|
Post by Angmor on Mar 26, 2009 18:41:27 GMT -5
Kyemen walked purposefully down the muddy track, head bent against the wind and rain. Wrapping his gray cloak tighter about him with a slight shiver, he reflected that the outskirts of Feinster hadn't changed much. Just as the last time he had visisted it, more than three years ago, the collection of squat hovels constructed of cast off lumber and cloth practically stank of desperation. Everywhere he turned his gaze, there were people huddling against the rain under their scant shelter, or scurrying as fast as possible on some errand or another, many of them arguing loudly with each other. A few of them eyed him with calculating looks, contemplating the odds of him having anything worth stealing. None had yet decided it was worth it, but he still kept a throwing dagger in his hand, hidden flat against his forearm, just in case. No, some things don't change. And some things do, lucky for you. [/color] Sierthra said, speaking for the first time since entering the slums. Kyemen smiled slightly. Yes, lucky for me. After all that I've been through, I get you.[/color] He said in mock sarcasm. She sniffed indignantly. With as much effort as moving his eyes, he reached back along the connection into her mind, finding her nestling down in the long grass behind a large grove of trees, safely away from any unfriendly eyes. She also made sure to make visible her keen displeasure at the situation. You could have picked a better day. It will take hours to dry my wings after this rain lets up.[/color] Kyemen blew a drop of rainwater from his nose, wishing that his hood was just slightly larger. With the direction he was going, small gusts of wind kept blowing the rain straight into his face. I'm not exactly happy about it either. But it will help me get past the gate guards without them asking questions. Besides, the sooner I do this, the sooner we can leave.[/color] With that simple logic, them lapsed into silence, and the oppression of his surroundings closed around him again as she faded into the back of his mind; watchful, but not interacting. To distract himself from the gloomy slog that still lay between him and the gate, Kyemen went over the details of his assignment, reminding himself why he was here. After a year of nothing but small border skirmishes and dark games of spying and machinations, as well as the birth of two new dragons, Lady Nasuada believed that the time for going back on the offensive had at last come. After the battle for the Burning Plains, the king had never recovered that piece of land, which meant that the large town of Feinster was wide open. Or at least, comparitively so. There was still the small matter of the city's formidable walls and strong garrison. And so, while the Varden gathered its strength and resources for the offensive, Nasuada turned loose every spy that was available to speak with their contacts, rattling trees to see what fell out. Kyemen's particular mission had began rather strangely. When the idea had first been proposed, he had remarked in passing that he once had something of a close acquaintance in Feinster. A former sergeant of the imperial army, he was discharged when his left leg was severed just above the knee in a pirate raid. Despite his disability, he had gained a modest income by touring with a group of troupadours as a knife thrower. When Kyemen met him, he had opened a small smithy in Feinster, and had honed his skill until he was the absolute voice of death with a throwing knife. Kyemen smiled at the memory. While his elven teachers might have had more style and grace, it had been Kealti who had really taught him to sling a blade. All of this he had related to Nasuda, who was strangely quite interested. To his complete and utter surprise, she then ordered him to go and meet with Kealti, pointing out that if anyone knew of a crucial weakness in the city's defense, he would. And so, a short ride on Sierthra later, he was here. At that moment, the avenue in front of him widened, leading up a short rise to the imposing shape of the great gate. At the site of it, Kyemen felt the stirrings of an old excitement deep in the pit of his stomach. While this was certainly not his first time on imperial soil since he had become a Rider, it was his first time entering an imperial city. Kyemen knew the feeling well. It was the sense of fear that went with the knowledge that if someone here were to jump him with a knife, he would be totally on his own, mixed exileratingly with the knowledge that he had the skill to deal with such a situation. The feeling spiked with the sight of the pair of soldiers standing beneath the imposing arch, red cloaks wrapped tightly around them to ward off the cold. If he had forgotten what he had learned over a hundred years of wandering through a hostile land, his fate would be sealed here. Before approaching, Kyemen adjusted his posture slightly, adopting a subtle swagger to his stide. At last he passed out of the rain and into the tunnel that was a testemant to the wall's great thickness, nodding at the guards deferently but confidently. Between the strenght of his stride and the prominent placement of the sword on his back, he projected the aura of a man who was perfectly peaceful, so long as nothing got in his way. It seemed to work, because the guards simply nodded back and said nothing, letting him pass without a word. After what seemed like minutes, he stepped out from under the far arch and into the street, the rain resuming its assault on the fibers of his cloak. He blew out a breath in relief. So far so good... And it will continue that way, so long as you don't do anything stupid.[/color] Sierthra said, a note of worry clear on her thoughts. You're just here to talk to this Kealti. Straight there, straight back.[/color] Kyemen smiled, his confidence restored. Oh come now, Sierthra. It's me we're talkiing about here.[/color] He almost laughed out loud as her level of anxiety jumped a notch. Without waiting for a reply, he found his bearings and started toward Kealti's smithy, snaking his mental perception out here and there to make sure that no undue attention was being directed his way. Yes, he thought to himself. While Sierthra's worry wasn't unfounded, he knew that he was ready to deal with whatever fate was about to throw at him.[/size][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress on Apr 10, 2009 12:53:17 GMT -5
Elves were a sneaky bunch. I should know. After all, I happened to be one.
Eisolae Mylaestalai was awfully quick on her feet for someone who had specialized in plant magic and transaction records her whole life. Granted, it was a rather short life for an elf, only being in her teens, which was why I was going to give her an equally short death. I didn’t treat betrayal kindly. I had no idea why she’d decided to go off and join the Empire. I couldn’t say I was sad to see her go- she’d always been a snotty little witch, and elves made me anxious anyway. However, that didn’t mean I was going to sit around while she went to Galbatorix with full knowledge of the Bloodletters’ clients and transactions buzzing around in her head. She’d led me on a merry hunt, though. I had expected her to go straight to Urû’baen, but she’d diverted her course and gone south instead, throwing me off her trail for a good three days. I’d been tracking her for nearly two weeks now, and it didn’t help that I was alone. Having real power only in Dras-Leona as well as a little in Urû’baen, I’d gone incognito and had followed her with hardly anyone back in Dras-Leona knowing it. I hadn’t even brought bodyguards.
It was a bloody nuisance, though. I had to have a hood drawn up at all times and duck into stinking alleys whenever I ran into a patrol. I wasn’t used to guards who weren’t paid to keep out of Bloodletter business. Needless to say, I’d been crawling through the dirt the whole time. And now on top of everything, it was raining.
I licked my lips, which were dry despite the rain, and drew the thin material of my cloak tighter around myself. It was dark and gloomy, and my clothes weren’t nearly thick enough to keep the cold away. I glared out at the cold, unfamiliar street from the tiny canvas I was sheltering underneath. I was in an unpleasant part of town, near the Muddy Rudder, the inn where I was staying. The peasants here stuck and moved together like frightened sheep while walking down the street. Few glances were thrown my way, probably because I was so hidden in the gloom. After a while, I got tired of standing there and began to walk back to the Muddy Rudder. After all, I had no chance of finding Eisolae in this rain.
I stalked down the alley until I reached a flood of welcome light and a sign labelled ‘The Muddy Rudder’ with a picture of a filthy ship- or maybe it was just the sign that was filthy. I pushed my way through the door and ducked around the common room to the stairs leading to the bedrooms, for once not in the mood for rosy-rumped maidens and rivers of ale. I crawled up the stairs, took my key from my pocket, and opened the door to my room. Inside, I was faced with a small chest and a bed, with only a small window to illuminate the dark. I leaned over the bed and plucked at the mattress. It was oddly damp, and smelled of the worst things, some of which I couldn’t even name. Not even my poorest patrons got put up with beds like this. It was safer to sleep on the floor. Remembering that it had been a long while since I’d gotten a decent night’s sleep, I slid to the ground and rested against the wall. My eyelids felt heavy, and with a small sigh I decided to close my eyes. After all, there was no way Eisolae could possibly find me, and if she did, I’d certainly hear her coming.
I was proved painfully wrong when an explosive burning in my right ribs jerked me awake. Immediately, my hands grabbed at the thing poking at me. I cut my hands in three places snatching at it- from the size, it was one of those tiny stilettos- and with an effort I tore it out of my side. The figure holding the stiletto squeaked and leaped backwards. I already knew who it was from the impossibly fast movements and the hesitation. Eisolae had never been fond of knives. Realizing she was probably about to cast a spell, I jumped up and threw my entire weight against her, knocking out her breath and battering her against the door.
“Brisingr!” she squealed before I could clamp a hand over her mouth.
I’d never been taught the Ancient Language, so I probably wouldn’t have known what the word meant if Eragon Shadeslayer and his new fiery Rider sword weren’t so popular. It gave me enough warning to drop to the floor when a huge fireball materialized in the air and flew towards me. It missed me and hit the bed, setting it on fire. Not planning on giving her another chance, I wrapped my arms around both of hers and squeezed a hand over her mouth. I tried to fumble for a dagger with the other one, but she bit me, making me roar and let her go. She ducked under my arms and made for the window, opening her mouth for another spell.
“Jierda-” she broke off with another squeal when a well-aimed throw of my knife got her in the stomach. Gasping, she stumbled past the burning bed, which was now rapidly eating its way towards the floor, and forced herself through the window feet first. It was too small for me to fit through, though, so with a snarled curse I flung the door open and charged past two bewildered-looking maids who’d just been about to knock. I leaped down the stairs six at a time, followed by their screams of horror. They’d probably seen the state of the bed. Luckily, I’d be long gone before they could come after me with a bill. I managed to get my hood back up, which had fallen off when I’d gone to sleep, before I reached the common room. Ducking past the patrons, I slapped the front doors open and tore around the building. All the while, I struggled to make my run look as human as possible.
When I reached the ground directly below my window I stopped, inhaling deeply. The smell of elven blood clogged my nostrils, but it seemed to be going off in two different directions. I decided to take the one that led towards the city gate, letting myself speed up when I was out of human sight. I hissed at the pain blazing in my side. Elves could certainly heal faster than humans could, but they had plenty more nerves to complain about the pain. Luckily, Eisolae was more injured than I was, so she’d be slower.
And I was right. Only two minutes after I’d started the chase, the scent of blood led me to a figure cloaked in grey, hurrying through a small, empty square. I hadn’t seen what Eisolae was wearing, but the figure smelled like elven blood, so without further ado, I removed a knife from my belt and hurled it at her. It hit her at the base of the skull, the point driving down through her throat. I waited patiently as she made a tiny gurgle, and then fell forwards onto her face. I glanced around, making sure nobody had seen, and then trotted over to her. I bent over her, which my ribs complained about, and tore the knife out of her neck, making her body shudder. Something was wrong, though. Eisolae didn’t seem as slim, or as tall, and the blood that was now pooling around her smelled different. I nudged the body with my boot, flipping it over to get a proper look at her face.
My voice was oddly loud in the rain. “Well, damņ.”
I had gone and stabbed some human. She was middle-aged, and from the clothes, definitely lower-class. She smelled like an elf, though- she even had that lavender perfume that Eisolae usually wore. Somehow, Eisolae must have cast an illusion to throw me off her trail. Again. With a disgusted grunt, I turned away from the body. Few people would care about a dead peasant, but I guessed I had to at least hide her from open view. The rain would deal with the blood soon enough. I glanced around and saw a well surrounded by bushes. I grabbed the woman by the front of her cloak and dragged her to the bushes, tucking her in behind them.
Now I was in a bit of a rut. If Eisolae was smart, which she was, she would have left Feinster by now. Besides that, I was wounded. I glanced up at the sky. It was impossible to tell how long I’d been sleeping from the rain, which was just as heavy as ever. With a sigh, I left the square to see if I could get my bearings on a somewhat larger street. I headed east, towards where the gate was supposed to be, and looked around. Just a few hundred feet away, the gate loomed in a very similar way that the cathedral did in Dras-Leona. The streets were crammed with people flowing in and out of the gate. I’d go through there now, and see if I could find Eisolae’s trail again. I glanced at the people again, preparing to merge into the crowd currently leaving the city. However, one figure slightly stuck out, who happened to be going into the city.
They walked differently. That was the first thing I noticed. Like the others, the figure was slouched from the rain, with a heavy stride, but somehow still possessed a kind of lightness to their steps, which could have just been from joy, but I doubted anyone could be happy during this kind of weather. They also had a large sword strapped to their back, and underneath the loose grey clothing, I could see the figure was much leaner than most people could boast. It was disguised well, and I probably wouldn’t have figured it out if I was a human, but I could see it was an elf. I didn’t know how I knew. Probably some much-suppressed elven side of me. Eisolae must have picked up on some tricks of mine. I peeled myself from the wall I’d been leaning against and slipped after her, content to wait until she went somewhere with less people around, or at least with a decent escape route for me.
I followed her for several minutes, during which she left the main street and headed through the smaller residential streets. I stopped to get my bearings. Besides Eisolae and me, there were only a couple of bag ladies sitting on the side of the road who smelled like they’d been dead for three days. They wouldn’t make any commotion. I loosened my still-bloodied dagger from under my cloak, judged the distance between me and Eisolae, and let the dagger fly right at the spot between her shoulder blades. Words;; 1856 Muse;; VERY BAD AND RUSHED Thoughts;; I had to post this really quickly so it sucks but hey, I finally posted! YAY![/size]
|
|
|
Post by renea on Apr 11, 2009 14:04:56 GMT -5
OOC::: Angmor asked me to wait before I posted, so here I am now!
The rain had started just before sunrise and had pelted the land greatly, soaking it and making it unstable in most places. Animals were no where to be found unless they were fenced into a small pasture or being ridding down the muddy road that was more like a shallow stream now. The trees seemed to be gloomy today, doing nothing it seemed but the limbs were lower from the heaviness of the rain. Birds took shelter in the trees and many other small animals took shelter in small burrows, that by shier luck were not being flooded. The clouds were dark, but as the day went on the lightened some, as if they would stop this rain storm, but one's hope would not be so answered, for it seemed that it rained harder and also seemed to just get worse, as the wind took it toil on traveling soldiers and some peasants who were having to the travel from the farms far from the city or Feinster.
The town of Feinster had been greatly over run by many soldiers, since it was after all one of the closest cities to the Surda Boarder. The King had sent these men, the young men, very young men to defend this large, but yet small city for these men to look over. As the soldiers did their so called 'jobs' many women did their jobs, but these soldiers show more disrespect then any other such cities held. They grabbed the women touching the unmarried in worse ways then even the husbands would touch their own wives, many men teamed up on these women, but yet the women had their own plans. Son protected their mothers as mother protected their son and the guards were yet still out numbered. This city was being protected by boys, not men, but boys who had not yet even matured to have their voices change enough.
Tasalae had seen this before in other cities, but not nearly this much. Her emerald eyes, though hidden under her cloak, watched as the soldiers did this to the women. Her body was clothed in tight clothing, that was as black as a starless night. Her black hair hidden from all the people as she moved through the gates of the city, her black boots thumped down the dry stone as she went under the gate. She stopped to dry her cloak for a moment, or well, act like she had been drying her cloak, since it was mostly dry from a ward she had set on the cloak before it began to rain. She did not let her eyes wonder, but she had seen enough the she did not have to let her eyes wonder far before she saw a young man of the age of 18 coming towards her with a proud stride. Her hidden eyes narrowed, in such a way that would scare a large cave bear.
"Who are you maiden?" His deep voice was a act, anyone could tell such a act as anything in the world. She let her hand move against her cloak, pushing it aside to show the very sharp dagger that hung from her hip, along with the sword that also hung with ease from the same hip. She adjusted her cloak again, showing the other dagger to him with ease. She watched as his eyes widened and with quick lips she made sure he could not speak or tell the guards. She let her hand touch his cheek, making his brown eyes look at her as she began to speak in a voice that was like a blowing wind, beautiful and smooth in all aspects.
"I promise you young one, it would be wise to keep your mouth shut, it would not be a good thing to do," He nodded before she let her hand slip away and she moved back into the rain, her face still hidden as she moved with a normal stride towards the city and towards the center. She did not understand the ways of the humans, but she knew they were careless in many ways, for as she moved, she smelt blood. It was strong, which meant it was only closer to her. She turned towards the bushes and looked at the dead middle aged women and narrowed her eyes. No one could kill like this unless they were completely skilled in the blade and from what it looked like someone like a elf only has this deadly of a target and can hit it. She moved away from the dead body and headed through the streets at a pace a little fast now. There is a elf and this elf is killing! What such elf would do such a thing, for she knew that no elf world kill a middle aged peasant women unless they were truely evil, however, if the attack as because of misjudgment she could understand more.
She rounded the corner just as she saw the elf throw the knife. Her hidden eyes widened, for she knew she was two late as she watched the knife go through the air. Tasalae knew that if this turned out badly she would have to help her fellow elf so she could get the reason as to why for such a attack.
OOC::: I hope you don't mind me redirecting his dagger, but I don't think we need a dragon rider dead. However, tell me if you want to have it changed.
|
|
|
Post by Angmor on Apr 14, 2009 21:11:19 GMT -5
Ah, he had forgotten just how much he had missed this. While his life a Rider had hardly been boring, there was just something so exhilirating about sneaking in right under the enemy’s nose, the general feeling that any being of any age got from being somewhere they shouldn’t be. Sierthra, he could sense, did not approve. Don’t get used to it, Kyemen. I seriously doubt that Nasuada will ever let it happen again. I’m not sure why she let it happen now. [/color] Although her words were sobering, he couldn’t resist baiting her a little. You worry too much. It’s not like I’m storming the fortress by myself... Although, sneaking in and taking Lady Lorana hostage might be feasible...[/color] Only the joking tone of his thoughts kept her from taking off and plucking him straight off the street and carrying him back to Aberon, he was sure. Don’t worry Sierthra. Fact-finding mission only. I promise.[/Color] As they were talking, he barely noticed the strange sensation in his hand. That would come later. As he drew closer to his destination, one thing grew increasingly clear. The city was most definitely aware of its vulnerability, and they were digging in. Temporary fortifications were being set up, cobblestones pulled up on certain streets, the resulting mud hampering the progress of large groups and facilitating ambushes, certain doors reinforced. The city was definitely ready to make a fight of it. The strange thing was, this fact didn’t seem to slow down the regular business of the citizenry in the slightest. No one seemed particularly concerned with what was about to happen, and only found the preparations to be a slight inconvenience to be moved around. That fact bothered him, and he resolved that he would need to find out why before he left this place. Even as he observed these things, he began to get a strange feeling. He couldn’t tell where from at first, but he soon realized that it came mosly in the form of an odd tingling in his left hand. He tried to ignore it, but it persisted stubbornly, growing in intensity until it felt like a hundred insects were crawling under his skin. Finally, he stopped amid the crowded street he was on and took off the leather half-glove that covered his hand, staring at his palm as if there was something there that would bite him. Immediately upon seeing it, he could tell that the feeling was coming mostly from the silvery mark that was the symbol of his connection with Sierthra. Could this mean then that something was happening to her? Sierthra? Are you all right? As right as I can be in this infernal rain.[/color] Came her immediate, and irritable answer. So, nothing was wrong with her then, so what was this strange feeling... The selective power of hearing is a strange thing. Even amid the pattering of the rain, the babble of human conversation and movement, and even ambience of the nearby sea, Kyemen’s ears where still able to make out the distinctive whistling hum of fast-moving metal. Before his mind even had a chance to register surprise, he let his knees collapse under him, pitching his body forward and downward. Just in time. Something hard bounced off the black crosstrees of his sword with a sharp ping, a sound that immediately sent throwing dagger racing through his subconscious. Less than a full second since the first warning, he tucked his limbs and brought his fall into a foreward roll. In the strangely altered state of time that adrenaline brought to the mind, he realized as he came back up on his feet that no smart fighter who threw his weapon ever did so without having at least one more handy. That probably meant that another attack would be coming his way within the next few seconds. He could not put up a ward, or at least, not without concentrating for more time then he had, or some magic-user would detect it, which was why hehad stripped away all of his wards beforhand. Left with no other options, he did the very next thing his instinct told him to do. He chose a direction, and ran away as fast as he could. Don’t move in a straight line, break his line of sight. Listening to his instinct, he skidded around a corner leading into a larger, more populated street. Unless the attacker was willing to waste knives on bystanders, then he would not he would be more or less safe here. So long as he kept running. Kyemen, what’s happening? Sierthra?[/color] In the blind moment of adrenaline, he had almost completely forgotten about her. Someone’s decided to take a few skill throws at me! Why?[/color] He dodged narrowly between two woman in conversation, drawing angry shouting in the wake of his zig-zag flight. I don’t know. I haven’t even done anything yet![/color] Through their link, he sensed her leap into the sky, rushing towards him with all of her natural speed. No! Fly Sierthra, but don’t let yourself be seen just yet. Stay high. I’ll see if I can lose this one first.[/Color] There came a shiver of anger from her like the first lighting of a storm, but she silently gave her consent. Right. I suppose I should find out just who I’m trying to outrun...[/Color] For the first time, he glanced back over his shoulder, probing with his mind as well as his eyes.[/size][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress on Apr 18, 2009 16:27:58 GMT -5
It was one of my better throws, and I watched, pleased, as the knife spun towards Eisolae. However, before it could embed itself into her spine, she suddenly pitched forward, as if she’d already been hit, and my knife ricocheted off the huge sword on her back. I swore under my breath at how good elves were when it came to battle while loosening another knife in its sheath. But then, if she was going to be easy to catch, I would have sent one of my thugs after her rather than going myself. I slid the knife out of its sheath, but then, the oddest thing happened. Rather than clattering to the ground, like it should have, the first knife suddenly flew backwards as if pulled along by an invisible string. And though decades and decades of fighting experience told me to pay furious attention to Eisolae, who was already getting to her feet, I watched the path of the dagger as it flew past me and into the hands of a cloaked figure standing in the alleyway behind me. Bemused, I gawked at the figure for a long moment before they suddenly tipped their hood back and revealed a face that froze me into ice on the spot.
An elf? Here, in the Empire? I was hardly one to talk, but she had gone and showed herself without even a spell, like I had permanently placed on myself, to hide her features. For a moment, the defiance in her eyes made me think it was Eisolae, but this one was too tall, and the features were sharper. So Eisolae had friends now? But I dropped that thought the moment it came to mind. Eisolae had always been a bit of an oddball in Du Weldenvarden. It had even led to her banishment from the forest when she’d been used as a scapegoat for some murder. She didn’t have any friends. So why was this elf bothering to help her?
Wild screeching from the three old hags on my left made my thoughts break off, and I turned to see that they were pointing and blathering in some primitive language at the female elf. It also made me realize that Eisolae had disappeared. With a furious curse, I tore down the street. The elf could keep my knife. I could always get another one, anyway. Now I had to get Eisolae before she could go and yap to the Empire about every scrap of information on the Bloodletters. If she was smart, she would have gone to the closest busy street, so I tore left around a corner and promptly knocked into a couple of cows, making them moo angrily. I slipped around them and glanced around the street, searching wildly. To my right, I saw the familiar cloaked figure with a huge sword on their back ducking through a group of fishermen. I immediately darted after her, dodging through squealing and shouting people. I even bumped into a guard or two, and almost forgot to drop my head so they wouldn’t see my face. I really hated loyal Imperial soldiers.
Eisolae managed to flee deeper into the crowd, so that I only caught brief glimpses of her to keep me on track. At several points, she turned around to see who her attacker was. Sometimes I managed to dive behind crates or animals to avoid her seeing me, and at other times I was too busy dodging everything and had to trust the heavy rain to keep my face hidden. I was concentrating on not losing her. There was no way I could get a chance at hitting her now, with so many people around.
Suddenly, she disappeared. I screeched to a stop, and glanced around wildly. I saw her disappearing to my right, ducking into a smaller alleyway and probably hoping I would keep searching for her in the busier street. I changed direction and flew after her. Elves could go on nearly forever, and I would have happily chased Eisolae all over the city for a whole week, but the injury she’d dealt me seemed to bite harder as I ran, and every so often I felt streams of blood trickling down my stomach and onto my legs. I didn’t worry about it just yet, though. No elf died from something as petty as losing blood, and the wound wasn’t too deep, anyway.
I readied the knife in my hand and prepared to throw it, but Eisolae kept zigzagging from side to side, making it hard to aim. I ran faster, moving closer to her, and flung the blade just as she rounded another corner. It zoomed past her ear, and I swore again as she disappeared and as the knife clattered to the ground. I hurried after her, but just as I was leaving the alley I nearly tripped over three people crouching in the street in front of me. Eisolae had skidded to a stop as well, and I realized that everyone in the street was bowing. I glanced around. This street appeared to be a small marketplace, from all the abandoned stalls and shops. In the centre of the street was a small procession made up of banner-flying Imperial soldiers dressed in smart uniforms that gleamed in the rain, the red flame of the Empire pressed onto their cuirasses. They were all riding nearly identical bay horses. In their midst, seated on a tall white mare with a parasol to protect her from the rain, was a portly woman who, despite her size, looked rather frail. The tiny tiara that gleamed in her mass of grey curls made me suddenly have the urge to disappear into the shadows. Running into Lady Lorana, the countess of Feinster, had not been on the top of my to-do list.
Suddenly, a massive weight pressed against my back, and I dropped to my knees like the rest of the citizens had. Then I felt something grab my head in a crushing grip and force my face to the ground. Though I seethed at being treated like a commoner, I let it happen. I already knew why I was being pushed down. I managed to turn my head enough to see that Eisolae had had the same thing done to her.
“Yeh don’t gawk at the Lady, boot,” breathed a lovely baritone voice into my ear. “Yeh bow like the rest of ‘em!” I could hear the guard pinning Eisolae saying the same thing.
The guard holding me gave my head a painful shake, and then released me. I didn’t get up, though, knowing that he was still watching me. I raised my head enough to get a look at the procession as they marched past, then looked down at myself and noticed the tiny pool of blood gathering onto the wet ground below my wound. I just hoped the guard wouldn’t notice it when I got up again. At the very least, Eisolae wouldn’t be able to escape before I did. I raised my head again to watch Lady Lorana and her contingent of guards step slowly past the crowd, willing the rain to keep them from paying too much attention to me. Words;; 1206 Muse;; Um... could be better. Roflcopter. Thoughts;; EHHHHHHH it's okay, I guess. Lulz. I'z too happy to be really judgmental of it this time. XD[/size]
|
|
|
Post by renea on Apr 19, 2009 8:56:47 GMT -5
Tasalae watched with marvel and also knowing she would not be able to do a thing. She hid her features, allowing her face to resume blank as she watched what was about to happen. For she had a feeling that a man was about to die and the elf doing the deed was going to be happy. This elf had not seen the face of her target, he would not know if this was her target, she was targeting all with a cloak. Tasalae saw the dagger sore through the air, aimed at the spin and then the parson dropped, everything happened quickly, the dagger fell to the ground. She stretched her hand out a little and looked at it, but also kept the two figures in my view. I stood in the ally, brought my hood down and my mouth uttered the words I would need.
"Knífr! Gath sem oro un lam iet" She watched the silver blade some to her and watched the owner look to her, shock over his face as his target ran. It was not a long look, but long enough for him to see Tasalae. She ran after him quickly, her hood bring brought back over her face as she did so. She moved around the cattle and then ran after the elf. She was quick, watching around her and also watching as he fell. She was not going to let him kill when he was not even sure who it was. She watched as he stopped and then also watched the people went down around her. She bowed before any soldier could grab her and then rose as it went by. The people went away and she was just close enough to the elf that she could speak with him.
"You there, stop and tell me who you search for," Tasalae had authority in her voice, for she was looked up to by a few back in her home. She looked at the elf, her emerald eyes looking into his eyes through her hood. She wanted to know who this elf was and also why he was after a human. "For you are chasing a human, can you not see by the way he walks and moves, even älfa are more graceful," She said elf in the ancient language, but there was no one around to hear her but the elf she had finally caught up to. She watched him careful, still unable to find the one whom he was after, but wanting to see this being. Maybe she could help him and possible the other who seemed trained enough to know what was going on around him.
The streets around them were already filling up with people after the small little parade had gone on, but not many came down this ally, because no one seemed to want to go where two beings were standing in cloaks talking to each other. She looked at each being who looked down the ally and then returned her gaze back at the elf in which she was sharing this moment with. She had to keep people from being killed, that was something she did not want to happen, in fact, she would rather this elf find his target then killing anyone in a cloak.
|
|
|
Post by Angmor on Apr 24, 2009 20:56:29 GMT -5
The crowd of people came as such a surprise as he rounded the corner that he was only just able to skid to a halt among them before he tripped over one of them. Tripped, because they were all kneeling. His adrenaline saturated mind was focused like nothing else could be, and was only concerned with the things that would keep him alive in the face of a knife-throwing assassin, so it took him a full two second double take for him to comprehend what he was looking at. At about the time that he did, he felt a rough hand seize his shoulder, trying to force him down.
Now, he very nearly seized the wrist and threw the attached being into the nearest hard surface, but a quick sweep of his mental perception revealed that there was no malice or anger, simply irritation and contempt in levels that would be normal for someone who just doing their job. In his quick scan, he almost didn't hear the man's words as he allowed himself to be pushed down. "Get down! Show some respect for the lady!" "Yes sir!" He said automatically, dropping to his knees and lowering his head to mimic the posture of the people around him, who incidentally made good cover in that position. "That's better." Growled the soldier, and Kyemen heard the pounding of his heavy boots against the wet paving as he moved on. For the first time, he noticed he was breathing hard. Had it seriously been that long since someone had unexpectedly tried to kill him? His life had indeed changed. No sooner had the thoughts come then he was berating himself for having them. Now was the time for earnest thought on how he was going to survive the next hour, not for nostalgia.
You could have warned me, you know. Would a "Look out for the procession" been too much? [/Color] For the first time, he risked a glance at the procession itself. It was rather odd, to look on the face of the one ruling the city he was now acting against. As so often struck him, he thought that this sturdy, gray-haired woman before him didn't look evil. But that was a thought for another time. I was watching you , not where you were going. Besides, you told me to hold high, remember?[/Color] Lowering his eyes to the paving stones in front of him, Kyemen did his best to use his other senses to flush locate his attacker. He dared cast out with his mind just yet, figuring that a sensible noble would probably go out with at least one spellcaster in the entourage. Can you at least see if you can locate him for me? Odds are pretty good that he got stuck in this as well, and he's smart enough not to try another knife trick with all these soldiers around. Over your left shoulder, six meters.[/Color] Kyemen blinked. That was fast. Are you sure? More or less. Someone ran into the crowd about ten seconds behind you, and was also accosted by a guard.[/Color] Ever so slowly, Kyemen brought his eyes over his shoulder, wishing the rain would stop dribbling down his back so... There. At the exact measurement Sierthra had told him, he caught a glimpse of a dark-cloaked figure and a single bloodied hand, in which he imagined he caught the reflection of something metal. Either way, it had to be him. He wrenched his eyes back hurriedly. Alright, so he knew where his would-be killer was. Now, doing something about it was quite another thing. Attacking him with magic as out of the equation for the moment, there was few ways of fighting that were less subtle, or at least with the amount of time for preparation he had. Knives were out for the same reason... There was only one option. He would have to attack the assassin’s mind. Ever since he had forced his way into the mind of an innocent half-elf, Kyemen had been wary of even gently touching another’s mind. But when the choice was between that or capture and death, he found that his reticence was far less severe than usual. Shutting his eyes, he cast out his mental perception toward his pursuer. As unobtrusively as he could, he snaked his mind out, passing over each mind in turn between him and the assassin. As often happened, Kyemen thought that human minds were so… bland, so painstakingly straightforward in all that they did. And yet, there was always something about them that made them amazing to him. But this was not the time to dwell on that. After what seemed hours of careful probing, he at last arrived on the mind who’s position conicided with the assassin. To his surprise, he found that the mind possessed all the labyrinthine nature of an elven intellect. Even more strange, it was completely open and unguarded, which was a strange stance for an assassin to take. But that could only change as the elf discovered his probing, so without hesitation he went about breaking into his mind, even while masking any sense of himself to the defender. Instantly, he felt resistance. The assassin had discovered him, and taken aversion to his presence. The counterattack was however much weaker than Kyemen had expected it to be, and was able to break through the defenses like Sierthra’s fire through a screen of leaves. In what seemed a very short time, he had reinforced his presence and crushed any attempt at forcing him out. Kyemen could immediately feel the darkness that pervaded the elf’s thoughts, the all-encompassing pettiness. The greed that drove this elf was truly unlike anything he had ever felt before; he could almost feel it in the pit of his stomach like a burning hunger. The feeling sickened him, almost making him withdraw to his own mind, but he forced down his revulsion with purpose. He had an objective here, and he couldn’t go back on it just because he didn’t like what he saw. Trying to shake off the feeling that what he was doing was wrong, he accessed the elf’s recent memories. He put up a furious fight at that, angrily trying to hold on to his recollections, but it was no use. There was simply nothing he could do against one of Kyemen’s power. All the same, it was a slow fight. The elf had been in search of something… Kyemen couldn’t tell what, only that it was a person… Probably female… He had been attacked by this person, hence the blood… That was as much as he could make out with the time he had. Whatever had happened, the elf was attacking him now, and he knew that he should really just snap his mind and be done with it. And yet, even as he prepared to do so, he hesitated. While the elf’s life had obviously become corrupted and fowl, there was something there, something that tugged on Kyemen’s conscience. While there was darkness here, and evil, there was something that floated on the surface like a single lantern in a dark room, a single pin-prick of light amid the gloom. There was something that this elf still managed to love. No, Kyemen decided, he didn’t have to kill him. He had broken into his mind, and had therefore made his point. Although, he did allow himself one unequivocal message, devoid of a sense of Kyemen’s identity, tone of voice, even gender. But the message itself was clear enough. Stop chasing me.With that, he withdrew his conscious from that of the assassin and pulled his perception back within his own skull. Coming back to himself was like surfacing from a dark lake, accompanied by a gasp of breath. Opening his eyes, he found that the procession had moved on and the people had gone back to their business, so that his frozen crouch was starting to attract attention. He spring up, looking over his shoulder at the assassin. To his surprise, he found him seemingly deep in conversation with another hooded figure. Oh gods, not another one.[/Color] His anxiety returned, he turned on his heel and resumed running the other way, aiming for a side alley away from the main streets. The rain abated some as he reached it, the high buildings on either side sheltering him somewhat from the downpour. Here, he assumed a slightly more leisurely jog, not wanting to rush headlong into something that he couldn’t see. What was that all about?[/Color] Sierthra’ voice startled him out of his thoughts. Why didn’t you kill him? Because I didn’t need to.[/Color] She was silent at that. There was nothing more to be said. Placing aside his thoughts until later, Kyemen kept running.[/size][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress on May 1, 2009 15:29:43 GMT -5
The procession, I decided, wasn’t too nasty of an occurrence. After all, Eisolae was down for the count just like I was, and my guard had left me alone to go hassle anyone else who didn’t show Lorana the worshipful respect all Imperial pigs demanded. The procession was about as fast as a pack of narcoleptic turtles stampeding through peanut butter, but I kept my cool. Once they were gone, I’d ram my knife right into Eisolae’s disgusting back.
Suddenly, I felt a strange itch in my mind. It wasn’t my head; it felt like a fly was crawling around the outside of my brain, which didn’t make any sense. I had to resist the urge to try to scratch at it. I recognized it as magic- that was one feeling I couldn’t forget, despite how rarely I felt it- but I hadn’t called up any spells, and Eisolae hadn’t said anything, so-
The realization of what it was hit me just as soon as a massive weight pressed down on my mind, squeezing it like a vice. It couldn’t exactly be described as pain; it was more like the biggest amount of discomfort you could ever experience without it being pain. The first emotion to grip me was fear, and my heart started pounding. Since when could Eisolae do mental attacks? What had happened to the weak-willed, unhappy little cretin that had come to me begging for a job so many years ago? Suddenly anger gripped me, and I jabbed out at the attack- with what, I wasn’t sure- and tried to fight it off, but I had about as much luck as trying to douse a wildfire with a small cup of water. It felt like she was seizing every part of my body. I wriggled when she bore open my personality, and, despite myself, almost laughed when she retreated at what was in there. But then she was back again, and this time she went for my current thoughts and recent memories. My fury returning, I attacked her again, and this time I actually managed to slow her progress. But by the time she retreated again, she had managed to steal some snippets of information, although I wasn’t sure about exactly what she’d gotten.
And then, oddly, she lingered for a moment, as if unsure of what to do to me next. I marshalled myself for a third attack, but stopped when I felt her gently prodding at something about me, and this time, it didn’t make her retreat. It was Iffy. I thought of her tiny, bright face, and at once I suddenly felt much more calm, even relaxing a bit. That was Iffy- The one person that could take away my temper. But then I realized, if Eisolae knew about Iffy, and how she was that one light for me, and she decided to dish out some revenge if I let her escape…
No. She suddenly spoke. Stop chasing me. I felt it more than heard it, but I was too panicked about Iffy to really concentrate on it. No fuċking way. She wouldn’t lay a finger on my Iffy.
Suddenly, Eisolae withdrew from my head, and despite the screaming urge to get up and maul her, the mental attack had left me exhausted. I would really have to consider getting some of the Bloodletters’ spellcasters to train me in resisting attacks like that. It took nearly all my strength just to roll over onto my back. I was surprised to see that I was the only one still on the ground, as the procession had moved on, and was even more surprised to see a pair of hard green eyes staring right at my face. It was the female elf. She was looking at me like she expected some kind of explanation, probably for my attacking Eisolae. That was odd. Most elves I’d met would have just scoffed and turned up their noses at violence. It was too petty for them. I realized that she must have said something, but I hadn’t heard it at all during the mental attack. At the moment, though, I couldn’t care less. I didn’t need another stupid elf in my face. However, the only words I could make my dry mouth form were the ones Eisolae had just said to me. “Stop chasing me.”
I was reminded of Iffy, and my eyes widened. Adrenaline surged through my body, masking the pain of the attack and the wound in my stomach. I stood to my full height. I turned away from the elf just in time to see Eisolae careening into yet another alleyway. Now, I was pretty sick of chasing her. It was time to use my head. I vaulted after her, but instead of going into the alley I leapt onto a bunch of crates near one of the buildings she’d passed, and leaped onto its wall. I scrabbled for purchase on the soaking clay, but I managed to climb with some effort. Clearly, I’d been having one too many beers again. After a lot of undignified scratching, I heaved myself up onto the roof, which was flat, like most of the roofs in Feinster. Lucky for me. I was a little higher up than I’d wanted to be, but I would deal with that once Eisolae was in view again. I ducked against the roaring downpour of rain and started to run, sticking close to the edge of the building. When I ran out of roof, I jumped onto the next one. After three more jumps, I saw her, although she had slowed down to a jog. Matching my pace to hers and moving away from the edge to stay hidden, I plotted out what to do next. I doubted a jump from this height would kill me, especially since I planned to use Eisolae as a safety net, but if she saw me coming I’d likely end up as shish kebab on her sword. Growling, I looked at my gloved hands, noticing the tiny bumps on my fingers where my rings were. Then I remembered my darts.
I stopped- if I did it fast enough I would manage to catch up with Eisolae again- and tore off my left glove. Glittering jewelled rings covered all four of my fingers. I stuck my hand under my cloak to keep them from getting wet. Then I twisted the first jewel, a ruby, off the gold band, exposing the tiny space inside it. I was disappointed to see that it was empty. I screwed it on again and removed the emerald from the second ring, and was irritated to see that the carved space in the jewel was bare again. Replacing it, I prayed when I went to the third, a sapphire, and twisted it off. I sighed with relief when I saw it full of white powder. I was going to have to get them refilled when I went back to Dras-Leona.
I reached into a large pocket of my cloak and pulled out four tiny darts. Twisting off the tips, I dumped a portion of poison inside each of them, and then allowed a few drops of rainwater to fall on them so that the powder would be wet. Nightshade, the flower I grew for this particular poison, was deadly to humans, but to elves it caused explosive stomach pain and drowsiness, but no real damage. I’d discovered it on several occasions when one of the puny mortals underneath me had mixed it in with my dinner, hoping to usurp my position when I ate the deadly meal. Naturally, these persons had been dealt with viciously at the time. As for Eisolae, it would slow her down enough to let me get close enough to her to maim her like she deserved.
Once I’d replaced the tips of the darts and the glove on my hand, I bounded off once more, pushing the darts into my pocket again. I’d let two minutes slip by, much more than I’d intended, and Eisolae had disappeared. I leapt onto roof after roof, even descending to some lower ones, but after twenty minutes of frantic searching, she was well and truly gone. Eventually, I gave up and descended to ground level again. If she hadn’t left, she’d probably gone onto one of the main streets again. By now, though, I was seriously considering going to the Bloodletters’ safehouse here in Feinster and getting their help, but that weighed down on my ego too much to try yet. I ducked out of the alley and wound my way to the closest large street. I stepped past the buildings on either side of me, and nearly jumped with surprise when I saw a huge crowd of people bolting past me, men, women, and children alike, all thickly cloaked and hooded to keep from getting wet. They were being ushered by soldiers, who stabbed at anyone who wasn’t going in the right direction.
“Get on with you!” one of the guards yelled at me, and I half-jumped out of the way to avoid being gutted by his spear. “The sorcerers want everyone at the main gate, and that includes pretty boys like you!” “I’m not a citizen,” I snapped, but he just jabbed at me again, annoyed at my tone. “Doesn’t matter! We’ve got orders to arrest anyone who isn’t at the gate in ten minutes!” A third jab. “Get moving!”
I had no choice but to follow the crowd as they swarmed towards the gates. Sorcerers. I didn’t know much about them, other than that they conjured up scary spectres to slave for them and satisfy their egos. They hadn’t interfered in gang business much, though, so I’d never really thought about them. Luckily, with all the people gathered at the gates, I might see Eisolae, if she hadn’t skipped town yet.
However, that thought quickly dissipated when I saw just how many people were gathered around the gates. Everyone, except the guards, were hooded and cloaked against the rain, which appeared to be getting worse. Lightning flashed across the sky, followed in short by the rumbling boom of thunder. The gates themselves were pure iron and forty feet high, with a half-finished wall surrounding them. Abandoned timber for further construction leaned against nearby buildings. The townspeople surrounded it, grumbling and complaining about the sorcerers' egomania and that Lady Lorana was far too hospitable for her own good. It was odd, calling down the whole city. I had no clue what the magicians wanted. I tried to look for them, but seeing as I had no idea what they looked like, I couldn’t see them.
The flash of rain glinting off metal caught my eye, and I turned to see a very familiar figure hurrying into the shelter of some of the overhanging timbers, the sword swinging gently against her back. Remembering the task at hand, I went into stealth mode, moving around the crowd and behind a pile of logs about twenty feet away from where Eisolae was standing. Oddly, though she seemed nervous as hell, she wasn’t doing anything, as if she was locked in an imaginary conversation. I removed a copper tube from my pocket, then the poisoned darts, and slipped them into the tube. I put it around my lips just as Eisolae appeared to break out of her reverie. She took a cautious step into the open, looking around for me. I aimed at her back. When she took her second step, I blew as hard as I could into the tube, and one-two-three-four darts flew out in rapid succession. They quickly disappeared from my sight, being so small and hidden by the rain. I was paying close attention to Eisolae, though. She was starting to walk with a little more confidence, but then she suddenly twitched, as if she’d been pinched. Realizing I’d been holding my breath, I exhaled, and nearly danced with joy. At least one of the darts had managed to pierce through her cloak and into her skin. Almost immediately, she broke into a run again, hurrying into the crowd to try and hide herself. I loped after her at a leisurely pace, pleased with myself. It wouldn’t be long before the poison started working, and then Eisolae would be experiencing serious hunger pangs. Words;; 2061 Muse;; WEIRDDDDDDD Thoughts;; IT'S BAD, BUT DON'T HATE ON ME FOR IT!!! PLEASE TAKE TIME WITH YOUR POSTS. -dances- I STOLE FROM ELVEE MUAHAHAHA AND IT'S BEEN EDITED DOUBLE MWAHAHAHAHA AND KYEMEN IS IN PAIN NAO TRIPLE MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!![/size]
|
|
|
Post by renea on May 1, 2009 16:21:40 GMT -5
Tasalae watched as the man went down the next street, hoping he would get away from his elf, mostly because she knew that elves could kill faster then any being and not only that had the knowledge to do it quickly. She watched as the male elf seemed to be being attacked and then stood, telling her to stop chasing him, but she was not about to do such a thing, for something was going on and she was going to follow. She watched as he disappeared over the roof and she went down the alley, running quickly past people and seeing the human in site. She needed to help, to tell this person to remove the hood so that the elf would know he was not chasing another elf. Tasalae was worried that this might end in a death and she was not going to let that happen any time soon. It scared her about death when a elf did it, because a elf like this male was one who did not give up, even if he was not sure who he was killing. She heard the sound of people and also the sound of the male running on the roof, but she just wanted to keep in site the human. She started to use her own mental attacks to stop him, screaming one word in his head.
"Stop! I am a älfa named Tasalae, please stop so I may help you!" She knew that elves could go through any mind and she used a lot of her mental power to break through his, mostly because she felt he had more then just human strength fighting. She stopped after a minute, hoping that her words had gone through. He had just repeated it over and over again for a minute and if it went through he would stop, if it didn't he would stop sooner or later to rest.
To her surprise he did, but she noticed for other reasons. The guards were making everyone met at the gate, crowds were there, even the male elf. This was not good, how was she going to help this human if that elf was around everywhere she went. She was not sure, but she got close to the elf and looked at him, her emerald eyes hidden behind her own hood. She called to him, low at first and then raising her voice for just a mere moment.
"You there, quickly, I fear someone has mistaken you for another and is trying to kill you," She did not know if the human would listen, but she hoped she would. She waited for a response and watched the other. She heard something that sound like small shooting sound and saw that the elf was using blow darts now. This was not good and fear washed over her eyes before she quickly regained herself.
|
|
|
Post by Angmor on May 6, 2009 20:49:31 GMT -5
I think you lost him. Kyemen slid to a stop in the wet dirt, automatically looking up to find his friend even though he knew he couldn’t see her through the clouds. Are you sure? [/Color] As far as he could see, the alley behind him was empty of all but rain. Yes. After he got onto the roof, he just stood there. He just didn’t follow you. And the other one?[/Color] Other one?[/I][/Color] At that moment, Kyemen felt a sudden pressure on his mind, pushing against his defenses. But it was weak, and he brushed it aside as he would parry a glancing sword stroke. Now, mental attacks were hardly a precise art, but it did mean the second assassin knew where he was. With a sigh, he turned back and kept running. A moment later, he ererged from the alley and onto another main street, As with the other street, his sight of this one came with a surprise. As far as he could tell, all of the people on this street where being rousted by the soldiers and told to march east in various states of preparedness. There was even one young woman emerging from a shop, rebuttoning the front of her dress indignantly as a embarrassed looking young man trotted out behind her. This was quite serious then. It’s not just this street, Kyemen. It’s the whole city, as far as I can see. But where are they going?[/Color] Just then a large man plowed into Kyemen from his left, bowling him over completely. “of all the damn fool places to stand! Watch where you’re going you…” Kyemen figured the man must have spotted the sword on his back at that point, and thought of just what kind of damage he could do with it. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please, let me help you…” Kyemen wasn’t particularly angry. The man had knocked him out from in front of the alley, and therefore the line of sight of the second assassin. He accepted the man’s hand, hauling himself to his feet. “It’s quite all right. I shouldn’t have been standing there gawping.” The man’s relieved thoughts were just about transparent, that he was not not about to be impaled by yet another dreadful mercenary here for a good scrap. At least one of them had manners. “Tell me,” Kyemen continued. “What’s going on? Where’s everyone going?” “As those soldiers will probably tell you in a minute, those three sorcerers that Galbatorix sent us are summoning every one to the gate. Dashed if I know why. Lady Lorana has been giving that trio far more liberty than she should, if you ask me…” The man must have realized that what was coming out of his mouth was actually honest-to-gods criticisms of the government with soldiers standing not a hundred feet away. “Anyway, I must be going.” He hurried away before Kyemen could say anything more. He lingered for a moment. Well, what do you make of that? [/color] He could almost hear the humming noise his friend would be making deep in her throat as she considered the problem from her lofty perspective. A wave of desire washed over him, to be up in the rainy sky with her, away from knife-throwing assassins and marauding city rulers, away from whims of corrupt soldiers and egomaniacal sorcerers. Away from this whole stupid venture, with nothing but his friend and the brisk sky. She must not have noticed. I think you should go. I’d rather not risk you trying to get past the soldiers. Besides, anything that these sorcerers are doing would probably be valuable information.[/Color] It was true, he had to admit, it would probably be a good idea to see what was going on. But all the same, he was... still walking into a huge crowd of people in full view of hundreds of soldiers and three powerful sorcerers. All the better. In that many people, what are the odds of that assassin finding you again? And even if he does, he couldn’t possibly be dumb enough to try anything in full view of the authorities.[/Color] Out of arguments, he turned around and went with the crowd, hoping no one would notice his nervousness. A few moments later, he was on the street he had entered by. Very little had changed since then, except that there was a great deal more people, and the rain was getting worse. He felt Sierthra’s keen distaste. Hmph. Those spellcasters have just as bad day-planning skills as you do. Oh, ha ha. Give me a layout please, if you’re not too busy chuckling to yourself.[/Color] As he had requested, she sent him an image of what she could see. While she was too high to make out any real details, but it was easy from her dragon’s eye view to make out the cluster of hundreds of people arranged in a rough semi-circle inside the gates, as well as the three isolated figures outside them. The sorcerers, he assumed. As he was examining the image for escape routes and weakness of the guards should anything go wrong, he almost didn’t notice the heavily wrapped figure that subtly approached him from the crowd to his left. Almost, but not quite entirely. While he tensed for an attack, he gave no sign, simply continuing as if he was indeed ignorant. After a moment, the figure drew abreast, matching his pace subtly. Without turning to him, a voice came to him from under the hood. "You there, quickly, I fear someone has mistaken you for another and is trying to kill you," From the pitch of the voice, it obviously belonged to a female. His first thought was, why would she care? She obviously wasn’t with the Empire, or apparently in league with the assassin. Either way though, she was rather slow on the uptake. He was about to respond with a derogatory you think? when two things happened. First, his incredibly selective hearing picked out a strange sound from somewhere behind him, sounding like a child blowing through a hollow reed. The second was that there was a small piercing pain in the small of his back, as if he had been pricked with a needle. Before his eyes could even widen, his instinct took over and he was running again, dashing into a knot of the crowd to break the assassin’s line of sight yet again. While the needle might not be all that painful, he knew from experience that they could be deadly. Frantically, he reached around under his cloak, clawing at the source of the pain. In his blind hurry, he only managed to jam the dart in further. At almost that exact second, a blade twisted in his gut, setting his insides on fire. He felt himself stumbling blindly, his breathing becoming a groan. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even wonder what was happening, he could only feel the waves of agony pulsing through him. Sierthra was shouting something at him, he was sure of it, but it sounded as if it was coming to him through deep water. He knew her well enough to know what she was about to do, and still had enough thought capacity left to try and stop her. No Sierthra… Stay away… Too many people… Can’t help…[/Color] Another spasm racked him before he could say anything more, and his legs failed him. He collapsed to the paving in a wet heap, knowing there was probably people all around him but unable to see them through the strange blurring green haze that overpowered his vision… He curled into a tight ball, clutching his stomach to prevent his entrails from exploding from his torso, even as he vomited his last meal onto the cobbles. He knew he had to get up, had to fight… The assassin was coming, and he had to fight… But he couldn’t get up, He didn’t even know which way ‘up’ was. He could only lie how he was and hope he survived the next few minutes… [/size][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress on May 16, 2009 15:35:48 GMT -5
Relocating Eisolae was no sweat. I lost her for a few moments when she blundered into the crowd like the devil was behind her while I leisurely trotted after her, counting the seconds until she would fall down flat. I passively inched my way through the assembled civilians for a couple of minutes until I found her. It was pretty easy to tell which one she was- besides the oversized kitchen knife on her back, she was the only one on the ground curled into a ball and gasping with pain, surrounded by a crowd of curious onlookers. I joined them, watching her for several moments. I couldn’t hide my smile when she vomited. It was always nice to get retribution. And I wasn’t finished, either.
I would definitely have had the chance to kill Eisolae if she hadn’t made such a show of her pain. If she’d just flopped over, everyone probably would have ignored her. I could easily have swooped in, plunged a choice knife into her ribs, and then left. Nobody would even notice the blood all over the ground by the time I hurried out of there, and with all the people, there was no way anyone could figure out who had stabbed her. However, with her gasping and whining and barfing, she’d been given a wide berth as well as a couple of staring passers-by. I couldn’t kill her immediately. It was just as well, though. I did enjoy playing with the more antagonizing victims. Clearing my throat, I walked towards her and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her with false care. Bending over reignited the pain in my stomach, and I nearly dropped her. Besides that, she seemed awfully heavy for such a petite woman, although I guessed that was just from the sword. It looked like it weighed a hundred pounds.
“Sugar lips, I told you that porridge was bad, didn’t I?” I said gently, but also loudly. “That’s the last time I’m lettin’ my ma cook for us, a’ight?” Plenty of the onlookers lost attention at that, and as they turned away, I hefted up Eisolae a little more brutally. I didn’t want her to barf all over me, so I held her face-down with her head as far away from my body as possible. Wrapping my arms around her middle, I looked around for any possible hiding spot, but the area was full of people. I decided to try hiding underneath the timber logs that I’d managed to poison Eisolae from. So, I fixed my hold on her and started off, but I couldn’t resist whispering a few choice words into her ear as I walked.
“Hurts, don’t it?” She probably couldn’t even hear me from the pain, but it was too much fun for me to care much. ”Thing is, doll, if you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned real bad. If you think you’re gonna-” I broke off and glanced up when a flash of reflected light caught my eye.
A huge double line of pikemen had surrounded the townspeople, with the butts of their spears stabbed into the ground and their blades pointing at the civilians. They had completely surrounded the crowd, and, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t see a single break. I saw one guard who wasn’t in the line, just a young recruit by his ill-fitting armour and the lack of badges. I went up to him. Lesser-ranking soldiers tended to be awfully unaware of criminals, and I didn’t think I’d have too much trouble with him. He looked up when I approached, and quickly stabbed his sword at me.
“Just wait a second... mister,” he breathed. His lips were blue with cold, and his voice was unnaturally loud. He was probably trying to make himself look tougher. “… Lady’s orders. You can’t leave the gates!” “It’s my wife… sir.” I nearly forgot to add the formality. It had been a while since I’d been on the receiving end of commands. I added a smile, trying to seem as friendly as possible. “Got herself a cold in this damn rain. Mind if I just drop her off at the house? I’ll come right back.” Eisolae threw up again, except all that came up this time was a little bit of spittle. Still, it was enough to make the soldier really consider letting me go. But one hesitant glance at the massive line of soldiers behind him made him shake his head and raise his own spear. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, “but the wizards want everybody by the gates. Your wife’ll have to wait.” I must have snarled or done something else threatening, because he suddenly raised the spear higher and pointed it at my chest. “And we’ll escort you if you don’t listen!”
I pressed my lips together in irritation, but did as he said. I wasn’t going to risk revealing myself just to avoid a trio of egotistical magicians. I melted back into the crowd, heaving Eisolae onto my right shoulder and desperately hoping she wasn’t going to barf again. At the very least, the meeting might prove to be interesting. I shoved my way through the crowd, trying to get as close to the gates as possible. After some time, I managed to see three small robed figures standing in front of the gates, their hands clasped in their sleeves. Besides them was an enormous barred iron cage, which was empty. The door hung wide open. I could also see Lady Lorana near the magicians, seated on her horse. I was still too far away to see their faces, though. I forced myself further on, ignoring the snaps of protest whenever I trod on a foot or knocked someone out of the way.
After several minutes, I heard someone speaking. The voice was unnaturally loud and hit both my ears at exactly the same level, so I couldn’t tell which way it was coming from. After some time, I realized it was one of the spellcasters, probably suing magic to amplify his voice. I glanced over the heads of the three rows in front of me and saw that one of the men was the one talking, while the other two glared at the crowd from under their hoods. Lady Lorana looked nervous, oddly- she was wringing her hands and had her eyes shut tight.
“… gathered here today to witness the might of the Empire!” the magician said. He seemed to be expecting applause, so a few of the gathering clapped. Seeming satisfied, he continued, “You will not need to fear attack from the Varden anymore, for today we will weave spells that will fortify this…”
It was a boring speech, so I tuned it out for a while. It was another anti-Varden movement, nothing special. Blackwood Company had never really bothered with either the Empire or the Varden- the Varden had always been an insignificant speck far off in the Beors, and we usually tried to keep under the Empire’s radar. The Enclave as a whole, though, had sold weapons to Surda once or twice, but I’d never had anything to do with it.
“… Of course, this being such a huge undertaking, we’ll be needing some, er, volunteers.” I jerked with surprise and glanced at the spellcaster again. Now he had a disturbing grin on his face. “We’ll be choosing them ourselves. Now, you’re all going to be subjected to a tiny little probe. It’s a harmless thing, and all it’ll be looking for is anything anti-Imperial, anti-Galbatorix, or pro-Varden. Anyone we find with any of these thoughts will be asked to step forward. If you refuse, we’ll get a soldier to escort you.” The magician who was speaking stepped backwards, but then seemed to remember something. “Oh, and if you resist the probe, you’ll be asked to step forward as well.”
I resisted the urge to grab my head. The last thing I needed right now was another probe. And what if they figured out who I was? I started to push backwards, and noticed that I wasn’t the only one doing so. Everyone was trying to get away from the sorcerers. But at the back of the crowd, the line of soldiers suddenly tightened and drew forward, trapping the town. There was nowhere to go. Nervous, I turned back towards the gate, and blinked with surprise when I saw what was happening.
The line of townsfolk directly in front of the wizards looked like they were being… possessed. All of them were bowing forwards and back so far that they should have lost their balance and fallen, but they remained completely suspended in the air. Some of them were brought onto their knees and then raised up again. Then, suddenly, the row of people seemed to be broken out of their reverie. They fell to the ground, gasping. One man was asked to come forward by the spellcasters. Then the second row was put through the same thing that the first row had been, locked in a creepy dance. When it was over a couple of minutes later, two women and a girl who couldn’t have been more than eight years old were asked to move forward. The next few rows went through pretty much the same thing, except for one or two times when someone refused to come forward and was accosted by a guard. When it was my row’s turn, I winced and waited for the onslaught.
The feeling was actually very interesting. It wasn’t painful at all, just like the sorcerer had said, just a gentle wisp going through my mind. It filled my whole body with warmth, making me realize just how cold I’d been earlier. It was only hunting for one thing, and when it found it, it closed down onto it. It was a raid I’d participated in a couple of years ago. We’d been contracted to lift some documents, but the entire operation had gone horribly wrong and had resulted in five dead on our side and twelve murdered Imperial soldiers. After going through that memory, the wisp went away, and I gasped as the freezing cold of the rain made my body icy again. I also noticed that I was kneeling on the ground, and everyone was staring at me. I’d dropped Eisolae beside me, and she looked like she was trying to get up. My hood had fallen back, and the rain was already soaking my dark hair.
“You two!” I heard a male voice shout. I didn’t need to wonder who the two were. “Get up and move towards the sorcerers!” I blinked and managed to stand up awkwardly, still in shock from the disappearance of the wisp. When I didn’t move forward, though, and Eisolae failed to get up, two guards came up and grabbed us both- one big burly one with shoulders like a bull lifted up Eisolae and tossed her over his shoulder, while a short, mousy one roughly pushed me forward. “Get moving!” he yelled.
I stumbled forward, wanting to pull my hood back over my face. A tiny path was made for me as the crowd made space for me and the guards, and I made it to the front without much trouble. I glanced around. The magicians were focussing on the next row of people, and soldiers were herding the chosen ‘volunteers’ into the huge iron cage. I was pushed up the ramp leading into the cage as well. The guard holding Eisolae shoved her into my arms. It was around then that the after-effects of the wisp began to wear off. Shaking my head, I looked around at the group in the cage. All of them had expressions of panic and fear on their faces. Among them, I noticed a glint of green eyes in one of the many hoods, and I realized that the female elf must have been stuck in here too. There weren’t too many pro-Imperial Fair Folk, I’d noticed.
I desperately looked for a way out, but the cage was solid. The rain pattering off the bars sounded like ringing swords. The gate door was still open to let more traitors in, but it was surrounded by soldiers. Quickly, I began to think of a possible escape method. There were Enclave members in Feinster, definitely- it was even big enough to have its own branch, like Dras-Leona, called the Ashlanders. I didn’t exactly have the best of relationships with them, but I was sure they’d come bust me out if I could get a message to their head, Malekai. I settled Eisolae onto the cage floor, muttering, “I’ll deal with you later, you hear?”
Then I started going through my pockets. I needed something that would get the Enclave’s attention, but not anyone else’s. All I had, though, were more knives, the copper tube, more blow darts, some throwing stars, and a lock pick or two. While I desperately searched, more anti-Imperial civilians were herded into the cage, which I didn’t notice until the cage door was suddenly slammed shut, making me jerk with surprise. I looked around, and was surprised at the number of people inside. There had to be at least fifty people of all ages and genders. I had unwittingly been pressed to the edge of the cage while they’d been moved inside. I looked for Eisolae, and saw her sitting up against the iron bars, breathing hard and trying to stand up. I considered kicking her over just for the hell of it, but just then another magician, a woman this time, started speaking to the trapped civilians.
“Shame, truly, that so many of you don’t see Galbatorix’s kindness in the light that we do. Which is why…” she approached the cage, and smiled up at the people inside. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Which is why we’re going to show you the light through another way. You’ll be assisting us in putting the spells over these gates, where your negative energy will come in good use.” She stepped backwards and turned towards her fellow magicians.
I slid to the cage floor, biting my lip. I needed a way out, and I needed a way out now. Words;; 2377. o.O Muse;; HORRIBLE despite the length. Thoughts;; IT SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I RUSHED IT AND BLAH AND I REALLY REALLY HATE IT!!!!!!!!![/size]
|
|
|
Post by renea on May 20, 2009 11:32:40 GMT -5
She had not hidden the fact that she was with the Varden, she had pushed that to the front of her mind. They had gotten her quickly and not long after the other elves were taken. She moved quickly, taking her arm from the soldier and moving through the crowd quickly and showing through her emerald eyes no fear, of course, she quickly said the words to alter the color of her eyes only and her ears. It did not take much, it just made the humans see her different, but the elves saw her completely normal. As she got in she hurried to the elf that had been hit and looked at him, seeing him in some pain. She looked around and growled under her breath as she found the elf responsible.
"Who is it you look for a man or woman, because that is a man you have hurt and I have a feeling not just any man," She did not care what this elf thought, but she was not going to let the humans hear die because they wish to serve someone other then the empire. She moved through the crowd, but the one human who she saw was the young girl, to young to even know the meaning of death. She moved to the young girl, the mother was probably in the crowd outside, or maybe even in the pen. She touched the child with her hand and pulled her into her arms, ready to protect this young girl.
((I am going to possible make a profile for the girl, I have a Idea for a possible plot for Tasalae))
She held the girl close and then went back to the other elf, standing next to him. She was not going to let those mere, weak spell casters take her out. She was strong in magic and also in her swordsmanship.
((Sorry for the short thing, it sucks I know))
|
|
|
Post by Angmor on May 23, 2009 23:14:00 GMT -5
You can find comfort in the strangest of places when you need to. In Kyemen's case, he drew a little solace from the fact that the pain didn't seem to be able to get any worse. It wasn't much, but it was something. He was vaguely aware that something was going on around him, but he was hurting too much to even try to figure out what it was. He was probably only about half conscious at this point. There was much bumping and jostling... He was being dropped... A milling foot slammed into his stomach... That probably hurt a good deal, but at the moment it was nothing. A drop in an ocean. A ripple in this strange netherworld.
At that moment, the pain seemed to lessen slightly. At first he didn't notice, but it gradually lessened to the point where he could almost see. That was strange. Perhaps he was falling fully unconscious. That sounded nice right now, sinking into the warm darkness- Damn it Kyemen, wake up! [/Color] The voice was like a slap in the face. In a good way. Sierthra? Is that you? What's happening? Not a whole lot of time to explain. I'm absorbing as much of your pain as I can so at least you can think- Doesn't that hurt? Of course it hurts! Just shut up and let me talk, alright?[/Color] He forced himself into silence, trying to absorb what she was telling him with his somewhat addled brain. Now listen. They have you in a big cage, you and a few dozen others, including both assassins. Apparently the sorcerers found traitorous thoughts in all of your heads, and are going to use your energy for whatever spell they are planning.[/Color] There was a long pause as Kyemen considered. Aye, I'd say that's pretty bad. What do you plan to do about it?[/Color] It was a good question. A very good question. Kyemen decided he had best make an effort to find out the answer. For the first time, he gazed at and saw his surroundings. Sierthra was right, it was a cage. A big, solid looking one. As he watched, a soldier outside shut the metal door with a sharp clang, making the cries of those around him reach a crescendo. He turned his head from left to right, scanning those around him from his sitting position. There was quite a few other people in the cage. At least… Well, quite a few. He stiffened when he spotted the assassin not more than an arm’s length away, testing the thick bars with a look of calculating desperation on his face. Kyemen tried to rise, but his legs would not obey him. He slipped back onto his backside on the wet copper floor. Ok, not quite up to coordinated movement then. He slumped back… And the back of his head hit something hard and familiar. He looked up. Strangely, the guards hadn’t taken his sword. He couldn’t think why not at the moment, but he was sure that it was a perfectly good reason. Either way, it was probably going to help immensely. Iron bars were one thing, but Elven starmetal was quite another. Of course, that would mean standing up… Gathering all of his strength and concentration, he seized hold the bars above him and began to haul himself up, gritting his teeth at the renewed flood of nausea. He felt is legs wobble, wanting him to fall back down… Don’t you dare! You do not quit on me, or I will be forced to come down there and get you. And believe me, you don’t want that. Now get up! Do something useful for a change! I will not have you die on me before we've even finished what we've come here to do, and I am not going to be the one to tell Nasuada that you are dead because you didn't kill the man that was stalking you all morning...[/Color] Distracted by Sierthra’s shouting, he found that he had gotten to his feet about half way through it. He experimentally let go of the bars. He swayed slightly, but balance seemed to have restored itself. At last, Kyemen smiled, reaching for his sword as he set his sights on the lock of the door… That is, until something landed on him. It was rather a familiar feeling, actually. As he was driven to the floor amid the scrambling feet of panicking men and woman, he recognized the sneering face of the man that had been trying to kill him all morning just as it was obscured by a descending fist. He felt his head loll sideways with the impact, but the effect was rather like piercing someone with a thousand burning swords, and then pricking his toe with a needle. Kyemen barely felt it, or the next blow, or the next. He did however get rather tired of this man trying to hurt him all the time. With a sigh, he reached for his magic. He didn’t find it immediately, but soon he felt it, that strange bump in his conscious that part of himself, and yet alien somehow. Smiling, he drove through it, feeling the power race through his veins in a icy tingle that banished the last of his dizziness. Raising his left hand, he looked into the eye of his would-be killer just as the man was raising another blow, and smiled. “Reisa!” The energy expended was very little, but the effect was as spectacular as it was immediate. With a cry of alarm, the assassin was flung straight upwards and hit the roof with a rather painful sound between a bang and a crunch followed by a string of colorful and rather creative invective. Before he could fall back, Kyemen spoke another spell, binding him to the bars like a butterfly pinned to an upside-down board. Kyemen stared up at him from the floor, lowering his hand. He was sure he was grinning like a lunatic, but for the moment, he didn’t care. “You just hang tight.” He said, spitting out the blood and lingering vomit in his mouth. “I’ll get us out of here, and then attend to you shortly.” As he got to his feet again, the assassin's profanity raining down on his head, for the first time he was able to look at what was happening outside the cage. Between the frantic men and women scrabbling at the bars, he could see the guards had drawn well back, giving the sorcerers a wide berth to do their work. About ten yards away, three of them had lowered their heads and raised their arms as if beseeching the gods for a bolt of lighting from the heavens, chanting in the ancient language. From the words in the chant, Kyemen could tell they were just about ready to start leeching the energy from the captives, including himself. He knew that it would not take very long to bleed them dry, and he did not have enough time to weave a counterspell, even if he could concentrate properly. Sierthra might have helped, but his limbs still felt rubbery and his stomach was still convinced that it was on the deck of a ship in high seas. His shoulders slumped in defeat. For the last time, he had exhausted all of his options. At that precise moment, a glittering blur of an object swept over the crowd and dived not three feet above the heads of the mages, trailing a carpet of emerald flame in its wake, filling the air with a deafening roar. Not all. Now please, hurry with whatever it is you are about to do.[/Color] The sorcerers apparently had wards, for even though they stood amid a long scorch mark, they were continuing their chant, if somewhat more unsteadily than before. By the fact that they continued even as the cry went up and archers from the gate ran forward to get a clear shot at Sierthra, Kyemen guessed that this wasn't the sort of spell one could leave hanging, even if it had been delayed by a few seconds. Weakened as he was, Kyemen didn't feel like going against three powerful spellcasters as well as the entire garrison. One thing was certain though, he had to get out before their spell got caught up. "Out of the way! Clear the door!" He shouted above the din, trying to draw his sword amid the jostling bodies. His shouts had just about the affect of a small gust of wind on the downward progress on an avalanche, but as soon as his blade cleared the sheath, they quickly scattered to the ends of the cage, crying in fear. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was close enough. Gritting his teeth, he raised the sword above his head with both hands and brought it flashing down on the lock of the door. Clang!There was a definite mark on the metal, a small crease left by the blade. While he could have simply used magic to spring open the lock, he did not want the mages detecting it. Amid the sound of the rain and the cries of the prisoners, this was far less noticeable. Kyemen was dimly aware that Sierthra was coming around for another pass, scorching the ground just ahead of the crowd in a spectacular show of distraction. As she did, Kyemen brought down the sword again, and again. On the fourth attempt, the door sprang open as it was at last severed from the lock. It happened so suddenly that he lost his balance, pitching onto his face in the wet earth, twisting to avoid landing on his own blade. That would have been good, the great Dragon Rider escaping from his prison only to impale himself on the way out. By now, the guards had noticed the escape, and were rushing from the city with spears leveled and swords drawn. Glancing over his shoulder as he stood up, he saw that the archers were keeping Sierthra too busy to get close enough to help him. Even as he watched, one of the ballistae mounted on the wall fired it's deadly missile, and his dragon only just managed to outrun it with a quick burst of speed in her muscular wings. He was on his own. He turned to face the oncoming soldiers, assuming a shaky guard with his sword and hoping that he would recover fully from the poison by the time they reached him. Trying to buy himself more time, he raised his right hand, using one of his favorite simple spells as he reached for the magic. "Thrysta vindr!" The ball of coelsced air slammed into the first rank of soldiers, sending five of them flying backward into their comrades, causing instant disarray. It was then that Kyemen realized he had lost his glove. He remembered taking it off to investigate the tingling sensation that had heralded the start of his misfortune, but he had no recollection of it after that. Wherever he had dropped it, it now meant that the mark on his palm was now glowing merrily for all to see. At that moment as the soldiers were untangling themselves, a cry went up from someone in the cage. "He's a Rider. He's a Rider! A Dragon Rider leads us!" immediately the cry was taken up by all of the prisoners, who started pouring out of the now ruined door behind him. Kyemen had no idea what they were planning on doing; did they honestly expect to be able to win against all of Feinster and three spellcasters simply because he was in the same prediciment? Just then the faint drain of energy tugged at him, and he remembered the assassin, still pinned to the top of the cage. "Letta." He muttered, turning to see the result. Freed from the spell, the main seemed to hover for a moment, and then dropped like a rock. The impact was obscured from his view by the last few people to scramble out of the cage, but Kyemen could imagine that it probably hurt pretty good. But the soldiers had at last sorted themselves out, and he had no time to think more. By the time the first sword was swung at him, he was thinking about nothing at all. Not wondering how he had gotten to this point, how this day had gone wrong. Why an assassin he had never met was trying to kill him. Why a crowd of unarmed innocents were apparently willing to die beside him simply because he could make his hand glow. The world had gone mad, and he had accepted it. And that acceptance gave him the strength he needed to parry the first blow. [/size][/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress on May 26, 2009 12:01:21 GMT -5
I could only think of one thing that kept me from smashing my head against the iron bars until I (hopefully) died. And that thought was that I wasn’t going to die here. I hated this place, and if I was going to be spending eternity haunting the spot where I kicked it, then I damn well wanted to spend eternity haunting some place I liked, not this freaking hellhole. If I could only think of something to do, some way to find Malekai or one of his men, I could get out of here with Eisolae in tow, and finally subject her to a long, terrifying, painful death. That thought managed to cheer me up a little. I slowly turned back to look at Eisolae again, trying to contain my anxiety. She was still slumped up against the cage, and looked like she might have gone unconscious.
“Who is it you look for a man or woman, because that is a man you have hurt and I have a feeling not just any man.”
I blinked and glanced around to see the female elf- well, she had changed her appearance just like I had, removing her pointy ears and making her face less feline, but it was undoubtedly her. The look of authority on her face was very familiar. What she said, though, made me raise an eyebrow and straighten myself against the iron bars. What was she talking about? But before I could think of some witty retort, a flash of movement to my right caught my attention, and I turned to see Eisolae trying to get up, uttering tiny moans of pain as she tried to get onto her feet. Now she was just getting annoying. If I died in here, I wanted to make sure I took her with me. With a snarl, I flung myself at her, dragging her down to the floor of the cage. I flipped her over onto her back, and, blind with fury, punched her. And again. And again. And again. Normally I didn’t use such crude methods to kill, but I didn’t care as long as she was in pain. However, as I was raising my fist for the umpteenth blow, I stopped. Eisolae was smiling.
And that wasn’t all. She was a he. The face was so weathered and scarred that it was blatantly male, and at first I didn’t even think it was an elf. But then I saw the pointed ears hidden in his hood, and I realized that he’d either been living like a human for a very long time or, like me, had changed most of his features to appear more human. But how in the hell-
“Reisa!” The word exploded out of the not-Eisolae’s mouth before I could even react. Without warning, I suddenly flew up into the air, only to be stopped by the roof of the cage. I hit it with a clear banging noise, and the shock of it jarred my spine. “Motherfu-” The man spoke again, and what happened next stopped the plethora of curses I was about to scream. I was bound to the roof, stuck up there like a moose head mounted over a fireplace. I wriggled, but the binding held me tight.
All I could think of though, was that he looked so familiar. I had been chasing a freaking man all this time, Eisolae was probably in Surda by now, and all that could nag at my mind was that I had seen the man somewhere. I tried to think, but it escaped me. I thought I could remember his name- Stray-Straethir- Something Straethir. But the name refused to be put to my memories, and I couldn’t remember what made it so important. While I dug around in my brain for who it could be, the man looked up at me, smiling despite the obvious pain in his eyes.
“You just hang tight.” He spat out some more vomit as well as a little bit of blood, and I was suddenly quite glad that I didn’t have the antidote on me. “I’ll get us out of here, and then attend to you shortly.” Without even thinking, I unleashed a torrent of curses. “You tall, [censored]less glass of coċksucker! Let me go or I’ll follow you into hell and peel the skin from your goddam bones and use my thumbs to poke out your goddam eyes, and then I’ll-”
Then the memory struck me. Kyemen Straethir. His name, a sketch of his face, was all over the walls in every Imperial city, just with all the other wanted posters of every Varden Rider, official, or person of particular importance. The fact that I’d been hunting, attacking, and poisoning a Varden Rider cut my words off entirely, and made me truly wonder just how stupid I was. I’d definitely been sitting around in the Saloon too long. I was completely off my game. Nobody in the history of the Enclave had ever attacked a freaking Rider. Or, at least, nobody had ever lived to brag about it. All I could do was stare down at Kyemen as he tromped over to the cage door and used his massive sword to break it open. After an unsuccessful try, he managed to tear the lock open, and nearly fell on his sword falling out of the cage. I had no clue how to react. But then I realized, if there was a Rider here, a Rider who’d just gone through one hell of a day, then where was the-
“Dragon!” the scream was collective, although the tone varied from terror to joy. The roar nearly broke my eardrums, I was sure. I tried to see past the interfering bars at the very large emerald comet that came shooting out of the sky, leaving a wake of flames in its trail. If I was correct, that was Sierthra. And if I didn’t leave, she’d likely barbecue me and serve me up to Kyemen with chips. I wriggled, but the spell was still in place. And then, as if Kyemen had read my mind, he released me. I didn’t really feel the bond going away, but I certainly felt the hard metal floor of the cage when I hit it. I rolled over with a groan, and then hurriedly pressed myself up against the side of the cage when I was nearly trampled to death by the crowd of people pushing to get out, all screaming collective shouts of joy about the Rider. I forced myself up despite the agonizing ache in my spine and chest, and pushed into the crowd of people.
I fell just like Kyemen had when I got out of the cage. The crowd managed to suck me out of the door and then dropped me on the metal ramp, which I had to roll away from once again to avoid the trample of feet. I landed on the cobblestones, right in front of the three spellcasters, who I had completely forgotten about up until that point. They didn’t even notice me- they just stayed in their trance, swaying forwards and back, muttering in the ancient language. The threat of losing my life suddenly loomed once again, and I hurriedly got up and pushed past them, which again they didn’t even register.
I was met with complete and utter chaos. The captured townsfolk, apparently bolstered by the presence of the Rider, were attacking the soldiers and getting themselves nobly impaled on their pikes. I only had time to stare at the scene for a moment, though, because suddenly the air turned a strange, bloody red. I turned back to look at the spellcasters, who were suddenly smiling. All the cries of battle and joy suddenly died off as the captured townsfolk started dropping in the street. Tendrils of the bloody fog wormed their way into one person and then the next, sucking out their energy until they dropped dead on the ground. Nobody even screamed. I was suddenly terribly exhausted, and I swayed on my feet, wanting to go to sleep right there and then. But somewhere inside me, my mind screamed No! and pushed my feet forwards. I ran awkwardly away from the crowd, towards the clear air. As I moved further and further away from the spellcasters, I felt my energy returning, and I picked up speed just as I cleared the red fog. I turned, panting, and watched the events, my mouth hanging agape.
The gates looked like they’d been hit by lightning- they were crackling with blue energy, glowing with the massive energy being fed into them. The spellcasters were on their knees, probably still chanting. The cage now stood empty, but around it were clumped bodies piled onto even more bodies. Bile rose in my throat, which surprised me for a moment. I’d seen death before, and lots of it. I was always very happy to execute the rotten bastards who didn’t pay their dues to the Enclave. I realized after a moment, though, that those were filthy, unethical asses who lived for nothing but their own greed. Of course I loved killing them. But these were babies. I’d seen children even younger than Iffy in that cage, and now their bodies were piled among the dead like soiled rags. The thought of one of them being Iffy made me sway, and I couldn’t stop the vomit- as well as with some blood from the wound in my stomach, now completely forgotten- from spouting out of my mouth. I retched on the ground and backed away from the scene, disturbed by both it and by my reaction. The last time I’d thrown up like that was when I’d found Noir and Lella dead. I turned and fled the scene.
I managed to get away from the main crowd and into the safety of the main buildings in Feinster. They were completely empty, so I just sank to the ground in the middle of the street without even bothering to hide myself. I rubbed the sweat from my face and just allowed myself to calm down for a few moments. Eventually, my heart stopped pounding so hard, and gradually the fear sloughed away to leave nothing but barren emptiness in my heart and overwhelming physical pain. I looked down at myself and undid the front of my cloak, then unbuttoned the front of my shirt to see what being flung around like a rag doll had done to me. A nice collection of bruises covered my torso, along with the gurgling wound that Eisolae had made. I probably had similar bruises on my back. I let out a pent-up breath and re-buttoned the shirt, then tugged the cloak around myself. I left the hood down around my shoulders, though. The rain felt good on my burning face.
I simply sat there quietly for a while, but after a bit I decided that I needed to leave. When the confusion at the gates was over, I didn’t want to be faced with the soldiers’ scrutiny- not to mention I had no clue what Kyemen and Sierthra would do to me when they found me. There was no way I was going to go around alone again after this. I thought about going over to the Enclave safehouse, but if Kyemen caught me there, Serkan, the Enclave boss, would likely eat what was left of me for his dinner. I would just head back to Dras-Leona, then. Feeling enormously tired, I stood up from the street and started to walk north. There was supposed to be a small gate near the castle, so I could get out through there. I took several small streets in that direction, and simply lost myself in my thoughts for a while as I walked, blind to my surroundings.
Therefore, I didn’t notice the oversized green lizard waiting for me at the end of the street until she bared her fangs in a reptilian snarl. She was completely veiled in darkness- seeing as she was standing in a large alley and completely hidden by the rain. I drew to a sudden stop. I didn’t know if Kyemen was with her or not, but I certainly wasn’t going to stick around to find out. My heart pounding, I turned and bolted out of the alley, shooting into another street. I was immediately followed by the dragon’s deafening roar as she hurtled after me. I had to think. The dragon was big. Very big. I needed a small space, somewhere tiny and yet big enough for me to hide from any fire she spat. My first thought was a sewer, but the thought was so disgusting that I chose possible death over it. Instead, I barrelled into one of the houses. The door was locked, but I forced it open by throwing myself against it, making the lock fly off, and then slamming the door behind me when I went inside.
I was just in time, too. A second roar of fury nearly knocked me off my feet by its sheer volume. What was I supposed to do? Offer her some giant insects? I hurtled away from the door when it was suddenly cooked by a blast of fire, then torn to shreds by one of the dragon’s claws. Luckily for me, the rest of the house was stone, which didn’t burn, and the door was far too tiny for her to fit through. Sierthra scratched at the floor, trying to reach me with her claws. When she failed to get a grip on me, she lowered her head to the doorway so she could glare at me with one unblinking green eye.
Out of all the things I could have said, all I could mumble was, “Um. Nice dragon.”
At a third roar of fury, I pelted out of the front room and up the stairs, ducking into a bedroom. I was exhausted, and I really had no clue how I was going to get out of this one- nothing in Enclave protocol or training included how to avoid being barbecued by a seriously ticked off dragon. All I could do was slide to the floor and bite my nails, wondering what to do next. Words;; 2383 Muse;; Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeird. O.o Thoughts;; Meh. It could be better. I’m in a weirdly mood. XP[/size]
|
|
|
Post by renea on May 26, 2009 12:41:05 GMT -5
Tasalae held the young girl close, her eyes were a beautiful blue and her hair was a golden brown color. Tasalae said a few words to keep the young girl safe and then looked up as she watched what happened between the other two elves. Tasalae had a good heart for children, so she watched and kept the girl from seeing everything that went on. She looked down into the girl's blue eyes and smiled at her before she pulled her up as she stood and watched as the elf, which she recognized as the dragon rider, Kyemen, now she backed up against the cage wall and watched as the people flooded out, along with the other elf fall to the ground. Tasalae pulled her sword from it's sheath and headed out into the crowd, holding the girl close to her and keeping her safe in her arms. She let her energy channel into the girl and then fought with the town's people. She watched as people dropped dead, but she was concerned about the girl, who was growing tired, as was Tasalae. She turned and ran towards the allies, slashing a soldier on her way. She had to get away from the people before death took over the young girl.
She ran, moving fast and soon taking a street that lead to a inn, which was empty. She went inside, placing the girl down and kneeling down to look at the young girl. She could hear something outside, but she had to keep the girl alive, her heart was telling her to keep her alive. She pushed her hair from her face and tried to figure the age of the young girl. She figured the girl was no more then seven years old, but she figured she would ask. As she looked at the girl, she saw fear in her eyes, tears rolling down her face, and her body was shaking.
"Child, how old are you?" The girl held up seven fingers and she nodded gently to the girl, happy she was able to get the girl to communicate with her. The young girl was scared, that was easy to see and Tasalae was going to protect her like her own. As she was about to leave the house she heard a loud roar and held the girl to her side, pulling her cloak to her side. She saw someone come in, quickly seeing it was the male elf that had started the assassination. She looked up and knew that had to be the dragon, it was easy to see since she had seen the dragon before and knew the other elf was a dragon rider. She let out a sigh and held the girl close to her before she sent mental waves to the dragon, hoping the dragon would let her enter. She was gentle, she did not want to scare the dragon, but she wanted to tell the dragon she was a fellow elf and had a child she was trying to save. "Please let me pass, I have a child, please let me pass." She repeated it, gentle holding her mental waves against the dragon's own mental mind, she was not going to let up until she got through to the dragon.
|
|