31st Day of Winter
Midnight.
Darkness had a way of bringing out the worst in Nyka, or perhaps its true face, either way, no one wanted to be outside the charade of safety that were their homes at this hour. The moon was shrouded tonight, Leth heavily hemmed in by dark, lumbering clouds that promised all those beneath with more winters rains to come. Outside the warehouse, two men breathed into their hands and rubbed them together, their bodies a shivering testament to the wretched weather. One, a larger man with a shock of white hair, glanced to his partner, scarce more than a boy despite his scars, and grunted. His companion, Elias, watched the other with vapid interest, preferring instead to stare out at the darkness around him and scowl.
"First Nykan winter, boy?" His companion asked him with a low chuckle, rubbing his hands and clapping them together. A long sword was strapped to his waist and it dragged along the cobblestone with a grating moan. It wasn’t, but Elias looked over and shrugged anyway, mimicking the older man's futile attempt to stay warm. "What does it matter if it is or isn't?" He snapped, shivering.
"It don't." the other guard said with a wide grin, "But you're shaking like a leaf, boy, and anyone skulking 'round looking for a score tonight'll look at you first." Usually only the monks could roam these wretched street at night, but a few mizas in the right hands could apparently persuade them to take their patrols to other routes that didn't involve this particular part of the docks, place more deserving of their attention and all that. A few more mizas and they'd even ignore the fact that one was bearing sharpened steel in a city where only a quarter of the fighting force was allowed to even look at a proper weapon, let alone wield one.
Unfortunately, no amount of gold could turn away the creatures that seeped out of the aperture, nor the particularly brave or lucrative thieves who sought opportunity in the depths of darkness. Hence the reason for a very armed and very cold Elias to stand guard.
"Let them try." The Ravokian muttered, more than just a little annoyed at that word 'boy' already. "I won't be dulled by this petching weather.” The other whistled, low and long, looking up to the sky and sighing. "Best not anger Zulrav now, cold ain't the worst he can throw on us tonight. Besides, aint no sense in getting defensive, I was a whelp like you once." He paused, looking Elias over. "Not near as scrawny though. Must've impressed someone a great deal to get this job." Elias spat to the side, avoiding a chattering applause of his own teeth by sheer will alone. The night was just beginning to thicken. Winter had hushed the city, but it was the night that ripened the danger, filling in all the blind spots with shadows and luring out the darker denizens to play. The reimancer rubbed his arms again, watching the clouds move over the face of Leth.
The night was going end in blood, he knew it. He couldn't explain why, but it just felt... due.
Despite his apparent spell of foresight, the bells still chimed by without incident, filling up the silence between the two strangers. The other was uncomfortable, that much was certain. He shifted and moved almost as if compelled by some higher power. Elias, however, kept his movement to a constrained shivering even as frost settled down on the stones before them like spider webbing lines of frigid crystal at their feet. "Krios," The companion said after a particularly bad bout of fidgeting, "Krios Katan. I saw your bow there. You know my father was a bowman." Dark eyes flicked to the weapon in question and accompanying quiver arrows Elias had set down next to himself. “His father too, just like his father before him. Finest weapon in the world that, that’s what they’d say.”
"And you?" The question was prying, almost sardonic.
Krios held up his left hand, a twisted burned thing with only three fingers still wriggling on the charred stump. He shrugged his shoulders, drumming his right hand’s digits along the pommel of his blade. "A bit too ambitious in my youth, youngling, played with fire and paid the price. Been swinging a sword with my right ever since." Elias looked away, disgusted with the mottled thing, but Krios hadn’t been looking at him to notice, just gazing out at the street and maybe into the darkness beyond. "In Sunberth, you learn right quick there ain’t no excuse nor mercy for a man at rest. So this man took up the blade to keep bread on the table for what was left of his family. Now I swing it ‘cause I got nothing else."
"So you came here. Why not find a healer for that damned thing?" Elias suggested, momentarily distracted from the cold by the conversation. "Could have gone to Riverfall or Syliras if-" Krios was shaking his head before Elias had even finished. "No boy, no... I’ve angered the gods with my once enough with my arrogance. This old boy will pay for it with this here mark and the others like it. Let no man say Krios Katan didn't accept his punishment." This time it was his turn to spit. "I cry to no god to ease my suffering. I can manage well enough on my own."
Elias sighed, throwing up his arms in defeat of a battle he didn’t know he was fighting. Krios was... a strange fellow. All talk and gab but with the hint of iron beneath his ruddy skin. The man respected the gods but by the same hand rejected their help, almost violently at times, yet had somehow found his way to Nyka, city with more gods that most people here knew what to do with.
Respect yet sovereign above else. An old weathered thing this strange creature Krios was, beholden to none. Was there anything more Sunberthian?
Darkness had a way of bringing out the worst in Nyka, or perhaps its true face, either way, no one wanted to be outside the charade of safety that were their homes at this hour. The moon was shrouded tonight, Leth heavily hemmed in by dark, lumbering clouds that promised all those beneath with more winters rains to come. Outside the warehouse, two men breathed into their hands and rubbed them together, their bodies a shivering testament to the wretched weather. One, a larger man with a shock of white hair, glanced to his partner, scarce more than a boy despite his scars, and grunted. His companion, Elias, watched the other with vapid interest, preferring instead to stare out at the darkness around him and scowl.
"First Nykan winter, boy?" His companion asked him with a low chuckle, rubbing his hands and clapping them together. A long sword was strapped to his waist and it dragged along the cobblestone with a grating moan. It wasn’t, but Elias looked over and shrugged anyway, mimicking the older man's futile attempt to stay warm. "What does it matter if it is or isn't?" He snapped, shivering.
"It don't." the other guard said with a wide grin, "But you're shaking like a leaf, boy, and anyone skulking 'round looking for a score tonight'll look at you first." Usually only the monks could roam these wretched street at night, but a few mizas in the right hands could apparently persuade them to take their patrols to other routes that didn't involve this particular part of the docks, place more deserving of their attention and all that. A few more mizas and they'd even ignore the fact that one was bearing sharpened steel in a city where only a quarter of the fighting force was allowed to even look at a proper weapon, let alone wield one.
Unfortunately, no amount of gold could turn away the creatures that seeped out of the aperture, nor the particularly brave or lucrative thieves who sought opportunity in the depths of darkness. Hence the reason for a very armed and very cold Elias to stand guard.
"Let them try." The Ravokian muttered, more than just a little annoyed at that word 'boy' already. "I won't be dulled by this petching weather.” The other whistled, low and long, looking up to the sky and sighing. "Best not anger Zulrav now, cold ain't the worst he can throw on us tonight. Besides, aint no sense in getting defensive, I was a whelp like you once." He paused, looking Elias over. "Not near as scrawny though. Must've impressed someone a great deal to get this job." Elias spat to the side, avoiding a chattering applause of his own teeth by sheer will alone. The night was just beginning to thicken. Winter had hushed the city, but it was the night that ripened the danger, filling in all the blind spots with shadows and luring out the darker denizens to play. The reimancer rubbed his arms again, watching the clouds move over the face of Leth.
The night was going end in blood, he knew it. He couldn't explain why, but it just felt... due.
Despite his apparent spell of foresight, the bells still chimed by without incident, filling up the silence between the two strangers. The other was uncomfortable, that much was certain. He shifted and moved almost as if compelled by some higher power. Elias, however, kept his movement to a constrained shivering even as frost settled down on the stones before them like spider webbing lines of frigid crystal at their feet. "Krios," The companion said after a particularly bad bout of fidgeting, "Krios Katan. I saw your bow there. You know my father was a bowman." Dark eyes flicked to the weapon in question and accompanying quiver arrows Elias had set down next to himself. “His father too, just like his father before him. Finest weapon in the world that, that’s what they’d say.”
"And you?" The question was prying, almost sardonic.
Krios held up his left hand, a twisted burned thing with only three fingers still wriggling on the charred stump. He shrugged his shoulders, drumming his right hand’s digits along the pommel of his blade. "A bit too ambitious in my youth, youngling, played with fire and paid the price. Been swinging a sword with my right ever since." Elias looked away, disgusted with the mottled thing, but Krios hadn’t been looking at him to notice, just gazing out at the street and maybe into the darkness beyond. "In Sunberth, you learn right quick there ain’t no excuse nor mercy for a man at rest. So this man took up the blade to keep bread on the table for what was left of his family. Now I swing it ‘cause I got nothing else."
"So you came here. Why not find a healer for that damned thing?" Elias suggested, momentarily distracted from the cold by the conversation. "Could have gone to Riverfall or Syliras if-" Krios was shaking his head before Elias had even finished. "No boy, no... I’ve angered the gods with my once enough with my arrogance. This old boy will pay for it with this here mark and the others like it. Let no man say Krios Katan didn't accept his punishment." This time it was his turn to spit. "I cry to no god to ease my suffering. I can manage well enough on my own."
Elias sighed, throwing up his arms in defeat of a battle he didn’t know he was fighting. Krios was... a strange fellow. All talk and gab but with the hint of iron beneath his ruddy skin. The man respected the gods but by the same hand rejected their help, almost violently at times, yet had somehow found his way to Nyka, city with more gods that most people here knew what to do with.
Respect yet sovereign above else. An old weathered thing this strange creature Krios was, beholden to none. Was there anything more Sunberthian?
