Streets of Tabselem

Anak blinked and the scenery changed. Just a moment ago he was in the skies of Ischuros wrapped in Shot-L'pav's grasp. He looked down at his feet planted on solid stone, then to the bustling and busy market streets he found himself in. This was not Ischuros, of that he could be certain. The shops were set up as tents, not stalls, the portion of the outer wall visible from here was neither as imposing nor as beautiful as his home city's wall, made of a rough combination of wood and metal plating. The skies were dark and cloudy, lacking the advantage of Ischuros' enchanted barrier.

"Shora? Shot-L'pav?" Anak called out to the goddess but saw no sign of her nearby. "Did she just leave me here? That unbridled brat." He spat out in frustration. "I take back any regret I had about kicking your ass, hear me?!" Anak raged towards the clouds at the long gone goddess, drawing the attention of the customers and shopkeepers that packed the area. Realizing the gazes he was attracting, Anak quickly retreated from the square into a small side street lined with tents and merchants where he tried to find a friendly looking face. He wanted to figure out where he was and avoid any trouble if possible.

Stopping at a tent where a wrinkled, deeply tanned old woman selling baskets sat outside, Anak beckoned for her attention. "Excuse me, can you tell me what city this is?"

The old woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously, creasing her already wrinkled brow even further. "You don't know? Didn't they tell you at the gate?"

Anak answered with a grimace, "I didn't actually come in through the gate…"

"What?!" The old woman's eyes nearly popped out their sockets. "Are you telling me you snuck in?"

Anak grimaced once more, trying to figure out how he could explain himself. "Well… let's just say a capricious goddess felt like toying with me."

The old woman snorted in contempt. "Goddess? You mean like those patrons of Ischuros? What fools. We recognize only the Most High here."

Anak smiled bemused. If only the woman knew just what he'd experienced. "And where is here?"

The old woman grinned a toothy smile, and held out her palm. "You want answers, buy a basket."

Anak chuckled and placed a Ker gem in her palm without a word. The old woman's eyes bugged out for the second time looking at the gleaming red gem sitting in her hand.

"You're in the great city of Tabselem, boy. The first city with a king." The old woman answered eagerly, unable to help but puff up with pride as she announced her city's claim to fame.

"The first city with a king… how interesting. About how far from Ischuros would you say I am?" Anak continued to lean on the leverage the value of the Ker gem had bought him to seek answers.

"So, you're from the capitol. It would explain… this." The woman held up the gem between two fingers. "You're some ways from Ischuros lad, but fortunately we are the closest major city to the capitol in the kingdom. If your goddess had been in a more capricious mood, she could've done worse."

"She's not my goddess." Anak vehemently denied. Shot-L'pav may have saved him, but he still abhorred her personality. It wasn't that she was annoying or abrasive, though she was. What he hated most was she didn't seem to care about anything, even herself.

"Oh? Then which god do you claim, Ischurian?" The old woman's ears perked up, interested to hear about the strange gods of Ischuros she'd only heard rumors about.

"I am a vessel of the Most High." Anak solemnly answered.

"A vessel?" The woman scoffed. "If the Most High were to choose a vessel, he wouldn't be from Ischuros. You lot don't even know Him."

Anak shook his head, not willing to engage in debate over the subject. "Thank you for the information." He dipped his head and made to depart.

"Hold on, boy, hold on." The old lady called after him. "You'll need a way home won't you?"

Anak paused to listen. He did indeed have no way back, nor did he understand why Shot-L'pav would simply drop him in this place after saying she would take him to his parents. "You know something?" He prompted for the basket seller to continue.

"Another Ker gem and I'll tell you." The lady revealed another toothy grin as she held out her palm once more.

Anak replied with a laugh before walking away, not looking back. He would've liked to buy the information, but unfortunately he'd spent his last gem. He headed in the direction of the looming, decorative building he assumed to be a palace. If this city venerated the Most High, perhaps with his connection to Triac he could gain favor from the upper levels of Tabselem's hierarchy. They would likely have the swiftest way to Ischuros in the city.

In a narrow alley just out of view of the old lady's tent, three rough looking men wielding daggers eyed Anak like a freshly cooked meal. They wore tattered clothing and faces weathered by years of life on the streets. Hearing his questions and seeing the ker gem, they marked him as easy prey. As Anak headed towards the city center, they followed at a distance behind in the shadows and alleyways.

At last, they got the opportunity they needed. A train of vegetable laden carts was overturned in the street, blocking the way through. With all the diverting traffic packing the sidestreets, Anak was forced to detour into a narrow alleyway. Grinning to each other at their luck, they trio nodded to each other before dashing away, one splitting off to enter through the other side of the alley. They were experienced robbers and knew to do at least this much.

Anak grumbled to himself while squeezing through the alleyway just wide enough to permit his hulking frame. "Who ties three carts to one ox? What did they expect?" He paused suddenly in his steps. Turning to the side so he was parallel to the wall he looked back where he came from. "Do you need something?" He addressed the two rough men approaching with daggers in hand.

With a low chuckle, the leftmost man replied. "You could say that. In fact, we need a lot."

Anak smiled in return. "You might want to rethink your strategy. Do you see yourselves? You couldn't have beaten me in my worst days." He stretched out his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Oh? You think you know our strategy, welp?" the rightmost man, with a left eye entirely concealed by his drooping brow, glowered at the large young man standing tall before them.

Once those words left the man's lips, Anak felt a tremendous impact from behind accompanied by searing heat. He was sent sprawling, his clothing smoking from behind where he'd taken the blow. Were he fully human, without the heat resistance from his star blood, he'd have been turned into a steaming roast. Spitting blood, Anak stood up, a deep scowl of rage etched onto his face. "You would've killed anyone else." Anak seethed as he pictured what might've been had he not been the target.

As he spoke, the two men in front flinched back, not expecting the toasted corpse they just made to stand up and talk. "I-is he a monster?" Asked the one with the droopy brow.

"Gyrud, hit him again!" The other man cried out in panic.

Anak turned his head to see a foot wreathed in flame shooting towards his head. He slipped to the side to narrowly avoid the attack, banging his shoulder against the narrow wall as he did so. "Son of a bitch." Anak cursed under his breath at the pain. The man attached to that foot of flame went flying past his head, before landing in a crouch beside his comrades in crime.

"You're pretty impressive." The one his friends called Gyrud complimented from his crouched position.

"Wish I could say the same." Anak quipped. "Let me guess, you've been branded with a fire enchantment?"

Gyrud barked out bitter laughter. "Do I look like I could afford something like that? Please. I just woke up one day and my feet could burst out in flame. I'm no cheap enchanter, I am Gyrud Flame-Feet, blessed by the Most High!" He proudly declared with a shout, earning him shushing noises and gestures from his cautious friends.

"Blessed? Living as you do?" Anak sneered. "I don't know if you're a liar or just stupid, but there's no blessing to be found in murder." Still Anak's mind was awhirl with chaotic thoughts. If this ability really did just spontaneously occur like Gyrud claimed, he was likely not the first or the last this may have happened to. The question was, what caused it. Certainly not Triac. He would never give such power to a robber.

"It won't matter to a dead man," Gyrud sneered with contempt, before spin kicking the air, sending a wave of flame Anak's way.

"Freeze." Anak spoke his will, and the flame obeyed, locking in place where it was when he spoke. Anak placed his hands on the curved line of flame frozen in the air as his would-be muggers watched dumbfounded. With his bare hands, he molded the flame into a ball, which he then threw into the air before serenely stating, "Release."

The flame exploded in a glorious display up in the sky, leaving none harmed in the process. Anak aimed his intense gaze at the trio before him. "So, who's this dead man, exactly?"