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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Dec 8, 2018 6:44:39 GMT -8
The knight watched with a raised brow as the man walked off at first, making him turn his form as he clipped the sword sheath back onto his hip. For a moment, he stared at Gisheler to size him up, to see if he was still judgemental. He didn't catch much, bowing his head in greeting, "Libourg Tundel, a Soldier fulfilling his duty." Libourg stated, though there was a lack of courage or strength in his words, perhaps his long standing duties here had affected his motivation to an extent. Still, the man replied silently with a weak smile beneath his combed beard, a firm hand resting atop the flame shaped pommel and taking steps to follow after Gishler. "I am a man in need of a duel that isn't with Brigand nor beast... It would indeed be a respite." Libourg agreed to the mans offer with due pride as he met shoulder to shoulder with Gishler, stopping beside him and turning his head with a slow crank to the left, a wayward glance at the side of his unmoving face. The bone structure of a killer, Libourg thought to himself as he noted the lack of movement, "-Of course, a duel is best with the 'proper company', and training is always welcome." The knight let the seed of encouragement blossom through words, before he began taking a couple steps forward to intiate a cohesive movement for the Sellsword and the Knight. Without looking over his shoulder, and not really stopping (though his movement was a normal walking pace), he spoke. "So Gisheler the Sellsword, what brought you to this place? Did the deeds and bounties of the world out there not suit your appetite?" /Gisheler/
Gisheler was certainly still judgemental, with his brows furrowed sternly and his mithritian eyes seemed to trace the edges of Libourg's plate like daggers; they dug deep into the subtle grooves and openings in his armor, like a serpent about to strike. A shark before a lunge; his stare was poignant enough that it almost hurt the joint where Gisheler saw his sword might slip between the plates, there, just as Libourg relaxed his non-dominant hand. Where the collar bone ends, about an inch past... Yes, that would be where he would strike first. There was a spark of realization in Gisheler's eyes as his prolonged examination of Libourg seemed to cut itself off.
"Oh."
He replied to Libourg's name. Gisheler squinted at him, as if trying to remember how to communicate with one's tongue instead of their blade. "That is good." Came the inevitable and nonsensical reply, before he cleared his throat. A balled fist coming up to decently cover the cough.
"... Your name is..." Somehow, Gisheler's face became even more somber; the flat line of his lips curled to a frown, a familiar battle-haze clouded his eyes. Though, the sharpness of his verdant eyes didn't wan... If anything, they tightened, honing in on the man's beard; where it joined his neck, his eyes. Beard: groomed, thick, large. Built for the cold. Proud of it. Eyes: dark, slightly wilted, deeply sunken. Trauma? Perhaps... Though, as Gisheler took a stalking step to the right for a better angle, he noted their closely packed nature. Trauma, perhaps; but also to ward against cold winds.
"... It's familiar. You're from the North? East, a ways?" Gisheler's words came with a growing fluidity, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the next and his head wilted to one shoulder. "You talk like a fresh Ritter."
Gisheler's gaze followed Libourg as he moved forward, and then matched his steps towards the Guild-Hall where he quickly and strictly opened the door. The sharp gaze of Gisheler's helm'd eyes never left Libourg's own. It was impossible to truly tell, but somehow, Gisheler looked to be evermore ready to do more than just spar.
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Post by relentless on Dec 11, 2018 0:28:30 GMT -8
A chuckle gave way at the jab, one that showed Libourg to be impressed, and understanding of the jab itself. Although he was a half blood,the lines of his noble upbringing through childhood didn't seem to go away, along with the rare encounters with other noblemen in his adult life.
"You're quite the constable, Gisheler! Yes, I'm from the land where this style of armour was birthed, 'Gotischer Plattenpanze' as one of official terms might call it."
Libourg stifled a smirk and another chuckle, giving a knock on the hard wood of the Guilds door as he circled to face the sellsword as he left the door open,
"Of course, there's the festival of our renowned beers and ales to celebrate..."
There was a drag in Libourgs voice as his eyes came to notice the tense, and cold hostility that seemed prominent in the features of the sellswords face, along with the eyes. It was something that Libourg wouldn't dwell on for the sake of not creating a strange environment, but in that short passing of time, there was a collision of caution between the two. The Knight gave the man a stare in passing that was disciplined and searching, as if they had just locked swords and the grate of sharp steel caught both their eye.
The man didn't seem to carry on with his explanation of his homeland, either out of realization that this man was more interested in that of sparring, or to simply save his breath after the exchange of glares attempting to overrule each other in passing.
"... I do not recognize your name, your accent or any origin of your garb. Perhaps you're from the lower reaches of Queens Country?"
Libourgs voice and posture had changed from a casual demeanor to one postured upright and to appear quite solid, whilst his voice carried forth a sense of ice that built along the fringes of his tone, as if to combat Gishelers own coldness. In a way, he knew there was some resentment between the Knight and the Mercenary. One man brought up at a young age to live a relatively easy life, not having to worry about the funds for food or education, whilst this man could've been the exact opposite. Libourg would indeed tread along the path of this interaction between two separate origins more carefully.
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Post by black379 on Dec 11, 2018 17:14:42 GMT -8
The problem with Audrey's hideout being past the residential area was the residents. Adeney hoped it was late enough in the evening not to run into passerbys along the way. Instead it was a stranger who ran into him. The doctor kept his footing, though he staggered back a step.
The intrusion hadn't hurt him, but it was yet another irritation added onto his already trying day. Sucking in a hiss of breath, Adeney was prepared to spew livid curses at the woman, but he collected himself. It was only a mistake, and hardly even a setback.
"Would you mind yourself, girl?" He sighed and brushed himself off as though the apparent nun had left some religious residue on him.
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Post by twostepsback on Dec 11, 2018 21:45:56 GMT -8
"A-apologies, good doctor!" Charissa stammers, as she puts up her hands in a gesture of placation, giving Adeney, and possibly Talea, a good view of the 'live dissection' scar on her left forearm, as the sleeves of the slightly-too-big habit Charis is wearing slide down. "My mind was on an Alchemical problem, and not my surroundings." She then adds.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Dec 13, 2018 1:58:15 GMT -8
The good Crowgazer crossed the streets and courtyard of the Hamlet with the pace of the sun's shadow. She drifted lazily and her bone-white mask pivoted atop a veritable column of dark robs as she squinted at every object she passed.
No doubt her vision was damaged. Optical issues were rare in Florence's lineage, and she had anticipated to retain most of her vision as she aged.
And now the world around her was cold, with the red drained from it. The tones of the passersby's skin were now waxy and pallid without the blush of the blood beneath. Even the starkly red-painted roofs, to Florence, were but an empty grey.
It concerned her: her ability to practice surgery, chiefly, necessitated determining shades of red.
She'd simply have to trust her latent knowledge of the shapes of each, individual facet of the human anatomy. Such thoughts did not hamper her confidence.
Florence walked onwards down the street.
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Post by EloHim on Dec 13, 2018 3:45:17 GMT -8
In few blinks of Florence's eyes the Scene and all Secondary Actors changed. No faces, no dresses. Black, slender, genderless figures with white masks absolutely empty, except for three dots indicating eyes and mouth. Florence could see them clearer than she was before, for there was nothing to see in them. The only thing standing out was a figure, perching atop them all thanks to its own high stature. Dressed in dark robes adorned with many bones, human and animal with red scarf running around its neck and down to the ground, hunched, with a giant bird-like head made of bone with glowing yellow eyes looking directly at her.  “My-my...quite a predicament you got yourself into my dear Doctor. Blinded and put into position where impossible odds stacked against you. Some people have bad sense of humor, but when it comes to beings of higher orders it gets worse, sometimes a lot. Trust me, i would know that.”Voice Rec |
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Post by EtherealNoire on Dec 13, 2018 15:05:23 GMT -8
Tenebrous eyes descried the female's gesture, but fell lost to Talea's heed, for she espied not the mortal's carnal form, but corruption's imbibing wont. Where voices weighted silent air, the void consumed the mortal's tongue. Naught but the war within her soul could claim Sovereignty's bitter crown. A tapestry of violent colors, they wove their solemn cries. Blood and bone, anguish and choler. Scars bubbled and knit along her flesh like worms burrowing with gnashing teeth, venturing to the heart. Their famine ne'er ceased. Adorned with jewels of pain, she stood a cursed creature, thwarting quietus' siren call.
Reticent, He warned her. Mark the mortal's fate.
Thus silent as the shadows, Talea drew forth into his mantle.
A ghost she remained to the woman's cognizance, her passage evanesced; The inexorable hand of death.
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Post by black379 on Dec 13, 2018 16:37:43 GMT -8
"Fine. Only pay more attention." Dusting off his apron, Adeney looked down on the woman curtly. He hardly registered her comment on alchemy. There were too many other concerns bombarding him recently to argue alchemy. After all, the doctor had thought it was impossible to reclaim a life once it was lost, yet he was leading Talea to his reanimated friend.
"If you'll ex-" Adeney squinted at the surgical scar on Charissa's forearm. He noted other nicks and callouses on her skin, but the precise mark down her wrist was curious. It was obviously a professional incision.
"What happened to your arm, miss...?" He briefly glanced to Talea, so as not to lose her, then turned his hard look back to the nun.
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Post by twostepsback on Dec 14, 2018 14:16:31 GMT -8
Charissa idly touched the raised scar as she said, "Souvenier from a mad man..." Charis pauses, noting that Adeney seems to be trying to keep track of someone, but that she is unable to make out who. "He was trying to figure out how... I can heal people, but not in the way most Sisters of the Light do. In fact, I'm rather useless with Benidictions." Charis then babbles.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Dec 14, 2018 16:25:11 GMT -8
Florence stopped suddenly, stiffly, as though her bones and joints were all just some mechanical system of levers and pullies.
She apprehended these new figures, the masked passersby and the bird before her, with curiosity.
"Hello. I am Florence Novel. And I am not blind." The good Doctor's voice was entirely flat and monotone, like a novice actor reading a script, and was accented with the proper annunciations of an English Academic. Though, light traces of an Italian upbringing could also be heard.
Her beak jutted upwards as she craned her neck to look at this Bird's face.
"Who are you?"
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Post by EloHim on Dec 15, 2018 4:21:53 GMT -8
The Bird ignored the introduction, either because he already knew to whom he was talking to or because he didn't care at all. "Are you? Now? Probably. Possibly. All the time? Don't count on it. Humans are born blind. And only few can really open their eyes. And even fewer do not get blinded by the light of truth right afterwards. Me? A person with a certain interest in one of your particular endeavours. A certain red stone, a certain pack of gods that exacts their will in quite interesting forms… The usual, for me at least.”
VcRec
He slowly approached Florence, still keeping some distance between the two of them. |
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Post by Vanitypirate on Dec 15, 2018 17:55:11 GMT -8
"Actually," Florence, never letting an opportunity to lecture go untaken, sat down and fully committed with speaking with this Bird-creature. She was pleased to note that he was significantly more polite than the Red One, and well more versed in communicating with others.
"Human infants are born with very primitive vision. They may see--" She distanced her hands between themselves about 40 centimeters apart, or so, "--this far away, and they can recognize faces."
She folded her legs beneath herself and looked upwards at the Bird.
"It is a red gem. However, I only know of one being that I am currently dealing with. I would appreciate your input on the matter."
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Post by EloHim on Dec 16, 2018 12:06:08 GMT -8
“-Oh good Doctor i'm not talking about human capability to perceive the physical world…"- he said with a tiny bit of condescension, hunching his back so his eyes may see his sitting companion. “-That is as common as it ever gonna get and therefore does not interest me in the slightest. The ability to perceive the world of metaphysical...opens a way to oh so many opportunities and interactions. And therefore it is very interesting.”
“-One god, multiple gods…It is so easy to mess that up when you are just a small speck of dust compared to the stars.”-he answered, straightening himself and raising his beak to the sky, revealing the void blackness where his neck was supposed to be. He then quickly returned to his hunched position. “-I never personally met him before, so the name mislead me a little bit, for which i'm terribly sorry. But yes, I am here to provide… input as you say… by offering an alternative to what you’re currently planning to do. Getting yourself into physical danger over the matters of the soul is...tad bit barbaric and so last century. I mean look at the Crusaders, eh? Where they were, and where they are now?
For a long time there has been a way for a any god to attain souls and sustain himself. Those were the days of a Golden Age. Elders had their fun, youngsters received their sustenance and humans fighted for all of them… and for the glory and power and satisfaction of their enormous lusts,wants and ambitions… and received the fulfillment of those desires...or...lost what they had, as with all dice and coin-tosses we commit in our life.
Until most of the gods went to sleep or got locked away and others became too…”- he made a couple of different noises trying to avoid the offensive descriptions like “old” or “lazy” which were pleading to be said. ”- Venerable and Respectable to lose their amassed wealth. But thankfully, we live in a day and age where new gods pop up here, there, everywhere...and the Old Ones start to wake up and shake things up a little bit.” Then the Bird looked behind an through as if expecting to see the entity which was without any doubt listening. And spoke directly to Him. “- Sanguines, we never met each other personally. Mostly because you were before i took my position of servitude. Thus Im sorry but you are not among my masters yet. But there is a chance. From my meager position can see that the old luster is not completely gone. The power could be restored, the souls could be attained, the wishes could be fulfil. And there is a free position amongst the Higher Court. My master’s proposition stands as follows: Sanguines and the champions he’s free to chose can stake their claims trough Gauntlet of R’lyeh."
Voice Recording(went all out on that one, pls kill me)
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Dec 16, 2018 12:32:57 GMT -8
/Florence/
/Sanguines/
[bloodspeech]
A familiar, but small reverberation touched Florence's eardrums, as Sanguines roused at the sight of the strange.
"Slay this one. It intrigues me."
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Post by black379 on Dec 16, 2018 19:33:22 GMT -8
Squinting and leaning towards the woman, Adeney examined the fine scar more closely, though he left Charis her personal space. Whoever made the incision must have been mad, as she claimed. Even for so called 'holy women', there was no innate power in the flesh. Skill was acquired with study and practice. Or, if there was more supernatural influence on one's ability, he didn't want to think on it. The doctor had plenty to trouble his mind already.
"You are different than other faith healers, how?" Taking a step back, he crossed his arms and eyed Charissa down the bridge of his nose. It was curious, the number of strangers cropping up, who claimed some insight or affect on the spiritual. Adeney wasn't sure whether to welcome, or to be wary of them. Already, with Talea, he was using the imperative of the Fanuschrat's danger as an excuse to find ways of undoing his mistake of killing Silvant.
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