Desert Howl *

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

Pain, engraved on your eyelids. Darkness did nothing to soothe the pain brought by the light; excruciating. Unavoidable. Ironic. Light equals pain, darkness consumes it. Thus was the way of the desert. The sun ruled your life, with no escape and no protection. There was not a shield in the sky to stop the spears that were the rays of light. Whether you were born to it or simply woke to it, there was no ‘immunity’ to its intensity. You lived in it, and you adjusted, but you never once stopped its attack. Even if you had closed your eyes, the darkness would be temporary, like the relief. The sun would breach one’s eyelids, and would open the flood gates to the pain it brought.

The sun, thus, one could say, was a fair comparison to the desert. Both was it so that it was governed by the sun’s harsh rays, as life was governed by the desert’s scarcities. There was no simple kindness, but unabashed greed. With so little to live off of, one would scrape up and grip onto every last shred of substance that was not sand itself. That was, so it seemed, the life everyone was destined to live in this world. Or at least in his world. In that young man’s world, which was to him only existing of the desert, the sun, and the trade. The wheel and deal. The shuffling of his camels’ steps and their slow trudging movement dragging the carriage through the fine sand, inch by inch. Above the others he sat, on the front end of the rickety wooden cart’s front end. The lopsided, poorly held planks contained within them some boxes of craft pieces and other such luxuries: minimal amounts of water, foods, and many containing ore from the city’s famous stone mines. There were also lumpy, brown-skinned and small stubs that were supposedly food (potatoes), but he had no desire to try them himself. He also had a small collection of cloth, both to be worn and to be tailored, but as he specialized in bulk trading of item from place to place, they were minimal. Towards the front, by his side, were a noticeably smaller box, of some fairly fine craftsmanship. As if to answer the questions of the curious, a hand snaked its way beneath the lid of the box and settled silently for a moment before retrieving a small, brown bit of something, which would soon enter the man’s mouth silently. Cinnamon. It was a simple stick, but, in the dry lands of the desert where everything is important, it was a noticeable luxury.

Movement by the camel duo pulling the cart was minimum, only enough to move forward and reach the destination. As if preplanned, with some sort of understanding between the rider and the mounts, they stopped suddenly. The man’s eyes scanned the area, slowly, silently, with no wasted motion or burning of excess energy. He saw nothing, despite the populated area ‘bustling’ – or at least what could be considered such – around him. People peddled, carried rocks, sent looks. Natural things. Angry at him for his possessions, barely any of which were truly his. Much of his stock was to be sold to preset people by others. ‘Sell ten barrels of rock, and I will give you one.’ was the general gist of his current capacity. Had he the sympathy to impart on the other peasants a gift, he had very little right to do so.

Deciding to continue, the man’s mouth rolled the cinnamon stick around in his lips, and sighed long and deeply. Like a wisp of air from a dry, raspy cave, out came his voice. “Gee,” he said, and his camels abided. They twisted slightly, and pulled into the ‘stocks’ they were to use. In all actuality the stocks were just four sets of wooden sticks protruding lopsidedly out of the ground, but it was just enough to mark his place. Stepping up, turning, and walking to the other side of his carriage in two short steps, he hopped off the backside of his mode of transportation that he had become accustomed to, and sat down up against the larger left-side wheel. It was here he would sit, and wait, as per usual, as buyers and sellers would come. Predetermined customers would receive that which they had been assigned, random peddlers would come and buy for their own trade, and common people would look to make purchases of their own. It was all natural, all normal, all the same. Every day of his life, almost. Since the day, waking to the sand a boy, gripping to anything and everything the bigger and stronger ones looked to strip him of.

He shifted his position. The sand, though not a living being, crept into his pant leg as if possessed by some tyrannical monster. Probably the sun.

Supreme Mystic Rep! : 56 Location : California

The sun, it was his unrelenting mistress through the many days he spent with it. They didn’t speak of the night when they were together, that cool tart, though they did speak about other things as if the night did not exist. Of course, this speaking would take place outside of the sight of others along the lonely wastelands that served as the course of his travels. The speaking would be done in private so that others wouldn’t think him crazy. That fact might be a little true given the fact that the heat had a way of messing with one, but he would at least attempt to feign sanity at best he could, because on his best days, he was quite sane.

His gaze lowers from the previously mentioned mistress in the skies to level with the atmosphere of earth, wind and people around him, grounding himself in reality. He didn’t live in this town that was moving about him, though he was passing through it. On the inside looking out, he could see the people, the pedestrians and hear the sound of work occurring. Ore seemed to be a pretty big deal, though the male never did find a rock he could eat. People were odd. Either way, on the outside looking to him, he would be seen resting his legs for a moment, sitting on his read propped up against the side of a building structure with his tan clothe duffle bag on one side and his claw-blade, or sheathed katana, on the other. After having loitered long enough, he sighs and proceeds to stand up while complaining that this town didn’t have enough beautiful women to gaze at. After all, who wanted to look at work worn males all day?

After resting, gathering his things and leaving his post along the side of the building, the young male begins to walk through the village. Among the items on the to-do list was to see if he could get some good trades in for some of the things that he found along his way here. After browsing a few merchants in the area at various stocks, he move on and eventually comes along a camel and carriage pair where a young male around his age has seemingly set up shop. Sociable, the white haired male calls out a friendly, “oy. Do you have any beautiful women or something of comparable value in your carriage?” It was a joke, but kind of like an ice breaker to see if I could ignite the merchant’s instinct for a sell. If my bartering skills were up to snuff, I could possibly see if I could gimp him out of some good gear.

Timeline: Current | Persona: Jyn'Rai | EXP: 494

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

The miniscule rocks, bits of debris, and inevitably scattered pieces of animal fecal matter that had mixed up and become known to all as sand, rested silently in the pant leg of the man. They were an annoyance when moving, driving one crazy. No matter what shift of movement was made, the smallest bit of it would annoy you, eat at you like a mountain of such a substance. Yet, when resting, it was an oddly cooling warm, rested against one’s skin, it was almost invigorating to feel a solid object against your being. And, what more, it was possible to adjust to it and adapt; get used to it. Unlike the sun. The damned sun…

Person after person would come up, give a glance, and continue on. With so much of his commercial-sale-worthy possessions being rocks and ore from the town mine, which were in abundance at the moment, it was likely he would have very few purchases outside of the preset ones. Yet, to make his living, he would sit out here year round, all night and all day to make a sale. Besides, there would once upon a time come a day in the schedule of the miners where they would produce no more. It happened naturally. They would be mined out, and have to move on to the next portion. It wasn’t for long, but if you had no ore on you at the time, you were, as they say, ‘screwed’. It was a giant game of chicken: essentially a null value at most times, it would turn into a rare-mineral under the right circumstances. If you could afford to keep it for long enough, you’d eventually strike it rich off of those alone, like an investment in inedible, hard, heavy, space-consuming bullshit. Of course, then there was the matter of actually finding the right person to barter with…

His attention shifted. Darkness formed an odd shape to his side, and his eyes reflexively squinted at the target. A human shape. A glob, more realistically, as the features were diminished by the blinding rays of light cascading around his figure, but still identifiable as a person. All it took from him was the way he spoke; that “oy”. It lacked the grit of a desert merchant. It was so powerful in its usage. Those who bartered regularly in these such places had no excess energy for strongly emphasized words like that. Greetings were rarer in themselves. But, regardless, it was impolite to turn down a conversation from a potential customer. “Women are expensive,” came the raspy, dried out voice. It was as if sand itself lived in the man’s lungs. “they require space, additional food, cloth, and above all, extra attention. To carry one for sale by a single merchant such as myself is a move that asks only to collapse your business.” He says, looking back to the ground. There were rules that you respected in this business if you wanted to survive. Number one was knowing the risks of each item you carry. Number two was knowing there were rules in the first place. Number three was remembering them. “But if you’re looking for women… then, having to ask me means you can’t afford one anyway. If you could afford it, you’d know. You’d have been approached, or have been in the business long enough to find out who’s in those dealings.” At this point, his eyes rise to the young man again. “I only deal in bartering with general items. Food. Cloth. Ore. Items you might need for your profession or everyday life. And I mostly deal with bulk transactions as is. Regardless, if you need anything along those lines,” he stops, pauses, and lifts himself. There’s the audible sound of sand falling through the folds in his clothing, and scattering onto the ground with the rest of its innumerable kind. “then I can do something about your needs.”

Supreme Mystic Rep! : 56 Location : California

On his approach, Jyn’Rai receives a response and with it he has a feeling that he is able to instantly begin to get an idea of what type of person the merchant was. To him, the merchant didn’t seem like the merry and cheerful type that would shoot the breeze with pointless topics beating around the bush towards the sale; he seemed more like the type that had been weathered by the desert and his occupation making him seem slightly dull. Due to this, it would seem that they would walk through the bush and get straight to the other side.

With a nod, Jyn’Rai accepts this and states in a continuance of his social nature, “I suppose you have a point about the women...” It was said as a transition to move onto other things, though through the response to his joke, the merchant seemed on the money about the white haired male’s expense budget; perhaps it was a secret skill of the merchant trade. This insight gave the white haired the impression that the merchant wasn’t a novice at his trade. Among the things mentioned to be available to barter, it would seem that he did not have anything which Jyn needed. Still in an area like this, there was the chance that he might find himself in need of something that he didn’t know that he needed. He continues, “well… I have clothing, some food and don’t normally use ore... I know you didn’t mention it, but do you happen to have a good map of this region?” Jyn’Rai figured that as a merchant there was a chance that he could have one of his own; it might even be a point in case where he could pay just to copy it the map to help him out during his traveling in this area.

Timeline: Current | Persona: Jyn'Rai | EXP: 494 / 822

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

The man’s demeanor suddenly softened as a map was mentioned. It did not become jovial or clean, but, rather no longer one with such a serious air about it. His hand snaked along the thin fabric sash that round its away over his waist, running his thumb along the interior until he found a slight lump in it. His grip found its way onto the crumpled up, dusty and nearly illegible paper that had since been hidden behind his green vest-like garment. Pulling it out into the open, he would unravel it and expose its contents to the young man. It would be poorly done, and faded, with no real artistic presentation; just large circles with markings for towns and cities, zigzags for hills and larger zigzags for mountains. Everything was done poorly, and but still well enough to be understandable… if it was explained to you. “Of course I have a map… but, unfortunately for you, it is my only such map.” He grunts audibly, none too happy with that, by the sounds of it. “And, naturally, trading in my only map would be a fool’s mistake. While ‘a’ map might be worth very little, the ‘last’ map is worth at least three of the finer women you could find around here. Needless to say, it’s also out of your price range.”

“But…” he begins, and, for the first time, shows some form of compassion. “If you have some sort of parchment or something markable, and something to do said marking, you may use my map to create one of your own.” Stopping here, his eyes thin and he takes another glance at the man. “You don’t seem to be native to this area; at least, not this town. Clearly you’ve found some way to traverse the desert’s harsh sands before. What help could you need? You did so sans a map?” What kind of fool would travel without a map? It’s an idiotic idea to do in general, but to do so in the desert, the man thinks, is the biggest suicide move one could pull. He thinks this to himself, and then rolls his eyes. “Of course, even if you have a map, it’s experience, not direction, that will protect you out here. Knowing which direction you’re going in is only half the battle: knowing what else is going in that direction is where the real safety in having a map lies. How long have you been doing this?” Bandits, animals, all forms of dangerous beasts roamed the sand out there, mostly populating the more direct routes from place to place. Could this man actually make it alive with just a map, anyway?

Supreme Mystic Rep! : 56 Location : California

The slight shift in mannerism was coaxing as it was better than an escalation of seriousness. Jyn waits as the map is retrieved and pulled out. He waits in slight anticipation as it is uncrumpled only to see that it wasn’t something terribly well made. It looked like something the merchant, who didn’t seem to be an artist, drew himself. While thinking about the offer, it might be easier to simply copy down structures in my travels than to make a copy of this merchant’s copy of the lay of the land. Needless to say, it wasn’t necessarily what he was looking for. Before he could turn down the offer more words come which would be humbling to most. To Jyn, the necessity of the map didn’t come from trying to get from one village to the next, as trade routes seemed to be established between merchant guilds, but it was the things that were outside of the main pathway between villages that were of interests. Getting to areas untouched and getting back on track to the next place would be among the goals of Jyn. It was easy to find a map in segments to the routes, but outside of well traveled places, maps became more sparse.

Along those lines, and to answer the man’s question, Jyn comments, “well, my request was for a good map and one of this region. Though it may be different for a well traveled merchant, I haven’t come across many who possess a map of the entire continent; thus is the span of my travels. If you possess a continental map, then I commend your fortune…” I couldn’t really make out what he showed me on his map. “…but since I do not, it would make my life a lot easier if I had such an extensive map. For that reason I collect maps. You were right to figure that I was not from this area. As it would turn out, the map I have ends not too far past this village, so I will need something to overlap beyond what brought me here. Aside from getting a map of this new level in my travels, it would help if I had one that marked treasures as well.” He gives a slight grin, “but that would be all too convenient. But to answer your question, I have been traveling since I was a boy. You look like you’ve been doing this type of thing for a while too, am I right?”

Timeline: Current | Persona: Jyn'Rai | EXP: 442 / 1264

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

Ahh, so he was a traveler of his own, then? That made sense to the man. But, what kind of person is a ‘map collector’? Was that really a viable path in life? I suppose, to the right bidder, a map would be worth a thousand times its weight in meat. So that’d make this person in front of him a specialty dealer, then. Interesting. Unfortunately being a bulk trader, he had very little experience or desire in the trading of individual items, so their services seemed to clash there. Like the sun and the moon. Of course, one could say the sun and moon had a unique partnership, but that was not to be said of two merchant strangers. Speaking of a ‘continental map’, or whatever the hell that was, the man HAD seen some maps of much greater size and detail. Some that even spoke of things called… crass? Or was it grass… and stone structures which contained variable treasures not to be found within the desert, though somewhat scarcer on the fine goods found out here.

Of course, then comes the… question. Or was it an observation? Statement? Regardless, it seemed like a, ‘please, tell me more about yourself!’ kind of sentence. Being a bit too savvy for traditional tricks like this (only due to his experience in befalling for such traps), the man would slowly get up, groaning as he did so, and gaze over his shoulder, around the corner of buildings and for anyone that had an usual eye on him. He was not going to, yet again, fall for a distraction while others made off with the goods in his cart. Seeing nothing unusual, but not yet lowering his guard, the man climbed back into the back of his vehicle, and rested himself among its contents before shifting back to the man. “Traveling… yeah, about that. You could say it. It wouldn’t be entirely true, but, yeah, I’ve been ‘traveling’. If you want to be more accurate, I would call it peddling. And I can’t say when it started,” he says, and then pauses. “I woke up one day, out in the sands, hot, sweltering… blistered, bruised. Bits of scrap and assorted bullshit all around me. It was weird, but… I do not remember it as weird. I don’t remember anything before that, actually… the only things I remember, were that people around me wanted things. Not any ‘thing’ in particular, but… whatever I held onto,” he says, and extends an open hand, “they wanted.” And he seizes closed his hand to make the point. “It’s still the same now, but, luckily I’ve grown. Since then, I had realized that staying with your things in any one place too long is going to get you in trouble. In the desert, someone’s always watching you. They’ll find your guard lowered one time, so it’s best to keep moving.” He pauses, and gives thought for a moment. Could running away before things got to be deep shit be considered traveling? I guess to some. He shakes his head at this thought. “Anyway, where was it you said you were going again?”

Supreme Mystic Rep! : 56 Location : California

“Heh,” I murmur lightly, since it seemed an impractical mission for me to stay in third person, as the merchant looks over his shoulder in a suspicious manner. With a single finger, I lightly scratch the side of my face and murmur lightly, “oy… I’m not a thief…” Of course the statement was more to myself than the male in front of me, since I didn’t think that any thief attempting to thieve would say ‘oy, I’m a thief, you know.” My gaze follows as he moves into his wares to sit. I listen on as he continued to talk; at least with his mannerisms and ideals, he was interesting to listen too. Since I took an interest in people, at least in his persona, I wouldn’t find his words too long. When the conversation was shifted back towards me, I answer, “It’s less of a place and more along the lines of a person. Objectively, my destination is a man that I’ve only seen once in my life, but I know that if I see him again, I will instantly recognize him. That’s the thing that keeps me moving, so I’ll worry about an actual place after that.” Since I didn’t really answer the question, I oblige, but for right now, I’ll need a map of this area to see what’s around to go to.” Since it would be a bit creepy for two guys, strangers at that, to just keep talking to one another, I figured it would probably be time to wrap things up. I didn’t want to get in the way of his sells. Heading, conversationally, towards the end of things, I inquire, “in your traveling, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a man in a cloak with an odd symbol on his right hand, have you?” It was like casting a line out, but if I never asked anyone I wouldn’t hit the one in a million chance of someone having seen the person that I was looking for.

Timeline: Current | Persona: Jyn'Rai | EXP: 348 / 1612

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

The man, rummaging behind him through his wares, seems to be lost in his own mechanics as the younger man speaks. He was rather chipper; or, at least, in comparison to those who frequented these parts. It had been a wonder, up until this point, as to what the man’s real intentions were, but with the admission of it being a person, all was made clearer than the desert sky. The merchant hated the very idea of looking for someone in this vast ocean of sand and sun, so he instantly grew a tinge of sympathy and sorrow on the stranger’s behalf. Of course that didn’t mean he was going to go and help him! Finding one particular person with only the details of “cloak” and “weird symbol” was a life’s worth of work to him, and he had better things to do. Y’know, like, making a living.

Gripping one particular box, made of a lighter color – beige perhaps – he pulled it towards the edge of the cart, near the man. Inside was some assorted bits and piece of crap he would use to repair the cart in case of emergency, but that was unimportant. The one item of any importance inside was quickly removed and held in an open hand toward the man who had mentioned searching for someone. “I’ve no clue who the hell you’re talking about,” he said, offering him the black stub he held in his hands. “nearly everyone wears cloaks, and people often adorned themselves with symbols and markings as signs of belonging to some clan, or gang, or organization like that. But here, take this,” and the merchant shakes his hand lightly as he speaks, “it’s charcoal.” Turning halfway, he pats the box he removed it from. “Reach over here, and mark this box with the symbol. I can look for it while peddling.” Not that, in his opinion, he felt like he could find him anyway. And even if he did, the chances of meeting with this stranger again were unlikely. But of course, if he DID happened to come across the man, there was the chance he was also looking for this person. Naturally any information could award the merchant with some compensation, and easy earnings were always up his alley.

Supreme Mystic Rep! : 56 Location : California

It was a shot in the dark at a small target which missed. It wasn’t like this would get me down, however. Many years had been traveled asking many people this same question getting many versions of “no” in the process. I figured that it would be sheer luck when I finally found that man… either that or fate, and the latter had a better ring to it. Curiosity is drawn as the man reaches into his things and hands something to me. As he offers it, I accept, stepping forth and outstretching my right hand to receive it. At first I held a visage of curiosity, but after that a pleased look comes to my face as the man explains that he would offer to help me in some fashion. With a nod, I remark, “okay.” Moving to the mentioned box, I use the stone tool that was given to me to draw an omega symbol; its shape was deeply rooted into my mind as it probably would be for the rest of my life. I am careful along the arch of the symbol before finishing off the straight portion and leaning back to hand the charred coal back to the male explaining, “there we go. Thank you.” I took it as a cool gesture from the guy since there was probably no chance that I would ever specifically run into him again. The world was just that large that I knew that this might be the first and last time I would ever see the auburn haired merchant. After the thanks, I offer in response, “Jyn’Rai. That’s my name. I wish I actually had something worth trading you with. If I ever need ore in bulk, I’ll be sure to barter only from you.”

Timeline: Current | Persona: Jyn'Rai | EXP: 307 / 1919

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

“It’s not like I’m limited to ore, or anything…” the merchant mumbles, staring at the image drawn on the box. That was it? He had expected it to be more complex, like a circle with a star inside and a serpent coiling around it, or something along those lines. But just a little half-circle with feet? Nothing special, he thought. Of course, he could be underanalyzing the image. Was there something special about it that he was missing? Merchant guilds often had things such as that. One guild in particular used, what appeared to be, two rectangles as its symbol, while in actually it was a square cut into two equal parts that stood for equal, fair distributions, and not ripping anyone off. Never made sense to him, though, as ripping people off was the business of a merchant anyway. Regardless, that was a different matter, though he couldn’t help but imagine what secret meaning the symbol now drawn on his box held. Perhaps nothing? Some random person probably just thought it looked cool and didn’t think about any particular meanings it may hold… nah, only an idiot would do that.

Discarding these thoughts, the red haired one would extend his hand – one of the only actual actions he took seriously – to the man he had spoken with, and had even gone so far as to willingly offer his name. “I am Rashn. Buying and selling is my trade. If you speak to the merchants around here, then I go by the name of ‘Bakr’, to them. I will remember your name,” and he smirks, showing a different expression for the first time. “Jyn’Rai, and I will remember this agreement. I give you my word, as a merchant."

Supreme Mystic Rep! : 56 Location : California

I could see by his reaction that he must have been extremely impressed by the symbol I was able to make out. There was no way he could possibly be looking at it and asking himself if that were it. I had never tried my hand at art, but there was probably a good chance that the inner me’s were good at it as they seemed the deep artistic types. Either way, fourth wall delusions aside, my gaze would shift to it as the hand is extended towards me. From it, my gaze would then lift up to his eyes and following its own path to meet his, my right hand would extend to meet with his. I offer a strong and firm handshake as his name is offered to me. Rashn sounded like a strong name; a good name for such a stoic and earnest seeming merchant. With both names given, I lightly confirm the pronunciation of ‘Bakr’ lightly before his smirk coaxes a smile of my own. It was good people like him that made me glad that I was social at time and renewed my faith in the world; especially in place such as Rajeh. With the ending of the handshake I would not and confirm, “then I shall remember you as well.” Courteously I conclude, “I’ll let you get to your ware in that case, and I shall be on our way. If our paths ever cross again let’s have an ale together.” He seemed as if he would make a good drinking buddy, though I didn’t know if a stern individual as himself would frequent the bottle. Turning, I make my leave and walk away from that area. In the back of my mind, there was something that I knew I was forgetting about why I had been outside in the first place. I figured if it were important then I would remember it when it needed to be remembered. With that, duffle bag over my shoulder and sword on my back, I would saunter off.

Timeline: Current | Persona: Jyn'Rai | EXP: 350 / 2269

Updated

Intern Rep! : 10 Location : GARhalla

Forsaking the urge to argue with the man over ale being a ‘waste of time’, he decided it would be best to just silently agree. Never did he really take to drinking, since it dulled the senses and made making a profit nearly-impossible for the next day, and a day without pay that was not spent on the road would take nearly a week to make up. “Then, it’s a mutual promise.” He says, before watching the man walk off to his own devices in the vast desert region. It was for the best, anyway. There was profit to be made out here, and just sitting around talking to others wouldn’t get business done, as talking meant nothing if there was no barter to be done, and time was certainly not to be wasted. Out here in the desert, every second that passes, the sun rises higher and higher, and one’s focus becomes more drained with the heat. He who manages the rays of the sun best will often find themselves to be the superior merchant when it comes to striking a deal.

Shrugging his shoulders down, the merchant turns away from the passing man, and focuses on the approach of a couple of well-robed men, followed by their two carriages, pulled and managed by a handful of assistants. Audibly, he groaned, knowing the type of characters these men were just by seeing the way they carried themselves. It sucked, in total honesty, but, there was no way to get by in life but by dealing with all the people who came your way. It was in this way, the man thought to himself, he was jealous of the wandering mapfinder who called himself Jyn’Rai. Did he have to deal with things like this normally? Well, to sell his maps, he most likely did, but that wasn’t so bad, most likely.

Oh well; another day, another barter.

-OUT-

» Desert Walkers *
» Shade of Desert Night
» Troublesome Negotiations [Desert]