A DAY AT THE MARKET PART II

[Arianna]

Jezel entered her home and immediately began unfastening the straps and buckles that held about fifty pounds of steel to her body. She wouldn't want to go into battle with out it, but some days she wondered if it was worth it. it took time to undo all the buckles, and lift the myriad of pieces, inspect each one for dents, rust, and holes. not to mention the problem of chaffing if the metal became badly dented... Thankfully her latest excursion into the heartland of Dasaria had been almost uneventful... nothing more troublesome than an Ogre hunting party, which she was able to avoid. Since they weren't a raiding party, she decided to let them be.

Jezel made her way to her private training room where she kept all her assorted weapons and armors, carefully, removed each sword, she usually carried four on patrol but this time had only taken her two favorites, Dark Whispers, and Haldirs Gift, the two sword were of different materials and their enchantments were polar opposites, Dark whispers a finely crafted blade of dark steel, and enchanted with negative energy, which weakened any opponent it touched quickly leaving them weak and slow, and Haldirs gift,equally well crafted of Silver, and enchanted with positive energy, leaving any evil creature such as howlings, vampires, and the like writhing in pain once the edge had drawn blood.

The Blade Mistress stowed each weapon in it's proper place, inspected her armor one more just to be sure it was in ready condition, then walked out of the practice room and entered her sleeping chamber next door. She wasn't as particular with the padded cotton tunic and trews she ware under her armor, pulling them off and tossing them in a heap, in the corner, smiling as she imagined what her adopted sister Arianna would say if she saw.

Jezel looked longingly at the bath tub, but decided she didn't have time if she was going to meet her other adopted sister Sar'Lenis at the market grounds, opting instead for a quick rinse with tepid water she combed out her hair and grimaced with disgust as the cog got stuck several times in the tangled mess... she kept telling herself she was going to cut her rich auburn locks off and walk around bald, but she never would, her hair was a source of pride to her almost as great as her prowess with a sword.

After combing all the tangles and knots out she look in the mirror and and sighed, Sar'Lenis would have to wait, there was no way she was going out in public till she at least washed her hair.

Jezel wished Arianna was here being a wizard she could probably work a spell to instantly return Jezels hair to it natural shiny luster, but she would have to settle for doing it the old fashioned way, water, lavender scented soap, and vigorous finger work.


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Omahran exited his room at the Misty Vale inn, he could easily afford to reside in one of the bigger inns in the city proper or for that matter buy the largest villa in the empress court section of town, but he liked the Inn.. The Inns owner had no prejudges against half breeds, and it was close to the outer gates of the city. The Misty Vales patrons were a mixture of locals and wandering adventurers, and mercenaries. Master Roggins treated everyone the same, as long as you paid on time caused no trouble for the other guests and patrons, you were welcome. In fact the Inn Keeper appreciated having some of his long term guests there, many of whom had reputations in the surrounding lands as being good with a sword or axe, and a strong sense of justice.

Being half Orc, Omahran didn't have many friends in Cear, but he was friends with another of the Inns full time guests. She was a remarkably cute little girl, who unless you saw her ears you would never know she was also a half blood, though her non human blood came from the Elven race.

Her name was Sar'Lenis Volkmur, and once Omahran had heard her story, he never again regretted his own lonely youth. The young half elf was so cute and inquisitive, meeting her made you want to wrap her up and protect her. Omahran couldn't explain it, it just was. Anyone who's basic orientation was the light felt the same whether they knew her or not. Though watching the girl one quickly learned there was little the young half elf couldn't talk or fight her way out of, and it seemed there were always a couple of acquaintances with in ear shot, the girl was friends with an amazingly high number of people having been in Cear for only a year.

Omah waved to the Inn Keeper as he left the Misty Vale and headed toward the market, already awash with the cacophony of hammers, shouted orders, curses, and a few people already hawking their wares to the earliest of potential customers.

Omah entered the market grounds and his arrival brought the preparations to a stand still. His physical size alone would make people stare, he topped seven feet by several inches and had to turn sideways to go through the average doorway. If these traits weren't enough to make one stare, the thick eye ridge and brow, square face, and overly large lower canine teeth which could easily be called fangs or tusks, announcing his mixed parentage would.

Half Orcs were universally mistrusted.The over whelming majority born to human mothers, for what human would willing bed an Orc, were the product of rape. The Orc clans usually rejected such children for having impure blood lines, and the humans rejected them as being an abomination against the gods. So the children unfortunate enough to survive tended to find each other and form bands of raiders, or mercenaries... Humans may not want them in their towns but they would seek them out and hire them as guards, fighters, or enforcers. They tended to be terse, unfriendly and offended easily, resulting in the shedding of blood, and broken furnishings, not to mention bones.

Omahran being unique among this class of Dasarian denizens. Having been born to a human mother. not due to rape but as a payment for services rendered, was raised on a humans estate, in the far north western corner of the province, when he was ten his mother was accused of and executed for murdering her husband thus bringing to an end the decade long border war between the Volk clans, and the Dasarians. To further ensure the peace Omahran was named the sole heir of the lands and villa he grew up in, though denied the titles that usually went with such a large estate.

The towns folk preparing for market day weren't frightened at least not outwardly, everyone knew of Omahran the richest Orc in all the Empire. The fact that he was a land owner made most merchants willing to allow him into their shops and taverns, and if they took the time to speak with him found that he was educated, intelligent, charming, fairly even tempered, and had a good sense of humor. If he considered you a friend it was for life, if he considered you an enemy, well lets say it would be best for you to relocate to the other end of the Empire, as fast as arrangements could be made.

Omahran waved to a few of the local merchants he recognized, and was rewarded with a wave and a few smiles in return. He scanned the area looking for a stall selling the savory meat pies he had been smelling since he stepped out of the Inn. Finding his intended destination he made haste, a frame as large as his needed copious amounts of food to keep it going. On the way he passed a traveling acting troupe setting up their stage. The appearance of such a prominent figure caused the boy standing atop the twenty foot ladder holding the cross beam intended to hold the curtain up stop what he was supposed to be doing and stare mouth agape, which resulted in his losing his balance. falling backward of the ladder and letting the crossbeam come crashing down onto the stage. Omah look up in time to see the boys fall, and the falling beam. reaching out with one huge hand he caught the beam and prevented it from smashing through the stage, while he stretched the other arm out and managed to snag the boys tunic before the lad hit the ground possibly killing or maiming himself.

Setting the boy on his feet, and gently lowering the beam to the ground. Omah turned to the lad put a hand on his shoulder and asked if the boy was injured. The boy was stunned, not only from narrow escape from injury or death, but from hearing an Orc speak perfect Common.

Before Omah could ask once more if the boy was injured. he managed to find his voice and assured Omahran that he was unhurt, and thanked Omah profusely for saving him. The boy was up to his thirtieth thank you when the troupe leader, who it turned out was also the boy father came running up to ask what happened. Upon seeing Omahran towering over his son, he panicked and grabbed for one of the hammers the workers used to pound in nails, luckily for him one of the workers managed to grab an arm and pull the man to a stop, quickly explaining that the Orc had just saved not only his sons life, but also saving them a ruined stage.

The father calmed after a few deep breaths, let the hammer fall to the ground, smoothed his tunic, took one more deep breath, and with the appearance of a lot more calmness than he felt approached his son and his savior.

He stepped up to Omaran offered his hand in friendship, and introduced himself as Hermes Langston, and ruffling the boys hair "and this fortunate young man is my son Warren"... "Thank you for saving my son. If there is anything I can offer it is yours for the asking"

Omah took the mans hand as gently as he could not wanting to crush the bones, shook it once and as he let go shrugged and told Hermes that no reward was necessary, he was just happy he was there to help.

As Omahran was making his goodbyes, from behind him he heard a light playful feminine voice " you know, you keep saving people, and being polite, you're going to ruin the reputation of all half orcs the world over"

Hermes and Warren went white with fear, no one in their right mind would taunt an Orc half blood or not. They were both about to flee for their lives, for an Orc in a rage didn't distinguish between friend, foe or inanimate object. if it was with in arms reach, it suffered a painful demise.

To their bewilderment not only did Omahran not fly into a rage.. he straightened up and smiled broadly, and retorted " and if you don't stop sneaking up on people, you might find yourself turned over someones knee and taught a lesson in proper behavior.

"as if some lumbering lout such as you could ever catch me"

Omah shot his arm back grabbed his tormenter's shirt and brought her around to face him lifting her effortlessly to his eye level. Staring into a face so cute and innocent looking it would make even an Ice Trolls heart melt, he rumbled. Your not to cute to eat little one, Omah licked his lips and bared his fangs for emphasis. The girl held in the air giggled and her reply dripped with feigned innocence and fear.

"Oh please Sir Orc! don't eat me! I'm too cute to eat, and I'm so small I wouldn't make a satisfying snack let alone a meal.

Hermes being an actor for over twenty years knew instantly that this scene was all for show stood by quietly observing the exchange. Warren not having his fathers experience yelped, and rushed forward, and grabbed Omahs thick forearm trying to pull it down, pleading with Omahran not to eat the poor girl.

Omahran and the girl both stopped talking and looked down at Warren who by this time was swinging freely on Omahrans arm his feet clear of the ground by almost a foot. They couldn't contain their laughter, and before Omahran set Sar'lenis on the ground, she grabbed both his tusks leaned in and kissed him lightly. "you're so ugly your cute"

" And you're more trouble than your worth...why am I friends with such an unruly child like you"

" because I'm so damned adorable " this said with a coquettish turn of the head and an exaggerated fluttering of the eyelashes.

" Hah that you are little one... that you are"

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Dajor made his way from the slavers study, down the stairs, and through the main floor rooms, unseen, grateful that most people who lived on the wrong side of legal kept few people around, the less eyes and ears, the less likely their activities would be brought to the attention of rivals, or the authorities.

It had only been a few years since slavery had been abolished in Dasaria, so many who had become quite wealthy by buying and selling people had been wiped out financially, or had lost their heads to the Empress's justice. The few who evaded the Ax, and financial ruin, were either too powerful, or too circumspect in their business affairs to be caught.

Dajors latest contract was one of the latter. The slave trade was still a lucrative business. In fact since the practice had become illegal the profits for those few remaining soared, as they were able to charge a lot more per item as competition from buyers more intense.

Slipping out the front door, Dajor scanned the court yard to make sure he was alone..it was early in the morning still the few servants employed by the recently deceased, busy with preparing breakfast for the master, or eating their own before another day of mundane drudgery. Dajor figured he had less than half a candle mark before the body was discovered, by that time he would be well away from the scene and enjoying his own morning repast.

As he slipped quietly away from the house in the merchants quarter, Dajor took notice of the tall, attractive, red headed warrior, wearing the unmistakable colours of the mercenary band calling themselves The Vanguard, a dozen steps in front of him. He stopped and assessed the situation. Had she seen him leave the house? Did he need to do something to protect his identity? Another dead body, this one obviously the victim of foul play so close to a "robbery" resulting in the death of the home owner would definitely draw the attention of the Fleet, who had taken over most of the duties of investigation's into serious crimes from the inept city watch. a fair number of whom could be convinced to look anywhere but where they should with a couple of gold emperors.

Dajor decided to follow the warrior to see if she would alert the watch to some suspicious activity in the area. Keeping the red head in sight, Dajor followed, noting that the warrior's demeanor, didn't suggest she had any concerns other than getting to where she was going.

He noted that her posture indicated that the warrior was ever alert to the possibility of danger, and quite confident that she was up to the task of dealing with it. He watched the woman enter the Emperess Court section and thought about turning around. He was dressed well but not as well as the residents of the swankiest neighbourhood in the City.

Dajor did wonder why a member of the Vanguard, the largest, and most well known mercenary band in Dasaria would be invited to a residence in this quarter of town. Most nobles Dajor knew would never let it be known they were acquainted with people of such ilk.

It took a minute before everything fell into place. A tall attractive red head, obviously a trained and experienced warrior, member of the mercenary band The Vanguard, the woman he had been following could only be the Sword Mistress Jezel Kelandon.

Dajor sighed, he was glad the woman didn't act like she was aware of what was going on as she passed the slavers house. If she had known something was wrong Dajor was convinced she would have investigated on her own. The warrior woman had a strong reputation through out Darsaia, that seemed to grow daily, She was known to be independent, intelligent, unrivaled in skill with a blade of any size, and an annoying habit of sticking her nose into things she shouldn't. It was well known that she had her own sense of justice and honour that didn't always coincide with the law of the land, especially when it came to children, and those powerless to defend themselves from injustice. The assassin was convinced that even if she had stuck her nose into his business, once she learned who and what his victim was she would have walked away.

Also he was an assassin, not a warrior, he was proficient with a myriad of weapons and could if called upon acquit himself well in battle, he avoided direct conflict when ever possible, and as he was armed only with a rapier, and a few knives, going up against a Sword Mistress of Miss Kelandons reputation, did not bode well for Dajor. He followed Jezel til he witnessed her enter a villa on a quiet street.. noting that she used a key to unlock the gate.. not the bell rope to announce her presence.

Dajor wondered what the neighbors thought about having a mercenary living next to them. She was considered a noble he supposed since both her parents were Generals, and held large estates in Rell, and she was one of less than a dozen Sword Masters in Dasaria, but still seeing her walk around in the black, grey, and gold colours of the Vanguard probably made them wrinkle their nose and shake their heads.