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| From the Runes of Winter; (returning topic, open) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun Nov 2, 2014 6:10 pm (341 Views) | |
| Nia | Sun Nov 2, 2014 6:10 pm Post #1 |
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As the first true winter storm in many years hit the thick marshlands, the muck and mire froze solid. For three days the marsh was frozen over. Those reptiles not hardy or clever enough to survive perished. Most had simply traveled south as the chill crept in, following an instinct that drove them to warmer waters. On the fourth day, the cold lost it's grip on the swamp. Slush formed of melting ice and snow, thick and dark with mud. The corpses of dead crocodiles became welcome feasting grounds for warm blooded verman, staining much of what little white slush remained a crimson red. Among this a form rose from the depths of a flooded castle's half collapsed tower. Coated in muck the figure trod slowly up the slime coated stone steps. Stopping at a toppled over safe box, knelt and righted it. Placing a hand over the lock, the mechanism worked and the chest opened. In the safe box was a wax paper wrapped bundle, and a oiled vellum book. Closing the box the figure continued it's search. A set of sheathed daggers, a gourd drinking flask, an empty lantern, and a small battered white leather bag were eventually added to the small safe box. Satisfied with this, the figure romped out into the cold rain and looked around under the bare trees for the now badly camouflaged contraption hidden there. By the time the Magical Sleigh was found and it's camouflage removed, rain was pouring heavily in the marsh. Snow long melted and only very watery slush remained. The rain had washed the figure, and once the sleigh was freed, it too was cleansed in the rain. Directing it carefully, the blue skinned woman, long white hair a heavy curtain about her shoulders and down her back, arrived on a road just outside the marsh. She followed it for a short time, until she came across a corpse of evergreens. Drawing the sleigh into the hollow between the pines, she drew herself into a small circle in the seat and fell asleep. Meanwhile, the cold front passed and the rain dwindled. It was the bright sunlight filtering down that woke her with a start. She looked around herself with wide eyes until they came to rest on the chest mostly tucked under the sleigh's seat. Nia leaned back in the seat then, the cold and damp something she could easily ignore. Her head hurt, her entire being hurt. Slowly, the bits came together and she realized why. She had died. She didn't know how or why she was back now, but she knew she had been killed in that tower, had shattered and melted away as her attacker complained about the waste of her death... She shook her head, only then realizing the state of her hair. Not willing to move too far yet, she finger combed the knots, tangles, and debris from her damp hair. As she did so she played and replayed her death over in her mind. She was having trouble recalling what had brought her to the swamp. Oh well, in time it would come back to her, just as her strength was. It still begged the question, "What now?" |
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Sun Nov 2, 2014 6:50 pm Post #2 |
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Amid the endless quiet of a “soft” winter in the woodlands, ice flowed in streams and babbling brooks carried away the debris that the rain had broken apart. Washed away was much of the filth and loose things of the forest, along with corpses frozen in the sudden chill and stones whose foundations no longer existed. The silt, the mud, the debris, and the corpses floating along were not the only sounds; a light drizzle was all that was left of the rain now, mostly falling from the trees, and a light wind rustled the branches. Somewhere off in the distance, an owl hooted. Although the sun was out, there were still shadowy places where owls rested without sleeping. Then again, sometimes they slept and sometimes they did not. Peace and quiet were prevalent. However, they were about to be shattered. Moose were among the strongest animals of their long-legged kin, and bull moose were stronger still. Bears were just as strong. But it was rare to find a rhinoceros in the forest, and that was the oddity that had found its way into the Norwood on this particular morning. A battle cry resounded throughout the forest, echoing among the trees and startling several animals; they fled in terror, not knowing what the sound was or from whence it came. But nothing yet was seen by anyone with a mind for thinking. Then came a resounding crash and the slow cracking and creaking and groaning of a falling tree. It landed in a narrow corridor among the trees, splashing in the stream created by the downward flow of melted ice over those small rocks that still held firm their position. Then came a deep bellow, a bleat of anger, and the sound and feel of thudding feet. A rush of leaves was heard and the breaking of wood. Then there came an equally deep and boisterous laugh, one followed swiftly by another war cry. The creature bleated again and charged once more. But the source of the laughing grunted and snarled as it locked bodies with the creature. The animal was turned around and thrown with effort into view. It was a huge rhinoceros that now fell upon its side and rolled over onto its other side, and it slipped and stumbled to its feet as a flying woman came in for a tackle. Again the rhinoceros went down, and again it rolled and tumbled - this time down the jagged and narrow hill of the forest floor and with a fire-haired woman attached to it. When the pair came up again, the woman was on her feet in an instant. She was tall, this woman, and built like a brick wall. The muscles on her arms and stomach, her thick legs, her wild-looking crimson locks, and the jade-like eyes that gleamed were nothing to the mad grin that adorned her pale red lips, however. They were unnaturally red, those lips, but they were red. They weren’t bloody, either. They were just red. It was a natural red hue. But enough about her luscious lips. The woman launched herself at the rhinoceros as it struggled to get to its feet. She grappled with it heavily, digging in her feet and pushing it backward. Then she shoved it down the embankment and leapt into the stream behind it. The rhinoceros charged her, confused and disoriented, and she jumped to the side. She laughed again - a deep, strong, and hearty laugh - as it embedded its horn in the soil and tangled roots and branches. After a moment or two, bleating in anger, it managed to wrench its head free. Then it turned on the woman once more, and she promptly hit it so hard that it stumbled and went off in the other direction. It didn’t fall but it certainly wasn’t going to fight this madwoman any longer. The rhinoceros stumbled off into the woods somewhere, and the woman let it go. She had taught the rhinoceros its lesson, and it would not be bothering her again. She still had a grin on her face when she started washing up a little. Despite the debris, much of the water in the stream was surprisingly clean. Once her face and hair were soaked and cleaner than the rest of her, the woman rose to her full height of six feet and could be plainly seen. She had beauty marks across her body that were hidden by some of the mud and what-not; she picked off a piece of a branch that was stuck to her and tossed it into the stream. Her long duster, sleeveless and brown, matched the pants that she wore; but her half-tunic, also sleeveless, was of a lighter color. The boots she wore were also brown. She stepped through the stream and up onto the other side as she popped her neck. Though still in a clearly very jovial mood, curiosity now filled her face as she looked upon the sleigh that was hidden among some close-grown trees. It was a small copse, just large enough to hide such a thing, and there seemed to be a woman inside it. The girl in the sleigh was more bedraggled than the woman standing on the bank of the stream was! She bent her knee as she put her left foot forward and her hands on her hips, lounging casually with the weight on her right leg. “Now this is something you don’t see every day,” she said to the woman. “Well, then again, so is a woman with big muscles fighting a rhino in the woods.” Never had a truer statement been spoken - or so the woman believed. "Vivian Two-Heart." That was her name. |
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| Nia | Sun Nov 2, 2014 7:19 pm Post #3 |
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Nia looked up from what she was doing as a loud crashing sound resounded through the woods. She readied a spell in her hand, but held her fist closed around it so she could dismiss it if she didn't need it. When the cause of the chaos showed up, she watched wide eyed. Her head already ached, she didn't need this. Perhaps she should just go? She let the spell go, uncast, in a swirl of pale blue frost that melted before it hit the ground. Making sure her supplies were still stored safely, she was about to discreetly leave when a strange almost-silence fell over the woods. She glanced up, missing how the fight had ended, but sheing that the stranger was talking to her. She felt a frown tug at her lips, but tried to keep her expression neutral. She felt like she was dressed in rags compared to this woman, and it bothered her. She needed to find her other stashes, she needed to regain what she had lost... what ever that was. But something about this woman reminded her of a man, and Nia had a biased mistrust of men. They always wanted something, something physical like money or even your life. Women didn't normal need that sort of thing. Conversation was often good enough, or news. She was worried that she was about to loose what few things she now owned to this brute of a woman. She didn't know if she had regained enough of her strength to fight back. Realizing that she was letting the time between when the woman spoke and her reply stretch to long she said, "If you are around long enough few things in this world are strange." |
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Sun Nov 2, 2014 7:48 pm Post #4 |
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She nodded and chuckled at the girl’s words. “True enough,” she said. The girl was pretty but didn’t seem to be dressed very well. Her moist attire suggested that she slept out here often. If she did, she probably knew the area better than Vivian did. Then again, Vivian had been all over Imythess and knew a great many places very well indeed. The elves didn’t like her or her people; they thought the Thunderfoot was too rough-and-tumble, too rowdy, and too violent. But the elves did respect their desire to commune with nature and their disciplined lack of weapons. Oh, they had spears and daggers, but not for fighting. They were survivalists, and that was something the elves knew made them dangerous. But despite their readiness to best anyone, man or beast or something else entirely, with their bare hands and arms and feet and bodies alone, they were not an evil people. Well, some of them had worse manners than even the majority of the tribe - but there were always a few disrespectful idiots in any crowd. It didn’t help that many of them were known to mate with trolls and ogres alike…which, come to think of it, was how Vivian had come to exist. “Need a hand?” was all she said now. The woman definitely looked as though she could use a nicely cooked leg of lamb and a steaming pot of coffee. A few pints of stout might do her some good, too. Actually…never-mind. She didn’t look strong enough to take the stout. She certainly was no dwarf, and even dwarves couldn’t out-drink Vivian’s people. It was their one point of pride among the rougher-around-the-edges races that inhabited Imythess. They might not be as tall or as strong as giants, as “pretty” as gnomes, or have as impressive a collection of beards as the dwarves, but they could out-fight and out-drink just about anything. |
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| Nia | Sun Nov 2, 2014 10:52 pm Post #5 |
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Well, at least this oversized woman hadn't attacked outright. Nia sighed softly to herself and tried to offer a polite smile. "Depends, I guess. How much do you know about the lands north of the Dragonspine?" She tried to act a little casual, leaning forward slightly and resting her arms on her knees where she sat on the sleigh when she poised her own question. Part of her still wanted to leave though. She didn't know how long she had been dead, if she was living now or undead still, and how much of her powers she had actually retained. She doubted this barbaric of a being kept track of a standard calendar. That awful giant of a rat who had killed her off had torn a bunch of pages from her spell book and she wasn't sure if she recalled the missing spells herself yet. Not that she was too inclined to try with the ache in her skull. Being a creature who gained arcane boosts from the recently deceased caused her to debate trying to kill this strange woman to fuel her magic, but it would take more then a heal spell or two to get rid of how she felt. Even her little drum... Darn! She hadn't found that! Should she go back and look for it? No, no. If she could make her way to Cascadia she could probably buy another one there. Besides, it had been her go-to weapon whit that fight. That enormous rat probably destroyed it out of spite. |
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| Faustine Hirsch | Mon Nov 3, 2014 1:20 am Post #6 |
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Crap, not again...please delete this. >.<
Edited by Faustine Hirsch, Mon Nov 3, 2014 1:20 am.
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Mon Nov 3, 2014 1:21 am Post #7 |
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Did she know… A slow grin spread across the barbarian’s face. To ask a question like that was purely innocent, she was sure, but it hardly mattered. The question was highly amusing to Vivian, for the Dragonspine Mountains were the original home of the Thunderfoot. Her tribe was nomadic, it was true, but they always ended up coming back to the mountains at some point. Winter was their favorite season; it was cold and brutal and a true test of their strength, endurance, and will to live. They absolutely loved it - even more than they loved getting drunk and beating people to death. “Aye, I know those lands,” she said, trying hard not to laugh. It was in the Dragonspine Mountains that she had grown up and learned to fight. Her father had been executed in a trial combat for wielding a spear. He had perished before a smaller but much quicker and more agile opponent, and he had fallen a hundred feet from the tall pegs used for testing dexterity in combat. When he landed, his body had been pierced by every jagged rock that existed at the bottom of the death pit. It was not a pleasant memory, for she had been forced to watch her father perish in order to teach her the punishment for dishonoring oneself. The Thunderfoot did not wield any weapons, either in battle or to survive. They hunted by their strength alone, bodily taking down great beasts and using sharp rocks to cut the hides and perform other necessary tasks; everything they used was a natural tool or material. It wasn’t that they were too primitive or stupid to wield weapons; they simply did not believe in doing so. The closer they were to nature, the more blessed they became by the deities. That was why the Thunderfoot was such a powerful tribe. It had nothing to do with their weapon skills, magic, or divine or infernal advantages; they had none of those. What they did have was raw power and a will to survive that surpassed that of most of the other tribes in the mountains. It was why they were a thousand strong in all, even with clans being only a couple of hundred strong each. There were seven clans in all, and every one of them was a formidable force. Their winter games were a spectacular site to behold. They could weather anything and take down any opponent or prey without so much as an arrow head to fight with. “Do you need a guide?” she asked the girl. |
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| Nia | Mon Nov 3, 2014 3:37 am Post #8 |
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The stranger might be familiar with the place, but Nia had her doubts. However, she had been wondering how exactly this woman had fought off that large beast. She also didn't seem to favor the arms and armor many a so called valiant warrior did. Perhaps she should devise a bit of a verbal test for her, to see if this was really worth her time. She stood casually, her smile not quite as pleasant as it should be, though she tried anyways. "Oh, no. I don't need a guide for the Dragonspine or the North Reaches." She let her form dissolve into a flurry of snow, the bright white blew over to swirl in the air between the sleigh and the woman. There she reformed and gave a slight bow, physically unarmed as her few salvaged weapons were packed away still. "I AM ice and snow after all, you may call me Nia." "My problem is a little more distressing. There is a woman, a self proclaimed Ice Queen. She told me I must bow down to her or die. I did neither," she waved dismissively before continuing, "but I was forced from my homeland to this frequently uncomfortably warm land. She refused to fight me, instead sent an army to kill me. Now she refuses to meet me out here, mocking me from the cold lands and having her men patrolling the border so I cannot return." She watched the woman carefully, hoping to gain more information. If she responded like Nia hoped, perhaps she would be able to gain assistance with reclaiming her home. If not, then she truly would just go, as this would have all been a waist of her time. |
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Mon Nov 3, 2014 6:58 am Post #9 |
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When the woman dissolved before her very eyes, those eyes flashed with a quick uncertainty. Like all (well, most) barbarians, she was often suspicious of magic. It wasn’t a personality trait or something she could consciously think or unthink; it was simply the way her people were, an inherent dislike of things that they could not readily explain or easily pummel. There were exceptions, of course, rare though they were. Shamans were gifted with healing, artifacts, and marks of power that made them far more resilient and far more powerful than a small army of barbarians, giants, trolls, ogres, orcs, or anything else that dared stand against them. But power beyond what mortals should be capable of being thrown about wildly, distributed among both those who were wise and those who were foolish…it was not something any barbarian would ever be fond of. Still, the woman wasn’t trying to attack her - or so it seemed. But now she was uncertain. This woman could very well be a witch who waylaid travelers. There could be all manner of foul deaths just waiting to befall Vivian on behalf of this woman. Who knew what powers she possessed? Who knew what she could and could not do with them? But she wasn’t one to back down easily either. Her smile mostly remained and nodded at the woman’s words. She should give this a chance. Perhaps she was naïve; perhaps she was a wee bit too brazen for her own good. Either way, being ousted from one’s home wasn’t something the Thunderfoot would have put up with. Of course, spread across the Dragonspines as they were and a thousand strong at that, it wasn’t likely they’d ever be ousted anyway. But that was completely beside the point. The point was that this woman had just made her wary despite supposedly having been made a fugitive by this “Ice Queen”. How could she fight a sorceress powerful enough to call herself (or be called) by such a title? But perhaps this woman could. What, then, would she need her for? The “men”? She could certainly handle any warrior that came her way. “What would I be fighting, exactly?” she inquired. “I am no witch.” |
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| Nia | Mon Nov 3, 2014 4:03 pm Post #10 |
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The women's bravo seemed to waver a bit, but she didn't back down. So, she wants a fight still. Wonderful! Nia smiled, a not forced one this time. "Ah, I would assume you were not one to stand behind others like that. I'm no witch either, I am an elemental of sorts. I am made of snow and ice. This stranger though, this Ice Queen. I am certain she cannot beat me in one on one combat. However, she refuses to fight me. She is no doubt some sort of ice witch in truth. It's the number of her guards is a little too much for me. They have protection from cold in their armor and attack me with fire. Also, twelve to one is a little out of my favor. At least that was how many were sent to kill me." She started to pace back and forth, white frost footprints left behind her, though melting quickly in the only chilled, and not truly cold, air. "I am looking to even the odds. To find a party of combatants who can fight off those guards so I can confront this so called Ice Queen." She paused and looked at Vivian, her hands resting on her hips. "I don't even think she really is a Queen. I think she just took the title from the woman calling herself the White Queen who attacked Striberg a while back." Nia didn't want to admit that she doubted she could win against the Ice Queen in tunnels or her fortress. She had to get that darnable woman out in the elements so she could call a storm upon her and drain her powers away. Also, the deaths of the guards might still prove useful if Nia was still undead... she wasn't quite sure yet. She might have to hunt down some holy artifact to test it. |
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Mon Nov 3, 2014 4:27 pm Post #11 |
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Vivian nodded grimly. Although she hadn’t been directly involved in the war on Striberg, she’d heard about it and had dealt with some of the aftermath. Soldiers who no longer had a place to go were known as the Stranded now, and there had supposedly been all kinds of political turmoil over it. Personally, Vivian couldn’t care less about politics and didn’t involve herself (nor did the rest of her people) in the affairs of the so-called “nobles” of Imythess. She had also been well beyond the reach of the Dragonspines at that time, hunting with some of her people on the Debon plains. It had been the dead of winter and they had needed everyone; by the time they had returned to the Dragonspines, most of the fighting was already done. She was grateful that Striberg had not only survived but thrived, although she would have loved to punch a few soldiers. That was neither here nor there now. She spoke of a party of adventurers, not just one. The fire was troubling. In order to protect herself, she might need some arcane assistance. She was no sorceress, after all; she was a warrior, a barbarian - and more specifically, if one wanted to get rude about it, a brawler. She was good at grappling, at turning her opponents’ own attacks against them and then pummeling them until they were unconscious or dead. She was great at using her fists and feet alike, her knees and her elbows, her head and her shoulders, and even her body as a whole. She was an expert in unarmed combat and knew how to close the distance, making it very uncomfortable for even a melee fighter - never-mind a ranged attacker. But magic? That was a whole other issue entirely. “This fire you speak of,” she continued, “how do they wield it? Are you talking about lit arrows or spears, magical fire, ranged or melee attacks…?” The question was certainly a valid one. Even with a mage assisting the two women, they would all need to know what they were up against. Vivian was always looking for a fight (and not in a bad way) but that didn’t mean she was stupid about it. If she could figure out some things about her enemies before she engaged them, things that she could use or that could help her stay alive in a difficult fight, she was flaming well going to need that knowledge before the fight got started. |
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| Nia | Mon Nov 3, 2014 5:16 pm Post #12 |
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Nia stopped and thought about it. She had a deathly fear of fire, mostly because it could kill her rather easily and quickly. She was sort-of-alright near things like lanterns and oil lamps, and she could sense when it was a cold-fire and had no fear of that. Nia frowned slightly, her left hand coming up too her chin and she stopped moving in thought. "They did have flaming arrow, but the snow didn't put them out. I think it was fire enchantments on normal weapons. Mostly swords I think, so that would mean magical fire. Normal fire doesn't last long in the northern lands. One good storm and it's gone." She shook her head, her hand dropping to her side and her mostly dry hair cascading over her shoulders, it's slight curl coming back as it dried. Absently she tossed it back behind her. "I'm sorry, I might be able to scout them out if they were near, but I didn't hang around while they were charging to see what weapons each man held." She was a bit annoyed by that fact. She SHOULD know that sort of thing. How can one fight a foe if you don't know what you are going up against? She didn't even know if that was their normal weapons. They could have normal or ice weapons and had only brought those out because the Ice Queen had known that she had a weakness to fire. Most northern natives had that same weakness, so Nia's true fear of the open flame might be unknow still. She hoped so. A true fire mage might be too much for her to cope with. Nia suppressed a shudder. |
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Mon Nov 3, 2014 5:36 pm Post #13 |
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Vivian nodded. That was true enough. It was rumored that there were torches that would never burn out but Vivian had never seen one before. Normal torches could be put out by one strong northern wind, regardless of whether a storm was present, and the intense cold stole heat far more quickly than anywhere else. The Northern Reaches in particular were infamous for a cold so biting that even leathers and furs didn’t help much. She wore buffalo hide up there but usually had two or three layers of the stuff atop her other clothing, and she’d worn a heavy cloak on top of all of that for her few trips across the Ice Plains. But if there were fire arrows, that would make sense; after all, arrows were only lit when they were to be shot. At least, that was the smart way to do it. She might not have any skill with a weapon but she did know a little about them because of the people who’d wielded them. She could also understand not wanting to stick around if she was outnumbered. Even Vivian knew when she was about to die; she wasn’t dumb enough to stick around on her own during those times. She was usually the last one to ask for help - a fact that was true for many barbarians, not just her - but she was a lot smarter than most people gave credit for (and so were her people). “Then we’ll definitely need some help,” she told the girl. “Know any magic-wielders?” She couldn’t believe she was asking that question. If any of the Thunderfoot had heard her, they would have looked at her as though she’d lost her mind in the warmer climates of Imythess and she’d likely never be allowed to leave the Dragonspines again. But she couldn’t fight magic - not alone. Against the mundane, there were few who could take her down easily. She had hunted and killed great beasts with her bare hands and no help from anyone, for that was often a necessity in the Dragonspines; she had ended the lives of countless opponents; she had bested some of the finest weapon-wielding fighters in this part of Chaon. So had a lot of her fellow barbarians. But magic? That wasn’t something she could easily fight back against. If they were to do this, the girl was right about needing a party - not just one powerful fighter. Speaking of the girl… “Oh…I didn’t catch your name.” |
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| Nia | Mon Nov 3, 2014 6:50 pm Post #14 |
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Nia had decided that she liked this Vivian something-or-other, not bothering to label her as a stranger anymore in her mind now that she might be a valuable ally. She wasn't a dumb brute. Not much of a conversationalist, but she was thoughtful and asked questions that were straight to the point. She liked that, no underhanded stuff. "I would normally go to Striberg for that, but sadly I cannot reach that city right now." Nia said, her face turning towards the north. She sighed audibly that time, not feeling quite as guarded as before. "I was thinking I may try looking for someone in Cascadia or see how well Taras is doing. Both have fairly good trade and might have some able bodies and minds to help out." She gave a shrug. Cascadia was probably closer, but from what she had heard, Taras now took over a large section of the western coast. That Taras was more then just a city, but a forest sized city. No, she needed to go to a trade city to regain her supplies. The leather bag she had successfully salvaged had some of her wealth, though sadly most of it had been left behind when she flead. Nia had been to Cascadia before. She liked that the city was so close to the clouds. Teras was more of a curiosity in her mind, though she might well find something useful there as well. Her thoughts were interrupted by a request for her name, she had given it, though it may have been missed because of her becoming snow and returning again. "Oh, I'm Nia. Nia Frostborn." She offered her gauntlet covered hand in greeting, though the gauntlets didn't do much against the cold she radiated. It was quite impossible for her to have any warmth in her body after all... Wait! That was how she came back from her death! It was the cold weather! She was born of frost, or cold, of winter! That probably meant she was still technically undead, but that had to be it! She suddenly felt better. |
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| Vivian Two-Heart | Mon Nov 3, 2014 10:26 pm Post #15 |
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It was an odd thing, a hand-shake. Still, a greeting was a greeting and now she had a name to go with the face. She smirked as she took the girl’s - Nia's – hand. It was ice-cold but considering what she’d said (and done), that wasn’t exactly surprising. The chill in her flesh was nothing to the grace with which she moved or the beauty with which she was blessed, but Vivian doubted very much that she’d be good in bed. How you could be good in bed if you didn’t have any body heat, after all? But enough of those thoughts. This was a job, and a job paid gold or perhaps scored something else that was useful. Then again, she was always up for a fight and she could understand why someone might be a little steamed (er…figuratively speaking) about having been thrown out of their own flaming home. What Abyssal luck this woman had, Vivian would replace with a little bit of muscle and a whole lot of excitement at the prospect of knocking some heads together. First, though, they needed a place to pick some things up. She scratched her jaw for a moment, thinking. She’d never really liked Taras - too big and noisy and crowded. But she’d traded there a time or two. She’d also been to Cascadia once; she liked the city but the ride up hadn’t exactly been pleasant. You try sitting still when the only thing separating you and the few dozen miles straight to the top of a cliff was a thin floor of old wooden planks. It didn’t help that the cliff went down another thousand feet but at least there was water at the bottom of the falls. That hadn’t been much comfort, though. There was also Kellen but that wasn’t really a place to pick up a witch or a sorceress or anyone like that. That was more for basic supplies than anything else. She’d done a lot of trading with Kellenites while on the Debon Plain. She’d never been to this one place she’d heard about - Balefire, or something like that - but she’d heard bad stories about that. Even being able to see in a pitch-black place as she could, she didn’t necessarily like the idea of trying to wade through demons and necromancers just to hire a wizard that might be willing to help. Probably wants a soul in return, Vivian thought darkly to herself. No…Taras was great but it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. “Cascadia’s probably your best bet,” she said, “though I wish it was a bit closer to the ground.” |
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8:21 AM Jul 11

