Kowaru wrote:
Kowaru waves away the wineskin Dixon offers him. "Thank you for the offer, but I do not drink. It is one of the lessons my master imparted to me." Kowaru grows silent for a moment, searcing for the right words to begin his story.
"The tales of my kind are not without merit - many of us struggle to find a place in the world, as neither humans nor orcs accept us as true kin. I have never known my parents, as I was abandoned upon the doorstep of a monastery. I cannot truly blame my mother, for I am sure I am the progeny of an orcish rampage turned aside. The monks did their best to raise me, but I had a savage heart within me, a...gift from my father, no doubt. It was an old monk by the name of Master Ping Xiao who finally appealed to my human side, and opened my eyes to his philosophy. He showed me that there is beauty everywhere we look, if we just stop but a moment and appreciate it. He taught me that 'as the hand, so is the mind; a closed fist is a closed mind, but an open hand is an open mind.' He taught me the ways of his order: how to fight, but how to bring peace as well.
"He was a good man. And he was killed by assassins. They tried to kill me as well, but Master Ping had already defeated most of them before he was brought low. They were paid to kill us, and I swore that I would find the ones responsible for my master's death. They gave me names, which led to more names, and so forth. Now I have found that the trail leads me to Eleder, a city far from my home. How Master Ping has angered someone here, I cannot fathom - but this is why I travel the Rose."
Kowaru sighs as he finishes his story, his shoulders slumping slightly, as though a burden was lessened from him. After a moment, he speaks again, wearing a serene smile. "Now, brother...tell me of Dixon Altamir, so I might know the man."
I enjoyed writing this post so much I gave Devon an avatar!
Before Kowaru's tale starts.."Well, if you will not have one, I will have a drink for the both of us." Devon fills his tin cup with wine and then leans back and listens to Kowaru's tale intently. When the half-orc is done, he remarks, "A tale of vengeance, I see, for a man of peace. Much contradiction, indeed. I wish you much luck, monk, though these tales hardly end well. For Master Ping then, a good man and teacher." He raises his cup and finishes it in one shot and pours himself another. "So you want to know about my brother, eh ?" He pauses, gazing into Kowaru's eyes, looking for a sense of trust and finds it in the half-orc's calm and gentle demeanor.
"Dixon Altamir, he was my twin you know, six minutes older and don't think he ever let me forget it. Hehe! I think I grew this moustache just to appear older." Devon smiles, stroking his facial hair, as he pauses to reflect, "Ahhh...I remember growing up, in the Zenj slums in Eleder, it was hard. We were orphaned early on, mom died in childbirth, pop never forgave us and his constant drinking got him killed in a bar one night." He shakes his head, as he takes a swig of his cup. "So there we were, 7 years old, living among the beggars and vagrants, starving and homeless, knowing any night could be our last. But there was Dixon, always comforting me, telling me better days were right around the corner. Many times, he gave up his meal just so I could eat, that's the type of person he was. And we met the most unsavory fellas in those slums, you know the ones I mean, the ones good with a knife in the back alleys. That's where we learned to fight and survive, most of all. Then, when we got older, when we were 12, I remember, we would walk for miles and miles to go find work in the salt mines of the wealthy Sargavan families. Oh, that was horrible, but there was Dixon, always watching my back. From there, we moved on to the pineapple fields on the outskirts of Outerwall, more grunt work. These hands have seen hard days." He raises his hands, staring at them, seemingly lost in every callous, reliving every scar. Then, the moment fades and he continues, " When we turned 16, off to military service. It's compulsory here, 2 years. Dixon and I got good with swords there, made some money when we came out, serving as guards, muscle. We finally left the slums and moved to Lower Harbor, working for the pearl market vendors, swimming for pearls in Zenj territory." Devon gets excited as he pours himself another drink, his speech much more fluid and fast paced. " I remember this one time, we pissed off these six tribesmen, wielding spears, sort of like Ialda. Talk about huge, they were as big as those shark-men; ok, maybe shorter, and angry to boot. Something about us stepping on holy ground and how we were going to be made examples of. Sh*t, I was so scared, thought we were going to bite it there. But Dixon, he had the gift of gab. He remained calm and parlayed an agreement with the tribesmen for future shipments of grain and cloth and even though, it came out of our pay, we never had problems with them again. That was Dixon, he never gave up, always looking for a solution. Hell, I'd have stayed a pearl diver forever, drinking and whoring away our profits, but Dixon, he had ambition. Always trying to make a better life for us. He got in good with this noble family, the Vanderborens. Like I said, he had the gift of gab, he charmed the hell out of them. Well, that was 5 years ago, and they've been like our patrons since then. Well, till about a month ago, when the patriarch and his wife died in a shipping accident off the coast. We got this job from their eldest daughter, Lavinia. On my, she's a hottie, but nothing compared to the 3 you're hanging with. Am I right or am I right, eh?" He smiles and pauses to take another drink. "That's the job I'm on now, bringing some merchandise back to her, recovered from the sunken ship. For sentimental value, I guess. I don't know, a job's a job. Anyways, she's good people, honest and fair. Her brother, not so much, a moody bastard that one, the rare times I've seen him." Devon pauses. "Whoa, as you can see, the gift of gab runs in the family. Sorry, if I was too long winded. That was good, therapeutic to tell someone how great Dixon was. Thank you, Kowaru." He raises his glass and addresses all present in the galley in a loud voice, "To Dixon, the man who saved my life more times than I can count and the finest brother ever."
The sailors raise their tin cups, "Here, here!"
