* 
Welcome Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?


*
gfxgfx Home Forum Help Search Calendar Login Register   gfxgfx
gfx gfx
gfx
Embed Maximize


Newbies, read these!

Character Creation
FAQs
Restrictions

Main Site
Portraits
Rules
Story Creation
Racial Crossbreeding
Magic

Contact
Tips and Tricks
IRC Chat
Measures Converter
Elven Aging Calculator

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 11   Go Down
Print
Author Topic: The Boar's Beard  (Read 36226 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
Khel
Unbound Rogue
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 1412


Human, Eyelian


« on: November 16, 2007, 01:12:16 PM »

A dark, rank tavern near the harbour, the Boar's Beard sits crookedly and leaning from the oceanic winds. A stay at the Boar's Beard is considered a ditch effort for a good night's rest away from the rocking of a ship's hull. For those who wouldn't look further into the city for a place to offer, the accommodations at the Beard are adequate. A few broken chair legs, shards of shattered glass, and an occasional rodent's scurry never hurt a wandering sailor. Few higher class folk would venture here, nor would would the tavern be recommended by many residing in the city of Remusiat. However, there always seems to be a light flow of clientele staggering in and out of the creaking threshold.

The bartender, a broad shouldered, heavyset woman in her forties, will most likely greet patrons with a hardened, skeptical look, and a raspy "Whaddya want?" Her years in the tavern have kept her on her toes, Maryn can handle any brawl as well as a man twice her size. A couple pretty, greasy waitresses serve in the common area, and will gladly give service--of any kind--with a thin lipped smile. Commonly, they are seen coming and going in at least one room each night, giving them full reign of most patrons within the tavern.

Upon entering, the aromas of sweat and alcohol immediately hit the nose, accompanied with a smoky fireplace stench that somehow holds it all together. Tiny rooms, simply holding a dilapidating bed and small table, are inset all along a narrow hallway adjoining to the common area. Despite an uncouth reputation, the Boar's Beard houses an amazing cook, and a wide variety of alcoholic drinks--some would say more than the Wison's Breath Inn.
Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Drexal ben Putin
Fighter
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 184


Human, Lyr'teimor Kuglim


« Reply #1 on: November 19, 2007, 12:28:43 PM »

A tall, wide shouldered barbarian entered the tavern, though he knew he was probably not the first such to do so.  Immediately, his senses were assailed with the stench of the place, which wrinkled his face, but did not give him pause.  He had been in worse places.  He strode in, confidently in his demeanor, but inside looking about to see who was watching him.  So far, he seemed safe, as no one here gave him any particular notice. He sighed in relief.

He approached the stone counter of the bar.  A heavy set woman was tending bar, cleaning mugs and pouring drinks.  Drex placed a few coins on the counter.  "Hello, mother.  If you have a room, a drink, and a meal, I would take all three.  I'm not particular about the order I get them."  His stomach growled in protest, and he slapped it with his free hand, looking down and scowling.  "What did I just say?"  he demanded.

He looked up once more at the woman.  "Oh, and perhaps a bath?"  He looked at her a bit more closely, then at the two serving wenches and most of the patrons.  An apologetic grin crept across his lips.  "Perhaps not.  Don't wanna stand out in the crowd."
Logged

Céyehne
Simple Shadow
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 138


Human, Kasumarii


« Reply #2 on: November 19, 2007, 03:43:37 PM »

Remusiat. An ice tribe like that of her own, Céyehne was still surprised by the vast enormity of the city. The structure and, well.... permanence of it all struck her wildly. Being a nomadic people, the Kasumarii carried almost anything they needed at any given time with them, on their backs or in a caravan. The foundations of this city echoed deep within Céyehne's soul. Although she had seen many cities and settlements before, none really seemed to impress her more than that of her Remusian neighbors. The long journey by ship seemed to sit a little lighter with her as she gazed upon the magnificent walls surrounding, and the massive Tower within the city. The cold and the wind did not bother her, but the eternal rocking was starting to get on her nerves. It threw her balance, and for a dancer such was not preferred. Finally stepping off the deck of the ship, Céyehne almost wanted to dance right then and there in the harbour. Her slender frame seemed to move with a particular grace, and a bounce in her step as she made her way away from the docks and towards the city. Needing sleep, the woman spotted the first Tavern that looked as if it would accommodate and approached it.

Black robes bound tightly about her, Céyehne swiftly and gratefully opened the rickety tavern door and stepped inside. The wind was harsh, but not as harsh as hours upon hours of rocking on that blasted boat. Xazure eyes narrowed in disgust, Céyehne glanced around the common area. Yes, the place was nearly as disgusting as its exterior, but she didn't care much, as long as it wasn't continually moving. Snowy, shoulder length hair was windblown and strewn about her shoulders, sticking to her dry lips and sticking out strikingly against the deep black of her robes. The wind outside created an audible draft, and the stench was stronger than she would have liked, but it was altogether the perfect type of place for the entertaining she liked to do... lots of shadows resided here.

Noticing the limited amount of patrons, Céyehne knew it was not yet late enough for a crowd to begin to really stir or get exciting. Waitresses did not bustle about, only a bartender stood behind the counter with a kind of grimace on her face. A long haired man stood before her, and Céyehne approached the bar as well, waiting for the man to stop talking before saying in her own soft voice, "Have ye a room fer me t' stay in? An' can ye allow a night's work for me dancin'?" Xazure eyes looked expectantly at the woman, knowing if she asked right away, rejection would be over and done with before hope began to gather. However, Céyehne knew if she got even just one dance, she'd easily score a few more. 
Logged

cry me a future where the revelations run amok.
Céyehne
Khel
Unbound Rogue
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 1412


Human, Eyelian


« Reply #3 on: November 19, 2007, 04:53:05 PM »

Maryn

Maryn looked with a hard expression at the young man before her. Attractive, she let out an audible grunt.  Oh, one of the waitresses would be on him soon enough. Wiping the counter before her with a twinkle in her eye, she narrowed her eyes as the word "mother" found its way from the man's mouth. Mother? "You tryin' t' be charmin', sonny? Well, y'ain't! Take a seat." If he was trying to be a smartass he'd pay before the night was over. Altogether ignoring his questions, Maryn turned her attention to an attractive young woman who next found refuge in her little tavern.

Eying her questioningly, she was much too pretty to be finding her way in here without reason. Or was she? Nodding curtly as the woman spoke, Maryn grabbed a key from under the bar and slid it with an obnoxious scratching noise across the table to the pretty lady. "Three." Maryn grunted, "We'll see what ye've got later, and I'll be decidin' if ye're worth some coin." Waving a meaty hand, Maryn turned on her cushioned heel and bent to fetch some glasses from beneath the bar. Hopefully they would both just walk away and the waitresses could tend to them.
Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Torscha
Wanderer
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 457


Human, Centoraurian


« Reply #4 on: November 29, 2007, 01:02:29 PM »

Storytellers with bad hearing didn't tend to earn very much. While currently destitute, his penury had a great deal more to do with irresponsible spending habits than an inability to pull in the coin. When he had to, he could have very good hearing indeed. At that moment, even engaged as he was in a casual flirtation with one of the snaky-hipped wenches who had dropped the coins he had given her into his lap to create a pretext for 'retrieving' them, he was aware of the two voices that cut through the general boozy hubbub of the regular clientele.

Torscha eyed the newcomers, taking stock of both of them. The big-shouldered man with the equally big voice was not an unusual sight. Many fighters had come to Remusiat, trickling in from all over in the hopes of making a name for themselves, or at least earning some easy coin, preying on the insecurities of the population by hiring themselves as bodyguards or guards for shops to prevent looting. Most of those, Torscha knew, from eavesdropping on conversations in the watering holes these mercenaries tended to visit, had no intention of staying once things got tough. But in the mean time they were more than happy to soak up the drinks and adulation that the anxious population were eager to ply their would-be saviours with. This one looked different. He noticed the large talon dangling from a thong around the newcomer's neck. Probably a symbol of some tribe of the other, maybe even an accolade. He certainly looks like he could have killed whatever-it-was by himself. Torscha heard the man declare that he had no intention of distinguishing himself from the crowd; the itinerant chuckled sourly into his beer. Just by being a landsman he was being obvious enough.

Torscha had hired on one of the inbound supply vessels as a spare hand to pull oars and a spare back to carry the sacks of provisions that the city was stocking itself with. Adapting quickly to his new conditions, he had become known to be, if not the saltiest sea-dog along the docks, then at least someone who had earned his sea-legs.

Whispering something suitably suggestive and on just the right side of scandalous into the barmaid's ear, Torscha turned his attention to the other one. Ah, now this one was special. Her slim elegance and inhuman beauty made her shine in the gloom of the grotty tavern. With an adroit phrase, he sent the groping wench on her way, and sidled up to Maryn as she dispensed keys and directions with her typical charm.

"That 'un said she be a dancer?" Torscha asked, modulating his voice, roughening it with a tarry burr and taking on the broad vowels and clipped speech of an accustomed sailor.

Maryn squinted at him suspiciously. He could be winning enough, but the old lady was a tough nut to crack, and while she had warmed to him over the passage of a few days she still wasn't quite taken enough with him to trust him whole-heartedly. A most prudent woman, he thought wryly. "What business be it of yours?" she asked.

Torscha spread his hands in a self-deprecating manner, and dropped the whole "salty dog" act. Maryn was obviously not convinced, and a sharp reminder of his actual profession might be in order. He re-adopted his usual smooth speech. "It might be interesting having her perform. I've sung for my supper here enough times. It'll be good to have someone to perform with, if she'll have me accompany her. You know I'm good for it. I can carry a decent reel, and I've been told my jigs are lively enough – maybe even lively enough to put a little bit more spring in your sprightly step, eh?"
Logged

Khel
Unbound Rogue
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 1412


Human, Eyelian


« Reply #5 on: November 30, 2007, 10:52:20 AM »

Maryn

Knowing quite well the lad's affinity for "jigs" as he called them... amongst other things within these Tavern walls, Maryn gave the lad a sly look as her hard exterior crumbled noticeably. Just as well, she thought. Perhaps he would take it upon himself to attract her more savory, and preferraby wealthy patrons. Pointing a stern finger in his face, spittle flew from her wide mouth as she said, "Listen 'ere, boy. Don' ye b' botherin' me wit yer fancy speech an' flow'ry idears. Ye wanna en'ertain yet 'nother youn' thin', ye do it."

Her words escaped almost like a growl. In fact, the boy had a rather good idea, but she'd never let him believe it. Anyway, this way he'd figure it out on his own, and her only concern would be payment. With a grunt, she turned away from him to pour a drink. On second thought, Maryn turned her copious frame towards him again, "Jus' see if I like it, an' ye may b' stayin' fer a time."
« Last Edit: November 30, 2007, 11:00:40 AM by Khel » Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Céyehne
Simple Shadow
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 138


Human, Kasumarii


« Reply #6 on: November 30, 2007, 10:59:55 AM »

Petite nose scrunching in disdain, Céyehne took the key from the bartender and glanced at the muscled man beside her. Was he as disgruntled as she? No matter. Moving to sit at the nearest table, but still away from the bar stools, Céyehne’s lithe frame moved easily within billowy black robes. Well, if she wouldn’t hire her now, who was to say she’d give her a chance later in the evening. Heaving a great sigh, the Kar-ii plopped less-than-daintily into chair facing the far wall. She’d see the door in her peripheral vision, something the woman needed in order to feel safe. Especially in a dump like this one.

Céyehne looked for a barmaid to supply her with a hot drink. Tea, that would suit her just fine. As she was indoors, Céyehne gently removed her robes and placed them on the back of her seat, revealing a striking contrast underneath. Skin tight, iridescent white clothing covered her body, leaving no curve to the imagination. Céyehne being a small woman, there wasn’t much to look after, especially compared to the busty barmaids. While situating herself, Céyehne noticed a man rise from a nearby table and approach the bartender. Waiting for his reprimand, Céyehne watched with curiosity as he seemed to speak with her and she did not argue. Hmph, she thought sullenly, wondering what he had done to earn her favor. She thought he’d either been extraordinarily sweet with the barmaids, or was a regular ol’ town drunk.

Turning from him in sudden disinterest, Céyehne signaled a maid and quietly ordered a hot tea in her smooth, rolling speech. She felt quite singled out among the Remusians, who seemed to speak in a kingly, more formal manner. Perhaps her travels had worn her politeness thin, but she smiled a broad, full-lipped smile and thanked the young woman nonetheless. Crossing her agile legs before her on the chair, Céyehne settled and pressed her tiny hands about the warm mug. Despite being accustomed to the cold, Céyehne still enjoyed warmth wherever she could find it, and longed for it to comfort her after her rolling travels by sea. Xazure eyes scanning the tavern, noting tables, the thin hallway, the small fireplace, Céyehne took a sip of tea and took a deep, contented breath.
Logged

cry me a future where the revelations run amok.
Céyehne
Drexal ben Putin
Fighter
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 184


Human, Lyr'teimor Kuglim


« Reply #7 on: December 02, 2007, 03:21:40 PM »

Drexal could not help but notice the woman next to him, and he flashed her a charming smile and winked.  At least the women here were pretty.  He sat at a table and looked about.  This sure was nothing like anywhere else he had ever been.  Not that that was a bad thing.  He really had never been anywhere nice.  Still, it was better than out on the frozen plains, he supposed.

A barmaid brought over a frothy mug of ale.  Her smile was quite alluring, he thought as he watched her leave, her hips swaying suggestively.  He took a long pull on the ale, savoring its taste.  Cold it was.  Something in that struck him as funny, and he began to giggle.  Cold ale in the coldest land in the world.  Who knew?
Logged

Torscha
Wanderer
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 457


Human, Centoraurian


« Reply #8 on: December 02, 2007, 09:23:26 PM »

Blushing a little at the landlady's bold assumptions – not that the thought had not crossed his own mind–, Torscha took a long pull on his tankard to conceal his embarrassment. By the time he had drained it to the dregs, it had largely faded. The big man will definitely complicate things, he thought to himself. Well, him and the impending war, and a hundred thousand other things. Oh well. Perhaps it's time to shine a little bit of light into this lady's day.

With his best "don't mind me, I'm harmless" smile thrown at the big newcomer, Torscha sidled up to the lady, where she sat sipping wine, apparently comfortable in the dingy confines of the taproom despite her finery. "Ava's blessing on you, fair lady," he said, smiling as warmly as he could. It wasn't hard: her delicate features, upturned nose, and the slim curves of her body all conspired to heat his blood. "Then again, it seems she already has: beauty dances in your footsteps, and it seems even the shadows pay tribute to you.

"Forgive my eavesdropping, but I overheard you speaking to our dear landlady, including the tantalising detail that you were, by profession, a dancer?"
Keep looking at her face, he told himself. It was becoming an ordeal to keep on doing so, lovely as she was, not to yield to the temptation of glancing down. "A detail that thrilled my heart, I must confess. My name is Torscha; I'm what passes for entertainment in this dreary place. I tell stories, perform tricks... and when the mood takes the crowd, I can carry a decent tune.

"It strikes me that we have here the possible makings of a wonderful partnership. I've put in a good word for you with the landlady; she knows, dissolute as I may seem, that I know my music. She'll be happy to have you perform for us, if the fancy takes you. To that end, I offer my humble services as an accompanist, whether you prefer the flute or the lute."
He leaned forward, to whisper, in a conspirital fashion, "It might also be a good idea to accept my offer, lady, because you would be dancing to a rough crowd, and sometimes these men whose blood the sea has chilled do rash things when their veins feel again some heat. It might be prudent to have someone on your side, as it were, if things turned ugly."
Logged

Céyehne
Simple Shadow
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 138


Human, Kasumarii


« Reply #9 on: December 04, 2007, 03:34:43 AM »

Curiously, a young man was soon by her side. The man who she'd assumed to be a drunk, and not a person less. Céyehne's blue orbs studied him as he greeted her, arching her slender neck as she nodded in greeting as well. Listening as he spoke, she thought it first ironic he would use such fancy words mentioning shadows. Could he sense her gifts. Although it was largely unknown, Céyehne had indeed met some who knew the meaning of the black robes she wore. Secondly, she found it completely unsurprising that he should have been eavesdropping previously as he mentioned her dancing. Sipping her tea as she turned towards him a little, Céyehne found herself caught in his smooth speech. Indeed, many men had approached her in Taverns much like the Boar's Beard, but none had the charm of this particular one. In fact, as Céyehne searched his features, she would have guessed him "boy" instead of "man". Her thirty summers seemed to offset his youth by a landslide, and her small nose scrunched a little at the thought. Whatever the boy's age, his tanned skin, black hair and especially his black eyes gave him a most mysterious and alluring look.

As he offered to accompany her in her dance, Céyehne straightened her nimble legs beneath her. One slender arm reached to absentmindedly smooth her cyhalloian locks, and she smiled sweetly as his offer did indeed suit her fancy. Perhaps if his favor by the hardened bartender could pay forward to her own favor, Céyehne could have a lovely summertime gig here in Remusiat, despite the goings-on in the city. In fact, the tough times here might prove to draw citizens towards her entertainment, creating a better season than she'd ever had. Céyehne admitted once she performed a single time, it was not hard for many to be drawn into her presence.. she supposed it was the eerie way the shadows played about her snowy figure. At the thought, her smile grew more broad at the thought of a tune in her routine. More than a dancing figure, drunken men might enjoy a tune to dance to themselves.

As the boy leaned in towards her, Céyehne almost recoiled. Her lithe frame tensed with anticipation as she was suddenly suspicious of this man. Too many times had she let a man much too close for her liking, and too many times had he found himself in grave danger. Mostly, Céyehne feared the power she harnessed as fear gripped her. It was all too easy to call the shadows to her side, and easier still to reach to her hip and display the armoured fan so tightly hidden there. Not once had the woman ever intended on hurting another being with either skill, however many drunk, ill-intentioned men had driven her to that point. Now, as the boy before her leaned in, Céyehne held her breath and her emotions steady. As many years as she'd practiced shadowmancy, she was still afraid she'd allow it to become out of her control.

A relieved sigh passed through her slightly parted ginger lips as the boy seemed to voice his concern for the very acts she feared in him. Body relaxing, slender fingers loosening their grip on her mug of tea, Céyehne smiled brightly at the youth. Charming and true to his word; Céyehne took an immediate liking to the seemingly unremarkable man. Standing now, iridescent attire seeming to brighten the entirety of the common area, Céyehne inclined her head again. "An' ye'll protec' me, will ye?" The words rolled off her tongue in her own nonchalant accent, yet the melody of her voice gave it a more formal air. A small wink of her bright xazure eyes told him she accepted his offer, even without saying so. Nicely done, boy. she thought wistfully, for she had never placed trust in a person sooner. "Can ye carry a del'cate tune, m'dear? An' are ye sure ye can keep up wit an' ol' lady?" White teeth shone through ginger lips and blue eyes shone with mirth.
Logged

cry me a future where the revelations run amok.
Céyehne
Torscha
Wanderer
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 457


Human, Centoraurian


« Reply #10 on: December 04, 2007, 06:46:18 AM »

Despite the havoc that the cold weather and the raw heat of the vile ale was wreaking in his body, Torscha felt another, gentler warmth rise from within him at the sound of her voice, melodic and smooth. Her light brogue seemed to offset the preternatural grace of that body, making her more approachable and down-to-earth than he would have expected. He found himself smiling at her, sincerely now. "First of all, I'll duel to the death the next person who calls you old. That's a lie my eyes, weak as they might be, find hard to believe." It was an act of extreme willpower not to let those eyes roam across her lithe curves, not in the least concealed by her choice of attire. With a self-deprecating gesture, he tugged aside the hem of his leather coat, exposing the interlocking rings of his rapier guard. "I'm not one to reach for his blade at the slightest provocation, but debauched as I am, whatever morals I have left won't let me allow a lady to be molested without opposing it." His grin was almost boyish in its abashedness. "I'm not much of a swordsman, lady, but at the very least I'm one you can trust. As to your other question..."

Hopping down from his stool, Torscha made his way over to the corner by the hearth, where a dank peat fire smouldered and sputtered, shedding both a close, humid heat and a rank, acrid smoke that coated the tongue and stung the eyes. He'd played for a couple of evenings by that fire, and hated it intensely. Still, it was a necessary evil: the smoke roughened his voice and thickened his tongue, but the warmth kept his fingers limber, and that mattered more than comfort. A bundle lay in the corner, with a heavy traveller's cloak slung over it; pulling the cloak aside, Torscha reached for the bundle, undoing its drawstrings and letting the sackcloth fall free, withdrawing from it a battered lute.

In the firelight, its scarred wooden surface nonetheless glimmered with the rich warmth of old varnish. He arranged the cloak in a comfortable fashion over the stool and sat. As the clientele noticed the entertainer take his place, sailor after tarry-cloaked sailor set up a steady beat, drumming on their tabletops with their tankards, both applause and demand; they were familiar enough with Torscha's set-up to anticipate a performance. Whistles pierced the heavy silence of the rafters, and a chorus of shouted suggestions, most bawdy, formed a vulgar counterpoint to the ripple of notes that cascaded forth as he ran his fingers over the strings, making a few minute adjustments.

Still in tune, eh, old girl? He smiled fondly at the lute and settled it in his lap, despite his age as lively beneath his hands as any supple lass. He thanked the old bone dice in the pouch at his waist; there had been fewer things he had won which he treasured as much as the old lute. Antique, it was.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, then drew a deep breath. Then whistled once shrilly through his teeth, a high note that split the darkness and thick smoke like a thunderclap, and launched into a song, accompanying the dance of his fingers on the strings with a heavy, thumping beat, tapping his boot in a rhythm the crowd soon picked up. It started out fast, an exuberantly filthy reel, and Torscha's rough, low voice, as much snarl as song, belted out the first lines of the lyrics, about a sailor on shore leave and a tavernkeeper's daughter. There was a moment of collective indrawn breath, as the patrons sucked in air to roar out the familiar chorus, but even before he reached it, Torscha was moving away from the familiarity of the song, improvising recklessly. The strings warmed beneath his fingers, waxed cord and gut coaxed to a sinewy second life by his skill.

The salt-sea faded from his song, which held its initial exuberance, giving way to a new wildness, a rippling motif evocative of firelit dances by endless dunes, of gypsy dances and flashing eyes. The patrons withheld judgement for a moment, before giving a collective roar of approval, tankards crashing against wood. Coins described arcs through the air, glinting false gold as they landed with a brazen clamour at the entertainer's feet, the best kind of applause.

Grinning past the sweat that dripped from his brow, Torscha inclined his head to the lady, inviting her to become part of the act.
Logged

Céyehne
Simple Shadow
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 138


Human, Kasumarii


« Reply #11 on: December 04, 2007, 08:23:45 AM »

A flush found its way over Céyehne’s gentle cheeks as the boy delivered most flattering praise and assurance. And to think this was simply the first dive she chose to enter for the sake of escaping the sea. Smiling, the woman watched as her acquaintance made his way over to the hearth, revealing his lute. As he sat, other patrons within the Beard began to show definite acknowledgment of the man’s ability; a mighty fine ability, as far as Céyehne could guess. Indeed, they immediately turned attention to him, drunken or not, and seemed to plead for the performance with the pounding of their mugs and weathered hands upon stone tables.

The old, many-stringed instrument in his lap intrigued Céyehne. Throughout all her performances, she had not been accompanied; let alone by this type of instrument. It was curious, scratched and obviously loved. The way which the man’s hands touched and handled it suggested a companionship as close as that of true friends, or a beloved pet. Xazure eyes softened at the image before her. Silhouetted against the firelight, the flames flickered and danced, casting shadows of man and lute about the room. Céyehne observed them with an eagerness to dance she had not felt in a while. Now, though, she would focus on this man’s performance; it was rare she had the chance to enjoy entertainment by another.

As he began to play, signaling with a high whistle, Céyehne’s breathing faltered. His fingers moved across the strings as a choreographed movement, steady and true. The music was upbeat, sound and as much as the performance stunned her, the audience’s receptiveness to it stopped her heart. They truly loved him, and that much was enough to endear him into her heart further. When he began his song, belted out in a low, gruff voice, Céyehne would have never guessed such a sound would escape the smooth-talker’s lips. Finding her own tiny foot tapping to his beat, and her ginger lips upturned in a delighted smile, Céyehne nodded approval, justly awed by this mysterious man’s talents.

There seemed to be a collective pause around the room. The pause was an inhalation, the calm before a storm; eye of a tornado. The crest of the wave just before the break, and time feinted to stop. Fingers placed precariously on strings, lips slightly parted in anticipation, eyes downcast in concentration. The aroma of the musty Tavern no longer mattered, the fire seemed to illuminate the dust, creating a shine and shimmer the Tavern had only seen a couple times before. Dilapidated? No, it was a palace, to be ruled by kings; sketchy waitresses no longer sliding through patrons as if seeking hungrily for prey, but beautiful maidens gliding over ballroom floor, perfectly in time with the melodious music. A gentle tune? Ye can play like t’ gods, boy..

The calm over, a furious wave of harmony flew from his fingers; Céyehne hardly saw strings. Man and lute no longer separate, but one entity. As coins dropped at his feet, Céyehne clapped, slender hands ringing in the thick air, xazure eyes looking on in wonder. Then, the unthinkable happened. Grinning at her, the boy motioned for Céyehne to join the act. Eyes widening, Céyehne’s initial reaction was to shake her head emphatically, white locks shaking gingerly around her head. Never had she been so reluctant to strut her own stuff than in the presence of this man. Nevertheless, patrons followed his gaze to look at her, and she strode forward, hips moving from side to side within her skintight wardrobe. As she reached the front and eyes locked on her now, a smug look crossed her face. Lit up against a fiery backdrop, Céyehne nearly radiated throughout the tavern, but she was nothing next to the glow of true talent.

Nodding humbly at her new partner, nimble feet began to keep simple time on the hard floor. Soft shoes and the light weight of her body did not create even the tiniest tremble in the ground. Dancing side to side before the fire, Céyehne got her bearings quickly. Mapping out the space for which she had to move about the hearth, she made full use of it. Beginning to slowly integrate twirls, Céyehne’s supple form swayed and curved agilely, as was natural for her people. With the tapping of her new friend’s foot, it was easy to keep time and a steady beat; much easier than even her many practiced years dancing without accompaniment. Feet moving at twice the speed now, Céyehne simply glowed with delight. Keeping such time was easy for her; she was fit and beneath her small form she carried strong muscles for her size. Beaming at the boy playing beside her, Céyehne closed her eyes, hiding the bright blue orbs shimmering with glee.

Now, ginger lips pursed in concentration, though not enough to create lines on her smooth face. All color seemed to drain from her nearly colorless skin. Slender arms raised into the humid air, creating patterns echoing those of her feet. The movement was natural; she danced as though through water, shimmering in the firelight and as fluid as if she were weightless. She seemed to be attempting harmony with the lute-player’s fast-paced fingers. Now, her arms moved in independent patterns, and only the small woman truly understood their meaning. Focusing her will, now, she had learned the time and complicated rhythm, and no longer had to give it thought to keep up. Sweat forming now her thoughts rested elsewhere, Céyehne said a short prayer to Korenjah. Ah, the beautiful gift which came to naturally would surely awe her audience; hopefully it would even awe the skilled man playing beside her. If they were to be partners, surely a mutual respect should be formed?

Gathering shadows from far corners, Céyehne directed them as a maestro directing her orchestra. From within the logs, beneath chairs and tables, from rafters hung they flew to her, shadowing the ground beneath her and making her iridescent amongst them. Arms twisting with her body swift turns brought shadows spiraling around her tiny frame, accenting her already obvious curves, and emphasizing more complex spins at all the right moments. Pushing out when she spun, Céyehne’s shadows expanded around her feet, and as she danced minuscule steps near the fire, she reined them in closer to hug her feet. As a drip of sweat rolled down the back of her neck, thankfully hidden beneath her hair, Céyehne heard a gasp of breath from onlookers as the shadows danced with her. Inwardly she smirked. The lute played and Céyehne danced.
Logged

cry me a future where the revelations run amok.
Céyehne
Torscha
Wanderer
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 457


Human, Centoraurian


« Reply #12 on: December 04, 2007, 10:44:35 AM »

When the petite woman began to dance, Torscha's fingers faltered even as his heart missed a beat. Seemingly without effort, she synchronised herself fluidly with the chords of his music, form neatly filling the space his music had described. The hesitation was that of a miniscule fraction of a second; immediately after, he took up the refrain again with redoubled vigour. His first burst of virtuoso music had taken even him by surprise: it had rung out, as loud and clear as a challenge, with all the significance of the sound of a sword unsheathed. He had been answered in kind, with matching skill and talent.

Grinning appreciatively now, he threw out riff after riff, fingers describing complex patterns over the strings too fast for the eye to register, weaving complex harmonies into a throbbing, living whole, that pulsed and sang and resonated throughout the room. He fashioned glissandos of sound like the thrusts of a blade, feinting and weaving into complicated patterns. Every thrust she answered with an adroit shimmy of her supple figure, undulating with a feline grace that dried his throat and set his heart racing. With sight and sound they fenced, neither truly trying to break the other, but merely to tease out further heights of dazzling performance. She prompted him to describe in a ripple of sound his condition, heart-heaving and sweat-slickened; he led her to perform a certain sinuous movement that brought the patrons to their feet in a paroxysm of applause.

As much as could be described, they were dancing together now, his fingers and her feet. It was as if her nerve-ends and sinew lay at his fingertips, as if her hands overlaid his on the lute. Like one being they throbbed and twirled, feeding off one another's exuberant, blazing passion.

Then the shadows started to move. Slowly, at first, then with increasing sureness, they whirled about her, echoing and mirroring her movements, creating an entire cohort of flickering dancers, each weightless and somehow ephemeral, her glittering, evanescent form somehow every bit as untouchable and unreal as that of the shadows that danced around her.

Somehow, in some way, she's doing that, and doing that on purpose. It's more than talent, that's for certain, more than any amount of skill. I'm not sure that anyone else even notices, deep in their cups as they are, but that...

That's magic.


Abruptly, the song ended in discordant screech as his hand slipped and one of the strings, overtaxed by the fervid melody, snapped under the stress.

The silence that descended on the room had all the impact of an actual, physical blow. Torscha tried to smile, sheepishly, and spread his hands in a helpless shrug.

"Broke a string," he explained.

Amidst the grumbles, he sidled up to the dancer, and, without the slightest hint of irony, bowed low. "Lady, it has been an honour to perform with you." A moment's hesitance, before he continued, "And, if you'll forgive my presumption, I would dearly hope to again."
Logged

Céyehne
Simple Shadow
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 138


Human, Kasumarii


« Reply #13 on: December 04, 2007, 11:29:55 AM »

Dancing with all the love and enjoyment of a couples' first romance, Céyehne's feet moved in patterns she had not practiced previously. This man and his lute were bringing her dancing to knew heights, a performance she hoped would dearly compensate for the amount it cost her to find a ship up to this cold city. Her shadows moved now with little effort of her own will, as long as her hands kept the pattern, Korenjah blessed her with the upkeep of her shadows. She forced a smile. It was not hard, but she was starting to strain herself a bit with the fast movement. And to think! She hadn't formed any shapes or patterns within the shadows themselves, she hadn't even allowed them to cover her completely.. they were simply moving along the floor at her feet. This was nowhere near the peak of her ability, yet it seemed to be going so well!

Céyehne's dance stopped abruptly, all concentration breaking her shadows quickly dispersed. Not her usual style, Céyehne preferred allowing her will to slowly loosen its grip, shadows creeping slowly back into place in a much less obvious manner. Mostly, knowledge than she had any sort of magic ability got her into trouble. As she stared at her 'partner' incredulously, fear crept into her formerly bursting heart. Breathing hard, blood rushed to her face as she thought mayhap he had discovered the origin of her shadowy dancers, and wished to play with her no more. Crestfallen, she let her suspended arms drop to her sides. Opening her eyes, they actually began to water in all her frustration.

Now, as the man addressed her, bright-eyed and bleary she looked on. Grumbles from the crowd were obvious, and Céyehne wondered if any of the patrons noticed the abrupt brightening of the room. Sighing a little, Céyehne thought it a relief that a lute string broke, and he did not simply stop playing for another unknown reason. Peering at the boy intently, Céyehne said boldly, "Do ye now?" Raising an eyebrow skeptically, she skipped away from the fireplace as her blood seemed to boil. Was she imagining a new tone in his voice? Defeated now, Céyehne felt for the fan on her waist. In the past, those who had found she possessed the power of Shadowmancy took one of two roads: awe or fear. Sometimes a fearful awe, and rarely an awe coupled with excitement. Perhaps this was why, after so many seasons dancing, Céyehne had no partner nor accompaniment.

Convinced now that this man had taken a road of resentment, Céyehne wondered if he no longer respected her willingness to dance along with him. Whatever the case, she enjoyed those brief minutes before the fire, dancing with the mysterious lute-player, than any previous performance. Because of this, she put a small, pale hand on the man's arm. "Ain't ye wantin' t' sit an' talk? Can I perchas' ye a new strin' so ye can play again t'nigh'? Not purposely, Céyehne's voice had an almost pleading tone in it. She wanted a job here in the tavern, and she wanted to dance to that beautiful music again. More than that, Céyehne wondered if she simply wanted company.
« Last Edit: December 04, 2007, 11:32:38 AM by Céyehne » Logged

cry me a future where the revelations run amok.
Céyehne
Torscha
Wanderer
Approved Character
*
Offline Offline

Posts: 457


Human, Centoraurian


« Reply #14 on: December 04, 2007, 08:22:20 PM »

Torscha tried to keep his face straight, not betraying the electric jolt he felt as she touched him. "Most certainly I would, sweet lady. That was... phenomenal. I didn't know I had it in me, to be honest. You are most... inspiring." He grinned and hoped it didn't manifest as a leer. "Don't trouble yourself about the string; I've got spares. It'll just take me a while to restring the lute and tune it up. No worries.

"I'll not say no to a break, though; I feel I need to catch my breath. Old, dear lady, you are most certainly not! I was sitting down for the duration of that and find myself winded, but you, you were whirling and twirling and stand before me fresh as morning flowers! I am sure you'd give any sprightly lass a run for her money in vigour."
Then, belatedly realising that the last statement was vaguely lascivious, he hastily added, "On the dance floor, I mean.

"Come, Maryn might be more genially disposed towards us now that we've got her patrons slickening their throats. Vile as her ale is, after that song I must confess to feeling a little parched myself. I'll stand you another glass of whatever it is you prefer, although I must warn you that the spoiled grape juice that passes for wine here is probably brewed in the basement out of decade-old potato-leavings and rat's-tails.

"I wonder if you'll indulge my other profession for a moment? I fancy myself something of a storyteller and taleswapper."
His eyes narrowed slightly. He had never heard of any magic capable of bending shadows the way she had, and for someone born in Ximax, that was saying something. Then again, his attempt to recall what he knew of magery resulted in an intense headache, and the blossoming of fiery pain across his back, which suddenly felt taut and sore. "It strikes me that someone of your talent in this tiny and conflict-ridden town must certainly have an interesting tale to tell."
Logged

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 11   Go Up
Print
Jump to:  

Recent Posts
[July 30, 2021, 06:05:42 PM]

[July 30, 2021, 06:03:43 PM]

[July 30, 2021, 06:03:25 PM]

[July 30, 2021, 06:01:01 PM]

[February 12, 2021, 07:16:33 AM]

[December 13, 2020, 12:16:51 AM]

[December 13, 2020, 12:16:21 AM]

[October 05, 2020, 02:58:40 PM]

[March 19, 2020, 03:47:44 AM]

[July 23, 2019, 07:02:29 PM]
Members
Total Members: 2848
Latest: Carilinaa
Stats
Total Posts: 214567
Total Topics: 8051
Online Today: 22
Online Ever: 216
(November 30, 2006, 09:08:03 AM)
Users Online
Users: 0
Guests: 35
Total: 35

Powered by MySQL Powered by PHP Powered by SMF 1.1.21 | SMF © 2005, Simple Machines
TinyPortal v0.9.8 © Bloc
Valid XHTML 1.0! Valid CSS!
Theme based on Cerberus with Risen adjustments by Bloc and Krelia
Modified By Artimidor for The Santharian Dream
gfx
gfxgfx gfxgfx