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| Abductions and Lies; 1st RRDC, 3rd RRD | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 3 2008, 03:56 PM (3,422 Views) | |
| PG 17 | Dec 4 2008, 04:09 AM Post #61 |
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Uber Monk
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Mikeil sat and thought for a few moments before taking his coat off. He dropped it at the foot of his bed, and laid down. He moved the sheets out from under him and positioned himself comfortably. It was at these times that he sank back into deeper memory, into a past he could no longer recall… Flashes of lightning streaked the sky as Mikeil made his way back home. He had just recently returned, and was trying to remember where his parents now lived. A loud peal of thunder roared, and suddenly rain began to fall. He drew his coat closer around him, and hurried on his way. Mikeil shivered and sat up in bed. Only a few minutes had passed according this his reckoning, so he laid back down. He shifted around, and stared at the ceiling. A patchwork of wooden boards and their features stood out to Mikeil. He followed one line of wood into another, tracing the pattern in mind. Slowly, his eyes closed, and another memory flooded into his mind. “Mikeil!” A strange man approached him, waving some papers. “You just got shore leave! It’s about a year’s worth…you can go home and see your family.” “Ah…thank you, Colonel.” Mikeil said, taking the papers. “It’s been a while…” “Quite right, and well deserved. There’s not much to do in this stinking jungle, but you toughed through. Well, go on, get packed.” The Colonel smiled, and walked off. Mikeil’s eyes shot open, but he did not get up this time. For some reason, he felt that event has been important to his current state. But already things were starting to slip…Mikeil sighed. He doubted he would ever remember what he was. He rolled over, and tried once again to sleep. The sky flashed, booming sounds pressing in on Mikeil’s consciousness. He stumbled as he raced down the hall. He recovered quickly, and wrenched the door to his parent’s house open. As he stepped out the ground lurched, throwing him to the ground. He picked himself, shaking his head from the blow. He looked up, to see the sky ablaze with shining stars shooting to earth. As they struck, explosions and noise surrounded Mikeil, throwing him off balance. He lurched back inside, making his way for the stairs located in the hall. He ran up them, looking for his parents. He took a right, heading his parent’s bedroom. As did, though, the house shook and exploded right in front of him. The entire section where his parents had been was gone. Mikeil put a hand to the wall, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. He heaved a great sigh, and in a daze, forcing his legs to move him back downstairs. However, as soon as he reached the last step, the house began to fall in around him. Several large boards fell across the entrance, blocking Mikeil in. He staggered back, tripping over the last step. He fell sideways heavily, rolling onto his back. Staring up, he saw a bit of the house fall, and he blacked out. Mikeil jerked up, throwing the sheets off and jumping out of bed. Not quite balanced, he landed heavily on the floor, but managed to stay upright. However, he sank to his knees and put his hands to his head. That had been the moment…when everything…had…it was gone. Like dust in the wind the memory faded. Mikeil desperately clawed at it, but it sank back into his mind. Only a whisper was left, the pure horror of it. Mikeil breathed heavily, and crawled back into his bed. All the movement and stress of the last hour had drained him, and he fell asleep quickly. |
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| Colaya | Dec 5 2008, 05:51 AM Post #62 |
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<__<
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When Colaya exited the ship, he really didn’t pay much attention to anyone else. Not even his own curiosity about the town or the peculiar mayor could snap him out of his “zoned-out” expression. He remained quiet the entire time, still not wanting to draw attention to himself after the looper dinner incident. Colaya wouldn’t even think to himself at this point. He would just stare off to the distance, past everything, through everything, at something that wasn’t even there. He just wanted to be alone right now; not necessarily from his embarrassment, but he simply just felt like it right now. Colaya always loved having company, but he also was used to being alone. Not that being alone is bad either; in fact, throughout his childhood, he chose to be alone many times when he could have been with friends. He just enjoyed the calmness and focus that solitude could bring to one’s mind. Colaya started walking down the road after the mayor had finished talking. He didn’t really listen to what the mayor said, but he did hear him. Wait… He did say the inn was down this road, right? He tried to think back, but couldn’t remember. He didn’t really want to ask one of the others that were with him at the time either, mostly because he would seem foolish for asking a question that had already been answered just a few minutes ago. He decided that the town wasn’t too big, and the inn was probably close by, so he could try to find the inn himself. He ignored the others, and began to walk faster down the road so he could get away from them. Colaya noticed a building up ahead that was separate from the others, so he thought that he should try there first. When he made it to the building, he was surprised to find that it was the place he was looking for. Maybe I did actually hear what that man said… Oh well… Colaya entered the inn and before he could make it to the front desk, a woman stopped him. ”Oh hey! You must be one of the guests! I’ve been expecting you!” The woman gave Colaya a small key with a number etched onto it. ”Your room is upstairs, just look for the one that has that number on it. Colaya walked away from her and went up the stairs. Halfway up, he started to feel bad for not thanking her for helping him. Oh well… I’ll do it later… Colaya put his gratitude off for the next time he would see her, and continued to his room. When he finally reached the door to his room, he put the key into the hole and tried to turn it. However, it wouldn’t open until he jiggled the key inside a little bit before the door actually opened. After he entered the room, he quickly shut the door behind him and locked it. Colaya moved over to his bed, and after he sat down on it, he realized just how exhausted he really felt. He took off the uniform and hung it over a desk that was in the corner of the room. He was about to go back to his bed, but a wave of paranoia started to wash over him. This wasn’t an unusual thing to happen to him, especially since he still had that bad feeling in the back of his head for all these hours. He went back to the door to make sure it was locked, then went over to the only window in the room and locked it as well. He opened the closet that was propped against the wall, and then went to check under his bed. He even patted the boards down to make sure there weren’t any trap door or secret passages in the room. By the time he had finished, even he was starting to think that he was just some foolish child. Colaya started to go back to his bed, but then realized that if there was another key to the front door, anyone could come right in! He took the chair from the desk, and then placed it under the door handle, so it would provide at least some sort of preventative measure if someone tried to enter the room. When he had finally finished for good, he went back to his bed and fell down onto it. He had NO idea why he just did any of that. Geez Colaya… Stop being so paranoid, no one is out to get you… Colaya reprimanded himself in his head once more, before finally rolling over to turn off the light. He pulled the covers over him, snuggled his head against the pillows, and then quickly fell to sleep, free from his own paranoia to haunt him any longer. |
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| Ranger | Dec 6 2008, 04:31 PM Post #63 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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“Hello?” the voice danced down the hallway, echoes filling the far corners of the house. “Is the master of the house in?” A man, dressed in servant's clothes appeared in short order. Short, and widely built by ancestry, but handsomely refined by choice. Though mostly bald on top, his hair had yet to gray, and his thin, neatly trimmed mustache was full, and thick. His clothes were outdated, but non in a manner out of style, but rather in a 'classical' manner; his black and white garments were the traditional, if not oft used any longer, uniform of a butler. Matching this clothing in every aspect was his manner; dated, yet perfectly appropriate and serviceable. “Madam,” He said, leaning slightly. It was unclear if this was meant for a bow or not in the vague and subtle manner he performed it. “The front door was left open for a breeze, and I'd ask kindly for you to...” “It's quite alright, Jeeves.” A woman's voice, commanding in a queenly manner. The hint of ice in that voice could be heard, but the nature of it said that she spoke that way do to familiarity; that was he spoke, simply. It did not mean she was particularly angry at the moment. “You two, would you please come in here.” “Yes, mistress.” The butler bowed, and then strode quickly away. From where the voice had come from was a dark room, to both women's lefts. A fireplace crackled lightly--if the flame was any dimmer it would be but embers—casting a soft glow on the walls around it. Walls made of books—near, and not very long. A study, clearly, for there was visible a writing desk, with glass bottle of ink in the fire-glow. The least visible in the room, as it happened, was the most important. Sitting in front of the fireplace—back turned—was a high backed chair, and in that chair the ember outline of a woman could be seen. Anything in detail about the woman was impossible to tell, however a few less important things could be surmised. Her back as straight and stiff as a board, bloom extending forth from her hair, and with yellow flicker catching lace on her dress, even that shadow cloked image seemed greater proof than either house or butler than a member of the aristocracy lived there. One thing else was visible, and it was because it gave off its own glow. A cameo of a young woman's face—surely not past seventeen—carved from ivory rested on her collar. Surrounding it were six moonstone gems, without flaw, perfectly carved, and glowing with an intensity unbefitting for chams like them. “Sit down, please Lady Vander and Miss Sadlanar. It is a pleasure to meet the two of you. Welcome to my humble home.” The tone lacked any warmth, but then again it was equally void of hostilities. It seemed as though she meant the words, but the idea of open kindness in that woman's voice seemed frankly unimaginable. For a moment the shifting firelight showed a teacup being lifted to her lips. “My name is Lady Knear.” |
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| Gordreg | Dec 7 2008, 02:00 AM Post #64 |
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Administrator
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Eleanor blinked, bemused by the workman’s strange reaction to what had seemed to her a rather innocent question. Even when Melissa called out after him the man simply didn’t stop; leaving her question unanswered. Yet Tucker most certainly hadn’t hesitated to give his own name out – nor that of his colleague Jameson – so why out of all his answers had he simply not given one to the question that she had asked? He had mentioned a Lady, Eleanor supposed; and perhaps he had thought her title would have been clue enough for any resident of the local area. But scampering away like a startled Baroo was rude at best; and especially so with Melissa Vander’s calls to halt utterly ignored. Yet before her question the man had been busy at work… so what had caused him to run off in such a hurry? “I’m afraid to say I missed the details of his expression, Melissa, but… I fear you may be right to be unsettled.” Eleanor agreed, scrunching her lips together as she gave the old mansion a quick look-over. The building seemed more austere then the fancy mansions she had walked by daily in the capital of old; a rugged and practical building which had only afterward been embellished with ornamentation. And now much of that ornamentation had been broken or torn away by the force of the rains; leaving the building once again as the sturdy shell it had no doubt been in its earliest days. “The sight of mayor Finson disturbed me greatly, and now I feel on edge about… most things in this town, to be candid.” She admitted, grimacing as the pair continued to survey the grounds. When Melissa pointed, Eleanor’s eyes followed the direction of her finger. True enough; the door was open… and not just by a sliver, but open wide enough to see well into the corridor. Eleanor chuckled at Melissa’s suggestion; though before she could give her answer and approval the Lady Vander ventured forward and called out. “Cripes.” Eleanor laughed, hurrying forward to catch up with Melissa. “That’s certainly a better idea then knocking forlornly. Wish I’d thought of it!” Eleanor stated briskly, glancing briefly about at the walls as they wandered inward. “I just…” And at that she hesitated, for a man stepped slowly from out of some room to the side. He was short of stature and quite wide, though dressed in classical attire that suggested the position of a butler. For a moment Eleanor wondered if Melissa and herself were about to be shown the door for their trespass, but no; another voice called out from further away and beckoned for their pair to come further inside. The voice was commanding and definitely female; most likely this was the ‘Lady’ herself whom Tucker had mentioned abstractly. Eleanor nodded to the butler out of courtesy as the man strode away, then turned to the left to where the voice had come from. This room too was dark to look at; bereft of any obvious signs of moonstone lighting aside from the glowing gems that Eleanor could see ornamenting the lady’s collar. And moons; was that a fire in the corner? The Lady was content to burn wood for heat and light rather then use moonstone? Eleanor gave her lip a quick chew; this Lady was obviously quite the wealthy person if she was willing to import lumber all this way just to burn it. She sat as directed, perching herself upon the comfortable seat of a worn-velvet chair. “I thank you greatly for your welcome, Lady Knear.” Eleanor dipped her head politely. “Though I must admit to being quite overawed by your capability as a host. It really is quite wondrous that you know our full names…” and she swallowed, taking a quick breath. “...when we have not yet revealed our family names to any of your household.” |
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| PG 17 | Dec 11 2008, 05:54 AM Post #65 |
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Uber Monk
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As the day passed, the Village continued it’s leisurely pace, the ripple of the arriving ship beginning to fade. Suddenly, a shadowy figure appeared on ships deck, and swiftly made his way off the gangplank. He crouched, and hid behind a nearby barrel. Weaving between various objects on the dock, he made his way towards the village. Entering the village proper, he made for a dark alley. Upon arriving, he put his back to the wall and thought out his next move. He knew there was an inn in town, and that his targets would most likely end up their. So, it would be a good idea to check it out and see what he found. Rubbing his glass eye absently, he peeked around the corner at the street. People were walking up and down, some checking the few stalls set up. Although he was trying to remain unseen, he did not see much choice but using the street. Ducking out of the alley, he made his quickly, but casually up the street. Knowing his face and appearance might cause some heads to turn, he kept his face down and tried to blend in. In only a few minutes, he had reached the inn. Deciding that entering the inn was the best course of action, he slipped through the doors and seated himself at a side table. As he sat, a server approached him. “What’ll it be, sir?” She was young, but had a leader-like air to her. “Hm…Dark Loqua, if you have it.” “Aye, yes we do sir, it’ll be five Gold.” The man dug into his pocket and pulled out five coins, handing them to the server. She wandered off towards the bar, allowing the man to have a look around. One of the prisoners was sitting at a table in the middle of the inn, eating what appeared to be dinner. As the server returned, he slipped her another coin and watched the man. Taking a sip of his drink, he formulated a plan to eliminate his target. Henry picked at the last remnants of food, giving a small sigh. “My ships…” He muttered under his breath. “All done?” A cheery voice came from behind. Henry looked ‘round, to see the matron. “Ahh…y-yes, very good.” “Well, I think you will be needing this,” She said, handing him a key. “Second door on the right, can’t miss it.” Henry got up as the matron cleared up his dishes. “t-thank you for e-everything.” “No worries love! Now, up you scoot!” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand and Henry made his way to the stairs. Counting them as he made his way up, he thought once again on ships. Their absence gnawed at him, he almost felt like retching at this point. Reaching the second floor landing, he turn left, and made his way down the hall to his room. Putting the key into the lock, he opened the door and stepped through. The window was open, and a breeze swept through. Turning around to close the door, he heard a sound behind him. Before he could react, however, a hand was placed to his mouth and something pierced his side. He could almost feel his lungs deflating as darkness swept over him. The man held Henry for a few moments, thinking. It had been easy enough to sneak around back, climb up the tree, and open the window. Of course he had no idea which room he would have taken, but it seemed his guess had been accurate. Taking his knife out of Henry’s now still form, he dragged Henry over the closet. Taking a strip of cloth, he bound the wound tightly, to stop the bleeding. The man wanted this to be as clean as possible. Taking out another cloth, he wiped his knife off, placing both back in their respective holding places on his person. Stepping back, he closed the closet, and made his way out the window. Closing it from the tree as quietly as he could, he looked around. Good, no one nearby. He climbed down the tree, and sped off into the village, hoping to be far away when the body was found. |
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| Ranger | Jan 16 2009, 08:11 PM Post #66 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Eleanor's comments made Lady Knear smile, as though the professor was only a small child; too young and unaware to really understand things, and how the world worked. “I make it my business to know any important Valuans by face, by name, and by mark of their profession. The same goes for their family. You two fall in the second group. Which is to be expected: most women in this world tend to. Most women.” Her tone was simple, unattached, and matter-of-fact, let all the while regal. “I'll admit I wish I would have had more years thus far to learn all those names and faces but with my... other studies and... family concerns I find that quite difficult.” The firelight flickered again, showing for a moment a splash of lace around the woman's neck, a pair of teardrop earrings, and—more importantly—the woman's face. However, the flame light was brief enough, and then dim on top of that to only allow the most wanting images of the woman's face. Though even from that ephemeral tracing of her features, it was evident that she had features of true beauty, and that she had been groomed her whole life to better fit her features. Certainly she had tempted more than one man to ask her for a dance, and not even the strictest of nobility could condemn her on her entire composure. Not a hair was out of place, and that cool—yet breathtakingly remarkable smile—rested perfectly on her face. If one had a keen enough eye, they might have even paired the woman's face with the ivory cameo on her collar. The fire glow dispersed as a log buckled. Immediately the room was cast a shade darker, and the dying hearth promised to not shed any more light on the situation. “Of course you've met with Captain Knear. Such a dramatic man, don't you think? Dramatic, yet careful. And, yes, honest, but what do such things matter? Mm.” She paused, apparently taking another taste from her cup. “I suppose he's already managed to tell you the history of his family name—he's quite fond of that tale. Says the entire thing without giving anything away.” The cup was carefully set aside, jeweled ring catching the fireglow. “I don't suppose he's told you of his family, has he? Beyond their names? Oh, he could go on for hours about that. If, that is, one managed to get him to speak the first word on the subject. No one yet has.” Quietly, she chuckled. With a laugh like that, it was no wonder a fire was needed to keep the room warm. Alright, as you can tell, we're starting back up the RRDC. Nobody gets a strike for the period extending from when I last posted for Henry to this post. I, however, will remain out. Here is the schedule with the working strikes. You'll notice that I'm doing a one-day-grace before the posts begin needing to be posted. I'm doing this so it doesn't sneak up on anyone, by chance, and somebody gets out simply on basis of my timing. I'll also attempt to contact the current crawlers with their posting dates before their day arrives. Please carefully look at the dates bellow. As always, all times are CST. I'd also like to state that I'm revising the rule we had about Crawlers overturning the DM's rulings. Before I was counted as a Crawler, but I don't think that quite worked out, so from now on I'll just be the DM, and nothing else. Now the rule is a bit more simple: Any decision or ruling made by the DM can be overturned by the vote of at least half of the (active, inactive, or dead) crawlers. In extreme case situations, this in turn may be overturned by the DM himself, but only for plot reasons. Further, if the other half of the members are against the others, and with the DM, no overturning will take place. This means that it takes the vote of 3 Crawlers to overturn a DM ruling. If 3 other crawlers like the DM's ruling, the ruling will stay the same and not be overturned. If you are, for example, protesting a strike, you can count yourself as one of the 3 needed votes. SummerRayn 2/3 Sunday, 1-18-09 Gordreg 0/3 Monday, 1-19-09 Necromancer Sargoth 1/3 Tuesday, 1-20-09 Dungeon Master Null/Null Wednesday, 12-21-09 Inactive Crawlers PG 17 1/3 Colaya 2/3 Dead Crawlers |
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| SummerRayn | Jan 18 2009, 11:14 PM Post #67 |
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A.k.a. "Sol"
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“There’s a dry goods store just east of here,” the little innkeeper answered Geraldine’s inquiry. “I do believe they stock cigars, but they’d be closing right soon if they haven’t already. If you want to catch them, you’d best hurry.” Geraldine pictured, for a moment, waking up again without a smoke to say good morning to, and saw the value in the innkeeper’s recommendation of haste. “Have a room for me when I get back, please?” she grunted quickly, and then, clamping her stub between her teeth, hustled back out the door from whence she had entered as Henry ascended to his room. “See you in the morning!” she called back toward him, but was gone before he could have answered. She found the dry goods store without much difficulty, identifying it primarily by the fact that a man was latching its front door behind him. “Sir! Need, just need something real fast. Have any cigars? Can you sell me some before ya go?” She made no bones about her desperation, even clasping her hands before her like a peasant petitioning a king, and her normally brassy voice promised eternal gratitude if he complied. “There’s just been all manner of craziness that’s happened to me today, and a smoke’s supposed to be something you can count on, right?” It turned out that her pleading was unnecessary, for the owner of the dry goods store was perfectly willing to unlatch the door again to sell her a small box of cigars. She dug a coin out of her bosom and accepted the box happily, bidding the man a cheery good night as she left. This town wasn’t so bad after all! If she could just sleep in a comfortable bed tonight and maybe find a cup of strong coffee in the morning, she’d decide not even to mind being stuck here for two weeks. She was nothing if not adaptive, Gerrie congratulated herself. When she reached the inn again, she merrily accepted the key to her room from the innkeeper and strode upstairs in search of her hoped-for comfortable bed. Gerrie carefully set her box of cigars down on the little dresser, and tested the bed. She smiled at the satisfaction of a standard met, shed and piled her jewelry by the cigars, tossed her scarf, belt, and suspenders into a corner, and burrowed into bed otherwise clothed. Sleep came to her the way it always did—sudden and heavy and agreeable, full of amusing dreams and unable to be dispelled by anything but the arrival of morning. |
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| Gordreg | Jan 19 2009, 05:06 PM Post #68 |
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Administrator
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Eleanor blinked. Second group? Quite what scale was the Lady Knear using to signify a person as important, she wondered? Certainly not an academic one she decided, as then she would have fitted more neatly into the top tier then anybody else within her family - and no doubt Melissa would have done the same. So was it societal rank, then? But whilst Melissa was a lady of one of the great houses, her own family were hardly at a comparable level of social status within the upper city... could the ownership of a sizable publishing company really be held as comparible to Overlordship of theTartas Province? Somehow, that didn't seem quite likely to Eleanor. She blinked again, and tried her best to look at the lady Knear through the flickering of the firelight. Briefly one feature or another would reveal themselves for a moment as the embers danced amidst the burning pyre, but they revealed no clues to the whole of the Lady's appearence as the light drew back again as quickly as it illuminated. Was there perhaps some reason the Lady used no moonstone for lighting, Eleanor wondered? But the room only drew darker, a collapsing log in the fireplace further diminishing the visability of all. And the Lady Knear continued to talk, Eleanor's brow wrinking very gently with confusion as she did so. She hoped sincerely that the Lady Knear's own eyes were as hindered by the gloom as hers, for then they might not have seen the expression of bewilderment that had flashed across her face. "I... beg your pardon, Lady Knear; but I have met with no man calling himself by the name of Captain Knear." Eleanor answered. "We have met the Captain Madison, but..." And she trailed off, only then recalling. Madison had been his father's last name but the first name in the case of Captain Madison, had it not? And Captain Madison had given them the family name of... Realisation dawned. |
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| Necromancer Sargoth | Jan 21 2009, 05:42 AM Post #69 |
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Affably Evil
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Melissa cast the butler a disdainful glance as she followed Eleanor into the study, where the lady of the house undoubtedly awaited. The room had an old, cozy charm to it that reminded Lady Vander of long ago nights in her own study at the university. That ancient building too had an abundance of rooms enclosed by walls overwhelmed by texts. However, the lighting had been far superior. Melissa glanced around the room looking for a lamp to light before the woman seated before the hearth beckoned them to sit. Seating herself in an overstuffed wing chair next to Eleanor, Melissa finally got her first glance of their hostess. In all actually, it was hard to make out much of any features, but Melissa’s eyes were drawn immediately to the ivory cameo and the six glowing gems around the piece. She wondered if the lady was another scholar of the arcane arts or if she wore it as simple jewelry. Eleanor and their hostess, who had since identified herself as Lady Knear, had already exchanged quite a few words before Melissa realized she had been staring at the noblewoman’s cameo. She smiled apologetically before speaking, picking up on Eleanor’s late realization. “Ah, Lady Knear, yes. We are indeed acquainted with the good captain, Madison. It was he who rescued our party from a particularly fiendish band of rogues.” The lady smiled, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “You two are relations then, yes? It is curious that he did make mention of you or this residence before we parted company. Yes, most curious and I would dare say a rude omission on his part.” “I wonder, Lady Knear, you mentioned your studies earlier. I cannot help but notice that fine cameo of yours… and the moonstones. You have interest in the arcane arts, perhaps?” Melissa offered a friendly smile, yet her eyes remained wary, tired. “I am simply curious; I used to teach at the university in the city before the Rains. It remains a passion of mine… magic. It is always wonderful to find another scholar of noble birth, of course. Those of more banal blood, they simply do not approach the subject with the same… what is the word I want? Grace, I think.” |
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| Ranger | Jan 22 2009, 03:20 PM Post #70 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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“ 'Captain Madison?' ” Her tone was dark. Without question it was dark, but conversationally so; surely it was the craftsmanship only feasible by that of nobles. It was one level more so complicated by the young, subdued ring the voice claimed. “Why he insists in using that name, I haven't the slightest idea. It's not the name I carry, and I wish he'd respect me more than that. He hadn't even made mention of me to top it off? Hm. Well, I suppose I should expect as much. For how much he associates with commoners, it would only go to figure that he'd pick up their traits.” Her mood brighten at mention of magic. Brightened, and yet remained dark. An impossible contradiction, yet was there, present. Any harsh notes were damped and smoothed by the youth in her voice, as the woman knew it did. That was a point that she was always careful to maintain. “Oh, yes, I suppose that I could say that I have an interest in them. A fascinating subject—I know you'll agree—but unfortunately I would argue that it is an unrecognized subject in that regard. I was told that I cast my first spell before I learned how to walk. That I learned my second before I learned how to read. I assume them to be my parents fanciful stories, but it would be a lie to say that I can ever remember a time without spells close to my heart. “I have even heard that there is a seventh moon—either black or orange depending on who you ask—but like those of my mother and father, I believe them to be only tales.” She paused, considering. When she began again, regret touched her voice. “A pity, that; one can only learn so much from six moons.” Nodding head sharply—perfectly so; no book of etiquette could put her at fault for lacking form in any manner, but then that was the way of her every move—she turned to Eleanor. “You should consider learning more yourself. If even you have no plans of making use of it—though there are always, always ways—the simple study of it is important in-and-of-itself. Your study in the realm of animal kind is commendable, but one should not let the natural world get in the way of the supernatural. There is only one thing that rests on a higher field of value than magic—if even the enchantment goes used or wasted.” The nature of her young voice—finely threaded with deeper meaning—almost left doubt as to if such biological studies were, indeed, commendable. It almost did—certainly not enough to make acquisitions on, but then again... the doubt was there. Maybe it was. Perhaps. She had more than any minor degree of practice in such. “I do understand that you have delved into it, but just Curia isn't enough. Not by any stretch of the imagination.” A smile came over her face at the spell's mentioning. Its cause? Well, how could one help but smile in the face of an expression like that of the professor's? Not that Eleanor necessarily had such a look about her; Lady Knear didn't bother to check. The reaction she smiled at was one she expected, rather than saw. “Yes, I know what spell you can cast. Why shouldn't I? You are, after all, sister to a captain. A captain I wouldn't place a part of any minor role in the past few years.” A sick cough stopped that line of thought. It only took her a moment to recover, and when she did so, she calmly stood, and patted down her dress. The firelight was just enough to give sign of her giving a slight curtsy. A very slight curtsy. “Excuse me, but it is past time for me to retire. If you would wish to stay as guests, I would be pleased. Rooms are upstairs; either door on the left will take you into one of the two rooms. I would have more to offer than two, but this town's men are slow workers. Slow, and shoddy.” She sniffed softly at this. “There arebellropes in every room to summon Jeeves if you require anything. If you choose not to be my guest, I understand, but will be disappointed. “I suppose Captain Knear already offered you lodging, though? He's at least that polite. Polite, chivalrous, self-sacrificial, and very little else that matters. He runs around those townsfolk like they're count for anything, but when he's dead, who will remember his name? Who will remember the name of Knear? That's the one test that really matters; the test of time. The test of history. And his memory won't even last a generation beyond his death if this town drys up with Enrique's new base. Commoners." It sounded almost--once more only 'nearly', only 'not quite--a curse. "People don't build monuments in their honor, name lands after them, or write books, detailing their lives. And, I am sad to say your 'Captain Madison' is going to be one such. And," Thepleasant, noble tones departed from her voice for the briefest of moments. "He won't be alone.” Then, without seeming any real cause, a spell rolled off her lips. A familiar incantation; a prayer for strength from one of the six heavenly bodies, and not one, but two of the moonstones glowed to a fierceness characterized by a blazing near white; both red and yellow. Several sparks lit frosted glass lamps, while the fireplace blossomed into a roar that if any larger would have chanced escaping its resting place. And there stood Lady Knear, posed as perfectly as could be. Though both her ivory carving about her neck and her smooth, metered voice—especially her voice—spoke of a young age, no youth was hers to claim. Worn, old, and hollow cheeked, her match-stick form only served to bring out the signs of age about her. The thinness about her spoke of a surely unnatural degree of frailness; as though the warm draft from the fire would be enough to dissolve her into so much dust. Surely it was impossible that such a voice belonged to her. “Goodnight, and may the moons bless your steps.” She paused, and looked at each woman carefully. “As each deserves. A bit of advice to you; always--always--make sure that you are one such person that deserves.” With all manner of grace, she departed, though by the expression on her face, it was an effort to take each step. Please, make your way to a bed, and go to sleep. Any details are up to you. Gordreg 0/3 Thursday, 1-22-09 Necromancer Sargoth 1/3 Friday, 1-23-09 Dungeon Master Null/Null Saturday, 1-24-09 PG 17 1/3 Sunday, 1-25-09 Colaya 2/3 Monday, 1-26-09 SummerRayn 2/3 Tuesday 1-27-09 Gordreg 0/3 Wednesday, 1-28-09 Necromancer Sargoth 1/3 Thursday, 1-29-09 Dungeon Master Null/Null Friday, 12-30-09 Inactive Crawlers Active as-of following DM post SummerRayn 2/3 PG 17 1/3 Colaya 2/3 Dead Crawlers |
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2:37 PM Jul 11