#beihet ic

[bastsoldtrollblog]

May I have a hug Bei*

"......"

>> Sigh, your shoulders sagging a bit.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

> As usual, you are at work in the shop. The forge is open to the street with a large open window for customers, and the rhythmic sound of your work carries across the small town.

> Most of the townsfolk ignore you unless they need something fixed or made, which you’re entirely fine with.

> However there are plenty of travelers. This town is on a busy road from a larger city, and plenty of people pass through, and some of those people have never seen a blacksmith at work or otherwise decide to bother you.

> You glance up to see one such troll approaching.

> And then you pick up a beautifully etched, decorative sword from one of the tables of completed works, and toss it in the forge.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Astira took the kettle off the stove, and poured the hot water into the teapot, the loose leaves swirling about inside with the flow of the water.

A small intake to catch a whiff of the fragrant, dry leaves, and then he closed the lid to let the tea steep.

Tea, how it was meant to be enjoyed. Rather than a mockery of it using some flavorful mosses like he had down in the caverns, the stuff always just tasted like dirt. Every night Astira thanked his lucky stars that he’d made it to the surface alive. There was so much to do, to see. Some things he’d even heard stories of, carried from the jades of distant caverns or talk of the oldest writings that were brought down from the surface.

Bread, too. Real bread, made with wheat instead of the cavern potatoes- Which, in hindsight, would be rather odd to the surface sensibilities- And so, so much more that Astira could be grateful for.

He hummed delightfully as he made himself a sandwich while the tea steeped. If he could make the ham and cheese himself he would, it was such a wonderful process- But he had to settle for buying it instead, and at least making the bread.

Astira cut his sandwich diagonally and set it out on a cute little plate he’d gotten with the tea set, and poured himself a cup of tea. He had just lifted the cup to his lips when he heard a knock at the door.

It was awfully early, the sun was rising, who could be out and about now..?

Well, likely someone who needed shelter from the sun and undead. Astira hastily set down his cup and stood, straightening out his clothes as he went to the door.

He opened it and was met with a monster of a troll, a gashed face and throat, covered in blood, wheezing and rattling like a dying animal. Astira shrieked and fumbled to slam the door shut, thinking he’d just foolishly opened the door for a zombie.

Astira quickly slammed the deadbolt and pressed his hands against the door in the vain hope of bracing it in case that giant of a troll threw his weight against it, his heart hammering in his chest...

...The zombie had startled and backed away rather quickly when he screamed.

He listened carefully and could still hear him on the other side, gasping and panting.

And...

Something about him was familiar...

Astira bit his lower lip and slid open the deadbolt, braced himself, and opened the door just a bit. He peered out quietly; The troll was definitely still standing there, staring down the street now, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

Sliced nigh to ribbons though it was, his attire was that of the caverns. And Astira did know this troll. It took him several long moments to recall his name.

“...Beihet?”

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Beihet strolled along beside the smaller jade, his heavy boots leaving large prints in the soft moss, while Mikora’s light step hardly left any dent at all.

Mikora’s voice echoed slightly in the open cavern, and he accentuated his words with generous hand motions. Beihet always thought it looked like he were operating some fantastic, invisible machine of buttons and levers while he spoke.

“--I think it’s a good idea, really, splitting up the ranks like that, eases the burden on everyone and presents some opportunity for trolls to move up into the new vacancies,” Mikora chattered. He paused only to hop from the bank of a trickling stream onto a large mossy rock, and then again to the other side. Beihet did the same motion in two steps.

They had wandered quite far out into the cavern, but that wasn’t unusual. Mikora liked to talk and Beihet liked to listen. They’d stop when they reached the waterfall.

“Well, it wouldn’t be so good for me,” Beihet said. “The importance of my position would be shifted. Compromised.”

“Well, everything always goes well for you, so I’m sure you’d be fine.” Snipped Mikora, continuing his climb up the rocks, and Beihet blinked. That was unusually mean-spirited for him.

“What do you mean?” He asked, figuring that just...Came out wrong.

“I mean,” Mikora paused, tilting his head, his back to Beihet. “I mean, what do you mean? It’s obvious.”

“Wha?”

Mikora echoed his question, mocking his deeper voice. “Wha? C’mon, Beihet. You’ve got a beautiful matesprit, the perfect job, everyone likes you for some reason.”

There was something in Mikora’s tone that Beihet didn’t like. A strained edge, a tenseness, like he were issuing a challenge. Yet the rest was almost playful. His usual chattering. Mikora turned to face him, tilting his head, giving him a smile that was just as tense as his tone.

Beihet was about to ask if he were alright when he continued.

“I mean, you’re too stupid to string half a sentence together most of the time. I really don’t get it! I’d think you were just lucky. Lucky enough to land a total babe, though honestly, all she’s got is her looks. Nothing going on up here,” Mikora tapped his temple. Beihet furrowed his brow, baring his teeth.

“Mikora,” he growled. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing!” Mikora tossed up his hands. “I’m just making an observation! Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“Like hell, what the fuck are you going on about?”

“I’m just saying, you have an inordinate amount of things just fucking going right for you, like, you’re not even aware of it. Goddess, you’re an idiot, and yet-”

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Two of Swords (Continued)

Beihet’s footsteps echoed in the empty maw of the cavern.

A few kicked stones tumbled off the edge of the path, and into the deep chasm below. The caverns were emptied magma chambers, torn by earthquakes; They twisted and writhed like something once alive, overlapping across one another and forming a hopeless maze full of fatal plummets.

The first in a long list of reasons Beihet hadn’t wanted Kanisa to follow, even if he appreciated her support and willingness to potentially die for him despite meeting him just the other night. He hoped she knew, that he was not likely to come back. He wasn’t even sure if he could get through these caverns, either to enter or to escape.

He had done all that he could to prepare, but in the end, it was near to a death sentence. And for all that, he owed it to Astira to try. To go down fighting, because they were both dead men walking as it was, and Beihet himself was beyond the Mother Goddess’ salvation.

Beihet walked for what felt like hours. Few trolls knew this path- Himself least of all. He wasn’t even sure how he had reached the surface when he left.

But he finally reached a heartening- If morbid- sight. A pit of grub skeletons.

He paused to pray for their tiny souls and thanked them for serving as his guide in death.

And then he moved on. The tracks in the dust now were certainly those of Astira and the guards that fetched him.

The cavern began to open, it’s ends converging into a single tunnel carved by water thousands of sweeps ago, leading deeper.

Finally Beihet found himself on a ledge, overlooking the massive chamber which contained the majority of the cavern settlement he had spent the entirety of his living sweeps in.

He took a breath. After two sweeps of nearly obsessing over it, he was back. And it not for revenge, but for the sake of the troll who had likely saved his life, who had extended a kind hand to him again and again.

He prayed it was a noble enough cause to die for.

Beihet made sure his hood was fully pulled up and his mask was on securely as he headed down the path to the settlement. He took a side street and passed a guard, who threw a passing glance at him and then moved on.

He found one of the handful of taverns scattered throughout the settlement, and elected to slip into the alley next to it. Listening to the conversation inside for a while, before moving on.

And he did this for the next night, moving in the shadows from point to point, gathering what information he could about the current state of affairs.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Night after night...

Night after night, Beihet toiled away in the heat of the furnace, wrought plain metal into something useful. It wasn’t even something he particularly enjoyed. It was just something.

Something to keep his mind from wandering. Because every damn night, his thoughts went back to the caverns. Sinking back into those familiar depths like lowering into a warm bath after a long night. But it wasn’t nearly so pleasant, in his thoughts.

He dreamed of wringing Mikora’s scrawny neck. Every night that passed, he wished more and more that he had. He wished he were living with Mikora’s death weighing on his shoulders, instead of grieving his own.

He hated every second he spent lost in those thoughts. He hated the man he’d become, dreaming of murder, of revenge. And that was what kept him from going back.

Beihet didn’t want her to see what he’d become. He wanted her to remember him as he was, because he could never, ever go back. No matter how much he wished things had been different.

No matter how much he wished he could bring her to the surface. She’d love it here, with the fresh air, the wind, the birdsong, the stars. She’d love it with him, if only he were a fraction of the man he once was.

So he worked.

He worked until he couldn’t even lift his arms, until sleep overtook him at long last, until hunger bade him to sink his teeth into the warm flesh of some animal. He made weapon after weapon because that was all he knew how to make, and when he ran out of metal he melted down the weapons and made them again.

And Beihet prayed that the rhythmic sound of hammer on metal would drown out those thoughts. He prayed for numbness, for emptiness, because feeling nothing had to be better than this.

He didn’t realize he had long since gotten his wish.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Jade crowd: What would you look for in your empty quads? Beihet is allowed to draw if that would help explain.

"Um- I...Have no idea? I didn't even know when I was in the caverns."

"-Interesting timing, to be certain. Ah, I...Suppose I might appreciate like-minded trolls. Those who are loyal to their own and share a love of life."

>> Are you describing the traits you see in Toriov? Maybe. Probably not intentionally.

"Hmh, well, I suppose I shall find out, won't I? There are many more strangers from all walks of life on the surface. I don't intend to deny my curiosity."

>> How the hell are you supposed to draw what you look for in a quad?? Apart from appearances, and even then, no one wants to see you try to draw that...

>> You just kinda point at Valeia, catching her attention. You point at yourself and then her again.

"Beihet seconds my statement."

[bastsoldtrollblog]

KING OF SWORDS

“...The trial’s tonight, isn’t it..?”

Beihet caught a whisper. Finally, the news he was waiting for.

“It’s a coupled trial, too. A murderer and a deserter,” another troll continued. The other shuddered. “Jeeze, how grim...”

The deserter had to be Astira. Perhaps that was why he was pulled down now of all times; A coupled trial like this made more of an impression and therefore was sure to discourage future deserters.

Beihet made his way to the temple, taking every side street he could. Eventually, however, he had to step into the main street, which was bustling with trolls at this hour.

Several looked his way the moment he stepped into the lantern light. He moved with his head high; Like he belonged here. Like he was a Quartermaster again, and these were his streets.

Not even the temple guards questioned him. Plenty of trolls were sure to be in and out of the temple tonight, with this trial.

He took a side entrance to the proceedings chamber, where trials of this manner were held. The guard at the entrance looked at him, and then stood aside. “Quartermaster, sir.”

Beihet nodded his head in thanks, and entered.

The crowd of civilians who had come to watch the trial was dense, and he kept to the wall, sidling along until he reached a decent vantage point. It seemed the trial had only just begun.

He looked into the court chamber below, searching for Astira.

Instead, wearing the robes of a prisoner and locked in shackles, was Mikora.

“...the supposed murder of Quartermaster Beihet Karrar, and Low Guard Alecci Havare. Begin your confession, Archivist Mikora.” The head Elder ordered. Mikora was visibly trembling, clearly on the verge of tears.

‘The Elders would like to speak with you.’ Astira’s message. Beihet understood, now, and he felt a fool for not realizing it sooner. He had been so caught up in his headstrong, noble cause...

He clenched his fists. Astira was standing at the back of the room with two guards. He could jump down, slaughter Mikora, grab Astira, and run...

...Like hell that would work. He didn’t care at this point if he were killed, but for Astira’s sake, he had to do everything he could to succeed.

He took as quiet a breath as he could to calm himself. His name was being spoken here, and any attention, even a glance, was unwanted attention.

Mikora began to practically ramble in a wavering voice, recounting the night he had slain Beihet.

Beihet didn’t want to listen. He scanned the opposite crowd, a smaller group of elders and priestesses who were chosen to give their opinions to the judging council of six elders at the front.

His gaze fell on Valeia. She had a somber, grievous expression on her face, and her jade eyes burned a hole into Mikora. Beihet couldn’t help but stare. Wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

By her expression, she was heartbroken. Furious, but hiding it deep. Torn between wanting to cry and wanting to rip Mikora apart, and she could do neither. She would probably go hive after this and weep until she fell asleep, overwhelmed by her bottled emotions.

Or maybe he was just jumping to conclusions.

But...Thirty sweeps they had been together, and she didn’t look like she had changed much in the two sweeps since he had left. He knew her, still.

Or so he hoped. It didn’t matter, in the end.

Beihet turned his attention back to the trial. Mikora faltered his way through his confession of both murders.

One of the elders on the council shuffled through her papers, and cleared her throat. “Additionally: Six murders by exsanguination occurred after-hours directly following the proposed date of Quartermaster Beihet’s murder, and Quartermaster Beihet’s body was not recovered. His lusus, a loyal mount, additionally was reported missing shortly after his disappearance. Three murders by exsanguination were committed directly following Guard Alecci’s proposed date of death, and Guard Alecci was a known rainbow drinker case.”

“Quartermaster Beihet was well within rights to threaten or kill him. Killing him in response is hardly justified,” said another of the elders.

“Agreed. We presume Quartermaster Beihet to have become a rainbow drinker, and for the six deaths following his murder to have been his act, then?”

The seven other elders on the council murmured a chorus of universal agreement.

“Archivist Mikora, your confession does not match the one in our records. Please recount it once more.”

Mikora burst into tears.

He recounted his confession yet again, this time peppered with sobs and cries for mercy. His tears went entirely unheeded.

The trial was not long. They seldom were.

And finally, the council came to an agreement.

“Archivist Mikora, you have committed the murders of Quartermaster Beihet and Guard Alecci, and have the blood of nine others on your hands. You are guilty of betraying your friend and Quartermaster Beihet’s widow, Blade-Priestess Valeia. The council rules your remorse to be insufficient and deems you to be beyond mortal salvation. You are granted a ritual execution, to take place eighteen hours hence!”

Mikora threw himself to his knees, his chains rattling, as two guards approached. He wept loudly, begged for mercy, kicked and fought, screamed for them to wait, to reconsider, and then began throwing curses at Beihet and Alecci, all in the few moments it took to drag him out of the room.

Beihet dared to look at Valeia again. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed troubled by Mikora’s cries. But, it was hard to deny that it was justified.

Astira’s trial went even faster. Sober, almost cheerful, Astira confessed to deserting the caverns. He was quickly sentenced to fifty sweeps of imprisonment, with continued punishment to follow his release.

Beihet slipped out near the end of the trial, hoping to leave before the majority of the crowd did. On his way out through a side entrance to the temple, he paused.

Mikora was knelt near the temple entrance; This was so anyone who wished to do so could speak to him. Astira would likely be brought out too, and those who had watched the trial would pass on their way out.

Tempting, but the risk was too great. It wasn’t as though he could say anything, anyway. He sighed faintly, and quietly slipped out of the temple.