LocKeii
devil may care
Hadrian & Sebastian [NPC] || Ticedo Empire || Capital ~ Palace Courtyard
By the time the old monk had finished there was no stopping the bristle of tension that dug deep in his taut shoulders. If events had been different perhaps he would have been able to ignore the tight coiling sensation that writhed and thrashed in his consciousness. The more he tried to push it aside the more it reared it’s head until finally it struck with an unexpected ferocity.
“Like I’ve said,” Hadrian began, tone noticeably sharper, “You’re more than capable of sensing magic so tell me monk, do you sense dark energy or do you sense my race?”
The meaning was clear. While drow elves we’re all born with an innate shadow it would only grow as dark as the spell that the caster used themselves. In the back of his mind he would’ve hoped that someone of experience would be able to tell the difference but then again not many took the time to freely associate with his kind. Never mind to explore their unique brand of magical energy.
Even as his nonexistent appetite waned Hadrian continued to methodically whittle away at the food in front of him. The action in itself was a much needed distraction as it's all too pungent flavor pulled his thoughts from less than savory territory. The occasional flutter of wings reminded him that there was also an audience and judging by the fairy’s polite silence she was all ears.
On the other side of the courtyard Sebastian shoveled away with his own plate of slop. Years of personally eating the more or less identical gray mush had merciful numbed the taste to a tolerable level.
“Sir?” Sebastian looked up to see one of the more green faced soldier who was no doubt apart of the transferred troops from the capital. For some it was a temporary assignment while for others the Ticedo Empire would become their permanent home. It was a carefully crafted move that would hopefully encourage an integrated society and if done right a booming economy for Ticedo’s severely parched central bank. Swallowing, he acknowledged the young man with a nod. “What can I do for you, soldier?”
The man seemed to hesitate, glancing left and right before finally speaking. “It’s the hired mercenary sir.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, setting his cutlery down. “You’re going to have to elaborate.”
“There’s been talks, bets, about a fight with one of the...participants, here. Right now.”
As if on cue a boisterous laughter could be heard from the middle of the courtyard. From his seat Sebastian could make out a band of four men and one women surround two of the participants. Although all were armed with Prisal armor and freshly polished weapons they still remained as ragged and patched as their true occupation suggests. Without a second of hesitation Sebastian rose to his feet. “Hold this.” He said, handing his plate to the startled soldier before silently approaching the ensuing commotion. Nearing the group he could just make out a few words.
“...isten here sweetheart as much as your pretty sword dance was neat, you and the rest of your lot are all tossed in the fire now. So why not play with us before you burn?”
“I’m afraid you don’t have that jurisdiction.” The women, seemingly the leader, whipped around armed with a cutting glare. She wore a soiled blue bandanna that kept her unruly black dreads in place. Her severely marred face was covered in tissue deep scars and abbreviations no doubt from a long life of violence and bloodshed.
“Who's the smart mouth?” She mocked, eliciting snickers.
“Fifth appointed militant Officer of the Prisal army.” There were very few cases where Sebastian would pull rank but he had little patience for such a blatant show of bullshit. “I’m taking it upon my authority to terminate your services.”
A look of startled surprise flashed across the mercenary’s face before she was suddenly snarling into his face. To his credit Sebastian barely reacted except to perhaps eye the knife strapped against her belt. “I don’t answer to an officer” She spat.
“Then by all means” He responded, gesturing calmly towards Marcus. Inwardly however Sebastian knew that the Commander would be less than happy with another mess on his hands. He could only hope that his superior would take his word on the matter when he would inevitably be questioned. In the meantime salvaging what was left of the situation was the most that he could do. As soon as the group of sellswords had begrudgingly departed he turned his attention to the two volunteers.
“I apologize for the incivility, you have my assurance that there won’t be a repeat performance.” He assured them. Looking at the mass of muscle and Hadrian’s starry eyed blade dancer there was no doubt how out of hand things could’ve gone.
mentioned:
Colie
@AI10100 @Kenjinx @Jon [Marcus]
By the time the old monk had finished there was no stopping the bristle of tension that dug deep in his taut shoulders. If events had been different perhaps he would have been able to ignore the tight coiling sensation that writhed and thrashed in his consciousness. The more he tried to push it aside the more it reared it’s head until finally it struck with an unexpected ferocity.
“Like I’ve said,” Hadrian began, tone noticeably sharper, “You’re more than capable of sensing magic so tell me monk, do you sense dark energy or do you sense my race?”
The meaning was clear. While drow elves we’re all born with an innate shadow it would only grow as dark as the spell that the caster used themselves. In the back of his mind he would’ve hoped that someone of experience would be able to tell the difference but then again not many took the time to freely associate with his kind. Never mind to explore their unique brand of magical energy.
Even as his nonexistent appetite waned Hadrian continued to methodically whittle away at the food in front of him. The action in itself was a much needed distraction as it's all too pungent flavor pulled his thoughts from less than savory territory. The occasional flutter of wings reminded him that there was also an audience and judging by the fairy’s polite silence she was all ears.
On the other side of the courtyard Sebastian shoveled away with his own plate of slop. Years of personally eating the more or less identical gray mush had merciful numbed the taste to a tolerable level.
“Sir?” Sebastian looked up to see one of the more green faced soldier who was no doubt apart of the transferred troops from the capital. For some it was a temporary assignment while for others the Ticedo Empire would become their permanent home. It was a carefully crafted move that would hopefully encourage an integrated society and if done right a booming economy for Ticedo’s severely parched central bank. Swallowing, he acknowledged the young man with a nod. “What can I do for you, soldier?”
The man seemed to hesitate, glancing left and right before finally speaking. “It’s the hired mercenary sir.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, setting his cutlery down. “You’re going to have to elaborate.”
“There’s been talks, bets, about a fight with one of the...participants, here. Right now.”
As if on cue a boisterous laughter could be heard from the middle of the courtyard. From his seat Sebastian could make out a band of four men and one women surround two of the participants. Although all were armed with Prisal armor and freshly polished weapons they still remained as ragged and patched as their true occupation suggests. Without a second of hesitation Sebastian rose to his feet. “Hold this.” He said, handing his plate to the startled soldier before silently approaching the ensuing commotion. Nearing the group he could just make out a few words.
“...isten here sweetheart as much as your pretty sword dance was neat, you and the rest of your lot are all tossed in the fire now. So why not play with us before you burn?”
“I’m afraid you don’t have that jurisdiction.” The women, seemingly the leader, whipped around armed with a cutting glare. She wore a soiled blue bandanna that kept her unruly black dreads in place. Her severely marred face was covered in tissue deep scars and abbreviations no doubt from a long life of violence and bloodshed.
“Who's the smart mouth?” She mocked, eliciting snickers.
“Fifth appointed militant Officer of the Prisal army.” There were very few cases where Sebastian would pull rank but he had little patience for such a blatant show of bullshit. “I’m taking it upon my authority to terminate your services.”
A look of startled surprise flashed across the mercenary’s face before she was suddenly snarling into his face. To his credit Sebastian barely reacted except to perhaps eye the knife strapped against her belt. “I don’t answer to an officer” She spat.
“Then by all means” He responded, gesturing calmly towards Marcus. Inwardly however Sebastian knew that the Commander would be less than happy with another mess on his hands. He could only hope that his superior would take his word on the matter when he would inevitably be questioned. In the meantime salvaging what was left of the situation was the most that he could do. As soon as the group of sellswords had begrudgingly departed he turned his attention to the two volunteers.
“I apologize for the incivility, you have my assurance that there won’t be a repeat performance.” He assured them. Looking at the mass of muscle and Hadrian’s starry eyed blade dancer there was no doubt how out of hand things could’ve gone.
mentioned:
Colie
@AI10100 @Kenjinx @Jon [Marcus] 
