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Author Topic: Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event  (Read 143 times)

Offline Ophyonis

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Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event
« on: June 28, 2018, 03:07:35 PM »
This was one of Ophy’s “days off”, which meant that, the same as any Peacekeeper without a beat for the day, that he’d been helping with the construction outside the Hall again. The physical labor of it didn’t bother him much, but given the reinstatement of the Keepers, the principle of it did. Sure, Notkerric would say it was about fostering a good reputation with the Holders as well as the Craftsmen. No matter their newly reformed ranks, they couldn’t throw their weight around all the time. Nor did it give them the right to be holier than thou.

But fuck, what he wouldn’t give for an actual day of rest. Just staying in bed with Domni sounded fucking fantastic, and Ophy missed more than he wanted to admit the greater chances he’d had to just laze around at Fort. There had been more space to cover and more people to watch, but there’d been more Keepers too—which meant they’d had an actual shift rotation that involved not working.

Having anything like that again seemed far off into the future.

His real annoyance of the day was not really about hauling the rock, but about wrangling Onisk at the same time. His young Blue was a feisty thing, and so far he’d quickly learned that keeping the beast on a muzzle was currently the best option. He’d taken for granted how easy Ophysk had been to train, as the Bronze hadn’t required that kind of gear after the first few months. Onisk might be nearing that mark himself, but he was showing no signs of learning not to bite everything.

Eventually, Ophy was determined to teach him if only out of sheer stubbornness; he wasn’t about to be bested by his own fucking wher. And though someday the thing would be well-trained enough to bite only when told, for the time being a muzzle would have to do.

Which meant he spent a fair amount of time fighting to keep it on the Blue too. All morning, it seemed that whenever he’d turned his back, Onisk was pawing at the leather straps to try to get them off his nose. And with Ophysk focused on the task at hand, his handler couldn’t just rely on the Bronze to heavy-handedly command the lower-ranked creature. That, and it was the principle of that too—Ophyonis didn’t want Onisk to obey Ophysk specifically; the annoying little monster would have to learn to obey him first and foremost.

So by the time they broke for lunch, he was already in a bad mood. With a heavy chain attached to Onisk’s harness, he had the Blue heeling just to his left as he waited in line for the food being served from the kitchens. Ophysk was laying under the table by Domni, marking their spot, but Ophy was pissed off and determined to make the Blue listen. Leaving him unattended would surely mean the muzzle would be off and chewed up in a matter of minutes, and he wasn’t about to trust Domni to deal with it.

That, and he didn’t really want to deal with her getting bitten.

Which meant that he had a particularly good view of the events that sparked the whole mess. An argument had started further back in the line, around enough of the curve of the room that he could see who and where it was. Someone (or someones) had tried to cut in line, he thought—and a small group was now heatedly telling another handful of individuals to fuck off. A few of them, he vaguely recognized as members of former gangs, though he’d never known their names.

When the first punch was thrown, he’d decided it wasn’t his problem. There were on-duty Peacekeepers that would end it soon enough. But then the light inside the hall caught on something sharp and metal, the moment before he heard a cry and saw blood blossoming down someone’s front and onto the floor.

For all his flaws when it came to biting, Onisk was a quick learner—they’d already covered the basics of identifying and pinning someone that Ophy picked. So there was no hesitation then—he simply pictured the Blue running over to the individual with the knife and tackling them to the floor. Onisk had already been eager and antsy, picking up on the current of tension that bloomed in the room, and he’d shot off as fast as any runner, with his handler in tow.

Spoiler for OOC:
I think it’s about time there was some kind of fight again, don’t you? :para:

The tl;dr is that some reformed gangs are going at each other with increasing boldness. Peacekeepers will no doubt be quick to try to break it up, but I know how much all of you love a good scuffle. :bird: As far as getting your characters involved (or not), live your dreams. :love: As always, there is an OOC thread you can check into here.
« Last Edit: June 28, 2018, 03:07:55 PM by SirAlahn »

Offline Sanctified's MNPCs

Re: Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event
« Reply #1 on: June 30, 2018, 08:05:48 AM »
2554 // 37
Apprentice Miner and wherhandler of Vlcarsk
Physical Description:
* He’s a sturdily built, albeit short man. Roughly 5’4, but he’ll tell you all day long that he’s much taller. And he seems that way too – his personality makes him seem larger than life.

*Vlcarandis is perpetually dirty. It’s both a curse of his ‘profession’ and a lack of care. He spends so much time in the tunnels and in the dark, he just doesn’t mind the dirt. So his clothes are always dirty, always covered in his work. He detests body odor, but he likes the smell of the tunnels.

*He’s of dark complexion, dark hair, and darker expressions. No one would accuse Vlcarandis of smiling too much.
Serious : He takes his work serious, but he has no ambitions in the craft. He likes working in the tunnels, but it’s always been menial labor for him. He’s never wanted the responsibility of anything more.

Vices : He misses Fort. The tunnels, the gambling, the whores. It was a great life. He was one of the first to move to the Mine Hall and he’s been an avid supporter of things returning to how they were back then.

Act now, think later : No one would promote Vlcarandis even if he wanted it. He’s a bit pig headed, more stubborn than a mountain, and when he thinks he’s right, he can’t be convinced otherwise.

Vlcarandis grew up in Fort to a Smith father who drank a bit too much, but he never saw that as a fault of his father. Rather, he loved the man who ended up introducing him to the gambling halls. They bonded over cards and drinks, and when a debtor came after his father, Vlcarandis none-too-politely showed the man the door to their home with a broken arm. He was recruited into the gang after that and he’s wined and gambled his way through life – happily. He was married, but she died of an illness back at Fort and he’s never quite been the same since. Less patient, less kind, and far more willing to throw himself into the fray.

Intended Outcome:
I mean, he’s gonna be in the thick of it. I doubt anyone is going to outright murder him. But... bring it on.

Vlcarandis had worked through most of the night and into the morning in a collapsed tunnel. It just happened. Not that often, mind. Miners were careful but wood wasn’t something a lot of people were all that eager to go and fetch, so structural supports were few and far between. That didn’t stop them from digging into the mountain though. Minerals were needed. Firestone a demand.

What have you. So collapses happened. It was minor, no one was hurt, but it set the Miners back some and he’d pulled the extra marks to make sure they weren’t so far behind. Besides, Vlcarandis liked the monotonous task of moving rock and setting beams. It was hard, unforgiving work, and he was sore as fuck, but the sense of accomplishment was like a dull high at the base of his skull as he stood in the line for breakfast.

Or was it lunch? What time was it?

Vlcarandis rubbed at his eyes with calloused fingers, smearing the dirt on his face. He was surrounded by a couple of his friends. Gamblers and miners. Fellow former gang members. People he’d known from Fort who had moved to the Mine Hall as soon as the opportunity had allowed. People he played cards with on the off time.

He didn’t hear the start of the fight, but Vlcarandis didn’t need to. He knew the sound of a disagreement, what it meant. Some guy shoved at his friend – Ossimenez – and he saw the glint of a blade.

Then he was awake. No one was going to try and stab his friend. A blue wher out of nowhere tackled the offender but Vlcarandis wasn’t having any of that either.

Neither was Vlcarsk. His big, brown wher gripped the tiny Blue’s wing and hauled the wher off the knife wielder like he was a flit and Vlcarandis’ friends went after the knife weilder. In good ol’ fashion Fort justice.

Vlcarandis was right there with them. Knife or not, the man was going to pay rightly for what he thought he was going to do.

This, of course, set off the knife weilder’s friends to intervene. Good. Vlcarandis needed a nice fight to really wake him up.
All MNPCs listed here, as well as their threads. All powerplay allowed by any staff.

Offline Ryneppa

Re: Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event
« Reply #2 on: July 01, 2018, 09:54:29 PM »
Ryneppa sensed the building tension before the flicker of the knife even caught her eye, and her hand twitched towards her own blade which she had strapped against her calf when they'd first set foot upon the island. It had been much easier to swipe things back then with the hustle and bustle of the entire Weyr moving in.

Her foot quickly went to rest itself upon Ynesk's neck, pushing the wher firmly into the ground, warning him in no uncertain terms, that he would not be joining the fight. As much as her own boiling blood belied the order. Eppask, ever the dutiful one, placed his body in front of the brutish brown. If the brown wanted to disobey Ryneppa's orders, he'd have to get through the more experienced bronze first.

If this had been Fort, Ryneppa would have loved to dive into the fray, feeling the thrill of a fight once again. But this hall was a lot more exposed than the alley's and dingy houses of Fort had ever been. And if she got herself and her siblings put on the Peacekeeper's map... well they'd probably kill her before anyone else could.

Fucking familial loyalty.

Instead, the lithe woman leant back in her chair, crossed her arms across her chest, and rested both her feet upon her now nearly vibrating brown wher's back. If Ynesk failed this test, Ryneppa's foot was perfectly placed to come down heavily upon the leather leash attached to the brown's muzzle. For the wher's sake, she hoped he didn't fail this test.

Offline Ophyonis

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Re: Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event
« Reply #3 on: July 02, 2018, 10:17:16 PM »
The quick little Blue wasn’t even aware of the presence of bigger whers in the vicinity at first. His only attention had been on the man that his handler had identified, intent on bringing him down and subduing him—even if he wasn’t really old enough yet to understand just how important that was to Ophy’s job. All Onisk knew was that he liked getting physical. Had he not been wearing his muzzle already, he surely would have bitten the man he landed on, bearing him to the ground with a growl that was just as challenging as it was happy.

He didn’t know Vlcarsk or any other opponent was nearby until the Brown quite bodily hauled him off the man he had downed. With teeth tearing through membrane and puncturing the fleshier arm of the wing, he actually screamed then—not just a sound of pain, but of anger too, as he rounded on Vlcarsk with the intention of fighting a where he didn’t know was several times his size.

No matter that he was still only a few months. The tiny little thing just knew it was time for a fight.

Another one of the things that Onisk had trouble with was filtering what passed between his bond with Opyhonis. So as the unfamiliar Brown wher latched onto his Blue, Ophy growled through the flare of pain that erupted in his shoulder and upper arm. It didn’t matter that the injury hadn’t actually happened to him; with Onisk’s pain and rage (but conspicuous lack of fear) on full blast, that got transmitted to.

His original trajectory had been for the man with the knife. But as things truly started to break off into a fight, just as good and messy as any that had happened back at Fort, Ophy’s priorities changed. No one would accuse him of being soft, but the things he’d bonded to held a certain importance to him. And no matter how much trouble he might get in later for not moving to break up the fight right away… he didn’t care.

As he reached Onisk and the Brown wher, he waded right in with no hesitation. Likewise, there was no reluctance in his effort to disentangle them—grabbing Onisk by the harness and punching Vlcarsk as hard as he could right in the snout, where they were more sensitive compared to thicker, more muscled areas. Hopefully it would make the Brown let go, but if Onisk ended up sacrificing a wing, so be it.

Whers didn’t need them to fly. He could live without it.

At the back of his mind, Ophy could tell Ophysk had gotten to his feet, a growl seeming to rise in his own chest just as it did in the Bronze’s. But that wher at least listened, and when his handler wordlessly told him to stay put, near Domni, he didn’t move. Even if he was reluctant not to get involved.

Spoiler for OOC:
I never thought I’d get to have a character punch a wher. XD I don’t want either of them fatally injured, but bring it on otherwise. I’m not anticipating either will leave this unscathed.
« Last Edit: July 02, 2018, 10:17:46 PM by SirAlahn »

Offline Kyrrin

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Re: Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event
« Reply #4 on: July 16, 2018, 05:45:41 AM »
One dining hall was the same as any other really when you're hungry. That thought was something that Kyrrin would rue as a scuffle started a few bodies behind her. I mean, she'd been thinking in terms of food provided and places to sit. In terms of civility and calm here should have been, well, calm, when compared to some of her other haunts. Seriously though, is eating in peace too much to ask for? She huffed, overtly ignoring the fight, although her body was turned to keep them in sight and her hand rested on her belt knife.

Kyrrinsk snorted, sitting back on her haunches, wings flaring along with a mental sending of concern/surprise/anticipation at the same time as somebody stepped back with a scream. The belt knife was out of it's sheathe in a moment as Kyrrin put her back against the wall.

She didn't expect a small blue wher to barrel into the fray but she had to give his handler credit for such a speedy response and for accurate targeting as the knife wielder went down.

The brown joining in was what did it. Rule one: don't bring a knife to a fistfight. Rule two: Don't attack a smaller wher that's doing its job. The sharding browns handler is an idiot, the blue had everything under control. Kyrrinsk growled and Kyrrin didn't even have to speak, the green had already worked out what her handler wanted, lunging towards the brown to help the smaller wher get free.

Kyrrin was left behind by a few steps and had only enough free time to register the irony of the situation: the blues handler was a sharding peacekeeper, and possibly more important; did he just punch a wher?


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