View Full Version : Break It Down
(This thread is closed to myself, Letho, Bohemia, and Dissinger. Feel free to follow along though. ;))
The streets of Radasanth bustled with the usual midday activity. Shouts of merchants hawking their wares, mothers chastising their children, and the occasional bard singing in the streets flooded the air in an enchanting cacophony of life. With not a cloud in the sky, the sun shone down brilliantly, highlighting the vivid colors of the city. It was business as usual.
Weaving through the crowd, a young girl of human appearance stood out among the locals. The bright red hair scooped into pigtails; the sleeveless crimson top that clung to her curves invitingly, yet draped low in the back so that much of the soft flesh was exposed; and the black trousers that followed every line of her legs had many passersby looking more than twice. More dazzling than her attire, however, was her cheerful smile, which seemed a beacon of light in the heat of the city.
To Abbie, the Radasanth Bazaar was a thing of beauty. All those purses just begging to be cut, marks to target, and the food! As children passed, the gentle pooka smiled at them, offering a coin or stolen fruit to the ones that seemed most needy. For those who seemed affluent, however, her approach was one of innocent sexuality, and taking her leave meant lining her pockets, though they would not realize it until much later.
After procuring a rather heavy coin purse, she squealed in delight and made her way for a nearby food vendor. Sausages, cheeses, and even cakes decorated the cart, causing onlookers to drool with hunger. Taking her time, Abbie studied the selection, and finally decided. “Excuse me, a slice of mince pie, please?” Her smile flashed at the merchant, who simply stared for a moment, too awed to speak. She blinked at him, and he seemed to come to his senses, though a dull red crept into his face as he served the meal.
Bohemia
04-03-06, 10:56 PM
"God damn it, I'm serious. You can even see the detail work on that print, the wrinkles and stuff. If you don't reprimand the man responsible for this, and give me a free sandwich, well, you can just freaking eat me buddy, and I'll see what that cop over there has to say."
It was a rarely beautiful day in Radasanth for Jon. Since July had disappeared, it had seemed to be nothing but pounding rain and grey, cold skies. But today seemed the first break to such depressing weather; the sun was high in the sky and burning bright enough to warrant light clothing today. Cussing at the vendor, he stood in a pair of grey denim shorts and his usual teal colored shirt, his feet free of socks, but protected by a pair of sandals. His hands motioned wildly as he shouted, nearby mothers clapping their hands over their children's ears, faces livid at the young man's freely used words.
It was the oldest trick in Jon's book, especially at the fancy restaraunts where you paid after the meal. Buy something with sauce, pull out the ol' Johnson, and slap it down to immortalize it's image into the sauce. Cue the angry rants. It was a little more difficult in Althanas, but it seemed to work all the same. When Jon had presented the roast beef sandwich, the imprint of the member obvious in the heavily appied yellow mustard, all the color had drained out of his face, and his jaw had fallen. Then, suspicious, the two of them had traded shouted protests, but as the line grew, and the customers began to complain about the service, the man had reluctantly went back into his portable, makeshift kitchen to chew out his cooks, and to order up another roast beef sandwich.
"You still got it, Jon ol' boy!" He laughed and shook his fist as though in defiance, tossing the defiled sandwich in the trash. There was no way he was going to eat it, even if it was his own junk. That brought a whole new category to things that disturbed him. "Heh, they're just as stupid here as they were back ho -- llllllyyyy shit." A red headed tart, in fact, one of the finest looking woman he'd seen yet since inexplicably waking up in Concordia, walked right into the line of his sight like it was destiny that they'd meet. He tilted his head in a futile attempt to pick up every inch of those maddening curves, the swell of her breasts under that tight, low cut red shirt that burned itself into his eyes, but in a good way, black pants so tight they looked painted on.
He could almost hear Whitesnake playing in the back of his head.
She walked right up to the counter, seemingly oblivious to Jon's eyes on her swaying hips, completely ignoring the line. At that moment, the vendor came back with a roast beef sandwich, the meat still hot and steaming, mustard aplenty and completely undefiled. "I apologize for the...unpleasantries sir. Here is your sandwich, you may order whatever you want from the menu, on the house."
"One of your cooks stuck his dick in my pie...err, I mean, a slice of mince pie." Jon smiled with his most charming smile (at least, in his consideration) and leaned against the vendor's shack on wheels, staring at the pooka. "Your pie's...all taken care of," he said, in a falsified voice deeper than his normal one, taking her hand and kissing it as the red faced vendor brought her food. "In truth, it's on the h-"
"Fuck you, Jenkins," Jon growled, shooting the man a withering glance. "Quit cock blocking me, you douche."
More than a little surprised, the pooka stared at the newcomer openly, her eyes wide and gleaming in the sunlight. His words were strange, his accent foreign, and his dress and demeanor even more alien than her own. There’s something about this guy… I like him! As he took her hand and lowered his voice, Abbie lowered her eyelids slightly, still keeping eye contact, her full lips lifting into a broad, inviting smile. When the vendor arrived, she giggled a little at the crude exchange, touching her slender, well kept fingers to her mouth.
For a moment, the vendor eyed the two jealously, pouting a little at his loss. The pooka noted this, and chuckled inwardly at the common occurrence. Seems everyone wants a piece. Silly men… Turning her attention back to the charming, if inelegant man before her, she left her right hand in his, and leaned in toward him, leaving her pie on the cart to cool. Lifting her left hand, she touched his shoulder lightly, running her fingers down to his bicep, where they lingered. Her eyes followed the touch, her lips slightly parted in a half smile filled with seemingly suppressed emotion.
“How gallant of you to pay for my meal,” she said, her tone low and husky, though her voice was soft and high in pitch. “I should really repay you. Can you think of a way?” With that, she lifted her big green eyes back to his. The fingers on his arm brushed over the muscle there, while her teeth nibbled on her full lower lip. She knew full well how she looked, and relished the thought of what it must be doing. Releasing his hand, she leaned in further, pressing her body against his. Tilting her head upward, she moved her lips to within an inch of his ear so that her warm breath could be felt. “I’m staying at the Goat’s Head.” Her words were spoken softly, but there was no mistaking them.
After a moment, Abbie stepped back and retrieved her pie. Using the small fork that had been provided as a courtesy, she lifted a bite to her mouth. With great show, she savored the taste, and then gave the man a sideward glance. Winking seductively, she turned away, her bare back and well displayed backside toward him. Her hips swayed gently as she walked, and she could feel his eyes burning into her. I wonder if he’ll show up. Wouldn’t that be funny! The pooka ate as she wandered, chewing thoughtfully on the half-forgotten food, a smile of curiosity hanging on her lips.
Bohemia
04-04-06, 06:51 PM
This woman was electric, her touch inciting a fire like never before in him, in all the right places. He couldn't even speak, dumbfounded, his grin first spread like wildfire, then locked completly. Maybe it was the hair, or something just entirely otherwordly about her, but Jon just couldn't manage to gather and set his thoughts into a straight line. Distasteful, proclaimed the others in line, behind the two, downright scandalous, but at the moment, the fact that his shorts felt like they were shrinking let him know that he really didn't give a damn.
'Usually buying dinner nets a guy head,', he almost blurted out, not giving a damn who would hear it. Usually, he didn't anyways. In a world where he knew nobody and had no family, it meant he could be as loose with his morales as he damned well pleased. However, the thought was quickly quashed as she stood on her tiptoes, drawing her body close to his. his conscience was a dull roar in his skull suddenly as her sweet, warm breath spilt gently over his ear. He quickly shoved his hands deep into his pockets to avoid doing a whole hell of a lot of things, grabbing her chest and just dropping his pants right then and there the least of them. The only thing stopping him from doing exactly that, all at once, right now, was the fact that this women was the type that countries waged wars over. You didn't do anything so crude and sporadic as that to a fine lady like that.
Then, any urges that he'd suddenly had melted away at the sound of her voice, and more accurately, the words spoken to him. The Goat's Head Inn. If he managed to somehow forget those words, he wouldn't need his friends to give him a relentless and abusive ribbing, he do it himself. She took her slice of mince pie and left then, giving him one last look. Jon took his own time taking his last look as well as she sauntered away, his eyes glued to her backside.
He didn't realize his mouth was hanging open, or that he was muttering things that could be easily considered pornographic. "Sir. Your sandwich," the vendor said flatly, obviously angry, and not afraid to show it now that Abbie was gone. His line had all but disappeared, the customers rushing off as the filth had spilt from the boy's mouth. "Sir," he said again, thrusting the plate towards him, a hint of irritance in his tone. "Bitch please," Jon grumbled, slapping it right out of his hand. "I'll be eating better tonight. And it's all you can eat!" Jon crowed with laughter, head tilted to the sky, then grabbed the counter firmly and began to thrust his hips into the stand, grinning fervently. "I can't beleive I'm gonna get some ass, buying some woman some pie , buying a single peice of pie..." His crude singsong carried a little too far, and it wasn't until he felt a tap on his shoulder that he stopped with his graphic hip gyrations. He turned to see a soldier of the CAF, scowling at him, but his grin didn't fall away. "Yeah, yeah, quiet down or into the pokey. Whatever, I got shit to do and I can't hang around this ass pirate all day. I gotta get prepared..."
The soldier and the vendor watched him walk away, an obvious spring in his step. "God damn kids these days. Something worng with that one, I swear to Draco -- what are you looking at?" The tired vendor glanced back at the guard, whose eyes were a-wandering.
"Ass pirate...? What are you doing tonight?"
The cheery jubilant day that resonated with life throughout the streets of the Corone capitol was in complete contrast to Letho’s grizzling mood. Myrhia was gone, the sun was mocking his every glum thought with salvos of frolicky beams that paved the streets with gold and he was stuck in the government district of Radasanth. He hated the pompous pencil-pushers that lived in these quarters, hated their cocky perambulation, their powdered faces that had an expression of a person that just found out his late grandfather left him a world in his will. These people were the leeches of the society, feeding on the poor and thriving on the misery of the slums. They were the weakest link, and yet they stood at the top of the food chain.
The government district was where they were gathered. The marble manors with endless green yards and perfectly trimmed hedges attracted them like flies were attracted to a piece of dung. Pristine stone-paved streets, fountains that sent streams of crystal clear water cascading down in more miniature waterfalls that most people saw in their entire life, that and countless other amenities was what the government district offered to the crème de la crème of Radasanth. Regardless of which house you picked here, chances were you’re stepping onto a property of a Corone official. Not that there was a chance for a person to make more then a handful of strides over the grass that looked better then most carpets in the local inns.
Today was a special day for the portentous inhabitants of the slums. Apparently one of the local merchants (that just happened to be also a governor, a spokesperson in the parliament and a landlord with assets in a couple of strategically important places in Radasath bazaar) was preparing a party for his... kind so to say. Needless to say, only the big kahunas in the vicinity were invited. It was a ludicrous waste of money, resulting in nothing save for a chance for the wealthy folk to huddle around and congratulate each other for being the ultimate masters of the universe. Letho despised these anserine displays that proved quite clearly that the person with the biggest money pouch was seldom the one with the greatest amount of wisdom. But he wasn’t here for the party.
Oh no, he was given the great honor to be one of the guards that would protect the compound while the big guns kiss each other’s dicks and try to crawl into each other asshole as far as possible. Usually, this was a job for the Corone Armed Forces, but today the Grand Marshal Aidan Johnston was attending the party, and given the fact that he was the commander of the Corone Rangers, some of the rangers were honored by the post duty. It was grunt work, a menial meaningless task and Letho was getting bored from the second he took his spot at the lawn of the great manor.
True, he could have refused it, but there was another reason why he accepted the seemingly inane task. Apparently one of the Scarlet Brigade members would attend the party. Nobody knew the name or the description; the Scarlet Brigade was always shrouded in a veil of mystery. But they were the best of the best that Corone had to offer, an intervention crew that came as a wind and left as a shadow, and Letho wanted to see what was the big fuss all about.
So instead of heading back to Willowtown, the swordsman was now standing in a shadow of a massive oak tree, his husky body propped against the trunk as his hand played with the six-foot gunblade, spinning it around the vertical axis sluggishly. His post was on the outer edge of the lawn, just beside the stone road that, but only a handful of people were ambling around anyways. Most of them were either at the party or sulking in their homes because they weren’t invited. His black coat was thrown nonchalantly over his shoulder, leaving his torso clad in a dark green short-sleeved shirt tucked tightly into his denim pants. He paid no heed to the party. He attended his share of those while he was the prince of the Savion kingdom. And while back then all the razzle-dazzle of the sparkly décor and the conflicting scents of feminine perfumes seemed amusing, now he realized just how stupid those people looked in their pressed clothes and feigned visages of people that tried and failed utterly to look gallant and majestic.
Letho felt the urge to barge in and tell these overblown blimps a thing or two about a thing or two. But even as he looked at them, parading around like puppets in a dollhouse, he realized that he would either wind up slapping them silly or just laughing into their perplexed faces.
And then she walked by. Letho’s hand spun the gunblade again, but his lack of focus made him fumble the massive weapon and drop it on the soft cushion of grass below. She just had to be a redhead.
Having taken her leave of the strange but funny man, Abbie nibbled hungrily on her mince pie. By the time it was gone, the man was forgotten, and the scenery had changed. Great, heavily adorned homes decorated richly lined the streets, and finely dressed lords and ladies roamed the streets. Suddenly, the pooka became alert, her eyes lighting up in delight at the prospect of a mark. Suppressing her glee, at least visibly, she nonchalantly located a waste receptacle and tossed away the empty plate and now-useless fork. Brushing her hands together, the final remnants of the meal were dusted away.
Much to her chagrin, the crowd chose that moment to thin, the people apparently having somewhere to be all at the same time. In their wake, several soldiers assumed positions in several alleys and doorways. For a second, she considered giving up, but then an explanation came to her mind that brought a wide, mischievous smile to her cherry lips. A party. That has to be it! Some rich guy is showing off! While she could easily choose a home or shop to burgle undetected, the idea of a challenge was more than she could pass up. I’ll do it while the house is full, and prove my abilities! To whom she was to prove them, she had no idea, nor was it a concern.
Carefully scanning the few people left in the street, the thief located a girl, roughly her own apparent age, who was dressed richly in gold silk and crème chiffon. With extreme care, she schooled her features into an expression of disinterest, similar to the faces of most of the district’s inhabitants. As though she had only just remembered she had somewhere to be, the vibrant beauty strode gracefully after her first target, the one that would lead her to personal victory.
A few blocks later, as Abbie turned a corner, she realized that her quarry had run off more quickly than previously anticipated, so she stopped to get her bearings. A loud *ting*, as that of a rather heavy metal object meeting the ground, shocked the pooka, causing her to turn toward the noise. There, standing against a tree with a rather stunned look on his face, was a handsome warrior, his gaze locked on her. I’m caught! No… wait, he wouldn’t drop his sword if he knew… Maybe I can still get out of this…
Thinking quickly, she placed her hand over her chest lightly, feigning relief. Smiling and half-laughing, she walked toward the man. “You surprised me! I thought someone was trying to rob me!” As the distance between them faded, she threw him a magnanimous smile, bright enough to rob the sun of its glory. “What are you doing out here anyway? Aren’t you coming to the party? Or are you patrolling?” Her interest was somewhat genuine, though she sounded as though his presence was completely intriguing.
Letho had to struggle not to reveal his complete and utter lack of indifference towards the girl because if there was a sore eye in the vicinity of the redhead, she was be more then a welcome sight for it. And his eyes were very sore, seemingly devouring every feminine motion of her hourglass body. Her attire was provoking to say the least, amplifying the heavenly curves that the gods granted her, showing enough of the perfect spotless skin to make even the most chaste and chivalrous to stare. Letho was chaste... more or less. He was chivalrous when chivalry was needed. And he couldn’t get his eyes off the vixen.
Her hair was pulled up, her pigtails like a pair of jocund flame tongues enlightened by the prominent sun above their heads that made her emerald eyes twinkle in the teasing glance that only women could give. It was a glance that made men do all those things that they didn’t want to, just so they could be at the end of one. Letho’s eyes moved down more slowly then he intended them to, following the perfect lines of her revealed neck, the way the flesh and the muscles of it created an artifact that could stand as a paragon. It alone made Letho’s breath stop somewhere between his lungs and his mouth as his lips went dry in an instant. His eyes continued their opprobrious descent to the regions no knight should venture. Letho pushed the honor aside. He was a fallen knight after all.
Her top was scandalous, almost revealing as much of her bare flesh as it covered. Her shoulders were the twin perfect curves of pristine beauty, her arms womanly enough to make even the seemingly menial motion as raising a hand to her chest breathtaking. Her scant top failed to hide the perfection of her perky breasts, but rather amplifying their curves, offering just enough to make a man’s heart skip a handful of beats. To wrap it all up, her pants were skin tight, hugging her curves more intimately then any man ever could, completing the figure of an trickster angel that lost its wings and gained the sexual attraction that filled the air with tension. Girls like that made the time stop and bow to their ravishing beauty. The time around Letho was standing still.
Her voice was ambrosia, her smile refined and sweet enough to give Letho a sugar rush, and as she approached, one foot before the other, he struggled not to let his jaw drop loose. Still, the years of training enabled his expression to remain firm, strict, and only his wandering eyes were revealing the turmoil inside of him. He managed to find enough tranquility to respond to her inquiry.
“I wouldn’t worry about getting robbed in this district, lady.” he replied, bowing his head gallantly, perhaps even a bit too gallantly. His voice was powerful, dignified, but in the presence of such beauty even a grouch such as him had to succumb and allow it to become a tad softer and more pleasant. “I think there are more guards here then the folk that actually live here.”
“Now, as for the reason why I’m here... Well, I think I should be asking that question. This is a private property and as much as your presence would certainly enrich the party over yonder, I am pretty certain all the guests that were invited are already present. So you would be trespassing right now and I should apprehend you.” he finished, his voice changing into a deadly serious tone at the end. He let the tension slide for about two seconds before his stone-chiseled face broke into a smirk, making it clear the last sentence was nothing but a jest.
“Besides, you wouldn’t want to go over there anyways. Nothing but slimy tedious folk discussing how rich they are and how much richer they can get. The dull music is enough to make a person fall asleep.” he finally added with a smile emerging on his face. It wasn’t enough to be a mere shadow of her own, but it made him look younger and vibrant again.
Rich chocolate eyes poured over her body, emotionlessly evaluating the curves displayed there. So cool was his expression, the girl began to quiver inside, fearing that she had crossed the wrong man. His remarks about her placement in the city only increased the worry, and her smile wavered a bit under the stress. Its over... He's going to lock me up...
Suddenly, he smiled, breaking the wall of doubt that had been built, as he joked about the debutants and lords inside. Knowing that she had to stay in character, she lifted a dainty hand to her ruby lips and giggled a little at his jesting. Her eyes shone in the sunlight like twin sapphires, and she allowed the mirth to touch them. Excuse time... Make it good, girly!
"Actually, my cousin invited me last moment, since she would be bored in there alone." As though thinking of the poor cousin, she frowned slightly, schooling her eyes to soften sadly. "It is her birthday next week, and her father has been parading her around, trying to find her a husband." Leaning in a bit, she lowered her voice conspiratorily. "Best thing for him to do would be to put a sack over her head and offer his fortune!"
That said, she nodded wisely, another disarmingly bright smile making its way back onto her features. Crossing her arms over her abdomen, she whirled around to face the building, eyeing it with a little sadness, but retaining her composure around the stern-faced soldier. As she turned, the curve of her long neck, and of her shapely back were exposed to the man. She stood staring for a moment, allowing him to look, while she pretended to consider whether or not to bother with the stuffy party. There goes my famous acquisition...
Turning gracefully back to facing him, she smiled almost guiltily. "I think you're right about the party. Last time I went to one I had a meaty ogre-man drooling on me all night, and my feet were swollen for a week! He was probably the worst dancer on Althanas!" A look of pure disgust melted into her features, as though the memory were almost as revolting as her concocted reality. Pausing for a moment, as though in thought, she grinned slightly. "Maybe he and my cousin should marry. He's probably the best she could get!"
Her soft laughter rolled through the small courtyard, her own joke bringing images of what could be to her mind. All I can picture is some ogre, a troll, and the product of their union! After a moment, she brought herself under control, as she didn't want to seem too desperate in her laughter. Her eyes still twinkling, she gazed at the soldier again, her eyelids drooping slightly in a look that had recently seduced the hapless Jon. Arms still draped over her abdomen, she toed the grass a bit, feigning distraction. He is kinda handsome... especially when he smiles like he did.
It dawned on her then that sometime during her attempt to cover her presence, she had drifted even closer to him, so that if she extended her arm fully, she would be able to touch him. A touch of rose appeared along her cheeks, her embarassment evident. Don't mess up, Abbie, he can see everything now. Touching a hand to one of her pigtails, she knew she looked nervous, but her blushing implied a more sensual undertone. "So," she said huskily. "You going to turn me in?"
Despite her cunning attempts to fit the profile, she was no noble. Letho spent twenty years as the very epitome of nobility, attending glamorous balls that attracted the majority of persnickety lords and ladies that held their heads so high, they risked getting a cramp in their neck. They sauntered as if the very floor beneath their feet should be grateful for having the honor to touch the soles of their shoes. They spoke with this annoyed dullness that made a person feel that every matter, however dire, was inane and trivial. Letho knew all these genuine marks of royalty, knew them because they were once hallmarks of his own mannerism.
That is why he could see through her disguise. She put up a good show though, impersonating an individual that just got separated from the sleazy pack that saw everybody else as their minions. Even the story that she served him seemed palpable enough for some random grunt to buy it and sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. But it was the details that gave her off. The dust on her shoes, the creases on her clothes, the lack of make-up on her cherubic face, the missing scent of abundantly used perfume... A true noble would never allow herself to arrive at the ball with those details present on her body.
But Letho allowed the roleplay in her little charade to continue for the time being. She was probably a freeloader, hoping to spend an evening living a couple of steps higher on the social ladder. He was willing to put a large amount of money on the fact that if she was to prod deeper on the matter of her cousin, asking for a name, the girl would either try to flee or give him some phoney name of a person that is not prancing around the polished halls behind his back. And he didn’t want her to leave. The day was long, tiresome and currently had no potential to change for the better. In such an environment the foxy maiden was a blessing from the heavens.
Letho wanted to say something witty, even had a nice anecdote about ogres and dancing, but then she turned to survey the party and all thoughts were vanquished from his mind. Her already provoking top revealed another marvel of her body that should have been concealed. A woman’s back was a mystique uncharted territory, a sacred map that only those that fell into her good graces should have the right to explore. And her svelte back was elegantly revealed to him, making his eyes rummage over it like his fingers would if he would only reach out and touch this blissful suave flesh. He was almost certain that if he would touch her right now, she would incinerate his skin wherever he would make contact.
When she turned back, Letho’s eyes almost instinctively moved upwards. True, he was stunned and shocked by the luscious appearance of the vixen, but ogling bastard he was not and the trained reflex made him look into her glowing emeralds once again. His strictness was gone now though, effaced completely from his facial contours as he spoke in a lenient voice. “Well, it seems there is some serious divergence from your unfortunate cousin when it comes to you.” he complimented her subtly, adding another smile and giving out an air of absolute confidence. Below that iron mask though, his heart was beating wildly and the cold sweat was pouring down his back. It was ludicrous what a woman could do to a man with a glance and a giggle.
She was closer now, within arm’s reach, close enough for his vampiric senses to pick up the scent of her skin, her clothes, her hair that she flirtatiously played with. And while a mental image of her in handcuffs and completely at his mercy did instigate a handful of shameful thought (or more then just a handful), he merely smiled at her sultry inquiry.
“Nah.” he said in an almost abashed tone. “You seem harmless enough and I’m really not fond of restraining beautiful women.” Letho added, looking straight into her eyes that now stood so close to his own, peering at him in all their splendor, mellowing their way down to his soft core. A minute blush appeared on her cheeks, a touch or rosy red on her spotless pristine skin. Letho thought it looked divine in sync with her frolicsome pigtails.
“Unless you make a run for it.” he added with a sly grin. “Then I just might have to chase you down.”
He wouldn’t mind chasing her down. He wouldn’t mind at all.
“You seem harmless enough and I’m really not fond of restraining beautiful women. Unless you make a run for it. Then I just might have to chase you down.”
His grin was infectious, and soon Abbie was grinning with him. I have time for a little cat and mouse... What harm could it be? He's obviously just after my tail, but that shouldn't ruin my day! Beaming at him devilishly, she let him think she was flirting. In reality, the sheer fun of a chase was all she needed to liven up her day. "Sounds like fun!" With a wink of her sparkling emerald left eye, she again turned her bare back toward him, the red fabric of her shirt framing the pale flesh. Ducking down a bit, she pushed off with her right foot, breaking into a light run around the courtyard.
Beneath her shoed feet, the pooka could feel the earth shift with her every step. A light breeze in conjuction with her own movements caused her hair to bounce along like twin flames dancing. With her heritage, the girl knew that he could not keep up with her at full stride, so she kept her pace reasonable. Sighting an aspen tree, she dove behind it, rolling over herself and jumping back to standing. Peering out from behind it, she watched her chase-partner with a smile on her face that touched her eyes. Next I'll run over there, and perhaps jump into the tree! That would surprise him, I'd bet. Oh! I could probably get his belt pouch! Stifling a giggle, she crouched, ready to run at the drop of a hat.
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ooc: Sorry, I just could not stretch this. Won't happen again.
She was certainly a tease, a coquette that juggled the emotions and desires of those around her with a wink and a smile. Her every glance was telepathic inferno, her every movement rich with sensuality, making her the kind of a woman that got men into trouble and they thanked her for every second of it. And she was like a vice too - the more you took in, the more addicted you became, and against all reason you kept craving for more.
Letho wasn’t certain what caused him to lust for the frolicky girl. Perhaps it was the hue of her hair and the unique jocund mannerisms that reminded him of Myrhia and he subconsciously hoped to discover at least a fraction of her in the girl. Then again, it might have been the fact that he was irked by the dullness of the day, and the loneliness that grew like a bad seed in the dark corners of his psyche became more and more prominent, begging him to satisfy the need for company. Or it could’ve been something as simple as the recognition that he liked the girl despite her deceptive nature and the lies she served him early on. It intrigued him, made him think of what stood beyond that wall of deceit, the real story that stood beyond those coruscant eyes, and the more he pondered on it, the more she crawled underneath his skin.
It was no wonder that when she decided to turn this into a game of catch, his face declined putting the relentless professional mask on and proceed to chase her down like a serious offender. Instead, even as she skittered away from him like a gazelle, his smirk widened minutely as his head shook amiably. She was getting him in trouble and he certainly felt the urge to thank her for it.
The gunblade at his feet lay askew, leaning over a bumpy piece of root, allowing his foot to step ardently on the handle. This caused the weapon to leap into mid air, its spin seemingly uncontrolled and unpredictable. But Letho’s hand grabbed the weapon immaculately, strapping it on his back in a single fluent motion as he accepted the challenge and sped after her down the carpet-like lawn. Her pace was steady though, easy to follow, luring him to engage her in a coltish chase, allowing him to see her back flex and convulse with each stride she made, amplifying his desire even further. It alone was enough for him to quicken his tempo and get back in her vicinity as soon as humanly possible.
She veered around a heavyset oak, taking a swift peek just to make sure her pursuer was still on her tail. Her smile was mysterious, enticing, making her entire visage reflect her mirthful nature. “You won’t be smiling for long, you silly little thing.” his mind commented as he approached her hiding place. Once he was close enough he made his move. He used his vampiric traits, amplifying his speed as he changed his course so rapidly he was almost a blur. It allowed Letho to swerve around the other side and hopefully surprising the woman enough to make it clear she was still the catch.
But it seemed that a bit of surprise awaited them both. Even as he spun around the corner the redhead was before him, probably predicting his swiveling move, and making the two collide. He managed to slow down just enough not to cause harm, but the momentum made him fall on top of her, making the two land on the cushiony grass below. Their faces were inches apart, their bodies touching ever so slightly, making him feel the perfection of her curves on his own skin. His befuddled expression changed into another confident smirk swiftly as he looked down at her angelic face.
“I told you I’d have to chase you down. Do I have to tie you down now or will you tell me why you are really here?”
It didn’t took a telepath to see that there was little seriousness in his threats and that in this instance the catch was better then the chase.
((Don't worry about it. It was short and sweet. :) Now, I figure she wiggles out of his grasp and "accidentaly" drops the key as she leaves for the tavern.))
Time seemed to move at a snail's pace as the man came around the tree, and yet the pooka found herself unable to do much but brace for impact. His movements had been so fast, she had been unable to grasp what was happening until it was too late. As his body knocked into hers, she took a deep breath, exhaling as her back brushed against the grass below. The impact was thankfully quite light, but she could not contain her surprise. He moved so fast! Faster than even me! There's no way I could outrun him if he were to catch me in the act...
Above her, the soldier stared at her, a look of cocky flirtation twisting his features into a handsome mockery of self-righteousness. Smiling back at him, her face showed none of the distaste she felt. Rather, she appeared taken with his show of speed and power. One wrong move, Abbie, and you're done for! Now, how to get out of this mess... Aha! A look of shyness overcame her smile and she turned her eyes away from his momentarily, as though she were playing coy.
“I told you I’d have to chase you down. Do I have to tie you down now or will you tell me why you are really here?”
Blushing a little at his obvious advance toward her, she giggled slightly, her smile wide and infectious. Reaching up with one finger, she traced the outline of his pectoral muscles, watching the path with seemingly lustful eyes. Making eye contact again, she wore a mask of desire developed carefully through the years. "Well, I thought I had told you, but since you don't believe me..."
With that, the girl used the miniscule space between them to wriggle away from his grasp, leaving him alone on the ground. Her speed lifted to a full feline run, one that she hoped he would not try to match. What she did not notice in her escape, however, was that her room key had slipped off during the fall. The tiny gold device was etched delicately with the words "Goat’s Head Inn, Room 12", words that Abbie would soon be fully annoyed by.
She was like live fire, her every look heating up the environment a couple of degrees, her every sensual move dancing down the thin line between teasing and downright scandalous. But then again, she was a redhead, so the frolicky temperament shouldn’t have come as a surprise for the weathered swordsman. And yet it did, and an extremely pleasant surprise it turned out to be. By now he didn’t even care about her agenda and the clandestine reasons for her presence that stood somewhere beyond those enthralling emerald eyes. Because she was like a lark that landed on his oaken branch to make his day significantly less tedious.
When she made an effort to squeeze out of his arms, Letho allowed her to do so with no intervention save for a mild smirk. She dexterously slipped away from his grasp, got up to her feet gingerly and dashed away from him once again. This time she elevated her speed significantly, bringing her game up a notch, but the swordsman had no doubts he could catch up with her with little effort. However, he decided against another footrace for the time being for two reasons. One of them was the fact that she was fleeing away from the area he was supposed to guard which more or less placed her out of his jurisdiction. But that wasn’t the main reason why he merely rolled over and sat with his back propped against the tree. The main reason was the item that his fingers fished out from the grass once she fled like a gazelle down the long grassy plain.
“Goat’s Head Inn, Room 12.”
He knew that place. Radasanth maybe had a plentiful number of inns and taverns, but Letho did enough wandering to get quite a few names stuck in his head. Goat’s Head Inn was one of the prissier places, not one of the cheapest but at least you didn’t get a roast with a side dish of roaches. He tucked the key in the interior pocket of his coat, his eyes following the red vixen until she veered around a corner and escaped his field of vision.
“Soldier, why haven’t you apprehended that girl?” a strict voice came from up above, a shadow of an imposing man falling on the relaxing swordsman. Letho waved his hand away as if he was swatting away a horsefly.
“Go away. Sod off.” he said to the pompous man without looking at him. He thought he recognized the voice of one of the sergeants of the Corone Armed Forces that bothered him earlier today about some minuscule details like the lack of badge on his outfit.
“Don’t you speak to me with that tone, boy. Get up, soldier!” the man growled from above, kicking Letho in the shin. The swordsman bolted to his feet, facing the annoying man that bothered his moment of mulling as the redhead still lingered in his memory. Unfortunately, the face that stood before him was none other then the face of the Grand Marshal Aidan Johnston, the supreme commander of all Corone rangers. Letho didn’t recognize the man by his face though, but by the rank that stood at his epaulette. “Soldiers like you give us rangers a bad name.”
“Uhm... I’m sorry about that, sir. The girl was not a threat anymore. Just a... Just a poor lass that lost her way.” the sullen swordsman managed to respond, not aiding to the rather flimsy first impression he made. He came here with the sole reason to meet the Grand Marshal and he ended up telling him to sod off. The ancient incisive eyes of the man before him eyed him for a handful of dreadful seconds before he shook his head in disdain and walked away.
“Just return to your post.”
Letho sighed audibly, striding away to where he stood before the redhead strolled in and spun his world around. Sure, she was a coquette. Sure, she got him in trouble. But just as sure was the fact that he would go to the Goat’s Head Inn as soon as his shift was done.
Once Abbie was about a mile away from the soldier, she slowed to a walk, only mildly winded. Wandering through the streets, she got her bearings by searching for familiar buildings, which didn’t take long at all. Before her was the bazaar where she had found so many purses to cut. Grinning at the thought, she meandered through the slowly thinning crowd, cutting a few more for good measure, on her way back to the inn. As she rounded the last corner, the sun was beginning to set, lighting the sky on fire with brilliant reds and purples.
Stepping into the brightly lit tavern, the pooka grinned broadly at the barkeep that doubled as the innkeeper. He eyed her with restrained desire, but kept himself in check so as not to offend her. Abbie knew, but said nothing, as she did with most men with whom she spent any notable time. Waving as she passed, she darted up the stairs without a word, seeking refuge in her room. At her door, however, she realized she had lost her key. Jogging back down the stairs, she approached the burly innkeeper she knew as Jake. “I have a teensy problem. See, I accidentally ate my keys with lunch today, and I can’t get in my room…”
Her smile was beguiling, her innocent face tilted ever so slightly to enhance the persuasion. With a love-struck grin, he reached behind himself to the cork board where the extra keys were held and handed her one to her room. “Don’t lose this one, or I won’t be able to get you back in,” he cautioned, his face becoming pink. “Did you need anything else, Abbie? Some food? Bath water?”
“Yes, please, a bath. I’ll eat later.” Jingling the keys, she beamed at him gratefully and turned away. Dashing back upstairs, she waited only minutes before a tub, towels, and hot water started arriving. After the bath was set up, she shooed out the attendants and locked the door. Stripping quickly, she sunk into the water, enjoying the relaxing heat on her sore muscles. That run took more out of me than I thought… I’ll have to train more. Can’t have dogs catching me!
As the water temperature became less soothing, the pooka used the lavender soap that had been provided, the sweet scent soaking deeply into her flesh. Dipping her head into the water, she soaped that up as well, turning the fiery locks into a mass of white foam before rinsing them with the jug of water that had been kept separate. Finally the sweat, dirt and grass from the tussle with the soldier was washed away, and she stood, letting the water run from her naked body. Bending down, she picked up one towel, wrapping it around her hair like a turban, then another which she wrapped around her body, drying it neatly before stepping out of the tub to the carpet.
Kneeling next to her bed, she pulled a chest out from under it. Using a key she kept hidden, she opened the lock and lifted the lid. Sorting through the clothing, she found a sleeveless, pale green dress that was indecently short. Setting it aside, she closed and locked the chest, sliding it back under the bed and attaching the key to her left ear like an earring. Standing once again, she removed the towel, folding it and putting it on the end table. Lifting the dress, she reveled in the way it slid over her skin, the faux silk fabric caressing her gently.
Quickly pulling on a pair of panties from her nightstand, she gave herself the once-over in the mirror on the door. Her hair was a bit messy, so she combed her fingers through it for a moment. Deciding that she looked silly with wet hair, she scooped it into her trademark ponytails, the ends dripping slightly as she tied them off with a bit of ribbon. Looking at herself again, she smiled. Perfect… Satisfied and hungry, she slipped her feet into a pair of silver strappy sandals and danced saucily down out of her room (locking it of course) and down to the first floor.
Dissinger
05-01-06, 09:03 PM
"Another round?" The barkeep asked. The hand merely tapped the rim of the glass and the tender sighed picking up the dusty bottle and pouring its contents into the glass. The amber liquid filling the glass before the gauntleted hand of the thief gripped it and began to drink it. As he poured a quarter of the vile liquid down his throat the tender snorted, "The way you drink that stuff you'd think it was water..."
Seth looked up from under the cover of brown hair and smirked saying, "I know, at least you won’t have to clean me up when I'm through..." The search for Liliana following the Serenti had been an abysmal failure. His heart was torn and he was running out of options, he had scoured the lands of Althanas and couldn't help but feel an overwhelming anger rise up at the thought that he had missed something, some clue.
Still it was then that he slumped, hunching over the drink. He was drunk fro certain, possibly horribly so. However he was responsive and he was volatile. A powder keg if anyone saw one. His eyes shut as he looked down waiting for something to fall into his lap, some sign that he was on the right trail. It was a drunken man's hope that fueled him and it was a drunken man's lechery that would get him into trouble this night.
As Seth finally looked up he thought he could smell something. A scent he had only smelled on three women in his life. One was his mother, one was Sivienna Mizami, and the third was Liliana, the one he searched for. While it was always a scent of comfort, it was the overwhelming scent that removed his inhibitions as well. That turned him soft and docile, and it was this scent that led him to look at a beautiful vixen coming down the stairs into the tavern proper.
It was the scent that drove him to pacify his ways, and tonight, to believe.
Striding down the stairs confidently, the pooka could feel eyes on her. Scanning the room, she saw the usual crowd of men, their appreciative glances followed with smiles. There was someone different here tonight, though. His smokey eyes burned into her flesh, despite the shaggy brown locks that strove to hide them. Unconsciously, she looked at herself quickly, checking for char marks. Seeing none, her smile returned, and she decided her imagination had put one over on her.
Skimming over to the bar, she addressed the barkeep familiarly, a flirtatious wink tossed his way. "Jake, gimme something cold. What's that guy having?" She nodded her head in the direction of the thief, who was nursing something that looked strong. Smiling broadly in his sappy way, the burly man poured her a shot wordlessly, mentally noting to add it to his own tab later.
While waiting, the pooka leaned over the bar, giving the barkeep a lovely view of her decolletage, and shifting her dress up ever so slightly so that the men watching were able to see the pink satin that covered her womanhood. Unaware of the issue, Abbie ignored the audible collective intake of breath that came from the room behind her. She watched the usually steady hands of Jake wobble like an epileptic, though, as he spilled the alcohol all over his shoes. He swore vividly, then set down the bottle and glass, taking a moment to mop up the mess with a bar towel. Impatient, Abbie topped off the glass herself, then corked the bottle. "Thank you!"
With that, she lifted her head and sashayed gracefully over to the one who disturbed her, refusing to give in to her instincts. Standing at the edge of the table about an arms length from the stranger, she set the drink down and leaned over so she could be closer to eye level. A thud from behind the bar signified the fainting of Jake, but she didn't look to make sure. "You look like you could use some company. Mind if I join you?"
Dissinger
05-08-06, 01:25 AM
As she moved about the tavern he sighed going back to his drink as he sipped it softly. She moved noiselessly yet he always seemed to know from which direction she went, for her scent wafted into his senses demanding his attention. As he could smell it getting stronger he could feel it in his veins, the overwhelming pins and needles, and the accelerated heart rate. It all coalesced in the thief as he met the doe eyes of the woman, who seemed to be holding a cup of his homelands finest.
"I suppose if you have the guts to drink that stuff, you earned a place at this table..." He said softly as he pointed at the ale in her hands. His words filtered across the room never losing potency or volume as they traveled towards her ears. He then sighed as he realized he had probably for the first time accepted company while he drank. It was an odd feeling, one that seemed to fill him with an unnerving calm.
Normally someone of the female persuasion that tried to talk with him got a purse of gold, told to pretend they had slept together, and was dismissed with a gesture from his hands. The habit dawning from the fact that he rarely pursued people, and that only prostitutes would approach someone like him. It was a conclusion that got him a few slaps and maybe a few curses. But one that left him far safer than anything else. Far better to cut off something before it started and netted him the gallows, Not that I care anymore…
Still today he could sense something different. Something was off about the woman, a veil of mystery yet to be lifted. It intrigued the thief, and bought his voluptuous partner more time while he pondered what it was that stirred in him. What would allow her the freedom to join him willingly? Surely he should have turned her away. Still that mystery, that enigma that surrounded her like a cloak, almost like the sickeningly sweet smell of lavender seemed to extrovert the normally socially reclusive thief.
Brushing a bit of hair from his face, figuring hiding his identity would not be wise he spoke frankly, "My name is Seth Dahlios. Now, I wonder what it is that would make a woman of your beauty desire a seat at the table with me there..."
"I suppose if you have the guts to drink that stuff, you earned a place at this table..."
Smiling her most winning smile, the pooka slid into the seat nearest Seth, despite and because of the unsettling feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach. Defiance of her misgivings was both a thrill and a downfall for the girl, often getting her into more trouble than she could possibly get out of. As the cool, polished oak surface of the chair took the weight of her frame off of her slender legs, she slid her shoes off in a nervous habit, letting her bare feet dangle as she pondered the man before her.
Storm-colored eyes raked over her, though she sensed he was just as unnerved as she was, though doubtfully for the same reasons. Resting an elbow on the table, she leaned her chin into the cradle of her open palm, her eyes drifting momentarily to the mug of ale she had ordered. Can't tell him I bought it for him now... Oh well, bottoms up! Lifting the tankard, she took a quick swig of the pungent stuff. Though her eyes watered a bit at the raw, thick flavor, she did not sputter, spit, or otherwise show her distaste. She simply swallowed, set the mug down on the scratched and worn table, and let go of the handle, content to never drink anything like that again.
Seeing movement from the corner of her eye, she looked back into the now hair-free face of the man, his eyes meeting hers directly. A shock bolted through her body, further testing her resolve, as he spoke his name. "My name is Seth Dahlios. Now, I wonder what it is that would make a woman of your beauty desire a seat at the table with me there..." Smiling a bit shyly at his compliment, she dropped her eyes for only a second before locking them with his again.
"Nice to meet you, Seth. I am Lady Abigail of Egypt." This being her most used introduction, it rolled from her tongue like honey from the comb. "And I joined you simply because of all the tables in the room, yours seemed the most interesting. What is a man such as you doing drinking alone in a place like this?" A delicate brow arched slightly, almost challenging him to answer, her eyes twinkling like the sea on a sunny day, a testament to her inner mirth. Behind her, unnoticed, the door swung open, a familiar face scanning the tables, and trouble brewing on the horizon.
Dissinger
05-18-06, 03:39 AM
He snorted softly in mirth at her question. It wasn't one he often heard, but one that he figured need not be asked. Surely she would have known something about the Lavinian Thief; however, as it seemed she did not he would have to explain. With a bit of a smirk he sipped his ale as he pondered how best to explain his preference for drinking alone. He knew the official reason, but was it enough of an explanation? He hoped so as he sighed sipping his drink.
"You could say it’s more out of people keeping their distance. I'm not exactly one of those guys people like to sit down at a table with and begin drinking. Might have been all the stories about me floating around. Still, its refreshing to see someone try to break the mold from time to time, knowing full well who they're dealing with," He said frankly.
He then lowered his eyes before he said, "I was also looking for someone, can't seem to find them no matter where I check. They’d probably be sitting where you are if I had found them already..."
He then lifted his gaze to Abbie. She seemed to be a bright girl, far smarter than she might let on to the casual observer. Perhaps it was this that intrigued him, he didn't know, but now that he had begun to get wrapped up in the veil of mystery, until he could tear it away and look underneath, he would keep going. With a smile, a rarity for the thief, he offered a gauntlet covered hand, "I believe that takes care of the introductions. So then, what do you want to talk about?"
Letho spent the remainder of his shift in a wait that only prolonged the time he was bound to his place in the courtyard. That was the nature of such state of mind, of all such states of mind. If you were in a hurry to get somewhere, you were bound to encounter a thousand and one obstacle on the road. If you were longing to be somewhere else, the time you spent away from it lasted a lifetime. And he most definitely wanted to be somewhere else. Goat’s Head Inn was the place, and if he was lucky enough, he could work his way into Room 12 with the sizzling frolicky redhead that turned a tedious job into sweet anticipation. It seemed an eon ago since somebody enflamed such interest in the grumpy swordsman, a lifetime ago since somebody smiled at him and inspired a smile on his visage. In reality, it was about a week ago, when Myrhia nearly stabbed him to death and rightfully turned her back on him. He didn’t blame her, but if there was one thing he learned from the former slave girl, it was that a man had to move on. And this nameless red-haired fox seemed like a good restarting point.
The time was oozing away like frozen molasses. After the redhead departed and he got a lesson from none other then the Grand Marshal himself – something he would talk about for years afterwards and a story that Myrhia would hear so many times, she would know the words by heart – the only moment of interest was when a really menacing-looking mutt strayed into the yard. He sniffled his way to the nearest tree, marked it with his urine, and then fled with tail between his legs once he saw Letho make a move towards him. And the day drifted away at snail speed with the sun that seemed in no hurry to descend from above his head.
Once his shift finally arrived – a young looking blonde lad who seemed to be taking his job as a sentry a bit too seriously, talking about how it was a great honor to protect those that run their great realm or some such patriotic rubbish – the sullen swordsman wasted no time. The evening was descending around him like a mist and with each passing minute his chances of meeting the lovely girl were fading away. Luckily, the Goat’s Head Inn was located in the vicinity of the Government District of Radasanth, resting safely on the very outskirt of the high society part of the city. It was a wise choice, albeit a bit pricey, but it certainly attracted the clientele with hefty amount of coinage in their pockets.
“Shame about such horrible name though.”
He was standing before the tavern after only one wrong turn in the mazelike streets, surveying the rather lofty exterior and hearing the sporadic murmurs from the interior. The tune creeping through the doors was some flowery expression of mirth, silent yet highly irritating, but Letho stepped inside irregardless, hoping for the best but expecting not to find the beauty from earlier that day. A smile dawned on his face once he noticed that his regular pessimism failed to be right in this instance. Because she was there alright, twice as luscious in her black dress that clung to her curves greedily, and yet leaving just enough bare flesh to attract a man’s eye as if it was drawn by a fishhook. Perhaps that was why he failed to notice that it was Seth Dahlios that she was sitting with until he practically reached their table.
“Seth Dahlios. My, my, my. Citadel became too crowded?” Letho spoke in a rather bland tone. There was no enmity between the two, but they weren’t exactly at such terms that they would be buying each other drinks any time soon. Seth wasn’t responsible for Myrhia leaving him, but he had his sticky fingers in that deal all the same. It was enough for Letho to keep him at safe distance. Not a friend, not an enemy, but something in between.
“Miss, is this knave bothering you?” he politely bowed to the gorgeous vixen, lowering his head courteously and offering a mild smile. “You dropped this during our encounter earlier, by the way.” the swordsman added, placing the room key on the surface of the table.
Abbie sat silently through Seth’s explanation, the sadness of the tale drawing her lovely features into a frown that had melted many hearts. It was the most sincere expression she’d worn in years, though for the time being it went beyond her notice. Poor guy… I wonder if it’s his lover he’s missing? I almost want to help him, but… I should keep to myself. Despite her thoughts, she found herself biting her tongue, wanting badly to offer her services in finding the lost.
Though his hand stretched out to hers and she could hear his voice, his words did not register over the din of her thoughts. Glittering tears stayed motionless, pooled in her jade eyes as her small, velvety fingers wrapped over the metallic gauntlet he offered her. Smiling encouragingly at the thief, her thoughts turned toward oaths she could speak. “Who is she? The one you’re – !” The physical interruption of the guardsman she had encountered earlier that day drove the breath from her body in a gasp that was heard several tables away.
“Seth Dahlios. My, my, my. Citadel became too crowded?”
They know each other? Confusion and curiosity threw the sadness from her features, though the unshed tears lay waiting at the corners of her eyes, forgotten. There seemed a tension between the men, though she would likely never understand it, or even get the chance to ask. Great, what do I do now? Despite her wonderings, she knew that she needed to come up with some kind of excuse, and fast. Last he saw me was outside the ball… Something about a cousin… But how in the name of Baast did he find me?
“Miss, is this knave bothering you?”
“No, he’s been quite welcoming.” The lie was mild, his behavior having been standoffish and questioning at best, but it was enough. “And he hasn’t even accused me of trying to steal anything.” Following the barb, her left eyelid closed momentarily in a wink, her smile returning in her slow, sultry way. Turning toward Seth, she let her full charm shine through, her eyes seeming only for him as she held his gauntlet. To an onlooker, it would seem as though Letho were the ex-lover, trying desperately to regain the attention of the lovely woman in the middle of a rendezvous with her new beau.
“You dropped this during our encounter earlier, by the way.”
Metal on wood drew her eyes downward, and there on the scratched, half-polished surface of the table was the key she’d lost. Her mouth drawing into a small ‘o’, the pooka wished desperately for it to just disappear. Well, at least now I know how he found me… What else can possibly go wrong? Looking back at the thief across the table, then toward the soldier, Abbie knew she’d dug one hell of a grave. The swinging of the door opening yet again went unnoticed.
With her left hand, she reclaimed the tiny metal object, smiling faintly at it and the irony of the moment. “I should give this back to the inn keep.” Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the barmaids helping him up, his legs wobbling uncertainly beneath him. “Well, maybe when he’s feeling better. Did you come all this way to drop off my key? Or were there more pressing matters on your mind?”
Dissinger
06-16-06, 12:15 PM
"Seth Dahlios! My, my, my. The citadel became too crowded?"
The words tore into the thief's mind as he knew all to well the voice that accompanied them. Letho Ravenheart, member of the Corone Rangers, and a long time...acquaintance of the thief. As he sighed he looked to meet the hazel eyes of the warrior before he shot back, "Even killing loses its edge Ravenheart. Then again surely you know that, surprised you made the trip out here. I would have expected you to have combed Serenti by now for...what was her name again?"
With those words he looked at Letho defiantly in the eye. He knew damn well what her name was, but if Letho was going to take pot shots at him, he felt obliged to fire his own ammunition back. Grabbing his glass of Lavinya's bitterest brew he sipped it in silence not even bothering to say much more. He knew he had paid an eye for an eye, and so he merely sat there trying to just drink himself under. Liliana was so far away, he couldn't reach her anymore. The intangible dream, what he had once pursued whole heartedly, but as the months passed on, reality became a hope, and a hope became a dream, and a dream became a nightmare, until he could hardly stand to think of her.
He sighed softly as he ran a tired hand through his hair and took another sip of his ale greedily. Setting it down on the table he looked at the interaction between the two as he snorted softly. It wasn't that he believed chivalry dead, far from it. It was more that he didn't fit into the warrior’s moral code that Letho draped around him. It was antithesis to everything Seth was, much like his thief's code was against everything Letho was.
As he waited for things to continue on he sighed as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead upon a hand. Right now, he almost wished he had done his usual and brushed the girl off. Having to put up with Letho half inebriated was not his idea of a good time. Then again there was that veil of mystery about her, and it was something he wished to peek under almost as much as he was sure the men wished a peak under that dress.
There was an archetype that irked Letho to the point that he developed an aversion towards it and the two before him fit the profile to the T. It was rather simple actually. You enter a bar. You track down the prettiest girl parading around. The guy next to her was bound to be the vilest scallywag in the room. It was like an anomaly of the universe, how the nice girl always wound up with a man whose hobbies included murder, torment and an occasional leisurely massacre. Not to mention parricide that seemed to be the latest fad. Letho considered of countering Seth’s counter with the mention of this latest fad, but decided against it. Badmouthing and dick-measuring was never the approach that could win a girl over. Still, he had an ace up his sleeve.
“I did.” Letho finally replied, keeping hostility at bay as he spoke with trained indifference. “And, unlike some, I didn’t waste my time seeking her at the bottom of a mug.”
The swordsman didn’t know if the sizzling redhead understood what he was implying to, but he was certain that Seth got the message. Liliana was as much of an open wound to the rogue as Myrhia was to Letho. Both girls were lost to them, both of them sought a way to get them back, and right now the inability to keep their women at their sides seemed like good weapon for their little jousting competition. However, the bitter jab was as much attention as Letho wanted to waste on Seth. There was something significantly more important in the proximity, significantly more easy on the weary brown eyes of the dark knight.
“No, I reckon he wouldn’t accuse you of stealing, miss. That would make him somewhat of a kettle that called the pot black.” he spoke in a slightly softer tone, his eyes catching the teasing wink that she fired at him. Her face was a vision, untouchable and standing just out of reach, at a distance that her philandering kept constant no matter how much you tried. She was the kind of a woman that could keep a man on his toes for days, weeks even with something as simple as an enticing smile.
“Actually, the key was more of a mean to an end. It led me here so I could ask you something that I didn’t get a chance to ask back there in the courtyard.” Letho replied to her question in a regal, dignifying voice worthy of a prince that still somehow managed not to sound frigid. It took a lot of time to get the coldness out of his voice, as Myrhia knew all too well, because all of Savion royalty seemed to be born with a broom up their ass. But Letho succeeded in eliminating this idiom. As if to verify that the question wasn’t about something like missing jewelry from the manor, he allowed a minute smile to creep on his visage. “I wondered would you do me the honor and join me for a glass of wine? That is, if your company isn’t already reserved.”
He showed no competitive intentions when he spoke this. He knew well enough that being bullheaded and annoying got you nowhere when it came to women, so he opted for a more subtle approach, allowing the gorgeous girl to make the call. A true gentleman knew a no when he saw one and if there was one thing Letho liked to cling to from the days spent in the court, it was the fragments of his refined idiosyncrasy. Just in case she did pick Seth over him, he added: “And if it is, I hope that I could at least get a name of the beauty that killed the dullness of my day.”
As the men squabbled over some rivalry that apparently included the women in their lives, Abbie simply sipped the ale she had already decided to detest. After all that had happened, a little alcohol was definitely in order. Already her mind was swimming, the horrific brew sinking into her thoughts and scrambling them. Warmth spread through her limbs, and she suddenly discovered immense fascination in the touch of her own hands. Running her slender fingers one hand over the other, she reveled in the silky softness, the warmth of the flesh. The sensation traveled throughout her, causing her mind to translate the feelings into a semi-erotic touch. Suddenly tingling in places that she hadn’t paid much attention to in the past, she turned her bright eyes to the men around her, seeing them in a new light.
They’re both pretty sexy, in their own ways… Not sure what I’d do with two, though, let alone one! Ooo… Letho’s visage became fuzzy around the edges as she looked at him, a testament to the pooka’s poor constitution. He was speaking to her, she realized slowly, his words a world away to her ears. After a moment of rather thinking that felt like a stroll through fresh tar, she was able to piece this together into coherent sentences. Tingles of pleasure rolled through her spine along with them, the sensual timbre of his voice counteracting her previous distaste with the idea of consorting with what she deemed ‘the enemy’.
“I wondered would you do me the honor and join me for a glass of wine? That is, if your company isn’t already reserved. And if it is, I hope that I could at least get a name of the beauty that killed the dullness of my day.”
For a moment, she could not think or say anything, the physical overtaking what little mental she retained. “Abbie,” she finally stammered, a soft blush creeping along her exposed flesh. Lifting her glistening jade eyes to his own dark chocolate orbs, she was unaware of the lust that conveyed itself to him through her expression. Regaining a small reserve of control, she smiled widely at him, revealing even rows of white teeth. “I don’t know if I should be drinking more, though. I had some of this stuff Seth was drinking, and I think it might be affecting me a little…”
Her voice trailed a bit as her gaze returned to the Lavinian. His rugged features, his tortured eyes called to her, making her wish to nurture and protect him. So strong was this new emotion, she started to get up from her seat, eyes locked on target. Her legs weren’t land-worthy, however, and she tangled them up in the chair, her small frame sliding from it to the floor. More dizzy than before, she was dimly aware that her nerves were not registering any pain. Staring up toward the ceiling, she noted the number of items stuck to the bottom of the sturdy table and decided not to investigate their origins. “Ouch.”
Anyone's game now, boys. Just post when you're ready.
Dissinger
08-02-06, 02:05 PM
Seth was just nursing his drink now, and with Letho around he didn't feel like finishing it. It was the period at the end of the day, the way for him to relax and forget for a little while that he had failed. As he remained silent for once in his life they had a little talk, before she turned eyes on him. He shuddered slightly as he looked into them, he saw something there, and was confused. It almost looked like the look Liliana used to give him when he was hurt, down on his luck. The look his mother would give him when the nightmares made him cry.
He averted his gaze as she began t get up, before she fell. He immediately cringed as he got up from the seat with an abruptness that let the chair slide a good foot or two back. As he moved around the table he carefully placed a hand on her shoulder as he said softly, "Are you alright? Gods damnit that stuff isn't light..." He was kicking himself for not warning her. It was obvious that the drink had affected her and he felt a deep guilt over the fact that he had inadvertently hurt yet another person who was only trying to help. It seemed to be a pattern in his life.
Trying to help her up he said, "We might want to stick with water and bread for now, try to dilute that stuff, its got kick..." He said as he was mentally cursing himself out, how could he be so stupid. It was obvious the girl wasn't the type to drink, he should have seen that. However, through the haze of guilt he never once stopped to wonder what was going on in him. No one ever got this close on the first day, let alone less than an hour with him. Perhaps it was the alcohol; perhaps it was that veil he wanted so desperately to tear away.
Perhaps it was the guilt that he didn't let himself feel until he was at the bottom of the tankard.
Yet here he was trying to be normal for once, and be human. It was something that had he chosen to reflect upon, surely he would have been confused. All that he knew at that moment, was he didn't want to hurt another girl who was only trying to help; he had already done that too much.
((Apologies for the holdup and the possible suckiness due to the delay.))
The redhead – that finally identified herself as Abbie – was a fickle dame indeed. For a moment Letho thought that he saw genuine interest in her eyes, a spark of fondness that made her emeralds more vivid. But then, mere seconds afterwards, the girl diverted her look from him and aimed it at the Lavinian. The swordsman tried not to get rattled by this irresolution, but his insides had a mind of their own, allowing jealousy to emerge as the dominant emotion for the time being. Letho didn’t let it surface, concealing it behind his ever-stoic mask of impassiveness, but it was there, peering at Seth from the corner of his mind, trying to split the thief’s head like a melon.
So caught up in the inner struggle between keeping his cool and making a fool out of himself because of some sassy skirt, Letho was unable to prevent Abbie’s tumble. Once it happened though, it was rather obvious what was going on here. Clearly, Seth was trying to get the girl drunk by offering her what was arguably the strongest beverage around. The shrewd bastard probably waited for this moment to happen so he could help her to her room and then proceed to take advantage of the poor lass. They were all the same, Letho knew, rouges and bards and thieves, they all searched for a shortcut to the score, regardless if it was a rich man’s safe or some tail. Even before he became a lawman, the swordsman heard countless stories that started like this and ended with a sobbing maiden that woke up robbed of both her virginity and her possessions. Granted, petty larceny was probably below Seth, but given his detachment from Liliana and his rep sheet, getting a lass drunk just so he could bed her seemed just enough up his alley by Letho’s reckoning.
So when Seth leant towards Abbie in order to help her, Letho knew it was his duty to stop this charade. He moved forwards abruptly, his hand catching Seth’s by the wrist and yanking it away from the fallen redhead.
“You scheming bastard.” the swordsman spoke once he released the Lavinian and managed to put himself between him and the redhead. “Getting an innocent girl drunk like that. It would’ve been sad if it wasn’t disgusting. I suppose you wanted to help her up to her room as well. Back off, scoundrel!”
Inspired by jealousy and the rivalry that seemed to stand between the two of them every time they met, the words that Letho directed to Seth were acerbic. The fact that he might’ve wrongly accused the thief never even occurred to the swordsman as he helped Abbie to her feet and ushered her into one of the chairs. Her eyes seemed glassy and out of focus, her body limp and barely managing to remain properly seated in the wobbly oaken chair. The patrons that previously kept their eyes locked on their drinks and their minds focused on their own business slowly became more intrigued by the trio that seemed to be taking over the main stage of the [I]Goat’s Head Inn[I].
“Is this the only way you can get a woman nowadays, Seth? Deceiving her like some petty criminal? You should leave now.” And as if the coldness of his voice wasn’t enough to emphasize the seriousness of the moment, Letho added: “And that’s an order.”
Dissinger
08-12-06, 02:56 AM
Seth's eyes closed as he felt red hot rage enter his frame. When they opened they locked front and center on the chivalrous knight. He couldn't believe the words that escaped Letho's mouth, but there they were garish and ugly. As he longed to pull his daggers he instead decided a warning shot was in order, Ravenheart overstepped his bounds today, and Seth would be loathe to letting it pass. As he brought his gauntlet around in a vicious backhand he spoke tersely, "I may be a Demon, but that doesn't make me a rapist you pompous bitch."
As he completed the maneuver he turned to face Letho as he spoke his words enraged, "I may have destroyed what little my family name meant, but I refuse to be seen as one of those sewer scum. You think I would do that to her? After all that I did for you in Serenti? I would say take your orders and shove them up your ass, but I think that'd be too tight to fit." He was now pointing a finger right at Letho as he felt his anger rising, words were whispering their way into his ears. Words of power that would have him wipe the floor with Ravenheart. The tension of the situation making Seth long to hit Letho with Sin Harvest, to make all the wrongdoings of the marshal known to everyone as it cut and tore into the man.
Still that wasn't his intention; his intention was to get Letho to lay off him. No matter how much good he did, it was idiots like the marshal that kept him as public enemy number one. He thought for a moment that Letho would be different, that perhaps the entire ordeal in Serenti would allow him to fix whatever dislike Letho had of the thief. However, the more things change the more they stay the same. When the day was over, Letho was a prejudiced bastard.
He had dealt with their ilk all his life, at sixteen he was a traitor, at twenty-five he was a murderer, and at twenty-six he was a demon. They labeled what they couldn't understand, but he had made the mistake of thinking Letho different. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the pangs of guilt he still felt over Abbie's situation but he turned to grab his gear as he spoke, "I'm sorry Abigail, it seems I've worn out my welcome here, try to help someone and get the law up your ass. Just goes to show you, some people have no appreciation for those they consider lost causes."
Sarcasm dripped at that last word as he slung the pack over his shoulder. Looking briefly at Abbie he sighed as he grabbed his drink and downed it quickly before he slammed it down quite harshly on the table, the rage and irritation towards Letho showing and making a few of the more nosy patrons jump. As He turned to go he stopped as he sighed and reached into his wallet and dropped some gold on the table, more than enough for both drinks, "Seeing as how you bought that I figure I should at least help recover your losses. Hope you get through the Marshall's skull better than I could."
(I figure we've about hit meltdown on the rage-o-meter here...)
If there was one thing that Letho learned from his encounters with the infamous Lavinian, it was that Seth had a tendency for long, quasi-righteous tantrums. He was always right, everybody else was wrong, and behind every mischief that he did, there was a perfectly justifiable reason. According to him at least. It was not his fault that he was a murdering lowlife. The voices made him do it, this alleged Demon that took control over him and did the dirty work. And while Letho witnessed the transformation and the emergence of this demon in Serenti, the situation was different now. Now, there was a woman at stake, and when men have a quarrel over women, reason and thinking have little to do with their actions. So all that the Marshal saw in Seth right now was just another portentous rascal with a delusion of being better then he really was.
The slap surprised him though. Frankly, he didn’t think that the Lavinian would have the guts to oppose him, not in his town, not when explicitly commanded to leave the premises. The backhanded strike was audible enough to attract attention of all present, snapping Letho’s face sideways before the vindication continued. And it seemed to serve as an ignition for the short fuse that was getting shorter by the second. Letho retrieved his frowned face to the proper position, but didn’t counter immediately. He let his anger accumulate, listening to the spoken words that mostly got filtered out by his current state of mind, and waited until Seth made his move for the door. Once he did, Letho’s hand caught him by the shoulder, spun him around and fired a punch at his jaw.
“How’s that getting through your skull, you bastard?” the Marshal spoke after the strike was done. He proceeded to take off his weapons, discarding them on the nearby table. This was going to be a fistfight and the clientele of the tavern knew it as well, most taking their drinks away from the proximity of the possible reckoning. The bartender wanted to say something to the pair, something about how he’d get in trouble with the actual proprietor if he let this transpire, but his voice got stuck in his throat. Letho cracked his knuckles, waiting for the thief to get back on his feet.
“You refuse to be seen as sewer scum? You should’ve thought of that before you started to murder your way to fame, starting with your own parents.” Letho spoke, his keen eyes locked on the rogue. He didn’t see Seth though. Or rather, he saw him and within him a personification of every rotten knave that used murders and lies and deceit as a common tool. It was unfair to the Lavinian, but there was always a pyramid or morals and values in Letho that wasn’t always in sync with the real world. And while countless times before his run-in with Seth he was introduced with the fact that everything was not black and white, this contest for the redhead that was currently kayoed reinstated the old template in his head. And Seth was once again bad, and he was good. It was easier that way. It was easier to deal with just a pair of opposite colors then the countless shades of gray.
“So don’t preach me of some sudden benevolence, Seth. Your benevolence always comes at a cost for those around you. What would’ve been Abbie’s cost?” Letho continued. He wasn’t just giving the thief a piece of his (rather deluded) mind right now, he was taunting him, goading him into a fight. Because their strife in Serenti was left without a conclusion and now seemed like the ripe time to write the final chapter.
“Now, fellows. If you have some issues, it would be best...” the innkeeper tried to do the diplomatic thing, not so much for the sake of the pair that was about to face-off, but for the sake of his establishment. Letho’s curt words cut him short.
“This ought to cover any damages.” he spoke, not taking his eyes off Seth while taking out a rather hefty money pouch and throwing it on the counter. It was a clear message that he wanted to take Seth on here and now, in front of the girl that he coveted and tried to mislead.
Dissinger
08-14-06, 12:24 AM
Seth turned to go before he was spun around and a haymaker punch form the marshall hit him square in the jaw. Immediately all his forward momentum became backwards as he gripped his jaw feeling for certain that something in there had broken. Blood pooled in his mouth as he closed his eyes and heard the words that were unforgivable. Seth had tried to make penance for his sins, but so long as loud mouths like Ravenheart were aloud to continue speaking on his behalf, it would never come.
Spitting blood flavored spit upon the floor her growled as he pulled himself up and spat, "You sanctimonious son of a bitch. You have no idea what happened, so unless you are a telepath stay the fuck out of my past." His jaw hurt for certain but he aggravated the wound further as he spit again on the ground the red saliva hitting the ground before he looked Letho in the eyes, his own burning with a simmering hatred. It wasn't that he hated Letho, it was that he loathed the man.
He couldn't forgive those he trusted.
He couldn't forgive those that spoke of his parents, pretending that Seth had gleefully pulled the knife across his father's throat, that he had killed his mother with a sadistic smile and serene composure. They didn't deserve to be disgraced by such farsical words, and as he clenched his hand into a fist he began to reach for the knives on his belt, he longed to draw them, to make the marshall pay.
Until he saw the other man drop his weapons on the table. It was clear what was expected of him, and without a second thought the dagger belts joined the growing pile of weaponry, followed by his gauntlets and further his vest. Pulling his shirt open to reveal he was in fact unarmed he spread his arms out before he spoke, "You could have just let me walk away, but we both know we're too stubborn for that. So, any rules or we just fight till one of us dies?"
He was dead serious, but he did it for another reason, he needed to get his rage out. It would only simmer until something happened that made it explode, here he could be certain that if he needed to, he could pull back and heal his wounds. He knew a straight up fight with the brute wouldn't work, but he wasn't out for blood, no, he was out to knock some sense into the oaf. He was done killing, and that was the truth, he couldn't stand killing while knowing his victim had a family, friends, a wife and kids. He just couldn't stomach the killing anymore.
However, that didn't mean he wasn't above a bit of wood shedding to resolve an issue as glaring as Letho's betrayal...
The dead parents issue was a chord that shouldn’t have been struck. Letho knew it was a tale much more intricate then the usual murder, a confusing web from which Seth still couldn’t untangle himself. But when insults were exchanged with a distinct intention to hurt the other, people often paid little heed to their weapons of choice and Letho was no different. Right now he didn’t care about the backstory. The pissing contest was getting out of hand in a hurry and he wanted to spite the thief regardless of the cost. It was his pride speaking, the damned thing letting go of the chivalry and courtesy and embracing the anger instead. He wanted to fight Seth, and hurt Seth and ultimately defeat him.
“Same old Seth. Always out for the kill.” the swordsman commented, taking off his leather coat and throwing it on the nearby bar. He followed Seth’s example, opening up his dark green linen shirt to show that there was no armor beneath it. There was need for any of his equipment anyhow. This was going to be a good old-fashioned beating after which the Lavinian would be taken to the closest infirmary.
The interior of the Goat’s Head Inn was silent save for the two preparing combatants. Abbie was conking on one of the chairs, her sizzling figure hunched forwards as she rested her head on the table surface. She was the only one in the vicinity that was completely serene though. The remainder of the patrons either scooted to one of the corners of the unremarkable common room or paid their bill and fled through the front door. They were clearing the stage for the pair, creating a rather domestic arena that would certainly be turned into shambles in the nearest future.
“Rules? Rules are for pansies.” Letho finally said, a touch of malice appearing in his smirk. His hand reached out for the edge of one of the rustic, heavyset oaken tables and showed against it, sending the piece of furniture airborne effortlessly. The massive thing spun almost in slow motion in Letho’s eyes, taking the pair of mugs and three glass bottles on the direct crash course towards the Lavinian, with the table following a fraction of a second afterwards. It was a mere distraction, the first drop of the river of collateral damage that the pair was bound to bring, and it was something Letho knew Seth would evade rather easily. That was why the follow up came immediately afterwards.
Letho charged forwards less then a second after the launched table, traversing the distance in a handful of swift strides before launching a shattering roundhouse kick. The attack wasn’t aimed at the rogue’s head though. Instead the horizontal arc brought his foot at Seth’s shoulder and with enough strength in it to send the bastard flying all the way to the corner of the room where several barflies stood huddled, holding to their drinks as if it was their life that was within the murky liquid. The bartender – that greedily collected the money pouch – disappeared behind the thick wooden barrier, hoping that the fighting remained on the other side of his bar.
Dissinger
08-17-06, 02:30 AM
Seth watched as Letho spoke of throwing the rules out the window, until he saw the table fly at him, along with three men's drinks. His eyes darkened as he saw the table and easily got out of the way. As he looked for the follow-up he knew was coming he saw the kick and blocked high. Surely Letho would try to end it early and dominate the thief to prove his superiority. He was a simple man, beat thing till thing doesn't fight back. It was a simplistic strategy befitting what he conceived as Althanas’ chief barbarian.
How wrong he was...
As the kick connected with his side he was sent flying into the wall, sailing by patrons as they fled out of the way. A few of them seemed to be placing bets and following the first true blow of the fight, it was clear that Seth was the underdog. However as he got up he wiped the blood from his lips as he looked at the crimson colored hand, then at Letho. His next few words were spoken rather light heartedly, not at all befitting of the situation, "Wanna sip? Let me quench your thirst..."
Letting the man ponder what the hell Seth was thinking he grabbed a glass as he rushed forward and swung the glass forward before he jerked it back, the liquid finding no resistance on a crash course sure to drench the man's face in liquor. That done Seth whistled despite the pain as he tucked his foot under a chair and kicked it up, using the distraction time to grab the wooden instrument of demise. He then grinned as he swung full force, sending it right at the back of Ravenheart. He was grinning now as he said, "Have a seat, you're through..."
Years from now, he would look at those words and still laugh at the corniness, and further, how far from the truth they were...
To the eyes of the spectators, Letho’s strike that introduced Seth with the sturdiness of a nearby wall should’ve been enough to end the strife. After all, it was so fierce, so effective, so eye-catching, that it simply had to incapacitate the thief. But Letho knew better. He compared Seth to a weed once, the kind that managed to find a path through the cracked pavement, the kind that you couldn’t exterminate easily. The Lavinian had the persistence of an animal, that kept lifting him up when he by all accounts should’ve stayed down. The swordsman recognized it ever since he first met Seth. How couldn’t he when that same stubbornness was a part of his idiosyncrasy as well?
Unsurprisingly, the thief extraordinare was back on his feel almost instantly, wiping the blood from his face and advancing once again. His attack though, was something that Letho certainly failed to foresee. He raised his left to block the glass from shattering against his face, but instead of something coherent, a murky alcoholic beverage passed through his block and splashed against his face. A mighty strong beverage as well. His eyes failed to close in time and the liquid set his retinas ablaze, making him stumble backwards, temporarily blinded. By the time his fingers tried to brush away the aggressive fluid from his eyes, Seth attacked again.
“Have a seat...” the Lavinian said. “You’re through...”
Letho’s mind had just enough time to recognize the cheesy taunt as the one he used in Serenti (when he nearly crushed Seth with a wooden pew) and then he was struck from behind. A chair crashed against his back, the solid oak snapping and at the same time sending the swordsman stumbling forwards blindly. His foot caught a chair leg, forced him to lose his balance and fall flat on his face. Well, not exactly flat. On his way down, Letho’s face connected with a table edge, overturning it and cracking his skin open just above his left eye.
“You bastard! That’s my line! Come up with your own.” he grumbled as he pushed himself up to his feet, disregarding the pulsing wound on his forehead. His vision was back to an extent, still a bit blurry but focused enough to ascertain the situation. Seth was several feet in front of him, basking in his quasi-wittiness and the results of his cheap shot, but Letho’s eyes were soon diverted to a shabby wooden column that stood even closer then the thief. The swordsman didn’t see a wooden pillar though. What he did see was a giant club that would serve nicely in the trouncing of Seth Dahlios.
“Here, let me add you to the collateral damage.” Letho said, sending a sweeping strike at the foot of the column. The collision nearly broke his leg – the bloody thing was made out of oak – but it did the job, breaking the pillar near the floor. Letho’s inhumanly strong hands grabbed the makeshift weapon, yanked it out of the slot that kept it pinned to the beams that supported the roof, and swung it at Seth fiercely. Before the column ever got close to the thief though, it plowed through two tables and half-a-dozen chairs, sending a throng of debris in Seth’s direction as well.
Dissinger
08-18-06, 02:15 AM
Seth was shocked when instead of Letho down and out, ready for him to raise his hands in victory; Letho merely swung his foot around. Further was the crack that made him jump back, before the brute picked up the beam that he tore out of the roof. He had not expected the rather ingenious use of the tavern as a weapon. Things were heating up, and suddenly the prospect of grabbing his knives looked ever the wiser.
As he brought his arms up to defend he looked at the stark white forearms and cursed as the debris hit him, cutting skin and the beam connected, pinning his arms against his chest before bringing him around. No, the beam did not send him flying like a rock a kid would hit with a stick, he stuck to it as he hunched over it and was brought around before he slid off it into the wall with a sickening slap and a groan. Seth felt more pain, this time from his ribs as he groaned again and lulled his head.
Opening his eyes, his world was blurry as the pain was nearly overwhelming to the point of bringing tears to his eyes. A wet cough could be heard through the area as he sat on the ground, a few of the tavern goers actually starting to pity the Lavinian. Seth was tempted to grab the Gift of the Magi, but was in too much danger, with too many innocents around, and so he did the next best thing...
Gripping the side of a table he pulled himself up upon it, groaning the entire way as he clutched a nearly full tankard. Much to the surprise of the crowd, this tankard didn't become another projectile but was quaffed with the efficiency only a good drunk could appreciate, as a bit of the strong mead trailed over his cheeks, cleaning a bit of the blood. Coughing up a fit as he slammed the tankard down he felt the alcohol relax his muscles and the pain lessen as he grinned.
With his blood flowing truly from the adrenaline amongst other things he was an alert drunk, but drunk none the less. With the combined effects of his ale and the newfound drink he shuffled to his feet, finding purchase as he turned and faced the ranger. A roguish grin lit up his face as he said, "Still standing Ravenheart..."
He then coughed up spitting blood on the ground for the third, but surely not the last as he wiped his mouth providing more blood to cover his hands. He chuckled at the blood as the men quickly vacated their seats; abandoning their drinks and paying the bill on their way out, the few brave ones were now positioned on the other side of the windows watching with keen interest the duel.
Looking around he saw a table, far to heavy for him to lift, unlike his ever strong counterpart. He did however find various utensils upon the last of the remaining few intact tables and gathered them up before he said, "However, unlike every other person you've fought, you won't find me so willing a victim..."
He spun as he drunkenly threw the various utensils at the Ranger, before he looked at the table. It was then he saw the true folly of his attack. It surely would do nothing more than irritate the big man as he hadn’t thrown a single pointy instrument of finer dining, no. They were all spoons.
There was a serious malfunction in the Lavinian, a short circuit in the neurons of his brain that ultimately forgot to warn him when was the right time to give up. The improvised cudgel struck the thief, not exactly knocking him away but rather taking him along for the ride. A rather short ride. The momentum of the shattering strike ultimately sent him into the wall for the second time tonight, making even Letho think that there would be no continuance of the battle. But instead of remaining stationary in the newly formed heap of rubble, Seth pushed himself up again, spat out some blood and seemed ready for another round of clobbering. The few remaining patrons stared wide-eyed, astonished that somebody could take such a hit and still be able to stand on his own feet.
But the Lavinian didn’t only get up, he took it a step further. His hand swiped a rather large mug from the table and, as if he was in the middle of a drinking contest, the thief downed it almost casually. It was a foolish move, Letho thought. If there was one thing that didn’t belong in a battle, it was alcohol. It dimmed the wits and clouded the eyes and that wasn’t the kind of remedy that Seth needed right now. And yet the bastard grinned. He coughed up some more blood, wiped it off of his face and chuckled as if he was in control.
And then he attacked. He collected the utensils from the nearby table rather vigorously and then, after another feeble taunt, he let them fly at the swordsman. One after another, the shiny tin objects were rifled towards Letho who dropped the wooden beam and got both of his arms up, shielding his face with his forearms. He expected a knife or two stabbing at his flesh, maybe even a renegade, strangely sharp fork, but all of the objects ricocheted of his skin harmlessly. After dropping his guard and casting a look at the ground, he saw the reason for the inefficiency of the attack. Scattered before him were crummy looking spoons. He grinned almost mischievously, looking at Seth with an almost mocking expression.
“So that was like your grand finale, Dahlios?” he said, interlocking the fingers of his hands and making them crackle in a clear announcement of the trashing that was about to follow. It was pretty clear that Seth was on the ropes, and while that certainly didn’t mean he was down and out, Letho was pretty confident that there was no way the rogue could win.
And then the roof fell on his head.
Without the wooden pillar to ensure the structural integrity of the tavern, the wooden beams gave way under the weight of the roof. The wood cracked silently at first, then simply snapped and brought almost half a building down on Letho’s head. So when the ruckus of the collapsing stopped and the bartender dropped the gold sack that would clearly not cover the damages, the swordsman was pinned underneath over a ton of rubble. Letho tried to breathe, but his chest was flattened against the hardwood floor and couldn’t expand. Luckily, his hands found a firm foothold, and pressing against it with all his might he managed to procure just enough room to breathe.
Getting out of the mess was an altogether different story. He couldn’t just lift half a building with just his arms, no matter how strong he was. But thanks to the lack of coherence of the debris, he could lift a part of it just enough to gradually make his way forwards. So he pushed with his hands, crawled an inch forward, then lay down on the ground again to gather enough strength and breath for the next attempt. In such a dishonorable manner he made his way out of the rubble and by the time he saw the light of day again – that was now visible through the hole in the roof – he was as spent as a horse after a day’s worth of riding.
Once free of the burden on his shoulders, Letho conjured just enough energy to push himself back on his feet. He wavered a little bit, searching for the balance that seemed to evade him, and finally found it once he grabbed onto the bar. He first ascertained where Seth was. But in the sweep he did with his eyes, scanning the interior of the tavern, he passed over the table where Abbie was sitting. And she was gone. He thought that his vision was still hazy from the impact, but after shaking his head, he was certain that the table where he put her – that was luckily not in the part of the inn that collapsed – was vacant.
Letho sighed audibly and cast another glance at the Lavinian. “The girl is gone.” he said, and then his strict face broke into a smirk. “Should we call it a tie again?”
Dissinger
08-19-06, 03:35 PM
Seth watched in horror as his makeshift weapons bounced harmlessly off the skin of his opponent. Further was the problem of dealing with a rather hulking brute of a man, drunk and further more still fresh. Seth had thrown everything but magic at the brute and was half tempted to, only to see perhaps the most comical return of the marshal. As a sound of a crack could be heard the roof began to cave, right on the man.
Seth stood there for the longest time. He blinked in disbelief that he could have such good fortune. As the marshal began to crawl out he saw parts of the roof arch up and shuffle forward before resting again. He was delirious; there was no way this could at all be happening. Letho Ravenheart, pinned under the roof of the very building he had destroyed in a rage? It was just too much, he simply couldn't believe it.
He laughed hard, falling flat on his back as he coughed. He merely stared through the hole in the ceiling as his laughter rang out through the tavern. As he finally calmed down Letho emerged from the wreckage just laying on the ground before he spoke of calling it a tie. More chuckles escaped Seth's lips as he closed his eyes a smile on his face. Perhaps tonight hadn't been that bad.
"I'm drunk, I can't find my daggers, and I don't have the strength to properly kick your ass. I'm guessing you don't have the strength to properly kick mine either, what the hell, draw it is. Maybe we can collect the pot those barflies started..." Seth said as he chuckled before he closed his eyes. Clutching the Gift of the Magi he groaned as he felt bones pop into place and fuse. Cuts closed up on his skin, and further more the alcohol made its way straight for the nearest exit as he rolled over and began to vomit.
He coughed between vomits much healthier as he retched a mixture of magic pride and alcohol. When he finished he wiped his mouth and said rather bitterly, "Tastes even worse on alcohol, last time I drink and fight..."
The truth was that neither of them was too tired to continue this senseless face-off. They could both push the envelope, turn it up and notch and make things more serious. Seth would go for his hex magics, Letho would respond by reaching for his weapons his transformation, and suddenly a sound beating would turn into a game of death in which the collateral damage probably wouldn’t include just inanimate objects. It would be Serenti all over again, two beasts charging at each other and oblivious to the futility of the fight that seemed mandatory only minutes ago. It would be mere flesh grinding and ultimately an overkill. Today they both wanted to hurt each other on the inside and they were too blind to see that their words did the trick even before this pissing contest. Even the drunken redhead most likely saw it and decided she didn’t want to be a part of it.
So when Seth acceded to Letho’s proposition, it was basically the smartest thing both of them did the entire day. Fighting over a girl and getting personal about it... They acted like schoolboys unable to control their testosterone. It was clear even to a stubborn piece of oak such as Letho and he reckoned it was clear to the Lavinian as well. But hindsight always was twenty-twenty. And now that the swordsman looked at it, he recognized the fact that he should’ve kept his cool about the whole deal, regardless of how much Abbie looked like Myrhia and how lonely he was. It was wrong to speak with bitterness, bringing up some issues that struck the heart in the most wretched of ways.
Letho maneuvered his battered body to one of the barstools and sat with a sigh. Unlike the rogue, he couldn’t use the fancy razzle-dazzle to heal his wounds. They weren’t many, mostly just bruises and a cut above his eye, but it was enough to give him that disquieting sensation that was always a harbinger of a headache. His hand reached towards the other side of the bar – much to dismay of the petrified barkeep – and swiped one of the bottles of hard liquor. Letho didn’t care which one. They were all poison and he needed a bit of it in his system right now. His other hand swept the plaster and the dust from the bar, then retrieved one of the clean jiggers. The swordsman filled it up, then looked at Seth and procured another one, filling it up as well.
“Well, we’re not fighting anymore.” he said, pushing the shot glass to the vacant spot next to him before downing his own. “You know, Dahlios, for some reason you always give me a splitting headache. I mean, what are the odds that in all of Radasanth taverns and all the girls that laze around in them, we eye the same one?”
Letho downed another, feeling the aggressive alcohol burn its way to his insides like acid, then poured another. Behind his back, a piece of roof that seemed to be hanging by a thread for a while, detached at crashed into the rubble, but only the innkeeper and the several patrons noticed. Instead, the swordsman tried to reminisce on what exactly caused him to act like this, but he was too tired and too keen on getting drunk to care anymore. At this point in his life, Myrhia was gone and the one girl that he could actually see as her substitution he chased away by his chest-beating antics. He recognized one thing though; Seth didn’t deserve all that badmouthing.
“Either way, I owe you apology.” he said, not looking at the thief, but rather examining the semi-transparent liquid in his glass. “I’m not saying you’re going to get it, I’m just saying that I owe you one.”
It was as far as his pride would yield, the semi-admittance of his inappropriate conduct. Seth would probably make a joke out of it, but this whole afternoon was a jest that went from bad to worse from the moment he entered the Goat’s Head Inn. As it was now, Seth and he were bound to stay at the same distance, not friends, not enemies, but acquaintances that just disagreed on a lot of issues. And Letho was pretty certain that both of them were fine with the status quo.
Dissinger
08-21-06, 03:42 AM
Seth remained on the ground for the longest time. He was resting and gathering his energy before Ravenheart pulled himself atop the bar. With a grunt and a sigh he pushed up off the ground, tiredly moving to the bar before he collapsed against it a tired smile upon his face, akin to the roguish grin he once sported years ago. As he looked at the drink that was passed he shrugged before he downed it quickly. His mind reflected on the words that he had spoken.
"I was only trying to pickle my body in bad drink Ravenheart, guess the girl thought that was interesting ‘cause she came with a cup of my homelands bitterest. I guess I was so far gone I didn't shrug her off like I normally would, probably because I was too busy with thoughts of losing my own woman," He said softly. Grabbing the bottle he poured himself another one as he placed it back before the marshal.
It was then he spoke of apologies. He pondered that one as he wanted sobadly to hurt Ravenheart before. He knew he could have countered back with Myrhia, could have truly cheap shot, but something in him, call it his humanity, had stopped him. Instead he drew the line in the sand, and part of him was thankful for that. If the situation had escalated further, there would have been many worse things to deal with than a magically repaired rib and nearly shattered arms.
Closing his eyes as he nursed his drink he pondered what to say. Finally when he spoke his words were tired, as world weary as he felt, "Perhaps I needed them. Every now and then I need a reminder why I have to keep trying to atone. You owe someone an apology and so do I. I figure if you want to wait, you can till I give mine to her. Till then I guess we'll all be in debt one apology."
Downing the drink he sighed as he slipped from the stool, "Thanks for the drink Marshal, now I must get out of here before your boys in blue decide Ranger of Corone or not this demon's got to hang. I'd say best of luck with the little lady, but I figure I'd only jinx you. Till next brawl..."
With those words he carefully searched the room before he procured most of his equipment. Throwing it in his satchel he shouldered it before he put on his cloak and pulled the hood up and headed out. As he made his way quickly he made efforts to head to the port. He needed to move on, Corone had gotten too small for his tastes. Perhaps Alerar or Revan would be a good place to simple relax and unwind.
Seth always did talk too much. He kept elaborating on apologies and somewhere after the second sentence, Letho didn’t really pay attention to it. Everybody owed something to someone these days. Sometimes it was as simple as money. Sometimes it went beneath the superficiality of the material. And the Marshal was in pretty damn deep either way he looked at it. He owed the barkeep quite a sum for thrashing his tavern. He owed Seth and apology, probably owed one to Abbie as well. He acted like genuine jerk today and all because he had this hole deep inside of him that he couldn’t quite fill regardless of how he tried. He thought Abbie might help, but that obviously wasn’t meant to be. What other warning sign do you need then a Lavininan Demon standing in your way?
Though he would never officially admit it, the infamous Seth Dahlios, thief extraordinare, the one and only Lavinian Demon was a better man today. He fought because he was provoked, whereas Letho fought because he simply felt he should establish authority and prove his dominance, like the alpha male of the pack. He thought that the reason was Abbie, but the true reasons ran much deeper. Somebody smarter and less drunk then the Marshal would recognize that the battle against Seth was Letho’s alternate way to redemption. He couldn’t fight for Myrhia anymore, so he wanted to fight for somebody else, somebody that looked like the willowy redhead, that had the same emerald eyes.
“No. Not the same.” his mind reprimanded him harshly. “None will ever have such beautiful eyes like my Myri.”
He then turned to the bottle in front of him. If the fact that Seth Dahlios was the better man on this occasion wasn’t a good reason to get shitfaced, then Letho wasn’t certain that there was a good reason. The booze wouldn’t chase away his reminiscing that always led to Myrhia, the Marshal knew. If anything, it would amplify his melancholy and bring forth the bottled emotions. He knew that because he tried it already and the witnesses said that he kept yapping over and over how none was as pretty as his Myri. Today he felt it was a good time to relive the events from the VIP lounge of the Piston’s Pleasure Place. So he kept milking the whiskey bottle, much to dismay of the innkeeper that didn’t know whether to rat on the drunken Marshal or just stay where he was in order not to elicit the wrath of the titan.
Luckily for the barkeep, by the time Letho got to his second bottle and started to drift towards more sedate mumbling, a platoon of Radasanth Guards marched in through the front door of the inn. The Marshal saw them, two dozen of them on a rather fuzzy background, and took another draught from the bottle before struggling back to his feet. His right found the handle of the gunblade and the two dozen in front of him recoiled in pairs.
“Easy there big guy. You don’t want to fight us.” the two captains of the guards spoke in what seemed like ridiculous sync to the wasted swordsman. “You probably see double.”
Letho fished out his bastard sword from the rubble, brandishing it in his left hand. “I have two blades, one for each of you twins. Now bring it.”
And then he fell onto the dusty hardwood floor like a lifeless corpse.
((SPOILS: Due to the massive damages to the tavern, Letho loses 600 GP (100 that he gave to the barkeep and another 500 that the guards took off his lifeless body to compensate for the damages).))
Sighter Tnailog
08-21-06, 08:18 PM
Quest Judging
Break It Down
INTRODUCTION ~ 6. The "bustling Radasanth at noontime" (BRAN) introduction is getting a little bit old hat. Heaven knows I've done it more times than should be legal, and I've seen it done by many others. This wasn't a bad BRAN opening, but it was still BRAN. An extra point for the way you introduced characters in mid-quest, though, as opposed to all at once -- that's something I'm seeing less of these days. Work on coming up with new ways to introduce characters -- what if you desperately need that mince pie, but it's pouring rain and none of the vendors are out?
SETTING ~ 6. BRAN. What can I say? Once again, good BRAN is still BRAN. But I must admit that the mentions of flavors and textures in the city, made mainly by Abbie in her opener, was worth reading...that was a pretty good case study in how to write setting -- bonus point!
STRATEGY ~ 7. You attacked each other with utensils! Other than that, though, it was pretty normal.
WRITING STYLE ~ 7. Keep working on those extra words, Letho: "He...fell...like a lifeless corpse." LIKE a lifeless corpse? At that point, wasn't he a lifeless corpse? The word "like" is used when the comparison intends to show that something is similar to something, but is not actually that something. That's just an example of the way things should be parsed.
RISING ACTION ~ 5. One thing I liked was the constant thought that Bohemia might show up again towards the end as a fourth wheel -- but, other than that, the Rising Action seemed to deliver less than it promised. Men fighting over women is an old theme, and to make it work you have to find a fresh angle -- an angle I felt was lacking.
DIALOGUE ~ 6. This was okay, if a bit hokey.
CLIMAX ~ 8. I must admit...having the roof fall after the two had stopped fighting was pretty brilliant. Now that's the climax I like to see!
CHARACTER ~ 7. You stuck to character -- but your characters, at this point, sometimes seem to be up to business as usual.
CONCLUSION ~ 6. I liked it, but not having everyone around hurt you again here. It's as if Abbie forgot to notice that people were fighting over her...or the place she was staying fell to shambles. You couldn't help this, though, so I didn't dock a ton of points.
WILD CARD ~ 6. Keep working at it. You've all had better days.
TOTAL ~ 64
EXP REWARDS
Rewards based on formula, except for Bohemia, who deserved far less than the formula's result, and GP changes in Letho's case.
Abbie gains 600 EXP!
Bohemia gains 200 EXP!
Letho gains 4490 EXP!
Dissinger gains 4080 EXP!
GP LOSSES
Letho loses 600 GP
OTHER SPOILS
While getting the gold off of Letho, one of the guards slipped a small golden key into his pocket. The key cannot be destroyed or sold, and if Letho is to go inactive I request you find someone trustworthy to give it to. PM me with questions.
Zieg dil' Tulfried
08-24-06, 12:45 PM
EXP added! Letho levels up! Dissinger levels up!
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