Probably daggers. [Ari]

[Quietus]

Onderon - Irontown - Market District

"Welcome to Irontown, Arathul."

For his first true venture out into the untamed wilds of Onderon, the young boy Arathul would be tested to limits of which he wasn't even aware existed. Irontown was a place he'd long known of, heard stories about, and perhaps yearned to visit - today he got his wish. Or not. Sometimes it was difficult to tell with him.

He was under Volden's care today, awaiting the Beastia's arrival at sundown when the hunting party would depart. For now, as they stepped out of the small transport shuttle that left them at the heart of the market district, Ari would spend some time learning about the significance of Irontown and doing a bit of supply shopping.

Had to keep the economy healthy, after all.

Irontown wasn't exactly a place fit for a boy his age and, indeed, it did not often see many as young as him. It was a town built upon the backs of Iziz's great criminal population, serving out time outside of their cozy prison walls where their affronts against civilization would be met with a deserving sentence. Irontown wasn't built to be cozy, it was built to break a man-or woman-of their pride. To tear down their personal defenses. To crush everything they were or had been, to show them their insignificance, their frailty amidst some of Onderon's most hellish landscapes.

It did all this and then, upon surviving to the brink, it built a man back up again and gave them new purpose.

Most did not survive to the brink.

"We're going to get you supplies for your hunt in the Market District and then I'll take you to meet the Commander. By then the Beastia should arrive," Volden glanced to the boy with a keen saffron gaze that was telling of the challenges yet to come, "any questions?"

[member="Ari"]

 

[Sunblade]

Arathul Moriir Shamalain looked up at Volden, then at Irontown, and then back again. He frowned.

"It smeeeeeells."

His brow furrowed even further, nose wrinkling up at what he preceived to be a foul odor. Amusingly enough, the wilds of Onderon were rife with scents many would consider far more unpleasant than the stench of decay and sweat permeating the air around here, but to a boy used to the jungle in all its glory, civilization stank far worse than Fambaa dung.

His blue eyes peered curiously at his surroundings regardless, however, and Ari watched with his mouth-half open as shouting merchants yanked their living goods every which way, scrambling to secure the best spot on the market to sell their beasts. Boxed in by a fence, a few nervous Dalgos stood shuffling, peeved by the din of credits changing hands. Opposite the anxious animals was another stall, laden with all manner of shiny objects and trinkets. For some reason, it was beleaguered almost solely by the females of Irontown.

The boy let out a confused sound and craned his neck to the left again, interest shifting already. There, in a nook wrought into the side of a clay wall, stood a small stand, with gleaming metal winking back at Ari as he tried to discern what it was between the countless bodies rushing by. It was rather late already, and the crowds were rushing from their long day on the field to catch the last hours of the market before the merchants packed up again.

Ari took all of this in while his guide kept yapping at the empty air, his words easily floating the Shamalain by, forgotten much like the stench that had bothered him at first.

"Any questions?"

Startled out of his stunned reverie, he finally found his focus drawn back to Volden. "Nah, I'm good," he grinned up at him, dismissive as always. He was looking forward to hunting with mom, not being shoved around by the smelly settlers. As interesting as the market district looked, the people weren't much to his liking.

"Voldeeeen," he tugged on his sleeve to secure his attention, "when is mom coming? I wanna go hunt!"

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

Volden pricked a blond brow at the boy, expression bare at his bemused nature. He gave a short sigh and a forced, thin smile, "Sunset, Arathul. The Beastia arrives at sunset. Come, you will need a hunting bow, arrows, quiver, spear, rations, waterskin...you have your daggers, yes?" of course he did, "Good."

Despite the flow of people the pair walked otherwise uninhibited within what migth've seemed a bubble of respect. Or perhaps fear. Volden's face was well known within Irontown and as was typical, wherever this man went it could safely be assumed the Beastia wasn't far behind.

Heavily armed guards patrolled the square, heads on a swivel, weapons at ready, while at their backs the first rise of protective barriers speared the skies. Three separate walls of high-intensity electrified wires, each outer level more powerful than the last, surrounded the entirety of the circular Irontown while overhead criss-crossing lines of reinforced cables attached to tall guard towers slashed across the view of puffy white clouds and the wide blue yonder. These were both defensive measures to keep the beasts out but it created no amount of comfort for its residents.

It was also there to keep them in.

Thup.

An exotic feathered bird, blue wings singed and smoking from a run-in with the sky-wires, landed on their path twitching. Didn't take long for someone to snatch it up - a free meal was a free meal, even if a bit burnt.

"Hm," Volden smirked and took [member="Ari"] by the shoulder, steering the boy down the lane of Tribe Merchants and into a large, permanent covered wooden structure. Here the smells would be more familiar - all around were the wares and goods of the jungle and mountain tribes. Fresh fish hung from strings at one booth; massive cuts of meat, ribs, legs and other manner of beastly delicacies at another; the tanner from the Highriver Clan was here with pelts and skins and strung leather for sale; across from him the great weapon-smiths of the Carden Crags - this is where Volden lead him.

"Ruja'mir," he said to the woman behind the tables presently sharpening arrow-heads, "hat'ya'haj."

"Lor Vuldan," a toothy grin within her painted face, Ari would easily recognize the heavy accent of the local Tribe language, "hat'ya ... is yat heem?"

Volden nodded and pressed Ari forward, "Yes. He needs outfitted for his first hunt. Ari, this is Ruja'mir, First Apprentice to the great Weaponsmith Stalh'met'ka. Your daggers were made by Ruja."

"Haaaaaaa, yih?" Ruja zeroed a wolfish smile on the boy, one eye of blue and one of brown honing in on the small daggers his side, "Show me."

 

[Sunblade]

“Uuugh. She always makes me wait!”

He stomped his feet a few times in protest, but quickly enough his attention was diverted again, and the tantrum passed as fast as it had appeared.

He allowed himself to be led forward by the tall, stoic man, trailing behind him in the swath he cut through the otherwise packed square with an inexplicable lack of effort. Ari wanted that power too, one day; to just walk through a crowd and have everyone part for him to pass. It would be awesome.

In the meantime, he had opportunity to observe even more of these strange folk that lived here. None of them looked like they knew how to smile, their faces grim, with hard eyes facing ever forward. Even though there was a lot of chatter, just like back at the tribe, it felt different. Nobody was laughing, and everyone wanted something from somebody else.

Weird.

Finally, the pair of them took another turn,and Volden led him down a more familiar path. If he narrowed his eyes and let the background ruckus fade away, he could almost imagine that he was back home. Almost.

Without fear, the boy proudly strode to the denoted stall, blueish-purplish eyes gleaming as he took in the familiar weapons on display. The wood beneath them was worn and cut in many places, and the skins in which they were wrapped didn’t look much better. Still, for Ari, this was far superior to the fancy weapons some people back at the tribe liked to talk about.

Ha! Blasters.

“Hat’ya, Ruja,” he replied easily grinning right back as he grabbed the pair of daggers on his belt. With care, Ari presented them to the smirking craftswoman, inching forward to see what she would do. The table was a bit tall for him still, and he had to stand on his toes to really see what was going on.

“They’re the best daggers,” he informed her with a sage nod. “Do you make the best bows too? Because I want one. And and- oh! the best arrows too!”

“Can I?”


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

"Ahhh," Ruja took up the daggers, holding them in the light and tutting, "is dull, I weel make yem sharp again, you will see," she snickered then, setting the daggers aside on the table, "Ruja has many good yings for Beastia's zhadow."

"He will be needing a bow set," Volden said, "and a spear as well. Do you craft them small enough?"

"Yiiiiih," she pushed aside a bench stand, "come come 'ittle zhadow. 'et Ruja see," a giggle, a cheshire grin, she bounced into a stoop as the boy came 'round the table. Ruja grabbed a nearby carved staff and held it up to him, tying a beaded string at his height before frog-crawling back into a corner to pick through a selection of bows. She muttered to herself, pulling bow after bow; sniffing them, holding one up to her ear, giving another a test bite.

Finally the woman's eyes lit up as she pulled a deep black bow from the end, her calloused fingers smoothing over its surface with dawning recognition. She glanced to [member="Ari"] with an excited noise and quickly strung the bow, "Black Eldar for Beastia's zhadow, yiiiih. Come come, try it!"

She held it out to him. A small bow, flexible from use, with a stiff grip of drexl hide. It was not ornate but it was reliably sprung and much harder to pull than the bows Ari was used to target practicing with. His strength would be put to the test.

 

[Sunblade]

Ari watched with his mouth slightly open as Ruja danced around her stall, talking to herself more than him. Her fingers were quick, her movements nimble as she picked up bow after bow, inspecting each with a keen eye — or a sharp tooth, here and there — until finally she presented a smooth black thing to the boy, dark as the coals of a dead fire, and just as cold to the touch.

He wrapped his small fingers around the grip with care, brushing his thumb against the rough texture of the leather before holding it up properly.

Without bothering to ask, Ari snatched one of the smaller arrows off the table beside him and nocked it with its fletches properly aligned. Raising his chin, the boy glanced around for an appropriate target, and of course found one in a stray bird that had somehow made it through the lattice of wires criss-crossing the firmament above Irontown.

With a devilish grin, he widened his stance and righted his shoulders just as he'd been taught, letting the string bite into the pads of his fingers as he pulled it taut.

Or, well, tried to.

He let out a small noise of affronted surprise, looking at the bow in his grasp accusingly. He tried again.

And failed. Again.

"It's… not…" he grunted and furrowed his brow in stubborn determination, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he did his damnedest to draw the string far enough to shoot. His pride was on the line, for gods'sake!

With a huff, the boy pulled again, except that this time, he drew not only on the string, but also on the living Force surrounding them, and emerged successful. Wasting little time, Ari took aim, released his breath, and with it the arrow, sending it flying towards the poor creature resting atop the roof.

"Ha! By gods, I'm good."

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

THUP.

The arrow stuck in a wooden support beam a foot to the left of the bird, sending it flapping away with a sqwuak.

Slate-faced, Volden bobbed his eyebrows at the miss and gently cleared his throat, "A good effort. Thank the Gods your actual targets will be thrice the size..."

"Hee-heee," the giggling weaponsmith ruffled a hand over [member="Ari"]'s head and went about collecting arrows and a quiver for him. Nimble fingers assisted in cutting a proper strap length for the quiver, fitting it to the boy's small frame and securing it into place. "Black Eldar arrows are har' to make," she informed him, "an not often yis short," a smirk, she tickled his nose with the fletching before placing the last arrow into the quiver, "every shot must count! And now...now you need a spear..."

 

[Sunblade]

"Oh."

His proud face fell the moment he realized he'd missed, but the shadow of disappointment was soon dispelled by Ruja's snickering. He twitched slightly as she ruffled his hair, opening his mouth to inform her that she couldn't do that, but the blacksmith was already moving on.

The boy sneezed when dusty feathers tickled his nose, wiping away at his sleeve as he stood there, looking rather lost. The babbling craftswoman kept dancing around him, and Ari kept pivoting on the spot, doing his best to track what she was doing and failing miserably.

Before long, he found himself straining on the tips of his toes, then having his arms yanked out and extended, all without being asked a single question. Ruja simply went on, explaining what sort of wood the haft of the spear was made of even as she measured it against Ari's height, marking the cutoff point with a quick swipe of charcoal.

The smooth wood was then stuck into his waiting palm as the woman went to rummage behind her stall for a spearhead of sufficient size, and for the first time in minutes, Ari had time to look up at Volden with a scathing glare.

Shamalains do not forgive, and they do not forget.

"Next time, I'll be shooting at you," he mouthed menacingly and narrowed his eyes for good measure.

Then bony fingers grasped his chin and abruptly brought him face-to-face with the grinning woman. His first instinct was to take a cautious step back, but Ruja was already relieving him of the haft to affix to it the gleaming metal point.

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

"Indeed," Volden replied with a bored expression, "I am a'quiver with fear. Ruja, a'fen?"

A short dialogue between the Lord and the Merchant, quick and stilted with the Tribal tongue, found Volden inquiring as to payment. Typically the deep-tribes did not care for credits as they held little value to an otherwise isolated territory. But Ruja, to his surprise, was eager for them.

She was set to travel to Iziz for trade and also, shockingly, for education.

"Wan learn Baseek more," Ruja said, trilling tattooed fingers at her lips, "make better trade, ha?"

"Naturally," he replied, digging into the contents of his traveling robes to fish out the required fee, "better trade is good for the economy. But you in a civilized setting ... that's just a terrifying prospect."

"Haaaa?" Ruja gave an open-mouthed grin at him as she accepted the payment with a greedy laugh, "mey-waa."

"Come along little Zhadow," the man motioned for Ari to step out from the booth, "we'll stop back to pick up your daggers before tonight. Say tsu-ya to Ruja."

[member="Ari"]

a'fen = finished?
mey-waa = very good/excellent
tsu'ya = thank you

 

[Sunblade]

Even though it bothered him when she was fawning all over him, Ari immediately found himself bored once Ruja's attention shifted to Volden instead of him. Yawning pointedly, the boy tapped his foot against the beaten soil that served as the ground around here. Honestly, it unnerved him. He was far more used to the rustle of underbrush and leaves, the snap of twigs and the chirping of animals whenever he walked somewhere. The complete absence of any such noises made him more than a little unnerved, now that he started thinking about it more.

It was… unnatural.

He frowned even more when Volden instructed him on what to do, but conceded when he remembered the weight of the bow in his grip.

"Tsu-ya," he grumbled and then quickly ran after the taller man. He didn't want to get lost in this strange city, and though dusk was closing in, there were still a lot of people in the streets. Hard, mean-looking people.

Ari shied away from a few and meandered his way through the throng until he caught up with Volden, knuckles white around the black wood of his bow. His short fingers wrapped tightly on the flowing fabric of his sleeve, and the boy proceeded to cling to his guide something fierce until they made it to the next stall.

Instantly, he was roused from his discomfort by the familiar smell of tanned hide and tempered leather. With a smile, he slipped inside the fur-covered tent, inhaling deeply of home.

"What am I getting, Volden?"


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

"A waterskin," Volden replied loud enough for the merchant to hear as they entered, "and a new journey pack."

The merchant, a very large man with a thick beard and dark, beady eyes, turned like a mountain with two very large items in his equally impressive, calloused hands.

Volden sucked air through his teeth, comparing the size of them to the boy, "A bit smaller, I think. We need a pack for the boy, not a boy for the pack. Do you see something you like, Ari?"

[member="Ari"]

 

[Sunblade]

Ari gnawed thoughtfully on his upper lip with his pointed little teeth for a few moments, his jaw jutting out in a rather comical manner as he stared critically at the two items in the merchant's hands. He tapped his foot against the beaten soil before strolling past the towering man as if he were nothing more than another article on display.

Suckling on his thumb as he perused the wares, the boy babbled on and on about how he was going to hunt down every animal east of Irontown with his new bow. Blissfully ignorant of any sceptical gazes being sent his way by either Volden or the merchant, the young Shamalain finally stopped at one particular item that caught his eye.

"I want this one," he declared, pointing imperiously at a backpack hanging from one of the rods supporting the tent. It was fashioned from rough leather with a slight red tint, compact but sizeable enough to house everything a boy might need on a hunting trip.

"And this one," he added, shifting his finger to point at a dark waterskin of similar color lying on the table beneath the pack.

"And when is mom comingggg?"

[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

Volden motioned for the merchant to bring him the items for inspection and after a moment nodded, "Good."

Another short conversation in the tribal tongue found Volden promising the merchant two slain maalraas from the hunt for their hides - an offer more typical for trade between peoples. The jungles here had some of the largest populations of maalraas in the local area, so this was nothing difficult to acquire.

"Get your things Ari," he said to the boy as he signed off on the agreement, ignoring the boys whining about his mother, "we'll pick up your rations and supplies last and then make way for Command. If there's time before the Beastia arrives we'll have you practice with your new bow."

[member="Ari"]

 

[Sunblade]

"Bow? Check. Backpack? Check. Waterskin? Check. Daggers? Damn right, check!"

"Voldeeeen?" Ari turned to the tall man and batted his eyelashes in what he presumed was an endearing and appealing expression. It was not.

"You said you were gonna help me practice with the bow," the boy continued as he began to unravel his master ploy, taking long steps backward as he increased the distance between himself and his perpetually-disgruntled guide. His small fingers wrapped around the handle of the bow with ease – almost too much ease – and in the blink of an eye he had an arrow notched and the string pulled taut.

"Run?"

His grin would rate a whopping 666/10 on the devilish scale.


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

"Ehh..." those saffron eyes rolled so hard they nearly toppled out of the man's sockets.

The last hour of gathering what few things left had been a hectic run as the locals made their last purchases before night fell. Though he'd been intent on getting Ari to Command straight away the petulant child had proven strangely keen on remembering his daggers. Ruja had them ready when they arrived. In his excitement at the demonstration of just how sharp his daggers now were...Ari forgot his spear.

Volden sent the boy back on his own to fetch it, which wasn't something Ari was particularly happy about. Seemed there was a bit of caution in his afterall - not a bad thing. He managed. Volden then made Ari scale the neighboring merchant building to retrieve the arrow stuck there from his missed shot. If he was to spend money on the child then he would get every credit's worth.

Spear. Bow. Quiver. Arrows. Daggers. Pack. Waterskin. Ari looked positively primeval - though judging by the amused glances of local tribals he was more akin to a Boy Scout.

Drakelings they called them.

"When you manage to hit me, then I will run," he gave a bored wave of a hand to the boy and pulled off his outer cloak, setting it on a nearby bench. Volden then strode out towards the perimeter fence where there was no chance of Ari hitting a passerby. Lots of space here and no chance of losing any arrows, "go on then."

[member="Ari"]

 

[Sunblade]

"Ugh. You're no fun," Ari scowled, blowing a raspberry at Volden as he turned his body to make up for the man's change in position.

His fingers hurt a bit from the climb on the roof of that one damned house in Irontown, where Volden had him go fetch the arrow. Why did he always have to be so annoying? Did he hate fun or something? Probably. He couldn't remember ever seeing him smile, and times when he'd tripped and fell face-first into the mud didn't count. Because obviously, that had never happened. Not to Ari. Nu-uh.

"Fine."

The boy pouted in concentration, brow furrowing as he closed one of his blueish-purplish eyes and took aim. Getting Volden in the foot would sure teach him a lesson or two about running him up and down the Market district for some stupid spear. Who needed a spear when he had daggers?!


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

THUP.

The arrow landed in the ground an inch to the left of Volden's left foot. The man had not even blinked.

"If you insist on dulling the arrowheads with the ground then I will take you home and you can wait another year until your first hunt with the Beastia," he idly brushed his knuckles on his tunic, thinking that they were rather more dirty than he cared for.

"You won't be taking down an adult maalraas by shooting it in the foot, boy. Remember your lessons and stop wasting time."

[member="Ari"]

 

[Sunblade]

"Oh please. That would've totally hit you if you hadn't moved!" A baseless accusation, of course, but than again, Ari had never been known as particularly quick to accept responsibility for his failings.

With a huff, he marched over to where Volden was standing, yanking the arrow out of the soil with a pointed glare directed straight at the man. This, in turn, prevented him from seeing a rather obvious rock in his path – or, well, seeing it in time – and sure enough, the fall interrupted what would've doubtless devolved into a full-blown tantrum.

Grumbling under his breath, the boy scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, already tuning out whatever scathing commentary his guide would provide. "As if you've taken down any Maalraas," and "I'll bring home enough Maalraas to last us a year," could be heard between various obscene words that he'd never been taught yet knew anyway (despite Volden's best efforts).

Rubbing his nose from its brief encounter with the dirt, Ari finally stood to his full height again… and was once more reminded – rather cruelly, one might add – that he still had a ways to go.

"It's sundown, anyway," he added, poisonously, and stared – you guessed it – daggers up at Volden. "Mom was supposed to be here minutes ago!"


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

Volden was want to remark that taking down a Maalraas was not something expected of a person of his particular station, though he would not resent his lack of experience should one happen to attack and eat the young child for lunch. He held his tongue, instead, to enjoy the devolving temper of the boy and the entertainment it afforded him.

Don't fight the tantrums, Quietus had told him once, you either stop them before they start or you let them run their course. There's enough out here that will try to kill him in the mean time.

She was right, of course, and judging by the ear-piercing screech of her Maw's arrival she was also right on time.

Metallic sounds rang in chorus with the arrival of the small beast flock - five skreevs in all, their blazing orange bodies hovering just above the network of reinforced electrified cables.

"Wiiiings!" came a rassp call from down the lane followed by a sudden, loud crack of power. Volden felt the hair on his head frill with electricity as the cables for the sky gateway slowly drew apart, pinging and ringing as they rattled across metal tracks.

SCRAAAWWWWWWW.

And from the dusky orange beasts above the frames of their riders dropped one by one along woven drop-lines. The last fell freely, landing with a crouch and a burst of Force energy. Beastia Blackthorne unfurled, rising to stand at a stature that was not physically imposing but spiritually enthralling: her presence alone enough to quell Drexls. Figure adorned in an array of light hunting leathers and armor, tattooed and scarred skin showing through at joint junctions, she turned to survey the surroundings of the Command District, pale green eyes glowing faintly in the fading light of day, her back to Ari.

Above their heads the gateways began sliding closed again and the skreeves without their riders winged off wailing into night for a hunt.

[member="Ari"]

 

[Sunblade]

"Mom!"

Ari happily cried out and abandoned his deathstare in the blink of an eye, rushing from Volden's side towards the clearing upon which the massive mounts were descending. In a few bounding steps, the boy was streaking through grass flattened by powerful gusts of wind generated by the beasts' equally massive wings, but the blond never let it stop him.

If anything, his mouth stretched into an even wilder grin as it became difficult to walk any farther due to the air blowing in his face, and the boy had to dig in his feet to keep from being flattened against the ground.

Looking up, Ari greeted the riders with that same smile, standing up on his toes with outstretched arms, as if he were trying to catch their falling forms. Foolish child.

"Moooooom!" he yelled again as the well-known figure of [member="Quietus"] emerged from the small hunting party, and then launched into a full-on sprint at his mother. In the blink of an eye, the yellow streak of leather and daggers made it to the group, launching himself at the Queen of the Wilds with all the reverence and respect one might show a household cat.

He tried to wrap around her in the same manner, too.