• Solo • I. Allow me, Malady

104th of Ashan 720

Almund is a thriving township with a dark side. With houses made from the wooden bodies of decommissioned ships, there are many opportunities here, coupled with many dangers.

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I. Allow me, Malady



104th of Ashan 720

Rakvald's first few trials in and around Almund weren't ideal. He was wearing the same sackcloth toga and robe that he'd found in that warehouse in Beacon. The one he'd used to cover the form of Pygmalion, the old, meandering Biqaj man. Same as Rakvald, the man had arrived as an amnesiac, and further suffering from dementia. Yet Rakvald had hung onto sanity by the skin of the Dubaebo, in a literal sense when he met Devin once more. The travelling doctor and treasure hunter had reminded him of that adventure; the one where he'd acquired the totem of the Dubaebo.

Thus saved by this chance meeting, Rakvald arrived at an eventual solution. By the virtue of Chanter the psychologist, Rakvald was able to remember who he was. He returned to Rakvald as they came into the midst of Almund, thus saved from the fate of forgetting himself.

Now he wandered the streets, in his sackcloth, getting eyes from all manner of people. He'd have to buy some clothes, so that was one of the first stops he made. The sign atop the building showed it off for some survivalist store. Yet Rakvald was sure they'd sell the hide and leather clothing he preferred.

His tentacle arm writhed beneath the folds of his cloak, twisting and turning. It felt funny, like a half remembered caress from Cirrina. Remembering Cirrina made him long for human company. Apart from Devin and Chanter, he'd been so alone for Immortals knew how long. He wished to reacquaint himself with civilization, from whatever dark void he'd occupied. To rekindle the memory in the space of time between his departure from Quacia, to his arrival in Beacon. Where had he been? It was worrisome.

So as he entered the small survival supplies store, he took a look around. There he found all manner of cloaks and other clothing within viewing distance. There were a few other patrons in there, but for now Rakvald focused on the clothing on convenient display.

"If you need help, or want to try things on, there's a changing stall to the left." Said the proprietor to Rak. "But once you manage to fit something on, it's yours. We're not in the business of dressing people up for show!"

A real hard case, but Rakvald could respect his harsh approach to sales. Almund was arough town, and didn't look kindly on those who were pushovers.

A few bits later, while Rakvald was still trying to locate something that might fit him, he heard a woman. She was at the counter of the store, speaking with the proprietor. "Listen Paul, I need these supplies. You know it's not safe in the lagoons..."

"Whine more, lass. It don't matter. Hire a bodyguard if y'like. I'm not in the business of charity."

The woman, a pretty one of Sev'ryn extraction (Rakvald had come to appreciate Sev'ryn women during his time in Desnind), was holding up a vial. In her other hand, she held a strange-looking knife, that looked as if it was some kind of syringe. Strange... And she was wearing the blue cloak of one of the Adunih!

Rakvald, as luck would have it, found a large enough garment for himself. It was a hide and leather outfit, with a tunic that would hide his tentacle arm. More than that, it would provide him with warmth and cover from teh elements. He spent the better half of the break trying it on. The only feature he was uncertain about was the knee-length hide kilt. It'd take getting used to wearing a skirt. He'd not done so since his past life in Uthaldria. Yet he would try it. It's not as if he had plenty of choices.

So Rakvald sidled up to the sale counter, and found the woman still arguing with vehemence. They were speaking some different language he didn't understand. He shrugged, supposing they needed privacy for some of their conversation.

"I ready buy outfit." Rakvald said in a cheerful tone, with a thick vahanic accent. "How it look on me?" He winked at the woman, who only stared at him as if he had the mouth of a squid growing on his upper lip.

He laid his hands on the table, including the blackened tentacle hand. When the woman saw it, it immediately caught her attention, "What is this?! Frostbite?" Without asking permission, she began touching and prodding the flesh of his hand. Rakvald let her, giving her a broad smile. Chicks were always impressed with weird mutations, healer chicks especially! He was content to let her poke and prod.

"It mutation! Magic disease kind of." The mention of a magic disease fascinated her, and he could see it on her face. "May I let you examine me later." He continued winking at her, waggling his eyebrows.

She stopped touching his hand after a few moments. Then she looked up at his bat-like face, and suppressed a squeak of shock. "Y-you're a mage?"

"Oh ya, I mage. Big strong mage!" Rakvald lifted his tentacle arm, flexing it for her. The writhing bulges of what had been the bicept squirmed beneath the leather sleeve for her.

Funny enough, she didn't seem too put off by the arm. He thought she'd take his offer of an examination. Afterall, Adunih were required to treat people for free, weren't they? Or at the very least for an exchange of services. Rakvald could think of a few services he'd like to exchange!

But at present the shopkeep caught his attention, drawing his ire as he slapped the counter. "Nel now! No carousing with each other in my shop. Go find a bar if you want to do that!"

Rakvald grunted, and removed a measure of nel from his purse. These he placed before the man, and nodded at him. "Dat'll do."

That said, he turned back toward the woman, and grinned, "I hear you need protection. I give you protec where you go, and you give me free exam! How sound?"

The woman shifted on her feet, seeming to consider his offer. Finally, after what seemed half a bit of thought, she nodded her head, and reached out her left hand to shake. "I accept. You don't need to know your way around where I'm going, but do make yourself look imposing enough to scare anything that wants to make me lunch."

Rakvald grinned, "I can do dat! I big and strong, make big strong and mean face at whatever attacks! Go Kiai!" He laughed.

The shopkeep was shouting unintelligibly at this point, which forced the two out into the street. There, they could continue their negotiations.

"So uh... Why you not want anyone to make you lunch? Dey not good cook?"

The woman shot him a look sideways as they walked away from the shop. She snickered, and shook her head, "My name is Arjori, by the way. I'm with the... Order, but you know that I presume. Based on your asking for an exam."

"Oh!? What Order?"

She shot him another look, this time far more playful than the first. She knew very well his affiliation with the Order, as he had a pin that delineated his affiliation as a green cloak.

Rakvald cleared his throat, "I'm Rakvald by way. I know some medicine my self."

"Well met, Rakvald. Say, have you ever encountered Mer?" She asked, turning her face back to the road. They walked along for a good bit before Rakvald searched his memory sufficiently.

Then he slapped his forehead with his tentacle hand, "Ahh! Yes I know. I met a maid Cirrina. She was a mer! Very sexy and beautiful mer woman. With petite tentacles and shining skin..."

Rakvald sighed at the memory. But in truth he was more about trying to make this woman jealous of Cirrina. It didn't appear to get him far with her though. She only nodded.

"Then you know how dangerous they are, having been in close contact with one. They will think nothing of dealing with you one moment, and then devouring you the next, pulling you under to feed the rest of their kin."

Rakvald laughed at the description of the mer. Yes, Cirrina was tempestuous, but in a lovely way. Rakvald found himself thinking about her more, now that he mentioned the sea witch. Perhaps they'd encounter each other again. He would relish such a meeting.

"Aye, Mer be like dat from what I know!" Rakvald admitted, "Knowing a mer, though, yer too fine to provide much of a meal for one! Let alone a family!"

So saying, he slapped Arjori on the rear with his tentacle arm. She made him regret it instantly, stabbing him with the injector knife.

The next thing Rakvald remembered, was falling to the ground, stunned and momentarily paralyzed.

Continued Here...
word count: 1516

Fleshbound Tome~
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Re: I. Allow me, Malady


[*]Intimidation: Glower real hard to make them scared.
[*]Poison: A knife that delivers poisonous fluid by injection.
[*]Poison: Curare: A paralytic poison.
[*]Seduction: Waggle eyebrows suggestively.
[*]Seduction: Chicks dig mutations.
[*]Seduction: Flex your mutations for greater effect.

Loot: Outfit gained within Tier 4.
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: 5, for getting stabbed in public.
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 10
- - -
Comments: Oh my. This thread was hilarious. I see that you mentioned a certain doctor/treasure hunter. I’m glad that meeting Devin helped Rakvald! Rakvald wandering through Scalvoris Town in his sackcloth seems to have been quite the sight. I wonder what people thought the thing writhing under his cloak was …

His visit to the shop was quite entertaining. I couldn’t help but laugh when Rakvald talked about his mutation and offered to let the Sev’ryn woman examine him. The ending was rather unexpected, but in a good way as I can’t help but wonder what will happen next now.

I look forward to reading the sequel!

Enjoy your rewards!
word count: 177





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