Post by Whyte Phoenix on Jun 12, 2006 23:41:25 GMT -5
ooc; Lemme get this straight first. This will be a VERY BRIEF (5-8 posts/roleplayer ) taste of Hasebi, my new character. Hasebi is going to move on from this thread to a new thread pretty quickly, so I don't wanna lag on this Marketplace thread for too long... unless either me or whoever joins this roleplay can keep a story going. Enjoy, more will come of Hasebi.
Creak. Creak. Creeeeeek.
It was all the freak could hear from his crutches. Even amongst the buzz of commotion in a marketplace, that was all that came to his ear. It was annoying, even after many long years. No matter what, that creak reminded him of what he was.... a cripple. You would think someone would put a beloved pet to sleep if they were maimed for life, but no, this overgrown beast from the east was left to live. So now as a miserable hairball, draped in a light, swishing cloak, limped around the world.
It was nothing in particular that brought him to this particular marketplace. It was quite ordinary ; nothing of interest to buy, nobody of delicate beauty to admire ... not even a single half decent thing of some significance or suspicion to look at. Plain, ranging from light to dark brown tents were alligned on both sides of a thick dirt road, sandwiching a sparse artery of travellers and potential customers between them. Various ordinary goods were sold at every stand : fruits, fish, breads, foods, dried foods, clothes, cheaper clothes, shoes, hats, herbs, and the other everyday things. The maketplace was neither a ghosttown or an abundant palace, but, it was decent enough, like the weather today, sun and clouds. The people browzing and buying there were well suited to the quality of products sold.
Creak. Creeeeek. Cre-ek.
The cripple paused in front of a fruit shop, just to admire the perfect droplets of water the shopkeeper had ingeniously sprinkled on his fruit to add such a fine effect. This odd creature had a thing for the splendid and untainted. Perhaps this was to make up for his bad leg, or what was left of it. Hasebi's left leg ended just before the knee, and from that came a dead mechanical leg, forged by a friend blacksmith, carefully covered with soft bandages to ease the pain of walking. His crutches were made and covered in the same manner. Whatever skills this blacksmith had couldn't be seen. His tailor's though, could.
A cloak as dark as the black in his green eyes was draped over his shoulders and fastened by buckles in the front (this covered most of the bottom half of his face). Though the ends where it had been dragged were torn and tarnished, the fabric still shone quite brilliantly. Nothing covered Hasebi's arms or chest, but thick, sandy fur and bold black stripes. Comforably loose pants hid everything from this creature's waist to justbelowknee on his good leg, and alltheway down on his bad one. The waist and the leg of these pants were held up by a matching mud brown string.
Creak. Creak. Creeeeek.
Hasebi had turned away, and once again started limping away on his crutches. The shopkeeper had given him a good, long stare that was mingled with pity and fear. Both of these were understandable by Hasebi. Pity for the cripple, fear for the beast. His face was too long and ovular to be a cat's, yet too thick to be a dog's ; his snout curved gently outwards and slanted sharply back and then in to form a chin, and his face was wide with tufts of striped hazel fur on all sides. A pair of emerald eyes showed his intellegence as a reasonable creature and not all beast. Small, cupped ears were forever alert. An oddity to fear, Hasebi was.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
Creak. Creak. Creeeeeek.
It was all the freak could hear from his crutches. Even amongst the buzz of commotion in a marketplace, that was all that came to his ear. It was annoying, even after many long years. No matter what, that creak reminded him of what he was.... a cripple. You would think someone would put a beloved pet to sleep if they were maimed for life, but no, this overgrown beast from the east was left to live. So now as a miserable hairball, draped in a light, swishing cloak, limped around the world.
It was nothing in particular that brought him to this particular marketplace. It was quite ordinary ; nothing of interest to buy, nobody of delicate beauty to admire ... not even a single half decent thing of some significance or suspicion to look at. Plain, ranging from light to dark brown tents were alligned on both sides of a thick dirt road, sandwiching a sparse artery of travellers and potential customers between them. Various ordinary goods were sold at every stand : fruits, fish, breads, foods, dried foods, clothes, cheaper clothes, shoes, hats, herbs, and the other everyday things. The maketplace was neither a ghosttown or an abundant palace, but, it was decent enough, like the weather today, sun and clouds. The people browzing and buying there were well suited to the quality of products sold.
Creak. Creeeeek. Cre-ek.
The cripple paused in front of a fruit shop, just to admire the perfect droplets of water the shopkeeper had ingeniously sprinkled on his fruit to add such a fine effect. This odd creature had a thing for the splendid and untainted. Perhaps this was to make up for his bad leg, or what was left of it. Hasebi's left leg ended just before the knee, and from that came a dead mechanical leg, forged by a friend blacksmith, carefully covered with soft bandages to ease the pain of walking. His crutches were made and covered in the same manner. Whatever skills this blacksmith had couldn't be seen. His tailor's though, could.
A cloak as dark as the black in his green eyes was draped over his shoulders and fastened by buckles in the front (this covered most of the bottom half of his face). Though the ends where it had been dragged were torn and tarnished, the fabric still shone quite brilliantly. Nothing covered Hasebi's arms or chest, but thick, sandy fur and bold black stripes. Comforably loose pants hid everything from this creature's waist to justbelowknee on his good leg, and alltheway down on his bad one. The waist and the leg of these pants were held up by a matching mud brown string.
Creak. Creak. Creeeeek.
Hasebi had turned away, and once again started limping away on his crutches. The shopkeeper had given him a good, long stare that was mingled with pity and fear. Both of these were understandable by Hasebi. Pity for the cripple, fear for the beast. His face was too long and ovular to be a cat's, yet too thick to be a dog's ; his snout curved gently outwards and slanted sharply back and then in to form a chin, and his face was wide with tufts of striped hazel fur on all sides. A pair of emerald eyes showed his intellegence as a reasonable creature and not all beast. Small, cupped ears were forever alert. An oddity to fear, Hasebi was.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
