Post by Leonida on May 4, 2023 8:12:04 GMT
(Following the events of Devils and Dust.)
In the darkest wharf of the Old Port, on every night the cold moon hangs in the sky, blood is spilled. Leonida stops her red-stained fist when the referee pulls her off her unconscious opponent, now lying in a messy heap on the damp, rotting boardwalk, the quarterstaff in his limp hands having been pathetically broken in two. The ref raises her arm high in the air and shouts to declare her the winner, as if that wasn’t already obvious.
Some members of the crowd around them cheer and whistle, others mumble and groan in frustration at the loss of their gold. Most of them are drunk fishermen and dock workers with nothing better to spend their money on, but standing apart from them is a group of intoxicated, slightly dishevelled, young gentlemen, whooping and laughing at the sight of the filthy poors beating the shit out of each other. All are united in their love for ritual bloodsport.
Almost hidden among the rowdy rich spectators, a tall, dark figure clad in a black coat and top hat stands calmly, clapping politely at the victory he just witnessed. Though she tries not to look at him when she walks out of the makeshift arena, she can feel his intense crimson gaze burning a hole into the side of her head. She pushes her way past several sweaty bodies as the unconscious man is dragged off and two new fighters enter the ring: a big orc and a big goliath. The crowd erupts in sadistic excitement.
Leonida stops in front of a piling on which she had placed her meagre belongings and starts unwrapping the bloodied bandages on her hands. She hears the drow stepping behind her when she reaches for a roll of clean bandages. The lightly sweet scent of roses and oakmoss on his clothes somehow cuts through the odiferous mix of sweat, seawater, and cheap booze in the air.
“I knew I was right to place my bet on you. You never disappoint.”
“How do you always know where to find me?”
“I’ve already told you, Miss Leonida. My web spans for miles and miles, and I can sense every little vibration in its invisible threads…”
Even though she still has her back to him, he can tell she’s scowling. “What do you want?”
“The Vazroques. I believe you were acquainted with them, yes?”
The fateful name being uttered gives her a brief pause. Slowly, she turns around to face him, a flicker of intrigue in her fiery, slit-pupiled eyes. “Yeah… Scumbag mages. Owned a dance hall in Kundar called the Aurora with their benefactor, a man called The White Moth. They were keeping a genasi girl there, feeding her drugs, making her reliant on them so she can power their dance lights, or whatever. But that’s over and done with now. Why do you ask?”
“One of them showed their face in Enlace recently. Morena, the human.”
“No shit? What were they doing there? Tryina get the girl back?”
“Just cheekily peeking through a portal she opened near that giant crystal of theirs as Enlace was signing a diplomatic accord with Daring Heights. It just so happens that she was also wearing a pin associated with anti-Dawnlands movements happening all over Kantas and Joran. Now, what exactly happened the last time you saw them?”
Leonida folds her lean-muscled arms. “We killed the White Moth and their lawyer in the Aurora, along with a handful of civilians. Certain members of our party were being reckless,” she adds when he raises a brow at her. “We convinced the genasi girl to leave, too. The Vazroques turned tail soon as they saw that things were not gonna go their way. Is Morena still there, in Enlace?”
“I’m afraid not. She closed the portal after a hot second. Do you have any idea where they might be hiding?”
“No. But they got money. Wouldn’t be hard for ‘em to find someplace to lay low, even in Kundar.”
“Right… And are you aware if the Vazroques have ever expressed anti-Dawnlands sentiment in any way?”
“No. Not to my knowledge. Didn’t seem like they gave a damn about the Dawnlands. Felt to me like all they cared about was their club, their money…and each other.”
“And they have just lost two out of three on that list, thanks to Dawnlanders…” Jaezred muses out loud.
She can see where his line of thinking is going. The Vazroques may not follow any ideology, but oftentimes, revenge is motivation enough. “Guess we really put ‘em outta their day job, huh?”
He grins. “Guess you did. So…what are you going to do about them?”
“I’m not beholden to you, Vandree.”
“Oh no, I’m not asking you to do anything, least of all for little old me. I’m just asking what you intend to do with this information.”
“Hm. I don’t like leaving loose ends untied, but it’s not like I can do shit against foes who can teleport hundreds of feet away in the blink of an eye.” She gazes down at her freshly-bandaged hands as she squeezes them into fists. “I’m not making excuses for myself, though. I know that’s something I gotta work on.”
A very loud and wet smack is heard from the arena and the crowd collectively lets out an “Ooooh!”
Leonida gives Jaezred a curt nod. “Thanks for the info. Maybe I will go after those cowards one day and finish the job. But I gotta get myself ready first.”
Her eyes flick past him. He glances over his shoulder, following her gaze, and sees another pit fighter warming up behind the ring of spectators — someone who appears to be a sword-wielding mage. The grin on his face grows wider as he tips his hat to her. He pities the poor fellow already. “Good luck, Miss Leonida.”
In the darkest wharf of the Old Port, on every night the cold moon hangs in the sky, blood is spilled. Leonida stops her red-stained fist when the referee pulls her off her unconscious opponent, now lying in a messy heap on the damp, rotting boardwalk, the quarterstaff in his limp hands having been pathetically broken in two. The ref raises her arm high in the air and shouts to declare her the winner, as if that wasn’t already obvious.
Some members of the crowd around them cheer and whistle, others mumble and groan in frustration at the loss of their gold. Most of them are drunk fishermen and dock workers with nothing better to spend their money on, but standing apart from them is a group of intoxicated, slightly dishevelled, young gentlemen, whooping and laughing at the sight of the filthy poors beating the shit out of each other. All are united in their love for ritual bloodsport.
Almost hidden among the rowdy rich spectators, a tall, dark figure clad in a black coat and top hat stands calmly, clapping politely at the victory he just witnessed. Though she tries not to look at him when she walks out of the makeshift arena, she can feel his intense crimson gaze burning a hole into the side of her head. She pushes her way past several sweaty bodies as the unconscious man is dragged off and two new fighters enter the ring: a big orc and a big goliath. The crowd erupts in sadistic excitement.
Leonida stops in front of a piling on which she had placed her meagre belongings and starts unwrapping the bloodied bandages on her hands. She hears the drow stepping behind her when she reaches for a roll of clean bandages. The lightly sweet scent of roses and oakmoss on his clothes somehow cuts through the odiferous mix of sweat, seawater, and cheap booze in the air.
“I knew I was right to place my bet on you. You never disappoint.”
“How do you always know where to find me?”
“I’ve already told you, Miss Leonida. My web spans for miles and miles, and I can sense every little vibration in its invisible threads…”
Even though she still has her back to him, he can tell she’s scowling. “What do you want?”
“The Vazroques. I believe you were acquainted with them, yes?”
The fateful name being uttered gives her a brief pause. Slowly, she turns around to face him, a flicker of intrigue in her fiery, slit-pupiled eyes. “Yeah… Scumbag mages. Owned a dance hall in Kundar called the Aurora with their benefactor, a man called The White Moth. They were keeping a genasi girl there, feeding her drugs, making her reliant on them so she can power their dance lights, or whatever. But that’s over and done with now. Why do you ask?”
“One of them showed their face in Enlace recently. Morena, the human.”
“No shit? What were they doing there? Tryina get the girl back?”
“Just cheekily peeking through a portal she opened near that giant crystal of theirs as Enlace was signing a diplomatic accord with Daring Heights. It just so happens that she was also wearing a pin associated with anti-Dawnlands movements happening all over Kantas and Joran. Now, what exactly happened the last time you saw them?”
Leonida folds her lean-muscled arms. “We killed the White Moth and their lawyer in the Aurora, along with a handful of civilians. Certain members of our party were being reckless,” she adds when he raises a brow at her. “We convinced the genasi girl to leave, too. The Vazroques turned tail soon as they saw that things were not gonna go their way. Is Morena still there, in Enlace?”
“I’m afraid not. She closed the portal after a hot second. Do you have any idea where they might be hiding?”
“No. But they got money. Wouldn’t be hard for ‘em to find someplace to lay low, even in Kundar.”
“Right… And are you aware if the Vazroques have ever expressed anti-Dawnlands sentiment in any way?”
“No. Not to my knowledge. Didn’t seem like they gave a damn about the Dawnlands. Felt to me like all they cared about was their club, their money…and each other.”
“And they have just lost two out of three on that list, thanks to Dawnlanders…” Jaezred muses out loud.
She can see where his line of thinking is going. The Vazroques may not follow any ideology, but oftentimes, revenge is motivation enough. “Guess we really put ‘em outta their day job, huh?”
He grins. “Guess you did. So…what are you going to do about them?”
“I’m not beholden to you, Vandree.”
“Oh no, I’m not asking you to do anything, least of all for little old me. I’m just asking what you intend to do with this information.”
“Hm. I don’t like leaving loose ends untied, but it’s not like I can do shit against foes who can teleport hundreds of feet away in the blink of an eye.” She gazes down at her freshly-bandaged hands as she squeezes them into fists. “I’m not making excuses for myself, though. I know that’s something I gotta work on.”
A very loud and wet smack is heard from the arena and the crowd collectively lets out an “Ooooh!”
Leonida gives Jaezred a curt nod. “Thanks for the info. Maybe I will go after those cowards one day and finish the job. But I gotta get myself ready first.”
Her eyes flick past him. He glances over his shoulder, following her gaze, and sees another pit fighter warming up behind the ring of spectators — someone who appears to be a sword-wielding mage. The grin on his face grows wider as he tips his hat to her. He pities the poor fellow already. “Good luck, Miss Leonida.”