Trapping Schwein(Rakvald)

[Silaqui Falone]

It was colder than she liked to sit outside. Carefully she'd slipped inside an Inn known as the Karshe and situated herself in a darkened corner hoping to not be discovered and shoo'd out into the cold before the heat had made its way into the blackened bones beneath her false skin. As per the usual since she'd stepped off the boat and walked up the gangway onto the docks of this city she kept her oil clothe cloak wrapped about her and the hood up to hide her face. It wasn't that she feared being discovered. She looked as normal as any other human looking being, after all her tattoos were hidden well on her back so unless she was stripped of her clothing no one would be any wiser. Probably.

A shiver ran up her spine as she settled against the wall. Her right hand gripped the left side of her cloak keeping it held over her left side to hide and mangled stump of her arm. She'd not had any motivation since she'd stepped off the boat. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd even come to this place. She'd merely uttered the name of a city she knew of when asked where she wanted to go after she'd recovered her things. She knew nothing of this place. Nothing of its people. Of its traditions or customs. All she knew was that she was on the same patch of dirt that was shared by Augiery. A place she would not return to till she was good an ready to. What would her birth mother say if she saw her daughter ruined as she was? 'We told you. You never listen. We told you something like this would happen!' Despite the perceived care in the statement and the doting that often came with such words Silaqui's mother was far from that. She was a Naer like Silaqui was. There was no love between the two women. Silaqui felt nothing for her and she presumed her mother felt nothing for her. Maybe there was some attachment there deep in that womans mind for her. Silaqui had stopped caring what her mother thought or wanted for her sometime in her early teens. Waiting as long as she had to leave as she did had been a miracle in itself.

What Silaqui was most worried about was the shadow-mother. Audrae. The progenitor of her kind. Revered though she was by Silaqui and her kind there was a healthy amount of fear and respect. She was unsure what her species mother would do or say to her for returning so mangled. True, the eye she hid still worked. The hand could be replaced by a suitable technician or regrown maybe with the arts of magic and whatever else outsiders did. But to return as she was now would she assumed be an affront to the being who'd given her people life in the first place. It was a very worrisome spot to be in. So close to the only real place she'd ever known but unable to return. Not that she was banished, she wasn't, but she was unsure how the shadow-mother would react to seeing one of her children in such a state. Silaqui could imagine several scenarios. The first and probably the best outcome was she cared not at all. The second best was that she cared in some way and did something that put Silaqui in her debt in some way. Which depending on what it was could be both bad and good. And finally, the worst of the scenarios, was that she flew into a rage and either banished Silaqui from the only home she'd ever known or struck her down.

This left avoiding Augiery till she was one piece again the only option. An option she hoped she could continue until the day she turned to blackened bone and ceased to be. If for no other reason than to never have to see her birth mother again. She winced slightly as her pulse quickened just enough to increase pressure in the stump of her arm which aggravated the damaged nerves. She kept her movements small. Slow. Deliberate. Even if she couldn't hunt beasts of the wood and field she could still practice the careful stealth required to get one into range. Such skills had their places in inhabited areas.

[Rakvald]

5th of Ashan, 719

ooc

I took the liberty of dating the thread, if you don't mind.

The sounds and smells of the Karshe were a welcome reprieve from Rakvald's life in Quacia. It'd taken a few days, but eventually he adjusted to the cloying woodland smells and ambience. Every house it seemed was lit by bugs, without much in the way of cookfires or other signs of camping. It seemed the people of Desnind had their way of not leaving tracks. Not that Rakvald was much of one for spotting them in the first place. He was a simple pig farmer. Perhaps in a different life he may have filled the role of hunter or protector. But for many generations since his leaving the fields of Western Idalos, he was a herdsman.

But for now, he was enjoying the Karshe, sitting at the bar and downing some drink mixed with fermented sap. It was very good. Good enough to order another. His time in Desnind might well add a few belt sizes to his waist, for all the good food they had on offer. Far better than the ashen swill and putrid fodder that served as edible in that dungheap of a city.

Even so, he begrudged his exodus from that place. He'd left his seed in the belly of that treacherous wench, and Immortals only knew what she planned for his child. Likely to be used against him before all was said and done. He had a plan formulating in his mind, and he needed friends and allies to enact them.

It was this purpose, however far in the future it lay, that moved Rakvald to reach beyond the embrace of his new wonderful home in Desnind. More important than rebuilding the wealth he needed in order to live comfortably again, he needed to ensure that he could retrieve his child from the vile Ildred.

He cast his eyes around the room, looking for anyone who might fit the bill. All the Sev'ryn chatting among themselves, filling the empty din with their voices and signs of mirth, they all seemed occupied. He didn't feel well sharing his problems with those folk.

He was about to resign himself to another drink, when his glance shifted over a woman in the corner. She wore a heavy cloak, and appeared preoccupied with her own troubles.

He sipped the last of his drink, and then pushed off from the bar. Time to test if misery does indeed like company. He approached her table slowly, so as not to startle. "Greeting. I Rakvald. Pig Ranch man. Do you trap thing?"

[Silaqui Falone]

Sila jumped slightly, startled by the sudden appearance of a man who's common was rough. Normally, and this meant before she'd lost it, she'd have put her left hand across her chest as she composed herself. Catching herself before she ever moved that limb she winced slightly from tensing up the corresponding shoulder to cease the movement of what remained. He'd said something. What had he said? For a moment she stared at him blankly hoping she could recall the words. Something about something?

She continued to look at him for a moment pleading within herself for some sort of hint. Trap. That was the only word that floated to mind. Maybe he'd asked about that. "I..." she started not really sure what to say, "I... Uh..." This wasn't a situation she'd mentally prepared for. Rarely if ever had she been approached by someone else since she'd left Augiery. Now she had to in the moment remember the courtesies of the outside world. She must have looked like such an imbecile. Perhaps it would be best to to just get up and leave? Yes, that was the ticket. Get up, say nothing further, walk to the door, open it, step outside, close the door and the return to her cart passing solely through the back streets and avoiding as much contact with the people of this settlement as possible. No to just do it.

"I am Silaqui," she heard herself saying and immediately she was in internal turmoil as she tried to figure out why she was talking to this man and not getting up. Did her legs not work anymore? What was going on! "A pleasure to meet you. I used to hunt and trap, yes. I wasn't very good at it." She'd answered him. Silaqui wasn't entirely sure why she had. Had she sustained an injury she was unaware of and was now manifesting itself in uncontrolled speech to strangers? If that was the case, lovely.

"Why do you ask?" she inquired while she tried to figure out what had compelled her to speak to this man instead of either ignoring him or leaving the bar.

[Rakvald]

”Ah!” He said, when she admitted to some skill or knowledge of trapping and hunting. ”Good good!”

He scratched his chin when he considered the content of her pronouncement. Paying specific attention to the phrase ‘used to’. ”You ‘used to’? No more? I ask why… I want learn the skill.”

Since she didn’t tell him to buzz off or leave her alone, as he feared she might, he smiled gently and took a seat at the table. ”So, I need trap to catch wild swine, for make tame. I tame animal.”

He considered her carefully, trying to get a good look at her, though it was difficult behind the shroud of her cloak and hood. ”Why wear hood indoor?” He asked, pointing at her cloak. ”Very cold?”

Rakvald had to admit to becoming uncomfortably familiar with the cold of late. He gathered his fur mantle around his shoulders as he considered the bad weather of Cylus that had just only lifted. It was still quite cold even in early Ashan. The heat would not come until much later in the season, if not next cycle.

”Are you native Desnind? From here, or elsewhere?” He asked absently. ”I come from Qua… other city, to west. Not speak such good common. Not stupid though.”

Rakvald knew well enough that some common speakers thought those who weren’t fluent in its use had a slight prejudice toward those who weren’t. They tended to think those people were either simpletons or ignoramuses. Rakvald wondered if this Silaqui was one of those types.

He slapped the table, calling for a server to bring another drink. Once they arrived, he said to them, ”Couple of those fermented sap drinks? Or whatever lady Silaqui want.”

[Silaqui Falone]

"I.. uh..." she began wincing from the word and her arm as she laid her right hand on the stump rubbing it an a consoling way, 'had an accident recently that will make hunting and trapping near impossible." This was true. Without her left hand she couldn't use a bow and any crossbow with the weight needed to propel a bolt with enough weight with enough speed to be effective at killing her quarry would be too cumbersome to handle with one hand much less draw back to its firing position. True there were loading aids but the weight of the weapon alone would make using it difficult.

Rakvald, as he was called, wanted to learn how to trap wild pigs so he could tame it and breed it with a pig he had. An interesting reason to wish to learn trapping but most of what she knew was for killing animals or incapacitating them so they could be easily dispatched with a well placed thrust of a knife, a shot from a projectile of some sort, or a stab from a spear. She'd not put too much thought into ever needing to take something alive. It was possible. She was aware of that much but she was unsure how she or anyone went about doing so.

He was asking a lot of questions. Some she didn't know how to answer and others she simply couldn't. "Yes, I am," she said once more wincing at the personal pronoun as she responded to his inquiry about her being cold. "No. I'm just visiting. I don't think I'll be here long." She deflected an answer to that next question. She wasn't sure what his feelings on her kind were and without knowing what they were she wouldn't risk exposing herself as a child of night in such a public place. Not with a hand missing and an eye ruined as it was. Maybe she could take down a couple. Maybe make a fighting retreat to the door but she doubted she'd make it far enough to get to her horse and wagon.

He ordered some fermented sap drinks for them and she politely waved hers away. She didn't drink. It had never suited her even when she had lived in Augiery. Instead she requested water. This was a strange situation. She was unsure how she was going to get out of this.

[Rakvald]

Rakvald drained his horn of fermented sap, then slammed it down on the table. ”Shall go den? Find beast and trap, and bring back to fuck with Flappy the pig boy! Har har!”

He got up from his chair, and slapped her roughly on the back. ”Let’s go then. You know where look for wild hog?” Rakvald scratched his beard pensively as he looked to the door, trying to remember how he found his first pig. ”Ah! They like to forage. Berries, slime, pigs not picky eaters. We get some food, leave bait for pig.”

He smiled at his cleverness. ”You know how trap, yes? You teach me. Show me how to put together and I help.”

The Lothar gave her a paternalistic look, as she still sat in her chair. ”Well? We going?”

Whether she followed or not, he headed toward the door. Rakvald was fairly confident she’d follow, given her expressed interest in working for him. He had some nel waiting in his pouch for her if she wished for regular employment, however long she was staying in Desnind.

His Spark ebbed and ached at her proximity, however. There was something quite different about her, though he couldn’t place it. The women of Desnind were turning out to be very strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, either!

But he got the feeling that the two he’d already met were not exactly fertile ground for a future relationship.

[Silaqui Falone]

For whatever reason. She got to her feat and followed him. It wasn't the need of money. She didn't need much. She had been getting most of her meals at night by rooting through the waste for food that wasn't quite spoiled yet. It was a rough existence but it was what she had to do. Prior to this she'd simply hunted for what she needed food wise. Now, she could no longer do that. So she resorted to being much like an animal and scrounged through the trash of others. Some nights were better than others. And it wouldn't be long she wagered till someone caught her. She was unsure of this cities laws regarding such things but she wagered it wouldn't be pretty, probably some time in jail, maybe the pillory. It didn't matter. It wouldn't go well she wagered.

Yet she was on her feet and following him. She didn't know how to trap for live animals. Only to snare or kill them. He'd said something about wanting to find a mate for a pig he already had. She knew almost nothing about pigs. She knew that they tasted good cooked. Then again, most things did and that still brought her back to the problem that she hadn't a clue how to trap animals alive. She supposed a cage would suffice. Or a net or snare if you could keep the snare from strangling the pig.

He'd said something about what the pigs could and would eat. Which she supposed would be easy enough to find something along those lines to use as bait in the forest. Though she hadn't a clue where to look as she'd not left the confines of the city since she'd stepped off the boat. Why would she? she had no means of defending herself. This all felt like too much. She just needed to put her foot down and tell him she wasn't doing this. That she wasn't interested and that she was going to go home. But the money would be nice. But she wanted to go home. But the money. Everything was so conflicting.

[Rakvald]

She didn’t say much, and Rakvald wasn’t one to push another person into an uncomfortable discussion. Even so, he couldn’t deny his own curiosity. He’d pry more information about her before they parted ways, willingly of course. Perhaps she’d feel comfortable enough once they’d had some success and he paid her for the first trap?

Either way, Rakvald wasn’t too bothered about it. Desnind was a tight-knit community by all appearances. He was sure they’d be running into each other sooner or later after the fact.

Their walk took them down the spiraling ramps that led up and down the length of the trees. The Karshe Inn was well above the ground-level. As such, it took about a half a break before they even got to the ground.

Rakvald turned to her, and then jutted his thumb off behind him. ”We go dis way. If you see anyting useful or we need, pick up from ground!” That said, he unsheathed his small kukri, an embersteel knife, and flipped it in his hand. He extended it out to her, handle-first.

The knife was masterfully made, even a slight ability at appraisal could confirm that. Ham-bone hilt, taken from one of Rakvald’s prized hogs, and then worked into the knife by one of the greater smiths of Quacia. ”You keep for now, alright? Security against payment, and you might need.” He handed her the sheath to go with it, which was just as well made as the knife itself, albeit less ornamental.

So after a break or so, they found themselves well outside the city limits. He turned around, and put his hands on his hips and shrugged. ”Well, what we do now? I not know how trap thing. Teach?”

[Silaqui Falone]

She took the knife and held it deftly in her hand. She knew almost nothing about knives but from the way he had handed it to her she could assume it meant something to him deeply. She would treat this piece of metal and what looked like bone with the utmost care. Sliding it and its sheath into one of the many lashing points on her body glove she followed behind him for a break. Saying nothing as they walked simply taking in their surroundings and enjoying the quieter nature of the wilderness.

After sometime he stopped and turned to her. In his broken common he asked her to teach him how to trap. In truth she only knew the most basic of things and those things were meant for killing things. But she supposed they could just try things. Worst case scenario was they didn't catch anything. Best case was they did but then they'd have to figure out how to get whatever they caught out of the trap. Which was an entirely different matter and one they'd deal with if they caught something.

"I suppose the easiest thing we could do is dig a hole a little bigger than what we're trapping and deep enough that it cant climb out or jump out. I'm not sure how deep or how big you'll want it to be so this might take a few tries to get right," she said trying to find a way to make it seem like she'd done it before. She hadn't that wasn't the point but she'd heard about this sort of thing before. Dig a hole, hide the hole and wait for something to fall in the hole. It would be a learning experience for both of them. Him because this was a thing he wanted to do and once he knew how he'd not need her anymore and her because eventually this could be useful for her at some point for catching her own food again.

[Rakvald]

Thus, the two would-be trappers began diggin a hole. They made it around three feet deep, with Rakvald presuming that whatever he caught would be around the height of Flappy, for the pig boy to be able to fuck with it. Anything bigger would have to just leave well enough alone.

Rakvald knew Flappy’s dimensions pretty well, and so was able to make a Flappy-sized hole in the ground. He dug a foot or so more just to be on the safe side. This done, he placed food and jelly all around the hole, the sort of stuff hogs liked. The scent would probably attract attention within a few breaks.

”C’mon lady, we diggy other holes now. We come back later to check when we done.”

So the pair went about covering the holes, Sila working on the leave lattice with Rakvald’s help, and also making the holes nice and symmetrical with her borrowed kukri. Rakvald grunted a few times as they used the knives to dig holes, having forgotten to pick up a pair of spades. Nonetheless, the work they did was good in his immediate estimation.

They went to wait some distance away, waiting for the sound of a hog squealing. Rakvald had an excited look on his face, just day-dreaming about the fun Flappy would have with his new friend.

Then, at least two breaks into their wait, they heard the telltale breaking of branches and leaves, and a loud screeching squeal.

Before Rakvald could even think, he jumped to his feet, ”We gots one! Come, we catch her before she jump out!”

The Pig Rancher ran into the forest, following the sounds of the sow’s squealing and screeching. When at last he arrived at where she was, his eyes went wide. She was a hairy thing, brown in coat and red in the eyes, with two small tusks protruding from the bottom of its mouth like ivory knives.

”Ooo…” He said, entranced by her. It wasn’t until she began charging, that he noticed she’d only been halfway-buried by the hole. She escaped easily, and rushed in Rakvald’s direction!

”OOOOH!” Rakvald shouted, blocking the way with his left forearm, intending to take the blow in his arm before snatching and grappling with the hog.

The sow stuck his forearm with two knife-like tusks, and instinctively lifted its head, tearing and ripping the flesh open. ”AAARRGH!” He howled, yet was able to wrap an arm around her head, and began to move the rest of his body over her, keeping his forearm now out of the way.

He used his weight to keep her down, and once subdued, began headbutting the beast, pounding it in the head with his fist, doing anything he could to calm it. He had to show it who was boss.

His skin began crawling with a strange feeling, born from his spark. Something was beginning to slow the pig’s struggles, and he became aware that it wasn’t entirely his beating he was delivering to it. The beast began calming more as his skin rubbed against its hide, until he found it entirely docile and calm. ”Uhhh…?!”

He marveled at the change in his skin, as the peachfuzz and hair stood up on his skin, began to caress the pig’s furs. Soon enough, he found it completely docile.

Yet, taking no chances, Rakvald picked it up and threw it over his shoulder, deciding to carry it back to his Ranch. As he did so, the large wound on his forearm began healing. Slowly so as to stop the bleeding, and then even more slow as the flesh knit itself together. By the time it would be done, he’d have a terrible scar on his forearm, with ulcers bleeding that would need treating. But at least the bulk of the bleeding had subsided.

”Oy, Sila, we pay you back home, okey? Come on, let’s go.”