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Post by ceolsige on Mar 21, 2015 23:06:49 GMT
The kingdom Coresa waited for her old king to die without baited breath. The castle overlooking it was dark, but below, life went on the same as it had since Aunsellus was prince, since his father before him was a boy, and many before them. There was a festival in town which proceeded despite his sickness, and therefore there were more travelers passing into the gates than any other time in the year. The trees in the main square bore their first flowers for spring, and the streets were crowded with faces of varied shapes and colors. Though it was a human kingdom for the most part, a complete stranger wouldn't know entering today. There was music in the streets, and a strong fragrance of smoked meat and baking bread. In the most prominent tower of the castle, through a window dark to the outside, a man peered out into the throngs below. Behind him, in a bed with posts made from carved mahogany, the old king lay sleeping, probably, while one of his many nurses took away a mostly untouched plate of food. Only the cut of cake was taken, but one need only look toward the window to find it. Arnaud chewed slowly, jaw rotating in hypnotic rhythm before he swallowed and chased his cake with a swig straight from an antiquated bottle. "Won't be long now, m'lord," he said with a mite of slurring, dropping onto the wide sill of the window and crossing his ankles. "Hope you've been thinking on what I told you." The nurse glanced at him briefly before carrying the tray to the doorway. Only when she was at the safety of the exit did she sternly remind the advisor the king was sleeping. He smiled at the back of her as she disappeared into a dark hall before standing and making his way to the edge of the bed. He sat --heavily --enough to jar the old man and wake him. "Do you really want the weight of this land --of all of Coresa, while our good country is entering the throes of war, to fall on the shoulders of your dear Ayleth? Do you think she has the resources?" The old king wearily opened his eyes --one of which was milky and sightless, and made some sound of rumination, agreement or pain. "Before you go, Your Highness, I implore you to write out your wishes for this place." Arnaud removed a scroll from inside his coat and lifted the old man's hand, gently wrapping it in his bony fingers. "I've taken the pains of penning all of it. It needs only a signature from you, my lord." ... On the outskirts of Coresa, a camp of gypsies was set up just outside the kingdom's walls. The Strangers were not allowed to take up residence within due to the prejudices of the human locals, but they were allowed their day trips the same as any others. The path between their bright tents and caravans was kept clear for other travelers, and as the sun reached a high peak in the sky a band of bright lipizzan horses pulled a dark carriage along the road. There was audible dispute within the carriage, which was flanked by four guards. A stranger stood at the side of the road, waiting for the faster carriage to pass before he fell into step behind it. His fashion was far different from what one would find inside Coresa; his hair was shorn from the sides of his hair and he wore rings and bracelets --not unlike the gypsy men. There was something more sinister about the garb of this traveler than theirs, however; it lacked the bright colors and glass beads. Instead, crudely carved wooden beads decorated the hemp threads of his necklaces and the teeth and claws of vicious creatures were tied among them. He paid little attention to the strange carriage while shifting his cloth bag back onto his back and following toward the gates. |
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Post by schwarzschild on Mar 26, 2015 4:44:19 GMT
Hohks Within a sand-hued hut of flapping fabric, a large, ebon creature sat hunched, finding refuge from the licking midday sun amongst his parcels of herbs and dried poppies, in no particular locale of the bustling Coresa festival. Serpentine pillars of pungent incense drifted out from the tent’s narrow opening, intermingling with a nearby vendor’s wares of sweet, honied buns and succulent, stewed fruits. Though there was no prior thought to this settlement, he profited as drunken and excited faces peeled back the dusty tarp and dipped into his veritable den, seduced by the fragrance and leaving more frothy than their arrival— and with lighter pockets.
With each departure, he leaned forward into the column of light, peering past his patrons with an almond-shaped eye and into the breathing sea of festival-goers. A combination of exasperation and anxiety would conjure within his marred, labyrinthine chest, and in an effort of alleviation, he would lift an ornate, wooden pipe to his lips with one hand, and with his second, captured embers would heat and vaporize the substance within a long and slow drag, the evidence and his restlessness escaping from his flared nostrils. The wooden bench upon which he crouched creaked as he adjusted his position into a more relaxed measure, the tool returning to an ashen tray next to him. As the moments progressed, the cackling outside became murky and subsided, and he only stirred when a vistor made their way in.
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Post by Caleb on Mar 26, 2015 7:06:11 GMT
Audie.
The time of the festival was always favored by those looking to add to their collection of trinkets, cooking oils, antique gizmos, and anything illustrious and flashy that could certainly be shown off. It was the time where most anyone, human or otherwise, would shell out large quantities of coins or haggle concisely to get what they treasured most. It was also the time when they would celebrate their top shop victories with a multitude of lavish cocktails and knock back several goblets of any inebriation they could get their hands on. Fortunately, all of this added up for one certain sly and slim, sandy-blonde youngster. He'd traveled enough in his short years on this world, to know he can rack up quite nicely. The drunken creatures with their over-stuffed bags of novelties were a very nice pay off for the boy, and he planned on racking up this festival season. He had heard of the riches that Coresa was known for and started toward the kingdom a few weeks back. It was nice to have a path to go in for once. The lithe boy had wandered with no direction the past few months. Lost.
He was donned in a brown, over sized coat. The inside had many empty pockets that he intended to be full by nightfall. He mingled around the tents and ornately guilded creatures, and was glad he did make that trek. He made his way through the crowded brick streets, pushing past a many store goer. An elderly human lady was examining shiny orange and red plump fruits at one stand. He simply shadowed behind her, reached past her with his extended right arm and picked an engorged violet plum. As he rolled the juicy fruit in his palm, he said quite audibly, "These plums are a real beaut, bet you could make a mean pie, with these." Without making eye contact, he did direct the question in the elderly lady's direction. She turned up a very sweet smile, one that made her eyes squint from her round and soft cheeks. "Oh, sonny, no one 'round makes 'em as good as I do, that's the truth," she remarked. As she was talking, though, the blonde boy had maneuvered his free left hand down his side and into the elderly lady's purse, dangling from her frail right arm. It slid around the contents like a slippery snake until it felt the lumpy pouch of many coins. Grasping it firmly and swiftly, he retreated his left hand back out and into his brown coat pocket where he was now much happily more richer than before. "I have no doubts about that, my lady," he turned his head in her direction to meet her gaze, gave her a charmed smile and wink, then curtly turned on his heels and headed back out in the crowd. As he was getting lost amoung the festivities and trying to pinpoint his next roundup, he turned his attention to the budding castle in the distance that towered over the kingdom. It was marvelous in this sunlight, showing its meticulous construction of stone and brick, wood and grout. It was the kind of castle that made you feel very protected. Noble. Proud. When the sun would make its way past the castle towers, the shadow would embrace the kingdom like a gentle and warm hug. "A real beaut," the boy said to himself. He had direction now. Not lost.
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Post by Aisling on Mar 30, 2015 16:35:53 GMT
I see my dear one’s eyes in the dark, dark pool
Beneath the surface so dappled with light
I see my dear one’s eyes in water dark and cool
‘Til they sink so deep and far from my sight
I see my dear one’s hand reach out for mine
Through the surface so dappled with light
I see my dear one’s hand reach from the brine
‘Til fingers sink so deep and far from my sight Her voice was soft and deep, like the rumbling of distant thunder, and near drowned out by the raised voices of the occupants of the carriage. She shifted in her place, lifting a pair of lean legs to drape them over the lap of one of the arguing men. Shoulder blades pressed against the side of the carriage and eyes the color of ash peered from beneath a veil of thick lashes toward the camp of gypsies as they passed it by. A faint tremor passed through the feathers of her dark wings, which were coiled about her hips and legs and half spilling into the floor of the carriage. In the dimness of the enclosed space, the golden bands circling her ribs, hips, arms, and ankles were twinkling like distant stars, reflecting what light spilled in from the windows. A finger lifted and twisted a lock of hair that had been twisted into a messy braid and held in place by a tattered strip of yellow cloth. The braid as well as the intricate, twisting brand at the nape of her neck proclaimed that she belonged to the leader of the gypsies outside, but she was hardly seen moving among their camp. Instead, she occupied the streets and carriages and beds within the walls of whatever city they passed through. Sometimes she sang, sometimes danced, and other times, she coiled leg and wing about men glad to exchange what they had for a reprieve from their loneliness or boredom. It was such a man that she was currently draped over. Falling silent, she wriggled her shoulders and lifted herself up, pressing one shoulder against his chest. Her breath washed across his skin as she idly nuzzled the side of his throat while the argument raged around her. Pale eyes narrowed and focused on the figure sitting across from them, glaring. 
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Post by alokin1988 on Apr 1, 2015 6:25:46 GMT
He had never been late.
If their was one thing that Drok was, that was dependable. This time would be no different. He would make it on time and do his duty. Just as he always had.
"This seems like a good spot." Drok came to a stop on the road just before reaching the outskirts of the city. It was common practice for Drok to wear his cloak with the brown facing outward when he traveled. It allowed him to go unseen and get into less trouble, especially in the city where folk were always looking for trouble. This was different a day though. This time Drok wanted to be noticed on sight. Noticed by the man who had sent for him. A man who would recognize him by his green skin, mountainous form, white mask, and bright red cloak. "Why would a man need someone like me," he thought to himself. "From the looks of it this city must be full of rough individuals more then willing to get their hands dirty. It matters not. For now I should stick to making it to the castle.
Without hesitation Drok through the red cloak over his body and hurried on down the road. Within moments he made it to the district of the gypsies. The gypsies were an odd sort for the city folk, but for someone like Drok they seemed like family. Never one to settle down, Drok could empathize with their need to travel. For it is on the road where one meets life. Not cramped up in some small room all day surrounded by people who care not for you or the world around them.
Before Drok could continue to ponder about the way city folk choose to live their lives, his thoughts were interrupted by the arguing coming from a carriage. Surrounded by guards and dark in color, the inner hostility of the carriage could be heard from any near by it. "Looks like I have arrived at my destination," he sighed as he neared the carriage. Despite how loud the carriages inhabits were Drok found himself unable to make out the conflict that spewed forth from the carriage. "Time to move on," he thought as he quickly hurried around it and into the city.
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Post by ceolsige on Apr 2, 2015 2:54:08 GMT
============== All ==============
On the same morning the king signed his sovereignty over to a distant cousin, he passed away quietly and with relatively peaceful bearing. The announcement was begun with trumpeting from the castle walls, though the festival still roiled merrily below. Denizens of Coresa –particularly the old and politically involved, arrived to see the king's steward stand before a podium looking somehow both solemn and distraught. On his right stood the queen, Ayleth, and on his left, the advisor, Arnaud. The latter eyed the former sideways, corner of his mouth slowly inching upward into a smirk. She didn't know –he was clever.
All moved by him in a dull blur. He waited, swaying where he stood, mind swimming in the juices of antiquated grapes, for the name of his champion.
“It is the wish of our late king,” the steward read, farther unfurling his scroll. Arnaud lifted his chin higher, clasping his hands before him. “...That his Queen, Ayleth, should reign in his place.”
“What?”
All eyes averted to the slack-jawed advisor, but none answered him. Arnaud's hands swung from each other, one lifting in protest. “No, I am afraid that's not accurate. No, his majesty signed all over to his cousin just this morning. He said Ayleth was not fit to --”
“His majesty's cousin is a liar and will be hanged in a few short hours,” Ayleth snapped, shooting an icy stare cold enough to root the drunken advisor in place. “His steward holds the will he signed moments before he died,” she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper: “...You thought you had me, little man.”
The steward watched them with patient irritation, slowly returning his stoic eyes to the crowd when neither said a word more.
“Ayleth will rule Coresa, as before, and come noon, and as her first command, there is to be a public hanging.”
============== Hohks ==============
Hours passed, and with them, rumor permeated the filthied streets as enticingly as the scent of sweet cakes baking. But rumor is louder than cake, and one method in which it traveled was from the mouths of babes. They –three or four of them, squalid and crazed from sugars and excitement, dipped into tents and stalls, shouting the news which so delighted them. Among their numerous stops was the tent which smelled thickly of incense and faraway places.
“A hanging! There's going to be a hanging!” The shrill voice gained brashness the closer drew the shouting boy, who dipped under the curtain while his companions visited Hohks' neighbors. “They're going to have a hanging,” the boy panted, starting to reach out and grasp the nearest sturdy structure while he caught his breath. “In the …in the...” His eyes had lofted, higher and higher, toward the dim facade of the creature. During the festival the boy had stumbled upon elves and dwarves –even the occasional monstrous orc, but even in the midst of all these travelers, this was the first of the beast folk he'd seen. He quieted down and backed toward the same opening through which he had entered, turning suddenly to flee back out into the sunlight unless stopped. The voices of his friends could be heard still, shouting: “There's going to be a hanging in the square!”
============== Audie ==============
Fazande had passed the carriage now, and found himself in the labyrinthine windings of Coresa. His hands fidgeted slowly with a strand of wooden beads draped from his neck, dirty nails pushing one upon which a strange symbol was burned up and down against its neighbors. His gaze searched the streets and presently fell upon a fellow stranger, though no one who looked on Audie would have been able to rightly discern he didn't belong to this place. Especially not now, when he had direction. It was that air of confidence which summoned the attention of the skinwalker.
“Pahdon me,” the man simpered through a thick accent. “Dey said dere were goin' ta be a hangin' in da square. Where might dat be?” He lifted his chin, green eyes lowered to the young thief. “I tink I would like ta watch.”
============== Aisling ==============
The singing rather put a damper on the argument, and Aisling's companion reached out to toy with a piece of her hair while she turned a glower on the man seated just across from them. His hands were bound and between his knees, his short hair lightened from dust and matted with scabs and blood. He curled his lip at her in return, revealing a gleam of starkly pale teeth against the canvas of a dirt-smeared face. Light eyes were equally striking against the filth he wore on his skin, though he'd taken a bath just two nights ago. He smelled like the sweat of horses, now, and like straw and dust from the road.
When Aisling had fallen silent, the man over whom she'd draped herself nodded at Smith and continued: “I've fetched you for Arnaud. He advises the king. He advised him to seek you out, and here you are. How can you be so petulant? I drag you from ruins and this is how you repay me?” He indicated his swelling black eye with a violent jab of his thumb. “Like it or not, you're going to be the king of this place once the codger's dead. Luckily Arnaud's in charge of thanking me.” The man grumbled the end of his sentence, averting his eyes briefly to the window. Beside the carriage, children were running and clapping madly for his attention.
“There's going to be a hanging! In the square! ...And the king's died!”
The man endeavored to exchange a glance with Aisling before turning a sneer toward Smith. “I hope they've saved some time for your announcement, your majesty.” His words were punctuated by angry voices outside the carriage, which lurched suddenly to a stop. Out the window, several weapons glistened in the sunlight.
============== Drok ==============
Coresa's guards shoved through the crowd, though they did avert their path around one prominent, mountainous figure who perhaps four or more of them would have found impossible to push aside. Their shouts and commands for festival-goers to remove themselves from their path drowned out all other noise, and people slowly began to pipe down as the men closed in around the carriage and surrounded it. Pikes and swords were drawn with a brief metallic uproar, and one helmeted man stood at the forefront to address the driver:
“You carry traitors! Liars! They are under orders by Queen Ayleth to be hanged at the square.”
The driver quickly and wordlessly clambered from his seat, squeezing through the barricade to place himself within the safety of the crowd. His compliance drew Aisling's companion's head from the window of the carriage. “...Queen Ayleth? I've had orders from the palace to bring Coresa's new king. What is the meaning of this?”
“The whole lot of you is hanging for treason,” the guard barked, approaching the carriage door. “Now, out with you!”
The man's panicked eyes searched the crowd and found one head standing higher than all the others. He called to the orc, Drok: “I find myself in need of a mercenary! Of protection! I will pay with his majesty's riches! For the love of all that glistens and shines, help us!” |
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Post by alokin1988 on Apr 4, 2015 5:46:58 GMT
Drok found himself coming to a stop. "Yep, definitely made it to the city, he sighed." Slowly he turned himself to face the carriage.
Giving it a glance over Drok could easily identify the many guards that surrounded the carriage; however, he could not identify the man who called out for him.
"I should keep going, this will only get in the way of my mission," he thought to himself. Still, something about this situation had him weighing his options. If he were to approach the carriage and help the man, his mission would be lost. He had no idea who this man was nor if he could even deliver on his promised payment. The Majesty's treasure doesn't often fall out the windows of carriages last time Drok checked. Yet somehow Drok found himself walking to the carriage.
The guards quickly turned their attention to the giant Orc lining up in a loose formation and pointing their pikes fiercely at him. Unfazed by their feeble attempt to scare him Drok continued his march to the carriage. Like so many before them the guards failed to realize just how massive the Orc was at a distant. A problem quickly solved by Droks march to the carriage. Reaching the tips of their spears the guards quickly found themselves staring at the chest of a creature that could crush their skulls with his hands. One by one fear took over and the guards parted to let the Orc pass.
Smiling at the cowardice of the guards Drok strode up beside the guard captain and stared his cat caller face to Orc. "Who in the blue hell are you?"
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Post by schwarzschild on Apr 4, 2015 7:24:23 GMT
Hohks
Perhaps the neighboring rows of piping loaves and buns had finally vanquished the beckoning of bubbling teas and wafting opiates; the creature had lain dormant for a time, uninterrupted and to his greedy coin pouch’s increasing dismay. As the sun’s position shifted, the effects of his pipe began to wear, and he began his emergence to reality, his ascension beginning with the swiveling of two adorned ears situated beneath his crown of upturned black horns. They worked to filter out the festival crowd’s sudden commotion, distant trumpets, thunderous footfalls. Craning his neck forward, he focused upon the boldest and closest of the voices: the chiming of the children and their incessant, haunting message.
Having missed the steward’s announcement, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he shed the lingering effects of opium with an even shake of the head, attributing them to the pieces of information he may have missed. The abrupt entrance of the young professor prompted his posture to straighten, and though he sat, he towered as a black silhouette, somewhat delighted in his vistor’s alarm at his figure. His eyes followed the hand of the boy as it fell to rest upon a beloved antiquated chest, enduring the stammering with a curled lip at the boy’s inability to finish. Nevertheless, he was patient, and the boy’s comrades just outside his settlement relayed the only message of importance to the beast, and he echoed them. “A... hanging,” his voice low, rumbling.
Intrigued, he rose to stand seven feet, hunching only to accommodate a ceiling shorter than he, and with narrowed eyes, a great hand pushed open the flap of his tent. Into the day he stepped, likening the ebb and flow of the crowds to the tides surrounding Coresa, and as he peered over the bobbing heads, he noticed a concentration of people of some distance from him, among them a looming orc. He started in the direction of the gathering, figuring information about the hanging might be present there, but on his way, he heard his internal questions vocalized in a peculiar accent from a man to a fair-headed boy in a coat. The confidence exuding from the thief slowed his steps, and in an effort to remain undetected, he lingered there, pausing to mockingly admire the wares of a shirtless, leathery and frail man selling fruit from a sack strewn over his bony shoulder. Camouflaged to the best of his ability, he awaited the boy’s answer to the man’s question, trading a few coins for a plump apple.
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Post by Caleb on Apr 7, 2015 21:34:23 GMT
Audie valiantly made his way through the differing tents to peruse the shops gifts: a classic piece of art painted onto high end parchment, a sold gold bangle, a string of pearls, the list went on and on. And somehow each one of these high class items miraculously ended up in the varying pockets of Audie's over sized brown coat, without a notice from each shop owner. It was filling up nicely and as his pockets were mounting, so was his confidence. He was browsing many silver and bronze lapels on display, presented by a hulking green skinned dealer when he heard the trumpets alarm throughout the kingdom. This perked his attention out into the crowd and to see it was coming from the center castle he so admired. Many scouts ran passed the sandy haired boy, pushing past him with anticipation and this made his young heart pound with adrenaline as he joined in the scurry down the path to see what the commotion was all about. He had heard the festival goers gossiping to each other, exclaiming "A hanging! A hanging," and he thought to himself, what an interesting turn this day had made. "This way, this way, we got to get there now to get a good view, come on," he had heard from the rambunctious younger boys running through the street.
As he was traversing the streets, following the excited youngsters, he was approached by a stranger asking him about the location of the town square to witness the brouhaha that had clambered from the announcement of the public hanging. "We seem to have the same thought in mind," he responded with a genuine smile that looked Fizande up and down, taking in his grungy but appealing appearance. Audie thought this man to not be worth much, seeing the dirt that covered parts of his body, but then gleamed upon the wooden trinkets falling haphazardly upon the mans neck where it was wrapped. He wondered the worth of these inscribed necklaces but then left that thought alone, he did after all have solid gold and pearls in his pocket, no use for wooden hand-me-downs. "It's down this way to the east, not far," Audie could bullshit with the best of them and even though he had no idea the layout of the kingdom, he wasn't going to let that be known to the stranger. 'Blend in,' he thought, blending in was almost instilled in him since birth. "You can follow me there," he simply pointed in the direction the others were headed.
As he turned, he saw the Minotaur from earlier. He grew a tad wide-eyed and wondered if he had gotten caught. After all, some of the creatures rare and expensive herbs were resting nicely in the boys lower pocket. The horned-shopowner seemed not to pay much attention to the boy so he figured himself safe. It was a rare occurrence that he ever got caught, after all. And then Audie started down towards the square, where he spoke up to the rich-dark skinned Fizande, "if we get there now, we can get a good view." He winked, energy high, blood pulsing.
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Post by Aisling on Apr 13, 2015 16:37:28 GMT
Aisling leaned her head toward the man as he toyed with her hair and glanced up through the veil of her thick lashes to meet his gaze. She had been worried that the struggle and arguments would make it difficult for her to please him, but things seemed to be calming down now. Despite the bruised eye, he seemed in better spirits- until the carriage stopped. She was unconcerned at first, but the color drained from her face at the words of the guards outside. Hanged?! Her attention snapped from the window to the man, her lips falling partially open. There was no amount of money worth her life.
She scrambled off him in a tangle of legs and wings and pressed herself against the door, curling her fingers over the edge of the window. “I had nothing to do with this! I am no traitor!” How could she possibly be a traitor to a land she wasn’t even part of? “I belong to Emilian, the voivode, the leader of the gypsies just there.” She winced at the sound of the words. There had been a time when she had belonged to no one but herself and the sky and the forest’s dark lakes, but that was a long time ago. “Emilian’s going to be furious if you harm me!”
Leaning her weight against the door, she pushed head and shoulders outside the carriage, ready to continue to plead her case. The sight of the orc silenced her, however, and she shrank back, ducking her head. But there was one small ray of hope, wasn’t there? If things got very dire, perhaps she could appeal to the orc- after all, they had the same desires as all men, and as distasteful as that sort of things would be, it was preferable to dying. She would only need to gather her true skin from the gypsies and she could leave with him. Orsc were generally stupid, weren’t they? He might not know to keep her skin away from her, to clip her wings- perhaps she would finally be free again.
She straightened, tugged a little at her meager bodice, and leaned back out, pressing herself together between her arms. “Mighty one,” she reached a delicate hand toward the orc and fluttered her lashes. “Don’t let them kill me. I’ll give you things far, far more desirable than simple gold. Only take me with you?”
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Post by ceolsige on Apr 15, 2015 1:14:31 GMT
============== All ============== The unexpected hanging, poised to occur on the very same day as the king's passing and during the yearly festival, garnered a larger audience than the run of the mill execution. And yet, with a full crowd festering in the heat and squirming like a hive of fetid things, there was no sign of the man who was to be hanged. People raised onto their toes and shielded their eyes and squinted, but all that could be discerned on the wooden platform ahead was an awkward man sweating in black attire and a rope swinging on a breeze impossible to benefit from down in the crowd. The scorned advisor stood in the background, eyes wild like a trapped animal's. Apart from the unperturbing whiff of guilt about bringing an innocent man to his doom, he suffered to think his careful planning, his drunken nights spent searching, his time convincing the king to do his bidding, had all been for naught. He had failed to further his own agendas, and, tragically, had done nothing more than his title denoted; he had advised the king. ============== Hohks and Audie ============== No, Fazande was not worth much. His crudely carved beads and odds and ends of fabrics –not unlike those which hid the indignity of the gypsies yet coated with a layer of dust and lacking their former saturation of color –were worth nothing. Even the rings on his fingers must have contained very little in the way of precious metal; a fleck of gold here, a divet in silver coating there. They were little more than smoothed wood, iron and bronze. He was a stranger in a strange land, but not the sort of man who deserved a second glance. Even he blended in. “Dere weren't not'ing like dis where I come from,” he told Audie, encouraged by the swindler's seemingly kind smile. He was right to be; the young man proved to be more friendly than anyone he'd met so far, though much of that likely had to do with the already noticed lack of wealth visible on his ruddy person. “Not far, eh? I t'ink I will, den.” Audie turned as if to lead him away, but Fazande picked up on the direction of his stare and likewise rolled his green eyes in the direction of the towering, devilish silhouette framed stark against the sun peaking against a cloudless sky. Audie spoke afterward as though unfazed, but the skinwalker's brows furrowed for a fleeting moment. Before they could rush away into the crowd together, he opted to test whether his new acquaintance's fear was validated. Surely anyone who looked on Hohks would be frozen –at least for a beat, by trepidation. Fazande certainly was, but he was made of thicker stuff than human meat and soul. “Ah, I'm shuh da view is already good up dere, eh, Wildling?” He spoke across a small and fleeting clearing of the crowd to the minotaur, hoping he wouldn't lose his guide, Audie, in the process. “Can you see da gallows from dere?” ============== Drok and Aisling ============== A pike waved in the direction of Aisling as she clambered against the window to be heard. “Quiet, you gypsy's whore,” one of the guards spat at her. His rudeness was undetected by his superiors, lost in the chaos of the moment. Drok's summoner laughed nervously –high pitched, sweaty palms sliding up and down against one another as his hopeful hero approached. “A boon to you, if you're looking to be a very wealthy man,” he crooned, barely audible over the commands of the guards. They had become dulled, if only slightly, by the approaching orc. The man's persuasion was cut off, however, but the impudence of Aisling. Her voice –so much more alluring and sweet than his, called out to the same orc he hoped would champion him. The man shot a glare at her sideways, but said nothing. If his promises of money weren't enough, perhaps the promise of sweet, sweet poon would work its magic on the green skinned man. Licking his sweaty lips, the man grazed Aisling's swelled and pushed cleavage with a sidelong glance before returning his stare to Drok. “Ahah, well, it looks like we could make you a happy man.” His phrase was cut off by the guard captain, who stepped suddenly between Drok and the carriage. “I'm warning you, orc,” the man spat. He'd been hesitant to interfere at first, but now there was no semblance of cowardice in his posture. “If you interfere, you will hang with them.” In the midst of the chaos, the man with the black eye shifted his jaw and squinted. Had this all been a trick concocted by an evil man? But why would that Arnaud have wanted him to die? The thought of having become a pawn infuriated him more than his stupidly halcyon expression could betray. |
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Post by schwarzschild on Apr 20, 2015 0:15:16 GMT
Hohks
The apple was tart and tasted as verdured as it appeared, and though the bull seemed engrossed within the first meal he had consumed since daybreak, his tell-tale ears swiveled to weed through the myriad of voices and collect the conversation he secretly speculated. Vast, sloe-colored eyes quietly followed the boy’s mention of the east, and above the crowd’s throbbing current, betwixt wooden poles, flags, and homely structures, he could make out the ominously silhouetted gallows in exactly that direction.
Initially, he thought the boy clever and well-acquainted with the convoluted kingdom of Coresa, and he favored his amiable response to the skin-walker’s question. A kind word was scarcely found within the cutthroat shadow of the king’s quarters, and the creature was accustomed to being ostracized and feared due to merely his appearance when he occasionally visited the town centre. However, the festival was a time to move with peculiars and ogle, and as he stood, a towering barrel of black fur amid those of a lesser stature and mostly human, he could feel their eyes upon him. Though when the thief’s gaze met him, it was different than those, and he noticed. The young one was a peculiarity himself; everyone appeared to seek refuge from the beating sun, and he wore a thick overcoat. Furthermore, the boy smelled familiar, so much that he planned to make his acquaintance and follow him.
Fazande’s question was convenient, and he used it for his internal motives. With a few strides, he brought himself closer to the pair, more particularly the boy, the final bite of his apple leaving sour juice to shine on his ebon lips and across the golden hoop that hung from his nostrils. As he dropped the core to the red ground, he calmly and lowly replied, ’T’is there,” a nod indicating the direction, feigning ignorance to mask his eavesdropping. “But the crowd is moves this way,” and he extended a hoofed digit to the commotion that took him earlier, the orc still present in the distance. “Let me guide you both.”
Standing with the pair, his senses were at work, and if the thief remained close, he leaned forth to loom over him, breathing in the familiar scent. After a moment, he recognized the scent to be his own wares stashed away on the boy’s person, mouthing the name of the leaves in silence. He addressed him quietly, despite rapidly growing cross. “Boy…”
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Post by Caleb on Apr 22, 2015 19:15:42 GMT
"You can see the gallows from over th--," the sandy-haired boy responded to the rugged Fizande, before cutting off short when his gaze landed upon the gargantuan hairy beast looking over in the pairs direction. The boy's silver-blue eyes never left the Minotaur as he approached with his swagger and this caused Audie's thin lips to curl up on the corners into a grin he shown at the Minotaur. This should be fun, he thought to himself. The approaching shop-owner came and offered his help to guiding the pair. Audie had gathered twice the amount of attention with these two characters, than he had wanted. But he thought these two would make for more useful friends than enemies, so he stifled his first initial thought to flee fast. He stood his ground and the Minotaur was upon him, as he stood almost eye level to the beasts torso. Audie sniffed the air, that was filling with the scents of different opiates, strong enough to almost send him into a trance right then and there. The scent was wafting from the Minotaur's thick, matted, darkened fur as he was just looming over Audie. The smell of the hallucinogenic's got Audie thinking. The Minotaur seemed to be growing a bit agitated and then muttered a word to while towering over him, casting Audie in the strangle of a shadow. It was suddenly colder in the shadow of the Minotaur and the boy thought it best to intervene. "Audicus Harapney, is the name," as he stretcehed his smile out from ear to ear and extended his right arm in a gesture to shake hands with the new acquaintance. "But you can call me Audie." Audie prided himself on having never met a stranger before, and always thought of mutual benefits people could offer each other. He then gestured back behind him to the dirty Fizande waiting for direction and said, "This is my friend, erm, well..." He chuckled a bit then looked back at the Minotaur, "don't know his name exactly, but you get ten points if you can decipher anything he says," Audie joked. "I'd like a front row seat for the hanging, I don't get excitement like this very often." He then looked the beast up and down taking in his mighty stature then asked, "How strong are your shoulders? Must be a great view up there," Audie plucked up his eyebrows quickly as an almost flirtation to get a better view.
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Post by alokin1988 on Apr 23, 2015 5:08:16 GMT
"Relax captain, I have made no attempt to keep you from your duty, yet," snapped an irate Drok. "I just have a few questions for the pair in the carriage."
This only seemed to anger the captain. His grip tightening around his weapon. It mattered not though, Drok was more than capable of taking care of the captain and his guards despite their many weapons. And if it got to rough, a swift exit plan was always ready. The guards were covered head to toe in heavy armor. Weapons and shields attached to their hands. For them trying to catch an orc with only a cape and a small bag of supplies would be difficult. Breaking through their defenses could pose a challenge but considering the sweat pouring from their brows and the smell of fear in the air. One quick roar and a swift charge should break their defense momentarily. Then it was just a matter of using the thick crowd to lose the guards.
Drok stepped closer to the carriage window positioning himself between the captain and his solicitors. Looking down at the pair Drok focused his gaze on the man offering gold. "Now I'll ask again, who in the blue hell are you and who's gold are you offering?" Without waiting for a response Drok turned his attention to the prettier of the two and his eyes to her assets. "Nice tits madam, but why should I risk my neck for them when a brothel can offer me a bigger and safer pair?"
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Post by Aisling on May 2, 2015 6:25:01 GMT
“Because they would be yours,” She said, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes as she spoke. The comment about the size of her chest was left without reply. “Why waste your coin on them when you can crush a few ants beneath your boots and have someone at your beck and call?” A gesture was given toward the guards and their spears as they spoke. Wriggling passed the man that she had been draped over moments before, she took one step down from the carriage and unfurled her dark wings, dipping herself into a half bow.
“Your race is proud and mighty- you could take me. It would be nothing for one such as you.” Lifting a small hand, she reached to touch his muscular arm. He might harm her, but a quick death by the orc was preferable to a hanging before the whole of the kingdom.
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Post by ceolsige on May 2, 2015 23:05:21 GMT
Hohks and Audie
If Fazande had intended to lend Hohks a convenient means by which to confront the thief, it was not apparent. He stood by serenely, looking pleased not unpleasant, as the towering minotaur appeared to contemplate prior to giving his answer. “Much appreciated,” he began, barely getting the words out before he heard Audie's voice. His brows almost knitted at the comment, which suggested his dialect was a difficult one to make out. That subtle twitch of annoyance gave way to a flash of shockingly white teeth. “Fazande,” he said through his broad, somewhat forced grin. “De name es Fahzondee.” His introduction would be easily overlooked, given the set Audie revealed himself to possess. A curious green glance was bestowed on the young thief before said eyes rolled upward slowly toward the face of the bull. Was this the taste of his newest acquaintance? And more importantly, Audie's safety considered, was he to the taste of Hohks? Drok and Aisling The captain of the guard's luscious brows came down over his eyes in apparent annoyance when the orc further delayed the arrest. When an impatient pike wavered by his head, however, he looked back and told his men to hold back. They did not want to tangle with the green giant if they didn't have to; but if it came down to it, they would. “The king's advisor is a man named Arnaud,” the sweaty man said to the orc, hands tremulous. “My cousin, my friend. He sent me to fetch this man –the king's closest heir, to bring him here.” He turned his eyes on the guards, seeing that they heard. “He promised me good pay to get this wretched blacksmith –pay I'll gladly hand over to you if you'd kindly save my ass.” The latter was hissed toward Drok between clenched teeth, which stayed pinned together when Aisling broke in to plead her case with the orc as well. Behind them, the man in handcuffs rolled his shoulder and strained briefly in his irons. Pitching his back into the seat of the carriage, he shifted on his ass toward the side door window and peered out. All he saw was a parting crowd, all of which wished to marvel at the promiscuous woman and the wild green stranger. Without much rumination on his part, the man suddenly leaned back and lashed out with his leg, crashing a sizable foot into the door. Its heavy wooden structure failed to splinter, but the iron latch jostled audibly. He kicked –twice more, and the latch dropped heavily onto the dusty ground below. The door swung open, and, while those in the crowd able to see the man began to shriek and point and cheer, he leapt out onto unsteady legs and endeavored to shoulder his way through. The man was deceptively large once pitted against the commoners –a head above most and two hundred thirty pounds if he was an ounce. |
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Post by schwarzschild on May 6, 2015 23:59:08 GMT
Hohks
The creature was unmoving and wholly unamused, staring down at the twosome as the thief made his mirthful introduction within his twin-peaked shadow. The boy’s enthusiasm was ill-suited to his own current sentiment, and though his inky gaze grew thin with ire, he entertained the greeting with a cordial echo. “Harapney.” The boy’s guilty hand, however, was left suspended before him, an uncommon dismissal for the bull. He had grown to attribute new faces with full parcels of coins, but this acquaintance had secretly taken from him, thus presenting him with no gain or loss.
The young one’s gesture was followed to the skin-walker, and he was measurably more kind forthwith. “A pleasure, Fazande,” he continued coolly, his greeting accentuated with a bow of his head. “I am Hohks, an herbalist. I’ve not encountered such an accent here in Coresa.” The beast was rehearsed in rapport, but his intrigue was genuine, perhaps emphasized by the lingering effects of the opiates just prior. As his unshorn lips divided to ask the man of his origins, Audie spoke again. The beast regarded the interruption as the shopkeepers in the city’s centre often regarded beggars at their storefronts: a harmless nuisance, though his exasperation only evident by a sharp exhale.
An interruption could escape the bull’s pique, but the flirtatious question that followed would be hard-pressed. With a voice no longer considered amiable, he answered the crook. “How strong are my shoulders?” For the first time, he actively sought eye contact, reminded of Audie’s swindling as a hot breeze wafted the familiar scent of dried leaves.” My shoulders are quite strong. I carry basins of water larger than you each day to water my herbs and gardens, and all for naught because of swindlers— like you, Harapney. I can smell them on you.”
He straightened, and then he turned toward the direction of the commotion surrounding the green beast. “Come now.” He raised his voiced to accommodate the sudden screaming and pointing, an ear swiveling in the direction of the escaping man. “Hear that?” Whether the pair obliged his offer or not, he began to plod through toward the cluster of festival goers in the approaching distance, patrons parting and whispering about his crown of horns as he passed or perhaps of the wake of the man unknowingly drawing closer to him. “Besides, Harapney, they’re of no use to me or you now. Ruined.”
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Post by Caleb on May 10, 2015 2:25:55 GMT
"Basins of water, wow, that's...a skill," Audie retorted, with a smirk and a hushed giggle. Audie was used to attitude from all, he was accustomed to being the cause of many sour words and tones but his young mind always likes to press his luck further. He knew he was caught in his thievery and the Minotaur's remarks confirmed that for him when he was informed that he could smell them.
"I'm shocked your nose can still get a whiff of anything other than those drugs. It's practically a cloud around you," Audie remarked, trying to keep the air lighthearted, and keeping himself from getting smashed into tiny pieces. A calamity arose from the distance and Audie's attention had been stolen away in that direction. The Minotaur halted the conversation and the young thief watched as he hustled away to check out the noise and a...Orc? Audie thoughts were puzzled, 'A giant green Orc, what is he doing here, in this town of all places?'
As Hohks went to satiate his curiosity down by the Orc, the jab of the ruined herbs comment laid upon Audie's ears. "Ruined?" Audie feigned shock and sadness. "Are you saying my recipes will be terrible now? My years as a renowned chef cannot bring these rare herbs back from death?" Sarcasm dripped from his words. Most people, when confronted with a an opponent more than double the size, would cower or stand down. Audie used it as fuel for a strong wit and tongue, no matter how stupid the words were.
He called after Hohks, still pressing his luck. "Hey, where you headed off to? We were just getting acquainted! We were going to exchange recipes! I want a good view! Should I hop on your basin-wielding shoulders?...No?" Audie kept on, amusing himself and turning a quick smirk to the thick-accented Fizande.
"Okay, FAHZANDEE, what ya waiting on? Keep up!" He mimicked the skinwalker's name playfully, without harshness. And Audie leapt away to keep up with the towering Minotaur. He ran with a child-like giddy, his blue-gray eyes filled with wonder for the new town he had been exploring-- for the new town he had been stealing from. As they approached a stopped carriage, Audie noticed the men surrounding the Orc. "My money's on the Orc," Audie mentioned in the direction of Hohks, weather the Minotaur was listening or not Audie still spoke. "I mean...If I were a betting man....And I am..."
Just as he finished his sentence, which he personally thought humorous and was placing a gentle smile upon his own lips, he briefly spotted a lady... 'A most beautiful lady' Audie started to think, with mouth gaping open. He leaned in now, ears perked like a satellite on the commotion happening in front of him.
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Post by alokin1988 on May 18, 2015 3:16:55 GMT
"I will help you retrieve your man and get you to safety, in return you pay me what I'm owed and I'll be expecting to see those tits first thing! Do not betray me!"
Without hesitation Drok charged the captain. His brown cloak whipped around and slapped the air. "Charging bull," roared Drok! He held his arms in front of his body folded over one another. Covered in various forms of protection his arms provided his a way to block incoming attacks from various kinds of weaponry. Drok knew what he need to do, grab the captain and throw him at his men. Giving Drok and the others enough time to chase after their runaway. "I'm running wild on you," screamed the furious Orc! Quickly Drok rolled under the captains spear with a speed not seen in an orc his size. Coming up from his roll, Drok used his momentum to separate the remaining distance from himself and the captain launching to grab hold of his target.
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Post by Aisling on May 25, 2015 16:29:46 GMT
Her smile grew wide and the beads in her hair clinked together softly as she nodded. “Of course. I am all yours, my good sir.” She called, cupping a ringed hand to her lips.
It was with no small amount of admiration that she watched him charge ahead. Bare feet carried her down from carraige. For a moment, she thought of escape. Bright eyes shifted toward the road that stretched out behind them like a dusty ribbon. With the orc distracting the guards, it wouldn't be terribly difficult to slip away. She doubted that the men would pay much mind to a gypsy girl- she was no traitor, no threat to the kingdom or its leaders. What would she do once she got away ? She had to get her skin back and there was no way to do that on her own. She needed the orc. So she stayed, hovering by the side of the carriage.
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Post by ceolsige on May 30, 2015 23:34:00 GMT
Fazande picked up on Audie's introduction and ruminated on his last name for the duration of their short talk. Its sound cemented his belief he'd come upon a local.
Whether or not Hohk's intrigue came from a place of genuine interest or from a haze of opium smoke, Fazande was happy to engage, albeit with his traditional few words. His head bowed in return. “Ah, dat's because I come from a land dat's fah from 'ere,” he obliged with a grin, eyes feline in their shiftiness turning back toward the thief in time to observe the accusation. He'd never heard of a minotaur herbalist; in all he'd heard of these creatures they were fearsome warmongers. There was a tale back home of one in particular who cleaved asunder a hundred men in a single battle and who wore their skulls around his belt. He was a particular hero among those whose skins were of a bovine or equestrian sort, and not so much among the more carnivorous among them.
The recollection was shattered by the turn in amiable Hohk's voice. A dark brow lofted higher on the man's forehead while his eyes switched between the two of them in turn as each spoke. His slight grin occasionally fell but never for long. It was clear their confrontation amused him.
The two started ahead and he followed, easily putting both hands behind his back with his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist. His chin lofted when Audie turned back and regarded him, speaking to him now with the same sarcastic, grating behavior as he had been with the bull. He didn't entirely mind it, though it did chalk up to some harsh judgements he never articulated.
The sight ahead became clear to him later than it likely did the minotaur or the thief who ran ahead of them both, but it was not long before he saw the green-skinned head above the crowd. It occurred to him he could have engaged Audie in a gamble, but alas –he'd be sure to win it. Those men ahead were scrambling to escape the orc, who declared himself to be a bull. Eyes averted nervously toward Hohks to see if he took any offense, but were swiftly again upon the scene.
The cousin of Arnaud sprang behind the gypsy when given the chance, grasping at her shoulders and holding her ahead of him so long as there was no immediate retaliation. Wielding the smaller female as a meat shield caused one encroaching guard to briefly fall back, but it was not long before he weighed her worth against the king's order and held his pike ahead again. He could skewer them both, likely without any repercussions.
“Wait, wait!” The guard captain stepped backward while the orc was charging through his meager ranks. “That man will pay you what the advisor can offer, but I am under orders from the queen! I can pay a hundred times w-urgh!” His voice was choked off by the grip of the orc.
While the place occupied by the minotaur, the stranger and the thief previously seemed safe enough, a sizable (relative only to the other humans in the area) soon threatened their nonchalance. The crowds were thick on either side of them, slightly repelled by fear of the beast-kin and made dense on either side of the trio. Smith, with his hands tied, barreled for the thinned space. “Out of the way!” He appeared incapacitated by his animal panic, which translated more into a wild rage. Unless either made to stop or trip him, he'd shoulder between Hohks and Audie and plow halfway into Fazande on his way to freedom.
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Post by schwarzschild on Jun 5, 2015 5:54:51 GMT
Hohks
The sarcastic questions and prying comments from Audie were like dull arrows ricocheting off the withers of the trudging bull; his perpetually alert ears heard them, but their effect on him was mild, if present at all. His only noticeable reaction was a snort and a bantam head-toss at the continuous and ludicrous notion that he would allow such an immoral being to mount his honest shoulders. The thief may have spoken in jest, but he had not diverted from the pilfering the boy had committed against him. Thus, he was not amused, and as the scene before him unfolded, he was also consciously elsewhere.
As he moved, he noticed the crowd’s light-hearted curiosity shifted to one of ardor and panic the closer he advanced toward the central point. Bodies were pulling and climbing one another, either to evade a stray fist from an incensed onlooker blocked from the view or to flee from the outrage of the green beast that, though far from them, lurched outward from the nucleus of ruckus and weaponry with his recitations. The bull’s pace slowed with caution, and the scene became more comprehensible and grave to him. Faces began to avert from the orc’s presence to his own, and with them, tiny hands and fingers pointed and waved at him. The faces brought whispers, and among them, he heard comments falsifying some nonexistent anger or that his black countenance held a menacing air. He spread a broad and hoofed hand behind him, signifying his new companions to cease movement, if they were even still behind him. “Wait,” he quietly breathed. It was easy to forget his inability to blend, and he slightly bowed his head in an attempt to dilute the crowd’s judgments.
Uneasiness scaled the swell of his chest, and his sooty eyes side glanced each flank of the narrow path as his ears collected a chorus of voices. Some of the festival goers began to address him directly, and his uneasiness conjured defensiveness. He felt vulnerable with his belongings stowed away in a tent in the town’s centre, and yet he was careful to keep evidence of his sentiment undisclosed. As peculiar as the situation were the thoughts that swam in his head: a piping clay mug filled with tea, a substance he had become somewhat reliant upon, and he decided he needed it. He scolded his own curiosity and for leading two strangers with it.
As quickly as his decision came to abort, rapid footsteps rushing towards brought whoops and cheers from the crowds. He found the crowd to be his enemy, and based solely upon the context of where he stood, a large man sprinting toward him must be as well. Without his weapons, he endeavored to prove he was not defenseless in the least, and as the zealous man closed in on his vicinity, he braced and somewhat involuntarily attempted shove him back. If he managed to connect, the force could easily drop the escapee on his back, and to the ebon creature’s dismay, it would appear as an attack to onlookers.
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Post by Caleb on Jun 10, 2015 18:03:31 GMT
"Now we got some action," said an excitable Audie, with a gaping smile as he looked upon the raucous crowd. He halted at the whispered warning that came from the Minotaur ahead of him and mimicked the same hand motion as to let the trailing Fizande know what was happening. Then he heard it, the attention of the crowd seemed to be turning from the battle onto the towering bull before him. "Well, this is awkward," Audie nervously said, as this was beginning to be more attention than he bargained for when he set out on his day. What was peculiar to Audie, was the bull's reaction to the attention. He was uneasy. Uncomfortable even, and to Audie, almost...embarrassed?
The hollering then started to be directed toward Hohks and Audie then became defensive for the bull, shouting back at the festival goers, "HEY! WHAT'S EVERYBODY LOOKING AT? HAVEN'T YOU ALL SEEN A BIG ASS COW BEFORE? TAKE A FUCKIN' PICTURE, IT'LL LAST L---" and then Audie was cut off by a stranger, a burly man running towards them. Well, not so much towards them, but more away from something else.
Audie could tell that Hohks was not wanting to deal with this guy hurdling in their direction and so he acted fast. Audie's youthful bones and disciplined workout regime gave him a quickness that always benefited his criminal lifestyle, but he couldn't move that fast in the oversized khaki trench coat he was donning. "Ugh, fuck it," he whispered to himself and then shot the coat off his body and it landed with a thud onto the ground behind him, with all the trinkets, gold coins, bottles of oils, lockets, jewelry, and precious stones rattling when they crashed down, some spilling out onto the dirt laden ground, where the grass had become withered and grey-brown. Audie then leapt ahead of the Minotaur, and swiftly fell to his hands, which held his body weight up as he kicked out his left leg straight out to the side, to create a 'clothes-line' effect just in time to trip the running stranger. If Audie was successful, then the man would fall and wouldn't escape just so fast. Audie had no vested interest in "capturing" this escapee, he just didn't like the look of trouble coming his way. Instincts creep in.
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