Okdes

The Search for Hoid

14 posts in this topic

((Before I start, this is open for anyone to join, so long as they talk to me first.))

Mathwyndyl was annoyed. He knew he shouldn't be, and he knew it was partly unwarranted, but he was annoyed anyway. Even though he had been stationed in this city for a few years, he still occasionally got downright annoyed by how...well. How everything it was. Hallendren was overwhelming, even when prepared for it. Not that he was complaining. This city beat New Seran any day. But Ruin, did it have to be so bright? So loud and colorful. It was crowded and bustling, too. Rusts, it was like that one glowing city Khriss took him to. Those had been good days, seeing the Cosmere for the first time, traveling to new planets. The wonder still hadn't faded, he supposed, but the danger had leeched a little excitement. The things that stalked the worlds were worse, much worse than his nightmares back on Scadrial. He thought koloss were bad until he encountered the Wraiths in the Forest. Those things....he shivered.

His mind drifted back to the present as a man jostled in to him. He gave a slight scowl, but kept looking off in to the distance. That part was slightly his fault. He kept a low burn of zinc in his stomache, gently rioting a few people in the crowd. He wasn't really paying attention to who or what, which was unusual. But his orders had told him to keep burning zinc, or one of his contacts couldn't find him. So, a Seeker. He gently tapped zinc, trying to think his way through it. No solutions came to mind. Every possibility came with the possibility that the target would think of it. Frost had described him a cunning, crafty, and capable. Mat couldn't help but wonder about Frost's knack for alliteration, but he let it go. His other contact would also find him, but he had no idea how. Probably had something to do with the ridiculous clothes he was wearing. It stuck out, even in Hallendren. Some kind of white robe-kind of thing he didn't recognize, but apparently his contact would. He had seen Khriss wear it once or twice, but hadn't mentioned it. He just figured it was some cultural thing, maybe from her own homeworld. perhaps the other stranger knew Khriss.

He missed her, a little. He had seen her about a month ago, in that dinky bar he often went to. She very obviously had been following him, but he didn't mind so much. She had taken a few more notes about his nature as a compounder, and tried to convince him to gain breaths to test cross-systemic interactions. He still refused, citing non-interventionism. She'd laughed, but, hadn't pressed him. damnation, only a month, and he missed her again.

He scowled again. Rust and Ruin, what took them so long? Did it really take so long to....to..

Someone approached.

 

 

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I walk through the crowded streets, the colors and sounds nearly overwhelming me after years spent on roshar in the kings court. I had learned how to blend in among the nobility, no one had questioned my apparent lack of history after the first few months, but how did one hide in this mess of people?

Then I remembered I had a job to do. I began to burn bronze, the long-since familiar metal giving me no small amount of comfort. I noticed an allomantic pulse coming from the center of the crowd and immediately tears began to form. The pulses were home they were... I shoved down the emotions and headed toward the man.

This whole city vibrated to my bronze sense, a fact I planned on keeping to myself, just like the storm-light I could feel shredding through my senses. If someone found out I could sense things like that, more people would be taken from home. So I kept quiet about it. I wonder what made this city so special as to be the capitol of a nation, other than the lack of normalcy.

I approach the soother and, with a flourish of my right hand, bow, swiping his knife with my left hand as I did so. Better to have a disarmed stranger than an armed one. "How are you good sir?" I asked in my rusty scadrian. Rusts, it was only three years! How could ones accent be that heavily affected after only three years!

I continued to smile as I straitened from the bow. "A soother I asume, and oddly dressed one at that. Do you know why we're here?"

I stare at him appraisingly, searching for anything suspicious and only finding his bracers. A feruchemist as well then. I grew excited.

Edited by ShadowLord_Lith
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Mathwyndyl gave the younger person in front of him a slight annoyed look. "Rioter." He grunted. "Zinc, not Brass." He ran his eye over the stranger. "Rusts, kid. How long's it been since you were home? Your accent has gone full Hallendren." He let a small laugh, glancing around the crowd. He didn't expect anyone to understand their language, and the fact they were speaking in a foreign tongue probably wouldn't attract attention. His upper lip flared in slight annoyance at the theft, and he subtly rioted the strangers trust. Rust and Ruin, that was basically force of habit by now. He shifted slightly, one hand slipping casually down in to his pocket, keeping direct contact with the gun tucked into his belt. He didn't care what Frost said, he would break this kid's hand if he tried to take Mathwyndyl's gun.

"Mathwyndyl." He said, offering a hand. He tapped a small amount of zinc from his third ring, thinking. This stranger might have killed and impersonated the actual contact. He rioted trust, feeling out for other, more deceitful emotions. Nothing came up. He could have been trained? Unlikely. He tapped zinc harder, his thoughts accelerating. Who? He might need to kill him. He had a few hidden weapons he could use. He'd have to get him somewhere unseen. Alley, twenty-three feet to his right. Tell the man to follow him down to meet other contacts. Stab him. Dump the body in the cognitive realm. Last-case. He stopped tapping Zinc, only a second or so having passed since he offered his hand.

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I looked at the man, my excitment dimming. I could sense his allomancy, and I was still practiced enough to tell what emotion he was pushing. I palmed his knife, blade resting against my forearm, and gripped his hand, forcing him to take hold of the weapon. then i grabbed his wrist and pulled the knife dangerously close to my face, a mere inch from my eye. "The names Naan, and if you dont trust me, get it over with. We're hunting hoid now, and we dont have time for mistrust in our little hunting party." I smiled, an unerving smile I'd learned from the kings wit. My that fellow had been a nightmare. I was slightly surprised by my rashness. If this man chose to distrust me, he would be in th perfect position to end me. I tapped awareness, making me more alert, more... aware of my surroundings. Hand in his pocket, a weapon. Gun? Possibly. I noticed other things about the man: his hair length, his stance, his handedness, even his confidence. I did not want to cross this man. I stopped tapping bronze. I could take him down five different ways if I had too. Though by the looks of it, he might be prepared to beat any of them. I had probably just killed myself, stupid bravado. I kept smiling.

Edited by ShadowLord_Lith
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Mathwyndyl let out a slight hiss of annoyance, ripping his hand out of Naan's grasp. He still held his knife, considering stabbing the stranger. "I don't trust much of anyone. But I see your point." He grunted. He glanved around. "Others should be here soon." He looked annoyed still, glancing the stranger up and down. "How long since you been home? Rust and Ruin, it's been a while since I've seen one of my people." The man was obviously a Seeker, but was he anything more? Mathwyndyl himself wore rings and small bracers to keep his Feruchemy hidden, so maybe the stranger did too. He left an unspoken silence between them, one that he hoped Naan's could understand. If Naan's tried anything like that again, it would not end well for the teen.

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Talasari looked around thinking i hate that, and I hate that, oh and I really hate that. But he was just being pessimistic. He was also crazy. He knew this because he saw his wife sometimes, and even spoke with her. She kept telling him that she was just a cognitive shadow, but he knew she was dead. He saw the two men he was supposed to meet with. These were his partners. He shuddered. Partners. He had been partners with his wife for so long, it felt wrong to have other partners. He strode over to them and said, "Hello can you two stop bickering like two sharks in a tank? Or must I resolve the issue? I am also here by word of Frost  so can we all just get along?" I wondered if they would-SPARKLES!- actually let us get on woth our job. They seemed rather... unlike Reah.

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Mathwyndyl turned and gave the newcomer a look-over. The smallest amount of annoyance crossed his face as he did, but something else registered deep in his eyes. Another emotion, further down. He subtly rioted the newcomer, mostly by force of habit. The stranger sounded like he was from Hallendren, but so did Naan, so it's entirely possible he wasn't a native. Even it he was from Scadrial, few people could detect a rioter. If he not from there, the stranger had no chance of noticing Mathwyndyl's subtle adjustment.

Regardless, Mathwyndyl rioted him. The stranger's emotions were weird, fluctuating oddly. Rust and Ruin, had Frost sent someone insane on this mission? What was wrong with him? "So. You're also here." Mathwyndyl said coldly. He had switched to Nalthian, to make things less confusing. "Do you speak any other languages? I prefer not to be overheard." 

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"Yes, I speak scadrian just fine thank you I visited with Reah for a year or two." This man wore bracers, a ferruchemist then. I wonder if I can-ARRRGGGHH!-get to like these men, that other scadrian is quiet. 'Never trust a quiet man' his mother used to say.... But she was wrong most of the time anyway. "I have decided to trust both of you." I say less hatefully.

Edited by DreamLord_Erith
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I stare at the new-comer, my bronze-sense getting violently active pulses. The pulses felt unpredictable, beautiful, almost alive. I noticed that the colors around him were too deep, too alive, too perfect. He had an impressive aura. "What kind of magic does this place have?" I asked in a soft voice. It took me a moment to realize I had spoken in rosharan. Rusting storms, that was an unpleasant realization. I tapped awareness and flared my bronze, searching for anything and everything, only finding the same impossibly lively thrumming. It was beautiful. My gaze glazed over as I lost myself in the beautiful beat, it's enrapturing pulsing pulling at me... I shake myself, returning to reality.

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"We have breaths. The more breaths you have, the more powers you get. When you get a certain number of breaths you get whats called a heightening. I have enough breaths to get me to the third heightening." I then demonstrated my other abilities by tying him up with woven spider silk ropes and making them bounce him up and down. "Breaths also allow us to awaken. Awakening is giving your breath or breaths to an object, and give it an order. Our breaths also enhance the color around us, depending on how many breaths we have the more startling the effect." I love those ropes, they are all I have left of Reah. Colors curse Hoid!

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My first reaction to a magical, white, silken rope coming to life and grabbing me was to freeze.

When it began to bounce me, I let out a yell. The world spinning violently, I grabbed the thing, getting more panicked by the second, and began trying to untie it. The storm rusted thing resisted my efforts. I then, still panicking, whipped out my knife and, tapping my metal minds to increase my awareness, I begin cutting the ropes. I was not going to go down so easily.

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(Sorry, I didn't realize anyone had posted.)

Mat eyed the two with a look of distaste at first, but it turned into open anger when the Awakener started with the ropes. "What are you doing?" He hissed in Scadrian. He glanced at the crowd, some of whom were staring at the foreigner struggling against the ropes. Mathwyndyl looked at the Nalthian (Frost had called him...Talasari?) "Idiot, take the ropes off before you get us arresting. Rust and Ruin, what's wrong with you?" He tried to keep his voice low, but the anger was obvious. He unconsciously started tapping zinc again. Insane. May have to restrain him. If he causes problems, leave him stranded on a world. Idiot. If he tries to do anything, kill him. May be the only way. Rust, I hate killing. I have to do it sometimes. Remove one path so that more remain open.

By now, Mathwyndyl had about his fill of these two. It had only been a few minutes.

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(It's alright, I only just noticed you'd posted; sorry. :ph34r:)

I finally managed to cut myself free from the ropes binding me, cutting off my instinctive tapping of bronze. As I dropped to the ground, I I noticed that the rope also fell limply to the ground, whatever magic had been animating it simply... leaving. Whatever had been put in that rope was now gone and had no chance of being recovered; which was a shame. After seeing the Magic in action, I wanted to gain some, and the way he'd been able to infuse the rope with his 'Breathe' suggested he might be able to give me some as well; but that would come later, for now we had business to discuss, Hoid related business.

"Now that that's over," I said, my voice hard and sharp, anger obvious on my face, "can we return to the matter at hand? Sorry about your ropes, but I don't handle being messed with very well." I turned back to Mathwyndle. "What did Frost tell you to do once we arrived? Did he give you any leads as to Hoids location?" 

Edited by ShadowLord_Lith
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You, the lonely nquisitor walked down the street, wearing a cloak over your eyes of metal. You're looking for him, just like everyone else in this city. Your name is Cleo, and you used to be kind. Then, in a forgotten town, you'd came under the influence of Ruin. You've traveled the Cosmere and found Devotion's splinters calling to you. Zealous destruction. 

You burn your metals deep in your body. Kai, the other inquisitor you'd once loved, is gone. She was lost to the winds. Whether or not she's died is questionable. You don't care and you act as if she is. Now you simply pass from place to place, searching for that mysterious man known as Hoid.

"...he give you any leads as to Hoid's location?" you overheard. 

You step into the conversation like a ghost. Your voice is low and metallic, like nails on a chalkboard, whatever a chalkboard is. You've been left for dead a million times and it shows.

"You too search," you say, and you don't ask it as a question. Just a fact. You can tell. You don't show your spikes, just a shadow where your face would be. "For Hoid." 

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