• Solo • [Dust Quarter] even the rain can't wash the dust away

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Khama
Posts: 11
Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2018 4:07 am
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Profession: Criminal
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[Dust Quarter] even the rain can't wash the dust away

4 Ashan 718
The man's eyes washed over her, cloaked in suspicion and dripping with intent. Her hair was wet, thick and hanging over her shoulders and onto her small breasts like a shroud of red mange, and her dirty clothes clung to her form enticingly. Eddore knew she wouldn't sleep with him, but it didn't stop him from imagining what it would be like all the same. The man, whose shabby hovel was right next to hers, looked up at the leaking hole in the ceiling. The rains weren't strong, but they were enough to soak the woman while she was trying to sleep. Luckily, Siara hadn't joined her that trial, so the only one cold and dripping was Khama.

"Poxy spitch, s'wot et is," Khama said, glaring up at the small hole leaking down onto her ratty mattress. It was garbage, sure, but it was her garbage, and she'd be damned if some poxy weather was gonna take her garbage from her. Her stormy eyes lingered a little too long, and Eddore's eyes glued themselves firmly to her breasts, the outlines of which were now visible through her wet shirt. When her eyes came down, his darted away, but she was too clever for that.

"Can ye fix'et or no?" She asked, more interested in leaving his company than her roof at that point. Not only was Eddore too gangly for her, his laryngeal projection was too large and his teeth too rotten. She was a gutterchild, sure, but not like Eddore. The boy ate rats for fun, even if he could afford fish or chicken. His brain was mushier than her bedding, and she didn't want to give him the impression she was going to pay him with sex.

"Aye'p, I can. Whatcha got fer trade?" He asked, obviously interested in her body. She smirked, but there was no happiness in her face. Instead, she balled a small fist and stepped forward, the smell of dusty sweat coming off her as the cool rain pulled the grime from her skin.

"Ye fancy this is a tumblehut, jhi'nat?" She asked, her stance aggressive. Eddore took a step back, not speaking the Rakahi pidgin but knowing enough of its slang to know that she'd been thought a prostitute. He also knew that Khama punched first, asked questions never, so he held his hands up almost immediately.

"Aye'p, less say I owed ye one from that time ye broke Timbel's thumbs fer me," Eddore quickly muttered, rushing from the abode to fetch his meager tool kit. She walked to the wooden desk, barely standing and ruinous in its ability to give splinters, and poured a glass of the rotgut whisky she owned. The first sip brought a grimace, the second a mask of acceptance as she just leaned back on the wood, the creak from below her sending shivers as she anticipated the hard fall to the dirt floor. When Eddore returned, he was shirtless, his slight and muscular frame lithe as he entered. A single eyebrow arched, and the carpenter quickly made his excuse.

"No dis-respeck, but loose clothes'll get nailed t'the wall, Khama," he said, a dorky smile spreading across his ratty face. She just shrugged, instead moving from the main room to a small kitchenette area off to the side. She stripped the wet shirt off, nipples erect in the chilly mid-night air, and she slipped a dry top over her freckled torso. When she returned, Eddore was hard at work repairing the small leak in her ceiling.

"Ye want a drink, yipat?" She asked, pouring a small amount of the whisky into the glass. He looked at it warily, well aware of where he ended up the last time he'd shared alcohol with Khama.

"An' end up outside covered in dog piss? Nye, no' again," he stammered, his sapphire eyes narrowing to combat the wide grin growing on her face. She shook her head, slowly-drying locks shaking with her as she pushed it closer to him.

"Aww, stuff et an' have a damn drink, it'qaj. Promise ye won't wake up en piss, a'right?" She joked, pushing the glass into his chest. He reached down and threw it back, admittedly in a much more satisfying way than Khama had. He shook his head for a moment, sticking out his tongue.

"Couldn'ta gotten anythin' less ass, eh?" Eddore ribbed, tears rimming his eyes. It certainly was a poor quality, but who was she to judge. She could barely afford the garbage runoff that this whisky was.

"Never heard o' a man gettin' gunnel'd offa someone's else's booze an' complainin' 'bout it till the next trial," she said, winking, She took the next shot herself, and Edd went back to work.
word count: 835
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Khama
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Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2018 4:07 am
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[Dust Quarter] even the rain can't wash the dust away

4 Ashan 718
The suns were starting to rise, but Khama didn't notice. The shades were thrown open, but the gradually increasing light didn't register, even to her sensitive eyes. Edd, hand still clutching a glass half full of strong but awful whisky, tilted slightly to the left. The chair beneath him stood on two legs, dangerously close to toppling and sending the wiry man to the cold, dirty floor. Khama's lopsided grin remained on her face as her stormy grey-green eyes watched him, making mental bets with herself as to when he'd fall. She'd have said something to him, challenged him to remain upright long enough, but her mouth and brain were no longer connected. Tiller empty, she just stared, realizing that the pimply, rat-faced neighbour was likely her closest friend. Her stomach turned.

Slowly, so damn slowly, she raised her own glass, the brown liquid sloshing in it as she jerked, realizing she wasn't moving fast enough for her own tastes. She nearly smashed the glass into her teeth, such was the force of the vacuum of her desire to drink. Instead, though, she just threw the liquor all over her lips and into her nose. She coughed and sputtered, exhaling forcefully through her nose to eradicate the burning liquid from her sinus cavities. Tears fell from her eyes, though she was not crying. Instead, she was angry she'd wasted the liquor, and she slammed the glass back down on the table. This startled Edd, who jumped and fell from his seat into the desk, groaning as his full weight crashed into the creaky wooden furniture. He gasped and fell to the dirt, rolling around holding his ribs. Looking down, Khama temporarily forget her own misfortune and began to laugh at Eddore's.

Wrong move.

She laughed so hard her stomach turned again, and this time, she couldn't keep it in. She'd had smoked fish for dinner, the cheapest cut and full of soft bones that were uncomfortable but edible. She'd washed it down with a beer, spectacularly strong for the price, and it was heavy and foamy to boot. Going down, it was a rather pleasant meal for the gutterqueen. But coming back up, it was bilious and harsh, burning her throat as the remnants of the meal and the large quantity of whisky rushed back up and out, splattering the agonizing carpenter with a foul-smelling colloidal mixture of fish-flesh and alcohol. She fell to her knees, so powerful was the retch, and Edd merely groaned, too drunk to formulate words that likely would have been, 'Ye fuckin' bitch!' Instead, it was 'Oh, oooooh, mmmfff.' She took the meaning.

Collapsing on the floor next to him, the retching having weakened her significantly, she laid on her back and stared up at the dull grey of the ceiling. She knew there was a spot, slightly lighter than the rest, and she tried to focus on it. She couldn't though, as she couldn't get her eyes to do much more than spin rapidly around her. The drunk and in pain Eddore turned slightly, adding his own vomit to the mix on the floor as the smell and realizing he was covered in decaying food and drink hit him, which in turn made Khama retch and vomit again. This time, some came out her nose, and the two of them spent more than a few bits in a cyclical vortex of retching and gasping for breath. After about ten bits, though, Khama'd had enough. She clawed to her stomach and dragged herself over Edd, smearing vomit and tears all over her shirt as she dragged herself into the bug-ridden bed that was still saturated with water. Immediately, the cold liquid infiltrated her crevices, and she shivered. Moaning, she muttered something to Edd, who raised his head a fraction of a centimeter before it fell back down into the dirt. She said it again, this time more forcefully, and the man understood the groans and grunts were actually an invitation. It wasn't sexual, but Khama was cold and his meager frame might offer a degree or two of warmth. Edd pulled himself next to her, and tried to remove his vomit-stained shirt, but only succeeded in pulling over his face. He retched again, vomiting into the pocket he'd created with his shirt. By the time he extricated himself, it was in his hair.

Khama wanted to laugh again, but she'd lost control of her body. She shivered violently against Edd, whose pungent breath wafted over her and nearly made her add to the vomit now seemingly filling her tiny house. She kept it down though, instead turning her back to him and dragging his arm over her torso. His small hand grasped her breast, but she swatted it weakly, instead repositioning it on her stomach. He snuggled in closer, his manhood stiff against her, but he made no further attempts to seduce her. He honestly probably realized he couldn't lift his head to follow through, even had the fiery redhead finally agreed. Instead, he started snoring immediately, more loudly than Khama thought mortally possible. It was as if he was tearing small portals constantly as he slept. The thought brought a smile to her face, trills before she joined him in tearing tiny portals in the dream world in the forms of snores.
word count: 930
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Khama
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Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2018 4:07 am
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[Dust Quarter] even the rain can't wash the dust away

4 Ashan 718
There were no birds in the Dust Quarter. Most of them had better sense than to come to a place that could spell their doom. A stray arrow or dart could mean that the bird would spend the next break or two over a low heat, featherless and bare. Its fat would sputter, dripping onto the coals as it fed a malnourished man, or worse, his children.

Needless to say, there were no birds in the Dust. So there was no chirping to wake the two of them, only the rays of the sun streaming into the hovel. Edd groaned first, rolling over to drape a thin arm over Khama's shoulders. She awoke from the most fitful sleep of her life to Edd's nearly-hairless arm, indicative of his lack of masculinity. Her body tensed, and she tried to roll over to shove him off. Except her muscles didn't listen to her. Instead, the pressure in her head threatened to overwhelm her, and she decided to just lie there. She couldn't even muster the strength to tell the lugger to get the domains off her. Instead, they just lied there and cuddled. Just the thought was enough to make her shudder. Except she couldn't.

After a break, Edd rolled onto his back, the murmurs falling from his lips pure gibberish to Khama. He forced himself up on shaking arms, choking back a voiding retch to swing his legs to the ground. The faint smell of must emanated from the bed, a sure sign as to the wet bed from the night before. He stood and teetered, falling forward to fetch himself water from the table. The pewter jug, probably stolen, held enough for the two of them to have a glass, and he filled the glasses that held the liquor the night before. It was room temperature, but Edd had heard somewhere that it was better that way. He walked over and pressed the glass against Khama's hand.

"Otta drink, girl. Getcha straight real quick," he said, and she begrudgingly took the glass. "Gretyl tol' me it'd make ye feel better it it're warmer. Dunno,"[/b] he moaned, a hand shooting to his temples to try and press out the aching pain rolling through him. Khama grabbed his arm to pull herself up, but Edd's imbalance brought him down on top of her instead. She groaned and shoved, but he just lied there, in pain himself.

"Gerroff me, Edd. Fer a little guy, ye are heavy. Or I'm weak to-trial," she said, still trying to push him off. Edd finally rolled, spilling his water all over Khama and the bed. He yelped, but just laid his face in the bed. Khama took a gulp of her water, sitting up with her red hair hanging.

"Qes, ye're done drinkin' here, lugger," she laughed, shaking her head slightly. It hurt, but she just laughed through it. She signed and stood, wobbling as she made her way to the window. She shoved it open, the creaking hinges screaming back at her. The cool air was nice, but it made her feel sick. She leaned out and threw up in her sorry excuse for a garden, which was really just a pile of rocks. "Garden" was the term she used. It wasn't exactly accurate, and that's why she liked it.

"Alright then?" Edd asked from the bed, his voice muffled as he was face down. "Did we...?" He asked, turning his head to look at her back. She shook her own, mane moving slightly.

"In yer dreams. Getcher ass offa my bed an' outta here. We're square," she said, straightening herself and picking up her coat off the table. He stared at her, and she nodded. "Now. I've got work to do," she explained, pointing out the door. Edd slowly made his way, and they both left, Edd to presumably cry in a puddle of vomit, and Khama to find something to break into and burgle. Potato potato.
word count: 698
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Alistair
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[Dust Quarter] even the rain can't wash the dust away

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Khama


Knowledge
Discipline: Combating the craving
Discipline: Forced celibacy
Endurance: Withstanding the cold while wet
Endurance: Battling a hangover
Medicine: Water helps hangovers
Resistance: Resisting the feel of alcohol

Eddore: Next door neightbour
Eddore: Fixed your roof

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A
Devotion: N/A

Points: 10

Comments: I really liked reading that! First off, your template's color scheme and font are nice and make your writing easy and pleasing to read. I also really like your dialogue and descriptiveness. Good job!
word count: 87
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