TS - Day 04 - Bisanthium.

[Kalamos]

Bisanthium - the Dragon's Way Inn.

A squarish building, not far from the trading district, reeking of ale, sweat and assorted humanity.

Inside a few patrons start gathering; judging from the wooden aisle - no more than a crude platform - and the stocks above, this establishment must offer some kind of "visual entertainment" too.

Phoros finds himself a secluded nook, in a ill lit corner. In no way will the stranger able to sneak upon him undetected, he muses to himself.

Peering around, the warrior recognizes sure signs of brawls and scuffles. Rough place to carry negotiations on.
On the other hand, with the show underway, nobody will take notice of him, and his mysterious partner.


Phoros is growing impatient, and his men outside won't wait for him much longer.
He can smell cooking; a petite waitress starts darting from table to table, carrying plates and bowls to the patrons.

The warrior's stomach starts grumbling again; Phoros mentally slaps it into submission, for lacking discipline in the midst of a mission.

"No time for nature's calls".


A few drunken sods throw catcalls and whistles when a skinny dancers peer out of the thick curtains; a moment after she peers out again, flashes a coy smile, and ducks behind again.

As times goes on, the locale's crowd swells; only a few seats, beside the platform, are still empty.

Phoros waves the skimpily dressed waiter away; judging from her shape and glazed eyes, she must barely be of age - and not quite used to the job, too.
No place for modest young girls to be - the future duke mutters to himself.


The dancer steps out from the curtains once again; in the dim lamp light it is hard to discern her age or ethnicity - her lythe silhouette and blonde mane could betray Althwyran ancestry, yet no self-respecting woman from Althwyr would demean herself on the stage for a bunch of Tharagyan ruffians.

A slave, realizes Phoros, as claps and catcalls grow louder.

The ankyra tiptoes on the aisle, her flowing robes covering little but the barest essential; she starts brushing the chipped stocks off.
As worn and cracked as they are, no amount of polish will return them to their pristine shine; this is clearly something staged to warm the public up.

The patrons roar as the dancer takes one of her slippers off, and brushes her sole on the restraining apparatus; suddenly, she starts pouting, pretending she got a splinter from the cracked plancs - which could be no pretense at all... - and teases the closest drunkard into removing it for her.

Before the poor sod can touch the small extremity, the ankyra removes herself from the drooling fool's reach, and resumes her stock-polishing antics.


The establishment is now bursting with people, literally fighting to get inside; must be some special day, for the inn to be so replete with patrons.

Phoros is drumming on his wobbly table; trying to recognize the hooded man in the crowd - no easy task, as waitresses weave in the shifting rabble.


Close-by, a particularly drunken ruffian decides to have some fun on his own, before the actual show is on: he's cornered a small, pudgy waitress against a wooden beam. With his right hand he's raised the tray barely within the woman's reach.

The waitress puts up some resistance, struggling to hold onto the tray, but she's no match for the taller, stronger man.

Then, the brute grabs the woman's wrist, and lets the tray go: the woman tries hard to keep the bowls and cups level - if she spilled the stuff, she'd have to pay for it!

Holding her fast, the patron starts tickling the waitress's exposed armpit; the poor woman is biting her lips, trying to stand still as the drunkard is gleefully exploiting her precarious position.


Phoros silently watches as the ruffian works his way to the woman's belly and sides.

While somewhat stocky - Kathic origins, maybe? - the waitress is fairly good looking, with a full bosom, curly auburn hair, and sparkling eyes.

The shaggy drunkard, clad in a drab, colourless tunic, is clearly enjoying himself - nobody seems likely to help the woman either, quite the opposite: several patrons are actually cheering at the ruffian's cruel trick.

The waitress is quivering under the unreleting assault; her cheeks are now flushed, and she doesn't look like she can hold the laughters in for much longer.


Phoros must weigh his next actions carefully.

Will he help the waitress out of her *ticklish* predicament?
Or will he enjoy the merciless show for a bit longer?

 

[Duke Diablo]

Being jealous of the drunkard for having all the fun, Phoros thinks about jumping in. But, then again, he would most probably start a fight, and that could get in the way of his scheduled meeting. But, the waitress sure looked pretty, and Phoros hadn't had any sex(or tickling) for a looong time.

So, in a display of chivalry, he went to the place where the waitress was tickled. He intended to distract the guy and snatch the girl while he was looking away, being carefull that he doesn't spill the waitreses's drinks, for he wasn't intent on paying for them.

So, Phoros slowly walked to the scene, and whispered in the man's ear, pointing at the stage: "I'm sorry, but didn't that slaves bra just fall off?"

 

[Kalamos]

An Unexpected Turn of Events...

The drunken sod stands, jaw agape, for a few heartbeats, spying the stage for signs of topless dancers.

His chums, around, realising what's going on, start laughing at the poor fool, and call him names.


As the ruffian is still blundering about, Phoros swiftly dodges him, and dives in for the waitress.

With a fluid motions, he raises the tray, without upturning a single mug, and he's about to lift it away as the woman flashes her eyes open and her delightful features turn into a stormy scowl.

"Just what are *you* doing, big boy?!"


As the patron cheer on, the ruffian finally comes to his mind, slowly buying the situation in.

"Hey, are you stealing my fun, kid?" he croaks, in a raspy voice.

Phoros stands awkwardly, holding onto the wooden tray - a wrong move, and it's brawl time!

He can feel his guts squeezing, and his heart pounding faster; the familiar rush of searing hot energy is spreading through his body, pumping fire down his limbs.


"Ah, no reason to fight, you sissies."

The slave is now smiling again, eyeing Phoros appreciatively.

"Say, stranger..." she raps on the warrior's battered cuirass
"You tall but ain't half bad, after all."


Phoros can't believe the unexpected turn events are taking: the waitress grabs the tray from the future duke's hands, and slams it on a nearby table.
"Here!"

Patrons gather closer and start whistling, anticipating what's coming next.


"There's place aplenty," she winks at Phoros "for the likes of you."

Saying that, she lies back against the beam, and actually raises both of her smooth, yet muscular arms, lacing her hands behind her neck.

"The first one is free, cutie."


The ruffian beside is smiling broadly, inviting Phoros to have some fun together; the young warrior, on the other hand, is completely clueless.

Trained from childhood to fight - hard - for necessities, and dismissing most commodities as luxuries for weaklings, he can't believe Bisanthi people to be so complacent, even downright generous with foreigners.


"Say guy, you snuck on me pretty good..." the ruffian is now about to hug Phoros fraternally.
"Why don't you join us for a drink?"

"Or two!" echo in the patrons.


"So?" beckons the slave, against the wooden beam.
"Fed up already?"


Phoros glances at her full yet taut shape; his stare lingers on the firm breasts, barely covered by the thin fabric of the gauze-like vest; her red lips are glistening like ripe apples, and her mane of curly hair seems soft and fragrant, waving and quivering as if it had a life on its own.


Oh, Deyos!
Even debauchery has a good side, after all...

 

[Duke Diablo]

{OOC: Kalamos, thanx for this one! YOU ARE THE MAN! Sorry for such delay in my replying, but I didn't have time to come here and continue this. Now, I'm back.}

Phoros was still unsure if this was real or some kind of beautifull dream he might wake up from.

But, even if it was a dream, why not fully use it, Phoros thought. So, he nodded friendly to the ruffian beside him, and slowly approached the waitress. The ruffian circled her and came to her from back. He grabbed her arms so she couldn't wriggle away from Phoros and his nimble fingers.

Phoros stood right next to the waitress, only few centimeters from her beautifull figure. She didn't even try to offer any resistance. Phoros then began stroking her ribs slowly, making her squirm and giggle slightly. Phoros could see she was enjoying this a lot. So, he continued to tickle the girl slowly on her ribs, and then went on her belly, leaning even closer. He continued to slowly run his fingers across her belly, beggining at her skirt, and going all the way up to the edge of the vest, producing an erotic feeling for the girl.

But, the crowd grew bored of this slow tickling technique Phoros used, so, slowly, they began demanding more action, squirming and most of all, more hysterical laughter. Now, Phoros wasn't about to torture the girl, so he intensified the tickling just a bit. The girl started squirming harder as Phoro's fingers started slightly dancing on her belly, focusing near the bottom, at the very edge of the girl's skirt. Phoros noticed one thing about the girl that made him very pleased: the girl was slightly moaning whenever his fingers reached a bit below. Fortunately, the audience didn't notice this. They were too busy demanding a harder treatment for the girl. Knowing how the girl must feel at this time, Phoros whispered to her ear, resuming his tickling, as normal: "Mylady, would you like to continue this somewhere more... private? Or perhaps, you just want me to tickle you a bit harder here?"

 

[Kalamos]

The Proper Flow.

The Kathic slave is clearly enjoying her predicament.

Why not? There surely were worse job she could end up doing - the salt mines in Asperum dealt everybody the same harsh welcome; once entombed inside, only corpses left to see sunlight again - the few who survived, usually wished they were dead anyway.

Most of the patrons weren't that bad either; her former husband used to beat her, when he returned home completely drunk.

At least these guys paid for the fun - even if most of her tips ended up enlarging her master's pockets.

Good news was, the proprietor had been slaughtered a few days ago - rest his soul in peace - and she could try and buy her freedom off!

Maybe she could start a business like that on her own...


As Phoros is deftly bringing her to a climax, the hapless woman tries hard to hold the laughter and the moans in, by biting her luscious lips.

"S-somewhere... ohhh..." she finally manages to stutter "m-more... ahAh... private?"
"A-aah-ren't you..." she winks "running a bit, kid?"

Phoros flashes a wicked smile, using his natural charm and good looks in the unforeseen battle of wills.

"Maybe you are enjoying my... attentions, then, I must presume."

"Oh... you f-fiend!" she blurts.
"This is gonna cost you... ahaaah twice!"


The stocky slave is quivering under Phoros's assault; while a warrior through and through, he's always tried to keep his hands and fingers well cared of.

A sign of nobility, claimed his mentor, Valentinos, were clean, well cut nails.

And the future duke was quite keen to show the urban plebs his... digital talents.


The antics go on for a while; while clearly muscular, the slave is surprisingly compliant - as if she really liked her job somehow.

She had none of the sullen looks most unwilling servants usually sported.

Finally, the curtains open, and the real show commences .


"I must go, handsome." she chirps, as the ruffian slaps her firm buttocks.
She flashes a wicked smile, before shoving a wooden tab in Phoros's hands.

Juggling with the numbered token, the warrior scrambles back to his table.


Unsurprisingly, someone took Phoros's seat.

As the Ankyra starts dancing, on the aisle, Phoros studies the new-comer - a gaunt man with a scarred face, not unlike the stranger that he had met before, at the city gates.


What now?

 

[Duke Diablo]

Man, that waitress sure had a good time. A bit too good, his guts told him, so he must be very carefull of his next few steps with her.

This guy looked tough, so Phoros knew that he must thread carefully.

Slowly looking around, Phoros approaches the man friendly, then talks to him just so that the man could hear him: the crowd roaring ensured that their conversation will remain private, if it commences.

"Good evening, domine", said Phoros, standing next to the man, but watching out for the guy's next moove. "I believe we have met at the city gates and you wanted to... continue our conversation from before."

 

[Kalamos]

A Stranger by your Side.

Servants douse the lamps, throwing the locale in near darkness.

Braziers are being lit around the aisle, to draw the attention towards the performing dancer.

Musicians behind and beside the raised platform start playing the instruments, and the ankyra begins a complex sequence of rhythimic movements.


The scarred man seems oblivious to Phoros, apparently ignoring him until the young warrior grabs another, vacated, chair, and takes a seat by his side.


The ankyra wears a white make-up, with long, dark drop-like designs, resembling tears. The stark contrast of light and darkness is strinking, she almost looks crying, and her dance seems to be mimicking some kind of ancestral sorrow.

Maybe some legend of old.

She is moving at a slow, almost ponderous pace, then, suddenly, the music changes into a fast, shrill dirge, and her gestures turn into a frantic flailing of pale limbs.


While the stranger seems enrapted with the cryptic performance, Phoros expected something more... obvious.

The patrons, on the other hand, are enjoying the show, so the warrior decides to wait for a while, before questioning the man again.


The pounding subsides, and the ankyra slows down, tiptoeing on the aisle.

She must be acting a different part now: the servants light more torches around her, and her features look softer under the brighter glow.


"She is now playing Volothyra." muses the scarred man, almost taking Phoros by surprise.

"What?"

"Volothyra, the Rythian princess kidnapped by the minions of Lythas."

The performance is all about Tharagyan myth, then.

"Not bad, she's even executed the two-step part after the Herylapsos".

Phoros turns his eyes toward the platform, trying to decipher a patter out of the apparently random movements.


"Ragylos." utters the man, all of a sudden.

The name almost pierces the music and the clamour from the plauding rabble around.

"Hoc, Kayre." replies Phoros. "You surely heard of him..."


The gaunt man stands motionless, barely moving his lips.
"You are familiar with the slaughterer of Kayre Kosqati."
It didn't sound like a question at all.

"How comes?" he whispers.


What now?

 

[Duke Diablo]

A mysterious smile danced on Phoro's lips as he watched the stranger cautiously, but proudly, knowing that he had made some impression even before the conversation started. But, that could change in a moment, so Phoros decided to thread carefully.

"The city talks of things that happen within its walls. If you know how to listen, everything reveals itself. Everything."

Phoros could see that the stranger was not amused by his poetic speech. So, he went down to business.

"I have my sources in this town." Phoros didn't want to reveal all of his cards to this guy. He needed to be very carefull at what he is letting on. "They told me about a death of an influential merchant at the hands of something very powerfull. When I got this information, I wasn't so interested, since I didn't know who the killer was. But, when I inspected a bit, I found out that the one who I look for is closely connected to the dead merchant, in a way that he is the merchant's killer. So, it seemed that the merchant's family and I have a common enemy: Ragylos, so I went with this offer first to his partner then to his family. And, now we are here."

Before the stranger could say anything, Phoros continued: "But, before we go on, there is a certain thing I must know: How did you find out my... working name?"

 

[Kalamos]

Bluffing one's way through.

The gaunt man keeps watching the ankyra, apparently buying Phoros's story about Ragylos.

Rumors about the slaughter were sketchy, but since nobody survived the raid unscathed, no reliable witness could be found.


So far, so good, Phoros: the scarred stranger is buying your bluff; time to turn tables on him, now.
"How did you find out my... working name?"

The gaunt man allows himself a smile.
"I have sources... too."

 

[Duke Diablo]

Phoros has grown bored by these games, so he decided to go straight to business.

"But, let us speak of important things now. I need help to defeat Ragylos. And, I have my price: one tickle slave. Also, i get to keep one third of the treasure, set of armor included in that. The rest, you can take and share with the family. Two thirds of his enormous treasure hoard. Even one tenth is enough to make you one of the richest men in Aygomen. But, as I said, I will need 7 men. And, a tickle slave."

EDIT:{OOC: Sorry for the late posting. I had lots of things to do these days.}

 

[Kalamos]

Feel free to describe the ongoing show. When appropriate, I'll be posting your guest's reactions.