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Post by Devorah on Apr 4, 2012 2:22:18 GMT -6
The sun bathed the city of Bulgar in noonday-heat as the streets pulsed with merchants from Ilia, Bern, and Sacae alike. While a decent amount of people lived and worked within the city limits, making a living off of the constant stream of retailers and travelers that passed through en route to other cities, many knew business in Bulgar was dependent on how many were traveling through on any given day. Merchants needed to make money and good trades to survive, so if the trade wasn’t in Bulgar, they weren’t there either.
Thankfully, though, today the streets were packed with vendors and traveling merchants alike. Prices for everything from wheat to pearls were being called through the streets, while busy people pushed past one another in the streets. It was wholly understandable, them not noticing the average-sized Sacaen native trying to avoid being shoved by the bustling populace. Having just arrived in town, Devorah was a dazed by the sheer amount of people around her. While she part of her wished she could go back to her tribe, the brown-haired woman was proud to be on her pilgrimage, the final stage of a woman’s training to becoming a warrior.
While there was a slight emptiness in her stomach, Devorah wasn’t entirely sure where to go first, so he let herself follow the ebb and flow of the crowd until she was poured into the main marketplace. A mixture of tents, stalls, and carts were haphazardly arranged in the large city square, each of their attendants calling out their stall’s offerings. They seem so desperate, Devorah noted, her pace coming to a halt as her eyes glanced over the assortment of vendors. While she paused only for a moment or so, a large man barreled into the back of her. “Hey, watch it!” She stumbled forward, looking up with a scornful look on her face; unfortunately, the man simply kept on moving. She shook her head angrily and continued on, though now her eyes were searching for a lull in the current of the crowd.
Finally the Keskarvian woman found the opening she was looking for and slipped through, sliding into a small alley between two stone and mud-brick shops. She inhaled deeply, the bare skin on her back still slightly pulsing from where the man ran into her. In her moment of rest she felt her stomach roll and grumble, reminding Devorah of her hunger. “Great,” she mumbled, “I haven’t the slightest idea of where to go.” She leaned against the bumpy wall, her gaze falling to the ground and her long hair slipping over her shoulders to hang in front of her face like a veil. This is going to be a long three years…
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Post by Valcrist on Apr 4, 2012 15:57:42 GMT -6
Coming here again. It brought a strong feeling from his chest, one that he hadn't felt in so long. He missed his home, but somehow, seeing this place, it was nostalgic. This land he had traveled through so many times, the land that had confused him so much when he first arrived. Sacae with its grand plans and empty fields, where you must spend the night out under the open and starry skies. With it's many tribes, each one different, each on unique. The town were few and far between, but that only made each one more of a relief to weary eyes.
It was so different from his home, the land he spent almost his entire life living. Endless seas of sand, droughts that lasted months, even years. Sacae was a fertile land, trees, grass, flowers, they painted the land itself. Sacae wasn't just a strange country, it was almost a second home. Here he had learned how to wield a blade, it was here where he had his heart shattered and pieced back together again, it was Sacae where he met a few of his closest and only friends... It was a land full of memories, both painful and pleasant, and what home is complete without both?
He was in Bulgar once more, the largest city in all of Sacae. The midday sun seemed especially strong this day, filling Valcrist with a warmth that he loved. Leaving his overcoat open to let the sun bake his body, his thick undershirt switched out for a much thinner one that let the wind through and chill his body. He couldn't get rid of the scarf though, no matter how warm he was, it was a gift.
It was hard to walk anywhere without being called out and asking if you wish to buy whatever the merchant was hocking. Buy this, get that, their voices filled the air making a cacophony of sounds and voices that it was a challenge to pick one out of the crowd.
"You like like a man who enjoys a well polished blade!" One in particular somehow managed to rope Valcrist into his stall. He eyed the sword that hung from Valcrist's waist, the curved Nabatan blade that was undoubtedly exotic to many people. Meanwhile his wind blade remained in it's sheath on his back, and Fang stood at his other side. He must of looked like some kind of sword nut, carrying three separate blades at once... he kind of was, but it still wasn't a nice thing to say.
"Well, yeah I suppose I do." Somehow he was buying into it.
"Well, this polishing powder..." He held up a small sack with it's drawstrings pulled tight, he held it in the air like he was teasing a cat with a toy, shaking it every few second. "Will ensure your blades never go dull again."
He thought it over for a second, him mind toying with the possibility. Shaking his head, he let out a small sigh. "No thanks." Walking away before the man could let out a reply.
Ignoring the plies for him to return he thought about what he should check out next. He didn't have much money, but he couldn't just come to Bulgar and ignore the market. Though he was starting to grow hungry...
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Apr 4, 2012 18:53:15 GMT -6
OoC: I'm sorry, but a bit of innuendo popped into my mind, and Cen's a lot like me.
Ic: The tall Lycian walked around Bulgar for the fifth time this week. He'd stayed in Bulgar for a little bit, mostly running delivery for a baker and carpenter in exchange for room and board. He had come to like the smell of a big city, despite the negatives. With his lance on his shoulder he strolled around the city, looking for something to do. Then he saw her. Those thoughts seemed to go wrong in his mind, and he shook himself. The reason he distinguished her from the other Sacaen women, was the fact that she carried an axe, which was unusual for most Sacaens he'd met in the city. While he was looking, probably more than he should, a man bumped into her.
Cen was surprised to see the man simply take off, but he was already moving. Despite his humble origin, he was somewhat of a gentleman, in the way he treated people at the least. He smiled lightly as he asked, "Are you alright ma'am?" He cursed inwardly as he heard the farmer in him poke through for a second.
OoC: It'd be funny, if sense their sprites are Sue based, Valcrist had trouble talking to Devorah based off her looking like Chelsea.
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Post by Devorah on Apr 4, 2012 23:37:02 GMT -6
OoC: It’s fine, ^_^
A curtain of mahogany obscuring her vision, Devorah jumped when a male voice sounded near her. Part of her thought it might have been a question so someone else, with all of these people around, but as she whipped her gaze upward she was surprised to see the question was directed at her. She straightened up, pushing her hair out of her face with her left hand and letting her right rest on her hip.
“I’m fine; I can handle myself, you know,” she said curtly, her brow furrowing sullenly. She gave the man a once over, and she had to admit, he looked like he knew how to fight, what with his green armor and his spear propped on his shoulder. She had heard stories of men like this from her mentors in the warrior camp, how they wore metal armor for protection but couldn’t move quickly like the Keskarvians. The man had exposed points, sure, but nothing like the Keskarvian men and women she trained with; Devorah felt her knees instinctively bend ever so slightly at the sight and thought of the man.
Stop, Devorah closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, catching the way she was thinking and acting towards the man. You’re acting like he’s about to take a stab at you with that lance when he probably just wants to know you’re okay. She opened her eyes again, her features softening as a small sheepish smile appeared. “Sorry,” Devorah shook her head, “I’m being short. This city is just so full of people... I’m not used to all of this.” She hoped her initial abrasiveness wouldn’t turn the man away; she could definitely use someone who knew the city better than her.
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Post by Valcrist on Apr 5, 2012 0:35:55 GMT -6
Sacae was always so full of Sacaens. The funny thing was, Sacae's biggest city seemed to have so few of them. There were merchants, traders, travelers, Bernese refugees, Ilian soldiers, Etrurian blasphemers, Lycian wanderers, but there was so few Sacaen tribesmen. Sure, the people who live here are just as Sacaen as even the most solitary tribe. They weren't the same though, not what you expect when you hear the word 'Sacaen'. They were a few here of course, but most seemed to shun the city, and prefer their own ways, sending a sole member or two to conduct trade. You don't go around, seeing Sacaen warriors littering the streets like drunk cats.
That's why she caught his eye.
He wasn't obvious about it, or atleast he liked to think he wasn't, he was fairly good at hiding his presence from years of timid interactions where people simply seemed to forget he even existed. She was talking to a man, one who physically looked like he has seen battle before. He stood like a soldier, even if he his self wasn't dressed like one. It was his stance, Valcrist could pick a warrior out of a crowd from a mile away. An acute eye for details that most people miss, how a person stands, how a person moves, how a person was built, how muscles gather when one is a career fighter as opposed to a laborer. They were all there, subconsciously, and it was Valcrists eye as an artist that let him realize these things.
He was curious, you could say. Or maybe he felt ashamed after his latest encounter with a tribe of Sacaens, how he fought and slew them for an army he didn't even belong to. For a cause he didn't believe in. Maybe he wanted to make it up to them, through this girl he didn't even know. Or maybe he was just a creeper? That was probably it. They weren't loud. Or really talking at all, only a few words from him and then a few words from her. Still he didn't want to interrupt them. What could he say anyways? 'oh hey I just saw you and for no reason decided to stalk you, wanna chat?'
So instead he was content to watch quietly, poking his head from around the corner of the wall. People were probably watching him by now, he could feel their eyes pressing up against him. Judging him. Thinking he was creepy.
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Apr 5, 2012 17:40:50 GMT -6
Cen smiled, "Well compared to me it's hard not to be short. Bah the way, I didn't catch your name ma'am. I'm Cen, from Cornwell in Lycia." He wasn't sure if she would have heard of Cornwell since some of the Sacaen merchants who traded in Lycia didn't know. Most people honestly didn't know about any of the lands other than Ostia or the other few major holdings. Cen's home fiefdom was obsolete compared to the heap of stone the had once been the ruling seat of Lycia. Not that he cared, Cornwell didn't want his family, he didn't want Cornwell. At least, not that much.
Cen smiled as the girls stomach rumbled. He rubbed his shoulder with his left hand, "If you're hungry, I know a baker who owes me a favor or two."
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Post by Devorah on Apr 6, 2012 14:40:15 GMT -6
Devorah raised an eyebrow as Cen mentioned his hometown, the Keskarivian warrior being completely clueless of this man’s place of origin. While she knew the surrounding countries’ names from her mother’s lessons, she hadn’t the slightest idea what “Cornwell” was. That must be his tribe, Devorah assumed, excited that she was talking to a man from a tribe in another country. While she was curious as to why Cornwell’s warriors wore metal that slowed them down, she was more curious to know what his tribe looked like. Maybe they have tents bigger than ours... or maybe they have mud-brick and stone buildings bigger than these, Devorah thought excitedly; now that would be something to see. Maybe their tribe doesn’t even move around...
“Devorah of tribe Keskarvio,” the warrior replied, though her mind was focused on his voice now. His inflections were so... curious, so different from the way the men from her tribe spoke. Maybe the Sacaen woman had just left her tribe for her pilgrimage, but remembering everything she would be able to see excited her for her future out and about in the world. Maybe there were cities as tall as the sky, or homes that were larger than her family’s tent. The thought was foreign, to say the least, but Devorah felt the excitement building in her chest; she wanted to see it all.
Caught up in her thoughts of the giant world around her, Devorah almost didn’t realize he was offering to take her somewhere to get something to eat. Her eyes lit up, a smile now gracing her features. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Cen of tribe Cornwell.” She ran her hands over the front of her skirt, straightening it out as she waited for Cen to begin to lead the way.
However, before he could, a strange feeling washed over the Keskarvian. For some reason, she started to feel uncomfortable, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. Her training and instincts told her to do two things. First, her right hand moved to rest on the top of her axe, readying her just in case someone was approaching for an attack. Second, she whipped her head around, looking behind her to see if she could spot anything. And it was the second instinct that caused her to see the blonde hair and tanned head whose eyes were staring straight at her and Cen. “Hey,” she felt herself yell, turning on her heel and heading down the alley,“Hey!”
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Post by Valcrist on Apr 6, 2012 16:07:16 GMT -6
They seem to just be talking about nothing. He couldn't really hear, he wasn't close enough, and he was by no means a lip reader. Though that would be a handy skill, how would you go about learning something like that? Do you just have to pay attention to someone's lips while they talk? That's kind of creepy, if you think about it. Then again Valcrist was set in his 'don't look at them at all while you're talking' school, and especially not in the eyes, unless you want them to take a sledgehammer to whatever self confidence you seemed to have mustered up. Or maybe that was just him. It was probably just him.
Nothing seems to be happening. He should just leave, his curiosity forever unsated, but it wasn't important, whoever this person was she was coming at him with an axe. "Wait wait wait!" He hopped out of his hiding spot, waving his hands in front of his self frantically as he was trying to clear the air of this awkward tension. He failed. His fingers moved through it like molasses, and only succeeded in spreading it everywhere and now look at what you've done Valcrist you made such a mess you got your awkward everywhere. "N-no need for that. Heheh." He forgot how a laugh was supposed to sound like, so he forced out some horrible imitation that sounded closer to the death throes of a dying crow then any sign of jubiliee.
"I'm, er, Valcrist. You don't need to pull out your axe. I was just curious, I get curious a lot you see I can't help it it's a real flaw of mine, and I noticed you were a sacaen warrior and I thought that it was kind of odd because there's not that many Sacaen warriors in this town, it's mostly just a lot of traders and the warriors only show up when accompanying one but your weren't with any traders as far as I knew and I found it interesting so I was watching you and I'm sorry if I bothered you so I'll just go and leave you alone." Way to go Valcrist, you should be in charge of not looking like a stalker. He took a heavy breath after spewing all those words so quickly. "I didn't mean to bother you. You seemed busy, so I was just kind of watching." He tried again, choosing his words more wisely. "I was just curious is all, I didn't want to alarm you."
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Apr 6, 2012 18:55:50 GMT -6
The second the girl said her tribe name, he was lost for a second. He couldn't remember the first part of her tribe name by the time she finished, and he was extremely afraid of mispronouncing it and offending her. She didn't seem to know much about the outside world, she referred to his city as a tribe. It was funny, he was probably younger than her, but he knew at least a little more about the world outside of his life.
Cen smiled as she said yes, and had begun to extend his arm to escort her, once again gentleman, but then something else that caught the young ladies attention. She took off down an alley, and Cen followed. It seemed some guy had been staring at them the entire conversation. Well probably just Devorah, he didn't see why he'd have been a subject of the mans vision. Still, the thought was unsettling. The man didn't seem like the peeping Tom kind of guy, in fact he seemed genuinely sorry about it. Cen leaned lightly on his lance, and said in as light a tone possible to attempt to calm the situation, "Ah don't think he meant anything bah-by it Devorah."
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Post by Devorah on Apr 11, 2012 13:36:41 GMT -6
The Sacaen slowed to a halt as the hiding man revealed himself, hands waving in defense of his actions. Reasons spilled from his lips like blood from a fallen enemy, and while Devorah was still suspicious, she simply crossed her arms and looked him over as he spoke, much like she would have examined a potential sparring companion. It was strange that the man seemed so timid towards her, especially since he was up to his neck in swords. He must be skilled with the blade if he keeps all of those with him, she thought, intrigue slowly replacing her initial hostility.
"Ah don't think he meant anything bah-by it Devorah." Her gaze still focused on Valcrist’s armaments, the brown-haired woman had to wonder if the man was right. His response certainly implied that he hadn’t expected her to react the way she did. She sighed, looking back at Cen for a moment. She could tell from the calm but somewhat nervous look on his face that he was hoping the conflict would dissipate. And, to be fair, what Valcrist said was true: Devorah hadn’t seen another warrior in the town, and her style of dress was one that definitely would garner attention.
“It’s fine,” Devorah started, turning from Cen to look Valcrist in the eye. “I’m just a bit... jumpy still, I guess.” She lowered her hand from her waist to rest casually at her side, while her other pushed her long hair behind her shoulder. “I am Devorah of tribe Keskarvio, and I’ve just arrived here so I’m not used to, ah, how things work.” She probably should have thrown in an apology but instead decided on something different. “You know, if you’re curious you can come with Cen of tribe Cornwell and I; we were about to get something to eat.” Maybe it was a bit forward, but she still interested by the man because of the amount of weapons he was carrying. “I could tell you more about why I’m here,” Devorah’s lips softly formed into a small smile, “and you could tell me about all of those swords you have.”
OoC: Sorry the reply is so late, have been busy with family and new computer stuff, posts will be more consistent from now on.
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Post by Valcrist on Apr 11, 2012 14:32:34 GMT -6
He flinched slightly as she looked right into his eyes with hesitation, she was a confident individual. Well more confident then him, he didn't look away, but he looked a bit shock for a moment while he fumbled for words. "Keskarvio? Hm... I can't say I'm familiar with that tribe..." He spoke with a soundless laugh, but the truth was that he also couldn't say he's never heard of it. Big tribes in Sacae tend to get noticed, because of how scattered and small most tribes tend to be. Anything with more then one hundred member is considered large really, and Keskarvio was a large tribe. The girl wore tattoos that he could only describe as 'nomadic' but Keskarvio probably wasn't the only tribe who did that.
Breaking away from his chain of thought, he grinned with a somewhat tense smile, but wouldn't let that stop him. "I'm Valcrist, like I said. Vacrist Terris." He introduced his self a bit more properly, hopefully to erase that first impression he made which is probably a forgone conclusion at this point, but it didn't hurt to try. "I'm a blacksmith." He preferred to introduce his self as a blacksmith instead of a swordsman, especially since it seems he's been doing more blacksmithing then fighting lately. It was kind of funny, when he first left Koroda, he was hesitant to call his self anything, much less a blacksmith. He's grown much much better since he left, he's gained knowledge and skill in his craft, and while there is much room to grow he felt comfortable with the title of blacksmith. Now, swordsman is what he has to work on...
So she was interested in his weapons? That shouldn't come as a surprise with the way he totes them around without any abandon, but somehow it still did, and somehow he felt a bit embarrassed. However, being embarrassed didn't effect him nearly as much as it used to, probably because it just happened to him so much that it's become second nature. Happy and embarrassed, sad and embarrassed, unconfrontational and embarrassed, the list goes on and on until it piles on the floor and rolls out the door.
Now, there were plenty of reasons for him to decline this offer. Reason one, she almost drew an axe on him. Still that was kind of his fault for being a creeper. "I suppose I can, I was actually kinda hungry anyways. I can treat us, if you like, as an apology." He had a bit of pocket change from his days at the army still rolling around in his pouch, enough to feed three people at least. As long as they didn't go and buy lobsters or something. "It's nice to meet you Devorah of Keskarvio, you as well Cen." He assumed his name wasn't really 'Cen of Cornwall' since Cornwall was a lycian town and they don't do the whole tribe thing. Still if Cen hasn't said anything, it's not his place to correct her. He wanted to get through this with what little self image he still had intact. People don't particularly like it when you correct their grammar, or correct them in general.
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Apr 12, 2012 8:46:40 GMT -6
Cen nodded his head at the greeting. Usually a greeting came before a conversation, but Cen wouldn't question. HE cleared his throat, "No need, Ah-I was going to take Miss Devorah here to a place we don't need to pay." Well that sounded cheap of you, Cen thought. He shrugged it off and turned, figuring Devorah wouldn't want his arm now. He almost offered it to Valcrist as a joke, but he felt a little tension still in the air and decided that wouldn't be the bet thing to do.
He arrived at the shop, right as the man was handing a customer a loaf of bread. HE moaned as he saw Cen and said, "If you expect me to feed these two, you'll get nothing but bread." Cen smiled, knowing that wasn't true, and sat at the table. He quickly remembered his manners, and pulled out a chair for the young lady to sit. The bakers wife trudged out of the kitchen with three bowls and a pot, and poured stew for the three younger people without a word. Cen smiled up at her, just quick enough to see her shoot an angry look at her husband. He quickly added bread to the trios meal.
Cen turned to Valcrist and said, "Excuse me if it offends you, but where are you from sir? You're darker than anyone I've seen before."
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Post by Valcrist on Apr 13, 2012 17:01:28 GMT -6
Someplace where he could get a free meal? That was smart, you needed to be frugal, a lesson that was sometimes wasted on Valcrist as he demanded constant high quality drawing papers and charcoals and inks and paints, it really burnt a hole in whatever semblance of a budget he had, but he loved his art too much to just stop it. Maybe it reminded him of home, maybe it calmed his nerves, or maybe he was just weird, but when he drew, painted, smithed, he felt calm. He could get completely engrossed in his work, the little nagging voices in his head taunting him and jabbing at him that he can't do it, that it will turn out a failure, they get silenced. Even if he failed, even if the result was awful, he could never truly say it was a waste. Now if only he could feel that way about people.
Cen lead them to a place, where a somewhat unhappy looking man was handing out breads to a man who appeared quite peckish. Valcrist had an uneasy smile on his face as the man grumbled about Cen's company, feeling like a third wheel. He should pay for his self at the least, he wasn't exactly a prideful man, but he didn't like to accept charity when he wasn't in need of it. That was just wasting other people time, money, and food. Funny considering how he just lauding Cen's frugality, and now he's denying it for his self.
Cen pulled out a chair for Devorah, but Valcrist seated his self. A woman, older looking but warm in her face. A rosy complexion and the beginnings of lines on her face that showed that she was one who smiled often, she placed several bowls in front of the group and poured some sort of hearty stew inside. "Thank you ma'am." Valcrist smiled and nodded at the woman, but she was preoccupied with the man in front of the store. Defeated, he came buy and gave them some bread as well to add to the small meal.
Valcrist ripped off a bit of the bread, soft, and put it in his mouth. Cen asked something of him, and he put on a small smile. After swallowing, and while breaking off another bit of the bread he spoke offhand. "I'm from Nabata. Don't worry, I'm not offended. I get that question all the time."
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Post by Devorah on Apr 13, 2012 18:31:45 GMT -6
Devorah's grin widened into a smile when Valcrist said he would join them for a meal. While she had been ready to attack him just a few moments ago, Devorah wasn't one to harbor grudges. In fact, most members of her tribe weren't much for lengthening conflict unless it was completely necessary, which rarely happened. True anger was something that was reserved for extreme situations, and even then most quarrels were dropped before someone could even be involved long enough to brood about it. While Devorah could clearly be very angry at times, she was always taught to save it for a fight.
It was interesting to the brown-haired Sacaen to hear Valcrist introduce himself as a blacksmith, and the first thing she wondered was if he had made all of those swords he was wearing. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to wonder for long, as he accepted her rather forward invitation to have a meal with them. She wasn't really worried about whether or not Cen would mind the other person coming with them, as Devorah was more interested in getting something to eat and also talking to the both of them.
"Well, let's go then!" Devorah looked back to Cen again after he made mention of her and his previous plans, knowing he would lead them to the baker where they would eat. While Devorah started to reach her hand out to grab Cen's, he turned and started to lead the two of them. The Keskarvan was a bit confused as it was common practice in her tribe to be led by the hand to an unknown place, but she figured that wasn't what people in Cen's tribe did. She put her hand down, her smile fading slightly as she simply followed the armored man to their destination.
Devorah's jaw dropped the moment they entered the bakery, as the woman had never seen so much food in one place in her life. The smell of yeast and baking bread overwhelmed her, reminding the tribeswoman of her mother's tent back at her tribe. She looked around wide-eyed, barely making it to the table to where Cen had pulled the chair out for her. Still shocked, she gave him a slow nod with a slightly agape smile and lowered herself down on the chair. She continued to look around, admiring the solid walls and basking in the smells until stew and bread showed up. She snapped herself out of her trance and looked up to the couple who had served them. "Thank you," she smiled, quickly dipping the bread into the stew and taking a large bite. She closed her eyes for a moment as she chewed, happy as the soggy bread melted in her mouth.
Cen's question was one Devorah had been wondering about as well, but Valcrist's answer wasn't somewhere she had ever heard of. Because of this, she tried to receive clarification. "I've never heard of that place... but your tribe name is Terris, yes?" Devorah had never heard anyone introduce himself as he had with two names, but she assumed it was simply her tribe, as she had heard the leaders of her tribe introduce themselves as their name followed by Keskarvio when they were occasionally visited by outsiders.
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Cen
Cavalier
Cowards die many deaths, the valiant taste of death but once.
Posts: 196
Profession: Bodyguard
Affinity: Light
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Post by Cen on Apr 15, 2012 20:15:03 GMT -6
Cen sat back as Valcrist told him where he was from. Nabata, what a far off place. He remembered stories an old man in Cornwell had once told him. The only people in the desert were dragons. There were dragons in a city defended by a giant whirlwind. He had been there once, when he went with a full exploration crew. He'd been the only one to survive. But he'd been a younger man then, then he sighed and asked Cen for a coin. Cen gave him one hoping he'd spend it on something that didn't hurt his mind further. It was just the yammering of a crazy old man. He doubted Valcrist was lieing, he sounded truthful.
Cen smiled after eating a bit of bread dipped in stew. Devorah really knew little of the outside world. He tried to answer a string of questions he assumed would be asked. "Devorah, miss, most people outside of Sacae don't consider their allegiance owed to a tribe, but to an entire land. For most people, it's a country. For me, it'd be the Marquess, kind of like a chief, of the territory."
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