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Murcielaga
Moon
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2019
The bells and drums signalling the ships rang out over the small port city of Pevenar, rolling and sonorous over the harbor. Heavy waxed nets slapped the frothing steel of Crescent Bay, the cries of the fishermen almost lost in the snapping of the wind and the groaning timbers of the boats. Fat gulls and herons soared and skimmed over the glimmering water, rising into the powder blue sky with beaks full of small, oily fish. Low in the distance, she could hear the drone of a singing horn and its triumphant melody. It was the music of civilization, and after a long stint in the wilds between cities in the light and unforgiving shadows of a Broken Moon, Kalahai welcomed it.
Not that there was much time to appreciate it, she thought as she tried to urge her mule quicker through the surf-packed wet sand of the wide white beach. The animal squealed and huffed in protest as she dug her hooves into its side and tapped its haunch with the spade of her tail. She had an appointment to keep and the barricade along the Avenue of Traders had delayed her enough that she would be lucky to meet this local lawkeeper on time instead of early as she had hoped. After enough coaxing and clicking she was finally able to get her beast to go from a staccato walk into a grudging trot, her camping supplies rattling on its back as they hurried along the surf in the direction of the Needle’s Eye.
Like most of Pevenar’s buildings, it was a squat two-story affair made of sand scrubbed white stone that gleamed in sun. The brilliant mosaic tiling along the arched doors and windows depicted fish, whales and seabirds in swirling patterns of red, blue and green, bright as blood against the pale surface. What distinguished is at a municipal building however was the high decorated arch of carved stone that dominated its low perimeter fence. The banners showing city colors in streaming ribbons snapped in the breeze, just above the heads of the two armed and armored guards that stood watch at each foot of the arch. One had been leaning on her spear, the other against the arch until they noticed her. Both appeared to be human, sweat soaked and dirty from the sandy breeze.
She had that much in common with them, but that is where the similarities ended. She was a demon after all, and one either blessed or cursed with a bold phenotype depending on the person observing. Her skin was the color of dusty orchid and striped with bloody maroon, stretched taut over a tall, well-muscled frame. Her hair was a mane of peacock blue that turned teal at the ends, wrestled back into a large messy braid that fell to the small of her back. Heavy, expressive eyebrows, bright cyan eyes and bold dark lips punctuated a rebellious face, made more so by the pair of primary horns that soared up from her skull and the secondary horns marking her brow. Her figure was more athletic than opulent, shielded by a battered steel breastplate, a dusty mail shirt and scarred bracers. Around her narrow waist wrapped leather armor bound by a heavy belt with a triangular buckle set with an odd, burnt-blue topaz. From the belt flared a heavy leather skirt, studded with metal scutes at the hips that dropped down to her calves. Her hooves were of the splitfoot variety, and were in bad need of a good polish. In one gloved hand she carried a long, straight staff made of some sort of copper or bronze with a jagged tip--a weapon almost as dramatic as the wings folded tightly against her back.
She rode her mule as close as she dared and dismounted with her staff in hand. The guards clattered to attention.
“Halt, demon. Your errand please?” The male of the two said, holding out his hand.
“I thought they trained your people to say ‘traveller’ when asking strangers for their business,” Kahalai said as she fished around for her writ in her pouch, “Much more neutral these days.”
There was a brief acknowledgement of the rudeness of her response that passed between them before she withdrew a small, tightly rolled scroll from her side pouch and handed it to the guard, “The Second Rictor is expecting me.”
The guard took it, and examined it with a careful frown before returning it to her and nodding to his companion. Both of them stepped aside.
“You can tie up your beast at the post out the front. Wait in the lobby. The Second Rictor will collect you when he is ready.”
Kalahai smiled, enjoying how the reveal of her sharp teeth seemed to make the male guard visibly uncomfortable.
***
The stone interior of the Needle's Eye was welcome and cool against Kalahai’s hot skin. She brushed a strand of hair from the side of her face and glanced around the pristine lobby--marked by a pair of flowering plants growing in the corners near the front desk for somewhere to sit and was annoyed to find that all the benches and chairs had been designed with human asses in mind except but for a single, too-tall stool leaning against one of the windows.
The human woman behind the counter suggested she sit to wait. Kalahai ignored her, electing to stand and inspecting the stained glass windows that cast brilliant points of light on the stone floors. It reminded her a little bit of some of the temple edifices that she’d often been called to sweep with the Mercenary guilds, although in those savage places in the Ossuary the stained glass was usually broken.
There were heavy footsteps--boots, she recognized, as the door leading to the chambers beyond opened. An older man stood there. He was wearing shiny ceremonial armor, a curved sword and a blue cape draped regally over his narrow shoulders, but none of it did much to hide the fact that he was pale from lack of work in the sun by human standards, or his dramatically receding hairline.
He stared at her in token of surprise before turning to his secretary, “The other one hasn't arrived yet?” he said, his voice sharp. Kalahai was floored. How dare he not even acknowledge her?
“No,” the secretary said, shuffling a sheaf of paper, “But there was a barricade in the Avenue of Traders. It’s possible if she is riding that she had to go around the mess.”
“I could have told you as much,” Kalahai interjected, “But, I’m sorry, you were expecting someone else?”
“Yes and no,” the man said, finally turning to look at her. She was immediately irritated by his scrutiny and stood up straighter, her tail stiff, “You are Kalahai?”
She stepped forward and handed him the scroll.
“I cast a shadow in your presence,” she said grudgingly by the way of formal greeting.
“I am the Second Rictor, Tiberus Hala,” he introduced himself, “And you were indeed summoned here with intent to help us with our little problem, but you won’t be working this job alone.”
Kalahai gaped at him and managed to wrestle her expression into a manageable frown.
“I would have liked to know that before I accepted the task,” she said, an edge of irritation to her voice, “I usually do my best work alone.”
It was a baldfaced lie but neither human seemed interested in calling her on it--at least not directly. She could feel her face flushing as the Second Rictor simply gave her a long look. How much did this township lawkeeper know about her past sordid details, she wondered. She had shed her former title and ranks already. Surely not enough to be too embarrassing. But another person.
“Who is this other person?” she persisted, curious despite herself, “Demon, human? Angel?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s a little more complicated than any of those options,” the Second Rictor said, turning. “Come. We’ll wait in my office until our other agent arrives. Ishean, bring her in when she arrives. Can I offer you some water?”
Entirely wrong footed, Kalahai followed, her tail curling. This was about to get interesting.
Not that there was much time to appreciate it, she thought as she tried to urge her mule quicker through the surf-packed wet sand of the wide white beach. The animal squealed and huffed in protest as she dug her hooves into its side and tapped its haunch with the spade of her tail. She had an appointment to keep and the barricade along the Avenue of Traders had delayed her enough that she would be lucky to meet this local lawkeeper on time instead of early as she had hoped. After enough coaxing and clicking she was finally able to get her beast to go from a staccato walk into a grudging trot, her camping supplies rattling on its back as they hurried along the surf in the direction of the Needle’s Eye.
Like most of Pevenar’s buildings, it was a squat two-story affair made of sand scrubbed white stone that gleamed in sun. The brilliant mosaic tiling along the arched doors and windows depicted fish, whales and seabirds in swirling patterns of red, blue and green, bright as blood against the pale surface. What distinguished is at a municipal building however was the high decorated arch of carved stone that dominated its low perimeter fence. The banners showing city colors in streaming ribbons snapped in the breeze, just above the heads of the two armed and armored guards that stood watch at each foot of the arch. One had been leaning on her spear, the other against the arch until they noticed her. Both appeared to be human, sweat soaked and dirty from the sandy breeze.
She had that much in common with them, but that is where the similarities ended. She was a demon after all, and one either blessed or cursed with a bold phenotype depending on the person observing. Her skin was the color of dusty orchid and striped with bloody maroon, stretched taut over a tall, well-muscled frame. Her hair was a mane of peacock blue that turned teal at the ends, wrestled back into a large messy braid that fell to the small of her back. Heavy, expressive eyebrows, bright cyan eyes and bold dark lips punctuated a rebellious face, made more so by the pair of primary horns that soared up from her skull and the secondary horns marking her brow. Her figure was more athletic than opulent, shielded by a battered steel breastplate, a dusty mail shirt and scarred bracers. Around her narrow waist wrapped leather armor bound by a heavy belt with a triangular buckle set with an odd, burnt-blue topaz. From the belt flared a heavy leather skirt, studded with metal scutes at the hips that dropped down to her calves. Her hooves were of the splitfoot variety, and were in bad need of a good polish. In one gloved hand she carried a long, straight staff made of some sort of copper or bronze with a jagged tip--a weapon almost as dramatic as the wings folded tightly against her back.
She rode her mule as close as she dared and dismounted with her staff in hand. The guards clattered to attention.
“Halt, demon. Your errand please?” The male of the two said, holding out his hand.
“I thought they trained your people to say ‘traveller’ when asking strangers for their business,” Kahalai said as she fished around for her writ in her pouch, “Much more neutral these days.”
There was a brief acknowledgement of the rudeness of her response that passed between them before she withdrew a small, tightly rolled scroll from her side pouch and handed it to the guard, “The Second Rictor is expecting me.”
The guard took it, and examined it with a careful frown before returning it to her and nodding to his companion. Both of them stepped aside.
“You can tie up your beast at the post out the front. Wait in the lobby. The Second Rictor will collect you when he is ready.”
Kalahai smiled, enjoying how the reveal of her sharp teeth seemed to make the male guard visibly uncomfortable.
***
The stone interior of the Needle's Eye was welcome and cool against Kalahai’s hot skin. She brushed a strand of hair from the side of her face and glanced around the pristine lobby--marked by a pair of flowering plants growing in the corners near the front desk for somewhere to sit and was annoyed to find that all the benches and chairs had been designed with human asses in mind except but for a single, too-tall stool leaning against one of the windows.
The human woman behind the counter suggested she sit to wait. Kalahai ignored her, electing to stand and inspecting the stained glass windows that cast brilliant points of light on the stone floors. It reminded her a little bit of some of the temple edifices that she’d often been called to sweep with the Mercenary guilds, although in those savage places in the Ossuary the stained glass was usually broken.
There were heavy footsteps--boots, she recognized, as the door leading to the chambers beyond opened. An older man stood there. He was wearing shiny ceremonial armor, a curved sword and a blue cape draped regally over his narrow shoulders, but none of it did much to hide the fact that he was pale from lack of work in the sun by human standards, or his dramatically receding hairline.
He stared at her in token of surprise before turning to his secretary, “The other one hasn't arrived yet?” he said, his voice sharp. Kalahai was floored. How dare he not even acknowledge her?
“No,” the secretary said, shuffling a sheaf of paper, “But there was a barricade in the Avenue of Traders. It’s possible if she is riding that she had to go around the mess.”
“I could have told you as much,” Kalahai interjected, “But, I’m sorry, you were expecting someone else?”
“Yes and no,” the man said, finally turning to look at her. She was immediately irritated by his scrutiny and stood up straighter, her tail stiff, “You are Kalahai?”
She stepped forward and handed him the scroll.
“I cast a shadow in your presence,” she said grudgingly by the way of formal greeting.
“I am the Second Rictor, Tiberus Hala,” he introduced himself, “And you were indeed summoned here with intent to help us with our little problem, but you won’t be working this job alone.”
Kalahai gaped at him and managed to wrestle her expression into a manageable frown.
“I would have liked to know that before I accepted the task,” she said, an edge of irritation to her voice, “I usually do my best work alone.”
It was a baldfaced lie but neither human seemed interested in calling her on it--at least not directly. She could feel her face flushing as the Second Rictor simply gave her a long look. How much did this township lawkeeper know about her past sordid details, she wondered. She had shed her former title and ranks already. Surely not enough to be too embarrassing. But another person.
“Who is this other person?” she persisted, curious despite herself, “Demon, human? Angel?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s a little more complicated than any of those options,” the Second Rictor said, turning. “Come. We’ll wait in my office until our other agent arrives. Ishean, bring her in when she arrives. Can I offer you some water?”
Entirely wrong footed, Kalahai followed, her tail curling. This was about to get interesting.
