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| The Cure; [Alert] Open | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun Oct 26, 2014 9:55 pm (1,071 Views) | |
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Sun Oct 26, 2014 9:55 pm Post #1 |
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"Dey all real, get off!" Taiaka pushed the snake-eyed Faedin away from him and squared his shoulders. The elf sneered, but did not step away; he had to check everyone, especially one coming in on foot. "I have to check-" Taiaka, once again, wrenched away from the elf's appraising grip. He brought his dagger from its sheath at his hip with his left hand, and grabbed his crotch with his right, "I got something you can check, you weed eating sl-" "Ronaha!" Came a shout and Taiaka couldn't help but turn his head and look for its source. It came from a squirrel-faced Faedin with a long silver ponytail; He wore a breastplate made of dark green leaves and the longbow he held in his hands was carved with blood red runes. Crene. That was his name. He taught me how to whistle. Sponsored me when I was to become Faedin. No, not me. Taiaka put his dagger away, after giving the guardsman a wink, and folded his arms across his chest as Crene approached. He was lucky to be able to witness the exact moment Crene realized that the man who stood before him, a man he was so sure of being that little snot nosed boy he had practically raised, was not entirely that man. It was pure, angry confusion. Taiaka had Ronanha's face, his breath...but this thing was not Ronaha. "Tell your boy to let me pass." He had Ronaha's voice, but not his words. Taiaka was amused by the graying of Crene's face. He had a vast wealth of precious memories of the old elf's endearing, albeit gruff, personage. Ronaha had liked the guy, looked up to him, romanticized their relationship into something that went beyond a student and teacher, and entered realms of fatherly idolatry. Taiaka instantly hated him. "I'm sorry, who are you?" Crene had found his spine. "Taiaka Vin'Kai, sheriff of Balefire." He tapped the 8-pionted star on his chest, and smiled, "Ah have family in the quarantine zone. Ah've come to offer aid." Crene narrowed his eyes and looked Taiaka up and down. Half the man's head was shaved and a winged dragon was tattooed on the side of his skull; piercings dotted his face, reflecting the dying light like tiny shards of glass embedded along the bridge of his nose and at the top of each eyebrow; matte black leathers, two bows on his back and a quiver that bristled with multicolored arrows. This was Ronaha's father, Crene realized with stark clarity. Taiaka saw this dawning realization creep onto the Faedin's long face, the pain pulling the corners of his mouth taught and causing his nostril to flare. Taiaka nodded, the feral smiled on his lips growing, "There ya go, you figured it out." He moved forward, long-legged strides bring him should to shoulder with Crene in just a few steps. He leaned down and spoke into the elf's ear, "Ronaha was fond of you. He wants me to tell you thanks for the journal." Crene stiffened. Taiaka chuckled as he walked past him before shouting to the guard, "Open the thing!" The guard looked to Crene, but the old Faedin just stood there watching the last of the day colors slip behind the trees. With a final look of pure contempt directed at Taiaka, the guard stepped over to a hand winch and began cranking open the barricade. *** Taiaka slipped through a wheat field and stopped at its edge. There was farmhouse just up the hill. There were no lights in the windows. The old scavenger watched for a few minutes longer, bow in hand, a black arrow across its bridge. He had seen no one since he passed into the village- not a person, not a cow, not a wondering chicken pecking at seed. Ultimately though, Taiaka had no idea what to expect. Sure, he had heard the rumors, read the dispatches, but he had not yet seen anything 'infected'. Still, he was not prepared to consider the entire quarantine to simply an overabundance of caution. If the reports contained even a fraction of the truth....Well, then Taiaka would have a lovely time looting all the abandoned estates. All those lonely vaults.....Those forgotten heirloom jewels. And those weed eaters, sorry, elves, all had antiquities squirrelled away; grandma's ring with the ancient enchantment, pawpaw's book of forbidden cantrips.... He made it to the farmhouse without incident. It sat within a manicured clearing that gave Taiaka an unobstructed view of the surrounding neighborhood. He could see another farmhouse to the north; it too was dark and quiet. Beyond that, he could see the beginnings of Vanimle proper. Creeping within the shadows, Taiaka came around to the farmhouse's front door. He didn't have to check to see if it was locked- it was opened. He waited for a moment, listening, before slipping inside as quietly as he could. A paltry light spilled through opened windows, curtains of sky blue billowing lazily in the slight breeze. There was a chill in the air; summer broke some time ago. Yet, there was no scent of wood smoke in the farmhouse, the hearth was cold. Taiaka moved past the sunken kitchen without venturing inside: the sight of moldy bread and mealy apples sitting on the counter told him the occupants had left in quite a hurry. Taiaka relaxed slightly, a took a deep breath when he realized he had been holding it. There was no one home. He rifled around the cabinets in the living area but found only well used dinner plates and milk jars. The desk in the study bore no fruit either, so Taiaka headed upstairs where he was certain he'd find the bedrooms. And he was right. At the top of the stairs, a hallway led either right or left. The old scavenger went right. Fur rugs muffled his steps as he entered the master bedroom. He checked beneath the mattress and came up with a small pouch of gold, which he pocketed without hesitation. When he opened the tall, oaken wardrobe, he found a brown flat-brimmed hat with a green feather stuck beneath a braided band. Taiaka placed it crookedly on his head, and stepped back to admire himself in the polished metal mirror beside the bed. He saw her move from behind his own reflection- saw her lunge from beneath the bed in her knitted pink night gown. Taiaka moved the wrong way, the mirror betraying him, and held up an arm just in time to intercept her snapping jaws. She bit to the bone and knocked Taiaka to the ground, clawing at him and snarling. He wasted no time throwing her off of him and she landed on the bed. Taiaka clambered to his feet, heart pounding in his chest, and fired an arrow into her head. She laid motionless, mostly, her leg kept jerking and twitching beneath her nightgown. Taiaka stared at her, the farmer's wife. And she stared back with her dead, milky eyes. He had to shake himself back into action, yet as he ripped a piece of sheet to bind the wound on his forearm, he couldn't take his eyes off her. Finally though, after a snort of disgust, he went down the hall and started rummaging through the children's bedrooms. |
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| Hearne | Mon Oct 27, 2014 11:35 pm Post #2 |
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Hearne held the end of bread between his teeth, chewing idly, trying to work some spittle in to soften the wheat-based rock. “Gif me th' looking glaph.” He growled, reaching out palm-up. With his other hand, he palpated the corpse's belly. Seconds later without his knife, Hearne sighed and reached across the body to snatch it off the other side of the bed. He eyed the halfling-sized ivyn. It was frozen in place, shivers running across it's torso. Reaching out, he snapped in front of it's painted, masked face. It twitched, suddenly coming aware of it's surroundings. Rolling his eyes, Hearne shook his head. “Gon' haf ter make 'nother.” The ivyn experiments had been progressing better than expected, but he'd yet to find a properly conductive core. Picking up the looking glass, he ran his thumb over the rough glass set in the round, polished bone ring. Lifting it to his eye, he studied the flow of magic clinging to the girl's flesh. It was an ugly magic, twisted and unnerving. Muttering under his breath, he began dragging a fingernail over the magic, observing how it moved. It seemed to hunger after his finger. Grunting, he fixed the monocle in his eye and reached for his belt, plucking a horn out of a loop. He uncapped it, pinching some of the glittering dust and spreading it over her bared belly. The magic of the dust faded, sinking into her skin, devoured by the taint. Leaning back, Hearne grabbed the edge of the bed and sank his teeth into the bread, tearing away a chunk. Looking down at his hand, he froze. Some of the purplish light clung to his fingernail. Before he could try to wipe it away, it sank in. His hand was numbing. A crash came from the other side of the room as the ivyn golem jumped across the bed toward Hearne, spindly fingers outstretched. Through the looking glass, he could see the intricate runes of the golem's core, looking moth-eaten and fuzzy. On instinct, he gripped the golem's arm in one hand to steady it. Wooden veins erupted from his right hand, forming over his flesh into iron-hard claws. He buried his hand in the golem's chest, gripping the core and tearing it away. The golem went lifeless and as he watched the magic imbued in the core was dissolved, fading into his own arm. Hearne retracted the wooden claws, picking half-chewed bread out of his beard. “I'll be damned.” He puzzled over the tainted core. The old druid perked up at a thump down the hall, extending his senses through the deadened wood of the house. Abandoning the corpse on the bed, he placed one hand on the young woman's dresser and another digging into a horn of Barrier Salt, feeling the footsteps searching each room as it moved through the house. “If you're here for the executions, yer a bit late.” He croaked out. (Sorry I'm awful D:) |
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Tue Oct 28, 2014 10:51 pm Post #3 |
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Taiaka stopped in his tracks, turned to face the source of the comment, and chewed the glob of peanut taffy he found in the children's room as quickly as possible. Executions? What in the cold hell? "Ah'm a, aid worker, here on'tha Faedin." His hand snaked around and removed an arrow from the quiver on his hip. He held it parallel with his thigh as he stalked out of the bedroom and entered the hallway. "We're looking for survivors. Name's Taiaka." The old scavenger said, his voice loud enough to carry through the quiet farmhouse, but not much more. He kicked himself for not hearing anyone enter, but wasn't surprised; Taiaka had been muttering a stream of nasty obscenities as he picked through dressers and end tables. The wound on his arm smarted, he could feel it with every heartbeat and he didn't like it. Which was odd- his markings should be masking the pain, or at least transforming it into a dull throb that Taiaka enjoyed. "Just here to help, son." There was a type of purposeful clarity to his words: He wanted the stranger to know exactly where he was. His steps too, as he moved down the hallway to stand in cover outside the master bedroom, were steady and heavy on the old wood flooring. He placed the arrow across the bridge of his bow, back against the wall (and he had a decent view of down the stairs from this position), "We on the same side, yah?" Taiaka called to the stranger, and despite his tense muscles and strained expression, he wished it to be so. |
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| Hearne | Tue Oct 28, 2014 11:33 pm Post #4 |
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Hearne relaxed his hold on the wooden dresser. The magic he'd been holding at the ready dispersed, somehow seeming less than it had been. Releasing the pinch of salt, he capped the horn and brushed his hand off, moving instead to the polished hilt of his bone knife. The man didn't seem to be coming in. “Aid workers.” He shook his head. Walking backward to the bedside, he plucked his glass off the edge of the bed and pocketed it. “Been 'ere long enough to see nobody's getting help.” He scooped the ruined core off the ground, sighing as he turned it this way and that. There would be no saving it. Spitting a frustrated curse, he stuffed it into a pouch. “Aye, we're on the same side. Came in from th' woods to trade herbs. Settled and got told I couldn't leave. People been dyin'.” He watched the door, edging forward as the man's voice receded. He was immediately wracked with pain, blossoming out from his chest. Grasping a clawed hand to his breast, the druid grunted and sat back. He whispered a chant, bringing power to bear. He focused on the pain, feeding the gnawing emptiness. The pain began to recede slowly, ebbing away. After a short moment he wiped the back of his hand across his brow. Pushing forward, he gripped the hilt of his knife and made his way to the doorway. Entering the hallway, he rolled his eyes and held his hands forward, palms up. “If yer goin' to shoot me, go ahead. If not, get yer arse over here.” His left arm began to relax and lower slowly, going numb. Dropping his gaze to it, he rubbed the palm of his deadened hand. Immediately his arm gave a spasm, clenching fingers around his stroking fingers and flexing every muscle. Hearne growled in discomfort, taking the power in his center and expanding it's control to his left arm. He took control of the plant fibers buried in the workings of his limb, forcing his hand to unclench. “They comin' ter get us out of here or make sure we don't leave?” |
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Sat Nov 1, 2014 10:00 pm Post #5 |
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Taiaka couldn't help but smile a little and relax...Until the palsy that struck the man's arm, and the grimace and growl it brought with it. His eyes widened as his own wound seemed to respond to the stranger's growing infection; shiny black filaments began snaking their way out from beneath his makeshift bandage and the muscles of his forearm cramped up painfully. As he stood from his crouch, Taiaka gave his own yelp and lost his grip on his bow. He looked mortified as he bent over to pick it up, his breathing fast and shallow. He swallowed and leveled his gaze at the stranger, "They be making sure you don't leave. The ones doing something. Most be doing nothing. Ah guess they be waiting for it to burn itself out. Ah heard a whistle from the east a little while ago. Maybe they be having better luck." It was true: Norwood and it's auxiliary allies were not equipped to deal with the outbreak and the term 'dead zone' had been used by Faedin rangers more than once in reference to finding survivors. Though, Taiaka wasn't shocked at the long-eared Faedin's provincial plan of waiting for more information before acting- such was their forte. Still, the old scavenger had legitimately found a survivor, the man said it himself- trading herbs or some other nonsense, when he was caught in the quarantine. "Ah see you met the missus," Taiaka pointed with his chin towards the master bedroom as he swung around and made for the stairs, "The old girl attacked me. She got you too?" As he said this, he could feel the fibers in his wound shift, and begin to crawl into the bracer on his wrist (although he did not know that the infection was lovingly feeding off of the enchantments on his leather bracers, sapping it of its arcane properties, growing fiercer, spreading deeper). When he came to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped by the opened front door and scanned the land that surrounded the farmhouse. Night had fallen, but the moons were pearly and bright, lending a silvery glow to the outlying structures (one Taiaka recognized as an outhouse, and the other a shed where the former residents must have cured their hides and stored their firewood.) But the moons also cast their light down on the four elves standing at the edge of the wheat field that Taiaka had come through. They must have followed him, tracked him somehow...Preposterous! The four elves, no doubt infected, stood motionless, although their pale eyes seemed to stare directly at Taiaka- it was difficult to tell at this distance. Regardless, Taiaka turned to the survivor, his voice a whisper, "We can't stay here." There were many reasons why they couldn't, "We gotta figure out something," this he said more to himself than the stranger. "Maybe we can make a run for the other farmhouse." The old scavenger licked his lips, they felt dry and chapped, "From there head into the village proper." But he did not sound convinced. |
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| Hearne | Thu Nov 6, 2014 3:01 pm Post #6 |
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“'N a manner of speakin.” Hearne jerked his chin at the crumpled mass of his golem assistant, forcing the fibers to flex his fist a couple times. “Been hanging around after they found the sickness. Seein' if I could help. My assistant's been goin' a bit haywire. Lost control a moment ago and had to put him down, but I think it might have gotten to me.” He pulled aside the fur mantle hanging on his shoulders to show the man his Heart, the flower-like core in his breast. Hard and wooden, it was covered in runes and woven through with nature magic. “I can manage for now, but 'm not sure how long until I go too.” Hearne grimaced, flesh of his torso giving a twitch. the muscles around his breast cavity rippled, expelling a clear fluid. Gripping a linen curtain from a window, he wiped the trickle away. His system was fighting the disease, trying to filter out the infection. It would be a few minutes yet until he was sure he could overcome it. Outstretching his left arm, vines sprouted from his breast and ran along his skin, covering the flesh in armor. the woody vines hardened as they reached his hand, smoothing and sharpening until each finger was a blade-like claw with miniscule thorns running along the backs. Following the man at a wary pace, Hearne paused at the sight outside. “Might make a run.” He agreed, allowing the armor to spread over his flesh. Reaching to his belt, he unfastened a mask hanging beside an herb pouch. The mask, carved from the body of his Heartwood back in the vale, was shaped into a mask with a single crack running throug one eye, blackened at the edges. Placing it over his face, vines sprouted and covered the rest of his head, completing his vined armor. The skin of vines, interrupted here and there by wooden knots, looked much like bared muscle. The iron-hard vines extended over his right hand as well, forming a second set of claws. “Glad we're on the same side, Taiaka.” he gave the man a side-eye, turning the statement into a subtle question. Turning his gaze to the milky-eyed elves, his hands flexed eagerly. “They yours?” |
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