No Stopping the Rain [Open!]

[Pseudonym]

   The gray clouds in the sky hung like faded tapestries on a dark wall, looming over the normally brilliant city of Connlaoth. It wasn't quite raining yet, but the smell of it was in the air and the sky was pregnant with humidity. It wouldn't be long now until it started to fall and dusty streets would turn slick with the precipitation. Behind its heavily fortified walls Reajh would be polished and left gleaming by the rain, unhindered by the soiled nature of the city beyond.
   Hauthka was leaned against one of the walls that encircled the mordecai barracks, just one of the key features tied in with the legacy of Connlaoth. It was days like these that remind Hauthka of home and she started to wonder what her family was up to. It was days like these that she felt a small pang of longing for the life she used to have with them. As much as she had managed to stay in contact, she couldn't say just how long it had been since she'd actually laid eyes on them. She missed the warm smell of dinner in the kitchen that meant her mom was around, or the hearty laughter of her brother.
   She should go and visit them soon, she thought.
   That wasn't to say she wanted to leave here, or the life she'd built for herself in the ranks of the Mordecai. She knew she was doing good work here, she had committed herself to this and to the bettering of other peoples' lives as well. She couldn't leave that now, but family was a thing you didn't get a large dose of around the garrison. Commaraderie just didn't hold a lick of a flame to it.
   Running her fingers through her hair Hauthka stretched out against the brick wall and breathed in deeply. How she loved the damp smell. From here she had a good view of the street. People were still milling about, but quickly catching on to the change in temperature and the telltale signs of a change in the weather.
   She shielded her eyes and looked up toward the sky. There was still time for a quick walk if she left now, and she could give her legs a bit of a stretch. Besides, a little water never hurt anyone.
   With that, Hauthka turned to set off down the street.

[Saber-Five]

 Where many of the citizens in the street were making preparations to head indoors due to the coming rain, a few others mostly beggars intend to stay out in the open as long as possible. The reason why is they wanted to make some money to buy their next meal. Among them was a newcomer, that was sitting adjacent a water foundation beside one of the houses on the left. He wore a brown cloak covered most of his body. The only things visible were his head covered mostly in wrinkled bandage wrappings including the eyes.

The nose, ears, mouth, and scarred arms can been seen as well. The begger was clearly an adult male, but the exact age was a mystery to the public eye that actually noticed. He held out in his right hand in silent plead for a any stranger kind enough to drop coins to a hand-held small basket in front of him. So far two coins had been given, nearly everyone was too busy to care and the change in the weather didn't help. Yet the bandaged man displayed a happy grin on his face as if he was the most joyful person in the capital saying in an raspy voice.

"Blessings of Angsar to you all. May his glory shine down upon us."

Suddenly he heard two pair of feets stopping a few feet away from him.  It was a fine dressed young man skinny in frame accompied by an overweight friend. They too were smiling but mockily, staring down at the vagabond. The skinny one snickered and commented.

"It obvious that Angsar has abandoned you freak. Why don't you do everyone a favor and just drop dead, so you can stop being a waste of space."

His friend next to him laughed as if it was a funny joke, while the beggar tried to put on a brave expression but fear betrayed his tone.

"I...I want no trouble."

Before he can say anything further, the skinny bully kicked him in the chest, knocking him down while fatty reach down for the little basket. He swore seeing there were only two coins to two

"Drake this is only enough to buy one cup of ale."

[Pseudonym]

  The streets grew more and more gloomy as Hauthka walked. Gloomy and empty. Some windows remained open, even in the face of the impending rain. Curtains blew languidly into the street from the homes of people not quite aware of the rain yet, and the windows of stuffy taverns let their mirth spill into the streets openly. The jubilations of drunkards wasn't really what interested Hauthka on a day like today. She'd stay out in the rain until she was too cold or run right through with it to be able to handle it anymore.

  Two men stumbled out of one of the said taverns she'd been wondering over, jeering at one another, and set off down the road a few feet in front of her. They were drunk, obviously, and laughing in that loud, obnoxious way only the imbibers of alcohol seem to be able to produce. Well, there went her nice quiet walk under the rain clouds. It had been so peaceful, too. Maybe she could just fall behind them a bit, let them get out of her way.

  From up the street she could hear the soft rush of the fountain in the district's center, and beneath that the familiar tidings of beggars. Once they reached it Hauthka'd just have to make sure she turned down the opposite road they did.
"Blessings of Angsar to you all. May his glory shine down upon us."
It wasn't uncommon for those down on their luck to appeal to the piety of Connlaothians for a little goodwill, just a bit of sustenance to keep them going when they couldn't procure their own. She didn't mind them, she didn't take much note of them usually on a given day.

  Today, however, these two hot and happy tavern hoppers decided that they were going to take an interest in the beggar. Hauthka hung back a moment to observe them, red nosed and red faced and trying to rob this poor, decrepit figure of its meager existence. They were succeeding, too. If you looked close enough you could almost see the filth just under the collars of their shirts, leeching out from the tips of their fingers.

  Some people, Hauthka thought. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped forward, lifting a hand over her shoulder to wrap strong fingers around the guisarme secured there.

"Hey!" She called to get their attention, her voice sharp. "He said he doesn't want any trouble."

Hauthka placed a hand on her armored hip.

"I wouldn't call him abandoned, either."

[Saber-Five]

 The two drunks turned around to the direction of voice and saw it was an armed woman holding a pole weapon. It clearly marked her as a soldier, though being intoxicated it was hard for them to figure out exactly what type she is. Drake the skinny, instead of doing the smart thing and do as she commanded he retorted back.

"Watch your tone you tramp of a soldier! My father is the head magistrate of this district, so back off or you'll lose your job."

The fatty however grew a little more nervous yet said noting. Meanwhile the beggar slowly sat back up wheezing in pain. He couldn't see who was coming to his recuse yet he tried to pay close attention, listening to the conversation, seemly afaird of how this will turn out.

[Pseudonym]

  As soon as they turned to face her, their intoxication was scathingly clear to Hauthka. As much as their actions grated on her, and despite the fact that they were ruining her relaxing, drizzly walk, she knew she couldn't get too harsh on them. Being drunk and stupid wasn't a crime that was worthy of capital punishment. The quicker she could get them to carry on their way, the better.

  She couldn't say she'd been expecting them to turn and run at the sight of her, but most people would have the presence of mind not to aggravate a soldier of the mordecai garrision. So, when the skinny one piped up, Hauthka's face pulled into a displeased expression, her brow arched with the ludicrous nature of it. Just to top it off, he'd called her a tramp, no less.

  Hauthka drew the guisarme off her back, grasping the pole in her hands and held it in front of her. The blade at the end was perfectly sharpened, something Hauthka prided herself on, and it gleamed even in the dimness of the gray sky. She was hoping this would be signal enough for the two that they might want to back off.

  She looked behind them toward the small figure wrapped in cloth. There was little skin to be seen and the only apparent characteristic about him was his frailty. And, blinded? How low would these people stoop for a cup of ale?

"Head magistrate? Doesn't sound like he'd be too pleased to hear his son was dumb enough to assault a poor citizen and aggravate a Connlaothian soldier." The corner of her pink lips raised slightly. "So... I dunno if it'll be me losing my job. Or, maybe you losing your inheritance?"

[Saber-Five]

 Drake grew more agitated that this woman would dare threaten him, but before he can say anything else, his friend, Gregory stopped him and panickyly said

  "Drake I recognize this lady, seen her patrolling the streets. She ain't no regular soldier, but one of those Mordecai from their garrison nearby."

For the first time today Drake Tallent actually felt fear upon hearing that and became a little more bit sober in reaction. He turned his eyes back to the meddler with frighten expression, Drake had heard many stories about Mordecai, only the stuff about hunting magic wielders but also police the nobility since they answered to the Grand Duke himself. If he gets in trouble with one of them, his father won't protect him and may very well lost his inheritance for such a scandal. Gregory dropped the money basket down next to the beggar, who alos grew silent when hearing that the woman was a Mordecai involved. Meanwhile Drake suddnely grabbed his fat friend and they ran in full haste away from the scene.

That left the beggar alone with the Mordecai, he couldn't look into her direction but he cleared his throat and said.

"Thank...you."

[Pseudonym]

  Huh. Well, if she were being honest Hauthka hadn't expected her little show of bravado to be quite that effective. She had to smile a bit as they turned tail and ran off down the street. This only served to prove that there really was no underestimating the power of the unknown. As far as she could tell, the general populace living here didn't really know all that much about the people who lived in the garrison, what they could do. She was more threat as a soldier to the two than as a mordecai.

  As they ran off, it left her standing there with her weapon drawn and facing the frail beggar curled up against the fountain. She moved to replace the guisarme to her back where it belonged and felt the first drops of rain begin to fall. The feel was cool and refreshing, and she welcomed it after her little altercation. With a calming breath she knelt down in front of the cloaked man and started to pick up the money basket from where the would-be thieves had dropped it.

  "It's no problem," She said as she placed the basket back in his hands, both coins clinking dully together. The weather was evolving into a definite rainfall. "I'm Hauthka."

  She reached out and tentatively touched his bandaged shoulder.

  "Are you okay? Is there anywhere I can take you out of this rain, uh... What's your name?"

[Saber-Five]

  The cloaked beggar smiled despite the rain pouring out now.

"Please to meet you Hauthka."

He said with a warming smile. Hauthka could clearly see from her angle visiable scars covered on his lips and the tan marked skin that hinted deep burns he suffered years back. As the rain poured down and started to soak his cloak the beggar raised his head up to let the falling drops fall on his face. It felt a bit cold yet refreshing for a man in his condition and took a moment to enjoy it. Then finally he answered his recuser's questions while taking ahold of the money basket that was catching rainwater now.

"You can call me Richard. I usually hole up back at the slums, a few blocks from here."

[Pseudonym]

  The rain was beginning to soak through her hair, and it ran down her cheeks to drip every so often off her nose and chin. She smiled in a small way back at the beggar.

"Nice to meet you, too, Richard."

  As her fingers lingered on his damp shoulder she could see the scars adorning his skin, their pearlescent lines that wound back and forth across his form. She wondered at their origins, wondered what could have happened to this man to leave him in this situation, sitting here in the rain begging for change and at the mercy of those around him. It was easy to forget at the surface perception of the common beggars that these weren't always poor or lost souls. They were people, this was a man.

  Hauthka straightened herself, the rain drops bouncing off her armor. The street had darkened a bit now with the waning weather.

"Well, Richard, do you mind if a bored soldier accompanies you back? Those two kind of interrupted my rainy day walk."

  She reached out her hand to him, then remembered his covered eyes and curled her fingers back into her palm.

"Do you need help getting up, or walking?"

[Saber-Five]

 "Of course I wouldn't mind your company. It's not everyday someone of my station to have the honor to be escorted by our homeland's protectors." Richard repiled mirthfully before grunting at the lingering pain inflicted by the drunks earlier.

"I'm going to need help some getting up but I got my walking stick beside me."

As the rain persist in its outpour Richard picked up a medium-size stick underneath the cloak with his left hand. He picked up his small money basket with the other hand. Now the small basket had turned into unofficial cup of rainwater. Richard then let Hauthka help him up while putting the twin coins into a pocket. Afterward he and his escort proceeded to walk down the street.

Using the walking stick to help guide his steps with Hauthka's aid, he asked in an voice filled with intrigue.

"Pardon my curiosity Hauthka it is true you're one of the Mordecai?"

[Pseudonym]

  Hauthka carefully helped the man to his feet, steadying him on his walking cane before taking her hand from his shoulder. Just two coins for him, today. It didn't seem like much at all, but at this point Hauthka felt it might be a little bit insulting to offer him money. She'd never been good at the proprieties surrounding these social encounters. So far, her ineptitude at the niceties hadn't caused her too much pain.

"Oh, I don't know if I'd really call it an honour," she laughed, walking alongside him.

  The two carried on down the dampened streets. It was a slight blessing that the rain hadn't broken into a full-out downpour, but it was definitely more than a light drizzle now. She couldn't help but look down at the scars on what little skin Richard had exposed. Her brown eyes traced them for a moment, and she was just wondering if she would be rude to broach the subject with him, before her thoughts were interrupted by his voice; and his question.

"Uh... Sorry, yeah. I am, live in the flesh. Although, I'm more proud of the combat skills I've learned because of it than I am of being a Mordecai," She paused, reaching back to dart her fingers over the poled weapon. "It took a lot more work to earn those."

  The buildings were starting to visibly degrade as her and her new companion carried on further toward the slums of Reajh and it was obvious they were getting close to their destination.

"Would it be... Rude... To ask about your scars?" She posited quietly.

[Saber-Five]

  The beggar called Richard nodded in acknowledgment to Hauthka's answer concerning his question.

"Learning skills that one can be proud of could get a person far in life." He observed.

When Hautha hesitantly ask about the scars, he sighed. This was a question that tended come up many times, he wasn't surprised nor disappointed by it. Just the memory of how his condition came to be in the first place hurt him more than the physical pain that he felt at times. Richard's cheery disposition lessen as he stay slient for a whole minute, wondering how to explain.

"It isn't rude to ask my dear. It just reliving the moment when it happen hurts in more ways than one."

He finally stated, before adding.

"Put it simply I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I was a small-time farmer taking my share of crops in an wagon to a nearby village. However on the road I was stopped by a milita on patrol. They question me and inspect my wagon in search of a some mage that escaped custody a few days before. Then out from the trees, magic users hiding in wait ambushed them with me caught in the middle."

Richard paused in uncomfortable silence, even as he walked, the beggar though his eyes were wrapped in bandages looked as if he can see again, reliving the moment.

"It...was horrible. So much screaming, blood everywhere and...fire. During the fight I tried to run but collided with some of the militiamen and we were hit by a blast of fire that engulfed us."

[Pseudonym]

  The rain had begun to die down some as the two walked together. He seemed to be at least one beggar of interesting background, but it definitely wasn't the only sad story she had heard since coming here. They had reached the slums now, following the trails of lower and lower buildings and deepening grime climbing up the walls of the houses. She was afraid the rain might wash too much of it away, it seemed as though it was holding some of the walls together.

  Hauthka nodded at Richard's observation, and the sigh that followed her question. Obviously, not something he wanted to talk about, so she was surprised when he carried on into an explanation of the origin of his scars. To Hauthka it didn't sound like something the mages would do. As much as they were a danger, she'd never found many of them to be all that violent, or willing to attack with an innocent civilian stuck in the middle of their battle, but who was she to doubt his story.

"You had no family to help you afterwards? How'd you end up here in Reajh?"

  Hauthka paused in the middle of the darkening street looking first from one open street to the other that forked off in front of them.

"Which way now, Richard?"

[Saber-Five]

"The mages fled when a group of knights appeared, of course I only found out about that part after they brought me to a monastery. As for my family, there was only my sister, Lucy and her two young children. They did came to pick me up but my wounds were so expensive so it was decided that I should remain there until the doctor believed I could go home. Took time and effort but my condition improved with help with the priests taking care of me. They sent word to my kin who visited me occasionally but our home was found ransacked, likely bandits.

Its been years and not a single trace of Lucy or my nephew and niece been found since then. I dobut they're still alive."

Richard explained solmenly, with warm water streaming down from within the eye wrappings.

"So I stayed with the monks for a long time, most of them were good company though some were a bit overbearing at times. Then just recently our regional duke gotten himself killed in some kind of fighting and his whole duchy got swallowed into bloody anarchy. The monks decided I couldn't stay anymore, concerned with what could happen and so paired me with a group of refuges passing through. So that how I ended up here in the capital, taking up the profession of humble begging."

He finished, trying to end the story on a funny note, but the saddeness layered in his voice said otherwise.  Richard could barely hold himself together at this point but he muster enough strength to mutter.

"The one on the left I believe."

[Pseudonym]

  Hauthka listened solemnly and slightly unattentively to Richard as he carried on in a low voice, keeping half an eye on the street, the two of them standing in the light rain. It was growing colder now, and she could feel the chill seeping into her skin. Once she got this beggar home she could head back to the garrison and to the dry comfort of her own quarters.

  As his story moved into the fortuitous arrival of knights at this small, removed village an eyebrow arched every so slightly on Hauthka's face in response.

"Seems like your little village must have had quite the mage problem."

  As he continued, she began to notice a definite pattern in the fact that everyone who could or would have known something about this man was conveniently dead or left vague in his retelling. Her stance shifted almost imperceptibly and she couldn't help but cross her arms in front of her. Wariness was being perked in the back of her mind, but she knew it was nothing solid to go on. Just... A feeling. A quiet, nagging suspicion.

  Hauthka took a quick assessing glance upward at the left-hand street and proceeded to guide the beggar Richard in that direction. If nothing else, she'd know where to find the man if need be.

"Anarchy? Which duchy was that?"