kevintheradioguy
Salt
A need of money often pushes people to do the craziest things. Some mess with the wrong crowd and can't get away from the new debts; some get into thievery, others - in robbery, and the lucky ones (or unlucky ones, depending on an angle you look at it) become mercenaries. For Sophiana, this need was strange and ironic. Her noble background implied on her having the funds. But she couldn't just waltz into the family's manor and take as much gold as she wanted, especially seeing how it would be spent fighting the said family. Her road of redemption their, - as well as her own, - deeds, was a harsh one, and she was faced with the most banal stumbling rock: she just didn't have the money to do much good. The idea of creating a guild, or a community, was a noble one, and yet, it required some large income. The one she didn't have any longer. Of course, she could sneak or force her way in, however, the chances of succeeding were so low that even if it would be her way, it was stupid to try. Not to mention, trickery or violence was not her way of dealing with matters. Instead of destroying her own bloodline to cleanse the earth from their deeds, she'd much rather help those who needed her. Vengeance was a path to self-destruction, and she knew it. And this help often needed hard coin.
Running out of money, and desperately needing some work, both fair and high-paying, eventually, she stumbled across a messenger. There was some trouble in the scorching deserts of far east, and the mercenary group named "Iron Fist" discretely asked for an outside help. Being a ruthless group, keeping strict order around, they had the coin, and were willing to share... thus, off she went, along a trading route, to the city of Midros, where their barracks stood.
The path to Midros with a trading caravan took much longer than one would expect. Large, muscled bulls, painted and harnessed, obviously knew what they were doing, and dragged themselves slowly along an unseen path through the half-desert; and the caravaners never thought about speeding them up. Jumping down and trotting, even a teenager might have gotten ahead of them, but the problem of Sophiana was of a different matter. First, there was the deal. She guards the caravan while they travel, for a place in a cart and no questions asked. Second, there was the question of water, it being plenty on one of the carts, but not enough around. The sand glowed and glittered as they travelled so much, that the walls of a large, tall, bleached white city weren't noticeable until the evening came, and she realized there was less than an hour of walking to them. As she was saying good-bye to her companions, and was asking her way to the nearest inn, she suddenly realized they never needed her help. Indeed, no wild animal or monstrous creature approached their caravan, and after a while she understood why. The herbal, reeking paint on the bulls she got so accustomed to, was scaring them off. The traders took her in just because they could take her in.
"The Sleepy Solar" was the largest tavern and lodging area in the city, or at least so Sophiana was told. It was filled with travellers and locals at the time she arrived, and when she finally met with the keeper - a big, busty lady in her late fifties, she was met with a small bow and apologetic smile.
"I'm so sorry, fair lady." - She said with a weird, bubbling and croaking accent that made her words barely distinguishable. - "We're all fill' up. Trad'rs, you know. Fly here like bees to th' honey." - She scratcher her chin, - one of two, - before suddenly perking up. - "You know, there is a young lad stayin' here. An elven sort. I remember he was movin' out tonight. God knows what those elves be thinkin', getting' in the middle of the night out on th' street. You can leave your things here, our boys with look after them, and have a walk before it's too dark. We'll clean up and warm you a bath before midnight." - The woman gave her a few suggestions, telling how to get to the temple, and the noble district. The latter, she said, had the most beautiful gardens and tall buildings clad in mosaics. It was a good suggestion, especially since the air was cooling off, and the smell of beer and sweat on the ground floor was unbearable.
It was a nice walk. After the road filled with heat, sun, and sand, the cool, stone streets of Midros were a real bliss for the weathered skin, feeling not unlike cool rain running down the cheeks, as at times it was so hot, it felt like the skin would pop. Nonetheless, as the time went further, and the night became darker, fewer and fewer people came out of their houses, leaving the streets empty, hollow, dead. It was starting to feel as if there were eyes, watching Sophiana from every corner, every rooftop, or sewer grid. An unnerving feeling, that was soon confirmed by a low, growling voice from the alley:
"Wat'cha doin' here, love?"
In the dark, it took her a moment to spot the man who was talking, however, she soon realized he was not talking to her. In the alley across the narrow road she walked, she saw four people with their backs turned to her - tall shadows, looming over a smaller one. They looked rough, and weathered, metal shined in the thin light on the street lamps - they were armed. The largest man, possibly as wide as he was tall, was leaning over the wall, talking to a smaller, hooded figure in front of him.
"Not messing with your business, I assure you, gentlemen." - A deep voice replied. It had its own accent, but not the same as people around here had. Thick, rough, and cutting, against the gurgling and croaking one.
"Is that so?" - The big man mocked. - "And what our business be, then?"
"Nothing the guards would like, I assume." - The smaller figure replied. - "And that is none of my business as well, so if you'll excuse me, I pose no threat to whatever your line of work is." - It tried to walk past them, but was pushed back, nearly falling down, but somehow managing to keep the balance.
"Ya bought something from Olvis, didn't'cha?" - The questioning continued.
"I have no idea what were the names of all the merchants I visited today, but..." - The deep voice was surprisingly steady for the stressful situation, although it didn’t seem to be impressing the four men there.
"This rat has no right to be sellin' anything in this district." - The big man growled.
"Is that so..." - Stated the one being intimidated, but was cut short.
"He didn' pay his fee to th' boss, you know. An' know what that means?" - The figure leaned closer.
"That you are going to cut this hand off?"
The man laughed. That entertained him, it seemed.
"Nah. That means you... are goin' t' pay for him." - The large man replied.
The smaller figure paused, and then smirked:
"What makes you think I have the money to pay you?"
"Oh, we accept teeth too. Yours look good enough."
It was at that moment one of the supporting, silent trio, leaned on the wall himself, and started looking around, In a second or so, he would notice Sophiana there, eavesdropping, and perhaps she'll need to "pay the fee" as well.
Running out of money, and desperately needing some work, both fair and high-paying, eventually, she stumbled across a messenger. There was some trouble in the scorching deserts of far east, and the mercenary group named "Iron Fist" discretely asked for an outside help. Being a ruthless group, keeping strict order around, they had the coin, and were willing to share... thus, off she went, along a trading route, to the city of Midros, where their barracks stood.
The path to Midros with a trading caravan took much longer than one would expect. Large, muscled bulls, painted and harnessed, obviously knew what they were doing, and dragged themselves slowly along an unseen path through the half-desert; and the caravaners never thought about speeding them up. Jumping down and trotting, even a teenager might have gotten ahead of them, but the problem of Sophiana was of a different matter. First, there was the deal. She guards the caravan while they travel, for a place in a cart and no questions asked. Second, there was the question of water, it being plenty on one of the carts, but not enough around. The sand glowed and glittered as they travelled so much, that the walls of a large, tall, bleached white city weren't noticeable until the evening came, and she realized there was less than an hour of walking to them. As she was saying good-bye to her companions, and was asking her way to the nearest inn, she suddenly realized they never needed her help. Indeed, no wild animal or monstrous creature approached their caravan, and after a while she understood why. The herbal, reeking paint on the bulls she got so accustomed to, was scaring them off. The traders took her in just because they could take her in.
"The Sleepy Solar" was the largest tavern and lodging area in the city, or at least so Sophiana was told. It was filled with travellers and locals at the time she arrived, and when she finally met with the keeper - a big, busty lady in her late fifties, she was met with a small bow and apologetic smile.
"I'm so sorry, fair lady." - She said with a weird, bubbling and croaking accent that made her words barely distinguishable. - "We're all fill' up. Trad'rs, you know. Fly here like bees to th' honey." - She scratcher her chin, - one of two, - before suddenly perking up. - "You know, there is a young lad stayin' here. An elven sort. I remember he was movin' out tonight. God knows what those elves be thinkin', getting' in the middle of the night out on th' street. You can leave your things here, our boys with look after them, and have a walk before it's too dark. We'll clean up and warm you a bath before midnight." - The woman gave her a few suggestions, telling how to get to the temple, and the noble district. The latter, she said, had the most beautiful gardens and tall buildings clad in mosaics. It was a good suggestion, especially since the air was cooling off, and the smell of beer and sweat on the ground floor was unbearable.
It was a nice walk. After the road filled with heat, sun, and sand, the cool, stone streets of Midros were a real bliss for the weathered skin, feeling not unlike cool rain running down the cheeks, as at times it was so hot, it felt like the skin would pop. Nonetheless, as the time went further, and the night became darker, fewer and fewer people came out of their houses, leaving the streets empty, hollow, dead. It was starting to feel as if there were eyes, watching Sophiana from every corner, every rooftop, or sewer grid. An unnerving feeling, that was soon confirmed by a low, growling voice from the alley:
"Wat'cha doin' here, love?"
In the dark, it took her a moment to spot the man who was talking, however, she soon realized he was not talking to her. In the alley across the narrow road she walked, she saw four people with their backs turned to her - tall shadows, looming over a smaller one. They looked rough, and weathered, metal shined in the thin light on the street lamps - they were armed. The largest man, possibly as wide as he was tall, was leaning over the wall, talking to a smaller, hooded figure in front of him.
"Not messing with your business, I assure you, gentlemen." - A deep voice replied. It had its own accent, but not the same as people around here had. Thick, rough, and cutting, against the gurgling and croaking one.
"Is that so?" - The big man mocked. - "And what our business be, then?"
"Nothing the guards would like, I assume." - The smaller figure replied. - "And that is none of my business as well, so if you'll excuse me, I pose no threat to whatever your line of work is." - It tried to walk past them, but was pushed back, nearly falling down, but somehow managing to keep the balance.
"Ya bought something from Olvis, didn't'cha?" - The questioning continued.
"I have no idea what were the names of all the merchants I visited today, but..." - The deep voice was surprisingly steady for the stressful situation, although it didn’t seem to be impressing the four men there.
"This rat has no right to be sellin' anything in this district." - The big man growled.
"Is that so..." - Stated the one being intimidated, but was cut short.
"He didn' pay his fee to th' boss, you know. An' know what that means?" - The figure leaned closer.
"That you are going to cut this hand off?"
The man laughed. That entertained him, it seemed.
"Nah. That means you... are goin' t' pay for him." - The large man replied.
The smaller figure paused, and then smirked:
"What makes you think I have the money to pay you?"
"Oh, we accept teeth too. Yours look good enough."
It was at that moment one of the supporting, silent trio, leaned on the wall himself, and started looking around, In a second or so, he would notice Sophiana there, eavesdropping, and perhaps she'll need to "pay the fee" as well.
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