| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
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| Adoramus [FIN]; [P] Hakon | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Thu Mar 7, 2013 10:07 pm (1,110 Views) | |
| Keelin | Thu Mar 7, 2013 10:07 pm Post #1 |
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Keelin checked over her shoulder as a horse-drawn cart came plodding over the hill and down the road from behind. Boxes of cargo jostled around the bed, loudly announcing its approach. She veered off the road to give the driver enough space to pass, but instead heard a whoa over the clamor of slowing hooves. Keelin stopped as the cart did, touching the brim of her hat in greeting as she met the eyes of the driver. Loose locks of black hair fell in a shag over her missing eye and did a decent job of covering up such a grisly wound. He was the first to speak. "Morning, friend! Need a lift?" She nodded. The young man, a farmer wearing grass-stained slacks, gestured to the passenger's space on the seat and she climbed up. With a quick flick of the reigns, they were off. Rural Deboni people were trusting like that. "Headed to market, I take?" Keelin asked. Her voice carried a thick elvish accent and he had to make her repeat herself before he understood her over the clattering of boxes behind them. "Aye. In Treshen, just a couple villages down this road. What about you, stranger? Can't just be out on a hike." "Ah, well, my horse died. Getting around been a little... inconvenient. I just need to get to Fulreath." Steadfast the Third had been quite the reliable steed until he met his untimely end. Such a shame. "Fulreath? I was gonna bypass that place entirely." He narrowed an eye at Keelin. "Everyone in Fulreath's crazy as a loon. Like god-crazy, all fire and brimstone. You do know that, right? They'll preach you into the ground." Keelin had been busy with a self-lighting cedar spill while her new farmer friend spoke to her. She held it up to a cigar she was slowly rotating in her fingers, taking soft puffs through it to get it burning right. "I think I can fix the god problem." "Oh yeah? Well, don't say I didn't warn you if you get sucked in, or worse. Here, I'll drop you off at the fork in the road before the bypass. Should be just a ten, fifteen minute walk from there. Okay?" She indicated that was fine with her, and spent the rest of the trip leisurely leaning back against the cargo, not visibly concerned by the rough ride or her seemingly dangerous destination. At the fork in the road Keelin dropped a handful of copper coins in the young man's hand, ignoring his repeated declining, and jumped down into the cloud of dust the wind was blowing back from their trail. Just a little bit further and she'd be where she wanted to be. |
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| Hakon | Fri Mar 8, 2013 5:11 am Post #2 |
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Some days the stars seem to align, the Dead God’s breath rests on your shoulders, and things come easy. This was most decidedly not one of those days. Hakon jerked awake, vision muddled by foggy eyes and a quickly burgeoning headache that pummeled out its own throbbing pulse in his skull. He crawled to his hands and knees, tried to stand but fell as the world roiled away to his left. While still in a heap of sprawled arms and legs, the northman tentatively probed his body for inconvenient holes, but everything still seemed to be in working order. The sudden urge to piss set upon him with racehorse rapidity and he stumbled to his feet to comply. The relief was as palpable as instantaneous, and only when his bladder had emptied itself completely did he open his eyes to survey the world around him. He was in a sea of brown and yellow grasses, blades melting into the brilliant azure sky above. The dark smudge of a settlement dotted the horizon some ways off, a few lonely buildings jammed together under the reproachful steeple of a church, thin wisps of smoke curling up and up before dispersing to nothingness. A wide road wound its way lazily through the rolling plains. Twin pairs of grooves on either side marked it as one frequented regularly, no doubt by peasants and artisans eager to trade wares at the town’s market. Hakon thought he made out the pleasant clop-clopping of a horse, though a gradual hill hid the travelers from his current location. He breathed in the fresh air deeply to push away the clinging haze in his mind. A shadow of a smile almost crossed his lips, for the sheer normalcy of it all. As he gazed out into the fields around him, Hakon spotted a few farmers dotted across the landscape, no doubt tending to their infant crops. Though spring had nearly broken upon the Debon Plains, winter had not yet released her chill clutches. Despite himself, the northman let out a shiver. That’s about when he noticed he was bare arse naked. Some days you just don’t seem to have any luck at all. This was most definitely one of those days. |
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| Keelin | Fri Mar 8, 2013 6:33 pm Post #3 |
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"A traveler!" "Ho, traveler!" "Welcome to Fulreath, traveler!" "Are you weary? Would you like some food or drink?" Keelin hadn't taken more than ten steps into the limits of the village before she got accosted from all sides by denizens coming out of their houses and businesses. Her skin crawled. She stopped, hands in pockets holding her coat closed, listening to them speak almost on top of each other. "Do you need an inn room for the night? We'll give you the first night free." "Actually, I was wondering about your church services..." The small crowd paused for a heartbeat too long. Keelin thought she might have messed up. Her fingers itched for her swords. She wasn't afraid to kill her way to the source of this village's problems. Her fears were rendered unnecessary when their faces collectively lit up, like what they'd just heard made their whole week. She supposed they didn't get too much interest in their religious practices. They practically tripped over one another trying to tell her when the preachings and rituals were -- a lot of specific times for a lot of different events, but all that Keelin gathered was that they basically did their stuff every single day and expected everyone in the village to participate. "We're so glad an outsider is interested!" someone voiced their collective, creepy delight. "We should take you to meet our leader," another added. "Humble Sister Kaphovah the Wise and Illuminated always loves to meet travelers. She can give you an official welcome to Fulreath." Keelin raised an eyebrow at the amusingly contradictory set of titles, but agreed to go meet her. Their overbearing hospitality was really making this easy. She started to walk, but felt someone touching the side of her leg and hip. Her hand shot out and knocked their hand away, eye widening in sudden outrage and surprise, but the damage had already been done. "I'm sorry, but you're going to need to hand over your weapons before you see the Humble Sister." The man seemed genuinely regretful of this, even though he probably wasn't. "What? No!" she blurted out, surprised they would even try to ask that. She instinctively backed away from them, holding a hand protectively over her hidden weapons. "Another traveler is nearing the village!" A watchman cried down from a nearby tower. "Humble traveler, you must understand. Killing tools go against our creed of nonviolence," an older lady urged her. "Please, if you wish to see Sister and learn about our religion, the first thing you must do is surrender your weapons." On one hand, they were less evidently 'fire and brimstone' than that young farmer warned her. On the other hand, they were still beyond insane. "Sorry, but I'm not going to give anything to you." "Repressive Person!" they said. "Repressive Person! Take her to re-education!" The hunter reached for her weapons, but one of the villagers came up from behind and slammed his thumbs into her temples. Keelin felt a momentary surge of magic into her body before collapsing into a deep sleep. The villagers caught her and dragged her down the street. |
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| Hakon | Fri Mar 8, 2013 9:01 pm Post #4 |
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The streets of the little town were deserted when Hakon sauntered in, naked as a jay bird. He strode down the empty mainstreet, glancing up at the shops as he passed by. Cobblers, weavers, a silversmith, a greedy general store that took up the corner of the block. There was only a single cross-street, itself as barren as the main drag. A few prickles on the back of his neck stood on end. The village was too quiet, and he had the unsettling feeling he was being watched. Across the street, a towering church loomed impassively, its crisp white paint flawless, black shingles in perfect repair. A dull brass bell hung silently from the steeple above. Where the hell is everyone? The stores along the hard-packed avenue boasted small apartments overhead. As he scanned the shuttered windows, his eyes caught a fluttering of a red and white plaid curtains behind the glass. Someone was watching him. As if on cue, he heard a gruff voice call out. Hakon spun toward the sound, which issued from the closed doors of the general store. “We don’t want you kind here! Please, leave our town in peace!” “I’m no bandit!” he called back. His thoughts drifted to the previous night, though the memories were still fleeting. “I had a run-in with a witch last evening...” Damn this is embarrassing... “She, uh, she must’ve drugged me... and stole my clothes and my heirloom sword,” he gestured at the empty space on his left hip uselessly. His only response was a loud crash from inside the store. A few scattered clinking and clattering followed behind. “Aw golly, you made the missus faint! Well get yourself in here boy and cover up! We don’t want you to catch a cold out there!” A portly gentlemen ambled out of the store with a heavy green blanket it tow. He sported close-cropped gray hair and a grandfatherly face, and when he got within range of the northman, he held out the covering with his eyes averted. “Thank you, sir,” Hakon mumbled as he wrapped the thick wool around himself. “Might I trouble you for a pair of pants?” The old man looked up, eyes wide and mouth ajar. Clearly none too comfortable with bringing a naked northman into his store. “Well... I-I suppose we’d best get you covered up,” he stammered. “Come on inside with me, and don’t mind the missus. She ain’t used to seeing a big old man like you naked as the day you were born.” |
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| Keelin | Fri Mar 8, 2013 11:27 pm Post #5 |
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The first thing Keelin did upon waking up was check her hip. She wasn't surprised that her swords were gone. Actually, the whole baldric was gone. And her hat, coat and boots. What, did they think she was going to beat them to death with the leather? Second order of business was to make sure she was in one piece. Yep, they hadn't touched her otherwise as far as she could tell. Only after those cursory checks did she actually take a look around. It was a little warmer in here than it was outside. The ceiling was made of stone, as were the walls; probably a basement, since most of the buildings in the village were made of wood or mudbrick. Instead of being a dungeon, it was an open, furnished basement that looked like it was used as a gathering place for the community. There were a bunch of stacked chairs near the edges of the open room and a small stone lectern at the front. They hadn't even bothered to tie her up, giving her the full run of the place. Keelin climbed to the top of the stairwell and tried to open the door, expecting it to be locked. To her surprise it swung ajar, revealing the main floor of a surprisingly expansive church. The background hummed with a holy choir that didn't originate from any particular location. No services were being conducted, but several people were sitting at the pews holding their hands clasped in prayer. The front was abandoned, but a person in holy regalia was sitting on a chair near the back corner, reading a book. She was middle-aged for a human, perhaps in her thirties or forties. Keelin's eyes went straight to the elaborately embroidered piece of cloth the priest had draped over and in front of her white robes. The celestial sigils reminded Keelin of her own scarf which she now realized they hadn't taken. The priest noticed Keelin's stare from across the room and looked up. Her eyes were gold and framed by a pair of reading glasses. Keelin marched forward, preparing to kill her with her bare hands if need be. "Greetings, lost one," she said as the hunter approached, setting her glasses down on a small table next to her armrest. "Welcome to my sanctuary." Her voice was soothing in a way that was probably magical. Keelin grit her teeth, her face twisted in a strange expression while she tried to raise her fists. Instead of beating the crap out of this undoubtedly skeevy individual, she found herself barely capable of even lifting a finger in her goal of violence. No matter how badly Keelin wanted to attack, she just... couldn't. Yeah, this was a sanctuary indeed, but not by anyone's choice. "Would you care to sit down? I wanted to ask you a few questions." Keelin felt incredibly compelled to just do what the preacher asked, but resisted. Her awareness of what was probably going on helped her, but the hunter still felt her legs quivering a bit, wanting so badly to take a seat. Her mind tried to convince her to just do it, but an overwhelming sense of stubbornness kept Keelin plastered in place at the back of the church. Villagers pretended not to be listening or watching the exchange. A boy came in and approached the priest. "Forgive me for interrupting, Sister, but a strange man just entered the village. We're not sure what to do with him." Kaphovah contemplated this new information, leaving Keelin standing there all twitchy. The probably-celestial looked to the hunter. "You were not alone?" "I don't know what kind of idiot would follow me here," she breathed. Sweat beaded at the edges of her hairline. "Thank you, Thomas. Try bringing him here for guidance, if there is no other option." "What, will you 're-educate' him?" Keelin scowled. "I am not sure what you're talking about. Please sit down, traveler. You don't look well." Keelin gave up and plopped down on one of the other chairs in this little reading area. The overwhelming feeling of relief was instantaneous. Some kind of positive conditioning, no doubt about that. Kaphovah smiled at her. "Good. They brought you to me, saying you were 'repressive' or something like that, yet we clearly are not enemies." She gestured to Keelin's scarf and gave a soft chuckle. "My apologies. The villagers get a bit carried away sometimes. I am Kaphovah, an angel of Celestia. It is truly a pleasure to meet a fellow priestess of the Path." |
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| Hakon | Sat Mar 9, 2013 4:39 pm Post #6 |
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“What’s your name, child?” the old man asked from around the corner. He’d insisted on having Hakon dress himself in the small back storeroom of the shop, lest his wife be subjected to any more of the northman’s bawdy nakedness. “Botrir,” Hakon answered, not quite sure why he’d lied. Something about this village was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Botrir’s the name.” The canvas pants Jeb had given him were comfortable, if a bit too small. Hakon looked down at a generous helping of his bare ankles that snuck out from beneath the hem and shrugged to himself as he wiggled his bare toes. Better than having no pants at all. He tugged over a colorless shirt that was a bit tight around the shoulders and a bit liberal around the midsection, then looked at the wares before him. Jeb seemed a simple humble businessman, and his shop was hardly remarkable. The room he stood in was small but filled near to the ceiling with trinkets and utensils and other commonplace items. Hakon’s eyes drifted over a block and tackle, a barrel filled with birdseed, a crate stamped with “Candles” in black ink. Upon a shelf in the far corner was a box marked “Utensils,” and he stepped over to it. Inside a tangled menagerie of three-tined tin forks, spoons, and other cutlery lie jumbled together. Hakon stole a glance over his shoulder, then pocketed the sharpest looking knife he could find. Can never be too careful... “You almost decent in there, Botrir? I’d like to take you to meet someone. Not to worry, though! I already sent a boy ahead to let her know we’re coming.” Hakon scanned the storeroom for anything else that might come in handy should he stumble upon the convincing need for a quick exit. A stack of black cast-iron frying pans looked promising, but just as he was reaching for one, he heard Jeb scuffle to the doorway. “What are you... Oh, please forgive me Botrir! You must be starving!” Jeb smiled. “Well, there will be plenty of time for eating, don’t you worry! Right after we see the Sister.” He eyed the northman’s bare feet. “I’m afraid we won’t have any of your size, my boy, so you’ll have to make due for now. We can stop by the cobblers after your re-education.” Re-education? Seeing little alternative to avoid a scene, Hakon followed the old man out into the space of the store. A dozen wooden shelves stretched across the floorspace, lined up neat and tidy and stacked full of all the accoutrements of country living. The aisles seemed organized by their merchandise, feeds in the first, various ropes and pulleys in the second, all the way down to the last row, which sported trinkets and candles and heavy iron lanterns. Jeb’s wife squatted plaintively on a wooden stool behind the counter, lips turned sourly at the sight of the northman. Hakon gave her a wink when the old man’s back was turned. She paled, then flushed an angry red and harrumphed at him before returning to her needlework. “Of course, Jeb, I would be delighted to meet her. If only to thank her for the hospitality of you and your lovely wife,” Hakon rambled, thoughts drifting to an escape plan. “What is the name of your town again, good sir?” Jeb smiled a plastic grin, eyes glazing over as he responded. “Fulreath.” |
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| Keelin | Sun Mar 10, 2013 3:23 pm Post #7 |
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Keelin's fingers went to her forehead as a needling pain radiated out from her missing eye. She glared at the angel across the reading area as if blaming her, but Kaphovah looked genuinely concerned. "...Are you all right?" "Just get on with the questions." The celestial blinked at her. "You said you had a few questions? Get on with it." "I, uh-- well, what is your name?" "Keelin Madaricatu." Her lips split into a toothy grin as she realized the angel wasn't used to dealing with someone even remotely rude. Now that was funny. The pain in her eye let up until it was a dull throbbing, letting her lean back in her chair and sigh. "Oh, nice to meet you, Keelin. How do you like my church? It was recently refurbished. Very dilapidated when I first moved here, but the villagers got so enthusiastic about my talk of Heaven that they all pitched in." Kaphovah smiled. Keelin just laughed at that: a low, tinkling laugh with a big grin. She just sounded so earnest about it that the hunter couldn't help her response. "Do you really have no idea what-- ah, nevermind. Yeah, the church is pretty impressive, I have to give it." "Normally I would then ask what brings you to Fulreath, but there is a more pressing question on my mind. Forgive my audacity, but I wanted most to know why you refused to give up your weapons at the gate. Even a warrior-priestess of the Path knows to surrender her weapons when entering a sanctuary." "I don't know the crazy Celestial sect you belong, but mine calls what your lambs did 'groping I did not want' and more importantly 'theft.' Where did you put my weapons? Or my clothes, even?" Kaphovah wrung her fingers in her lap, clearly uncomfortable with Keelin's mild aggression. "Your clothes are hung near the entrance. They were very dirty and this is a clean place. Nothing more. As for your weapons..." she looked away for a moment. "I- please forgive me, but I do not feel comfortable telling you where they are." The hunter slammed her palms against her armrests, the loud sound amplifying her sudden shout. "Where the hell are my weapons!?" Her voice echoed in the whole church, making Kaphovah flinch so hard that she let out a choked squeak of surprise. Keelin restrained a bout of laughter at this hilarious response, as it would have blown the persona she was trying to make. Instead, she was distracted by the new people at the door. She wasn't sure how much they'd seen. Her index finger lifted into a flaccid point. "Looks like your other guest is here." The angel looked back to the entrance, where some villagers had in tow a burly northman wearing a pair of tight canvas pants. "Oh... hello." The priest tried to get herself together. "My name is Kaphovah. I am an angel of Celestia. What are you called, traveler? Please take a seat with us." |
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| Hakon | Sun Mar 10, 2013 5:42 pm Post #8 |
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Hakon looked up at the black wood of the great church’s door. It was inscribed with scenes out of a storybook, tortured twisting faces burning in unquenchable flames while demons prodded at them with blades, a great cloud boasting an army of angels, holy light radiating downward and basking the nonbelievers in an ethereal glow. The northman scoffed. Of demons he’d seen plenty, not the least of which hid in his own heart. But angels, divine messengers of Celestia? That was a bit much. “...and then she took us all into her fold, and we erected this beautiful church, a temple for us to worship...” He tuned out Jeb’s banal dithering and shoved open the heavy doors. Inside row after pristine row of dark pews were aligned. A few supplicants kneeled at them, heads inclined and hands held aloft to the heavens. Jeb steered him toward a back corner of the sanctuary, just inside the entryway. A middle-aged woman was talking to a shaggy-haired girl, both outfitted in priestly stoles that were decorated with strangely formed sigils. The older woman looked at him through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, greeting him cordially. But Hakon didn’t hear her, for he was staring, mouth slightly agape, at the perfect specimen between them. Somewhere in the pack of his mind, an old ballad he’d heard a traveling bard sing long ago crept into his consciousness... I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of A love there is no cure for. He caught the woman flick her raven locks over her shoulder in slow motion, catching a glimpse of one perfect eye, her smoothly curved chin, a hint of a luscious pink lip. They made the briefest of eye contact, and Hakon felt like he’d been impaled with an enchanted arrow. He couldn’t breathe, his knees were weak, and he had the sudden urge to vomit. He realized that the older woman was frowning at him now, but hadn’t the faintest idea what she’d said or how to respond. He didn’t even know if he could respond at the moment. It was all he could do to close his mouth and blink a few times. As an afterthought, he lifted a hand in an awkward wave, then let it drop slack to his side. I think I love you. Isn't that what life is made of? Though it worries me to say That I've never felt this way. Lyrics credit
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| Keelin | Sun Mar 10, 2013 10:46 pm Post #9 |
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"Uhm..." Now this was something different. The northman didn't respond, much less give an indication that he understood what Kaphovah said. The angel looked to Jeb with concern. "Can he, uh, speak Common?" A wry grin tugged at Keelin's lips. If the man couldn't even understand the Common language, Kaphovah's compelling voice might not work on him. She could use him to kill the woman unknowingly holding Fulreath in her grip. "He was speaking it earlier..." Keelin took a closer look and saw that the man in the tight pants wasn't just staring agape off into space like someone deaf and dumb. He was staring, with no small amount of interest, at her. The pale-eyed man gave an awkward little wave at the two of them. The hunter's eyebrow cocked in a show of genuine confusion, not sure what was eliciting such strange behavior -- assuming this wasn't just some strange, strange man who wandered in here from the plains. Keelin looked to the man called Jeb. "What's his name?" "Botrir." "There you go. So, angel, are you going to tell me where my weapons are or what?" Even though she bothered to ask, Keelin didn't expect any kind of affirmative from the angel. Just because she was hilariously naive didn't mean she was a pushover. The hunter had already come up with two options: find a way to lure Kaphovah out of the church, or provoke the Celestial into attacking her, which would make her cancel the spell that prevented violence here. The angel's frown turned to Keelin. "I will not give you back your weapons. Your insistence just makes you more suspicious." "Don't be like that. You said it yourself: I'm clearly not your enemy." Keelin held up her scarf for emphasis. "Seriously, I don't understand this unneeded paranoia of your fellow priestess. I can't even attack you inside this church, so why all the worry? Don't you agree, sir?" She looked to the northman for her last question, rising from her chair. |
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| Hakon | Mon Mar 11, 2013 3:10 am Post #10 |
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“I-uh, I... what?” Hakon mumbled, drawn out of his daydreaming mind by the realization that they were talking about him. He fingered the cutlery in the front pocket of his shirt for a moment, trying vainly to figure out what sort of response he could give without sounding like a complete buffoon. “Seven?” Well, so much for not looking like a buffoon. The girl’s eyes, or eye, more accurately, since the chewed up red hole on the far side of her face didn’t look like it had sported any kind of visual organ in quite some time, was fixed on him, and the northman promptly forgot was he had been trying to say. It didn't help a bit that these clothes were so itchy... it was really quite distracting. “Hi... I’m-uh, my name is Hakon...” voice cracking before he trailed off into an inaudible whisper. Stupid! Stupid! He puffed out his chest a bit, tried to gain some sense of composure, but damn it her eye was right on him! The gentle curve of her eyelid, dusted ever so lightly with shadow... The graceful bat of ebony lashes... were they truly flicking down that slowly, or just a figment of his imagination? And the sultry curl to her lip, a bemused smile so subtle, so intimate, like a joke that both of them knew but neither would say aloud... Get a hold of yourself, man! Maybe if he looked at her forehead, he could concentrate. He wouldn’t look at the feathered black strands that flitted out across her face, cloaking it in a bit of mystery, a generous helping of allure... Damnit! If his hammering heart could just quiet a bit, perhaps he could focus! What was it he was trying to do? Ah yes... “My name is Hakon!” he shouted, far too loud for the confined space. The conversation halted, drew into a pregnant pause. “Hakon? I thought your name was Botrir?” mumbled Jeb. The old man’s brow was wrinkled quizzically, a hand tugging at his chin as if Hakon’s answer had completely stumped him. “Oh, uh, right... well, that’s my last name... Hakon, uh, Hakon Botrir.” What?! Where did that come from? “And your name, madam?” he kneeled low, face toward the floor of the sanctuary and arm raised to grasp and kiss the pretty lass’s hand if she were to offer it. He hoped to hell and back that she would. What the hell am I doing? |
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| Keelin | Mon Mar 11, 2013 3:14 pm Post #11 |
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Not only was the situation getting more and more odd thanks to the new human they'd dragged in, but Keelin was getting the impression she wouldn't make any progress on her plan by staying and continuing to stall or interrogate the angel. And now that Hakon Botrir spoke -- though making noises was a different matter from producing meaningful sentences -- Keelin wasn't so sure how useful he'd be in her efforts. Then again, he still wasn't paying attention to Kaphovah. She'd asked him to sit down and he didn't even show a hint of resistance, since he was so focused on Keelin. The hunter, already standing, prepared to walk around and past a kneeling Hakon, but it was the celestial who mentioned him. "Keelin, your hand..." She stopped, looking down at the haggard, tight-pants-wearing human in front of her, and finally noticed that one of his arms was up in a posture she recognized from a long, long time ago. "Oh. Sorry." Keelin gave him her hand, even though it was wearing a work glove with the fingers halfway cut off, the digits calloused and not very delicate. "Call me Keelin." With no more fanfare than that, the elf wandered off to the entryway. Her longcoat and long-brimmed hat were both hanging on a hook just inside the doors, with her work boots lined against the wall nearby. Keelin slipped on her coat first, then knelt down to lace up each boot in turn. "Just where do you think you're going?" Kaphovah said, meeting Keelin around the corner. Keelin straightened, pulling her hat off the hook with one hand and placing it over her head, cocking it to the side just enough for the brim to cover her bad eye. "I'm going to look for my weapons. Don't worry, I'll be back by the end of the day." They began to protest, but the hunter interrupted them -- particularly Kaphovah. "Hakon! If these fanatics' questions bore you, I could use another set of eyes. Say yes or no. It's not like you're lovestruck by my appearance or anything, so act like you have some idea what's going on." The last comment was presented like it was a ridiculous possibility, considering Keelin's appearance and general manner. |
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| Hakon | Mon Mar 11, 2013 6:48 pm Post #12 |
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“Yes,” Hakon responded. I’m not lovestruck, am I? The northman paused for a moment, considering the evidence. Racing heart, bumbling speech, sweaty palms, weak knees... Crap... Hakon shook his head. He’d have to tread more carefully. No telling what the girl was thinking, no telling who she was, really, and just because she fair-featured didn’t mean she was pleasant, let alone interested. He pulled at his ratty beard absentmindedly. With no other brilliant ideas on hand, Hakon stood and followed the black-haired priestess out of the church. Realization had granted some semblance of sanity after his strange sequence of behaviors, and so he pondered over the schism that separated the two sisters. The older one seemed upset and genuinely confused, as if the thought of her young comrade walking away hadn’t even crossed her mind. The dark-eyed beauty, Keelin, was flippant and brash, barely respectful at all. And she was looking for weapons. I may not be much for love, but of weapons I know a fair bit... “So, uh, what exactly is it that I stumbled into?” he asked her as they crossed the dirt mainstreet. Gusts of winds blew in from the surrounding fields and funneled between the rows of shops and buildings, issuing up swirling clouds of dust that stung at his bare ankles. He wiped a bead of perspiration away from his upper lip as he hustled after her. “Some sort of scriptural spat? Perhaps a difference in ecclesiastical conclusions?” Do I always talk this loud? He reached out for her shoulder, trying to grab her attention. “I can’t offer you much in the way of adjudication, but if you’re looking for weapons, I’m sure I can help...” Hakon pulled out the tin knife as if to demonstrate his prowess, but realized too late that the display was pitifully inadequate. The tiny blade seemed woefully small in his tightened fist, hardly enough to sever a steak, let alone a man’s flesh. He offered a twisted smile in apology and shrugged. “Maybe we can work together? I’m looking for my weapons too...” Glancing down at the minute tableware in his hand, he continued, "Trust me, it's quite a bit bigger than this normally..." |
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| Keelin | Wed Mar 13, 2013 6:44 pm Post #13 |
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Keelin stopped at a cross-street and rummaged through the interior of her coat. To her relief, they hadn't taken her cigar case which contained her only personal valuables (other than her weapons). Reassured by that, she listened to Hakon speaking like some kind of educated person. An oddity, he was. "No. She was the one who said I was a priestess. I was just repeating her words." Keelin flicked the long ends of her orarion over her shoulders to get them out of the way, ignoring the blasphemous implications of wearing such clothing like it was a mere scarf. The wind caught the embroidered cloth and made it flap behind her; she squinted to keep dust out of her eye. "Thanks for helping. Follow me. We'll start in this building." Her fist hammered against the door five times in rapid succession, and then she waited. "They're not going to be in the church, even though it would be the best place to put them. Trust me." The door opened to a crack and an elderly woman peered out. Keelin roughly grabbed the edge of the door and shunted it open, eliciting a terrified noise from the building's owners. The woman behind nearly fell down, stumbling back to get away from the hunter as she entered. "Good day. I don't suppose you have any priceless artifact hook-swords lying around." She tore open cabinets, checked under furniture and pulled aside rugs in her rough search of the house. Its residents huddled in a corner, watching her. "You seem like a sword man, Hakon. Am I right?" When it was evident there was nothing hidden in the house, Keelin marched right back out the way she came, squeezing past her partner-in-crime in the process of maneuvering through the tiny cramped residence. The second house they checked turned up the same amount of nothing, so Keelin changed her tactics a bit. She skipped the other houses and made a beeline for the nearest inn, one pretentiously named 'The Languid River.' Inns had all kinds of stupid side-rooms and hidden chambers where a weapon stash could be held. Keelin entered through the unlocked door and immediately found a knife pointed at her throat. The innkeeper, familiar to her as one of the people in the small horde that greeted her when she first entered Fulreath, was a severe-looking old man with deeply tanned skin. "I'm sorry I got to resort to this, sister, but you're gonna need to step back." Keelin did, but only so her feet would be on flat ground. She grinned at him, her fingers flexing into fists. "Come at us then, brother. I dare you to stay between me and my weapons." |
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| Hakon | Sat Mar 16, 2013 3:39 pm Post #14 |
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For trying to be a good man, pushing over shelves and ransacking peaceful homes seemed a tad astray. Hakon paused for a moment in quiet contemplation as he rummaged through the chest of drawers in the second house Keelin had identified. Inside, a dozen lacy tunics and dark hose were neatly stacked beside several crisp linens and a finely polished teak box. The northman shrugged; he knew his lot, and maybe being a good man wasn’t it. He threw the clothes over one shoulder then tipped the long chest on end. Its remaining contents crashed headlong onto the floor, the finely crafted box splitting open at the seams. It vomited forth a few gold crowns and a tiny crystal bell that shattered into a thousand pieces on impact with the hardwood beneath. A few other mementos and keepsakes tumbled out and scattered across the floor like autumn’s leaves adrift in the wind. Hakon tried to ignore the frightened sobs of the family behind him as he dropped the furniture heavily down. It was truly amazing how even a dull piece of tin could be so threatening to a few villagers, but perhaps it was less the dinner knife in his fist and more the man that held it. Why do I do this? He caught the sound of the home’s front door protesting on its hinges and stalked out of the bedroom. The flash of Keelin’s coattails at the entrance alerted him that yet again, his new... comrade... had abandoned chase in the near-pillaged house. The northman followed her out into the street. By the time he’d reached the packed dirt avenue, she’d changed course for the town’s inn. ‘The Languid River,’ a peaceful-enough name for a peaceful-enough town. Shame he’d had the fortune to run into Keelin here. Shame for all of them she’d been here at all. Whatever she was, the girl wasn’t of this village. And Hakon was beginning to have suspicions that when she found her blades, she wouldn’t flinch from bleeding it dry. He shoved open the door behind Keelin and nearly ran her over. A brown-skinned farmer had a blade near her throat and even a cursory glance demonstrated there was no love lost between the two of them. Hakon spat and gripped the cutlery in a tight fist. “Hold, sir. Just let the lady get her swords and there'll be no need for harm. We don’t want this to get ugly, friend,” he whispered. Getting agitated with steel in your hand, no matter the length, was a sure way to spill some blood. And though he’d never shied away from taking a life, Hakon had little mind to slaughter the peasants. Digging through their homes was one thing but cold-hearted murder was quite another. He stole a quick look at Keelin, saw the predatory grin that twisted her lips. It didn’t take much to figure the girl didn’t share his apprehension. So that’s how it’s to be, then... A meaty grip closed around the northman’s bicep, and before he knew he’d reacted, the cutlery in his fist had buried itself handle-deep into the broad forehead of Jeb. The old merchant sputtered backward a step with a look of betrayal stamped painfully across his face. His gaze went cross-eyed before he crumbled bodily to the floor. Time seemed to slow in that long moment, and Hakon stared accusingly at a few splats of blood that had flecked across the back of his hand. Jeb’s blood. The old man who’s clothed him when he’d been naked and befriended him, of sorts, when he’d been alone. Hakon felt hollowness creep into his belly. What did I do? That’s when the inn erupted in chaos. A half-dozen townspeople, suddenly spurred into action from the grisly murder of one of their own, surged toward the open doorway. All manner of improvised weapons and short blades sprung into vengeful hands. Hakon twirled to the melee as a bull-headed farmer crashed into him. The momentum carried him over Jeb’s corpse and into the dusty street. The two of them rolled over each other, hands locked around forearms and throats, elbows and knees seeking soft loins and unprotected flanks. The farmer ended on top and sent a flurry of well-placed punches at Hakon’s face. The third crunched into the northman’s nose before he retaliated with a headbutt to his opponent’s chin. The burly farmer’s grip went slack for a moment and Hakon pulled at a handful of tangled brown hair. It came out bloody in his grasp and he sent another headbutt after the first for good measure before his assailant could recover. The farmer groaned backwards just enough to allow the northman to close his fingers around the man’s throat. He wrapped his legs around his enemy’s midsection to pin him, then throttled until the peasant grew limp. And for a few moments afterward, just for good measure. Hakon kicked off the carcass and searched it for a blade, but the farmer’s belt was bare. He slunk toward the chaos inside the inn, hoping Keelin had held her own against them. He paused midstride to wipe the carnage from his eyes but the blood only smeared messily across his face, half his own, half that of the dead farmer. It dripped onto his lips and painted his teeth red. Hell, would be better for everyone if I just made for the fields. I’m bringing myself no closer to redemption murdering a bunch of peasants... Hakon shook the thought aside. Change was hard, damn hard, and he was tired. After this whole thing was over, after he’d reclaimed his weapons and armor from that conniving witch, then he’d be a better man. But for now... The northman rushed through the open doors with a bloodthirsty howl. |
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| Keelin | Sun Mar 31, 2013 4:04 pm Post #15 |
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Within the first stroke of the innkeeper's knife, Keelin knew that he didn't have any real knowledge of fighting. Why should he? Wanting to fend her off more than just kill her, he came in with a wide slash that she blocked by placing her forearm in the way of his. He'd forgotten to put up a guard, and paid the price by taking a punch to the face. It hurt Keelin's knuckles like hell, but she focused enough to take a step and slam her body into him shoulder-first. This the innkeeper also wasn't prepared for. She followed him in while he stumbled a couple steps back, catching himself on a chest and rattling its contents. Keelin made a ch noise with clenched teeth, shaking off her hand. Behind her, a brawl erupted in the street. Just a glance around her shoulder to see what had happened was a big mistake. A strong hand seized the elf's arm as another set of fingers went for her temples. Oh, no, they wouldn't dare try that trick with her again. Keelin grabbed one of those spell-casting hands by the index finger, wrenching it until it popped. Keeping herself free of the sleep spell came at a cost as multiple people overwhelmed her. Her feet slipped out from under her but everyone was pressed so close, grabbing and pulling at her into all different directions, raining and taking blows all the same. There were no distinct faces to her: only forces and limbs and the sound of her heart beating behind her ears. The force changed and Keelin found herself stumbling backwards, both pushed and pulled that way as her boots impotently scrabbled for purchase. Someone had, in a shocking bout of heresy, grabbed her by her stole and was yanking her like a dog on a leash. She bit the nearest hand until it let her drop, trying to blink away the blood that was dribbling into her eye from a cut on her brow. The group managed to find enough unity to decide it was a good idea to actually push her down. She grabbed the edge of an endtable as she fell, but only managed to spill books and break an unlit lantern as the furniture upturned. The back of her head slammed into her floor and her hat fell off. Keelin spat blood, face twisted into an ugly snarl. There were voices and shouts but it was all stupid human-speak, too fast to listen and not enough time. A few of them had blades and it didn't take a knowledge of Common to know what they wanted to do with them. Clearly the villagers' priorities had changed away from 're-educating' them if killing was now on the table. Before any such maiming could happen in proper, Keelin spread one of her pinned hands so that her fingertips pressed to the floor. She barked sentences in the Celestial language, only interrupting herself momentarily so she could twist her head and upper body to avoid a downward stab. Almost immediately the grips on her limbs loosened, all the eyes turned down on her widening in fear, blood draining from faces. Hakon came barreling in with a guttural roar just as several were backing off and Keelin was climbing to her feet, battered and listless. The northman's entrance only made them cry out in fear further, some of the more weak-willed villagers even up and running from the building as a result of her spell. Keelin grabbed the innkeeper, preventing him from doing the same. He cowered in fear, struggling against her grip with the panicked ferocity of a cornered animal. "Hakon!" she snapped, hoping to get some help pinning him down. Her eyes tore back to the innkeeper, burning into him during the struggle. Just then the church bells starting ringing, incessant and loud enough to nearly drown out every other noise and force Keelin to shout. "Manke ier i' russe? Manke ier i' russe?!" She throttled him, her tone so demanding it almost seemed like she'd forgotten what language she was speaking. "I don't understand!" he cried out. "Flagitious wretches!" This voice, that of Kaphovah, was loud and enraged enough to shake the ground from the other side of Fulreath. Keelin froze, blanching. The church bells never stopped ringing. An angelic choir swelled up outside. In all of Keelin's experience hunting angels, she knew of only one constant: no kill was easy or clean. A single angel was a formidable enemy. A vengeful angel was the worst. Keelin muttered curses both Elvish and Common as she broke off from the innkeeper and grabbed a fallen chair. This she used to begin a rush to barricade the doors of the inn. It wouldn't delay any angel for long, perhaps a second or three, but in times like this seconds could mean life or death. She turned around and looked at Hakon with an expression of genuine alarm. If they couldn't find their weapons soon -- or, worse yet, if their weapons weren't even in this inn -- they were beyond dead. |
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2:37 PM Jul 11

