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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: Tue Oct 09, 2012 4:05 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The old Britain warehouse on the docks was barely used anymore....No one was really sure if it would ever be used again. It might even be flagged to be torn down. It execution orders could very well already be under a stack of red tape somewhere in the city offices. Nobody really knew or cared...except the rats. They hid from the bright light of day in its many dark recesses. The old structure also had a room in the back. It might have been the office in its heyday, where dock managers would tally up the incoming and outgoing cargo from the merchant ships. Presently....a bigger rat occupied this space.

“Look what that bastard done to us! He cut us good didn't he!” moaned a shirtless man sitting in a dirty corner dabbing his side with a blood stained cotton cloth. “And what did we do to deserve this?!...Nothing! We were minding our own business wasn't we!!?...We was only talking to that pretty little green eyed girlie wasn't we!....We wasn't hurting the hiding little cat wench!....Were we?!....No! We weren’t....But we can't get her now...can we!...No!...We got to go...Tis a pity we can't show her our knife! I want to cut off that tail…yes!!....The tail was pretty!”

The man talked to a sailor lying naked and dead in the other corner. The bruise on the seaman’s forehead was substantial. Norris pulled the dead man's striped shirt over his head and tucked it in covering the painful wound. He looked over the man's sailing orders making a note of his ship's destination.

The man looked up when he heard the scurrying sound across the small room. He pointed a finger in its direction and heard a squeal as an unfortunate rat accepted a blue missile to its head.

“Dinnertime!” he chuckled, while feinting blowing smoke from his index digit.

He then crawled over to the dead rodent and picked the smoldering remains up to eye level. “Yes! We got new tricks now for our next stop...Don't we?”...Yes! New tricks we got!”

The man then mumbled a few arcane words along with mixing some of the rat's blood onto some bluish powder in a tube. The mixture began to emit a noxious green smoke that formed tiny vapor claws which wrestled up to attached themselves to his face. The cloud swirled around his head for a moment or two before disappearing. When the smoke cleared...he wore the face of the dead sailor.

And as easy as that...The Rose Killer boarded a ship and sailed out of Britain. But in all his arrogance...he still overlooked one small clue that, if found, could topple his world. He left with all the confidence that the Bards would never find him…

After all...he was superior in all ways... over all other men...and if you don't believe it...just ask him.


Last edited by Loric on Tue Oct 09, 2012 8:05 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Loric
Journeyman
Journeyman


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

PostPosted: Tue Oct 09, 2012 7:22 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

“I think sausages and syrup really helps to bring down the swelling.” said Sunny as she sat up in bed eating contentedly. “Might need some more!” she grinned.

The female Halfling possessed a newly wrapped bandage around her head. She had collected a nasty bump in a tussle with a very dangerous killer. She was rendered unconscious for the better part of two days. The brave Cat Lynxen and the timely ranger Darious Crosse, had driven off the murderous madman and whisked the wounded Halfling from danger. Loric would always be grateful.

Aurelia, the Countess of Ashencrosse, had used her considerable influence to provide Sunny with the best medical care available. The girl was resilient and was recovering at an accelerated rate. According to Sunny, her complete return to health was now solely in the hands of the cook Aurelia provided.

Her guardian, Loric Syntel, looked down at her with less worry then a couple of days ago.

“If sausages and syrup are the curing agent, then there should be no trace of your injury left.” mused the Bard. “That’s your third helping today and it’s still early.”

“Yup! It’s got real good healin’ stuff in it somewhere.” agreed the girl. “But ye gotta keep eatin’ ‘em te make it work right.”

“Really?’ said Loric amusingly. “Then it seems we only have possible overdose concerns to worry our minds….Hmmm?”

“Oh! Nope! Ain’t no danger there!” stated the Halfling sounding like she was a medical expert. “Nuthin in ‘em to hurt ye if ye eat too much. But big danger if ye doon eat enough of ‘em. Ye better warn the kitchen Loric!”

“Very well! I shall see to it on my way out to run a couple of errands.” He smiled and kissed her forehead gently. Before walking out the door, the bard turned and looked at her a bit playfully.

Sunny grinned curiously.

“Oh!" smirked the bard. "After you are finished with me and the cook, there are a couple of cows out back that need milking too!”

Sunny’s expression became perplexed as she watched him leave with a chuckle.

‘What’s he smiling about?’ she complained to herself. ‘I’m the one dying here!’

That said, she took another bite of succulent smoked sausage….dripping with sweet honey syrup…
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Loric
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Location: Southern usa

PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2012 5:30 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The elaborately decorated captain's cabin swayed gently to the slow pull of the incoming tide. A hanging lantern lit the surface of a small writing desk where a slim, black haired man sat scratching words into a large, leather bound journal. His weathered, whiskered face looked older than the thirty years that it claimed, yet his body was still fit and trim. His expression held a bit of impatience as he wrote down the day’s events into the log.

A light knock on door sent 'Cutlass' taking cover under the small red leathered couch where he was snoozing. The tip of the cat's tail swished in irritation of the interruption as the door opened with a creak.

"Captain Moore? Why are we behind schedule?" asked the smooth voiced man who stuck his head into the cabin.

The captain, Davis Moore, didn't even glance over at the small, mousey looking man dressed in the brown, button-up traveling robe of the Empath Abbey order.

"Because the cargo isn't loaded yet," answered Moore still writing in the log. "It seems the natives have a problem harvesting the west side of the island. My interpreter says they consider the land sacred. We are negotiating the point now."

A slight frown appeared on the thin lips of the monk as he closed the cabin door and entered.

'Cutlass' hissed as the dark man took a seat on the couch.

"My superiors hired you because of your reputation of delivering cargo on time." said the robed man, "They paid you twice the normal fee for this commission and will not be happy if you are not to deliver."

Davis let the pen fall and slowly turned with his eyes narrowed. "Are ye threatening me now Casilius?" The Captains fingers caressed the handle of his rapier dangerously.

Casilius face seemed not the least bit unnerved. "Heavens no captain.” He said. “I’m merely reminding you of a condition of the bargain. The Abbey is not very forgiving when their expectations are not met."

The Captain now showed a bit of nervousness. He remembered being hired for this job by a man who hid behind some opaque curtain in an old shadowy warehouse office. Davis thought it a bit eerie, but the gold offered was good, better than anything he had ever seen. It was a simple sail from Britain to a small Island southeast of the main continent and load up a cargo of some weed they called 'Kerf''... and sail it back. It seemed like easy work.

He remembered entering what the natives called the 'Bay of Rain' with his ship, the 'Whydah'. It was a paradise alright...with warm sunlight, crystal green waters, lush fruit trees and friendly natives. Initially the chief was quite happy with the chests of trinkets offered to trade for this weed that grew in abundance on the island. The villagers cooperated happily until the hold was half full. Then they stalled because the remaining harvest would take them onto a track of land considered a sacred burial ground. For a week the crew drank and relaxed while the Captain and interpreter negotiated unsuccessfully.

"It may be time for a grimmer approach Captain," offered Casilius without emotion.

Davis squinted at the man. The captain was already perturbed that this representative of the Abbey had to sail with him as part of the bargain. The little man had too much 'faith' as far as Moore was concerned. The monk was almost fanatical in a sinister sort of way. He started putting the fear of god into the natives as soon he took to shore. The priest preached of preparing the way for the return of this 'One True God' or be damned to some eternal fire.

"You aren’t suggesting forcing them are you?" asked the Captain, "Slavery isn't my style Casilius."

"Captain," answered the priest darkly, "We all do what we must to find salvation."

The priest’s eyes turned black for a moment with a trace of red swirling around them. The room’s temperature suddenly dropped. A fearful chill arrowed through the Captain as his breath turned to a ghostly vapor.

Just as abruptly as it began, the sensation passed, and the priest's eyes became normal. The Captain stared over at the diminutive man with a new caution...and decided then and there...he would finish this job quickly... with whatever method it would take.

Captain Davis Moore suspected...that his very soul depended on it.....


Last edited by Loric on Sun Oct 14, 2012 10:23 am; edited 1 time in total
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Loric
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PostPosted: Thu Oct 11, 2012 7:01 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The ranger tossed and turned restlessly as he tried to get a bit of sleep under a Yew night sky. There were a few concerns that contributed to the apparent insomnia that encompassed Rye Lockman this eve. The fact that ‘Scarlett’ wasn’t heard from in a few days accounted for a bit of the worry. But deep down, Rye felt she was more than capable to handle most threats that may come her way.

Loric made a visit to the campsite to discuss why the pirate expedition was still not underway. The merchants were putting pressure on Boston, who was more than happy to pass it along to Loric who, in turn, was not opposed to handing it down to Rye.

“The bloody ship needs refitting!” answered Rye. “Another week the smiths keep telling me.” He looked at Loric evenly.

“We don’t have a week.” The bard said softly. “The merchants are getting ‘unreasonable’ to the point of taking actions unhealthy to themselves and others around them. They threaten to get into bed with the seadogs themselves.” Lorics squeezed the index finger and the thumb of one hand along his eyes finally pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“What do you want us to do? Swim out there and get them?” rebuffed the ranger. “Those defective cannons almost killed ‘Scarlett’ you know.” Rye look down at the fire a bit agitated.

Loric nodded sympathetically. “I know.” The bard studied the ranger quietly and, for a few moments, no words were spoken. Finally Loric said something that he meant only as advice to a friend.

“Unrequited love is an exercise in futility.” said Loric. “I learned that the hard way once. It is only breaks concentration and makes us see things that aren’t really there. Rye, I don’t mean to preach and will not speak of it again. It is your life to waste if you deem it necessary.” The bard’s voice was not condescending but sincere in its tone.

Loric then slapped his thighs and stood up pacing a bit. His arms folded and one hand came to his mouth. He tapped is upper lip thoughtfully with his finger.

“Boston wants me to get you a crew pronto.” announced the bard, “and I intend to do that very thing. Hopefully, they can secure a ship as well.”

“Who have you in mind?” asked the ranger.

“A bard!” quipped Loric. “And if you can’t trust a bard…who can you trust!” Loric chuckled as Rye rolled his eyes.

“Who is this bard and can he really be trusted?” asked the ranger.

“Boston’s sources say he can.” added Loric “His name is Judas D’arc. They also say he keeps a company of friends who share similar values as us.” Loric looked serious at Rye. “Let’s face it Rye, we need more manpower. And if this man can provide us some allies… by the gods we will use them.

Rye nodded in consent. "Well, when you are finished your little recruitment, let me know where to hook up with them for briefing. Nothing would please me more not to have to ‘Captain’ another ship.”

They both laughed a bit over this since they shared the same feeling of seasickness when not on dry land. Soon, Loric bid him farewell leaving the ranger alone in the camp. He thought about the advice given him. Loric was right. He was letting his passions distract him from his work. He would get them all killed if he couldn’t pull in the reins.

She was the first water a very thirsty man saw when climbing from the dark crevice of self-loathing. Why wouldn’t he desire her, whether or not she was right for him? Reality was so distant from the fantasy he was living. She was noble…he could barely spell the word. It was time to put his concentration elsewhere. The ranger would stay a course of practicality. And, if it was to be that a woman wished to share his life, the ranger would not dismiss the possibility…if he deemed it was mutual.

The ranger was fortunate that Loric was there tonight to set the ship going in the right direction. He needed to refocus and now was firm in his resolve to perserver. Having decided his course of action, he
could now lie down to sleep. A fleeting pang of worry arrowed through him. It ran parallel with a passing thought of his partner. He hoped she was alright. ‘Of course she was…’ he thought.

....and he continued to toss and turn for the rest of the night...
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Loric
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PostPosted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 10:13 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The two shapes peered through the iron bars that filled the small square centered in a sturdy oaken door. The darkness was only interrupted by orange torchlight thrown out by burning sticks set at intervals along the stone wall. The sun outside may have been shining in all its glory, but down here, there was no way of telling night from day… and in some cases, fiction from reality.

The recipient of the men’s attention was a fellow hanging in chains from the wall inside a small dirty cell. He entered the place with a bit of bravado and a set of flamboyant clothes worthy of a pirate captain. His fine clothes now lay in some jailer’s personal closet and all that spunk was quickly beat out of him.

“Has he given us anything yet Boston?” whispered the younger blond man to the older one.

“No names yet Loric.” returned Boston Grey, the leader of the Reeves guild. “He fears something worse than death. An entity he refers to as 'the executioner.' And he does not deny that there is someone pushing and pulling the levers of the red brotherhood.”

The voices were used in a whispered hush as the two men continued to delve into the mystery of who was organizing the normally independent operators of the pirate fleet.

“The group you hired did well.” Boston spoke while staring at the unconscious prisoner. “The “Widow’s Revenge” hardly took damage.”

Loric nodded and thought back to the hiring of the small group of mercenaries led by Judas D’arc. They were quite capable. Rye had briefed him on the speed and efficiency of the voyage south. The ranger reported a finely tuned fellowship, except for the part of the voyage when Gaius encouraged Rye’s seasickness with offers of meat.

The gypsy woman Alisiea, sparked a peculiar curiosity in Boston, who asked many questions about her. Loric didn’t know why the sudden interest in gypsy life intrigued the leader, but was sure it would mean more travel for the bard. So he didn’t ask.

Loric remembered the pretty Jolicia being somehow attached emotionally to Judas. She was familiar to him in some strange way. The bard couldn’t place why… but she had certain gesture that somehow reminded him of the countess. Together, he deemed, Judas and Jolicia made a very dynamic pair.

The other crewman, Nythrax, was reported to have a mystical power that made him very dangerous indeed. It was he that conjured an entity that simultaneously helped to overwhelm the pirate lord as well as make Rye extremely nervous.

There was another. A very beautiful elven woman called Faeryl. Loric was disappointed that she had to exit the briefing as the elven perspective was sometime helpful in these matters.

Boston’s voice dragged Loric’s mind to the present.

“The ships log that the Captain tried to throw overboard seems to indicate Abbey involvement. But it’s vague and tells us nothing else.” speculated Boston

Loric nodded recalling Jolicia’s recovery of the slightly incriminating entry in the ships log. It asked the captain to deliver a mystery 'special' cargo to some predetermined destination. The specifics weren’t mentioned.

“I’m going on a trip Loric.” uttered Boston suddenly.

“Pray tell!” answered Loric, outwardly relieved it wasn’t himself being asked to go away.

“We need eyes among the pirates, especially if we can’t get answers from them.” said the leader. “It’s time I retrieved Kate.”

“Kate!?” queried Loric. “I thought you said she was a cutthroat and a scalawag.”

“Yes…I did!” answered the older bard. “But I did speak those words with great affection!” Boston’s expression was playful.

Loric chuckled, shaking his head.

“Besides,” added Boston. “I was told once by a very wise man…if you want to catch sharks…hire a shark.”…


Last edited by Loric on Tue Aug 13, 2013 4:03 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Loric
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Posts: 101
Location: Southern usa

PostPosted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 9:55 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The sleek shape of the fast moving sloop tacked through a mild headwind as it sliced slowly into a secluded cove west of Vesper. It’s acting captain, Ebenezer Poe, was careful to slip in under the cover of night to avoid any unnecessary questions. Poe peered through a looking glass until he saw the signal fire burning brightly on a hidden beach.

“Orders sir?” questioned the helmsman as he steered the vessel into the deep water cove.

Captain Poe slammed closed the telescope and answered while still staring toward the coast. “Drop anchors Mr. Dewey. We have arrived. Load the cargo into the Dinghy and prepare to go ashore.”



Two riders spurred their spirited steeds through the fog along the coastal road. The darkly cloaked pair, riding black stallions, resembled twin, fast moving wraiths leaving a trail of dust behind them. They rode swiftly and with purpose. Their thundering hoof beats broke the silence of the night as the distance was covered. Both horses gracefully jumped a hedge without missing a step, the sound being muffled by the sudden cushion of soft sand under them. The duo rode for another half mile before pulling up and deftly dismounting at a small campsite on the beach.

The taller rider removed his hood and cloak, shaking off the road dust. His blond hair and still handsome yet aging face revealed itself in the light of a bright moon as he tied up his horse on a nearby bush. The smaller figure followed suit. She was a pretty, petite woman with brown hair and dark eyes. She warily scanned the beach with her palms attached to two deadly looking blades hanging from her belt.

“Let me get a fire going Kate.” spoke the blond man quietly. “It will prevent chill.” His eyes looked upon her in friendship and a warm smile appeared.

“Thank you Boston, I shall prepare a bit of food then. You must be hungry.” The woman’s voice carried gently over the mild sea breeze.

Soon a bright fire blazed in a pit. The two sat on driftwood logs and quietly reminisced over the soothing sound of waves lapping up onto the shore. They caught up on each other’s activities and mutual acquaintances. They touched upon the shady old paths their lives had traveled, shared stories of happy triumphs, and cursed the occasional loss. The pair whispered of business, dark prophecies, a killer bearing roses and pirates.

“Why did you bring me all the way out here to speak Boston?” queried Kate. “Although a lovely spot, we very well could have done this over a tankard of ale at the Drunken Sailor Inn.”

Boston engaged her with a smile. “I felt like a horse ride Kate! And a marvelous ride it was! Did you feel the wind? Glorious!”

Kate studied him with a bit of suspicion before flashing a rare smile. “Alright,” she conceded, “I did enjoy the ride. I have too long been chained to my duties on the ship. I’d forgotten the joy of a brisk gallop.”

Kate Cervantes was the first mate on the privateer vessel ‘Scalawag.’ Her ‘opportunity being awarded her by the Nujel’m Reeves when she was down and out and without a ship. She was chosen for her extensive knowledge of the sea as well as that rare combination of bravery and good sense. She was by no means overly cautious, in spite of her acute gift of decision-making. And so far, the calculated risks she had chosen to execute had all turned out in her favor.

As a result of her stunning successes, the ship’s crew had developed the utmost confidence and respect for the first mate. This attitude was much to the chagrin of the ever jealous Captain Brownlee. There were whispers. Some were not very complimentary toward the Captain of the ‘Scalawag’. The rumors were she trumped Brownlee in both seamanship AND guts. This situation caused unrest among the crew. Lines were being drawn, loyalties chosen. The resulting smoldering powder keg was about to seriously jeopardize the Reeves ‘eyes’ on the pirate activity…not to mention danger to Kate. So the decision was made to recall her.

Kate suddenly looked out toward the water listening. “Someone approaches by sea.” Twin blades, cruelly curved with sharpened edges, appeared in her hands as she stood and stared warily.

Boston didn’t turn and looked a bit amused. “It’s alright Kate”, the bard spoke calmly. “You won’t need those. These are expected allies and it would be sorely inconvenient to them if you cut them up.” Boston’s voice was playful.

Kate raised a brow but sheathed her weapons trustingly as a small dinghy was being dragged onto the shoreline. She watched a man exit the boat and walk toward them with a small chest secured under his right arm.

Boston remained sitting with a sly smile on his face. “Kate, this is Captain Poe, currently the commander of the fast sloop ‘Sea Witch.’ Boston paused, sighing a bit wistfully. “By the gods she’s a beautiful vessel. State of the art she is. She cuts through the sea like a fish…her lines perfectly sleek.”

The bard eyed the man with the small box. “Poe, you have a message for Kate?”

The Commander looked at Kate and spoke all official like. “Are you Kate Cervantes?”

The woman nodded with a bit of confusion.

Poe opened the small chest and brought out some official looking documents. He handed her a large feather quill after dipping it into a bottle of black ink.

“It is my honor to transfer title of the ‘Sea Witch” to you Milady. She is a fine ship and can outrun most. She’s trim and with a well-seasoned crew. They await your orders Milady. Just sign the ownership title and she’s all yours.” announced Poe.

Kate’s mouth opened in a bit of shock. This was her dream…another ship. She recalled losing her merchant rig in the storm off the Cape so many years ago. She could hardly contain her excitement and had to steady her hand to make her mark. Kate looked up at Boston with a smile and a knowing, appreciative squint. Her left hand scratched out her mark.

“Congratulations Captain Cervantes.” said Poe with a slight respectful bow. “May a fair wind always be at your back.” He handed the title to Kate and bowed again. “I shall wait in the small boat to take you to address the crew.” Ex-Captain Poe then headed toward the dinghy to await further orders.

Boston and Kate stared at each other for a few seconds before she walked over and hugged her old friend. He returned the hug and kissed her forehead gently. She looked up at him…voice silent…eyes saying thank you.

They both knew the gift didn’t come without a price. There would be obligation to the Reeves. Kate was practical. She would have no problems being allied with Boston knowing she still had her freedom to operate. With sails and ship under her feet, she was alive again. She turned toward the waiting sailors and slowly walked away.

Just before she entered the rowboat she heard Boston yell. “I shall be in touch Captain Cervantes!...and have that seasick remedy waiting!”

Then he watched as the burly sailor’s rowed away with their new leader...and he heard her confident commands to the crew vanishing into the salty sea breeze.
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Loric
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 16, 2012 5:01 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The Witch cackled in a high pitched voice. Her question obviously amused her… almost as much as it made Genevieve uncomfortable.
“Are ye with this woman?” The witch repeated. Her face showed curiosity, her dark eyes flashed.

“That’s a question I’ve been trying to get an answer too myself!” blurted the tall ranger as he shot a glance at Genevieve. “Can you read Palms? Maybe that will give me some insight.”

The lovely swordswoman next to Rye Lockman, a ranger of Yew, suddenly blushed red. “I…um…I’ll wait outside…”

Rye shook his head as he watched Genevieve quickly exit the home of Grizelda the Hag. The Witch seemed quite pleased and cackled again.

“Now ye kin come comfort ole Griz on some cold day Ranger.” She smiled, simultaneously undressing him with her eyes. “I’ll be keeping ye warm!”

Rye could only sigh and wonder how the hell he got into the place he was standing. He closed his eyes; His finger and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to quell a throbbing headache. His mind pieced together the chain of events that led him to this spot.

‘Oh yes…’ he thought. ‘It was that house…the one in Yew.’

Two day’s prior…

The smell was sickening…even with the door shut. Rye Lockwood jimmied the lock with a bar. Quin, his tattooed female accomplice, looked on with trepidation. She too could smell the scent of death. They had already found the bloody monk's robe in the back of the house. It bore a symbol of the Reeves, an embroidered harp, on the inside sleeve. It definitely belonged to Robert, the agent sent to look into a rumor of kidnapping in and around the Abbey.

When the door jamb finally gave in, he was almost sorry. The sight and smell made his stomach heave. There as a corpse on a table. Buzzing flies and squirming maggots fed on it like was some gruesome buffet. Rye pulled a cloth over his face and approached cautiously. The man was cut into six pieces. The parts were then placed around the head and torso. The ranger drew in his breath sharply when he saw the tattoo. The head was Robert’s.

Rye looked grimly toward Quin and indicated they should do a search of the house before calling the authorities. It took them about thirty minutes to come up with a few bloody notes, some alum bottles and not much more. Rye was about to leave when, under the notes, he saw something peculiar carved into the wooden table. He drew out his parchment paper and laid it over the relief. The piece of charcoal he carried was rubbed across the surface neatly capturing the image.

It was a rendering of some sort of monster…huge and hulking. It had tentacles hanging from its horrid face. It was walking out of water and dripped residue onto the world. Rye noticed a small latch on the carving while he was making the rubbing. It perforated the parchment a bit and, most likely, would have been missed otherwise.

Pulling on the tiny knob opened a hollow in the table. It was hiding a strange nautical spyglass. The telescope glowed blue and sat in an ornate padded box. The words ‘Oracle of the Sea’ were engraved on its metal core. Rye slipped it out of its nesting place and signaled to Quin. She was looking through the bookcase but so far found only a mundane assortment of books. It was time to go find fresher air.

Yesterday…

Genevieve had returned tonight, much to the relief of the Ranger. The swordswoman was at the Lycaem, researching the old lay of the land in hopes of finding some forgotten tunnel under the prison that might have been overlooked.

Rye had words with her, spurred mostly by the notion that is was improper procedure not to inform your partner if you are to disappear for a couple of days. He neglected to mention his worry and sleepless nights. The ranger deemed that would only fluster her. But he did put a protective arm around her as they camped for the night. Rye wanted no more worry from another sudden disappearance due to her penchance for spontaneity. She shrunk lower into her sleeping roll when his arm enclosed her, as if trying to disappear. Rye chuckled… thinking she probably peed herself too.

The morning brought word from Boston that he wanted the two of them to visit the Hag that lived in the wood south east of Yew. He wanted her impression of the rendering and any other lore she may have available on the subject. Genevieve seemed excited of this premise. The girl was truly an adventurous sort, an attribute that endeared her to the ranger. Rye consciously tried let these endearments pass quickly as he felt nothing reciprocal in her presence. It only served to confuse him… and apparently her as well.

The trip was uneventful except the ogre that was intent of absorbing 15 arrows before falling dead in front of the pair. Rye tried to warn him to stay away, but the beast seemed intent. Genevieve found the ‘stop and desist’ attempt somehow humorous.

Finally they approached the house of the Hag. It resembled a ruin of sorts, with crumbling walls and weeds growing every which way and that. She was humming and speaking strange words while stirring a large cauldron of unusual liquid. It didn’t smell too bad…medicinal Rye guessed. The ‘Hag’ was not what he expected. She was not at all the warty, wrinkled woman he imagined her to be. On the contrary, she was strangely attractive. But the reliability of such an opinion from the ranger, who hasn’t had a woman in ten years, was suspect to say the least. He found passing cows sometimes erotic.

Rye asked Gen to speak to the woman while he watched her back and scoped out the ruined abode. After introductions were complete, Genevieve did her best to control the conversation, but the witch couldn’t take her eyes of Rye.

“I can keep the ranger warm at night!” she cackled. “Come visit me here when you patrol!”

“Maybe I can stop for some tea.” said Rye. “But can you help us identify this drawing?” He smiled at her charismatically urging her to look at the paper.

The hag ignored the paper, but still stared and flirted with the ranger. “Are you with this woman?” asked the witch. Her fingers began to gently walk up his forearm. Her words prompted Genevieve to begin to blush.

“Define ‘with’?” chuckled the ranger, further causing the woman next to him to turn a shade of deeper red.

“I get lonely sometimes you know ...up here all alone.” The witch ignored the swordswoman and continued with some blatant insinuations toward the ranger.

Rye didn’t hear the last flirtation as his eyes spied something that almost knocked him over. He couldn’t believe his luck if what he saw was true. For there, sitting on her beat up and gnarly dresser, was a perfect rose.

“Well… Grizelda, it seems you aren’t lonely every night now are you?” he spoke with a playful smile. The ranger walked slowly toward the flower and pickedup the rose. It was silk! ‘This has to be from the rose killer,’ he thought to himself.

“And who brought you this little lovely thing?” asked the ranger curiously.

“Some man who never returned…His loss I say!” cackled the Hag. “Let’s get back to you handsome! Are you with this woman or not!”

“Hell if I know!” That’s a question I’ve been trying to get an answer too myself!” blurted the tall ranger as he shot a glance at Genevieve. “Can you read Palms? Maybe that will give me some insight.”

Genevieve turned red as a beet and backed up embarrassed. “I’m…I’m… waiting outside!” she managed to say. She almost fell over herself leaving.

Grizelda cackled loudly at the girls struggle. “Tell me what ye need…and promise te visit fi tea…and I’ll help ye. Doon get company much here. And I’ll warm ye in my bed if ye woon too!”

“I think I’ll just promise tea for now madam but it’s with great reservation I do so.” quipped Rye.

And then they sat and talked in earnest. Rye shared his tragic loss of ten years. He told of his feelings for Genevieve that he was now ignoring. He alerted her of killers carrying roses as well as some current events... including the mysterious rendering.

Grizelda told him of the man who pulled a rose from her hair, and how he didn’t return. She spoke of the beast in the drawing. She even gave it a name. She talked of loneliness…how she is misconstrued by the populace…shunned…and alone. Insights were made on the subject of Rye and Genevieve. She volunteered a potion that would surely make Gen fall in love. Rye declined reluctantly. The hag was surprisingly keen on matters of the heart. She explained the girl is baby, just out of the water.

“You can’t jump on her too quick. She has no experience in these matters and doesn’t know how to react. Don’t give up on her too soon. But don’t scare the behemoth out of her either!” She cackled again. “It’s not that she doesn’t want te return ye affections…she just doesn’t know ye enough!”

Rye left her house with a new perspective…on both hags…and a pretty swordswoman. He also had a rose. Boston would be clearly pleased. For Rye knew this small item he held was, somehow, the key to bring the madman down.

Genevieve was standing arms folded against the hut waiting for him. Rye looked at her and felt a little bad for his part in embarrassing her. ‘She really hasn’t a mean bone in her body.’ He thought.

The ranger signaled her over and they began to walk the path back to Britain to see Boston. Rye closed his eyes a moment and realized he still felt tingly near her. How could he ignore something that mixed so perfectly inside of him? He could not. Boston had told him once that if something was too easy, it usually wasn’t worth it. The ranger would just have to practice a trait came hard around her.
He would have to display patience….
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 17, 2012 6:08 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The fire was unbearable.....It surrounded the small party, leaving them no option but to burn. There was not a direction left to run...even the ceiling showed flame. The horrified Reever watched Genevieve combust helplessly as she tried to find a way through. Aurelia's lovely hair was burning as the intense heat began to melt away her flesh amid screams of agony. Rye was lying on the floor engulfed and unrecognizable. Loric watched in disbelief as the fire crept up his legs. In a moment, he would be cremated by the inferno as well.... leaving him only enough time to scream....

Loric Syntel awoke with a start. A cold sweat poured off him as he sat up and slipped shaking fingers through his damp blond hair. Getting his bearings, he saw Sunny sleeping comfortably across the room in the apartment at Ashencrosse. He was relieved to see no scotch marks. It was still very early in the morning according to the stars that twinkled through the window. Grabbing his robe, Loric wandered over to the bath and splashed some cool water onto his face. He saw Aurelia out the back window maintaining some silent vigil. He sat on the cold marble floor and exhaled gratefully. It was just another nightmare...most likely caused by recent events.

Boston wanted to reopen the rose killer file based on acquiring an item that might act as a focus in an attempt to scry out his location. The witch Grizelda had also volunteered to act out the ritual to spite the man who never returned. Loric was not so sure he believed in all this witchcraft and wondered if she was a charlatan wasting his precious time. He decided to test her, and asked Aurelia to assist him. Aurelia was tuned in some way to this magic and might detect if she was legitimate or not. The bard could have asked Aurelia to perform the old magic, and he did consider it. But there was a risk involved when reaching into places that are hidden from the world. Since Loric had no emotional investment in the Hag of the Wood, it was an easy decision.

His thoughts then went to poor Robert, the young agent sent to pose as a monk. Sadly, it was his last role. Robert surely discovered something important enough to merit his murder. Who were these players? What were they doing? The questions kept multiplying without the help of answers.

The ship that Boston donated to Kate had already paid a bit of a dividend. It seems she tailed the privateer Davis Moore to where his ship was being refitted. The two go back a long way. They both competed in the old days for the most lucrative merchant contracts. It seems they were noted scalawags in the seafaring community with some of their swashbuckling adventures referred to as ‘legendary’. It is also whispered that Davis loved her, and no one else, even through all the years of her absence. Loric surmised that due to this fact, getting the information couldn’t have been too difficult.

She had heard that Davis had secured a cargo for a fanatical monk called Casilius in the past month. It came from a seaman who sailed with Moore and was punished by the hated cleric. Davis indeed corroborated the fact, even telling her the nature of the load. It was a weed they called ‘kerf’. Its usefulness remained to be seen, but Davis maintained it was critical to the strange monk. He also swore this Casilius was in league with demons.

The bard walked back to his bed wishing he could also check on Rye and Genevieve. The dream's vividness made him fear for their safety, but he knew deep down that they were most likely safe in some Yew campsite.

Sunny stirred a moment as Loric settled back down in his bed. She mumbled something about sausages then drifted off. He lay back on the soft pillow with his hands behind his head and thought about this vision. He'd had dreams before and usually didn't pay too much attention to them. Being too superstitious was a characteristic he found unhelpful in his line of work. But this one troubled him...This one he sensed was either a warning or someone was trying to climb into his head.

Why else would he have the same exact dream....four nights in a row?


Last edited by Loric on Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:45 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 9:21 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The bard considered the tall beauty as she sat on a log in the forest clearing. She was a well-built, full figured female with smoldering dark blue eyes. Her raven hair fell to her shoulders in a sort of untamed yet flattering manner. Rye had said she was she was strangely sensual. His eyesight was apparently still good.

Loric was visiting the witch Grizelda after being told that she was an adept practitioner in the field of magic. He was specifically interested in her claim to be well versed in the art of scrying. She also held an important piece of the puzzle to finding the insane killer that was terrorizing woman on two continents: A simple artificial rose.

Loric had many questions. His mind was trained to be suspicious due to the cleverness of the villains he had dealt with over the years. He asked his partner, Aurelia, to watch the perimeter of the camp to insure there were no prying eyes. He watched her lithe form quietly blend into the wooded environment and vanish.

The Reever's main concern was to learn if Grizelda was legitimate and not some sort of quack. The book he had acquired at the Lycaem along with Aurelia’s knowledge of the arts gave him a rough idea what to look for. So far, she had said all the right things.

“So…you have his personal item, but don’t you need your own focus,” quizzed Loric, “like a mirror or a crystal ball?”

“Of course….’Tis a necessary part of the procedure.” She answered while taking a covered object from her purse. It was a small crystal ball wrapped in soft velvet cloth which she removed and used as a buffer to polish the glass. “There! Nice and shiny!” Her blue eyes sparkled in the sheen of the smooth surface.

The bard whispered to Aurelia who appeared rather quickly and silently.

“Can I have a bit of your hair now Aurelia?” he asked quietly. The two of them had devised a plan to test the Hag. They wanted to see firstly, if Grizelda could actually scry. Secondly, could Aurelia detect or hide from it.

Aurelia produced a blade and cut a small lock of her strawberry blond hair as planned. She then blended back into the woods effortlessly

“Can you demonstrate by finding my associate?” asked the blond bard. He dangled the lock of hair in front of Grizelda.

“As you wish.” answered the dark haired woman.

The witch took the hair sample and brought it to her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring its fragrance. Loric wondered if this was some way to better ‘tune in’ to the intended target. The woman then whispered a few unfamiliar words while softly touching the strands to the crystal. Her colbalt eyes disappeared into her head, leaving only an eerie white. She clearly was struggling a bit as she searched for the mind of Aurelia.

“She hides from me….she resists naturally… unknowingly….This one has a strong will.” Grizelda’s eyes became a deep blue as she spoke. A small smile formed on her face…almost as if she was happy for a challenge. She displayed no indication that failure was a remote possibility as she reclosed her eyes and uttered some other quiet arcane sounds. After a few seconds, her full, red painted lips turned up into a slight smile and her eyes flashed open. “Gotcha!” she cooed happily. Grizelda eyed Loric coyly, inviting him to look into the ball.

Loric peered in and saw the foggy surface of the glass begin to clear away. It was replaced by an overhead view of Aurelia’s slim form, shaded gracefully by a large Yew tree. He watched with interest as the witch concentrated her hand and eye movements to pan the view around Aurelia. The image zoomed closer and circled in for a close up of her sultry pale blue eyes.

“She thinks of one who has taken her heart recently… The girl’s affections bullied through old, unhealthy veils to become counted. He now fills her thoughts.” whispered Grizelda. “Oh! Tis you Loric!” she smirked. “and a bard as well!” continued the witch with a coy smile. “She is becoming devoted...your words could raise or crush her spirits depending on how they were spoken.” gloated the hag.

Loric shifted a bit uncomfortably. “You can read her thoughts as well! How can this be? Is there no protection from this?” Loric was becoming a bit irritated with the witches’ reading.

Grizelda ignored his discomfort and swung the view to magnify a small scar on the bottom of Aurelia’s chin. She spoke in the ball quietly…’scar on chin.’ The view ran back up to Aurelia’s eyes and forehead as the suggestion was processed. “Ahh. The scar was an accident. A friend…while practicing swordplay.” added the scryer with a sheepish smile. “Yes is your answer. If I combine clairvoyance and clairaudience along with esp, I can get a clear picture of thought and emotion. As for protection, there are ways to hide from the process. Though you would have to know the intrusion was coming and prepare for it ahead of time. Your girl here is very good…she is beginning to sense my probe already. Very strong indeed.”

“Stop! That’s enough reading on Aurelia.” Loric’s voice was firm. “You have proved your worth.”

The witch curved her ruby colored lips into a satisfied smirk and tapped the crystal. Her eyes lightened as the ball went dark.

“Another question.” asked the bard. “Can this killer, being a mage, know he’s being probed?”

Grizelda, while carefully rewrapping the crystal answered cooperatively. “Oh yes. If he’s good like your girl, and you probe long enough he will feel it alright. He could then start taking counter measures to blind your eye. So, what is the answer for one such as him?” Her eyes flashed as she made short jabbing motions with her fist. “Quick, short probes! Take a quick picture…then later…another…and so on…and so forth. Never stay too long…but long enough to get a piece of the total view. Soon, you will know where he hides and can plan his demise.”

Loric listened to this logical approach and it made good sense to him. It was now only a matter of starting the process. Up to this point, the bard had no reason to think the witch anything else but a concerned citizen interested in the capture of a horrid murderer.

But then she said something after Loric suggested she begin the procedure… It was something that raised a huge red flag in his head. Her words compelled him to wonder if the hag had a personal agenda running parallel to his own. He would store this concern for now, but he would definitely raise his alertness level a notch toward this one….

….For some unknown reason… Grizelda the Witch…had already started the process.
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PostPosted: Fri Oct 19, 2012 1:28 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The blond bard Loric Syntel stood on the edge of the swaying dock staring out into the swirling waters surrounding Britain. His scattered thoughts churned in much the same way as the flowing sea that rubbed against the aging wooden structure. In some ways he was feeling as old as the sun bleached planks he stood upon. His blue eyes were tired and red from lack of sleep since the fiery dreams started invading his slumber a couple of weeks back. They hadn’t stopped.

As Loric summed up what was on his plate, he considered how annoyingly complex the current situation had become. He wondered if there was anything simple left in the world. Every turn on this crooked path was becoming more bizarre and less transparent. He knew the nightmares were undermining his patience as well as his rest. They were wearing him out. The word 'retirement' had found its way into his vocabulary with ever increasing frequency.

The deranged murderer was still somewhere out there on the loose. The witch Grizelda, with her own possible agenda, was still a few days away from scrying out Norris' location in a delicate procedure. And if a murderous mage and repetitive dreams of blazing death weren't enough to occupy him, now he had gypsies to think about, and apparently, another witch. ‘Lucky me’ he thought sarcastically.

Thrade Arnimane, a self-proclaimed gypsy witch, appeared in Ashencrosse two days ago. She stood quietly under a tree near the burnt out ruin of a house. Aurelia approached her curiously to find out her business and was shocked when hearing she was there to find a man who shared her dreams of fire. After scooting her off to a secluded stable, Aurelia summoned Loric to her side.

Thrade was an attractive woman with coal black hair and very unique pale violet eyes. She wore a long, blue and purple flowing robe and had what looked like a dark sapphire locket around her neck. She spoke with an accent as she described the fire dreams as a warning from the 'Light of God’ to them all.

The bard determined she was part of a gypsy camp presently sitting in a Minoc grove. Loric tested her with many questions before he concluded that she spoke the truth....the dreams were exact...and she saw all the same players that he did. Thrade raised the possibility that she and Loric's fate may be intertwined, along with a 'landen' mage. This heightened Boston's curiosity even further when he realized she referred to the Rose Killer as the ‘landen'. Loric glanced at Aurelia when Thrade mentioned his and her life being 'intertwined'. He amusedly noted how his associate's light blue eyes squinted in an apparent passing desire to run her through now...to save time of course.

"I have business to attend over the next two days," Loric said, "and then we shall meet again at your camp and compare what we have seen once more."

The bard wanted time to learn more about the gypsies....especially gypsy witches. Thrade let them know where she could be found and they parted ways.

After the gypsy left, Loric spoke with Aurelia to get her impressions. As he expected, she was suspicious and noted that she felt her mind had been intruded upon by the witch. Loric also felt a light sensation to the inside of his head but, until they knew more of the ways of gypsy witches and common practices among them, they would reserve judgment.

The wind of the bay picked up a bit causing the bard to pull his black cloak tighter to his chest. He exchanged glances with a gull that had landed on one of the dock pillars near him.

Loric recalled asking Rye if the gypsy girl Alisiea might shed some light on this subject. The ranger deferred asking her as she was in a crisis of her own. Rye felt she had enough to think about being with child and possibly facing a demon cursed birth. Rye and Genevieve accompanied Judas and his group on a harrowing journey in search of answers for the lass. Loric accepted Rye’s judgment and moved on to his original choice, a visit to a gypsy camp.

A trace of a smile appeared on the bard's face as he recalled the recent event. It was quite a memorable and pleasant experience. He and Aurelia seemed to be welcomed immediately upon arrival...as if they all somehow expected the pair. Music and song were exchanged happily along with much dancing and food. Wine flowed freely and the energy was high! These were a people who seemed to embrace the simple pleasures of living. The bard and the countess sang and celebrated with great vigor and, as the night wore on, they both started to feel like gypsys themselves. And they danced…Oh how they danced! Aurelia’s colorful skirt swung in such graceful patterns that she took his breath away. She looked so happy and worry free. Retirement once again seeped into his consciousness. But as always, he had business to remember and knew it would soon have to rear its ugly head.

They sat next to a colorfully dressed man named Armand and became friendly. As the night settled down and the camp quieted, Loric, Aurelia and Armand conversed well into the wee hours of the morning.

Thrade was of old blood and revered by the tribe as a direct descendant of the Avatar himself. He pointed out her wagon in its place of honor in the center of the camp. The Gypsy Witch possessed magic handed down through the generations. Armand said that Thrade could harness hidden power found in the natural items of the land itself. The Gypsy Witch had chosen to manipulate gems, such as the sapphire she wore around her neck. The darker the gem, the more power it wielded to her... as well as expended from her. The power itself came directly from bearing the blood of the Avatar according to Armand.

The gypsy witch also had the ability to get a 'feel' for a person by performing a soft, noninvasive probe to their mind. It was a commonly performed ritual that was administered with controlled gentleness. Armand said it was merely to get a 'wind chill' from one she wanted to know. Thrade was highly respected and she and the gypsies kept much to themselves. The "landen' term was merely a reference to those 'not of the gypsy'. He also learned she was, in general, very powerful...much more talented than 'landen' mages. This made him grateful she had no political aspirations, as he was sure she could make for a formidable enemy.

Aurelia would just have to wait to gut this woman... for Loric's gut said she was an ally....but he was not altogether sure yet.

Loric was not certain of much right now, except Aurelia, who was as consistent as the day he met her....and of course Sunny and his inner group of allies. Everything else on this case seemed to swirl grey and unfocused, forcing him to interpret constantly...using a judgment that he was beginning to lose faith in.

Loric let out a long sigh just as the gull next to him suddenly realized he wasn't a fishwife. It cried shrilly and flapped its great wings. Loric watched its graceful ascent into the cool morning air. And, as he followed the bird’s freeing fight to some fresh, new calling, he felt arrowed with a slight pang of jealousy...
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PostPosted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 11:29 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Six pair of eyes looked warily toward the condemned warehouse in the dock district of Jhelom. Their faces wore determined looks as they moved into position to execute the plan to bring a killer to justice. The Reeves agent Loric Syntel had gotten word from the hag Grizelda that her scrying had pinpointed this dilapidated structure as the present home of the murderer known as the Rose Killer. This deranged monster had left a trail of sixteen dead and mutilated women behind him. Today, at long last, it was time to pay the piper.

“Sunny, take position at the back door.” instructed the blond bard. “Cat will stay at the front door. We four shall go in and try to surprise him. If he slips by us, he will no doubt bolt for the doors.” Loric paused for a moment and looked at the capable Cat and Sunny with seriousness. “I remind you he is not helpless and he is adept with magic. Use whatever force is necessary to bring him down.”

Sunny grinned at Cat, who held a massive club. Cat had been without her basher when she last encountered the lunatic. If he came her way this time, the result would be far different.

Loric turned to the other three. All were deadly in their own special way. His partner Aurelia was a calming influence who was strong, and alert. Rye Lockman was stealthy and accurate with a bow. Genevieve was deadly with sword as well as cool under pressure.

Loric has mixed feelings on not having the time to send for Thrade the gypsy witch. He could not discern her positively as friend or foe. As it turned out, the suddenness of the discovery left him no time to fetch her anyway. The bard couldn’t afford to let the killer slip away before they got there.

“Alright we move as team. Rye will stay the left, Genevieve on the right. Aurelia and I will take the middle.” reminded Loric. “Remember we are trying to surprise and flush him out into the light before he can protect himself with magic. If he starts to cast instead of run, we surround and take him fast!” All three nodded silently and exchanged firm glances. Loric took a deep breath. “Let’s move then.”

Sunny slipped off to the back while Cat quietly opened the wooden front door to let the four inside. She closed it again as instructed as to let in little light to reveal the intruders. She then took position by the door and waited in readiness.

It was dark inside the structure, save the thin beams of sunlight that found their way through the small holes and blemishes that adorned the old walls and ceiling. The interior reeked of rotting fish and dead rat. Rye blinked away into the shadow while the others in the line walked slowly and carefully over broken furniture and cracked floorboards. The four were almost to the center of the large space when they all heard the creak at once and stopped. All their eyes were drawn to the sound that originated from the large wooden support pillar in the center of the building.

Out stepped the Rose Killer…and he was lit up like a mage in full regalia. Small, eye shaped lights swirled around his head. A rough, rocklike covering was intact about his skin. Strange symbols of light floated in a circular pattern around his body. He stared right at them as a smile crusted through his stone covered face. Loric sickeningly accepted that he knew they were coming.

Not taking an eye off the killer, all four bared their prospective weapons in unison. A couple of the blades glowed eerily in the ill lit space. An arrow bounced harmlessly off the protected skin of the mage. The murderer stared hatefully at them, until his gaze moved slightly to his right. The four all picked up on this and three took a quick glance to their left. Genevieve’s eyes remain locked onto the monster.

There she stood… squinting at them… with a large black red eyed hound at her side breathing steam. It was Thrade, the gypsy witch.

Loric couldn’t know what she was doing as she just stood staring at the four of them. But when her eyes suddenly rolled into her head and the sapphire around her neck began to glow darkly, he knew. She was calling something from the darkness!....And that’s when hell was suddenly unleashed…

Outside, the city streets, people rushed about and conducted their daily business. Few noticed the dark clouds that gathered over the docks district. This was until the rumbles began to sound from them. The townspeople were then treated to a fireworks display of sorts as tiny bits of light began dropping from the sky. As the lighted bits drew closer, they grew is size. They became large flaming boulders, emitting a chilling wail as they screamed downward. The small meteors sliced though the building like it was paper. The huge explosions they produced on impact were terrifying. At first, there was panic, until the town’s population realized that all the strange fireballs were targeting only the old warehouse in the docks.

Cat heard the explosion just about the same time she was hurled ten feet into a small fountain. She hissed and was about to complain how she hated water, when the door she was guarding flew by narrowly missing her head. She unsteadily walked back to the open frame that was the front door and saw the flames. The fire inside was so hot that the metal chains hanging on the outside walls were melting. Smoldering rats were escaping from every crevasse…running for someplace cool and dark again. Cat correctly surmised that no one was coming out this entrance and quickly ran to the back.

When the back door blew from its hinges, Sunny was luckily to the side of it. It became a heavy projectile that flew across the road and severed one of the dock poles. Sunny looked into the gaping hole left by the door and saw fire. The intense heat caused her to back away and cover her face. Her hair was singed badly and she couldn’t see for an instant. She felt a hand steadying her and saw Cat though squinted eyes.

“How’s the front?” They get out?” screamed Sunny worriedly.

Cat’s sick expression answered the question as she sadly lowered her eyes.

“Dammit!” cried the Halfling, hurling her little helmet toward the water. “What the hell happened?” She sat down with her hands on her head.

Cat grabbed her arm and pointed up at the oncoming heavenly barrage. Both their eyes widened as they ran for cover. When safely behind an old wagon a short distance away, both stared in shock and horror as flaming explosions engulfed the whole building. Cat was still maintained optimism that the four could somehow escape.

“They might be able to still get out.” She uttered hopefully.

The hope she displayed was suddenly crushed, as the roof creaked and collapsed in on itself.

“Well…maybe not…” Cat uttered with voice trailing.

Sunny wailed and hid her head onto Cat’s shoulder.

And so it was to pass…one this fateful day…the old city-condemned warehouse was finally demolished…and without one city worker having to lift a finger….
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 12:32 am Post subject: Reply with quote

‘Rats!? He used rats!’ thought the blond Reever as he lowered himself to the floor to temporarily evade the poisonous smoke that had already begun to overwhelm he and his companions. Loric, Aurelia, Genevieve and Rye had all walked into a clever trap laid by the devious serial killer. The murderer had set fire traps all through the building and somehow controlled the resident rodents to conveniently step into the right spots to trigger them. This quickly created a firestorm that surrounded the four in a death grip of flame and heat.

Loric could hear the killer’s gloating laughter and strained his eyes through the smoke to catch a glimpse of the fiend’s magically protected outline. Anger built up inside of the bard as he accepted the fact they were going to perish as his dreams had predicted. But he would give the killer something to remember them by. The mage's guard was split between a rat he was trying to control and the sudden appearance of the Gypsy Witch. He wasn’t expecting anything more from the group on the floor, allowing Loric one chance for vengeance.

“Non protectare!” Loric spat the words toward the rose killer with all the spite he could muster. He performed a small gesture with his hands before pointing toward the monster. The phrase exited his mouth as a painfully off-key sound that sliced through the fire and smoke. It resembled a wave of distorted, blue light as it snaked toward the mage and hit him square in the chest.

The killer looked down and could only watch in shock as the magic spread like a small electrical charge all around his body. His defenses were melting away, causing him to feel the same heat as the rest of the victims. The mage yelled an unholy curse as he witnessed one of the rats scurrying toward a spot on the floor close to him. He tried in vain to misdirect the rodent but was too late. His scream was lost in the ensuing explosion as the rat triggered the trap. The man was ablaze and ran around flailing his arms wildly.

Loric felt a least a bit of satisfaction in seeing the killer suffer as they themselves were. The bard dropped to the floor and huddled with the others, covering them with his cloak. His eyes must have been full of smoke for he thought he saw a face void of features when the mage’s protections fell off. Loric had little time to consider it as small flaming rocks began to land around them. The floor was disintegrating and being replaced by smoldering craters. Loric deemed this was overkill by the mage to call down meteors, but concluded the killer always fancied himself as a showman.

Rye was unconscious…or dead…Genevieve sat gasping…her eyes closing slowly. Aurelia lay next to him with her arm draped over his shoulder. He could see her pale blue eyes still sparkled with life. She seemed unafraid, and smiled in spite of her effort to find air. They lay face to face on their sides knowing soon they would go to a better place. Loric was grateful hers would be the last image he would take with him. The bard returned her smile and closed his eyes... just as the roof collapsed.

Loric thought he must be dead when he felt wetness on his cheek. He opened one ocular and saw a large black hound with red eyes licking his face. The canine had a dark red jewel set in a collar around its neck. It pulsated similar to the Gypsy Witch’s gem. The bard then smelled cool, fresh, sweet air. Both eyes flipped open in curiosity. He was looking at a pair of sandaled feet standing next to him. His eyes followed the feet and legs up till he saw the glowing form of Thrade the Gypsy Witch.

She stood deathly still. Her eyes were rolled somewhere in her head. Her graceful arms were outstretched as some unseen wind rippled through her flowing robes bestowing breathable air to the dying four. Thrade had created some sort of umbrella around them; a life-giving cocoon of light and air that acted as a perfect haven. Loric could see though the shimmering shell enough to know the firestorm still raged beyond the veil. The muffled impacts of the meteors glanced away from the barrier, protecting them from the chaos that rained outside.

Loric shook Aurelia who opened her eyes and sat up with the same amazed expression that the bard wore. Genevieve had awakened a few seconds earlier and was reviving Rye, who rubbed his head extremely disoriented. The dog whimpered and ran around them excitedly. Loric got a hold of his wits and, after quickly taking a stock of their position, realized they had to move fast.

There was no doubt in his mind now... Their sudden, miraculous reprieve was about to come crashing down...as it became frightfully clear to him… that Thrade, the Gypsy witch… was dying…


Last edited by Loric on Tue Aug 13, 2013 4:06 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:17 am Post subject: Reply with quote

“Out of the fire … when all else burned…walked Hope in all its glory.’ …from a song by Bardess Lenore.


The abandoned warehouse finally surrendered its soul in a huge fiery collapse. There was a snap of breaking timbers as the structure entered into its final death throe. Then it imploded on itself and gave up the ghost with one last creaking sigh. A new mushroom of smoke grew from its fall and covered the docks in its sooty veil. Even the sharpest eyes would fail to penetrate its mass until the harbor’s breeze could inhale it out to sea.

Outside of the black fog, the graceful feline, Cat Lynxen, hugged the diminutive Sunny Snowdowns. They both were sadly trying to accept the inevitable result of such a disastrous turn of events. Tears fell freely through the smoke and shock. Cat was trying to console the Halfling whose eyes wordlessly screamed ‘Why?’ She realized there were no words that could ease the sudden pain encompassing the girl. So she just hugged her with her own shoulders shaking.

They both sat looking at the docks in shocked and grieving disbelief. Cat held her head and rocked slightly back and forth on the grass carpet.

“Why?” wailed Sunny. “Cat? Why? Why? WHY?” Sunny beat on Cat’s shoulder with some warped hope that it would change things. Cat wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl, while looking up at the sky asking the same question.

Then Cat’s sharp vision picked up something in the dimness surrounding the building’s fired carcass.

“What’s that?” she whispered to herself. Her eyes squinted to see better the mirage below. “Look Sunny…What is that?” She tapped the Halfling and pointed toward the din.

They both witnessed some shadowy figures emerging from the dark chaos that was once the warehouse. Sudden hope, coupled with disbelief, flooded them as they now could see the smoky outlines of their companions walking out of the mist. Their shock now ran in reverse and held them breathless and immobile. Tears of a different kind fell as sadness transformed into joy in one, glorious split second.

Loric carefully cradled the Witch in his arms as the group moved slowly toward the street and out of the debris. The protective shield followed along but it was evident to the bard that the jewel was waning. He remembered Armand’s warning; ‘The darker the gem, the more power it wielded to her... as well as expended from her.’ If it died completely, the Witch would follow.

The Reever picked up the pace a bit with the rest of the group huddled together, walking under her protective hood. Aurelia walked close to Loric in case she could help comfort the Gypsy Witch who bravely continued to maintain her merciful act of sacrifice. Genevieve walked with an arm steadying Rye as he limped along still suffering smoke inhalation. The dark hound whimpered worriedly for its master but seemed to know the others posed no threat. Loric thought he detected the stone worn around the dog’s neck supplementing the sapphire owned by Thrade. But he wasn’t sure; He wasn’t sure of much these days.

When they were finally out of the range of the heat and smoke, Loric gently laid the Witch down in the cool grass. He whispered softly into her ear. Thrade’s tired eyes focused on him as her waning gem stopped glowing with dark magic. The shield faded away with a flash.

“Safe now?” she whispered with curious concern

“Safe.” Loric returned gratefully. “Thanks to you we are delivered.”

She smiled weakly and closed her eyes. The hound whimpered again as a huge shadow loomed over them. Loric looked up to see a large dark man with impressive black wings that spanned at least 12 feet. The emerging sunlight back lit the Eyrian , making him seem all the more dreamlike and surreal. The bard noticed a sapphire around the rugged looking neck of the being. Muscular arms gently took the Gypsy’s unconscious form with obvious care and affection. The winged humanoid flashed Loric a jealously guarded look that might have killed a man with a weaker heart. He then took to the sky, leaving nothing but a breeze in his wake. The hound faded and disappeared, like it never existed. Loric uttered prayer that Thrade would be alright. Four lives were owed to her courage.

Armand, the colorfully dressed gypsy, stood close by and wore a satisfied grin. Loric rose and slowly approached him.

“She saved us Armand. “said the bard. “You knew she was coming here?”

“Knew?” By the bells, I brought her!” announced the man. “It seems she has a better ride home.” Armand seemed relieved.

“How did she know? And why would she take such a risk to save us?” queried the Bard curiously.

Armand stared up at the sky shielding his eyes as the Eyrian grew smaller. “God works in mysterious ways my friend. But sometimes, He is not hard to understand.” explained the mustached gypsy man. “It was prophesized many years before that the Gyspy Witch would die by the hand of ‘The Rose without Thorn.’ The dreams were sent as a means to find you…and assist you in the termination of her murderer.” Armand paused looking at Loric steadily. “It was not to save you Reever, but to save herself...She was to be his future victim.”

The bard looked at Armand quietly processing the twist of information before speaking earnestly.

“Will she be alright?” Loric asked with concern.

“Oh yes! She will! Rest and care from God’s winged servant will see to this.” Armand spoke confidently. “This was also foretold.”

Loric took both the man’s shoulders facing him. “Tell her that whatever her reasons were…I…we…are grateful.”

“It will be as you wish my friend!” Armand smiled and bowed slightly before departing toward the moongate.

Aurelia smiled at Loric and pointed up the hill. She moved closer to him wrapping her arm with his as they watched Sunny and Cat come barreling toward them with ear to ear grins. Genevieve smiled warmly when she saw Sunny. Rye managed a smile as well, in between a few smoky coughs.

There was quite a celebration when the collision of relieved friends and associates occurred. And any citizens who may have witnessed this joyous reunion, might have found it peculiar why six, soot covered adults could have so much fun rolling around in the dew covered grass…laughing like children.


Last edited by Loric on Sat Nov 09, 2013 5:16 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Loric
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 7:37 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

The day broke with more pleasantry than the bard Loric Syntel remembered over the past few months. He woke refreshed as the horrid fire dream had ceased. The Rose Killer was no more and the Gypsy Witch Thrade had survived her harrowing rescue of the four trapped companions. They would certainly have perished without her intervention. The bard would be forever grateful.

Loric found it ironic that, by risking herself to save them, she also preserved her own life. The Gem of the Avatar, her source of power, had revealed her as one of the Rose Killer’s future victims. Through dreams, it was made possible for her to aid the ones who would end the murderer’s spree of violence.

Loric eyed Aurelia playing a lovely tune at the theater piano. They exchanged warm smiles knowing they both had much to be thankful for. Sunny, his Halfling ward, sat at a table explaining to an amused Genevieve the amazing healing benefits of syrup on sausages. Rye went back to the Yew woods to do a bit of hunting before tackling the ‘pirate issue’ again.

A bit of suspicion arrowed though the bard when the image of the hag popped into his mind. She claimed it would take many small attempts to scry out the murderer unnoticed, yet he was ready for them. Grizelda dismissed the concern with the explanation that the killer must have set up wards to detect intrusions; a fact she conveniently neglected to bring up when the plan was discussed.

“How forgetful of her.’ thought Loric with more than a bit of sarcasm. He also questioned whether or not the Killer had the power conjure meteors and, at the same time, wondered if the hag was capable of such. And what about the image of the man with no face... like some doppelganger in the flames? Did he see true? Or was it the smoke?

Loric rubbed his temples and willed himself to stop. ‘It’s over,” he reassured, quelling his own doubt. ‘And time to move on.’ He would now count his blessings and chalk up these unsettling thoughts to old, suspicious habits.

Amid the pleasant morning activity, his hand idly felt for the sealed orders that were delivered from Boston. They still sat unopened in his pocket. Loric knew they would involve such things and pirates, monks and mysterious cults. He considered opening them for a moment but paused. The bard was in no hurry to resume work on this morning. He decided it would be prudent to take a couple of days to enjoy what had been so graciously bestowed on him.

He was, after all, certain that the pirates weren’t going anywhere.
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Loric
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 12:19 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The sleek trading vessel "Whydah' bullied its way south through furious headwinds determined to send the ship back north or to a watery grave. Rain and wind battered and howled at the seasoned crew, who worked feverishly to keep the vessel tacking toward its ominous destination. Lightning cracked down to illuminate the tiller man, who was tied to the wheel trying to navigate the angry valleys formed by swelling waves. Those men not on duty secured themselves to their cots below and prayed that the hull would hold.

"Steady as she goes helmsman!" yelled the leather-clad Captain Davis Moore to his navigator. His voice could barely be heard over the wind's fury, even though he stood next to his crewman. Moore elaborated the command with a finger pointed forward. The storm had blacked out the stars this eve, making the job of staying on course difficult. Davis was a good Captain and had weathered storms before, but both he and helmsman knew they were now sailing purely by the seat of their pants.

The Captain cursed under his breath and held onto the rail as another cold wave tried to wash him away. Why had he agreed to sail to Fire Isle? No one sails there...it is a cursed place... A mountainous volcano at the end of the world shrouded in shadows and occupied by demons and worse. Greed came to mind....Yes...That was it!...It was greed that motivated him.

The Captain’s thoughts turned to Kate Cervantes, the woman he loved. He memorized the note she had left him before he left on this voyage. The letter was lying on a very expensive handmade set of leathers. They fit like a glove and felt like a second skin.

He remembered fondly the first time he met her. She was in the ‘business’ as well… shipping questionable cargo of any kind if the price matched the risk. They were both competing for a job delivering rare stolen rum to a duke in Magincia. His first mate informed him that she demanded to duel for the rights to the commission. Davis agreed, dismissing her as a weaker fencer than himself. After all, he had professional training being raised in a noble family. He had never met her and was curious to meet a female that had the gumption to challenge him. When she appeared at the designated spot, Davis knew right then and there he was in trouble.

Some say love is touching souls. Well, she touched his at hello. She exceeded his mind’s eye definition of perfect. She had reddish hair, light and long, that framed a lovely, determined face. Her features were delicate, her lips full, and her green eyes sparkled. He thought he was smitten when she quickly disarmed him with her rapier, but he was sure when she disarmed him again with her smile.

He didn't believe in love at first sight. This lifelong policy only reinforced the reality of his plight; for he hadn't felt this strong of a connection before nor after. Davis would never tell her, for fear she would dismiss him from her presence. Over the years they interacted from time to time in work and play. Davis believed she never guessed the extent of his affection. He thought she liked him as a casual friend and lover but couldn’t know that she lived in his skin. She existed deep inside him, intertwined with his very essence. He never looked at another woman in that way again. Even when her ship went down and she was missing for 5 years, he never lost the yearning.

She appeared last week looking for information from him. Her new ship had tailed his to Ice Island and while the ‘Whydah’ was being scraped, she found him. They went to a cottage he was staying at on Horseshoe Isle. Once there, he shared with her the voyage to the small south east isle, the kerf weed cargo, and the insidious man who made his hair stand on end.

Davis Moore also bared his soul about how he felt about her. He related his five year search for her when her ship went down… and his disappointment in not finding her. Davis feared he wouldn’t return from this trip and wanted her to know what a miracle she had been to him all these years. It turned out better than he expected. Kate didn’t send him off…she loved him. Now he almost regretted agreeing to one last journey for this clandestine outfit.

When the kerf was delivered to the warehouse in Britain, the strange man behind the curtain offered him a small fortune to sail to this horrid place. When he balked, the man doubled the offer, making it impossible for him to refuse. Moore would only have to pick up a small cargo and return, allowing him to load the 'Whydah's' hold with some cheap wine to make a bit more profit.

He chose to sail through the 'Straights of Woe' instead of anchoring and taking the long route overland. This would cut off two weeks time...if he survived. He was one of the few captains who ever safely negotiated the stormy, rock-filled, treacherous pass. Most crews refused to go there, but his reputation allowed him the luxury of some seasoned veterans.

Davis had reservations of working again for the man in the warehouse. The last trip to gather a kerf shipment led to some unfortunate abuse to some of the natives. The man seemed to dismiss this as business as usual, but the Captain's distaste was quickly soothed by the obscene amount of gold offered for the trip. He made up his mind though...this would be his last for this man...There was something sinister about him...and dangerous.

The instructions were also a bit obscure and questionable. He was shown a map to a hidden cove to load a cargo of some strange ore. The man had said to make sure the rock was black as night before accepting it, and mentioned there would be 'penalties' for lack of discretion. What those penalties were Davis didn't ask, but believed them dire.

There was something important about this cargo...something the captain didn't want to know about. All he cared about was getting the load with the curious name back to Britain as quickly as possible. He had shipped ore before...but never had he carried a hold full of some secret rock they called "Eborium.” He knew it as something else…called high grade Blackrock.


Last edited by Loric on Tue Aug 13, 2013 4:11 pm; edited 1 time in total
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