Old Rose Tango

Kestrel!

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Django Badi
Posts: 9
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2018 7:49 pm
Topics: 4
: One Note Wick
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Wed Jun 20, 2018 7:51 pm



Loshis 22

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familiar wind blew westward. It stank of fish, salt, and spice. Relief warmed Django's bones as Old Rose Harbor crept into view. It wasn't home, but any port in a storm. He patted Weatherly as she ambled onwards, "Urba is close rosh, then yats n caoja for us both."

Near the city Django veered Weatherly off the road. Only tourists entered through Castle Hill, and fools through Barret Park. Django's choice of ingress was none other than Angler's Alley. If any honest folk lived in Old Rose Harbor, it was the fishermen.

Weatherly plodded through the empty streets, nearly devoid of life by dawn. Only the urchins remained after the boats went out. Django maneuvered through the alley to Quarter Fords, where more eyes stared him down but fewer tongues talked. Then at last came the welcoming racket of King's Court. The air buzzed with opportunity as the business day commenced, though Django focused entirely on his next meal.

They beelined for the Jolly Taxpayer, the inn of choice for those with no choice. Its jaunty shingles housed most of the King's Court entertainers, primarily because nicer lodgings cost thrice as much. The tavern was crowded but cozy, a haven where nary a night went by without revelry. Django stabled Weatherly and plunged into the din.

Django bounced three coins, two tallies and a shill, off the hardwood bar. Everyone who lodged here knew this denomination: three pints, two meals, one room. He winked at the witch tending bar, "hesta nanabo, get me some vraun an' I'll play you a gkacha later, oes?"

The witch swiped up his coins, but dismissed Django, "fish soup today." She appraised the dusty Wick, "and not without a shower, kov."

Django scrunched up his empty coin purse, "c'mon olio I don't have the coin for that." He watched as she disappeared into the kitchen.

She returned momentarily with soup and a retort, "Yeah plenty other spokes that do though."

"Suit yourself, I need to find some qalqa." Django scoffed at her dismissal, though it chafed at his pride anyway.

"You know that's not my job."

Django guffawed as the witch slid the soup in front of him, "anyone in this stinking urbo work for themselves anymore? Enterprise and all that."

"Look kov, I'm busy."

Django let it go, "guess I go pay my respects eh." He dipped his spoon into the salty broth and sighed. The witch nodded with a touch of sympathy, but quickly returned to the grind of patrons and their jingling purses.

A full belly later Django took to the streets, though the other buskers had long since taken the best spots. No matter, opportunities abounded not ten blocks from here. Django made his way to mock king Hawke's palace.

The streets grew calmer and the air still as Django neared the infamous den. This place was unmistakably owned, and not at all welcoming. Those who dwelled here watched every step forward, and every breath taken, with keen intent. From Django's experience, a Big Brother usually accosted him right about…



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Kestrel
Posts: 24
Joined: Thu May 03, 2018 10:09 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Wick
: smoke and wings
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Sat Jun 23, 2018 11:16 am

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Loshis 22
Even on a day of so called relaxation, Kestrel didn't stray far from the King's Palace. Her favorite haunts tended to be the street corners, where men and women brought up chairs and foldable tables and laid out their cards on a breezy, warm day. She wasn't one for the indoors after what seemed like a lifetime spent in the inner quarters of the Mad Queen. But she didn't usually partake in the cards herself, only observed from the rooftops or in the shadows, where she could enjoy the insults and colorful vocabulary that the players usually hurled across the table.

After an entire 10 days of revelry from St. Grumble, she was sick of taverns and bars, and the thought of alcohol made her want to hurl.

"Pick it up Danny, you gon' let him just swindle you out of your ging like that?" The blond haired wick snapped as he adjusted the cigar on his tongue. He took a good long swig and exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nostrils.

"I ent swindlin' no one," the one called Danny answered with an incredulous look, his cropped hair a shade of dirt brown. "I'm as balach as they come, eh?"

There was a roar of laughter from the other three men and the couple of people watching the game, not including Kestrel.

"You? A balach? You're a toft, kov. I bet you're hidin' a few cards up that sleeve of yours, eh?" The man named Arnold answered as he peered at Danny with his one good eye, the iris a shade of warm blue. "Let's see it, Danny. Hold out your sleeves."

"Fuck ne, kov, I ent doing shit," he protested, holding his cards face down. "Play the game, I ent swindlin."

Another player, with his coarse hair tied back in a knot and his skin the color of milk chocolate grabbed Danny's sleeved arm and sliced the fabric open with a swift flick of his knife. A handful of cards fell to the floor. All eyes were on Danny, then bursts of laughter erupted from the crowd.

Arnold though, wasn't laughing. "Wat'd I tell ya, men, vodundun. This old laoso thinks us Bad Brothers stupid." He was making to stand, only for Kestrel's voice to rise above the clamor of chairs moving.

"Oh please, Arnold. Are you a tsuter now? You going to cott him for a couple of coins?" There was a smirk on her lips. "Get, ye chen? Or you're going to meet the fishes under the harbor very soon." Danny had sprung from his chair and said nothing else when he sprinted down the road, disappearing into the crowd.

"I was trying to have a bit of fun, Kestrel," Arnold grumbled as he sat back down. "Needed to flex my knuckles, ye chen?"

"Yeah yeah," She shook her head in amusement and turned her gaze toward the street, just as a man approached the King's Palace that she didn't recognize, and she recognize almost everyone who tried to haunt Hawke's estate. Slipping away from the playing men, she laid a hand on the dark haired man's chest, sizing him up, which is rich, coming from someone who barely stood above 5'3".

"Your name, kov?" She jerked her chin up, yellow eyes searching his face for any familiarity, but there was none. "You new and daft around here?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "That's the King's Palace, and I don't believe he called for...." Her eyes fell down his form, noting the instrument, his travel worn attire. "A mummer." Her lips rose in a guarded smile.
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Last edited by Kestrel on Sun Jul 01, 2018 6:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Django Badi
Posts: 9
Joined: Tue Jun 19, 2018 7:49 pm
Topics: 4
: One Note Wick
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Post Templates: [url=http:/fullurl/]Post Templates[/url]

Sun Jul 01, 2018 3:41 pm



Time Stamp

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flash of surprise danced across Django's face as the slight woman stopped him. He'd expected a Bad Brother, but not thiskind of Bad Brother. Though his lascivious grin told her she wasn't unwelcome at all.

Django drank her in. The taut muscles of her outstretched arm, her dusky skin and hair, the almond bore of her gaze. But also the pistol at her hip. For an instant Django's confidence faltered, though he quickly regained his composure. He just needed the gun to point at someone other than him.

His words were spun honey, "Epaemo, epaemo. I just rolled in, lookin' for qalqa. Need a bit of coin. Didn't know mant Hawke wasn't looking for some Spoke." Django gently pushed her hand aside, weaving his fingers with hers as he leaned in. "But maybe you are oes? Call me Django, nanabo. So how about a song and dance eh?"


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