Original Submissions
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Memoir #14 - The Tuluki Soldier (Sid) by Rairen
Added on Dec 29, 2009While in a lesson, a blunt tool of the northern Legions teaches a too self-assured Circle bard a lesson in humility.
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles. Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood extends from the northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by two rounded tables.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman dips a nod to the robust, head-shaven man after finding a path to the bar.
The figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard has arrived from the west.
The figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard tugs back her hood.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman leans back against the bar - and then catches sight of the figure in a long, hooded red and white tabard with narrowed eyes and a smile.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman lowers the hood of a long, hooded red and white tabard.
Pushing in her direction, you say to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, in sirihish:
"Sid, good to see you well."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman beats dust from her tabard as she walks.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman pauses at the spangled-blond, muscular woman's side, touching a hand to her elbow.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman says to you, in sirihish:
"And you."
Tilting her head in the direction of the other room, you say to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, in sirihish:
"Perhaps you'd care for a quieter booth? I'll confess to my own foolishness, as I left home without a ‘sid to my name."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman dips her head to you before peering around her, eyes the rougher looking patrons suspiciously.
(hemote) The crisp aroma of mint lingers in the air around the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Lemme see if I'm fixed any better"
The spangled-blond, muscular woman gets her pile of coins from her sunburst-buckled, hardened leather sword belt.
With a rueful twist to her smile, you say to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, in sirihish:
"I'll owe you, hm? It's a terrible oversight, I know."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman asks, in sirihish:
"We can't even afford an ale. How bout we sit and talk, dry?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives a soft, incredulous laugh as she bows her head in the spangled-blond, muscular woman's direction.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Unless you think you can charm him into giving us one for eight sid? You've got a more winning way than me."
the robust, head-shaven man has the following goods to trade:
09) a rough clay mug of ale for 10 obsidian coins.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman tilts her head toward the bar, indicating the robust, head-shaven man.
Glancing over to the robust, head-shaven man, jaw working to one side, you say to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, in sirihish:
"Hm... I wonder if I could. It seems we travel to match - I'm carrying eight on me, too."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman lifts up a finger to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, pale eyes narrowed with mirth as she pushes back toward a curved, agafari bar.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman pushes herself up on a curved, agafari bar, leaning forward to share hushed words with the robust, head-shaven man.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman crosses her arms, relaxing into a slump.
The robust, head-shaven man angrily insists on keeping the price the same for a rough clay mug.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman pushes a few coins in one hand as she offers the robust, head-shaven man a rueful, wry smile.
Amused, you whisper to the robust, head-shaven man in sirihish:
"Next time, next time. I'll not forget this, friend."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman slings your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel over her shoulder again as she rejoins the spangled-blond, muscular woman with a helpless shrug.
You notice: Standing in a lazy slouch, the spangled-blond, muscular woman seems amused, the slight twitch of a smile giving her away.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman says to you, in sirihish:
"You can pretend you're a soldier. Eat some rations. Drink some water been in the skin long enough to get that taste."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman falls in behind you.
Mirth to her tone, still, you whisper to the spangled-blond, muscular woman in sirihish:
"To think he couldn't do a bard a favor. I'll find a way to get even with him, I promise."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman asks you, in sirihish:
"Where'd you want to sit?"
As she finds a 'clear' path toward the next room, you say to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, in sirihish:
"... Oh? I doubt even rations and water could make me a soldier. Remind me to tell you of southern foods, by the by, sometime. It makes rations seem a feast."
A Secluded Alcove [S]
Separated from the main room by a curtain of beaded fringe, this booth
provides a small measure of privacy. The haze of sweet spice smoke mixed
with the exotic seasonings of the food combine in an aroma that is almost
intoxicating by itself. Benches made of thickly stuffed, dun-colored tandu leather line each side of this booth and a sturdy table made of thick cylini planks stands between them. The walls behind the benches are covered with a worn sandcloth tapestry depicting a raging sandstorm on one side and a wagon caravan on the other. Hanging from the wall in between is the bleached skull of some large grasslands creature.
With a glance over her shoulder, shrill voice pitched to carry, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says to you, in sirihish:
"That's fine. When you're flush he won't be the one you tip."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs, gesturing to one bench for the spangled-blond, muscular woman as she reaches for the curtain.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman seems unable to completely repress a grin, as she slides her bulk onto a bench.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, a knowing smile dancing at the corner of her mouth:
"You already seem an expert on politics, Sid. What by all that is good do you need me for?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Seriously, don't tip the fucker. Why? Cause I'm always curious about shit there ain't no one to ask."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Ain't like I can question the chosen or the Faithful, and no one explains nothing to me, cause it ain't gonna help me catch thieves or break up fights."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft breath, very nearly a laugh:
"Point very truly taken. I'll do what I can then, to be that... resource for you - and if I can't answer the question, I can assuredly attempt to do so through my own means."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, glancing to the ceiling for a moment, smiling still:
"As for the tipping, I don't intend on it, until it becomes more pertinent to do so. As it is, I could likely get us six drinks from a penitent Kuraci, no? "
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Likely so. In the end, might have been a favor he done you, poor fuck."
(hemote) No small amount of ironic amusement lingers in the ethereal, fair-haired woman's pale eyes.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a quiet nod to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"Is there something on your mind, then, in particular? Politics is a... vast topic, if interesting one."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Lots of things. Lots of questions. Like, what's the tax on the grasslands about?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a mild lift of her brow:
"A very, very good question. It's a question I'm... researching, although I haven't learned the answer yet. My understanding is overhunting."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I know Uaptal, put it out, and it's aimed at the merchant houses, just the four big ones or all of them? They all piss off Uaptal or just a couple? And how do the other chosen feel bout it?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight lift of one hand:
"Fewer animals bring more dangerous ones closer to the city and so on."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Oh. Well, that seems more practical than political."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman pauses glancing from the spangled-blond, muscular woman to one gloved hand before she cracks a smile.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, in a softer tone, her nod careful:
"It does seem that, but as with many things... political, they often have more than one motive."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So, if tomorrow you decided that you just had to chase down a tregil, you have to hand over a leg?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, her tone assuring, unconcerned:
"I'm not certain the full terms of it, but yes, it seems that in most cases there will be taxes paid for it - to House Uaptal, as you said."
You think:
"... Just be careful, little Aja."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"When a hunter asks me if they got to pay a tax, what do I tell them? Go find Chosen Lady Shara?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, taking a breath than sighing:
"Sorry, I ain't hardly giving you time to answer. I hope I ain't gonna leave you feeling interrogated."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of a smile, still:
"That would be my advice. I would also inquire of His Faithful if you are responsible for enforcing the taxes of the Chosen Governors."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman nods a few times.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, tone assuring, again, as she lifts a mild hand:
"Please, it is good practice for me, I promise you that. My Masters are even quicker tongued than you, friend."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight shrug of her slender shoulders:
"As a point of fact, I'd be curious as to their answer on that, as well. Given how many questions are arising about this tax, it might help... spread word more effectively."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"If I asked you for your -opinion- of what the tax is about, could you give me a less polite answer with a bit more meat to it? Or would that just make you uncomfortable, and get me more of the same?"
Pale eyes trailing over her as she offers her a languid smile, you look at the spangled-blond, muscular woman.
White and silver threads, interspersed through the shades of gold and
yellow, create the illusion of sparkle in a blunt, shoulder-length,
perfectly straight growth of thick hair. Her brows and lashes are just
plain white. The darkness of her nut brown skin is marred by lighter
scarred flesh. An odd shade of greenish blue, her eyes look like a marriage of jade and moonstone trapped in slanted almond crescents. This woman's face is completed by a low bridged nose, and narrow mouth. The hollow of her neck is deep, while the muscles stand out, like a foreshadowing of the bulging sinewy brawn that covers long limbs. The softness of her breasts and hips in no way detract from air of strength that emanates from this woman.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a softer tone as she adjusts the clasp to your hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak:
"I can, if you like, though I would not have my supposition taken - or spread throughout the city - for fact. If that is not unacceptable, then I can give my... conjecture."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman looks back, levelly, expression disclosing nothing but curiosity.
(hemote) he ethereal, fair-haired woman studies the spangled-blond, muscular woman, pale eyes pensive.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, lips moving finally into a slow smile:
"I keep my mouth shut."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I ain't quite as foolish as the bartender. I can think ahead to next time I want a question answered."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, returning the spangled-blond, muscular woman's smile:
"And I am a servant to His Faithful and an instructor to His Legions. My largest question about the tax is what will be done with the coin it collects."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman's eyebrows slowly climb as the seconds beat off in the aftermath of your statement.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, her voice taking on a tutorial, patient cadence:
"While taxes can be prohibitive, I find it unlikely that the value of additional coin has gone unnoticed."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Yeh, well, there's an interesting question I'd have never thought of."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, glancing to the curtain which blocks sight of the noisier room beyond:
"I know House Uaptal and House Lyksae enjoy a rivalry between those Houses, and I know House Lyksae has shown prominence of late in service with the Alliance."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, smile relaxed:
"To what ends House Uaptal will use it, I don't know. Perhaps simply to have the ability to do so."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman glances too at the table and turns back to you head moving in a slow nod.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a tilt of her head to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"But if I were to start... looking further into this, I would question current development projects sponsored by House Uaptal as well as the rivalry with House Lyksae."
You think:
"But why not Dasari? Why, why..."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So, listen..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, after a pause, glancing back to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"... Always. Go on."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Sometimes, if I wanted to know what someone's up to, maybe I don't ask them nothing."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Maybe I let them ask me, and what they're asking, it shows something you know?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, a smile warming her tone:
"Yes, I know. You do this often, Sid?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"But sometimes it don't. And I got a lot of time to think, sometimes I'm patrolling the old quarter, and I'm just thinking."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman crosses her legs beneath your flowing white linen skirt, pale eyes watching the spangled-blond, muscular woman with quiet interest.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So, you think, Who pissed of Uaptal and from there, next thing you know, you're wondering if it means the Kadian's are going to be cutting back on blue. Or..."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So, I thought I'd ask stuff, and then I thought if I ask, maybe it sounds like I know shit I don't."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Or I'm implying shit I ain't."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And what would be made of that?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, giving a soft breath as she tilts her head from one side to the other:
"Valid concerns, particularly in your position, where justness is so important."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, trailing off and then shaking her head:
"I ain't overburdened with no one asking me to do much more than make sure there ain't no one robbing the stores or getting drunk and throwing up on the Chosen's shoes."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, after a longer pause as she touches a hand to her chest to still the glass bells chiming there:
"... And that does leave a great amount of time to think, doesn't it?"
contact shara
You contact the svelte, top-knotted woman with the Way.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So, no, I don't question too many people. But before I was a Legionnaire, I been on my own, and you learn to take what advantages you can, when you got to."
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, top-knotted woman:
"My pardon for intruding on your mind, Chosen Lady. I've been receiving numerous questions regarding the recent tax on the grasslands, and I'm not certain how to answer them or who to direct them to."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Yeh, so I guess I'm just curious about what ifs."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, top-knotted woman:
"If you or House Uaptal have a preference, I would be more than happy to direct people in the appropriate ways."
The svelte, top-knotted woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Good Morning Aja? Tax on the grasslands? Who has been asking about this particularly?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of a smile still as she studies the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"Hm. Well. I suppose it sounds as though you wish you had more answers and less... intangible things to think on. I can suggest strategies, of course, though none will be... perfect."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Like if them two houses ain't getting on, does it mean they smile or snub? Did it all break out before or after the ball to honor the new Chosen Lord and Consort? And if it happened after would Chosen Lord Thrend still have gone?"
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, top-knotted woman:
"Hunters in the Sanctuary, Chosen Lady, among others."
You think:
"... And we are all curious, I know."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, leaning toward you, expression intent:
"Could you? And I wouldn't get in trouble with em?"
The svelte, top-knotted woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Well, hmm, the only entity I have spoken with about a hunting -license- is House Kadius thus far."
The svelte, top-knotted woman sends you a telepathic message:
"And Kelsin - actually, so I'm not entirely sure where all of this is springing up, but while a future license is being discussed to prevent over hunting.... nothing has been finalized yet."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a curious smile:
"I could, of course - though if I might ask, when you said would Chosen Lord Thrend still have gone... Has he gone?"
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, top-knotted woman:
"Intriguing. I fear I am as at a loss as you, Chosen Lady. Thank you for the clarification, and I apologize then for troubling you over such a minor matter."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's brow creases, ever so slightly.
The svelte, top-knotted woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Oh no, thank you for enlightening me Aja - you're very helpful as always. I'm still hoping you can give a group etiquette lesson soon. I shall meet you for payment soon as well."
The svelte, top-knotted woman sends you a telepathic message:
"What was our total again?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, shaking her head:
"Meant Chosen Governer Shara gave the ball, and Chosen Governor Thrend attended."
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, top-knotted woman:
"We're just a small, Chosen Lady, and I'll look forward to working more closely with your House in the future."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Did he attend even though they ain't getting on? Or were they in a better cheer with each other at the time?"
The svelte, top-knotted woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Wonderful! High Templar Elithan wise as usual, was quiet keen to snatch you up so quickly as a partisan Aja."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight nod:
"Yes, of course. My pardon for that - and I don't know when the rivalry began to truly intensify. I've only noticed it recently in discussions with His Chosen."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And what's it mean to be a governor?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, sighing:
"See? One question gives rise to the next, and there ain't no end to it."
You send a telepathic message to the svelte, top-knotted woman:
"Thank you for your kind words, Chosen Lady. I hope I might always work to deserve them."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And this is just in the time we're sitting here."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of a smile:
"... I enjoy it, although not everyone does. It's a bit of a puzzle, trying to put all of the pieces, all of the questions in place."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"But, see, you're a bard. You're supposed to be curious."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I'm meant to shut up, and do what I'm told, quick and quiet. I ain't supposed to think too much."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, laughter in her tone:
"... Am I, now? You speak of us like you would that tregil you were going to hunt down in the grasslands. It does happen, though, that I enjoy puzzles."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a softer, fonder tone:
"And no, His Faithful would never want you mindless, thoughtless, Sid. That's how the southerners work."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, another grin coming reluctantly at first:
"I ain't thought of it that way. I meant no offense, you know."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wryly:
"And you can see what good it's brought them. His Faithful want you to think, Sid, they want you to know and to be able to help. And you're very smart, which would make it a shame to waste a gift."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman offers the spangled-blond, muscular woman a smile and shake of her head.
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman studies the spangled-blond, muscular woman with pale, thoughtful eyes, most of her easy levity never reaching them.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I'm flattered you think so, I don't think it's an opinion much shared. It might be it renders you unique."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, smile quirking:
"May I always be unique, and perhaps I am a bit overindulgent where my students are concerned, but I enjoy a person who asks good questions. Who ask questions at all, truly, as too many never do."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman grunts softly with another quick nod.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And then I wondered too, bout the merchants, who're on the receiving end, of the tax."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I wondered what it means to have the power of trade, and how much liberty it gives em."
(hemote) The sleeve to your loose-cut white linen blouse slips down the ethereal, fair-haired woman's shoulder.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"What if... say Kurac did something that wasn't against the law, not that I think they did or anything like that, but say they did."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And it was something that wasn't exactly illegal, but unpopular, what would happen?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"What if... say Kurac did something that wasn't against the law, not that I think they did or anything like that, but say they did."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And it was something that wasn't exactly illegal, but unpopular, what would happen?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, linking her gloved hands in front of her face as she nods:
"I suppose it would depend on how it impacted the rest of the city. No longer supplying theodeliv would be unpopular in the extreme... but not punishable."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, smiling behind clasped hands as she touches them to her lips:
"Though, perhaps then House Tenneshi would stop having them cater parties... and so on, and so on."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Let's say one of the chosen had a pet ratlon that got lost. And they were out on the road near the post and decided to spit it and roast?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight shrug of her shoulders:
"If it was Kuraci outriders, I would say that they may get slapped on the wrist, at worst, but only if an Agent is brought in and the Chosen's House decided to leverage this against them for relative gains."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Let's say it was Brethel. He's got an appetite. I bet he could eat the better part of a ratlon, no matter how tough it might be."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman grins.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a sudden, genuine smile:
"... Your point is noted. Assuming it to be an Agent of Kurac and assuming they knew and ignored that it was a pet of His Chosen and assuming His Chosen learned of it accurately - all significant assumptions, by..."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, pale eyes narrowed, thoughtful:
"By the by. I would imagine that he would claim it an accident or that the animal was lame or that it was done for desperate need. And likely repay the loss in ale and Kuraci spice."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, brow creasing:
"Would the Chosen House actively seek reimbursement? I doubt House Kurac would give them time to."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Let's say for the sake of argument that all the things you said as ifs were so, except that last. Let's say it was clear that it was done with some malice."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And would it matter which Chosen's pet it was?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of reproach to her smile:
"Sid, for what reason would an Agent of Kurac maliciously harm a pet of a Chosen House? If that be the case, then yes, the actions would be more severe, on His Chosen's part and on House Kurac's."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, tapping a thumb to the table as she nods to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"And yes, it would. Very much so.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, they wouldn't."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Here, this question, I ain't asking you what I really want to know."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I ain't asking cause ..."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"What I want to know's been all settled.... and what I wondered about wasn't so, when I was thinking about it."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, sighing:
"That make sense to you?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft murmur:
"... I think so. Are you worried about wanting to know the possibilities for outcomes as well as the truth of them? In case it ever arises again?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Got nothing to do with Kurac or ratlons. Just something went missing and before we knew where it went I wondered if we might piece it together."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And if it had turned up, in a place that seemed possible, how much trouble would it have caused."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"But it didn't. It's all just wondering."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, fondness creeping into her tone:
"You are part poet and part tactician, Sid, I swear it. If -I- might ask a question, why? Why do you ask the questions? To prepare yourself? For simply the sake of... imagination?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Cause when it happened I wondered. And there was no one to ask. And then it turned out not to be the case, so there was no way to ever know the answer."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And it plagues me like an itch I can't reach."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, tapping her four-fingered hand against the table, mouth quirking:
"I understand that well enough. In the future if these... suppositions occur, I'd be more than glad to listen, even if I can't offer anything but an open mind to you."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I'd appreciate that."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, eyes narrowing:
"You know what I'm talking about?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft breath of laughter:
"... And by all that's good, yes. We have... similarities. I like to listen to people, and I like to ask them questions, to learn. And, in the process, they tell me things - for better or worse."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, wryly, touching a hand to the back of her neck:
"And it becomes an itch, wanting to know the entire story, because there is always... a bigger piece."
It is late at night on Terrin, the 90th day of the Low Sun,
In the Year of Vivadu's Defiance, year 40 of the 21st Age.
You think:
"Eight years. Eight -years-, Aja."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Right."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"It ain't cause I have any business knowing."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Or cause knowing would do me any good."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"It's just that not knowing is so fucking uncomfortable."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Like the whole story with the taxes? What is that?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, working her jaw to one side as she lowers her hand:
"Sid, I can only say again that I know exactly what you mean. You are a soldier. Unknowns do not... suit you."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, after a pause, before she laughs, soft and low:
"I thought we might circle back that way. I had a brief chat with the Chosen Lady while we were speaking."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, inclining her head to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"While I don't know if I can add further enlightenment, the Chosen Lady Shara was most surprised that I was inquiring about the tax on the grasslands."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman laughs, the sound a soft warbling screech, that dies away quickly.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"But, why?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft murmur, assuring:
"I did not mention you, Sid. Thankfully, there was a second person asking me of it, a hunter that I'd never known."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I mean, if you start taxing people, it ain't like a secret. It's a tax. It's levied."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"As to her surprise, she said that the only people she'd mentioned this to were House Kadius and Kelsin, the partisan to Faithful Lord Vraj."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, they ain't the only ones who know."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Some big old hunter was asking me."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Up from Nak, she was, I think."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft breath, nearly a laugh:
"Yes, I know, and I'm surprised that the Chosen Lady did not know that, which makes me think that she does not wish me to publicize this."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"This tax, that is."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So, once Naki hunters know about your tax, it can't be called a secret, can it?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, mouth quirking:
"No, I suppose not. Her assurance, however, was that she had only mentioned a hunting license - not a tax, if I caught her terminology correctly - with House Kadius."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, shaking her head:
"Aja, this is a fucking disappointment. Not you. Not you at all."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"This whole the more you know the no fewer questions you have."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Like reaching back to scratch and the itch moves."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a curious tilt of her head, laughter in her pale eyes:
"... It is a disappointment. Try to find pleasure in the answers when you can, or in using them well. Spice can't take away an itch, but it can... distract you by making other parts feel good, that is."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"But it does answer some questions. Like they ain't all pissed off the Chosen Governor in unison. It's just the one house that's got her angry. And that's easier to fathom."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Or maybe not her. Maybe House Uaptal."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of a nod:
"It does answer some questions. She also said that nothing had been finalized."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"But one house makes more sense than all of them."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight lift of one hand:
"To return to one of your other earlier questions, the Chosen Governors are selected from their House to oversee parts of the Ivory and the surrounding lands."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a tilt of her head:
"Such as House Uaptal with the grasslands, or House Lyksae with the Red Sun Commons."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"The Faithful have no hand in the selection?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, pale eyes narrowed with thought:
"The first were chosen by His Faithful, and I've assumed that it has continued to be done in that fashion - but I can look more into that for you."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, it ain't worth upsetting anyone over. Just interesting. "
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a second, slight nod:
"It is, and I should be more... current in such affairs, as you aren't the only one who asks me of it. Foreigners, in particular, are always interest in learning the intricacies of Tuluki politics."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I hope I ain't asked or said nothing I shouldn't have. Nothing that'd upset none of the Faithful or Chosen."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight shrug of her slender shoulders:
"You haven't, and I'd likely inform you - again, as your instructor - if I saw anything remiss in your behavior."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"That's appreciated."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, smile lingering as she glances to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"It is a... benefit to being a teacher, being able to be so frank with those you are close to."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, tone thoughtful:
"Are we?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, with a shrug:
"I ain't close to many people, so... I ain't always sure how close works."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, taking in a slight breath, tone thoughtful:
"It is not a truth universally held, but in my family, in my Circle, such honesty is crucial to being able to help another learn and improve."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, after pausing, her murmur non-committal:
"Hm. Let's see... I still don't think of myself as knowing you well, Sid, although I surely would enjoy doing so. Regardless, however, because I am hired on as your teacher, you must be close to me."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, in a softer voice:
"Honesty is a... deep sign of trust, both in your ability to hear it and in mine to... lower some guards that might otherwise exist."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, alright. I guess yeh, I'm putting down some guards. And hoping I don't end up hurt for having done it."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, suddenly grinning:
"Curiosity is a dangerous vice."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Both cheaper and dearer than spice."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, exhaling softly, a few strands of hair flying up from her face as she does so:
"Yes, I... feel the same, be assured in that. And yes, curiosity is a delightful vice - although apathy is a vice, as well, and less delightful, hm?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Do you suffer from apathy?"
You feel as though you hate her for asking that question.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft breath of laughter:
"Me? No, I enjoy puzzles too much, as I said. Although my... curiosity is not evenly distributed. I have some interests greater than others."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"So..."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"We close enough I can be rude and ask something with no thought of tact?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, trailing off before she offers the spangled-blond, muscular woman a serene smile:
"Of course, Sid. Feel free."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"How come you're more talented than lots of them seekers and you ain't one?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman looks across to the spangled-blond, muscular woman and then laughs, soft and serene, the bells at her neck chiming.
You feel as though you didn't need to be asked that today.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman watches you, gaze level, until finally she shrugs sheepishly.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a wry shake of her head:
"Thank you for prefacing that with a question. Most do not. First, I must also thank you for the compliment for it is deeply appreciated."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, cause I wonder."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of nod:
"The reasons are... two-fold, I think. The first is that I was gone for several years, Sid. Even I cannot deny that I did not... improve in many areas during that time."
You think:
"Eight year anniversary."
As she listens, the spangled-blond, muscular woman looks at you.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, smile quirking, a hint of ironic amusement flashing across it:
"The other is that not all... Circles advance at the same rate. The Driamusek Circle has very high standards. As such, it is the greater honor to be a Seeker for us."
(hemote) Two of the ethereal, fair-haired woman's fingers - one on each hand - are missing; the fabric of her gloves hangs empty where they should be.
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Does it bother you? If not you're a finer person than me. It'd bother me, I think."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, taking in a soft breath, jaw working to one side:
"It does in some senses. Not... everyone understands our ways, and so it seems odd to them, a partisan to a High Templar being but a poor, troubled Apprentice."
You feel as though it seems odd to you at times, too.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a hint of a smile to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"It helps when they ask, as you have, to allow me opportunity to explain."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Who you're partisan to, aside, you give a performance audience feels like they seen a performance."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Ain't that the whole point of being a bard?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, pale eyes narrowed with amusement:
"One of the greatest points, without doubt. I enjoy the performances that no one notices, but that is an entirely different topic of conversation."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with practiced patience:
"However, we are all... skilled differently. A performance from a Master is unlike anything a novice could create. It is part of our... auditions, our advancement, just as you must learn a better dance with swords."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"No, I don't."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, shaking her head:
"If a criminal is running away, I got to stop them."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I don't got to impress them with how I stop them."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a curious smile as she pulls tangled hair back from her face:
"True. My pardon."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I just got to get them into a cell."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"If I go into battle, I got to kill more enemy than kills me."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I ain't got to impress them either."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a quiet nod:
"And your ability to... continue killing enemies, to capture thieves is dependent on... what, experience, I'd say?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, if I was talented with a blade it would depend on outfighting em."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"If I was smart, it'd depend on outsmarting them."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a slight nod, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth:
"... And...?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"And some days it just comes down to throwing a rock at them, before they run too fast and get away."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"End of the day, I don't have to be good. I just have to get the job done."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"If I can make it pretty, that's nice."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"If I can't..."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman shrugs.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a touch of incredulity to her tone:
"But isn't getting the job done -being- good?"
At your seat, you say in sirihish, fond levity in her tone:
"My dear friend, there are many sorts of... proficiency. Beauty is only one of them."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, shaking her head:
"I don't know. I don't know the answers."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, tone softening as well as her smile:
"Then I believe it is. Being able to survive and succeed - those are marks of His Legions. It is the same with us. Time and experience teaches us how to survive and succeed."
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"But my criminals are instead sharing drinks with His Chosen. My wars are dances on a stage."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a thoughtful frown:
"And I don't suppose you have any rations on you that you might be willing to spare? I left home without food as well as 'sid."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, digging through the bag:
"I do, but I doubt you'll thank me. They're..."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman gets her bundle of leaf-wrapped rations from her leather tool bag.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, interjecting smoothly:
"... better than roasted scrab head and crusty cheese. My thanks to House Tor of Allanak for those experiences."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish, producing a bundle:
"Well, they're filling at least"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I'd trade the rations for crusty cheese and heads. I hate rations."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman gives you her bundle of leaf-wrapped rations.
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a soft breath of laughter:
"I'm spoiled to a core, then. A few weeks of... stew, I think they called it, although I'd hardly be so generous with the name, and I was missing dry bread."
After lifting it to the spangled-blond, muscular woman in thanks, you eat part of your bundle of leaf-wrapped rations.
You think:
"... Admittedly, these -are- quite foul."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I'd kiss the cook if he made stew. I explained stew to him...nothing."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I think it's an insult to all cooks to call him one. I never actually seen him -cook- anything."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a dry glance to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"I wish I'd've known your recipe for it. I've assisted cooks, but my own... talent for it is less than satisfactory, and there are few tyrants in this world like a cook in a kitchen."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Take the meat he's throwing in the rations and put it in a pot with some water and some ocotillo, the fruit from the rations some water from the barrel and put the pot on the hearth."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"It doesn't have to be good. It just has to be ... something but this."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs, lifting both gloved hands up in a helpless gesture.
At your seat, you say in sirihish:
"I submit, my friend. I submit. If I were your cook, I would do as you commanded in all things."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Have a talk with him, Aja. Have a talk with the man."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a wry tone:
"I couldn't seduce two tankards of ale from a friendly bartender. I doubt a hardened cook to His Legions will be any softer swayed."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Well, threats and taunts ain't moved him, maybe a bit of sweet would do it."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a dip of her head in thanks:
"I will do what I can, but I'll not make promises, sadly. Perhaps I could at least get him to use spices on the rations?"
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"He could piss on them, and they could only be improved."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, touching a hand to her mouth, her smile amused:
"Where I used to live, every Detal we would receive a fresh shipment of kalan fruit. There were few pleasures in this world such as a week of... mush followed by a few hours of fresh kalan."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, inclining her head to the spangled-blond, muscular woman:
"If nothing else, perhaps... perhaps... we could get something special to liven your days."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"That'd be a fine addition."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, cracking a smile:
"... And then I shall see to it, if you would be so kind as to permit me to take my leave. I fear I have other duties less pleasant to see to than this."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"Your time is appreciated."
At your seat, the spangled-blond, muscular woman says in sirihish:
"I hope I wasn't too much of a trial to you."
At your seat, you say in sirihish, smile lingering:
"Your questions are always appreciated and... please. Please. Believe me when I say that my time with you is no trial. If nothing else, believe that I've taught too many southerners through their ignorance."
Sliding free of the booth, you stand up from a baobab booth.
The spangled-blond, muscular woman says to you, in sirihish:
"His Radiance upon you, Aja."
The spangled-blond, muscular woman stands up from a baobab booth.
With a respectful nod, you say to the spangled-blond, muscular woman, in sirihish:
"And His Light grace you, as ever, Sid. I'll look forward to hearing from you, and will check in after a month or so, if no new questions arise on your end."
(hemote) Mirth flashes across the ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes.
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this
cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles. Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the otherwise...
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