[Open] Smoke and Soot

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
Topics: 42
Race: Human
Occupation: Metalsmith | Resistance Gunsmith
: Artful Gunner
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Wed Jul 25, 2018 9:39 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
There was a particular scent that came with this particular brand of tobacco that Gale always found most pleasant. An almost sweetness that came with it, not the acidic sort that often came with various smoking drugs, but a softer, less intrusive one with a hint of some spice behind it. It mingled well with the strong scent of soot and ash, of iron filings and sweat. Hair slicked back and dark with ash and soot – she could not remember the last time she washed, which was probably for the best. She inhaled the scent of the tobacco smoke. It filled her nostrils with just enough to forget the scent of the Soot District – and herself - for a few seconds, before reality took over once more.

Her shoulder checked another as she passed; a mere grunt of annoyance was given by the injured party before they skulked on with the crowd. Her reaction was much the same.

Gale was never much of a smoker, but there were occasions in which she dabbled. It gave a distinct memory of her father as she was growing up, of a man with his long tobacco pipe gently blowing rings from it. There was no pipe or ring now however, merely the quickly dying cigarette and thin wisps escaping from its glowing end. She inhaled, held it in her mouth, and then gave a spluttering cough.

Gale was never much of a smoker. Dropping the ragged end, she snubbed it out with her boot before continuing on.

The worn tin toolbox was slung across her, rope strap digging into her shoulder while the weighty innards clattered loudly. She nudged her way past a slower pedestrian, muttering under her breath about holding up the street. Her left hand gave a few taps to the base of the toolbox, dirty nails smudging the already tarnished surface.
It was the process of mentally steeling herself to deal with them; to play the game of being civil while gathering the resources for her trade. Steel mills, iron refineries and the smelting industry were the group she was appealing to today – though she imagined the usual transaction and discussion would occur.

”We could always do with another in the mills. Someone who knows what they are doing. What say you boy? Are you sure? Surely it would make your father proud to be part of something so grand! Final answer?”

She frowned. It was all false, merely attempts to bring another pawn under their control; reality was that the Galdori did not care and would say anything to their enslaved citizens to get what they wanted.

Another shoulder hit her this time, enough to strike across the torso and make her brace. The rest of her twisted, rope jerking around her form and growing taut. She snarled, ”OI! Watch where you’re walking!”

She saw the meaty hand attached to the larger form. Beady eyes stared at her, before it firmly yanked at it again. Her own hands snatched at it then, pulling firmly back. He was definitely bigger than her, the heavy breathing escaping as the altercation continued, ”Just give it to me boy.”
The rest of his form was twisted out of sight, his right arm disappearing behind his massive frame. She dug her heels in, arm grasping around his wrist as he pulled, ”Get the fuck off.”
“Give it.”


She internally groaned.

Gritting her teeth, her shoulders squared up to his as she tried to pry the hand away. Around them the crowd continued on, heads down as they trudged through the smog filled air. It seemed the entire altercation was invisible to their eyes, ”Make me.”
“I’ll cut you. Now give it.”
Last edited by Gale on Tue Nov 13, 2018 10:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance

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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
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Tue Jul 31, 2018 9:22 am

18th of Roalis, 2718
The Soot District | Midday
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The blond Sergeant had carefully cultivated a handful of relationships with informants over the past two years. While the weaker, less intimidating nature of his field had often cost him more than a bit of his pride in Brunnhold and in the Seventen, it proved to be much more of a useful problem to have when out on the streets. Especially when not in uniform. When dressed to meet with certain informants, it didn't take much for the young Valentin to blend into the crowd, save for his height kept him above his galdori peers and his cleanliness often gave him away to the lower races in places like the Soot District.

"—and they'll be moving through on the 42nd 'f Roalis." The younger, scrawnier man added as the pair sat on some dirty steps in front of one of the run-down tenement buildings. The boy took a long drag on his hand-rolled cigarette and offered it to Rhys as one would offer a drink to a friend, exhaling slowly, "They've been talkin' about it for weeks now—since early Hamis."

"And it's only Drake's Tongue this time—nothing else?" The blond Seventen looked like just another resident, sprawled comfortably on the stairs, elbows against the hot brick, and accepted the cigarette like a peace offering. It wasn't Hessean tobacco, but something else. Rhys didn't have time to be a connoisseur,

"Oes, 's far as I know, anyways." The shaggy-haired wick rolled his shoulders, watching a few residents wander by with well-practiced disinterest. Their conversation was quiet and casual enough.

Above them in the tenement housing, an infant woke up and fussed loudly. Down the alley, a couple of dogs barked and chased each other over the dirty cobblestones.

"Good enough. I'm going to guess you don't have a ship name or where on the docks they'll be."

"I don't, ne. There's only so much I can listen to while workin', sir." The younger man smirked before he rolled his shoulders and moved to stand, "I'll be missed in a few. You got other kov you can ask, ye chen."

"I do. It's true." The Sergeant sighed, lingering so their conversation didn't appear so staged, flicking the spent end of the cigarette to the ground to crush it with the toe of his boot, "I'll make sure to get the writs for your family renewed. Keep listening and try and let me know if anything changes."

"Boemo." The wick didn't wave or nod, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and wandering one way down the alley.

The tall blond waited a few extra moments, though no one else passed. The babe had been soothed and the dogs had disappeared into the sooty haze of the main street. Standing and stretching, already sweating in the Roalis heat that seemed trapped so tightly by the smog and filth of the Soot District, the Arova's breezes choked out by all the residue of industry, that he longed to be on his way and back to Uptown.

Making his way through the alley, he heard the escalation of voices and saw a few of the pedestrians on the road ahead begin to move to the other side of the cobblestones. Turning the corner and into the busy thoroughfare, the young Valentin was already gathering his field, reaching for a baton that wasn't there, instantly reminded he wasn't in uniform and didn't at all appear to have his usual authority. Plain clothes. Informants. Not a good day for the sight his sharp blue eyes took in—a larger man wrestling a smaller boy either to rob him or to take him back to some factory.

Gods, he'd just have to do his job and pass it off as a good deed.

"That's enough, there." Rhys couldn't help but raise his voice, catching a few amused, annoyed glances from the pedestrians who simply shifted their path to avoid the conflict and now to avoid his tall, approaching self. The street felt filthier than the alley and the dirty air stung his eyes, but his long strides brought him closer quickly, and the out-of-uniform Seventen reached to put himself between the larger man and his smaller prey, field taut like an invisible barrier of dangerous potential.

The human was taller than the blond galdor, who was, admittedly, already tall for his race. Broad shouldered and clearly used to physical work, the young Valentin would have appeared to be little help, and of course that was just the way Rhys liked his melee—underestimated,

"Hey, I said that's enough. There's a patrol due through here in twenty minutes and I'm happy to hold you both down until it comes." The blond sneered, shifting his footing and preparing for more of a fight, fingers curling into the bicep the bigger man gripping the boy who was gripping him back. Blue eyes flicked to the younger face, "Unless you're the one stealing? Then, maybe I'll just let you two work this out yourselves."

"Fuck you. This isn't any of your business." The other man snarled, free hand moving toward the knife at his belt despite the weight of the field that threatened them both.

"Oh, it is now." Rhys wasn't in a position to cast, but he hadn't missed the motion—he wasn't a Sergeant in the Investigative Division for being unobservant, "I wouldn't go for that if I were you."

"Nah? I'll see 'bout that." Grunted the lugger, hesitating for but a moment before he had the sharp object in his calloused, meaty hand. Releasing the other human both men had assumed was a boy, he drew the knife threateningly, "Both of you hand over your coins and maybe I won't leave both your scrawny erses bleeding on the street."

A few passersby had paused, staring, unwilling to step in. Someone may have catcalled from a window high above them across the street. To everyone else, the brute was certainly large enough to take them both. As far as the Seventen was concerned, the boy would probably run off and leave him to fend for himself. Even if he didn't, he was confident he could have the man ready for arrest and a nice chroven ride back to the jail in less than twenty minutes.

The tall blond was unphased, though he did wish he was armed and in uniform one more time before he raised his hands in a combat-ready defensive position, "I'll ask nicely one more time—put the knife down, sir."
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Gale
Posts: 254
Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
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: Artful Gunner
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Thu Aug 02, 2018 9:29 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
The world continued on around them. Isolating in their wide berths. No one wanted to know, no one wanted to get involved. She was certain that even she was to call out for help; there would be little more than nervous glances and quicker steps. People had a tendency to not like trouble after all. She could not blame their want for a quiet life than to die prematurely in some forgotten gutter.

For the love of-

Gale tugged furiously at the strap, but the grip did not relinquish. She pulled again, her nails gripping onto his skin, attempting to press upon his tendons. A grunt, the hidden hand had yet to return into view. Perhaps it was a bluff? Something to throw her off balance and push her into a quick surrender? If she buckled at every slight against her she would be dead in a gutter somewhere. She knuckles tightened around the strap, reeling her in closer as the Bully snarled, ”Give it.”
“Blow me.”


She could kick him in the shins, perhaps even flail wildly at his jawline. It could catch him by surprise; force him to release his grip enough to be free of him. She was certain she could outrun him. Could squeeze through a small gap and disappear between the bodies of the street. Her mind flickered to and fro, a rapid collection of possibilities and thoughts.

Step to his left. Twist the form; stop pulling use momentum to pull him down. Let the hammer do the work. Then bare fangs.

The Metalsmith rocked back onto her heels. Shoulder dropping, she jerked to her right. Her body pulled, her hand releasing him as she tried to move around. Writhing, she felt herself being abruptly stopped. Rope taut once more, it pulled against her chest as he began to lift his hold on it higher. It rubbed against her neck.

Irritating.

She seethed, her fingers prying at his, eyes glaring up and lip twitching in annoyance. She swatted at him, ”Get off me-“

A blond stranger forced himself in, a weedy form that grasped onto the bully in response. She responded to his look, meeting his blue with sea- green. He gave a warning, she had heard that much. But most importantly, he felt weird. A strangeness that put her hairs on end. Yet here he was, standing between her and a knife. The grip of the Bully was released as the warned of blade came into vision. A dirty, rusting piece – but something never the less.

Gale would not have called him a saviour.

Gale would have called him an idiot. An idiot who was far too clean for the Soot District. And that frightened her.

She took her moment of release to step away, bringing the toolbox close protectively to his chest. Even now with the few pausing members of the crowd she knew she could have made an easy escape. An encouraging idea if a patrol really was coming around soon. Still he made his threats despite the turning of the situation. Her eyes narrowed, watching the back of this stranger square up against the brute.

”Are you sure you want to do that?” She had to ask, just to make sure.

How many times has he warned him now? Twice? Thrice? Her lip twitched. No one she knew every warned someone to back off twice. It was normally a single followed by a firm punching out of lights. Grasping both ends of the toolbox in her hands, she moved to the side, another glance to the moving crowd around her. She gave a snort, ”Piss off.”

One of the giant bear arms came swiping around, a broad arc that made her instinctively pull away further. The knife had turned in his grip, forming into a hammer where the blade came down from the bottom. It was no longer a tool to threaten, but to use. A kill grip as her father would say. He brought it around, following up the arc with a hack. He towered over, the free hand going in for a grab. Reel the target in, restrict the movement and push into submission. The hand shooting towards her forced movement. She jolted back, eyes turning to the flow once more.

The crowd was still moving around them, quicker now to avoid the fight. With it, Gale dipped into it. Head down, she wriggled her way between the bodies, complaints as she escaped the immediate onslaught. Break the line of sight and let the idiot have some fun.

”You come fucking right back here boy!”
"Come get me you fucking lug!"


Hunching in, she saw the thug go for the idiot now, head whipping back and forth to not loose sight of his prey. It did not stop him however, from madly slashing and throwing his weight at the current offender. His attention was torn. She felt the weight of the toolbox in her hands. A clunk of innards as she familiarized herself with the various tools within. If the box or its contents broke it would be considered a shame; though she was fairly certain she could fix it.

She pushed past another pedestrian, reaching the back of the brute. Her grasp tightened, elbows pushing the others to the side for a clear run back into the fray. It did not have to be a good or clean hit, just a solid one.

The opening came.

Barging through the gap, she raised the toolbox above her head. Muscles strained, she dashed across to the back of the brute. She leapt at him, momentum following as she swung the metal container against his shoulders.

Hammer to anvil!
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
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Wed Aug 08, 2018 3:50 pm

18th of Roalis, 2718
The Soot District | Midday
Image
He'd let his Sergeant's tone slip into his voice, unable to entirely separate his professional life from his personal one in a situation that had been dangerous from the moment he stepped into it. The large brute brandished his knife—a rusty, ugly thing that was probably just sharp enough to cut and dull enough to hurt—and then the boy had the clocking nerve to question his sincerity after he'd gone and bothered to jump in,

"I know what I'm doing, thank you." Rhys hissed in response, blue eyes locked on the Bully while the rest of his senses began to take in his surroundings, not realizing at first he was speaking to no one. The human had shouldered his way into the crowd.

The larger man noticed what the Seventen did not, and he shouted after the other blond, making sure his tall, lanky opponent knew he was now alone.

Damn it all.

The Bully swung for him with wide, brutish, untrained swings. His use of the knife was not one of skill so much as frequent, comfortable use. The blond Sergeant moved with the grace of well-practiced discipline, dodging the slower, sloppier swings and keeping his field taut and firm around him in case he decided he should cast. Out of uniform but still on duty, there were a few moments of evasion where Rhys had to weigh his options—could he retaliate? Was he in his rights to use physical force? Should he simply keep the man occupied, lunging and dodging, until the patrol went by?

The bulky ersehat twisted and swung with the knife again and this time it was far too close for the comfort of the Seventen, and so he made his decision. Yes, he could use force. No, he wasn't about to wait—

There was a ripple in the crowd while he moved with obviously educated skill in opposition to the brutish human who was now bent on cutting him in his anger that the boy got away. It was just as Rhys was stepping in after another swing, one arm reaching for the man's wrist while the other was about to put an elbow into the taller, broader-shouldered man's throat when the other blond leapt from somewhere in the crowd, behind the Bully, and smashed their toolbox between his shoulder blades.

This began a chain reaction of things: the Bully grunted and staggered forward into Rhys's opposite but equally forward motion, jamming the Seventen's elbow into his sternum instead of his windpipe as intended and causing the tall blond to miss his reach for the man's wrist. The human growled, gripping the too-clean clothes of his closest opponent and pulling him close, turning quickly to swing his knife backhandedly at the boy he knew was attacking him,

"Fuckin' piece o'—"
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Gale
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Joined: Thu Jul 19, 2018 6:07 am
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: Artful Gunner
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Thu Aug 09, 2018 6:13 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
A clatter of tools rattled within as Gale descended upon the Bully. After the toolbox the rest of her followed, crunching into the brawny form. She felt him stagger, the rest of her effectively bouncing off him as he managed to recover and brace. Landing back on her feet, she wobbled as she attempted to right herself. Arms went wide, the additional weight of the toolbox knocking her off balance. An alarming notion when the exposed blade came swinging back at her.

“-shit!” he bellowed.

Unlike the Idiot who moved with much more comparable grace, Gale was not so well versed. She released one of the sides of the toolbox as the knife came round, full form bent on getting out the way. The arm swung using momentum once more, though this time to drag herself out of the way. She did, for the most part. Landing upon her backside, the toolbox landed beside her. Her form gave a shake, air filling her lungs, the strap hanging slack around her. Barely a blink and she saw the firm grip of the other in his grasp. The Bully pivoted best he could, beady eyes focusing on her as he gave a gesture. The two still seemed to be struggling, but that was the least of her immediate worries.

“Oh you, prick,” Gale hissed.

The fabric of her sleeve had been ripped open, fraying while her right arm gave a complaint; she chose to not look any closer. A cold chill sunk itself in briefly, a niggling press in the back of her mind. The option to run away was still open to her. The large bear arms swung at her again, forcing the body into action. Scrabbling to her feet, she tried to put distance between her and him. The watching crowd did not allow it however, and a firm shove sent her back into range. The brain was flickering now, attempting to connect together an option. Another swing, she brought the toolbox between her and him to block it. The lid bent, but she did not care about that. That could be fixed.

Withdrawing she batted the offending hand away with the side with the box. The rest of her followed releasing it and being jerked to the side by the weight. She ducked under the swinging arm this time, wary of it as it coiled back. It hacked down as she pushed herself into the inside of his range. Her free arms wrapped around his, hands clinging to his armed wrist as she struggled. Feet braced, pure focus going into keeping the bladed arm disabled for now.

“Get off you-” He grunted, trying to jerk the blade away. Gale followed wrapping in closer while her fingers dared to begin prying at his. She tried not to pay too much attention to the thin streams of blood that began to trace its way down. He hunched over her, barking in her ear, “I am going to gut you boy. And when I've done that. I'm gonna hav' you. All over the-.”

Gale head-butted him. Crown met nose, a crunch of noise followed by a snarl. She gritted her teeth, “Don’t you ever shut the fuck up?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
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Fri Aug 10, 2018 3:41 pm

18th of Roalis, 2718
The Soot District | Midday
Dice Rolling
Muse rolled 3d6 and got:
3, 5, 6


3: Rhys' Depth Perception spell is only a minor success. Both Gale and the Bully are effected, feeling suddenly off-balance, dizzy, and spun around. The movement of their bodies won't match what their minds want, but it can be overcome by some concentration.
5: Rhys more than successfully intervenes his body into the melee while the pair are recovering from the head butt. He is now monkey in the middle.
6: Rhys critically disarms the fucker, breaking his arm at the elbow with the force of his motion.
Image
Whatever the other blond had done to piss off this larger human, he'd done it in chimes and bells. For a few rapid heartbeats, Rhys felt invisible as the angry ersehat focused almost entirely on his original opponent, and as much as he wanted to interject himself into the combat, he felt frustrated to find an opening. Their back and forth was very tight, and the larger human waved his blade around dangerously. He chose to take the short moment of being ignored to gather his field, to bring the Perceptive mona around him into a sharp focus and let the familiar words in Monite fall off his lips just seconds before the other man scored the first blood.

The spell would hit them unexpectedly, spoken as it was with practiced ease and disciplined comfort. Just as the pair were still seeing stars from their heads colliding, the mona would invade their senses like someone had spun them both around, causing their ears to ring, their stomachs to lurch, and everything to feel as though Vita had shifted a full one hundred and eighty degrees on its axis. The Bully shouted in pain and surprise, loosening his grip as his head snapped back, beginning to stagger but still held fast by Gale's grip.

The blond Seventen didn't miss a beat and didn't miss his chance even as a wave of nausea filled him from the runoff of his spell, stepping boldly forward into the middle of the fighting humans, his field sigiled and heavy with the lingering mona of his spell. With well-trained ease, the plainly clothed officer reached for the other man's armed hand and wrenching roughly. Disoriented, the brute's hand slipped free, and Rhys twisted his hips at the same time, separating the two and leaving the blond boy to waver on his feet,

"I clocking said enough already." Growled the Sergeant, following through with his movement, twisting the human's arm harshly and shoving his body in the opposite direction in a disarming motion. His combat maneuver was unintentionally more forceful than usual and there was the whine of tendons and the crunch of bone and the Bully howled in pain. Rhys' follow-up move would be to sweep the larger man's legs from behind the knees and bring him to the ground, hand reaching for where his cuffs would have been ...

... had he been in uniform.

"Clock the Circle." The tall blond growled, now stuck awkwardly overing over the larger, kneeling man who was beginning to fill with a pained sort of rage, still gripping his arm at an impossible angle behind his back,

"As an officer of the Seventen, you're under arrest—"
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Gale
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: Artful Gunner
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Mon Aug 13, 2018 8:28 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
The sensation bared its fangs and dug deep into her. As she withdrew she felt the dull pain of the fight sink in, but quickly something else took its place. Her feet came out from beneath her, the Bully moaned something. She did not know what, nor did she care. The pulsing ring filled her ears, drowning out to nothing as the other stepped in.

Gale blinked.

And then was on her back.

The Metalsmith was not exactly sure on how she ended up on her back. But she did anyway. Prone on the dirty street, she lifted her shoulders as some element of sensation began to return. The strap of the toolbox was across her, though the latch had managed to open in the fall. Some of the tools had begun to creep out, her hand pawing at them as she tried to get some sense together. Another blink, she shook her head through the muffled scream of the Bully. Her head gave a complaining throb, swimming as she tried to pull herself up further.

What is going on? What is the situation? I… think I’m… no. Don’t be sick. Don’t you dare.

She gave a small gag, swallowed and rubbed at her face. It was then she remembered she was bleeding, the red being streaked in with the soot and ash. She smudged it away, groaning as the words fell into some better semblance of order, the other hand clapping over the injury. She hissed, trying to bring herself to move. The rest of her felt stiff; she hit the ground hard judging by the complaint her back was currently making. Her gaze looked to the crowd, dragging herself away as the Bully was put into submission.

Her prior fear was only confirmed when the all too clean man made his announcement. She saw the nervous looks of others, the gawkers and the gazers releasing their gasps. Some moved to disperse quickly, others cheered while a few jeered. But it was the few quiet ones that watched with interest. She caught the face of one, their eyes briefly meeting, holding, before he gave little more than a dip of the head and slipped away. She was not alone. They were watching.

The metalsmith did not get to her feet, but seeing the dropped blade she kicked it away from them both. The rusted surface skidded a few feet across the road before coming to a stop. Somewhere else she was certain she heard the high pitched whistle. Some other shouts mingled in with the voices. She pulled herself up to her knees, a deep inhale; she turned herself to gathering up the tools and resealing the box. To get ready to move; for something, anything.

Could she run away in a state like this? Probably not. Whatever he did, this Galdori, this Uncle as he appeared to be had thrown a spanner in her potential for escape. She should have runaway when she had the chance; she could be down some back alleyway and off to her client. Not sitting on the floor berating her lack of foresight. No, her best bet now was to play nice and hope for the best. It would allow her some time to regain her senses at least.

The Bully screamed louder now, she was certain she heard something crack that should not have. She swallowed, “Shit.”

Fear was an understatement. Adrenal peaked and buoyed in her head, her breathing quick as she forced some element of self-control. Carefully she placed her hands behind her head, hunching down to the current authority and focusing her gaze on their feet. Brow creasing deeply, she tried not to think about the sticking sensation on the back of her scalp or the depth of the injury. Instead she stopped and listened, waiting for the next cue to be made and to react accordingly.

You idiot.
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
Posts: 262
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Race: Wick
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Tue Aug 28, 2018 4:05 pm

18th of Roalis, 2718
The Soot District | Midday
Image
The Bully howled his pain and struggled in protest, still resisting the Sergeant of the Seventen who had a grip on his broken arm. He couldn't help it, the situation having gotten the best of his well-trained self, the rush of excitement in combat and the empowerment of his own sorcerous gifts having led him to cause the level of harm he usually attempted to avoid,

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to—"

"Fuck you!" The large human groaned, unable to resist as Rhys bound his hands behind his back with a carefulness that no one on the street would have even bothered to remember should someone notice. In fact, he gathered his field again, the rush of mona from their surroundings tangible like the sweep of the tide at one's ankles on the beach, and Monite left his dry lips as his dirty fingers traced over the elbow he'd snapped with strength he often forgot he had, the human growling in pain again as bones knit and tendons reached for each other. Rhys didn't bother weaving in an anesthetic spell to his words, rushed and aware of the limitations of the skill.

He wavered on his feet at the sheer will he gave to the ungrateful bastard that would have left him bleeding on the street to die with his insides baking in the Roalis sun,

"You're under arrest for attempted robbery, assault on a citizen of the Kingdom, and assault on an officer of the Seventen. I suggest you shut your head and sit tight. A patrol will be here shortly, ersehole." Rhys breathed raggedly, letting the man deal with his fate, bound as he was on his knees, and turning toward the blond boy—

Girl. Woman.

The blonde.

"You're not under arrest, ma'am. Self-defense isn't a crime." Pausing to wipe his forehead with his palm, raking his fingers upward to toss hair from his face, his blue eyes looked over the girl as if assessing her for further injury. Sure, he had another spell in him. Maybe. At least he could staunch the bleeding, but then he'd probably be spent. His pulse rang in his ears and adrenaline would soon cause him to tremble as it drained from his veins, so he held his cleaner hand out to the stranger, indicating the blonde's bloodied wrist,

"Allow me to assess that, please. Do you want to press further charges against the assailant yourself or are you leaving that to me?"

He'd gently take her injured arm if she'd let him, and she'd feel him gathering his field again. He was not in the state of mind to dwell on how her features seemed vaguely familiar, how the sense of deja vu writhed silently in the back of his mind, filled as it was with his current sense of duty and authority. Had the girl spent any time around galdori or wicks at all, she'd note the meagerness of the tall officer's in comparison to most of his authoritative kind. He clearly didn't consider that a problem,

"If you'd like to press charges against myself, you're welcome to do that as well." The blond Seventen added with a roguish sort of grin, chagrined perhaps that his own entrance into their affair had perhaps led to her injury. However, he had two living problems instead of two dead ones, and so Rhys considered himself at least marginally successful in his job.

With that, he'd begin to cast again, this time weaving in both a request for antiseptic and anesthetic qualities to his staunching of her bleeding. He didn't have it in him to close her wound so much as scab it over, too untrained in Living conversation and too exhausted physically to be able to knit more flesh together. It was obvious at the end of his casting, as his hands began to shake, fingers trembling where he held her, and a metallic taste filled both their mouths as if they'd swallowed too much blood. Gale would feel a tingling where her injury was that spread from elbow to finger tips, a numbness that lingered as runoff from his magic more than it needed to.

Rhys sighed and sat back on his heels, waiting for her response and realizing that if anything erupted around him, he'd be in deep shit now that his field was frazzled and his body tired,

"Special Enforcement Sergeant Rhys Valentin is my name. For your reference."

The patrol couldn't arrive fast enough.
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Gale
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: Artful Gunner
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Wed Aug 29, 2018 9:28 am

the soot district | midday
18 ROALIS 2718
It was with such intensity that Gale stared upon the feet of the Seventen. She refused to look up, jaw pressing into a clench, hands staying where they were. Even as the Bully was taken care of she did not move. But the ears were ever twitching, picking through the sounds while the hairs at the back of her neck rose. Skin pimpled, she forced a deep inhale and held it there; resisting the notion of allowing her body to panic. There was nothing to hide, nothing to be afraid of. It was all routine and she happened to be a victim of an assault. She did not want to be any trouble.

Still, it did not stop her from flinching when he addressed her. And correctly too - part of her squirmed at that.

Her gaze turned upwards, looking at him from behind a messy fringe and then down to where he was gesturing. He seemed to have made up his mind regardless of her opinion, and so let him do his work. Bare hands were the first thing she noticed, smoother and well-kept in comparison to her own. Her head turned away when the numbed feeling set in, gaze briefly snatching up the rest of him in her mind. He was taller than her, a few inches at most. Still relatively lanky, very well kept – and a man she would be best to be quiet around. The grip was also something that raised discomfort; despite the gradual loosening of his it was still there. Possessive and owning. With that stupid smug grin on his face.

Idiot.

She was not his property.

Yet despite it all, it was the name that made her flinch. The muscles contracted, tightening and tensing. The held wrist snatched back. Her other hand clamped over the scab left behind, shoulders hunching in slightly. Her eyes however wandered back, flickering across his shoulders, up the various contours in his neck to the pointed chin. Her study stopped at the cheekbones, unable to push themselves any further and feed the heavy weight that was crawling down her throat and into her chest.

Beware the Valentin. Beware the blond Galdori.
Well. This now a thing.
Bugger.


“Sergeant Valentine?” There was an emphasis on the final ‘e’, an almost testing push on confirmation. Had she heard it correctly? Forcing herself into a stand she took hold of her toolbox firmly. Hugging it protectively across her chest, she returned her gaze to her shoes. The question, she had to answer it. She shook her head dumbly, withdrawing her gaze, “I… No. I have no charges to press.” She flexed the fingers of her numbed hand. Her throat constricted briefly, the next few words escaping in a begrudged hiss, “Thank you for the uh… Intervention?”

Gale’s blood boiled on the inside, smothering the lingering sense of fear fuelled adrenal with something else. She bit her tongue, swallowing the bile of disgust that rested in her throat. Typical. All of it. Her gaze shifted over to the Bully, watching the man rest his head on the stone floor as he pulled against the restraints. Despite the odds being against him, he persisted. Yet the Seventen was now looking worse for wear, was it the strain of using the mona? The thing that supposedly made them better than all the others? Some power it was if it left you in such a state – if not a risk that turned them lazy and halted progression.

Her gaze shifted to the crowd that watched; she would have preferred to have gotten out of the situation as soon as possible. Her palms itched to move on to her client, hopefully regaining their favour with an explanation as to why she was late. She cleared her throat, “Did you require anything from me, sir?”

If you ever face an officer, make sure to be compliant. Overly helpful even. It puts them off at the best of times.

There was the whistle again, her chin lifting to look past the crowd and the casual observers. Was it a patrol coming? Did she really want to hang around to find out? She merely needed to be around long enough to be convenient, not to out stay her use or welcome. Taking out a cigarette she distracted her hands by lightning it. She let it hang limply in her lips, the end glowing as it smoldered. But she wanted to know something, she needed to feel out the situation – a curiosity that she knew would only starve her.

“No statement or anything?”

Keep it together Artful. No slipping up now.

Inhaling, she offered the battered cigarette case down to him, “Smoke?”
When the last of us will disappear
Like shadows into the night
The broken ones, the fighting sons
Of ignorance
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Rhys Valentin
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Sat Sep 08, 2018 10:40 pm

18th of Roalis, 2718
The Soot District | Midday
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"It's Valentin. Sergeant Rhys Valentin." The tall blond repeated twice the pronunciation of his last name just to make sure that the young woman understood. Was he chagrined that he'd mistaken her for a man? Not, really. In some ways she reminded him of one of his newer squad members, Ensign Ward, with her choice to wear the uniform issued to men and keep her hair cut far more masculine than was fashionable. Did it matter? She was a fine addition to his team, exemplary. The climb was steeper for women in uniform, and yet Rhys had to admit he had no idea what social expectations were for a human, let alone a human woman. He was hardly aware of what the problem was for galdori women at this point, especially considering the Magisters had finally gotten their heads out of their erses long enough to elect a woman Headmistress.

What did he know anyway? Other than the rank he’d bled and sweat and worked for in the Seventen, under the uniform, Rhys Valentin was just a nobody farm boy of a galdor with a laughable magic potential and a big mouth. Oh well. Social commentary was not his wheelhouse, that was for clocking sure. Not anymore. His job had made everything far less clear than he’d thought it would as a fresh graduate, as promised in training in Numbrey. Days like today would just leave him feeling like he’d been dragged through more mud and mist, not less,

"No clocking charges? The ersehole was clearly attacking you when I arrived on the scene. You’re not going to call him out on that? Is he a friend of yours? I get that this is a normal scene—I’m here in the District enough to see what goes on here—but do you want pieces of shit like that assaulting other folks like you because he knows he can get away with it? Unbelievable. It’s fine—I'll charge him myself for assaulting an officer of the Seventen instead."

"Wouldn't been any harm done if you—" The Bully began, interrupted by an authoritative hiss of displeasure.

"—Quiet you."

Rhys heard the whistle, but made no facial expression that gave away his having heard it. Attempting to judge its general direction in the crowd over his shoulder, he seemed to shift his footing only slightly, presenting what could only be called a less vulnerable position should anyone decide to pull a gun and shoot the Seventen in plain clothes before the patrol arrived to clean up his clocking mess. He’d been in the Investigative Division for longer than a day and knew exactly what kind of trouble he’d opened himself up to between gangs and the Resistance here in the Soot District.

"Require something? Ah. Yes. I need your full name, current residence, and place of employment for my report."

The Sergeant blinked and looked chagrined as if he should have been gathering this information already, glancing briefly at the scowling, sweating Bully and sweeping the lingering crowd with an authoritative look of dismissal. No one moved. Wiping dirty, bloodied hands on his dull brown coat before reaching into the inside pocket and removing a notebook with a pencil, he brought his sharp, blue-eyed gaze back into focus on the young woman before him as if waiting for her response.

He ignored that his hands were unsteady, that he'd cast far more than was necessary. He ignored the expectant stares, "While I don’t expect there to be an issue, it’s for the Records. You can be on your way once I have your details since you don't want to—" His eyes flicked to her offering between them and he shrugged, the hint of a hesitant smile creasing into his face, pausing his official business to more or less do the same as herself except with much less well-practiced flair, notebook and pencil tucked in the crook of his elbow for a moment while long fingers lit a match and then a cigarette as if it was a peace offering when the Sergeant was unaware one was even necessary.

Handing back the case, he dug in his coat again with a long drag, fishing out his pocket watch and squinting down the street expectantly with his exhale. Shoving the watch away with a frustrated hiss, he bobbed his head and arched a brow in indication of the smoke, "—Thanks."

Gripping the cigarette between his lips, he readied his pencil and notebook again, speaking around it while prepared to write down her words, juggling his duty with the distraction with what anyone else may have considered his typical charm, "Another ten minutes or so. I'll let you be on your way before the Patties arrive."
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