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| Bathed by another man | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 8 2008, 08:55 PM (194 Views) | |
| Abnormal-Child | Dec 8 2008, 08:55 PM Post #1 |
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He awoke with blurry vision, a throbbing head and the feeling of drunkenness and grogginess like his body just been trampled earlier that night was very fresh in him. With a great effort he brushed the sleep away from the corners of his eyes and flexed his jaw as he let out a short yarn which was cut short as he jolted back from a shot of pain running though the left side mouth. A broke tooth? With some discomfort and tugging, a small splash broke the silence as his loose tooth dropped into the warm water about him, leaving a bloody streak in the bath water. It took him a moment to realise he was naked! Bathing in what looked to be some very grubby water, littered with dead flies and the side of his face bared some minor swelling. What the hell was going on! He shifted his weight in a effort to rise but was brought down with a shunt. He thrashed for a moment, in his effort to get free but was quickly restrained by a pair of meaty fists which rapped themselves around both of his wrists and kept him from moving. The raw power in those hands left his hands trembling, the voice following was just as unsettling. “Be still little man!”, the grip loosened but Sam did not dare turn his head toward his company. In a effort to better understand his surroundings, Sam inspected the light brown wooden walls of the room he was in. Moving his gaze around he found the room held some deal of weapons, chains and what looked to be stacked logs with a few stacks of clothing. The room was rather small in fact, windowless to but lit by a single small lamp hanging from the ceiling. The ring of metal could be heard as a short handled blade moved into the grips of his company who he was still unaware of who this threatening fellow might be but the sickness and fear in his stomach was paralyzing him. The next hour was very comfortable. Again and again, the blade rolled over his scalp and jaw, cutting away a great deal of hair he was unaware he had. During this time the man went into detail, laughing about the night before where Sam was meant to have taken a few blows from the caravan leading for giving to much lips and running his mouth when he was drunk. Not wanting to upset the blade wielding man, Sam reframed from breathing a word. Once all the shaving was done, a familiar pain arose. His now shaven face and head, a long with a lot of his body was being splashed with what seemed to be some kind of perfume. luckily, the large fellow had given him a towel to cover his shame while this action happened. Was this guy gunna rape him or something but just as the though struck his mind he was thrown some thick cotton trousers and a long white hooded robe. The clothing was plain if anything but it did seem to be of good quality but the clothing neither explained anything more or offered any more protection from the huge fellow before him. If there was a man bigger or meaner looking he wouldn’t have believed it. With a slap, the fellow pushed the door open and pushed Sam out of the double doors into the blinding light. With a roll, his shoulder struck the ground, hitting some grass and luckily missing the cobble street beside. For a time the sights before him and the sound about him left him speechless. It appeared that he’d been stuck in a small caravan with the massive fellow who was currently pouring the dirt water into an open sewer to one side of the horrific looking street. His location from what he could work out was a city, but everything seemed…well like something from a fantasy book. Men in armour here, commoners there, swords left, right and centre. Before he knew it, a blade was being pressed into his palm by a short fellow with a mighty beard. “Go on chap, go about your business. Caravan master giving you the day off. Return by night fall or we’re going with out yah”. The blade felt heavy in his hand but felt right. The handle was long, around 6 inches while the blade was only around 3 inches. The shape was unlike anything he’d seen before but he appeared to be more for blunt strikes than anything else, maybe the blade was a back up. Doing as the man said, he stubbed off, watching not to knock his bare feet against the coble ground. Unaware of what had happened, Sam had shifted from Earth to some other unknown world and he was currently in the body of a rather skinny looking trader. In truth his host had been on the road for a good 3 months and that was his first bath and hair cut since. Him and all the other traders underwent that treatment everything they came in contact with a trade deal seeing as a clean appearances and a fine smell was meant to help with the selling of produdes. |
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| Red | Dec 8 2008, 09:23 PM Post #2 |
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“And what would you have me do? Drive this gods-forsaken-thing myself?” He leaned back and hung his arm loosely across the back of his seat within the carriage. “Impossible. For a bound servant, you complain too much. I order you to complain less.” The obnoxious passenger’s order was replied with a hollow grunt and an almost sarcastic, “Yes, my master. As you wish.” It was, of course, a peculiar looking cart. For starters, the driver could not be seen. There was a thick curtain of black fabric pulled around the driver’s seat with a split in the center just big enough to see out of. Four horses pulled it, all assorted grays in color, making it seem as if the entire ensemble were pulled from a picture in the newspaper. The only hint of its reality were the colors the environment played on the backs of the horses and the curves of the carriage. With a harsh bump, the carriage came to a halt. The yet unnamed passenger shot up and slithered through the hole in the wall between him and the driver’s seat, and his driver. “Did we hit something?” The creature acting as driver nodded affirmatively. “Excellent! Let’s grab it and take it with us! Perhaps I have a new pet!” he exclaimed, showing as much excitement as a teeny-bopping fan girl at a boy band concert as he stepped away from the shelter of his ride. At last, and for the first time in days, the light of the sun touched Andromalius’s ghost white skin, making it even more blindingly pale than usual. His robes followed after him. As he bent down to inspect the lump of lifeless mass beneath the wheel, he gave a sigh of discontent. It was only a dog. “How unfortunate,” he folded his arms across his chest and leaned the weight of his body onto the other foot. A passerby noted his discontent, glanced at the ball of fur below, and sympathetically patted the mage’s shoulder, assuming that he was saddened by the dog’s death, which wasn’t quite right. “Charlie!” he called out to his driver. “It’s only a dog!” A black, demonic head peaked out from behind the curtain, presumably the head of Charlie the Driver, “Worry not, my master. We will be at our destination soon and you will have your playthings to cheer you up.” Andromalius frowned and drooped, gazing up at the painfully bright sky in all of its wretchedness. “While you are correct, my pet, I think I need something a bit more immediate. I’m going to mingle with the common folk. You can have your wish and retire for the day.” “Thank you, Sire.” The creature vanished, unraveling into black smoke and seeping back into the shadows of the carriage. The mage had become oblivious to what kind of commotion he caused these days. He didn’t quite realize how odd of a scene he had just made in the middle of the street, and was blind as to who had been watching, but he feebly attempted to lift his spirits by grabbed the closest person, yanking them forward, and wrapping his skinny arm around that person’s neck, only to comment, “I’m mingling now.” |
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| Abnormal-Child | Dec 8 2008, 09:57 PM Post #3 |
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Sam treaded more carefully than before as he moved further and further into the street, less to avoid hurting his feet but more to void the pleasant lumps of horse shit which littered the place. During this little trek, his heart hadn’t stopped races. This whole experiences was most peculiar. He was currently unaware of his actions, he was gripping the handle of the blade painfully tight. His odd behaviour was drawing some attention to him as people moved out of his way, hoping to avoid the mans blade tip seeing as he was rather hard to read with that confused look on his face. The sound of a yelp and the crack of something breaking was somewhat off putting. His grip loosened as his eyes fell upon the head of fur now nestled under a wheel. A dog from what he could work out, he was unaware if it’s owners was in the local area but the figure who was beside the mess was rather peculiar. Was that, was it a Albino? He most certainly bared the skin colour and the long white hair but those eyes. He could even make them out from here, a good 8 feet away. How dark were those eyes and his clothing, like something from a fairytale, what kind of person waltz’s around in that get up these days. He glanced over his own appearances for a moment, blushing at his own stupidity. He felt himself staring and had to look away and back at his surroundings and missed the site of the carriage driver luckily. The site of the thing would have confused matter so much more. In a effort to look a little more natural, he fumbled with the waist of his robe and slipped the blade away. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to use it. Glancing up, he found himself face to face with the Albino as he swept his arms around him. He luckily flung his head back in time seeing as his lips had almost struck the other gents ins his moment of shock. This guy was very strange. Perhaps he was ill. Yes that’s right, this is perfectly normal, just thing like the Europeans. And hug him back. “Oh hello there”, he replied, trying to shift his lips into a smile. For some reason the facial expression almost seemed alien to him. His skins didn’t feel right on him. In truth, a small scar can up his upper lips which made the right side of his mouth rise a little high than the left when grinning but all in all he looked a friendly chap if you could over look the swollen cheek. “Have we met by any chance?”, he asked in attempt to pry the man a little away from him as he grapsed the Albino’s shoulders and drew him back a little to get a better look at the man. He appeared talker than Sam a full 4 inches taller, so Sam guessed he was six foot one seeing as he was normally five food eight himself but now stood an inch smaller. |
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| Red | Dec 8 2008, 10:13 PM Post #4 |
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“It is quite possible we have, Friend,” he took a step back, all of his gestures supernaturally fluid and open. “I meet many souls, but I must admit that I do not recognize your face. Possibly in a previous life?” His mouth drew up into a foreboding grin. His eyes had even now begun to penetrate Sam’s exterior, diving down into his soul, attempting to virally infect it. “My name is Grand Master Andromalius the Wicked. Pleasure to meet you, Mister…?” as he introduced himself, his robes swirled in a flourishing bow, black taloned fingernails glinting in the sunlight. Sam would be able to consider his appearance much better now. He was a tall and lanky humanoid, clothed in rich ebony which was riddled with expensive silver designs. The robe virtually consumed him, showing nothing but wrists, hands, a long neck and the head on top of it. His hair was up in a half tail, all of which fell to a gratuitous length just past his waist. It was a red flag for his conceit, as it appeared to have been brushed so often that it was incapable of tangling now. He smelled of the old pages of ancient books and had no sign of the scent of a living creature’s musk. One might have the slight feeling that he wasn’t living. |
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| Abnormal-Child | Dec 8 2008, 10:37 PM Post #5 |
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As the man stepped back, Sam’s guts turned to water. Those eyes! Why were they so dark? The sick knotting feeling he often got in his stomach when meeting people he found threatening was replaced with a hollowness. A emptiness that felt like it could never been filled once more. His mouth grew dry as the man bared his smile and twisted in his clothing as he moved. His talons shifting with each movement of his fingers. The feel of the man….was very negative, while his smile and pale skin made him think he was over reacting. Wasn’t he just a kind fellow with a lack of pigment to his flesh? The hollowness unfortunately couldn’t be forgotten. This was turning out to be a most bizarre day. “Grand Master Andromalius the …Wicked…a pleasure to meet you”, he forced himself to throw out the last part with all his effort in order not to seem rude in his strange new place. Drawing his eyes from that glance gave him some strength once more but only enough to introduce himself with something of a smile. “My name is Sam Jones…”, the man had given a title, if a strange one at that, what else could he do but do the same back. “I’m a trader…”, in fact it was rather clear by the robe he was wearing. A northerner to be more precise. “Lovely weather we’re having”. Sam wished for this chat to end but he couldn’t seem to pull himself way from the man. When taking a second glance over the sky he found a storm was rolling in from the east, so no he appeared unobservant, wonderful. What could happen next to the unfortunate fellow. “So Master”, bad choice of works, now he was acting like a slave, ”What is it you do….I’m not from these parts you see”. His effort to look less the fool as he fiddled with his robes wasn’t much working but he would soon become accustom to this new roll for how ever long it might last. |
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| Red | Dec 8 2008, 10:50 PM Post #6 |
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“Grand Master,” he corrected the lad. “There is a large margin of difference. You must not be from around here to not know such a thing. How pitiful!” he chuckled. Sam Jones. He knew another Sam Jones in a different life, one which he currently shared with a boring little girl in a boring little world. Of course, countless people could share the same name, it is a common one, but wouldn’t it be just too positively amazing that the same Sam Jones had fallen into the same predicament as himself. Perhaps it would make that other realm less boring… Andromalius sighed, “Oh look at me, getting my hopes up! See, I know someone else by your name, but it’s fairly impossible you could be one in the same.” Of course, living as long as he had, he learned that the simplest way to acquire knowledge is to ask for it. “By any chance does Summer Hills ring any bells?” Once again his arm was found slung over Sam’s shoulders, gently nudging him forward to walk. He wanted to get out of the sun, inside somewhere dark and dank where spiders nest in the cracks on the walls. He was simply asking the lad to confirm his own suspicions. Unlikely as they were, he was not one to allow something to fester at the edge of his mind. |
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| Abnormal-Child | Dec 8 2008, 11:06 PM Post #7 |
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“My mistake, sorry”, he apologised, half heartedly by the mans mention of how pitiful he was. What a lovely thing to say. This old bastard was up his own ass this was for sure but that flicker of rage was smoother as he struck the man with a defiant eye. The hollowness recovered itself and gave birth to a hunger to be away from this man but before he could do anything the man arm was slipping around his shoulder and drawing him away. The mutter of Summer Hill had taken him a back, his breath was short in his chest. He couldn’t be that far from home. Possibly he struck his head and woke up in a medieval construction or something like that. That made more senses, well a part from the bathing and shave, that was far to real for his liking. Possibly this guy was just some dirty freak in makeup. Yeah that might explain this sick feeling in his stomach. “Yeah, umm I’m from there why do you know the place”, he asked in hope that the man might be able to give him some explanation of what has befallen. Then it hit him, a small smile began to roll over his lips as himself and his strange company retreated from the streets and drifted into a much cooler, danker areas. Here comes the cameras he thought to himself. Friends and family burst our laughing and he looked a fool. But they didn’t come did they. There was no one in site a part from the smell of a dank dark place with a man who stank like books. He was starting to get a feeling things really weren’t write any more. Who really was this man and why hadn’t be answered his question. Wicked he said. His hand began to slip to his waist and feel the top of his blades handles. It felt right against his palm, had some wear to it, he wondered if he could really use this thing if he had to. |
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| Red | Dec 8 2008, 11:20 PM Post #8 |
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“Oh! Really!?” he stopped and turned to fully face his conversational companion. There was no Summer Hills here in his domain. There was no doubt, and he was glad that he had whimsically asked. “HAHA! Sam Jones of Summer Hills, here before me with a slightly used body. Oh, you have no idea, my boy. You have no idea how giddy you have made this back of bones…” He motioned for Sam to go further inside. “You should have a seat. I’ll answer your questions, but I don’t think you should be standing when you hear them. I must say, you were quite lucky to run into possibly the only person in this world who has your answers.” They had walked into a virtually empty tavern. A bartender was behind the counter, resting his head on it, too bored to notice a pair of potential customers. The Black Mage took a seat at a table far away from the bar and its tender, weaving his fingers together to place his hands gently on the surface in front of him. “Sam Jones, what you must first understand and accept is that this is not a dream, a delusion, or a trick. What you have unwittingly done is crossed a dimensional portal into another existence. You may have noticed that this,” he pinched the cloth of Sam’s robe, “…is not yours. That face is not yours, and that sword sure as hell isn’t yours.” He cleared his throat and continued, “You have entered a world full of magic, kings, and blades. Call it the Sci-fi channel’s ultimate virtual tour of Dungeons and Dragons. Unfortunately, no, I don’t know how you can go back to your world. If I knew that, I think I would be a much more contented Banshee. Now how about a drink to go down with all of that information?” he smiled. “YOU!” a shrill shriek rang through the establishment, startling the bartender and taking his feet out from under him, consequently banging his head on the bar counter. Andromalius continued, “Bring this follow something that will take his mind off of absolutely anything.” The tender did not seem happy to serve the ghostly man. |
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| Abnormal-Child | Dec 10 2008, 04:45 PM Post #9 |
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“Camera’s perhaps”, he muttered to himself as the strange Albino rose into a fluster of joy. Somewhat unexpected but still, it seemed about the right time for him to explain what was going on and everyone to have a joke about it but he wasn’t….take a seat, why? This guy was really a bit of a odd ball but he did was he was told, not wanting to send the guy off on one. He seemed the type by this sudden shift in emotions but the offer for a explanation of what was going on what interesting. Would be helpful to have someone explain what the heck was going down here but why was he the only other person to understand what he was going through. Peculiar. This place was a bit of a dump to. What was with that smell and the condition of the furniture, stuff looked like it was on the verge of falling apart. Bar tender didn’t seem to impressed either, almost bored to death to be truthful. Wouldn’t want to be him. “I don’t fully understand. How am I meant to believe all this. I woke up only a few hours ago, sat in a tub of water, with a large manner who beyond my understand shaved my head and face, forced me to wear these clothes and threw me out into the street in some god forsake place. Hell someone shoved this blade into my hand and sent me on my way. Now I meet some Albino….did you say Banshee?”, Oddly enough it all started to sink in a little just then. The guy now that he thought about it was ghastly, but not because of his appearance but because of the aura he gave off and the manner in which he moved, almost floating. “I think a drink might be need in fact”, he muttered the last part, his hand draw over his mouth as he tried to one to grasps with the information being flung his way. Once the horrid looking bile arrived in a wooden cup, Sam knocked it back without though, almost vomiting from the taste but in fact the stuff was rather potent and burned his throat instantly. “How the hell do you know me any way!”, the thought popped into his mind and with out even noticing, as if his body was reacting on it’s own, the blade swept from his pocket and found itself staked into the table in front of his company. Huh…. |
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| Red | Dec 10 2008, 06:59 PM Post #10 |
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Albino? The mage grinned, attempting to display some reserved civility, but when the dagger hit the table, the grin faltered. Andromalius leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His empty eyes stared unenthusiastically at the vertical weapon. “…While your reaction is perfectly healthy, understand that you are out of your element and do not want to be provoking any strangers who could very well have the ability to kill you with their pinky finger.” He held his own left hand’s pinky finger up for a visual example before proceeding to lay but hands on the top of the table on either side of the dagger. The ‘albino’ leaned forward just a bit, enough to get a point across. “You do not want to see me lay my weapon on the table, Mister Sam Jones. Now kindly remove your dagger before I remove you and calm down.” Leaning back once more, he shifted uncomfortably in a hard seat. His ass was used to fluffy satin and was not taking the change too kindly. “But yes, Banshee. There are more than just Humans running around this place. You’ll come across more interesting ones than myself even. For instance, I wish I could be there to see the expression on your face when you come across an angry Ogre. But I digress,” Andromalius waved his hand in dismissal. “In this world, you will find that the common goal in everyone is simply survival. Much more interesting that ‘what’s for dinner’, no? Just try not to die, m’kay? It can be surprisingly easy.” “Now, while I won’t tell you how I know you - you must learn to accept this, and if you really want to know, you should try figuring out yourself - I will make you a proposition. Since you are such an obscurity, I give you the choice to either stay here, go back to the men you woke up with, and attempt to figure out how to go back or… Or I could give you a grand tour of the path between here and Ruangard.” The Black Mage held out both hands, palms up, as if he had a weight in each hand, balancing them up and down. “Would you truly like to just go back and flop around like a fish out of water? Or would you like to join me and make the most of this little adventure of yours while you can? As your people say ‘When in Rome’.” How in the world would Sam be able to tell if the mage had ulterior motives? The poor lad had undergone such a shock to the system, Andromalius was counting on it. |
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12:11 AM Jul 11