J'VANN
J'vann was getting used to receiving strange looks on this planet, but nobody had dropped what they were carrying and gawked at him before. Well he supposed he couldn't blame them, he did look...unusual. It probably wasn't common for the woman to have visitors out here at all, with her home built so far out into the fields, let alone one as unusual as J'vann.
He was close to eight feet tall, broad shouldered and packed all over with muscle. Long blonde hair flowed down his back, one streak of it starting at his left temple not golden but pure white. He wore a brown robe with wide metal shoulder plates, each stamped with a symbol of a many-branched tree. His skin was a pale, almost whitish green and he had scales growing around his eyes and nose.
“Excuse me,” he asked the woman in voice that was nothing but soft and pleasant. “Can you point me the way to Tragam?”
“I...oh,” the woman said, kneeling down and picking up the sack she'd dropped. “Yes, yes of course I can. I'm sorry I thought you were...I thought you were someone else, for just a moment there.”
“It is quite alright,” J'vann said beatifically. “I am used to people being surprised by my appearance, wherever I go. My mother was a Zandir.”
“I didn't know the lizards could have kids with a human,” the woman said, before slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh I'm sorry I've done it again! I don't mean no insult, and I don't want you to think I was shocked before just because you're not a human.”
“As I said before it is perfectly alright,” J'vann told her. “But I do have a meeting to get too in Tragam.”
“Well you're on the right road,” the woman said. “Just keep going that way and you'll run right into it. The road gets a little bumpy though, so watch your tires.”
“I don't have a vehicle,” J'vann said.
“You're walking!?” the woman said incredulously.
“I do not get easily tired,” J'vann said.
“I believe it,” she replied, looking up and down his muscular frame. “That robe you're wearing, are you a priest? One of those tree-priests?”
“I am a Devotee of Yggdrasil, yes,” J'vann said.
“Can you spare a little time then?” the woman asked. “I've always sworn by the Ancient Cross, but we had a man working here who prayed to iggz, iggd...to your tree there. He died a few months ago, and we didn't know what to do with him. Could you come and say a prayer over him?”
“Of course,” J'vann said. “What has been done with the body?”
“We buried him out back,” the woman said. “Best we could do.”
“Is he buried somewhere it would be inconvenient for a tree to grow?” J'vann said. “It is traditional to plant one over the body, but if he is someplace that would obstruct the running of your farm... ”
“Oh,” the woman said thoughtfully. “No, no I don't see how planting a tree there would cause much ruckus.”
“Then lead me to him and I will begin.” The woman nodded, and led him out behind the house. Men and women—her family, employees, or knowing small communities like this probably both—gave him their own strange looks, but since he was in the company of their employer and/or matriarch everyone quickly returned to their work. J'vann was led to a small mound between the farmhouse yard and the fields.
“Need anything special?” she asked him.
“No,” J'vann said. “I have everything I need. You obviously cared about this man.”
“Not especially,” the old woman said, looking away. “Not any more than the rest of these idiots. But he worked for me when he died, and anyone deserves to be buried proper. What he thinks is proper.”
J'vann smiled, kneeling down over the mount and pressing the fingers of his right hand flat against the palm of his left. He bowed his head in a moment of silent prayer, then pulled his hands apart. Green Auram glowed between them, and in the center of it something started to grow, wriggling and twisting until it expanded into a hard, rounded pit. He plunged the pit into the dirt, green Auram still dancing around his fingers, and a few seconds later a sprout with two leaves shot up from the ground.
“Well isn't that a thing,” the woman said. “I never seen anybody use Auram like that before.”
“It is a rare skill,” J'vann said. “I am sure your friend will rest here quite comfortably. Thank you for the directions, I should get started. My traveling companion disappeared somewhere around here just before we spoke and I am afraid he is getting into trouble.”
“Under no circumstances,” the woman said. “I can't let you walk all the way to Tragam. Jevo will take you in the truck, you'll be there in an hour. You worry about finding your friend and he'll take you both.” She hurried off towards the farmhouse, no doubt to find Jevo. J'vann said another prayer over the mound and stood, dusting himself off.
“Sweet!” an impish voice said excitedly. “You got us a ride! I was getting tired of walking.”
“Rimni,” J'vann sighed. He hadn't felt his companion sneak up, but that didn't surprise him in the slightest. That was how it always seemed to happen. Somehow Rimni had gotten behind him and now lounged on a nearby bale of hay, one hand tucked up behind his head and the other holding a half eaten apple. A human boy, ten or so years old, with an unruly mass of reddish brown hair. In fact “unruly” was the best description of everything about him, from the black hooded jacket he wore to the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“J'vann!” Rimni said. “Why do you always say my name like it's a curse?”
“I do not,” J'vann said. “I say it as a prayer for strength and patience. Please tell me you did not steal anything from these kind people.”
“I didn't!” Rimni insisted.
“Then were did you get that apple?”
“I'm not sure it's an apple,” Rimni shrugged and tool another bite. “I think it's something local, but it's pretty close to one. Aw come on don't look at me like that, It was only one apple they won't miss it.”
“You still did not have the right,” J'vann said. “I did not pray over this man's grave because I wanted rides or apples.”
“I know I know,” Rimni said. “But it gets so boring! It's been days since we left the capital and we've been walking the whole time!”
“Actually I have been walking the whole time,” J'vann said. “You have mostly been riding on my shoulders, when you were not off causing trouble.”
“Yeah well you're bigger than me and you're part tree,” Rimni said, finishing his apple and tossing the core aside. “Anyway, I'm glad we stopped for you to pray over the stiff.”
“Rimni...” J'vann said.
“What? I am!” Rimni looked hurt. “That's exactly the kind of thing Knights ought to do on their adventures. And the two of us are Knights! Just like in the old stories.”
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“Yes,” J'vann nodded. “Yes, we are. Though I do sometimes wonder if you are rooting for the right side in all those old stories.”
Rimni only giggled, and pulled a second apple out of his pocket.
SASHA
“N'dyrvokk!”
It was a word that did not translate well into Standard, but the venom with which it was said get the general gist across. Anger. Frustration. The specifics about mothers doing unsavory things with wild beasts and others in attendance didn't matter, in any language a curse is a curse and you can usually tell a curse when it's spoken.
Sashadar Tulvakaro was not only cursing, she was pounding the steering wheel of her now useless ground car. It had been close to useless when she bought it, a dilapidated heap of metal that had nothing to recommend it besides being immediately available and, above all else, cheap. Sasha wasn't a cheap person, but she'd used up most of the money she'd had getting to Trego from her home in Shadd. And now someone had shot a hole in the engine. A slug, not any kind of laser, which was actually worse news. On a machine slugs did more collateral damage than most lasers, not that she knew anything about fixing ground cars in the first place. She climbed out of the ground car and walked off the road, into the fields of grain she'd been driving through since yesterday. It wasn't long before she saw the two men carrying the gun. Their eyes brightened when she looked at her, and she did her best not to try and roll hers.
Sometimes, men told her she was beautiful. She didn't mind the compliment, but it also wasn't an air she had pursued. She was a child of the Hunter Clans of Shadd, famous throughout the universe since time immemorial, and she would prefer any beauty others found in her to come from her skill rather than a bottle of scent.
Sasha had reddish tan skin and chestnut brown hair tied behind her head in a simple short ponytail. She had the fit body of an acrobat, and moved with a similar grace. That natural grace had always been a part of her, and she'd been proud when on her eleventh birthday she'd been given the hunter name Sashadar Tulvakaro, “footfalls of wolf paws on freshly fallen snow.” She wore a simple leather shirt and pants, tight to the body—obviously for efficiency, not eroticism—with thicker pads at the knees, elbows, and shoulders. Something with a straight metal handle sticking out was tucked into a triangular holster at her hip. More than anything she gave off the impression of focus, as if she was intensely away of everything going on around her, ready to respond to any change at a moment's notice.
The men she approached were looking at her chest, because of course they were. She made her gaze remain steely and focused despite her eyeballs desperate urge to roll.
They were not very impressive men. Both were large, and wearing brownish yellow clothes with leather patches that might have been a uniform or just might be filthy. They each carried a gun hung by a shoulder strap and she got a sense of Auram about them, not uncommon in people who'd spent a lot of their time fighting. And these men had obviously fought. She could smell it on them, the same way she'd found them by smelling the smoke from their gun. They smelled like blood and desperation, but they didn't smell desperate. They smelled like other people's desperation, which made Sasha's hackles go up. In a battle, or even just a fight, both sides were desperate. The only way to smell like blood and only another's desperation was to have not enemies, but victims.
“Hey lookie here,” One of the big men said. Up close she could see they looked similar. Brothers, or maybe even fraternal twins. The biggest difference between them is that one had his hair cut to a stripe down the middle of his head, and the other was bald but had a bushy beard. It was Beard who had spoken. “Don't she just look hot enough to melt rocks?”
“Damn straight,” Stripe agreed. “Love to see just how warm she can get.”
Sasha couldn't help it anymore, she rolled her eyes. It didn't fit the steely eyed fury she was going for when she got out of the car, but come on.
“Who the hell are you and why did you shoot my car?” She demanded.
“Well I guess it doesn't look like you're from around here,” Beard said. “So I guess you didn't know. We're collecting tolls.”
“Yeah,” Stripe laughed. “Anybody coming down this road gotta pay up.”
“Right right,” Sasha sighed. How far should she play along with this? Not at all, she finally decided. She didn't feel like playing along with this at all. “This is the part where I say there weren't any signs, and you say some other bearshit, and then you say I could pay the toll by having sex with one of you. That's what we're doing right?”
The two of them looked at each other. Beard shrugged.
“Lemme have her first,” Beard said. “I like the smart ones.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Sasha said. “The smart ones are the ones who managed not to meet you. Look, I'm not having sex with you. With either of you. How did you guys get out here, did you have a vehicle? Ground car, air car?”
“Got a ground car,” Stripe said, grinning widely. “We can show you the back seat.”
“Preserve me,” Sasha groaned, putting a hand over her face. “Alright idiots, I'm taking your car as payment for the one you shot. If you try to stop me I will break, at minimum, one leg on each of you. You guys are definitely shakedown artists, and from the smell you're probably a lot worse, but I don't even know where the proper authorities to bring you to are and I don't like unnecessary killing. So get out of the way, give me your ground car, and then move someplace else because as soon as I find some authorities I'm gonna tell them you're out here.”
“Oh noooo!” Beard laughed. “She's gonna tell the authorities.”
“Like the big bad authorities are gonna touch us,” Stripe laughed too. They were eerily in synch. Probably twins. “We work for the Brothers Sloth!”
“The who?” Sasha couldn't stop herself from asking, even though she already knew the answer. Someone who at least thought they were a big powerful noise in the underworld on this tiny little farm planet.
“The guys who make the Enforcers run away and hide,” Beard said. “Now I'm thinking...”
“Of better uses for my mouth?” Sasha sighed. They both stared at her blankly. “That's what you were going to say, right? Look if your boss is really so big and tough could you at least try to not be so...so basic? If I read you guys in a novel I'd drop it down a shredder, because there's no way the plot gets good after your lousy dialogue.”
“Alright,” Stripe snarled, stepping forward. “I think we had all the fun here we're gonna get. Now be a guuuuhhhhhkkkk!!!”
Sasha had yanked the weapon from her belt and jammed the back of the round metal handle into Stripes gut. As he stumbled back clutching his fresh bruise she twisted the handle, making the weapon extend to it's full length. She planted the but of the spear in the ground, the point coming just a little bit above her head. The blade erupted from a metal sculpted head of a snarling wolf, as if it were breathing sharpened steel out onto the enemy. The metal had a slight sheen of auram.
“Hey!” Beard said. “What the hell is that weapon?”
“Well it's full name is Vulkeren Noshma Gyldyavu,” Sasha said. “That's “the enraged wolf rends his enemies and protects the pack,” if you don't speak the Gudwallam. I usually just call it my spear. It's Auram-forged and it's been handed down from master hunter to apprentice for generations, along with my Regalia. Note how I emphasize the word. I don't get the sense either of you idiots has one of those. So give this up as a bad fight and walk away. Last warning.”
“Bullshit!” Stripe snarled. “Fancy spear or no fancy spear there's no way this bitch has a Regalia!”
“Yeah anybody can say that,” Beard agreed. “Let's get her.”
Sunbursts appeared in their eyes. They were weak things, only a few lines, but they indicated the two men had called on the Auram in their bodies and were about to get serious. Shylldra called on her own, sunbursts covering her own irises as she crouched down into a fighting stance, the spear held at her side. The two men charged, and Sasha became a blur of whirling metal, each motion followed by a meaty smack and an ugly cracking popping noise. When it was done Sasha stood where the two men had been, while Beard and Stripe rolled on the floor in agony.
“What the hell!” Beard yelled, his uninjured arm flailing. Stripe just groaned in pain, blood seeping from his lips over a purplish-black jaw that hung off at an angle.
“I said one leg each was a minimum,” Sasha told them. “For shooting my car, for pissing me off, for threatening to rape me and for substandard villain lines I broke, between the two of you, four legs, three arms, and one jaw. Maybe it's a little excessive, but I'm the one setting the prices. Now where's...oh I see your ground car it's right through here.”
Sasha pushed aside some grain to find the ground car sitting in the field. It seemed like they'd driven it into the crop without caring how much grain—and therefore how much product—they rode over and trampled, but that was only to be expected. It wasn't like they came off as big planners in the first place, and besides it wasn't their grain. She'd try and only drive over what they already trampled on the way out, maybe minimize the damage.
“You BITCH!” Beard roared behind her, and she turned. Probably hoping not to damage the body they found so attractive neither of them had used their guns on her when they attacked, but Beard brought his up and fired. With her auram up a regular bullet couldn't do a damn thing to her, but she decided to play it fancy anyway. She raised her spear and spun it, every bullet bouncing off the whirling shaft. Beard passed out from pain and exertion.
“Well that was a waste of time,” Sasha said. “I'll send somebody to pick you guys up when I oh DAMMIT!”
The ground car she had been intending to take from the two men now had a set of smoking holes in its engine, right where she'd diverted their gunfire while she was trying to be fancy. She said a few more curses in the hunter's tongue, then stepped over her unconscious opponents to walk back to the road. If she hurried she could probably make the village before sunset, if she'd been given good directions. Collapsing her spear and tucking it in her belt and saving one last curse for herself for acting like an idiot she headed off along the seeming endless stretch of grain.