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View Full Version : {M} The Simulacrum Prince; IC (F)



Jinn
10-11-2015, 10:10 PM
OOC thread (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=76107)


Prologue.

A steady breeze.

Flitting a dance across the courtyard, welcomed by the guards standing watch on the hot and humid night. Their chain mail clinked softly with every shifting foot they made. A sigh of relief escaped between sweaty lips and they began small conversation once again. One couldn’t blame them. Night watch was always the most tedious position to accomplish. Unfortunately tonight, one would make their escape. And they would no doubt be executed on the spot in front of the King.

His highness, Prince Desya conformed into his shimmering naked shape outside the outer stone wall. A peek around to be sure no one was patrolling for the moment, and he dashed to the bushes. Hidden among the green was his pack and spare clothes. Unfortunately he was only able to procure his sword, his alibi that he was having a blacksmith do some work on it. If both his shield and weapon was missing before his escape, it would no doubt raise a red flag.

The king had put the highest available security on the Prince. And not for protection as one would think. No. Desya, or should we say Grisha was a prisoner. It took a lot of planning and outside help to slip a potent sleeping drug into his personal guard’s food. They too will not live another day.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered to the wind, quickly garnishing his clothes and throwing his pack onto his shoulders. Even if it couldn’t be helped, he would hold himself responsible for those people’s deaths. Guilt swayed in Grisha’s heart and he pushed it back. There was no time to sulk.




Chapter One

The Things We Do Not Seek.


The journey through the Ilari had been wearisome and long. All the roundabout routes they had to take to avoid the furry of soldiers. Just at the break of dawn, Grisha’s disappearance had been discovered. Which only gave the Rebels a few hours after midnight to get him to the first safe house. Ever since then it was a constant duck and hide. He knew it would be hard. But he hadn’t prepared himself for something as extreme as this.

Civilians were being dragged out of their homes. Houses burnt down and lives ruined. All because of him. Someone must have caught wind of something regarding his escape. Otherwise he doubted the King would be doing this.

“We gotta hurry, they’ll be here soon.” Grisha spoke quietly from the window, watching somberly the chaos starting outside.

“It’s too risky. We leave now and we will no doubt get caught.”

“That damn King. Sending a whole battalion. As if he is trying to go to war with his own people!” Zadera spat. The decorative witch boy stood to his feet angrily and began to pace. “This is over excessive.”

“No, this is exactly what he wants. Don’t you see the slaughter? This has nothing to do with the prince.” Those ominous words from the gruff captain of the group, Elster, hung heavy. “I doubt his madness would spare even his only son.”

“So what are we going to do now?” The Prince moved away from sight. Was his means of escape an excuse to finally go rampaging? Even then, did Rostilsav plan to keep him alive at all?

What the others didn’t know was that the Prince was still missing. He was just a doppelgänger. A stupid doppelgänger. And he had to get himself involved in this mess. That does bring up the question that he couldn’t speak. Had the Prince already been killed? If so, then he wondered if his appearance threw him for a loop. And what he had planned to do rectify that problem.

It was times like these that Grisha cursed at himself. There was no way out of this one. He caused the problem to worsen, thinking that he was doing some good. Only to find that his ‘father’ was already seeping into the loony bin. Then he wanted out. His presence was doing nothing to help and now that he was…

Everything he did backfired.

He wasn’t even obligated to do this!

His mouth opened to speak truth, then clamped when Elster interrupted.

“-For now we stick to the plan. After that we will figure what to do, your Highness.”

Once the Soldiers were banging at the door, the group made their move. Sneaking out through the hidden door in the back. The army would be distracted by the destruction of the entrance, and buy them time.

Just as the Rebels had promised, Grisha would be in a neighboring Kingdom within the week. Safely tucked away from the grasps of Rostislav’s bloody hands.

In the beautiful forest filled and meadow lands known as Aiyana.

Liono
10-11-2015, 11:21 PM
Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZWLwz9_7o0)


Memories

Aiyana
Afthonía, the Town of Plenty

"Come on," she called out to me, her voice filled with light. She smiles at me as we walk into the forest, the trail's leaves underneath crackling as they were crushed. "We're almost to the secret spot." "Shouldn't it be closer to town, Munii?" I say, knowing full well why it was far from Afthonía. "The bananas grow here, that's why!" she says, happy she's going on a banana-eating binge. "Hey, don't get a stomachache once you start," I say playfully, as we walk underneath the sunlight, slightly blinded by the branches above us.


Munii Huugin and Geriah Frekiu
Chapter One:
Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

Aiyana
Silva, the Village of Royal Trees

"We are here!" Munii exclaimed out loud to nobody in particular. "We'll get to meet so many new people, see so many things, and eat new foods!"

And the first thing Munii did was go buy bananas.

Munii ran over to the marketplace, trying to keep her cloak in place as she stumbled on almost every little rock and stick imaginable. "Get out of the way, please!" Munii said as she bumped into some poor woman, who's bread tumbled onto the floor. "Get back here, you whelp!" the woman said, but Munii was gone. With surprisingly quick speed at turning her head to look at signs, she finally found the produce area.

"Um, may I help you, young lady?" the brown-haired shopkeeper said, intimidated by the cloak-wearing individual's mysteriousness. If only he knew the person underneath.

"How many bananas do you have?" Munii said, staring at the man.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of those today," he replied back.

"What?! Man..." Munii said with a defeated tone in her voice.

"Uh, you know, you can just buy apples, they seem to have an overstock," the spirit next to her said.

"Bananas and apples have different tastes, G. And I don't like red anyway."

"Um, excuse me," the shopkeeper asked, "who are you talking to?"

"Say no-one, say no-one, Munii!" Geriah whispered urgently.

"Um... It's no-one..." Munii said. I didn't think that would work, Geriah thought. "Okay, bye," Munii said, glum. "Come on, let's go get a room at the inn," Geriah said, "I hope it's not expensive." They came across an inn after much walking, or in Geriah's case, floating. An old building labeled The Basilisk stood before them.

Cfavano
10-12-2015, 01:49 AM
The clattering of wheels rang on the old road as a cart, heavily laden with lumber for market, was pulled toward the Village of Silva. It was making good time, but it was not pulled by a horse, but by a man. It easily weight well over a ton, yet he pulled it along, wearing the collar the horse hitched to the back had worn.

Sweat gleams on his face as he pulls the fully-loaded cart, however he does not slow or stop. Each step, it moves, creaking and groaning under its heavy load. The man does not complain or cry. He merely chants a mantra, lowly. "Aham Brahmaasmi, Aham Brahmaasmi." he extends the chanting to use the entirety of his breath, staying in control of his body. Not ten minutes later, they arrived in town.

The old man profusely thanked Melkor, for that's who it was. Melkor Firehand, travelling monk. Melkor simply bowed with his hands together prayer as the man offered him coins. He took only a small portion of what was offered and said his farewells. With that, he entered the village.

Sy23
10-12-2015, 12:08 PM
"Aiyana. Silva, the Village of Royal Trees." Liaskar Fea'rishaka Siagnisa Se Synea - or "The Slinker" as he preferred to be called - spat angrily. The smaller and less attractive a village was, he had noticed, the more pretentious the name. Village of the Royal Trees indeed. Village of the tumbledown hovels and sparse, diseased looking bushes more like.

The Dark Eldar (for this was his race) never, ever lost their temper. To do so was forbidden by the most ancient scriptures possible, scrolls so old that only the most powerful magic prevented them crumbling to dust. Things so old they had been antiques before humans had crawled from the primeval slime. A dark elf losing his temper could be catastrophic... every tree in the vicinity withering, every cow and sheep dying, every building crumbling to matchwood and every piece of metal to rust would only be the start of it. So Fea'rishaka was always careful never to lose his temper.

Putting it into a pocket and forgetting where he'd stowed it, and being too lazy to search his person for it - now that was a different matter entirely!

His anger swept through him, his eyes blazing. For him - a member of one of the oldest clans - to be exiled, simply for the nebulous "crime" of lese majestie - making a rude joke about the queen - this he could take. Even the fact he had been stripped of everything he owned did not matter, for his race did not care too much about things, as such.

It was forbidding him to associate with Phe'laam, the female upon whom he had set his heart, had already proposed mateship to, and been accepted - that was, he felt, cruel, unusual and unwarranted punishment. And in the weeks he had been wandering since, the resentment had not lessened.

His eyes swept around the marketplace. Fat merchants, and their fatter wives. Mangy dogs, threadbare cats. Stalls and barrows and carts, full of the best this dump could offer, which wasn't much.

A pretty girl, standing at a stall haggling. And with her, a... a thing. A thing that looked humanoid enough, but that - and here, it was his mind and not his eyes that told him - shimmered, not even in the way that light shimmered on water but more as if its existence shimmered. A thing, he knew, that the humans that bustled around the girl would not be able to see. Only the Eldar, who had been created before human's had ever thought of magic (in fact, had not even thought up such subtleties as language, wheels or fire) were immune to the illusion. It was not standing alongside her, so much as... as existing simultaneously with her, as if it were a part of her soul, or a kind of spare.

Mind you, a pretty girl was a pretty girl whatever weird thing had attached itself to her. He shrugged. He had nothing against pretty girls as such... but she reminded him of what he had lost, thus making the anger (that he would not admit to, but which existed nonetheless) flare up before he could even stop it.

The barrels of apples, pears, and oranges, and the single bunch of bananas the barrow keeper had been saving for his own supper, hidden under the counter withered and died in a single moment. The barrow keeper let out a cry of anguish and fear, and sprinted away from the market.

The Slinker watched the pretty girl and her... her strange spiritual accessory or parasite... walk away and, having nothing better to do, and centuries to do it in, followed her, watching her body shift in the fluid way young women have. Followed her to The Basilisk, the shabby looking inn that seemed to be the only one this starless* place presented. And followed her into it, for sleeping on the rough ground yet again did not appeal.

* Starless - forlorn, run-down. More or less translatable as "God-forsaken"

Kris
10-12-2015, 02:28 PM
"I have a job for you".

She leaned against the wooden planks, carefully scanning the stands around her. It was a market day, full of life and activity, but one cannot be too certain. In order to keep leering eyes, she needed to make sure hers were glancing casually at something else.

Her had an an unusual appearance (and that's even before even noticing her tail), one that could easily bring about many prejudices. As people walked by her with disgust in their eyes she noticed them carefully shielding their bags and purses. So be it, let them think she was just a petty thief.

"I'm all ears", she whispered back, stretching, as if per sheer will. As her hands raised above her head she felt something soft landing on her open palms. She then dug into the pouch that was given to her, noticing few coins and an illustrated image of a young man.

"He's cute"

"And royal too", the voice called behind her.

"Really?", she licked her lips as she played with the golden coins, "It hardly covers the effort".

"There will be more"

"Hey, wait a minute!", she felt her blood boiling as she turned around gazing at the wood and finding the only visible hole, "Now listen up Gol'tat, there's no way I'm risking my neck again like-"

"Do I have to remind you the unfortunate incident from last month?", within the darkness his fangs curled up, "tsk, tsk, I hate to bring up the past like this...", his voice hardly held any shame.

The red haired woman grunted, "This is no joking matter... I know you, you never send me to do easy works".

"What can I say, you are... often... one of the best to take on such a task..."

"Why do you want this kid?"

"What does it matter?"

There was a long pause. Shanni then slowly turned around, leaning on her back again, her tail rocking back and forth, "You are right, it doesn't..."

"Good girl... I have my agents scouted the area, once I find a lead, you'll be the first to know".

Shanni nodded, "As long as you pay up..."

"My dear!", he sounded offended, "Do I ever break up my own promises?"

She chuckled, "Only those you want", she started to advance, "It better be worth it"

Liono
10-12-2015, 04:28 PM
Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

Before Munii stepped inside, she looked around to take in the beauty of Silva before going into a raggedy, old building. She noted that Silva had gotten its name for a reason. The empress trees (http://fastestgrowingtrees.com/263627936_o.jpg) were planted everywhere here, along with the beautiful bushes (https://c2.provenwinners.com/sites/provenwinners.com/files/articles/featured-images/rosaosohappypetitpink_img_7135.jpg). These colors of purple and pink mixed wonderfully, creating a pretty scene. Munii wondered how this place wasn't popular with tourists. She looked around some more, and saw a man pulling a cart near the entrance of the village, then entering, and a strange elven man that seemed to be staring at her.

Munii stepped inside the Basilisk, Geriah keeping a close eye out. Somehow, he had the feeling that he was being watched. Inside the Basilisk, it was alright. Not much greater than the outside, but the upkeep was better. There were a few chairs and tables for those who needed a drink and meal, and a staircase that presumably led to the bedrooms.

"Oi, welcome to the Basilisk," said a human man with brown hair and a large beard. "What do ya want?"

"A room, please," Munii said to the human.

Munii paid the man the standard amount for a room, and noticed the same elf that was staring at her before walk in. Geriah felt that same feel of being watched, of being known of, except that it was stronger. It was coming from him.

"I don't like this guy, Munii," he said.

"Oh, it'll be fine. He's just a stranger wanting a room."

Storm
10-13-2015, 09:44 PM
The darkened horizon just now starts to show a orangish red hue as the sun still sits just behind the skyline. Su-Lin softly steps across the grassy ground in a low crouch, her chocolate brown eyes scanning what lay before her. As she hears a slight rustle of leaves, she rests a light weight arrow upon the bow. A fair sized rabbit shows its presence as it leaps from the bush and scampers quickly into the tree line. Effortlessly through a lifetime of practice, she draws the bow taunt and releases the arrow allowing it to whisper through the air. A loud screech echoes through the woods while she keeps a casual pace toward where the deceased rabbit lay. She crouches next to the animal resting her hand between its ears whispering softly
“I am sorry my dear, you suffered not though.” as she removes the arrow from the body.
She carefully picks the animal up and walks a short distance to where she had hours before slept. As the sun breaks the horizon casting light upon a new day, she prepares the rabbit for her breakfast igniting a small fire within some tinder. Though not gifted with fire manipulation, she has learned to raise the temperature within a confined area of a combustible to start fires for cooking.

With the sun now showing full above the horizon and casting warmth across the ground, she has the remains of her breakfast buried for she will not kill as some do for skins. Finishing stowing several of her swords, her bow and arrow quiver within the bedroll, she tightly binds it for carrying. She straps her other short sword across her back and slides her dagger along her hip sheath. She looks up into the morning sky at the beauty of this day before looking in the direction of this next town she wishes to see, Silva, the Village of Royal Trees.

Having made good pace she arrives just outside of this town. There is a buzz of activity with people carrying about their lives and their business. As she enters Silva she ensures she offers polite conversation toward those whom speak to her while at the same time keeping her wits about her. Danger hides in even the most beautiful places not that Silva is that wondrous a place as word made it out to be. She however was a visitor to their soil so she would extend a courteous smile and pleasant tone to those she happened across.

As she deepened her trek within Silva, she happened upon a merchant stand with a brown haired shop keeper persisting
“I tell ya that I did had so much to sell taday. Count ma word lads, ther is gonna be trouble. Sorcery ah tells ya, somtin rotted all I has taday.”

Some look worried; others mumble that the old fool simply had a pint too much ale yet there was not much mind placed on his words by those around. Su-Lin continues past those gathered offering a soft smile and nod to those offering their smiles and stares. As she stands in front of an establishment bearing the words The Basilsk she steps within the structure.

Allowing her eyes adjust to the new lighting conditions within, she looks upon the occupants one by one. A man with brown hair and a full brown beard she assumed was the keeper approached
“What can I get ya lassy?”

Still focusing some attention upon the Elf, she turns to the keeper, softness in her voice she responds
“If not too much trouble, mayhaps a water and any room you may have available.”
Lassy… at least this man had not called her girly … yet. So far if he is the keeper of this establishment, he is conducting himself admirably….

That thought vanished as the brown haired man turned while grabbing a handful of her butt
“Sure thin lassy, get ya all taken care ov”

Su-Lin simply rolls her eyes after the brown haired man copped a feel. The smile on her lips could be mistaken for enjoying his grasp as she thinks that drawing her sword and removing his hand would be bad manors in this town. One day though…. One day.

Cfavano
10-13-2015, 10:30 PM
Entering The Basilisk, he sits down at a table. When a waitress comes to take his order, it is simple. He orders a glass of water, an apple, and some plain oatmeal. As the waitress walks away, he extends his pinky and with a few swift chops, he slices up the apple. With his pinky finger. He breaks the slices in half and mixes them. With a small prayer, he begins to eat. He wasn't necessarily hungry, but he knew he had to feed his body after his morning exercise. What goes out must be put back in.

He is surrounded by people of various races. Such a wonder it was, to see a variety of faces in a public house such as this.

Sy23
10-14-2015, 11:30 AM
The Slinker had developed a certain liking for the innkeeper of the Basilisk. Reason? The man's attitude of respect. Of course, everyone who knew what he was, what he could do, showed respect - they'd be fools not to. Even if they didn't know his abilities and powers, they'd certainly respect the gold coins - each one worth more than the inhabitant of this small village could earn in a year - that he showed.

Yet, the innkeeper had known none of this, seen simply a poor traveler in a threadbare cloak, down on his luck, who may or may not have had some elven blood. Yet he had been polite and generous, in no way contemptuous where many might have. For this reason - for the Slinker appreciated such courtesies - he had ordered a goblet of the establishment's best wine, and the best meal available, roasted fowl, and a room, and handed over enough money to settle his score if he stayed there drinking and eating for a week.

Sitting back, the pains of hunger no longer gnawing at his belly (it had been a long road) Slinker allowed himself the leisure to look around the parlor of the inn. Obviously this village wasn't the backwater he'd assumed, for while he'd been sitting there, a number of people had entered and ordered rooms or meals. As well as the pretty girl with the accompanying presence only he could see, a calm-looking aristocrat (or if he wasn't, he certainly carried himself as one) and an extremely pretty girl from the far, exotic lands where dragons, spices and mind-caressing drugs were in abundance had also come in and given the establishment their custom.

Well, who could blame them? As well as the innkeeper being so likeable, the food was good. Being what he was, he'd have picked the slightest hint of the tubers, leaves and fruits that accompanied his meats being past their best, and they were undoubtedly fresh and of high-quality, as were the chicken, pheasant and turkey themselves. The inn did have a slight problem with rats - what inn didn't - and he amused himself (by way of an extra gratuity) by gently entering the minds of the rodents, and suggesting (with extreme prejudice) they take themselves elsewhere, an order with which they hurried to comply. He noted in passing that the wood of the inn was sound and in good repair, as he'd have expected.

The serving maids, he saw, were of good quality, too. Blond, apple-cheeked and buxom, and all - judging by the way they pushed at their locks, thrust out their bosoms and smoothed their skirts as they replenished his wine - in various degrees of availability.

It was hardly their fault that his eyes, his mind, had somehow become so fascinated by the girl with the strange accompanying presence that he had no mind for them.

Kris
10-14-2015, 01:31 PM
It was too... green for her liking. Too breathe-able, too clean. To someone hailing from the worst of the slums, finding this clearance of paradise within never ending fog of ugly humanity hell seemed like a miracle forming out of a fairy tale.

A year ago, would a bard sing about such location she would dismiss it easily as impossible description. But there it was, the lovely Silva village, a location who seemed to be untouched by the plague of the plotting royalties and nobles in the five kingdoms.

But an old street rat like herself knew that often the beautiful things hide great secrets within. Someone in here ought to know something about the boy she was tracing. The road to the village was not far from where she originally started, and she had no lead to follow anyway.

Sure, she could have waited for Gol'tat to send some kind of intel... But knowing that damn goblin she realized she better do some searching of her own first.

This boy... who was he?

The fact was that Gol'tat was awfully silent about the client in question made her uneasy. The goblin was usually very elven like... He blabbered as if his life was depending on the amount of words leaving his mouth and now, without any good reason, he refused to tell a thing.

She scanned her surroundings. Another simply marketplace, with yet more simple men and women and yet the fact no one truly reacted to her strange appearance made her wonder why. She heard it was possible for some villages or places to be more tolerant and understanding of another species, usually if most of the civilized population was not humans.

She turned to look again, this time with more attention. Yes... Not simple men and women, but elves, dwarves... even orcs... and was that a dryad???

She needed to find out more. Her fingers dug into her pockets where she felt the coins she had just received. At that moment she noticed a small sign that read "Basilisk"- inn or tavern of sort.

Maybe there...

Before she could even think of her next move, her legs already carried her inside.

Storm
10-14-2015, 06:57 PM
Having found a somewhat smaller inconspicuous table to sit, one of the large bosomed maidens made her way to where Su-Lin sat. A small tray with a small loaf of bread, a small assortment of fresh fruits and a small jug of water is placed upon her table. The woman spoke in a rather friendly tone

“With complements of the keeper. He extends his a most gracious offer if you desire. Your room coin will be returned, he can grant you free stay and meals, he only asks in return that you …. entertain… certain well paying guests.” The maiden runs her fingers softly along Su-Lin's well kept pony tail “Such soft hair, you most certainly would earn your keep dearie.”

Years ago she would have walked over to the brown haired man and slapped him in the face. Some towns such offers are more direct and persistent, some are more subtle, others are absent of such insults. She simply has grown immune to such offers. Her gentle tone and features go unchanged

“Please tell his lordship that such offer is kind of him yet I regrettable must turn down his generous offer.”

As the maiden returns to the inn keeper, she slides her dagger out from her sheath keeping the blade under the table shielded from view … just in the event that the keeper does not take her decline well. She watches as the keeper and maiden laugh heartily. Either he accepts declines from women well or the stranger (herself) was being toyed with. In either event, she (and the keeper) could live with this. Since this time her steel will not be coated with ones blood, she slides the dagger back in sheath and continues looking about those within the establishment.

Briefly her attention is drawn toward the cute male as he uses his finger to slice away at an apple. A smile forms on her lips finding this somewhat amusing. Obviously this was no ordinary man and should not be taken lightly should need ever arise for conflict. He however seems sweet enough.

There was then, the Elf. A rarity was it she would see one such as he within the company of others even though he seemed to keep to himself, she couldn’t help to pick up on his intense gaze toward the young girl also within the Inn. Though not gifted with magic, she could definitely sense what felt an unusual air disturbance as the rats fled the confines of this place in a non typical quick haste. To what extent was this one’s abilities she pondered. To what was the girl to him that seemed to captivate such a lone and obviously powerful being such as he. These thoughts filter through her mind as she pours water from a jug into a goblet.

Her attention was drawn toward the front of the Basilisk as the light of day filtered through the entrance as the outline of another female enters. As the entry door closes, she offers a polite nod toward the woman with short red hair whom just entered.

Jinn
10-15-2015, 05:50 PM
Hunkered down in a very less than extravagant Inn was beginning to bore the hell of out of his ‘Royal Highness.’ And when he means less than extravagant, he means one of the most rundown and dusty rooms he has ever seen in his life. In fact, Grisha has never taken occupant to an Inn before (Though the food seemed to be great). So his first impression hasn’t been very exciting. And let’s not forget that he was not allowed, under no circumstances, to take a toe step outside of said room.

The boy plumped himself down onto one of the beds with a huge sigh and coughed lightly from the fairy dust shimmering in the rays of the sun. Oh how he wished he could just go out once for some fresh air. Shifting brown hair tilted as he moved his head to the side to stare out of the window longingly. Wasn’t his chaperon supposed to be back by now? At least he elevated the boredom just a tad.

“The wind is never meant to be restrained.” He spoke to himself loudly in slight irritation. Grisha’s body winked in and out of sight to sync with his mood. Frustration! Frustration! Frustration!! “You just had to get me into all this didn’t you? It’s all your fault. You idiot.” A conversation with himself? Maybe a fever was finally getting to him. Though he was sure a week confined in this small village, within a stupid snake and undoubtedly shady Inn, within a dirty room- would grind down on the mind.

His chaperon had taken new form as a man came into the bedroom without warning of subtly . He was simply in. This man was a grizzly, meaty, 5'10'' with a body so built he almost looked square. However he was older, the top of his hair baled from age, black hair turned into a salt and peeper appearance. His brows lowered, already naturally low and he took one look at the royal. He didn't look at Grisha with the same delicate, respectful, I need to kiss your ass look. He was a mean chaperon, a sturdy one at that.

His metal boot rapped on the floor. He saw the runt looking flustered.

"What's the matter? Is a bad poop stuck in you or something?"

Grisha nearly vanished in startlement, a brief breeze rising at the sudden appearance of the Rebel. Sitting up he frowned before rolling his eyes to show his displeasure. "Haha, very funny." He replied dryly and settled back into the bed. He liked the older male however. The rebel treated him like everyone else and it was refreshing. Grisha didn't have to keep up the princely facade as much around him. In other words he can pretty much relax.

"No, I am unhappy with the fact that I haven't been able to go outside and explore a bit. I've never been outside the kingdom. As far as I know anyways..." He frowned again with a furrow of his eyebrows to act in recollection. Of course he didn't know if the real Prince Desya did. He was sure he did and he could say he has, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Since well, he himself hasn't. Acting like he lost a good portion of his memories was much easier than he figured.

"But a certain old grump won't let me." He smirked with a teasing tone. No matter how much he begged, he doubted the other would let him. So Grisha would let it be for now. In fact, he had already planned on a midnight walk. He just couldn't wait as patiently as he had thought was all.

"Desya, the only way you're getting out of this room is when you need to put your princely, soft-skinned ass on the cold hard wood out the outhouse." George went on to rapping his foot. "Do you want your bathroom break or am I going to walk out of here and leave you here for another three hours?"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." He rolled off the bed and plucked his cloak from one of the chairs, throwing the hood over his head while following the man out the door. He'll never really get used to being called Desya.

Down the stairs they went and into the small shabby bar. Grey eyes glanced from underneath the shadows of his cover to assess the other customers. Since he couldn’t chat away with any one of them, discerning them by clothing was good enough. And, there was a few interesting ones. Anyways, out the back and straight to the unpleasant wood john. He scrunched his nose up at it, his attention drawn to the woods. Grisha would rather relieve himself there.

“I’ll be just a minute.” He spoke quickly, heading to the trees to do just that.

"Don't be too long or I'll know you're getting yourself into trouble" George grunted and turned around to let him be.

As soon as he was hidden well within the trees, Grisha unzipped and breathed a sigh of relief. Once done, he fixed himself back up and strolled out, saluting the man with his fingers. "No trouble here." he sang lightly and stepped on ahead. The rebel only grunted in return and trailed behind, escorting him back into the tavern.

Liono
10-16-2015, 11:38 PM
Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

Before long, many new people had entered the Basilisk, for various reasons.

"Haha! Did ya see that?!" The hearty laugh of the innkeeper bellowed throughout the Basilisk. The maid next to him had whispered something to the woman at the table, came back, and now was bursting into tears of laughter.

"Well I don't think that was very nice," Munii said with a frown.

"Oh, come on. We all need a bit of fun now and again," the innkeeper said before returning to converse with the maid.

"Come on, Geriah, let's go check our room," Munii said, walking up the stairs.

"No, no, no, no," Geriah said, feeling himself being pulled along with Munii. One of the worse parts about being attached to a person instead of being a free ghost is that wherever she went, he went as well. "I want to stay here."

"For what?" Munii asked, "You can't eat anything here." Geriah always joked about being ravenous for food ever since he died.

"Yes, I know, but I want to check something out."

"Fine..." Munii sighed, walking back onto the ground floor again. Geriah settled himself onto the wooden floor, moving towards the Elven man. If he was correct, the man should be able to see him, or at least notice him. Then, Geriah Caused a thing to happen. He knocked over a chair that was next to the Elf. It wasn't hit too hard, but just enough to have it lying on the ground in the aftermath.

Minkasha
10-17-2015, 09:26 PM
A wandering spirit, his sandals stepping over stone of a green laden path. Left behind him, down this road were a series of mountains, the Peaks of Royal Trees. Seclusion, it was he could gain, give to himself these days. But, for all the niceties of Silva its mountain side was riddled with criminals, the excluded of this happy existence.

It walked through the path of tall evergreens, the shadows cast on his pale form and his robes through the branches changed and warped with the forward motion he slowly took. All he had wanted was seclusion, but he had to bathe Chiyo in gore among the rocks and grasses. An eternal life made to cut down those whose were fleeting. He did not want this, but he did so anyway, because that was the curse of his psyche, of his ways. To butcher and to kill with the impulse of violence compels him to grip the hilt of his beloved blade.

Seclusion was no longer possible in the Peaks of Royal Trees, bandits were surly going to find the bodies of their fellows, and seek more violence. It had to distance himself from the situation, returning to life among others, if only for a time. Rock paths were windy but kind to his feet, pounds of silver hair waved side to side just so as he dragged himself along. He had done so for hours, but felt no exhaustion. He had lost many sensations, the ones called negative, but they had all existed to once give the complete puzzle to what life was. Now he was left to be incomplete, of his own karma and the mercy of someone who loved him and loomed with him always.

Silva, he had been here on and off for a year. Whispers said his name among them was Ghost. As if he had become some village bound legend. In a way, he was their indirect protector, violence used to slew the ill-natured hidden in the mountains. But their sinful and exiled numbers were rapidly growing. It wasn’t looking for a path of blood, their deaths did not give him redemption. So he told himself every time after the slewing warpath, his remaining hand had other ambitions, always.

A tall spiked wooden fence kept the village safe, a place of prosperity where the two men standing guard by one of its two smaller side entrances were a Human and a tan complexioned Elf, Wood Elf. In their leather armor they saw It come closer gradually. It stared at them with red eyes that were poking through falling bangs of silver. He did not need them to cause him trouble. Let him be, let him through.

“I want entrance to the village” It said, his handsome tones of voice drowned in grief. His voice was what caused them to look at each other.

“Where do you hail from?” The Human of the two asked.

“The mountains” It said, they looked at each other again. He did not want another two souls reaped by his hand today. Let him be, let him through.

There was hesitation, but the guards knocked on the wooden cut out of a door in the fence, together. It was pulled out by three other guards and on the other side It was stared at with bewilderment and mouths opening in surprise.

It ignored them, entering into this prosperity, a village living off its eye catching, fey magic infused trees. A landlocked tourist attraction that still managed to bring many people of this world together to see how magically infused soil brought out a plethora of colors in the trees’ bark and leaves; even changing the patterns of leaves to grander appearance.

The robed warrior gave no man or woman mind, dragging himself through the rocky thoroughfare of the market. The shops also meant nothing to him. A compromise was made, seclusion sought in a private room. Perhaps then he would not be disturbed by the rowdy and dismissive.

He came into The Basilisk the wooden knobs of his sandals thudding heavily on the black wooden floor. His red eyes scanned, seeing a plethora of people. His eyes narrowed on a small, sensually shaped woman of red hair. Her tail caught his eye, knowing full well what genetic legacy spawned such a tail.

It spent over a decade running from his people, but here he saw one. If she had taken male shape, he would have cut her down. The Water Lands loved the living bodies of Fiendlings, in time that world was going to consume this one. He was certain. Chiyo would deny his acts, surly Chiyo would not see mercy in what he did, but him repeating the same mistake.

And so, she of his people was able to walk off. He had caught eye with a Human man who looked at his eyes, the woman’s backside, and him, trying to imply he had stared at her ass. It narrowed his red eyes, he was easily the tallest being in this building. It was persuasive enough to make the drunk shiver and return to laying his head back on his table. It glanced back at the sensual redheaded woman, the right side of his hip rattled and instinctively his left hand gripped the hilt. For a moment he felt Chiyo shake, though Chiyo was quick to still under his coiled touch. He felt a pang of sorrow pluck a piece of his heart as a young female face came into his mind.

That was only the third time in his undead life that Chiyo gave any acknowledgment of the outside world. What wisdom or path was his blade guiding him to? To do? To walk down?

It was to seek seclusion, though that evolved into seeking answers.

His smoldering eyes kept upon her, leaning himself against a corner and finding some comfort of the partial shadow as light failed to completely span to the corners.

Sy23
10-18-2015, 01:02 PM
Early in his wanderings, immediately after his exile, the Slinker had (he felt, in retrospect) acted like a young warrior recently released from service. He had drunk himself senseless every night, spent most days sleeping or traveling,and at every stop had sought out the prettiest willing woman - usually some skanky tavern maid with lice in the seams of her much-patched dress and greasy hair - to slake his lusts.

These days, however, he had become circumspect. Rumors were abroad, of all kinds of things, and when humans got skittish, he knew, even what little sense they possessed tended to flee for the hills. They would turn upon anything the slightest bit unusual or weird, and he'd be a prime candidate.

Therefore, his current modus operandi had become his norm. The Slinker would select the quietest corner, stay hunched in his cloak as much as possible, and speak politely to the tavern staff without inviting further confidences. When his lust grew too great - and this was, after all, Slinker - he'd signal whoever might be available and reasonably clean looking with his dark, hypnotic eyes, escort her to a quiet place, and get rid of the accumulated need as briefly and quickly as possible. That the (as she thought) small silver coin he'd press into his partner's hand afterwards was later revealed to be a gold coin of such value she might work many months serving stews and drinks to earn meant little, for by then he;d be well away, too fast even for rumor to catch him.

Yes, this means of living had served him well, but, as he sat, drinking tankard after tankard of good wine, other thoughts came. The thought that, Eldar as he was, in some very real sense (and the Eldar are nothing if not real) the description no longer applied to him. He had been exiled, outcast, sent outside of his own. He was not human - he could never be that - yet he was, nonetheless, now simply a pathetic, homeless piece of flotsam, as much as any of the beaten, worn-down humans that shared the tavern with him, desperately attempting to forget their defeat by life in the warm comforts of alcohol, boasting, food and whatever cheap floozy might agree to pass an hour or so with them.

His life, he concluded was, in short, none fit for either elf or man, and could not go on forever. There had to be something he might do... a thing in which to believe, a cause to defend, a dream to chase... or what was he. What indeed?

These thoughts never lasted long, but while they did they dragged him down into the very depths. The melancholy of a dark elf is dark indeed, capable of rendering a verdant paradise into a desert if unchecked, and he forced himself to exercise every ounce of self-control he possessed. Already, the flowers on the wall-box beside him had wilted, and an empty tankard on the table beside him had began to turn to rust!

As he sat, and mused, he saw dimly through the corner of his sharp eyes a plump man stand up, hitch his breeches and square his shoulders in the manner of a man who thinks highly of himself, his charm and sexual prowess, and stride across the floor. The man staggered slightly, for he was full of ale, belched, and re-squared his shoulders.

He was heading, Slinker saw, for the slim-looking girl from the far continent, the one he'd marked down as a warrior. The girl had already been approached by one of the tavern maids, and a whispered conversation had taken place. Even ears as sharp as his hadn't been able to catch its import, but the look on the warrior-girl's face had said much. And anyway, he'd seen the tableau played out many times before - though usually, the girl thus approached had ended up in the landlord's bed, or that of one or more of the other customers, her belly full of free food and drink, her loins full of the man-spurt of some lucky male.

The oriental girl, though, had obviously refused the invitation, for she still sat at her table, minding her own business, and the drunk man was heading towards her, his eyes unfocused but shining.

The Slinker stood up and, so swiftly and silently he might have flitted through the aether by magic, interposed himself between the girl and her suitor.

"Friend, might I mention," he whispered, "that the girl upon whom you have so obviously set your heart appears to prefer her own company. If might suggest... rather than set yourself up for rejection and humiliation... you return to your table and enjoy the other excellent fare this establishment provides. For myself, I have a nearly full jug of the very best wine, which I'd gladly share."

The man scowled at him, his eyes wandering in their sockets, a blast of fetid breath (that Slinker in fact enjoyed, loving corruption as he did) wafting from his wart-strewn mouth as he replied.

"Ah? What? An' how's it yer business, freak? Ah... I sees it. Yeah. You wants her for yourself, I get." He pulled a blunt, yet wicked-looking knife from the folds of his sacking tunic. "Well, see, yous just stand off, and mind your own, or I might just teach yer some manners, see?"

"Please," Slinker replied softly. "I mean no challenge. It's just - I think the lady prefers to be left -"

The man growled. He had always fancied himself something of a fighter and beating up another man always gave him a buzz. To do so in front of the lady could not fail, he calculated, to impress her.

"Back off, strange thing!" he snarled. And when the Slinker made no move to comply, swung the blade through the air.

Had it connected, (and had the Slinker been human) the damage wrought might have been serious indeed. Instead, in the second or so the weapon took to slice through the air, it crumbled to rust, leaving the wielder with a ridiculous look on his face contemplating a handle, now bereft of any blade.

"Wha-a- you slime, That knife cost five silver coins." He adopted a fighting stance, snarling. "Put 'em up!"

The Slinker stood, making no attempt to adopt a stance of his own.

He stood. And he watched...

...as the man doubled up, like one taken suddenly with the worst, most virulent case of indigestion the four kingdoms had ever seen. Vomit and other nameless gunk issued from his mouth, he clutched his generous stomach, and there was a sound like a heraldric trumpet as his breeches became stained with liquid diarrhea. He fell, still clutching his belly, screaming in agony.

A reasonable reaction, given that every scrap of food in his belly had turned instantly rotten.

Stepping over him, the Slinker returned to his own table, passing the exotic-warrior girl's own table en route.

Storm
10-18-2015, 06:16 PM
As she continued to sip at the goblet containing water and consume the various fruits and bread this keeper offered, she continued a watchful eye upon others within this venue. She would not feel insult toward the keepers vial offer as she may have all those many years ago by refusing the tokens this man offers, Were he to demand coin for such now that she will not *entertain* his patrons, she would provide twice the coin he may demand.

While in thought, her attention is drawn momentarily toward the staircase as several figures make their way down and outside the Inn. She would surmise that the one cloaked concealing their identity might be a thief of a tax collector for the way the figure concealed their features. She thought more on the possibility the mysterious cloaked figure more as a tax collector as he seemed to be in the company of a rather large brutish man, mayhaps his guardian or protector. They were absent a short time before returning, Su Lin would continue watching the mysterious stranger with his assumed guard.

As she resumed looking upon the young girl that seemed to be of interest to the Elf, she noted once again that the girl seemed to be speaking aloud to herself. The girl did not seem unkept not dirt on her clothing so dismissed the thought she might not be right in the head. Could this girl be speaking to some form of apparition only she could see, and yes, the Elf could sense? As the girl moves closer toward where the Elf sits, she quirks a brow as a chair at the Elf’s table falls to the side. There was no disturbance within the air, the girl did not make motion toward the chair in any fashion, yes, this girl must have some form of apparition with herself.

Once again the light of day illuminates the entrance of the Basilisk and another figure outlines the entrance. As this rather tall stranger enters, his radiant red eyes are most prominent. This man seems to have his attention drawn onto the red haired woman as he moved himself to a secluded area where he could keep intense focus upon the woman with red hair.

As speculation drifted through her mind as to the nature of this newest guest within the Tavern, her attention quickly focuses upon the rather stoutly man rising from the table he sits with several other equally stout males. The standing male seems to have his gaze in her direction as he adjusts himself taking several steps before belching. Though this man was too far for her to smell the odor of ale he was consuming, she was not unaware of these drunkards. The spirit of a simple grape fermented can cause man, woman or beast more darkness than any magical dark spell can. As the man sweay slightly before starting on his quest toward her table, she briefly looks upon the other two males at his table dearly wishing that the grape’s spirit does not cause her to shed their blood. She slides her dagger from her sheath once again laying it flat under the table which she sits out of view. As the male closes the distance between he and her table, she looks upon his features determining the fastest non lethal area she could strike, she after all does not desire causing one to see the afterlife over a tankard of ale.

Ever so slightly she is distracted by a crackling sound of the goblet she still grips with her free hand. Quickly glancing within she notices the water has crystallized to solid ice and the exterior of the goblet has a sheen of frost upon it. She sets the goblet upon the table, though she was trying to calmly surmise a non fatal encounter with the burly drunkard, inwardly she was angry toward this filthy thing desiring to drip his sweat upon her body, to gag her with his foul breath, to mayhaps even pass her between the others at his table. The grip tightens harder on her dagger mentally playing out gutting the swine as he is before herself, her sword removing the life from those sitting at the table that horrid excuse for a human comes from. The goblet now shatters to ice crystals. Unfortunately for the disgusting pig; he does not see such the warning.

Her brow quirks for the slightest moment. The Elf has stepped between the burly drunkard and herself. Yes, at times there are young men that would step between her and a drunk, usually with darker intentions than a drunk would have, yet this Elf stepping in front of the drunk was … unexpected. She watched with curiosity as the two exchange words, the Elf’s words soft for the drunkard’s ears alone and the drunkard… well… their words are never soft nor for a select few. She watches intently as the drunkard strikes at the Elf with a blade, which … and not as a surprise to her, turns to rust before contacting it’s target. The drunkard took up a typical fighting stance those foul men often do offering combat with the Elf. A soft smile graces her lips as the foolish drunkard relieved the content of his stomach upon the floor as well as defecating uncontrollably. Inwardly she momentarily thinks that her blade certainly could have spilled his stomach’s content on the floor too, though the groin to chest slash would have been harder to recover from.

She slides her dagger back in her sheath before becoming ready to grasp her short sword as the other two males from the table make way toward the third as he screams in agony on the floor. As the Elf steps over the downed man, the other two rush to the man’s side to offer him assistance out of the Basilisk. Her eyes remain now upon the Elf as he makes way past her table back to where he first sat. She did not take surprise as the Elf passed and not taking liberty of professing that she now owed him for his bravery as *pretty men* often would. Though his skin might not have lotions and creams upon them, his beauty lie inward.

She takes a moment to sweep off the crystallized ice fragments from the top of her table that once was the goblet before standing. She walks softly toward where the Elf now sits, the area immediately surrounding her is still a good 5 degrees (2.7 degrees Celsius) cooler than the remaining tavern as she is still seething inwardly about the thought of that disgusting drunkard this gentle soul dealt with, she lowers her head softly speaking

“M’Lord, I wish to express my gratitude for your chivalry displayed before that horrid man. I am known as Su-Lin, thank thee once again for such a rare gesture displayed in my aide.”

Cfavano
10-18-2015, 09:16 PM
Melkor ate his oatmeal in silence. he was aware of the goings on of the tavern, but he typically kept out of other peoples' business unless they called for help. He saw the man go down, filth coming out of both ends, and he laughed inwardly. From what he saw, the man had it coming. It did somewhat reduced his appetite from the smell, but that would not stop him from eating his daily meal. One should not waste anything, and he wasn't about to start.

Taking a break from eating, he checked his coin pouch. he saw he still had some left, mayhap enough for a treat, such as a glass of milk or juice, or maybe some vegetable stir-fry. Or, he could actually rent himself a room. He finished eating, paid for his meal, and then he began to leave.

Liono
10-18-2015, 11:17 PM
Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky

As soon as the man started to purge his digestive system of any food material, Munii went back upstairs. Geriah had no complaints. A maid came over with a mop, and another started to kick the man towards the doorway.

They stood in front of the door to their new room and opened it. Inside (http://travel.usnews.com/images/articles/94/Medieval_Hotel_Detenice.jpg), Munii set down her bag, and sat on the bed. Geriah stood in the corner, deciding on what he should do tonight. Sleeping didn't do much for him, as he never got tired, and he wouldn't get a refreshed feeling. But it did help quicken the night. On the other hand, Geriah could explore and get intelligence, or just for fun, but Silva didn't look like it was filled with adventure.

Munii looked out the window, and saw a small little boy, seemingly homeless, in an alleyway. He had dirt all over his rags, and was noticeably skinny. He hadn't eaten well. Poor boy, Munii thought, Maybe I could get him some food, and a toy! Now that she thought about it, Munii did see a toy shop on her way here. So first she would get some food-an apple from the market-and a toy. Hopefully she had enough in her purse.

Munii went downstairs again, and stepping over the man, who's designated maid had pushed him a few feet closer to the entrance, pushed open the wooden door. Outside, Munii checked to see if the boy was still there, and went to the market. A new woman with red hair and brown eyes was there in place of the brown-haired shopkeeper.

"Um, one apple please," Munii asked.

"Oh, sorry Miss, but we're closed for today," the woman said apologetically, "We don't have any stock."

"But didn't you have fruit earlier?" Munii asked, remembering the ton of apples that had just been in that barrel earlier.

"Yes, we did, but suddenly it just disappeared. The shopkeeper earlier, Marty, I think it was, said someone just came up and all his food rotted away, just like that. But, when I came over here, the barrels were cleaned out, but I dunno what somebody would want with rotten produce."

Well that was a disappointment, Geriah thought. "Let's just go get that toy you wanted."

Storm
10-21-2015, 04:08 PM
The Slinker did not even know exactly why he had intervened. Certainly, he'd had no conscious wish to show off in front of the exotic warrior, no matter how pretty she was.. .though, as he now saw her face in a good light, he saw she was pretty indeed. The nature of his race caused him, at times, to intervene when something weak was beset by something stronger, instinctively moving in to act as protector. And this, he realized, was what had happened, though not quite, perhaps, in the manner a casual observer might have supposed.

"Good lady Su-Lin, I am Liaskar Fea'rishaka Siagnisa Se Synea," he grinned. "Though why anyone of sense would waste good time giving tongue to that lot is a mystery indeed, since 'Slinker' is enough for the purpose of addressing me, and suits me better besides."

He gave the briefest glance at his recent victim, still crouched on the floor, whining in agony, as his friends attempted to assist him. "Though i fear you do me more honor than I deserve, thanking me for my intervention. 'twas not you I sought to protect - my judgement tells me such would be like taking jewels to Tamrat - or beauty to Ilara, for that matter - but the poor creature currently lying there regretting his actions." His glance flitted to the vessel, on which a few small shards of ice still floated - "My guess is a lady of the elements might have been less merciful towards him than I."

Her chocolate brown eyes still focused upon Slinker, her features unparsed toward he speaking of her being a lady of the elements though most whom come to gain this realization often learn of it at their peril or try to use her abilities to their gain. She crouches along the chair the apparition had previously caused to fall setting it now upright before delicately seating herself across from Slinker. Her tone soft, the air temperature surrounding her now back to normal for the room, a gentle smile shown

"M'Lord, be it I whom you sought to protect or the male laying on the floor of this establishment, rare is it that one would think of any other than their own affairs, for that is reason to speak words for your most gracious action Sir Slinker."

She casts her gaze back toward the man still wincing in addition to his comrades. She would not have desired do that man harm, yet Slinker's words do ring true, the man could possibly have met with her blade... worse though, could have met her sometime uncontrollable rage. She would try not think such unpleasant thoughts while casting a soft stare toward Slinker

"Please forgive my bold words Sire, might I understand what travel brings you to such a town as this?" still is curious if this Elf was familiar with the young girl and her apparition from earlier this day.

"Now that, fair Su-Lin, is a long question, the answer of which would bring slumber upon you as quickly as the entire contents of this innkeeper's cellar." he spread his hands. "Shrinking and corrupting it as best I might, I am an Eldar with no m'erque* - a despised outcast, stripes upon my back, and shunned even by my own kind. And if the Dark Ones shun you, there's not much lower you can fall." His eyes betrayed amusement, rather than shame. "Your reputation has already fallen like a dead leaf from a tree at the dawn of winter, simply being seen with me. Though... well, my instinct tells me you care little for that."
(Lit: "Heath" - essentially meaning "home" or "country" in this context.)

As Slinker speaks his words of being a shunned outcast, momentarily her mind drifts upon memories of her own family, a strong warrior whom fell in love with a mighty elemental witch ... her parents though tolerated ... more out of fear of the wrath her father would unleash on any whom might have thoughts of harm toward his wife, a mighty warrior in her own right, or his beloved daughter. Buried in her mind harbored the day word of her fathers death reached the village, she being told to flee the village she grew within, the dozen fell by her mothers hand before joining her beloved husband. The three whom lay in wait for her, their blood spilled upon the ground she knows she could never set foot upon again ... would this be for her safety ... or the safety of whom may try do her harm. The pained expression upon her face vanquishes as quickly as it was shown. Whom other than another outcast could hold understanding of her own thoughts. Her tone remains soft and pleasant

"M'Lord continues to gain the admiration of but a simple woman. Know sire, tho are not the only to walk the soil as an outcast. The flesh before you was bore from a forbidden relationship, one not of my fathers kind fell within his heart. My home is the air and soil for which I walk. Tis kind that one whom speaks of being outcast would hold concern for my reputation. I assure you this sire, I have nay reputation in which requires protection. Though our appearances may differ, you wisdom may exceed any I would gain in ten lifetimes, I freely can say that we both have walked the same soil we nay can claim as our home."

At her compliment, the Slinker laughed. "Wisdom? Beautiful one, trust me, I've never been accused of having that. Not even by myself. I confess, though, your story intrigues me. Why should a relationship that produces..." he nodded towards her " ...an offspring like yourself, be forbidden? My kind don't usually mix with the -" he broke off the somewhat racist term he had been about to speak "...those who dwell in the light, for obvious reasons. Yet I hear tell that a woman of the elements might take whom she likes. Or, perhaps, I pry too deeply?"

She offers a soft smile as Slinker mentions that a woman of the elements may take whom she ever may desire. The few she has shared her history with naturally presume that it was her mother whom was one with elements. She had picked up on his pause, softening his words so not to be offensive was again something which impressed her. Soft smile remaining, soothing was her tone

"M'Lord, common is the misperception thou speak of. Twas my father whom was powerful in mastery of nature and of all elements. My mother was on quest of exploration, a masterful warrior in her own as she happened upon the soil of my fathers domain. His people were fiercely protective of their purity with nature, he and my mother would often speak words to me that they despised each other upon first happenstance. The fire in her soul as well as his fierceness meshed as one over several moon rises. They became inseparable. I am the result of their union. I learned use of bow and blade in addition to becoming one with the land and air. His people feared what I was becoming, my mother also spoke that I would never be able to set foot on her birth soil as her own would cast me into a fiery pit. Tis true, women of the elements may chose which she desires as a mate..."

her tone softens more, eyes looking toward the floor for an ever brief moment "....yet I desire not to bring life into this soil for that precious life would have much pain and sorrow cast upon them while there is breath in their body." She then looks back up, clearing her mind of that she is troubled by ... usually in her dreams, a smile back on her face
"Please forgive a woman's ramblings M'Lord. We both have roads we have walked upon which were paved with the thistles of the thorniest of bush. Know I speak only true words sire, without falter it brings a warmth to my heart to have thy acquaintance."

"Feared what you were becoming," the Slinker mused. Just for a second, his face took on a genuinely serious tone, and melancholy dulled his sharp, dark eyes. A small flower, set in a vase on the adjoining table, wilted. "Yes, communities have a habit of doing such, don't they? But, sweet Su-Lin, I likewise feel the warmer for us having met."

He briefly touched his index fingers to the side of his forehead and lowered his head slightly, the sign of respect among all species of the Eldar. And one which the Dark Elves rarely gave at all, and then only in extreme circumstances.

Familiar with many customs, she is moved by such a rare gesture one of Slinker’s kind offer. With the interior being warm with the humidity of perspiration of others lingering within the air, something she is acutely attuned to notice, she thinks this is the ideal setting. She softly cups her hand over the center of the table for which they sit, underneath her cupped hand could be heard a crackling sound. As she intensely focuses upon her hand, she slowly lifts her hand displaying underneath a small crystallized ice rose. She softly gazes upon Slinker, her tone gentle

“Sire, please accept tis but small token of thy friendship. As with all possessions, this shall eventually fade away. This delicate tokes will melt back into nothingness quickly yet will it ever be truly gone?”

She reaches her hand to softly rest her hand along Slinkers cheek if he does not back away
“Though the physical may join the air quickly, thy eyes shalst store this token within thy mind forever.” She moves her hand to rest gently upon his chest… again if he does not back away “Tis small token also will find room in thee heart as memory of a humble woman whom you may consider friend as I consider thee of my friendship.”

She ever so gracefully slides her chair back standing offering a curtsy, tone soft and polite
“My friend, till our eyes next meet.”

The journey wearing away bringing a heaviness to her eyes, she turns and starts toward the stair case so as to go to her room for desired sleep. As she softly steps across the floor, the odorous burly drunk and now his two friends to his side are to her front. Sylvia spewing from his mouth as he barks out
“Ya are that tings…” pointing toward Slinker “…whore, arnt ya wench!”

Desiring not to cast a horrid image toward Slinker’s eyes after providing him such a delicate token of friendship, also realizing that it was more likely the spirit of the ale causing this disgusting pig before her to speak such vial words, she simply steps to his side passing by at the ready to decapitate this man should he press the issue. As she reaches the staircase, the pig still in a loud obnoxious tone
“Mark ma word wench, ya will squirm under me soon!”

Looking back, she takes sight of the filthy drunkard and his two accomplices now seem to have their attention focused upon the woman with short red hair as they now stagger toward her direction. As she continues up the stairs, softly shakes her head. Slinkers words resonate in her mind where he felt that she would be less forgiving of the burley drunk than he was. She offers herself a slight giggle thinking that those three would be in far less forgiving hands should they foolishly venture further as the red hair woman did not seem the soft sort, certainly the stranger with fiery red eyes who kept firm gaze toward the woman did not seem at all the forgiving sort.

At the top of the stair case she walks near silently down the wooden floor to her room. Unlocking and opening, she takes a moment to open her window allowing the fresh air outside dance through her room. She lay back in the bed and allows sleep embrace her.

Kris
10-26-2015, 05:03 PM
Shani was one with the shadows and lurking from them was her trade of art. She was sitting by herself beside one of the far reached tables in a gloomy corner.

"Good lord!", said one of the ale ladies to the bartender, "That table was unoccupied just a minute ago!"

"What are you talking about woman?"

"Did you see that person enters?"

"Busy with the glasses…", he raised his head up, "Not bad on the eyes… Go over there, she might fetch some coins"

"That woman is a devil", said the young waitress noticing the tail coming out of the woman's back, "Not only that, how can one just enters without making a sound?? If I talk to her I'd be cursed!!"

"And if you don't you'd be fired, now off you go"

The young woman made her way for the red haired in the corner, shaking as she made small steps for her direction, "Hello", she tried to fake a smile, "Anything I can get you?"

Shanni sensed her and as she turned to look the woman felt herself being sucked into her gaze and green eyes. They burned with passion, curiosity… with hunger… The ale lady trembled, feeling like a locked animal in a cage. A moment of silence passed between the two where one lady scanned the other. When Shanni felt her curiously was satisfied she turned her gaze away again.

The hostess swallowed, "I'll leave you be… that….", she glanced quickly at the bartender. She didn't want to go back empty handed, but at the same time she wanted to keep away from this demonic tailed woman, "I mean… just… if you need anything… you know… I can"

Shanni nodded and the woman took off.

Once she left, Shanni allowed herself to be more aware of what was around her, giving her a chance to return a glace to the person looking at her.

For now she just stared... but in a way that looked as if her mind was in another place, which truth be it was. Getting used to be looked at gave her the ability to block those visions away. But should tension arise, she'd be more than willing to bite back.

Woodrat
10-26-2015, 11:32 PM
Alwyn sighed slightly, as he watched the last of the wagons disappear from view.

His father was going to go spare.

With a small pivot of the heel Alwyn walked back into town with his eyes focused on the path ahead of him, a polite nod toward a couple guards as he reentered the village.

He was supposed to be on the lead wagon that had just left, their wooden hulls filled with lumber, grain, and other miscellaneous goods that cities and towns could not live without, or at least not live well without. That was his job, to escort and guard what his father called “the lifeblood” of a kingdom. This lifeblood consisting of raw materials, goods, messages, passengers, as it went from town to town. It was a decent enough job, got him from behind a desk looking at figures in a ledger. He got to go to exotic foreign lands in some cases, meet new and interesting people who thankfully more often than not did not want to kill him. In all those adventures of a sort he was always surrounded by friends and co-workers. People that he could rely on to have his back if things went awry. However he was always shackled to where the trade was, going where he was needed, not necessarily where he wanted.

Instead he had decided to take a small, break, telling the caravan master that he’d make his own way home in a few days time. Oh his father was going to be furious when he found out. But that was a few days time at least, hurray for small rebellions.

Now he was able to chose his own path, and completely alone.

'Totally not intimidating at all.' Alwyn thought as he pulled his soft faded green cloak closer around his short frame as if it was a shield to protect himself.

With a side to side motion of his head he looked up at the sign above the door of the building his feet had led him to.

The Basilisk

Well if he was going to be alone he might as well have a room for the night to plot where he was going to go next. With a small motion he brushed his reddish brown hair out of his face, adjusted his rucksack and stepped inside.

Zirra
10-27-2015, 12:04 AM
Somewhere in some dark, foresty place, a shadow lurked. Bright eyes gleamed silver and white fur flashed like a flag, and yet somehow, the creature managed to stay hidden. It trotted silently on massive pawpads of silk, each step silently falling on the leaf-laden ground, and with each said step, it's pace increased. Not full speed yet, but not a simple trot, either, the beast seemed to be going somewhere, and with a purpose in mind. Indeed, this would seem so to anyone other than the snowy wolf himself. In reality, he had no goals or any places he wished to be - he was simply wandering, split off from his family of his own accord. He had been wandering like this for about a week, now, stopping at little taverns here and there when a warm bed was desired, but even then he preferred to live off the land as his ancestors had. He had't eaten in days, though, and contemplated approaching civilization. He was at the edge of some sort of town, now, circling it and studying it's inhabitants. Nervous when it came to revealing himself, Deaxsis hardly ever came out into the open or revealed his lycanthy to anyone, and he had a good reason to. His father had made that mistake and had been killed, thanks to it. "No thanks." Axis thought bitterly, gleaming white teeth bared in a slight growl. "I'd rather not die, quite yet." And yet he was temped... Tempted to approach the people, tempted to spend what little coin he had on selfish pleasures such as new clothes and a nice warm bath. His current clothes were ripped, tattered, and blood-stained, the leather hardly covering anything other than the basics, and he knew quite well that he would soon need to change. So, the current dilemma was to approach the town, or to stand back and just fare with the few things he could find.

Sighing, the werewolf of pure snow rose on hind legs, a clawed paw-like hand of sorts trailing through shaggy, un-kept neck fur. Blue eyes narrowed in defeat as his more civilized, proud side took over, seeming to take control of his mind. "There's no point in staying filthy and sore if there are means to which you can get clean." It thought, and his large ears flicked backwards. It was no use denying this part of him what it wanted, Deaxsis thought, noting bitterly that if it was happy, he would be, too.

His eyes fell down to his clothes, then. If you could even call them that, anyway. They were basically non-existent, and if he changed into his human form, he'd only be even more naked. "Reveal myself, it is." Deaxsis thought, equally as bitter as before, blowing a breath through his nostrils. This land was filled with mythological creatures, right? Surely, he'd be no worse than anything else they'd see. Hopefully.

Hope was a word Deaxsis no longer took seriously. It was a fake word, just as fake as he'd once thought leprechauns to be. The brute couldn't help but let out a snort at this thought, his blue eyes rolling at his own minds' choice of words. "Well." He muttered aloud, his deep voice ringing in his chest with an odd roughness that hinted to a lack of speaking. "I suppose it's no use standing here waiting. If I wait much longer, it'll be too late to do anything." He continued, stepping forwards so his tall frame headed towards the town. If people looked at him funny, he'd simply reply with a small growl, and if they said anything, he just wouldn't reply. This was what passed through his mind as he opened the door to a bar of sorts, eager to get something real to eat.

Liono
10-27-2015, 12:23 AM
Chapter One: The Things We Do Not Seek.
Chapter One: Stars that Twinkle Brightly in the Sky (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmQT7b57mow)

They entered the Toy Shop.

Inside, shelves lined the walls, filled with children's toys, little bundles of fun for every kind of small person. Dolls of white fabric as their skin, tiny black eyes that always seemed to stare at you, little dresses of an assortment of colors filled a part of the wall. Tiny wooden horses sat on another, their carving obviously the work of an experienced craftsman. Small figurines of knights and ladies, painted with the most careful artist of all the land stood, their bodies looking like they were guarding something, though it was just a wall behind them.

"Hello! Welcome to the shop," a man with deep black hair and sharp yellow eyes called to them. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, I don't know, there are so many here..." Munii said pondering, "Which do you think, Mister..."

"Just call me S.F," the man said, a small grin appearing on his face. "It depends, is it a boy or a girl?" S.F asked.

"A boy," Munii answered.

"Well, maybe he would like this horse," S.F said, handing them a small figure of a pony, painted white. "Or maybe this would be better?" He held up a tiny, yellow ball.

"I'll take the horse," Munii said.

"Good, that'll be this much..." Munii paid the shopkeeper, but before moving on, she saw something in the corner of her eye. A small, pale girl was there, fiddling with her dolls. Sat on the floor, she looked up and waved at Munii with a sad smile on her face. Wait, Geriah thought, That's another spirit like me! Geriah started to walk over to the girl, but before he could take two steps, the spirit stood up and walked away into the wall.

Outside, Munii looked for the boy everywhere she went, but she couldn't find him anywhere. He was gone. "Oh, well..." She put the horse on the ground where the boy was earlier, hoping he would find it when he came back.

Sy23
10-29-2015, 02:38 PM
It was the best present the Slinker had ever received.

To say this, however, would be to damn it with faint praise indeed. Like saying that Sol is the best sun Earth has, or that the legendary solitary phoenix is the prettiest of her kind. For, in truth, it was the only such token he had ever been given. The Dark Eldar did not go in for the exchanging of gifts, and since he had been on the road, there had been little opportunity for such. The "overpayments" he gave whores, out of sympathy and charity he did not count.

Were the Slinker honest with himself (and it was a core part of his character that he could never be anything but) he had to confess to an unfamiliar feeling. It was at once uncomfortable and ecstatic, disconcerting and satisfying, ice-cold and beautifully warm. He stared at the small crystal flower for some time. It could never wither, never age, never grow. It was incorruptible, frozen in eternity, a thing that the Dark Elves could no more comprehend than an eagle might understand a saddle, or a worm hobnail boots.

The feeling it caused was even less understandable. yet, somehow, he... liked it.

he had half hoped the drunks might have continued to harass the elven girl, for he knew she was in no danger from them, and the interaction might have delayed her. Yet, they had enough sense at least to allow her on her way. He also wondered if they might return to him and seek revenge, but in this regard, too, they had at least the sense they were born with, and contented themselves with sitting at their table muttering.

Looking around the tavern, he caught sight of the red headed creature with the tail. The tail intrigued him, for though he'd seen hybrids before (there is not much a Dark Elf hasn't seen) they were usually grotesque, misshapen and revolting. This creature was anything but. In fact, with the tail tucked away, as it was now, she looked just like a somewhat attractive human.

Scratch that. A very attractive human indeed.

The way the ale girl had approached her had told him volumes. She was one of those female warriors who, simply by their gaze, could freeze lesser women (or even men) into immobility. Appropriate enough, he decided, for the customer of an inn called The Basilisk. It had been no surprise that the drunks had approached the elf girl rather than her... Su-Lin, formidable as she was, did not actually look fierce. Whereas this girl...

When the ale girl approached him (having taken a moment to compose herself... and, truth be told, smoothed her skirts and patted at her hair... he ordered another jug of wine and, on impulse, tossed the girl a coin twice the value he had originally intended. Whispering, he instructed her to take the red-headed girl with the tail whatever she craved.

"And if you're frightened of her," he added, "blame whatever angers her on me. Tell her I insisted you take it to her."

A few seconds later the ale girl, trembling in every limb and barely able to balance the shaking tray, made her way towards where Shanni sat.

Storm
10-29-2015, 06:53 PM
As the three burley drunkards cast their oversized arses upon chairs surrounding their original table, the liquid spew from the more boisterous of the lot and which had the displeasure of striking an attack upon Slinker earlier, continues to chaff upon the brutes skin much as a rodent would gnaw away at a wall. The odor ferments about this man till such time even to the other two drunkards it casts offense.

“Daym it Eyrle, ya needs ta really go and change ya britches. Ya are worse dan da swine pen on da hardst o summer days.” the drunk who was speaking doing so with a look of disgust upon the other.

The soiled drunkard rises from his seat, clothing chaffing more redness upon his skin, his voice booming with intent for his table mates yet near echos through the confines of the tavern

“Mark ma word lad, dat winch will squirm unders me pon ma return!” also casting a glazed stare in Slinkers direction "...an dat freak will meet wit ma axe!"

With that, the stocky odorous drunkard staggers toward and outside The Basilisk. The burley drunkard makes his way down the middle of the paved way shoving an elderly gent to the side, his echoing tone booming
“Make way haggard arse…”

The elderly gent now dust covered having tumbled several times looks toward Eyrle with distain coughing
“One day I tells ya…”

A soft breeze swirls through Su-Lin’s room as her eyes stir upon sound from outside her window. She rises and walks softly to her window so as to close the window. As she casts her sight upon the horrid man from previous whom the kindly Elf selflessly intervened on her behalf, her soft chocolate eyes narrow as the brutish man shoves yet another, an elderly woman, to the side. She looks up toward the bright blue sky with the sun shining down, she steps away not desiring to cause this beautiful day disrupted by creating dark clouds which would corrupt the blue sky. As she steps along her bed, she crouches looking into her quiver selecting a well balanced arrow while also sliding her bow from under the bed. She returns to the open window casting her sight upon that foul beast making way up the street causing the normal disruptions one of his nature typically do. Her cheeks are hot as her anger boils, despite her not desiring to destroy the open blue of the sky, there is some darkening clouds forming just over the Basilisk. Softly she mutters more to herself ‘no…’ having come to realize the swirling darkness within the clouds overhead. Just as quickly as the clouds darken, they dissipate back to clear blue while she rests the arrow upon bow tautly drawn back. The color of her eyes now a brilliant white focuses upon the beast just outside typical archery range. Her focus purely upon that horrid man, her mouth drawn back in a snarl to the point her nose wrinkles as she releases the arrow. The arrow speed enhanced as a strong blast of air increases speed.

The burley man has his arm cocked back ready to crash down upon another to be victim has a sudden pained look flash across his face as he staggers forward a pace. The lad that was about to receive the fist crashing into his youthful body notices an arrow head protrude from the brutish man’s chest as the beast staggers forward falling face down into the street, arrow resting in his back, the street drinking his blood as it flows onto the dryness of the ground below. As the arrow head ruptured his heart, the brute lay dead in the dusty street. A woman steps toward the body raising her head spitting to the dead

“Finally ya rattld da wrong tree…”

Su Lin could not hear the conversations yet could tell by the way passers kicked at the body that there would not likely be a magistrate inquiry into this man’s demise. Her eyes fade back to chocolate brown as she replaces her bow under her bed. She runs her hand along her neatly kept ponytail and adjusts her clothing before placing a small amount of aloe plant extract in her hands rubbing the cream in to keep her hands soft and moist. She removes a circular brilliantly polished gemstone (mirror concept) gazing upon her reflection ensuring her appearance is presentable; after all, she is a lady. Not a moments mind is paid to the thought of that evil being she just returned to nature.

She walks to her door stepping back out walking quietly down the hall and starts down the stairs gracefully. As she reaches the bottom she casts her gaze upon those old and new assembled. She does take time to locate her friend offering a lady like curtsy in Slinkers direction before making way toward an unoccupied table yet one of the remaining drunks steps in her way
“Lass.. know ya shal belong ta our mate pon his return…”

She looks softly upon the man, tone soft and gentle
“Then I pray he be of better mind upon his return dear man.” as she steps to the side. She has already a mindset the other two are but pawns to the horrid man whom she returned to nature. As she walks toward her intended table, hand by her dagger should she have the wrong mindset, the other returns to his table to await Eyrle’s return. One of the drunkards pounds his fist upon the table bellowing
"Me pint is dry, fill it ya worthless wench" directed at a maiden

Su Lin continues to locate an empty table taking a seat looking upon the occupants of the tavern as one of the maidens brings her a small goblet of water.

Kris
10-30-2015, 08:19 PM
There was a moment of silence when both the ale-lady and Shanni looked at each other as the last was holding a bottle in her hand. Once again she waitress felt that disturbing glances as cold sweat ran down her nape with shivers passing down her clothing. She was once again an object to this demonic fiend lady who was studying her from head to toe.

She sighed in relief when she grew bored and looked away, "I didn't order anything... Leave me be".

Something woke within the hostess as she squeezed her fists and mastered all her courage to slam down the drink on the table. Was it because of how easily she was dismissed, or because it was the tune in which she was told to leave? She wasn't sure herself, but the waitress felt the need to let Shanni know she was not to be toyed with.

"Well apparently someone thought against it", she swallowed and tried her best to keep her standing sure and steady. She was not going to show any weakness. Tail or not, that girl can still bleed if stabbed, and the waitress was furious enough to give it a try.

Shanni looked around slowly. She blinked once at the waitress, then quickly scanned her surroundings, "Who?", she asked.

The waitress looked back at the dark elf at the corner and Shanni didn't need any further input to realize it was him. She looked again at the waitress as she stood up slowly leaving 2 silver coins at the table, "Never let someone buy you a drink unless you are sure of their intentions... and willing...".

Shanni was puzzled. Her mission just started and someone was coming for her? But why? It was high time to pay that person a visit.

***

"Did the goblin sent you?", Her voice hissed at his ears. It was somewhat sweet and alluring, but it indeed startled him. He never saw her coming. He might have smelled her or somehow sensed her, as those dark elves usually do, but he sure looked surprised. Maybe he just played into it?

Whatever it was, she didn't even gave him a chance to speak and before long she set beside him, placing the bottle he so kindly bought her, "I know he doesn't usually work with elves, but I guess the situation has changed?"

She placed two glasses for him and her and started to pour, "I paid for this. It was kind of you but I know presents don't come off cheap.... So... Any news?"

Cfavano
10-30-2015, 09:20 PM
Melkor was about to leave, when he saw one of the bottles behind the bar. It was rice wine, the markings indicate that it was made by his brothers in the monastery. While he typically eschews alcohol, whenever he finds a bottle of this specific variety, he tries to drink at least some. Going over to the bar, he places a coin and orders a tumbler of it. He sips it slowly, and, as usual, it burns all the way down. 'Liquid fire' indeed, as it is called. The bottle was old, and mostly full. Either it just recently got there, or not a lot of people like it.

At that moment, the doors opened, and a group of armed men came in. Melkor spared them a look. By the poor quality of their weapons and gear, they were either militia or bandits, and considering they looked shabby themselves, it was most likely the latter. Melkor goes back to his drink as one, likely their leader walks up to the stool Melkor is sitting at. "Hey, that's my seat." Melkor ignores him as the man gets more irritated. He kicks the stool out from under Melkor, and Melkor catches himself with his foot, still looking like he was sitting, but keeping himself up only with his foot. The man finally loses it. "That's it weirdo, I'm taking you outside!" He touched Melkor's shoulder and, in a flash, Melkor splashed him in the face with his drink, and spun as his other hand ignited and he touched the Bandit's face instantly igniting it, and then, with his foot, tripped the man and, as he hit the ground screaming, stomped on his head hard enough to crush it.

For a moment, the entire bar would stare in shocked silence. Then, the sound of breaking glass signified total bedlam as the floor erupted into a brawl. Melkor fought through the crowd, pulping skulls with his bare hands, and even put his fist through a man's chest. With every strike, so falls another bandit or fighter, as he makes his way toward the exit.

Woodrat
10-31-2015, 01:08 AM
Of course it went badly.

One moment he had been talking to the barkeep, paying for a room. Next moment a dumb arse foreign monk had decided to light a person on fire and kill them. Now the dead man’s mates had gotten involved and fists and other miscellaneous objects commonly associated with a tavern brawl were flying and the powder keg was in full explosion. Of course it couldn’t have waited until Alwyn was a floor above, or better in fact still outside the doorway. Nor could it of been a simple fight, someone had to die and now things were going to get bloody and messy.

Quickly skimming the crowd with his eyes, Alwyn tried to take stock of the situation. Trying to get to the door was not in the cards for him. For one it was on the other side of the fight now in full swing. For two the bloody stupid monk was headed toward it like a ship in the middle of a storm. Vetoing that option he skimmed his eyes across toward the people in the room. For the most part the brawl consisted of what one would normally find in this affair. However there were a few people that stood out along the edge. Bright red haired lass toward the far corner along with a dark elf, want to avoid both of them. Close to them was a smaller lady sitting by herself next to an empty table, quietly watching the brawl. Someone would be dumb enough to take a swing at her. Much closer than those three was a big guy with a grudge making his way toward counter. The stairway to the next floor was still clear aside from a couple barmaids who had taken refuge there. Simple plan, avoid the fight take the stairs go out the top and come back in when everyone was done trying to flatting someone else’s nose to a pulp. That was if the building was still standing when all was said and done. It was at that point Alwyn became distinctly aware of a large meaty hand as it reached down toward his shoulder.

Oh right, big guy with a grudge. Alwyn looked the part of an easy mark with his ill-fitting armor and youthful looks. This was a drunk reeking of cheap rum that wanted a punching bag that was not going to give much resistance before he worked himself up to someone bigger.

Well sod that.

With a light twist Alwyn dodged the giant’s hand and ducked in close before he brought his knee up sharply into the body of the drunkard. There was a grunt from the drunk as his eyes crossed. A piece of him that was very private and only of interest to him and any lady friends he might have was suddenly a exploding ball of pain. Before the man could rectify the situation and turn Alwyn into a reddish smear across the wooden planks Alwyn balled a fist and swung upwards, striking the man with an awkward but solid uppercut across the jaw that jerked the man’s head back.

With a small groan the man teetered for a moment before toppling back, revealing an empty space before him. Alwyn was already making a beeline for the stairs, dodging anyone that got in his way and massaging a rather sore hand as he fled.

Storm
10-31-2015, 04:23 PM
As she sat at her table sipping some water from the goblet, she kept focus upon the new arrivals to the tavern bearing arms. Their unkempt clothing and mussed faces she surmised they to be weary travelers or mayhap bandits. They appeared to take interest in the cute man at the bar. As one struck the stool which the cute man sat upon, she noted the man did not fall upon the floor. A tingle of concern drew upon her as she continued to watch to the point where the cute man threw a liquid onto his person. Fully realizing what was about to transpire, she focused all her attention upon the man now coated in liquid, a lifetime of practice gives her this ability yet not to the extent her father had, she corrupts the air surrounding the first just as the cute man sets flame. As the other screams out in pain, she intensifies the air about the man on flames now offering protection from the flame though he still screams, now more out of panic as the flames will still be visible to his eyes, at most he would come through this with what appears to be a moderate sunburn. Keeping focus while expanding the protective air further from the man’s body, she is caught a surprise as the cute man trips the other to the floor, this shall cause more difficulty in keeping the protective air about the downed man.


As with the others within the tavern, her heart sinks as a gasp of horror escapes her lips watching as the cute man raises his foot before stomping downward crushing the life out of the downed man… over a BAR STOOL. As the realization resonates through the tavern, the crashing of several ale pints breaks the shocked silence while she keeps strong focus upon the air about the deceased body. She has more blood on her hands than many may believe, yet this act brings pain to even her heart. As a full brawl erupts, she is finally able to dissipate the air to the point the flames extinguish, her eyes cast toward the cute man making way for the doors and outside. Her anguish increases immensely as she watches in disbelief as the cute man continues to unnecessarily take lives upon his retreat.


The pain must however be set to a side for there is untold danger for those whom are within the grasp of the spirit their consumed ale brings out within themselves. Normal is it for such drunken displays of battle be found within any tavern, yet this shall be so different. She has worry that one possessed by the ale might happen upon the tall figure with fiery red eyes, mayhap the woman with red hair or even her dear friend Slinker. She is certain as the sun beams down upon the street outside that one would be of a bad outcome should one foolishly take fist combat to one of those.


She gently closes her eyes allowing the air, heat, perspiration and other elements within the tavern touch upon her mind. As she opens her eyes, they are a pure white color as she looks upon where the main fist conflict transpires. Being of pure concentration, she corrupts the air within that close confine, those within that close confined space would take notice of an immediate 15 degree (8.33 degree Celsius) drop in the temperature, she would then release the concentration quickly bringing the temperature back to the original. This would not cause harm to any of those in fist combat, merely bringing a sudden chill to their persons, her desire was that such would release the grip the ale and anger within so they might cease such senseless hostilities before such time their acts bring displeasure to others eyes. She is of full realization that the others she has concern over might take a more painful resolve to ceasing this violence.


Her eyes slowly fade back to a soft chocolate brown casting a gaze in her friends direction. Though they may both be outcasts from the soil from which they were created, he may not have clear skin as the cute man did, his soul she was certain was far more pure than the cute man. Still a little weak from such concentration, she could not allow the poor man, bandit or not, simply lay against the floor of this place. She would stand from her table removing a delicate cloth usually reserved for dabbing perspiration from her own forehead during journeys as well as carrying her water goblet, she makes way toward where the first deceased man lay, those with any sense would not step within her path. She would crouch next to the man pouring water upon her cloth and begin cleaning the soil from his face softly whispering

“Nature hast you within her loving grasp, please look upon all from the air and watch over those within need”


Even upon times she finds the need to remove a life, would the environment permit, she sends the bodies spirit to be one with nature with similar words. Still with a pain in her chest, rests her hand on the deceased forehead whispering

“Sleep now… awaken within all that surrounds us.”


She would stand, a moist trickle of water softly rolling down from the corner of her eye now giving focus upon those within the tavern.

Storm
11-08-2015, 06:07 PM
With her focus now upon her dear friend and the short red haired woman now sharing a table with him. She wipes her eyes for she does not desire her sadness displayed upon Slinkers eyes after the horrid display by the cute man for which Slinker and the red haired woman must have already witnessed. She takes a moment to adjust her clothing and runs a hand along her pony tail so as to be presentable before stepping silently to where Slinker and Shanni sit.

As she stands before the two, she fights to display a pleasant facial expression despite her inward pain touching her hand against her own chest (a display she has been taught to show her weapon hand is unarmed), her polite tone soft and formal

"My dear friend Slinker..." looks now toward Shanni "...and M'Lady, I do hope that such display brought within tis humble abode has nay brought distress upon thyselves. If such shant displease those before thee, might a humble woman take seat at thy table?"

As far as the Slinker was concerned, the beautiful elf was more than welcome to sit alongside them. The instinct - more properly, perhaps, the way a Dark Elf's inner mind can sift and evaluate rhythms, currents and gestures, "read" life the way a bird reads shifting air patterns, but "instinct" will do for here and now - the instinct, then, that had caused him (with no conscious thought) to intervene when she had been inconvenienced by the drunkards, indeed the same compulsion that had caused him to send the drink to Shanni - liked nothing better than an alliance, however temporary, between the three of them.

There was, however, another factor in his deliberations. He had not missed the alacrity with which the tailed, red-headed warrior had accepted his social overture, nor the look upon the elf's face when she had given him her gift. Both of these could, he knew, had been simply from the cleaving together of those in similar circumstances, the way a traveler in a strange land moves towards another from his own hearthstone, and though the three of them were of differing races, they could all have been said to have been closer together than any of them were to anyone else in the tavern.

For that matter - though he might have been flattering himself, for despite his appearance he rarely lacked for female company - either or both of the two women might have sought out his company for interactions over and above the merely social. He had not missed noticing the way Su-Lin took a careful few moments to primp and straighten her errant attire, nor the significant (he hoped) smile with which Shanni favored him.

But, truly, there was a stream of deeper significance here, one he found hard to ignore, and it was this: That some deep, strong feeling told him that the fates of the three of them, the stars alone knew how or why, were bound together. And for this reason if no other, he desired nothing better than having Shanni remain, and Su-Lin join them.

And if, perchance, one of the two women showed any jealousy at the other's presence - well, he thought with an internal smile, he could deal with that.

"With your permission, ma'am?" he said to Shanni, leaving the final decision to her.

Shanni looked from one person to another. It was becoming less intimate... of sort. Was that woman part of the plan? Looking at the dark elf and back at the beautiful woman, Shanni could not help but feel some kind of a heart ache. She was beautiful. Were they a couple?

After a pause thinking, Shanni decided it was not to be her business, after all this man has only come to deliver information on the missing prince-- Was he not?

Shanni drank from her glass and ended up simply shrugging, "Do as you will", she said simply marking the ale maid to get them another glass.

With all 3 cups half full it was Shanni turn to look at the Slinker again and add, "I assume she is part of the plan too?", she asked slowly, "And if not, my understand is that Gol'tat the goblin sent you so I could learn something new about our target?"

It made sense to Shanni that this was the reason he approached her to begin with. Otherwise why bothered with an impish girl when you have a beautiful company such as Su-Lin.

The red eyed demonic man had witnessed the levels of stupidity from a distance. A violence that made his own actions look futile: why attempt restraint when the world was lost so far up its own ass in stupid violent, shit. It had kept his hand off his blade, remaining in his corner and pausing himself restraining himself to his own affairs. Which, for now, were him and the tail baring woman who looked more vulnerable than her entrance had suggested. Women were vulnerable creatures.

The company she kept were somethings he had not laid eyes on before: a woman of elemental manipulation, and a Drow. While Silva drew in people from across the world, this particular bunch was highly unusual and above the mundane his red eyes easily glossed over.

Finally, It boldly moved through the bar. A tall man with flowing hair and robes past the drunkards still left after the frenzy. They did not exist in his reality, they would not bother him. It came to the table, to the red head and those she was associating with.

"Why is a Fieldling here? Our kind have no purpose being here"*

Having taken seat at the table with Slinker while Shanni spoke to him, thoughts filtered through her mind

What is this speak of a target… it mustn’t be an honorable endeavor as this woman before me seems to be in the employ of said Goblin. What of my dear friend before me, has he been awaiting this other woman to aide her on her quest for this target she seeks…

As these thoughts drift through her mind, her peripheral vision notices the red eyed figure now upon approach though she feels no threat by this figure. She continues listening as the figure now before them addresses the red haired woman. All the while she continues calculating each person she observes trying to surmise to what reason she was drawn upon this town. Could the visitor within her dreams have been the one who employs the red haired woman before her. Her soft chocolate eyes vigilantly take in and process all she sees, including the possible tax collector and his guard… if that hooded figure truly was a tax collector as she assumed.

The Slinker carefully took the time to pour himself a further goblet of wine before replying to Shanni's enquiry. In truth, "The Goblin" was new to him, though not entirely. He had heard certain rumors, things whispered among the groves and thickets, hints dropped amidst the dark, lightless wells at the very center of the thickest woods. He had not been afraid of what he had heard - not quite, anyway - but the thought had crossed his mind that were he other than what he was, he should be afraid indeed.

"The... the person of whom you speak, Ma'am," he said, carefully neutrally, "is not anyone I've met, nor had dealings with." His inner mind cried out to add and nor should you, if you value your life and well being, nor yet your sanity, but his natural caginess forced him to bite this back. "And, in truth, no-one sends me anywhere, nor tells me what to do. But..." and he relaxed slightly, and favored Su Lin with a look that he hoped was both inclusive and suggestive... "I would lief hear of him, and why you thought I might be acting under his agency. As, I speculate, might this fair representative of a far finer race than my own."

Still in thought as Slinker addresses Shanni, her mind processing specifically to what has drawn herself to this land and this particular place. Certain is she that what draws her to this soil is not corrupt which most certainly dismisses this Goblin the red haired woman speaks of. A subtle smile upon her lips as her dear friend speaks of not being of this Goblins acquaintance.

Hands upon the table folded properly, her eyes show gentleness to them some might misconstrued in these conversations as meekness within the person behind the hands, her tone soft and polite

“Miss, I too must offer admission that for which employs you, I do not have familiarity with. I do desire it be known man nor beast employs myself, I follow words spoken to me of land, air and the purity of the stars within the eve sky. I do know reason belongs for why I have been drawn upon this given soil, though hast been revealed to this woman before you yet.”

She glances toward ‘It’ offering a gentle nod of her head acknowledging his presence while keeping her hands folded upon the table top, thoughts praying that the woman with red hair does not take offense toward her words… or mistake her for one whom is defenseless.

Shanni grabbed the glass and drank, her other hand shaking under the table and over her knees. She has made a mistake... and probably said too much... Were they toying with her!? That man and woman... Were they making fun of her?!

She looked at the dark elf and back at the pretty woman, feeling anger, upset, jealousy... but her emotions only increased as the other being approached them.

"Fiendling", She whispered slowly to 'IT': "I go where I please", she bitten her lips, "Fancy my tail are you? If you have something to say, say it!", her voice was becoming higher, and her body started to grow warmer. Trying to remain calm as to not further blow her cover, she slowly reached her hands to the weapons under the table. If things go wrong, she would have be ready.

It reminisced in her spirit, she lacked discipline in her violence. Staring at her fresh face, he inwardly challenged how much grimness she had come to encounter in this life. The others at the table did not cling to It's attention yet, his blade hand itched to test this woman of his kind but the blade would always remain delicate against her female flesh. Perhaps that is the way he ought to behave, but It did not have the inclination, nor did she have the inclination to act decent.

She acted like a growing male adolescent of his tribes: defensive and ever searching for opportunities to display strength. This was irksome to It: a woman behaving as a male, for the blade made no distinction.

It moved slightly, his robes dancing with him, and silver strands fell down his face, along his nose as his eyes finally scanned all three at the table.

"Do you support this demon-child girl?" he asked in his unraveled, saddened voice to the Drow and the more collected, mature woman, among the females.

It is said a tailor can spot a misaligned clothing seam at a hundred paces in a darkened room. That a good armorer will pick the balance of a sword to the minutest degree merely by balancing it for a second upon his fingertip. That a horse dealer can pick the virtues and faults of a beast merely by glancing, for a second, into its eyes.

Each trade, each vocation, each way of living... each game... develops, in its players an instinct, a way of reading, a way of seeing, that leaves then incapable of failing to see what others, outside that narrow circle, would peer right by.

The Slinker's game was corruption. He could see it where few others could. The merest pinprick of brown in a perfect leaf, a single grain of rust in an otherwise shining sword, the merest of imperfections in the grain of a wood. He could look at a tree, a building, an animal, and tell exactly how far the inevitability of corruption had taken it in its slimy tentacles.

And, right now, there was no way he could fail to see the corruption before him. He could smell, it, hear it, feel it... by the darkest gods, he could taste it.

Taste... IT.

And that it had links with the red-headed warrior. A beauty that a thing as corrupt as this evil force would delight in destroying. The Slinker himself was an agent of corruption, but his own was of a kind foreordained by the very nature of reality, a necessary thing, part of the fabric of time and space and the currents of life. This thing...

He blinked, twice. Murmured certain words under his breath.

Outwardly, nothing had changed, so that neither Shanni nor Su Lin could have picked any difference. yet, certain currents rearranged themselves in the space around the table, certain subtle winds shifted and danced.

And if the thing threatened a single inch of the beautiful girl's tail, the Slinker knew it would immediately fester, collapse into its own corruption, vanish from the face of reality. Or, at least the spell book had said as much.

"Support that you find yourself another table? Yes, I am sure she is!", Shanni couldn't even begin to understand what the issue was, but her hands were shaking, along with her warm body. She grinned slowly, trying to keep her cool, but she was close to snap.

As Shanni spoke, Su-Lin maintained a calm demeanor and expression upon her face though she could sense the woman before them was seemingly becoming agitated, any feeling Su-Lin had drifting through her mind of differences within the aura surrounding those at the table were dismissed as the red hair woman's displeasure toward what had been said. As the tall male moves effortlessly closer to where she sits, her own hands remain upon the table, her soft chocolate eyes follow the male as he speaks to herself and her dear friend Slinker.

Others of good mind would have a tremble in their voice or have fear displayed upon their faces as one so obviously powerful as ‘It’ was in their presence, yet these were not present as she softly spoke ever so politely

“Sire, I dear not be as so bold to speak for my dear friend…” offering a nod in Slinker’s direction not breaking eye contact with the tall male before the three “or the young woman of red hair, neither support…. nor hinder… the youthful woman tis our intent. I speak of only truthful words sire; tis not of clear mindfulness what hast whispered within my soul drawing myself to the soil for which I now find myself. I am known as Su-Lin and this humble woman would desire to offer thee a placement upon this table I share with my dear friend and the youthful woman.”

She continues to keep a soft gentle gaze upon ‘It’ ensuring her tone remains soft and soothing. She is well aware that ‘It’ must possess extraordinary strength and pose great danger to those he would set desire to harm yet through her years, she does not fear the most powerful (powerful humans are the exception), she saves her fear for whom display their skills in hopes in gaining name for their selves.

Repent!
11-12-2015, 11:08 PM
A lone stage coach rollled into town (http://i.imgur.com/prTRdfD.jpg), two horses pulling it along with two people in the seat. The one holding the reins looked basic enough (http://i.imgur.com/DEw82lw.jpg) by his passenger's standards, while the other looked asleep as a scarf was draped over his eyes, sitting in a very relaxed, manner.

The passenger slowly stirred after hitting a couple of bumps in the path and the coach came to a halt. "Meis, we're here." The freshly woken frog stretched ad wrapped his scarf back around his neck. Meis slowly rubbed his face with his hands as he took in his surroundings. "Leeva, where the hell is here? It looks like we just moved in a circle!" Leeva grunted as he pulled out a map, and showed it to Meis. " Where you told me to go, which when I asked you, you replied with, 'Don't know, don't care. Need to leave before we get lynched.' ".

"How was I supposed to know the necklace was fake? We still got out alive though and that's what matters, right?"

"Meis, one would think living with a trade caravan would have taught you these things." Leeva sighed and pointed to a marked spot on the map. "Anyways we started here at the Verendi Commune..." Leeva then dragged his warty finger down to another freshly marked area on the map "...and now we are here in Silva. We did about 8 hours of travel. You slept through the halfway point, so I had ample time to stop and give the horses food and rest."

"Ah crap." Meis stomach churned as his eyes met the sign for the tavern. "The Basilisk?! HAHAHAHA! Oh man that's rich, wonder what kind of 'stone cold venom' they sell, eh?"

"Meis, your jokes are as pointless and bland as ever, but at least that means your still in good spirits given we haven't been able to make any real money yet."

"Eh, the only real upkeep we need is for the horses and the cart and we always make that plus some since really only one of us needs to eat...I swear the side effects of making the four of you were a more of a gift than a curse. I'm still trying to figure out why the old man had a stick so far up his ass about everything."

"You're still going about that, Meis? It's been ten years, move on."

They hitched up the cart outside of the bar and Meis looked towards Leeva. "Lockup the cart, please. I'll get us a table." Meis called out as he walked in and saw the most bizarre scene. Dead bodies, a person praying over them, and everybody else acting like this was a normal thing. His eyes squinted in confusion and sighed quite heavily as he walked back outside.

"Hold up Leeva, we got a clean up on our hands, seriously I don't understand why people kill each other in public areas...so unclean." He grabbed for one of his gourds that had a dark brown circle etched on it, popped the cork and dropped it on the ground. Power swirled around Meis and pulled away to his left as a hulking frame began to form in front of him. "Stoma! We got some heavy work that needs doing." Stoma ( http://i.imgur.com/1P2PAyz.jpg) stretched and yawned once the process was complete.

"Where at Meis?"

"Dead bandits inside. Lose the bodies, pass Leeva the gear for us to sell. Money's been slow lately."

"Got it." Stoma stomped inside and grabbed the bodies, the headed back out and through the treeline. Meis then huffed and shook his head. "Now let's try this again shall we?" The young frog then strolled into the bar once again and sat up at the bar, chatting up with the bar keep. A few minutes later, Leeva and Stoma walked in and they moved to an empty table. "Okay, here's the plan, we sleep here tonight, then we set up shop for about two days, then we move on.

Liono
11-18-2015, 12:44 AM
Munii was heading back towards the Basilisk, still wondering about the little homeless boy, and Geriah thinking about the spirit girl he saw. She stepped in front of the door when an outcry rang out from the marketplace. Munii took off running. When she got there, a young woman had her face wet with tears and several townsfolk surrounding her.

"Ma'am, what's wrong?" Munii asked her when her sobbing had quieted down to a sniffle.

"My child is gone!" the woman cried, "Kidnapped by this... Thing!"

"What thing?" Munii questioned.

"This shadow... While I had my back turned I heard my boy scream. I turned around and... and..." She burst into tears once more.

"Please calm (http://ci.memecdn.com/793/8656793.jpg) down... Tell us the whole thing..." Munii said in an attempt for her to be a little happier.

"There was this giant shadow with my boy in its arms, and it went around the corner. I ran and ran, but I couldn't find them anywhere. I stopped here... Oh, someone please find him!" she pleaded.

"Don't worry, I'll get him back," Munii reassured her.

"And the worst part... He wasn't even screaming or trying to get free. I saw it in his eyes, he looked like he didn't care. Like he just accepted his fate..."

Kris
11-21-2015, 02:01 PM
From his place at the bushes the young prince heard a voice calling his name.

The young boy rose from his spot, following... and following... right into the never ending forest.

To be continued...