The Tiefling's Tales
-
ChikenKannon
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 1268
- Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2006 10:34 am
- Main Player Character: ------
- Other PCs: Haven't touched these in ages:
Lok'Tok
Lorne Mearesworth
Mars Benedict
Cpl John Mackev
Gutsnikk
Lorne Xavier Sunderson Falderhouse Skulltickler Mearesworth
Oronar - Location: Somewhere over the rainbow
-
Lord Zhengyi
- Dasarian
- Posts: 162
- Joined: Thu Feb 22, 2007 3:44 am
The sun baked down on the tiefling’s purple skin, drying and cracking her exterior in various places as the rough bumps and creaking wood of the old wagon wobbled along the trail. The sound of clopping horse hooves and shifting gravel woke her from a long and disorienting sleep. Her face grimaced in pain as soon as she tried to move, and the sun temporarily blinded her the moment her eyelids opened. She raised a hand over her face to block the sun, and a shooting, ripping pain shot down her ribs, causing her to grunt in agony and abandon the idea.
Her eyes slowly adjusted as they darted in every direction. To her right she could see the back of a man’s tunic as he sat at the front of the rustic wagon, snapping a set of leather reigns against the backs of two very large horses. Two her left was a rocky and uneven trail scored with parallel trenches left by the wagon’s large wheels. Lucy blinked a moment as she tried to regain her bearings. Her memory of her recent escape from the woods was foggy at best, and to wake up alive was not something she expected, nor was she remotely prepared for it.
She rubbed her eyes slowly, letting out another agonizing grunt. She knew she had several broken bones. Much of her body felt swollen and difficult to move. She glanced down at her legs, one of which was harnessed in a makeshift sling crafted from two planks of wood and a piece of rope. Her head was resting on a foul-smelling burlap sack, and she had several cloth bandages tied tightly around various part of her body.
“Aye, Thomas, I think she be wakin!” came a raspy woman’s voice.
Lucy slowly turned her head to the right, shifting her gaze to an elderly woman wearing ragged clothing. She was missing several teeth and chewing on some sort of root with large smile.
“How ya feelin deary?” the woman asked.
“Where am I?” Lucy mumbled.
“Ya be on th’back o’ our wagin, silly gal! Ye been outs fer days, doncha know!”
Lucy groaned as the reality she was alive became increasingly apparent in her mind. It wasn’t a situation she was pleased with. She’d accepted death with open arms at the bottom of the ravine, and for some reason, the gods had decided to play a cruel joke on her by forcing her to survive. True, her demonic blood made her slightly more resilient than most, but even she had her limits. She thought she’d reached them back in the shallow riverbank, but apparently she was wrong.
“I should be dead right now,” Lucy complained. “I am in horrible pain.”
“Aye, an we’s tin ya wouldna make it neithers!” the the old hag nodded. “But here ye are! We set yer leg back inta place an stopped most o’ yer bleedin. Ye should be good as new in no time a’tall!”
“What is our destination?” the tiefling inquired.
“Des-tin-shun? Ehs? Oh! Ya means where wes headed ta!” the elder replied. “Wes got no des-tin…er, no place in particular deary, wes a wanderin folk! Ain, tha’ rights Thomas?”
“Aye,” the wagon driver replied. “We gos where the winds take us. Been th’way o’ our people since th’ole times.”
Lucy listened carefully as the two summarized their way of life, their traditions, and what they expected from their guest while she recovered under their care. They seemed unconcerned at the horns protruding from her head, and more concerned over how much food she would eat, and how soon it would be before she could contribute a helping hand to the community. Looking past the couple and up the road they were traveling, the tiefling could see several more caravans ahead of them. She estimated at least a dozen families participated in the wagon convoy. Apparently, they were all musicians. They wandered from village to village, and city to city performing for local folks who would pay them for their performances. Then the convoy would pack up and head to the next town. They were always on the move, occasionally picking up new additions to their group along the way.
“Yep, wes started outs jus’ us LaVeys - me an Thomas ere, an’ our kids, Michael an’ Jasmine. Ain tha’ right hun?”
“Aye,” the driver replied, snapping the leather reigns against the back of his horses. “Theys in th’wagin jus’ ahead. Theys curious ta meets ya. None o’ us ever seen a gal with ‘orns befores. Hows ya git those anyhows?”
Lucy offered a shrug, deciding it best to leave the simple folks in their ignorance rather than confront a topic that might make them change their minds about helping her.
“I was simply born with them. I really am not sure,” she lied.
The two offered shrugs of their own and changed the subject. They rolled along for most of the day, stopping to water the horses and stretch their legs every so often. Lucy remained in the back of the wagon, shifting uncomfortably as the pain in her body throbbed relentlessly. The couple tended to her several times throughout the day, and they talked with her at length about a number of topics. Lucy assured them repeatedly that she meant none of them any harm, and eventually she thanked the couple for plucking her from certain death in the riverbed. Their kind demeanor and smiling faces changed abruptly once Lucy’s old home was mentioned, however.
“Tha’ bees an evil place, them woods,” the old woman snorted. “Aye, evil right down ta the roots! Ye bees lucky ta get outta thar’s alive. Lost four o’ our girls whiles we skirted th’edge o that place.”
Lucy’s muscles tensed momentarily, but then relaxed. She nodded and pretended to be sympathetic as the woman detailed how a wolf-like beast had grabbed them in the middle of the night and carried them away screaming.
Turning her head to the left, Lucy gazed back down the rocky dirt road.
“Mmhmm, that’s a real shame.”
Her eyes slowly adjusted as they darted in every direction. To her right she could see the back of a man’s tunic as he sat at the front of the rustic wagon, snapping a set of leather reigns against the backs of two very large horses. Two her left was a rocky and uneven trail scored with parallel trenches left by the wagon’s large wheels. Lucy blinked a moment as she tried to regain her bearings. Her memory of her recent escape from the woods was foggy at best, and to wake up alive was not something she expected, nor was she remotely prepared for it.
She rubbed her eyes slowly, letting out another agonizing grunt. She knew she had several broken bones. Much of her body felt swollen and difficult to move. She glanced down at her legs, one of which was harnessed in a makeshift sling crafted from two planks of wood and a piece of rope. Her head was resting on a foul-smelling burlap sack, and she had several cloth bandages tied tightly around various part of her body.
“Aye, Thomas, I think she be wakin!” came a raspy woman’s voice.
Lucy slowly turned her head to the right, shifting her gaze to an elderly woman wearing ragged clothing. She was missing several teeth and chewing on some sort of root with large smile.
“How ya feelin deary?” the woman asked.
“Where am I?” Lucy mumbled.
“Ya be on th’back o’ our wagin, silly gal! Ye been outs fer days, doncha know!”
Lucy groaned as the reality she was alive became increasingly apparent in her mind. It wasn’t a situation she was pleased with. She’d accepted death with open arms at the bottom of the ravine, and for some reason, the gods had decided to play a cruel joke on her by forcing her to survive. True, her demonic blood made her slightly more resilient than most, but even she had her limits. She thought she’d reached them back in the shallow riverbank, but apparently she was wrong.
“I should be dead right now,” Lucy complained. “I am in horrible pain.”
“Aye, an we’s tin ya wouldna make it neithers!” the the old hag nodded. “But here ye are! We set yer leg back inta place an stopped most o’ yer bleedin. Ye should be good as new in no time a’tall!”
“What is our destination?” the tiefling inquired.
“Des-tin-shun? Ehs? Oh! Ya means where wes headed ta!” the elder replied. “Wes got no des-tin…er, no place in particular deary, wes a wanderin folk! Ain, tha’ rights Thomas?”
“Aye,” the wagon driver replied. “We gos where the winds take us. Been th’way o’ our people since th’ole times.”
Lucy listened carefully as the two summarized their way of life, their traditions, and what they expected from their guest while she recovered under their care. They seemed unconcerned at the horns protruding from her head, and more concerned over how much food she would eat, and how soon it would be before she could contribute a helping hand to the community. Looking past the couple and up the road they were traveling, the tiefling could see several more caravans ahead of them. She estimated at least a dozen families participated in the wagon convoy. Apparently, they were all musicians. They wandered from village to village, and city to city performing for local folks who would pay them for their performances. Then the convoy would pack up and head to the next town. They were always on the move, occasionally picking up new additions to their group along the way.
“Yep, wes started outs jus’ us LaVeys - me an Thomas ere, an’ our kids, Michael an’ Jasmine. Ain tha’ right hun?”
“Aye,” the driver replied, snapping the leather reigns against the back of his horses. “Theys in th’wagin jus’ ahead. Theys curious ta meets ya. None o’ us ever seen a gal with ‘orns befores. Hows ya git those anyhows?”
Lucy offered a shrug, deciding it best to leave the simple folks in their ignorance rather than confront a topic that might make them change their minds about helping her.
“I was simply born with them. I really am not sure,” she lied.
The two offered shrugs of their own and changed the subject. They rolled along for most of the day, stopping to water the horses and stretch their legs every so often. Lucy remained in the back of the wagon, shifting uncomfortably as the pain in her body throbbed relentlessly. The couple tended to her several times throughout the day, and they talked with her at length about a number of topics. Lucy assured them repeatedly that she meant none of them any harm, and eventually she thanked the couple for plucking her from certain death in the riverbed. Their kind demeanor and smiling faces changed abruptly once Lucy’s old home was mentioned, however.
“Tha’ bees an evil place, them woods,” the old woman snorted. “Aye, evil right down ta the roots! Ye bees lucky ta get outta thar’s alive. Lost four o’ our girls whiles we skirted th’edge o that place.”
Lucy’s muscles tensed momentarily, but then relaxed. She nodded and pretended to be sympathetic as the woman detailed how a wolf-like beast had grabbed them in the middle of the night and carried them away screaming.
Turning her head to the left, Lucy gazed back down the rocky dirt road.
“Mmhmm, that’s a real shame.”
Lucy: Geez that ogre hits hard! But in some strange way, I like it...
-
Lord Zhengyi
- Dasarian
- Posts: 162
- Joined: Thu Feb 22, 2007 3:44 am
The still night air was crisp and cool, accented with the scent of wildflowers and the sound of crickets peacefully chirping. Fireflies floated aimlessly along the soft tufts of breeze that surrounded the campsite.
Lucy leaned back with her oversized mug of ale against a mossy log that had been positioned near the campfire. She closed her eyes and listened to the happy tunes of the wandering people she'd come to know as friends. They laughed and drank heartily. Some of them danced and clapped their hands as an elderly woman plucked the strings of her makeshift instrument. For the first time in a long time, she was content. She rocked her head back and forth slightly to the music and slowly began to drift into a dreamy half-sleep.
In the months after they'd found her in the ravine, the tiefling had made a full recovery under the care of these nomadic families. She'd since attempted to repay them by helping the men hunt for food, and by promising to defend the caravan if they ever fell under attack. So far, that was a promise she hadn't been forced to keep. The thought of her former master frequently clouded her mind with worry. It was a part of the story she'd never told the nomads. As far as they knew, she had gotten lost and taken a nasty fall.
A loud clapping by one of the men snapped Lucy from her relaxed state. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes to focus on an older man with a long black beard. His face was wrinkled with age, and his left cheek twitched every so often. He clutched a large weathered tome under one arm as he tried to gather the group's attention.
"It be time fer a story, methinks!" the old man wheezed. He was obviously in poor health, but he was highly respected amongst the caravan people.
With a few excited cheers the others turned their attention to him, settling in for the story he was about to tell. The old man's orations were always based on history, and usually carried some sort of life lesson, though some were merely told so certain people or events would be remembered. Lucy closed her eyes again as he began to speak, drifting off into her dreamy, ale-induced state. Before long, she was asleep.
The shouts and cries of the others woke her again. She glanced around at the others, some of whom were covering their mouths in horror. Others wore a sour expression.
"And to this day, the beast of the woods hunts the nearby communities, snatching young girls from their families to feast upon their bodies in his unholy lair!" the old man rasped. "Under the light of the moon, he is a mindless killer, bloodthirsty and savage. By day, an ordinary man, recognizable only by the large ruby ring he wears on his..."
Lucy's eyes quickly snapped down to the large ruby on her finger. Her pulse quickened, and her mind flooded with panic. She glanced back up slowly to the storyteller, who had locked his gaze on Lucy's hands.
"...finger." the man concluded.
A strange silence fell over the group. Many of them glanced in Lucy's direction, clearing their throats, or scratching their necks uncomfortably. The old man continued to stare, his face was a mask of shock and fright.
Lucy calmed herself the best she could. She knew her demeanor needed to be relaxed if she was to successfully lie her way out of the situation.
"Wha' ya'll lookin at?" she asked, glancing around at them. "My ring? Hells, my grandmother left me this when I was a babe.."
A few of the others shruged and returned to their drinks. Some seemed more skeptical. The old man remained speechless, twitching several times as he continued to stare at Lucy's hands.
"Alrigh' I think we should all turn in fer th'night" one of the LaVey's interjected.
A few mumbles of agreement rang across the group, and the crowd began to slowly rise and retreat into their wagons. Lucy glanced to the couple, who were shooting her cold gazes as they picked up their belongings in preparation for bedtime. The tiefling's eyes fixed on Thomas, the hunsband, who returned her look with a subtle shake of his head.
Lucy knew at that moment she'd been expelled from the group.
* * * * *
The first rays sun broke across the horizon, flooding the campsite with warmth as the scents and sounds of a countryside morning washed over the traveling community. A few of the group's members crawled wearily from their wagons, yawning and stretching as a new day greeted them. Two children began assembling an iron cooking pot over the campfire as two others ran to fetch water from the nearby river.
A scream rang out. Several of the nomads emerged from their wagons after what was already an uneasy night's sleep. A crowd soon gathered around one of the wagons. They pushed against one another and shouted in panic as horror and dismay decended over the community.
Inside the wagon lie the old storyteller. The pommel of a dagger protruded from his forehead. From one prong of the hilt dangled an ornate ruby ring.
Lucy leaned back with her oversized mug of ale against a mossy log that had been positioned near the campfire. She closed her eyes and listened to the happy tunes of the wandering people she'd come to know as friends. They laughed and drank heartily. Some of them danced and clapped their hands as an elderly woman plucked the strings of her makeshift instrument. For the first time in a long time, she was content. She rocked her head back and forth slightly to the music and slowly began to drift into a dreamy half-sleep.
In the months after they'd found her in the ravine, the tiefling had made a full recovery under the care of these nomadic families. She'd since attempted to repay them by helping the men hunt for food, and by promising to defend the caravan if they ever fell under attack. So far, that was a promise she hadn't been forced to keep. The thought of her former master frequently clouded her mind with worry. It was a part of the story she'd never told the nomads. As far as they knew, she had gotten lost and taken a nasty fall.
A loud clapping by one of the men snapped Lucy from her relaxed state. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes to focus on an older man with a long black beard. His face was wrinkled with age, and his left cheek twitched every so often. He clutched a large weathered tome under one arm as he tried to gather the group's attention.
"It be time fer a story, methinks!" the old man wheezed. He was obviously in poor health, but he was highly respected amongst the caravan people.
With a few excited cheers the others turned their attention to him, settling in for the story he was about to tell. The old man's orations were always based on history, and usually carried some sort of life lesson, though some were merely told so certain people or events would be remembered. Lucy closed her eyes again as he began to speak, drifting off into her dreamy, ale-induced state. Before long, she was asleep.
The shouts and cries of the others woke her again. She glanced around at the others, some of whom were covering their mouths in horror. Others wore a sour expression.
"And to this day, the beast of the woods hunts the nearby communities, snatching young girls from their families to feast upon their bodies in his unholy lair!" the old man rasped. "Under the light of the moon, he is a mindless killer, bloodthirsty and savage. By day, an ordinary man, recognizable only by the large ruby ring he wears on his..."
Lucy's eyes quickly snapped down to the large ruby on her finger. Her pulse quickened, and her mind flooded with panic. She glanced back up slowly to the storyteller, who had locked his gaze on Lucy's hands.
"...finger." the man concluded.
A strange silence fell over the group. Many of them glanced in Lucy's direction, clearing their throats, or scratching their necks uncomfortably. The old man continued to stare, his face was a mask of shock and fright.
Lucy calmed herself the best she could. She knew her demeanor needed to be relaxed if she was to successfully lie her way out of the situation.
"Wha' ya'll lookin at?" she asked, glancing around at them. "My ring? Hells, my grandmother left me this when I was a babe.."
A few of the others shruged and returned to their drinks. Some seemed more skeptical. The old man remained speechless, twitching several times as he continued to stare at Lucy's hands.
"Alrigh' I think we should all turn in fer th'night" one of the LaVey's interjected.
A few mumbles of agreement rang across the group, and the crowd began to slowly rise and retreat into their wagons. Lucy glanced to the couple, who were shooting her cold gazes as they picked up their belongings in preparation for bedtime. The tiefling's eyes fixed on Thomas, the hunsband, who returned her look with a subtle shake of his head.
Lucy knew at that moment she'd been expelled from the group.
* * * * *
The first rays sun broke across the horizon, flooding the campsite with warmth as the scents and sounds of a countryside morning washed over the traveling community. A few of the group's members crawled wearily from their wagons, yawning and stretching as a new day greeted them. Two children began assembling an iron cooking pot over the campfire as two others ran to fetch water from the nearby river.
A scream rang out. Several of the nomads emerged from their wagons after what was already an uneasy night's sleep. A crowd soon gathered around one of the wagons. They pushed against one another and shouted in panic as horror and dismay decended over the community.
Inside the wagon lie the old storyteller. The pommel of a dagger protruded from his forehead. From one prong of the hilt dangled an ornate ruby ring.
Lucy: Geez that ogre hits hard! But in some strange way, I like it...
-
Shea_EvilBane
- Commoner
- Posts: 16
- Joined: Sun Dec 17, 2006 10:26 am
- Location: Australia...lol no where better
-
Lord Zhengyi
- Dasarian
- Posts: 162
- Joined: Thu Feb 22, 2007 3:44 am
Lucy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. The salty breeze from the nearby water flooded her nostrils, filling her nose with the sweet scents of the ocean. The ships' bells rang their usual chorus, and the creaking of wood down by the docks usually helped her relax after a stressful day in the city.
Between one person insulting her and telling lies about Rhode's sincerity, to another picking Rhode's pockets and forcing Lucy to slaughter her in self-defense, to yet another frustrating excursion into the wilds, the tiefling's overall mood was growing progressively more sour. A swirl of violent and irrational thoughts clouded her mind, and she gritted her teeth with an irritated snort.
She hadn't accomplished much of late, and it began to weigh upon her mind with a heaviness she hadn't felt in some time. Coins were tight, and costs were rising. The standard adventuring gear she'd relied upon seemed to be less and less effective. Whether it was poor manufacture, or she was simply becomming accustomed to their effects was something she hadn't quite determined. Regardless, the wards were failing, and people were getting hurt - Rhode especially.
She lazily gripped the pommel of her short sword in one hand, digging the tip into one of the rooftop shingles where she crouched. Not being able to protect Rhode weighed upon her most of all. She felt weak and helpless, and she hated it. She turned her head northward, looking out over the city walls to the countryside beyond. Perhaps it was time to move on, she thought. After all, what was the point in staying if she couldn't earn a living?
Her thoughts shifted back to Rhode again. She didn't want to leave him behind. She'd left so much behind in her life already. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad fate to live a modest life as long as you are with someone. Her thoughts raced back and forth, and Lucy rubbed her forehead wearily. She was getting a headache.
She took another deep breath through her nose, smelling the ocean breeze as it rolled out of the harbor. The ringing ships bells brought a smile to her face as the sounds reminded her of the nights around the campfire with her wandering companions - up until she had to murder one of them, of course.
So much had happened since arriving in Cear. So much was bound to happen.
"I only need to be patient," she told herself. "Afterall, recompense is the birthright of the downtrodden."
With that, she sheathed her sword and sprang from the rooftop and into the shadows below.
Between one person insulting her and telling lies about Rhode's sincerity, to another picking Rhode's pockets and forcing Lucy to slaughter her in self-defense, to yet another frustrating excursion into the wilds, the tiefling's overall mood was growing progressively more sour. A swirl of violent and irrational thoughts clouded her mind, and she gritted her teeth with an irritated snort.
She hadn't accomplished much of late, and it began to weigh upon her mind with a heaviness she hadn't felt in some time. Coins were tight, and costs were rising. The standard adventuring gear she'd relied upon seemed to be less and less effective. Whether it was poor manufacture, or she was simply becomming accustomed to their effects was something she hadn't quite determined. Regardless, the wards were failing, and people were getting hurt - Rhode especially.
She lazily gripped the pommel of her short sword in one hand, digging the tip into one of the rooftop shingles where she crouched. Not being able to protect Rhode weighed upon her most of all. She felt weak and helpless, and she hated it. She turned her head northward, looking out over the city walls to the countryside beyond. Perhaps it was time to move on, she thought. After all, what was the point in staying if she couldn't earn a living?
Her thoughts shifted back to Rhode again. She didn't want to leave him behind. She'd left so much behind in her life already. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad fate to live a modest life as long as you are with someone. Her thoughts raced back and forth, and Lucy rubbed her forehead wearily. She was getting a headache.
She took another deep breath through her nose, smelling the ocean breeze as it rolled out of the harbor. The ringing ships bells brought a smile to her face as the sounds reminded her of the nights around the campfire with her wandering companions - up until she had to murder one of them, of course.
So much had happened since arriving in Cear. So much was bound to happen.
"I only need to be patient," she told herself. "Afterall, recompense is the birthright of the downtrodden."
With that, she sheathed her sword and sprang from the rooftop and into the shadows below.
Lucy: Geez that ogre hits hard! But in some strange way, I like it...
-
Lord Zhengyi
- Dasarian
- Posts: 162
- Joined: Thu Feb 22, 2007 3:44 am
The dim candlelight flickered throughout the small stone room, casting just enough light to outline the small wooden writing desk placed against the far wall. Around the perimeter shadows twisted and danced as the flickering light source shifted in the faint breeze passing across the waxy stump. A slender hand dipped a finely made quill into a tin inkwell, tapping the tip on the desk’s worn surface. With a smooth and delicate font, the quill began dancing across the page.
“Dearest Rhode,
I am alive and well. My journey here was rather uneventful, save for the misfortunes of two travelers I care not to discuss. First let me apologize for my carelessness. I truly believed I had left every trace of my past behind on the long, bumpy road that led me to Cear. When I first arrived there, it was never my intention to stay for very long. I am sure you know by now why those plans eventually changed. Packing my bags once again was something I found far more difficult this time, however I think it is better this way. Remaining in Cear would only place you in danger, and that is the last thing I want. It is my hope this situation can be resolved quickly, though I doubt one dead body will be the sum of this menace. I plan to commit all my energy to somehow finding closure.
In my absence, I will write when the situation permits. Please allow time between letters, because they pass through many towns before reaching you. I think my location is best left untold, for it is bound to change several times anyway. If you need anything during my hiatus, talk to our fellow. I have entrusted him with a few hundred emperors and given him clear instructions to follow.
I am counting the days until I can return home to you. Please stay safe, and know that I am thinking of only you.
Love,
Lucindra
P.S. – If you even look at another woman while I’m away I will plant a mace in your jewels.”
“Dearest Rhode,
I am alive and well. My journey here was rather uneventful, save for the misfortunes of two travelers I care not to discuss. First let me apologize for my carelessness. I truly believed I had left every trace of my past behind on the long, bumpy road that led me to Cear. When I first arrived there, it was never my intention to stay for very long. I am sure you know by now why those plans eventually changed. Packing my bags once again was something I found far more difficult this time, however I think it is better this way. Remaining in Cear would only place you in danger, and that is the last thing I want. It is my hope this situation can be resolved quickly, though I doubt one dead body will be the sum of this menace. I plan to commit all my energy to somehow finding closure.
In my absence, I will write when the situation permits. Please allow time between letters, because they pass through many towns before reaching you. I think my location is best left untold, for it is bound to change several times anyway. If you need anything during my hiatus, talk to our fellow. I have entrusted him with a few hundred emperors and given him clear instructions to follow.
I am counting the days until I can return home to you. Please stay safe, and know that I am thinking of only you.
Love,
Lucindra
P.S. – If you even look at another woman while I’m away I will plant a mace in your jewels.”
Lucy: Geez that ogre hits hard! But in some strange way, I like it...
-
ChikenKannon
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 1268
- Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2006 10:34 am
- Main Player Character: ------
- Other PCs: Haven't touched these in ages:
Lok'Tok
Lorne Mearesworth
Mars Benedict
Cpl John Mackev
Gutsnikk
Lorne Xavier Sunderson Falderhouse Skulltickler Mearesworth
Oronar - Location: Somewhere over the rainbow
-
Lord Zhengyi
- Dasarian
- Posts: 162
- Joined: Thu Feb 22, 2007 3:44 am
Storm clouds drifted across the horizon as tiny gusts fluttered the amber locks that cascaded over the tiefling’s slender shoulders. The moonlight glittering upon the ocean cast a reflection like so many countless stars above, and the sweet scent of ocean mists filled her nose with every breath. Ships’ bells rang quietly from the docks under the rising and falling of the dark harbor waters. It was quiet now. The city was asleep, and only the drunkards, thieves, and other citizens of questionable character roamed the cobbled streets at this hour. This was her favorite time of day. The early morning hours just before sunrise had always filled her with a calming sense of serenity. It was a time when her thoughts could flow freely, like the clear, cold currents of a mountain stream. It was a time when she could reflect. And most importantly, it was a time when she could lurk by herself under the cover of darkness and apply her trade.
Lucy’s fingers ran through a pool of gems inside a cloth sack resting near her feet. They sparkled brilliantly as they tumbled across her dexterous hand, clicking against one another in a glorious sound she had almost forgotten. It brought a smile to her lips. She gazed out across the horizon once again as her thoughts turned to Rhode. It was the second time she was forced to leave him, but this time she found it much easier than before. Lucy knew in heart there was no future for them. Rhode was not someone she could trust, and likewise, he would be a fool to put his trust in her. Something told her that he would never leave his home, not even for her, and so she didn’t even bother to ask. It was easier that way. Life is full of so much pain. Why create more by debating the inevitable?
The ship’s bells rang out again as the breeze picked up across the city docks. Their tune was familiar, yet warmer - more welcoming perhaps. Lucy had already collected more gold from this town in one evening than she had in the past 60 evenings in Cear. Whether it was the never-ending flood of novice adventurers picking the place clean, increases in security, or both, Cear had become a barren quagmire that offered little in the way of opportunity. Her new locale was fresh and ripe for the taking. Even better still, no one there knew her. Tomorrow, the townsfolk would awaken and be completely oblivious to her presence. That was how she liked it. There was safety in being unseen, and success brought satisfaction. With a quick twist of string, the cloth sack was tied snuggly and then tucked inside her belt. A second later, she was gone.
((Take care everyone.))
Lucy’s fingers ran through a pool of gems inside a cloth sack resting near her feet. They sparkled brilliantly as they tumbled across her dexterous hand, clicking against one another in a glorious sound she had almost forgotten. It brought a smile to her lips. She gazed out across the horizon once again as her thoughts turned to Rhode. It was the second time she was forced to leave him, but this time she found it much easier than before. Lucy knew in heart there was no future for them. Rhode was not someone she could trust, and likewise, he would be a fool to put his trust in her. Something told her that he would never leave his home, not even for her, and so she didn’t even bother to ask. It was easier that way. Life is full of so much pain. Why create more by debating the inevitable?
The ship’s bells rang out again as the breeze picked up across the city docks. Their tune was familiar, yet warmer - more welcoming perhaps. Lucy had already collected more gold from this town in one evening than she had in the past 60 evenings in Cear. Whether it was the never-ending flood of novice adventurers picking the place clean, increases in security, or both, Cear had become a barren quagmire that offered little in the way of opportunity. Her new locale was fresh and ripe for the taking. Even better still, no one there knew her. Tomorrow, the townsfolk would awaken and be completely oblivious to her presence. That was how she liked it. There was safety in being unseen, and success brought satisfaction. With a quick twist of string, the cloth sack was tied snuggly and then tucked inside her belt. A second later, she was gone.
((Take care everyone.))
Lucy: Geez that ogre hits hard! But in some strange way, I like it...