Soulless [open!]

[Tally]

Kattal had huddled on the outskirts of the town for nigh half the day, studying, judging and—in spite of his revulsion—marveling at the imitation of life here.  The soulless husks bustled, even seemed to care, showed emotion.  It could be they didn't even know their lack, the void in them.

For that reason, he kept his words covered.  His words, his names—the script that wrote itself along his skin in blue and midnight colors.  Nothing but his eyes showed, a bit of his neck, and the two slivers of exposed flesh at his shoulders.  Cloth and leather covered every other bit of him.

None of these poor creatures bore any words.  They had no names, their skin naked, blank.  He'd heard the stories, hadn't believed their severity, and now he stood cut off, alone.  Not defenseless, but alone, and surrounded by these hungry phantoms who might try to devour his names if they saw them.

Alone or not, danger or not, he had neither money nor food, and found himself with a powerful need for both.  One square in the town arrested his attention—a place where the guardsmen were signing mercenaries for the lord of the town.  He skulked toward it through wandering alleyways.  He would earn coin with his blade, one way or another.  Either through honest mercenary work or killing one of these...people and taking what they had on them.  He thought he would welcome the chance to banish one of these abominations.

[Ramon]

Yannick paused to take a deep breath of the sea air, smiling at the salt tang. He always enjoyed his yearly visit to the eastern edge of Serendipity, even if he missed the mountains. Being in this area offered him a chance to listen to foreign gossip, pick up some rare items he might need in the coming year, and generally relax a little. There was always the chance of a tangle with a pirate half his age, which made his heart pound a little harder. Side-stepping a young woman heavy with child with a polite nod, the elderly mage continued his stroll through town. He horse and sparse belongings were lodged at an inn he trusted not to get broken into, so Yannick was unburdened and unarmed, carrying only a small amount of coin and his magic.

So it was with great casualness that the old man walked through one of the smaller squares in town, head turning to take in the line of grumbling mercenaries and somewhat-alert guards. It was rather shameful that the town had to resort to hired swords to protect itself, but there simply weren't enough soldiers to adequately protect this long stretch of coastline. The sea and those who lived on it were unpredictable, after all.

On his way out of the square and preoccupied by his thoughts, Yannick almost walked into someone lurking in the alleyway. "My apologizes, stranger!" he exclaimed, taking several steps back from the young man and flashing him a pleasant smile. "I should pay better attention to where I'm walking, hm? You aren't hurt, are you?" The fact that the young male was practically covered from head to toe struck the mage as odd, but he was probably a foreigner of some sort. The town seemed to be full of them these past few years.

[Tally]

Kattal threw himself to the side, up against the wall, just to avoid physical contact with one of them.  The old man hadn't even seen him.  The mask on his face slipped downward in the jerk of his head.  His hand went to it immediately and tugged it back into place.

"No.  It's fine," he said.  Sharp, with what he knew must be a heavy accent though he'd spent years learning this language before coming here.  His hand gripped the hilt of his short sword—not deliberate, though he deliberately kept it there now he saw they were alone in the alleyway.

Kill him, take whatever he has.

He found himself searching the old man's eyes with furtive glances, trying to find...what?  Something alive there?  This one was old, he could probably take him, but how could he trust the appearance of such a thing.  He'd never looked one of these people in the eye before, and his breath came fast like he expected danger.  Maybe he did, even after all the preparation.  He could perhaps try asking the old man for help, direction, anything.

[Ramon]

Yes, perhaps he should have been watching where he was going a bit better, but his mind tended to drift a bit in old age. Remembrance of times past, friends lost and all that. The young man before him probably had little knowledge of such things, so the old mage kept quiet. The sharp accent definitely labelled the younger male as a foreigner, but Yannick had experience in dealing with strangers like him. The origin of the accent was unknown however, and the sound of it made the old man wonder where the lad was from.

Gold eyes flicked down to the hand gripped tightly around the sword hilt, but otherwise Yannick pretended not to notice the threat. If it was his fate to die in this alleyway, who was he to stop it? Besides, even with guards so near, this part of the city was dangerous at times. Still, the mage took a deliberate step back to give the young man some space. It wasn't nice being crowded by someone you didn't know, after all.

"Forgive me if I am being rude, but where do you come from, stranger? Your accent is unfamiliar to me." Yannick asked mildly, meeting the man's searching gaze whenever he happened to look directly at the mage. The stranger seemed tense and nervous, almost if he was preparing for battle. Well, he was welcome to try and attack, although the old man had some surprises up his sleeve.

[Tally]

"Ah...uh."  He knew this one.  This answer.  He stared into the sky above them as if it would be writ in the clouds there, for his mind chose that moment to go silent as a new tomb.  When they'd prepared their answers, it had been for kindred company, not this.  This they had not prepared for at all.

"I don't remember."  He laughed, at himself more than anything, just a touch of hysterics behind it.  He threw his hands up.  "I don't remember!"

They'd come with all these explanations and stories settled, where they were from, what they were doing here, and looking into this creature's eyes and seeing there something miming humanity he had lost it all.  If there had been a path to this plan, he strayed from it with every second.

[Ramon]

Yannick tipped his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow at the unusual answer, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. This young man was a odd one all right, but he had met odder. "You don't remember?" he repeated softly, somewhat amused by the fact that the stranger didn't seem overly bothered by not being able to remember where he came from.

"Well, if you're looking to start a new life, Serendipity is the place to do it." the mage commented with a smile, glancing out of the alleyway and towards the crowd of guards and mercenaries. "That lot will probably hire you if you want to stay around here, otherwise you can offer your services to a traveler. This nation is at peace right now, but bandits and trouble-makers still roam the roads. You'll find work someplace, stranger."

Looking back at the foreigner, he added, "But you might want to explore the town a bit, get a feel for the way things work here. Having some local knowledge might just save your life out in the wilderness." The gods knew that a scrap of an overheard rumour or a bit of local folklore had aided him in the past. Shifting, Yannick folded his hands in the sleeves of his robe and leaned back against the wall, watching the young man curiously to see what his reaction might be.

[Tally]

"I mean...never mind."  Kattal shook his head.  There was no explaining away his outburst now.  The old man would just have to think him mad.

"I'm sure," he added.  His eyes followed the old man's gaze to the pavilion in the square, where some or other lowly officer had got himself stuck supervising the efforts to recruit mercenaries to the lord's cause.  Kattal remembered now, the answers he should have had prepared before, but it was too late for all that, and this far from the rest of the vanguard he wondered if it even mattered.

Bandits and troublemakers.  If the old man knew the vanguard's purpose here, he'd be including them in that lot.  He still had not let go the hilt of his blade.  "And how do things...work here?"

Being surrounded by these people already had him on edge.  He wanted out of here as fast as possible.  Tarrying among the soulless left him feeling cold all over.

[Ramon]

Yannick's gaze flicked to the hand still wrapped tightly around the sword hilt, wondering if the foreigner was just jumpy or whether the old mage was about to get attacked. Both seemed equally likely at this point. It didn't help that he seemed unable to make a connection with the younger man, either. Not that the old man had stopped to chat with that idea in mind, oh no. It was just something that seemed to happen naturally with most people.

Sighing softly and wondering if his age was making him loose touch with the younger generation, Yannick thought for a moment before answering. "Be respectful to other citizens and the gods, don't cause too much trouble, and live as you want to live without breaking the law, basically. Those words are what I live by, anyway. Others might have a different view of things..." Trailing off thoughtfully, the old man wondered what the stranger must think, listening him babble on like this. Well, at least he was being courteous enough to stop a listen for a while, even if Yannick was boring. Respectful young men were becoming rarer these days.

[Tally]

Kattal waved a hand, dismissive.  "Everyone knows that.  Or everyone should."

It was no different than the way his own people were expected to live.  For all their differences, it was the similarities that unnerved him the most.  These people had built lives for themselves here, somehow.  He could not understand how they could have no words and yet have law, and justice.

There was one question he'd always wanted to know the answer to.  He spoke it with a sidelong glance, nervous even in the asking, for the answer mattered.  "Do you have a name?"

Thunder, low and grumbling, rolled over his words.  The sliver of sky he could make out between the buildings remained deceptively blue.  Only the racing wisps of clouds there and a sudden salty wind heavy with the scent of rain hinted at the storm stalking in from the sea, unseen but betrayed by its heralds of thunder.

[Ramon]

Yannick shifted position against the wall, hands still tucked into his sleeves. "Yes, everyone should know that," he agreed rather cheerfully, adding, "but not everyone does, unfortunately." He was glad that despite their differences in appearance and culture, he and the stranger shared some values in common. The mage didn't care where a person was from - as long as they followed the laws of the land and didn't disrespect him too much, he was fine with them. This one had the makings of a fine citizen, if he chose to stay and live rightly.

The sudden question made the old man pause and look curiously at the dark-skinned stranger. He wanted to know his name? It wasn't a problem, for the mage often gave his name to those who asked (and even some who didn't), but the manner in which the question was asked caught his attention. In the legends, names were said to have power, but he didn't think the young man was interested in his for that purpose. "I do." he replied with a small nod. "My name is Yannick, Yannick Teine." Teine was a nickname he had gained in the army, coming from an ancient word meaning fire. It wasn't a family name, but his sons were welcome to use it if they wished.

Yannick glanced up at the sky as thunder boomed again, still distant but coming closer. A breeze heavy with the smell of salt made his robe flutter, and the old man glanced between the young man and the impatient line of mercenaries in the square. He was enjoying this conversation, but he wasn't about to keep the youth from a potential job or finding shelter from the coming storm. He could always seek refuge in a tavern if the rain got too intense, otherwise he would return to the inn where his horse and belongings waited.

[Tally]

Kattal stared.  The old man gave a name, but where did it come from?  If they all thought they had names, where did they get them from?  He gave another glance to the bare skin of the old man's face and hands but no—there were no words there, none at all.  Blank, soulless flesh.

Part of Kattal's name scrawled across the back of his shoulders, another part lower on his back, and the final third marched in elegant text like a bracelet around his right wrist.  The words themselves held his soul in place, but the name was no secret, so he gave it.

"Kattal," he said.  He was still trying to figure out how this could be, if they could get their names and their words from elsewhere.

A sudden crack of thunder split the air, painfully loud and close.  It shook the houses around them.  Kattal flinched, and crouched instinctively as the sky flashed.  He scowled upward.  What he'd thought to be a gentle storm was proving to have some bite in it.

[Ramon]

Yannick met the stare with a level look of his own, amused at the somewhat confused look in the foreigner's eyes. Was his name that odd to this person? Indeed, some had more flowery or bold names, but he thought his suited him rather well. His mother had graced him with the name after all, and he had liked it enough to keep it throughout his life.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kattal." the old man replied with a warm smile, but was prevented from saying more as thunder snapped close by. Automatically hunching his shoulders and lowering his head, he stood stiffly through the lightning flash and another roll of thunder. Sudden storms were common, but even this was unnerving him a little. Were the gods angry for some reason?

"There is a tavern close by if you wish to join me, Kattal." he said during the next period of calm, looking around for a moment to get his bearings and then glancing towards the young man to see if he would follow before setting off. Another close rumble of thunder added urgency to his steps, and within a few minutes the old man was pushing open the door to a small tavern a block over.  He selected a table at the rear, well away from the half-a-dozen or so patrons and settled down, loosing his traveling robe and watching Kattal to see what he thought of the place.

[Tally]

A few splatterings of rain fell, but surprisingly little considering the heavy clouds over them.  The leading edge of the storm hit them and the wind kicked up.  Kattal huddled against the side of the building to to escape the gusts.

He wouldn't have followed.  He wouldn't have, except for the impressive show of lightning arcing over his head.  Those angry bolts had a way of overcoming whatever reservations he had left.

The tavern became crowded fast.  Everyone on the street was looking for a place to hide from the storm.  Kattal stopped dead just inside the doorway and cast about for the one familiar face he knew in this place.  He could feel the press of too many people around him, and fairly ran to Yannick's table in the back.

[Ramon]

The young man seemed frightened as he appeared across from the mage, although Yannick couldn't tell if it was because if the storm or the crowd of people suddenly inhabiting the tavern. The old man gave a faint smile as Kattal got settled, half-hoping the gesture would serve to calm down the foreigner. Golden eyes flicked from the young man's face to settle on the serving-woman who materialized next to their table, looking harassed yet pleased at the influx of new customers.

"What can I get ya?" she asked, focusing on the old mage first. He smiled back and spoke.

"Ale, please. And a small tray of whatever food is available." Yannick requested, then glanced towards Kattal. "If you would like to order something, go ahead." he said kindly, not minding the extra expense. The young man intrigued him, and the mage wanted to make him feel welcome however he could. Thunder rumbled again overhead, the sound muted by the walls of the tavern. Hopefully the storm would pass quickly, but if not, Yannick was certain he could make the wait pass easier with some conversation. Assuming Kattal was willing to talk, at least.

[Tally]

Kattal huddled into the chair.  He would've almost rather taken his chances with the storm.  He'd never before been caught between four walls with these people.  It was suffocating, alarming.  He sat poised to bolt at any minute.  This place was surreal, like some facsimile of reality, made all the more nightmarish by its proximity to truth.

"No," he muttered.  He waved the woman away without looking at her.  He didn't want their food, though hunger would drive him to desperation eventually.  Only not now.  He could pass it up now.

"How long will that last, do you think?"  A flick of his eyes upward to indicate the storm bearing down on them.  Rain roared down all around them.  He'd be going nowhere today, and if he managed to get out of here tonight he'd be sleeping on wet ground even if the rain did stop.