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Post by ricarditoreyes on Jun 7, 2020 22:29:52 GMT -8
Once his offer for help was approved, the young man extended his elbow in a discrete manner. He was no doctor, and thus offering himself as support was the best he could do at this point. His eyes widened as he heard the mention of a raid. As outlandish and cruel as the nuns at his home town were, even they knew better than to put themselves in the front lines of battle. Strange. However, he knew better than to judge one's ability in combat based off of nothing more than first impressions.
"Another mission eh? I'd keep that for later if I were you. Your leg don't seem fit for any sorta mission." As he finished, a strange, yet familiar, feeling arose inside of him. It was the thirst for adventure and danger. The very feeling that brought him to this squalid Hamlet in the first place. Drinking his cares away was getting boring at this point. Besides, whatever dangers the infamous dungeons held wouldn't judge him for his alcoholic tendencies. At least, that's what he thought. "But, if this mission is real important to ya..." A short pause. Reconsideration. He decided to go with the offer anyways. "I'd be glad to come along and help out. An extra pair o' hands couldn't hurt, yeah?" he says with utmost sincerity. At the inquiry of whether or not he has been out to the Estate proper, the answer sprung to mind. It was easy, albeit embarrassing. He had only been to the Tavern and had walked around the streets. The thought of leaving and heading into danger for gold and glory, the very thought that brought him here, never arose as soon as he entered the Hamlet. "Nah. Haven't seen that place yet." he answers in a quieter and almost shameful tone.
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Post by rosallora on Jun 8, 2020 9:11:21 GMT -8
"I don't think I'm going anytime soon," she admits. And his words were encouraging, but she didn't think that she could... no. Not with Roland and Harina. He might be equipped, but they were of a completely different caliber. And not a caliber that she even fit. She was a few steps behind them, and who knew what the man she was with was capable of. What she did know, is he was capable of a little chivalry. Toustain takes his arm, a slightly apologetic but mostly thankful smile on her face.
"As far as the mission... I'm sure they'll be fine without me. I'm just a vestal - still learning how to wield my mace, and I don't even have that much experience outside the Estate proper. I'd say don't be in a rush to go out there, but if you're here for killing monsters, then. It's where you want to go." She walks with him, and there was a sense that she knew where she was and where she was going, even if she didn't have an exact destination in mind. She was just grateful for the air, and the evening. And company.
"I wish I could go after the bandits," she admits. "They broke into the abbey. Nearly shattered my leg - I was woken up in a rush from the sound, I didn't even have time to put on armor. I just ran! And just - well. It wasn't good enough."
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Post by ricarditoreyes on Jun 8, 2020 9:31:19 GMT -8
As Joseph walked with the woman, he was sure to put his own thoughts on hold to clearly hear what she was saying. What interested the young man most was the Vestal's ability in combat and the nature of this mission. The thought seemed so outlandish to him. His interest was peaked. Apparently Vestals in this place fought using maces. So, he was right not to assume that the woman could not hold her own in battle. She didn't make it sound like she was too skilled in melee combat. However, she did seem like the humble type. No conclusion could be drawn on the woman's actual skill in combat.
A look of disappointment crossed Joseph's face as he heard his offer declined in a very polite manner. "Aye. My apologies for prying" he said blankly. He was knocked out of his sad state of mind rather quickly at the mention of the attack on the Abbey. The young man couldn't quite be described as a god-fearing church goer, but he himself was still surprised at how oblivious he was to the situation. "Curses..." he said, in a quieter tone. "If I can't help you out on yer mission, then at least let me at these bandit scum. Gettin' tired of sitting around this place anyways. You happen to know where they've gone?" he asks, his eagerness to go after said bandits quite apparent at this point.
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Post by rosallora on Jun 8, 2020 9:41:57 GMT -8
[Toustain]
She looks up. "I'm not sure... but with everything that's happened, I'm sure someone will be getting a group together to go after them. It can't go unanswered. They came from the woods." She pauses a moment in her speaking, thinking it through. "There's a bounty board in the main square - it advertises the opportunities. Maybe someone's put up a posting for it. Of course, it might take a few days..." she looks towards the Ancestor's statue as they pass it. There was still a darkness to the spaces between the cobbles that she could see - day old blood. The man's steady arm was a welcome thing to have for the moment, even if in normal circumstances she'd never take it.
"If you stick around the square, though... who knows. Maybe it'll just be a mob." She sounds tired, maybe a bit scared, talking about it. Her eyes travel over the space, alighting on its small and sordid landmarks. "Some of them are brutish enough for it. I can imagine the torches, the pitchforks. They came for us in the night, why not us for them? But we'd get lost in those tangled woods..."
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Post by dewdrop on Jun 8, 2020 10:24:08 GMT -8
The musket slung around her back, Cyrus hefted her trunk with one hand and took a step back from the stagecoach carriage. She sighed. This was it. Cyrus supposed that she lived here now... in this grim, filthy little town. There was something about the place that reminded her of home. No doubt the Hamlet had seen better days. Cyrus wondered what it had looked like then. Had children played in the streets? Did music spill out from the tavern? Cyrus scratched at her head.
A voice made her jump- mostly because Cyrus felt it was addressed at her. Cyrus turned in place to face the source of the voice. She was taken aback by the sight of woman almost as tall as she was. Blood had seeped into her torn and tattered attire. Where had she come from? Looking around, Cyrus rubbed the back of her head nervously. The same warning from anyone else would have been easily dismissed, but by this woman? It made Cyrus uneasy.
"Already collected my things," Cyrus said sheepishly. "Here t'stay if it's all the same with you." In truth, Cyrus had nowhere to go back to, but she wasn't ready to admit that. Not to a strange, and most of all, not to herself.
She set the trunk of twisted metal and patchy peasant's clothes down onto the ground, before offering a hand. "Do you need bandaging? Can't say I'm much of a surgeon, but I've closed up my fair share of cuts an' scrapes if it's alright with you."
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Post by ricarditoreyes on Jun 8, 2020 10:36:08 GMT -8
The woods. The entirety of the Hamlet alone could easily cause Joseph to lose track of his whereabouts and get lost. As they passed through the square, the man's eyes were fixed on the Tavern. Thoughts of a stiff drink and a warm meal beckoned so sweetly. Bah. These thought served only to cloud his mind, Joseph said to himself internally. "Yes, o' course, the board. Very well then. I'll give it a go later." It was hard to focus. The young man was distracted once again when his stomach rumbled quietly. Being sure not to startle the woman, he subtly grabbed his stomach, as if to try and make it stop just so he could continue to enjoy the moment a bit longer.
"Well, mob or not, those scum will pay for what they did here." he said, a sense of overconfidence overcoming his senses. Surely, he could handle a few bandits, right? Either way, he was determined to head out. Not like this place offered much more than a few drinks to pass time and a few dirty alleyways where he could walk and contemplate life on his lonesome. "I have to say, it sure is nice to have a friend 'ere." he said, sincerely. Isolation was nice, but he seemed to forget what it was like to have a friend to talk to. "Thank you, dearly. Tonight's been a pleasure. Although... it did begin rather strangely if I do say so meself."
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Post by rosallora on Jun 8, 2020 10:47:43 GMT -8
She smiles goodnaturedly - though she does recognize the familiar sight of a man attempting not to look as hungry as he was. Toustain has a small pouch, and from it she drew twenty gold. Quite the amount, for someone of her profession. She glances to the tavern, and then back to him. "I think... it's very good to have friends too. And it's very important that friends ensure friends are fed." She doesn't want to assume that he'd rather have a cup of stew at the abbey, after all.
"I should return to the abbey. But here-" she foists the gold upon him with graceless intention, pushing it into his hand so that he couldn't refuse it "-take this. Fill your belly, listen to a tale or two. I don't go into the tavern often myself, but it's enough to warm the spirit, right? Light watch over you, Joseph. Especially if you do go after the ruffians. Give them a good smack for me!" She laughs, breaking away from him. She cinches up the pouch at her side, step faltering slightly as she goes. But the vestal catches herself fine, and she starts into a little uneven walk, glancing behind to wave her farewell.
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Post by ricarditoreyes on Jun 8, 2020 10:56:20 GMT -8
Before he could react, the vestal had already pushed the money into his hands. "I really shouldn't-" he blurted out. It was too late to give it back at this point, and she seemed adamant on letting him have it anyways. "Why, thank you dearly!" he said, overjoyed. "You don't have to worry about them bandits no more, I'll take good care of em. I'll be sure they regret messing with ya leg." he states, letting out a short chuckle afterwards. "It's been a pleasure. I wish you a good night. And, well, you know where to find me if you need anything". As he finishes with his goodbye, hunger finally overcomes him and causes him to rush into the Tavern.
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Post by rosallora on Jun 8, 2020 11:05:24 GMT -8
[Aurora]
The woman scoffs, giving the woman in front of her a good once-over, an up-down that isn't even concealed by the khol around her eyes. "If it's all the same to me. What the hell do I care, all the same to me. I'm WARNING you. This is actually for your own good, you little - polished up..." her voice trails off slightly at the mention of bandaging up. "...Well. This doesn't change the circumstances - you shouldn't be here - none of us should be," she puffs her indignance. "But I am. Wounded. And my clothes are just ruined. Ruined!" She looks down at herself, her silk in shreds and splotched with blood. "I'm going to have to replace the whole set and I know that no one here in this backwater little Hamlet to make the finery I require!"
She sighs, or more huffs, dramatically. "...But in the interest of not bleeding out, I suppose.. I could allow you to tend to me."
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Post by dewdrop on Jun 8, 2020 11:27:04 GMT -8
Clearly enough, this woman was out of sorts. Back from an expedition, perhaps? Cyrus had heard some stories of the dangers of this dread place. She wasn't sure if she believed even half of them, in truth. Monstrous beasts and slavering aberrations? It all sounded like the sorts of stories her brothers might tell her to give her a scare.
Still, anxiety was beginning to seize her. Cyrus felt as though there were a weight on her shoulders, and a squeezing tightness in her chest. She swallowed it down. Surely, this was some sort of hazing ritual... and on the off chance that it wasn't, Cyrus was sure that she had seen worse horrors. War wrought all manner of terrible wounds. Yawning gashes and messy ruptures in the flesh, and worse than that besides.
"Sorry I don't know nothin' about the seamstress' craft. Otherwise I'd offer to lend a hand for those, er- silks, as well," Cyrus said. She'd never seen silk in person. Her eyes lingered on the other woman's torn, bloodied attire a moment, before she cleared her throat. "Y'can rub some dirt in those little scrapes. Are the bigger wounds still bleeding? If not, I can get'em washed out and wrapped up right here."
Cyrus fished around in the pouches at her belt. She always kept some field dressings on hand, usually for herself. Cyrus couldn't stand the sight of her own blood. "You, uh... you don't strike me as a soldier or mercenary of any kind. What is fair lady doing in a place like this one, if you don't mind me asking?"
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Post by EloHim on Jun 8, 2020 14:28:45 GMT -8
[Volundr]
He looks at Darrio...at the gun in his hands. Gears a grinding, battle scenarios get played out in the warriors head. Not all of them he survives. He has a chance though. But...would he put his money on it?
"Hammer to the gunfight...nah, I don't like those odds."- he puts the hammer away after awhile. He does not put away his shield though. There was a saying: either you are with a shield or you are on the shield. He prefered to stay with the former.
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Post by rosallora on Jun 8, 2020 19:31:48 GMT -8
[Aurora]
"It's such a tale. A tragic tale. An awful, awful tale." She sighs, then turns her head to the side, white curls still detaching themselves slightly from the ridiculous updo her wig was fashioned into. "I'll tell you when we're somewhere... away from prying eyes." She looks left, right, and pulls the shredded silk seam to cover a part of her side that was scandalously exposed by the wounding. "As far as the Dirt. Maybe we'll try a different approach first. I'm not sure about the larger wounds, only that they hurt terribly. Terribly, awfully... just awful."
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Post by dewdrop on Jun 8, 2020 19:47:12 GMT -8
An awful tragic tale? That sounded familiar to Cyrus. She was sure plenty of folks would find it much the same. This place didn't strike her as the sort that good, happy people came to. The thought made Cyrus frown, though only briefly. Cyrus couldn't dwell on the past now, not when her new acquaintance was in bloody tatters, both in attire and in the flesh.
"Right," Cyrus said, nodding. She picked her heavy trunk up off the ground. "Is there a place hereabouts? I've only just arrived... sure you figured that much, though." Cyrus' eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the stranger's side- until she covered it up, that is. Cyrus quickly looked away, clearing her throat once again.
"I don't suppose the tavern is open? Or if there's a church in this wretched town?" she asked.
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Post by rosallora on Jun 8, 2020 19:54:51 GMT -8
[Aurora]
"Let's not trouble the Religious Folk," she says, a spit of acid on her tongue. "They'd likely kick me out for being as wounded as I am! Because of the scandalous nature of the cuts, you see. They'd look and they'd say it was my own fault, being torn up as I am. The hypocrites." She bunches the fabric together with her hands, causing a rip to be accentuated over on the other side. The woman looks at the new, offending opening with the rage of one about ready to rip the rest apart out of pure hatred of the situation.
"Come - a room will do us fine. The tavern, yes, we can - come along." She waves and walks, her pace fast despite the pain. If she can con some woman into paying for a bed for a night, she'll do it. A bit of gold saved in this case was some gold well-earned by her superior acting ability.
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Post by dewdrop on Jun 8, 2020 20:06:53 GMT -8
"I know folk of the faith can a fickle bunch," Cyrus said, one hand holding her trunk aloft and the other on the strap of her musket, where it crossed her chest. Her father hadn't been much of a religious man, and Cyrus followed his lead, as she had been wont to do then. Cyrus wasn't altogether sure what had become of him.
Cyrus had to avert her eyes from the woman completely as the taut seams of her outfit tore on the other side of her. The last thing Cyrus needed to do was embarrass herself, especially after knocking her head getting out of the stagecoach. She wondered if that was beginning to bruise yet or not. At the least, Cyrus hoped there wouldn't be a lump.
"Could you lead the way?" Cyrus asked, walking along behind her. "Er- well, I suppose you are right now. Scratch that..." Her voice trailed off. It was then that Cyrus finally realized she didn't even know this woman's name, and she didn't know her's. "I'm Cyrus by the way. Cyrus Delafosse."
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