The First Step of Fate [Archive]

Corsana

08-15-08, 04:34 PM

(Closed for now. If you really want in, send me a pm.)

This is where it all begins, Corsana thought, a note of wonder lilting her inner voice. She looked around the tavern with gleaming blue eyes, drinking in the glow of looming adventures and untold destinies. The whole room seemed to vibrate with an energy – it radiated off the staff, the patrons, the ale, even off of Corsana herself. This, right here, was the first step in her journey. She was finally on the road to unlocking her secret fate, to discovering her true path. In this golden tavern, with these wondrous people, she would begin her story. Destiny was -

“Are you gonna stand there all day? You’re blocking the door.” A large patron with a peculiar configuration of facial hair and an even more peculiar bodily odor loomed over Corsana. She jolted back to reality, and then she jolted back a step. Muttering a breathy apology and ducking her head to hide the blush rising to her fair, freckled cheeks, Corsana made straight for the nearest empty table.

Still, dull reality could not completely quench the rosy glow her gaze cast over everything in the room. Carefully, she placed her sword and pack on the table in front of her and fished out a few coins, a sharp bone needle, and a roll of heavy thread. She’d order some ale, she thought, then get about mending the rip in her tunic.

And then she would wait for destiny to guide her next step. She could only hope that fates were kind and that her story included a warm bed and a solid night’s rest.

Ataraxis

08-16-08, 03:36 PM

Hullo there! This sounded fun, so I thought I'd jump in!
“Forget it lass, you’re destined to fail.”

That mean streak of cynicism was nothing new to innkeeper Hal and his wide panel of idiosyncrasies, yet it never failed to annoy the girl like a well-aimed spanner in the works. And why had she even bothered to share her day's plans with the portly old man? The only things he seemed to care about were how creased his forehead might get, what with is constant frowning, or how sparkly the mug that was glued to his hands could possibly become. Whatever the answer, Lillian had been made excessively cantankerous by his lack of faith, and thus did the teenager choose to call him on his obsessive polishing out of pure spite and without a single scruple. “It’s a compulsion, Hal – pretty soon you’re going to scrub a hole into the glass, and what will you do then?”

“Well ain’t she lippy today?” he grunted, gaveling the mug on the counter and tossing the rag on top. “Little doll says out of the blue that she’ll set off into the forest, lookin’ on a whim for a bunch o’ those blasted Jalian Spidermen when she’s barely knee-high to a grasshopper! And now she’s got the gall to call me compulsive?”

“N’Jalian Spidermagi, Hal. And yes, I do.” With a glare that would have made a devil wet his frocks, he silently poured cranberry juice into the teenager’s porcelain cup. Yet, there was no grin more triumphant than the one now tugging at her lips. In the few days she had lodged at the Peaceful Promenade, Lillian had discovered a host of buttons she could push beneath the stout codger’s seemingly stoic expression, and with the right combination, she knew she could trigger a cataclysm, the likes of which no tavern patron had ever witnessed. The temptation was killing her.

“Still,” she went on to break the silence, deciding that enough oil had been thrown on the fire, “thanks for your concern. I really do appreciate it.” At that, the barkeep could muster nothing more than a grunt before turning away and attending a legion of waspish clients. Amusedly, she watched him pour ale in a row of mugs blind-eyed and simultaneously tell off a man for dragging a cloud of dust into the inn.

“Destined, he says…” Lillian pondered that word and its underlying significance. “If that’s so, then destiny is hardly being fair.” Unmindfully, she tossed down her drink in a single swig, then started as she made out a foreign flavor... slightly bitter, slightly burning. “Damn it Hal, you spiked my drink!”

“And you’re an out-and-out teetotaler. Therefore, as the only responsible adult ‘round here, I can’t just let you wander out now, can I?” The innkeeper’s laugh was uproarious, and he was clearly milking his moment of victory to its final, sweetest drop. “Too bad for your field trip, lass.”

Lillian sulked, pushing away the cup in disdain. “Oh no,” the girl pouted miserably, “she’s never fair.”

Corsana

08-17-08, 07:13 PM

Brows wrinkling in concentration, Corsana wet the end of her thread between her lips. She held it and the needle up toward the nearest source of light, a crude wooden chandelier suspended from the rafters. Slowly, slowly, she lined up the coarse black thread with the narrow eye of the needle. Slowly, slowly, she moved the two together until, finally, the needle was threaded. A satisfied smile on her lips, she set it down carefully on the table.

The room was bustling, now, even more so than before, and it took several moments before Corsana was able to catch a barmaid’s attention. Carrying three pints of ale, the woman wound through the tables toward Corsana. Her hair was pulled back loosely from her face and she looked far less harried than expected, given the liveliness of the tavern. Still, a few lines still crinkled her forehead. “What would you like, doll?”

Corsana straightened her shoulders a bit. She realized that she didn’t look the part of a grizzled warrior, but was she really a “doll?” Her sword was in plain view and she was still wearing her breastplate. Granted, the leather of her scabbard was frayed along the top and her armor hung a bit loose from the shoulders. Her boots, though, were sturdy and well-kept, exactly like those she’d seen on the few adventurers who’d meandered through her home village.

“An ale, please,” Corsana said, straightening her lips into a serious non-smile. “And a loaf of bread.”

The barmaid raised an eyebrow, but nodded. She headed off in the direction of the kitchen, placing down mugs and picking up coins as she went. Corsana watched her, then, after she’d disappeared to place the order, turned her attention to the other patrons. Most of them seemed to be adventurers like Corsana . . . though perhaps they were a bit more experienced than she. Or, at the very least, they’d been able to get their hands on some well-fitted armor.

A few of them, though, looked like simple passersby – no armor, no weapons, no visible scars.

Even fewer were impossible to categorize. Like that girl with the black hair, up by the bar. Corsana watched her talk to the barkeep then down her drink in a single long swig. Something about it must have made her angry, because she started to yell, then sulk. Strange indeed.

Ataraxis

08-18-08, 12:37 AM

The lure of inebriation was a beast far worse than any sung in folklore, she knew - and though a valuable truth, the poor girl had come to learn it far too early and at too great an expense. Intemperance was as sweet as a paramour and as dangerous as a mistress, but no matter which guise it took, it never, never ceased to compel. Be they common men or the very heroes from those epic ballads, none were immune: many, oh how many had succumbed to the wiles of alcohol and, shortly thereafter, to her fangs as well. Of their fates she had heard, and from their fates she had learned. Heroism did not exalt a man in any manner but his title, no spectacular feat could undo a life of misdeeds… and vice was an infection that ever thrived under healed skin. Truths, one and all, that had cost Lillian her innocence.

Perhaps that was why she feared the taste of wine. Why she feared its forbidding smell, its color of debauch. Behind this thickening haze of false well-being, she was aflame in indignation for being forced onto this crooked path. Intoxication was the invitation of failure, was the fissure in the dam that, if left unattended, would someday drown her in world. The threat of moral ruin was staying her hand from her nigh-empty cup; the girl was so light that a single drop of the cranberry liquor could push her over the edge. Twice before had a wineglass so tempted her, and twice before had she endangered her life and that of those around her with an impetuous sip.

Thus did experience and force of will drive her to slip from the bar stool and totter away. Though still able to walk in a straight line, she felt that her motions were far too deliberate, as if she was dragging her limbs not through air but lukewarm water. Stranger was how she felt her mind breathe through nascent pores in her skull. ‘Gods, a single cup. Diluted.’ Despite that, she could manage. That is, until her knee struck the edge of a trestle table and she toppled over, biting her lip. Somehow, she managed to protect her dignity by drawing back a chair and plopping onto its seat in the same motion, therefore disguising the mishap into a deliberate act. Never mind that the table was already occupied by a very confused stranger.

In no way confident that she could answer without looking like a fool, Lillian chose to knit her mouth shut. Obviously, the woman on the other end of the table was struck silent by a moment that not doubt seemed surreal. When time stretched to painful lengths, the teenager’s eyes flitted everywhere, from her tablemate’s blonde hair to her overlarge leather breastplate, then passed over the sheathed sword to fixate a threaded needle set upon the coarse wood. Suddenly, her bowed lips parted, and she spoke. “I could help you with that. I have… some skill with threads and needlework.”

How odd. Her words were nowhere near slurred, and she had not spoken any nonsense. Better yet, she had told the truth. “Oh.” Awkwardly, she extended a hand across the table. “I’m Lillian.”

Terminus Mortis

08-18-08, 04:10 PM

The sun was setting, marking the sky with the brilliant golds, pinks, reds, and purples of the clouds. Stars were just becoming visible high above as Sean wandered back into town. After the bloody massacre outside of Scara Brae he had decided to return to the only other place he had visited so far, where his journey had begun. The hike had taken him a whole day's light, as he had stopped at a small river along the way to wash the blood from his hands and his clothes and to rebandage the small gash on his left forearm.

As he opened the door to the tavern he noticed that the wound had once more soaked through the bandage. He shook his head as he walked towards the bar. I'm going to have to sew the wound closed, he though resentfully. He leaned against the rough wooden bar, not even bothering to sit down. He waved the bartender over and ordered two shots of vodka. He took a long look around while his drinks were being poured, noting the patrons who were here when he left and classifying any new faces as either not a likely threat or possibly hostile. A few heads turned his way, but their looks only lasted long enough for them to form opinions about the new stranger with the funny gear.

Sean drew in a ragged breath as he stood up, taking the pressure of his weight off of his wounded arm. He grabbed his two shots and took one last look around. His eyes lit up when he spotted two women sitting at a table away from the bar. One held a sewing needle and thread. Oh please, God, let them be kind enough to loan me some thread... he thought as he slowly walked towards their table, careful not to spill the vodka as he wove his way through the afternoon crowd. "Excuse me," he started, setting his drinks on the table and taking an empty seat. "I'm really sorry about this, I hate to take up your time, but..." He held out his arm palm up and unwrapped the bloody bandage, revealing a somewhat ugly knife wound. "I don't suppose I could avail you of your work with that needle? This has been bleeding for most of the day now, and I walked here from Scara Brae, and I'm kind of starting to feel lightheaded." His eyes shot from the woman holding the needle to the girl across from him who, he decided, looked just a bit shit-faced.

He downed his shot of vodka without waiting for an answer, then laid his bandana underneath his arm on the table so as not to seep blood into the wood. He took the second shot and carefully poured it over the wound, clenching his jaw hard as his eyes began to water. "That's some strong rotka." He joked through clenched teeth as he wiped the affected area relatively clean. "And I'm sorry if I interrupted anything. I'm Sean, Sean McClintock. I'm a Captain in the... Marine Corps." He though for a moment before leaving out the 'United States', deciding that obviously no one here would have heard of it.

wizardmon599

08-19-08, 01:51 PM

Livane let out a long, depressed sigh as she walked though the seemingly dead darkness with only a small flame in her palm as her guiding light.
I can't keep walking all night. Either my mana will run dry, or I'll collapse from lack of sleep. But I can't exactly ask to stay anywhere, since I haven't seen a building for miles... Could I even ask if I found someone? She shook her head in disgust.

As she lifted her head up from the winding road, she noticed an almost blinding amount of yellow glows in the shapes of windows and doors. A feeling of terrible relief swept over her entire body as she speeded up her drudging pace of walk. The new breeze from her near-jog extinguished her small flame just as she reached the expanse of glow from the many lights, but that allowed her to hike her skirt up with both hands and run to the very first building she saw.....a tavern. To her dismay, the dwarvish doorman noticed her eyes and waved her over.

"You, over there. Elf. Ye certainly look a bit tired, yeah. Why doncha come in fer a sit?" She didn't notice him coming closer until his seemingly giant hand clasped around her small wrist. "We don't get many 'o yer kind up this way. And we're the only tavern this side 'o the mountains!" He let out a hearty laugh and led her to the door. Certainly, he'd mistaken her for an elf with money to spend, and though she was the complete opposite she didn't have time to disagree with him. Before she knew it, she was before a large crowd of people laughing, drinking, and worst of all--talking!

She began to frantically look around as she stood like an idiot, drawing a little attention with her fearfully darting eyes. Finally, with a few people still staring at her, she managed to stumble to an empty chair and assume a little bit of elvish dignity. She'd assumed from the dwarf's words that she would not see any other elves around, particulary any that she knew, but she didn't even bother to check.

One person caught her eye, a man with a deep knife wound. It looked a little swollen, the sign of a minor infection... It would be simple to get rid of as long as he didn't just leave it alone. She was still studying it as a waitress that she didn't notice walked over. The woman cleared her throat once when the elf didn't immediately look at her. Finally, as a sign of annoyance, she placed her hand on the table right in front of Livane, who perked up and stared at her in a state of blank surprise.

"What can I get you?" Even her voice sounded annoyed.

Livane let out a nervous chuckle. "I-I'm sorry...! I guess I didn't see you there!"

The waitress continued to wait.

With another sigh, Livane slumped over the table again and plopped her head into the safe comfort of her hand. "Just give me the strongest stuff you've got..." She shook her head in disgust at herself again as the waitress turned to walk away, then went back to studying the man's wound.

Susquehanna

08-19-08, 03:43 PM

Keeping her head down and her mouth shut, Hanna stalked through the bottleneck at the door and slid into the bar, containing her satchel and casting a glance behind her. Peaceful Promenade, her tail. If this den of idiots was peaceful, then she hated to see what this land considered raucous. The Luperci moved to one side, getting out of other patrons' way and observing the nearest people. Two ladies were sitting together at a table to her left, and another with pointy ears sat a little ways from them. Up at the bar was a young man, brown furred, yet.. different. She realized that these were humans, the likes of which she'd not seen before. They all were pink as newborn mice, with a tassel of fur atop their rounded heads. Her brows knitted together as she tried to choose who to approach first.

She studied the man's back. He wore clothing like hers, which didn't surprise her. He carried weapons, again, not a surprise; her own knives were fastened at her waist. The more she studied him, she realized that something was wrong with him. He poured some drink on his arm and cringed. She could smell the metallic tang of blood and looked again. Sure enough, his arm was bleeding. She approached him, one hand trailing to her knife, in case he were vicious.

"Sir, I cannot help but see you're hurt. May I help? My name's Hanna, I'm a medic."

Corsana

08-19-08, 08:18 PM

(OOC: I'm going to close the thread to new players now. If you really want to get in on our action, please send me a pm.)

Granted, Corsana had never spent much time in taverns. Still, she realized that a complete stranger wobbling across the room and dropping herself into a chair at an occupied table was something other than the norm.

For a moment, she and the stranger stared at each other in confused silence. Corsana, for her part, was awaiting some kind of cue, because she sure couldn’t think of anything to say. She wanted to meet some adventurers, sure, but she didn’t even know if this stranger was one. And, to be honest, she hadn’t really considered exactly how she’d go about initiating those conversations. Excuse me, have you ever been on a quest? sounded horribly naive, even to her own inexperienced ears.

Finally, just as the silence was becoming unbearable, the other woman spoke. Corsana, relieved that the woman adhered to at least a few social norms, smiled politely at the introduction. “A pleasure to meet you, Lillian. I’m Corsana.” Though Lillian’s eyes were a bit unfocused and her expression a bit slack, she seemed sober enough to carry on a conversation.

“Thanks for your offer,” Corsana continued, picking up her needle and thread, “but I can manage. My mother’s an embroider, and I’ve gleaned a thing or two from her. Besides, I just need to stitch up this small rip.” She held up the hem of the tunic she was wearing and wiggled her finger through a small hole before releasing it. “I caught myself on low branch,” she admitted, feeling the heat of a blush warm her cheeks. Real adventurers probably never caught themselves on branches, she thought. Or, at the least, they never admitted to it.

Before she explain, though, that the branch had been especially low and stiff and that she’d been concentrating on finding her way back to the main path when it happened, and had thus been a bit preoccupied, another stranger sat himself at her table.

This one, however, was definitely an adventurer. Corsana could tell by the very way he moved with such purpose. Also, his clothing was peculiar and he was bleeding from the hand.

A thrill of excitement shivered down Corsana’s spine and her cheeks, again, grew red. Her freckles probably looked like a blotchy rash by now, but she couldn’t bring herself to truly care. Here, this was a man who knew his destiny, who embraced his fate. Perhaps he could help Corsana to know and embrace her own?

When he asked her for help, she nearly dropped her needle. And when he gulped the shot of alcohol and introduced himself, a thousand questions popped into her mind. What do you do? Where are you from? Did you earn your wound in a fight? Were you victorious? Where are you going? May I come?

Before she could voice any of these or even offer her meager healing salve and skill with bandages, though, the strangest stranger yet made her presence known. Corsana listened to her offer, and then added, “You are welcome to my thread. I also have some fresh bandages and a healing salve. It won’t do wonders, but it might help a bit.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small glass tub of light green cream and a stack of clean linen strips.

wizardmon599

08-19-08, 08:59 PM

What a lucky guy he is, surrounded by beautiful ladies willing to take care of his wounds. And here, I thought I may have been of a little use to someone, but I'm too late, just like always. Livane continued to stare at the odd-looking group of four. The idea of meeting new people both excited and terrified her, but staring at the group made her feel what seemed to be a small sting of longing--or so she assumed.

Yet again, Livane did not notice the waitress' approach as she sat the elf's drink down and left. When she finally picked up the smell of the heavy alcohol, Livane turned her head to the nearly-overflowing mug and rubbed her temple in frustration. Not only was she unable to socialize, she was unable to even take a sip of the beverage that SHE had ordered.
Gods... This day wasn't good, and now its night is turning out even worse. I wish I could make this better. I want to stop complaining and enjoy listening to everyone having a good time, even if I can't have one myself.

She turned back to the group she'd been studying before. Still talking, though it seemed a little uneasy. Livane slowly glanced around to other places, when she suddenly realized a rather cold fact. She was the only one sitting alone. Usually, optimism was on her side, but tonight it chose to shove her into winter without a jacket. The memories of the days in her village were pulled back from the depths of her mind. She'd been such a bright child, up until the war that overtook her once dignified people. Such a sad thing, it was--- any elf from her homeland could thrust a sword through an opponent's heart while laughing and leading an army behind them, but the only voice she ever used was the one in her head. So full, so confident, yet such a belittling thing.

She let out another dreary sigh as she straightened her posture and looked at the strange-smelling mug on her table. I have to think of the bright things. At least no one is talking to me, so I don't have to feel so timid! She smiled to herself as she thought of other things. I have a drink if I'm...thirsty. This time, she even snickered a little. It smelled like a mix of every alcohol she'd ever heard of. And none of these crazy drunks are-- She felt a hand on her shoulder.

She didn't know what to do. She knew no one in here, therefore, the hand was someone she'd never seen or spoken to. Which meant he was a stranger. But strangers usually don't just come up and place their hands on even stranger people. Which probably meant he was--

"Heeeeey, shweetheart!" The man swung around to face her with his hand still on her shoulder. Livane studied his face in shock and found he was rather handsome in an idiotic sort of way. "Whadaya shay we go upstairs?!" He pointed to a set of stairs she hadn't noticed before and winked in an odd sort of way.

She was unable to speak. Even though her mouth was open, words refused to come out.

"Yer sho quiet! I bet I can get you louder!" His smile didn't look very pleasant, and it seemed to be growing closer to her face with every minute. She unconsiously attempted to draw back from him, but he forced her closer She turned away, still completely horrified, but he just took a strong hand and turned her head back. His large, human hand clasped tightly around her lower jaw... Her eyes went wide with fear as she tried to pull away and couldn't.She did the only thing her frantic mind didn't have to think of.

In a swift, nontraceable motion her hands moved to the man's face and clasped over it.
He stopped abruptly in a stupid wonder. She released the mana that was channeling through her fingers... "G-Get away from me!!"

The man was blasted head-over-heels into the table in front of Livane's, cursing and yelling until he hit the ground hard on his back and fell silent. She frantically stood up to run, but could find no where to go to elude the stunned stares from every set of eyes in the tavern.

For someone who doesn't like attention, you sure know to draw it, the voice of the 0.5 percent of her mind that was calm echoed in her head.

Susquehanna

08-20-08, 06:17 PM

Hanna accepted the salve from her new companion, removing the lid and inhaling deeply. It smelled right; the right quantities of the right ingredients to get the job done. Even though she'd brought her supplies with her, this equipment would come in handy. A finger, with the claw retracted, dipped into the jar, and came up with a glob of salve on it. This she smeared over the wound, then, without using that finger, withdrew from her own satchel a thick strand of sinew, her own needle, and a packet of comfrey herbs that, mashed and mixed with water, would numb the area. She looked around and, finally spotting a waitress, ordered some water in a bowl. She withdrew a ceramic mortar and pestle from her pack, tossed in a couple leaves, then ground them, adding a small amount of water.

When a paste had formed, Hanna used a different finger to spread it around the edges of the wound, where she'd be stitching. She began to sit back to let it work its magic, but just as she did.. CRASH! And a man landed on the table behind her. The lady with pointy ears was standing up, and looking around frantically like a buck when he knows he is about to be caught. Glancing around, the Luperci noticed how quiet the room had become and sought to remedy it. She peered over at the drunk and now unconscious man and applauded the elf, saying, "Good on ya, lass, I'd've done the same in your shoes!"

wizardmon599

08-20-08, 09:11 PM

At last the horrid silence was broken, though Livane could do nothing to help herself out of the sea of whispers and strange glances. Have to calm down... Have to calm down... I HAVE to calm down. She began to feel a tight burning sensation in her chest, yet her mind contined to race through what had happened and ignore her body's pleas.

Finally---as if her body was taking controll of itself---her shoulders relaxed, her frantic eyes grew a little more composed, and she heavily released her held breath (though it sounded a little labored.)

Her arms fell to her sides as she looked over the damage she'd caused.
"Heh." Her anxious laugh sounded like small mouse squeak in her now-more-collected mind. "I-I-I'm sorry, everyone. F-For the damage, I mean..." With every word her voice grew a little softer as her last bit of confidence slowly slipped away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. She couldn't bring herself to look at anyone--not even the woman who'd tried to draw her out of the crowd.

At first it just sounded like two hands clapping, but Livane's elven ears soon picked up four...six...eight...ten... Soon there were too many pairs of hands to count.She slowly drew her apprehensive eyes from the floor and glanced around every visible seating arrangement, expecting harsh judgement of some kind. She saw many hands moving at once, some strange hand signs involving thumbs from humans, and even some smiling faces. All the noise made her ears twitch.

At last, a discreet smile spread across her oddly warm cheeks, though she didn't notice because of her immediate surprise. She located the woman that saved her from complete humiliation.It seemed everyone had turned back to her drinks, so Livane mustered enough courage to slip through the crowd and over to her.

She took a deep breath and used all of the confidence she'd built up in the last minute to speak. "I...really have to thank you for saving me. I couldn't do anything." Though she couldn't look at the woman while she spoke, Livane hoped she could hear her gratitude.

Terminus Mortis

08-20-08, 09:17 PM

"Thank you, it'd be much appreciated!" Sean smiled painfully as he wiped more blood from the wound. He eyed the strange salve somewhat suspiciously at first, but let out a sigh of relief as it was applied and the pain relaxed. He took another cursory glance around the tavern as they waited for the odd gel to take hold. His eyes caught on an obviously drunk patron approaching a girl sitting alone a few tables away. His right hand twitched a little bit, moving closer to his knife; he could smell a fight brewing even before the man laid a hand on the loner.

He jumped to his feet quickly as the man drew closer in and the girl let out a yelp, ripping his knife from the sheath slung over his shoulder. He was about to shout something when the girl slapped a hand over the drunkard's face, sending him flying backwards into a table. He stared in amazement for a moment until he heard the medic next to him shout her approval. He shot her an amused smile, then nodded approvingly to the rather distraught looking girl who, surprisingly enough, approached their table. She stood there for a moment after expressing her gratitude, and Sean took her hand lightly and guided her into his chair. "Seems like you've had a hard day, Miss." He smiled gently. "Why don't you take a seat? I'll be back in a moment." He stepped towards the now semi-conscious drunkard, examining him quickly for any wounds and deciding he was fine. He shot a glance at the bartender and grumbled, "I'll take care of what's left of this bastard," before throwing an arm around his neck and hauling him towards the door. He tossed the man out into the now dark street with little effort and returned to their table.

He crouched down next to the new girl and placed his arm gingerly back onto the bandana he had laid down. He patted the new girl on the shoulder reassuringly before addressing the medic. "Well then, might as well sew this up now so I can start making blood again," he joked lightly.

Ataraxis

08-21-08, 11:39 AM

Lillian had wanted to scream at the happenstance – in glee, of course. Corsana’s mother had been an embroiderer as hers had been a seamstress. She wondered if the woman’s father had been a blacksmith as well, or if she had also lived in a hovel in the desert. The girl was positively gleaming as her assumptions became more and more farfetched, until she remembered to keep her poise. Either way, the librarian was finding a host of common interests with her new acquaintance, something that, despite her numerous travels, had rarely ever occurred.

Before she could give voice to the flurry of emotions in her little chest, however, a man had come to their table, seeking for a steady hand to stitch the gash in his arm, or at least some thread and a needle to do it himself. Lillian was about to offer him a simple healing when another stranger came in tow. From here on, her wine-addled mind could no longer keep track of the events, though she was jolted back into consciousness by the break of a table and the clangor of pewter.

That had sobered her enough. They were now five at the table, a motley assortment of humans, an elf and a being clad in furs – no, a furry person, rather. “Such a bizarre tavern tryst,” she murmured, out loud and unbeknownst to her. Just like in the adventures of old, the tales where an unlikely assortment of men and women met in these yellow pubs to plan their quests and conquests. In that moment, she felt her youthful innocence return. “We might as well be setting out on an adventure right now,” she said, partly in jest as she chuckled lightly.

In an effort to catch up, she gave a nod of acknowledgment to Hanna and the elven woman, then met the eyes of the first to have come. “Well met, mister McClintock. Oh, and if you are concerned about your blood, then… may I?” After asking for Corsana’s permission, she plucked the bone needle from the table, paying no mind to the roll of thread. She thumbed its eye and a wispy strand of black unfurled from it. Lillian performed a simple interrupted stitch on the man’s forearm, the needle flitting effortlessly through the lips of the gash until it was firmly shut, yet still allowing for flexibility of movement.

The thread then seemed to blur, thin vapors dancing as they rose. There had been sorcery in the suture; before their very eyes, the skin was healing. “Your body will absorb the thread when the muscle and skin are fully knit – the process should not take more than an hour or two. Quite lucky miss Corsana had that salve to help you through the process.”

wizardmon599

08-21-08, 01:50 PM

When the man had first taken her hand and started to lead her, she was fidgity.
Afterall, it was something that didn't happen often, especially not when her people were taken into account. Most elves got along fine with almost all races, but her kin hated humans. They hated dwarves as well. Their list of enemies was infinate and growing, much like the stars in the heavens. If any of them witnessed a human with an elf of any kind, her entire homeland would go on a murder spree to make themselves feel their cause was just. Livane herself had never had a problem with any of her so-called "enemies," and the more she watched them, the more she liked them and enjoyed their company on occasion.
People so sweet probably couldn't even THINK of viciously murdering my family... I just wish everyone could see this man. Humans like him are the reason I'm out here doing what I do: Healing the sick, and helping the wounded of ANY race. It's just not fair for everyone to have such closed minds that killing overpowers trying to rebuild the home that we had... Someday, I hope everyone will listen and learn to forget those silly grudges that they cling to like they are the Afterlife.

When he lead her to his seat, she was somewhat hesitant to take it, but he seemed to insist, so she sat. She was not sure if he could see, but she had a true smile on her face for the first time in a while. It felt good to be out of the spotlight and blending into a crowd. She would have melted into the wall if she could have.

Livane watched the man and the medics converse and joke for what seemed like a long time, though her mind rationalized that it had only been a moment or two. She wanted to speak to them, though she could not find the right words to say.

After much thought, she tentatively decided how to further express her gratitude...
Maybe it would be easier from then? Only time and a trial would tell.
"I--um...Th-Thank you for the seat." She closed her eyes tightly and turned her face to the floor as her smile faded. Had anyone even heard her? Probably a no.

Stupid. That was stupid. Stupid, dumb, idiotic, moronic...
Words for her failure circled through her mind as she cursed herself for saying anything at all.

Silence is what you do, Livane. Her mind continued to scrutinize her with what her old village had always taught her. You CAN'T talk, because you're not supposed to. You let the warrior do the work. You're a mage, afteralll. Try getting in the front lines of anything and you'll either be killed or injured beyond cure. Leave the stories for the ones who have stories to tell. She thought it best to listen to the voice for now and watch, brooding in her silence, as the woman in black stitched the man's wound.

Terminus Mortis

08-21-08, 02:41 PM

Sean watched in amazement as the thread formed within the eye of the needle, materializing in thin air. He barely winced as it was wound through the open wound, pulling his skin tighter. He flexed his forearm slightly, feeling much better. Then he caught something odd; the thread was dissolving into his skin! He thought back to all the times before that he had been sewn up with dissolving sutures, but those had taken weeks and sometimes months. "Hours?" He said, bemused. "Amazing." He rolled his wrist, feeling the slight tug around the wound. He chuckled almost darkly. "Trust me, I've been sewn back up under worse conditions." Memories of Tehran flashed through his mind; the shrapnel above his eye, the gunshot wound in his left leg that had almost taken him home if he hadn't blatantly refused to leave his platoon, and the dirty makeshift aid station in the basement of a book store. His fingers unwittingly found the scar through his left eyebrow. They hadn't had anesthesia for any of it until they had evac'd him to a real aid station two days later.

He turned to the girl to whom he had given his seat and placed a hand on her arm lightly. "No problem. You looked like you could use something a little closer to the wall." He winked understandingly. "And, if you don't mind my saying so, what you did back there was pretty badass."

wizardmon599

08-21-08, 04:13 PM

Her ears twitched and she looked up with a seemingly blank stare.
Badass... My magic has never been called that before! She smiled, feeling slightly more comfortable with her newfound company.
"Thank you, sir."

At last, she did not stutter!
"I am...very sorry for the trouble. But thank you again!" She was starting to adapt quite well, in her opinion. Maybe conversation was not as big of a battle as she thought.

Maybe I can learn to--what was it the humans said to me? "Open up...?" That was it. I hope I am able to learn. It seems they have a lot to teach. Finally, for once, what she had been taught to be true was wrong. Just because I am a mage, it doesn't mean I have to follow a fighter everywhere. I've made my own way for so long I can hardly remember! I've fought hard, helped many, and made friends that I'll keep for life. It will take time, but I will forget the only thing my people ever taught me to remember. And I will start now.

She took a deep breath.
"...My name is Livane."
She was talking to no one in particular, but she was still talking, and that was definately a start. She had a nagging feeling that her company found her a little odd, though that could not be helped unless they were actually given the opportunity to know her, and she them.

Terminus Mortis

08-21-08, 04:58 PM

Sean waved his hand nonchalantly. "Please, in my line of work it's not even an inconvenience until a building explodes. Losing a table's like your shoelace coming untied." He held out a hand. "I'm Sean, Sean McClintock." She seems to be alright, he thought. I wonder how she did that? He smiled inwardly. Ah, what the hell. This whole place is weird. He felt the stitches in his forearm with his fingertips. They were smooth as silk thread and the skin was already starting to heal. Feels weird just being here. I've had this sort of tingling sensation since I came to in that field. Now magic sutures and people from goddamn fiction novels. Hm, I kinda like it here.

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Now that his wound was taken care of and there was no urgency he was getting introspective again, not a good thing now that he had sat down with four strangers who had been kind enough not to refuse him aid. He put his glasses back on and grinned. "I suppose introductions are in order again, eh?"

Susquehanna

08-21-08, 07:20 PM

Her mouth working slowly, Hanna could but watch in amazement while the lady stitched up the man, the man led the pointy-eared woman over, and the wounds.. magically disappear. Her eyes rose from the vicinity of the table, and she tried to lock eyes with any around her. She didn't really succeed before the man grinned and suggested introductions.

"A grand idea. As I mentioned before, my name is Hanna. I hail from a far-away land that has never really had a name; nor can I tell you where it is." Oh, how mysterious she was. "I am what is known as a Luperci, plural Lupercali. I shift forms, three in total, and I heal. I also tattoo, and can pierce, if someone wanted me to."

Corsana

08-22-08, 10:46 AM

This evening was getting stranger by the moment. There were now five people . . . or creatures . . . crowded around her little table like a litter of puppies around a food dish, and not one of them had made an ordinary entrance. Not that Corsana was complaining, of course. The whole thing was thrilling, especially that table being smashed.

Now, though, things seemed to have calmed down a bit. There was barely room to move around the table, but she could still hear everyone over the ambient tavern noise. She moved her satchel and sword off the table, making more room for drinks, and laid them carefully next to her chair.

Corsana watched as Lillian finished stitching the wounded man's arm and as the thread, subsequently and rapidly, began to disintegrate. The thread was nothing special, so it had to be Lillian's own magic that sped the healing. Corsana cast her a smile and said, with genuine enthusiasm, “That's fantastic. I'd love to learn how to do that.” She wondered if Lillian had always been able to or if someone had taught her.

Before she had a chance to ask, though, Lillian finished stitching and the man proposed a new round of introductions. Corsana beamed. This was proving to be much more interesting than she'd expected.

“I'm Corsana,” she said, when the spotlight turned to her. “I left my village a few days ago, and I'm on my way to Scara Brae . . . I think.” She laughed a little self-consciously. “Actually, I haven't really decided where I'm headed yet. I was hoping to come here and figure it out.” Perhaps, she thought, someone here will give me a clue as to where I should travel.

Ataraxis

08-22-08, 02:26 PM

“Oh, well, um...” Corsana was so enthusiastic, Lillian did not know what to say. Healers might not be found at every street corner, but they were not so scarce that their talents were amazing to the common folk, let alone miraculous. That someone could find interest in one of Lillian’s quirks had been unexpected. It made her giddy to the point of being scatterbrained, much to her shame. “I-It’s really nothing extraordinary. Now, flinging fireballs and thunderbolts: that would be much more exciting!”

As a child, that had been her dearest wish. When she dreamed of adventures, she was always the enigmatic sorcerer, the weaver of arcane spells so powerful they could rain inordinate doom upon one and all – she was not the healer. No one ever enjoyed being the healer. Granted, Lillian was more mature now, and so this troubled her less, but she still let out a melancholy sigh right before Corsana reintroduced herself, taking McClintock’s suggestion.

Listening to the woman's story had somehow restored a thimble of her morale. “Scara Brae, you say? You will need to travel east toward the port city of Jadet, where you can find a number of outgoing ferries to the island.” It was a trip that would take no more than five days on a good gelding, while the ferry ride would take three at most. She could make good headway by leaving at the break of dawn. Suddenly, she despised the idea. With her hands hanging shyly to the edge of the table, she addressed Corsana again. “Though... it would be a pity for you to leave so soon. Corone does have its charms!”

All eyes were turned on her now, and it was a moment before she realized they were waiting for her introduction. “I’m Lillian,” she blurted, timidly rubbed her forearm. Nervous eyes flitted over the faces of her company. “It’s not much of a story, really. I was born in Fallien, but I had to… leave under certain circumstances. I came to Corone and I’ve been here and back since. Scara Brae had been my home for a short time, but I also sojourned in the elven lands and in Salvar, further to the north.

“Later on I spent some time with the Faes of Dheathain, visiting their ruins and the like. Oh, and it was wonderful! The civilization that preceded them were prodigious architects. Stucco walls that had both a symmetric plasticity and organically curvilinear shapes, all adorned in the most beautiful etchings and gemstones and crystals you could imagine–” Lillian’s mouth snapped shut, accidentally biting the tip of the tongue. Teary-eyed, she looked down, shamed by her sudden zeal. They were labeling her an eccentric right now, she was sure of it. “Pardon me. I often travel alone, and company can make me... excessive.”

The girl wanted to end this quickly, feeling more inadequate with each second under the spotlight. She had been so long-winded already. “I only want to see as much of the world as I can. Though, I do spend an unholy amount of time in libraries, since I enjoy researching the things I’ve experienced, and… that’s it.” She pursed her lips in that awkward smile people wear when they have nothing else to say.

The burden lifted from her heart, she sat back with a creak and looked away. She truly did prefer the scene of a tavern patron, picking his nose with a small fork at a nearby table, to the potential looks of dismay from the people sat at hers. At least, she did for the few seconds before feeling excessively sick – the man had finally dislodged the solid mucus, only to lick it off the silver tip.

wizardmon599

08-23-08, 08:00 PM

Livane looked with wide eyes to the young girl.
"That sounded beautiful! You are so lucky to be traveling the world so young! I was not even able to think of it at your age..." She hoped that she did not sound as stupid as she thought. The girl could obviously pass for someone older than what she really was, or at least the age Livane presumed she was, though she hoped that she was not wrong.

"And you..." She turned to face Corsana. "I hope you find your way soon." She turned forward again and gave the two women a small smile that she wasn't sure they noticed. "I do not know this place, but from what I've seen it is full of beauty and winding paths that need to be traveled by a real adventurer like you. I can see your thirst for excitment in your eyes." Livane heaved a deep sigh. This was the most she'd talked in a long while and although it felt good, it also felt strange to her.

She waited for a moment to see if anyone else wanted to speak, though the silence that followed was a little unnerving. Reluctantly, she took a deep breath. All right. This is no time to choke. Use the voice you dream of having someday.

"M-My name is Livane, and I am...from very far away. From a small village. I left my home--because my people were monsters who hungered only for murder. I-I wanted to see a world that didn't need gore to survive. A world that would not shed blood as payback for the past. I am merely a wanderer now...just a simple mage." She ran through her words in her mind, but still was not confident as to how they sounded. She'd recounted her journey to countless people, some in more and some in less detail, though she still found it rather odd-sounding even now.

I hope my story didn't take up too much of their time. I am really nothing special, but at least I am not a fighter's shadow.

Terminus Mortis

08-24-08, 10:07 PM

Sean's eyebrow shot up at fireballs and thunderbolts. "Well I'll be damned." He uttered, no more confused than when the conversation had begun. By the time the circle rolled back around to him he had just about decided that it really didn't matter what he told these people, they wouldn't understand a vast majority of it. Still, he opted to tell the truth, really just because by now he was too tired to spin a tale worth telling.

"Well," He leaned back, now sitting on top of his pack which placed the table at just about chest-level. "To begin, and I'm just going to get this out of the way now so please hold all questions until the end of the story, I have no idea where in all hell I am." He sighed and pulled his dogtag out from under his jacket. "I'm Captain Sean McClintock, and I'm with the United States Marine Corps. I'm an MOS 0351 primarily, assault and demolitions specialist, with 1st Force Recon Company, which falls under the jurisdiction of US Marine Special Operations Command. Back home they coined us gents of the SpecOps world Snake Eaters." He took a deep breath and smiled. "Well now, let's see. My friends call me Duke and I enjoy reading, moon-lit walks, and a nice long day at the shooting range." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, and I said I'd talk about the little papercut on my arm. The other day I walked out of here and decided to take a look around. I wandered down the road a ways and in the middle of the night I came upon a burning village. Being it is kind of my job and all I decided to step in and help the residents. Well I knifed a few... Orcs, I think they were, and once the area was secure I decided to haul ass out of there before questions were asked." He waved his arms. "And here I am once more! Now, any questions?"

Susquehanna

08-24-08, 10:46 PM

((See the link in my profile for info on killing themselves.))

Hanna's eyes grew ever larger at the stories they wound. Had she come through some... portal? The man spoke of the United States; her homeplace was in Canada, north of New York. Or, rather, what had been New York, before the humans got overzealous with their science and killed themselves. But if humans were dead.. how were these alive?

Realizing that eyes had turned to her again, she spoke, weaving her words into a lilting story. My full name is Susquehanna. I go by Hanna because so many people stumble over my name. I am from a land called Bleeding Souls, where the only people around are us Lupercali. Lupercali are either wolves or coyotes; I've never seen any other creature like us. We all possess the ability to shift from this, to a regular wolf, and to a halfling form, where we run on all four legs, but are bulky and strong.

The Luperci paused for breath, then continued, I enjoy learning, no matter whether it's from a book, or from hands on experience. In fact, she whistled a series of notes, dug in her bag for a glove as a mid-sized red-tailed hawk swooped through the window, to land on her upstretched forearm. In fact, hands-on experience is how I got Tobias, here. A toothy grin was given to the table at large at the stares she was getting from the entire pub. Apparently falconry was less popular than she'd thought.

Corsana

08-26-08, 11:14 PM

Corsana may have grown up in a village, but she’d heard more than a few Tales of Epic Proportions.

Still, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the worn tabletop. These stories weren’t like the ones her parents told. These weren’t sprawling histories or ethics-lessons in disguise. These were actual events that had happened to the actual people (and creatures) sitting around this actual table.

She liked Livane, though she couldn’t figure out why the elf was so shy. If what they’d seen earlier was any indication, she was no one to be disrespected and she obviously had a story to tell. Corsana tried to smile encouragingly as Livane spoke, hoping that she’d be able to set the elf at ease.

Then, of course, Captain Sean began to speak. What he said made little sense, but Corsana wasn’t even sure where to begin asking him questions. What was the United States Marine Corps? Spec Ops? What did that have to do with eating snakes?

Hanna’s story was slightly more normal, though Corsana wasn’t quite sure what to make of the strange woman . . . wolf . . . Luperci. She’d encountered a few shape shifters, and she’d always thought that her Uncle Malovi had some werecat blood in him, but she’d never heard it described as Hanna had just now described it. And that bird flying in through the window . . .

“Is he your familiar?” Corsana asked, nodding toward Tobias. “How did you find him? Or did he find you? I’ve heard that it works that way, sometimes. Of course I really don’t know that much about it – only what I’ve picked up by talking to a few people. No one in my family has a familiar, at least not that I know of. We don’t really focus on that type of magic. For us, it’s more along the lines of fortune-telling.” Corsana’s smile wavered then, and she dipped her head to hide it. A moment later, when she looked back up, her smile was in place.

Susquehanna

08-26-08, 11:44 PM

((I have to be very careful, lol, this is just now happening on Souls.))

Hanna smiled at Corsana's rapid-fire speech about Tobias. Yes, I suppose you could refer to him as my familiar. I found him while a beloved friend of mine escorted me to his pack's library. I didn't understand him at first, but that same friend taught me what is called Low Speech, which can be used to communicate with lesser creatures.

The opposite hand stroked the raptor, and the lady's gaze never left his intelligent brown gaze. He was hurt, when I found him. He had a broken wing. But with Pilot's help, I convinced him to let him help me. The rest was a bit obvious; the bird had become so smitten with Hanna, he stayed with her. At least, most of the time.

To left wing, Hah-nah? the bird requested, flexing the mentioned wing. And with an indulgent smile, and a garbled, Low Speech, Yes, dear heart, Hanna obliged his request.

wizardmon599

08-30-08, 09:14 AM

Livane gasped. "I have a familiar as well! We have been best friends for many years! Come here, my sweet." She felt nothing unnatural about reaching up her baggy sleeve for her sleeping friend, though it earned her a few more strange looks from the bar folks.
"Hureo, time to wake up." She stopped fidgiting for a moment and slowly began to pull her arm out of her other's sleeve.

The semi-long brown snake had scales that shined gold in the dim light of the bar.
He was an older snake, yet he still had the eyes and strength of a lurking predator.
"His name is Hureo," Livane mumbled, quietly beaming at her friend. She stroked the aggrivated snake as he stared blankly at the unusual crowd.

Terminus Mortis

08-30-08, 10:13 PM

((I'm going to add to this in an attempt to resuscitate this topic))

"Lupercali?" Sean muttered, his thoughts drifting back to his study of Latin. Lupus, Latin for wolf. Wait, Lupercus was the god of shepherds and Lupercalia was his festival. He focused on the wolf connection and decided there had to be more to it. "Wait, Hannah, what is the full name of your species, if you don't mind my asking?" He heard a strong flapping, and a brown wingtip whipped past his eye. He smiled at the bird now perched on Hannah's arm. "Hawking, now that's something you don't see every day."

His eyes lit up when he saw Livane draw a fairly large brown snake from her sleeve. "Hureo?" He smiled. "Snakes have always been a favorite of mine." His thoughts drifted back to Iran, where they had found a sand viper burrowed near the wall of the camp they had occupied outside of Tehran. "I had a sand viper once. Named him Stryker." The snake's scales gleamed golden in the firelight used to illuminate the tavern. "He's a beauty."

Sean's gaze drifted to the window for a moment. The sun had set, and moonlight filtered through the glass panes. It was an unusually clear night, considering it had rained earlier in the morning. His thoughts drifted back to the beautiful, hazy, deep blue pre-dawn of the Colombian jungle. The unorthodox surroundings in which he found himself were a constant reminder that, even though he was surrounded by other people, he was lost. He could only pray that his comrades had made it out alive. He snapped himself out of his revelry and returned to the current conversation.

He snatched his rifle off his pack and hefted it easily onto his lap. "Well, I don't have any traveling companions, but I do have this." He removed the magazine and locked the bolt open. "It's a Springfield Armory M1A SOCOM II .308 caliber carbine." He ran his finger over the chip in the extractor. "Since it seems you all know your way around this world rather well, I don't suppose anyone would know where I can get some precision metalworking done?"

Ataraxis

09-06-08, 09:38 PM

I apologize for the wait. Acclimatizing myself to college didn’t go as quickly as I would have wanted.

Lillian had required three blinks to dispel the veil of disbelief in her eyes. Fighting the urge to gawk, she looked at Sean as if he had just produced from his packs a doomsday device from eons past. The whole weapon was a matte dark-grey, a material that looked nothing like the brass and steel of Aleraran firearms. Its barrel was longer, its gunstock running parallel rather than perpendicular; its shapes were more complex, intricate and so finely designed she did not believe any contemporary tool could achieve its finish.

“How did you procure yourself something like that? Even the wealthiest Grafs of Alerar would kill to have this on display in their vast collections!” Lillian was stepping forward, blue eyes transfixed on this marvel of technology; she had not even remembered getting up. There was a compulsion, a pressing urge to take the device in her hands, to feel its coolness and weight. To dismantle it. To see how it worked.

“Wait, are you implying it is inoperative?” The compulsion vanished in a puff of clarity. Lillian had stopped her approach, startled to find herself so close to the man. “That is... quite a shame. The technology behind firearms always intrigued me, but they are so very rare and Aleraran engineers are understandingly not very open with their discoveries.” With a sigh, she slumped her shoulders, smiling meekly as she regarded Sean.

“There are many skilled metalworkers about, but you would quite likely find one more acquainted with this particular type of repair in Alerar. Still, I would advise against it, as the likeliness of having it stolen for research is uncanny.” Lillian pondered a moment, reviewing all the places she had been to for an alternative. “If you travel southwest to Radasanth, you might find the right man for the job in the Bazaar. If not, I hear that Salvar is teeming with resourceful people, when it comes to technology.”

“In fact, I will be heading toward Radasanth in a few days. After that, I considered taking a boat for the Tular Plains, but I would not mind accompanying you to Salvar as a guide – and, perhaps, as a healer. It might be that you have a knack for getting injured.” Lillian emphasized the jest with a light chuckle, tilting her head to the side questioningly as she awaited his answer. She had to admit, the prospect of not traveling alone for the first time in months did seem rather enticing.

Terminus Mortis

09-14-08, 06:39 PM

"I'm afraid so, the locking lugs are chipped so the cartridges won't seat properly when extracted from the magazine. Therefore, it jams as soon as a round is chambered." He flipped the levers on the quick detach mounts for the scope and bipod and handed the rifle to Lillian. "You seem to have some respect for firearms, take a look. Just don't fiddle with the ironsights." He took a quick peek through the scope at some of the labels on the bottles behind the bar. "I know my rifle better than I know myself, if someone wants a complete technical drawing of the M1A I could do one from memory."

He smiled at Lillian's proposition. Truth be told, being alone surrounded by other people had always grated on him. He could spend all the time he needed out in the field with no companion, but he was always uncomfortable not having anyone to watch his back in the city. "I would very much appreciate that. Oddly enough I tend to get into trouble at the most inopportune times." He added a bit of friendly sarcasm. "There always seems to be someone who has a problem with me. Blow up a few munitions depots and your uniform starts to take on a reputation."

Ataraxis

10-15-08, 08:43 PM

Lillian grasped the weapon with as much care as she could muster, almost fearing that the thing would discharge with the slightest of jerks. It felt sleek in her hands, though slightly coarser as she ran her fingers along the stock. Though it seemed on the surface that she was simply studying the carbine with wide-eyed wonderment, her mind was committing every dimension to memory, etching the shapes, the angles, the weight and the build onto the walls of her mind. The urge to dismantle it was strong, and though she knew she would be able to reassemble it without a mistake, she knew that Sean would rather she not take apart something so obviously precious to him. ‘I’ll have to make do with what I see – which should amply be enough.’

“She’s quite a beauty – oh, unless you… I just heard that men usually give their weapons of choice a woman’s name.” She smiled despite her embarrassment, wondering if she had struck a chord by accident. “Either way, you should keep such information to yourself. I don’t know the country you come from, but it seems far more advanced than any of the main powers I know of. If any of them got their hands on such technical drawings, it would upset the balance of power, and sooner rather than later. No doubt that this isn’t the only sophisticated device you own or know about, either.”

Carefully, almost reluctantly, she handed the carbine back to Sean, then tiptoed back to her seat with an air of obvious glee. Even though she had not seen its inner workings, she could guess them by induction of what she had already seen, and applying physics and what she knew of ballistics would take care of the smaller kinks. Within months, she might even be able to produce a functioning prototype. ‘I wonder how Pascal will react, once I show him completed blueprints. Jealousy because I figured it out before him, maybe?’ Pascal, as well as the rest of her team of scholars, were prone to these childish sentiments of competition, mostly due to the fact that they were time and again upstaged by a librarian at least half their age. Still, it was more of a friendly annoyance than actual spite. ‘But I’m digressing, aren’t I?’

At Sean’s quip on gaining notoriety, she couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m all too familiar with that effect – yes, I know: dumbfounding, isn’t it?” While she let him wonder just what she meant, Lillian turned to the elven woman, suddenly feeling quite guilty for having monopolized the conversation. Moreover, she realized that she hadn’t actually spoken a word to the mage, beyond the introductions. “And what about you, Livane? What are your plans beyond this night? If nothing is set in stone, perhaps you would like to come along? Your skills may come in handy, and as cliché as it may sound, the more is still the merrier.”

Terminus Mortis

12-18-08, 04:36 PM

Ataraxis and I decided to wrap up this topic, but since we've lost a few people we're going to have to do it with just the two of us. This'll be the first topic I finish on Althanas and it started how many months ago now?

"Hmm..." Sean thought about Lillian's notion of naming his rifle. "To be honest I never thought about it." He lifted the carbine by the pistol grip with one hand and reattached the scope and folded bipod. Thinking back to his days in the School of Infantry and the School of Special Warfare he recalled many recruits naming their issued rifles before they were shipped off to their active duty companies.

"Many of the soldiers, Marines, and SEALs I knew did name their weapons." He slapped the magazine back into the well and placed the fully extended stock of the rifle on the floor, still holding onto it by the barrel. "I never even thought about it, though." The cold touch of the steel muzzle slowly turned warm in his hand. The feeling always gave him the impression of the weapon coming alive at the touch of its faithful Marine operator. "In Basic Combat Training we recited an oath. It began with my weapon is my life. That's just how I've always thought of my rifle; my weapon is just an extension of myself. I swore to safeguard it against all elements as I would my body, and to only employ it with the sense of duty and morality I apply to my mind. In a sense," He admitted, coming to a realization which he had never contemplated before. "This rifle is who I am."

Throughout his reverie he had noticed Livane's focus lingering on something outside of the establishment through the shining windowpanes. As the conversation pendulated back to her her eyes snapped up. "Oh?" She exclaimed with surprise. Her cheeks flushed at realizing she hadn't heard much of what was said. "I'm sorry." She rose from her seat. "I'm afraid I have to go. Thank you all for your kindness." She turned shyly and quickly ducked out of the building followed by the confused farewells of the group still seated.

Sean looked first at Lillian, then at Corsana and Hannah. Each of them merely shrugged. "Well that was odd." He remarked, not sure what else to say. He noticed Corsana suppress a yawn. She, too, rose from her chair, but gave a clear explanation as she went. "It's getting a little late for me, I'm afraid." She motioned at the rising moon out the window. "I need to rent a room and get some rest. It was nice meeting you all. Perhaps we shall run into each other again someday. Maybe even tomorrow at breakfast!" She laughed as she walked away from the table and into the crowd, waving as she went.

The remaining three hadn't talked much longer before Hannah, too, dismissed herself claiming the same reason as Corsana. It was now down to Sean and Lillian. "Well," He began, unsure of what to make of the situation. "I suppose that just leaves you and me."

Ataraxis

12-20-08, 12:36 PM

This should be my closing post, unless there are still things to straighten out.After the things she had said, Lillian felt a tad ridiculous at Livane’s sudden dismissal and departure. To add insult to the injury, Corsana and Hannah had also decided to take their leave, although their reasons for that had been made much clearer. Hoping that they would still cross paths during the morning meal, the librarian shyly bid her farewell.

She suddenly snapped back to attention at Sean’s comment. “Yes, it would appear so.” For some reason, she was feeling increasingly uncomfortable around this man, a strange thing considering how easily they had conversed up until now. Perhaps the last drops of liquor in her blood were finally gone, thus calling back her usual inhibitions to the forefront. “W-Well um…”she stuttered, lightly biting her lower lip as she tried to regain her composure. “Well, if we’re still agreed… on the matter of joint, ah, traveling… then perhaps it would be best if I retired for the evening as well. I have one last, uhm, errand to run before I can leave for Radasanth, and I’d rather complete it early in the morning.”

As she hastily drew herself to a stand, she clumsily knocked her thighs on the table’s edge. The cherry top shook, sending the half-empty mugs if alcohol dancing back and forth, nearly toppling over if it hadn’t been for Sean’s quick hands, now holding the drinks by the rim with nary a frothy drop spilled. Mortified by the mishap, Lillian apologized profusely, feeling a crowd of mocking eyes staring at her. With her eyes down, she fished a few coins in her pockets and placed them in neat stacks on the table, to pay for the drinks. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sean,” she murmured almost inaudibly, sparing him only a momentary glance. “We can discuss travel arrangements tomorrow in the afternoon, if you’re lodging here too.”

As she turned away, she felt an overwhelming sense of remorse: after all, three women had just left his presence, and all in the last five minutes. He might think it’s because of him, if I leave just like that. She hesitated a while, before turning back for a final word. “Unless… unless you wouldn’t mind accompanying me on my errand. It’s a bit… dangerous, granted. Well, in any case, I will be leaving at sunrise, so if a morning trek in the forest interests you… let me know before then?”

With that, she wished him good night with one of her clumsy smiles, then headed to her room, where she would begin preparations for her journey in Concordia Forest. The prospect made her nervous, though strangely enough, she seemed to worry more about Sean’s possible presence than the Spidermagi themselves.

Oh, what have you done this time, Lily… all you had to say was ‘good night’ and ‘see you in the morning’. Just that...

Terminus Mortis

12-20-08, 03:21 PM

With well-honed reflexes, Sean's hands shot for the wobbling glasses. He grabbed them by the rims and gently raised them off the table, which he steadied by placing it between his knee and elbow. He set the glasses down again and smiled up at Lillian. "A pleasure meeting you as well," He replied sincerely. He thought for a moment about where he would be staying. Before his unit was sent anywhere in the world each man was issued a small amount of internationally-accepted currency. As such, and because he was a Captain, he had two hundred small pieces of gold coinage on his person. This dispelled any doubt in his mind that he could afford a one night stay in a cheap establishment such as the tavern he found himself in.

As he watched her go he came to the conclusion that, though he had a bedroll attached to his pack, it was best to simply rent a room rather than take his chances sleeping in unfamiliar woods. It was then that he realized she had stopped. He rose from his chair and threw down two of his own coins for a tip, then hefted his pack and rifle onto his shoulders. As he turned away from the table he found she was facing him again. She presented him with her offer of accompanying her on her errand, then turned to leave again. Before she could step into the crowd, Sean reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder. She turned to face him, a sense of shy surprise on her face. "I'd be very grateful if you would allow me to accompany you in the morning." He began comfortingly, having sensed her unease earlier. "I have a lot to learn about this place, and if it wouldn't be too much trouble I think there's much you could teach me."

Having said their final, somewhat awkward goodnights, they parted ways. His eyes followed her for a moment as she ascended the stairs to the second floor. Assuming that the bartender would be able to assign him a room, Sean approached the bar once more, leaning on his elbows and waving to the old man to catch his attention. After negotiating a meager fee, the barkeep handed him a key and gave him a number. Sean thanked him politely and shook his hand before ascending the same stairs he had seen Lillian take earlier.

It didn't take him long to find his room in the dim light of the second floor hall. He entered and locked the door behind him. A few candles burned to light the room, scattered about so that long shadows were cast across the floor and up the walls. He placed his pack at the foot of the bed and leaned his rifle against it before removing his uniform jacket, folding it, and laying it on top of his ILBE. He blew out all but one of the candles before removing his boots and laying back on the bed. He slipped his knife under the pillow and blew out the final candle, plunging the room into darkness except for the pale moonlight which filtered through the dirty windows. He didn't know where he was or what had become of his comrades, but he recognized that there was little he could do about that now. Instead he allowed himself to drift off to sleep, willing himself to awake at the first sign of dawn drifting through the casement.