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  #101  
Unread 21st of October, 2003, 22:37
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Aleina

"Your generousity seems unbounded, Feyd."

Her face is clear and she nods slightly at his unasked question: an ale would be welcome. Her eyes betray a hint of the inquisitive, along with a faint searching quality. She was watching, waiting for a reaction to the double meaning of her words.
  #102  
Unread 21st of October, 2003, 22:58
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Feyd

"Your generousity seems unbounded, Feyd."

She was giving him some kind of appraising look, and even Feyd could tell that her eyes were asking some kind of question ... but what? Why are womenfolk so durned confusing? Why cannot they just ask their questions, rather than play these silly mind games? His thoughts raced; he'd better come up with some kind of answer. His eyes shifted from Aleina to the bar to the floor to the innkeeper and back to Aleina again. He was having that damned nervous feeling again, like someone here knew more about the surroundings - maybe even more about him! - than he did right now.

"I ... just try to treat others ... well, like I would like to be treated." Feyd dropped his gaze to the floor, and his features hardened. You will NOT give in to despair, you will NOT give in to anger ... came his thoughts as he closed his eyes for but a moment, and seemed to steel himself once again. He raised his gaze and looked the woman in the eyes.

"I try to be better than the evil that lies around us, permeates our world; the evil that kills our people and our hopes." Feyd spoke with conviction, and he spoke boldly. He did not care who or what might be listening. Turning back to the barkeep, Feyd slid the offered tradables to the burly, good-natured man, waiting for his response or counteroffer.

Last edited by Swashbuckler; 21st of October, 2003 at 23:00.
  #103  
Unread 21st of October, 2003, 23:14
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Aleina

Her strange eyes had tightened slightly at the man's discomfort, but widen as he finds his voice with a bold declaration. To make such comments, even in a place that seemed safe, could be disasterous. The moment is frozen in time but when nothing happens immediately Aleina lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. She shakes her head in what appears to be disbelief.

"You are nothing if not direct."

She continues softly enough that he can barely hear her.

"I respect your views but perhaps it is better if we speak more privately."

With that, she turns her back and seats herself at a corner table in the nearly empty common room, waiting for him to arrive with their drinks. He is either a very good actor or he is telling the truth, she decides.
  #104  
Unread 21st of October, 2003, 23:37
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Feyd

He heard her words, saw the shock that registered on her face, and watched as she moved past him into the taproom.

Did I just scare her??? Oh, great ... Feyd surmised, as his eyes found the top of the bar and lingered there. He knew that to speak openly of such things was nigh on a death-sentence in most places. He just did not care. The last few years had instilled in him a firm resolve - a resolve to hunt the forces of the Shadow, and never let them rest while he still drew breath. He would make them pay for every last atrocity they had ever committed, and he would die in the pursuit of such.

Feyd waited for the innkeeper to accept or counteroffer his proposed trade. And then, I shall see to you, fair maiden, and to what fears you suddenly harbor.
  #105  
Unread 22nd of October, 2003, 04:54
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Feyd and Aleina

"The sugar will do just fine," he says, slowly, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. He watches them for a moment before fetching the ales. He places the foamy drinks upon the table, but as Feyd makes his proclamation, Leiden grunts and begins to bustle about.

"Dangerous talk, son," he says, stacking chairs on top of tables, "even if the orc patrol isn't here." He glances to the sides as if there were other people in the room besides the three of them, "Take care of who hears you. I'm going to the festival now, but I left one of the lads in the kitchen to watch things. If there's anything you need, well, I'd wait. He isn't all that bright. Good evening to you--" he nods to Feyd, and then Aleina, "--lady."
  #106  
Unread 22nd of October, 2003, 05:31
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Feyd

Feyd let his gaze linger awhile on the barkeep, a quizzical look on his face. Did he just imply that we could - with his blessing - rob him?!? Feyd slowly took the ales, and before turning to head to Aleina and the quiet table, he quietly told the innkeep, "I appreciate your generosity, good master. But please - keep your stores. I fear for this place ... after the festival. In truth, I cannot believe the town is going through with it."

Feyd leaned closer, and nearly whispered, "Keep your eyes and wits about you in the coming days, sir. I am a man of the wilds, but you have hearth and home to look after." Nodding once, Feyd shot the man a weak smile, truly hoping that nothing untoward befell the man. The innkeep was one of the rare ones, these days it seemed, that would care to look after others over and above himself. Feyd made a mental note on the honor of such a conviction.

He headed over to where Aleina sat, placing a mug quietly in front of her. Feyd sat down, swallowing a quaff as he did so, only to set his mug down and stare at it, one hand still holding the mug.

After several awkward moments, he felt he must explain. "I ... am sorry that my outburst startled you. I am ... well ... not used to towns, you see." Here he raised his face, and looked the striking woman full in those mysterious eyes. He gave a wry smile before continuing in hushed tones. "It is just that I hate the Shadow, and everything they stand for ... and for everything they have done." Feyd's voice seemed to waver a little, but his features held the same morose visage that they had since he raised up to look at Aleina. "The Shadow ... the orcs and the legates ... have murdered everything I have ever held dear." Feyd looked down, grabbed his mug and took a deep draught. Replacing the mug on the table, and wiping the foam from his lips with his sleeve, he gazed into Aleina's eyes once more. This time, however, his eyes held the determination of one who would not be stopped. The statement he made then, low and unmistakeable, could have chilled a lava flow.

"And soon, I shall begin to kill the orcs as best as I can, for as long as I can." His gaze quickly fell back to his ale, softening, realizing he'd probably just scared the girl more than if he would have overtly threatened her life with a blade. But I must share with someone ... even if that someone runs in terror from me.

"I ... I ... am sorry if I frighten you. It has ... been months since I have spoken with someone else ..." His gaze stayed on his mug.
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  #107  
Unread 22nd of October, 2003, 06:00
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Aleina

Fright

The word rolls around in her mind, spiraling, dropping down to her heart and settling in her stomach. It was her constant companion. She was frightened, yes, but not of him.

"Is that the way of it, then? Kill or be killed?"

She places her hands on the table, her mug forgotten. That had been her brothers way, and she had no doubt Brall had killed before his own death. There must be other ways.

"There must be more to it than that."

Her words sound hollow, even to her own ears. One life is all we get, with nothing to follow. Her eyes, locked on Feyd, turn downward to stare into her mug. A stranger's reflection stares back, her eyes a lambent blue. Eyes that seemed to hold the answers to her questions. Eyes that seemed to relish her ignorance.

Last edited by Gralhruk; 7th of January, 2004 at 01:57.
  #108  
Unread 22nd of October, 2003, 10:33
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Feyd

"Is that the way of it, then? Kill or be killed?" She stared at him hard, almost begging him, it seemed, to tell her that life wasn't that harsh. "There must be more to it than that." Her sorrow-filled gaze turned to her ale, much like Feyd's had ... she remains! Could it be ...?

His voice was now only the barest of whispers. "Aleina ... there should be more, yes. Much more. But while we live in fear ... when we are afraid even to talk freely to one another, wondering if someone will turn us in, wondering if our words will get us killed ... it is wrong. Wrong on a level I cannot even begin to describe." Feyd hesitated, another kind of fear welling within him.

Beating down his own trepidation, Feyd quietly reached his hand up, and placed it on top of one of hers. "To tell you the truth," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers, whether she looked up or not, "the halfling is not really my friend. She is obviously an escaped slave. I just want to help her. I even traded for some clothes for her." Feyd relaxed back from the closeness to the table. He had not even realized he'd been leaning in towards the table, towards Aleina.

"I'm supposed to meet her in a little while. Do ... do you want to come with me?"
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  #109  
Unread 23rd of October, 2003, 02:24
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Aleina

His hand falls on her own, and her eyes glance down at it before looking up at him once again. Feyd's gaze is sincere. His hand is warm, rough even, but alive and she is unnaturally aware of the contact. His voice drops to a whisper. "To tell you the truth" his voice sinks even further as he speaks, a ship going down in calm water, and she strains to hear the rest as it vanishes beneath the still surface. Her pupils shrink and shrink as she meets his gaze, until they are like ice blue gems staring back at him. She can feel the skin of his palm pulse with his heartbeat and then the world disappears from her senses.

Truth

The word reverberates disturbingly and then the images come. Black and white this time, soundless. Feyd, the halfling and herself. Together. They talk but for her there is only silence, as though she is deaf. They seem neither happy nor sad, nor does it evoke any particular emotion in her. It just is.

". . . meet her in a little while. Do ... do you want to come with me?"

Belatedly, she jerks her hand out from under his, her pupils springing back wide like midnight wells in a sea of ice. She flushes in embarrassment, realizing that he will mistake her actions.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry - you just startled me."

She gives a quick smile that doesn't quite hide her embarassment but does manage to smooth the situation somewhat. The vision hadn't been clear, hadn't really told her anything - not like the one she had about Kingscross, or some others where she had known definitively a good decision from a bad one. It could be either, she supposed, or it could just be neither good nor bad. Consulting her inner compass, she finds that she wants to know more. Regaining her composure she continues in a calmer tone.

"I'm awfully jumpy these days. Yes, I would like to join you."

Last edited by Gralhruk; 18th of February, 2004 at 03:32.
  #110  
Unread 23rd of October, 2003, 03:05
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Feyd

Feyd had noticed the change in her eyes while he spoke, but when Aleina jerked her hand out from under his, she looked both startled and embarrassed. She explained that she indeed had been startled, and that she was jumpy these days. Feyd was no less wary; there is something about this woman, beautiful or not, ... but then ...

"Yes, I would like to join you."

Feyd moved his hand back to his ale, once more in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. "Sorry about the hand ... thing. Uh ..." He brushed his other hand through his unkempt hair. "Maybe we should finish up these drinks. It's getting close to dusk, and that's when I agreed to meet her." He kept his eyes from hers, not wanting to embarrass himself further.

Last edited by Swashbuckler; 23rd of October, 2003 at 06:51.
  #111  
Unread 23rd of October, 2003, 04:13
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Aleina

Despite her attempted remedy, his discomfort is obvious. She watches his face as he nervously grasps at his ale; he refuses to return her gaze. She bites her lip then shakes her head slightly.

"There is nothing to apologize for. Really."

It was impossible to explain in any way that would make sense to him. For that matter, she didn't even understand it herself. She drops the matter, deciding it's best to simply leave it alone.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are."
  #112  
Unread 23rd of October, 2003, 06:59
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Feyd

Feyd downed the last of his ale and stood, resting the now-empty mug on the table.

He looked up at Aleina, then speaks, "Okay ... uh, I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression. You're ... you're really beautiful, and I expect that you get ... that other men ... well ... I just don't want you to think of me as another guy who is only after one thing. It ... I ... think I've talked more with you in the past few minutes than I have in all of the last year with everyone else." Feyd tried his best to smile, and he thought he had succeeded. It was genuine, not forced. "I don't have too many friends, and sometimes I get nervous ..." he trailed off.

Feyd waited for her to stand and then led her out of the inn.
  #113  
Unread 24th of October, 2003, 11:23
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Heulwen, Aleina, and Feyd

They converge upon the agreed upon meeting place; the two humans arriving after the halfling, her wogren ride being swifter despite the greater distance. She still isn't certain what to think of the wounded dwarf she cornered in the woods, nor what bane or boon this man might bring her. Yet she trusts him, at least as far as she can.

The ruins themselves sit on a small hill outside of town, across the stream. It looks to have been some sort of battlement at some point, perhaps a tower, or perhaps a barracks or training grounds of some sort. Whatever it might have been is now lost to time and only the rocks remain, old bones of a culture that diminished long before the Shadow took hold.

Feyd and Aleina easily make their way to the sight. Aleina recalls seeing it in the distance as she came into the town from the North, and Feyd spies it easily enough, even in the dying light. The halfling might have picked an unusual spot to speak with them, but her very race marks her as an unusual person indeed.

The air is cool tonight, and their breath fogs the crisp air. Occasionally a light wind sweeps across them, sending goosebumps dancing along their flesh. Heulwen hunkers down behind a well-worn stone wall and idly passes the time. Just after the last light from the sky begins to fade, she spies Feyd and Aleina approaching up the hill.

Soradur

He emerges from the trees and is forced to wait a bit longer. Not all the villagers have moved away from their houses quite yet. However as night falls the last stragglers have made their way into the center of town. A good amount of light can be seen there and the distant beat of a drum can be heard.

Seeing his chance, he slips into the town, attempting to be as stealthy as his girth and his wound will allow. The infection is getting worse; he can almost feel it eating away at him. Soradur needs to get to this healer tonight, or he'll be joining his brother in the ether.

The house he marks as the healer's is a small, humble one story building close to the edge of town. He almost despairs at the thought of the healer attending the gathering, but he's in luck. A man, who he can only assume is the healer, sits in a chair at a table. A mug sits before him which he sips from occasionally. There are couple of books sitting on the table, but he does not read. Instead he merely sits, and looks at his hands, watching them. His age is difficult to judge, but if Soradur had to guess by the lines on his face and the slight flecks of gray in his black hair, he'd be about forty winters, perhaps older.

Dun and Lyr

The two men make their way with the rest of the townsfolk to the center. It seems as if every man, woman, and child in Kingscross has turned out for the event, and why not? Why would anyone miss what is likely their only holiday for quite some time? Once more the two men are struck as to how these people can even afford to hold this feast. Their winter stores will likely suffer, and if spring comes late, there could be trouble.

The great tables that had been hauled out to ring the square were not enough. Dozens of people stand around the fringes each. Room has been cleared in the center, likely for dancing, and on a small stand, off to one side, a couple of what look to be musicians are tuning their instruments. Kingscross has put everything they've had into this, clearly it will be a night to remember.

Torches ring the square as well, casting a great deal of light into the center. The murmer of the crowd as they talk among themselves gradually subsides as a man steps into the center of the square.

He's well dressed, sporting well-made and brightly, but regally, colored linen. He clears his throat once, and then begins to speak, a strong, bass ringing out over those assembled.

"People of Kingscross," he says, spreading his hands and smiling, "welcome to the festival--" he's interrupted by some cheers, which he pauses while graciously nodding "--of the Arc of Zimra. We have much to celebrate tonight. All summer we have worked, nay, slaved in the fields and in our homes. Yet our hard work, coupled with our new friend, has blessed us with this bounty. We must never forget the harshness of the world, but for one night, let us put it aside and be merry--" once more he's cut off by cheers, louder this time. He raises his hands waiting for the noise to dissapate. "Tomorrow we might not have the opportunity so tonight, I urge you all to eat, drink, and dance!" The crowd errupts once more, people cheering, hands clapping, and fists thumping on the table. The man bows his head slightly and returns to his table while the rest of town begins to dig into the food layed out at each table.

Dun and Lyr manage to find themselves a spot at a table and begins to take part in the feast. All manner of foods can be found here; fish, foul, breads, cheeses, pies, pastries. Kegs of ale and pitchers of warm, spiced wine are passed around. The air is heavy with the smell of food. In the background the musicians begin to play a jaunty opening tune. A few begin to dance, but most are too focused on eating and drinking at the moment to partake.

The two men feel warm, infected by the cheer of the town. If people are still able to pitch together and create something like this, perhaps the world is not so bad off as they believed.
  #114  
Unread 24th of October, 2003, 11:56
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Dun

Seeing, hearing, smelling, but most of all, feeling the celebration, but still not believing, Dun shakes his head as he turns to Lyr, "Are these village folk mad or am I just dreaming?"

He gazes back at the revelers, not realizing he is one of them, "Now, don't say it ... am I simply too cynical? Has my life in Baden's Bluff simply jaded me so?"

All the more amazed by the genuine merriment at hand, "Never have I imagine the people of Baden's Bluff would ever carry on this way. It simply would not be permitted, not without consequences."

As the evening wears on, Dun lets go his concerns, his worries, and his duties and obligations, at least for one night. He soaks in the festivities, partaking in the bounty that is offered freely, openly. Hoping Lyr can make out his words over the din of the revelry, Dun whispers in his ear, "I have heard a term used but only once, then, but never could I forget, though I never understood it's true meaning at the time. These people have not been Shadow Touched. Only now ... in a sense ... I truly do ... understand."

Dun observes, "My Friend, this is how things should be! This ... celebration of life ... truly glorious! The bounty of these people ... the spirit!"

Last edited by Berova; 24th of October, 2003 at 11:59.
  #115  
Unread 24th of October, 2003, 13:35
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Soradur

Soradur rubs his hands together as he walks away from the side window. Thanks be to Mother Moon, a man who appeared to be the Healer was sitting inside the small house. Soradur could feel the wound eating deeper into his flesh, towards the organs beneath, even now. With no way to conceal his appearance, he knew the Healer would recognize him for what he was. Would that be his doom?

Soradur thought of Toryas for a moment, wondering if he would join him in the hereafter soon. As Soradur contemplated the events that had brought him to this small village, he wondered if it had all been for naught. Was his fate to be brought low by the slow death of disease from a Fells bite, never to avenge his brothers end? A flash of raging pain brought his teeth clamping down, shutting his jaw against the scream of agony that threatened to leap forth.

Soradurs vision blurred as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, the wound seeking to take his life when he was so close to a cure, yet so far. Cold sweat dripped across his brow as he held his side with one hand, as he dropped to the ground on his knees. The icy grasp of death seemed to reach out for him, and for a moment all he could feel was the flesh peeling away, eating into the ribs, bone and marrow beneath. Soradurs black eyes seemed to dull for a moment, as he began to fall face first onto the grass.

Then, a strange sensation, a familar sensation, cut through the wave of torturous pain, and he caught himself through sheer force of will. Soradurs mind shot back to that night when he had held his brother in the flames, the crackling fire leaping up his arms as he had finished the deed started by his own failure as a craftsman. The pain had been purifying, cleansing, and the focus he gained from it would be with him forever.

His arms tingled with the memory, but it was not there he felt the old sensation. Across his back the warmth spread, searing and comforting him. Shaking slightly, he reached the hand not clutching his side beneath his cloak, clasping the haft of Duryas, and ripping it forth. The blades fiery glow enraptured him, pure white flames dancing across the entirety of the weapon, caressing his hand with the heat. Barely aware of his own actions, Soradur, with his arm trembling from the exertion, pressed Duryas deep into his wound.

The icy cold, festering pus filled skin quailed, and then crumbled before the touch of the flames, the healthy flesh around it crackling. The pain was incredible, but somehow refreshing to Soradur, and he bared his teeth in a victorious smile, just before he blacked out.

Soradur snapped his eyes open, breathing heavily. Mother Moon shone brightly upon his prone form, as he lay on his back and looked up to the heavens. He felt the secure weight of Duryas resting against his back, and he wondered if it had all been a dream. His body shaking, he slowly pulled himself up to a standing position. Gritting his teeth in anger, he cursed his weakness.

No doubt he had been hallucinating from the pain. Any delay now could cost him his life. He thought of his brother once more, and remembered why he had begun this journey in the first place. "Toryas will be avenged!" Soradur thought, his dark eyes glowing once more with a burning rage.

Gathering himself, he narrowed his eyebrows angrily, and stomped towards the entrance to the Healers home. Reaching the doorway, he brought his fist against it thrice, as he called out, "Hello! I realize this is a late hour, but if yerself be tha Healer I heared so much about, I 'ave grave need o' yer services."
  #116  
Unread 24th of October, 2003, 18:08
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Lyr

The slim young Erenlander watches the lordly man address the assembly with a mild frown, a nascent suspicion growing in his belly.

A half smile rides Lyr's face as he watches the celebration begin. At Dun's words, Lyr shakes his head.

"Everyone needs some goal to strive for, Dun. If they work themselves as hard as they can every day of the year, cut the fat and scrimp the lean, all to have enough that they can afford to feat so well on one night... then perhaps that's their way of coping with the harshness of life." he pauses as Dun turns back to the convivial meal, his, Lyr's, eyes on one of the flautists, and adds in a whisper, lost to the sounds of joyful carousal "Whatever gets you through."

Even though it would be wiser to spread what they have through the year, Lyr thought glumly. That wouldreduce their suffering. Ahh, Dun, my friend, it isn't you who is the cynical one.

Lyr tries to lighten his mood, and finds it relievingly easy to loosen up amidst these warm, cheerful folk. When Dun speaks again, Lyr has to lean close to listen, and what he hears adds another layer to the nascent worry in the pit of his stomach.

A pretty, wheat-haired lass catches him by the eye and smiles, but the expression etched onto his face makes her fade back into the crowd of dancers.

"Shadow touched," he whispers to himself. No matter what he eats or drinks after that, he cannot cleanse the bitterness of ash and sawdust from his palette, nor smooth the lines from his brow.

Last edited by Dirigible; 24th of October, 2003 at 18:47.
  #117  
Unread 25th of October, 2003, 05:44
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Dun

After the man finished his speech, Dun asks one of the villagers as he claps along with the crowd, "Who was that speaking?"
  #118  
Unread 28th of October, 2003, 02:00
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Heulwen

Although Heulwen's encounter with the dwarf had ruined her chance of scouting the area where she was supposed to meet Stafford later, it had had the unforseen benefit of her knowing that the pair now approaching had not been out here earlier to set a trap. The time she had spent watching the area here had made sure of that, but she would have to be extra careful at her meeting with Stafford.

Staying carefully hidden, Heulwen watches as Feyd and the woman approach. Studying them carefully she looks for weapons or other signs of betrayal. Sniffing the air, Heulwen tries to detect the scent of any possible hidden observers. So far so good...
  #119  
Unread 28th of October, 2003, 07:01
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Aleina

She doesn't speak as Feyd haltingly compliments her and tries to explain himself. She just nods solemnly at the man and follows him out of the bar, wondering how he could be so shy at one moment and so bloodthirsty the next. And soon, I shall begin to kill the orcs as best as I can, for as long as I can. His words still ring hauntingly in her head and when her skin prickles it isn't entirely from the cold.

Yet his assessment was accurate: the state of their existence was all wrong, and it needed to change. How other than violence? Even if every Erenlander took five orcs with them, it still looked like it wouldn't be enough. Killing seemed not only pointless but ultimately ineffective.

This same man that believed in killing was also on his way to help a stranger. The two things didn't quite add up in her mind. Or maybe they did and she just didn't like the equation. To make matters worse, he was already pursuing the only other remedy she could think of - that is, to help instead of harm. It wasn't a solution in that it didn't get rid of the problem, it only treated the symptom.

She looks up to see the ruins that must be their destination, remembering how forlorn they looked when she had seen them in the light of day. Tonight they look only forbidding, and she shivers beneath her warm cloak, the fingers of fear dancing along her belly. Her brief vision was cold comfort. It hadn't been explicitly bad, but the visions had been wrong before, and this one had been ambiguous.

"Is that our destination?"

Last edited by Gralhruk; 18th of February, 2004 at 03:36.
  #120  
Unread 29th of October, 2003, 02:57
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Feyd

"Is that our destination?" Aleina asked, after walking along mostly in silence. Her voice was quiet - almost, Feyd thought, as if she were afraid to hear her own voice. He knew some kind of inner battle was going on with the girl - that much was plain from her changed countenance and voice. Feyd did not have time to ponder such things, however.

"Yes, Aleina, I believe it is." Feyd moved up to the ruins, and puled the clothes he had purchased out from his pack. Looking around, he tried to spot the halfling, who, if she was there, was obviously hiding.

It suddenly occured to Feyd that he'd never learned the halfling's name. Stupid, Feyd ... very stupid. Chalk up another learning experience.

"Uh ... miss? Are you here?" Feyd called out, as loud as he dared. "I've brought you some clothes. It's cold out, and I'd imagine you could use them." Feyd kept looking around, trying to see if anything stirred at his comments. He hated not having his bow, but that would have to come later.

Feyd looked back to Aleina, trying to gauge her sentiments at the moment, but seeing nothing which told him of her thoughts. He turned back, looking for the halfling ...
  #121  
Unread 29th of October, 2003, 03:10
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Aleina

Feyd calls out hesitantly, his words crashing like lobbed glass among the stones. She looks around somewhat nervously, seeing only shadows and hearing nothing but the wind.

This place is haunted.

The young woman chides herself for such superstitious thoughts, trying to discredit them for the baseless fears that they were. When Feyd looks back she meets his gaze, expressionless, her blue eyes gleaming with opalesence and, perhaps, with a hint of dread.

Last edited by Gralhruk; 7th of January, 2004 at 02:02.
  #122  
Unread 29th of October, 2003, 12:47
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Dun and Lyr

The festival continues and before they know it, Dun and Lyr have food heaped upon their plates; roasted pork, bread, cheese, and more. Bowls of stew balance precariously upon plates, while mugs and goblets are hoisted and clinked together. Laughter can be heard coming from the various tables as people begin to tell stories and jokes.

Dun turns to the man next to him, a large fellow who sports scraggly beard and inquires as to who the speaker was. He glances over, dark eyes glittering, and says, "An outsider, eh? That there was Mayor Lusk." He looks at Dun a moment longer before lifting a ceramic mug to his lips.

The two men attract their fair share of attention from the Kingscross girls, as well as a few of the younger widows, but the expression on Lyr's face keeps the majority of them at bay. Dun, however, finds himself swept off into the dance square by a pretty, but strong farmer's daughter.

Soradur

Thrice the dwarf's meaty fist thumps against the stout door. The celebration sounds to be in full swing, but he still risks being discovered. Yet after what had just happened, be it dream or otherwise, he needs attention. The grains of his hourglass are few and they are being spent quickly. His surge of energy, of rage will fuel him for a while, but even that will die.

A moment passes, then two, and for a split second Soradur isn't sure if the man will answer the door. Yet the knob turns and it's opened to reveal a man that looks to be in his middle years. The faintest bit of gray can be seen dashed here and there amidst his jet black hair. Lines run his face that look to be more from worry than from laughter, and while his face is not unkind, it does not look altogether warm.

He's dressed simply, wearing a loose white robe over a shirt and breeches. His eyes widen slightly, but a second is all it takes for him to recover. Looking up and down the street once he ushers the dwarf inside.

"Come in," he says, jostling Soradur into a nearby room that is quite plain in nature. A table, a chair, and a bed are all the features. He points to the bed, indicating that the dwarf should lie down as he moves to the window and sharply draws the curtains shut, cutting out what little light is left in the sky.

His movements are swift as he darts back to the dwarf, but his hands are gentle as he pulls Soradur's hand from the wound. He notices that the healer's hands are thickly calloused, his gaze slips up to the man's face and notices that it's red, as if from being in the sun too long, or drinking too much wine.

The healer's mouth twitches as he looks at the wound but after a moment he nods once, seemingly to himself before saying, "I can heal it," he says, "but it will be...uncomfortable."

Last edited by Cadrius; 29th of October, 2003 at 13:28.
  #123  
Unread 29th of October, 2003, 13:26
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Soradur

Soradur wonders momentarily at the ready acceptance of this one at the appearance of a Dwarf at his door, but dismisses it from his mind at the prospect of a cure. The wound pained him still with every step he took, and he could feel his body slowly, achingly, giving out.

Grinding his teeth for a moment, Soradur rasps out a reply to the Healer, saying, "Uncomfortable, aye? Tis hard fer me ta imagine feelin worse than I do now. Death is comin fer me, and though I dinnae know why ye offer yer help freely, and to one o' me kin, I will take any aid that ye can offer. No matter tha pain it may bring."
  #124  
Unread 30th of October, 2003, 03:10
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Heulwen

Clothes? Are they bait for a trap? Or is he expecting something in return? Heulwen wonders to herself as she listens to Feyd call out. Well, I suppose I ought to make my presence known. I did after all ask them to meet me here.

Moving out of her hiding place while Feyd's back is turned to her, Heulwen waits for him to turn back and see her before replying.

"Its not so cold yet that what I have is insufficent, but it will not be long before winter comes."

Shifting her weight slightly so that the sword on her hip is more evident, Heulwen continues, "What do you expect in return for these clothes?"

Glancing at the woman, Aleina, Feyd had called her, Huelwen catches the hint of fear in her eyes and her mind begins to race. Sniffing the air quickly, she strains to detect the precense of some unseen observer without taking her eyes of the pair in front of her.
  #125  
Unread 30th of October, 2003, 05:52
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Aleina

One moment she is alone with Feyd in this deserted place and the next the halfling is there, next to a small outcropping a short distance above and away from them. She is somewhat surprised at how small the halfling looks, not really having seen her very well in town and having little experience with her kind. Yet despite her size, she seems sure of herself, the confidence reflected in her voice. Yet when her eyes meet Aleina's, the human woman senses a change in her bearing, a sudden sense of heightened alertness.

She is made wary by my own unease.

Aleina shakes her head slowly, her eyes suddenly sad. Feyd's haltlingly spoken words - when we are afraid even to talk freely to one another - held more truth than she wanted to admit to. Yet here she was, doing exactly that. When she looks up again, she is calm, finally accepting the possible consequences for even being here. In this she would follow her heart and, for good or ill, reap whatever was sown.

"My name is Aleina, and though your question is not to me, I tell you that this is given freely and with hope that it will find use where there is need. All hope is truly gone if we cannot even help one another out of fear for our oppressors."

<OOC: Diplomacy +7>

Last edited by Gralhruk; 18th of February, 2004 at 03:38.
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