Fable - Ask Echoes

[Aeyliea]

It was damned hot.

The sun had already settled low on the horizon, and the stink of humanity in all its varied forms lie thick on the air. It was a cloying miasma to one born where the scorching winds blew in from the deserts. Even a year later, she could not become comfortable among the ancestors of traitors. Idolators, heathens every last one - turned away from the light of the Seven.

And just what do you think you are? Her face soured into something unlovely. It had already been pretty sour from the heat, the sweat running down her back and between her breasts. Her unadorned leather armor bore dark patches where sweat had soaked in, breeches and undershirt equally sodden and stinking. She hated the thick air of the coast. She hated the reality of her situation even more.

She leaned against the wall beside the door. The inn was a two-story affair, the kind frequented by very wealthy merchants but beneath the dignity of most nobles. Her patron was indoors, just then - an odious man (or woman) - wearing a hooded leather cloak, a mask fashioned in the shape of an unsmiling face with only the eyes cut out. The patron smelled faintly of a tomb, that earthy musty smell of ancient death. She found herself making the gesture of the warding eye whenever he - or she - was not looking.

She very much disliked working for the creature, but money was money. She was without clan, outcast by her own. Morality was an expensive commodity to someone like her, especially given that she did not see many others to be much better. He could be a murderer or worse and still be little worse than the other traitors and oath-breakers that peopled the society of the world Outside.

<<"Wish the Seven-damned other one would show up so we could be gone from this stinking pit,">> she muttered to herself in her native tongue. The words flowed like blood over stone, a peculiar cadence lovely in its savagery. Her horse looked up from the water trough where she had it tied up and snorted at her, then went back to drinking. She shook her head, bones and stones and feathers clicking and fluttering in the intricate braid down her back and elsewhere.

She stewed in her own juices and waited for another that were to act as escort for their strange patron on his - or her - strange journey.

 

[Thror Firemane]

Thror was running late to his rendezvous with his new client. He had taken a bit longer in the bathhouse to get the dwarf clean for it had been a very long time since his last. His twany beard and hair had been matted and the ladies had a rough go in making it right. Thror's constant and borderline abusive berating also did not help matters. It was lucky he had the coin to pay for the service or the women would have tossed him out into the streets naked as a newborn baby.

It wasn't just his body that got cleansed, he had also paid for his clothing to be washed. He felt fresh, his deer hide tunic and trousers, studded leather armor, and his clan's green tartan all smelt like lavender. Thror could easily feel the wind coming up from the ocean brush through his hair. He also made a point of getting clean before starting a new adventure, like a fresh start for luck. He could not care less if his employer or companions were also happy he was clean. The problem with washing in a bathhouse within a city like Alliria was that it did not take long to feel filthy again. One deep breath and you could taste and smell the flatulence of civilization. Thousands and thousands of people stacked on top of each other, sweat, defecation, and rot were just some of the smells that could be recognized through one's assaulted senses. For a ranger like Thror, made spending any amount of time in cities or sizeable towns unbearable.

Eventually, Thror collected his pony from the stables and made his way to the inn where he was to meet up with the new client. He had met the client prior, he was of the mysterious sort wearing a cloak and mask to hide his identity. If it was even a he. Had to be human, Thror thought, for humans were always up to no good. Either way, coins were coins.....

A little while longer Thror had made his way to the inn, round the corner riding his steppe pony. He saw the dark figure of his client but he was not alone. There was a silver-haired copper-skinned woman waiting as well. Thror could tell she was highly uncomfortable, her clothes and leather armor were drenched in sweat which made the dwarf believe she was not accustomed to the humid heat of coming off the ocean. The few scales on her body and the copper skin concluded that she was of the Aberresai Savannah, one of the No'rei peoples. Thror inwardly sighed with a hard grimace on his face. He did not have great dealings with Nor'rei, most of his travels through the Savannah were spent avoiding their tribes and their 'behaviors' towards outsiders and intruders.

"Whit is thes scaly brush fekker daein' haur?" Thror growled towards his client, his voice grizzled with the deep belgrathian accent. The dwarven ranger wasn't expecting to have company, hence his sunny disposition. She was armed like a warrior making it obvious she was another sword for hired for this journey. "Ah am nae splittin' mah pay wi' thes lassie!"

Aeyliea

 

[Aeyliea]

The minutes dragged on. The buzzing of the ever-present flies grew ever more grating, their biting no less a nuisance for the fact that she could not really feel them. People moving by in the streets cast her sidelong looks as they went; her pedigree was not precisely well known outside of the Sea, but some knew the disposition of her kindred.

Some knew.

After a time, her employer stepped back out of the inn. They were not much taller than she was, their clothing designed to obscure their body so that it was difficult to tell if they were thick or thin, man or woman. The voice that issued from behind that mask was decidedly male, though: a sensuous baritone that belonged on a stately noble. "Ah, kin of the desert. Good to see you are here. All that needs doing is for our esteemed comrade to join us and then we can be about our business."

Aeyliea gave the man a sidelong look and said nothing. She often did not speak; actions spoke louder in most cases. In this one she touched the short throwing spears in their case at her back. She had a light crossbow on the saddle of her horse, too, but that was not a weapon she preferred.

"It seems that our friend is late," they said. This time the voice came in a falsetto, and Aeyliea found herself doing a double take. Strange. Man or woman, still impossible to tell. "In any case, it would seem our wait is over." Another voice, different than the first two.

Odd.

The No'rei glanced at the newcomer as they were announced. Short and stocky, she was not too familiar with his race. He made noises with his mouth that she was sure was supposed to be language - though what language was anyone's guess. She scowled at him, one lip curled up disdainfully to expose an extremely long incisor. She rose without comment, slinging the case with her spears on her back.

"You will accept the pay that was offered to you and accept the company of those I deign to bring along, Thror," the creature said mildly. It was a child's voice this time, gender indistinct. A thread of amusement ran beneath it all. "Even when she is making her superstitious gestures, the Seer is a woman of many talents."

She quickly hid her right hand, the one that had been making the warding gesture while their employer had been speaking to the dwarf. She did not apologize.

"You will need the talents you possess," said a young man. "You may call me Aman. I'll excuse your low humor," they said - tittering to themselves as if it was the greatest joke in the world - before continuing. "We have many miles to cover, and much danger and derring-do to overcome and accomplish."

He clapped his hands. Nothing happened immediately.

Aeyliea looked at Thror, turned, and spit on the ground beside her before letting that malevolent stare settle on top of his head. A few moment later, a strange carriage rattled up to the front of the inn. It was drawn by a pair of animals that looked like horses. There was just something off. The rest of the conveyance was built like an oversized cauldron of steel, crooked stovepipe winding out the top and spewing something almost like smoke. The door on it had no window.

"Having second thoughts?" A little girl's voice this time. "Now is the time to back out if you haven't the nerve." The baritone back again.

Aeyliea shook her head. She didn't care how strange their patron was. All she wanted to do was be rid of this city and the damned wet heat, to be back out in the open places again. Even if it meant more intrusions from the unwelcome guest in her head.