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| Chronicles of Athylon; Act I: The Rose of Rotharia | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 13 2013, 11:59 PM (3,388 Views) | |
| Ser Falcon of the Seventh Stream | Dec 1 2013, 02:09 PM Post #41 |
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Stagehand
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Zei's cry for help had not fallen upon the ears of the deaf. Instead of some random person coming to help her, she was surprised by the man who approached. The cleanliness of the robes and the way his rotund belly distorted the shape, yeah it couldn't have been any other. For that instant, however brief it may have been, a smile crossed her lips. As the man knelt beside the trampled man, he'd look to the one called for help. Brother Martin soon had a mixed look of surprise, and fear. The implications of her being here were frightening indeed, but before he could even ask her purpose, she had placed a finger against his lips. "I know you have questions, Brother, but I have very little time so I will be brief. I'm not here for the reason that you think I am, I'm just here to observe and report. So far, that is all that I have done. My findings have been inconclusive, but one thing is for certain. Innocent people have been attacked and killed this evening, and that is something that we cannot allow to happen. So please, I ask that you tell me where I can find the Ensemble. I intend to help them right this wrong." After a moment of simply staring at her, he nods. A shaky hand lifts and points further down the road. "Th-the docks. A crimson ship." She nods, and makes to stand, but he grasps her firmly by the wrist. "Sister Lucia is..." She shook her head slightly. "I already know, and we'll hold a vigil for our Sister later, I promise. For now, take solace in the fact that she's embraced by the Lady of Light." She places her free hand against her chest, bowing her head. In turn, all he can do is release his grasp on her wrist. His attention now turning to the man sitting against the wall. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ There was not a lot of time to get there, but there was more than certainly a whole lot of ground to cover. A quick scan of the area revealed a way across the square that wasn't being mobbed. She ducked low as she made her way against the crowds briefly, then through the rows of various seats that had been set up. A few grunts and groans came from both ally and enemy alike, but she had no time to stop and tend to them, or send them off for judgement. She leaped unto a chair, and sailed over another row as she reached a nearby alley. Her speed quick quick thanks to powerful pumps of her legs combined with a long stride. Though as she turned a corner, she came to an abrupt halt. She slammed hard against a merchants cart, knocking it over. "My cabbages!" He cries out, looking to her with his jaw hanging. It seemed that he had escaped from the conflict, but certainly not this run of bad luck. "Sorry!" She raises a hand apologetically, but quickly steps unto the cart and leaps once again. She crushes a cabbage beneath her boot as she takes off once again. He raises a clenched fist in anger, calling obscenities to her as she rounds about the corner. Her cloak whipping about some before she vanishes from his view. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A few more, lighter skirmishes were around the dock area, but mostly contained by the guards. Their heavy armor and turtle-like tactics proving far too much for the stray bandits and pirates, who had made a mistake trying to fight them toe-to-toe while only wearing simple cloths and leathers. Then, it was there. Off in the distance, the crimson ship. She grit her teeth as she poured even more into the act of getting there in time. Her hair once presentable and even fashionable, now matted against her head. "Ahoy!" She calls out, somewhat far, but hoping by the grace of the Lord of the Winds that her voice was heard. "Twin Mask, ahoy!" She had cupped her gloved hands around her mouth as she called out, gaze alternating between the ship and the path ahead. Just a little bit longer, just a bit more time! |
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| Karia Morsenia | Dec 2 2013, 08:19 PM Post #42 |
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Dragoness of Spellsongs
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Karia's eyes were filled with pride for her fellow comrades that stepped forward, some of whom she knew and trusted wouldn't let her down. She motioned her hand in Silversteel's direction in a way to try to calm him. "Easy, now, good friend. I appreciate your hand in this." She cast her eyes on the rest of the crew. "It is best for only a few of us to go, as stealth will be better suited on our side. I'm confident in all of you who were brave enough to take up arms, even if summoning courage was difficult," she said, staring directly at Seth. "For all of those who threw their blades and what-have-you in, I will be taking you along with me when we reach our point of interest. As for the rest of you, while I may agree with our Silversteel's words, I won't keep absolute forgiveness from you, but I will not forget, despite the fact of fewer in number being better. It's the idea that those of you who didn't stand up for one you know so well, and one among us who is so young, that will have you all marked in my memory." She moved forward and claimed her dagger, inclining for everyone to do the same. "Everything is packed and we'll be leaving as soon as possible. The Seareavers have their hideout within the Ilskara Isles, and that'll be our destination," she explained. She walked over to Felicia and clapped her hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Take us on out, Captain. We'll be heading northwest." "Ilskara Isles? Isn't that---" Karia silenced Thaeran with a sharp look. "Get to your positions, ladies and gents. We've got some work to do to get there." Everyone began to scatter along the deck to their posts, preparing the ship to leave the dock. Thaeran kept his silence and stalked off. Karia glanced after him with a heavy look in her eyes. She then wandered over to the curious Shepherd that so willingly stepped away from the Order. Indeed, he did spark her curiosity. She crossed her arms over her chest as she approached him. "So, Samus. You have noble intentions to come with us to offer your help." Before he could respond, Karia grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and held him in place firmly, her eyes glinting with steel and her voice low. "However, I have yet to see you can be completely trusted. While I appreciate and admire your aid, it takes quite a bit to gain my trust, and my trust matters highly here. I will tell you that if you so happen to betray any of us or harm any one of these people I hold dear, if you as take a single step out of line while in the heat of combat or in an important moment, I'll---" "Milady, Karia! There's a woman running along the docks yelling at our ship!" Silversteel shouted. Karia released Samus and strode over to the side, following to where Silversteel was pointing. There was in fact a woman with a bow slung across her back racing along the dock. Thaeran joined Karia's side. "Think she wants to board the Rose?" "Good luck to her on that, we're already pulling water," Tuomas said. Narrowing her eyes, Karia turned and waved at Fraye standing by the excess ropes laying on the deck. "Toss me a secure rope!" Fraye nodded with a slight frown and tied off a rope to a railing, throwing the other end to Karia's open hands. She whistled to the running woman. "Catch ahold!" Karia flung the rope to the woman, who luckily caught it on the first try in a slight stumble. Thaeran and Tuomas helped hold the line behind Karia as the woman leapt off the end of the dock and swung into the ship, hitting against the planked side hard, yet didn't lose her grip. The three began to hoist her up onto the deck, giving her a hand to steady herself just as the ship pulled away from the port. Karia eyed the woman with a hard look. "Who are you and why are you seeking us out, willing to even jump off the dock and slam into the side of our ship to board it?" "Ah, I'm just a traveler. Yet the way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. You see, I was intent on enjoying the show this evening, but those ruffians managed to ruin it. From the size of the force you've gathered, I take it the 'special guest' attending this evening is going to be brought home. I've a proposition if you have a moment. I'd like to lend a hand." She taps her scar. "I've been practicing with a bow for some time, and I can assure you that given the proper vantage, I can nail any target. Seeing as how the difference in clothing between you and them is rather stark, I won't have any trouble pegging them," the woman said. Rillian stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Karia, I saw her shooting Seareavers from an Inn window in the square. I think she means well." Karia took a long moment to take in the ranger, all of them waiting for her to voice her thoughts. "What's your name?" "Zei." "Welcome aboard the Crimson Rose, Zei. We're headed into Seareaver territory, so we'll need your marksmanship. Like I told our good Shepherd over there, if you make a move against us, you'll have me to deal with as the consequences." She raised her voice for the rest of the deck crew to hear. "As you all know, Ilskara is going to be severely dangerous. When approaching, I want everyone on their highest alert and all the look out positions manned. I know I'm asking much from all of you to follow me into this zone, but I've never met souls as brave as yourselves. I admire you all for it." With those words Karia turned and made her way towards the bow of the ship, leaving the others to go about their business. She stared out over the lapping waves, her muscles tense and her gaze hardened. "You know there are countless Seareavers at Ilskara Isles." She tilted her head at Thaeran's voice. "Yes, which is why stealth is our most intelligent option. In and out undetected. Draw as little attention as possible. Everyone here knows the risks of where we're going. We can't abandon Alex and the Lady Harmon to the fate of those useless bandits." "For the sake of us all, I hope this plan works." |
| “Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.” | |
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| Agrias | Dec 3 2013, 02:38 PM Post #43 |
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The Foreman
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"To war, to war and ever to war... seem the gods and all of Athylon wish me to dance with that blood-soaked mistress once more." Agrias muttered under his breath as he ran the whetstone over the edge of the bronze broadsword he'd been given when named foreman. It was worn though it held an edge. Its weight and temper less than the steel he'd known. But it would do. Pity the only shields to be had were of tin and timber, but he had proven before the piton mallet could serve well enough as a side-arm when needed.. He gave a small thoughtful frown at how quickly his fellows called those that remained behind 'coward'. But for now he kept silent, made certain the arms and armor of his fellows were well fastened and ready for the tasks of blood and steel ahead. Eyes like darkened slate caught sight of two of the newcomers to the ship, turning more so to his work letting his long ashen-brown hair hang over his face like a veil as he worked. With a small grunt as he finished his personal readying he knew he'd have to call out, "Ho! Baragos! Cyrus! Have you need of sharpening? If not see if the other lads might. Better to walk deck over-prepared than the other, hey?" he asked, trying his best to not look so dour, though his beard seemed to lend more to a thoughtful frown than a smile or even passive facade. Standing from his perch, a towering man, his body built for war and toil as he stalked the deck, proud of how his gate and stride no longer stumbled with the sway and pitch of the ship as he sought out his fellows and those he'd lead in the sorties and raids that the journey promised. Tugging once with a firm hand at the collar of the tarnished breastplate he now wore to ensure it would hold fast when the fighting began, finding his thoughts wandering back to the night that had set him once more on this side of the shoreline, that had earned the captain's trust and the sword at his hip and plate at his breast. Had it not been for that raid in the night, he would have likely stood with those back on shore, just a lumbering roustabout, not a foreman and fighter. The chill of spring still held on the soft night breeze, the waters still and Crimson Rose quieted in her rest. The calm after the storm, as it were. Agrias cursed as he stitched away on the torn mainsail by moonlight to pass time during third watch. Most of the crew and entertainers of the Ensemble slept, some sprawled on the deck where they'd finished their toil, others below in their cots and beds on the soft rocking of the ship as it slumbered in the still waters. Had Agrias not kept his curses silent as he stabbed himself with the needle for a fifth time since the last bell, not wanting to rouse his fellows with his clumsy hand for the needle, he would not have heard the soft thump, and strumming of the small row boats as they held to the Rose's hull. Looking up from his toil he instinctively reached for a hilt at his hip, finding only the handle of his piton mallet he'd used to replace a fair number of splintered posts from torn rigging the night before. His eyes alight as the tumbling strum of ladder and deck tumped gently in the night. The towering man crouched, following the sounds just over a crawl until he saw the colors of those boarding so quietly. Cursing softly under his breath before billowing out a shout to rouse the deck, "To arms! TO ARMS, LADS! By moon and gods we've been boarded, TO ARMS!" Agrias shouted as he struck the man nearest him with the mallet, taking the man's blade as he fought on, calling to rally, calling to hold the below decks. By dawn the deck was crimson, though not but a few drops of it their own. Then after his wish and want for a quiet life, and nameless grave as a simple laborer had left him. But he'd known for some time how little the gods and fates weighed the wishes and wants of men. He gave a sigh as he called out once more, shaking the thoughts of the past and the game of him the other crew had made of guessing at the truth of him, luckily most of those more adamant in discovering it were back on the shore. He still had trouble understanding why they would begin filling a coffer over such a fool thing. "Ho! Baragos! Cyrus! Where are you?" he called once more, returning himself to the task at hand. |
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| Archbass | Dec 4 2013, 03:20 AM Post #44 |
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The Architect
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Agrias wasn't the kind of foreman that Cyrus ever took seriously, but then, he never took anyone seriously. He was always too large to care. The weight of his own limbs was enough that movement anywhere made things shake, and gave him less of a reason. He was fully awake, after all. Baragos was more or less ready as well. If Agrias was asking about readying blades, Baragos was more than ready. Cyrus scoffed. If the bossman was at the show tonight, he would have seen that he didn't need a sword. Cyrus made this much clear. "Oi, boss, what're you prattling on about?" Baragos only shrugged behind him. "Seems we've gotta prepare our arsenal better?" "Sod that." "We don't all use our fists as our weapons?" "Ah. Fucking a, we have to attend to the other peons?" "When you put it that way, the boss is making unreasonable requests." Cyrus shook his head. How could these pissants need his help? He started pacing around the deck. Fraye had helped up this newcomer--Cyrus overheard the name, Zei; the two of them exchanged a few words. They went by in a blur to Cyrus. Maybe it was because he was used to Fraye wanting to compare sword sizes like they were men or something, he didn't care to listen too closely, or at all. He spat. They didn't need help, clearly. Maybe that Samus guy--clothman, the one Karia was throttling earlier. Baragos certainly hopped to it though, making his way to the armory. Cyrus gave not enough fucks to run with him, just to lumber along with him--maybe to give someone like Seth the Peon something to work with other than hammers and nails or whatever he used when helping the Ensemble. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was a little more somber in the Froth than usual. If only because the only music playing was silence and more quiet conversation. And a little bit of sniffling. Cyanne Soothestrings may have gotten her nickname for being able to serenade people with a harp, but away from the strings she didn't have that same cold demeanor. She had a booth to huddle in, her shaking hands clasped around a cold stein. She hadn't even taken a sip, as ale wasn't her thing and the Froth never served hot tea. If it weren't for the almost glowing warmth of the one sitting next to her, her shawl would have only been barely thick enough to suppress the chills sweeping through her. No matter what happened, Evelyn's arm over her shoulders was always a comfortable thing to feel. It always felt like her sunkissed skin was just warmer like that. No wonder she didn't need a shawl in Avareux. By now, the Rose was probably out to sea, and she would be cemented as someone who didn't help at all. Or their triumphant return would forget about those who couldn't fight. "I'd play the harp again tonight if my hands weren't shaking," she said. Just trying to make conversation. Avoid the topic of cowardice. Never mind the shaky voice. She looked away from her stein, and to Evelyn's face. Men and women alike would swoon to a face like Evelyn's, with her angled features and her striking green eyes, elegant red curls to contrast Cyanne's own white , and... Cyanne almost swooned away from her moping, and she had known Evelyn for long enough to avoid doing so on a regular basis. It was the smile especially. "You're not lesser than any of the rest of us for not going," she said. "Besides, you were caught off guard like the rest of us." She stroked Cyanne's shoulder. Her hands were warm too. Reassuring warmth. "You're gonna be fine." "For every definition of 'fine.'" Someone had overheard them. Evelyn whipped her head towards the tavern entrance, but the shadow of a tall, wiry man was closer, as was the smell of his smokey breath. "They're chasing wild geese, I bet." As the man got closer, his smokey breath started to smell more of hard liquor, and his volume rose. "You ladies aren't gonna miss much." Cyanne turned to see this man in fuller detail. His whiskers looked sharper than porcupine fur and his entire face was thin as a hawk's. He had his hand wrapped around a flask which he took a swig from every five minutes. He plopped his way onto the seat in the booth barely three feet away from Cyanne. She leaned further into Evelyn instinctively. The man grinned. "The duchess is gonna have our hides if we interrupt the normal flow of things. Ransom this and that. And Navitia has the balls to tell me that they can work it out with steel. Goddamn pretentious..." he trailed off. "Grath, what are you doing here," Evelyn said. Grath rolled his head lazily over his right shoulder. "Could ask the same of you." Evelyn glanced at Cyanne again. She balled her free hand into a fist. "Some of us think of the Ensemble as a family, unlike yourself." "You're lucky Lady d'Aurea would still sponsor you bunch of hooligans and rats." Cyanne turned away, and buried herself into Evelyn's shoulder. This was the sort of thing she didn't want to see the brunt of--being compared to some common thug. If she had her harp she would have considered snapping a string against this man's cheek, even if it broke the harp. She didn't like Grath at all. The three of them stared at each other for a long minute. The badump in Cyanne's heart started to grow faster the more she watched Grath's lips turn from a scowl to a frown, and then to another smirk. "Fuck it," Grath said. "Everything'll be fine alright. We'll be on the road, and we'll all be a hunky dory like usual. Political fallout aside." He stood up and left the booth, to wander elsewhere in the Froth. Over the counter, Havendesh simply shook his head. Cyanne found herself reaching for her stein and drinking her first swig of the entire night. It was warmer by now, and the bitter taste burned its way down her throat, past the lump that was forming as she tried to speak. "Grath. The nerve he has," Evelyn said. She cupped Cyanne's cheek in her hand. "Are you alright?" Cyanne nodded. She choked back tears, and swallowed another swig. "I should have had cider," she mumbled. "It's warmer than this. I'm afraid for them though." |
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| Samus | Dec 4 2013, 04:46 AM Post #45 |
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The Guardian
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Samus brushed down the front of his robe, the smile on his face masking the concern that he'd done the wrong thing. Karia was interesting, to say the least. A few hours ago, she'd saved him from an attacker, then he'd been stitching her up. Now she was threatening to do... Well he didn't know what, but he doubted it would be pleasant. As much as he'd learnt back at the Godlands, he doubted he'd have much of a chance against someone like Karia if it came to it. Not that Samus would ever raise a hand in combat if he could help it. The last time he'd held a sword was the day he failed the Crusader trials and was placed in with the Shepherds. If Samus did mess up and Karia did come for him to do whatever it was she did to people that let her down... He decided not to think too much about that. Samus found himself watching Karia again. Her concern for the Ensemble was admirable, but Samus couldn't help but feel a little out of the family here. Maybe his place was with Martin. As a Shepherd of the Order, there was no way he'd be able to join the Ensemble, even if they would have him. He could never be part of this family. He'd never be part of a family again, if he had anything to do with it. After losing his mother and sister to the fires of war and the negligence of his father, he'd never put anyone in that situation again. Samus sighed, and decided not to think too much about that. Samus walked through the gathered ensemble members and picked up his staff, smiling at some of the ensemble members, aware that many of them judged him as an outsider, regardless of his help at the performance. He stepped away from the main group to stand at the prow of the ship, watching the waves crash against the ship as it glided through the seas. Wherever it was they were heading, it would be a wet one. Sighing, Samus leant on the wooden staff. He'd never spent much time at sea, but it seemed a nice life. He wondered for a moment if he could still remember how to swim. He decided not to think too much about that. |
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| Agrias | Dec 4 2013, 09:39 AM Post #46 |
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The Foreman
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"Good lads... and Cyrus, try scaring or riling the lads while you're about it. I'll need to know who would be best to fight out of melee. Far better to learn that when not in the thick of it. Flowery words won't kill Seareavers, and I plan to dig as few graves for our own as possible." he called after the pair before setting to the crew, ordering them to stagger their shifts to be made combat ready. Only giving pause as he neared the prow. Giving a small thoughtful frown as he looked briefly towards the Shepherd before looking down to the nearby crewmen, continuing about his business though lowering his voice a bit more. Some might consider him a taskmaster, running the crew like something closer to a military than a simple band of freebooters and entertainers. But none could say he gave orders he did not toil over himself. As he often joined in the hauling of rope if short-manned, or hammering, the three fights he'd joined them in had shown he was not the sort to send other men to blade's edge while staying safely behind. Moving about the deck, helping fasten and check the armor, or showing a better way to grip a blade for a more sure strike, he knew his craft, though many were beginning to question what precisely his craft was. He was simply relieved that the crew had for the moment forgotten the nonsense of the game they'd made of it. With a watchful eye towards the prow he strode towards the next crewman on deck, soon he'd move below decks, to ensure no dangers or follies awaited the coming strife from their own stocks and wares, one loose jar of oil or a poorly set lamp and leaking keg of powder... He dispelled the thought for now, keeping himself at the task he was about for now. |
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| Karia Morsenia | Dec 4 2013, 06:02 PM Post #47 |
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Dragoness of Spellsongs
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The rocking from the ship didn't offer much in lulling her into sleep. Karia had gone to sit down in a corner to sharpen her metal spear and grew restless after a few strokes. She set her weapon aside to close her eyes, hoping to catch some rest after the fight in the square. After a while her mind began to drift into the realm of sleep, where she was thrown into dreams filled with horrors of her past. Blood spilling across stone... The cries of innocent women... Wicked laughter from her brothers... The haunting whistling melody... Images of her father's scowl... ...and her own screams of pain. Karia bolted upright with a soft intake of breath, her body slick with sweat and shivering. She shut her eyes tight and opened them again, wincing from her nails digging into her palms. It was how she oriented herself after every nightmare. "Having bad dreams, huh?" She started at the voice in front of her, turning out to be Samus standing there and leaning on his staff. Picking up her spear, she fiddled with the handle and sighed. "Yeah, I have them often." A small smile passed over Samus's lips, his hands roaming around in his robes. "I figured as much." He lifted a tiny pouch in his hand and offered it to her. "Here, use a pinch of this every night before sleeping." "What is it?" "Something to help with the nightmares." She accepted the pouch with a curious look and stood up, sliding her spear into its back holster. "Well, I can show you where you'll be sleeping tonight. Come." He followed her below deck into her own quarters where she waved her hand at a cot across the room from her bed. "You and our other two guests will be staying in Ensemble members' rooms. I requested you. You can put your things away over there for now." Samus nodded his thanks and walked over to the cot. He cleared his throat, setting his few belongings under the simple bed. "You were a bit gruff with your people earlier." "Yes, I may have been a bit...rough, to the ones that stayed behind. Everyone is used to it, though. I do understand why they remained, as this is no easy task. Where we're going even fills me with dread. Upon returning, I will tell them all I understood their choices. It's just... I was raised heavily in believing in loyalty to family and possessing strength in all ways. The Morsenia bloodline firmly instilled it in me, and sometimes it's hard to look beyond those teachings." "You don't speak of them as your own family. Why?" Karia paled for a fleeting second at the mention of her family. She remained quiet for a long moment, lost in a memory from a mere couple of years ago. "Karia, why are you so reserved lately? Ruezann said you had to take a leave of absence for a time, and when you return you act like a subdued woman." She looked hard at Thaeran. "I am not subdued." "He mentioned it had to do with...your family. Is this true?" Thaeran asked with a hint of concern. His question was met with silence. "Ruezann and Navitia are the only ones that know and you remain silent to the rest of us, your friends. Karia, why do you never mention your past and family? You either stay silent or redirect the topic with something else. What had they done to you?" Karia blinked and kept a steady gaze on the Shepherd. "When we run away from our pasts, they can shadow our footsteps. Sometimes when we go back and face them after a time, those choices can haunt us even more so." "So you ran away from your family?" "I did, and I went back to face them one day. It didn't make me feel any better." They both remained silent for a while, Karia had wandered over to her desk and busied herself with a book. Samus finished putting his things away and turned to see her staring at him with an expression he couldn't read. "What?" "Nothing." "You don't feel uncomfortable with me here?" Samus asked. "You're not the first male to have stayed in my bedroom." Raising an eyebrow, Samus chuckled and looked away. "Ahh." "When I was seventeen, about ten years ago, I had met a boy and I kept him secret in my room at night. My family eventually found out about him." "That sounds rather...odd to say. What happened to him?" Karia snapped the book she had been pretending to read shut. "I think I'm rested enough. Thank you, for the...nightmare medicine, Samus. Make yourself at home here." She swiftly exited the room and made her way back up to the above deck, wearing a mask of a frown as she did. |
| “Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.” | |
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| VexSting | Dec 4 2013, 10:05 PM Post #48 |
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Stagehand
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Tansa opened her door and let out a yawn. She ran her hair through her obsidian colored hair and sighed. She sniffled and made her way up deck. The echoes of her bare feet slapping on the wooden floor ripped throughout the lower deck. She sneezed as she moonlight flooded over her wet sand colored skin. She stretched her arms above her head and felt a few joints pop. Tansa inhaled the sea air as it rushed by her. She ruffled her short hair as she made her way to the port side rail. She leaved over and looked up to the sky, and muttered something in her native language. There were many starts out. She let out a sigh of relief. She went to find a place to see the north star the best and sat. She sat cross-legged and cupped her hands and held them out. She closed her eyes and started muttering under her breath. |
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| Deleted User | Dec 4 2013, 11:19 PM Post #49 |
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Deleted User
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Silversteel leaned against the railing, staring out over the rolling waves as the ship charged head on in to impending danger. How many of them had decided to come on this mission? How many would end up returning? How many more had done the sensible thing and been berated for it? He let out a heavy sigh, his breath rattling inside his mask, metallic and cold. He hoped they were not too late, he hoped that those filthy pirates had not done the unthinkable. Silversteel hoped this for everyone's sake. "Hang on, kid." he muttered, pushing himself off of the railing, "We're coming for ya... Just hang on." He strolled along the deck, the red longcoat he had donned billowing behind him, the patches that had been used for emergency first aid fluttering weakly. He had kept the coat, he supposed, as a message, perhaps? Maybe a warning? Maybe he just wished to add insult to injury... Either way, the show would, in a sense, go on... It would be the last act many of the Reavers would see. Silversteel eventually made his way to his quarters, where the wide brimmed, feathered hat his character was to wear sat lazilly upon a chair. He held the velvety thing in his hands, how ornate and gaudy it was... Silversteel allowed himself a chuckle, slipping it on. "Ladies and Gentlemen... Act Six, the closing of the show, wherein a daring rescue is staged, and some people get very seriously hurt by the wrong type of enemies to make... Sixth anniversary... Six acts... Likely Six gods in the audience laughing at this comedy of errors... What a funny fate we have ourselves." He let out a rueful chuckle, not quite roused by his quip. "Hang on kid... We're coming for ya... Just..." He adjusted the hat, peering in to his mirror with a hidden scowl, "Hang on..." |
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| Archbass | Dec 5 2013, 02:05 AM Post #50 |
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The Architect
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There was an opportunity to scare that one Sakhvari in the Ensemble, that Tansa Firestar. It was in the midst of her prayers probably -- something about roast ducks or something if he could tell anything about her language. He had in his hand a sheathed sword, something from the armory to help arm some of the others. The problem about arming people in the Ensemble though was that Baragos was much more adept at doing just that--between those damn kids like Tuomas and Sarah, or the newcomers who were already armed to the teeth, or that lawman talking to Thaeran, there was no such thing as an Ensemble member who wasn't armed. Then there was Tansa. She was the only one Cyrus didn't know was armed with anything. He took a couple steps closer. He wasn't very good at being sneaky. He just didn't give a fuck. He caught the gibberish of her prayer a little bit more closely. It sounded like one word flowed into the other with little space for breath, or if there was breath it was taken shortly. Maybe she should have had a part, Cyrus thought, until he remembered that her fiddling--or violining or whatever it was--was her gift. His next step made a plank creak. She fell silent and tilted her head towards the creaking. It took barely a second before she turned forward again and slipped her hand somewhere Cyrus couldn't see. Her language sounded like babbling all of a sudden. He decided to walk around to maybe her side--see what she was holding in her hand. He barely caught a glint of silver before it was pointed at him. The dagger. She stopped her prayer and with a whirling kick upwards landed onto her feet. Assume the fighting stance -- more refined than Fraye's definitely, and less goofy-looking, befitting her lankiness. For a second he wondered how he got spotted. She had a look in her eyes that told him that she was ready to kill him, with her narrowed eyes. Oh right, that's what peripheral vision does. "Oi, you can put the dagger down," Cyrus said. "It's just me. I don't give a fuck about stab wounds, but we're about to crack some skulls. Know that, right?" Tansa rolled her shoulders back, and lowered her dagger. She huffed. "By Avaleria's--no, wait, was it Alerion? Yes, Alerion's-- tits, do you not know how to... you know, be polite?" Cyrus wondered if Seth the Peon ever swooned over Tansa's accent. Peons like him love accents. He shrugged. "Alerion's got a bigger dick than tits, but whatever, we're about to crack skulls. You know that, right?" She sneezed. She blinked, giving a stare he couldn't quite interpret, before shaking her head. "You know," Cyrus continued. "Priscilla Harmon got kidnapped? Risking our lives for money? Seareavers? Alex too?" Tansa rolled her eyes. "Why do we need to save yappy puppy?" she said, apparently completely ignoring the fact that the duchess's daughter was kidnapped. "Duchess's kid too." Tansa waved her hand dismissively. "Oh yeah, yeah, I help save her too, but, Alex needs to be more careful." "Peon's with us on this." "Pee-on?" Cyrus hung his head. "Seth. Alex's older brother. About ye high, has a spine made of balsa-wood?" "Who did Seth pee on and why?! Is he some animal?! He's not a wolf last time I saw him!" Cyrus was about to give a fuck, when he remembered that Seth would probably piss himself the moment he saw a Seareaver, and chuckled. Dodged the arrow there. "Well, no, no, and he isn't. He's still a bitch though--" "So he's a she-wolf!" "Fuck. No." Cyrus just thrust the sheathed sword towards her. "Here. Take this sword. You'll need to be armed." "Oh, I am armed. Wait..." Silence. Then, Tansa's face lit up with a smile not at all punctuated by another sniffle. She wiggled her lithe arms around. "I'm armed, hm? Hm? I'm proud of my common getting all sorts of better!" She struck a pose, before laying her arms back at her sides. "No, though, I'm all ready." Cyrus shook his head. "Glad you are." "Oi!" It was Fraye yelling across the deck. "Oi! Oi! Cyrus! You giving cuddles a sword? Didn't you get the memo that she whips people?" Tansa wrinkled her face again. Cyrus looked to Fraye, who had the least subtle wink on her face, even from across the deck. He could imagine her saying further things. She whips people gooood. "Phah, why is loudmouth number two talking too?" "Loudmouth number two?!" Fraye said. "Hey! Hey! HEY!" Fraye marched up to the two of them. "Look, cuddles, I don't walk around busting heads fer nothin'. Just to be second banana to Pissant!" "Ants...piss? What are these moron words spilling off your mouthflapper?" Cyrus stood between the two of them. Better stop them from bickering before they did anything more than just yelling. Tansa sighed. "Fine, fine. I go get my whip." Fraye started laughing while Tansa left to her quarters. "Fraye, one, Cuddles, zero. Yessss." "She's not keeping score either." "Shut up, Cyrus." |
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3:18 PM Jul 10
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3:18 PM Jul 10