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Asahi Kumoru
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#1
Old 10-01-2009, 12:30 AM

Zolin steered his pedal-cart towards the temple district, and rang the string of bells to alert the pedestrians ahead of him that he was coming through. Some of the other pochteca had invested recently in carts that moved on their own power and did not require pedaling, but Zolin preferred the feeling of control if he had to do at least some of the moving himself. Maybe he was just old fashioned.

He wore a fine loincloth and cape, and a few narrow gold bangles around his wrists, but Zolin himself paled in comparison to the woman who sat with her hands in her lap in the back of his cart. She had a wide skirt on, brightly colored and patterned, and a matching cloak that all but hid her white blouse. Gold bells and ornaments in her hair jingled as her head lolled slightly with every bump the cart hit in the road, and there were even a few long slender green quetzal feathers woven into her plaited black hair.

Few people who saw the woman passively sitting there would have realized she was no living being, but one of the dolls for sacrifice, so fine was the craftsmanship that had gone into the carving of her delicate fingers and facial features. But still, she did have a soul - one that was fueled by blackest coal like that which filled the twin sacks on either side of her in the cart.

A heavy load, but Zolin was a strong man. The muscles in his legs flexed in alternating rhythm as he continued to power his cart up the shallow slope to the temples, where he would deliver the girl and the coal her body required. And once he had been paid for her safe delivery, Zolin planned to fuel his own body with a good drink and a fine meal before retiring for the night. A good day at the market was still tiring, and he had traveling to do in a few days.

Bleak Banter
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#2
Old 10-01-2009, 03:32 PM

Itztli loved his job.

It was true, there was something to be said for actual human sacrifices. Three or four of your brethren holding down the squirming victim, cutting in and revealing their heart for the gods. The scent of blood would fill your nose, and the screams of the disheartened (literally) victim as they saw their death revealed. That was one of the few true highs left in such a society. But there was something much, much more satisfactory about giving the gods the flesh of a machine.

Did they purposefully change their internal structures to be more enjoyable to give to the gods? The rip of flesh somehow seemed more enjoyable, that stench of oil surpassed the metallic smell of blood, and there was no guilt of taking the life of one of your own. The gods he worshipped, the new gods, the true gods, made his life so enjoyable. Never once had he regretted his place as a priest.

As his job dictated, he knew everything there was to know about the dieties, old and new. All the ceremonies, facts and dates were burned into his mind. There was a very, very special day to come up soon, and he would need a very, very special sacrifice.

That was why his attention snapped up at the sound of the ringing bell of a pedal cart. His gaze was stern and cold, much like a hawk onto its prey, as he centered his focus on the cat in the distance. Oh, yes. Only a few moments now and he would acquire the doll he so desired.

Itztli was very intimidating in appearance. He was tall and fairly muscled (one had to be in order to be a priest. There was a surprisingly large amount of manual labor involved) with a very sharp face. Dark, hooded eyes, high cheek bones with sallow cheeks, thin lips always slightly downturned, thick, dark eyebrows, a strong chin and no hair. It was hard not to be intimidated by him, and unfortunately his personality wasn't much better. He didn't quite have a reputation for being rude, but certainly nobody saw him as a kind soul.

"You're late." He said, crossing his arms. The movement made the excessive and various assortment of gold and jade jewelry he wore give a light, pleasant tinkling.

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#3
Old 10-03-2009, 07:04 AM

A different Zolin, the one who resided in the pochtecatl guild hall, with feathers at his shoulders and thick gold bracers around his wrists, might have been able to look a priest in the eye, but Zolin the merchant knew he was no noble when out among society at large. ... Yet something about this fellow in particular unnerved him just enough to make him sit a little straighter as he pulled the pedal-cart around to stop in front of the temple.

Brushing sweaty strands of hair back from where they stuck to his forehead, he swung his legs over the side and slipped down from the cart, then kicked the little lever to keep the thing from rolling off while he was unloading it. Gods were gods, even if they had only appeared since his parents' time, and he felt a bit of nervousness that he had arrived here late and kept the gods waiting. Keeping anyone waiting, really, was a problem in Zolin's mind, since his business was moving things from here to there. He made a respectful gesture to the priest and spoke a quick apology as he hurried around to the rear of the cart to unbuckle the doll's belts and help her to her feet.

Really, though, he should care a bit more about this job. For ages, the soldiers had been the ones of glory, bringing sacrifices to the temples to be murdered ritually every day so that the sun would have the strength to rise the next day. Now, these new gods, even if not everyone believed in their might, demanded sacrifices that only the pochteca could provide. So, like it or not, Zolin was one of the first in a new era for people of his profession. He might just have to get used to the vaguely unsettling look of the priests when he delivered his own captives.

... Perhaps instead of a new headdress or a finer cape, Zolin's next major purchase would be one of those sun-follower devices with the tooth-wheels inside, so that he could better keep track of time. Any price would be worth it if it meant he would not have to have this particular gaze fixed on him ever again.

"As long as you nourish the gods and make them proud of us," he murmured to the doll, tilting her chin up a hair with one finger before turning back to the priest and making a gesture to the girl who now stood beside him.

Then, a bit louder, he announced to the priest, "We are here and she is ready for you," and began to unload the sacks of coal. "Do you, ah, want me to carry these anywhere for you or do you want to take them yourself?" Zolin fidgeted a bit, wondering vaguely if the coal was kept in some secret place that only the priests could visit.

 


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