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Talmar of Visigoth

"It's time to fight. Again..."

0 · 446 views · located in The World

a character in “Era of Bloodshed”, as played by Redred33mer




Race: Khadryan
Gender: Male
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 302 lbs.
Weapon of Choice: Custom Zweihander (as pictured, its much wider than normal swords)
Khadryan Psionic Trait: Fire

Brief Background

Talmar is a captain in the Visigoth military and led the charge against Azurei's capitol. He was part of the force that secured the capitol building itself, and captured Azurei's leaders. In the following "surrender," Talmar killed one of Azurei's leaders to demonstrate the brutality of Visigoth, by literally ripping her throat out with his bare hand.

He's an incredibly competent sword fighter, and carries a stigma of unrelenting savagery about him. Perhaps this is because of his history in battle, or the tales of his belligerence floating around the rest of the army. In fact, a member of the Provenance Guard is tasked with overseeing Talmar, who absolutely detests wearing Visigoth uniform.

Khadryan Race Traits: This is in reference for all Khadryans.

+Psionics: Khadryans are psionic beings originating from the frozen wastelands of the south. This means they can manipulate energy and objects that are around him, much like telekinesis. This also means that he can sense energies and objects around them, and they does not need to rely on eyesight. However, this can take a bit of concentration, and can only do it minimally when they're fighting.

+/- Anatomy: Khadryan anatomy differs, but is similar to a human's. For instance, they have more veins, nerves, and an extra heart chamber to circulate more blood so that muscles can work more efficiently (so that they're stronger), and that their bodies are wired more so that reflexes are faster and they are more observant. However, these require larger lungs, and an assortment of drawbacks. Being hit can be critical, because being cut into may induce temporary paralysis to a certain part of the body, and they can bleed out faster. Bleeding faster also means becoming unconscious faster. Because of these physical traits, Khadryans eat a lot, are winded more easily, and are generally taller.

++/- Ultra-humanoid: When confronted with a life threatening situation, and having the will to live (this is key as many in the Inari Icelands died from this), ultra-humanoid features are elicited. A dark cerulean ring expands from the dominant eye as veins sprout from that eye into the side of their head, glowing a neon yellowy orange. As a result, chemicals released in their body allow for an unnatural display of speed and power, and grant the ability to control one of six assets determined at birth (fire, water, earth, air, light, and darkness) as part of heightened psionic ability. With practice, after it has been induced for a first time, one can learn to control it, though it is very painful. Using this ultra-humanoid state has its drawbacks as well, such as using your assets drains energy, and using them to their greatest extent drains the wielder of all its energy, incapacitating him/her for close to twelve hours. It can also only be sustained for so long, as the chemicals that induce this state corrode muscles. This also makes it difficult to carry on after a Khadryan comes out of this state, because it takes some time for the muscles to heal.

+ Accelerated Healing: Khadryans are able to heal faster naturally, even most nerves can be healed Fractured bones and damaged organs can heal within three weeks, fully.

- Magical Inability: Khadryans cannot use magic, other than their natural psionic abilities.

The Six Ultra-Humanoid Abilities

All Khadryans have magnificent control over one of six fields, water, earth, fire, wind, and two rarer ones, light and darkness. Aside from the obvious, there are a few things Khadryans have been able to do with their mastery in the four more basic fields, which would be surprising to most if not all magic users.

Water - Having magnificent control over waters, a Khadryan born with this trait could create cyclones as tall as the combined height of ten men, or condense water and send it at velocities great enough to shatter bone. However, both of these require a plethora of energy, and cannot be done multiple times or sustained for more than five minutes before they would collapse of exhaustion.

Earth - Capable of shaping rock and unrefined metal as they please, a Khadryan with this trait could craft bridges or lift rocks to use as projectiles against an enemy, or craft towers or farmlands bit by bit.

Fire - With the ability to create fire in thin air, this trait is a bit different. There are different intensities that can be used, shown by the color of the user's fire and/or flames (from red to blue, then to white). Although hot, it cannot ignite anything because of its psionic properties. However, if intense enough, the flames can cut through different materials.

Wind - Wind is the most energy efficient, as air is less dense than all other materials, and fire is a constant conversion of energy. Users can create temporary air currents and can even fly. Two extreme abilities of a wind-wielder would be that they can create artificial tornadoes, but not for very long, and that they can change the air pressure of a designated area to high enough it can compact objects. However, this requires constant concentration of the user, and both drain energy quickly.

Light - Light is far less common than the first four. It involves the ability to manipulate lightning at the fingertips, and can draw energy from nearby objects as long as they reflect light. Because of this, people born with this trait can often do incredible techniques without feeling as winded as another. With mastery of this, lightning can pierce materials, or even explode upon impact. Additionally, Khadryans of this trait can create mirages and blind others temporarily with a flash of light.

Darkness - This trait is as rare as the "light" trait is. Darkness can be a cruel thing to deal with and use. A user of this would be shrouded in a dark azure and black aura, and even if something were to cut through them, it could be like cutting through a cloud as their bodies become wispy and then solid again. Still, this costs energy for them. Additionally, they can create creatures of illusion to aid them in their battles; the more they have, the more energy consumed, and . Lastly, they can teleport short distances up to 100 feet, but this costs incredible energy. The occurrence of their teleportation is hinted at by them being completely concealed in their aura.

So begins...

Talmar of Visigoth's Story


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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Era of Bloodshed

It had only been three days since the surrender at Azurei. What its citizens new as a way of life had been trampled. In the capitol, the military had posted sentries in many of the city's vantage points and on its once busiest intersections, and there was no way out of the city's limits without going through a guard post. All of the smiths and artisans were now contracted to produce goods for Visigoth's ranks, whether it be swords, catapults or potions. Technically, it wasn't slavery, but there wasn't much of any other choice.

Today, Decree 342, or the Foreign Mobilization Decree, was being enforced; the military was obligated to draft new citizens in occupied territories into the ranks. Azurians were lined up for almost half a mile around the city's square, as tents and kiosks were set up to assimilate its next victims into the vast numbers that constituted Visigoth's army. Some groups of citizens in the line were chained and bound together, all of them captured soldiers.

Above the steps leading to Azurei's consulate building which had once governed the nation autonomously, one of its district executives was strung up, her clothes covered in her own blood. The inner flesh and veins of her neck was exposed, the trachea being ripped out it seemed.

"Ugh," an Azurian captive in line grunted, observing the displayed corpse, "it's shameful how they have Executor Fesna hung like-"

A Visigoth soldier abruptly dug the hilt of his sword into the captive's side.

"Keep your attention forward!" the swordsman commanded, "and stand straight." The soldier put his hand on the prisoner's shoulder and brought the captive to a rigid stand.


That scream. That terrified, helpless, begging scream.

Talmar wandered the city. He had sent his men out to their duties across the city and for the time being had nothing to do. But the scent of alcohol that followed him suggested at what he did to fill the time. The captain observed the omnipresent lull. In every city he had conquered and ever village he tramped through, it was always quiet after the battle. And on the trail to the next battle the soldiers were too busy trying to keep their energy up to march the next ten miles with full gear to really talk. Whatever life was supposed to be like, he destroyed it time and again.

A boy and his mother stopped at the side of the road, looking at Talmar as he passed. The drunkenly dazed, out of uniform officer dragged his oversized sword along. The mother pierced into whatever soul the man had left with a contemptuous stare. But that look seemed too familiar to Talmar; everywhere he went, someone's mother lost a son, or a husband, or even a father, or all three. He tried not to think about it.

Proceeding a bit further down the street, the captain happened upon the city square. It was bustling with soldiers and soon to be soldiers. Looking at the groups of captive Azurian fighters just had him ever so hopeful for dealing with the replacements in his unit. The men in his unit were replaced faster than the water in his flask. How empty the whole ordeal was.

While he walked by a section of the line, a discontented citizen found the will to spit onto Talmar's bare chest. His look bored into the young man's face. The captain grabbed the man's shoulder and pinched into the base of his victim's neck. He used the stunning pain coupled with the force of his hand to bring the man to his knees, holding him there for a moment while everyone watched.

"What are you gonna do? I'm not scared of you!" the Azurian yelled. Talmar used his ironclad boot to pull the man's bent leg straight, at which point he stomped as hard as he could into the man's thigh. Spectators cringed as they herd the cracking of the femur between the foot and the ground, and the man let out of shrilly scream. The officer looked over to a nearby soldier.

"You," he pointed, "take this man to a healer. He had a bad fall."

"Yes sir," the soldier saluted to the captain, his face almost stricken with panic, lest he too get on the captain's bad side. He waved over another soldier to help drag the screaming man away from the line and off to wherever the healers were.

Walking away from the noisy chaos he caused behind him, he looked up to the staircase he was about to climb. His eyes fell upon the body of the councilwoman.


Talmar clenched his fist and stared at it, lost in his own thoughts and memories. That body hung not only as a symbol to oppress the Azurian people and culture but also to remind him of his place. He looked to his sword and then at the chains that held the corpse up by the arms. Perhaps he had just enough alcohol in his system to will himself to do this.

Walking over to the pillar the decomposing body was tied down to, Talmar readied his mass of a sword. Raising it with both hands, he swung down powerfully to break the chains. Behind him, the corpse fell with a thud. Not caring to find out what the consequences were, he retreated inside to where maybe he could find a bed to sleep.


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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Inside the capitol building was an oasis of opulence compared to the dry, red-sand world outside of it, where everything was sunbleached and dusty and faded. Inside was a riot of different shades of blue--some of it glass, some of it lapis lazuli, and some of the color came from carefully maintained paint that coiled around the central pillars like ivy in some pattern known only to the Azurei. It had once been the home of Amaiera-Sol, of Azurei's revered matriarch. It often housed the councilwomen too, when they were around. One of them was now crumpled on the white marble steps--Khaltira Fesna of the Atakhara district. She'd always been a bold woman and her Taja were stout, sharp men unflaggingly loyal to her and the Sota-Sol above her, so naturally, she did not shy away from standing her ground when the capitol was attacked. She had died with the comfort of knowing her Sota-Sol Amiera was able to flee with her own Taja to protect her. But that hope was a false one, as the Azurei matriarch was tracked and cut down several hours later--her and every single one of her Taja.

The central room was looming, especially in the context of the low-roofed common dwellings of Azurei, which were built of red clay brick and deft hands, not carved marble and basalt blocks. For one thing, the building showed that Azurei as a nation was proud of her colors--rich indigo, silvery white, and an endless inky black. The trio of hues were everywhere inside the building with blue being the most dominant color. The air was cool inside, too. Cool, sweet, and tinged faintly with the delicate aroma of orange oil and woodsmoke. On the wall opposite the door was a chair, hardly anything more than a bench carved into the dark stone wall, but it was made with such care and love that in its simplicity it was still a beautiful thing. A simple fountain flowed like a manmade stream across the foot of it, burbling softly even still. To the left and right were many doors, each leading to halls, stairways, and rooms of many sorts including libraries full of leather scrolls, entire spaces dedicated to very involved murals depicting great warriors or powerful deities, baths, and an oddly empty room filled only with thick blue rugs piled in the center. The air in that room smelled heavily of a pungent, bitter herb, almond oil, and what could only be some kind of alcohol.

But despite the building's opulence, everything was empty. Hollow. Like the entire world had suddenly stopped one day. The entire building was unfriendly and looming, a still shadow of the power that once resided there.


Ridahne had struggled to not get caught. She kept to the dust-sea mostly, holed up in a burrow she made for herself hidden by tightly packed mud and clay and camouflaged by ever-shifting red sand. She kept very few possessions and it helped immensely that nobody, not even the invaders were keen on traipsing out into the dust-sea without absolute need. There were other ways to the mountains--more circuitous routes that were largely more passable due to better traveling conditions and unchanging landmarks. But eventually even she was rounded up by the invaders, who she did not like in the least bit. Still, she gave them all kinds of trouble in subversive, quiet ways. She wasn't immune to a harsh snarl and a few unkind words spoken in fast, jagged Azurian, but she preferred sneaking away equally as much. Someone somewhere must have had an idea of her former training, because she had yet to lose a limb for it. Somebody must have thought she was useful whole, and Ridahne would play that up for as long as she could. Either that, or the leaders of this new force did not yet learn that Azurei's women were more often soldiers and warriors than men. After all, it was common for other cultures to see women as people who did not fight. She didn't know. Either way, Ridahne would find every loophole she could.

She'd wandered back into the capitol building today in search of some kind of artifact, heirloom, or piece of art that was sacred to the Azurei culture--something she could save from the savages that invaded her home and keep safe until the nation found enough strength to rise up and become sovereign again. To become whole. Ridahne made it to the side of the landing at the top of the steps, somewhat concealed by a curved, painted pillar when one of them stomped up the steps like some ignorant, staggering thug and, facing Khaltira Fesna, her Sota, he raised his sword unceremoniously and--

Ridahne bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. She was no stranger to gore, but she was angry and part of her feared that he would be spiteful and cut her face. Khaltira's spirit was gone from her body now, but the disrespect of such an action would have been too much for any Azurei to bear. But no. Her tattooed face was left unmarred by his blade and instead she was cut down. The man disappeared inside and she felt the eyes of all her kin looking on. Watching.

She could bear it no longer. Ridahne dashed out from her shadowy place and scooped up Khaltira's arms, dragging her inside. Her kin watched. Silently. Inside was blessedly cool but Ridahne could feel her hands shaking already as she brought the ruined body to the center of the main room and arranged her there on the floor as if she had laid down to die herself--peaceful and graceful despite her gory wound. The tall, slim woman knelt beside her leader, dark hair kept out of her face by a rough knot of hair she tied behind her head. Her russet face was intricately tattooed in black, blue, and white and maintained with much care, unlike her clothes. She wore no shoes (Ridahne always hated them) and a very purposefully wrapped sarong-like garment that was not uncommon among women, and even men, though theirs were of a slightly different style and shape. She had a fitted half-shirt on that just covered her chest and upper back, but her skin was dusty. She also wore a thin leather harness of sorts that strapped a large, slightly curved knife to the curve of her lower back. With tears in her eyes, she began speaking softly over the body in Azurian with a ritual air about her. But she did not sob. No, Ridahne was not the type.


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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Outside, a man covered in a black hooded robe and nearly seven feet tall stalked Talmar. A hooked blade of a ram dao stuck out from the mysterious man's sleeve, the hilt covered entirely. He watched from a distance at the captain's dissent, the breaking of the chains followed by his sheepish retreat into the capitol building. The man made a cautious approach to follow the officer but stopped in his tracks to watch someone carry the formerly strung matriarch's body inside. The fact that the two went in the same direction was interesting; perhaps they had colluded in something.

Watching the Azurian woman drag the body inside, and the man rolled his shoulder, eager for the eminent confrontation. As she went out of sight, the man hurried up the steps in pursuit. He stopped, hiding from her at the entrance of the building. The man, a Khadryan, could sense her traveling to the central chamber of the building. Picking the opportune moment to creep in, he sneaked to the cover of a stone that had fallen from the ceiling in the bout some days ago. He could sense the woman mumbling something, but more importantly, he could feel the running water of the fountain. How easy this would be.

The water began to move unnaturally; it pooled up on the stone before the man stepped out from his cover. His arm raised in line with the woman's neck and the water followed his command. The water became a harsh shackle around the woman's neck, and dragged her to the front of the robed man. The man looked to his victim, who now sat on her knees with the water grip clamped on her neck.

Killing her was not part of the equation, yet, anyways. He needed information, and then he could figure out what to do with her.

In the characteristically sadistic way of a Khadryan, the man placed the hook of his ram dao around the woman's neck, the width of the blade resting on her shoulder. She could see now the azure ring around his eye and the glowing blood vessels on the side of his face. He was completely bald, with no facial hair either, and as pale as could be.

The ring of water dropped and soaked into Ridahne's clothes. He studied her body and face silently before he finally opened his mouth to say something.

"What were you doing with that body?" he asked, in a surprisingly delicate voice. Clearly, he enjoyed the terrifying nature of his interaction with her.

Talmar had stumbled over to a row of cots in the library connected to the main chamber. He let his sword drop to the ground next to the nearest cot and leaned his head against the book case next to him. His head was pounding from the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact he only got a few hours of sleep per night. Either way.

He closed his eyes, sensing his environment. Everything was still; the soldiers were either out and about or sleeping. The sense of the running water was rather relaxing. He reached further and further out with his mind until he tensed. Someone, some woman that was, had brought the mutilated body back into the capitol building. He shook it off; it was none of his business. Until he felt the water become choppy, and move erratically. And he could only think of one reason why that was.

Picking up his sword, he stepped out through the door and into the open setting of the central chamber. He saw a member of the Provenance Guard, the woman on her knees with the Guard's blade at her neck, and mutilated body in the middle of the chamber. The captain studied the situation for a moment before he decided what he wanted to do.

"Chrolus!" Talmar shouted. "What do you want?"


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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Ridahne was a sharp woman. She grew up quite poor and often had to hunt just to eat, and she gained an aptitude for it more so than her brother Hadian, whom was fortunately out at sea. But she had trained herself to be attentive when searching for game, listening for every shuffle of sand, every soft patter of a paw or hoof or claw, and the beats of wings in the air. Not to mention she had extensive training in the art of stealthy combat, or avoiding being seen. Even so, she was too distraught by seeing her Khaltira-Sol so maimed and decomposing to notice the soft padding of feet or the rustle of water as it sprang from the fountain like a tentacle and coiled around her neck with a force she had never known to belong to water. Water was powerful but it was changing and fluid, unlike stone. This manacle around her neck felt very much like wet stone, hard and unyielding. Her honey eyes flicked up to the invader, standing victoriously over her like he'd won some kind of duel. She saw the pleased look on his face, a cruel expression, and snarled fiercely. She did not grovel. She did not quail or shout or cry, nor did she beg. Tears still in her eyes, now turning from the salty drops of mourning to liquid fire, she held the man's gaze evenly, practically daring him to do anything to her. There was no fear in her, either. If he was going to kill her, then she would die. She would die quietly and proud. If he was going to hurt her, she knew she'd had worse. If he had other plans for her...well...she would make it very unpleasant.

He released her though, to her surprise. Now dripping wet, Ridahne did not make any move to back away, escape, or flinch. Instead she held her ground, snarling up at him with an intensity only matched by a beaten dog coming for her revenge. He asked what she was going to do with the body--as if that was any of his business! Hah! She would not offer up the practices and customs of her culture to this ur'khei, this outsider, not after what they'd done. These men could kill her people, they could take their homes and land and livestock and silver, but they would not take her culture. They would. Not.

Ridahne spat at his feet as easily and as fast as saying hello. With a defiant smile, she began speaking her own language at him. It wasn't clear what she was saying, but her face said enough; contempt, defiance, spite. She spoke the Northern tongue next, the common speech that was widely known throughout the north and even through parts of the south. "I do as custom demands," she said coldly and cryptically. No details for him, ohh no.

The first outsider, the one who cut down her Sota, re entered the great hall again, calling out to the man by name. Ridahne snarled at them both, kneeling over the purple-white body of her leader like a dog defending her litter. "Get out, ur'khei. Both of you. Leave the dead until she is dust in the air," she hissed, full of spite and venom and fire.


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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Chrolus watched the woman as she moved away from his blade unfearfully; she seemed to not care of the consequence. Such an insubordination didn't belong in Azurei anymore, in his view. He listened as she spouted things in her native tongue, and then only grew bored as she put herself between one of her fallen leaders and her conquerors.

"You peasants are all the same. So caught up in the meaningless nuances of whatever 'culture demands.' Your culture is weak, woman. And we have no use for feeble peasants clinging to decrepit traditions," Chrolus lectured. He took some steps backwards and flipped out the whole of his sword from his sleeve so that the hilt wouldn't get caught in the wide cuff of his robe.

Talmar watched the theatrical display put in by Chrolus; so much was wrong with this. The Guard was toying with him and the woman, for no reason other than the fact that Chrolus was bored. The captain had come closer to look at the body of the matriarch he executed, wondering what Chrolus wanted to be done with the rotting corpse.

"Now begone with you!" Chrolus cast his sword wide in a wind up before swinging across the ground so the blade would swoop up into the neck of his next Azurian kill.

"Ragh!" Talmar had raised his sword and swung downward with all his might to create a wall between Chrolus' blade and Ridahne. Chrolus glared at the captain, and Talmar gazed back.

"I've killed enough people in this room. We don't need to add to the body count," Talmar declared.

All of the runoff from the fountain lifted from the ground, and speed in a circle around the perimeter of the room before closing in one large circle on the chamber's three occupants.

Chrolus still gleamed at the captain with his preys now trapped. Was Talmar doing this out of spite or had he really meant those words? Oh, how well any Khadryan could put on a show.

"Do you even know how many drinks you had today, captain?" Chrolus asked, to which his question was met with silence. "The correct answer is eleven, and it's hardly after lunch. That's a new low for you." Chrolus' words sunk in, but what affect they had on Talmar didn't seem to be discernible.

"Your... superiors are quite agitated with the continuous insubordination and overall belligerence, Talmar. Soon they will have no patience left for it," the Guard spat at the officer.

There was a tension that lingered in the air, with the two Khadryan warriors staring each other down. Most men would have been terrified by Chrolus' towering figure deformed by the Khadryan Eye. Soon enough, Chrolus powered through the locking of sword, pushing Talmar's blade up far into the air. The captain staggered back, still in an alcohol induced daze before he found the Guard's edge expertly rushed to his hip without cutting him. Chrolus looked to Ridahne, then back to Talmar.

"I have an idea," Chrolus announced. His sword began to move across Talmar's body, who stood still, not daring to tempt Chrolus for the worst. The Guard was carving a shallow cut across the stomach and chest of Talmar's body as he went on with whatever his "idea" was. "You," he said, looking to Ridahne, "are going to join Captain Talmar's unit. Which, I'll mind you, has had the highest casualty rate of any Visigothian unit since it's creation. And the first order you have, which goes for you too," Chrolus emphasized, as the circling dart of water struck into Talmar's side. The water splashed and rebounded into a floating ball of water as Talmar fell to the ground next to Ridahne. "You both will take the matriarch's shell of a being and tie it back up where it belongs. Is that clear?"


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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Peasant wasn't really much of an insult to Ridahne, for she truly was one and always had been. Atakhara was not a rich district by any means and the Torzinei clan was even less so. But she was rather affronted by the comment that Azurei's culture was weak, and almost as much by the remark about her being feeble. Hah! He did not know who he was speaking to! She was an Eija Ait'situri, a trained military warrior specializing in stealth, silence, and absolute control of her sword. She lacked the brute strength of the Khadrian, but she thought her own moves were far more elegant, graceful, and artful.

"Azurei is strong. Azurei is the sand in the wind and the waves of the sea. Azurei is fire and stone. Azurei is not dead. Though our bodies may go, Azurei will never die." She was resolute in this and spoke with all the certainty of a hunter reading fresh tracks in soft ground. And part of her, mostly in her eyes, dared him to try and refute it. "Do what you like. We will endure." She was daring him to kill her. She did not care anymore. Not that she didn't want to live or didn't care about life, for she did. But she had done enough worrying about survival for her lifetime and had seen enough violence to not be frightened by it. Indeed, as she saw the man's sword arm tensing, she braced herself for death quite calmly. But...there was no cold steel on her neck, nor pain, nor oblivion. Instead, the man she had followed inside intervened and the two crossed swords briefly.

Ridahne wasn't certain why he did that. She didn't care too much, though she was glad she was still alive. Still, she made no move to leave, even as the ring of water swirled around her like a sentient being. Ridahne had learned these invaders had some command over elements, though each one was different. She found this somewhat disgusting, or maybe just naive--Nature and her elements could not be mastered. Tamed, maybe, but not mastered.

The skirmish between the two ended and the cloaked one clearly won. Did she smell alcohol faintly? The cloaked one informed them both that she was supposed to join his unit. Her! Join their military! Ridahne almost laughed at the idea--she'd sooner die than betray her Azurei, especially not to these uncultured brutes. Besides, she did not like taking orders from those she did not respect ,and she had none for this man. None at all. She snarled at him, and then at Talmar, clearly not liking either of them.
In her native Azurian, she said what translated to, "Good luck with that." Her language was her one small joy--they did not know it and it was a difficult language to learn, especially considering that it was not normal to teach it to an outsider. She could use it to say anything she wanted to without them knowing, or could communicate secretly with her own kin.

She was 'ordered' to put the body back where it had been hung like a macabre flag, but Ridahne did not respond. She would wait until he left, and then take full advantage of the fact that this other man, Talmar apparently, seemed to be quite drunk. He seemed strong, but in his state she guessed she might best him with speed and agility, of which she had plenty. "I take no orders from you," she growled, still crouching over the body like it was treasure and she a pirate. To Talmar, she spat, and quite angrily. It did not matter to her that he had essentially saved her life--he could have had a million reasons for doing that and none of them had to do with him being good. No, she didn't trust him and would exploit his drunkenness as soon as she had a reasonable chance. She spat at Chorlus too, for good measure.

"Here my Sota will stay," she snarled.


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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The two Khadryans heard the words the Azurian spoke, but to either her rabble meant near to nothing. To Chrolus, a misguided peasant did as a misguided peasant does. To Talmar, the end result on following Ridahne's rebellious path led to defeat, something the Azurian woman seemed to not understand.

"Oh, will she?" Chrolus openly touted, turning his back from the captain and Ridahne. "Hop to it; I don't want to bring a fourth party into this."

The Guard took his leave, Talmar and Ridahne now left in the silence of each other's presence, for now anyways. The captain pushed his groggy self to his feet. Blood dripped down the front of his body as he picked up his sword, dragging the blade along as he stood before the matriarch's corpse. He looked down to it, then to Ridahne.

"If this doesn't happen, at least one of us will die," he told her. "And then perhaps both our bodies are strung up as examples of dissenting, as an Azurian and as a Visigothian soldier. If you want to be killed in a pointless and anticlimactic bout against Chrolus, then you'll stop me or run away from here. And if you have any sense of pragmatism," he began to say, in a lower voice, "you'll wait for your opening." Talmar dropped his sword and began wandering over to the fountain. A good drink of water would do good right now.

"You see, now it's personal between you and Chrolus, and he's not going to let this go. This hanging body is important to the image your current 'Divine Lord' wants to project," he explained to Ridahne, not paying attention to where she was, for he didn't care, and that was most likely because he was drunk. "In fact, if he is going to kill you, I'm going to take a guess as to how you're going to die."

Talmar finally reached the water fountain, cupped his hands and washes his face. He propped his chest up with his arms on the stone wall of the fountain, staring into the rippling water.

"After you're subdued, in whatever meaningless manner you prefer to go out in, a ring of water, like the one what was around your throat, will grip your entire rib cage. And slowly and surely, the ring will get tighter and tighter, like a snake clamping down on its prey," the captain drawled along in his drunken state. "You'll feel the tightness as the air is forced out of your lungs, you're unable to breathe, and the bones in your body feel more and more stressed. Until eventually, one gives way and cracks, then the next, and your entire sternum collapses into your organs. It'll perhaps be the most painful thing you've ever endured in your life, and for what? That's the question you'll be asking yourself in the moments of your death. And your single and isolated outcry will be made an example of, perhaps publicly, for all to fear. It won't be honorable, nor glorious. It will be ugly and horrifying."

Talmar took a long drink after his monologue. It was time to get up and do, so he stood up to face what was inevitable, putting the body back up.


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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth Character Portrait: Ridahne Torzinei
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There was a long moment of silence before anything happened. The only thing to interrupt the silence was the ebbing of water from the fountain. Talmar took the moment to consider what would happen to his body after he died. Perhaps Chrolus and the rest of his "superiors" would have enough respect to lay him to rest properly. Maybe, there would be no remains at all as he went out in an explosive blaze. Or maybe the vessel that carried his life would be forgotten altogether.

Whatever it was, it didn't really matter, Talmar concluded. He took a step off to the side to plant the end of his sword into an exposed section of dirt in the floor where stone had been blasted away. He then slugged towards the corpse of the matriarch, ready to do as Chrolus bid once more. It didn't take him much effort to shoulder the rotting body and turn back to collect his sword.

"Let's get this over with," Talmar said dully.

Groggily, he collected his sword and dragged it on the ground as he headed for the door of the chamber. As he got tot he exit, he stumbled and leaned his unoccupied shoulder into the frame of the large doorway. He stayed there for a moment as his vision steadied, the alcohol starting to really mess with his coordination.

"I'm gonna need help tying this up," he said rather openly, and with a rather ashamed tone. The captain eventually brought himself upright and walked further onto the landing of the large staircase that led to the capitol building of Azurei. Walking over to a tethered chain, he rested Khaltira Fesna's body on the stone floor and took a seat beside them, unable to stand for much longer without rest. He looked out towards the camp that was set up int he city's center, and the hustle and bustle that was conscription.

"How did you manage getting away from the rest of the pawns?" Talmar asked.