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| [P] The Missing Piece; Private; Shan | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun Oct 9, 2011 4:07 pm (694 Views) | |
| Tristram | Sun Oct 9, 2011 4:07 pm Post #1 |
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The journey had left something to be desired in the way of eventfulness, to be sure. Even on the last stretch of road, with Taras in the distance, not so much as a minor highwayman had disturbed their journey to the coast. There was relatively little trouble following the riverside path and the roads between towns, resupplying at each and setting up camp on the side of the road at dark. Nicholas was somewhat disappointed and relieved, in equal parts. The man had been hoping for something to dub this journey an 'adventure', but very little could mark it as such. But relief came in the form of his not having to show how very inept he actually had become with a sword. Or that his sword was fake. The first steps into the ruins sent a chill up his spine, pausing to shiver. He looked around the wreckage. Even though the rubble had been cleared from the streets and the ruined houses, there was much left to do. Three houses in sight were in the process of being rebuilt, though nobody were working at them today. “It's been a long time, Shan.” He spoke quietly. Looking to the left, he started walking, drawn as if by a magnet, walking on not entirely of his own free will. Turning into the network of streets and alleys, he was nearly dashing at full speed over the more concentrated rubble deeper into the poorer housing grouped near the markets. The refugee camp was on the far side of this part of Taras, but he had no intention of going that far. Tristram stopped cold in the street, head lowered, too scared to lift his gaze. |
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| Shan Orison | Sun Oct 9, 2011 7:21 pm Post #2 |
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Shan scrambled after Cole, with the distinct disadvantage of having no idea what there destination was. They're trip here had been mercilessly uneventful, but now Cole moved like a man possessed, which he probably was, in a way. He finally stopped in a ruined street, untouched by the restoration efforts. It was a stone building with burnt timber supports, its exterior scorched and cracked. The door was missing, and what Shan could see of the interior was dark and just as ruined. "Is...um," Shan started to say. Of course this was the place. People don't look so lost and downcast for simple masonry in disrepair. Cole couldn't even bring himself to look at it, preferring to inspect the cart ruts in the street. Shan stood silently in the background, allowing the man a chance for quiet reflection- "Well, well, well, what've we got here?," A booming voice said from down the street. Shan turned to see a couple of what looked like guardsmen, but the sort that asked questions like "What've we got here?", had nice shiny breastplates, bright uniforms, and one - an officer, Shan suspected - had plumes on his helmet. They had the look of men filled with boredom and an urge for harassing some harmless hoodlums, such as himself and Cole. "A couple of looters, bold as you please," continued the officer, a smirk on his face. "Usually you scum at least wait to do your thieving at night. I think its best you two come quietly, unless you want to resist arrest and make my day interesting." He touched the hilt of his sword, which was a bit much in Shan's opinion. Shan was still not certain if they were official guards. He did know he probably didn't want to go with these men. They looked the sort to kick a man in the fork when he was down. "I think we have a problem." Shan tried diplomacy. "We're not looters, sir," Shan said, his hands in the air. "My friend actually lived here, and he's just looking for some of his belongings. That's all, sir" "Loitering with intent, looting, and now lying to an officer?" said Plumes. He pulled out a truncheon and beat it rhythmically against his palm. "My, my, such serious charges. Best you two come along now." "Um, Cole? I think we have a problem." |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 10, 2011 12:31 am Post #3 |
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Cole pinched the bridge of his nose, cupping his elbow as he stood before the ruins. Looking up at the charred timbers, he took a deep breath, holding it in. Stepping over the door frame, he sorted through the top layer of rocks. There were no scattered valuables, someone had already sorted through the rocks. Realizing he was still holding his breath, Nicholas released it and concentrated on making sure he was breathing. If he didn't, he would probably forget, attention devoted to something else. Wooden boards had been pried up in the corner of the bottom floor, exposing the earth below. Two rounded rocks sat upright, side-by-side, on the bare earth. A headstone. Nicholas gave a choked cry at the sight, reaching to place a hand on the stones. Looking to the side, he saw the marred corner of a wooden box. Reaching for it, he pried the box from beneath the stone. He flicked the clasp and lifted the lid. It was nearly empty, the only item in it being a silver locket, which had been left behind by whomever had looted the rest. The journals were gone. He lowered his head, wrapping his fingers around the locket. It held a lock of his daughter's hair, all that he had left now. Their bodies had been long carted off by the healers. “Well, well, well, what've we got here? “ Tristram froze at the voice, still hunched over the markers and the empty box. Pooling the fine chain into his palm, he closed a fist around it, hiding it from view. He stood to face the guardsmen, wiping a tear from his cheek, finding them soaked. “Best you two come along.” Tristram cleared his throat. “Peace, officer. No lies are being told here. I am the son of Captain Leander Tristram, I'm sure he'd vouch for me.” The other guard, lower ranked by the look of him, laughed. “If you were any son of his, you'd know he's long gone. Hasn't come back sice he was carted off two years ago with that wicked-looking demon burn he got.” Tristram felt a mixture of anger and confusion. He hadn't been in contact with anyone, not knowing what had become of his family after the attack, being carted off himself. “And now you're going through the family's home? Got no shame, have ya?” The guard mocked. Nicholas felt a spark of fury ingite in his breast, all his confusion and sorrow building up, feeding the fire. Clenching his fist made several links of the chain slip through his fingers. The officer noticed, hefting his club. “What's that you've got there? Best give that to us.” He waved at him. The guard walked forward, his hand darting to take the chain. Grunting, Nicholas jerked his hand out of the way and clutched the chain to his breast. “Don't. You. Dare.” He hissed. “Ohh, gonna fight the guard now, are we?” He pulled out his own club, shoving Cole in the chest and taking a half hearted swing, knocking the man off balance. He hit the ground, grip loosened as he stopped himself falling. The guard reached and looped two fingers through the chain, pulling at it. Tristram remembered what his mother had taught him of the human body and how to manipulate it for healing purposes. His hand glowed hot and shot forward, clapping the man on the hip and digging his fingers in. The man yelped, darting forward with his club. Leaning back on his shoulder blades, Leander brought his knee close and kicked hard, striking the guard in the hip. He screamed. “That's your pelvis shatt--” He hissed, cut off with a crunching sound as the officer's truncheon struck him in the back of the head. His vision flashed and darkened, hitting the cobblestone, out cold. |
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| Shan Orison | Mon Oct 10, 2011 2:46 am Post #4 |
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"Oh, dear," Shan muttered when Cole hit the cobbles. Well, there went hope for a peaceful resolution. He kept his hands raised and gave a worried smile. "So you gonna try to be a though guy like your friend, or are you coming quiet-like?" the guard asked, giving Cole's prone body a kick. "Um, could I say something in my defense? I'm just a bard, really. Just checking out the city, or what's left of it." "That sounds like resisting arrest to me," said Plumes, then he began to walk closer, he and his men stepping over Cole's body and advancing with purpose. Well, Shan had been backed into a corner. He had no choice now. Shan concentrated, letting his eyes close as he focused on the weight and feel of his violin and bow, the two materializing into solid reality in his hands. He quickly brought both into position, and began to play. The tune was simple and lighthearted, but he had the Annoyance enchantment in play, and so each note was barbed with a extra tiny edge that filed against the ear. Th guards stopped in their tracks to cover there ears. "What in the-STOP THAT RACKET!" Plumes yelled, overcompensating his volume by quite a bit since Shan wasn't even playing loudly. "Sorry, I'm afraid things might turn violent if I do. More violent, I mean," Shan began to hum his Healing spell, but instead of discharging the energy from his hands or in his body, he weaved the spell into the notes of his music. It would help the guard with the broken hip somewhat, since Shan couldn't narrow his target and annoy the guards to a standstill, but the magic should work on Cole, healing him and hopefully awakening him. The spelled music seemed to concentrate his spells marvelously over a wide area. As long as no new guards showed up, Shan hoped Cole would wake up and they could run for it, since Shan had no chance of dragging him at any appreciative speed. |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 10, 2011 3:25 am Post #5 |
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Cole lay still on the stones, a small amount of blood dripping from the spot he'd been struck. As the guards and Shan opposed each other, one among the small group of guards was covering her ears, shaking her head in disappointment. Instead of the polished breastplate and weapon, the dark-haired woman wore a white robe, soft leather shoes replacing the heavy boots. The injured guard remained on the ground, seeming shocked, sweat forming on his brow. He looked ready to vomit at any moment, continually trying to get weight off the broken bones, but every movement only made it worse, splintering the extremely degraded bone. Shan's healing spell did little to help the severe injury, easing the pain and stopping any further damage from being caused. Cole began to wake, the bleeding having stopped and healed, but the damage caused by the head blow was by no means a quick fix. Eyes fluttering open, he quickly tried to shield them, arms moving sluggishly and with poor aim. Groaning, he rolled on his side. The healer broke from the group, dashing to kneel by Nicholas. She gingerly felt around the wound, checking to make sure his skull wasn't cracked. Seemingly satisfied, she turned his head to face her, studying his features more than anything else. “I'm taking this man into my custody, officer. Use of extreme force was unnecessary.” She reached for his hand to take the locket, which had slipped from his grasp and remained due to a loop of chain around his little finger. Instinctively, Cole closed his fist, holding on. “There there, I'm just putting it in your pocket. Don't want to lose it.” He held his grip for a second before his fingers unfurled. True to her word, the woman tucked the silver locket into the breast pocket of his vest. Up close, he could see a circular tattoo on the back of her hand. Glancing at the bard, the healer frowned. “If you would, could you stop that? It's quite... irritating. I need your help getting him back to the tents.” The officer stepped forward to protest. “Relax, officer. We have those among us who can detect a lie. I'm sure there's nothing you would like more than to be sure you're punishing the right man?” |
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| Shan Orison | Mon Oct 10, 2011 3:43 am Post #6 |
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Shan stopped at the request of the woman in white. She seemed to be Plumes' superior, and possessing a great deal more sense than him. "Sorry," he said, and fell silent as he helped Cole back to some sort of military encampment. They entered a tent filled with cots, bottles, and instruments: a tent for healing. Shan stood uncomfortably to the side once Cole was resting on one of the cots. "So..." he began. "Are we under arrest? In my defense, I felt I was a bit under attack and acting accordingly, though I guess that doesn't work well law wise. Um..." Shan scuffed his feet as he searched for his next thought. "Thanks for helping us, by the way. Um, there was a man with a broken hip, too. I'm not that good at healing things unless you give me a long time to do it, so um, he probably needs you to look at him. "I'm Shan, by the way. Hello." |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 10, 2011 4:10 am Post #7 |
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As the two lay Cole onto a cot, he stirred again, the third time he'd done so since they'd left. “Oh hell, did he fall asleep again?” She groaned, opening each of his eyelids. “He's easily got a concussion. I can fix the brunt of it, but he'll need a bit of rest.” She began rummaging through boxes of potions and bandages. “Would you mind making sure he doesn't fall back asleep?” She requested, finally finding the salve she was looking for. “Technically,” She began spreading liberal amounts onto Nicholas' bruised scalp. “You are under the charge of the section healer, which is basically the same thing.” She wiped her fingers on the apron tied at her waist. “Only I'm marginally more pleasant and less keen on bringing injury to you.” She offered a quick smile. “Name's Samantha. Sam works.” “To hell with the man. They'll bring him in here when they realize he's not about to just sleep it off, and I'll patch him up some, but there was no reason for them to take violent action.” She stoppered the jar and set it aside. “And as for helping you, don't worry yourself about thanking me.” The woman sighed and took a seat next to the cot, gesturing for Shan to take a seat on the next cot over. “Gods,” She ran a hand through Nicholas' hair, suddenly appearing much older, “Where did you find him?” |
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| Shan Orison | Mon Oct 10, 2011 8:46 pm Post #8 |
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"Sure, I can watch him," Shan said to the healer's request. "I've helped healers before, well, my mother. She's a healer, among other things." He sat down on the proffered cot, resisting the urge to lie on it. He could sleep on the ground, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take a bed when he had the chance. However, he wasn't the one who had been hurt. His own fatigue could wait. "Where did you find him?" She asked, her face looking suddenly haggard with worry and stress. She could just be tired from being a busy healer in Taras, but there was more concern there than a healer would have for an anonymous patient. "I met him in the Broken Strings in Cascadia," Shan said, keeping his voice steady and calm, as if he were sharing a tale. "I was playing there a few nights back, and one of the songs held great sentimental value for him. We started talking, and he told me he wished to return to Taras to hunt for his father's journals. He said he didn't feel he could go alone, and asked me to accompany him. He claimed that it was because of the danger, but seeing his home, and having enough imagination to put myself in his shoes, I think he needed someone there for emotional support. He's lost a great deal, and is afraid of losing more. "Samantha, how do you know him?" |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 10, 2011 10:28 pm Post #9 |
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Samantha sighed. “The poor boy. Coming home to this...” She ran her hand through his hair once more, patting down the tufts. “Cascadia. I suppose they brought him to Contego Mundi when we were busy.” She slid the stool back, resting her hand on Cole's forearm. His opposite hand slowly crossed to rest atop hers, responding to the touch. “I knew his mother, she was one of us. And a great one, too. It was her work that brought her down. Even the greatest among us have their limits.” She looked over to Shan. “You would do well to keep that in mind.” Her eyebrow raised. “I buried his wife and daughter. Took them from the ruins and brought them to be buried alongside his mother's grave at the hall, about a mile north of town.” Samantha looked over Shan “How about you? Are you injured? Hungry?” She reached for a wheeled wooden table, pulling it across the canvas ground. Opening one of the silver domes revealed a whole cooked bird, with potatoes beside it. “They're cold, and I don't want them.” The healer frowned for a moment. “You said he was after his father's journal? While I picked through the rubble, I didn't find his, but I do have his mother's. It has near everything she knew, personal notes, details on workings of sections of the body.” She stood and began to rummage through another cupboard full of personal belongings, coming up with a worn leather-bound book held closed with a black ribbon. She set the journal on the table behind Cole's cot. “Tell me about yourself, we have a short while before he can understand what's going on. Bastard clubbed him pretty well, and my way gets the job done, but nearly as cleanly as most of the others can.” |
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| Shan Orison | Mon Oct 10, 2011 11:04 pm Post #10 |
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"No, I'm fine. The guards didn't touch me, though I have no problems getting something to eat. Thank you for the meal." Shan gratefully grabbed a potato in one hand and a drumstick in the other, letting his violin rest by his side. Once could live off of nature's bounty, but eventually one really wants a buttery potato and some meat. He was halfway to taking a second bite from the turkey leg when she asked about him. "Um," Shan said, swallowing his previous bite quickly. "There's not much to say, really. My name's Shan. I was born in a little farming village in the hills. My mother's a witch, and my father died when I was young, so I don't know much about him. I left home a few months ago to be a bard, and I've just been wandering around Imythess playing at taverns, meeting people, and hearing their stories. I'm afraid I'm rather dull, overall. Probably the most interesting thing about me is that I'm a bard who can't sing. And don't say everyone can sing. I've been to quite a few teachers in Cascadia, and they all said it was hopeless. One burst into tears.... "So, this is really tasty chicken. Are you sure you don't want any?" |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 10, 2011 11:26 pm Post #11 |
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“Oh, I have no trouble believing there are people who can't sing. Firm believer in that much. Hell, I couldn't hit a note to save my life.” The woman laughed a little. Lifting her free hand, she rubbed two fingers against her thumb, sparking a white light that glowed at her fingertips. She touched the spell to Cole's forehead. His brow unfurrowed as it spread and sank into his skin. “So, a rather dull bard who can't sing, only a few months into his craft, conjured a fiddle out of nowhere, and can stop a group of fully-grown men and an accomplished magic user with a few screeching notes.” She busied herself with tidying up Cole's appearance, fetching a rag and an empty bowl. Cupping her hand, she whispered a spell and turned it, water pouring from nowhere to fill the bowl. Getting the rag damp, she began dabbing at dirty spots. Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet Shan's eyes. “I'm not a fool, boy. Those weren't casual notes.” She spoke sternly, but offered a lighthearted smirk. “Not chicken. It's parrot, we caught one this morning, mouthing off to the nightwatch. Cranky lot by the time their shifts are over.” Samantha looked solemnly at Shan as he ate before laughing. “Joking, we breed them outside of town. I'm a vegetarian, but these fools insist that, being the only woman here, I could use a bit more meat on my bones.” She wrung the cloth into the now-filthy water, setting it on a rack to dry. “You say your mother is sort of a healer? Tell me about her.” |
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| Shan Orison | Tue Oct 11, 2011 1:29 am Post #12 |
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"Oh, well, um..." Shan said. How'd he forget that she saw what happened out there? There were few ways to cover that up, and most required he weave a tale from whole cloth. He opted to say nothing, even as she scolded him. "Technically I've played since I was seven, so I've been playing violin for most of my life, and it was in its case..." he muttered to the only points he could correct. He continued munching the bird even after being told it was parrot. He was used to eating something meaty and hoping there was enough mustard around to cover it up. Learning he was eating a parrot as tasty as this wasn't highly distressing. Of course, she seemed to be making up for her sternness earlier by joking. Then Samantha asked about his mother. That was always a difficult subject for him, though the reasons for it shifted daily. He dreaded the day his Shadow forced him to confront that particular memory. For now, it was best to stick to facts. "Well, like I said, she's a witch, though that term rather brings up a different image than what that title means at home. Um, part of being a witch is being the healer: stitching up injuries, midwifing, making potions for illnesses, using her magic when it's called for. She's also responsible for laying out the dead and standing vigil the night before the funeral. And a witch never accepts payment, well, not like money. Not that my village has a lot of money, but she gets...I guess gifts, but really it was voluntary donations. Used clothes, food, repairs to the house. I've never really had any new clothes growing up, not that it was much of a problem, besides some bullying. Usually she tells them to care for or do a chore for someone else in the village as payment for her help. Um, not to say she doesn't have magic. It's just witches back home are weird about magic, that it should only be used when needed, and the rest of the time are what hands are for. "Sorry, I'm not sure what you want to know, really. Um, but about before...I might as well be honest, I guess. I'm no good at lying. My violin has enchantments, but I inherited a lot of magic from my mother, and she and the coven think that its strong enough it's just leaking out in my music. I know that sounds weird, since music and magic don't usually go together. I promise I'm not here to hurt anyone, though. I'm just here to help Cole. Is um, he is going to be alright, right?" |
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| Tristram | Tue Oct 11, 2011 1:56 am Post #13 |
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Samantha rubbed her hands together, spreading them and drawing out a new spell, threads of magic visible between her palms. She cast and listened at the same time, lowering the weave over Nicholas' head. The lines sank in, and a moment later the fog in Cole's eyes began to clear. “I can appreciate a magic user who uses her hands unless necessary. I only wish my knowledge of herbs and remedies were as extensive. It would be nice not to be forced to fall back on magic all the time, it's tiring. I must admit, though, others have it harder.” She looked into Cole's eyes, which flicked up to meet hers. “Interesting concept, magic in music. Haven't heard that one before.” She nodded her head, satisfied with whatever she was looking for. “He'll be fine, he's coming to now. “I'm fine. Feeling quite good, actually.” Cole took a deep breath and urged himself to sit up, looking from Shan to Samantha. Eyes opening wide, his hand jerked to his side pockets, feeling around until he found the locket in his breast pocket. Sighing in relief, he fished it from the depths, silver chain spilling over his hand. Flicking the latch with his thumb nail, he opened it. He reached two fingers into its shallow depths, fishing free a lock of dark brown hair tied in a loop with a bit of ribbon. Smiling, he pressed it to his lips before returning it to the locket, clicking it shut and sliding it away. “Good, you're with us 'gain. Quite a hit you took there, and the man's damned mace has a right nasty enchantment on it. Be happy we got you here in time, or you'd be a vegetable if you woke up at all.” Samantha sounded quite peeved at the thought of the man. The two locked eyes, the woman's face softening. “I... I buried them with Elizabeth.” She said gently. “Thank you.” He nodded his head, biting his cheek to keep from tearing. Looking at Shan, he gave him a once-over. “They didn't clobber you too, did they?” It was then he noticed the bound journal sitting on the table to his side. “Is that...” He snapped the book up, sliding the ribbon around the corner and opening it. He flipped through the pages, eyes flicking over the spidery script, a smile growing on his face. “You're... were one of her friends, weren't you?” The healer nodded, “So I was. Special woman, your mother. We studied together as girls. Some time ago that was.” She laughed, lifting her hands and turning the backs toward him. She had tattoos on both of them, symmetric half-circles with hundreds of minute shield and health symbols. Cole chuckled at the sight as if by some inside joke. Angry voices sounded outside the tent, their tone suggesting that more than one guard was angry about a subject they agreed upon. s the voices became louder, a moaning cry of a man in pain accompanied them. "Oh, dear." Samantha sighed. Nicholas looked around and put the scene together, hooking a foot around the leg of the rolling table Shan was eating from, pulling it to the side and covering it. "Word to the wise, look depressed." Edited by Tristram, Tue Oct 11, 2011 1:58 am.
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| Shan Orison | Wed Oct 12, 2011 6:58 pm Post #14 |
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A new guard walked in, this one with the air of a man who gave orders and knew they'd be obeyed. Shan watched him through the wall of bangs that shielded his lowered face. He should act humble and depressed? It would be a change from his usual humble and frightened, but not too much so. He kept his head lowered, his hands clenched in his lap and, most importantly, his mouth closed. For now, he had no authority and no say in this place. His word was worth less than garbage. He'd have to trust in the healer, and see just how good she was. Shan had been studying her as she studied him, and the bard had learned something on his travels. To be witch, one didn't have to be a woman. One didn't have to be a human. One, indeed, may never dream of using that term while they were one all along... "hWell," the new guard said. "I trust you've treated the prisoners, Samantha?" "Yes, Captain Aberthy," Samantha said, standing demurely with folded hands. Shan kept from snorting. More like Mayonnaise Aberthy, he thought. Thick and oily, and holding a horrible habit of prefacing every W with an H. The man may be a higher rank than others in Taras guard, but he was only superior in his own mind. "Very good, then my men shall escort them to their cells. I trust I can rely on your complete cooperation." "I'm afraid you cannot, Captain Aberthy," she said, her voice still soft and pacifying, but Shan could sense their downy deception. "This man is still in critical condition, and I cannot authorize anyone to move him." Mayonnaise looked flustered, but Samantha's unofficial rank outmatched his own in this place, and they both knew it. He couldn't order, so he argued. "Madam, these men are looters and thieves, and severely injured one of my men in the conduct of their duties-" "Such as causing potentially fatal brain damage to this man, who is my patient and will remain so until I deem him fit." Shan smiled as Samantha's own cool tones overcame Mayonnaise's' sharp, fiery syllables. He looked flustered again, but rallied admirably. "The man was resisting arrest, and they are permitted to use force if they deem it necessary. Too many of these ruffians are turning to violence to rob the dead and the living who hwork here still." Samantha made no response to this. Shan would have paid to see what her face looked like. Whatever it held, Mayonnaise continued walking forward into danger. "I will permit you to hold on to the injured prisoner for now, Samantha, but he didn't hwork alone. His accomplice used magic against the Taras guard and looks uninjured, so he-" "Shall remain here and watch this man. He has training as a healer, and I do not have the time or luxury to handhold a concussed patient when there are, as you indicated, injured guards and workers to care for." Shan hid his grin. Ah, the softness had been stripped away by Mayonnaise's eggy aura, and he ran headlong into the steel underneath. "Perhaps if you trained your men to act with a bit more care, you’d have more prisoners and I fewer patients. Now, unless you truly wish to humiliate yourself by trying to override the diagnosis of an Apostle, you will leave immediately. Have a good day, Captain. Don’t let me keep you." She turned her back on the captain and began doing something at her workbench. It didn't matter what it was, Shan knew. What was important was to remind the reddening Mayonnaise that he had no power over her, and she had the authority to back herself up if he got it in his head to prove otherwise. Mayonnaise composed himself once more, however, and re-framed the situation so he remained the top dog in his thoughts. "I shall post guards at the entrance to ensure the prisoners don't escape," he said. "You have the authority to do what you wish outside this tent," Samantha said, not turning around. Mayonnaise Aberthy clicked his heels and marched out. Shan watched two guards ordered to stand at the tent entrance, but heard nothing about watching the tent's sides. That didn't mean there wouldn't be guards waiting for them to slip out some other way, but Mayonnaise seemed more eager about keeping his badges shiny than using his brain. A section of the conversation did stick in Shan's head. "Apostle?" he asked Cole. "Does this have to do with Samantha's tattoos?" Edited by Shan Orison, Thu Oct 13, 2011 2:58 am.
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| Tristram | Thu Oct 13, 2011 2:46 am Post #15 |
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Cole could only barely keep himself from breaking into laughter at the exchange, enjoying thoroughly Samantha's unshakeable attitude. If there was any man of any measure of authority who thought he was higher in rank theoretically, there would be one less man in practice. The woman could stand against a king, and by the end he'd be reduced to changing bedpans. When the guard left, Cole lifted his head and gave a laugh, stifling the sound for fear of alerting the posted guards. “You've always been my favorite.” He grinned at Samantha. “Oh, you're remembering me, then?” She relaxed at her work table, turning to beam at the man, who simply smiled back. “Pardon me, I've got a letter to send out.” Samantha rolled up the parchment she'd been writing on while the guard talked at her. When the healer walked to the opposite side of the tent to find a free pidgeon, Auron leaned in. “It's got everything to do with them. She and my mother were students under the same teacher. The Apostles are a sect of healers. Best of the best, dedicated to more than healing wounds.” He stopped as she finished tying the note to the bird's leg, sending it out the window flap. The woman returned to her seat by the bard. “There. Give it a little time, we'll have you two out of here soon enough. Aren't many ways to prove dear Cale is who he says he is, and these stubborn asses are too scared of their idiot leader to use their brains. But we've got someone who can verify.” Samantha eyed the tent entrance with distaste. “I might be able to get us through them, if you don't mind a new couple of patients.” Cole offered with a joking grin. “You might be able to... if you don't mind me breaking my foot off up your arse.” Samantha smiled back, tone none too jovial. Nicholas sighed. “You never let me have any fun.” Edited by Tristram, Thu Oct 13, 2011 2:50 am.
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2:48 PM Jul 11

