The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Kyros had been in Midas for a close to three weeks. During that time, he had found he didn’t much like this city any more than he had the last. Oh, there were plenty of opportunities to make fast coin, both honestly and by more nefarious means. The assassin-turned-mercenary had even ventured out of the city proper and into the surrounding provinces. But they held little interest to him. Perhaps he was still mentally reeling from the loss of the only life and family he’d ever known. Perhaps he was still searching for answers to questions he couldn’t even comprehend.
Either way, one thing was for certain. Colchis was not his home.
With that thought in mind, Kyros found himself in the market square that morning, staking out possible targets. He would need much more funds if he were to buy passage out of Colchis. It would take time – perhaps another week – to gather the necessary coin. He also needed food and perhaps new clothes.
His stomach growled. Food would need to be dealt with first it seemed.
Kyros shifted his path to take him to the nearest food stall. Cured bits of meat, breads, and cheeses lined the wooden shelves. Kyros was not one to let go of more coin that he absolutely had to, not while he was on the run and could need that money for other things. So, he struck up a conversation with the merchant running the stall, trying to strike a bargain for the food he desired. The man insulted the offer Kyros countered with and further began to insult Kyros himself. The mercenary put a hand on a dagger hanging from his belt and spat a few choice curses at the man – of course the merchant didn’t understand and looked utterly confused, because said curses had been spoken in flawless Coptic. The foreign words – and with such hateful and threatening connotations - coming out of the mouth of a man that was obviously of Greek decent threw the merchant off his guard enough that Kyros was able to drop a few coins (half as much as the man had asked for) and grab the food that he wanted and walk away before the merchant or anyone else that had been near could even regain their composure.
Kyros left that area of the market rather quickly and made his way to where he knew finer items were sold. Paintings, jewelry, expensive trinkets. This was where he would find the scores he needed. He rounded the corner of a stall - deftly swiping a ruby necklace from a table as he passed and dropping it into a belt pouch - and found himself colliding with the tiny frame of a woman, causing the food he was carrying to be scattered upon the ground! A cursory glance of her clothing told him all he needed to know of the girl. She was a noble. ”Yet more noble scum that thinks they don’t have to watch where they’re going!” he spat angrily in Coptic, the language flowing from his tongue like second nature. This had not been the first time since he’d been ostracized from the Creed that he had been bowled over by members of the upper class. And quite frankly, he’d had enough of it!
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Kyros had been in Midas for a close to three weeks. During that time, he had found he didn’t much like this city any more than he had the last. Oh, there were plenty of opportunities to make fast coin, both honestly and by more nefarious means. The assassin-turned-mercenary had even ventured out of the city proper and into the surrounding provinces. But they held little interest to him. Perhaps he was still mentally reeling from the loss of the only life and family he’d ever known. Perhaps he was still searching for answers to questions he couldn’t even comprehend.
Either way, one thing was for certain. Colchis was not his home.
With that thought in mind, Kyros found himself in the market square that morning, staking out possible targets. He would need much more funds if he were to buy passage out of Colchis. It would take time – perhaps another week – to gather the necessary coin. He also needed food and perhaps new clothes.
His stomach growled. Food would need to be dealt with first it seemed.
Kyros shifted his path to take him to the nearest food stall. Cured bits of meat, breads, and cheeses lined the wooden shelves. Kyros was not one to let go of more coin that he absolutely had to, not while he was on the run and could need that money for other things. So, he struck up a conversation with the merchant running the stall, trying to strike a bargain for the food he desired. The man insulted the offer Kyros countered with and further began to insult Kyros himself. The mercenary put a hand on a dagger hanging from his belt and spat a few choice curses at the man – of course the merchant didn’t understand and looked utterly confused, because said curses had been spoken in flawless Coptic. The foreign words – and with such hateful and threatening connotations - coming out of the mouth of a man that was obviously of Greek decent threw the merchant off his guard enough that Kyros was able to drop a few coins (half as much as the man had asked for) and grab the food that he wanted and walk away before the merchant or anyone else that had been near could even regain their composure.
Kyros left that area of the market rather quickly and made his way to where he knew finer items were sold. Paintings, jewelry, expensive trinkets. This was where he would find the scores he needed. He rounded the corner of a stall - deftly swiping a ruby necklace from a table as he passed and dropping it into a belt pouch - and found himself colliding with the tiny frame of a woman, causing the food he was carrying to be scattered upon the ground! A cursory glance of her clothing told him all he needed to know of the girl. She was a noble. ”Yet more noble scum that thinks they don’t have to watch where they’re going!” he spat angrily in Coptic, the language flowing from his tongue like second nature. This had not been the first time since he’d been ostracized from the Creed that he had been bowled over by members of the upper class. And quite frankly, he’d had enough of it!
Kyros had been in Midas for a close to three weeks. During that time, he had found he didn’t much like this city any more than he had the last. Oh, there were plenty of opportunities to make fast coin, both honestly and by more nefarious means. The assassin-turned-mercenary had even ventured out of the city proper and into the surrounding provinces. But they held little interest to him. Perhaps he was still mentally reeling from the loss of the only life and family he’d ever known. Perhaps he was still searching for answers to questions he couldn’t even comprehend.
Either way, one thing was for certain. Colchis was not his home.
With that thought in mind, Kyros found himself in the market square that morning, staking out possible targets. He would need much more funds if he were to buy passage out of Colchis. It would take time – perhaps another week – to gather the necessary coin. He also needed food and perhaps new clothes.
His stomach growled. Food would need to be dealt with first it seemed.
Kyros shifted his path to take him to the nearest food stall. Cured bits of meat, breads, and cheeses lined the wooden shelves. Kyros was not one to let go of more coin that he absolutely had to, not while he was on the run and could need that money for other things. So, he struck up a conversation with the merchant running the stall, trying to strike a bargain for the food he desired. The man insulted the offer Kyros countered with and further began to insult Kyros himself. The mercenary put a hand on a dagger hanging from his belt and spat a few choice curses at the man – of course the merchant didn’t understand and looked utterly confused, because said curses had been spoken in flawless Coptic. The foreign words – and with such hateful and threatening connotations - coming out of the mouth of a man that was obviously of Greek decent threw the merchant off his guard enough that Kyros was able to drop a few coins (half as much as the man had asked for) and grab the food that he wanted and walk away before the merchant or anyone else that had been near could even regain their composure.
Kyros left that area of the market rather quickly and made his way to where he knew finer items were sold. Paintings, jewelry, expensive trinkets. This was where he would find the scores he needed. He rounded the corner of a stall - deftly swiping a ruby necklace from a table as he passed and dropping it into a belt pouch - and found himself colliding with the tiny frame of a woman, causing the food he was carrying to be scattered upon the ground! A cursory glance of her clothing told him all he needed to know of the girl. She was a noble. ”Yet more noble scum that thinks they don’t have to watch where they’re going!” he spat angrily in Coptic, the language flowing from his tongue like second nature. This had not been the first time since he’d been ostracized from the Creed that he had been bowled over by members of the upper class. And quite frankly, he’d had enough of it!
It felt nice to have a little bit of normalcy again.
Things had felt beyond chaotic ever since her father returned from the dead. It was all that Essa could do to try and hold her family together, to try and make sense of the truly unimaginable. Even her stories barely provided a suitable distraction. After all, her life had come up with a twist to beat them all. She’d been so busy trying to help everyone around her, the poor girl had barely given herself time to come to terms with her own feelings on the matter.
After all, her mother always told her that Drakos women had to be strong. Had to put emotion aside to do what needed to be done. For once, Essa had done just that. As strange as that notion was for the daughter whose emotions always swayed her.
So she had slipped away to the market. Perhaps she would find a gift or two to cheer up her family. Something that would help Imeeya loosen her outrage or her mother to steady... or something to make her father - a perfect stranger - somehow love and adore her. Essa had always loved the marketplace. Not only was there so many incredible things to look at and marvel over, but so many incredible people as well. People she would never have an opportunity to meet otherwise. Here, she could just be a person rather than a noble, blissfully unaware that the fine dyes of her chiton and the jewels she wore easily gave away the truth of her position.
There were a million sights to draw her eyes, and Essa quickly lost herself in them, gazing up and around as she casually strolled through the marketplace. Pretending for just a moment that she was carefree. And then suddenly everything hurt and she was tumbling towards the ground. She blinked rapidly, looking up to the young man who stood above her, angry expression on his face.
His words had her flushing even as she scrambled to right herself. “I am so sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention at all,” she gushed in apology. “Though scum seems a little harsh... It was an honest mistake,” she continued, voice soft and sheepish, like a scolded child. All the while she hurriedly tried to grab what the man had dropped, only to realize in dismay that it was food, which was now worthless as it had been in the dirt.
Then another fact occurred to her. “You speak Coptic!” she exclaimed loudly, jumping to her feet in excitement. She had studied the language and was rather skilled with the written language. The spoken however... well, she had never had the chance to actually practice it. At least not with any person who could actually correct her on matters of pronunciation.
“Please, let me at least replace your food. Anything you want. It’s the least I can do after such carelessness. And... there is something I’d like to discuss with you if you could spare the time.” As she spoke, she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes, so full of remorse as she pleaded with him.
“I promise it will be worth your while. Please sir.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It felt nice to have a little bit of normalcy again.
Things had felt beyond chaotic ever since her father returned from the dead. It was all that Essa could do to try and hold her family together, to try and make sense of the truly unimaginable. Even her stories barely provided a suitable distraction. After all, her life had come up with a twist to beat them all. She’d been so busy trying to help everyone around her, the poor girl had barely given herself time to come to terms with her own feelings on the matter.
After all, her mother always told her that Drakos women had to be strong. Had to put emotion aside to do what needed to be done. For once, Essa had done just that. As strange as that notion was for the daughter whose emotions always swayed her.
So she had slipped away to the market. Perhaps she would find a gift or two to cheer up her family. Something that would help Imeeya loosen her outrage or her mother to steady... or something to make her father - a perfect stranger - somehow love and adore her. Essa had always loved the marketplace. Not only was there so many incredible things to look at and marvel over, but so many incredible people as well. People she would never have an opportunity to meet otherwise. Here, she could just be a person rather than a noble, blissfully unaware that the fine dyes of her chiton and the jewels she wore easily gave away the truth of her position.
There were a million sights to draw her eyes, and Essa quickly lost herself in them, gazing up and around as she casually strolled through the marketplace. Pretending for just a moment that she was carefree. And then suddenly everything hurt and she was tumbling towards the ground. She blinked rapidly, looking up to the young man who stood above her, angry expression on his face.
His words had her flushing even as she scrambled to right herself. “I am so sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention at all,” she gushed in apology. “Though scum seems a little harsh... It was an honest mistake,” she continued, voice soft and sheepish, like a scolded child. All the while she hurriedly tried to grab what the man had dropped, only to realize in dismay that it was food, which was now worthless as it had been in the dirt.
Then another fact occurred to her. “You speak Coptic!” she exclaimed loudly, jumping to her feet in excitement. She had studied the language and was rather skilled with the written language. The spoken however... well, she had never had the chance to actually practice it. At least not with any person who could actually correct her on matters of pronunciation.
“Please, let me at least replace your food. Anything you want. It’s the least I can do after such carelessness. And... there is something I’d like to discuss with you if you could spare the time.” As she spoke, she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes, so full of remorse as she pleaded with him.
“I promise it will be worth your while. Please sir.”
It felt nice to have a little bit of normalcy again.
Things had felt beyond chaotic ever since her father returned from the dead. It was all that Essa could do to try and hold her family together, to try and make sense of the truly unimaginable. Even her stories barely provided a suitable distraction. After all, her life had come up with a twist to beat them all. She’d been so busy trying to help everyone around her, the poor girl had barely given herself time to come to terms with her own feelings on the matter.
After all, her mother always told her that Drakos women had to be strong. Had to put emotion aside to do what needed to be done. For once, Essa had done just that. As strange as that notion was for the daughter whose emotions always swayed her.
So she had slipped away to the market. Perhaps she would find a gift or two to cheer up her family. Something that would help Imeeya loosen her outrage or her mother to steady... or something to make her father - a perfect stranger - somehow love and adore her. Essa had always loved the marketplace. Not only was there so many incredible things to look at and marvel over, but so many incredible people as well. People she would never have an opportunity to meet otherwise. Here, she could just be a person rather than a noble, blissfully unaware that the fine dyes of her chiton and the jewels she wore easily gave away the truth of her position.
There were a million sights to draw her eyes, and Essa quickly lost herself in them, gazing up and around as she casually strolled through the marketplace. Pretending for just a moment that she was carefree. And then suddenly everything hurt and she was tumbling towards the ground. She blinked rapidly, looking up to the young man who stood above her, angry expression on his face.
His words had her flushing even as she scrambled to right herself. “I am so sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention at all,” she gushed in apology. “Though scum seems a little harsh... It was an honest mistake,” she continued, voice soft and sheepish, like a scolded child. All the while she hurriedly tried to grab what the man had dropped, only to realize in dismay that it was food, which was now worthless as it had been in the dirt.
Then another fact occurred to her. “You speak Coptic!” she exclaimed loudly, jumping to her feet in excitement. She had studied the language and was rather skilled with the written language. The spoken however... well, she had never had the chance to actually practice it. At least not with any person who could actually correct her on matters of pronunciation.
“Please, let me at least replace your food. Anything you want. It’s the least I can do after such carelessness. And... there is something I’d like to discuss with you if you could spare the time.” As she spoke, she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes, so full of remorse as she pleaded with him.
“I promise it will be worth your while. Please sir.”
’I am so sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention at all. Though scum seems a little harsh… It was an honest mistake.’
Whoa. What? She’d understood him? He frowned, his angry look shifting more to suspicion as he watched her scrambling to pick up his lost food. She seemed to realize the futility of the action quickly enough. Kyros was not happy about the loss of food. He was about to turn and walk away when her sudden exclamation of ’You speak Coptic!’ made him snap his attention back to her, his hands going to his daggers at his hips – gripping but not drawing them forth.
’Please, let me at least replace your food. … there is something I’d like to discuss with you if you could space the time.’
He narrowed his grey gaze on her, his jaw set firmly, his muscles tense and ready to spring into action. ”No,” he replied in a curt tone, this time speaking Greek.
’I promise it will be worth your while. Please sir.’
Kyros scowled at the petite woman. The only thing that would be worth his while would be money. Maybe a good roll in the hay as it’d been a while since he’d allowed himself such carnal pleasures, but mostly money. Not that he had any interest in bedding anyone of the status she obviously held considering how she was dressed. His eyes roved over those clothes, pausing at the jewels she wore. He flicked his gaze back up to meet her eyes, an idea forming that will either prove to be lucrative or it would chase this troublesome girl away. ”Twenty drachmae pieces. And the food. I will give you one hour of my time.” He could buy new clothes and new leather armor for a few of those golden coins, and leave him with a good stash of money to get buy while he figured out his next move. Even if she negotiated it to half that price, the mercenary figure he could make do with that. Besides, he was sort of curious why this noble would have anything to discuss with him simply because he spoke Coptic.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
’I am so sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention at all. Though scum seems a little harsh… It was an honest mistake.’
Whoa. What? She’d understood him? He frowned, his angry look shifting more to suspicion as he watched her scrambling to pick up his lost food. She seemed to realize the futility of the action quickly enough. Kyros was not happy about the loss of food. He was about to turn and walk away when her sudden exclamation of ’You speak Coptic!’ made him snap his attention back to her, his hands going to his daggers at his hips – gripping but not drawing them forth.
’Please, let me at least replace your food. … there is something I’d like to discuss with you if you could space the time.’
He narrowed his grey gaze on her, his jaw set firmly, his muscles tense and ready to spring into action. ”No,” he replied in a curt tone, this time speaking Greek.
’I promise it will be worth your while. Please sir.’
Kyros scowled at the petite woman. The only thing that would be worth his while would be money. Maybe a good roll in the hay as it’d been a while since he’d allowed himself such carnal pleasures, but mostly money. Not that he had any interest in bedding anyone of the status she obviously held considering how she was dressed. His eyes roved over those clothes, pausing at the jewels she wore. He flicked his gaze back up to meet her eyes, an idea forming that will either prove to be lucrative or it would chase this troublesome girl away. ”Twenty drachmae pieces. And the food. I will give you one hour of my time.” He could buy new clothes and new leather armor for a few of those golden coins, and leave him with a good stash of money to get buy while he figured out his next move. Even if she negotiated it to half that price, the mercenary figure he could make do with that. Besides, he was sort of curious why this noble would have anything to discuss with him simply because he spoke Coptic.
’I am so sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t paying attention at all. Though scum seems a little harsh… It was an honest mistake.’
Whoa. What? She’d understood him? He frowned, his angry look shifting more to suspicion as he watched her scrambling to pick up his lost food. She seemed to realize the futility of the action quickly enough. Kyros was not happy about the loss of food. He was about to turn and walk away when her sudden exclamation of ’You speak Coptic!’ made him snap his attention back to her, his hands going to his daggers at his hips – gripping but not drawing them forth.
’Please, let me at least replace your food. … there is something I’d like to discuss with you if you could space the time.’
He narrowed his grey gaze on her, his jaw set firmly, his muscles tense and ready to spring into action. ”No,” he replied in a curt tone, this time speaking Greek.
’I promise it will be worth your while. Please sir.’
Kyros scowled at the petite woman. The only thing that would be worth his while would be money. Maybe a good roll in the hay as it’d been a while since he’d allowed himself such carnal pleasures, but mostly money. Not that he had any interest in bedding anyone of the status she obviously held considering how she was dressed. His eyes roved over those clothes, pausing at the jewels she wore. He flicked his gaze back up to meet her eyes, an idea forming that will either prove to be lucrative or it would chase this troublesome girl away. ”Twenty drachmae pieces. And the food. I will give you one hour of my time.” He could buy new clothes and new leather armor for a few of those golden coins, and leave him with a good stash of money to get buy while he figured out his next move. Even if she negotiated it to half that price, the mercenary figure he could make do with that. Besides, he was sort of curious why this noble would have anything to discuss with him simply because he spoke Coptic.
