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Author Topic: Thirsty Herald Chapter XVII  (Read 23120 times)
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Markus Boadicea
The Lonely Wanderer
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #75 on: May 18, 2011, 05:08:04 PM »

A sudden and sharp pain in his right thigh brought Markus to his feet...

His apathy had begun to fall away... The pain he experienced was bothersome but hardly overbearing...


The situation demanded he turn his attention from the terrified barmaid... Yet knew it would be unwise to release her...

Glancing down, Markus caught sight of a small child... desperation plastered across his pale face...


This... infant, barely out of the womb... stood defiantly against him... The child's eyes glared fiercely, tempered in the colours of a maelstrom...

A demanding yell clawed it's way free of the little child's throat...


"Let 'er go!”


This mildly amused Markus for a moment... why, Markus couldn't discern... perhaps it was the ridiculousness of the scenario...

However, this glee quickly dissipated... as gazes from around the tavern began to burn into him...
 
Still, Markus couldn't help but wonder... Was this child noble or foolhardy...?


Over the extremely annoying orders of the young boy Markus could make out a stern bellow...


”Better listen well to the boy, first your going to let Triss go nice and easy than your going to apologize, give her that key she just gave you back and march yourself right back into the desert where you came.”


Within moments Markus pinpointed the location of the objection... It was fro a man standing by one of the tables...

The man's confidence was sickening... Markus could clearly tell he was not of right mind at the moment... Judging from the pile of drinks at his table...

Still... that did not ease the urge to slit this besotted fool's throat...


”Better take my advice, there are enough men in here that would stand up for Tristessa that the odds are not in your favor.”


A long sigh of exasperation pulled itself from Markus's lips as he turned in his seat... An action which dragged his hostage part way over the bar...

Markus' freezing eyes swept over the original protester... He wore unusual dressings... but no noticeable weapons or objects of interest...


Another man... one of the elven folk... rose from his the first man's table... Yelling hoarsely in agreement and taking a place along side his drinking buddy...

He bore a spear... But from the looks of how he brandished it Markus doubted he would be a particularly well coordinated foe...


"Men?" Markus asked coolly after several lengthy moments...


Markus felt a odd sensation overtake conscious mind... like the humanity has been bled out of him... Markus could feel his insides going cold...

"I see no men here... I see two drunkards and a child..."


A movement like a shadow in a room void of light... Markus could hear his inner darkness as it whispered it's malevolent advice...

'Children are sometimes trained to be used as assassin... They are able to move around easier... they are less suspicious...'

Markus' eyes flashed to the child who still stood his ground, stubbornly refusing to give an inch...


Driven by the desire of self-preservtion... Markus made his move...

Without a moment's hesitation, Markus flung himself over the bar... Twisting the woman's arm around her body as he went...

Markus swiftly placed his free hand across the frightened woman's jaw...


Black electricity to coursed through Markus' veins... Causing morbid delight to twist and contract within his chest...

In a single erratic movement he brought his lips to the Barmaid's ear... and with a sharp whisper truly sinister words came into being...


"What's your name, then...?"

A muffled whisper came in responce...

"What was that...?"

A single word fought it's way through tears...


"Triss..."


Markus recoiled... In a bizarre mixture of horror, shock and disgust... Markus felt as if bugs were crawling beneath his skin...

For a fleeting moment he had almost lost his grip on her... not the bartender... Her... Markus had fallen into the abyss left by his hate and fury and had escaped...

Markus felt the insanity that had previously infested him burn away.... like a hazy fog burned away by the sun's first rays... In it's place a sense of apathetic calmness came...


When he spoke next Markus' voice was heavy...


"Come closer and I will snap her neck..."


Markus had no intention of killing this woman... but he needed time to figure out what to do next...

And he doubted he could just walk out... a plan was needed...
« Last Edit: May 19, 2011, 03:37:55 PM by Markus Boadicea » Logged

No one holds command over me. No man. No god. No prince. What is a claim of age for ones who are immortal? What is a claim of power for ones who defy death? Call your damnable hunt. We shall see who I drag screaming to hell with me.

http://www.santharia.com/adv/index.php?topic=7491.0
Orly
Wayfaring Whittler
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« Reply #76 on: May 19, 2011, 06:56:43 AM »

Orly had dozed off, but he was woken suddenly by voices, and other noises. He looked around, not realising at first where he was, then he suddenly was struck by the wanderlust again, he had spent enough time here, and it was now time to head off again. Up north somewhere maybe ... firstly south then a boat to one of hte northern provinces of Santharia ... or perhaps even to Northern Sarvonia ... he had much to see and many strals to travel ... Orly found his pipe, found his pipeweed and headed out, after he put some coins and a small crafted object, a piece of wood crafted to look like the coacoa bird, on the counter to pay for his drink. Walking to the door, he left the Thirsty Herald behind and entered the desert lands. He found a stick, hefted it, judged it to be useful as a walking stick. He went to the trading route and came across a cart being driven somewhere. Orly waved down the cart, talked to the driver, and then was up alongside the driver going to wherever it was the owner of the cart was going. Orly speaking almost non-stop. As he spoke, his hands were busy, whittling the walking stick into a myriad of things.
Logged

The road never ends,
Taking me beyond my dreams,
Each day as it twists and bends,
Crossing plains and mountain streams. - Orly Greenfield
Ambroise Cheligreuus
Foresaken Child of the Sun
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Human, Korweynite/Murmillion


« Reply #77 on: May 20, 2011, 07:05:05 AM »

The scarred man had been watching as the waitress had made her rounds.  From his belly a mild growl erupted though hunger was not a new experience he found it slightly embarrassing.  For a moment his attention went to the three men and all the containers that held liquid or at least at one point earlier did.  They seemed to be enjoying themselves even if oblivious to the happenings around them.  For Ambrios being unconcerned was not an option.  Having fled one’s country did not mean one was safe from those who where bent on revenge. Trade routs crisscrossed the waterways between cotenants and the same trade breezes that brought him could just as easily bring a whirlwind of trouble his way.

Nothing made sense to the warrior, that is that he could hear being spoken.  He could grasp only portions of the language spoken around him and his own ability to speak it was just a limited.  As sat straight hoping to look dignified or at least proper he hoped the disconcertion’s he felt were not as obvious to others as they were to him. From the kitchen odors wafted their way across the common area.  They were not unpleasant but rather unfamiliar. Yet another reminder of the contrasts between cultures and what he had left behind, lost forever to him.

His gaze drifted over towards the man sitting alone at the bar.  From the midday light that flowed through the tavern windows it seemed the man was deep into his own thoughts and had hair of dark grey. Among the other patrons the man did not stand out as particularly different and with his appearance Ambriose felt he was not a particular threat to himself.

The woman who had asked him to have a seat passed by him on her way to the room behind him he assumed was the kitchen and than make her way to the fireplace where she retrieved a metal key.  Her long hair glinted in suns rays and brought a slight smile to his scarred face in spite of his efforts to maintain a stoic appearance.  Women from his culture had hair of darker hues, hues he did not see much among the people in this new environment. Then the smile fled as quickly at it had arrived. His one good eye watched as the woman’s wrist was grasped firmly and her face took on an expression of fear.  Things had changed as if some magical influence had turned the taverns placid and peaceful environment. Thoughts of when he found the man he was to protect standing over his daughter shot through his mind like an arrow from a bow. His sense of honor and right pricked and he was not going to stand by as a helpless woman was harmed.

His right hand darted towards the spear that rested against the wall though he was careful not to make any sudden movements. Standing to his feet the warrior began to cross the floor towards the bar.  Being on the backside of the bar seemed the best option.  His spear could easily cross the barrier while the bar itself served as a barrio against direct assault.  He watched as another man dressed in a skirt-like armor approach the pair and he used the diversion to move forward and than when a light haired girl took whatever beverage the man had and drank from it he moved even more still trying to be as unobtrusive and unnoticed as possible.  Things went from bad to worse when the man holding the barmaid stood to his feet and leaped over the bar counter.  It was impressive seeing the height of the barricade but not impossible.  He could hear the man making what he presumed were threats but had no idea what he was actually saying.  Standing behind him and the woman he place one foot in front of him giving him better balance.  He tried to tap the man between where he assumed his shoulder blades would be. With the tip poised to impale the man holding the woman he prepared to be read in case the man were to move, to thrust into his flesh and end the torment for the woman in case he did not comply.

In his thick accent and with his limited vocabulary he tried his best to communicate what he intended. “No h-hurt wooman,” he managed bracing himself for the coming onslaught if and when it came.
« Last Edit: May 20, 2011, 07:10:20 AM by Ambroise Cheligreuus » Logged

Tristessa Stonebridge
Herald Barmaid
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Human, Helcrani


« Reply #78 on: May 20, 2011, 12:19:28 PM »

A shock of slight pain and surprise flooded Triss's mind as the man she had just given a key to reached out and roughly grabbed her wrist. His dark eyes stared at her, making her feel uncomfortable.

"Don't scream... or move... if a word passes your lips that is louder whisper I will kill you..."

She silently nodded her agreement, blinking a few times to keep back the tears which had started to well up in her eyes. He pulled her closer, digging his nails slightly into her skin. She wanted to struggle, wanted to break away from this strange man, but she knew that if she did, her life could very well end that day.

He stared at her for awhile, making her turn her head slightly to avoid gazing straight into his eyes. It gave her chills to look into those eyes. There appeared to be no emotion there, nothing that even suggested that he was human. She wanted this to be over with quickly, so that she could retreat to the kitchen.

But no, instead he gestured towards the cup of water she had served him. "Take a sip..."

Triss was stunned. Did this man really think she poisoned the water? That she was trying to kill him? What kind of man was he? She bite her lip out of nervousness.

It was then that another look crossed the man's face. This look was full of hatred, malice, and cruelty. His free hand moved to underneath the bar. She didn't know what he was holding onto, but it couldn't have been good.

"Drink...or die..."

That was it. That's all he said. Triss could feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat. Her whole body trembled with fear. Why was this man so insistant that she was trying to poison him? What sort of past did he have that would draw him to that conclusion?

Her first reaction was to glance around the room and see if anyone had noticed her predicament. Rocelin had risen from his seat, but there appeared to be no urgency in his face, so he must not have noticed; at least, not yet. Her eyes pleaded with him that he would take notice of her plight.

Deciding that doing what the man said would be best for the moment in time, Triss started to reach out for the mug with her trembling free hand. Before she could actually take hold of the mug, the tavern door slammed open and in stepped a young boy. His hair was very bright red, so he wasn't hard to miss. Triss's heart sank as she saw him walking towards the bar. Please don't let an innocent child get involved...

Too late. The boy noticed what was going on and swung out a leg to kick the man. He yelled "Let 'er go!" at the same. Well, at least this wouldn't escape anyone's notice now...

”Better listen well to the boy. First your going to let Triss go nice and easy than your going to apologize, give her that key she just gave you back and march yourself right back into the desert where you came.”

Triss's eyes followed the sound to its source. She felt her heart go up into her throat as she saw Rocelin standing nearby, all mirth removed from his face. She couldn't help but think, even in this dire circumstance, how handsome he looked. The nails in her skin brought her sharply from that thought.

”Better take my advice,  there are enough men in here that would stand up for Tristessa that the odds are not in your favor.”

The Elf, she couldn't remember his name right now, stood next to him, his spear taken from the floor into his hands. Triss could tell that if a fight did break out, the Elf might not fare well in his drunken state.

Now, I don't know how you human's go about things, but I don't think that's how you treat a woman. You let her go and.... I uh, I'll just forget about you. Go on and go where you came from, and don't come back her before you mind your manners.

All this for a barmaid? Triss could scarce believe it. Seeing a movement out of the corner of her eye, Triss glanced down and happened to see the young girl she had helped earlier take hold of the water and drink a long drink. When she placed it down upon the counter, she had a defiant look in her eye, one that Triss could hardly have believed the girl was capable of giving.  Triss wanted to shield the young girl, but there was nothing she could do, not with the man's hand firmly around her wrist.

The man sighed as he turned in his seat, presumably to address the men who had risen up for her defense. Alas, he did not release his grip on her, and in turning, he actually dragged her part-way across the counter. Triss gave a small cry as she could feel her upper chest being scrapped across the rough edge of the counter. She had to lean over and stand on the tips of her toes.  

"Men? I see no men here... I see two drunkards and a child..."

Before either one of them could respond, the stranger jumped across the counter, causing Triss's arm to bend awkwardly behind her back. Pain shot up her arm as she gave another short cry. The tears which she had successfully held back now came forth as the man placed a rough hand upon her jaw. Her whole body was shaking, not from sobbing, but from fear. She glanced over to see what her father was doing. His head was resting upon the counter, presumably in a drunken stupor. Perhaps that was for the best. Her chest was stinging from the scrapes, and she knew that there was going to be small spots of blood from some of them.

She could feel him lean in towards her, his lips right next to her ear. "What's your name, then...?"

Triss tried to utter her name, but no words came out, just a hoarse whisper.

"What was that...?"

She licked her lips, swallowed, and tried again. "Triss..."

She felt him stiffen, but could not imagine why. Her eyes fell upon Rocelin. Triss did not want any blood to be shed, but she could not possibly fathom how this could work out.

Once again, her heart sank as the man spoke his next words. "Come closer and I will snap her neck..." Her body stiffened, not wanting to do anything to provoke the man. She fervently prayed to every god and goddess she had ever heard of. Surely one of them would see her plight and save her....wouldn't they?

“No h-hurt wooman,” The voice had a heavy accent, though Triss could not place from where. She tried to remember who else was in the bar. Was it the cloaked woman? No, the voice had the husky tone of a man. Triss suddenly remembered the man who had taken a seat near the kitchen. He was out of her line of sight, so she had no idea what his plan of action was.

Triss took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Silent tears fell down her cheeks. If her life was to end today, then she willed for it to end quickly and without any of the children having to see it. She gnawed on her bottom lip until a small stream of blood appeared. A nervous habit which she was never able to break....
Logged

If a good meal and a nights' sleep is what you need,
Come to the Thirsty Herald, where you'll find the best deals around!

~*~Tristessa Stonebridge~*~
Markus Boadicea
The Lonely Wanderer
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #79 on: May 20, 2011, 04:38:49 PM »

Markus cursed his luck...


“No h-hurt wooman”


A sharp point dug into Markus' flesh through his clothing... the harsh bite of the cool metal sent goosepimple across Markus' body...


The weapon in question was shrouded in a certain atmosphere...

It was a similar sensation to the one a crowd experiences moments before the executioner's axe drops upon a exposed neck...


Despite this constant irritation Markus was very careful to remained unmoving...


With time short, Markus hastily considered his options.

He attempts to attack his attacker... He dies, regardless of whether this new antagonist is a skilled warrior or a brainless naive...

He releases his hostage... He dies, after getting beaten half to death by a mod of intoxicated bar rats...


Markus' mind raced... desperately trying to find a solution...

After several moments Markus decided that there was only one scenario that might end without his death... but it was a long shot...


Markus took a deep breath and then spoke in a calm, clear, yet horribly factual voice...  


"Lower your weapon and back off... If you run me through then you will also impale this woman..."

Markus inched closer to the Barmaid's body... Thankful that his words had not betrayed him...

"And even if by some miracle you stop before your blade reaches her... I will still take her life before death claims me..."


Markus listened intently for his hidden enemy's responce... He sincerely hoped that this would work

« Last Edit: May 21, 2011, 11:01:16 AM by Markus Boadicea » Logged

No one holds command over me. No man. No god. No prince. What is a claim of age for ones who are immortal? What is a claim of power for ones who defy death? Call your damnable hunt. We shall see who I drag screaming to hell with me.

http://www.santharia.com/adv/index.php?topic=7491.0
Aster
The Blind Minstrel
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Dwarf, Kiingerim


« Reply #80 on: May 22, 2011, 12:03:26 PM »

Claudia

A Bath... Why do I have to do it she thought as grumbling she went upstairs, people had started to quiet down, or shout, they where most likely drunk. The bath took some time to heat and fill, and it was heavy work, but she managed it, not looking at anybody in the tavern as she went about her work, then half way through walking back with yet another bucket of scalding hot water, she did happen to look up, a man was holding her mothers face, rage started to burn in her eyes, and putting the bucket down very carefully she began to slink about to behind the bar where she saw yet another person pointing something at her mothers assailant, Claudia needed a way to get her mother out of there, she ran into the kitchen where she managed to find the biggest knife in the place, she tucked it up under her skirt before going off to look for a few more things and make some sort of a plan, what she really needed was a way to distract the idiot who had decided it would be a good idea to attack her mother "Maybe if I throw a rock at him..."
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Rocelin Ellis
Knight of Life's Despair
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« Reply #81 on: May 25, 2011, 05:18:59 AM »

Insults, they seemed to fly out of the man’s mouth as easily as he dismissed what Rocelin and told him to do.  It wasn’t the first time the knight had heard such cutting words. He had listened to them from his father and from the mouths of opposing forces.  Even rivals and those jealous of his status and position found it somehow expectable to spew out such speech.

Rocelin had learned to ignore most of it though like being drench in water some of it was bound to remain when the rest of it had moved on.  He preferred to let his actions speak on the battlefield and refused to inter into the banter of snide and biting speech.  There were some words that this heartless man that now held Triss spoke he found himself bound to hearken to.   Words that told of grave consequences if he tried to intervene.  

The warrior knew he would have to make some sort of effort if the lovely woman that was now captive of the brute was ever to be free.  Still, he had hesitated trying to discern the best method to remove the woman he was smitten with from the grasp of such an uncaring individual.  He had heard Kliff, his elven drinking companion, state he was with him in his quest but sure the well meaning man would be of little assistance in his current condition.  The barmaid’s father was not in any condition offer aid either and so of the three at the bar he seemed to be the only one sober enough to address the current threat.

As the man leaped over the bar his own heart sank as possible actions diminished as quickly as the sands outside the tavern shifted into new waves of viperene.  Rocelin knew he would have to be as cunning as the deadly snakes that roamed the Ráhaz-Dáth.  

He watched as another man with a scarred face and dressed in a way that seemed a bit peculiar made his stealth-full way across the common area and place the tip of his spear against the antagonists back.  Rocelin knew something about such men, men from a land far away who were warriors to be reckoned with.  The feathers on the man’s odd-looking hat spoke far more than this would be rescuer of his status.  Their bright colors and exotic appearance led the knight to think that this spear carrying man must have had some authority within the military of the Korwinites, at least if his memory served him correctly.

An idea came to his mind.  It was risky.  Not only for him but for Triss as well and inwardly he cringed at the idea of doing anything that might further endanger the woman yet to do nothing would mean even a greater risk.  Seizing the moment he tried to time his actions as to give him the best chance of success.  He grasped the edge of the bars counter than leaped onto the firm surface.  Planting his feet to help steady himself he reached out in an effort to grasp the hand of the man who had just more tightly grasped the barmaid.  He bent his thumbs so that they would rest between the knuckles of his adversary’s index fingers and center one.

He hoped his calculations would be correct and he would be inflicting enough pain on Markus that he might loose his grip.  At the same time he would try using his new height to his advantage and press downward.  If he succeeded Triss might be able to free herself.  If he failed he himself would be more vulnerable and worse yet the woman might be seriously injured as the assailant carried out his threat to do her harm.

”let – her - go,” he bellowed with the strain of his efforts obvious in his words.
« Last Edit: May 25, 2011, 04:47:42 PM by Rocelin Ellis » Logged

Markus Boadicea
The Lonely Wanderer
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« Reply #82 on: May 25, 2011, 03:44:04 PM »

Apparently the man who had first opposed Markus wasn't quite as intoxicated as Markus originally assumed...


The fool had attempted to pry Markus's grip away from... Triss...

Markus was never one to believe in fate yet even he couldn't argue away this coincidence... This woman had the same name as... her..


As Markus understood the situation, the man's reckless forward assault was aimed at stressing a pressure point in his hand...

Probably to save this woman...


Markus couldn't help but wonder what his relation was to her...

He didn't look like a common patron... Perhaps an adventurer of some nature...

Still... it begs the question why he is so determined in rescuing this woman...

Humans do not do something if they are without a motive for doing it... There is no reasonless self-sacrifice... No real charity...

What is his motive...?


Markus leaned forward slowly... once again forcing Trish the barmaid to mirror his movements...

Conscious of the threat behind him, Markus was quite careful not to provoke this man who, may or may not, still be ready to drive a spear clear through his chest...


Markus examined the crumpled body of the unfortunate 'hero' whose previous, rather unimpressive attack had resulted in Markus halfheartedly shoving him not quite entirely off the bar...

Consequently, the man stumbled into a set of used cutlery... apparently abandoned... that, coupled with gravity, did the rest...


The man glared back up at Markus... but then his eyes flickered over to Triss... only for a moment...

What was that look in his eye... as hard as Markus tried he just couldn't place it...


Markus turned his head slightly to examine Triss' expression...

And there it was... Behind the tears and the numbing fear... that same look...


Eventually, it dawned on Markus...

Markus remembered it now... He shared that look with her... After their first kiss...

It was love...



After a moment of consideration Markus had formulated a new idea... A way to take advantage of this situation...

And so he spoke... with words as smooth and solid as polished marble...


"I see..."


His gaze shifted back to the fallen man with a menicing gleam...


"Love is it... such a dreadful bond... So demanding... So draining... Yet so easily severed"


A heavy and remarkably dark chuckle broke his lips... so much so that he hardly recognised it as a facade...


"Perhaps I could do you the favour to spare you from it's deleterious grasp... Just this once..."


Markus allowed his hand to wander off her jaw onto Triss' exposed neck... Squeezing just enough to Make her squeak...


"Then again... there may be something more wanting of my attention outside..."

"Unfortunately I cannot see through walls... so I suppose I have ample opportunity to relieve you of this torment..."



A sinister tone strummed through Markus' voice like electricity in the air moments before a storm...


"So what shall it be boy... shall I escort this young lady into the afterlife or will you... and your companions... be gentleman and escort us to the door..."
« Last Edit: May 26, 2011, 03:23:21 PM by Markus Boadicea » Logged

No one holds command over me. No man. No god. No prince. What is a claim of age for ones who are immortal? What is a claim of power for ones who defy death? Call your damnable hunt. We shall see who I drag screaming to hell with me.

http://www.santharia.com/adv/index.php?topic=7491.0
Ilaról'silarná
Wayward Silversmith
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« Reply #83 on: May 28, 2011, 06:45:29 AM »

Pallid, nearly skeletal hands grasped at a jade green cloak, pulling it closer about slender shoulders to ward off the unrelenting sun. Slowly his horse trudged forward, each hoof falling with a despair born of carrying a man that showed no compassion, no personality at all save an unyielding drive to move ever onward. If thoughts lingered in those soft brown eyes, set apart by a white blaze, they would be a yearning to run free, to be free of this latest owner and menial servitude.

The man's weight on the horse's back shifted as he leaned forward, as knees dug sharply into equine flanks, signaling the beast to halt. Before them stood a tavern set apart from the city. The man, Ilaról'silarná as he would call himself in his more lucid moments, walked toward the door as a man possessed. Forgotten were the horse and his saddlebags, their existence completely scrubbed from his mind as he pursued a singular purpose. Pale grey eyes spared one last upward glance toward the brutal sun before that slight frame slipped through the door and into the tavern proper.

Slender fingers pulled the hood up and close about his face as his eyes adjusted to the lower light of the tavern's interior. The hood soon proved unnecessary, no longer needed to shield his eyes, yet something within him demanded that it remain as it was with his face obscured by shadow. He moved as one uncertain now, one whose purpose was momentarily undecided, his back leaning against the wall next to the door as inquisitive eyes scanned the room.
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Baritte Bae Daraelle
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« Reply #84 on: May 30, 2011, 12:58:06 AM »

Baritte had just removed her cloak and laid it carefully out to dry when she heard the commotion from downstairs. There was the sound of drunken voices, loud, obnoxious and raised in various pitches of terror and fury which reached her ears as dreadful murmurs, muffled by the floor. Baritte closed her eyes, biting her lip as she listened intently, trying to discern the cause of the ruckus, but to no avail.

After a time Baritte also noted the absence of the girl who had been preparing the bathwater and sighed heavily. She knew she shouldn't get involved in whatever skirmish was going on downstairs, she knew that if any of the patrons recognized her she was as good as executed, but finally curiosity got the better of her. With one hand she scraped her thick, dark mane of hair over her blind eye, securing it with her red headscarf, successfully obscuring that entire side of her face. Then she crossed over to the long, tightly wrapped package on her bed.Taking it securely in one hand she exited her room, closing the door firmly behind her, and cautiously descended into the tavern.

She shivered a bit as the sweat on her skin cooled, rubbing her heavily muscled arms, fully bared in her sleeveless black tunic. Her boots sounded out a dull, heavy rhythm on the steps, keeping time with the powerful beat of her heart. Finally she reached the bottom of the steps. What she saw caused her pause.

A man whom she only vaguely recognized was holding tightly to Triss, his grip dangerous and threatening. Baritte studied him, taking in the subtle tightness in his features, the way his eyes shifted constantly, trying to take in all of his assailants at once (And they were certainly numerous, seeing as the entire contents of the tavern appeared to have leaped to Trisstessa's aid.). A caged animal, Baritte mused, turning her attention to the other men.

The dark-haired man appeared the most upset, not surprising considering the passionate glances he had been casting the barmaid, and surprisingly enough one of the less drunk. The elf, on the other hand, looked sodding wasted, nearly falling over his spear. There were others present, the scarred man for one, and a number of children.

"Sodding hell," she muttered, leaning her package against one powerful shoulder. "This 'ere is bloody ridiculous."

Shaking her head she stretched up to her full height, towering over everyone present. Careful to skirt the drunks she stood a decent distance away from the man, so as not to make him feel more threatened. Taking a breath she squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, fixing the whole lot of them with the steely, intense, black gaze of her one good eye.

"Now everyone just calm down fer a moment." Baritte spoke, her voice authoritative yet soothing. "Has nobody asked the man what he wants yet? People don't do grabbin' others for no reason a'all." She focused on the man then, her gaze flicking briefly to Triss's terrified eyes, wide and wet like tidepools. "I suggest you speak quick if ye kin. These folk don't appear to be so... understandin'."

Waiting for the man's response Baritte attempted to make eye contact with the small blond girl, giving a slight gesture with her chin. Hopefully the girl would take the hint and get behind Baritte and out of the chaos, then perhaps the boy would follow. It wouldn't do for the traveller to get two more hostages, and the small ones were very tempting targets.
« Last Edit: May 30, 2011, 01:11:22 AM by Baritte Bae Daraelle » Logged

Rocelin Ellis
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« Reply #85 on: May 30, 2011, 08:38:29 PM »

Failure was not uncommon to the man that now lay on the tavern’s floor.  He had hit the unrelenting surface hard enough Rocelin could feel it.  He pulled himself to his feet with more than a little increase in difficulty from what it would normally take him and he grimaced from the pain.

A trail of blood had begun to run down his right arm from a minor gash near his his tunic. On his right knee blood was also making its way to through his skin and streaming into his boot. He know there would be bruising in addition to the scrapes he could feel on his calf and forearm and he was sure he would be stiff come the morning.

The man behind the counter still held the barmaid and he knew his efforts had been completely fruitless.  Worse yet it seemed the man thought he now could make ultimatums. He threatened once again to take the woman’s life, this time claiming he would somehow remedy Rocelin’s impairment of love if he didn’t get his way.

Being called a boy by the man was beginning to wear on the knight as well.  To him the boy was not the man trying to defend the helpless but rather the one choosing to do them harm.  Just has the knight’s mouth was about to open and words were to come out, waxing eloquent on the subject of how death cannot die merely by destroying the object of that love and that there was no way the man was going to get to leave alive with a hostage in tow, the voice of another patron demanded his attention and his speech ended before it begum.

He tilted his head slightly to the left not letting his eyes leave the man as he heard the woman utter an explorative and state how ridiculous things were.  Rocelin took in a deep breath but stayed quiet as the woman continued.  Her voice was coming from the stairs and he could see her towering from even over the scene between them.

He kept an eye on the man before him yet took note of the woman’s movements.  She reminded him of a motherly figure trying to break up a fight among children, yet the stakes were much higher and the bully was now getting an opportunity to excuse his actions.

 Rocelin’s jaw set at her words.  They seemed to suggest that somehow he and the others had misread the situation, overreacted and were acting inappropriately.  Everything in his being rang with the thought that once again he was being judged as inadequate and mentally inferior.  He thought that perhaps he father was correct to hurl accusations at him and threaten him with death if he did not flee his home country.  Perhaps he was responsible for the death of his brother Roger and now made Triss’ position even worse.

His heart sank as he pondered these things.  Had he not learned anything in his life that mattered?  Was this the reason his fiancé had chosen his father over him? Still, he did not back down nor respond angrily to the woman.  He merely stood hoping the man would not use the occasion to speak falsehoods that would further deteriorate the situation.
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #86 on: May 31, 2011, 03:14:12 PM »

A lucid dream played itself out in Russel's head, of domestic fulfillment and lightheaded gaiety, and children clucking like baby chicks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hhpqp8jWgE

PAPAGENO

Bist du mir nun ganz ergeben, Have you now yielded to me?

PAPAGENA

Nun bin ich dir ganz ergeben. Now I have yielded to you.

PAPAGENO

Nun, so sei mein liebes Weibchen! Now, then be my dear little wife!

PAPAGENA

Nun, so sei mein Herzenstäubchen, Now, then be the dove of my heart,
Mein Herzenstäubchen! The dove of my heart!

PAPAGENO

Mein liebes Weibchen, mein Herzenstäubchen, My dear little wife, dove
of my heart,


PAPAGENO AND PAPAGENA

Welche Freude wird das sein, What joy that will be
Wenn die Götter uns bedenken, If the Gods think of us,
Unsrer Liebe Kinder schenken And give us children of our love
Unsrer Liebe Kinder schenken And give us children of our love
So liebe kleine Kinderlein, Kinderlein, Such dear little children,
little children,

Kinderlein, Kinderlein, Little children, little children,
So liebe kleine Kinderlein. Such dear little children.
Erst einen kleinen Papageno First a little Papageno,
Dann eine kleine Papagena, Then a little Papagena,
Dann wieder einen Papageno Then again a Papageno,
Dann wieder eine Papagena, Then again a Papagena
Papageno, Papagena, Papageno, Papageno, Papagena, Papageno
Es ist das höchste der Gefühle, It is the highest of feelings
Wenn viele, viele, der pa-pa-pageno(a) etc. If many (of them) to
Papageno (a) will be

Der Eltern Sorgen werden sein. In the care of their parents.
Wenn viele, viele, der pa-pa-pageno(a) If many to Papageno (a) will
be

Der Eltern Sorgen werden sein In the care of their parents.

In the midst of his drunken delirium ad nauseum over his daughter and Rocelin, Russel was disturbed (well, perturbed would be more appropriate) by someone who tussled around and made a thud on the table (that being Markus).

While he made his way out of his lucid dream, he struggled to stay asleep, being disappointed at the prospect of leaving the pleasures of his vivid little mental projection, and then heard a protracted little monologue that was measured out in bursts and elongated pauses.

I see...

Love is it... such a dreadful bond... So demanding... So draining... Yet so easily severed.

Perhaps I could do you the favour to spare you from it's deleterious grasp... Just this once...

Then again... there may be something more wanting of my attention outside...

Unfortunately I cannot see through walls... so I suppose I have ample opportunity to relieve you of this torment...

So what shall it be boy... shall I escort this young lady into the afterlife or will you... and your companions... be gentleman and escort us to the door...


He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and heard a confident and authoritative voice that sung in a subdued alto voice.

Sodding hell, This 'ere is bloody ridiculous.

Now everyone just calm down fer a moment. Has nobody asked the man what he wants yet? People don't do grabbin' others for no reason a'all." She focused on the man then, her gaze flicking briefly to Triss's terrified eyes, wide and wet like tidepools.

I suggest you speak quick if ye kin. These folk don't appear to be so... understandin'.


He then hoisted himself violently from his dream and scanned his surrounding perimeter. Rocelin was recovering from some blunder and looked discouraged and anxious. Having then processed what Markus had said and having seen who he was grasping, Russel made eye-contact with his daughter and mouthed these words:

Should I grab one of my knives and throw it at this b#@$%rd's head?
« Last Edit: October 14, 2011, 11:34:24 AM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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The statement above this is true.

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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #87 on: June 13, 2011, 01:14:14 PM »

Markus:

Having observed Russel as he mouthed a pending threat to his person, towards Triss, Markus locked in eye contact with Russel and determined that he must kill the old man. Russel had become a threat, and whether he was in need of strangling, stabbing, or being brained by blunt trauma from a chair, he definitely needed to die....

Toward this end, Markus kept in eye contact with Russel as he tensely made his way towards a chair, cocking one hand behind him as his muscles considered what object to grasp... Neck, chair, knife?

Without warning, his footing was lost and his grasp on Triss was nearly imperceptible. The last things he saw were akin to sun spots, and then he went over the last few days in his head surrounded by a veil of black. Twould take a symphony of sound from within to break the veil, so he couldn't hear anything from the outside.
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Tristessa Stonebridge
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Human, Helcrani


« Reply #88 on: June 14, 2011, 10:56:24 AM »

Tears streamed down Triss's face as she felt the stranger's hand creep towards her unprotected neck. A small gasp escaped as he squeezed just enough to restrict some air. The next few minutes were a blur to her, as she tried to calm herself down. She had, for the most part, kept her gaze fixed upon Rocelin, but once it became apparent that he was injured, bleeding, because of her, she had to look away. She was vaguely aware of another presence entering the scene, but she could not force her mind to focus upon what was being said.

What she remembered next was looking towards her father and seeing him awake. There was a strange look in his eyes which startled her, as were the words he mouth. "Should I grab one of my knives and throw it at this b#@$%rd's head?"

Triss tried to shake her head, worried that the man who held her captive would see. His movement, however, proved that he had seen. He forced her to walk towards her father, her whole body shaking with fright. Suddenly, his grip upon her became tighter, but then loose as he fell to the group. Tristessa moved as quickly as she could away from him, coughing slightly as she tried to get air back into her lungs.

Looking back, she noticed her once-captor lying upon the floor, eyes closed in unconsciousness. Her eyes roamed the floor until she saw what he had slipped upon; a wet spot upon the floor, left over from when she had grabbed him a drink of water earlier. She walked backwards away from his unresponsive body until her back hit the brick wall of the fireplace. One hand reached up to cover her mouth, while the other one covered her scraped chest and reddened neck.

Large sobs came from her body as she slid down the wall until she was a crumpled mass upon the floor. The sobs shook her body as she lowered her head, hiding her face behind locks of strata yellow and cinnabrown. What she really wanted was for Rocelin to wrap his arms around her. She wanted to feel safe again. But with him being on the other side of the bar, her emotions just broke down.

"He.....he needs....a r-room..." she managed to mutter in between sobs. Even though he had attempted to take her life, Triss was still sympathetic towards this man. Besides, wouldn't it be nicer to know exactly where he was than throwing him outside and leaving his fate to the gods.
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If a good meal and a nights' sleep is what you need,
Come to the Thirsty Herald, where you'll find the best deals around!

~*~Tristessa Stonebridge~*~
Rocelin Ellis
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« Reply #89 on: June 16, 2011, 09:33:50 AM »

Rocelin set his jaw firmly trying to ignore the dull pain that radiated from his wounds.  They were minor yet he could feel them well enough that it was beginning to cloud his thinking.  From the corner of his eye the warrior witnessed Russel’s return to reality though he paid little attention.  His thoughts were filled with the need to find a way to free the barmaid from the man’s merciless clutches.

As the assailants eyes turned and focused on Triss’ father Rpcelin grew even more concerned.  He knew just how drunk the bar owner was and doubted that the patron’s thinking faculties were all that clear. 

Concern turned into action as he witnessed Markus moving towards his new target.  Another hostage would make matters worse and if that man with the spear behind Markus was as skilled as he surmised he just might use his weapon and further alter events.  For the knight there was but one option, try and stop this madman from carrying out whatever plan was afoot and free the woman that had so captured his thoughts.

Than much to the warrior’s surprise he watched as his nemesis lost his grip and slid quickly out of sight behind the counter.  Rocelin did not stop fearing his vanishing act was all part of his the man’s plan.  With eager eyes he saw Tristessa break free from her capture and than as he rounded the far end of the bar he could see the motionless body of the man laying on the floor.

He was puzzled at first.  What had made the man charge so eagerly towards Russel in the first place and than what had caused his sudden fall to the ground?  Of these questions he would have to ponder later as he hoped to secure the Triss’ safety before anything else could occur.  Rocelin fought the urge to rush to the maidens side and chose instead to stand between the former captive and her captive still uncertain of the now prone mans motives and condition.

He could hear Tristessa’s sobs and yearned to comfort her yet he knew his best options was to procure her safety first before showing compassion.  For a moment his eyes swept over to the tall woman who had come down the stairs and spoke so forcefully only moment before than over to Triss.  Something had happened and he was not sure who or what had brought about this sudden change of events.

“Russel,” the knight began in an even tone, “could you get Tristessa a seat?”

He didn’t look at the older man as he spoke only let his gaze drift back towards the man still on the floor.  He couldn’t believe what he heard next, the request of the beautiful barmaid that the man be given a room.  At the words he stiffened and fought back the urge to rebut and reason why such kindness should not be offered to such a man but instead nodded and uttered, “as you wish.”

Glancing once more around the room making sure the children, all three of them, were  safe he then bent down and placed his right arm under the mans shoulders and the other arm beneath his knees.  He could hardly believe he was aiding this man, this ruffian, this attacker of women that had so recently threatened to kill the beautiful woman behind the bar.

“Kliff,”he began again once he had again reached his whole height, “would you be so kind as to lead the way upstairs."

To be honest he didn't want to be alone should the man gain contentiousness. There was no way of knowing how he would respond and so having another person there might be of aid.  He might have asked the tall woman but he didn't know her name or the man in the funny clothes that had held the spear to Markus' back but again he did not know what to call him.

The children too he would have like to have given something to keep them occupied, to take their mind off of what must have been a frightening event.  Yet his lack of knowledge of dealing with them and again not even knowing their names made it a difficult thing, too difficult for the knight as he waited to see the responses to his requests.
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