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| Abductions and Lies; 1st RRDC, 3rd RRD | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 3 2008, 03:56 PM (3,423 Views) | |
| Necromancer Sargoth | Nov 24 2008, 12:00 AM Post #51 |
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Affably Evil
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Despite being billed as “the finest town in Arcadia,” Melissa’s heart sank when she learned she would be detained for another two weeks. She did not want to see Fransmille, she wanted to be back in Tartas, safe and sound, sequestered away in Vander Rock. She yearned to be back there so strongly, she could practically smell the old stone corridors and hear the echoes of voices in the Great Hall. Still, the viscount could not be blamed for this… tragic turn of events. She smiled kindly as he expressed joy over her recovery. The man seemed to be from fine stock, even if he were just a viscount from some rural hamlet. Melissa felt a pang of regret that this was how she should have met him, and wished she could have enjoyed the time spent on theOrder. She promised herself to write to him after this bitter affair finishes to invite him to stay at Vander Rock for a day or two at his convenience, of course. It was the least she could do after he rescued her and the others; besides, she would glad to look upon him again… in better circumstances, of course. As Melissa debarked the Order, she took in the full view of the village. She had to admit, it was a quaint little place. Still, the smell of fish around the docks was overpowering. The noblewoman used all of her will to resist holding her nose or wrinkling it in distaste. Such a slight would be too unkind. The wind came in strong from the north sky, and Melissa crossed her arms to keep from shivering. The brisk gale did carry some of the fishy odor away, however. For that, she was glad. Fransmille was certainly a small town, but respectable nonetheless. It was in far better condition than Tartas, the ruined city of House Vander. This point made Melissa feel slightly ashamed, but she reminded herself that this would not be the case forever. In a year, just one year... then they’ll see. The place had a charming older style of architecture that pleased Lady Vander’s eye, but the only thing that truly dazzled her was the old gothic estate house perched commandingly over the whole town. Even from the docks, Melissa could appreciate the detail of the building and noted happily that workers seemed to be restoring it. She wondered who lived there… Madison? Had he mentioned where he lived? She chastised herself for forgetting so soon. Melissa was shaken from her survey and musings by the introduction of the mayor, a man by the name of Finson. While the noble Madison presented him in a complimentary manner, Melissa was unnerved by the man. He had a rough edge to be sure, but something else bothered her, something she just could not suss out at the moment. He was very apologetic about the attack, and when he turned towards her a shiver went down her spine. She wondered why her felt the need to say sorry to her; it was not his fault after all. Maybe he just felt responsible, this being his town's region. Yes, Melissa decided that was the case; she made a note to be nice to the man, who clearly attempted to be as civil as possible. Besides, kindness never cost anyone. The viscount left the group in Finson's care, which Melissa understood, but regretted. She took one long glace at the captain as he departed, watching him as he walked away, hoping she would get to see him again. Charm like that came rarely these days; a charm that Finson surely lacked. Despite Madison's assurances, she did not feel at ease in the mayor's care. They were led through the Fransmille by the mayor, who seemed to struggle keeping his speech presentable. Melissa tried not to judge harshly; he tried so hard to be civil. Still, she felt like the mayor resented their being in town. The townspeople seemed friendly enough though. Well, at first they did; they seemed to rethink that once the mayor shot a glare at them though, which seemed most curious to Melissa. The town did not reek of fish the further they traveled from the docks, and the architecture became more pleasing to the eye and less utilitarian, although it was nothing like the stylized edifices in Valua, new or old. After a short walk, Finson pointed out the inn, which stood a short ways off in the distance. They were informed there were six rooms, which was a convenience and rather fortuitous. Melissa figured that Fransmille must not get many travelers; the town was awfully off the beaten path anyway. Still, just by looking at the place Melissa was sure she did not want to stay there. It was nice enough for the locals and merchants, but no place for a noblewoman of her stature. Her eyes trailed off to that estate house again… maybe they could spare a room. No, she told herself, that would be too much luck. Besides, she did not even know who resided there. Still, on a normal day there were many families that would be honored to have a member of House Vander under their roofs, and she could definitely return the favor. Unfortunately this was not a normal day; Melissa did not even look herself. Clad in a man's coveralls, she hardly looked noble. By the Moons, what if they took her for a common beggar! Her mind recoiled at the thought. Melissa continued to think on the matter and decided to, at the very least, find out who resided in the house. Perhaps they had means of sending out letters and she could send word to Vander Rock, which Melissa was sure was only a few hours to the south of Fransmille as the jynnus flies. Yes, she simply must call on the family there. That was decided. The mayor left the group of former prisoners to their own devices, although he seemed to suggest they head immediately to the inn to retire. Melissa could not sleep even if she wanted to; it was so bright outside! The cloud cover over Fransmille was clearly lesser than the rest of the Valuan Empire. The town was emerged in twilight rather than the perpetual midnight of the interior highlands. The lamp posts dotted around the village did not even seem necessary to Melissa, who had grown used to much darker atmospheres her entire life. Really, the lighter clouds gave the whole place an ethereal feeling. Melissa was regarding the mood of the town when Eleanor interrupted her train of thought. She invited Melissa to explore the town with her, which was a comfort. If Melissa wanted to spend time with anyone of the group, it was Eleanor Sadlanar. In actuality, she longed for the young viscount to return, but Eleanor seemed kind and intelligent. The others... they seemed... lesser. Lady Vander shot a sidelong glance at Geraldine and inwardly cringed; yes, Eleanor would be fine company. “Ah, I was just thinking of doing the same! Actually, I am rather interested in that estate house above town; I am a bit of a lover of the gothic style and would love to get a closer view of the detail." She paused and regarded the house again. "Besides, I am a bit of a snoop and want to know whom resides within," she added with a wink." Melissa began to trail after Eleanor, hopefully up towards the gothic manor. She was completely unprepared for what came next. "You know, that has been bothering me, Eleanor," Melissa said, biting her lip as she scrutinized the very fresh memory of Finson's appearance. "If I did not know any better, I would say he bares a remarkable resemblance to that filthy pirate captain. Such ideas though... mere fancy. He is a friend of the noble captain, mayor of this town!" The two walked together in silence for a time before Melissa added one last thing. "Still... the resemblance is uncanny. Say, let us see if that house up there can send letters. Some of these small towns have carrier birds still and I would feel much more at ease if I sent word to Vander Rock, it's not far off to the south. Better yet, maybe we can convince the residents to let two noble ladies stay there. Much better looking than that old inn, yes?" Edited by Necromancer Sargoth, Nov 24 2008, 05:16 AM.
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| Ranger | Nov 24 2008, 06:06 PM Post #52 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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I don't see anything that I really need to reply to. Remember this is your time to explore, or do whatever. So anything you can reach, or anything you do that you think is in character, and possible, is likely alright. Nice postage so far! Colaya receives a strike for not posting on time. SummerRayn receives a strike for not posting on time. Nex Terren 2/3 Tuesday, 11-25-08 PG 17 1/3 Wednesday, 11-26-08 Colaya 1/3 Thursday, 11-27-08 SummerRayn 1/3 Friday, 11-28-08 Gordreg 0/3 Saturday, 11-29-08 Necromancer Sargoth 1/3 Sunday, 11-30-08 Dungeon Master Null/Null Monday, 12-01-08 ????? ?/3 Tuesday, 12-02-08 ????? ?/3 Wednesday, 12-03-08 ????? ?/3 Thursday, 12-04-08 |
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| Ranger | Nov 26 2008, 05:41 AM Post #53 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Henry watched the two women walk off. He simply stood there, watching, as if questioning why the little group was splitting up. Henry blinked, once, twice, and then bobbed his head contentedly. “Well... there they go...” He turned towards the young sailor and navigator. His eyes jerked up and down them for a moment, uncertainty flashing across his face, and then he beamed. “So, what do you guys want to do?” Wetting lips, he turned his gaze back and forth between the two. “We could always check out that inn—I don't feel tired myself but...” Doubt was cast in Colaya's direction, and he began only to address Ger. “But we could at least look. Don't you think? Would that be a good idea, do you think?” Without another word, he began to wander off towards the Inn. A few villagers nodded towards him as he passed by, but Henry paid them no mind. Into the grassy path his thoughts went, and he found himself wondering how many people were in the village. “My name is Henry,” He mumbled absent-mindedly to himself. “My name is Henry, and I'm looking for my ships...” Henry's steps stopped abruptly, and he looked up at the inn. White panels with crisp wooden beams crisscrossing as support formed walls, with flower troughs under simple windows, and a clean new thatched roof. It couldn't be old—Henry could determine that much—but even in its youth, good upkeep was clear. The door was quite massive, compared to the size of the building, giving it a feeling of a fortress gate. Unlike such a gate, however, a small bell could be seen mounted at the top of the door. Henry opened the door. “Why HELLO there!” The robust, female voice thundered forward. “Why don't you make yourselves all comfortable-like, and get off your feet! I didn't know that we had any trading ships in, you understand, else I woulda have the rooms ready! Well, I got six, so there should be plenty enough if there are no more than you three..” Henry had been looking around the pub-like common room of the inn with a great deal of alarm, doing his best to find the owner of the voice. A few men were scattered around the room, one clearly drunk, another the mechanical armed recluse, and only one woman was to be found. However, there was no way the mighty, boisterous holler could belong to that woman; a tiny girl—perhaps late twenties—she didn't come up to Henry's chest, and the man guessed that it'd take a dozen of her to match Mikeil in weight. Her dress was cleaned and ironed, and with it was a matching head-scarf and apron. Even her hands lay folded together, which only stood as a small example to her quiet form. No, it couldn't possibly be... “You're the one talking!?” Henry exclaimed. This was the first time he had shouted since awaking. The woman blinked, surprise clear on her face. It didn't last long, however. “Why yes, who did you think it was? Old John drunk over in the corner? Well don't you be a silly man...” |
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| PG 17 | Nov 27 2008, 05:58 AM Post #54 |
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Uber Monk
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Mikeil lifted his head, and once again looked around the inn. A few more people had dribbled in, but it was still mostly empty. Mikeil decided that now would be a good time to check out his current living conditions. He moved off from the table, and went look for the manager. However, before he could find her, or him, a man stepped through the doorway. It was that professor, with…the ships? Henry, Mikeil thought. A smaller, petite women approached him, and said, Why HELLO there! Why don't you make yourselves all comfortable-like, and get off your feet! I didn't know that we had any trading ships in, you understand, else I woulda have the rooms ready! Well, I got six, so there should be plenty enough if there are no more than you three…” They conversed for a second after, then Mikeil stepped in. “Excuse me, ma’am. I am with the Professor, here. Yes, I suppose we would like rooms. I am afraid we don’t have money to pay you…” “Oh that’s quite all right! You’re a friend of the Viscount, he would want you seen up nice and proper now.” Mikeil gave a small sigh of relief, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Come along! I’ll make sure you are nice and tucked in, aye.” The matron moved along, and Mikeil followed along after. She made her way to the back of the room, and to a flight of stairs. They climbing about thirty, to Mikeil’s estimate, before reaching the second level. A short hall stretched out, three doors on both side. She opened the closet one on the left, and held it open for Mikeil. Mikeil stepped through, and gazed around. Fairly simple, a bed, table, sink. “Here you be, young man!” “Young?” Mikeil retorted. “Oh, psh. Don’t mind me. I think you will find things to be in order, if you need anything, just give me a shout. Ta!” With that, she shut the door, leaving Mikeil to himself. Mikeil sat on the bed, glad that he had managed to secure a nice resting place. |
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| Simon | Nov 27 2008, 06:05 AM Post #55 |
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Blast From the Past!
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Golly, PG, that's a kinda short post. |
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| SummerRayn | Nov 29 2008, 05:15 AM Post #56 |
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A.k.a. "Sol"
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“So, what do you guys want to do?” Henry was saying, his smile broad and friendly, if a little timid. “We could always check out that inn—I don't feel tired myself but... but we could at least look. Don't you think? Would that be a good idea, do you think?” Geraldine beamed right back at him. “That sounds like a right grand idea, my good sir!” she blared in a congratulatory tone, as though he had just proposed something truly remarkable. “Grand indeed! I need to hunt down a shop where I can replace this smoke when it burns out, but might as well have them gettin' our beds ready, huh?” She followed Henry to the inn, patting absentmindedly at the place on her belt where her cigar pouch had hung before this whole (admittedly highly interesting) misadventure had started. She missed it almost more than the weight of her pistol at her right hip or that of the field binoculars around her neck. “I don’t think I mentioned,” she said, sucking on her cigar and blowing the smoke out into the dusk. “My name’s Geraldine. Geraldine Blitz. But feel free to call me Gerrie! Or Dina, I go by that, too. And I had a captain that called me Peaches. On account of my smokes, see,” she rambled pleasantly. “I favor a peach-flavored blend my cigar merchant mixes up for me ’specially.” She looked unhappily at the stub in her hand. “Once you’ve had a fine gourmet cigar like that, nothing else quite shapes up. But I suppose I’ll have to make do at least until we can get ourselves outta here.” “Why HELLO there! Why don't you make yourselves all comfortable-like, and get off your feet! I didn't know that we had any trading ships in, you understand, else I woulda have the rooms ready! Well, I got six, so there should be plenty enough if there are no more than you three…” Geraldine laughed heartily at Henry’s shock, and then stepped forward to address the woman herself. “Do you know where a lady can buy some cigars around here?” |
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| Gordreg | Nov 29 2008, 11:45 PM Post #57 |
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Administrator
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As Melissa unburdened herself of bothers about the Mayor, Eleanor felt her stomach tighten. So... her thoughts could not be dismissed as some mere trick of an overcautious mind, then. Not if Melissa could also see a resemblance... and at that, a resemblance that she herself had only implied to the noble born lady. For a moment she had almost hoped that the Lady Vander would dispel her suspicions, for it meant she could have continued to be truly grateful to a man both handsome and most generous in nature. But if both Melissa and herself had come to the same conclusion, and independently of one another at that… what did that mean of this man ‘Finson’, to whom Captain Madison had stated a past friendship? Moons, what did this even mean for Captain Madison himself? She ruminated silently on this thought as they continued to walk along the zigzag path upward, the tall buildings on one side of the road becoming the short roof-stacks on the other with each corner of the road rounded. Had Captain Madison even seen the leader of the pirates, or had the rouge managed to slip away from justice entirely before any Valuan could see his face? Oh, if only she could remember for certain! It would spare her chivalrous memory of Captain Madison, and that memory was worth a lot right now… Breaking from her internal rumination as Melissa spoke once more, Eleanor tilted her head very slightly so as to listen better. It did sound a good plan… though it would be mindful to check first just who resided there. Melissa had mentioned wanting to know just who lived there; Eleanor thought that doubly important now that her wariness of Finson had grown by degrees. A house like that might belong to some minor noble or to some wealthy merchant family, but what if the building were some mayoral mansion? The last thing she wanted was to ask to stay anywhere suggested or owned by ‘Finson’ right now. “Yes. At least the decision to come up here was ours, and not suggested to us by anybody.” Eleanor nodded in agreement, her face expressing a slight nervousness. “Whoever Mayor Finson might have been in childhood, I…” she paused, and took a deep breath of the cool air. “…I still find myself wary about what he might have become as an Adult.” She exhaled. “Best to let the world know that we are here, if such a thing is entirely possible...” And Eleanor glanced up toward the mansion house again, now only a half-length of the winding street away from them. Close enough so that the builders on the outside now appeared clearly as men, busying themselves with repairs. She could hear them talking to one another, loud voices ringing out with instructions over the noise of thumping hammers. Eleanor raised her hand quickly upward, and waved vigorously to try and attract some attention. “Hello up there!” she called out, smiling and forcing a gentle joviality back into the pattern of her speech. “Melissa and I were just admiring this grand old house. I hope you fine upstanding gentlemen don’t mind our asking who it belongs to?” |
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| Ranger | Nov 30 2008, 09:38 PM Post #58 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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One of the men rubbed absent mindedly at his red mustache, before brightening up with a friendly smile and generous wave. He looked perhaps old enough to be Eleanor's father, if not grandfather, though certainly one wouldn't expect the two to be from the same household; he was simply dressed, with dark cap and vest. With both strength of arms and weight of his beer-belly contributing to his size, he looked well capable of hard labor. The man was honest looking as a man could be, though, and had a well meaning air about him. This appearance shifted, however, when the woman asked about the house. "Ah, well, hello there--" He shouted, seeming almost a bit worried, eyes dancing unconsciously towards the house. "Melissa, you said her name was?--and who might you be? If you said, I'm sorry; hearing's not what it used to be. Clocked' in the head one too many times." He winked at the two women, friendly nature briefly returning in full. "As to the house--ah--yes..." His gaze shifted anxiously, "Me and ol' Jameson ova' there--Tucker's my name, by the way--are working on it. Got really nick'd up from the Rains, and the Lady... ah... I mean, er..." He glanced towards the direction of the open doorway, as if expecting a viper to come out, and eat him alive. "...Pardon me, but there's just so much to do--Ah--see you around!" The man was quick to hurry off. |
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| Necromancer Sargoth | Dec 1 2008, 01:05 AM Post #59 |
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Affably Evil
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Melissa watched dumbfounded as the man named Tucker ran off, leaving Eleanor and her in no better condition than when they arrived. They still did not know to whom the manor belonged, and Melissa now had an uneasiness building in her stomach, like someone had placed a stone there. Fransmille seemed cheery enough on the surface, but try to dive a little deeper and the friendly façade evaporated into one of apprehension and vague hostility. “Wait! Mr. Tucker, you did not answer Eleanor’s question!” the noblewoman shouted after him in vain. Tucker did not look back and his compatriot made no sign of even hearing her. She scowled out of frustration and anxiety. “This situation has put me ill at ease, Eleanor” said Melissa, as she turned to face her noble companion. “First the mayor and now this… it is unsettling. Did you see the look in that man’s eyes? He surely knows something that we are not meant to. Someone has told these men to be silent; someone important enough to intimidate those two men.” Melissa surveyed the front of the house and the grounds from where she stood. The manor was certainly a beautiful example of North Valuan Gothic, a much more austere style than the central and eastern varieties. Simple stone arches and tall conical turrets were the most remarkable features. Much of the decorative masonry had been damaged and the construction crew seemed centered on repairing that; although, now that she was up close, Melissa noticed a large hole in the roof facing the west. The grounds seemed in well order with winding stone paths leading around to the back of the house, benches, a small pond, and statuary in various states of repair. Not far from the two noblewomen was the main entryway; the door was wide open. “Huh, would you look at that,” remarked Melissa, gesturing to the open portal. “They left the door wide open. That technically would amount to an open invitation to enter, if you really think about it.” She gave Eleanor a sly look. “I know that if I did not wish someone to enter my home, I would close the door… what do you say? Shall we?” Melissa did not wait for Eleanor’s response, but set out for the entrance in a quick stride. Before long, and before anyone could protest or convince her otherwise, Melissa Vander was standing in the foyer of the estate house. She ventured in a little further, stopping a good ten feet in. She cupped her hands to her mouth. “Hello?” she called, voice travelling down the halls of the house easily. “Is the master of the house in?” |
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| Ranger | Dec 3 2008, 04:03 AM Post #60 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Henry sat down at one of the tables, looking about him. It was a cozy place—despite being large enough to supply the needs of the entire town at once, if it had to. White walls framed in wooden beams held a collection of items, from unlit lanterns of functional make, to large quilts that spilled colors into the room, covered in simple representation of children and village landscapes, to even cast iron skillets and similar simple art hanging up. Henry found it amusing, the choice of decorations, but even more so he found it... comforting. Why hadn't the moons led him to this quiet town earlier, he wasn't sure, but he thought he could spend the rest of his days here. “What's the matter, child?” The small woman laughed, voice loud enough for two men. Loud, but kind.. Truly kind. Henry could hear that in her voice. “You don't need to scowl so hard at my quilts.” “Scowling?” Henry questioned, expression deepening on his face. He tried to straighten out the expression. This only manged in making the woman laugh again. She slapped him on the back, and told him to wait for a moment. Wait for what, Henry didn't know. He didn't mind waiting, though. Not here. “I lost my ships.” He adressed the woodgrain of the table before them. “And I don't know where to find them. Had them... just yesterday... think it was yesterday. Did. I... I did. Have them.” In front of his nose, a large mug of something, and a plate heaped with a collection of items, from mashed potatoes, to green peas, to cooked carrots. Henry was shocked to find the meal before him, but he dared not turn down the hospitality and offend this kind woman. And then his stomach fell out as he realized that he was scowling at the drink. “Not a drinker of iloqua, are we? Ha! I wish my husband Tucker would learn a thing or two from you! Let me fetch you something more wholesome. You like milk? Let me get you some milk.” Henry nodded, and stared down at his food. Hesitantly, he picked up the fork, and began to stab at the peas with it. Every time his fork came up clean, causing Henry to look annoyed, and begin attacking it with more energy. “Heeere you go. Fresh milk from our own cows.” She sat the frosty mug down, filled to the brim with a thick, creamy substance. “Now, if you just need anything, you just holler, hear?” She slapped him on the back, and wandered off. Henry couldn't help but sigh, attacking the peas once again with his fork. “I'm certain they must be somewhere...” |
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2:37 PM Jul 11