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Post by Cherub on Apr 14, 2008 16:54:22 GMT -5
"DAMN HER!" She screamed, twisting against the guards who amazingly didn't release her when she screamed at them to. Heads turned, but none really wanted to interfere with the guards dragging away the girl.
The first thing they did was take away her daggers.
Lord had to agree with the queen, that his bonded deserved it in every way, sticking her maw where it wasn't supposed to be, but he could at least feel a tad bit sorry for her, as their minds were linked and he'd have to hear her whining about being enclosed for a large period of time.
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Post by FewRevelations on Apr 14, 2008 22:32:54 GMT -5
Aven felt only the slightest twinge of regret as she gently heeled Baldwin in the sides, the mare taking off at a gallop. Omen had told Kyo not too much of a delay, and she intended to stick to her word. She hadn't really ever liked Relle, in any case. Merchants and boys running about the city on errands had to leap out of the queen's way to avoid being trampled, most not recognizing Aven for who she was in the faint glimpse they caught of her and cursing her and her horse harshly long after the last wisps of Baldwin's ebony tail had dissapeared around a corner. Had they known who it was they cursed, they might have toned down their language, if only slightly. But finally, the clatter of the cobblestones was replaced by the thud of hard-packed dirt. The gleaming, freshly plastered white three story manors and inns with signs and doormen and stableyards of the upper city were replaced by the wooden, dingy, run-down buildings that were a characterization of Arymilia's slums. The nobles in bright embroidered silks and linens riding horses or hidden within the shade of sedan chairs casually at a slow pace and lazily shoving their way through slightly crowded streets were replaced by people stumbling half-heartedly down the streets with dirt smeared on their cheeks and in wool clothing that probably hadn't seen a washboard in months. And then the gate out of the city was in view. Where was Kyo?
"Thought you could get away from us again, did ye?" asked one dim, burly shape in a thick Arymillan accent. "We know what you've done to our virgin queen! Well, your days of corrupting our country with your 'Dark Lord's' ways are over!" The purple haired demon stirred upon the rough surface he was not familiar with. Where was he? What had happened? His dark blue, fine wool coat that had reached almost his knees and buttoned with silver buttons gone, as was his white silk shirt with a small amount of lace at the cuffs of the sleeves. At least he still had his breeches. He struggled to sit up, his head throbbing and his ears ringing. "Who --" he managed to splutter, blinking slowly, before a sharp, splitting pain hit the back of his head. And then there was only blackness.
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Post by FewRevelations on Apr 23, 2008 21:54:37 GMT -5
His eyes opened almost immediately. Why does my head feel so fuzzy? he thought to himself. Just thinking felt like wading through waist-high mud. And the pain! Oh, Great Mother Goddess, the pain! The light was no help, at that. He squeezed his eyes shut. Slowly, he tried to remember what had happened. But nothing came to him. Could he even remember his own name? No. Nothing. He opened his eyes again, more slowly this time, and sat up. He noticed that his arms were covered in tiny bumps. Gooseflesh. He was cold. He was bare-chested. What was going on? He leaned his head forward and almost jumped as he noticed something startling. His hair was a rather bright shade of violet! Who had violet hair? "So, you're finally awake, are ye, my lord?" came a rasping voice from behind him. He whipped around and saw a stocky man standing on the other side of several thick iron bars. He was in a cage? "My lord?" he asked in confusion. "Is my name Lord?" The newcomer blinked in confusion for a moment before laughing heartily. "No, that would be the name of the rodent who told us all about what ye've done," he chuckled. "Tell me, do ye remember anything?" He thought for a moment. A very short moment. "No," he said glumly. "Nothing. What is my name? Why am I in this cage?" The other man laughed again. "Yer name be Damodred," he told the purple-haired boy. "Yer in that cage b'cause ye be a dangerous criminal! Ye tried to kill me when they brought ye in! But ye be here to undergo... behavioral correctment, I think they said." That last was rather matter-of-fact. Damodred smiled. He knew his name now, and that was all he needed to be happy. "What is your name?" he asked the other man. He just grinned. "My name be of no importance. Just call me Sir." "Yes, Sir," Damodred replied. "Good. Now, come on out of yer cage. Ye've got work to do." Sir unlocked the door of the cage and swung it open slowly. Damodred stood obediently and walked out, still smiling. He was eager to find out what behavioral correctment was. And what a dangerous criminal was. This work sounded like fun. He could almost forget the splitting pain in his head. This wasn't so bad! A small voice inside of him screamed to be heard, telling him to run. But why listen to it? This Sir seemed nice enough...
Damodred fell upon the thin cot in the corner of his cage heavily. The sun was only a slim line of golden fire on the horizon, and he watched it dissapear and the stars come out twinkling. They certainly were beautiful. When he had left his cage, the sun had been just rising. He had worked that whole time. Working, as it turned out, wasn't very much fun after all. His muscles ached from the strenuous activities he had been forced to perform, usually splitting sheets of rock or marble to make usable chunks for sculpting. All he wanted to do now was sleep. His mind complied, and his eyelids fell shut obediantly.
"Kyo?" came the voice of a woman. "Kyo? Where are you?" She was beautiful! Her skin a milky white such as he couldn't remember seeing. Her raven-colored hair was left loose to fall down to her waist, save for a circlet of silver that rested upon the crown of her head. She wore a long, white silk dress with black ribbons fluttering off of it in several places, the slim bodice tied tight in the front rather than having tiny buttons up the back. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green that seemed to shine with their own light. And on her back rested two large, white and black wings that hung still. He didn't know who she was, but he knew he loved her. And she loved him. "Kyo? Why haven't you come? We had a plan!" He knew she was talking to him, even though he had never heard the name she used before. Or at least couldn't remember hearing it. He wanted to apologize. He could see she was very, very sad, but he didn't understand why. And she was afraid, too. Afraid of what would happen if he didn't find her. He had to find her! But even as he watched, her image grew foggy and muddled, her beautiful, musical voice fuzzy. She slowly faded into nothingness. He could no longer remember her, or why he had felt so desperate. But he knew he had to get out.
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Post by revolution on May 7, 2008 17:51:45 GMT -5
"Gods above! Is that what I think it is?" Rea sped her pace, trodding over the mud-choked and rain-battered gravel at her feet, which produced an awful crunching sound that rather reminded Boromary of the sobbing sound that Ward had produced as he died. The sound so chilled him that he paused and looked over his shoulder, just to make sure that the foul effigy hadn't reappeared behind them, back yet again from the dead. Rea scrambled up the side of the steel-and-wood cart, dashing forward and gripping the heavy controls of the cart in her hands. "Yes! It's a Twelve! A Remery-fricking-Twelve!" She scoffed, glancing over her shoulder at Sonaria. "You said, 'Semi-automatic', you liar. I've always wanted to use one of these. They're simply amazing when they're going." She then proceeded to fiddle with the gears, switching the dashboard Fairylights on and off in a fit of obsessive-compulsive rage.
"Christ, footmen. Where the hell do they go when you finally need them?" Snapped Sonaria, brushing past Suga and Dmitri, teeth bared. "I told them to stay with the fucking cart! Gods, they're probably off at a bar somewhere." She drew a heavy Charge-key from her 'purse' (which rather resembled a saddlebag, but she refused to call it otherwise) and threw it to Rea, who dove to catch it before the glass vial of Ether bolted to it's side shattered on the rough wooden floor of the vehicle.
Boromary turned about, rather embarrassed that everything that spouted from Rea's mouth ("It's a twenty-four-thousand Rickshaw drive... It pulls energy clean out of the air! You never need to oil it!") flew clean over his head. It was upon looking down that he spotted the rope. It was crafted out of a curious-looking material; even though it was choked with mud, he could see a faint hue of silver to it, as though it had been crafted out of unicorn hair. ("Load of shit, those unicorns," Crue had said, in his days before the press and the needle, "They don't exist, no matter what everyone says.") He himself, though, had met a unicorn, not to mention it's Bonded, though he truly had to ask himself what had become of that pair. Reaching down, he plucked the rope from the earth, looking at it curiously. Running a second hand down it's length, he let the end fall and began to pull the rope towards himself, lifting it out of the mud. At one point, it caught against a tree, and he looked at the knot where it had stuck with a glint of a question in his eye. ("Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back," said his uncle, ever the wise old madman.)
He gave the rope a tug, and then came a sickly snapping sound, like a bone breaking. A dribble of dark liquid struck him squarely on the nose, and he wiped it away with a second's hesitation. The rope itself didn't move, but before he could give it a second tug, it was wrenched from his hands by a sudden downward force. A massive shape plummeted from the tree, bouncing horribly up and down. Even in the shadows, he could see the red stain the residue had left on his hand.
Even in the shadows, he could see the outline of bodies pressed against the proud flag of Fergai, the length of silver line punching back and forth through it's amber face. The blood was bright against the cloth, but in a single sick second, he considered the fact that it would probably darken in hue much, much later on.
And then, all at once, he realised exactly what he was seeing, and reeled backwards, mouth open in a horrified gape.
"Hello, love." Said Shaiera, stepping from the shadows behind the swinging mass with her bladed Lead-flute drawn. She bore down on him, lips drawn back from her teeth. "Good seeing you again. You know my cousin, do you not?"
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Post by FewRevelations on Jun 10, 2008 16:37:57 GMT -5
Eamon looked up through bleary eyes, sighing in relief. She used the purple sleeve of her gown to wipe damp tear streaks from her face, leaving wet darkened splotches in the silk. {No use crying over a lost catch,} Tallanvor told her gently, using a saying Eamon had often used herself, in the past, when telling new crewmembers not to fret over loosing a fish to the sea. {Oh, be quiet you old fool,} she spat bitterly. Tallanvor's eyes widened in shock at the windfinder's hurtful words. {Who would you be calling old, you coot?} The moment he thought the words, the pelican instantly regretted them. His bonded could be very touchy, and this was no time for insults. Eamon narrowed her eyes at him and turned away, back to the sight before them. Rising out of the snow-covered earth was a huge stone wall, at least twenty feet tall at its lowest points. Around the edges of the wall, the earliest spring wildflowers poked their heads out of the thinning layer of ice and snow. The hard-packed dirt road led straight to a huge arch, the iron gates that rested inside flung open. Four guards in palace livery and burnished steel armor stood outside, leaning against the wall and talking. Even from so far away, their raucous laughter could be heard. A small trickle of people passed through the gate, most on foot with the occasional noble on horseback, out for a ride through the countryside. There was even a merchant's wagon train or two. "Armylia," whispered Ishara from beside Eamon. "At last." Moksha began to descend the hill they were upon then, heading straight for the gate. Eamon heeled her bay gelding after her.
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Post by Cherub on Jun 17, 2008 20:38:25 GMT -5
Margot grinned from ear to ear, happy to be back in the city, if it was where her parents were and where she'd been disgraced and tossed out of nobility.... {We're not going to talk about that} She told Bells, picking up the cockier spaniel from her lap and hugging it thoroughly. "Oh Hush," She said aloud when her familiar strained to get away from the crushing embrace. {Why? You shouldn't be so happy to return to a place where you're so /POOR/} The dog's disdain for the word was clear in the girls head and she dipped her chin in defeat. {I guess you're right, and it's not like I'm even part of this group anyhow.} She sighed, but then knocked her dog over the head and pushed her away. She almost thought of tossing her onto the street under the packhorse's hooves, but she resisted. {Pox on you, making me feel bad, You're such a rude canine. Why, if you weren't connected to me mentally, I'd have half a mind to beat you with a broom} {You wouldn't dare} The pooch challenged, but Margot stopped her horse, tossed the spaniel down, and the promptly began to follow closer to Ishara and Eamon. "Will one of you please tell me what you intend to do?" She asked, trying not to sound like her normal bratty self. "If you want, you could stay the night with my family, mother would be happy to entertain and then we could plan or something? If your familiar is right, then the other groups should be here, and we could get in contact? Maybe not with the bad guys.... well, I don't know." She smiled, probably the first time she'd ever smiled at the group, "But please accept the hospitality?"
Meanwhile, Relle was getting absolutely no hospitality from the men guarding her, mostly the just made terribly rude and obscene comments while she yelled at them. All of it was along the lines of 'Why can't it be grouped with the others?' Then the other would guffaw and reply, to complete the taunt, 'it's no girl, it's even trussed up in men's clothing.' Then they'd laugh and comment on her curses as she continued. "So Help You if my stupid patron gets down here in some time before I rot, he'll let me out of here and I'll come after you and your whore of a queen and then your families after that! YOU HAVE NO IDEA! I AM NEVER HELPING ANYONE AGAIN! YOUR STUPID WORLD CAN FALL TO DARKNESS!" She then began to kick everything, hurting herself and her ferret, who fell underfoot as she screamed. "Oh look, it's raving." Called one of the guards to someone further down the hall. They both laughed and continued on. -Calm down dear, I'm here, but I'm not letting you out just yet, I want to see how everything goes- Kiproyn taunted, sitting down on the boards that where to be Relle's bed tonight. -And I'm almost sure you'll go mucking things up, besides, you deserve it, even I know not to mess with hormonal women. So I'm going to let you chill out for a bit dear, and then -- "Forget about keeping me here, I will NOT allow it." -Are you denying your god?- He asked, cocking his mischievous but godly head and chuckling at her audacity. "Of course I am, get my but out of here and I promise that I will not do anything at all in the way of tilting balances for like... a day or two. Promise." Relle was all but begging on her knees now, but the thief god only laughed again and ruffled her hair. -Trust a thief's promise? I don't think so darling,- "Oh, let me out you damned god, or I'll... I'll sick my ferret on you!- The threatened emptily, and the god's out and loud laughs reverberated in her head as he disappeared.
-Avendhora Opalby, even though she deserved it, you shouldn't go about imprisoning your allies.- Said the God of Thieves, reappearing before the queen of Myrari in his most ominous of forms as Aven rode forward. -I'd be spread thin if I came and defended all of my thieves, but she's particularly fun to deal with, so I'll do this for her. She was really trying to help, in her own little way, you should know. But I'm almost certain you just want to move along, so let's make our conversation brief.-
OOC: Well.. that's the best you get tonight.
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Post by FewRevelations on Jun 24, 2008 15:40:27 GMT -5
Ishara looked at Margot out of the corner of her eyes. "But couldn't we stay with the queen?" she asked, a little confused. With the merchant-girl's obsession with being a noble, the nymph would have thought staying at the glorious castle that loomed over the city Margot's first choice of lodging when traveling. Eamon chuckled slightly, shaking her head at Ishara's ignorance condescendingly. "Do you really believe the palace guards would even let us through the gate?" she laughed hoarsly as they passed under the stone arch that marked the southern entrance to the slums. "Look at us! The widow of a fisherman, a merchant's daughter, and a nymph who has no standing in society, and probably never has. Not to mention, we're all travel-weary, and not exactly wearing our feast-day best. It would probably be best if we visited Margot's abode." Ishara's fiery gaze turned on Eamon for a moment, her pale skin beginning to turn the cherry red of an open flame before she shoved her anger down deep. {There's no way she could know, right?} the nymph asked Moksha nervously. {Absolutely no way,} the tiger agreed firmly. {You haven't mentioned a word of your past since you met them. In fact, the only reason I know anything about it is because we share minds!} Ishara nodded assertively, refraining from letting the relief swelling inside of her paint her face. "What do you think, Asha?" the nymph asked. The naga had been quiet most of the way back to the capitol, making her strangely unsettled. "Should we try to get into the palace, or accept Margot's... 'hospitality?'"
Aven had been sitting upon Baldwin's saddle for countless hours, her rump and leg muscles endlessly saddle-sore. She had dozed for a few hours, Omen sitting upon the saddle's pommel and watching intently with her golden eyes, prepared to warn her bonded of either Kyo's arrival or some sort of trouble. The three beings -- fairy, owl, horse -- made a white and black mass that easily blended into the cracked plaster walls that outlined the alley of the Undercity they had taken refuge in, within sight of the East Gate of Armylia, a small and little-used gate compared to the others. The sun had set and risen again long ago, but even the owl's sharp eyes couldn't catch a glimpse of the purple-haired male they sought in the throng of people who passed through the gate. Suddenly, a terrifying creature stood before her, human, in rags and with the looks of a thief or cutpurse about him, and yet somehow otherworldly in his presence. "Kyproin!" the queen gasped, instantly knowing the god for who he was. Baldwin, startled, danced back a few steps, forcing Aven to heel the mare forward again. She worked at masking her surprise and fear again as he spoke, his voice painful to hear from the power it seemed to carry. His short speech over, she withheld a sigh of relief. "I apologize for acting so brashly. However, what I am currently trying to do puts the fate of this entire country on my shoulders, and as I am sure you know, Myrari is one of the few countries that is graced with worshipping the true gods, the only gods made by the Creators. If Myrari were to be destroyed, a large number of your followers would go with it. I am sure you see why I could not take the time to come up with an alternative to jailing Sararelle." She smiled, hoping it hid her nervousness.
"Get up, you lout!" Damodred rolled over on his rock-hard cot, grumbling. The sun had risen again, long ago it seemed. Tired as he had been the night before, what little sleep he had managed to get had been tormented by dreams, most of the beautiful girl in the white dress, though none as vivid as that first dream. Strong hands suddenly gripped his arms near the shoulder, lifting him up out of the bed and setting him roughly on his feet, giving him a shove toward the door of the cage. "Wait, can't I sleep just a while longer?" he complained. His head felt fuzzy, as though there was something being blocked out. Thought was difficult, but not impossible, though, so he ignored the feeling of sifting through sand to think. "No, the master says Damodred is to test his skills at swordsplay today!" said the voice from before, this time behind him. He groaned as he was shoved out of the cool, shaded stone hut where he had been sleeping, and into the hot, sunny dirt yard, the large square of golden sand and tan dust surrounded by a ten-foot grey stone wall. A heavy, steel bar of some sort wrapped in leather was thrust into his hand, another leather-wrapped bar crossing it just above his hand to make a "T." Jutting from the end that was pointed away from him was a long steel blade, this left bare. It was sharp enough on both flattened ends, as well as the point at the end, to cut his fingers when he ran the tips along the edge in curiosity. He frowned and looked at the dark red liquid dripping from his fingers, confused. He held up his hand for the men behind him to see, asking "What's this stuff?" One of the men cursed, and another snickered. The third shook his head as he dabbed a cloth on his fingers to wipe away the redness. It stung to touch his fingers, now, and Damodred hissed slightly. "That be blood," the third man told him. "It's inside of all of us right now, and that's where we want it to stay, alright?" Damodred nodded. He hadn't really enjoyed the sensation of making the... blood... appear, in any case. The man backed away to stand against the wall with his companions again. The purple-haired boy watched him go, smiling. Suddenly, there was a grunt behind him. Whirling, he saw another strange sharp-T-thing raised over a burly man's head, about to descend upon Damodred's own scalp. Without thinking, he raised his own blade, just in time to bring the descending death-trap to a halt inches from his forehead. Not knowing where the skill came from exactly, Damodred and the man began move gracefully around the courtyard. Dancing the blades, some voice inside told him, and he knew it was true as he flowed between the forms of "dancing the blades." It was rather like dancing. He easily knocked away the enemy pointy-stick, headed for the arm that held his own pointy-stick. Sword, the voice again spoke. And he knew it was true, for no other word could define the the clangs as the two blades swooped and arced to crash into each other, sunlight glinting of the gleaming metal. And then the fight was over, his opponent's sword flying across the courtyard, and Damodred's swordpoint pressing into the man's neck gently. The spectators cheered. The purple-haired boy had not even broken a sweat.
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Post by Cherub on Jun 28, 2008 11:55:52 GMT -5
Asha shrugged, he had no need or want to get between the three women; and he was getting rather hungry. Whatever moved it along, he guessed, and replied. "Eamon's right, they wouldn't let our group into the grounds, let alone give us brilliant accommodations. We might as well stay with Margot's family," He looked over at the girl he was speaking of, and she was chewing on her lip, trying not to cry. "It's really not that bad that you have to get angry over it." She whimpered, "I mean, the little ones can give you their private rooms; and the bathhouse on the street is really quite nice. My mother's help can really cook a good meal. There's no need to yell about it." She worked her hands over the reigns, and focused on them so not to fully start crying. She'd known Ishara didn't like her, but did she hate her enough to get that angry about it towards Eamon? "But I guess, if you want, we could stay at an inn." She added.
"Didn't I tell you I wasn't here to chastise you about it?" The god asked, "If I didn't, then I guess I should tell you know, correct? Well, I'm not here to chastise you. But I will get a smidge angry if you keeping her in there lasts for too long. But then again, you're looking for something that's been stolen from you? That's the way the other tricksters and thieves tell it. " He chuckled, "It's quite a trick, the one that's been pulled on you."
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