Vexako

[Vexako]

Vexako. That's Vec-ZAH-ko, thanks. (No, I'm not really sure how he figured out that pronunciation, but I'm not going to argue with him. I don't recommend you do, either)

Age: 26
Race: Human

Description:

He smiles, and the air shimmers. Dimples form adorable brackets to his lips, and crinkles crease the outer corners of his eyes. He looks so trustworthy, so suave and with a wicked charm that is so very hard to look away from. He has such a great physique, with well formed parts and the knowing eyes of an experienced man -- the kind to make maidens blush. He must be one of those good bad-boys, the kind who look like rough devil's heroes but save kittens when no one is looking. The kind who speak callously of beggars but secretly pull some strings to get some work for the workless, or a roof over the heads of the homeless. And of course, the kind who steals from the rich and gives to the poor but never keeps enough for himself to become prosperous.

Appearances can be deceiving.

A lovely smile is a dime a dozen, and shimmery air is easily manufactured from bishuu dust, which does a wonder dazzling the senses. So much so that it is often used for stage performances by traveling gypsies to help ease some extra money from the pockets of pre -- err, members of the audience. And well, he tends to look pretty harmless when people are looking, but kicks kittens in his spare time with his well-formed feet (and they are large. . .ladies.) And, well, he sneers at beggars with his full lips, and shoves old ladies out of the way when he's rushing somewhere on wonderfully toned legs.

Did I mention he has absolutely luscious abs? Well, he does. He uses their strength to throw little girls into mud puddles. Or he did, when he was younger. Now he only throws pitiful young men into them so he can steal their girlfriends. Booyah.

Vexako is a scalawag and a rogue, through and through. He's learned from all manner of disreputable people to get his way, and he indulges in many forms of pleasure (. . .ladies). And I mean many (. . .gentlemen). His hair is nearly always carelessly tousled, but never dirty. He always has at least one small smudge of dirt somewhere on his person, just in the right place for a lady's gentle hands to take care of for him. It complements the scar high up on his right cheekbone, highly visible but strangely attractive towards certain danger-loving people. He always smells of leather and, well, man, and sometimes the faintest hint of exotic spice that is so very difficult to place and so very enticing. His eyes are a darkish grey, with the faintest touch of green, and his hair is that perfect brown shading between warm brown tones with just a hint of auburn. He always keeps a well maintained face, with the lightest hint of stubble.

With eyes that always give him an amused air, and very kissable lips, he is both a ladies' man and a man's man, and he seems as though he can play any role you might desire.

It's all very calculated, of course. Beneath the shining yet pleasantly dented exterior lies a very thorough mind. It isn't that he wishes to put it towards world domination or any of the like, mind, he simply likes getting his way wherever he wanders. And he really has a specific way. He is quite a spoiled person, and whenever there are people who do not respond to his charms, he has a tendency to throw tantrums in private, and even might do some delicious homewrecking. What can he say? Life is life so you can enjoy it to the fullest extent, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone or anything get in his way.

Still though, he does pursue short term goals that catch his fancy, from taking up mercenary jobs to toppling foppish noblemen who think they deserve better than Vexako(the nobleman in question learned that yes, it is possible to die from a rapier being shoved up your ass, oh dear). And once he grips an idea within the steel trap that serves in very inelegant form as a brain, well, good luck getting him off.

Possessions:

Liberated bishani
A cutlass, which he wields with finesse even if the thing does not require an overabundance of skill.
Leathers for traveling, fighting, sleeping, and even. . .well, he doesn't always have time to undress for the finer pleasures.
A bag for loot, hair care products (at least a comb and whatever grease or fat or wax is in style, and he has to keep well shaven), and some form of formal dress for when he sneaks into rich people parties.
A great pair of boots.

Powers or Strengths:

Well shit, it's Vexako. Being Vexako is a damn strength, and a mighty fine one at that. He has a wonderful smile, shiny white teeth, perfect muscles, perfect everything, and he's been called a god in certain positions (but he doesn't kiss and tell . . .Fruggles). He fights well with his cutlass, and even without it. He can get people to forgive him with the right expression and downcast look, and damn if he doesn't look absolutely ruggedly handsome and even adorable when he's (insincerely) begging for forgiveness.

And if that doesn't work, he absolutely excels at running away. He can even sail away if he needs to. He's handy with deck work, gets along with most people (unless they're Pethenas, the whore), tolerates alcohol very well, can sew if he needs to repair his clothing, drives a hard bargain, is very nimble fingered (out of bed, you perverts! . . .but in bed too), and has some idea of the worth of most forms of jewelry. He also looks good when riding horses. Wait, who am I kidding? He looks good whatever he's doing. Even if it's your mom. Oh snap! (But could you pretty please tell her he's not going to make next weekend? Or ever again? Thanks, you're such a doll.)

But really. Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayum.

Weaknesses and Flaws:

He's a great guy. He's hot, he fights well enough to woo the ladies and not be killed by most people, can run long distances, gets both the ladies and the gentlemen, and is agile and fit. What weaknesses!

. . .Oh yeah. There was that really hot witch he banged for a week or so, but then his hand may have possibly made contact with her sister's bum (pure accident! Honest!), and he might have called the witch something like an ugly toad of a woman anyways, and why would he need to sleep with her when there was a world of more beautiful women out there who were both better looking and had better attitudes. Oh, and her cooking sucked.

She may have been a little bit outraged and infuriated. And she happened to curse the hell out of him. Now whenever he sees something he thinks is ugly or disgusting his appearance will shift to mirror it until he manages to say or write (legibly): "I love you, Pethenas, and you are better looking than I or any other woman in the world." Whew, it really sucks when he turns into an icky bug. Pethenas was the witch's name, by the way, and don't call her ugly if you ever meet her. And he doesn't like to say that. Admitting someone else looks better than he just -doesn't- happen. (but he usually gives in within a day or two if he can help it)

Post Seemingly Pointless Meandering it turns out the Sea Peoples were able to lift his curse! Ain't that something real nice! But, you know, nothing comes without a price. Ko lost one curse, turned around, and walked smack dab right into another. Now? Now he can't go more than a mile away from the ocean without drying out and flopping around like a fish. Yeah, that means exactly what you're thinking. He goes past that boundary, he's dead meat. Now, he might have his vanity and hate that bitch what cursed him, but at least it let him keep his skin intact. Now? Now he's dealin' with real dark magic, the kind you don't want to meet in a dark alley without your pink ribbon of invincibility.

And as it turns out, there might be some aspects to that curse that he ain't even aware of. The kind that gives you gills and fins when you're around too much water, whether you want 'em or not.

I suppose other weaknesses for Vexako would include his arrogance, vanity, shitty attitude, and immoral behavior that leads to above situations (especially when it involves people with no sense of humor and big weapons or muscles. What a buzzkill). And he has a bit of a quick temper when someone says outright or implies that he's ugly, or possesses any sort of fault whatsoever. Being an ex-sailor, he has quite a mouth on him.

He hates and fears whips, and has the scarring on his back to make sense of it.

He has a strong dislike for magic, and something akin to hatred for witches and their witchery.

One more thing. It's a secret thing. Ko never speaks of it. He refuses to be apart of any sort of latrine goings-ons. Ever. He won't use them, he won't help dig them, he won't go near them. Chamber pot, or pure untouched soil. That's it, baby.

History:

Part I

Street brats are like daisies in Eyropa: they just keep popping up no matter how often gang wars kill 'em off. It's a constant problem for some cities, until one day some official with too much thinking time came up with the perfect solution for dealing with them. Because killing them was taking up too much time and effort and food for the men who were getting it done. And a profit loss just was absolutely not acceptable. Damn brats.

But, as I was saying, it was the perfect solution! This official (who was kinda old and about as far removed from the process of making and having babies as it was possible to get) appointed a few more officials, and soon there were many press-ganged street brats who were getting paid tiny pittances of wages, because they're only really a half or third or quarter or eighth or tenth of real people, and so they should only get paid that much. And since this official and, by proxy, the government were doing these brats such a HUGE favor, they were also put into debt. A lot of debt. Debt that could only be paid off by lots of labor and whatever money they managed to scratch together before they died of old age or (more likely) being overworked and underfed.

Vexako was one of them. But back then he was given the name Richard for awhile, which was an overly presumptuous name for such a scrawny brat, so everyone started calling him Dick instead, which he didn't like much (especially when it mutated to Skinny Dick, which was even worse), so he came up with his own name. That was considered being arrogant and too much like some old ninny, so they started calling him Twat instead, which really had nothing to do with anything, and he complained a lot about that too and after enough bruises and another mutation to the name Girly Boy, which was so much worse because the last thing a proud little boy like Ko wants is to be compared in any way, shape or form to girls, he stopped complaining and just glowered and sulked a lot, which he did anyways, so no one really noticed or cared.

As I was saying, Vexako was press-ganged at a very young age. So young that he didn't really remember it, though that might have had to do with the fact that he struggled so much he was knocked unconscious. There was no reason to remember bad memories that had to do with being knocked unconscious, so the first thing he ever remembered was not being able to feel his fingers. That wasn't pleasant either, but it was the first time ever that he'd felt such a sensation, and it left a mark. Because he was digging a latrine at the time with some of the older boys, and they'd pushed him into the one that had been used even though it was mostly, kinda frozen and if that doesn't scar you for life when you're six than I imagine little else would.

They were the War Boys, which was a name grafted onto their skinny rears (figuratively speaking this time) by the soldiers, and only because they thought it was hilarious. Officially they were the Border Patrol Pages, which sounded noble and pure and maybe like they were being taken care of and learning how to be big and brave like their patrons, but really only meant they got to dig latrines and scour pots, and clean up after the soldiers and be called stupid names like Dick, or Twat, or Girly Boy, which lead to a lot of tussling amongst the boys in hot or cold weather because where else was their juvenile anger supposed to go? The officers, of course, were of the opinion that it was supposed to go into chopping wood and digging latrines and scouring pots and whatever other degrading task could be applied to the boys. None of 'em liked the officers, but officers controlled the whips and no one wanted to be whipped for nothin'. Though sometimes the gain outweighed the risk, and in those circumstances those who were caught would bear it up squallin' and cursin' and claiming later that they didn't cry, hadn't cried. That was a lie. They all cried when the whip caught flesh and tore it up, but they didn't much contradict each other's lies; it brought them together in a spiteful sort of way.

That wasn't life for Vexako. When he thought back to it, he figured that was pre life. It was the hell from which he'd been born: he didn't come out of no pussy. He fucked pussy, he hadn't come out of one. But at that moment in time, when he was six or seven or eight or nine even, and attached to the tightly controlled group of soldiers who patrolled the borders as a means to "capture ruffians, vagabonds and escaped convicts" but really all they were there for was to "make trouble, hit small towns and blame it all on said ruffians, vagabonds, and escaped convicts." So Vexako got to learn early on that he didn't really like soldiers, and they didn't really like him back, and he began to root for the ruffians, vagabonds and escaped convicts when he was carrying out whatever nasty assignment had been assigned to him, and trying not to be the bottom of the pecking order amongst the other boys.

Then there came Jodof. It was a prosperous little town on the coast between the provinces Hasele (which was Ko's Thar, though he didn't think of it as his and he certainly didn't carry any sort of citizenly pride for it, no matter what oath he was made to swear or how the officers made him salute any sorta paraphernalia related to Hasele's Honor, with a capital H, because that was how any incharger spoke of it, all prissy like ) and Corezo, who were the damn dogs Peryer's troop was sent against. Peryer was the head officer of the troop Vexako was attached to, which was why it carried his name. Though, in reality, whomever was in charge of the troop got called Peryer, which Ko secretly thought was some sorta nasty prissy business that made no sense. Not that Ko tried to keep sense of things. He was too busy keepin' his head down and his bruises to a minner.

Jodof had been ignored for the good part of a half century, before which it had no official name and wasn't really registered on any maps or on any official minds except for the local tax collector, and even he sometimes forgot to go collecting there, because it wound up costing more to travel to the damn place than the amount of money he usually got from it. So it went on unremarked and home to some few hardy souls who were just trying to make a living from the ocean and what soil took to growin' stuff that could be used or traded. And then Dosc was born. That wasn't really notable in itself, but in the process of growing and becoming a man, Dosc became a hero (the story itself was some sissy thing that Ko didn't care about. It involved girls). Heroes get royal treatment, and their hometowns became little pockets of fame.

It took some time, but the city grew, and trade was established further and further until the name of Jodof was bandied around the nearby provinces where it made the acquaintance of some politician's ear. The politician noticed Jodof was in that measly grey area in the border between provinces, and after a lot of politicking Jodof was placed into Hasele territory. And sometime after that, Dosc died doing some stupid hero deed probably for some stupid girl, but after that even there was more angst between Hasele and Corezo. That lasted maybe ten years, right up until Ko was seven, eight or nine or so, when the big council declared that for some reason or another, Jodof was being placed into Corezo territory.

Oh, Hasele's leaders were pissed a right goodun. Not publicly of course, but behind closed doors they seethed and schemed revenge against Corezo's leaders, because the two had always had some sly secret feud going on that was never public enough to bring the Emperor's attention down on em, but anyone who knew anything knew it was there.

So orders trickled down, and down, and down until Peryer's Troop were pretty much ordered in fancy wording to sack Jodof back into the gruddy dirt it'd come from. Naturally, no one so much questioned how right or wrong it was to go about setting flame and probably murdering people whom they'd have been protecting otherwise, and had been for the better part of a half century. Sometimes you choose the wrong place to live.

They rolled up their official banners and buried their insignias and all that patriotic Hasele crap, and set out for Jodof. They were the closest of all the Border Patrols, but even so it still took them a week to get to Jodof. A week during which Ko got shoved into another latrine again, and earned the new moniker "Shit For Brains" which maybe was a bit better than Girly Boy, but he was still pissed about it enough to beat up the boy who'd done him for, and earned a good 8 lash wallop for it, but it had been worth it to take down Jer's smartass little face.

So there were no warm and fuzzy feelings for the troop the day they rode on Jodof. That was probably what saved him. Grupenth lords were no dunders, and they'd set up a little welcoming party for the Hasele riders. The boys were mostly along to torch homes and get loot, but when chaos broke loose and they were in a real fight (which Ko later reckoned he'd never truly seen before) he lost track of his mind, and the next thing he knew he was face down in the dirt in a line of Hasele men, done pissed himself with a spear thrust into his face with the point jabbed into his cheekbone and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt.

He screamed and cried about how much he hated Hasele, and Peryer, and he'd talk and say anything and do anything if they let him up and let him go. There was a man there saying let him go he's just a kid and another saying yeah, a fucking Hasele whelp, and then finally he was pulled up onto his feet and the spear (so, so heavy he could barely keep it up) in his hands and they were pointing him towards Yosen, Yosen the whipper, with his cruel little eyes, and they were saying prove it with blood.

His back still hurt from yesterday's whipping. It was the first time he ever killed a man.

After, when he was reeling with shock, the hard man who'd said in a bored tone that Ko was just a kid pulled him up straight and asked for his name. "Girl -- " he almost said it, unthinking and so used to hearing it, but even dazed he couldn't let that name pass his lips. "Vexako." He said instead, too mixed up inside to even be embarrassed, and then he was sick all over the hard man's pants and boots and then he found he did have a little reserve of shame just waiting to be used up.

Later the hard man told Ko, "Vexako, that your name for yourself?" All casual like even though Ko had soiled up a very fine pair of boots. Ko nodded, and the hard man said, "Vexako, that's a good name kid." And then Ko got really drunk for the first time in his life. It was a great time of firsts. Vexako figured that, then, was the day he was born. He later learned the hard man's name was Rigger, and he was a mercer, and from then on Ko was Rigger's dogged loyal shadow.

Part II

Rigger wasn't Rigger's real name, of course, but Ko knew from the start that certain questions were better left unasked. Even so, Rigger didn't whip him when he did wrong (though there was one time when Ko fucked up bad bad, and Rigger hit him so hard he couldn't see straight for an hour, and then made him work in Tad's Tavern's kitchens for a week, which was a special kind of hell of its own) and Ko wasn't so old as to be unable to change from the hard life he'd had with the Troop.

For one thing, Rigger taught Ko a lot of things. Ko learned how to spit right, drink hard, brawl properly, bargain with merchants, and charm women (though for a good long while Ko thought this one was useless and gross). In return, Ko shyly started calling Rigger things like 'sir' and 'Rig' and 'boss' and Rigger would affectionately cuff Ko and call him 'boy' or 'kid' or even 'Ko,' which was the one Vexako lived to hear. After the first year of living with the man, Ko pretty much lived for him anyways.

But the best thing that Rigger taught Ko was how to be a sailor. Rigger was a mercer all right, but before that he was a sailor, and he would often say that once you got seawater in you, it never came out, and it got in your blood and you'd not have it any other way. He crewed a ship that was old and not very pretty or majestic, but that looked like an old weapon that was still sleek and deadly even if it was dinged up a little and not very shiny any more (this comparison was largely due to Rigger's cutlass, which he was teaching Ko to use day by painful day, and Ko worshiped him all the more for). It had proud red letters on it, but Ko couldn't read 'em, and Rigger was right upset hearing that and said that if a sailor couldn't learn his own ship's name then he ain't no sailor.

So Ko learned to read. Letter by frustratingly pointless letter. The ship was named The Wild Taskmaster, which made no sense whatsoever to Ko, but after asking Rigger only received a grunt and mutter about alcohol and bets and women, and since girls were stupid and gross anyways, he figured it was mostly the women's fault. Mostly her crew called her The Wild with reverence in their eyes, so Vexako followed suit and didn't ask again. Eventually it just became the ship's name, and whenever someone else would ask about it he too would mutter something about alcohol and bets and women and change the subject.

He hurt so badly, in places he didn't know could hurt if you weren't hit there first. His life digging and scouring had not prepared him for climbing rigging and hauling rope and tying knots, and he slept long and hard and for the first time in memory had enough food to sate his hunger. He wasn't allotted boots, and when he looked longingly at Rigger's the man only smiled rakishly and cuffed Ko and said: "I'm first mate, kid. And we ain't havin' no soft footed pansy cabin boy, so go run over to Yorga and ask for some sail to mend. You've been avoidin' yer turn with the needle fer weeks and I ain't havin' no more so MOVE." And Ko did whatever Rigger told him to do. He did whatever Rigger expected him to do. He obeyed whomever Rigger expected him to obey. He worked for it, and he did it from choice.

Vexako became the ruffian, the vagabond. He got blisters that burst and bled and were replaced by callouses. His hide got thick and his skin tanned and roughened from the wind. He got sea in his blood, and he loved The Wild and even her crew (this feeling was never acknowledged except in the basest form of loyalty and pride). Sometimes he was asked to help with pirating. Sometimes he was asked to help with smuggling. Sometimes he was asked to haul legitimate ware onto the ship and off of the ship. He did it all, and he grew to love it.

And then, as it happens, one day on shore while they were waiting on the Cap'n to conclude business, Ko was in the tavern all gangly limbed with a cracking voice and a proud patch of light fluff on his upper lip, when he saw her. They were in one of their more frequently visited taverns, and it was probable he'd seen her before, but he'd never looked at her before, and he was lookin' now. She was all curly blonde hair with a wicked smile and a bosom so pert it ought to be against the laws of nature. Of course the sailors noticed, and they roared with laughter and encouraged Ko on while she smiled that sinful smile and gave Ko knowing eyes. He turned out from that encounter, with the men behind and around him carousing and laughing and Ko rolled his eyes mightily and gave a cocky grin and told them to just wait, he would show them!

Three years later, when they were back in that port and she was still there and smilin' and showin' around that look, he took her upstairs and he became a man. Cap'n Truscett got a new cabin boy after that, and Rigger whooped and grinned and bought Ko some fiiiiine rum, and the next day they sailed the hell out of there still hungover but pleased as hellcats nonetheless. After that, there were many more women. Rigger's lessons in this field suddenly became all the more important, but he wasn't givin em out so freely anymore, and Ko had to watch and learn for himself. Together they tickled money from merchants, and sex from women, and alcohol from barkeepers. Ko helped to break the new cabinboy in, and things were good.

Ko was seventeen when they ran afoul of a merchant ship with sorcerers on board. Cap'n Truscett was killed so quick and clean that none of them knew he was dead until after they'd wrestled down the ship and then they blew holy retribution on any of the sorcerers so fast that Ko would swear later the first man was still exhaling the breath he'd taken when he was cut down when the last of them was run through. Rigger became Cap'n. Five other men had been killed in the bloodbath, and they took on a pile of loot. They spent a long, long time in harbor after that.

At first, little changed, but a pattern started up where Rigger would doggedly hunt down ships with sorcerers on 'em and take every last one of 'em and keelhaul the sons of bitches until they screamed no more. At first, it was a form of black vengeance. As time went on, it became dangerous. They attracted notice they had no business attracting, and when Ko and some others went to Rigger with indignant voices and concern, he had them lashed.

He had them lashed.

Ko struggled and swore and yelled, and he was no small man. He had grown tall and well muscled, and he could look Rigger in the eyes. He bargained and pleaded and cursed Rigger and preceding generations, but he got each and every lash, and then a few more for his impertinence. All told, he'd gotten twenty of them, hard hitters that were enough to make Ko think they'd reached his spine. Ko thought he was going to die. They let the four of them, "conspirators" Rigger had called them with a frown of disappointment, hang with a rope around their wrists, attached to the main mast, for three days. Vexako was not naive, he knew that a Cap'n's authority was absolute, but the whip? He hated the whip more than anything.

He would never hate Rigger, not Vexako, but time passed and even though they always made it out of any engagement, the friction between the two men grew and grew. Vexako would never fight Rigger. He would not. But nor could he stand to stay around the older man, and he turned his back on The Wild, and he turned his back on the sea, and with a sack filled with his meager belongings, one day he left the ship at port and he kept walking, on and on. He didn't ever look back.

Part III

Life inland was without spice, without direction, without a rolling deck beneath your feet and salted wind in your nose and hair and an endless array of stars to guide you at night. Land had crevices and mountains and was still with so much on it that sometimes you could hardly even see the sky, much less smell salt on the wind. He hated it. He became sullen, the young man of twenty or so, give or take a few years, and he stole his heart out in order to survive. He stole, and he tricked and cheated and won drinking games and fucked women both easy and chaste, and he grinned at them all with the same charming curve of lips and dimples that felt more like a sneer to Ko.

Then he fell in love. It was unrequited love, sure, but that had never stopped him before. He straightened out a little, got a few legitimate jobs doing this or that, until finally, finally he became bodyguard for some relative or another of the woman, the connection didn't matter, what mattered was that he was around her even if they told him he couldn't use his cutlass while he was on duty, and if he had to wear a scratchy uniform and couldn't keep the top buttons unbuttoned because it looked unprofessional and gods who needed to look professional? He did. Dammit. No matter, it was worth it for her. And when he mustered up the ego to confess his love to her one night, at a minor dance he attended as a bodyguard to her brother now -- oh ho had he risen in the ranks! -- she not only refused him, she splashed her drink on him with a snarl and a sneer, and a few choice unkind words.

That bitch!

He was, of course, transferred to another position where he wouldn't have such close contact with her, but he schemed and plotted and strove to seduce her using all of his eked out skill over the years, until finally one day she gave in and melted into his arms and she was a shitty fuck anyways, and he took one of her underthings and presented it to her fiance, and told him that his lady needed a few lessons in pleasing a man. And he was driven out with no time to pack anything, and he went with what he had on him with a whoop and a holler, but damn had it felt good.

So he wandered awhile. He took up with gypsies for a year or two, and learned the finer points of romancing strangers and charming people who had money, and how to perform wild acrobatics and feats of agility. Life was good for awhile there. He took to it well, until they started making noises and thrusting their daughters at him -- whom he'd fucked anyways but not really felt the urge to get down to fathering children on them -- and he quickly and quietly sped the hell out of there.

He went south a bit, so the winters weren't as cold, and took up residence performing acrobatics for the local minor lordlings, and learned to play the flute from one of the local bards, and became friends of a sort with said minor lordlings (and, of course, their ladies or any nearby women who were attractive and well figured). He cheated them out of their money, of course, and they paid him handsomely for his wonderful company and his skills and he even got on well with their mothers. His circles widened a little, though he was never famous or even well-known, and he enjoyed a life of relative luxury. He played around, and found that sometimes women with men weren't so bad to fuck, and he even found a rogue or two whose assets were fanciable (and in this case, it wasn't their fronts or their backs, but some item or another, or a big fat purse) and enjoyed those dalliances as well.

All in all, he became quite an accomplished hedonist. And then that man, another minor lordling from fuck-all-nowhere showed up and called Ko plain. Yeah, plain. Oh, all pleasure ceased immediately, but Ko kept his cool for awhile. Yeah, he knew how to get along with idiots and heathens, and he put a pleasant face on things until that man happened to say in Ko's hearing that his face was quite a displeasure to look upon, what with that dreadful scar and what not.

Ko very casually suggested that he would like to see that man's fencing, because he'd heard so much about it. The man showed Ko his fencing, and Ko showed him what it felt like to have a rapier shoved up your ass. He tickled that man from the insides, so there was nothing their healers could do.

Ko had to lay low for awhile, and one of the court magikers whom he'd allied with, several times and hadn't liked that man much gave him a destination where he could lay low and unknown for a while. A good long while. And that was when Ko met Pethenas.

Part IV

To get to the house-in-the-woods he was assured no one would be able to find him at, Ko had to travel in a bit of an easterly direction. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, for back in his sailing days old Yorlo had told him during one night of drunken revelry when they'd caught sight of one of those Xian Xing Zo Do elves (or whatever country they were spawned from), and Yorlo had warned Ko off it, saying, "I wouldn't do it, lad. Their pussies are sewed up tight with iron thread, and encased in a steel chastity belt without a key." and Ko had mulled this over for a bit and taken another chug of whatever swill had gotten into his mug, and asked, "No gaffin'? How do they piss an' shit?" Yorlo had given Vexako a very grave stare. "You don't want to know." He'd said, and Ko had stopped asking questions and decided that perhaps he just didn't want to have anything to do with Xian Dian To elf pussy.

Death, however, was quite more intimidating than meeting up with exotic elven ladies he might get a craving to conquer while drunk and then have a terrible experience with, so he went east. It wasn't terribly far, not like the man had implied when explaining, but far enough that Vexako was very tired of walking when he arrived. It seemed to him that with all the powers available in Eyropa, something better than horses, walking and carriages should have been developed, but since he had no control over it himself he simply trudged along, grumbling, and wishing for a ship capable of traversing the land like the water. He had not been wistful about sailing for a long time, but the experience of traveling alone while being harried by the occasional money-hungry lout looking for an easy take (both bandits and bounty hunters alike, since it seemed that man had quite an impressive family money pot just waiting to be put to the good use of tailing after Ko for fixing a terrible world problem. Really, he had made the world a better place. It wasn't his fault if that man's family was blind to it) had given him more than enough time to daydream about being barefoot on a well trod deck with a wind tossed sea horizon to horizon. He missed it, simple as that, and there he was walking further inland instead of back to the coast.

And the thought had crossed his mind that maybe he could have turned south somewhere along the way and gone to a place where no one knew him or cared about what he'd done besides climb rigging, man the deck and repair sail, but perhaps there was a touch of world weariness to his soul. He had, after all, been chased or otherwise encouraged to leave from wherever he'd set anchor, and a touch of simplicity without the trappings of culture and socialite teaparties. Maybe it was all getting to him. Maybe he missed the stability of Rigger.

He'd often thought of the man since he'd left, but on his journey eastward it was the first time he'd really gotten around to missing the old bastard. Missing him, and wondering if maybe there was still a spot open on his crew, a spot shaped in the form of Ko. It wasn't like him to be so damn sentimental. The lack of pussy was getting to him.

And when he knocked on the small cottage door that looked like it hadn't seen repair in a few good long years, he was confronted with exactly that. Well, not that a giant vagina greeted him, but a woman did. They stared at each other for a few minutes, he maybe a little lasciviously, and her with a rather skeptical look that was kinda leaning towards slamming the door in his face. That jolted him out of the 100 watt smile with maybe a bit too much teeth and lingering stare at certain body parts, and quickly he made a bow and introduced himself. She told him he needed a shave, and let him in with a newly mischievous expression that took him aback a few miles.

It wasn't love at first sight. It could be easy to say that Ko had never met a woman quite like Pethenas, and he wasn't really sure if he liked her. For one thing, she didn't drool all over him. For another thing, rather than falling into his arms so they could fuck like rabbits until he was over his current blue ball state, she'd do things like stare into his eyes with a teasing expression and then wordlessly get up, and bring back some tool or another. "Go chop wood." Was the first order she'd ever told him, and then she wordlessly went to scrubbing the floros. He'd stood there and stared at her, but she worked herself hard and though he wasn't used to taking orders from a woman, she hadn't made any sort of response to him so he'd given up and chopped wood.

She wasn't exactly sexy. She looked foreign to Ko, the sort of exotic that wasn't immediately attractive and alluring; she was just different. Normally he'd have passed her over without a second thought (unless she hung around and he gave in for a pity fuck or two and then turned her to the door and pushed her along with a little pat on the rump), but he was stuck with her for an unknown part of time. So he tread around her carefully, and gave up trying to charm her.

She started to treat him like a person. She'd talk to him abruptly of things like the color of pine marten hides, or why trees grew so slowly when you were looking at them but before you knew it they were taller than you. It put him off his guard, and he wasn't sure how he liked that. He didn't see many other people -- she was quite out of the way and she didn't often need to go to a town or the like for supplies of any sort, unless it was for witchery -- and as time passed she slowly grew on him.

She had a thicker body than he was used to. She wasn't obese -- she was too active for that -- but she had the sort of full figured padding that normally wasn't in style and didn't really do it for him. But there was something in the way she moved, full of grace and then she'd stop and give him that smile. There was no sex in this expression, just a full blown mischievousness that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Oh, he fell hard.

When he went after her one night with no strings attached, she took him in with a wolfish grin and last thought that struck him before lust took him under was the bizarre impression that maybe, maybe she'd seduced him?

They played hard, worked hard, and he fixed the leak in her roof and her aging door. He learned how to hunt for her, though the largest creature he'd taken was a hare that happened to cross his path one day when he was out looking for wood. She taught him to mix various potions, and he showed her bishuu dust and how to exercise so your muscles were more pliable. They both enjoyed the fruits of that one. Seasons changed with this easy exchange of come and go, and one summer night under the stars and fully nude Pethenas shyly asked him if he ever wanted children. The question made him uncomfortable, so he told her he didn't really know. They were both silent for awhile, and then Pethenas stirred and they rolled around for awhile. After she told him her sister was coming for a visit to exchange some of what they'd both been working on, and she teasingly told him that she couldn't watch his ass anymore while he was walking around the house. She pinched the muscle in question, and they ended their night with wrestling and laughter.

Her sister came to Pethenas's home in the woods. Ko knew he was in trouble. Every aspect that was so attractive in Pethenas? Oh, the sister had. Times ten. Vexaco lusted. The feeling that quivered in his loins was so powerful that he'd never experienced it before. He tried to hide it, but Pethenas slowly got more and more snappish with him, and he with her. And then one night, in their tiny bedroom, she slapped his groping hand away. "Can you not keep your dick in your pants for a few more days?" And then she called him a harlot.

It stung. Had he not shied away from seducing the sister? Had he not avoided plying her with erotic whispers and suggestive looks? Had he not turned away from gazing too long into her eyes, and tried so very hard to not be alone with her? What the fuck did Pethenas want from him?! What else could he do? And what by the Changers did she think she was, that she could insult him and treat him like he was some slave to her desires?

The next day Pethenas did not talk to him.

Well fuck, he was not going to apologize for being a man. He would not crawl to her on hands and knees and whimper like some adolescent boy without a spine. But still, pointedly, he ignored the sister, and privately told Pethenas that he did not like the sister so she didn't have to be such a bitch to him like he was going to betray what she obviously thought was her territory. He thought it was a very noble thing of himself to reassure her so openly, and he told her so.

She slapped him then, anyways.

The next day, when she blatantly ignored him and went out to pick herbs for whatever brews she was working, he seduced the sister easily. They were done fucking when Pethenas came back, but his hand managed to find the sister's ass as she walked by. It was not like what Pethenas had done earlier in the day -- blatant bitchiness -- but rather a subtle thing. And Pethenas, trembling on the edge of rage the whole day, lost it.

A lot of words were exchanged in very loud voices, by all three of them but mostly between Pethenas and Vexako. He thought, later, that the ultimate snapping point might have occurred when he thoughtfully informed her that the cooking ability she was so proud about was shitty and sometimes inedible.

He had never seen a woman in full wrath before. In some ways, it reminded him of the sea. It was quite impressive. He left the next day, ears ringing.

It took him a few weeks to discover that she'd been quite serious when she'd screamed at him that she would curse him with the transformation piece he'd once commented was a very impressive piece of work.

Shit.

Part V

Pethenas was a clever woman. It had taken her years to perfect, she had told Ko late one night, but she had managed to twist a curse that would afflict a person so that they manifested characteristics of whatever they hated the most. In some cases, she'd giggled at him, they'd turn into what they hated the most completely. From what Vexako knew of magic, it was something worthy of praise. So he'd praised her for it. A lot. And now, she had decided to test it on him.

He had turned into a possum. He'd seen the thing while he'd been striking out angrily for a town or some such where he could start downing drinks until her face no longer haunted him, and he distinctly remembered thinking that it was one of the ugliest animals he'd ever seen. It was a few seconds after that when he'd felt the tingling in his body, and at first he'd mistaken it for something . . .ah. . .happier. That delusion lasted until a pain had struck his body all over, and then suddenly he was shrinking and screaming. When it was over, he simply knew, and he fumed and sputtered angrily. He spent most of the day making animal noises and raging futilely about his situation. There was difficulty in being unable to do anything to help yourself.

Eventually, after a day or so of struggling to discover his trigger (for Pethenas had included one with the curse, he knew!) he set out to find another witch or magic user or someone to help him. Of course, this was no easy thing. Ko was learning how to be a very good possum when he found the first witch. Food was terrible, and, well, the rest of it was not something he particularly wanted to think about. And of course, as fate went, the witch turned out to be a hideous old crone, and though she peered at him with knowledge in her eyes, Ko sped the hell out of there. He'd felt his snout tingling a little, and he figured the only thing worse than being a possum would be to be a possum that looked like an old crone.

So he kept going.

Somehow he managed to turn in a more westward direction, which would take him back to the heart of magic user central (and he figured he probably wasn't too terribly wanted), and by the time he found a second magic user he was forgetting what it was like to be a human. The magic user in question wasn't particularly the best magic user Ko had ever found, but after trying to kill Ko a few times he got the picture that there was something unusual about Ko.

At first the man tried to put Ko into some sort of magical animal menagerie, but Ko gradually convinced the stupid magician that he was under magical duress. Then the man tried to use forcible magic to turn Ko back to his true form. It worked. For about five minutes, during which Ko was thrown into a seizure that lasted until he caught sight of the most grotesque sow he'd ever seen. He promptly turned into the sow. The magician was immediately fascinated. Ko really, really, really hated being a pig.

It took a couple tries after that for the magician to realize blindfolding Ko would be the best option.

After an hour's worth of explaining, Ko got it across to the man that he needed help figuring out the trigger. And then, when they figured it out, Ko raged a little more at the poor magician, who at this point was beginning to regret even looking at the strange possum that had wandered into his house. Ko asked the man to cure his curse, but no such luck; the man had no idea of how to even start disentangling the magic surrounding Ko.

Angered and despairing, Ko took off a little southwards (still trying to avoid the places he'd visited before; the last thing he needed was to run into some of the people he'd previously pissed off) desperately searching for someone to rid him of the blasted curse. Because, when it came down to it, he'd die before asking Pethenas for help.

Fin.

TL;DR

* Ko is a street brat, and he is forced into becoming a "page" for the local soldier unit border patrol thing. Much hell ensues.

* During a raid, the unit is captured and killed, but Ko is spared. He is taken up by a mercenary sailor by the name of Rigger.

* Ko grows up, learns a lot of stuff, forms a lasting bond with Rigger until circumstances push Ko away from sailing.

* Ko wanders for awhile. He takes up with gypsies, merchants and a minor noble's court.

* During the last escapade he is forced to flee to a safe house, in which is a witch by the name of Pethenas. They engage in a long relationship that comes to a rocky end. Pethenas curses Ko.

* Ko, in a possum's form, wanders around looking for someone to help him. After a good long while he finds a male magician who, after many false starts, gets Ko squared away. Unfortunately he cannot cure the curse, so Ko leaves in search of somewhere with someone who can help.