• Solo • A Curious Meeting

For Qit'ria! <3

Once an isolated and dying township, an influx of academics, adventurers and thrill seekers have made Scalvoris Town their home. From scholars' tea shops to a new satellite campus for Viden Academy, this is an exciting place to visit or make your home!

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• Solo • A Curious Meeting

Postby Miyar » Sat Nov 18, 2017 1:34 am

Vhalar, 14th, late evening/night

Warm light streamed through the solar.

It cut golden squares across the floor and table, creeping up to his fingers and quill, which tapped now in a frenetic click-click, click-click. Blots of ink clung to the parchment, trembling.

Tutor Maewin heaved another sigh, leaning closer to examine his sums.

No, Miyar, you carry the numeral, the old man clucked, pointing to the numbers with a gnarled hand. You’ve multiplied wrong, see—

He did not see. His eyes roamed somewhere beyond his tutor’s wrinkled face and to the window where the birds chirruped and a wind ruffled the trees, sending them nodding at each other as though in agreement.

I don’t want to learn sums, he snapped with all the petulance of a boy of eight. I want to go outside.

If you want to leave, you must finish your les—

His hand struck out in a pale blur. The ink toppled, bleeding over the table and through the parchment.

No, he screamed, kicking his legs.

No, no, no, the solar echoed.

Tutor Maewin’s face grew very still. He had the skin of a withered peach, inset with sharp black eyes; and as he dared to look up, they seemed to widen with suppressed anger. And then his pupils dilated — kept on till it ate the whites of his eyes, rendering them the darkness of a skull’s — with a screech of a chair Miyar wobbled back, clutching the table. But it was slippery with ink — bleeding ink! — a void that covered the wood and slicked his hands, running down to the fine marble floor and threading like black veins, and when he looked up his tutor’s mouth opened, deep and dark, howling in a scream.

And he fell, then — his stomach flipped as he sailed through empty air, Maewin’s face looming above like a rotting moon. The scream filled him, rang in his bones and soul and sang in his body till he realized it was coming from him. The flesh of the man above him rippled like a sail, torn apart by an unseen wind. And he fell, and fell, and fell — till the ground hit his back and came springing around him.

No, the walls screamed. No, no, no.

The darkness seemed to take form, a buzzing matter he could not see but he could feel, sending his heart to galloping. The presence descended on him, seizing his wrists, and of a sudden he could not move, the breath dying in his throat; he felt a wetness in his mouth, a pushing tongue like a snake, and gagged, but it only pressed him ever further. He could smell the sour tang of flesh and wine, a feverish sweat rubbing against his body.

No! that scream rang again, high and distorted, a voice keening from a tunnel. The darkness grinned above.

Have mercy, he sobbed, but none came; his lips could not form the words, his tongue leaden, the voice stolen from him. Chains clinked in the gloom — far, far, then closer, till he heard its s-ss-scrape against the floor, a metallic serpent making its advance. Clinking, screaming, the vile scent of blood.

And he woke.

***


Miyar launched into consciousness with a muffled yelp, launching up in the darkness.

The fire pulsed low, half-smoldered to charcoal; only the moonlight struggled thinly through the slats of his blinds. For a moment he thought he saw the massive silhouette of a man looming across the room, and his heart skipped. After a few seconds it resolved itself into his fireplace once again, transformed into cobbled stone and a stone shelf.

A cold sweat covered his body. The sheets had been kicked into a ball by his feet, nearly hanging off his bed.

The sorcerer trembled, blinking overmuch. After a few moments his breathing slowed, but his heart still pounded, skittering like a rat against his ribs. Miyar wiped his hands over his face, drawing in a deep breath. Nothing. There is nothing there. He is gone, he reminded himself, but it was feeble comfort. Rising on trembling legs, the man crept to his fireplace, struggling with the poker. The dim flames clung to life, begging to be helped up like a weary friend; he scrounged some tinder, and the fire leapt off the crumbling wood and onto the sticks, crackling gratefully. He watched it a while, clutching his elbows, his eyes glassy with flame. After a time his nerves calmed enough for him to rise and dress, fastening a cloak with fumbling hands.

There would be no sleep tonight.

***


Even in the godsforsaken hours of the night, Scavoris offered something to do.

Raucous laughter came from the taverns, islands of light and heat in the rambling cobbles and crooked buildings. He walked without paying much attention to where he was going — here, a brothel strung with red lights and smiling, toothless whores — there, the abandoned, reeking clusters of fish stalls — shops closed and shuttered for the night — students stumbling home, blind with drink and slurring at him for directions — he weaved around them all, circling aimlessly like a lost gull, till at last he came upon a shallow rise of steps that wrapped around a hill. The stones were large and uneven, hewn from the cliffs, though some attempt had been made to bolster them with wood. Strings of lanterns escorted the path, though in truth they did not need it; the moonlight shone bright enough, illuminating the path.

By the time he reached the top he was somewhat out of breath, legs burning in protest, but the view was worth it. A cursory scan told him no one else was here. Good. I can mope uninterrupted, it seems.

Perhaps once it had been a watch tower or some such; but the building had long been torn down, its only evidence a few foundation stones and the carcass of walls. Elsewise it had been converted into a small park with a view of the sea; the grass was soft underfoot, the breeze fresh and balmy. In the daytime it was a fine place to read a book or get away from the tangled streets and noise; at sunset it was a place for lovers to steal kisses and share a view, but it was long past the hour for that. No — it was perfectly calm now, a tad chilly without the leaning buildings to trap the heat. Miyar tightened the cloak about him, fighting off a chill.

To keep his heat, he stepped slowly towards the outlook; the moonlight struck diamonds off the black sea, and above the sky was peppered with winking stars. He watched them awhile, trying to hunt for some knowledge of constellations. Surely he had known them once, but the memory was faded now, locked away in some other time. At length he decided to make his own.

That one looks like a horse’s arse, he thought, amber eyes half-lidding. And that one… a pot — no, that’s dreadfully boring — perhaps a pissing man—

A noise broke him out of his amateur astrology. There were heavy footsteps — a presence — and in a whirl of a cloak he spun around, fingers clutching instinctively for the dagger beneath his sleeve. Who the bloody stars is out here?

He forced a startled laugh, one hand fanning across his chest while the other remained hidden in his cloak.

“Gods, you nearly scared the piss out of m—” he cut off, his grin shattering; his amber eyes widened instead. He’d expected a drunk or, gods forbid, a thief, but instead the sorriest creature he’d ever seen hunched before him, clearly in pain. His mouth popped open in surprise, momentarily empty of words. Fates be damned.
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A Curious Meeting

Postby Qit'ria » Sat Nov 18, 2017 2:36 am

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Image
"Common Speech"
"Xanthean Speech"


Qit'ria sat outside the city for several breaks, watching, waiting for an opportunity, her thigh and shoulder burning from the infection that was likely setting in. She was on her stomach in the tall grass on a small rise, with a view of the only gate in and out of Scalvoris Town. Faith the healer was in there. She needed to get in there. But she didn't know who the man that hunted her was, she didn't know if he had allies. And guards would always question an injured woman, particularly a foreigner.

The sun was beginning to set, and Qit knew the gates would be sealed at sunset and locked until sunrise. Thankfully she wasn't the only one a rush. There were several wagons, horses, and the like making their way into the city, all hustling to make it in by sunset. Qit could see that the guards were just waving people through for the most part, aside from merchants who would need to pay their taxes. The huntress crawled from her hiding spot and made her way to the road, walking slowly, her cloak wrapped tight around her form. She forced herself to walk normally despite the shooting pains in her thigh.

A wagon pulled by a pair of noisy donkeys, braying and heehawing loudly, passed by her. She looked up at the single driver, an old man that was hollering at the pair of pack animals. As the wagon passed her fully, she slipped in behind it. Grimacing in pain to maintain the pace as the cart, she braced herself. Then she leapt up off her good leg, and got her bad leg on a board, and a hand over the side. The pulled herself up, hanging off the back for several moments, waiting to see if the driver noticed the change in weight. Giving it a bit longer, she peered up over the back, saw him still yelling at the donkeys, and she crept into the bag among his cargo.

It seemed he was a rug merchant, and the entire wagon was nothing but bundles and bundles of rugs. Qit found a seam in the piles, crawled down deep into it until she reached the wooden bed. She continued to burrow and pulled some rugs over top of her. And there she waited. From her hiding spot, it was nearly impossible to make out any sounds, and she couldn't see anything. But each bump sent a spike of pain through her. Each one was worse than the last. It got so bad, particularly once they started over what felt like cobblestones. Qit bit down on a rug, fighting the pain from the rattling cart.

She thought she was going to pass out when she couldn't take it any longer. Wriggling upward, she could see they were up on some high rise, and that night had truly fallen. She didn't know where the man was heading to, but they were in a fairly isolated area. She pulled herself up and over the back of the cart, and fell in a heap on the grass, moaning. Her head was doused in sweat, her body hot and cold at the same time. She tried to pull herself upright, but fell back down once more.

So she crawled, and crawled, not even sure where she was going in this state. She crawled out around a bush, and she could make out the form of a man looking to the stars through her sweat stung eyes. Shuffling toward him, she knew she needed help. Her world was spinning, but she let out a single groan as the man turned to her, a glint of metal in his hands.

A few words escaped her lips in her delirium, "Water... water.. please.."



Created by Yolande
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A Curious Meeting

Postby Miyar » Sat Nov 18, 2017 4:37 am

For a moment he simply did not know what to do. His palms splayed uselessly, dagger forgotten, his nerves singing again. What in seven hells happened? She was—

Water, the woman croaked, looking up at him from a mat of dark hair. She reeked, clothes rising with the heady scent of blood and sweat. She looked half a corpse already, eyes glazed with fever, lips parched and cracked.

Miyar knelt to be by her, hands fumbling at his belt for a waterskin. “Here— here.” Gods, don’t die on me, he thought, heart racing. The man uncapped it, raising it to her lips, for she seemed incapable of it herself. As she drank his eyes darted around, ears peeled for any sounds or shivers in the bushes.

Who did this? Was someone pursuing her? Was there a knife not far behind? The water was soon gone; it had only been half-filled to begin with. When it emptied he looked back to her, eyes flicking down to the extent of her injuries. It was hard to tell in the cold light, but he could see patches of darkness upon her shoulder and leg. How did she get all the way up here in such a state?

“It’s going to be—okay.” A hollow platitude. With the Fate’s luck, she would not bleed to death on this hill. He sucked in his lips, gazing around once again. There was no one; not a soul to help or guide, take the situation off his hands. Her life, most unfortunately, was in his. “Gods, ah… can you walk?” Urgency touched his voice.
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A Curious Meeting

Postby Qit'ria » Sat Nov 25, 2017 9:22 pm

As the water poured over Qit's lips, she let it drain down into her throat, and swallowed as deeply as she could. She hadn't realized the extent of her dehydration, but her throat was swollen and she sputtered and choked a moment, coughing water all over the man helping her. An arm of hers weakly reached up and hung over his shoulder for support. Qit'ria didn't stop drinking, though she did slow a bit. As she worked to drink down the whole skin, she could feel a small bit of vigor returning to her, and the arm over the man's shoulder tensed as she tried to pick herself up a bit.

Qit was cold, wearing nothing more than her loin cloth, her cloak splayed open, exposing her to the night air. Such a strange night, hot then cold then both then cold again. She heard the man's words, barely, but did make out that he asked if she could walk. Using him as a crutch, she ground her teeth, and pulled up hard against him, pressing hard against his body as she climbed him. Groaning and grunting she pulled herself upright, panting as she finally reached her full height, nearly a head shorter than the man. She leaned into his chest, her head against his shoulder, her weight against him as she favored her good leg.

She pulled her cloak about her, to protect from the cold and cover herself, not wanting this man that was helping her to mistake her for a whore. Just because she was half naked in a town doesn't mean she's a whore. Though she would understand the sentiment. Whores could only be found in towns after all. Croaking out a light groan, "I walk. Slow..." Despite her mild delirium, she realized she didn't want guards involved still. She just needed to get to the Order of the Adunih.

She didn't want to lie, only scoundrels and vagabonds lied. So rather than lie, she just spoke the truth, with urgency to match the man's. "Need go to... to.. .Faith.. Order of Adunih... healer. Know where?" She stepped forward, and lurched a little as her legs were weak, and held tighter to the man. "Please..."
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A Curious Meeting

Postby Qit'ria » Fri Jan 12, 2018 2:40 pm

Common Text
Xanthean Text
Kashehino Text
But there was no response. None. Of course not. City people are not that kind of person, except for Faith. In a pained moan of disgust, she pushed herself away from him with a violent shove, falling down in the process. She hit grass hard, with an oomph. She slapped the ground, once, again, thrice. over and over she slapped it, she wasn't this weak. Grabbing a tuft of the grass, she flung it back at where the man had been, not bothering to look to see if it'd hit or if he was still there.

She pulled a javelin from its strap on her back, and shoved it, butt end down, into the dirt. Gripping it as high and as hard as she could, she began to slowly pull herself upright. She strained under her own weight, her arm straining, shaking. She was lifting herself up with pure stubbornness, and soon got a leg beneath her. Thigh flexing, she stood up, of her own accord. No help from anyone, as usual. There was just her. Grunting, straining, sweating, making noises much more fitting of an animal, she took a step.

And another, using her javelin as walking stick. She slowly made her way along the same road the rug merchant had taken her along, toward the town center. She shuffled along the dirt road, slowly. Her tired eyes, obscured by the occasionally bead of sweat rolling down her face. It was dark, but there were lamps, lanterns lit at various places in town. Looking out over the town, she knew the Order of Adunih was down there somewhere. And Faith would help her.

She shuffled down the hill, slowly, her breathing ragged and shallow. She was leaning on her javelin with both hands, and a shoulder. As she made her way to the bottom of the hill, she looked up the road between the buildings. There were a couple of armored men talking to one another, paying no attention to her direction. Qit'ria kept moving forward, favoring the right side of the road, sticking close to the buildings. She paused to take a breath, leaning against some building with a bunch of flowers out in front.

The men turned, still casually in their conversation as one pointed off in the distance. Qit'ria watched them, seemingly unnoticed by them. They began walking slowly, still talking, the one who pointed gesturing a bunch with his hands. Qit'ria didn't move, continued to watch. And then finally, the men turned down an alley on the opposite side of the street, and Qit seized the opportunity. She dipped down the alley to the right, unsure of where it led. She followed through the dark trail, taking turns at random.

Eventually she saw a building way out opposite the alley she was looking to exit, with its doors open and lights on. Fog was beginning to roll in, and Qit'ria's final reserves of strength were beginning to wane. She slowly made her way over, until she found herself once more falling over. She fell to the right, shoulder first, leaning into a wall. Then she slumped down it. She could see it. She was sure that was the Order. The one back in Desnind kept the same practice of open doors, at all times. But there was nothing left in the tank. Qit'ria sat there, sure she was going to die, in sight of salvation.

One word escaped her lips, "Faith..."
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A Curious Meeting

Postby Pegasus » Sat Jan 13, 2018 9:32 am

Qit'ria
Overview : Awww, poor Qit'ria! Shame the thread got abandoned, I like that you finished it up, though, and you did so well, I thought. Without a doubt, infection can kill in this sort of setting - Qit'ria needs to be careful! Lovely descriptions and clear inner dialogue which just makes me feel like I know the character better. Anything I've missed, drop me a pm!
Points :  XP: 15

Fame: None
Loot :  None. Infection needs to be treated, however.
Knowledge : Climbing: Pulling yourself up a moving cart
Endurance: Biting down on something to keep from screaming in pain
Resistance: Infection can cause the body to feel hot and cold
Resistance: Infection can cause undue sweats
Resistance: Infection can cause weakness and fatigue
Stealth: Act normally when possibly being watched
Stealth: Using merchant wagons as cover for entering a city undetected
Strength: Pulling yourself up by one arm


Miyar If you come to writing on the site, once your PC is approved, just pop up a review request for your part of this thread. Thanks!
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