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Post by ricarditoreyes on May 2, 2020 23:31:43 GMT -8
Basic directions and no new information. Hm. It might be that this particular man was of no help and did not know anything in particular, or it might be that they were untrustworthy. Of which, Markus did not know. He would give them the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, he waves a hand up ahead. "You go. I follow." He would not walk in front of them. Many a fool had tried to guide him to somewhere at his side only to slip behind him and try to wedge a knife in that slab of meat he called a back. He had learned. He would follow them nonetheless. A hot meal and some rest would be wonderful. That, and he could get to work on properly maintaining his weapons and even maybe procure something new and exotic to train with. "This place. It is cursed." He was not a superstitious person, but the Romans had their gods and he could tell when a god was displeased with someone or something. Evidently, they were displeased with this place. He was not afraid of man or beast. But the otherworldly he had not faced yet. What kind of foes would he face here. "What has happened?" The man's distrust was apparent when he signaled Joseph to walk ahead of him. Joseph himself didn't fully trust this individual, but told himself that the towering man was probably too tired to try anything. "Suit yerself." the young man said as he turned around and started walking towards the Tavern once again. Thoughts flew across his mind. The man's accent and diction told him that he was probably from some faraway land. He started to doubt his plan of recruiting this peculiar individual for his future endeavors. Would it even be possible to convince such a weary and careful figure to trust a strange young man like him? He brushed the thought of the man's cold nature off once again, convincing himself that it was only the travel fatigue talking. Another quick question arose regarding the man's finance. Could the man, who came from such distant lands, have the correct type of money to pay for the Tavern? In his homeland, Joseph remembers using a completely different coin to pay for services. Worry crossed his mind, as he knew the Tavern owner wouldn't stand for payment dodgers, no matter how big and imposing they were. Joseph was pulled out of his contemplation of the man's nature when the man spoke of a curse upon this place. He let out a brief chuckle. The army commanders in his youth were always the superstitious type, forcing their men to pray before every little endeavor. "Maybe. All I know is it sure as hell has made a name for itself." Before he could say anything else, horrible memories crossed his mind. Rumors being told around the bonfire with his mates back in the day, except these rumors did nothing but cause unrest and paranoia. Tales of warriors being ripped limb by limb by the horrific beasts dwelling in the darkest corners of the Hamlet's dungeons. He himself didn't want to trust in these rumors, but after all, it was what drew the once young and ambitious man here in the first place. "As for what happened, no idea. Best not to trust the whispers 'round these parts. Although what is true is that something horrible lurks below this very place. So yer right, this whole damn place could be cursed." |
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Post by EtherealNoire on May 3, 2020 17:42:10 GMT -8
[Talea]
Again this lightdweller brought laughter to her lips, though its sounds were so truly foreign Talea scarcely recognized it as her own.
"Once more I offer thee my gratitude," she answered, while the shadows played across her visage, concealing all but the soft upturn of her smile and the silver sheen of an aged scar. In the shade, she seemed to grow at ease, forgotten tension melting from her shoulders while her steps turned light, barely kissing the glittering snowfall at their feet. Its sullied banks had just begun to melt in the first rays of dawn, and she drifted amidst the hazed plumes that arose like departing ghosts afore them. Though veiled from the man's view, her gaze followed their flight in a perilous union of desire and envy.
"In a moon foregone, I had abided nigh the place I seek and partook in their jocund festival. Twas a merriment I had not known, and lo, the evening lingers in my memory. Yet..." her voice wavered, burdened by an untold grief. "I fear when my queries are answered, I shall not leave their domicile unscathed."
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Post by rosallora on May 3, 2020 18:05:28 GMT -8
[Ezekiel]
"You think they're going to hurt you?" He isn't pleased by that in the least. "...Then, fair Talea, allow me to stick by your side. I've not guarded many in my time," he puffs lightly, "but it would be so wrong of me to leave a maid in distress who I said I would see to, at least until the moon is in the sky again! When we arrive, as long as you're fearful, then let me be there. I have my shield and my spear and I will ensure nothing happens. I may be old, miss. But there are some tales to be scribed yet left in me!" He keeps up with her pace, though her movement was faelike and his much more grounded, feeling the cobbles beneath his feet with every step. He watches for patches of ice, not wanting to fall over and hinder their travel.
"I don't think I've said it in full - I am Ezekiel Matas Juska. I come from the East - from many wars and campigns, travel-songs and campfires. And I have no reason why I shouldn't be in your service for the time being. A scared maiden should be escorted and cared for until her cheeks are flush bonny-bright with happiness and comfort! Any man worth his salt knows it."
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Post by relentless on May 6, 2020 17:21:17 GMT -8
[COMING FROM SANITARIUM]
-GANDRY-
The small yet sturdy frame of the sanitoriums entrances swings open, with a lumbering, gamberson clad figure moving past. They move with a sluggish grace to their movements, their steps carrying down the cobblestone stairway with firm motions and careful body language. The hooded figure Don's a domed armet, his head down, cowl providing coverage to those who sought to power and identify the man behind the helmet.
With the bandit dog sedated, and a sum paid out of his own pockets to cure their feralness nd the like to make it somewhat possible to tame and bring to heel. Gandry moves off to the Hamlet Streets, hands close to himself as the suspicious figure keeps to himself, aiming to move through the alleys and skinny streets. He likes the quiet, both to himself, and to others.
Eventually, he comes past nearing the recruitment carriage, where jackboots click and then rustle against whetted stone and wet leaf. He comes to a severed stump, decapitated near its base in a semi flat fashion, woodworkers having already carried off the resource elsewhere. He pivots around, taking a brief, slow and analysing look around his surroundings, before Gandry would sit slow onto the log. The ex-bandits body would creak, with a low huff of slight tiredness permitting through his helm, as back creaked and muscles remained strained like double knotted rope. Backside meets a wooden base, and Gandry twists his upper torso from left to right, then stretching his legs to release tension. From there on... he relaxes, withdrawing his used shortsword, wiping the blood of the deceased on his gamberson waistcoat before inspecting it with a few rotations in the odd number of angles. Equipment came first, then his injuries, then the inspection of loot.
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Post by zolosan on May 7, 2020 7:17:11 GMT -8
[Markus]
"Bah." He waves an arm dismissively. "The Gods will handle the curse. I will handle the enemy with steel." He says, confidence in his voice. Was he scared? No. Was he electing to be cautious due to the vastly unknown nature of this place? Yes. "I have slain beast and man. What more is there to slay?" He recalls his battles against fearsome wolves, or the time when the emperor himself ordered two tigers to be thrown into the arena after he'd slain their best man. He'd killed the tigers, albeit with some struggle, but he'd forged his legend then and there. Whatever odds were put against him here, he'd even them out quickly and with gusto.
He realizes, after a bit that he'd forgotten to ask the other's name. He could see what was presumably the Tavern entrance at the end of the street as well. "Quod nomen tibi est? Er..." He scratches his chin, trying to translate Latin to English in his head. "What is your name? My name is Markus." Damn this language, or the lack of people who spoke his.
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Post by ricarditoreyes on May 7, 2020 8:14:53 GMT -8
[Markus] "Bah." He waves an arm dismissively. "The Gods will handle the curse. I will handle the enemy with steel." He says, confidence in his voice. Was he scared? No. Was he electing to be cautious due to the vastly unknown nature of this place? Yes. "I have slain beast and man. What more is there to slay?" He recalls his battles against fearsome wolves, or the time when the emperor himself ordered two tigers to be thrown into the arena after he'd slain their best man. He'd killed the tigers, albeit with some struggle, but he'd forged his legend then and there. Whatever odds were put against him here, he'd even them out quickly and with gusto. He realizes, after a bit that he'd forgotten to ask the other's name. He could see what was presumably the Tavern entrance at the end of the street as well. "Quod nomen tibi est? Er..." He scratches his chin, trying to translate Latin to English in his head. "What is your name? My name is Markus." Damn this language, or the lack of people who spoke his. As he lowered his head slightly, a quiet grin crossed Joseph's face. He could sense that the man was beaming with confidence. After all, said confidence was justified, as the man's scars screamed tales of hundreds of victories. More wild predictions crossed his mind. Perhaps, this man was no ordinary general or adventurer. Trying to keep his excitement in check, he turned back and faced the man, who had just finished telling of his many past victories. He had always admired confidence. To him, it was the main force guiding his blade. He simply could not imagine living a cautious life, ruled by fear. He then mocked himself silently, mainly for his wild fantasies, painting the man he had just met as some epic hero. He returned his attention to the man. "So you're a fighter, eh? Good, good. You'll fit right in." He really did believe so, as the few travelers he had seen entering the hamlet all brandished high quality combat gear, as if they were prepared for the most brutal of conflicts. As the man introduced himself, first in the strange, but vaguely familiar, church language, he could only listen carefully and pretend to know what he was saying. Before he could display his confusion however, the man finally spoke to him in a language he understood. "The name's Joseph. 'S a pleasure to meet ya." Joseph decided to reach out his hand and offer a handshake, despite knowing well that it was very possible the man would not understand his customs. "Anyways, Tavern's right up ahead. Let's get you a nice warm meal, yeah?" |
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Post by EtherealNoire on May 10, 2020 9:39:03 GMT -8
[Ezekiel] "You think they're going to hurt you?" He isn't pleased by that in the least. "...Then, fair Talea, allow me to stick by your side. I've not guarded many in my time," he puffs lightly, "but it would be so wrong of me to leave a maid in distress who I said I would see to, at least until the moon is in the sky again! When we arrive, as long as you're fearful, then let me be there. I have my shield and my spear and I will ensure nothing happens. I may be old, miss. But there are some tales to be scribed yet left in me!" He keeps up with her pace, though her movement was faelike and his much more grounded, feeling the cobbles beneath his feet with every step. He watches for patches of ice, not wanting to fall over and hinder their travel. "I don't think I've said it in full - I am Ezekiel Matas Juska. I come from the East - from many wars and campigns, travel-songs and campfires. And I have no reason why I shouldn't be in your service for the time being. A scared maiden should be escorted and cared for until her cheeks are flush bonny-bright with happiness and comfort! Any man worth his salt knows it." [Talea] Her fairy steps faltered on the stone as though his words, like a spell cast, had transfigured her to marble. For what brave utterance could dissuade a man so rightly forged with valor? She knew there was nay a word beseeched that would halt his journey, yet despite the complications he courted, she felt a warmth blooming in her heart. Relenting to its celestial aura, Talea renewed her journey with a sweeping step, dipping as though bowing to the man when she ventured further betwixt the sorrowed dwellings. Auburn trailed her wake, the only portion of her soma bold enough to catch the sun's fleeting rays and ignite in a copper glow. "Fret not, for my Master doth grant me strength against such perilous foes. I shall entreat them and verily, though scathed by knowledge profane, I shall prevail." After a breath passed between them, one frosted with hesitation that Talea watched escape in crystalline fog from her lips, she returned his appellation with her own. "Thou may call me Talea. Talea Noir. Oracle of Night and Maiden of Thorns." |
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Post by rosallora on May 10, 2020 9:43:18 GMT -8
[Ezekiel]
"Talea, Maiden of Thorns... such a title for a woman so much more deserving of a rose!" He chuckles, the woman before him confident despite the dangers that apparently lay ahead. He does not know of any master named Night, but perhaps this was why she feared the Sun so! Religious types were always so strange in their many different superstitions. "Well fair Talea, maiden of Thorns, light of step and long of sweet hair, so will I accompany until I am dismissed." He nods shortly, as he did wish to see her through to the end unharmed. Though if she dismissed him, there was little he could do then to keep himself present. It was her choice, in the end.
"Do you see where it is we are headed then, miss?"
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Post by EloHim on May 10, 2020 10:22:02 GMT -8
[Elohim, The Crimson Salamander]
"Forgive me for intruding upon a conversation... but why are you awake so soon?"- a familiar voice, albeit more stern, asks from behind of the pair. It was Elorit...and he was mildly irritated. Seeing her awake so soon was neither expected nor agreeable with her current health situation. He could only hope that those doctors in Sanitarium did any of the work that was requested… Or else he would be having words with them on the treatment of their patients...or lack there-of.
His eye was fully focused on Talea, only gracing Ezekiel in a passing. His left eye...the ruby was barely covered by the cowl of his new coat - taken from the body of a bandit.
"I do hope that it was your master that awakened you, and you were not at fault. That - I would expect. Otherwise..."- he left the end of the phrase up to their imagination. It wouldn't be impossible for whatever power protected her to be...less than welcoming to other power's efforts to sustain her. Territorial bullshit amongst the gods and their ilk was such a common theme at this point, he already wanted to slap the hell out of whatever entity that claimed mastery over Talea.
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Post by EtherealNoire on May 10, 2020 12:25:56 GMT -8
[Talea]
She bore no heed to his rebuke, ne'er straying from the path afore them where the glint of her destination's roof shone against the pale sky, yet her dour tone laced the alley with shadows.
"Executant, though I am indebted by thy aid in forestalling the whim's of death, thy reproach is impertinent. A time shall come when all creatures of this mortal realm shall rest, nevertheless, my fealty precedes all other course. I pray thee, do not sully my enthrallment with such nescient slander."
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Post by rosallora on May 10, 2020 12:28:56 GMT -8
[Ezekiel]
She has officially lost him, nonetheless, the other's presence poses interesting questions. Elohim's tone doesn't quite tickle him the right way, and the woman's response at least follows that logic. He straightens himself up a bit, eyeing the young pup. "Respect the fine lady," he says simply, adjusting his shield so she falls completely beneath its shadow.
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Post by EloHim on May 10, 2020 13:32:53 GMT -8
[Elohim, The Crimson Salamander]
"Your fealty surely does not precede self-preservation? You are of no use to your master if you're bleeding out on the cold ground. As far as i've gathered he's not very proficient in fixing human bodies, especially so after expending so much power on tearing them apart. Your wounds may not bleed but they are not closed. Bandaged and clotted, maybe. But should there be another attack - however unlikely that event to happen now - my work would be undone with the finger-snap the first minute you attempt to run. Or say... if you go and get yourself a bath. With that cut across your ribs? You'll bleed out. And the stitches of your master will not help, i've seen what they do."- he breathes out, frustrated that he has to spell it out for her.
"You want this man to carry you back to the place that you were put in for a reason? You want me to expend more of my life-blood on you just because you were too stubborn to stay in bed? Because I will! And I have no doubt that he will do his part, too!” -he points at Ezekiel who did a much better job at caring for Talea and she did to herself.
“Our underlying reasons may differ....but still."
Godforsaken end of nowhere. Goddamn Sanitarium, goddamn Hamlet...full of people that treat everything with alcohol and rags and think that this is all it takes. No wonder that most people die out here. They take any attempt at care as a personal offence, a besmirchment of their "honor", or other such idiocy, never realising how close they come to dying by refusing such help. Self-preservation is never a sin. Ignoring it - close to it. He didn't do enough then. He'll not let anyone repeat those mistakes.
"Forgive for trying to keep the patients that come from beneath my hands alive, ser knight."-he switches his tone to a more respectful one, as he looks at the man. Ezekiel was not to blame here, he probably didn't know the full extent of the damage done. Surely that was it...- "Proper doctors were supposed to keep her for an odd 12 hours...ideally 24, after that she would not be at risk of her wounds opening. I honestly doubt that this much time has passed. Yet here we are."- a tired smile appears for a second on his face, before disappearing all over again.
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Post by EtherealNoire on May 10, 2020 15:30:14 GMT -8
[Talea]
Once more she halted against the shackles of his tongue, and it wounded her to hear his passion, above all, those she knew to be correct. Her side still seared with unseen fire, and her body weighed heavy against each step. Talea had dismissed its anguish in favor of her task, yet if his ardor and fervent rebuttal came to pass, she could nay more pursue her mission. Not with her spirit trapped in a mortal shell.
The wind felt colder, crueler, biting against her pallid flesh when she turned at last to face him and the hint of crimson shrouded below his brow. Her own visage showed little of the words still reverberating in her mind, nor the realization that this Executant yearned for her to survive. To what aim?
"I seek the knowledge held by he who lords this borough, nay more. Natheless, thou speaks of motives for ensuring my survival."
Beneath the shadows of steel and tresses, a glimmer of emerald betrayed her intrigue.
"Dost thou hath need of me?"
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Post by EloHim on May 10, 2020 16:51:52 GMT -8
[Elohim, the Crimson Salamander]
He wants to dance...finally, he got through to her. She was finally willing to listen! Today was going to be a good day.
"I do have a need for you...But...if you seek one who pretends to rule the Hamlet and the lands around, you're not gonna find him in Lekalis's Bed and Bath...unless you think he's the one ruling the place. Which, hate to break it to you, he is not. I hoped he might be...but after some chat i've found out that while he is the son of noble bloodline, he's not the Heir of this place. His blood's roots run through the ground far away from here. But I do believe that making him an acquaintance shall serve you well. He's a useful man to be friends with. I might introduce you, if you dont attempt to kill yourself by putting strain on your body in near future."- he chuckles a bit. Who knows, maybe it'll work? Tit for tat, quid pro quo, that sort of thing.
“I need you...for many reasons. One is plain as a day - we're at war."- he turns his head to Ezekiel a little bit. - “You might not have realised it yet, ser knight, but the moment you stepped out of that stage coach on this here soil, you became an Actor in a Play and a Soldier in a War. Talea here…” -he turns back to the woman, looking at her.
“...to my knowledge, amongst the most capable. We fight the same fight, Mistress of Thorns. Against the same enemy. The one who truly lords this place, not some human pretender. And losing you... I cannot allow that. Our enemy is beyond strong, and feeds on those who fall here constantly. And mortal means...not enough to stop him, cannot be enough. I've seen what you can do, by the power that the Night wields. But guess how many people dabble in those powers in this place? Not enough. I remember two, maybe three others...including you. You may understand what it is like when others might look at me as some sort of creepy weirdo with a gem in his eye."- he moved his cowl so that she could see the Blood Ruby firmly planted in his eye socket, almost replacing the eye that was taken from there long ago. It settled in.
“We can be of use to each other. Our masters may have their differences but I believe we may find a bridge over those. I’ve helped you once, I'm willing to do so again. What I'm not willing to do...is let the lack of self-preservation kill you when there are plenty of other less savory things willing to do so.”
He looks around for a bit, at the semi-empty streets.
“I suggest we continue this talk in the walls of Lekalis’s abode. I have a few gold coins to spare for his troubles, he may provide a perspective needed. And a bed to rest. If I find out that you’re staying in the grave-yard or something, I might become less restrained in my commentary.” - a threat, albeit an empty one...He hoped at least. Surely she wasn't spending her rest on cold soil close to the dead...Once he found out how easy it was to imagine such a thing he became a little scared.
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Post by EtherealNoire on May 10, 2020 21:41:12 GMT -8
[Talea]
Below the shadows and her silver scar, Talea's lips curled down in despondency. How could the mortal she seek be nay more than another pawn in the Malice's game? His noble countenance had beguiled her and lo, she had been led astray. Talea fell silent to her regret, too shaken by the revelation to acknowledge the whispers of power the Executant bestowed upon her.
The biting cold howled through the alleyway where it caught its tendrils on the fraying edges of the encroaching dwellings, and just as their splinters gave way beneath its wrath, so too did Talea's stance falter. Her tresses whipped about her slight frame as she trembled, their tousled lengths lashing against the wind and coiling around her arm when she brought a quivering hand to rest against the elder light-dweller's shield.
"He speaks truth."
Though she loathed those bitter notes, she knew none but she and Night who bore the same tenebrous aura as the man who beseeched her now. So great was the darkness that lurked within them that no longer could they share the nomenclature of 'Mortals'. Yea, they had become creatures of something else entirely: Beings of the Realms foregone.
"Our nature is not of thy land of light," she warned him, and tilted her head upwards to view his warm visage through the shade of his shield. "I thank thee for thy kindness, brave knight, but I must venture forth with the Executant alone."
A chill plucked at her heart, foreign and insuperable as its frost crept into her veins, yet she found herself both victim and thrall to its frigid charm. Though she feared the pact she was soon to accede and the repercussions certain to befall her, she could nay resist the allure of a knowledge meant to be forgotten. To vanquish the Malice, no path could be forsaken .
Letting her gaze drift once more to the Executant's prism eye, Talea lifted her palm to the verge of shadows that separated them, waiting for him to met her.
"I accept thy offer."
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