1st Afternoon of Ymiden
Lowtown. This was where the common folk lived, where the filth and slop lined the streets and disease proliferated as if it were a molten ooze crawling to each new victim. It made her sick, it made her despise humanity. Things were not as they should be in such a place, but the marching of heavy boots in formation thundered through the alley as two lines of soldiers on patrol marched in a deafening roar. The unstoppable force moved past her, but Vera watched the disdainful glances of those on the bottom rung of life as they sat there, thinking they were wondering why things were so difficult. The psyche of those who had tried hard only to fail perplexed her, that they would just give up so soon? Did they just need more help, were they intimidated by the world around them? Or were their losses so great that they had lost their life in remorse and misery? In any case, depression was the big thing that seemed to affect humanity around these parts, it was partly why she was in lowtown in the first place.
When everything fell to silence, save for the ring in her ears, Vera continued in the direction from whence they came. She was here to find and persuade a captain of the Iron Hand. Scrawled upon a small note in her pocket that she had received from her mentor were the words in a large, jagged font; “TREATMENT REQUIRED: JEREMIAH SQUATS. PLEASE COMMIT PATIENT BY ORDERS OR HE WILL GO UNTREATED.” She didn’t have her conduit with her due to her magic being illegal and unregistered, it also didn’t seem logical to enter the den of wolves with a lamb around her neck.
Today, she was only armed with Lethroda, the mark of Sintra, and her own wit. Her simple black skirt and shirt stood contrast to the many browns and greens the common-folk wore, in fact as she walked, her eyes caught the startlingly bright blue of a man in robes and a hood. In his hands, a pot. A smaller girl with bright crimson hair wore a similar hooded robe, one in a bright green. They both wore belts adorned with satchels and vials, and loaded packs. When Vera got closer, she could see the steam rise from the pot, the two were walking but they paused in front of a skinny man with a scruffy beard who was resting with a sack over him.
The man’s eyes perked open slightly as the girl in green, armed with ladle and bowl, procured some of the hearty soup. “You should eat or you will grow ill,” she said. He leaned over and picked up the wooden bowl with two hands, holding it up over his head. “Thank-you”, he said weakly. Vera had gotten close enough to hear them, and those words hinted that these two were armed for the common good of the people of Rynmere, the respectable sort who would do anything just to help. Hands free, the crimson-haired green girl turned and spotted Vera with a startled look. She graciously ran to her, big blue eyes looking up at Vera. “Alms. Alms for the poor, sick, and dying?”
Vera chuckled lightly at the demand. “Alas, I did not bring any nels with me. I am a student of the mind at the Infirmary, so I make very little.” She was perplexed now, the two seemed organized. Dyed robes, equipment. Those satchels, the sick and dying? The satchels must contain medicine.
The girl was quick to retort. “Every single nel is put to good use.” Vera looked up to see the blue-hooded man looking at her calmly, a smile upon his face. It felt like a shake down, to play on sensibilities in exchange for help. It was a potent weapon, but she recognized it easily and thus it had no effect on her. When their eyes met, he approached. Neither of them offered a hand, instead keeping their gloved hands to their sides as a doctor would. “We are somewhat aligned in trade, you are a student, yes?” He asked, a familiar Biqaj accent rolling from his tongue.
Vera nodded, looking between the two of them who had her pinned like hungry dogs begging for treats. And, here it comes ….
“You should visit the Adunih facility, you may be able to learn much about your craft by working with us. What say you, student of the infirmary?” She had a feeling they would ask her for help, but they didn’t outright request membership. They seemed to desire more of a relationship with her than a business arrangement, which was refreshingly different. She was curious now, if they had done research on the mind, some of it might be useful to her. Who knew what she might learn?
“Very well.” Vera said. The small girl’s eyes lit up, and the man in blue smirked. Before they could speak, she herself spoke up with a raised voice. “But, I have work to finish in lowtown. I will return tomorrow, time-permitting. I am a very busy woman!” She nodded at them in a farewell, but the blue man spoke up. “The facility is near to here -”
Vera had her back turned to him, interrupting. “I shall ask the beggars if I cannot find it, they seem to have a good relationship with you.” That seemed enough for the goodie-two-shoes duo, as they stopped pestering her. It was time to get on with the task at hand; finding Jeremiah’s Knight Captain.
Lowtown. This was where the common folk lived, where the filth and slop lined the streets and disease proliferated as if it were a molten ooze crawling to each new victim. It made her sick, it made her despise humanity. Things were not as they should be in such a place, but the marching of heavy boots in formation thundered through the alley as two lines of soldiers on patrol marched in a deafening roar. The unstoppable force moved past her, but Vera watched the disdainful glances of those on the bottom rung of life as they sat there, thinking they were wondering why things were so difficult. The psyche of those who had tried hard only to fail perplexed her, that they would just give up so soon? Did they just need more help, were they intimidated by the world around them? Or were their losses so great that they had lost their life in remorse and misery? In any case, depression was the big thing that seemed to affect humanity around these parts, it was partly why she was in lowtown in the first place.
When everything fell to silence, save for the ring in her ears, Vera continued in the direction from whence they came. She was here to find and persuade a captain of the Iron Hand. Scrawled upon a small note in her pocket that she had received from her mentor were the words in a large, jagged font; “TREATMENT REQUIRED: JEREMIAH SQUATS. PLEASE COMMIT PATIENT BY ORDERS OR HE WILL GO UNTREATED.” She didn’t have her conduit with her due to her magic being illegal and unregistered, it also didn’t seem logical to enter the den of wolves with a lamb around her neck.
Today, she was only armed with Lethroda, the mark of Sintra, and her own wit. Her simple black skirt and shirt stood contrast to the many browns and greens the common-folk wore, in fact as she walked, her eyes caught the startlingly bright blue of a man in robes and a hood. In his hands, a pot. A smaller girl with bright crimson hair wore a similar hooded robe, one in a bright green. They both wore belts adorned with satchels and vials, and loaded packs. When Vera got closer, she could see the steam rise from the pot, the two were walking but they paused in front of a skinny man with a scruffy beard who was resting with a sack over him.
The man’s eyes perked open slightly as the girl in green, armed with ladle and bowl, procured some of the hearty soup. “You should eat or you will grow ill,” she said. He leaned over and picked up the wooden bowl with two hands, holding it up over his head. “Thank-you”, he said weakly. Vera had gotten close enough to hear them, and those words hinted that these two were armed for the common good of the people of Rynmere, the respectable sort who would do anything just to help. Hands free, the crimson-haired green girl turned and spotted Vera with a startled look. She graciously ran to her, big blue eyes looking up at Vera. “Alms. Alms for the poor, sick, and dying?”
Vera chuckled lightly at the demand. “Alas, I did not bring any nels with me. I am a student of the mind at the Infirmary, so I make very little.” She was perplexed now, the two seemed organized. Dyed robes, equipment. Those satchels, the sick and dying? The satchels must contain medicine.
The girl was quick to retort. “Every single nel is put to good use.” Vera looked up to see the blue-hooded man looking at her calmly, a smile upon his face. It felt like a shake down, to play on sensibilities in exchange for help. It was a potent weapon, but she recognized it easily and thus it had no effect on her. When their eyes met, he approached. Neither of them offered a hand, instead keeping their gloved hands to their sides as a doctor would. “We are somewhat aligned in trade, you are a student, yes?” He asked, a familiar Biqaj accent rolling from his tongue.
Vera nodded, looking between the two of them who had her pinned like hungry dogs begging for treats. And, here it comes ….
“You should visit the Adunih facility, you may be able to learn much about your craft by working with us. What say you, student of the infirmary?” She had a feeling they would ask her for help, but they didn’t outright request membership. They seemed to desire more of a relationship with her than a business arrangement, which was refreshingly different. She was curious now, if they had done research on the mind, some of it might be useful to her. Who knew what she might learn?
“Very well.” Vera said. The small girl’s eyes lit up, and the man in blue smirked. Before they could speak, she herself spoke up with a raised voice. “But, I have work to finish in lowtown. I will return tomorrow, time-permitting. I am a very busy woman!” She nodded at them in a farewell, but the blue man spoke up. “The facility is near to here -”
Vera had her back turned to him, interrupting. “I shall ask the beggars if I cannot find it, they seem to have a good relationship with you.” That seemed enough for the goodie-two-shoes duo, as they stopped pestering her. It was time to get on with the task at hand; finding Jeremiah’s Knight Captain.