• Mature • Seeing Stars (Red Ones)

23rd of Cylus 721

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Joined: Fri Sep 27, 2019 10:06 pm
Race: Yludih
Profession: Pretend Person
Renown: 145
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Seeing Stars (Red Ones)


Continued from here...

23rd of Cylus 721

The mug shattered against the man's face with a satisfying crunch of clay and half-drunken beer, which seared into the small scratches that resulted on his face. However, the Lotharro was an experienced brawler and didn't waste time in retaliating. He grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and pulled Safira to her feet with a shriek of pain. At this point, several of the onlookers cheered, others seemed perturbed by the treatment of the small woman by the stout lotharen. Yet, many more joined in the brawl, launching themselves into the fray, stumbling over each other for a turn at the beating.

Safira could do little against the onslaught and just had to accept that she would be bloodied and possibly broken by night's end. She had no skill in fighting, and it was all she could do to endure the blows that rained on her, from drunken fists that didn't bother to know their strength.

The wrathling had done its work and engendered fury in the man it struck as well as doing its damage. Safira did what she could to evade or mitigate the blows, moving with the momentum of whatever fists were hitting her at a moment in order to go with the flow. The Lotharen was soon overwhelmed, but that didn't mean Safira was Scott free. The entire Karshe Inn common room broke into a large brawl, as the festival of the Stars unfolded outside, people letting their red iyo out to give the outdoors a crimson glow.

Punched in the sides, in the gut, and even sometimes given a lecherous grope from some of the more perverse brawlers, Safira was at the entire Inn's mercy for the first few bits of that brawl. That is until one man cornered her, against the wall of the Inn, and gave her a haymaker to the belly once, twice. She lurched downward with a thud and looked up at him pleading with the aid of Thespian's sorrow. Faking desperation did give the man a moment of pause, even as she effused her natural allure as a sesser. But it only gave him pause for a moment, before he descended on her with a flurry of ill-aimed blows.

She didn't see much after that, her eyes swollen shut by the beatings she'd received, but she heard something interrupt the beating she as getting at that moment. The sound of iron against leather, and then a muttered threat that Safira couldn't quite understand, her common being rather atrocious. Then, she felt a friendly hand on her shoulder, pulling her up, and half dragging, half guiding her away from all the chaos.

Safira felt them moving through the bustling brawling crowd, until at last they reached the threshold to the outside. Cool air fell on her bruises, and she was able to open her eyes ever so slightly. The bitter chill still stung her bruises and face, where the blows had fallen. Yet she recovered slightly with the help of her Sesser allure and the residual effects of the demon's kiss.

In time, her eyes fell on her rescuer, a tall man with blue eyes... Blue like... Oh! She would recognize that baby blue anywhere, it was Ekohdene!

Safira sputtered, through swollen lips and a bitten tongue, "Hab you come to teep me mabic?" She knew Ekohdene was a mage, and why else would they agree to meet if not to pass on their spark? She was hopeful all at once, and somewhat relieved to be out of that dangerous brawl.

Sean merely glanced at Saf in disgust. "You're not ready to learn. We have groundwork to prepare before I can ever consider initiating you."

Safira sputtered laughter, bloody laughter through her mouth, dripping from her lip and tongue in little red droplets. "I'm nop a floorer. Just a wee lass. She laughed through her pain, and Sean merely continued to glower at her.

"You're not nearly ready to learn magic. You've traveled some, yes, but what do you have to show for it? You still talk that soft, southern tongue." Sean shook his head, "No, you need to prove you can fit in, and survive in ordinary society before I'll ever consider initiating you."

Safira whimpered to hear this, and drew her arms against her chest in an effort to warm herself. Parts of her garments had torn in the brawl, letting in a chill draft from the Cylus atmosphere. She shivered all at once, and put on the Thespian's sorrow.

He didn't seem convinced by her whimpering though, yet still his face softened. Not even the most hardened killer could resist the allure of a sesser, not entirely anyway. Or so Safira thought. She smiled despite herself, through her tears. "Come on, I have a place to set up camp somewhere to the outskirts. You still have that camping gear and...?"

"Yeb." She said, drawing herself up and standing stronger as the moments passed. She hefted the pack that held her meager camping equipment, which had been left outside the Inn before venturing into the Karshe. She picked it up, and swung it over her shoulder, nodding to Sean. Sean, or Ekohdene as they were known in Uleuda, guided her toward the place where they were to set up.

He led her over toward where the Fire Pit was. There were many hunters and other people besides, who congregated around the Fire Pit, especially during this season. Here, people were allowed to camp on a limited basis, but so long as they stayed a safe distance from the fire, lest it catch on their camping equipment and spread.

As they settled down to the radius of the Fire Pit, Ekoh, or Sean as they insisted on being referred to in this form, spoke to Safira, to Zunylanih. He taught her some more of the diction and flow of the common tongue. In truth, it wasn't much more sophisticated than Vahanic, which he was far more familiar with, and far less complex than Ulehi. Safira turned into a quick study.

He held up everyday objects for her, and asked her to identify them in Common. This was a simple task, so he moved onto issues of grammar. Drilling her for the next few breaks until they fell asleep beneath an elkskin blanket that Zunylanih had purchased from a hunter. Their combined warmth managed to keep them preserved, in tandem with the proximity of the Fire Pit and its warmth.

In the morning, or what one would call morning in Cylus, the lessons continued. Sean mostly just talked to her about this or that, talking about where they were from. Sean had been a part of a crew. The Consort to a captain, until he had a falling out with them. Safira listened with rapt attention, the bruises on her face still evident against her pale skin. She listened to his tales of what he'd been through in the following trials and arcs, of his adventures, being a knife for hire. Safira took away from it all, that he wasn't altogether proud of his existence as a hired thug. But she thought the idea of offing people for nels sounded awfully romantic and interesting. To see red or silver flow from the blade of an axe or knife, and know that it had come about from her power.

She didn't get to ask him how he'd become a mage before the lessons in Common continued. And she was made to speak in common the entire time, being corrected for every syllable and conjunction and pronoun that was incorrectly placed in her speech.

Eventually, she began to get more and more confident with the common language.

She shivered in her blanket, as more wood was gathered for the Fire Pit. She sat staring into those flames, oddly infatuated with the way they played upon the air, and consumed the fuel that was piled onto it. She wanted to contribute to that flame, if possible, and got the idea to seek a job with the wood choppers.

She turned to Sean, "You think I chop wood maybe? For Fire Pit? Good job?"

Sean turned to face her, and shrugged, "Sounds like as good a job as any. If it makes ends meet." So saying, he turned back to the fire, and was seemingly lost in meditative thought.

Safira looked at his face for a few more moments, studying it, before turning back to the fire. She was resolved then, she'd seek employment at the Fire Pit. The idea of watching it eat up fuel, consuming it like a ravenous beast appealed to her. A budding pyromania, perhaps. Not the best thing for one intending to integrate into Desnind, but it was a start.

Without waiting for Sean to gather his thoughts, she swept aside her portion of the blanket, and rose to her feet, approaching the men chopping wood and preparing fuel for the fires. She smiled coyly at them, and they gave her a pitying look, seeing the bruises on her face. "I'd like job for fire?" She said, putting on a tremulous and shy smile.

They gave each other skeptical looks, before one of them came forward, and nodded to her, and began directing her to gather the scrap wood they had lying about, for the others to chop. And just like that, she was in a job.

word count: 1602
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Re: Seeing Stars (Red Ones)


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Skill Knowledge
Linguistics (Common) x3
Sesser's Thespian: Can be used to pretend to be sad, or vulnerable, lulling people into a sense of pity.

Non-Skill Knowledge

Loot & Consequences
+10xp (solo)

Zuny got fucked up. His Sesser ability helps a bit, but he/she feels rough. While he might heal quickly on the outside, it'll take a week or two before he/she is back to full physical operation (unless he keeps using that ability).

Zuny is now employed by the fire pit.

This identity/face gains the title of "homewrecker", and Zuny will find a mix of shunning and the occasional proposition by those dissatisfied in their marriage. Has he learned his lesson? ;)



For broken Common, Zuny understood some pretty complex sentences and colloquialisms such as "If it makes ends meet". It makes sense that they clearly struggled with replying, but I think this was overplayed some. This is the second thread of overplay, so I've taken away two lores. BUT, reading this thread and the last, I am awarding Zuny the next ability in his Sesser Mark:

Scapegoat Fury is the domain of the Transformed Immortal. She knows the ins and outs of its weaknesses and strengths. Logic does not always follow one into the twists and turns of fury. This ability makes use of that. Against an enraged foe, the marked can shift the object of that fury from them to any other within distance of sight to the enraged. A useless ability if there is no one else, this can be a potently destructive ability among a crowd. Some of Syroa's marked have deliberately goaded others into rage, only to shift the object of their fury to another and watch as anger consumed those around them. Without furious intent, this ability has much less potent an effect. With even the hint of anger, it can be misplaced to another; however, one who wishes to visit harm on the marked due to religious conviction, sorrow, or any other emotion outside of rage cannot be swayed.

Sometimes it pays to stay loyal to a "dead" Immortal, no?
I also don't have access to add medals, but I think he's also eligible for the Cheater medal. Good thread, I hope you enjoyed your rewards. Watch out for that skill overplay.
word count: 397
Work Hard. Stay Bumble.
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