The Fiery Red Head

The Local Tavern. Located in the back of the market district. After entering the market, one takes a left and follows the shops all the way to the end. The last shop, that there is the Fiery red head. This tavern isn't like anything anyone sees on the outside. The ale is warm, the women are hot, and the music is always sparking. Voices clamor and scream drinking songs as soldiers on leave look for the one woman to settle them down. The market feeds off the energy of the tavern, open twenty-four seven, and it is a good friendly atmosphere.

The tavern itself is a simple two story building, the walls high, When you enter the door, the bar is directly across from you, the dance floor before you and the stage, where various bands play, is directly to the right of you, centered on the wall. Stairs lead up, but no need if your brave. Rope climbs test your true man skills as you race with others to the seating tables on the open second floor, with four open balconies that look down to the lower level.

Across from the seating tables on the second floor is another dance floor for more Saravya's to strut their stuff. Visitors find themselves coming here before anywhere else, the bar and the building having said to also be filled with the tails of Revolution and war, pride and prejudiced, and love of country and king. The one place all want to go when they get to Arcanthul, is the Fiery Red Head.

The king among his people was treated no differently than anyone else. He drank, he laughed, he shared stories of conquest, war, and revolution with his fellow men and women. "There is nothing like one your stories, Shurik." One of the common soldiers shouts. Shurik just raised a glass to him, shouting over the roaring crowd of the Fiery Red Head. "You are the people who give me these stories to share. Without all of you, there would be no tale to tell!" The tavern filled with calls of agreement, some even shouting out to him "ALL HAIL SHURIK!" This brought a simple smile to his face. Shurik took his hand, rose the glass contained within his fingers to his lips and poured the ale down his throat, slamming the empty glass down onto the table as he did so.

Shurik's purple eyes watched over his people, grinning at their joyous time. There was nothing that could make him happier than seeing all the men and women of his city like this. He leaned back against the hard wood of his chair, taking in the views as he contemplated over how to make the lives of everyone better than they were already. He was humbled by his subjects, his friends, and nothing make him happier than to join with them in common celebration.

In his moment of contemplation, his hand so tenderly placed against his chin, his elbow resting against the table, one of the lovely woman of the bar this night plopped into his lap and laughed, leaning drunkenly, falsely, against him, her head resting on his shoulder as he lips tenderly pressed to his neck. They treated him just like any other patron, and he loved it. She whispered to him, taking his hand and pressing it against her stomach, trailing his fingers along her body as she guided him on a tour of her flesh. "Well, My King... How about a little dance." He smiled, being pulled from his thought as the woman stood up, pulling him off his chair and into the massive dance floor.

They danced, their bodies glided together across the dance floor like no one else. The movements synchronized as one. She was one hell of a dancer, and by the way she was groping and grinding, moving his hands all over her with every single beat of the fast pace song, she wanted the king. He smirked a little, his own egotistical flirting style being heightened by the drinks he had consumed.

The music stopped, the bodies ceased to move as she was about to lock lips with her king. He moved away from the woman, looking over one of the balconies towards the door. Guards had entered the first floor, a bird carried with them as they called out for their king. "Shurik, This guardian of Siram bears a message for you, sir." He nodded towards his men. "At ease, my faithful men." Shurik hopped the balcony, taking a rope down and walking towards the feathered messenger. Shurik lifted the beast onto his arm, removing the parchment as he read the note and chuckled lightly. "Really? She is coming here?" He laughed some. "Well, I haven't seen her since my crowning.." He smirked, remembering that long memory past of the little ruler of Siram presenting him with the crown. "What a surprise."

He smiled at the bird, never fully remembering its name as he moved towards the door. He gave the band a small nod and they began to play once more. Just outside of the door he looked at the guards. "Go now and tell the men at Fort Fall we have a Royal visitor on her way. I will be there shortly. I want to walk." The guards nodded and dashed off into the market, Shurik let the bird onto his shoulder and chuckled. "Well, guardian, lets go return you." Shurik strolled off, making his way towards the fort itself, still in his casual wear for the day.

Every step among the charcoal cobblestones sent a warm breath through her lucid figure. And every step brought her footfall closer to the intriguing heartbeat of energy surging down the street. The Fiery Redhead. Micah had heard stories about this club over the years. Her parents had frequented the place before she was born, and shortly after in celebration. Micah could just faintly remember the murmurs she heard through closed doors and bedroom walls of her brothers when they spoke of the women they met in the Fiery Redhead. From the stories, Micah would be lying to say she wasn’t already a bit intimidated by the place. She could only imagine the type of dances they might perform in such a place. How could she ever keep up with the heated power of their elegance?

By the time the first question of this popped into her head, Shurik was already opening the door. One glance inside and her nerves caught fire; no longer the cool droplet of water she had always been, but a bubbling stream approaching boiling point. And despite this, her bare feet were eager to take her over the threshold of the safe streets and into the unknown. The first thing she noticed was the heat. A wall of warm waves overcame her, enveloping the bare patches of her skin. Then came the fire, like a dragon’s breathe creating individual flames out of the darkness. They swayed over the dance floor in response to the music, which robbed her ears of the distant ocean spray and filled them with a loud beat. It took her a moment to realize that the flames swaying on the dance floor were not flames at all; they were people, tons of them! Men, women, but could they really be justified as people instead of pure figures of fire?

Her head whirled, fibers stretching and grasping to take it all in. And soon she was so overcome by the profound pounding of the club that her feet started to whirl as well. She stumbled; ungracefully so for her normal style, and collided with one of the dancing flames. She had little time to respond to the deep grunt of her victim’s chest before she caught her footing once more and stumbled back toward Shurik. She didn’t quite look at him, but she had a feeling he would find her childlike stupor amusing in the familiarity of his Redhead.

“She’s more dazzling then I could ever have imagined.” Her voice peaked through the Fiery Redhead like the murmur of a mouse, yet steadier than she felt. Every nerve had caught fire, yes, but she spoke evenly up to him, almost calmly. Odd. Even to her own mind. She felt comfortable here. Buzzing with curiosity and the desire to move and dance and sing; yes. But steady, and warm, and almost at home. It made her smile, feeling so at home in a place so far away. Her eyes lifted briefly to meet his striking violet gaze, and she gave a small breath of laughter before splaying off into the depths of the crowd, anxious to take on this dazzling Redhead. She wondered if he would follow after her, or go off in search of his own friends.

She wasn’t left to wonder long; a little ways into the club she felt a light tap on her shoulder. With a small smile, she twirled in his direction- only to instead meet the steady green gaze of her littlest guardian bird for the second time tonight. No wonder the tap was so light and familiar; Shurik’s would have been strong and sure. She heard a yelp somewhere near her feet as Minku recognized the presence of his friend. “Ptitsa? Did Sachie send you back so soon? He must be mad…” but something about the urgency in his little eyes told Micah thing were far past Sachiel being mad about her midnight breakout. He tilted his head upon her shoulder expectantly, and she brushed her face into the soft down of is feathers without question. The images started to flood her mind as he recalled to her all that had happened. She saw short, hurried glimpses from Ptitsa’s perspective. Sailing over the circle of islands she called home. Dipping down to the main island. Recognizing Sachiel’s figure, carrying a bloodied and broken corpse in his arms. The head of the corpse. The shock of blue hair. The cloudy eyes. The familiar face, so twisted with pain, so close to slipping away…

“Naili!” the shocked sob shredded through the pulse of the Redhead. She almost hadn’t recognized that the cry had left her own lips. And all at once she was running. Through the crowd, extinguishing the flames as she went with her icy grace. To the door. But wait. Shurik? “..Shurik!” she shouted, bordering hysterics at this point. Every second she waited pounded through her veins like the blood behind a bruise. She could hardly keep from seizing the door without a goodbye. As soon as she saw his familiar face within the shroud of dancing flames, her words started to spill, pouring out with every ounce of heartbreak left at the site of her broken sister, who had gone missing some time before now without a word.

“Shurik, its Naili! She’s back! But she’s hurt- blood, so much blood, and pain… I have to go! She needs me-.“ The urgency was giving way to terror, as was apparent in her voice. At a loss for explanation of the sites she had just seen, she begged him with the pain in her eyes to understand. “I’m sorry!” And with that she bolted out the door; Minku and Ptitsa trailing her in equal strides. She started to panic once she was outside. The pods would take too long. She might be dead by then! She needed her guardians. She needed- “Caladrius!” He was already there, with the same startled urgency in his eyes as Ptitsa and now Micah. With little thought she scooped up Minku and jumped onto Caladrius’ back. Another breath and they were off, rocketing through the dark sky. Her great guardian bird left a veil of silver and blue spray glimmering in his wake; tracing their path through the night. All she could do was cling to Caladrius and push away the tears that licked her eyes. So lost in thought at this sudden rupture of her mind, she hadn’t even remembered leaving her mother’s charcoal wraps behind in the land of fire.

Alexzender sat at one of the second floor balcony tables. Left elbow lying on the wooden surface, resting his head upon a propped fist. Right ankle casually placed over the opposite knee; finger tapping anxiously against the wood. This night was turning out to be dull and uneventful. Like other nobles, Alex respected the virtues of law & order and took both matters seriously. Unlike most nobles, he often took the law into his own hands. Without prejiduce or trial, he sought to rid Saravya of any and all criminal scum. Normally strange; for a member of the Lire house. Their family had always taken the political approach, when dealing with the law. Though, given his situation; it was no wonder why he sought to deal justice by his own hands. One night, the majority of the Lire family ended up murdered. Those that weren't present in the house, at the time; turned up dead later. Leaving Alexzander as the only living member to his household.

Most in his situation would have been left sulken and broken. For a short period of time, Alex was just that. He wouldn't leave the confines of his home and waited for whatever it was that eradicated his entire family to come back for him. It never did. One day, out of nowhere; Alex found a new resolve. He would hunt and kill those responsible. He spent most of his time either in the slums or the local tavern. Seeking information or clues to his family's death. Though, he was never lenient when it came to extracting such information. Within a few days of his renewal, he'd killed quite a number of low-life thugs and petty criminals. They had no useful information for him and they didn't deserve to live anyway.

It'd been almost a year since then. His position with the counsel has made it difficult for him to hunt but he still does. In a more careful manner, of course. The young man no longer wore clothing that gave away his noble heritage. His sense of style changed completely. He wore thuggish and stylish outfits and even changed the color of his hair; from blonde to dark-brown. The only two dead give-aways to his blood-line was his deep purple irises and his father's blade. A finely crafted katana; well kept and maintained , throughout his family's generations. Even now, he wore it to his side; settled within it's sheathe.

He sat still for a few moments now. The King seemed to be enjoying himself, at least; he thought. Having some brews and conversing with his people. A perfect pastime. For him anyway. Quickly losing patience, as the King had been pulled to the dance floor. Dancing wasn't something Alex found entertaining. Or even mildly amusing. He saw it as a waste of time. People could be out getting murdered in the city and their King was here, at the bar. Getting drunk and dancing. As the King fled from his dancer's lips, Alex leaned forward in his chair. There were guards at the door. Perhaps there was trouble? Finally; he thought. Hopefully, some leads. Though, he ended up leaning back into his chair in disappointment. Merely a royal visitor.

After the King had taken his leave, everything returned to normal and Alexzander sighed. This night wasn't producing any leads or clues at all. Time to bail. Raising from his seat, Alex leaped over the balcony he'd been sitting at. Landing with a loud thud that nobody payed attention to. They were all too busy with drinking and dancing to care. Except for one. As Alex made his way to the door, slim fingers wrapped around his wrist and gave him a tug. "Where you going, in such a hurry?" A woman asked, using a seductive tone. Turning his attention to her, he looked her over quickly. Fiery red lips matched the color of her curly locks that made up her hair and she dressed as seductively as she spoke. "Wait. You're that Lire boy, aren't you? The one who stalks the slums at night?" She questioned rhetorically, a sly smirk curving her lips. "You're cute." She said, clearly buzzed from alcohol "Thanks." Alex replied, monotone; ignoring her inital questions. "Have a drink with me." The woman started to pull him closer before he tore his hand from her grip. "No thanks." Alex said, turning to leave. "Suit yourself. Have fun out there." Her tone was suggestive. Alex turned his head to see a grin spread over her lips, before heading for the door.

Just as he was about to leave; his ears caught shout of someone's name. Though, with all the activity of the Redhead; he couldn't tell who's name it was. He doubted it was shouted in sense of trouble but Alex was always alert to the possibility of such. Then he heard another name shouted. It was Shurik's; the King's name. Before he'd even had time to turn around, Alex was nearly bowled over by the fleeting girl. Rude, he thought; collecting himself before heading to the door for a glimpse of who she was. Discovering she'd been the royal visitor; there clearly was trouble. Though, it was out of his grasp to handle. Expelling an exagerrated sigh, Alex left the tavern and headed towards the slums for some late-night field work.