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Loric Syntel..A Bards Tale
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Loric
Journeyman
Journeyman


Joined: 20 Sep 2012
Posts: 101
Location: Southern usa

PostPosted: Mon Sep 24, 2012 9:36 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The man saw himself as very enlightened. In fact he deemed himself more clever than anyone he had ever met. The cocky man reveled in the notion that he once again proved his mental superiority by NOT taking action.

When he spotted the lovely dark haired woman outside her home preparing her new batch of spring wine, he approached her. He charismatically introduced himself and magically made a rose appear from somewhere near the woman's ear. This brought a bright smile to her face as she took the rose and smelled it happily. They flirted a bit before he sensed something oddly familiar about the female who called herself Grizelda. Her black eyes flashed with a trace of power. He discreetly removed his hand from the handle of the vicious blade hidden in his cloak.

It is said that like souls can sense one another. He sensed this one was not a good candidate. She had the gift and he knew he was out of her league. She was a risk not worth taking. So he bid her farewell with a promise to return for a drink sometime. It was a promise he didn't intend to keep.

In his own mind, he smugly celebrated his superiority again. He rejoiced in the fact that his higher wisdom allowed him to determine what was dangerous to him. As he walked away confident in his god-like judgment, his cockiness failed to alert him to the real danger she possessed.

If he had been less impressed with his own ‘enlightened cleverness’.... and more cautious than boastful...he might have noticed an item she held in her hands. He may have even concluded that, as innocent an object it was, it would soon spell his utter and total demise.


Last edited by Loric on Thu Sep 27, 2012 9:59 am; edited 2 times in total
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Loric
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Joined: 20 Sep 2012
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Location: Southern usa

PostPosted: Mon Sep 24, 2012 4:53 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Loric watched as Sunny slowly worked the bent wire into the small keyhole on the ornate wooden box. Her face took on a pained expression as her frustration grew. The box was made to test the ability of any good lock picker. It had a series of complex tumblers along with a clever pattern that had to be figured in sequence. The Bard had solved it only once as part of his training... and that was luck. He was curious as to how Snowy would handle the test, but it was evident she was quickly losing interest in the task. Finally, her patience ran out and she threw the small tool across the apartment and against the opposite wall.

“You promised me some sausages and I’m very hungry now you know!” spoke the girl irritably. “And I can’t open this stoopid box neither!” Sunny folded her arms pouting and glared at Loric.

“I promised you a sausage dinner AFTER you’ve had your locksmith lesson,” corrected the bard in an even tone. Smiling, he reached into his belt and calmly pulled out another metal tool and wiggled it in front of her.

Sunny's gaze went from the smiling Loric to the box on the table and back. “This is gonna cost you TWO sausage dinners!” threatened the diminutive one. She reluctantly swiped her hand past his, deftly securing the new wire.

The blond man watched with an amused expression as she blew a loose lock of hair out of her eye and reinserted the tool into the lock.

“Now close your eyes Sunny….try to extend yourself into the tumblers through the pick,” encouraged Loric in a very soft and soothing tone. “Feel your way through it…concentrate all of your focus. I know you can do it!"

*Click*

The bard's eyes widened. No one had ever solved the box that quickly. He blinked in astonishment.

Sunny looked up at Loric in surprised wonder. “You hear that!?” she spate excitedly, “ I did it!”

The grinning girl then opened the small box hurriedly, and as she did, a faint ‘pop’ could be heard. A white powder exploded from the container and covered her. She looked like someone had rolled her in flour. The two stared at each other for a brief second before breaking out in laughter.

“You did that on purpose dint ye!” she managed to say after the shock had passed. Sunny grinned and said in an enlightened voice, “So... that’s why you made me put these old clothes on! So I wouldn't ruin the dress ye got me!"

Loric nodded smiling down at her a bit sympathetically. “Alright, get yourself cleaned up and I'll get your sausage dinner….Then, we will HAVE to work on your skill in trap detection.”

“TWO sausage dinners!” corrected the wee female as she climbed off the chair grinning
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Loric
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Joined: 20 Sep 2012
Posts: 101
Location: Southern usa

PostPosted: Mon Sep 24, 2012 8:11 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The Britain stable was busy tonight. The local tradesmen were arguing and shouting from bales of hay used as makeshift chairs. Fists were shaken and voices rose as threats and counter threats were issued back and forth heatedly. The twenty or so locals formed a semi-circle around the blond headed man who sat stoically listening and sorting out the many complaints. A high ranking merchant had pleaded with Boston Grey to ‘unofficially’ look into the smuggling crises as much revenue was being lost by the guilds and crown.

"Somethin's got te be done Boston!" barked one man with a leather apron, "The smugglers be killin’ me business!! Duncan's buyin' his kegs half price from these thieves! I can't compete with thet!!"

The crowd would then yell their agreement in a loud choir of 'Ayes' causing the bard to wince from the headache developing over the course of the night. He rubbed his temples before pointing to another man clambering for attention.

"It more than just ale," yelled a miner covered in ore dust, "Its ingots and gems too that these scalawags secure from the pirates... at less than market prices! I doon blame the vendors from buyin im...the price is less then we can produce the blasted stuff!"

The voices again choired angry curses. They filled the barn with obscenities Boston hadn't heard since his tavern playing days. As he looked around at the reddening faces of open mouthed men and women, he rubbed his temples again and closed his eyes a moment. When he reopened them a few seconds later he was a bit disappointed his wish to make them disappear hadn't been granted.

He then focused his mind to drown out the noise. He thought of how he missed 'Raven' and 'Purity'. They were always close to him. And one day, they felt they had put in their time, and wanted something better. So Roberge asked the lovely Maura to marry him. She said yes and they were last seen sailing west for a life of mutual love and happiness. Boston was glad for them....They both risked much for the city. He gave them his blessing, but he was now two more agents short.

He needed more manpower as the smuggling activity increased. The pirates plunder the merchant ships, keep the valuables and sell off the goods at lower than market rate to anyone with gold for ‘cash and carry. Now these goods were reaching the cities and ruining the economy as the untaxed merchandise was resold at cut rate prices. The resident smugglers were making a fortune in profits while the local merchants suffered.

And thus, the Reeves leader was now hearing their complaints and wishing he still imbibed. As the yelling increased to an earsplitting decibel, Boston raised his hand palm up and lowered his head in a motion to STOP! The voices slowly decreased in volume until all eyes were on him waiting for his words.

"You are aware...that some of these men, whose heads you call for, may be your own neighbors," began the Reever, "Are you prepared to bear the punishment that will be inflicted on possibly your own friends or family when we expose these perpetrators?" Boston looked out at the gathering, pausing at each face he made contact with.

The crowd began to murmur among themselves until one yelled out "Hang the Buggers!" This again manufactured whoops and howls for blood and flesh.

Boston called for silence again. "Very well...I shall send men to catch a few of these smugglers" announced the Bard, "and we shall make an example of them to discourage further promotion of this activity." Boston again looked them over hard. "We shall convene this meeting when we have some in hand...and I expect you to not to complain as justice is administered...no matter how squeamish it may make you."

The bard then excused himself and left the stable to the sounds of quiet and nervous murmuring.
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Loric
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 25, 2012 6:53 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The ranger Rye Lockman studied the area in detail. Loric was right. The spot in the Yew woods that the bard and the woman named Cat had stumbled across a few days ago was more than suspicious. Remains of a monk’s blood-stained robe as well as signs of a struggle were apparent. He also found some older evidence that the site was used for some other questionable activity. A few old bones that looked uncannily human stuck up from the moss. There was an old and moldy woman’s dress half buried under a brush.

Rye took the time to comb the area for tracks of some sort. The recent rain did a good job of washing away any decent signs of prints but he did find a very faint trail leading north. A few intermittent boots prints were still visible and led along the coast. Rye followed them slowly by studying the almost invisible ground indentations with any other plant disturbances he discovered.

The ranger felt renewed since he shed the weight of guilt he had been yoked to for the last 10 years. Rye had finally forgiven himself for his wife Aluvia's death. He felt excited for the world again. Everything looked new and untouched. The view was light and in full color instead of black and heavy. He imagined it was how a sailor might feel returning from an eternity of endless sea. Rye decided he wanted to live now, instead of merely going through the motions.

The red headed elven woman passed through his mind, causing a slight warm tingle in his loins. A rare smile appeared on the rugged tanned face. It was an event that he hoped would visit him more often now. Rye wondered if he could even remember how to engage woman in conversation involving matters of the heart. Finally, he decided if worse came to worse, he could always ask Loric. The man was never lost for words.

Rye continued on the trail west while considering the message Sunny had brought from Boston. The Boss needed to catch a smuggler. Some city problem was out of hand because of the black market activity. Loric and he were already engaged with this Yew incident but would do their best to juggle in this other task. They would quietly patrol the many hidden coves up the shoreline and hope for the best.

Finally the trail disappeared completely. It just vanished in front of a very large structure. Questions began to form in his mind. He was puzzled and curious. If he was following the trail of alleged kidnappers and possible murderers, why would they walk directly to an active symbol of justice?

He studied the ground again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He then looked up again confident in his assessment…The tracks disappeared directly in front of the Yew Prison….


Last edited by Loric on Wed Sep 26, 2012 12:34 am; edited 1 time in total
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Loric
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 26, 2012 12:17 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Sunny Snowdowns scurried along quickly as she approached the Ashencrosse apartment she shared with her guardian Loric Syntel. She excitedly opened the door and skidded to a halt in front of Loric holding out a sealed letter.

“It’s frum Boston,” she conveyed. “Must be important he said to run it right up to ye!”

The halfling girl stood there staring and grinning as Loric opened and tried to read the letter. Distracted, he folded the paper down peering over it at Sunny.

“What?!” he inquired curiously.

“Ye got the dress?” she questioned squinting and wriggling her nose hopeful like.

“Dress? What dress?” teased the bard.

“The dress ye said ye was gonna get me so ah kin be a real lady!” she blurted.

“Ohh…THAT dress!” answered Loric. “Well…maybe… if you peek in the box over there.” His head motioned to a small box in the corner. You might find something.

Her face filled with a huge smile as she ran over to the box and opened it. Inside was a pretty pink dress with purple ribbon.

“Pink!!..How did she know I loved pink!!” she giggled.

“Just a wild guess.” Loric mused dryly. “ Try it on. Cat said that if it doesn’t fit she will fix it for you.”

“Oh boy!” she squealed and ran behind the divider to change.

Loric took this time to read the message. It was an appeal to come to Britain and help resolve a sticky problem involving local smugglers. He quickly wrote a short response of affirmation and sealed it just as Sunny revealed herself from behind the separator.

She looked really sweet. Sunny grinned and tried to pose ladylike with a hand on her hip. Loric smiled at her effort.

Her dagger then rattled onto the floor from somewhere in her clothing.

“Buggers!!” she cursed as she quickly picked it up and re-posed grinning.

Loric stifled a laugh. “You look very pretty Sunny…like a real lady!”

Sunny grinned wider hearing this.

“Alright, when you return from Britain, I want you to go thank Cat for that dress. She worked very hard on it for you,” explained the bard.

“I just got back frum Britain!..I gotta go agin?!” whined the girl.

“Afraid so,” answered Loric. “You have to take this letter to Boston. I will join you both there in two days. We will finish some business then return together. “

“Alright,” she responded, while looking down at her dress and playing with the ribbon happily.

“How’s Lenore doing?” inquired Loric.

“Really good.” smiled Sunny. “And Boston’s good too. His birthdays next week ye know!

“You didn't tell him anything did you?” asked Loric. “About the present we got him?”

Sunny looked down at the floor guiltily tracing a small circle with her toe.

“Well...at first I was tight lipped...Yup!...Wasn't getting nothin' out of me!... Nope!...No way!"

“And then?” asked Loric staring down with his arms folded and a slight twinkle.

“Then he reverted to torture!!...I had to talk!...Nothing I could do!..I was helpless!” blurted the diminutive female.

“Oh, he tortured you did he?” Loric feinted suspicion. “Funny, I don't see any bruises.”

“Boss...it was worse than physical punishment...It was psychological!'” attested Sunny. “And brutal too!...He tortured me with sausages and syrup...abused me with them...threatened to withhold them from me! It was so painful I sung like a canary!...He broke me Boss!” Sunny lowered her head in a defeated gesture.

Loric thought if there was ever an award for best actress…she would get it. Hands down!

“That fiend!” blurted the Bard feinting horror. “I suppose you couldn't do anything else...must have been horrible!”

“Was!” supported Sunny. “No one could 'ave kept silent after that!”

“No doubt!” agreed Loric. “Well, you’d better get changed and head to Britain. But first, I am going to treat you to a sausage and syrup lunch since you had such a rough go of it.”

Sunny licked her lips and grinned large as the two of them slipped into the late morning sunshine toward the local tavern....


Last edited by Loric on Thu Sep 27, 2012 5:20 am; edited 1 time in total
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Loric
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 26, 2012 3:54 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The blond bard sat on the couch with his legs stretched out and his feet propped up on the table in front of him. The Britain Inn was practically empty in the wee hours of the morning. He stared at a few logs crackling in a fireplace kept active by some unseen attendant. Loric tapped his upper lip thoughtfully as he processed the circumstances surrounding the woman murdered so viciously in Yew. She seemed to walk to her assailant willingly. Did she know him? Did she just meet him? Why did she accompany him? Questions and more questions... But no answers.

Concern was written plainly on his face. This latest victim was not a prostitute. She was a bright free woman according to her acquaintances. This fact reinforced Loric’s belief that the killer was dangerously persuasive. In Nujel’m, he only preyed on submissive women. He easily lured them to their deaths by exploiting their willingness to please. The monster has now graduated to higher ground.

Loric alleged he may be either testing himself or just bored with the ease of taking the life of slaves. And if this fresh approach pleased him, by what trickery will he lure future victims? The Reever tried to put himself in the murderer's head. How would he lure a sensible person someplace quiet to perform this gruesome calling? Fake an injury and appeal to their mercy? Study them ahead of time and use that knowledge against them?.... Seduction?...Drugs?

The ploy of faking injury to gain closeness alarmed him. He thought of a few names of friends who would fall for that game without a second thought. Loric found himself concerned in spite of the Reeves policy to remain detached. Although he understood the logic of this protocol, he never could completely disassociate himself from caring. He just wasn’t made that way.

Uncharacteristically, the bard angrily heaved his brandy glass into the fireplace shattering it. His feet went to the floor and, with elbows on knees, rubbed his face with both palms. He was tired of thinking....Tired of this chase. He was just tired period. As his bloodshot eyes peeked above his fingers toward the fire, he considered the possibility of this being his last assignment.

Loric closed his eyes. A picture of himself under the shade of a large, Nujel’m palm tree popped into his head. It included him sipping a cold, rosy colored drink while wrapped around someone resembling a certain countess he knew.

The vision unfortunately flittered away when the words of his wise mentor flashed in his head.

‘Fatigue makes cowards of even the bravest.’

Boston's words echoed in his mind, convincing him to put away such thoughts of retirement till he was more refreshed.

Loric was about to head to his room for a few hours’ sleep when he saw his contact finally arrive. At the murder scene, Loric had found a strange, red colored patch of cloth that looked very much like a rose petal. He sent the evidence to Boston to have it examined. It was turned over to Cedric, a very worldly merchant, who’s services they contracted from time to time.

The merchant beckoned him over and spoke in his usual hushed, businesslike tone. "Your rose petal...Tis made by an artisan. It is of course part of a full rose that he reproduces with amazing accuracy."

"Who purchases these and for what purpose?" queried the bard curiously.

"Well...tis quite an expense to have one produced. They are handmade from the finest silk material. They are also imbibed with the scent of the rose, further increasing the cost. They are sold to wealthy nobles who wish to decorate their homes with an undying bouquet." Cedric seemed impressed with the marketing possibility of the product.

The bard absorbed the information with interest but wondered the practicality of tracking down every noble who ever purchased these imitations. He thanked Cedric and threw him a pouch that jingled of coin.

"For your efforts my friend." Loric watched as Cedric bowed and tucked the pouch away.

"There apparently is one more use for the rose..." added Cedric.

"And that is?" asked Loric.

"Since it has no thorns and is quite durable...some have been purchased by magicians...for use with parlor tricks and illusions. They are quite easy to hide in sleeves without snagging the material." Cedric spoke these last words before bowing and exiting the Inn.

Loric considered what he had heard as he climbed the stairs to his room..... In his mind, he narrowed the facts down to one improbable theory.... He was looking for an unstable mage.... with a rose....
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Loric
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 27, 2012 6:03 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The assembly was grim indeed. A jury of disguised farmers and artisans sat murmuring on bales of sweet smelling hay while staring at a frightened man tied to a stout wooden chair in front of them. The barn was lit by a few lanterns hung from square hewn posts displaying other common stable items tacked haphazardly to them.

The man was a bit on the heavy side with a three or four day facial growth. His brown, greasy hair was tied back from his face by a rawhide string. A sturdy rope was tightly curled around his body holding him firmly to the chair. A cloth gag bit into his lips as his eyes bulged from fearful exchanges with the solemn crowd of masked spectators.

To the right of the tied prisoner, in a stall with a closed gate, huddled a woman with three frightened teenage children. Dirt streaked their faces, and it was apparent by their clothing, they were not of a noble class. A very tiny person, in a terrifying demon-like cloth mask, stood guard at the stall.

Another man was bound to a bench among the crowd of citizens. He had a hood covering his face tied off at the neck. His clothes had a nautical flair to them indicating he was a sailing man of some sort. Another person in a scary birdlike mask and hat watched over this one.

The crowd became quiet at hearing a door creak open and the thumping sound of approaching boot steps. There was a slight gasp as a tall, foreboding figure carrying a leather pouch marched to a small table in front of the prisoners. The nervous reaction was due to the shock of the man's appearance.

He looked to have walked out of hell itself. The mask he wore was made of both white and black burlap, stitched with black jute twine that formed a grotesque crooked smile. Red triangles were painted around the eye holes as well as a large, misshapen one for the nose. A black felt, untacked hat covered a head that showed hay sticking out of it for hair. The figure wore an aged and tattered black coachman’s coat with a shoulder support stick running across like some unattached scarecrow. Bird’s poo clung to some areas on his hat brim.

His voice sounded like nails being dragged across metal....all scratchy and sinister. He pounded on the table with the hilt of a dagger.

"This court is now in session!" he demanded. "Uncover the accused sailor's face so that he can see the Scarecrow's justice!"

The bird-faced masked person walked over and roughly pulled the hood off the man seated on the bench.

The seaman was dark skinned and apparently a bit annoyed. He began speaking arrogantly as soon as the hood was removed.

"You pack of scoundrels!" he began, "In the name of the pirate lords I demand you release me!"

"GAG HIM" was the scratchy response from the sinister looking judge, ignoring his complaint.

The bird face person tied a cloth around the prisoner's mouth as ordered...effectively silencing him.

"Now the indictment against the first prisoner Berron Smith!...Ungag him Hellspawn," directed the overseer to the demon faced person. "Berron Smith!...You have been accused of smuggling and treachery against the city of Britain...How do you plead!!?"

"I aint 'urt you none scarecrow!" he blurted.

"GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY!" interrupted the man at the table while pounding his dagger hilt once loudly.

"NOT GUILTY! CURSE YOU!" answered the seated man arrogantly. This provoked the witnesses to grumble and the scarecrow to bang his dagger hilt again.

"First witness!" cackled the masked man. "Hellspawn! Bring your statement!'

The masked small person presented a scroll to the table which the scarecrow unrolled and began to read.

"Three days ago I witnessed the man Berren Smith engage in a purchase of several kegs of rum from a seaman named Spider Bunk in a cove north of Britain."

"Is this Bunk person in the courtroom?" barked the scarecrow.

Hellspawn pointed to the gagged man who rolled his eyes.

"And are these the casks?" he pointed to three untapped casks sitting near the desk.

Hellspawn nodded affirmatively.

"Second witness! The widow Carla from Britain and her three boys, Willy, Billy and Dilly." announced the Scarecrow, "Vulture...fetch the witnesses!"

The bird faced person opened the gate to the stall and pointed toward the judge while looking at the terrified family.

They walked shaking and trembling until they stood in front of the scarecrow. He spoke harshly.

"You have been accused of aiding and abetting a smuggler...the penalty is death...but can be avoided if you testify truthfully in this matter...Did the accused approach you and offer to pay you if your sons helped him sell and distribute this rum to Duncan McShane?"

"H-H-He did...I-I asked him if it was illegal...he said no!" She began to cry while huddling with her sons. "Please! I'm a poor widow!..We don't have anyth.." She was cut off mid sentence by the merciless judge.

"THAT WILL BE ALL!...VULTURE!...RETURN THE WITNESSES TILL SENTENCING!" barked the judge. The guard prodded them back to the stall.

"Last witness!” Duncan McShane, owner of the Waltzing Warhorse Inn, has given this sworn testimony!"

He opened a letter and read an account of how the boy Dilly delivered a note to Duncan outlining the price and expected time of delivery... signed by Berren Smith.

"Here is the very note signed by YOU Berren!....and the very pouch of gold Duncan promised you...found on YOUR person when you were apprehended by the Reeves!" The scarecrow dumped the gold pieces on the table for dramatic purposes and looked at the accused laughing fiendishly.

"It's time for a verdict!" The Scarecrow stood and walked toward the citizens. "The evidence is overwhelming against the accused....What say you all!"

"GUILTY!" roared the crowd!

"Berren Smith...You have been found guilty of smuggling by your own peers!' chided the scarecrow, "And now justice will be done!"

"What are you going to do to me?!" cried Berren while trying to wriggle out of his bonds.

The scarecrow produced a rope with a hangman’s noose and slowly walked toward him. He held it out eye level so all could see it sway ominously.

"NOOOO...I have children...Please! I just needed food for them...The rebellion! It devastated the wife and me! Raiders burned our home! It was a little rum for God's sake!" Berren pleaded as a leather hood was pulled over his head uncaringly....Then the noose went around his neck and was pulled tightly.

"May the gods take your soul Berren!' The rope was thrown over the beam and the three costumed figures pulled. The man and the chair went up into the air. Berren shook and trembled for a bit before becoming still. The barn became quiet as heads bowed in fear and shock at the sight of the pathetic man swaying slightly from the rafter.

The scarecrow turned to the family in the stall. "Is this what you want boys...to be swinging in the wind at a tender age!!" he yelled.

The boys in the stall trembled and peed themselves. They shook their heads fearfully.

"Go then! But if we ever catch you near another smuggler I'll hang you on the spot!” He laughed fiendishly as the three ran from the barn as fast as they could. Their relieved mother followed.

He then turned to the gagged sailor. "This will be the justice we serve to pirate captains who allow untaxed goods to reach our shore!" The masked man grabbed the now frightened sailor by the shirt and pulled him close to his grotesque, yarn-sutured mouth. "Go tell them what to expect before I change my mind and string you up now!" He too ran feverishly from the barn after Hellspawn cut his ropes.

"Go home now...all of you...and remember...a bit of illicit gold is not worth losing your life for! Now disperse!...And tell your neighbors the danger of being greedy in the city of Britain!" He then laughed... in a most fiendish way... as the locals hurried out into the night and toward the safety of their homes.


When the barn was empty, the macabre judge motioned to the two masked guards to watch the doors while he lowered the hanging man slowly back down. He took off the hood and inspected the rope. It cleverly ran under the victim's cloak and around a slat in the back of the chair to take the brunt of the weight.

"You were smart to play your part Berren...It saved your miserable life!" cackled the scarecrow. "Now go back to your family in Yew and tell them what happens to citizens who wish to become smugglers on our shore!...Believe me...next time... necks WILL stretch! Good family men shouldn’t get involved with pirates and cutthroats...Tell them that!'"

Berren could only nod his sweaty head as the ropes were cut.

Hellspawn! Vulture! Escort him by secret ways to the docks. Put him on the Sea Witch and remind him never show his face in this city again!" instructed the judge before breaking into another laugh that sent shivers up the spine of Berren Smith.



Still later that night, in the wardrobe room of the old theater, Boston, Loric and Sunny quietly removed greasepaint and costume. Boston thought tonight’s little drama might dissuade a few locals from getting in bed with the pirates. But he knew right well that it was a single drop in the proverbial bucket. The pirate solution was an entirely different matter. The unrest in the cities grows daily. Well-armed raiders appear with more and more frequency. These are not local yokels but trained mercenaries.

There was a bigger picture to all of this... and it has the smell of conspiracy...and the reever knew only one thing for certain.... the fish…always stunk most at the head.
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Loric
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 28, 2012 2:22 am Post subject: Reply with quote

In the past few weeks, an evening without stress or drama was a rare occurrence indeed for Loric the bard. With the cities turning upside down with rebellion, a murderer loose in Yew, raiders and pirates everywhere, it was difficult for anyone to enjoy the sweeter side of life. But tonight he got a healing dose of just plain fun.

He and Sunny, his young ward, had just returned from Britain to their little apartment in the village of Ashencrosse. The girl was exhausted from the intense smuggling solution she helped play out in the city barn. She was asleep before Loric even finished tucking her in.

As for the bard himself, he decided to walk over the empty playhouse next door and work on a song that had been running through his head. He slipped in behind the shiny piano and let his fingers warm up to the keys. The song he played and sang was a very romantic lullaby about a man beckoning his love to follow him along the shore. As he was finishing the last few bars, he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw the countess gracefully descending the stairs.

‘Gods she had good posture’ he thought as he watched her stop and consider him.

Loric awarded her a large, bright smile that was neither manufactured nor obligatory. It was induced simply by her presence, a fact that delighted him to no end. He had so little to really smile about lately.

“Should I applaud or just stand in silent awe?” she said with a half-smile.

“Tis your choice milady,” the bard’s voice playfully responded. “But this is where my audiences usually start hurling fruity projectiles.”

She laughed and mentioned how she couldn’t believe the bard could induce a crowd to such hostility.

‘Another good sign, she had a sense of humor’

Loric took her hand and escorted her to the piano.

“The last time Milady stopped by,” grinned Loric, “I believe she indicated to this bard that she was a singer. This pitiful man will now proceed to shamelessly beg milady to award him with one of her songs.”

“Very well,” she said and smiled again. Her fingers just started to press the keys when the door opened.

It was a friend of hers, a very cordial elf. The three of them spent the evening exchanging song and story. It was wonderfully refreshing for Loric. He had almost forgotten the pressures he would remember on the morrow.

They laughed. This was the best thing. To truly laugh because one was happy, in itself was a gift.

As the night went on, the bard found himself studying Aurelia. Although he didn’t want to sound presumptuous, he sensed she bore some of the same pressure that he felt. There was a kindred spirit there. She too wanted to laugh more but circumstances pressed her. He was sure of it. She was in the habit of guarding her feelings. There must be times when she, like him, wished to be weightless… and empty of thought.
She sang a song that displayed a certain romantic intuition. No shallow mind could have composed such lovely words. It showed a sensitive side... a side that may be struggling to flourish.

In any event, the night ended with Loric and Countess Aurelia agreeing they should explore each other’s musical side in the near future. It was an agreement Loric would look forward too.

Tomorrow, the bard had no such pleasantry to anticipate. Loric and his ward would head to Yew to thank Cat for her dress. Somewhere along the way, there was a very painful issue that had to be resolved regarding Sunny. It was long overdue. He dreaded his part in it, but knew if he didn’t act soon, she could be lost. It was time for her to know why she hated chickens…
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 28, 2012 4:32 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

"Let’s talk about why you hate chicken so much." Loric's soothing tone resonated in harmony with the gurgling stream and a choir of crickets that chose to sing unseen tonight at the small Yew forest campsite.

"Aw Boss.....Why do you always want to hear that! You know I hate talking about them awful things!" Sunny spoke with a voice that seemed a bit irritated at the mere mention of chicken. "Besides I toll ye everythin’ I kin recall....twenty times!!. Don't ye remember?"

"I remember finding you captive in a goblin cave. It's the chickens that puzzle me." said the bard in a cautious voice. "Can you help me remember that part?"

"Allright," sighed Sunny. "One more time... an’ I mean it! I'm sick of relivin’ those mean goblins treatin’ me so bad! Why can't we talk about other things?...Like why all my halflin friends din't like me and they alls runs off and ditched me!" complained the girl.. "Woon be long before my new friends woon like me anymore neither!"

"Umm, we were talking about chickens Sunny," redirected the bard in a level tone. "Let me start with....'I discovered this cave full of goblins holding you in a cage’..."

Loric twirled his finger prompting her to continue the story.

"Oh alright! Those filthy things kept me locked in their stoopid ole' cage full of chickens. And every day they would pull one of them poor critters out and just cut it's throat right in front of me!" Sunny remembered, "And the poor thing would shake and quiver till they put it on the spit an cooked it a bit. Then, they would pull some half cooked flesh off and make me eat it! It was horrible and I toll ye this a hundred times!... So what doon ye get!?"

Loric moved closer to her and listened sympathically. "It’s just that when I dispatched the goblins and freed you from that cage...I can't remember seeing any chickens...no feathers even.... Can you help me explain this?"

Snow stared into the fire silently. Her expression showed a mind working overtime trying to explain away the evident disparity.

"You must o' seen 'im Boss...They was everywhere....feathers...blood...bones...a real mess!" she explained.

"No dear...I never saw a one..." he said softly.

"Well what DID ye see then! They was all over the place!" Sunny wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked nervously in front of the fire. Ye musta been blind ta miss them!"

"Sunny..." asked Loric in an even softer voice, "What DID I see?...

"Loric!...Silly!... Doon you remember! They was h...." Sunny stopped in midsentence.

Her eyes suddenly widened...A look of shock replaced the former irritated scowl. Her palms covered her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. Loric then heard the most mournful, horrible, woeful cry originate from somewhere deep within her. It filled the camp with a sound that he hoped he would never hear again. Its shrill notes conveyed indescribable misery and despair. She sobbed and shook uncontrollably for a few minutes before springing up upon Loric... pounding his chest with her two fists.... as hard as she could.

"WHY DID YOU MAKE ME REMEMBER THAT!!" she sobbed and flailed away. "THEY WASN'T EVER CHICKENS WUZ THEY?!..... THEY WUZ HALFLINS!!"

She let out another pitiful wail prompting the bard to wrap his arms around her and hug her shaking form.
There they stayed for a long time. He knew things would improve from here... but not for a while. All there was to do for now... was hold her...and make her know that no halfling would ever abandon her....... unless it was against its will....


Last edited by Loric on Tue Aug 13, 2013 3:38 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 29, 2012 1:51 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Sunny made for a pitiful sight as she awoke in the wilds of Yew. The morning light revealed the bloodshot eyed female halfling lying on her side staring at the dying embers of her tiny campfire. Her hair was matted and uncombed. Straw and twigs clung to her in random locations. Her face was streaked with blood and dirt. The once colorful dress she wore was tattered and wrinkled. The girl’s normal happy grin was lost somewhere in a mind that churned with chaos and confusion. She felt sick with an internal pain that throbbed… endless and uncaring. Her eyes seemed void of any expression save shock. Sleep had been the only freedom that she knew. Now she was sorry to be awake again, as the discomfort returned.

“Dammit! Damn that Loric Syntel!!!”, she spewed numbly to herself. Her face took on a painful expression. “I hurt so badly now!”

Her demeanor suddenly changed and her face wore a resolved look. “I don't need that Bard!!....Never did neither!!...So what if he saved me....I'm glad I run off!!...Yup!..Doon need him no more!”


Sunny's small voice tried to convince her confused mind of these facts as she slowly sat up and blinked at the dead orc lying on its back next to her. Its eyes were open....staring at a sky it could no longer see. The hilt of Sunny's dagger stuck up from its lifeless chest. She unemotionally pulled the blade from its nesting place and rubbed it clean on her once immaculate, purple sundress.


The words 'This ain't ladylike' resounded somewhere in her cluttered head.

“WHY DID THIS HAPPEN!” she suddenly screamed, spooking some birds to flutter into the sky from a nearby bush. Her dagger found its way once more into the dead orc.

“It's all your fault!...All your fault....ALL YOUR FAULT!!!” She repeated this mantra over and over to no one in particular stabbing the still body with each refrain. Eventually...she just stabbed mindlessly without uttering a sound.


A cracking branch made her look up, wide eyed and alert. A wild expression appeared as she whispered, “orcs!” Sunny seemed to welcome the sudden intrusion. She quickly moved into a shadowy place away from prying eyes and waited with delicious anticipation.

As she spotted the unsuspecting figures approach, a small grin appeared on her face. It was not her usual grin. It contained no warmth....no happiness....and no mercy.


Last edited by Loric on Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:51 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:45 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The shadowy archive section of the old reference library in the Lycaeum was an inferno waiting to happen. Dry and dusty, it's contents of old brittle notices, aged tomes, area histories and other historical data would burn like the seven hells if touched by anything resembling fire. The blond bard Loric Syntel sat quietly at the lone table in a room that, according to the inch of dust, had been undisturbed for many years. He was surrounded by heavy wooden shelves that reached for the high ceiling...each laden with delicate, yellowed and irregularly placed books and scrolls.

He read by the light of a small crystal that gave enough white light to read without rendering heat to the kindling that was evident everywhere. The bard had little use for mages as they always seemed too self-absorbed and arrogant to suit his tastes, but looking at this little lighting device gave him cause to think they may have some small benefit to mankind. He chuckled amused by his own arrogance ….especially given the irony of the fact he recently decided take up magic!

As Loric carefully browsed through the many literary contributions, the fingers of his left hand idly ran though his hair. He had almost lost a small clump of his golden locks yesterday while searching a cave in Yew for Sunny. A powerful elemental of sorts conjured fire on him. The bard managed to dispatch it with a calming song just in time. Unfortunately, the girl wasn’t in there.

Sunny, his young ward still wasn’t home. He knew another worry line would crease his youthful face before this was over. He hoped todays search would prove more fruitful.

The Bard turned back the page of the dusty tome that sat in front of him. He had reread the sentences thrice but got little out of them. His eyes saw the words, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts strayed far from the archive room and settled about the image of the lovely Countess of Ashencrosse. He had spent last evening in the comfort of her company. She was a healthy distraction to the sick feeling he had due to Sunny’s disappearance. They talked and flirted a bit in the presence of her cozy hearth. She looked like an angel to him in the firelight. Luckily, the connection was mutual. He could sense the attraction in her smile…and was grateful for it.

Gennevieve and Arahim visited, as well as Joseph, the intuitive elf. It was another evening of quick witted banter and thought provoking discussion. Loric found Gennevieve not only lovely but realized she had a wit about her that was charming. The bard suggested she hook up with his associate Rye Lockman after she volunteered to help search for Sunny. Rye was already in the Yew vicinity and might be assistance. He also thought she would be as easy for him to talk to as she would be on his eyes.

His visit ended with him bidding the Countess goodnight by the fire. They stood dangerously close in front of the warm hearth. And then, because he couldn’t bear not to, he kissed her. It was long and full…and meant to last a week. When he broke the kiss, he prayed he hadn’t made a mistake. She was a bit guarded. He was not sorry for kissing her, for he had longed for that taste ever since he first laid eyes on her. If he made her feel uncomfortable, then he would apologize for that. But he had no remorse for feeling the life that lived inside her mouth.

Loric blinked and realized he had read the same sentence four times and still received no benefit. He focused his mind once again on the task at hand. The Reever would like nothing else but to let the Countess occupy his thoughts, but it was time for him to start willfully concentrating on the reason he came here. The blond man rubbed his strained eyes and refocused them on the ancient chronicle he had extracted from among the many old records that sat on the aged shelves. He skimmed by much of the narrative and maps that the wrinkled pages contained before something caught his eye on one of the illustrated sections.

With a bit of excitement, he pulled out a parchment from his cloak and laid it next to the symbols in the book. His scroll contained samples of the strange runic letters he copied from the writ he had "borrowed" from the shadowy tomb in Nuje’m. As he compared the symbols to the word and illustrations from another time, Loric sensed now how similar they were. A chill ran up the back of his neck as he studied the renderings and noticed one of the drawings was a hideous image of a dreaded werewolf from some past age.

Finally he saw it...a perfect match...Two symbols he had transcribed to the parchment were identical matches to those in the tome. The Reever sat and mused over this discovery before carefully packing up the book and walking toward the exit. As his footsteps echoed through the hollow emptiness of the large hall, his thoughts were focused on a single objective. He needed to find a person that could take all the information and perform a very dangerous ceremony.
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 9:48 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The campfire crackled and sparked, offering bright orange embers to the starlit sky while bathing the small area in its toasty glow. A slow, pleasing lullaby weaved its soothing sound through the cozy Yew campsite as the blond man performed a bit of magic on the strings of a worn lute. Loric played from memory an old tune he remembered from his youthful days in the Den. He recalled how the melody would reach his ears as he tried to sleep at night. Where is came from, he knew not. He only knew it worked to induce him into a deep restful sleep.

The years seemed to not have dimmed its effectiveness as he warmly gazed over at the sleeping form of the Countess of Ashencrosse. She had a peaceful smile as she slept quietly by the fire. They were both a bit tired from searching for the young Sunny Snowdowns who was still missing from home.

As he played the tune he watched her with a sense of contentment. The kind a man feels when in the company of someone he has connected with. She looked regal earlier this evening when they attended the ball in Britain. It was a grand affair. Lots of lovely women dressed in their best gowns and gold pranced about in the spender of the event. Aurelia was kind enough to agree be escorted to the festivities by the bard. In the process, she also took his breath away.

They sat at a table for two until Genevieve the young Noblewoman appeared, prompting them to move to a table for four. Loric had never seen Genevieve in anything other than her gold colored armor. She filled her blue ruffled gown out splendidly.

As the three of them sat taking in the spectacle, the subject of Sunny arose, rekindling the worry in the bard. Loric got word from the ranger, Rye Lockman, that her trail was rediscovered in a small Yew ruin. This fact was enough to spur the girls into resuming the search while the trail was still warm.

When reaching the area, it was noted by the range, Rye Lockman, that the halfling's prints had gone in two directions. It was decided that Aurelia and Loric would follow the eastward trail while Rye and Genevieve would follow south.

Loric and the Countess looked until the wee hours before deciding to set a camp for some well needed rest. Before she drifted off, she sat next to him with her arm wrapped through his resting her head on his shoulder. They shared a blanket to keep off the chill and spoke a bit of the previous night. Aurelia admitted being divided in her feeling about what was progressing. She felt a bit guarded and at the same time wonderfully released.

The bard listened quietly. He realized suddenly that she may have felt ambushed in some way. There was mistrust and yearning, both trying to share the same plate. Loric’s mindset was clear about how she made him feel. She possessed that intangible that triggered something special inside of him. He was familiar with the definition, for he had felt this before….once.

Loric studied her face as her lids began to close. He promised himself to let her take the reins. He was in no hurry to drive a wagon that was half empty. He would wait until it had the full load….then he could fully appreciate the magnitude of its precious cargo…


Last edited by Loric on Tue Oct 02, 2012 8:58 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 11:25 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The tall swordswoman was a bit startled as the tall, brown robed monk appeared from behind the stone pillar in the Yew Abby.

“Are you Genevieve?” the hooded man whispered.

She nodded, still not sure of who was asking. Her fingers instinctively wrapped around the engraved hilt of her sword.

“Loric described you to me.” the voice whispered again, “but he did not do you the justice you deserve!”

This time, the voice had a playful resonance, causing her to drop her guard a bit and manufacture a slight smirk.

“I am Rye Lockman, a ranger. Let us speak outside the abbey eh?”

Genevieve nodded and followed his lead. He moved with quiet grace. His long legs covering ground quickly. The woman had to almost trot to keep up as he led her inside a copse of trees just south of the Abbey.
He produced a folded monk's robe from inside his own and handed it to her.

“You are here to help find the girl I presume.” He spoke in a soft voice. “ Wear this habit…I’ll explain later.”

Genevieve obediently slipped into the robe, pulling the hood over her head to match his look. Her expression remained curious but a bit excited in the clandestine approach. She loved adventure….and this was starting out to be quite interesting.

Rye began moving west, covering ground fairly quickly. He would stop and listen occasionally, and when he seemed satisfied, his legs would quietly cover more ground. One time, he stopped and sniffed the air for a moment before turning to face her.

“You smell good lass.” He announced softly.

‘Is he hitting on me?’ warned the voice in her head. She looked at him a bit suspiciously.

“The orcs will smell you a long time before they see you.” He added sensing her mistrust.

“Oh!” she blurted suddenly understanding. Genevieve quickly picked some ferns and crushed them in her hands, covering her face with their woodsy scent.

The ranger looked on a bit surprised and impressed with her solution.

“That’s better” he said after he sniffed again. They continued to travel west.

Eventually, they emerged at some small ruin in a wooded clearing. Crumbling stone walls formed an uneven square that allowed a break from the wind. The ranger built a small fire and sat. He patted the log next to him coaxing her to sit.

“The robes are for two purposes.” One, the Orcs don’t really fear the monks, so they won’t sound any major alarm and mass if they spot you. The second reason I will brief you on later after the girl is found. I am hoping you can extend your assistance as I am in need of a bit of help in this other matter. Loric said you can be trusted."

Genevieve nodded. She sensed this man was reliable. She always had a good intuition about character. Her first impressions of him indicated he was competent and trustworthy.
“Of course I shall help anyway I can.” She asserted.

Rye studied her a moment as she assessed him. He liked her immediately. Some people had that effect on him, but not many. He had learned to mistrust after Aluvia’s death. It was a lesson well entrenched. But this woman brought out something in him. He couldn’t put a finger on it yet except for the fact it wasn’t a bad thing. He felt a bit protective…even though he sensed she was dangerously good with that sword she wore. He chuckled to himself at the thought of who would need protection the most. It may just be a certain ranger he has grown fond of.

“We will have to split up here as that blasted girl has confused the trail once again.” His voice was a mixture and respect and mild irritation for Sunny.

“You will head south some more toward the Orc fort. I will head east toward the cemetery.” He explained. “ We will rejoin after a couple of hours here.” His blue eyes looked into her grey ones steadily.

She nodded agreement but added, “What if we can’t find each other?”

Rye then cupped his hands in a strange way. He brought them to his mouth and lightly blew into a hole his thumbs formed. The sound of the nightingale she had heard during their jaunt was reproduced perfectly.

Her eyes widened with excitement. “Can you teach me that!” she blurted.

“I intent to right now” he responded.

With that said, Rye took her hands and gently formed them up. She watched him intently. Her eyes alternated from her hands to his rugged face, and back again. She noted his sandy blond goatee. Her stomach tingled a wee bit as she was reminded of a blacksmith she once had a crush on. She forced the thought down and refocused on her hands.

Genevieve practiced a bit to no avail before he made a bit of an adjustment and asked her to blow lighter into her hands. Suddenly she did it, bringing a smile to both of their lips.

“Alright! Now if there is danger around,” he said. “You make that noise once…I’ll answer it twice…and vice versa. Move to the sound slowly and repeat every so often.”

The robed woman nodded and felt quite smug she learned something her brother couldn’t do…She almost felt like a ranger now. She smiled at Rye happily as she eyed the trail south.

“Keeps your wits about you,” Rye added as they parted ways. “She’s a hider!”

Genevieve nodded and waved before taking a deep breath. She left the camp and walked a few yards before turning around once more. Rye had disappeared…leaving her alone except for the sound of the morning crickets.... and an occasional nightingale.


Last edited by Loric on Tue Aug 13, 2013 3:46 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 5:36 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The lithe female swordswoman picked her pace up as she heard the sounds of battle somewhere ahead in the woods. Her grey eyes keenly spied outward beyond each branch and bush pushed aside in her effort to gain ground. The grunts and cries were mostly undeniably Orcish but blended in was a single high pitched voice that sounded energetically childlike.

“Take that... and that...and that one too!” sounded the small voice, immediately answered by a painful grunt from an apparent Orc.

‘It must be Sunny.’ determined the flaxen haired Genevieve as she moved toward the commotion in the southern Yew woods.

Her guess was confirmed in the next few minutes when she broke out into a small clearing and saw the mayhem.

There, standing surrounded by orc bodies, was a diminutive female in a torn and tattered purple dress. She was blond with highlights of red orc blood in her short hair and down her face. He blew a loose hair from her eye as the last standing orc approached. If she was frightened, it did not show. She twirled her small dagger which gleamed wet with orc fluids and grinned at him. He charged her and missed miserably in his attempt to slice her away.

“Woo Hoo!..Yippee!...Hooray!” she exclaimed as she dexterously ran around him. She deftly sliced his Achilles tendon on the way by. After that, it was all academic.
The halfling scurried toward Genevieve then skidded to a halt when she saw her standing there.

“Hey! You ain’t no orc!” blurted the wee female.

“Are you Sunny?” asked Genevieve as she put away her sword and folded her arms.

“How ye know that!” the girl squinted as she asked the question. “Loric send ye after me?”

The tall woman nodded.

“Aint gooin back so goo away!” countered Sunny. “Ahh hates him now. He made me sad! And now I’m a cannonball!!!”

“A what?!” Genevieve managed. “How are you a cannonball? What do you mean?”

“Well…he made me remember them Goblins made me eat kin flesh…makes me a cannonball now don’t it!!” She looked at the woman like she should know all this.

Genevieve realized she meant cannibal, but was a little off. If the subject wasn’t so heartbreaking she may have even smiled at the mispronunciation.

“You aren’t no cannibal Sunny.” Her voice was soft and sympathetic. “But I’ll bet your hungry!” she smiled.

“Ohh…Yup!... Am!” she squealed, suddenly putting away her dagger and running up to the tall swordswoman.

“Let’s see… What do I have here?” her grey eyes were playfully looking down at the girl as she rummaged. “ I have…Ohh!..You wouldn’t like this!” she teased. “It’s just some old sausage…and honey syrup!”

“WAIT!” cried the small girl. “That’s my favorite thing in the whole world!” A very large grin filled her dirty streaked face. She seemed to suddenly forget about orcs, ‘cannonballs’ and hating certain bards.

She snatched the food and began to eat with ferocity licking her fingers as she finished up. Her grin remained all through the process. Her blue eyes studied Genevieve making note of her fancy armor.

“Your sooo pretty! Wish I had curly hair like that.” Sunny’s hand ran absently through her own short, matted hair as she jealously looked Gennevieve’s flaxen curls. “But I’m gonna be a real lady soon! Yup! Ain't lying this time neither! Loric said he’s gonna get a real Countess te teach me!” she nodded hard.

“Well...Maybe I can help too Sunny.” added the pretty swordswoman. “In fact I happen to have…this!” she again rummaged through her pack pulling out a pretty blue dress she had worn at the ball earlier.

Sunny’s eyes widened when she saw the beautiful frilly gown.

“Kin I try it on!” she pleaded.

“You can keep it!” smiled Genevieve.

“Oh boy!” Sunny wailed. “Wait right there I’m gonna change in the bush!”

Genevieve turned around and waited with a smile. “Tell me when your ready!”

In a few minutes the wee voice said she could turn around now.

Genevieve looked and had to really work not to burst out laughing. The girl looked adorably sweet. But the dress was far too big and hung off her like a satiny sack. It formed waves upon the ground that would prevent the girl from walking more than a step or two without tripping.

Sunny didn’t seem to notice as she looked up with a huge grin.

“Why…You look like real lady Sunny!” said Genevieve.

This encouraged the wee one to widen her grin and try to pose ladylike. Her hand went to her hip as the other went behind her head. She looked adorable…even when her dagger rattled to the ground from somewhere inside the gown.

“Buggers!” Sunny exclaimed as she quickly picked up the small item. “What! It’s me eatin fork! All the real ladies have im!”

“Of course they do!” agreed Genevieve. "I got mine right here too!"

Sunny grinned again and gathered the plethora of cloth from the ground to allow her to walk to Genevieve. She only came up the tall lady’s waist but he hugged the swordswoman’s knees in gratitude.

The swordswoman was a bit surprised from her sudden affection, but couldn’t help but put a hand on the poor girls matted hair and return the hug.

“I think it’s time to go home sweetie...” she said in a soft voice.

Sunny never lifted her head from the comfort of Genevieve’s knees... She merely nodded her approval…


Last edited by Loric on Tue Aug 13, 2013 3:52 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 02, 2012 3:24 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Two sets of eyes peered out though the yellowing fall weeds that grew in random spurts over the small rise. Both robed figures lay on their bellies, quietly watching the dark shapes go about their secretive business around the back walls of the Yew Prison.

Crates were being moved to a small coast hugger moored close in, on one of a hundred hidden bays that lined the jagged coast. The night was moonless, making it difficult to track the clandestine activity with any surety. The two watchers followed the trails of torchlight as it moved from somewhere near the building to the anchored boat. There, the merchandise was loaded into dinghies and transported away.

Rye Lockman, one of the hooded viewers moved closer to the other, the swordswoman Genevieve. He whispered quietly into her hood, advising they stay put till sunrise. The grey eye woman nodded and returned her gaze toward the suspicious group below.

The ranger caught her scent again when he moved in to share his plan. It was a faint fragrance that he was now familiar with. She smelled like springtime…after a sweet rain… and it was killing him.
He hadn’t been this close to a woman since before his wife was murdered almost ten years ago. Up until a few weeks ago, the part of him that desired passion and companionship was effectively dead. Choked with the guilt and shame of not protecting the only woman he ever loved.

Something recently untied those cruel bonds of remorse and self-pity. He did not know what exactly triggered the release. Maybe it was the dream of his wife’s ghost…or a glimpse of that elven woman…or a simple scent from somewhere. But he was sure of what was perpetuating it now. It was Genevieve’s presence, next to a man who had denied himself for a decade. He murmured a quiet prayer to the gods… thanking them for not granting her the power to read his mind…. and for his gift of discipline.

“Did you say something?’ she mouthed quietly.

“Umm...No milady…I was clearing my throat.” He whispered back. “I might have swallowed a bug.”

“Ewww!” she remarked passing him an apple. “Try this.”

“Ohh…Thanks.” He nodded.

He could see her smile in the shade of the hood, further increasing his comfortableness. He shuffled his hips a bit and settled in to what he knew was going to be a very long few hours.

Finally, the sun peeked up a bit, sharing its gift onto the dew covered ground. The activity was over near the prison walls. There was no trace of anything ever occurring. The two “monks” made their way down to the walls looking as holy as they could.

They both proceeded to comb the area for anything incriminating to report to the proper authorities. Presently, they lacked even an inkling of proof. Then…a break presented itself.

Following a print that ended at one of the corner walls, Rye noticed a stone sticking out a bit further than the rest. He pushed…it depressed…and the wall quietly moved slowly inward, revealing a dark space inside.

“Psst!” he whispered to Genevieve. “Over here!”

She responded and soon was peering in the darkness with him. They slipped inside the opening and found a lantern hanging on a nail. Rye lit it as the swordswoman closed the door. There were all sizes of crates and boxes piled inside the small chamber. They had a huge variety of seals from different shipping companies and merchants branded onto them.

“These must be smuggled. And they seem not to be prejudiced on whom they smuggle from.” remarked Rye with a bit of sarcasm.

“What’s this?” Genevieve asked, while pointing to a strange runed circular platform nestled inside the circle of crates. It was made of stone and had magic burn covering it.

Rye sensed some danger, mostly due to the unknown function of this obvious device. His protective instinct took over. If this thing was going to kill anyone…it would be him. Another ten years of guilt was NOT going to present itself.

“Wait here Gen,” he cautioned before approaching the stone.

Rye tossed a small piece of wood from one of the damaged crates onto the floor of the stone. It immediately flared, then winked out in a flash.

“Damn…I was afraid of that.” he uttered. “I’m going to have to test this myself.” He swallowed a bit nervously as the thought of himself being immolated flashed in his mind. He chuckled suddenly, as he realized his only regret would have been not acting on his instincts regarding Genevieve before he died.

“I’m going to test this. It looks like a magical teleport of some kind.” Rye looked as Gen as he spoke.

“Oh gods. Be careful.” she said. “Maybe we shouldn’t!” she bit her lower lip with apprehension.

“If I’m not back in a few minutes….get yourself out of here and report.” The ranger commanded.

She reluctantly nodded….as he reluctantly took a step onto the device.

In a flash he was gone, feeling vertigo set in. He saw spinning air and lights pass by his eyes just before he was unceremoniously dumped onto a cold cave floor.

“ Well..at least I’m alive.” he countered as he lifted the lantern. The cave went into a passage ahead that smelled of the sea. He also heard the faint crashing of waves.

After going back through and retrieving a relieved Genevieve, they followed the long lichen lined stone cave wall till it ended at a crude ladder going up. The two ascended before coming to a trap door above their heads. Rye slowly opened it, cursing quietly at the creak its rusty hinges produced. They slipped up and realized they were alone…in a lighthouse… somewhere far from any population.

“Search the place good.” suggested Rye to his accomplice. “Turn over every stone.”

Genevieve nodded and they began looking. They found timetables and cargo manifests of ships that would pass by, heading for the serpents gate from Papua and Delucia. Evidence of many shipwrecks littered the beaches around the small isthmus that the great light occupied. It was easy to put two and two together. Someone was manipulating the lighthouse…causing ships to crash mercilessly against the rocks. The cargoes were picked clean from the shores and transferred to the prison’s secret room. There, they were picked up by whoever was responsible and sold on the black market. Rye imagined any surviving merchant seamen were shanghaied into servitude to pirates or slave-owners.

The two finished up their investigation by returning things back in place save a few incriminating documents. The thought was not to alert them before the authorities had a chance to catch them in the act. There was only one big question left…and it was asked by Genevieve.

Rye knew she was intuitive, so he wasn’t surprised when she quietly posed the question…
“Which authorities…can we trust?”…
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