~Garyth Parkins
Year of Birth-NE 200
Year of Death-NE 241
)0(
A Ranger's Tale
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“So how’s…”
“The patient? Fine, if I say so myself. At least he
lives to fight another day…” snorted the poulter in reply to Ross’ concern,
“Tell him not to start a fight he cannot win, that’s my advice to the old
fart.”
Ross could only stay her tongue as the middle aged man
departed in a huff, knowledge of Twong’s temperament being the cause. Looking
back at the poultice lodge, the kindly matron pursed her lips. With nary a
single word uttered from his mouth, Twong could only rely on wild gestures and
incoherent grunts, his struggle against another man’s probing hands proving to
be absolute comedy. Indeed only two individuals understood this grouchy old
man. Ross was one, Yeovil the other.
“Old fart hates getting touched no matter where, figured
you should have known it years ago.”
In spite of his customary barbs, Ross giggled out loud
in the middle of a garden finely manicured. Out of the trio, Yeovil was the
second oldest after Twong, yet no one else knew his shady past. When she’s
merely servant lass of fifteen winters, this rotund man before her laughing
eyes was still in jail. If not for Louthes Eliaden reaching a decision to pay
his freedom price, Yeovil the Sword would have faced the hangman in public
view. Twong at that time was already House Eliaden’s oldest servant and
Houseman, the addition of an outlaw angering him to no end. Louthes was content
to enjoy their bickering fights, Ross would always be amused by his constant
japes amounting to calling Twong a bald old jackass.
“So how’s the girl?”
Caught off guard by Yeovil’s abrupt question, Ross
could only nod dumbly. Snorting his approval, the portly man departed with a
curt, yet civil salute. Shaking her head in resignation, the kindly maidservant
smiled wistfully as Yeovil entered yet another unpredictable bout. Previously,
he had thrashed half a tavern. Before then, he entered a joking fest with a
group of unnamed youths half way through. Mayhap there’s really a truthful
nugget when Louthes received a warning in cynical jest.
This is Yeovil
the Sword, number one cutthroat plying his trade on the Endless Straits.
)0(
“You sure you don’t know a thing?”
Hye’Na shook her head timidly in front of Yeovil’s
iron stare. When Simple Melys sent word that the Head of Home Guards was
searching for her, she was still wondering whether it’s due to her snacking
secretly in the pantry. Never had she witness the jovial old man displaying
such menacing look, a paranoid suspicion suddenly surfaced within her quavering
from, that he might just rape her on the spot. After all, flattering
compliments were drawn to her like bees to honey, it seems that being different
do have its own unique factors.
“Hey,
sexy lady! You look pretty lonely here! Wanna have some fun with us?”
“Wow, I
really envy whoever the lucky bastard scoring with you… oops, excuse my
rudeness, ha ha…”
“You
really look like our recently departed Young Mistress… must be because you’re a
Cinha as well…”
“Good,” muttered Yeovil, his expression lightening up.
As he got up from the wooden chair, he gave her slender shoulder a gentle
squeeze.
“Stay
away from your saviour, for he’s a dark one and reeks of blood.”
Abrupt gale suddenly assailing her covered back, the
attractive Cinha maid realized she forgot to close the window. It was daytime
and she couldn’t risk getting caught for pilfering food. It wasn’t her wrong to
be born with a heavy appetite, getting out as soon as possible became her first
priority. Aeranath found her a job and lodging, may the Sanshinki damn her if
she let him down.
As she
locked the oaken door, she snuck a final look back. ‘Tis a mere simple shack
made of stone and wood, Unmei no Hye’Na wondered whether Yeovil was right in
judging the unknown Ranger.
)0(
“Why did
you admit you’re part of them?”
I looked up at him in annoyance. Who's he to boss me around? Not even Ceres does that and
she’s pretty much the fiercest girl I've ever come across.
“Because
I want to be truthful, that’s why!”
A roaring
laughter disturbed the nighttime sky, that man’s visage showing plenty of
humour. I never saw someone so weird before, this isn't about manners. Yeah I
got myself into stupid situations and my life is full of problems, but does he
have to be so blunt? Ceres once said laughing is good for you, laughing at
other people is not.
Then he
ceased making noise, his towering back facing towards me. Without turning back
once, he walked away from my life. When we first met, he called himself a
bastard. I don’t know what the word means, but I heard the grown-ups using it
many times. Ceres told me not to copy their example though.
“Saints
don't exist, boy. So long as you retain the courage to admit your flaws and
face this cruel world, ten years from now you'll be a splendid man.”
A
splendid man? No one has ever said I’ll be a splendid man. Not even Ceres or
Abel. Yet, this bastard can cast a large shadow indeed. A shadow larger than
greatest of all heroes…
)0(
“So the cub is now awake. Have you grown up a little more?”
Guy Cody looked at the speaker with wary eyes
narrowed, sapphire flames simmering within his soul. That bastard remaining
alive after all, the young lion desired not to know the reason why. Spring was
nearing its end, his blood coursing like burning magma. Memories of combat
training in Merseyside staying fresh in his mind, Guy could still remember it
was summer back then.
If the Ranger felt any apprehension from Guy’s glaring
look, he did not make it show. Lounging casually on a cheap leather couch, his
posture was deceptively languid. He could have invited himself an attack, the
Kalaran lad was not stupid enough not to notice a longsword sheathed resting
against the shoulder. However, the most damning part was the fact that both are
in his lodging room.
“Excuse me…” whispered a pretty Sudhlit lass as the
hardwood door opened slightly.
“Excuse me, but what you want?” snapped Aeranath
peevishly, “A shag with two real men instead of one?”
“Stop this bullshitting, fucker,” snarled Guy, “Ithi’s
been through plenty of…”
“Trauma,” finished the True Apostle, “Is that what you
want to say? You golden retard, that’s what whores are paid for.”
The lone wolf did not have to wait long for this young
lion to crack under his taunting bite, curling snarl and a piercing roar ripped
asunder the tense quiet air. Smirking like an actual bastard born, Aeranath
merely rooted himself on the spot, azure jewels of icy fire scrutinising sapphire
orbs of heated steel. As for the raging lion, he pinned his quarry against the
greying wall, simmering anger lending strength to a forearm choking against the
obnoxious fellow’s neck.
“This
is a whorehouse, I can smell the bitches from five miles out,” Aeranath’s smile
retaining still, mirth stark as bare naked sword dissipated like burning flames
snuffed out by wintry cold, “Don’t tell me you paid for this kind of room.”
Yeah I
paid for the room, you bastard.
Irony behind his thoughts not lost unto him, Guy Cody
suddenly remembered a certain episode where he saved a noble girl from getting
raped by equally noble lads.
“Fuck
you! We paid for her lips and holes!”
“Okay, so
what else’s new?”
“Not too shabby for a shitty county, I supposed,” withdrawing
his smug expression altogether, Aeranath never bothered himself over his visage
exposed in front of a flabbergasted Sudhlit girl, “Wooden floor, wall made of
stone… so what else’s new?”
“Cheap bed, cheap lodgings, plenty of shit facing a
piss poor bunch. Does that answer your curiosity?”
The gruff speaker turned out not to be Guy Cody, but
Moggray Tonn. Majestic build greeting the True Apostle instead of further
words, Aeranath offered a nonchalant shrug as his choice compliment. Locking
stares against each other, a stifling silence soon made way for tension
unspoken, Guy’s heart started to beat rapidly. Any pace faster, the sandy blond
would doubt he’s able to survive any longer. Resting a casual hand on his
sheathed sword’s hilt, the Ranger approached Moggray’s stiffening form with a
lazy swag. Betraying only faintest of wicked smile, Aeranath drifted past the
Gaffer of Teesside Division…
…and
promptly continuing his stroll without intentional accidents committed.
“Boy,” barked out the Ranger as he took a glance back,
his action gone not unnoticed by Guy’s sharpest eye, “Just want to give you
some worthy praise.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. That will make me look
stupid.”
Maniacal laughter erupting forth, the young lion from
Teesside was served a callous reminder of that most damning day in his life.
“After
today’s patrolling round, I’m gonna get married, Guy.”
“Good for
you, Catts. Elys’ a nice girl, you’re an enviable bastard. Just remember to
send invitation.”
“Sure,
cretin. At least you ain’t dumb enough to compliment her bedroom skills. I’m
the only one who deserves this right, hope you score some girl soon.”
“Been
ten years plus one, you’re a splendid lad now,” came the derisive verdict
delivered, “Try harder and you’ll be a wonderful man.”
Ithi
was roughly shoved into Guy’s room as Aeranath stalked away from everyone’s
wide eyed sight. Moggray was shocked by the Ranger’s whimsical tantrum thrown,
Ithi blushing furiously after noticing herself somehow in a young lion’s grasp.
As for the Sudhlit harlot’s only guardian, he could only afford a frown
knitting his brows together, swirling thoughts wondering what had forced a
curtly warm tone one decade ago into bitter cynicism.
Bah, fuck it, Guy Cody. Just fuck
it and leave him be…
)0(
“Karen,
I did say this is a dumb idea,” quavered a petite brunette, her raven haired
companion trying to erect a brave front before a lustful trio.
“Well,
not so a dumb idea since our customers do have exotic tastes,” leered a lean
wiry lad, “They would pay a fortune for noble whores.”
“Hey!
We’re the nobility!” snapped Karen’s friend, “This is Lady Joenne of House
Nances and the noble girl behind me is…”
“Lady
Karen of House Tenias,” growled the oldest of three, “How can I forget her face
after what her good-for-nothing father did to my only child? To think this
happened only two years ago…”
“I…
I…”
“I’m
sorry for my father’s deeds, right?” snapped the youngest member who looked
merely twelve winters old, hot tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, “Try
telling that to your old man’s cock! Ol’Jorg’s filly was supposed to be my only
friend! Granad Tenias brutally raped her to death!”
“Uh,
Karen…” gulped Joenne, “I don’t like where this is going…”
“Allow
this humble boy come to your fairest aid then.”
“Huh?”
before the wiry youth could register the change in situation, a brutal gash was
drawn across his throat while disembowelled on the spot. The remaining two
trembled before an androgynous brunette lad dressed in fine linen clothes, a
pair of daggers gleaming red toyed about under dimming torches. No joy was
shown nor grief, only an expression devoid of emotions. This was truly a puppet
made of flesh and bone.
“So
what’s your call?” came his deceptive whisper, “Coin or vengeance, life or
death? I’ll only count till three.”
Jorg
became the first victim as he roared in anger, a dagger biting deeply into his
left eye. The unnamed boy could only soil himself before such brutal sight, his
only kin weeping geysers of blood. Karen tried gripping onto Joenne’s hand, she
soon realised her only solace had slipped into coma. Her heart racing rapidly
akin to a mare desperate for escape, she could only rally a certain memory four
years back…
…that of a boy towering like a
man, a youth casting a very large shadow indeed over her near naked form.
“Forgive
me, for Lukas Brun is no hero,” muttered the brown haired lad almost
apologetically, his condolences sounding like a horn after slaughter. Hazel
green gaze then turned its hunger onto a half-naked Karen Tenias, the
inevitable about to befall.
“Most
amazing grace not to call this city’s Watch! Heard you calling yourself Lukas
Brun.”
The
only child of House Tenias tensed up considerably, a familiar stranger greeting
her. A man who saved her from getting raped by slavering Orcs, this was an
enigma which aroused many questions left unanswered. A Ranger, sellsword, just
another victim of her father’s cruelty…
…and mayhap even a non-mortal
entity also.
“Got
myself busted, huh?” sighed Lukas Brun, his battle stance readied. If the
Ranger had any opinions on his latest opponent, however, he never made it show.
Not even a slightest smile, that is.
“Let
me guess…” mused the dark sellsword, a gloved hand stroking his pointed chin,
“Both legs slightly apart with back crouched like a cat… no, this posture of
yours is more streamlined… more like a swimmer earning his keep in the sea. So
what’s your Truth? Mine’s a wolf, now your turn.”
If
there should be any expectations, it would be a dagger flying into the face.
Karen got up in response, she cared not for whatever flagrant nudity exposed.
Before she could utter a screaming statement, a flock of crows supplanted her
presence. Incessant cawing from carrion birds failing to dull a duel’s fatal
edge, Aeranath grabbed the weapon by its hilt in middle of flight.
A split instance opening his
target up, Lukas Brun dived in for the kill. Crimson fluid was spilt, the blood
not belonging to the attacker. The defender never flinching, death was kept
leagues away at bay. A grey gauntleted hand being sole sacrificial offering,
Lukas instead received a longsword’s keenest bite.
“You
took my hand, I can take your life,” with nary a mirth present, a knee was
shoved into Lukas’ abdomen leaving his winded. Final statement exacted by the
Ranger, his blood shed moments earlier was splattered across Lukas Brun’s
beautiful face via a simple flick. Yet, the androgynous brunette refused to
bend his knee.
“Good
resilience here, dolphin. This wolf is called Aeranath,” flickering sneer
accompanying an impromptu introduction, another party abruptly joined the fray.
“Lukas?
What the fuck you’re doing here?”
“My,
my… ‘tis an unlucky day to get yourself busted,” japed Lukas wryly, “Sorry
there, pal.”
Silvery
flash streaking towards a startled Guy Cody, only a strong hand halting its
course prevented an outright gory death. Fingers handling the finely crafted
blade accurately, Moggray Tonn’s rugged build truly belied an astonishing
dexterity.
“Sorry
there, son,” quipped the Teesside veteran, “Not used to having half a hand
instead of one.”
If
fair Lukas Brun possessed any answer to the Northern Lion’s sarcasm, nothing
was said, for nothing got left behind.
“Slippery
bugger slipped away,” grunted Aeranath, “Indeed only dolphins are intelligent
enough to pick their own fights.”
“Enough
of your childishness!” snapped the old lion, “We got three dead people up on
our hands, I feel sorry for the smallest.”
“Don’t
we all?” shrugged the True Apostle, “People die in war, one has to gut another
to stay alive.”
)0(
“Erm…
thank you very much, Guy,” blushed Karen, her current muted garb of brown creating a contrast with the simple baby blue dress torn off an hour earlier, “I never expected to meet you here…”
“It’s
okay,” murmured the sandy blond, “I never expected people to see me in a
whorehouse as well.”
“That’s
not my meaning!” exclaimed the noble lady, “Even harlots…”
“…deserve
respect?” chuckled the youthful lion, his sandy mane billowing along the sudden
strong breeze, “No wonder Alestrial seemed particularly close to you… look
around and tell me what you see.”
“Simple
layout,” observed the raven haired beauty, “Everything you’ll end up imagining
in a tavern.”
“And
girls sold into slavery of worst kind,” growled the Kalaran beast in harsh
reply, bluish fury flashing like a never ending storm, “Fucking hate this,
guess you call it moral instinct.”
Karen
giggled in spite of herself, the athletic lad realising what went wrong.
“Err…
wait, I’m sorry… I mean…”
“No,
‘tis fine by me,” her sensual lips drew up a smile, “Do you remember that day
when we first met? Or maybe I should call it night.”
“You
look more like a dove than anything else. If nothing else, then I take my leave.
Pardon me for not giving you a farewell
curtsy.”
Those
were Guy Cody’s final words before his departure, Karen Tenias’ ever trustful
heart reminding her why she chose to cast her lot with a commoner’s boy.
“I remember him standing over the
fallen, Joenne. Guy Cody was merely a commoner's son and still remains so. Yet,
I can never forget the moment where I witnessed a lion amongst men fighting for
my chastity's sake despite being total strangers back then...”
Those words
were spoken a day after said ordeal, this was also when the young Maistress of
House Tenias ceased her self-indulgent ways.
)0(
“So how’s life,
Gemma?” smiled Southgate Garrat wistfully before his aging old flame.
“Should
I ask you how’s your family, Southgate love?” replied a slim middle aged woman
decorated with little wrinkles, “Life as a whore is never easy, figured you
should’ve known me.”
The
stocky brunette could only suffer regret and heart pangs silently,
understanding that some things are not meant to be only made his inner hell
worse. Surveying the brothel he purchased for her, he really owed Parnaby Davow
some massive debt which money could never resolve.
Don’t worry, Southgate. I got her
well covered, I’m not gonna hound you for sum paid.
“So
I heard you got into a fit again?”
“Only
because Big Gun harassed Ithi and I don’t take kindly any horny bastard
treating my girls any worse than they should,” hissed Gemma much to Southgate
amusement.
“Funny
to know I’ve been trying to evade you, but still guess I can’t forget the
past,” a smoking trail was exhaled as the soldier enjoyed his final puff, irony
behind his constant escape not lost on him.
“You
got a wife, you can’t have me,” huffed the old hen of Pleasure Bode, “I made it
bloody clear before, I’ll make it bloodier clear right here, right now.”
“Spare
me please, Your Royal Lioness,” guffawing laughter breaking out suddenly, this
wasn’t the first time Gemma saw her lover’s idiosyncrasy.
Your Royal Lioness… yep, that’s
good enough to call him idiosyncratic. Might as well hurt his prideful ass now,
who knows when we’ll meet again?
“I
think Ithi likes him, I believe Ithi won't be the last to feel this way. Sorry,
Southgate love. Lad is way better a charmer than you decades ago.”
“What?
You mean Guy Cody? That’s a barking mad statement, Gemma. No offence intended
though.”
)0(
Background notes:
A poulter is a physician working under any given noble House. Due to healing being an art much sought after, poulters are often pledged to their respective Houses for life with taking unofficial leave tantamount to high treason.
Sanshinki: Trinity pantheon of Furthest East, they serve as the Cinha's only deities. Its members are listed below.
He-Who-Must-Be-Given-Praise; Tsurugi no Gou'Ryeo-Depicted as a handsome youth tall and strong, he is the patron god of warfare. Legend has it that he led the first fathers of Cinha lineage to constant victory against the foul beings called Oni while riding without armour and armed with his fearful yedo, Ame no Habakiri.
She-Who-Is-Wise-And-Beautiful; Mirai no Silla-Depicted as a naked beautiful lady lithe and seductive, she is the matron goddess of politics and intrigue. Lauded for her ability in clairvoyance, she was said to be the mother of all civilisations. Her only weapon was a clear bronze mirror, Yata no Kagami.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Revealed; Rounin no Baekje-Depicted as a fourteen year old boy bearing an unsightly scarred countenance, he is rumoured to be the only son born from Tsurugi no Gou'Ryeo and Mirai no Silla. Shunned by his parents, he managed to strike a deal with them. In exchange for deity status, he cannot take any followers unless through their own choice. Known as the child god of every outcast, the necklace of precious stones held in his hand goes by the name, Yasakani no Magatama.
)0(
