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Post by rosallora on Jul 14, 2020 8:35:30 GMT -8
[The Heir]
The man steps back, nodding. "Ah - yes. You may." The bedroom beyond looked more or less a study, dusty papers littering the floor and a few candles lit that implied that he had been in a deep, nighttime-study when the bounty hunter had arrived. The man steps away towards his notes, taking up a small sheaf of them and tapping them on the desk, as if in silent apology for the mess of it all. Bottles lined the floor near the walls, in various states of emptiness. The entire room smelled of dust and lost decadence. A generation ago, maybe two or three, it would have gleamed with care, the very picture of opulence. Now, it was a craggy reminder of what was.
"I see you have a hand. I'm assuming it's a bandit hand."
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Post by EloHim on Jul 14, 2020 8:43:07 GMT -8
[Volundr]
"-But you were there for him, weren't you? He died, but thanks to you he didn't die alone. He didn't die a leper, sick shell left alone by all. He died a human, thanks to you. He said so himself, didn't he? And that is something. Something good."- he was getting through to her that much was certain... Maybe the worst was avoided.
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Post by rosallora on Jul 14, 2020 8:53:00 GMT -8
[Toustain]
Her breath shakes as she takes another breath. "...He died... f-falling apart at the seams, eaten by disease." She looks at him. Seriously. There's fear shining in her eyes. "Volundr I... he asked me to. To take him somewhere, I thought it was to die. There were bandits. I gave him white linen to dress himself in and he was clean. And I absolved him of his sins. And there was a cave. And I..." she straightens her shoulders. She doesn't want to be ashamed of this one act, this one sign. "I made... I made Light. The head of my mace glowed like a torch when he said he needed p-passage. And I v-ventured in... with him."
She rubs her chest in that same, worried way she has been. "There was some evil in there - a man that Roard toppled to the ground, it was so fast. And he was dead, and then... he. He wasn't. Himself. Any more."
She looks away. "Some dark magic... he was no longer diseased. Reborn, I swear it, I saw it with my own eyes. A man, undiseased, smiling. He said he saw my face clearly, now. He liked my freckles." Her eyes water. "And I thought the Light had bestowed on him another life. A good life. I thought I was doing something Good, Volundr, that I had helped something happen, something righteous. A second chance for him, another shot to live as a human, but." She presses her lips together, tight, so much they pale and she grimaces, shaking against her breathing. "I-It was barely a week after and h-his skin was... was f-falling off of his... off his bones and his... his mu-uscles were... the fingers, on the ground..."
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Post by Kidney on Jul 14, 2020 16:14:59 GMT -8
[The Heir] The man steps back, nodding. "Ah - yes. You may." The bedroom beyond looked more or less a study, dusty papers littering the floor and a few candles lit that implied that he had been in a deep, nighttime-study when the bounty hunter had arrived. The man steps away towards his notes, taking up a small sheaf of them and tapping them on the desk, as if in silent apology for the mess of it all. Bottles lined the floor near the walls, in various states of emptiness. The entire room smelled of dust and lost decadence. A generation ago, maybe two or three, it would have gleamed with care, the very picture of opulence. Now, it was a craggy reminder of what was. "I see you have a hand. I'm assuming it's a bandit hand."
He quickly abandoned the effort as The Heir questioned him, and walked to toss the hand and the flyer on the desk with a weak thump. The stump has scabbed, seemingly in places attached to the flyer now, dark vermilion forever a mark on the yellowed page. "I have been in this area less than two hours and I nearly lost my kidney." His voice was very particular, and extremely specific in word choice. He gestured vaguely to his side, where a small darkened spot seemingly lingered on the outside of his dark armor. "Indeed. Its the bandit that attacked me's hand. He was very unlucky to find me, and not a common man, or a common family." He was rough in that last bit, judging, but determined, as if his next words were going to give The Heir a solution.
Instead, for the moment, he reached and pulled forth a rolled bit of paper from the bandoleer on his chest. He extended this page to The Heir himself, if he were not quick enough, Dane would simply let it fall to the surface of the desk. "Your efforts are misguided in its attempts to delve into ruins or warrens in search of Glory and Gold." He began, pointing to the paper. "On that page is a bounty. For you." He aimed a finger at the chest of the man, and looked to him. "I haven't attached myself to it, because I do not believe you are worthy of Death." Yet.
"The Bandits must be dealt with. I want a cut." He said next, sniffing the hand that he had held the bandit's digits with. "What are your current efforts in the region? A squad of men? A militia force? Hm?" |
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Post by rosallora on Jul 14, 2020 16:34:34 GMT -8
[The Heir]
The man was flabbergasted. "A bounty on MY head?" He shuffles forward, all tiredness forgotten, the labor of the day gone from his face as he pursues the reading of the paper. He takes it up into his hand, squinting against the night, then brings the candle closer to read by. "By writ of... Master Vernerald... a bounty of ten THOUSAND gold pieces for the head of the Master of the Hamlet nigh over the hill, who dos-" he squints "-it's misspelled. Who DOES, thank you, reside in the ruins left behind by his forebears'."
The man slumps into a chair behind the desk, putting a hand to his temple. "By every dark ritual and holy rite, what else must I deal with..." He hears however, the man's question. "My efforts... a hired band of mercenaries. Stalwart. Bloodied. Paid by the tasks they complete, by writs on the bounty board. Missions out into the surrounding lands, MY lands. And bit by bit they hack away at the bloated thorns that encroach upon my family's estate."
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Post by Kidney on Jul 14, 2020 16:43:48 GMT -8
Dane watched the man, analyzed his dire reaction, and sneered. "Feh." He offered, turning away from the man to spy the bottles by the corner again. Maybe he was as drunk on booze as he seemingly was on his own ego. "Undisciplined." He said, in mention of the mercenaries. He barely had registered their existence before he decided his despised them. Parsel-work for the destruction of evil men and their evil ways. He looked back to the Heir, and gave him one long look-over. Expeditions...gross.
"Krosis...for my untimely arrival." He said, taking a backstep towards the door. "Judging by how easy it was to get into your mansion, i'd suggest higher security...for your sake, and the sake of your seat of power." He said the final bit with a bit of steel in his mind, if this man was as much of a straw leader as he seemed to be, perhaps he could be overthrown. He spoke one final call to action, as close to advice as he would offer.
"Tell the mercenaries the Bandits must be dealt with first. They are thinking, understanding...real. And they are coming." He turned promptly, and left a single yellow petal by the door as he exited through it, and walked right out of the home, and back to the Square.
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Post by EloHim on Jul 15, 2020 12:53:33 GMT -8
[Volundr]
He hears her story and thinks to himself… looking aside for a moment. After she’s done with her story, he remembers the tale he heard from the greek mercenary. It fit the situation, terribly so.
“A tale of Ikar. He flew too close to the sun, everything seemed fine... and then his wings made of wax and feathers melted away and he fell to his death.”
He then looks at her. He could not imagine the things she must’ve seen with her eyes. And he wished he could offer something to ease the burden...but he only had words.
“My mother told me that dark magic is unable to make miracles happen without consequences...and if a miracle does happen - you will always pay the price for it, unless you already did so beforehand. And the price is always horrible. Roard… became human for a moment, but it seems that whatever time he had left in his life prior was taken from him... He did this to himself, unknowingly.”
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Post by rosallora on Jul 15, 2020 21:58:20 GMT -8
[Toustain]
"I didn't stop him," she says, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I didn't know it was what we were there for but I should have felt it. And then I should have been disgusted, I should have known that it was bad, I KNEW it was bad and yet I was so, so willing..." she sniffs.
"He held me in his arms," she says softly, her voice small. "I've never felt as safe as I did, then."
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Post by EloHim on Jul 17, 2020 19:23:30 GMT -8
[Volundr]
"You hoped it would all be alright. That maybe it will be different. Just this one time."- Hope was the first step on the road to disappointment. But at the same time necessary to some people.
He wished he would know what else to say. He wished that he would be able to spell away the pain.
"Treasure those memories, that's my advice. He wouldnt want you to suffer."
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Post by rosallora on Jul 17, 2020 20:01:32 GMT -8
[Toustain]
She sniffs, and then nods. She grows... quiet. She doesn't want to suffer. But she is. And it hurts, like a knife that she can't draw out of her chest. "I just... don't... it just hurts, Volundr." She takes a deep breath. "I wish it didn't. How... how long will this last?"
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Post by EloHim on Jul 19, 2020 13:37:57 GMT -8
[Volundr]
"I know it does...It's like a wound you can't get to. Time is the only cure. And even I don't know how much time must pass before it finally stops hurting. It's different from person to person. For me...it was like two months...or more. Hard to remember when I finally woke up and realised how fucked up my life got thanks to the choices I made in an attempt to block the pain out."- he is honest. That is the only courtesy he could offer Toast in these times. If he chose differently back then - he probably wouldn't even be here.
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Post by rosallora on Jul 19, 2020 14:44:58 GMT -8
[Toustain]
"Block the pain out," she echoes softly. She'd... pushed away Grace. Was that a mistake? Grace had even said... where was she? Like she was searching for someone else in Toustain's body, like she was a fake, a different Her. She doesn't know what it means, not quite. It makes an empty, hollow sound in her chest. Something dropping, unhitching. She doesn't know. It isn't coming together.
She should still hold them at arm's length. This was enough hurt, wasn't it? This was enough for now, this was more than she wanted to carry. So she would be careful and be serviceable and good but just. Not... not as she was. Not in this dangerous way. "I'll still be good," she says, to him, her eyes darting to the side to meet them. Like she wanted to convince him of her charity or kindness, like there was a lacking thing in her that somehow only she and him would be able to see. "I just..." how does she explain it?
A breath. "...There's business to be done." Then, quieter. "Someone has to tell Roard's Lord that he is. Gone." She swallows. Nods, slowly. "Maybe it will. Maybe it will help the ache."
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Post by black379 on Jul 20, 2020 20:45:50 GMT -8
Adeney knew too little to be comfortable with simply disposing of the diseased body. How was the corpse infected? Was it contagious? At least it seemed that Andy had come to fetch him promptly, despite what little else he shared.
He was led past an old mill house, downstream from its water wheel. The large cadaver lay crumpled in a firepit, much of his torso had already burnt to a crisp. The doctor was glad to have donned his mask before arriving. His beak shielded from the sour fumes of Roard's fungal corpse.
"Oh dear." Adeney sighed as he approached the body. The man was bulkier than he had anticipated.
"This will be some work. We'd better start then. Do you have some coverings for your hands?" He questioned Andy.
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Post by EloHim on Jul 24, 2020 11:24:33 GMT -8
[Volundr]
"Yeah...don't do that. I became a person I hated the most...And then the regret rolled in."- he’s honest about that too. The whole thing is...was... fucked up. He was able to recover from that...but by then it was already too late. But it wasn't too late for her.
"I get it, Toast. You don't want to experience that pain again. No one ever does.”- he pats her on the head yet again. He needs to be sure that she wouldn't do anything...drastic. Like go out alone into the woods looking for some “redemption”.That was his only concern.
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Post by rosallora on Jul 24, 2020 12:31:50 GMT -8
[Toustain]
The pat on her head - she doesn't know what to feel about it in the moment, but the warmth that it leaves makes her feel like it shouldn't have happened. She shouldn't be touched - shouldn't be accepting this comfort. As her tears dry, awareness returns to her, like it was a tide pulling her out to sea. She needs to get herself under control. She needs to have a sense of, well. Pride? No, not pride, pride was sinful. A sense of... restraint, maybe. Or composure. She certainly didn't have a lot of composure.
"...I'll feel better when it... doesn't hurt so much," she settles on, drawing back a bit, her arms folded over her chest. Her face felt stiff and terrible from crying.
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