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  1. #21
    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 stared at her silently for a long minute. She was growing more enraged every time I spoke, and yet she stayed. Was she trying to understand? Or was she just waiting for me to say something she could kill me for. I sighed, and shook my head.

    “How many creation stories do you know of? Of gods, claiming that they shaped the world? I can tell you at least three - the Elves have one, the Dwarves have one, and I'm sure your goddess has one of her own. Each says they did it separately, at least the two I know of personally. We do not, -I- do not, seek to replicate the powers of the gods. I seek to understand the world. To hunt. We use the world around us, nothing more than that and our own minds. Is that not exactly why the gods set down? That we should fill this land and grow to know it?” I didn't know why she stayed. I had no idea if she was just - just what? Why was she staring at me so intently, why did she care so much what I thought? Was I not just a monster to her, an abomination?

    I lifted up my hand, and pulled down my face mask. Gloved fingers ran along coal-black skin, tinted with hues of purple. “When you look at me, with just your eyes, what do you see? Am I a monster? For what, using the world instead of the gods?” I shook my head and tilted my hat back to give her a clearer view of my face.

    She straightened when she was faced with what had been hidden, and her eyes glimmered with something of an understanding before she shook her head. “Firstly, you do not know how my goddess thinks. I'm her priestess, I'm pretty sure I do, not you. She has never made any claim on creation, aside from my race, another one and some trees. Secondly there many stories, culture to culture, but they vary in that manner because each race was created separately. Stories become contorted over time, manipulated, changed. They-” She huffed. “You do not look a monster, but what you have done to your body should not be. We live in a world where we know the gods are real, and we see them. Can you not have any respect for that?”

    “Of course I respect the gods. I do not idolize them though.” I wanted to rub my face, but I also did not want to beat my chest with the chain, so I refrained from it. “But you, good lady, have not answered. Why is it so bad that we used things from the natural world to give our people a better chance of survival? We’ve made no pacts with demons, we have not grafted abominations together. I am still just as much a Drow as I was before. I'm stronger and a little faster, but I've no unnatural hungers, no craving to consume or destroy the world around me.” Was she just so against science? Had a scientist murdered her family? Hah. No, that wouldn't have happened - because a scientist would have just studied them. I frowned though.

    “Have you experienced a madman, claiming to be a scientist? One who twisted the world and corrupted it? Perverted and destroyed it? If so - that is not what science is. Science is the drive to understand, to know and learn. What was done to me was done to protect people, not to hurt them.” I watched her carefully. There were those who claimed they furthered science, as they wrought devastation on the world around them. Perhaps that was the cause of her hate?

    Philomel breathed in, casting her eyes away as they reflected disgust. “I have seen what science does. I once saw a plague that had been created in a laboratory be spread onto a land and kill everything in sight for miles after miles. Granted I fought on the same side as her in that war, granted she is now not …” she grimaced a moment, trying to forget the being that was Madison Freebird. The beast. The monster. Twisted and befouled, forced to become what she had never wanted to be.

    “And I have seen the other side. I've seen a girl, sickly, told she would never be able to live past the age of thirty, given new life because a scientist dedicated twenty years to figuring out what was wrong with her body and fixing it.” So she had seen the foul side of things. But not the good? No wonder she hates science so much. But wait. Something - why did it seem like something was missing from her answer? I frowned as I worked over what she had said.
    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. #22
    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
    Philomel kept looking away. Then, quite furious, she dragged her hooves under her and pushed herself up. She threw the wineskin to the ground and said with a rather bitter tone.

    “I am going to go now. Don't go anywhere. We have more to discuss.” She was grabbing the cell door before she realised her rather stupid comment. Rolling her eyes to herself she tugged the door closed, shoving it past its dent that she had put into it. With one last look to the drow she paused before sighing.

    “I admit that you yourself are not an abomination as a person. But what you have been taught, brought up in a world where that is all you know … your ideas are wrong.”

    The man rolled his shoulders in a gentle shrug. “And I would say the same of you, good lady. But thank you, for seeing I am not a monster.” He gave her a cool, pleasant smile. Then he shook his hands. “And I do not have any plans to leave any time soon.”

    “And thus, we have come to an impasse,” she breathed out and paused. “My intention at the moment is not to kill you. Do you eat normal foods or do you need a … special diet? I know little of drow and their needs in that area.” She spoke as she moved, reaching to get the key once more from the hook and secure the cell door closed.

    “Meat, bread - I eat the same as most other races. There is a mineral we need periodically, but I will not need it for some months. And no - that is most drow, not those who have been experimented in. It is a deficiency in our systems, an inability to produce something we need.” He shrugged. The door clicked between them, and she turned to look at him through the bars. “I suppose I look forward to your next visit, good lady.” His silver eyes remained on her form, intently watching her.

    “I am glad, good sir,” she said with a small amount of hesitation.

    Then she nodded to him once and left, shutting the door and turning the key there. She took a pause, sucking in a long breath before she shook herself to start striding back to her normal life. The Huntsman certainly was a man of mystery, who sought to persuade her in his way of thinking, and she in his. Yet, she knew she had the upper hand here - he was her prisoner.

    Head angled high she took the stairs up towards the deck, ignoring the golden eyes who stared at her from the darkness. They moved from it to a pace behind her, keeping with his small pawsteps a few paces constantly behind her as she walked determined up to the top of the ship. She had had a conversation, and yes, there would be more, most certainly. It had been barely half an hour that they had spoken, but it had been half an hour of opening her mind to knowledge of a world she admittedly hardly knew. So much for prejudice.

    Yet still she would strive further to persuade him. Steadily she got to the deck and looked around at the early dawn and the people working there. She nodded to a few, walked until a question came to her. Veridian followed silently as she threw herself into work, trying to distract herself from all the thoughts that the Huntsman had struck into her head.

    Soon though, things had to change. An event had to happen that would alter everything. For that is the way of the world.

    “Matriarch!” came the desperate, exhausted call as well as running footsteps. “Matriarch, your daughter-”
    *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. #23
    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
    So. She thought me misguided. I, was was what, more than twice her age? Hah. No, I'm sorry faun captain, I've lived a lot longer than you. I am no misguided stripling, to be won over by a captor. Especially not one so full of prejudice that she considered me an abomination and tried to kill me before changing her mind. I almost looked forward to her next visit in truth - I wanted to keep talking with her, force her to open her eyes.

    Because I had realized what was bothering me before she left. Twice I had asked a question - and yes, I had asked others around it. But each and every other question was answered at some point, except for one. One that I felt was rather important.

    ‘Why am I a monster for using natural things to become stronger?’

    The faun had answered everything else in some way, whether a confirmation or a rejection. Everything but that one, rather vital question. Only - had she? Had she ignored it? Because at the end, when she was getting ready to leave…

    I hadn't been a monster in her eyes, but a man. Maybe a misguided man, but a man. So. While she hadn't vocally answered it, she had. I wasn't a monster for using the natural world, but for using science. Which I now knew she only had negative associations with. A plague, unleashed. A shame that she did not know of the good things science brought. People who had new leases on life because science gave them what they would have otherwise been denied.

    Science might be capable of creating disasters. But it was also equally capable of curing disease and saving lives. It was a tool, a valuable one, but one that could be misused like any other tool in the world. A hammer might be used to build a house - or used to break a man’s bones. I hummed as I thought. Then I paused, my thoughts interrupted.

    The ship was rocking. Moving. The water was sloughing of the sides, I could hear it through the wooden walls of the cell - the hull of the ship. We were moving, leaving port. I took in a very deep breath. ”My intention is not to kill you.” She had said. Well, she hadn't lied. I just - wouldn't be seeing home for a while, it seemed. I let out a long, deep sigh. I didn't care about very much in this world beyond the Hunt - but I did love my family, and now? Now I had no idea when I would see them next. Fantastic.

    One of the rats chittered, slowly approaching me. I looked down at it - the rodent was surprisingly clean. Even after watching for nearly two minutes, I saw no sign of any mites or fleas. Huh. He was also surprisingly calm as I reached out and ran one finger down his back. I shook my head as he pressed against my leg. “Looks like we are, quite literally, in the same boat here, hmm? Here.” I tore off a piece of meat from what the faun had brought me, and offered it to the rat. There was a squeak, and the food was snatched. To my mild surprise, he stayed by my side as he chewed at the meat.

    “Well. I could do with worse company for being stuck in a cell for who knows how long.” I picked up the bread and slowly started eating it. I didn't know how long it would be before the faun woman returned, so, I would do my best to make the food last. At least the water skin would buy me another day or two, if I was forgotten down here. The hours began to slip by, my rat companion and I quietly sitting next to each other. After eating, he crawled into my lap - most likely, this fellow had been someone’s pet at some point, he was far too comfortable with drow for that not to be the case.
    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. #24
    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
    It was around an hour after this that the sound of keys began to scrape in the lock. They were more hesitant than before. They moved as if considering themselves if they would allow entrance into this darker, slightly misty room, before the main door opened and through it came - not the faun. But rather, Gosling entered, carrying a plate of good quality food and two more skins.

    The Huntsman looked up, and the rat in his lap froze, staring at her. He tilted his head to one side. At some point he had removed his hat, and it was now sitting on the edge of the cot, with his glasses resting on top of it. The man’s fingers were gently stroking the rat, which looked like it wanted to bolt under the cot and hide.

    Gosling ducked her head slightly as she walked forwards to unlock the cell door before sliding it open. Then, after setting the keys up, she came forwards, eyes right on him. In the doorway she paused before mumbling.

    “The Matriarch would be down herself but she is dealing with … well. A very major occurrence. She said you eat anything?” The man slowly nodded, watching her. His head cocked to the other side, examining her, those silver eyes sharp and intent.

    “Right,” she flustered slightly, pushing her spectacles further up her nose before she held out the plate. She was still wearing the semi-formal dress of the previous evening. “And I have wine too. Unless you prefer beer?”

    Still unnervingly silent he shrugged. Two fingers lifted up and wiggled at her, and for a moment she thought she saw a quirk of a smirk on one edge of his mouth, but then it was gone, leaving his face blank and impassive, except for that intense stare. Her brow furrowed as she watched his gesture before she huffed and leaned to set the plate down. Her eyes glanced to the other plate, but could not see it right away, but she just shook her head with confusion. A poor quality metal round thing would not be too much use for an escape attempt. Dumping down the two skins she let out a sigh. Her eyes flickered back to him when she realised his eyes were looking at her …

    Quickly, she straightened, a frustration coming into her movements. Her hands smoothed over her dress as she stared at him incredulous.

    “Don't - don't do that. What, so you now are interested now we are here? You some sort of beast folk now, with 'cycles’ of when you are or are not interested?!”

    He let out a slow, low chuckle, and shook his head gently, once. “I never once said I was not interested before, good lady. I merely do not outright seek sex for pleasure. That does not mean I do not appreciate a fine view.”

    The sudden speaking flustered Gosling, catching her off guard. “Well - well,” she said, “Don't let my lady find you doing that. People will pay fine high prices for that, you know. More than you could probably afford.” Then she blinked a few times before flapping her hands. “How - so you don't respond then like other men? Why? They are so easy to beguile, you saw, with the techniques I have learnt.”

    “Indeed. However, that is because for them, sex is an imperative. They crave it, crave intimacy. I, do not. Sex is a tool for me, a distraction. A pleasant one, at times, but a distraction. I will oblige my body’s desires, but I will not go out of my way to seek out that satiation.” Cool, calm, mildly pleasant - like he was talking about the weather, not sex. Still those intensely staring eyes remained locked on hers.

    “Well for most of the women on this ship it was, or still is, at least a part time occupation, so kindly bare that in mind when looking at us.” Haughtily she folded her arms. “Distraction indeed. If the Matriarch wanted she could have you begging for her.”

    “Indeed? I doubt it, and I doubt she will ever want to try.” Another soft chuckle. “I do rather think she - ah, not my place to say. I thank you, good lady.”

    “Right, it is not your place to say,” she nodded once. Then she paused before stepping back and hauling the bars back across. “I'll go get that damn beer, you ... reptile.”

    And there was a scrabbling of keys as she locked the door before sauntering out.
    *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. #25
    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
    Staring at the door, I had to wonder. How the hell was I a reptile? Was it because I didn't seek out sex? Was it because I didn't care which I drank, out of beer or wine? I honestly had no idea. I also.. Didn't really care. If that was the best insult she could come up with, I doubt she would ever get under my skin. And what on earth did she mean, to keep in mind that most of these women were, or are, whores, when I look at them?

    Did she want me to think ‘hey, I could hire one to sate my body’? I somehow doubted it. Maybe she wanted me to think, that they had once been sexually driven but now were not? I - no. I had no idea what she had meant to make me think there. Maybe she meant, that the women who were once courtesans, would be upset if a man didn't take the time to appreciate what they displayed? But - that wouldn't work with me, I didn't care enough about my body and its desire for sex to really pay attention to things like that.

    I had looked at the woman who just left - because she had bent over literally right in front of me, giving me a clear view down her dress. I had no interest in seeking out sex, but I would not turn it away if offered - directly, as the woman had learned that attempts to seduction fell rather flat against me. I shook my head. All of this was moot. I was a prisoner here. And I had no desire to break out of what was clearly a moving sea vessel. No thank you, I choose life.

    A sound of movement down the hall, and I tilted my head to the side. Well, if she didn't want me staring at her - I reached over and retrieved my glasses, setting them on my nose and obscuring my eyes. Then I leaned my head back and began counting the steps she took to return.

    The woman sauntered in with a mildly irritated look on her face, unlocking the doors before shoving a new skin over my face. I blinked.

    “Here,” she waved it dramatically. “I'm not bringing any more than one a day though. It's good for keeping you healthy here but … too much and.” She screwed up her face and shook her head. “Take, please, Mr Huntsman.” Very well, as she was asking. I reached up, chains rattling, and took the skin from her. I carefully settled it down in my lap and tilted my head to the side, enough to actually look at her with just one eye.

    “My thanks, good lady.” And then I returned to staring at the ceiling. I had discovered I had an uncanny knack for irritating the women on this ship, and I was just going to do my best to interact with the few who came here as little as possible, so that none of them decided to end me.

    “Information wise, I am allowed to tell you that we are on our way back to Corone. So … yes. Sit tight as you'll be here a while. Reptile.” I almost, almost snorted. Instead she stared as I remained silent then turned and stalked out with a huff, slamming and locking the door behind her.

    So. Corone. That was.. Not as bad as Raeria would have been. I sighed and waited for my rat companion to return. It looked like I would be here a while.
    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. #26
    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
    “My lady?”

    A great sigh. Tired eyes looked around and gazed at Gosling running up the stairs to her where she stood on the upper deck. They were making a for headway as the Feisty Fox cut into the waters like a well-honed blade edge, angling down the river they had come and yearning for open ocean.

    “Yes?” Philomel was coiling hair around her finger. “What is it?”

    Gosling paused when she saw the stress lines in the Matriach’s face. She frowned slightly, before starting.

    “He - your … 'friend’ is fed and watered. I think he might prefer beer over wine.”

    Philomel dragged in a breath and thought about it. In all honesty, she did too. It was more that people seemed to expect the grand Matriarch of a feminist guild to desire wine over anything. “Right. Thank you, Gosling.”

    “Another thing …”

    The faun sighed and looked around at her. Taken aback by just how stressed Philomel looked Gosling stopped and shook her head. “N-nothing.” When the Matriach raised an eyebrow, Gosling just smiled sweetly and asked another question.

    “What do we know?”

    A look of torment crossed over the faun’s face. Her jaw tightened and she looked over to a corner where a small russet fox was skulking, his own eyes full of pain.

    “From the reports that Vaeron has managed to piece together,” Philomel sighed, her brow becoming ever creased. “Celandine wandered into the Jagged Mountains. The same place where those old monks live - the Jal’shay. We don't know what has happened, but she basically disappeared right where the last sighting of the medusa was.”

    Gosling's blood suddenly ran cold. Swallowing hard, her eyes went wide and her skin began to turn as pale as a sheet.

    “The - the medusa?”

    Philomel nodded fast, her fingers tensing in and out of fists. “The same one that we have heard stories of living above us, it is believed. Wants to be beautiful, so prays on the beautiful … what might a young girl, blessed by a goddess, be to her hmm?”

    “Fffuck,” whispered the secretary, “Drys above.”

    “Hmm,” Philomel nodded, her eyes dark with fear and fury. “Yes. Not good at all.”

    Silence fell between the two women. Gosling's eyes cast around, surveying where they stood, away from the others before she looked back at her Matriarch. She fumbled as she placed her hands together.

    “So - so your friend …”

    “My daughter comes first beyond anything,” Philomel hissed sharply. “Even a man who I am literally forcing away from his home right now. Don't even begin to ask me about how that feels. If it the right thing. You never know,” she spat. “Corone might be a good eye opener for him.”

    The secretary paused and looked down. “Is there anything I can get you my lady?”

    “Only news that my daughter is safe,” Philomel replied, gripping the hilt of her dagger. “Only that.”
    *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. #27
    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
    The human woman stepped away, having just dropped off another plate of food and a skin of beer for me. They had been mostly ignoring me the last few days - I would see the human, when she brought me food twice a day and beer with one of the two meals. I drank the beer sparingly, and she was distracted enough not to realize I had at least two full skins still under the cot. I thanked her as she left - always in a rush, this one, like she could barely stand to see me. No matter, I wasn't perturbed. I was however, itching to hunt. It had been nearly a week now since I slew something, and my blood was beginning to boil just ever so slightly.

    So I settled back in to continue waiting, chewing on the chunk of bread. My little rat companion - now named Radford in my head - slowly came out and I gave him a piece of the citrus fruit that sat on the plate. Then - there was the sound of hooves, faint on the wood, coming down the hall. My right eyebrow rose. Was the faun coming down to see me? This would be the first time since before the ship set sail that I saw her. I settled back, chewing on the crust.

    The door was shoved open and the sight of a stressed and anxious looking woman greeted me, but one who seemed determined to bring me food. After opening the cell door with a loud thud she stared at me for a while with a creased brow and dark eyes before walking in, then she settled down on the floor.

    “Back to resume our conversation,” she announced. I tilted my head - then reached under the cot and tossed her one of the skins of beer.

    “Drink, first. You look like you need it.” I normally wouldn't have cared - but this woman quite literally held my life in her hands if she cared to. She popped it open and sniffed, and her eyebrows rose. “I am truthfully not much of a drinker, so the beer has been accumulating down here.” I explained, shrugging one shoulder.

    The faun glared for a moment before she swigged down a gulp. It seemed to help, as her eyes on swallowing the first mouthful dropped down to the floor, then filled with a sort of sorrow. Heavily, she sighed before drinking more.

    She took a few mouthfuls, seeming a lot more calm, before she wiped her mouth with her wrist and lifted her eyes back up to look at me.

    “My name is Philomel,” she said thickly. “I am a priestess of the goddess Drys, goddess of trees, fauns and earth spirits. Drys charged me, some years ago, to seek out those who seek to harm her creations.” I tilted my head to the side. That was - well. It was a reason to hate industrial projects. Not science perhaps, but industry. I reached over and moved the second skin for of beer out from under the cot and set it down near her. Then I sat back, chains rattling as I moved back.

    “I am a Huntsman. The only Huntsman, from my graduating class from the academy. I follow in the footsteps of my father, and hope to inspire my siblings to become Huntsmen or Guardians themselves.” If she wished to share some of her past, I will do the same. “Guardians are the shields of the small cities, Huntsmen are the swords bared against the monsters that would threaten out homes.”

    She nodded slowly. “I see. So presumably you had a name once but it was lost to your determination to follow in your father's footsteps. Interesting.” She took another drink. “Tell me, why did you seek to improve your body with a serum? Was yours not good enough?”

    I tilted my head as she spoke. Not quite right about my name - I just didn't care if people knew it, calling me Huntsman or Hunter was enough. Hell, some people legitimately were named Hunter. Names implied relationships, and for now I didn't seek those. But - let her think as she pleased. But she - she wanted to know why I had sought to improve myself. I hummed in thought before replying.

    “When I was young, learning from my father, he imparted on me a lesson that I hold near and dear to my heart even now. ‘Huntsmen are sometimes all that stands between the beasts, and civilization. A good Hunter then, must use all tools at his disposal to Hunt, to keep those beasts at bay.’ Good Priestess. I grew up, and attended the academy, with the goal of being a Good Hunter. Decades, with that refrain in my ears. So, I use all tools I can to Hunt. Science. Blade. Serum. Even magic.” It was not something I told many. Magic was, even now, shunned in Alerar. But - but the Saw-Spear carried an enchantment of its own. A valuable tool for me, and one I cherished. I tilted my head forward and looked over the edge of my glasses at her, silver eyes glinting in the light. I watched her slowly take a drink as she processed all I had said.

    Her brows rose. “Magic? But you have more or less told me you do not use it. Hence the whole, shoving laboratory sick into your body. Willingly.” Laboratory sick. I. I couldn't help but blink at that one. Laboratory sick? That was - a disturbing image. I shook my head to dispel it.

    “Wrong. I told you, I use all tools. I value them equally. Magic is just highly, highly difficult to obtain in my homeland. Why go out of my way for something that would draw the ire of everyone I knew? In Alerar, most view magic as you do science.” She had to know that though. Why was she so surprised that I did not torment myself with the nearly impossible to obtain, when it would only bring me suffering from my friend and even family? Despite my father telling me that, I had taken it more seriously than he did. Even the vampiric enchantment on my weapon was extremely weak, and it took me from more effort to obtain than anything else I used.

    A slight frown creased in her brow. “Another thing that has been bothering me: your king worships the Thayne Khal'jaren. Where do you stand yourself on this, with gods, the deities. I know your race discarded much of the authority of them when you diverted from Raiaera but … why abandon gods?” I sat back. Of course a priestess would want to know who I worshipped. I sighed and slowly shook my head.

    “The matter is a prickly one. From my understanding, it is actually rooted in our separation that you mentioned. We left behind many of the tradition that the high elves follow. They had divinity and magic intertwined with nearly every aspect of their culture. And we despised that culture, rejected it. They too ostracized and hated science, hated those who tried to learn and understand. After generations of being crushed under them, when we broke free, we rejected them and their beliefs. Science, rationality - these became our champion principles. The gods? Magic? Fickle. Change between person to person. Science is - it is neutral. Science is the same no matter who performs it. It can benefit all, and be adjusted to help those who need more specific requirements.” I frowned. I - disliked speaking this much. But she asked, and I would answer.

    “And as for myself. I am ambivalent towards them. As I told you before - I do indeed respect them. Khal’Jaren is - well. He believes in some of the same things we do. Wisdom. Knowledge. Understanding. You say science meddles in the realm of the gods? He openly invites it.” I shrugged. I knew our king was a devout follower, but I - as with many other things - considered it - hasslesome. I just wanted to Hunt, not worry about what god I was or wasn't pissing off. Because nearly every animal under the sun had some god or another that wanted it to be protected.
    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. #28
    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 eyes burned on his. Certainly she had asked the question but his answer was … so much bloody information. Almost too much, and in that moment, for a moment, she regretted coming down here at all. Truly, this man had had time to think about his life and what he believed. She felt a slight pang as she listened to what Khal’Jaren accepted as being acceptable and it jarred in her mind of what she had learnt about her childhood's gods. Her hands folded tightly around the container of beer and she let out a huff as she tried to refute all that he was saying in her mind.

    But who was she to deny the entire belief system of a whole country and culture? Who was she to argue against a being that some of them worshipped and who - well at least they believed he did - supported their scientific endeavours.

    Raising a hand she tugged it through her hair, her jaw working as she tried to not think of Celandine. Instead, she tried to organise in her mind what she was steadily learning about this man before her, and understand herself why she believed what she did.

    “Stupid girl,” she muttered quietly, her thoughts slipping to how Celandine had gone wandering. Just as lost as she was in this conversation.

    “I doubt it.” His voice was still calm and collected, bringing her back to the present. “Unless you are not referring to yourself, in which case, I cannot argue for, nor against your statement.” He shrugged slightly, the chains on his hands rattling.

    She blinked, looking up, frowning slightly. “What?” Her head tilted back, her mighty horns casting away from him, but in such a manner that they could be preparing to be thrown forwards into a harder pitch.

    “You, are not a stupid girl. Young perhaps, but youth does not imply stupidity.” He shrugged.

    She blinked a moment, still confused, before her eyes widened and she gasped a little, realising she had said her thoughts out loud.

    “Oh fuck. No I didn't mean me. I might be apparently naïve and a bit younger than yourself, as you say, but I know I am not stupid.” Philomel paused for a moment before she winced, looking away. Or perhaps she was an idiot. For letting her thoughts here become mixed. Clearly it was too early. “Fuck,” she muttered, swigging back the beer. Her heart pounded, and her thoughts urged her to get up and leave but in all honesty here was as good a place as any. The beer was helping. A lot. All she needed to do was steer the conversation back the way she wanted it. “Fuck … what was I going to say?”

    “Well. You seemed distraught as you came in here. Perhaps.” And the man tilted his head, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “Perhaps you were going to share your woes with a captive audience?” He rattled his chains once as he spoke.

    Her eyes flickered back to him, blinking slightly. The beer was half raised to her lips before she fakely laughed. “Oh ha ha. Hilarious, Mr Huntsman.” A genuine smile though played on her lips, the first in many, many days it felt like.

    Gently, she snorted a note of laughter, looking back away and shaking her head. But the beer did not return to her lips, and the smile slowly faded, as did the joy in her eyes. It was replaced again with the firm look of despair again as she listened to his words and knew there was some genuine truth in them. All the past week she had been stalking the ship and shouting orders. People had been running to her, either asking questions about the 'latest news’ or to give their condolences. Yes, the sentiments were nice, but honestly - repetitively, from the same people, over and over again?! It made her feel like there was no hope. That she had already lost Celandine to the monster. That what Drys had told her last night had come to pass. That … that …

    She dragged her hand through her hair. “I want you to be able to see the goodness of what life is like without your industry. I want you to realise what other potential there is. I want a whole heap of things right now, for one not to be so confused by you and the other to damn …”

    Tipping her head up to the ceiling she let out the biggest, most exhausted sigh. “My daughter has gone missing. In a place where … where a medusa is said to have stalked recently.”
    *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. #29
    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. I confused her? Good. That meant she was listening, hearing, and trying to comprehend. Confusion was an excellent first step, past hatred and disgust, towards eliminating that prejudice that had burned in her eyes before. But - but what was that. A child, missing? Worrisome enough on its own - the young needed to be protected, they had not had a chance to decide what they wanted to be in life. But - it was the beast that she claimed was in the area that truly caught my attention.

    A Medusa. She of the hungry, staring eyes. My blood, which had been simmering, roared to life. Here, then, was a Hunt. A worthy Hunt, against a foul Beast that stalked the land and threatened people. I forced the hungry smile down, letting not a trace of it show in my lips. I couldn't help the way my eyes lit up in anticipation.

    “Why. Good Priestess. You do know, Huntsmen are trained trackers?” Now I did let my lips slowly curl into a smile. “And - I know of measures to take against such a Beast.” My blood was humming in my veins, anticipation burning in my chest.

    Philomel's eyes flickered back to mine, and for a brief moment they were full of hope, and her lips were parted with a soft gasp ... but then it was gone, to be replaced with irritation. “You're not getting away from here that easily. Tell me these measures, if you will.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. Even if they knew the measures, they needed a tracker, and she knew it.

    “Very well. I care not to escape, but to Hunt. I will help yours, this time. If it is a true Medusa, ‘ware the gaze. Polished metal will deflect the petrification inherent to them. If you could obtain a shield with a mirror set in, then you might be able to truly reflect the gaze, and use it against the beast. If it is more a Gorgon - a closely related monster - then keep your distance, and fill it with arrows. Their stone entombment works through the bites of the snakes that make up their hair, and their hands.” I rolled my shoulders and sat back. An offering, and I knew the priestess would recognize it for the peace it was offering.

    “Is there a way to reverse the stone spell, if it is already set in?” her eyes were steady on mine. I paused at this. I did - I did know of one. But. I sighed.

    “A magical one? I know not. You are more likely to have that knowledge than I.” Carefully, I looked away from her. I would not force her to use something she clearly detested.

    Her eyes went stone. And her breath was short, her body going still. There was clear tension in her jaw as she calculated what I was saying.

    “So there is one that is not magical,” she stated more than asked. I gave a slow, methodical nod. Breath rushed from her lungs and she closed her eyes. “I see,” she replied thickly. “I do not want to know any more about that, thank you.” I - well. I would not force her. I merely nodded again.

    “Well. Mirrors, polished metal, and bows. That is the optimal method of dealing with either of those races. You'll know which is it, by the liveliness of the snakes. If they are active, writhing, squirming. It is a gorgon. If they hang limp except when she screams, a Medusa.” I gave one last bit of advice. Internally, I was raging. I took back my statement about her not being stupid -

    No. She was a damn idiot. Her daughter was in danger, and rather than hear the cure, she dismissed it, and dismissed help. I hoped that her daughter stayed safe - because if not, I didn't think the mother would be able to help. Damnation, you titfaun, your prejudice may hurt your child! But - but I bit my tongue, literally, and remained silent.

    Philomel stood up abruptly, and stalked out of the cell, leaving it with a slam and a click of the lock. I sighed, then spat the blood in my mouth the side. “I pray your daughter is safe.” I muttered softly, shaking my head.
    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. #30
    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
    The one thing that the Feisty Fox did not have in ready supply was books. Reference guides, treatises, descriptions on history and geography … a ship was not particularly an ideal place for such. Most of those that belonged to the Gilded Lily did so back in the vast fortress where they had their more permanent base. It meant that Philomel had a lack of resources in which to find more information about how to track, find and kill a medusa or gorgon beyond what the Huntsman had told her.

    She had found a mirror - that had been the easy part. And in all likelihood Vaeron had managed to collect some also, if he had tracked down the right information first. In fact she had three - two small and a third a foot square plain of metal that had glass pressed as a layer over top. So she had a start, but she had little middle or end. She gathered all the maps she could find from the deck to the very bowels of the ships and poured over them, trying to find what best suited a search over land. The problem was that ships have sea charts in majority but land maps in few, and thus she found it difficult to even begin to construct a plan.

    Two days went by of absolute frustration. During this time Philomel went to meet the Huntsman once, and hardly spoke to him but rather shoved his plate down before sauntering off. It was clear from the way he looked at her that he thought she was being stupid now. There, simply waiting for her was a willing hunter born exactly for this sort of thing. A man who she had scorned at first, swore to end, but then faltered. She had dragged him to foreign seas, subjected him to a short life of subjugation - but in physical concept only.

    “I won't,” she kept repeating to herself as she tore through copious captains logs, journals even though all of them were irrelevant. “I won't ask him-”

    Golden eyes looked back at her. She blinked and then hissed at them, flapping a hand at him.

    “Veridian, please -”

    I hate the industry of Alerar as much as you, he said softly, But options are staring you right in the face and you refuse to accept it.

    “I can kill!” she protested, “He told me the differences, and what I need to kill it.” She gestured angrily at the table. “I'm far more powerful than his weak self. If he can end one life, so can I?”

    You can kill it yes. But, Veridian stressed. Do you have the experience and the instinct to understand where it's lair lies, which direction it could move, what behaviours it exhibits.

    “I can get him to tell me,” she growled, hastily trying to draw out a copy of the best map she could find of the area. It was poor. “That would be-”

    That would take weeks, beloved, he sighed, swishing his tail as he watched her shake her head with frustration. Even years that none of us have.

    “Oh - go boil your eyeballs,” she retorted back, and Veridian retreated. But he could feel and hear her heart beat fast. Because he knew that she thought he was right. He knew that she had had these stresses running through her own mind, and he had repeated them back at him.

    “I won't,” she said again, to empty air. “I won't, I won't, I …”

    The ship got into harbour the next day. Gathering up what she had - the very little she had - Philomel charged down the gangplank. Under her arm she had the rolls of sparse notes and maps, in a satchel at her side she had the mirrors tucked and folded safely away. She strode with purpose and with pride, fully armoured and dressed as her eyes scanned the jetty for a singular individual standing there.

    Tall. Brown hair, but greying. Hands shoved into pockets and on his face two scars, one on either check. They gave him the permanent ability to never be ability to smile, but this day it did not matter. For there was nothing to be happy about. When he saw Philomel he let out a grunting sigh and walked forwards to throw his arms around her.

    He held her, only as a friend would, but still close. He embraced and comforted her, whispering apologies in her ear again and again. She kept shaking her head, telling him it was not her fault, but he kept saying it was.

    “You tasked me with looking out for her and she wandered off.”

    “It is not your fault Vaeron,” the faun told her daughter's father. “It is not your fault.”

    Vaeron grimaced but shook his head. “Philomel, there is nothing. I found so little.”

    Looking up to him and drawing back she waved her hand before grabbing the scrolls of paper under her arm. “I found maps. And some information. It may get us somewhere.”

    Vaeron paused, his eyes glancing around the general hubbub of the small town jetty before he unrolled the papers. He blinked, silent for a moment. She waited for his nod, but it never came.

    “What is it?” she frowned. “I found …”

    “Princess, this is not enough,” he sighed. “Seriously. She could be anywhere, and unless you want to take days scouring the site then, thus increasing her chances of death … well.” His eyes narrowed. Her jaw tightened.

    “We need another solution.”

    Veridian hopped up onto her shoulders and grinned at Vaeron. Philomel tightened her jaw and began to shake her head.

    “No,” she began to say, “No way …”

    The unsmiling man frowned, and looked from fox to faun. “What?” he asked after a single second. “What is it? I know that fox's smile.”

    The golden eyes gleamed.

    “What?!”

    “No, I can't-” she began to protest.

    “Princess!” he grabbed her shoulder and snarled at her. “This is your heir we are talking about. The daughter you wanted. What does Veridian mean and what is going on?!”
    *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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