| Welcome to our home, a world in which anything can happen. From sprawling deserts and vast forests to massive volcanoes and luscious hot springs, Soare and the Scattered Isles are beautiful places just waiting to be explored. For the brave and the bold or the cautious and the wary, creatures of all kinds roam the earth, looking for adventure or for a place to call their own. Species of all kinds - the well-known and the unknown - thrive here, though not always in harmony. Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real. Enter Our World |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Safety?; For Vor and Foo :3 | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Sep 26 2011, 08:00 PM (1,134 Views) | |
| Nevneni | Sep 26 2011, 08:00 PM Post #1 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Gods, it was so good to be out of the night. It angered Nevneni that the cricket-songs still made her this afraid. Couldn't you be stronger? a voice in her yelled every time she started to suffer from intrusive thoughts. She had no choice but to go through with it, deal with it, until she'd seen the lights of the tavern and proposed to Vor that they stop there for a little while. He went off to hunt a bit and she went in, drawing in the familiar scents of beer, hay and piss. It reminded her of the tavern her father would sometimes take her to every two weeks or so. It had been in a town a few hours from their village, and it had been smelly but friendly. One time she'd made money patching up a pair of men after they'd gotten into a brawl. She smiled at the memory, taking in the sights around her- a clean bar, a fireplace that was, on this summer evening, silent, lanterns casting their flickering orange glows about the place. There were plenty of people here- this was a busy part of the Kaadian way. For once, Nevneni was glad to be around others. This was a place where the law could exert its influence, so she didn't think anything dangerous would really happen here. She went up to the bar and sat there, feeling suddenly bright from the comfort and safety of this place. She didn't normally even drink but found herself ordering an ale from the female bartender, who was quite pretty, Nevneni found herself noticing. She smiled a bit and averted her eyes, searching her purse for coins and sliding one across the table in exchange for a foaming tankard. She sucked the head off the beer and wiped the foam off her mouth and looked around at the people in the tavern, who mostly sat with hunched backs and eyes glancing around suspiciously. For the first time in what seemed like years, in her sudden euphoria, she'd felt like engaging in a conversation but oh well, perhaps not. With a sigh she returned to her drink- at least that was nice. A cloudy brew, but sweet, tangy. She found she enjoyed it, and she'd never managed to enjoy beer before, but now it reminded her of limes. She smiled to herself and relished in the murmured conversation so far from the songs of a summer night. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Sep 26 2011, 09:31 PM Post #2 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
His fingers itched sometimes, to pick up the instrument and start playing again but he would at least finish his tale. They had been kind enough to keep the drinks coming throughout, and as he sat stroking his currently foamy beard in thought, eying his audience and taking a long pull from the tankard before setting it down on his table with a thump. Tonight consisted of several small children and their families, a couple of travelling merchants, and the usual people, like himself, just stopping through. Currently he sat perched on a stool, the fiddle carved of dark polished wood resting upon his knee, the bow lying flat on the bar. He tapped the strings, giving a faint musical hum. The few children of the evening sat on the floor around his feet, the adults who were listening on chairs drawn near with the youngest of their brood on their laps. A faint smile, the lightest touch of fae wildness around his eyes and he gave a slow nod. "Now then. It was about this time that Erik had managed to escape the dread Blackwoods, and was finally feeling the greatest relief to be free of their shadows. T'was as he turned back, to gaze upon them one last time he thought that the branches reached for him, like greedy skeletal hands, all a-writhing!" Here he raised his own hands, wriggling his slender tanned fingers, with a face most grim of expression. "T'was not the trees now though, that cast the fear into him, oh no, children. For as you well know! There was no mortal, no man, woman, nor child who could look upon the evil and not be gripped by the terror! The trees began to shake, rattling like a hag's old bag of bones, and a terrible silence began to descend..." Slowly the bard leaned forward towards his audience, his eyes widening as he took on a cracked and feeble voice. "He could feel it coming, even now the old witch's words did he remember. 'Upon that night, the trees will hush and hide, for you cannot outrun your trickery, and he shall come for you, thirsting for what you denied him!'" He leaned forward even more, so he appeared to be about to fall off his stall, his eyebrows climbing into his hair. "Thump...thump...thump..." The listeners silenced, holding their breath as they waited. They did not have to wait long as he suddenly leaped up, clawing at the air with his hands and making a fairly mimicry of a dragon's roar, knocking over his stool in the process with a clatter, the children shrieking with mixed fear and delight as he waved the instrument in his hand. "COME FORTH! I SHALL MELT THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES AND GRIND THEM TO SAND! FACE ME COWARD!" He paused, then sat on his now sideways stool on the floor, hunching closer to his audience, seemingly uncaring for the discomfort. "Erik stood, not because he was a gallant Knight of the Moon Maiden, but because the dragon's gaze held him rooted with fear. The sorcery of the creature was too much for him alone to face, and he was left without a single defense. But! The second the beast took his baleful eyes from our hero, he drew his greatsword, glittering with the blessing of Essina, and slashed at the Dragon's chest, tearing a deep gouge and spraying hot blood into the night!" Grabbing his intrument he swung it by the neck in both hands like a sword, and stopped, poised in the air. This was mainly because the fiddle in question slipped from his hands and flew out through the window with a crash and tinkle of glass. Turning slowly to look at the bartender, he offered a sheepish grin. "Sorry mistress, I'll pay the damages." After righting his stool and one of the boys fetching his 'weapon' for him - barely scratched, Aluvian Hardwood! - he settled the audience down once more. "The Dragon grew furious, and in his pain clapped the young hero a mighty blow from his claws, throwing him to the ground, where he was snapped up, and was, how do you say, in a most precarious position. Standing on the beasts tongue, his hands holding the jaws open with all his strength, he refused to budge. But just as he though his strength might give, he heard music, coming from the woods from which he fled. Now you know nothing good ever comes out of there, only faeries, and beasties that will eat you, lest you go a'bed when your mothers and fathers tell you to! But here, was music. Sweet and frail." Foojoe took a gulp from his tankard, sighing with pleasure, then slapped it down, slopping the contents over his wrist and flicking foam into the air when he raised his hands. "Lo! There was a strange man, hop-skipping along, and playing a Syrinx, calm as can be." He mimed playing the reed pipes, whistling through his teeth to the smiles of the listeners. "Please! Please help me! I fear this will be my end, swallowed by a mighty dragon! Called the hero. And the man continued on, playing his pipes. As he drew nearer though, he stopped, and held aloft a feather, larger than any bird now seen. A feather from a roc! And with that, he skipped merrily over to the dragon, and..tickled it." Waggling his fingers, the bard gave a mischievous smile and nodded vigorously. "The Dragon could not help himself, he began to laugh, and laugh, and spat the Knight out onto the floor. Before he could react, the Knight grabbed his sword, plunging it through the creature's neck and out again, felling him like a mighty tree! Finally, the terror that had stalked him since he left his home was gone, ended! Our Erik turned to thank the stranger...but there was noone there. Perhaps..it had all been a trick of his imagination and the woods had driven him mad after all?" His audience shook their heads, voicing their disbelief at the claim, even as parents began gathering their offspring to retire to their rooms. "I shall leave it to you dear friends. After all, it is just a story." At the last he flourished an enormous feather from light knew where, and winked to the wonder of the children, chuckling as the complaints and refusals for bed started as they were herded out of the common room. "Ahhh...Now..how much do I owe you for that window? I call it one grapefruit and twelve glass thimbles. What say you?" |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Sep 27 2011, 04:16 AM Post #3 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
Vorkael had found no water near where he took his kill, and so had to make sure to feed neatly, and wipe any blood off on the inside of his shirt. He was immersed in his own thoughts on his way there - that is, until he happened to walk by the window. There was a crash and something hit his shoulder, hard. He flinched, caught it before it could hit the ground. A fiddle? Interesting...he glanced into the tavern, seeing a crowd of people around a satyr. Then a boy ran out, stopped, stared at him. "Uh sir...I was asked-" "To retrieve it? Here you go," he interrupted, extending it to the boy. The lad took it gratefully and ran back inside, and the vampire followed him. Spotting Nevneni at the counter, he veered that way and took his own seat next to her. He ordered a lager after sliding his own coin over to the barmaid, then glanced at his traveling companion of a few weeks now. "You look...happier." The bartender gave him his drink and he left it alone for now, only clutching his left hand around it for when he actually felt like drinking. "By the way, did you notice the satyr throwing his instrument? It hit me in the shoulder. And actually hurt a bit." He snorted at that, laughing at himself. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Sep 27 2011, 04:54 AM Post #4 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
A loud shout and a clatter attracted Nevneni's attention. She looked around to see a strange bearded man yelling some sort of threat. No, he was telling a story. Very dramatically at that. She listened, sipping her beer with her eyebrows raised. Moments after she'd started listening, the man acted out stabbing a dragon and threw his fiddle out the window. The ever-skittish Nevneni jumped in her seat, though the people around didn't notice- they'd been surprised by the breaking glass. The people to her right resumed their conversation, the man sitting her left said something along the lines of "What a fucking clumsy bastard goat" and slammed down his empty tankard and promptly left. Rather than annoyed at the distractions, Nevneni was intrigued. The beer began to affect her, just a little, a bit of tickling at the back of her brain, a sudden lift in her mood. As the story continued, she laughed- the turn of events that confused some of the listeners made her giggle. The people to her right paused in their conversation, looking over at her curiously. Nevneni quickly put on a straight face, taking another swallow of her drink, and then suppressing more laughter when they looked away. A gust of air signalled the opening of the door- she looked around. It was Vorkael; she smiled at him, almost impulsively- she never smiled like this, and said, "It's good to not be outside. If that makes any sense." She took a sip of her beer and then nearly spit it out with laughter. "The fiddle hit you? Oh my gods..." She laughed like she hadn't in a while, like that time when she'd been giddy from Vorkael's blood in the oasis, even louder than that. The people to her right gave her quizzical looks and stood up to move into a quieter corner. This made her laugh more. "I'm sorry...gods. That's just so..." She couldn't finish her sentence, putting her face in her hands to laugh. It was then that the strange man came up to the bar to negotiate the price of the window. She bit back her mirth, noticing that it smelled like he hadn't washed in a while. She wrinkled her nose and grinned, and then again started to laugh, unable to hold it back any longer. (...unable to hold it back any longer...that's what she said uhuhuhhuh. ;o) |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Sep 27 2011, 11:49 AM Post #5 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
"You're right Florence, seems at least half of them know we don't have toes. Yes...not favorable...perhaps..mm..ahahah..." He stood murmuring softly to himself below the fluctuating noise, nodding his head, slightly tilted as if listening to someone. "Very well. Barkeep! We're not staying, could you exchange the value of our board for some supplies? Mmyes, and a good flask of that vintage. Not that one there, the one, yes! THAT one!" He fished in the pack by his foot for a moment, before slapping down a few coins on the bartop. "For the extra!" As the barkeep called out to a serving girl to watch the counter a moment, she turned away shaking her head and muttering about thimbles and grapefruit, then retreated into the back room to fetch the foodstuffs as requested. Foojoe pulled his hand down across his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He'd been hoping to sleep in a bed tonight but it seemed that more than the odd couple here were aware that he came from the Fae and were not viewing him favorably. It would simply be best if he just moved on tonight, the were riper pineapples further afield after all. Nose twitching, he sniffed at his shirt and made a mock gagging expression. "Yes I know Florence, but there's no time for that now and barely enough coin. Already scraping the barrel. Have to find a good pool...maybe there will be nymphs!" He seemed to perk up at this, and resumed drumming his hand on the bar top, as if tapping along to some tune only he could hear. He could take smelling like half a weeks travel with no inn, no bath, but combined with the tavern stench of an evening...the stink of iron was on him, making him want to retch. Casually he slipped his fiddle into the bag resting on his hip, just wide enough to fit the instrument in but in no way long enough, it vanished inside however, and the bow went in right after it, before he returned to idly drumming his fingertips to his imaginary jaunty tune. Foojoe blinked as if someone had whispered in his ear, then cast a sidelong glance over at the elf-touched girl watching him. His attention was drawn back however when the barkeep returned with a bundle wrapped in oilpaper and a flask, which he gratefully took as if it were the dearest present in all the world, and placed into the pack by his foot, which he slung over his shoulder. "May the sky rain a hundred turnips on you dear lady!" Taking her look of confusion for acceptance, he turned, spared a wink at the elf-touched girl snorting into her cup, and swaggered to the door. Outside the tavern he promptly dunked his head in the water trough, shared several enlightening comments with a horse drinking from it, and laughed uproariously at the joke it told him about a farmer who had lost his favourite chicken in his wife's bloomers. The Satyr had gone no further than four and a half steps however when he was apprehended by several men, reeking of alcohol. His shoulders sagged, and he sighed. "We don't want your kind here. Git out." "I was just leaving good sir. As you can see. Things to see, people to do, you know." He fluttered his hand in a random direction and made to sidestep the offender, and instead stepped into another one who had come up alongside. "Now gentlemen, I assure you there are enough snails for ever-" He moved, but not quite fast enough, the tang of the fire and dead magic assaulting his nose like a physical blow, the blow itself cracking into the side of his face and leaving a stark red burn in the shape of the mans' 'holy' iron symbol. Of course he'd had to deal with this before, but noone had ever quite gone so far as this. And of course, once he stood, they stepped back. At least, the rational ones did. Half a foot taller than before and with his curving horns and soft ears exposed, he could have been menacing if not for the hurt and confusion on his face. "How dare you! I should have you hung by your toenails and forced to listen to a bad banjo player for sixty-three days!" "The gods don't take to your sort, git you gone demon!" Foojoe cringed as pain exploded in his head, and looking to the ground saw half of his already napped horn rolling across the ground with a tendril of smoke twisting from it. This, naturally, was too much. His eyes clouded, like a storm at midnight, dark pools of ink in his face. There was a roar and the tavern wall shook, groaned, and was still as the offending party was launched at it and disengaged again, lying in an unconcious crumpled heap by the door. "Who's next?" |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Sep 27 2011, 02:32 PM Post #6 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
Vorkael grinned at her, laughing with until that subsided, then just watching her with amusement. It seemed her better mood and the alcohol was doing this in combination. He watched the man too; he was leaving and the wink didn't slip his notice. For curiosity's sake, he kept his ears trained on the satyr as he left, while his grey eyes slipped over to Nevneni for a moment. The vampire raised his eyebrows as he listened; this man was clearly a little nutty. Not that that hadn't been established back here in the tavern either, what with the 'Florence' and talking to himself, and...well, you get the idea. But then trouble arrived; the satyr was apprehended by a man, no atleast two men, and then what he assumed from the next bit was that he was hit. "Some men are after the satyr - I'm going to check it out, see if he needs help," he muttered to Nevneni, then dropped off his stool and walked quickly to the door, opening it to step outside. Interesting...he found himself saying that a lot around this being. He shouted out, "I suggest you don't kill them or anything. You need help?" As he said that he went to check the man crumpled by the door. No ned to feel for a pulse, he just crouched down and could hear the man's blood pumping. He was unconscious, but alive. Then he took a closer look and noticed part of his horn was missing...ouch. That was atleast a dint in the man's pride, if not actually hurting him physically. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Sep 28 2011, 07:56 AM Post #7 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Nevneni grinned at him and watched him go and was just turning her attention back to Vorkael when there was a struggle outside. She swallowed the rest of her beer and rushed out after him, just as the tavern shuddered. The people fell silent though Nevneni had no time for them- she hurried out to see the man by the door, crumpled like an autumn leaf. And above them stood the satyr, his face menacing. Nevneni paled, backing away. The violence of it all made her already buzzing head spin. "I won't hurt you...Please calm down sir," she said in a quavering voice. She wanted to help the unconscious man but was rather afraid to. She edged towards Vorkael, instinctively seeking his protection. She hadn't brought her staff out with her- stupid move- and so was unarmed. Edited by Nevneni, Sep 28 2011, 08:46 AM.
|
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Sep 28 2011, 10:15 AM Post #8 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
The Satyr growled as the young man appeared at the door and started calling to him. 'Not' to kill them, no less. His lips curled back baring his sharp teeth, like a pirahna's, in a savage grin. "Oh don't you worry about that. I may be a Satyr, but I am no monster, nothing so barbaric as a human." His brow furrowed as he looked at the man who had attacked him, crumpled by the door. He wasn't sure if he was alive, and mostly, didn't really care either. It wasn't the first time he'd been set upon on passing through a town or village. Perhaps it could be put to his own kind causing havoc for them, perhaps merely a racial prejudice. He'd not lost his temper like this in a long time at least, his head was normally calm. Or at least, as calm as was possible when your head was in limbo. His gaze flickered to movement, the elf-touched girl, exiting the door and sidling close to the tall youth. His nostrils flared. There was something odd about him. He smelt old, like an aged and musty scroll, or the scent of trapped spirits in a long-sealed tomb. And darker, more base, the irony tang of blood. His eyes narrowed, some more primal instinct told him that there was something unnatural, and that he shouldn't affiliate with such a being, being of nature himself, and shifted uneasily. His thoughts were cut short however as pain exploded in his back, like a red hot poker being driven past his shoulder, the heat and pain spreading like wildfire in his blood. Spinning with a roar of rage, he flung his arm out, catching the man in the throat with his elbow and throwing him a foot into the air. He could care less about the human, flailing as helpless as a fish, clutching at his crushed windpipe. It just sort of slipped out. Easy as that. "Pop goes the weasel." 'Please calm down sir.' He hadn't registered the words just before the pain, barely heard, trembling with fear. But now his ears drooped as he hunched, shaking, staring at the struggling man. "What have I become Florence, if not a monster? No better than they..." Foojoe sank akwardly to his knees, head throbbing as he tried to shut out the awful violated sensation of the iron buried in his flesh. Disconsolate, he murmured hoarsely, "I have failed you my goddess. We were meant to bring teacups, not violence! The tree is singing purple! I can hear the cheese, laughing at us!" His head felt foggy, the words he tried to form, to apologize, were coming out as nonsense again. What a calamity. Edited by Foojoe, Sep 28 2011, 10:19 AM.
|
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Sep 28 2011, 12:35 PM Post #9 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
Vorkael noticed the clearing of nonsense from his speech when he was angry, and then the satyr was staring at him. He stared right back, until he saw movement over his shoulder. About to warn him, the vampire was thwarted as the man hit him and he spun around. Well, it appeared he didn't always say normal things. Regardless, the satyr soon took Nevneni's advice and dropped to his knees. He looked to his traveling companion quickly, told her, "You look to them, I'm sure he won't hurt you. I think both may need my blood. I'll deal with the last two." The were standing there, staring. One was contemplating getting him while he was down, and he vamp sped to the both of them, lifting both slightly off the ground and ejecting his fangs. He stared at them, compelling. "You two, are going to stop attacking this man. You don't care about him, you don't care about your buddies, and you're going to stand right here without a thought in your heads besides how drunk you are, until I get back and tell you otherwise." He put them down, and they nodded vaguely, showing that it had worked. It usually did, but there were some times that it didn't at his age, and you always had to check. He retracted his fangs now, and turned around. Walking back, he looked around, letting out a pointless sigh. It had been a long time since he compelled anyone. Usually he didn't find it necessary, and it definitely wasn't fun. But in this case, it had to be done. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Sep 30 2011, 06:31 AM Post #10 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Nevneni watched this wide-eyed, edging back towards the tavern and pressing her back against the wall. The people in the tavern crowded at the door and windows to watch the spectacle- she didn't notice. She felt detached, floating away from reality as she watched these people try to kill each other. Her consciousness left her body, leaving her fingertips, her limbs dry, and she felt as if her mind hovered somewhere above her head, outside her body. And again, even weeks later, all she could think about was the man in the forest, felled by her knife, and her insides coiled up like writhing snakes. Finally, she was pulled back to earth by Vorkael's words. Yes...healing. That was what she was here for. She went to the man crumpled by the door, pressing her fingers into his soft, stubbled neck to find his pulse. He was alive, he'd just been hit on the head. A painful thing to wake up to, for sure, but she found she didn't care. He deserved the pain if he was so intent on attacking the innocent, perhaps he'd think again next time. She winced- she hadn't thought like this before. You've killed someone and now you want to play god... Feeling ill, she rushed over to the other man, who was also alive, but would be heavily bruised about the neck. Simple healing jobs, but more importantly, the satyr was despairing, speaking nonsense. She found she couldn't care much about the aggressors- they'd be fine for now- and knelt by the satyr, placing a hand on his back despite the smell of his unwashed body. "You were attacked, it's not your fault," she said soothingly, though the words sounded strange to her. Wasn't that what Vorkael had said when- Why must you think only of yourself? "They will be fine. If you come with me I can make you some tea, to calm you and clear your head. And everything-" she couldn't help a sigh, "-everything will be fine." |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Sep 30 2011, 12:33 PM Post #11 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
"Yes...yes. Everything will be fiiiine." The Satyr scratched his head, then tugged on his beard with a faint jingling of the bell, and got to his feet. Or hooves. His eyes had lightened to the color of a cloudy summer sky, and now flicked back to the door of the tavern, curious faces already trying to peer through the windows at the three of them. The young man who smelled of the dead wind of a tomb was holding up two drunkards some distance away, talking in a low tone with them, while the girl rested a hand on his back. He shivered, tasting the iron. "You know I would much rather just..be on my way. Mmyes. Find a nice bath and...and just...go. They look hungry as a scarecrow in a slaughterhouse with the china. I am quite fine. Yes. Spectacular even! Thank you for your concern dear girl but I must away before my coach turns into a pumpkin!" Swaying slightly he made several steps then leaned on the fence with a groan, snorting through his flattish nose, and taking deep breaths. Slapping his tail against the dusty ground he straightened up, grinding his teeth as the knife still potruding from his shoulder shifted. "You know, it smells like rain. It smelled like that on the boat. The wind is changing." For a moment is seemed a light shadow hung by him, tall and willowy, barely seen. Then it was gone, and his hat was back in his hands. Had he even bent down to pick it up? He twisted the wick of the candle between forefinger and thumb, then placed it gingerly on his head. "Thank you Florence." |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Oct 3 2011, 05:16 AM Post #12 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
Vorkael had faintly heard the words, though concentration had nearly blotted them out and handed them to him several seconds after they'd occurred. He shook his head slightly, addressing the satyr. "Just stay a minute to get that knife out. My friend here can help with the healing process. I will also get their persons from staring and muttering - they're starting to bother me too." The vampire walked to Nevneni and laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Help him. Asking if he would accept restorative blood is a good idea, I think. I'll get these people away from the windows." Only the few seconds of contact and he took his hand away, striding back to the door and in, gesturing and looking angry. "I think you all saw what I did to those two men, and how fast I moved. You better get away from those damn windows and mind your own business before I throw around a few of you." Most of them slowly, reluctantly returned to previously vacated seats, some stumbling and giggling still. The ones that were left, he growled at. "There's nothing left to see, really. She's going to heal some people. So exciting. Get away from the windows! Now." Satisfied with their scurrying, he picked up her pack as an afterthought and went outside, glancing around for her. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Oct 3 2011, 07:01 AM Post #13 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Nevneni had no idea what the satyr was saying but she nodded in agreement with whatever it was...until she saw the knife still protruding from his shoulder. Gods! How did I miss that? She suffered a brief moment of panic- she hadn't been paying attention during the fighting, she told herself it wasn't her fault. She nodded to Vorkael and stood up, walked over to the satyr, gingerly touching his uninjured shoulder, saying in a soft voice, "Come now, I can heal your...wounds." The fact that he didn't acknowledge the knife was unnerving, and she recalled that there were sometimes people who were shot with arrows but didn't really notice it, for the pain was washed away by shock and fear. In such cases, it was sometimes a worse idea to tell them what was happening, lest they try to remove the weapon themselves. This man, who was especially affected by iron if the stories she heard were true, was in a fair bit of danger, there was no way she was going to let him leave. She was distracted for a moment as the vampire yelled at the people in the tavern, but, knowing that Vorkael would be Vorkael, ignored him and gently hooked her arm with the satyr's, murmuring, "If you just come back inside, we can get rid of the pains, the marks of this event." She paused, thought and then added, "And after that, perhaps we all can have a drink." If the incentive of healing didn't attract him, then the promise of alcohol probably would. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Oct 3 2011, 08:29 AM Post #14 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
Twitching his ears vigorously at the commotion, first flattening against his head like a frightened animal, then fluttering like a deer listening for the sound of a predator, then lying back again as he moved, hunching down, pain shooting through his back. Aching, numbing. He almost jumped and lashed out as the girl took his arm and began trying to lead him back inside, speaking of healing and alcohol. He licked his lips nervously, pupil-less eyes darting from Vor to Nevneni to the tavern, and back to the woods bordering the road. A pretty girl and a drink, and no more holes in him. Yes. That did sound good after all. Why had he thought of running away in the first place? He felt it again, the silent call of the trees, beckoning, like an unheard song, lamenting his absence. Foojoe lashed the ground with his tail and allowed himself to be led towards the door, anxiety warring with the desire for another drink. His legs ached to run through the tall grass, crunching dried leaves of last fall beneath his hooves, powerful muscles bunching and relaxing as he bounded over the land, soaring past at an exhilarating rate... Blinking he realized he was not running at all but being gently eased back into the room where wary tavernfolk eyed them suspiciously, those too drunk to care ignoring them completely. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of the spirits, both fresh and spilled, and curled his lip at the stench of human mingled in with the old beer, straw and smoke, cooking and fear. Stamping a hoof on the wooden flooring he glanced at the girl holding his elbow and remarked, "Watch yourself with your friend, he's more than human, and I wager waggling his stamens for your pleasure young lady." Grinning lazily he swayed, twitched and fell on his face onto the straw covered floor. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Oct 3 2011, 09:38 AM Post #15 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
Vorkael followed after, still holding Nevneni's bag. With a glance back, he realized that he'd probably have to make sure of the two men on the ground. One was just laying there, probably contemplating getting up, and the other was still unconscious. He'd more than likely wake up soon. With nothing but a twitch of his lips, he decided he couldn't care less at the moment. They could deal with the mess he'd left them, if it came to that. The vampire looked steadily at the other man. "She knows quite well what and who I am. And no," he said, with a grinding of teeth. He figured maybe he could have just been quiet, let her react as she would, and probably understand he simply didn't want to say anything to the silly satyr's statement. Oh well. With a shrug, he placed the bag at the bar again, by Nevneni. Atleast he hadn't said less than human, or not human. Of course, he porobably didn't know exactly what he was - just running on instinct. Much like the anthro Nevada back at the other inn what, a month ago now? It had seemed like time stretched longer in this situation. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Oct 3 2011, 10:26 AM Post #16 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Nevneni lowered her head under the stares of the people in the tavern, hiding her face behind her hair, as if hoping they wouldn't notice her that way. She jumped when he stamped, then talked to her. "W-what?" It all sounded like nonsense to her- she had no idea what a "stamen" was, but it didn't sound pleasant. She looked at Vorkael and realized what the satyr was trying to say, and barely had time to turn pale and feel ill before he keeled over and fell heavily on the ground. She only just managed to avoid being dragged down with him, and was left standing there, unable to move for a moment. She did not want to think about that, she did not want to consider it. It was as if a box in her mind creaked open, and the shadows within glared out, threatening her. She clenched and unclenched her hand several times, and when that motion didn't work, she bit her lip, hard, and was brought back to earth. Yes. Injured man. Focus. She reached for her bag, and kneeled beside the satyr, rummaging through it. She pulled out a rag, and a vial of Vorkael's blood (she thought it best that the properties of the substance be kept a secret from the general public), and then stared at the prostrate man for a moment, figuring out how this would work. First, the blade must be removed, then the medicine forced down his throat somehow before he bled too much. After half a minute, she rolled him onto his side (with great effort) and gestured to Vorkael, summoning him to her side. "I need you to cover his wound with the rag after I've pulled out the blade," she said, handing the bit of cloth to him. Without further ago, she gripped the knife with both hands and pulled it out. The effort it took and the sound of the blade sliding out made her feel ill again. She paused for a moment- a moment too long- as that night flooded back to her, the knife in the man's leg, his chest... Not now! She got up, swallowing the nausea away and uncorking the vial with her teeth, and kneeled by the man's head. Despite the trembling that flooded into her body, she managed to prop up his head with one hand and tip the blood into his mouth with the other. A sigh slipped from her lips- now she'd have to wait. It wouldn't take long for the blood to take effect, and his shoulder would be healed and perhaps even some of his horn would grow back, she didn't know. She sat down heavily on the floor and closed her eyes, rocking slightly to dispel the dark thoughts that kept returning to haunt her. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Oct 4 2011, 11:09 AM Post #17 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
The blade came free from his shoulder with a wet sucking noise, blood immediately seeping from the wound and slicking his back. Foojoe stirred, mumbling faintly about tea and water nymphs, then lapsed back into unconsciousness, his eyelids flickering fitfully. Foojoe! Foojoe get up! Come on now, this sin't the time to be sleeping on the job, we have tables to dance to, and a moon to catch! Get up! Diadan Locke! Move your fat hairy rump this instant! He coughed as something wet and sticky slid down his throat, bringing with it the taste of sickly sweetness, like the stink of decay might taste. Eyes nearly popping out of his head, he scrabbled at his throat, taking a deep gurgling breath and nearly shrieking, yelped, "What in the Nine Hells is THAT?!" He made a motion as if he would retch then let go of his throat and levered himself from the wooden boards, groaning as the muscles across his back tightened. Seeing the girl rocking back and forth with a haunted look about her, he stopped, still rolling his tongue around his mouth experimentally. "It's like chewing a dead marmot steeped in beech syrup and then spread on a lump of charred shoe leather...I think I like it." The Satyr stood for a moment, thoughtfully stroking his bear, the little silver bell jangling before he reached out and hauled Nevneni rather ungracefully to her feet and near lifting her from the ground pranced quickly to the bar and back in a quick whirling dance, the faintest sound of pipes echoing in his head. Or was it in the air around them? "Thank you Lady. And thank you..." he narrowed his eyes at Vor, running one tongue around his lips. One tongue, of course. Did he even have two? He couldn't remember. Maybe he lost the other in Angkar. Actually he knew a good rhyme about Angkar. Fluttering his ears in sudden nervousness he released Nevneni and took a step back away from the vampire, stirring the straw on the floor with his tail. He really didn't like the look the man was giving him and cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the odd taste, his wound tingling like an itch that demanded scratching. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Oct 4 2011, 11:48 AM Post #18 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
Vorkaeldid the job with his rag, placing it over the wound. Within a few moments there were spots of blood soaking through. As soon as she gave the satyr his blood from the cork, though, that stopped and it began healing by itself, first to stop bleeding. "What in the Nine Hells is THAT?!" He couldn't help himself grin, and removed the rag right before the guy decided to get up. With a fluid motion, he stood himself, placing the slightly bloody rag on the counter with a gesture; on it clean side, of course. After a moment the bartender cleaned it. He watched the man grab Nevneni unceremoniously and dance, and this was slightly amusing. A little worrying too, with what he'd seen the satyr could do, but from all else that he'd seen, he meant no harm. And so when he went to thank him, he dipped his head and replied, "You're welcome." The bartender wrung the rag out, then hung it on a nail in the wall to dry. Vorkael turned back to watch the two. His wound would be completely healed by now, and his horn would grow back, but very slowly. Like, taking days slowly. "If you want your horn to grow back, don't mess with the area for a few days. It'll get there eventually." With that, he smiled and sat at the bar, crossing his arms and resting against the wood of the counter. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Oct 4 2011, 12:23 PM Post #19 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Nevneni's arm felt defiled with the remembrance of the knife in her hand, the shock that had run up her arm when it had been plunged in. She could not forget, it- suddenly she was being dragged up, whirled into a dance as if carried by the wind in a storm. It took her a moment to register what was happening, then the satyr's face came into focus before her. Just as quickly, he left her, and she stood there for a moment, dizzy, and then found herself laughing. She wished these things happened more often- people tended to not pay attention to her the way this strange man did. She went to his side, smiling again, and put a hand on his arm to relieve his apparent tension. "Yes, you should get your horn back. Things will be fine. And I don't believe I caught your name?" Before he really had time to answer, a thought occurred to her, and a jolt charged through her body. The men outside! How could she have forgotten? She slapped her forehead, realized that the action looked stupid, and hid behind her hair immediately, peering out at the people around her. They were staring, wide-eyed- no doubt mystified at the satyr's sudden recovery. Tension built up in her chest; she would have preferred to avoid performing such healing when there weren't people to watch, lest they perceive her as a miracle-worker. She went to Vorkael's side and stood on her tiptoes to get closer to his ear, whispering, "Those men outside, I need to heal them, but I don't want...him getting angry. Can you get them? I'll...distract him. With a drink. Or something." She looked over at him warily, further tension coiling up inside her. After a moment's hesitation, she handed a coin to the barkeep and nodded her head towards the satyr, then touched the man on the arm again, saying gently, "How about a drink? To calm your nerves." |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Oct 4 2011, 12:55 PM Post #20 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
Again that tugging inside, the scent of the forest, the wind on his face. Someone was calling him, like a whisper on the back of the brain. It was irritating. But who would be calling now, and least of all for him? Rolling his shoulders he noticed he felt no discomfort, merely the violated feeling of coming into contact with the iron, and even that, though lingering, wasn't as terrible as the throbbing in his temples that had begun building. Like a tiny man in his head beating on his skull with a mallet. What if there was a tiny man in there? Could he hear his thoughts even then? Eeny meeny miny mo, catch a tiger by the toe...no wait..was it a tiger, or a rabbit? Ridiculous, a tiger would surely eat his face. Gingerly he touched his horn and wondered if the tiny man in his skull could feel that too. It ached but nothing serious. He didn't even mind all that much missing half of it. It probably made him look more rugged. Grinning lopsidedly, he allowed the girl to lead him towards the bar again with talk of a drink, though it was difficult to focus with the drumming going on. Opening his mouth, he almost uttered that cursed name, then twisted his tongue into a knot. Or was it two tongues? He had half a mind to shove his fist into his mouth and find out. "Ah...mmyes. Foojoe. A beautiful lady with trees in her name and wind in her face gave it to me. Do you have a name, oh wondrous healer?" Rubbing his chin he offered a rueful smile. "I haven't lost my temper like that since a cat sat on my face with a custard pie and no cherries. I didn't kill anyone did I?" Worry entered his voice, his face falling into concern, ears flopping dejectedly. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Oct 5 2011, 08:52 AM Post #21 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
"I think he'll be fine, but of course. I was about to say something too..." he muttered to the air as she left his side. "You didn't kill anyone...I saved you from bleeding out and you're ignoring me..." He muttered quietly some more, sulking a little as 'Foojoe' gave all his attention to Nevneni. Not that he was unhappy because of that, well...he was, sort of. It was good to see someone paying attention to her, but he was a loony, potentially dangerous individual. He was getting ignored like she'd done all the work. Getting the knife out was good, but honestly it was his blood that had saved the silly thing's life. He growled, then left and brought one of the men back into the tavern unceremoniously, stomping out to get another. Realizing he was being childish, he brough the other in quietly beside his companion and went to the bar, gaze clear and back straight. "I need another drink, bartender. And probably one after that. I need a heavy buzz and that's going to take a bit." The woman chuckled and got him one, and he slipped a coin to her and picked up the mug, taking a gulp. He turned his entire body to watch the rest of the bar. Some patrons looked away quickly. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Oct 7 2011, 02:43 AM Post #22 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
Nevneni blushed heavily. "Oh no, I'm no-" But then again, it certainly would seem she was some sort of miracle-worker- people around them were whispering, marvelling at how quickly the wound had healed.. "I'm Nevneni." His story about the cat sounded...interesting, though she had no idea what he was talking about. "How rude of...him. Forgetting the cherries." She hoped it was the right thing to say. Vorkael didn't seem happy about the whole affair but there wasn't much she could do- she had to go help these other men. She dithered on the spot for a moment and then said, "Really, it's Vorkael you should be thanking. I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything without his help." With that she went off to help the other two men, crouching down beside them and checking on their status. They'd be fine- one would wake up with a headache from his wound, the other would have a bruised neck. She treated the one who Vorkael had nearly strangled first, rubbing his throat with some arnica balm. She didn't have much left so didn't give him as much as she normally would have, and then looked him in the eye. "You should probably get out. You can get your...friend later." He hesitated, sitting up slowly. She swallowed- she didn't like threatening people, she hardly knew how to, but she did not want to see this man any more. So she jerked her head towards Vorkael, saying, "It's for your health." And he was soon gone. Watching him go, she saw that many were craning their heads to see if she'd work more miracles. Self-conscious, she stared at the other man's head for a moment. She couldn't think...Blood, coagulating in his hair. She pulled a rag from her pack and leaned over the bar, asking the bartender to have it soaked in water. As she waited, she smiled at Vorkael and Foojoe, trying to be encouraging or accommodating or something positive that didn't reek of her constant angst and anxiety. Such things wouldn't be exactly...conducive to favourable relations between these two. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Foojoe | Oct 7 2011, 12:44 PM Post #23 |
![]()
Ecce homo qui est faba
![]()
|
Foo frowned as the woman, blushing and muttering, walked away from him. Rolling his shoulders in a shrug he sighed, the drumming in his skull growing ever-worse. Producing a coin from dark recess, he slapped it down on the counter, gleaming dully. "Two Aluvian Firewine's...and one Dark Elven Tequila. To start. Hah!" After a moment he received the drinks and pushed one at the vampire with a friendly leer. "Get that in you lad! I wager you're made of sterner stuff than that lot but even if it won't boil your socks while they're on your feet it'll do. Mmyes." Taking the tequila himself, he knocked it back with a stunning ferocity, then allowed himself to lift his feet and drop his backside onto a stool. The hangover would abate before it grew worse. At least it better. He hoped. He wasn't sure entirely of what the girl had given him, and he didn't honestly want to know. Whatever it was had worked wonders and even sobered him faster than he'd ever been, but left that sickly sweet cloying taste in his mouth. A disturbing taste. "Thank you...Vorkael was it? Yes, thank you. Don't tell me exactly what it was I'm thanking you both for, please...I'll just assume I owe you a debt and you can call me on it." He wondered whether he should have saved the grapefruit and tried to barter with him. He might not even like grapefruit. Setting the other mug onto the bar for the elf-girl he peered into his mug, turning his head first one way, then the other, admiring the horn, now slightly worse for wear. It had been chipped before but now it was missing a good piece, left somewhere outside no doubt. How rugged he looks, oh yes, and fierce! Grr..ahh yes Foojoe go on, give me a smile, a growl! RRRR! Foojoe you dog! How feral! He rubbed his beard thoughtfully with a wry grin at his reflection, baring his sharp teeth then gingerly touched his horn. It didn't hurt, but it felt funny. Oh it was hard enough to touch but he felt as though it should be soft, like a reptile egg. Soft and wilting. "Oh Florence, that's dirty...pfftt...ahahaha!" Chuckling he sipped from the mug appreciatively, still grinning like a lunatic. |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Vor | Oct 12 2011, 11:46 AM Post #24 |
![]()
A vampire in control of his urges
![]()
|
With a small smile and a nod he pulled the firewine closer, but decided he would atleast finish the one he'd pay for. "You're thanking us for healing you, of course. Possibly saving your life. I won't tell you what she gave you, though, since that's what you mean. Thanks for the wine as well. That could be your debt paid if we never meet again, which seems...probable. This world is a large one." With a chuckle, he knocked his own normal beer back, and pushed it across the bar a bit. Vorkael gestured towards the rag and glanced at Nevneni next to him now - the bartender wet her first rag, and gave both to her, then took his used mug back to clean. He dropped his head a little, glancing at the satyr now. Who was Florence? There had been that strange occurrence outside, and he'd said the name...three times now? Maybe more? He wasn't sure. Now the vampire grabbed the wine and took a hefty gulp of it, steeling himself. And it did burn. He held back the cough, clearing his throat before grinning. He normally didn't drink stuff this strong. Stupid, really. One, maybe two of these, would get his head buzzing as much as five of the ale and beer he normally got. Less expensive overall, he wagered - a good thing to watch out for since he did nothing to bring in money. Now that he thought about it, why didn't he ask for a small portion of Nevneni's earnings? Atleast, any time she had to use his blood. His little pouch of coins was very slowly dwindling. "Who is Florence?" he asked when his mind wandered back to the topic of the man talking to...himself or whatever, his curiosity getting the better of him. With a furrowing of his brow he turned his body back towards the bar and took another gulp of the fiery wine, keeping his eyes down as he thought and waited for Foojoe's answer, if he was going to give one. He would atleast acknowledge his question, he knew that much. Whether the satyr would tell him who Florence was or evade, or do something entirely different was another matter. (blaaaaaah, sorry for taking so long and stuff >_<) |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| Nevneni | Oct 15 2011, 12:04 AM Post #25 |
![]()
Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
![]()
|
(:D) "Oh no, you don't have to-" But the satyr had gone ahead and ordered the drinks. With a sigh she accepted hers, smelling it first before taking a small sip. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut as it burned its way down her throat, but the aftertaste was quite pleasant, and her mouth felt warm. Opening her eyes, she realized that she had made a variety of strange and unpleasant facial expressions, and immediately hid behind her hair, muttering something about promising to come back to the drink later. The bartender brought back the cloth and handed it over with a smile, which Nevneni returned, though she wondered if it was a smile or a grimace. Feeling embarrassed, she crouched by the second man and gently cleaned the wound, thinking. She was unwilling to expend too much effort on this man- he was a criminal and before she wouldn't have paid much mind to that, she would have erased his pain, wasted the last of the arnica balm on him and insisted that he rest. But after what happened that night in the forest, after the things Vorkael said, she wondered if she really had to do that. People had to learn from their mistakes. They had to pay a price, just as she had for killing that man; her skin was mostly healed but scarred, and she slept even less than before for thinking about him. So this man would have to learn too, she decided. She'd do enough to prevent infection and numb his pain enough for him to get home, but no more than necessary. She breathed in, held the air in her lungs for a moment, then exhaled, steeling herself, and then set to work. A bit of arnica balm to promote healing, no more than a smidgen, and some of the paste of her own invention, with clove oil to numb pain, a hint of garlic to prevent infection and several inactive plants to bind it all together. She slapped him on the face gently, and he opened his eyes blearily. "Look at me," she said, holding up three fingers, "How many fingers am I holding up?" He blinked, confused, and after a moment, replied, "Three?" "Alright, you can go." He got up slowly and wandered out the door, leaving Nevneni to pack up. Finally, that was off her hands. She seated herself next to Vorkael, wrapping her small hands around the mug and peering into the dark wine within. Normally, she wasn't the type to drink much- the thought had once terrified her because she feared being in a compromised state, especially in the company of others. But she felt obliged to drink this because Foojoe had bought it for her. In any case, Vorkael was there. She trusted him not to...do anything. The first night they'd met, she had been under the influence of his blood and he'd not taken advantage of that, so she didn't think he would now. A strange feeling, trusting someone. She hadn't done it in so long. So she tipped back the mug and drank, trying to keep her face from contorting again. A difficult task- she wound up looking like she was trying to pass gas silently, or that's what she supposed it must look like. The thought made her grin compulsively, and laugh silently, the warmth spreading from her mouth and throat to her stomach. "Not bad!" she said, nodding to Foojoe, "It's almost worth the burning!" |
| (OFFLINE) PROFILE | QUOTE GO TO TOP |
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Roleplays · Next Topic » |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2




















