Good story.
It's not easy being horn-ed...
-
Mon-da-oth
- Forum Troll
- Posts: 2013
- Joined: Sat Sep 23, 2006 2:21 am
- Main Player Character: Rhode Wraigh
- Other PCs: Reginald Schudotter
- Location: Edgewood, MD
-
Chia
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 432
- Joined: Fri Jan 12, 2007 5:43 pm
- Main Player Character: A paladin. Honest!
- Location: Anywhere, as long as it has shinies.
Thank you all for reading 
It is just immensely entertaining to see several random spur-of-the-moment things come together to impact a character in a rather unforseen way.
Though now I'm scared about Chia's longevity, or lack thereof...
All because certain pervy creep could not keep his alchemist's fire to himself
Life's so not fair!
It is just immensely entertaining to see several random spur-of-the-moment things come together to impact a character in a rather unforseen way.
Though now I'm scared about Chia's longevity, or lack thereof...
All because certain pervy creep could not keep his alchemist's fire to himself
Life's so not fair!
I am not contrary!
-
Mon-da-oth
- Forum Troll
- Posts: 2013
- Joined: Sat Sep 23, 2006 2:21 am
- Main Player Character: Rhode Wraigh
- Other PCs: Reginald Schudotter
- Location: Edgewood, MD
-
Chia
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 432
- Joined: Fri Jan 12, 2007 5:43 pm
- Main Player Character: A paladin. Honest!
- Location: Anywhere, as long as it has shinies.
"Pick friends with care..."
((continued from viewtopic.php?t=3529))
It was odd walking after the apparently cowed Roggins. Many times before, she would find herself doing her best to dodge out of the way of the usually strong-willed dwarf, if simply to avoid another tirade of harsh words because of such pittances as a water leak, or being too loud at customers, or some other such irrelevancies.
“Right this way, miss”
The dwarf’s voice seemed oddly weak, too. Most likely he realized just how unfair his treatment of her was. She was certainly surprised by the boy delivering a handwritten invitation to Mistyvale by its owner himself.
Travis sure knew how to write a letter, even if it took a while for a reaction.
She paused by the door of the room she used to occupy, glancing at the dwarf.
“Here?”
The dwarf shook his head, and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger passing through her face. However, in a blink of an eye it disappeared, the dwarf’s face setting into the unusually servitidious expression as he shook his head.
“This one still needs some… repair. This way, please”
He turned, walking her further down the corridor. With increasing surprise, she walked behind Roggins toward the largest suite the inn offered.
The door creaked, revealing the spacious room beyond. Scented candles fluttered in the movement of the air. A large tub, far bigger than what she had available before, was slowly bubbling its frothy contents, with a small arrangement to the side holding a large set of pliers and a stack of small stones, steaming in the air, to be placed in the metal casing to the side of the tub should the water turn cold. A plate of fruit, on a side table, along with another holding selection of cheeses, complimented the two tall flasks of her favorite “fizzy.”
“Whoa….”
She glanced at the dwarf suspiciously.
“I don’t have to pay for it, you said?”
Roggins rubbed his hands together, another odd flash passing through his face too quickly to read.
“Everything has been paid for in full, along with any additional requests. Please let me know if you desire anything else.”
Her face wrinkled with the deepening wariness. The room screamed expenses, and, odd enough as it may be, she somehow managed to develop a streak of distrust toward such generous gifts. Anyway…
“Hey, so who pays for this, huh?”
The dwarf shifted with clear discomfort. Knowingly or not, his behavior was putting an extra edge to the situation. She did not recognize Roggins, who was usually either screaming at her, or tolerate her with just a hint of a warning in his words to keep her, mostly, in check.
“I am afraid I was asked not to reveal the identity of the benefactor”
“Oh, come on! I won’t tell anybody that you told me”
He gave her an odd look that made her twitch and glance quickly over her shoulder before she realized the intent.
“Please, do not ask”
“Um…”
“Please.”
The last word, while coupled with a little bow and a gesture of his hand toward the room, carried enough of the old Roggins in it to make her realize any further requests would do little to change the situation.
Shrugging, she entered the room. All the Buck had were small basins for a quick wash-over, and her most recent attempt to pay for a private room at the bath-house was met with a sneer and a suggestion to use the sewers. And the Mill was far too far. The cheeses looked also rather appetizing, and her stomach quickly announced its objections to the skipped breakfast earlier on.
In the light of the candles, the bottles of the special gnomish wine sparkled at her invitingly.
*
The water was soothing and relaxing. Whatever it was that Roggins used, she was going to have to ask where he got it, her usual bathing accessories having nothing on both the feeling and aroma of the scented water. The fruit and cheeses had been savaged, and she felt the lethargy of a good meal spreading through her body. The glass of “fizzy,” its yellow contents glimmering with the bubbles settling over the glass’s inner surface, complemented the wonderful afternoon.
Travis really could write…
She glanced toward the large bed, the fluffy pillows and covers promising an indulgence she rarely had a chance to experience. Whatever happened to the world, there was really little point in questioning the sudden change. Maybe the gods decided she suffered enough. That must have had been it. She vaguely considered making a donation next time she visited a temple of Teshalia…
Her slowly closing eyes caught the small box resting on the night table. They snapped open, her curiosity giving her a burst of energy as a replacement of the nonexistent will to move.
She picked up the pliers and, hitting the floor a few times with the end as she extended her arm as far as she could, managed to clutch at one the night-table’s legs. With an effort that probably was greater than that required to get out of the bath and pick up the box itself, she dragged the table toward the tub.
Halfway through, the leg stuck on a miniscule difference in the elevation of one of the planks of the floor. As she increased the force of the pull, the table wobbled, then crashed on its side, sending the box through the remaining distance to the tub and under it.
With a light frown at the contrariness of unanimated objects, she reached with the pliers under the tub, nudging the box out. It tumbled, resting on the side with its lid halfway open away from her sight.
No precious gems or jewelry spilled out, either. She was disappointed.
A few more nudges of her pliers turned the box around. There seemed to be an irregular wrapping of some sort inside, and she maneuvered the pliers until their ends could gently close over it. With a deft pull, she extracted the mysterious package. Much to her surprise, what she took as covering spread on the floor, revealing no other content inside.
It took her a moment before her mind allowed the reality of it to seep in.
*
The window of the exclusive suite exploded, its tinted glass showering downward along with pieces of the broken window frame. The large pack, unceremoniously used to break the window, flew further outward before dropping down to the ground with a loud crash of its metallic contents. A female figure, wearing just a few pieces of wet clothing draped about her gray body in disarray of a clearly hastened process of dressing, jumped out. She landed on the small thatched overhang protecting the back door, bounced off of it disregarding the odd cut from the broken glass sprinkled over, then landed down next to her belongings.
Picking up the pack and ignoring the slow seeping of broken potions from within it, Chia sped away from the inn toward the nearest sewer grate, with an occasional terrified gaze cast about.
Spread on the wet floor of the inn’s room, the gruesome mask of a woman’s skinned face looked up at the ceiling. A droplet of water, fallen into the empty eye hole, glimmered in the light of the candles, giving the ghastly peel a sense of macabre animation.
It was odd walking after the apparently cowed Roggins. Many times before, she would find herself doing her best to dodge out of the way of the usually strong-willed dwarf, if simply to avoid another tirade of harsh words because of such pittances as a water leak, or being too loud at customers, or some other such irrelevancies.
“Right this way, miss”
The dwarf’s voice seemed oddly weak, too. Most likely he realized just how unfair his treatment of her was. She was certainly surprised by the boy delivering a handwritten invitation to Mistyvale by its owner himself.
Travis sure knew how to write a letter, even if it took a while for a reaction.
She paused by the door of the room she used to occupy, glancing at the dwarf.
“Here?”
The dwarf shook his head, and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger passing through her face. However, in a blink of an eye it disappeared, the dwarf’s face setting into the unusually servitidious expression as he shook his head.
“This one still needs some… repair. This way, please”
He turned, walking her further down the corridor. With increasing surprise, she walked behind Roggins toward the largest suite the inn offered.
The door creaked, revealing the spacious room beyond. Scented candles fluttered in the movement of the air. A large tub, far bigger than what she had available before, was slowly bubbling its frothy contents, with a small arrangement to the side holding a large set of pliers and a stack of small stones, steaming in the air, to be placed in the metal casing to the side of the tub should the water turn cold. A plate of fruit, on a side table, along with another holding selection of cheeses, complimented the two tall flasks of her favorite “fizzy.”
“Whoa….”
She glanced at the dwarf suspiciously.
“I don’t have to pay for it, you said?”
Roggins rubbed his hands together, another odd flash passing through his face too quickly to read.
“Everything has been paid for in full, along with any additional requests. Please let me know if you desire anything else.”
Her face wrinkled with the deepening wariness. The room screamed expenses, and, odd enough as it may be, she somehow managed to develop a streak of distrust toward such generous gifts. Anyway…
“Hey, so who pays for this, huh?”
The dwarf shifted with clear discomfort. Knowingly or not, his behavior was putting an extra edge to the situation. She did not recognize Roggins, who was usually either screaming at her, or tolerate her with just a hint of a warning in his words to keep her, mostly, in check.
“I am afraid I was asked not to reveal the identity of the benefactor”
“Oh, come on! I won’t tell anybody that you told me”
He gave her an odd look that made her twitch and glance quickly over her shoulder before she realized the intent.
“Please, do not ask”
“Um…”
“Please.”
The last word, while coupled with a little bow and a gesture of his hand toward the room, carried enough of the old Roggins in it to make her realize any further requests would do little to change the situation.
Shrugging, she entered the room. All the Buck had were small basins for a quick wash-over, and her most recent attempt to pay for a private room at the bath-house was met with a sneer and a suggestion to use the sewers. And the Mill was far too far. The cheeses looked also rather appetizing, and her stomach quickly announced its objections to the skipped breakfast earlier on.
In the light of the candles, the bottles of the special gnomish wine sparkled at her invitingly.
*
The water was soothing and relaxing. Whatever it was that Roggins used, she was going to have to ask where he got it, her usual bathing accessories having nothing on both the feeling and aroma of the scented water. The fruit and cheeses had been savaged, and she felt the lethargy of a good meal spreading through her body. The glass of “fizzy,” its yellow contents glimmering with the bubbles settling over the glass’s inner surface, complemented the wonderful afternoon.
Travis really could write…
She glanced toward the large bed, the fluffy pillows and covers promising an indulgence she rarely had a chance to experience. Whatever happened to the world, there was really little point in questioning the sudden change. Maybe the gods decided she suffered enough. That must have had been it. She vaguely considered making a donation next time she visited a temple of Teshalia…
Her slowly closing eyes caught the small box resting on the night table. They snapped open, her curiosity giving her a burst of energy as a replacement of the nonexistent will to move.
She picked up the pliers and, hitting the floor a few times with the end as she extended her arm as far as she could, managed to clutch at one the night-table’s legs. With an effort that probably was greater than that required to get out of the bath and pick up the box itself, she dragged the table toward the tub.
Halfway through, the leg stuck on a miniscule difference in the elevation of one of the planks of the floor. As she increased the force of the pull, the table wobbled, then crashed on its side, sending the box through the remaining distance to the tub and under it.
With a light frown at the contrariness of unanimated objects, she reached with the pliers under the tub, nudging the box out. It tumbled, resting on the side with its lid halfway open away from her sight.
No precious gems or jewelry spilled out, either. She was disappointed.
A few more nudges of her pliers turned the box around. There seemed to be an irregular wrapping of some sort inside, and she maneuvered the pliers until their ends could gently close over it. With a deft pull, she extracted the mysterious package. Much to her surprise, what she took as covering spread on the floor, revealing no other content inside.
It took her a moment before her mind allowed the reality of it to seep in.
*
The window of the exclusive suite exploded, its tinted glass showering downward along with pieces of the broken window frame. The large pack, unceremoniously used to break the window, flew further outward before dropping down to the ground with a loud crash of its metallic contents. A female figure, wearing just a few pieces of wet clothing draped about her gray body in disarray of a clearly hastened process of dressing, jumped out. She landed on the small thatched overhang protecting the back door, bounced off of it disregarding the odd cut from the broken glass sprinkled over, then landed down next to her belongings.
Picking up the pack and ignoring the slow seeping of broken potions from within it, Chia sped away from the inn toward the nearest sewer grate, with an occasional terrified gaze cast about.
Spread on the wet floor of the inn’s room, the gruesome mask of a woman’s skinned face looked up at the ceiling. A droplet of water, fallen into the empty eye hole, glimmered in the light of the candles, giving the ghastly peel a sense of macabre animation.
I am not contrary!
-
Chia
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 432
- Joined: Fri Jan 12, 2007 5:43 pm
- Main Player Character: A paladin. Honest!
- Location: Anywhere, as long as it has shinies.
Some three years ago...
“Looking for some fun, girl?”
The smell of ale, onions, and parts of various animals, one hoped, inexpertly minced into what passed in the inn for sausages, came along with the words out of the mouth of a large man leaning over the slim figure slumping on a stool by the bar. His small, deep-set eyes were focusing on the female he was addressing, the fingers of one hand flexing unconsciously.
A gray-skinned face, drawn in sensuous lines, turned to the side, orange pupils contracting in the light of the candles sputtering on a large candelabra hanging from the middle of the ceiling. With a set of small horns, partially lost among the unruly and chaotic cut of white hair, there was little else needed to categorize the queried girl as a tiefling.
Her lips twitched, turning down in an expression of open disgust as she took stock of the man to her side. A moment later, they curved in a smile as sudden as the rest of the expressions flashing through her face. Her eyes, however, remained narrowed.
“How about… ‘no’? Push off, pal, I’m trying to enjoy my drink here”
With a fluid gesture she threw the side of her cloak backward, freeing an arm to point at the tall glass in front of her. The same gesture uncovered a small hand axe, with a dark blade carrying magic marks of enchantment and handle smoothed by frequent use, hanging at the side of her belt.
The leather armor the female wore was, even in the dimmed light of the inn, of very fine quality, smoothly tracing the shape of the comely body underneath. A large pouch was affixed to her belt behind the axe sheath and several smaller ones trailed the length of the belt as it curved under the cloak. Another belt crossed her chest, supported by the left shoulder, with more leather pouches attached to it. A handle of a dagger protruded from an underside sheath.
All of this seemed to do little to discourage the large individual, as he exhibited a number of yellowed and missing teeth in a smile that somehow failed to reflect in his eyes. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he let out with another burst of bad breath.
“See now, pretty lady, what will happen is that we are going to have a drink. Cause if you don’t, I’ll show you how we treat demon-spawn in this part of the town, and that ain’t gonna be pretty”
The orange eyes contracted further, the pupils losing their roundness as they turned into cat-like horizontal slits. She glared daggers at the man, then, in one smooth movement, slid off of the stool and took a stance opposing him, a hand axe and a short sword held at the ready.
“Get lost, loser!”
Heads, already turning toward the commotion, snapped to it as the man proclaimed in a voice full of angry righteousness,
“Thief! First she stole, and now she threatens me!”
“I didn’t steal anything from you, you fat pig! He’s been trying to coup a feel!”
There was little compassion in the room. Unsurprising, since its reputation, or lack thereof, was the main reason she decided to give it a try after two of the “finer” establishments refused to serve her. In the end, it seemed to prove to be not so great of an idea after all. On the other hand…
There was a general shifting of people nearby indicating silent acceptance of a fight breaking up every now and then. Two men at a nearby table stood up, pulling on the hoods of their brownish cloaks before departing through the inn’s only public door, its hinges creaking as the rough wood swung back in place behind them.
She looked back at the man in front of her, letting the light play on the dark metal of her weapons. The flabby appearance of his body was attesting to the kind of odds she liked.
“So? Was going to show me something, huh, pal?”
Whatever the man’s reply was, it was interrupted by the booming voice of the innkeeper who was approaching after pulling out a large club from under the bar. It had the proverbial nail in it, as did his expression.
“I don’t need no guards snooping around my place because of the two of you. Get out, now. Both! You have some problems, take it outside!”
She cast a reproachful look at the innkeeper, pointing at the large man in front of her.
“Tell it to this guy. I was just having a drink.”
That seemed to do little to placate the voice of the very local authority. He gestured angrily at the door with the club. A muscular man, sitting at a table by the door, stood up and opened it helpfully, the expression on his face hinting at the entertainment possibilities if the suggestion was not taken under consideration. Judging from his look, he did not go merely for “bouncing” people, but offered full service, including a number of broken bones and a choice selection of a lost member or two.
The pig-man was already moving toward the door, proclaiming his hurt innocence to anybody interested – which, from the look of the audience, were few and far between. After one last glance at the innkeeper, she shrugged, sheathing the weapons and draping the cloak about her. It probably was still raining out there…
It was. She pulled her hood up, huddling under the heavy folds of the cloak. With that inn out of the question, it left just the stables as reasonable lodging. The muddy swamp that the roads tended to turn into under that kind of a weather were not something she looked forward to, and with the last haul from the lizard caves there was no immediate need for her to find anything new.
The town was getting on her nerves, though. The idea of traveling into a more civilized province seemed to hold such promises, back when. Of course, she failed to account into it all the prejudice and small-mindedness that, when all was said and done, was not so predominant out in the sticks where the weight of your gold spoke first.
So far, instead of indulging in fine clothes, exotic food and drinks, and large beds with fluffy mattresses, she was finding it difficult to get a decent bed to sleep in without being charged ridiculous amounts. She was thrown out of several tailor shops without even being able to show the money she had, had to pay guards off in several towns just to enter, and, worst of all, had to behave all the time.
She was looking forward to raiding some old ruins again, if only for the peace of it.
The club whistled in the air, the sound all that she needed to react. She stomped with her foot hard, sending a spray of manure-fragranced mud from under it, then swiveled on her heel resting on the hard ground underneath. Instead of hitting her head, the club merely brushed against her shoulder, realigning her cloak for moment before she tossed its folds back, drawing her weapons.
The pigman was there, leaned to the side as the weight and force of the missed strike pulled him ahead, with the two men that left before them moving into position to corner her into the cul de sac behind.
It took her a moment to assess the situation, shrug, then go along with it. Not like she had a choice, either.
Pigman, already out of balance, scored a kick to the back of his knee that caused his supporting leg to collapse, sending him down in the oh-so-fitting muck. She followed on, her short sword leaping forward to cut into the arm of the leading of the two remaining opponents. The man screamed, clutching at the deep gash in his flesh.
One more to go.
Her hand axe rose, intercepting the descending club and hooking it for a few heartbeats. She stepped in, fighting the urge to utilize the excellent target the man’s torso or, for that matter, exposed throat, presented. Towns, and town guards, were so difficult. Especially about corpses in the streets.
She gave a mental shrug, then stabbed down at the man’s thigh, wincing at the loud scream right by her ear. No consideration for others, at all. What did they expect, anyway? For her to roll over and play dead?
She pushed the man away, hearing him splash among the muck. The other of the two was leaning against a wall, looking down at his profusely bleeding arm with eyes widened by shock. Even in the rainy darkness she could see that a tourniquet would definitely helped there, so, there might turn out to be a corpse at the end of the night after all.
The pigman was just raising, better half of his body soiled by the indescribable mixture of substances flowing along the street. Civilized or not, this place could have put gutters to good use.
She stepped toward the pigman quickly, noticing with satisfaction the stiffening of his body as she lightly tapped his neck with the cold metal of the flat of her short sword. There was a sudden inclusion of a more immediately trickly noise among the splashes of the rain.
Amused, but not appreciative, none the less, she tapped the back of pigman’s head with her hand axe’s butt, kicking hard the unconscious body as it fell. All to make sure the man does not drown, really. And, maybe, in two weeks time, when his ribs still ache, he will, possibly, learn how to treat the ladies.
“You might want to wrap something around it, you know?” she mentioned passing by the man with cut arm, staring blankly at the liquid seeping between his hand clutched about the wound. The third man, in the meantime…
There was something wrong with his body’s position. There was something further wrong with the dark splotch, slowly being washed away, on a cut piece of former window bar sticking out of the wall. The wall below the bricked-up former window had another darker blot on it, and the puddles around the man also glimmered with a foreboding shade.
She quickly moved toward the immovable man, disbelieving her eyes. That kind of things simply never, ever happened, to anybody. On the other hand, it seemed rather obvious that they, or anything, for that matter, would not happen to her opponent, bleeding his last out of ragged hole in his neck.
On the other hand…
She glanced at the two other men. Decisions, decisions. It was all fine and well to kill the odd bandit or two, but civilization was oh so problematic when it came to the whole issue of self-defense… or maybe a bit of a preemptive defense. Not to mention the whole ancestry thing.
They were really leaving her no choice, were they? But then...
She shrugged. She was going to leave the town, anyway.
Passing by the man slumped against the wall she pulled a piece of leather strap from one of her pouches, tossing it at the moaning thug.
After all, she lived by her whims.
Edited for quality
“Looking for some fun, girl?”
The smell of ale, onions, and parts of various animals, one hoped, inexpertly minced into what passed in the inn for sausages, came along with the words out of the mouth of a large man leaning over the slim figure slumping on a stool by the bar. His small, deep-set eyes were focusing on the female he was addressing, the fingers of one hand flexing unconsciously.
A gray-skinned face, drawn in sensuous lines, turned to the side, orange pupils contracting in the light of the candles sputtering on a large candelabra hanging from the middle of the ceiling. With a set of small horns, partially lost among the unruly and chaotic cut of white hair, there was little else needed to categorize the queried girl as a tiefling.
Her lips twitched, turning down in an expression of open disgust as she took stock of the man to her side. A moment later, they curved in a smile as sudden as the rest of the expressions flashing through her face. Her eyes, however, remained narrowed.
“How about… ‘no’? Push off, pal, I’m trying to enjoy my drink here”
With a fluid gesture she threw the side of her cloak backward, freeing an arm to point at the tall glass in front of her. The same gesture uncovered a small hand axe, with a dark blade carrying magic marks of enchantment and handle smoothed by frequent use, hanging at the side of her belt.
The leather armor the female wore was, even in the dimmed light of the inn, of very fine quality, smoothly tracing the shape of the comely body underneath. A large pouch was affixed to her belt behind the axe sheath and several smaller ones trailed the length of the belt as it curved under the cloak. Another belt crossed her chest, supported by the left shoulder, with more leather pouches attached to it. A handle of a dagger protruded from an underside sheath.
All of this seemed to do little to discourage the large individual, as he exhibited a number of yellowed and missing teeth in a smile that somehow failed to reflect in his eyes. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he let out with another burst of bad breath.
“See now, pretty lady, what will happen is that we are going to have a drink. Cause if you don’t, I’ll show you how we treat demon-spawn in this part of the town, and that ain’t gonna be pretty”
The orange eyes contracted further, the pupils losing their roundness as they turned into cat-like horizontal slits. She glared daggers at the man, then, in one smooth movement, slid off of the stool and took a stance opposing him, a hand axe and a short sword held at the ready.
“Get lost, loser!”
Heads, already turning toward the commotion, snapped to it as the man proclaimed in a voice full of angry righteousness,
“Thief! First she stole, and now she threatens me!”
“I didn’t steal anything from you, you fat pig! He’s been trying to coup a feel!”
There was little compassion in the room. Unsurprising, since its reputation, or lack thereof, was the main reason she decided to give it a try after two of the “finer” establishments refused to serve her. In the end, it seemed to prove to be not so great of an idea after all. On the other hand…
There was a general shifting of people nearby indicating silent acceptance of a fight breaking up every now and then. Two men at a nearby table stood up, pulling on the hoods of their brownish cloaks before departing through the inn’s only public door, its hinges creaking as the rough wood swung back in place behind them.
She looked back at the man in front of her, letting the light play on the dark metal of her weapons. The flabby appearance of his body was attesting to the kind of odds she liked.
“So? Was going to show me something, huh, pal?”
Whatever the man’s reply was, it was interrupted by the booming voice of the innkeeper who was approaching after pulling out a large club from under the bar. It had the proverbial nail in it, as did his expression.
“I don’t need no guards snooping around my place because of the two of you. Get out, now. Both! You have some problems, take it outside!”
She cast a reproachful look at the innkeeper, pointing at the large man in front of her.
“Tell it to this guy. I was just having a drink.”
That seemed to do little to placate the voice of the very local authority. He gestured angrily at the door with the club. A muscular man, sitting at a table by the door, stood up and opened it helpfully, the expression on his face hinting at the entertainment possibilities if the suggestion was not taken under consideration. Judging from his look, he did not go merely for “bouncing” people, but offered full service, including a number of broken bones and a choice selection of a lost member or two.
The pig-man was already moving toward the door, proclaiming his hurt innocence to anybody interested – which, from the look of the audience, were few and far between. After one last glance at the innkeeper, she shrugged, sheathing the weapons and draping the cloak about her. It probably was still raining out there…
It was. She pulled her hood up, huddling under the heavy folds of the cloak. With that inn out of the question, it left just the stables as reasonable lodging. The muddy swamp that the roads tended to turn into under that kind of a weather were not something she looked forward to, and with the last haul from the lizard caves there was no immediate need for her to find anything new.
The town was getting on her nerves, though. The idea of traveling into a more civilized province seemed to hold such promises, back when. Of course, she failed to account into it all the prejudice and small-mindedness that, when all was said and done, was not so predominant out in the sticks where the weight of your gold spoke first.
So far, instead of indulging in fine clothes, exotic food and drinks, and large beds with fluffy mattresses, she was finding it difficult to get a decent bed to sleep in without being charged ridiculous amounts. She was thrown out of several tailor shops without even being able to show the money she had, had to pay guards off in several towns just to enter, and, worst of all, had to behave all the time.
She was looking forward to raiding some old ruins again, if only for the peace of it.
The club whistled in the air, the sound all that she needed to react. She stomped with her foot hard, sending a spray of manure-fragranced mud from under it, then swiveled on her heel resting on the hard ground underneath. Instead of hitting her head, the club merely brushed against her shoulder, realigning her cloak for moment before she tossed its folds back, drawing her weapons.
The pigman was there, leaned to the side as the weight and force of the missed strike pulled him ahead, with the two men that left before them moving into position to corner her into the cul de sac behind.
It took her a moment to assess the situation, shrug, then go along with it. Not like she had a choice, either.
Pigman, already out of balance, scored a kick to the back of his knee that caused his supporting leg to collapse, sending him down in the oh-so-fitting muck. She followed on, her short sword leaping forward to cut into the arm of the leading of the two remaining opponents. The man screamed, clutching at the deep gash in his flesh.
One more to go.
Her hand axe rose, intercepting the descending club and hooking it for a few heartbeats. She stepped in, fighting the urge to utilize the excellent target the man’s torso or, for that matter, exposed throat, presented. Towns, and town guards, were so difficult. Especially about corpses in the streets.
She gave a mental shrug, then stabbed down at the man’s thigh, wincing at the loud scream right by her ear. No consideration for others, at all. What did they expect, anyway? For her to roll over and play dead?
She pushed the man away, hearing him splash among the muck. The other of the two was leaning against a wall, looking down at his profusely bleeding arm with eyes widened by shock. Even in the rainy darkness she could see that a tourniquet would definitely helped there, so, there might turn out to be a corpse at the end of the night after all.
The pigman was just raising, better half of his body soiled by the indescribable mixture of substances flowing along the street. Civilized or not, this place could have put gutters to good use.
She stepped toward the pigman quickly, noticing with satisfaction the stiffening of his body as she lightly tapped his neck with the cold metal of the flat of her short sword. There was a sudden inclusion of a more immediately trickly noise among the splashes of the rain.
Amused, but not appreciative, none the less, she tapped the back of pigman’s head with her hand axe’s butt, kicking hard the unconscious body as it fell. All to make sure the man does not drown, really. And, maybe, in two weeks time, when his ribs still ache, he will, possibly, learn how to treat the ladies.
“You might want to wrap something around it, you know?” she mentioned passing by the man with cut arm, staring blankly at the liquid seeping between his hand clutched about the wound. The third man, in the meantime…
There was something wrong with his body’s position. There was something further wrong with the dark splotch, slowly being washed away, on a cut piece of former window bar sticking out of the wall. The wall below the bricked-up former window had another darker blot on it, and the puddles around the man also glimmered with a foreboding shade.
She quickly moved toward the immovable man, disbelieving her eyes. That kind of things simply never, ever happened, to anybody. On the other hand, it seemed rather obvious that they, or anything, for that matter, would not happen to her opponent, bleeding his last out of ragged hole in his neck.
On the other hand…
She glanced at the two other men. Decisions, decisions. It was all fine and well to kill the odd bandit or two, but civilization was oh so problematic when it came to the whole issue of self-defense… or maybe a bit of a preemptive defense. Not to mention the whole ancestry thing.
They were really leaving her no choice, were they? But then...
She shrugged. She was going to leave the town, anyway.
Passing by the man slumped against the wall she pulled a piece of leather strap from one of her pouches, tossing it at the moaning thug.
After all, she lived by her whims.
Edited for quality
Last edited by Chia on Fri Jun 29, 2007 4:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
I am not contrary!
-
ChikenKannon
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 1268
- Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2006 10:34 am
- Main Player Character: ------
- Other PCs: Haven't touched these in ages:
Lok'Tok
Lorne Mearesworth
Mars Benedict
Cpl John Mackev
Gutsnikk
Lorne Xavier Sunderson Falderhouse Skulltickler Mearesworth
Oronar - Location: Somewhere over the rainbow
-
Mon-da-oth
- Forum Troll
- Posts: 2013
- Joined: Sat Sep 23, 2006 2:21 am
- Main Player Character: Rhode Wraigh
- Other PCs: Reginald Schudotter
- Location: Edgewood, MD
-
KoolestLoser
- GLORIOUS DASARIAN
- Posts: 1132
- Joined: Fri Sep 22, 2006 10:42 pm
- Location: Reincarnated, dood.
-
Chia
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 432
- Joined: Fri Jan 12, 2007 5:43 pm
- Main Player Character: A paladin. Honest!
- Location: Anywhere, as long as it has shinies.
((Sometimes you just have to write, work tomorrow be damned. Dedicated to all the Kalem fans out there 
I blame all the unpolished parts of it on the really late hour.
*
“The Fox will be back soon. Make certain to increase the number of patrols, I do not want last time to repeat itself.”
The second-in-command of Cear’s branch of Kalem glared at the former second-in-command, by sheer luck still remaining alive after the unknown assailants looted the organization’s coffers she was left in charge of. With the Fox constantly out of town, creating an ever-larger network of operatives in the region, the post of second-in-command carried particularly heavy weight with it. Then again, with Teshalia’s grace it could also serve to increase the position of its holder in the always changing structure of the organization. People might think that being a Lieutenant to the Fox was an achievement enough, but not when there were new branches of the organization being created with spots to be filled on top of them.
“Also, put down some more traps around. Just yesterday we found two adventurers fried right at the first chamber. Somehow the word must be getting out. Find out how, and fix that, too.”
The sub-lieutenant, a rather curvy redhead with intensely green eyes, nodded. He was pleased with her capacity, even if she did have the misfortune of being in charge when the incident occurred. On the other hand, that put him in charge of her, not the other way around.
“And make sure our people know where the new traps are. Look at this one, you can’t even see the wires, and it was put down just a few moments ago…”
The man trailed off, squatting down in the gloom of the underground corridors. His trained eyes could see nothing but faint signs of where the trap used to be.
“Is it…?”
He nodded to his companion, quickly scanning the gloom around them.
“Somebody is here. Alert everybody, NOW!”
The sharp whistle from the sub-lieutenant was quickly multiplied as various members of the organization issued their own calls from whichever nooks and crannies they were busy at. One of the patrols, turning a corner, noticed them and began to pace up at the beckoning gesture of the Lieutenant.
“You three, make certain that-“
The man’s command was lost in the sudden, piercing cries, as the running trio jerked several times, then fell down bodily on the ground. The half orc among them arose on his arms slightly, gave them a baleful gaze, then slumped down on the ground.
“Careful!”
The two approached the prone figures, examining the ground ahead of them with intense care. Noticing no other surprises, the Lieutenant waited as his inferior checked on the three fallen.
“Should be fine after they recover. Looks like a nasty shock, though…”
Her words trailed off as the same idea struck both of them. The missing trap did carry lightning enchantment in it…
A sudden dread came upon the man, as he gazed at the corridor leading further into the underground complex, from which the patrol came.
*
“There were three of them! Well trained and armed! There is just one other pair of tracks here!”
He felt the exclamation marks multiplying in his voice. The female subordinate did not help the matters with the look of dark satisfaction.
“Stop standing here. Get all the men to start immediate patrols. All of them! Now!”
He looked at the bodies of another patrol. The halfling had but two wounds. Unfortunately for her, they pierced through the vein on her neck and, from the look of it, the heart. It was an exercise in futility which one killed her first.
The human fared even worse. Until they moved her head, there were no signs of injury on the man, nor blood around the body. Turning his head, however, revealed a deep hole where his eye used to be.
The half orc, on the other hand, looked like he attempted to snuggle a rabid and raging dire badger. His leather armor was hanging in shreds, with the wounds being relatively shallow, but so numerous that they bled him out before any of the nearby patrols could have had reacted to the sound of battle.
Not that it helped, either. The partially dissolved bodies of another three were lying to the side. Slightly further up the corridor was a juncture where he recalled ordering himself a particularly powerful acid trap to deter any intrusion.
Whomever the assailant was, they knew the layout of the hideout much too well for his liking, unerringly aiming toward the main holding area for the valuables… acquired from local merchants.
A movement beyond the door caught his sight. With incredulity, he watched one of their half-orcs approach him. This individual, for reasons unknown demanding to be called Jim the Sirloin, was of particularly impressive size and strength. Needless to say, this was well balanced by his general lack of… how to put it. Sense and comprehension.
Those musings aside, there was another thing on the Lieutenant’s mind. Unless his memory was incorrect, and one did not reach his position by it being so, mister Jim the Sirloin was ordered to guard the access to the most private of the quarters. In fact, the Lieutenant assigned him to that post because, unlike the rest of the available thugs, the half orc could not be bored by the tediousness of uneventful guard duty.
Taking an angry step toward the door, the Lieutenant paused in mid-step, recalling another trap being installed in the room beyond.
“Stop!”
Obediently, the half orc paused, one of his feet hanging just above the ground in what appeared to be rather uncomfortable position. Served him right.
“Do you see any trap there?”
The man’s face wrinkled in the effort of cogitation for what seemed to be agonizing eternity. Finally, the large head shook, with small specks of saliva flying from the underside of the oversized tusks.
“Can never be too careful…”
The Lieutenant stepped through the door, glaring at “Jim.”
“What are you doing here?! You were supposed to guard the trapdoor!”
The grayish-green face, all the more massive from this close up, wrinkled again, with just a trace of injured purpose in the expression.
“Da lady send Jim give gift to Mr. Boss.”
“What lady?”
“Da lady come a few times put tings in da... ur… vault”
He could feel his sanity slipping.
“What vault? We do not HAVE a vault!”
The half orc looked at the man with incomprehension, then extended the small box in his meaty hands toward the Lieutenant. His face twisted in the effort required to call forth memories.
“Lady come carry big sack. Say Mr. Boss say put stuff in da vault. Say give gift Mr. Boss.”
He snatched the box and, absent-mindedly, reached toward the top of it, glaring at the half orc. At the same time, a runner turned the corner, waving at the man furiously.
“Sir, the Fox is back!”
“WHAT LAD-?!”
Their overlapping voices were both muted by the sudden rush of the air, followed by a small explosion that sent echoes through the tunnels.
Some time later, they echoed much louder curses.
*
“So, this was left on the door?”
The Fox looked at the hairless and sooth-covered face of her, for the moment, second in command. The man’s face, bleeding from the numerous small burns, was twisted in an expression of all-consuming hatred.
“We just discovered the intrusion…”
He examined the bodies sprawled about the corridor, not failing to notice the numerous instances of missing valuables around. In fact, the first floor of the recently purchased house looked like somebody went through it, thoroughly, and removed anything and everything of value which was not nailed down, and hacked out of the walls everything which was.
The bodies themselves, formerly best of the Kalem cadre which was not moved to other regions to establish new bases of operation, were themselves stripped of their quality gear.
Large grooves were dug in the wooden planks of the floor where somebody must have dragged a large container of sorts filled with the spoils.
The Lieutenant’s eyes returned to the note handily being presented by the Fox herself. The message, in spiky handwriting, merely fueled further his rage:
So long, and thanks for the stuff!
His eyes moved upward, for a moment almost daring to lock with the cold eyes of the Fox, then skidded away to the side, looking at the woman’s look-alike lying in a pool of blood from a deep cut on the back of the neck.
The Fox herself moved closer toward the lying body, nudging it with her foot.
“Now you know why I did not wanted this charm to look expensive, I trust?”
Carefully kneeling down, the woman reached toward the dead twin’s boot, pulling it off. Instantly, the body shimmered, then turned into a dead male with a network of scars covering his face.
Using point of her dagger, the leader of Kalem pried a small disk of metal from a hidden compartment in the side of the boot’s sole. The point of the dagger, idly, turned at the man standing to her side.
“Fox… I swear, this was too fast for us to react. The traps…”
She waved the man off silent, looking at the half orc with missing eyebrows standing behind him.
“You say he saw this person?”
The Lieutenant nodded, feeling the bile raise in his throat. The organization had low tolerance to failure, and even the Fox’s relative leniency had its limits.
“So he says. I didn’t have time to figure that one out.”
The woman glanced at the sweating man, nodding, then turned toward the half orc, standing with an expression that was either very dangerously bored, or simply vacant.
“You saw that person before, then?”
“Yus. Lady come a few times before, say put things in da vault.”
“It was a woman.”
The statement, rather than question, might have been rhetorical, but the term was probably one of the many Jim did not know, or understood the concept of.
“Yus. Lady haf big sack.”
The Fox glanced at her formerly disgraced Lieutenant, the woman standing to the side with just a slight expression of enjoyment of her immediate superior’s plight. Her face quickly turned carefully neutral under the Fox’s gaze.
“She visited us a few times, then?”
Receiving no response, the Fox turned back to Jim with a sigh of slight exasperation.
“She visited us a few times, then?”
The repeated gesture received a vigorous nod of the large head, with a broad grin showing much too much of the tusks.
“Yus. Nice lady. Give Mr. Boss gift”
The Lieutenant swallowed hard, rubbing his palms against the leather of his armor.
“Fox, I swear to you, she will not do it again. I swear on my life!”
The leader of the Kalem turned around, with a feral expression that made one wonder where exactly she appropriated the name from. The small token flickered in the air toward the man, caught in a subconscious reaction.
Two Foxes were standing facing each other, now, and only the fading snarl distinguished them.
“You are quite correct in that.”
I blame all the unpolished parts of it on the really late hour.
*
“The Fox will be back soon. Make certain to increase the number of patrols, I do not want last time to repeat itself.”
The second-in-command of Cear’s branch of Kalem glared at the former second-in-command, by sheer luck still remaining alive after the unknown assailants looted the organization’s coffers she was left in charge of. With the Fox constantly out of town, creating an ever-larger network of operatives in the region, the post of second-in-command carried particularly heavy weight with it. Then again, with Teshalia’s grace it could also serve to increase the position of its holder in the always changing structure of the organization. People might think that being a Lieutenant to the Fox was an achievement enough, but not when there were new branches of the organization being created with spots to be filled on top of them.
“Also, put down some more traps around. Just yesterday we found two adventurers fried right at the first chamber. Somehow the word must be getting out. Find out how, and fix that, too.”
The sub-lieutenant, a rather curvy redhead with intensely green eyes, nodded. He was pleased with her capacity, even if she did have the misfortune of being in charge when the incident occurred. On the other hand, that put him in charge of her, not the other way around.
“And make sure our people know where the new traps are. Look at this one, you can’t even see the wires, and it was put down just a few moments ago…”
The man trailed off, squatting down in the gloom of the underground corridors. His trained eyes could see nothing but faint signs of where the trap used to be.
“Is it…?”
He nodded to his companion, quickly scanning the gloom around them.
“Somebody is here. Alert everybody, NOW!”
The sharp whistle from the sub-lieutenant was quickly multiplied as various members of the organization issued their own calls from whichever nooks and crannies they were busy at. One of the patrols, turning a corner, noticed them and began to pace up at the beckoning gesture of the Lieutenant.
“You three, make certain that-“
The man’s command was lost in the sudden, piercing cries, as the running trio jerked several times, then fell down bodily on the ground. The half orc among them arose on his arms slightly, gave them a baleful gaze, then slumped down on the ground.
“Careful!”
The two approached the prone figures, examining the ground ahead of them with intense care. Noticing no other surprises, the Lieutenant waited as his inferior checked on the three fallen.
“Should be fine after they recover. Looks like a nasty shock, though…”
Her words trailed off as the same idea struck both of them. The missing trap did carry lightning enchantment in it…
A sudden dread came upon the man, as he gazed at the corridor leading further into the underground complex, from which the patrol came.
*
“There were three of them! Well trained and armed! There is just one other pair of tracks here!”
He felt the exclamation marks multiplying in his voice. The female subordinate did not help the matters with the look of dark satisfaction.
“Stop standing here. Get all the men to start immediate patrols. All of them! Now!”
He looked at the bodies of another patrol. The halfling had but two wounds. Unfortunately for her, they pierced through the vein on her neck and, from the look of it, the heart. It was an exercise in futility which one killed her first.
The human fared even worse. Until they moved her head, there were no signs of injury on the man, nor blood around the body. Turning his head, however, revealed a deep hole where his eye used to be.
The half orc, on the other hand, looked like he attempted to snuggle a rabid and raging dire badger. His leather armor was hanging in shreds, with the wounds being relatively shallow, but so numerous that they bled him out before any of the nearby patrols could have had reacted to the sound of battle.
Not that it helped, either. The partially dissolved bodies of another three were lying to the side. Slightly further up the corridor was a juncture where he recalled ordering himself a particularly powerful acid trap to deter any intrusion.
Whomever the assailant was, they knew the layout of the hideout much too well for his liking, unerringly aiming toward the main holding area for the valuables… acquired from local merchants.
A movement beyond the door caught his sight. With incredulity, he watched one of their half-orcs approach him. This individual, for reasons unknown demanding to be called Jim the Sirloin, was of particularly impressive size and strength. Needless to say, this was well balanced by his general lack of… how to put it. Sense and comprehension.
Those musings aside, there was another thing on the Lieutenant’s mind. Unless his memory was incorrect, and one did not reach his position by it being so, mister Jim the Sirloin was ordered to guard the access to the most private of the quarters. In fact, the Lieutenant assigned him to that post because, unlike the rest of the available thugs, the half orc could not be bored by the tediousness of uneventful guard duty.
Taking an angry step toward the door, the Lieutenant paused in mid-step, recalling another trap being installed in the room beyond.
“Stop!”
Obediently, the half orc paused, one of his feet hanging just above the ground in what appeared to be rather uncomfortable position. Served him right.
“Do you see any trap there?”
The man’s face wrinkled in the effort of cogitation for what seemed to be agonizing eternity. Finally, the large head shook, with small specks of saliva flying from the underside of the oversized tusks.
“Can never be too careful…”
The Lieutenant stepped through the door, glaring at “Jim.”
“What are you doing here?! You were supposed to guard the trapdoor!”
The grayish-green face, all the more massive from this close up, wrinkled again, with just a trace of injured purpose in the expression.
“Da lady send Jim give gift to Mr. Boss.”
“What lady?”
“Da lady come a few times put tings in da... ur… vault”
He could feel his sanity slipping.
“What vault? We do not HAVE a vault!”
The half orc looked at the man with incomprehension, then extended the small box in his meaty hands toward the Lieutenant. His face twisted in the effort required to call forth memories.
“Lady come carry big sack. Say Mr. Boss say put stuff in da vault. Say give gift Mr. Boss.”
He snatched the box and, absent-mindedly, reached toward the top of it, glaring at the half orc. At the same time, a runner turned the corner, waving at the man furiously.
“Sir, the Fox is back!”
“WHAT LAD-?!”
Their overlapping voices were both muted by the sudden rush of the air, followed by a small explosion that sent echoes through the tunnels.
Some time later, they echoed much louder curses.
*
“So, this was left on the door?”
The Fox looked at the hairless and sooth-covered face of her, for the moment, second in command. The man’s face, bleeding from the numerous small burns, was twisted in an expression of all-consuming hatred.
“We just discovered the intrusion…”
He examined the bodies sprawled about the corridor, not failing to notice the numerous instances of missing valuables around. In fact, the first floor of the recently purchased house looked like somebody went through it, thoroughly, and removed anything and everything of value which was not nailed down, and hacked out of the walls everything which was.
The bodies themselves, formerly best of the Kalem cadre which was not moved to other regions to establish new bases of operation, were themselves stripped of their quality gear.
Large grooves were dug in the wooden planks of the floor where somebody must have dragged a large container of sorts filled with the spoils.
The Lieutenant’s eyes returned to the note handily being presented by the Fox herself. The message, in spiky handwriting, merely fueled further his rage:
So long, and thanks for the stuff!
His eyes moved upward, for a moment almost daring to lock with the cold eyes of the Fox, then skidded away to the side, looking at the woman’s look-alike lying in a pool of blood from a deep cut on the back of the neck.
The Fox herself moved closer toward the lying body, nudging it with her foot.
“Now you know why I did not wanted this charm to look expensive, I trust?”
Carefully kneeling down, the woman reached toward the dead twin’s boot, pulling it off. Instantly, the body shimmered, then turned into a dead male with a network of scars covering his face.
Using point of her dagger, the leader of Kalem pried a small disk of metal from a hidden compartment in the side of the boot’s sole. The point of the dagger, idly, turned at the man standing to her side.
“Fox… I swear, this was too fast for us to react. The traps…”
She waved the man off silent, looking at the half orc with missing eyebrows standing behind him.
“You say he saw this person?”
The Lieutenant nodded, feeling the bile raise in his throat. The organization had low tolerance to failure, and even the Fox’s relative leniency had its limits.
“So he says. I didn’t have time to figure that one out.”
The woman glanced at the sweating man, nodding, then turned toward the half orc, standing with an expression that was either very dangerously bored, or simply vacant.
“You saw that person before, then?”
“Yus. Lady come a few times before, say put things in da vault.”
“It was a woman.”
The statement, rather than question, might have been rhetorical, but the term was probably one of the many Jim did not know, or understood the concept of.
“Yus. Lady haf big sack.”
The Fox glanced at her formerly disgraced Lieutenant, the woman standing to the side with just a slight expression of enjoyment of her immediate superior’s plight. Her face quickly turned carefully neutral under the Fox’s gaze.
“She visited us a few times, then?”
Receiving no response, the Fox turned back to Jim with a sigh of slight exasperation.
“She visited us a few times, then?”
The repeated gesture received a vigorous nod of the large head, with a broad grin showing much too much of the tusks.
“Yus. Nice lady. Give Mr. Boss gift”
The Lieutenant swallowed hard, rubbing his palms against the leather of his armor.
“Fox, I swear to you, she will not do it again. I swear on my life!”
The leader of the Kalem turned around, with a feral expression that made one wonder where exactly she appropriated the name from. The small token flickered in the air toward the man, caught in a subconscious reaction.
Two Foxes were standing facing each other, now, and only the fading snarl distinguished them.
“You are quite correct in that.”
I am not contrary!