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He was a long way from home, but unlike others, young twenty year old Narmer H'Haikaddad had no misgivings about missing home. Having lost his closest parental figure just seven years ago, while many say that seven years is a long time to come to terms with such a fact, Narmer was still struggling with it. Narutt had been his father as much as he had been his older brother. With his wife, Narutt had brought young Narmer up as he would one's own child, especially with the age gap between them, and Narmer idolized his brother. His passing had hit him hard, harder then anyone could imagine, and the young thirteen year old had done what he could only think of then, a way to escape the memories - he had went off on his own.
Leaving the Hei in the hands of his sister-in-law, Narmer had cited the need to learn and grow into being a proper Head, before striking off on his own. Visiting various parts of Egypt, as well as taking up training sessions with the Hei's that were of better terms with his own, Narmer told any who asked, that the reason behind him doing this was so he would not shame his family name, nor his brother and father's memory.
But he knew the truth. He was weak, both mentally and physically.
Of course, the physical part could be easily remedied, and after the many years spent travelling, training, fighting bandits and undertaking minor skirmishes with other campaigns, Narmer could not longer be called physically weak. The male's bronzed skin hid sculpted muscle, and while he may not have the imposing height of many of his cohorts and peers, he had the look of nobility one would not be able to miss from a single glance.
His visit to the Moghadam Hei had first happened a few months ago, when he had eventually made the round back towards where Rofah was situated. Part of Moghadam lands bordered his own family's, and as such and for as long as he remembered, Narmer had been told by both his father and brother that the alliance with the Moghadam family was not to be shaken. While the family was strongly male dominated (quite unlike the Haikaddad's now, who seemed to have more females for now), they were also a family of history in Egypt, and Narmer knew better then to anger them.
So he had came seeking guidance. His reasoning was that he needed the last burst of improvement before he finally returned home to his Hei, and it was to Narmer's relief that he was allowed to train with the Harakat of the Moghadam family. The daily sparring sessions delighted him, for the bronzed skin male enjoyed pushing his physical limits, in a way that he could not when it came to his mental strength. He found it easy to get sucked into his mind playing tricks on him, two voices in his head at the same time, each pulling him in either directions. It was only when he was bone weary that the voices stopped.
By the time the sun dipped lower, Narmer found his two knees scraped and on the ground, staring at the tip of sword, obviously in a position of defeat. His mace dropped from his grip with a loud clatter of steel against stone, and Narmer wore a wry smile as he held his hands up in a position of defeat, awaiting for his opponent to withdraw his weapon. "I have plenty to learn yet, it seems." Narmer conceded, the rest of the Moghadam Harakat cheering at the loss of the Haikaddad Head to one of their own. Not that Narmer took the loss seriously. While he enjoyed a fight, he was not one with a competitive streak, and was realistic enough to know when he was outmatched in skill.
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He was a long way from home, but unlike others, young twenty year old Narmer H'Haikaddad had no misgivings about missing home. Having lost his closest parental figure just seven years ago, while many say that seven years is a long time to come to terms with such a fact, Narmer was still struggling with it. Narutt had been his father as much as he had been his older brother. With his wife, Narutt had brought young Narmer up as he would one's own child, especially with the age gap between them, and Narmer idolized his brother. His passing had hit him hard, harder then anyone could imagine, and the young thirteen year old had done what he could only think of then, a way to escape the memories - he had went off on his own.
Leaving the Hei in the hands of his sister-in-law, Narmer had cited the need to learn and grow into being a proper Head, before striking off on his own. Visiting various parts of Egypt, as well as taking up training sessions with the Hei's that were of better terms with his own, Narmer told any who asked, that the reason behind him doing this was so he would not shame his family name, nor his brother and father's memory.
But he knew the truth. He was weak, both mentally and physically.
Of course, the physical part could be easily remedied, and after the many years spent travelling, training, fighting bandits and undertaking minor skirmishes with other campaigns, Narmer could not longer be called physically weak. The male's bronzed skin hid sculpted muscle, and while he may not have the imposing height of many of his cohorts and peers, he had the look of nobility one would not be able to miss from a single glance.
His visit to the Moghadam Hei had first happened a few months ago, when he had eventually made the round back towards where Rofah was situated. Part of Moghadam lands bordered his own family's, and as such and for as long as he remembered, Narmer had been told by both his father and brother that the alliance with the Moghadam family was not to be shaken. While the family was strongly male dominated (quite unlike the Haikaddad's now, who seemed to have more females for now), they were also a family of history in Egypt, and Narmer knew better then to anger them.
So he had came seeking guidance. His reasoning was that he needed the last burst of improvement before he finally returned home to his Hei, and it was to Narmer's relief that he was allowed to train with the Harakat of the Moghadam family. The daily sparring sessions delighted him, for the bronzed skin male enjoyed pushing his physical limits, in a way that he could not when it came to his mental strength. He found it easy to get sucked into his mind playing tricks on him, two voices in his head at the same time, each pulling him in either directions. It was only when he was bone weary that the voices stopped.
By the time the sun dipped lower, Narmer found his two knees scraped and on the ground, staring at the tip of sword, obviously in a position of defeat. His mace dropped from his grip with a loud clatter of steel against stone, and Narmer wore a wry smile as he held his hands up in a position of defeat, awaiting for his opponent to withdraw his weapon. "I have plenty to learn yet, it seems." Narmer conceded, the rest of the Moghadam Harakat cheering at the loss of the Haikaddad Head to one of their own. Not that Narmer took the loss seriously. While he enjoyed a fight, he was not one with a competitive streak, and was realistic enough to know when he was outmatched in skill.
He was a long way from home, but unlike others, young twenty year old Narmer H'Haikaddad had no misgivings about missing home. Having lost his closest parental figure just seven years ago, while many say that seven years is a long time to come to terms with such a fact, Narmer was still struggling with it. Narutt had been his father as much as he had been his older brother. With his wife, Narutt had brought young Narmer up as he would one's own child, especially with the age gap between them, and Narmer idolized his brother. His passing had hit him hard, harder then anyone could imagine, and the young thirteen year old had done what he could only think of then, a way to escape the memories - he had went off on his own.
Leaving the Hei in the hands of his sister-in-law, Narmer had cited the need to learn and grow into being a proper Head, before striking off on his own. Visiting various parts of Egypt, as well as taking up training sessions with the Hei's that were of better terms with his own, Narmer told any who asked, that the reason behind him doing this was so he would not shame his family name, nor his brother and father's memory.
But he knew the truth. He was weak, both mentally and physically.
Of course, the physical part could be easily remedied, and after the many years spent travelling, training, fighting bandits and undertaking minor skirmishes with other campaigns, Narmer could not longer be called physically weak. The male's bronzed skin hid sculpted muscle, and while he may not have the imposing height of many of his cohorts and peers, he had the look of nobility one would not be able to miss from a single glance.
His visit to the Moghadam Hei had first happened a few months ago, when he had eventually made the round back towards where Rofah was situated. Part of Moghadam lands bordered his own family's, and as such and for as long as he remembered, Narmer had been told by both his father and brother that the alliance with the Moghadam family was not to be shaken. While the family was strongly male dominated (quite unlike the Haikaddad's now, who seemed to have more females for now), they were also a family of history in Egypt, and Narmer knew better then to anger them.
So he had came seeking guidance. His reasoning was that he needed the last burst of improvement before he finally returned home to his Hei, and it was to Narmer's relief that he was allowed to train with the Harakat of the Moghadam family. The daily sparring sessions delighted him, for the bronzed skin male enjoyed pushing his physical limits, in a way that he could not when it came to his mental strength. He found it easy to get sucked into his mind playing tricks on him, two voices in his head at the same time, each pulling him in either directions. It was only when he was bone weary that the voices stopped.
By the time the sun dipped lower, Narmer found his two knees scraped and on the ground, staring at the tip of sword, obviously in a position of defeat. His mace dropped from his grip with a loud clatter of steel against stone, and Narmer wore a wry smile as he held his hands up in a position of defeat, awaiting for his opponent to withdraw his weapon. "I have plenty to learn yet, it seems." Narmer conceded, the rest of the Moghadam Harakat cheering at the loss of the Haikaddad Head to one of their own. Not that Narmer took the loss seriously. While he enjoyed a fight, he was not one with a competitive streak, and was realistic enough to know when he was outmatched in skill.
Osorsen was no stranger to battle. Ever since his fifteenth year he had been marching to fight with his generals, under the tutelage of his grandfather he had grown strong and cunning enough to gain something of a reputation. The head of Haikadaid’s arrival had raised some brows but as his grandfather had said, some blew on the wind through the desert before they knew what they sought. It was an odd choice, leaving the Hei in the hands of a woman, but when Narmer had arrived he had been welcomed warmly and now sparring and training with the younger man was an enjoyable part of his day.
With the elder Osorsen watching with his sharp eye from above, the younger fought with his friend, using weapons dulled for practice so as not to cause any actual harm. It was a final swift move as the sun sank behind them that brought his sword to Narmer’s chest as the other man dropped his weapon in defeat. Grinning with pride and covered in sweat from the heat of the day and their bout, Oso was in a state of contented victory. His body and mind properly worked and exhausted as he reached out to help his friend to his feet.
”More practice will come with the dawning, young Narmer.”
The cheers of the men were subdued into a respectful silence as the elder Moghadam lifted a hand and spoke, the general aged but still greatly adored by the people who served him. Oso gave a nod and a bow of his head as his grandfather moved to return to the house, sleeping and rising with the sun while he himself had energy left to give. Turning to Narmer, he clapped his shoulder to draw him out of the field, the night was young and the men around them were going into the city for a drink.
”Come, if we clean ourselves up we may well be presentable enough for a drink.”
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Osorsen was no stranger to battle. Ever since his fifteenth year he had been marching to fight with his generals, under the tutelage of his grandfather he had grown strong and cunning enough to gain something of a reputation. The head of Haikadaid’s arrival had raised some brows but as his grandfather had said, some blew on the wind through the desert before they knew what they sought. It was an odd choice, leaving the Hei in the hands of a woman, but when Narmer had arrived he had been welcomed warmly and now sparring and training with the younger man was an enjoyable part of his day.
With the elder Osorsen watching with his sharp eye from above, the younger fought with his friend, using weapons dulled for practice so as not to cause any actual harm. It was a final swift move as the sun sank behind them that brought his sword to Narmer’s chest as the other man dropped his weapon in defeat. Grinning with pride and covered in sweat from the heat of the day and their bout, Oso was in a state of contented victory. His body and mind properly worked and exhausted as he reached out to help his friend to his feet.
”More practice will come with the dawning, young Narmer.”
The cheers of the men were subdued into a respectful silence as the elder Moghadam lifted a hand and spoke, the general aged but still greatly adored by the people who served him. Oso gave a nod and a bow of his head as his grandfather moved to return to the house, sleeping and rising with the sun while he himself had energy left to give. Turning to Narmer, he clapped his shoulder to draw him out of the field, the night was young and the men around them were going into the city for a drink.
”Come, if we clean ourselves up we may well be presentable enough for a drink.”
Osorsen was no stranger to battle. Ever since his fifteenth year he had been marching to fight with his generals, under the tutelage of his grandfather he had grown strong and cunning enough to gain something of a reputation. The head of Haikadaid’s arrival had raised some brows but as his grandfather had said, some blew on the wind through the desert before they knew what they sought. It was an odd choice, leaving the Hei in the hands of a woman, but when Narmer had arrived he had been welcomed warmly and now sparring and training with the younger man was an enjoyable part of his day.
With the elder Osorsen watching with his sharp eye from above, the younger fought with his friend, using weapons dulled for practice so as not to cause any actual harm. It was a final swift move as the sun sank behind them that brought his sword to Narmer’s chest as the other man dropped his weapon in defeat. Grinning with pride and covered in sweat from the heat of the day and their bout, Oso was in a state of contented victory. His body and mind properly worked and exhausted as he reached out to help his friend to his feet.
”More practice will come with the dawning, young Narmer.”
The cheers of the men were subdued into a respectful silence as the elder Moghadam lifted a hand and spoke, the general aged but still greatly adored by the people who served him. Oso gave a nod and a bow of his head as his grandfather moved to return to the house, sleeping and rising with the sun while he himself had energy left to give. Turning to Narmer, he clapped his shoulder to draw him out of the field, the night was young and the men around them were going into the city for a drink.
”Come, if we clean ourselves up we may well be presentable enough for a drink.”
He had never wanted the position. Unlike his friend who had been groomed as someone who would eventually ascend as Head of a Hei, perhaps even that slightest chance at being Pharoah, Osorsen far surpassed Narmer in leaps and bounds. But what Narmer did not have in years of training, he made up for with intense hours of studying and checking on himself.
But work can only get one so far.
In battle however, they were on equal grounds. Perhaps not so equal, considering his friend had some leverage with added height, but Narmer was quick on his feet. He had been lucky that the elder Osorsen had not batted an eyelash to admit the Haikaddad Head into the folds of their Harakat if only to train, and the months he had spent in the Hei had been eye opening, both in mock fights and in watching and learning from Osorsen how he handled the position as Head.
Something he never had the chance to do with Narutt.
Looking up when his friend's grandfather spoke, the younger man wore a wry smile as he nodded to signify he had heard the elder male's words. It rang true, and Narmer knew it as such, but it did nothing to dull the slight pang of defeat that he now wore on his face. Rising as his friend clapped im on his shoulder, his wry smile turned into a smirk.
"No amount of water from the Nile would make you presentable." the younger one jibed with a grin that showed he did not mean his words. Parting ways with the male as he moved towards the military bathhouses. Stripping himself clean of the grime soaked, damp clothing, Narmer gave himself a quick shower with the water servants would fetch from the Nile, before donning his simple brown simlah, slipping his feet in beaded sandals and pattering out again. He and his friend would find peace in the taverns, or at least a few hours of good memories, hazy due to the drink afterall.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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He had never wanted the position. Unlike his friend who had been groomed as someone who would eventually ascend as Head of a Hei, perhaps even that slightest chance at being Pharoah, Osorsen far surpassed Narmer in leaps and bounds. But what Narmer did not have in years of training, he made up for with intense hours of studying and checking on himself.
But work can only get one so far.
In battle however, they were on equal grounds. Perhaps not so equal, considering his friend had some leverage with added height, but Narmer was quick on his feet. He had been lucky that the elder Osorsen had not batted an eyelash to admit the Haikaddad Head into the folds of their Harakat if only to train, and the months he had spent in the Hei had been eye opening, both in mock fights and in watching and learning from Osorsen how he handled the position as Head.
Something he never had the chance to do with Narutt.
Looking up when his friend's grandfather spoke, the younger man wore a wry smile as he nodded to signify he had heard the elder male's words. It rang true, and Narmer knew it as such, but it did nothing to dull the slight pang of defeat that he now wore on his face. Rising as his friend clapped im on his shoulder, his wry smile turned into a smirk.
"No amount of water from the Nile would make you presentable." the younger one jibed with a grin that showed he did not mean his words. Parting ways with the male as he moved towards the military bathhouses. Stripping himself clean of the grime soaked, damp clothing, Narmer gave himself a quick shower with the water servants would fetch from the Nile, before donning his simple brown simlah, slipping his feet in beaded sandals and pattering out again. He and his friend would find peace in the taverns, or at least a few hours of good memories, hazy due to the drink afterall.
He had never wanted the position. Unlike his friend who had been groomed as someone who would eventually ascend as Head of a Hei, perhaps even that slightest chance at being Pharoah, Osorsen far surpassed Narmer in leaps and bounds. But what Narmer did not have in years of training, he made up for with intense hours of studying and checking on himself.
But work can only get one so far.
In battle however, they were on equal grounds. Perhaps not so equal, considering his friend had some leverage with added height, but Narmer was quick on his feet. He had been lucky that the elder Osorsen had not batted an eyelash to admit the Haikaddad Head into the folds of their Harakat if only to train, and the months he had spent in the Hei had been eye opening, both in mock fights and in watching and learning from Osorsen how he handled the position as Head.
Something he never had the chance to do with Narutt.
Looking up when his friend's grandfather spoke, the younger man wore a wry smile as he nodded to signify he had heard the elder male's words. It rang true, and Narmer knew it as such, but it did nothing to dull the slight pang of defeat that he now wore on his face. Rising as his friend clapped im on his shoulder, his wry smile turned into a smirk.
"No amount of water from the Nile would make you presentable." the younger one jibed with a grin that showed he did not mean his words. Parting ways with the male as he moved towards the military bathhouses. Stripping himself clean of the grime soaked, damp clothing, Narmer gave himself a quick shower with the water servants would fetch from the Nile, before donning his simple brown simlah, slipping his feet in beaded sandals and pattering out again. He and his friend would find peace in the taverns, or at least a few hours of good memories, hazy due to the drink afterall.
Osorsen didn't verbally respond to his friend's taunt, instead giving him a shove with a grin as he moved past to help his grandfather back into the house. The older man was getting frail, and though he could still move about with little difficulty, it was always better to have someone with him in the event that he fell. It was something the old man protested, and so Oso took up the task himself instead of subjecting him to the indignity of feeling as if he needed a nursemaid again. Only once the elder Osorsen was settled at his supper with the steward and a few others did the younger excuse himself.
A bath was brief to cleanse himself of the dust before he changed and met back up with his men. They were all in high spirits and the general clapped a hand to the younger man's shoulder as they made their way down into the city. It was one of the perks of having the house so close, they could easily walk in and out for debauchery. Asha hadn't put up any sort of fuss with him leaving, not that she had any right to, but she'd seemed content enough to sleep in her own bed for once.
"So then, where to first? Women or drink?"
His stomach growled as if giving an answer, but he simply chuckled and waited for his friend's response. The guest was to be the one to decide their first activity at the very least. Come to think of it, Osorsen didn't know if the Haikaddad cared much for the company of women. He'd not known him to leave and go to a brothel, and none of his servants had seemed particularly preoccupied with him. Narmer was handsome enough, had the power of a Hei behind him, and a promising career if he kept up as he was, so he couldn't imagine it was from lack of trying.
The city bustled around them as the men moved through the crowds, in simple enough garb that few people recognized them aside from men of the H'Moghadam Hei. He preferred it this way, with no one paying overt attention to them, though of course several vendors he'd frequented before knew exactly who he was and the guards that kept close were less than subtle. For the moment he wanted to forget about all of that and simply get lost in the buzz of Thebes.
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Osorsen didn't verbally respond to his friend's taunt, instead giving him a shove with a grin as he moved past to help his grandfather back into the house. The older man was getting frail, and though he could still move about with little difficulty, it was always better to have someone with him in the event that he fell. It was something the old man protested, and so Oso took up the task himself instead of subjecting him to the indignity of feeling as if he needed a nursemaid again. Only once the elder Osorsen was settled at his supper with the steward and a few others did the younger excuse himself.
A bath was brief to cleanse himself of the dust before he changed and met back up with his men. They were all in high spirits and the general clapped a hand to the younger man's shoulder as they made their way down into the city. It was one of the perks of having the house so close, they could easily walk in and out for debauchery. Asha hadn't put up any sort of fuss with him leaving, not that she had any right to, but she'd seemed content enough to sleep in her own bed for once.
"So then, where to first? Women or drink?"
His stomach growled as if giving an answer, but he simply chuckled and waited for his friend's response. The guest was to be the one to decide their first activity at the very least. Come to think of it, Osorsen didn't know if the Haikaddad cared much for the company of women. He'd not known him to leave and go to a brothel, and none of his servants had seemed particularly preoccupied with him. Narmer was handsome enough, had the power of a Hei behind him, and a promising career if he kept up as he was, so he couldn't imagine it was from lack of trying.
The city bustled around them as the men moved through the crowds, in simple enough garb that few people recognized them aside from men of the H'Moghadam Hei. He preferred it this way, with no one paying overt attention to them, though of course several vendors he'd frequented before knew exactly who he was and the guards that kept close were less than subtle. For the moment he wanted to forget about all of that and simply get lost in the buzz of Thebes.
Osorsen didn't verbally respond to his friend's taunt, instead giving him a shove with a grin as he moved past to help his grandfather back into the house. The older man was getting frail, and though he could still move about with little difficulty, it was always better to have someone with him in the event that he fell. It was something the old man protested, and so Oso took up the task himself instead of subjecting him to the indignity of feeling as if he needed a nursemaid again. Only once the elder Osorsen was settled at his supper with the steward and a few others did the younger excuse himself.
A bath was brief to cleanse himself of the dust before he changed and met back up with his men. They were all in high spirits and the general clapped a hand to the younger man's shoulder as they made their way down into the city. It was one of the perks of having the house so close, they could easily walk in and out for debauchery. Asha hadn't put up any sort of fuss with him leaving, not that she had any right to, but she'd seemed content enough to sleep in her own bed for once.
"So then, where to first? Women or drink?"
His stomach growled as if giving an answer, but he simply chuckled and waited for his friend's response. The guest was to be the one to decide their first activity at the very least. Come to think of it, Osorsen didn't know if the Haikaddad cared much for the company of women. He'd not known him to leave and go to a brothel, and none of his servants had seemed particularly preoccupied with him. Narmer was handsome enough, had the power of a Hei behind him, and a promising career if he kept up as he was, so he couldn't imagine it was from lack of trying.
The city bustled around them as the men moved through the crowds, in simple enough garb that few people recognized them aside from men of the H'Moghadam Hei. He preferred it this way, with no one paying overt attention to them, though of course several vendors he'd frequented before knew exactly who he was and the guards that kept close were less than subtle. For the moment he wanted to forget about all of that and simply get lost in the buzz of Thebes.
He had laughed when the general had shoved him, stumbling by just a few steps before recovering his balance. Such was the nature of friendship between men afterall, more scrapes and harsh but well-intended words exchanged to show affection. Following behind the Moghadam's as the elder one was assisted in, eventually Narmer headed off to the bathhouses to wash off the grime and dust as well, changing into simpler simlah's of the linen kind, before waiting for his friend on the steps of the Moghadam household.
Smirking as they made their way down the streets of Thebes, Narmer's smirk and easy laugh came without a doubt as a few buxom looking ladies greeted him, the ones he had managed to seek out in his short time he had spent in Thebes so far. Despite his young age yet, him being by himself over the past few years had gave Narmer considerable freedom, and he's acquainted himself quite well with the girl's of the Egyptian provinces he's visited, far from Rofah. A brief shadow passed his face as his thoughts lingered on his family. His brother and father would not be supportive of this lifestyle...but they weren't here, and Narmer had no wish to return home. To return home meant facing the reality that both his father and Narutt had left him.
Shaking his head a little to get himself out of that funk, he grinned up when the general asked, and chuckled as he heard the stomach growling. "I would say women, but it would seem you would need some sustenance first before we head to have our pick of the girls." Intentionally flashing his friend a taunting grin, Narmer avoided any blows Osorsen would want to deal to him in retaliation, before bounding his way through the crowds, heading towards the nearest tavern.
Pushing the door open, the evening crowd was loud as they entered, a few men who recognized Osorsen and Narmer raising their tankards in greeting, a greeting which Narmer returned with one of his own, before heading to the counter. Tossing two coins to the tavern keeper, he grabbed the two tankards and slid one over to Osorsen even as he hitched himself up on the bar stool, and let his gaze wander on the offerings up and available.
"Come here often, my friend? They seem familiar with you." Narmer teased as he noticed the gazes of the women in the tavern lingering on them. Narmer wasn't uneager himself. He was young, a virile man who was eager to forget those that he's left behind. And what better way to forget then in the arms of a soft, pliant woman?
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He had laughed when the general had shoved him, stumbling by just a few steps before recovering his balance. Such was the nature of friendship between men afterall, more scrapes and harsh but well-intended words exchanged to show affection. Following behind the Moghadam's as the elder one was assisted in, eventually Narmer headed off to the bathhouses to wash off the grime and dust as well, changing into simpler simlah's of the linen kind, before waiting for his friend on the steps of the Moghadam household.
Smirking as they made their way down the streets of Thebes, Narmer's smirk and easy laugh came without a doubt as a few buxom looking ladies greeted him, the ones he had managed to seek out in his short time he had spent in Thebes so far. Despite his young age yet, him being by himself over the past few years had gave Narmer considerable freedom, and he's acquainted himself quite well with the girl's of the Egyptian provinces he's visited, far from Rofah. A brief shadow passed his face as his thoughts lingered on his family. His brother and father would not be supportive of this lifestyle...but they weren't here, and Narmer had no wish to return home. To return home meant facing the reality that both his father and Narutt had left him.
Shaking his head a little to get himself out of that funk, he grinned up when the general asked, and chuckled as he heard the stomach growling. "I would say women, but it would seem you would need some sustenance first before we head to have our pick of the girls." Intentionally flashing his friend a taunting grin, Narmer avoided any blows Osorsen would want to deal to him in retaliation, before bounding his way through the crowds, heading towards the nearest tavern.
Pushing the door open, the evening crowd was loud as they entered, a few men who recognized Osorsen and Narmer raising their tankards in greeting, a greeting which Narmer returned with one of his own, before heading to the counter. Tossing two coins to the tavern keeper, he grabbed the two tankards and slid one over to Osorsen even as he hitched himself up on the bar stool, and let his gaze wander on the offerings up and available.
"Come here often, my friend? They seem familiar with you." Narmer teased as he noticed the gazes of the women in the tavern lingering on them. Narmer wasn't uneager himself. He was young, a virile man who was eager to forget those that he's left behind. And what better way to forget then in the arms of a soft, pliant woman?
He had laughed when the general had shoved him, stumbling by just a few steps before recovering his balance. Such was the nature of friendship between men afterall, more scrapes and harsh but well-intended words exchanged to show affection. Following behind the Moghadam's as the elder one was assisted in, eventually Narmer headed off to the bathhouses to wash off the grime and dust as well, changing into simpler simlah's of the linen kind, before waiting for his friend on the steps of the Moghadam household.
Smirking as they made their way down the streets of Thebes, Narmer's smirk and easy laugh came without a doubt as a few buxom looking ladies greeted him, the ones he had managed to seek out in his short time he had spent in Thebes so far. Despite his young age yet, him being by himself over the past few years had gave Narmer considerable freedom, and he's acquainted himself quite well with the girl's of the Egyptian provinces he's visited, far from Rofah. A brief shadow passed his face as his thoughts lingered on his family. His brother and father would not be supportive of this lifestyle...but they weren't here, and Narmer had no wish to return home. To return home meant facing the reality that both his father and Narutt had left him.
Shaking his head a little to get himself out of that funk, he grinned up when the general asked, and chuckled as he heard the stomach growling. "I would say women, but it would seem you would need some sustenance first before we head to have our pick of the girls." Intentionally flashing his friend a taunting grin, Narmer avoided any blows Osorsen would want to deal to him in retaliation, before bounding his way through the crowds, heading towards the nearest tavern.
Pushing the door open, the evening crowd was loud as they entered, a few men who recognized Osorsen and Narmer raising their tankards in greeting, a greeting which Narmer returned with one of his own, before heading to the counter. Tossing two coins to the tavern keeper, he grabbed the two tankards and slid one over to Osorsen even as he hitched himself up on the bar stool, and let his gaze wander on the offerings up and available.
"Come here often, my friend? They seem familiar with you." Narmer teased as he noticed the gazes of the women in the tavern lingering on them. Narmer wasn't uneager himself. He was young, a virile man who was eager to forget those that he's left behind. And what better way to forget then in the arms of a soft, pliant woman?
With a flash of annoyance, he darted over to swat at Narmer but the younger man sprinted free of his assault. Chasing him through the streets with their other companions with a laugh, the tavern they entered was one he was rather familiar with. The food was good, the drink was strong, and there were beautiful women who didn't always require payment of more than a mutual exchange of pleasure. With a blatant wink at one in particular he'd had in the past, Osorsen settled at the bar with his friend and lifted his own cup in a salute.
Drinking deeply, he gave a hearty sigh when he broke away and turned to survey the crowd around them. There was the usual contingent of soldiers, merchants, working men, all equal when gathered for food and drink at the tables and there were games to be played. Several dice matches were taking place around the room, and some of the women had started dancing to the sounds of a bard in the corner playing. It was there his gaze lingered, watching their forms move and sway in a nearly hypnotic manner. One day, he would need to marry and produce heirs, and at that time he supposed his eye should not stray further than the few he kept in his household. But today was not that day.
"Only when I need a good drink and better company than I keep at home."
Better company that didn't feel the need to nag him and act as if they were a wife to him already when they never could and never would be. Asha was good for who she was, and on occasion he admitted that he needed and even wanted her words of wisdom, but there was something about the mindless enjoyment of a stranger, someone who didn't expect or demand anything more from him than what he got in return. Perhaps he would return to one he'd had before, or seek out someone new. There was one girl in the group of those dancing with fairer hair, an exotic look in the southern climes especially of Thebes, and his gaze lingered on her in particular.
"I think, I have found what my desires are. What of your own?"
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With a flash of annoyance, he darted over to swat at Narmer but the younger man sprinted free of his assault. Chasing him through the streets with their other companions with a laugh, the tavern they entered was one he was rather familiar with. The food was good, the drink was strong, and there were beautiful women who didn't always require payment of more than a mutual exchange of pleasure. With a blatant wink at one in particular he'd had in the past, Osorsen settled at the bar with his friend and lifted his own cup in a salute.
Drinking deeply, he gave a hearty sigh when he broke away and turned to survey the crowd around them. There was the usual contingent of soldiers, merchants, working men, all equal when gathered for food and drink at the tables and there were games to be played. Several dice matches were taking place around the room, and some of the women had started dancing to the sounds of a bard in the corner playing. It was there his gaze lingered, watching their forms move and sway in a nearly hypnotic manner. One day, he would need to marry and produce heirs, and at that time he supposed his eye should not stray further than the few he kept in his household. But today was not that day.
"Only when I need a good drink and better company than I keep at home."
Better company that didn't feel the need to nag him and act as if they were a wife to him already when they never could and never would be. Asha was good for who she was, and on occasion he admitted that he needed and even wanted her words of wisdom, but there was something about the mindless enjoyment of a stranger, someone who didn't expect or demand anything more from him than what he got in return. Perhaps he would return to one he'd had before, or seek out someone new. There was one girl in the group of those dancing with fairer hair, an exotic look in the southern climes especially of Thebes, and his gaze lingered on her in particular.
"I think, I have found what my desires are. What of your own?"
With a flash of annoyance, he darted over to swat at Narmer but the younger man sprinted free of his assault. Chasing him through the streets with their other companions with a laugh, the tavern they entered was one he was rather familiar with. The food was good, the drink was strong, and there were beautiful women who didn't always require payment of more than a mutual exchange of pleasure. With a blatant wink at one in particular he'd had in the past, Osorsen settled at the bar with his friend and lifted his own cup in a salute.
Drinking deeply, he gave a hearty sigh when he broke away and turned to survey the crowd around them. There was the usual contingent of soldiers, merchants, working men, all equal when gathered for food and drink at the tables and there were games to be played. Several dice matches were taking place around the room, and some of the women had started dancing to the sounds of a bard in the corner playing. It was there his gaze lingered, watching their forms move and sway in a nearly hypnotic manner. One day, he would need to marry and produce heirs, and at that time he supposed his eye should not stray further than the few he kept in his household. But today was not that day.
"Only when I need a good drink and better company than I keep at home."
Better company that didn't feel the need to nag him and act as if they were a wife to him already when they never could and never would be. Asha was good for who she was, and on occasion he admitted that he needed and even wanted her words of wisdom, but there was something about the mindless enjoyment of a stranger, someone who didn't expect or demand anything more from him than what he got in return. Perhaps he would return to one he'd had before, or seek out someone new. There was one girl in the group of those dancing with fairer hair, an exotic look in the southern climes especially of Thebes, and his gaze lingered on her in particular.
"I think, I have found what my desires are. What of your own?"
A tavern need only have good women and good drink - that the food was good too happened to be a plus, and it was why Osorsen and Narmer frequented this particular establishment, eager as they were to get their young teeth into some of the gorgeous ladies on offer. Of course, to thoroughly enjoy, one must inspect all the wares first, and unlike Osorsen, Narmer liked watching. His eyes were studious as he watched them, for the young and training Head was still a curious man who liked exploring to figure out what fit him best.
Smirking at a few who he's tumbled into bed with before, the man nursed his tankard, unlike the way Osorsen downed his. Raising a brow at his friend, the Narmer gave an amused smile. "Are you saying your grandfather isn't good company? I wouldn't want to be in your position when he hears that." he sniggered, taking another drink of his beer, his eyes taking in all that was happening. Be it wine, drink, women, money, gambling.... it all happened in this den where the most respectful and prudish of Egyptians did not frequent. But Narmer was not one of them.
While Osorsen was quick to make his decision, Narmer was less so. Allowing his gaze to linger on a few, it was a few moments after his friend had asked im, did the corner of his lips curl upwards, as a bronze skinned beauty made eye contact with him, and cocked her finger towards him in a manner that had Narmer hard pressed to say no.
"I suspect I'll see you later, my friend." he turned to the general, nudged the edge of Osorsen's mug with his own and downed the remainder of his beer, before placing it on the bar counter and wading his way through the women and crowds of drunken men to lay his hands upon the bare waist of a belly dancer who had, just moments ago, been dancing around a bard. Her dress was just enough to cover the necessary parts, but the glint of the metal that was sewn to her clothing made her eye catching, her slender form exactly the kind Narmer favored at this age.
Throwing a look over his shoulder at Osorsen one last time, he flashed the man a smirk and a simple wave of his hand, before disappearing down a hallway. It probably would be midnight before Narmer met the other again for them to make their way back... but for now, he was busy.
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A tavern need only have good women and good drink - that the food was good too happened to be a plus, and it was why Osorsen and Narmer frequented this particular establishment, eager as they were to get their young teeth into some of the gorgeous ladies on offer. Of course, to thoroughly enjoy, one must inspect all the wares first, and unlike Osorsen, Narmer liked watching. His eyes were studious as he watched them, for the young and training Head was still a curious man who liked exploring to figure out what fit him best.
Smirking at a few who he's tumbled into bed with before, the man nursed his tankard, unlike the way Osorsen downed his. Raising a brow at his friend, the Narmer gave an amused smile. "Are you saying your grandfather isn't good company? I wouldn't want to be in your position when he hears that." he sniggered, taking another drink of his beer, his eyes taking in all that was happening. Be it wine, drink, women, money, gambling.... it all happened in this den where the most respectful and prudish of Egyptians did not frequent. But Narmer was not one of them.
While Osorsen was quick to make his decision, Narmer was less so. Allowing his gaze to linger on a few, it was a few moments after his friend had asked im, did the corner of his lips curl upwards, as a bronze skinned beauty made eye contact with him, and cocked her finger towards him in a manner that had Narmer hard pressed to say no.
"I suspect I'll see you later, my friend." he turned to the general, nudged the edge of Osorsen's mug with his own and downed the remainder of his beer, before placing it on the bar counter and wading his way through the women and crowds of drunken men to lay his hands upon the bare waist of a belly dancer who had, just moments ago, been dancing around a bard. Her dress was just enough to cover the necessary parts, but the glint of the metal that was sewn to her clothing made her eye catching, her slender form exactly the kind Narmer favored at this age.
Throwing a look over his shoulder at Osorsen one last time, he flashed the man a smirk and a simple wave of his hand, before disappearing down a hallway. It probably would be midnight before Narmer met the other again for them to make their way back... but for now, he was busy.
A tavern need only have good women and good drink - that the food was good too happened to be a plus, and it was why Osorsen and Narmer frequented this particular establishment, eager as they were to get their young teeth into some of the gorgeous ladies on offer. Of course, to thoroughly enjoy, one must inspect all the wares first, and unlike Osorsen, Narmer liked watching. His eyes were studious as he watched them, for the young and training Head was still a curious man who liked exploring to figure out what fit him best.
Smirking at a few who he's tumbled into bed with before, the man nursed his tankard, unlike the way Osorsen downed his. Raising a brow at his friend, the Narmer gave an amused smile. "Are you saying your grandfather isn't good company? I wouldn't want to be in your position when he hears that." he sniggered, taking another drink of his beer, his eyes taking in all that was happening. Be it wine, drink, women, money, gambling.... it all happened in this den where the most respectful and prudish of Egyptians did not frequent. But Narmer was not one of them.
While Osorsen was quick to make his decision, Narmer was less so. Allowing his gaze to linger on a few, it was a few moments after his friend had asked im, did the corner of his lips curl upwards, as a bronze skinned beauty made eye contact with him, and cocked her finger towards him in a manner that had Narmer hard pressed to say no.
"I suspect I'll see you later, my friend." he turned to the general, nudged the edge of Osorsen's mug with his own and downed the remainder of his beer, before placing it on the bar counter and wading his way through the women and crowds of drunken men to lay his hands upon the bare waist of a belly dancer who had, just moments ago, been dancing around a bard. Her dress was just enough to cover the necessary parts, but the glint of the metal that was sewn to her clothing made her eye catching, her slender form exactly the kind Narmer favored at this age.
Throwing a look over his shoulder at Osorsen one last time, he flashed the man a smirk and a simple wave of his hand, before disappearing down a hallway. It probably would be midnight before Narmer met the other again for them to make their way back... but for now, he was busy.
