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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 13:29:04 GMT
Dhaunmyr had rather decided that he’d spent enough time working to warrant at least the morning off. He’d see about the rest of the day as he came to it. The sun, while a bother, had quite brightened his mood as it began its dance across the sky. Regimented waltz. The partner would lead in the night, mysterious as it was delightful. The sun was far more powerful, and yet would never meet the end of the chase. That is, as long as nothing world-ending occurred.
As it was his day of recuperation from the beast that was the stress of trying to sell quality goods to people that simply didn’t understand art, Dhaunmyr had dressed down. Or rather, dressed down as far as he was concerned. His white shirt was plain but clearly well made, breezy and probably better suited to summer without a jacket, but anyone that had spent much time with Dhaunmyr recently had seen him start to struggle in the spring heat. Surely he’d get used to it in a few cycles of the seasons? In his belt he had slung not daggers or even a scabbard, but instead much smaller loops for brushes. Long, thin handles and short ends, some fans, some straight edged. Some looked brand new, others, the smaller ones, with a pinch of bristles, were stained in a variety of bright colours. The belt kept a pouch strung against his hip, shapeless leather, but clearly accommodating for something box-shaped. His trousers were nothing special, but for the lace down the side of the leg and the quality, again, but they lead down to the most surprising of all — Dhaunmyr’s chelsea boots, with just a tiny wedge heel. They barely put him at five six, and even then they appeared plain. He kept one hand in his pocket, fumbling with something inside as he absentmindedly scanned his surroundings.
These surroundings were again, unusual. The cheaper end of Waterdeep was an unlikely place for him to appear, but a small part of him was drawn to the people there, at least as a subject to paint.
Before he did so, however, he liked to be of a less sharp mind, one that was more able to stare at the big picture and run with silly ideas that ended as beautiful images he’d later agonise over. In his opinion, he was a terrible painter, but at least he got some enjoyment out of the relaxing part. It was nice to feel safe somewhere, he could do as he pleased in Waterdeep, and he would be kept from danger by the guards.
That is, as long as he stuck to the places where they actually were. Really just passing through, Dhaunmyr slipped between the walls of an alleyway without so much as a balled fist. His light and airy movements almost an exaggerated performance of the grace of an elf, but it was right in the back of his mind, everything was. He really wanted to see the people move and work, and study the movements of an ocean reflecting an entire bright star, as it waltzed in a perfect, regimented line back to bed.
That, however, was not the case for terribly long. Because bad things could and did happen in Waterdeep. Unfortunately they also happened for reasons that didn’t make sense, like distrust toward a stranger, focused entirely at a story made up to tell off naughty children. And for that exact reason, Dhaunmyr dropped the copper in his pocket, as it was running over his gilded and silvered fingers, and backed himself almost into a corner. He had space to run, but not enough for comfort.
“Hey! What’s you skulking around in the alleys for anyway? Don’t you think you’re getting your hands on no one today, you bastard!” The stranger was bigger than Dhaunmyr, and they had a friend. The shadow and the light clashed too much for him to see any distinguishing features, as well as the panic brewing in his mind. When they approached he had presumed they were there to take some of his belongings, just thieves. He was used to such creatures, and he’d prefer to receive his goods back a day or so later than put up a fight. He had enough influence and sway for someone to actually care, and he knew a few people who knew people. But that didn’t sound like someone who wanted a gold necklace to spin off underpriced due to ignorance of the actual value of goods.
“If you will, I am simply looking to make my way to work I really-”
“Work? You think we’re stupid? You better get outta here before we throw you someplace, and outta Waterdeep too!”
The space was just about enough, he was out as a thumb just glanced the top of his wrist and he spotted the all too bright sheen of a weapon being pulled out of a pocket, perhaps an inner one, not that he had terribly much time to speculate. He knew he was certainly tolerated around Waterdeep, at least so far by all but these fine people behind him, but he had no proof that anyone would go to any length to stop him being hurt. Being hurt? They sounded more threatening than that. The tone still shouted out behind him, but he couldn’t hear for shouting himself. All he had to really make much of a defence was his voice, hopefully a crowd, if doing nothing but paying attention, might scare off the citizens behind him. He’d heard about this, been warned a total of once. He just didn’t think it happened in real life.
They were clearly on his tail, he just found himself running towards the most open spaces he could think of, ones with taverns, inns, shopfronts, but he wasn’t sure he’d even make it that far. Maybe there wasn’t much difference between the surface and the Underdark after all. He wasn’t sure what he was hearing, nor what he was shouting, a part of him gnawed and sputtered not to say anything at all, just stop. A part of his overworked anxiety actually had the impudence to direct itself towards being worried about causing a scene, it caught cries halfway in his throat. Why bother someone else’s fine morning? You wouldn’t do anything if it were someone else, anyway. Or at least someone like you.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 14:30:22 GMT
“She’s the one who’s gonna stop us if there’s trouble?” Kara could hear the voices drifting out of the crowd.
Kara stood, arms crossed over her chest, at the corner of the bar. She wore a long sleeved black shirt and pants, her glaive stored in the back room and her hair braided. Her eyes scanned the crowd, once and again.
“She’s tiny,” the same voice continued. Kara spotted him in; bald, with showy but not strong muscles, dressed for display. “Maybe she’s a good bouncer because you’d feel too guilty to hit her?”
There was a roar of male laughter.
Kara kept her eyes on the inn's many patrons, looking past the three men as they approached the bar.
Evidently tired of discussing her, the three men shifted their focus to Viridha, the bartender.
“Dang, but check her out!” The second one whooped; he had a big, dirty red beard that looked like it had caught half his dinner. “I know what kind of drink I’d like her to pour me.”
“Aww yeah,” the third one laughed. He was the only one Kara read as dangerous; he had a look to him, sleek and dangerous with dark black hair. “A big tip and who knows, maybe she’ll -“
Kara was happy that the rest of the suggestion was swallowed by the noise of the crowd. Viridha knew her work though, and within a few minutes the three men were wandering back away from the bar, drinks in hand.
Another two hours of standing, and Kara was starting to think - for once - she might have an easy night. She took a stroll around the edges of the club, as instructed, and returned to see the red-bearded man grabbing Viridha by the upper arm and yelling at her.
“No, sir, I can’t serve you another,” Viridha was saying.
“You’d better,” the red-bearded man drew back his other hand, open.
Kara stepped in and caught his wrist as he began to swing, effortlessly stopping his momentum. She squeezed.
The man let out a yelp, dropping Viridha and turning to Kara. He threw a wild, incompetent punch; Kara ducked and slammed her fist into his stomach, stepping out of the way as he vomited up the other half of his dinner onto the floor.
The red-bearded man came at her next; Kara dodged his grasping hands and would have hit him if not for the black haired man, who flung a fireball at her.
The night ended with Kara having lost three inches of hair and her job, the bar having lost several stools and half its counter, plus the three glasses Viridha had chucked at the black haired man - she had surprisingly good aim. Viridha had also lost her job, but she had treated Kara to a late night meat wrap and Kara had slept off the blow to the ribs and a singed arm on her floor.
Now, mid-morning, Kara was heading back home. Her mostly burnt black shirt was hanging off her, revealing a black breast band beneath, but she had her glaive, she’d slept a little the night before, and she’d had a meal in addition to getting paid. It wasn’t, by a long shot, the worst job she’d had in Waterdeep.
Better still, one of the others at the Gathering had pointed Kara to a free training space - for those in the know. She would go today, Kara decided. Some time with her training dances was just what she needed.
Then Dhaunmyr came bursting out of an alley past her, little heeled boots clattering on the stones. Kara stopped, wide-eyed, and two men came running out after him, the first with a dagger glinting in his hand.
The second passed close to her, and Kara spun her glaive, shoving the staff between his legs and tripping him hard onto the cobblestones. She kicked him in the ribs for good measure and took off after the man with the knife, running full out with her glaive tightly gripped in one hand.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 15:02:13 GMT
Dhaunmyr almost froze, in fact he did, for a second. Blinded by fear, and finding it pretty difficult to see through his hair bouncing all over the place but, of course, mainly in front of his eyes, he was relying mostly on the big movements to figure out where anything was. There was a clear sound — someone hit the ground, he peeked behind him, just about focused enough to see the man on the floor.
And why? Up — Kara? The most delightful Miss Bellringer? Now that was the thing that caught his ankles and stood him still. He was entirely in the wrong state of mind, of course, to really think about it, but what he did think about was the fact that he was, by no means, allowing her to get away without a sincere thank you. And he could at least step in if the worst came to it, not that he’d make much of a difference. He’d seen her, and in the most appropriate way possible, he’d felt her. He knew he was nowhere near as capable as she, but he also knew that such things weren’t, perhaps, of greatest importance right now.
He didn’t sprint, but he did move with a quickened pace, towards her, and the utter beasts that threatened him, and potentially Kara. He couldn’t have that. In honesty it sickened him to think they may even touch her, now he was comforted by her simply being there, he managed to get a good look, his brain actually processed the mess before him.
Two ugly creatures, nowhere near an acceptable height, mismatched features, stubby fingers, unkempt, unclean. As if he would ever have even looked at them twice, as if any would have! Especially not slavers. He was certain the demon queen would have found them as a sacrifice to be unacceptable, quite offensive, and rather... cheap. The idiot on his legs was still coming for him, he stepped back to the wall, in line with the fine saviour of the day.
He wasn’t sure what to do. Of course before he’d managed some minor miracle with the rather entrancing woman of clearly exceedingly high intelligence at the theatre, but she was rather abrasive. Commanding. And she owed Dhaunmyr nothing. Not even the time of day. Kara was very different, he felt far more at ease around her, and he cared enough to immediately remember her name, her face, although in honesty he had nothing much else to look at for perhaps all too long of an evening. But even still, she seemed to have this perfectly handled, he’d probably make it worse anyway. But he could stop the man running. So close to the wall again, if he came with arms to inflict damage, he’d at least hold the filthy animal off of his person, maybe get him with a raised knee if he could, but that wasn’t a definite. Other than running, he was rather struggling to even think of words. They were the thing he was good at. Like his one speciality. And he wasn’t even that good.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 16:00:11 GMT
Kara watched in disbelief as Dhaunmyr - rather than continuing to run to a safe distance - abruptly stopped and backed up against a wall. At least no one could get behind him from there.
The man with the knife stopped as well, looking from the scrawny weaponless Dhaunmyr to Kara. Sensibly, Kara felt, he turned to her.
It was a nasty knife - clearly made for this sort of street fight, with a wicked edge that would hurt if one was stabbed by it - would hurt badly, in fact. There was a dark stain on the blade that suggested the man wielding it had used it for such purposes before, and also didn’t take proper care of his weapon.
He had a knife.
Kara had a glaive, a glaive whose leather cover she was flicking off onto the street. It looked very much as if someone had taken his knife, stretched it out into a sword, and mounted it onto a quarterstaff. There was a long moment of stillness between them, and Kara felt as if she could see the hesitation behind his eyes.
He lunged at her. He was fast! Kara was faster. The blade of the glaive nipped nearly along his chest, opening his shirt and just a faint red line on the skin beneath. He froze and Kara moved in, twisting the glaive and using the shaft and both hands to knock him back almost five feet, squarely into the wall behind them, a good twenty feet still from Dhaunmyr. His head hit with a brutal crack.
“What the hell, you bitch,” the man spat the words at Kara once he’d regained his wits, the effort enough to leave him gasping for breath. “Why are you defending a drow? He’s here to steal our kids - drag them off back down to that rat warren of a place they -“
The rant, disgusting as it was, was not a terribly effective screen for his companion, who was lunging at Kara from behind. Kara shifted the glaive and slammed the butt backwards, catching him in the stomach. The man against he wall froze in silence as the companion groaned and lost his breakfast on the ground.
Kara looked between them, carefully, then over at Dhaunmyr. She gave him a faint, calm nod. “He’s a dark elf,” Kara said. “Not a drow.”
Kara paused. “Next time I’ll use the blade,” she told them both. Then, quite deliberately, she turned her back on them and made her way over to Dhaunmyr, scooping up the leather cover as she went. She scowled, examining him intently from head to toe, checking for injuries.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 16:35:51 GMT
The crack made him cringe, staring in some sort of disbelief. The strength, the expertise in the wielding of the weapon, and the absolute nausea of the sound of the skull against the wall. Still, he deserved it. And after this he could crawl away and never bother anyone ever again. Dhaunmyr had no connections with the Underdark, probably not even legally, and he certainly had no interest in anyone’s children. Although, he could almost sympathise now, if he saw a drow... well. He would probably be able to tell, for a start. Just put a spider on their shoulder and see if they swept it away or cautiously attempted to set it down, then, when it wouldn’t move away, sigh and allow it to perch. Perhaps even begin a web. But they were all spies, and ones with eight eyes to boot, he wouldn’t do either. He’d scream, he’d throw something at it, he’d squish it, stamp on it, and throw it away. Begone, demon.
He made a start for her — “Kara, you, you did... you were amazing.” One hand drifted by his side, the other found its way to rest on his face. He was becoming rather flustered. Such a feat! And for him! Why, Kara was increasing her reputation with him with every minute between them, so much so that he could barely find words to speak, for once. He was practically condemned to just stare in awe, very clearly doing perfectly fine given the smile that he couldn’t quite hide creeping into his eyes.
“And... such behaviour... I suppose the past matters mostly to strangers. Listen, listen. Thank you, truly.” The floating hand found a resting space against his chest, conveying his heartfelt gratitude, and partially attempting to calm the almost audible beating that pounded against his ribs. He glanced at the men with disgust, and Kara with perhaps the biggest, roundest puppy eyes he’d ever had for anyone, mostly, he found himself looking at his boots and quietly trying to catch his breath.
He instinctively took her hand, then caught himself midway with it between both of his. He looked towards her, eye contact suddenly awkward and slightly uncomfortable, at least for him. He just grinned apologetically, unsure of where to go from that stage. “Thanks.” He repeated, clearly in far more emotional pain than anything else. A little panicked, slowly realising it wasn’t going to be super easy and fun for him and this would repeat itself, rumours were true, and most importantly, halfway through an old social cue that he’d thought he’d shaken off. He shook her hand once, almost forcefully, as he nodded in unison with it, and let go. “Shall we— shall we leave?”
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 16:47:56 GMT
Kara shook her head a little, uncomfortable with Dhaunmyr’s praise. This – this was why she preferred not to stick around after getting involved, if she didn’t have to. After a fight like this one, when she wasn’t even injured, it was much, much better if she could just – walk away.
But…
She liked Dhaunmyr.
Kara was a little surprised to discover it; she hadn’t really thought about it, in the time since she’d seen him last. It had been an odd encounter, to say the least; Kara had come closer to death than that fight since reaching Waterdeep, but she hadn’t had any struggle quite as difficult as that desperate attempt to make her way home. Dhaunmyr had literally carried her, then stayed – the image of him sitting in the corner of her room, and then again in the corner of Caim’s room, and then again, huddled against himself in the corner of the couch at breakfast – Kara couldn’t shake them. He was an odd mixture of strength and weakness, and she saw that in him again now.
Why not run? It was stupid; he was weaponless. He had been running, and despite the handicap of his ridiculous shoes, he’d actually been running fairly fast. Why stop only after there was someone to defend her? It didn’t make any sense to her. But it did make her feel – protective, of him. The look on his face only made it worse.
Dhaunmyr reached out and took her hand with both of his and Kara froze, utterly froze, holding herself completely still. She had to; if she let herself respond at all it would be to snatch her hand or shove him back, and she didn’t want to – she didn’t want to screw this up. Her free hand tightened on the shaft of the glaive, the only motion she allowed herself.
Finally, he gave her hand an odd, sort of forceful shake. Was the upset look on his face due to her? Should she have – done something? Kara didn’t know. The moment the pressure of his grip slackened she pulled her hand back, swallowing a little.
“Yes,” Kara glanced back over her shoulder at the two men. They were still just – staring. It looked like the one she’d hit in the stomach had puked a second time, and his friend looked thoroughly dazed from the hit of his head against the wall still. All the same, Kara didn’t think she and Dhaunmyr should stick around to find out.
Decisively, Kara started walking – she wasn’t exactly sure where she was going, but she thought if she moved, Dhaunmyr would probably follow. So she hoped. Kara would let them get a few streets away before she would stop, waiting for Dhaunmyr to notice, before looking up at him, making (for her) unusually direct eye contact.
Kara swallowed. She had no idea how to say what she wanted to say, but she thought she had better try. “That was stupid,” she told Dhaunmyr. “Either run or fight.” Her eyes lowered to his arms; she knew perfectly well that they were strong. “Can you defend yourself?” She asked him.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 17:15:28 GMT
He picked up on her slight discomfort, perhaps it wasn’t so light, but the exacts were hard to figure out. He didn’t quite know her well enough to make a concrete judgement, but he could pick up on tightening up, stiffening, the facial expression, that was fairly universal. She didn’t say terribly much, but that wasn’t to suggest she didn’t let out emotion in other ways.
The dark elf did find himself trailing behind her, almost grateful for his skin so immediately after it caused a problem, so that when she turned around, Kara wouldn’t find Dhaunmyr’s face heated up red, although he was smiling rather suspiciously for being the target of two hideous bigots. He kept his thoughts to himself for once, but it certainly wasn’t entirely based on his twisted tongue. He wasn’t sure she’d want to hear the ramblings. And they really were. He thought for a moment on the people he knew in the Underdark, if one granted them the title, then the men in the alley, then Kara, then... Kara... she was almost freeing. Faerveren and Brennip would be suffocating him, mothering him to death. He really found it a good thing.
And then she turned around.
She was... angry? Or perhaps disappointed. And insulting. Rather than resemble his current choice of companions, she for a brief moment reminded him of someone else entirely. You’re an idiot, dear. Right. Run or fight, but... there was obviously the third option. She left no opportunity to argue, that if the worst happened, he would not have her in danger of dying on account of his... existence. And she had no idea of the people’s ability, neither did he. Even if it were on impulse, she did risk some heavy repurcussions for him. Just like... someone else. Eilistraee alive, he really wanted to get to his room and cry for a solid morning now, or what was left of it. He found himself twirling a ring around his finger, almost nervously. He bowed his head, although still looking at her, rather than the floor, or his hands.
“From a distance, perhaps. I uh...” He followed her gaze. “I don’t um, these aren’t- these are from archery, I’m not a fighter.” Dhaunmyr explained, finding himself holding his arms, just above the elbow, with a rather tight grip. “I was just worried, see, if they managed to get one over you I... I’m not worth losing a fight for.”
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 17:23:33 GMT
Kara scowled at Dhaunmyr, brows snapping together in response to his statement that he wasn’t worth losing a fight for. This – this was important. She really needed to say something – something to – to convince him that he was worth losing a fight for. Of course he was. What was wrong with him, to feel that way about himself? Even Kara could tell that someone had hurt him, and for a moment she wanted to know who, so she could track them down and –
Right. Talking.
Kara cleared her throat. She could do this. She stepped forward, and shoved Dhaunmyr’s shoulder with one small, strong hand – as lightly as she could while actually applying force, but probably still hard enough to push him back. “Nobody gets to talk about you like that,” Kara told him, very sharply. “Not even you.”
She wouldn’t say or do anything else, not yet, just waiting, patiently, to see if she’d done it right – to see if Dhaunmyr understood.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 17:37:30 GMT
“Oh! Oh you misunderstand me. I’m not some kind of self deprecating asshole who wants attention off of a pretty girl, who probably just saved his life. I’m just a guy. I’m just a random guy you don’t know anything about. And you’re actually doing something here, clearly you’re willing to be helpful. So I’m not worth you getting stabbed and left to drown or bleed out or something, or burnt up in a furnace or thrown to some dogs. You, just... I’m not even going to tell you how I see myself as some scummy bug amongst absolute goddesses like... girls... in general... I’m just making a statement without any kind of filter from anywhere. If I get in trouble, it’s my trouble. If you got hurt because of me, I don’t know what I’d do.” Dhaunmyr was clearly getting stirred up again, half of his tiny snippet of a rant he’d pretty clearly be happy to go on with for an hour muffled behind his palm. His hair, pushed back and out of his face, and his body folding in, bunching up, trying to be as small as it could.
“I think it’s foolish! I mean, thank you, but... it’s just a terrible thing to do!”
The Underdark hurt, it didn’t hurt like this. He didn’t have to get worried about anyone. It was normal for people to die, and you just couldn’t do anything about it. You couldn’t complain, you couldn’t save anyone. But up here, it was just your fault if you died. It wasn’t normal. It was either natural or your own damn fault. He felt pinpricks in his eyes and an entirely different set of butterflies and heat in his face. She shouldn’t have told him what to do.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 19:19:50 GMT
A flood of words burst forth from Dhaunmyr, as if Kara had accidentally struck down a dam. She flinched back a little from them, but kept her eyes fixed on him, trying to track what he was saying through the mumbling and the hand over his mouth and his usual way of talking around whatever he was saying three times before getting to the point. There was something about pretty girls, which Kara dismissed. At fifteen it had ached that she wasn’t pretty and would never be pretty, but she had long since put that aside. There was so much else to focus on. There was a lot about furnaces and dogs, and then more about bugs and goddesses, none of which Kara could track.
She relaxed visibly, frown easing, when he finally explained that he would feel bad if she were hurt because of him, and told her that she was foolish. That was fine then; Kara was more than used to those sorts of concerns.
Kara shook her head, comfortable, back in her element. She still hadn’t figured out exactly how to explain, but Dhaunmyr wasn’t alone in expressing that; he wasn’t even the first in Waterdeep to do so.
“I make my own decisions,” Kara said, quite firmly. “If I get hurt, it’s because of my choices. It’s not your fault.”
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 20:09:55 GMT
“I’m not— I’m not arguing with you about this, I’m just not letting you do anything like that again for me.” He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. It was difficult. Dhaunmyr held his hand in front of him, thumb digging in to the palm until the blood stopped reaching it. It was more obvious there, less tone, plus there was a rather large scar across his entire hand, not as if it had been sliced open on purpose. An accident with a double edged blade, maybe, something like that. It wasn’t something he would really ever talk about. At least not yet. Not even Fae and Brenn had a clue, though they’d asked, he withheld completely, shut it down, and moved on as swiftly as possible. Imperfections irked him, that was the excuse.
He wasn’t sure how to actually go about stopping her doing whatever the hell she wanted. Defending someone was a hard thing to just stop, more so when the person doing the defending was like Kara. And they were clearly stronger than you. And naturally you were unable to refuse an order off of a woman. And he couldn’t do much except yell at her, really. Not least because he wouldn’t win, but also because, well...
“Miss Bellringer, as much as I would like to continue to converse with you about this topic I will literally fall apart so at least not in public and definitely not when I’m sober.”
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 20:22:01 GMT
Kara studied Dhaunmyr, very seriously. After a moment she nodded, accepting his answer without reservations. Kara certainly understand having places you didn’t want to go, and she certainly understood wanting to have privacy before you collapsed.
She thought the problem over for a moment. Dhaunmyr needed defending; that was obvious. He didn’t want her to defend him. Was there someone else who was going to be defending him? Kara didn’t think so. He’d been alone the night he’d found her wandering the streets of Waterdeep – alone very late at night, although the North Ward was a good deal safer than the Dock Ward. Today, he had been wandering back streets of the Dock Ward by himself, weaponless. So there wasn’t someone else responsible for defending him. He refused to let Kara do the job (as if he could stop her), and he was unable to defend himself.
There was, Kara felt, only one possible solution.
“Follow me,” Kara said, sternly. She focused her gaze on Dhaunmyr until she thought he’d listen to her, then turned and set off across the Dock Ward, leading him along several streets. She would keep a pace that he could match, but not go slowly enough for more than minimal conversation.
Finally, she turned off the main street, and went straight up a small staircase, knocking in a somewhat elaborate pattern on a door above the street. There would be a pause, a slit in the door would open, and Kara and the person inside would exchange meaningful glances and murmured words; all Dhaunmyr would hear was ‘Helm.’
The door opened.
Kara stepped back, gesturing for Dhaunmyr to enter, still having explained exactly nothing of what they were doing.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 20:41:46 GMT
“Miss Bellringer, where are you going?!”
He accepted the lack of an answer, it was a given by now. The few words thing was charming, though. Dhaunmyr wasn’t left guessing, there was no real question as to what she wanted, and as far as he could tell, it was simply to follow. She left no real traps to fall into, or stupid promises that end up far more elaborate by the month’s end. Kara was incredibly admirable. In honesty, he spoke at such length because he didn’t want to commit. It was like he had been taught, girls just wanted to catch you out and string you up by your intestines when you finally spoke too directly about something she loves.
Or something along those lines. The saying was much shorter in Elvish.
The turning off made him a little nervous, the whole shifty shenanigans made him much more so. He had no idea what to expect, and he really wasn’t the type for this kind of place. He had to be known amongst the very opposite circles, if he wanted to get what he wanted, which was a rather shallow and meaningless goal but one that would see him never work again. Or at least, not if he didn’t choose to.
But this? It was worse than continuing his worst habit, which, granted, he was going to do before he was interrupted, but that was beside the point.
“In here?” He sighed, he wasn’t getting out of it, if he knew anything about anyone, he could guess that easily. “You’re lucky I trust you.”
And so, in he stepped.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 19, 2019 20:55:37 GMT
There was a dwarf standing on a small stool beside the door. He eyed Dhaunmyr somewhat suspiciously as he entered, and relaxed when Kara followed after him. He and Kara exchanged nods, and he climbed off the stool and made his way off along the wall.
The space inside was… nice, actually. It would be immediately clear that this was a training space; there was a large, central area, equipped with weights, training dummies, and a variety of weapons racks, all holding various practice weapons. There were also quite a few waterskins, and what looked like bedrolls stacked along the corner in case anyone wanted to nap. The whole thing was clean and neat, perfectly well-maintained, but well-used as well; most of the practice weapons had chips and nicks, and the dummies did as well.
Two individuals, a man and a woman, both well-muscled and in full armor, were sparring with heavy swords in the center ring, loud wooden clashes that sent echoes through the room.
There were what looked like smaller rooms, separated by sliding wooden blocks that functioned as doors, off of the main area. Several were closed – they could hear the noise of grappling coming from behind one – but the rest were open.
Kara rested her glaive on the floor and leaned against it a little, surveying the room. She turned to Dhaunmyr, quite serious.
“You need to defend yourself, then,” Kara said, simply, as straightforward as if no time had passed since their earlier conversation on the street. “Weapons or fists?” She turned to the nearest rack of practice weapons, examining their options.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 19, 2019 21:11:44 GMT
Hold on, hold on. They were where? And she wanted to do what? That wasn’t — no!
“I am afraid you’re making some assumptions here that can’t possibly be true. Me? No, no that’s the point. You’re joking! I’m just. I don’t... no, no.” He was incredulous, he had to clear his mind with a pretty long and solid blink, hands, as a first, firmly pressed against his mouth. No rambling, or you’ll swallow the coals instead of touching them, or so the saying went... right?
Dhaunmyr was weak. He wasn’t important, he wasn’t special. And he wasn’t strong. He was supposed to just be normal, he wasn’t anything that stood out! Common as a cold.
He shook his head. No.
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