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| Of Hunts and Haunts | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Wed Mar 22, 2017 11:48 pm (406 Views) | |
| Phedre | Wed Mar 22, 2017 11:48 pm Post #1 |
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The sun was nearly entirely above the horizon by the time the woman broke “camp.” The term is used loosely, for she arose from only a cloak beneath a tree, her ebon hair in slight disarray. She leaned back with a groan, stretching her arms above her head, easing the night’s stiffness from her bones. With another irksome sound she bent the other way, hanging loosely over her toes. Nature’s bed was enough comfort for the woman, indeed she preferred it to an inn most days, but mornings after nights of combat often required the flexion and extension routine she now practiced to lubricate her joints. It was not a busy night, in terms of bounties, but the locales proved rambunctious in their protest of an outsider’s appearance. She was not in the mood, for when was she ever, and thusly responded with the heavy thud of her right fist... connecting with the fleshy meat of a protestors cheek. The conflict awakened her senses; she was always one to enjoy a good row, and the villagers determined their probability for success as high. And so the skirmish truly began as farmer and beggar joined in to the haphazard tussle in the village square. It would be untrue to claim the woman exited none the worse for wear, for indeed a few solid strikes connected to her gut. Most unfortunate was the blow which landed firmly against her temple. She was certainly not expecting any of the crew she faced to pack such a punch, in fact she remained unsure that she was hit with a human appendage at all, and not a jug or basin of some kind. It was all a bit of a blur after that. She was no longer having fun and drew her blade, which caused the gang to second guess their quarrel and take flight. When she surveyed the damage post exit, there was a sluggish ooze of blood, but no boney crepitus, and for that she was grateful. It was a reminder she should not have needed, for it was not common that she lacked such a grasp on her surroundings. She had made her way to the wood thereafter and slept with her blade on her belly, ready should the men return to test her again. Phedre slowly reached up to her temple, wincing in prediction of the pain to come. Her skull vibrated with a constant ache and touching the wound only led her to curse. She pulled her fingers away and peered down at them with her pale blue stare. There was no blood, the wound had clotted and ceased to flow. That was one check in the win column. Her hand moved to her hair, the black curtain snarled in unruly knots. She had taken to braiding trinkets into their lengths since one of her pockets betrayed a belonging, gifting it to well trained pick pocket in the town two past. Her clutch reached a small ivory orb, the hair wrapped through two tiny holes at its front. She found the songbird skull a fortnight ago and spent hours sliding it through her fingers pondering her histories and the potential history of the small feathered being. The bone was so thin, a fragile reminder of what little protects one from the looming shadow of mortality. Abandoning the braid and bobble, she looped a strip of leather around the mass of locks and imprisoned them in a knot atop her head. At the next inn she would have to ask for a comb, but until then, this would do. At times she thought of cutting it, shearing the lengths that so often caused her nuisance. She had seen some female fighters take the upper hand when their counterpart was left with blurred vision from loose tendrils snagging in long lashes. The thought always remained a thought though, for the ebon tides that flowed from her crown carried much more significance than mere convenience and beauty. And so the knot stayed, atop her head, silken though in disarray... a fair metaphor for her present existence. After stretches and grooming, the woman sheathed her weapons to her body and tightened the straps of their hilts. She pulled a small scrap of parchment from her waistband and idly reviewed its contents. She was following another bounty, but then again, when was she not. The man had been accused of dark magic, necromantic experimentation with the intent to seek vengeance on those who he felt had wronged him. He was deemed an apostate and needed to be stopped. She paused, reading the very bottom of the page. “Dead or Alive,” it read, which always brought a smile to Phedre’s lips, for in her mind this always read as “DEAD or DEAD,” which was far more convenient, and even more so... fun. Death was easy. No prisoners, no binding, no talking, no feeding. Her biggest concern would be to return the body for proof of death before it started to rot and lose its shape. Thank the gods she had the dire tiger to help with that. He was not at all disturbed by the task, but she oft had to keep a close eye on the creature... he once consumed half a grown orc before she realized and could intervene. Dead, dying or alive, it didn’t seem to trouble the beast what he consumed, and a free meal was a free meal. She could not fault him for that. But the tiger was loose in the wilds for now, hunting for his own game, and he would find her when he was finished... he never strayed far. “Perhaps he will return to the village and eat the fool with a fondness for cracking skulls,” she mused, a soft laugh parting her lips. She checked her belongings once more and once satisfied, headed off deeper into the trees. Her last interviewee copped to selling the wanted man supplies. He initially claimed he did not know the intended use of such items, but upon introduction to Phedre’s poison laced blade he was eager to inform her of his true knowledge. There was no swift punishment for the man, he was not her bounty and his pathetic form was already aquiver. It was not of her tasking to enforce honorable employ, and she in actuality, cared naught. The misdeeds of others kept her paid and fed, she had little to complain of. Slowly she eased her way into the bush, pushing low branches out of her way. She attempted to make quiet progress, not wanting to disturb her quarry nor nature’s sweet sanctum on which she relied so heavily for food and shelter. Songbirds sang their sweet calls, flitting high above her on hidden tree limbs. The sun fought its way through the crowded canopy casting long flickering shadows between soft golden beams. Her ears tracked a small creature, likely a burrower, nearby, and a faint grunt of a stag, but no human sounds came readily her way. She had some tracking to do if she was going to capture her prey before days end, and a hot meal was looking like just celebration to cap the day. Perhaps she could have the corpse to the next town over before last meal has stopped its service. |
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| Amethyssia | Sat Mar 25, 2017 9:46 pm Post #2 |
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"My, my. Don't you look positively dangerous and determined, my Dear?" Amethyssia had been sitting on the thick branch of a tree by herself for a little while, and was happy to have her wait finished. ----- As a proud mercenary, she made it a point to keep track of all the bounties in the area. Also, despite being a mercenary, there were times when Thyssie just felt like relaxing about. She didn't mind if others came and took bounties she already knew about - she got by through other means, as well, but these particular days wwere turning out to be quite interesting. To start, a most curious scuffle had come to pass in a nearby village. The perpetrator? A rather distant, yet strong looking woman. Thyssie was most impressed with how the woman fought, and even "awww"d when she took a blow to the head, and "aaah"d when sword was drawn to mark the end of the fight. Having caught interest in this woman after the fight, Thyssie had decided to keep tabs on her after she left. She did so love a good mystery. A most curious development came to pass when, at her safe distance, Thyssie saw the woman accost a man who looked like a supplier of some sort. It seemed this woman was interrogating the man, and the brandishing of sword served naught but to further cement this possibility. She did not kill the man, who ended up whimpering and cowering in fear - a most boring specimen to Thyssie. Taking to the trees, Amethyssia decided to continue following the woman for a bit. Deciding that this woman had to be a mercenary, an assassin, or a bounty hunter due to her gait, the way she walked, and the very careful movements she made, Thyssie assumed that some sort of bounty was in order. Thinking it to be a most interesting opportunity, Thyssie went quickly and quietly ahead of her unknowing companion, and found a lovely tree to wait on. Sure enough, her waiting proved to be worthwhile, as the individual she had been waiting for showed up after some time. ----- "Well, well. What is a lovely thing such as yourself doing out here, I wonder? You have quite an arsenal of intimidation and physical prowess don't you? I love that in a woman. But," she paused for dramatic effect. "I'm sure this is all suited to some purpose?" She played coy. "Perhaps I could be of assistance. I know of many of this area's hideouts, tricksights and ne'er-do-wells. You need but to ask, and my support is yours. I guarantee you would not want to pass me up." Thyssie smiled, sultry and mischievous. From what she had observed of this woman, this particular individual would be one of those "Hard to get" types. Amethyssia loved when they played Hard-to-Get. Despite her usual habits and self-serving whims, Thyssie was feeling quite "cooperative". Surely it would be fun to tag along and see what this woman had planned for her current target. |
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| Phedre | Sun Mar 26, 2017 3:16 pm Post #3 |
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There was naught else in her mind but her quarry, the moral-less man of whom her bounty called for. She proceeded forward with great caution, for a target with access to magic is a problematic target indeed. Phedre shied away from the mystic, the swirling unknown proved to be more than a mere inconvenience on many occasion. But a bounty was coin, and coin was comfort, and so she trudged onward, pushing past low branches and flat-faced leaves. It was in this moment that a female voice called out to her. Phedre’s head snapped around, facing the direction of the call, eyes scanning the pathway for the speaker. She saw nothing and pulled her gaze upward, towards the boughs of the trees. There she spotted a woman, watching her with the red eyes that Phedre assumed were attached to some evil or demon. Red eyes were rarely lawful eyes. Phedre idly reached up to touch the side of her head, fingertips dancing over the rough cracks of a fresh scab. Perhaps she had been hit harder than she had thought, for it was not commonplace for the woman to be snuck up on. Phedre bore blue eyes upon the visage of the new stranger and pondered inwardly about her shape. Purple hair was unique, she mused, thinking of her own very black, very colorless lengths. Purple was not a good shade for stealth. Ah, but it worked against you, she argued with herself, moving her hand to hover over her dagger hilt, but indeed a brain injury would help that matter somewhat. Shaking her head to free the internal dialogue and focus her distracted brain back on the newcomer, Phedre listened again to the words that the woman spoke. ...Was she... being flirtatious? She couldn’t help but grimace, perhaps the stranger thought herself a succubi. These were not the words that would enchant a warrioress. The stranger’s eyes flashed in amusement, her violet locks tossing haphazardly in the breeze. “"Perhaps I could be of assistance. I know of many of this area's hideouts, tricksights and ne'er-do-wells. You need but to ask, and my support is yours. I guarantee you would not want to pass me up." The grin the succeeded the offer brought forth a snarl on Phedre’s lips. Her eyes held no amusement, their azure depths cold and solid. The hand that hovered above her dagger hilt now gripped the weapon tightly, white knuckles bright against the darkness of the handle. “I am in no assistance from the likes of you,” she growled, her voice low and her gaze unyielding. “I can manage a simple bounty on my own accord. Tricksters are unwelcome here.” Phedre shot her chin to the bush behind the stranger, motioning for her to move onward. She would find no lover’s companionship here, and the company of another, for company’s sake, is not something that Phedre often endured, let alone sought after with the likes of a violet haired stranger. Again the red eyes of the woman caught her stare, bringing her hackles, should she have been a beast of any kind, up on her neck. A game was afoot here, and although the details of which were nondescript at the present, Phedre was sure that she did not want to play. “I have naught what you are looking for,” Phedre added, eyes darting around the forest canopy with the hopes of catching sight of any other company the woman may have been keeping. There were no others she could see, no violet hair, and more importantly, no red eyes. Phedre did her best to hold back a wince as a flash of sunlight broke through the tree’s canopy and shone brightly into her line of sight. Her hand went back up to her temple, the spot caked with dried blood, and blocked the light rapidly. It was a sincere inconvenience to have to deal with photo-sensitivity post head injury... perhaps she should have lounged around until dusk instead. Lounging was not her forte, and as such the decision was made to pursue her prey under the shadow of as many trees as possible. Her mind was wandering again... this was perhaps not the most opportune time for her to engage in a conflict. Why could she not hold attention to the violet haired female? Perhaps it was some kind of magic, Phedre thought hopefully, knowing full well that the wound to her head told the real explanation. Perhaps this meeting would not be dismissed as easily as she had planned... |
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| Amethyssia | Tue Apr 4, 2017 4:39 pm Post #4 |
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"Tricksters, my dear? I assure you, there is no tricking here. I admit, I am rather partial to the reactions people generally have of my presence - mostly positive - but, when I offer my services, I offer them genuinely." Thyssie smiled as she clapped her hands together - providing a sense of nonchalance towards the woman's pointedly harshish remarks. "Now, you may very well think yourself more than capable - and I shan't say that you would not be - however, one shouldn't shoot down an offer of assistance before one knows what the offer entails exactly, especially if one has an ouchie on their head that seems to be causing them no small sense of disorientation." Amethyssia noticed the woman's head injury, and could see the telltale signs of what might be a minor concussion, or at the very least a headjarring experience. "From your more-than-average sensitivity to the light, seen by your body posture and squinting, and apparent inability to stay completely focused on me, I would say you're not at your best. But, if you insist on continuing alone, likely to fail, or be very close to fail, due to your current condition, far be it from me to change your mind. I'm sure you could handle to unusual amount of security in this area alone. And the rather strange sense of magic I've been getting here - nasty stuff. Oh, and there's the signs of traps, as well. Whoever it is you're after is one paranoid piece of work, Darling. But, you don't need my information, I suppose. Or my skills. I could really balance out the scales here, you know." Thyssie snorted at her little inside joke. |
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7:28 PM Jul 11

