Roleplayer Guild - Forum Roleplaying Games

kio_fyre · #1 (**permalink**) 03-25-2008

“You’ll have to try harder than that!” cried out a loud, masculine voice. It held the tone of a man who was very prideful. A man who was very accustomed to being the center of attention, and well, as expected he was verily the center of attention at this moment. He danced along effortlessly with another, much younger man following his every step, yet always a step behind which frustrated the younger male as they continued to prance in the ring of spectators.

“I will get you yet Arlix!” The younger male cried out as he took a swipe at the elderly male’s abdomen, though ever skilled and only a ripe age of 38, Arlix dodged. It hardly deterred the younger male though. That was how their dance had been playing out the whole time. With Arlix dodging, and the younger male, Isej by name pursuing like a rabid animal eager for one little snip of blood.

People gasped at the reference of Arlix’s first name. Arlix was the chief of the tribe. It was unorthodox to hear him referred to so casually, especially by a youth merely in his second decade of life. Of course, the elder of the two only laughed heartily at the casual reference made by Isej, his eldest son of three children. He truly didn’t mind the calling of his first name, but he was in a respected position in his tribe, and it was expected that Isej, as a youth, would know his manners and not refer to his father, and thus chief so casually. Arlix knew he could not let such a slip go unpunished, and though he had little desire to strike out at the youth, he figured that a little humiliation could go a long way in humbling the younger male’s tongue.

He swung the scimitar expertly around his arm, for they were both wielding blunted scimitars. The gods forbid should anything happen to Arlix, for he was worshipped like a god by his people. Battle hardened muscles in his arms flexed as he pulled the blade around so it curved to his arm like the steely caress of a lover, then he skidded forward into the younger male’s range, and then beyond it for he was too close for the scimitar to hit anything more effective than an awkward slice, and with blunted blades that would do very little for the younger male.

With what seemed an effortless sweep, the hilt of the scimitar came down in a narrow swoop to crash hard against the younger male’s temple, causing Isej to stagger back and then wit the play of a skilled actor, Arlix flipped the scimitar around so the point stabbed deeply into the ground and with a small step forward, pushed two fingers against Isej’s chest.

Already staggered from the initial blow, Isej couldn’t help but fall back even under the slightest pressure, making the situation look rather comical to the spectators as a burst of laughter erupted about all of them. Arlix could see the younger male’s face reddening as his consciousness came crawling back and humiliation came quick into play.

“Remember your lessons Isej,” the older man said firmly as he knelt down to offer the younger male a hand up. “Respect your elders. Especially your chief,” he reprimanded, his voice still full of an elderly man’s pride as the boy gripped his father’s arm securely and was pulled up to his feet, still a little dazed, but hardly any worse for wear. However, with the lesson of humbleness done and over with, he then held up the younger boy’s arm high above their heads in the form of a salute for the pair of them and the customary cheers erupted. Patting the younger male on the back, he pushed the boy gently towards the side lines of the circle. “Go get that looked at,” he offered in a low whisper, and with a bewildered smile, Isej nodded and wandered off as directed.

It was then that attendants suddenly were beside Arlix, one took the sword, another offered him a towel to wipe the sweat from his eyes for rest assured, the exhibition had been arduous on both him and his son. It was Kahler, his most trusted advisor who came to his side then and Arlix greeted him with a broad smile and a hug shared in the nature of brotherhood though they were in no way connected by blood.

“May you be excused, High Chief?” Kahler quizzed, glancing all around and Arlix nodded with a flourish of his hand to take Kahler’s arm in his own grip and lead the advisor off where they would be able to converse on their own.

“Of course, what is it Kahler?” Arlix questioned, his view taking in the other male with a sparkle that despite his elder age of 37, for people rarely lived past sixty in their culture, resembled that of a young lad.

Kahler couldn’t help but offer a wry smirk, for he knew Arlix’s curious nature. A trait that he had possessed since he had taken up the position of high chief. “I bring news for you Arlix. We have a guest.”

“A guest?” The other male replied, seeming suddenly interested as he passed the towel he still held from hand to hand, very anxious to hear the news.

“Yes, high chief. A guest.” Replied Kahler, leaving Arlix to wonder what manner of guest this was. For prisoners and visitors alike were viewed as mere ‘guests’ until Arlix decided otherwise about them, and the high chief of the tribe was more than willing to make that judgement. Guests were always an excitement for him.

(The OOC thread can be found here: A Guest? OOC -Tsardel)

Closetmonster · #2 (**permalink**) 03-30-2008

(( *S* Assumption made this is open. Please let me know if not and I’ll delete the post))

The figure’s nails had cracks along their edges and underneath, carried the dirt of travels, it having been a while since they had met with a bar of soap. Under the cowl, eyes the color of dusk inspected each one separately, attempting in some way, to pass the time. Patience hadn’t always been a virtue, really.

It still wasn’t, if the truth were told. Finding foibles helped, yes. But finding foibles, though numerous, only took up so much time. It wasted but moments to recognize that yes, all of the marks of mistakes and confusions from the last two weeks were still there. That left the rest of the waiting time open to whatever thoughts and emotional upheavals that might choose at that time to strike. It was like waiting at a banquet of offal, afraid to touch anything set out, yet unable to stifle the idle, childish, and morbid curiosity wondering which object would serve to be the most distasteful.

You always do confuse things, so., the inner laughter was almost the exact replica of a memory never forgotten.

Thin lips curled imperceptibly at the corners, though the voice, cracked as it was, could not contain the amusement when, hoarse and low, it whispered to no one in particular, "I suppose I never did do things the easy way."

Hn. You could say that again. Now then, how are you going to handle this one? Ah! I know!, sarcasm rung through the voice, How about you leap in there, blade whirling, demanding results or you… create more of that creative havoc. That worked oh so well last time, don’t you think?

"Of course," the cowled figure’s body bent unnaturally to one side in remembrance of the sharp blow to the ribs, a blow required to end one such creative episode. "While I’m at it, I’ll not remind you that you were the one who told me to strike first and ask questions later. You always gave such good advice."

A dry chuckle filled the memory space. You never could discern the appropriate time to use advice, could you? Even now, years later, you still argue with me on that point. Regardless, it hasn’t ever worked when you chose to use it, and always was needed when you chose not to. Why not do the opposite of what you think is necessary?

A cough rattled through a thin chest and the lips tightened until they were but a pale, parched line across a triangular chin. The one who waited did not answer.

That was the trouble with carrying a voice around with one’s self. Just because you chose to end the conversation did not mean that the voice would quiet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something one could stop up one’s ears and bypass.

Silent treatment? Oh for- Clearly Al, you’ve sunk to a new level. It has not been, what? Oh yes, ten months since I’ve had the silent treatment? That would be ten months, if I were still around to count time. I thought we’d really come to an agreement on this one. The voice waited for a moment and when nothing was forthcoming, sighed. Have you decided?

With a groan of resignation, the waiter slumped in a half bow of defeat. "Decided what kind of fool to be?"

No, idiot. We both know the answer to that question I meant if I’m real or not?

But the waiter had no answer to that particular question, never had. Blissful silence finally reigned in the cocked head and moonshot eyes lifted to stare forward, having heard an approaching being. Questioning a course of action at that point was rather fruitless. The path had been set. They would all go forward, or the path would cease right here. There was a relief in that, somehow.

kio_fyre · #3 (**permalink**) 03-30-2008

[ooc: fear not, it was open ^^]

"What nature of guest?" Arlix quizzed of Kahler as though a child asking what manner of present they would be receiving. Of course, the tribe would never dream of trading living beings as presents, but a guest in Arlix's eyes; someone who didn't revel him like some untouchable deity was very much a present. That, and for a man who loved to peruse the unknown, guests were ripe informants. Him and his people knew so little beyond the walls of their sheltered culture and society, to talk to a stranger, or in any case; a guest, was absolutely a treat.

Kahler shrugged lightly as he tilted his head to look at Arlix, knowing the man was looking for entertainment out of the ordinary, as he always did. Kahler had no doubt Arlix would have wandered from the tribe long ago had he not been in so important a position. Above all to Arlix, and well, majority of the tribe, duty was paramount. Arlix was made a leader, and he was expected to lead no matter the consequences. There had been many instances in the past where he had had to make a hard decision between what was best for the people, and his own personal wants and desires. He knew the tribe would never begrudge him for any action he may take to further his own personal interest, but that was also why he would never be able to betray them for his own needs. They gave him everything he wanted anyways.

"I will have to leave that for you to decide. I never heard the circumstances upon their arrival. I was only sent to fetch your attention high chief." Kahler pointed out with a small incline of his head, causing Arlix to hold in a sigh. He hated when even his closest friend, or the closest friend he could afford treated him as the god everyone else saw him as. What would they do when they were again bitterly reminded that high chiefs were not immortal, and were merely human like them with his death? That wasn't a thought for the moment though. Right now, the important thing was the guest.

When it was obvious they were approaching, Arlix looked to the guest with intense interest in his eyes, though he quickly schooled that to impassiveness as the inescapable role of high chief returned to him.

The guards watching the intruder nodded in homage to Arlix and took a step back to allow their leader a further inspection of their quarry. He couldn't tell much beyond that the guest was humanoid, and after a close inspection, that they had been traveling. That or subject to a few difficult days and nights. He admired them for that much then; they had managed to pull through something arduous to end up like this on his doorstep. Curiously, he strode in a slow circle around the figure, eying them closely before settling before them. He reached forward then to grip the cowl and pull it away from the person's face so he could see who had been dragged into his home. His people's home. The place he protected and was obligated to serve with such an intense fealty.

His eyes made a study for a long moment before he allowed himself words, made directly to the figure before him. Normally, leaders wouldn't have addressed someone so... below them so directly, but Arlix hardly wanted to revel in the image of being pampered. "What happened to have you brought here in this manner?" He questioned in a tone that suggested his position for it was the tone of a man accustomed to being heard, and being obeyed. It was also rare for a leader to ask a question directly from the prisoner, guest, or intruder when he could easily have turned to one of the guards and asked for a report or something along those lines to discover the nature or intent of the person. Well, no one told high chiefs how to lead, only expected that they led.

"And once you're done explaining that, you could tell me what your reasons for being in this area are." As he spoke, it was obvious other people were becoming interested in what was holding their leader's attention. They began to group and flock, allowing themselves small, personal whispers and mumblings as they eyed up the stranger. Arlix didn't mind though. Just as long as they didn't intrude on this process.

Closetmonster · #4 (**permalink**) 03-31-2008

With the swift movement of the cowl, a resultant puff of travel dust rose and for a brief moment, framed the slender face that remained down turned, though the eyes were fixed upon the chief’s face. Humanoid, true. It seemed human really. If it were a tad slender, then so be it. But not all humans were of the stocky variety. And if it seemed sexless, that might have come from what seemed to be its apparent youth. Still, it wasn't apparent that it was elvin or dwarf or some other variant thereof.

It was the eyes which were of the greatest distinction upon that travel weary visage. They were large, canted, and of an almost violet color, like a fish deep within a moonlit pool, flecked in silver. The pupils inside sunk into pinpoints with the onslaught of light and fingers curled into palms as the figure jerked slightly at being revealed without permission.

It’s not as if they know your customs, Alkin, the voice warned.

Lips which had once been just this side of thin, were thinner due to illness and lack of water. They were as pale as the face which also seemed gaunt, triangular to fit both small mouth and largish eyes. A slender nose, complete with light scar across the bridge and a gentle shift in trajectory indicating a break in the past, marred the mostly unlined face. Atop it all, crowning with a glory that seemed almost atypical, despite nothing about the face being typical, was a great mass of raven curls bound at the small ears and tumbling about the nape of the neck, then bound with a leather thong which encircled the rest of the mass down into the back of the cloak and out of sight. In the curls were twigs and leaves and dust, all more than likely from whatever tussle had left marks upon the creature's face and neck.

It may have been a comely face before the bruises and scar had marred it. As it was, it was a hungry face to fit a gaze which wanted more than just food. Something about the entire being's stance bespoke a haunting.

But as to sex or race, there was little to tell. The figure’s lips curled in what could have just as easily been a snarl as a smile and the figure’s head dropped into a bow that was neither completely mocking nor completely deferential.

"Creative havoc, I’m afraid," the voice warbled higher, could have easily been feminine or that of a child, but for the husky undertones to it. "I was run aground on my way to Jarrol by a group of…" the waiter paused, unsure of if it should say what they were or not, "hounds."

Hunters. For the hunted. "I had not meant to remain. I still do not mean to do so. It may be best for all concerned if you would let me go on my way. I am heading nor-" and then the figure was bent over double by another coughing wrack.

No sooner was one fit past than another trailed in, this one weaker but more due to the weakness of the lungs. When finished, the creature spat on the ground. Dusted eyes stared at the blood mottled spot and then sighed.

"I have sought one of my own. I felt it right that he had come this way. I never intended to come through your lands but to skirt them. However, upon landing, I was found by your… illustrious warriors," and the figure took great care in keeping all judgment from speech, instead, those strange eyes danced up to lock onto those of the leader's there.

"And from there, one could say, sprung my creativity. I was trespassing, you see. And I would not answer questions."

Yet the questions were answered now. At times, it paid to answer those who held one’s life in the balance. There was little reason for anything less than half truths and the least information as possible.

That gambit did not come from me. I was always a proponent of speaking all to all. It might behoove you to do this here. Though - no, by the look of him and the way the others react, maybe… you might want to tread carefully.

In reaction to the voice, the waiter’s mouth quirked. It wasn’t always right, was it? Figment of imagination or not.

kio_fyre · #5 (**permalink**) 04-03-2008

[ooc: sorry for the late reply. Got caught up with work and school ><]

Arlix studied the figure for a long moment, taking in every detail that he could; though there still was not much for him to take in. Still, the high chief managed, and it seemed all he could do not to tilt he figure's head this way and that as though studying an animal for purchase. Arlix could not help such curiosity though. It was in his nature. He stayed his hand however, taking in the figures state. The lack of nourishment, the marks of struggle. Inwardly, he seemed to be nodding approvingly, and continued to take in everything about the figure as they spoke.

He could not help to notice that he had appeared to have invaded a bit of preferred privacy, but that could be atoned for at a later time if the figure proved worthy he supposed.

As the figure's eyes stayed on him, his remained on their's as well. Deep, calm brown eyes that seemed to hold a commanding power. Everything about him was generally plain jane to look at, but he still stood out as though a giant among men. His build was average, not all that thin, but not really buff either; though by the condition of his body, it was obvious he had seen through a few tough times as well. His skin was baked with a permanent, dark tan from sun exposure, and dark brown hair that seemed to attempt at having highlights framed a square, angular, masculine face. Along his jaw remained hints of a previously shaved beard. Not that he actually grew a beard, but his efforts to keep his face smooth seemed forever thwarted by a small shadow. He was tall, but not overly so, standing just a bit under six feet by assumption, he did however, hold himself tall.

It was hard to tell what kind of character he was, for though there were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, there was also lines of aging that suggested a very grim set visage, and they were doubly emphasized now since a grim expression was the very one he harbored.

Tilting his head every so slightly, he continued to listen to the explanations offered, and they seemed to sound reasonable enough, for he gave a soft nod before gesturing for Kahler to stand at his side. He leaned close to the other man so as not to have his words overheard, though it was obvious all the others around him wanted to hear. "Have a hearty meal and a... bath prepared for our guest. The story seems to hold, but be ever cautious." He warned.

Kahler gave the slightest incline of his head and a soft murmur of "Very well high chief" before he stood straight and turned to walk through the audience that had gathered. Still, Arlix's expression didn't change as he walked up to the intruder, not stopping until they were standing about a mere foot apart, his gaze seeking to catch and hold the intruder's with a severe intensity that seemed to hold some sort of warning. As to what, that could be very well questioned.

"I am a hospitable man," he pointed out, speaking loud enough for all to hear, then spread his arms in open invitation, an obvious sign of trust for it left all his vitals open should this intruder, soon to be pronounced guest decide to strike at their future host. That is, if they decided to stay. "And with that in mind, I invite you to stay amongst my people. For as long as you wish or require." There it was, the invitation, and the people seemed as though they were going to move along with their own business. They didn't share the same sense of fascination Arlix had with the strange, and for Arlix to invite a stranger in their midst was all too usual. They had precautions set to handle the situation though. That was the one fault Arlix had in ruling, his innate curiosity.

"Come, share a drink with me. I'll have a room and meal prepared, and anything else you may require for now." He said with bright laughing eyes as his once grim visage became inviting. Of course, though he had seemed to relax a lot, there was still an underlying tension in his old bones. A tension that suggested at the slightest wrong move, it would be Arlix who brought on the death of the announced guest.

Closetmonster · #6 (**permalink**) 04-04-2008

(and forgive me as well - I missed the notification that this was up for responding to - still, no worries, eh? Life happens and things lag at times.)

The figure’s large eyes widened at the sudden outstretching of arms. The act by the chief caused the figure to step back and begin to go into a crouch, fingers sneaking to a belt and the no longer existent blade that had been hung there. Checking itself, the figure stopped and swallowed hard, watching as the leader smiled in welcome.

Now then, all of this worry..

The figure frowned in confusion before swiftly regaining composure. It would not serve to lose selfhood now, so far from home, so close to danger. Had it not been for the manner of the chief to seem so quick to change to this effervescent giving, the waiter would have not lost composure. Rather, there would have been moments of danger and then, if luck were in spades, perhaps an escape.

As it was, the escape might have to wait. Not about to trust in the memoried voice nor the chief’s obvious pleasure, the stranger did not doubt one moment that captivity was just as likely as true invitation. With alacrity, scenarios and old maps were thought over. Was there mention of there being cannibalistic creatures in this wood?

With some surety, coming up with no such reminders of the area, the figure nodded and bowed in a tattered yet dignified manner. Under it all, there lingered a hint of having done such obeisance before and often.

Now then, if it were me, I’d be certain to introduce myself. Be aware of your title, my dearest of friends. Give yourself a high one so that he will know he’s lucky to have you in his midst. They are just primitives, aren’t they? Maybe they won’t know. Maybe they won’t even care. It always amazes me how ..

Drowning out a voice in one’s head could prove to be an act of supreme will yet Al-kin manages it with a smile that was both thin and careful. "You have my thanks. I will take you up on your offer of a meal and perhaps some water. And as much as it grieves me, it would be best that I took my leave of you sooner rather than later. The hounds will have not lost my scent completely."

Alkin!

Hounds. Too tired to hide the wince at the sloppily told truth, the stranger rubbed fingers over dusty palms then gave indication by a short nod that following was within means. "Again, my thanks."

Food, water… something to clean face and hands in. They sounded like luxuries after so long in the forests and riding the river’s roadway. Al-kin was far too worn out to attempt to find more danger in the situation. If they lied, let it be that they lied and those lies would be dealt with accordingly. If they told truth, then it was only a matter of continuing on before any tragedy could be meted out upon them. If they played with the truth as the western folk do, then … well, then all would be looked at and sometime after a rest, perhaps a leave-taking could be arranged if not bought.

Now that the struggle of to run or not was solved for the moment, there was little to hold the stranger back from following this chief and his people anywhere they wished to go, preferably if the short journey had food at the end of it.

kio_fyre · #7 (**permalink**) 04-04-2008

Arlix smiled invitingly once he realized that the figure was taking the invitation. And then the mention of hounds... he hid his wonder well though he could not help but eye the guest curiously. So something, or perhaps someone was after him. Which was all very well. His people were quite... reclusive from any outside world and in a sense, as mentioned by the sentient voice; not that Arlix knew of its existence they were simple in a form.

If that meant little to no contact with the outside world, than they were definitely simple folk. The fact that they raised mortals like a god above them... well, not only simple folk did that. In a more 'advanced' world, Arlix could possibly have been viewed as a king. Something untouchable and worshiped by many. Or at least, that was what the role was supposed to mean a lot of the time.

Arlix led the figure, assuming they followed, to a domed tent made of overlapping layers of hide and such, all cured and tanned though remaining of a rough quality. As to why, well that could be explained in two ways; either they were cured in such a fashion to be tough because they were meant to suffer exposure. Or perhaps the exposure to the atmosphere itself had caused the hides to warp to fit to the abode. Though seemingly made in a fashion that suggested they traveled often, once inside a sturdy tent flap, it seemed to have a more permanent feel.

Arlix moved across the room where cushions laid about in a fashion that suggested this was a building used as a gathering place, and as had been prepared by the people; as though already knowing that the high chief would have invited the stranger into their midst. On a waist high table of sorts sat a fine clay bowl, carved to resemble animals and such, hosting steaming water. Smiling, Arlix gestured for the figure to step forward and relieve themselves of the grime of travel as he moved off again across the room to pluck a decanter and two simple cups off of another table and pouring what seemed to be a spiced rum into the two cups.

"If you realize the drink is not to your liking when you wash up, there is plain water. And the meal promised will be a while in the coming, for of course, it must be prepared." He explained. The whole atmosphere suggested that he was very used to hosting guests. Taking up his own cup, and leaving the second for the figure, he settled down in one of the cushions. "While we're waiting," he implored, swishing the dark liquid before sipping at it like the most dignified gentleman at a court. "Do tell me in depth about yourself."

Though it was only the two of them in the domed hut, there were guards waiting outside, ready to burst in at the slightest beckon from Arlix. Though the high chief assumed the figure was already aware of that.

[ooc: sorry if it seems like a bit of a power play, but I figured it would be acceptable to keep things moving. And also, we should probably figure out a plot if this is going to be more than just a random encounter.]

Closetmonster · #8 (**permalink**) 04-04-2008

There was a flow to the world as Al-kin followed the chief into his waiting tent. There, warmth and a slight darkness, lit only by veered sunlight off of the doorway and the candlelight, and then when the door flap closed, only the candle light, everything conspired to make home seem close.

Walking with a velvet softness, like one who might have made it a custom to go without sound, Al-kin crossed to the bowl of warm water. Bending, closing eyes, Al-kin cupped and led steam upwards, directed it to brush cheeks and lips, before making a sigil in the air above it and bowing low before the bowl.

Customs finished, Al-kin removed the cloak that had hidden everything but boots and knees and hands, face and some of the neck.

Now, with the thick cloak pooled in dust on the floor, the entirety of the chief’s guest came to light, so to speak. Following the cloak fell an empty scabbard, a heavy belt that must have money in it from the dull metallic clunk. After this, hand guards that looked very much like some manner of archer’s glove. Wrist guards as well. Each piece of leather and cloth was a piece of another land, of another being, of the travel that had been nonstop for almost two years.

The visitor dropped down, crouched at the foot of the table. Shin guards removed from the inside of laced up boots were placed to the side along with an empty knife sheath which had been strapped to a calf. The boots too, came undone and were put atop the pile, lacings laid over all like miniature river snakes.

Unburdened, there was an ethereal grace to everything Al-kin did. Dressed only in a dark green shirt reaching down past hips and to forearms, as well as dark brown pants falling just below the knee and gathered just below where the boots would have covered, all that remained was a frailty draped over slim shoulders. Slender calves sloped down to delicate ankles, covered in dust but golden nevertheless. Fine boned feet showed long miles of calluses. Hands made of bird bones raised to the bowl as the entire body uncoiled to rise above and bend over the cleaning water. A hem of the shirt was dipped into the warm water and Al-kin bent to wash face and hands with it, watching the grime of travel swiped away with each pass.

Now, perhaps it’s time to choose? You’ve opportunities, brood mare or competition to the masses, my dear.

Al-kin frowned. That was a difficulty being with a people to whom gender raised certain expectations. But with guest status, there was time still to decide.

So in truth, there was a little of each gender upon Al-kin when turned to the chief. Taking the cloths for washing, Al-kin dipped them into the water and wrung them out. Then with a balance that rivaled that of some birds, lifted a foot and began to cleanse it, whilst standing on one leg.

"In depth," Al-kin allowed amusement to tinge the tones. "I don’t suppose you have a year, do you?" A delicate arched brow raised and then fell as, intent on the balls of one slender foot, Al-kin bent double to cleanse it.

One leg done, the other was next and Al-kin did not look up to continue the conversation. Rather, content with cleansing and a less formal manner, continued without the common story telling posture. It was not, in the end, much of a story.

"I am named Alanin by mine. We are the People. But we are considered many a thing by the others in the land. Elves call us cruth mar athrú. To the dwarven people, we are dek braut. Humans seem to have many names for us. We are called pooka, sea folk, shapers though we are not so malleable as the true shifters, fae." Al-kin slowed and smiled while straightening into a long, limber stretch. There was, in that stretch, all of the comfort of having a moment to breathe again.

But the deep breath which accompanied the stretch broke into the thick cough of before and Al-kin reached for the table for strength, waiting for the paroxysm to pass.

Using a sleeve that was thankfully dark enough to have covered the bloody spittle, Al-kin took a smaller breath and, after the spiced drink was gathered in hand, walked barefooted to where the chief sat. With a show of embarrassment for the travel dust that remained, Al-kin settled upon a cushion and let loose a weary sigh.

"It matters not what we are called. What matters is that of late, I have journeyed a long way. It has been my desire to find one of our own who had been cast out. It is my belief that this one was falsely accused and I strive to right a wrong. But, our customs dictate that such an act is wrong and as such, bad luck has.. hounded," Al-kin’s lips curve at the pun, "my every step. The latest of which was breaking in on a party of hunters and chasing off their game. I think, for a time, they have come to think of me as the new prey."

With the realization that most hunters would not chase anyone down over such a slight, Al-kin debated but a moment before adding, "It was a Hunt, not just a band of hunters. A fortnight ago I fell in upon a Hunt and the Hunt Hounds have not lost my scent since." A smirk crossed those thin lips and the dusky eyes dropped to the cup which hadn’t yet been tasted.

"Thus, night time will be a proving point, I dare say. If you’d rather I left before, you need only say."

[ooc: I can say with a great deal of surety that I trust whatever directions that you take my character, so no - it was not considered by me to be a power play but a means to move us on in a particular direction. Please feel free to do so again. As for plot, yes. I agree on that score. I was, at the moment, just feeling things out. But if you'd like to give it more direction, I await any ideas you have, or you could give it a push and I'll go with whatever you decide. Otherwise, I'm sure the characters themselves will throw a monkey wrench or two into the heretofore nonexistent plot line. Heh.]

kio_fyre · #9 (**permalink**) 04-05-2008

Arlix watched as the figure disrobed from the heavier outfits, not minding as they were all dropped and piled to the ground. His composure at the moment seemed very laid back, as though little would bother him. He chuckled softly when he watched her rid of all the travel dust and such, deciding to hold his tongue about the actual bath that was being prepared. He realized she might have preferred the bath before food, but oh well. Things were running on his schedule he supposed.

His brows knitted when he heard the coughing fit though, and he moved to stand up and aid her, though remembered that he was but a host. Not a nanny. It wouldn't be good in his position to be too hospitable. He was a chief, not a mother, or inn keeper, or anything along that sort looking only for the guest's comfort. He listened with interest to the explanation offered to him, noticing how parts of it changed as he figured veiled truths were becoming full truths. That was only what he could assume. He had no proof, and probably would never have any proof in words that what she was saying was true, but that was the nature of trust. He decided to believe her anyways.

This hunt was still following her too... this left a hard decision for him to make. He could either think for his own interests, or make a decision based on the best interests of the tribe... which was what he probably should have done, but Arlix absolutely adored the experience that change and the strange allowed him. That, and he was sure the people would forgive him for just this one respite.

"Please, I implore you to make use of our offer of hospitality. If the hunted is to prevail, the hunted must rest." He pointed out. "It would not do me good to turn you out so soon into peril that seeks you." He took a deeper swig from his glass, the strong spices seeming to rejuvenate him. "Do not worry for us, we take good care of ourselves and will not let the hounds near." He promised. "For now, you are in the protective folds of my people, my empire of sorts if you will. We balk not at those who deign to threaten us" he offered, nodding his head formally as he reclined in his cushion.

"However, it is a pleasure to be in your company Alanin... I cannot say that I have heard of the pooka before hand... but please, my ears are open to anything you would like to disclose." He smiled then, swirling the liquid in his cup as though it amused him greatly. "The name of my origin is Arlix. I implore you to use it when other ears are not about, but I must inform you that around my people, it would be best if you referred to me as high chief. I claim no leadership over you, but it might cause less suspicion, and work in you favor" he said with a small smile.

He told many of his trusted allies to call him by his original name when disclosed with privacy. Not many people actually did as were told, but Arlix could not help but to try.

It was then that the tent flap came aside, letting in the light of outdoors, and Arlix made a small, flat line gesture with his hand that signaled the conversation should at the very least be paused for the moment as a woman from the tribe came in carrying a tray filled with assortments of food and set it down on some randomly placed table nearby that was lower to the ground and could be sat near, before moving the table closer to Alarin so she wouldn't have to move.

Arlix nodded his silent thanks, and then the woman left, flashing the chief an almost amused smile before the tent flap closed. Arlix couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, recognizing the woman as the mother to one of his children. Arlix was a father of three. As a man of 37, it was expected he would have heirs should something happen. Of course, being the leader of his people; he was also not allowed to wed, or take a permanent lover. That meant his three children were all from different woman. Something that simply had to be lived with in their society.

His attention turned back to his guest then as he swept an arm to the food. "Please, eat." He implored. "I'm quite sure you could use a good meal better than I."

Upon the plate was a venison, not too small, yet not too big; but hardly enough for a full meal. Accompanying it were some vegetables, as well as a few wild herbs, safe to eat rest assured. Sitting by the venison was also slices of what seemed to be bread, though it was dark in texture so it could be assumed that it was a whole grain bread made from some wild foliage. All safe to eat, but whether or not it was accepted and eaten was obviously up to Alarin.

[ooc: I don't really have anything in mind at the moment. We could wait and see how things turn out]

Closetmonster · #10 (**permalink**) 04-05-2008

Al-kin attentively listened to all the chief had to say. Eyes danced over his face and body as he talked, gaging each reaction, each small microcosm of emotion there. It was obvious that the chief of this people was well trained and well composed. Yet his culture ranged all about him and it was this that Al-kin endeavored to read. For to not know what expectations were required could prove fatal and nearly had a time or two.

The relief came when with a start, Al-kin realized that the chief did not see his guest as a danger, nor as a prisoner. The giving of names outside of his tribal culture proved that. It amused Al-kin to note that the chief seemed to almost indicate he felt Al-kin as an equal by the act. But then, that would have assumed that to Arlix’s people, names meant the same as they did to Al-kin’s. There was high doubt of that being true. Still, due to Al-kin’s own care in providing a name, such things were of greater import and thus, a bit of a conundrum.

The woman come and gone, food set before them, Al-kin tries the liquid. The taste is bitter with a thick, sour taste underlying the spice and sweet. It is such a complex taste for the traveler that another taste is taken and Al-kin’s face cannot keep from showing the complete newness of the experience. There had been ale in the ale houses along the way, for human kind drank little in the way of water, yet Al-kin had not sat to break bread with any human and therefore hadn’t felt the need to drink the human’s drink.

After a small cough which as due more to the strength of the drink and less to the state of lungs, Al-kin grunted and put the cup down alongside one foot. A small square of white cloth, embroidered with sigils along the edges was removed from a back pocket and placed upon Al-kin’s lap. Then, nodding in acceptance, Al-kin too reached for meat and bread. That it might be treated with poison or some other danger did not outweigh the hospitality shown and Al-kin was dreadfully hungry as well.

"I thank you for the offer for respite. My name too is but a calling and I have others which I am called. But I’m sorry to say, not by those we would call stranger," Al-kin felt the need to almost apologize for not taking the man into confidence in the same way. "However, you honor me with your name and I will strive to respect your wishes." Al-kin bowed at the chest as one might to another in proper gratitude, not so deeply, accepting the token of equality.

"You ask what a pooka is," Al-kin smiled. "I cannot say myself. I was but of the People until I came out of the People and began my search. I have heard many a word to describe my kind since, yet cannot say what it is about us that gives others the right to name us so." A delicate brow arched, Al-kin gazed at the human. "There is little of the magic and power that is ascribed to us in each description. Yet I suspect that we seem as strange to other kinds as other kinds do to us. We often give nomikers to those we do not understand. And there has been small opportunity to know my kind. My people do not often leave their homeland. Generally only for reasons of being cast out.

"Yet that is most done for insanity or madness, what I’ve heard your kind call evil intentions. So perhaps due to the hearts of those which have been cast away, such words as trickster might fit?" Al-kin attempted also to understand, but there was little sense in it. Al-kin’s life had not included talk about or even with other beings until quite recently.

The traveler ate with care not to spill even the slightest crumb, one hand cupped under a chin, and yet did not seem to mind talking around the food. Now and again, the hand which caught the crumbs would dance over the white cloth and drop them into it, but went back to capture any others.

Al-kin gazed at the leader of this small band of humans. "It interests me how your kind came to still be here, to live like this, when there is so much offered in your outside world. You are not ignorant of it. I can tell by the way in which you have not balked from me.

"You must recognize that your way of life is looked down on by some and thought of as simple by others. Yet you continue to lead your people to live as they do. This intrigues me. You are not like my people in this, for my people do not know of the outside world nor does the outside world know much of them."

Al-kin’s gaze was intent and questioning. "The map I was given indicated your existence. You live in a land of beauty and yet none have come to take it from you by force or magic. Is it that others think of you as too insignificant to bother with or that others fear you?"

Tilted head, Al-kin gazed at this human while chewing in thought. To be sure, Arlix was a man who exuded confidence and was all as much a leader as some of the warrior leaders Al-kin had seen. Yet the man did not seem to be so much a warrior as a king. Still, Al-kin knew that strength and charisma could stretch so far. At some time, Arlix and his people had to have dealt with those others in the outside world. Arlix’s very response to Al-kin stated as much.

[Sounds good to me. I'm sure some direction will occur soon enough.]

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