fALK AND VELLUM (as in nobody else post pls tyvm)

[malina]

@Vellum
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Taj-ul-Mamlaka. The jewel of the Serkit Shahnate, an empire which stretched over thousands of miles of land; whose reach claimed all from the shores of the sea to the deserts of the undying. For being the Shah's personal stronghold, however, Rami al-Sayyad found it to be quite underwhelming. It still had its fair share of street rats and he'd caught more than one picking at his jewelry despite his arrival only two days ago. Of course, he hadn't actually entered the inner city just yet - his hunting partner had yet to arrive. His light pockets reminded him of his dire situation; inns weren't cheap. If his fellow Hashashin, Emre al-Sayyad, did not arrive in another day or two, Rami would have to either sleep in the streets or sell some of his accessories. Which he was loath to do - he held the jewels to his heart like a lover. Even if some of the "rubies" were just mere garnets.

Rami walked along the bazaar with far more swagger than his coin allowed him to own. At least the selections here were good. Fruits from all over, exotic furs, perfumes, sweetmeats - and this was only the outskirts of Taj-ul-Mamlaka. His height let him tower over the crowd, letting him inspect even the more busier stalls.
"Lady with the jewels! Bashir here has opal rings for half-price! Why don't you come take a look?"
Rami smiled deviously. He'd often used his appearance to better his haggling skills. Perhaps there would be a ring or two that his handful of denars could afford.

As he inspected the goods, he couldn't help but notice the merchant open and shut his mouth intermittently. It was his height that bothered people so - or so it usually went. Sometimes, Rami would use their "rudeness" and make a scene to embarrass them further. It would usually end up in slashed prices, unless the seller was more experienced with con-artists such as himself.
"This ring," Rami slipped it on his index finger, "where was it from?"

"Ah, my lady has a good eye for quality!" The merchant was back in his element. "The silver was made in the far reaches of Khersan, while the opal comes from the mines of Sehlmai. See here - that hint of purple just peeking its head through that lovely red colour. Very rare - it's a seasonal thing."

"So it's authentic, then?"

"Of course, of course! Bashir only stocks the most valued gems, all for the market's lowest prices! For a lovely face like yourself, I'd be willing to shave off a few denars off the final price."

"Which is?"

"Sixty denars."

Rami turned his hand to the sun, admiring the way the ring glinted. The opal was truly beautiful and he wished that the sun would set for him to compare the two. However, the price-tag was beyond his budget by two or three handfuls. Rami made a great show of sighing and pouting before slipping the ring off back onto the hopeful merchant's table. He made no response; his interest seemed extinguished now that he knew Rami could not afford it. Clearly, this was no novice.

"If you sell Bashir one of your lovely headpieces, I am sure your ladyship would have enough to buy the ring," he added on hopefully.

Rami's eyes tightened before his hands flew up to his turban. He'd affixed a great many jewels onto the cloth, many of which had cost over two hundred rupees, let alone denars. Who did this merchant think he was fooling? Rami was no naive servant girl; he knew the market prices no matter how pretty a ring was.
"I think not," he snapped. "Good day."

"Bashir is here every day!" The merchant called out hopefully to his retreating back before going back to calling out the women in the street.
____________________________________________________________________________

When midday hit the streets of Taj-ul-Mamlaka, Rami had bought himself a piece of flatbread, over-cooked lamb, and a small bottle of wine for lunch. Sat underneath a tree, he watched the traders flow in and out of the city gates. Were any of them Emre al-Sayyad, perhaps? He flipped the few coins he had remaining as he ate. The shade felt good after a long morning of browsing the stalls.

"Emre..." he muttered.
His mentor had warned him of this particular Hashashin. Supposedly, Emre was an elf. His kind were already rare enough in the Shahnate - what kind of elf would join an organization meant for hunting down his own kind? Sure, elves weren't ghuls nor djinn nor nasnas. But they were monsters yet, weren't they? Some of his friends had sworn that they'd seen elves sell human bones - gnawed on at the ends. At the very least, Rami thought, they were supernatural. And this one elf was supernaturally late.

"How long am I going to have to wait?"
Rami threw the empty bottle aside, earning him a glare as it crunched underneath a trading caravan's wheel. His mentor hadn't told him much else beyond the fact that Emre was short. A fact, considering their races' height, that was virtually useless. He'd already mistaken two elves and one child for Emre already - they hadn't responded well.
"At least tell me what clothes he's wearing."

At times like these, Rami almost regretted leaving the Oracles in the first place. For all their faults, they at least had order. He'd never had to wait two minutes for clients to come and go. His meals were served at exactly midday, not a second more or less. But the Hashashins? His mentor had been a very, "go-at-his-own-pace," kinda man. He'd tell Rami to ready their horses by dusk and come the next morning, telling him of the wonderful sleep he'd had. Asking him if he'd be willing to analyze what his dreams had meant. And when Rami had reproached him, his mentor had merely pulled the "building patience" card. He had almost quit right then and there.

As much as he'd have liked to however, Rami was honour-bound to stay with the Hashashins until his death. It was a favour he owed to a friend he had wronged. Rami considered himself lucky that this was all that had been asked of him after all that he'd done. He shook his head. Memories landed on him like flies on a camel's ass - if it wasn't his wrongdoings, it was the days he'd spent training to become an Oracle. He still remembered the first time he was coached to dance. He'd questioned how this helped them divine their deities' messages from the stars.
"Organizations need funding," they'd replied. "Now, again. You want to please your customers, do you not?"

Rami frowned at the bandages covering his feet. The years spent at the Oracles' temples had not been kind to his body.

"Sir, please! Anything you can spare - Bethelem graces the generous."

Rami smiled. It seemed that beggars throughout the Shahnate employed the same tricks. Snatch a child, take off a hand or two - sympathy was a powerful seller. He watched as the trader doled out a few denars before shaking his head.
"Aren't you merchants supposed to smarter than that?"

The man looked up, his brow furrowed. The children snatched the coins out of his hand before disappearing into the nearby alley.

"Yes, scram, you weasels!" His cheeks flushed, whether it was from wine or the sun was unknown.

"They're children!" The trader walked over, signalling to his brethren to carry on without him. The caravan rolled on dutifully, the mules heaving to pull great loads of spices.

"They're weasels. The denars you just gave them," Rami scoffed, "just went into the pockets of whoever's been pimping them out."

The man's eyes hardened. "You don't have children of your own, do you?"

Rami let out a peal of laughter. What he would give to reveal the truth to this man.
"You can give me some coins too, if you're just going to throw them away like -"
His cheek smarted something awful - an all too familiar feeling for Rami.

"You have quite the remarkable tongue for a woman. By Bethelem, did your father never teach you the virtues of a woman?" He tucked his hand back into his sleeve. "Beauty fades. You may find yourself a crone not before long - I suggest you start showing proper respect."

Grabbing his batan, Rami ripped it open to reveal his bare torso. Were the clothes he were wearing not enough? Had the Oracles disfigured him to this point?
"I'm a man, idiot."

 

[Vellum]

"Emre Al-Sayyad..." an elven man murmured under his breath, the name still foreign to him. It was strange to try and connect the idea that the name belonged to him now, even months after his Naming Ceremony. 'Ears' still felt like it belonged to him more than 'Emre', and the Al-Sayyad name felt like steel in his spine. He'd survived the years leading up to this, a job in the Shah's palace would be simple.

Two days past when he was supposed to have arrived, Emre was aware that he needed to work quickly to find his hunting partner. He'd been given enough of a head start so that he had three days between when he was supposed to reach the city, and when he was supposed to meet the Shah, and two of those three had already been burned.

He could blame it on being harassed to solve minor problems in the villages that he passed, being asked to banish mischievous little spirits from the houses for a few extra coins. And while this wouldn't be a lie, these little side trips took him little more than a few hours.

The truth was that he simply couldn't read a map to save his life, and was too stubborn to stop and ask someone else to help him get his bearings again. In the end, his hard head had earned him two days down washed into the river and a raging headache that felt rather like some tiny spirit attempting to hammer its way out of his skull.

Emre had little time to bother admiring the architecture of the city, instead heading straight for the markets. It was not difficult to find someone selling semi-chilled sweet wine and a handful of dried fruits. It was more difficult to find someone willing to sell to an elf, and he quickly found himself growing irritated.

It was laughably easy to slip a handful of dried dates into his pocket, and a pastry of some sort as well. The drink was more difficult, and in the end he opted instead for sitting on the wall of a relatively clean well and drinking water from the bucket hoisted from there. The dates filled him up well enough, between them and the water he soon found himself recovering enough to begin wondering where to begin the search for his partner.

Supposedly, he would be working with a man named Rami. Once an oracle, who proved that old habits died hard. His mentor had mentioned rubies as something of an identifying mark, although Emre thought it rather pertinent to point out that he knew multiple gems came in red--and yet had no idea how to tell these red gems apart.

The elf popped another date into his mouth thoughtfully, staring toward two men in the midst of an argument. His ears twitched, angling to better eavesdrop (he truly had no shame) on the conversation. The older man had slapped the younger, clearly mistaking him for a woman. Emre wondered if all humans had a difficult time telling each other apart, or if he was just exceptionally used to divining gender where one wasn't always clear.

A face just like his own, a mirror image. A tribute to Nyreen, two halves of the same whole--
His teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheek savagely, metallic blood mixing with the taste of dates. Don't let those ghosts bother you, not now.

Emre skulked over to the fighting men, staying on the side lines. A vulture ready to sweep in and clean up the remains. "That would be more impressive if you were a woman." he commented to the jeweled man, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing between the two of them.

"He's right, you know. Those children run with the best con-men. I would know." he said to the trader, grinning wryly and pushing his hair back to clearly show off one ear. "If you really want to do something good, try not hitting women you think have spoken out of their turn." he added, voice dripping with contempt.

It was a useless battle, Emre knew. Until they saw a woman covered in another's blood, they wouldn't learn anything. Although it was also possible that his mentor being a woman left him a little biased.

 

[malina]

Too eloquent to be a child, yet too small to be a man - this was an elf.

Rami's suspicions were confirmed when he saw the stranger's pointed ears. For whatever reason, elf ears had a tendency to twitch around wildly and this was how he knew that this elf was no fake. But could it be Emre? After all, how many elves could there be? However, now wasn't the time to worry about such things. His cheek still stung and with the elf's sudden intervention, there was no telling how the merchant would react. After all, if he was willing to slap what he'd thought had been a woman, just what would he do to the elf?
His assailant's spit grounded him in the reality of the situation.

"Scoundrels upon scoundrels," the trader spoke. "An elf and a cross-dresser. I wash my hands of you."
He uttered a quick prayer, gestured towards the heavens, and left.

Rami spit at his retreating figure.

Still, even with the insults he'd earned, it was the best reaction that he could have hoped for. Rami had no weapons on his body; his musket had been left in his inn room. And while his stature was taller than most men, it was the difference between the willow and the oak - Rami's strength had been robbed by the Oracles. He rubbed the saliva off his face, internally screaming at the state of his blue robe. For how many coins had he bought this? The once sleek material was ruined - God knew how hard it was to remove any stains off this batan.
"Damn," he muttered. "Another wardrobe ruined."

He could not lie - a small part of him was mad at the elf. Though Rami had been the instigator of this whole mess, blaming himself was not apart of his customs. "If Emre hadn't been late," he thought, "then I wouldn't have had to chase off those rats in the first place."
He stood up and brushed the dirt off his clothes. Compared to Rami, the elf was laughably small. He barely reached half-way up Rami's torso, if even.
"Couldn't be much help in a fight," he mused.

"So," Rami reached out and pinched an ear, "you're really an elf. I'd normally say that it'd be some coincidence if you weren't Emre but this city seems to be a haven for your peoples. I've already seen two of you."
It hadn't fallen off - this really was a genuine elf.

"Emre al-Sayyad would know this question: of what properties does one take on if he imbibes the powder of the Karkadan?"

 

[Vellum]

Emre tittered in amusement, watching the man retreat. Of course he would back off when his opposition suddenly became a fight rather than bullying. The other man muttered about his clothing, causing Emre to turn to eye the dirt stains that were causing him woe. He shrugged, not seeing why they were suddenly unusable. A dirt stain wasn't the end of the world, but then again, he wore primarily black. All colors were disguised by his preference.

He let out a yelp that quickly morphed into a snarl at the rough treatment of his ear, yanking out of the human's grip and protectively covering the offended tip. "I'm loathe to inform you, but our inevitable dying out hasn't fully occurred and we're not what you would call uncommon!" he responded irritably.

It was only then that the name he kept saying sank in as his own.

Either this was a very good actor, or the very man he was looking for. Rami, the hunter he was supposed to be meeting. The description matched up, he supposed. Still, the chances were laughably low to have run into him simply by being in the right place at the right time.

"You pinched me and then expect me to answer your interrogation?" he demanded, ears twitched downwards in displeasure. "Karkadan horn powder can be used to make blades and rounds impotent." he answered the question, albeit with a tone that suggested he didn't want to.

Finally dropping his hand from his ear, but still staying well out of reach, Emre crossed his arms over his chest and scowled up at the other man. "Clearly, you're Rami, then. Should I ask you some inane question to prove that?"

 

[malina]

If it wasn't Emre al-Sayyad, it was at least someone who'd been trained like him. Either one was good enough for Rami; this mission would be his to complete in the end.
"No question but," he pinched Emre's nose this time, "you can help me retrieve my weapon. Come."
Rami ignored his elven companion's complaints and set off at a brisk pace. The markets seemed to be no less crowded during midday than morning - if anything, it was more packed. At this rate, Emre would be lost in the sea of bodies and searching for the elf was not what Rami planned to be doing for the rest of the day. After all, it had taken him two days just to arrive. It wouldn't do to make the Shah angry - not with the Hashashins' already declining reputations.

"You. In front."
Rami grabbed Emre's arm before forcefully guiding him through the crowd.
"And don't steal anything, elf. I don't have the money to bride these guards."
A lie, of course. If Rami really wanted to, he could have paid off three men to overlook a murder. Much more if it wasn't for the fact that they were in the Shahnate's crown city. The question wasn't how much money he had - it was how willing he was to part with his jewels.

"Rethink your choice? Bashir-"
"Not today." Rami ignored the wistful look on the stall owner's face. "Khersan silver is for fish-wives, anyway! Good day!"
He smiled at the sight of the merchant's spluttering. The truth of what he'd said didn't matter - it was just how many people had heard him say so. The next time Rami visited, perhaps the prices would be dropped. He really had loved that opal, Khersan silver or no.

Finally, the Hashashins broke through the crowd. Rami relinquished his grip on Emre before heading down a beaten path. Brothels, taverns, and fortune-tellers were abundant here and many a man could be found selling some form of spice-seed. Despite its seedy nature, Rami felt that its inns were (as far as inns went) of good quality. At least the one he was staying at. Unlike some of the other establishments, this one at least had guards - you got what you paid for. Rambunctious atmosphere aside, Rami didn't have to worry about any of his belongings being stolen - as long as he had the money required for the guards' special treatment.

The Snake's Crowning. Personally, Rami would have chosen a different name for an inn. Whoever wanted to sleep with snakes? He'd heard that the tavern-keep had a great deal of stories as to how it was christened - each with a different ending. He'd never spent enough time to listen; there was much better company than an old innkeeper. Gossiping old men aside, it served cheap yet effective liquor and its beds were free from mites. The only problem was the thirty denars or so that he'd been paying for each night -he gave Emre a glance- and the illegal gambling going on in the common room. God only knew how much Rami had lost playing dice and He damned him for it.

"Well, we're here. Be a gentleman now and open the door for the lady," Rami laughed. "Unless you're scared they won't let you in?"
Truthfully, Rami had no idea if elves were allowed in the premises or not. Many establishments had banned them for their reputations as thieves. Others for bad luck. He didn't know what compelled him to keep picking on Emre the way he did - he'd been in the elf's situation for most his life; he knew the struggle of being under someone's thumb.
"Don't make me wait any longer," Rami snapped. "Two days were quite enough. The Shah's expecting us."

 

[Vellum]

Emre looked at his companion blandly, wondering if he was being malicious or truly didn't know the extent of which elves were allowed on premises. In a nice inn, perhaps. But in an inn with a gambling den within, as well as being in a part of town that entertained fortune tellers and their sort? He'd be surprised if half their customer base wasn't elven.

Paired with the rough handling, and apparent lack of knowledge about elves in general, Emre was inclined to believe that his companion was simply ignorant, and just happened to sound like he was being vindictive. As much as he disliked it, the elven man opened the door as asked. "I sincerely hope you wont be relying upon me so heavily during the mission. Your dead weight would be a bit much for me to drag." he was commented quietly.

Stepping in behind Rami, Emre gazed around the inn. It seemed very similar to all the other's he'd been in during his life, smelling of many different people and humming with life. Perhaps a little cleaner than the ones he frequented, but still a dingy place to rest one's head before they moved on. An elven maid caught his attention, dark skinned and ignored by all the humans around her.

If he were looking for information, he would start with her, Emre noted. "Look, Rami. Another elf!" he pointed the woman out, "I told you that we weren't uncommon." he added, with a grin that was sharp edged. If the human was going to be unpleasant, he had no problems returning the attitude. At least until it was proven that they could both act like they hadn't been raised by hyenas.

 

[malina]

"Thieves and maids," Rami countered. "Your peoples are truly gifted, Emre."
He waved off an approaching guard; there was no need to pay for their security anymore. All Rami needed to do was to fetch his supplies and it was off to the Shah's courtyards. Where he'd be rewarded with a hefty sum for chasing out whatever devilish creature had been plaguing the monarch. Hopefully, his mentors wouldn't demand too high of a tax from him. Though perhaps, Rami thought, they wouldn't notice if he lied about the actual sum of the reward.

"Rami!" The gambling table had noticed him, then. "Where's my money?"
Shit. Although Rami was well aware of the debts he'd incurred to the table, he'd thought that he would be far enough away before they took back what they were owed.
"I thought you said four days, Jahid. It's only been one." Rami made to move towards the stairs but his path was blocked by his former "buddies".

"I did say four days. Would've kept it that way too." The gambler looked down and upon spotting Emre, ground his teeth. Jahid gripped Rami's turban before shoving him to the ground. "You rat - sneaking out on us?"
"No!" he protested. He scrambled back to his feet, only to get shoved deeper into the inn. Back towards the corner where the gambling took place - back to a group of disgruntled people he owed money to. "Jahid ibn Kazim al-Fahd - you get your hands off me. You said four days!"

"No?" One of Jahid's men pulled the elven maid towards him. "Tell Rami what you told me."
Rami's stomach dropped. He was sure that he hadn't said anything to her directly but there was a faint memory in the back of his head - one of her cleaning his room whilst Rami had been drunk.
Upon her silence, a knife was pulled. "He's been waiting for an elf. And after-"
"And after, he's leaving." Jahid concluded. He pushed the maid away, a victorious grin etched on his face. "So. Not only are you a thief, but you're a liar to boot!"

Rami looked for the guards but they were nowhere to be seen. The patrons had cleared out of the bar and into the room - they knew the consequences of debts unpaid. The weight of the coins that Rami had left felt immensely heavy - if only he hadn't shrugged off the guards when he'd first entered!
"You're really going to trust an elf?" Rami sneered. If anything else, he could always hope to appeal at their ignorance.
"Yes, actually," Jahid ripped off a garnet from Rami's turban. "Najwa here actually keeps her word. Unlike you. Ruby?"
"It's mine-" Rami made for his assailant's throat before being promptly restrained by the others at the gambling table.

In the meanwhile, Najwa had managed to make herself scarce. She made her way towards the elf that Rami had come in with.
"C'mon - I know a place in the kitchen where you can hide. After they're done with Rami, you're probably next. Why was he waiting for you, anyway?"
After working at The Snake's Crowning for as long as she'd had, nothing fazed her anymore. Some drunk idiot would come in, lose all their savings, and Najwa would wash off the blood the next day. It annoyed her how many trips she'd need to make to the well in order to scrub the floor clean - wooden floors seemed to have an appetite for violence.

 

[Vellum]

Emre took a step away from the scene folding out, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. Tensed up, ready to spring away from an incoming attack at a moment's notice. It seems my partner has incurred debts in their short stay in the city, he noted silently, eyes scanning the collectors. All human, no surprise. Gamblers, if their fidgety hands said anything. Interested in money, not blood, but willing to shed it.

The elven woman approached, Najwa they called her, gently trying to coax him away. "I'd like to see them try." he replied, and then gently turned to her, nudging her towards the kitchens. "They will likely be very angry after I'm through here, and may come after you. I'd make yourself scarce for a few hours." he told her, knowing how men enjoyed to place the blame when their egos were wounded.

Pulling himself free of the maid, Emre swaggered his way up to the group. "Surely we can work this out like civilized men?" he asked over their shouts, "After all, I'm fairly sure that gambling is frowned upon in the majority of your religions--we elves, we're all gamblers but it's practically venerated by our kind." he continued, keeping his voice friendly but still ready to spring into action if required.

"What is the debt incurred? I'll pay part of it right now, and then Rami will pay you what remains once we've finished out job in the Shah's Palace." he offered, dropping the Shah's name heavily. He glanced at Rami, hoping that the other Hashashin would play along.

 

[malina]

Elves, humans - blood flowed the same in all men. Najwa shook her head and made for cover as Emre went on to confront the gamblers. It'd been a while since she'd last had to dispose of an elf's body; losing one of her kin never felt right.

In the meanwhile, jewels stopped flying through the air as Emre faced the group. A few of the gamblers looked sheepish for a while - but only a while. Although it was true that Bethelem's many teachings had declared gambling to be an act of sacrilege, these men had already strayed from the three paths years ago. Nay, these were far from believers - a disturbing trend for the capital of the Shahnate to host men like these. They did not seem fazed about Emre's relationship to the Shah; if anything, they mocked it. Many drunkards had claimed to be the second cousin of who and who and the men had learned that without evidence, one could say near anything.

"The Shah's palace?" Jahid sneered. "And I suppose I'm the Grand Wazier."
"And I'm an Emir!" A weedy looking man piped in, only to be met with a smattering of jeers.
"Well, no matter," Jahid resumed plucking off Rami's accessories at his luxury. "Take what you can from the elf. If he's anything like Rami, he'll have something worthwhile for us. Right?"
"Fuck. You." Rami spat. He had his piercing tugged as a response, eliciting a new assortment of curses from him.
The predicament they were in grew larger as he noticed three men move from their seats towards Emre, ready to take what valuables he possessed. And as little he cared for his companion, Rami didn't want to see his blood on his hands.

"Wait! Jahid," he began, "are not these jewels enough for my debts! That headpiece alone is worth two, no four handfuls of rupees!"
"How can I trust a liar? We'll see what the bazaar says afterwards, now won't we?"
Rami pulled at his hands with no success. "I'm a Hashashin! What Emre told you about the Shah is true. He will have your head for this!"
"You're not a very good liar, are you?"
Rami strained his head but he could not see nor hear what Emre was doing. An argument or a fight - either one was plausible. As more of his wealth was stripped away, the clearer his frantic thoughts became until - the Royal Proclamation.

"In my room! I have proof! The Shah's seal itself!"
"Or a weapon. You think I'm stupid enough to let you go up there?"
They were interrupted by the weedy looking man from before. "It can't hurt to check, Jahid. If they are what they claim then-"
"Your heads-" Rami let in a sharp intake of breath as he got jabbed in the stomach.
"Beheaded. We've heard." Jahid scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "Then Kashif," he kicked the naysayer, "you go up there and check, if you're so nervous."

As the man scrambled from his seat, Rami couldn't help but think of a whipped dog. Clearly, this was the outcast of the group - perhaps that information would come in handy at another time. In the present, however, he could only focus on keeping both his and Emre's skin intact. In the minutes that it took for Kashif to return, Rami tried to get a glimpse of his partner to no avail. Was he safe? How much gold had been stolen from him already? How much was he carrying?

"Jahid, Jahid!" His weaselly sounding voice drifted down the stairs followed shortly by the man himself. "Look!"
The gambler snatched the parchment, shushed Rami's growled "careful", and read.
"... Summoned to the court by the Shah himself, indeed." He cocked an eyebrow. "So you were telling the truth, for once."
"I told-"
"Actually, your elf friend here told me this. You're still a liar in my books." Redirecting his attention towards Emre, the gambler spoke. "So. Emre al-Sayyad. A Hashashin, is it? You'll have to forgive my friends and I - we merely assumed the worst qualities from you. Our most gracious apologies, young hunter. Fleas from a dog," he slapped Rami, "spread. You'll learn to cull the company you keep."

"And now, onto the topic of payment. Rami's jewelry, as fine as it is -stolen?- won't do. Just how much is the Shah willing to pay you?"

 

[Vellum]

Emre grimaced--that had been far less effective than he had hoped. His head swung around to stare down the approaching three, pulling a dagger from its sheath at his hip. It was a simple thing without ornamentation, but wicked sharp and in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. "Imagine how embarrassing it'll be once I kick your asses. Try to explain to your wives how an elf bested you in three to one combat," he laughed.

They rushed, and he side stepped. The silver lining was that he was well trained, healthy, and sober. His opponents were civilians of questionable health, age, and sobriety. The odds were definitely in his favor. Emre slammed his elbow into the back of the nearest one's head as he passed. Not a knock out blow, but enough to keep him off balance for a moment. The other two rounded, coming at him again. Emre spared a glance in Rami's direction, noting that he wasn't dead yet.

Small blessings.

The two came at him once more. The larger one caught the elf in the shoulder and sent them both tumbling to the ground. Emre snarled angrily, writhing. With him pinned, the human started going through his pockets in search of his coin purse. Distracted and guard down, Emre brought his knee up into the sensitive pressure point on the inside of the human's thigh. His reward was a shout, and the chance to slide his dagger into an non-essential area of muscle.

While not strictly necessary, it felt like a reasonable bit of revenge. Shoving the man off him, the elf got to his feet again and pointed his now bloody blade in the direction of the other two attackers. "Don't fucking touch me." he snarled, watching as another human (this one looked distinctly sheepish, like he expected to be kicked at any moment) handed over the Shah's orders to his boss.

He narrowed his eyes at the leader as he all but groveled. "You've harassed officers of the Hashashin. Not just one, but two. Not only verbally but physically attacked us, while unprovoked. You're lucky that I don't turn you in, or gut you myself." he sneered, drawing up to his full (albeit still unimpressive) height. "And you will return all the jewels that you have taken from my partner." he added.

 

[malina]

Though Jahid would have slain any other elf, even he knew not to tread on the Sultan's toes. Despite the tensions that fractured the Shahnate, the capital city remained the capital city. Even with it's slow degradation - it wasn't quite far along gone yet. Not for men like him.
"Let him go." He spat.

Rami brushed off his clothes with what dignity he had left. He made for his jewels, scooping them into his pockets. He'd wear them later - for now, Rami was focused on getting out while Jahid was restrained by fear.
"Stay here," he aimed his words at his companion. "I need to get something."

His room held his most prized possession - his musket. The great equalizer, the maker had called it. Rami loved it. He loved the idea that for all the training the Royal Mamlukes held, just one pull of his instrument would spell death for them. So it was to his great relief that he found his musket still safely wrapped under its coverings.
"That's a relief," he muttered. He'd been afraid that it would have been damaged in the search for the Seal.

After hoisting the gun onto his shoulder, Rami picked up his pack and came back downstairs.
"Next time you come here, you won't have the Sultan's protection." It seemed that Jahid's fear was leaving him.

"I won't need it." Rami winked and patted his musket. He doubted that Jahid would even know what it was - even the Emirs were slow to pick up new innovations, let alone lowly gamblers. He opened the door before clucking his tongue at Emre.
"To the Shah now, shall we? I've no horse; we'd get there by night if we start walking now."

 

[Vellum]

Emre's eyes flicked to Rami, giving a tiny nod of agreement before turning back to Jahid. He grinned at the man, all sharp fangs and malevolence. "If you're going to stage an ambush, you'll need more people next time. This was pretty pathetic, and frankly, offensive." he remarked. With Rami gone, Emre's skin crawled. Even while indisposed, having someone around to watch his back was a luxury he didn't take for granted.

That said, the elf quietly seethed at his companion as much as he did at the gamblers. Emre hesitated for a moment before following Rami out the door. There was no point in pointing out that he wasn't a dog and didn't appreciate being called like one. This partnership would be easier if he resigned himself to it.

The elf allowed them to make some distance from the inn, allowing the ambient noise of the city to lull him back into a calmer state. If he'd ever complained about the miasma of scents that was so common in the city, he rescinded the comment. There was nothing sweeter, especially after one nearly died at the hands of debt collectors. "Naturally, we wont be paying them." he said to Rami. "I don't know about you, but I'm not giving up a split of my profits to those sons of whores."

"That said, what the hell were you thinking? I don't care about gambling. It's not the moral part--you could stain yourself soot colored with all your sins before I actually gave a damn about your religious well-being. You know that thing about not trusting elves? 'Cause we're all poor and find fierce pleasure in making human lives more difficult? It comes from things like this! You're a human. It caused that elven girl no lost sleep to rat you out to the highest bidder." he explained, gesturing more wildly as he got worked up.

((Started using color for dialogue. Easier for referencing later. I'm not sure what colors your background is, so feel free to yell at me if you need me to change the dialogue color to something darker.))

 

[malina]

"Of course we won't be paying them," Rami snapped. "If anything, I'll kill them once we're done." Now that they were safely away from the inn, some of his old cockiness had entered him again. His prideful nature was soured by the fact that he'd been overpowered so easily.

"And I would stop nagging, if I were you. It's not befit for a man, elf though you may be." Rami turned on his heel before crouching to look into Emre's eyes.
"Just what is it with you? Always snapping at my heels. Are you a woman?" Before waiting for a response, Rami answered his own question. "No? Then stop acting like one."

Taking the time Emre would use to undoubtedly complain at him some more, he reached into his pockets and began reattaching his gems one by one. He examined each and every piece with a careful eye, making sure that they had not been damaged by their rough treatment. Most important were his numerous headpieces, which he loved for their ability to turn heads wherever he walked. It was to be expected, as after all, he'd paid in more than gold for them.

"Done talking? Good." Whatever Emre had said to him in response, Rami hadn't really paid attention to. No doubt the elf had called him whatever names he'd seen fit - well, Rami had heard his fair share of insults in the past. Rami reached into his bag and examined himself with a small mirror before standing up again. His preening complete, Rami was ready to walk the rest of the way in silence.

"Oh yes. Emre? We're going to see the Shah, as you know. I do hope you can control your... violent tendencies. That is to say," he turned around with a scowl, "make sure you wipe off that blood before we arrive. We aren't animals."


(( I didn't really even know like we could change the background TBH. Blue works fine for me! Do you want me to like colour code as well or are you fine? ))

 

[Vellum]

((Nah, you're fine. It was mostly for me, since I have the memory of a goldfish and color coding helps me quickly refer to previous stuff.))

Emre stood there for a moment, baffled by the response. He'd been taunted plenty of times in his life, but nobody had quite managed to get under his skin quite as much as this human with his high and mighty disposition and patronizing tone. He itched with the impulse to lunge at the other hunter. It wouldn't be too difficult to tell his superiors and the Shah that the other man had never appeared. The wild dogs would dispose of the carcass for him.

The idea was cathartic, at least. Emre plastered on a smile, able to form some kind of retort. "I doubt you've been around enough women in your lifetime to make such assumptions." he sneered, swiping the back of his hand across his cheek. The blood came away tacky, only smeared by the action. If he was violent, so be it. There were worse things to be.

Shooting Rami a nasty look, he breezed past the scowling human. "I'm sure the Shah will live if my appearance isn't up to your standards. He didn't hire me to look pretty, he hired me to get a job done. You, on the other hand? Who knows." he replied, stopping on the main market street. He didn't feel any particular impulse to deal with the crowds, nor did he want anymore unfortunate accidents to happen. They'd wasted enough time.

"Come." he called over his shoulder, breaking into a jog down another small side street. "We'll skirt the slums instead. It's faster." The part of town in question started rather abruptly with a turn down an even smaller street. Trash gathered against buildings like dirty snow drifts, stray dogs scampered around in packs of twos and threes. Gaunt faces stared at them from shanty houses, sunken, hungry eyes following the two strange men with curiosity.

Emre slowed back down, falling in close to Rami's side. "Don't linger, Red." he nagged, "I didn't go through all that work to keep your shiny baubles for some urchin to nick them."

 

[malina]

Rami narrowed his eyes. The little elf was leading him through these slums on purpose, he was sure. He picked up his pace, tiptoeing around the garbage that littered the street. It reeked something awful and it brought up both bile and unwanted memories. The constant bickering between the two didn't help matters either. It was like a little game they played, like dogs nipping each other back and forth. And Rami knew from experience that eventually, the play would turn violent.
"No one's going to nick anything from me." He hoisted his musket just a little higher on his shoulder. "I can take care of myself."

As they walked along the rather beaten path, Rami couldn't help but feel the stares on his being. It was the jewels that they were after, he was sure. How many days would one ruby feed a family in this neighbourhood, he wondered. An approaching dog broke off his thoughts and he immediately made to ward off the mangy beast. One threatening "back off" later, Rami was free to continue unmolested by any stray animals. More religious people than he would have signed for Bethelem's grace upon touching these mangy things but Rami wasn't worried of heavenly retribution; his mind rested more on the fleas.

"The squalor of this place," he complained. "I would have expected an urchin like you to be familiar with this... thing. But why'd you have to drag me along?"
Despite his snooty words, Rami was well familiar with the slums himself. Mixed in with his many clients had been poor men from districts much like this. They had always been the worst customers too - rough, vulgar, and either too poor or too cheap for good tips. Sometimes it got to the point where he'd had to be accompanied by an extra Keeper or two - poverty caused rowdy men. Sure, perhaps once in a while a romantic would pop up. Rami found it hard to remember any though; flowers found it difficult to live among weeds.

"Look," he gestured towards a child curled up with a dog, "they don't think twice to mingle with dogs here. Disgusting."

He tapped the girl awake with his foot before reprimanding her.
"Didn't anyone tell you how dirty dogs are? Surely, even you must have some pride in being human."
Frowning, the child simply motioned for coin. Her eyes strayed towards the finery Rami had adorned generously upon himself. He saw them light up in greed and he backed off from her grubby hands.

"You're not getting anything from me."

 

[Vellum]

Emre sighed and glanced heavenward, as if the skies held some answer. Seeing none, he dropped back to earth and looked at Rami. "It was faster. Weaving through crowds is good for stealing, less so when you want to get somewhere fast." he replied with a tone that suggested this were common knowledge.

It didn't matter much, the human was already reprimanding some girl about her sleeping choices. "Who is nagging like a woman now?" Emre commented, "Like a particularly fussy mother, even. Many dogs are better company than people--they offer the girl warmth and comfort without expecting anything in return. I've known a few that even brought their owner things they'd caught."

He bent down, scratching behind one of the dog's ears before handing the little girl what was left of his dates from before and a coin for good measure. "Share it with your friends." he nodded towards the dogs as they sat up, eyes trained on the dried fruits. He stood up again and headed off again.

"I didn't expect you to notice that I was a slummer. I thought that I had sufficiently scrubbed myself of that on my Naming Day." he commented. Even a world away from his childhood, the ghost liked to follow him like his shadow, it seemed. No matter how hard he worked to be as good as his brothers and sisters, to make the Al-Sayyad name mean something, he'd just be another pair of pointed ears. "My slum was nicer than this one, I think. I barely remember it anymore." he admitted.

 

[malina]

"Ah yes. Rats and fleas and all sorts of other delightful things. Only an elf could appreciate a mutt's gifts so."
Rami shook his head in distaste as he witnessed his partner give up a coin to the beggar child. No doubt that money would go to her father or whoever had put her out here in the first place. Not to mention the dates - dogs ate scraps and bones, not stall food. Still, he didn't hang around to bother the girl any longer. Emre had already set off, after all.

It was rather distracting having to listen to Emre talk about his previous life while Rami tried to avoid stepping on waste piles every other step he took. At times, he'd have hoist up his batan to avoid the robe like coat from touching the garbage on the ground. Still, when Emre brought up the fact that he was a slummer, he couldn't help but smile.
It wasn't as if Rami had caught up on any particular signs, per se. In fact, Rami had not known anything concrete about Emre to begin with - only that he was an elf. And chances were high that he came from a slum; Rami found it amusing to see how often stereotypes proved themselves.

"Good," he spoke. "I don't particularly want to hear about another slum, as nice as it may have been."
All Rami wanted to do at the moment was to reach the Shah's palace and take a nice bath. The air was hot down here and Rami felt dirty even breathing, as if his tongue was getting coated with a thick helping of bacteria. The cramped pathways didn't help matters and as they walked further along, Rami felt as if he was getting squeezed into a tighter and tighter tube. He glanced at his smaller companion and wondered if his size made it more comfortable to walk these gutter-ways. It was then he noticed the dried bloodstain on Emre's cheek - he hadn't listened back there after all.

"Your nickname must have been 'Stubborn'," Rami scowled. Having no rag with him, he wet one sleeve of his ruined silk coat. "Do note that your appearance reflects on mine. Hold still."

 

[Vellum]

"Rats don't taste as bad as you'd think." Emre replied, "And I think you'd do well to learn appreciate these dirty places. The monsters we hunt breed here, in the dark corners of shacks and hearts. Also, nests like to crop up around here. I nearly fell into one, during training." he sounded nearly fond of the memory, as if it were amusing to nearly be eaten by ghouls when one was only fourteen.

The buildings began to thin out, transitioning into the middle class and upper class homes as the snaked through the streets. Emre almost giggled at the realization that for once, he wasn't the most notable thing. A human in a dirty silken coat was more likely to be remembered than an elf in all black. The two of them, however, would likely be entirely too conspicuous. There was little that could be done about it, though. And it wasn't like they were on the run from anyone (yet).

"They remarked on that, yes. Although they preferred derogatory terms. Children can be vicious when they want to insult someone." he replied, scowling at having his face cleaned the way someone might a child's. But in some way, it also felt like a victory. "What'd they call you? Fussy-pants?" he taunted back, aware that it lacked any sting. "Will you also be trying to tame my hair?"

(( Funnily enough, my mom's great dane, Mongo, LOVES fruit. Especially clementines. He also likes grapefruit and apples.

Spoiler alert, these were just kids and their version of nasty names were probably something rly stupid like "dummy face" b/c I have a 12 year old sibling and their insults are terrible.))

 

[malina]

The blood was coming off slowly but surely. It stained his sleeve but considering that the batan had already been ruined Rami didn't think too much of it. He had more clothes in his pack anyway, at least enough that losing one wouldn't hurt... too much.
"Yes, those terrifying children." He spoke dryly and wet another portion of the silk. "Now stop talking. This is hard enough without you moving around."

When Emre disregarded his latest orders, Rami decided to punish him by rubbing especially hard on the bloodstain. It had the desirable effect of both causing discomfort to the elf and removing the unseemly gore on his face. Rami stood back up, grimacing slightly before rubbing his knees. To hide the blood on his coat, Rami rolled up both his sleeves. It would suffice for a decent first impression, he hoped. Although he did carry a bayonet on his musket, Rami doubted that cutting off the sleeves would serve his aesthetic any better.

"I doubt that the Shah's own barber could tame this mane," he remarked. His hand snaked out to muss at the elf's pixie cut. "Definitely not."
He set off at a brisk pace once more. Now that they were sufficiently out of the slums, Rami felt much more at ease. The air felt fresher here, perfumed with whatever fragrances the women of this neighbourhood used. It smelled like money.

He hadn't brought up what his fellow apprentices had called him. Though Emre seemed curious enough, it was a secret that for now, Rami would keep to himself. It wasn't what he would call a "painful" memory, per se, but it was sufficiently uncomfortable enough that he didn't like to dwell on it. Nicknames based on his appearance he could handle - generally. This one? Rami frowned. Suffice to say, he wouldn't be changing in front of any men anymore, anytime soon. It reminded him too much of what he'd lost.

"That redness should disappear by the time we arrive," Rami commented as he glanced down at the elf.
He felt slightly hungry now and hoped that their arrival would be met with food. He wondered what the Shah's table would taste like - few guests had the honour of even looking at it. But they were here to fulfill a very personal request, were they not? The crackling sound of fire turned his head to the houses they passed. If he could guess at it, river-fish seemed to be the main course tonight. Normally he'd consider it street food but in these neighbourhoods, Rami guessed that the waters these fish came from were of a much higher degree than the rest of the country.

From a distance, he could see the great gates of the palace loom ahead. Rami reached down into his pack before cursing.
"Stop here a second," he complained. His fingers scrabbled among the make-up, potions, shot, and the other junk he carried. None of them, however, was the parchment upon which the Shah's Royal Seal had been stamped on.
"I can't believe this," he spat. "That idiot Jahid. I've forgotten my invitation at that stupid inn."
Cursing, he straightened up and sighed. The palace was just a few streets away at this point and yet Rami was no closer to it than he was at the inn. He glanced over to Emre.

"Well, I do hope that you have a copy. After all, there's two Hashashins here."
If the elf did indeed carry an invitation, Rami hoped to piggyback upon it to enter the palace. Otherwise, he wasn't sure what else to do. Perhaps they could convince the Royal Guards of their legitimacy but Rami personally doubted it. How many beggars had shaken those gates, claiming to be this or that? Surely the guards would have grown jaded by now.

 

[Vellum]

Emre grinned wolfishly, seemingly proud of his mess of dark curls. "I'd bite them if they tried." he agreed. Hair brushes helped, at least until he started moving around. If he were a child's doll, sat in a corner and made to look pretty rather than to serve a function, perhaps he would care more about what his hair looked like. Thankfully, despite having the appearance of one of the beautiful and expensive dolls that rich children were gifted with, he was far from one such toy.

'What a strange string of thought,' he noted, steering himself away from children's toys. Instead, he took in their surroundings. Taller structures, and more sturdy. If the river flooded, these houses were less likely to be carried away with the current. His nose wrinkled, ears tilting with mild irritation at the overly sweet scent. As if they were trying to cover the smell of the nearby fish market (and succeeding only through drowning it with an equally overwhelming smell).

Emre frowned as Rami dug through his bag, anxiety spiking. Something stolen would no doubt be his fault, considering the company. Or worse yet, their distraction by the girl and her dogs was a ruse for something to be stolen by a co-conspirator. It was a strange sort of relief that it was just their invitation, the very thing that would prove that they were there to do the job they'd been hired to do. At least the invitation was stolen by a very specific person, and he couldn't be blamed.

The elf chewed nervously at his lip, checking through his pockets and belt. "I'm not sure?" he replied, "They may have given you our only one since you're the human and--" he cut off with a soft noise of relief. "No, no. I have mine. Right here." he pulled out a cylinder with sparse designs but good craftsmanship. Meant to save documents from water, dirt, and tears--and Emre hadn't bought it for himself. It was a gift after the third contract that he'd ruined by jumping into a river, ditch, or puddle.

He pulled the invitation out of it's protective shell and passed it to Rami. "Let's hope that we can do a better job of talking our way into the palace than we did talking ourselves out of the inn, yes?" he joked weakly.

((IM NOT DEAD. I LIVE. I'm so so so sorry. Between being busy and writers block, this post was kicking my ass for some reason or another. I have no excuse other than my continued existence as a terrible human being.))