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  1. #11
    Senior Member

    EXP: 7,350, Level: 3
    Level completed: 59%, EXP required for next Level: 1,650
    Level completed: 59%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,650


    The Huntsman's Avatar

    GP
    1,069

    Name
    Fil'ayn Kiljarden
    Age
    87
    Race
    Drow
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Alerar
    “Myself? Not hardly. I was a volunteer, but I did it to further the hunt. Now it seems we are at an impasse. I cannot tell you more, and you clearly despise the very sight of me. So with this, I think it best I leave.” This was not an ideal situation. I had no idea what forces she had lying in wait where. There had been movement at the end of the alley that then stopped. So I was stuck. Or at least, I was sure she thought so. But I was, as she had guessed, not exactly normal. So I bowed - and leapt. Not for her though, which is what she had clearly expected.

    No - I crashed into the wall of the inn, partway up. My muscles strained, and I leapt again, for the other side of the alley. A third bound, and my blade swung out, hooking into the edge of the roof, and I pulled myself up and over the edge. I landed with a roll, and came up into my feet. I clicked Saw-Spear back and tucked it away.

    “I hope next time we meet you are not so prejudiced, - oh come on.” She was taking a running start at the wall, and I knew exactly what was going to happen. Now this was unfair. So I turned, and took off, sprinting flat out across the rooftops. I didn't want to fight the woman - but I also saw how absolutely enraged she had been. There had been trembling under my feet - earth magic perhaps, getting ready to impale me? Whatever the case might be, I did not want to stay around to find out.

    It was a shame. I liked this village, and felt that I had been helping people here. But now with this rather prejudiced goat woman attacking me, I would not be able to stay around. I didn't know what she expected - this was Alerar. By and large, we didn't use magic. What did she expect? To have us just roll over and die when monsters decided to come for us? No. I was not as noble as some of the others who had volunteered for the project, but at the same time - I knew why I had done it. And I would never back down from that belief. The hunt must go on, with all tools available.

    The faun easily made contact with the files of the roof, sending a couple skittering as her hard hooves smacked after a fine leap. I caught sight of dark eyes and a flash of a white blade but little else. Crashes of hooves began to be heard behind me as she followed at a pace that seemed to be closing rapidly.

    “Stop!” came the yell.

    “Good lady, you intend to injure me, and I do not wish to fight, so, I think, not!” I called back over my shoulder as I pressed on, trying to escape. Ahead there was a set of densely packed buildings, with chimneys and tall stacks on the rooftops. My legs tensed and I threw myself up, onto the next building. Before she caught up - and damnation my speed was in my reflexes, not in flat running - I shot for some of the chimneys, ducking behind them. Damn. Why did she hate me so? I did not recall ever hunting a faun so that couldn't be the reason. Was it just because of the experiment? Why did it matter to her that I altered my body - or let it be altered? I suppressed my snort of disgust. Prejudice like this interfered with hunts enough as it was - and now she was after me. I spared a moment to smile grimly beneath my mask. Now I was hunted.
    Cruel and brutal are the blades for the Beast
    It's time to Carve and Clatter and Cleave.

    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.

  2. #12
    Legend

    EXP: 127,650, Level: 15
    Level completed: 55%, EXP required for next Level: 7,350
    Level completed: 55%,
    EXP required for next Level: 7,350


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    14,025

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    Veridian, she murmured. Get up here and help me. We need to flank him. Delath, stay below for now. She felt the fox and the dragon respond to her instructions without question, her clearly their commander in this time.

    Breathing in she reached in and brought herself through the earring to Gosling. Still she watched the rooftops over the street where the abomination had gone, and where he had now disappeared into.

    Gosling?

    My lady! the secretary gasped, very briefly showing the sight from her eyes - a genuinely disgusting and sweaty man. Quickly, she hid it.

    Philomel curled her lip and prepared for the next leap. We will be severing contact now. I will come find you in the morning. She paused, her limbs tense. Oh and I think I left your notes in the street.

    With that, and hearing only a simple gasp before she leant back, Philomel ended the contact. Then she ran, fast and furious, coming to a leap at the end of the roof. She sailed over the street, and then continued on over the more closely packed roofs where she had seen the Huntsman go, sucking in her breath as she sent awareness into the tiles and the clay that they were once of, the soil and dust that lay between their cracks.

    Veridian?

    Here, he gently hissed, showing his form clambering up a crate, then a windowsill and then a rooftop. I come.

    As her awareness spread around her Philomel slowed to a pace, listening to the clink of the tiles beneath her. Her eyes swept left to right and her knowledge went vast, but it was clear that the man had gone to hide. She came to a place where chimneys began to peek from homes and a smile came to her face as she saw emptiness. For a while. Then -

    Ah yes. There it was. Forty feet to the north,north east. Behind a chimney stack itself. Twisting around in that direction she began the stalk towards her prey, now second blade singing as it was drawn, not silently, but obviously from her sheath. Veridian showed himself circling around to approach from the other side, claws digging into the slate he trod upon, and ready to release his own fiery fury at any time.

    There was a heavy sigh, and the sound of fabric rustling. Then the man stepped out from behind the chimney stack, facing the faun. In his right hand, held loosely, was his weapon, folded in half. He shook his head, the tricorn hat bobbing in the moonlight.

    “Why not just let me go? I have no quarrel with you.” It seemed he had taken the time that it took for her to find him to catch his breath and recover, as he wasn't breathing hard from the running and leaping.

    Philomel's brows genuinely rose at his statement. She saw the small figure of Veridian coming up opposite her, his jaws open and the beginnings of ember light emerging. Her two bright white bladed swords were held ready but she paused as he came freely.

    “Quarrel … well. You ran, first of all. Then, there is the matter of the fact we are hunting something, Mr Huntsman and that genuinely happens to be your kind.”
    *admin at your service*

    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.
    The Primordials: Professor Charles and Moros.

  3. #13
    Senior Member

    EXP: 7,350, Level: 3
    Level completed: 59%, EXP required for next Level: 1,650
    Level completed: 59%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,650


    The Huntsman's Avatar

    GP
    1,069

    Name
    Fil'ayn Kiljarden
    Age
    87
    Race
    Drow
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Alerar
    I tilted my head to the side, and sighed. Fantastic. I could not fault them on this. It was a steadily done hunt, well planned. The fault lay with myself, for not anticipating the danger of strangers. So. I was the prey, and now, foes on both sides. Self-admitted foes, with blades on one side, flame on the other. Not how I planned on my debut from training to go, but. I tilted my head down, blocking my sight of the faun for a moment.

    “Well then. It seems that we do have quarrel, after all. A shame, but it seems your current hunt, and my grand hunt, end here.” I sighed, and swept my coat out, crouching down. Two foes. Blades. Fire. Both unknown quantities. The woman, a faun, unknown capabilities that include earth magic of some kind. The fox, fire. Other unknown capabilities. My chances of survival were none. Very well. I bared my teeth in a hard, angry smile. Come then, hunters. Come, and I'll come for you.

    I sprang, twisting and leaping backwards. My target, the fox. Harass the smaller, ranged foe first. As I twisted through the air, my blade clicked out, snapping to its full extension, suddenly doubling its range as I swept it round to strike at the ground beside the fox. I had one - one chance at this. Stab the ground, surprise them, throw them off - and flee while they recovered.

    The fox let out a startled, spark-spewing bark of surprise. A gasp from behind spoke of the faun pausing, as her mind worked. Then she was coming, white swords flashing as the fox himself flew up into the air and skittered a few pawsteps back.

    I flipped forward, rolling to my feet. Damn. They were both till focused, the fox hadn't been thrown off by the fake out attack. And worse, my blade hadn't actually sunk into the rooftop deep enough for me to use it to propel myself away. I backed up to the edge of the roof, faun and fox now on the same side of me. I smiled humorously beneath my mask. I wasn't hunting them, so I couldn't bring myself to hurt them, despite the fact that they were so clearly hunting me. I sighed, and clicked the Saw-Spear back to its reserved form, and returned it to its holster as the duo approached me.

    “It seems that I simply do not have quarrel with you. You are not my prey, so I have no interest in hurting you.” I turned away and stared at the moon. It was full, and bright. A fitting sight, I suppose. It called to me, sang to me of promises and potential unfulfilled. I hoped my younger siblings didn't have the misfortune that I did. I closed my eyes. “Do make it quick, at least?” I braced myself, body tensing.
    Cruel and brutal are the blades for the Beast
    It's time to Carve and Clatter and Cleave.

    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.

  4. #14
    Legend

    EXP: 127,650, Level: 15
    Level completed: 55%, EXP required for next Level: 7,350
    Level completed: 55%,
    EXP required for next Level: 7,350


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    14,025

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    Her mouth dropped open. She had been raising her weapons, readying for a fight moving rapidly across the rooftops, scampering as he dashed away, taking Veridian's minor retreat as a poor excuse for a getaway. But now he - he.

    Why did she hate these abominations? It was purely based on what they had done to themselves. The way that they had misshaped and altered their bodies natural way with a power that rivalled the gods, but had not been gifted naturally. Yes, they might not have much magic in Alerar, but few fauns themselves had it. Yet they still continued on, fighting into the fray and beyond.

    Now this creature was honouring her. Seemingly he had given up all hope of survival and was … well. Baring his back to her as Veridian still guarded his front, jaws open in readiness, for anything. What was this being, all genetically modified but not cruel? He was clearly a man with some goodness in him but the wrong way of thinking in terms of power. She had come here to hunt and kill his kind, fueled by a kind of rage that was born from prejudice and now … now …

    Now she was faltering.

    What do you want to do? Veridian asked, bright eyes leaving their quarry for a moment to blink at her. The man had leaned forward, and was now resting his hands on the ledge. Looking up, not down. His body was lax, it didn't look like he had any intention of moving again.

    Philomel lowered her blades slowly, confliction running over her face. We came here to kill him ... she said.

    Veridian nodded, eyes turning back the man and tilting his head. But he has a good heart.

    It seems that way, Philomel murmured, blinking a few times. ... Damn it!

    Going too soft in your old age? the fox mused.

    “Oh shut up, you,” she muttered before coming forwards, and placing her main blade - Nameless - on the nape of the Hunter's neck.

    He let out a soft sigh and tilted his head forward. “Stab upwards for a swift end. Down, to prolong it.” His voice was soft and steady. His hands tightened on the stonework of the ledge. “Next time you meet someone like me, please, judge them more kindly.” Then he took a deep breath and went still. Waiting, tense.

    Philomel's heart beat loudly. Her jaw tightened, and she breathed heavily for a moment before she spat back. “I know how to do a clean death. Nearly twenty five years of killing has done that. Now stop being melodramatic. Hand over your weapon now, and kindly put your hands behind your back.”

    “Twenty five years… So young to be so hateful.” His voice was a soft murmur as he slipped one hand under his coat. The wickedly jagged blade was flung to the ground, well away from them both, then his gloved fingers laced together behind his back. “The same age as my younger sister. The other races do mature faster, I suppose.” He continued to face away from her, not moving.

    “I said twenty five years of killing, not life. Add another fifteen on top of that.”

    And she spoke with a thick tone as she moved her body behind him. Then suddenly removed her blade from his neck. Instead she seized his hands and began to wrap a length of fabric around them.

    “Get that would you?” She gestured to the weapon. Veridian paused, glanced at the thing and pattered over it to see how it could balance in his jaws.

    Philomel grunted and turned her attention back the Huntsman, tightly pulling on the fabric.
    *admin at your service*

    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.
    The Primordials: Professor Charles and Moros.

  5. #15
    Senior Member

    EXP: 7,350, Level: 3
    Level completed: 59%, EXP required for next Level: 1,650
    Level completed: 59%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,650


    The Huntsman's Avatar

    GP
    1,069

    Name
    Fil'ayn Kiljarden
    Age
    87
    Race
    Drow
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Alerar
    I blinked, staring at the moon as I felt my hands get bound. That - alright, what was happening here. The girl - and half my age, of course she was a girl - was supposed to have ended me. That's how Hunts went, unless you were hunting for information. And she clearly had been coming for my blood, for my life. So why -

    Why was I staring at the moon still? I frowned beneath my mask and flexed my hands once. The fabric around them was tight and secure. I was turned around, to see - the faun woman seemed torn. To one side, her fox companion had carefully taken the Saw-Spear in his muzzle, and was -

    “Ware, little one. There's enough space for fingers between haft and blade, but naught else. If you wish to carry it, there's a mechanism that will extend the blade outwards.” It was like watching one of my siblings play with the blade. The fox grunted and pawed for a moment, then with a click the Saw-Spear snapped open, bouncing with the force of the trigger mechanism. The fox jumped back slightly, his hackles up - but the blade lay there, inert, and he tentatively picked it up, hefting it awkwardly with his muzzle.

    I turned my gaze back to the girl, staring at her with my head tilted to one side. What did she plan now? This entire evening had fallen in line with her wishes, and I hadn't even realized it. So why, now, was I still alive. I raised one eyebrow slowly.

    “I've already told you all I will about the project, and I will not tell you of the other volunteers.” I said, curiosity dripping into my calm tone. “Is there something else you needed, girl?” I paused. “Apologies. Lady.” It was difficult to think of someone barely in academy years as a lady, but the other races did mature faster. She certainly had the endowments of someone at least twice her age. Well. Comparatively.

    The faun rolled her eyes, letting out an irritated bleat of some kind. “Just shut up, for now,” she growled as she pulled me away from the wall. Beneath my mask I pressed my lips shut, and felt my other eyebrow rise to my hairline. There was the sound of another blade slipping from a sheath and this time a dagger was pressed to my neck as I was shoved forwards. She looked around, and frowned.

    “You can jump down?” I tilted my head in a nod. “Don't try to run. I'll just kill you.” That - was obvious. I moved to the edge again, and jumped down, dropping down the two stories to land with a somewhat painful thud, as my knees flexed. A few moments later - ah. The fox could grow. That was - annoying. But he held the five foot long Saw-Spear in his mouth with ease now, as he landed on the ground next to me. He stared steadily at me until the faun girl dropped down as well, and she quickly grabbed my shirt and pressed her dagger to the small of my back, obscuring it from view as she started forcing me down the streets.
    Cruel and brutal are the blades for the Beast
    It's time to Carve and Clatter and Cleave.

    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.

  6. #16
    Legend

    EXP: 127,650, Level: 15
    Level completed: 55%, EXP required for next Level: 7,350
    Level completed: 55%,
    EXP required for next Level: 7,350


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    14,025

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    Why she was taking him prisoner and not killing him there and then, she hadn't quite fully figured out yet. But right now with such a torment of different emotions in her mind she knew she had no ability to strike a death blow. Never to someone who did not have a weapon in hand and gave up in that manner. Therefore, apparently she was taking this abomination of a … drow? Was he a drow? Well she would find out soon. Apparently she was taking him prisoner.

    Glancing to Veridian she saw the earth spirit drag along the spear in his glorious form, only the smallest of flames flickering along his coat right now. He kept them desperately and eagerly away from the blade which made a horrible skkrtttt noise against the cobbles. Sighing, she looked away from him and kept going, pressing the plynt dagger in her hand deeper into the Huntsman's back as she sped him up. The man hissed slightly as the blade slid into the fabric, piercing it and drawing blood.

    He seemed awfully compliant, not struggling out of possible respect of what she could do to him. It made it easier for her to direct him, angling him around various tight corners but keeping it subtle. By the dark for the night the streets were more dead than normal, and she chose the darker alleyways which tended to be more empty. But there was a couple of times where she had to relax and make it look like they were walking just arm in arm, smiling pleasantly at the men. The Hunter would nod his head politely at those who seemed to recognize him - where were a fair few, surprisingly. The pleasant stroll seemed to surprise people, and the soft banalities left them to gawp a little, then gasp at the sight of the five metre fox somewhere behind them carrying that giant weapon.

    Eventually the stench of the harbour hit them and it became clear that was where they were headed. Under her breath she hissed at the Huntsman, “Don't say anything, do anything. My ladies will ask questions, but if you want to stay safer, then don't answer them. Alright?” Still staying silent like she had told him to earlier, the Huntsman nodded once.

    With his silence she found it easier to walk the full length of the jetty with him in tow. As they got onto the wood, then deeper out to the sea and past the small narrow boats to closer to the ships she pressed in tighter to him. The blade of her dagger moved back to his neck, pressing into the skin. Veridian at this point seemed to find an easier way to hold the weapon of the Huntsman and actually fully balanced it in his jaws at this point. Philomel rolled her eyes as they approached the larger and larger boats, eventually coming to a sloop, and then a rich, dully-lit ship just beyond. A massive figurehead of a fox proclaimed it as hers, with the snout rising to the sky.

    She breathed in once, then grunted more with determination and began to push him up the gangplank. Almost immediately a crew member ran up, whispering with curiosity.

    “My lady, what is this? Weren't you out hunting the abominations?”

    The faun huffed. “Yes I was, and this is a man who is my prisoner. Privately. I am storing him in the brig, but you are not to ask him any questions … got it?”

    The woman gawped for a moment, then curtseyed, hurrying quickly off.
    *admin at your service*

    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.
    The Primordials: Professor Charles and Moros.

  7. #17
    Senior Member

    EXP: 7,350, Level: 3
    Level completed: 59%, EXP required for next Level: 1,650
    Level completed: 59%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,650


    The Huntsman's Avatar

    GP
    1,069

    Name
    Fil'ayn Kiljarden
    Age
    87
    Race
    Drow
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Alerar
    Well. Now, I was on a boat. Look at me, I'm on a boat. Well, a ship. I bit back a sigh, biting my tongue in fact. My back stung where her dagger had pierced at one point, but she didn't seem to notice it had happened. A plynt weapon then, one that absorbed the blood before she noticed it leaking out. That was fine by me. So - I was to stay silent, not answer any questions from any of the others on the ship, and I was a prisoner. The faun pushed me down the stairs, now openly brandishing the dagger as she forced me to move.

    Down and down we went, past layers of the ship where various things were happening. We were well below sea level at this point, and I felt mildly uncomfortable knowing that I was trapped, on a ship, underwater, surrounded by people who quite clearly considered me a terrible monster. The fact that I didn't even have my Saw-Spear only made my uncomfortable tension worse.

    On we went, into the bowels of the ship. The faun pointed ahead of us - ah, a row of small cells. Heeding her unspoken command, I strode into one of them and rolled my shoulders. Fantastic. My hunts interrupted for prejudice, and then I was taken captive. By a girl half my age no less. I sighed and turned around, sitting down cross legged on the floor. My fingers drummed against my back as I studied the woman from behind my glasses. I stayed silent, watching her, waiting. I'd long since found people felt quiet was unnatural and sought to fill it. So, soon enough she would likely explain just why she had taken me captive.

    She stared at me a moment before moving. Coming into the cell itself she grabbed something at the back of the barred area, then pulled it forwards with a rattling of linked chains. A blade flashed against my skin, and briefly my hands were free … to be replaced with manacles. The faun stepped back, and grunted before turning her back to leave.

    Well. This was wonderful. What the hell even was this woman’s plan at this point? Leaving me to die in a cell was a far sight worse than just killing me on the rooftop - that would have been a clean death. I sighed and moved back, until I was sitting against the wall where the manacles where attached. The faun had slid closed the cell door, then locked the wooden door leading to the outside of the cells, I could hear the loud click. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, staring up at the gently swaying roof above me. Well. I was swaying too.

    I should have just thrown myself off there. I would probably have died, but at least I wouldn't be stuck with a woman who very, very clearly hated me. I closed my eyes. I should have just left the moment a stranger from out of town came looking for me. Consistently, this had led to bad things. Now, I just had to wait. Not a lot I could do here - the manacles were just, just heavy enough that I couldn't break them. And what, was I supposed to break free and fight my way through an entire ship of hostile warriors, when I didn't even have my primary weapon? No.

    No, I would just have to sit and see what in the seven hells this woman wanted. Though, if this took long enough that I thought I would starve or dehydrate, I would not let that happen. She hadn't bothered taking my spikes from me, and I could end things with those.
    Cruel and brutal are the blades for the Beast
    It's time to Carve and Clatter and Cleave.

    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.

  8. #18
    Legend

    EXP: 127,650, Level: 15
    Level completed: 55%, EXP required for next Level: 7,350
    Level completed: 55%,
    EXP required for next Level: 7,350


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    14,025

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    She slumped to her captain's cabin and fell into her bed. It was a simple, wooden thing build into the structure of the ship itself. Facedown and still fully armoured she huffed angrily into the rough covers.

    “Arrrghhhhh!” she yelled at herself. “Argh!”

    You like him, Veridian's voice came.

    Tilting her head she saw him, sitting in the slit of the ajar doorway, back in normal sized form. His golden eyes blazed at her, full of merriment and amusement. Her jaw tightened.

    “Veridian-”

    You're going to end up letting him go. Unharmed and well.

    Huffing she grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. Nickering with laughter the fox leapt up and teased her as the thing thumped against the door, nowhere near enough for the gap.

    You're a complicated person, Philomel van der Aart, but not to me! he grinned and then suddenly fled as she leaned halfway off the bed, her face a twist of anger. All she could here were scrabbling paws and the sound of foxy chuckling.

    For a moment she glared at the door, before rolling her eyes. Then - ugh - she fell back on the bed. Because Veridian was right, she did actually like this Huntsman. The way he was, his honour and his graciousness, the way he had described his hunt, that was what made her conflicted. He had spoken like a true fighter, one who understood the ways of combat well and, in another life, one whom she could be strong allies with and forge bonds. They seemed to share the same morals for what should be allowed to stay alive, and the same attitude of protecting the weak. Her heart hammered in her chest as she bored hell into the wooden ceiling with her glare.

    But he was what she had come here to destroy. To war against, to send a message to Alerar declaring ‘this is not right’! Yes, they had less magic than the general country, but so far Philomel's attitude to that had been that it was wrong to challenge the right of nature. It was cruel to use her resources with no regard for her future. It was truly an abomination to alter one's being …

    But … was it?

    Uneasily she dragged a hand through her hair and swung off her bed. She set about the process of taking off her armour, leaving just her belt with her mighty sword and dagger in it. Instead of her dragonscale armour she pulled on a loose shirt and slipped over it a corset, pinning it in place and feeling the familiar comfort.

    She stared at herself in the mirror for some time, before grabbing and shoving her now old and battered tricorn hat on her head. Turning around she marched to the kitchens. There, she ordered some food, and watched as the hands gasped and set to work to make her a fine plate. Heavily she leant on the counter, chewing the inside of her mouth as Veridian sent her an image of him still watching her, now from a crack in the floor above.

    She sighed. Is his weapon safe?

    A blink. I hid it in my space. Philomel, you know I do not mind whatever decision you make with this person. I agree with all your thoughts.

    Her hands grew white as she gripped the counter before she threw the contact of the fox-form earth-spirit from her mind. At least he was trying to be nice and 'his space’ … well even she did not know where it was on the ship. The food came a few more minutes into her fuming. Bread, fine salted, warmed meat, what fresh fruit had been battered that day from the harbour, along with figs, and a wineskin of rich red wine. She also requested a skin for water and these items she grabbed before she thanked them and twisted around.

    And slipped as unseen and quietly as she could down to the cells. Where she was determined to keep the man alive who had this day become her prisoner.
    *admin at your service*

    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.
    The Primordials: Professor Charles and Moros.

  9. #19
    Senior Member

    EXP: 7,350, Level: 3
    Level completed: 59%, EXP required for next Level: 1,650
    Level completed: 59%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,650


    The Huntsman's Avatar

    GP
    1,069

    Name
    Fil'ayn Kiljarden
    Age
    87
    Race
    Drow
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Alerar
    In this cell with me were currently, by my last count: rats, hiding in the shadows and darting in and out of the cells; a lizard of some sort that was clinging up near the roof that had begun moving not long after the faun woman left; and no less than seventeen insects of various kinds-I stamped down. Make that sixteen insects. This was the third one that had tried to take a bite out of me. Overall, a decent enough little cell.

    I had some room to move, if I had cared to. I could move to about halfway into the cell, but that was as far as the manacles extended. I could also, just barely and with a bit of contortions needed, lay down on the small, simple cot that was really barely more than a sheet over frame. At least it had a sheet, and I wasn't just lying on a frame of wood. I had slept on worse - in the Huntsman’s course, after a certain point, you were expected to provide your own furnishings by hunting down creatures and using the remains to make things. At least this cot didn't smell like poorly tanned hide.

    I was currently sitting with my back against the wall. It had taken a little bit of wiggling, and flexing, but I had managed to get my hands out from behind my back. Thankfully the woman had bound my hands like I had offered them to her, clasped together, so getting my hands in front of me just required some limberness, no need to dislocate anything. My left leg lay stretched out in front of me, while my right was bent, knee up in the air in front of my chest. My right arm was resting on my knee, my hands hanging together connected by the manacles.

    It was now, an exercise in patience. I had, by my estimation, two and a half days before my body began to suffer the effects of dehydration. I'd seen people pass in that way - it was not pleasant at all. So. Two days, and if I had seen no sign of my captor, begin to consider drastic measures. I could sit, or move in my rather limited range, for two days. Truly, being able to move was a kindness because it meant my body would not begin to hurt itself from the lack of movement.

    I frowned. Beneath the creaking of the ship, the slopping of the waves - was that another sound? I kicked the bars nearest me, sending the rats scampering away, and closed my eyes to listen intently. There it was again, a faint sound of movement, barely audible at all - coming from down the hall. Towards the stairs. Hah. Had one of the women of the ship come to put an end to their captain’s prisoner? I tensed myself. While I had submitted to the faun, the rest of the ship was a different matter. I would defend myself as much as I could.

    The footsteps came nearer, large clunking sounds. They strode with determination, getting clearer until - they stopped right outside the door. A shadow appeared in the grill for a moment, indiscernible before there was a rattling of keys and the clunk of a lock.
    The wooden door was shoved open to reveal the casually dressed, tricorn wearing faun.

    Hmm. Well, she looks rather different when she isn't armored and trying to kill me.
    Cruel and brutal are the blades for the Beast
    It's time to Carve and Clatter and Cleave.

    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.

  10. #20
    Legend

    EXP: 127,650, Level: 15
    Level completed: 55%, EXP required for next Level: 7,350
    Level completed: 55%,
    EXP required for next Level: 7,350


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    14,025

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

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    Into the room the faun came, a plate of food balanced on the heel of her hand. Under her arm was tucked two skins of liquid. She did not look at the man as she locked the door behind her, then went to unlock the cell door itself. Pausing, she took a step back to hook the keys on a fixture by the door, well out of the Huntsman's reach before she dragged back the cell door. Then she let out a breath as she slumped on the floor in the cell door, folding her goat legs beneath her.

    “I have no idea what you things eat so here,” she pushed the plate of bread, fresh fruit and meat towards him. It skittered along the ground, coming to a halt as it contacted his boot. “And here,” she threw a skin at the ground in front of him. “Water.”

    She flicked her hair back over her shoulder with a twist of her head and finally lifted up her eyes to stare daggers at him. The other skin remained in her hand.

    Slowly his hands lifted up and he removed his glasses, setting them to the side. When he looked back, his silver eyes were glinting in the low light. “You have my gratitude.” He said calmly. His hands reached out and he pulled the water skin to his side, then the plate of food. He shifted to sitting with his legs folded under him - but he didn't eat just yet. Instead he stared at her.

    “Just, what exactly, do you think happened to me? That I am some kind of impossible abomination, full of parts that are not my own?” He shook his head, his mask swaying slightly as he did so. “I am still a Drow, good lady. The serum merely enhanced my reflexes and strength - and I have seen spells that do far worse.” His fingers laced together in his lap as he watched Philomel.

    Slowly the faun uncorked the wine before chugging it back into her throat. The rich red liquid quenched her thirst for a moment but she kept her eyes steady on his, her own slate grey ones nothing to the silver glories. For a moment she did nothing but glare, wondering in her mind if she really could tell him all. After a moment she rolled her eyes, shoving the stopper back in the wine.

    “Spells come from magic, which is blessed by the gods or some other power, for instance the Tap - but it is part of nature. Science is not. It is darker than nature, a way of trying to play divinity without being divine. It is an abomination, therefore you are.” Her jaw tightened, her shoulders straightening. “That is what I have been taught, that is what I understand. I come rarely to Alerar because of my hatred of this place, but I was given a chance to make a difference this once and …” she shoved the wineskin down and set her hand steadily on the hilt of her sword.

    “Well. As you can see apparently my willingness to end what I believe should not exist slipped.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I want to know why you acted as you did. Why did you not fight more?”

    He stared at her for a long minute before leaning back, shaking his head. “I told you. I am a Hunter. You, were not my prey. I am no beast, no monster, to just lash out and strike others with no concern. Let me ask you a question. All those sources you say, which you believe to be right and good. None, none of them are natural. Each and every one, is more than our world has to offer. Magic? The gods? They are above our world, outside of it. Yes, connected to it at times. You think science is unnatural? It is hardly any more so - in fact, I would say, it is more natural. We look to the world around us, seek to understand it and ourselves. Everything, every single thing inside of me, is born of this world, with no outside influence. How then, am I less natural, than a mage who has grafted a demon to his soul? How then, am I oless natural than someone who can bend and manipulate the elements themselves? They do not run rampant, and I do not. It has nothing to do with what we are made from - be it outside influences or scientific - but with our minds. And mine, my mind, is untouched.” He stared at her intently, silver eyes gleaming.

    “That is not nature,” Philomel's argued. “Magic is … gifted by the gods, life was created as them and how more natural can you get but creation itself. What is, has been formed, is how it should be, what they dreamed it should be. Your science is taking the power of those gods and using it when you should not have the power!” She pounded a fist on her side of the cell doorway. A thundering ring ran out, loud and terrible as the metal shook. Philomel was stunned for a moment and then her face suddenly contorted. She screwed it up, pulling her hand back to her body. It was larger, though, than when it had gone out and had fur running down the back as she hissed in pain.

    A large ugly dent was also now in the cell door. Philomel hissed and glared at the Huntsman as she cradled her hand to her breasts. “That was now your fault. You cannot say that science is nature. It is the opposite. It is trying to replicate the power of gods.”
    *admin at your service*

    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.
    The Primordials: Professor Charles and Moros.

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