The Fairly Fair Fellow

[Noth]

The march had been arduous, and leaves now clung to the hybrid’s body as if though they were burrs upon a dog’s fur coat. The suns above were bright, and the wind flowed through the sky in gentle lines that hinted at clear weather for several breaks to come. Assorted clouds dotted themselves throughout the celestial landscape, and the Avriel found himself entranced by their majesty, occasionally mentally scrounging together several to form an image of some relatable creature or place. The hustle and bustle of people was the only sound that interrupted the otherwise surreal scenery, and Noth released a breathy sigh as he returned to the business taking place behind him.

Fairs had always been popular events, and had acted as a way for vagabonds and freaks to put together their talents and earn a living without upsetting the local law enforcement or their superiors. They simultaneously allowed for the talented to showcase their abilities, and for merchants to offer items to otherwise unreachable customers. Citizens of local cities and establishments almost always flocked to fairs as if though they provided a lifeline, and in a way, they certainly did save one from the monotony of farming for a living. Ancient memories of herding sheep flooded to his mind, and he wondered whether or not those moments had been a blessing or a curse. No excitement had meant no danger, after all.

Tents of vibrant and bright reds, greens, oranges, and every other color between speckled the local landscape, surrounded by a pulsating mass of flesh as the crowds of nearby villages and cities struggled to find what intrigued them. The Avriel joined their ranks, nudging past several waiting farmers with a harsh glare, and receiving a rapid elbow in the side from a bumpkin who refused to step aside. He grunted slightly, shoving past him in an attempt at keeping his inner fire under control; it simply wouldn’t do for him to incite a fight when surrounded so thoroughly.

Trinkets and baubles peppered the hands of foreign merchants who wore sly smiles and guarded expressions. One shifted by the twilight hybrid, and he listened intently to the rhythmic jingle of loose coins attached to the merchant’s side as he greeted a young lady manning a flower stand.

Some of the tents were clearly in better use than others, and Noth found himself wandering towards the outskirts of the fair, nearer to worn-down tents with holes patched roughly out of spare cloth, and the apparent stench of the unwanted. Perhaps these fairgoers were poorer than their brethren, or perhaps they were ostracized as outcasts for racial or social reasons. Nonetheless, they were far more likely to offer competitive prices than the monopolizing enterprises stationed near the center of the fair, and thus the monetarily poor Avriel found himself scouring the outer limits of the fair in hopes of locating anything that might peak his interest.

His crimson eyes settled upon a tent, apparently unmarked, though it was possible that the sign had simply been hung towards the outside in an attempt at luring in those who traveled from the woods. Acknowledging that he had nothing better to do throughout the remainder of the trial, the hybrid determined that he would browse, and that drive sent him towards the lone cloth structure.

[Patrick]

Within the lesser aligned and much loosely organized area of tents dwelt the better of the freaks, many of which banned together to pool visitor and tourist alike with their own gifts. One such tattered tent with dimly lit lanterns belonged to Patrick, the darkened fabrics of his own fortress pattered within the wind as heavy smoke of incense loomed out through cracks and tears.

Within was delicately placed pillows to create a cushioned fortress for him and his companions, two of the others from his general place in the show resided within his arms; their hands all over his chest underneath the silken vest he wore. "What else do you see in the future?" One of the women asked expectantly as her finger trailed up underneath his chin, Patrick curled his tongue with a soft purr as he nipped the tip of the finger seductively.

"Here in 'bout... five trills?" He hinted at something sinister with the woman, his eyes well enough able to tell what his lips kept silent. Both of the ladies giggled a little but before anything could occur, entered one of the other freaks of their little circus joint. Right. On. Cue.

"You're not one of the others who work here, otherwise I wouldn't even need to think t' recognize that look." Patrick pointed out as the two women looked up to the mysterious creature before them, it was as though some sort of bird had been twisted by magic into his current form. Fierce eyes that pierced the flesh and into the soul with their fiery gaze, the being before him strolled on in as though he were... curious actually. Had he actually intended to visit this tent or did he just pick it at random? No matter.

"Ten bits loves," He remarked upon the question earlier, the corner of his mouth crooked into a smirk then. He looked up expectantly at the creature before him as the women eased up a little, and allowed him to lean forward to scoot before him a low wooden table. On it was a stack of cards that, strangely, he'd never interacted with in his life. Yet here and now, he knew exactly just what those cards were and what they represented.

"Have ya come t' hear the Fates?" He inquired as though he could speak for them, able to commune with whatever higher powers deigned this a fabricated reality.

[Noth]

He couldn’t help but notice that the tent was very poorly lit, though he supposed it must have been for atmosphere. Nonetheless, he made certain that his steps were light, and made sure to ease each foot forward ahead of the other so as not to trip upon some unseen obstacle. A sweet smelling odor lashed against his face, drawing itself pleasantly into his olfactory senses and causing his eyes to water spontaneously as they combated the smoke of incense. Assorted holes dotted themselves throughout the tent, apparently acting as ways for the smoke to exit, and allowing for piercing rays of sunlight to jab through the cloth.

Talons sank slowly into the ground, and the twilight hybrid nearly elicited a grunt of panicked confusion until he recognized what he had stepped upon; a pillow. The foot gradually lifted upwards, retracting the blade-like instruments from the pillow, and attempting to hide the way they had nearly slashed it open on accident by brushing it aside towards the entrance of the structure. Crimson eyes settled upon three individuals, two of them on the wings attached to the central figure like lampreys to a fish, parasites to a warm body. Their grasping appendages seemed to disappear into his chest, though he understood that they were simply retreating under an article of clothing, and that the foul lighting was making the interaction appear far more morbid than it truly warranted.

The central figure noticed his entrance and spoke up, stating that if he had been another occupant of the fair, then he would have instantly recognized the hybrid. That wasn’t terribly surprising given Noth’s appearance. It seemed unlikely that there would be many Avriel around, and of those, it was even more unlikely that they would be absolutely coated in twilight feathers, and possess his flaming eyes. On the other hand, the man in front of him reeked of the same slimy and deceitful attitude of every charlatan who possessed his ‘abilities’. He wasn’t entirely certain that the pair of woman weren’t placed there on purpose so as to relax him and throw off his perceptive abilities, but he ensured that his eyes did not stray as they removed themselves from the room.

The man questioned; in a particularly thick accent, whether or not Noth had come to hear the Fates. He wasn’t entirely familiar with the Fates, but he vaguely understood the concept of Fate itself. It seemed to be the idea that certain activities were destined to occur, though that was particularly dreadful sounding to the hybrid, because it meant that if he was pre-determined to do something, then he had no opportunity to stop calamity. It meant that every death happened for a reason, and that accidents had been decided by some grand malevolence. He was a murderer, but even he could not imagine condemning the entirety of life itself to the terrible cyclical nature of life and death wherein they could not even hope to save themselves.

Nevertheless, he felt that this particularly charlatan might somehow train his perceptive abilities, and if not, then perhaps he could learn some of his deceptive tricks for later use. With that thought in mind, he nodded his agreement to the interrogative, and sat himself down upon a nearby pillow, curious eyes boring into the fellow.

“Of course. Please, let me know of fate, wise one.” He couldn't have stuffed more sarcasm into the title if he had tried.

[Patrick]

The creature that entered found himself a place before Patrick while his entertainment left the tent, privacy now provided between the two as the drunk reached over for a table. Once he scooted the wooden surface closer til it was between him and this ominous figure, he gestured a hand over the surface of it with but a swipe through the air.

Upon the table underneath the area of his palm appeared a stack of cards, something that somehow 'materialized' before Noth upon the swipe of Patrick's hand. "The Fates are many things," He mused at the sound of Noth's sarcasm, "most importantly they're insightful if willing to cooperate." Did Patrick know such things? Not entirely. Even he didn't understand how fate worked, just that he controlled his own.

"Would you mind tapping the top of the stack for me?" He requested of the hybrid with legs tucked into a cross over, he readjusted the cushions as he watched for the action to occur when Noth reached out to touch the stack. "Fantastic." He remarked as a hand went out to grab the whole stack, brought it in to shuffle the entire deck with both hands, then used both hands to create three even stacks of cards from the deck.

"First we'll do a bit of pokin' around just to see if I can read into ya." Patrick said to his visitor as he drew cards from the top of the two outer stacks, and placed them facing up next to the middle stack. The first of the two depicted two swords parallel to each other, pointed opposite from one another however, and one of the two had the color sanguine decorated upon it.

The second card resembled a pasture with a four way crossroad, something that his brows furrowed at when he looked upon them. "Would you mind drawing a card from the middle stack, anywhere within the stack is fine as its a card you must pick." Patrick instructed as he looked between the two cards for further interpretation.

[Noth]

The cushions were surprisingly cozy given the run-down state of the tent. The twilight hybrid examined the holes in the tent more fully, taking note of their number and frequency throughout the cloth construction. Clearly, the man before him was not a very popular reader of the Fates, or else he would have been able to afford a far more spacious and comfortable working space. Nonetheless, the raggedness of the tent reminded Noth of ancient stories of oracles and seers, and he wondered whether or not there might be some inherent validity granted to the charlatan created solely by his run-down abode.

Distracted thoughts kept the Avriel from noticing the appearance of the set of cards, but the after-image of his hand moving swiftly through the air, and the coupling appearance of the wind pushed by the movement made it clear that they had been placed there in the past few moments. It was rather spectacular sleight of hand, he noted, though that thought only reinforced his hypothesis that the man was an absolute fraud. What need did a true seer have for the ability to conceal and rapidly produce a deck of cards other than for the sake of drama?

Words tumbled forth from the mouth of the seer, who stated that the Fates were insightful if they could be coaxed into cooperation. A number of questions flooded his mind as he considered that statement, wondering what sort of thing a group of Fates might desire. Could they simply be bribed like a corrupt Etzori guardsman? What were they even bribed with? What use could a spiritual entity have for petty gold and copper, for weak steel and bronze, for precious ivory and gleaming jewels? That raised another question; were the Fates even spiritual beings? He had assumed based upon the seer’s occupation that they must have been, but the idea of fate itself was a fascinating concept to the hybrid. He felt inclined to believe that fate was not set into stone upon the moment of someone’s conception, and thus, was he not an instrument of Fate himself? If he could alter prophecy and change the course of history, what was to say that he himself and all those like him were not Fate?

Lazily, the hybrid placed his hand obediently upon the top of the stack. Nothing occurred for a brief moment, and once more the Avriel questioned what manner of game was being played. A pair of cards were drawn forth from the set, and the appearance of opposed bladed instruments was placed upon the first. He couldn’t help but to assume that this represented conflict of some manner, and a light chuckle escaped his lips. Of course, everyone faced conflict of some form and faculty throughout their existences, and so it would be a fallacy to assume that the ‘Fates’ had truly determined much of anything.

He examined the second card with more scrutiny, determining that it depicted an agricultural scene. That was fitting given the locality, and once more Noth felt calmed by the realization that these cards were incredibly generic. The words of the seer commanded him once more, and; obeying out of sheer curiosity, he drew forth a final card, keeping it concealed as he slid it towards the seer.

[Patrick]

Patrick studied the being before him and so far he could see it plain as day, there existed speculation within the feathery man's features even in this moment. The way he looked upon the cards presented already, as well as the one drawn and placed down before Patrick; surely this had to be nothing more than some con or farce. In way it was but only because that's all part of it, the scheme of the reading was to take speculation and interpretation into account. They went hand in hand here but almost diversely, such a manner that Patrick himself felt foolish to try and grasp.

With the card faced down though Patrick grinned as he looked from it to Noth, a questionable smirk on his face as he once again gave the sleight of hand as before. With the gesture of movement the card, once down, now faced up with the image revealed before them. A hooded figure cloaked with shadows and smoke, with his scythe clutched eerily with bony fingers; Noth had chosen the card of The Grim. Now with the three cards before him, Patrick had only to read into the cards to determine their meaning. The Dual Blades represented alternations in realities, differences in fabrications of perception, but there meaning went deeper the more Patrick focused on them.

"I'm receiving some ill intent vibes from this card," He pointed to the first card as he said this, "something tells me you're adverse to the normality of things. Not just by your physical appearance but by your approach on life. You've hurt people." His smile had faded the further he read into it. "A lot of people actually. Which comes to the conclusion of the Crossroads card here." He pointed to the second with the four way path depicted within. "You've some hefty decisions to make, decisions that you'll live with for the rest of your life mate. All with certain regrets to burden along the way, whether they're alone or not remains in part with your choices."

Then finally The Grim card was his primary focus, a glance up to Noth followed before Patrick furrowed his brow. "Interestin'ly enough ya drew this card, usually his appearance depicts just the very thing I mentioned. Regret." Patrick paused for a moment as he further gazed intently into the card. "The Fates tell me that you're one who has made plenty of choices, many bad while others not so much, you're a character whose interest aligns with those who'll help you. Something tells me that you're... a seeker. Perhaps? But what it is you're looking for isn't ordinary, nor material much like wealth or fame. You seek more, something not many would dare to seek."

Patrick sighed as he leaned back into his cushions, his eyes brimmed with curiosity as they fell upon Noth once more. "You're a bit of an interestin' anomaly well enough, surely you've found some hint of meaning within the cards?" He inquired as he watched the feathery figure with interest.

[Noth]

The cards had all been chosen, and the gaze of the seer was upon him, likely attempting to read his personality or traits so that they could be intertwined into the meaning of the cards. It was an entirely factitious practice, but despite that he was somewhat intrigued as to what would be revealed about him. There was a fair chance that some of the information would be vaguely correct, but the idea that someone might know so much about you without any background information bothered him. He had taken special precautions in ensuring that his activities and their inherent violence would not be associated directly with him, namely by executing all witnesses to his crimes of anger and necessity.

Another showing of sleight of hand was displayed to the hybrid, and instantaneously his chosen card was revealed, and he immediately felt a lump appear within his throat. Yes, that was exactly what he had chosen, in more than one sense. The card displayed a hooded and clearly undead figure holding a farmer’s implement. That was obviously symbolic, though he couldn’t quite understand the direct correlation other than the assumption that it might harvest life or death. He had chosen that card with his own finger, and thusly it was clear that it applied directly to him, but he wasn’t sure in what manner. Was it referencing his gathering of life and displays of death?

For perhaps the first time throughout the entire charade, Noth decided to heed the instructions and counsel of the seer in an attempt at garnering information as to what the cards meant in relation with himself. He spoke, stating that he was receiving the impression of ill intent from the card of dual blades. He further stated that it revealed that the twilight hybrid was adverse to normality, especially in the aspect of life. His next words caused the Avriel to stiffen slightly, his feathers to ruffle automatically as he prepared to be seized by guards and be forced to fight his way out of the tent. He could quite easily overpower a single human; no matter their abilities, with his sheer ferocity, but guards seldom traveled alone.

Cautious and crimson eyes glanced over his shoulder, and; once satisfied that no one was coming, lay themselves upon the seer with a suspicious glare. He had hurt a lot of people. It was a thought that seldom came to mind except for in the waning hours of the night, or the first glimmers of dawn in the morning. It was a thought locked away into an abyss and then avoided for fear that to accept the knowledge from the abyss was to accept its control. He didn’t like the idea of hurting people, in fact, he felt somewhat sickened by the idea of running amok person to person and striking them until they surrendered to his will.

Necessity.

The word hammered itself through his conscious, and he listened to it repeat over and over within his mind, a screaming and gnawing word that tore chunks out of whatever order he attempted to impose upon himself. He saw faces, some grimy and filthy, others clean and fresh. He heard voices that would never speak again, felt skin cold as ice. He remembered the looks of terror that always crossed someone’s face before they died. It was always the same. There was a flicker of disappointment in the eyes, followed by a curling of the lips in terror, the teeth were often bared like a wild dog, vainly attempting to ward off destruction. There were the pleading whimpers, and the silent prayers sung in the hearts of the martyrs as oblivion embraced them.

He had killed them all. They had all left the world, but no matter what he did, he could not escape from their haunted expressions, could not run from what he had become.

A fierce expression drew itself across the face of the hybrid as the seer continued, stating that he was meant to feel regret from the next card. Had the charlatan seen the internal pain? Had it crept so handily to the surface of his blue flesh and revealed itself without despite his intentions of maintaining it within himself?

Noth was told that he was a seeker, though not one who pursued the common things; fame, wealth, glory, but instead something completely different, something that seldom dare pursue. He considered that statement for a moment, mulling over it before coming to a distinct conclusion. The seer finished his speech, stating that the hybrid was an interesting anomaly, and questioning whether or not he had come to any conclusions over things.

Remarkably, he had.

“You are correct. I have hurt others, more than I can remember. I have slain some in war, ripped their flesh from their bones for causes I didn’t believe in, and I have murdered others whilst they slept for the sake of a set of clothes.” He gulped, swallowing down the regret that followed such actions.

“I feel, yes. There are some throughout the world that are unnatural, some who feel nothing, but I feel. I murder, but I feel, and I am not unnatural whatsoever in that regard. No, instead, I am quite natural. I am the byproduct of a world that feels hate, that glimmers and glows with rage unbound. My disposition is inevitable, you strike a dog with your feet and eventually the hound shall snap and bite you.” He paused, wistfully glaring at a corner of the tent.

“The malevolence I carry in my eyes is that of unjust genesis, the burden of life’s betrayal. Idalos does not heal. It is stricken by plague and sword. It has become a whirlwind of agony, of pain, of sorrows so great that they cannot be expressed in words, sorrows that trap themselves in the heart and refuse to leave.”

“The world is a storm, tumultuous, changing. It hurts others, and yet refuses to stop. It cares not for the misfortunate nor the wounded, the starving or the ill. You question my goal, and you are correct in assuming that it is not something that many would strive after, because it seems folly. For all the violence inherent in my actions, I seek peace. I seek the death of the beings that would plunge us into war for eternity.”

“We Avriel are gifted with a sight for the wind. I see the storm, shall I not unravel it?”

[Patrick]

When Noth admitted to Patrick being correct the harlot gave a skeptical look, undoubtedly Patrick altercations deep within himself over the reading. Sure he seemed to have some decent bit of insight as to what he said, but truly he didn't believe he was accurate with his simplistic act of reading a few cards. Did the Fates really tell him what he knew then? It posed an interesting question he'd have to debate later, as he now had somewhat of a fixed interlock with Noth.

The man admitted to many things in just a short span of time. Hurting, maiming, killing even. All of which stirred shock and surprise within Patrick, while he outwardly watched in curious the myriad of controversy sitting before him. In a way the being spoke poetically of his actions and this, while alarming, somehow managed to rectify the cause behind all of it. Even so it meant that this man lived not just as danger upon others as well as himself, he very well lived to be the menace to society none really knew about. That kind of aspect did intimidate Patrick and he no doubt looked highly aware, wary of any sudden movements the bird-like man would make before him.

Patrick literally had goosebumps all up and down his arm, and yet even so he found himself oddly able to keep calm. This man... he had yet to do any harm to Patrick, and while that remained to be see the harlot definitely saw something else. Profit. Not just for himself but for Noth as well, profit that could in turn help expand upon Pat's current ambition. "A fierce and yet interesting perspective you hold." He responded as he looked down to the cards once more, mainly the Crossroads, and considered the options that were on hand. It was a card that resembled possibility, choice even, and right now Patrick felt that the card spoke to both of them. Now more than ever.

"Tell me what sort of authority do you have, in your constant struggle to cease the storm you seek to end? What is exact in your world and what isn't? And more importantly; are you aware of all the options available to you?" Patrick inquired to the man as he slid the card into the center, the other two somehow just plainly gone as though they were never there to begin with.

[Noth]

Fear.

The twilight hybrid had made a living on the singular emotion, one of the most powerful of its kind. Fear caused a plethora of differing reactions, and it was absolutely fascinating to observe if one could gather enough subjects. Some of them would invariably react in the stereotypical manner and attempt to flee or flinch away from whatever was ailing them, but others would simply stand completely still, as if though fear itself was a wild beast which was unable to view them so long as they refrained from any exterior movements. Others carried strange ticks, and their faces would flick and twist as they struggled with the internalized emotion.

The charlatan who seemed far more legitimate now than he had at first carried no externally visible signs of fear, but the hybrid knew that it must have been present in his system. He had remained fairly calm throughout the entire ordeal, and afterwards Noth felt certain that he had revealed far too much about his life, and it left him with a sickening sensation in his stomach. He hardly knew the man, and yet here he was divulging the worst of his secrets, the greatest atrocities that he had committed. The fellow knew far too much now, and the twilight hybrid gradually began to resign himself to the upcoming task of bludgeoning the newly found Fates-man into a pulp.

Yet, when he at least spoke, his words were not nearly as frightful as the twilight hybrid had anticipated, and he questioned for an instance whether or not he might have happened upon a kindred soul. Certainly there were those amidst the fair who committed criminal activities, but these were far more likely to be thieves and con artists than the more violent robbers and killers. Nonetheless, it was possible that he had simply stumbled upon an enforcer for the fair, and that the man who waited calmly ahead of him had dedicated his livelihood to cracking fingers and busting the knees of those who denied payment to the fair.

Crimson eyes bored into their counterpart, attempting to discern some hint or sudden revelation that would showcase the man’s true standpoint on matters. If they were of a similar kind, then perhaps he would not have to bludgeon him after all, and they might even work together in some manner to achieve a far greater profit than might have been gained individually. Of course, he could also always be invited into the murderous Avriel’s faction of cutthroats and scum.

The man spoke once more, questioning what sort of authority he possessed, and apparently inquiring into his resources. There was an uncomfortable shiver that ran its course up Noth’s spine, an inkling suspicion that he was being played by the seer. Still, there was little doubt that he could simply overpower the man should it come to that, and he had already revealed that he was a serial killer and a murderer. The situation could not be worsened terribly by simply answering the questions, and the lingering possibility of alliance and profit were ever-present in the process.

“I am the leader of a faction known as the Al’Angyryl. There are… several of us.”
He spoke quietly so that no one outside of the tent might overhear their conversation. He was also particularly vague about their number, because such information could be used against them.

“We lack official funding, but we are able to supply ourselves through acts of robbery. We seek to overthrow the tyrannical regime of Etzos, and to install our own government through which we might begin a larger-scale operation, and eventually create peace upon Idalos.”

“Tell me. What is your name? Where do you come from? Why do you question such things?”

[Patrick]

Patrick leaned back a little with a curve into his lips that suggested deep occupation, as he mulled over the name and the significance it held with Noth. Al’Angyryl. Patrick hadn't heard of such a faction honestly, then again he'd hardly been outside of Rharne save for a couple of seasons. So where in Idalos were they? How did he avoid crossing their path? Or rather... how could he see that they help him on his own path?

Etzos? Patrick had never been there in his life but now that he heard of it, he had to wonder just what sort of place it had to be. If Noth seemed to originate from there then surely, it had to likely be a place full of dangers one should doubly watch out for. Yet the sort of ambitious goal they seek to achieve with their group... even if the means of violence is at large brutish, they held to themselves a code which seemed pretty productive actually. With such methods that produce such results, Patrick could only wonder even deeper what the chances of meeting here actually were. Fate. How twisted did its sense of humor get really?

"I've been raised with the name Patrick." He answered with his eyes still focused on the Crossroads card, he then looked to Noth with careful integrity while he spoke. "I originate from a place where the ale flows freely all around, and my purpose these days is to ask questions such as these." The bartender mused as he looked back down to the card once more, he then took the deck and shuffled it a few times until he felt satisfied with the order. When he drew out a card to himself for his own ambiguous answer, he chuckled at the response the cards seemed to present towards his own personal question.

"Somethin' tells me the both of us want the same thing, just have different approaches toward it." He mused as he placed the card face down. "I'm workin' on a personal project here recently, and I need friends that come from all walks of life. Yours included. With the right kind of people to can trust, I'm sure there can be mutually beneficial gains for someone like you and I." Patrick reasoned with the implication that Noth could very well find purpose, if not interest, in contributing towards this project the bartender had in the works.