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Qen of Sais had arrived in Cairo by ship, traveling up the Nile with his son, Mahu. He had called in some favors and arranged a quick journey, and the ship captain said nothing both when he picked up and dropped off Qen at the docks. Father and son did not travel far. There was a small gathering-place not far from where the boats loaded and unloaded their various cargo, for those throats too thirsty to wait for better options further in the city. This was where he had made plans to meet his informant. He was somewhat relieved when he saw the old woman with the mole on her cheek, plus the old weeping palm tree, just as was described. He also saw the informer herself, clothed in rags, teeth missing. She waved Qen over, with a smooth and subtle flick of the wrist. Qen came.
"They say he's there, in the upstairs room," the informer said, nodding in the direction of a two-story building across the street. "He was reveling last night, really living it up. If you go now you might still catch him while he's sleeping." She held out her hands. Qen took a sack of coins from his bag and dropped it in her palm. He paid well for information, and information like this was precious. The pirate prince known as Lukos the Greek was infamous on both sides of the sea, a raider and a slaver. There were many bounties on his head, but Qen was only interested in one: the one who paid the most. He had been tracking Lukos for weeks, following whispers up and down the Nile, and he only half-expected to actually find credible clues. The gods had smiled upon him, and now he was closing in on his prey. Hopefully the gods would continue to smile upon him and let him collect this bounty.
"It smells like fish," Mahu observed, wrinkling his nose.
"Stop complaining." He pointed to a spot nearby. "Wait here."
He entered the building and found the ground floor a dimly-lit den of men and women at rest, lost in a cloud of smoke. There was the potent smell of herbs and woods being burned. Wordlessly, he prowled through the den, across splayed legs and snoring bodies. He was halfway up the stairs when he saw a sudden movement. Just for an instant he caught glimpse of a tall white man with wild brown hair passing on the flight above. He bounded up the stairs but he moved too slow. He saw the tips of the wild brown hair disappear over a balcony and then heard the sound of a man colliding with stone. But in a flash the figure was up and running again. Qen did his best to keep up, but soon found himself falling behind.
Suddenly he saw the face of his son looking at him. "Father! That way!" Qen ran around the corner, following Mahu's directions. With every stride he could feel the muscles in his legs burning and the pace of his heart getting faster. He tried to imagine everything that the money from this bounty could buy him, how it could feed them, prepare them for Qen's larger mission of revenge.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Qen of Sais had arrived in Cairo by ship, traveling up the Nile with his son, Mahu. He had called in some favors and arranged a quick journey, and the ship captain said nothing both when he picked up and dropped off Qen at the docks. Father and son did not travel far. There was a small gathering-place not far from where the boats loaded and unloaded their various cargo, for those throats too thirsty to wait for better options further in the city. This was where he had made plans to meet his informant. He was somewhat relieved when he saw the old woman with the mole on her cheek, plus the old weeping palm tree, just as was described. He also saw the informer herself, clothed in rags, teeth missing. She waved Qen over, with a smooth and subtle flick of the wrist. Qen came.
"They say he's there, in the upstairs room," the informer said, nodding in the direction of a two-story building across the street. "He was reveling last night, really living it up. If you go now you might still catch him while he's sleeping." She held out her hands. Qen took a sack of coins from his bag and dropped it in her palm. He paid well for information, and information like this was precious. The pirate prince known as Lukos the Greek was infamous on both sides of the sea, a raider and a slaver. There were many bounties on his head, but Qen was only interested in one: the one who paid the most. He had been tracking Lukos for weeks, following whispers up and down the Nile, and he only half-expected to actually find credible clues. The gods had smiled upon him, and now he was closing in on his prey. Hopefully the gods would continue to smile upon him and let him collect this bounty.
"It smells like fish," Mahu observed, wrinkling his nose.
"Stop complaining." He pointed to a spot nearby. "Wait here."
He entered the building and found the ground floor a dimly-lit den of men and women at rest, lost in a cloud of smoke. There was the potent smell of herbs and woods being burned. Wordlessly, he prowled through the den, across splayed legs and snoring bodies. He was halfway up the stairs when he saw a sudden movement. Just for an instant he caught glimpse of a tall white man with wild brown hair passing on the flight above. He bounded up the stairs but he moved too slow. He saw the tips of the wild brown hair disappear over a balcony and then heard the sound of a man colliding with stone. But in a flash the figure was up and running again. Qen did his best to keep up, but soon found himself falling behind.
Suddenly he saw the face of his son looking at him. "Father! That way!" Qen ran around the corner, following Mahu's directions. With every stride he could feel the muscles in his legs burning and the pace of his heart getting faster. He tried to imagine everything that the money from this bounty could buy him, how it could feed them, prepare them for Qen's larger mission of revenge.
Qen of Sais had arrived in Cairo by ship, traveling up the Nile with his son, Mahu. He had called in some favors and arranged a quick journey, and the ship captain said nothing both when he picked up and dropped off Qen at the docks. Father and son did not travel far. There was a small gathering-place not far from where the boats loaded and unloaded their various cargo, for those throats too thirsty to wait for better options further in the city. This was where he had made plans to meet his informant. He was somewhat relieved when he saw the old woman with the mole on her cheek, plus the old weeping palm tree, just as was described. He also saw the informer herself, clothed in rags, teeth missing. She waved Qen over, with a smooth and subtle flick of the wrist. Qen came.
"They say he's there, in the upstairs room," the informer said, nodding in the direction of a two-story building across the street. "He was reveling last night, really living it up. If you go now you might still catch him while he's sleeping." She held out her hands. Qen took a sack of coins from his bag and dropped it in her palm. He paid well for information, and information like this was precious. The pirate prince known as Lukos the Greek was infamous on both sides of the sea, a raider and a slaver. There were many bounties on his head, but Qen was only interested in one: the one who paid the most. He had been tracking Lukos for weeks, following whispers up and down the Nile, and he only half-expected to actually find credible clues. The gods had smiled upon him, and now he was closing in on his prey. Hopefully the gods would continue to smile upon him and let him collect this bounty.
"It smells like fish," Mahu observed, wrinkling his nose.
"Stop complaining." He pointed to a spot nearby. "Wait here."
He entered the building and found the ground floor a dimly-lit den of men and women at rest, lost in a cloud of smoke. There was the potent smell of herbs and woods being burned. Wordlessly, he prowled through the den, across splayed legs and snoring bodies. He was halfway up the stairs when he saw a sudden movement. Just for an instant he caught glimpse of a tall white man with wild brown hair passing on the flight above. He bounded up the stairs but he moved too slow. He saw the tips of the wild brown hair disappear over a balcony and then heard the sound of a man colliding with stone. But in a flash the figure was up and running again. Qen did his best to keep up, but soon found himself falling behind.
Suddenly he saw the face of his son looking at him. "Father! That way!" Qen ran around the corner, following Mahu's directions. With every stride he could feel the muscles in his legs burning and the pace of his heart getting faster. He tried to imagine everything that the money from this bounty could buy him, how it could feed them, prepare them for Qen's larger mission of revenge.
The night had gotten away from him. With all their slaves offloaded and sold, Lukos had taken a portion of his earnings for the night and had gone with several members of his crew to gamble and drink the night into oblivion. After a while, he’d found himself buried between the legs of a woman whose name he couldn’t remember and didn’t care to ask for again. By morning, he had a raging hangover. Because he’d paid for the entirety of her time, the whore he’d taken to bed was still sleeping beside him.
He sat up and rubbed his face with the heels of his hands, trying to blink himself awake. Even this early, the air in the room was hot. The whole place smelled like herbs and burnt wood from the incense downstairs. The whore stirred when the blankets slid off her, exposing her bare back. Wishing to avoid speaking to her, or to avoid getting talked into parting with more coin, he cast about the floor for his clothes.
As he fought with the legs of his pants, he glanced out the open window in time to catch sight of a man speaking to an ugly, familiar old woman. Narrowing his dark eyes, he shifted closer to the window and watched, waiting for the man to turn around. Once he did, Lukos exhaled sharply with a “Shit.” Tightening his jaw, he shook his head and pulled his shirt on. In almost the same motion, he shoved his feet into his boots but he could hear the door to the establishment close downstairs.
He was out of time.
The whore groaned and turned onto her side, watching him with glittering dark eyes as he went from window to window, trying to figure out the best way down.
“Worried about something?” she asked in coptic.
“Your fucking madame sold me out,” he snapped and recieved only a careless laugh from the woman.
“She sent word the second you walked in the door.” The whore sat up fully, not bothering to cover herself with the sheet. A smile played about her mouth. It was very amusing to watch this Greek man prowl about, obviously fucked literally and figuratively. He eyed her when she asked if he was going to come back.
“Of course. Probably in a month.”
“See you then,” she gave him a wave. “If you jump off the balcony at the end of the hall, you might be able to lose him in the market.”
Lukos smirked and flicked her a coin, which she easily caught. Her little wave with just her fingers was the last thing he saw as he exited the room. A creak in the stairs sent him running. He didn’t know this man hunting him by name, but they’d had a few brushes in the past. One thing could be said of Qen; he was fucking persistent.
At the sound of footsteps pounding behind him, Lukos took the whore’s promise of freedom on faith alone. He did not look back and he did not stop. The balcony’s railing came up and he vaulted over it, rolling once he hit the ground below. Pain exploded across his shoulders but he didn’t dare indulge it. Instead, he glanced up to see Qen there. That was enough to get him moving.
A child shouted somewhere behind him, betraying his position. What was it with this place? He paid people. Why were they so intent on handing him over? Might just have to break his promise of coming back to that whore. This place was proving a bit dangerous to his health. Whipping around a corner, Lukos slammed into a man with a basket of fruit on his head. Both men sprawled. Fruit rolled and Lukos snatched the basket, flinging it behind him.
He took off, shoving bodily through the crowd. With his brown pants and dark red shirt, he stuck out horrendously well amid the sea of white linen clad people. That would need to change. Passing stall after stall, he tried to keep an eye out for cloth. Finally he found something and snatched it as he dashed by, nothing more than a dark blur. Darting into a narrow alley, he leaned against the stone wall and shook out the fabric to have a look.
“Fucking fantastic,” he mumbled. A dress. Ah well. He shouldered into it. The thing was tight. His shoulders were broad and this was designed for a completely different body. Still. It was white. Not waiting to find out how close Qen was, he took off towards the lit end of the other side and barrelled into the crowd.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The night had gotten away from him. With all their slaves offloaded and sold, Lukos had taken a portion of his earnings for the night and had gone with several members of his crew to gamble and drink the night into oblivion. After a while, he’d found himself buried between the legs of a woman whose name he couldn’t remember and didn’t care to ask for again. By morning, he had a raging hangover. Because he’d paid for the entirety of her time, the whore he’d taken to bed was still sleeping beside him.
He sat up and rubbed his face with the heels of his hands, trying to blink himself awake. Even this early, the air in the room was hot. The whole place smelled like herbs and burnt wood from the incense downstairs. The whore stirred when the blankets slid off her, exposing her bare back. Wishing to avoid speaking to her, or to avoid getting talked into parting with more coin, he cast about the floor for his clothes.
As he fought with the legs of his pants, he glanced out the open window in time to catch sight of a man speaking to an ugly, familiar old woman. Narrowing his dark eyes, he shifted closer to the window and watched, waiting for the man to turn around. Once he did, Lukos exhaled sharply with a “Shit.” Tightening his jaw, he shook his head and pulled his shirt on. In almost the same motion, he shoved his feet into his boots but he could hear the door to the establishment close downstairs.
He was out of time.
The whore groaned and turned onto her side, watching him with glittering dark eyes as he went from window to window, trying to figure out the best way down.
“Worried about something?” she asked in coptic.
“Your fucking madame sold me out,” he snapped and recieved only a careless laugh from the woman.
“She sent word the second you walked in the door.” The whore sat up fully, not bothering to cover herself with the sheet. A smile played about her mouth. It was very amusing to watch this Greek man prowl about, obviously fucked literally and figuratively. He eyed her when she asked if he was going to come back.
“Of course. Probably in a month.”
“See you then,” she gave him a wave. “If you jump off the balcony at the end of the hall, you might be able to lose him in the market.”
Lukos smirked and flicked her a coin, which she easily caught. Her little wave with just her fingers was the last thing he saw as he exited the room. A creak in the stairs sent him running. He didn’t know this man hunting him by name, but they’d had a few brushes in the past. One thing could be said of Qen; he was fucking persistent.
At the sound of footsteps pounding behind him, Lukos took the whore’s promise of freedom on faith alone. He did not look back and he did not stop. The balcony’s railing came up and he vaulted over it, rolling once he hit the ground below. Pain exploded across his shoulders but he didn’t dare indulge it. Instead, he glanced up to see Qen there. That was enough to get him moving.
A child shouted somewhere behind him, betraying his position. What was it with this place? He paid people. Why were they so intent on handing him over? Might just have to break his promise of coming back to that whore. This place was proving a bit dangerous to his health. Whipping around a corner, Lukos slammed into a man with a basket of fruit on his head. Both men sprawled. Fruit rolled and Lukos snatched the basket, flinging it behind him.
He took off, shoving bodily through the crowd. With his brown pants and dark red shirt, he stuck out horrendously well amid the sea of white linen clad people. That would need to change. Passing stall after stall, he tried to keep an eye out for cloth. Finally he found something and snatched it as he dashed by, nothing more than a dark blur. Darting into a narrow alley, he leaned against the stone wall and shook out the fabric to have a look.
“Fucking fantastic,” he mumbled. A dress. Ah well. He shouldered into it. The thing was tight. His shoulders were broad and this was designed for a completely different body. Still. It was white. Not waiting to find out how close Qen was, he took off towards the lit end of the other side and barrelled into the crowd.
The night had gotten away from him. With all their slaves offloaded and sold, Lukos had taken a portion of his earnings for the night and had gone with several members of his crew to gamble and drink the night into oblivion. After a while, he’d found himself buried between the legs of a woman whose name he couldn’t remember and didn’t care to ask for again. By morning, he had a raging hangover. Because he’d paid for the entirety of her time, the whore he’d taken to bed was still sleeping beside him.
He sat up and rubbed his face with the heels of his hands, trying to blink himself awake. Even this early, the air in the room was hot. The whole place smelled like herbs and burnt wood from the incense downstairs. The whore stirred when the blankets slid off her, exposing her bare back. Wishing to avoid speaking to her, or to avoid getting talked into parting with more coin, he cast about the floor for his clothes.
As he fought with the legs of his pants, he glanced out the open window in time to catch sight of a man speaking to an ugly, familiar old woman. Narrowing his dark eyes, he shifted closer to the window and watched, waiting for the man to turn around. Once he did, Lukos exhaled sharply with a “Shit.” Tightening his jaw, he shook his head and pulled his shirt on. In almost the same motion, he shoved his feet into his boots but he could hear the door to the establishment close downstairs.
He was out of time.
The whore groaned and turned onto her side, watching him with glittering dark eyes as he went from window to window, trying to figure out the best way down.
“Worried about something?” she asked in coptic.
“Your fucking madame sold me out,” he snapped and recieved only a careless laugh from the woman.
“She sent word the second you walked in the door.” The whore sat up fully, not bothering to cover herself with the sheet. A smile played about her mouth. It was very amusing to watch this Greek man prowl about, obviously fucked literally and figuratively. He eyed her when she asked if he was going to come back.
“Of course. Probably in a month.”
“See you then,” she gave him a wave. “If you jump off the balcony at the end of the hall, you might be able to lose him in the market.”
Lukos smirked and flicked her a coin, which she easily caught. Her little wave with just her fingers was the last thing he saw as he exited the room. A creak in the stairs sent him running. He didn’t know this man hunting him by name, but they’d had a few brushes in the past. One thing could be said of Qen; he was fucking persistent.
At the sound of footsteps pounding behind him, Lukos took the whore’s promise of freedom on faith alone. He did not look back and he did not stop. The balcony’s railing came up and he vaulted over it, rolling once he hit the ground below. Pain exploded across his shoulders but he didn’t dare indulge it. Instead, he glanced up to see Qen there. That was enough to get him moving.
A child shouted somewhere behind him, betraying his position. What was it with this place? He paid people. Why were they so intent on handing him over? Might just have to break his promise of coming back to that whore. This place was proving a bit dangerous to his health. Whipping around a corner, Lukos slammed into a man with a basket of fruit on his head. Both men sprawled. Fruit rolled and Lukos snatched the basket, flinging it behind him.
He took off, shoving bodily through the crowd. With his brown pants and dark red shirt, he stuck out horrendously well amid the sea of white linen clad people. That would need to change. Passing stall after stall, he tried to keep an eye out for cloth. Finally he found something and snatched it as he dashed by, nothing more than a dark blur. Darting into a narrow alley, he leaned against the stone wall and shook out the fabric to have a look.
“Fucking fantastic,” he mumbled. A dress. Ah well. He shouldered into it. The thing was tight. His shoulders were broad and this was designed for a completely different body. Still. It was white. Not waiting to find out how close Qen was, he took off towards the lit end of the other side and barrelled into the crowd.
Qen had ridden too many miles, crossed too many sand dunes to let his prize get away. With Mahu following behind him, as fast as his young legs could carry him, the bounty hunter sped through the alleyways and avenues. He had some luck tracking Luos at first, spying his scarlet shirt easily enough in the mobs of flesh dressed in plain Egyptian cotton. Suddenly, the pirate disappeared. At first, when he looked around, Qen did not panic, but when a few moments passed and Lukos could not be found again, he became worried. He began walking into the paths of strangers just to inspect their faces. None of the men he examined, however, looked anything like the Greek that he was after.
“Father! Over here!” Mahu’s voice was familiar as it was piercing. Several heads turned around, but Qen did more than that: he sprinted into another throng of people, gathering outside a market that had just received a fresh load of produce. He had just elbowed his way past a squad of smelly boys when he was almost flattened by two women carrying a huge basket of sliced meats. Quick on his feet, Qen dodged and then slid on his heels into an almost-cleared corridor. He could see Mahu waving him on, telling him something he could hear over the din, a million conversations and negotiations happening around him. Soon, though, he saw a strange sight: a white man dressed in a white dress, pushing his way through a horde of poor Egyptians.
“Stop that man!” Qen shouted in Egyptian. He hoped that his countrymen would feel some kinship with him and stop the foreigner. They might have done, but the dress made them hesitate in recognizing that the “woman” blowing past them was, in fact, a man. Qen cursed and tried to run harder, faster, but the muscles in his legs were already burning, hurting him. He could feel himself struggling for air, and soon he was bent over, gasping for air, wheezing. He looked up just in time to see Mahu bound off a rooftop and land on Lukos’ shoulders, knocking man and boy into a pile of hay.
Still filling his lungs, Qen walked quickly over to where Mahu and Lukos had fallen. They were totally covered. “Mahu!” he called, hoping the boy would show himself. Instead, a fist came flying upward, landing hard on Qen’s chin. It wasn’t the hardest he’d ever been hit, but it was enough to knock him backwards on his bottom. In a flash Lukos was up and climbing a ladder, set to vanish again. Qen cursed again and stood up.
The gods must have smiled on Qen that day because one of the rungs in the ladder snapped just as Lukos placed his foot upon it. Qen was directly underneath him, and so Lukos’ bottom connected directly with the crown of Qen’s head. They fell, Lukos back into the hay, Qen onto hard dirt. Now Mahu was the only one standing, albeit confused.
“Stop!” A deep and unfamiliar voice rang out. Qen peered over and saw three men standing over them, dressed in the uniforms of the city watch. Two of the men, muscular and intimidating, carried swords and shields. The third, presumably their officer, had his hands upon his hips. “You’re disturbing the peace. Tell us what’s going on at once!”
Qen’s head hurt. He looked over at Lukos and then at Mahu.
The boy smiled weakly. “A thousand pardons, neb. My father was only trying to defend the honor of Egypt against this Greek dog. They had too much to drink.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” the officer said skeptically. He drilled his bushy black eyebrows together and pointed a finger at Lukos. “You, Greek. Tell me what is going on here!”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Qen had ridden too many miles, crossed too many sand dunes to let his prize get away. With Mahu following behind him, as fast as his young legs could carry him, the bounty hunter sped through the alleyways and avenues. He had some luck tracking Luos at first, spying his scarlet shirt easily enough in the mobs of flesh dressed in plain Egyptian cotton. Suddenly, the pirate disappeared. At first, when he looked around, Qen did not panic, but when a few moments passed and Lukos could not be found again, he became worried. He began walking into the paths of strangers just to inspect their faces. None of the men he examined, however, looked anything like the Greek that he was after.
“Father! Over here!” Mahu’s voice was familiar as it was piercing. Several heads turned around, but Qen did more than that: he sprinted into another throng of people, gathering outside a market that had just received a fresh load of produce. He had just elbowed his way past a squad of smelly boys when he was almost flattened by two women carrying a huge basket of sliced meats. Quick on his feet, Qen dodged and then slid on his heels into an almost-cleared corridor. He could see Mahu waving him on, telling him something he could hear over the din, a million conversations and negotiations happening around him. Soon, though, he saw a strange sight: a white man dressed in a white dress, pushing his way through a horde of poor Egyptians.
“Stop that man!” Qen shouted in Egyptian. He hoped that his countrymen would feel some kinship with him and stop the foreigner. They might have done, but the dress made them hesitate in recognizing that the “woman” blowing past them was, in fact, a man. Qen cursed and tried to run harder, faster, but the muscles in his legs were already burning, hurting him. He could feel himself struggling for air, and soon he was bent over, gasping for air, wheezing. He looked up just in time to see Mahu bound off a rooftop and land on Lukos’ shoulders, knocking man and boy into a pile of hay.
Still filling his lungs, Qen walked quickly over to where Mahu and Lukos had fallen. They were totally covered. “Mahu!” he called, hoping the boy would show himself. Instead, a fist came flying upward, landing hard on Qen’s chin. It wasn’t the hardest he’d ever been hit, but it was enough to knock him backwards on his bottom. In a flash Lukos was up and climbing a ladder, set to vanish again. Qen cursed again and stood up.
The gods must have smiled on Qen that day because one of the rungs in the ladder snapped just as Lukos placed his foot upon it. Qen was directly underneath him, and so Lukos’ bottom connected directly with the crown of Qen’s head. They fell, Lukos back into the hay, Qen onto hard dirt. Now Mahu was the only one standing, albeit confused.
“Stop!” A deep and unfamiliar voice rang out. Qen peered over and saw three men standing over them, dressed in the uniforms of the city watch. Two of the men, muscular and intimidating, carried swords and shields. The third, presumably their officer, had his hands upon his hips. “You’re disturbing the peace. Tell us what’s going on at once!”
Qen’s head hurt. He looked over at Lukos and then at Mahu.
The boy smiled weakly. “A thousand pardons, neb. My father was only trying to defend the honor of Egypt against this Greek dog. They had too much to drink.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” the officer said skeptically. He drilled his bushy black eyebrows together and pointed a finger at Lukos. “You, Greek. Tell me what is going on here!”
Qen had ridden too many miles, crossed too many sand dunes to let his prize get away. With Mahu following behind him, as fast as his young legs could carry him, the bounty hunter sped through the alleyways and avenues. He had some luck tracking Luos at first, spying his scarlet shirt easily enough in the mobs of flesh dressed in plain Egyptian cotton. Suddenly, the pirate disappeared. At first, when he looked around, Qen did not panic, but when a few moments passed and Lukos could not be found again, he became worried. He began walking into the paths of strangers just to inspect their faces. None of the men he examined, however, looked anything like the Greek that he was after.
“Father! Over here!” Mahu’s voice was familiar as it was piercing. Several heads turned around, but Qen did more than that: he sprinted into another throng of people, gathering outside a market that had just received a fresh load of produce. He had just elbowed his way past a squad of smelly boys when he was almost flattened by two women carrying a huge basket of sliced meats. Quick on his feet, Qen dodged and then slid on his heels into an almost-cleared corridor. He could see Mahu waving him on, telling him something he could hear over the din, a million conversations and negotiations happening around him. Soon, though, he saw a strange sight: a white man dressed in a white dress, pushing his way through a horde of poor Egyptians.
“Stop that man!” Qen shouted in Egyptian. He hoped that his countrymen would feel some kinship with him and stop the foreigner. They might have done, but the dress made them hesitate in recognizing that the “woman” blowing past them was, in fact, a man. Qen cursed and tried to run harder, faster, but the muscles in his legs were already burning, hurting him. He could feel himself struggling for air, and soon he was bent over, gasping for air, wheezing. He looked up just in time to see Mahu bound off a rooftop and land on Lukos’ shoulders, knocking man and boy into a pile of hay.
Still filling his lungs, Qen walked quickly over to where Mahu and Lukos had fallen. They were totally covered. “Mahu!” he called, hoping the boy would show himself. Instead, a fist came flying upward, landing hard on Qen’s chin. It wasn’t the hardest he’d ever been hit, but it was enough to knock him backwards on his bottom. In a flash Lukos was up and climbing a ladder, set to vanish again. Qen cursed again and stood up.
The gods must have smiled on Qen that day because one of the rungs in the ladder snapped just as Lukos placed his foot upon it. Qen was directly underneath him, and so Lukos’ bottom connected directly with the crown of Qen’s head. They fell, Lukos back into the hay, Qen onto hard dirt. Now Mahu was the only one standing, albeit confused.
“Stop!” A deep and unfamiliar voice rang out. Qen peered over and saw three men standing over them, dressed in the uniforms of the city watch. Two of the men, muscular and intimidating, carried swords and shields. The third, presumably their officer, had his hands upon his hips. “You’re disturbing the peace. Tell us what’s going on at once!”
Qen’s head hurt. He looked over at Lukos and then at Mahu.
The boy smiled weakly. “A thousand pardons, neb. My father was only trying to defend the honor of Egypt against this Greek dog. They had too much to drink.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” the officer said skeptically. He drilled his bushy black eyebrows together and pointed a finger at Lukos. “You, Greek. Tell me what is going on here!”
He dashed out of the alleyway, grinning to himself, and reveling that his idiot idea of the dress had actually worked, when the sky fell and he found himself pitching sideways into the back of a hay wagon. The confusion of limbs and bodies and hay was wild. At first he thought there was some kind of obese cat that had landed on him, since the boy had scratched nails down both sides of his face, but once he was able to open his eyes, he saw he was wrestling against a particularly vicious child.
“Fuck you!” Lukos snarled in Greek, shoving the boy hard so that his little adversary’s body was completely hidden by the mountain of hay in this wagon. At that moment, he heard a man’s voice shouting in concern for someone named Mahu, which he could only assume was his assailant, and therefore, the boy’s father. Which meant - this was the bounty hunter.
Immediately Lukos shot out his fist, catching the other man off guard. It was just enough to give him time to dart from the wagon. Without real thought, Lukos went from wagon to the wall immediately facing it, instead of to the left or the right. Both ways were clogged by crowds and the ladder offered the only true ‘out’ that was completely clear. It would lead to the roofs of the buildings but that was fine. The Egyptians helpfully built their houses with flat roofs that had narrow allies between so that he could jump from house to house to house if he was quick and nimble enough - which he was. An entire life on a moving, rocking, rolling ship had prepared him for just such an exercise in acrobatic skill.
Like a cat, he sprang at the ladder, dashing up it with practised ease. He was nearly to the top when the rung bearing his weight snapped. Gravity took hold and before he could quite catch himself, he plummeted down, straight onto Qen. He didn’t even have time to yell out before the two of them hit ground, though Lukos’s landing was a bit softer, back into the hay. His eyes snapped open and the cerulean blue sky he should have been looking into was marred by the ugly dark face of a guard.
His eyes then traveled from the guard to another two, one of whom looked like a captain. At last he registered what the man was saying and he glanced at Qen, wondering if the man was going to rat him out. However, it was the boy who spoke first. Lukos pursed his lips at what the boy was saying. Drunk? Him? This early?
The captain then pointed to him, demanding an explanation. “I…” he began in heavily accented koptic. “We…” he glanced at Qen again. He was willing to bet that the man wasn’t going to turn him into these three. How would Qen be paid for his bounty if the bounty was rotting in a prison cell? “A petty dispute,” he said. “My friend and I are very sorry. We’ll cause no more trouble…”
That done, he and Qen parted and went their separate ways.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He dashed out of the alleyway, grinning to himself, and reveling that his idiot idea of the dress had actually worked, when the sky fell and he found himself pitching sideways into the back of a hay wagon. The confusion of limbs and bodies and hay was wild. At first he thought there was some kind of obese cat that had landed on him, since the boy had scratched nails down both sides of his face, but once he was able to open his eyes, he saw he was wrestling against a particularly vicious child.
“Fuck you!” Lukos snarled in Greek, shoving the boy hard so that his little adversary’s body was completely hidden by the mountain of hay in this wagon. At that moment, he heard a man’s voice shouting in concern for someone named Mahu, which he could only assume was his assailant, and therefore, the boy’s father. Which meant - this was the bounty hunter.
Immediately Lukos shot out his fist, catching the other man off guard. It was just enough to give him time to dart from the wagon. Without real thought, Lukos went from wagon to the wall immediately facing it, instead of to the left or the right. Both ways were clogged by crowds and the ladder offered the only true ‘out’ that was completely clear. It would lead to the roofs of the buildings but that was fine. The Egyptians helpfully built their houses with flat roofs that had narrow allies between so that he could jump from house to house to house if he was quick and nimble enough - which he was. An entire life on a moving, rocking, rolling ship had prepared him for just such an exercise in acrobatic skill.
Like a cat, he sprang at the ladder, dashing up it with practised ease. He was nearly to the top when the rung bearing his weight snapped. Gravity took hold and before he could quite catch himself, he plummeted down, straight onto Qen. He didn’t even have time to yell out before the two of them hit ground, though Lukos’s landing was a bit softer, back into the hay. His eyes snapped open and the cerulean blue sky he should have been looking into was marred by the ugly dark face of a guard.
His eyes then traveled from the guard to another two, one of whom looked like a captain. At last he registered what the man was saying and he glanced at Qen, wondering if the man was going to rat him out. However, it was the boy who spoke first. Lukos pursed his lips at what the boy was saying. Drunk? Him? This early?
The captain then pointed to him, demanding an explanation. “I…” he began in heavily accented koptic. “We…” he glanced at Qen again. He was willing to bet that the man wasn’t going to turn him into these three. How would Qen be paid for his bounty if the bounty was rotting in a prison cell? “A petty dispute,” he said. “My friend and I are very sorry. We’ll cause no more trouble…”
That done, he and Qen parted and went their separate ways.
He dashed out of the alleyway, grinning to himself, and reveling that his idiot idea of the dress had actually worked, when the sky fell and he found himself pitching sideways into the back of a hay wagon. The confusion of limbs and bodies and hay was wild. At first he thought there was some kind of obese cat that had landed on him, since the boy had scratched nails down both sides of his face, but once he was able to open his eyes, he saw he was wrestling against a particularly vicious child.
“Fuck you!” Lukos snarled in Greek, shoving the boy hard so that his little adversary’s body was completely hidden by the mountain of hay in this wagon. At that moment, he heard a man’s voice shouting in concern for someone named Mahu, which he could only assume was his assailant, and therefore, the boy’s father. Which meant - this was the bounty hunter.
Immediately Lukos shot out his fist, catching the other man off guard. It was just enough to give him time to dart from the wagon. Without real thought, Lukos went from wagon to the wall immediately facing it, instead of to the left or the right. Both ways were clogged by crowds and the ladder offered the only true ‘out’ that was completely clear. It would lead to the roofs of the buildings but that was fine. The Egyptians helpfully built their houses with flat roofs that had narrow allies between so that he could jump from house to house to house if he was quick and nimble enough - which he was. An entire life on a moving, rocking, rolling ship had prepared him for just such an exercise in acrobatic skill.
Like a cat, he sprang at the ladder, dashing up it with practised ease. He was nearly to the top when the rung bearing his weight snapped. Gravity took hold and before he could quite catch himself, he plummeted down, straight onto Qen. He didn’t even have time to yell out before the two of them hit ground, though Lukos’s landing was a bit softer, back into the hay. His eyes snapped open and the cerulean blue sky he should have been looking into was marred by the ugly dark face of a guard.
His eyes then traveled from the guard to another two, one of whom looked like a captain. At last he registered what the man was saying and he glanced at Qen, wondering if the man was going to rat him out. However, it was the boy who spoke first. Lukos pursed his lips at what the boy was saying. Drunk? Him? This early?
The captain then pointed to him, demanding an explanation. “I…” he began in heavily accented koptic. “We…” he glanced at Qen again. He was willing to bet that the man wasn’t going to turn him into these three. How would Qen be paid for his bounty if the bounty was rotting in a prison cell? “A petty dispute,” he said. “My friend and I are very sorry. We’ll cause no more trouble…”
That done, he and Qen parted and went their separate ways.