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  • It's 3月 YE 43 for May and June. IC months advance every 2 OOC months.

Post Volume 1 - Bar Talk


Everything Is Magical
RP Date
Late YE 41
RP Location
Tsumi Main Fleet
The purge had managed to make it home alive, for Jaytorr it was a divine miracle brought to them by the hand of the Sovereign and as a result he found himself at the bar now. Not the fancy ones though no, Jay was a low born and he hung out in the slums of the ship, drinking little more than engine oil when it came to booze. The zealot usually came down here to avoid the high borns and even some of the more self respecting low borns. Jay put down his empty cup and sighed, motioning for another to be brought over, with all that happened after the mission so far he had no idea what was coming next.

The heavy thud of a pair of boots announced the arrival of a companion for Jay. Though high born, she had always shunned that name and her titles for shit hole bars, terrible tattoos, and fighting with the lowest for her place in the world. Sekhmet sat heavily at the bar, a few seats down from Jay and ignoring him for the most part. She raised a hand, seemingly a regular at the bar, and was rewarded moments later with a drink slid in front of her. She thumped a elbow on the bar and stared ahead and she drained the first drink in a few gulps, only to have a second in front of her as she placed the first finished one on the bar. This one though, she seemed to take her time with as she let her eyes scan the bar around her, only to fall on Jay. A small sneer spread across her face as she looked at him, but her eyes went back ahead of her to the wall behind the bar tender.

Jaytorr for his part had noticed her come in and sit down but decided not to go near her this time, until she looked over and sneered that is. Groaning slightly he got up and shuffled down to sit beside her. “Didn’t know I’d be seeing you here again so soon, high born.” The zealot said, taking a sip of his drink, for a warmongering race he got drunk very carefully, drinking it like he was at some sort of fancy restaurant. Of course it was risky to call her out again but considering how their last meeting went, Jay doubted he was in too much danger anymore, they had come to a sort of understanding well he thought they had anyway. “Well anyway, I trust your hunts have been well, Sekhmet.”

“Shut it Zealot.” She actually seemed to blush for a moment as her eyes searched the surrounding area around them to see if anyone had noticed his words, and when sure they hadn’t, her lower arm to his side aimed a solid straight punch at his kidneys. “My hunts have been fine… Though I doubt you’re interested in the type of prey I am.” While she was like any other good Tsumi, loyal to the sovereign, she didn’t take that to the point of fanaticism like her drinking companion did. “And how is your feral? She stop trying to eat everything that moves?”

Jay stifled a grunt as he bent over the counter slightly in pain, nothing long lasting but a well placed punch still hurt when he wasn’t in purging mode. “It’s fine, more or less contained.” He wheezed slightly before snatching her cup with precision he didn’t often show and taking a sip. “That’s for punching me for no reason.” He stated with a stupid grin before setting it down before her once more. “One of these days I’ll show you all that a heretic is truely inferior, when i break Kmza and reforge her allegiance to our glorious Sovereign, and when that day comes I will have started my holy mission, and no interference will stop me.” The zealot began mumbling to himself while he lived out the ultimate goal, he didn’t need status or power, just more weapons to keep hunting heretics.

“Your hunting is going to get you killed one day, and I for one won’t miss your spouting of nonsense.” She shook her head a little and took her drink and slid it aside, ordering another and forgetting about the cup now. “So what are you doing here? I figured you would be on the hunt still, isn’t there some vile den of heretics and heathens you could be purging?”

“Perhaps, but they won't be going anywhere for one evening. A drink is always nice after a long day, wouldn’t you agree?” The hunter smiled sideways at her.

“Oh by the way, you won’t catch a disease that makes you more fun by using that cup, might help taint that status you hate so much though.”

Another hand snatched out quickly at the man, aimed for the collar of his jacket to pull him in roughly should she grab him. Through gritted teeth regardless she hissed, “What have I told you about that…” The look she leveled on him could back down a War Slave with half a brain as she turned to look around and see if anyone had heard the man beside her.

“They know what I am, I don’t get to come back here… And if you ruin this place for me, I will make sure to turn that pretty little slave of yours into a fucked up fiend that crawls in bed while you sleep and makes what I did to you look sweet. Got it?”

Jaytorr was wrenched roughly towards her as she grabbed him. “You know, I didn’t realise nobody else knew, but it’s ok I’ll keep your secret.” The zealot never stopped smiling as he whispered, at least it seemed like he had taken her desires on board. “Also, pretty is the last word I’d use on that creature, she’s nothing more than a chance for me to prove my devotion by bringing her onto the light of the sovereigns grace.”

She sneered at the man and roughly shoved him back from her, turning back to her drink to down it in one swallow again. “What do you want from me Zealot? I’m sure you have some reason to bug me and my alcohol?” Already another glass was in front of her, the bartender seemed to understand the deal with the woman, that she was prone to suddenly downing her drink for any one reason or another.

“Well for a start I was here first and since you decided to walk in and give me one of your ever so sweet looks I decided to strike up some conversation.” The warrior yawned as he spoke, stretching his arms briefly. “If you had anything to give me it would have been foretold, why ask for a mystery when I am merely content to be a pawn in the game.” As usual his poor excuse for an analogy made no sense other than making it clear he was wholly devoted to predetermined fates. Looking up with his regular toothy grin the Zealot clearly had no real goals here, “Though if you feel so compelled as to give or tell me something then it’s obvious our meeting was fated for a reason.”

“By the sovereign I feel myself losing what brain cells I have left after fighting that War Slave every time I talk to you... '' Sekhmet just shook her head a little and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and finger and sipped at her drink again, vowing mentally this time to take her time with the drink rather than down it in a flash. She let out another sigh and looked over to the man for a moment before she spoke. “What do you do with yourself when we aren't fighting, besides looking for your heretics?”

Jaytorr let out a cackle at her remarks, she didn’t understand his holy task. “Besides hunting heretics, I train occasionally or maintain my axes, but without training and maintenance its so much more fun. Making random movements to intimidate or confuse, trading blows to earn battle scars, and finally separating them from their heathen head with little more than the rusted edge of a blunt axe!” The zealot laughed again, a much more manic and deranged sound of a man who hadn’t had it together for quite some time..

“Fuck you are weird.” She could already feel a headache grow, the alcohol doing nothing to dull the pain as it pulsed in her skull a little, but she looked over to him after rubbing her eyes. “I hope your hunts get you killed one day, just so I don’t have to bother with you anymore. And a happy day it’ll be when it does happen.” She admitted openly to Jaytorr as she again downed her drink and stood, angry with herself for letting the man get under her skin. “I’m leavin. You’ve soured the alcohol here and I need to sleep it off before I drag you back to the barrack with me.”

“If you don’t like my company why bother coming all the way down here.” He spoke seriously for the first time that night, under all his insanity Jaytorr was no fool, and it still didn’t add up that a high born would want to tarnish their status down here. “But don’t worry, I’ll have my head sent to your doorstep when I die, though you’ll be waiting a while.” His lips curled into an almost snarl like expression, he lived for the hunt and to serve his sovereign, he’d committed atrocities in her name on more than one occasion and lived through all manner of people trying to end his life. “Last time it took several fighters your size just to take an arm.”

A heavy hand would shove toward his face, almost like a stiff arm, to push him back away from her. She wasn’t in the mood for him tonight, she was tired and annoyed and the headache was getting to her now. “Just because they are my size doesn’t mean they are me, you would do well to remember that.” She offered him in response to his threat as she turned to head for the door to leave.

Jaytorr fell off his bar stool as he was roughly shoved back, cackling more as he hit the floor. “You think some shit booze and a madman give you a headache, try living with a wretched slave who knows far too much alchemy.” He chuckled while climbing to his feet, seeing her leave he pondered, would it be worth trying to convince her to stay? Well she seemed to be in a shit mood anyway and clearly hated his guts, he could try insulting her into a fight again but he was getting tipsy and it wasn’t his job to fight the masses. “Try not to bang your head on the way back, won’t help that headache at all.”

All Sekhmet returned to his insults were three middle fingers as her fourth arm pushed open the door to allow her out of the bar and into the halls of the ship.