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Post by relentless on Apr 19, 2018 9:04:45 GMT -8
Libourg let out another scoff, this time it was more of an annoyed chorus of chuckles.
"Are you taking the piss? I have no GOLD! I can't get it checked if I have no gold pieces to get a remedy! Wha-, lest you think I should nip down to the Warrens once again, pick up some copper pieces and black plague to boot?!"
Libourg ranted on with a partially loud voice, wandering around in a circle before he stomped back into his original position, scowling.
"Or do you expect me to pander like a beggar? Or to steal from the donations of the Abbey?"
Libourg continued with a harsh voice, before he let out a defeated sigh, and scrunched his brow yet again under thumb and forefinger before he let out another sigh of air to relax himself, to an extent.
"It's just a rash, please it's just a rash. I'm caked head to toe in bloody metal, surely you can make an exception?"
Libourg persisted, staring the man down with a half degree of sadness and mercy, though his face was still contorted in irritation and distaste.
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Post by black379 on Apr 19, 2018 9:27:16 GMT -8
Courcy cocked her head at the rogue, lounging on the steps and carelessly puffing his smokes. She raised a brow curiously at Duval's questioning. Unsure if she didn't understand him, or if he simply wasn't making sense, she shrugged her shoulders in response.
"I dunno. He's not a bad guy. At least, I think so. I was plenty drunk that night." She chuckled and decided to sit beside Duval, on the side of the breeze, so as not to catch smoke in her face.
"What do you think? He'd be good for a lady. He's the warden after all." A man like Duval, Courcy suspected, might be more jealous than glad for his friend's pursuits. She didn't know what she might gain to stir him up, nor did she realize how poor of timing it was.
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Post by relentless on Apr 19, 2018 9:40:20 GMT -8
Duval gave out a short cackle at her question, looking up at her for a moment, before he looked straight ahead into the vast expanse of the hamlet and took another puff. Eventually he would set the rollup down slightly, before he cleared his throat after it had became dry from all the smoking.
"Eeeeh... he's a good laugh, not to mention a stocky kid for being in the army, but with his habit of drinkin' n all? Doubt he'd be good for... well, y'kno, putting a ring on it n' all that shite."
Duval was about to put his roll up in his mouth again, when a thought came to him, making him smirk.
"Ohoho, there was a time when he lost a game of cards, me' and another chum of mine found em' face first in a bowl of soup. Well, that and a bit of sick. Word of advice if ye decide to throw the bouquet? Don't challenge em to a drinkin' contest, you'll end up flat on yah arse and seein' sheep till the next few moons!"
He chuckled heartily again, before he shuffled down a bit to relax himself some more.
"Me and George though? Aye, we're good mates. Offered me a wee job to train some of the guards how to handle a bit ol' blackpowder! But eh, heard that Lekky fella owned the bathhouse just behind us, so now's I think I be working there."
Duval ended off with a mild grimace on his face, before he took another puff.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Apr 19, 2018 10:36:22 GMT -8
Nasuada has been watching the boy very carefully, letting him walk as much as he could so that when it was time to get him healed he would be too tired to stay awake and the doctors and such could do their work. Out of everything it was his wound that scared her the most, it was disgusting, terrifyingly disgusting, and made her dry heave a little anytime she looked at it.
When they made it to the Hamlet and Sicherlien had gone off to secure their pay, she very quietly vowed to chase her down if she dared run off with the prize, as despite what the others would want, she would pull whatever percentage the Sanitarium wanted from the thousand for his procedure. After all, the prize was going to be from him dead or alive, the others and herself could allow to be charitable. It helped none of them were actually hurt, except the knight of course, and she might let him have more from Sicherliens cut given her antics.
When Ibrahim picked up the child to help him, she was silently grateful that she would not have to fear about getting sick twice over, though she could tell the party was not in the best of health in terms of the inner workings compared to being hurt physically. But, there was still one last thing she needed to do, she walked up to Iver, staring him down with the most hatred and loathing anyone could see from her. Her fists were cleanched, but as she neared she opened her right hand and delivered a hefty slap across his stupid midget face.
“That was for everything, especially for even mentioning killing the child when you clearly wanted to help. Do some good and get yourself into a bath, you smell worse than the pigmen and the fishmen combined. Now if you excuse us, we have a child to save.” She said viciously, turning in seething pent up anger towards the Sanitarium to get the child a doctor for important medical help.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 19, 2018 11:27:28 GMT -8
Meriwether stayed quiet as the man flirted and flounced about in rage.
It was then that Meriwether practiced his best poker face, barring all amusement from his expression while he silently plotted, already, how he was going to tell the story to Balt the next time he'd see him.
"Nope, sorry, ser." Meriwether shook his curly-haired head. "Good luck."
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Post by relentless on Apr 19, 2018 11:31:55 GMT -8
Libourg stared blankly for a moment, his patience and emotions quite torn. But all in all, he was exhausted.
"-Grand..."
Libourg huffed, before he looked off to the Abbey, then to the Sanatorium, before he began to walk away from the guard.
"Thanks for nothing."
Libourg snapped back at the young guard, before he turned back fully around to make his way toward the Sanatorium, hoping he could get free treatment. Hopefully.
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Post by black379 on Apr 19, 2018 12:53:31 GMT -8
"What, marry him? I'm not that easy..." Courcy huffed and planted her hands on her hips indignantly. She winced and scooted some inches away as the man made another puff of smoke.
"But look at you, working for Blood in his baths." She snickered and pushed herself up to her feet again. "That's where I'm headed anyways. The Cove's no cleaner than the rest."
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Post by relentless on Apr 19, 2018 12:59:06 GMT -8
"Oh come now, didn't mean it like that... you look like a hard lass yourself, harder than George will be. Hehe..."
Duval ushered in an apology as she moved away, holding the roll up out toward her.
"Would you like a puff before you trot? Or are you not a smoker I take it?"
Duval posed as he waggled the smoke between his fingers toward Courcy, sitting up.
"Oh, and by the by... I noticed Mr Lekalis had soaps? All fancy like, haven't seen one in ages... which isn't to say that I haven't cleaned myself, I'll have you know I take good care of myself. But regardless, I could fetch them for you if need be? Free of charge, of course!"
Duval noted with a chuckle, rotating his shoulders. A sense of composure seemed to come back to his face, and it would appear the mans shakes had subsided.
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Post by black379 on Apr 19, 2018 13:18:04 GMT -8
"Oh, no. I don't." Courcy waved her hand dismissively at his offer. "There are better ways to choke yourself."
She sighed and glanced between the abbey's doorway and back to Duval. Intending to treat herself to a lavish bath, she was all for fancy soaps, perfumes, whatever she could find.
"Really, you'd be so kind? I think you just want to see me naked."
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Post by relentless on Apr 19, 2018 13:29:40 GMT -8
"Fair, fair... it ain't for everyone!"
Duval chuckled, flicking the rollup away into the bush. At her accusation, he chuckled.
"Well, nothing wrong with th- Oh god no, nothing like that."
The paleness returned, instead of a blush. The man nervously coughed, croaking even, before he anxiously chuckled as he slowly stood up to collect his overcoat.
"-Nah, I just feel like repaying you for taking George off my hands, at least for the moment. He's... busier, which is good. So it's either you did something, or the raid did."
Duval explained, beginning to slip on his overcoat, avoiding eye contact.
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Post by Unter on Apr 21, 2018 4:58:12 GMT -8
Nasuada has been watching the boy very carefully, letting him walk as much as he could so that when it was time to get him healed he would be too tired to stay awake and the doctors and such could do their work. Out of everything it was his wound that scared her the most, it was disgusting, terrifyingly disgusting, and made her dry heave a little anytime she looked at it. When they made it to the Hamlet and Sicherlien had gone off to secure their pay, she very quietly vowed to chase her down if she dared run off with the prize, as despite what the others would want, she would pull whatever percentage the Sanitarium wanted from the thousand for his procedure. After all, the prize was going to be from him dead or alive, the others and herself could allow to be charitable. It helped none of them were actually hurt, except the knight of course, and she might let him have more from Sicherliens cut given her antics. When Ibrahim picked up the child to help him, she was silently grateful that she would not have to fear about getting sick twice over, though she could tell the party was not in the best of health in terms of the inner workings compared to being hurt physically. But, there was still one last thing she needed to do, she walked up to Iver, staring him down with the most hatred and loathing anyone could see from her. Her fists were cleanched, but as she neared she opened her right hand and delivered a hefty slap across his stupid midget face. “That was for everything, especially for even mentioning killing the child when you clearly wanted to help. Do some good and get yourself into a bath, you smell worse than the pigmen and the fishmen combined. Now if you excuse us, we have a child to save.” She said viciously, turning in seething pent up anger towards the Sanitarium to get the child a doctor for important medical help. They finally arrived into the Hamlet. They were finally out of the pig's stench reach. They were finally out of danger. They were finally going to get paid. Iver rolled these sentences into his mind, a self-made spell against the faen excursions into these flaming tunnels. The worst is, he knew he would be going back someday. There was just too much gold to be made, and it's not like he had another place to go. As soon as they tresspassed on the Hamlet's territory, the knight fled to some place, murmuring into his iron clad beard. Sicherlein swayed her hips to go the Heir, apparently. This left Iver with the two crazies, Ibrahim and Nasuada. At least Ibrahim was not senseless : He took on the charge of delivering the kid to the Sanitarium. Good. Maybe he would survive, or maybe he would just die in his sleep, witnessing the horror of agony while the ghost of rot grovel on his arm, a putrid white ectoplasm that would ensure a slow and painful death. Nasuada however, seemed to put personal satisfaction over the kid's health. Amusing. She stood before him, eyes looking down on him with the most pathetic anger a human could achieve. And she slapped him ! The fact that someone like her slapped him more than the pain of the slap made him want to puke. And she said that he smelled ? This was truly pathetic. He wanted to laugh, in fact he did while he was rubbing his cheek. He made a step in her direction, his voice becoming louder and louder as she went away. "Is that so, Nasuada ? Were you upset I would kill your precious little bloodbag ? I saw how you were looking at him, you cold hearted bitch ! What would have happened if he stayed alone with you ? Would you have come back to this faen monolith ? Is the blood of a child a better sacrifice ?" He nearly spat the word sacrifice, showing his disdain. "May you rot in the deepest depth of this swamp !" He smiled at her, looking at her torn up robe, and went away. |
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Post by relentless on Apr 22, 2018 10:17:05 GMT -8
/Libourg/
The door was shut behind him, his sabatons carried him away and down the steps from the Sanatorium. He had wiped away that globe of water that had formed in his eye, and was more exhausted than ever. Emotionally and physically, and all he needed was to relax... let go of the reality of this hell for a moment. The armoured man made it to the ground floor of the streets once again, before his feet carried him to the epicenter of the center, the Ancestors Statue.
He leaned back, and plopped his weight down on the stone base of the statue facing the Blacksmith, with grace lacking, and exhaustion taking fruit. Putting down his helmet, and the bag of medical supplies, he let out an exasperated huff of momentary relief.
"Does it get worse?"
Libourg wondered to himself aloud, his fingers unconsciously scrawling into a tensed fist, before he produced a relaxed open palm once again. So much had happened, so many bad things had occured. Raids, death, arguments and a 'joke murder' is all that conspired in Libourgs mind. Though thankfully, the rash seemed to consistently knock those thoughts out of mind with the irritable itch that was slowly, but almost definitely getting to Libourg. Letting out a quiet but harsh curse under his breath, the man began the process of removing the front plate legging that was bound to his leg, with chainmail being second in line to be momentarily detached, and then his gamberson along with that so he could bind the herbal remedy around his thigh.
As went ahead with the familiar process of removing parts of his armour, he looked to the bridge and river, spotting the small Iver make his way into the Hamlet. For a moment, he watched with a chuckle at how he waddled, he found it... cute, something the crusader would think about another man in his lifetime. But sadly, the rash put him off again, making him focus entirely on getting his equipment off.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 22, 2018 10:26:08 GMT -8
Is this really necessary?
There was a particular, hatted rogue loitering a few yards' distance from the blacksmith, casting an anxious glance over at the building every now and then.
Her hands were flitting between one coat pocket and another, all stitched haphazardly across the fabric. She sounded out the numbers; she seemed to be counting.
It was quite a healthy chunk of coin, more than she'd have had herself, to be sure, but what Tilly was afraid of was how much would be leftover when all was said and done.
To build a house from its foundation, host a wedding, hire workers and now she had to buy cookware. If only she could just do one more expedition.
Tilly rubbed her jaw with a short, tense sigh, and deeply contemplated forgoing the crockery altogether and making do with skewers, sticks and stones and the like...
But she knew Lekalis wouldn't have it.
With a vengeful huff she kicked at a pebble that had the misfortune of being within proper distance of her boot.
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Post by relentless on Apr 22, 2018 10:34:48 GMT -8
/Libourg/
He was almost done getting the straps undone from behind his calf, when the pebble she had struck with her foot with righteous fury nicked him in the ankle, though thankfully his plate legging was still equipped. With the ting, Libourg looked down to see what had hit him, then to his plate legging.
There was indeed a small scratch on his plate legging, though nothing major,and he looked up with a nasty frown to see who had kicked it, only to witness Tilly floundering about. Expression relaxed, the man huffed, and continued to undo his armour.
"Nice kick Tilly. Though the footwork could be better..."
He offhandedly remarked enough volume in his voice to make himself known, with a smirk added alongside as he glanced up at her from the blacksmith.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 22, 2018 10:39:00 GMT -8
At the sight of him, Tilly braced herself; she did not look back on her conversations with Libourg, specifically in the events following the raid, with much fondness.
She made an uncomfortable smile at Libourg and tipped her hat.
"But it didn't miss, it seems!" Chirped Tilly, slipping her hands back into her pockets with some brewing fretfulness as she glanced back to the blacksmith's.
"How's the day treating you, then?"
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