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victorythroughequality:
Tanyuu backed up a few steps with a quiet chuckle. “Clearly,” she looked up at the stranger with a small smile. This was the first person outside of the constable that she had actively interacted with.
“Amazing isn’t it? This library is massive…I feel like I could get lost in here for days……” she giggled, the delicate features of her face scrunching up in harmony with her laughter, “And I have.” Tanyuu balanced a crutch under her right arm, extending it forward.
“My name is Tanyuu….of the Karibusa Clan. I’m a 4th generational scribe and mushi-master in training…..well……I was before I came here….” her expression was suddenly much more sullen, though smoothed and calm.
He wasn’t sure what to make of her quick friendliness. That was a bit of a rarity here in Obsian, he had found. Most people’s initial reaction to meeting someone new, especially under startling circumstances, was either hostility or caution, rarely affability.
“It’s an impressive library, yes. I can’t help but wonder where they got all the books. Written by people who’ve been here for years and years, perhaps.” His eyes traveled to her crutch as she shifted it, wondering what she needed it for. An injured leg, obviously, but how was it injured? People who had sustained some sort of injury, especially when it was inflicted by another, often had bitterness that could be taken advantage of.
“I am Amon,’ he said, simply, providing nothing more of a name. And he had nothing more of a name. “Before i came here, I was...a teacher.” He noted how her face changed, again wondering what it could mean. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize your former profession.”
Creature of Habit||CLOSED RP
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Amon was skilled at reading people; mostly in crowds, but also individuals. It was therefore clear to him that his conversational partner here was ashamed and frustrated by their predicament. That was good for him. People who were ashamed of themselves and frustrated by their situations were more willing to accept offers the would make them part of a group. Amon had always offered people a place to belong. A family.
“Do you know anyone in this city?” He asked, in rebuttal. “If I wanted to harm you, I think I could have done so already. We’re alone in this isolated park and you’ve demonstrated to me that, in such close proximity, I would have the advantage in any combat. But do not let my masked appearance lead you to think I am untrustworthy; I wear this,” he brought his hand up to gesture towards his mask. “to hide my scars, nothing more. I seek to help people; equality of all people is, and has always been, my ultimate goal."
A tinge of passion had begun to creep into his voice; he clearly believed what he was saying, and felt powerfully about these ideals.
Swing and a Miss | @victorythroughequality
victorythroughequality:
They could defend themselves, but not wish a stick? Amon’s eyes narrowed. In his world, that would mean they were a bender. But what did it mean in this world? In their world? He continued with suspicion, though he noted with approval how great his conversational partner’s self-control was.
“Then why were you practicing?” Amon asked. “If you can defend yourself perfectly without your…stick, then why come to this park and swing it around anyway?” He continued on, answering his own question on their behalf. “It’s because you aren’t a child; you do know how the world works. And you know that knowing only a few ways to defend yourself is folly; if you aren’t skilled in multiple arts, then you can be placed at the mercy of a skilled opponent with a reliable counter to your methods.”
Amon’s pursuit of this person was almost instinctive. In Republic City, he had taken in those who were desperate and in need of defending. They were at the mercy of the vile bending oligarchy and all they needed was someone willing to listen and to help. This situation was not the same, but neither was it wholly different.
“I can help you,” he declared. “If your pride will allow it.”
It was a valid question, and one Dáithí would’ve been unable to answer even if they’d have been given a chance. Thank the gods their ears weren’t nearly as expressive as their mother’s– the flush of frustrated embarrassment was probably plenty evident already. Knowing that wasn’t helping at all, either. They’d changed their mind: their mother’s court was probably filled with glee right now because of this… whole situation.
Even if Dáithí hadn’t been quite so distracted, they almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed the stranger’s suspicion.
They were sullenly silent for a moment, scowling at the ground between the two of them, both hands gripping the quarterstaff tighter than could ever be necessary, shoulders hunched. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have a point: it was entirely possible that Dáithí could be silenced, or be too exhausted to cast spells, and then where would they be? But was it likely that they’d ever have to rely on just… hitting someone? They knew plenty of spells that didn’t need to be spoken, so silencing didn’t matter, and they always had their cantrips to fall back on. Even so, being physically weak was, after all, a weakness. One they were probably overly focusing on, but, still.
They looked up at that, doubtfully. Plenty of people had tried to train them, and Dáimhín, but only one of them had come away with any real skill. Thank goodness sorcerers didn’t need to be trained in magic, really. Who knew what they’d be worth without magic.
“…How?” They shook their head, raising one hand from the staff, palm out. “No, I– I don’t even know you.” They didn’t feel like there was anything… untoward in the offer, but they hadn’t suspected anything had been off about jobs before, until they were about to be killed. Better safe than sorry, right?
#obsianrp#fancysorcerer#Swing and a Miss#It's fine!#There's nothing wrong with few dialogue if the situation doesn't call for a ton
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Amon had spent a respectable amount of time in Obsian now, and yet there was still so much that he didn’t know. That bothered him; his victories came from his ability to know more than his opponents. His ability to plan around every eventuality that could be planned around and stay one step ahead. In this city, though, the mysterious Gentry were the one’s who were always one step ahead.
His quest for knowledge, predictably, brought him to the library. It seemed to be the only one in the city; or at least the only one that he had managed to find, hard as it was to miss. Amon never did anything without purpose, so he had come here with a specific task in mind. His goal was to determine the history of this city; essential information if he was going to be staying here for a while.
The library had been fairly empty for the entire time he’d been here; since what passed for morning around here. That’s why it was so unexpected when he rounded a corner and bumped into someone. The slight surprise, though, wasn’t at all evident, as he simply stood still as a statue and looked down at the person who had run into him.
“Clearly. But there’s no harm done.”
Creature of Habit||CLOSED RP
@victorythroughequality
The air was heavier here than the mountains. The tastes and sounds were different…eerie almost. When Tanyuu Karibusa dreamed of exploring new lands and new worlds…this is hardly what she had in mind. At first, she was indignant to the idea of being ripped from her home to some strange land without her consent…after spending a bit of time in her new home and the rest of the area, she came to a very lukewarm opinion about it.
For starters, she didn’t think that she would miss sunlight as much as she had. It took a while to adjust to that realization. Even though the darkness was somewhat bleak and the landscape not what she had expected as an adventure, she was happy to be somewhere different…
Though, she couldn’t quite call the Library as anything different than what she was used to…afterall the Karibusa family archives were her life’s business…it was strange that she found herself there so often…perhaps it was out of habit.
Tanyuu wandered through the aisles, glancing at the various books lazily. Her crutches tapped along the floor quietly, a skill she developed during her late night walks to the archives. She dared not wake Tama when she did so…she wouldn’t have heard the end of it had that been the case. As she continued around a corner, she bumped gently into someone.
“Oh! Sorry, didn’t see you there….”
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fancysorcerer:
Somehow, Dáithí’s face managed to get even redder, and they unconsciously took a small step backwards, crossing their arms tightly. It wasn’t as though they didn’t know they were… unskilled with physical weapons, to put it politely, but it still stung.
“I can defend myself perfectly well,” they said, perhaps a touch more icily than they should have. “Just not with a… a stick.” That was all a quarterstaff was, really, wasn’t it? A big stick to hit people with. The weakest child in Faerûn could do that. Which only made it more embarrassing that Dáithí still had trouble with it, but did it matter? They had magic.
Dáithí had been subject to enough lectures growing up, and they certainly didn’t need some masked stranger repeating the obvious. They retrieved the fallen quarterstaff and straightened back up, doing a frankly masterful job of acting as though they were perfectly at ease, despite the lingering redness in their face and the state they were in. Their mother would have been proud. Possibly so would the other high elven nobility she knew.
“Look, I am genuinely sorry for almost hitting you,” they said, as calmly and politely as they could manage. “But I’m not a child. I know how cities work. I know how dangerous the world can be, especially considering I was brought here against my will. So, thank you for your concern,” they added, “but I’m fine.”
They could defend themselves, but not wish a stick? Amon’s eyes narrowed. In his world, that would mean they were a bender. But what did it mean in this world? In their world? He continued with suspicion, though he noted with approval how great his conversational partner’s self-control was.
“Then why were you practicing?” Amon asked. “If you can defend yourself perfectly without your...stick, then why come to this park and swing it around anyway?” He continued on, answering his own question on their behalf. “It’s because you aren’t a child; you do know how the world works. And you know that knowing only a few ways to defend yourself is folly; if you aren’t skilled in multiple arts, then you can be placed at the mercy of a skilled opponent with a reliable counter to your methods.”
Amon’s pursuit of this person was almost instinctive. In Republic City, he had taken in those who were desperate and in need of defending. They were at the mercy of the vile bending oligarchy and all they needed was someone willing to listen and to help. This situation was not the same, but neither was it wholly different.
“I can help you,” he declared. “If your pride will allow it.”
Swing and a Miss | @victorythroughequality
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fancysorcerer:
Untouched. So… they’d missed. Which was a good thing, of course! Dáithí might not be the strongest, but a big stick was still a big stick. Not hitting the man was the best case scenario. Still, it was a little bit irritating that they couldn’t even hit someone by accident.
Now that they could actually see their almost-target, they were horribly, horribly aware of what a state they looked next to him. Red in the face, only partially from embarrassment, their creased clothes dusted with soot from the Smokestack District and torn from their fall, and gods only knew what their hair looked like. The awareness did nothing to stop the blushing.
“Oh. Good.” They straightened up, clearing their throat slightly and trying to at least brush some of the soot from their clothes. It didn’t work, and their usual elf-trained posture only highlighted how ridiculous they looked.
“Ah, no. I mean,” they spared a glance for the rosebush, which looked hardly any worse for wear. “The missing is… something of a habit,” they sighed, fidgeting with a loose thread on their cuff. “Which is probably for the best? I am really very sorry.”
They weren’t going to pretend this hadn’t happened before. They were pretty good at bluffing, but nobody could bluff with a completely empty hand.
Though Dáithí could not have seen, the miss wasn’t entirely their fault. Amon was quick on his feet, even when surprised. Especially when surprised. Did being quick really matter if you were useless when caught unprepared?
“If you are going to be in this city, you should make a habit of hitting your targets,” Amon said. “Criminal elements cling to the alleyways like a tenacious infection, and the ‘law enforcement’ seems little better. It is up to the people to defend themselves...and each other.”
His voice had a lick of passion in it, though it didn’t nearly rival the commanding tone he used to address crowds of hundreds or thousands.
“I can’t fault you for seeking to protect yourself. In a dangerous world like this, it should be the right of all people to feel safe. If the leadership will not provide this protection, it is up to the people to fulfill this duty themselves.”
Swing and a Miss | @victorythroughequality
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The rich district of this city was fascinating. When he had first arrived in Obsian, he wondered if perhaps there were only two classes of people; the so-called Gentry and everyone else. But, as he learned more about the city, he found that the infection of inequality was present even here.
The Esplanade District. Though as strange as the rest of this city, it was head and shoulders above the other districts in terms of affluence. Personal gardens, the finest boarding house, and the tranquil gardens. And yet others were relegated to dwell in the criminal-infested Shambles or the pollution-choked Smokestack District? Inequity was a disease endemic of all places humanity made their home, not simply the Earth that Amon had been snatched from.
Shimmergreen Park, though, stood out not only in the district but the city. It was almost unnervingly green; an oasis of grass and rosebushes amid a desert of tall houses and mushrooms. He wondered if, like in Republic City, this would be the best place to spread his words of equality to willing ears.
A walk through Shimmergreen Park had its hazards, however, such as a quarterstaff whistling dangerously close to his gut in what was either a practicing accident or the most pathetic attempt at a robbery Amon had ever been subjected to. The reality of hte situation was soon made clear; it was the former.
Surveying the other, he wasn’t sure what to make of them. Not quite what he was used to, but certainly not as outlandish as some he had encountered in this city. “Untouched,” he responded. “Do you make a habit of this?” He gestured towards the rosebush.
Swing and a Miss | @victorythroughequality
@victorythroughequality
Dáithí hated this city. They knew it wasn’t exactly an uncommon viewpoint– who in their right mind would like being stolen by some underground city?– but even so. They just felt useless. It was too risky to unnecessarily use magic aside from their cantrips, with so many people and buildings around, and… they didn’t have anything else.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. They were still intelligent, and plenty charming, but that wasn’t any use. All their attempts at getting to the bottom of the mystery of this city had so far fallen flat, and it was deeply frustrating.
They also had a quarterstaff, which they were… less than adept with, in all honesty. Better than with their daggers– the quarterstaff rarely made people bleed– but Dáithí had never been the strongest. Ordinarily they wouldn’t at all mind– who needed muscles if you had magic, after all, but this entire situation had left them desperate for any way to feel anything but utterly inadequate.
To anybody watching, they probably looked ridiculous, practicing alone, against a very makeshift practice dummy in the form of one of Shimmergreen’s rosebushes. No, they knew they looked ridiculous. It was probably why they weren’t entirely paying attention to their surroundings.
Gritting their teeth, they swung wildly, missing the bush entirely. The force of the attempt span them, granting them a second of horror to see the stranger their quarterstaff was about to hit square in the gut, before they fell straight into the rosebush.
“Gods,” they managed, scrambling to their feet, wincing as the thorns tore at their clothes and tangled in their hair. At least their fall meant to strike hadn’t been very hard at all, but still. This was mortifying. “I am– I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”
#obsianrp#fancysorcerer#Swing and a Miss#lol it's fine it happens to the best of us#who hasn't accidentally hit someone while swinging a quarterstaff around in a park?#The starter is excellent#thank you!
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nocrxwn:
Death had been avoiding the market. It wasn’t as though he’d never been in a crowd before– he’d been in a lot of crowds, particularly of the sort full of panicking, terrified people who weren’t looking what, or who, they were treading on. And the sort full of screaming, sword-wielding warriors. And the sort who gathered around public executions, though he tended to try to avoid those.
But he’d rarely been in crowds where he wasn’t unseen. It was uncomfortable. People kept treading on his robe, and staring. He supposed he couldn’t blame them for that, but it was still rude. He certainly couldn’t understand how people could avoid him completely when they refused to see him, but kept bumping into him when they could.
The Rat had been insistent, however. It had refused to elaborate, but wanted to show him something in the market itself. It tended to have good instincts, so Death had agreed. He hadn’t exactly agreed to let the Rat sit on his collarbone and tug the sides of his cowl to steer, but it had decided to do so anyway.
I’M NOT YOUR CHAUFFEUR, YOU KNOW, Death said mildly, obligingly turning right.
SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats.
THERE ARE OTHER RAVENS HERE, he pointed out. I DON’T SEE WHY–
SQUEAK! the Rat interrupted, stretching up to push against Death’s jawbone.
Death took it as a sign to stop, and did. The Death of Rats waited patiently for Death to let it clamber onto his raised hand and lower it to the floor, before gesturing dramatically to its grand surprise. Death regarded it stoically.
A CURRY SHOP? THANK YOU. YOU KNOW WE HAVE NO MONEY, HOWEVER?
He was aware of further staring, as the Rat deflated slightly, kicking at a small stone, but did his best to ignore it. It was just something he would have to get used to, he supposed. At least he had the forsight to not be walking around with the scythe.
Amon saw many interesting people in his time spent observing, but nothing quite matched the...person who had arrived just recently. It was a good thing that his mask was firmly affixed or it would have been incredibly obvious that he was staring. What he saw was nothing less than seven foot tall skeleton in a robe wandering around with a small rat-like creature resting in its hood.
Anyone else might have gone the other way. Amon, though, was not known to back away from anything.
Standing up straight - as he had been leaning against a wall - Amon made his way carefully through the crowds to the...skeleton. He really had no difficulties with the crowd, such as it was, weaving through it with almost thoughtless ease. The walking skeleton - surely a spirit of some kind - had stopped at a curry stand. Did it eat? That was an interesting question that he supposed would soon be answered.
“Excuse me,” he said, the greeting feeling foreign as he said it. How long had it been since he had simply...introduced himself to someone? “Do you need money?” He assumed so; though he had not heard anything said, he could think of no other reason for the spirit to have stood in front of a curry shop without so much as reaching for a wallet.
A Second Chance?
#nocrxwn#obsianrp#It's completely fine!#I love the reply#Please forgive any awkwardness with Amon here since I'm still sorta getting the feel for him#He's a tough character to play#but luv those skeletons#A Second Chance?
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A Second Chance?
Amon loved control. It was what he had built his life around; controlling events, controlling people, even controlling the very blood that flowed through every person’s veins. When he lost control, things could get very ugly. Very ugly.
This situation, therefore, was a nightmare for him. Captured in a way that he couldn’t avoid by some spiritual force and imprisoned in a city that he couldn’t escape? He had never in his life had less control. But, even so, he didn’t panic. What would that accomplish, really? If there was no way out of this city, then so be it. But he wasn’t going to take that for granted. He was going to search for a way out; his brothers and sisters needed him. And, if there truly was no way out...he would find a way to establish proper equality here instead.
The masked man walked through the city streets, having taken a few minutes to memorize the instructions given to him. If he was going to be staying here and operating here, he would need to not only understand the physical layout of the city, but also the people as well. It was, after all, the people that made the city.
People tended to gather in places where they could seek some sort of satisfaction; restaurants, markets, drinking establishments. If he wanted to find out the life of this city, that was where he would have to search. His first destination, therefore, was the market district. At the pace he set, it was a short walk. And, when he arrived, he found that it was, indeed, relatively busy compared to the other streets he’d been on. Yet it wasn’t as busy as would be expected in an open market in a city of this size.
Already, he was learning valuable information.
Taking a position where he could easily see the crowds that wandered through this area of the market, which he determined to be the busiest, he began a close watch. He wasn’t sure who, exactly, he was looking for, but he knew that he would recognize them when he saw them. It wasn’t a particular person, but rather a type of person he sought.
#obsianrp#a second chance?#obsian open#I know there isn't really a place to directly start interaction but you just gotta have a reason to enter the market basically#Amon will approach y/c then#I just wanted to give him a more compelling reason than just the normal nebulous reasons used when you don't know who the other person is
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