...

She could decide on that later. For now, she just looked around, searching for her owner. While Hollard now trusted her enough to allow her to shop by herself, it didn't meant he wasn't looking. A person bumped into her, and she growled to herself, annoyed. The market was too crowded, perfect if she wanted to escape. But she didn't, at least not right then. So the number of people there was just an annoyance.

Ayviss finally found him, browsing a stall, near a woman with the same dark eyes that the doctor who had treated her on Fall. The woman was different enough to be easily spotted among the human population, and Ayviss wondered which race she was. However, soon enough her focus turned back to her owner, and she tried to navigate between the people.

Just when she reached her owner, and was about to say something, someone screamed and Ayviss turned, surprised, towards the confusion that the Market had become in less than a second. She saw two men unsheathing their swords and begin to fight, and murmured a curse under her breath. Just her luck. Maybe, if she could take Hollard and leave...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a strong push, and Ayviss lost balance, bumping into the strange woman she had seen before and almost sending her crashing down on the stall.

She grunted, trying to steady herself too, looking around. Hollard was nowhere to be seen. Ayviss could feel her own dagger on her back, but she hoped she wouldn't need to use it.

x

[L'orlei]

L'orlei stood shivering at the edge of the market, her arms wrapped about herself in a futile attempt to keep warm. She had not thought to purchase any winter gear before she left the island, used to the warm tropical weather there, and was cursing herself for the oversight. Idiot, L'orlei, idiot. Of course it will be cold, it's winter! There was nothing to do but move forward, however, and she had to brave the scary market with all it's guards and arguing seedy people to find herself some proper winter attire. The tide was out, though L'orlei might have preferred it otherwise had she known that waiting on the tide was even an option. The watery market would have reminded her of home, but there would be no such reminders that day. Everything was so different. There was so much shouting and haggling. There were men fighting here and there, it was all so chaotic and terrifying. L'orlei paused at a shady looking merchant, eyeing his wares. Flasks and smaller containers filled with liquid, pastes, and other concoctions. An herbalist? At least that was what she thought until another man walked up and blatantly asked for Bloodroot. L'orlei was no poisoner, but she did have some vague knowledge in the area, and recognized the name. The man was no herbalist! He was a poison crafter! She quickly moved on. Finally the Konti found what she was looking for, a stand filled with various articles of clothing, most looking to be for the winter season. The merchant's name whispered in the back of her mind, Kohler, as she approached him and L'orlei offered him a friendly smile. Kohler smiled back with his own gap-toothed grin. "What'll it be, fair Konti? Perhaps one of my fine jackets here. Made from the wool of Kalean mountain goats. Finest material mizas can by, of that you can be sure." "Um.. no thanks, K-" L'orlei caught herself before she finished saying his name. The ship captain had warned her about displaying anything remotely magical, and her tendency to say the names of people she met before they introduced himself was apparently considered magical. To her it was perfectly normal, there was nothing mystical about it. But the captain had assured her the people would not see it that way. "Um.. I don't need anything fancy. Just something simple to keep me warm." "Of course, dear lady, but let me just say, just because this is made from the finest of wool does not mean it is fancy. It's a simple piece, but for warmth you'll find nothing better. I think this is the one for you, if you ask me." L'orlei considered arguing, but in the end she just consented. She had no reason to suspect the man, though she had been warned not to trust anyone in Sunberth. She simply couldn't bring herself to distrust every person she met, no matter how strange they appeared. "Thank you, Kohler, I'll take it." Petch, she thought as the man stiffened, hearing his name. To his credit though he recovered quickly and said nothing, content to get his mizas instead of questioning her. He did seem more in a rush after that, however. "Nine golden mizas, if you will, and the jacket is yours, and you can be on your way." L'orlei nodded and pulled the mizas out of her pouch, flinching as the merchant hungrily snatched them from her and shoved them into a pocket. L'orlei thanked him and moved on, pulling on what she thought was a high quality mohair wool jacket made from only the finest of Kalean mountain goats. It wasn't as warm as she'd hoped, but that was more likely due to the fact that it was only regular wool, made from whatever sheep happened to be at hand when the tailor made it. L'orlei had been ripped off, of course, and had no idea. L'orlei did not notice the strange make up of the people around her. She did not notice the tension that was silently building. She did notice when everybody started fighting though. One moment everything was peaceful, or as peaceful as a Sunberthan market could be, and the next everybody was trying to kill each other. The Daggerhands and the Sun's Birth began to fight, though L'orlei knew nothing about either gang. She just stood there in horror, watching as the fighting broke out and people began to die. "Rak'keli, help me," the konti whispered before she was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to help. Running to the first downed person she could reach her mark flared to life, but she quickly realized that the man was dead, there was nothing that she could do. She spotted another slumped against a stall, blood seeping from a wound in his shoulder. L'orlei ran to him, but instead crashed into a woman who had apparently been shoved by another woman who had been shoved by someone else. Shakune, the name sounded in her mind. "I'm sorry, Shakune," she shouted in Kontinese, pushing the woman aside and running to the injrued man, "I have to help him! Ledger : -9gm for an overprice regular wool jacket.

[Shakune]

Shakune was not a fearful woman. She actually considered herself to be quite hardy, especially given that she was not born and raised in Sunberth. Bar brawls and drunken arguments entertained her rather than made her nervous, and the two times she had been mugged had actually resulted in her becoming tight friends with the thugs.

But there was something about a fight such as this - with knives, swords and other pointy things - that completely terrified her. It wasn't just that escaping would prove a problem, but also Shakune's lack of competence with any type of weapon. She wore her khopeh for the status it carried, the silent implication that she could kill at any time with the wickedly curved blade. In actual fact, she was far more likely to slice her own fingers off than she was to hurt anyone else.

The mute salesgirl had left the stall by now. Shakune saw her scurrying away with the overlarge bag swung on her back, hugging the wall of the closest building to try and remain unseen by the mob.

A sound - her name said in a strange accent - drew black eyes back into the crowd. 'Shakune' was not a common name, and did not sound like any word she knew. Her brows furrowed, though in the madness she could not spot whoever had spoken her name, nor could she recognise the accent that had tinted its pronunciation.

A one eyed man, who was quite literally thrown at Shakune, broke her concentration. She was knocked to the ground, and whilst falling she dragged down dark-haired woman who had initially stumbled into her. After swearing profusely and rubbing her head where she had collided with the stall on the way down, she finally turned her attention to the other woman. "Sorry," she blurted out sharply, aware that social conventions were not hugely important in moments such as these. When she turned to the one-eyed man, who lay motionless on the ground beside her, Shakune gasped. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and his mouth hung open in an endless expression of shock and pain. She scrabbled at the cobbles, desperate to away from the corpse, but knocked the back of her head on the leg of the stall. Hot pain throbbed through her brain and skull as concussion began to sweep through her nerves.

Her vision was blurry, but as she stared hopelessly up at the crowd above her, Shakune swore she saw a boot heading towards her gut.

[Autumn Leithea]

Autumn didn't know how the fight started, but it was getting way out of hand. She could hear the whooshing sound of blades cutting through the air, and the sickening punches of gore where a knife had been buried into flesh. Autumn knew she couldn't stay very long here and keep her life, but she was sure she was in the middle of it. She nearly dodged a dagger aimed recklessly at her throat, another at her chest. There was no more reason; it was pure chaos. Most simply flailing their weapons in the midst of a violence that had engulfed them all. And all Autumn wanted was for her to find some nice socks and a new pair of shoes for winter... As Autumn bobbed weaved her way through, she dodged a man trying to stab her, and grappled with his arm, flawlessly removing the dagger from the man's hand. He looked at his hand for a moment in disbelief as if the dagger had disappeared miraculously. Autumn spun around and kicked the man in the temple, putting him down on the ground faster than he could react. She only hoped the man wouldn't get trampled. She sheathed the dagger in her belt and moved on. Staying wary and ready for any more close encounters she would find in this mess. Her sense of direction was off, it didn't matter though, any way out was a way out. Just then Autumn saw a mans fis... She woke up on the ground, vision blurred, her skull hurting. She struggled back up and shook it off, dodging a knife inches from her throat. She continued and was almost out when she spotted a young girl who looked completely out of place in this hell. She was on the ground and most likely hurt. Autumn ran up to her. "Get up!" she shouted as she checked a man aside who was about to kick her in the gut. "Get up, get up!" she held out her hand.

[Dale Hawthorn]

"They wanted a war... They wanted blood..." These thoughts had been dark and violent, dripping through his consciousness like blood from pale fingertips. Dale had always made himself believe the lies, they were wrapped around his mind like armour, shielding him from the guilt and depression that so often claimed any part of a mercenary's life that was worth living.

The order had been given in the earlier hours of the morning, passed down to the Brothers and Sisters of the Daggerhands. There would be no defying this order, it was neither their place to question it or refuse it but while many new members of the gang seemed excited by the news, ready to establish a position of power and prestige within the vacuum of control that had appeared since Robern death other older members like Dale felt that it was too soon to strike out as they were still vulnerable. It didn't matter either way, the attack was happening.

Hell quickly broke loose in the market once they made their intentions clear. It was as swift and subtle as the Daggerhand could make but this was not the what they were renowned for and the Sun's Birth came from a line of knights, they could spot an ambush. "Daggerhands!" The call had been loud, coarse and could have been shouted by either side either as a warning or a signal but it didn't matter, the fight had begun.

Dale had found himself pushing through the crowds when it had begun, their hot and sweaty bodies offered little comfort to him as he sought an opponent, an enemy he could clash blades with and he soon found one. Dirty, dishevelled with a look of viciousness about him, his opponent resembled most Sunberthians who were violent enough to draw a dagger on a man who drew a cutlass in return and still not be fazed by this. "Come on!" Dale bellowed, giving the man a chance to flee or attack. It was the latter.

Metal clashed with metal as the man lunged toward Dale with a snarl, his dagger slicing foward through the air with lethal force and speed as Dale parried the blow, his own cutlass twisting to meet the dagger's course and knock it off. The man stumbled, his own momentum carrying him forward as Dale had seen a hundred times before and felt him own body lean back with familiarity before his yank his cutlass sharply upwards, the jagged blade tore the air asunder as well as the man's flesh as he was shortly knocked backward with a bloody wound before crashing into some nearby stall.

Dale would have ended then and there but soon he quickly found himself with a real opponent on his hand. A gleaming flash of steel alerted him to the danger so he leapt backwards, his head erupting in pain as it smacked against the pole of stall with a loud clang. The edge of his vision begun to blacken and blur but this was no time to pause and sooth his pain, his new opponent quickly closed the gap between them. She wielded the short, steel gladius with far more skill than his last opponent and truthfully more than he wielded his own blade with.

His eyes locked onto hers, ignoring the mass of people that were still attempting to flee the market, as they caused more damage and death as they did so and focused entirely on the next next few seconds. He decided his best move would be to attack so his stance naturally lowered, his knees bent slightly before launching upwards as his arm shot up before everything came down together in one ferocious overhead strike. She could see it coming from a mile away as she raised her own blade swiftly and cleanly, deflecting the blow. As their metal met Dale could feel the force ripple through his sword arm but he kept up the attack, his next blow cut to left with as much force he could put behind it but it poorly aimed so it was swiftly block once more. But this time as she pushed his blade away he raised his left fist and smashed it into the side of her rather pretty face.

It was not a knockout blow, but it took her off guard long enough to bring his knee upwards and ram into her gut as push her back a couple of steps. Whatever move they might have made next were made moot but a fresh stampede of people still trying to escape from the chaos of the market place, all Dale could see over a mob of dirty face was the woman knocked over a stall as someone pushed her roughly over the way. Dale looked around, his eyes searching frantically for his first enemy, he was still a threat and possibly still out for blood.

He found him, still leaning against the sall in apparently considerable pain as a blonde woman rushed over to him. She may or may not have missed the man's weak, pale hands going for his dirty, rusty dagger but Dale didn't. Breaking into a sprint he pushed through anyone who might have got in his way before blocking the Konti roughly with his arm and ramming the cutlass into the man's throat.

.

[L'orlei]

L'orlei's eyes widened in surprise as she was cut off by a man, Dale Hawthorne, and plunged a blade into the other man's throat. She let out something in between a whimper and a scream as horror filled her. She saw the life go out of the man, right before her very eyes. She had seen death before, but never like this. A pit grew in her stomach, and bile filled her throat, but she held it back. This was no time to fall apart. "Why did you do that!? He was hurt, he wasn't fighting anymore!" She lunged at the man, hitting him with open palms, but there was no power behind it. It was something closer to the fit a child might throw, and in this situation, L'orlei might have been a child. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she fell to her knees in front of the man. I should never have come here. I should have listened to the captain. I should never have come. Death was all around her. Her mark was throbbing, it wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do. She did not have any supplies, and she was not powerful enough to do much with just her mark. The man in front of her might even kill her off. L'orlei's hand found its way to the hilt of her suvai, a weapon she wore only because the captain had not let her off the ship until he convinced her that she must never go anywhere without it in Sunberth. L'orlei had no idea how to use the thing, but something in her, some survival instinct she barely registered, told her that if the man did try to finish her off she should stab him with it. Just a cut, that's all it would take, and the poisonous weapon would leave him weakened enough for her to get away.

[Ayviss]

Ayviss came very close to shrieking when she was dragged down, her attempt in trying to find her owner in the middle of the confusion interrupted. She fell, without knowing who had dragged her down, and tried desperately to hold onto something. It was futile, and when she connected with the ground, she felt a sharp pain on her shoulder, that made her hold her breath. It wasn't anywhere near the pain she would feel if she had broken something, and the first thing she did was try and move her left arm, to make sure everything was in place. She could feel a small pain each time she moved, but nothing was broken.

She sat up, as quickly as she could, her back glued to the stall, so no one could attack her from behind. She then listened to a strangled 'sorry', and looked at the woman with strange eyes, deducing it might have been her that had dragged her down. Her mind was running, trying to find any kind of solution. Ayviss wasn't prepared for a situation like this. She could barely use her dagger, and she had no idea what to do. The woman on the ground wasn't trying to kill her, which, listening to the sounds of steel meeting steel and the desperate screams all around her, was something.

The woman then frightened herself with the sight of a dead man, with a twisted neck, hitting her head on the stall. Ayviss frowned at him, a little disgusted by the image, but stood up as quickly as she could. Then, a man tried to quick the woman in the ground, and was shoved aside from another woman, who appeared out of nowhere. Ayviss blinked a few times, before she saw the man ready himself to try another kick, this time aimed by the woman that had just arrived, his face twisted in anger.

"Behind you!" Ayviss said, her eyes widening, and pointed to a point above the man's shoulder. Just like she hoped, he turned to look, and she took the opportunity to kick him as hard as she could in his groin. She turned around, before the man recovered once again, and looked at the woman on the ground.

"Help me get her out of here." she told the woman who was shouting to the other to get up. Ayviss knew she would probably just get into trouble if she helped someone instead of just getting away from the crowd, but, at the same time, she didn't trust her own abilities to take her off this mess. It was better to focus on helping and getting help, too.

The half blood passed her right arm under the strange-eyed woman's arms, and raised her to her feet, cringing when she felt another sharp pain on her shoulder.

"Where to?" she asked, hoping that some of them knew of a way out.

x

[Autumn Leithea]

"Is she hurt!?" asked Autumn loudly. "Here!" Autumn handed the woman on the ground the dagger she took from the man she knocked out. "This will protect you!" She then turned to the girl next to her; "Help her get up, shes gonna need her legs to walk out of here! If we carry her she'll just get us killed! I'll hold them off!" Autumn turned to see a harmony of dissonance unfolding before her. She turned her head slightly to check in back of her, all of them seemed preoccupied with each other. For a fleeting moment she noticed the strange harmony in their safety, they were relatively safe while the violence was turned on all the others. She then woke from her moment of daydream to face reality; how were they going to get out? She turned around seeing nothing at first and no threat in front. Then she turned... Behind her a man with a small hatchet was walking toward the other two girls with a bloodthirsty look on his face. Autumn dodged in front of him, slipped past one of his overpowered blows and used his momentum to throw him to the ground. She then disarmed him in his confused daze, throwing the hatchet aside, and kicked him as hard as she could in the head, knocking him out cold. "How is she doing!?" asked Autumn loudly.

[Dale Hawthorn]

The blade slipped in through the throat with an almost disconcerting lack of resistance much like a knife slicing through butter. With a far too familiar gargle that would no doubt remain with those who could hear it above the commotion and chaos that was still rife through the market, he heard the man slowly slip away as blood begun to fill his lungs, drowning himself to death. With a tug he yanked his blade back out as torrent of dark, crimson blood rushed out from the now slit that now dominanted the dead man's body, running down his front before turning the dirty, blackened snow beneath their feet to colour of red wine before finally melting it all together.

He heard an outcry from the woman, followed by the wild pummelling of her hands on his arms but they broke like water on rocks as she quickly fell to her knees, perhaps sensing the fruitless effort of trying to a man currently high in the adrenaline of battle. He didn't explain himself, he didn't seek gratitude or approval from strangers and there was still a war raging on around them, he had more important things on his mind right now that the tantrums and anger directed at him by a some young woman.

"Do y' see this?!" He shouted gruffly as he quickly sheathed his cutlass before grabbing her roughly by the chin and yanking upwards with little regards to her comfort as he held his other opened hand. "This mark.." He continued, gesturing to the Daggerhand tattoo that been inked to his skin for many years now "Means that I can an' will slit your throat if you get in my way. So get the fuck out of here you stupid fish, this ain't your bleedin' fight" He ordered, before pushing her back. It was a only a half-truth, he didn't see the woman as a threat, with or without the strange weapon she clung to that he had failed to noticed and for all his faults he had never tried to kill an innocent for the sake of getting in his way. Never tried.

Soon all thoughts of the Konti vanished, he had been distracted too long and his previous opponent who he assumed must have been part of the Sun's Birth with that kind of skill, had managed to climb back to her feet and was walking straight at him with intent in her gait, venom in her eyes and nasty bruise forming on the side of her face. Their blades clashed quickly once more while they circled each other, they were both familiar the dance and they both knew the cost of misstep all too well. She would step left and he would step right, she would step forward and he would step back. Both of them were in pain but of them were oblivious to it as well. Stalemate.

She took action, stepped forward she whipped that gladius of hers around with lethal intent as Dale ducked as quickly as his old bones would bend before leaping forward, his free arm wrapping her torso as she tackled her to the ground as the likelihood of death between them grew greater.

.