Awan, a city of two worlds; ostensibly under the great purview of Ur, even administered by an Akkadian ensi, yet similarly boasting a sizable population of Kassite people. Some might have called it an experiment by the preeminent Šar Kiššati, others might call it a method of soft control, of preparing the barbarians of Zagros for their eventual imperial occupation. . .
Regardless of such conjecture Awan has found a certain homeostasis between its polity. One that the Hellions have no interest in upsetting. . .
SIRIS: "Come on then, come on. Thought I saw an azure cloak in the street, can't be too careful." The swordsman wore a smirk as he spoke, half in jest, half with the utmost deadly truth coupled with an eagle eye to the bustling ways of the city. He ushered in a slight form enwrapped heavily in silk.
IA: "Akkadian. Hands. Off." Her voice was a whisper, but a harsh one as she moved with purpose into the hostel their company had all but rented full out.
Siris simply nodded, though his grin grew, "Starting to realize I need to find myself a Kassite girl. Iddin doesn't know what he's missing; spicy."
LAHAMU: "Nice to see you're in high spirits. Siris."
SIRIS: "Hahaa. . . Not you of course Lahamu, you're one of a kind, heh heh. . ." He ran a hand down the sweat slick back of his neck and promptly sealed his lips as the sub-captain and Ashür passed into the building as well; granting him their trademarked glares all the while.
One more figure ambles toward the mudbrick hostel, enrobed and humming a tune.
SIRIS: "Where in all of Erṣetu have you been?" The merc muses with a wry grin, one hand resting on his sheathed blade while leaning himself against a wall.
MUNAKATA: "Guarding the rear." Says the fellow matter-of-factly, heading up the small steps before bronze rasps against leather and Siris' blade stays his movement. Loosening his collar, the young man adds, "You know how Ninil gets on her own, she needs someone to help with the caravan."
SIRIS: "Bullshit." Said he, still wearing that punchable smirk. "Wanna know what I think?"
SIRIS: "You're too much of a coward to join us in a real battle. It's no wonder why your old man is so disappointed in you Munakata - Even Lahamu was on the field at Der. What were you doing? Tending to the fire at camp?" Siris bursts into a mocking laugh that only seems to seethe Munakata more.
MUNAKATA: "I just don't want to take all the glory for myself, that's all. I like to let futureless losers like yourself take to the fore."
SIRIS: "Oh yeah?" He jeered, still chuckling. "Wanna bet? Come join us on the front then, we'll see who gets more glory in the next one." With that Siris sheathed his blade again and began to whistle as he made his way inside. "Sorry for your loss; in advance!"
MUNAKATA: "Prick." With a shrug, and truthfully a smile of his own, he climbed the little stair into the building as well, "Poor idiot doesn't know I could blow him away with a single word."
It was busy. Busy enough for crotchety old fella whose been running it since 'before the Zagros were mountains' he'd say. The influx of mercenaries pouring into his door put a sour note on his otherwise mediocre day, still, mercs had their aurums about them, and up front too as long as you didn't ask too many questions. This was just as well amenable to Iddin-Ninshubar who moved with purpose for the man bearing their payment - he didn't trust bankers, money-lenders, and writ writers, only the cold touch of copper, silver, and glass of course.
NINIL: "Finally~ Food that isn't salted beef or dried fish. . . I'll never be unfaithful again." Rang the young archer, gathering a bowl of the hostel's hearty public stew. "Hey! Let's all drink to Balathu! You've got wine right old man~?"
One of the Inn's patrons, resting on their loansome rose a wooden cup high in concert. "More here as well! I'll join you for a drink." Ninil drew herself over bearing a wide toothy smile. "Who is it we're drinking too then?"
NINIL: "Balathu! Kindest merc I ever knew. Damn bandits got him. . ." She tries to keep her spirits high, but the veneer cracks some.
"Bandits hm? Seems even Šar Kiššati in their infinite grace cannot assuage the destitute from desperation. . ." The pair of them withdraw into themselves some before at last their cups are filled electing the patron to toast. "To Balathu then. To. . . Fallen comrades."
This was the rest they needed. One job to the next for weeks; it'd been since that scholar 'Kastilus' contracted them to descend into that Yeek infested ziggurat and spill a barrel's worth of blood for his own aims. At least the man paid. . . To finally have beds calling to them that were more than straw mats and food more appetizing than chewing on leather, it was a balm to their otherwise flagging morale. Not to mention Captain Doan-Nasir collecting their pay for the retaking of Der, he and the rest of the Hellions should arrive in Awan in a week and some change. The only rub - What to do with this 'Ia' woman?
To that end it isn't long before the Hellions are all gathered in their rented quarters. The sub-captain stands at the head of a large table, across from which Ia unveils herself. He addresses his men first.
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "Well done." He began, expression unchanging and ever stern. The priest carefully took account of the Hellions, passing his silent judgement upon them with a goodly sum of relief - despite their loss it seemed hearts had not driven down into an abyss. "Well done Hellions. Not only have we turned a poor situation around, but so too have we garnered a new glint. Take pride in your prowess, but. . . Do not grow complacent. Though I will preserve your place beside immaculate Zuzu as I have our Balathu, pray; do not hasten yourself there. Be tempered - the teardrop shape is strongest under pressure, but dare not snap its tail." A general nod and agreement to the man's 'wisdom' goes about the room before he refocuses. "Now. The Kassite woman-"
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "You will tell us all, you will not obfuscate a single detail; most presently on my mind, why were you being pursued by Šar Kiššati's finest? Who are you? What is it you wish from our employment. Most importantly - If we should aid you, how will you pay us?" Before she can answer he adds, "Speak carefully, do not think we will not collect on your head if we must."
The crimson headed Kassite sucks in a deep breath, barely disguising her disdain for Iddin. "I am Ia." She refrains, gauging the hardened mercenaries about the room, she couldn't help but feel she'd traded one pride of lions for another, yet, Lyun's presence kept her centered. Maybe it was kinship, or perhaps simply the aura he exuded, maybe it was the same for the rest of these sellswords. "Anqullumašḫu - I am called. She who has inherited the Spirit of the Flame. I understand the meaning of this is lost on you, so this is all you need to hear of who I am. "
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "I will be the one to determine what we do and do not need to know. Speak. What is this barbarian custom?"
LYUN: "She is meant to guide our people."
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "You choose a child to lead? Then it is no wonder why your people are so draconian." Iddin lets loose a rumbling chuckle, soused with pity.
She sucks in another deep breath before responding, measuredly so, "Every second generation a woman is born for which the Flame inhabits, it drives us to steward our fellow kith and kin across Zagros."
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "A mere heretical superstition. . . I see." The glass-priest gently scratches at his chin, raising a brow, "So then - our upstanding men of Uruk simply wished to root out your influence lest you drum up more senseless thugs to sack our cities."
IA: "That was never our intention!" Ia cried, emotion flaring up in those burning eyes of hers. "We left to stop Kashtilashu, to stop a tragedy from befalling. . . Now he's dead. They're all dead, aren't they?"
She retracts into herself as the merc's cold summation. ". . ."
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "Intentions are one thing, perception is another. After what happened it would surprise me if a commandment comes down from Uruk to expel all of your people from these lands." Iddin redoubled his voice, honing in on his line of inquiry again. "So tell me then, do you have any other reason to have been targeted? First by brigands, second by soldiers."
IA: "Aside from reprisal for my uncle's actions. . ?" She considered, a distant thought raising its dark head. "Maybe your Šar Kiššati simply desires a war on their hands. Calling themself 'King of Everything'. Hmmph."
ZARIF: "Everything. Hah!" The quartermaster cannot help but laugh, "There is more from here to the west than there is grains in the sand dial of this so-called King of Everything's lifespan. They cannot hope to conquer it all."
ASHUR: "But they'll try. And that's our purest hope as sellswords, isn't it?"
The sub-captain clears his throat, "Akkad has reason enough for sake of Der and the death of its ensi but. . . So be it. I will accept these words. For now. Tell us then, Anqullumašḫu - What is it you want from us?"
IA: "Simple. I hire you to escort me safely through the Izeh Pass. I don't care how you do it, just get me past the border checkpoint that I may return home. That will be your charge."
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "You. Will hire us? Expect us again to clash with Imperial Agents?" Again, Iddin is taken by an uncharacteristic humor. "You, whom holds no more than ten silvered coins expect to employ the Hellions of Gyr?" After chuckling it off the man realizes the veracity of her claim, the purpose in her gaze, and responds in kind. "There is nothing more to discuss, you may stay the night, but be on your way come-" A gemstone, crystalline as the glass orb affixed to Iddin's staff yet dyed the most brilliant shade of red is cast across the table. It's small. But speaks of value. The priest's gaze remains firmly affixed.
IA: "The Zagros is brimming with untapped beauty, sellsword. Expect more when we arrive." The sub-captain stares for a time, eventually moving his gaze toward Lyun who responds with a firm nod to his wordless query. He pockets the ruby.
IDDIN-NINSHUBAR: "Izeh pass. . . There are other routes into your lands. Ways that do not pass under a watchful gilded eye."
IA: "Are you not awaiting someone? No. This is my only offer, I cannot delay while you Akkadians are planning on marching us down."
A hand clasps on Iddin's shoulder while he pinches at his forehead, "We can handle it boss." Speaks up Siris, who rarely makes his thoughts known during 'business'. "We rest up tonight, then in and out, just one more day of work ain't too bad. The Lady's right anyhow, we've gotta be here to welcome the Captain."
ZARIF: "We will disguise as merchants from Awan here, Lyun as our guide. If it is a city of Kassite and Akkadians both, they must come and go, no?"
ASHUR: "Whatever our strategy, let's not fly our banner."
The man sighs. He reaches back into a folded pocket, feeling the heat of the ruby between his fingers. In a flash he casts it into the air catching the last motes of sunlight beaming through a porthole window. Its reflection casts a vibrant red upon Ia until it clatters down back onto the table. "Fine." He ruminates at last, "Tonight is for rest and preparation. Tomorrow we will set out for Izeh. Let this matter be adjourned. . ."
