Raziel
07-14-07, 01:11 AM
((Closed to Haruzame))
Splash. Splash. Splash.
Raziel grinned wide as he stepped off the plank and onto solid ground. Finally out of Scrae Brae. Sigh. He swayed a little as he tried to steady himself with his unwavering sea legs. Already stumbling and I haven’t had a drink yet. Raziel grinned at his idea and plunged into his back pocket and withdrew his flask. With one flick of his wrist, the cap sailed off and fell into his cupped hand. He perched the flask on his lips and took one large swig of the golden firewater. The rum burned its way down his throat and warmed his body as it settled in his stomach. “Ahhh.” Raziel placed the flask back in its rightful position in his back pocket and continued down the path toward Gisela. In the distance he heard the creaking of the ferry as the waves rolled against it. He spun around and blew a kiss toward the blue horizon. “Until next time, my love.”
Raziel was good with many things: weather, navigating, chasing skirts, and drinking the entire crew of the trading vessel, Levi Biff, under the table. But one concept he never could grasp was saving his money earned, or unearned in various cases. Although he seemed to be doing a very good job at the time, “Only half of the payment that Wal gave me is left. That bastard! Only giving me half of the actual payment and leaving me with one of those damned pouches.” Raziel eyed the paper pouch that contains four ounces of pure cocaine; the pouch itself sat inside one of Raziel’s deepest pockets inside his sleeve. He eyed it like looking at it will spark his soul on fire and burn him from the inside out. He quickly closed his pocket and scanned the nearest individuals seeing if anyone looked suspicious, but again everyone looked suspicious to Raziel. He quickened his pace and passed inside the Gisela city limits.
Gisela is like many cities, various types of people all peddling their wares and sparking interest in the common-man. One man is flailing two pieces of fish around yelling at the customers as he pelts them with small chucks of fish. Another woman is threatening her customers if they don’t buy her wonderful leather purses and packs. Even stranger is a shady looking man whispering to men as they walked by. He approached Raziel, “Hey you look very lonely friend, my sister can cheer you up tonight.” Raziel grabbed the scum of society by his collar and tossed him down a back alley, “Get lost ya freak.” Raziel shook his head in disbelief but soon came to the realization that he hasn’t been laid in a while. Now shaking his head at his own pathetic life, he reached for his money pouch but stopped himself. “No, that needs to last me,” he saw how small his money bag looked, “I am so screwed.” He focused his thoughts on the mission at hand: Get more money, but his stomach soon interjected its opinion as well. A few travelers stared at Raziel as his stomach growled repeatedly. Shaking his head for a third time Raziel continued his trek through the streets of Gisela trying to find a certain bulletin board. But as Raziel’s luck is, he found the bulletin board in the middle of a food court. His stomach growled as if to direct him to the most delicious looking meal, but he ignored it and scanned the help-wanted ads. “Hmmm.” “Help Timmy fell down a well,” “Dancers need for certain night time fun,” “Creature is ruining my crops: Kill it.” Nothing worthwhile. Raziel was about to give up when he noticed a short ad near the top, “Help needed: Covert Job. Details will be given once job is accepted.” This ad could be described as vague, shady, with a hint of deadly; and Raziel loves everything about it. He quickly memorized the address and went to the near and cleanest individual and asked where the address is located. The kind citizen pointed Raziel in the right direction and Raziel started to skip his way to his new employer.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
Raziel grinned wide as he stepped off the plank and onto solid ground. Finally out of Scrae Brae. Sigh. He swayed a little as he tried to steady himself with his unwavering sea legs. Already stumbling and I haven’t had a drink yet. Raziel grinned at his idea and plunged into his back pocket and withdrew his flask. With one flick of his wrist, the cap sailed off and fell into his cupped hand. He perched the flask on his lips and took one large swig of the golden firewater. The rum burned its way down his throat and warmed his body as it settled in his stomach. “Ahhh.” Raziel placed the flask back in its rightful position in his back pocket and continued down the path toward Gisela. In the distance he heard the creaking of the ferry as the waves rolled against it. He spun around and blew a kiss toward the blue horizon. “Until next time, my love.”
Raziel was good with many things: weather, navigating, chasing skirts, and drinking the entire crew of the trading vessel, Levi Biff, under the table. But one concept he never could grasp was saving his money earned, or unearned in various cases. Although he seemed to be doing a very good job at the time, “Only half of the payment that Wal gave me is left. That bastard! Only giving me half of the actual payment and leaving me with one of those damned pouches.” Raziel eyed the paper pouch that contains four ounces of pure cocaine; the pouch itself sat inside one of Raziel’s deepest pockets inside his sleeve. He eyed it like looking at it will spark his soul on fire and burn him from the inside out. He quickly closed his pocket and scanned the nearest individuals seeing if anyone looked suspicious, but again everyone looked suspicious to Raziel. He quickened his pace and passed inside the Gisela city limits.
Gisela is like many cities, various types of people all peddling their wares and sparking interest in the common-man. One man is flailing two pieces of fish around yelling at the customers as he pelts them with small chucks of fish. Another woman is threatening her customers if they don’t buy her wonderful leather purses and packs. Even stranger is a shady looking man whispering to men as they walked by. He approached Raziel, “Hey you look very lonely friend, my sister can cheer you up tonight.” Raziel grabbed the scum of society by his collar and tossed him down a back alley, “Get lost ya freak.” Raziel shook his head in disbelief but soon came to the realization that he hasn’t been laid in a while. Now shaking his head at his own pathetic life, he reached for his money pouch but stopped himself. “No, that needs to last me,” he saw how small his money bag looked, “I am so screwed.” He focused his thoughts on the mission at hand: Get more money, but his stomach soon interjected its opinion as well. A few travelers stared at Raziel as his stomach growled repeatedly. Shaking his head for a third time Raziel continued his trek through the streets of Gisela trying to find a certain bulletin board. But as Raziel’s luck is, he found the bulletin board in the middle of a food court. His stomach growled as if to direct him to the most delicious looking meal, but he ignored it and scanned the help-wanted ads. “Hmmm.” “Help Timmy fell down a well,” “Dancers need for certain night time fun,” “Creature is ruining my crops: Kill it.” Nothing worthwhile. Raziel was about to give up when he noticed a short ad near the top, “Help needed: Covert Job. Details will be given once job is accepted.” This ad could be described as vague, shady, with a hint of deadly; and Raziel loves everything about it. He quickly memorized the address and went to the near and cleanest individual and asked where the address is located. The kind citizen pointed Raziel in the right direction and Raziel started to skip his way to his new employer.