Ilocera's hayan training (Private, Ilocera)

[Dragon]

OOC: Continued from here. Welcome to your training. And please TS

The brightening was early and windy. For some strange reason now the winds seemed really furious, blowing throughout the streets, trying to creep into houses and especially wild in the woods. Almost as if the Planetar of the Winds had just awaken, if there was one like that of course. Maybe it was a simple occurence or maybe an elementalist visiting Vortex. Either way it did not matter all that much, because a certain vysstichi woman had other things on her mind. At some strange moments it seemed that she had other beings in her mind as well.

Now Vortex was for her to claim. And she had to claim one life indeed. Choices were almost endless. Har'oloth filled with her own kind and rats, the surface filled with all kinds of races including orcs, the southern quarter which was the most nasty in all the rubbish and wreckage it had. Beggars and sick filled all streets almost asking to be killed so that they would not need to endure another tormenting brightening. Even the filthy rich people safely buried in their houses with golden dishes on the tables and feathery, white pillows in the beds. These people, the rich, were the most hideous ones. Their desires and sick intentions had sometimes scared the most capable necromancers or mystics who dared to look into such minds by an accident or not.

And it was Ilocera who had to choose one of the breathing creatures of Vortex. She also had two brightenings for that, so she had all the reason to wait till the darkening would fall and the winds would calm down if she would choose to go to the surface of Vortex to hunt. Of course there always was one more option, to quit this whole thing and never return to the temple of Haya. The goddess of lust. Her goddess as she so boldly spoke to the High Priestess, absolutely sure that what she was doing then was the right thing. Perhaps some fresh air would change her mind, but perhaps it would only make her seek her goals harder. Either way the Winds were watching and waiting.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

Early- to mid-brightening, 15 Immanis, Era XI PF, Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Paradigm: Undead attack Zerdargia

[ooc: Edited: added a final sentence to make explicit what I'm actually *doing*

Iloncera felt as if it was late-afternoon by the time she exited the Temple of Carnal Love, and there was little in the subterranean environment to tell her otherwise. In fact, however, it had only been a bit over a candlemark since she had entered, and the brightening was still quite young. Her interview with High Mistress Floh'l, however, had enervated her as if they had spent a long, gruelling day together.

But this was no time for the young Kitrye'veresi to dwell on how frazzled she was. She had a task to perform, a sacrifice for Haya. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly through her mouth as she tried to focus, for right now her mind was a-chatter with various thoughts, most of which revolved around the questions about what or who she was going to kill in the next two brightenings and how. For all her comfortable familiarity with Har'oloth and its violent culture, she herself knew next to nothing about killing; also, in spite of her social position, she had few resources at her direct personal disposal for the task.

Still, she found it hard to believe that it took either extensive resources or exceptional skill to kill someone. Illiterate, desparate scum did it to one another all the time, and she was a far superior being to such creatures. She was vysstichi, female, and noble. She was strong and nimble, and her dagger was sharp enough to slit any throat she might choose. Raising her head into that haughty manner into which she was born, Iloncera looked about the caves of Har'oloth. She was alone in the city's tunnels now, with no house guards to protect and escort her. Normally, this would have made her apprehensive of the many dangers that awaited her there, but today, she told herself, *she* was one of those dangers. It was for the denizens of these planes to fear *her* now.

The first thing she needed for her task was proper clothes, meaning those she could afford to stain with blood and discard if need be. She was not prepared to do that with any of the clothes she had now. Of course, she could kill while wearing no clothes at all, and the heart of a victim who died under the attendant circumstances might even be particularly agreeable to Haya. That would constrain the number of suitable victims, however, as well as the places where she could do the deed.

She decided to go to market and buy an inexpensive black hooded cloak, one large enough to cover her tall, well-muscled frame completely down to her feet, as well as conceal her face from sight. She would probably also want rags that she could use and then simply throw away. The process would be quite bloody after all, for even if she killed her victim without spilling a drop, she still had to get the heart and the ear.

And that brought her to the next question: how she was to do the deed. There were numerous ways to kill, a few of which Iloncera already had at her disposal. Cutting off an ear was child's play (for some vysstichi children quite literally, in fact), but extracting a heart from the victim's chest quickly and cleanly was not a feat to be taken for granted. Where would she learn how to do this, quickly?

The question was no sooner asked than answered: butchers. A butcher broke open rib cages and extracted hearts several times a brightening; what better person to teach her how to obtain her prize? A butcher would also know the best way to transport a bloody organ or piece of meat, the best stuff to wrap it in. It seemed a fairly obvious and workable solution. Even the cynical little bone-dagger voice that spoke from the back of her head seemed to find no fault with it. On the other hand, it could not resist commenting: Didn't you always say that murder and mayhem were work best left to cooks and butchers? I guess that would be you now, eh, *Lady* Iloncera?

Whatever resorting to such a measure made her, she was first going to get her cloak. She was not going to walk into a butcher's lair with her nice clothes exposed to splattering cow's blood and swine guts. Holding her head up and moving with a purpose, Iloncera Sharolath now made her way up towards the upper levels of Harolath where the mercantile district was.

[Dragon]

And so the over trusting her own abilities vysstichi went to the Shadow Market of Har'oloth. It was a rather big place, with lots of shops and products which were not too well known by anyone. This was the best place for Ilocera to go to buy a cloak and that was exactly where she went. So far there weren't any suitable victims, unless she decided to kill in a crowd with her beautiful clothes. Most people, vysstichies, walked in groups or there was always someone else on the other side who could see just what was going on. Not to mention the guards.

There was a shop for clothing with a name which was just impossible to read on the sign from the damage it got in these caves. Just as well the sign was poorly made so the letters had worn out more or less, leaving just one word readable 'Clothing' and that was all that the woman needed. If she decided to choose this shop, then she would be greeted by a vysstichi man who was standing behind a counter. He was in his mid patterns with all the vysstichi features. Strange or not, but a man was working in a shop, where woman came into a lot more often than men.

"How may I help you? Something black?' He asked Ilocera if she indeed chose to enter this shop. Lately all the customers he had demanded black shirt, black pants, black gloves, black black black. As if there were no more colours in the world. And he was making more and more black clothes to fit the customers needs and fill his pockets. However if Ilocera chose to go to a different shop then she had all the free will in the world. There had to be some other shop in Har'oloth's market probably, just a bit more searching was in order or knowing where any other could be.

But if she chose to stay and look around this shop, then she could pick from quite a few clothes that were placed on the shelves and tables in the one room store. The clothes were mostly black, grey, red and brown. Colours of yellow, white and the like were very sparse in the shop. The vysstichi was here to answer any questions, help people pick or even take special orders for special clothing. On the counter a candle was burning and a toy of a doll was placed. How it ended up there was a mysterious or boring question.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

As a native of Har'oloth, Iloncera was already familiar with at least some of the entrances to the Shadow Market, and had some idea of what sort of goods and services one might expect to find there. For right now, however, she was in the market for something quite prosaic and not the least bit contraband: suitable clothes for an...upcoming engagement; one might call it a sort of informal blind date.

Although she had no idea who her 'date' was to be, or even where or when she was to meet him (or her), the young vysstichi was certainly not looking for that person just yet. Iloncera was not about to "dirty her nest" by killing some denizen of Har'oloth who might well be the relative/lover/slave of another who might then become an unwanted and unplanned-for enemy. The young nobless was certain to make her share of enemies in time; however, she was in no rush just yet. Her plan was to seek her quarry on the surface come darkening, probably in the Southern District of Vortex, a place which so far she knew only by reputation, but with which she planned soon to become well-acquainted.

But before then she needed to pick up a few things, one of them being a spare cloak she could discard should it become too messy. The store with the sign marked "[Illegible]...Clothing" seemed as promising a place for this as any, and so she did indeed enter the shop. "How may I help you? Something black?" ventured the male vysstichi who greeted the tall female who now entered.

"Black would be ideal," Iloncera replied, as her magenta eyes surveyed the wares about her appraisingly, "but a suitably dark brown or perhaps even navy blue would probably serve just as well. I am looking for a good-sized hooded cloak in one of those colors, one that is inexpensive, perhaps even one that is flawed or already worn." She thought about stipulating that the cloak needed to be warm, but then realized that was not necessarily the case. If it was particularly cold on the surface, she could simply wear the cheap cloak over the good warm one she already owned. "In addition, I would like some new cleaning-rags, and a waterproof bag or large skin with a volume of, say, five gallons, or twenty liters, or whatever measure you use here." In other words, a bag suitable for transporting a bloody severed head and other body parts, she completed mentally.

She then looked around the store while she awaited the shopkeeper's answer, to see if there were any other customers about. "I gather you get a lot of requests for black clothing items," she ventured by way of small talk. A little chit-chat never hurt when bargaining with shopkeepers. "How long have you had your shop here in the Shadow Market?"
Perhaps you could kill *him*, the bone dagger voice suggested. I'm sure you could get a good discount on your purchases here afterwards if you did that. Ignoring this suggestion, Iloncera continued to look about until she saw the toy next to the candle on the counter. "Do you have a child here, or was that left by one of the customers?" she asked with a friendly smile, indicating the doll on the counter.

[Dragon]

"Of course black would be ideal." The vysstichi simply shook his head a little bit, mumbling something to himself. Black damned city, black clothes, black sky, black skin and black deeds. He really missed yellow and orange sometimes. However he wanted money much more than such colours, even more so he wanted light colours in really rare times when his dark mind was more or less on vacation and the little part was left relaxed and free to ponder about all kinds of things. Now it was that time, even if it would not last long.

He nodded along to Iloncera as he walked showing her items. "There. These ones are still quite good and the least expensive I have. Suitable for wearing everyday, but I wouldn't go to a celebration with them." He gave her a dark blue cloak. Black rags and a dark brown bag. The bag was the only item which looked well made and unused, all others were old and not too well looking for one who could afford at least a little bit of treasure for himself. The bag however had only one suspender. Whether that was to the better or not, everyone could decide individually.

"And yes, yes I do, miss. The black city it is with all the black needs." The vysstichi spoke placing the items on the counter and folding them a little bit, not too neatly. "As for how long I own this shop... quite a few eras indeed. Quite a few. I got it from my father, since he is too weak to work here." The elf said that almost with despite, as if his father had done a bad deed. Maybe he had, it was all a perspective. "8 crowns for the clothes and 15 for the bad. No children and not from a customer." He put the answer to the priestess's question as well as the prices into one speech which made it just a little bit confusing.

The cloak and the other cloth was able to fit into the bag, just as well like a head might if someone would get a ridiculous idea of shopping it off and putting it there. "Have a safe brightening." The shop keeper told Iloncera as she was already on her way out, now holding the doll in his right hand and smiling somehow strange. Now, a few items more and a few crowns less, the vysstichi was able to do her dark deeds and become one hopefully respected and successful priestess. All in due time.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

[ooc: Edited: You *did* mention he didn't say goodbye until I was already on my way out; my bad]

Iloncera scowled at the male whom she felt to be dismissing her without having properly answered her questions. It took her a moment, as she watched him handle the doll as if it were his own toy, to realize that he actually had responded to both of her inquiries. He did not seem to be paying her the sort of attention she felt she warranted, as if he did not care whether he had many customers or not. A strange shopkeeper, this one. Perhaps he did not really want to keep his shop.

"What you have sold me is quite sufficient for now," she said, "but tell me the name by which I should inquire for you, should I again have need of your service. The sign over your storefront reads merely 'Clothing'; such anonymity hardly lends itself to further referrals for business."

Not desiring any further conversation with the shopkeeper now that she had her new clothes, Iloncera headed back to the Kitrye'veresi compound. There at her quarters she would change out of the nice robes she had worn to the Temple that morning, and into her practical travelling clothes. Then, with her new purchases still in her bag, she would go to the House kitchens, where the cooks were already busy preparing this evening's pracenda.

Iloncera was no stranger to those kitchens; many a time as a child she had snuck into them to beg or steal a treat from the slaves who cooked there. Of late, She had visited far less frequently in recent eras, it being considered rather unladylike for a grown vysstichi noble to beg scraps from the cooks. But the nobless was not going there today to weedle goodies; she had a completely different demand to make.

Entering the hot and bustling kitchen area, Iloncera announced to the first slave she encountered her desire to speak to the chef. Her plan was to have one of the cooks show either show her the best way to remove a heart from a large animal such as a pig or a cow, and to commandeer a meat cleaver for her errand.

[Dragon]

OOC: *snickers* Oh and I don't know much of Kitrye'veresi stuff so tell me if I get something wrong.

"Elvanar de Lythan." The vysstichi answered. It was his name, his long long name in his own opinion, too light sounding too. He really hated it sometimes, but he was stuck with it and there was not much he could do about it without putting effort into it. And he was too lazy to put effort into it. Too lazy to get the sign fixed and in general too lazy to make a living, except for the basic works which were vital for survival. Eat, sleep, snooze in the shop and the like. From time to time, sell something too or answer the questions which had to be answered, dismissing the rest.

"Serale, serale." A young vysstichi boy bowed a few times in a hurry as he was cutting lettuce for some meal. Vegetables, weird thing they were. He wasn't exactly young, but for an elf he was young enough. "Go look there." The boy waved a hand in which he held a cleaver, indicating that the chef was a few cupboards and tables away in the same big room. After that he got back to the lettuce chopping with great care as if this was the most important occupation for him. Lucky enough Iloncera was welcomed enough in the kitchen and the three cooks did not mind her as of yet.

There was the vysstichi boy who was dealing with the lettuce, a chef on the other side of the kitchen, and a vysstichi woman dressed in not too clean rags not too far from the boy and making some sort of soup. The chef was also a vysstichi, a fat one and unfitting for the elven forms, but still a vysstichi, with... short hair and a huge belly. He was also wearing white clothes and a white apron, both of them covered in a few stains there and there. Slowly one eye traveled to Iloncera as if she was some sort of... food. A tongue licked the ebony lips and the eye returned to the small piglet which was taken care of with a bloody cleaver, one which was larger than in the boy's hand. Just as well the chef was much older, in his mid-age.

"What is it girl? He asked paying little attention to her. He had things to do after all. He had to finish with the piglet, then there still was another big pig waiting in the cold room. The room looked like an ordinary big kitchen, with pots, ovens and stoves all around. Not to mention the tools and the food there and there. The chef was no mystic, so he had no idea what this girl wanted. Nor did he care so much. He had work for Haya's sake! And she was a disturbance. That was all she was to him. He had people waiting here and Iloncera was far in the line. Of course he could make exceptions to liven up the boring brightening.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

[OOC: I'm pretty sure there is still plenty of license as to how to flesh out the House. You'd have to ask Kalinda to be sure.]

Elvanar de Lythan. Iloncera filed away the name in her mind for now, the name of a shopkeeper who seemed none-too-enthused about his own shop. When the time came for her to start acquiring businesses to run, she would look up this vysstichi, who might well be persuaded to part with the daily burden of obtaining and selling black clothing and re-painting signs for a low price. But all that would have to wait.

After getting home and changing, Iloncera made for the house kitchen. She paused briefly as she entered; the sights, sounds and smells made her hungry, and brought back childhood memories; however, she knew she could not dwell on this long, and returned her concentration to the task at hand. Through the hot steam and pungent smoke of the cluttered and bustling kitchen, the priestess-to-be found the chef, a portly and rather surly middle-aged vysstichi male. The young nobless could see that her timing was good, as he was just in the process of doing exactly what she wanted him to show her how to do: retrieve a heart from a body.

"What is it girl?" he asked, either not knowing who she was or not caring. Displeasure and irritation flashed briefly in the young Hayan-to-be's magenta eyes at this rather rude greeting. You shouldn't put up with that, Bone Dagger growled at the back of her head; This male slob obviously needs to be reminded of his place.

Iloncera had no intention of picking a fight just now; on the other hand, she wasn't going to let the chef's rudeness slip by just like that simply because she needed something. She decided to remind the cook to mind his manners, albeit nicely.

Straightening herself up to her full height once she had looked to ascertain that her head was clear of the various objects hanging from overhead in the crowded kichen, she greeted the male with cool civility: "Vendui, chef. I am Iloncera Sharolath, and although you may have known me before as a child, henceforth you are not to address me as 'girl'.

"But I am not here to quibble over House etiquette." she continued, keeping her tone friendly but businesslike. "What I need from you today is simple. First, I need you to show me the best way to break open a pig's or a cow's ribcage and harvest the heart within. Next, I will need a cleaver with which to do it." She did not embellish on the request, did not excuse or explain it. She saw no reason not to get straight to the point, and doubted the busy chef would, either.

[Dragon]

"Aye, Miss." The chef replied and put his cleaver aside for a second. "To get a heart out eh? Sure, I can show it to you. It is considered delicatess after all. Though I have no idea why you need such knowledge yourself, Miss. But don't bother, don't tell, I know you won't." At that he gave her a brief smile, whatever it meant, and took the cleaver back in his hands with great pleasure. It was good to be a butcher. You knew who you were killing and for what. This life of a chef was not so bad. Not so bad at all.

"Now. The first thing you need to do is break the ribs apart, that will reveal all the organs, including the heart. You take something sharp. A clever will do." Now the chef began cutting the pig's body, starting from neck to the end of the stomach. Some blood started to flow on the table. "I hope you're not afraid of blood, Miss? I would not like you to faint here in this kitchen and carry you with my bloody hands. I really wouldn't. Miss." Then he cut the middle of the ribs where they connected. A young piglet's ribs were not hard to cut either. And as soon as he was done with the cutting, he put the cleaver down on the table. And rubbed his hands for two seconds. "Now is where you need a bit of strength. Not much, but more of a girl."

Then he grabbed to the ribs and pulled them to the sides, most of the organs revealing themselves quite nicely. "Just be careful not to cut yourself in the bones when you do this. Put some cloth over your feminine hands or something, okay Miss?" The man glanced at the girl if she was listening and continued on the process. "Now we just cut the veins and the rest which holds the heart and there you go. All done. nice and easy." He cut out the heart, placed it near the body of the pig and took the cleaver back in his hands.

"You can take a cleaver from over there. Now go, Miss. I have work to do. If you would be so kind, Miss." He waved a hand, not looking at the woman and got back to what he really needed to do with the given meat, hoping that the vysstichi would go away. If not then of course he would continue on helping her, with quiet mumbling under his nose that he would be late with the work which he really needed to do. On the wall where he showed, three cleavers were hanging, varying in size. Four knives and a few other objects.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

Iloncera felt her face grow cool and her stomach curdle somewhat as she saw all the pig's blood and smelled its insides. But she willed herself to breathe deeply and settle down, refusing to let the nausea get the better of her; she would swallow her own vomit while continuing to smile before showing weakness to this male, if it came to that.
Mmmm, vomit... Bone Dagger jeered helpfully. The heat and pungent smells in the kitchen didnt' help, but somehow Iloncera managed to keep her rosyun, and ironically her mental anchor was to force herself to concentrate closely on the very blood and guts that were making her queasy in the first place, while the butcher demonstrated and explained how to extract a heart.

Chop the ribs from the sternum, pull the ribcage apart, and cut loose the major blood vessels. Made sense. In spite of the male vysstich's odd fixation with feminine frailty (could he really have grown up in this place harboring such notions? she wondered) Iloncera was pretty certain she would be up to the task of pulling the ribs aside. She didn't do exercises with double-weighted practice maces until her white hair was all frizzy and damp every day just to look good.

The young vysstichi lady looked closely at the heart the man pulled out. The item itself was anti-climactic; it just looked like a rather unexciting lump of muscle with some tubes attatched and some blood still seeping out. She felt almost let down, even though, now that she thought about it, she wasn't really sure what else she had expected. Iloncera had heard that a man's heart was about the size of one's fist, and before she realized it she clenched her fist and held it up as if to compare it to the pig's heart. Somewhat self-consciously she lowered her hand.

When the male asked her if there were anything else, she responded coolly and matter-of-factly, just managing to keep the lingering tremors of her earlier nausea out of her voice: "No, Mr. Chef, that is all I seek for now. Your assistance has been quite adequate, and I thank you. Vedaust." She was a little put off by his curt dismissal of her. She *was* a lady of the House that guaranteed his livelihood, after all. Bone Dagger muttered various suggestions as to how to "remind" the chef of his place and manners; nonetheless, he *had* given her exactly what she came to him for without demur, and it wasn't as if she actually *wanted* a lot of attention otherwise from the crude, fat-bellied male. With an inner shudder, she hoped he worshiped Jorel or Meephos rather than Haya. The images that came unbidden to Iloncera's imagination made the sight of blood seem almost appetizing by comparison.

With that she turned away from the butchering cook. She looked appraisingly at and then hefted each of the cleavers. Sharpness was less important than weight and force for this task, although an overly-dulled or notched blade could present problems. After a moment she picked the heaviest one.

Once she had her things together, Iloncera would go back to her quarters to freshen up, get some rest, and eat her pracenda. Getting her "donation" would be work best left for the darkness, and while darkness was one commodity that Har'oloth always had in plentiful supply, Iloncera preferred seeking her target on the surface, stranger though she was to its environs. If she wished to amount to anything in her life, to attain any sort of political power, she would have to venture out of her zone of comfort and safety from time to time, and now was one of those times.

Fed and rested, the young scioness of Kitrye'veresi took both of her cloaks, wearing the warmer one, her other new purchases, her elven-steel dagger, and her recently-borrowed cleaver as she headed out towards the upper levels, and thence to the verteces that led to the slums of the Southern Quarter.

She took only 100 Crowns with her, keeping the rest of her funds locked in her vanity in her room, in a drawer amongst her cosmetics and other things she did not expect to need tonight. Having heard from others about the whipping wind that blew about on the surface, she pulled her long, thick white hair back into a tail, which she tied with a deep violet ribbon and then tucked down the back of her cloak. As a concession to her pride in her appearance, she brought her hairbrush with her, in addition to her more utilitarian gear.

She still had a full brightening-and-a-half to select her target and harvest her heart and ear. This trip was primarily to reconnoitre, to get a feel for the lay of the land, and to figure out what sort of targets might present themselves. Until now she had thought about every detail except potentially the most important one: how she was going to incapacitate and kill her "donor". But that would have to wait until she knew what sort of targets she might want to strike. Strangling or slitting the throat of a sleeping vagrant might work -if she could catch one alone.

She had no combat skills, nor special weapons. What she did have was her nightvision and her strength, along with the keen senses and agility of her kind. She worked out regularly -had done so first thing this very brightening, in fact- and she was younger, healthier, and larger than most potential victims she would encounter above. But for right now, she was just looking, unless the perfect opportunity just dropped itself in her lap.

[ooc: it is now evening, and I estimate it will be close to mid-darkening by the time Iloncera gets to the surface. She will, however, be well-rested, having had a few hours' sleep.]

[Dragon]

It was only about five minutes later after Iloncera had left that the chef noticed that she took the cleaver. "She took the cleaver? Boy, did she take the cleaver? She took the cleaver! I can't believe it. She carried it out of the kitchen, instead of using it here! Should have known, should have known. Women. Women I tell you boy! Nothing but torture to us! Never get close to them. Nothing but trouble." The chef mumbled and flailed in the kitchen, with the boy looking stun and grinning sheepishly, having no idea what to say. He rather liked women and found much more than just trouble about them. Perhaps just the old men could not see it.

Iloncera, however, was not the one to see the amusing tirade of curses, instead she was resting, eating and preparing for the real part of the task. The suns had died bellow the horizon, covering Telath in darkness. Perhaps that darkness was not exactly that dark for the vyssitchi who decided to do some hunting. The moons cast their gold rays on the houses of Vortex, usually getting covered by clouds, which made the atmosphere of the city the one which it was rumoured to have. Dark, gloomy and definitely not safe.

And there she walked, in the chosen part of the city - the Southern Quarter. The part which was rarely visited by the lazy guards, not cared for even by the thane, filled with the smell of alchohol, sometimes ordure and quite usually - blood. Her first visible target was a grey cat, the one that ran right across the street and hid under some sort of a half ruined house. Then it was quiet. No one seemed to be around. Then on the next street, there were cheering of three men. And indeed soon she could see three humans, each holding a bottle of some sort and shouting loud words which were suppose to be songs. They flailed to the left and right as their drunken feet carried. Targets? Perhaps.

And they noticed the woman. "Hey pretsie! Wanna have some fun? We have ale! Lots of ale! Come." One after the other shouted 'inviting' suggestions to the vysstichi, trying to come closer to her and have a more decent chat. However if she chose to avoid them, then running a bit away from them and losing them from her sight would not be hard. And then it would be quiet again. For about ten minutes nothing would be on the streets. Just one out of twenty houses had light inside, since most people were asleep.

And then she could hear whispers. "No one loves me. Everybody hates me. Life is a living Aeternia. I don't want such a life. Why... hick... why I could not be a rich king now?" She could barely hear them, but the weird thing was that the whispers and the sobbings were near. Just where? As the voice burst out into real tears, Iloncera was finally able to tell where it came from. There was a man dressed in rags, sitting on the rooftop and a seemingly empty bottle held in his hand. There he was crying and cursing the world. That was all of course if she chose to skip the first trio. There was also lots of Vortex to see, till the night would end.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

Timestamp: Late darkening: 15-16 Immanis, Era XI PF

The Vertex opened up to a strange, wind-blown world the likes of which Iloncera had heard about, but never seen. The roof of the firmament was unimaginably, almost dizzyingly high over the vysstichi's head, and the horizon stretched out in every direction. Granted, she was in the streets of Vortex rather than in open plains, so the horizon was fragmented by buildings, but it was still far, far larger than anything she was used to. No cavern, not even Hon'elgg could ever be this huge.

The wide-open spaces was just one thing for which Iloncera Sharolath had been unprepared. Another was the sight of the stars and moon overhead. She had always imagined them to be just luminous points of light stuck to a very high cavern ceiling; but here in the unlit streets of Vortex, the sky seemed to have depth, and the heavenly bodies seemed to swim about like luminous fish in a dark but limpid pool of aether.

The third thing that caught her by surprise was the wind, which was cold, gusty, and which snatched at her long cloak like a gang of invisible, lecherous ghosts. The tunnels and caves of Har'oloth had their share of drafts, but this wind was both stronger and more unpredictable, and it didn't seem to *come* from anyplace that the young Hayan-in-training could locate.

Stepping out of the Vertex into this strange new world reminded the young nobless of how dangerous her situation was. She was in a strange and by all accounts unsafe quarter of Vortex, alone, and apart from her wits, her confidence, and her fairly imposing size, she had only a dagger and a rather heavy meat-cleaver with which to protect herself, and had no special skill in their use. Iloncera had heard about putting daggers in boots, but when she tried it out herself, she found that the hem of her cloak would get in the way when she tried to retrieve it. The dagger she put up her cloak sleeve, which was loose enough that she could easily retrieve her dagger from it; she tied the sheath with a strip of cloth around her forearm where she could reach it if need be, and just to be sure she had practiced pulling it out quickly a couple times before exiting the vertex. She gave her arm a couple vigorous shakes to make sure the sheath was lashed to her arm well. The cleaver was in her large bag; when the time came she should be able to retrieve it at her leisure. She resolved not to wander too far from the Vertex, and to always keep track of where it was behind her in case she had to beat a retreat.

Nonetheless, with these risks in mind and such precautions as she could take taken, she reminded herself to be confident and not to fear. You are a vysstichi lady, of the House Kitrye'veresi, the bone-dagger voice in the back of her head reminded her, a soon-to-be priestess of Haya. Those who inhabit these slums are lesser beings, dangerous though they might be. They have at least as much to fear from you (and me), as you do from them. Never forget that. You are a fearsome monster to them. Iloncera grinned at Bone Dagger's words. The idea of being feared pleased her. Her house-sisters like to mock her by calling her names like "the Creature that Ate Har'oloth", or, less cleverly: "overgrown, pink-eyed freak". Now she would have a chance to truly live up to such monstrous monikers, stalking the strees of the South Quarter slums bringing death to its hapless denizens.

Noticing the paved but crumbling streets, she decided to pick up a loose cobblestone and put it in her coin-pouch. The resulting contrivance had a good heft, and she was convinced that a vigorous swing of it at somebody's head would do the victim quite a bit of mischief, knocking him out or worse. Even though Iloncera had no formal training or experience in combat or assassination, a vysstichi did not grow up in Har'oloth without developing some resourcefulness in coming up with ways to hurt people.

As Iloncera walked out into the streets, she was first accosted by three drunks who made offers and suggestions that, had any one of them been alone, might have suited her purposes quite well. But the three of them were together, and she needed to get her victim alone. Even if she managed to lure one of them away from the group for some...one-on-one Hayan services, there was the risk that the other two would follow out of curiosity. She did indeed make a point of avoiding contact with them, and moved on to try to find another, perhaps lonelier victim.

The sad drunkard on the roof irritated Iloncera at first with his pathetic whining of loneliness. But the dry, hard voice in her head was quick to recognize and point out the value of such a being: Excellent, said Bone Dagger approvingly, lonely and pathetic is good. He is perfect; get him! An offer of drink, a little feminine charm and promise of possible companionship, and he's yours!

After looking around to make sure she was alone, she called up to the man softly: "Why so sad, sir? Why so unloved and hated? I know of some who might welcome your company. Why don't you come down and talk to me?" She lowered her voice to an inviting, sensual purr, "I'll eve buy you a drink if you show me where you get them. Then we can go someplace where we can be alone and...talk." She beckoned to the man to come down from his rather awkward perch.

[Dragon]

"You!" The voice suddenly grew much louder and much stronger. "You are the biggest filth ever! You! Do you think I do not hear you! I hear that liars voice from ever the moment... the mo..." And then it broke into sobbing and whispers again. Maybe he would have stayed there even longer, till morning came, but he lost his balance over anger and fell down on the street from the roof, lying on the cold cobbled floor as if it was a bed. Only it was not a warm or a comfortable bed, and nor did his face feel to well now. Regardless the drunkard did not seem to care.

He started to stand up with grumbles growing louder. "How dare you lie to me? Why do I deserve lies from you?" Flailing to the sides, unable to keep the balance from alcohol and the damage to his head and whole body, the man was trying to come closer to the woman. As he raised his gaze from the ground into her, Iloncera could finally see that... he could not. The eyes were missing. And there was nothing in their place. "I hear! Ever since that priestess of Jorel hatched my eyes out as if they belonged to her! Ever since I hear much better! and I hear that you are lying to me!"

The man, dressed in rags, a face full of bruises and cuts, which were recent and old was coming closer and closer to her. One of his hands was bleeding and holding a few glass shards. The bottle which he had before crashed when he landed ever so elegantly on the floor. Still he was not going exactly in her direction, for he could never see where exactly the vysstichi was. Nor did he know that the woman was vysstichi. One thing was clear though. He had no luck.

[Iloncera Sharolath]

[ooc: Sorry about the delay. Some nonsense about life and work]

Iloncera started slightly when the drunkard's voice grew suddenly stronger, and hoped that his tirade would not call unwanted attention from those nearby, such as the festive threesome that had just propositioned her a little while ago. She was also surprised by his seemingly unprepared tumble from the roof into the alley, and as he fell she thought for a moment that she might be spared the trouble of using her makeshift cobblestone-and-coinpurse blackjack.

But when the drunk got up, and began to stumble about, brandishing the pathetic remnants of his bottle as if they were his weapon of choice, her mood passed into a mixture of mild amusement and disgust. The man was blind, broken-spirited, inebriated, and, of course, male; Iloncera wondered if Haya would even find him a worthy sacrifice.

"I hear!...ever since I hear much better!" Out of all the drunkard's rant, those are the words that caught Iloncera's interest most. Ears to hear the word of my Goddess, she thought to herself. Perhaps the offering of such an ear would please Haya, after all.

Closing distance with her intended victim would not prove hard; he was, after all, trying to close with her. She was young, nimble, in shape, and apparently better-armed than the man, and possibly taller and stronger as well, even though she was most likely lighter in weight. And she was sober and could see.

Hefting her makeshift bludgeon, Iloncera smiled, confident about how this would turn out. For a moment she pondered dancing around the man, taunting him with her voice until she got bored. But she thought the better of it. This was not a game, and although her opponent's last move had not been auspicious, that did not mean he lacked the ability or strength to harm her.

Readying herself for the (hopefully brief) melee to come, Iloncera called out to the sodden, blind bum, letting a teasing hint of sensuality creep into her voice: "I am over here, sir. Do your ears hear me? Can they find me? My lithe young body waits for your touch. Come closer and touch me if you can. Think of the desires you can fulfill once you have touched me! Feel those desires now!"

As she spoke that last sentence, her voice rose up to an almost ecstatic shout.

She then waited for the man to lunge towards her. Her plan was to wait for him to get within arms reach, then sidestep his attack quickly and swing her cobblestone-weighted coinpurse hard at either his temple, or at the base of skull at the back of his head. If he did not go down quickly, she would do it again until he was out. Swinging the weighed-down bag felt good; she worked out regularly, and spent much time swinging double-weighted mock-weapons in the Kitrye'veresi training room. She had no particular weapons skill, but she did have strength and coordination. As she brought the bag down to smash the man where his skull met the back of his neck, she thought a hasty prayer to Haya to bless her next priestess' endeavor.