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Post by Charlotte on Aug 29, 2015 22:13:59 GMT -6
The thugs, Frank especially, had not been prepared for the shirtless man’s attack, so when his jingling bells lunged forward, intent on causing targeted, vicious damage to Frank, the man’s lackeys did all but stumble back with frightened yells. And if she’d been a jumpier individual, Charlotte likely would have too; she moved away, of course, though it was more to stay out of the way than out of pure fear.
Still, the blonde could not fault Frank’s men for the fear they showed at the man’s punches. Franks cries startled the rest of the folk in the main tavern-space they were in, causing many of the men to jump with a fright, or yell angrily at the fight that appeared to be breaking out. Drunks never liked their silence broken, and it couldn’t be ruled out that others might try to jump in if Frank and his men didn’t disengage from a fight they clearly weren’t winning.
But even common thugs weren’t that stupid; the overt show of force from the belled man caused Frank’s friends to quickly vacate the tavern, leaving Frank as he took the nasty hit to his ribs; Charlotte could have sworn she heard a crunch as the shaggy-haired man’s fist made contact. Frank had already dropped her dagger to the ground with a clatter, but he finished his display of being caught off-guard by shambling back into the wall just beside the tavern door, doubled over and eyes tearing up.
“Stay back, ya whoreson!” Frank spat as he tried to straighten up, right arm clenching his middle as he scrambled to the tavern door, nearly falling through it as he got out of the room as quickly as he could. But even with Frank and his men vacating the premises, the tavern remained riled up, some of the angrier men shouting and cursing towards the shaggy haired man and the blonde.
Charlotte looked back towards the barkeep, who looked equally upset. He threw his rag down on the counter and fervently pointed towards the door. “Ay, troublemakers ain’t welcome here! Best scram ‘fore I call the guard!”
The blonde quickly moved over to snatch the dagger from the ground, slipping it into its place on the small of her back before looking over to the shirtless man. “Impressive as that display was,” she smoothly cooed, “I think it’s time for us to leave. Walk with me?”
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Zahhak Al-Bahar
Dragon
Posts: 34
Profession: Competitive Thrower
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Ilheod
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Post by Zahhak Al-Bahar on Oct 16, 2015 10:20:50 GMT -6
There was a special satisfaction in breaking someone. Be it bones, their body as a whole, or their spirit. It was, in his mind, the best way to assert just how superior you were over another. So as his fist destroyed a portion of the fragile white bones hidden behind the thin layer of flesh to the man who had insulted him not moments sooner, Zahhak felt a savage feral grin spread upon his lips. It was a refreshing sensation to feel his fists colliding with the man. Though, unlike most people, Zahhak was not in the slightest bit intimidated as the crowd behind him began to display discontent and anger. His back turned upon the fleeing man as Zahhak hissed with glee. Clearly, a male willing to take on the entirety of the bar at once, Zahhak began to tense his toned arms as he curled them and cycled the process of balling and unballing his fists. His brown hair bobbed slightly while he shook his head to gaze from one side to another; eagerly examining the crowd for who he might strike first. It was a dangerous situation in reality. His love of combat was starting to move into cognitive thoughts like a haze.
The blonde woman suddenly spoke, as the an behind the bar had just finished pointing to them before angrily gesturing to leave and verbally expressing his disapproval. At this point..Zahhak saw his lips move, but did not register his words. They were noise to him. Noise he ignored as he snarled a bit and tightly balled his fists. His blood pumped through his veins with the fire of a volcano in the precipice of erupting. The woman was closer, so perhaps that was why he heard her. His instinct screamed to fight. To throw himself into this crowd and brawl. It was not the first time he'd done it. Nor would it be the last. However...
The tiniest of voices was suggesting that he leave this place. As fired up as he was, the danger of him getting too infatuated with the fighting and transforming was great. He turned his back to the crowd once more, subconciously flexing the muscles of his arm in a way of calming himself as he pressed his palms together and gripped either hand angrily. He exhaled, and then gazed back at the crowd while the woman made to leave the bar. "I could crack your heads like bird egg.." His accent thick and stained with distaste as he turned and strode out of the bar. All in all..not the first place he'd likely never be allowed back at. Not that it mattered to him..being barred from entering a human building for a few decades. He exhaled again, lifting his chin and stretching his arms out as his body relaxed; neck cracking with a rippling series of pops as he waited for the blonde woman. She had indicated he should walk with her; so he would let her lead their path.
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 2, 2015 19:08:33 GMT -6
Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for the jingling man to make his move - either towards the door or towards the other men. The young woman used to be all for a good bar fight, but it didn’t take long for her to learn that getting banned out of taverns did nothing but hurt her “consulting” business. Clients didn’t like hiring someone with a bad reputation, and the quickest way to get a bad rep in town was to be involved in a fight in the local watering hole.
Luckily for her and for her foreign friend, the shirtless man decided against continuing his display of strength, throwing a final insult the way of frank and his idiot friends before he turned towards her, as if waiting for her to lead the way out of the still-tense tavern. Charlotte didn’t have to be told twice, so after gently placing her hand on the man’s bare shoulder, the blonde led him out of the bar and into the cool night air.
The lower district around the old tavern was still surprisingly lively for this time of night - that is, it was surprising if you didn’t frequent this part of the capital city often. Drunks still stumbled through the alleys singing tavern tunes, escorts flaunted their “goods” to passersby, and even a few shady-looking merchants were still looking to peddle their goods to whoever would pay their price. All under the dim lights from the windows of the surrounding buildings.
The blonde vacated the tavern as quickly as possible, and once she was sure they were in the clear, Charlotte looked back to the foreign man. “You’re not from around here, are you?” Her voice was teasing, clearly not trying to be accusatory though she couldn’t guarantee how the prod would be taken. Probably something she should have thought of, but it was too late now.
Still walking - though a bit more slowly now - the young woman flicked a bit of hair from her eyes. “Granted, you seem like you can handle yourself, but I’m not sure you’d be able to handle the wrath of a bar filled with criminals, hmm?”
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Zahhak Al-Bahar
Dragon
Posts: 34
Profession: Competitive Thrower
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Ilheod
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Post by Zahhak Al-Bahar on Nov 25, 2015 10:00:31 GMT -6
The faint jingling of bells breached the quiet left in the scarce moments before Zahhak answered the blonde woman's question. His steps had weight to them. Still walking off the built up frustration of a prospected fight and not being able to participate. He loathed such situations. Never should one be denied a good fight. Why had he acknowledged the woman's mentioning that they leave? He could not be sure. Slowly, and reflexively, the water dragons fleshy digits clenched into balled fists tightly. Skin ran white at the knuckles before he opened his palms, allowing the flush tan shade to return almost instantly. He lifted his right hand and pressed it to the side of his neck, pressing inwards sharply with the palm against the base while cranking his chin out and to the left. A rippling series of pops left as he cracked his neck before speaking in his heavy accented tone. What could be said? The humans tongue was still not his strong suit. Retention for the words were not either. "No I am not from here. Land without tides is no land I wish to be born from. I am from the western Isles. Here..people are..hm...friendlier. They shout first then they fight. There, they shout as they fight. Bah.."
He was slow as he spoke. Pronouncing the words in full. In the heat of combat his words came easier because he was focused on an edge. Then again, everything came more naturally to Zahhak while in combat. It was obvious however, that he had to take time for his words and deliberately assure himself they were pronounced that way. The brown haired warrior lifted his left arm to his right shoulder, shifting the pressure to it and cracking it as he rolled his right arm in windmill fashion. He looked to the alleys and wwalkways they strode towards while commenting on something she had mentioned. "I am used to large fights. Had they attacked, it would have felt a little more like home. I came here to find good fights. So far, I have found none. "
It was true. He knew humans could have the potential to best him. Ceezah had. So why was it that in a place that was supposed to have strong fighters, he could find none? Zahhak's oceanic blue eyes narrowed as he looked down the street. Given that he was still on edge, adrenaline and testosterone pumping through his body; everything seemed to be perceived with a bit more threat. The shady figures. The swift moving people. But alas. They were not warriors. He needed to remind himself of this. Zahhak inhaled sharply and in deep breaths. Slower. Slower. Still slower.
His breathing calmed his heart beat even as the adrenaline fueled body of his raged towards combat. Every fiber screamed to go into a savage frenzy of violence, which was entirely belittled by the calming expression he blankly fielded as he looked forwards. His fingers unclenched in full as he looked towards the blonde and shook his head a bit before speaking again. "How you people can go through day to day life so peacefully and not grow bored is beyond me. It seems a dull existence, does it not?" Perhaps this would give him an opportunity to learn more about humans. He wouldn't remember it, but then no one could say he had never tried.
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 28, 2015 22:12:10 GMT -6
The moment the shirtless man spoke, Charlotte noted the accent, trying to place where the man might be from. Surprisingly, it actually sounded foreign to her. Usually she could place the accent, but his was just… different. Like he should have been speaking an entirely different language to her, as if common was just plain foreign to him. It again made her think the man might be of Sacaen descent, until he admitted to being from the Isles, just as she had been. Now that she knew, there was just a hint of the Isles in his speech, but by and large there was something about his slow, meticulous speech that told her there was something else to him. She had no idea what, but there was something.
“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Charlotte commented in reply to his observation with a chuckle, turning them down an alley before slowing their fast walk to a normal pace. Still, as she looked back to the man as he popped his shoulder, the blonde could tell he was still livid. Whether that was because those thugs really had gotten to him, or he was just an ill-tempered man, Charlotte again wasn’t sure, but ultimately she wasn’t surprised by the display. Men of the isles usually had fire running through their veins just as much as the love of the sea did.
Large fights, hmm? The blonde wondered if the man was referring to the fighting pits in the Isles, which usually only the poorest and most destitute of men took to in order to get a chance at a meal. “Welcome to Lycia,” Charlotte said plainly in response to his disappointment at finding no good brawls. “All bark and no bite, as you’ve already noticed.”
Their pace slowed, Charlotte kept her eye closer on the man, watching as his breathing seemed to be slowing down from the heaving breaths, and as his body seemed to relax from being so tense. Charlotte agreed with the man in that a peaceful day-to-day life did seem a bit dull. Granted, she could do without some of the conflict she’d been privy to, but she wouldn’t trade her career for a simple common life, ever.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t know why common people liked it. “It does, but most prefer dull over exciting,” she said. “Exciting usually means dangerous or frightening, and most men aren’t willing to risk death to spice up their dull life. Better to live plainly than die in a blaze of fire, I suppose.”
Stopping at the end of the alley they had paced through, Charlotte focused on the man’s steely gaze. “Not sure how long you’ve been on the mainland, but I’d hazard that Bern or Ilia might have a few fighters worth your time. Unfortunately the Black Watch’s fight club is full of men used to taking advantage of the unaware - which you clearly are not.” Charlotte smiled to cover the pang of shame that ran through her, knowing that even as she put down the fight club as ‘weak,’ she hadn’t been able to win any fight that night.
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Zahhak Al-Bahar
Dragon
Posts: 34
Profession: Competitive Thrower
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Ilheod
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Post by Zahhak Al-Bahar on Jan 11, 2016 14:47:16 GMT -6
He scoffed a bit, at her words. Not directly at her, but at the notion of it's actuality. It disappointed him. All bark, and no bite? He'd grown up to the legends of the great war. Dragons and huamns. The mighty heroes of both sides. That the descendants of Roland were this weak? A shame. A grave shame. The soft jingling of the males bells with each step had taken a quieter tone and fallen into a far more steady rhythm even as he folded his arms with snaking embrace over his toned torso; lapis and inky blue tattoos shaded to transition evenly into one another. His gaze narrowed as he looked to the citizens idly going about their business at the end of the street. Zahhak's heavily accented tone reflected this disappointment however, making no pass to hide it. " Perhaps the children of Roland have forgotten how to be great warriors. On the isles, I hear tales of wars, and heroes, and soldiers, and come to find mostly women and children and men who speak with tongues of a coward. Maybe they forget how to truly fight. I am perhaps, too used to the life where fighting is to live out a dull life. "
Perhaps a harsh criticism of the Lycian way of life, but when all he knew was fighting, could he really express otherwise? Every day, one had to literally claw their survival out. Though he was dragon-kin, he was no different. He simply had larger claws with which to scrape at. Zahhak adjusted his gaze to meet the blondes before expressing curiosity towards her directly, perhaps for the first time.
"This weapon they stole from you, why was it so important? That they would take it to anger you means it must be so."
He himself had little understanding of the value in weapons. Some interested him, but those were few and in-between. His weapon of choice was that which he could always have with him, and in the case of this woman; the theft of her weapon solidified his desire never to rely on one. If he couldn't always have it exclusively to himself, why did he need it? He did not. Distant words echoed back to him, and he recalled the expression that he believed it more appropriate to fight with bare hands. Despite this...humans still interested him. They had won the war. Did that truly mean they were helpless? He thought not. Yet these humans could not best him without his true power. How then could it be that they defeated his people? That was the caliber of strength he sought to test himself against. Perhaps this women knew more..
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Post by Charlotte on Feb 3, 2016 16:46:37 GMT -6
Children of Roland? Charlotte raised a brow at the man’s use of the saying that, frankly, had all but fallen out of use in recent years; only elders and scholars referred to Lycians as descendants of Roland, and usually it was only when discussing the histories - histories so far back only old men cared enough to discuss them. So what was a man clearly accustomed to the hard life of the Isles doing using that sort of rhetoric? Part of Charlotte wanted to pry deeper, but her more practical side reminded her that it really wasn’t wise to pry at a man she’d met in an illegal fight club.
So the young woman shrugged, her walk slowing slightly as she turned them around an alley corner. “Lycians still fight, they just fight with words instead of their fists. After Ostia, I’m not surprised, frankly.”
A moment of relative silence passed between them, only interrupted by the jingling chestpiece the man wore, before he asked about her dagger. It was funny, really, that he asked why it was so important, because in all honesty Charlotte was still trying to figure that out herself. The woman rarely found a need for a dagger, and outside of this fight night she usually avoided combat at whatever costs. The damn thing had simply been sitting in its sheath since she’d received it from Balsam - originally it intrigued her, sure, what with being a magic blade and all, but now it seemed useless.
But if it was useless she wouldn’t have fought to keep it. Crossing her arms, Charlotte looked over to the man. “I went through a lot to get it, so I’m not in the business of losing it... though you wouldn’t think it after tonight.”
Looking to change the subject, the woman fired back a question to him. “Not that it’s my business, but why do you think you’ll find a better fight outside of the Isles? I mean, from what I remember the men from there are some of the toughest in Elibe.”
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Zahhak Al-Bahar
Dragon
Posts: 34
Profession: Competitive Thrower
Affinity: Thunder
OoC Alias: Ilheod
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Post by Zahhak Al-Bahar on Feb 29, 2016 10:32:37 GMT -6
Zahhak grunted slightly, as the aquatic dragon shifted his toned forearms over his exposed torso with a brief pause verbally. He tilted his head to the right slightly, his neck rippling with a series of pops as he slowly closed his eyes. He still walked along side the woman, but quietly tried to discern how much to give away of his singular shame. He need not reveal the entire story to this human, but could answer it none the less. He exhaled sharply through his nose before he unfolded his arms and placed a hand on the wooden corner of the building he strode by. Just dredging up the memories of his defeat sent his blood to boil so fiercely that he had to restrain from tapping into his stone simply to crush the wood with which his fingers pressed to. Despite this, his face remained a rather calm expression. Zahhak lifted his gaze to look to the people walking down the street past the alley of the Lycian town, before speaking finally in a somewhat blank tone.
"There is a man that resides within my home islands. I am unable to beat him. I will not return until I can change this. As I am now, I am simply not strong enough. It was here that I had hoped to find my strength tested."
Still. He'd had no luck thus far. A few miscellaneous bouts that often ended before he could get serious, and an incident in Nabata had him still trying to find a real solution. Hell, given the way the boat ride had gone he was beginning to wonder if he wouldn't have been better off out at sea. He did miss the spray of the ocean's waves, and the roaring thunder of the colossal stormy waves breaking upon one another. There was a chaotic charm in life on the seas. Nothing was set in stone. At any moment, things could turn to an entirely reversed situation or direction, and he'd grown in this chaos. Perhaps that was why he took issue with the structured nature that most of Elibe had taken? He felt that it made it too easy to grow up with a specific niche of experience. It left no cause or instinct to adapt. Grow. Expand. Suddenly however, an idea struck him.
He turned to gaze at the blonde woman with curiosity staining his tone. "These lands have developed a problem with monsters, yes? Where could one find these creatures?"
It could be his solution. What better way to beat a human, than train on things that ate humans? He could think of no more fool-proof a plan than this.
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Post by Charlotte on Mar 1, 2016 13:10:53 GMT -6
Charlotte stopped as her Islander friend leaned against the corner of the building whose alley they were about to exit, crossing her arms and listening as the man detailed his plight. It seemed simple enough, but whenever something seemed that way it usually wasn’t. The man was more than likely leaving out a whole slew of details, but it wasn’t her business to pry, even if she was interested in knowing. The matter of the fact was this was a random person off the street, not a client or a contact, so she didn’t need to make it her business to know anything about him.
Besides, now that they’d carved out enough distance from the tavern, the blonde’s back and head had begun aching, her body’s way of telling her it was time to rest.
The young woman chuckled as the man asked where he might be able to find monsters, no doubt to test his strength. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen one, seems like they’re all over the back roads coming into Laus from the north. Go into any tavern and you’ll see a handful of postings asking for someone to clear out some sort of infestation.”
Charlotte shrugged, unfolding her arms and using her left hand to dust off her front. “Normally I’d say you’re crazy for even thinking about going after monsters, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t believe you might actually be able to take a few on your own after tonight.” The blond sighed, checking her pocket aimlessly before looking back to the man in front of her.
“Well, it was nice meeting you..." Charlotte paused, realizing she didn’t know the man’s name, but continued, “...yeah. Anyway, I’ve somewhere to be. Thanks for the help back there.” With that final show of gratitude, Charlotte patted the small of her back to make sure her magic blade was still sheathed there before ducking into the flow of passing Lycians that had begun waning for the night. While her curiosity still pinched her mind, the rogue’s growing headache required a night’s rest in her own bed for once.
[Exit thread]
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