Glade 8th, 122
Hiding.
That's what he had to do, hide from the enemies he had made whilst finding himself. His own freedom that he knew had been on the line since he had taken the liberty of taking himself. A broken code to Brazim's nature of self-indulgence and sinful pleasures. To serve oneself in their own way. This powerful enemy served herself by using the whims and wills of others to achieve her goals, including her own brethren. A very powerful enemy indeed that could bring destruction and chaos to Daravin through her ways of espionage, seduction and ruthless application of the Candor. The Black Dahlia. That's what they call her within the realms of the Entente. Some say it's malicious gossip as there was no proof she committed such atrocities. Of course there was no proof. Her plots were elegant and sophisticated enough that even a single pounce of opportunity could've solved them. At least that's what Salen thought. They were vultures born of the same ilk, knowing when they see an opportunity, they strike, like a lion pouncing on it's prey.
Salen knew methods. He knew people as he was visiting an old friend he was working back in the Badlands, the barman of Rustbucket; he owed Salen a favor but in perfect exchange, he offered to work for them, even during the nights where customers will become rowdy and violent, craving to fulfill their depraved desires. It was a seedy bar with the reputation of carrying one of the largest brothels in the Badlands. He had to fit in though, knowing that he was being hunted for his ultimate betrayal against a powerful Entente spymaster. He sported a leather vest which he kept it open, followed by other clothes which would disguise him as a badlander. Of course, he was dressed the same as the whores that worked around the place as he carried his tray of drinks.
He was minding his own business until another badlander spanked him on the ass. Smack. A thrush of excitement and vigor coursed through his veins. Lust? Who knew. He turned to the man who had a smirk on his face. Salen smirked back and played coy, acting as if he was interested for a moment "Hey handsome. You stopped me, why was that?" He asked, before moving closer, watching the badlander stand up infront of him as he looked intimidating with his height of six-feet five inches. It was at that time that he prepared his shaper, knowing it could still have some strength to knock out a man, even at his stage of development for his blight. His eyes met, knowing that predatory look that seduced even the weariest of men and women.
At that moment, he grinded his butt against his crotch, watching him as he moved his hands, knowing how much he cheered for him "Oh, yes!" He said as he appeared to get rowdy and excited for what's about to happen next. Or in this case, what he thinks would happen. He shimmied his body in front of him, showing every contour of his muscles to him as he wolf whistled and catcalled at him. It wasn't until Salen turned around that he was going to teach him a lesson. A lesson in respect "Do you know what they say?" He paused as he tilted his head and cupped his chin "You can look." He pulled his fist back and delivered a blow to his face "But you can't touch" He watched as he stumbled into backwards from the force and tumbled over a couple of drinking badlanders.
Salen laughed as he watched a barfight break out due to his act of violence as he carried on walking and serving. And maybe smashing the odd bottle over some nasty fucker's head.
Hiding.
That's what he had to do, hide from the enemies he had made whilst finding himself. His own freedom that he knew had been on the line since he had taken the liberty of taking himself. A broken code to Brazim's nature of self-indulgence and sinful pleasures. To serve oneself in their own way. This powerful enemy served herself by using the whims and wills of others to achieve her goals, including her own brethren. A very powerful enemy indeed that could bring destruction and chaos to Daravin through her ways of espionage, seduction and ruthless application of the Candor. The Black Dahlia. That's what they call her within the realms of the Entente. Some say it's malicious gossip as there was no proof she committed such atrocities. Of course there was no proof. Her plots were elegant and sophisticated enough that even a single pounce of opportunity could've solved them. At least that's what Salen thought. They were vultures born of the same ilk, knowing when they see an opportunity, they strike, like a lion pouncing on it's prey.
Salen knew methods. He knew people as he was visiting an old friend he was working back in the Badlands, the barman of Rustbucket; he owed Salen a favor but in perfect exchange, he offered to work for them, even during the nights where customers will become rowdy and violent, craving to fulfill their depraved desires. It was a seedy bar with the reputation of carrying one of the largest brothels in the Badlands. He had to fit in though, knowing that he was being hunted for his ultimate betrayal against a powerful Entente spymaster. He sported a leather vest which he kept it open, followed by other clothes which would disguise him as a badlander. Of course, he was dressed the same as the whores that worked around the place as he carried his tray of drinks.
He was minding his own business until another badlander spanked him on the ass. Smack. A thrush of excitement and vigor coursed through his veins. Lust? Who knew. He turned to the man who had a smirk on his face. Salen smirked back and played coy, acting as if he was interested for a moment "Hey handsome. You stopped me, why was that?" He asked, before moving closer, watching the badlander stand up infront of him as he looked intimidating with his height of six-feet five inches. It was at that time that he prepared his shaper, knowing it could still have some strength to knock out a man, even at his stage of development for his blight. His eyes met, knowing that predatory look that seduced even the weariest of men and women.
At that moment, he grinded his butt against his crotch, watching him as he moved his hands, knowing how much he cheered for him "Oh, yes!" He said as he appeared to get rowdy and excited for what's about to happen next. Or in this case, what he thinks would happen. He shimmied his body in front of him, showing every contour of his muscles to him as he wolf whistled and catcalled at him. It wasn't until Salen turned around that he was going to teach him a lesson. A lesson in respect "Do you know what they say?" He paused as he tilted his head and cupped his chin "You can look." He pulled his fist back and delivered a blow to his face "But you can't touch" He watched as he stumbled into backwards from the force and tumbled over a couple of drinking badlanders.
Salen laughed as he watched a barfight break out due to his act of violence as he carried on walking and serving. And maybe smashing the odd bottle over some nasty fucker's head.
