• Memory • [Cycres] Of salt and swagger, Part One

Bandits attack Cycres while the Vy'ryn's are shopping.

Since the birth of the city, Ne'haer has struggled to maintain peace with the territories surrounding its borders. While some of the other territories work with Ne'haer in search of peace and protection in the region, others resist, determined to fight back against Ne'haer and what they perceive as an attempt of colonization. Ne'haer and the territories exist in a constant tug-of-war that threatens the very region.

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Pash Raj'oriq
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[Cycres] Of salt and swagger, Part One

Mon Nov 06, 2017 3:34 am

Saun 3, 708

Cycres, outside of Ne’Haer


"Let’s get what we’ve come for and get home." Traek spoke firmly to the two boys with him as they tied off the shipwright’s sloop at the docks, the man’s blue irises dark as he let his gaze linger on his eldest. His father made it clear he hadn’t forgotten his shenanigans of stealing ships and chasing pirates in Ymiden, "Both of you stick with me."

"Yeah, Pa’bo. At least remember to ask before you snatch something from someone else." Iyoas, Pash’s youngest brother, snickered. The little snot was just old enough to catch onto sarcasm, but still unable to wield it in a way that felt quite believable. He still had a mouth, though, and one that rivaled his older brother’s.

"Shu—"

"Don’t start, boys." Traek’s disapproving scowl was enough to silence the boys who, quite honestly, seemed to fight like cats and dogs any time the two of them were together. The shipwright had hoped that bringing them along would have been beneficial, but after the sail from Ne’haer, he already had his parental regrets, "Alright, let’s start fresh. What are we here for? List it for me, Iya."

"Uh." The youth, just a season older than ten arcs now, rubbed a hand across the back of his neck in thought, casting a sideways glance at Pash even as they all began to clamber over the railing of the sloop and onto the deck below, "Brassware for rigging. Glass floats. And, I don’t remember what else.”

"Pash?”

"Brassware. Glass floats. Three pulleys for that merchant ship that’s been sitting in dry dock for almost half a season." The older boy smirked, his maturing baritone bordering on the accusatory, "I think you should tell the smith where to shove his bellows and find a new one. There’s no reason to wait that long for three pulleys. He’s taking you for a ride, da’at."

Traek shook his head at his son’s impatience, the three of them making their way from the docks and into the small, rough-hewn town of Cycres after pausing to pay the harbormaster. The older Biqaj made a bit of small talk, if only because the man taking his dock taxes seemed a little on edge, the young human admitting there’d been threats of raids for trials. He grumbled on about Ne’haer’s lack of support again and while Pash’s father attempted to extricate them all from the conversation, they were all stuck there for several more bits, Iyoas picking his nose and Pash smacking the back of his head,

"Gross."

"Whatever."

"Thank you for the warning—" Their father was saying, sliding an extra coin in the man’s direction, which he immediately pocketed without even wasting time to glance around. Leading the two away with his calloused hands on their shoulders, Traek waited until their feet had traveled the cobblestone streets for several moments until he leaned closer to talk quietly with them, "—sounds as though there’s been some talk of trouble brewing again here in town. We’ve best get what we’ve come for and get home quickly, you hear me? No trouble."

"Aye, alright." Iyoas said quickly, his bright green eyes widening with swirls of amber in fear.

"What kind of trouble?" Pash perked up curiously, his lagoon blue eyes searching his father’s face without a hint of worry.

"The violent kind, son." Traek grumbled as if what he’d said was obvious. It had been, but the shipwright had no interest in giving more information than necessary to feed the boy’s insatiable hunger to know every detail,

"There’s been some bandits hitting ships further up river. Another reason that smith has struggled to finish our order, you see. Not everyone’s out to con me. There’s politics involved, I suppose."

"We can take a pirate or two. There’s some guards around, eh?" The eldest grinned, though the bravado that swelled like the tide in his chest washed over the shores of fear to allow those words out of his eager lips.

"I’m not here to fight pirates, just to do business. Come on, Pash, leave it alone and let’s get our supplies."
Last edited by Pash Raj'oriq on Mon Nov 06, 2017 3:55 am, edited 1 time in total.
Rakahi | Rakahi Pidgin | Common | Xanthean

Because of his Competency in Empathy magic, Pash exudes an aura of calm emotion that is always "on." While it's not strong enough to overcome extreme emotions and it also loses strength the more people he's around, it's still up to you how that affects your character in whatever situation we're in. PM with questions!
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Pash Raj'oriq
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[Cycres] Of salt and swagger, Part One

Mon Nov 06, 2017 3:36 am

It began while they were in the blacksmith’s.

Iyoas was touching all the tools on the wall, his back warmed by the forge. Pash was wrapping the three pulleys while his father and the smith talked next season’s business. The smithy’s doors were wide open to the baking Saun heat, the suns not too high over head but already scorching the ground, and the busy street outside was bustling with Cycres locals on their way to and from the shops and marketplace for their morning. A vendor was shouting, selling their food across the street from where the three stood, and for a moment Pash didn’t think anything of the shouts that began to come from further up the cobblestoned thoroughfare that made up the busiest part of the small town.

"Run!"

"Bandits!"

"They’re coming!"

"Someone call for the Blades!"

Traek’s body shifted and the two older men grew quiet, listening. The sound of more shouting, of horses, filled everyone’s ears and the smith immediately reached for a finished longsword,

"Go on. It’s on me." He growled to the Biqaj shipwright, inviting the man to a weapon because he already knew they had no choice but to defend themselves. The broad-shouldered man moved to shut one of his doors even as Pash’s father turned to his boys, drawing the daggers on his belt instead,

"Iyoas, stay here with your brother. Pash, hide."

"But I can fight, da’at." The older boy was reaching for an iron rod from a barrel near the forge, the rush of terror and adrenaline surging in his veins and ringing in his pulse, "Let me help—"

"No. Both of you, hide over there. I’d rather not fight at all if we can remain unseen." Traek ordered firmly, moving to stand with the blacksmith in the shadow cast by the closed door, ready to leap out and defend themselves if need be. The smith for his part seemed strangely surprised, as if he half expected the three to flee instead of stand with him. Pash frowned and snatched his brother by the hand, dragging them both toward the work benches and finding a spot to nestle in under the tables, tugging several unfinished hides down to create a curtain and hide them from view.

People streamed by screaming and shouting their warnings for another bit or two until finally a man on horseback rushed by, swinging his blade and catching one of the fleeing residents in the back, laughing at the carnage he caused before bringing his horse to a stop. He was burly and unkempt, and he turned and shouted behind him,

"Grab what ye can, ye maggots! An’ let’s go! Th’ Blade’s ‘re slow but they’re no’ stupid!" He stayed on his horse and threatened a wide circle around him with his blade, swinging without any hesitation to attack anyone within reach. The yellow-toothed, dirty man’s dark gaze fell on the blacksmiths and it seemed as though his whole countenance brightened, if that was all possible, Oi! Gorak, Rhob! Come with me."

With that the large man slid like a serpent off his horse, letting the creature snort and trot a few steps off. He drew a wicked, curved blade from his belt and motioned for two lackeys, one of which was very occupied with his arms full of a struggling woman, attempting to bring her to his horse and literally tie her on. Rhob frowned and dropped her, turning quickly to obey his leader instead of face the consequences. Gorak had a hatchet and Rhob drew two daggers, the three of them walking toward the smith’s shop even as the smith and Traek pressed themselves tightly against the door.

The two men inside exchanged glances, forming a wordless plan, and as soon as Rhob crossed the threshold and began to look around, the Biqaj shipwright rushed him without a second thought. Iyoas squealed in fear and Pash quickly placed a hand over his mouth, tugging him close, tucking them more behind the cover of the work tables and attempting to hide behind all of the leather. He bit his lip to keep from making similar noises of fear, however, for that was his father rushing well-armed bandits.

Traek’s shoulder connected with the shorter human, and he barreled the bandit across the shop with the sheer force of his strength, knocking him into a barrel even as the other two bandits sprung into action. The smith swung his blade at Gorak, his longsword slicing across his face and down his chest, for he had the advantage of surprise and was clearly skilled with the weapons he made for a living. Gorak gurgled in surprise and howled in pain, staggering back even as the bandit leader shoved him out of the way to bring his curved blade up toward the smith, letting his minion crumple to bleed on the floor of the smithy. He wasn’t dead, but apparently he wasn’t much of a fighter either.

Pash and his youngest brother watched wide-eyed as the two older men fought the bandits, an exchange of blows back and forth that the boys found hard to follow. Traek appeared much more powerful than his opponent, but the shipwright was also far more brutal and merciless than the aspiring musician had ever given his own father credit for, the man finally managing to get a grip of Rhob’s dark hair in his meaty, calloused hand and smashing his face against one of the anvils once, twice, a third time before the sputtering bandit managed to shove his dagger into Traek’s thigh, twisting it in a desperate attempt to get the Biqaj to stop.

Pash snarled and began to leap from his hiding place, only to have his younger brother grip him, begging him to stay with tears already streaming down his terrified face. The older boy struggled, hands curled into fists.

His father groaned and let go, stepping back to pull the weapon from his body while the bandit slid to the floor. For a moment, it looked as though Rhob was unconscious, but instead his fingers found one of the mallets near the anvil and gripped it, struggling to his knees and beginning to stand. Traek was slower, groaning as he tugged the dagger free.

"Da’at!" Pash shouted, rushing from under the work table, stumbling as Iyoas grabbed for his legs before retreating further back under the table in total fear, "Da’at no!"
Last edited by Pash Raj'oriq on Mon Nov 06, 2017 8:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Rakahi | Rakahi Pidgin | Common | Xanthean

Because of his Competency in Empathy magic, Pash exudes an aura of calm emotion that is always "on." While it's not strong enough to overcome extreme emotions and it also loses strength the more people he's around, it's still up to you how that affects your character in whatever situation we're in. PM with questions!
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Pash Raj'oriq
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Posts: 1204
Joined: Fri May 05, 2017 5:31 pm
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[Cycres] Of salt and swagger, Part One

Mon Nov 06, 2017 3:39 am

The boy leapt across the room, barely missing the swing of the bandit leader’s curved sword as he swung at the smith again, no one expecting the youth to appear from nowhere under a work table. Pash leapt at Rhob as he swung the hammer toward his father, fast and angry. He caught the bandit off-guard, the younger, smaller, lighter Biqaj shouldering into him and knocking him backwards over an anvil. He wasn’t heavier or stronger, but Rhob hadn’t been expecting him. The hammer swing thudded against the boy’s back: it was lighter than it could have been, surely, though it was hard enough that it knocked the breath from Pash’s lungs and he whined in pain.

Finding himself now on top of a bandit, the older, more experienced man began to twist his body underneath the boy, moving angrily to get his advantage back. Traek was shouting at him, tugging the dagger from his thigh and charging, but Pash couldn’t hear him above the sound of his pulse in his ears or the thump of his heart in the hull of his chest. The bandit was snarling, twisting his body to get another swing with the mallet still in his hands and the boy moved to block it, foolishly not thinking, with his right arm. The hammer connected roughly and the aspiring musician both felt the fiery surge of pain and heard the audible snap of his own bone, the sensation traveling through his whole body as the blow knocked him off the bandit and howling onto the floor. Pash curled into himself in fear and pain, though out of the corner of his eye he saw his father’s other dagger.

Traek leapt past him, bloodied dagger in his hand and once again engaged Rhob in close combat. For a moment, the boy could only see stars and a vignette of darkness around his vision, the pain in his arm which he knew had been broken so excruciating that he was sure he couldn’t move. As he grit his teeth and tried to keep an eye on his father, who was really holding his own in a way the boy had never realized possible of the man. The two wrestled and it looked as though Traek had the upper hand, though eventually the bandit tripped them both, intending to smash his opponent into an anvil, but the Biqaj shipwright had far more control over his body than he let on, twisting at the last minute so they both just ended up exchanging blows from the dirt floor of the smithy.

With his father and the bandit now within touching distance, Pash reached madly for the dagger still on the floor with his good arm, rolling his body with a groan to grasp it. Perhaps Traek saw his movements, saw the dagger, and snatched for it, amber eyes meeting his son’s for a brief moment even as they both heard the fighting of the smith and the bandit leader and the panic of Ioyas from under the workshop table. His father was too far and too occupied to reach it, and his calloused fingertips only shoved it closer to his son. Pash saw his opportunity, gritting his teeth to grasp it. Something like the heat of bravado filled the silver halls of his veins, stronger, fiercer, brighter, and he began to move without a second thought, the sharp pain of his arm eliciting a guttural growl of agony from him as he leapt toward the bandit pinned under the well-muscled weight of his father.

The shipwright's son was fast, powered by far more emotions than he was capable of processing in the moment, and he made his blow count, driving the pommel of the unbloodied dagger into the bandit’s skull once. Twice. A third time even as Rhob attempted to swing the hammer again, Traek catching his arm at the elbow with his free hand while his son did the work. Out of the corner of his eye, Pash saw his father squeeze the man’s elbow at a certain point and twist the bandit’s arm, having dug his rough fingers into a pressure point and stunned him with the blows to his head. Pash then reversed his grip on the dagger just as Rhob dropped the hammer with a hiss, the boy mostly blinded by pain and anger raised the weapon and drove it into the man's chest, clearly aiming for his heart but totally missing the mark, shoving the blade with all his maturing strength somewhere under the bandit's collar bone close to his shoulder. The hammer clattered to the ground next to Rhob as he made pained noises, with Pash wide-eyed and his heart attempting to claw its way out of the hull of his chest as the bandit gurgled in surprise, Traek’s face a terrifying expression of parental protection and determination as he landed a tight-fisted blow to the bandit's face, knocking him cold.

The Biqaj shipwright then reached for Pash's hand, uncurling his fingers from the hilt of the dagger still in the bandit's unconscious body, the boy staring at what he'd done with tears already. Arms that built ships wrapped the youth and a strength that Pash did not yet possess comforted him without words for several necessary bits. Traek then lifted his tall, lanky eldest as if he was nothing, though he staggered for a moment to stand with a wounded leg, attempting to sneak behind the combat that was still raging between the smith and the bandit leader, limping their way to the work table where his youngest was cowering.

Iyoas was screaming and the smith was growling, sputtering, and shouting at the same time, having driven his longsword into the bandit leader at the expense of having a cutlass rake down his other arm and slice his abdomen. The bandit leader stepped back, wounded but not dead, his dark eyes wide and angry. He then turned and half-ran, half dragged himself from the smithy, screaming that it was time to go, screaming for no mercy on the way out of town. His words were cut short by an arrow—the Blades had arrived and no bandit would make it out alive.
Off Topic
Part Two is here.
Last edited by Pash Raj'oriq on Thu Nov 16, 2017 10:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Rakahi | Rakahi Pidgin | Common | Xanthean

Because of his Competency in Empathy magic, Pash exudes an aura of calm emotion that is always "on." While it's not strong enough to overcome extreme emotions and it also loses strength the more people he's around, it's still up to you how that affects your character in whatever situation we're in. PM with questions!
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Zipper
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[Cycres] Of salt and swagger, Part One

Mon Nov 13, 2017 4:20 pm

@Posh

Overview

Da’at yes! Action-packed, nicely paced, with a whole lot of whimpering Pash: three things I'll never get enough of. I enjoy your threads, mate, and I'm looking forward towards part 2.

Points

XP: 10/10 (Cannot be used for Magic)

Fame:
+2 for the vile murder of honest blue-collar men driven to a life of crime by degraded cultural and socio-economic factors beyond their ken or control who probably had wives and mouths to feed too and im not crying ur crying its just onions okay triumph over the bandits. Praise justice!

Loot/Injuries/Overstepping

Nothing that hasn't been healed by time

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge:
Blades (Tamo Daggers): Pommel strike
Endurance: The pain of a broken bone
Unarmed Combat: Pressure point: elbow
Unarmed Combat: Using your whole body as a weapon
Unarmed Combat: Weapons of opportunity
Unarmed Combat: Emotion-driven response

Non-skill Knowledge:
Location: Cycres
NPC: Traek: Is kind of a bad-ass father
NPC: Ioyas: Pash’s youngest brother
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