Post by bentusi16 on Sept 7, 2013 8:31:56 GMT -5
A man meditates on a rock among the misty morning fields of Cormyr. He's not overly tall, nor overly short, but his body is well made, the muscles on his arms strung out like beads. Various jewelries dangle from his face; a nose ring, an earring, several studs. He is clothed all in whites and silvers, excepting his gloves, which have plates of the black-metal adamantine upon them.
Here in the mists, he seems at peace, and radiates calm.
Pull the eye back though, through space and time, westward and north to the coast, nearly ten years before.
Waterdeep! City of splendors, city of light! City of smelly docks. The smell was blowing up the alley past the two groups of youths, which was bad for one side since it meant they'd been pushed into their own territory.
The grope alley gutters had all but finished claiming fifth street, but this last fight would determine things once and for all. Every dockwalk diver knew that this is where the stand would be made for their turf. Hands gripped various instruments of destruction, with favorite among the gutters being the long flexible knives used for fish gutting, while the divers seemed to prefer longshoremans hooks.
Far more often in evidence were brass knuckles, clubs, and of course that old favorite, a small leather bag filled with sand. A red haired youth on the gutters side strode forward, spitting. His voice warbled between a manly baritone and a youthful tenor.
“It's about time we showed you dock-doileys what a real gangs all about!”
“Chew your own ear off, red!” a voice came from the crowd of divers.
It may have surprised those unfamiliar with the more urban world that none of the boys in either gang seemed to have gotten to fifteen years yet, but such an observer would probably also be looking for their nose in a gutter, having stumbled across the groups.
To the one who was observing all this, it was just another sad note in humanities existence.
'Red' raised his hand up and shouted, waving the gutters knife in the air. With a surge the young men of the gutters rolled forward. The divers did the same, longshoremans hooks waving in the air.
Just as the two groups began to collide there was a massive shock of noise and a bright flash of light. Both sides stumbled and weaves, many falling down and clutching their ears. Some shouted about th guardsword bringing in mages to stop them, telling others to flee, but those who tried usually ended up running straight into a wall or tripping over some of the detritus on the streets.
By the time everyone’s head had cleared the fight had gone out them. Both sides eyed the other group, and through some unspoken agreement, decided it was time to be somewhere else being, metaphorically speaking, good little boys.
None among them noticed the absence of a dark haired youth for several hours, but by then arrangements had been made for another gang scuffle.
// For those of you who are unfamilar with the weapons mentioned:
Here in the mists, he seems at peace, and radiates calm.
Pull the eye back though, through space and time, westward and north to the coast, nearly ten years before.
Waterdeep! City of splendors, city of light! City of smelly docks. The smell was blowing up the alley past the two groups of youths, which was bad for one side since it meant they'd been pushed into their own territory.
The grope alley gutters had all but finished claiming fifth street, but this last fight would determine things once and for all. Every dockwalk diver knew that this is where the stand would be made for their turf. Hands gripped various instruments of destruction, with favorite among the gutters being the long flexible knives used for fish gutting, while the divers seemed to prefer longshoremans hooks.
Far more often in evidence were brass knuckles, clubs, and of course that old favorite, a small leather bag filled with sand. A red haired youth on the gutters side strode forward, spitting. His voice warbled between a manly baritone and a youthful tenor.
“It's about time we showed you dock-doileys what a real gangs all about!”
“Chew your own ear off, red!” a voice came from the crowd of divers.
It may have surprised those unfamiliar with the more urban world that none of the boys in either gang seemed to have gotten to fifteen years yet, but such an observer would probably also be looking for their nose in a gutter, having stumbled across the groups.
To the one who was observing all this, it was just another sad note in humanities existence.
'Red' raised his hand up and shouted, waving the gutters knife in the air. With a surge the young men of the gutters rolled forward. The divers did the same, longshoremans hooks waving in the air.
Just as the two groups began to collide there was a massive shock of noise and a bright flash of light. Both sides stumbled and weaves, many falling down and clutching their ears. Some shouted about th guardsword bringing in mages to stop them, telling others to flee, but those who tried usually ended up running straight into a wall or tripping over some of the detritus on the streets.
By the time everyone’s head had cleared the fight had gone out them. Both sides eyed the other group, and through some unspoken agreement, decided it was time to be somewhere else being, metaphorically speaking, good little boys.
None among them noticed the absence of a dark haired youth for several hours, but by then arrangements had been made for another gang scuffle.
// For those of you who are unfamilar with the weapons mentioned: