The Worst Taste in Men (Gural)

[Sulavik]

8th Spring 511AV Since Solat, Sulavik had become that much more reckless. In an attempt to take his mind off of that conniving human, he drank more. He smoked more. He hung around in lonely, dark alleys more. He did all three at once. But everytime he did all this, it all came back to the fact that it was because of Solat he was. Everything he did nowadays, was because of Solat. So it was time to get his mind off of Solat. Having hung around the Silver Sliver Tavern on this night, getting drunker and drunker, he had finally met a man. He was quite an attractive man. He was muscled, tattooed, dark features. Everything Solat was not. The only similarity the two shared was the gleaming smile they both had, a smile of mischievous nature, of mystery and allure and charm. Everything Sulavik did not have. It made sense he was allured to such. Hiram he said his name was. Sulavik later would say he did not remember the conversation, and in all truthfulness, he did not. Did it matter, though? It was clear what Sulavik wanted from him. He wanted to replace that time with Solat. So that the Betrayer was not his only. It was only to be quick and to the point - no messing around. Hiram understood that, apparently. The gleam in his eyes was not an innocent one - it was certainly seductive. Sulavik did not fall hard, but he did lust hard. It was not long before they both stumbled out of the tavern. There was no ridiculous hand holding, that was for women and those in love. "Here," Hiram panted, seemingly affected. He pulled Sulavik into a dark and dank alleyway, not far from the tavern. He shoved Sulavik back against the wall, ran his hands down his chest, and pressed him back. Sulavik hit his head hard against the brick. It hurt, but was secondary to where Hiram's hands were right now, playing along the hem of his leggings. Suddenly, Hiram lent forward and began kissing Sulavik with fervour. The kissing and thrusting of hips was intense, and it was not long before both Sulavik and Hiram cried out in lust and completion. It was hot, heady and what Sulavik needed. Panting, he smiled up saucily at Hiram. "Thank you--" was all he got out before a sudden fist plowed its way into his nose. He could feel it crack, breaking under the powerful thrust of Hiram's arms, felt the blood begin to flow immediately. His head swam, and he cried out. "WHAT THE PETCH IS YOUR PROBLEM?" Again, a fist slammed into Sulavik, this time in his stomach. Moaning, he doubled over, and fell to the ground, his head throbbing too much for him to step up and attack back. With every kick to Sulavik's stomach, Hiram shouted out. "You did not think I did this for fun, did you? FOOL. You trust too easily. Now, excuse me while I help myself to both your blood, your pain -- and of course, your money." Sulavik could only groan, bleeding on the ground, as Hiram's kicks continued to rain down. Any longer, and a broken rib would be likely. He simply could not summon the energy to stand and fight back.

[Gural]

OOCSorry it took me so long. When he said he needed some time on his own a couple of years back, Gural never thought his solace would take him this far north. Ravok wasn’t really a pleasant place, if anything it was less. It was a weird life for an Akalak here. His head had to be down, his pride subdued and he had the constant awareness that he could easily become a slave at any given moment. The place was crawling with servants of god and man alike, but still none of them seemed to be even remotely connected to anyone or anything he had known. Rhysol had built a magnificent town in terms of architecture, yet it seemed so stale and damp when compared to Riverfall. Gural knew he was biased in his opinion, but it didn’t matter; Riverfall was home, and there was no place like home. Corak on the other hand seemed to enjoy seeing new places, and didn’t mind when their body got lost again and again. They were close to what they thought was Nitrozian Plaza when Corak got bored. “Come on, chin up, it isn’t so bad!” the man proposed, but after getting no answer, he quickly got to the point. “Chin up, damn it! I can’t see a thing like this! What is so damn interesting about cobble stones?” Gural still didn’t reply, instead he just raised his head up and continued with the walk. He was in no mood to argue at the moment, and appreciated any peace he could get out of a few short term deals with Corak. Something interesting finally came to mind, or rather ears. Sounds of heavy breathing mixed with groaning were accompanied with what seemed to be blunt noise. If Gural didn’t know better, he would begin to suspect that there was a fight going on under his very nose. It would be against his nature not to try and at least tell the parties involved away from the deed, so he went along into the alley. What he saw however was not only irrational beyond an understandable point. There was an Akalak on the ground that far surpassed Gural in height, and by the looks of it, strength too. So how could someone so great fall against a buff human… it just didn’t make any sense. Normally he would start off slowly, trying to solve the conflict with words of the stupid human tongue, but he was much too proud of blue skin as his blood boiled. Without even as much as a single warning, not caring that he may have been standing too close to make a surprise attack after everything; he simply extended his leg forward into a direct kick. The top of the foot, just under the toes was aimed at the neck, but with the speed of the blow it seemed to have its trajectory diverted into the chin.

[Sulavik]

OOCYou can control Hiram as an NPC too! Sulavik saw another leg get thrown into the mix. He was on the ground, curled up, groaning, as kick after kick rained onto his back, his sternem, his legs and arms. He tensed for each and everyone, and his mind sank down to his knees as he saw the other leg throw a kick. He tensed, waiting for the pain. GET UP AND ATTACK. Hurts... He waited, tense, for the blow to fall - but it never did. A cry of pain became mix with Sulavik's moans, but it did not come from his own mouth. He was confused, wondering if somehow, without knowing, makil had taken control without the rush of emotions and that's why he did not feel the cry.... but that made no sense. With an effort, he looked up, trying to figure out what was happening. He smiled weakly, not quite sure if it was a hallucination, but things it seemed had begun to look up. Hiram was bent over double, holding his chin in pain, having cried out at his attacker. "What the petching shkye!" he cried at the newcomer, indignant. And the newcomer was what made Sulavik so sure it was a hallucination, for standing before him - not nearly so tall as Sulavik himself - was one of those beloved blue skinned Akalaks. Surely this could not be real. Surely it was Sulavik hoping for one of his own kind. Akalaks did not come to Ravok, it was a known fact that onyl Sulavik would be stupid enough to do so. You're a petching loony, of COURSE he's real. Sulavik groaned, pushing himself up. There would be extensive bruising all over his torso, front and back, tomorrow. His head swan from the pain of his broken nose, but none the less, he struggled into a sitting position, looking at the two before him. He grinned weakly. He was too weak yet to join the fight, but he could spurn his kinsman on. "Akalak pride," he whispered, grinning, still not entirely sure this was real. He gave a little cheer afterwards, encouraging the Akalak to keep beating up that jerk Hiram.

[Gural]

OOCSorry for being late, also, my next reply will be late as well. The human was thrown back easily, and just when Gural was about to keep pushing back the silly man, the fallen Akalak voiced what he thought was a cheer. Had the duo not arrived for an especially different reason, they would have been bashing Sulavik’s face in. How could any human dare approach a blue skin? How could the blue skin lose? Questions took up most of his attention, and Gural was not able to see the man getting up, but he was still conscious enough to dodge the kick that seemed to aim for his right kidney. What have you gotten us into? Kill him already and let us be done with it! Shut up! I thought you said anything would beat cobblestones? Well, we are here to be beat that, or in this case him! When you put it that way, not even I have an objection. Still, you might want to knock some spirit back into that blue loser on the ground! Evading the first blow was easy. The tricky part came once the human had begun to aim his kicks towards Gural’s abdomen. The Akalak evaded one kick, and the other, and another; but when the fourth one came, he was much too impatient and rushed into the attack almost blindly. Consequences however were not as mild as the reason behind this ill tempered outburst. Because of his pride, Gural was unable to dodge the blow, and while the pain from it connecting became a harsh reality all too quickly; it still gave him the chance to grab the leg just above the foot. Using all strength and balance that he could muster in the given moment, he started spinning the stranger as he cursed words that never reached any ears. His head was getting dizzy and his legs were begging to feel weak for the loss of balance as the stranger was sent flying further into the dark. Leaning onto a nearby wall, Gural was waiting for something to happen, or for his senses to return completely so he could force the occurrence.

[Sulavik]

Sulavik paused, breathing deeply. The ribs would be brusied heavily tomorrow, but it was not something that would stop him getting up now. Makil was right, he did need to get up and fight back. The arrival of another Akalak in Ravok - seemingly so unlikely and strange - almost acted as a wakeup call to him. Yes, he had killed his uncle, yes, he was gay, and yes, he was a traitor to the race - but he still held the blue tone of their race and he was still Akalak. He needed to reflect that. He breathed hard as he watched the Akalak dodge a kick, and a grin rose to his face. Hiram - he barely knew him. He didn't want much from him. But things had turned bad fast and there was no saying what might have happened had not a member of their kindred turned up and reminded him what an Akalak did - they fought back. His ribs hurt, they were screaming out in pain, but he still proceded to move. Pressing back heavily against the wall, he breathed hard and watched Hiram carefully. The kicks continued to miss as Sulavik continued to rise. As he finally rose into a standing position, leaning heavily back against the mangy wall as he practiced pulling air into his bruised lungs, he winced for the Akalak as a kick connected in the stomach. But rather than doing what Sulavik had done, and Makil seemed to have both pride and disgust at Sul while this occured, the other blue skinned grabbed the foot in a skilled move, and began to twist it. Sulavik watched with open mouth and growing admiration and jealousy as the Akalak began to spin the bastard human around in circles, not without considerable effort. Sulavik could hear a shout and a crash as Hiram was flung into the darkness at the end of the alley, and presumably hurled against a stone wall. Sulavik pushed himself up off the wall just as the other Akalak slumped against it. That was a good fight. Why the petch can't you be like that? Uh, I was disconcerted and in pain, perhaps that was why? He could feel Makil's disgruntled attitude at the back of his head, but he watched the other Akalak curiously. He looked behind him, into the dark, waiting to see Hiram rock out of it - but it was silence, except for an oddly high pitched keening of pain. He hesitated. Did he go and see what Hiram was up to? Or did he talk to the Akalak? He chose the safe version - he had already been hurt enough. He needed to make sure he was not again. "Thank you, for helping out. It was dishonourable for me to lose." He said this slowly and clearly in Tukant, hoping their home language and recognition of Akalak values would assuage the sure-to-come lecture. Though the Akalak had likely saved his life, Sulavik would just as easily stab him in the stomach if he asked for his Lakan. "I would be happy to talk after, but I must deal with Hiram first. You coming?" His tone was lightly jovial as he gestured into the darkness behind him, where Hiram lay now groaning and muttering.

[Gural]

OOCI am sorry that took more than expected. Also, I have fixed what caused confusion on your end before; hope that eases reading the post! Even without complete balance or sense for direction, Gural was still furious because of all three idiots. Sure, the blue giant was a disgrace by losing, the human made him angry because he more than likely instigated the fight, and then there was him; meddling into what shouldn’t exist in the first place. When he heard his kin adding onto his already tarnished reputation, even the peaceful Akalak was close to beating him into the ground. Corak sensed that, and he was actually giving off good vibes. Just as his feet became useful again, the stranger said something that only agitated the man further. Stepping between his kin and the groaning human, he was confident that he could endure beating them both if it meant stopping the nonsense. “This fight is over! You already lost and you will stop now, or I will stop you!” he didn’t plan on yelling, but he was furious enough to surprise himself. Oh, come on, don’t be such a killjoy! You will be quiet as well! Looking at the Akalak, he continued: “You will let him leave, or you will be fighting me! You can choose now, but do choose wisely; I won’t go easy on you should you pick the wrong path” Gural was more than assured that he was ‘persuasive’ enough to get the other man’s attention. “So what will it be?“

[Sulavik]

Sulavik was surprised to feel anger rising up through the pain; what was even more surprising was that it was not, in fact, Makil's anger. It was an anger that rose from the join in souls, from where both Makil and Sulavik touched, from where they shared emotions and thoughts and values and ideas. They were both angry at this Akalak, Akalak though he was. And they could tell he was angry at them. Punch him in the petching face, hissed Makil, ever ready for violence to be the immediate answer. People assumed that Sulavik was the lighter soul, and that was true. But they assumed that mean pacifistic, gentle, kind ... that was not. Though Sulavik was indeed a lot more understanding than Makil, he had no objections to killing his uncle and would have no objections to killing this Akalak before him. Patience, Makil, he murmured, his words soft and snakelike in his head. We are in pain and couldn't win now. But I'm not letting this arrogance slide. Sulavik was not the kinder one, he was simply the one who was more likely to take his time. The other Akalak's words were angry, his volume loud, slicing through the moans that still resonated from Hiram's lips in the darkness. An eyebrow was raised, and Sulavik, momentarily forgetting the pain in ribs and drawing himself up to his fulll considerable height. He towered a foot over the other of his race. Makil's voice and Sulavik's voice came out mingled in one, sinister and deadly. It was not as outright angry as Makil's, but it was not as passive as Sulavik's. The words sent chills up their spines. "You defend the one that endangered one of your race, do you, helioc?" Sulavik towered over him, and he took a menacing step towards the Akalak. "Do you have so little pride in your own heritage that you would let this scum go free in Ravok?" He gestured into the darkness. "Men like that are a pestilence, and we are required to purge them, cerulest. What say you?"

[Gural]

OOCI am sorry that took more than expected. Gural almost laughed at the Akalak that towered over him. Was he serious? Challenging Gural and Corak, and at such close quarters too. The man’s gaze fell from Sulavik’s face and onto his neck, and if only for a second, it felt like pleasant thought; punching him in the neck, that is. Gural found the man in front of them so trivial, that he even let Corak return the insults. “Endanger my race? Helioc?” the voice wasn’t calm anymore; it was annoyed and much deeper than before. “I don’t know who was so limp that he needed to be saved from a mere human!” there Corak was cut off but not by his will. “I have pride enough, young fool; just none so easily moved. Pestilence? Purge? Does your poor mind even know the meaning of those words? Be careful of what you speak before me Cerulean, we might be of the same holy union and wear the same skin. Still, that does not make you worthy of our colors! Don’t mistake this patience for weakness, stand down or I will force you to do so!” it was so long since Gural actually found a member of his own race that could annoy him so much. Fun, eh? Shut up! All he could do was wait for the taller man to reply, as he was more than ready to respond with violence should that choice be forced onto him.

[Sulavik]

Sulavik and Makil only felt their anger rising with every word the other Akalak spoke. The Akalak, Sulavik decided right there and then, were blind idiotic fools. They complained that they were a race dying out, but they did nothing to stop that which caused it. It was all the human's fault. Sulavik didn't really have evidence to back this up, now that he thought about it, but he was sure that somewhere along the line, the reason for their races' dwindling prospects belonged with the humans. That, and Sulavik was kind of racist. But it irritated him that the humans would do nothing to protect their race! And it angered Sulavik above all that the other of his kind called him a cerulean. Makil rose up, pure anger and rage and passion. The soul that killed his uncle, and was training in this dark city to kill his father too. If he could kill both of his family with so little guilt, he could kill this one of his race, too. Reaching down, he tugged his Lakan out of his pocket with a spine-chilling slick of metal against the scabbard, and held it almost casually, as if it were a passing fancy. With a sigh, he traced the tip of his Lakan down his forearm, a light scratch appearing from where the tip touched skin. When he spoke, despite Makil controlling the actions, Sulavik and his voice were still intermingled. "Does my face have tattoos, dear brethren? Do you see any dark marks covering my face? No?" His voice was light, as if he were holding a perfunct conversation, but the words and tone were dark and sinister. "No? Then how am I a Cerulean? I am not a Cerulean until I have been marked such, brother." He hissed the word brother with such derision. "You have no idea of the circumstances that have led me to this junction in life, Akalak." And the word Akalak ... as if it were an insult. "You do not know of the hardships that I have been through. And it was people like you that brought me here. Unmoving, unchanging, unthinking Akalaks are the reason that we are dying out. If you do not change, you will die." Makil brought the Lakan up and waved it once over his face, and then suddenly everything changed. Sulavik took over their mind, and Makil, astonishingly, let him. "I have no intention of fighting you, brother." His voice was filled with disappointment, as if pitying the other Akalak. "But nor do I ever want to see your petching face again. If we do meet on these dank streets again, I hope, for your sake, you have learnt what solidarity means." Sulavik bowed his head, and sighed, then turned to walk up the alley way, as if leaving the scene behind. "I pity you, blue skin. I think you need to wake up to what the petch life really is. The walls of Riverfall are guarded well. Real life does not affect us there."