[M] Tabula Rasa (F)

[Kris]

OOC




Ischyrr

Small harbor town. It was founded by Brann the fisher and his aged wife Mariam about 100 years ago, but aside of drawing more and more fishers and ships, the town never really much developed.

The stench of fish hit you the moment you enter the city, and despite the fact the city is rather well preserved and clean, there are many beggars lying about.

It said that the people here worship some kind of a Sea God (along with some fancy harem of Mermaids and other sea warriors), but again, there have been just too many gods to count and know who exactly this god is.

Well, you have come here... better start questioning... something... or someone in this town called to you.

You better start asking the people? or visit the tavern? Or maybe just ask the local harlot?

Good luck.

[Froggy]

The few gold coins in her pocket were the heaviest thing on her person at that time. Anabeth had left behind a decent life with a decent job and a known status. Here, though... the stench of fish hit her like the smell of urine on the ship she had arrived from. She wasn't sure which smell was worse and couldn't help but to compare the two as she walked along the cobblestone path, her worn shoes offering little protection from the rough surface. She had to sort out her priorities...why were there voices in her head telling her to leave a known life behind for an unknown future?

She had so little money and was trying to decide what might be the wisest way to spend it...on a decent place to stay for the night, or on a plate of food. She could see beggars on the streets, which surprised her as the town seemed to be relatively well kept...or well, more so than her previous place of residence. The cobblestone path led to a walkway nearby containing small shops and what appeared to be a market at the end. She wondered if employment might be found there, given that she had abilities to heal and that she had experience as a servant.

Perhaps first, before venturing off to find the voice that had called for her, she might do everything in her power to make her stay as comfortable as possible. Who knows...she might even find the meaning of the voice within the market?

[Juicesir]

He couldn't believe it: he was here! This place, whatever it was, felt right. The dream, the vision, whatever it was, had led him here to this little town upon the harbor. Compared to the large city he had just walked from, it felt much better. There weren't nearly as many beggars on the streets as they had in the capital, and everything looked so clean! Pristine ocean air filled the young boy's lungs as he jauntily made his way down the alleys and twisting streets of the littoral town.

Dalegr Reies had only a raggedy, too large pair of trousers, white long-sleeved shirt, butcher's apron, and satchel full of small personal items to his name. The thing of most value he had was a small locket of gilt silver with a small emerald inlaid upon the face. But that he would never part with. Even on the long walk from the capital to this harbor town, despite lack of food and proper clothing, he had wearied the trail.

He gave looks at all the people as if they were new, as if people this normal could not exist. Here, the folk seemed to take things at a slower pace. There was less bustle, and even even was waved at once by a woman on her way out with a basket. He had smiled, unsure of what to do.

It was a while before he found a place which suited him for rest. A small alleyway, not far off the main thoroughfare, where but a few of the town's beggars had fashioned a small makeshift house in the alley. Huddled against the walls, he approached them. He had no compunctions about resting with the unsheltered, having once lived such a life himself.

"Mind if I rest here?" His boyish voice made him suddenly highly self-conscious. The three men seated there were all far older than he. Two had the gruff glint of the sea in their eyes, and shared a look which might have been of brothers. Twins perhaps, even. The other man was much older. He had a short cropped snow white beard and wore a cap, his overalls browned either from dirt or age.

The eldest gave a nod, and motioned for him to sit. Slinging his pack off of his shoulders, he seated himself. Damp ground greeted his bony buttocks, and he again was made aware of just how hungry he was. But there was a different hunger which must be sated first. "Sir, if I may so ask, what town is it that I am in?"

[Locke]

"Grab the fuckin' rope boy!"

A burly sailor snapped at one of the many dock boys, nervously awaiting boats to come and moor up at the harbour. The sailor flung the rope at him with great force, almost knocking the child off his feet as he attempted to catch it with both hands.

"They get worse every fuckin' year." He snarled as the poor boy desperately moored the boat.

The sailors little boat had traversed far and wide upon the request of a very... unique customer. The sailor only accepted the greatest sum of coin for such a venture, a sum of which he'd be sure to have gambled away by the next morrow.

"Right, 'ere we are." He grumbled "Ischyrr. Now lets see that gold." He continued greedily, holding out his dirty, weatherbeaten palms.

The customer slowly opened his eyes, trying to believe his nostrils as he inhaled the overwhelming stench of tuna. Calmly, he took to his feet, his hands clasped together softly. He stepped off onto the mossy cobblestone dock, scanning the harbour silently.

"Oi. Don't 'ave all day." The sailor demanded before sending a globule of spit surging into the water below.

Omi reached into his pouch before procuring a small bag, filled with ample gold pieces. He softly hovered it above the sailors hands, before he recklessly grabbed the gold from his grip. He chuckled to himself proudly as he untied the bag, letting several golden pieces cascade down into his palm. "Oh-ho-ho. That's gorgeous that is..." He marvelled. "Heh... You don't say much, but you gots a lot'a gold, and I LIKES alotta gold." He continued with a hint of a chuckle, snorting at timely intervals. "Whats your name anyw-" The sailor paused as he lifted his head, looking left and right in a state of confusion as he searched for his affluent friend, but alas he was long gone.

Omi was gently drifting through the winding streets as the Sailor talked to himself, his hood bowing low over his face as he searched for answers.

What did that vision all those nights ago mean? What was it that he was so destined to seek?

[Vælling]

Of all the many senses the human body entertained, smell was perhaps the most gratifying of them.

Make no mistake-- Arianrhod deeply cherished the virtues of the other four senses, as any traveler accustomed to wandering the breadth of the land inevitably comes to do. But for all the vivid sights and sounds, tastes and sensations she had encountered in her interminable meandering, she savoured perhaps nothing so much as the tranquil scent of pines, redolent of rosemary's characteristic tang, wafting up to her nostrils as she paced along through a coniferous forest, or the distant saltiness of the ocean carried upon the breeze as she neared the coastline, as she often did in her travels. Suffice to say, over the years, she had experienced many fine scents, and the prospect of new scents once alien to come only made her lifestyle all the sweeter.

That being said, she had to confess that she had never lamented her sense of smell quite like she did upon striding into the boundaries of the demure little town of Ischyrr only to be assailed by the rather immodest reek of what Arianrhod, in her own humble opinion, was inclined to believe was too damn much fish.

Nevertheless-- this was the place, was it not? Arianrhod followed no whim and no map but for the general course of the land, roaming along the organic pathways of its contours and crevices unsullied by roadwork and the unsavoury fatalism of an artificial path's intransigence; this was perhaps the very first time in the whole of her fifty one years that any one place in the world had called out to her in a voice that rivaled the beck of the open road. She was not at all accustomed to being drawn to a single location in particular, and she supposed she would have been remiss to discount the possibility that she was misinterpreting this bizarre allure, the mystifying draw of the town of Ischyrr, out of sheer inexperience-- no, she amended wryly, not inexperience. Gut instinct was what it was-- congenital, divorced of the vagaries of the world and one's shifting place in it-- and though she understood this sensation only in the same way a child clumsily feels around an unfamiliar object to understand its shape, she knew it was nothing if not gut instinct.

It was certainly nothing particularly striking; all around her, what she gathered to be the typical mundanities of small-town life were in full swing, and the townsfolk bustled about to and fro, not one of them given even a second's pause by the badly disfigured bear of a woman lackadaisically wandering through their midst. There was an aire about her-- something intrinsically unassuming, for all her stature and her scarring-- that imparted a veritably preternatural habit of melding into the scenery: perhaps she'd grown so acclimated to admiring the background rather than the foreground that she'd taken to blending into it herself as a matter of routine disposition. She rather appreciated that gift of hers: she didn't mind people-- indeed, she rather liked them, personally-- but she also liked being able to pass unimpeded on the rare occasion that her travels took her through towns and villages, and she liked being able to engage people on her own terms, as she did when she spotted a rather slight young woman attired in accoutrements that very immediately distinguished her from the locals. Fellow travelers always know where the local inn happens to be, after all.

... actually, that really wasn't true at all. Arianrhod merely figured one person was as good as any other, local or otherwise, and if it turned out the small woman couldn't point her to an inn-- well then, perhaps they could look together. Company was always nice, after all. Well, company was sometimes nice.

"Excuse me." Arianrhod's voice emerged a languid drawl as she approached, a good-natured sort of smile quirking at the one corner of her lips that was not paralysed into dispassion. "I don't suppose you know where one might find an inn, or happen to be looking for one?"

[Froggy]

As she walked along the streets, Anabeth was slowly but surely taking in anything and everything she could before her. The shops, the people she passed, where the beggars stayed, the pick pocketers... everything she could absorb in order to learn more about her new surroundings, or even find the source of the voice. She doubted that it would be this easy to find the source, but it was best to keep her eyes peeled in the event that she was able to spot so much as a clue.

The sound of an unmistakable drawl caught Anabeth's attention as she was walking along the cobblestone streets, looking for an Apothecary, a Pharmaceutical...anything that would have use for a healer's abilities. She had yet to find any, rather instead a strange assortment of shops...a small café` with only a few chairs inside, a little book store that intrigued her more than her pocket desired, and a clothing store. That was all she had been able to see thus far, but she was hopeful that somebody, somewhere in this city could use a healer.

The voice however was enough to disturb her from her own thoughts, and she turned around with a graceful smile on her face despite her tattered, travel worn attire and appearance. "My apologies, Miss. I have yet to come across an Inn, rather, I was looking for an apothecary or a pharmaceutical. I've just arrived and I thought it best to find employment before lodging," she said, blushing a little as though she had given away too much of herself. She'd seen plenty of beggars wandering the streets, and knew that if it came between a night under a roof or a meal she would choose a meal to sustain her energy.

"I am Anabeth, and it seems as though we are going in the same direction. Would like some company until you find an Inn, or I an apothecary?" she asked the woman curiously, still smiling at her. The road continued on for some distance, and she was certain that by the time they came upon the market they were sure to find either an Inn or a place of potential employment.

[Wattz]

“Good sir, I’ll have a glass of ale, if you please!” Jester smiled down at the barkeep, even when sitting down.

“Hmm…” The barkeep scratched a bit of flaky skin off her chin as she surveyed the tall man in dark armor. He would have appeared more intimidating if it hadn’t been for the goofy smile and bright shock of red hair. Though the barkeep was rarely ever picky about customers, she seemed to accept this newcomer as she continued the conversation. “Ain’t see you before,” she said as she turned to grab the nearest bottle of ale.

“Just passing through. Nice town, this Ischyrr.” Jester noticed that the barkeep took on the distinguished scent of fish, just like the other inhabitants. Pungent, yet refreshing.

“Then what brings you here?” She grabbed a glass, filled it with brackish liquid, and passed it to the stranger.

Jester accepted with a grateful nod. “Oh, just on my way to another town. Nothing much more interesting than that.” Blasé as he tried to make his visit sound, he couldn’t help but smile as he placed the drink to his lips. It was always hard for him to contain his excitement.

“Hmmm…” The look on the barkeep’s face help only mild interest. She left Jester to deal with another customer calling her name.

The ale was average, but Jester appreciated the flavor. He held the drink on his tongue to savor every part of it. After all, this was the taste of the town, the taste of something new, the taste of unknown adventure. As he looked out at the grizzled inhabitants of the bar, Jester knew somewhere in his gut that this was what the dream had called him to. Somehow, this was where he was supposed to be. At last, there was another reason for his travels. There was a reason for his wandering. There was a goal to be discovered somewhere in this town. Jester was determined to give his life purpose once again.

[V]

Maybe her master had been right, that this was just some delusion, some sort of deep whim of hers to get out of training. Perhaps it was becoming too hard, maybe he'd been right, maybe this feeling of being called was nothing more then an escape. That the vision was just another dream.

Those thoughts plagued Morana ever since her departure. A journey over an ocean costing a small allowance, given by her master. Disappointment, doubt and coins, his gifts. And the knowledge that he waited when she failed.

Still, she stepped off the boat to arrive in Ischyrr and it felt so real. The call.

Of course then the overwhelming odour of fish assaulted Morana and she scrounged her face up. She waddled down the dock like that until she saw some beggar glance in her general direction. Meekly, she cowered, lowered her eyes to the planks clanking under her feet. Fish and beggars, and lewd sounding dock workers.

Why did you ever leave, Morana?

She wandered out into town, trying to ignore all around her and fade from her senses. But the seafood stench filled her nose until it was all she could think of. She began to dislike fish.

It came painfully clear to Morana she knew nothing about this town, knew no way of trying to locate whatever it was that was here. She spent her time wandering lost, trying to gain confidence to talk to some person. Or well mutter something toward someone!

Think magically, she told herself. When that failed, she almost began to cry, but was struck by an idea. Perhaps Ischyrr had some sort of Wizard, or a Magician, or some type of magical being.

Courage, Morana.

She approached a stranger on a street corner for some knowledge.

[Kris]

"AND STAY OUT!"

With a thud Ogg Ermin, the "Golden Rod" Tavern had relieved himself of yet another customer. Ogg Ermin was a pretty easy going man which was exactly the reason why everyone stared at the man, now lying on the ground, and wonderd what did he do to upset Ogg Ermin.

"What'cha lookin' et?", the man spited between his broken teeth, "Pis' off!"

He got up, barely, and dust off his clothing.

He was a small man, with fearsome features and round belly.

One would wonder why was he thrown out?

***

"Sir, if I may so ask, what town is it that I am in?"

"Not here, not here!", came a rather fanatic cry from another beggar, one that Dalegr had probably missed when he approached the others.

"Don't stay here, leave this town....", the old man looked up to the sky, his hands gesturing for the young boy to leave.

The other three tried to block him from approaching, "Pay him no mind, he is crazy that old coon"

"Old I am! Fool am not! Leave this town boy, while you still can!"

***

Watching both Anabeth and Arianrhod a girl quickly stepped closer, wearing a bright smile, "Are you two new here? we don't get many visitors", she frowned but her smiled quickly kicked back in, "If you are looking for a place to stay I would advise you to check the tavern. Ogg is pretty decent person and he has some spare rooms. He is the cheapest you can get here... but... Not the cleanest...

"If you are looking for something better, you're rather go down the east road to "Happy Meadow", Irvine, the owner, is rather sweet, but his wife Felicia is the one running the tabs for him, since poor Irvine is very ill... She is a nasty bat... but the place is rather decent if you get the zings for it..."

[Juicesir]

Quivers ran down his spine. "What did he mean, don't stay here?" He was confused, frantic even. The mood had turned from comforting to sour in a sweet beat. Suddenly, this place seemed less inviting than what he first thought.