Kayn is a very muscular, lithe 5'8'' woman. She has bronze-tan, weathered skin that is marked liberally with pale scars, and she has very curly burgundy hair. Her bright blue eyes are her most striking feature, and between her eyes, her hair, and her figure, she attracted quite a few young men to come courting when she was a girl in her home village. Since those days in her youth, however, her face has almost entirely lost its range of expression. Few who know her now have ever seen her smile or frown, and it is nearly impossible to guess what she is feeling at any given moment from either her face, her body language, or her voice. Granted, she is quite likely to simply tell you if you have made her angry or pleased. The expression her face seems locked in these days is a sort of relaxed neutral, which people often find disconcerting when she is beating the stuffing out of them in a bar brawl.
She generally wears a combination of gray and brown clothing, and she rarely goes anywhere without her bow, a quiver of arrows, and at least one dagger. Of course, when she has a gig at a tavern or pub (she is attempting to make a name for herself as a lounge singer), she wears a gem-green, close-fitting dress she bought secondhand from the costume sale of a traveling theatre troupe at the Fair Friars Fair a few years back (it happens to be the only dress she owns). Even with the dress, though, she accessorizes with her weapons of choice.
She is currently 33 years of age, but very few people can place her age by looking at her.
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Kayn Bowyer
Kayn is a scarred and hardened soldier, and she looks the part. The scars are strong and pale against her weathered skin. She has striking, thoughtful blue eyes and goes nowhere without her bow, arrows, and dagger.
0 · 258 views · located in 
The Duke's Drake Inn and Pub
a character in “The Song of Sheathed Swords and Scarred Souls”, as played by DokodemoElisa
Description
Personality
Kayn comes across as a calm, stoic, laid-back sort of person, and she usually genuinely is. On the other hand, when she is angry, she is likely to cause the object of her anger physical harm, and this tendency has gotten her banished from two villages, one county, and three pubs in the past five years alone. Generally, though, she is a deeply loyal friend, and she is quick to count someone a friend. She is dependable, willing to lend a hand, and willing to take an arrow for even a person she does not specially like. She was very well loved by the soldiers serving under her when she was a lieutenant, and she was the indispensable right-hand of the captain of her unit. She is equally willing to be a leader or a follower, as a situation dictates, and she is equally good with long-term planning and quick-thinking improvisation.
Equipment
1 simple elm longbow (It's a Welsh Longbow, but in Narain, the same style is known as an Iver Bow)
7 silk bowstrings
1 leather quiver
20+ arrows
1 pair of boots that are nearly worn through
10 feet of hemp rope
3 daggers (simple and unadorned, but well made)
1 bedroll
1 sewing kit
1 small frying pan
1 tin kettle
half a pound of loose black tea
about two days worth of travel rations
2 flint stones (for fire starting purposes)
1 tinderbox of charred linen
1 complete military uniform with lieutenant insignia (bloodstained, heavily worn with two poorly repaired sword cuts)
4 complete sets of underwear a-la the 16th century
2 pairs of soft leather trousers
1 pair of linen trousers
1 simple, hand-woven stuff skirt
5 shirts
1 studded, lace-up leather bodice/vest (reasonably good armor)
7 pairs of wool socks
1 pair of elbow-length leather archer gloves
1 jewel green dress
1 pair of functionally useless but quite pretty sandal slippers
1 simple felt hat
1 large cake of soap
1 small cake of laundry soap
five licorice twigs (for enjoyment and oral hygiene both)
1 wide-toothed ebony comb
1 roll of clean bandages
1 full waterskin
1 small, mostly empty spirit flask
1 sturdy leather and linen bag in which to carry most of this (heavily mended, but in reasonably good shape)
About enough money to purchase two meals and one night's stay at a cheap inn
History
Kayn is originally from the village of Gelrik on Heath in the Incorporated Republican County of Hewer in central Yerrik. She grew up with a very pious mother who was half Kreissish and half Irian and a functionally agnostic Yerrikan Father. As a result, she knows a great deal about religious doctrine, but never bothered to decide whether she really believes it all. She also grew up with her Irian grandmother in residence, so she grew up listening to a hundred Irian stories of imps, faeries, sprites, and witches, and she was encouraged from a young age to leave a daub of blood on every windowsill and a saucer of fresh milk on the mantle. Of course, it has been a very long time since she lived anywhere with either a windowsill or a mantle to speak of, and she has long since stopped believing in Faerie tales.
Both of her parents were accomplished bowyers who trained under her Yerrikan grandmother (who, incidentally, died years before Kayn was born). Kayn's mother's apprenticeship led to her marriage to Kayn's father (had she not had this opportunity to study with a master bowyer in Yerrik, she never would have left the mountains of Kreiss, and they would never have met. Granted, she would not have known of said master bowyer's existence if said bowyer had not been a boarding school friend of her Irian mother). Basically, Kayn grew up in a bow workshop, and she knows a great deal about bow making for a person with no talent whatsoever in that direction. She can spot a well made bow a mile away, but she cannot make one to save her life. Not unnaturally, though she was an only child, she grew up with her parents' apprentices (Adan and Sauldrik, both boys approximately her own age) who may as well have been her brothers, for better or for worse. They certainly fought like siblings, but they looked out for one another as well. Of all of those Kayn considers family, only Adan and Sauldrik are living, and they are both still living in Gelrik on Heath, minding the old bow shop. Sauldrik is now a married father of three girls, one of whom is currently Adan's apprentice. Kayn would like to think of the girls as her nieces, and she likes to send them presents on the solstice holidays when she has enough money to do so, but she doesn't know any of them very well. She only ever "goes home," as it were, when she needs her bow repaired or replaced.
Kayn was loosely educated at the village's "basic school," where she learned a bit of history, a bit of basic religion, a smattering of government theory, simple math, and how to read and write Yerrikan standard (which is very similar to Bailener standard and East Kreissish). The tutors tried and failed to teach her to read High Kreissish, but she does remember a couple of interesting quotes she can use to make her sound smart and sophisticated when occasion demands. Most of her formative years she spent focusing on athletic pursuits, and she could outrun anyone in her village by the age of ten. She climbed every tree within three miles of the village, she won at least half the time in swimming matches at the local pond, and she could dance all night at the solstice festivals. At the age of seven, she started taking afternoon classes with senior members of the village's defensive archery brigade. Nobody at all was surprised when she was selected to represent her county in the war draft the year of her fifteenth birthday. While she was away at war, the village suffered a flu epidemic that killed her parents and last remaining grandparent (her Irian grandmother). It very nearly killed Adan and Sauldrik as well, and Adan still has a fairly weak constitution as a result. She finds it a very strange twist of fate that being involved in a bloody war may have saved her life.
Note on Kayn's First Lieutenant rank: Kayn was one of a hand full of officers who became a lieutenant as the result of a necessity-driven field promotion from sergeant, rather than as the result of holding a university degree or of testing into officer training after being drafted. She has never officially been commissioned. The title was never revoked because her unit's captain was very good at working the system, and he detested the idea of the powers that be sending him another "spoiled, more-educated-than-thou lieutenant" (you see, he was extremely unhappy with the first two, and as a field captain, he was getting extremely sick of dealing with "desk lieutenants" heading up his company's platoon of archers. If he had his way, even specialized weapon platoons would be headed up exclusively by sergeants, anyway).
Since Kayn was honorably discharged when the war ended, she has been attempting to make a living as a tavern and pub lounge singer. She knows a truly amazing number of soldier songs, she can carry a tune well, and she has a lovely, rich voice, but the fact that she generally lacks expression has been a serious obstacle standing in the way of her success. Enpie Caesar at the Duke's Drake often takes pity on her and lets her sleep on a cot in the attic loft in return for an evening's musical entertainment because Kayn rarely makes enough coin from tips and requests to pay for a room.
Kayn has two great fears in life. One is that she will receive word that Captain Brej Averson is dead (she has never loved any single person more than she loves the captain she served under, and for some reason she has a recurring nightmare where she hears of his horrible death, alone and in pain, far, far away... through a flippant comment in a casual conversation with someone she's never met before). The other is helplessness in the face of danger, possibly as a result of broken fingers.
So begins...
Kayn Bowyer's Story
- Seen 14 Times • Page 1 of 1
[From the stage in the far corner of the room, Kayn cannot hear a word Enpie just said, though she saw the gesture. The stage is, quite possibly, the least crowded bit of the room, and Kayn is unsure as to whether she should be grateful for that. If there were more people over here, she might get an actual tip or two. The stage is also very likely the best lit corner of the room, between the wealth of windows and the light of the fire. Her green dress gleams.]
(Nods to the lute player sitting at the edge of the stage) Let's do "Old Soldiers" and "To Lie" again. Most of these people weren't here last night, and at least Geinie likes those. (Waits for the lute player to give her his usual shrug and nod. Sings)
The world, it forgets all the old soldiers' names,
Even to their descendants, no mem’ry remains.
Oh, there’s scars on the land, carved by old soldiers’ pains,
And there’s rivers of tears washing down to the plains,
But no matter the beasts that an old soldier tames,
When the bards write those songs about battles and fame,
All those tales that their deeds or their victories declaim,
They will honor the king or the queen and their reign,
But they will not, not ever, give soldiers a name.
Oh we fight for our country, our kin, and our land!
We fight to protect all those lines in the sand
That were drawn by the people who’ve taken a stand
To ensure that our country can always withstand
Those hardships that everyday life must demand.
We do what is needed, we do what we can,
And always take orders and further the plan
Of the army we serve, every woman and man,
But we won’t be remembered for any long span.
Once it’s ended, to history, we never began.
Oh, the world won’t remember an old soldier’s name,
Will remember the conquests, not his or her pain.
Oh, the wars come and go, and the world stays the same.
No, the world won’t remember an old soldier’s name.
When the bards write those songs about battles and fame,
All those tales that their deeds or their victories declaim,
They will honor the king or the queen and their reign,
But they will not, not ever, give soldiers a name.
(Pauses for applause that doesn't come. Moves on to the next one)
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If you’re lying to save your hide.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If you must defend your pride.
You can lie with your commanding officer.
The results be on your head.
But don’t lie with your commanding officer
If lie means to lie in bed!
Never let it, you’ll regret it, and you cannot take it back.
Lying through your teeth is preferable to lying on your back.
If you compromise, you’ll compromise the rank you’ve earned to date,
And when things go sour, your loyalties will likely turn to hate.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If you both need a little rest.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If your lying is for the best.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
Though the effort might be in vain.
But if you’ve lied in the way that that couples lie,
Oh, don’t ever do it again!
(Nods to the lute player sitting at the edge of the stage) Let's do "Old Soldiers" and "To Lie" again. Most of these people weren't here last night, and at least Geinie likes those. (Waits for the lute player to give her his usual shrug and nod. Sings)
The world, it forgets all the old soldiers' names,
Even to their descendants, no mem’ry remains.
Oh, there’s scars on the land, carved by old soldiers’ pains,
And there’s rivers of tears washing down to the plains,
But no matter the beasts that an old soldier tames,
When the bards write those songs about battles and fame,
All those tales that their deeds or their victories declaim,
They will honor the king or the queen and their reign,
But they will not, not ever, give soldiers a name.
Oh we fight for our country, our kin, and our land!
We fight to protect all those lines in the sand
That were drawn by the people who’ve taken a stand
To ensure that our country can always withstand
Those hardships that everyday life must demand.
We do what is needed, we do what we can,
And always take orders and further the plan
Of the army we serve, every woman and man,
But we won’t be remembered for any long span.
Once it’s ended, to history, we never began.
Oh, the world won’t remember an old soldier’s name,
Will remember the conquests, not his or her pain.
Oh, the wars come and go, and the world stays the same.
No, the world won’t remember an old soldier’s name.
When the bards write those songs about battles and fame,
All those tales that their deeds or their victories declaim,
They will honor the king or the queen and their reign,
But they will not, not ever, give soldiers a name.
(Pauses for applause that doesn't come. Moves on to the next one)
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If you’re lying to save your hide.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If you must defend your pride.
You can lie with your commanding officer.
The results be on your head.
But don’t lie with your commanding officer
If lie means to lie in bed!
Never let it, you’ll regret it, and you cannot take it back.
Lying through your teeth is preferable to lying on your back.
If you compromise, you’ll compromise the rank you’ve earned to date,
And when things go sour, your loyalties will likely turn to hate.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If you both need a little rest.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
If your lying is for the best.
You can lie with your commanding officer,
Though the effort might be in vain.
But if you’ve lied in the way that that couples lie,
Oh, don’t ever do it again!
(Quietly elated that there is actually a coin in the hat. Leans down and yells over the din) Well, I know it, if you mean the one the eighty-sixth used to sing. I know the first couple verses of the Kreissish church hymn, too. (Does not actually wait for the response. The newcomer probably couldn't hear the question anyway, and Edward has already apparently engaged her in conversation. Turns to the lute player) Hey, Turner, do you know Spring Rain?
Turner: (Cocks an eyebrow) No. No, I don't.
Kayn: Well, it's in G, and it's in 4/4 time. Want to try to follow along, or do you want me to go solo on this one?
Turner: (Considers) Well, I want half of whatever is in that hat, so yeah, I'll do what I can.
Kayn: Alright. Let's try this. (Sings as loud as is humanly possible without yelling outright in hopes that some of this will actually be heard, at least by the lute player)
In childhood, who does not love a spring rain?
Back home kids will play while they’re sowing the fields.
The world there is normal, it’s civil and sane.
Spring there means renewal, not old swords and shields.
When thoughts turn to home, the spring rain still is kind.
It softens the earth, but it eases my mind.
I remember a time when I thought of spring rain
And did not then think “we’ll be marching through mud.”
I remember the time when I thought of green plains
And I did not imagine them covered in blood.
Time was that the spring meant the rain and the flowers,
The tiny spring buds and those warm gentle showers.
And yet, though we plant things here that will not grow,
And fire meets rain, and it only makes steam,
In winter those spring rains will still turn to snow
That in summer will still melt and flow down to stream.
Creator is kind, and yes, life will go on.
For every dark night there will be a new dawn.
No matter how much we may lose or obtain,
If war brings us chaos, or life is mundane,
Spring will come every year, and bring with it the rain.
(Someone at a nearby table yells "Yeah, and apparently the fall will, too!" and Kayn decides to ignore it)
Turner: (Cocks an eyebrow) No. No, I don't.
Kayn: Well, it's in G, and it's in 4/4 time. Want to try to follow along, or do you want me to go solo on this one?
Turner: (Considers) Well, I want half of whatever is in that hat, so yeah, I'll do what I can.
Kayn: Alright. Let's try this. (Sings as loud as is humanly possible without yelling outright in hopes that some of this will actually be heard, at least by the lute player)
In childhood, who does not love a spring rain?
Back home kids will play while they’re sowing the fields.
The world there is normal, it’s civil and sane.
Spring there means renewal, not old swords and shields.
When thoughts turn to home, the spring rain still is kind.
It softens the earth, but it eases my mind.
I remember a time when I thought of spring rain
And did not then think “we’ll be marching through mud.”
I remember the time when I thought of green plains
And I did not imagine them covered in blood.
Time was that the spring meant the rain and the flowers,
The tiny spring buds and those warm gentle showers.
And yet, though we plant things here that will not grow,
And fire meets rain, and it only makes steam,
In winter those spring rains will still turn to snow
That in summer will still melt and flow down to stream.
Creator is kind, and yes, life will go on.
For every dark night there will be a new dawn.
No matter how much we may lose or obtain,
If war brings us chaos, or life is mundane,
Spring will come every year, and bring with it the rain.
(Someone at a nearby table yells "Yeah, and apparently the fall will, too!" and Kayn decides to ignore it)
(nods) Yeah, Creator knows I'm no good at the emoting. Makes me seem insincere, I'm told. Could do with more than a few copper, though, I'll tell you that much, n'I'm grateful for what you've put in there, but I only know two dance tunes.
Turner: (tuning his lute) HAH! Yeah, this one knows about a hundred marching tunes and two dance tunes. Sometimes I think I'd make more money solo, but the lute ain't loud enough for this place without vocals.
Kayn: Well. Yes. Anyway, Turner, Solstice Dancing. Uptempo. (sings)
Oh, the days of the solstice dancing
Oh, the strum of the lute's fair tune
Oh, for all of those hours of gladness
Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon.
When lads and girls come gather
In the courtyard on solstice night
And the singers all are trilling
We all whirl with wild delight!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to long for it
My heart both smiles and cries!
Hear those voices of past companions
Creeping in through our mem'ries once more
And the sound of the solstice music
Bright and clear as in days of yore.
Men and women to your places
Up the middle and down again
Ah, the wild, whirling revels
And that joy we can't contain!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to long for it
My heart both smiles and cries! (etc.)
Turner: (tuning his lute) HAH! Yeah, this one knows about a hundred marching tunes and two dance tunes. Sometimes I think I'd make more money solo, but the lute ain't loud enough for this place without vocals.
Kayn: Well. Yes. Anyway, Turner, Solstice Dancing. Uptempo. (sings)
Oh, the days of the solstice dancing
Oh, the strum of the lute's fair tune
Oh, for all of those hours of gladness
Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon.
When lads and girls come gather
In the courtyard on solstice night
And the singers all are trilling
We all whirl with wild delight!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to long for it
My heart both smiles and cries!
Hear those voices of past companions
Creeping in through our mem'ries once more
And the sound of the solstice music
Bright and clear as in days of yore.
Men and women to your places
Up the middle and down again
Ah, the wild, whirling revels
And that joy we can't contain!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to long for it
My heart both smiles and cries! (etc.)
Kalsim: (The sounds of those old tunes touched his ears, and his head tilted. The sounds, but not the words, though the tempo… what was that song. And which version? He'd heard so many tunes in his day, it seemed like every batch of new recruits had their own way of singing this song or that song, and the lyrics he once knew were a stranger to them all. He sighed softly, leaning against the wall of the inn, waiting for the crowd to part and give him a fair shot at a good seat near the fire. He was feeling old today. The rain always made his joints ache, and the journey here hadn't given him any help in that department. He was still bruised from where he had been jostled by the crowds just getting in the door.)
-Oh Kalsim, admit it to yourself. You're twice the age of anyone here, and yet you're still trying to run the young man's pace. Just like in the Pikers… but that’s the past. And the future to live is now, so cheer up you sandsod. Maybe a song...-
(With a push off the wall, and using his pike for a little extra stability, he moves towards the stage at a steady pace, still able to maneuver around the chaos of humanity swirling to and fro in the inn. The young lady vacates her seat for a moment, and he moves forward to catch it before…)
Ylona: Nu'uh, this'un's mine. Find yer own spot or stand.
Kalsim: (A pause, and then with solid voice, raised high enough to be heard, but not enough to antagonize) My apologies madam. I will stand then and claim my spot. The wind will bring me a chair soon enough should I need it.
(with a turn, he moves to ensure he does not block the path, and fishes into his belt pouch. A coin slips out, and when the song "Solstice Dancing" is finished, it is dropped into the hat, letting it clink against its brother) Good singer, perhaps you know "Home Before the Harvest"? It's an older song, and thus I understand if you've not heard of it before. If not that one, then perhaps "The Yellow Lady"? It should be about the same tune for both.
Kayn:(leans down to catch the request. Finds she's half tempted to salute) We can do both, sir, if you like. You know, there's only two of us up here. If you can make it, you can sit on the edge of the stage. S'ok, Turner?
Turner: Yeah, I don't mind.
Kayn: Neither of us bites... very often. Maybe lean the pike away from the fire, though? One a' those standards caught fire here, once.
-Oh Kalsim, admit it to yourself. You're twice the age of anyone here, and yet you're still trying to run the young man's pace. Just like in the Pikers… but that’s the past. And the future to live is now, so cheer up you sandsod. Maybe a song...-
(With a push off the wall, and using his pike for a little extra stability, he moves towards the stage at a steady pace, still able to maneuver around the chaos of humanity swirling to and fro in the inn. The young lady vacates her seat for a moment, and he moves forward to catch it before…)
Ylona: Nu'uh, this'un's mine. Find yer own spot or stand.
Kalsim: (A pause, and then with solid voice, raised high enough to be heard, but not enough to antagonize) My apologies madam. I will stand then and claim my spot. The wind will bring me a chair soon enough should I need it.
(with a turn, he moves to ensure he does not block the path, and fishes into his belt pouch. A coin slips out, and when the song "Solstice Dancing" is finished, it is dropped into the hat, letting it clink against its brother) Good singer, perhaps you know "Home Before the Harvest"? It's an older song, and thus I understand if you've not heard of it before. If not that one, then perhaps "The Yellow Lady"? It should be about the same tune for both.
Kayn:(leans down to catch the request. Finds she's half tempted to salute) We can do both, sir, if you like. You know, there's only two of us up here. If you can make it, you can sit on the edge of the stage. S'ok, Turner?
Turner: Yeah, I don't mind.
Kayn: Neither of us bites... very often. Maybe lean the pike away from the fire, though? One a' those standards caught fire here, once.
Kayn: (to Turner) Start with Home Before the Harvest.
Turner: (Shrugs) 'K. (Nods the tempo and starts up)
Kayn: (Sings)
Home before the harvest, we'll be home before the harvest,
We'll be home before the harvest, yes, we'll all be done here soon.
When it beats down, that summer sun, the enemy will turn and run,
We'll chase them back 'til day is done, then home before the harvest.
Home before the harvest, we'll be home before the harvest,
We'll be home before the harvest, yes, we'll all be done here soon.
Oh, they won't even stand a chance against our bold army's advance,
We'll all go home and then we'll dance at home before the harvest.
Home before the harvest, we'll be home before the harvest,
We'll be home before the harvest, yes, we'll all be done here soon.
(Continues for another four verses in the same vein)
Turner: (Shrugs) 'K. (Nods the tempo and starts up)
Kayn: (Sings)
Home before the harvest, we'll be home before the harvest,
We'll be home before the harvest, yes, we'll all be done here soon.
When it beats down, that summer sun, the enemy will turn and run,
We'll chase them back 'til day is done, then home before the harvest.
Home before the harvest, we'll be home before the harvest,
We'll be home before the harvest, yes, we'll all be done here soon.
Oh, they won't even stand a chance against our bold army's advance,
We'll all go home and then we'll dance at home before the harvest.
Home before the harvest, we'll be home before the harvest,
We'll be home before the harvest, yes, we'll all be done here soon.
(Continues for another four verses in the same vein)
(Singing again)
Do you see that pretty lady, dressed from head to toe in yellow?
Do you see that pretty lady? Maybe someday she'll be mine!
When she smiles down, that fine, fair lass, and all that fine hair shines like brass,
I know she loves him still, alas! I wish she would be mine.
She was married to a soldier, and he was a dashing fellow,
She was married to a soldier, but in battle he did die.
When she smiles down, that fine, fair lass, and all that fine hair shines like brass,
I know she loves him still, alas! I wish she would be mine. (continues in this vein for another three verses)
Do you see that pretty lady, dressed from head to toe in yellow?
Do you see that pretty lady? Maybe someday she'll be mine!
When she smiles down, that fine, fair lass, and all that fine hair shines like brass,
I know she loves him still, alas! I wish she would be mine.
She was married to a soldier, and he was a dashing fellow,
She was married to a soldier, but in battle he did die.
When she smiles down, that fine, fair lass, and all that fine hair shines like brass,
I know she loves him still, alas! I wish she would be mine. (continues in this vein for another three verses)
Kayn: (to Turner) Five or ten minute drink break? Now that we actually have a few coins for drinks?
Turner: (Grins Brilliantly) Oh, yes. Best idea I've heard all day. (Starts arranging his lute against the corner at the back of the stage, for safety sake) I'm off to the bar counter. Bring you something, or are you coming with?
Kayn: Some sort of beer will do for me, if you don't mind.
Turner: (Nods jovially, snatches the jingling hat, and heads for the bar)
Kayn: (Settles herself near Kalsim at the edge of the stage) Mind if I join you? We're taking ten. Did I hear something about Ikrane? My grandmother was born there. Settled in Kreiss a long time before they blew themselves up, though, and then of course, she moved here before I was even born... um. Sorry. Tangent. My name is Kayn. Nice to meet you.
Turner: (Grins Brilliantly) Oh, yes. Best idea I've heard all day. (Starts arranging his lute against the corner at the back of the stage, for safety sake) I'm off to the bar counter. Bring you something, or are you coming with?
Kayn: Some sort of beer will do for me, if you don't mind.
Turner: (Nods jovially, snatches the jingling hat, and heads for the bar)
Kayn: (Settles herself near Kalsim at the edge of the stage) Mind if I join you? We're taking ten. Did I hear something about Ikrane? My grandmother was born there. Settled in Kreiss a long time before they blew themselves up, though, and then of course, she moved here before I was even born... um. Sorry. Tangent. My name is Kayn. Nice to meet you.
(Launches into a very dryly toned, yet remarkably fast paced stream of thought) Well, that makes sense, in a way. The two of us are a bit young to get any of those legends through the usual channels, I reckon. Y'know, a lot of soldiers just a bit older than we are decided that the "treasure of Ikrane City Castle" legend was cursed, and nobody wanted to tell it anymore. Anyway, Ikrane City... y'know, not Ikrane Burgh in west Bailen, um, I hope we're not talking about Bailen because I don't know much about their legends... but anyway, Ikrane City was the capitol of Iria when Iria was a nation and not a battlefield, and there are legends telling that when the Irians blew the entire city back to the Creator in the thirteenth year of the war the treasury was still intact underneath it. The treasury was supposed to be the "basement of the entire city," though I personally always thought they meant that figuratively, y'know "basement" meaning everything-is-based-on-it, rather than literally a cellar sort of basement, and Grams used to say that the treasury was "on loan from the faerie king, and he probably took it back when the monarchy fell," whatever that was supposed to mean. I was actually invited to join this last expedition. Bunch of ex-soldiers, even a couple under my command once upon a time, who were hard on their luck marched off to see if they could excavate the "lost treasury." I'm not quite that desperate yet, I mean Ikrane is cursed and haunted all to hell, right?... and um, was that about what you were going to say, urm, wow... are you really a Command Sergeant Major? That makes you what, a forty-plus year man?
(duly impressed, though it does not specially show in her expression... or lack thereof) Have you ever considered writing a book? Or becoming a bard? I bet you have some truly unique stories to tell, and you tell them better than I could, even if I knew them all. (Pauses for a beat) I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names. I'm still thinking of you as "the people who bought my drink." (Tries to smile Ylona's way, but it probably looks more like a weird facial tic from lack of practice)
Well. I was honorably discharged exactly seven days after the Tri-Kingdom Peace Treaty was signed, and all I'm good at that isn't directly related to military action or maybe sport, which nobody is willing to pay for unless there's gambling involved, is memorization. Especially if something has easy memory cues like in rhyming verse. I sort of accidentally-on-purpose learned every song I heard out in the field, so I thought maybe I could use that, especially since the hunting market is glutted past capacity since peace set in. And the Captain behind the bar counter takes pity on terminally broke, underemployed veterans, no matter how mediocre a musician he or she may be. The end. My tale isn't specially interesting, actually, now that I bother to tell it.
(Turner sneaks up to the side of Kayn, hands her a pint, and scurries off to the other side of the pub to flirt with good-looking women. Kayn takes a conservative sip)
(Turner sneaks up to the side of Kayn, hands her a pint, and scurries off to the other side of the pub to flirt with good-looking women. Kayn takes a conservative sip)
No, actually. Have you, Kalsim? Please, do tell. (takes another sip) You know, this is a really good brew year for Northern beer.
Um... there are people who actually believe in vampires? Even Irians didn't believe in vampires. That's just weird. Gran would have laughed... and then started talking about faeries, of course. (rolls eyes slightly upward)
Yick. That sort of thing gives all of us a bad name. Y'know, I hear there are towns that post "No Military or Ex-Military" signs on their walls, now. And really, most of us are perfectly honest and decent people. It's just that the news of the bad ones travels faster and louder.
Well, mostly I'm going to keep my ear to the ground and hopefully find work at the fair. I tried that last year, too, though, and it didn't do me much good. As for faeries, the way I see it is if they really did exist in Iria like Gran believed, we'd have seen them when we were fighting there all those years. Wouldn't they have tried to screw us all over or something? I mean, worse than we were already screwing ourselves and each other? I wouldn't go there, if I were you. It's a death trap. Maybe even as much as when we were fighting there, but for different reasons. And there's nobody out there anymore to hear you scream if something goes wrong.
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