An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

An interview with Soren

The cities and villages of Melrath are as varied and diverse as they come. The capital of Raelia is the the jewel of this western kingdom, playing host to a merchants, artisans, Aesir priests, as well as a cut throat political landscape dominated by the nobles of Raelia. To the south in the depths of the Myrkvior Forest lies Melrath's second largest, and oldest city, Fensalir. Here people have learned to live alongside spirits and the natural world by maintaining their loyalty to traditions laid down the first Melrathi. To the east lies the small fishing village of Noatun, and to the western mountains rests the Mer city of Verimeer, the brewing town of Alivilda and the alpine village Vormund.

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Njynqet
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An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 09, 2019 3:39 pm

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58th Vhalar 719¤

The procession through the streets of Raelia was a strange one for Njyn. After he, his oxen, and his wagon practically got shoved off of the boat onto the docks Njyn felt out of place. People stared at him on his wagon as if he were the last inmate walking from death row to the guillotine. Which struck him as odd but luckily he had a mate from the voyage here from Rharne that gave him a few hints about the… condition of the people in Melrath. Clearly the man told the truth when talking about the native’s xenophobia. Instinctively his free hand went up to his pointed ears, which were thankfully still covered by his thick, straight black hair.

The wagon plodded along, Brandy and Rum none the wiser to the Melthrathi sensibility, as they pulled up to what looked like the area where he would find his paperwork to prove he was a mage. Which he thought was absolutely a frivolity, he had never had to prove anything like that before and it was ridiculous that he had to. The stories common people told each other to frighten one another about mages and wizards was just astounding. Simpletons. In any case, here he was.

Obtaining the paperwork went smoothly and the woman inside even spoke some Rakahi, she looked to be a mixed Biqaj. She told him he best find an inn for the night as they didn’t take kindly to people lying about the streets. Also warned him about some people called “Myrkvior’s Kin” but wouldn’t tell him much more than to keep away from them. The woman was a beautiful lass and left his heart a little bit warmer. He kissed her hand and she blushed beneath the strange paint markings most people seemed to don in this land before getting up to leave.

Now it was time to find an inn. The first two inns he was turned away from.
“As if we have room for two oxen and a wagon! Be gone Outsider.”
His common was not the best but their tone of voice was good enough, he plodded on in his wagon once more both times. Not disheartened but more ready each time to find his place. They had made it to the southernmost part of Raelia and he was worried he wouldn’t see another inn. Still, it was early evening and he would have time to scour the city or at least find a place outside of the walls to post up for the night. If it came down to it he would sell his oxen and swap the wagon out for coin, as dear as this small bit of home was to him. But as it would seem luck was on his side. His wagon rolled up to another inn and he tried sounding out the words in common written above the door.
“De… AH-xss be-low... ”

He grinned to himself, moving some hair out of his face in a gesture of pride. The Ox Below? Surely they would have room for him and his pair. Situating the wagon off to the side of the street, slightly within the adjoining alley, he sauntered inside. Once in there, he would take a seat at the bar and wait to be spoken to. His demeanor is calm, confident, and collected. Njyn has many gaudy rings on his fingers and a slight smile to his lips.

Last edited by Njynqet on Wed Oct 09, 2019 6:51 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 589
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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 09, 2019 5:11 pm

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"You are free to choose,"



It was a somewhat busy night for Soren, as the lingering memories of the previous night's Singles' Event had caused a surplus of single people to surge their way to the bar, looking for one night stands or relationships. The thirst was heavy in the air, to the point of annoying Soren. There were so many pheromones flowing that it was an almost slimy feel on his skin. He wasn't sure if he'd do this again or not. Not one of his best ideas, though it had been profitable. Maybe next time he'd do it, and just take the night off.

He saw a long haired man, one he could instantly tell was an outsider, yet wouldn't be able to describe exactly how he could tell. Soren didn't mind outsiders, he used to be one himself. Assimilation wasn't so difficult, if you have thick skin and a strong work ethic. Soren moved along the inside of the bar, toward the new comer, eyeing the ugly rings on the man's finger for a moment before moving up to his face.

"You look like you've come a long way, friend. What can I get for you tonight? Our mead is always popular, though I've some local Sleipnir's Slobber to put some pep in your step or Noatun Blue to relax you?"

Soren wiped his hands clean on a rag in his apron, then stuck a hand out across the bar for the man, seeing that he clearly could use a warm welcome. Soren remembered what it was like to step off that boat for the first time. He remembered Sigviind. That bastard. "The name's Soren Kvistson. This is my establishment."

Soren looked over the man's shoulder, taking in the room, as he constantly did, when he saw the wagon parked outside. It had not been there the last time he looked, "That your wagon there? Do you use stouties or oxen?" Soren had spent the majority of his life in a caravan, and it was always nice to meet another caravaner.


"But you are not free from the consequences."
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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 09, 2019 7:43 pm

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A tall man made his way over to Njyn from the business side of the bar. He was bald with striking blue eyes, which seemed to rest on his rings for a moment before he addressed Njyn himself. Quite frankly most of the words confused Njyn, as they were spoken in common, but he understood "what can I get for you, friend" and something about mead. Njyn shook his head and waved his heavily ringed hand in front of his face.
"No, no mead yet. Room? I speak Rakahi, ye ken this?"
His face was obviously frustrated and his eyes changed color from their neutral orange and red to a violet and red. The color change looked like dropping splashes of purple dye in liquid until the color changed fully to the one it is now.
'I hate that I can't speak common, dammit. This is isn't going to end well.'

He thought to himself. Still the man seemed warm enough and extended a hand out to Njynqet. Which the biqaj took in earnest and matched the man's grip. The other man, Soren Kvistson, gave his name and used another large word that Njyn didn't know. Njyn paused for the slightest moment, wondering if he should assume his human alias, but instead didn't give a name at all. Instead of letting a lingering silence hang there, where the man might ask for his name, he said,
"Thankee say. Aye, me just arrive."
He switched to Rakahi.
"I don't understand common very well, aye? I am looking for a place to stay."

Soren asked him about his wagon and oxen, that was a couple phrases he knew. He again addressed him in Rakahi,
"I'm here from Rharne, just got off the boat breaks ago. Those are oxen, 'Brandy' is the female and 'Rum' the male. I have much more experience on boats than with wagons, I will admit. But I get around."
The words, 'Rharne', 'Brandy', and 'Rum' were in heavily accented common.
He said finally in common tongue, clearly trying his hardest to get the thought out. His head shook back and forth, long hair swaying as he used his hands and arms to speak. Moving his hands like he was trying to pull the words out of his mouth and head.
"Aye, oxen. Good pair. But me better with de boat dan de wagon, but we... crooze. Ye ken oxen? De Ox Below?"
He gave a smile to the man, it looked sly somehow. It was hard being new and although Njyn was rarely afraid there was a level of frustration and anxiety after being turned away twice already. Still he knew his charisma, language be damned, and would try to barter with this Soren for a few nights easy rest before moving on to his own place to stay. In common yet again he said,
"How de place be named 'Ox Below'?"

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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 09, 2019 9:50 pm

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"You are free to choose,"



Ah, Biqaj.

Soren dusted off his Rakahi, and prepared himself for communicating with the man. Who seemed eager to flip flop between Rakahi and Common. Soren's own Rakahi was rusty and was never too great but he was confident he could make do. The man was clearly frustrated from not speaking the local language. Soren didn't pity him but didn't begrudge him either. It was just something he'd have to work on, simple as that.

He smiled softly, their hands coming apart after the shake, in his broken Rakahi, "You. Stay?" He made sure to put extra emphasis to make it clear it was a question. "Trials. Number?" Soren was able to pick out just enough that the man had come from Rharne, and Brandy and Rum were names. He guessed the names of his beasts, though he still wasn't completely sure which kind.

Then the man switched back to common again, which was probably better than his Rakahi, but Soren always appreciated a chance to practice his languages. "Oxen. House. Yes. Over street. Trade-for-trade with man." Soren then grabbed one of his coin purses, laying out a few coins. He set a few together to one side, continuing in Rakahi. "One trial. You. Oxen. Food."

The man then asked about the name of his establishment, a question he was surprised he didn't get more often. "Mother. Tale. Oxen. Bellow. Tale. Truth. Always." Soren took his coins back, moving around the bar, coming up next to man. "Come. Eyes. Oxen. House."

Soren gestured to the door of the tavern with a smile, looking to walk with the man. Soren happily led the way, seeing the oxen standing nearby. He smiled at Rum and Brandy, loving the names, and he was fairly certain he could tell which was which. He didn't approach them though, not without permission of their driver. It was not a wise thing to do. Soren pointed across the street, "Come. All. Come."

Soren moved across the way, pulling his keys out. He didn't keep a permanent stables of his own, he wasn't close enough to a city gate to warrant it. But he did have a standing deal with the man across the street to use his old stables from time to time. The man used to keep several working animals, but now he just had one incredibly friendly goat. His grandson ran a feed and supplies store down the street, so he was always well stocked. Soren unlocked the gate first, opening it up, then moving in further and unlocking the door to the stables that was just barely large enough for two oxen. They'd be a little cramped but comfortable enough. It was warm, had all the supplies on hand. He turned, looking back to the man, shouting in Rakahi, "Is. Good?"



"But you are not free from the consequences."
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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 09, 2019 10:48 pm

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It would seem Soren did know some Rakahi, though very broken. Much worse than Njyn's own translation from Rakahi to common. He listened carefully to each word and the emphasis, trying to decipher the man's intention.
"Yes, stay! Exactly."
Njyn said in Rakahi, which he would speak from now on. He was grinning, finally a friendly face in this blue city.
"Trials? Give me five trials, I can pay. Aye, or work my way. I'm not the best at the wagon but I make due. It's easier than a ship as long as you care for your beasts and mind their step. Arr."

He looked at the man showing his coin purse and nodded. He understood and would pay the sum.
"You mother told a tale of the oxen who would bellow a tale of truth? Bellow. Not 'below'."
He laughed. Granted it was rather abstract but he was already interested. What tale could truth telling oxen possibly bellow? He had a mental picture in his mind of a large painted oxen crying a misty tune into the night.

Following Soren outside he and Njyn continued the conversation, the secretive biqaj patting his hair around his ears in a subconscious movement to make sure they were hidden. He was feeling much better now, his eyes making the same dramatic change back to orange and red. Something about this man radiated the same confidence that he, himself personally liked to hold. The way the human floundered with his words wasn't marred with indecisiveness but instead held a sort of candor that Njyn was sure not many else would have in his predicament. Under the man's behest he undid the two beasts from their lead and after patting them both on the neck he lead them to the stables. They trundled slowly through the gates, Njyn sparing a glance around him in slight wonder at this strange place he had found himself, before entering the premises. Upon inspection the place was small, but beggars can't be choosers. As soon as the stables were opened up both Brandy and Rum wandered into the cramped place, laying down together.

"Lazy beasts--"
He started but was cut off by the man shouting in his ear. Njyn's hackles stood on end and whipped his head around to see what was the matter.
"You alright? Bit quiet in here, maybe? Is very good. You said food?"
He gestured to his stomach which promptly growled, then his mouth. Now that his beasts were safe for the night he walked to his caravan, still parked beside The Ox's Bellow catty corner in the alley. He disappeared inside, a clang being heard along with some rustling, not like he had many things but he was not the neatest person. When he came back out he had in his heavily ringed hand his coin purse and would dish out the sum that Soren asked for. He would also pay the extra coin to drink tonight. It would seem he may have reason to celebrate.

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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Sun Oct 13, 2019 11:26 pm

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"You are free to choose,"



Soren started, not realizing that the man had just walked up on him when he was shouting for him. Soren accompanied the man to his caravan, smiling at the rugged nature of it. It was a well lived in wagon, that's for sure. Reminded him of his younger days. "Yes. I. Good. Food. Best." Soren wasn't sure about the man's intonation, but something about it made him think quiet wasn't what he desired. Perhaps this man had traveled alone for too long and needed some people to make noise. This gave him an idea. He took the coins for the stabling and five nights of room.

"Follow."

Soren led the man back to the tavern, but he didn't take the man to the front room, acting on his suspicion of this man's desires. He walked up the alley next to his tavern, walking past the well lit windows of the front room, then the kitchens, and finally walking past Soren's destination, the back room. "Come come."

Soon, they came around to the back door of the building, though to any looking at it, it was no different than any other entryway. For those who might not know better, they could confuse it for its own business. He pushed through the door, and the cacophony of people noise spilled out into the night. The noise of people talking loudly, singing, being generally rowdy. Soren beckoned the man in.

Once inside, the back room was bright, warm, and loud. Many of the seats were full, but Soren spotted a stool open up at the bar, and walked toward it. He was known here, the back room had more regulars than the front room. They made way for him. However, should his unnamed friend follow, he'd find that they were less polite for him. Some didn't move, others intentionally stepped into his path, and some intentionally shoved into him.

But if he managed to make his way to the stool, he'd find Soren on the opposite side of the bar, smiling, holding a key, "You. Name? Room. Key." After he had the man's name, "Drink? Mead. Ale. More?" Then smiling, remembering the man was hungry, "Food? Moose. Pig. Cock?"

Meanwhile, around the backroom, many eyes were on the outsider. They recognized him to be an outsider instantly on appearance, and confirmed it as Soren spoke to him in another language. They were all preparing their own Melrathi welcome. After all, this was the Back Room, and brawling wasn't just allowed. It was encouraged. But they would wait for Soren to be finished conducting his business with the man before any might consider striking.



"But you are not free from the consequences."
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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 16, 2019 8:37 pm

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Food! Njyn could do with a warm meal, his bones were tired. A nice warm meal and a rest. At Soren's behest he followed. But this time instead of going to the front he went around to the back. The passed the dining area with the rich bitches eating crab legs or whatever fancy Melrathian's so loved to eat. They passed by the kitchen which Njyn assumed was full of hectic cooks hell bent on getting out said rich bitches food to their hungry faces. To a door which seemed benign. No noise came out of it at first and Njyn paused, thinking the man was pulling one over on him. But as soon as that door opened Njyn's head whipped around and the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. Rings still on his fingers Njyn nervously cracked his knuckles and followed him inside.

Like legs spreading the overwhelming crowd opened up for Soren and Njyn was impressed. This must be an important man. He tried following suit but immediately was tripped by someone who stuck out their leg. He made his way to fall but someone blocked him with their chest and stood him up, roughly brushing him off. Njyn was giggling, brushing everyone off and patting them on the back as they finally let him pass. His eyes changed to green and orange in his excitement. Bumping shoulders with someone intentionally he finally made his way to Soren who said asked him his name and gave him his room key. This was definitely the place for his alias and if Soren was as well connected as Njyn was suspecting, he would not give his true name so easy.
"James Hankin."

The biqaj said, orange and green eyes studying Soren's face for any recognition or doubt. When Soren asked about mead or other drink Njyn tipped his head up and laid another coin down.
"Mead yes. And thank you. Cock yes? Chicken sounds great."
All thoughts of resting and sleeping the travel off were gone. His body was electric. The rude welcome was enough for him to know what was going on in here. It was a fighting ring or a dog pit of some kind. Go figure a fancy establishment has a pit behind it. In fact he grew up fighting, everyone, anyone. He knew the stench of sweat and blood and has worn it many times after a good fight. If it was fists they wanted, it was fists they would get. But after he took a deep drink of his mead and maybe a bite of chicken.
"Damn I'm hungry."
He said in Rakahi while twirling around and surveying the bar.
"You must be mighty important to get the respect of these men. You have my gratitude."
Nodding to the rough looking and painted Melrathian's around him, before taking the Soren's hand and shaking it again in earnest.

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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Thu Oct 17, 2019 12:44 am

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"You are free to choose,"



Soren decided to start trying to string some actual phrases together in Rakahi, it was tiring speaking in one word flows. And it probably made him sound like an idiot. Couldn't have too much of that. Still, had to try it to get better. "Well... meet. James Hankin. You calling no hear with Rakahi."

Soren grabbed a clean flagon, wooden. It was the only type they had back here in the Back Room. Broke less often and was cheap to replace. He set the flagon in front of the man, and nodded, turning back toward the kitchen. "Got any of the chicken left?" There was a clanging of pans and metal and swearing and all the other usual noises of a kitchen until Soren was handed a plate of braised chicken thighs with pumpkin and mustard greens.

Soren pushed his way out of the door, "I not important. I give beer." At this, Soren laughed loudly, before some movement caught his eyes. He set the plate of food down, but not in front of James. Instead, it was sat down and away from the man. "You find friend."

It was at that moment that a man, a large, blonde haired, blonde braided bearded man grabbed James by the shoulder and spun him around on the stool. This was immediately followed by a large Melrathi fist, adorned with runic tattoos striking James across the jaw. And that was the signal. The entirety of the patrons in the backroom exploded into violence, to the point of comedy, as though it were rehearsed before hand.

Men and woman alike, fighting each other indiscriminately. Old grudges settled, new competitions of skill and chase abound. Soren simply watched and waited, getting himself a flagon of mead, as chairs were used to bash, tables flipped, and the sound of battle echoed through the tavern. It mattered not who won each of the individual brawls, Soren always won in the end. After all, the rule was, the winner buys the loser a beer afterwards. And the winners typically bought one for themselves too, to celebrate.

He sipped at the mead, enjoying the sweet nectar, and watched to see how his new friend James handled himself.



"But you are not free from the consequences."
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Re: An Artist's Arrival; feat. Soren

Wed Oct 30, 2019 7:32 pm

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Food. Real food. Not boat skich.
Njyn made to grab for the chicken thigh but it was taken just out of his reach.
"You have friend."
Came Soren. Njyn says,
"Whaa--"
As his stool is spun around and he gets a fist to the jaw. The burly, grizzled Melrathian before him sized him up for a moment before bellowing common words that Njyn mostly didn't know, coming inches from Njyn's face. Something about a "farking fod-sack rookid outsider" was all Njyn caught and assumed the rest of it to be of about the same general candor, as spittle flew onto Njyn. Having not a drop to drink, Njyn was more surprised than ready to fight. His eyebrows rose at the assaulting man and Njyn went to grab his tankard that Soren had set in front of him moments before. The blonde wasn't amused and shook Njyn as Njyn chugged most of the beer in the tankard. Njyn's finger raised in the man's face as the blonde hunk of muscle roared, then threw the lithe Njyn off of his chair, tossing the remaining beer all over the both of them.

But Njyn was fast, clamoring to his feet and grappled the man who barely budged against Njyn's pushing. A sizable fist found its way to Njyn's gut and the wind was knocked out of him. But the alcohol was settling in now, as was his lust for the fight. Staggering back he shook out his hair, the thin, silky strands covered in beer. Someone pushed into him, another patron in the calamity around them, and Njyn took the moment to grab the tankard from their hand as they fell in front of him on their back. It sloshed everywhere but was unfortunately only half gone. Lamenting the waste of beer he charged the blonde who had his back turned, bored with Njyn so picking on someone else, and pummeled him in the back of his skull with the wooden tankard which shattered upon contact, wood and froth all that was left of the drink.

The man wasn't phased, or rather, only seemed to be angered as he slowly spun around with a knocked out man held by the collar of his shirt in his hand. His hair and shoulders were covered in ale. Fire seemed to come out of his nose as tall, muscular, and ugly fumed at Njyn, readying a war cry but Njyn didn't let him get one out. The biqaj loosed a ringed fist in the man's face and sucker punched him mid-roar. The man's head whipped back and he was stunned. Njyn threw a punch at his stomach but missed, arms had wrapped around his shoulders from behind holding him back from any further assault.

His legs kicked, he was buzzed now from chugging the beer, as he wriggled and shouted obscenities in his native language. A couple people took some cheap shots, once to the mouth, which split his lip and bled, and once to the ribs-- certainly leaving a bruise. At last, as blonde lumpy came to give Njyn's exposed body rattle, the biqaj loosed his arm and elbowed the man holding him in the ribs. Spinning around wildly to kick them in the shin, only to see it was a woman who had him pinned. He was having so much fun.

So it was one of those establishments. As Njyn got the ever-living-shit beat out of him in the chaos, while throwing some cheap shots and punches of his own, his drunk mind was reeling thinking back to his days as a kid getting into bar brawls for sport or honor. Except back in those days he had to actually goad someone into punching him. Not all were fought like that, most were in truth for moral reasons. But he would be lying if a few of his fights weren't done just for the pure sport of it, looking and itching for a reason to brawl. A tankard flew through the air, foam whipping behind it and with as much agility as he could Njyn caught it, spilling most of it down his front, but proceeded to drink from the last of it. The beer tasted disgusting. As he was smacking his lips in disgust another tankard came flying only to hit the back of his head, stunning him, covering him in beer, and he staggered back to his seat beside Soren in a daze. Slumping there in a defeated heap, not knocked out but definitely done with his space in the brawl.

word count: 784
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