Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 5, 2017 21:21:25 GMT -8
Zenna - Yesterday at 10:36 PM The east side of the capital was a place of contradictions. Rich merchants lived in ornate houses beside warehouses stuffed with treaures next door to shoddy pubs and brothels spilling laughter, music, and half-dressed folks into the surrounding shadowed streets. Narrow alleys ran behind and alongside these shady establishments and it was in one of these Zenna found herself.
Not that anyone would recognize her, hardly anyone in the capital knew who she was anyway plus she was wearing an elaborate ivory facemask to further hide her identity. Inside the Lifted Skirt a woman known as White Rose had just left the stage, leaving a very happy and riled up crowd behind. Outside, Zenna was stashing a white rose brocade corset into a bag.
Jack Mercer - Yesterday at 10:45 PM The Docks had given birth to his new life, and he could never quite wash the smell of rotten fish away from that day's clothes. He had discarded them, and dressed himself in the rough clothing of a rough man. In a city full of people it was easy to stand in a crowd and feel quite alone. He had been tempted to throw coin in one of the establishments of the east side, contradictions and all. He had however lost either nerve or interest, most likely both.
With quiet resignation he walked across the dirty streets that would be swept clean for the procession of riches that crossed back and forth from market to home and back again. Perhaps he could be forgiven for walking into someone however lightly, who was quite offended by the brushing of shoulders. The man also smelt of fish, something that agrieved Jack's senses as the burly man in defense of his invaded space shoved Jack hard enough that he stumbled over loose flagstone and into a decidedly dingy alley next to a raucous establishment shouting for more of something.
Wheeling round to follow Jack the burly man came a calling driving his boot into the chest of the out of towner. "Not watching where you're going! That's gonna cost you a drink!"
Zenna - Yesterday at 10:59 PM The sound of approaching foot steps had her instinctively stepping deeper into the shadows. The bag was closed, but the white mask forgotten and left covering the upper half of her face. She held her breath, watching the heated exchange between the two men. It was liable to get nasty... Where could she go? They were blocking the way to the street and she had no desire to travel further into the alley. There were probably rats tougher than her back there.
"Hey!" She stepped forward before the wiser half of her brain kicked in. What was she doing?! "You want to play together or would you rather play with me?"
Her voice was a sultry alto, naturally husky and blessed with perfect pitch. The white facial mask stood out in stark contrast against raven curls that tumbled in a wild freefall well below her waist. She wore a scoop necked poet's shirt and a slitted skirt that showed off her curves even in the poor light. Zenna put a hand on her hip and her weight to one side, expertly manipulating the skirt so the slit exposed a well shaped leg and a black garter around her high upper thigh. It would have taken good eyes to notice the faint tremble in her hands and that her stormy gray eyes were far too wide.
Jack Mercer - Yesterday at 11:08 PM Normally, Jack would of handled this in a way befitting mixed company. He would of difused the situation. Instead he pushed himself up from the ground to sit up, leaning back on the flat palms of his hands. Lips curled in a smirk that looked particularly impish as if he knew something the burly man didn't. The man was swarthy, his dark hair in greasy part spilling as far as his shoulders. The man's arms were marked with a few tattoos he probably didn't know the meaning of, and he seemed more interested in pursuing the afront to his space than the woman at the end of the alley. Still he had red blood- and only half of it had been replaced with cheap swill.
"Oh, he'll buy you a drink too- whore." He said with a gruff snort, his meaty first clenched before the other hand clutched the smaller man's collar. The man didn't look small- just smaller. Some horses would qualify considering the girth of the man.
Jack spoke with a clear voice, one that held a kind of diction that spoke of a moderate education but the casual edge you'd find in travelers who'd seen no small number of things. " No need to be insul-Hurrk!"
The man's meaty first slammed hard into Jack's stomach, so fast that Jack almost didn't prepare himself for the blow. Someone not inebriated would of noticed that Jack's left arm flexed backward to absorb some of the force as he instinctively shirked from the blow to protect himself. His right arm had nearly went for something at his side that wasn't there. Muscle memory no doubt.
"All your coin, and I'll keep it at one- then the Lady and I can have a drink.." He growled dragging Jack to his feet by the fabric clenched in his fist, the other cocked and ready to deliver another blow.
Zenna - Yesterday at 11:19 PM Ow. Was the guy's ribs broken? The punch looked like it hurt. A lot. She needed new clothes and a better exercise routine if a flash of her leg wasn't enough to distract the brute. She had a lot of coins in her bag, but as much as she didn't want to watch this guy get beat to a pulp in front of her, she didn't want to give up her night's earnings more.
Time to bring out the girls.
Quick as a flash Zenna yanked down the front of her shirt, ruffled her hand over her hair, slid down the brothel's brick wall and let out a blood curdling screech that could have summoned Mordred back from the dead. The side door flung open almost instantaneously and two large men came rushing out, both of them taking in the scene in a quick blink.
They saw the White Rose half dressed and screaming, one guy gasping for air on the ground, and a complete brute of a man standing over both. And she'd just made their boss a whole lot of money.
"Help!"(edited)
Jack Mercer - Yesterday at 11:31 PM "Huh?" he looked back at the woman, suddenly exposed, worried more along the lines of the two men who were already coming out. The burly man let out an inebriated roar. Unfortunately his reasoning was impaired and less his manueverability. With a quick jerk and push of his arm he slammed Jack against the alley before tossing him behind him. The man was too stupid to realize that was a rookie mistake- that he'd be closed in on by the two bruisers with someone behind him.
Or maybe that was okay, since Jack when sprawling into the street obscured by the behemoth's form. Maybe it was orc blood? Jack mused about it as he watched the man take up half a post to wield as a club and fell on the two large men with enough gusto that might inspire them to take the woman and lock the door. "Oh, cry wolf- no way I'm going down for any of this!" he cried out in mostly unintelligible grunts as he swung the club to and fro.
Jack on the other hand rose from his dusty position, and with a measured eye took a look at the hindquarters and the bend of the brute's knee. He didn't really want to get involved like this, but it was ostensibly his fault. Those bouncers didn't deserve a concussion in their inevitable win. So with practiced precision he sprung into action from behind.
He slammed his heel hard into the back of the brutes knee which caused him to stumble, shifting a step back and almost bending backwards, before Jack's same foot slammed at the pin of the opposite knee bringing down the proverbial trunk of the tree before boxing the man's ears on either side, the left hand keeping tight at the ear and skull and with a leap he slammed the man against the brick right above the temple.
Zenna - Yesterday at 11:38 PM The smartass voice in the back of her mind yelled out a silent TIMBER! as she watched the half-ogre's eyes roll up into the back of his head.
"Oh shit!" she yelped, ungracefully scrambling out of the way as the dazed brute swayed on his feet.
The bouncers were left gaping, unsure if they should try to catch the instigator or just...let him fall into the muck. Zenna used the wall to help climb back up to her feet, stashing her boobs back inside her shirt along the way. "It was him!" she panted, pointing to the ogre. Her eyes went to the stranger, one brow quirked as she silently asked him to back up her story. It was the least he could do, right?
Jack Mercer - Yesterday at 11:42 PM It was the kind of series of strikes that presented something professional about the man. He looked to the bouncers, but not before taking note of the show he had been robbed for one guilty instant. "Sorry, gents. Ma'am. I'm rather clumsy and he took offense." He said with that same impish smirk, before taking a silver sovereign coin and placing it on the man's back. He wasn't moving- not even making a noise- but he was breathing. "He came barging in the alley after throwing me down- and well- He was sorely tempted to take out his aggression on the both of us." He said, his choice of words not a lie per say.
"I do feel I owe him a drink all the same. Perhaps we'll get the guard here to cart him off... He won't be quite so boisterous from here on out." he said with a smirk, he had snapped the brute's knee. A man with that much weight wouldn't walk again without a healer, and he probably wouldn't talk without a stutter without a gag.
"Like I said... sorry for my part in the disruption. I'm sure you all have plenty of- business to take care of. And...thank you." he said towards the woman specifically.
Zenna - Yesterday at 11:50 PM Oh, this guy was good... Her eyes narrowed in thoughtful assessment as she looked him over. Her hands patted her curls back to rights - or at least a close fascimile of - and then smoothed most of the wrinkles out of her clothes. A discrete whiff confirmed her supicion that she smelled like the rest of the alley. Gross.
"Let the Mister have him," she told the bouncers, adopting a haughty tone of command that had the simpletons obeying automatically. She kept up the pretense of indignant prima donna, tutting at a smear on her skirt and huffing at a thin patch on her shirt that was probably already there. She didn't let go of the guise until the bouncers dragged the brute off and the door closed behind them.
She was going to have to explain a lot to Mister tomorrow afternoon.
Zenna canted her head to the side and gave the stranger a crooked grin. "You're welcome, by the way. Although I didn't do it just for you. I have a feeling you just beat me in catching his notice. Nice work there, too. How did you let him ever get the upper hand if you could do...all that?"
Jack Mercer - Yesterday at 11:54 PM "All of what?" he said with a shrug giving her the same mischievous grin that had found his face the moment Tyran's many threats came into focus. "They way people walk around here- you'd think they all knew how to do that." he said with a small chuckle as he rubbed his stomach and checked his ribs.
"Why did I let him get the upper hand? Or how? I mean it was easy how- I just had to restrain myself. Let him commit. If I had roared into battle- well, then I'd probably be getting worked over by the other sailors who went along inside without their drunk behemoth buddy. Made sense to let him shove me in here. Didn't expect you here though." He said in a tone that shifted between amusement and apology. "Oh, and the girth. I would of never got his back in this alley. Never got him off balance without a bit of a feint. I mean- it would of taken half the evening to get around him." he exaggerated. "Best to let him do it for me. "
June 6, 2017 Zenna - Today at 12:00 AM Her fingers brushed against the feathered edge of her mask and her cheeks heated in realization. She had that on the whole time? Eh...probably a good thing, worked in her favor. Explained the speedy reaction of the bouncers, too. They likely wouldn't have recognized her without it.
"Glad you have self restraint, then," she grinned. She jerked a thumb towards the side door and without thinking rambled on, "I just finished work...ing... Not that I'm a... I mean I was..." Zenna let out a deflating sigh. "Nevermind. Glad you're good, Hands. You, uh, going to let me by or you waiting for an encore performance?" She looked over his shoulder than back at him, raising her brows and grinning playfully. He was blocking the way to the street.
Jack Mercer - Today at 12:04 AM "The alley is plenty of big of enough for one of him and two of us. But since you'r in a hurry-- Feathers, I'll let you be." he said with a nod of his head to the right in the direction of the richer part of town, where he supposed a woman like her ended up at least before mornings harsh realities. She had a dancer's frame, not a whore- and there was a silent signal that he knew exactly what she meant.
Her grin wast only slightly obscured form the mask, but he liked it well enough. He hadn't expected to scratch both itches tonight. A beautiful woman, a spot of violence. It was almost like home. The realization dimmed his eyes for a moment, and he turned out into the streets. "Since there is no encore, you travel safe. "
Zenna - Today at 12:10 AM "There might be!" she called after him, suffering a full bodied blush she hoped he couldn't see. One of these days she was going to learn how to think before she talked. "Err... I mean. There is. An encore, or... I'm on stage tomorrow night. If you're interested."
Attempting to salvage at least a smidge of dignity from the situation she sashayed past him. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe she nuts. But she was smiling fully as she circled around to face him, walking backwards a few steps as she let her eyes rake over him, determined not to forget what this one looked like. She plucked a feather from her mask, placed it on her palm, then blew it towards him like one would a kiss.
"Hope to see ya in the crowd, Hands." She winked and chuckling softly, turned back around to walk away, taking the north turn towards the much nicer market district and keeping that extra sway to her hips all the way home. Just in case.
Jack Mercer - Today at 12:15 AM " Not my normal speed- but I can make exceptions. " he said snatching the feather from the air with a quick hand, gentle to the task. "We shall see." he said with a smile that slowly spread across his face, only growing broader as he watched that nice sway leave him where he stood just long enough to let her know she'd been watched. |
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
|
Post by Zenna on Jun 6, 2017 20:58:50 GMT -8
Jack Mercer - Today at 8:32 PM The prior evening or rather the early morn he had staggered into his room not drunk but a little tired. He had taken just enough of a beating to remind him what work felt like, to remind him that he had gotten at least a little soft. The bruising at his stomach wouldn't keep, thanks to the surcoat he was wearing underneath his rough clothing and a honed fighting instinct. The bruise made a poor trophy anyway.
The feather on the other hand... He'd placed it on the bedside table for a moment before putting it between the pages of his often carried notebook, a small leather bound ledger for notes and observations, habitually carried by adventurers who knew that forgetting details was like forgetting your sword.
The day had it's own events when he woke up around ten, but it was the evening that had him trolling the East district and wards, this time a bit more prepared with the leather breeches of a duelist and the gloves as well, a poet's shirt layered but short sleeved. He wore a saber on his hip and finely crafted boots. Unlike half or more of the participants in the evenings revels, he'd even took a bath.
The Lifted Skirt wasn't his normal establishment, not since his ventures with Kreiv who entirely enjoyed the human anatomy more than he had a right to. But it'd be rude to decline Feathers' invitation. Paying the bartender for the first of his drinks, he settled into the room at a small table meant for one or two and ignored just how sour the wine tasted.
Zenna - Today at 8:54 PM The brothel was currently enduring that odd moment of silence that happens between sets, when only the awkward shuffling of doxie skirts, chinking ice, and the too-loud laughter of the damned are left to fill the silence. The stage lamps had been doused, only the dizzying flicker of oily sconces and a few scattered candles illuminated the smoke filled room.
The stage lamps came on, brightly shining on a threadbare gold curtain. White feathers floated down from the rafters and those who had been there the night before suddenly sat up in the seats, a few hooted and hollared, but they all went quiet when the band struck the opening lines.
The White Rose slowly floated out onto the stage, chin proudly lifted and lips quirked into a sultry smirk. The white feather mask left only her eyes and the lower half of her face exposed, but it was enough to show that this woman felt no shame for what she was. She did not need approval; in fact, she was about to do the whole audience a favor.
She wore a sheer green silk robe over a bright yellow choli and a matching wrapped skirt. Coins dangled over her brow, swagged above the upper swells of her breasts, from her hips, wrists, and ankles. Every movement was tinkling music as she gracefully made her way to center stage. There she paused, as did the band, a different sort of silence filling the room as her stormy gray eyes scanned the audience.
Suddenly she smiled. Hands was here. That one got a special wink that earned him more than a few envious looks.
There must have been some signal given to the meager band although it wasn't immediately obvious. She led the band with her body, her sensual movements directing the fumbling muscians so that they suddenly sounded ten times better than they ever could alone. She teased, taunted, used the sheer robe as a prop so that it was only near the triumphant end it was finally dropped. More covered than any other whore who'd stood on that stage, the crowd roared with approval as she swayed and undulated. She ended with a final pose and a jingling wiggle of hips, her back to the crowd and her smirking at them over one shoulder.
Jack Mercer - Today at 9:12 PM Jack was used to attention. Perhaps that was why today he didn't look as meager as yesterday. Today the behemoth's friends if they were in the audience wouldn't see an easy mark, but a man who looked dangerous as a professional choice. He was handsome enough that it was clear he didn't get hit often. That's a dangerous sign. But he didn't puff his chest out, or even gesture to the jealous crowd at her fleeting acknowledgement. If anything, he scarcely acknowledged it save the spread of lips in a light grin. Feathers new what she was about. That's for sure. She moved like the dancers at the festivals in the east, among the deserts, the grand bazaars filled with hundreds of dancers.
Her wink didn't quicken the pulse, but invited him to look. As if to set aside his vague resistance to such a show. She lured the crowd in, and Jack went along with it willingly. Each undulation had a beauty that to him was not altogether sensual. It was expressive. More than just a show. She was doing this...for fun. Any whore could do it for money. He'd met a hundred women who thought themselves performers with a host of daddy issues, a thirst for danger, and a deadness inside that threatened to consume them.
They danced for coin. For therapy. To manipulate. But not---for fun. Sure she made a host of coin. But something about it stood out to the mercenary. Something he could appreciate. Among the hooting and hollering, the loud applause, Jack leaned back in his chair and put his drink down, and with a satisfied nod clapped and allowed his earnest delight to show on his face.
Zenna - Today at 9:24 PM It was curiosity not embarrassment that had her glimpsing to where Hands sat, clapping and grinning along with the rest. But she caught the subtle nod that set him apart from all the others - he saw it. He knew. Her smile grew and enjoyment sparkled in the eyes behind the mask. She kicked the robe up with her toes and caught it in mid-air, then gave the crowd a playful smirk before sauntering off stage left.
She had a word with the bouncer backstage, ensuring Hands got a drink on her from the bar, then went into the performer's room to change in near record time. Butterflies turned circles in her belly and her heart pounded in her chest. Would he stay? Would he still be there?
Did she care if he was? Maybe...maybe.
A few minutes later she came out dressed in nice-but-not-too-nice attire, the corset accentuating her tiny waist and the swell of full breasts. The mask was gone, and her regal demeanor kept any of the randy clientèle from trying to cop a free feel. She didn't look like a whore, and she walked as if she owned the place.
"Marty!" she called out once she reached the bar. The barkeep turned around and grinned at her. "Did my drink get delivered?" If Hands was there, she couldn't find him in the crowd, and she didn't want to make eye contact with the wrong guy.
Jack Mercer - Today at 9:31 PM Jack was presently pleased at his delivered drink. His own having turned out to be disapointing but enjoyed all the same. He glanced to the server and insisted on tipping a few copper dregs, enough for a fair lunch. Jack had the intent to leave before the place got all..sleazy. But the drink stayed his course, and with a slow meandering gaze he inspected the room. Plenty of fighters here. Sailors. Theives. He'd need to look through here eventually. He didn't bring his wealth. It wasn't his to keep. Across the sea, did his fortune lie. He'd just have to make another one.
He once thought he'd pursue a job as a guard. Something simple. But the challenge of the day- it had him itching. Had him thinking about what else this world could give him, if he but pinned it to the wall and demanded it. Jack smiled wistfully over his new drink and took a savoring taste. "To Tyran." he said in a whispering toast to himself.
It was nice of Feathers to send it. Nice of her to invite him into her world, even at such a distance. He imagined she'd be trouble. Try as he might, he didn't think he cared. Jack considered standing, getting away from the jeering and leering mob as the next act tried desperately to follow, instead he brought out his pocket ledger- its pages marked with a white feather.
Zenna - Today at 9:39 PM Marty lifted his chin in the direction the drink had gone and she followed it to find Hands looking into a small book instead of at the number of topless doxies making their rounds of the tables. Her grin widened. This was definitely different.
Now what was he reading?
She couldn't stay long, eventually someone would figure out who she was and she didn't want that. She was already breaking rules just to indulge herself with this bloke. What was life if she didn't live a little, though?
Zenna eased her way through the crowd until she stood behind Hands and she lifted up on her toes to peer over his shoulder. "328 plus 482 is 810, not 710. That hundred coppers could buy a girl a nice pair of shoes, if she was into that sort of thing." She dropped back down to her heels and grinned a little. "Hi, Hands."
Jack Mercer - Today at 9:46 PM His brow arched as she came over his shoulder, and he chuckled at her correction. "Good to have you to check my math Feathers. You missed your calling." he said with a smirk that came after he turned his head to take her in. "I imagine you need to get out of here...Are you coming with me?" he asked as much as told. He had a kind of way of speaking that didn't have the annoyance of pretension or presumption, but still indicated what the best answer would be. At least the most fun.
He stood from the chair, uninterested in the Lifted Skirt's overused goods and undersexed clientele. "You were a wonder. Almost as good as your mathematics." He said with jest somewhere in the sentence, but where was deliberately unclear. The appreciation however wasn't witheld. She didn't need the praise. That is why she deserved it.
The ledger she had peeked at was written in some sort of cypher. Seemingly nonsense, but a simple skip cypher. It was thoughts, observations. Some of it written plain. And it's bookmark was a familiar token. He slipped it into a pocket and picked up his gloves from the table. And without waiting to hear her answer, he started moving towards the exit.
Zenna - Today at 9:50 PM She took his arm like she'd done so a million times before, answering his question without having to say a word. He still had the feather, she liked that. He didn't strike her as the sort who kept a lot of momentos, made her ego feel good to know hers was special. He moved with a confidence that matched hers, and a certain kind of masculine grace.
Who was this guy that he wrote in code, fought like a high class mercenary, and moved like a practiced Journi acrobat? She mused on that as the two of them made their way through the crowd to the exit. Nobody bothered them, she'd think on the possible reasons for that later.
Once outside she breathed deep of the night air, even the somewhat tarnished east side aroma felt fresh as spring in comparison to the pollution inside the Skirt. She let a cozy silence settle between them, following wherever he led without much care for the final destination. Life takes you where it will, and sometimes the journey is on a handsome stranger's arm. She wasn't about to complain.
"I'm glad you enjoyed the dance. I had fun knowing you were watching," she admitted easily, turning a smile up at her escort. "I'm curious though... How did you recognize me without the mask?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 10:05 PM " I noticed you in my peripheral, I wasn't sure. But as I got the details...it started to make sense. Your chin is rounded but lean. Your neck rises from your shoulders... Your shoulders are too well formed, pale. Strong. I'd say you'd make as good a fighter as a dancer. Also- you wear a lot of white." he said indicating the blouse. "A fool hardy color for a dancer who is anything less than professional. Also- expensive to clean. Obviously you like the color."
His list of quickly brought to mind details might of marked him a little observant or a lot odd. Probably both. But he couldn't really be bothered to care which she found. His steps seemed aimless for the most part, taking them further from the dingy part of the east district, but instead to some of the taverns and inns frequented by those with different more...concealed tastes.
"And yeah...you did have fun up there. So did I. Thank you...really, for the invitation. It's the closest I've got to a social gathering since making landfall."
Zenna - Today at 10:16 PM "I like all colors, but black and white hold a special place," she shrugged, asking no questions about where they were going. "You should get out more if you're planning to stay. Lots of potential in Tyran, could make a fortune here. Like...that place?" she nodded towards a two story red brick building. A sign above the door read "Taylor's Tailors." Zenna clucked her tongue at the corniness and continued.
"Place is owned by Joni Taylor, her father bought it for her three years ago when she turned 21 and still hadn't been proposed to. Best building on this block but her tailors are about three years behind on current fashion and their fabric is shit. Her father likes to gamble, he's about two weeks from ruin and then that beauty and everything in it goes up for auction."
She lifted a finger from his arm to point at the stone building across the street. "That one used to be a bakery but the building is shoddy on the inside, whole thing needs gutted. But it's right next door to the most successful cobbler this side of the Wildview River. So much potential...," she sighed softly and then smiled up at him. "How are you planning to make yours? Or do I have to decipher that code of yours first before you can tell me?" she teased.
Jack Mercer - Today at 10:25 PM "Fortune is boring. I've done that, haven't you?" he said with a smile that showed his interest in her journey. In her future. " You act as though you have, but I imagine it's the future. You'll run half the district if not all I'm sure. Give it time. This place is full of stories like that." He said encouraging as he glanced to Taylor's Tailors. "There is a place here...with the green tinted glass. The Rose's Thorn. Very unique. An old war buddy owns it. The fellow used to do his fighting across the sea. Skilled fencer. The place is relaxing when they aren't holding point fights- they keep it quiet. Not so much a place to make money- but a sanctuary."
He indicated the building just ahead, it looked almost as if several townhouses had been pushed together, the surroundings fenced in with black iron, green manicured grass plush save for the laid stones that led to the banded red door. The stone walls were grey but inconstant, as if any rock that fit the mold was used and mortared.
"I've had a few job leads, but nothing solid. But it's social stuff I've got to find time for. You're right. As for the cypher, it's silly. Force of habit. Occupational thing once upon a time."
Ahead of them the doorman smiled. "Mercer...you sly dog, bringing a lady? " His casual demanor was brief before he nodded and bent a the waist a bit towards the woman. " Welcome to the Rose's Thorn. First fight is in twenty minutes. An Aldori! You'll love it. As usual, Mercer drinks are on Master Jonathan, though he's out this evening. "
Zenna - Today at 10:35 PM She dipped into a proper curtsy, granting the doorman with a small smile - polite but not inviting - and kept her steps matched with Hands' as they both stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the interior with a mild curiosity. Fights? The only fights she'd seen had been in brothels, tents, or the Emporer's Colloseum in the far east.
"My future, by the way," she answered absently, a bit more intrigued by her surroundings at first, although her ambition and excitement began to seep through as she continued. "I have a lead on a shop, I'm going to take it over. Sell antiques, odds 'n ends, rare artifacts, relics, obsure tomes... Unique stuff. A little of everything in a one-of-a-kind boutique... Oh. I'm rambling. Sorry," she grinned sheepishly. "Now who is Master Jonathan and why is he obligated to buy you a lifetime of drinks?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 10:46 PM He smiled at the rambling indulging in it like he would wine. "Interesting. Well- count me a patron. Or a supplier. I've found more than my fair share of curios, artifacts.. Though most of the time the good stuff only brings trouble." he said with a grin. He lead them to a table that was sunken into the floor a half level, right in front of a long aisle marked and bordered by green slate tile- the center of it dry wood- perhaps teak? It looked well worn and cared for- almost like the deck of a ship. The aisle was eight foot wide and 45 feet long. 15 yards. It showcased why the building was so wide. The center width looked like it could be extended, but usually wasn't. The wood was under closer inspection panels which locked with each other.
On either side of the aisle was a singular doorway leading to a small antechamber which was sunken even further into the floor. Perhaps an entrance to a basement. Tables lined the aisle on either side, with cushioned leather seats built into the sunken section. Above, in the more traditional area were tables more befitting any bar or lounge. Rugs marked places where patrons should cross to the other side.
"Jonathan was a sailor, a commandant of His Majesty Damon Baldred the Third. An Arenian king across the sea. No one of importance here, but a man many men died for even after he himself died." He spoke of the King with a kind of reverence, not royal- just like a friend would speak of the deceased. " Jonathan didn't have to die for the king. We ended up meeting on the Isle of Scytha. He was defending a colony before he was overtaken by dissidents. Luckily we were hired to support the evacuation of the colony. We evacuated the hell out of the colony...after we made sure the dissidents properly paid for the land. He's under the false impression that he owes me. King Baldred paid that debt upfront before I even got there."
There was something wistful about his recollection. He missed those days. And while he might not be aware, anyone listening would be. "So, drinks. Food. All of it. We don't need to pay, but I usually pay the staff what I'd be paying Jonathan. Every wins. That to say...you deserve some food that doesn't have the smell of fish or grease. Consider it payment for ruining your evening."
Zenna - Today at 11:05 PM "Ruining my evening?" she asked, genuinely baffled by the semi-apology. "Apologizing in advance for future trespasses?" She smiled slowly, almost fondly, touched that he'd opened up so much and shared his story. Well, one of them. Hands (Mercer, she corrected herself) was a man with a lot more stories, she had no doubt.
"I'll have anything hot with meat in it, rolls, and I prefer whiskey to wine, ale over mead, and if it's a must, red over white. And my name's Zenna. But you can keep calling me Feathers if ya want to," she winked.
She absently pushed her curls back over her shoulder and tucked the single white streak behind her ear. "I've never heard of Arenia, I traveled here from just east of Uskesh, about a hundred furlongs from the Wastes if you're familiar. Could have gone there but I happened upon an obsure Tyran History book written by some nameless scholar and I was smitten. Soon as I was se---uh, able...I came here." Her cheeks flushed at her near slip. She hadn't talked like this with anyone since gaining her freedom and Hands was an easy one to spill her guts to.
She smirked, acknowledging her discomfort instead of trying to hide it away. "We going to get to our drinks at least before I continue spilling all my secrets to you?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:13 PM The server came with whiskey. Perhaps that was a coincidence that it was Hand's preferred beverage at a place like this. The young woman had been close at hand for the order, close enough that Mercer gave her a look to confirm and the woman set off. "Zenna...East of Uskesh..yes. I've heard of that. I went to somewhere a little like it a few times. Al-Ahara. That was a lifetime ago it feels like." he said as he raised his glass.
"To Jonathan and to nameless scholars. I came for similar reasons- this is the kind of place a man can come and be forgotten. Or create a new memory. You can call me Jack, but Hands is nice too. John if you're the formal type, but I've never cared much for John. "
" So you've been taught how to perform, that's for certain. You've got a real mind for business." he paused putting his hand to his trimmed beard, close cropped to his face. " An interesting combination. But you know that already. Tell me, you could make coin in a hundred ways...charm investors, do whatever you wished. I can only imagine you dance because it is fun. It stills you as it moves you. That's why I come here. It reminds me where I came from. Roots I carried with me." He said with a kind of earnestness that had no place in the smooth warrior types that filled Wendy's on occasion with ego and steel.
Zenna - Today at 11:23 PM Her heart jumped at the mention of Al-Ahara. He knew the area...he'd know the culture or at least could guess... Did it matter? She'd come to terms with her past a long time ago. Her shoulders lost their briefbit of tension and she lifted her glass, nodding in approval of the toast before taking a decent drink. She didn't gulp, that would be tacky, but she didn't sip, either. This wasn't her first whiskey.
"You used to fight?" she guessed, glancing towards the sectioned off area. "For coin or pleasure? Or both?" she added, turning back to smile at him. "It's why I dance. Dancing is...communication. A body can tell a story just as well as words if you know what you're doing. And it has twice the impact." Her eyes dropped down to the amber liquid inside the glass, distant as she thought backwards in time.
"Dancing saved my life. It practically -was- my life. I was born Journi," she looked up, searching his face to gauge his reaction. "My parents were part of a performance troupe before they died. I think every Journi is a born performer," she chuckled. "Besides, I'm good at it. I like doing things I'm good at."
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:31 PM "We should all be so pleased to do things we are good at, I've met a few Journi, sailed with one for a spell. Or rather, they sailed and I paid to toll. They loved stories. Traded in them. In a land of efreet, of legend and lore- of thousand nights of heated stories, where the dance of a woman saves lives and takes them... I imagine this place is only natural for you." he said with an arched brow. His gaze was assessing but never judgmental- neutral. Passive in that regard...but a piercing stare all the same.
"Enough of my commentary, you asked me questions. I fought for coin at first. An opportunity for a better life than I was born to. Then after finding out I could do it and be good at it... well, that changed things. I became less pragmatic about it to quote a friend of mine. I fought for causes as much as coin, but usually at the same time. There was a time I was ashamed I liked it. A time where I counted the cost of my fortune. Then I realized I cannot forswear pleasure where there is.." he paused searching for the right word, another drink taken. "Exhilaration."
"I used to try to avoid the danger in my line of work. And then I realized I felt alive in those moments. That the uncontrollable can be controlled. " He said with a shake of his head. "Foolish. Short sighted. But a longer career than I deserved among greater men and women than I. Doesn't hurt I'm on the right side of the ground and not missing any teeth."
Zenna - Today at 11:40 PM She recognized practicality and self-acceptance. She liked it. Prized it, even. That was her idea of smart, the dumb and foolish rarely survive the long game. "They are very nice teeth," she complimented, smiling. "I can only assume you are very good, very lucky, or some combination of both."
She leaned forward, absently turning her drink in slow circles while her eyes kept watch on his face. He really was a pretty man...had a nobleman's jawline, and good lips...oh. She was staring. With a self-effacing chuckle she sighed and leaned back, dragging the drink along with her. After taking a sip she glanced back towards the ring. "Is that where they'll fight? Do they take bets or is it solely for entertainment?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:42 PM "Tonight, entertainment. Betting on fencing can be nerve wracking for some. And well- it's best if that kind of gambling is well organized. If Jonathan is out, I doubt they'll make any official wagers. " He said as they began to prepare to start the fight. Two men wearing fighting leathers held rapiers in hand giving each testing swings and thrusts- as an older man stood in the front and center surveying both sides of the crowd. (c) Jack couldn't of told you what he said of course. He wasn't paying attention to the announcement. He was taking the moment to stare himself. "My...uh...yeah, I guess it was both. Also I found out early the importance of masked helms." DId he just stumble? It had been entirely too long. Perhaps he should of found some fun afterall just to keep his wits about him.
"My money would be on the one of the left. Red band on the arm. He's the Aldori. Fine swordsmen. Rapiers, longswords, they even have an Aldori dueling sword- specifically designed for this kind of enviroment. Good point, better edge. Light enough for a quick person to use- heavy enough to cleave through leather, metal, bone. But he won't be using that. The fights here are usually to point- or to first blood. Occasionally more spirited contests happen from what I've been told." |
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 7:02:01 GMT -8
It was a thrilling experience.
As the men took their places in the ring the anticipation and excitement of the crowd increased sevenfold. The hype man did his job well, drawing the audience's attention, getting them riled up, and she could see the two bladesmen responding to the vibrant energy in the room. The house would get better results out of them and the crowd both, the hype man was worth his weight in gold.
She'd watched similar fights in the past, usually while kneeling and occasionally with a collared leash cinched around her neck. But she wasn't a fighter, she couldn't identify the weapons like Hands (Jack) did nor tell the difference between a proper grip and a fumbling one. They all looked like they knew what they were doing to her. Uneducated as she was in battle, it didn't keep her from gasping when the sharp ends of the blades got close to slicing flesh.
All that aside, the real reason for the thrill sat lounging in the chair across from hers. What an interesting man he was... He had stories and she wanted to learn them. All of them.
The rest of the evening passed in a sort of blurry buzz of enjoyment. She didn't drink too much, laughed at a few of his jokes, told a few of her own. They chatted between fights, pointing out interesting observations about the contestants or folks in the crowd. People watching was one of her favorite past times and Hands had sharp eyes and a quick wit.
Afterwards he walked her home and they said goodbye at the foot of the steps leading up to her apartment. He got a special smile but not a kiss. She didn't look back at him as she climbed the steps and went inside.
Hands had not been part of her plan, he'd become an object of mass exceptions. He'd seen her without the mask, learned her real name, some of her history, and now he knew where she lived.
Gods help her, she didn't care. The future still looked fun to her. |
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 17:54:57 GMT -8
Jack couldn’t deny that she was remarkable. It was an uncomfortable feeling that grew from the general excitement of the evening. He didn’t remember his purpose here being so...well. He didn’t have the proper word for it. Perhaps that is what was uncomfortable. It was altogether mysterious, differing from his previous experience however lengthy. Her joy was infectious, bewitching. He found himself envious of it.
That kind of joy generally came through deep pain and the alleviation of it. He could speculate, but something in him called for restraint. Told him that he didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know. Good boundary to put into place. He stepped from the ascent to the apartment and turned into the street for the long walk across town to the room he was renting. He didn’t have long there before he’d be due for another week, and if he didn’t hustle he’d waste money on those accommodations instead of getting secure housing. He was spoiled. She’d all but called him on it in her laudatory praise of Tyran’s plethora of opportunity.
He shouldn’t be thinking about the next time he’d see her. Something they hadn’t scheduled. Instead he’d need to focus. Something that didn’t happen all the way home. She was intriguing, but not false in it. He had met mysterious women before, complicated knots of a creature- usually feigning some mystic depth. For all the showmanship, she didn’t seem to be feigning much of anything. It was refreshing to see such authenticity.
Once he made it home he flopped down on the bed that did not compare to where he once slept. The ragged blanket cast aside as he kicked off his boots, soon removed his breeches and got ready to sleep. When he drifted off he found himself curious. Was that the first time he hadn’t been kissed?
In spite of himself, he smiled himself to sleep.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 17:59:43 GMT -8
He could find her if he wanted to. That was the mantra the very next day and for two more following. She didn’t exactly hold her breath waiting for him to unexpectedly show up, but she did walk around in a constant state of vibrating anticipation. She thought she saw him everywhere. Walking along the vendor stands in the market. A glimpse of a similar profile in front of a shop. A shadowed figure at the back of the Skirt before her next performance. It was a dizzying couple of days emotionally, excitement brought her up, disappointment brought her down. Amusing, really. Zenna went about her business like usual. She introduced herself to every merchant, vendor, tinker, and peddler she came across during the day. Listened to the old ladies gossip outside the nearby bakery every morning. She purchased items carefully, selecting only the best within a certain price range and using the opportunity to drop helpful hints and casual advice. The baker was suggested to speak to a particular miller. The tailor learned about an incoming shipment of silk arriving the next day. It was all about establishing connections. On the third night she sat on a crate she’d dragged up the stairs to the small porch outside her apartment, sipping on a glass of cheap but quality whiskey she’d coaxed from the landlord early that day. It was a clear night, thumbnail moon, a faint breeze stirring the air and erasing the tension of a busy but productive day. Zenna wore what she thought of as comfy clothes: a green cotton halter top, red cambric shalwar, and a black sash loosely tied around her waist. A dark blue head scarf tamed her wild curls, the ends knotted at the nape of her neck. She sat leaning back on the railing, her legs drawn close to her chest, drink idly dangling from one hand, and her head tipped back so she could watch the stars.
Watch the stars, and indulge in a bit of daydreaming about a man named Hands.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:00:45 GMT -8
It was nearly a week’s time before Jack allowed himself back into the East District. That is probably because he wasn’t sure he’d get any work done if he didn’t. It was difficult to get work without a reputation, something he had forgotten. His old allies had connections in spades when they were starting out. He had a bar owner, a dancer-merchant-haunter of his dreams. It was not an impressive list, and one that led to *frustrating* evenings.
Half way through the week he had crumbled to Jonathan’s constant badgering and requests and agreed to duel the Aldori on Friday. He’d get half the take, the Aldori was settling for a quarter. Jonathan knew he’d make the money on drinks and future press. Jack had fought in the Arenian tournaments at only nineteen. He’d make good on the investment. Jack was less confident he would in a world full of lycans and angels, nekos and demons.
Funny thing was he was wrong. Humans tended to like humans. They tended to enjoy the struggle between men who had limitations. You could identify to such inherent frailty. Wednesday the advertisements went out. The cryer hit the streets. Mercer vs. Altaro! A fight for the ages, two skilled swordsmen at the height of their talents! See the exotic dueling method of the Aldori and the vaunted skills of an Arenian fencer!
The whole thing was more than a little silly to Jack. Did anyone here know where Arenia was? Enjoying a drink after a long day Thursday he found himself in the East District more or less on accident. He was surprised that there was buzz on the fight… it had him wondering if Feather’s would be interested in an encore of her own…
Jack had spent the days working diligently on finding the right kind of place. With luck he’d land it. But tonight he made the decision to yield to distraction. He didn’t leave his old life behind just to work at such mundane things. Feathers, she wasn’t mundane at all.
He wandered closer and closer to her apartment. A little nervous even at the idea. He had never came calling- now that he thought of it. His relationships had always been so complicated, courtly at worst and insidiously ‘casual’ at best. When he came into view of the apartment he shrugged his shoulders and made his approach.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:01:22 GMT -8
Day five found her in the same place as day three, wearing similar attire and drinking whiskey with a bare foot propped up on the porch railing. She wasn’t daydreaming about Hands, although. She was making plans. She held a flyer in her hand advertising a fight at a place she’d been deliberately avoiding for nearly a week. He knew where she was, but she had an idea of where to find him, too, and now she even had a time. Convenient. But should she go? Was it too bold of a move? Would he be turned off if he spotted her among the audience? “Hmm… Seems fair, really. He watched me perform, my turn to watch him. Right?” She glanced down at the flyer and frowned. “It could seem pushy. Desperate. Ew.” She made a face and let out a sigh, the flyer falling back to her lap as she consoled herself with a long drink. “Oh, fuck it. I want to go. So I’ll go,” she nodded decisively, a wide grin quickly erasing the frown as she happily snuggled back against the wall, as comfortable and cozy on that crate as she could have been curled up on pillows. Zenna continued talking to herself, oblivious to the faint sound of approaching footsteps or the telling creak of that first step. “Good chance to make some coin since I have inside information, too,” she justified further, quite content with her decision. “But what to wear? Hmm…”
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:02:09 GMT -8
“Personally, I’d wear something awfully distracting. I hear Altaro is a leg man.” he offered near the middle of the stairs. He came with an easy smile, one that settled in as nervousness fled. No need to ponder social norms or ramifications. He was here. Might as well enjoy it.
“I’d come all this way to tell you about this you know. Imagine my disappointment to see you with a flyer. I doubt I’ll turn out the crowd the White Rose does…” he said in lowest tones as he came up to the landing and leaned against the rail. “But it’s a good payday- and a good thing to do for Jonathan. His concept is good- but he can only run the place so long with my impressive tab draining him dry.”
Jack reached out to take the flyer if she’d give it, his eyes taking note of it before getting distracted by the way her hair spilled out of the scarf. He had liked Al-Ahara. Wouldn’t of minded getting acquainted with all that sand. A shame he was there to meet interesting people, go to far off dungeons, and kill elder evils. It always put a damper on making friends. “How’s work? Your pursuit of fortune? Must be good to take a night off tomorrow to watch two men try to poke holes in each other.”
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:02:47 GMT -8
His voice startled her out of her absent musing. She let out a yip of surprise and then dissolved into quiet laughter, amused at herself and absolutely delighted to see him here. It all showed on her expressive face, she didn’t try to hide her pleasure at his visit or how touched and impressed she was that he’d sought her out. It was satisfying on a primal level. Men were natural hunters, predators who survived by stalking what they wanted and being strong enough to grab it at the first opportunity. To her, this wasn’t so different. Hands had just gone up a few notches in her esteem. “I’m good with distracting,” she openly flirted, giving him a wink before reaching down to retrieve the three-quarters full whiskey bottle from where she’d sat it. She filled up her glass and then held it out to Jack in invitation. After sitting back she continued, unable to get the smile off her face. “I’m making connections. Harvy at the Skirt is beyond impressed, might coax him to give me a piece of the place before the end of next week, but for sure I’ll have it by the end of the month. I’m still working on the landlord, he’s a stubborn one. Old goat doesn’t want to retire but his son’s wife is pregnant again and they already have their hands full with a set of twins and two more besides. Trying to convince him he should move in with them out in the country, he’s still thinking about it.”
She lightly stomped her foot on the porch. “I’ll rename the shop and get it stocked up once I seal the deal with him. The Hidden Quest, I’m thinking. Might use the coins I win from your fight to push the old goat into making a decision.” She gave him a crooked grin and arched a brow. “You’re going to make me a lot of coin...right? From what I heard the odds are still in the Aldori’s favor.”
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:03:01 GMT -8
He waved off the whiskey if only for the moment with a shake of his head however reluctant. “Can’t tonight. Drink that is...and yeah. You’ll get your gold. The Aldori is exotic. Exotic is not always an indication of good.” he said with a smirk that taunted at the implication.
“He’s confident. Doesn’t know that I’ve trained with his weapon. Doesn’t know that I’ll be wielding one.” He said with a shrug. “Take advantage of the situation at your heart’s content. I intend to make it quite the show.” It was the first show of pure bravado he had shown, but it rang a bit false. As if it wasn’t boasting but a prediction. He didn’t seem to take pride in it, instead he just knew it was true. It was almost boring- that was the tinge in his voice. In truth it made sense the more one knew his motivations for picking here to settle.
“I’m glad to hear all your irons are in the fire. I just managed to get a nice lead on an apartment of sorts. Good place to work from. After the duel I think I’ll plan an expedition- go searching for loot. I’ll give you first pass. I’ve heard of a really interesting jug. “ he said without any guile. “Seriously, like a jug full of liquid and produces it like...magically or something.” he added before propping up against the rail and leaning on his elbows.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:04:46 GMT -8
He was going to make her a small fortune, she’d keep that to herself. Secretly she hoped he didn’t open up as much with anyone else before the fight otherwise the odds would rapidly shift. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the tone in his voice. The Aldori wasn’t even going to be a challenge, but Hands planned on making it a show. She respected that. Her brow quirked with sudden interest as her senses zeroed in on the information he so casually dropped. “That’s exactly the sort of thing I’m looking for. Keep tabs on your traveling expenses and any out-of-pocket expenditures, I’ll compensate you fully and give you a piece of the profits besides for giving me first dibs. Might take me a bit for the profit part to come in, don’t even have a shop yet but I can already think of two buyers who might be interested in a piece like that. Even know a bloke I can have appraise it,” she added with a satisfied grin. There was an interesting beat of silence then as her eyes met his and she became intensely aware that privacy lay just on the other side of the apartment door. Twelve steps forward, six steps left, and there was a bed. Hell, there were pillows and cushions and… Screw that, the floor would do just fine.
The grin and all amusement faded away, replaced by a telling heat that colored her cheeks even in the hardly-there light of a thumbnail moon. She liked the unruly lock of hair that refused to remain swept off his brow. His eyes were confident and self-assured. He had nice shoulders, muscles but not so many it became unattractive. It was so easy to imagine him hovering above her… Zenna gave herself a shake and tipped the glass up, downing the contents completely so she could blame the heat in low places on the drink instead of the man. She let out a long, shaky breath and then tipped her face up, giving him a crooked grin. No way he missed all that on her face. “So tell me, Hands… Do you need to save all your vigor for the fight?”
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:05:16 GMT -8
He hadn’t expected that. Any of it really. The nice business offer, fair but with enough incentive to put the onus on him to refuse or renegotiate at disadvantage. He’d keep in mind her talents. She’d profit off his, perhaps he could profit off of hers. “Thank you, that’s a very attractive offer. I’ll keep a ledger. I’ll keep expenses low for both of our sakes.” He said in that tone that told whispered stories of his previous exploits, jobs, adventures.
Soon enough however, it was another kind of exploit that had both of their attention. His blood thundered in his veins, that sensation of being completely and utterly alive. Lips curled up in a smile he couldn’t hold back. He didn’t look half a suave as a moment before, but he looked twice as lively. “Well, no. I don’t need -all- of my vigor for a fight…” He said as he shifted on one heel glancing down where she sat and finding his eyes wandering to all the places he intended not to look at tonight.
How long had it been? Since he’d been interested even, in such a thing. Memory crept in to bother him, to reel him in. He ignored it. But he had the sense of trepidation, of hesitation, as if this current path wasn’t the most ideal.
To hell with it.
Jack crossed the landing and found himself right infront of her comfortable crate, legs sprawled out for support and torso leaned back against the support port holding up the shelter above the door. “What did you have in mind?” he said as he forced his hungry eyes closed for a moment to enjoy the night air, and try to gather his thoughts. She could be a business partner. This could be quite detrimental to the long term prospect of that. Needed to breathe. Needed to ignore voices that said to hell with it.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:05:39 GMT -8
Her expression gentled as she watched the war play out across his features. He fought an ancient tension; she sympathized. She even appreciated his worries and doubts, understood the world they were born from. Had she been any other woman they would have been valid concerns. But she wasn’t just any other woman. The tables had turned, the roles reversed, and she had no qualms against being the hunter. With his eyes closed he didn’t see the predatory light in her eyes as she fluidly uncoiled from the crate, rolling forward and rising up to her feet in a slow, smooth series of movement that hardly rustled the fabric of her clothes. She stood less than an inch away, close enough the rise and fall of her chest with every breath grazed her breasts against a fold in his shirt. Watching his face, she reached behind her and turned the doorknob, opening it with a single push of a forefinger. The creak as it swung open held a note of import that didn’t escape her notice. He had a choice to make. Just like with the offer of whiskey and a profitable business deal, she made the move without any hesitation. It was up to him whether or not to take it. Although...she was at least getting a kiss out of it first.
Zenna lifted up on her toes and slanted her lips over his. It was a slow kiss. Exploring texture with steadily increasing pressure and a bold flick of her tongue. She leaned into him but kept her balance, offering, sampling, but waiting for him to either accept what she dangled in front of him...or choose to walk away.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:06:24 GMT -8
A kiss could tell a person a lot of things. As Jack leaned into it, never back and found himself falling easily into her embrace, he returned it. His arms wrapped around her waist lightly, without the heavy possession most men implied upon first affection. He met her in the middle, respecting that this was another one of her skills- something she took pleasure in being good at. He didn’t judge that any more than he’d judge a lady in waitings skill with needlepoint. Jack was excellent at reading people, he had a history of it in which every time it had been high stakes.
This was no different. She could be insulted by a denial. She could be bored by an acceptance. She could be any manner of things. But something about right now felt...rushed. Life did not go according to plans, procedures, plot. It was a wild thing, and even so- tonight, this Thursday evening, did not feel like the time he would put his ghosts away and embrace something living, breathing.
Those clear thoughts were hard to see, to grasp with the haze her kiss, her touch, her body brought to his senses. His lips met her own, allowing her to dominate the exchange a fleeting moment before he did the same, pushing up from te railing and across the small landing to the door, it’s creaking sway a memory that would oddly enough stick around. Passion pushed them across the threshold, where she was nearly lifted above the doorway placed gently back upon her heels.
Jack did not follow through the threshold. Instead, he paused his steps and slowly pulled himself away as he gently pushed backward into her apartment. “Our table is yours tomorrow….I”ll see you when it’s over.” Came the words said clear but nearly breathless at his own departure. Jack left, going down the stairs one at a time- all of his will summoned to not turn around and head back up before the door was closed.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:06:55 GMT -8
Disappointment came and went, her throaty chuckle following him down the stairs. She didn’t wait inside the apartment, she bolted out the door and onto the landing to lean over the railing and call down to the retreating Hands, “I’ll make sure you see me, Hands! I’ll definitely be watching you!” With a big grin, she waved and then spun around, closing the door firmly before she did something truly foolish like chase the poor guy down the street. With an amused groan at her heated state, she snagged a pillow off the floor and fell into the bay window, clutching the pillow close to her chest with a silly grin reflecting mockingly back at her in the glass. Now that had been fun. Not just any man would have had the strength of will to walk away from her. He’d wanted her, she had no doubt. There were shadows weighing heavy on him and she could respect that, even if she didn’t suffer the affliction herself. For her it was simple: there were no guarantees in life. The roof could cave in and kill her dead before morning. He could die in the fight tomorrow by some weird twist of fate. She learned a long time ago not to let fear stop her from milking every bit of enjoyment out of life while she could. At the same time, she believed life was what you made of it. Had to work hard to change things, and if you were willing to do that then you became the architect of your own fate...minus those freak happenstances, of course. So she worked for what she wanted while also going with the flow, taking what she wanted when she could along the way.
She wasn’t thinking of balls and chains, commitments and assurances, or any thing remotely along those lines. She was thinking that having Jack’s body working above hers would be quite lovely, and why shouldn’t she enjoy a worthy male’s company? Sleeping tonight was not going to be easy, but tomorrow… Well, maybe she wouldn’t sleep at all.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:07:26 GMT -8
He kicked himself, berated himself, and then when it was done he congratulated himself for walking away. It wasn’t for any principled reason. Instead it was a kind of respect. He knew his hangups. He knew that she’d be the first woman since Aliyah. Aliyah took a certain amount of his life- more than any of the others. Their separation a violent enough affair… He wasn’t ready.
It’d be tainted. The whole taste of the evening, the pleasure, the memory it’d have her ruining it. She didn’t cast too long a shadow, but he needed to cleanse his palette all the same. He wouldn’t do that in a brothel, nor would he do it with a long bout of celibacy. He just dedicated the rest the night to the same thing that got him through years of these kinds of complicated feelings.
He quite honestly destroyed his body in hopes to build it up again. It was outright masochism. He found his spot, a corner alley where a post was perpendicular to two walls. With that spot he put himself through the paces, repeated pull ups and variations of exercises he’d learned or stolen from fighters across the world (or the small part of the world he was familiar). Soon enough he was on the beach struggling through the sand. A few hours later he was regretting such a juvenile temper tantrum masquerading as meditative training. He was no monk. Self denial was a crock and after a late night bath (cold) he spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. No longer haunted from what was left behind, he found himself haunted by what waited in front of him.
The morning came, and he was off to a fitting. Apparently Jonathan was sparing no expense and having them duel in the Aldori fashion, it meant white clothing to better show the blood. Jonathan said the inevitable truth that he looked like shit, and Jack decided after the fitting he’d get the sleep he had been missing. After a nap, he went to the Rose’s Thorn sequestered himself in the basement fighter’s room and got to surveying the gear he brought with him for the duel. Soon enough it’d be time- and he could tell by the already growing crowd above.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:07:50 GMT -8
Zenna arrived looking every inch the noble lady. She wore a fashionable small brimmed hat at a jaunty angle and a purple brocade gown with a playful, black lace butterfly pattern across the corseted bodice and slit-sided skirt. Black hose and matching black lace garter peeked through those slits, granting tempting glimpses of long, shapely legs. She followed a helpful escort through the crowd towards one of the best tables in the house, just as eye-catching and graceful a distraction as she’d told him she could be. The smile she thanked the escort with was perhaps a little too bright, the poor lad leaving with a somewhat dazed expression on his face. The fight hadn’t begun and already she was having fun. Determined to enjoy every moment, she turned slightly sideways in the chair and demurely crossed her legs, either not noticing the way the slit left her leg exposed to the thigh or not caring. It wasn’t entirely easy to figure out which. After ordering a drink and placing her bet, she settled in and indulged in people watching until the real show began.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:08:57 GMT -8
Aldori duels are intriguing things. They are often bloody, as it’s difficult to pull shots from an edged weapon and armor is expressly forbidden in the tradition of such a thing. Instead, each man wears a linen set of clothing always in light colors to better show the blood. The cloth is thin and light, to simulate a kind of unencumbrance. The rules are simple. The first one to score wounds in any three vital areas is the winner. No points- not rounds. A simple continuous fight known as a fluid contest. The rules weren’t hardly as strong a barrier of entry than the intense focus it took to protect your vitals while striking out for time. You couldn’t depend on tiring out your opponent, they were just as unencumbered as you- the sword sharp enough that swinging hard didn’t ensure shit.
The duels between Aldori tended to be swift affairs but that didn’t mean short. The first clash was often the least exciting, the risk to being wounded far too sure a thing to lead too wildly, or allow any opening to end the fight too quickly. The Aldori had very few rules beyond the pace, in fact the use of hands, feet was not entirely frowned upon, but considered rather boring if not applied with skill and in support of further strikes with the blade.
When the fighters emerged, it was an interesting sight. Each man was barefoot- freshly bathed, dressed in a tunic that wasn’t entirely snug nor loose, but carefully fitted for easy movement and the illusion of excess linen. It gave them each an ‘exotic look’ one that Jack did not look entirely out of place in save for the shade of his skin compared to Alaro. Both fighters shook hands in the common fashion before taking six paces from the center as Eduardo the master of ceremonies let out a low deep roar, “Let’s begin gentlemen! I warn the crowd to mind your belongings- we’ll no doubt see blood on our tables tonight!”
The vulgarity aside, the two fighters approached each other with a deliberate pace, Alaro with a high stance, using his height at the full,while Jack had a lower stance, his left leg forward and his right slipped back.
The first clash of steel was Alaro’s as he struck with a one handed slash aimed to clear the space, his arm already pulling back for the next swing as Jack slid to the left to avoid it by hairs. Another swing, another swing, another swing- three thrown in quick succession, all but the last avoided while the last parried low at Jack’s own sword where the hand guard could lock easily at the middle of Alaro’s blade.
The crowd responded with applause- such a flurry was like drum beats meant to whip the crowd into a frenzy, a flurry repeated again as Alaro tried the other side, alternating attacks only to find that he couldn’t touch this man. He had thought idly that this *Mercer* was just a rapier thrusting duelist… he was surprised that he had a mastered Raulian defense. To the trained eye it was an impressive display showing a well rounded fighter who treated it like art. To the bloodthirsty crowd it was anticipation, it was the urgency, the inevitability that someone would bleed and this man prolonged the fight with ease.
Jack’s poise was cool, professional- and at the last lock of blades he smiled. “Your balance is impeccable. Three strikes at a time…” he said aloud, something only the lower seats (like Zenna) and the opponent could hear. “That’s easily proof of a very developed core style.”
Alaro didn’t seem inclined to talk, his reputation over the last two weeks on the line, but he let his opponent take a step back, let them reset themselves. He needed the breather to think. Who was this bastard?
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:09:28 GMT -8
She sat up straighter as the two fighters took the field. Jack looked…she smiled slowly...yummy. Fierce, masculine, confident. A wistful sigh escaped her as she rested an elbow on the table. Could she get Hands to introduce her to his friend? The guy who owned this place had an admirable business sense, the whole thing was masterfully planned production. The arena was a stage, the fighters the actors, and the swords expertly wielded props. A few minutes into the fight she changed her opinion - Jack wasn’t an actor, he was the real deal and the Aldori reduced to a plaything subject to his whim. Not that his opponent wasn’t good, even she could tell the bigger man knew what he was doing. But Hands moved like a dancer, aware of his whole body and in perfect control of where it went and how. He was an artist. She wasn’t the only one who laughed after overhearing his “compliment” for his opponent, but she wasn’t really aware of the rest of the crowd. Utterly engrossed in the performance in front of her, the chink of clashing metal and shuffle of their clothes and footsteps made the music, their parries and attacks became dancing, and she found herself watching Jack’s body instead of the blades. Unwittingly, she swayed when he did, moved as if mirroring his movements but in a far lesser form. She was learning his dance, in a way, and her admiration for the man grew to almost frightening levels.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:10:58 GMT -8
Her laughter cost him. Alaro got angry at the crowd’s disrespect and instead of getting too mad, he got even. He threw his foot out after a long inside step causing Jack to lose some balance on the collision. He had to drop out of preferable position, almost kneeling on his right side to bring the blade up in time at Alaro’s follow through slash. It was hard, over the shoulder and more difficult to parry with out losing posture. Jack had to think fast.
He gave in at his defense and Alaro made him pay by slashing a surprisingly shallow cut at Jack’s left forearm and tried to bully his way over the opponent. Jack pivoted in his kneeling position with a speed that looked almost like a dancer’s spin, the smooth floor beneath them of worn wood assisting in the motion. He was to the side for an instant, then behind as he rose- Alaro tried to wheel around to match him but it was over before he did. Jack drug his blade from an inch above the ankle and all the way up the side of the calf, with expert deftness “Hands” lived up to his name sake, in the same fluid cut he skipped the knee and went up the back of Alaro’s thigh. Crimson flowed freely, enough that it threatened to make some uncomfortable.
The discomfort drove the crowd mad. They almost ignored that Jack had been cut at all As Alaro tried to wheel to turn and did so slower with his sudden impairment, bending at the knee but still standing, trying to figure out how he’d move in without exposing himself. The first vital blow went to Jack. A crimson flag planted in front of the door he had come from. Eduardo went absolutely crazy. The surge of adrenaline faded for both competitors, the next exchange would be far more serious.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 18:12:04 GMT -8
Zenna was sitting on the edge of her seat, hooting and clapping with a lot of others who bet against the odds. The whole thing was extremely impressive and she was enjoying herself more than she imagined - and she’d imagined *a lot* of enjoyment. “Yay, Hands!” she called out, beaming as the two fighters got a chance to catch their breath. The slash of red across his forearm was a shocking contrast against the white, but not as impactful as the wound on the Aldori’s leg. From this distance she couldn’t tell how deep it was, if the slice hampered his movement she couldn’t tell. “Enjoying yourself, m’lady?” a cultured voice asked, momentarily distracting her from the fight. She looked up in surprise to find a slender red headed man grinning down at her. He had curls and freckles and sharp green eyes that reminded her of jackal. Were jackals eyes even green? She had no idea, couldn’t even place what it was about the man that brought the savannah scavenger to mind but there was no erasing the connection now that it had been made. “I am, yes,” she answered politely. “Here alone?” he asked, pointedly looking around, feigning expectation of finding some bloke hurrying back to her table after taking a piss. Her eyes narrowed. What was this one’s game? “Not exactly.” The hype man was back in action, saved by the golden voice. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” she said, giving the jackal a tight smile before deliberately turning away, her focus back on the fight where it belonged.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 7, 2017 18:30:00 GMT -8
Jack tried to focus simply on the next exchange, to plan an assault instead of adapt into one. Her cheer made it a little more difficult, but her visitor only made it a little more difficult. He kept his eyes close to his opponent, trying not to take in too much of the crowd. He needed to focus. Alaro might’ve been injured, but he was a threat until the match was won. The wound he had delivered and sliced some muscle, and purposely knicked enough nerves to cause the leg to struggle to respond. Alaro noticed the precision, Jack could tell that. His anger had turned to steely resolve.
Jack gave credit to Feathers’ legs. Perhaps the laughter wouldn’t of hurt Alaro’s pride quite that much without it coming from such a desirable woman. The Aldori were often larger men, just like Alaro- well muscled but quick- they lived lives among the cold and unforgiving north. Women there we barely respected as more than property, but they were cherished as such as well. To see one so fetching and alone was a distraction. Jack hadn’t been kidding. She was an advantage to be had.
When natural jealousy piqued, she could be a liability. He edged the sight out for a moment, shifting his stance to that they were out of the periphial as Alaro edged forward, more draging his leg than moving it. Jack was wise to prepare.
Alaro used the form the Swordlords of Aldoranth called the Relentless Tide- it was a fanciful word for a brutal manuever, low slashes coming up at rough angles using strength from the core and leverage all the way up to the shoulders to fuel them, the sword strikes came in waves, rising then falling against any defense. The up and down combination made it harder to parry, and the linear attack changed direction often on the up and down swings. This form was often used to devastating effect against defensive fighters leaving openings to the stomach, but only at the risk of being hit by the downswing.
The first few strikes Jack parried only to find the man still advancing more or less on one foot. It was utterly impressive how dedicated Alaro was, how committed. Jack would keep that in mind- but after four or five transitions bringing the crowd to a fever pitch, Jack used an Arenian counter to end this so called Relentless Tide. It was a Raulian move, used often by the knife and cutlass fighters along the warm sea.
The instep to the opposite shoulder of the manuever and a pommel strike or off hand strike to the sternum. It was performed so quickly it almost looked like Jack would be struck by both the upward slash which missed by a hair, literally ruffling his sleeve- and would’ve been hit by the downward slash had the pommel of his dueling blade not been driven hard into the man’s sternum like one would stake a vampire.
It caused the power to drop from his swing, his form to fall back on his injured leg, and the staking motion Jack used to strike him turned into a flourish that put the razor sharp blade in against the top of Alaro’s presented shoulder from his loss of balance. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it cut across where tendon and muscle fueled the arm’s rotary movements in the socket. Jack could of appealed to the crowd- but tonight he felt he’d done this as long as he needed.
Alaro kept held to his sword however weakly, and his other arm sought to fight the pain at his shoulder and try to shoot in like a grappler on Jack’s opposing side. It was a bold move. It ended poorly, his head was dropped in perfect position to go in the crook of Jack’s reach, the underhook of his arm cinching at the man’s neck and stopping him cold in his charge- wtih a pivot and a flex of the hip he send Alaro to the ground rolling to his back.. When the Aldori went to struggle to get up he did so with the edge of his kingdom’s favored sword right above his nose where he could smell the copper of his blood already shed.
The crowd couldn’t contain themselves- they had gasped at Alaro’s daring grapple attempt and marveled at how the smaller man (but in no way small) hurled the man to the floor with such force it brought a resounding thud. Some gasped, some shouted, others cheered, and some cursed having lost no small amount of coin. Eduardo couldn’t be contained.
“There you have it! Mercer wins! The Pride of Izmanth!!” Jack frowned for a moment in Eduardo’s direction, but the hype man had no intention not using some kind of fanciful name. Jack personally hated it. It was a fruitless honorific, no doubt planted by Jonathan. All the same- he put his sense of humility or rather perspective away, raised his bloody saber and enjoyed a moment of hard earned glory.
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Initiate
gender: Female
status: offline
Alias: White Rose
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
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Post by Zenna on Jun 7, 2017 22:03:52 GMT -8
Zenna - Today at 9:52 PM She didn't realize what the jackal's game was until it didn't really matter anymore. He stood too close behind and a little to her left, far too close than any stranger had a right to be. A glance into the reflection of her untouched wine glass showed him to be actually gripping the back of her chair, she wouldn't have noticed since she was sitting so far up in her seat.
That son of a...
It was a clever ruse, likely done for the same reason Hands told her to show off her legs. Someone betting on the Aldori had likely caught wind of Mercer reserving this table. It would have painted her as someone special to him. Hell, she almost admired the move, even planned to remember it in case the opportunity came round where she could use the trick herself.
That didn't mean it was going to go unpunished...
For the rest of the crowd she played oblivious, genuinely enthralled by Hands' skill and the excitement of numerous close calls before his expected victory at the end. That's when she struck, throwing an elbow back into the jackal's crotch as she let out a whoop and when the man doubled over in agony, she spoke just loud enough he would hear her above all the noise, "I'm not just any bird, scavenger. Try using me for your advantage again and next time I'll use the dagger in my corset instead of my elbow." She spoke calmly, never looking back at him as she rose to her feet and stepped to the railing to beam down at Jack below.
HopelessWanderer - Today at 10:08 PM The rail in between the tables and the aisle was slight, the elevation less. As she beamed down he looked in her direction, and as if in impression gave her a special wink. No one would notice it, unlike her own at the Lifted Skirt- but it was repaid all the same. Then a quiet nod of appreciation at her dispatching the distraction. These were petty mind games compared to what he was used to.
After the adoration of the crowd reached boiling (along with the tempers of those who lost) he turned and went back whist he came, and the young escorting server came for Zenna if she were interested. " Mercer said you were welcome to join him down below, Miss er.. Feathers? Your winnings are going to be collected and delivered down there as well.. if you wish. Away from the others..."
A man with an iron shod club had ambled over, picked up the jackle and seemed to be dragging him towards the back door, pointedly not the front- the escort didn't seem too bothered by it and was happy simply staring at the woman he had been told to escort.
Zenna - Today at 10:22 PM She laughed softly at the wink, her smile a bit bright for the escort but she was too happy to hold all that in. Hands had won, he'd given this guy her special nickname, and she'd just more than doubled her bet. Without a glance given to the ass who had tried to ruin all her fun, she graciously took the escort's offered arm and let him smoothly guide her away from the chaos into the welcome comparable quiet of the rooms below.
She chatted up the escort, learning that his name was also Jack and his last name something unpronounceable with far too many vowels. She dubbed him Rabbit since he was very pale except for a strangely pink nose, he didn't seem to mind. Rabbit safely delivered her to a thick wooden door with iron hinges and some suspicious pale places along the front edge that made her wonder just how long ago they'd removed the locks.
Rabbit gallantly opened it up, brought her inside, and then gave her an awkward sweeping bow - likely the first one he'd ever attempted.
"That was quite a wink, Hands" she practically purred, stepping forward towards the victorious fighter, her eyes raking over him with open admiration as she assessed the damages. "Quite a show of vigor, too."
Jack Mercer - Today at 10:30 PM "He was better than I had hoped for. The Aldori generally don't send good duelists abroad. Bad form to lose good warriors." he said to her as she came in to his dressing room for lack of a better word. His gear was spread meticulously on a table. Whetstone and other accouterments in one place, his personal effects in another. He had already taken off the soaked linen, it had been put in a wooden bin being eyed by a washer woman known to get blood out of anything.
His bare chest was a sight to see, surprisingly tanned unsurprisingly toned. His core carried little fat if any, abdominal muscles where much of his power came from taut from exertion. He was sitting in a chair with a reclined back, his arm on the rest being seen too by a young healer whose eyes kept to his work making sure the wound was clean. He didn't have a needle and thread, but instead a poultice he'd administer to speed the healing. Such herbal remedies elsewhere scarcely helped- but in Tyran where magic was so pervasive, Jack wouldn't even have a scar.
Alaro on the other side of the basement level was being seen to by similar aid- he was far more thankful for it now than his last battle.
" I'm really happy you enjoyed it. I didn't know if you'd like the kind of things I'm good at, as much as I like your endeavors." he said with a sly grin. "That said- it looks like I wasn't the only one who fell their opponent tonight."
Damn she looked beautiful. Most sell-swords couldn't appreciate this kind of fashion. Jack did. He knew the cost, the cut, the time- it took. Angelique had made sure of that. No, he knew that appearing like that while fun for her, empowering just as it was for him to put on his fighting gear- was a service. It was gift given, thought out before she left her apartment. He didn't do anything so trite as to comment, but his gaze- up and down her form- showed his appreciation and his recognition.
Zenna - Today at 10:41 PM What woman didn't like to be so openly admired? She appreciated more that he'd admired her actions first and her appearance second. The world was full of beautiful women, but intelligence was a rare trait and she was very proud of hers. She curled up her nose thinking about the jackal, "I won using dirty tricks, you were positively brilliant. I'd love to see what you could do in a ballroom...with me, of course. I far enjoy being part of the action than observing it. Not that I'm complaining, you may have just bought me a shop." She adopted a prim, airy tone. "I suppose I owe you a thank you."
The door opened and three very large, very imposing giants (she was convinced they were half bloods at least) filed in carrying small-boxes in their meaty arms. She couldn't hide the shock on her face, then grinned in realization. She turned back to Hands and arched a brow. "I'm not the only one collecting a future tonight, am I? Bet on yourself?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 10:49 PM "You should always bet on yourself Feathers. But I think you already know that." he said after the poultice was applied and the soaked bandage was put on. The dry compress was wrapped to seal it in, and within an hour he'd be right as rain. Knowing that, he ignored the wound- drawing from a reservoir he'd mastered during his early adventuring days. He used to use this Second Wind, to fight giants, dodge spells, and weave in an out of grand melees. Now he used it to keep up with beautiful women.
He was obviously doing life right.
He chuckled as the men brought in the gold. "Yeah, I put it on me. Not as much as some- didn't want to create a bet the house couldn't pay off. The gambling here is managed by someone other than Jonathan. He doesn't like it. Gets too violent. He just helps make it happen. Pretty sure your escort did a good job betting too." Rabbit nodded sheepishly.
"Just put the chests down, we'll clear em out." He assured them as he came up behind Feathers, his hand reaching out to secure her at the waist, tugging her backwards towards him. "Where do you need to get all that?" he said low in her ear, others dismissing themselves from the room at the sudden intimacy, and a wave of Jack's other hand towards the exit.
Zenna - Today at 11:05 PM Her breath caught at his touch and a flush added a rosy hue to her light olive complexion. Just like that they were alone. She became hyper aware of everywhere their bodies touched, she felt his warmth, his strength. Unwittingly she leaned into him, needing to increase contact, and a barely-audible gasp parted her lips. Gods above she wanted this man. Genuinely, truly -wanted- him. Not just to please him, make him happy, return a favor, or anything she'd experienced in the past. If she was a lesser willed woman this would have been frightening.
But Zenna didn't fear new experiences. She thrived on them.
Quite deliberately she turned her face a quarter inch to the right and up two degrees. His breath stirred the white stands curling above her ear and warmed the side of her neck. She didn't try to hide the husky tone of her voice. "I use the Merchant Bank on Stone Street in the market district. I have an account there under Zenna Whiterose." Her fingertips grazed the back of his hand splayed across her middle. "And just where do you hide your treasures...Jack?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:13 PM "If you must know, Jonathan has a safe I keep some gear in..." he found himself replying with a quiet he didn't intend. Things were very...warm all of the sudden. He had just meant to still her before she dived among the gold. It had him feeling just like last night, but without half the trepidation. His lips were so close.. so perfectly close to that skin. Skin he wanted to taste the salt of...
"I was needing such a place though. I hadn't thought of where to bank as far as my gold is concerned. I'll have to take it there tomorrow, until then...I can help you move it." he offered, letting go of the fabric he had seized and reaching for a simple satchel with a weathered strap for the shoulder. "I found this with my first party, the closet of some would be necromancer. Lord of Bones he called himself. Idiotic."
His words cut not disdain but dismissal of the old memory, as he opened the flap of the bag and began scooping his gold into it- using the bag almost like a bucket to gather any loose coin from the stacks within. No matter how many coins he put in, the bag seemed roughly the same weight, the same size. "They call it a bag of holding. A real life saver..." He trailed off, having knelt at the chests of gold. "Keep your winning ledger. We'll need it when we make our deposits." He didn't deflect the earlier moment, he just postponed it. There would be time...he hoped.
Zenna - Today at 11:23 PM She shivered at the loss of his warmth, feeling both hot and cold and wanting nothing more than to plaster herself back up against him. But there was coin to tend to. He wasn't the only one who could prioritize and postpone. Putting practicality out of her jaunty little hat, she stepped forward, hesitating at crouching down while wearing a corset. Not that she couldn't do it, but it wasn't a maneuver she was overly fond of. "Can just anybody get into it or is the bag magically keyed to you in some way?" she asked, genuinely curious. "I don't have a magic-gizmo of any kind so we'll have to resort to carrying mine the old fashioned way. Or do you think Jonathan would lend me some space in his safe until I can arrange for a guarded transfer with the bank tomorrow?"
While reluctant to crouch she wasn't opposed to bending over, especially given his convenient kneeling position. All it would take was a single glance back in her direction and... Well, the corset was tight, she'd been blessed with a generous bosom, and he was a man with a lot of fire still coursing through his blood from the fight. Wasn't a Journi woman alive who would turn down such an opportunity.
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:29 PM He turned and did what anyone should. He stared. "Well uhm...I could put it in the bag. It's not magically bound or anything, but the two of us should be able to guard it until morning. Besides, armed escorts bring attention. Attention you shouldn't be looking for. All these new people has the thieves in town looking for marks." He said surprisingly able to string words together even though he was still looking only less obviously once he looked to her face fully.
His tongue pressed against his bottom lip to moisten it as he rose to his feet while she answered. They needed to get out of here. Like...now. "If you'd feel better, you can even carry it- though it clashes with that dress of yours." he said with a smile. "It really does-- you really..you look beautiful- I'm not sure I would've of recognized you if I didn't know you're coming. The hat was nice touch...I kind of miss the feathers though.." he said as he placed the bag next to her chests and took a step towards her- reaching around her for the clay cup of water that had been prepared earlier.
Zenna - Today at 11:41 PM He looked. It was a small victory that put a satisfied grin on her face when he finally looked up from her cleavage. "Thank...you." That hesitation happened while his hand reached for the cup. So close but so far away, she was trembling. Trying to hide her heated state she casually clasped her hands at her waist. Ruined the pose with a nervous gulp. Nervous? She was nervous?! She hadn't been nervous since her first time on stage, and that was when she was three.
Now what to do about those coins? Free spirited she might be but Zenna took wealth very seriously. She hadn't been kidding when she said he likely bought her shop. She also knew you couldn't trust just anybody with your money. People were inherently greedy, it was part and parcel of surviving. She liked Jack, wanted him... But did she trust him enough to let him hold her future? The answer was surprisingly quick and simple - Yes. The emotion in her eyes was likely difficult to decipher, and she didn't offer any explanation.
"You can carry it." Her voice dropped, heavy with invitation. "You can carry it all the way to my place...unless you were planning to take me back to yours?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:46 PM A moment without pretense arrived. "You would not fit to grace my hovel. Not yet. I'm working on a place starting tomorrow. I've got the gold to secure it, and the time to work on it. If you want- I'll take you there before anyone else sees the finished project." he said earnestly. He had learned victories were better shared. Her fierce independence set aside surprised him. Flattered him. He liked her. He knew he wanted her. He knew she was remarkable. But it was that moment of trust followed by flirtation that earned his full esteem.
He knew how important trust could be. He had been wounded by the lack of it more than once. "That all to say- I was hoping I'd get an invitation." he said with a smile as he knelt back down in front of her and began to load the bag. "You know, if I ever find another one- I advise you buy it from me." he said referring to the bag, anything to keep them moving. He was moving quickly in loading it, his haste to get out of there apparent when he nodded towards the table. "The haversack on the side of the bench, you can pack those things in however you please, just hand me my shirt and we'll be off. "
He had already gotten out of the linen pants and into breeches, already into boots. He must've been hell for the healer to deal with.
Jack Mercer - Today at 11:48 PM If he kept a quick pace, they'd be there in ten minutes. She could walk in that thing right?
Zenna - Today at 11:57 PM Oh, she could run in that thing if the situation called for it. She spun around and began jamming things into the haversack without rhyme or reason. A bandage might have got included, she didn't know or care. That moment with her back to him allowed her to feel it all without worrying about freaking the guy out. He spoke of her with respect, like he saw her as a lady and not a...not as anything less. It validated the trust her gut said he was worthy of. He was a special sort.
Having no idea what she'd just put in the bag, she secured it and then spun around with little evidence of her turbulent emotions besides faintly over-wide eyes and a heavy blush. She didn't hand the bag to him, she was perfectly capable of carrying it herself and he had enough to juggle already. "Anything else I should grab?" she asked, voice gone breathy and pulse thundering in her ears. Her eyes met his and she forgot to breathe entirely. "...Hands?"
Jack Mercer - Today at 12:04 AM By the time she turned he was standing with three empty chests , magic bag, his shirt on and a smile as he indicated the door. "Come.." came the request- firmer than that. An insistence. He moved towards her to brush past, but stopped mid stride his head canted to the right, and craned forward to look at her. He was lost there- just for a moment. It was early still. They barely knew anything about each other. But she was something he had found that just months prior he had thought he would never return to. Long shadows broke. So did his resolve. " We have everything we need." he said in reply to her question, his eyes meeting her own expressive gaze.
His arm snaked around her waist, claiming her for that moment. Just that moment. Just to see how it would feel. He could not leave her side without the taste of her lips, stolen in sudden affection- the kiss brief before he tore himself away to lead them out of the basement, only to let her take point out of the place entirely- down a concealed hall to the side exit. He didn't stop for conversation, hellos or goodbyes. He needed her home. Away from prying eyes. Away from anything that'd make either one of them share attention.
Zenna - Today at 12:16 AM She was in as big of a rush as he was, near jogging as she led them out of the building and out into the streets. The night air was cool in comparison, refreshing, not powerful enough to clear the haze of lust clouding rational thought. Zenna didn't care about rational thought, it was in spontaneous, emotion-heavy moments like this that she lived for. Her shoes clacked against the cobblestone, a rapid rat-tat-tat that matched the wild flutter of her pulse. She couldn't look at him. If his eyes still held that knowing darkness she was going to drag him into the next alley and show him just exactly what she was capable of in that corset.
It didn't take ten minutes to reach her apartment. It took seven. She took the steps two at a time, reaching into her corset to retrieve the key from the hidden pocket in her cleavage. Unlock the door, push it open. Her shallow, breathy pants accompanied the slow creak of the hinges. She turned around to face him, reaching up to pull out the hat pins securing the hat to her curls as she took a slow, deliberate step over the threshold inside.
Jack Mercer - Today at 12:23 AM Tonight, he didn't pull away. He didn't hesitate at the threshold. He followed her in, dropped the wealth over a nearby chair and with his heel kicked the door behind him shut all in one hurried motion. His pulse raced, his blood grew hotter than it ever did in the fight with Alaro. "You've been a fever for me. Ever night...you've had me at your mercy." he said in an earnestness that did not sound particularly romantic, not contrived. It was simply a confession. A gift- emotion without pretense. It was obviously something he admired. Something he insisted he live by.
Jack hated fake. He hated cynicism. He'd been taught better, by a paladin no less. He unbuttoned his shirt at the chest so he could pull it over his chest, but he didn't. Instead he pursued her across the room. "I doubt tonight will make that any better tomorrow night. But at least for tonight, you'll not haunt me. "
He didn't know her story, how she tamed a warrior, or any of that. But he wouldn't doubt the verity of it if it was told to him. She had gotten under his skin. He wasn't sure he wanted to get her out.
Zenna - Today at 12:35 AM The hat was spin-tossed across the room and she shook out her hair, reaching back to loosen the strings of her corset and walking backwards towards the open bedroom door. Her eyes never left his, she couldn't look away. Her shoes were kicked off. Another back step. The corseted bodice bounced off the dresser and fell with a whispered rush to the floor. "Only ghosts can haunt you," she said softly. Fingers went to the button inside the waistline of her skirt. Fabric fell down her legs and pooled around her feet. She deftly stepped free of it. Took another step back, keeping just out of reach, exposing more and more of her body with every abandoned scrap of clothing. Black hose and lacy garters rustled, toned thighs rubbing together as she retreated one more step. The back of her calf hit the bed rail.
"I'm not a ghost, Hands. Touch, you'll discover I am very...very real..."
Jack Mercer - Today at 12:47 AM He drew a long steadying breath. No doubt she was real. That was the bloody problem. His approach was slow, and he shed his shirt on the way- the frame of her figure accentuated by the stockings and garters, a point of pride he imagined. Half of anything was presentation. He'd learned that early in life too. He admired the bed, perhaps because he hadn't seen a good one in a while. "Thank you, Zenna." he said her name intentionally...not wishing to cling to close to nicknames based on her life as the fantasy of most men inhabiting the East District.
"It was good having you there tonight...better having you here. " he reached her, his left hand reaching to cup her cheek, the pads of fingers rough from combat, but not so rough as to feel brutish. They slid across her temple and to the crown of her head, buried in the dark curls recently shaken free.
They were adults. The did not need to trade compliments before such a thing, instead- he gave her the kind of gratitude people should show more often. She was a friend now. Not an acquaintance of conquest. His right arm once more snaked around her waist, his palm and digits smoothly running up the small of her back to the middle of her spine. He didn't waste the moment with more words. He sought her lips, and without fanfare finally sealed the affection that had been building- making the earlier kiss seem like a mere peck in comparison. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of potential, of something neither one of them would say- but perhaps something even he could not deny forever, nor postpone for perfect moments.
As bodies crushed against each other in passionate embrace, one thing was certain. It had been worth the wait. |
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welcome
Tyrannights is a free-form play by post RPG with a medieval fantasy setting. It was formed in 1997 by Shawn and Doreen with many different owners and versions over the years. Its current version is Tyran: Tales of Legends owned by Sinead and Laelia.
Tales of Legends is world and character building focused with and original setting. There are no forced character aps or registration, so come stay in Wendy's Tavern for a drink. Have you character serve one of two Tyran gods. Rule a city of your own, or serve Tyran's Queen. There are limitless possibilities for your character's story... so what are you waiting for?
Tyran is PG 13 and LGBT friendly.
site updates (dd/mm/yy)
13/11/18 - THERE ARE NEW GODS! please check out the temple folders for more details!
29/11/18 - Both temples have staff positions open for those interested in joining the temples
29/11/18 - We are currently editing our achievements and adding more! Please be patient as we fix this.
current events
TBA
Time: Ongoing
Where: TBA
Host: TBA
staff
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Amika
x_Tempest_D
SW_Hotaru_SD
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(Username may varry)
Joshua
Shelzi
Storyteller/Trent
Wulv
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credits
Tyrannights/VampPub was originally created by Shawn and Doreen. Tyran: Tales of Legends remake is currently owned by Sinead and Laelia Content is copyrighted to Tyran unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney.
Banner Image was created by Karnage82.
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