Taasi's Story

Taasi had initially entered the area under guard, and the assumption that she would never escape the armed escort dragging her along to her prison cell - so very far from her home lands. That had been how her people had taken care of the criminal classes for centuries; exiling them, dragging them to the farthest reaches of the known world and further beyond, then leaving them there where they were sufficiently out of sight and mind. Someone else's problem.

But this time it hadn't gone as plan. Criminals, thugs and scavengers had attacked the guards and even with her bound hands, the red-haired Taasi had still been able to climb through the rubble and escape.

That's what she had been doing for the last several hours, her wrists sore and the rope seeming to get ever tighter as at last she came upon the scavenging Pip. Though cautious, she was also desperate; she needed food, rest and water and the least he could do to help her was untie the damn ropes.

"Help!" She called out, half-way between a beg and an order as she held out her wrists. Aside from her rather natty binds, Taasi also wore the thick clothing the 'authorities' had given her - made of a thick fur like substance woven from trees. At least they hadn't condemned her to freeze to death.

"Yes - yes, I know," the woman complained, listening to the man as he expressed some sort of disapproval at her presence. No matter, it couldn't be helped - she had to get him to untie her, if only for the freedom to feel the breeze against her sore wrists.

But then she asked about the binds, and she had no idea what to say. What if he simply put her under citizen arrest, or worse - kidnapped her and sold her into slavery? Perhaps the first option could be avoided with a little lying...

"I... It was a joke that got out of hand, is all. I'm sure you'd rather not hear about the escapades I have with my male friends. Look, can you untie me already?"

She edged closer as she asked, her arms held out as far as she could stretch them and her hands as far apart as she could bear so enough of the rope was showing for an easy job. Still, the way she did it was clearly defensive. It was as though every muscle in her body was prepared to dart her backwards at even the slightest sign or possibility that he would try to grab her instead. Or even worse, cut her.

"Ehm. Thank you."

She might have thanked him a little too early, but if it would help the procedure go smoothly...

"You can call me Taasi'la Nes'Korah."

"Well I have been walking and jogging for hours, so I'm already quite dusty. These clothes do a good job of hiding it all, I guess. I bet if I started to pat myself down a cloud would form."

She carefully held her wrists, sighing in what seemed to be pleasure from a long related release. Oh, it felt good when sore, tender skin finally touched the fresh air. The binds hadn't hurt her so much as irritated beyond belief and finally getting to deal with it was bliss.

"Thanks, again," she told the scavenger, before rubbing at dry eyes.

"I swear to God I'll slap you in the fucking nuts you little bitch," a red-haired woman with pointed knife-ears and the tall, pale grace of an Elf said to a huge, murky green man built out of solid muscle who stood almost seven foot tall and had a face that could scare children.

Grr Mada seemed like he wanted to tear Taasi's spine out, but couldn't do that because he knew that if he tried, she'd probably bite his fingers off. "Stupid red woman. Go eat feces. Get pregnant many times and die in birth!" He growled, with a voice like two bricks rubbing together to make a screamo song.

"Lean to speak English properly you fucking frog," Taasi replied, ignoring the huge axe he could easily swing at her as she moved over to the counter and suddenly dropped her stern look for that of a sweet, happy woman specifically so she didn't scare off the bartender. "Hello, good Sir. I would like a strong wine and my companion here would like a glass of fresh diarrhea."

"Is what diarhee?" Grr Mada replied, with narrowed brows. "Stupid girly elf with puny mind."

Mischief was being loud today. Annoyingly so.
She’d been snickering along to his every musing since he woke up.
To this thought, she tutted. If I’m so loud and annoying, why don’t you turn me down? I am you, after all. A cheeky chuckle.
Tim tried his best to ignore her, but Mischief got to him sometimes. She could be quite amusing, especially when she’d make fun of people he was speaking to by being so blunt (usually on comments about their appearance) that he could be brought to tears at their own private jokes. Well… his own private jokes.

Today, she was being aggravating by blowing raspberries every time he touched something. A doorknob, his spectacles, buttons. It was like a four year old was observing his thoughts and taking actions which they apparently thought were oh so appropriate. They were oh so not. And now, she’d let out a particularly vigorous one as he pushed open the door to Gambit’s Bar. So far today, Mischief had only had Tim to torment and mock. But now it was probably set to get a lot worse now that new faces were to be introduced to his little day trip. ‘You can’t let them rule you, Tim’ his therapist, a fat woman with an awfully distracting mole on the side of her nose had told him time and time again. ‘They’re just voices. And they belong to you. You control them, you just need to learn how to do it consciously.’

Tim screwed up his nose at the memory and stalked a bit too grumpily towards the counter.
Fee-fi-fo-fat! Miscief accompanied as he did so.
He glanced sideways at another patron who was waiting to order; an ominous looking fellow with a gas mask. Tim shifted, a little uncomfortable.
Ask him if he inhaled too many of his own farts. Go on. Do it. Mischief cackled as Tim forced himself to smile at the stranger. Do it. Do it.
You a chicken? Suddenly, the noises of various clucks and gobbles and squawks of birds erupted in his head.

“STOP IT!” He squealed over the top of an argument which had broken out nearby. He noticed it only vaguely as he clamped his hands over his ears (raspberries now joined the bird calls) trying to be rid of the cacophony which he knew was all in his mind.

Harris looked up from his place in the back of the bar as the screaming reached a crescendo. He would survey the scene for a second or two. It appeared to be the usual ruckus of fighting but his eyes scanned over Tim. The man looked to be in distress as if his ears were plagued by sirens.

Standing up and abandoning his pack and violin case he would cross the room swiftly and approach the young man. "Are you alright?" He would ask in a somewhat soothing tone.

Face perking at the bartender's joke, the rat pulls in the bill, leaning in close to read the writing.
"Aye, that's quite a load," it mumbles, reaching into the canopy of its umbrella hat.
"At least you're here now.
Gotta look to the future with bright eyes, as they say, else you'll turn into a blind lemming."
It gives a cursory glance to the other man as he's mentioned, before pulling out a closed fist and dropping a few copper coins, alongside a couple of birch eye beads.
"I...hope this will cover it," it says, now with the thinly laid smile more akin to the lip-stretching of a human.
It tosses a sapphire nazar amulet on the countertop, nodding to it as a tip for him.
"Thanks fer being my server."
Slowly, it is standing back up, a little bit wobbly on its feet, but none the worse for the wear -- not much yet anyhow...it is likely to be later rather than sooner that it will crash into a dead sleep or a drunken stupor.
The rat sighs, passing a hand over its face.

"Better get back to the ship before the rest of the crew does.
Can't let the blasted thing tip over just 'cause th--"
the loud entrance of several strangers sends the rat's fur on end, jumping high into the air, landing on all fours, and then scurrying off in a not-very-civilized (not to mention brave) manner.
A single kicked-down barstool is all that's left in the wake of its flight.

Nyks glanced around at the sudden commotion. He usually reserved himself to fairly quiet places, and the area had suddenly become louder than he was comfortable with. Still, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He noted everyone in the bar and decided to stand back until his help was necessary. No need to jump into a situation before it becomes a problem. Carefully watching the room, he took another sip of his drink, eyes and mind still moving.

As John waited for a bartender to appear, another being had appeared, choosing a place at the counter next to him. This guy seemed a bit... Nervous? No.. What's the word again? Ah, it doesn't matter. This person was obviously a bit scared, don't blame him. He's located near a dead guy with a massive scythe and chains around his feet, John must look like a convict or something.

"Where is this bartender?" John mumbled to himself under the heavy breathing of his gasmask.
Suddenly, the strange person somehow broke down or something... Shouting "STOP IT!" as he covered his ears. Why? Was it John? Does this guy have sensitive ears and John's breathing is like an air horn being blown into his ears? Hm, that reminds me of a certain person... John thought to himself.

"Wha-" Before John could even ask, another person appeared, comforting the strange being. Ah well, might as well turn back and wait for the bartender, the problem is already being dealt with.
The falling of a barstool did grab some attention, but it was seen that it was caused by some scared thing, nothing important... Just wait... Think...
"Vladamir Rostovii..." John spoke to himself, loud enough for other's to hear over his breathing. Of course this would be the first thing to pop up, John's goal is to find the body of this being. He knew this person personally as a legendary super soldier of the Payemyndii Clan. All he could find is that this being died on Terra not long ago, the body would be perfect to add to the army or even to replace this current body which was obviously far out of date.

Maybe someone here knows of this guy, bars are the best place to find information from simple gossip and rumours, a location would be perfect.

The cawing, clucking, chirping and squawking began to fade, and within a few seconds after his yell, disappeared completely to be replaced by Mischief’s gleeful laughter.
“Are you alright?” someone had asked, but Tim was too distracted to hear. He shook his head from side to side as if trying to send away a fly which was buzzing around his face. Lowering his hands from his ears, he looked to the man, Harris. His eyes were wide, startled. Then he flushed.

Mischief had caught the direction from which the man had come and ‘ooohed’ when her attention settled on the violin case. As Tim looked up at the person, Mischief began crooning.
Violin. Geddit. Geddit. Make him play you a love song theeeeeeen, kiss him! It’ll be fun.
“Headache” Tim lied, assuming the man had approached due to his odd, embarrassing behaviour. A reasonable enough excuse. “Really drives me mad sometimes.”
Or hit him round the head with it.
“Really…” His voice had become dreamy, removed.
Pssh.

Gas mask guy is staring at your behind, his companion told him, she sounded like she was biting back laughter but Tim still yelped and positioned himself with a start so that his back was no longer to the ominous fellow he'd observed earlier.

Nyks watched the room silently, taking a sip of his drink and resting his hand, relaxed, on the hilt of his longsword strapped to his belt. He felt like he was missing something. He hated that feeling. It either meant he was paranoid or there was something right in front of his face that he should be seeing but didn't. Either way, it wasn't good for him.

Zekil waves good by to the rat as he hears someone asking for a server as he walks over to him, "May I help you?" he asks as he offers him a friendly smile however he seems...a bit on edge by something. He shakes it off quickly, if a fight broke out he could always teleport away. "If anyone needs a drink, shout em if I am not near ya, I have good ears." he says as he points to his pointed ears with a cheerful grin.

John turned away to ignore the strange child, it seemed like an effort to deal with. He has more important things to deal with of course, like finding that damned body.
And that's when a server had appeared, some strange being with pointed ears and wings. Ah, a demon, such a majestic being. But not really something a necromancer would look up to.
"Ah yes, any drink would do me. Thanks." John spoke to the demon, smiling back. Although that was pretty useless due to the damned gas mask.
"Ah yeah, there's some things I would like to know. Something which should be some rumours or something."