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Author Topic: An Adventure in Black - Chapter II  (Read 31903 times)
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Tak
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« Reply #60 on: April 07, 2012, 12:12:19 PM »

"He will not harm you. Unless you throw... that at him." Irid said, staying Tak’s hand before hopping out of his cart. 

“So, the lizard is your friend?  Interesting.  I wonder if he would let me study him.  I may not be much of a biologist, but the stuffy old gnomes back in Goltherlon would kill to see this!  I wonder if I can collect some scales…” Tak muttered to himself as Irid and walked around to the side.

"I think you should... talk to my employer. Tell her about... the man in black." 

“Ahh I almost forgot about him!  Do you think she knows who he is?  I do need the flask back.” Tak hopped off his cart and followed the elf. “Buttons, stay!” He caked back over his shoulder.

The elf was already half way over to the other cart, Tak needed to jog to keep up with her. 

Tak climbed up on top of the other cart and waved“Hello Miss.  My name is Ptergub Takigmin – The Magnificent!  You can call me Tak.  This elf here,” Tak gestured toward Irid “said you might know who that man in black was?  Angry man, summoned strange creatures with red eyes.”

Tak lacked a sense of discretion and everyone who had gathered could hear him.

“He took something of mine, very dangerous.  I would like to get it back. Do you know where he is?”
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"There’s Nothing Worth Doing That Isn’t Worth Overdoing" - Tak "The Magnificent"
Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #61 on: April 07, 2012, 11:35:13 PM »

From a nearby small clump of golden bell bushes a quavery old female voice said, "what do I need to do to get some sleep around this place? The talking, the flashes, the noises, the light, all of it is too much for me."

As it seemed unlikely that the bush could speak, it could probably be surmissed that this was from a person. And sure enough, there were trappings of a person around the clump of golden bell bushes. Those trappings included a pair of sandles, a staff, and the odd pouch here and there.

A wizened old face, smeared with mud, and with hair that was unkempt emerged from beneath the bushes, and this was soon followed by the rest of her body, a roughly spun dress covered her from her neck to halfway down her lower legs, and her wrists. Her hands were stained with mud and green. The green could have been folliage. She didn't smell none too good either, and she seemed to be cross eyed.

Reaching down, she picked up her pouches and tied them off her rope belt. She then slipped her sandals on her feet and picked up her staff, and she said, "and now you've gone and woken us up, haven't they dearest?"

She turned and spoke to the air next to her.

"Well," she said, "what do you lot have to say to dearest and myself?"
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Seeking the truth, whatever the cost! - Deklitch Hardin, Elf Friend
Alýr (Rayne)
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« Reply #62 on: April 08, 2012, 09:49:57 AM »

 The orb of light shone brightly, like a call through the forest that had only a shadow for an echo, hardly noticeable amoung the shades that moved and wavered like curious ghosts among the trunks and boughs of aged trees. The indigo-eyed elf stood below the beacon, whose dazzling rays stretched through the thick canopies, and though the light shone brightly, there was something about her birthright that did not make her seem out-shone.

The robes of her lythe figure rustled in the wayward breezes that came round to see the source of the light, the two figures who stood beneath it, the elf that stood watching. She looked for movement from the wood, and at first, it was only those haunting shadows that seemed to heed the call of light; then, slowly but surely, figures emerged: Gilith down the road, and Remis not far off... then Quael, too, and Jarrox, and all her once-lost companions. She watched with relief as they one-by-one stepped out of the forest, perhaps a little worse for wear (with the notable exception of Termat), but alive. She, too, bore the mark of her own attack: a cut in her lip where Defalgren had hit her, and a slight discoloration on her cheek.

Alýr watched with some curiosity as Irid appeared with a short figure--a gnome. The elf smiled ever-so-slightly, being endeared toward Santharia's Little People. She watched patiently as he climbed upon the cart to address her close to eye-level. "Hello Miss," he said boldly, "My name is Ptergub Takigmin – The Magnificent!  You can call me Tak.  This elf here said you might know who that man in black was? Angry man, summoned strange creatures with red eyes."

The elf's brows furrowed with concern as the gnome spoke: "He took something of mine, very dangerous.  I would like to get it back. Do you know where he is?"

The elf shook her head slightly, the tendrils of her dark hair brushing her cheeks, and her voice was calm(ing) and almost musical: "I know the man of whom you speak, dear Tak, but not his location. He has been..." here her eyes glanced at her companions... "... everywhere this day. What of yours did he take?"

Her eyes fluttered briefly in the direction of Gilith. His gate and expression told her he still had the box. She wasn't sure what her dark-cloaked pursuer had stolen from the gnome, but she was certain that it could be no more dangerous than that box.

All at once she heard an old female voice arise from the brush not far off: "What do I need to do to get some sleep around this place? The talking, the flashes, the noises, the light, all of it is too much for me and now you've gone and woken us up, haven't they dearest?"

Alýr tilted her head slightly as she looked at the figure: a wizened old woman--a beggar woman perhaps?--had lifted herself up and seemed to address herself to one who was not there. She then turned to the group: "Well, what do you lot have to say to dearest and myself?"

The indigo-eyed elfess spoke with gentility and care: "I apologize, for we did not realize you were here sleeping in the forest. We shall move along soon, so as not to disturb you any further." She regarded her with some hesitancy. Rarely was she taken by a living car'all suddenly--though in a forest like this, where so much is breathing in shades of ahm and soor, and with a woman whose car'all matches the composition of the brush with startling similarity, perhaps it was no wonder.
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Gilith
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« Reply #63 on: April 08, 2012, 11:38:17 AM »

Gilith hobbled slowly for he was tired now. It had been a long day and those beasts did not die easily but he was alive and so was Quael. Waite were was she?

Quickly he looked back into the forest and saw that she was somewhat behind him. That was good he did not know if he could fight anymore today.

When he came to the gathering spot he chuckled and felt considerably more amusement than he would have sober. Though of course he was not quite as drunk as he would have liked he was a proffesional and could restrict himeself.

But at the site of the gnome he broke out into a smile. It was a funny sight. Someone so small so determined and holding such strangest objects.

Though he did not feel quite as good as he had for the past few years he was alive. Though he did probably look more dead than anything with his blood stained clothes and his torn armor not to mention his crutch and sling! He still haad a job to do he must protect his employer and her propertie.

So he dropped his crutch as he could walk without it but still ever so slowly made his  way to his employer with his hand clutched on the handle of his sword.

"I beg your pardon Ms. Rayne and I promise it won't happen again." He said smilling.

As he said these words he tilted his head side ways slightly and gave a slight wink to his employer as his thumb brushed against the place were the box was hidden.

Yes most of the companions were here yet some were not. Perhaps they suffered worse luck than his. Or perhaps they are just far away. He did not know but he was content to follow his orders.
Logged

Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
Roy Tmofl
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« Reply #64 on: April 08, 2012, 12:01:59 PM »

The mage watched as this elf's companions came one by one. Some of them looked perhaps useful others out of place. Some even laughable. But this was intersting perhaps he could gain from this. For some reason this elf was desperate. She hired far to many people and to different people to be casually traveleing. Some of them were even injured significantly. Almost a sure sign that something was following them or something they had.

Many people were talking to the elf. A Short creature whom he felt as if might be annoying later. A tall broad shouldered man whom... waite what was that. Perhaps barely percepted by most but there was a strange thing that he did. Nothing more than a slight hand movement an eye twitch and a small head rotation. Most would not see unless they were ment to but few things escaped his dark perception these days.

Though he loved his magic he did not like useing it needlessly. He did not wish to quit but if everyone was here than he knew he should. He turned towards the elf and simply waited for some sign that everyone had been gathered or killed.
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Serpentfang
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« Reply #65 on: April 10, 2012, 12:44:55 AM »

The itching is back again and strangely it feels as if it's not his scales that are irritated, but rather under his scales. He tried scratching it in a futile attempt to relieve it. Not until a part of the scales on his arm became loose that he realized something. He let out a pained groan, one that he only makes when confronted with intellectually challenged people.

He's molting!

By Churas' staff, why does it have to be in the wrong place and in the wrong time? Apparently he did not brush against an irritating plant. Plus snakes are immune to itching due to the protection provided by their scales (That swindler who sold him that anti-itching cream better start hiding). It was merely an early warning sign. Psyrpents molt from time to time, especially the elders, and wearing the skin of an elder is done by his people when attending formal occasions. Serpentfang looked around for a nearby bush, one large enough to conceal him as he molt. He stood up quickly, motioned his dog to follow him and ran into a tree-like bush. He dove into it but came running out as a huge bird came pecking at him.

Jarrox waved his arms frantically around his head, trying to get rid of the squawking terror. After a few pecks later he lost his patience. He looked straight at the bird as it was aiming for his eyes and blasted the twit with psionic energy. The flying pest dropped on the ground, dazed and trying to get its bearings. By this time his whole right forearm's scales are dangling. Afraid of being seen by his companions, the psyrpent went straight to the bush with his dog standing guard outside the makeshift hiding place.

Inside he saw what the bird was defending; a nest with five eggs in it. His appetite told him to swallow the morsels, but he'll have to do that later. Plus he owed the mama bird an apology. He took off his hauberk as quickly as he can and got down on all fours. Then he began wriggling a little, rubbing his belly every now and then to loosen and split the scale cleanly for his new form to come out. The brille, or the transparent covering of his eyes (snakes have no eyelids to protect their eyes from dirt, thus the need for this transparent scale) became cloudy, but that is a normal procedure for a snake that is molting.

A few seconds later the whole-body scale started coming off, revealing a brand new skin. Like the former, it is black with white speckles, the only difference is that the new scale is more lustrous and shiny. It is a beautiful obsidian color, and he would probably get a good price selling the old scale to leather merchants. His asking price had to come later though, as it would take him perhaps several more minutes to get the whole thing off him.
« Last Edit: April 10, 2012, 04:29:14 PM by Serpentfang » Logged

Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #66 on: April 10, 2012, 09:00:15 AM »

*OLD WOMAN*

The elfess spoke to the old woman, saying, "I apologize, for we did not realize you were here sleeping in the forest. We shall move along soon, so as not to disturb you any further."

The old woman considered the words of the indigo-eyed elfess, and then once again looked to empty space again, "what do you think, Dearest?" The woman paused for a short space of time following that question, as though she was listening to someone.

"I agree," the old woman said, and then looked at Rayne, "I am sorry for snappinng earlier. I was awoken suddenly and that always makes me and Dearest unhappy. I was having such a nice dream too. Dearest and I think we should travel with you. These roads are dangerous and travelling in a group is safer than travelling with just Dearest for company. I can help. And besides, Dearest is such a talker. I can barely get a word in edge ways when Dearest starts to talk. Talking with the rest of you is much nicer."

The old woman watched as Gilith came up, "and besides I am a healer! I can heal those of your party who were injured in your fight with those things that attacked you."

*JULIETTE DANTE*
Juliette stumbled out of the forest and up towards the rest of the party a few minor cuts here and there showed that the marauder had her own encounter with some of the foe that had seperated them. The tall thin man confused her in his demand for 'the box'. She had no box, but he seemed insistent that she hand it over to him. He went in a flash and she was set upon by some of his lackies. Her cutlass-work was quick and she survived the encounter because her foes mindlessly attacked, if they were used to fighting together, the story could have been different ... much different.

She fixed eyes on Rayne, and the old woman, and nodded to the elfess. Making no comment, she stood silently, watching and waiting for what would happen next.
« Last Edit: April 10, 2012, 09:12:30 AM by Deklitch Hardin » Logged

Seeking the truth, whatever the cost! - Deklitch Hardin, Elf Friend
Tak
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« Reply #67 on: April 11, 2012, 02:17:14 AM »

"I know the man of whom you speak, dear Tak, but not his location. He has been ... everywhere this day. What of yours did he take?"

“Gnomish invention.  It’s very technical, you don’t have the math.  But it is VERY dangerous, I must find it.”  Tak took a moment to ponder his responsibilities regarding his little invention.  He decided that, as its creator, any and all damages it unleashed would be his responsibility.  “I have resolved to travel with you.  You seem to know this man, and I do need my device back.  Besides, everyone could always use an accomplished Fire Mage!” Tak waved his hands in the air as he sparked his gloves and tossed two small pouches at the ground that sparked, popped, and smoked a sickly Lýth’bél yellow.

Before anyone could respond Tak hopped through the smoke and ran back to his cart. “Buttons, change of plans, we are going with them.  Norong'Sorno will have to wait.  I should have enough burning stones to last a very long time anyway.  Wait here until we are ready to go.”  Tak ruffled up Buttons’ mane and hurried back toward the others to hear the plans, and to look for the lizard. 

Tak looked at the group and debated who to ask about the lizard.  There were a few people battered and bruised, a human looked hurt fairly bad but Tak couldn’t begin to guess how bad.  Most of the others were worrying over the injured.  There was a pale, sick looking man standing in a scowl.  Best not to bother him at this point in time.  Then Tak’s eyes fell upon a rather strangely dressed young man.  He was sipping something next to a donkey and Tak decided that this man must be second in charge, and would definitely know where the lizard ran off to.  After all, why else would such a young human dress so fancy and be in the company with so many mercenaries if he weren’t conveying a sense of social hierarchy.  Tak walked over to him and said, “Excuse me, have you seen a lizard around?  I’m trying to collect some samples.”
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"There’s Nothing Worth Doing That Isn’t Worth Overdoing" - Tak "The Magnificent"
Gilith
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« Reply #68 on: April 11, 2012, 12:39:06 PM »

Gilith now stood in the place where so much seemed to be going on. First there was trhe gnomish creature whom was describing something about math and danger he did not pay much attention to that. Then there was a strange rusteling ahead of him as the serpant creature they brought with dashed away.

After these things registered to him he took more notice of the old woman whom claimed to be a healer. With Rayne already preoccupied with so many other things he decided to see if her saying she could heal him was actually true.

"Ahhh sure you can try to heal me." He began to unwrap the bandage around his shoulder. Then when he was done he took about a second to get off the sleeve of his bloodstained armor. It came easily as it was only half on and very loose. He would have to get that repaired when he could.

Though these normal thoughts were instantly pushed out of his mind when he looked at the wound. It was not infected due to the alchohal he put on it (Which almost hurt more than the actuall blow itslef.) But when he looked at his bandage it was very bloody. Red blood his blood. He pulled it off delicately and whinced when he saw it. It was a broad blade that hit him. So the cut was very long. It was also very deep. His armor saved his arm as it still hurt like mad but was able to be moved.

When he removed the bandage the yahrle leaves and Miyu berries juice fell off of the wound. So what he had more. But was this woman just going to make things worse.

Ha he thought she couldn't make it much worse if she tried. Fortunately for him the numbness on his side was wearing off so he could stand almost normal. Unfortunately for him the pain soon returned with the balance. He leaned against a tree and put almost all of his weight on his good side.

"Be very careful now miss. I know you might know what your doing but please don't touch it to much."

He didn't trust this woman ( talking to herself was slightly making things worse) He did however not have any reason to distrust her. If she was good he would let her look at his side if not then... well he would cross that bridge if he came to it.

Logged

Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
Roy Tmofl
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« Reply #69 on: April 11, 2012, 12:51:59 PM »

FIRE MAGE! Invulnatery his ball of light magnified perhaps twice in brightness for a moment only though. That was perhaps one of the worst things you could do to make the mage angry. He who had given everything for his magic a true magic user could not stand by as he listened to this gnome spout lies and defile his art.

He figured it out when the gnome through the strange thing at the ground which created smoke.

Fire mages didn't create smoke without fire! That was wind magic. This small and incredibly stupid creature may have just sealed himself to a terrible fate. What made Roy pause however was the mention of burning stones. He craved these rare peices and would go to great lengths to get them. Perhaps he could let it slide once. But if ever he caught the gnome saying that again it wouldn't be a good site.

When he regained control of himself he wandered over to where Tak was. All the while he  still concentrated on his ball of light and making it shine he said.

"So you say you have burning stones eh? I might want to buy some of those seeing as how you can't use any of them." The last words beggining with seeing were uttered in an angry amused sort of way that tried to tell the gnome he knew and he better knock it off.

But then he pulled a shiny red gem from one of his puches and asked "Will this cover it?"
He did not notice the man he was talking to but if he had he probably would not have paid him much attention anyway.
« Last Edit: April 12, 2012, 08:13:29 AM by Roy Tmofl » Logged

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Alýr (Rayne)
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« Reply #70 on: April 12, 2012, 05:26:57 AM »

The dark-haired elfess, a soft breeze twining through her rippling robes, glanced up to see Gilith, and was struck by his appearance: the blood stained clothes, the torn armor, and--she could tell--some alcohol in his system. Clearly, with wounds as he had, he needed them to dull the pain.
 
"I beg your pardon, Ms. Rayne and I promise it won't happen again," said Gilith. The apology hardly found her heart amidst the worry that seized it. She went to his side as the old woman piped in again.
 
"I'm sorry for snapping earlier," said the old woman before inviting herself to join. The indigo-eyed elf smiled courteously, distrait over the state of her companion. The old woman's mind was clearly a little unhinged, but nothing in the raggedness of her appearance or the dirt across her wrinkled face spoke danger. And besides, with a group such as this, the elfess felt in no danger whatever from the poor old woman.
 
"... and besides I am a healer!" she proclaimed, looking at Gilith. "I can heal those of your party who were injured in your fight with those things that attacked you!"
 
Alýr looked at Gilith, almost questioningly, as though asking him if he was all right with this course of action. The woman did not look quite in her own mind; that did not mean she could not be a healer, as she claimed. There was a natural closeness with nature in her, and such spiritual propinquities often engendered skills in the healing arts.
 
Just then, the elf's attention was once more turned by the voice of the gnome: "I have resolved to travel with you," declared Tak. "You seem to know this man, and I do need my device back." Alýr opened her lips as though to speak, to warn the gnome about the dangers, though she realized that the diminutive inventor before her likely would not give a tarep's tail about the dangers. "Besides," he went on, "everyone could always use an accomplished Fire Mage!" There was a spark and the pop of pouches and yellow smoke.
 
Alýr gave the gnome an endeared smile, despite herself (her worry still swayed strongly to Gilith and his condition). The gnome's cár'áll, to her, was a map of his life; all the places he been and the things he had done spoke in the soór links and listened in the ahm. The influences shone themselves in the scattering of ounía, the balances and the conversations between the elements. Did he have a penchant for fire? Yes--the fire ounía in him was strong. Was he a mage? His xeuá sang a different song.
 
Before she could respond, he walked off, apparently in search of the lizard. She saw Roy flare. Like his element, he was fiery, and in response her own cár'áll seemed to flare. She was weakened; it was true. Any sudden and strong magical movement would debilitate her, but she could still make one, and she was no trifle of a mage. However, as Roy calmed, so did she, and what she overheard of Roy's words made her calm, though wary.
 
She turned back to Gilith, who was pulling the bandages off his wound--a deep gash in his shoulder. The alcohol was fading from his system, and he leaned against the tree as the pain inched back. She came to his side, her eyes looking at the wound. No, looking through it, for her eyes seemed distant, like there was something she could see that others could not: the flowing influence of water in the blood, the fire ounía fading out as the heat from the wound melted into the cool forest air, the weakening of earth, the wildness of wind... and so many broken xeuá.
 
"Come, sit down, Gilith," She said, her voice liquid with worry. She glanced at the old woman. "Perhaps we might heal him together? I fear I may lack the strength to heal the wound entirely, but perhaps together we can."
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Termat Geirskun
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« Reply #71 on: April 12, 2012, 07:57:00 AM »

Termat was leaning on his cart sipping slowly at his wine when he was approached by the impressive-but-diminutive person he had noticed earlier. An amused half smile - not a new feature of his face, but one that had been dimmed by the rather unpleasant journey through the hinterland of the forest - regained its full force as he watched him cross the distance between them purposefully; a fellow cart user, Termat felt at once a kind of deep and meaningful kinship between them that transcended all bounds of race or class to become a perfect harmony of spirit - that is, his mind went soaring off on what could no longer be properly called even a tangent and he wrenched it back onto the sane and narrow just in time to hear his new companion’s words.

“Excuse me, have you seen a lizard around? I’m trying to collect some samples.” Termat bowed slightly, respectfully.

“Yes, Sir. The psyrpent? He was around just a moment ago but -” Termat looked around in some perplexity “- he seems to have vanished; I’m very sorry. Perhaps he had to dash off into the trees. Urgent call of nature, maybe. But no. I couldn’t direct you to him. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later, Sir. Our illustrious leader, Miss. Rayne, may know more than I, but she appears to be busy; would you like a glass of wine in the meantime? It’s very nice indeed.” Gesturing to his bottle, which lay in the shade of his case, Termat glanced over the assembled group, and noticed the drawn man approach and address his newest companion - a companion whose name, Termat remembered, he hadn’t quite caught when he announced himself. He cast a reprimanding glance at the interrupter, and continued speaking.

“Sorry, Sir, how rude of me. I’m Termat Geirskun, utterly unimportant and only here because I thought it would hardly be chivalrous to let a party with so many ladies in it pass through the forest without accompanying them to do my little all. You are Mr. Takigmin, is that right? Or did I mishear ?” Did he come across as overly pretentious? Perhaps. He’d already said it anyway, so with great philosophy he resigned himself to the judgement of his interlocutor.

He didn’t give the newcomer a second glance.

He did, however, notice the dishevelled old woman who had emerged and was now engaged in treating the burly woodsman who had earlier - how much earlier it seemed - asked to evaluate Termat’s skill with a blade. Termat made a mental note to make a point of the fact that he had survived, which he had branded sufficient to prove he was good enough to survive the recent events - a rather circular train of thought but somehow and in some ways perfectly reasonable and sufficient. He only hoped the woodsman would survive his ordeal, which appeared to have been far more taxing than his own. Other than that strange denizen of the forest, Alýr was also tending to the injured warrior, and the rest of the group was now appearing in the last dribs and drabs from the woods.

Termat lamented the fact that he didn’t actually know the group well enough to be able to tell when they had all arrived, and unleashed the donkey to allow it to graze.
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« Reply #72 on: April 12, 2012, 08:52:26 AM »

Ridgen was assessing the situation in an almost unnatural silence. It wasn't like him, to go over situations like that, but the fact that some of the stronger members of the party (Rayne, Irid) are now injured was a great worry. There are those who made it out relatively unscathed, surprisingly - like Termat, Jarrox and himself, but still... He couldn't shake a thought sitting at the back of his mind, even as he noticed that there were three new additions to the party. Even as Jarrox dashed off into the brush, as the man named Termat offered everyone a glass of wine. Even as he noticed the globe of light intensify to twice its normal brightness, as this un-reclusive gnome introduces himself as a fire magician - something the elf doubted very much.

Silvery white eyes swept over the area one last time, and, having found nothing but the fact that all party members are relatively safe, stared off into the distance. But not for long. In that brief period of time, the elf's mind quickly ran over everything that he could remember happening within the past five minutes to make sure that there really was nothing wrong. Nope. There was nothing he should worry about.

The thought was pushed out of his mind (and came back, only to be ignored) as the blue-haired elf remembered Termat's offer for wine. Why not? A little drink once in a while isn't bad.

"Mr. Geirskun, is it? Would you mind sharing some of that wine?" Wait, he did say wine, right?
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"Everything is a game - some people just don't realise that."
                                                                       - Ridgen Sú'ufanán
Gilith
Wandering Woodsmen
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Human, Gondolwenmith


« Reply #73 on: April 12, 2012, 09:07:52 AM »

"Come, sit down, Gilith," "Perhaps we might heal him together? I fear I may lack the strength to heal the wound entirely, but perhaps together we can."

At this Gilith smiled. True he wished this pain would recede but he had a job to do and he had already been paid so he intended to do it right.

"That is very kind of you Rayne but if you do not have much of your magic left you should keep it." He said this bluntly but hopefuly not insultingly as he saw what she did with Irid's  hand which was quite impressive.

But he did go to sit down when she asked. Though it hurt he tried to keep a limp from his steps as that would perhaps heal normaly by itslef.

"I don't mean to be rude but if you could save your magic for yourself or a better cause I would feel better. For ya see if you were to be attacked-"

At this Gilith looked at Rayne's face and frowned for someone probably the same someone who had attacked him must have attacked his employer. He knew there was not much he could have done but so far he was failing in his job to keep his employer out of harms way.

"As it seems you have then I would feel quite better if you had something to protect yourself. For if you were ta die then I would have failed."

"Let us see what this (he almost said old) woman can do first eh?"

Truthfuly he would have felt considerably better if Rayne had done it as he trusted her more than the old woman but oh well he was not one to be picky.
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Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
Tak
Pyro-Geologist
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Gnome, Golgnome


« Reply #74 on: April 12, 2012, 12:19:04 PM »

“Yes, Sir. The psyrpent? He was around just a moment ago but he seems to have vanished; I’m very sorry. Perhaps he had to dash off into the trees. Urgent call of nature, maybe. But no. I couldn’t direct you to him. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later, Sir. Our illustrious leader, Miss. Rayne, may know more than I, but she appears to be busy; would you like a glass of wine in the meantime? It’s very nice indeed.” Termat gestured toward the bottle of wine. The man was very long winded, Tak was trying to be polite but kept fidgeting with the vial of pink goo. 

“Sorry, Sir, how rude of me. I’m Termat Geirskun, utterly unimportant and only here because I thought it would hardly be chivalrous to let a party with so many ladies in it pass through the forest without accompanying them to do my little all. You are Mr. Takigmin, is that right? Or did I mishear?”

”Hmm, wine?  No, no wine for me.  Need to keep my mind clear so I can perform my magics, in case another of those beasties shows up.  The name is Tak – The Magnificent!  I like your jacket.  It could use more red...but I think it looks very distinguished.  Are there many pockets?  You could always use more pockets.”

Tak would have gone on more; however he was approached by the very sickly, sour looking man (looking even more angry) that Tak had noticed earlier. 

“So you say you have burning stones eh? I might want to buy some of those seeing as how you can't use any of them." The man seemed very upset, but Tak couldn't figure out why for the life of him.  Maybe he stubbed his toe walking.  Tak was going to respond, but then the man pulled out a very strange looking red stone from a pouch. ”Will this cover it?"

”Ohh what do you have there?” Tak snatched the gem out of the man's hand and began rolling it around in his fingers.  He adjusted his lenses to get a better look, removing the colored tints and pulling out a jewelers loop.  ”Of course I can use burning stones.  I'm a gnome. he said, still examining the stone.  ”I don't know why you would be interested.  Much too tall.  Burning stones aren't toys you know, they can be very dangerous.” Tak glanced back up and looked the man over before adding, ”Especially in untrained hands.”

Tak pocketed the very strange gem and said, “But, since you can pay for some, you can have some!”  Tak walked back to his cart, assuming the man would follow him.  He rubbed Buttons on the nose as he passed, and began rummaging through his items.  “Now,” Tak said, his head stuck into a barrel, “I don't carry very many of the lighter stones, too difficult to move with that clumsy thing,“ Tak gestured toward buttons, who snorted on cue, “So I hope a pouch of these will do.”  Tak gathered a little more than half a dozen small Drake Eggs into a pouch and handed them to the man. “Here you go mister...what was the name?”
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"There’s Nothing Worth Doing That Isn’t Worth Overdoing" - Tak "The Magnificent"
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