Worlde Arcane: The Lorimar Road 9: Bridgewest

Friday, August 11, 2006 - 3:22 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene smiled at the girl. "Well, Ila then. I will show yew how to make something wholesome and filling."

Taking the girl under wing, she lead the girl about the forest, they gathered pine cones, some edible mosses, and acorns.

When they returned to camp Helene showed Ila how to pulverize them into a flour like substance. Using some water, salt and a little sugar she made a flat crepe like bread from it. Then placing the flattest rock she could find in the fire, she placed the small flat "cakes" on the rock to cook, turning them over from time to time. "Yew can flavor them with honey, or jams if yew have them, at home we put slices of fruit on them."

Saturday, August 12, 2006 - 9:27 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Viktor grumped about the camp when the girls wondered off. He had half a mind to just go one without them...but he was tired, and would likely just get lost.

So he busied himself with little things about the camp. For starters, he pulled out the bag of coins he had been paid and hid it in the saddle bags that he planed to use for a pillow. Then he inspected the state of his coat, and reasoned that once in Dealows he would need to purchase a new one...and new boots.

And when the girls returned he ignored them for the most part, before eventually rolling his eyes.

"Oh please. We aren't cooking for a king, she just needs to make it eatable."

Friday, August 18, 2006 - 1:10 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Ili watched curiously, actually interested in what Helene was showing her. If nothing else, it made her feel like she had something to contribute and besides, it was something she could do that Viktor couldn't.

So she simply scoffed in the thief's general direction, "And wouldn't you be complaining about the taste if some effort wasn't made, after all, you spend all that time dressing yerself up like a king." Look at his hat. Not that she has room to talk about the dressing thing.

Then she smiles at Helene, "I think it's a fine way to make dinner. The honey and jams sound lovely."

Friday, August 18, 2006 - 3:00 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

When the meal was done, she handed some to Ila, smiling. Then with an indication of her hand, she said. "Sire, there is sustenance here if yew require it. If not....I'm sure yew can find something more to yer liking within yer own stores." With that Helene bit into her pine cake.

It was going to be a long ride with her benefactor, best she make it as short as possible. She'd known some rude Umans in her time, and he wasn't the worst of them, but he was certainly....uptight. The girl was unprepared for travel as a demoted queen, but at least she was pleasant and willing.

Looking away from Viktor to his horse she smiled, animals always knew.

"I'll take the watch for this evening, I'll be up in the tree there. Feel free to rest and get yer strength and energy back."

Monday, August 21, 2006 - 7:54 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Viktor snorted while he watched them, mouthing Ili's retort. Ooooh, he dressed like a king, Oh! Women. They always had to be complicated about things. Viktor didn't care what his food tasted like, so long as it fed him.

"Oooh, Miss Prim and Proper wants to make jabs at me, will she?" He shook his head before fishing out some dried jerky. "Make yer cakes, Miss Ila, but if the Elf posions yew, it isn't my fault."

Wednesday, August 23, 2006 - 1:58 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Ili quite happily tried the cake, which certainly looked far more appetizing than the dried jerky she watched Viktor gnaw on. "I hardly think she has any reason to poison me." Though she certainly was implying that she didn't think it beneath Helene if Helene thought it meet to poison Viktor.

"And you by my name if you please." Hmph. And, finishing her cake, the girl went to try to make herself vaguely comfortable on the ground to sleep. Mostly so she had an excuse to turn her back on the thief.

Friday, August 25, 2006 - 5:00 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene listened to the two interact with one another. Umans were far too.......reactive. Eating slowly, the bardess finished her meal, then let the two fend for themselves.

She'd wander the perimeter, set up a few simple traps to alert her to any dangers approaching their "camp". Rubbing her fingers clean of the meal, she stood. Without a word she moved into the forest to attend to their safety.

Sunday, August 27, 2006 - 5:44 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

ooc: from Enchanter's Way - Forest's Edge

Quillia moved silently on. The sounds of an argument reached her ears, and she sneaked forward with caution, her smaller hunting bow at the ready with arrow notched.

She soon saw a pretty elven woman setting some small alert-traps while two Umans snipped at each other inside their camp. A faint scent of jasmine came to her as she moved closer to the Umans.

Quillia quickly scampered up an oak tree. . . then perched above and to the north of the trio, contemplating what was below. . . and what was beyond.

Sunday, August 27, 2006 - 8:50 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Viktor made a face at Iliana's turned back, but did little to continue provoke her. It wasn't worth it really...to provoke her. Instead he chewed on his jerky with some annoyance, taking little notice that Helene had moved off to do whatever it was the elf felt she needed to do.

But as much as he was willing to ignore Iliana, he found his attention drawn back to her and her busy-bodiness.

"What do yew really plan on doing with all those coins that Tiki fellow gave us?" He asked suddenly, annoyed with silence.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006 - 6:12 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

She was tempted to say nothing, pretend sleep. But the ground was hardly comfortable and it was her own quirk that prevented her from letting him get in the last word, as it was. Even if the last word was a question.

So she sighed and sat up, turning so she looked at him in profile -- from her best side, it might be mentioned. "I can't say I have a plan for them. I simply don't think it should be you who holds them all." Which really means she's never held so much gold in her life and is rather loath to give it up to someone she hardly knows.

Even if she's given him other things....

Tuesday, August 29, 2006 - 8:04 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

The mention of coins perked up Quillia's ears. Her own pockets were nearly empty of the same, and here was a chance, possibly, to snag up a bit of money. . . but she relaxed, her back against the tree trunk as she considered her options.

She thought maybe she would approach them and ask to spend the night within the shelter of their camp. Then run a shill game, perhaps Knottes, one a Uman most likely had never encountered before and bilk them, coin after coin, until she had emptied all their purses. . . or nearly -- or wait for that late hour when even the elf who proclaimed she would take watch was fuzzy-brained from lack of sleep then sneak into their camp and snatch the girl's bag or purse and be gone before they knew what hit them.

Then again, she thought, maybe I'll just move on.

Friday, September 1, 2006 - 3:44 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Viktor snorted a bit, eyeing Iliana carefully. She didn't think it was best that he held all the coin? She? A woman who had loose fingers, and a fleeting mind to go along? How in all of Arcane did she think to hold on to it all?

"Yew shouldn't let it just hang about yew," He said, pulling his gaze away from her face. She did have lovely lips, and her hair had the scent of lavander in it the night before...and her eyes. Not that he really noticed such things...not really. He didn't care for the girl, not beyond the company she had given him the night before.

But...

Her bosom was perfect, her hips and ankels to match. And if he ever had half a mind to settle upon one lass in the whole of the worlde, it might be a lass like her.

Not that he cared for Iliana in the slightest. He was rather hoping a band of merry bandits would happen by. Perhaps he could sell her off for her weight in coin. Though, he'd have to ask extra for those bloody dresses she bought. The girl couldn't really weigh enough to fetch enough coin to be worth it...her tongue was a down side.

"Someone might try to steal it, or worse...just shake ye about until it all comes tumbling out of whatever knook and craney ye have hidden it all in."

Saturday, September 2, 2006 - 8:55 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene was just finishing her trap sets. She could hear the two arguing about coin. Her thoughts were heavy with contempt for the two Umans. So often she found that the race was too caught up in the "things" they could acquire rather then the that which could be enjoyed.

As she made her way back to the area she could see where someone has made a trail through the brush and tall grasses. Scanning the area she saw nothing, but as she looked to the trees.....

She waited a moment thinking. Then she decided she would call the visitor out. "If yew two want to share yer fortunes with everyone in the vicinty with yer squabbling. Perhaps yew'd like to start with our newest visitor? She is more then interested in the subject matter of yer conversation." Helene spoke loud enough for all to hear. She then walked back into the encampment. She did not look at the two Umans but moved toward the steeds.

Saturday, September 2, 2006 - 10:16 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Quill felt like laughing aloud as the two Umans quipped back and forth about their shared coinage. She pulled back further into the cover of the tree's boughs as the tall woods elf started looking about.

Then: If yew two want to share yer fortunes with everyone in the vicinty with yer squabbling. Perhaps yew'd like to start with our newest visitor? She is more then interested in the subject matter of yer conversation.

The elf grimaced, wondering how the other elf could guess her interest in the coins, but shrugged nonchalently before sliding down the tree trunk to the ground.

Quill

"Ho, fellow travelers," she called out, trotting toward the campsite with an amused smile, "Could yew spare a morsel of food for a starvin' elf?"

The tattoos on her arms looked even darker in harsh sunlight as she stepped into view. She smiled broadly at the man, the Uman girl and the wood elf. "Is this the way to Seven Oaks?" she asked.

Sunday, September 3, 2006 - 12:49 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene turned to see the newcomer jaunting their way. She took in the tattoos and sense of the girl that had asked to join them. Something sent a chill through her, the symbols were not known to her but did not leave Helene with a comforting feel.

Though her comment about the coin conversation had been directed to the two Umans, in an effort to quiet them, as she laid eyes on the Half-Elf she couldn't dissuade the thoughts of a brigand. The girl looked like a scout or someone that knew her way around the rougher side of life.

Given that Viktor seemed to be in control (of a sort) of the situation, Helene did not acknowledge the self invite to their camp but answered the last question.

"Seven Oaks is that way." she indicated with a crook of her head. But not adding which direction they themselves were travelling. She continued to watch this newcomer, her dark coloring a contrast to Helene's own.

Wednesday, September 6, 2006 - 7:38 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Quill nodded to the trio as she stood, eight feet outside their camp. She carefully let her two bows slip down from her shoulder til the tips touched the ground. She saw the other elf studying her tatoos, and looked down at them herself.

"Aye," she said the the elfwoman, "Wizardly tatoos of the darkest sort. . . or so I'm told. . .I do na' even know their meaning myself, if yew must know."

She smiled, a slow grin that lit up her dark eyes briefly. "I shall be on me way, good people. . . unless yew would be interested in allowing me to cook a rabbit or two over yer fire. They are in my pack, shot them only an hour before." She leaned languidly on her bows. "Enough for everyone," she added.

Friday, September 8, 2006 - 8:57 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Viktor sat idly by, chewing his jerky slowly and in silence since Helene's mention of a vistor. And while the fact that she was a stranger (and an elf, or at least close enough to it for his books) weren't enough reson for him to be unwelcoming to the woman....she had wizardly markings on her! Magick, for all it's so called wonder, was the bane of life in his opinion. It was why he was sat here, in the middle of a nation he never really knew existed.

"Can't build yer own fire?" He asked suddenly brow jutting up as he shifted in his sit. Now the dagger in his belt was closer to his hand, giving him a better chance of drawing it in a timely manner. "And the elf fancied carpes...or some such fancy meal." He didn't mention his own food, instead twiddling the jerky between fingers as he watched the girl carefully.

Sunday, September 10, 2006 - 5:10 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

"Can't build yer own fire?"

Quill narrowed her eyes at the Uman male's abrupt statement. So much for being friendly.

The archer-woman raised an eyebrow. . . looked in the direction the other elf had pointed. She still leaned causually against her longbow, as if it were propping her up. "Aye," she said softly, thoughtfully, "I kin be builtin' me own fire."

She shouldered her bow with a movement, swift and fluid, then turned back to the trio. "Good day, to ya then, an' the Goddess Wift's most angelic safety upon ya, too. . . these woods be filled with unsavoury types, this we all know." She spit upon the ground. "Here's hopin' yew do not awake with arrows through yer hearts for there be those about who'd na' think twice of separatin' yew from that gold yew so carelessly banter about in loud voice. . . aye?"

With that, she trotted toward the cover of the trees.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006 - 1:15 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Ili sat in silence, watching the entire exchange.

As the newcomer turned to leave, the girl pulled her arms about her body. Suddenly, she felt a chill and she was in no mood to play games with Viktor (at least, for the moment). She very much wanted to be at home in her own bed where at least the dangers of the city were known dangers.

In a quiet voice, "can we just rest and then move on soon?" Or go back. Or...

Well, she wouldn't be resting this night anyway, not when every noise made in the forest would awaken her thinking they were about to be set upon by bandits.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006 - 3:20 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene watched the whole episode with interest. She was close to joining the other elf....

"If yew wish m'lady. I've no need to stay, but I would caution yew, moving about on the road, this late at night is a beacon to those that watch the roads.

Then as the other moved away from their encampment, Helene strode to where Viktor was. black{"If yew would be so kind....I would know why exactly yew are travelling to Daelows, and what the situation is between the two of yew. If yew decide not to divulge this information, I will be leaving yer company.}"

Helene stood over the man, waiting.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006 - 10:40 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Victor turned to look up at Helene with annoyance.

"Business..." He declared firmly, before pulling himself to his feet. "Have yew a problem with my answer? It matters not. But yew've been paid the coin, and if yew choose to leave so be it."

Though, a guide's help would be sorely missed. But the road, he decided though lead them to Daelows, and by that logic they should hardly get lost.

"As for Iliana and I...we have no relationship, beyond we are..." he paused for a moment, a look of regret crossing his face, "paid to be doing the same business."

Thursday, September 14, 2006 - 5:48 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Quill walked slowly back onto the road, a short distance, then continued on her way to the Bridge itself.

ooc: TO The Bridge

Friday, September 15, 2006 - 5:09 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

ooc: Okay adjusting for traveling

Quilla moved along as darkness fell. She stopped a good hour's travel from the unfriendly trio she'd just met.

She quickly built a small fire and roasted her two rabbits, spitting them first on sharpened alder spears. After she'd eaten, she put out her fire and climbed up into a tall cedar tree, breaking off a branch to pad herself for the night.

Tomorrow, she thought, I will journey quickly and hopefully make it to the bridge over the river. Then she went to sleep.

Saturday, September 16, 2006 - 4:11 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Ili watched them both, bit her lip, turning away again. It shouldn't bother her, Viktor's statement about them. It was certainly the truth, but...

...But nothing. She was simply feeling this way because she was currently feeling vulnerable out here and men were good at doing the protecting thing, that's all.

Really.

"If that's settled. I'll be sleeping now."

She didn't wait for a response, curling up on the small pallet she'd created, and closing her eyes to feign sleep.

Saturday, September 16, 2006 - 4:29 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene pursed her lips at the man. Then digging into her small pocket in her tunic she fetched out a few coins. Tossing them on the ground before Viktor she said. "Here is yer precious coin sir. All that yew seem to be civil to with yer demeanor, I assume because it can't speak back to yew. I will not be pulled further into yer business without knowing what that business is. Yew have purchased my knowledge and ability, but not my self respect. If yew wish me to continue with our arrangement....yew will tell me why yew are going to Daelows, and why the two of yew travel together. If the next words from yer lips are anything but civil, and are not concerning yer situation, I will be forced to leave yew here, in the dark, on this road and make my own way." She continued to stand over Viktor....waiting.

Friday, September 22, 2006 - 4:45 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

OOC> to the Bridge

Friday, September 29, 2006 - 6:12 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

"Then be on yer way, Elf. I have no reason to give ye details to my business." He himself was pressed to really understand it, and was in no way about to try to explain it to anyone else. "If yew cannot be satistfied with that answer then so be it. I bid ye farewell."

Saturday, September 30, 2006 - 12:23 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene nodded once. Looked down at the ground thinking, then nodded to herself again.

She turned and approached her steed. She readied him for riding.

By Freya, Aka...Dyess....The long lost one. (Freya)

Thursday, October 5, 2006 - 8:33 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Helene mounted her steed, pulling the horse about, she nodded coolly to Viktor then to the lady. "Safe travel to yew."

With then she slowly rode from the small encampment. Looking in either direction, she remembered the tattooed elven woman.

She turned toward Seven Oaks.

(to the next road way)

Wednesday, November 15, 2006 - 9:37 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

The guide left which wasn't really a terrible thing in itself, Viktor imagined, but there was a sense of annoyance. Iliana had turned her back to him and settled into an uneasy sleep as she jumped at each noise the night made.

Settling down, Viktor was left to make the best of it as he gatherd up the coins that the elf had returned to him, and hid them away with his other coin.

Perhaps he would just be better off going back to his theiving ways and make off with what he had? Him and Stubborn...was a new worlde for him to explore, after all.

By Imp (Imp)

Monday, June 11, 2007 - 6:55 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

Enchanter's Way)

Amanda and her wolf continued hitching wagon rides towards Terajin. They played the 'a boy and his dog' part quite well. After the talkative farmer they got lucky and got picked up by a small caravan. Amanda promised 'his dog' can chase off wolves and even bears, and Imp proved by making caravan dogs slink off with tails between legs. From then on, Imp ate, then the dogs ate.

(TO:	the Bridge)

By Dirge Skiæzo-Påno (Dirge)

Sunday, June 17, 2007 - 12:03 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Bridge)

The road was unnervingly peaceful. Dirge had not felt such calm in his travels for some time now. Ancient as he was, he envied not youth. Youth received not this degree of pleasure in peace and quiet. This was the summation of all things! This was what he had lived so long for!

The eastward march continued. Just another three days, or so rumor had it.

By Dirge Skiæzo-Påno (Dirge)

Sunday, June 17, 2007 - 11:12 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Then, just as he had stepped off the bridge, he was accosted by a wolfish, shifty-looking little creature. What did this one want? Dirge turned his luminous eyes upon the thing and stared it down, not particularly impressed by this little diversion. But then, he noticed something else in the thing's eyes. A sentient light, it was! There was a devilish little mind tinkering away behind those glassy black pupils! He wondered what it wanted with him. 273 years in the worlde had taught him not to trust those that alter their appearance. Yet he felt a little spark of connection with the creature. He wondered what he might use it for...

Well, he would walk into the forest south of the woods. He had rituals to conduct... With a wave of his hand, Dirge motioned that the wolf may follow if it wished.

(TO:	The Forest's Edge)

By Imp (Imp)

Monday, June 18, 2007 - 6:29 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Bridge)

Tail wagging, Imp (in his wolf form, which by no imagination is 'shifty-looking' or 'little') walked on the dwarf's heels, following him into the woods.

Amanda jumped off the wagon. 'Bimp!', she called after Imp, his public identity, 'Bimp!... Darned stupid dog! ... Gon', we'll catch up!", she called the driver and set off after Imp.

Knowing she couldn't talk to Imp to see what he was up to while out in public, she followed at a distance.

(TO:	The Forest's Edge)

By Imp (Imp)

Friday, July 20, 2007 - 6:52 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

Forest's Edge)

Imp and the party made their way onto the road and headed for the nearest settlement. Which, from this particular location was the town of Zanzibar (or whatever the heck it's called) on The Bridge. (That's because they had but a few hours ago walked off of said Bridge but didn't go very far.)

(TO:	The Bridge)

By Dirge Skiæzo-Påno (Dirge)

Friday, July 20, 2007 - 8:08 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Dirge followed at an easy pace, a steady, light march. This was his specialty; nothing like a good march to clear the mind and cleanse the soul!

(TO:

Bridge)

Friday, December 28, 2007 - 8:32 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Dock Beneath the Bridge)

The cart gave a sudden lurch and began to trundle off down the Lorimar through the darkness. The single wavering flame, held aloft by the man’s grandson, gave precious little light, and the moon shining in the night sky gave little more. For the umans in the cart used to seeing by daylight this might not have been the most reassuring state of affairs, but Skylar’s elven eyes had no problem penetrating the darkness, although the usual bright colours of the worlde were muted more towards grey than usual.

Her lips quirked into a smile at Roy’s exchange with the Orc as the cart rattled along. The suggestion that a creature such as an Orc would have a cage to carry his ‘pet’ around was nothing short of ridiculous. She shook her head, rolling her eyes slightly, the smile breaking into a grin as she turned back to Cian.

“Very satisfied, thank yew,” she said mildly, “So long as it keeps those tentacle things away from me I’ve nothing against it.” She sat back in the straw, getting comfortable again in preparation of the miles yet to come.

By Beede the Snaggle (Beede)

Friday, December 28, 2007 - 9:08 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Beede's response to Cian's question had been to glance angrily at the moon, to take another overlong draught from her wineskin, and another. She had, it seemed, a similar answer to every other question after that, posed to her or not, asked aloud or not. Look away, look up, narrow the eyes and widen the throat.

Her laugh at the antics, at the monstrosities and feminine complaints, at Cian's habits and the threat of horrifying sickness, was perhaps overbright. The swing of skinny hips as the Snaggle hefted herself into the wagon held, perhaps, a little more promise than usual. Still, Beede was together, wholly observant, curled in warm, sweet hay. After all, she had been raised in taverns, and had the ounce of sense necessary to avoid the water in Terajin. A certain sobriety was maintained, though not for want of trying.

The girl eased back against her corner and wrapped her shabby, shapeless coat about her in the wet chill from the river - so different from Terajin's harsh, avoidable moods of weather. The landlocked city was easy; she could navigate it blindfolded and souless. The wetter lands insinuated themselves, complicated things. Beede breathed upward, her signs of life appearing in a series of quick, silver clouds.

Gray-green eyes closed, and the Snaggle carelessly shaped lips and breath to a ballad. Mostly she hummed in an ungentle voice at odds with the slack and sleepy manner. Here and there, though, a verse escaped - it was the story of how Pelaroan the Pale, one of the famed mage Affaridor's twelve apprentices, had meddled with certain books with the unfortunate consequence of no less than seven lovers' deaths, ardent young lives sacrificed to her curiousity. It wasn't astonishing that a Terajin girl should have heard even this more obscure Telling. However, it was unusual that it appeared at her fingertips, full formed, in the shade of wine and slumber.

The story ended with Pelaroan's eventual success, her third Creating, this one in the form of the golden beast Luit. Who had, of course, its own stories, many of them more famous and bloody than that of its own idle making. Beede did not venture into those Tellings, only starting back at the beginning in her slow, rough hum.

By Royce Dougland Windeaster (Roy)

Saturday, December 29, 2007 - 1:19 am GMT | Edit | Link |

A slight tilt in head spoke resolution to the high elf. The little thing seemed intelligent enough to take hints, and they tended to avoid things which threw them, which now included Sky. It would not be a worry, then.

Had he not heard the murmurs of sleep, however, Beede's odd little drinking game might have for a moment, for a twitch of a gossamer line. Separated from the promised water. Was this the way of preserving the feeling of sea-legs? Or else a way to regret the ragged separation. No business of his, in either mode, and he remained quiet of it. The girl was bright, odd, and of her own.

As such, he should not have been surprised at the rise of her song and steady murmur. He was, but did not show it. Only leaned on his staff, right arm curled around and up it like a vine, and listened to the verses not often sung.

Oddling. Oddling. She sang in her sleep.

Saturday, December 29, 2007 - 1:34 am GMT | Edit | Link |

“Me’s grateful that yew pay for boat and so me’s going to be …. Useful but if yews continues down dem lines me and yews going to have problems”

The Orcs rippling muscles below his scared and coarse dark-skinned leathery hide said all that needed to be said about how Rotgut dealt with problems. He didn’t trick or cheat or charm or manipulate, he simply saw a problem and removed it normally with accompanying screams and sound of doors splintering and furniture smashing.

Rather than allow himself to be baited into an argument that could only have been resolved through violence, Roy turned away from Rotgut and glared angrily out into the enveloping darkness, within which the younger man’s torch bobbed and flickered as though it floated upon an inky sea. The whispering woods to either side of the Lorimar sounded almost to be sniggering at his discomposure, their wayward branches singling him out from the others as the hollows in their mossy trunks leered out at him from the blackness. No doubt the Orc would be grinning that inane, lunatic grin to ceremonialize this perceived victory over the cavalier Uman aristocrat.

But Roy had not been cowed into submission by the Black Orc’s fearsome physique. The lordling recognised that he was no match for such an opponent - his swordplay would count for nothing against such brute strength - and he had no intention of throwing his life away in a battle he could not hope to win.

That was what peasants were for.

While Rotgut revelled in the power he wielded through his fists, Royce pursued influence by a more roundabout course - plucking at the tiny stones that would, in time, ensure an avalanche. A fistful of silver would buy the lordling sufficient muscle to match that of the Black Orc - drunks and militiamen, like as not - and dark alleys in which to lurk would prove plentiful in the slums of the Daelowsian capital. It was unlikely they would all emerge unscathed from such a fracas, but one expected collateral when making an investment such as this....
For all his noble heritage, the young lordling was not above tricking or cheating, charming or manipulating his way towards whatever ends he sought to realize, regardless of how bloody his own hands might become in the process.
Until then, he would have to keep a civil tongue - as irritating as it might be to fawn over that lumbering monster and its ‘rat’ familiar.

Saturday, December 29, 2007 - 12:21 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

As the cart rumbled on through the darkness Skylar watched Roy’s expression guardedly. For many minutes he looked angry, staring hard into the darkness as if the very trees themselves had insulted him. She had little concept of how far his uman eyes – eye – could see in the dark, and at first feared he had spotted some problem on the road ahead that she had missed, but it was not long before she realised he was merely staring aimlessly, lost in his own thoughts.

The change of expression was not a welcome one to Sky. The man had actually seemed to be in a good mood earlier, he had even smiled and looked pleasant and she had been hoping this would continue for quite some time. Now the Orc and its rat had upset him and it seemed it was not to be.

Even as she watched though Roy’s expression changed. The hard set of his handsome features spoke of one who was planning something cunning and underhand – someone who had a problem they needed to deal with. It was only a slight shift, but Skylar noticed it and she was afraid. She had seen that expression too many times on the faces of nobles – that expression that said they thought they were the masters’ of the worlde and could do anything they wanted. It never boded well and more often than not resulted in something nasty happening to her.

Royce had not worried her before, but now in that brief moment she was terrified. Even as she told herself she did not need to be afraid any longer, that he could do nothing to her now because he did not own her, she was scared. And she did not want to be scared – at least not of Royce.

With no thought other than shaking Roy out of whatever reflections had put such an expression onto his face Sky nudged her foot in the direction of his leg – his uninjured leg luckily, though she gave little thought to it.

“Royce,” she breathed softly, trying to attract the man’s attention. Even as she spoke his name though she realised she was being foolish. What was she supposed to say? What if he was angry with her for talking to him? If he could see her eyes through the darkness he would have seen the flicker of fear in their green depths, but whether it was now fear of him, or fear of her own foolishness, not even she could say.

Grabbing her bow she vaulted over the side of the cart, needing to be away from that expression, from all those things which reminded her too much of her past. A few quick steps brought her to the front of the cart where the young man carried the torch by which the horse was guided. At least from here her elven eyes would spot any danger long before the others.

By Rotgut Eyegoucha (Rotgut)

Saturday, December 29, 2007 - 2:13 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Dock Beneath the Bridge)

While the crippled noble seethed with anger and dark intent Rotgut was once more thinking about food, the thoughts of violence, scamp and the arrogant Uman noble long since past. Astride his haphazard tower of ignorance Rotgut did not even realise that a battle of wills had taken place. He had simply laid out his view clear as day and left it at that. It wasn’t it threat to his mind but a fact. Even had the simple minded Orc gathered as much he would have soon forgotten the incident for while quick to anger he was quicker to forgive and forget and the incident would have been long forgotten by day break.

As it was he was once again thinking about one of his favourite subjects, food, glorious food. What he wouldn’t do for a bag of Bolgraz infamous greasy pork bits. No one was sure which bit of the pig they came from and some even rumoured that it wasn’t pork at all but boy was it good. He good picture a delicious chunk glistening with grease and fat and if yew were lucky with a bit of bone thrown in, truly the food of the gods. However such delectable thoughts just made the coarse Black Orc even hungrier. He would have raised the subject with his companions but he doubted they, refugees themselves, would have much on them and they tended to get a little nervous when he talked about it. That said he could not hide the discontented rumbling of his empty yearning stomach and a low rustle originating from Orc’s bowels permeated the air.

It was then he remembered that the drivers had made some mention about bandits and robbers that might the area. Who knows if they were lucky they might come down and they could take what food they had. Now there was thought. Maybe if they were lucky they might have a guard dog, now that was good eating.

He noted the Elf disembark but otherwise paid the flighty maiden little attention. Rotgut's beady feral eyes, blessed like all of his god-forsaken race with dark-vision, were to busy scanning the shadows and hoping to spot trouble as he strode nonchalantly behind the ever trundling wagon

By Royce Dougland Windeaster (Roy)

Sunday, December 30, 2007 - 6:01 am GMT | Edit | Link |

All was not as it seemed. From light fright and sweet tempers, voices and tones had turned dark, sour. Save for the Orc, whose stomach claimed a change in thought, Royce’s shadowed silence and the uneasy thread of Sky’s voice broke what had been the sense of calm. Is this what a strange orcish pet could do? All was not as it seemed. It was much more than that.

But Cian said nothing, claimed nothing, nor did his expression change much from its perpetual mask. To all intents, he still seemed to listen to the girl’s contented humming for a snatch of the normal along the winding road.

Bandits, hungry for money and food as they might have been, seemed to be keeping to their beloved shadows thus far. Or else they hid their forms among the bedraggled river of refugees fleeing the broken Terajin. Or perhaps they were not stupid enough to attack a cart with a high-strung elf at its head, an armed noble with a face like a storm, and an orc whose bowels loudly predicted their destruction.

Still, among the flow of Umanity, the cart found itself slowing. An irritating development, like as not, as the travelers wished to be on their way and the driver willfully wished himself home. But there was nothing to be done. As the cart wound itself through makeshift camps that had sprung up in the night and were only just beginning to be taken down with the coming of the day, their progress was an unsteady crawl.

At least they still moved forward.

(TO:	Barsc? I'm not entirely sure)

Sunday, December 30, 2007 - 10:16 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(OOC:

Aye, Barsc. I should be able to post this evening. Feel free to take control of the NPC's to keep things moving.)

By Royce Dougland Windeaster (Roy)

Sunday, December 30, 2007 - 12:18 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Sky quite enjoyed her night walk along the Lorimar. As time wore on the fear Roy had induced faded away, until there was nothing left but the possibly of it rising again at some future date. Feeling calmer, she began to take more interest in her surroundings beyond looking for immediate danger.

The hour of midnight came and went and still they made their way onwards. Progress was becoming slower for they had reached a section of the Lorimar where refugees from Terajin had stopped and thrown up makeshift shelters for the night. Some of the men still sat huddled over their dying fires as they contemplated where they might go when the sun rose again and kept an ever watchful eye out for bandits and other troublemakers.

Still the cart moved forward though, winding its way onwards towards the flickering lights which now appeared on the horizon. With the late rising of the winter sun the lights gradually resolved themselves into the buildings of a town standing just off the Lorimar road. A welcome sight for the two weary men who so longed to be home.

Sky would have been willing to continue walking past the town and onwards towards Daelows City. She had been sat down in the boat nearly all day and for someone used to covering long distances fast the walk down the Lorimar had not induced any particular fatigue. She supposed the others might want to stop though, or at least find some other means of transportation to take them onwards.

As the cart left the main stretch of the Lorimar and rattled over the final distance to the town, Sky thought it would perhaps be sensible to join her companions in the cart once again and find out what they intended to do now their ride had reached its destination. Having come to this decision she scurried back to the point from which she had made her hurried departure and, using a wheel axel as a rather dangerous foothold, vaulted back over the side, landing lightly in the straw opposite Royce. It had not even occurred to her that clambering onto the back of the wagon might have been an easier option.

“What next?” she asked, settling back down in the straw and rearranging her bow so it was not in anyone’s way. She was pleased to note that the orange tentacles belonging to the rat creature were still ensconced in the straw opposite Cian. The thing was obviously still asleep and for that she was thankful.

(TO:

Barsc)

Monday, December 31, 2007 - 2:51 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

The young lordling jumped as Sky vaulted back over the side of the wagon, landing across from him in the straw. He had been in conversation with the old man and though he could clearly discern Rotgut’s ragged breath and lumbering tread, he had soon lost track of the nimble High Elf’s whereabouts after she first bounded into the darkness enveloping their twilight journey. The silent, laughing forest had begun to grate on Roy’s nerves, and he offered his companion a embarrassed shrug as he cautiously released the hilt of his sabre, which he had snatched for in his alarm.

“Fred tells me we’re not too far from this Barsc hovel,” he answered, “But many days of arduous travel still lie between us and the capital city.”

“My name is Frank.” their driver corrected him, grumpily.
The old man might have been even angrier, had his rude education lavished him with an understanding of the flash git’s derogative terminology.

Royce waved his hand impatiently. A surf by any other name would… be just as annoying, probably. Names were for people who would take pride in them and those to have come before. If all yew did was roll around in pigswill all day (or aimlessly move vast quantities of hay around the countryside), then really, what was the point? Would anyone really care who yew were?

“Anyway…” he continued, casting a dark glance at the back of the old man’s head, as though daring the gruff rustic to interrupt again with additional trivia about his dull, pointless existence, “Phil here says we can bed down in his cart for a few coppers - and be off on our merry way at first light, refreshed and reinvigorated for the road. It’s not much of an offer, but it has to be better than curling up under a bush - and waking up to find a squirrel using yer ear as a toilet.”

The old man rolled his eyes towards the moon and held his tongue. If the arrogant young nobble wouldn't remember his name, he wouldn't remember to warn him about the drop-snakes that nested amongst the beams of his old barn. He smiled toothlessly to himself - and urged his wheezing draymule on towards the village.

(OOC:

To Barsc)

Wednesday, January 9, 2008 - 11:12 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Walking steps once walked before. Steps still dancing among still-pitched tents. Ears still full of voices both hushed and crying, and the creaking of wheels on this dirt stretch of road. Night had given birth to the day, though it made little difference to the blind. Wandering once more, Cian only knew that the sun warmed his back with steady rays. The refugees that littered the highway sounded more awake, and alive as any fleeing camp could be.

Bright sun set the blind man's hair aflame. A sprite, a spirit broken and forced to wander the earth, poverty and blindness bound to the burning embers of his brightness. Out of place and yet intimately at home, though his steps never stopped. Indeed, the overimaginative might say that they barely seemed to touch the ground.

Winding his way along the Lorimar, Cian let his mind wander freely as his steps echoed satisfied solitude among the sparse forest of Umanity. He would need to spend a night among the ones nearer to his destination, he supposed, for he was a patient walker. His pace did not match the rolling of the farmer's cart, eager and able to quickly return home.

It was more dangerous for a man alone, even for one who looked like he had nothing worth stealing. And yet his smile slowly returned. Calmer than before, rather than amused. It was nothing with which he was unfamiliar. Come what may, he had little fear that he would not reach his destination. And if he did not, would it matter? A difficult decision, perhaps, and one better suited to idle minds.

Well, his was one such, for his feet better knew the way. So thoughts danced among the perpetual dark - bright threads of a mind eventually at peace.

He would take more care come nightfall.

Thursday, January 10, 2008 - 2:12 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

It was blissful peace. A temporary breath of sanity. A breeze of uttermost clarity. It was a lonely stretch of road. The dirt was free of the impression of desperate Uman feet, the clutter of fabric tents, and the wounding of wooden pegs that reminded the earth of the trees that had once sprung here and taken root. In this silence, as silence as life ever seemed to be, Cian began to have a sense of the vast. The unimaginable largness of the worlde saw his tininess, and laughed. The blind man laughed with it. Leaned on his staff for a moment to ground him, to keep him from flying off into the greater nothingness that lay beyond this darkened sky and the nonexistence between the stars whose lullaby dreamt the worlde into being.

It was only when his head returned from the clouds that he realized that his feet ached and his head hurt. The former from the rocks of the road and from being trod upon by uncareful feet. And the latter due to his own stupidity of not drinking enough water. For all that air consituted such a large portion of his living worlde, he was still Uman. A little disappointment, perhaps, that was easily gotten-over.

But he should not stop here. Here, where people could not afford and find safety in each other. Here, where the forest lingered on his one side with the empty fields that sighed softly on the other. Here, where there was no ground to defend. Where the farmer had hastened his pace at the prospect of sleeping here for a night.

Steps paused and cluttered thoughts sung out a full mind. He did not hear them coming until a hand nearly reached to grab at his bright-ragged cloak. Until he - they? it? she? - was in the range of his walking stick.

Dropped, and gone with a moment from those unknown and grasping hands. Even before the sound of surprise rose from that worthy's lungs, Cian felt a body fall on top of him. Two then. Cian grunted as he rolled the invader under him and flipped forward to send fluttering fabric flying. Men, if weight and breath could not tell him lies at this time of night. Hungry. Steps edged with quiet desperation. And one of them faster than he had anticipated as a head rammed into his stomach, sending him falling off the road and into the field. The unfresh mud of the field.

The blind man sputtered, rose from the glue of the not-quite-morass quickly enough to avoid being caught. Just.

His feet were tired. His head hurt. And now the mud began to dry on clothes as water seeped through to the vulnerability of the skin underneath. He was not at his best.

Still. Solid wood found purchase in bony ribs, and he was rewarded with a grunt of lost air. Hands shifted on his unlikely weapon, and sent the denser head of the staff to smacking into the man's empty head. Another shift, a whirl of wood and wind, knocked him into the mud and his friend back from whence he came.

He had departed the places where refugees slept because he had departed the direct sweep of the Lorimar. Once the tents had stopped, he knew that he was nearer to Zabarzh than he had previously throught.

One of them breathed quietly, knocked out in the mud. Possibly drowning in it, depending on the way that he had fallen in, unless his friend was helping him.

A breath of air that sung through his lungs and gave him the energy that he needed. Cian ran.

Fleetness of foot would soon find him at the steps of the steel-and-saline-scented city. Muddier, perhaps, and a bit worse for the wear. But it would find him.

(TO:	The Bridge)

By Anonymous

Friday, January 25, 2008 - 5:56 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

The Horses pounded hard along the well maintained Lorimar Highway. Strausser didn’t need to look back to know his men were tired, they had been riding non-top since Barsc, chased for most of it by a mounted contingent of the peoples guard. They had finally shock them off 2 hours back, the heavily armed soldiers weighed down ironically by their own armour.

Dawn was fast approaching and they need to move faster then the tired mounts could carry them. Fortunately Strausser had planned for this exact contingent and in the semi-light of the coming dawn here stirred his ragged group off the road to along abandoned house some 2 miles to the north it.

At the long abandoned farmstead 3 men and re-mounts were ready and waiting for them, they had been here several days waiting for their arrival. His men tired and hungry smelled bacon in the cold early morning air but before any could even so much as ask for some Strausser motioned to the other horses. The was no time to waste, if they were hungry they could eat in the saddle. When Vallen said he wanted someone now, he actually meant he wanted them yesterday and he would see idling of any sort as sign of a flawed individual, maybe even someone who needed scrubbing out. Strausser wasn’t going to let hungry bellies and tired limbs let that happen. Ignoring his own tightening joints and the mutters of complaint from his men he ordered them to remount. There would be now rest till they were back in Daelows and the box and its passengers were safely in his Boss' Hands
Indicating back towards the road Strausser barely nodding at the 3 men who would escort there horses back started off, the others riding in tow.

(TO:	The Lorimar Road 8: Enchanter’s Highway)

By The Wandering Healer (Praetor)

Friday, January 25, 2008 - 7:21 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

Barsc – as a captive inside the box belonging to Strausser)

The journey was uncomfortable for those inside the box and by the time the movement ceased Skylar felt that every bone in her body must surely be shattered into hundreds of pieces. She wondered how long they had been riding for, but it was impossible to determine the passage of time in the perpetual darkness of the box.

She had not moved from her curled position in the corner, but now they were still she raised her head and looked over at the others. They could not see her with their Uman eyes she realised, in fact, she could barely see them herself since their was no real light to help her nightvision distinguish anything other than slight changes in the shadows where her companions sat.

If they were going to be stopped for a while Skylar thought she might stand up and stretch her aching limbs and ease the tension in her muscles before they set off again. It was as she put this thought into practise though that the box was suddenly and alarmingly swung through the air, sending Skylar tumbling across the floor like a rag doll. It was only when the movement stopped that she was able to determine exactly which way up she was facing and regain her bearings.

Groaning, she pulled herself onto all fours and crawled back to the nearest corner. She did not bother to look to see how the others were. She could still hear two sets of fairly regular breathing; therefore they must be alive and at least not seriously injured.

She curled up again as the box jolted and the rhythmic canter of the horses resumed.

There would obviously be no relief until they reached Daelows.

(TO:	The Lorimar Road 8: Enchanter’s Highway)

By Loke (Loke)

Friday, February 22, 2008 - 3:14 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

Zabarzh)

Loke took his time. He didn't have any deadlines, nor anyone chasing him. He kept his eyes in front and into the trees. Traces of foliage wisped across and along the street now and then. Had it not been for the people and carriages traveling by it would have been a blissful -- and likely more dangerous -- respite from social contact. Of course, few of the travelers the White Orcan met spared him more than a scornful eye. Things were back to normal, and for once he found it a pleasant change.

By Loke (Loke)

Sunday, March 16, 2008 - 5:06 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

After a peaceful day walking along the way Loke sat down by a tree and prepared for the night. He was quite ready for it, despite the slow pace he had kept up. He ripped a bite from his satchel of meat and nestled into the trunk behind him after quickly devouring the heavily salted morsel.

Loke had never been known as a street smart Orc -- if anything quite the opposite -- and perched as he was on the side of the road in the dimming lights attested to this unfortunate flaw. Even more unfortunate was the arrival of a pair of shabbily clad Uman adolescents some hours into the dark.

"Oi lookee, Mork" the scrawnier of the two whispered as he nudged his friend and peered at Loke across the wide road.

"Yea. Quie' like now," replied Mork in a deep voice as he walked cautiously toward the Orc.

The road was sparsely populated this late, also unfortunate for Loke. The pair approached unnoticed and without waking the quietly snoring pale contour. A dark bird, the sole spectator, took off from a nearby tree and retreated cawing mournfully.

"Aa..!" Derk jumped as he stifled his outburst. Mork grunted an inaudible threat after checking that the Orc was still slumbering.

They came up on Orc and after giving it a quick look-over -- accompanied by a grimace of distaste -- Mork proceeded with burglarizing its possessions. Mork checked the wrapped meat then handed it to Derk who smiled delightedly. They were about to commandeer the staff lying close by when Mork spotted the pouch tied at Loke's waist. It was at least half-full of something, maybe it was gold.

Mork stepped around the Orc and began carefully untying the pouch. It was a tight knot and Loke eventually stirred from the effort his antagonist was exerting.

The distant rumbling of a carriage could be heard.

Mork grabbed the staff and bonked its owners head with it, knocking Loke out with no consequence other than a dull echo amidst the trees. Mork pulled at the pouch until the knot surrendered. Within a few short blinks of an eye the bandits were dashing off down the road towards the bridge.

As the rising sun streamed through the trees and along the dry highway, illuminating up a drowsy, blinking and groaning Orc. After some minutes of recuperation he stood up and noticed the missing pouch as he picked up his staff and tried standing up.

He wiped away a thin trail of blood dripping from a gash crowning the bruise on his head. He thought ironically how fortunate it was that he had taken a bite of the meat before he slept, then he stumbled as his head swam.

He doubted he would be able to walk to Daelows proper with his nonexistent resources. His pouch had contained his only items of value -- a handful of uncut amethysts -- and he had no food.

He shook his head and stood up unsteadily. With a sigh he set off back to the bridge and Zabarzh, hoping to catch his friends before they left.

By Loke (Loke)

Saturday, April 5, 2008 - 3:30 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

The stony town came into view and Loke's feet soon touched the bridge.

(TO:	The Bridge)

By Rigel (Rigel)

Sunday, December 14, 2008 - 11:18 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Rigel continued down the road toward Terajin. Camping a full three nights along this stretch he took his time before moving further down toward the bridge

Wednesday, March 25, 2009 - 4:12 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Road to Cabermyr)

Night was falling by the time the wanderer set foot on the broad and well-traveled Bridgewest. He stood out even in the impending darkness, his white cloak floating around him as he strolled on.

By The Wandering Healer (Praetor)

Friday, March 27, 2009 - 2:10 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Days passed without incident. Day after day, the Healer's white cloak fluttered down the Lorimar, heading westward.

(TO:	The Bridge)

By Anonymous

Thursday, October 14, 2010 - 12:58 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Bridge)

A stately ebony carriage, pulled by four frenzied steeds, raced along the Lorimar as the sun declined in the open sky; it was likely the passengers of the recklessly fast vehicle would have to stop for the night at some point on the Bridgewest, but at the clip they were traveling, it was possible to make it to the Enchanter's Highway before then.

By Little Half-Demon (Nashyaala)

Thursday, October 14, 2010 - 4:07 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Bridge)

Irihi cared little for the pace of the carriage or when they would gain their destination. It had been countless years since she ate, drank, or slept out of necessity, though she was often reminded of these frailties of the mortals when she traveled in their company.

Presently her's was a rather single-minded focus brought on by the race to see whether she or the hated Catling would be the first to finally quit this worlde. The speed of this contest in particular was regulated by magick and not by chronology.

Despite bantering with the young psion and perhaps flirting a bit with the Araneaeid, Irihi was not terribly interested in her erstwhile companions, and this disinterest manifested in her silence when she was not directly addressed, a silence which was quite pointed when it came to Blank. If he thought she had forgotten or forgiven the insults with which he had chosen to introduce himself, then he did not know the Elfwitch very well at all.

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 12:17 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(FROM:

The Bridge)

"My Teacher said he had nothing more to teach me," replied the girl nonchalantly, her gaze still intent on the passing landscape. She flexed her wings absently, her legs swinging like the tail of a kitten on the hunt. "Our employer is the only one who can teach me now. But he wanted something in return." She shrugged. "It seems easy enough. I look forward to meeting this 'Other' he speaks of. If I can kill him, it will show Master I'm worthy of his tutelage." The demon-child smiled to herself and tilted her head, still staring dreamily out the window.

By Kallyx the Retrograde (Kallyx)

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 1:35 am GMT | Edit | Link |

As the day wore on, Kallyx stayed relatively quiet, exchanging furtive glances with the spookwitch seated across from her. But for the most part, she played bored - a nap, with her spike-tipped limbs curled around her like a cage, some mild fidgeting that looked like finger exercises.

Eventually, she prodded the shapeshifter beside her. "Yew're awfully quiet, Blank. Thinking of new things to do to the little tart?" The spellweaver chuckled teasingly. "I swear, yew've been taking a little too much pleasure in tailing her all these months."

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 2:28 am GMT | Edit | Link |

"Pleasure?" Blank's response to his associate was the arch of a brow and a contemptuous sneer - perhaps a bit overcompensative, given the lightness of the jab. "As if there's pleasure to be had anywhere on this fetid ball of rock. I'm a professional, Retrograde."

He allowed a smile to twist his lips at the thought of it. "I do have an idea I've been meaning to play around with that involves fishhooks." The shapeshifter rubbed his chin in thought as he returned his gaze to the window.

Blank was more than content to see that Irihi's ire was still up, even if it was directed at him. While some would feel uncomfortable at the Elfwitch's coldness, the shapeshifter seemed to feed off of it, or at least ignore it. Still, the short discussion with the Araneaeid seemed to spark some kind of memory.

"Another stipulation, Miss Spokelse. Yew are, of course, welcome to your turn." Blank grinned, an oily, malicious expression. "But only after I am done with her."

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 5:00 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Irihi wondered they were supposed to leave large enough chunks of the Catling to recognize that it was his own daughter who would finish him off. Or perhaps the child had powers unrevealed. The demonic side of her heritage was clear to the necromancer. In any case, it was a devious and horrible plan to involve Trask's offspring. Irihi quite approved.

The sorceress listened the the exchange between Kallyx and Blank with half an ear until Blank addressed her. "So long as he is still alive to feel what happens to her." She indicated the little half-demon with a slight tilt of her chin. "And after, is she to finish him this time, or have you other tortures in mind besides ripping apart his little tramp?"

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 5:15 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Kallyx and Blank opened their mouths simultaneously to respond, saw each other, and chuckled. "Please," the spellweaver said to the shapeshifter.

"Now is not quite the time," the changeling replied, his dark eyes glittering malevolently from beneath his hood. "This time, we're planning on taking her... working her for a bit, then letting him find what's left." Blank settled back in his seat, steepling his fingers. "Let him bask in the guilt for a time before we finish the job. After all, the game would be no fun if it were over too soon."

Blank arched a brow at Irihi. "After all, we're in no hurry, are we, Miss Spokelse?"

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 6:02 am GMT | Edit | Link |

Irihi shrugged. "I suppose that could be fun." Oddly enough, she could not find it within herself to hate the other woman, or even Kymera, for that matter, though the dryad had betrayed her trust nearly as badly as had Trask. Lumen's torture, degradation, and whatever else Blank had planned did not thrill Irihi as it did the shapeshifter. "And how do you expect to keep him from interfering with your plans for her?"

By Little Half-Demon (Nashyaala)

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 1:27 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Blank's only response to the Elfwitch's inquiry was to gesture to the white-haired girl sitting beside her. Kallyx raised a hand to her mouth as she started to chuckle.

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 1:35 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Nashyaala had not appeared to be listening to the conversation, but when she unexpectedly spoke it became evident that she had, in fact, been following--with no small amount of interest.

It was after Irihi's lackluster, "I suppose that could be fun," that she nodded and remarked, "I'm looking forward to it, as a matter of intellectual curiosity. I've never tried to take apart a mind without using psionics." She smiled her muted smile and gazed off dreamily. "I wonder how long it will take."

At Blank's gesture, she shrugged amiably. "I can stop the Other from sensing her location easy enough--while still letting him feel everything she feels."

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 1:52 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Reluctantly, Irihi at last gave voice to her query. "So then what of my role? I do hope you have not summoned me simply to clean up the mess yew make of his woman." Her eyes narrowed. "For, then I think I wouldst be most displeased."

By Kallyx the Retrograde (Kallyx)

Friday, October 15, 2010 - 3:07 pm GMT | Edit | Link |

Blank laughed, a sinister, unpleasant sound. "By the Darkness, no, Miss Spokelese. Yew are not well known for yer skills with a mop.

"No, my dear, yer participation in this is what yew desire it to be." The shapeshifter leaned forward, his dark, glittering eyes examining the sorceress' face a little too closely. "Yew see, we don't need yew. Kallyx here has already proven quite adept at subduing our furry friend."

Blank drew a deep breath as his eyes narrowed, as if reviewing his scheme. "If anything, our plan does hinge on finding a way to separate the two of them. And while I haven't come up with anything for that quite yet, I'm sure something will come up." The shifter arched a brow at the Elfwitch. "So tell me, then. What do yew want to do?"

Saturday, October 16, 2010 - 12:01 am GMT | Edit | Link |

As the strange collection of villains collected in the carriage spoke, Kallyx was idly tracing patterns in the air. Should Irihi be paying attention, she would feel the ley lines shift a bit as the chronomancer ensorcelled their horses.

It was a simple enough spell, and infinitely useful; she simply turned back time on the animals twelve hours, and they were as fresh as they had been when they left Zabarzh. The carriage rattled on, hastening to Greater Daelows.

(TO:	Lorimar 8: Enchanter's Highway)

By Little Half-Demon (Nashyaala)

Saturday, October 16, 2010 - 12:02 am GMT | Edit | Link |

(OOC:

Following)