you’ve got that look in your eyes

POSTED: Fri May 18, 2018 8:40 am

Unhand that woman, scoundrel!

The lilting foreignness of the voice became obvious only in the rolling of the R’s. Under normal circumstances, the accent wasn’t nearly so pronounced. The command had ripped through Traders Alley like a whip, sharp and loud and crackling. For a busy trading town, it was enough the make them stop; not just the volume of the voice but the sheer force of will behind it. Unfortunately, the canine in question did not stop and heed the warning given, but continued to roughly drag the jackel girl by the skin of her cheek and neck.

You there, ruffian! Leave that woman alone.” And by this time the midnight-drenched canine was striding through the sparse crowd with an outraged look to her fierce face. Vibrant blue eyes were narrowed with brows pulled severely down so that her whole face frowned. Pale stockinged arms reached for the first throwable object and landed on an old tome. She threw it as if it weighed nothing at all. It hit the weaseley creature on the shoulder and brought him up short.

Ignoring the protests of the trader of whom she had repurposed his wares (and quite choosing not to see how that book had cracked open on impact and scattered pages now ruffled in the wind) the woman took great strides forward towards the pair. Raven curls trailed behind her, brilliant blue eyes blazing. “Look’ere missy, this ain’t none’a’ya business.” He stated, sneering at the warrior woman as she came to a stop in front of him.

You have no right to treat others in such a way! Release her at once!” Indignant, righteous, courageous. She had never had problems expressing her thoughts. “Wind ya neck in. She does what a’say, cause she’s my bitch. An’ she knows I own the very fur on’er back.” He spat the words in the woman’s direction, leering at the shrinking jackel girl to remind her exactly of her place. Eretz leaned casually down to pick up the burst book and with a look of pure mutiny, slammed the hard spine into the males face.
000+ looking for anyone at all so I can test drive this one here! Set in Portland in Traders Alley, unknown sleazy male and slave girl!

POSTED: Fri May 18, 2018 9:44 am

She had idled in and around Portland for some months by then, and spent most of her time observing and making notes. Every trading hub she had ever breezed through was the same: loud, crowded, and unpleasant, and it took far too much time to sift through the garbage to find something worth taking. Every weapons vendor had everything but; every merchant with horses wanted to give away only the unhealthy-looking ones; every spice and herb vendor wanted far more than they were willing to give away.

Portland was no different, although it was much too cold, all the time, and it had taken Persis weeks upon weeks to acclimate to plain English under difficult accents. It took the vendors time to acclimate to her own, just the same.

She was young, and perhaps a little arrogant, in that she believed she had seen everything there was to see at port cities. She was wrong. Apple in hand, Persis paused at a fruit vendor to watch a man drag past a young jackal woman through the crowd and balked at the combination of cruelty and audacity. She glanced several directions, wondering why no one had intervened, why this seemed so commonplace, and breathed in some relief when books (why books? Why did she have to throw books?) were made airborne as a means of justice.

Collected and calm, Persis unhinged the pointed spear from its harness across her back and made her way quietly to them, just in time for the trader to reel back with a bleeding nose and face one seething retaliator and the passive, armed Persis now beside her.

Her fingers drummed along the shaft expectantly, a stoic and poised presence like the quiet but charged periphery around the thunderstorm that was her neighbor.

Unsmiling and with lidded eyes, Persis tilted her head to the side. She rapped the end of her spear once against the ground as a subtle threat. “We could make a scene if you’d like one,” she said, her accent strong like winds across a sea of hot sand.

POSTED: Fri May 18, 2018 10:39 am

The spine of the crumbling book made contact with the mans rather crooked nose and elicited a yelp of pain from the creature. A spluttering, raging torrent of profanity spurted forth, collecting in the woman’s dark ears like flapping bats. They made little odds to her, whose bright gaze was on the jackal woman. The blow had caused him to drop his hold on the cheek of the girl who’d promptly skittered back and out of the way. Not an escape attempt; she seemed uncertain and fearful of her masters wrath.

At the same time, a presence made itself known at her side. Instinctively she turned her body to the other, the strangers warm honey browns a juxtaposition to her own palette. It mattered not their differences, for the stoic expression and subtle thumb of a spear coupled nicely with the females words. Back up had arrived even though Eretz had not looked for it. It was a burden from her shoulders none the less.

Before she could thank her supporter, a snarl curdled the moment of feminine solidarity as the man reached the end of his tether. More profanity ensued and Eretz turned to square her body as he drew a knife from a holster at his waist. Utterly unafraid, the midnight warrior looked almost as though she would enjoy this challenge. “You can not harm the bestower of justice. Surrender your weapon and submit to imprisonment. You will receive a fair trial if you do so.

Nobody could have explained to Eretz that this was not quite how things worked away from the Forest of Mirrors. There, a tribunal would have been held in order to assess this mans crimes and his guilt and then a suitable punishment delivered. This, to the warrior princess, seemed the most logical and fair of processes in dealing with criminals and she would not understand the lack of law enforcement in these other lands.

When the male barked out a laugh and slashed at her face with the knife however, she did not even flinch.
000+ <3

POSTED: Fri May 18, 2018 1:14 pm

Her comrade spoke like a hero in a fairy tale, the type told to a child by their mother as they nestled to sleep. It brought a smirk to the lips of the de le Poer, though short-lived once the jackal-woman skittered away and the trader retaliated.

He had a knife, but he was not trained with it (or maybe he was, and the arrogance of Persis in that moment was something to be admired). Similarly, her partner had no weapon, and did not flinch at the sight of one. What an absurdity of a situation. If it cut the bold young woman with the big mouth, Persis did not see. Without thinking the de le Poer retaliated, seizing the man’s wielding arm with the speed of a snapping cobra and twisting it behind him. The knife folded nicely out of his hand. Her spear, left standing in the dirt, toppled over unceremoniously between their feet.

She put a foot to his hip and pushed him away. Persis tossed the knife at the dirt near to the jackal-woman with a telling look, placed herself between slaver and slave, and waited for the opportunity to scoop up her weapon.

With few onlookers, the Portland crowd brushed past them as if nothing eventful had occurred at all.

“You can arrest him now,” she said the woman on the other side of their assailant. Realization set in, and with it a concerned tonal change. “Are you injured?”