• Mature • [Volta] Blood, Water, and Light

[Kasoria]

1st Trial, Ashan, 719a
Volta, South-West of Rharne
Just before sunrise

Continued from here

It was a short walk from his lodgings to the dock, but the little man took his time. These infant breaks before the day truly began... they always reeked with potential. As if the whole world was yawning and stretching and willing fresh life into sleepy muscles. Around him a plethora of workers, travelers, sailors, alchemists, watchmen, vendors, and vagabonds trickled into the streets. The marvelous lightning lamps lit his way for every step, but even they could not disguise the paling of the distant sky.

Kasoria smiled as he looked to the horizon, and looked about him. Everyone else was doing the same: sneaking glances, hope wet and bright in their eyes. Thirty trials and thirty nights of darkness. An unnatural state for humans, for any race save a handful across the world. Now it was at an end, and Kasoria could already hear the faint, muted sounds of celebrations being prepared.

The little man kept pace with the flow of pedestrians. Winding his way through the cobbled streets until he felt wood clack under his boots. Stone and brick was replaced by floating wood and rolled-up canvas. Sea salt and rotting fish. Roaring sailors preparing their vessels, eager as anyone else to set sail under the glare of the suns once again.

"Fuck me, the Cap'n wasn't kiddin' about you, wuz 'ee?"

Kasoria gave the leering, chuckling handful of sailors at the bottom of the gangway a once over without any apparent malice. The usual collection of ocean-faring riffraff he'd met a thousand times before. Passing a bottle around, skivving off their duties, enjoying a breakfast of cheese and hard tack biscuits as they waited for the sunrise. He looked to the wallowing brig next to them, and saw the figurehead. A beautiful lady, clutching dice in one hand, and a fan in the other.

Looks to be the one.

"Lemme guess," he said with a slight sigh, "That I was a little bastard with a big mouth?"

Another round of chuckles. Oh, yes. So amusing. The apparent leader lurched upright and wandered over, smirking down at Kasoria. The Etzori looked placidly back and contented himself by counting the ways he could make the sailor soil himself with a single punch. He'd gotten up to double digits by the time the man spoke again.

"Somethin' like that, yeah. Says yer gonna take on two of the sellswords, the best two, an' come out on top."

"That was the deal."

"Well..." The sailor tipped back the bottle and glug-a-lugged the rest of the booze down in one long chug. Then he tossed the bottle into the water and smacked his lips. "Fucked if I'm gonna miss that. Follow me."

Kasoria did as he was told, casting one last look at the horizon. Even paler. Even brighter. Not much longer now, for him and them and the world.

[Kasoria]

There were things that needed to be observed. Some would call it religion, or mysticism, or superstition. Captain Senter was a man who dealt with wood and water and canvas and heaving, complaining flesh, so he was loathe to cozy himself up to those words. But he'd sailed every body of water worth the title Sea or Ocean in his time, and he'd seen things his dead parents back in Rynmere would never have believed. Never even dreamed.

Some things needed to be observed, because you never knew who might be watching... or whose help a navigating man might need on the open water.

"And here comes the main event, lads!"

The little man who'd given him a fake name (or so he assumed - most men of his ilk traded names like they did copper coins) widened his eyes and froze for a moment as a whole deck of rowdy, roaring, boozing sailors raised their drinks and cheered. A minor wave of liquid foulness sloshed onto the wood, staining and sizzling in some cases, but the Captain wasn't about to chide them for the mess. Half of them would be scrubbing it by midday, anyway. Instead he fixed his eyes and a knowing smile on the neat little fellow marching towards him, but a single bag over his shoulder... and a his face crushed into a frown.

"'The main event'?"

"That you are, my friend."

Kasoria didn't know anyone who used the words "my friend" and actually mean it. It seemed to be a verbal tic of malevolent men much like himself; the need to generate a patently false sense of bonhomie when, in fact, they were more akin to wolves flirting with a lamb. He also knew fuck all about ships and boats and how they were composed, so he didn't know what a forecastle was. He simply knew it was the smaller, raised deck on the back of the Lucky Lady. That was where the Captain and his better-dressed officers seemed to be holding court, lounging around the main wheel, observing the rest of the two-dozen strong crew on the main deck below them. Now Kasoria walked slowly up the stairs, trading challenging looks with cold stares, until he found the Captain's gaze again.

"Makin' a show of it. Shoulda' expected that."

The Captain made a big show of shrugging and spreading his arms, as if he were a stage mummer in a farce. "We're but simple people, Mister Thagoras. Gotta take our pleasures where we find them. Besides, it's the New Dawn, an' we've an offering to make."

A chorus of murmurs and chuckles answered him, leaving Kasoria both ignorant and enlightened. Every city and nation had a different name for the end of Cylus. Back home in Etzos, it was the "Trial of First Light", a time of feasting and celebration and, barely even hidden, relief. In Hiladreth it was the "Death of Darkness", and he'd seen children running around beating up hanging effigies of Naerrik and necromancers, usually associated with fell things in dark places. He'd heard others but New Dawn... that was a fresh one.

But even knowing that, he still frowned. Because of one particular word.

"An offering to who?"

Captain Senter's craggy features lost their mirth for a trill. Fucking Etzori. Always complaining and questioning, especially when it came to how a man worshiped. "U'frek, a' course. He Who Tends The Waves. Guardian of-"

"An Immortal."

"Yes. An Immortal. An' one any man who sails knows not to fuckin' piss off. Woulda' thought an Etzos lad like you would respect that kinda caution."

"Never told yeh I was-"

"You didn't need to, did youse?" The last two words were a gruesome parody of Kasoria's unmistakable accent, which of course was met with fresh guffaws. Kasoria just stared stonily until the Captain got over himself. "You got a problem with our offerin'?"

The little man's eyes slid from face to face and gaze to gaze and he knew this was not like back home. This was no turbulent but enlightened city where no daemonic slavemasters with pretensions of divinity were needed for a people to flourish, to love and be moral, to thrive and survive. This was the land beyond the Big Smoke, and here the Immortals were worshiped as much as those old, lost, forgotten gods he'd heard stories about when he was a boy. More so, since they had the benefit of actually walking around.

Swallow it. You're willing to get the shite kicked out of you for a ride home. You can take some twats talking twaddle to the air.

"Nah. No problem."

"Good." The Captain lurched upright and nodded to his side. At once, his First Mate clanged the bell and the sound rang across the deck. All eyes were soon on their shipmaster, and Senter grinned at his audience. "Clear a space on the main deck, you fuckin' cur! Time to make our offering! For a safe voyage, for fair winds, for the New Dawn!"

A rousing cheer. Many a drink raised in toast. The wanker should have been a politician. But his orders were obeyed, that was for sure. The crew shuffled and strode away from the middle of the deck, where a thick wooden hatch was. They dragged barrels and even a table with them, until there was nothing in that broad space save wood and spilled grog. Without being asked, two men stepped forwards... and Kasoria could tell they hadn't been drinking.

"We always mark the first voyage of Ashan, an' we always make sure it's on the New Dawn! So we can thank U'frek for watching over us on the seas! So we can offer him sport an' mirth an' contest, that we'll return back with full purses, an' find our wives waitin'... however many that may be!"

Another roaring cheer, ignored by the little man... and his new friends, apparently. They were younger, leaner, harder. Eyes deadly focused, like carved marble. Each one took off his shirt, revealing torsos made hard by rough living, sheared clean of excess flesh. One of them was wrapping cloth around his knuckles. The other was shaking out his legs, snapping his neck from side to side.

"But this arc.. we have somethin' special! What better jest t'make, I ask ye, than to have one of the faithless make a gesture of faith?!"

Kasoria spared the Captain a brief glance, utterly unmoved at seeing the sneer splitting his face. Ah, now he understood. This had been planned since he'd agreed. Now they had more than just an offering of entertainment and blood to their precious Immortal; now they had a delicious irony of an Etzori giving it to them. Captain Senter had his own little theater now, complete with stage boos coming from the audience, and the god-fearing duo - young lads, local boys, lean and wolf-eyed - eager to put him in his place.

He didn't react. He didn't speak. He just unbuckled his belt, and his swords were laid over a railing. His sheaths with a half-dozen throwing knives nestled in them went next. Then the karambit at his back. The brass knuckles in his pocket. The two men exchanged a look when, finally, a double-edged dagger was pulled from his boot and added to the pile.

Yeah, yeah, nearly done...

"Now... are we all ready here, lads?"

Once he was stripped down to his breeches and bare feet, they were. He could make out every feature of their faces now, even across fifteen feet. The light was coming back. The glow of the rays across the water was racing towards them. A town that had been swamped in darkness for a whole season was not yawning awake, not sleepy, not even tired. Most of it had waited all night, and now...

"U'frek! Chrien! We give thanks to ye! With blood on the water! At the New Dawn!"

Kasoria closed his eyes for a brief moment, and felt the light warm his face, and caress his closed lids.

"Into it, boys!"

Then his eyes snapped open, the crew roared and the town along with it, finding sunlight on the deck and two charging figures hurtling his way.

[Kasoria]

He was a walking fucking insult to them, and they weren't about to tolerate it.

He discarded weapon after weapon until he was naked save for breeches, and each item that clunked onto the deck only increased their scorn. Only a weakling would need to many weapons; only a coward would hide behind so many items of death. An old man, with shaky hands and rheumy eyes. Blinking at them owlishly from across the deck twin forms of youth vitality touched by the New Dawn.

Shaz and Raader exchanged a look, just before the Captain gave the word. They'd done this before; been together a long time, after all. They didn't have weapons either, but unlike the old cunt, they didn't need them. Younger by a handful of seasons, Shaz crushed his hands into fists. Raader rolled his shoulders, stretched his legs out to his bare toes... and then they were on him.

The rest of the crew roared as the young lions sprang on the old jackal. Raader came in fast from the side, spinning high kick sending the ragged man staggering backwards to avoid it-

-distracting him to Shaz running in under his gaze, right hook aiming for his head-

-cracking into Kasoria's arm as it came up to block, other arm doing the same for the left jab that came for his kidney-

-only to have his feet swept out under him by Raader. The crew barely heard the crack of his back slamming into the deck, so loud were they cheering. Handfuls of gold had been wagered, after all, and all believed only through sheer, deafening volume could their bets be won. The scant few who'd dared to gamble on the old man rolled their eyes as he fell, scoffing as he rolled away from them until he found the edge of the literally man-made arena-

"Back y'go, Eztos!"

-a scrabble of arms and legs hoisted him up and shoved him back towards the two sellsword, who were-

-already on hims again, Raader launching a high kick that he only just ducked under-

-straight into Shaz's straight, mashing his nose and filling his mouth with blood. The boxer grinned savagely and came in for the kill, getting in Raader's way to deliver it and-

-his punch snapped through the empty air as the old man swayed to the side, delivering his own rejoinder as a pair of piston-fast blows to the sellsword's chest. Knocking the wind from his air and sending him grunting back, raising his fists again for-

"Wanker!"

-Raader's sweep was higher, that time. Slamming into the side of his leg and driving him down to one knee as his right one just... stopped listening to him. Kasoria grunted and threw up his hands, knowing a blow was coming higher-

Wrong.

-only for Raader to nail him in the back with a whirling, spinning, screeching knee that he was sure broke something when it connected. The kick-boxer knocked the old man on his face and a shadow loomed over him. Shaz was back, breathing heavier and wheezing slightly. Kasoria braced his palms, tried to push himself upright-

-until Shaz kicked him in the face and did, indeed, raise him up... but only as he spun over in midair, to lay on his back with blood pouring from his mouth. He blinked at the unfamiliar sunlight, brightness and purity queer things after so many trials of immutable darkness. But his sight came back to him as he lay there... and with it, noise of his defeat. Roaring, laughing, mocking voices all mingled together into one deafening gestalt of derision.

He turned his head and saw the young ones soaking in their applause. Backs to him, scornful and unafraid. They were lapping it up. Loving every moment of it. Barely even breathing hard, save for Shaz and his bruised chest. Kasoria licked his lips and took a deep, painful breath.

Right. That's enough.

"Fuckin' old boy didn't know what hit 'im!"

"Right, that was less than a chime, hand it over."

"Fuckin' bang on, boys, knew y'could do it!"

"Won't be trying... that... again?"

"I... fuck..."

Voice by voice, their fans quieted. The two grinning mercenaries could see the joy and cruel elation drain from the faces of the crew. Hands lowered, no longer pumping up into the first light of Ashan. Instead they were staring behind them... and then they heard-

Toof

A heavy, mucus-and-blood-riddle wad landing along with the rest of the filth encrusting the deck. Hawked out by an old man back on his feet, with his face bruised and battered and his eyes cold as the water sloshing below them. He cracked his head from one side to the other, and then sighed. His opponents looked at each other. That... wasn't supposed to happen.

"Not bad," Kasoria said, flashing a quick grin of red and white. "My turn."

Concluded here

[Strange]

Thread Review

Kasoria

Kasoria

Skill Points: +10 (cannot be used for magic)
Magic XP: None.

Renown: +5 (for participating in a 1st of Ashan ceremony)

Injuries/Overstepping: Badly bruised face, bruised right leg, split lip, lost a molar, bruised left rib cage and two broken ribs.
Wealth Points: None.
Loot: None.

Skill Knowledges:

• Acrobatics: Rolling Across the Floor (and away from trouble)
• Acrobatics: Ducking Under a High Kick
• Deception: Holding Back Your Skills So You Can Observe Those of Your Opponents
• Detection: Recognizing a Foreign Accent
• Discipline: Swallowing Your Beliefs to Accomplish an Objective
• Endurance: Take a Beating, Keep on Tickin'

Non-Skill Knowledges:

• Culture: The first morning of Ashan in Rharne is called "The New Dawn"
• NPC Captain Senter: Marks the New Dawn with a Celebration
• NPC Captain Senter: Owner and Captain of The Lucky Lady

Notes: n/a.

For a set-up piece, this was still an immersive and enjoyable read. I especially liked the inclusions of U'frek and Chrien worship. Kasoria displayed a great deal of discipline, yet again, in being able to hold his tongue and wait.

The switch in perspective was well-timed with the change in Template, which aided in the understanding of that difference from Kasoria's POV to Shaz and Raader's side of things. The choice to change POV was a great way to facilitate the pivots of the fight using their names in a way that flowed naturally. It also added to the lead-up and tension of the piece.

Excellent job and enjoy your rewards!

PM me if you have any questions, issues or concerns.

Total Word Count: 2766 words.

Review Request Link: viewtopic.php?f=242&t=16103&p=115309#p115374
stampcodehere