Chapter 2B: Emerging from the Shadows

[Luca the Thief]

Luca ran her fingers through her hair as Tasuli seemed to move to go off, taking a deep breath and pulling up her shoulders, letting it all go slowly in a heavy sigh. Only then did the duke turn back around and spit in the mage's face. The half-elf couldn't help but roll her eyes at his immature behavior, and watched him stalk off with disdain. Normally, she would have left him but given his state of mind, not that she was certain of any given state remaining the same for very long anymore, the last thing Luca needed was the boy getting himself into trouble and having her head on a pike because of it.

Silently shooing her eagle away, Luca tucked her lower lip under her teeth and whistled hard. Gert, who had wandered off some time ago to gnash quietly on somebody's shutter-side daisies, shook her nose about before tottering off to her new owner. A lonely looking and half-digested flower hanging from the horse's heavy lips, Luca went over to Yarg and looked down on the comatose mage.

"Up up, time for class," she yelled into his face, a gob of viscous saliva wriggling down one side of his nose. When she recieved no answer, the half-elf grabbed Yarg by the shirt and with a heave and an unladylike grunt, threw him over her horse's back like a sack of potatoes.

"Don't know about y'all," she said, pulling herself up behind the little man and addressing the few others in the crowd that she recognized, her eyes lingering on Elen as the one she recognized the most, "But best I get on after that brat than he go about stepping on the toes of the big boys who play rough."

Elen watched big eyed and pale faced, wringing her hands in her lap as she stood to the side and the half-elf dealt with the duke. The noble's response was less than savory, and she watched the boy's back as he pushed off through the crowd. Turning away, the half-elf spotted Luca getting onto her steed, the hobbit already sprawled over the off-white mare's back. She nodded quietly, the woman she had tried to help the night prior making a good point. Elendilwyn's splendid mare was standing demurely in the sun, patiently waiting as her owner came up and crawled up on top. Kicking off, the two half-elven women slowly started off after the duke.

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Edited by: Luca the Thief at: 2/27/06 7:09

[Bahran the big]

"Ah, I can see it now, the nobility..." Bahran paused, he had heard something similar before, the nobility in... his... eyes? Yes eyes, the big man thought to himself. "In his eyes. Yes, the nobility is in his eyes," he finished the sentence, looking about, hoping that it seemed like he knew what he was talking about.

The episode between the "feisty thief" and the so-called "duke" played out before Bahran, worrying him slightly. The big man tried to compose his thoughts, and by the time he had finished the lad had wandered off and the thief was riding after him with the hobbit.

He had started to chug along after them, but soon realized he wasn't in shape to be running after a cow, let alone a horse. Bahran turned to the man who had hired him and awkwardly asked, "Uh... I have no horse." He hoped the man understood this was a question and not a statement.

[Tasuli Rose]

Malik

Wincing from the pain in his burnt arm, Malik waited patiently for the man to compose his thoughts, noting how slow in the mind he seemed to be. As he had hired the man for his great size and muscle, a lack of intelligence did not concern him. Nodding to himself as the man turned to leave, the mercenary turned to do the same as the request for a horse reached his ears. Turning back to face Bahran, he silently inspected the giant, sighing to himself as he realized that only one horse possessed the strength to carry his great weight. Never before had Malik been parted from his horse, the stallion living up to his name in various battles, and even the thought of parting was enough to sadden the otherwise stoic warrior.

With a shrill whistle he summoned Mystrume Geinar, taking the reins in one hand as the great stallion approached. Slowly he extended his arm to give the reins to Bahran, making sure that the horse’s gaze was upon him. Trained to kick and bite anyone foolhardy enough to attempt to steal him, it was indeed necessary for Bahran to receive the reins from the stallion’s former master.

“His name is Mystrume Geinar, meaning “Battle Brother” in my native tongue. Whether or not you are a full-blooded Kuglim I do not know, yet you have the look of my people. Thus I trust you to ward the stallion with your life as he will do the same for you.”

With a final pat upon the horse’s haunch, Malik turned in the direction from which they had come, disappearing into the crowd as he slowly walked back to the castle. Only one worry remained upon his mind: whether or not the Duchess would agree that his substitute was suitable to guard her son.

[Bahran the big]

Bahran took the stallion's reins and looked at the horse. He nodded at the beast of an animal as he listened to the man's words.

"Aye, I will look after him," the big man replied as the fellow giant disappeared into the crowd. "Well, Brother, it's just you and me now," he said, turning to the horse.

Bahran led the horse to the side a little and mounted it with the skill that is to be expected of a man of his size and weight. After the ordeal that was Bahran getting on his mount, the big man prodded the horse along after the duke and his female entourage.  

_____________

"Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication."
- Lord Byron

[Tasuli Rose]

After leaving the scene of the smoldering ruin and the shame of having been humiliated by a mere thief, Tasul'i strode along the cobbled streets, his haughty stare threatening any that dared to speak to him. Anger burned within his eyes as he noticed his stallion idly chewing grass that grew through the cracks of the cobblestones. His anger was apparent as he approached his steed, roughly grabbing the reins. After swinging into the saddle and a swift kick to the horse's sides, the young noble rode off toward the city gates.

The gates were closed as he approached, not yet open for the day's traffic. Sleeping soundly next to the gate were two guards, both with their helms tipped over their eyes to block the light of the morning sun. Upon hearing approaching hooves, one sleepily arose and called out.

"Halt! None may pass through the gates at this hour. Turn back and return when the sun is higher in the sky."

The words of the guard were not received well by Tasul'i, his face reddening with anger. Already rage consumed his mind, remembering the actions and deeds of the slutty thief. Riding Rowan to where the guard stood, the noble leaned down, hardly blinking as he roughly kicked the foolish guard in the throat as it was not protected by his armor.

"Fool! Who are you to say when I leave this city? Obey your Duke and open this gate!"

Without another word, the guard collapsed to his knees, coughly loudly and spitting blood onto the front of his tunic, both hands at his throat. Awaking at the noise, the second guard glanced from his partner to the Duke, impatiently waiting for the gate to be opened. Knowing better than to question the Duke, as he had indeed recognized him, the guard stood, hurriedly rushing to open the gate.

Without another glance at the guards or to his companions which were surely following, Tasul'i rode through the gates and left the city of his birth for the first time in his short yet violent life. Thoughts of how he would surive without a plethora of servants to serve him did not occur to his twisted mind, as it was not in his nature to plan ahead. Nor did he worry over interacting with strangers, expecting them to show him the respect he deserved as a noble. That anyone could do anything but faithfully serve him was a concept so foolish it was not worthy of consideration.

Edited by: Tasuli Rose at: 3/17/06 22:41

[ratdragon]

Ratdragon returns the duke's malevolent gaze, promising equal punishment. As the duke left, the elf payed little attention to the rest of his companions.

His wounded arm was making him dizzy, a testament to his low endurance. Holding his arm akwardly across his chest, Ratdragon mounts his serpent. Nudging it softly in the flanks, he held his head down and let Rip-Fang follow the others.

[Luca the Thief]

Luca followed the duke through the city, keeping a decent twenty peds between the two of them. She was not the kind who would raise her head high riding next to such a vile man. It was as she watched silently the display before her at the gates that the half-elf came to the realization of what an ordeal it would truly be to take care of this brat. He would bicker and whine more than any toddler, and the unfortunate fact of the matter was that he was rich and he did possess power. True enough as that may be, however, Luca knew all too well how such ranks were thrown to the wind outside his own jurisdiction. She only prayed that Tasuli would come to that realization in a more kind way so that she may still claim to be have a head to her shoulders after his father had dealt with her.

Once the duke had departed from the gates, the thief kicked at Gert's sides and rode the mare to catch up with him. She threw a pleading gaze to the unharmed guard, flicking her eyes only momentarily to the downed fellow. "A shame about that... truly," she muttered without enthusiasm or sincerity, clicking her tongue and pressing the mottled mare forward, the comatose hobbit bouncing against her knees.

"You can't do that, you know" she said coldly, riding up alongside Tasuli and staring at his profile, brows together in annoyance. It was a queer look on Luca's face, the seriousness out of place among freckles and a rich blush to her cheeks, the pouty rose lips befitting a teen and the way she squinted one eye against the sun.

Without awaiting his response, Luca tugged at Gert's mane, pulling the mare back to ride alongside the next in their small procession.

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[Elendilwyn]

As far as Elen is concerned, she really could not care less for all this childish display of temper, as long as it did not readily inflict harm onto the people around her and herself of course. She probably cared less about the petty Duke than Luca did, who seemed, for all her display of independence and wilfulness, to be a really soft-hearted person inside—at least that was what it seemed to be in a warped sort of way.

Luca had gone on ahead and Elen followed behind though not too closely, the gap widening at each passing moment. Fast-riding was not her cup of tea and since she was not the last in the group, she was definitely not going to ride any faster—one must be crazy to want to be in close proximity with the Duke—and in any case, she was keeping a comfortable pace, unlike the reckless two ahead of her.

She saw Luca riding up close to the Duke in the distance but she soon fell back and was riding alongside. The initial tension soon melted into a comfortable silence, punctuated only the beats of hoofs. Elen turned to Luca and asked, “what did you say to him? I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble.”

The day has waned, walk with me, grant me this song... Can you hear?
The midnight sun is calling...

Elendilwyn Gwaihir

[Luca the Thief]

“what did you say to him? I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble.”

Luca turned to Elen and shrugged slightly. "I simply explained to him quite simply that he can't be going about being such a brat for much more longer, and that's that. Tis a simple fact, truly, kiddo. He's going to get his rich little self in trouble sooner or letter, I'm telling you that."

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[Tasuli Rose]

Silence greeted the senses as the party rode forth from the city, the Duke several peds ahead of the rest at all times as it would not be proper for a man of his status to be seen with such peasants. Indeed, if it were not for the manipulations of his mother, he would now be surrounded by armored guards instead of these scoundrels. An occasional glare from the Duke was enough to ensure they understood their place and did not attempt to approach him, for only a fool would incite his rage.

As the hours passed, the fog faded as the sun exerted its might, bathing the world in its golden glow. Reining Rowan to a halt at a gently flowing brook, Tasul’i gazed upon the water, his eyes following it to its source, the nearby river. Crossing the river was a bridge, crafted of brick and wide enough for two riders to pass abreast. The roar of the river was audible even from a distance, rushing past the bridge’s supports, seeming to challenge them, defying their right to stand upon the river bed. Seeming to have sprouted up around the bridge itself was a town too large to deserve the name village and not yet great enough to be a city.

Dismounting, Tasul’i led the roan stallion to the stream, allowing the horse to drink as the Duke impatiently waited for the others, his disgust for them clearly expressed upon his face. As they neared, he began to remove the tattered remains of his clothes, casually tossing them to one side, finally standing in only a breechcloth. Lean muscles coiled beneath pale skin, unblemished even after the fire. His voice was harsh and commanding as he called out to those he deemed less even than servants.

“You, maid! The foul stench of smoke needs to be cleansed from me, and since I lack the proper servants in this wilderness, it is your duty to bathe me. Various bathing oils are in my saddlebags, take them and wait for me by the stream.” His gaze turned to Luca, his scowl deepening as he looked upon her. “I doubt such a criminal possesses any useful skills, so the task of cleaning my clothes falls to you. Even one of your dubious talents can manage that much.” Turning to the elf, somewhat of a mischievous glint could be seen in his eyes. “Elf! Start a fire and prepare my dinner. I expect a meal as succulent as any I could have in the castle. If a fire is beyond your skills to create, then I suggest waking the halfling.” A measure of fear could be seen in his emerald eyes as they turned to the giant. “There are no tasks which require your strength, and I doubt one such as yourself can perform tasks with anything that remotely resembles delicacy.”

Turning his back to the group, Tasul’i stalked off in the direction of the stream, assuming that all would act as they were commanded without question.  

[Luca the Thief]

Luca thoughts had long disbanded from the relevant and she was innocently watching the clouds as they drifted lethargically across the sky in whispy watercolor streaks, her trunk bouncing with the lazy duhk clop of her horse's heavy strides. The hobbit was still strewn at her thighs, and Luca was not so ignorant not to realize the discomfort he would be in when he awoke.

Suddenly, she was startled back to alertness by Tasuli's unfortunately familiar bark. And, as Luca's eyes rose to him, she was greeted with a pleasantly new and unfamiliar sight. Despite his age, the young noble's body was toned, honed and without a doubt a grateful exchange for the usual sweating, aged and practical burl of city men. A sly smile had found it's way on Luca's slight pink lips as she released Gert's mane, who promptly dipped her head to nibble at the grass. Keeping a firm hand on Yarg's back to keep him from rolling straight on into the mud, Luca nodded in Tasuli's direction, pointing with her lips like a full-handed merchant.

"Tcha, knowing me your clothes would be ages downstream before I had my hands on the soap," she replied, still smiling, "Though... I'm no novice in the service of rubbing, scrubbing and... being helpful." A ripple of devious laughter erupted from her lips as Luca stretched and hopped from Gert's back, who promptly lurched forward (once again nearly toppling the poor comatose hobbit straight from her back) and drank heartily from the stream. The half-elf clapped Gert on the side and then dusted off her hands on her skirt, biting her tongue and grinning as she continued to tease Tasuli. "Well then, boyo... ready to go?"

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[Elendilwyn]

Elen nodded at Luca’s answer, though it isn’t as if the Duke had not already gotten himself into trouble—more trouble—not a welcomed thought. The trot of her horse fell into comfortable pace and she was quite content to let silence take precedence but as usual, that was not to be.

“You, maid! The foul stench of smoke needs to be cleansed from me, and since I lack the proper servants in this wilderness, it is your duty to bathe me. Various bathing oils are in my saddlebags, take them and wait for me by the stream.”

She was momentarily miffed at that interruption of her thoughts and the way he addressed everyone, but the reality of the Duke’s command sank in and she saw him by the stream. Her face turned a slight pink as she saw him in his nakedness, covered only by a cloth… bathing females was nothing new but bathing males? She had to admit that he had a good body but the job that had just been assigned to her was still out of everything that she was comfortable with. She led her horse to the stream and got off gently, allowing her horse to take its well-deserved drink. She on the other hand hesitantly made her way to Tasul’i’s stallion and looked for the bathing oils in the saddlebags. She found three bottles and took them to the Duke for his selection, growing increasingly nervous as she made her way closer to him—her dress was a problem, bathing him in the stream meant that she was going to get wet and she only had a minimal change of clothes in her own saddlebags.  

The artist usually sets out — or used to — to point a moral and adorn a tale. The tale, however, points the other way, as a rule. Two blankly opposing morals, the artist’s and the tale’s. Never trust the artist. Trust the tale.
- DH Lawrence

[Tasuli Rose]

A scowl formed upon his face as the thief spoke, accompanied by a blush as she mentioned rubbing, the sexual innuendo not being lost upon him. Turning to face her, the scowl became a sly smile as hunger burned within his eyes. Not for sustenance for his mortal form did he hunger, instead desiring her delectable flesh. His gaze roamed the contours of her young, trim form, basking in her beauty, taking note of every seductive curve and focusing especially upon her curvaceous hips. The flames of desire burned within his mind, consuming all other thoughts, focusing him solely upon the object of his desire.

Taking the bottles of bathing oil from the maid without seeming to notice her, randomly choosing one and returning the remaining two to her, Tasul’i strode toward the feisty thief, leaning in as he placed the bottle in her hands, clasping his own larger, stronger hands over hers as he leaned in, whispering softly into her ear, “You’ll need this.”

Releasing her hands, he turned back toward the stream, the muscles of his legs being clearly defined as he sauntered toward it. Before stepping into the stream, he looked over his shoulder at the maid, calling to her in a more civil tone than he was accustomed to, “To you falls the task of washing my clothes, perhaps you are more familiar with their care than Luca.”

As he stepped into the stream, he casually removed the breechcloth, tossing it onto the pile of his tattered clothes, offering the others a view of his pale derriere before his waist sank beneath the water. The stream rushed over his nude body, swirling around him as he turned, his emerald gaze focusing upon Luca, becoming mesmerized by her soft brown eyes, falling forever within their depths.  

[ratdragon]

Ratdragon was oblivious to his surroundings, keeping his eyes closed as he held his injured arm close to his body. Unfortunately, the voice of Tasuli invaded his mind, causing him to snap out of his reverie. Glaring at the duke, he didn't miss the mischevious gleam in the half-elf's eyes.

Cook a meal? Having never been a cook even with two good arms, the elf knew this was a futile task. Snarling, Ratdragon leaped off his serpent. Unslinging his bow from his shoulders, the elf stalked off to find something to hunt, whistling shrilly for his eagle. His cape swinging behind him, the elf grimaced as he realized the wound prevented him from getting a firm grasp on his weapon.

------------------
Swift Death to All Who Oppose Me!

 RatDragon

[Elendilwyn]

The Duke clearly had no respect for anyone, grabbing the bottles of oil and then dumping—yes, dumping is the word—what he did not want back to her, without even looking or acknowledging her presence—what am I? A slave or worse still, non-human that I should be so disdained?—she waited till he turned his back on her and then lifted her pretty nose while turning around to walk back to the horse to place the remaining two bottles back in the saddlebag.

She then picked the soiled clothes that were lying on the ground, extremely pleased that she could get away from his detestable person and even more pleased that Luca is going to tend to him, knowing full-well that Luca is definitely going to give him a run for his money. With these thoughts in her mind, she walked with his clothes further downstream and started rinsing them and then scrubbing them with some smooth stones... a little harder than she intended to, largely to vent her annoyance.  

The artist usually sets out — or used to — to point a moral and adorn a tale. The tale, however, points the other way, as a rule. Two blankly opposing morals, the artist’s and the tale’s. Never trust the artist. Trust the tale.
- DH Lawrence

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