Fantasy Dalet: into the city of lies and deciet (still open and accepting)

[BackSet]

The country of Dalet is nothing like the country of Lamed. Unlike the desert found in Lamed, Dalet's desert takes up most of the country. There are only two other biomes in Dalet: a snowy mountain region and a small rainforest. The biggest difference between Lamed and Dalet, however, is not the land. Its the people. Dalet is a lawless land. There are no kings or other such political leaders. Only the robber barons, kings of criminal empires. They may use puppet rulers on occasion but everyone knows its really them who control the various cities in the country. One of the most well known cities in Dalet is Malius, capital of the biggest criminal empire in the country, The pytharian empire. It's a capital only in the sense that the Robber Baron of the Pytharian empire, Pythus, lives there. Malius is a city of treachery and lies. Where thieves have free reign and the only law is that of Pythus. Not that he cares much what goes on in the city so long as noone tries to mess with him and his various thieves. He's much more concerned with the fares of the other cities he controls. You have found yourself here in Malius. Now you must survive.

 

[Xio]

Hard light beat down against the high dunes in the distance, making the sand gleam like gold. Fiery shapes danced across the shifting grains, rising up to meet with the heavens. From here to the horizon was nothing but hot desert; foerce and unwelcoming to outsiders, but to those who knew her never without life. A twisting wind picked up, swirling the sediment into a dervish. The dry ocean fell around it as the dancing heat waves broke apart to let this new element through. The air howled in laughter as it rode through the desert. Around it spun, sending sparkling grains flying. And then, just as suddenly as it had been a, the wind died. The sand dropped and was silent once more, and soon the heat began to rise from it again. But the desert was forever changed; one gust had altered it in a way no other wind would ever be able to. And soon another wind would blow, and everything would change again. The old wind would be nothing more than a memory, buried beneath a thousand gusts.

What words could capture such marvel? It was hopeful, but sad. Mournful, and yet for a brief moment so full of life. Elif bit her lip, idly strumming at her oud in thought. Was it like a dancer? Sure it moved and sung, but would anyone appreciate that? Most people didn't dance. A builder then? No, she was sure most builders wouldn't appreciate being compared to the wind they so desperately tried to keep out. Elif groaned and stood up from the stone fence. She wasn't going to figure it out sitting here. A body in motion was a mind in motion. Still plucking at the strings of her instrument she turned back to the great walled city behind her; Malius.

One last look at the desert was just what she needed before entering the capital. The Stark contrast would make the experience all the better, like bread before wine. If she had ever had wine. She should try some... No, after she actually makes some money. The path leading to the gate was filled with merchants and camels, both laden with silks and gold and food and drink. Some wore lavish dress that Elif had only seen nobles wear, while others seemed worse off than she was. A few more wore clothing the likes of which she had never seen; all white fabrics, thick cloth of hide and fur, woven yarns more like a blanket than a shirt. Even outside the gates, Malius was a city of wonder.

Which wasn't to say wonders couldn't kill. Elif was no fool. Half of these men had probably killed before, and half of those had been smiling as they did it. This was a city of have and have nots. Gold, morals, honor, lives, all of it could be traded if you had the right price and knew the right people. Here robbers were Kings and heroes were beggers. The only good you could never find here was hope. And that was exactly why Elif had to come here. She could avoid this city like the place of sin that it was; she could easily make her coin in another town or another country. But this was her home, and if she did nothing she was just part of the problem. She might not be able to do much, of course. And whatever she did do might be so small that in the long run wouldn't change the city's course. But, hopefully she could be just one of those winds that blew the people back in the right direction. And if she was lucky, others would follow soon after.

But before that she was starving! It wasn't a short trek from the last town here, and Elif had lacked the foresight to bring any food with her. Clutching her oud and mindful of thieves, she wove her way through the tide of merchants towards the city gates.

 

[Abendrot]

Athra'a vado, this was a child he was operating on. And a small one at that, clearly the result of malnutrition. Tosahn was certain this boy was far smaller than he should be for his age. He knew life for the common person in Malius was difficult at best and dangerous at worst, but this was the first time a boy this young came to his clinic with a crossbow's quarrel in his leg. It would not be a pleasant process for anyone, removing a bolt this size. Even magical healing might not be able to fix everything if it had struck the wrong place, scraped the bone, bent the head like a fishhook inside him. And it was still in his leg.

"I-It was just a loaf of bread," the boy sniffed, making an admirable effort at holding back tears. Tosahn's festering rage was not directed at him, nor his father, who watched fearfully as he cut the shaft. How could he be angry at them for trying to survive in the only way they could? He fought to keep a reassuring smile on his face, even as his heart urged him to act. To seek out and exact justice on the thug who would do such a thing to a child. Tosahn gave the boy a leather strip wrapped with soaked leaves of mandrake to bite down on as he began. One hand went about the gruesome task of pushing the quarrel out of the leg, while the other threaded white wisps of magic into the wound, feeling for damage. As the quarrel came free, he let the magic do the work of knitting the flesh together. All the while, the boy bravely tried to restrain his screams of pain.

With the wound mended and bandaged, it was now the body's job to do the rest of the healing. Tosahn sent them away, though not without quietly handing them a parcel of clean bandages, some flatbread an goat's cheese that had been brought to him by another patient this morning, and a few coins to help them last until the boy was fully healed. Today's assistant -- one of the neighbor's older sons -- helped him clean off the table so Tosahn could be ready for the next patient to walk in. Spirits, he needed some water. Perhaps tea. It seemed his mana was depleting quicker with each surgery, but the work he was doing gave himself enough satisfaction that he was doing something.

 

[Lincs]

Zofweni
​

"You have none," she rasped slowly. The Anarati dialect was considered off-putting to most of the softskinned races, she knew. She had to be gentle with them, much like any newborn pup learning sums. Weni had been prepared for this.

She had not been prepared for the lengths those in this city would go to swindle one out of one's money.

"No ointments for the... lizardfolk?" She tilted her head slightly as the doddering old one launched into yet another speech about his wide variety of elixirs, philters, and cure-all potions. Learned the recipes from the higher-ups in the Empire, you know. Oh, the finest ingredients, shipped from the far corners of the world! And yet, for all his apparent wares, the self-proclaimed alchemist lacked even the most basic of treatments for the kind of illness her dear father was suffering. It clamps the insides, like windingscale. But it bleeds the skin...

Oh, father. Hold on a little longer, please.

Her people took pride in their love of riches and treasures, of course. But the acquisition of riches was a noble pursuit, performed honestly. Brute force was preferable to scams and deceit. Weni flicked her tongue as the man turned back towards her. "I can see you are very talented, sir. I lack coin to make any purchase, but will recommend your waresz to all those I meet. Thank you for your time." Without another word, she turned and strode through the door, grabbing her halberd from where it rested near the entrance.

Her tail thumped the ground contentedly as she made her way through the crowded streets. Yes, she was worried for her father. Deathly afraid, even. Losing him would plunge her world, and everything she had worked for, into chaos. But today was a red day, a day for opportunity. She kept an eye out for any more doctors, potionmakers, or any other type of healer among the shops crowding the streets, feeling her optimism rise once more. In the distance, the city gates of Malius loomed. An ever-growing tide of traders on those strange camel beasts flowed inward, forcing the masses of poor, tired, and hungry to the side. Not even the devastating poverty this city flung into her face could keep her mood down, though it did quicken her pace.

 

[BackSet]

Sakar Dreekon
Dancing for a crowd
​

"WHOOOOSE READY TO PLAY WITH FIRE!!!"

Sakar's call could be heard for a couple of blocks every direction. For many it was a call of joy. A signal that one of the best, and one of the only, entertainment marvels in Malius was about to preform. The crowd cheered as Sakar held up his lit torch, swinging it around. Then, Sakar did something unexpected. He lit himself on fire. The crowd gasped as the torch dropped and sakar burst into flames... Whoch then faded back into his body. A clever trick utilizing Sakar's manipulation of his scale colors. Sakar then proceeded to dance, flip, and spin, amazing the crowd. Sakar loved it almost as much as the crowd di, if not more. Thus was his passion. This was what he did.

(Open for interaction)

 

[Lincs]

Zofweni
​

The princess perked up as a loud shout echoed down the street. Something about... fire? She wondered what could have caused such a thing. She hurried over to the gathering crowd, using her superior stature to shove people aside until she neared the front of the throng. There, a fellow of the lizardfolk spun and danced among the flames. She blinked, shocked. What is he doing? It wasn't until the flames faded briefly that she saw the delight on his features; this was a performance. She watched keenly, her mission temporarily forgotten. This man was not of the Anarat; his scales told her that much. A local, then? Her tail slowly swept the ground behind her as she contemplated their place in the society around them.

The sensation of her purse being lifted free from its slot on her jerkin passed over her like a light gust of wind. She turned, hissing in sudden outrage, and caught the thief with a stare dead in the eyes. A very young male, and human like most everyone else on the streets. What she thought might have been a look of fear flashed onto his face and he plowed through the crowd towards what he no doubt thought would be a clever getaway: the alley directly behind the performer.

Through the flames.

Refusing to be intimidated, she charged after him, running through the small open space the crowd left between themselves and the performer. As he neared the edge of the licking flames she seized the scruff of his neck and twisted into a tackle, crashing right through the edge of the other lizardfolk's impressive display.
___________
BackSet

Desmond
​

The man who was the Golden Bulwark downed another mug of wine.

That was what they used to call him, anyway. Now he was just "Desmond," or "old man." It made no difference to him, at least. He thought he had had enough drink for now, and turned to go. The barkeeps in this part of the city had the good sense to give him his second, and third, and fourth, and so on, drinks for free after the first few 'incidents' with the other bar patrons. Making someone provide you drink for free was quite a feat, in the heart of Malius. He might have found that funny when he was younger and his hair wasn't white, but now he just felt empty. He stumbled out into the sunlight, and set off towards his home. Distantly behind him, he heard heavy footsteps. He kept walking; not wanting to tangle with this sort of thing so close to the bar again.

 

[BackSet]

Sakar Dreekon
Woah.
​

The other lizardfolk crashed onto the stage with the human boy in her grasp. The Torches Sakar had been juggling had been knocked out of his hand and would have spelled disaster for the nearby wooden structures had Sakar not caught them again with expert skill. He quickly extinguished the flames of the Torches and began go wonder what the Liazardfolk was doing here. He silently offered her a hand in order to help her up.

Lincs

 

[Lincs]

Zofweni
​

Weni accepted his hand up without really looking in his direction; her eyes were trained on the young pickpocket as he scurried down the alleyway. "Thank you for your cooperation!" She said brightly, and then gave a quietly sissing laugh as if it were a joke. She discreetly tucked her recaptured purse back into her clothing. She needed that gold, and everything else, for her father's cure. Whatever it takes.
Finally, she turned to look at the performer. "I am sorry I diszrupted your show," she said, her words heavily accented, "it wasz not my intent." She glanced around; the crowd was beginning to disperse. "You performed... beautifully." She seemed unfazed by all the eyes trained on her from the crowd, but nevertheless began backing up to leave. "I will take no more of your time, kinsman."
___________
BackSet

Desmond
​

As soon as he reached a side street, Desmond turned sharply and kept going. Whatever buzz he had gotten from his cups was clearing fast, now. As he quickened his pace, so did the footsteps behind him. He shouldered his way through a crowd and risked a look over his shoulder, only to sigh in resignation when he noticed two young street toughs... by the look of them, boys in one of his former employer's gangs.

"Hey, old man! Ranning says you aren't taking jobs anymore. Says you shriveled up like a dried date." When Desmond stopped suddenly, the two kids circled around to stand in front of him.

Desmond felt a very familiar trickle of anger begin to flow inside of him. "Move," He grated, walking closer to the smaller men. Smaller in a relative sense, anyway. The old bodyguard dwarfed the average man, and was easily head and shoulders above these two, even in his old age.

 

[BackSet]

Sakar Dreekon
"talking" with a fellow lizardfolk
​

Sakar nodded in response to show that all was forgiven. Sakar didn't talk much as information was just another thing you could sell here in Malius. Instead Sakar let his preforming do the talking. Of course, based off of his preformances, the average person could not tell that Sakar was like this as to put on a firedancing show you must be outgoing and boisterous.

Sakar turned back to his stuff and began to pack up. At least he had been able to collect a few coins from before the show. Sakar shrugged his clothes back on. Non-lizardfolk tended to prefer him with clothes on due to their own expectations.

Lincs

 

[Lincs]

Zofweni
​

She suddenly halted and turned back to the other lizardfolk. "Wait," she called, "I need your help."

Walking back towards him, she gestured around the street. "Do you know the location of any healersz, or potionmakersz? What is the word... legitimate onesz, of course."
She hoped he would be able to help her, but his silence made her a bit unsure of herself for the first time. Had she done something to offend him? That happened, from time to time. She couldn't do much to help it.
___________
BackSet

Desmond
​

"Move." He said again, putting some more force behind it. Surprisingly, the thugs weren't intimidated.

"I don't think so, big guy." The smaller one said. He pulled a long dagger from one sleeve. "The boss says you've outlived any use you might have had back in the day. In short, you're a loose end. Sorry it had to-"
Desmond got sick of the monologue by that point. He figured he'd make the first move and end things faster that way. He formed a fist and smashed it into the man's nose, breaking it and sending him reeling backwards. He turned and grabbed the second one by the shirt collar before he could do anything. Forcing his head down, Desmond slammed and elbow into the man's spine, and then threw his limp form straight into the nearest wall. His back arched sickeningly; the poor kid probably wouldn't be able to walk again. Deep inside, Desmond wept. But in the grand scheme of things, this changed nothing.
The shock of being stabbed made his eyes open wide. He looked down at where the smaller thug, face a ruin, had plunged the dagger into his side. Maybe his reflexes were getting slower. He dropped on the man, seizing his head and smashing it into the ground until he was still. He knelt there on top of him for a moment, a trying in vain to catch his breath. His fingers hesitantly probed the wound in his side, the shock numbing the pain as he did so. It hadn't nicked anything important, he thought, but it was... deep. He staggered to his feet, one hand on the wall to steady himself, and searched around for the local clinic.
_________
(open)

 

[BackSet]

Sakar Dreekon
guidance
​

Sakar did indeed know where a healer was. He has been helped many time by a clinic not to far from here. Mostly because he had burned himself. Sakar nodded at the fellow lizardfolk's question. "Follow me." He said, and started walking towards the clinic. Because he had spent al his life in malius, Sakar had a largely human accent. There was a bit of lizardfolk in there though.

Lincs

 

[Lincs]

Zofweni​

Weni nodded in turn and fell into step with him. She turned to the disappointed and murmuring crowd, flicking her tongue in apology... before realizing that that wasn't something humans were capable of doing, and likely understanding the meaning of. She shrugged instead.

She turned back to her companion and kept walking. The silence grew lengthy and, in her opinion, uncomfortable. Weni decided to pressure the other lizardfolk with questions until he opened up more. "Tell me, friend," she said, "what isz your name? I am called Weni by some."

"You've lived here a time long, yesz? It is a strange place, to me. I come from... far away."

"The firessz, they did not burn you. Are you magical? Regardless, you seem to have much of talent...."
___________
BackSet

Desmond
​

He dragged himself along the wall, feeling more sluggish than usual. It wasn't... far...

He finally recognized the doorway of the doctor... Tosahn, wasn't it? He had seen him at his work once or twice, but had never visited. He had heard that the doctor was charitable. That was foolish; in Malius charity often got you killed. Nevertheless he pushed inside, ducking through the doorway as he did.
____________
Abendrot

 

[BackSet]

Sakar Dreekon
Questions and answers
​

Sakar had a simple answer for each question as the walked. That was his thing after all.

"Sakar." he answered for the first.

"Yes." At this, Sakar couldn't help but muse on how strange the place truly was.

"No, I'm not magical. It was nothing but illusions."

They soon reached the clinic. Sakar leaned through the doorway and called out. "Tosahn! I have found someone who would like to see you!"

Sakar knew the doctor from the many times he had come in to deal with burn wounds. Because Sakar was not, contrary to popukar belief, fireproof.

Lincs Abendrot

 

[Abendrot]

Things were rarely quiet in the clinic, and despite his exhaustion, and the insistence from his aides that he rest, Tosahn always used his free time to tidy up. He straightened the cots, collected towels and bandages to be cleaned, alphabetized his herb cabinet, among other things. The clinic was more ramshackle than he would've liked, though at least he could boast that he kept his stock well-maintained.

Behind him, the door opened just enough for an elderly figure to slip though. The sudden noise and action sprang Tosahn to attention, muscles coiled, magic itching at his fingers. His brow furrowed and a concerned frown turned his lips. The man in front of him had seen better days. Much better days. The wounds he could see were fresh, and his breath was labored. If he was evading someone, he'd likely led them straight to his doorstep. Certainly not an unusual intrusion, but one that never pleased him. If this man was in immediate danger, he'd sort out the why and the who later.

"I'll assume that whoever did this to you is not going to burst in behind you?" Tosahn asked.

"Tosahn! I have found someone who would like to see you!" someone asked while the doctor was busy gathering up the tools he would use for the old man. "I don't think this is a good time, Sakar." Tosahn said in reply. "Unless this is urgent, it will have to wait for a few minutes."

Lincs BackSet

 

[Lincs]

Desmond
​

The tiny clinic was a flurry of organized chaos. Desmond, out of habit, surveyed the room as he stepped through the doorway. Even with shock starting to numb him to the world, his expression remained hard and stony. In response to the doctor's inquiry about his assailants, the old man spread one hand, palm up, in a gesture of indifference. "Children are abed," he said cryptically. Still holding his other hand tight to the wound in his side, Desmond dropped the gesture, letting his hand fall to his waist. "I will pay. Gold, whatever you want."

He deserved to die. It would be fitting, even, for him to greet his death this way. Bled for his sins, the street his glorified tomb... but he didn't know how to die yet, it seemed.

Zofweni
​

She stared incredulously into the building, where a large, bleeding human male was apparently blocking the way in. Violence did not perturb her, yet... "Does this happen so often?" she wondered aloud.
___________
Abendrot
BackSet