Fable - Ask One Big Game

[Kiros Rahnel]

Ah, Cerak -AtThul. There once was a time when Kiros believed he hailed from the lands holding the worst of banditry, corruption and endless bloodshed. His opinion of his homeland hardly changed, but ever since he first set foot into this garish, rotting town it was clear there was a lower low, and the Cerakians had achieved it. The black bay, vibrant and gorgeous as it was, gave false hope and expectations to any ignorant newcomers who arrived; expectations that would be immediately dashed by the dilapidated buildings (if you could even call them that) and wanton cruelty strewn along the streets.

It was largely for this reason he forwent his usual robes, opting instead for a dull grey tunic. He didn’t need or want any attention; it was the worst thing one could have in these slums. Off in the distance, pained screams could be heard – likely from some poor victim who obtained exactly that sort of attention. Kiros ignored the cries with reluctance and displeasure. Were these any other lands he would have been well spurned to help; but that doesn’t work out so well here. One victim or two, that’s the decision. Any option for zero was right out in this wretched place.

He was no stranger to it, at the very least. Cerak was a city that he had regrettably come to know after his permanent departure from home, its black market was the one place he could still easily acquire certain goods and reagents now that he was cut off from the bazaars of Amol-Kalit. It was a task the incognito priest undertook with haste; the sooner he could make his way back to the portal stone, the better. He couldn’t leave fast enough.

The crowd grew more and more dense as Kiros made his way eastward through the city, overhearing a commotion that he too chose to ignore. The chaotic shouts grew louder as the crowd grew thicker and soon the reason for the commotion was within sight; a grisly swordfight between an uncountable number of participants. Whatever the reason, he was content to deprive himself of that knowledge with an immediate departure through a side alley. It would be a longer route home, but given the chaos, the far wiser one too.

In all his infrequent visits to these lands, this was a road he had yet to travel on. Sprawling shelters that once cluttered the sides of the road grew more sparse as he ventured on. Safer from the chaos of the city, yet more vulnerable to highwaymen – a profession the locals would often turn to immediately when a stranger walked their midst. He walked softly with staff in hand and eyes carefully on his surroundings as he searched for a route back towards his destination; but before he’d find one he would lay sight on a field containing horses. Not unusual in the slightest, but an unexpected one for the priest. He had saved more money than he expected in the black market, which left him ample enough extra to purchase a mount. A transaction he was originally going to put off until his return due to his hurry to leave – but if there was a stable already before him, why not look now?

Turning off the path, he made his detour. Some horses would look up curiously, others were far too busy grazing to give the man any care. Kiros looked about for a handler; anyone really. He couldn’t even be too sure that this would be an establishment of trade, but he had time to find out. Spotting a man off in the distance he gave a loud but friendly shout out towards his way.

“Hello! Are these yours? Do you do trade here?”

Dylan Bleathely

 

[Dylan Bleathely]

Dylan nodded and shouted in the affirmative, though he couldn't believe his luck today, really. The man who had asked the question didn't look like he was from around here.

Would that, perhaps, be his ticket out of here? He loved his horses, and his job of training them, having had an affinity with the huge beasts from a young age, much like his father before him. But Cerak was an awful place in which to practice anything life-giving, knowing that sooner or later, that life would probably be snuffed out.

He had been saving enough money to potentially travel for years, but had never quite managed to make enough. Despite his relatively young age, growing up in Cerak made him feel older than his years.

But perhaps today would put him over the top at last. As horses went, his were relatively well cared for, as much as they could be in such surroundings and with such plants as he had to work with. The truth, though, was that he suspected not many people wanted to venture into Cerak nowadays, with all the evil seemingly worse at times than it might have been before- or so Dylan's parents told him. And this was probably a good part of the reason why he didn't make many sales lately. He did worry about what would become of his horses if he left, but more and more often, he thought of getting out of here. The stranger's friendly shout was a welcome distraction from the screams of another emotion entirely.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

The tall, foreign man smiled at the response; both happy to confirm this was the place to make a purchase and that he’d found someone who can help him. Though his previous shout carried a tinge of accent, subtle as it was, it was doubtless hard to miss as he spoke:

“Bless my luck; I could use a steed – I’ve got a contract out in the west Aberresai Savannah. Though I’m unsure what the source of the problem is...I’m foreseeing a fair bit of travel. What do you think might be best? Your knowledge must exceed mine on the subject.” He explained, walking stick tucked into his elbow as he conversed with the farmhand before him.

“Oh– and I’m Kiros, of the Monster Hunters out in Elbion. A pleasure to meet you.” He’d greet him with a smile. He couldn’t help but feel things out of place, albeit not with the stables or farm themselves. The fields were well tended, the horses healthy and the man before him polite. It looked like a nice farm all in all; but in Cerak, anything ‘nice’ was well out of place indeed. He could only wonder why Dylan stayed here – but then again he himself stayed in Amol-Kalit until his thirties...and he hated that place too.

Kiros was content to follow along as Dylan would show him the available horses, with his hand reaching for his coin bag as he walked along. Patting around the area of his pocket was a fruitless search however, and his expression turned to concern as he began to realize its absence...

“Probably pickpocketed...” He thought in realization all too late, as most victims of the crime tend to. What money he had managed to save through careful shopping seemed lost and in the hands of some unknown thief. At least he had managed to purchase what supplies he needed, but would no doubt fall short of the price required for the horse. He pondered how he might best to explain it before he made the defeated comment.

“I may be short on coin...seems a nice resident decided to help carry my things, without my notice...”

Dylan Bleathely

 

[Dylan Bleathely]

Dylan nodded, though he looked disappointed for more than one reason when the man said someone seemed to have stolen his coins. "A pleasure to meet you, Kiros Rahnel. I am Dylan Bleathely. It seems a good many of our residents are so... helpful." Dylan made a face of disgust. "But rest assured I am not one of them, though that's exactly why I was counting on the coin. To take as many of my animals as possible and get out of here." Since the man seemed to share his disgust, Dylan felt no apprehension in telling him this. "As you can probably see, anything life-giving is rather...difficult here." He had had a bag packed for awhile, though he regularly tried on the clothes inside it every few months to make sure they still fit.

"This one rides fast," he suggested, petting the nose of a chestnut stallion with white markings on his face. "You might need to cover a lot of ground, I'm guessing. And his twin brother here is a little smaller and won't eat as much." Dylan had several horses, but he chose the ones he thought might best suit his customer's needs first of all. He could have mentioned his other decent skill besides training and selling animals- fighting- but it seemed ridiculous to mention under the circumstances, and desperate to boot. His dream would be put on hold once again- maybe for another year or so until some other stranger dared venture here. But there was nothing he could do about it but to try and make the best of what he could not help. At least one of his animals would go with someone who had need. Dylan had already decided to give the man what he asked for despite what he could or could not pay. It was the way he had been raised.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“A pleasure to meet you as well...and something I’ve come to expect from this place. I thought I’d kept an eye on that...” he replied, returning an apologetic expression both at his lack of money, and the well mannered nature of the man before him. Kiros had earnestly expected Dylan to cease interest and ignore him at the remark; that he didn’t further reinforced the notion that he was a man of better moral fibre than the vast majority of the city’s other denizens. He certainly carried awareness of the city’s issues, and from his attitude, they no doubt plagued him as well.

“I regret to I come without payment; especially when your goal is a noble and wise one.” Kiros replied, listening on as Dylan nonetheless spoke of horses and his own needs. That Dylan remained cordial was a surprise, but that he seemed to want to help him regardless floored the older man. The gift he was being bestowed with prompted him to speak in a sympathetic tone.

“I am most thankful, but it pains me to be the cause of delay for you to pack up and leave... I only wish I had left my homeland sooner, too.“ It was a reflection on an erstwhile regret of his own; much could have been avoided had he left Amol-Kalit earlier than he did. He could have even lived a peaceful life; one seemingly denied to Dylan – to all in Cerak, for that matter.

"But rest assured I am not one of them, though that's exactly why I was counting on the coin. To take as many of my animals as possible and get out of here."

“I cannot help with coin at the moment; but I could help you leave this place. I’ve supplies for two to travel; the extra meant for a warrior. One I still need to recruit; I can’t fulfill this contract on my own.” He explained, still wearing his sympathetic look, taking empathy with Dylan, stuck as he was in his position. But he was in need of a warrior, and not only that held a ticket out of this place. It was a gamble no doubt; the promise of money wasn’t quite the same as actually having it in hand.

“But you saved me time with this steed, it’s the very least I can do for now. I can always get more supplies back on the continent; I’ve already been hanging onto these for a while in the event that I do come across one skilled with sword. This contract should yield plenty enough coin; I’d not deny it to one who needs it. And if you need to get away from here, well you do need it badly.” He added, no doubt as oblivious to Dylan’s skills in fighting as the young man was to the plain-clothed Kiros’s skills in magic.

Dylan Bleathely