ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Apr 6, 2014 16:10:28 GMT -5
Shadows are a curious thing. Light is wondrous - it chases away the darkness, it allows you to see and thus to live. But in doing so, it creates darkness a fresh. They cling to the edges of the worlds, hiding in cracks and out of Light's sight. No matter how bright the Light shines, the shadow just gets darker. Have you ever seen a shadow move? In the corner of your eye, while the light remains steady - it flickered, didn't it? Of course you pay it no mind, for shadows are a natural thing. You are right, shadows are a natural thing, they have always been there. But would you look at them differently, if I told you that not all of them are your own? Nor are they the shadows of objects blocking the Light. No, they are the shadows of things you fail to see - they are evil manifest upon this world, and there are those who know this. And those who will use it for their own nefarious needs.
- Excerpt from 'Where the Light is Darkest', a Human treatise on the nature of darkness and its interaction with the light, comparing it with the theoretical interactions of evil and good. The auther died weeks after its release to the public, since then the number of copies of this book have shrunk. Those who dare to reprint it have befallen mysterious deaths - copies have been found burnt or marred beyond reading. Many say it is just a cursed coincidence, but of course many havn't read the book - realised that in truth it ousts a secret world hidden beneath their very noses.
Such a copy had found its way into the hands of a Draenei, who sat now at a small camp deep in the dark forest of Kessig. Her ears were perked for the sounds of rustling or any other indication of an approaching being, but she paid little attention to it for wards had been placed around her camping area. If anything was to enter, she would know about it. The Draenei slowly flicked through the pages, this one was written in a Fontéan dialect she had some trouble reading. Although she knew how to read and write the language that dominated Human society in the East and the Council of Man throughout the continent, this dialect was unusual, for it was far older.
The premise of the book was disturbing, as a Being of the Light the thought that the Light would in turn create darkness in its wake and in this darkness would evil survive was diabolic. But Namyra knew that it held some level of truth, many times had Evil been hidden beneath their gaze only to strike from the shadows with a force powerful enough to shatter the Draenei civilization. She just hoped that this wasn't the case with Gabriola, as the continent was named, for a rot already infesting a wound was far harder to purge than one attempting to. That was why she was here, to see the extent of this rot - this Evil. She had seen no glimpses of it on her travel through the Hordelands to this place, but here in Kessig it was different. As soon as her eyes lay upon this dense forest from the grasslands of Aesher she could sense the darkness within its depths. It had only gotten worse as her hooves stepped into the woodlands. Her Khajiit guide had refused to continue, bidding her farewell and perhaps most disturbingly good luck.
It had only reached a sickening crescendo a days travel from here. She was deep in the heart of the forest as far as she could tell - but the forest seemed to play with her senses. She did not know just how far she had been, the cycle of day and night were gone too. Even the maps proved no use, an Orcish one was the best she could find but even that lacked in detail sufficient to make landmarks out in this forest. Truthfully, she was lost. But the Light led her now, and in the direction it led her she had found a trap. A snare, set for a small rodent of some kind like what they named Rabbits. It meant that Namyra was close to civilization, the Light had led her towards her target and away from the beasts that roamed the forest. For Namyra had seen them, at a distance. Great monsters, with tusks and horns and spikes. It was as if they were created with nothing but offense in mind, although it had been rooting through the undergrowth for roots or was it carrion? Namyra had left well alone, making efforts to magically mask herself from the beast and any more she would see. She knew that her unassaulted passage through the woods was no short of a miracle, a miracle of the Light.
She lowered her book, looking around the dark misted forest. The trees grew tall and gnarled, the ground was littered in their leaves and needles. Here and there bushes grew, but mostly sharp thorn-bearing vines spread acoss this section of the woodlands. Even the plants seemed as if they wished her harm. Reading the book had given her a new attentiveness, she watched the shadows wearily. She had seen them flicker, before, but had never considered it more than a play of her own eyes. Eyes that were tired, that needed sleep. So, pulling her robe up against her chest - she slept, dozing off as the maybe-moon shone white light upon the forest.
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Hey eyes blurred as her lids opened them to the world. As they came into focus, her body tensed and then froze. A great beast, easily the size of an Elekk, stood within her clearing. A long white tail trailed behind it, almost the same length as its body. The beast was hairy, no - fluffy. It was patterned too, with black spots and stripes along its silver moonlight-like coat. How had her wards not detected the beast? How had she not heard its approach? Most importantly - why had it not noticed her. As her thoughts reached that particular point, it shifted its position. Slowly, almost teasingly, its great white head turned to face it. It looked almost cat like, as the small mammals were known on this world, and if Namyra was not so afraid of its zize she would almost claim it were cute in its uglyness. Its eyes were white, but she knew that did not quite mean it were blind - for the creature seemed to look right at her.
Hey wards should have held, her wards should be making her seem invisible to the creature. Never before had her wards failed her so. But the creature did not move to her, its little black nose merely sniffing the air in her direction. Time passed, too long for Namyra's comfort, while she stared into the creatures great sorrowful white eyes. Eventually, though, it turned back to the floor as it rooted around for... Something. It seems her wards did indeed protect her still, for the creature shown no sign of spotting her as she had it. Namyra came to the decision that she had to leave, for her wards would not protect her if the creature decided to scrape at the floor near her tree and catch her slumped form.
Silently she pulled her backpack towards her. She lifted it from the ground so as not to disturb the leaf litter. All of her belongings were packed up, ready for her to take on her travels. All except her book, which she packed up along with her other belongings. Slowly, she rose from the safety of the ground. The creature paused, but it did not turn, returning to its activity after a couple of seconds. She made to take a step, her hoof gently pressing down upon the leaf litter without making a noise. As she took another step, keeping the beast within her eyesight at all times, it suddenly turned to face her. Its previously peaceful muzzle bared wide - unnaturally so - to reveal needle like teeth in a snarl. Rows upon rows of the dangerous things filled the beasts maw, which it bared at her threateningly. Suddenly and with speed that belied its size, it leapt towards her. The distance it bounded in two great strides before leaving the ground to land front-claws outstretched upon the bark of the tree she had been camping on. A screech pierced the forest and Namyra found herself thrown aside by the great white beast, and something dark and leathery. It writhed on the floor - all teeth and claws for it had four arms, two of which were winged. It screamed its outrage as the white beast battered it with its paws, only to be bitten by the equally gigantic leathery monstrosity in its large side. The white one roared in pain and at that, Namyra got to her feet and ran. The clash of the titanic beasts brought her the cover she required to escape.
She ran, her hooves landing against the ground at great speed. Her direction was unknown to her, but the Light guided her path in ways non-Draenei could not understand. She stumbled upon a path, the shock of her hooves landing upon the ancient stonework almost sent her tumbling over. The path was pathed, although the forest had overtaken it almost completely but the path between the trees was clear. Namyra followed it, in the direction she instinctively knew to take. It was a few hours following this path before she came upon a tall wooden wall. It extended as far as she could see in the forest's haze in both directions and directly cut across the ancient pathway.
She followed the wall, hugging its wooden edge, until she came upon a welcome sight. A torch and, next to it, a gateway. It was only small, clearly not a main gate, but even a side gate would have a guard posted at it. She raised her gauntleted hand and banged upon the structure. No reply. Again she struck the wood and a small sliding window in the wood opened to reveal a shocked and very scared human face. The man, for that much was clear by the beard he sported, was portly and clearly young.
"Ew goes they'r?" he said in a strong accent Namyra could not quite place. In fact so shocked was she by the accent that it took her a while to translate the mans words. She realised her cloaked and hooded form must be quite a shock to the Human, but her true form would no doubt have her refused entry completely. So she kept it hidden, the darkness of her hood hiding all but her piercing blue eyes and the base of her delicate chin.
"I am but a traveler, lost within the woods." she called out to the man.
"Go away!" he shouted in return, his face disapearing behind the wooden slat. She heard the clang of an extra bolt being thrown against the wood.
She didn't quite have time for this, "Please, sir, might I speak directly with your commander so I may gain entry?" She waited, but she recieved no reply. "Sir?"
"Okay ah'll get 'er!" he said, and Namyra heard footsteps on wood echo the man's retreat.
Hopefully he would indeed go and get her, for the darkness of the forest seemed to bare down upon this doorway as if it intended to break through the cracks and reclaim the land beyond.
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Post by Possessedcheddar on Apr 6, 2014 16:25:00 GMT -5
“We stand between the darkness and the light, ensuring that the darkness will not overtake us. As long as the world has need of men such as these, then to live forever in time is the fate we must accept. We are the Blackguard, the men who will live forever.” -Creed of the Blackguard, said as an initiation for all new members and as a reaffirmation of the task set before all members of the Blackguard.
Captain Abram Volnte heard a small scuttle at one of the roughhewn gates into the town of Kessig. The gate was nearest to the inn where his men where, it was also along a path he had chosen not to take his men after having been briefed on what lay within the dense forest.
He had seen to it that his men all had food and rooms for the night as well as stabling for their horses. Volnte had some Fonte’ currency in a pouch inside his armor but he paid for everything with gold, gold has value everywhere. Abram looked out the window of the inn and looked out over the townscape. At night the place took on the same menacing look as the surrounding forest, albeit to a much lesser degree. Guardsmen still roamed the streets and a few people were out and about. He decided to join them, at least to poke his nose in the business of whoever was at the gate.
He smiled to himself at the thought, “I’m like an old woman with nothing better to do than get into other people’s business.”
Volnte grabbed his helm by one of its antlers, no longer afraid of breaking the delicate looking tines affixed to it, and donned the ancient armor. With his face concealed in its cool metal, he stood and shouldered open the door. A faint scent of animal fats used to grease the doors’ hinges could be detected as is swung smoothly and silently wide.
He stepped into the hallway, his boots bunching up the threadbare carpet running the length of the corridor as he walked past the several other rooms on the top floor. The stairs groaned a couple of times under his weight but he had discovered the previous night that it wasn’t due to their weakness but rather to their age. When he had descended to the ground floor he moved through the timeworn double doors and into the poorly lit street, only pools of light from several pole mounted lanterns and the torches of the guards illuminated the night.
Volnte walked for the gate and saw the guard leaving from it. He tilted his head at the man in greeting but was largely ignored. Such was the state of he and his men’s treatment in Kessig so far. Shitty treatment from a shithole town in the woods, Volnte thought bitterly to himself. They only seemed to have let his group stay because they had a reputation as good natured, friendly, and not ones to steal and pillage. That didn’t mean there had not been a great deal of grumbling involved though.
His journey ended at the rough-cut timber gate, lashed together with iron bands and chinked with mortar. He had to stoop down slightly to facilitate his well over six feet of height and peer through the peephole in the door. He grumbled quietly to himself about midgets living in the woods and pulled back the metal slat. On the other side he saw something he did not expect. A woman of a race he did not immediately identify. He stared for a second and then said,
“And I thought leaning down this low to see through here was hurting my neck.” It sounded lame even to him but he was taken off guard and felt that he needed to say something, anything, to get his wits about him once more.
She quickly replied, “Oh I was expecting a woman, will you be the one to grant me access? I very much wish to stay at your local tavern. Or inn. Or is it berth? Whichever you have.”
Her voice was a subtle and husky rasp that still managed to portray her emotional inflections and feminine nature, though there was a hint of impatience in it. Volnte figured that was less directed at him and more so at the situation based on the quick smile she afforded him.
Volnte finally registered what the woman was and beneath his helm his eyebrows rose in a way that threatened to infringe upon the space his hairline resided. He spoke, his firsts words came out stammered. “An inn, berths are only at ports. But you’re a Draenei. I would never expect to see one of your race here.” Her slight frown indicated that should be less concerned with what she was and more concerned with opening the door. “Of course the monsters out there won’t care if you were expected or not, let me get this gate open.”
Volnte took one of the two handles used for pulling the massive timber from its mooring in the gate and threw his weight backwards, pulling the wooden beam with him. This was a job normally reserved for two men but his curiosity over the Draenei woman had seen to it that he did it himself, if only to find out more about her. With the gate now open, she was free to enter.
She quickly stepped inside, her hooves leaving indents in the hard packed dirt. She turned around, her tail swishing past him, causing Volnte to instinctively take a step back so as not to crowd the woman. She closed the double doors to the gates and grabbed the handle on the wooden beam used to lock it. Abram made to help but before he could she had already slid the timber back in place with seemingly no effort. He nodded appreciatively and stood back, taking in just how foreign she was to him. He had to admit though that he did find her quite attractive, in an alien sort of way. He shook his head and smiled in spite of himself. He looked up at her when she spoke, something he was not accustomed to, and listened.
“Would you mind directing me to the local inn? I would very much like a rest from my travels.”
He nodded and extended his hand in a gesture for her to follow him. “Right this way, it’s not much but there are beds and food. For you, I recommend purchasing a room with two beds; so that you may pull them together to make one. I’m not sure they anticipated company of your nature.” He hoped she would understand his lighthearted jest and moved on to lead the way.
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ShockHelix
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Deity of Death
No mercy for the weak. No pity for the dying. No tears for the slain.
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Post by ShockHelix on Apr 9, 2014 9:00:36 GMT -5
Cloaked and armored, a figure in green and gold watched the gate from the second story of the Half-Moon Inn, prying eyes observing the Draenei and Blackguard. Her hood hung limp across her shoulders, cloak rolled up underneath her on the hard wood. Her golden eyes seemed to pierce the darkness of the room, unlit by candle or magelight. The woman's long black hair hid in the darkness as well, draped over one shoulder, hanging down to her chest. As the two continued to speak, the ranger rose from her seat, walking out of the drab room as a sword swung at her side, bow firm over her back. Quickly, she traversed the hall, and descended the steps into the sound of drunken revelry filling the inns foyer. Carefully making her way through the tables, she sat herself next to a similarly garbed ranger.
Talia, as was her name, dropped a gloved hand to the table, making a small thud that turned the man from his drink. The man was much larger then Talia, or near any other man in the inn, though he seemed to do well to keep a low profile. Over his back hung a large battleaxe, almost the size of a normal man, and he slid his drink aside to regard Talia. “Aren't ya supposed to be keepin' watch girl?”
“I am keeping watch, Mance. Where's Theomund?”
“Over there,” Mance replied, sticking a thumb over his shoulder towards the corner of the room. “Still trying to pry info out of these fools, I suppose. Ya might be better off jus' waitin' 'til he's done.” he said, drawing a frown from his companion. With a sigh Talia looked around the room, hopeful that none of the patrons had heard him. Though Mance had no regard for who they angered, Talia was much more careful around the 'natives.' Unfortunately, her captain Theomund did not share her views. She could see him plainly in the corner now that she knew where to look. That was one of the tricks of their armor and why Mance and herself drew so little attention. For a curious onlooker, the armor seemed to divert the eyes, causing unwanted attention to pass right over them. It was useful for keeping prying eyes away, but unfortunately did not seem to work on drunks, a strange flaw in the armors ability that they'd learned quickly upon arriving on the mainland.
Talia met her companions curious gaze, before the man took another drink of the pint again. “So lass, what'd ya see this time? More o' them guard folk from the east?”
She shook her head, standing back up. “Come on then, I'll take my chances,” Talia said, smiling at the frowning Mance who reluctantly left his seat on the bench. Making her way to the corner table with Mance close in tow, the reached another man, even larger then Mance, talking with a rather intimidated looking local. Without even glancing to his side, Theomund waved the two closer, still listening to the man before him. As Talia leaned on the table, the villager ceased her speaking, looking rather frightened by something.
Theomund turned his head, leaning it to the side quizzicly. “Yes Talia, what do you need? This better not be another waste of my time.”
The younger ranger cringed, averting her eyes from her captain to the table. “Forgive me, Captain. You did say to report anything unusual.” Composing herself, Talia lowered her voice, returning her eyes to meet Theomund's. “A Draenei has just entered the main gate, and I believe was met by the leader of the Blackguard force. I can't be sure with the light. . . but they should arrive here soon.”
“An odd coincidence,” Theomund said, looking at the villager across from him. “Thank you Talia. Dismissed.” The two rangers saluted with their arm across their chests, before departing back to their table while the Captain continued to stare down the village woman. Theomund tapped his fingers together on the table, leaning forward to look the villager right in the eyes. “Well, not that our little interruption is over, tell me again. And this time, don't forget anything.”
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Post by Sabess on Apr 9, 2014 10:51:44 GMT -5
Asuna wriggled in what was a rather uncomfortable timber chair, her eyes surveying the beat-up room she found herself in. There wasn't a large amount to see, the room containing drunken peasants and rough wooden furniture for the most part. She flipped a faded gold coin, looking more akin to a sickly yellow. It was an idle task, but it managed to stave off the bottomless boredom Asuna would otherwise encounter.
She eventually decided to rise from the hilariously rickety seat she sat in, moving towards the bartender. She flicked him the sorry excuse for a gold coin, requesting the weakest alcohol they had on stock. Asuna wasn't much of a drinker, though she somehow doubted they'd serve any tamer drinks. The bartender left in an instant, and returned twice as fast. He slid Asuna a stained wooden mug, filled to the brim with what appeared to be some sort of wine.
A hulking man, easily in his 40s, soon took a seat next to Asuna, confidently. "'Ey there, lit'il lady. What's a fine young broad like ya' self doing innna place like this?" Asuna simply responded by sipping her wine and ignoring him. He left soon after, visibly annoyed. Asuna averted her eyes towards a nearby window, realising the glistening sunlight had been consumed by the chilling Kessig moon. Asuna wasn't sure if she really believed the superstitions she'd heard during her uncomfortable stay at Kessig, but she wasn't going to tempt them either. She didn't know the details, but according to the villagers, with darkness came all sorts of horrific monsters and beasts.
Asuna picked at her clothing in complete boredom. Her clothes were a mixture of red and white spliced together, several designs running across them. She sat with her legs touching, rather needed with the red skirt she was wearing. She wore it most of the time, putting her legs together out of habit regardless of what she happened to be wearing. She flicked her rather long hair, keeping it from obscuring her vision. She'd managed to sport a rather strange hair colour, a mixture between orange, brown and chestnut. It appeared prominently orange, however. Perhaps it was some sort of ancestral trait, although she wasn't sure if firebenders actually sported red hair.
Asuna took a final sip of her wine, still ridiculously sober. She preferred it this way, however, losing her wits and falling and being controlled by alcohol could lead to a multitude of problems. She didn't intend to have her first experience in bed with a drunken stranger at 2 AM. She let out a weak yawn, a mixture of boredom and fatigue washing over her. Most of her nights had gone somewhat like this in recent days, relax in the inn, order a drink or too, be flirted with, and then off to bed. Honestly, Asuna didn't have much else to do, leaving the desolate town of Kessig being far too dangerous alone. It was a miracle she made it in the first place. She decided to hang around for at least an hour more, hopeful in her quest to find company in leaving Kessig.
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ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Apr 9, 2014 11:09:33 GMT -5
Namyra was quite taken aback by the scene she was greeted with on the inside of the walls. The town was beautiful, in a sense. It presented an image of what these dark, evil, forests would have looked like before whatever had tainted them had taken hold. But even here, behind the walls of Man, Namyra could smell the scent of darkness. For it truly pervaded the entire forest and the guards were nervous, the townsfolk twitchy. Namyra lowered her hooded head as they passed a pair of female humans chattering by a fountain. She hugged her tail close to her right leg, keeping it as hidden as she could. She was thankful that from behind the hooded travelers cloak hid her lower legs and even her hooves, even from the front it worked to mask much of her alien features. It wouldn't have been the first time she had been chased from a Human village by a mob screaming 'Demon!' or 'Beast!'. Those who did not know who she was feared her appearence.
Luckily for her, the Human male that had opened the postern gate had recognised her for what she was. He didn't seem to find it uncomfortable at all. In fact he almost seemed in awe, his stuttering and the pause enough to show his shock but the way he immediately welcomed her showing his reverance. She was curious how he had managed to get permission from the guard, but the more likely situation was that he came and let her in regardless. Hopefully that would not come and bite her in the tail, later. Oh yes, she reminded herself, they were conversing.
“Right this way, it’s not much but there are beds and food. For you, I recommend purchasing a room with two beds; so that you may pull them together to make one. I’m not sure they anticipated company of your nature.”
She tried to put on her most formal accent, although her use of this particular Human language wasn't often and it was noticeably lacking in certain departments. "Yes, I will see how much one of those rooms costs. Although I am not disused to sleeping on the floor."
She fell in step behind the man as he led her towards the local inn. Idly, she inspected his armour. Black plate and mail that radiated some unusual magic to her senses. He looked like a well armed Mercenary, and it struck her that she knew not what group this man was from. Yet he knew of her people, it was almost embarassing to be lacking in this knowledge. "I'm not sure many would expect my company. It is not often we leave Telar. There is good reason in that, Humans tend to dislike our kind and of the East, they are quickly becoming the most numerous peoples."
As she finished speaking, they arrived at a tall wooden structure. This must have been the inn he spoke of, for it bore the sigil of a crescented moon and the words 'Half-Moon Inn' beneath it. The man creaked open the door to the wooden inn, and over his shoulder Namyra could see the tell-tale signs of human drunken revelrie - men prancing about with stained mugs in their hands like the cock of the town, women sat in small groups or dancing around the drunken men and the occasional loner sat over a mug of ale, mead or wine regretting they had gotten out of bed that day. Draenei reserved this sort of behavior for special occasions, like a birthing or an anniversary or a particularly good sermon.
She paused at the door, her gauntleted hands moving to wrap the cloak further around her chest. She would definately not like to make a scene in this place, so many drunken humans who likely had knives at hand or knowledge of where to get one, she worried for their lives. A hand shot forth from her cloak, coming to rest passively on the man's shoulder before he could proceed further into the establishment. She lowered her voice, and her head, so only the man who had led her here could hear her. Her lips close to his strangely antlered helm spoke softly, then said: "I would ask you a favour, would you point me in the direction of they who I ask for a room? Or best yet, procure one for me and the gold shall be yours. I would like to minimise my contact with those who do not know of what I am." Her voice hinted at her waryness and uncomfort, even through the language barrier.
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Post by Possessedcheddar on Apr 9, 2014 20:27:31 GMT -5
Volnte opened the door to the Half-Moon Inn and thought to himself how amusing it was to have a shadow that was bigger and stronger than him. He pushed the door all the way open and stopped as a hand was laid upon his shoulder. Normally he would have tucked his chin to his chest and dropped low as he spun around, slamming a gauntleted fist into the person’s stomach. He’d been in enough fights to know that, that was how many of them started. He relaxed when he heard the Draenei woman speak.
“I would ask you a favor, would you point me in the direction of they who I ask for a room? Or best yet, procure one for me and the gold shall be yours. I would like to minimize my contact with those who do not know of what I am.”
He turned and looked up at her, his helm obscuring part of his view, and saw that she actually seemed somewhat apprehensive about revealing herself to the other inn patrons. He looked at the rabble here and could see why.
“Yeah, there’s a room on the top floor where my men and I are staying that is unoccupied. And don’t worry about the price, you can keep your money. I must at least maintain the guise of being a gentleman.”
The Draenei seemed a little stunned at his offer of kindness but recovered smoothly. A bright, genuine smile split her lips and she said “Thank you sir, your offer is well received. I am grateful, for my coins have... Grown short... On this long journey of mine.”
Abram smiled, “Aye, a journey like the one your gear says you've seen is a long and costly one indeed. Head on up the stairs to your left when you're ready. There are only five floors, we are on the fifth. Go to the end and on the right side of the hallway will be the room you want. Mine is across the hall from that. If you wish to wait in there and take a seat until I make that other room officially yours, be my guest. Though if you're as tired as you look, you may not want to get back up.”
Volnte realized that his smile may be hard to see in his helm and so he made a friendly gesture as he walked up to the front desk of the inn to purchase the room. His large frame made most people move aside, but one massive, overly drunken man barred his path. The man looked to be several years older than Volnte and roughly a head taller. Abram prepared himself for an old fashioned brawl.
“Excuse me patron, I only need a room and then I’ll be happy to be on my way. Unless you had other plans, of course?”
The man smiled a grisly smile that reeked with the smell of cheap wine. He was so inebriated that he didn’t seem to care who he fought, as long as he got to fight. The man slurred his words as he spoke, almost too drunk to stand.
“Litt’il harlot o’er won’t even gimmie tha time-o-day. But I’m good’a might to share me misery wit you.”
Abram grimaced, he wasn’t in the market for a fight, not at this hour, but it was obvious the man wasnt going to back down.
“Alright, if you want a sobering experience then come and get it, I haven’t got all night.”
The man swung, his hammy fist snagged Volnte’s left antler embedded in his helm and jerked the armor to the side, Volnte forced his chin down so as not to strain his neck and bulled into the man. The wind was knocked from the patron’s stomach and he staggered back, attempting to regain his balance. Abram’s blood was up now and he wanted this to end quickly. He wasnt out to kill or even hurt the man, just get him to stop. He swung his right fist in a feint and then at the last second slammed his open left palm into the side of the man’s head. Volnte had stunned the drunken brawler. In his drunken state, the big man could no longer stand, his head was ringing, the wine was finally taking its toll and he had, had enough beatings, emotionally and physically for the night. He slumped against a nearby table and even it slid away from him. Volnte laughed humorlessly.
“Poor bastard. First the shrew throws him out, then I finish the job the booze started and now the table wont even have him.”
He waved a bartender over and they hefted the man and placed him on a bench, letting him sleep it off in the corner. Abram looked over at the fiery haired woman and said “No offense ma’am, I’m sure you’re perfectly experienced woman” He walked past her and up to the counter.
“I’ll pay double for the room on the fifth floor, the one to the far and right, if you get some people to take the big guy back to his room, and to pay for any damage we caused. He’s had a rough night.” He threw a handful of gold coins onto the counter and as an almost afterthought Volnte added, “If you would, have several extra thick blankets and pillows up to the fifth floor room as well, my friend is worth the added luxury. Or what passes for luxury in Kessig.” The last words were spoken under his breath and the innkeep set about his task.
With this he accepted the key to the woman’s room and looked to see where she had gone. He saw her in the far corner, only visible because of the small wave she gave him. He ventured towards her, keeping to the outskirts of the room and watching the people he passed. She had selected a good spot, a corner where there were two chairs with their backs to the walls so that they could both sit on the same side of the table and keep an eye on the tavern patrons.
“Here’s your key, if you dont like the double bed idea I also had extra blankets and pillows sent up to the room as well so you could at least be marginally comfortable on the floor.” He removed his helm, displaying his battle hardened and weathered face, and sat down. Leaning the chair back slightly when he was settled.
“That’s awfully kind of you, although I do have my cloak and my backpack. They have served me well as a pillow and blanket many times.” She scanned the room and Volnte made to speak, but the way she ended her last sentence in a high tone indicated she was not done speaking. She continued to look back and forth, scanning, as she spoke once again, her voice a little less friendly and little more serious, the meat of the situation was at hand, thought Volnte. “Your kindness is appreciated, but how do you know what I am? Not many a human can say they knew of the Draenei.”
Volnte had expected this, his knowledge of the Draenei was prodigious for most humans, and even this was but a the most barebones of information gathered by Blackguard scouts and from information passed on by several previous Lord Blackguards.
“I will attend to the matter of your comfort first, to get that topic out of the way. So long as I am paying for the rooms and food, I will not have my men or my... Friends, sleeping without the best accommodations I can give. I have ample money and little personal use for it.” he quieted as the server arrived, taking their orders for drinks.
“As for my knowledge of your people, I have seen a drawing of a Draenei, let me be the first to say that it did not do you justice.” He flashed what he hoped was a winning smile but soon his face became more serious and he continued.
“You are the first I’ve ever seen in person. In our archives there was the journal of a particularly artistic scout, it is now several hundred years old, but the parchment is good. Listen to me ramble. Anyway, he saw and drew a quick sketch of a person. According to his journal he and several other scouts were sent to determine whether these new people were friend or foe, whether they consorted with the likes of necromancers or undead. The problem was that they could not understand what you were saying. A small list of translations is listed in the journal but other than a name, a few greetings and the term “The Light” none of the words could be translated. Eventually after no sign of undead or necromantic activity, the Draenei scouting campaign was abandoned as a new wave of necromancy began springing up. You are lucky i recognized you at all.” He looked up as their drinks came back, taking them both off the tray and tossing a coin onto it as the man left. Abram slid the Draenei’s drink to her and took a sip of his own.
“I’m Volnte, by the way, Captain Abram Volnte of the Blackguard. Who are you?”
It seemed to Abram that his friendliness had paid of fand that she had relaxed just a bit around him. Finding an ally in a place like this must have been refreshing. She smiled a friendly smile and Abram was once again pleased with just how attractive his new friend was, though he admitted the horns were as intriguing as they were unsettling. They would take time to get used to.
“Exarch Namyra, you may call me Namyra. Exarch is such a boring title.” She picked up her drink, first smelling the contents of the glass before pressing it to a set of impressively full lips. Abram sat his drink down among the many water stained rings on the table where countless glasses before his had resided.
“Exarch, that sounds like a military rank. A rather high one at that.”
She nodded as she took a sip, holding the glass in both hands, for a woman as large as her, the human sized glass looked comparatively small. Abram nodded at this new development, draining more of his lagger. He sat back and leaned his chair against the nearby wall.
“So what are you here for, Namyra?” He said the name slowly, testing out the new sounds. Abram smirked at how well the syllables flowed, not harshly like his name, but smoothly, like his surprisingly good lagger. She sat the glass down and looked at him and the Captain prepared himself for a story.
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ShockHelix
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Deity of Death
No mercy for the weak. No pity for the dying. No tears for the slain.
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Post by ShockHelix on Apr 11, 2014 11:09:14 GMT -5
“I'm sorry Captain, I told you everything I know. . . I don't know what else you want.”
Theomund rapped his fingers against the wooden table in annoyance as the woman continued to try eluding his questions. He wasn't making much progress with her at all. What little she had told him was enough to know that she was trying to hide something from him. He had heard plenty of whispers of the rumors surrounding the small village of Borderblight – a dark name for a darker town. But now it seemed that almost no one would talk about it. There was definitely something amiss, and all these townsfolk seemed content to forget that the village even existed. He managed to find out that the towns usual trade with Kessig had ceased the previous day, and that a group had been sent to see what had happened to the town. The scouts were supposed to have returned by sunset, but there had been no word or sign of their arrival. Rather then send out a second party, the townsfolk seemed content to drink the night away.
He watched the Blackguard Captain put one of the ignorant locals onto the ground, and watched as the room seemed to grow tense. The captain seemed not to notice for the most part, but there were eyes lingering on him from across the room. Theomund had arrived earlier in the day, but it didn't take more then a few minutes to see how little this town liked outsiders. From the look on their faces, he was surprised that the men stood by while they hauled the drunkard to a bench, and the look on their faces soured even more as the blackguard captain threw some money to the innkeep. It was a generous gesture, but likely all the drunks were going to see was a man better off then them.
The village woman he had been interrogating began to stand, probably assuming Theomund had finished with her, but he shot her a firm glance. “You didn't answer my question. Why wasn't a second search party sent?”
The woman looked around for help, and when she found none, she began to dart past Theomund. With a quick grab, he had her by the wrist, while she pulled at it. “Dammit woman, whats so important you can't tell me why.” The village woman tried pulling herself away desperately, when a man approached with his fists balled up, ready for a fight.
“Ye best be takin' yer hands off my wife.”
With an exasperated sigh, Theomund let the woman go, and she fled the room. Perhaps the reason she'd been so reluctant to answer was fear of her husband. “In that case, you can answer my questions instead. At least one of you worthless drunks has to know what's going on around here.” It was a poor choice of words, and Theomund knew it, but his patience was growing thin and he'd never been one for kindness.
“You'd best watch yer mouth. I ain't answerin' shit for you. Ya can take yer high and mighty self and get the fuck outta my town,” The man raised his voice, and most of the other patrons quieted down, listening to his rant. “You fuckin' outsiders think ya can come in here, do whatever ya damn well please, and ruin our lives. Fill our boys heads with thoughts o' adventurin' and travel. You fuck up our town, lure in the monsters, and leave us to clean up the fuckin' mess.” He pointed a stern finger at the man the blackguard captain had rendered unconscious, and Theomund groaned silently. “Ya think ya can come in here, beat on us, then throw yer damn money around and make everything better? You'd best all get the hell out of town, or you're like to wake up with a few blades in your gullet.”
Theomund raised an eyebrow as the villager stuck his finger in the watch captains face, and very nearly lost his temper right there and then. “You lay a hand on any of us again, and we'll gut each and every one of ya.” Carefully, Theomund curled up a fist, staring down the man and slowly standing up. As he rose, he stood over a foot taller then the drunken villager, and in the corner the men who'd been eyeing the blackguard captain went to their feet as well. The sound of chairs and benches sliding backwards across the bar as people prepared themselves for a fight. One of the people barmaids took off quickly out the door, likely heading for the town guard.
“Well look at you ya fuckin' giant. Ya best get out o' my town ya fuckin' freak. And that goes for the rest of ya too! Get the hell out, and the Blight damn you all!”
Silence fell over the bar again as they waited for a response, and Theomund sighed slightly as he stared at the finger again. Theomund spoke softly, with fire in his voice and hatred in his eyes. “If you know what's good for you, you'll get that finger out of my face and go home, or you'll be waking up rueing the day you ever had your first drink. Damn peasant.” It was clearly the worst choice of words he could have used, and the villagers face turned red with fury. His fist was slow and indirect, with a battlecry that sent his companions into a frenzy. Theomund caught it in his hand and elbowed the drunken villager in the rib cage, sending him sprawling backwards into another patron before the first of his friends reached Theomund. A strong punch sent the second assailant sprawling backwards across a table, as the bar erupted into chaos. The two men that had been attending to the drunken fellow the blackguard Captain had knocked out grabbed bottles and began heading his way, while Theomund tried backing towards his own companions who were on their feet and fighting off their own group.
He shielded himself as someone threw a chair into his side, bracing against the wall as the drunk charged him. With a swift kick that collided with the drunkards stomach, Theomund had the man clutching at his abdomen. The man giving the speech had recovered by now, and Theo blocked a punch to his right before pushing off the wall and plowing into the man. Grabbing him with both arms, Theomund picked the man up and slammed into a table sliding him across and sending him clattering through pints and bottles. He stumbled as a chair was broken across his back, and shielded himself from another blow as he turned to face two more of the drunken attackers. He considered his own weapons for a moment, but thought better against the murder as he blocked another blow from a broken chair leg. The last thing he needed was to deal with the local authorities for murdering a few drunken idiotic peasants.
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Post by Sabess on Apr 11, 2014 22:37:43 GMT -5
Asuna raised an eyebrow as the man carried the drunken peasant in her direction. He aimed both an insult and an apology at Asuna, confusing her slightly. She didn't quite know what to say, so refrained from doing so entirely. She soon returned to being bored shitless, glancing around the room in a hope of finding something to do.
It seemed that Asuna's wish was granted, although it may not of been the ideal solution. A hulking man on the other side of the room was soon being attacked, and it didn't seem he was afraid to fight back. She watched the scene unfold, the sudden event taking her off guard. Before she knew it, the bar had erupted into a full-on brawl. Asuna decided it wasn't her fight, attempting to head for the door. Before she knew it, however, a hand was on her shoulder. She dashed forward to escape, turning her head as she did so. "Where th' fuck do you think you're going, missy? After tellin' my brother to fuck off lik' that?" A hulking man stood proudly behind her. Asuna turned to face him, putting a hand on her sword however deciding against drawing it. It seemed this man was the drunk's brother that she had so coldly rejected, even if it was through silence.
The man, clearly intoxicated himself, threw a sluggish punch at Asuna. She wasn't exactly a master when it came to hand-to-hand, but her agility benefited her greatly. She made a quick leap to the side, the man almost crashing into a wall. Asuna followed this up by moving towards the man at a lightning speed, crouching and delivering a quick jab to the groin. She didn't have a chance fighting fairly, even if she was stronger than she looked. The man fell to the ground in agony, clutching his crotch. "Bitch..." he whispered, barely able to talk.
After several eyes fell onto her, Asuna realised that she couldn't escape so easily. Three men sped towards her, clearly in a rage over what had just transpired. "Dammit." Asuna muttered under her breath, getting ready for the drunken peasants moving towards her. Two of them moved to her front, while the other tried to flank behind her. One of the men in-front of her threw a punch, Asuna moving to the side and ducking out of the way. She pulled his arm, forcing him in the direction he was already stumbling in. He lost his balance, tripping over on his own feet. Asuna drew her sword and pointed it at the other man's neck in one fluid motion. He threw his hands up and took a step back, fearing for his life, even in his drunken state. Asuna heard hasty footsteps approaching her, clearly the man who had tried to flank her. She crouched at the very last moment. The man behind her threw a mighty punch, however it did nothing but send his friend flying across the room. Taking advantage of his moment of confusion, and having her back turned towards him, Asuna elbowed the man in the balls without mercy. He too fell to the ground, screaming in pure agony. "Idiots." Asuna stated, bluntly.
Asuna sheathed her sword, and now unable to escape fighting, moved towards the man whom had started the drunken brawl. She had no intention of fighting him, however the more drunken peasants she managed to put into infernal anguish, the quicker the drunken fight could end. A drunk threw a punch at the unnaturally large man whom had started the entire affair, however was quickly stopped as Asuna delivered a quick kick to his groin. In his ridiculously shocked and weakened state, she rammed against him, pushing him over. She prepared for more, raising her fists, even if they wouldn't help her a large amount.
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Apr 12, 2014 9:30:44 GMT -5
Namyra lowered the glass down to the table, fingers on both hands drumming lightly against the glass. She smiled as he wrestled with the pronunciation of her name, Volnte as he clearly preferred to be called was quite a harsh sounding name. She ran it over in her head a number of times, she had spoken many a name in her years both foreign and not. Yet the ingenuity of languages always created more for her to wrestle with.
She opened her mouth to begin her tale at Telar, but her words caught tightly in her throat as one of the locals raised his voice. The inn seemed to silence, she could almost snap the tension in the air with her finger. Then it came to blows and before she knew it the locals had risen up to assault the newcomers. She watched as several went towards the stranger and, now that she saw them clearly, his companions. More went towards another traveler, a girl, but before she could discern the outcome of that engagement patrons on neighbouring tables had rose up and stalked towards Namyra and her temporary companion.
They faced him, not her, as they spoke their slurred threats. "You beat'un up on Wilhelm for? You Blackguard bastards are nothin' but trouble! We'll sho-" the portly man was cut short, for Namyra had rose from her seat and in one quick motion had gripped the stained edges of the wooden table and flipped it forwards. The table traveled with tremendous force, slamming into the two's chest and sending them sprawled across the creaky floorboards. They didn't stir.
With any luck they weren't dead.
She stepped forward to assess the damage she had done to the men. She cringed at the blood soaking into the cloth on one of the men's arm. A smaller, less hulking opponent came at her from the side, using her pause to his advantage . He took a punch and it connected with a quickly outstretched palm. She let it travel, pulling her arm back, before turning his force and weight skywards. He screamed in pain as his arm was twisted out of its socket, it made her sigh inaudible over the racket.
She let go of his limp arm and the man continued forwards to land next to her. "We do not have time for this!" She called out to Volnte as another local took a swing at her from, clearly these men were so intoxicated they couldn't see the threat for what it was. Shifting her weight onto the opposite hoof she dodged the blow, then threw out the other hoof into the Man's stomach. He flew backwards and came to a heavy landing on a far table.
Not as soon as her foot touched the ground had a large man, impressively almost as tall as she was with arms like a bear, grabbed her from behind. She could smell the ale on his breath and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was thankful for her hood keeping the fetid wheeze from touching her skin. "Teach you t'come where you ain't wanted." He spluttered out, amidst his foul odour.
"I came in peace, now I'm getting tired of your insults." She ended her harsh sounding words by thrusting her head backwards into the mans face. Her hood fell free, the horns it had been covering connecting violently with the mans soft face. The tips punctured his cheeks and the trunk of them battered his forehead. He was lucky he didn't lose an eye in the process. The bear arms let go soon enough as he stumbled backwards into a chair.
"Are we done here!?" She shouted out, with little but the groans of bodies around her as a response. She wished this could have ended more diplomatically, nobody needed to be hurt this day - indeed she had soured a little at Volnte's method dealing with the man at the bar, in typical Human fashion. Yet here she was. Two more patrons stood at the edge of her circle of carnage, wide quickly sobering eyes stared at her blue flesh, her horns and her hooves. They were visibly shaken, yet both drew knives from their person.
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Post by Possessedcheddar on Apr 12, 2014 15:31:21 GMT -5
Volnte watched Namyra tap her fingers against the glass, cool beads of condensation came off on the fingers. She seemed to be preparing mental notes or perhaps, as he had done with hers, going over his name in her head. He quite liked his name but not everyone was so inclined. He smiled for a second, the expression lingering on his face until it returned to a neutral expression, a sardonic frown created by the ugly scar on his face. He absentmindedly ran his finger over the scar, tracing down his jawline and across his face to where it stopped at his lips. He wasn’t a huge fan, but the grim wound had served him well when dealing with undesirables. His face was the direct contrast of Namyra’s. Where his entire face was weathered and serious, only her eyes were this way. The rest was smooth and well preserved for a soldier.
His thoughts were interrupted as she opened her mouth to speak. Someone else beat her to it.
“Well look at you ya fuckin' giant. Ya best get out o' my town ya fuckin' freak. And that goes for the rest of ya too! Get the hell out, and the Blight damn you all!” This was one of the tavern patrons to a man roughly the same size as Namyra. He thought for a second how much larger the people around here were than him. At well over six feet, he was very tall. But these people were giants. He forced his mind to stop wandering and took stock of the situation. He realized now that his assault on the drunkard at the front desk was just the excuse the peasantry here needed to incite a barroom brawl.
Soon after, several different knots of tavern goers split off towards all the outsiders in the place. They came for himself, Namyra, A giant and his companions, and a strange fiery haired woman with abnormally sharp features sitting alone in a corner. He had no time to see any other outsiders as two men arrived in front of the table he was at. He thought they were here for Namyra, her being the most alien of them all, but realized that he was the only one who knew who or what she was. They were here for him. To himself he muttered, “We do not have enough benches for all these louts to lay on. Some will have to settle for the floor.” Namyra must have heard him because she afforded him a quick glance before the newly arrived men began their tirade.
"You beat'un up on Wilhelm for? You Blackguard bastards are nothin' but trouble! We'll sho-" Namyra apparently grew tired of the man quickly, for she flipped the table over on him and his companion, snapping some rather important sounding bones in the process. Volnte was happy he wouldn’t have to look after her, for several men came his way as well.
Four men came at him, one brandishing a broken bottle and another, a wicked looking knife. Volnte said “Now gentlemen, this really isn’t a fair fight.” One of them scoffed at him and quipped about not caring so long as Volnte ended up in a pool of his own blood. He had no intention of being beaten by a group of inbred, backwater peasants in their shithole town. He used the brief pause to quickly bring his foot down on the newly capsized table and broke one of its thick legs off. Hefting it like a club and using a small bit of magic to make his eyes flash a cerulean blue, he said “Now. Now it is a fair fight, shall we?”
With this, he didn’t even wait for them to move first. He slammed the end of the leg into the knife-wielding man’s nose, crushing the nasal septum in an impressive spray of blood. He staggered back and screamed as the fragile bone and delicate nerves around his eyes and nose were brutally battered. His companions took an involuntary step back as the blood sprayed out giving Abram just enough time to savagely slam the table leg into the side of the man’s head, tearing the ear and eliciting another agonized scream.
The three remaining men were angry now, the charged as one, trying to pin his arms against his body. He ran forward, abandoning his table leg and meeting their charge. He dropped into the basic warrior stance, the position he’d been taught that any attack could be launched from. Knees bent, feet shoulder width apart, and this effectively lowered his center of gravity and made him harder to knock over. It also allowed him a position to snap back to after every strike so he could instantly launch another. He slammed a wicked knife-hand strike into the leading man’s throat. As he fell, one man slipped under Volnte’s right uppercut and got in behind him. Volnte felt an arm snake over his and jerk him around. He dropped low and put his shoulder under the man’s ribs as he was involuntarily turned. With all his might he rammed the unforgiving metal of his shoulder guard up into the man’s soft stomach and lifted him off the ground into the wall. The man’s mouth exploded open, all the air knocked from his body and he slid down the wall gasping for breath. Volnte turned, but not fast enough to avoid the haymaker punch thrown at him by the last man.
It caught him right about the left temple, blurring his vision and leaving him dazed. He absorbed another such blow to the stomach and even through his armor he felt its effects. But so too did the man. The shock of hitting the unforgiving plate had reverberated up his arm and he stepped back, clutching it. Volnte was hurting now; the two punches landed by this man were brutal. A look at the man’s attire said he was the town blacksmith, a fiercely strong man indeed.
Volnte heard the man behind him stand and turned in time to redirect the kick aimed at the inside of his leg at the knee, had it connected, it would have probably crippled him for life. So, the scale has escalated. This isn’t a fight anymore; it’s kill or be killed, Abram thought to himself. Killing was what Captain Volnte did best. Abram kicked the man behind him in the shin, splintering the tibia and dropping him to a knee. He whipped back around and backhanded the blacksmith charging at him, making sure he raked his spiked gauntlet across the man’s face. The blacksmith’s face was torn to ribbon and he roared at Volnte as he charged. Volnte roared back and grabbed the man by the throat. He felt vice like hands wrap around his own neck and the two began a battle of wills. His battle hardened hands squeezed with all their might against the bull-necked metal worker. His vision began to blur and the only reason he wasn’t already dead was because of how hard he was squeezing the other man’s neck. If he let off even fractionally, he would die.
The bloody visage stared at him am arm’s length away and promised death, Volnte knew this needed to be over quickly. He poured on his reserves of strength and turned the man towards the wall. The blacksmith squeezed harder than ever, sensing The Captain’s plan and Volnte’s movement paused. He could barely see anything except the face of the man he was about to kill and the wrought iron wall sconce he would use to do it. Volnte slammed the man’s head into the wall, using all his body’s weight to do so. His massive armored frame crushed several ribs, making the blacksmith loosen his grip ever so slightly. It was the break Volnte needed. He turned the man, they could both see the sconce, and the metal tine that the candle snuffer hung on, protruding from it. Fear entered the metal worker’s eyes and Volnte, in his current state only saw weakness. He mercilessly slammed the man’s head into the spike, ripping his cheek open to the bone. The hands around his neck loosened even more, not so much choking him anymore but rather hanging on for dear life. Volnte slammed the blacksmith’s head into the scone once more, avoiding the gouging spike this time.
The hands let go entirely.
The blacksmith looked up at Volnte, his face a ruined mass of blood and bubbling saliva and tears. Volnte threw him onto the floor where the man curled up in a ball. The Captain kicked him several times in the back, head, legs, anywhere his foot would connect with the man squirming and thrashing about while he screamed. “The only reason I don’t kill you is because I’m sure you have a family and I’m equally sure the guards will be livid if I kill your sorry ass. You’re a better blacksmith than a warrior, I assure you.” He left the man to whimper pitifully on the floor and turned around to survey his handiwork. He looked over the four men, beaten, broken, and in a world of hurt but still alive, barely. Volnte saw the rest of the patrons looked similar to the ones he had dealt with. There were still some knots of fighting, but for the most part, bodies littered the floor. He saw Namyra slam her horns into a massive man’s face and as he fell Abram called out “Care for a drink? Mind the blood though.” She didn’t look overly amused, her hair was matted with blood and specks of it covered her face. She yelled out “Are we done here!?” and at that instant the a Guard Lieutenant and his men burst through the door, armed to the teeth and armored just the same.
“Yes you are. You will all stop or I won’t bother with arresting you, there won’t be anything left to send to jail. Do not test me.” He waited a moment to ensure that his orders were followed. The two men eyeing Namyra didn’t seem to hear the man and he bellowed for their benefit. “I said drop the fucking weapons you cretins. I will not repeat myself.” The two men complied and for all intents and purposes, this fight was over.
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ShockHelix
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Deity of Death
No mercy for the weak. No pity for the dying. No tears for the slain.
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Post by ShockHelix on Apr 16, 2014 14:09:00 GMT -5
As the fight broke out, Mance tried to ignore at first. He'd watched the blackguard captain take the last drunkard off his feet, and he'd served with his own captain long enough to know that the man was perfectly capable of handling a bunch of drunks. Instead, he motioned for Talia to keep her head down, and continued sipping away at his pint of ale. By his standards, the brew was weak and diluted, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the owner watered it down first. Then again, his body was much hardier then any of these humans. With a smirk, he thought he might as well be drinking water for all the good it did him. He watched Talia watch the fight, up until one of the scrambling drunks was tossed backwards and went sliding across his table, sending the ale splashing into his lap. His younger companions unease got the best of her as the girl jumped up and waded into the brawl. The man who'd been flung across the table staggered to his feet, as two more men joined him to help him up. His evening drink disrupted, the Ranger pushed away the bench as he stood, popping his neck and his knuckles.
Almost as tall as Theomund, he stood a foot over any of the three men, and they looked up at him, debating with themselves whether or not to try taking him on. Mance smacked his chest with a balled fist and laughed. “Come on then, have at it!” The simple taunt seemed to be enough as the first drunk came at him, rearing back his fist. The man was slow and drunk, and the skilled ranger kicked him swiftly in the chest, a crunching noise emanating from the drunkards ribs. The two that had went to help him up were a bit smarter, and a bit less drunk. They came at Mance as one, the both of them running forward. With a step backwards and a firm kick, Mance hit the bench he'd been sitting on outwards, and both of the men tumbled over it, to slow to react in their inebriated state. One of the two tried scrambling to his knees, but Mance reached him a moment later a swift knee to the face took him out of the fight.
The ranger didn't have time to turn around before the other man got to his feet, and had grabbed the metal pint glass Mance had been drinking from a moment earlier. As he turned, the drunkard flung it at him, and a quick sidestep let the ranger narrowly avoid the metal colliding with his head. Using the distraction to his advantage, the man charged at Mance, colliding with rangers massive frame and nearly causing him to lose his balance. Mance's back slammed into one of the support beams around the tavern, and he used the wall to push back against the drunkard, sending him tumbling over backwards. As the drunk got back to his knees, Mance grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him upwards, lifting the man into the air as he struggled to try and free himself from Mance's grip.
“Yes you are. You will all stop or I won’t bother with arresting you, there won’t be anything left to send to jail. Do not test me.” Turning his head to the side, Mance noticed that the fight in the bar had just about ended, though a few of them had begun to draw weapons. First his drink had been ruined, and now his fun.
“I said drop the fucking weapons you cretins. I will not repeat myself.”
He wasn't sure if the man counted as a weapon, but he dropped him to the ground anyway, and the drunkard backed away clutching at his neck and breathing heavily. Across the room, a few weapons clanged against the ground, broken bottles and metal glasses, and like that the fight was over. A few of the patrons plopped to the ground as well, tired and bleeding out of one cut or another. It was clear by the look of things whether or not the 'outsiders' or the villagers had won, and the Lieutenant seemed to take it harshly.
“By the Blight, I can't lock all of you up for this mess. . . . You five however. The Captain can deal with you. I won't have you running off before you can make up for all the damage you've caused. The rest of you clean yourselves up.”
He signaled the other guards, and with a point of the finger, they approached each of the outsiders. “I expect you'll come quietly. Or not. I don't much care either way,” he said, scowling at them all and pulling his sword halfway out of it's sheathe. Mance didn't much care for the lieutenants assumptions, but even though they could cut the man down, it wasn't likely they'd get very far against the whole of Kessig's guard force. He kept his mouth shut as the guard reached him, and handed over his axe reluctantly as Theomund surrendered most of his own weapons.
The lieutenant, however, seemed content to continue his monolgue as his guardsmen took the outsiders weapons. It was clear he wasn't very educated on anything in the world besides his home. “And what do we have here, exactly? A mercenary, two half-giants, a prostitute, and a. . . demon? Sounds like the start of a bad joke.” Across the room, Theomund begun to speak, but the lieutenant cut him off. “No, I don't care what you actually are. You can spill your excuses and story to the Captain. For now, you can keep your mouth shut and start moving.”
Silently, Mance looked towards his own captain, and Theomund gave him a curt nod. With a sigh, he let the guardsmen usher him into the street, and lead them on a quiet walk to the barracks. He took the time instead to study the others with him, and it was at that moment he realized that Talia was missing. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her since the lieutenant had shown up, and wondered where she might have gotten off to. He could only hope she didn't do anything rash, and hoped the same of Theomund. Mance would not have been surprised if his captain had decided to try fighting his way out. Reaching the barracks more quickly then Mance had expected, they were led inside and to the Captain's office. All Mance could hope was that no one tried anything rash. That seemed to be the method of the day, unfortunately.
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Post by Sabess on Apr 19, 2014 23:55:00 GMT -5
Aeryn Black had been the proud leader of the town guard for years. Even so, she'd never seen a bar fight this large, nor the strange individuals that had shuffled into her office. Her feet sat on her hard wooden desk, albeit covered by somewhat heavy metal boots. She had already spoken with the lieutenant, now filled in on the details. "Hmmmm." She pondered to herself, unsure of what to do. She soon rose from the desk, taking a rather large copper ring, fit with several keys hanging from it. "I will decide your punishment tomorrow. For now, you'll be kept in separate cells. I'm not convinced you would survive a night anywhere else in Kessig, after the incident." She led them to the few cells that Kessig had built, unlocking them motioning for the group to enter them. "Separate cells." Areyn reminded them. Asuna entered a cell at random, not wanting to piss off the town guard more than she already had.
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ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Apr 20, 2014 9:51:36 GMT -5
((As the prior post doesn't meet the 3 paragraph minimum and the 3 day post limit was reached I'll be taking that as a skip, however I'll incorprate elements of it for dialogue as if they were asked to be put in. Can't say I'm not nice.))
The Kessig Watch, outfitted in chainmail with leather tabards bearing their sigil, approached the five 'outsiders' of the inn. There were seven of them in total, not including their captain who stood at the door. Each approached the outsiders with sword partially drawn, a warning that excessive force would be used in any attempt to escape.
The man approaching the Captain of the Blackguard spoke first, for he was the first to reach the outsiders. His voice was grave and stern, the threat of violence practically oozing from his cracked lips. "I'll ask you to come with us freely once, arms up." he didn't immediately go to restrain the man, but it was clear he would do such.
The aging man almost seemed annoyed when Volnte raised his arms from his sides without protest. "Of course. Lead on, unless of course you prefer to walk behind me so you can jab me in the ribs a few times." Volnte was led outside, the guard behind him with his left hand at the top of his back guiding him out.
Meanwhile the other six guards had approached the rest of the outsiders, one had reached the young Muertian woman and she too gave herself willingly over to the guards. There was no protest as she was led outside, she merely seemed annoyed that her quiet night had been spoilt. Three men approached the two other 'human' outsiders, the youngest of the three being a little intimidated by the half-giant Theomund was backed up by a much larger male, his build almost rivaling the town's Blacksmith. It was he who talked to the two outsiders, his thick bristly black moustache twitching across his face like some insect larvae. "You 'eard the Lieutenant. Arms up, outside." the two men complied, although they seemed to exchange glances of annoyance.
As for Namyra, she yet stood facing the two guards that approached her. Both were quite young, and seemingly shared the same mother, father or both for they looked almost identicle if not for age. With her, they barred their swords fully for fear of what the Lieutenant had called a 'demon' crept across their faces. It mildly amused Namyra, her soft blue lips curled up to one side in a slight snarl - showing the sharp canine of her species at the right side of her mouth. It startled the two younguns, for she looked like nothing they had ever seen before - horns, hooves, tendrils, blue skin and a tail that whipped gently behind her. The Watch Lieutenant approached them, his heavy boots beating holes out of the rickety wooden floor. He spoke to the two men as he approached, but kept his eyes firmly locked on Namyra's "What are you two, poultry?" He reached her, he would be standing eye-to-eye if he didn't reach but her neck. It didn't seem to dissuade him, for his voice rose the distance with ease and a cold sterness to it. "You, Demon, outside. We've no care for what you are but your trouble causing is not welcome here."
She straightened her back, she was a proud Draenei, not a Demon. She would go willingly, but the insult thrown from this man's mouth would be remembered. Her voice bore the wound like a dagger, her words oozed with toxic hate for the word he had called her, yet she remain composed enough to not tear his arms off. "As you say, Lieutenant. Lead me out.".
Namyra joined the others outside, leaving the innkeep to mourn the loss of half his furniture and the patrons to mourn the loss of many pieces of teeth and bones. The procession of five were led towards the Watch Office, a tall grand looking building that belied what lay inside. For as they were marched through the heavy wooden gates they were met by a dark, intimidating room, that was dimly lit and possitively grim. A blonde woman approached them, she would be young and pretty if not for the premature aging that Humans in positions of authority took upon themselves. It bore in her eyes, and she looked annoyed at the mere sight of the five. With a heavy sigh she moved over to a desk, which she sat behind and raised her booted feet upon. It was clear she owned the place as the Lieutenant informed her of the situation they had all been found in. The guards that had came with the group lined them up and begun searching for weaponry, confiscating every single sharp blade or heavy tool they could find as well as all their belongings bar their armour, although metal gauntlets and Volnte's horned helmet were taken. Her eyes lingered over the group as he spoke, before she finally hummed with thought. "It's late. I'll deal with them tomorrow." she started, "Lock them in the cells. Seperate the sexes, we don't want a repeat fiasco." she rose from her wooden desk with a ring of keys then led them out through a door at the back. There was stairs here, for the cells went deep beneath the building through a cellar and then some. It was dark, more dimly lit than the room upstairs, and the smell of mould and rot oozed through the area. There seemed to be noone else in the cells at this time, the five were honoured guests. The woman opened the first door, and pointed at the Murtian woman. "You, in." she said, before looking over Namyra and quickly descerning she was the female of her species "You too, no funny business."
The Muertian quickly stepped inside, followed by Namyra who wrinkled her nose at the smell of the cell. There was at least some hay on the floor to sit on - although it looked to have no been changed in generations of her own species nevermind Humans. At least there were no bones this time. The Captain locked the iron bars behind them, leaving the two women confined in the dark stone cell, a torch flickered straight across from it providing some light for most of the cell. Namyra sat down with a hearty sigh in what she descerned the cleanest part of the cell - the middle back. She watched out as the rest of the outsiders were marched deeper into the block of cells, catching Volnte's eye and giving him a reassuring smile before he was shoved ahead.
And shoved he was, for the guards hastened to the back of the row of cells. "Best the two groups are not kept near each other." she informed them as she unlocked yet another iron gate. "All of you, in. Like I told them, no funny business." Each milled in after the other, and the Watch Captain locked the slightly-rusted gate behind them. The cell the men found themselves in was much like the one Namyra and Asuna were left in - however with three bodies over two it was a little more cramped. Still enough space to sit, maybe enough space to lie, but not enough space to make hayangels on the floor.
The sound of the Captain marching down the stone echoed throughout the cells and soon she was the only one left in the corridor, the other guards having filed up the stairs. "Tomorrow someone will bring you food," the word came out a little strange, as if she didn't quite believe it would be what she called it, "and water in the morn. I'll be discussing what to do with you all, but don't make any dinner plans for a while. Enjoy the night." she called as she left, although Namyra was slightly thankful the night would be spent safe in this jail than outside the walls.
Namyra didn't really bother to communicate with her cellmate, instead she slumped her head towards her chest and closed her eyes. The night was late and, quite honestly she was tired from her journey. So she slept, slept until she thought it was morning but the lack of natural light in the cells made it hard to know if she had been sleeping for hours or minutes. She looked around groggily, and noticed her cellmate curled up asleep. She stretched her leg out, prodding the girl gently with her hoof. It was more to see if she was still alive, because even to Namyra the girl looked pale and in this light she couldn't see if her chest moved. The bundle of clothing and human started, she was awake then. Well now she was. "Good Morning, sleepy head." she whispered to the girl, "Or at least, I think it's morning."
As if answering her call, footsteps sounded outside. A guard bareing a torch came along with a tray of bowls and cups. Another passed him, heading towards the male's cell. The guard at her cell put the tray on a table just to the side of the gate and with the now free hand, passed the bowls and cups through the bar. He stared at Namyra, the expression on his face warning her to keep her distance as he slid the bowls of some white substance onto the floor with wooden rough hewn cups of water. He stepped back and Namyra gingerly took her bowl, sniffing the contents and dipping a finger in them. It was cold, almost congealed liquid. Although it bore some sort of seed or did they call it 'oat' that floated around the congealed mass. Overall it was completely unappetising. But it was better than nothing and using her fingers, Namyra scooped some of it out and into her mouth.
She looked up to the gate, the guard was gone - but he was replaced with another body. A tall, lithe form that stood in leather boots and a cloth jerkin - bathed in greens and yellows and embossed with leaves. A woman, clearly, but the pretty yet angular face was framed with two sharp upwards-pointing ears. Namyra felt the fool, her fingers still at her lips as she looked over the woman. The Elf. She shot up, almost throwing her congealed food across the floor. She ran to the iron gate and performed quite the curtsey. "Eshu Bala'rah, Kenedore." she said with a clear, foreign tongue that only those knowledgable of the language Kenelaith Elves would understand. "Hasu ti'ah te?" she spoke quickly, almost excitedly as she rose herself from the curtsey to grip the iron bars of the door.
The Elf let out a musical laugh, that lightened Namyra's heart. "Te eh guar'an, Draenei." her accent seemed much more at home with the words than Namyra's, for it rung brighter and almost lyrical. "My name is Tareesa Skyshard." her change to the common Human tongue was almost instant and threw Namyra off a little, but she responded quickly.
"My name is Namyra, Lady Skyshard. This is -" she turned to the human occupying her cell, and realised she did not know her name. "I apologise, I do not know her name." she waited for the woman to introduce herself, before looking back to the Elf who spoke again.
Her lips wrapped around the Human language like they were born into it, and Namyra was almost jealous of her intricate understand of the language. "The Captain informed me a non-Human had been taken to the Cells. As Ambassador for the Horde here in Kessig, I came to see if a Galabrashi Troll - for they described you as blue-skinned - had been taken. Instead I find a Draenei." the Elf stopped to this time admire Namyra, and she found her cheeks darkening blue at the admiring look in the Elf's eyes, "I'm sure your tale is long and important, but I am concerned with getting you out of here. A Draenei does not belong locked in a cage. I assumed you knew of the four you had been locked away with, so I am petitioning for your early releases but progress is slow with the Captain. I have already had all your belongings that I could find, bar those confiscated here, taken to a clearing outside the town. The Blackguard at the inn informed me their Captain had been taken too, so they are guarding your belonging at the clearing. Yours, hers," the Elf pointed a long finger in the direction of Asuna, "and the Blackguard Captains." Tereesa paused, a slight frown creeping across her pretty features "Although I could not find any information on your two other companions."
Tereesa stood back from the gate quickly, and at the look on her face so did Namyra. A grizzled masculine voice called down from the stairs, out of Namyra's view. "Time's up, Miss Skyshard. Captain wants you upstairs."
Tereesa nodded to the figure beyond Namyra's view, then turned back to the cell. Her eyes caught Namyra's, and they expressed a promise of words spoken truly. "I will get you out of here, Namyra. It may take days but you will be out and on your way with little trouble. I will even see about getting your confiscated goods taken to the clearing." her soft voice changed and she spoke in her musical native tongue once more, a delight to Namyra's ears in this uncivilized land, "Tel Eshu tiak'ah, Draenei."
They exchanged bows, and the Elf silently moved up the stairs as if but a shadow had passed by. Namyra stepped back from the gate and sat back on her haunches, taking the bowl again in her hands and eating the congealed food. All the while her eyes stared at the spot where the Elf had once been.
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Post by Possessedcheddar on Apr 20, 2014 13:27:50 GMT -5
Abram was pushed past the female’s cell and caught a smile from Namyra. It was easy to see, even in the gloom. Her white teeth contrasted well against her blue lips. He enjoyed the smile; a friendly smile was a definite morale booster in light of the night he had to look forward to. He looked at the hall before him again, to watch where he was being roughly shoved. The Captain gritted his teeth at this whole ignoble affair and decided that he was more than ready to abandon Kessig to whatever fate awaited it.
As they approached the rusty iron bars of the men’s cell, Abram noted its sordid conditions and sighed inwardly. They shoved him in and he pressed back against the wall as two other massive men were shoved in as well. More like prodded and they decided to go in, if he were to think about it. Like a lion when prodded by a man might decide to go into his cage, to humor the human.
Once they were settled in, the door clanged shut behind them and the night officially began. Volnte had a hellacious headache and he sat down, his armored back clinking against the time-worn metal. He looked at his companions hooded expressions and was glad that the dim firelight didn’t reach all the way down to where they resided.
“Better get packed in, this looks like home for the night.” He pressed his head back against the bars and heard the captain remark that there would be food tomorrow. He relayed this information to his cell-mates and received a silent stare from one and a grunt from the other. “I see you’re as excited about prison cuisine as I am.” With this he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep. In this prison, the stone swallowed all the sound. It was unnaturally quiet. He was used to being around his men and their horses and attempting to sleep with a great deal of noise. The silence was unsettling. Eventually sleep came to the Captain and he stayed this way until his internal clock, set by years of waking up at early hours of the day. He guessed it was about daybreak and he sat up, paying attention to the snippets of conversation he could hear from the other end of the hallway. Female voices.
He heard Namyra and a woman with a voice like tinkling glass speaking in another language before switching to English. He heard the glass voice woman say that his men were in a clearing with their gear and that she was attempting to secure their release. He smiled to himself and mouthed the word “perfect” as he watched his companions wake. Maybe they were morning people. But he doubted that.
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ShockHelix
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Deity of Death
No mercy for the weak. No pity for the dying. No tears for the slain.
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Post by ShockHelix on Apr 22, 2014 8:01:58 GMT -5
Talia slunk away from view as the guard lieutenant entered the tavern, quickly concealing herself with magic. She could feel it coursing through her veins as she turned completely transparent, nothing but a shimmer in the air to even the most well trained eyes. This was her job – backup. It bothered her, and she didn't know why Theomund chose not to just fight his way out of town like usual, but it meant she needed to do some proper information gathering before she settled on a plan. She'd have to get them out one way or another, someone would eventually start asking questions, and it wasn't time yet for the Watch to reveal themselves. While the lieutenant let her companions away, Talia made for the stairs of the inn, deciding to take one step of the plan at a time. If Theomund had let himself be taken, then that meant he was up to something, and with the Blackguard Captain and strange Draenei being taken, she could only assume it had something to do with them. She reached one of the doors of the inn, and gave it three strong knocks. After a short moment, a half dressed Blackguard soldier opened the door, and Talia released her magic, materializing in front of the man. Well trained, the man didn't even flinch, but rather raised an eyebrow as Talia smiled back. “ Our Captains have been taken captive by the town watch, good sir. I'm going to get them out.” Five hours later. . . . It had taken quite some time, and a few spells at that, but the plan had been settled and Talia had all of the information she needed. With the magic wrapped back around her, the transparency seemed to cling to her skin, and she stood outside the Watch Office. Carefully, she made her way to the door, searching for any magical wards that would give her presence away. It was a force of habit, with how lacking Kessig was in magicks. She'd yet to encounter anything so far, and she carefully cracked the door, peeking inside. She barely made out the figure of a guardsman approaching the door, and quickly pulled herself back out of the way. The door was flung open by whom she now recognized as the lieutenant, in an obvious fury over her brother. She'd gotten that from the innkeep, though the man hadn't been too comfortable with talking to her. Quickly, she slipped in unnoticed through the open door before it shut back on it's own, and made her way inside. She hadn't found any blueprints of the Watch Office, so she resorted to good old fashioned exploration to find everything she needed. The Captain's office was obvious, but she needed to find the cells, the lockup, and hopefully a secondary exit. Quickly and quietly, she began searching the various rooms, careful not to disturb anyone as they worked or slept. She would look through keyholes when possible and nearly frightened herself out of invisibility when she walked in on the barracks, full of sleeping guardsmen. Eventually, she found the lockup, surprisingly void of equipment save for the weapons of her companions and the three others that had been taken with them. From there, it was easier to find her way to the cells, down a series of staircases past the cellars and into the dark. The cells themselves were very dimly lit, and she was surprised that the humans could even see in this darkness. Coming from the torch light above, it took her eyes a few moments to adjust, but soon she could make out the cells clearly enough, with her two companions and the blackguard captain nearby. At the other end of the hall, not too far away, the Draenei and Muertian were asleep in their own cell. She wasn't surprised in the least to see Mance and Theomund standing up, their lips moving quietly. She approached them without a sound, preferring to eavesdrop on their conversation. Eavesdropping had been a long time hobby of hers, and for a moment she smiled at the thoughts of home and the capitol. She had to press herself against the bars just to hear their quiet words, her companions undoubtedly trying to mask their speech from the sleeping blackguard captain. “ We don't know who she is Mance, that's the problem. The Blackguard makes sense, there are ghosts and vampires in Kessig, and they no doubt suspect that the dead have something to do with the town disappearances. But the Draenei? There's no telling what she's up to, or even why Voltne would take interest in her. It's all too suspicious.” “ Hmph. She's probl'ay 'ere for the same reason them Blackguard is. Really Theo, why do we care? Let them do their search. We already know what the problem is, more or less. Ain't gonna find out n'ymore by askin' them questions is we?” “ Not about that, no. But maybe they're plotting something. They're both minor groups of the Horde and The Council. I wouldn't care if their father nations weren't about to slaughter each other. But they are, and here these two are playing nice with each other. Either one of them is two-faced, or they're up to something.” Talia kept her mouth shut for the conversation, then poked Mance between the eyes as soon as it was nearing an end. “ Boy, you're readin' int'a somethin' that just ain't there. Age don't make ya wise. Mark my words, they might make friends out o' each other, but their ain't nothin' sinister- Bloody 'ell?” She giggled to herself, but kept her invisibility up. “ It's past your bedtimes, boys. Tsk tsk.” Mance grinned, but Theomund was not amused in the slightest. “ This isn't a time for games Talia. I expected you to show up hours ago.” “ Good to see you too,” Talia continued, matching their hushed tone and leaning as close as she could. “ I figured you wanted to figure out who your new roommates with. And I needed an escape plan because trying to get six people unnoticed in the middle of the night through a closed gate where they check everyone before they open it wasn't going to go very well. I'd like to escape without starting a fight for once, thank you very much.” Theomund wasn't impressed in the slightest, and his face slowly crept into a snarl. “ Out with it. Now.” She sighed quietly, crossing her arms defensively. “ Fine. . . fine. . . the Draenei is 'Namyra the Vindicator.' I'm not sure if that's a position or an order, but she's an exarch within the Draenei. And I think that makes her an ambassador of some sorts. Or maybe a missionary. Just act like you know what it means. The other girl is a Muertian, come to find. Yuki Asuna. The information was blotchy, but she doesn't seem to of much importance to any group, unless she's got some anti-scry magic over here. Which could mean she's a spy. But it's probably just a coincidence that she's here in the same town as the Blackguard Captain. . . riiiiight?” Theomund's scowl had nearly faded away, but Talia's slight harassment was enough to bring it back while she continued her report. “ As for the locals in the fight, all of them were fairly standard peasants. The innkeep was happy to answer my questions after I greased his greedy palms a bit. We might have a spy in him. I took down his name. As I was saying however, the man your new friend over there beat into a blood pulp over there was one of the city's blacksmiths. His brother just so happens to be the same man that arrested you. I managed to see him leaving the building in a fury when I came in. And he apparently has a habit of taking the law into his own hands. With more and more people disappearing from the farming villages, and the rumors of undead and town's being destroyed, the innkeep said he wouldn't be surprised if the Lieutenant started a war for your head.” Theomund grunted. “ Well that's reassuring.” “ Well, you two won't have to stand trial, so don't worry too much,” she said with a transparent grin. “ I'll be back in the morning to let you all out. The Blackguard have agreed to help since their Captain's involved. Though one was very adamant that the law should be followed, and was confident that you'd all – or at least his captain – would be freed as soon as a trial happened. I bribed them with the hint of knowledge about what's going on with the towns.” Mance was still grinning, and elbowed his Captain in the side. “ They shoulda' made her Captain. If ya wasn't so damned worried 'bout every little thing, they probably would've too.” Theomund seethed gritting his teeth behind his scowl. “ Your opinion isn't appreciated Mance. Talia, you're dismissed. We'll see you in the morning.” “ Not even a thank you?” “ No.” Talia pouted, not that Theomund could see it, and left to sneak back to the inn. Just because they had to rest in a cell didn't mean she needed too.” Dawn, the next morning. . . . Talia opened her eyes, satisfied with her nights rest, refreshed and rejuvenated. She'd had the room all to herself, and only the glow of red over the horizon said it was anywhere near morning. The innkeep was still in bed when she reached the tavern floor, but barmaids were about cleaning up the previous nights mess. She ordered a hearty breakfast, and bathwater to be brought up to her room. The sun was nearly at the tip of the horizon as she finished putting on the last piece of her armor, and her first order of business was to ensure the Blackguards were preparing their escape. She sighed happily as the magic flowed through her again, masking her from view, pleased with the euphoria her casting always brought her. Talia made her way outside, quickly heading to the wall and scaling it's steps. At first, she couldn't make out the Blackguards, but soon she found them, and curiously enough speaking with an Elf. She couldn't remember the woman's name, but vaguely recalled that the horde ambassador in Kessig was an elf of some kind. Their conversation seemed to end, and Talia quickly descended the steps. She couldn’t take too long, but a little bit of prying never hurt much. That was the Watch's job after all. She waited invisible at the gate for the elf to arrive, and as the ambassador returned through the gate, she began trailing behind, careful to avoid the beginning of the early morning townsfolk's routines. Talia was only partially surprised when the elf entered the Watch Office, as it made sense for her to visit with the Draenei. What also surprised her was the presence of the Lieutenant. He looked somewhat disheveled, probably from the lack of sleep that he'd gotten and he held a hand up to stop the Elf, pausing whatever conversation he'd been having with his guardsmen. “You're here early, Miss Skyshard.” “I am here to see your 'prisoners,' Lieutenant.” “Hmph. Right. I'll need to run that by the Captain first and. . . .” “Aeryn already knows, Lieutenant. Feel free to inform her I'm here.” Talia smiled as the Lieutenant scowled back why the Elf began heading towards the cells, clearly put in his place. She began to follow after the woman, but stopped for a moment as the Lieutenant turned back towards his guardsmen. “Just make sure they're riled up, alright? Say these bastards are vampires, I don't care. Just get everyone in a fury.” The other guards nodded to the lieutenant as he stalked away to the Captain's office, and Talia quickly went to catch up to the ambassador as she headed for the cells. As she reached the bottom, still invisible and tailing the ambassador, another guard was already there, sliding food to the prisoners. It seemed that they were all still asleep, but with the wake up call it did not last very long. Namyra jumped up as soon as she noticed the elf, and Talia quickly slunk by the two to the other end of the cell, thankful the guards had replaced the torches some time this morning. She poked Theomund in the back of the head to let the Captain know she was there, and he merely titled his head to the side. Quietly, she sat herself against one of the stone walls of the cold prison, trying to adjust her armor into a more comfortable position. The voices of the Draenei and the elf seemed to rouse the blackguard Captain from his sleep, but there was no freeing them while the ambassador was there. She couldn't help but grin as Volnte mouthed the word 'perfect' to himself, unaware that anyone was watching him. "I've woken up in some shitty places and seen some shitty faces doing it. but waking up to you two lovelies are about the worst. Also, good morning." Talia had to keep herself from laughing, but resolved to keep quiet while this played out. She expected she was in for a good show. Her Captain sighed, seemingly unsurprised that the blackguard captain had likely been woken by the horde ambassador speaking with the Draenei exarch. " I don't see what's good about it, but if we're the worst, you've not been as adventurous as your reputation would imply, Captain Volnte." Volnte laughed, "My work is an adventure. My bedroom life is not, sadly. Not a big pool to choose from. Most of the women I meet in my profession are pretty well on their way to their second death." Theomund did not share such mirth, and simply nodded in return. He was after information, not companionship, though Mance's mouth did turn up at the sides, even if his eye's remained closed. " Yet here you are, collaborating with a Draenei exarch in the middle of a town full of savages and peasants. Your presence here has been noted, and it's far from ordinary. Makes a man wonder what a captain of the blackguard is up too, all this way south." "Well, that's really none of your concern. Since your information on me and my order is so good, you know what it is that we do. You would also know that we do not deviate from that cause... except in the case of barroom brawls apparently. I'd wager that we are here as a layover on our way to the same thing." "Mayhaps. . . but I don't see why they'd send a Captain to scout." Theomund gave him a smile that wasn't friendly in the least. " But, it is my concern, more then you know. You're a reasonable man, yes? And we aren't going anywhere for a while. Answer my questions, and you can come with us when we leave." Talia couldn’t help but shake his head at his poor choice of words. Theomund was a Captain himself, and that was exactly what he was doing. Even if he wasn't quite as high on the chain of command as this Volnte "I am a reasonable man. I am a friendly man. But I am also a military commander on military business. As for why Lord Blackguard chose to send his second, that is none of your concern. If you would like to pursue a different path of conversation, that would be best. Otherwise I'm afraid you're in for a very long and rather one-sided conversation." " Then I'm afraid you're in for a very long and unpleasant stay. You see my job, Captain Volnte, is information. As I'm sure you're starting to realize, we've quite a bit of it. My people are very good at gathering that information. As you are probably aware, the man you nearly killed - and hopefully did not - was the town blacksmith. In most circumstances, that would be uneventful. Except his brother so happens to be the lieutenant that arrested us. So, while the Captain is quite an honorable woman, her subordinates are much more. . . questionable. While her intentions may be the best, the lieutenant will no doubt put quite the pressure on her. At worst, you're facing the noose to appease the locals. At best, you're facing an angry mob and the towns gates sealed off by half the guard...." Theomund trailed off, hoping the blackguard captain would take the bait. "I'm afraid you are talking to the wrong type of man with those words, friend. I am not easy to intimidate. As for the assault of the blacksmith, that was unfortunate. But he is very much alive. Were he to have died, they would cry out for me to be strung up from the rafters of some filthy barn. But he is not and so the hangman will be denied this pound of flesh and you your information. I will ask once again that you change the subject. I can dance this dance all day." " If you remain in this cell until judgment is passed, you may still find yourself in the rafters, 'friend,'" Theomund said, with a harrumph and a frown. Next to him, the other ranger let out a single laugh. " You'd best just tell 'im want he wants lad. He'd argue a mountain out of his way if it wasn't faster ta go 'round it. Ha!" Theomund looked over at his companion who still had his eye closed, and his scowl was lost on the man, and the ranger continued. " O' course, maybe ya could quit beatin' 'round the bush Theo." The ranger captain crossed his arms and tapped his foot, clearly displeased. " That's enough Mance." " Aye, cap'n." " As it were, Voltne. There were three of us in the bar. There are two of us in the jail cell. As I'm certain you can do math, when my scout comes to free us, you can either remain here and plan your own escape, or you can leave with us. If you were not listening to the ambassador, your men are waiting outside the city with your belongings. No doubt the guards have orders not to let them back in. So when the lieutenant comes - and he will come - nothing stands between you and the noose." Theomund looked over his shoulder towards the other cell, and the two women within it. " And them as well, it would seem. So, for your own safety, and that of the Draenei and Muertian, I would find it most enthralling if you'd share your purpose with me. . . . " An intentional cough from Mance had the ranger captain scowling at his companion again, and with a sigh he added, " . . . .and perhaps an exchange of some of my own knowledge." It was clear the words were painful to the man, and Talia put her hands in her head. It was very clear that this line of questioning wasn't going to get Theomund anywhere with the blackguard captain, and yet still the stubborn man continued. At least he hadn't blatantly insulted him yet. Even if her captain was resorting to sideways threats. "I don't think you were listening, friend. This type of talk does not intimidate me. I will not hang for an assault." Abram sat up a bit, a sarcastic smirk on his face. "And of course when your scout swoops in to carry you away, the guards will let you breeze past with a tip of the hat and a polite "Sorry for the mishap sir, won't happen again!" and you will be on your merry way." Abram's face became serious as he slumped back down. " Your biggest mistake is that you assume too much. You assume that you have information I want to know. You assume that the captain of this place will be so easily swayed. She too must know the relationship between the Blacksmith and her Lieutenant and will know that he is out for blood. If she allows him to undermine her authority she will have lost her command. So no, I will not hang and I will not tell you my purpose here." " And I don't think you were listening, I - " " Oh give it a rest would ya?" Mance interrupted, stretching his arms and opening his eyes. The rangers captain was clearly frustrated, but Mance seemed to know as well as Talia his appointed leaders methods wouldn't work. This was the reason they let Talia do most of the information gathering. " Look, ya overestamatin' the Captain 'ere. We're both 'ere for the same reason, one way or 'nother. Towns goin' quiet all over Kessig. It all comes back 'round in the end lad. The townsfolk 'r scared. More n' o' their friends go missin'. And now we lot show up and put a god twenty o' 'em in the infirmary. It's the breakin' point. I've seen it before. There'll be a full blown riot soon o'nough. Jus' tell ma' Captain what he wants to know, and we'll tell ya what's happenin' to the towns. Or better yet, show ya." The ranger put his hands behind his head, and leaned back against the cell wall, crossing his feet. " We're gonna need to go together anyway once we get out . They're sure to send a group or four after us, and I'm tired o' listenin' to you two lads yammer on anyway." Volnte sighed., clearly warmer to Mance then he was to Theomund "Mance, I like you. You remind me of my Sergeant. But you know how this job works. I am a military commander. I can't just give up secrets. But I will tell you that the towns going dark have piqued the interests of my superior. That will have to be answer enough." " Ha! your sergeant must be fine man then, lad. And if the secrets are to come from anyone, better it be you. Don't think of it as giving them away. Think of it as a trade. We'll even go first if ya wish." Theomund's scowl returned, and he tapped his foot, glaring at his companion. " Mance. . . ." " Don't ya give me that look lad. We don't have all day to sit here and badger the boy." “I've told you all I can about my mission. The disappearances of the villages on the outskirts of this land have interested my superior. That's why we are here. If you have any information that could help us, just tell me. It's obvious we have the same goal. If not the same way of going about it.” “ Well then boy, I'll take that as a good of a 'yes' as we're like to get right now,” Mance said, grinning. Talia knew they wouldn't take no for an answer, and shivered at the thoughts of the last time it had went that far. Her Captain meant well, but he could be as ruthless as some of the men they hunted. Or other creatures. It was unlikely the blackguard captain was up to anything else besides investigation, even with the other Muertian here. She was a bit more intrigued by the Draenei herself, but as man had said the night before, it was Theomund's no-tolerance, paranoid reputation that had him placed in charge. They couldn't afford to miss anything while they were here, and neither could any of the other scouts. “ Talia, you can get us out of these cells now. There's the first thing we have that you want Volnte. Freedom.” She pushed herself to her feet, stretching her legs a bit and walking over to the cell while Mance gave Theomund a puzzled glance. She waited a moment to let the doubt sow among the others, watching as Theomund's face slowly crept towards a scowl. Just before it seemed he was going to go into another rage, she let the invisibility fall away, feeling a bit empty after holding the magic for so long. Her chipper mood soured a bit with the departure of the euphoria she felt from the magic, and she frowned at her Captain. Talia had to admit to herself that even after their time together, she still hated the way Theomund treated others. “ You're absolutely horrible at negotiating, you know that?” “ The lock, Talia.” “ Ladies first captain.” Leaving Theomund with a scowl and Mance with a laugh, she headed over to the woman's cell, her hand turning red as she walked, the euphoria of magic returning for a moment as her hand grew extremely hot, sending steam rising from the air in the damp prison. Her yellow eyes shimmered as she channeled, and by the time she reached the cell, her hand was beginning to warm the chill air in the cell. “ Namyra, Yuki, I'm afraid you won't be waiting for Lady Skyshard to secure our releases. The Lieutenant intends to drive the civilians into an uproar, and I don't believe any of us care to stick around for the riot.” She rose her voice a bit, so the men could hear her as well, speaking as she raised her hand to the lock on the first cell. “ As Lady Skyshard mentioned, Captain Volnte's men are waiting outside the city. Specifically, they're awaiting us, with provisions and mounts for all.” Talia grew quiet for a moment as her hand touched the metal lock, the iron giving way beneath the intense heat. It quickly turned orange, then began melting down the bars of the cell door, completely detaching the lock and letting the door swing free. Talia opened the door the rest of the way with her other hand on one of the cool bars of the cell door, motioning extravagantly to the outside of the cell. “ Watch your step, the metal is still hot.” “You're going to get in trouble, that lock looked expensive.” Talia laughed at the Draenei's response, leaving them be and heading over to the men's cell, beginning to repeat of the process. “ Well, they could throw me in jail I suppose. Though I don't expect that would work too well.” She stepped back as the metal on the second door melted, not bothering to invite the men out as Theomund pushed it open himself and stepped over the molten metal. Frowning and stepping away, Talia continued her briefing. “ Your equipment is in the lock up, atop the secondary stairs and two doors down. After that, we're going to sneak out one of the back doors into the garden, around the road, up one of the tree paths, then down the other side and climb down the wall. I'd recommend you stay close and out of sight.” She addressed Volnte personally as he stepped out of the cell. “ And I'd expect your men wouldn't be very pleased if you didn't make it out of the city,” she said with a smile, then turned back to lead them up the stairs she'd come down. Things would have been better if she could've made them all invisible at once, but she wasn't as skilled in manipulating other people as she was herself. “ Wait here until I come back with the all clear.” Quickly, Talia headed back up the steps, taking them two at a time until she reached the top. She headed through the arch of the stairs and reached her hand around the corner, laying it on the shoulder of the guard keeping watch on the entrance. He began turning his head, but as she sent the magic coursing through her hand, the guard fell asleep, slumping to the ground, his head resting against the wall he'd been standing against. Putting someone to sleep was much easier then making someone invisible, but even still she could only do it to one person at a time. Fortunately, she didn't have to maintain the magic to keep him asleep. His body would rest naturally for a few hours at least, or until someone shook him. Making sure no one had seen or was waiting in the hall, she quickly headed back down the steps to the room. “ Hallway's clear. Everyone move quickly and stay behind me.” She eyed the Draenei for a moment, who seemed to be giving her a dirty look, and merely shrugged in response. Talia got the feeling Namyra might have words for her later, but right now they were escaping from jail. Theomund had begun moving as soon as she'd reached the stairs, clearly impatient to leave, and with a sigh she headed back up the stairs to the hallway. It was still clear when they reached it, and she made her way quietly to the second door on the right, trying it carefully. It was still locked, but that didn't stop her at all as she laid her hand on the door, waiting for a soft click. Unlike the cell doors, wooden ones were easier to unlock with magic, and she pushed the door open, ushering everyone inside. “ Get your things, ready, then wait inside for me to come back again. I need to make sure the path is clear.” She waited until everyone was inside the lock up, then closed the door back behind them. Without wasting any time, she let the magic course through her again, sighing in relief at the euphoria returning to her. She knew she couldn't hold onto the magic for too long or it would kill her, but sometimes she truly hated having to release it. As she grew transparent once more, Talia headed out of the hallway and towards the back entrance, looking for the clearest path to the exit. There were bound to be a few guards along the way, but if luck was on her side, they wouldn't be a problem. |
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