Pleasure Doing Business: Pyrotechnics and Peril

[Karuka]

Closed to Storm, continued from here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=6358).

Anger boiled inside Karuka's slender body with such ferocity that she could only remember one occasion when she'd felt such a rage. How dare he? How dare? Just because she was little and looked innocent and sweet didn't mean she was a helpless little mongrel out of some middle class Dheath family. Just because she'd smiled at him and laughed when he was clever didn't mean she'd cared one whit for what he thought he could do in bed. And just because he had a handsome face and a pleasant smile didn't mean anything.

Faces meant nothing, intent and strength meant everything. She was from a fighting people, and wasn't about to take a man that carried a dagger like he didn't even want it and maybe had a magic trick or two. He was a businessman. Where was his hot blood?

The sand crunched softly under her feet and the cold night wind raked through her unruly curls as the stars shone fiercely down upon the sleeping city; stalwart and undying guardians and guides. And always, there was the sound of the land itself, buzzing blatantly in the back of her mind. It was something wild and feral, and appealed to her instincts more than anywhere else she'd ever been.

She could have laughed when she thought of what her reaction to Storm's advances would have been in a place like Radasanth. A puzzled stammer, an angry flush, a brief 'no,' and she'd have found another inn immediately. But now...she felt like a rushing wind. She couldn't just stop, not yet. She had to keep moving, and woe to anything that tried to stop her.

In her fierce pride, she had no idea she was being watched and stalked, more like prey than predator. The streets of Irrakam were a jungle, and she looked like a helpless antelope to the human versions of Fallien's karuku-tal. But for now, they just bade their time and waited. They'd let her tire herself out before pouncing.

It didn't take her unreasonably long, either. It had been an exceedingly long day, and the little red-head was exhausted now that the energy rush of yelling down an insult was dissipating and she realized just how cold the night was getting. She was all alone in an unfamiliar city after dark without a room.

For a moment, she regretted leaving Storm. He might have even taken her refusal to sleep with him graciously, he'd displayed a very cool head during the time she'd known him, despite being brash and arrogant. Could he really be blamed for acting on his impulses when she'd been a perfectly willing companion up to that point? She'd been incredibly insulting, with the way she'd thrown his gifts right back in his face. Her mother must have been turning in her grave to imagine her behavior toward a friend. A gift was all but a sacred trust; a sign of hospitality and cordiality. She'd broken that trust in the most blatant manner.

She shook her head violently, dismissing that train of thought. The only person whose needs and desires he'd thought of were his own, and at the very least, she'd let him stew over that. If they were to meet again, they'd meet again, maybe be awkward or maybe get over it, but for now, she needed to start looking for an inn with rooms. The low buildings didn't seem to offer much in the way of hints; everything looked much the same in the dark, especially since she'd never seen it in good light.

"'Eh! Gerl!" A voice called from a few yards behind her. The tone was enough to pump her already agitated senses back into a highly alert mode, and she whirled around to see a man with a gang of four or five behind him and a sword in his hand. "Road is ahrs at night, and there's a fee for passage. Ye can pay in gold or we can take it from ye in other ways."

If he'd been in biting range, Karuka would have been sorely tempted to bite his nose off, but he wasn't, so she slipped a rune out of her pouch, ready to use it. "Nice try, bu' y' caught me on a bad night. Try again t'morro', maybe y'll do better."

Her fingers traced over the rune as the bandits fanned out and drew closer. She might be able to take one out of combat with the flame, but the rest had swords and knew how to use them, and she was dressed in something less sturdy than her vlince. She didn't have the time to regret leaving the relative safety of the room. She just bit her thumb, started muttering her prayer, and hoped luck would pull her through.

As the fireball formed in her hand, an idea occurred to Karuka. She'd never tried to control what shape her little fireball took, ever. These men were close enough together that if she could spread the fire out, she could take two or three of them out entirely, since she knew from experience that beings who breathe fire most often die of it. If she could do that, the numbers against her would be tolerable, at the very least. Two or three on one were odds she was used to.

As the men advanced further and further, the fire elongated before her face, stretching out like a vicious grub, ready to suck the life out of those that approached it. She aimed it for the three at the center of their formation; leering men with faces that hid none of their desires. When she released it, the string of fire held its form hitting them square in the face.

Two of them dropped, hacking up blood and trying to breathe with burned out lungs, while the third, who hadn't been breathing in, dropped his sword and clutched his eyes, screaming. The two still standing looked warily at the redhead, who now held her staff aloft before her. Who knew what sort of magic she could conjure from that?

Deciding that this "helpless" female was not, in fact, so helpless, the two unharmed ones turned tail and ran, leaving their comrades behind. For the moment, the little red-head was safe, but she knew that she needed to find an inn for the night soon. She couldn't leave a big trail of bodies, it wasn't right and it wasn't necessary.

Her head now clear, Karuka started trudging through the sandy streets, looking for an inn with vacancies.

'Tis ay a pity I can' na be sweet all th' time...but ev'ry 'un knows...Irish lasses get mean when cross'd. It didn't really help that she was just being true to form, but she wished for some sort of stability, where she could just keep up her chipper and stupid act and never need to twist her red mouth in the vicious snarl it became during times of danger.

[Storm Veritas]

The behavior was so out of character for him, it made him positively irate. There was nothing that could justify the consistent stupidity of his choices; near pacifism, an irrational following of the sexy redhead, and now, of all things, following her out into Irrakam.

He had waited too long, and couldn’t find her, and the streets were dimly lit with only a few torches to supplement the pale yellow moonlight. There was reasonable commotion about, with people moving in and out, talking, and drinking out in the street. It was behavior that would not be tolerated in Radasanth, he thought, as he watched a fat man steady himself against a large food cart. In Radasanth, Storm thought, the police would go out of their way to stop such minutiae, but were completely incapable of stopping the mage from his own horrific crime sprees.

Don’t think of them now. You’re not that man anymore.

He tried to convince himself not to smile at the thought of his sadistic past, but he failed, hearkening back to a more hedonistic existence. If that Storm, the real Storm could see him pathetically follow a woman he barely knew out like some half-assed lapdog, he would be disgusted with the man who currently inhabited the form.

But I have to go.

It was true; there was something in him that had genuinely come undone, some unhinged acknowledgement that perhaps this was no ordinary girl. His feelings were strong; conspicuously so, he thought, and whatever it was that drove him would not listen to logic or reason. He felt possessed, outside of himself, and out of control. They were all bad things, and made him exceptionally tempermental.

“Excuse me” he began, chatting up an exceptionally large elf. The dark faced titan of a thing turned to him, a puzzled and instantly angry look about his face. The elf postured with sarcasm – how could this human be so brazen as to bother him?

“I need to find a girl who came through here recently. Pretty girl. Red hair, cloth dress. Probably walking with a staff. Can you help?”

The elf put his hands on his hips, making no attempt to stifle a laugh. His bulbous shoulders quaked as he chuckled, throwing his head up in hysterics as the young mage was pestering him with foolish questions.

“Boy, you don’t bother me with your ridiculous mortal pursuits… For I am…”

Storm Veritas was not impressed.

So enraged with the condescending attitude, so inherently askew following the series of insane decisions regarding the girl, Storm acted out of sheer frustration and anger. He stepped forward swiftly, extending his hand high above his head to take clasp of the throat of the elf. The elf looked down, confused and angered, reaching for Storm’s wrist as if to parry away a pestering fly.

Storm pivoted, clenching hold of the elf’s larynx and turning the man with him. The towering elf spun and crashed hard, falling in a roll that left Storm now towering over him. The strength of the sadistic Veritas was more than startling, and he had yet to use his most intricate of gifts – that blast of energy that would bring on the darkness.

“Don’t make me ask you again, elf.”

Storm’s eyes were thin grey slits as the elf looked up at him, a gaze of genuine terror painting his face. This was no normal human, and he had hunkered into the wrong battle to engage. He swiftly directed his aggressor towards the western side of town.

For his pleasantries, the elf was spared, as onlookers who had now spun to view the fight watched Storm stride westward. He looked crimson in the moonlight, his purplish skin filled with venom.

[Karuka]

She hadn't been able to find an inn; in fact, she'd wandered farther and farther from any sort of area that could even be deemed mildly hospitable. It was cold, too. The same clear sky that had let the rays of the sun pound mercilessly down on the land in the day, the same clear sky that displayed the stars in an untainted brilliance now, let all the heat leech from the merciless land at night. She'd climbed up onto one of the hot clay roofs, put on her sturdy vlince clothes for warmth as much as security, and wrapped tight in her thread-bare cloak.

It was late, much too late to keep walking the city, so she'd just spend the rest of the night out in the open. She was tired and from her waist down was sore thanks to the long camel ride, but her anger at Storm had dissipated. She knew, and had known from the beginning, that she should never have expected anything less from a man that had shown her kindness. There was no such thing as selflessness, and she knew that all too well.

She closed her eyes, trying to open herself to the calm of the night, but Fallien was not a calm land. It roiled and seethed around her, so agitated that sleep wouldn't be coming to her fast. Karuka had never set foot in a land so disturbed by its past and the violence within. It wasn't a comfortable place to be, and if the lass saw another sunset in Fallien, there would be a damn good reason.

The sound of footsteps beneath her caught her attention, and she rolled over to get a look. Two men stood there, right beneath her, consumed by the shadows. They didn't look up, seeming to think that having a desolate street was enough. From her perch, the little red-head could hear everything they said.

"How do you propose to get these funds? The market demands new products, what we can sell here isn't suitable anymore."

"We have new products being brought in. I meet my contact tomorrow. His market demands the exotic, ours does the same. There is plenty of profit for all concerned."

The first man shifted in consternation. "What's the product we're shipping out?" A bag came out and opened, and he nodded. "Good enough. Who is the contact?"

The second, taller man leaned in, and Karuka couldn't hear what was said, though she leaned over so far that if her grip on the lip of the roof slipped even for a second, she was sure she would fall. She didn't know what she would do with anything she learned, but she was still more than slightly curious.

"HIM?! Do you know what you may well be dealing with in him?!"

His concerns were allayed when the other man produced something from his robes. "We can show him that we have in our power the ability to secure rare, even unique, items. Honorable business with us will be most profitable for him, do you not agree?"

She'd made the mistake of leaning too far, and now she fell, landing atop the first man gracelessly, without her staff or her bag. She looked up into the eyes of the second man, obviously the middle man, saw his shock and alarm as clearly as she felt fear. Lashing out with the quickness of a serpent, she kicked him in the knee and then stumbled to her feet, speeding down the street as fast as her legs would carry her. She'd worry about her things if she lived to see the dawn.

She could hear them behind her, hear their swords drawn, and she knew that if they had anything to say about it, she would not be seeing the sun's rays peer over the horizon to once again bake the land. She dashed through the streets, dropping her cloak to move faster. Long Irish legs carried her over unfamiliar ground, and slowly she gained distance.

That was, she gained distance until her uneducated dash almost had her collide at full speed with a wall as she came upon a dead end. Panting and sweating despite the night's chill, Karuka turned and dashed back, only to find herself out of time. Right across the sparsely populated street were the two men, brandishing black swords at her and continuing to charge.

She caught sight of something at the edge of her vision, a long broom, and she grabbed for it. It felt thin and weak in her hands, but there were only two of them, and she'd faced worse odds before. The first one, the shorter came in with a high slash, which she ducked under before hitting him in the face with the broad side of her makeshift weapon and jabbing him in the throat with the stick side.

The other one came in fast, though, chopping through her broom as though it were a piece of straw and hitting her across the face with a dizzying backhand that send her tumbling. She tasted blood as her lip split open, but that was of little concern compared to the disorientation which sent her stumbling down the street, and she fell, landing hard.

Karuka shook her head hard to clear it, hearing a slight shuffle in the sand as the one she thought she'd knocked out climbed back to his feet. She heard him growl something vicious to his still-armed partner, which the red-head was certain was a death order for her. He advanced on her as she scrabbled for purchase on the slippery sands, sword lowered to impale her as soon as he reached her.

I ay gave i' mi bes', she thought while glaring venomously at her murderer. She could see his eyes, shining and black, but nothing else. His face was covered, as was his partner's. Her lips curled back into a snarl. There was nothing and no one that was going to save her. She could beg for mercy and hope that she'd merely be raped, beaten, and left to die on the street, or she could keep her fire and die swiftly. She chose the latter, and merely flinched as the blade rose to finish the job.

>>>I gave it my best.<<<

[Storm Veritas]

Night had followed without excitement. It was a wild disappointment; to have nothing to vent such venom. His anger slowly dissipated, but the stewing anger and frustration would not so easily subside. The girl was nowhere to be found, and his search seemed fruitless. She was nowhere to be found; nowhere to in sight. None had seen her. How was this even possible?

And then, chance came running to him. It all happened so magically. The faint yelping sound that echoed to him seemed to low to be heard. He moved to it, concerned for a reason he could not quantify. A thud, a rustle, they made him jog. A grunt and a smashing sound brought him to full sprint. He was moving through town at full gallop, making for the small alley. He was right. Inside stood two men over one, and he knew right away he had found her. It seemed too late as he saw the knife.

“NO!”

Such simplistic a cry was all he could muster. He extended his hand at the knife that was raised without thinking. The energy released itself, outside of his control for the first time in as long as he could recall. A blast of phenomenal power erupted from his hand, a twisting burst of white hot light that twisted in a thin ray towards the blade and the man. It hit both, turning the man into a covered wreck of smoldering flesh. The smell hit Storm, and all of his venom and frustration came back. The second man turned to Storm as Veritas advanced, his eyes on fire and awake with concentrated hate.

You picked on the wrong girl, mother*cker…

If the electric prowess was his distinct magical gift, then the work of daggers was his art. He loved to use them when he was working, as they could be so fast, so precise. In this case, he wanted to be brutal.

The man came at him with a knife in his hand, a large kitchen knife that could be quite dangerous. Storm was unfazed by this act, having seen things far worse than this pathetic ambusher. When the goon hammered down with the knife, Storm stepped forward, closing the distance to a point where the knife sailed harmlessly over his shoulder. The blade of Veritas was far more well set.

He felt the twisted kriss eat flesh, driving it deep through the left arm of his attacker. The man’s eyes widened, realization and fear that he hadn’t even seen the blade coming. Storm’s left hand then drove a second knife through the open armpit of the assailant, the satisfying clink of a knife being dropped sounding on stone behind him. The knives were pulled, and a two fisted push sent the man stumbling.

“I hope it was good for you. You’ll go slowly. You’ll be a lesson.”

In his periphery he spotted Karuka, slowly regaining composure. She would stop him if he tried to really play. If he were to disembowel the man, or force him to taste his own flesh, then Storm would be ceased. He would not give this man the satisfaction of such quick death, but knew his strikes were limited.

Knee, stomach, bicep, foot. Four strikes came in a rapid succession, a horrible flurry of savage thrusts and swipes that were both calculated and inhuman. The knee strike split bones apart, the stomach simply introducing the death blow. The strikes to the arm and foot simply assured that the man would not get away, not get help in time. The stomach lining was compromised; Storm knew the man had less than an hour.

He turned from the man, looking down at the girl he had extended himself for. She had taken this from him. He couldn’t be the monster with her. He couldn’t be himself. He may have loved her, but she didn’t return such affection. He wouldn’t lend both dignity and his bloodlust.

“I hope you’re alright, Karuka.”

He thought about helping her up, holding her, apologizing and reconciling.

He thought long about it as he turned his back on her and walked away.

[Karuka]

Instead of the bone-crushing blow she'd been expecting, a crackling serpent of deadly light flew over her and rammed into the man standing over her, killing him instantly and making his body twitch like a dying cockroach. Instead of being impaled or having her ribs and internal organs smashed to bits, Karuka was hit in the stomach by a warm red object about the size of an orange.

She held onto it, watching mutely as Storm hacked and slashed into the second man. He'd snatched her from the chilling grip of death, coming with as much warning as a prowling panther, and his attacks were just as vicious. No...they were more so. There was frustration and fury in each blow that landed, and a determination to kill as brutally and painfully as possible.

She hadn't felt fear until now. She'd faced her death with defiance, clinging to the Celtic tradition of dying with grace and courage. Wasn't that right? Now that she was safe, though, she was shaking and clinging to the glass-hard ball that filled her hands. She could taste her fear, strong and bitter in her mouth.

It wasn't death she feared. It wasn't even the monster who tore into the men that were going to kill her, the monster who would have her life in his hands the moment he was done with them. But never before had she given herself up so completely and hopelessly without having kissed death directly. She was having her mortality shoved most unpleasantly into her face, and found herself terrified.

Suddenly a stillness came over the street, punctuated only by the gurgles of the dying man. She could hear the sands crunch beneath Storm's boots as he turned to her, could feel his eyes on her for the long moment before he spoke, but couldn't quite raise her own to meet his. His tone carried an odd mix of concern and chill, as though he'd been terrified before he'd arrived, and was now furious with either her or himself.

And then he left. No looking back, no coming closer, no threats, no entreaties, just well wishes as frozen as the icy stars in the sky. That didn't sit any better with her than being defenseless in the face of the attacks, in running from combat.

What manner o' man be this? she wondered, eyes fixed on the curve of the corner where he'd vanished. The question burned in her consciousness, trapping her there with her little speckled sphere. What sort of man would go out into the dark of a dangerous city searching for a girl that had rebuffed him, save her life, and then just walk away?

Finally, she tucked the sphere into her rune pouch and stood up, forcing herself to stop shaking. The distance to the intersection seemed to float by before she got her bearings back, and she hurried now, trying to catch up to him. He was different than she'd thought, and she had too few friends in this lifetime to be too proud to try and reconcile with someone who had gone so far out of his way to save her.

She saw him after a minute, the proud figure with his back turned squarely to her, still in all but his stride. For a moment, she considered backing off and leaving him to his life, and she would stay to hers. He could tear her apart if he wanted to, but why would he? At the worst, he would rebuff her like she'd done to him only an hour or two before.

"Storm," she called, breaking into a run for a few paces and grabbing his arm, catching his eyes. She saw conflict in them, several kinds of anger, a bitterness, a hint of sadness, but also a coldness that made her pause for a moment before speaking.

"I've been all o'er this world, from th' north o' Salvar t' th' jungles o' Dheathain. I've met many men, travelers an' non, evil an' good, rich an' poor. I've walked wi' many. An' I've seen many that'd be willin' t' keep company wi' a woman jus' t' get int' her bed. I learned that lesson th' hard way, an' vowed ne'er again. I thought tha' 'twas all y' wanted, an' i' seemed t' be."

He was still there, still listening, but his face was so hard to read in the shadows cast by the moon and stars, and his eyes still shone with the same bright fierceness.

"But I've ne'er met a man, not aon that'd call 'imself frien', or a dog that wanted t' merely sniff aroun', that has come lookin' when I've left 'im an' come helped me. Yer th' firs'. How was I t' know y' were differen' when y' seemed ay so much th' same?"

She released his arm, taking a pace back and looking around to get her directions. "We've said g'bye a' leas' tri times t'day. I'd rather not t' make i' four, but I'll understan' if y'd rather not t' see me again. I've got t' go an' find m things...th' problem wi' eaves-droppin' is that sometimes nothin' drops with y'."

There was a square ahead; more of a circle, but it was obvious that it was a hub of activity during market days, and Karuka nodded toward it. "I'll give y' time t' decide, if y' like. I'll be there in half an hour. If yer not there, I won't blame y', but I'd ay be glad t' see y' there."

She took a step back, increasing the space between them, trying to get any hint of a reaction from him before heading on her way.

If you want, you can have him go with her, or be there waiting when the half hour's up, or even decide that no, he thinks he doesn't want to see her again because she's way too much trouble.

[Storm Veritas]

He was surprised to be confronted with the pretty redhead again, although he supposed some part of it envisioned it when he first turned heel. Women were suckers for romance, but worse yet suckers for the hard to get. If Storm could save her life and leave her just as easily, then he knew he would have changed significantly in her eyes.

Her adorable accent implied that he was precisely correct. She had been quite smitten with him, and his plan had gone along swimmingly.

But why bother with the charade?

The question wasn't an unfair one. Storm was, after all, a high hero or villain to many, and finding female companionship wasn't a struggle. Generally even the most oafish come-ons were successful now, where his very presence was enough to start the whispering of women looking for something different, something dangerous. There was something about Karuka that had legitimitely weakened him, something which caused a dangerous irrationality within his behavior.

Don't make her wait too long. Even if you're undecided, undecisive action is never a good thing. Deal with her, then decide.

"Thank you, my dear. I am happy you are alright. I am not sure what the day will entail, but I should like to see you again. Allow me to walk, first."

After her initial long repose, this solicited only a simple affirmitive response, both sweet and endearing. He smiled, kissed the knuckle over her middle finger, and bid her adieu to walk amongst the masses. He would disappear, do business, and think a bit.

Now, he could no longer disappear. The crowds gave him a wide berth as he walked, parting like the seas before the holy man in stories before him. There were whispers now, and word had spread quickly in the alley. An odd combination of hatred and love filled their faces when the townspeople looked at him. There was an air of romance and intrigue about him, and he knew the opinions that would form. Women would love him; this was always the case. Men would go one of two ways: the cowardly would fear him, and the bold would doubt him. These courageous fools would think the stories to be lies, and refuse to respect him for the deity that he was. Generally, they picked a lot of fights with him.

It was for this reason that he kept his daggers sharp.

Despite the parting of the market to herald his coming, he was able to walk long enough to let everyone see him. He wove through the market once, and then again a second time. A third, and a fourth, and he knew all their faces. This was not important; the pedestrian plebe class of Fallien was of no concern to him. What was important was that they knew his face, and that he no longer looked out of place as he walked amongst them. Let them know you, and they let you blend, he had learned.

Now where the hell is he?

He no sooner mouthed the thought than he caught the sight of his contact. The contact he sought was slippery; moreso even than him. He was a small man, short and squat and round faced, with a look of perpetual perspiration about him. He stood no taller than Storm's shoulder, and from his height Veritas could see the gleam of a fast spreading bald spot atop his head. Dark circles lined the neck and armpits of his shirt, and broad sausage fingers wove together amongst themselves over a round pot belly.

"You! You think you could make a bigger scene next time? Make more attention? Perhaps I should get you a sign!?" The little man was irate.

"That's enough." A cold gaze shot down from Storm to the small merchant, and the peddlar was silenced. Storm knew the man could be as upset as he wanted; there was nothing to do about it now. The two walked slowly for a few moments, weaving back and forth through stalls and around carts. They, too, allowed themselves to be seen together.

"Now... shall we?" The voice of Veritas was smooth again, not smitten and boyish as it was when he spoke to Karuka. The tall, elegant murderer was in control again, and he produced a small, dense bag, from under his coat. It was large enough to fill his hand, but not so big that it couldn't be hidden. He had hidden it this far. It's contents were densely packed Salvar mushrooms, and in the blackest of markets they fetched less than 5 gold for the full bag. Here, they were worth 500.

He swapped hands with the little man, and felt the rustle in his bag. A knowing glare between the two; both were competent killers, and a bad deal was not worth discussing.

Without a word they parted ways, and Storm had pocketed the parcel long before he made it to the market square. While that bag would only catch 500 gold here, it would garner several thousand to those mushroom-drunk fools in Radasanth. The exchange was so simple, but customs were so dangerous. Only a man universally feared could serve as the effective mule.

He was smiling ear to ear when he saw her again. A part of it was the wealth he had just gained through this transaction. The higher bliss, however, came from knowing that life with Karuka was about to get a whole lot more simple.

Life with Karuka. He liked that ring.

[Karuka]

I bunnied you a little, let me know if it's not okay.

Nothin's e'er simple, Karuka mused to herself as she jogged through the dark streets of Irrakam to retrieve her belongings. To her surprise, her cloak had been laying where she'd dropped it, and what people there were gave her a wide berth. Despite the fact that the name Storm Veritas hadn't been anything more to her than a tavern legend a few days ago, it meant something here, and she'd been seen with him. It proved beyond doubt an old truth - better to have powerful friends than power itself. People attacked the powerful in order to test their mettle. People with powerful friends were left alone more often than not, for fear of bloody retribution.

Well placed fear, as it happened in this instance. Very well placed fear.

When she neared the building she'd fallen from, she launched herself onto a roof, grabbing the eaves with her hands and pulling herself up by her arms. From there it was easy to get her staff and bag, and a few minutes of walking brought her back to the square, where she found a place to sit and leaned wearily against her staff.

I'm ay so tired...

She closed her eyes, resting. It had been a long day, made longer by the impromptu chase, and the soft breeze that stirred her curls seemed to be a reassuring pat on the back.

"Hey. Look at the sand."

Karuka's head snapped up, the voice had seemed to come from right beside her, and yet there was no one within ten feet of her. Strange...

Leaning against her staff once more, the red-head let her eyes focus on the ground. Grains of sand slowly swept in front of her feet, tumbling gently end over end. It looked like it was just being stirred by the breeze...except what wind there was was blowing the other way.

Karuka's head lifted and she scanned the other people in the square. None of their eyes turned downward; sand was a part of life, and no more to be paid attention to than blades of grass in Corone. However...when something small and common started behaving in strange ways, something big was about to happen.

Instinctively, she reached into her rune bag, fishing around the warm little sphere to pull out a handful of runes. She peered at their familiar faces, starting to decipher their meaning before she had a sudden flash of insight, and it filled her with anxiety.

"Hey, sugar." The smooth voice that lilted through a smile relieved her, but only a little bit. What she'd seen had such a sense of urgency to it that she hadn't known if Storm had the time to meet up with her before the trouble started.

She looked up at him, her face not mirroring his smile. "Y' need t' get out o' th' country, an' right fas'. There's some'un out t' kill y', an' from what I saw, y'll be ay lucky if he doesn'."

The smile changed. Before, it had been a happy smile; he'd been looking forward to the rest of his stay in Irrakam, however long or short he'd planned it to be. Now it was a proud sneer, as though he would relish battling anyone who dared challenge him. It was a predator's grin, and predators rarely had the good sense to keep themselves out of trouble.

Karuka sighed. Men...

"Look a' th' sand." It still crawled slowly, inexorably, against the wind. "Here, 'tis limitless. Y'd ay be safer away o' here." She doubted he'd heed her words. He had power and knew it. Too often were the powerful prone to folly, which is why she knew she had to stay. If he was going to tempt fate, he'd more likely come out alive if he had someone nearby who could read it.

[Storm Veritas]

When she looked at him, the genuine fear on her face was sweet, if a bit condescending, and he took it at true face value. She was good to him, and wished him well, and wanted for his safety. It was a logical thing; she had seen him fight and probably didn't underestimate what she could instinctively know, and only sought for this man that cared about her to not be hurt.

Sorry, sugar, but what you don't know about me may be better for you.

He thought about feigning fear; perhaps if he looked scared of that which a normal man would be scared of, he would seem more human, less monstrous, less terrible. He could look like a vulnerable, genuine article mortal, but such a strategy would be anything with genuine.

Instead of the stagger, he chose the sneer. Instead of panic, it was pride. It was arrogant, it was brazen, and it bordered on foolish. It was Storm Veritas.

"I'm afraid I'm done running, darlin'. People round here have been bullying business from the East for a long time. That's what brings allure; rumor that the cash is so good.

"I came here to swap vices; none of my own but the powders and salts that control the weak. It would make a great deal of money, although I'm sure these folks figure I'm never leaving with their money anyway.

"They're all big, and tough, and scary. They won't be alone. Many people just like me came and thought they'd get the better of the deal, and didn't leave town. Their own bravados bit off more than they could chew, and these pricks cut their throats before they left town.

"They run a sound business; lucrative trades for those suckers born each minute."

A deep breath. He had been talking too much, on a soap box, yammering away about things she didn't care about. He sounded like every other two-bit fool that tried to tough-guy his way through a known ambush; this business was built on the back of others underestimating whatever badasses Fallien had to offer.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes. Those big emeralds were so brilliant, so bright. She didn't want any of this, regardless of the not-so-hidden talents.

"I expect they wait at the exit to Fallien anyway. They'll wait there, ready to slit my throat and take my money back."

His knowing grin revealed unbelievable confidence.

"Bad news for them, is that they aren't the only trick-show in town."

[Karuka]

Why men always had ten times more bravado than common sense was something Karuka doubted she'd ever understand, so even harder for her was why powerful men lost any common sense at all in the face of what they knew they could do. Especially when trying to be impressive. She stood up, using the motion to let exhaustion roll from her like water. She had one last warning she could give before she'd just have to let the man walk into trouble. She expected him to ignore the warning...but the strong always tended to trust their strength rather than heed a seer's cautions.

Not that he e'en knows what I am.

Her eyes stayed firmly fixed in the direction the sand was going, as though if she gazed long enough, she'd be able to physically see the face she could name "Malevolence."

"'Tis likely," she told Storm, words weighted with more gravity than the chipper lass of the morning had seemed capable of, "that th' only reason he's after y' is because you're another 'trick show.'" Her blue eyes turned to him, reflecting the crisp sickle of the Fallien moon.

For a moment, she thought he was going to take her seriously. But then that self-confident smirk was back, and she knew it was a lost cause.

"People coming after me generally don't know my tricks, sugar." A harsh chuckle escaped his throat, and Karuka, giving it up, just sighed, rubbing her forehead and looking back to the horizon. She'd done what she could.

"Sleep while 'tis still night. Trouble will ay last t' dawn."

A weight and warmth that was growing more and more familiar settled on her shoulder, and Storm's eyes caught her own. For the moment, they were clear of anything, neither pride nor lust tinged his gaze, leaving nothing but honesty behind.

"I'm certain I'll sleep plenty when I'm dead, but no need to rush it. If we're gonna get hit, trouble prefers the night." His hand squeezed her shoulder gently, reassuring her that for the moment, she was safe with him, and that until the next sunset, nothing was going to happen. After a long moment, lust shone in his eyes once more, and a grin tinged his lips. "And you're in luck! So do I!"

With an exasperated sigh, Karuka rolled her eyes. But she didn't walk off again.


~*~*~

So, it was true that the lightning fiend had come into Fallien. That was good. While Dhiren was not so foolish as to dare attacking the dark elf that was the Jya's pet, Veritas was fair game. He loved the feeling of taking the powerful and crushing their lives in his hands. He was addicted to the rush of immortality, for what else was a man that no one could kill?

As the sun-beaten warlock bent to sit, the sands piled on top of each other, creating a luxurious throne for the man they hailed as master. He chuckled. When Veritas left the city...or, perhaps, was forced to leave the city, he'd be in for the fight of his life. His last fight. For how could a mere mortal expect to face a man whose power was as limitless as the desert sands?

With a contemplative smirk, Dhiren leaned back on his seat, wondering if there wasn't a way to just lure his victim out to him to be devoured. When the dawn comes...I should go and see for myself this man. He knows me not, and I will know his weak points before he even knows I am coming.


~*~*~

Dawn broke out in a brilliant crimson over Irrakam, and since it was hot out in the city and seemed in tune with the local tastes, Karuka put on something other than her vlince traveling suit for the first time in almost a year. The blue silk skirt and top set off her eyes, bared her arms, and exposed the small gold belly button ring that hadn't seen the light of day in ages.

Why she went out exposed like that in a city she knew to be dangerous, she couldn't quite explain...but somehow, for her, cities felt less dangerous than traveling in the open, despite the fact that the most dangerous predators of all flocked to them like bees to a hive.

Or maybe she just felt safe because she had one of those most dangerous predators on her side.

Maybe.

Whatever her reasoning, if any, the redhead was ready to go back out into the town that had been so rough just hours before, characteristic cheeky attitude putting bounce back into her step.

[[bunny approved via PM]]

[Karuka]

Apologies to Storm, but for storyline purposes I need to finish this thread.

Rare was the occasion that he even got close enough to the blight on the sand known as Irrakam to see its buildings jutting out of the horizon like a tumor. Rarer still did he deign to trod the same streets as the vermin that the Jya had opened the country to. It even disgusted him that the air he inhaled was tainted by the fools among his own people that tolerated this intrusion onto their land. Where was their pride, the spirit that should have rejected these foreign insects and crushed them under heel?

The Fallien had become weak. It would be his duty to make them strong again...and the first step was eradicating the ones that had no business contaminating their land. Already so much damage was done it would take an entire generation to fix.

Dhiren stalked the streets of Irrakam rapidly, hating every touch of his sandals upon the desecrated ground. The faster he moved, the sooner he would find his target and the sooner he would be able to read the man. Then he could draw Storm Veritas out into the desert and crush him. His death would be a message to the Outlanders. A very potent message.

His search of the city did not reveal his target, however, and after only a couple of hours the mighty firmamancer tired of hurrying around the city whose denizens crawled through it like termites through their mound. He stopped for a minute, barely noticing the welcoming warmth of the sands that quickly encased his feet.

But that didn't mean it went entirely unnoticed.

Karuka must have seemed, in her own words "ay silly" watching the ever-present sand go about its business...but sand didn't act that way under normal circumstances, so the precocious redhead had taken to following it around. Of course she looked at what Irrakam had to offer, and much of it was beautiful. Fine, smooth linens and brilliant silks were available by the bolt, and glass jewelry glittered in the sunlight with the same fierce shine as desert life itself. If she'd had more money, she'd have very much liked to buy some...but it was pretty pointless to purchase something she knew she'd never wear.

Just as the mid-morning sun finally smashed away the lingering cool of the night, Karuka found the source of the sand's strange motions. It was a man who wore a sleeveless white linen tunic, baring his brown arms for all the world to see. Everything about him, from his stiffly erect posture to the set of his highly chiseled face, held him aloof from the rest of the city. Despite the fact he was standing in its market place, Irrakam couldn't touch the man whose fierce dark eyes glittered maliciously from beneath the shawl that covered his head. A stiff black goatee jutted sharply out from his chin like a knife, as though it would eviscerate his enemies on its own. The aura of danger that surrounded the man was so intense that Karuka started to walk on. She wanted nothing to do with the amount of trouble such a man would undoubtedly mean.

And then his eyes turned to lock with hers. Despite the heat of the day, the animosity in those bottomless eyes sent a chill though the redhead's very core. For a full minute she was trapped beneath those black eyes, caught like a rat in a trap. Then she forced herself to take a breath, then a step, then turn. The spell was broken, she could move again.

But in her stomach was a waver of trepidation. Looking something like that in the eye was never a good thing.


Dhiren watched the blue-eyed redhead leave. There was an equal chance she was a native or an Outlander, but whichever she was, she suspected something. She had noticed the sands congregating around their master, their Samrata. And those pale blue eyes that were she native marked one favored by Suravani held far too much insight for him to let the girl live.

He walked the streets once more, quest for Veritas temporarily forgotten as he took steps to deal with a present threat to his plans. Though the girl was wary, though the shining dark red curls bounced from side to side as she watched for anyone that might be after her, she was not wary enough, and as soon as she was far enough away from a main body of people he grabbed her and whisked her away to the wasteland he called home.

[Karuka]

Heat raked her slender body with all the merciful tenderness of an alcoholic Roman gaoler on a bad day. With a groan, Karuka sat up slowly, forcibly swimming her way back to consciousness. She coughed a couple of times, spitting coarse grains of red sand from a mouth that felt like it had been chewing cotton for the past hour.

Slowly she squinted her eyes open, flinching against the glare of the Fallien sun reflected from the sand. With a whump and a shower of coral grains, a goatskin bag landed at her knees, and suddenly a man's shadow fell over her. She snatched the goatskin without hesitation, unplugging it and starting to drink thirstily.

For all of a second. Rather than pure, sweet water, the "liquid" in the bag was a rancid curdled milk mixture. She drank it a mouthful at a time, despite the fact that the taste made her want to choke it all back up. Her body demanded the moisture. When he started speaking, it was in the fluid, foreign tongue of the natives, and she couldn't understand what he was saying or what he wanted.

Her gear and staff were back a few paces behind him, but he hadn't removed the belt that held her rune pouch. Maybe he'd deemed the clay tablets insignificant, if he decided...

She looked up at the man and her eyes widened a fraction. This was the man from her flash of insight. The dangerous man out for blood. And in her curiosity, she had stumbled blindly into his clutches first. That minute of eye contact had made him paranoid, and made her a target.

He looked at her pointedly, demanding an answer, but she just shook her head. "I d'nae understand ye."


The foreign words coming out of the redhead's mouth were all the response Dhiren needed. He didn't wish needless harm upon an observant Fallien girl; no, such a girl could appreciate what he did and become his queen. But the Fallien girl would have understood him when he demanded her name and tribe.

Violently he kicked the skin of yogurt from her hands, sending it squirting out upon the sands. He kicked her again and again, sending her tumbling and not letting her drag herself away from him, however she might claw at the burning sands shifting under her silk-clad body. However she might scurry like a rat from the dread karuku-tal, she could not escape the force of his justice.

His attack was relentless, even if he was just warming up.

The force of his repeated kicks slamming into her chest, back, and exposed abdomen winded Karuka, but the pain of it all quickly blurred into one ignorable mass as her will to survive kicked in and she hurried over the coarse red sand one desperate hand at a time to get to her weapon. The pouch of runes at her side was useless with her so directly under attack, and she wasn't strong enough to match her assailant in a fist fight.

Finally, a particularly brutal kick shoved her within reach of the smooth grip of her staff, and she grabbed onto it desperately. A wild, hard swing connected with Dhiren's knee, forcing him down for a moment. Karuka gladly used that moment to regain her feet, bursting from the ground like an explosion, with sand flying off of her and her sides and battered belly heaving in an effort to consume more of the painfully dry air. Where the dark skinned Fallien man had been relentless in his attack for cruelty's sake, the redheaded Celtic lass lashed out at him again before he could get up because she knew if he went on the offensive again, she wouldn't get another crack at him.

Blow after blow fell with all the force she could muster; she wasn't fighting. She was beating him in the same way she might attack a serpent in her path. The only thing that kept her from breaking his head open like a melon was the fact his arms had lifted to protect it. Slowly, despite the force of her barrage, Dhiren rose to his feet, although his right knee nearly buckled when he first put weight on it. Desperation fueled the last blow he allowed the waif to get in before he wrested her staff from her grip and swung it at her, landing a glancing blow on her shoulder.

With a curse, he flung the weapon aside and lifted his hands. Before the girl could take a step one way or another, her feet were encased in sand, and no matter how she struggled, it kept rising inexorably to consume her. It would burn its way up her body and then crush her in an instant. She would be food for the scorpions.

When Karuka found that she couldn't free herself, she did the last thing she could do in a bid for survival: reach into her rune pouch. Of course, the curious, warm little orb she'd found the night before got in her way, and she tossed it to her right hand, continuing to fumble around in the little leather bag with her left until her fingers grabbed hold of a single tablet.

The sand had already crawled its way up her legs, and she snatched her hand away from the ever-mounting pile of sand that sought to be her final grave. The rune that had come to hand was a little wedge shaped one; the only one she could use this far out in the middle of nowhere. She bit her thumb roughly, ignoring the flash of pain when blood spurted from the wound and onto her rune. Then, as the burning sands climbed up her back and abdomen, she took a deep breath and started the prayer that she hoped would save her life.

[Karuka]

The sand had made it all the way up to her neck by the time she'd finished the prayer, but she forced away the doubts that choked the last, necessary word in her throat and trained her eyes on her would-be killer, clenching her rune tightly in her hand and focusing her will to give this spell everything she had left.

"Ken." Her world went blurry white.


The fact that she was muttering was laughable to Dhiren, but if Outlanders had gods to pray to, he could let her make peace with hers before he killed her. That was the last mistake he was ever going to make. The last word of her prayer wasn't mumbled, it was spoken loudly and clearly, with all the force of a command. He'd been a fool, in his arrogance, to not recognize her as a spellcaster working her magic. Too late, he realized that prayers don't use blood.

Fire burst out from the artificial dune surrounding the girl, blowing it off of her in a spray of glittering glass shards and freeing her entirely. Her blue eyes glowed brilliant sapphire, and her skin and hair shone brighter than the sun, brilliant fire colors that made his blood run cold. His eyes darted down to the orb in her free hand. A phoenix egg.

He didn't know how an Outlander had come across something so incredibly rare and precious. A female phoenix wouldn't even lay one egg every five hundred year life time. They were so rare that some thought they didn't, that they just continued to die and be reborn in flame. But this rare egg had chosen this flame colored woman, and the firmamancer could only cower before her as she opened her mouth to speak - words not of herself, but of the desert...of the gods of the desert themselves.

"You have defiled this desert." The voice wasn't the girl's, it resonated through the desert and into his very soul. A caustic wind started up around the flame-wrapped redhead, fluttering her skirt and making her hair flow around her head.

"These are the words of the goddess Suravani, who has seen your treachery and brought you here to end it. Not all Outlanders will be good for Fallien, but they will not all be bad. I have brought the Jya to power for a reason, and I smile upon her actions and decisions. You cannot purify that which is not contaminated."

She raised her hand, and before the trembling man could plead for his life, he was engulfed and consumed by fires hotter than the sun's wrath.

[Karuka]

Karuka's vision cleared and she lowered her hand, gasping for breath. She didn't know what had just happened, but the charred corpse in front of her told her that the spell had worked in a bigger way than she'd ever expected it to. She took a step forward and nearly stumbled. The heat had gotten to her, she needed to cool down fast, and there wasn't any shade in the vast expanse of golden red dunes for as far as her eyes could see.

Putting her fire rune back into its pouch, Karuka looked around for her satchel. Fortunately, it hadn't landed too far away, and she crunched through the thin layer of glass on the ground to go get it. When she had it, she nearly ripped it open, grabbing her goat skin from within and swallowing mouthful after mouthful of warm but life-sustaining water.

She had to force herself to not drain the entire skin; she didn't know how long she'd be stuck out in the desert. Rather than remain in her luxurious but impractical silk garb, she pulled out the cotton outfit from the day before, getting into it quickly and covering her head with the cloth wrap, which she dampened. She was still hot, but at least the sun couldn't ravage her body directly anymore.

After she'd tucked the little red orb safely into her bag, tucked in a pile of bandages, she grabbed her staff and started trudging the long way back to Irrakam, guided only by her pendulum.


Night had fallen in all its wondrous coolness by the time Karuka, weary and dehydrated nearly to the point of delirium, dragged her weary carcass back into Irrakam. She hurt all over from the beating she'd taken, and she wanted nothing more than to drink her fill of cold water and crawl into a bed. She didn't know if Storm was looking for her or if he was even still in the city, but that didn't matter too much.

When she found a bench, Karuka settled into it gratefully. The hard, cool stone under her weary legs felt wonderful, and a sigh escaped the girl's lips. She took her chance to rest for a minute, but then she'd go on and search for a room.

She was so tired that she barely noticed a man in Elven robes settle in beside her. "They say Fallien can be rough on outsiders."

"Ay, jus' a wee bit. But many nations ha' a hard time t' accept what's diff'rent." The redhead didn't so much as open her eyes.

"Your accent is interesting. Are you Dheath?"

She considered telling him the truth, but having been to Dheathain recently, she decided to just nod and let him believe it. That would be the easy way, and no one on Althanas knew about Ireland anyway.

"You have an unusual complexion for a Dheath girl."

"Ay."

The stranger let the silence hang for a few moments, looking the girl over. She wasn't the sort of person he would normally pick for any sort of task, no matter how simple. She was too young, too human, and despite the weariness that lined her face, he could see that she was far too brash. But the fact he would never choose her would drive others from her trail.

"Would you be interested in going to Raiaera?"

Karuka opened her eyes to look at the Elf. His dark eyes shone with a peculiar intelligence from beneath the well-groomed black mane that was tied at the nape of his neck. "Why?"

"There is a delivery that I haven't the time to make myself. A very important delivery that a man waiting at Istien is waiting for. I will give you the means to get there, and see you off on the boat."

"An' who would I be givin' this t'?"

"A man with black hair and eyes, waiting at the gates of Istien." He didn't want to tell her the name. The thought of approaching a man such as Damon Kaosi could be intimidating for almost anyone.

Karuka looked out on the darkened streets of Irrakam. She'd never been to Raiaera before. Perhaps there she could find what she'd come to Fallien seeking - that which she had failed to find in the harsh land of sand and sun.

"Ay. I'll go."

"Excellent." The Elven man stood up, reaching out and helping the lass to her feet. "This is what you will be delivering." He gave her a small box of liviol wood with silver decorations. "Now, let's get you rehydrated."


~*~*~

The next morning saw Karuka on a small cargo ship bound out of Fallien to Raiaera. She hadn't seen Storm again, hadn't gotten to say goodbye...but she wouldn't be forgetting him soon. The night before last, with a charming smile and mischief dancing in his gray-blue eyes, he'd given her back the necklace with the little jade charm she'd thrown back in his face. It would be a good, if ironic, memento.

One last glance back at the fading red sands behind her and she turned her face forward. Dharma only traveled one direction.

Spoils request: the Phoenix egg, due to hatch much later than this in Karuka's storyline and the jade necklace Storm gave her in this post (http://www.althanas.com/world/showpost.php?p=86411&postcount=15) in the original Pleasure Doing Business. I've been working for the egg for two quests, and the first scored a 64.

[Taskmienster]

PDB: Pyrotechnics and Peril


STORY (20.5/30)

~ Continuity ~ 6.5
Generally well done, as you explained a little bit more and more as you went through the first half of the posts, it still felt like there were little things missing. For someone not familiar with this story, it would have been very hard to follow at first. Questions of Karaka/Storm together, what happened to make them feel the way they do towards each other, and others rise to mind. As well as what the purpose of the thread is from the opening till the end, and how well you wrote it out as you went.

~ Setting ~ 6
I didn’t really know what time of day it was, or why people weren’t around till almost the 9th post. Till that point the setting was somewhat hard to figure out, though mostly because there was so much other story being portrayed.

~ Pacing ~ 8



CHARACTER (23.5/30)

~ Dialogue ~ 7.5

~ Action~ 8

~ Persona ~ 8



WRITING STYLE (22/30)

~ Technique ~ 7.5
Karuka: A couple times you slipped into what felt like a lower diction for storytelling, nothing huge though.

Storm:
“The girl was nowhere to be found, and his search seemed fruitless. She was nowhere to be found; nowhere to in sight.” [4] ~ ‘was nowhere to be found’ was the opening to both sentences, and after the semi-colon you had ‘nowhere to in sight’… probably just accidentally threw in the ‘to’.

~ Mechanics ~ 7

~ Clarity ~ 7.5


WILD CARD!!! 7


TOTAL

(73/100)


GAINS/REWARDS!

Spoils granted.

Karuka: 3000 exp | 0 gold for spoil
Storm: 2176 exp | 150 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

Karuak's level 8!
Storm's level 10!

Congrats both!