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Post by moralhazard on Apr 26, 2019 20:47:27 GMT
Yartar, 1488
“You’ve got to be kidding!” The roar was loud enough to fill the entire yard outside of the inn. The man yelling was nearly as large, a hulking, intimidating figure, with darkly tanned skin and a thick beard. Kara looked up from the piece of armor she was polishing, then back down, carefully buffing it over and over with a cloth. “HER?” This time, the yell was accompanied by a point, a thickly muscled arm which snapped out a finger towards Kara. “She’s our reinforcements? Marly, you’d better be having me on. We need real guards to help bring this caravan back to Everlund, not - whatever that’s meant to be. How did you even get armor to fit her?” Kara glanced up again, then back down, still ignoring the man. She lifted the cloth from the breastplate and, content, stored the armor with the rest of it, her packs resting with the rest of the Freewolves’ gear. Marly was grinning, as were the two other men he’d brought with him from Everlund to Yartar. The other three they’d met at the inn were not; one as muttering complaints along with their companion, the other two evidently content to mind their own business. Marly tugged at his own beard. “Ringer, you tired from the journey?” “No sir,” Kara rose, turning back to Marly and the large man next to him. Marly nodded. He grinned. “Well, Stacron, I’ve an idea. You beat Ringer, and she’s out – we’ll send her back to Everlund alone.” “I – “ Stacron paused, looking at Marly. He scowled, a heavy expression. “What, fight her?” He gestured at Kara again, not looking at her. “I’d squash her like a bug!” Marly shrugged. “I’ll sweeten the pot. Ten gold pieces, if you win. The same to me if you lose.” Stacron tugged at his beard, glancing back at Kara, then back at Marly. Whatever chivalrous hesitation he’d had seemed to vanish. “Deal!” He scooped up a heavy axe, hoisting it with one hand, and slapping the other end of the shaft into his free hand. “But don’t blame me if she can’t walk back.” Marly smiled. “You, Horund?” He asked the other grumbling man. “Want in on the bet? Five gold pieces, if you’d like.” Horund snorted. “You must be made of money these days, Marly. That promotion’s gone to your head.” He eyed Kara, then nodded. “Well enough. I accept.” “Anyone else?” Marly raised an eyebrow. The rest of the men murmured; those who’d come with Kara bet on her, and, although with decreasing confidence, the rest bet against her. Marly turned to Kara, smiling. “Ringer, you agree?” “Yes sir,” Kara crouched down next to the packs again and emerged with her glaive in hand. It was a huge weapon, longer than she was tall, like a quarterstaff with a sword mounted on the end. It looked too heavy for her to lift, but she handed it with a practiced ease, holding it one-handed as she stepped into the open space in the middle of the yard. Now Stacron had an uncomfortable look on his face; for a moment something akin to regret flickered through his eyes, but it was swept away quickly enough by his own confidence. Horund snorted. “Big weapon for a little girl,” he said, his eyes lingering uncomfortably on Kara. Kara ignored him, and ignored everything else as well; her world narrowed to Stacron as he stepped forward. “Terms are these,” Marly said. He grabbed a sword and scratched lines in the dusty yard, making a large square around Kara and Stacron. “If you yield, you lose. If you can’t get up, you lose. If you cross these lines, you lose. If you can’t work, you’ll be left here tomorrow. Understood?” There was a crisp snap to his voice. “Yes sir,” Kara said, hands tightening on her weapon. Armorless, she stepped into the ring, her copper boots already dusty from the long day’s walk. “Yes sir,” Stacron put an unpleasant twist on the sir, entering the ring as well. He wore no more armor than Kara did, his own half-plate stacked with the rest of the packs. Stacron lunged forward first, drawing his axe back to swing it. Kara nipped in with her blade the moment he was close enough, opening a sharp red line across his chest. As always, when she fought, the world narrowed to nothing more than the fight before her; fear and doubt and pain fell away, the memories of the long hard walk nothing but memories. There was only the fight; it filled her mind and her being. “The hell – “ Stacron closed in and swung – and missed, Kara’s shift to the side enough to dodge the axe. Kara swung the glaive again, opening a second long red line along Stacron’s arm. He roared in pain, but kept a old on his weapon – barely. She didn’t hesitate, swinging up the butt of the weapon and slamming it firmly into the hard muscle of his inner thigh, missing his groin by inches. There was a roar from the men watching. Stacron’s face went an ugly white-red color, and he lunged in again. The edge of the axe caught Kara on the shoulder – a small cut, but hard enough to send her staggering back. She didn’t hesitate to close again; this time she caught the glaive with both hands and shoved it against Stacron’s chest. It looked ridiculous – Kara was a foot and a half shorter than him, and he had to be double her weight if not more – but Stacron stumbled back, eyes wide. Kara gripped the glaive again, and took a half step back, reassessing her position. She wore a black undershirt, a black tunic and black leggings; cloth was wrapped up and down her arms like bandages. Now, a careful observer could see how hard and muscular her arms were beneath the wrappings, the way they bulged and strained against even those slight confines. Stacron spat on the ground. “You little bitch,” he closed again. Kara struck again as he entered her range, the blade of her weapon crossing his chest again. Stacron grunted in pain, stumbling slightly, and lunged for her with his axe – another miss. Kara hit him again, this time knocking him to the ground. He swung at her, and Kara dodged, out then in, and pressed the point of the blade to his throat, standing over him and staring down, the sharp metal digging in. Stacron swallowed, hard, and the pressure opened up a razor thin line of blood along his throat. “Yield,” Stacron grunted. Kara pulled the weapon back. She was vaguely aware of cheering from the two men who’d accompanied her. Blood rushed in her ears. She rotated her injured shoulder, once, and decided it was fine. With a last glance at Stacron, who was sitting up slowly and groaning faintly with pain, Kara turned and left the ring behind, ignoring Marly’s chuckles, and the stare of hatred from Stacron, and the clinking sounds of coins changing hands. |
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Post by Ossular on May 1, 2019 12:54:21 GMT
It was some nameless inn in Yartar that caught Orin's attention. Not the inn itself, no, but the shouts and yelling that were happening as they neared it. At the proclamation that a large man would "squash her like a bug," two more people would round the corner. The first an elvish woman with green eyes of emerald, blond hair that wafted in a breeze, scars that traced down her left temple and a curious look on her face as she came to a rickety fence that divided the yard from the alleyway they were in. Her armored frame leaned against the fence lightly, watching through the people at the scene unfolding.
The second was a human man wearing a long coat that covered leather armor. With shaggy sandy brown hair, a smirk that was almost permanently curled on his lips and a thunder cannon strapped to his back- a firearm almost five feet in length with a barrel the size of a small tree in diameter that he lovingly called "Bad News-" he kept walking, carrying on whatever nondescript one-sided conversation he had maintained for hours until this point.
The man would move forward a couple more steps, then stop, turning around to see the elvish woman trying to investigate what was about to happen. He would also look back and forth, but he didnt seem as interested as the elf was. Moving back to her, he'd talk above the crowd. "We should probably get you inside so you can rest. Got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Should probably get some sleep, babe."
"We've had big days ahead of us for the last couple of weeks, Darious," Orin would answer, not looking over to the human. "Besides, I'm curious as to what's going on. Look at her," the elf would motion with her head. "The weapon's taller than she is."
"Probably good for dancing and entertaining the guys," Darious would remark, disinterested. "You've seen one fight, you've seen them all. Come on, I'm hungry."
Orin would stop, a weird feeling washing over her for a brief moment, but then it was gone. "Then go order food. I'll be inside in a moment," she would finally look over him, and he would look back. "Or just, like, go clean your gun or something?"
"We both know that's easier with two people," Darious' lips would press into a flat smirk as he exhaled, resigning to not leaving without her. Orin would roll her eyes, turning her attention back to the fight that was about to unfold. The human gunslinger would wait until the fight was over, and the elvish woman had definitely been more into it at the end, smiling and giving a little clap as the man yielded. She wasn't sure what they had been fighting for, but the eladrin enjoyed the display of skill and power. There was something about seeing someone so small wield a weapon so big and handle it with that much practice and authority.
Darious, of course, had been more interested on other things. "We good? I'm getting pretty tired. We should hit the hay and get an early start tomorrow." Another offer that gave Orin a weird feeling, but washed over her once again as she looked Darious over. He wasn't giving off any kind of somatic or material component, and even if he did know spells, why would he be using them on her?
As Stacron sat up, Orin would motion that she was ready, with Darious turning and leading the way into the inn that they had been outside of eagerly.
It was a simple rustic place, dirty here and there with spots and stains that weren't leaving without the effective use of a fireball spell. A simple bar on the back end with two or three kegs in the wall provided most of the alcohol, and Orin would move to one of the seats at the bar itself, with Darious sitting on her left. It was lit with a variety of sconces on the wall, flames burning through the open room, crackling here and there at each time the door opened, dancing back and forth and causing the shadows to dance slightly.
The barkeep, an older human man with rolled up sleeves and oily hair, would move toward them, taking their order as the eladrin looked at the human for a moment. There was a bit of unconscious apprehension as Darious preemptively ordered two drinks, even though she didn't want one, mixed in with the fact that he had also ordered the stew for the both of them.
"Darious?" Orin would raise an eyebrow. "I can order for mysel-"
"It's fine, babe. I know what you like," Darious would proclaim, his rifle propped up on the side of the bar between them. "Besides, it's not like the place has much to offer outside of bed to share."
"You... do realize I don't actually sleep, right?" Orin would ask, perking up an eyebrow.
"I didn't say anything about sleeping, darling," Darious would wink, and Orin would faintly half-smile before looking the other way, right as the drinks were set down in front of Darious.
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Post by moralhazard on May 1, 2019 14:53:05 GMT
“Come on, Ringer!” The door to the front of the inn banged open, and six of the mercenaries entered: the two who had bet on Kara, Kara herself between them, and behind the three that had bet against her, Horund the very last. Neither Marly or Stacron followed, at least for now.
“After a fight like that,” one of the men that had come with her continued, grinning, “you need a drink.”
Kara shrugged slightly. She was a full head shorter than the shortest of the men.
“I’ll buy,” the man promised. “... with my new winnings!” The second man let out a cheer, and they both laughed. The two who had lost laughed as well; Horund let out a low forced chuckle only when it was apparent everyone else was laughing.
“Here,” one of the men grabbed a table from the center of the inn, near the bar, and pushed it against another, scraping several chairs against as he put them all together to make space for six.
Kara and Horund sat; the other four went to the bar.
“Stew and ale for six, barkeep!” The same exuberant man slapped the counter, hard enough to jostle Orin and Darious’s bowls and mugs, even hard enough to slop a little of the liquid out of a full mug.
“What, Ned, you’re buying for everyone?” Another man slapped his back and there was another roar of laughter and another burst of conversation.
Horund was looking at Kara, sitting three seats away but staring so hard she felt it crawl over her skin. Kara lifted her chin and looked firmly back at him, her gaze ice and anger with no yield.
Horund chuckled. “You’re not bad for a little girl, Ringer. Where’d you serve in the war?”
“Sundabar,” Kara said. She sat firmly upright in the chair, hands loosely together in her lap, eyes roaming the bar. She hated having space behind her like this; she couldn’t see who was over her shoulder. It made her tense and uncomfortable, and the scowl on her face showed it. She noted each and every person on the room: the elf and the man at the bar, the three dwarves drinking in a corner, the cloaked figure sitting at the other end of it.
“Sun -“ Horund chuckled again, with a nasty sound to it. “Didn’t know anyone survived that mess.”
Kara was silent, lips pressed tightly together.
“Here we go!” A bowl and a glass slammed down in front of Kara and Ned grinned at her. He had a more friendly smile than the others; it was something in his eyes, Kara thought. “Mystery meat stew,” the others laughed again, “and a bit of dwarven ale.”
“Thanks,” Kara looked down at the stew; it called to her much more than the ale. Her first year in the Freewolves she had drank. Mostly because alcohol meant sleeping, sometimes even without dreams. Lately too much gave her a nasty headache.
“Now, Garvey here,” Ned was gesturing to the other man who had come with them, grinning at Horund and the other three, “he’s telling me that the Freewolves are a sure thing. Steady work, good pay, equipment better’n you could afford yourself! Well I didn’t half believe it -“
Kara ignored the conversation, picking up her spoon and taking a bite of the soup. The meat was tough but the turnips and carrots were tender and the broth was rich and flavory, not watery like in some places. Kara thought it was delicious. She chewed her bite slowly and carefully, and went back for more the moment it was over. Only after six spoonfuls had dulled the edge of her hunger did she reach for the mug of ale, taking a long drink. It was good dwarven stuff, heavy as a slice of bread and a beautiful dark brown color.
Kara checked the room again. Three dwarves in the corner, the elf, the man and the cloaked figure at the bar. Her gaze lingered a moment on the elf’s armor and the man’s gun, but only a moment.
“Isn’t that right, Ringer?” Ned was grinning.
Kara looked at him, silent.
“Easiest trip up here you could imagine,” Ned filled in. “Smooth as properly churned butter.”
“We’ll see about this trip down,” one of the men was saying. “Merchant lies about the size of his cargo to get a deal, you got to wonder what else he’s lying about. Something, I expect. Ain’t surprised they sent Marly to deal with it.”
Kara are a few more bites of stew, disappointed that it was half gone already. She took another long swallow of ale, the drink warming her chest as it settled in her stomach. Better here than alone, she told herself. Wasn’t it?
Before long the ale was gone. The stew had already been gone some time. Sitting empty handed at the table was a little more than Kara could manage. With an awkward mumble she shoved her chair back and rose, crossing the now more-crowded inn to the bar.
Kara shoved between two of the stools, ending up next to the elf and the man. She was a little short for the counter, but she rose up on her tiptoes, a little frown on her face, and waited, keeping an eye on everything about her. She felt painfully exposed.
The bartender set down two more mugs of ale in front of the elf and the man, then turned to Kara, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
“What can I - EY!” He hurried off down the bar, scowling at a burst of noise and motion coming from near the cloaked man on the far end.
Kara exhaled, slowly, waiting. She glanced around again, watching as the elf seemed to be gazing into nothing, the man chattering and reaching his hand over the elf’s drink, pouring - something into it. Kara froze, one hand gripping the bar.
The man got up, making some disgusting comment about relieving himself. The woman reached for the drink as he stepped away.
“Don’t!” Kara blurted out. Her small scarred hand shot out, grabbing hold of the mug’s handle, holding it in place with tremendous strength. Kara stared at it herself, probably as surprised as the elf had been, then summoned her courage and looked at the much, much taller woman. “He - put something in it.”
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Post by Ossular on May 8, 2019 23:53:50 GMT
The front door burst open, and Orin would look over her shoulder toward the door as six different mercenaries entered, including the small woman tha had been amongst them in the back- Ringer, apparently?- and while Orin would more intrigued, the gunslinger next to her couldn't have really had a second glance in their direction. As they were at the counter, the eladrin zoned out, half-ignoring Darious and listened into the more interesting conversation. Honestly, as bad as it may have sounded, she was more intrigued by the mercenaries than her own companion at the moment, and it brought her back to her own adventure. (Ironically, the one that Darious had been on, with her, experienced all of the same things, she had, including death, rebirth in another realm. Darious, though, had died, and Orin had finished what she had set out to do before choosing to die in order to return to her own world to finish her own fight back in Golarion.)
Hearing Ringer's answer of where she had served, though? Brought forth not experiences, but stories she had heard from those throughout Silverymoon during the siege in the War. Orin would fall silent about the same time Horund cut himself off. That must have been a form of hell she wouldn't have wished on just about anyone, honestly, and she had looked away. Each Kara and Orin ignored the conversations around them, with Orin looking into her tankard with a bit of disinterest. The bartender came back, and Darious was in some stupid praddling about his plans of them traveling south when the eladrin looked up, catching the eyes of the barhand. "Excuse me- I know my friend here paid for this, but... it's not what I want," Darious would fall quiet, delivering a glance to the drink, then back to Orin, one that she would miss. "Could I get just a bit of whiskey? Like, on the rocks?"
"Of course, ma'am," the barhand would take the tankard from in front of the eladrin as Darious looked... perplexed. Orin would look in his direction. "See?" she'd raise an eyebrow. "All by myself," Orin would tell him, staring at him a moment.
"I'm so proud. But this means you have to let me give you something else later," Darious would respond with a wink, though the eladrin would roll her eyes, looking away as her new tankard, filled with three fingers of whiskey and some broken ice, was set in front of her, along with Darious' next drink. He would move, standing up and shuffling toward Orin, pressing against her. "But let me go make sure it's clean and empty, first."
"Yeah, go do that," the eladrin would scoff. Her mood with Darious was quickly growing toward disgust as he stepped away. Orin grabbed her whiskey, bringing it to her lips as there was a hand around hers suddenly. Orin's ears would flatten, her eyes would shimmer and narrow before she caught herself, stopping with a look to... Ringer? Orin would try moving the mug, but their strength was a bit equal- maybe in favor of the smaller woman, actually- as she listened to what she said. She would join Kara looking down to the mug in their hands before looking back to the barbarian.
"..." She would look back to the mug as she calmed herself. Pursing her lips, she would nod. "Alright. Um- let me see it," she... didn't have any reason to distrust Ringer, right? But Darious? As crude and perverted as he was, she trusted him. He's the one that could smell the contents of the vial, right? It smelled of Lady Susan. He wouldn't... would he? Still, though, she would at least check. Orin would lift it to her nose, swirling it and taking an inhale-
-and immediately caught the scent of nutmeg, the stuffing presence of- "taggit." Orin's mood would immediately shift, a bit of confusion, a bit of anger, and a bit of relief. If Ringer hadn't caught that, she would have- but why? Questions started to flood her head, as she tipped the mug to the ground between them, sending the drink to the floor. "I- uh- thanks- um-" Ringer could be a nickname that she maybe didn't want to give out- "thanks," Orin would settle on that, not having her name. It'd be another moment before Darious came back. "I know I'm not really in a position to ask, but could I maybe get another favor?" the eladrin would ask.
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Post by moralhazard on May 9, 2019 0:16:43 GMT
The elf looked at her; Kara couldn’t tell what was in her eyes. She felt the woman pull at the mug, and Kara tensed, holding it still. It took effort, a tightening of the muscles in her arms, but the mug didn’t move. Kara didn’t either, refusing to yield.
Maybe Kara had read it all wrong. Maybe it was agreed upon between them – some type of medicine or something. Maybe she shouldn’t have intervened. At any moment, Kara thought, the elf woman would scoff and tell her to mind her own business, loudly. Kara would be greeted by a burst of laughter when she went back to the table; she could imagine it already, along with the sort of jokes someone – probably Horund – would make about what they would characterize as her efforts to pick up someone much too tall for her.
Kara didn’t yield. She couldn’t. Perhaps there were many reasons to spike your traveling companion’s drink, but Kara couldn’t think of any she liked. If the liquid he’d dropped in the drink had been wanted, why had he done it while she looked away? Humiliation was nothing new, and not the worst she’d had to bear. She would take it, as she had so much else.
But it didn’t happen.
The elf nodded, and asked to see the drink. Kara released it at once, pulling her hand back to her side. She didn’t pull away. She wasn’t sure why; she’d said what she had to say. Perhaps it was just that she didn’t have her own drink yet. She didn’t make any effort to call the bartender, though, and a look of disgust followed by a deep frown crossed her face at the word ‘taggit.’
The elf dumped the drink on the floor and thanked her. Kara shrugged, brushing it off. It wasn’t anything special, she’d just happened to be looking. Then – Kara blinked at her. Another… favor?
After a moment, slowly, Kara nodded her acceptance of the request.
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Post by Ossular on May 11, 2019 2:20:00 GMT
Kara would nod, and Orin would think for a moment longer, as if thinking out something.
"Can you help me get some payback?" Orin would ask Kara. "I... I don't know how to explain it-" how could she to any 'normal' person? "-but I don't want to think about what he was going to do if I had drank that. He's-" Orin would pause, looking to the puddle for a moment. "He's changed." They all had, after all of their experiences. It was probably lost on Kara (maybe?) but the eladrin had a very distant look in her eye, as if she was now questioning some greater scheme. If Darious was her soul-mate, the one that she had been looking for, then why hadn't her memories come back?
"I'll buy every one of you and your compatriots a bottle of their choice if you all help me make sure he doesn't leave this building conscious," Orin would offer Kara, looking over her shoulder. Darious had a gun for one, maybe a spell for the second, but seven people? He wasn't going to slip away from a crowd. Taggit. The audacity of someone who knew what it meant to Orin, who had known everything she had gone through in the nutmeg haze in the Shackles, astounded her. It was the last straw in a considerable hay bale. The final warning sign on a road before needing to detour.
"Please."
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Post by moralhazard on May 11, 2019 2:57:11 GMT
Kara just looked at the eladrin. Whatever thoughts moved behind the gray-blue eyes set in her small tanned face, they didn’t show. If Kara thought her weak for needing to ask for help – or strong for having the courage to face the truth – she gave no indication. For a moment, it wouldn’t even be clear whether she meant to accept or not.
Then Kara nodded. “Now?” She asked.
"Now. When he comes back in."
Kara turned and left the eladrin behind at the bar, making her way back to the table.
“New friend, Ringer?” Ned’s tone was friendly, but the burst of laughter from the rest of the table wasn’t.
Kara cocked her head towards the bar and the elf sitting at it. “Worth a drink each if her guy goes down,” she said, arms crossing over her chest.
There was a murmur of interest, and Horund let out a burst of laughter, one hand resting on the table. “Once he’s out, I’m sure she’d be more than happy if I – ” He made an obscene gesture with his hand.
Kara’s hand dropped on his, and squeezed, hard enough that Horund’s face went abruptly pale. “No.” She said, quietly and simply.
“What the – ” He gasped.
“Ease off it, Horund,” Ned said. “You were out of line.” There was a faint murmur of agreement.
Kara let go.
Horund cradled his hand to his chest, turning blazing eyes on Kara. After a moment, his face softened into a nasty smile, and he chuckled. “Sure,” he said, shaking his head. “My bad.”
“What’s he got?” Garvey asked.
“Gun,” Kara said.
Gear was outside; but it wasn’t more than a moment before Ned and Garvey were back, distributing maces to the rest of the Freewolves. Ned had Kara’s glaive tucked under one arm, and he handed it to her with a nod.
Kara took the heavy weapon, resisting the urge to wipe it down. She glanced up at the eladrin at the bar, and, once she had her attention, nodded.
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Post by Ossular on May 12, 2019 6:04:50 GMT
"Now?"
Orin would nod in return. "Now. When he comes back in." She didn't know how long that would be, or if Kara and her troop would even accept her offer, but she watched with her emerald green eyes as the shorter woman made her way back to the table where there was laughter. There wouldn't be any kind of awkward wave or goofy hello from Orin but instead, there would be a serious that was building up. The hand motions and the general chatter from the table wasn't lost to her eyes, but she didn't acknowledge any of it. She watched two of their number get up, go outside and come back with maces, with Kara withdrawing her glaive. Kara would nod, and Orin would nod back.
Darious, on the other hand, wouldn't come back inside- at least not in the next couple of minutes. From the outhouse, the lengthy man with the dirty blonde hair and the well-kept duster over his polished leather armors would have seen a different woman that caught his attention. He'd look around- she was alone. Black hair. Busty. Some kind of younger adventuring type? He'd step in her direction first, giving the back of his neck a nervous rub after adjusting his coat a little bit.
"Excuse me, miss," he'd call out, the woman stopping and turning.
"Yes?" she'd respond, attention drawn to the taller man.
"Sorry for the interruption, but I was just wondering- if you'd be so kind- to come spend the night with me?" he'd ask, leaning closer as she took a step backward. His eyes became hypnotic swirls of black and white, and in her perceptions, he became more attractive, his features smoothed over as a magic she was unaware of bathed over her and sunk into her psyche. "My friend and I need a little company. Would you kindly join us for the night?"
"I'd love to," she'd smile softly, her eyes glazed over at the suggestion.
"Awesome," Darious would smile. "My friend's waiting. Let's go meet her," he would move his arm down, grabbing her hand and pulling her gently toward the front door of the tavern around the corner. He could use the woman as a distraction until Orin passed out from the taggit, and then get to work on modifying her memories. Then he just had to pretend for a couple of years, and boom! He'd get a favor from Lady Susan. He'd get his family back.
All according to plan.
Of course, what he had planned? Didn't exactly unfold the way he wanted it to, thanks to Kara catching him drugging the whiskey. He'd step in, completely unaware of the maces, the glaives- he would just start talking. "Hey babe! This is- I wanna say- Bella?" Darious would look up as Orin completed her warlock incantation. She'd snap her fingers, and there would be a loud ringing noise. The gunslinger would shield himself, bringing his hands up as his posture changed, immediately becoming defensive as the wave of sound vibrated through him. He'd take a knee, blood starting to drip from his ears before he quickly drew a pistol, not having time to retrieve the large rifle from his back. It would come out, his arm would extend, taking aim toward Orin, and his thumb would click the mechanism backwards.
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Post by moralhazard on May 12, 2019 13:53:18 GMT
Kara didn’t know much about guns. She knew enough to identify one, and she’d heard that being shot was painful and dangerous. She knew enough to say that if Darious pulled the trigger, the eladrin would hurt. That was more or less it.
But there were certain commonalities to most weapons. Kara suspected that a gun - like nearly anything else - would be hard to wield with a broken hand.
The butt of Kara’s glaive whistled through the air and smashed up into Darious’s hand, sending the gun flying away and almost certainly breaking several fingers as it went. Kara reversed the direction of her swing, controlling the weapon as effortlessly in the tight confines of the bar as she had in the fight outside, and on the next rotation the butt smashed down into Darious’s nose, made easy by his kneeling. It broke with an audible crack, and blood streamed down his face.
Ned and another of the Freewolves were on him then. Ned grabbed hold of his arms to keep them behind his back, while the other smashed a mace into his stomach, once, twice. Garvey came over as well, helping Ned to grapple the gunslinger and keep him kneeling in place. Horund was there at his other side. The fifth of the Freewolves backed Kara, mace ready at hand.
Darious was thoroughly pinned; two men holding him down, Kara and another on his right, Horund on his left, and the eladrin in front of him.
Kara held up one hand, and the blows stopped - for now. She looked at the green-eyed eladrin, waiting. She’d cast her spell; was there more she wanted to do or say before the man who’d tried to drug her was down?
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Post by Ossular on May 14, 2019 21:32:34 GMT
The gun went off as the end of Kara's glaive came down onto the back his hand. Orin's hair blew up and back over her shoulder, her hand still up from snapping her fingers. A glass bottle shattered no more than ten feet behind her. The bartender ducked for cover. The woman that had fallen under his suggestion spell was jostled from the enchantment. Kara's next rotation dug into Darious' nose, a ghastly crack echoing from the impact. The gunslinger's head jerked to the side as blood spilled from his nostrils and painted the floor. He stumbled to the side. Ned was upon him, dragging him backwards by one arm as another one of the mercenaries mirrored him, and even though the lengthy man with the broken nose and the dirty blonde hair thrashed against the surprise attack, a mace to the stomach swung with that much force would take the wind out of anyone's sails. The second one was a little higher, another forceful impact slapping into his ribs like a hammer onto a nail. Garvey kicked out a leg and grabbed the back of his head. Two men held him down, arms splayed, the others standing to the side as Kara stopped the blows.
Orin approached him, kneeling down and looking over him for a quiet moment, as if thinking of something. There was one way that she could check to see if he had been influenced by the fey- something that Darious had given Orin a long time ago: his name.
"Darious. Lawrence. Arbatross. The Third." Compelled, like Orin partially feared, the gunslinger would look up, meeting Orin's eyes. She would close her eyes for a brief second, continuing. "Taggit- why were you trying to poison me with taggit?"
"..." He'd chuckle, spitting at her feet, a mix of spit and blood. "I don't have to answer to you. Orders from a higher authority, darlin'. I'm sure you understand."
Orin would kneel down, looking at him. There was a moment of strained silence. "I do," the eladrin would speak. "But... I'm not asking with her authoirty." Orin would reach down, grabbing the end of his leg and standing back up, extending it as he struggled, but the weight of the two mercenaries forced him to let it happen, and Orin was physically strong herself to keep his leg where she wanted it. "Why'd you do it?"
"You already know," he'd respond. "You took everything away from me," he told her as she watched him. "Anastasia. Maria. You took my family. Eighty-two years ago! You took my reason for living and left me in the shadows! You took everything! So I came to make sure you don't get shit back." Darious chuckled, despite his predicament at the moment. "And as long as I can track you? I'm gonna make sure you don't get your happy ending. You don't deserve it, you monstrous c**t!."
Orin would simply look down at him. She wasn't sorry. She wasn't angry. She understood what she had done to reclaim her power. What she had done to him. Why he was here. The veil from those memories had been lifted and revealed to her now. But that wasn't important for anyone else around them but the two of them. No one else here would ever understand what had happened. So, if she was monstrous in his eyes? So be it.
It made what happened next easier.
The eladrin would raise her own leg and sharply stomp downward, straight above Darious' knee on the leg she had extended. With all of the force she could muster, a third unmistakable crunch would be heard as the gunslinger's leg bent the wrong direction. Immediately, he howled in pain, unleashing a slew of derogatory yet repetitive words before delivering a very trained arm thrust to the head, knocking him out and muting him. The eladrin would stand there, ears flat, looking over the gunslinger's unconscious body. There was a moment of contemplation before she looked away, taking a sharp inhale.
"So. What are you guy's drinking?" she'd ask, stepping away from Darious a step or two, as if she hadn't just broke someone's leg and asked for help catching a man unawares.
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Post by moralhazard on May 14, 2019 22:13:43 GMT
Kara watched, the butt of her glaive resting on the ground. There was much going on here, and most of it she didn’t understand. The man and the elf had been traveling together; that was clear. Kara had seen them earlier; he had been friendly to her, if disgusting. Now, as she spoke to him, it seemed that had been – a lie? A false front? Kara couldn’t imagine why someone would do such a thing.
It seemed the eladrin could. At least, she did not argue with the man’s accusations, or protest his promise to track her down. Kara didn’t flinch as the eladrin stomped on the man’s leg and knocked him out, although Ned flinched slightly – but didn’t let go – and Horund chuckled.
“You want him outside?” Ned asked, still half-holding the unconscious man. They would drag him to the yard if Orin said yes; otherwise, he and the other Freewolf would leave the man on the ground.
There was a moment of silence at Orin’s request, and then: “Auld Mountain Dew,” Horund was happy to be the first to request a drink, a shot of dwarven moonshine. The rest of the Freewolves didn’t hesitate to chime in, most just asking for a Dwarfhead Stout or similar. The only one to stay silent was Kara.
Whatever their history, Kara decided, it didn’t seem to justify taggit or the man’s attempt to shoot the eladrin. All the same, Kara found the situation confusing and she didn’t think she cared for another drink tonight. She didn’t answer Orin; instead, she hefted her glaive, carrying it with her back out of the inn to the front yard. She glanced around; it was growing later and the sun had set, but the streets were still well-lit, and there was more traffic than she might have liked along the main path from the street to the inn, townspeople and visitors alike coming for a drink.
Kara fetched a rag from her pack, and made her way to a secluded corner, tucking herself against the wall where the light didn’t go – not easily, anyway, and where she wasn’t obvious to anyone coming from the inn and not looking. She wiped the blood from Darious’s nose from the shaft of her glaive, feeling the heavy weapon in both hands. The ale she had had was a faint fizz in her veins, but she could train through it; she could train through worse.
Kara took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, and began to run through her glaive forms. As she always did when she needed to clear her mind, she started with the first, the simplest, and progressed through them. Her glaive never seemed to stop moving; it was a brown and silver blur in the moonlight, fast and lethal, spinning around her as she moved and lunged and struck. The training dances progressed in difficult as she went; when done properly, the whole thing took hours. Tonight, Kara didn’t do every dance she knew; she meant to sleep, eventually. She skipped ahead through the ranks, doing a few easy dances of warm-ups, and then pushing herself through the harder dances.
It was nearly half an hour in that her foot caught on a rock in the grass and she crashed to the ground midway through a particularly difficult sweep. The glaive slammed to the grass next to her, although Kara kept hold of it in one hand. She shuddered, kneeling there for a moment, silent.
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Post by Ossular on May 14, 2019 22:59:19 GMT
"You want him outside?"
"...Yes," it hadn't really occured to Orin about where to leave Darious. "Please," she would curtly add, givng Darious one more glance before he was picked up and deposited outdoors. The eladrin would handle him later- her question delayed until the mercenaries had moved the unconscious Darious outside. She would take all of the orders up to the bar, and while the man had been shaken at the gunshot colliding with one of the bottles, Orin apologized for the interruption with replacing the bottle, as well as buying the people who wanted it a drink to make up for it.
Orin turned around in time to see Kara moving from the tavern with the glaive over her shoulders. She had been the only one to not request a drink, and it intrigued the eladrin, though between the heavy mind and the people she was buying drinks for? It took several minutes before she was even able to get away from the small crowd. Having finally made her way outside with Darious' bag, guns and belongings from the stools at the bar, her bag included. It was a bit heavy, but she'd slam down Darious' bag on his leg, warranting a stifled groan, muted by the dust he'd inhale from the road.
People would simply walk around them as Orin sat next to Darious for a moment. Conscious or not, she would just think of everything that had past. She had been in the darkness for so long, living her deepest fears over and over again and again. It had broken her- Lady Susan had broken her so utterly and completely that when the Lady of Darkness and Ice finally pulled her from the darkness with a chance of redemption, Orin took it.
It was a day that Orin would think about through her meditations from this day forward.
There had been only one way to get her powers back, to prove that she was worthy. She needed the heart of a child of two people that had been touched by an entity known as the Whispers. There was only one that came to mind- Maria Abratross; Darious' newborn daughter. At Lady Susan's instruction, she performed a ritual, and it woke her powers from their slumber. As Darious came in, finding his way across the realms, Orin used her newly awakened power to defeat Darious, and instead of killing him so he could keep coming back after his family pulled him from the afterlife, she gave her old friend to Lady Susan as a present. A trophy. A promise to never question the Winter Lady again. It was one that she gladly accepted, and Darious took Orin's place in the dark where he relived the day that his wife and daugther were taken from him and murdered. Lady Susan had manipulated her psyche into the woman that would be her Winter Knight, and once she had broken free, used her mistakes against her.
"I won't apologize," Orin would speak, quietly, unsure if Darious could hear her or not. "How can I? I am a monster... I will always be a monster. I know this," the eladrin would agree, leaning back against the wall of the tavern, inhaling and exhaling before standing up. "But I am no longer the Winter Lady's monster. Goodbye, Darious," she would stand up, patting herself off. She would still hold his guns, his pistol at her side, his large rifle across her back. "If you're smart? You won't come looking for me."
The eladrin would step away from Darious, from the inn, moving away from the entrance, but stop a little further away from the road at the next person she had been hoping to see- the woman with the glaive. It had been nearly half a hour by the point that Orin would see Kara dancing within the trained forms of her glaive. Flashes and rotations, twists and turns, the eladrin would watch as the woman used the weight and momentum of her own blade to manuever herself into positions and angles that would, honestly, be difficult for anyone larger than herself. Then she proceeded to watch Kara stumble on a rock in the grass and roll into the grass with a hard slam.
Orin would wince at the impact, though it probably wasn't too bad, all things considered. She still held the weapon. She at least got to one knee. At that point, where she wouldn't interrupt Kara, did she finally clear her throat to let her know she wasn't alone. "I didn't want to interrupt," the eladrin with the emerald eyes would speak, stepping forward into a little bit of what was probably a patch of silence.
"Your form's very interesting," she would compliment. "I like the way you wield your weapon. Almost like it's a part of your body and not just a weapon. If that makes sense?" she'd smile lightly, her lips flat together. "It's been a while since I've seen anything like it- especially from a human." She wouldn't specify how long it had been, but incidentally, it came out as a very elvish compliment.
"I just wanted to check with you. I noticed you didn't actually get a drink," Orin would continue. "Was there anything I could get you?" She knew some people didn't like drinking, and that was totally fine. But Orin felt she had to re-pay the kindness she had been shown in some way, shape or form.
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Post by moralhazard on May 14, 2019 23:45:30 GMT
Kara stayed kneeling for a long moment, and let her eyes closed. If she kept them closed, she could almost pretend that she was in Sundabar, that the packed ground beneath her feet was the hard floor of the training yard at the Guardsmans’ Hall. She could almost hear Ironfist laughing at her; if she tried, she thought she could hear her. Ironfist would see through her frustration and laugh at her, a warm chuckle that went straight to Kara’s chest, encouraging rather than dismaying because Ironfist would be proud of her for keeping a hold on the glaive.
“What,” Ironfist would say, “you think you’ll always be fighting on smooth ground? Get up, try it again. You’re not done for the night.”
Kara opened her eyes. This was Yartar, not Sundabar. The noises around her were the chirping of crickets in the night and the loud laughter of men from the pub, not the quiet sounds of other training or the distant noises of the river at night. Ironfist was gone, and Kara would never heard her voice again. And there was an eladrin, stepping forward to talk to her.
Kara rose, evenly and smoothly, the butt of her glaive resting against the ground, her hand still wrapped around the shaft. The eladrin would have seen enough to know that no matter how relaxed the position looked, Kara could strike from it in a moment. She inclined her head in response to the compliments, shrugging off the odd elven-ness of it. She had known elves before; they always said such things. Some dwarves were the same, although most of those in Sundabar had intermingled long enough that they were friendly. But not all.
Kara looked up at the eladrin, trying to read her. Inside, she had seen a woman in need of help. In the combat against Darious, she had seen a brutal, dangerous warrior. Now, here in the dark – Kara didn’t know which one she was talking to, or if either or both really existed. It didn’t matter. The training had brought her some clarity; she could think more easily, now that she’d exercised some of the long day’s frustrations through movement.
“I want no thanks for tonight,” Kara said, every word measured and careful.
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Post by Ossular on May 15, 2019 0:32:22 GMT
Orin would blink, looking over Kara with her emerald eyes. She would look at the form. Having watched a bit of the training in the quiet behind the rather boisterous tavern? Having seen how easily she moved with the glaive, and thinking of all of the ways that she could potentially lash out toward Orin if the eladrin approached? The eladrin would only move a step- maybe two- in order to keep a little bit of distance.
"...Very well," the eladrin would purse her lips, just a bit, letting the quiet linger for another brief interlude. "Could I at least ask why?" Orin would pose that question toward the shorter woman.
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Post by moralhazard on May 15, 2019 0:38:26 GMT
There was a long and awkward silence between them before the eladrin accepted her answer, then another long and awkward one after it. Kara stood firm and unyielding through it, not moving a muscle. Out here, with her glaive in hand, she didn’t feel hesitant and awkward like she did in the tavern, or like she did with the other Freewolves. It helped that Kara knew with a deep certainty that her choice was the right one. She didn’t regret anything she’d done that evening; she had made the best choice she could at every step of the way. She wasn’t sure what would have happened to the eladrin if she hadn’t stepped in, but she thought it would have been worse than what she had done to Darious.
On the other hand, that didn’t mean Kara wanted to profit by it – not any of it, and not by so much as a drink. It ached, somewhere in her chest, that the other Freewolves had been so quick to accept the request. It wasn’t from trust of her; she knew they didn’t have that, not yet. These mercenaries she had met that same day.
Kara missed having companions she could trust.
But none of that mattered for the eladrin’s question. Kara inclined her head, slightly, acknowledging the much taller warrior’s right to ask. She knew the truth of her answer long before she spoke, but it took her a few moments to find the right words, looking off to the side past the eladrin.
Finally, Kara looked back up at her, unafraid to meet those piercing green eyes with her own blue-gray. “Revenge isn't justice."
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