[Character Sheet] Valkera

[Equoez]

Overview:
Name: Valkera Goldenthal
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 34
Culture: Thaian
Birth: unknown
Height: 1,72m
Personality: compassionate, arrogant, irritable
Profession: runecarver, healer and fisher, (former trader and thief)

Defining traits:
Feeble frame
This character was born delicate and is often sick and bruise easily.
Suspicious heathen
This character has a reputation for rejecting the divine truth.
Guttersnipe
This character grew up on the streets without a parent.

The street urchin, up to the age of 14.
She has no memories of living anywhere else than on the streets. Like all Thaian guttersnipes, Valkera had to resort to pickpocketing rather than begging to survive; to which only a Venorean would stoop she thought, so she rather sought help from friends. The discovery of her magical talent as a healer wasn’t instant. She had noticed that her treatment of the diseases she and her gang had contracted over the years healed at a much faster rate than normal. A possibility reveals itself when she learns how to carve runes with healing magic. The ensuing break from the streets leaves Valkera hopeful of a decent life.

The runecarver, age 14 to 16.
A Cormayan trader partners with Valkera to set up business on Farm Lane. The contract looks professional, and she trust the piece of paper with reverence, as most illiterate people do when confronted with the art of “painting sound”, only to find that she has been tricked into selling exclusively to a repressive military order with no profit for herself. The order’s desperation for supplies stems from a difficult struggle to supress a popular revolt in Edron, an island which they had just recently annexed, much to the displeasure of its inhabitants. Disillusioned by years of abuse, Valkera looks for an escape. She convinces the only friend she has in the order to help her stowaway on a trade ship for Liberty Bay, where she hopes to make a new life.

The healer, age 16 to 17.
Business in Liberty Bay proves an impossible task. The islanders often fall victim to pirate raids and established traders are disdainful of competition. One vindictive tradesman hires local thugs to trash Valkera’s little vendor on Straycat’s Corner, and she falls back into squalor once more.

Hopeful to make friends and simultaneously do some good, she volunteers to treat the slum’s disease-riddled children, who are turned away by corrupt temple priests for their lack of coin. In exchange for her service, she’s happy enough to take a hot meal and a roof to sleep beneath. Just as it seems like Vakera has found a new home, a particularly superstitious father to one of the children learns that Valkera can’t read or write and believes that her powers come from Zathroth-worship. Out of fear of being hexed, a mob drives her out of town.

The Circle of Golgari, age 17 to 19.
Valkera’s destitution takes her to the Venduran mountains where she learns that she isn’t alone in her predicament. The Mountain Hideout is home to the Circle of Golgari, a group of misfits and outcasts that has been shunned by the community as well, and they welcome her as their equal. For the first time in her life, Valkera has a real bed to sleep in, in a private room even. She loves her new friends and grows particularly close to one man, a sorcerer, who teaches her to read.

In the mountains there are more people who’s been driven out from society and for good reason. She stumbles upon this particularly cruel voodoo cult that tries to kill her. They would have done it too, had it not been for a knight who intervenes and slay the cultists. It’s her friend, the order member who helped her escape the abusive contract. The knight says the order has fallen a long time ago and that she’s been looking for Valkera to recruit her in the struggle against those who brought them down. Thinking of her friends in the mountains, Valkera refuses at first, but the knight reminds her that she’s in debt to her for saving her life twice now. Begrudgingly, Valkera agrees to join the Bey faction in the Dark Side civil war, leaving the mountains behind.

***
Bey, fifteen years ago.
Big thanks to Wizm for helping me with the historical facts!

Valkera wakes up in a shudder and gets increasingly aware of the gnawing ache. It must be at least the tenth time now and the pain seems to worsen with every passing hour. She’s reminded of Carlin’s cobbled stone floor pressing up on the front of her body. It’s unbearable. She tries to change position but is immediately aware of her friend snoring peacefully at her side. What the hell, Valkera thinks to herself, why can't I sleep like that? She tries to pull the bag of runes out from underneath herself, but there’s barely room to move an inch. They are hidden beneath the floor in one of the towers at the city’s east gate, on watch for the enemy. The serene face on her sleeping friend annoys her and she stifles an urge to drive an elbow up her waist. To calm herself, she close her eyes shut and slowly counts from ten. Of course, it does not help, it never does. Her left eyelid twitches in irritation.

They have been lying in wait for hours without having seen anyone through the narrow crack in the wall. At one point, Equoez had heard a noise and woke her up, but it was only a townsman out and about at his morning labour. The knight had quickly gone back to sleep while Valkera was left alone for hours, robbed of that sweet mercy herself. When it was eventually granted to her, it had been one of those restless ones that leaves you unsure of whether you had actually dreamed or just been lying there at thought. There had been nightmares again, commoners dropping dead around her, their mouths open as if screaming, though they were silent as the grave. The worst part of it all was seeing their hard faces and eyes staring accusingly at her, as though she had been their killer. Definitively awake and in pain, she blames all her nightmares on the ache, which she feels is working itself down the ischiadic nerve, agony radiating out to the outside of her thighs. Great, she thinks to herself and sighs, my fucking lot in life. Despite her age, aches have been a constant companion for as long as she remembers.

Valkera grew up homeless on the streets of Thais, never knowing the identity of her parents, and reckoned that had something to do with her poor health. Back ache, bad digestion, fevers and bruises. When she was fourteen, she had met a boy who had taught her how to heal the worst of her ailments, but they had never disappeared entirely. His home had at times been a sanctuary from the depravity in her life. That’s when I met Wizm, she remembers. He would often hang around the flat to do rune work, tell jokes and make grand plans for his future. The thought of those memories gives her goosebumps. She asks herself how she got involved in this mess, forced to fight him of all people, in a war so confusing that she struggles to remember what it’s even about. There must be a logical timeline though, a succession of causes, each followed by an effect that can be traced from the beginning until now.

The previous war was a complete disaster and those who deny it are morons. The enemy was cunning and moreover, they fought for a better cause, in spite of Equoez' conviction. Valkera turns her head to examine her friend, whom she envied sometimes for being able to find comfort in her beliefs. She was utterly convinced that she fought the spawns of evil, bringing justice to a dark world. She doesn’t look like the type of person plagued by nightmares, Valkera thought. Then again, she was one of those naive bastards who mistakes dreaming for reasoning, unable to understand the people that she fought. For years they had been trampled by the Alliance under noble pretenses when it was really about them preserving their power. If they had just admitted it, I would have respected them more.

According to Equoez, the enemy were cowardly in nature and utterly inept at war too. “We have Veldoor, Langbogen and Caldrin besides!” the fool would exclaim whenever somebody doubted, blind to see that the Alliance was entirely without spirit. Granted, it could be said that the Alliance had won a pyrrhic victory, but they didn’t recognize at what cost. Many of the most important veterans had died or were lost, and those who remained were no real killers. You’d have to be if you expected to win against this kind of people. She turns away from her friend with a snort. Had not the Dark Side, with greater motivation even, managed to recover from all their losses? Magius’ private war had been the ultimate inspiration for their drive to recruit and train mages, and what they lacked in fame, they made up for in ferocity. And once they were convinced of their superior strength, the quarrel began anew. The peace had done nothing to heal the old wounds that had festered in the absence of any real change, so the Alliance had responded by declaring war, unwittingly sealing their own fate in the process. And then the scores were settled.

Fools, Valkera concludes and again tries to pull the rune bag out from underneath herself. At last, she manages to get it out and heaves it on top of the snoring knight, who seems utterly unperturbed. Valkera rolls her eyes at her friend’s seemingly supernatural ability to sleep anywhere at any time. Knights with insignificant magical proficiency to make use of magic-wall runes were relegated to guard duty, a job so boring that it had evidently made Equoez able to sleep through just about anything. When the Dark Side defeated the Alliance army at the battle of the Green Claw Swamp, she had been taken prisoner when a scouting party found her sitting on the ground with her back leaning against a tree, snoring peacefully while “guarding” the supply cart. Valkera loves seeing her face flush red whenever she reminds her of that story.

She ponders on in the logic with renewed confidence. The Alliance had been defeated even before the first battle took place and left a power vacuum for the victorious to fill. What did the Dark Side do then? Well, what you’d expect. They were too numerous and hungry for blood, and not so unitary in cohesion as one could imagine, so immediately they broke up into several different factions depending on personal loyalties and tastes, each with a boss in command of its own gang. Valkera blinks and shakes her head in resignation, They held the world in their hands, then pulled it apart. She wonders what the world would have looked like had they wanted to establish a new order that replaced the old, but figures that it would have been an affair too dull for them to pursue. After all, they had no one left to fight when the enemy caved so readily. To think that Dagor called us traitors when we paid our way out. With the stroke of a quill, Vofibu inflicted more harm to them than any of Dagor’s battles ever could. He should have thanked the man. She smiles to herself and looks out through the crack. It’s still calm out there. In the alley across the street, she sees a stray dog curled up in sleep. Her smile fades slowly, lost in thought.

The vendetta had started with the murder of Dinaforce at the hands of Mordorion and his band. Valkera tries to remember what their motive was but can’t. What she does remember is the malice in Equoez’ eyes when she told her the news, and went on to predict the return of the glorious days when the allied guilds were the peerless super-power of the world. The prediction never came true, but Bey’s promise did. Dinaforce’s gang had gathered to swear death upon her killers and anyone who helped them, despite being at a serious numerical disadvantage. They were underdogs at guerilla tactics and could consequently choose the time, place and conditions for any battle. They welcomed their new enemy who had brought them a purpose again. "Death begets death", Valkera murmurs, quoting Oafah, the self-proclaimed messiah. Even though he was stupid enough to think anyone could reconcile the Alliance and Dark side guilds, he did have a gift with words. Anyone from the former allied guilds were invited to take part and Equoez were eager for revenge against Citadelica, who had allied with Mordorion, while Valkera begrudgingly came with. She’d rather not fight Wizm, who were her friend, and knew the prospect of winning was more than bleak, but-

Valkera is suddenly wrested from her daydreaming by something her senses register in delay. Something had passed by, right in front of her eyes through the crack in the wall, but she hadn't reacted until now. Everything in her head is at a standstill, and she tries to shake off the confusion and get back to reality. How much time had passed? It couldn’t have been her imagination. Then she notices the dog curiously observing something in another direction. She follows its gaze and clearly sees the silhouette of a cluster of shadows against a wall. While holding the object with her gaze, she carefully reaches her hand out to wake her friend, but suddenly jumps in fright.

"Is it them?" Equoez whispers and frowns apologetically for startling her. She is already on her knees preparing to leave the hiding spot. They are supposed to notify the war band, who is gathering outside Carlin’s east gate, when the enemy is on the move. This seems to be the moment they’ve waited for and Valkera is more than happy to leave the uncomfortable place behind.

"Yes, of course," Valkera hisses irritably, "gimme the fucking runes."

To her indignation, she notes that the knight isn’t as stiff as herself. Bitch is way older than me! Realizing her difficulty, Equoez smiles and extends a helping hand. Valkera slaps it out of her sight and with the support of a knee, she manages to get up while swearing under her breath.

”How many are they? Did you see Magius?”

“Hell if I know! They were too fast to count. Ten, fifteen maybe, whatever.” It was just a rough estimate, but she’s too embarrassed to admit she hadn’t been sufficiently observant on the watch. The bosses’ decision to fight or not would be based on their intel. There would be hell to pay if she’s the cause of a defeat. I suppose it won’t matter to a corpse.

”And Magius?” Equoez hands her the runes and dons her helmet.

“He’s always there isn’t he?”

“Right. Shall we?”

As they run down the street to meet up with the band, the sound of a whimper halts her track while Equoez continues without her, unable to hear through the helmet. She knows it’s dangerous to loiter alone and hesitates, but against her better judgement, she decides to go back.

Valkera’s heart falls at the pitiful sight in the alley. You fucking bastards. This wasn’t where the enemy had gone, it couldn’t have been them. She recognizes the magic, someone must have thrown a Soulfire Rune on the sleeping dog while passing by. What’s the point of it? When she realizes that it’s at its final rasping breaths, she takes off her backpack to rummage for a healing rune. Panic, rage and despair, all at the same time grips her chest tight and threatens to overwhelm her. Her search is frantic and she afraid that she’ll miss it if she doesn’t compose herself. By the time she finds what she’s looking for however, the dog’s breathing has already ceased. With eyes closed shut for a moment, Valkera stifles the surge of tears. She is petrified in place for what feels like minutes, then gets up with a jolt, throws her backpack on and leaves in a hurry.

As she’s out of the alley, someone slams into her, knocking her off her feet.

”You idiot, let’s go! We’ve got them trapped! Come on, let’s kill them all!”

Crulex and the rest of the war band have already disappeared behind the corner when the shock finally breaks. With a deep sigh she’s up and running, trying to catch up with her comrades to join them at the bloodletting, leaving the remaining shred of sense behind her.


Continuation: Carlin 19th sep 2008 Bey vs Sat

***

The war, age 19 to 24.
The comfortability and enlightenment in the Circle of Golgari is but a distant memory. As when she was young, her life is again wholly miserable, all because of the war. She hates the degeneracy, filth and cruelty in her life and feels duped of the chance to live decently, and the war does in no amount of capacity bring about glory and heroism. Not to her. No, she has never been at such a low point in her life as nobody cares whether she’s alive or dead. As one of many spokes in a wheel that relentlessly kept turning, every miserable day is the same as the day before. She had once been a simple pickpocket, but at least she hadn’t hurt anyone. She had also been a healer, aiding people in need, but now she’s forced to use her magic to harm and kill, all because of a debt to a friend who isn’t even around anymore, abandoning the war and Valkera in the process.

She is as friendless and poor as she was ten years ago, and the war shows no sign of ever coming to a close. There is no last shout into the wind. She deserts in silence, leaving it all behind.

[Ooh Steady]

Good job capturing the details of Valkera linking it to this historical event.

The language though lady! hehe

[Valkera]

The island of Senja, age 34.
Just as she walked through the village’s north gate, Valkera stops to marvel at the blood-red colour the setting sun casts upon the village. The same colours are reflected in the calm shimmering Nordic Ocean, which has yielded some of its finest treasures: the northern pike. The mild temperature has allowed her to gut her catch on the shores, thus returning a tribute to the waters which keeps on giving. She thinks it likely that crayfish may have already finished feasting on the remains.

The spring snow is a heavy sludge that sticks to her boots, making the short walk to the plaza more taxing than it normally would. Having followed a neighbour’s familiar footmarks from the east to the inn, she stomps her feet outside Scott’s door to leave the wet snow behind.

Scott the innkeep is sharpening his favourite filet knife and he looks up in mild surprise. He hadn’t expected her return yet. Scott’s a poor fisherman but an excellent cook, and his eyes gleam at the sight of the already fileted fish and takes them off her hands and quickly scampers off to the kitchen where he’ll prepare tonight’s meal. Valkera looks around the almost empty tavern as it’s still too early for the villagers’ evening supper.

The large house is brightly lit by a large cobblestone chimney and burning sconces. The wooden walls are decorated with preserved hunting trophies and paintings of famous Senjan fishermen. For some peculiar reason, there’s an empty copper-red bird’s house mounted on the wall, which would have been most inviting for any nesting bird, had it been on the outside of the tavern. She had never been able to coax that story out of the innkeep. Next to it, a large noticeboard that is dangerously overflowed with sheets of papers in different colours, threatening to bring it down with a crash. A shiny silver plaque is fastened to its frame that reads: Senja Fellowship Community.

At the table beneath the noticeboard sits a slender man with his sharp nose buried down a book, an ancient one by the look of its tattered cover. Though hidden from view, Valkera imagines his eyes fast sifting through the text, completely amiss of his surroundings. If the book wasn’t a clue, his ears alone would betray his identity to anyone who would enter, as he is the only elf that dwells on Senja.

Valkera reaches over the counter for two clean mugs and a bottle of mead and heads over to his table. Only when she clears her throat, the elf takes note of her.

“Ah, Valkera.” He closes his book shut and sets it neatly down on the table in care as to not damage its binding. “Bit early for a drink, don’t you think? Or have you forgotten.”

She stares incredulously at him before nodding to the window and says: “Othelen, that’s the sun setting, not rising. You haven’t eaten all day?”

“Now that you mention it, I am kind of peckish”, he answers unperturbed, and continues after a short pause, “Time is a funny thing.”

Unlike his Elvish kind, Othelen lacks the haughty drawl in his speech, allowing him to easily blend into any human community. When he arrived to Senja three years ago, everyone had mistaken him for a human, herself included, until the moment he pulled his hood back, revealing his pointy ears.

She pours the mead almost to the rim of her mug and raise her brows questionably to the elf.

“Oh, go on then. That’s enough, thanks.”

Valkera pushes the filled mug towards him near his book, which he quickly moves out of the way. There’s a faint crease in his forehead that would go unnoticed by those who doesn’t know him. She takes her usual seat in front of him and smiles derisively before taking her first sip of the mead.

“Anderson is nearly ready to embark and I’m going back with him”, he says; “back” referring to the island of Fibula, home to the Red Rose. “I received a summons to a meeting, and-, well…” There’s a long pause where he seems to search for the right words. His blue-grey eyes appear to avoid hers, but he takes a beat as if to go on. He then changes his mind and takes a gulp of his beverage instead.

“What?”, she says with genuine surprise in her voice. For as long as they’ve been friends, she had never seen Othelen hesitate, let alone been at a loss for words. Something is making him uneasy. Her reaction seems to embolden her friend to go on.

“Well, there is going to be a crossfire you see, with no less than two applicants at once.”

Confused as to what business she had with Red Rose matters, she just asked: “Okay?”

“One seems a genuine man. Honest and devoted with a good reputation; I’m sure you’d like him, and…”, he stops when he notices her confusion, then continues: “Look, you must know the other. She named you friend in the application, and I came to think of that knight you mentioned.”

A feeling of foreboding runs through her spine at that. Ten years had passed since the desertion, four of which she spent alone in the Fields of Glory, hiding from the war, and the anxiety had grown distant since her arrival to Senja. Here again, the demon rears its ugly head. Loathed by its intrusion, Valkera interrupts her friend.

“Equoez. The fucking bitch is back then?”

It wasn’t a question, not really, and the sudden profanity took him aback.

“You know, the one who- What? Yes, yes, the very same!”

Annoyed, her friend continues on more swiftly as if to bar the entry of any more curses to the conversation: “Though she’s known by a different name now; Zoldan, and prefers to-“

“I’m coming with you,” she interrupts him again and stands up with such a jolt that their filled mugs are knocked over, spilling the sweet beverage all over the table. Othelen expertly rescues the fragile book from its impending doom, caring for its safety before his own comfort, leaving his red doublet and trousers drenched in an instant.

“Banor’s grace, watch it!”

Valkera ignores him and storms furiously for the tavern door, passing Scott who is peering through the kitchen door and shares a worried look with Othelen. She slams the door so hard behind her that she hears the noticeboard crashing down on the floor.

***

The Kings’ Gulf

Othelen sits at the bottom of the stairs to the ship’s quarter deck observing his friend from a distance. Ever since they embarked from Carlin, he’s tried to determine the right moment to talk some sense into her before they reach Thais. In his many years of service, he knew when to approach and when to wait, and she had mostly been brooding in silence on the first day of the voyage. Yesterday she hadn’t even bothered coming up from below the deck, and when he went down to check on her, he found her at a staring contest with a bag of runes. He preferred not to think what runes they were. This morning however, he found her watching the horizon from the bow of the ship. This is it, he thought and got up.

He placed a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped came across as a friendly gesture and was relieved that she didn’t dismiss him.

“Looks like we’re in for bad weather”, Valkera said about the clouds ahead. He didn’t think they were quite so grey himself, but the Thaian coast won’t be visible for a couple of hours at least and a lot could happen between then and now. Valkera continued: “Think we’ll make it?”

“I think so”, he replied. “Storms can appear from a clear blue sky at a moment, but our captain is seasoned.”

He removes his hand and waits for her to choose where to steer the conversation.

“I haven’t travelled for a decade”, she said.

“Really? In all this time?”

“Nielson’s ferry doesn't count.”

“I see. How does it feel?”

She paused and he regretted asking her so directly, but after some time she sighs and replies: “I don’t know.”

They stand silently for what he fears is too long, thinking he lost the opportunity. He turns around to leave her and give it another try later. Then she speaks again.

“They are just healing runes you know.”

“Sorry?”

“The bag of runes. They’re just healing runes. I’m going to sell them in Thais.”

“Oh, right.”

“I think we’ll make it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, the sun is breaking through the clouds again. Look!”

***

[Faeryndil Sironoth]

Thank you for sharing such well written pieces, Valkera and Nashir!

I have said it before, you have truly a gift and a way with words that I find most impressive! I have very much enjoyed reading what you have published, and I can tell you put real efforts in your work and research! I find the fiction mixed with real Tibia events to be a perfect way of telling an interesting story.
Needless to say, I also found it very honoring to have been mentioned and portrayed so well!

As I have said before, personally I am not very fond of certain swear words in this kind of stories. Not because of prudeness, but because in my own point of view I find them unfit to the "feel-good"-fantasty genre that I reckon we act in. That is however just my opinion... and I guess we all have a set of our own

Great work! Great content! I for one thank you for your efforts!

[Valkera]

Thank you both Steady and Othelen!

To be honest, I never wrote anything like this until I joined the Red Rose, so it's thanks to all of you that I've discovered a new little hobby. <3

And about the swearing: I believe we differ from each other on that because we got into fantasy through two different authors. You're a big Tolkien-fan and I'm a big GRRM-fan. All sorts of swearing in fantasy feels natural to me if it makes sense for that particular character and the world its in. I would immediately lose my immersion too if Gandalf cried "RUN FOR f**k SAKES" instead of "Fly, you fools". Valkera swears and blasphemes unapologetically, Nashir/Equoez doesn't. Now, I guess the problem is that our characters share the same world so when we apply different rules to it in our imagination, it's difficult for one to please the other. In the end we'll just have to look past it and go on supporting each others' creativity. Thanks for the support my friend!

I think it would take a lot of effort for you to get into the A Song of Ice and Fire-series considering how jarring swearing in a fantasy setting is for you, but I would still recommend giving it a read or listen on Storytell or Audible!

[Sante Owns]

OMG you are awesome Valkera <3

[Valkera]

OMG you are awesome Valkera <3

Thank you, so are you Sante! <3

[Sid Swiftshot]

And about the swearing: I believe we differ from each other on that because we got into fantasy through two different authors. You're a big Tolkien-fan and I'm a big GRRM-fan. All sorts of swearing in fantasy feels natural to me if it makes sense for that particular character and the world its in. I would immediately lose my immersion too if Gandalf cried "RUN FOR f**k SAKES" instead of "Fly, you fools". Valkera swears and blasphemes unapologetically, Nashir/Equoez doesn't. Now, I guess the problem is that our characters share the same world so when we apply different rules to it in our imagination, it's difficult for one to please the other. In the end we'll just have to look past it and go on supporting each others' creativity. Thanks for the support my friend!

I think it would take a lot of effort for you to get into the A Song of Ice and Fire-series considering how jarring swearing in a fantasy setting is for you, but I would still recommend giving it a read or listen on Storytell or Audible!

I find this to be a very interesting discussion. It certainly does put the finger on one of the great (but sadly too seldom debated) questions of the Tibian roleplaying community, namely in what kind of fantasy genre we see ourselves roleplaying. Your example of having Gandalf curse by modern means produces the same effects that it would (expectedly) produce in Ooh Steady and Othelen: it appears to be so out of character that it would even break my suspension of disbelief. In your dark fantasy style, however, I trust it works and serves its purpose.

Lorewise, however, the linguistic questions still remain: Do Tibians swear? What kind of curses do they utter? Where do we draw the line between what is perceived as lore-friendly phrasing? How would the Tibian dictionary look like, if it were to be produced based on an official English dictionary but edited in the same way as the Newspeak dictionary of Orwell's 1984 (that is, by prescriptively removing un-Tibian words and phrases)?

[Valkera]

Lorewise, however, the linguistic questions still remain: Do Tibians swear? What kind of curses do they utter? Where do we draw the line between what is perceived as lore-friendly phrasing? How would the Tibian dictionary look like, if it were to be produced based on an official English dictionary but edited in the same way as the Newspeak dictionary of Orwell's 1984 (that is, by prescriptively removing un-Tibian words and phrases)?

Hmm... I don't know if Tibians swear, or at least I can't remember seeing an NPC swearing as bad as Valkera does, but they certainly recognize swearing, seeing as Tibianus' guards punish anyone harshly for doing it near their king. I would think pirates curse like... well pirates, but Tibian pirates don't, so maybe that's evidence enough that Tibians don't swear?

[Faeryndil Sironoth]

In the very old days a few NPC's would in fact respond to you if you insulted them by saying "f**k you".

Elane would even kill you at the instant when you insulted her twice that way. She would however yell an upset warning after the first time that the offender should regret his words or die.

I think perhaps also the king's guards (and even the gate guards in Thais) may harm you if you insult the king (or them) that way, but I could be wrong.

I have always considered Tibia to be in that feel-good-fantasy genre that is related to Tolkien. Even the old NPC's have tribute names from the books