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Author Topic: Chapter Two - All Aboard!  (Read 41423 times)
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fionn
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Mullog


« Reply #15 on: February 04, 2009, 05:25:02 AM »

Fionn hopped off the cart that had brought her to the docks, her working eye wide and glittering with excitement. She’d been down to the docks before, but the constant forest of masts prevented her from seeing anything much of the sea. Now was little different, but she knew soon she’d be beyond the harbour and out in the proper actual sea.

She’d woken early, unable to sleep with speculation about the adventure ahead, and it had occurred to her (in the way that such things occur when you’re staying in a strange house, awake in the early hours of the morning and listening to silence) that there would be animals living in the sea. Everyone knows, fish grow to fit the pools they live in. The sea is supposed to be absolutely huge, so how big will the fish be?

Rummaging in her pockets had yielded nothing appropriate for making an anti-being-eaten-by-giant-fish talisman, but an enquiry before setting off in the morning had unearthed a long slither of gnacker shell, which she was now industriously chipping at with her knife. It already had the sinuous, flowing shape she wanted, and she was halfway through the details when the cart stopped.

Hopping down, she looked around, wondering if she was the first arrival – the others had, after all, been talking about packing luggage and making provisions for animals, something which Fionn had no need for – everything she owned that didn’t fit in her pockets was stowed in a small bag, with plenty of room to spare.

Looking around, it appeared a couple of people had arrived. Fionn flashed an excited grin at them, and continued with her carving, wriggling her toes in the morning air.
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"If it's teeth are longer than your fingers, for the Ancestors' sake, assume it doesn't want it's belly tickled..."
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Ylva Rasmussan
Oddball Healer
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Human, Murmillion.


« Reply #16 on: February 04, 2009, 09:35:41 AM »

It was only the sound of ringing in Ylva's ears that awoke her from her short short slumber during  the carriage journey.

 After the doctor had left the inn in the early hours of the morning, she'd been escorted back to the party by Jorn's servant. Sleep never appeared as Ylva lay awake for the rest of the night, the comfy bed only making her feel more out of place. Her brain felt fuzzy from lack of sleep, the ringing bell sound clearing it a bit. Still not having been able to track down a comb, her hair seemed determined to stage its daily morning rebellion and seek independence from Ylva's scalp.

Her eyes opened, and worn out looking big hazel eyes peered out at the world. Her nose smelt through the murky fog, the strange concoction of rotting seaweed and salt, that all old harbours seem to smell of. Her own thoughts cast her mind back into the realm of memories....of a different harbour...The last time, the only time, you were on a boat, you were arriving in Strata,  you hardly even spoke the language. Now two years later and you are leaving yet again....always moving, dancing and chasing after the dreamer as she just hints at her plans for you....perhaps you are going mad...look at you...you're listening to voices inside you're head....

Ylva shook her head as if to rid herself of those thoughts, deciding that perhaps her lack of sleep had been very unwise. The petite woman ambled off the carriage with her stuff, spotting her fellow healer-in-arms Fionn. Ylva smiled back and nodded towards her, as she shuffled stuff around in her medical kit, checking that everything was accounted for. Strange metalic implements clanged against several large sticky jar of strange substances. Bags of petals and leaves lay squashed at the bottom. The roll of bandages had now unrolled and entwined itself with the silkel thread. Her long fingers became busy trying to untangle the mess, a rather sly but warm smile reached her lips as her strange voice called out amongst the foggy air towards the small fellow healer, “Ready to set sail?”

« Last Edit: February 05, 2009, 12:40:39 AM by Ylva Rasmussan » Logged
Malavon Despana
Wizard's Bane
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Maelf , Helcrani Sanhorrhim


« Reply #17 on: February 04, 2009, 03:06:39 PM »

It was morning , but Malavon stayed awoke great part of the night , was he excited about the jorney ?

Not one bit , for him kill a mage or getting paid to chase after children stories was the same , he never made false assumptions about himself , he was a killer , a sword for hire , sure he had a conscience that kept him from being a total assassin , but nevertheless he still was what he was ...
Emerald eyes looked around , men were carrying boxes into the ship , the time was drawing near , and the taught of having to voyage with this people , to trust them was sickening to Mal , he just didn´t like people ...

As a carriage arrived he saw the first two of his voyage companions , the little green creature and an older woman , shaking his head , he taught to himself " I wonder what use these two have ? Of course there must something more than meets the eye", taking Zaroc out , the dark sword gave gave strange glows as the morning sun hit her , passing a finger on the blade , Malavon watched sadly as a drop of blood hit the ground , "It seems were destined to fight again , you didn´t stayed cleaned for very long old friend ...".

Putting back his sword into the hilt , Malavon walked slowly towards the two women and approaching them he said " Good morning , it seems we are the first to arrive no ? "
Truth be told , Malavon was the first to arrive , after all he spent the night next to the boat , so the aspect he presented was far from , how to say , good ...
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Ill give you a moment to comfort each others before I end your pathetic lives !!

Malavon The Mage Killer
Koka Bentarm
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« Reply #18 on: February 04, 2009, 09:53:03 PM »

Koka clambered out of the carriage that Jorn had graciously provided. Her belongings were gathered in the knapsack on her shoulder - with some arrows from Jorn's armoury added. Her bow she carried habitually in her left hand, while her right hand grabbed the strings of the knapsack. The elbow throbbed a little bit, but she assumed that it had to do with the fog that was retreating, so it should be fine soon enough.

What was not fine was the sight of all the ships gathered in the harbour here, one bigger than the other, and she just knew that they were going to board the biggest one. She had slept tolerably well, and she had stuck to one brandy last night so she did not have her usual morning headache, which was probably just as well. If she had to add a throbbing head to her throbbing arm and throw that at the sight of the ships, she would not be able to actually board the damned thing. On the other hand though, if she had had enough brandy that she was still drunk, it might have helped her fluttering nerves. She decided then and there that she did *not* like ships.

She joined the others who were already waiting at the quay for the moment they could actuall get on board. She was just in time to hear one of the women in the party ask the small mullog girl if she was ready to set sail. Koka almost grumbled that she most certainly was not, but decided at the last moment that since the question was not directed at her, she shouldn't answer it. Instead, she looked over the companions that had arrived already. The prickly-tempered man that she didn't like was there, as well as the mullog and the foreign-looking woman with her fancy necklace (though she didn't appear to be wearing it now). The latter had quite a head full of hair that seemed to have a will of its own. Setting her bow down next to her foot, she took her knapsack and rummaged in it for a moment. Her hand emerged holding an ivory comb, a two-sided one. One side had large pins, to get the worst tangles out of hair (or a beard), the other side's pins were quite a lot more elegant and served for the finer work, the finishing touches - in her case, usually the braiding.

However, she did not take the comb out for herself, since she had meticulously checked the small braids in her hair and they still seemed to be fine. Rather, she extened the comb towards the foreign woman. With her typical bluntness, she said: "Here, use this. You look like you could use it." It was not maliciously meant, on the contrary, but it came out rather more insultingly than she meant. The wink that she added to her words might or might not help to soften the words.
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fionn
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Mullog


« Reply #19 on: February 05, 2009, 02:59:06 AM »

“Ready to set sail?”

Fionn looked up from her carving, smiled widely and nodded at Ylva. As the woman rummaged in her bag, Fionn caught the familiar scents of various medicines, and found herself wondering for the first time just how dangerous this could be. Quite apart from giant sea monsters and faraway lands, this was a bunch of people who’d never met, and who were definitely not all as agreeable as you might hope. Her point was underlined by the approach of a moody-looking man she recognised from last night.

"Good morning, it seems we are the first to arrive no?"

The amulet was finished. She held it up to the early morning light, and tested the point against her thumb. It was a fishhook, shaped like a great angular sea serpent, serrated fins forming the perfect edge for catching and holding a fish. With a practiced movement she looped a piece of twine around it, and set it in the palm of her hand.

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry, mister, I didn’t catch your name last night. I’m Fionn.”

She flashed him a sharp-toothed grin, before taking off her headscarf (the yellow one, with the silver ‘broidery round the edges) and used it to polish the amulet.

The dwarf (Koka? maybe.)had arrived when she looked up, and was talking to Ylva, offering a comb (what an effort people put into hair! We’re well out of that.).
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"If it's teeth are longer than your fingers, for the Ancestors' sake, assume it doesn't want it's belly tickled..."
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Rhia
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« Reply #20 on: February 06, 2009, 12:39:08 PM »

She'd never slept better in her life. ...Alright, that was an exaggeration, but exaggeration was Rhia's middle name. After her orgy with the wine, her brain was more than ready to shut down once on the pillow -Ah, and a soft, sumptuous pillow it was.

Yet, in the morning, how could she feel so completely and utterly different from last night? Her illness was very serious, and she almost thought she would die from it- throbbing, aching head, infinitely thirsty mouth and throat, fast pulse, and sweaty hands. And worse- when she'd gotten up to get dressed, she found that the light hurt her eyes, stabbed them as if cruel knives. This, she believed, meant that she was going blind, only to realize that her sight was staying the same and not decreasing. Even standing made her stomach roil and pitch, just like the sea she grew up by. Even now Rhia realized that the second half of the night, she did not sleep as deeply as the first. What on earth was this strange and terrible illness? In a second she knew that it must have been that last piece of beef she had wolfed down. Of course! It was so obvious. So... Obviously the lesson was, Never eat beef from this part of the country.

She gathered her bags and stepped out of the carriage that had taken her to the quay, and her increasingly bad mood lightened a little. It was warm, (after all, it was the month of the Burning Heavens). The clearing fog hinted at a whitish blue sky beyond, and though the air was a bit damp, it was clearly drying up, which cheered up Rhia even more. The last thing she wanted was for her panpipes and lute to warp. She began to heave her bags up, only to realize that Hoof was not there to carry the load for her. They dropped heavily to the ground.

Hoof. She'd left him in Uncle Jorn's stables. On her way out, she'd taken a look back at the brown donkey. Dirt brown, and might as well be worth it. But nonetheless, in all the songs that had partings in them, the parting parties always had tender farewells. Rhia had figured that she could do no worse, and, her expression softening, had walked back over to him. Kneeling, she scratched behind his ear. "Goodbye, Hoof. Only time will tell if I'll live to see y-" Her soft, dramatic farewell was jerked to a halt by a sudden, incredibly painful pain in the hand on Hoof's ear. She knew that pain. It came from a certain ungrateful miserable (expletives) worthless pelt of dirt that I never should have bought. Now that was definitely not the way goodbyes went in all the old ballads. When would life get it right for once and go along with what the ballads said?

Rhia was weak from labor for the traveling R'unorian performing group the previous year, but she had only one bag to carry, so she found little difficulty carrying it. Besides, she was traveling light for this journey: a few pairs of riding breeches and tunics, one kirtle, waterskins, and her instruments, as well as a few other bare necessities (you know- comb, hair trappings, underclothes, et cetera et cetera et cetera). The rest of her belongings were left at Uncle Jorn's estate, where he would store them until her return (her magnificent, glory-stuffed return, must never ever forget that).

So she lugged -ahem, took, for surely Rhia never lugged- her bundle onto the wharf, where she spotted several others from the night before. She arrived in time to see the bushy-bearded dwarf offer the rather weary-looking woman a comb -Odd, a male dwarf noticing a female's hair condition- though she could not hear what was being said. Approaching the two was Sir Despana. All three looked rather bleary. (Perhaps they too had eaten some of the beef last night.)

The ships in the harbor were a familiar sight. They and the salty air finally hit Rhia, bringing with it memories of home- performing the panpipes for Father, playing Baveras' Will with Seli as a child. Composing songs by the fickle, mercurial sea. Not all were pleasant, though. Not all, indeed. Some brought dark thoughts of Mother.

Ack! Why did Mother always have to come up in her thoughts? Didn't she invade her life enough in R'unor? To an onlooker, Rhia's grey eyes might have seemed to churn angrily, not unlike the frothy sea. What with the curious beef illness, and angry thoughts of her Mother, Rhia's head felt about ready to split open. Angry. Anger. Frustration. She had never been particularly good at recognizing and dealing with her emotions, but she distinguished this one easily enough. She didn't want her adventure, possibly the only adventure that might occur in her life, to start out this way. Humming a few bars of a song, itching to take her panpipes out of her bag, Rhia tried to make her feelings dissipate. Grey eyes, framed by thick lashes, momentarily closed against the harsh morning sun that peered through the fog.
« Last Edit: February 06, 2009, 01:12:00 PM by Rhia » Logged

Ylva Rasmussan
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« Reply #21 on: February 07, 2009, 03:56:28 AM »

The small healer's beaming grin answered to Ylva's query perfectly. The hobbit creature seemed to be looking forward to this adventure, more than the murmillion anyway, whose apprehension and worries still rumbled around in her stomach. Another one of the group made their way towards them, Ylva spotted him sheathing a rather sharp looking short sword made out of black iron, nice sword, seems to fit the man who likes to sculk in corners...Jorn said his name was...Malavon? "Good morning, it seems we are the first to arrive no?"
 
Ylva just nodded, his somewhat friendly greeting had put the woman a bit off balance, she'd been expecting a more mystic and enigmatic introduction from the man. Fionn was introducing herself to the man, as Ylva spotted the dwarf from last night, Koka?...Jorn called the dwarf that, making his way towards them.

 The dwarf seemed to be looking through his bags for something. Ylva had finished separating the silkel thread and bandages. As they were being placed neatly back inside her satchel, a comb suddenly came floating into Ylva's line of sight. Her big eyes looked up to see that it was being offered to her by the dwarf, Koka. "Here, use this. You look like you could use it."

Ylva's eyes examined the comb for a moment, as if it was going to jump out the dwarf's hand and attack her in the face. But it just seemed like a normal comb, a rather beautiful ivory comb, but still just a comb all the same. Strange for him to be carrying such a pretty comb...The murmillion took the comb out the dwarf's hand, “Erm....Thank you. Koka, is it? I'm Ylva.”

Ylva's brow frowned in frustration as she managed to pull out all the tangles and knots, and suppress her hair's resistance enough to get it to go back into a neat bun. Or as close to a neat bun as Ylva could manage, before she passed the comb back to the dwarf. Another of the guests from last night arrived, this time the young girl, who Jorn had referred to as Rhia, Strange, seems like only yesterday I was her age....though I never had hair as pretty as that...she looks in need of a hangover cure...don't want her being sick on the deck....

The murmillion pulled herself up onto her feet. Due her height being precisely 1 Ped, 1 Fore, 2 Palmspans and 4 Nailsbreadths, this didn't make her look very imposing. She turned towards the young woman, “Bad head ache?” she suggested while raising one of her eyebrows at her in curiousity.
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Hylphán
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« Reply #22 on: February 07, 2009, 04:39:31 PM »

Hylphán had thoroughly enjoyed the night in a "real" bed.  He had not slept that comfortably in a long while.  Even so, it may have been the unfamiliarity of luxurious accommodations that woke him early the next morning, just before daybreak.  He was not surprised to find a servant outside his door inquiring if he would like a hot bath and some breakfast.
     After reveling in a hot bath and getting dressed,he was escorted by the servant to a small (by Jorn's standards) dining room where he broke his fast with some eggs, several steaming hot, very spicy sausages, and  a selection of fresh fruits - several of which he tucked in the bag at his side for later.
     Hylphán went back to his room, where all his belongings had been delivered the night before, and unpacked and inventoried everything - including the two quivers of fine arrows he had aquired from Jorn's armory.  The clothing he had asked for had been folded up neatly on the table in the corner, and he packed them in his bag, deciding to dress in his seafaring clothing for the trip.  Everything he deemed unnecessary for this trip he packed in a separate bag and left on the bed.  He knew the servants would store the items for him.
     Eventually everyone else had been roused, bathed and fed, as the mood struck them, and they were ready to board the coach for the harbor.  Hylphán got a different view of the others this morning.  The older woman was definitely having a bad hair day, and the younger one was obviously regretting last night's repast.  The dwarf seemed to get a little skittish after arriving at the harbor,not surprisingly.  He knew many dwarves were hesitant about sea voyages, something about not being able to feel the earth firmly beneath their feet made them nervous.  Malavon had been on the pier when the coach arrived, waiting for the rest, or so it seemed.
     Hylphán was ready to get to sea again, even though he had just arrived by boat the day before.  There was nothing like the smell of fresh salt spray in your face and the wind in your hair!  And this time he would be a passenger, something he was unaccustomed to.  It would give him time to do a few carvings on the trip.
« Last Edit: February 07, 2009, 04:42:37 PM by Hylphán » Logged

Fair winds and following seas till our paths cross again.

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Royce Brodlyn Kristoph
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« Reply #23 on: February 08, 2009, 12:02:52 AM »

As the carriage rumbled along, provided by Ranskjun, Royce's head kept nodding forward slowly, then with a quick jerk that brought him out of his nap, making him sit up straight and glancing about to see if the other guests had noticed.  This had happened a few times in the relatively short trip from Ranskjun's house to the harbour.

Royce had gotten next to no sleep the night before.  By the time he had transferred Manowar, Dani and the hound Jayupp from the stables at the inn to Ranskjun's stables, it had started to get very late late.  Then, worse, he had tried to leave, wanting to get some sleep in the big house, but every time he tried, Jayupp would start to howl, forcing him to calm the animal.  He dared not just walk away, for he knew his companions on this quest would appreciate the howling as much as the innkeeper did.  And the gods knew how long he was going to be stuck with them.  Best not to start off on the wrong foot.

So, Royce's night had been spent curled up in a pile of straw in the stables, which might not have been so bad, as he had spent many a night in worse places.  However, it seemed as though the hound had known that Royce had planned to leave him, and kept licking Royce's face with his long slobbery tongue every time the man started to slumber.

Still, and Royce shuddered at the memory, that was not the worst part of the night.  In the wee hours of the morning, Royce had a visitor.  At first he had assumed the hound had woken someone, but no, that was not it at all.  Through the stable doors, carrying a large bottle of brandy, was Arnanra, the woman from last night.  Together they shared a drink, just to keep off the night chill, then another, and another.  Then, with each sip, Royce noticed a very strange thing.  Arnanra began to shapeshift, becoming more and more attractive.  She was a witch, it would seem, and she bewitched him, muddling his mind and making him do horrible things, as for one thing led to another and....

The carriage came to a stop and Royce hurriedly climbed out and rushed to the wharf.  Dropping to his knees, he threw his head out over the water, and emptied his stomach.  The smell of stale alcohol only made him retch more.  This was not how he had envisioned starting the trip.
« Last Edit: February 08, 2009, 07:28:15 AM by Royce Brodlyn Kristoph » Logged

Royce

Violence is not the answer.  But, it will buy you time to think of one.
fionn
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Mullog


« Reply #24 on: February 11, 2009, 04:42:41 AM »

Before the moody-looking man could reply, a few more people turned up, the latter of which left the cart at a commendable pace, managing to reach the quayside just in time to enrich the waters.

Fionn sighed, and stood up, rummaging in pockets, giving Ylva a good-naturedly resigned look, and muttering, half to herself, “and so it begins…“ scurrying across, she stepped quietly up to the man, who she remembered from last night as Royce, and offered him a flask of water to wash his mouth out, having to stand on tiptoe to get the bottle within his line of sight. She also absent-mindedly caught a hold of the back of his shirt, as she’d seen people follow their lost lunches off balconies, down steps, even off bridges, and didn’t greatly fancy fishing a man who looked to be three times her size and weight out of the sea.

“You look terrible, in my professional opinion. Here, have some water and I hope to the Ancestors you don’t get seasick, ‘cos I’m all out of nausea remedies.”

She half turned back to the others, and rolled her eyes at Ylva with a mischievous grin.
“I don’t s’pose you’ve got anything on hand, Miss Ylva?”
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"If it's teeth are longer than your fingers, for the Ancestors' sake, assume it doesn't want it's belly tickled..."
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Ylva Rasmussan
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Human, Murmillion.


« Reply #25 on: February 11, 2009, 01:09:44 PM »

Ylva hadn't noticed as one of the fellow passengers had gone running towards the side of harbour to deposit the rest of last night's meal. Her ears vaguely heard something in the background, “Ancestors you don’t get seasick, ‘cos I’m all out of nausea remedies.”

“I don’t s’pose you’ve got anything on hand, Miss Ylva?”

“Hmm?” Came the sound from the woman's mouth, as her head whipped round like lightning to see Fionn grinning mischievously at her. Next to the small one, was Royce, oh, look its the more-dangerous-brownies guy....and he appears to be emptying his entire stomach contents into the ocean.....

“Oh.” Was all the only word that accompanied the intake of this new information into Ylva's brain.....some bloody healer I am, not noticing that....... Ylva quickly scrambled through her pack, tossing things out the way, including the following; a strange pair of metal pliers, a glass jar of moth's wings, a rather sad looking squashed bunch of leaves, a ragged old notebook with blood stains on it, and a small wooden box which actually contained a living Drape-Silk spider that Ylva had affectionately named Hildegarde, after her mother.

Waterstar? no that's a laxative, Nightshade, no, Crimson rose? Hmm...no, ah Dreamer's Breath, that'd help, but how am I going to brew tea out here? Deer Tree, no. Falserock......hmm...ah Ginger....

Ylva knelt down next to Fionn as she held up a small rumpled bag of crystallized ginger and a strange blackened lump in her long bony fingers, before placing them on the ground in front of her, “Falserock, to stop pain in stomach. Ginger, to stop seasickness.”

This was the first time Ylva had got the chance to take a good look at Fionn in daylight. She didn't seem to be a hobbit, though Ylva still wasn't sure what she was. The female appeared to be bald under her headscarf, and had dark scarring across one side of her face. Curious, but now is not the time to ask about it. Ylva glanced over at the puking figure, “Best let him get rid of it before trip.”
« Last Edit: February 11, 2009, 01:12:55 PM by Ylva Rasmussan » Logged
KaskaChee
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Brownie, Mud Rat


« Reply #26 on: February 11, 2009, 10:22:36 PM »

The rays of daylight slowly became strong enough to pierce the depths of the cargo hold, and roused the yellow-white rat from its untroubled sleep.  The animal's delicate pink nose twitched, once, twice, its whiskers trembling as if they were touched by the lightest of breezes.  Devil-Red eyes opened suddenly, and it stretched, moving gently off its still-sleeping mistress and stepping silently away in search of a tasty morcel or two.

Kaska woke with a jolt, the kind of jolt you get when you didn't really want to fall asleep in the first place and as soon as you wake enough to realise you were asleep, the shock spurs your mind into full consciousness.  The ugly little Brownie jumped immediately up, searching for the danger her body had already begun reacting to, and then cramp seared through her left foot.  Letting out a tiny little cry she hopped up and down on the right one, mumbling a hissing stream of curses towards her foraging mount and shaking her left foot vigorously to encourage the blood back into it.  As the pain gradually died, she turned her attention back to the room, the memories of last night rushing back to her.

Where was the noisy-breathed God-Man?  Kaska froze, regretting the tiny noises she had been making.  Had they woken him?  But no...they were barely louder than the creak of the boat beneath them and the slapping of the waves on the sides.  The movement had surely given her a really restful feeling, as she would never normally sleep as deep as she had.  The rocking was..well, comforting in some ways.  But this was no time to get side-tracked.  Where was he? And what was that horrible smell?  It was...pungent, acidic, with food-like overtones.  It reminded her of toilets at the back of taverns which were so dirty even she would avoid them, or the occasional heap of particularly revolting waste she would find in the sewers. The Brownie moved quietly around the side of the large crate, poking her head out briefly before pulling back.  When she spotted his still form, she let out a breath of relief and stepped fully into the increasingly-light area between the boxes.

That was where the smell was coming from - the inert human.  She moved closer, investigating.  Well, at least she could now tell what that smell was - human vomit.  It smelt different to Brownie vomit in her opinion, or at least different to her own.  Possibly it was their diet, based on bread and milk products.  Strange.  He seemed to have thrown up and then fallen into it.   God-Man was ill!  Really badly ill.  He needed help, and she really didn't have a lot of herbs and healing things to help him.  She would have to go find some, as quickly as possible.  Perhaps there would be supplies in the crates?  It seemed unlikely, as she hadn't smelt anything other than food and drink, and medicines would be too precious to leave down here, wouldn't they?  These humans could be weird.  But she should trust her nose, and that meant searching elsewhere.

Kaska quickly began to look for a way out of the room, something other than the heavy, immovable hatch.  The light streaming in to the little room gave reminded her to look upwards.  The window! Maybe she would be able to force it open in some way, perhaps the glass was loose in its frame.  She looked at the distance between the top of the crate and the indent around the frame.  It was too far for her to jump, not without the serious possibility of missing and breaking several of her precious limbs.  Her sharp eyes quickly picked out the lightest source of rope in the room....the thick black hair growing out of the God-man's head.

The little Brownie scampered back to where she had inadvertently fallen asleep and picked up the dagger and pack which had been left there, taking them back beside the unconscious man.  One oversized hand began rooting in the bottom of the bag, removing a small, flattened stone and a worn piece of leather.  Picking up the blade, she sharpened the already-lethal blade for a few minutes, before replacing the tools.  She stepped carefully and silently up to the black-haired human, manouevering herself so that she could easily reach the lock of hair above his left ear which was protruding from his green felt hat.  Kaska pulled the lock straight outwards, not tugging, but holding it tightly for the next step.  The dagger flashed out and cut the whole lock as close to the roots as she could.  Black hairs toppled into her fingers and she snatched them up.

The Rat Brownie settled herself down beside another crate and laid the shining black lengths on the floor nearby.  Her delicate, dexterous hands picked up the strands one by one and quickly wove and twisted them together so they gradually turned from separate pieces into one long rope.  Well, not that long, because the God-Man didn't have very long hair, but long enough to help her reach the window.  Talking the long black rope and tucking the dagger into a strip of cloth around her hips, she clambered up onto the box which was nearest to the glass.  The Brownie tied one end of the hair string tightly to the handle of the dagger, aimed carefully at a point just under the window, and threw the spike-like weapon as hard as she could into the splintering wood.

She shinnied up the rope and pulled herself onto the ledge she was aiming for.  Another hissing curse announced her discovery that the window was well fitted and its glass immovable.  But, what was this?  There were moving shapes on the harbour bank, people, big people.  Kaska couldn't really see much through the poor quality glass with its bumps and deformations, but she could pick out the figures as blurs of colour.   One of them rushed from a larger, squarer blur, a sort of brownish hue, towards the blue mass of the water.  Was he vomiting?  Kaska thought so.  After a few moments another vertical blur approached him, handing something over?  She thought so.  Her redish eyes flickered from the distorted scene to the God-Man, and then back again.  Was that a cure?  A remedy?  It was worth investigation at least.  If she could get out of this room.

A sudden squeaking from down at the corner of the room drew her gaze - her white mount had found another less tame rat.  Of course!  The tunnels!  There must be rats all over this rich boat, making tunnels just the right size for her to creep through.  Quickly she gathered up her belongings and clambered down onto the floor again.  But then she paused.  What would the God-Man do if he woke up and was still ill?  He could panic, or try and go out to search for help, and if she didn't give him the help then he wouldn't agree to show her how he did the magic.  How could she let him know that she was on the case?  Kaska took up her dagger once more, and began to scratch deep into the wooden floor.  She made three of the sacred runes that the Brownie Shaman used to record really important things, the ones which the spirits could read too.

(I/Me/Kaska) (fetch/find/gather/collect) (healing vegetation)

If he couldn't read them, then the god or spirit that gave him those powers would be able to tell him what they meant.  She paused, and after a second's thought scrawled a crude drawing below them with a little stick figure of her holding some herbs.  Ok, so the herbs were a little too big in proportion to make them recognisable as plants, but it was the best she could really do scratching into the wood.  She'd done it as close to his head as possible, without actually being in the vomit. 

Hoping that God-Man would be pleased with her efforts, she picked up everything and scurried into the tunnel, whistling for her rat to follow her.
« Last Edit: February 12, 2009, 04:31:14 AM by KaskaChee » Logged

Rhia
Songbird of the Sea
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Human, Blaar'kr


« Reply #27 on: February 12, 2009, 08:41:28 AM »

"Bad headache?"

Seli? Seli! Rhia's eyes unshuttered, flying open. THe woman standing before her was not, as she had hoped, her sister, but rather the woman who had been approached with a comb. And yet, the wry but kind voice was so similar, so soft like her sister's!...

First thoughts of Mother, then Father's favorite song, now Seli. Why, it's a whole family reunion inside my head. ...Don't they know that I have a hard enough time keeping track of what goes on in there already?

Rhia faced the woman and tried to smile. "Yes." Now she discovered a new difficulty. It seemed that her tongue was no longer willing to do as she wanted and had broken into open rebellion. It was heavy and thick in her mouth and tripped her up even as she spoke that simple word. "The beef really got to me. By the way, I'm Rhia..." She trailed off and watched as the woman rushed, fiddling with items in her bag, to a man - the man who had been concerned about his animals (Baveras, but I've got to find something else to call him than these annoying little description names)- with his head over the dock's edge. By his side was the small, child-like creature -Alright, really really have to quit this habit. It's getting very annoying-, who had called the woman over. Sounds carried unpleasantly and clearly over the air, leaving no doubt as to what was going on between the man, his stomach, and the sea.

The woman who had spoken momentarily to Rhia called out orders for something... plantish-sounding. She caught the word "waterstar" but no more. Waterstar... The flower of Baveras. She wondered what part it played in their conversation, then sent up a brief prayer to Baveras at the thought of the goddess.

Rhia studied the woman. She had accepted the dwarf's comb and had now reined her dark hair into an unforgiving bun. She looked more professional now -Rhia rather suspected that she had an official job of some sort- but Rhia thought, as she watched her intently, that she rather liked her better when her hair was down. Well, perhaps a compromise. A braid, or half-ponytail, perhaps? ...Rhia decided to bring it at a time when the woman was less busy.

Now she noticed that although they were tired, the woman's caramel-brown, hazel eyes were also kind. The shadows underneath them and the dark, thick eyebrows above only magnified them and made their color even more lovely. If first appearances were anything to go by, Rhia was already quite fond of the woman... even though she didn't even know her name yet!

Rhia's head throbbed again, and she grimaced. Where was Jorn, wasn't he going to see them off? What were they waiting for?
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Malavon Despana
Wizard's Bane
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Maelf , Helcrani Sanhorrhim


« Reply #28 on: February 12, 2009, 12:13:50 PM »

As the rest of the group started to arrive , Malavon patience was growing thin , not only they took their sweet time to arrive but some of them were still feeling the hangover from the night before , namely Royce and Rhia , was he supposed to trust these people , someone that didn´t have the professionalism to appear at least sober ?

Seeing as the older woman that Jorn called Ylva offering them something for their aches , Malavon narrowing his eyes taught to himself "Now I get it , an healer , well we will be needing those , and look it seems the hobbit Fionn is also one , for they sake , they best be curing them with potions and not with magic , I have seen clerics use it before and maybe these one can too i´d hate to see burn before the trip begins ..."

Now this something Malavon didn´t ask before , what if mages were in the group ?
Of course Jorn knew how Malavon became known for , but nonetheless .. observing the group , nothing in them made him think otherwise , but just to be sure he promised himself to look more carefully the healer ...
Approaching Ylva , he asked "Maybe I can help , I have seen many times how the healers work , too many times ...", his voice was colder than he expected but he already said before he could retract himself ...

« Last Edit: February 12, 2009, 12:15:54 PM by Malavon Despana » Logged

Ill give you a moment to comfort each others before I end your pathetic lives !!

Malavon The Mage Killer
Valyssa
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« Reply #29 on: February 12, 2009, 06:33:38 PM »

It was not uncommon for the mercenary to be up before daybreak, yet somehow the comforts of an actual bed had kept her there much longer than customary. Evidently Jorn had sent a carriage to take Jen to the docks, a luxury the warrioress was not frequently afforded. There had been much she had intended to do in these early hours but with the vehicles arrival she was now stressed for time, even with being well rested. Luckily the Remusian had gone to bed prematurely after putting Gorgoth to respite in the stables and setting out her equipment in an orderly fashion on the floor.

Just as she had done for near two decades the Swiftsword set about arming herself. Beginning with her feet she laced on leather boots, snapping each clasp of her armor as she worked from tiny feet to her petite waistline. It was not distinct from any other day she had spent in the garrison; minus the fact Injera had already nurtured its radiance. Like clockwork Jenlyn strapped the remaining pieces of her armaments over the nor’sidian jerkin taking a few blinks to tighten and check each clasp with expertise. Although it was an extraordinary lavishness the Remusian even paused a few moments to brush her lengthy locks with the recently acquired comb.

With a resolute admonishment she nonchalantly gathered the saddlebags, containing the remainder of her gear from the headboard. A whimsical smiled splayed over her supple lips as stormy gray eyes wandered over the comfortable bed she had slept in. Jenlyn could not recall a time such generous quarters could be called her own, nor was she disillusioned into thinking they would be hers again in the near future. A memory best held for a sweltering night in the drizzling rain whilst sitting under the moon awaiting the coming of her enemies. With the image stowed away in her mind Jen slung the bags over an armored shoulder, marching towards the door and the first leg of the journey. 

The little trip in the carriage left Jen to contemplate the identical issues that had plagued her dreams the night previous. Who was to be respected enough to make decisions? Although the elderly man had spiked her angst with his words of doubt, they were not ones to be ignored either. He had made valid points and were not ideas she did not share with him, she had led men before and carried similar doubts about those under her command. Was he to be looked at for leadership? Jorn seemed to view him in such a light.

What of Koka? The diminutive man seemed well versed in the ways of the hunt. Such skills were invaluable in many ways, he could find quarry when needed, even food. It never hurts to know the number and direction of your adversary with the skill to kill them at range. Were his words only quotations of knowledge or earned under the harshness of reality? Jenlyn pondered the dwarf for a few moments more and reconciled that firsthand observations would be needed. But if the man were all that she perceived he would be a precious asset in the survival of the team as a whole.

Casually Jen peered out the window of the carriage the memory of the cold man with hollow eyes and bitter temper prancing about on the edges of her mind. Could or should he be trusted? Just because a man would kill on a moments notice, did not make him of value. Gingerly a calloused hand slid to respite upon the warsword on her hip, caressing the length of the hilt lovingly. Sometimes a killer was simply that, a soul without purpose murdering indiscriminately and at their leisure. Decidedly, he was to be watched, restrained or dispatched if necessary. Preferably, his bloodlust fell only on those deemed as foes, but there was no way to say that with assurance at this point.

The sight of Ciosa’s docks in the early morning was astonishing to say the least. They were a bustle of activity that would overwhelm the mind with their complexities. Near a hundred ships of a plethora of sizes, shapes and lands of origin, a veritable trading ground of the unusual and exotic.

Surprisingly the carriage came to a stop and a voice rang out from above declaring their arrival. The Remusian remembered a few others from the night prior but had drawn very little of their value to this journey. This morning and the coming days would be her chance to ascertain the importance of each to the expedition. Jorn might be arrogant, brash and a wee-bit self-centered but he had gained his worldly riches on a sharp mind. With that thought in hand Jenlyn stepped out of the vehicle and strode towards the gathering, all seemed to be awaiting the escort from port. Wandering eyes began to survey the magnificence of the ship in the distance but more acutely they studied those already gathered. Such a menagerie of people, it was difficult for the Swiftsword to consider the worth of some of them.

Standing near the edge of the dock Jenlyn cast them a smile and a light giggle before bowing graciously towards the crowd. The entire throng was enough to make Jen's snickers genuine and quite impossible to control. Even after rising to face them all, a petite hand lifted, stifling a wave of earnest merriment. The mercenaries pallid cheeks turning a robust hue of karikrimson.    
« Last Edit: February 12, 2009, 09:05:28 PM by Twén Aråerwén » Logged
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