Log: Operation New Start Mission 2
From FiranMUX
Back in Ellish: The Prince General Argin Elianik and a small detachment have approached the northern gate for the second time in a row. Some soldiers grumble about the idea of the Prince General himself going into the maw of chaos that lays beyond, others say to prepare a bath for Argin--he likes to get bloody.
It seems relatively peaceful inside the north gate from what you can see. Citizens carrying on their daily lives, albeit with a sense of lawlessness. It looks a lot like the Old City in there, truth be told, with some thugs on the corners, and little kids who should be in school running around wild. The gate guard looks at Argin expectently. "We drop food over this gate every other day or so. You want to drop something or should I just open it. They might all rush out. They tried that once."
"If they rush out, they'll meet a wall of swords and iron," Argin says to the gate guard, putting a hand on the hilt of his sheathed weapon. "But we're trying to make nice, so toss a bag of apples over or something, and then open them up." See? Argin can be diplomatic. He looks around at the rest of the crew. "Don't kill anyone unless you have to."
Anorna watches through the gates as she did all of today. Her eyes are trained on faces and people, trying to pick out those she might recognize by any far shot. There's a flighty part of her that is qualmed, and so, Anorna remains dutifully by Rikon's side, waiting until her services are needed. She keeps her dog by her side, but then shoows him off towards the barracks.
Aldrin has never seen the Old City, or the inside of Ellish, so soaks in the unusual sight with those soulful eyes of his. "Yes Sir!" He exclaims at the order, and moves over to Nyla's side as they await entry. *Firan*
Argin peers sidelong at Anorna, the former slave. "If you try to run off, I'll kill you myself. Just so we're clear." *Firan*
Oh-so-casually, Rinzik fingers the straps securing his spear in quick-release fashion, and then brushes his fingertips over the bow that is his primary weapon. Arms filled with weapons! All set!
Anorna stops her shooing for a whole moment and stares at Argin.
Rikon raises a brow at Argin. "She is not going anywhere." *Firan*
Karana doesn't exactly look like the killing type, in any case, though she has a very.. peaceful look upon her face. She observes the guard carefully, guaging, almost as if preparing to get her skill in high gear. Occasionally, she'll offer one of the wild children a wiggle of her fingers and a friendly, motherly smile, before straightening, looking toward the gates.
Rodiste clears his throat, his shocking blue eyes flickering around a little bit. "Clear, sir." before casting a sideways glance towards Anorna. *Firan*
The Third Division does as commanded, and lowers a big cartful of apples over the gate, which the little kids rush up and grab. They look well fed, the little urchins, but they are stuffing their pockets full as fast as they can. Then, slowly, the guards open the gate. . .
Argin nods toward Rikon, "Alright. I'm just saying...." But then the gates are opening. *Firan*
Anorna shrinks some and takes a big step behind Rikon.
Nyla glances over at Aldrin, and nods reassuringly at him once, But then the gates are going to be opened. She lifts her chin to the orders. "Yes, Sir." *Firan*
Ellish: Vasaloo Shops
This part of the city seems extremely well trafficked, and so this
perhaps is why the shops that line the road on all sides of the
intersection seem so busy at all hours. The shops themselves all seem
to belong to the Vasaloo family, or so the markings on the building
bear out.
Leaves crunch underfoot as a chill wind whips through and around the
buildings here, glinting in shades of orange, yellow and red in the
daylight.
Anorna stays behind Rikon the whole time, but as soon as she is inside of the city proper, she swells up with emotion and puts a hand over her mouth to keep from meeping or otherwise making a loud noise. Her eyes flicker up and down the street, but mostly keeps her focus up towards the east, where her old home is. She tugs on Rikon's arm some and whispers to him excitedly.
"Greenies!" some kid yells as the gates open, and a bunch of people scatter. Some citizens shut their shutters closed tight. Others jealously guard their goods. Shop doors slam.
Argin marches through the opening gates at the head of the Republic detachment. It's a mismatched group of tough looking soldiers, tree hugging hippies, and former slaves. Oh, and one Chief Wizard. Ignore her. The prince keeps one hand on his sword, but the weapons stays sheathed. He looks suspicious as they advance, eyes darting to and fro as the children scurry about stuffing apples in their pockets. "Tell Thalon... Thalos... Or whatever his name is, that Prince Argin Elianik is here for a visit!" he calls. *Firan*
Anorna looks to Argin, wondering if he wants that translated!
Aldrin has the look of a tourist finally getting to see a famous city as he moves with the Republic group. With a bundle of javelins across one shoulder the Bear Royal turns in circles from time to time to better see the sights. "Greenies. I like that." The Trickster inside of his says to the person closest to him, Lady Nyla Teranzik. *Firan*
Argin nods toward Anorna and waves a hand forward, indicating that she should translate that.
Rodiste heads up the back of the detachment; hand on his sword and shocking blue eyes flickering around. The fiery-red bearded Hydran noble soldier looks ever alert as he scopes out the rag-tag group near the entrance; he doesn't speak.
Various Firan-looking slaves crane their necks from around corners and overturned carts to look at the Prince. "He's their warlord of the north!" someone hisses. A little boy turns to a little girl and says, "But he looks just like the rest of them. Where is his gold?"
Anorna calls out in her native tongue, which is not besmirched with any sort of Firan accent, "Prince General Argin wishes to speak to Thalos!" Who knew those would be her first words back home. *Shamibelian*
Rikon looks absolutely the same as before, with no particular awe or nostalgia directed at the place. He does comment softly to Anorna as occasional asides, but otherwise watches those around them.
Karana looks about, watching the people, murmuring softly to Nyla, before looking toward any people that approach. She takes a very slight step foward, leaning on her quarterstaff for support. She's the greenie of the greenies, that's for sure. She watches the children particularly for the moment.
Nyla returns Aldrin's comment cooly, and merely keeps walking. Of course, it's the stuff of history to actually be treading these streets (and not a slave), but she maintains her position somewhere to the middle of the group, and her eyes move smoothly and frequently about to catch nuances of the surroudings, and the population.
Aldrin isn't a soft-headed tourist of course, he's a sneaky Bear, and when he turns in circles gawking at the scenery it's the reported snipers he's really looking for.
Nyla nods briefly to Karana and murmurs a short reply.
Where yesterday the faces were pretty hostile, there's open curiosity today. Twice in a row the Greenies have opened the gate, and the mish-mash of citizenry here sense change in the air. This used to be part of the vast Vasaloo plantation, worked by slaves. It looks now as if the Vasaloos have bugged out, leaving tattooed former slaves of every clan and nation to pick over the spoils.
Argin casts a sidelong glance at the jabbering children and makes a scary face at them. He doesn't like children. "Scat!" he barks. "Make yourselves useful and fetch an adult. The grownups need to talk!" *Firan*
After a few moment, Thalos enters from the East. He moves at a leisurely pace and notes the group. There is a bit of swagger in his step, and the other roughians in the market place grin at Thalos. He seems to be respected, perhaps feared - either way he has charisma, if anything else. He glances at his man, Mattik, and a few others, "Hello boys...is this the group from the North who wishes to meet?" He regards the group and then speaks, "Which one of you is in charge? Hopefully, it isn't one of those women." Thalos moves closer to the strangers, "Ah, so, you are the ones who have camped to the north. You all are a noisy lot, with those small wolves."
Anorna whispers with Rikon when she's done her part. She waits for another slave to respond back to her, looking out over the children curiously. She's already marked them as Vasaloo slaves and presses her lips together. Vettles and Vasaloos. They never did play nicely. "Anyone?...know Thalos?" Ah, and then there he is. Anorna steps back once more, leaving her translating be for now. *Shamibelian*
Quiet, with a wary, reserved air, Rinzik keeps hands free and loose, quite ready to go for a weapon, if need be -- but mostly, he looks. He watches those shop doors and shutters for the people behind them, and regards those who remain in the open, particularly as Thalos makes his appearance.
Karana can't help but chuckle softly to herself, tilting her head a little as her eyes take in the man, his second, then the others. She does nothing to hide her observations, a curious, small grin on her lips.
"We like to make our presence known," Argin replies as Thalos approaches. There's a moment of silence as the prince takes stock of the mafia boss. He eyes him head to toe, and then snorts. Clearly, he's not very impressed. "I'm in charge. I was told you wished to speak with me." He gestures widely, indicating the city. "Well, I am here now. What shall we speak of?"
Argin would also gesture for Anorna to translate what he's saying, assuming Thalos is speaking something besides Firan.
Nyla devotes a goodly amount of time to studying Thalos and Mattik, and his other cohorts, her aloof gaze taking in aspects of their features with a placid, almost bored expression. And then they wander on again, looking at some of the signs over the shop doors, and whether she can see people peeking between the cracks in the shutters to watch.
Some of the children do scat, as Argin says, but they keep a close eye on the group, some of them staring at Rinzik, who might overhear one of them say, "Do as the prince says, or he'll take us away from mommy. They'll take us away."
Anorna repeats all of that as she looks over Thalos curiously, "The Prince General says that -- would like to make --- presense ----- and he was told you wish to speak to --- man in charge. He says here he is and what would you like to speak about." *Shamibelian*
Aldrin turns that cool Ista Aldrik stare next to Thalos' lieutenant(s), doing some sizing up of his own. "See the clever sign?" He asks of Nyla, Bear sarcasm at it's best, pointing at the warning. *Firan*
While everyone else remains busy and Argin is himself, Rikon just looks at Thalos and then Mattik in turn. Needing no translation, he follows along.
A few of the oldsters from an upstairs window are pointing at Anorna. "Vettle runaway," one of them mouths to another. The other seems to deny it.
Karana murmurs soft prayers to herself, idly, her eyes moving between the men, reading them, as it were.
As his gaze roams, Rinzik catches the staring children and returns the study a moment with his brand of terribly serious intensity, as though this were a war zone instead of -- oh, wait. No. It kind of is. Then his nose wrinkles at the children, just a tiiiny little bit: it is either the Hydran version of making faces at them, or some other sort of smothered expression. He can't be /that/ much older than some of them. His attention moves on, following the direction of scattered children for universally anxious mother-types.
Anorna looks up at the window and frowns some. She squints to try and see who the heck that is and mutters, "I didn't run away." *Shamibelian*
Thalos looks over shoulder and then back to Argin, "And you are?" He places his hands on his hips and considers Argin for a long moment, and then looks to Anorna, "Prince General, eh?" He clearly shows that he speaks a little of both languages, "I think we'll get down to it. We appreciate all the supplies that you have been handing to us over the wall. I figured one day, someone would actually get around to opening the gates. It is lucky for you, you found us. You see, we -- " He gestures around the area, "The Eesani gang we are the backbone of the city. We make certain the supplies get sold to the various folks throughout the city. There are other groups with leaders, but sell to anyone who has things to trade, we take towers or even your currency - even a good slave or two. It's been good for us and good for business. We have good standing with all the groups, and we figure we have things that you need. Now, if you come in here all sand in your craw to test your grit, then you will find life very difficult. There are goodly number of services that you can purchase from us, for a price, of course."
Nyla looks where Aldrin points, and her right eyebrow arches. "Charming," she agrees, letting her eyes wander again. They pass over groups of men, former slaves, disdainfully, and never fasten there: it's unclear whether she caught the bent of their mutterings and meaningful glances, or not. *Firan*
Rodiste glares at little children and anyone else that looks at him. He doesn't look overly friendly in Warrior mode and his eyes remain on one of the ones that called out to Anorna before returning finally to Thalos. Rodiste doesn't look like he particularly trusts Thalos, judging by the surfacing look of incredulity but he listens to him intently none-the-less. Occasionally, Rodiste glances over his own shoulder since he's at the back of the group.
Karana starts a bit at the name of the gang, tilting her head. She leans forward, peering at Thalos a bit closer, hmmming softly to herself. She takes half a step forward, pursing her lips, though her soft smile quickly replaces it. She steps over to Rikon, murmuring softly.
Anorna looks worried where she stands and whispers quietly to Rikon, looking back up at the ones that were pointing at her earlier. But, whatever is whispered back to her makes her look reproached, and she just goes back to staring at those in the window until it is time to translate again.
Rikon stares at Anorna before whispering a reply to Karana; to glean non-verbals from his demeanor or expression is difficult.
Argin seems to be listening attentively enough. At least he's not playing grabass with the nearest attractive maiden, like he does during most social events at home. "And we are interested in purchasing a number of those services," Argin replies. "This is a Firan city now, as it was years ago, but we are not in the business of displacing its people or even disrupting your daily life more than is necessary. Those supplies we've been throwing over the wall have doubtlessly allowed you to construct this little empire you run..." He looks around briefly. "I can respect someone that takes an opportunity. We offer a continuation of those supplies, along with other, more tangible things. Currency, as you mentioned. Medical supplies. Raw materials. Things I'm certain you could use. The details can be handled by my officers." He gestures toward Rikon, Rinzik, and Rodiste in turn. "But first and foremost, we want free travel in this portion of the city. We want access to your forges. And we want two or three sizable buildings to use as we please. Housing for soldiers and the like." *Firan*
Karana smiles softly and nods, murmuring again. "Ahh, yes, of course. Thank you, m'Lord." She steps back away to her spot, her observations returning to Thalos, then flit to Mattik, still listening to the conversation. *Firan*
Anorna looks between Argin and Thalos and remains quiet for now.
Second of the three Rs, Rinzik lifts his chin when indicated. He has his very best Serious Face in place.
The Third of the Three R's, N'Gato Stylez, jerks his chin up towards Thalos and remains with his hand on the hilt of his short sword. Rodiste watches Thalos intently.
Rikon was already looking at Thalos when indicated by Argin, and so it remains. He does look at Mattik just as often, though.
Nyla appears to be considering Thalos dispassionately from the secondary line, and her mouth settles into something of a thoughtful frown. She steps forward to murmur something to Rikon, then steps back again, and leans over to Karana.
Anorna still keeps quiet, but is still trying to see what dirty little Vasaloo slave called her out.
Thalos considers Argin's words, "That makes no nevermind about a Firan city or a Shamibelian city. The Eesanis are in it for us. To give you room here and down that way, that upsets the balance of what we have got. What we do have we have a lot. We have knowledge what lies to the south and beyond - historical documents." He purses his lips, "We want armor and weapons. We have a good deal from our other business efforts, but we always can use them." Thalos considers something else, "If you truly want to occupy our market, then we'll need hundred thousand of your currency per day - plus 50 plots of land to be distributed amongst the Eesani gangs, for our lives after this mess is over, assuming you are successful."
A military messenger boy, looking quite terrified to be even just past the gates on his own, comes slinking in and starts to tug on Argin's armor before deciding that's not smart, and so he whispers into Rodiste's ear instead.
With so much attention going towards Thalos and Mattik, Aldrin resumes his watch of goings on around them at their flanks and rear.
Rodiste snorts, from the back of the group, as he hears Thalos' offer; and then nods to the military messenger and motions him to step closer and share quietly.
Not quite so blatant in his disbelief as Rodiste, Rinzik is nevertheless of similar opinion at Thalos's offer. His nose wrinkles slightly, with a tiny downwards twitch of already frowning lips. Pls.
Rikon simply nods at the man's words, sparing only conference for his ex-slave sponsoree.
Karana tilts her head a bit at the extravagent sum and she chuckes softly, coughing into her hand, amused, rather than horrified at the request. She shakes her head and sighs. She pulls a doll from her backpack and holds it in the crook of her arm, looking around for any of the wild children running about.
Rodiste slowly makes his way to the front of the group; standing behind Argin and whispering quietly to him.
"And I imagine that if we stopped throwing supplies over the walls, it might 'upset your balance' quite a bit," Argin replies. He points toward the north gate. "I am not above laying waste to this entire portion of the city if I must, but I would prefer to avoid stacking up the bodies of civilian and soldier alike if a more equitable solution can be reached." He pauses. "We will not give you armor and weapons, but we can give you materials used for such things. Leather. Wood. Flint. Tools." The prince looks around in a theatrical manner. "How's the hunting in here? Not too good, I imagine, unless you can boil the leather you make from rat hides." He chuckles. "We can offer you skilled artisans to teach your people how to craft their own tools and so forth. We can improve your quality of life and allow you to continue your strong-arm of the other factions in this city, if you choose to go down that path. Or there is the alternative." He gestures again toward the gate, and the armies beyond. "Fifty thousand stenis a week for the first month. We'll renegotiate after that."
Anorna listens to Rikon and gives up on searching the windows for that punk Vasaloo. Instead, she goes back to talking quietly with her sponsor until she's needed to translate again.
Karana moves to Rinzik and murmurs to him, as she looks about for the children, occasionally flickering a glance at the gang.
Karana whispers "Their offer isn't serious. They're trying to guage how desperate we are, and how we'll react. They know they'll never get that stupidly ridiculous amount. They're testing us." *Firan*
Rodiste takes a step back; slowly and carefully taking up position at the back of the detachment.
Argin nods to something Rodiste says, and seems to respond with affirmation.
Rinzik listens to Karana -- somewhat stiffly, it must be said, holding himself as though he'd like to keep a certain amount of distance between them even when just speaking, but still! He listens. He gives a slight nod, and then drops a word higher up the food chain.
Rikon turns away from Anorna to nod at Aldrin. He does not resume his hushed conversation.
Anorna stares at Thalos, waiting to see what he will do. As everyone whispers to everyone else, she becomes a bit nervous and pulls on her armor.
You whisper "Unsurprisingly, the, uh, High Priestess thinks the offer isn't serious. They are just judging how desperate we are. It's a test." to Argin. *Firan*
Aldrin walks up to Rikon and talks quietly to the man, returning the nod before going back to his 'scenic viewing'. Tricksy Bear.
You sense Argin nods, "My counter offer was rather pathetic and vague. We'll see what he says."
Argin nods toward Rinzik and says something quietly, eyes remaining on Thalos.
A spattering apple hits Aldrin on the back of the head. *splat* The giggle of children can be heard.
Luckily for Rikon, Aldrin had moved away after whispering. He shakes his head at the sight of his distant cousin splattered with rotten fruit. "An act of war, I think," he utters dryly.
Aldrin is oddly enough the sort to be amused by such a prank, and though the apple chunks are too small to be properly thrown back at the children, the elfin noble does however take a wooden sword from his backpack and wing the toy towards the brats. A Present for fellow pranksters! It's even in cool Republic green.
Aldrin drops the Republic Wooden Sword.
Nyla listens to Aldrin's whisper and her neck muscles clench slightly, as if she makes some kind of specific effort. But then an apple hits his head, bits of it splashing onto her helm so close by as well, and she wrinkles her nose and can be distracted a bit. She turns to look in the direction it flew from, letting her eyes scan over the windows as she goes.
Thalos scratches his head and chuckles, "This one has balls the size of an elephants..." He looks back at Argin, "Was there a miscommunication? How much do you think you really know about this city? About the FFI? About the Freedom Fighters? About the Resistance? You think we can't get our own supplies?" Thalos gestures to the gate, "You can try to bring in your hordes into this city, and you will be fighting for a long, long time. You will find poisoned water wells from the priests or you will find a roof fall in on your from the Civvies. Not to mention, the ones who go around at night and strip the flesh off of living." He shivers at the thought, "I will give you a special offer, last one, too, two hundred thousand a week, 20 plots of lands and weapons and armor."
A bunch of children come out of the woodwork to scoop up Aldrin's gift. A cool wooden sword, which can be used for play, or to beat down the old slaves from other factions who won't wait their turn in line for food.
Anorna looks back to Argin to see what he will do.
Karana watches Aldrin and chuckles to herself, nodding once, and moves to pull a flute out of her backpack. "If it is war, my Lord, allow me to be the front line, then." She settles, doll in one arm, flute in her hand, other wrapped around her quarterstaff lightly. She looks at Thalos and blinks a little bit. She straightens, her amusement gone and she sets her jaw a little bit. Then... she laughs again. *Firan*
Afra lifts her head in a stance of disdain and fingers her weapon. "Yesterday they spoke of wanting to meet with the leaders. We can arrange such a meeting. It is worth more than you are asking of them--how would they even find the leaders otherwise?" She lets out a mocking laugh with an air of superiority that only a former Bonduin slave can pull off. Anorna in particular would be rather familiar with that particular brand of Bonduin Hauteur.
Anorna is frowning at Karana, but she does look to Afra when she speaks and watches the woman distantly. Really, she's paying more attention to her sponsor now than anyone else.
Ah yes, sweet hordes of children causing anarchy, it's enough to make Aldrin smile, just a little. Saluting the courageous child that ends up with the wooden sword, the Ista Aldrik goes back to observing the area; focusing not on Thalos' obvious soldiers but those more inclined to be crafty.
The kidlet with the sword actually copies Aldrin's salute before getting whacked by a nearby woman and dragged off. Cultural progress, one step at a time.
"You think I don't know this?" Argin retorts. "If I thought sweeping through this city and simply claiming everything would be easy, then we wouldn't be standing here right now, and you'd already be dead. It is a headache I wish to avoid, but do not mistake my willingness to negotiate for an unwilling to do the dirty work." He smiles faintly at Thalos. "I assure you, I'm quite well versed in doing the dirty work." He pauses, considering a counteroffer. "One hundred thousand a week, and 10 plots of -rented- land, free of charge. We'll renegotiate monthly." He looks at those nearest Thalos, then. Mattik, in particular. "Or perhaps I'm dealing with the wrong man. Perhaps one of your lieutenants can see the wisdom in my offer, and how it would be more profitable than continuing things as they are." He looks southwest. "If you are truly such a master of this domain, then why don't you speak for the entire city? You have shown me a loose hold on one fourth of this whole pie, Mer. With our help, you could be more than the commander few streets with crumbling houses." He looks again to Mattik. "Or, someone else could be more."
Afra snorts. "Bold promises from this one. Just like the Firan General Donos promised us we were free, and then locked us in this city. Can't trust Greenies. In fact, Thalos, get what he says in writing otherwise he will come back tomorrow and say he never promised you a single tower."
Thalos looks behind him at Mattik, "Mattik? Are you thinking of pitting yourself against me. While I like the uptake, I just can't have anyone disloyal." Thalos reaches up and touches his nose and he flicks his head to Mattik. Mattik's face freezes, but he doesn't utter a breath before three arrows strike his body - one through the throat, "Poor Mattik. Now." Thalos turns back to Argin, "Get one of your scroll people to draft. Two hundred thousand stenis per week and 10 plots of "owned" land, oh great liberator."
Mattik, a Firan is looking like the walking dead. Mattik, Shami Slave collapses on the ground, becoming motionless. Mattik, a Firan twitches one last time, then is still.
Karana blinks, stumbling a bit at that. "What... why... no...." She sets her jaw and she looks at Thalos, narrowing her eyes slightly. *Firan*
Aldrin is certainly hoping he can tell where those arrows came from, and looks with great intensity.
Nyla's lips part and she exhales through them with a puff of startled breath, but aside from that she doesn't move, focusing her attention on Thalos' other 'next in command's' to see how they react.
Rikon does not look terribly surprised at this turn of events, and nods at Anorna.
Rodiste smirks a bit; hand drawing out his sword halfway as he glances around alertly. He doesn't wield; but he's close.
The Bonduin woman, Afra, immediately stoops to start stripping the dead Mattik of his boots and clothes. Anyone who looks at her gets a shrug. "What? He isn't using them now."
Argin seems vaguely amused - and perhaps intrigued - with the efficiency that Thalos demonstrates by having Mattik killed. There's a moment of silence in which the prince makes a motion toward Karana, clearly indicating that she should be the one to draw up the contract. "If you want 'owned' land, then the ten plots will be wherever /we/ choose. If you want rented land, they will be side-by-side, your choice, ten plots of the most prime farming and hunting land you can get your hands on." Argin isn't about to usher in the second coming of Lord Pangaros. *Firan*
Rikon is fairly zoned; this is one of those moments when his general lack of perception hurts him. But as Aldrin stops by, he nods and mutters back.
Aldrin has another quiet talk with Rikon; javelin-throwers have to stick togther and all.
Thalos grins, "Very well. Let's get our our agreement in place." He looks at Mattik's body, "Did you see that Mattik? Oh, I guess you didn't, because you were stupid." There seems to be a general nod of agreement from other locals in the vicinity. There might even be a little silent laughter, "That will ten plots of owned land when you get yourselves established."
Anorna stares at Thalos and frowns just faintly.
Aldrin says something quietly that must amuse the elf-like young man, because he laughs. "Right." He adds with a nod before steping back and going back to his observational duties. *Firan*
Karana straightens up, nodding simply to Argin, forcing all emotion away from her face. Her gaze is steady on Thalos and she murmurs to the Prince.
Rikon gives Aldrin a morbid quip before returning ihs attention to the negotiation.
"The Greenies are coming in? They're staying?" someone wants to know. There's a mixed tone of anticipation and dread. "Are they going to send us to Shamibel? Have they freed our masters?" Someone folds his arms and says, "I ain't ever going to bear another brand. I'll die before I do." Someone else laughs and says, "Like any new master would want an old hag like you!"
Karana nods once and turns, moving back to beckon a runner over. "I need scrolls, ink. Five should be plenty. Go see Arinsana or the Firanosian Priest." She doesn't actually say Omiak's name... just in case. *Firan*
Anorna listens to the slaves and sighs in a homesick way.
Argin can't /quite/ stifle his own amused grin as Thalos mocks Mattik's corpse. But then again, maybe the prince is just grinning because they've reached an agreement. "The deeds will be drawn up and sent after I send for the proper paperwork from our capital city, Anarinuell." He nods once toward Karana, "But we will sign the agreement here and now, before your eyes, so that you know we speak the truth." He looks around at the mess of children and various other citizenry, "And since you exert such flawless command over all that is yours, I am certain we'll have your assurances that none of your people will attack my soldiers. Yes?" *Firan*
A woman in need?! Aldrin is there, "I have some scrolls High Priestess." The young man says with a polite inclination of his head, offering Karana a small supply of scrolls and ink.
Karana dips her head to Aldrin, respectfully, taking the scrolls. She takes one, and starts to write up a draft. She takes slow, deep breaths as she does so, but otherwise simply doesn't react. Every so often, she looks up at Thalos, regarding him, then back down to the scroll. If there's nothing to write on, she has no problem sitting on the ground to do it.
Looking around his city block, Thalos nods, "Good. That's right, but you will probably get raided from the others around here." He shouts, "All right, listen up, you guys! Spread the word that the Greeners are under our protection while inside our blocks. If they are stupid enough to wander off on their own, they'll be ON THEIR OWN. Someone go find my brother and tell him, too." With that Thalos says, "Welcome to Ellish, Prince General. Now, you will want to keep yourselves here in the market or to the East. I have an estate there that you can use. Just keep the pigs out of it."
Anorna asks, "An estate?" *Shamibelian*
Karana looks up for just a moment. "Prince General, what sum of stenis was finally agreed upon?" *Firan*
Aldrin thinks . . o O ( I wonder if they've ever played poker... muaha. )
Anorna looks up towards the northeast, wondering if said "estate" is her old home or not. Her brows knit together in worry and concern and she looks back to Thalos for an answer.
Nyla looks thoughtful, then looks over at Aldrin and tips her head slightly.
Rodiste has a tight smirk on his face as he watches the proceedings. The Hydran Warrior doesn't seem to like Thalos very much. The noble soldier makes his way up towards the front again to stare at Thalos as the negotiation appears to be completed and then nods as Argin whispers something to him.
Something Thalos says causes Argin to speak quietly with Rodiste for a moment. At length, he nods toward the gang boss. "Good. We have an agreement." He turns toward the group of Firans, then. "Two hundred thousand per week. We'll be renegotiating on a monthly basis," he says to Karana. "Lord Rodiste, send out orders that the soldiers are free to traverse this area of the city, but not beyond. I want three-man patrols, minimum, and they are to leave the citizens alone. I want maps of every square inch."
Thalos looks at Anorna, "That would be the old Vasaloo place - what is left of it. This isn't a very tidy city; so, you will never know what to expect." He peers at her, "You know this place, woman?"
Aldrin inclines his head to Nyla, then makes a point to wave his hand at one of the archers that was trying to stay undetected in a nearby window. "Good evening!" The Trickster calls out. *Firan*
Anorna nods her head to Thalos and responds simply with a, "Yes, I do." She doesn't give away who she is, but someone in a window already marked her as a Vettle. *Shamibelian*
Afra leans in and whispers something to Thalon along the lines of, "Runaway Vettle slave girl. I can tell just by looking."
Anorna frowns at Afra and bristles some, "I did not run away." She states for the second time, her blue eyes meeting the Bonduin's just momentarily. Something Rikon whispers to her makes her a little bit angrier, but she doesn't let him see that. *Shamibelian*
Nyla marks the surrounding area thoughtfully, a particularly close eye being kept on Afra.
Karana writes out a single draft of the agreement, in both Firan and Shamibelian, word for word, handing it over to Argin to peruse.
Rodiste nods to Argin, "Yes, sir." and takes a step back. *Firan*
From somewhere nearby, you hear a male voice shout, "Where?"
Since Thalos has said that the Greenies can roam through here, the children almost immediately mob the Firan soldiers. "You got towers? Can we see your warsticks?" One of the kids reaches for Rodiste's weapon. "You're an evil priestess, aren't you?" one of them asks Karana. "Can you zap things with your hands? Are your evil gods going to try to take our tower, because Obala will kill you, you know."
Rodiste snorts at the kid reaching out for his weapon, "Don't get yourself hurt, boy." and glares at him with those shocking blue eyes. *Firan*
Rinzik's lips twitch, just slightly, as Karana is labeled an evil priestess. He doesn't exactly seem to disagree, by his expression, but he looks past the children toward adults, remaining tense.
Anorna keeps her eyes carefully trained on Afra, as if not backing down from the Bonduin's claims. She is used to tiffs between Bonduin slaves and Firan slaves, and on top of that, Vasaloo slaves and Vettle slaves. Her little hands ball up into fists, and she distantly hears the children ask a bunch of silly questions, which doesn't pull her attention away from the Bonduin just yet.
Thalos looks back at Afra and shrugs, "She did come back after all. Maybe she came to join up with us?" He considers Anorna and leers. Thalos looks to Argin, "This language seems to be riddled with double speak. If you break this contract because you feel like, then there will a lot to answer for." Thalos signs the contract.
Afra nods, without lowering her chin. It's quite a feat. Only Bonduin slaves can do it. She addresses Anorna, "Little Vettle slave girl, who did you belong to. Let me see your mark?"
Karana winces at the child's question, and clearly, there's a look of fear that crosses her face. She motions to her robes and smiles, forcing it, trying to regain her focus on the contract. "I am a Priestess, yes, darling. I am the High Priestess of our Patron God. His name is Firanos. Our gods do not need to zap things, though... not usually." She whispers, in a semi-silly, conspiratorily tone. "Only when people are really naughty... but shhhh, that's a secret." *Firan*
Argin doesn't like children, but does seem somewhat amused by a few of the questions. He looks toward Thalos, "Contracts and such things are the weapons of the educated man. I would not expect you to understand completely, but have no fear. We are not cheating you. It would not be profitable for either of us." Argin lays a little bit of the nobility pimp hand down. *Firan*
The kids crowding about Karana, all oooh and ahh. "She has secrets. See, she is an evil sorceress! Who ever heard of a _good_ god giving power to a woman?"
Rodiste continues to glare at the little kid for a while longer; checking to see if there is any Warrior in his soul. The Hydran leaves his hand on the hilt of the sword the kid found so interesting.
Unfortunately for Rodiste, one of the little girls grabs his blade. "How many slaves do you have?" she asks him.
Anorna frowns and then almost spits out, "I belonged to War ---- Ruffialo, Slave Master, Son of..." She pauses a moment and remembers, "Master Rulat." As for the mark, she doesn't bother to show hers. Her Master should be enough. Okay, maybe she's getting a little testy. "The Vettle family - most powerful of Ellish." Or, at least they were when Anorna left. *Shamibelian*
Rinzik winces. Girl cooties.
Ahhh mission accomplished. It's time for a nice cup of tea. Ok, so it's not a great cup of tea, cold and being poured from a waterskin... but Aldrin raises it and says, "Here's to you Lord Uncle." Thinking of Donos of course, and letting the tea splash down onto the ground to honor the man now that he's been able to set foot in Ellish himself.
Anorna defensivly blurts a whisper back to Rikon too.
Rodiste growls angrily; snapping back his sword that the little girl TOUCHED as his bellows loudly. "NONE!" to the little girl! *Firan*
Afra lifts her chin _even higher_ and sneers down at Anorna. "Oh, how the Vettles fled. Hralib was gone before the Greenies even took the gates. Long gone with that Firan cow whore of his, Throgana. All the Vettles _run_. Though Ruffialo, he was always weak for a master . . "
The little girl that Rodiste yells at begins to cry. Howl and cry and carry on!
Karana looks up at Rinzik and Rodiste, almost laughing. Almost. She looks at the children, shaking her head. "Darlings, darlings... ask any of these men and women. I doubt any of them would call me /evil/. Faith is different from the power you mean... I have the power to heal, the power to make people smile and feel good. And the power to make people stop being grumpy sometimes. But... don't worry, my sweetlings. We can talk later about such things. After all, I'm sure we'll be seeing much of each other." She wiggles her fingers and looks up to Argin. "Prince General, is that draft sufficient, or shall I draw up final copies?" *Firan*
Anorna glares at Afra and points a finger at her, "He --- /not/ a weak Master, you take that back!" And she can point a mean finger. She's only briefly distracted by the crying child, and she glares back at Rodiste, but then she remembers that she's throwing down with a Vasaloo and frowns back at Afra once more. " *Shamibelian*
Argin is mostly quiet, and listening. When Afra speaks of Hralib, the prince's eyes narrow and he says something quietly to Rodiste.
Nyla has relatively little patience for kids, but she looks down upon them with an air of resigned indifference, only placing her hand so they cannot get anywhere close to her arrows, or her bow. "What kind of warsticks do you have?" she asks the closest boy, instead. "The boys at home love playing war games." *Firan*
Argin peruses the draft and then nods toward Karana, "That will be fine." *Firan*
Rodiste seems pleased that the little girl cries; and offers an ear to Argin and then nods as he glances around the rag-tag gang of bandits. The fiery-red bearded Hydra stares at Afra and Thalos; contemplating.
Unfortunately, the other children aren't happy that the little girl is crying. They are pointing and speaking in Shamibelian, and before long a group of older boys come running towards Rodiste. "You made my sister cry!" Apples are in their hands, ready to be launched.
Aldrin gets himself a good seat to watch the havok. Now this is entertainment!
Argin does not seem prepared to intervene between Rodiste and the gang of children. On the contrary, the prince seems more curious as to what the Hydran lord will do.
Thalos looks amused at the exchange between Afra and Anorna. He looks back to Argin, "Now, you must be anxious. You will be meeting a lot of leaders. This place has been a perpetual blood bath." He points to the streets, "They aren't really that color normally." Thalos grins at the boys, "Boys, take it else where. Go run over to the walls to see what those Shamis are up to. It's about that time of the week for them to trade. Speaking of which, did your army want to purchase food and supplies?"
Anorna keeps her eyes trained on Afra...but she does lower her finger. She's waiting for the Bonduin hag to take back what was said about her Master.
Karana nods to Argin and returns her attention to the children. She whispers a soft prayer to Firanos, shutting her eyes for a moment, either trying not to cry, or trying not to laugh. She smooths out her robe and dusts off her hands, taking just a step away from the group, to look over the surrounding area.
Nyla gasps as she feels a tug about her waist, and, looking down, goes about as white as death. "WHO TOOK THAT?" she demands, raising her voice into as commanding an impersonation of an Ista Aldrik as she can manage. "Your Thalos granted us passage, and pilfering belongings is not part of that bargain!" She's furious. *Firan*
Nyla stares into the ring of pushing, shoving children, staring them down one by one.
Afra is a former Bonduin Slave. She is not going to apologize to anyone who isn't a Shamibelian. She is constitutionally incapable. Instead, she is amused by how easy Anorna is to rile. She comes closer. "I am told Ruffialo did try to escape the city, but that he may have met up with some civvies on his way . . . do you think he made it, little slave girl? Or do you think he is now waiting for the Day of Judgment when Obala will make him rise?"
Rodiste stares at the gang of kidlets that surrounds him! The iron-armored soldier spins his gaze around him as the older boys come up towards him. He doesn't flinch at the apple-wielding banditos, "Better listen to Thalos, boys. Better luck next -----" and set his jaw as he watches them disperse. *Shamibelian*
The boys look decidedly disappointed, throw their apples, then run off as Thalos instructed. Rodiste smells like cider!
"We look forward to meeting them," Argin replies to Thalos, moving his attention away from Rodiste and his recently adopted children. On the subject of trade, the prince scratches his chin, looking non-committal to the best of his ability. "We could use a few extra things if they're available," he says with a shrug. "Meat, hay, and wool. We can always find a use for iron and bronze if you have it." He waits to see what Thalon has to offer.
The sight of Ellish's steets, the people, mixed in with Nyla on the warpath, makes Aldrin think out-loud, "I wish Lord Talikos was here. He'd love to paint this."
Argin lifts a brow at Aldrin, and perhaps makes a mental note about how he needs to brawl and drink more.
Karana perks up a bit. "Oh, Prince Argin, may I make a suggestion? ONce we've secured the area, maybe our new... associates might like to learn Tackleball? We could form an impromptu league and, maybe foster relations? And, obviously, relieve some stress and make some bets? Now, it might not be fair, but they /might/ be able to keep up..." There's slight challenge in her tone, offering an almost innocent look. *Firan*
Thalos feigns innocent look and says modestly, "The document isn't signed, yet. We technically do not have a binding agreement, woman. You must see that these are just practicing is all. Boys will be boys." He turns back to Argin, "Well, I will dry up a list. We managed to wrestle the majority of the storehouses in the south of town. There will have to be a fee for retrieval, because there is a great deal of risk passing through hostile territory."
Anorna doesn't back off, not in the face of her Master's name. Her blue eyes stare down into Afra's and she responds back, trying not to spit on the Vasaloo slave as she does so, "My Master is a /War Lord/; they do --- flee dishonorably. -- if he is dead, he died as a --- ---- and ------- less. And --- are /no one/ to say otherwise." Of course, Anorna is in no state to throw down with Afra physically...not like if she was in any state too, she could anyway - but still! She stands her ground the best she can, all five feet of her. *Shamibelian*
Argh! Rodiste catches a couple of apples from the punk kids! "You little rots! I'll catch you!" and he stutter-steps once at them as they run off and then turns back towards the main group and brushes off the spare-apple the rests on one of his shoulders. "Bah." is all he grunts to his Firan companions. He has a look like he expects them all to be laughing on the inside.
Argin nods toward Thalos, "Or, I could offer you armed Republic soldiers as an escort." He nods sidelong toward Karana, "That sounds like a fine project for the children to become involved in. Perhaps something the Temple of Kamnestra can see to." Because Argin doesn't like children. *Firan*
Karana nods simply. "Well, for the soldiers too... given time, of course." She just plants the seed for controlled competition so people don't go insane and try to chase after apple throwing brats. Not that that happens. *Firan*
Nyla watches one little brat dart off, a steni here and there falling from between his clenched hands, but no sight of her little silk pouch. She ignores him, and instead looks at the others still looking about. "Who has the pouch?" she demands of the kids again, more forcefully. "I will make you a trade for it." *Firan*
Karana shuts her eyes and murmurs. "Firanos give me strenghth." She sighs a long suffering sigh and rubs her face. *Firan*
"Life gets more and more-- interested." Aldrin says, in that quirky way of talking he sometimes has. At the rumors of the Griffon's triumph he looks over to Thalos, wondering if that contract is excluse...
"We ain't snitches," someone says to Nyla.
Meanwhile, the Bonduin woman Afra looks at Anorna, sniffs, and then walks away, laughing the whole way.
Anorna glares and looks around her feet for a rock. It's then she notices Rodiste by her side and she mutters something back to him angrily, her little fists turning white from being held so tightly. "Vasaloo slaves." She mumbles and heads back to Rikon, her chin up.
At that moment, a child darts in from the south, huffing and puffing, "Thalos! Thalos! There's something HUGE going on at the southern gates, ANOTHER ARMY. Not Greenies." Thalos looks back to Argin, "I knew I should have asked for more money. What that all about?" He says with distrust.
Rikon shakes his head at Anorna. "I do not know either Vasaloo or Vettle," he replies. The child-messenger earns a raised brow. *Shamibelian*
Anorna looks back towards the other slaves and says quietly, "The Vasaloo's are - smaller family. The ------- are...were...the most powerful in the city. I...I do not ---- how ------ stand ----- now. But still. She had no right sayting that stuff." She tries to fluff up some to look bigger than she is, "Brat." *Shamibelian*
Argin looks distinctly annoyed at the news the child talking to Thalos brings. "That, would be the Griffon clan, being led by a former Republic officer who has recently been relieved of her duties. Years ago, when Ellish was a Firan city, it was owned by the Griffon clan. However, it was the Republic army which defeated the Shamibelians to take back this city, and it is the Republic which holds the authority to sigh contracts and make promises at this time. Lady Srenni Sennet, the current leader of that army, is acting beyond the boundaries of her authority." Argin pauses briefly before adding, "And her army is probably a tenth of the size of ours. That's why they couldn't take back this city without our-" Argin stops suddenly, looking over the crowd with shock written clearly on his face. It lasts only for a moment, though. "...Without our help," he finishes. *Firan*
"It isn't snitching, it's confessing, if you are the one who has it," Nyla points out dryly, her anger simmering down from its boiling point into a cold, burning sort of rage. "Now, let us make a bargain. I will trade a new perfume scent for the pouch, and its contents. I assure you it will be worth much more than the little bag is. You won't get a better price for it."
Rodiste glances south; squinting as he spies the flag being raised. The Hydran Warrior just sucks on the back of his teeth.
Marsilla, a Firan, steps forward shyly to Nyla. "Can I see the perfume? Vitaras wear perfume..."
Nyla looks at Marsilla appraisingly. "Can I see the pouch? One good-faith gesture should deserve another." *Firan*
"Hm," Rikon murmurs, then motions at Anorna. "Time for us to prepare to leave, I think."
Anorna nods her head and turns to follow Rikon out. She looks back at the slaves briefly, but doesn't do much more.
Thalos whistles lowly, "Well, in that part of the city, they have roughly sixty thousand citizens. How many troops did you bring?" He looks at Argin and considers, "I can imagine that the other factions will definitely want to meet with you, if you are going against them." A slow smile creeps across his face, Thalos says, "Well, let me know when you want to discuss the other folks of this city."
Marsilla shyly shows Nyla the pouch she stole.
As if Argin would reveal how many soldiers they brought. "We have enough for whatever situation may arise," he says simply. He doesn't specify who's going against who, either. "But yes, I would very much enjoy meeting these so-called leaders as soon as possible." Since there's apparently another 30 minutes before we quit for the night.
Nyla looks down at the pouch for a moment, and nods, exhaling slightly. "Thank you." Her tone is now gracious, if lined with steel, and she untoggles her backpack enough to reach in and locate two vials. Drawing it out, she shows it to the girl. "There are two scents. You may pick whichever one you think the finer." *Firan*
Marsilla offers the pouch in exchange for the perfume.
Nyla nods, accepting the bag and handing the little girl whichever perfume she pointed out.
Anorna passes by some of the children, idly checking to see if any of them are Vettle's by searching for any 'V' brands.
Aldrin walks over to stand with Nyla, always impressed by how absolutely clever the women of his Clan are. "Do we know any Griffons?" He asks, idely wishing it was the Ticanee that had invaded the other half of the city! *Firan*
A number of snarling dogs fight over Mattik's corpse.
Argin is maintaining a carefully constructed facade of neutrality while talk of the Griffons goes on. Not that he'd be tempted to turn them into a stain where the Griffon army /used/ to be right now. No, not at all.
Nyla contemplates the question idly, while tucking her pouch away someplace safe, after peeking inside to see it's all intact. Aside from the money bit. "Well, I'm sure we must." *Firan*
The dogs stir Rinzik from his silence, and he snaps a command at them to scatter. One dog is much like another, right?
Thalos nods, "You have your options, General. You have a lot of race related factions. You have the Vre. They are these big brutes from a place called Vreland. They absolutely hate the Bonduins, which have formed their own group. You have the Ticanee, too. They are all about the same size, fairly small." Thalos scratches at his arm, "You have the Civvies which are bunch of old men and women, but there are some strong fighters amongst them. They continually raid our stores. Don't tell anyone, but we sometimes give them a better deal. The really poor have that affect on me. You still have a very, very strong group of Shamibelians - the resistance. Those bastards have griffons and firebombs. They frequently bombard the southern part of the city where the Griffon Loyalists are. There are some other groups that call themselves the Freedom Fighters and you have one other."
Anorna stays by Rikon's side and stops looking at the children as Thalon speaks. She takes note of all of this and then tilts her head at the other group that he does not mention.
Rodiste glances off towards the east; and then over to Argin. "Should we move on and secure the perimeter, sir?" *Firan*
As Thalos speaks, Argin motions for Rodiste. Clearly, this is the sort of information they should take note of. "Hold off for a moment," he says to the Hydran lord. To Thalos, he looks expectant. "One other?" he asks.
"Of course you are going to secure the perimeter of this area," Rikon speaks to Rodiste. "Still no good place to put griffons, is there?"
As Thalos speaks, Argin motions for Rodiste. Clearly, this is the sort of information they should take note of. "Hold off for a moment," he says to the Hydran lord. To Thalos, he looks expectant. "One other?" he asks.
"Of course you are going to secure the perimeter of this area," Rikon speaks to Rodiste. "Still no good place to put griffons, is there?"
"Hey, Thalos! The Griffons are having gladiator games. If we get our carts out there quick-like we can make a fortune. A bunch of soldiers there too," a boy shouts. It seems that the gangers here have employed every rag-tag orphan in the city.
One can almost hear the roar of an arena where people actually fight to the death...
Rodiste glances to Rikon and then Argin; nodding and remaining quiet for the time being as he listens to the Ellish kid. He glances towards the south and the soft "Ahhhhh" of the games. *Firan*
Thalos looks distractedly back at the boy and then grins to Argin, "Well, there is profit to be made. Did you want to send some of your people down to see the event?"
Anorna sort of perks at the mention of a gladiator game, but she doesn't otherwise leave Rikon. She's stuck to him. Like glue.
Argin spins on his heel toward Rodiste, and points. "Go with him. Take whomever you want with you." The prince is looking more and more pissed off as the Griffons keep coming up. "You find her, and you tell her that I want to see her. In person. And if she is lucky, I will not break her neck with my bare hands." Rodiste should clearly know who Argin is referring to. *Firan*
Aldrin is so tempted to ask for a pass to go enjoy the games with Nyla... but... seeing Argin's reaction puts a damper on his plans.
Rodiste nods, "Yes, sir." and glances around at the rest of the Republic Delegation for any takers? *Firan*
"Oh, I think I will go," Rikon says. He motions to Anorna to follow.
Rodiste settles his eyes onto Rikon and grunts. "Perfect." *Firan*
Anorna blinks up at Rikon, but doesn't argue with him. She pulls at her armor and nods her head some to what he says. Looks like she's going to the good ol' gladiator games.
Nyla watches the proceedings, but seems to have no particular wish to go see these games. Or, possibly, get into the fracas that will probably ensue.
Rodiste glances up to Thalos as Rikon and Anorna move to join him.
