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 Kumpania, [Solo]
Baxtalo Ciabatta
 Posted on: Feb 9 2018, 02:12 AM
Free like the wind
D9 Male
Posts: 136
Rep: 4 pts

Lucky rolled the coin from one knuckle to the next as he sat on the ground next to his violin. He watched as the citizens of Nine walked past him, it was a Saturday morning which meant those who were not working the fields were getting supplies from the meager stores downtown. And then there were the gypsies, bastards who were viewed as the lowest of lows in Nine. They lived in their own caravan, the Kumpania of the Sunflower, away from the terrified eyes of the citizens of Nine. It was the way things worked, they stayed away from the golden fields, and in turn the citizens would give them a few coins from time to time, some bread, an easy out.

Lucky smiled at a woman who walked past him, she clutched onto the vegetables she carried walked faster. He laughed and stood up, stretching before picking up his violin. He took a deep breath and started playing, the woman stopped and turned around intoxicated by his beautiful melodies. He had known it would happen, the others were always surprised when a gypsy was able to produce something that they found themselves attracted to. How could something they had learned was so low, be able to produce such a high?

There was nothing more thrilling than being able to turn someone's opinion around, show them the truth. And even better when it was done through music. His creation, especially, a melody he had weaved like a net. He watched as the woman approached him and placed an apple at his feet. If he wanted to, Lucky knew he could have taken the woman to the back-alley and ravished her. Show her the gypsy way. But he was not interested. The pleasures of the flesh were not quite as important to him as the feeling that came over him whenever he managed to convince someone of going against something they had believed in. It was all about the mind games.

Lucky leaned down and grabbed the apple from the floor, taking a bite. He winked at the woman and she rushed off. It was all she could do, surprised by the way the music had changed her mind. It didn't matter though, he had proven his point. He placed the violin back inside the case and started walking. He was done for the day, he had received enough coins and fruit to help the rest of the caravan. After all, if he was really going to be chieftain for the Kumpania he needed to start providing for his family.

Had he not been chosen? Once Voivode Rye passed then Lucky would be the one in charge. Him, despite there being older, more experienced gypsies, even a Victor amongst them, he was the one who had been chosen. There was no bigger honor than to guide his people.

And he would do it with honor, fairness, and respect for everything they stood for.

Hop, Skip, Jump: Tribute can roll 1d2 to "miss" a DOT attack
Silver Tongue: +5 AC to Lucky when attacked by Females
Starvation: Can go one day without food
Patrin Chapati
 Posted on: Feb 21 2018, 01:03 AM
"One with nature."
Posts: 44
Rep: 1 pts

Before the Hunger Games, Patta had loved going downtown to explore, people watch and perform. But ever since he had become a Victor he was no longer just another gypsy trying to perform some type of trickery for a few coins, instead he was the man who had failed year after year to bring a tribute back home. The representation of what District Nine wanted, and was failing to really achieve. He was looked down upon for having came out alive, and being a gypsy, rejecting the riches he had earned through his victory and moving back to the caravan. All that money could have been used to aid the rest of the people from Nine, most would kill for the amount of riches.

But why would he help them? They had always looked down at him, and those who were similar. The word gypsy was never spoken out of disdain amongst the townies, or the people who worked in the fields. Businesses downtown had signs refusing the trading with gypsies. People would walk on the opposite side of the streets when they saw someone who they assumed could be a gypsy. How could they expect anything from Patta when all they had ever done was disrespect him and his people?

To many it was surprising that he had such strong feelings about something, he had always been far too laid back to really care for much of anything. His caravan, however, was one thing he felt incredibly overprotective of. They were his family, the ones for whom he continued to follow the ruling of the Capitol, to avoid for anything to happen to them. He traded his music, his body, and his silver tongue in exchange for protection for those he cared about.

Many would say that this is what made him a leader. The next Voivode, even. But Patta had no intentions in doing such a thing. He could not lead the Kumpania, he had no merits. He had won the Hunger Games, yes, but he didn't view that as extraordinary. And either way, he was not a leader, not really. He was more like a protector, a man who kept in the background and stepped up only to fight the battles others could not.

As he walked through the square, foolishly perhaps, he heard the most beautiful of music. Being someone who had always been in tune with musicality, he could not help but follow the sound. Finally he came face to face to a scene that he was all too familiar with: a gypsy boy playing an instrument while a townie stood close by hypnotized. How could something so disgraceful produce such a beautiful sound? Suddenly the spell broke and the woman placed an apple at the gypsy's feet before running off, her face as red as the fruit she had just given away. Embarrassed by the feelings of pleasure she had just experienced at the dirty hands of a gypsy.

”Lucky,” he said as he approached the young man who bit into the apple. The younger gypsy looked at him and smiled brightly, as always, he was such a cheerful young man, it was no wonder he had been chosen to be the next Voivode.
”Patta, how are you my friend?” the other asked as he approached him, Patta nodded glad to see a familiar face in a place he hated so much.
”Doing great, you know, here to try and trade some spices for coins,” he explained as he produced a few bottles of spices. They had been grown in the caravan, and while many members of Nine would never want to admit it, they were way better than the ones they could buy in the market from other places in Panem.

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