• Placeholder • Blinded by the Light

Hera seeks a hot revenge.

6th of Ymiden 716

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Syhera Ki'hadi
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Blinded by the Light

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"Born of water, there is fire in her veins."
  • 6th of Ymiden, 716 Arc
    Hera had been called to the port in desperation. There had been... a tragedy. Thinking her mother had been injured, Hera had rushed from their tiny shop at the crack of dawn and sprinted to the docks where her mother slept. The humidity and warmth of the morn cause a sheen of sweat to clutch to her body and her curls were erratic and wild. Fear clutched her heart and when she reached her destination, her eyes searched frantically for the one person that mattered the most to her.

    A small gathering of Biqaj hovered around their docked ship and turned to Hera when she arrived. They had been whispering in angered tones, and shook their head in sadness. When they saw her, they separated and the reality of everything set in. On the deck was a woman on her knees, sobbing and Hera knew it was her mother. Around the woman were tatters of a sail that had been shredded with what looked like a sword or knife. Red paint had been strewn across the deck, and for a moment, Hera feared it was blood, but the acidic smell set her straight. She took a step forward, seeing the door to the cabin had been ripped off its hinges and she didn't have to go inside to see that it had been ransacked. A few older women -- friends of her mother's -- hovered around the older Biqaj, whispering words of reassurance and condolences.

    Hera's heart sunk, and she boarded the vessel. Gwynthera raised her face and even in the dim light, she could see her eyes were bloodshot and pained. She said nothing, only returned her gaze to the pieces of paper that were clutched helplessly between her fingers. Her mother slowly released it, revealing the sketch of a young man - her father, and perhaps one of the most valuable things on boat, not by price, but by meaning. One of the last remaining memories.

    The redhead was silent for a long time, taking deep breaths to control the fury that threatened to burst free, "...Who did this?""

    No one answered, but another sob racked through Gwynthera's body.

    "Who?" Hera demanded, her voice raising, and she whirled around to those that gawked. They shook their heads or remained silent and the mask the young woman wore began to melt, "Biqaj on every corner at this port, and no one saw a thing?" It was like talking to a wall. Some muttered, others adverted their gazes and Hera scoffed at them. Disgusting.

    "Our ships are our souls and look what they've done! What of our retribution!?"

    She didn't think they would answer, until finally a man, perhaps mid thirties took a step forward. His facial hair was scruffy, and patterned with salt and pepper hairs. A stern expression, he tilted back the hat her wore and crossed his arms, "Aye. I saw them. I know who did it."
Last edited by Syhera Ki'hadi on Mon May 08, 2017 7:05 pm, edited 2 times in total. word count: 507
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Syhera Ki'hadi
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Blinded by the Light

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"Born of water, there is fire in her veins."

  • "Who?" Hera repeated, taking a step forward and staring the man sternly in the face.

    "Girl and her brother, I think," The fisherman snorted, scratching the side of his nose with his thumb and spit on the ground, "They were lurking around for awhile. Or at least the guy was. I think the girl was blind."

    Blind? "What do you mean?"

    "I was loading the nets, I didn't get a good look, but she was kinda reaching out. Looked like he was guiding her. Thought I heard her ask, 'What does it look like?', 'Is she here?' things like that. Like I said, we were shipping off for an early catch, but when we were pulling out, they were heading this way," He shook his head in distaste, "You got salt with someone like that?"

    Hera mulled over the information. Her mother would never offend a blind person, and she wasn't sure she had met one personally, "No," Why would they do this? She crossed her arms and looked at the others, "If she was blind, was he carrying anything? A knife? Sword?"

    The man stared off for minute, determination hardening his features and he ran a hand over his stubble in thought. Finally, he began to nod, as if remembering, "Aye. Black scabbard. She had a bucket." That was all Hera needed to know, and when she looked up at the destroyed sails -- the lungs of their vessel -- it was hard not to immediately run off and bang down every door in town. She remained quiet.

    "She wasn't Biqaj," a woman chimed in, her eyes smudged with dark kohl, "A Biqaj wouldn't do this to another."

    Unfortunately, they might, "There isn't much love for me, lately."

    A few understanding nods, but no insults. The woman shook her head and pointed to where Gwynthera still sat, crying, "Who you marry will earn you no loyalty here, but how you handle this will. A Biqaj will always respect defending their anchor."

    She was right. She would handle this herself. It was an attack on her family. What if Gwynthera had been home? Her mother was Hera's anchor, and now that anchor was in pain. There would be justice as hot as her fury.

    Hera looked up, her eyes dulling to the deepest black, "Looks like we have to find our new friends, then."

    The fisherman yanked his hat off and pulled it to his chest, "You could use a stern hand. These children need a lesson in Biqaj culture. I'll be a part of your crew."

    The woman who had spoken up looked to her friend and they both nodded at one another in agreement, "We'll have you a name by noon," And they turned to walk away. Each Biqaj remaining made promises of secrecy and vowed to keep an eye and an ear open. By the time everyone had dispersed, the sun was rising and the horrors of their destruction were bright and clear.

    Hera went to her mother, crouching in the red paint that was still tacky under her shoe, "Don't cry, mama. I will take care of this."
Last edited by Syhera Ki'hadi on Sat Jul 30, 2016 12:13 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 538
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Syhera Ki'hadi
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Blinded by the Light

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"Born of water, there is fire in her veins."

  • By noon they had a name and an address.

    More Biqaj scouted the area and reported to Syhera, who had remained straight faced all morning. She had spent the day collecting the shreds of sails and had even started scrubbing the paint that clung to the worn baseboards. Now she waited patiently for nightfall, watching the sun set and rolled her sore muscles. Gwynthera had gone to lay down, not having the heart to do much, but the passion of their race had helped pull her moral up. In the meantime, Hera had taken up a leadership position, sticking close to the fisherman who had offered his aid earlier in the day. She had learned his name was Varik, and he was a gruff fellow with a strong will.

    The man had downed a bottle of rum in their time together and it hadn't even seemed to faze him. In fact, he seemed to draw strength from it, "When do we make our move?"

    "Nightfall," Hera had thought briefly that they might try something again, but with the port on high alert, she doubted they had the spines for it. Only an idiot would come near the water again, and their confidence would give them security, "We will separate the siblings. I'll take care of the girl."

    "No qualms in taking out a blind girl then?" No judgement, just an interested curiosity. Hera appreciated the respect.

    "Being blind doesn't make you a good person. And I will never have a problem taking out those who hurt my family." Hera was organizing some of the belongings that had been destroyed, deciding what would be salvaged and what they could sell. The rest would be thrown away. "They won't expect a retaliation so soon, if they expect it at all."

    "Hm... You gonna kill her?"

    "No," Syhera replied, but paused in her cleaning, "Maybe. Only a fool would do what they did. If she can be smart, she will live."

    Varik nodded, giving the woman's words some thought, "What about the law?"

    Hera shrugged, tossing the rag that was in her hand on the corner of a nearby bucket, "Maybe they come for me, maybe they don't. If they know it was me, I won't deny my part," In fact, Syhera had given the possibility some deep consideration. It could backfire on her engagement, but how long would they keep the ruse up anyhow? With any luck, she could find a way out of trouble. And if she played her cards right, she would avoid the whole mess of getting caught all together. Hera looked over at the fisherman. Would he say anything?

    Reading her thoughts, Varik began to speak, "Aye. Gwynthera is a good woman. What they did to her wasn't right, and I ain't got no love for bullies or cowards. They can lock me up, beat me, I ain't talking," Pause. "Ya mom says you have a lord husband. He know about all this?"

    "Fiance," She corrected quickly, "And, no."

    "...You gonna tell him?"

    "No."

    Varik nodded some more in approval, "I respect that," Meaning she wasn't letting Peake hold her hand over every little thing. She wasn't just pampered arm candy, she dealt with her own problems, "This is Biqaj business. Biqaj should handle it."

    She agreed and said as much with her silence. The pair watched the sun dip beneath the horizon and when Hera stood, Varik followed silently behind.


word count: 594
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Syhera Ki'hadi
Posts: 119
Joined: Wed Apr 27, 2016 2:54 am
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Blinded by the Light

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"Born of water, there is fire in her veins."
  • They rounded the corner of the street, and a woman was standing, chatting with a man under the streetlamp. She stopped when Hera came into the sight and the woman turned in her direction. More Biqaj. Hera smiled, pleased that her people seemed to breed like rabbits and stick just as close. Hera pretended not to notice, and slowed down when the woman's fingers moved quickly, flashing a number. Three digits rose and fell. Three knights on the street. More than her own.

    Hera nodded, looking up the cobblestone path. The houses were nicer. Nothing elaborate, but definitely middle class. A few potted plants decorated balconies, lantern lights glowed warmly in the windows of a few. Others were dark, signalling their patrons had begun to head to bed. As they moved further up the street, sticking close to the buildings the two Biqaj under the street light began to make a scene, the woman crying and screaming hysterically. The man and woman began to fight, swinging at each other with believable gusto. Footsteps sounded, and the redhead disappeared down an alley, followed by her companion. An authoritative shout, and Hera saw that two of the knights on patrol were heading to stop the domestic quarrel, any neighbors peeking their heads out to watch on nosily.

    One of the Biqaj pushed the knight aggressively, riling him up. They shouted for the third and the scene only amplified. A beautiful scene of wondrous acting that drew the attention of all. The man was being wrestled to the ground by two of the guards while the woman screamed profanities and pounded the armored back of the other. Their loyalty was truly moving, a lovely sacrifice.

    No one saw the other two slip back down the street, walking proudly with their heads cast downwards, a cloak covering both of their faces. When they reached their destination, carefully Varik tested the handle and they looked at each other in silent surprise. Composing herself, the redhead took a deep breath and noded. The door was unlocked and the two crept in with an awful intent.

    Inside was quiet, none of the lamps in the house lit. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim light. Of course, no lamps would need to be on - the woman here was blind. What use did she have for light? Some footsteps shuffled from the second story and Varik held a hand out, motioning her to be still. He crept forward like a panther, easing himself
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