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Arizeem
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Posts: 42
Joined: Sun Jun 18, 2017 12:55 pm
Race: Avriel
Profession: Soldier
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Sat Jun 24, 2017 2:25 pm

4th trial of Ymiden, 717

Arizeem was startled awake by infernal screeching and clacking. In his dazed state, he almost jumped out of the bedroll. A tick later, he remembered. His unwelcome roommate, the Shitbird, just managed to wake him up yet again. It must have been occupying this cave room in the Forest of Stone long before Arizeem moved in, given the amount of… let’s just say that Arizeem didn’t call it the Shitbird for nothing.
“It’s still dark, damn it! Do you ever sleep?!”, screeched Arizeem in Lorien, and turned to his other side to try and get some more shut-eye. The bird started again. That did it! Arizeem’s wing extended in a strong flap, as he tried to literally eject the bird out of his small cave room by a violent burst of air. The only response was sound of all his unsecured little items clattering onto the floor. Just as the room went silent again, a wary chirp came out of one of the many holes in the uneven ceiling. No success this time. The little bastard is getting wise to this tactic, Arizeem realized. What’s worse, he was now wide awake from the sudden physical exertion. One day soon, he is really going to wring the neck of that annoying noisemaker. Realistically, Arizeem could have killed the bird many times over, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Maybe because a bad company is was still preferable to complete loneliness to Arizeem, or maybe he saw some reflection of himself in this ugly songbird without songs.
Refusing to spend any more energy on the damn thing, Arizeem slowly rose and picked up all the fallen items from the floor. He was lucky that the feather powder bottle had a tight lid. As it already was in his hands, he immediately applied some. The powder was the cheap stuff and smelled the part, but it got the job done. After the spat with his merchant family, Arizeem’s living standards plummeted. While he found that he could easily survive without most of the luxuries, unpowdered feathers felt just gross. Arizeem stretched, then scrubbed his teeth vigorously to get rid of the aftertaste well known to those with an unhealthy appetite for booze. He spat out for the last time, turned around and squinted at a ray from the sun, which was now slowly rising above the Forest of Stone.
Arizeem’s gaze shifted back into the room, on a long row of bottles placed along the wall. All of them were empty, drained in his latest binge. He took it as a sign - today is the day. What constituted his life up to this point has now been thoroughly consumed, leaving nothing behind. A large part of him wanted to buy another row of bottles and prolong this limbo for few more days, in fear of what the future will bring. Arizeem cursed under his breath. No, either do it today, or never. Emboldened by his self-imposed ultimatum, he threw on his clothes, affixed the coinpurse to his belt, and launched himself off the balcony. His wings snapped open in a puff of loose powder, and cut into the fresh morning air. Arizeem angled them to fly north, toward the offices of the Dominion in the central Avriel Sector. The rock cliffs zoomed by, the air around their sun-kissed faces already warming and rising. Arizeem lazily helped himself to some of the resulting ridge lift. As the Dominion offices broke the horizon, Arizeem separated from the cliffside and glided down toward the Dominion office building.
He touched down on what looked like the main entrance balcony dominated by a large metal-studded gate obstructing entry into the building proper. The gate was guarded by statues: a duo of fully armed and armored Avriel in triumphant poses, some heroes of old, no doubt. If only the knew the about company they are now in, smiled Arizeem for himself, not even bothering to read their names from the statue bases. They are probably long dead anyway, with all their true struggles and deeds mangled beyond recognition by generations of minstrel wannabes. Instead, he walked up to the gate, used its oversized metal knocker, and waited. Nothing. It must still be way too early.
Arizeem turned around, sat on the balcony and watched Athart slowly wake up. The market still looked alluring, now more than ever. Maybe he should go there to grab a drink, hopefully the office will be open when he returns. Still, he stayed put knowing that once he leaves, he won’t return. He watched a ship leave, the distant calls of the sailors still somehow carrying over the wind. He watched guardrel exchanging their posts with the new shift. He watched- “You aren’t here for th’ view, are you boy?”, croaked an old voice behind him.
word count: 824
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Arizeem
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Sun Jun 25, 2017 9:22 am



Arizeem spun around, looking at the old Avriel that somehow popped behind him unnoticed. The old man’s body had just as many visible scars as wrinkles, giving the decrepit elder an almost grotesque look. Yet, there was plenty of life in the old-timer’s dark eyes, a spark that Arizeem couldn’t help but to envy. The thick, very warm clothes that old Avriels are wont to wear were typical for a guy his age, but the sewn emblems identified their wearer as an officer in the armed forces. It’s decided, then. No easy way back.
“‘You mute or just that bloody rude?!”, asked the veteran with a dangerous curve to his grin.
“I was thinking about enlisting in the Dominion, sir, ”, responded Arizeem hastily, “but it looks like I arrived too early and-”
“And you woke me up with all that thinking noise.”, finished the officer dryly. “Really? Thinking about enlistment? Hey, do you need another half break of sightseeing to think? How ‘bout two breaks?” The old officer shook his head, fuming. ”I knew the Nashaki shitstorm was stretching the recruitment pool real thin - heck, they even pulled my gray ass out of the reserves - but this... looks like we are finally scraping the bottom of the barrell.”
A small part of Arizeem realized that he is supposed to feel anger at those words, but the old geezer’s verbal assault took him completely off-guard. He was now unsure even what is he yelled at for. The poor old Avriel had apparently lost several of his marbles in the course of his long life. “Sir, I am not sure what-”
“Well you better be sure! Either go in or fuck right off! You’re wastin’ my time! I swear I will kick you off this balco-”
“I want in.”, interjected Arizeem quickly, before the veteran’s temper could get any worse. The veteran squinted at Arizeem for the briefest of moments. The dangerous grin returned as if it had never left.
“Fine. Follow.” The old-timer walked briskly toward the gate and pulled it open. The gate opened slowly, reluctantly, the ancient metal hinges squeaking the whole time. It wasn’t locked, Arizeem realized, but the old Avriel couldn’t possibly have used it to sneak out of the building unnoticed, not with its loud hinges, could he? Arizeem shot a puzzled gaze at the back of the veteran. The veteran seemed to somehow feel that gaze on his back, because he stopped and half-turned to meet Arizeem’s eyes with his own, silently challenging Arizeem to voice his questions. Arizeem stayed silent, not wanting to give the old-timer an opportunity to rag on him any further. It didn’t help.
“Back in my Shadie days, ”, croaked the reserve officer, “I straight murdered a few daydreaming airheads like you. Always spared me the fair fight.” The officer let out something between laughter and cough, then turned back and started walking again. “So unless you want your name in a condolence letter home real soon, I suggest that you pull your head out of your ass.”
“Shadie? Do you mean the Shadow Wings, sir?”, asked Arizeem as he followed the veteran down the dark and humid corridor. That old grump must have led quite the life.
“You’re a lost fucking cause. Well, here’s the office if you still want to catch an arrow for Athart.”

Last edited by Arizeem on Fri Jun 30, 2017 10:31 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 574
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Arizeem
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Mon Jun 26, 2017 10:22 pm


When entered from the dark corridor, the Dominion office was painfully bright. The morning sun blazed through a gigantic caged window that spanned the entirety of one wall, lighting the airy, exquisitely furnished office. In the middle, atop a heavy ornamental carpet, there was a luxurious black writing desk with a matching set of chairs. The silver sconces on all the other walls weren’t currently burning for obvious reasons, but their polished reflector mirrors still beamed what sunrays they caught back into the room. The whole room was framed by inlaid cabinets.
“Fancy, eh?”, grinned the veteran. “Not mine, though. I am just keeping the chair warm for the bigwig, now that he’s away. Crisis diplomacy and such.” He hopped up and sat onto the table, which creaked in protest. “Good riddance, too. If I knew that the paper warriors live like this, I wouldn’t have spent all those years in the shit.”
As Arizeem’s eyes accustomed to the brightness, he realized that the office wasn’t as crisp and clean as it’s first impression would suggest. It probably was like that not too long ago, but now it was, for a lack of a better term, defiled. The carpet had many claw marks, as if some less-than-cultured Avriel treaded upon it carelessly, digging the claws in for grip and comfort. One carpet was pulled aside toward the wall and used as an luxurious complement to a cheap bedroll that was laid out under one of the cabinets. The adjacent mirror sconce was tarnished, as there was a candle stub pushed into what was obviously meant to be an oil lamp. But, by far the worst thing was the writing desk that the veteran was currently sitting on. It’s luxurious black lacquer finish was now completely ruined by uncountable chips and scratches. Arizeem blinked in disbelief. It was as if the office’s rightful owner pacted a rage spirit for housekeeping. Still, the savaged office was now somehow more fitting and honest. The old-timer’s continued presence seemed to be transforming the office to reflect the truth of the Dominion’s utilitarian, violent character. Arizeem decided he likes it more this way.
“Well, you can quit gawking. Tour’s over. Come up and pick up that chair.”, squawked the veteran.
“Pull up the chair, sir?” Arizeem wasn't quite sure what make of that request.
“No. You heard me. Pick it up. One hand. Go!”
Shrugging, Arizeem obeyed. The chair was made of robust wood, but not overly heavy. No tricks here.
“Now lift it over your head.”
Again, Arizeem obeyed. Again, easily done.
“The other hand, same thing.”
Arizeem repeated the whole sequence with his left hand, already growing irritated with this silly game. Was he being hazed? He didn’t have much time to think about it, as the veteran spoke up again.
“Put the chair back down. Now crouch. Heels on the floor.”
Arizeem didn’t go through all of this day’s ordeals to quit now, so he just bit his tongue and followed the order. Putting the heels on the floor caused some uncomfortable tension. Arizeem simply did what he could.
“Jump up. Now!”
Happy to leave the uncomfortable position, Arizeem jumped back, nearly hitting the ceiling with the flap of his wings.
“No! Without the wings, birdbrain! Again!”
Grinding his teeth he repeated the whole uncomfortable procedure, but the wingless jump was a just meager version the previous one.
“Fine, turn around. Now open the damn wings.”
It sounded simple enough. Arizeem complied. While he was quite insecure about his coloration, he didn’t think that the officer would be the type to care either about his personal scruples or unfortunate colors. Arizeem startled when the leading edges of his wings were suddenly grabbed by officer’s claws. He tried to wrangle them free, but the grip on his wings was nothing but iron. Arizeem’s confusion and fear deepened further as he felt leg claws latch firmly against his back, as if to get leverage. Then, that old madman tried to pull Arizeem’s wings right out of their sockets! Arizeem tried to pull his wings back towards the torso, but with the leg on his back, that wasn’t happening.
“Seems like those will stay on when maneuvering.”, commented the officer and finally let go of the wings. ”All in all, good enough. You aren’t a cripple and can follow simple instructions. Spare me that look, I want no bloody cripples in my Dominion.”
“You almost made one right now.”, snapped Arizeem angrily, trying to stretch out the painful cramps.
The officer let out a dry cackle. “That’s because you are a weak sack of shit. But they will fix you real quick in basic.” The old officer looked down at his hands, now coated with the wing powder that Arizeem applied just a break ago, and dusted them off. ”Ew. Just use chalk, you nasty fuck. This makes you smell like a cheap whore... what was your craft again?”
Last edited by Arizeem on Wed Jun 28, 2017 10:08 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 849
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Arizeem
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Wed Jun 28, 2017 8:57 am


“I am a son of-”, started Arizeem.
“Son’s not a profession!”, interrupted the old officer once again.
“Well, I travelled with a performer troupe.” Arizeem noted the officer’s inquisitive eyebrow and realized that the old troglodyte probably doesn’t know what a troupe is. So, Arizeem decided to elaborate on his biggest success instead. ”I did this comedic show, but really it was more of a-”
“Comedic?! Like, a jester? A fucking fool?” The screeches of the volatile old Avriel were gaining in volume again. ”What’s wrong with you? Are you touched in the head? Demented?”
Arizeem didn’t respond. He fumed in silence, staring defiantly into the eyes of the old-timer that was now trashing the one passion of Arizeem’s life. He decided that the officer’s attack didn’t deserve any response. The demeaning physical examination was one thing, but now it was becoming apparent that everything Arizeem ever did was just one big joke to the recruiting officer. Arizeem was apparently nothing but a cut of meat to the officer, and an undesirable cut at that. Coming here was a mistake.
“Answer me!”, pressed the officer.
“Not demented enough. I will see myself out.” Arizeem sneered and moved towards the door. Immediately, the veteran blocked his path.
”Giving up?! Has our little comedian taken a big fucking offense?! Tough shit! This isn’t the Low School!”, screamed the officer right into Arizeem’s face. When given no response, he continued in a lower, hissing voice. ”If you aren’t demented, why were you a human’s fool? Trying to get into the fucking Dominion, no less? Why?”
“I needed to find companions for the clowning, so I went directly to the source.”, replied Arizeem slowly, so the old idiot could understand. Disdain can go both ways. But before Arizeem could breathe out in relief as he let some of his frustration off his chest, it was his stomach that exploded in searing pain. Arizeem doubled over, stuck between dry heaving and desperate gasps for air. Through all that discomfort, he wondered. The veteran that had just gutpunched him was so fast. Arizeem didn’t even see the blow coming.
“Hurts?”, asked the officer with mock concern.
In response, Arizeem merely hacked out a glob of what seemed to be bile right onto one of the heavy ornamental carpets. Unable to talk at the moment, he settled on giving the old-timer the stink eye.
”Good. Pain is the wisecracker’s wage here. Well then, whatever sissy crap it is that you do, you do still have some backbone when pressed. We can’t have a coward that will just crack and leave his fellow squaddies in the shit. That’s the bloody worst.” The veteran leaned on the wall, crossing his arms. ”With that crazy background of yours, I had to make damn sure. But it looks like there is still some hope for you, mister comedian.”
In the meantime, Arizeem settled in a more comfortable breathing pattern. The pain has dulled somewhat. “Gdd t’ knw tht b’ting recr’ts isn’t y’r de- def’lt p’licy.”, he managed to force out.
“Huh? No, it isn’t. The stooge that usually roosts in this chair is probably sweet as honey, doing the whore’s job. And I, I should be home, sleeping in, eating soup, yelling at grandkids, the works.” the old officer spat. ”I fucking hate this. They gave me back the colors, but not the sword. I am a warrior, damn it!” The irritated elder started pacing the room. “This politicking disgusts me. They feed the boys lies in a pretty office, and then ship them off still green, to die for some bloody slave-race.” As the elder walked by the luxurious writing desk, he raked his claws idly across its polished surface. Thin streamers of black lacquer emerged where the claws touched the desk, leaving behind deep gashes right down to the raw wood. ”Why don’t they just let the wingless kill each other? Then, if we feel like it, we can simply stomp on the throat of whoever’s left. It’s the blood of our own damn children behind this diplomatic nonsense!” The old Avriel took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. His gaze fell back on Arizeem. Then, he continued in a softer voice. “What’s your name, comedian?”
“Arizeem the Comedian.”, replied Arizeem, now standing straight, massaging his stomach. It still hurt, but there didn’t seem to be any lasting damage. Most of his anger was gone, now that the understood the nutty old-timer better. He was asked for his name. Did that mean that he was an actual person now?
The officer cackled. “So, what’s it gonna be, Arizeem? The roll or the door?”
word count: 810
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Arizeem
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Thu Jun 29, 2017 8:40 pm


Arizeem thought for a breath or two. The last few bits of time were more than he could process. That alone was something new for Arizeem’s mind, which usually thrives on chaos. Great, now he was thinking about how he feels about his feelings - another level of complexity. Arizeem licked his lips. “That would have been a much easier question just a few bits ago.”
The old officer flashed a crooked smile. “That means you have stopped with all that fucking dreaming and started to actually think.” The veteran cracked his knuckles and slowly made for the door. “I will leave you to it. I need to attend to a pressing business real quick.” The officer paused at the door. “Meaning I need to take a leak. Don’t get old, boy. It’s a bloody stupid prize for a lifelong effort.”
The door closed behind the crass veteran and Arizeem was alone with his thoughts. It was an unwelcome company. The reality of the Dominion now seemed much bleaker than all the epic stories circulating around and beyond Athart would seem to imply. There’s much more misery than glory. Or, isn’t all glory just narratively polished misery? Arizeem didn’t want to be miserable, but he also didn’t want to return to his meaningless, uninspired life. Then, what should his days be like? He had a very hard time imagining himself in the uniform, but also a frighteningly easy time imagining himself with a bottle, drinking yet another wasted day away. Maybe the right question is, what should his old days be like?
That turned his thoughts to the old veteran, the one who humiliated, scorned, even physically hurt him. Arizeem decided that he hated the harsh officer as a person, yet liked what the old codger stood for. He was, for both better and worse, the truth of the Dominion. A wretched hero, and a heroic wretch. Yet, he seemed happy enough in his own grouchy way - an old man with no apparent regret, a life fulfilled. Arizeem envied him. Then, Arizeem startled. It looked like his mind went on a tangent again. He had enough self-awareness to realize that he won’t reach a sound conclusion in time. He already knew that he won’t able to follow the required chains of thought for long enough to form any real plan. As always, he was stuck just being himself, only really able to go with the flow of whatever life throws at him. That had cost him dearly many times in the past.
Arizeem sighed, approached the ruined writing desk and sat behind it, tracing a few of the deep scratches with his own claw. Did the old-timer ruin the diplomat’s office out of plain spite, or was it meant as a statement? In other words, did the veteran retain some feel for symbolism through all the years in the army, or does the service really kill people inside? Alas, Arizeem doubted that he would get any straight answer from the officer. Wondering briefly about how would such vandalism feel, Arizeem experimentally raked his own claw across the table. He felt the coating resist for a trill, then give and peel away in a long, straight ribbon. Still, the experience provided no real insight into the mind of the veteran. But… what if the damage is forced to be a statement? That would surely force people to acknowledge it as such, provided they are able to.
Arizeem bit his claw in thought. Many stray ideas came to mind, but he eventually settled for an old saying that he felt could be modified for the intended purpose. Arizeem removed the claw from his lips and set it against the table, etching carefully in a small script:

AS LIFE NEEDS NO GOAL
AS JOY NEEDS NO REASON
AS LOVE NEEDS NO CLOTHES
AS LOYALTY NEEDS NO GOLD
PRIDE NEEDS NO LACQUER


Arizeem double checked the message, happy with how the additional act of vandalism turned out. Then, he walked to the large window, looked outside at the now fully awake Athart, and waited. There was another ship incoming. A small one. Arizeem remembered seeing this type many times, but he couldn’t remember how it’s called.
word count: 715
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Arizeem
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Fri Jun 30, 2017 8:00 pm


It didn’t take long at all. The heavy interior door were almost kicked open with the force of the veteran’s return. The old-timer’s beady eyes immediately seeked out Arizeem. “You are still here. So?”
Arizeem turned away from the window to face the veteran. “May I see the form?”
“If you want in, you must see the fucking form.” The officer opened a drawer in the cabinet that was the closest to the door. He bent to look into the open drawer, then took out a single piece of paper. When he straightened his back with some difficulty, he quietly cursed and slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary. “You will even need to sign it.”, added the old Avriel as he moved toward the ruined writing desk.
“Just sign? Nothing else to fill in?”, wondered Arizeem.
“You are fit for service.” The officer slapped the paper onto the desk and gestured for Arizeem to come closer. ”We don’t give a fuck about anything else.” The veteran took the quill out of the inkwell and handed it to Arizeem. ”Here. And while you are at it, some put their next of kin under their name in case anyt-” The elder’s head suddenly snapped to another place on the desk surface, and he squinted as if to read something small.
Here comes the moment of truth, Arizeem realized. He was preparing himself to bolt for the door if the veteran decides to get violent again.
The veteran chuckled, then breathed in through his teeth. ”Trying to be smart, eh? Pretty words. From you, they don’t mean shit. Don’t fucking presume that you know anything about the last two.” He shook his head and turned fully toward Arizeem. “You better stop playing your stupid games with me and sign the thrice-damned form before I start with games of my own.”, hissed the officer his indirect threat.
“Already signed. Done.“ The veteran’s initial reaction was all that Arizeem needed to make his decision. “Here.” He handed the form back to the officer, along with the quill.
The old Avriel yanked the paper from Arizeem’s hands, looking it over. ”Right. At least you didn’t scribble anything dumb in here too.” The officer clicked his tongue. ”Hm, no next of kin?”
“I don’t think they would care.”, answered Arizeem quietly.
“Are you really going to be such a piece of shit toward your family?!”, snapped the veteran with sudden force.
That gave Arizeem a pause. “Aadayn Marquallan. Galeeclah Marquallan.”, he rattled off.
”There you go.” The officer scrawled the provided names onto the form, then dropped the quill back into the inkwell. He picked the form up from the table and fanned it to dry the ink. “So, recruit, you are a weirdo that acts.”
Arizeem merely nodded, unsure where is the officer going with this.
The officer sighed. ”How about you try your best normal fucking person impression while on duty? Actually, shut your yap about the whole comedian part. It has never happened, if you don’t want to be plucked raw the very first fucking day. You don’t remember doing it. I don’t remember hearing it. Never. Happened.”, punctuated the elder each sentence with a tap of his claw on Arizeem’s chest.
“I have always had a very hard time with the normal person role.”, smiled Arizeem sadly.
“Then learn quickly, for your own bloody sake.”, snapped the veteran. “The next recruit group starts in four trials at dawn, front yard of the Dominion Headshe- uh, Headquarters. Your name will be on the roll. You better be there for the call. And don’t drink the day before like you did now. Don’t think I can’t tell, you fucking boozer.”
Arizeem nodded. “Four trials, dawn, Headquarters.” No promises about the drinking he wanted to add, but thought better of it. Instead, one more question came to mind. “Officer, may I ask something? Personal…-ish?”
The officer was occupied with storing Arizeem’s documents into one of the filing cabinets. He paused and lifted his gaze to meet Arizeem’s. “Yes, I really had to go for a leak. No, it’s not some dumb test. You dunce might not have noticed, but I really am an old fart and-”
The unsolicited reply very quickly approached the too-much-information territory. Arizeem waved his hand to stop the old man’s rant before it could gain any more traction. Still, he didn’t dare to verbally interrupt it. Luckily, the method seemed to work, as the officer stopped, looking in mild irritation at Arizeem’s waving hand. This emboldened Arizeem to continue. “I meant to ask - did you regret enlisting?”
“Yea, so many bloody times I lost count.”, spat the old-timer. His face was stern, but there was mirth hiding somewhere deep in his dark beady eyes. “But I would do all of it again. Now fuck off, comedian. And don’t get yourself killed too early.”
“With your permission, I will take my leave then.” Arizeem made for the door, then turned around to deliver the usual formal farewell, when he noticed the veteran’s silent salute and expectant stare. Of course. Arizeem tried to copy the gesture. When Arizeem saw the officer’s increasingly furious expression no doubt caused by the botched copy of the salute, he knew that ‘right now’ would really be a good time to leave. Hastily, Arizeem walked out of the door and slammed them shut. As Arizeem briskly walked back through the dark corridor, he wondered. The current trial has barely begun, and he has already faced more discomfort and abuse than the entire last season. So, why was he unknowingly smiling?
word count: 967
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Pegasus
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Renown: +1000 +
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Thu Aug 03, 2017 7:43 pm

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Arizeem

Overview

Oh, why did you apologise in your request!? This was a great read and I enjoyed reviewing it. I loved the veteran, although his language was fowl (fowl.... get it?!) seriously, a great read, a nice intro to your pc and I'm glad that you signed the papers. Really well written ~ good stuff! If you've got any questions or feel like I've missed anything, drop me a pm. Thanks!

Points

XP: 10 points (solo)
Fame: +3 (joining up)
Devotion: None

Loot

Nope

Knowledge

Animal Training: Birds: They get used to scare tactics
Cosmetology: Feather powder is a necessity
Detection: Watching details from above
Detection: Look for details when surveying a room
Discipline: Not losing your temper in the face of rudeness
Endurance: The pain of a gut punch
Etiquette: Military etiquette: The Basics.
Writing: Vandalism can be art?
word count: 158
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"Red in hoof and claw....."
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