RP: ISC Phoenix [R&R] Clan Clashing

[Sham]

Soruk had practiced and played on their trip back, learning much about his instrument and the sounds it could make through his intense focus. The crew wouldn't see much of the blademaster, unless they had caught him eating every now and again or had come to listen in the cargo bay, though not seeing him wasn't unusual in the slightest. He had received a reply from his clan relatively quickly, granting his request. A ship would be arriving at about the same time the Crimson Kestrel pulled into port or at the very least, a day or two after. Very unlike the quiet gartagen, he was rather anxious to meet some of his clanmates, a welcome taste of home after being surrounded by people he didn't know and for some, didn't like.

When he heard Luca's call over the PA, he was busy working on another engraving on his knives. He didn't pay much mind to when they were going to arrive, the gartagen was patient and they would get there when they did. He couldn't deny that he was a little happy that they had arrived though. Soruk tucked his knives away, each one finding their respective sheath with a little help.

However, the blademaster didn't tug his normal cloak on and work his way out of the ship, instead opening his bags to pull out a different cloak. It was the more 'traditional' cloak of his clan, primarily white with black as a secondary color, rather than his normal black with white secondary. The deep red was still accenting the wear. The blademaster was free to wear his modified cloak wherever he pleased, but his clan was rather strict on what they wore when meeting and would prefer if he wore the traditional one. They had made it so much a point to include it as a footnote in their message back. Apparently they were very displeased with his last meeting at home.

After latching the last clasp and tugging on the white fabric, the blademaster started sheathing his weapons in their proper places. Just like his clan liked meeting to be done with their traditional wear, clan members were to have any weapons they would have on person during a battle. Weapons and the detail put into them were a sort of statement with the Clan of Blades. A masterpiece said much of the wielder, as all members were expected to fight and forge on equal levels for the most part.

Of course, Soruk didn't have the most impressive weapons, in the sense of being able to see them. If anyone had inspected his small blades and tools, they would find small, hidden masterpieces. It led to internal pride from the gartagen and usually mocking gestures from his clan mates that didn't know him very well or from opposing families.

Feeling that he was presentable, he started working his way towards the cargo bay, hopping out of a vent and landing neatly on a crate below. Looking out of the cargo bay onto the city called 'Sargasso'. It looked pretty down-trodden but nothing close to the crowded, polluted, super-cities of Gartaga. His clan didn't live anywhere near the supercities, their keep nestled at the base of a lone mountain, surrounded by a dusty desert. Sargasso would have to do. He slowly walked down the ramp, gazing around, taking in the sight of the beach, the Nepleslian skyline, and the mountains in the distance.

"Not bad." He mused to himself. It was far more pleasing then arriving at one of his own planet's cities. He spotted the ship they had saved from the pirates, the... Fruna Ruica . He made a mental note to stay as far as possible from the place. There were some strange people aboard that ship. He scanned a bit further down the road and found what he sought a good distance away from the hub of activity that was the cruise ship. A small gartagen ship had landed, a few white-cloaked figures milling about around it. One group was starting to spar. The sight of it warmed the blademaster's heart a little. It felt like home just seeing that.

 

[Sham]

He started making his way towards the ship, walking along the beach, rather than walk anywhere near the Fruna Ruica. He had seen plenty strange things among his travels and cared to see no more right now. The gartagen hadn't made his presence too well known on the ship, but on the offchance that someone had recognized him, he wasn't interested in signing autographs or taking gifts. Especially gifts.

He had walked for a few minutes at a leisurely pace, letting his hood down to feel the sun on his face. It wasn't quite as warm as Shara, but it still felt nice. After another moment or two, a few of his clanmates noticed him, gesturing in his direction. He started to walk a little faster, calling out when he was close enough, "Hail Brothers! Shara guide you. I am Blademaster Aisaras Soruk." Soruk reached inside his cloak, producing a few small trinkets, symbols of his clan, as if the cloak wasn't enough. One of them called back, waving him over, "Greetings brother." It would take another moment for Soruk to close the distance, getting within talking range. Before any talking was done, he clasped his hands together and bowed, receiving the same gesture from his greeter.

The other gartagen was a little shorter than Soruk and had a younger face, but still had the athletic build that all members of his clan shared. The most noticeable feature was the large white scar across his dark blue face. It seemed someone had seen the edge of a blade a little too close for comfort. Their emerald green eyes met, sizing up one another. Their robes were nearly identical, signifying they were of the same rank, though Soruk had more experience, no doubt.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the other opened his mouth, "I am Blademaster Ray'Kel Vuras. I was sent to deliver some things to you, as I was heading this direction already." Soruk nodded, his hands returning to his sides, "I am grateful for your help." He turned and gestured towards the spaceport, pointing at the Crimson Kestrel , "That is where I am currently residing." Vuras peered over Soruk's shoulder, scoffing, "What are you doing aboard that? Shouldn't a blademaster be seeking something more?"

Soruk frowned, slowly turning back around, "I did not ask for your opinion on where I am staying, only mentioned it so you would know where to have the items moved to." He continued with a wave towards the ship, "And I advise a little more respect towards that ship." Vuras wasn't having any of it, pointing at the Crimson Kestrel, replying angrily "More respect? Why? Is it yours? A member of our clan wouldn't be caught dead piloting that." The calmer blademaster replied without anger, "It is not my ship, but the captain of it deserves more respect."

Vuras shook his head, backing up and laughing a little, a taunting laugh "You, a blademaster, cannot possibly call yourself such when you stoop so low to find employment below an offworlder! Or maybe such a low station is suitable for Aisaras." Soruk made a mental note about the other gartagen, Another Ray'Kel that just dislikes my house .The ruling families of the clan didn't get along well, Vuras and Soruk happened to be apart of two opposing ones. Soruk's happiness at being around his own clan evaporated relatively quickly. They couldn't just send anyone from my own house... He sighed internally.

The younger blademaster surely didn't expect what came next, nor did the other clan members who had starting forming around them, interested in what might go down between two blademasters. Vuras found himself propelled backwards, laying in the sand with a pain in his gut. Soruk had already returned to his previous position after delivering a powerful kick to the other's stomach, "I am a blademaster who knows how to control his temper, unlike you." The other members nodded silently, looking between the two.

Vuras was dazed for a few moments, slowly collecting himself and standing shakily. It took him a moment to process that he had been kicked. Soruk watched impassively, preparing for the inevitable counterattack by the rash blademaster. The thought of how this gartagen possibly achieved the rank crossed Soruk's mind. By the time the thought was finished, Vuras leaped forward, flexing his wrist. It was then that he noticed the other had gauntlets much like him and the endless possibility of tools contained within. Time seemed to slow down when claws started to slide out of Vuras's gauntlet, heading straight for Soruk's face. Even expecting the other's attack wasn't enough, the claws moving impossibly fast...

*CLANG*

Soruk had started to move backward, but the movement was unnecessary. One of other clan members had stepped in, putting a Sheshka between the two blademasters, "You forget your tenets, Vuras." Striking with a weapon against another clan mate who was unprepared for such combat wasn't honorable. The correct way to settle a dispute was a 'friendly' spar. Vuras pushed the Sheshka away, sheathing the claws. He reached for a knife and threw it into the sand at Soruk's feet angrily, "Spar."

Soruk raised a brow, looking down at the knife and returning his gaze to the barely contained blademaster. He slowly reached for one of his own throwing knives and threw it at Vuras's feet, "Spar accepted." The other blademaster nodded and turned around, stomping away, a few of the other's accompanying him. It was traditional for a heated spar such as this to be resolved one day after the acceptance. It let both combatants cool their heads and prepare.

He turned to face the other half of the spectators, nodding slowly, "If it isn't too much trouble, can you deliver those supplies tonight, brothers?" He received silent nods from his clan mates, who started to disperse, some heading to the back of the ship. The one who had stopped Vuras started marking a large white circle, the sparring ring, with the two knives remaining in the center. Soruk started back towards the Crimson Kestrel , to rest, to prepare, and to inform Luca of the situation.

 

[Sham]

*CLANG CLANG CLANG*

The sound of a hammer striking metal over and over rang throughout the cargo bay of the ship. It would seem that the resident blacksmith had finally acquired his forge. It had taken a couple hours to have the equipment transferred from the clan ship to the Crimson Kestrel , but it was well worth it, at least for Soruk. The forge was set up in a back corner of the cargo bay. The blademaster had figured it would be out of the way. The actual forge itself was tucked neatly into the corner, a fire already roaring in the heath.
Despite the technological advancements over the ages, the Sheshren preferred to keep to the old ways when it came to technique and equipment. Some advancement was necessary of course, especially if it greatly improved the quality of the tools produced, without sacrificing the requirement of being hand-made. As such, many of the tools used were made with a bit more technology than the tools made with them.

The blademaster was testing his forge, creating a simple blade to ensure that it could handle more advanced projects. He was in the process of heating the metal again, a thin rectangle of red-hot Buk, a metal from the gartagen homeworld, was resting in the flames. Soruk was pulling down on one of the many handles that hung down from the top of the forge. Each pull pumped air from the bellows into the fire, making the flames burn hotter. For the first time in a long while, the gartagen actually had a small grin on his face. The heat, the sounds of the fire, it made him happy.

After a moment of heating the metal, the gartagen pulled it out with his tongs, quickly transporting it over to the anvil next to the forge. He held the hot metal in place with his tongs, his other hand bringing a hammer down on the metal, slowly turning a brick of hot metal into a shape more recognizable. An unsharpened Sheshka. It would take a few more trips from the forge to the anvil to reach the desired shape and plenty more hammering. After the desired shape was reached, the blade needed to be heated and cooled slowly, it would take time. He placed the metal in the forge, letting it heat up once more.

While he waited, he fetched his data pad and called his 'father', Sheshren Aisaras Esram, one of the leaders of his clan. Esram was actually his uncle, but did most of Soruk's raising since his parents went missing. It took a moment for the call to connect, but when it did, a holographic projection of Esram appeared standing on the datapad's surface. The clan leader looked very similar to Soruk, just older and more experienced. His robes were very ordinary, all things considered. The accents were a deep red, the same as Soruk's, the only thing added being some small trailing red ribbons on the cloak's 'tails'. His weapons seemed lacking, though that meant little. Like Soruk, Esram had bracers with hidden blades tucked beneath them. The most visible weapon was the twinblade on the clan leader's back.

 

[Sham]

Soruk bowed his head to the other gartagen, "Clan Leader Esram." The projection reached out and 'touched' Soruk on the shoulder, "No need for formalities Soruk." Esram had a warm smile on his face, "Tell me, how are you? Been long since I've seen you." Esram was looking around the forge, nodding, "I see you have received your request."

Soruk nodded, standing straight again, "I am well enough, I have been received well aboard this ship, the Crimson Kestrel." Esram nodded slowly, "And what are you doing, aboard this... Crimson Kestrel?" The blademaster paused, looking away for a moment. What was he doing? He had gotten a lead, so why hadn't he pursued it immediately? He had more than enough funds to get a ride to Dawn Station. "Well... the captain of this ship, a man called Luca Pavone-" He was interrupted by Esram, "Luca Pavone? How did you manage to get aboard his ship?" Soruk raised a brow, "You've heard of Luca? He was news to me. He offered a place on his ship after seeing all my blades. Apparently he was impressed." A laugh came from the hologram, "Soruk, you need to watch the news more often. Luca Pavone is usually on it. Anyway, continue."

The blademaster frowned, turning away for a moment, reaching into the forge with his tongs, removing the heated blade and gently inserting into a sheath that would ensure it cooled at a proper rate. He'd have to sharpen the blade when it was ready. Esram was nodding approvingly at the blade in process. Soruk returned his attention to the hologram, "Well, Luca has agreed to provide assistance in locating my parents, in return for me helping him... with whatever he gets into." Esram frowned, "You know what he gets into... right?" Soruk shrugged, "I'm sure I can handle it, whatever it may be. He has quite the... colorful... crew." 'Colorful' was putting it mildly.

Esram nodded slowly, "Did you... find anything out?" His voice was lowered, it was a sensitive topic. The blademaster nodded slowly, "A small lead, but nothing solid yet. I'll contact you if anything actually shows." Soruk was hoping something did, Esram was too, though he didn't say anything else.

"So... did Vuras give you any trouble?" Esram steered the subject a different direction, though unknowingly towards a much more interesting topic. Soruk frowned and nodded, "Ray'kel Vuras..." He intentionally left off the clan name, as an insult of sorts. "... disrespected this ship, the captain, and myself. He challenged me with a spar and I accepted." Esram raised a brow, a look of surprise on his face, "He did what? I suppose his promotion has gotten into him or something else..." The leader patted Soruk on the shoulder, "Don't do anything rash." Soruk nodded, "I know, I'm more hoping that he doesn't. His temper is short."

A different voice came from the hologram, though who it was could not be seen and Soruk didn't recognize the voice, nor could he make out what was said. Esram turned away, nodding solemnly at the unseen speaker. "I see... yes... send out the word..." The Clan Leader turned back to the hologram, his face grim, "Soruk... it seems Sheshren Ray'Kel Drakash is very ill, from an unknown disease or something. Healers don't know." There was a long pause before Esram continued, "Please inform Vuras of this, though it may be wise to do so after your spar. I must depart to see to him. Farewell Soruk." The hologram ended before Soruk could reply.

Soruk sat down for a moment, mulling over what he had just heard. Perhaps Vuras was angry because he already knew something. Maybe Drakash already knew something about the disease, but didn't tell anyone other than his own house. It seemed that secret was loose now. There was nothing he could do about it, other than tell Vuras after their spar tomorrow. His blade wouldn't be ready for sharpening until tomorrow either, so the blademaster had nothing left to do, other than rest. He made his way to his hideaway with a somewhat troubled mind and fell asleep after a while, tomorrow's spar on his mind.

 

[Sham]

Soruk awoke with a start, blades flashing out of his wrists. He was breathing heavily, glancing around his hideaway quickly, scanning the darkness. He remained alert for another moment before sheathing his Rura's, "Just a bad dream..." The blademaster slowly got up, tugging on the rest of his cloak. He slept in the undershirt of the garment, leaving the heavier half, the part with all the armor plating, folded neatly next to his sleeping 'nest'. After a few moments, the gartagen was ready for combat, as usual. He started crawling through the vents, working his way towards the cargo bay to leave the ship. He took extra care to be quiet, he doubted anyone else was awake at this hour, unless someone else was up to watch the sun rise.

Soruk hopped out of the cargo bay and looked at the horizon, seeing an orange glow brightening. Perfect timing as usual. The blademaster looked around and started climbing to the highest point at the spaceport, taking a seat and watching the horizon, awaiting the sun to crest the far mountains. It wasn't Shara, but he had to make do with what he had. As the sun crested, the gartagen bowed his head and offered a greeting to the sun, a tradition amongst his clan. The practice was a bit outdated, worshipping the sun, but Sheshren honored tradition. Soruk was content to sit and watch the sun for almost an hour, preparing himself mentally for the spar ahead.

When the noise of the spaceport started up, the gartagen started making his way back towards his clan's ship, taking his time. He gazed around Sargasso, wondering more and more why Luca chose this place of all places. The isolation seemed to be the only plus. If that were the reason though, there was plenty of other places. He shrugged and filed the question away, he could always ask at his next opportunity. He was used to the stares he got while he was walking. His garb was strange everywhere he went, except when he was home. He saw a few kids pointing at him from across the street out of the corner of his eye. They always seemed the most interested. Perhaps he looked like a superhero. Maybe a villain. He entertained the idea as he started getting away from the city, finding himself on the beach once more.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice that the area around the ship and more specifically, the sparring ring, was rather barren. It should have been occupied by now. Instead of the entire group, there was just a single gartagen standing in the center of the ring. Soruk looked up, furrowing his brow a bit at the sight. Vuras had seemed rather eager to settle an unknown score, where was his enthusiasm now? He recognized the clanmate in the sparring ring was the same clanmate who had stopped Vuras' blow. He bowed a little and received the same. Before he could ask the obvious question, he had the answer given to him, "The spar is canceled. Vuras is currently grieving and offers his apologies."

Soruk paused, mulling over that bit of information. He responded slowly, "Grieving...? Grieving who?" The blademaster knew the answer before he heard it, but he hadn't expected Drakash to pass that quickly. The illness must have been fierce indeed, if it was an illness at all.

"Sheshren Ray'Kel Drakash has passed on, in his sleep. Vuras is not to be disturbed. We will be leaving to return to the keep shortly, so that he may stand vigil." It was custom to stay and 'guard' the dead family member, ensuring their spirit passed on in safety. Soruk nodded and moved to retrieve his dagger from the sand, sheathing it, "Pass on my condolences, when you are next able." The other gartagen nodded and turned away, heading back into the ship, leaving the blademaster alone.

There was nothing left for Soruk to do, so he started on his way back, with much less enthusiasm. Perhaps he had judged the younger blademaster too quickly. He heard the ship starting to take off after he had traveled some ways. He casted a backwards glance, watching it head off, higher and higher into the sky until he could no longer see it. He sent a silent prayer for safe travel before heading back into Sargasso.

It wouldn't take him long to return to the ship, at a time much more appropriate for most of the crew. Since he had little else to do, he decided to find where everyone else was and observe. He could return to forging when his mind was cleared. Perhaps 'hanging out' with the crew would distract his thoughts. It also occurred to him that he hadn't eaten yet and his belly gnawed with hunger.


=== End ===