| Kiira’Tiru II; The tower's tricks | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 2 2007, 10:12 PM (3,165 Views) | |
| eocine | Jan 18 2007, 10:01 PM Post #101 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Hmm?” The Drow looked up at Skafloc, roused from one of her internal discussions as to how it would be best to proceed from this point onwards, and what she should pray to Lolth for in terms of spells. She needed a balance of obviously useful spells for the group as a whole, and of course spells that could be used for escape were everything to go sour. A possibility that it would be decidedly unwise to ignore as best she could tell… Anaara had been taking her time to answer the barbarians’ questions, using the excuse of taking a sip from her glass to cover the time for her to formulate a proper answer, when Fade’s voice cut off any potential reply. The Drow almost smiled at the interjection of the Fey’ri, but managed to quell it easily, unwilling to show such expression for the time being, finding that there was often more power to be gained by not showing what you were feeling. She watched carefully at her impassioned and somewhat drunkenly rambled defense of her, and could well enough guess what kind of card would need to be played next to follow up this more or less picture perfect ‘outro’ to the questions of the barbarian. “It is for exactly that reason”, she stated, referring to the issue of safety, “and that of course is the reason I felt I needed to barter for my Raise Dead spell in exchange for your promise to escort me to one of the entrances to the Underdark.” “Still”, she looked up at the massive barbarian, allowing her gaze to linger on his massively muscular form for a moment, “you will find that I am not without resource when it is needed, and that is especially true in my the dominion of my homeland.” |
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| eocine | Jan 18 2007, 10:27 PM Post #102 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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For Karosin the choice of what to wear had been rather easier, simplicity was more or less what he did on occasions such as these, simplicity and familiarity, and as such it was a black shirt, and black trousers as well as of course a pair of black boots. One of his daggers went into the wrist holster up his sleeve, another into his left hand boot and he felt that he was more or less dressed. As he pulled on his belt he watched amused as the magical assistants lowered the chiton over her head, and it seemed for just a moment that there was a ghost in the room before it was fully on. Whilst the creature was dealing with her hair he quietly snipped away some excess length from his fingernails. He couldn’t ever allow them to grow too long, for his work involved poison use, and there was never any sense risking some becoming gathered up underneath your own nails and later touching your eyes, or food, or even scratching yourself. He looked up from this self preservation when she spoke again, and lay the scissors down on the dressing table. He had been about to start braiding his hair when she had interjected, it was of course a task he could have done easily with his preternatural dexterity, but for some reason that he had never exactly been able to fathom Llana enjoyed doing it, and so he stopped and merely raked a comb through its black strands, combing it away from his face so he could at least see properly. “There is more chance, right this instance, of the reincarnation of Bhaal bursting through that door and then bursting into song than there is of my ever wearing a robe”. He said flatly, for he wasn’t even one that would wear a robe in the mornings. When he got up he got dressed, and after bathing he also immediately dressed, because you could never tell what the next moment would hold, and as such it paid to try to be prepared for anything. “You were saying about the demon-elf?” He asked, guessing more or less what she had been about to say, but wanting to make sure that he was correct. |
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| eocine | Jan 18 2007, 10:55 PM Post #103 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“True enough”, replied Caine, before taking another huge and frankly well deserved drink. In truth where they were he didn’t often get the chance to taste much decent beer, his people weren’t traders, rather they were raiders and hunters, and one of the main problems with such an existence was that you were reliant on what other people chose to carry through your hunting grounds. Which meant that many moons could pass by between shipments of alcohol. It also meant that on occasion they could end up raiding caravans that were transporting the most bizarre objects imaginable. As happened on one distinctly memorable occasion where they raided a string of trade caravans, only to find out that they were shipping a load of barrels of urine, for use in the tanning of leather. Needless to say that shipment simply stayed right where it was… Caine simply shrugged his shoulders at her comment on his using his teeth in battle with the dragon. It was the only way that he knew how to fight, to use the weapons that had been bestowed on him since birth, and it would never occur to him to fight in any other way. He looked down at Fade’s hands, noticing that whilst she didn’t have claws that could rival those he possessed whilst in his hybrid form they were never the less impressive in their own right. Her comment on the gold being dangerous did bring a slight hint of a smile to his face though, “gold is useful for what it buys, but alone it is meaningless”, the smile cam from the fact that, whilst he wasn’t a genius, he knew well enough when someone possessed a level of avarice beyond his own, and it seemed like the Fey’ri did just that, and as such he guessed that she would react to the comment. As he nearly reacted when she thumped him around the head in her enthusiastic attempt to defend the Drow, but he suppressed his urge to react to the threat with far more ease than he would have done had he been in his animal form. |
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| Castamir | Jan 18 2007, 11:52 PM Post #104 |
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Native
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Skafloc turned and listened in silence to Fade's impassioned outburst. His face didn't crack for one second, he didn't smile, but nor did he register any annoyance at her approach. She was clearly drunk. An argument with her would only end one way, and despite his gruff appearance Skafloc actually liked her, so he didn't want to have to knock her out to shut her up. "But this quest is likely to be as dangerous, if not more dangerous than your route home. We may not survive at all." he finally answered after Anaara had also spoken. Skafloc turned away from Fade as he spoke, a sly smile briefly crossing his lips. The worst thing to do to a drunk with an opinion is ignore them.. "The underdark is one place I have never ventured," he mused, "though I suspect I wouldn't survive a visit to a drow city, not without chains. Us bloody humans aren't the only ones capable of cruelty and hatred." He raised his drink and took another draught, "That doesn't mean you won't get my help, if I live. A strange quest, though. Not one I would have expected, but I won't see a brave comrade left to fend for herself. Though you'll excuse me if I don't subject myself to entering your people's territory, I like my freedom." |
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| Darkwind | Jan 19 2007, 01:28 AM Post #105 |
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Native
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"Heh. You remind me of 'Rissa. She can't hold her own in a drinking game either." He didn't even touch the drink, though. His nature made him immune to its effects, but old habits die hard--and as one who depends upon the clarity of his mind for survival, he never drank even when he was alive. Besides, it was too dangerous to others--a drunk barbarian might be able to level a building in a brawl, but a drunk sorcerer could wipe a town off the face of Faerun, if he managed to cast spells in that state. "Well, look at it from my perspective. Just because we found you in distress, doesn't automatically mean you're trustworthy. And being an enemy of our enemies doesn't always make you our friend, as I'm sure Anaara can confirm. Couple that with the fact that up until then I've slain every fey'ri I'd come across for several years after I released them..." He took a moment to brood on the horror he'd unwittingly done, so terrible he had to postpone an eternity in Chaav's heaven. "...and I still think we had the right to distrust you. You, yourself, must have distrusted us for many of the same reasons. So, let me ask you the same question--have we earned your trust, Fade?" The sight of the drunk elf gave him some pause as he witnessed his entry just as he was about to knock on the door which, as he learned from one of the servants, led to Llana's rooms. He shuddered--nothing was quite as pathetic and repulsive as a drunk, and for one of the Tel'Quessir to do something like that to himself... As he dwelled on that, though, his thoughts caught up fully to him and he stepped away from the door. No. I'm not a boy anymore, and she's no Aunty Goldheart... I'll deal with this myself. He looked past the drunk toward the room from which he could hear voices of the others. It's true he wasn't dressed by any stretch of imagination--even among his people, walking around wearing only a wet towel raised some eyebrows--but they probably didn't know that. Besides, he still didn't have any other clothing. He walked into the room, looked around for a chair and took one. When he caught sight of Anaara, his face assumed a pained expression and he looked pointedly away--not because of the outfit, which actually suited her, but at the way she used it to manipulate the males in the room. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 19 2007, 05:09 PM Post #106 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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“Gold is meaningless?” the fey’ri had been listening to Anaara, but Caine’s comment caught her attention. “Mad, I tells you. Mad. Gold gets you anywhere. Everywhere. No closed are doors when you have the cash!” she paused for a moment “No doors are closed, I mean. I think.” She then fished in a pocket, producing a white gold ring set with sapphires that she had smuggled from the hoard to tide herself over. “Look at this. See how it sparkles? Beautiful!” she rolled it back and forth with her fingers, so the light caught every facet, making it glitter expensively, tilting her head first one way, then the other, completely entranced. Then, without thinking, she tucked the trinket into her cleavage – an old habit that she had tried hard to get out of, but sometimes fell back into when she was preoccupied, or indeed, drunk. Fade’s attention was then further diverted by Greg’s aspersions upon her ability to hold her own in the ale house. “Ooh, that sound’s like fightin’talk, whitemeat! I don’t see you with a glass in your hand.” She took another swig of her own “Anyways, I’m not drunk yet. I may be mildly squiffy – that much I will admit - but I’m not drunk: I know this because one; I’m not singing, two; I’m feel no urge to be sick and three; I have all my clothes on.” She paused for a second, this time her annoyance plain. “Earned my trust? Do I care? Fuck it - as far as I know, you’re all just going to hand me over to the aushroi... authirot… people in charge once all this is done. And did I ever say I wanted you to trust me? Hells, I don’t care if you do or if you don’t – no skin off my nose. Not like I’m not used to it. From the start, I said my quarrel wasn’t with you lot – you were the ones sayin’ I was dead if I did bad stuff.” She flung her arm out again, trying to project an air of injured innocence “so I fights by your side and I get taken for a ride by a giant octopussy and take down bad tifelilings and get bashed up by lava elementals and have to make promises with bastard genies AND get munched on by fucking undead dragons… and STILL I’ve gotta prove that I’m not about to murder you all in your beds! But do you expect the same of the fullblood? Gods, no! He’s okay; he’s a nice guy, a good guy, he don’t have no death threat on his head, he doesn’t have to prove his worth…” She turned to seek confirmation from Anaara, but instead caught sight on Avelaer. “And here’s the boy himself…” she stopped short and frowned a little. “Uh…Twinkle? Where’s y’clothes?” |
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| eocine | Jan 19 2007, 05:30 PM Post #107 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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There was the sound of voices from on the stairs, though they weren’t loud enough yet to pick out individual words, but it seemed clear to all gathered that there was, of not an argument, at least a lecture going on somewhere on the landing. What was also clear though was that there were no female voices involved in this disagreement, and as such that immediately disqualified Llana from potential participation in the discussion, and probably the former assassin as well as he was most likely with her, and besides which there would probably have been shouts of rage by now if he were. What that left as the most likely probability was that the Dwarves were heading down the stairs in search of sustenance. The clatter of heavy boots on stone steps stopped before they reached the door, and there was another bout of hushed conversation. Only Fade and Skafloc were able to make out what was being said, and it seemed to them that Nalrid was trying to explain the finer points of eating in a culturally mixed setting. His advice seemed to boil down to trying not to break anything, and to attempt to ensure that they didn’t drink too fast, but his tone suggested perfectly that he had low hopes that this particular enterprise had much chance at all of succeeding. They did manage to present a united front though as they came through the door, standing three abreast, the line up swooping towards the drinks cabinet, as even Nalrid forgot his own advice and got stuck into the beer like a proper Dwarf. They too gathered around the table and looked around eagerly for the food, which was due at any moment. Having spent many years living off of iron rations frankly any kind of fresh meal was something to be both looked forwards to and savored. It was only the fact that they were too busy cradling beer mugs that stopped the trio from banging the table and chanting for food. Nalrid, who had seated himself next to Avelaer found that he was in a bit of a dilemma, as he had ordered his boys to be complementary about the others forms of dress and the like, so as not to ostracize anyone. Unfortunately though he didn't actually have a great deal of experience dealing with non-dwarves himself, and as he'd missed Fade's most recent comment wasn't as up to speed on the situation as he might have been. Aware that he needed to set an example the Dwarf steeled himself. “That’s an interesting…” He looked for a word frantically, “skirt… I’d imagine that they’re quite comfortable in the summer months?” Said the Dwarf in all seriousness |
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| Pamela | Jan 19 2007, 07:16 PM Post #108 |
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Molly
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Llana smiled as Karosin contented himself with brushing back his hair, and laughed warmly at his latest disavowal of robes. “One day I will buy you a kilt, you know,” she teased, never intending to fulfill that threat. She paused, trying to recall her earlier comment, and exclaimed as she succeeded. “Oh! Yes- I’ll talk to her about the problem with Silverymoon’s wards. She’s been through enough without being pulled aside by the guards because they’ve somehow detected her heritage. The Mistmaster will probably have no problem with her presence for the length of time it takes us to gather more assistance to return here. But we’ll see,” she said, shrugging. The invisible servant put a pair of golden studs into her ears, and she passed on any other jewelry besides her rings. She looked down again at the space where her right arm should be, suddenly shy for a moment, then took a deep breath. Tomorrow… She stood up and put her arm in Karosin’s, with one last fond look at the pseudo-home. I will go back to Waterdeep… They passed Kellindel’s open door, but since the newcomer was out of sight, were still blissfully unaware of their latest ally. They heard the voices of the dwarvish trio heading downstairs, and followed them into the dining room where everyone else was gathered. She caught Fade and Nalrid’s remarks to Avelaer, but he was seated, and they had missed his entrance; he was seated across the table, so all the Sunite noticed was his lack of a shirt or tunic. Llana made her own assumption and turning to her husband, remarked, "See, not everyone's afraid of kilts..." “Good afternoon, everyone,” she remarked warmly, beaming at the gathering. She noted the empty bottles with private concern but kept it off her face; everyone had their own way of celebrating and dealing with stress, and they certainly had enough time to sober up before they left. She paused as she registered Caine’s human form, then smiled at him as she went to take a seat on Fade’s other side, across from Avelaer. “I hope we haven’t missed anything?” |
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| eocine | Jan 19 2007, 10:24 PM Post #109 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Perhaps it is”, retorted the Drow to Skafloc, “but there is no certainty in what you say, and if we have managed to battle with an undead dragon and survive then there is nothing to say that there is anything else out there that is capable of slaughtering us all.” She took another small sip from her glass, allowing it to run over her tongue for a second as she savored the taste. “It is a chance I will gladly take, given that I have heard innumerable stores of the horrors meted out to my kind when discovered on the surface, stories of murder and rape, and I have no intention of risking that at the hands of the human filth that would defile me, rather I would prefer to be with a group for there is much strength in numbers. On his words on the Underdark her lip ticked upwards with amusement. “Of course you are not, but we revel in our propensity for both, your people on the other hand seek to deny it, and to paint it as being something that is only done by deviant groups within humanity. But that love of blood and chaos is upon all of you, even the most pious paladin would cut down a Drow youth with out hesitation.” She took another sip and then rolled the thin stem of the wineglass between her fingers as she considered, “If you visited it would be as my servant and chosen warrior, that much is true… But they would, in time grow to respect your combat prowess”, or at least they would were it not for your people’s pathetically brief existence… At Greg’s words to Fade Anaara didn’t actually say anything, she just nodded. In truth, and this was something that she was certain was probably unique to her and the Fey’ri amongst the party, she simply didn’t trust anyone. It wasn’t a luxury that could be afforded. For all her words to Skafloc earlier it wasn’t that she actually trusted the party, it was rather that, for the moment, she had proved her use by resurrecting one of their number, and she was aware that there would be those that felt she was owed because of it. She wasn’t foolish enough though to trust that it meant a lot, her upbringing in the Underdark hadn’t left her with that luxury. After all, down in those lightless environs it was often your family members that would knife you in the back. Literally. As Fade replied by herself to the question from the sorcerer the Drow watched the crimson haired being closely, more than able to sympathize in some ways, but in others she was well aware that her people had earned a reputation, and it was one that she had a healthy level of pride in. The thought that for a large number of the surface world her people were literally a mythical evil that lived below the surface was pleasing, for the surface world should fear the Drow, and never forget the danger that they posed. Still she followed first Fade’s diatribe, and then her eyes as the rogue caught sight of the entering figure of Avelaer… In a manner that could only have been called shameless the priestess let her gaze slide up and down his physique, impressive indeed, what a coup he would be if he could be turned and taken back down to the Underdark. A chance to recover the skills of the blade-singers of yore would ensure that there would be no punishment for returning with him, in fact there would be praise from the Spider-Queen for taking one of Corelleon’s children and stealing such a prize secret from the surfacers. For a moment there was a delightfully seductive image in her head of leading a group of Drow blade-singer’s into battle against the surface scum… But it was far too soon to make such plans, she was sure that he wouldn’t make such a choice easily, and she doubted for the moment that she could compel him… She would have to take her time and plan carefully so as not to mess anything up. That and of course think through the feasibility of the plan again in the cold dark of the night… She decided though to say nothing to the Elf for now, unsure exactly how she should be proceeding for now, and planning on asking for guidance from Lolth later on once they were out of the house of Sune… And speaking of that goddess… Other than an arm it appears that you have missed nothing… She thought with a smirk in Llana’s direction as the cleric seated herself. She looked at the woman’s husband and decided to see if she could garner a reaction from him, just to see if she could sample some jealousy from the priestess of the Goddess of love, for to induce such an action would be so exquisite… She shifted the position of her legs slightly so that the white material fell away from her thigh, exposing the side of her leg all the way up to her hip, and looked away, watching him out of the corner of her eye and preparing to catch him in the act… It should be noted that there was no intention of actually doing anything here, but Anaara loved the power her body wielded over men, and if that power could be used to annoy the representative of another religion then all the better… |
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| Darkwind | Jan 19 2007, 11:20 PM Post #110 |
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Greg grinned. "I do believe I've heard a challenge. More drink! Or would you rather forfeit while you at least have some semblance of control, Fade? 'Cause I'll drink you and everyone else under the table--it's a perk that comes with being a walking corpse, so to speak. I. Don't. Get. Drunk. Get it? Last chance..." He looked over to the dwarf and deadpanned. "No, it's a towel." After a few moments, he sighed and explained. "I have been captive of the daemonfey here before these people freed me--and the fey'ri didn't bother to provide me with a spare set of clothing. Since it was filthy, I gave my clothing and armor to the servants here, to be cleaned." He felt that clarified the matter sufficiently, so he turned toward the sorcerer. "Hey, Greg! You're no walking corse, so why do you keep saying that?" "Ah, but I am, sort of. The short of it is that I am partly responsible for releasing the fey'ri from their prison beneath Hellgate Keep. We--there were three of us--were sent to demolish that evil place, and we did. We died in that explosion, but I lingered on that plane to make sure the job was finished. I watched those half-fiends escape... and was given a chance to correct that. My Smiling God gave me a new body--why He made it bleached like this only He knows--with the understanding that I would use it to destroy them, a mission I've since re-interpreted as 'cleanse this Plane of their evil'." He nodded at Fade to acknowledge that she was the one that motivated that change. "This body shares many characteristics with the walking corpses you're thinking of, though it's not fueled by negative energy." He made an impatient gesture. "That's all I know or care about. The metaphysics of it are for sages and other such anal-retentives." |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 20 2007, 10:13 AM Post #111 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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“Like there’s any point to drinkin’ with a man who can’t get drunk…” Fade snorted. “Squiffy I may be – downright stupid I ain’t.” The fey’ri then caught sight of the dwarves and grinned broadly. “Now here’s some good lads. They, now they know about good drinking.” she toasted the dwarves and drained yet another glass. Looking a bit confused, the rogue held it up to the light. “Balls… I tells you, there must be a hole in this somewhere. I only just filled it up…” She couldn’t help grinning at Llana, and as the half elf sat down, the fey’ri winked at her. “Awright, chick?” she asked, lapsing into broad Luskan slang. “Lookin’ fine in tha’ swish little number. You wanna drink?” she looked conspiratorially at the Sunite. “I fear I may have had a bit too much too soon, and on an empty stomach too… so I aplololo… alopo…I’m sorry. You have my word as a Shadow Thief that I’ll be’ave as much as I can” she giggled “Which might no’ be sayin’ much, but, well, the thought's there…” At the sorcerer’s confession, Fade narrowed her eyes. “Ahh. So you’re to blame. My life’s been nothing but a big bastard mess since that happened. When we was trapped, we spent all our time plannin’ how to get out. Now we is out, dear ole Auntie Sarya, may the Abyss swallow her whole, well she’s had to move on to bigger things. MUCH bigger things.” This time, the fey’ri forwent the glass and took a swig straight out of the bottle. “Things that ‘cos I didn’t like ‘em, ended up with me gettin' into all kinds of trouble.” For a short moment, Fade looked down at her lap introspectively, but then shook her head and looked up, grinning. “Still, if it weren’t for all of that, I wouldn’t be here, annoyin’ you lot. Speakin’ of which…” With painful deliberation, Fade set her bottle on the table. She then stood up, swaying a little, and then meandered her way around the table to Avelaer. “Right, Twinkle, watch.” she said, an unmistakeable air of mischief about her. “When I was found, I didn’n’t have no other clothes either, But the nice invisitible people, they made sure I had this nice little number tucked away. So. Watch carefully…” she then wobbled over to a drawer, looked at it intently for a minute, and then opened it. Nothing. “Bugger.” She tried again. This time, there were tablecloths. “Maybe it don’t work in here… you only get the right stuff in the right room? Still faint hearts never fucked fair maid!” she took a table cloth from the drawer, and tore off a strip from the bottom of it. Then, using her teeth, she made a little hole in the centre and then ripped it wider – a little too wide. “Hehehe, whoops! Hope you like the off-the-shoulder look…” After that, she offered the resulting mess to Avelaer with a huge, triumphant grin. “See, you put your head in the hole and tie this bit round your waist. Easy! Might be a bit short, and I wouldn’t think about doin’ any acrobatics in it… but… oh, okay, maybe you could just go back to your room and get something” she conceded. |
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| Pamela | Jan 20 2007, 03:00 PM Post #112 |
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Molly
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Llana laughed at Fade’s greeting, and replied, “Awright in’eed,” in a very good imitation of the fey’ri’s accent. “And I’ll be happy to have some wine.” She looked around the table and saw the bottle before Anaara, and nodded to Karosin’s gesture for pouring. “Thank you,” she said to him, before turning back to the tipsy rogue. “You don’t need to apologise, but I do suggest that you might have a bite first before continuing.” She was mildly puzzled by Avelaer’s answer; all their new companions today had arrived as they were, without luggage, and had still managed to emerge dressed as they saw fit. She said nothing however, assuming that he was also drunk. As Greg began to discuss his state of being, she quietly summoned the invisible servants, asking that the meal be brought forward. She tuned out of that part of the conversation; she’d had her fill of death and undeath for the day. Instead she turned to Caine, and asked, “Does your clan live in the Silver Marches? We’ll be heading north once we’re done here, and if it will help you to get home sooner…?” Her eyes briefly rose to consider Skafloc. Was he a native of the area? She’d made nothing of his silence on the matter; she was hardly a person to say much about her own origins, and saw nothing unusual in that reticence. She listened to the werewolf’s answer till the sound of tearing linen reached her. “Fade! It’s all right,” she said, shaking her head in wry amusement, “Avelaer, whatever clothes you desire will be found in your quarters. Just examine the bureaus and wardrobes, or whatever it is that you have in your room.” Probably tree branches as hangers, she thought bemusedly to herself. “Vain as I am, I do not usually bring such clothing with me when I’m on a mission,” she remarked with a smile, “And I doubt the others do either.” She turned back to the werewolf. “My apologies- you were saying?” |
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| Castamir | Jan 20 2007, 04:30 PM Post #113 |
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Native
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Skafloc fell into a brooding silence as Anaara spoke of the blood and the chaos. He knew it well, at once he felt that uncomfortable feeling that verged on guilt, he'd done his share of indescriminate killing, of orcs. But they deserved his wrath, they had visited the same upon his people and had shown no mercy in their treatment of the helpless.. the guilt was instantly converted to anger. Her next comment provoked a reaction that she probably wasn't expecting. Her words - though smooth as silk - rubbing Skafloc up the wrong way entirely. "I will never be anyone's 'servant'." he said, almost spitting the word, "To do so would dishonour my people." He continued no further, it was a pointless discussion to be having now, and instead stood and nodded his head as Llana and Karosin entered the room, as well as the dwarves. He drained the last drop of the bottle while he was on his feet, and then grabbed another identical bottle, before returning to his seat. |
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| eocine | Jan 20 2007, 05:36 PM Post #114 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The idea of using gold as a kind of skeleton key was an unusual one to the werewolf, for his life hadn’t been one that in any real way overlapped Fade’s, for him gold wasn’t needed to open doors, sufficient force could achieve that just as easily. She was wrong though in one respect, gold wasn’t meaningless, for gold brought power, but what good was gold to a wolf? Or a man lost to society? In the woods and the wide open spaces of Toril gold couldn’t feed you, nor keep you warm in the bitterly cold nights, it couldn’t hunt for you nor cure you when you fell sick. Out there, in the places that Caine called home, gold was simply a shiny piece of metal nothing more and nothing less. His dark brows knitted together and he watched closely as the Fey’ri toyed with her ring. “I can tell by how you touch it that you treasure the ring.” As the gem-encrusted ring was dropped into her cleavage the sexually frustrated animal side of his being made a bolt for the surface, but in his human shape he was more resistant to its call, and he pushed it aside, lifting his mug once more and trying to drown the desire in a torrent of Dwarven ale. Whilst the others made their arguments the lycanthrope sat still in his seat, listening to the misunderstandings and confusions, the prejudices and stupidities, and wished for an end to it. This was not his life, they were not his people, he was a creature of the pack, one that relied on others to hunt by his side, and one that had no place in himself for such pettiness. He found his heart longing for the security of the pack and the freedom of the open wilds, but his thirst for revenge against those that had imprisoned him was an even stronger force, and momentarily his face displayed and expression of perfectly chilling rage as he allowed a daydream of how he would revenge himself on the mage to dance across his conscious mind. When Llana spoke to him he found himself having to drag himself back into the conversation, because he had been contemplating his own next path. “No, my homelands are the foothills of the Grayspeak Mountains”, replied the werewolf, mentioning a mountain range that was deep in the Savage Reaches, even further north than the Silver Marches. Epic landscapes of ice and stone, with winds enough to knock a man from his feet, and ancient cairns and lochs. It was a land of the harshest beauty imaginable, and the realms along the bottom of the mountains were his dominion, his hunting ground, and they were a place he wished to return. “I need no help to return to my home though…” He replied in response to her offer, his tone gruff but hardly insulting. |
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| eocine | Jan 20 2007, 07:36 PM Post #115 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Karosin followed Llana into the dining hall of the mansion, doing his best to keep his expression on the positive side of neutrality, considering the people present and the amount of alcohol that had already been imbibed it was of course a battle that he was destined to lose, but it had to be said that he gained points for making the attempt. We haven’t missed anything no, but it looks like a lot has been missed around here, and if I were pressed to hazard a guess I would say what is missing is culture and any kind of dignity, was his thought in response to Llana’s general question of the room. Much like Greg, Karosin wasn’t much of a drinker, he’d seen far too many people killed because their reactions had been dulled by alcohol, and in fact had taken advantage of insobriety in those he killed with impressive regularity. For the drunk is rarely ever aware of what he’s doing and where he is, and of course is far less likely to actually notice things going on around him. Killing a drunkard was akin to taking candy from a baby at times, so easy that it was almost absurd. The only times he actually drank were on the rare occasions that it was socially expected of him to do so, and if to not have a drink would arouse undue suspicion, and even then as soon as it was acceptable for him to stop he would immediately cease. Drink was one of the innumerable vices that had failed to find any kind of hold on him, even in his lowest ebb he had steered clear of it, and now that his life was virtually infinitely better there was certainly no reason to change that. Another vice that he could easily ignore was casual sex, in fact he went beyond merely ignoring it to the point of actively scorning those that were involved in it. It was from this viewpoint that he was able to observe the Drow’s dress as it slid off her smooth thigh and exposed the expanse of skin that was beneath. “I consider it fortunate that only intimate contact with you will infect me with any of the array of diseases that you have managed to pick up whoring your way through the Underdark”, murmured the assassin to the Drow when he was more or less certain that all eyes had been drawn to Fade’s impromptu toga demonstration. “Furthermore I can assure you that any contact that you and I share will find you spitted on the end of one of my daggers, I don’t play games Drow…” "Stay out of my way and I shall stay out of yours”, he spoke quietly under his breath, eyes glittering with a glacial coldness. “You may toy with the others all you wish, that is not my concern, but if you involve yourself in my affairs or those of my wife I will kill you.” “Depend on it.” Anything more that he was about to say to the obsidian skinned priestess was interrupted when the table before them seemed to glow for a second, leading to the dwarves and Caine hurriedly snatching their mugs from it. There was a sudden flash that was enough to make Anaara cover her eyes and curse, and then instantly before them a huge feast was laid out, featuring dishes from all over Faerun. A cursory examination showed that if you had a taste for something then you could almost certainly find it somewhere…. Albeit possibly at the other end of the table, and this was surely something that would come to tax the party. They had proved they could handle combat, but could they handle the challenge of being polite enough to dine like well mannered adults? |
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| Pamela | Jan 21 2007, 04:02 PM Post #116 |
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Molly
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Llana nodded, remarking, “Fair enough. I’ve never been that far north myself. I’ve actually only been in this area since the fall. We were planning on returning to Waterdeep when we were approached.” She wondered what had brought the werewolf so far from its home, but decided not to pursue that particular question. “Have you yourself ever traveled to the south?” She suddenly turned as she caught the tone that Karosin reserved when he was being especially, quietly, unpleasant, and passed a quick glance at him and the Drow. She was diverted momentarily by the sudden appearance of the feast, and her eyes roved across the table, looking at the varied selection of many cuisines, and she caught the sight of Sembian roe, cucumber yogurt, and grape-leaf rolls stuffed with rice and pine-nuts, scattered far and wide. A platter of steaks and chops were heaped before her. She tried to take a firm grip on the tray, but frowned as she realised she’d only drop its contents. The plate then lifted seemingly by itself. “Thank you,” she murmured, and turned to the dark pair to her left. “Karosin, Anaara, do you want any of this before I pass it to Caine?” She gave her husband a familiar bright smile. |
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| eocine | Jan 21 2007, 07:09 PM Post #117 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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She raised one of her eyebrows at Skafloc’s vehement rejection of so much as the idea of being a servant, not at his response, but rather at the way that the human seemed to believe that willing servitude was the only way that the Drow had of gaining slaves. No, there were many many other ways in the Drow arsenal. Not of course that reveling them now would be any kind of smart idea, it was always better to have a definite plan of action, and whilst a part of her wished to instantly attempt some form of mental bondage immediately there were three distinct things stopping her; Firstly and most importantly she didn’t have any such spells left, and would need to wait until she could pray for more. Secondly she was wise enough to know that this was only a momentary pique on her part, and that it would be better to wait until her mind has beating cold again before making a decision. And thirdly and finally that she was very much in the house of Sune, and she couldn’t be sure that there would be any way that such a spell cast in this place wouldn’t have repercussions for her later. She decreed that it would do her no good to continue to press the barbarian for now, his temper was up and it would be better for her to let it cool. What she would instead do would be to watch him closely and see how long it took him to calm down, and then from there she would be able to tell better what buttons to press. Speaking of pressing buttons… Ahh yes, the human has noticed… She uncrossed and crossed her legs again, looking for all the world as if she had no idea at all that she had fallen under Karosin’s cold gaze. Males were so predictable and easy to manipulate. To say that she was surprised by the assassin’s words would have been an understatement, such was their vehemence that she was momentarily left speechless. In her Underdark home she was of a ruling house, and as such more or less immune to such insults, in addition to that though she was a powerful priestess in her own right, and thus not one accustomed to threats from one that she considered to be a distinct lesser. After that brief conversation she fell silent for the moment, a moment of clarity upon her as she realised how closely she would be skirting the line in staying with the group and trying to sow discord. Clearly she had to consider these things closely, for it seemed more and more obvious that any mistake would probably be a fatal one for her, and as such she would have to rely on her brains. At Llana’s question she said nothing, merely shaking her head, for the moment her appetite lost somewhat. Already though her ego was dragging her thoughts towards thoughts of revenge against the assassin, and this more than anything else that displayed the truth behind the Drow, that she was capable of much steel, it’s just that it took something to focus against to reach it. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 21 2007, 08:24 PM Post #118 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade blushed a little as her stomach rumbled loudly at the arrival of the feast; she simply hadn't realised how hungry she truly was until the food was actually there on the plate, so to speak. She tried to think back to the last time she had actually eaten properly... had it really been almost a tenday ago? She'd been running from Inther that long, so it must've been. Since then, she'd been living upon the dry rations she had managed to grab before her desperate flight and the occasional things she had managed to steal from the remote farmsteads she had encountered. Forgetting the half-dressed elf, she scampered back around the table and eagerly took her seat, eyeing the dishes in front of her, trying to decide whether just tucking in would be seen as extremely bad manners, To her delight, near enough everything being served was something she enjoyed eating - with perhaps the exception of the dwarf bread, something that was admittedly an aquired taste. The selection of shellfish steaming in a huge bowl to her right caught her particular attention: she hadn't come across them until she arrived in Luskan, but had instantly fallen in love with the locally caught staples. Glancing from side to side, the fey'ri tried to take in what everyone else was doing and adjust her manners accordingly. It wasn't that she didn't know how to behave properly at the table - she did - but in her alcohol-softened state, she didn't want to make a total and complete utter arse of herself; that would undoubtedly come later if she was allowed to continue drinking. Watching Llana, she smiled a little as one of the invisible servants helped the temporarily disabled cleric. In the end, she couldn't help herself - she reached across and took the bowl of shellfish, determined to heap a large serving's worth on her plate. Before she did that, though, she decided to see if the priestess wanted any first. "Llana - you want any of this?" |
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| Castamir | Jan 21 2007, 08:50 PM Post #119 |
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Native
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Skafloc simmered for a minute, turning his head at Karosin's exchange with Anaara, but making nothing of it. He was too busy trying to keep a scowl off his face. Of course, food cured him of almost all of his ills almost instantly. He was afterall, only a man. He grinned and reached a huge arm across the table, grabbing the hind leg of a roast boar, ripping it off with his hand and biting into it with a contented sigh, before grabbing the ale bottle with his other hand and washing it down with some of the rich dwarf brew. |
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| eocine | Jan 22 2007, 09:16 PM Post #120 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As the food arrived Karosin turned his head slightly towards the others, watching with a level of distain as both Skafloc, the Dwarves and Caine simply started snatching at the good and scarfing it down. The cutlery might as well have not been there, other than for the fact that it apparently looked nice on the table… His instant decree was that he would accept nothing that came from anywhere near any of them. The last thing that he wanted to see was a strand of Dwarven beard in his food, and then there was the werewolf who would probably have shed everywhere like the animal he really was. At his wife’s over-bright smile towards him he simply shook his head and gave her a slightly self amused smile. Scorning the vast amounts of red meat and game that covered a lot of the table, he instead contented himself with a few seasoned potatoes, some lean chicken and a selection of steamed vegetables. It had long been a habit of his to eat in this way if at all possible, though he invariably had to force himself to do so, as by nature he preferred not to eat on the night before an assignment, but the need to keep his strength up rather forced his hand. Whilst the others conversed he was content to keep his own council whilst he wondered what the following day would hold. If everything went according to plan it seemed likely that they would be facing winged creatures, which often made things more complicated for one that did his fighting on the ground… It was this kind of moment that made him lament not carrying a ranged weapon, for he was actually a fine shot when he needed to be, it’s just that personal preference meant that he was much more a melee combatant. |
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| eocine | Jan 23 2007, 07:32 PM Post #121 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Never”, Caine shook his head, and Llana was able to easily enough pick up that there was a distinct distrust for ‘southern things’ in that single word. “My people have our lands, and they provide us with all we need, there is no point to go further south, and the lands there are full of opulent weakness.” If he knew he was giving offence he was indeed entirely ignorant of that, it was simply a case that the lycanthrope had rarely had the need to make any kind of small talk before. In addition he was possessed of a healthy dose of xenophobia about those pampered beings from the south, though he didn’t feel the need to over articulate itself, he knew that the truth in his feelings would be born out by their actions over time. He was distracted from such musings by the sudden flash of light, and he winced at its brightness for a moment, before he looked back at the table, and instantly his mouth started to water as he looked down at what was laid out before him. All thoughts of continued conversation were put to once side as he snatched at a plate of roast duck and began to tear chunks off one of them with his teeth, ignoring both the company and the cutlery in a bid to feed as quickly as possible. Watching the werewolf’s example the Dwarves, who hadn’t had a good meal in ages, did much the same apparently getting into contact with their own inner wolves as they gorged themselves quickly. It appeared that the presence of the more civilized members of the group really did count for nothing in the face of such deep hunger. |
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| Pamela | Jan 23 2007, 09:03 PM Post #122 |
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Molly
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Llana nodded at the description of the ‘spoiled southerners’, privately amused. Those who lived in the Heartlands would be offended to be seen as such, yet had no trouble using that term for neighbours below their own borders. She wondered if Silverymoon counted as ‘southern’ by these standards, and imagined their reaction at the slur. She was fortunately diverted from trying to consider some other topic of conversation by the appearance of the feast. She returned Karosin’s smile with the pointed stare wives possess, complete with the small lift of the eyebrows. She knew that smile and that it was far from innocent. She tried to gauge Anaara’s mood; the Drow didn’t seem angry or hurt, but subdued, which was not a reaction she expected from the arrogant priestess. At the refusal of the platter by both, however, she had to lay aside her curiosity and see to common courtesy. She turned her head to address the lycanthrope when she found him literally immersed in roast duck. She quickly looked away, trying to contain her amusement and was gladly diverted by Fade’s question. “Yes please, but just a little- I intend to try as much of everything as I possibly can,” she laughed. She inclined her head at the platter levitating at her left, asking, “Would you like any of this, or shall I let it go farther down the table? By the way, that blouse really suits you- is it midnight blue?” she asked. |
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| eocine | Jan 25 2007, 05:20 PM Post #123 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The meal passed by quickly, as they are wont to do when the majority of those gathered around the table are ravenous, and focused far more on feeding themselves than making small talk with their neighbours. It was probably no surprise that the red meat was what vanished most rapidly, for those with the largest appetites were Caine, Skafloc and the Dwarves, and they demolished it with an admirable zest. The vegetables sat looking very sorry for themselves in the face of this virtually carnivorous gluttony. As soon as she had eaten her fill the Drow cleric Anaara had stood and excused herself from the meal, pausing before she left the room as if she were about to say something, but seemingly deciding otherwise and making her way back to the cool darkness of her bedroom. However if that should have been some key that the night was over it wasn’t one taken up by the majority of the table, some of whom barely even looked up as she left. Once it seemed that everyone had fed admirably there was another flash, and in an instant the table had cleared again. A second flash moments later had covered the table in varied desserts from all corners of Faerun, as well as a large pot of Lantan coffee that steamed on the far end of the table, most recently vacated by Anaara. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 25 2007, 08:29 PM Post #124 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade gave Llana a good natured smile and ladled a choice selection of shellfish from the bowl on to her plate before helping herself to a portion roughly twice the size. She nodded at the Sunite's question, determined to try a little bit of everything if possible. She was about to answer Llana's question when the sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh simply became too much; she turned in her seat and frowned a little at Caine as he decimated a whole duck. "Oi!" she whistled a short, sharp note from between her teeth. "Wolfie! There's a concept known as 'table manners, y'know..." she then caught sight of Skafloc doing the same to an enormous hind leg of boar. "And that goes doubley for you" she grinned, waving a fork in the barbarian's general direction. "I dunno... setting a bad example, you are!" She stabbed her fork down on a piece of squid tentacle and held it up, sniggering to herself before popping it her mouth. "Hehehehee... suckers..." The fey'ri then focused her attention back to Llana. "Yep - midnight blue. It's an easy colour to wear when you've got my colouring." She then smiled a little shyly at the Sunite. "Thank you. I... don't often get, you know, compliments... nice ones, anyway." She sighed. "Normally it's 'Oi, love, get yer tits out!' or 'Can you do tricks with that, eh?'" She stabbed down at her food again, only this time with much more venom than before. "I hate males sometimes. Heh. Who am I kidding. I hate males most of the time." Aware that this line of thinking would sink her down into a bad mood, the rogue dropped her fork, picked up the bottle and refilled her glass, from which she took a large gulp. "Still, nothin' beats what you've managed to pull off - you look good, girlie!" She grinned again. Fade slowly made her way through her plate, savouring each bite simply because she didn't know when she'd eat this well again. She got involved in a few enthusiastic dwarven toasts, and couldn't help but tease Nalrid and his boys about the amount of meat they managed to get lost in their beards. Anaara was conspicuous by her silence, and when excused herself from the table, the fey'ri considered following her just to make sure she was all right, but then decided against it - she knew she wouldn't have necessarily appreciated someone else nosing into her business. Maybe she'd stop by later, when things weren't so obvious. By the time the dessert arrvied, the fey'ri had managed to put away the majority of the bottle she had picked up, and was consequently in good spirits. "Ooooh... creamy things..." she ran an eye over most of the dishes and stuck her finger in the nearest one, completely oblivious to the advice regarding table manners she had previously been extolling, and after withdrawing it, stuck the dessert-laden digit into her mouth. After a moment's reflection, she decided to announce her opinion before grabbing a serving spoon. "Wayhey! Trifle! Excellent..." |
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| Pamela | Jan 25 2007, 09:13 PM Post #125 |
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Molly
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“Which I don’t,” Llana remarked ruefully, admiring the fey’ri’s complexion and hair colour. “If I did wear it, I’d look like a jaundiced carrot, if that makes any sense…” She laughed at Fade’s remarks on previous compliments, saying, “I don’t think there’s a beautiful woman alive who hasn’t had similar comments, unfortunately.” She said nothing to the misanthropic remark; it was hardly the time or place to address something like that, and it would only be like lancing a gangrenous infection which wouldn’t be healed so easily. She did smile warmly at the compliment, replying with some amusement, “A badly-dressed Sunite is a heretic, after all…” Llana had made sure not to eat to satiety, and she was not disappointed for her patience. Hey eyes gleamed as they took in the honeyed pastries, chocolate fondue, whipped cream, and all the other confectionaries. “Oh,” she breathed, agonizing where to begin, before reaching to take up a single grape, as if it would absolve her of her coming indulgence. "Fade!" she exclaimed, laughing and shaking her head. She herself took up a small fork, and stabbing it into a slice of apple, dipped it into the nearest pool of chocolate, resting upon a brazier. Her eyes narrowed in anticipation, as she waited for it to finish dripping, solidifying a little, before bringing it to her lips. A smile of content crossed her lips. Now she turned her attention to a small sticky triangle of baklava. She looked around, then remarked aloud to the gathering, laughing, “Now all we need is a dance floor to work this all off." |
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| Castamir | Jan 25 2007, 11:09 PM Post #126 |
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Native
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Skafloc only paused for the briefest of seconds as Fade admonished his table manners. He grinned, juice running down his chin, before tucking in again. He had to. It was either eat like that or lose out to Caine or the dwarves. He'd managed to go for years far from his beloved homeland without altering the way he acted in so called 'civilised' company, and he wasn't about to change now. When the desserts appeared he frowned in consternation. The sickly sweet items on show had never been to his liking, so instead he picked up his ale again and took a mouthful, noting Anaara had left. The cleric intrigued him, the only drow he'd met previously had been rebels, outcasts from Drow society, fled to the surface to escape the cruelty of the spider worshippers. Yet here was one of the same, and he was surprised that this was the only one drow he'd met that he didn't want to kill within minutes of speaking to her. He watched as some of the other's dug into the sweet food. Noted Fade's eagerness and spoke up. "Careful, that stuff will rot your teeth. Fangs. Whatever it is you've got in there." he grinned, before sloshing back more ale and standing up and picking up another bottle. They were either going to end up hating each other or getting very drunk and levelling a bar one day. He couldn't tell which, there was such a fine line between an enemy and a drinking buddy. In his world anyway. "I look forward to more battles and glorious victories, but now I have a roaring fire to lay down next to. Goodnight." he declared, before turning and walking out of the room, heading for the door to the room he'd claimed as his own. He didn't particularly feel the need for smalltalk, and his friend was likely still empying his guts somewhere - if he was still conscious. |
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| Darkwind | Jan 26 2007, 03:45 AM Post #127 |
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Native
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ooc: if you care to, use the following rolls: Perform (strings): 7[roll]+17[skill]+2[MW bonus]+1[elven harp bonus (see RoW)]=27 and Perform (sing): 19[roll]+17[skill]=36 which would make his playing memorable but singing extraordinary. Thanks to the ioun stone that still circled around his head, Avelaer didn't need sustenance. However, he took a few pieces of fruit and vegetables--and what meat he managed to recover from the other men--and nibbled at them half-heartedly. The sight of them gorging themselves was a bit more than he could stand while eating, so he decided to create a distraction and add a bit of culture to this assembly. A whispered word to one of the servants and a minute later, he had his harp in hand. After making sure it was tuned properly, he cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Hear this tale of epic adventure, of evil vanquished and shining heroes who prevailed!" A standard opening he learned during the short time he'd spent trying to become a bard. And with that, he launched into a song commemorating the very battle they'd just fought against the dragon--giving special attention to the bravery of Caine and Skaflock and Llana and the latter's sacrifice in particular--while playing the harp to basically follow the tale. Together, his voice and harp worked so well, they produced the illusion that he'd created the epic in the short time that had passed since the event. Actually, though, he made it up on the spot by simply plugging the appropriate events and heroes into a standard framework, which he also picked up from that bard. He sang in Elven, for he wanted to give them an Elven song--and such could not be sang in the Common tongue. |
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| Pamela | Jan 26 2007, 07:00 PM Post #128 |
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Molly
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“Good night- or day,” Llana called out to the departing barbarian. The problem with battle was that it was strenuous and tiring. She however, had had a ‘rest’ which had taken away most of that fatigue. Mind you, I also haven’t been drinking for the past hour or so, she thought with amusement. She looked up with interest when Avelaer brought his harp out, wondering if he was going to provide some music for them to dance to. She looked down at the desserts, briefly torn, but decided that she would merely quickly take up a plate for later if required; Karosin didn’t have a sweet tooth, and she could cajole (or nag) him into dancing if required. Oh, she thought as she heard his opening words, then sat back to enjoy her dessert, deciding that he was waiting till everyone was done. She turned to Karosin at the first elvish words, smiling with private amusement. I’ll translate it afterwards… That thought shattered as she realised what the subject of the song was. The blood drained from her face, and she lowered her head as she heard in exquisite torturous beauty the retelling of that morning’s battle. Oh goddess, thank you, she prayed fervently, suddenly very grateful that her husband was unable to understand a word of the ballad. Hearing her death sung, she shivered and closed her eyes, then suddenly smiled at the oddness of the moment. When the last of the dulcet tones faded away, she took a deep breath and smiled. “It was very beautiful; thank you, Avelaer,” she said. She then gave a shaky laugh, and said, “But perhaps we could have something light and amusing- something in Common- or Dwarvish?” she asked, turning to their now-sated companions. |
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| eocine | Jan 26 2007, 10:28 PM Post #129 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Unlike his wife Karosin wasn’t a fan of desserts at all, though it would more or less be true to say that he wasn’t a fan of food in general. Whilst he could certainly appreciate a well cooked dish, he derived scarce anymore pleasure from the finest food than he would a simple peasants meal. There were simply far more important things to worry about than what you used to fill your belly. Of course there was also the fact that he often spent days on end handling poisons, and if anything is likely to spoil your appetite it’s the knowledge that if your hands haven’t been spotlessly cleaned then you could very well be risking your own life. When Anaara had risen to leave Karosin had scarcely even looked in her direction to acknowledge what was happening, there was little point in doing so now, and whilst his own innate and mile-wide cold streak begged for the chance to add something he also recognised that his wife needed the peace and quiet and the sense of relaxation that would hopefully come from this meal far more than he needed to indulge his caustic side. It was thus that he said nothing, though not without making several mental notes for future reference, after all it never hurt knowing how to elicit an emotional response from people, no matter what that emotion was. In this kind of event small talk was something that other people did. Whilst he was a more than adequate conversationalist he simply saw no reason to go out of his way to share much with the others. If they wanted to discuss seriously what was to come tomorrow then fine, but most of the conversations seemed to be gentle badinage or discussions on where people came from and what they had done prior to this event, and his own particular mindset didn’t lend itself to either. His wit was too cold, and his aura of privacy was too strong for him to be much of a social animal unless he had to be. It was from this peculiar personal standpoint that he watched Avelaer begin his song. One of his eyebrows raised at the Elf’s intro to the song, because there was little of the ‘shining hero’ in him at all, his personal standpoint being more of the ‘shadowy killer’, but never the less, despite the fact that he couldn’t understand a word of it, it was undeniably an impressive performance, and a welcome spot of class added to the night. For whilst the assassin wasn’t a connoisseur of fine foods, he was someone with a more than appreciative ear when it came to music, and was more than capable of recognising when something had been played with admirable skill. One thing that he was glad of though was that he didn’t understand word one of the lyrics, for his tastes generally ran to the orchestral rather than the ballad. For him the sung verse detracted from the precision of the playing of the instruments, and precision was something that he had ever valued. Probably for the best though had been the fact that he hadn’t looked towards Llana through the whole performance other than at the very beginning, when she gave him a smile on the language issue, after which he had turned away and watched Avelear closely. It was only at the end, and on hearing Llana’s voice that he twigged that something was truly up, and he looked towards her with mingled concern and curiosity, deciding that for now it would be best to let her decide what she wanted to do. |
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| eocine | Jan 27 2007, 12:12 PM Post #130 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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If Caine had heard Fade’s words on the distinctly alien concept of ‘table manners’ his continued gorging certainly didn’t show it, and as soon as the duck had been entirely demolished he snatched up a large steak and started to gnaw at it, of course the jaws of his hybrid form would have torn through it far more quickly, but he found that the taste of things was lessened in that particular form. Other than blood of course, the taste of that seemed to noticeable appreciate in his other forms, and became something like a drug, but for now the steak was more than sufficient to sate his hunger. With a jerk he ripped the dripping meat in half and tilted his head backwards so he could drop the smaller pieces directly into his mouth. Ahhh to finally be eating again after so long, his hunger had been a powerful one indeed. Powerful enough that he had very nearly taken a bite form one of the undead, and when you reach that stage you clearly are desperate for any kind of sustenance. Still, if most of his mind was taken up with the meal he was at least vaguely aware of what was going on besides him, and so was able to eavesdrop on the conversation going on to his side, where Fade and Llana were conversing. Compliments weren’t something that he did, but by the same token nor did he do distasteful shouts from the security of a group of like minded imbeciles, he simply fought to prove he was dominant and then took the rewards that came from that. Once the main course had vanished the werewolf looked over the table at the vast amounts of sweet foods, and noticeably turned his nose up at them, instead heading over towards the drinks cabinet, coming back with another mug of ale and virtually tipping it down his throat. As Avelaer began playing the lycanthrope watched closely, and there was an undeniable sense that the song was a catchy one, but as he couldn’t understand what was being said the epic retelling of the battle against the dragon wasn’t one that he could fully appreciate. Still he nodded his head along with the song until it reached it’s conclusion, and then gave a look of thanks to the Elf for his playing. Whether it was a sudden surge of gratitude, or a brief moment of humanity that caused it, Caine would never know, but almost before he could stop himself he had addressed the table at large. “I wish to thank you all for my freedom, and I will repay that debt owed in blood, be it my own or that of our enemies, that I swear.” No sooner had he spoken though than he had seemed to retract into himself as if he didn’t know why he had just spoken, and to cover that he took another swig of the ale, briefly wondering if it might not have been that which had caused his thanks and his promise both. Either way though his word was now given, and an oath couldn’t be broken. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 27 2007, 04:25 PM Post #131 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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At Llana's mock admonishment, the fey'ri just grinned. When Skafloc chimed in regarding her teeth, she laughed and after making sure they weren't caked in dessert first, grinned widely. When he got up to leave, Fade frowned good naturedly at him. "Hey, where you going? Lightweight! I was looking forward to seeing who had the larger capacity for ale; you, or Nalrid. Ahhh well. Another time. G'night." She raised her glass to him and then grinned cheekily. "Sleep well and dream of large women." She then turned to Caine. "Okay, Wolfie - you're his substitute. Can you out-drink a dwarf?" Any further speculation Fade may have had regarding the werewolf's capacity for drink was cut short by Avelaer's song. The fey'ri liked music, and so stopped to listen. It was obvious from the outset that the elf was an accomplished musician, and the fey'ri soon found herself listening intentley, her elbows resting on the table and her chin cupped in her hands. At first, she didn't register the words, but when she finally did, she glanced a little uneasily at Llana. Upon seeing her close her eyes and shiver, Fade sat back in her chair and surrepticiously placed a comforting hand upon her leg for a brief moment, guessing correctly that only she and the Sunite would understand what the elf was singing about. As the song came to an end, Fade just nodded, for once unsure of what to say. The re-telling of the day's earlier events brought with them a storm of emotions - happiness that they had survived; pride that they had triumphed; pain at having to re-live Llana's death again. When Caine rose, the fey'ri expected him to just leave the table; it was with great surprise when he thanked them. That got the rogue thinking. She wasn't one for public displays of gratitude - she was a 'show' rather than 'tell' kind of person, and hoped that her rescuers realised her gratitude came through her willingness to fight by their side and risk her neck in protecting them. Also, words such as the ones Caine was spouting were ties - constraints that the chaotic female didn't want to be associated with. Considering the werewolf was supposedly of evil weal.. why the thanks and gratitude? Again, her thoughts wandered to his willingness to offer himself up in her stead to the djinn earlier. Aware that she was now scrutinising the lythancrope, she shook her head and looked away, picking up her glass once again. If push came to shove, she could interrogate him later - the dinner table wasn't the place for that. |
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| Pamela | Jan 27 2007, 09:41 PM Post #132 |
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Molly
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Llana turned her head at Caine’s sudden, and fairly surprising oath. She bowed her head in acknowledgement of the gift. “Thank you,” she said simply, and raised her glass to him in a silent toast. She looked around, suddenly tired with the heaviness of the moment. It was utterly selfish, and she knew it. Everyone celebrates- and deals with tension- in their own way, she reminded herself. And I am entitled to my own, she thought, and raised her head, suddenly smiling. She put down her glass, and turned sparkling eyes to Karosin in a silent, affectionate apology. “I am unable to compete with our fair friend, but I hope that you will indulge me as I sing a song popular among the Sunites in Waterdeep….” And with that, the redhead tossed back her hair, beamed at the gathering, and let loose one long sweet note, which wove its way to heaven and back. “Aaaaa….." And suddenly, the priestess winked. "A wizard's staff has a knob on the end….” |
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| Castamir | Jan 28 2007, 12:27 AM Post #133 |
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Native
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As Skafloc left the room he didn't stop at Fade's comment, though he did grin raising his hand and waving over his shoulder on his way out. He'd love to outdrink the rogue, but in truth drinking people to near death wasn't something to do in the middle of a quest, it took days to recover from the kind of session that rendered Skafloc legless, and as far as he could remember they didn't have that long.. Once his door had shut he once again marvelled at the living space he'd been provided with. Around the edges of the room there was a chill in the air, but the closer he got to the ever roaring fire in the middle the warmer it got. He sat down with a contented sigh and opened the bottle, taking another long swig, before laying back, and staring at the smoke rising through the hole in the ceiling, and the stars visible through it. He was as geographically close to home as he'd been for years, and right now he actually felt even closer, even though he knew deep down that it was somewhere he'd never really return to. It was impossible. |
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| eocine | Jan 28 2007, 05:20 PM Post #134 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“And runes run up the shaft!” Came a bellow from a rather red eyed Elf stood by the door, swaying slightly as if stood in a stiff breeze. His hair was still dripping wet, and he was wearing different clothes to the earlier ones, it seemed pretty obvious that he had somehow managed to drag himself through a bath of some sort, and was at the very least a little more sober than before. Though these things are of course relative, as he was also quite clearly still pretty blitzed. His path towards the table was made using the overly careful steps of the drunk, each of them carefully measured in a bid to avoid staggering off to the side. All the while he was walking he was continuing the song, making full use of the set of bongos that hung down at his chest, a broad strap over his shoulder. “It’s long and proud and stiff and loud!” The flats of his hands beat against the skins of the bongos as he stepped forwards, giving Llana a smile as he did so, recognising even through the drink that she wore the symbol of Sune prominently, and as such it was almost certain to be her that he was supposed to be helping as payment for his… Minor misdemeanors. Stepping past behind the others he moved towards the drinks cabinet, this time selecting something rather less potent, and idly continuing the beat with his one free hand slapping against the bongos. “It’s the pride of wizardcraft!” He pulled the cork free with his teeth and dropped it down onto the cabinet before taking a decently sized swig. Ahhh… Much better, he thought for a moment, then though again as he could feel his stomach contract at being introduced to alcohol again so soon, and it took a steadying breath before he managed to quell the sudden desire to vomit again, but the feeling soon passed, and because he had continued to play the bongos one handed he was able to more or less pass off this delay as a part of the intended tune. The Elven lush then turned back to the table and began the chorus, walking towards one of the unoccupied seats as he did so, disappointed by the fact that Skafloc seemed to have retired for the evening, still there was little enough to trouble him now that he felt a decent amount better. And now for the chorus… “A wizard's staff has a knob on the end, knob on the end, knob on the end A wizard's staff has a knob on the ennndddd! What he does with it is magic!” |
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| eocine | Jan 28 2007, 06:11 PM Post #135 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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The words of the werewolf brought no reaction from Karosin at all, such pledges were worthless. He’d heard enough of them in times, but were enough terror to be weighed against such promises they would instantly become feather light, and fly away like a butterfly in a breeze. It was this type of thing that his professional life had ever relied on, the ability to break promises of fealty and protection… For whilst pledges were easily given, it was a true challenge to see them through to completion, especially when they involved such promises as debts being paid in blood… He looked curiously at Llana as she spoke again, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards in surprise. In truth the time spent in Waterdeep hadn’t been one that he remembered as being fantastic musically, to be honest the Sunite clergy seemed to have a distinctly different taste to his own… The apology in her eyes though confused him, at least for a moment… And then it all came clear to him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the chosen song, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be joining in, not for anything in the world. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement towards the door, and he reassuring weight of the dagger sheathed at his wrist slid downwards as he flicked open the clip that held the blade in place, causing the razor sharp dagger to drop down into his hand, hidden now below the desk, ready to be thrown should the person by the door prove to be any kind of a threat. As the Elf began singing Karosin virtually made up his mind that throwing the dagger would be for the best… Unfortunately though, before he could whip the blade towards the throat of the singing buffoon he felt Llana’s hand on his shoulder, and knew that the moment had probably been lost… A pity that, for now the stranger kept on singing… |
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| Pamela | Jan 28 2007, 08:04 PM Post #136 |
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Molly
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Llana was as surprised as the others by the elf’s presence, let alone the banging of the bongos. It had not been presented in the course of the dinner conversation, but considering how hungry and/or drunk the company had been, it was somewhat understandable. Unlike the others, though, the half-elf was a cleric, and one didn’t receive miracles and expect them to suddenly turn sour. She could feel Karosin’s disgust radiating like an arctic gale, and turned to lay a restraining hand on her husband’s shoulder, unaware of the dagger. She turned to look at him, shrugging her shoulders as she continued singing, while trying not to laugh at his almost feline expression of contempt. Her expression grew a bit more concerned as she took in his gait, his flushed appearance, and his reaction to the new bout of drinking. While she had no intention of interrupting anyone’s night of drinking, she had no intention of witnessing a text-book case of alcohol poisoning. She waited till the song’s end however, and proceeded over to the blonde singer’s chair, murmuring the invocation as she then lay a healing hand on his shoulder. “I’m Llana Darkoff, and you’re probably not very pleased to see me right now. Have you eaten at all?” |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 28 2007, 11:00 PM Post #137 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade settled back into her seat again, intrigued regarding the recital Llana was obviously going to perform for them. However, her intrigue soon dissolved into amused delight as the Sunite began to sing a song she knew - a song she knew very well, in fact. It was a common song sung in Luskan taverns, and if the priestess knew it, it was obviously commonly sung in taverns all over Faerun. Clapping her hands, the fey'ri began to join in with the singing, but stopped short when she heard the bongos. Bongos were certainly an instrument Fade was *not* familiar with. Most of the bards in Luskan were proficient with the lute, harp and in the memorable case of the resident gnome bard in one of her local haunts, a banjo. One bard she had ended up knowing quite well played the piccolo astoundingly well, the memory of that particular evening making the fiendling grin a little stupidly as she took a sip from her glass. She watched a little increduously as the elf from earlier rejoined their little gathering - if ever there had been a 'just say no' campaign regarding the evils of alcohol, he was most certainly it. By the looks of it, he'd tried to clean himself up, but the red-rimmed eyes, general aura of dishevelled inebriety and the fact that she could near enough hear his liver screaming were enough to tell Fade that he hadn't actually sobered up at all, and although she herself was aware that she'd had more than a skinful before and during dinner, she couldn't help but grimace a little when he uncorked yet another bottle and took a draught. "Are you just absolutely determined to drink yourself to death, or is that just a pleasant side effect when it comes to your hobby of choice, Kell?" she asked, most of her abrasive, distrustful nature firmly back in place. She watched as Llana healed him, a little disapproving moue touching her lips as she did so. "He was here earlier" she said by way of explanation, realising that the cleric hadn't been in the room when the fey'ri had 'interogated' him. "Says he's here to help us - to help you, in fact." |
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| eocine | Jan 29 2007, 12:45 PM Post #138 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Caine had merely shrugged at the question of whether or not he could out-drink a Dwarf, having never met one in a social setting. When you’re raiding their caravan the last thing on most Dwarves minds would be inviting you for a drink. Especially when you’re looking at them through blood red eyes and have the gore of their comrades staining your claws. This fact though was not one to be brought up in polite company. Then there was the other issue, “and my name is Caine, not Wolfie.” Were he able to write he would probably had written it down for her by now. It said more about his peculiar mindset though that neither offence nor humour was taken from the name, he simply assumed that she was in some way incapable of remembering correctly. Though he was blessed with remarkable constitution, and near boundless strength, the organ that resided between his ears wasn’t exactly the sharpest, and he had a tendency towards a lack of imagination. Sitting idly in his seat Nalrid smiled through his beard, and turned his head towards his son’s, “Iffin’ ye want a contest then ye want t’ see me boys drink, they come from hardy stock… Their mother, Clangeddin rest her soul, could drink a room fulla yer finest under the floorboards!” Bhain and Azten just shrugged their shoulders at the paternal boasting for a moment, before grinning as one and crashing their mugs together, sending a shower of foaming ale down onto the table, inadvertently creating a new delicacy, apple and beer pie. They had been about to propose a contest, obviously a handicapped one, that put Fade and Caine versus them, two drinks to one each round, when the singing began, and put a momentary stop to that. None of the three Dwarves spoke any Elven at all, they were fluent speakers in most of the languages of their fellow earth dwellers, and had scarcely ever directly traded with any of the Elven settlements, and as such it had never seemed a valuable thing for them to learn. Still, whilst it was generally a little bit… Elfy for their tastes it was by no means unpleasant as a backdrop sound, it’s just that there was a general preference amongst them as a trio for songs of a martial, monetary or frankly downright lewd nature. It would therefore have been fair to assume that they feared the worst when Llana stood up. Some kind of ballad or other was coming, they were certain of it, and more than that they were dreading it, for what else would a cleric of a Goddess of love be singing about? Thankfully though they had misjudged her intentions entirely, and they cheered at the first lines of the song, ever willing to throw themselves into a damn good carousing. Whilst the song hadn’t found its way into the mines that they called home it seemed to be the type of song that would at least have a chorus that was easy to remember. A little thing like an Elf walking into the room and taking up the song was well wasn’t going to stop the Dwarves from getting full value out of the revelry, and they carried on regardless of the fact that Fade had stopped singing and was looking at the Elf with something akin to distaste. Caine on the other hand had stayed silent through the song, his eyes fixed on the drunk Elf… Though his own look was stripped entirely of both benevolence and malevolence, simply being curious at the strange figure. The song itself didn’t amuse him in the least, and he was mildly bewildered by the behaviour of the Dwarves, but said nothing. The Dwarves toasted the end of the song with a triple crash of ale-jars together, and then turned back to watch the goings on with the liquored up Elf. It certainly beat the normal standards of Dwarven cabaret that the mines provided for them… |
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| Darkwind | Jan 29 2007, 04:00 PM Post #139 |
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Native
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ooc: Perform(strings): 14[roll]+17[skill]+2[MW bonus]+1[elven handharp bonus]=34 Though the other man had the look of a professional bard to him, Avelaer wasn't about to give up that easily. Since they seemed more in the mood for something light-hearted, he decided upon a melody which was popular with his peers back in Evereska, a tune which always started a dance--although that might be less than wise given how drunk some of the others seemed to be. Still, it would be better than this crude and unsubtle bawdy song they'd just finished. He fingers flew over the harp, giving a lively tune well-suited to dancing to. If the other elf took this as a challenge, which it was, perhaps he'd get a chance to show them why he's a bladedancer. |
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| eocine | Jan 29 2007, 09:17 PM Post #140 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Kellindel lolled back in the chair, his eyes rolling back momentarily as if they were bobbing up and down on the sheer level of booze that he had in his body. Fade’s question had originally virtually bounced off the mental armor coating that the drink had given him, but it finally seemed to penetrate his senses, and he turned his head back towards the Fey’ri, giving her a slightly blank look for a few seconds before smiling in recognition, somehow managing to completely miss both her tone and her distinctly unimpressed facial expression. It did have to be said though that he actually made a better fist of keeping his eyes tilted up this time. “I wouldn’t say I’m determined to do it”, he replied with the somber seriousness of a drunk trying to hold a half way civilized conversation. “Nor would my death be a pleasant one!” Pointed out the Elf, momentarily on the verge of being slightly offended, but guessing incorrectly that no offence was supposed to be given. He’d been about to say more when Llana’s hand lightly pressed down onto his shoulder and a wave of divine energy flooded through him. And suddenly the world was brought into sharper focus, and his head cleared. It was not a welcome change at all. Being removed from the world of the fuzzy drunk into the land of the soberly living was a journey that nobody enjoyed, and they found that once they had been dragged back there that all they wished to do was get back into the warmth of an alcoholic haze. Further than that though his beer goggles were instantly swiped away, and he saw Fade in her true shape for the first time…. It was to his credit though that he didn’t flinch at the sight of her, given that all he could really remember was a lot of red hair, a tail and a great rack. They were, thankfully, all still there. Especially the rack. But they had been joined by fangs and what looked like redish scales of some sort… Also the smile that he remembered well had also vanished, and had been replaced by a look that was a little less than a glare. Clearly he had some work to do there before he would have a chance… But he did like a challenge… Not as much as he liked a sure thing of course. In fact a whole lot less than he liked a sure thing. Actually… No. He didn’t like a challenge. He in fact much preferred to have to do no work at all. But you couldn’t pick and choose, and if there was a challenge then he would take it. Though you could be sure that Skafloc would have to hear about it. Llana’s musical voice distracted him from these considerations, and he turned to face his ‘savior’ from the scourge of drink, momentarily prepared to voice something accusatory. This tone was lost as soon as he turned around to face the Sunite priestess, and was literally stuck momentarily dumb by her beauty. Luckily he recovered quickly enough to give her a very genuine smile, “delighted to meet you… Actually I am of course delighted to make your acquaintance, and need to thank you for the spell use. Tragically someone spiked my drink with something far more potent than my frail and sexy form could handle.” “Indeed I am”, he rose easily and bowed to Llana before taking her hand and bowing low over it, ignoring the sigh of derision that came from the dark haired fellow sat at the table. “Kellindel Innovandil, bard of the bow, at your service.” As had been stated earlier Kellindel didn’t like challenges, but rather than rise to them his tendency was to try to ignore them. This being so at Avelaer’s exceptional harp play he turned to the blade-singer with a look of genuine pleasure, “exceptional work my friend! You play like a dream!” He clapped enthusiastically, “play on player!” |
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| Castamir | Jan 29 2007, 11:14 PM Post #141 |
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Native
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Skafloc took a deep breath and pulled aside the heavy fur that blocked the windows. He blinked momentarily as the icy cold air struck his face, making his eyes water. Unbelievable.. he wondered at the illusion, for that was what he was sure it must be. The landscape visible to him was familiar, but it can't have been familiar to anyone else. Anyone else alive that was. It was the location of a hunting lodge used by his tribe, a particularly distant and high up lodge. The view was spectacular, and he'd almost forgotten how spectacular. The frustration was that he knew the door would simply lead him back to the hallway in the magical construct they were currently sheltering in. He opened the other window, and sat down by the fire, taking another mouthful of the dwarf ale. It was even good ale. Perhaps there was something to religion afterall, if this was the sort of service the devout could expect. He returned to his prone position on the floor and stared back through the hole in the hide roof again. Fade's parting comment came back to him, 'dream of large women' she had said. He smiled, it was a commen misconception that Kellindel had voiced in the past, sure northern women were 'rugged', but his own woman had been nothing more than statuesque. His smile widened, before her father had finally caved in to their resistance, their disobedience and downright stubborness and let them wed, he'd snuck off to the lodge that his room so resembled with Megrim more times that he could remember. She was an able huntress in her own right, and as teenagers their rivalry had been the first thing that drew them together. Each time the young warrior had faced a good kicking from her father if discovered at the lodge, and worse if the full story had been revealed, but Skafloc had been posessed of a ridiculous disregard for danger even then, although back then it had only been when it mattered. He took a long breath, and let it out slowly. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 30 2007, 04:43 PM Post #142 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade said nothing to the bard's response, more interested in what Lana would make of the bard's presence. As the half-elf cast her spell, Kellindel may not have flinched after his forced journey to sober-dom, but Fade straight away noticed the look on his face freeze when he turned to regard her and took in her more prominent physical demonic traits. She'd seen it many times before, most of the time on the faces of various fullbloods when they realised exactly what she was. Jumping to the only conclusion she knew, the fey'ri shook her hair from her face, quirked and eyebrow and simply stared back in open challenge, steeling herself for any subsequent scorn or abuse from the elf - whaich was, after all, the norm wherever demonbloods and fullbloods met. She did however glance over to Karosin when Kellindel began to quite openly flirt with Llana. As small and quite frankly wicked smile touched her lips: Ooh, you don't want to be doing that, my dear... you don't want to be upsetting Karosin, the very definition of One Who Doesn't Play Well With Others.... Avelaer then struck up a new tune upon his harp; it was a lively tune and obviously well played, but this was a little, well, refined compared to the music the fey'ri was used to dancing to. Instead, she raised a glass to the dwarves; a universal sign in any tavern. "You boys want anything?" |
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| Pamela | Jan 30 2007, 08:08 PM Post #143 |
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Molly
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Llana looked away from Kellindel at Fade’s unusual remark. “Help me?” she repeated, wondering how in the world the temple could have even found out about her death. She looked back down at their new companion with a great deal of curiosity. She smiled warmly at his response, glad that the elf wasn’t furious with her at the sudden cure. She then laughed at his ridiculous charge of ‘spiking’, and added with a touch of humourous, bitchy warning, “Then it’s a good thing that I’m around to make sure that it doesn’t happen again…” The Sunite looked up at the new song, and said, “Thank you, Avelaer.” She called for the servants to present some dishes for their new guest; dessert was hardly a way to begin eating and fighting the next round of drink. She patted his arm, and then returned to her seat, shaking her head in amusement at Karosin’s expression. She touched his arm before resuming her seat, and turned back to their new guest. “The others didn’t tell us about your presence here. Were you here long? And where did you come from?” |
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| eocine | Jan 30 2007, 09:18 PM Post #144 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As Fade shook her hair away and regarded him Kellindel felt a sudden and distinctly unashamed pulse of eroticism, which was probably not the most normal reaction that one of the People would have had on regarding the fiend-kin Elf, but then again Kellindel was hardly a typical example of Elven sensibilities. “So you must be a Tiefling then”” He looked at her more closely, taking in her Elven features and then correcting himself, “or perhaps not.” His head tilted to the side curiously as he watched her again, taking the measure of the stare and merely smiling in return. “So…” He groped for something more to say to the Fey’ri, “I guess that you’re probably wondering if I’m about to launch myself over the table at you?” He gave her a questioning facial shrug, “well I can assure you that I don’t intend on doing that, it wouldn’t be dignified and I’m of course all about dignity”. “Also my trousers are a little tight and I’d worry about splitting them at the seams, and I do so worry for my personal dignity.” He then turned back to Llana, “I’m sorry my darling but I doubt that even one as lovely as you is capable of stopping the booze fairies that plague me from adulterating my drinks again. They’re both quick and crafty, and never seem to be catchable by anyone!” It went without saying of course that he picked up on her tone, but he didn’t see any need to reply in kind, preferring the non confrontational method… Finding himself unusually hungry the bard immediately started to devour his way through a plate of roast potatoes, his stomach gleefully accepting something that didn’t have an alcohol content. “Well… I was here long enough to get bored and start drinking”, he replied to Llana’s question, with a trace of ruefulness in his voice. “But then it never actually takes long for me to get bored so that’s not really a surprise.” “As for where I came from? Hither and yon, I am but a leaf borne on the winds of time…” He was, as most congenital show offs tend to, really enjoying his time in the spotlight… “but seriously I… Umm, have debts with your church, and they decided that I might be able to be some use here.” Momentarily he looked shamefaced, before grinning again, “also I think they wanted me out of the way, though I can’t think why, what with my winning personality and all!” clicked his fingers together, and pointed both index fingers at the sky before winking. |
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| eocine | Jan 30 2007, 10:40 PM Post #145 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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It was with a virtually unfathomably deep sense of disappointment that Karosin slid the dagger back into his wrist sheath and clipped the holding strap back into place. Unfortunately the Elf seemed to be of no immediate danger, and would thus have to be suffered to live for a little bit longer, for no matter how hard he tried the former assassin could find no acceptably justifiable reason for having the buffoon silenced. And he really was trying very hard indeed to think of any reason. He watched through boredom-narrowed eyes as the Elf flirted with his wife and the demoness… Better men than the bard had tried in the past, and so he wasn’t overly worried about the likelihood of the imbecile actually achieving any kind of success in entrancing her in anyway. The only thing that bothered him was the potential for disrespect to be shown to either himself or Llana, and that he wouldn’t stand for… Still the fool had at least kept a civil tongue in his head, which was as well for him or he would prove to be likely to lose it. It did have to be added though that if Karosin had murdered someone every time they flirted with his wife then the Sunite temple would have been virtually empty by now, of both male and female priests, and as such he was more or less forced to adapt with the situation as it presented itself. That didn’t mean of course that those who were considered to cross the line considered themselves to be in any way, shape or form to be fortunate. His idle musing was interrupted by a chorus of cheers from the Dwarves and a volley of shouted drinks orders in response to Fade’s offer, and he winced with disgust at their boisterous antics, but expected little better from the sub-ground sub-humans anyway. He’d never liked Dwarves, finding their stolid natures and bullheadedness to be nothing more than willful ignorance and stupidity. That the bardic braggart proved to be there to aid them in some way brought a decidedly frank look of disbelief, as all that he could imagine the fool being useful for was as a demi-human shield. Still he did have enough trust in his wife to decide for herself if this was in keeping with the Miracle that had been prayed for, and as such didn’t worry more than usual at the explanation. Of course this confidence was aided by the fact that if it proved to be a lie he would kill the Elf without hesitation anyway. A lack of moral compunction about the death of potential enemies made for cleaner cut edges… |
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| Mistress Elysia | Jan 31 2007, 05:24 PM Post #146 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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"Launch across the table? And get risk breaking a fingernail?" Fade near sneered, displaying an almost dwarfish level of contempt for the completely stereotypical elven preccupation with cleanliness. She knew that is was just that - a stereotype - but she also knew that most elves didn't like the slur and that it did tend to rub a lot of them up the wrong way, a passtime the maligned rogue had rather come to enjoy over the past few months; whether her antagonistic attitude was just a simple defence mechanism against the open hatred and disgust most of the People afforded her race or just simply that she liked to bait people and cause arguments wasn't entirely clear, most of all to the fey'ri herself. "I'm actually expecting you to try to stick a dagger in my back when no one is looking... or maybe drag me off to one of those stupid Tribunals for crimes against everything elven." Keeping an eye on Kellindel to see if she had managed to spark a reaction, Fade uncurled herself out of her seat and leant across the table, collecting the dwarves glasses. "As for your diginity, I wouldn't worry too much; if it did happen, I really do doubt anyone would really notice..." She then got up, made her way over to the drinks cabinet and began pouring out the various orders she had taken. For a moment, she had no idea exactly why she wanted to get a rise out of the elf - any elf, for that matter. It wasn't that she hadn't tried to get a rise out of Avelaer - she had, but he seemed far too sensible or was simply disinclined to rise to her bait... this one, however, might be a different matter. |
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| eocine | Jan 31 2007, 10:02 PM Post #147 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Actually…” Kellindel spread his fingers apart and scrutinized his nails intensely, biting his lip as he did so, “you’re right.” He looked back up at her cheerily, “it would be a total travesty to risk snagging one of them, I mean I only had them painted last week, and it’s a damn nuisance to try and get good quality nail paint this far away from the Heartlands.” His eyes fell back onto his still spread fingers, and he gave a clearly overacted and thoroughly fey gasp as he seemed to spot a piece of dirt beneath one of them, hurriedly then scratching it away and wiping the offending speck onto the table, before looking up at Fade again and giving her an over-bright grin. “ME?!?” Replied the slouching Elf with a laugh at Fade’s apparent suspicion that he would stick a knife into her back, or drag her before some form of Elven court. “Yeah, I’ve got to tell you that I would be more likely to flick a tarrasque’s balls with a wet towel than get involved in anything that formal”, to stress this point he shivered with unfeigned horror. Of course there was something that he would very much have liked to do to her from behind, but he judges wisely that this was probably not the moment to make such suggestions… “I reckon they would actually, you see unfortunately all of my under-shorts needed washing and so I had to borrow some off somebody else… Unfortunately the kindly Priestess of Sune who let me some of her undergarments has something of a taste for things on the small and lacy side…” He turned and grinned at Llana, “though I have no idea if this is typical throughout the church?” He shook himself out of speculation, “but anyway it’s fair to say that they look slightly peculiar on me, but at least they give me adequate support and comfort.” “And of course I’m only wearing them for the comfort factor… Yes, just the comfort…” |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 1 2007, 08:23 PM Post #148 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Glancing back to the table from the drinks cabinet, Fade narrowed her eyes, her tail beginning to flick from side to side as she quickly smothered an almost involuntary sneer that twitched at her top lip. In a fit of piqued irritation that the elf wasn't as easily baited as she had hoped he would be, she helped herself to a top up and tossed it back, the alcohol making her cheeks burn for a moment, and then refilled it ready to take back to the table. So, the bard wanted to play nonchalant... "Yes. I can imagine that would be a problem, what with pink being a colour that suits you oh-so perfectly and all... Not that the rest of us worry; I mean, when you've got dragons to slay and demonfey to teach various lessons to, one doesn't get the time to pay much attention to the, shall we say, 'little' things in life." Collecting the various glasses she had re-filled, the fey'ri turned back to the group and, offering up a venemously sweet smile, sauntered back to the table. She set the first drink down in front of Nalrid and gave him a genuine grin. "There you go, squire - a fine brew if ever I saw one." The grin then slid back into its former vicious depths at the mention of Kellindel's current choice of undergarments. She continued round the table, setting drinks down as she went. "Well, I have to admit, I thought lace was just part of being elven. Like tree hugging and being over-friendly with the local wildlife." She laughed, a light, almost tinkling sound. "And there was me, thinking such things were all perfectly normal and simply just a lifestyle choice for you male fullbloods. Well, you live and learn, as they say..." Once she had distributed everything, the rogue lingered for a moment behind the bard, bending slightly over his left shoulder and murmered directly into one pointed ear. "...although I have to say, I normally eschew. I personally just hate small, irritating things that just insist on riding up... don't you?" |
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| eocine | Feb 1 2007, 08:54 PM Post #149 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“You think pink is my colour?” He batted his eyelids at the Fey’ri and gave her a beaming smile, “truly? I’ve always been partial to a bit of pink myself, and it’s nice to know that it’s a colour that actually works with my complexion.” In truth Kellindel wasn’t actually one for wearing pink, except occasionally for exceptionally decorative purposes. “Still you shouldn’t neglect personal grooming, no matter what danger you face, for you never know who you’ll meet on your travels, and you wouldn’t want to look anything less than spec-tac-u-lar in the face of imminent death would you dah-ling?” He lounged back into the chair and tossed a stray grape into his mouth before stretching his arms up over his head and yawning, a broad grin reappearing on his face as it settled once more, and he watched Fade pick her way around the table setting drinks down. One thing was certain, that he could keep doing this all night. He had a virtually limitless supply of drivel that he could spout. It was one of his most impressive skills. “Well… I think it’s something that gets ignored by a lot of the people who aren’t People, that basically all animals are coquettish little sluts who’re asking for some damn good Elven love.” He replied drolly, “and besides which once you’d seen someone with a centaur everything seems slightly tamer and more acceptable after that.” This wasn’t the time to mention that it was pretty clear that her ancestors had been plenty happy to drop their knickers for the demonic horde, and that people in glass houses should perhaps not hurl rocks about. Actually, that could be considered to apply to me, he thought to himself with an internal laugh at the fact that he had hardly restricted himself entirely to Elves, Humans and Half-Elves himself. As Fade whispered into his ear he became instantly aware of one overriding curiosity. That of course being whether or not she was wearing anything beneath her trousers. It was with some regret that he pushed his mind out of that particular alley, and back onto the topic of conversation. “I’ve heard that having things ride up their can be enjoyable”, was his lying response, the lie of course being that he actually had experienced such things, but guessing this wasn’t the time to share that piece of knowledge. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 1 2007, 09:40 PM Post #150 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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"Centaurs? You should try Glabrezu..." the fey'ri muttered, almost to herself. She then straightened herself up and near stalked back to her seat, her irritation at not being able to get a rise now at near flash-point - an ironic situation that Fade herself simply did not see. Curling herself back up into her chair, her glass in one hand and the bottle from which she was refilling it from cradled in her lap, Fade tried to re-settle a mask of amused indifference upon her face as the elf yet again dodged her bait and twisted into yet another annoyingly laid back response. Once, one memorable evening a long while past, she'd used this particular line of nasty accusations with a group of moon elves and had been, much to her own amusement, able to clear them all out of a tavern in less time than it had taken her to sink her pint, but this one... she took another mouthful of her drink to try to smother her annoyance. "I'll have to take your word for it, bard... afterall, I would imagine you the expert - occupational hazards and everything. Or maybe it's just the pink nail paint?" |
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| eocine | Feb 1 2007, 09:44 PM Post #151 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Nalrid and his boys were finding some of the conversation between the Elf and the Daemon-Fey rather hard to follow, frankly a life in the mines led to a certain amount of sheltered naivety about the more wild and wacky goings on in the outside world, but they could all see enough to know that there was a lot going unsaid between them. They just couldn’t work out what it was, one was continually baiting the other, whilst the other just responded in a slanted way to make the other push again, and there seemed to be no real way to solve the discussion, and it seemed to be a lot of superfluous jabbering. Which was something of an anathema to the direct and straight to the point mindset of the Dwarves. Still the crimson haired woman had brought around another round of drinks, and that certainly deserved a hearty cheer of thanks before the quaffing could begin anew. They were about to ask the long haired human if he wanted to join in, but Caine finished his mug of ale before standing and stepping away from the table. Months of nightmarish and fractured sleep was starting to catch up to him, and even as he sat there and listened to the fairy-Elf he found his eyelids growing heavy, and a definite desire to fall into the first nights sleep in far too long where he didn’t have a huge pair of nails hammered through his wrists. “Good night to you all,” He said simply, “and good hunting for tomorrow”. With that he walked away from the table and up the stairs towards his own room. It felt like his eyelids were covered in sandpaper every time he blinked as he went up the stairs, and he could feel the weight of his exhaustion upon him like a blanket. The door to his room swung open easily and he stepped inside, pausing for a moment to toss another log on the fire and strip away his clothes before he clambered onto the fur covered bed and draped himself in the thick hide of a buffalo. In no time at all he was asleep, his lycanthropic nature in full evidence as he curled up in a ball in a way that could easily be considered canine. |
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| eocine | Feb 1 2007, 10:00 PM Post #152 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Glabrezu?” He looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow, as if he hadn’t been thinking that very thing himself only moments previously. “I’d imagine that they would be a little too bruising for my tastes, and large pincers do not make good bedfellows I’d imagine…” Observed the Elf, who looked for the very world as if he were truly trying to visualize the kind of thing that would have to go on. I wonder if they’re ‘in proportion’? Because if they are then the women must struggle to walk for a week afterwards, he considered, keeping in mind that Glabrezu’s were indeed physically imposing beings, and his people weren’t exactly known for their physical size. And there was also a distinct lack of Elven women with good birthing hips… Again though, the question of demonic girth was probably one for another time. He knew one thing though, the fellow that followed up that was bound to feel slightly intimidated by the comparison. “Well yes”, he nodded with a faux rueful look on his face, “Unfortunately my fey good looks have meant that I’ve been confused for a member of the fairer sex on more than one occasion, especially on those occasional where I have ended up unfairly incarcerated, and as the old prison saying goes, ‘any port in a storm’.” “Hell it doesn’t even have to be a port either if the weather’s bad enough, sometimes a beach will suffice… Which of course leads us back to tree hugging.” He winked back at her, taking advantage of the happy wordplay of beech and beach. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 2 2007, 08:46 PM Post #153 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Deciding that any conversation regarding the more physical traits of Glabrezu was hardly suitable post-dinner talk, Fade just shrugged. She'd thankfully managed to avoid the attentions of the larger Tana'ri - well, up until the point when Sarya demanded that she made her own little contribution to the fey'ri cause resulting in Fade's rather emphatic refusal to submit to such a fate and consequent punishment, of course - but had known others who hadn't and still had the scars to prove it. Again, the blasted elf turned a perfectly good insult into a self-interested anecdote; only the presence of the others and the fact that she was determined not to be the one who turned their nice, relaxing evening in to an all-out fist-fight - mainly for Llana's sake, who, after the shock of earlier events, Fade was certain needed a little bit of peace from any kind of violence. Still, the niggling urge to call Kellindel outside and give him a damn good hiding for simply being irritatingly unshakeable and even tempered was like one of those itches you just couldn't quite reach to scratch; small, insistent, bloody annoying and each time you thought you'd got it, it just sprung straight back up again. By the time the bard had managed to turn the conversation back to tree hugging via quite a terrible pun, the rogue was simply glaring at him again through narrowed eyes. She was vaguely aware through her piqued alcoholic fug that all she had to so was shut up and this would all end, but that would be admitting defeat - and admitting defeat was something she wasn't good at at all. So instead, she tried one of the last arrows in her quiver of verbal offense: just being downright rude. "What?! What drivel are you on about now?" she asked in an exasperated tone of voice... ... which stopped dead as soon as he winked at her. At that, the demon inside her flared up. Forgetting her own former promise not to do anything that would upset the relative peace and in turn Llana, the fey'ri near leapt out of her chair and marched around to the other side of the table, her tail now lashing wildly, and ignoring all the polite rules regarding personal space, stuck her face a mere half inch from the elf's, her voice a low growl. "Do that again and I'll kick your arse from here to Kara Tur and back again. Got it?" |
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| eocine | Feb 2 2007, 09:22 PM Post #154 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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As Fade marched her way around the table the look on Kellindel’s face was still exceedingly affable, and that look wasn’t even lost when she treated him to a rather over enthusiastic close-up of her distinctly unfriendly face. Still faint heart never won fair maiden, only a veritable parade of foul ones that left you with an itch that could only be removed by a visit to the local temple, and as such he didn’t quail in the least at this overtly aggressive display, in fact if anything his smile seemed to widen somewhat for a moment. Only for a moment though, as his face soon assumed a quizzical cast at her statement… Clearly there was something that needed to be pointed out here, and he wouldn’t be the Elf he thought he was if he let it slide… “Oooo… Not sure about that, you see it’s a lot of nautical miles to Kara-Tur, and kicking anyone through the water isn’t easy, you’d probably have to buy a boat, and even then there’d be no certainties that you were going to be able to literally kick my divinely pert posterior ‘from here to Kara-Tur’, after all it’d sink before long, and getting anything from the bottom of the oceans is the devils own work.” He turned his head away from the angry face of Fade and addressed the others, “Funny story about that actually. I was doing a bit of pirate hunting off the coast of Luskan once, and we got into a bit of a dispute with a pirate ship that had recently attacked a trade vessel.” “Naturally as a fellow of virtually innumerable talents I managed to slay the captain of the other vessel, who was carrying a small treasure chest under his arm and was about to drop into one of the smaller ships lashed to his frigate.” If he was aware of the presence of danger literally inches from his face he showed nil signs still… “Anyway I sent an arrow through his heart”, he said with the faux nonchalance of one trying to be subtle about his bragging, “and he dropped into the ocean like a stone followed by the small chest.” “Now here’s where it got interesting”, he continued to ramble, impervious to threats and a bored audience both, “It seemed that the fellow had been paid top dollar by the Zhents to dig up some info on the Arcane Brotherhood and the Pirate Lords of Luskan, and it was this we were looking for.” He gave a minimalist shrug, as if concerned he would accidentally hit Fade with a shoulder, “There was immediate concern that the chest had held the report, and so there was an almighty scrambling to try and recover them, but it was to no avail at all.” He shook his head as if to add emphasis to the disappointment, “In the end I was roped into talking with the Sea Elves and trading with them for the safe return of the chest…” Which reminds me you have a lovely chest, he thought in Fade’s general direction, pausing for a moment in the story as he fought for control over his eyes, “Anyway, we paid a huge amount for this chest, but the lock was magical and we couldn’t open it till we got back to port, and took it to the nearest wizard, we all huddled around close whilst he worked his magic, and the top of the chest slid open…” “To reveal his stinking laundry and a set of ‘artistic’ nude drawings entitled, ‘Fey Princesses at Play’.” He gave a nod to the audience before turning back towards Fade, suddenly looking mildly perturbed. “Sorry I’ve totally forgotten what it was you wanted?” Grinned the Elf ingratiatingly. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 2 2007, 11:19 PM Post #155 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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At the bard's was seemingly unperturbed state towards her very open threat, Fade knew that this was the time when she either smacked the elf or left the room - it had to be one or the other, or she simpy felt as if she would explode. She had absolutely no idea why this elf in particular irritated her so much; she just knew she had a massive urge to 'win' whatever unspoken challenge he had presented her, and that a good half of her irritation was simply that, whether she wanted to admit it or not, he was winning by the simple fact that he was managing quite happily to keep in his temper in light of her insults whilst her own temper had flared up almost as soon as he had sobered up enough to string a coherant sentence together. The fey'ri stood behind Kellindel for the entirety of his stupid, self-indulgent story, her arms folded over her chest and her tail still lashing. The moment he said the 'magic' words - Arcane Brotherhood - she let out an entirely involuntary low growl. Bad enough she had to deal with cocky bards without them mentioning the one organisation other than her own people that she'd like to have 10 minutes alone with in a locked room stuffed full of various torture devices... although she had to admit that the elven bard was fast joining both the Arcane Brotherhood and her kin in that particular list. The final straw began when the bard looked back to her, his eyes obviously fixed firmly upon her cleavage. However, rather than turn away, the fey'ri uncrossed her arms and planted her hands upon her hips, still staring at him in obvious open challenge: Just let him say something... please... come on, any excuse... When he then turned back and continued his silly tale without saying a thing, she felt an acute pulse of anger, but at what, she couldn't fathom. The story ended on a predictably terribly twee ending, something that Kellindel seemed to think was amusing and at which Fade snorted in derision. When he turned back to her, she felt her pulse quicken: Maybe that's all that was needed - deride his pathetic stories... Not so, or so it seemed. "You've forgotten what I wanted?" she hissed. "What I wanted? Right now, it's you, outside, at ten paces..." |
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| eocine | Feb 2 2007, 11:37 PM Post #156 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth Kellindel had the foresight to take a mental snapshot of Fade’s form when she planted her hands on her hips, secure in the knowledge that it would be well remembered. Contrary to potential first impressions he wasn’t a total gibbering imbecile, but he was well enough used to brinksmanship to use it in virtually any type of scenario. And besides which some of his best ever nights had come between the legs of someone who loathed him… “I’m honestly flattered that you think ten paces is a possibility”, he said, pleased. “But in truth there’s no way in the nine hells I could err… Extend to that, well short of some kind of Polymorphing magics getting involved anyway… .” Said the Elf cheerfully, “also it does have to be pointed out that you’re being remarkably forwards, I can count on the fingers of only fifteen hands the times that a beautiful woman as wanted me outside with such urgency, and at least half of those were distinctly memorable experiences.” “Or are the ten paces how much of a run up I’ll be getting?” |
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| Darkwind | Feb 3 2007, 01:30 AM Post #157 |
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Native
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The fey'ri was clearly spoiling for a fight, so Avelaer cast about for some way to distract her. Greg, he noticed, reacted to her storming to within an inch of the bard's face by taking out a piece of glass and toying with it. He'd seen the sorcerer do that before, when he turned that tiefling spellcaster into a statue. It might be temporary or reversible, but he decided nonetheless to try to make it unnecessary. He hit upon the idea of complimenting her fairly formidable skill at bladework--praise he was certain she was not used to getting. Finding a lull in the increasingly heated conversation, he spoke up. "Fade, I've seen the way you fight. Very impressive. Though our styles differ, of course, there are some similarities in the way you study your opponents during combat to predict their attacks and defenses. Would you mind showing me some of your techniques? I'd be glad to share something of the art of the bladesingers, in return." |
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| Pamela | Feb 3 2007, 08:34 AM Post #158 |
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Molly
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Llana rose from her seat, and said dryly, “It’s been a pleasant evening. Fade, Kellindel- a reminder not to step outside or you’ll not be able to re-enter and rest, or worse, ruin it for those of us who are trying to,” she said, thinking of Skafloc and Caine. “And try not to destroy the furniture. I rather enjoy our surroundings and would like to continue to do so until we have to leave.” She was tired of infighting and had no desire to be involved in it any further. She bowed her head to all those present, and promptly left the room. In the hall, she took a deep breath, and began to consider which of the doors to explore. She had no intention of retiring to her room just yet; she was tense, and far from tired. Sleep still seemed to close to death for her to be willing to lie still just yet. The first door to her left was a small library, and she sighed with relief. “Block out all sound,” she called out, as she stepped into the room. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 3 2007, 10:47 AM Post #159 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Realising far too late that she had fallen into a rather deep pit trap of her own devising, and even more embarrassingly, had fallen into it in front of a whole host of people, Fade took a step back and even though she was seething inside, did something the others probably weren't expecting her to do. She blushed. "In your dreams, elf. You wouldn't know what to do with me." the fey'ri spat back to Kellindel, only to be confused when another melodious elven voice chimed in to the conversation, this one much more placating in tone. "You what?" she answered Avelaer, frankly baffled as to why he wanted to talk about swordplay, deperately seeking for yet another trap. "My technique? I don't have a technique. I just do what feels right. Why? What are you implying?" she replied, her tone accusatory and guarded, expecting another attempt at tripping her up over her own words, her eyes darting back from one elf to the other, a slightly hunted expression on her face. Then Llana stood up. As she did so, Fade's head snapped up and upon catching the weary look of resigned annoyance upon her face, quickly looked away again, her former fury and embarrassment now twisting into a sharp, piercing twinge of shame deep with in her chest. Llana had needed rest and relaxation, not arguments and posturing. Before the fey'ri could apologise, however, the Sunite had made her exit. "Llana! Wait..." she called after the half elf's departing form before dragging her attention back to the table. Unable to meet anyone's eyes at this point and the prospect of a nice drink now having lost its charm, the fey'ri quick-stepped her way from the room, following Llana, but found the corridor empty, much to her dismay. Unsure of what to do next - although she was tired, she wasn't tired enough to just flake out and therefore avoid the inevitable hour or so of lying in bed, creating increasingly elaborate paranoid fantasies about her mess of a life as each minute ticked past, but also not really wanting to face the others back in the dining room after what was possibly not her finest moment to date - Fade simply leant against a wall and slid slowly to the ground feeling decidedly odd, trying to fathom out exactly what had happened only moments earlier. She knew she had a temper - one that frequently got her into all kinds of trouble - but she hadn't flared up quite like that in a long time. Trying to puzzle her way through her feelingls, she thought of each person who occupied the room in turn, each one eliciting nothing more than a deep seated sense of shame and an urge to apologise... each one of them, apart from the bard of course - the thought of him sent a sharp jolt of irritation and an acute desire to do him some violence through her. At that, she froze, a look of horror creeping across her face. Violence was a way of life for her kind; it invariably figured in near enough all aspects of their existence, and the desire to pick fights with people normally came in three forms: bloodlust, boredom and... Fade groaned, feeling a trifle nauseous. "Oh, shit..." |
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| Pamela | Feb 3 2007, 04:42 PM Post #160 |
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Molly
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Llana heard her name being called as she closed the door. She hesitated for a moment, but irritation and a touch of spite compelled her to continue with the gesture. She turned to face the door, trying to find the courage and good humour to reopen it. . Why bother? So you can get a drunken excuse and then watch it all start all over again in a couple of minutes when Kellindel pipes up with another outrageous statement, or Greg decides to lecture Fade on her fey’ri ways? For Goddess’ sake, it’s bad enough having to clear up arguments after Karosin without having to watch over everyone else too… She sighed for a moment, and then braced her shoulders before opening the door. While she was mortal and entitled to fits of pique, she was also a priestess of Sune, and walking away from a scene when things got ugly without trying to bring harmony to the situation was utterly wrong. It also didn’t help when there was a danger of fight, one involving a woman who’d clearly emerged from an ugly history that extended beyond the moment the group had intruded upon when they’d first met her. She smiled wryly to herself. I can also just tell them to stop acting like bloody fools too, if required… She saw the crimson-headed woman crouched on the floor, and moved quietly towards her. “I am sorry, Fade; I did hear you but I was being a bit of a child there.” She knelt down beside the woman, grimacing as she leaned awkwardly on her left arm to compensate for the imbalance. “I tell you, tomorrow morning cannot come soon enough,” she groused, scowling at her right side. She then turned to the drunken rogue, and asked quietly, “Are you all right? Unfortunately, I don’t have another spell, but I do have some powders in my bag upstairs if it will help.” The distress that seemed to emanate from Fade wasn’t connected to her physical health, but Llana was chary to broach her about personal matters just yet. The fey'ri had revealed her volatile nature, and it wouldn't help to have either a show of bravado or disdain right now. She lay her hand upon the woman’s knee, and said, “There’s a small library in there if you’d like somewhere a bit more comfortable, and quiet, to sit.” |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 4 2007, 12:46 PM Post #161 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Still wrestling with her own thoughts and not paying attention at all to her surroundings, the demonfey started a little at Llana's voice, looking up sharply. Realising that the Sunite was actually apologising to her, Fade offered up a rather small, shame-faced smile. "Please - just don't, okay? Just... don't apologise. You've got every right to want to get away - if I were you, I wouldn't have come back. I was behaving disgustingly in there - I should be the one saying sorry to you. You've got enough on your plate right now without the rest of us piling more crap on to it." She paused for a brief moment and stared to the floor frowning, not sure how to carry on and not wanting to burden Llana with what were the fey'ri's own failings, but at the same time wanting to explain a little of why she was the way she was. Well, not all of it. Warm day in Cania before I'd even consider even alluding to one iota of that... "Yeah, I'm okay. Been and done worse." she grinned ruefully as she stood up. "It's just... it's... it's not easy, you know." she began, trying to feel her way through her explanation without giving too much away that could be used against her. "Each time I think I've got it sorted, something like that happens. I don't know why it happens..." well, that's at least a half truth - just because I kind of know the reasons, doesn't mean I understand them... "The demon... the part of me that is demonic... she just goes nuts sometimes. I've spent ages trying to get her under control, and each time I think I've succeeded, some complete bastard comes along and just totally rubs her up the wrong way. Or the right way. I don't know - it's hard to tell most of the time. Everything is just so... Gah!" the fey'ri grabbed two handfuls of her long crimson hair in the universal gesture of acute frustration. "Half the time I haven't got a damn clue what I'm doing. I just react and end up doing complete and utter stupid shit." She dropped her hands from her head and leant back against the wall, closing her eyes. "It never used to be this bad; back in the Hellgate, you just did what you pleased. Half the time no one cared, and even if what you did might upset someone, as long as you weren't found out, there was no problem." she turned her head and looked at the priestess. "And then I find myself out here, surrounded by laws and rules, most of it all unwritten stuff that you lot have had drummed into you since birth and so don't even realise you're obeying them..." The fey'ri then looked away again and sighed as she stared off into the distance. "I... I know the fey'ri way is wrong, Llana, but I have to admit it was so much easier..." |
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| eocine | Feb 4 2007, 02:17 PM Post #162 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Actually I have a few ideas”, he said cheerily as she stepped back and started to blush. And boy did he have a LOT of ideas as to what he’d do with her. And the Drow who’d been around earlier. And the Priestess of Sune as well. In fact and virtually any other half way attractive woman that he might happen across in the course of the day. Still, not the right time for that to be mentioned at all, still there was always time in the future... He stopped talking then as Avelaer interjected, feeling slightly piqued that the fellow had decided to interject, and not really realising that it had actually been for his own good that his fellow Elf had spoken up. When Fade flicked her eyes from the blade-singer to himself he just gave her a good natured and cheerful shrug, in the absence of anything better to do. Still, one interesting thing had turned up from the sword-master’s interjection, the information that the fellow was a blade-singer, the melee half of the Elven warrior ways, as opposed to the distance fighters, the arcane archers, of which he himself was one, albeit a slightly unusual one given his path to get there. At the point that the Priestess rose to leave Kellindel looked, and indeed was, mildly unsure as to what the reasoning was, entirely unable to comprehend that his own actions with the fey’ri had in any way played a part in her departure. To be honest the thought of destroying anything had been the last thing on his mind, and there was less than no chance of his leaving until he had to. He’d learned enough to cherish surroundings that contained no danger, and thus wasn’t ever eager to leave them. When Fade followed behind Llana he watched her ass unashamedly, wondering again what the tail could be used for, before turning to his fellow Elf. “A blade-singer?” He asked redundantly, “I am honored to make your acquaintance, I apologise but I never did catch your name?” He phrased the statement into a question. |
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| Pamela | Feb 4 2007, 02:53 PM Post #163 |
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Molly
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Llana hesitated at the fey’ri’s first words, then relaxed, smiling, as well as shaking her own head. She held her tongue for the moment though. She was grateful for Fade’s concern for her, if not also slightly embarrassed, and she began to chide herself. Death is traumatic, and of course, dramatic. But the Sunite also knew that there was no comparison between the day that either had had, really- or the last year, she was betting. As she listened to the crimson-haired woman’s account, she couldn’t help but chide herself further. She squeezed the woman’s knee, smiling as she said, “You will find this hard to believe, Fade, but I am quite impressed by how well you’ve held yourself together after the day you’ve had. You were chased by those men, hurt by me, threatened by my party- and you still can speak kindly to me.” She laughed in admiring wonder as she remarked, “If it had been myself, you all would still have been receiving the cold, silent treatment days from now… “I will never understand about being fey’ri, but I can relate to some of what you might be feeling. But would you mind if we talked somewhere a little more private? I’ve never really been a proponent of public confessions or exhibitions,” she said, again laughing, and reaching out to offer her hand. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 4 2007, 04:19 PM Post #164 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Taking the Sunite's hand, all the while mindful to not over balance the half elf, Fade hauled her self upright and nodded at her suggestion of finding somewhere quiet to sit for a while. "Never was good at the silent treatment. Find cold hard to do as well. Much happier when I've got something to be angry about" She grinned and then straightened herself up. "But for all I've said today and for what it's worth - and this is strictly between you and me - I...I really don't blame any of you for being suspicious about me, nor for your attitude towards me. I know only too well how brutal my people can be, and as far as I know, I'm the only one that goes against the grain, so to speak." For a moment, the fey'ri paused and looked away, chewing her bottom lip. "It's.... lonely, you know? Being the only one." she stopped again and snorted in derisive amusement. "Not that I'd want any other fey'ri around right now, you understand. Bunch of bastards they are..." She took a deep breath "But, even then, so many people have had, you know, a pop at you in the past, you get defensive. About everything. And in the end, all you expect from other people is crap, so you figure that offence is the best defence... and you kind of become your own self-fulfilling prophecy." The fey'ri then looked up and deliberatly locked eyes with the other female. "And it sucks. Big time." |
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| Pamela | Feb 4 2007, 05:45 PM Post #165 |
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Molly
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“Oh believe me, I do angry very well,” Llana laughed, “Karosin can vouch for that…” She nodded at the mention of confidentiality, and listened attentively as they went towards the library. She closed the door behind them, and laughed at the perverse, if understandable desire to be the only fey’ri around while also regretting the fact. She met Fade’s gaze, and nodded as she replied. “It certainly does, and yet it’s so hard to break the cycle. It took me years, and I still have problems with it now and then.” Now she looked away, as if checking to make sure that there was nobody else around. Perhaps a gnomish hermit next? She gestured to the pile of cushions in the corner, plopping down among them with out further ado. “I won’t say I’m happy about being a half-elf, but I’m dealing with it better than I ever did. I wouldn’t compare it to your situation of course. At least I’m not reviled on sight, or hunted when recognised. There are Drow who can certainly relate to your situation.” Though I highly doubt Anaara is one of them… “Most of them tend to live in the forests in private enclaves- at least until they’re powerful enough to fight most of the idiots that approach them.” “But you’re wrong, by the way, about not blaming us for our suspicions- or at least,” she amended, “Not anymore. I was worried at first that this was some kind of sick ploy- that you were in danger of being really hurt, but in order to regain your people’s favour, were being made to pretend to ally yourself with us.” She shrugged. “Not a nice thought, of course, but then we don’t usually run into nice people in our line of work. But you’ve proven yourself to me as far as I’m concerned- more than enough.” She suddenly grinned and teasingly waved a finger at her companion. “But if you are a double-agent, and you prove me wrong, you’re not allowed to tell the others. I’ll deny every word,” she laughed. She then sobered up, and paused in thought, wondering whether to broach the topic, and if so, whether it was still too early. Fade was being honest, and she wanted to return the favour, but she also worried about looking manipulative or worse, a liar. “I do know what you mean, though about the self-defence. I was a very bitter woman for many years, but I’d mastered the art of smiling while sneering at people mentally. There always had to be ulterior motives behind shows of kindness; after all, I did,” she said, shaking her head. “I lived like that for nearly twenty years, and then it took me nearly another twenty to try to stop it. I still have my moments.” She bit her lip for a moment then quietly added, “Don’t expect miracles of yourself, first of all. Not because it’s impossible. You can cope with it, and you can overcome it. But it will take time. And one thing I can tell you: you are not responsible for what you are, as a fey’ri. But you are responsible for who you are. And to hell with anyone else who can’t tell the difference between the two.” |
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| eocine | Feb 4 2007, 06:42 PM Post #166 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Karosin watched the goings on between the Elf and the Demon-thing through decidedly laconic eyes. Though he was enjoying the fact that the crimson haired Fey’ri was living down to his ripest expectations regarding her inability to keep her temper in even the most inconsequential of discussions, he also utterly and completely loathed the kind of moronic braggadocio that the Elven imbecile was indulging in. He watched the interactions carefully, remembering what he could for future reference should he need it, this unscheduled rage would probably prove to be a goldmine should he ever need to bring her to heel, or even annoy her to the point where she snapped. When Llana go up to leave he himself didn’t move for a moment, not even when Fade followed her, for he had seen this before from her and knew that in the first few moments following something like this it was always wisest to leave her alone to allow any residual anger to cool off a little. It is a trick that most married men have to use from time to time… After a few minutes he judged the time to have been right, and so he rose from the table, not bothering to excuse himself of explain his actions as he walked towards the door, before whispering a few arcane words and gesturing with his hands, hands which soon became transparent as the Invisibility spell took effect and shielded him from prying eyes. He came across the tableaux as Fade and Llana were talking, and stood listening long enough to discern the intent of the fey’ri. He could have stayed longer to eavesdrop on the conversation, but that would have been decidedly inelegant of him, and would have impinged upon Llana’s personal freedoms as much as Fade’s and as such he left them to their discussion, mentally reminding himself to segment what he had heard in the dining room and what few snippets he had picked up from the discussion in the hallway. Deciding that it would perhaps be better to await her return later in their bedroom the assassin silently slid open the door to their room and stepped inside, closing it behind himself. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 4 2007, 07:47 PM Post #167 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Needing no encouragement to make herself comfortable, the fey'ri curled herself up on a large, squashy cushion next to the half elf. It suprised her that Llana had negative feelings about her own mixed heritage - the half elves Fade having encountered before the Sunite were seemingly happy with their lot in life, and a good half of them being just as disdainful towards her as any fullblood depending on whether they had been raised by elves or by humans. She nodded at the reference to the drow - she had heard of such enclaves, but had never been to one, much less met any of them. When the Sunite began to talk of her suspiscions regarding their initial meeting, Fade looked away from Llana and began chewing on her thumbnail - a sure sign that she was feeling conflicted. "Although I wouldn't put it past them... no, it wasn't a ploy. Inther'd been a bit of a nemesis for a while for me. The only thing I regret is that it wasn't me that got to stick the bastard." Afterall, he got to stick me enough times.... At that thought, Fade had to suppress an involuntary shudder. When Llana grinned at her, Fade smiled gratefully back. It felt... odd to have a kind of confidant, but it was a nice odd. She wasn't entirely sure what the half elf was alluding to regarding her life and her own overcome bitterness, but that didn't stop the fey'ri feeling a strange feeling of kinship that she hadn't experienced since Keita's death. "Twenty years? That's... a long time. I doubt I have the patience." her smile faded from her lips. "And at least you did learn to smile... I never managed that." Fade replied quietly. "If I had... well, maybe things would have been a bit better - a bit more bearable. Still, it's easy to say that now, isn't it? Hindsight is such a wonderful thing..." "I don't want miracles. Just not to be judged all the time. People - males mainly - they look at me and either see an evil harpy who doesn't deserve to live or an insatiable succubus who definitely deserves a fuck." She paused again and resumed the nervous chewing of her talon-like thumbnail. "And the worst thing is... that's exactly what happens. The harpy or the whore." She looked up at Llana and shrugged. "It's like I don't even have a choice anymore... that's what I find hard to overcome. And all the while the demon wins, I won't have a Tana'ri's chance in Hell of changing it." |
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| eocine | Feb 4 2007, 09:44 PM Post #168 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Anaara’s eyes blinked once in the total darkness, and the room was silent enough that the movement seemed audible to her for a moment, a tiny clicking in the night. The back of her head rested against the cool stone of the side of her bath as she tried to muddle her way though a series of treacherous thoughts that conspired to try and tell her that her plan was foolish, and that it would be better to leave now with her life than risk staying with the sufacers and being in some way discovered with her treacherous thoughts and slaughtered by the menagerie of fools that seemed to populate. But no, the rewards that were potentially hers to grasp surely outweighed the risk, and if she could just subvert one of them into doing her bidding, whether it be consciously or unconsciously, then this time would have been well spent, and she could return to the Underdark with her head held high and the notice of Lolth behind her. With that she could start to think about displacing her sisters in the house pecking order, and then over time once sufficient safeties were in place… She could finally take her rightful place in the hierarchy of her family, and rule as she had been born to do. Return with one of these powerful surfacers, or better yet somehow secure the tower they had found themselves in, for with the magical might that could conceivably be hewn from such a place there would be virtually no limit to her power. Then she would need to make some connections in the Abyss, and use the powers of the demons to help raise her in the Drow world… Fade could perhaps be tricked or coerced in some way into giving her the secrets of her people, and taking that knowledge down could indeed tip the balance in her favor. Tomorrow, when they were out of this accursed place, she would speak with her dark Goddess, and begin her plan to achieve dominance over the surfacers, and later on, due to that, with the favor such a success would bring her, leave and return to her home. Possibly at the head of an army… And with the heads of the arrogant human and his half-breed wife on a pike at the front of it. Her people had perhaps underutilized the surface as a weapon in the endless strife of their city states, and she suspected that it was cowardice that had caused it… Well, she would prove that she was no coward, and would prove to be better than the matron’s of the years past. She would utilize the magical strengths of the surface world, kowtow them beneath her banner and then use such troops to demand a stake in the future of the Underdark… Yes, there was so much to be achieved here, and only through fear could she fail. Anaara’s thoughts were manic and disjointed, crackling through her head and expanding different ideas into the full glare of her consciousness, myriad ideas seemed to spew up from inside her, and she frantically tired to embrace them all. Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even herself, she had been stung downstairs by the words of the others, and was reacting in the only way she knew how, first with sullen silence, and then with thoughts of an all encompassing revenge, that would span both those that had immediately displeased her, and then the greater world at large. Her heart beating with a dark rapture she pulled herself out of the water in a state bordering on religious frenzy, her thoughts now reassured that it was indeed the right path that she followed, one of high risk and higher reward. She pulled a thick towel from the side and dried herself off before settling onto the bed, slipping her eyes shut and embracing the thoughts of the horrors and domination that she would bring to all as she started to attempt to slip into reverie. |
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| Darkwind | Feb 5 2007, 04:31 AM Post #169 |
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"Avelaer Lafesti, of Evereska. I am pleased to meet you." He lied, without giving any sign--he hoped!--of it. It was a small lie, though, the sort of thing everyone did in the interest of not stirring up trouble. It was commonly called 'courtesy'. "And, yes, I'm a bladesinger." He neglected to volunteer the fact that had he not left the city, he would be a bladesinger weaponmaster now. Who cared, anyway? He supposed it would sound impressive to most folk, but these people were a hard-headed, jaded lot and hard to impress. They didn't care for his ability to instantly cast spells in the thick of battle--in the middle of an attack, even--or for his wonderful weapon which could change between a rapier and a bow in a blink of an eye. Each of them had many special qualities of their own--why, just look at the sorceror! Dead, and brought back in a special body--itself in all likelihood unique in the world--by direct intervention of a deity, without aid of a cleric, and set upon a righteous and holy purpose--and he can heal, too. 'Courtesy' demanded that he at least make some attempt at conversation. "And I guess you're a bard, aren't you?" |
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| Pamela | Feb 5 2007, 07:10 PM Post #170 |
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Molly
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Llana smiled wryly at the mention of patience. She recalled the many times she’d fallen back into old behaviour, and the bouts of self-recrimination that followed after. She grew solemn however as Fade continued. When she began to start blaming herself and despairing, she shook her head, and then tossed a pillow at the fey’ri, letting it bounce towards her arm. “One step at a time, Fade, for all of us! Look at you- you’ve already admitted that you’re the only one of your kind who’s even gone so far to take that step. Do you realise what an accomplishment that is in itself?!” She smiled as she softly added, “Look at the hard day you’ve had- and I bet it’s not just been one day either. You’re finally in comfortable surroundings, and even here you have to worry about suspicious reactions from some of your companions. You’ve not had time to come to grips with it all. I think you’re entitled to get rip-roaring drunk and blow some steam.” She wasn’t going to touch the matter of sex. Fade was still raw from her experiences as well as drunk, and now wasn’t the time to address it. “And unfortunately, you are asking for a miracle about never being judged.” She reached over to touch Fade’s arm. “But to hell with those who do. Try to ignore them as best as you can, and remember those of us who know you’re better than that. You’re being too harsh on yourself.” She suddenly laughed and said, “But I’ve sermonised long enough! And I’d give you a hug but I’d end up toppling over if I did…Oh…” She laughed again as she inched over on her knees and then threw her left arm around the rogue. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 5 2007, 08:54 PM Post #171 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Even though still quite tipsy, Fade batted the pillow away easily, grinning at Llana's attempt to lighten what could very quickly become a very dark mood. If anything, she welcomed it - he main desire right now was to explain her behaviour, not go into a detailed account of her past. The fey'ri's grin, however, turned wry at the difficulty of the day. "Not as hard as yesterday." she replied "Yesterday, I was on my own. Today... well, today I feel I'm up on the deal. I might have my, shall we say... detractors, but there again, I seem to have picked up a..." she shrugged. "I dunno. What would you say you are? I daren't say anything... bound to jinx it if I do." she smiled warmly at the Sunite, and then rolled her eyes. "And I'm a bit concerned might have also picked a case of 'rampant elf', too..." she shook her head. "Although I get the feeling that if it's female and walked most of the time on two legs, it'd have a case of 'rampant elf' around that particular one... Still, shouldn't have let him get to me." she yawned. "Nor have drunk quite that much." She then chuckled at Llana's abrupt change in mood and own self-effacing attitude to her temporary disability. The Sunite's embrace surprised the rogue at first, causing her to involuntarily stiffen and unconciously pull away; it was actually the fact that Llana felt like she was going to overbalance that caused Fade to hook her left arm around her waist and use her right hand upon the Sunite's left shoulder to steady her, the action actually bringing her closer to the rogue than possibly was originally intended. Whether it was simply the drink or the fey'ri's own deep-seated but long denied need for physical contact with another person she would never know, but rather than letting the Sunite go, Fade drew both her arms around Llana and rest her head upon her shoulder; then, without really thinking of the consequences of such an action, turned her head slightly and nuzzled her cheek into Llana's hair and neck. |
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| eocine | Feb 5 2007, 08:58 PM Post #172 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Ahhh… My coat buttons up tight over more than just bardistry my friend”, replied Kellindel, tapping his nose for a second as he did so, as if there was some great secret to be hidden. A secret he then instantly revealed anyway, “As happens I named myself a bard of the bow, and that wasn’t an idle nickname, for I am also an Arcane Archer, so you and I together make up the melee and ranged assault of our thousands of years worth of ancestors!” He said cheerfully, whilst miming firing arrows off into the distance for a second or two, and then following it up with a dot of air-fencing as well. ‘We shall of course be known as the Elven terrors when we smite the villainous evils of the feyrins!” He said, with obvious over-exuberance and mispronunciation both. “And of course your skill with the hand-harp and composition demands that you and I will work on a piece fit to commemorate the great battle that we shall have, and the victory we shall claim!” In the absence of anyone joining in his toast, he simply raised one of the discarded glasses into the air and then took a swig of the contents, noting with disappointment that he was utterly stone cold sober, and that there was no point in even attempting to get drunk again given the fact that virtually everyone else had left. He then turned his head towards the pale and interesting looking fellow who was toying with a piece of glass… Deciding that it would be a frankly impertinent question to ask about that, he instead decided to go with something slightly safer, “Your name was Greg if I remember correctly?” He just about managed to pierce the fog of alcohol from earlier, and indeed remembered something more than that… “You seemed a lot… Shinier earlier?” |
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| Darkwind | Feb 5 2007, 11:39 PM Post #173 |
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By then, Greg put the glass away with a sigh of relief--it would have been his last resort, what with the effects being only a shade less unpleasant than a fight to the death. If Fade did not resist the spell, she would have ended up as a glass statue and that would not do anything to improve her disposition--quite the contrary. And if she did, well, that might have turned out even uglier. He regarded the enthused elf with some degree of amusement and answered. "Gregory Smith, at your service, so to speak. I have an aura of pure celestial light which is always about me, unless I choose to make it invisible. A neat trick, by the way, making light invisible." He did not demonstrate. "It's unmistakable and I use it as sort of greeting card--any goodly person who sees it recognizes it and tends to be more friendly to me. Which is very handy when you're a sorcerer." He sighed dramatically. "People just don't seem to like us, ordinarily. I can't imagine why." Well, that was interesting. It seems there was more to him than met the eye. He appeared as a typical drunk ne'er-do-well, and probably was, but if he really was one of the famous arcane archers, as well... "Really? How interesting. We must find time to shoot at some targets, I think. Hopefully, they'll be moving and hostile, too. My light swordbow is great back-up for when my melee attacks are not sufficient, like against that dragon I just sang about." He knew he wouldn't have to elaborate on the nature of his--unusual outside elven hands--weapon. "I had to spend nearly the whole battle shooting at it, its hide was so thick. As for the song, I'll leave that up to you. I'm sure you could come up with something really amazing, rather than plugging into a standard plot like I did. Also, I don't know how long I'll be traveling--once I'm done with the fey'ri, I'll probably head back to Evereska... no, wait, I still have to get Anaara to the Underdark..." |
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| eocine | Feb 6 2007, 04:11 PM Post #174 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“It’s probably something to do with that whole ‘enough arcane power to level a town deal’,” replied the Elf with a shrug, “I have to admit that I’ve not come across many sorcerers in my travels, other than the ones that ended up leaving that path early on to become my fellow archers of course.” He reached out to grasp a jug of fruit juice and poured a large glassful. “Still, surely it’s a compromise that can’t pull too hard on you? It’s not like you would have to tell people about it, I mean, speaking solely for my own good self I normally introduce myself as a bard rather than an bowman, simply because it suits my purposes, and my desire to be accepted, more than being any kind of symbol of Elvishness.” Also because, whilst he could communicate easily enough with Elves, he generally preferred humans, for they lived their lives at a pace that he found exhilarating. He wasn’t fool enough to think that he could do it forever, or even for long, but in those periods he normally found himself becoming slightly more distant from his people. Despite that though he still had the utmost respect for ‘his’ people, especially those that achieved much in their chosen fields. It was a curious paradox in him that he could fill the role of the stereotypical lethargic Elf during his periods of rest, and the worst kid of hyperactive human during his up periods. It was this that had led his sister to, rather unflatteringly it had to be said, dub him ‘the lizard’ for the vast difference between his periods of frantic motion and those of total inactivity. “It seems like we’ll have plenty of chance to target shoot”, he agreed amiably, “though I’ll admit that I don’t know a huge amount about those we’ll be hunting other than the broadest brushstrokes, my travels to this place were a tad on the hurried side…” He was indeed familiar with swordbows, as Avelaer had correctly speculated, though he didn’t own one himself, the enchantment that they added to the arrows could be achieved by his own merest touch, and as such he benefited more from weapons that added elemental damage and the like to his projectiles. “It is though my fervent prayer that we don’t encounter any more dragons, I’m perfectly happy to admit to ruining a perfectly good pair of trousers the last time I encountered one”, he shrugged ruefully. He waved away the compliment, “That assumes that I could lift myself out of my lyrical malaise in the first place, and it’s been a good while and counting since I could.” As he mentioned Anaara’s return to the Underdark Greg and Avelaer could almost sense Kellindel perking up, as he always seemed to do in the presence, or even at the mention, of attractive women. “So she’s returning to the Darkness then?” I’ll be sure to try and give her a going away present first… “I actually spent some time on a spell-jammer with a pair of Drow once, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience in the least watching them try to one up each other in the ‘How evil I am’ stakes…” |
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| Pamela | Feb 6 2007, 08:58 PM Post #175 |
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Molly
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Llana beamed, and said, “No jinx in it at all; friend is a good word, and appropriate.” She laughed ruefully at the reference to Kellindel, and said, “I wonder if two legs is a necessary proviso, considering his centaur reference. He says ‘someone’, but I'll bet it’s one of those cases where you use a ‘friend’ to describe something you don’t want your own name associated with.” A wicked grin crossed her face as she suggested, “Perhaps we should introduce him to Anaara? Although I suppose we should make sure that he lives to see tomorrow…” Llana briefly wondered at the wisdom of her gesture, chiding herself as she felt Fade tense up. She went still for a moment, but relaxing, so that the fey’ri could pull away if she wished without any sign of a negative reaction. At the quiet show of affection, she remained relaxed, trying to decide what would be the wisest move. Sunites, despite common misapprehension, are permitted to turn away unwanted advances. But they are also taught to err on the side of generousity in the case of ambiguous gestures. She wasn’t repelled by Fade, and indeed, as had often happened before, experienced a momentary regret that she wasn’t still single. But as in all those other times, it did pass, and was forgotten. She suddenly smiled to herself, imagining Karosin’s pointed remarks when she came upstairs with the smell of the fey’ri’s perfume in her hair. He knew her, however, and so she let such comments go. After all, she wasn’t beyond her own little barbs when Ellinda’s latest letter arrived… She was tempted to lay a kiss on the woman’s forehead, but knew how easily that could be misinterpreted- and how the moving of her own head could find her lips meeting the other’s. Instead, she leaned her cheek against her head, stroking Fade’s back gently with her hand, and wishing that loneliness could be a long-forgotten memory, and that the act of love wasn’t so often used so cruelly. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 8 2007, 05:53 PM Post #176 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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For a fleeting moment, the fey'ri felt a sharp, painful lump rise in her throat at Llana's acceptance of her embrace, threatening to suffocate her. Swallowing hard, Fade closed her eyes and wrestled her softer emotions into submission, using her own forever roiling temper and hard-headedness to kick them firmly into the secret corner of her mind and locked them down again. As soon as she felt the mental click of her mind's lock, the rogue pulled away from the Sunite and sat back on her haunches, her expression unreadable. A long time ago, after the death of Keita and the pain that had followed afterwards - a pain that she knew would never truly go away - the fey'ri had promised herself never to get close to anyone again. Companions, comrades, playmates... they were fine, but she had vowed to herself, for her own sanity, that were to be kept at arm's length. With the high emotion of the day mixed with an unwise amount of alcohol, she had nearly broken that promise to herself. In truth, the Sunite's gesture had scared Fade; she had made her feel vulnerable with her open admittance of friendship and affection. Knowing that this was something she could not reciprocate, the rogue leant forward and unexpectedly grasped the back of Llana's neck gently and pulled the priestess' head forward do that their foreheads touched briefly. The, just as quickly as she had instigated the odd gesture, the fey'ri let go, stood up and without another word, left the room. |
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| Pamela | Feb 8 2007, 07:19 PM Post #177 |
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Molly
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Llana kept her face and body language calm at Fade’s withdrawal. It was a sadly common reaction that she’d encountered many times before and experienced herself. She had no idea of the fey’ri’s fomer contacts, and would actually have been privately relieved to learn of it. Instead, she feared that the crimson-haired rogue was ashamed of her ‘weakness’, and suspicious of the priestess’ motives. Trust would take time for Fade to learn, and Llana to earn. She let herself lean forward into the gesture, and said nothing when the rogue abruptly left. Once the door had closed, she touched her forehead, and sighed. It was a beginning, and one she certainly hadn’t expected so soon. One step at a time, she thought sadly, wishing that the healing of minds was as magically easy as that for the flesh. She lay that vain thought aside, and quietly prayed for the fey’ri and for Avelaer. When she was done, she stood up, and left the library. She went up the stairs, and made her way back to her bedroom. Inside she went towards Karosin who was lying on the bed. “I thought you’d be here,” she said. She hadn’t noticed his departure, of course; that kind of skill was beyond her. But she knew her husband well, and the likelihood of him remaining behind in a drunken setting was highly unlikely. |
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| eocine | Feb 8 2007, 09:01 PM Post #178 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Of course”, he replied, turning his gaze towards her and giving her a slightly amused smile, “you would hardly have expected me to stay down there after all amongst the exceptionally common herd would you?” He enquired of her rhetorically before sitting up and spinning his legs off the bed. “Besides which when faced with the choice between mind numbingly inane chatter and total silence I will always lean towards the option that doesn’t leave me feeling like my intelligence is being sapped from me with each passing moment.” “You spoke with Fade?” He enquired of her, raising his hand up to ward off any issues of confidentiality that could arise, “I saw you with her in the hall way, I don’t wish details of your discussion, I only want to know if she will be able to handle what we may face tomorrow?” It wasn’t that Karosin was well enough trained to not enquire into personal details, it was more that he simply didn’t care, and distained them as irrelevant, at least unless they threatened to impede her in anyway the next time they faced danger, at which point any such issues became very relevant. And whilst there was no chance of his playing babysitter for the Fey’ri, neither did he want to risk her making an error of judgment in the battle and risking his or his wife’s neck. He wasn’t prepared to look down onto her corpse again… And would prove to be unbelievably ruthless in the pursuit of that aim if he felt it necessary. Lightly he stepped behind her before lifting the white chiton up over her head, knowing that undressing with only one arm was likely to prove to be something of a challenge, when she turned to face him he wrapped her in an embrace for a few moments before releasing her and laying a kiss upon her forehead. He looked down at her with some concerned scrutiny for a moment, more worried that he would admit in a thousand years at her second return from death. “Are you ok to handle tomorrow as well?” He asked, feeling that it was a question that needed to be addressed, but intensely disliking that fact. Unfortunately though it was ever one of the main problems that could come from adventuring with those you cared about, the fact that harm could and would befall them, and when it did, and that inevitable feeling of helpless nausea came over you, then you had to rebuild that delicate faith in fate to bring them through again. Before she could answer though he whipped the blanket off the bed and draped it around her naked shoulders and once more drew her into an embrace. |
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| Darkwind | Feb 9 2007, 01:19 AM Post #179 |
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Greg shrugged. "I normally don't announce that I'm a sorcerer--but most people can tell. Wizards tend to be more introspecive and seem to like showing off the fancy words they know. Me, I don't keep my nose in a book, or act like I'm smarter than everyone else. Which is good, since I'm not. Anyway, eventually, people catch on. And then they get all suspicious and defensive." He rose and stretched. "Well, the three of us may not need sleep, but I still do need to put in my eight hours to get my spells back. I'd take my leave of you--but I hate people who talk like that." He winked with a grin. "See you guys later." Greg walked away, leisurely strolling toward his room. At the door, he spoke to no one in particular, smirking. "If you need to wake me before nine hours elapse, send someone you want to get rid of in a hurry." Inside, he found the bed and began to clear his mind of all distractions, focusing only on the magic, as he had done every day for decades. "'Never mess in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with the right sauce.' Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard? But, yea, I can live without any more dragon encounters too, thank you. They're stuff of epics, but most never survive to enjoy hearing about themselves... "Yea, she asked that we escort her to the nearest entrance after this is done. As I'm responsible for her, I guess it'll be for me to fulfill that promise." |
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| eocine | Feb 9 2007, 09:35 AM Post #180 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“Which unfortunately isn’t overly surprising, given that people generally fear that which can kill them, and a sorcerer of any real power certainly fits that bill,” replied Kellindel as he took another sip of the juice, before then picking up an apple from the remaining dessert platters and taking a bite. As Greg got up to leave he gave the amused nod that the jest deserved, “see you tomorrow.” He then turned to Avelaer, “I’m not really an ‘epics’ kind of bard to be honest, I’m more of a… Down and dirty, bawdy and ribald type to be frank,” admitted Kellindel with the utmost honesty. “Which is exactly what I prefer, having a long lifespan if fine as long as you stay alive to actually use it…” “On the bright side at least the view will be pleasant…” He gave the other Elf a positive smirk as he let his mind absently drift to the Drow. Then the Half-Elf. Then the Fey’ri. Back to the Drow. Half-Elf again, and then finally the Fey’ri. “Still”, he said rising to his feet, “that is of course an issue for another day, and for now I’m going to have to do some serious amounts of nothing to make up for everything that I’ve done today.” He bowed low to the blade-singer before turning on his heels and walking out of the room and up to his own bedroom. As the door closed behind him he grinned, for he was indeed feeling unusually well by now, everyone in the group seemed ok, he’d been reunited with an old friend and most importantly of all he was reasonably (over)confident of being able to score with all of the women in the group. Yes, life could certainly have been a whole hell of a lot worse for the bard of the roving eye. He gave a quick prayer of thanks to whichever gods happened to be listening before dropping himself onto the pile of pillows that made up the virtual entirety of the room, and trying to let himself drift away into reverie. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 9 2007, 04:20 PM Post #181 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Upon leaving the library, the fey'ri felt a tiny pang of regret. She glanced back to the door, wondering if she should - this once - take advantage of a seemingly sympathetic ear, but quickly looked away, shaking her head, chiding herself for such musings. In the end, she made her way back to her room. She had for a brief moment considered re-joining the others in the dining room simply so she wouldn't have to face any prolonged time alone, but even she could predict with crystal clarity how that decision would end... and exactly who would end up with a black eye. Well, a black eye if he was lucky. Instead, she closed the door softly behind her and, pulling off her borrowed clothes, arranged a little a comfortable nest of pillows and cushions. She then dragged a thick blanket over herself and willed herself to sleep. She knew straight away it wasn't going to work. Kicking back the blanket, she lay on her back for a while, wrestling all manner of personal demons. In the end, though, she gave into one - one that she knew would give her the oblivion she craved and thus allow her to rest. Rolling over, she got to her feet and made her way over to her small pack of meagre things, pulling out a small, greasy packet. Pulling out a small blob of what resembled black wax, Fade offered herself a wry, cynical smile as she nibbled on one corner. Well, there goes another promise broken... no more drugs. she thought to herself as she wandered back to bed, already feeling a little light headed as the narcotic reacted with the alcohol in her system. Still, if it allows me to sleep... |
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| Pamela | Feb 9 2007, 08:00 PM Post #182 |
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Molly
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“You know, it always amazes me that nobody notices your charming, philanthropic manner,” Llana replied tartly, shaking her head at her husband’s negative description of his company. She merely nodded at his reference to Fade; she had no intention of saying anything more, since similar disclosures had come up in the past that it was now a familiar routine. “She will be fine tomorrow; she just needed a chance to get today out of her system,” she said simply, aware that Karosin knew as well as she that there was more bothering the fey’ri than the morning’s events. “If anything, she’ll be even more confident, now that she knows we’re not intending to kill her, and that I at least trust her.” She smiled as he lifted the folds of linen, raising her arm and her head as she felt it flowing upwards. She looked up into his eyes, worried herself for a moment as she caught the look on his face. She had no time to consider what it might be before it was made clear by his question. She returned his embrace, then laughed at her makeshift mantle. “I’m all right now, Karo.” Concern for Fade’s problems had distracted her from her own, as well as put them in perspective. “It was hard, when I first came back. It’ll be much easier tomorrow of course,” she added, gesturing to her right side. “But the farther I get away from it, the easier it is. There is a little wistfulness,” she added honestly, “But it’s not going to plague me.” She smiled up at him. “And I have you, which is something that the afterlife can’t offer me. I do not regret my return, and I never will. Life is still very good. “Even if you do annoy me at times with your surliness,” she teased, and tugged lightly at one of his braids, before standing on her toes to kiss him once more. Her hand went down to the buttons on his shirt, and she began to giggle in the midst of the kiss. I can’t undo them- oh to hell with it, it’s not like it’s his real shirt. And if it is, I’ll take it to the tailor’s, she thought to herself as she began to pull insistently, popping the buttons off one by one…. |
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| eocine | Feb 9 2007, 08:17 PM Post #183 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Time passed, as is its wont, but for those ensconced in the mansion it passed with them removed from the stream of time, and thus, whilst they prayed and prepared and slept the rest of the world hung still and unmoving. Below the living quarters of the Sunite construction the invisible servants cleaned and tended to the ruined and filthy clothes and armour they had been given, buffing every speck of metal to a gleaming shine, and shining every piece of leather in such a way that it became possible to see ones face in the dark mirror that was formed. Repairs were made and seams re-stitched whilst the party slumbered, and the clothes were magically re-deposited in their owner’s room before they awoke the next day. Excepting of course in the case of the Elves, who became momentarily aware of a sensation of magic, before their own clothing reappeared. Curiously the magical palace perfectly followed the expected cycle of darkness, as such the following morning brought light to all the rooms, bar of course Anaara’s, which was destined to stay lightless until the Drow Priestess chose to leave the protection of the mansion. Before the first of the party had risen the great table had been cleared of the remnants of the meal the night before, and then relayed with breakfast. Again the decision seemed to have been that it was better to risk having something uneaten than have someone be unhappy with the choice laid out before them. As such there was a vast array of platters and tureens, types of bread from all over the face of Toril, a variety of sweet pastries, fruits and frankly virtually everything that could be desired. On the drinks front there were teas and coffee’s of all sorts, as well as juices from virtually every fruit that Faerun possessed. Breakfast was clearly served… |
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| eocine | Feb 9 2007, 08:35 PM Post #184 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Most Elves take reverie for four hours, this is more or less accepted as a fact, and to stay in that state for longer is considered unusual and frankly a little distasteful by most other elves. As such it should perhaps have come as no surprise that it wasn’t unusual for Kellindel to be in reverie for at least six hours, and sometimes many more. This, combined with his habit of being up into the early hours of the morning had long been a source of frustration for those that he encountered. From his parents, to his teachers and even those he adventured with, all had felt the massive annoyance that comes in the presence of one who is naturally lazy at the best of times. And at the worst borders on narcolepsy. Amongst those that knew him best tales of his sloth were legendary, here was a fellow who had been caught sleeping in another man’s bed on no less that eight occasions, and each time had responded with a plea that he be allowed just one more hour’s sleep before the pasting he would have so richly deserved. Worse than that though had been the times where he had managed to sleep through pirates, orcs and on one memorable occasion (for everyone else, Kell was asleep and thus remembers nothing) a direct lightning strike. Fortunately he had been wearing his ring of lightning resistance at the time, or it would almost certainly have been the last cat-nap he would have ever taken. It was with this distinctly unimpressive history in mind that the Nymph who had first let them into the mansion appeared suddenly in the hallway outside his door. Clothed in a red dress that was perfectly cut to display her figure, the fey creature gave a small and amused smile to herself before opening the door and stepping inside. Kellindel’s magically formed bedroom was one big morass of musical instruments, images of naked females, cushions, furs, games, trashy books and toys… As well as a large scrying crystal in the corner. The story that this layout told most clearly was that it’s inhabitant was still somehow and in someway locked in his adolescence. And given his Elven nature it looked like it was going to be a long one. A very long one. The Nymph’s amused smile though didn’t falter in this face of this, and she stepped lightly to his side, enjoying the sensation of her bare feet against the soft and warm bed-floor of the room. Before here Kellindel was laying flat with the top part of his body, but his legs were crossed, meaning that he had assumed something akin to a laying lotus position. With a mischievous glint in her eye the Nymph raised her left foot and lightly brushed at his nose with one of her dainty toes. The Elf’s nose twitched and flared briefly, before he murmured something unintelligible and turned his head away. Her foot then made its way towards his pointed ear, stroking softly down the outside of it for a moment, at which the unconscious Kellindel shivered with pleasure, before she pressed her toe into his ear. At this he raised a hand weakly to bat away whatever it was that was touching him, and muttered “Llana nuzzle niblick”. This raised an audible giggle from the Nymph, who decided this time to crouch down and stroke one of her fingers across the side of his jaw. He murmured again, this time “thigh Fade tail”. Finally she used one of her nails to lightly scratch his inner ear, he shuddered again and said “report supple Anaara”. She laughed more audibly this time, a high and tinkling laugh, that never the less didn’t stir the Elf. Stepping back away from the still slumbering form she closed her eyes for a moment and started to concentrate, her breathing shallow as she started to focus her mind… A warm droplet of water burst on the very crown of her head, and then another struck her bared shoulder, another followed, and other, striking not just her but everything else around the room. The magical raindrops thundered loudly as they struck Kellindel’s bongos, and splattered wetly as they fell onto the myriad cushions. Where gentleness had failed water most certainly worked, and Kellindel’s eyes flew open as he wildly looked around his rapidly water logging bedroom. Until of course he looked up at the Nymph, with her silken dress plastered to her form, perfectly displaying her every curve. His jaw dropped open, and he suddenly became aware of two things. Firstly that this was the fastest he’d come out of reverie in a long time. And secondly that he would be well advised to place one of the myriad pillows over his groin, at least for the time being. The still giggling (and thus jiggling) Nymph regarded the sodden Elf for a second. “You may consider this your alarm call my dear bard”, she said with musical amusement, before closing her eyes once more and falling into the same pit of concentration she’d just left. This time though the result was entirely opposite, for where there had once been rain this time there was only warmth, warmth that dried out the room, the Elf and his fey alarm clock with equal speed. “And I can assure you that if you fall back into reverie after this then the next wake up will see you swimming,” she teased. “I can assure you my lady that after seeing you sleep is the last thing on my mind!” Replied the now dry Elf, who was frantically thinking of hideously ugly hags, female trolls and anything else that might mean he could easily walk without a stoop. The Nymph smiled at his compliment and stepped around in front of him, leaning down to lay a kiss on top of his head, and by the happiest of coincidences letting him see exactly how low cut her dress was… “Sweet gods”, he said in an awed murmur, before shaking his head frantically and then looking up at her with a smile, “look my dear, much as I love having you here I find myself in desperate need of the bathroom… Will you accept my promise and meet me down stairs?” He virtually begged… With another giggle the Nymph delicately stroked his hair and nodded her assent, turning around and heading out of the door, leaving Kellindel alone to will his body back under his control. Instead of heading straight down the stairs though she headed towards Llana’s room, knocking lightly to alert her sister of the faith as to her presence. Under other circumstances, and had she known Llana to be alone, she would have entered freely, but the Priestess’ husband appeared for some reason to find that offensive, and so she was content to wait… |
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| Castamir | Feb 10 2007, 12:42 AM Post #185 |
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Native
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As the sun rose through a gap in the mountanous skyline bright light streamed through the still open windows, moving with the planetary body's ponderous ascent, and eventually striking Skafloc in the eyes. Eyes which flicked open instantly. On his feet in a moment the barbarian's surroundings confused him momentarily. He backed into the wall and remembered where he was, blinking away the images of his dream, one hand rising to rub his jawline, feeling the stubble of a few days. "Shit." he muttered, before looking around and seeing his repaired and cleaned clothing. With a deep audiable sigh of resignation, Skafloc walked over to the large bowl of water warming near the still smouldering fire in the centre of the room, splashing the liquid over himself, fully waking himself, before drying off with a towel and slowly donning his adventuring gear. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 10 2007, 10:40 AM Post #186 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade awoke slowly, rising from her curious mix of true sleep and reverie almost reluctantly. For a brief moment, she wondered exactly how she had managed to get back to Luskan, for surely this was her bed back in her small rented room by the docks, but the distinct lack of seagulls soon squashed that notion. Forcing her eyes open, she regarded her surroundings and felt a moment's disorientation before the memory where she was presented itself to her. With it also came the memory of her own antics, making her grimace and groan a little. Stretching, they fey'ri sat up, and then nearly lay straight back down again as her head pulsed painfully. Hissing between her teeth, she cradled her forehead for a short moment, willing her self-inflicted headache away. It didn't work - it never had done in the past, but that didn't stop her from trying. She then stood up, wincing a little as her head protested, and made her way to the small bathroom to carry out the ritual of her morning ablutions. With those completed, she then wandered over to the ottoman in the corner and retrieved her clean, repaired leathers. Holding them up, she quirked an eyebrow - they hadn't looked this good since she had commissioned them, and even then, they hadn't been quite this... shiny. Still, shiny wasn't necessarily good for someone in her line of work, and as she began the rather complicated manouvre of actually buckling herself into the lightweight armour, she made a mental note to find a way of dulling the leather quickly. After that, she retrieved a hairbrush and began the daily fight with her hair; as with every single morning, she vowed that the next time she found herself in possession of a pair of scissors that she would cut off the whole damn lot and make her life a hell of a lot easier. As soon as she had tamed the crimson morass into something she could vaguely contain, she seperated the front section and plaited it deftly, leaving the rest loose; she had learnt from bitter experience that a single braid was a welcoming target for any enemies, and that having half your hair ripped from your head was just as - if not more - painful than a sword swipe. She then pulled her boots on and reached for her sword belts, and in strapping them to her hips, finally felt ready to face whatever the day would present and left the room in search of breakfast. |
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| Darkwind | Feb 10 2007, 04:45 PM Post #187 |
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Avelaer wached the sun rise--or, rather, the room around him brighten as if the sun was rising, with decidedly mixed feelings. He did not sleep, of course, but this night he didn't even manage more than half-hour of Reverie, between three attempts. Every time, it was the same thing. Toward the end, he began to wish he would at least pass out from exhaustion, but apparently he wasn't quite tired enough for that yet. He considered with some irony that he couldn't even ask for somebody to cast Sleep on him, for obviously he was immune. This was developing into a major problem. He resolved to seek help after all--if not with the nightmares, then just with his inability to sleep or meditate. His equipment was brought in and he donned it without delay, before stepping out and heading to the dining room. The breakfast had been served, and he partook of it, albeit with considerably less enthusiasm than even the dinner served last night. Greg roused himself from his meditations and took a mental inventory of his magics. All the spells, in all the right amounts, were once again available to him, for which he fervently thanked the Lady of Mysteries. He performed such prayers every morning after he learned, a decade earlier, what wizards had to go through to recover their spells. When he considered how they had to pound them into their minds, time after time, never growing more familiar with them, always straining their memories with all the formulae and incantations as if doing so for the first time... well, it made him happy to be a sorcerer. The prayer had the usual effect of making him feel good and cheerful, so he whistled as he walked down to get some breakfast. Even the sight of the elven warrior did not dampen his mood. And Fade did not look any more cheerful, though better rested. "Good Morning!" They'd probably hate him for the upbeat tone, but that wasn't about to change it. |
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| Pamela | Feb 11 2007, 05:36 PM Post #188 |
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Molly
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Llana had risen early as usual, and approached today’s rites with a great deal of eagerness. Tossing a handful of rose petals into the pool of water, she’d poured in some rose oil and then began the day with prayers of thanksgiving for her return to life and their victories the day before- not only in battle, but in their harmonious relations with unlikely allies. At this point, she paused, and cast the long-awaited spell, and laughed delightedly as her shoulder tickled and an arm quickly grew. Another prayer of gratitude was offered, and she gloried in the ability to make all the proper gestures once more. The cycle of petitions followed, as she prayed for their continuing success and survival, as well as protection from enmity between themselves. This brought a small frown to her face, as she recalled the many frictions which had come up over the past day. Still, they had held together as a group, and gained unlikely friends in both Fade and Caine. She prayed that Anaara would lay aside her divisive ways but knew that some miracles were unlikely. When the rites were done, she emerged refreshed and ready for another day. The knot in her stomach was starting to bind, but she would force herself to eat a little something. She returned to her room to find her combat gear ready on her chair, and began to arm herself. She had no idea as to how long the others would be, and had no intention of waking them. When the knock came, she was surprised, wondering who was so eager to be on their way. She passed a quick glance at Karosin as she quickly moved to the door, not wanting to wake him. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of the nymph, and she dropped into a curtsey, before standing straight and embracing the beauty. “Is something wrong?” she asked with some concern. “Not at all,” the fey laughed, kissing her fondly. “Your guests are stirring, sister, and it would be good if you were there as our hostess, so to speak.” She didn’t speak of the upsets suffered by a couple of their guests, nor of the potential for strife. All of this would be seen clearly enough. “Very well,” she said, and gave one more quick glance at her husband before stepping out of the room. She skipped down the stairs, her spirits high from being newly restored. She walked into the room, still almost skipping, as she waved to everyone gathered. “Good morning,” she called out, even as her smile faded into concern as she took in Fade and Avelaer’s state. She wasn’t surprised by their tiredness; it would take more than a night for them deal with their problems. If we are lucky, we will be done this mission, and they can find someone to help them. It was not that she didn’t care; she was their team-mate and friend, and she’d learned years ago the dangers of blending the boundaries between those roles and counsellor. She moved to the table, and began to pick at the fruits and cheeses, taking up a small roll. “I doubt the others will be very late,” she said, “But I also would like to avoid waking them. Have you seen any of the others yet?” |
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| Castamir | Feb 11 2007, 07:03 PM Post #189 |
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It was with reluctance that Skafloc tore himself away from the illusionary view through the window, and left the room. He'd reapplied the woad in the time honoured ritual, and tied his mane of hair back. He hadn't been this well prepared, with this much rest and well maintained equipment for a long time. He paused at the door and took another look around the room, still marvelling at it's authenticity, and also at the feeling of belonging it inspired within him, a feeling he'd long though of as a distant memory. There was work to do though, and Skafloc was nothing if not single minded in the pursuit of his goals, and so he closed the door and walked away, murmuring a plea to his ancestor's to grant him a portion of their courage and strength for the battles that surely were to come. He entered the dining area used last night and cast a critical eye over his allies. Two of them were looking rough, one was expected, but the other, Avelaer, he'd expected to be fresh and ready for battle, though his experiences leading up to their meeting may well have been catching up with him, entirely understandable really... He didn't mention it, he simply filed it, and would keep an eye on their performance in combat. "Morning." he grinned at everyone, making straight for the table and grabbing some cured meats and a hunk of bread. |
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| eocine | Feb 11 2007, 08:36 PM Post #190 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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It was with some relief that Kellindel had watched the Nymph’s virtually perfect rear sashay out of the room and close the door behind herself. He wasn’t someone who handled sexual frustration at all well, and this point was coming clearer and clearer to him at each and every passing moment. He closed his eyes and slumped back onto the floor, forcing his mind out of gutters and onto far higher considerations, such as puppies and flowers and frankly anything else. Fortunately after a while he felt sufficiently deflated, and was able to just about push himself to his feet and head into the bathroom to undertake his morning ablutions, without carrying his own towel-rack with him. He emerged a few minutes later, looking a lot cleaner, and with his hair tied back out of the way, and a bright blue band tied over his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes. A few more moments were spent gathering together his possessions and placing them by the door for easy collection when the time came for them to leave. Whilst others may have offered prayers to their Gods for their safety, and those of their loved ones, or for aid in completing the task before them, Kellindel’s prayers were rather different and more aimed at his achieving consummation with any or all of the feminine party members. Possibly at once. Still, everyone prepared in their own way… Once these prayers were completed he swung the door open and looked out onto the Sunite mansion with a broad grin, feeling really good about the day in general. He’d slept well, was looking forwards to hanging out with Skafloc and seeing if he could get lucky with any of the women, and more than that had been getting distinctly bored by the quiet life he’d been living, and knew that some excitement would do him some good. “Oh what a beautiful morning!” He ran towards the top of the stairs before placing his butt on the banister and pushing himself downwards, sliding down the stairs and feeling the wind whipping over his face. “Oh what a beautiful day!” His feet touched down onto the floor and he sprinted forwards and into the dining room, throwing the doors open as he did so and giving the gathered audience a cheesy grin and a bow. “I’ve got a beautiful feeling!” Up onto the table now and throwing his head back… “Everything’s going my way!” With that he hopped back down off the table, turning as he did so and grabbing a bunch of red grapes as he did so. “Morning chief!” He said cheerfully to Greg as he ambled past the sorcerer towards where Skafloc was sat, tossing cheery winks at the women in the room as he did so. He was about to address the barbarian, but he noticed how bad Avelaer looked first, and paused in his speech for a second, seemingly weighing up saying something before turning away, it wasn’t something he would bring up now, and it would be overly nosy to enquire if he had even tried to reach reverie, because he certainly didn’t look like he had done so. Anyway… “All set for today big guy?” He asked the massive figure of the barbarian happily, “been a while since I’ve seen you whip people’s limbs off,” observed the Elf, remembering the innumerable combatants that he’d seen fall to Skafloc’s blade during their time on the Orosto. “I missed out on yesterdays fun, but I can promise that anything we achieve today will soon become a song to be sung!” tossing a grape into his mouth he continued, “well, anything of suitable valour, I’ll be damned if I’ll compose anything about a great victory over a goblin tribe… Has to be at least a Manticore now!” |
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| eocine | Feb 12 2007, 10:12 AM Post #191 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Anaara came out of her reverie easily, her mind feeling far less cluttered for having been able to rest in peaceful and familiar surroundings for the first time in a long while. In the course of this state of heightened relaxation she had been able to reorder her thoughts and cull the wheat from the chaff so to speak, discard what was desirable from what was truly important and go on from that position. This had led to her feeling more at peace than she had in a long time, though she was of course not unaware of the dangers and careful planning that still lay ahead of her, at least now she was able to be reasonably confident of not overly rushing through the stages, and thus damaging her chances of success through impatience, a trait that she recognised that she had. She lifted herself gracefully off the silk sheets of her bed and placed her feet against the cold marble of the floor, smiling slightly at the sudden sensation, before walking across to the bath, from which steam still rose. The silken sheath she had worn last night lay now in a discarded pile by the bed, and so she simply slid herself into the deep waters. Submerging herself totally at first, she then rose from the water enough that it covered her from the jaw down, before she leant back against the stone side of the bath. The plan she had both thrilled and scared her, though she would never admit to the latter, in both their scope and what she would herself have to undertake to succeed. But if she did manage to find success then she would be well placed in the Drow society, and from that could come virtually untold power! She was getting ahead of herself she knew, and forced her thoughts back onto more mundane things… Like the day ahead, for this planning would all be for nought were she to perish today… But she couldn’t turn tail and run either, for the company she currently kept were an important part of reaching the future that she saw for herself, and she wouldn’t be able to get there alone. More than that though she couldn’t afford to have them die before it was convenient for her own plans… What this meant of course was that she would have to pray for spells that would aid her allies as well as herself, as well as a few that could aid her escape should she need it, because as much as she wished to see the plan through to fruition, she wasn’t enough of a stubborn fool to die for it. Once she considered herself to have abluted for a sufficient amount of time she rose from the water and dabbed herself dry, before dressing in the now dry clothes from yesterday… They were hardly likely to set the scene in terms of sartorial elegance, but they were all she had and thus would have to do, because there was no chance of her asking the Sunite for a loan of something, and unfortunately the clothes in the mansion would simply cease to exist in the world outside of it, and whilst the Drow weren’t exactly shy about showing off their bodies there were factors of warmth and comfort to be dealt with. Besides which going naked was just possibly taking thing a little bit too far… She combed out her hair and put a pair of clips in to keep it away from her face, but she didn’t restrain it any more than that, her vanity would not allow it. Finally she laid the borrowed armor by the door, along with the few other items that she’d been able to alvage, before heading down to the dining room, her feet still bare against the floor. Once inside she steadfastly ignored the gathered company, and found a comparatively empty part of the table and sat down, before nibbling at a piece of star-fruit and passing her eyes appraisingly over the various members of the party, noting who looked well rested and relaxed and who still looked haunted and tired… For it often proved easier to manipulate those whose minds were befuddled, be it by tiredness or stress. Or naked lust of course… She thought dryly at the look the bard shot her across the table, considering that it might be best to toss the dog an occasional bone… But not yet, let the fool surfacer work for it for as long as she deemed prudent. |
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| Castamir | Feb 12 2007, 11:28 AM Post #192 |
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Native
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"I'm always ready." answered Skafloc, grinning at the arrival of his friend. "I've been thinking of things to help you with your creative writing," commented the most unlikely man to have ever considered anything of the sort, "I've noticed that if I catch them right with an upswing on a sunny day, the fine spray of body fluids makes a rainbow if you look hard enough. Perhaps you can sing of it's beauty?" He grinned at this contribution to the bardic genre, and tore a chunk out of the bread he was holding. "Close your mouth Kell, you wouldn't want to get drool on your clothes." he said to the bard as Anaara entered the room. |
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| eocine | Feb 12 2007, 11:43 AM Post #193 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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Caine had slept the sleep of the dead, too tired to even dream, and it was perhaps this that had saved him more than the others from the after effects of imprisonment and his coldly clinical torture. When he awoke it was to an unusual feeling, one that he hadn’t felt in far too long, a feeling of zero pain upon waking, this at least meant that the day had started on hundred percent better than it normally did. Rolling out from beneath the furs he headed immediately into the small sauna, stoking the hot coals up to an inferno before ladling water over them, and then sitting himself down, enjoying that curious prickling as his pores opened and his body tried to respond to the sudden increase in heat. Once he felt himself as accustomed to the warmth as he could be he stood up and began to jog lightly on the spot, for a time, then began a series of stretches and pull ups on a set of bars. Given the temperature it wasn’t long before the sweat was positively streaming off him, and splattering onto the floor, from where it too soon evaporated. When he felt himself going light headed he made his way towards the door, hurriedly opening it and rushing across to the second of his bathrooms. The ice bath was to the left of the room, and it was there he went, taking one massive gasp of air before dropping himself directly into the icy cold water. Instantly he felt the numbing chill pour through his system, and his teeth clamped together as his body tried to first make sense of, and then regulate, the massive change in environment his body was going through. In a few moments though he felt his core begin to cool, and as soon as that happened he gripped the two handles and wrenched himself out of the frigid waters, sending a torrent gushing to the floor, and headed to the final bath, which was heated to a pleasing warmth. Laying back in the water he gave a contented sigh, reaching up to run his finger tips over the stubble that now adorned his jaw line. He considered shaving, but given the fact that he would be spending most of the day in one of his other forms decided that this would be wasted effort…. After soaking for a while he rose and dried off, before donning the same leathers he’d worn yesterday and heading towards the door. He pushed open the dining room door and strode forwards, dropping into the nearest available seat before pulling a plate of salted meats towards himself and starting to eat. As he sat he began to look at the other party members. Not really being up to speed on the whole ‘polite conversation’ thing he looked across at the blade-singer, “you look like hell…Tonight I suggest you drink well before trying to sleep.” |
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| eocine | Feb 12 2007, 12:46 PM Post #194 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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It would have to be said that Kellindel was more than a tad dubious over the artistic merits of songs featuring lines comparing arterial spray favourably to any other kind of beauty, and songs speaking of the rainbows they made even less so. Still, there were of course crowds that would lap up that kind of thing, and he’d played in front of them before, and doubtless would again before long. The problem was of course that the looks he’d been getting from his fellow Elves had been getting progressively stranger as time had gone by. But unfortunately they weren’t strange enough yet, and this kind of thing was virtually certain to have the right kind of effect! It would also annoy his sister’s husband immensely, and that was something to be embraced at any and all costs. Yes… Screw artistic merit, provided a song achieved either getting him money, annoying people he didn’t like, or getting him laid then it could easily be considered to be a success. “You know what?” He asked back of the barbarian, a genuine grin now on his face as he bit a few grapes straight from the bunch, “I really think that I can do something with that, though I can’t promise that it’ll be ready in time for the festivities that will of course follow the glorious battles we’ll be having today.” Of course if the truth were told he hadn’t seen a lot of ‘glorious battle’ in a while, preferring instead to fight his battles in the war-grounds of both bedroom and taphouse, still there was an undeniable rush that came from knowing you were about to risk both life and limb… A rush that often threatened to be out of his rear end when he contemplated his own potentially violent slaughter, but still, you had to laugh didn’t you? There were times, and they weren’t often, that Kellindel wondered if the Gods were collectively smiling upon him… Firstly there was Fade and her crimson hair and impressive rack, then Llana with her slender body and pert posterior, and finally Anaara, with her glorious thighs and mane of white hair… All of which had haunted his dreams at varying times last night. It was like his own version of some kind of heaven. At Skafloc’s comment though he snapped his jaw closed and turned back to the warrior, not looking in the slightest bit bashful at being caught in the act. It was hardly the first time after all, and almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. “I tell you wearing a bib would be a small sacrifice”, chuckled the Elf as he forced his eyes to stay away from the gathered females. “On the subject of women folk I take it you’ve seen nothing of the crew?” |
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| Castamir | Feb 12 2007, 02:56 PM Post #195 |
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Native
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Skafloc visibly winced when Kellindel asked about the crew of the Orosto. He raised his eyebrows and considered his answer, choosing his words carefully. "No, I've seen nothing of the crew. I briefly ran into the pirate we rescued, you remember the one that was all piss and wind? But as for the others," he shrugged his shoulders, "I left the Orosto shortly after you did. Rain was leaving, and things were a little, eh, uncomfortable with some of the remaining crewmembers, at least that's how I saw it." "Besides," he said, after pausing to consider his words some more, "after speaking at length to Rain, I wanted return to face my demons on home turf." he finally said, nodding towards Fade with a wry smile, "No offense meant to the demons present." |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 12 2007, 03:59 PM Post #196 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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Fade said nothing at first to the assembled party members; she just sat down, poured a glass of water and helped herself to a hunk of bread, some of the cured meat and a grapes. After nibbling at one edge of the bread, she was surprised to find that she didn't feel sick in the least - just a the tell-tale headache that mixing lotus and alcohol always induced in her. Glancing at each person in turn, she could see that ther majority of them looked pretty rested; only Avelaer probably looked worse than she did. For a brief moment, she wondered if she should have offered him some of her secret stash... and then had to take a gulp of water from her glass to cover a little grin at that thought. Like a goody-two-shoes fullblood like him would ever condone the use of narcotics, even if it was for medicinal purposes... Listening to the ensuing conversation, the fey'ri kept her head down and concentrated on her breakfast, unwilling to meet anyones eyes, only looking up briefly when Anaara and then Caine joined them. At Skafloc's comment, she just shrugged. "None taken." His comment, however, did focus her thoughts on what they might be facing this very day - that this might actually be the day she taught her dear suspected Uncle a good lesson. Families were a complicated thing amongst the fey'ri, and monogamy was simply unheard of. It had led somewhat to the stagnation of her race whilst they were captive - and some interesting abominations too, which was only inevitable when the only fresh blood you could get was of pure demonic stock - simply because half the time you didn't know who you were related to or not. The only reason Fade suspected her father was actually her father was simply because he hadn't tried it on the minute she had reached maturity, and since Vaerilmor was largely recognised to be Cirion's half brother, that probably made him her uncle. Well, it would have done if the fey'ri even had a word for 'uncle'. Scowling a little, the rogue took another draught of water and then looked over to Llana. "How long's this place got until it disappears?" |
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| eocine | Feb 12 2007, 05:47 PM Post #197 |
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Sometimes you just have to burn the card fate dealt you.
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“You mean the one that stabbed you in the ass?” He grinned, still treasuring that moment for its general hilarity amongst the distinctly less funny battle against the dreaded vampire whatshisname. Ugh, that whole journey was mostly one big bad memory, interspersed only with a few good ones that had come from hanging out with Skafloc and Rain, the decidedly odd half-orc druidess that had also become part of the crew. “To be honest it was uncomfortable from the get go from what I remember…” Which was entirely true, and he and Skafloc hadn’t really been an overly good fit amongst the rest of the crew. “What was that paladin’s name?” He asked, memory failing him… “Mary wasn’t it?” No that didn’t sound quite right… “Sue, perhaps?” Again though he had the distinct feeling that wasn’t correct either… “Oh yes, Kryssa! That was it!” He sounded pleased with the fact he’d been able to remember. “Didn’t she also have a horse called Starbright? Or was it Sunshine?” He shuddered at the memory, “something like that anyway…” He nodded at Skafloc’s final explanation, knowing well enough of the demons that his friend carried on his shoulders regarding the Orcish hordes that were still astonishingly prevalent amongst the most northern reaches of Faerun… At Fade’s reaction to his words he decided to keep his own council for the time being, this was certainly not the time for him to renew his assault upon her virtue… |
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| Pamela | Feb 12 2007, 08:00 PM Post #198 |
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Molly
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Llana turned at Kellindel’s exuberant entrance, shaking her head but smiling. She was privately relieved that he hadn’t hurried to render himself into another stupor. One spell spared… She had no idea whether the fey’ri were fond of poison, but at least she was prepared for that eventuality. She watched Anaara’s brusque entrance, privately annoyed but her face revealed nothing. Her dislike of the Drow wasn’t racially-based, although religious politics did have some role. Manipulation through sex was something she abhorred on both religious and personal grounds. But then we never like to see our own faults magnified, do we… She looked up at Fade’s question. “We have another four hours,” she said. “I doubt we will spend our entirety in here however; waiting will only make us all restless otherwise.” She looked at the fey’ri with curiosity. “Was there any particular reason you asked?” |
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| Castamir | Feb 12 2007, 08:00 PM Post #199 |
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Native
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Skafloc was grateful Kellindel had skipped over certain other members of the crew. He'd had an itch to scratch and that had happened to coincide with an itch one of the other member's had had, though a large amount of rum had been involved, and Skafloc had learned why when certain itches had to be scratched it was worth scratching them with wenches in taverns that he wasn't going to have to live and work with, because regardless of their attitude at the time, things would inevitably become awkward. "Yes, that's the one. Had worse injuries caused by so-called allies though. Not that I'm encouraging anyone here to try it.." the barbarian narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room as he spoke, but there was humour there. "I thought it was Starburst." he laughed, he'd not really taken the paladin seriously. Not because she were female, because he was of the opinion that women were far more fierce that men could be when they put their minds to it, but because she'd spent her entire time wanting to be alone yet at the same time wanting to 'talk', or mooning over the better looking members of the crew or a mirror. Oh, and talking to her weapon and/or her horse, possibly because her weapon was very shiny and she could see her reflection in it, and her horse made her feel clever. Skafloc had been the frontline fighter then too, and he'd decided early on that Krissa was entirely decorative, though strangely annoying. |
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| Mistress Elysia | Feb 12 2007, 08:41 PM Post #200 |
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When in doubt, assume you rolled a natural 1
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The fey'ri shook her head at Llana's answer. "No reason. Just wanted to know when we'd be leaving. You know, get prepared and everything." she finished the last of the grapes on her plate. "How many more amulets do we need?" She tried to sound casual, but couldn't keep the tight note out of her voice. She followed the conversation between the elf and barbarian simply as is was something to distract her from some decidedly unsavoury - or savoury, depending upon opinions regarding revenge - thoughts. At the mention of the paladin, Fade couldn't help but snort in derisive amusement. She had little time for the holy warriors for two main reasons: one - wherever she went, it was as if they queued up to be the one who parted her from her life and two - a fair few of them were the biggest hypocrits out after recognising a couple of them on the streets from her days in the Brotherhood's harem. Still, the ones that were hypocrits were probably better than the overly righteous ones that seemingly came complete with rods shoved firmly up their backsides. "Starburst? You're kidding, right? She named her horse Starburst? Sounds like one of those pansy fizzy wines the fullbloods make... Let me guess. The damn thing was white and brave and located small children that had fallen down wells too?" |
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