• Memory • Not the best of days

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Jachiel
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Joined: Tue May 03, 2016 2:45 pm
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Not the best of days

24 Cylus 716

A scuff of shoe leather on stone was Jachiel's only warning, and he didn't manage to duck fast enough. Something foul-smelling bounced off his back and he stumbled and turned, his mouth opening to voice a protest. Before he could get any words out, the woman yelled at him, "Get out of here, you lazy scum, before I call the knights down on you! This is a respectable area and we don't want the likes of you around here!" She raised a handful of - something that stank - and Jachiel decided that discretion was the better part of valour and fled.

When he finally stopped for breath, he found himself in a street he didn't recognise. He grimaced - seven years in this blasted city and he could still get lost! One part of him sighed in resignation, knowing that he'd set this off by wandering aimlessly once he'd been discharged from the imfirmary that morning. A birthing trial gift, to be healed enough to go. A birthing trial curse, to be told this was as far as he was ever going to heal. No uniform to mark him out as the worker everyone grown was supposed to be, only shabby civilian clothes. No sling around his arm to mark him as wounded and on leave, only the support of a coat pocket to prevent it from flapping helplessly. The other part of him gasped through a burning throat until he got his breath back and hauled his mind out of speculation and bitterness into the chilly gloom of standing, now, in an unknown street. First things first, figure out where he was - or at least, which way to go to get back to somewhere he knew. He looked around. The flowerboxes fixed to the houses told him that he was still in Mid-town at least, but nothing grew in them. Not in Cylus, in the cold and the gloom. He shifted his feet on the cobbles, feeling for any slope to the street that would tell him which way was downhill towards the wall and the barracks, but if there was one, it was too shallow to sense through his boots. Lifting his head, he turned slowly to face up-street and down and listened. There was the ever present hum of humanity, horses clopping on cobbles, dogs barking, people talking and walking... The hum was louder down-street, and he started that way. A waft of freshly baked bread scent hit his nose, then another, overriding the remnants of whatever was still on his back, and his belly growled. He chuckled dryly at that and fingered the coins in his pocket. "All right," he told himself, "let's go find something to eat."
word count: 464
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Jachiel
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Posts: 150
Joined: Tue May 03, 2016 2:45 pm
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Not the best of days

He wandered down the street, his ears pricked to catch the rise and fall of the city's hum as he turned corners. As he turned yet another corner into yet another quiet street, his ears caught the tap-tapping of a cobbler's hammer at work He quickened his pace towards the evidence of an actual person and suddenly found himself face-to-window with the bakery. It looked warm and full of food, and the scent filling his nose brought an almost physical ache of longing for the farm kitchen of his childhood. He blinked, swallowed down the ache, and pushed open the door. The warmth hit him like a wall, and the half-healed burns all down his arm woke up with a vengeance at the change of temperature, sinking tiny knives of pain into his flesh and bone. For a moment, that pain was all he could think about. Then he shook himself and forced a smile. There were a few tables to sit at, and he ordered, and paid for, a cup of hot tea and a piece of apple pie. The pie was probably made with dried apples at this time of the arc, but it wasn't as if he could revert to childhood and ask for something fresh for his birthing trial. It would be warm and sweet and tasty, at the very least.

He went, out of habit, for a chair in a corner so that his back would be protected by the wall, and slid into it. The serving girl placed his order in front of him and gave him a worried look. "Can you manage?" she asked, like she might ask a small child.

Jachiel nodded. "I'll be fine..."

She continued to hover in the corner of his vision, right where his battlefield instincts expected an attack. "Are you sure?"

Pain and frustration added an edge to his voice as he said, "Yes, thank you." He was injured, not helpless frack it!

"I was only asking," she informed him, as she flounced away. "Just trying to be helpful!" Then, thankfully, she was gone.

He wrapped his good hand around the cup, savouring the warmth against his skin on that side even as his burns continued to stab pain. Once, only a season ago, he'd have cradled it in both hands. Now, one hand remained awkwardly tucked in a pocket, on the end of a useless arm. He lifted the cup, sipped, and sighed as quietly as he could. Putting the cup down, he took a small bite of pie and let the taste spread across his tongue. He continued to alternate slowly as he thawed out, and the pain finally dwindled as the burns adjusted to the bakery's heat, making it last as long as he could.


Receipt
Cup of tea: 5 cn,
Apple pie: 4 sn,
word count: 480
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Jachiel
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Not the best of days

At last, he washed down the last crust of the pie with the last sip of the now luke-warm tea, set his cup down one last time, and slipped quietly out without looking back. Having once adjusted to the warmth of the bakery, the burns now protested the new change in temperature to the cold outdoors again. Jachiel swore softly under his breath and gritted his teeth to wait it out. He walked as he waited, letting the rhythmic contact of feet and cobbles ground him, finding his way to the marketplace and from there down the more familiar turns to the gate between mid-town and low-town. The guards recognised him and nodded him through, and he found a grin from somewhere to thank them and hide his frustration. They at least didn't see him as lazy or useless.

Beyond the gate he moved more warily, alert to movement and sound around him. It would be just his luck if "helpless fool" met and merged with "target for thieves" and while he hadn't been cleared to fight again yet, he doubted that would bother any cutpurses. His stamina wasn't what it had been before the injury either, he realised as a wave of tiredness rolled over him. He looked around for landmarks and realised he was only one street over from the Blacksmith Arms. Checking his remaining coins, he found he had enough on him for a drink, and if he drank slowly, that would also buy him the time to sit and recover a bit from all the walking.

When he ducked through the door he found the Arms was moderately well filled, but not so much he couldn't easily get to the bar. He slid past a group of merchants and "suppliers" who were too engrossed in their argument to notice his presence, dodged a groping hand - and found his balance was off - and spotted a small empty table near the back. He ordered an ale, and had to put the money down on the bar before the owner would fill his mug. Jachiel did so with a barely suppressed sigh, took the mug and moved as quickly as he dared to grab the table.

Receipt
Ale: 1 sn
word count: 377
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Jachiel
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Posts: 150
Joined: Tue May 03, 2016 2:45 pm
Race: Human
Renown: 95
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Not the best of days

He was three-quarters of the way through his ale when the argument between the merchants and the suppliers spilled over from words into something more physical. Within trills they were actually fighting, and the brawl spread. Jachiel had only a moment to sense it coming towards him and start to turn, and then someone ploughed into his stool and sent him sprawling. Unable to catch himself with his bad arm, he landed on it hard and painfully, and the remains of his ale hit the floor beside him. That combined with his frustration already shredding the controls on his tongue and his temper roused a fierce desire to strike back, and his fist lashed out before he thought. He hit someone's broad back to little effect, then snarled, dropped the mug, and tried again. This time he took more time to aim, slamming his hand into the back just above the man's narrow belt, trying for a painful strike on the kidneys.

The man responded with a curse and twisted to get at Jachiel. Jachiel tensed, watching the eyes for the flicker that might tell him which way to dodge. It came and he wasn't fast enough completely avoid a fist that grazed along his cheek. He snapped a kick across the floor and caught the man's knee - which shot upwards toward Jachiel's groin. He rolled hastily away and found himself tangled in a fur that had slid off a bench. Before he could free himself, the man was on top of him, and Jachiel felt a knee thump against ribs that were barely cushioned by the entangling fur.

He spat a curse back at the man, but he was pinned facedown and couldn't find the leverage to escape the hold. The man smacked the back of Jachiel's head less than gently, and the taste of blood trickled into Jachiel's mouth as his lip split against the floor. He snarled silently, and went still, faking a surrender that he in no way felt. After a moment, the weight lifted off his back. He got up slowly, awkwardly, cradling his injured arm. There was blood oozing down from under his sleeve where the axe wound had reopened a little. He heard the muttering start up around him, but didn't look back as he stalked painfully out. His heart hurt as much as his arm. The doctors had been right when they told him he couldn't fight anymore. No farm. No army service. No dreams. Never any dreams that came true. Not for him. Not now.
word count: 435
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Not the best of days

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Jachiel


Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: NA (solo thread)
Structure: 5/ 5
Knowledge:


Detection: Slight noises can be warning of something or someone approaching.
Detection: Keep an eye on where you are
Detection: Spotting familiar signs
Detection: Working out the slope of the surface you're standing on
Detection: The sound of a cobbler's hammer
Detection: Remaining alert to sounds of movement
Detection: Eye movement predict directionality
Endurance: Changes in temperature affect burns
Endurance: Pain of a punch to the face
Endurance: Waiting for the pain to subside
Etiquette: Saying thank you, firmly.
Investigation: Finding where you are in a familiar place by the scenery
Investigation: Identifying shops by sounds
Navigation: Getting your bearings
Running: Through streets.
Unarmed Combat: Attempting to dodge
Unarmed Combat: Wild lashing out
Unarmed Combat: Taking time to aim your punches


Loot:
Injuries: split lip, sore cheek, opened wound. Will take between 15 - 20 trials to heal.
Fame:
Nope
Magic:
These points may NOT be used for arcana

Overview:

General comments.
Story Oh, poor Jachiel! I really love how you write this pc and the honesty of how you portray him. Well written in terms of playing to your skills and I really just want to give him a hug. What a horrid birthday!!
Structure Lovely - no issues.


Please do PM me if you've got any questions
word count: 231
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~~Red in hoof and claw... ~~
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