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Post by darkacheron on Jul 25, 2006 4:07:24 GMT -5
the whole Caravan seemed to jolt to life.....awakening Razael from his slumber.....
it had been three full days of traveling, but they had made it to the town of Okira. Okira was a town fabled to have streets embeded with diamonds and houses of pure gold. yes, the market here was blooming and lush, despite the terrible conditions of the land.....the dry and arid Desert region. the whole town was quite a spectical, with it's bountiful merchents with haggling prices, the vivid street preformers who danced wildly with fire and juggled for mere change of the passerby, and the surprisingly tall adobe buildings. the square seemed like a Palace in the red sun.
Razael was not impressed. as far as he was concerned, they still were stuck in the bloody Desert.
Razael shook the sleep from his body, hefting the supplies that had fallen atop him in the sudden stop. he could hear the voices of perhaps three men, one he had been accustomed to hearing, the Caravan leader, and two others. apparently they were arguing, and it was getting heated, and the temper of people in the Desert sun seemed to boil in their blood.
GUARD 1: "just give us the tax, and no problems will be made
CARAVAN LEADER: " i refuse! to what do i owe the Fire emporer!"
the leader, obviously flustered, stood from the seat of the wagon
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Post by darkacheron on Jul 26, 2006 0:11:42 GMT -5
Razael sat in the back of the Caravan, listening as the three banter.....
"...perhaps this is where my services are in need?"
he smiled to himself as he stood from his knelt position....inching his way to the Carvan's back exit....
GUARD 2: "it is by direct order of the advisor of the Emporer's...."
CARAVAN LEADER: he cut off the guard sharply, spitting and then speaking in his heated, Arabic tone
"...i don't care if it was my own mother who placed the taxes! i won't pay!"
Razael seemed to appear from nowhere, and as far as the others were concerned, he had appeared from nowhere.
"...that won't be necessary..."
the three all gave their own gesture of confusion...this finely dressed, smooth talking man interveining at his own expense?....but Razael was quick to respond...
"....my good men, surely you know a toll inspector when you see one?"
the Guard responded quickly.....obviously the most idiotic of the three and trying to regain some ground of intellegence, and perhaps importance...
GUARD 1: "ah...yes, of course you are!"
...they were playing straight into his hands....
"it has come to my attention there is a problem here...."
Razael smirked, supressing a laugh as all three bumbling men peered at one another, the caravan leader speaking up first
CARAVAN LEADER: "these two refuse to let me enter!"
Razael nodded, humming his understanding....
GUARD 2: " by order of the royal finiancial advisor to the throne, all entrants to the city of Okira..."
Razael playfully finished his sentence
"...must pay a fee of six shillings. i am quite aquainted with the laws my good man."
Razael was overjoyed with his incredible acting skills....and the fact that he had lived in the Desert for so long made him adaquitly aquainted with the laws.
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Post by darkacheron on Jul 27, 2006 2:33:48 GMT -5
Razael straightened his collar, smirking and finally speaking up in his bold, charismatic voice.
"...what seems to be the problem?"
the Caravan leader, obviously the most anxious of the three, was the first to speak up
CARAVAN LEADER: "these men will not let me enter!! i owe the Emperor nothing!!"
the man was an intresting sight....his hot-tempered Arabic accent becoming more fierce with every annoyance, and in comparison to all the others around him, he was very short. he hpooed about maddly as he shouted vehemently, like a child in fine white traveling garb....
Razael clasped his hands together behind his back, and walked tall and formally over to the small Arabic merchent....bending over and staring him right in the eye....
"....perhaps you do. it all depends on what you might be destributing underneeth that canvas top on your Caravan, hmmm?"
every syllable stung in the Caravan Leaders ear like a hostile hornet, as Razael took care in pronouncing every word with the utmost care. his eyebrow rasied at the Caravan Leader, who's once angered attitude siftened to a look of complete surprise....
the sudden pause made the Guards suspicious....they began reaching for their swords, but the Carvan Leader acted swiftly to save his merchandise....
"...ah, and a fine Emporer she is! deserves every shilling!"
he donned the most disguting smile he could muster, and delved within his pocket to recieve a satchel of shillings, extending it to the Gaurds, who instinctively reached out to recieve it....
however, within a flash, the satchel lay in Razael's hand, as he tossed it playfully, the coin's inside jangling about
"...my good men i will have you know i am quite well aquainted with the tax collecter here, and for no charge, will deliver this myself!"
Razael smirked, and took a sweeping bow to his victims, his Rapier clanking at his side.
"good day!"
and with that, Razael stowed away the satchel, turned about face, and formally walked down the desert street....
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Post by darkacheron on Jul 30, 2006 19:47:08 GMT -5
Razael was perhaps the most notoriuos con-artist alive. he had pulled such a stunt on many an unsuspecting traveler, and mercilessly had robbed them of their riches. relishing in his ill-gotten goods, he decided not to thieve his next victum, and bought a loaf of bread...walking the streets while enjoying it.
passing by a rather shaded alley, Razael decides to take refuge from the sun and further enjoy his loaf of bread. leaning against the adobe wall, he hums to himself as he takes another moist bite of the rich bread.
"...drop your money and the bread, and run...."
a harsh and demanding tone pierces the cool air of the alley, as Razael opens his eyes to the sharp edges of cold steel....a poorly dressed and scrany looking man held the blade near Razael's neck, so close that if Razael were to attempt to swallow, the sword would stop it from traveling any further....
to the man's surprise, Razael laughed
"....and is i don't my rancid smelling fellow man?"
his words came out somewhat mockingly, perhaps because he still had a rather large chunk of bread still within his jowels.
the man's expression grew frustrated, as he pressed the blade closer to Razael's neck
"then i kill you here and take your money and the food in your mouth anyway!"
the man's hot breath reeked of alchohol, and many of his teeth were either rotted or missing...Razael winced from his fowl oder as he came forward to speak these forceful words to his face...
Razael couldn't help but retort....
"....good sir, you need not use the blade! i am dying simply of the horrid aura that is your stench!"
the man was aghast, obviously awestruck that anyone would insult their assailant such. this gave Razael what he wanted. time. time enough to reach the hilt of his Rapier and crash it against the other man's blade. sparks emited from the collision, as the stunned man was knocked back in surprise.
"...now, let us dance!"
Razael presented a charming, yet slightly insane grin upon his face, before swinging his Rapier by his right side tauntingly, placing himself in a fierce fencing stance....
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Post by darkacheron on Aug 1, 2006 19:40:27 GMT -5
the scrawny adversary regained his footing, bounding up to slice Razael vertically with his large blade...
but to his horror, and surprise, his sword struck the hard ground, while Razael had easily sidesteped and now stood tauntingly at his side....
"....surely you can move faster then that!"
the man grew aggitated, swinging his blade maddly at Razael horizontally, but as before, Razael dexteriously sidled back, the blade completely missing it's mark
"....you are begining to dissappoint me!"
swing after swing, dodge after dodge, taunt after taunt, the man was keen on making at least on mark upon the extremely annoying Razael, but to no avail. it took only moments before the homeless man grew too weak to even lift the blade.
"...all worn down, are we? perhaps you should rest?"
and with that, Razael struck his head with the hilt of his sword....knocking him out cold upon the arid desert street....
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Post by darkacheron on Aug 23, 2006 0:29:09 GMT -5
perhaps too many days in the sun had caused him to want to fight, or perhaps becuase he had not fought any opponant for a very long time. either chioce had driven him to knock out the less than defensless but rather unlucky homeless man.
emerging from the alley fully refreshed and awaken from the lazy day, Razael shiethes his weapon and sets out once again to claim the town his own...or at least that is what is presumed by the reader. no, it is true that Razael had grown to loathe the desert, and he was more than willing to take leave as soon as he could. using the remainder of what money he had, he paid for a caravan ride to some place he had always wished to go...the dark caverns city of Darkon....
little did he know of the fate that awaited him there...
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