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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| Something Wicked This Way Comes; for Bael | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 20 2009, 01:38 AM (179 Views) | |
| Freya LaShale | Jun 20 2009, 01:38 AM Post #1 |
Love Thief
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Along the outskirts of the capital city, bad company gathered. Eldahar was home to many sorts, and most of the shady ones slept as far away from the kingdom's soldiers as possible. Many of the nobles called them street rats, scum. They pictured them as people without faces, sneaking everywhere like a mold, creeping quietly with nothing but ill intent and seedy laughter, which was completely untrue. On the contrary, living the impoverished life did many odd things to a person's outlook on life. One could become an optimist just as likely as a pessimist. However, tonight the bonfire was surrounded by the types of vermin that didn't chuckle darkly, but instead laughed in joy at the ridiculousness of one another's lives. This was where you would find her. She was being tossed around from one partner to the next, swinging to the rhythm of gypsy music, as she had completely eclipsed any other females present. All eyes were on her hips, the way her body fluidly rolled in the flickering fire-light, and the mesmerizing smile on her face, but nothing about her was as exciting as her eyes as they gave time to each and every fellow on the scene. They all felt a little bit special. They all were feeding off her merriment, creating their own. It was safe to be happy here, after all. One could only imagine, considering, how unexpected it was for a fellow thief to come dashing into the party with his mouth agape as if someone had pulled it from its hinges. His eyes were wide, and a trickle of sweat fell down his forehead. The music stopped. People muttered, wondering, as he fell to the feet of an elderly woman, authoritative in nature. "What's wrong?" she asked sharply, laying a soothing hand on his matted hair. Once the commotion died down a little, Freya stood, observing the scene in nothing but curiosity, tilting her head subtly to the side. "It's a demon, Ma!" he choked out. "Moghul sent a demon after us! I-I dunno, but... I think it's headed this direction...!" "How do you know it's a demon, Child?" she inquired patiently. "Because! It... it just was! Even tha' lizards were runnin' away! I-it's got some kinda... makes tha' air heavy, hard ta breathe... I-I dunno, I jus' know I damn nearly pissed my pants!" A small group surrounded the scene, and the red-head could no longer make anything out. She glanced back in the direction the man had come dashing from, half frightened she might turn to see Death itself, but no. Only the dark streets of Eldahar at night ...yet... she could feel... something unexplainable... "I suggest we scatter," she added in a cool, normal tone. "I'll hang around to see what's out there." "No, Freya! Come with us!" "Hah, I was about to leave anyway. Go on, you guys." Hesitantly, things were gathered, the streets were cleared. The gypsies would not leave this predicament to chance. If there was even a slight possibility of some monster coming after them, they hid. If they didn't, they would not have survived this long. Unfortunately - or fortunately - she was not a gypsy, and most of the time, her sense of intrigue was far greater than her common sense. So instead of hiding, she stood out in the open, still watching over her shoulder amidst the burning flames of the background. |
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| Rohriel | Jun 20 2009, 01:58 AM Post #2 |
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The ground was covered in blood. Bandits, rebels. Any that came to fight. Durandal flew through the air, cutting entire men in halves with only a glance of the blade. Armor did little to stay off her assault. Those brave enough to challenge the Lord Bael were quick to fall; without advantage, they fell by the hand fulls. And not just the man himself, but those that accompanied him - a full legion of Morrim's best. Under orders from the Empress herself, he was tasked with aiding Ashoka with their particular 'problem'. Orders were orders, even if Bael wanted nothing to do with these people. Still, he pushed forward, out ahead of his men. They knew the routine, keep defensive, allow the demon to clear a path to the heart. Each were veterans, each knew their roll. Only none could tell what held them back these days. Was it loyalty, or fear? Another body slid off the blade of Durandal, her wielder uncaring for the life as it left its host. If one was to take up arms, they must be prepared for the inevitable outcome. Ever forward he strove, hacking, slashing, and destroying those that met his call. Most ran. Good. They would live longer. He could feel the over-sized warhorse he rode upon breath, tasked as it was to remain in control of itself with the rider's presence. Still, the mount almost relished in the fight. The blood was a sweet reminder of its training, concentrate, and it had no need to fear. In many ways, the Horse was just as tainted as her owner. With the path ahead clear, Bael rode forward. The echo of shoed-hooves resounded against the buildings of the empty street, foretelling of his approach. At first only a glint of steel was seen, but soon the armor followed. The helmet was always the most striking feature. The very image of a demon, red eyes glared out from beneath a singular slit, the rest darkness. Horns rose from the sides, just as sharp as any weapon, and the rest of the armor? Why, from a distance, there was no man atop that horse. Even close, still, no human lived within that steel. The distant flames licked at his back, an omen to the ever approaching form of death. And what was this? Bael's mount came to a slow halt as he pulled back on the reigns. A single woman stood, in stalk defiance. Interesting. Intrigued, the man walked his mount forward. When he spoke, his voice filled the night with a dark chill, metallic and distorted in tone. "Clear the way, m'lady, 'lest you wish to engage in combat. I would advise otherwise," Strange words from the maw of the monster himself. "Please, this is no place for courage." Edited by Rohriel, Jun 20 2009, 02:14 AM.
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 20 2009, 02:26 AM Post #3 |
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Love Thief
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As the aforementioned beast emerged from the darkness, it was the first time she could remember swallowing down a bit of fear. Never in her entire life could she recall such an intense feeling. It was true, what the gypsy had said. It was difficult to breathe. Freya could not see his eyes, save for the glow that surrounded them, but somehow she knew exactly when he'd begun to look at her. It felt as if her head was being drilled through... but she stayed her ground, fingering the handle of the whip at her side. When the mount arrived before her, she forced the dread off of her chest, staring up at him in bold rebellion as a smirk spread across her full, pink lips. Inside, the only room she had emotion for was pure, unadulterated, electric excitement. "No, Sir. This is not courage. This is curiosity... and maybe a lil' bit of stupidity," her arrogant smirk changed so easily into a lop-sided grin, as if she brought him good tidings of an old friend. "...Or..." she continued whimsically, "...maybe it's a distraction!" The red-head spread her arms out in a large, swooping gesture. "Could be! Could be... that I just don't want to be anywhere else at the moment! That I like this spot. It's good for standing. Desert nights are cold, and there's a fire here big enough to warm me. And how far would I have to walk to clear your way? Will this do?" The woman took an exaggerated step directly to the right. "No, but I'm serious..." she began again, swaying her weight onto the opposite foot as she held a finger to her perfect lips. "I'll break you a deal. Show me your face, my Lord. Give me a name, and I promise to cause you no more trouble. You never have to see me again ...that is, unless you want to..." Quietly, her steps carried her around his mount until she stood beside his right leg, glancing up at him every other moment through messily-worn tresses of crimson. "You are a man on a mission..." she cooed silkily. "I understand that. But... I would never forgive myself if a rare creature such as yourself escaped without getting... something... from you." She placed a hand on the side of the steed's neck, her fingernails trailing through its short hair, gently stroking. "Your face. ...May I?" |
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| Rohriel | Jun 20 2009, 02:45 AM Post #4 |
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Bael's gaze latched onto the woman. She was alluring. Beautiful. Exotic. Red hair? He never encountered such a thing; alight like a fire, her every movement was like a chill down his spine. Her presence calming, her words soothing. Bael almost found himself lured in, put off guard. Were he still fully a human, he would have been clay for this woman to mold as she pleased. As she came close - perhaps her mistake - his 'other' senses took over, instead of sight, he now saw her through another means. She breathed, she lived, and his mind screamed at him to collect an offering. Her life. As always, he calmed such thoughts and brought himself back to reality. She spoke an awful lot. Still, he let her finish, should she wish to stall, she would deal with a legion of bloodthirsty men. At that point, it was no longer his problem. Yet she was intelligent enough to not fight him directly. Smart. None of her weapons would avail her in a direct conflict. He considered the woman's words, mulled them about in his mind before he even bothered to respond. His eyes continued their focus, never once leaving her form. "Clever." The singular word was steeped in darkness. "Back away, m'lady." He lowered the massive blade in his hand, bringing the tip inches away from the woman's face. "You are intelligent enough to not fight me, yet I hope you keep such intellect about you and keep your word." One hand was free, with his shield beside him on the saddle. He reached up and grabbed the helmet, removing the demonic visage and revealing his face beneath. The grey skin was hardly human. His eyes, there was nothing but the glow; that red, piercing gaze that struck fear at a whim. Bael would be handsome, if not for the aforementioned features, and even for the scar that reached from his forehead, past his left eye, and down to his chin. A warrior through and through. The mount grunted as she was stroked. The contact was unwelcome, but the rider held her at bay. For now. "There. Now, clear the way. Unless you feel yourself a challenge for an entire Legion." The distortion had vanished, instead replaced by a deep, low base that radiated strength. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 20 2009, 03:03 AM Post #5 |
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Love Thief
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Such coldness. At the tip of his blade, she obediantly - a word not commonly used when referring to this firecracker - took three steps back so that he would give her what she desired from him, a small price to pay for never having to deal with her antics again. Most could only dream of being so lucky, and then most likely second guess themselves and wonder which way was actually better... Revealed, she blinked, her eyes growing a bit wider, but not in fear. The smile on her face broadened, stretching as far as it could. What he had been hiding was, in her opinion, something he should feel ashamed of covering up with a giant helm. He was gorgeous! Well.. in her twisted sense he was. After a good moment of being lost in oblivion, obviously staring like a moron that had just witnessed the largest, fullest banquet table in existance, she coughed into her gloved hand, clearing her throat. Like lightning, her right hand moved, and like thunder, a black whip snapped up into the air, screeching through it like a warbird to lash around his now exposed throat, just below the jawline. Secured, she gave the leash a tug with strength that ought not to have been able to come from her feminine figure, but it happened. Heels dug into the dirt, it happened. She plucked him right off of the back of his horse. "Once again, you assume! This is not ignorance now, my Lord!" she beamed. "This is just fun! Regardless of what happens to me, I live - however brief - with the knowledge that I just did that to you! Haha!" She jumped to where he fell, placing a boot on either side of him, standing above, looking down, with the whip wrapped around her forearm. "Ehh... you probably don't share my sense of humor, huh?" she frowned, reaching her free left arm down to offer him a hand up. Truthfully, there were no negative feelings. It was simply that he had challenged her, and she couldn't just back down from that... Freya only had to at least get one up on him, but she wasn't so greedy as to go for two or three. "Sorry. You're probably really busy right now ...and angry." Edited by Freya LaShale, Jun 20 2009, 03:18 AM.
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| Rohriel | Jun 20 2009, 03:37 AM Post #6 |
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Bael had not expected that. In fact, he was secure in the woman's docile behavior. That was his first mistake. He felt the whip as it coiled around his neck and knew that his indulgence had cost him. The mount stayed steady as the rider was drawn down. His massive girth resulted in a loud crash, with the steel of his armor digging into both his back and the ground. He merely grunted when he collided with the street. The pain, to him, was barely perceptible. He lay there, angered now, but admitting of his errors. He watched as the woman came closer, felt her once more, felt her muscles tense, her movements. Bael looked up at the woman, though his eyes portrayed no emotion. How could they? With a sudden burst of movement, the hulk of a man reached out with a inhumanly strong grasp and grabbed a hold of the woman. He pushed himself up and tightened his hand around her neck. His hand was so large in comparison that it barely fit. With his massive strength, he brought himself back to his feet while he lifted the woman off the ground. The glow of his eyes intensified, mimicking that of a raging fire. Even the aura became stronger, all of it amplified with his anger. "However brief indeed." His voice was acid. The deep, powerful tone overwhelming. "Do not think me a fool, girl, your death would trouble me no more than the others I have slain this day. I'm sure your humor doesn't accompany you being crushed until your lungs collapse." With that, Bael released his hold on the woman and allowed her to fall to the ground, just as he had. The aura lost it's intensity, and his eyes lessened back to their initial glow. Calmly, he recollected by the helmet and sword, which he had dropped, and placed the demonic item back on its rightful place. He sighed, audibly, his will diminished by the encounter. What sort of monster had he become? His eyes. They were becoming worse. "You are a strange woman." His voice was distorted once more, yet he sounded weary from within the armor. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 20 2009, 03:58 AM Post #7 |
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Love Thief
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She began to become quite comfortable in her position on top of him. She could certainly get used to this, she mused, adoring his face which was now much closer for her to inspect. That scar - the urge to run her index finger along it was so tempting, to stick her face right into his and look right into those burning eyes, as if she were looking at him scientifically through a microscope, just observing. Her body began to move as she gave to her impulses, but was caught not a second before she had made her mind. Oh, so this is what it was like to be choked again. She'd almost forgotten. Freya couldn't do anything, her body paralyzed as her hands flew to the wrist which held her captive, but wince in pain. But she didn't struggle... She instead accepted whatever he was planning to do to her. If this meant death, than so be it. She ought to die for a joke anyways. It would be a fitting demise. One eye peeked up at him as he told her what he felt he needed to at the moment, but she failed to care. Words were sweet and sometimes powerful, but it was this action of his that she was actually paying attention to, his rhetoric drowned out by the increasing excitement in her chest, and through it all ...she was smiling still. She met the ground, her knees buckling beneath her, and she fell completely, bracing herself with her forearms. Her hair became tousled and much messier, and while choking and grinning at the same time, she gave him her eyes again. He told her she was strange. Freya rose back onto her feet. "And you are a strange man," she said to his back, still rubbing her throat, hand drifting down to play along her collar. "I know why I'm weird, but what kind of burden do you carry to strip you of your ability to have some fun? Be careful, Friend. You walk down that road for too long and you'll never come back... And that road is awfully dark and lonely... Might as well die and be done with it, save yourself some extra misery..." She turned her head down as she recoiled the whip, leashing it to her side as it had been. "Come talk to me. I'd like to see you again after this, if you'll allow it. I like you." |
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| Rohriel | Jun 21 2009, 03:55 PM Post #8 |
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"And you would be arbiter of knowledge then?" His delivery was intended to mock. Even with the metallic distortion, the deep bass could still be heard beneath, the motion evident. Maybe he was human. He watched the woman, partially angry, somewhat ignored, but otherwise confused. This was to be a simple, routine run. And now? Now it was a problem he wanted nothing to do with. His thoughts edged on violence once more. Kill her, be done with it. He held the advantage, merely mark her as another casualty and move on. As before, he pushed his mind away. A sigh escaped the helmet. Bale's chest lifted and hell, but finally he turned his attention back on the woman. His eyes focused and he found himself entranced once again. This was no common specimen, no bandit, no thief. Well, maybe a thief, but not of gold and jewels. Most men must have found themselves at her every whim, every beck and call. Bael too found it difficult to resist; perhaps, even he was to not resist such a temptation. "I do not need a lecture from you, girl." The anger had melted from his voice, his words now no more than air. "And do not think I am to let you leave; you're under arrest." He took a step forward, reaching out for the woman's arm. "If you wish to know your charge you are welcome to it, but I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out." Bael's voice trailed out as he turned toward his mount and whistled. Surprisingly, the mare responded. She kicked up and walked over, the heavy armor and hooves making a racket as she did. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 21 2009, 09:13 PM Post #9 |
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Love Thief
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"I've been around..." she chimed offhandedly. "I like to warn people before they look up and realize they're not where they want to be. Or, at least I try. Sometimes, no matter how clearly you say something, people won't listen." When he turned back to look at her, the glowing eyes in the pits of the helm, she gave him another subtle, soft grin, allowing her hands to fall from their finished job of re-tying the whip to her belt. What a funny fellow. Her charms, in her perspective, have yielded little reaction. Still, she had to think, wouldn't he have killed her by now if she were anyone else? Perhaps it was just because she was a woman ...but she doubted it. He had spent enough time in her presence now for her to make a sound judgment on him. A burdened fellow. Burdened by what? There was still time to figure it out. "Hey, that wasn't a lecture. That was five sentences, at most. And you're the only one who thinks you don't need it." Catching the end of his banter, eying the arm which reached out, she swayed backwards, tilting her head just slightly in curiosity. Did he really expect her to just let him take her? Who would do that? Her glance passed between him and his armored hand. Surely, he knew that she could outrun him just fast enough to find a hiding place. He would be weighed down too much from what he was wearing. But for some reason, possibly because she wanted to see where this went, wanted to get to know him a bit more, or perhaps because it was the wrong thing to do, she returned at his desire, but instead of allowing him to grip her bare arm with thorny, hard gauntlets, she wrapped her own arm around his extended one lightly, and grinned up at him. "I get it. So, where to, M'Lord?" Her attention shifted to the horse. "Oh, are we really going to burden that one so much? Surely, he's already tired from lugging your massive ass around town by now. Uhm, not that your ass is any more massive than the rest of you, I mean. Just ...well, you are a laaaaarge fellow." Edited by Freya LaShale, Jun 21 2009, 09:14 PM.
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| Rohriel | Jun 21 2009, 09:40 PM Post #10 |
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Bael grunted as the woman shifted away from his grasp. He could feel the headache as it formed. Why had he just not listened to his own instincts? Kill her! Be done with it! End the suffering before it begins! He could swear he could hear voices speak to him; fantastic, now he was losing himself. To ease the tension, he clenched a fist and held it low to his side, all the while controlling his breath. In, out. Strange, that exercise lacked ever sense he found himself seeking less for air. He ignored her words, but just as he was about to speak his own, the woman looped her arm in around his. "You have larger balls than most of my men." Bael said, somewhat surprised by her actions. A strange compliment, but a compliment none-the-less, right? Sure. No. She was a prisoner, not an equal. She would stand trial for her crime, and most likely be put to death. Yes. Why the hell would they kill her? Most likely put to the lash, or even sold into slavery. Either way, the law stood as it was, and he was in no place to deny it. That was a lie. "Remember. You are a prisoner," He continued, drawing his arm in, away from the woman's grasp. "This is not a happy outing, girl. Now, don't make me carry you." With that, Bael took a step forward and grabbed the reigns, lifting his massive self up onto the horse. It was hard to believe that the mare did not just fall over from the sudden weight added to her side, but then again, the Horse wasn't exactly small herself. Bael took his time to get situated, moving into the saddle and making sure he was secure before he offered a hand down. "You probably weigh less than just my ass alone. She will be fine." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 21 2009, 10:25 PM Post #11 |
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Love Thief
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She laughed heartily at his so-called compliment. "Yeah, I've been told similar things before..." He pulled his arm away, and she allowed this. He probably wasn't quite sure what exactly to do with her antics as it were now, being the military type that he was, but it would change soon... That, she could count on. It always changed. Then she could play a bit more with him. "Yeah, I know, but please forgive me if I don't show that I know the gravity of the situation. I do, I swear, but I have this problem with emotions," she said as her arm clapped into his, gripping his armored forearm for leverage as she hoisted herself up to situate comfortably behind him on top of the large animal. Her soft fleshy arms circled his waist, the side of her face resting gently on his cold, metal back - a feeling similar to the feeling she was getting from his personality. Everything about him so far was a bit chilly and pointed. "Ooh, would you carry me if I asked nicely? I get giddy when slung over someone's shoulder." A wry smile crept onto her features. "And my name is Freya. You can call me that instead of 'girl' if you like. 'Girl' implies immaturity and innocence. No, Sir, what sits behind you at this moment is a woman, not a girl. Nor a lady, which I noticed you stopped calling me once I opened my mouth." Oh, so the horse was a female. That explains the cold shoulder earlier. She never did get along very well with the same gender. "When I'm all caged up, you should come see me if you want a friendly sparring match as well as conversation. You use a sword, so I wonder how good your mid and long range are..." |
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| Rohriel | Jun 21 2009, 10:41 PM Post #12 |
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He had half expected her to try and pull him down. Or something to that effect. Ever since removing his helmet, Bael had been on alert, tense, readying and waiting for this vixen to try something. He half expected to received a dagger in the back before they reached the camp. The men had not followed, which meant that they had either ran into trouble or were scouring the outskirts for survivors - the latter, definitely, these people hardly stood as a threat to the Legion. Still, he was not surprised that had not followed. Would he have? No. Grabbing the reigns once more, Bael dug his heel into the mare's flank and brought her into a slow gallop. He kept a good hold on her, steering off the road aways. What the hell was he doing? Off road? Riding with a prisoner? This was all strange. Even through the armor he could feel the pressure of Freya's hold. How many years had it been since a woman had been within such proximity? Too many. And now he suffered for it, his judgement already skewed. His mind mused over the power held by the opposing gender - this one especially. Where he younger, he imagined they would have never made it passed hello. "Freya?" He nodded, despite that she could not see the gesture. "Bael." A harsh sounding name, just as everything else. Really, had his parents decided he would be a large, imposing figure of death when he grew up? From the looks of things, probably. "Your whip is useless against a shield and heavy enough armor." Why was he even taking the bait? "The only thing that provides a worrisome effort is a crossbow; and even that is low to pierce enough steel." It would not take long for them to reach the encampment. The area was lightly guarded, as most of the soldiers were out, doing what it was they did. Several tents had been erected, and now fires lit the small alleys between them, while the occasional patrol armed with torches made their rounds. None questioned the rider as he made his way into and through the camp. They knew who he was. Finally, Bael brought the mount to a stop just outside of a particularly large tent - even if he were not in some kind of command position, it was obvious that the common soldiering gear wasn't apt for the over-sized man. In a smooth motion the General dismounted and, as before, offered a hand to Freya. Strange, even with all his harsh attitudes, he still had the manners to treat the woman like a 'lady'. Somewhat. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 21 2009, 11:01 PM Post #13 |
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Love Thief
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"Well duh," she rolled her eyes. "I know that. I'm talking a man-to-man battle, er, man-to-woman. You'd have to be armed with only your sword, as I have no shields or armor. It's only fair. If you're skilled, you'll win. Shouldn't have to rely on hiding behind things for your defense." The buxom red-head mused to herself along the journey, noting the path they were taking. The encampment gradually came into view. Sure, they may not have questioned their lord, but it didn't seem to effect the way they stared at what he had brought back with him, and... no wonder he had brought her back with him! It'd be a pity to lop the head off of such a perfect body. As the pair passed, she would make eye contact with a few, giving them smiles and flirtatious winks. At last, they arrived. Freya let her arms fall from around him, and stared up at the tent. It was his personal temporary quarters. If she were truely a prisoner, would he have led her here, of all places? She knew the usual thing was to tie her to something with little shelter and leave her to deal with in the morning. Well, it would be if she weren't who she was. But, seeing where she had landed, she knew right then and there that her charms had indeed worked. He just didn't show it like the others. Of course he wouldn't. Just as before, she accepted his help, placing one boot in the stirrup and taking his hand as she elegantly descended. Well, she used to be a lady. Some habits die hard. "Bael," she finally said after so long. "I like it. It fits." Freya released his hand quickly after reaching the ground, so sure that he wouldn't want to hold onto her for a moment longer, lest his head explode in bottled-up confusion between his brain and his nethers. She stopped by the horse's head, giving her an unnecessary thank-you aloud as well as a bow, as cordial to it as she had been to anyone else. You had to respect a creature born into servitude, particularly one with such tolerance. It deserved appreciation. "Okay, now where do you want me?" she flicked those eyes at him again, possibly implying something else. Could have been. Maybe. |
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| Rohriel | Jun 21 2009, 11:23 PM Post #14 |
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His headache swelled. What in all the hells was he doing? Personally escorting some woman into a military encampment, and even worse, to his own tent. Albeit, Bael was a noble, one of the highest degree, not too mention a personal advisor to the Empress of Morrim. Who, besides her, held any degree of criticism over his actions? He had earned such rights. He had even sacrificed his soul for them. A fact that he would never forgive himself for. "Inside. If I leave you with the other prisoners you'll have been raped by every conscript by the morning." Smooth. At least his reasoning was sound - not every one whom he had brought was a friend. In fact, even though he had once memorized the faces of each man under his command, such a thing had long since passed. Something about too many wastes of time. Surprisingly, Bael left the horse unattended. Someone would be around to see to her sooner or later, but it was the last thing on his mind. For now, he made his way forward, pushing aside the flap and stepping in. The tent was nothing too impressive. Well, for a noble. For a tent it was a penthouse suite. There was a bed, desk, a comfy, large chair and several books situated throughout the area. There was even a small chest - for clothes, no doubt. In all, none of it fit. Most of the soldiers expected a lair, full of bodies and blood scattered about on a whim, not any real, practical uses. The books were all non-fiction, information, tactics, some even filled with notes on various subjects. Bael made his way toward the desk. He removed his helmet once again and placed it down next to the single candle that flickered wildly with the added wind from the open door. Following the gesture, he began to remove the rest of the armor, first the gloves, the gauntlets, then the shoulders. The armor itself was odd in design, sectioned in various areas to make the removal process simple, as was obviously when he removed the breastplate. Beneath he wore a simple attire, merely cloth to protect his skin from the irritation of metal. "...make yourself comfortable, I suppose. Just don't do anything stupid. There are well over three hundred men that come and go from this camp, and they would not be as... hospital." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 21 2009, 11:48 PM Post #15 |
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Love Thief
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She blinked with surprise at his account of the caliber of men within the camp. No, being gang-raped was not on her to-do list, nor was it ever, so without another word, she quickly followed him into the tent, ducking under his arm when he drew the entrance open swiftly. Inside, she marveled at his mobile bedroom. She'd expected something similar, but not quite as orderly and clean. Even before he'd told her to relax, she was bending over to unlace her boots, all the while still analyzing her surroundings. The books, she could barely make out what they said along their spines. Some, she knew she would be opening before the night ended. Her boots were placed by the entrance, and which it soon came the enchanted whip and her heavy Falchion blade. Lastly, her gloves. Much more comfortable, her thumb ran along just inside the waist of her pants, adjusting briefly before the thunk of armor directed her attention over her shoulder, idly watching him reveal himself at last. Such a rare countenance, almost entrancing. It made her want to know him, know why he was like that, what he was, exactly. Why did he possess that overbearing aura of pain and death? Who was he? What was his internal conflict he'd kept reminding her he had without saying a word? What made those eyes of his glow? And what was the scar from? Could she touch it? Would he kick her out if she just walked over to run a finger along it? Freya didn't notice she was distantly staring at his face again... |
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| Rohriel | Jun 22 2009, 12:03 AM Post #16 |
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The rest of the armor did not take long. Eventually, he was down to nothing more than his breachers, tunic, and boots. He had removed his gloves to reveal large, calloused hands, hard with years of constant warfare. In fact, everything about him was tough, like stone. His body was muscular, toned, not an inch of waisted fat. His features were sharp - no doubt, no doubt a man of noble breeding. Age was difficult to place. Although his hair was white he was nowhere beyond forty. With a breath of relief, Bael stretched out and crackled his knuckles. Normally, that would been intimidating, but it was more comical now that he had removed the armor. So, he was human. Somewhat. His skin bespoke otherwise and the eyes, those glowing, red eyes. How strange. The armor really had nothing to do with the aura, either, even without it, Bael was just as intimidating, just as monstrous, only now there was a face to remember. Turning, he was taken aback at the woman's stare. At least he registered emotion. Surprise struck his countenance. What was she looking at? The scare, no doubt - that wicked, fallacious wound acquired all those years ago. Now that his body was exposed, the language was readable as well. Although he showed next to nothing, there was an occasional twitch, an unplanned motion. Maybe the armor did have something to do with the image. "If you're hungry, I can send for food," He said, turning back toward the desk. Bael stepped around and pulled the chair out before he set himself down. He reached out, grabbed at a few of the maps nearby, and laid them out, his eyes pouring over them almost at once. "...I suppose I'll have to send for extra bedding. Unless you'd prefer mine." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 22 2009, 12:26 AM Post #17 |
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Love Thief
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She couldn't get passed it. Yes, she was obviously staring, and his notice of this didn't seem to change a thing. Even so, it was doubtful he knew just what was behind this look she blankly gave to him. It began slowly at first, her feet moving in awkwardly hesitant intervals. Half way to him, they picked their pace up, as he said something about food and bedding she didn't quite catch. Her hands fell to the map he'd just rolled out, using the desk as leverage as her body flew across, a hand whipping out just before the rest of her to snatch his chin, drawing it up almost violently as her lips crushed into his mouth, shoving all of her into the act. Her eyes fluttered shut immediately, her brows and shoulders rising as she fell face-first into the usual unintelligent impulse. How could she possibly resist such a rarity? His aura had not deterred her in the least, but had only accomplished peaking her curiosity to the point of momentary obsession. A thrill-seeker, unable to feel anything small or subtle, his shrouded intensity was like invisible ropes pulling her into the position she was in now. Her chest was full to brimming with the excitement of not knowing, even in the slightest, of what would happen to her now. He could very well just reach up and crush her throat with his bare hands, but not before she reached into his hair to pull his head forward too. Two men, both equally as interesting, had introduced themselves to her now in such a short time. Why now? Would she have to choose? But the moment was still fresh, and he very well could punch her in the face just as easily now as do anything else to her. |
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| Rohriel | Jun 22 2009, 12:43 AM Post #18 |
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He felt her stare. Had she suddenly gone catatonic on him? No surprise, she was obviously crazy, but this was just yet another annoyance. There were things to be done, plans to be made. No doubt his officers would see to the proper placement of the men, but tomorrow they would have to strike camp. And what would he do then? Take Freya back to Morrim? Hold her to trial? No doubt she would be a slave in moments. The woman's presence blossomed in his mind. He lifted his head to turn toward her, only to feel her hand on his chin. His fists clenched and he moved to lift himself from his chair, anger welling up inside as the glow of his eyes heightened their intensity. "Tha-" Bael had not even completed his fist word when he was cut off. He felt her lips on his, that blissful sensation. For a moment he did nothing, merely sat. His eyes lessened their glow and his hands unfolded. Bael's entire body relaxed and for a moment, he was human again. He felt a rush of excitement coupled by intense emotions. Lust, the desire to ravage the woman was unprecedented. How could he resist? Such a specimen of beauty, and it had been years since any woman had even thought about him in such a way. Yet she was attracted to something else, not just his appearance. And so, Bael leaned in and returned the kiss. For a moment, all was well. Then the voices returned. "Enough." He said as he ripped himself away from Heaven. There was no place for him there. Standing, Bael pushed the chair back and reached out, his anger swelling to heights once more. "What gives you the right?" He halted his assault before it completed, and instead turned it away. "I am not your toy, woman." The deep bass rumbled like an unsatisfied earthquake. "Now, get off my desk." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 22 2009, 01:04 AM Post #19 |
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Love Thief
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The suspense was making her sweat, adrenaline rushing through ever bone in her body. What would he do? At last, her inaudible cries for some kind of response was granted as she felt his mouth move into her's. A very satisfied, subtle moan accompanied the hand on his head that loosened its grip on his white locks. Yes, he wanted it too... The demon she'd seen so many men run from tonight, the one that had lifted her by the throat as if she were as light as a feather, wanted her too. Then suddenly, there was air where he had been, and she felt a sudden chill down her spine... Opening her eyes, she was staring straight at a recoiled arm, prepared to strike. She shrank away, almost stumbling, her balance on the desk was so very volitile, wincing in preparation for the blow, but it never came. Instead, he commanded her off the desk, so she did as told, being in no situation to argue. Honestly, she was still in shock. Her body quckly slithered off the furniature and sank away to the other side of the room, her eyes returning to their normal size. Her expression was one of real pain, but not the kind that was so obviously seen. Instead, it came through her eyes. The rest of her was as if carved of unmovable stone. He may as well have followed through with hitting her. "I..." she started, quietly, turning to take a place on the edge of the bed, her back to him, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees in a very unlady-like display. "...You are..." her tone softened and dropped in volume, becoming nothing but a small, diffused, defeated whisper, "...beautiful." Freya's head sank into her hands. Her eyes peered at the floor through her fingers. "...never thought..." she was speaking to herself at this point, "...my toy... M' sorry..." |
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| Rohriel | Jun 22 2009, 01:25 AM Post #20 |
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Rohriel watched through eyes not his own. That was not how she was supposed to react. The woman he had met was not the being before him now; what had changed? Was it so sincere that his denial of her desire affected her such? He lowered his hand and his head simultaneously and stared down at the map. It was was of Morrim, a region he was intimately familiar with. For a moment he tried to shove the woman from his thoughts, he began reviewing troops formations, how best to approach the marked locations. For once, he longed for the voices to stay. Damn it! Who the hell was she? Why had he stopped for her?! His ears twitched. Beautiful? Turning, Rohriel fixed his gaze on the woman's back. What a bastard. That man had called Bael a monster and he was right. Not for the death, the look, but he had devolved into such a beast. A sigh escaped his lips. He could not ignore her. He would not ignore her. "I am sorry." The deep bass rumbled again, sincere. "But I am not what you seek, Freya. I am not a man, not deserving of what you might offer." And who was he to decide such a thing? Hypocrite. Yet, he did not care. "In the morning I will let you go." Rohriel spoke with a hint of remorse. His expression was strained, too much perhaps to even show the proper emotion. If only his eyes could display the power wrought by those of this woman. He moved forward, in two giant paces, and laid his over-sized hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to apologize for." Edited by Rohriel, Jun 22 2009, 01:26 AM.
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 22 2009, 01:46 AM Post #21 |
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Love Thief
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She felt so low. Denied again. This situation was turning into another 'Razarod'. Wasn't it funny that the fellows she might actually be interested in all turned away? And the ones she didn't have any desire for in the least seemed to pile up in abundance. Men, all wretched things, doing more to the poor girl than they ever realized, turning her further and further away from the goodness and emotions she used to have. Alone. Always truely alone. This would never change, and she had to accept it as soon as she could before this kind of thing happens again. Just... displace herself from all of it entirely, become a hollow shell. Yes. She would. A sympathetic apology drifted across the room. She came out of her self-pity for a moment to listen to it, looking up between her fingers at the tent wall just above the floor. When he informed her he'd release her, she was relieved, yes, but also wondered just a bit why not until the morning. Why did he have to keep her here tonight? Ah yes, she remebered. He had returned her lust for a brief moment. Perhaps he just wanted to gawk at her a little more, but keep her at a distance. Typical. She began to wonder if she would stay that long, herself. Freya felt a large, icy hand on her shoulder. This prompted her to lift her head, hands falling away, but not after giving herself a rub to awake her from her trance completely and step back into the moment. She looked up at him - way up - from her spot on the edge of the bed. He looked stressed. So, he did care. Funny he would say that he wasn't worth her affections. She could say the same about herself now. "Then I retract my apology," she said bluntly, still wearing a face of granite. To let any muscle slip would mean to show him what she was feeling right now, the lowliness of feeling there was no use for her, other than a whore with tricks. "Thank you for releasing me." Then she added, after moving her shoulder away from his hand calmly, "...Don't give me your sympathy, Bael. I wouldn't know what to do with it." |
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| Rohriel | Jun 22 2009, 02:00 AM Post #22 |
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Too many thoughts. Too many emotions. Rohriel had not been this stumped since he was sixteen. At least then he had a youthful spirit and unweighted shoulders. But now. What would happen if he gave in? It was weakness, and there was no place for weakness. Too much to be done, too much before he met the end he knew was coming. And where did she fit into all of this? A one night stand, was it? Or something else. The way she reacted, there was much to her than he had originally thought. Rohriel turned his gaze downward. Those eyes. Her face was like stone, but there was no hiding those eyes. Not from him. He could feel the emotion, the power, everything culminated into that moment. Was she so lonely? Had his denial enacted such a powerful response? Perhaps, he understood it better than anyone. Was it not the same reason he had acted as such? Only Rohriel expressed his own despair differently, with anger. If the man could have blinked, the timing would have been perfect. An epiphany dawned. Fate or not, belief or not, none of that mattered. He sighed. "I did not mean for it to- you know." He paused and shook his head. "Screw it." Rohriel muttered as he brought his other hand about, reached down with both, and gently grabbed the woman. He lifted her - right off the bed - and up to his level, and leaned down, bringing his lips to hers once more. This time, he spared no expense, involved in a fiery, passionate embrace that he intended not to waste. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 22 2009, 02:17 AM Post #23 |
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Love Thief
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"No, not rea-" this time, it was she who had been interrupted, wide-eyed as he lifted her, once again as if her weight was meaningless, up off the bed and into the air, or, even more unexpectedly, his arms. It went by too quickly. A few seconds were gone from her memory forever, but when truth finally began to set in, the red-head blossomed into motion, her arms flying around his neck, eyes closing once more to pick up where he had lost his damn mind earlier. He was cold, but she would warm him, lighting the night on fire when she sought his intensity and created her own, opening her mouth to breathe him in. Her head spun, particularly dwelling on the very first time she saw him and had to swallow down her fear, the demonic rider in the black allies in Eldahar. Everything had changed. That's right, everything always changed. She'd known that before, hadn't she? Why had she doubted? Her feet were dangling a good foot, at least, off the ground. Always with the tall fellows. Regardless, one leg began to fold upwards with instinct. She generously curved her scantily-clad figure to mold to his features as she continued to play with the arctic mane at the base of his skull. When she felt she couldn't go a moment longer without breathing, she involuntarily broke the heated kiss, gasping for air, as she hadn't been able to hold much in without proper preparation. Her hands slid to either side of his face where she looked on at him, slowly re-opening her eyes to stare at him once more, this time in general shock. "Okay," she panted, speaking quietly because, no doubt he would be able to hear every word she said from such a scandalous distance - or lack thereof. "I'll stay 'till morning." This mention, of course, was accompanied by a bright grin. |
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| Rohriel | Jun 22 2009, 02:35 AM Post #24 |
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Rohriel felt cheated as Freya moved her lips away. Air, of course, that was important. Occasionally. It mattered little, he still held onto her and tightly, as if he feared she would disappear should he let go. No, the man had no intention of ruining this again. Once a mistake, now fixed. He watched her with those strange eyes and reveled in the sight. The moment before her eyes fluttered upon, the expression, and even when the grin expanded her lips to encompass her countenance. He felt her warmth, relished her touch. He could barely hold himself back. "That doesn't give us much time..." Rohriel muttered, now lost within the passion of the moment. Sure, some love stories ended in a sentimental embrace, a loving affair between two star-crossed lovers, but that was hardly what was suspect to this tent, this night. With one hand he grabbed a handful of the woman's top and pulled, forcing it up and over her head without regard for decency. Now only holding her in one arm - the size was more than enough to allow such a thing - he stepped forward and tossed Freya on the bed. The bed shook as he followed, his hands grabbing at the woman once again. Rohriel pushed himself forward, his mouth colliding into her's once more as he enveloped her with an overwhelming desire. His eyes glowed hot with intensity and for once, the aura was practically dismissed, replaced by stronger powers. He came on almost feral, wild. Hungrily, he enveloped himself entirely in Freya's existence. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jun 22 2009, 02:57 AM Post #25 |
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Love Thief
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The next morning, the inside of the private tent was filled with soft light, yet unsatisfyingly hot and sweltering from the desert sun bearing down on the encampment. Her hair tossed over a luxurious pillow, she had had a dreamless sleep that night, passing out after exhaustion. His arousal from the bed hadn't even made her turn, she'd slept so soundly. Both parties had wielded unimaginable stamina, and even still, as she slowly awoke, she had not gotten nearly enough sleep. Her surroundings were blurry at first, nothing but color, but her vision soon focused and she met with an unfamiliar environment, once again. It only took her less than a moment to recall what had gotten here, and when she did, she turned to the other side of the bed to see a massive portion of it unoccupied. Her gaze then drifted to the body moving behind the desk. Moving so much, she bit her lip, realizing now the ache that had set into her body overnight. He'd really gone at her last night, and now she was going to be paying for it all day. Slowly, her top half rose to sit up in the bed, the sheets falling around her unclothed figure. Freya gradually was able to swing her legs over the side and stand without too much discomfort, but when she did, her head swam, and she found herself holding out her arms for anything to support her. She found the chest of clothing, and was able to regroup. "Hm," she smiled lazily. "G'mornin', Sunshine." She was able to make it to the desk, walking to his side, where she folded her arms across her exposed chest and glanced down at what he was doing. Not before giving him a kiss on the top of his head, of course. "I was a bit loud, and this is a tent. I imagine when you walk out today, they'll all be giving you hearty salutes." |
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