Post by Unokins on Apr 12, 2015 19:52:20 GMT
Silkrock was an amazing town. If one was in the right places, that was. Fancy theatres made from dark rock, gilded with gold and dazzling metal work enticed the upper class to spend their evenings there, followed by a dinner of tender steak basted in the juices of sweet redberry and tart umbra berry and cooked to fall apart in one's mouth. The streets were fair cobblestone, cleaned and whitewashed every month. The black lamps illuminated the dark streets, and many people went about their pleasant and safe evening, chattering softly in the night.
All of that was ensured by the huge iron gate, polished and gleaming, and scores of Wardens that patrolled those gates. They marched straight-backed and stone faced. Most likely, their paychecks were partly due to how well they presented. Can't go about upsetting the delicate sensibilities of the normfolk, after all. There was no bribing the Wardens. One could only get in if one had the right credentials and the right connections.
At one point in her life, the Wanderer may have had those. She eyed the gates and the Wardens standing in front of it from under her dark green hood. They glanced in her direction. She didn't recognize those clad in the weaker Aluminum trappings. The Gold gilding didn't do much for them. They were weak.
They eyed her warily, and the Wanderer nodded, then turned away. It would not due to be recognized. The amount of uproar wasn't worth it. So the Wanderer walked down the street, her heavy boots clomping on the stone. Hood up, cloak pulled against her as a chill breeze cut through her skin, she headed to a place much more low-key. Where, even if someone recognized her, they would most likely leave her in peace. Hopefully.
Varik's pub - Stone in a Cup - was busy as it ever was after a long work day. Second Sun had already set, and the tables were crowded. Farmers, merchants, thieves. Everyone rubbed elbows here, and he was rather fond of the fact that class seemed to be forgotten the more one got lost in their cups. Of course, they would always have to be careful. Varik's bouncer kept an eye out for sneak thieves and wandering hands, but one person couldn't do it all. There had been more than one occasion where a patron would go home, lighter without their coin purse.
Hands shot in the air, accompanied by shouts. Varik filled steins, the alcohol frothing over the top. A slide down the bar, and they slid their coins to him. He swiped them off the counter and into his apron pocket, buttoned up to keep them safe.
Over the din of the chatter and music, he heard the ring of the bell as the wooden door creaked open. Varik glanced up. A new customer - one he had never seen before. The person was short in stature, but held themself with confidence. Shoulders squared, head high despite the dark hood covering their face. Under the cloak, the customer wore a simple tunic, dyed a deep blue, and pants that had been patched in several places. They hesitated before entering, looking around. Then they made for the bar. Varik frowned. The new comer didn't necessarily push their way through the crowd so much as glide through it. Jostling elbows were palmed, and pushed out of their way. When a patron, hearty with the spirits, swung an arm out to indicate just how big his fish was, the new comer pivoted, and dodged the movement with a hair's breadth between.
Eyes wide, the barkeeper couldn't take his eyes of the movements. It wasn't so much what the newcomer was doing but how they were doing it. Effortless. Like a hawk soaring, like a whale breeching the surface. Elegant. Like a dance; the newcomer sashayed as if the bar was their stage. Varik was almost disappointed when they sat.
"I'll have what's cheap, please. Drink and a meal."
A sharp inhalation. Varik hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. "Yes, sir," he said as the person - a man, by the timbre of his voice - pushed payment towards him.
"Ma'am."
Varik's hand paused over the money. "Excuse me?"
"Yes, ma'am," the person repeated. "No man am I. You gaze upon a woman."
Quickly, Varik nodded. "Ma'am. My apologies."
There was no indication that the woman accepted it. She sat there idly, gloved hands folded on the counter. Pocketing the money, Varik quickly exited to the kitchens. As he got together a bowl of beef and vegetable stew, cheese and bread on the side, Varik hesitated in returning. Just who had entered his bar?
But Varik hadn't denied serving her. So he reentered the commons, and slid the meal and a drink to the newcomer. She nodded her thanks, and was silence. As the evening waned, Varik kept an eye on her. No one joined her as she ate. Her motions were mechanical as she took a bite of stew, then drank to cool her mouth, repeat. As if eating was merely a survival tool. It brought her no enjoyment.
Varik frowned, and found an excuse to return to the bar to watch her. The hood hid a lot, unfortunately. Wiping down a dirty glass, he spoke. "Is my wife's cooking to your taste, stranger?" He asked, wondering if he had misjudged the woman.
"She cooks well, barkeep," she answered simply, taking another sip from the ale. "Give her my compliments."
"That I will," Varik said, nodding slowly. This conversation was going to be as difficult as pulling a rock-swallower's diamond teeth. "What brings you into town? Seeing anybody?"
"I am merely passing through."
"So business?"
She glanced up at him - finally - and he got a good look at her face. Nose tilted to the left, probably broken more than once. Sharp cheekbones. Her lips were thin and red, and there were no laugh lines around her mouth and cheeks. But her eyes. Sunken into her skull, and cushioned by shadows. He couldn't place what flickered across her face. But he saw it. In the shadows, it was easy to miss. But there, right above- It-.
"You..." Varik couldn't breathe. "You're the-"
"a Wanderer," she interrupted, and Varik swallowed his words. She locked eyes with him, and Varik couldn't pull away. "A nameless Wanderer. Who is merely passing through." The words were mild, but her glare searing. The Wanderer turned back to her meal. It seemed Varik had overstepped himself.
The door slammed open, banging against the wall like a blacksmith's hammer fell against the anvil. Conversation hushed and Reren stood at the threshold. He was out of breath, face red and chest rising and falling heavily as he gulped down air. But the grin was of pure bliss and excitement. He strode inside, two of his friends following behind, more winded than Reren.
"What're you making a racket for, Re?" Guld demanded, drinking deeply from his stein. "We don't need none of that from yuh tonight."
"None of you will BELIEVE what happened, though!" Reren said, hopping up on Guld's table, scattering his dinner with a careless placement of his foot.
Guld grumbled quietly. "Spit it out and be done!"
"Highdon Nox was hunting a stone swallower!" He announced, arms held out wide.
Varik stiffened. All the patrons turned to Reren. All but the Wanderer.
"He was?!" Guld demanded.
"Do you know what happened?" Syra asked, her voice high-pitched.
"Did he get the bastard?"
"Stop smiling, you smug ass, and spill!"
Reren knew how to hold attention. He waited until they silenced. "Apparently, one snuck into his mansion to steal from him," Reren said. He swept his hand in front of him. "Turned himself to mist as he flew over the gates and walls and to the mansion-"
The Wanderer snorted.
"-Then his muscle to stone as he soared up to the fourth floor and kicked down the window! But the Highdon was ready for the stone spittin' bastard!" Excitement was in Reren's movements as he wielded an invisible sword, and swung it through the air, hopping to another table. "Nine of the best Wardens were there to get that walkin' rock!"
"That must've been a fight fer sure," Guld breathed, stein held close. Others muttered quiet agreements.
Even as Reren swung his pretend weapon, he nodded. "Yeah! Though, listen. Despite their best efforts, the thievin' shit got away!"
The Wanderer looked up, a sharp intensity in that simple movement.
"How?!" Several people demanded at once.
Reren swiped up a piece of bread from a plate on the table he stood on. Rolled it in his palm and balled it into a tiny orb of dough. Then he held it up as if the most precious thing he possessed.
"The swallower had a diamond," Reren announced. The tavern exploded in shouts and cries. And Reren, fueled by it, popped the bread into his mouth, chewed exaggeratedly, and swallowed. As if energized, he leapt to another table, and another, swinging that pretend sword again. "Bop! Pow! Slice!" He shouted as he swung. "Wardens fought as hard as they could, but that cheatin' thief was too much with it all! They hurt him real bad, but..."
"But what!" Guld demanded.
"He got away."
Her voice, when raised, cut like a knife.
Reren frowned, his fire stolen. "How'd you know that, huh?" He demanded, hopping off the table.
Varik felt his guts churn. Kid had a lot of excitement in him, still. And those balled fists and sneering stare did not bode well for the Wanderer.
She finally turned, spinning on her barstool. She did not stand. "He ate diamond," she said. "He must have had diamond teeth. And they are not easily defeated."
The answer brought more questions than they answered. Reren stepped forward, trying to look under her hood. His suspicions played on his face, and the other patrons were nervous.
"And how would you know that?" He asked.
She shrugged. "I wander. You hear things. You learn things." Then she turned away from Reren, the dismissal curt.
"Hey!" The youth demanded, grabbing her hood. He didn't drag her from the barstool more so than she slipped off, following the motion of his crude yank. "Just who are you? You got rock teeth, too?!"
What happened next was so fast that Varik had trouble following. At one moment, the Wanderer was bent over, Reren's free hand balled into a fist, ready to strike if this Wanderer, indeed, was one of those rock swallowers.
The next, Reren was on the floor yelping, his arm twisted, hand twisted, the Wanderer holding onto it, thumbs pressed against the back of his hand as she turned it at an unnatural angle. Her hood had fallen, and straight black hair cascaded down her back. A snarl was on her face, though Varik was thankful she looked more annoyed than angry.
"No diamond for teeth," Guld whispered.
"But metal for eyes," Syra finished, her hands clasped over her mouth.
The Wanderer scanned the crowd, her thin lips drawn into a frown. Her eyes. That was what Varik saw. Her whites were a deep, dark grey, interlaced with clockwork and screws, cogs and gears. They shuddered, turning and working as the iris - made from a light lavender glass - expanded, and the pupil widened.
"Syn Fall," Varik breathed.
"The Thorn Dancer!" Junt shouted, pointing. "The Thorn Dancer is here to take care of the rock swallower!"
She had let go of Reren, and the youth stood, hesitantly backing away.
"Go finish the job!" He encouraged, his animosity melting away at the thought of being in front of THE Thorn Dancer. "You have your whip, right? Dance that bastard to death!"
Cheers rose, and Reren encouraged them. Varik watched, too stunned to do anything. THE Thorn Dancer was in his pub. And he had given her the cheapest food he had to offer. He was surprised that she hadn't struck him down.
"No."
The crowd hushed when she spoke, and all eyes fixed upon her.
"Why not?!"
"Are you a coward now?"
"Someone's got to kill that thing!"
She was unperturbed by their insults and demands. The Thorn Dancer adjusted her cape, and pulled her hood up. "It's not my job."
"You're a Warden, though!" Reren insisted.
"Who's job would it be, then?" Guld demanded.
The Thorn Dancer shrugged. "I don't know. Now leave me to my peace." It was unsatisfying. And the disillusion in Reren's eyes was clear. He turned back to his friends, sitting down sullenly. Without his excitement to fuel the crowd, they turned their back on the Thorn Dancer.
She headed to the door now. Varik chased her, pushing his way through the others. He felt clumsy after watching her move so gracefully. As she exited the door, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Panic sang through his veins at such an obviously foolish action. One didn't just grab a high ranking Warden so cautiously.
But the Thorn Dancer didn't strike him. She hesitated, and studied him with those metal eyes.
Varik cleared his throat. "Would you like to stay the night? I've got an open room, and surely you don't want to travel while it's dark."
The Thorn Dancer shook her head. "No, thank you. I am going to search for the gem-eater, and time is not on my side."
"But you just said it wasn't your job!"
"Yes," she agreed. "It is not my job to kill him."
Her wrist slipped out of Varik's grip like water.
"You should tell those kids I've retired," the Thorn Dancer said. "And push those silly ideas of battle and murder from their heads."
And she walked away.
Syn Fall spent a good hour and half wandering Silkrock's outskirts. Thorn Dancer. She hated that title. And to be so easily recognized. It was frustrating. But not many people wandered the streets so late at night, and she was thankful for that. It was cool and windy, and with her hood down, she took pleasure in the way it tosseled her hair.
The streetlights around her made the emptiness more inviting as the darkness was chased away. But they were unnecessary for her. Metal eyes were special. An adjustment, and she could see almost as well at night as she could in the day. So she felt no fear of moving down dark alleyways. Any mugger would be unfortunate if they met her.
Another slouched person. Passed out from too much drink, or from too much pain? Syn kneeled next to them and raised their head. Snoring. Booze breath. Not the gem eater. She stood and continued on her way. The diamond would have helped a little. But not for long. The gem eater couldn't have gotten too far if he was critically injured.
Another twist. Another turn. Another person. Syn knelt next to them, and almost lifted their head. The corner of her eye spotted it.
Shards. Glinting in the moonlight. Instead of touching the person, Syn picked it up and held it close to her eyes.
Diamond.
Her gaze flicked to the gem-eater. "So, here is the one Highdon Nox has it out for." She said. "Are you still alive?"
All of that was ensured by the huge iron gate, polished and gleaming, and scores of Wardens that patrolled those gates. They marched straight-backed and stone faced. Most likely, their paychecks were partly due to how well they presented. Can't go about upsetting the delicate sensibilities of the normfolk, after all. There was no bribing the Wardens. One could only get in if one had the right credentials and the right connections.
At one point in her life, the Wanderer may have had those. She eyed the gates and the Wardens standing in front of it from under her dark green hood. They glanced in her direction. She didn't recognize those clad in the weaker Aluminum trappings. The Gold gilding didn't do much for them. They were weak.
They eyed her warily, and the Wanderer nodded, then turned away. It would not due to be recognized. The amount of uproar wasn't worth it. So the Wanderer walked down the street, her heavy boots clomping on the stone. Hood up, cloak pulled against her as a chill breeze cut through her skin, she headed to a place much more low-key. Where, even if someone recognized her, they would most likely leave her in peace. Hopefully.
Varik's pub - Stone in a Cup - was busy as it ever was after a long work day. Second Sun had already set, and the tables were crowded. Farmers, merchants, thieves. Everyone rubbed elbows here, and he was rather fond of the fact that class seemed to be forgotten the more one got lost in their cups. Of course, they would always have to be careful. Varik's bouncer kept an eye out for sneak thieves and wandering hands, but one person couldn't do it all. There had been more than one occasion where a patron would go home, lighter without their coin purse.
Hands shot in the air, accompanied by shouts. Varik filled steins, the alcohol frothing over the top. A slide down the bar, and they slid their coins to him. He swiped them off the counter and into his apron pocket, buttoned up to keep them safe.
Over the din of the chatter and music, he heard the ring of the bell as the wooden door creaked open. Varik glanced up. A new customer - one he had never seen before. The person was short in stature, but held themself with confidence. Shoulders squared, head high despite the dark hood covering their face. Under the cloak, the customer wore a simple tunic, dyed a deep blue, and pants that had been patched in several places. They hesitated before entering, looking around. Then they made for the bar. Varik frowned. The new comer didn't necessarily push their way through the crowd so much as glide through it. Jostling elbows were palmed, and pushed out of their way. When a patron, hearty with the spirits, swung an arm out to indicate just how big his fish was, the new comer pivoted, and dodged the movement with a hair's breadth between.
Eyes wide, the barkeeper couldn't take his eyes of the movements. It wasn't so much what the newcomer was doing but how they were doing it. Effortless. Like a hawk soaring, like a whale breeching the surface. Elegant. Like a dance; the newcomer sashayed as if the bar was their stage. Varik was almost disappointed when they sat.
"I'll have what's cheap, please. Drink and a meal."
A sharp inhalation. Varik hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. "Yes, sir," he said as the person - a man, by the timbre of his voice - pushed payment towards him.
"Ma'am."
Varik's hand paused over the money. "Excuse me?"
"Yes, ma'am," the person repeated. "No man am I. You gaze upon a woman."
Quickly, Varik nodded. "Ma'am. My apologies."
There was no indication that the woman accepted it. She sat there idly, gloved hands folded on the counter. Pocketing the money, Varik quickly exited to the kitchens. As he got together a bowl of beef and vegetable stew, cheese and bread on the side, Varik hesitated in returning. Just who had entered his bar?
But Varik hadn't denied serving her. So he reentered the commons, and slid the meal and a drink to the newcomer. She nodded her thanks, and was silence. As the evening waned, Varik kept an eye on her. No one joined her as she ate. Her motions were mechanical as she took a bite of stew, then drank to cool her mouth, repeat. As if eating was merely a survival tool. It brought her no enjoyment.
Varik frowned, and found an excuse to return to the bar to watch her. The hood hid a lot, unfortunately. Wiping down a dirty glass, he spoke. "Is my wife's cooking to your taste, stranger?" He asked, wondering if he had misjudged the woman.
"She cooks well, barkeep," she answered simply, taking another sip from the ale. "Give her my compliments."
"That I will," Varik said, nodding slowly. This conversation was going to be as difficult as pulling a rock-swallower's diamond teeth. "What brings you into town? Seeing anybody?"
"I am merely passing through."
"So business?"
She glanced up at him - finally - and he got a good look at her face. Nose tilted to the left, probably broken more than once. Sharp cheekbones. Her lips were thin and red, and there were no laugh lines around her mouth and cheeks. But her eyes. Sunken into her skull, and cushioned by shadows. He couldn't place what flickered across her face. But he saw it. In the shadows, it was easy to miss. But there, right above- It-.
"You..." Varik couldn't breathe. "You're the-"
"a Wanderer," she interrupted, and Varik swallowed his words. She locked eyes with him, and Varik couldn't pull away. "A nameless Wanderer. Who is merely passing through." The words were mild, but her glare searing. The Wanderer turned back to her meal. It seemed Varik had overstepped himself.
The door slammed open, banging against the wall like a blacksmith's hammer fell against the anvil. Conversation hushed and Reren stood at the threshold. He was out of breath, face red and chest rising and falling heavily as he gulped down air. But the grin was of pure bliss and excitement. He strode inside, two of his friends following behind, more winded than Reren.
"What're you making a racket for, Re?" Guld demanded, drinking deeply from his stein. "We don't need none of that from yuh tonight."
"None of you will BELIEVE what happened, though!" Reren said, hopping up on Guld's table, scattering his dinner with a careless placement of his foot.
Guld grumbled quietly. "Spit it out and be done!"
"Highdon Nox was hunting a stone swallower!" He announced, arms held out wide.
Varik stiffened. All the patrons turned to Reren. All but the Wanderer.
"He was?!" Guld demanded.
"Do you know what happened?" Syra asked, her voice high-pitched.
"Did he get the bastard?"
"Stop smiling, you smug ass, and spill!"
Reren knew how to hold attention. He waited until they silenced. "Apparently, one snuck into his mansion to steal from him," Reren said. He swept his hand in front of him. "Turned himself to mist as he flew over the gates and walls and to the mansion-"
The Wanderer snorted.
"-Then his muscle to stone as he soared up to the fourth floor and kicked down the window! But the Highdon was ready for the stone spittin' bastard!" Excitement was in Reren's movements as he wielded an invisible sword, and swung it through the air, hopping to another table. "Nine of the best Wardens were there to get that walkin' rock!"
"That must've been a fight fer sure," Guld breathed, stein held close. Others muttered quiet agreements.
Even as Reren swung his pretend weapon, he nodded. "Yeah! Though, listen. Despite their best efforts, the thievin' shit got away!"
The Wanderer looked up, a sharp intensity in that simple movement.
"How?!" Several people demanded at once.
Reren swiped up a piece of bread from a plate on the table he stood on. Rolled it in his palm and balled it into a tiny orb of dough. Then he held it up as if the most precious thing he possessed.
"The swallower had a diamond," Reren announced. The tavern exploded in shouts and cries. And Reren, fueled by it, popped the bread into his mouth, chewed exaggeratedly, and swallowed. As if energized, he leapt to another table, and another, swinging that pretend sword again. "Bop! Pow! Slice!" He shouted as he swung. "Wardens fought as hard as they could, but that cheatin' thief was too much with it all! They hurt him real bad, but..."
"But what!" Guld demanded.
"He got away."
Her voice, when raised, cut like a knife.
Reren frowned, his fire stolen. "How'd you know that, huh?" He demanded, hopping off the table.
Varik felt his guts churn. Kid had a lot of excitement in him, still. And those balled fists and sneering stare did not bode well for the Wanderer.
She finally turned, spinning on her barstool. She did not stand. "He ate diamond," she said. "He must have had diamond teeth. And they are not easily defeated."
The answer brought more questions than they answered. Reren stepped forward, trying to look under her hood. His suspicions played on his face, and the other patrons were nervous.
"And how would you know that?" He asked.
She shrugged. "I wander. You hear things. You learn things." Then she turned away from Reren, the dismissal curt.
"Hey!" The youth demanded, grabbing her hood. He didn't drag her from the barstool more so than she slipped off, following the motion of his crude yank. "Just who are you? You got rock teeth, too?!"
What happened next was so fast that Varik had trouble following. At one moment, the Wanderer was bent over, Reren's free hand balled into a fist, ready to strike if this Wanderer, indeed, was one of those rock swallowers.
The next, Reren was on the floor yelping, his arm twisted, hand twisted, the Wanderer holding onto it, thumbs pressed against the back of his hand as she turned it at an unnatural angle. Her hood had fallen, and straight black hair cascaded down her back. A snarl was on her face, though Varik was thankful she looked more annoyed than angry.
"No diamond for teeth," Guld whispered.
"But metal for eyes," Syra finished, her hands clasped over her mouth.
The Wanderer scanned the crowd, her thin lips drawn into a frown. Her eyes. That was what Varik saw. Her whites were a deep, dark grey, interlaced with clockwork and screws, cogs and gears. They shuddered, turning and working as the iris - made from a light lavender glass - expanded, and the pupil widened.
"Syn Fall," Varik breathed.
"The Thorn Dancer!" Junt shouted, pointing. "The Thorn Dancer is here to take care of the rock swallower!"
She had let go of Reren, and the youth stood, hesitantly backing away.
"Go finish the job!" He encouraged, his animosity melting away at the thought of being in front of THE Thorn Dancer. "You have your whip, right? Dance that bastard to death!"
Cheers rose, and Reren encouraged them. Varik watched, too stunned to do anything. THE Thorn Dancer was in his pub. And he had given her the cheapest food he had to offer. He was surprised that she hadn't struck him down.
"No."
The crowd hushed when she spoke, and all eyes fixed upon her.
"Why not?!"
"Are you a coward now?"
"Someone's got to kill that thing!"
She was unperturbed by their insults and demands. The Thorn Dancer adjusted her cape, and pulled her hood up. "It's not my job."
"You're a Warden, though!" Reren insisted.
"Who's job would it be, then?" Guld demanded.
The Thorn Dancer shrugged. "I don't know. Now leave me to my peace." It was unsatisfying. And the disillusion in Reren's eyes was clear. He turned back to his friends, sitting down sullenly. Without his excitement to fuel the crowd, they turned their back on the Thorn Dancer.
She headed to the door now. Varik chased her, pushing his way through the others. He felt clumsy after watching her move so gracefully. As she exited the door, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Panic sang through his veins at such an obviously foolish action. One didn't just grab a high ranking Warden so cautiously.
But the Thorn Dancer didn't strike him. She hesitated, and studied him with those metal eyes.
Varik cleared his throat. "Would you like to stay the night? I've got an open room, and surely you don't want to travel while it's dark."
The Thorn Dancer shook her head. "No, thank you. I am going to search for the gem-eater, and time is not on my side."
"But you just said it wasn't your job!"
"Yes," she agreed. "It is not my job to kill him."
Her wrist slipped out of Varik's grip like water.
"You should tell those kids I've retired," the Thorn Dancer said. "And push those silly ideas of battle and murder from their heads."
And she walked away.
Syn Fall spent a good hour and half wandering Silkrock's outskirts. Thorn Dancer. She hated that title. And to be so easily recognized. It was frustrating. But not many people wandered the streets so late at night, and she was thankful for that. It was cool and windy, and with her hood down, she took pleasure in the way it tosseled her hair.
The streetlights around her made the emptiness more inviting as the darkness was chased away. But they were unnecessary for her. Metal eyes were special. An adjustment, and she could see almost as well at night as she could in the day. So she felt no fear of moving down dark alleyways. Any mugger would be unfortunate if they met her.
Another slouched person. Passed out from too much drink, or from too much pain? Syn kneeled next to them and raised their head. Snoring. Booze breath. Not the gem eater. She stood and continued on her way. The diamond would have helped a little. But not for long. The gem eater couldn't have gotten too far if he was critically injured.
Another twist. Another turn. Another person. Syn knelt next to them, and almost lifted their head. The corner of her eye spotted it.
Shards. Glinting in the moonlight. Instead of touching the person, Syn picked it up and held it close to her eyes.
Diamond.
Her gaze flicked to the gem-eater. "So, here is the one Highdon Nox has it out for." She said. "Are you still alive?"