Evil Sand... [Private | Vera]

The streets making up the cities of Minstrel were often filled to the brim with the lower-class workers who basically did all the dirty work to serve an unjust system that favored people by birthright and not always by virtue. It was often that the system chose glamour over character - something that was reversed in Desierto. In Desierto, people yearned to be the front role models in terms of manners, hospitality, articulation, manners, manners, manners and etiquette. Being able to memorize all your ancestors and ancestresses showed intellect and a huge brain capacity, which many a young Desiertan would love to see in their future partners in love and life. Here in Minstrel, mentioning the one ancestor of yours who was worth bragging about was more than enough, really…

The sun was standing tall over the zenith, revealing the hues of three figures on top of a copper-covered tower. The copper had aged quite badly, and it was a bright, turquoise layer around the dome of the tower that these figures stood on. There was something odd about them… the sun’s rays seemed to bounce off of their skin, creating a mirage-like cloak that blurred their appearances, hiding them well from the population who walked about to pursue their daily goals. These figures possessed magic, clearly… but who were they?

The mirage-like hue would disappear if you were looking at the exact location where they were standing. Nothing was to be seen there, now… but one could always use their ears and hear a sudden raise in the commotion.




































This would be repeated with a strong, Desiertan accent as these figures revealed themselves in the middle of the public roads. They wore such loose clothing despite the temperatures and customs in Minstrel, clearly signifying that they weren’t from around these areas. Their question was short and obvious; they were looking for a Jiriiru Jareemu. A Desiertan name.

“Are you Jiriiru Jareemu?” one of the entities who wore a jagged turban asked a young, little kid on the road whose cheeks said it all; dirt marks on his cheeks signaled his status in the society as under class, so obviously he wouldn’t want anything to do with these ridiculously muscular men wearing no trousers and shirts. The child shook his head quickly and ran away from the bigger male who sighed in disappointment.

“He is older than that, akhi!” another one of the three figures - one wearing a sleeker turban covering his head and connected to a scarf around his neck - informed his ‘akhi’, a term meaning brother, “Look for a Desiertan around our height and build! Tone of the skin too! And talk in Desiertan, so he won’t flee!” The man with the jagged turban nodded and looked around, hoping that their third brother had heard the same… but the third one was gone. Oh well, they still kept on asking people on the roads - this time, they asked in Desiertan:


The third among them - a man without a turban but donning a golden circlet with three gemstones, all three light-blue - had invaded someone’s house. A sudden scream echoed from the bathroom as he had just pulled back the curtain to face a woman in the middle of taking a shower. “Are you Jir- wait, you’re a woman-“

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU PERVERTED LOWLIFE!!!!”

She swatted at his face with her free hand, but he grabbed it with ease before it landed on him. “Watch your hands, young lady! I’m just looking for someone! At the very least, you may be well-mannered enough to help me in my time of need-“

Another scream escaped her, and poor girl, she was stuck with a psycho.

Meanwhile, the entity with a jagged turban had come across a certain lady with violet hair. The two of them who were out on the street had scared many other people away with their appearances, their behaviors and the pointy bulges on their heads coming from their turbans. “Are you-“

“Amir! Haven’t I told you, already!? Jiriiru is male! Ignore the loose womenfolk here!” the man with the dome-like turban shouted at his brother with a stern tone in his voice, clearly annoyed by the lack of attention to detail. Despite honoring good manners, they sure were assholes…

WC: 760
@Vera Walden

Well, that was a change. Something different, at last… however, it was far from what the demon had been searching for. This random, violet-haired lady approached him and spoke such sassy words that a vein bulked out through his facial skin. Even the one among them who seemed the most rational in terms of focus and commitment couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow to the strange lady’s quotes. They had nothing to do with her ovaries - those ovaries could be bleeding right now for all they cared.

However, she was posing quite a distraction with how she angered the turban-wearing demon. She even went as far as to grab his wrist and flail it around while accusing him of having stuck it inside her private parts. People around suddenly backed off and kept their eyes on the demons clad in loose, nomad clothes as if they weren’t drawing in enough attention already. The man whose arm was being played with turned back to eye his akhi, and after a few non-verbal exchanges, the one whose arm the violet-haired beauty was toying with lifted his other arm and spun his index finger around the side of his head to signal that she probably had mental issues or something.

“Ohohoho, you think you’re funny, now?!” the demon with the arm being flailed with replied as he lifted his arm quickly and with quite some force to escape the lady’s provocation. He lowered his arm once again and faced her, his face approaching hers quite a bit until he released a thick steam from his nostrils, aimed straight at her face and would probably cover her entire head for a moment. “Lady, you’re far, far away from your institution. I suggest you go back to where you crawled through a fence to escape from.”

The demon with the round cloth covering most of his head could be seen sniffing the air. This girl smelled… no, that couldn’t be. Not with those features. However, there was another smell in the air that quickly grabbed his attention… and it smelled like Al-Kidra. The mark on the lady’s arm from earlier didn’t ring any bells to them. However, for a certain someone else, it would…

…

Jariel had gotten news of rising amounts of crimes in Minstrel and had thus headed there to aid. There was a rumor that a secret guild stood behind all these crimes, but up until now, he hadn’t gotten any leads or clues. He was walking the streets of Minstrel simply to let his luck help him out, y’know, try and see if any certain robbery or event would lead to this suspicion. Yet, throughout his mission here, he hadn’t once thought that things would turn into what was about to happen.

Three tall men clad in Desiertan nomad outfits were causing a commotion. Jariel gently moved his way through the crowds and spotted some Musketeers approaching as well. He was inclined to aid them in whatever mess had occurred, and for a while, he believed these men to be the lead that he was looking for. However… why were they wearing such clothes here? And why did their auras feel so… so… warning to him?

Jariel decided to stand back as another Musketeer pulled him back to take cover. He was, by many means, not that experienced of a mage yet despite his magic and its properties, and these Musketeers had been wizards for several years. The one who pulled him back now approached the center of attention - the two nomad men and the playful woman with ovary problems - and demanded the nomads to surrender. They had been causing unrest in the street given several sources and their info, so it was obvious who was the interrupter of peace here…

The Musketeer’s rapier… melted. It began melting as if surrounded in the fires of the sun. The Musketeer’s hand melted along with it, and his cry echoed through the crowds that began panicking and galloping away from the scream. Jariel’s eyes sharpened quickly in response, ready to jump in - in good time, too, as the more rational-looking nomad watched the bleeding Musketeer and decided to propel a piece of his bone towards the poor wizard.

The bone met a beam of light that vaporized it. The light was from a wizard quite not as experienced as one would think, but for dear, pure Jariel, luck was on his side. From that one exchange of spells, he had realized… these men weren’t men at all. They were demons! Just like against zombies, their bodies and body parts crumbled away even with his weakest spells.

He was starting to feel more confident now and stepped in clad in his classified DI uniform accompanied by a red, fitting cap. Some of the people from behind had been talking about the cause of all of this… and it was starting to worry him a little. Then again, with how his magic worked before, this should be under his control.

“… So I’m the one you’re looking for, correct? For confirmation, it is me who go by that name, so stop saying it so lightly, you strange nomads…” he spoke to them, pointing a thumb back to himself to clarify his words. Both nomads gazed at him, sniffed a couple times and suddenly spat on the ground once each. That was him, alright. Jiriiru Jareemu, as his name was to be pronounced in his home country. From his angle, he spotted the arm of the lady who pulled quite a joke on one of them and noticed the mark… that was a Rune Knight! To think that they would lay hands on a Rune Knight indicated the seriousness of this encounter.

“I will not allow you to leave. Hostile intent towards a member of the Rune Knights is a monkey’s act,” he informed them as he took a stance by raising his hands. Those hands channeled an aura that began lighting up rather sharply, but the two nomad demons weren’t intimidated. Instead, the one closest to the Rune Knightess cackled and held a hand over the Knightess’ head. Jariel quickly aimed a finger at him, charging it with his Demon Slayer Magic and preparing a shot the moment he attempts to physically contact her.

WC: 1053
TWC: 760 + 1053 = 1813

@Vera Walden