• PM To Join • Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Andaris group A, you're mine.

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.

Moderator: Basilisk

User avatar
Djinn
Prophet of Old
Posts: 512
Joined: Fri Sep 23, 2016 2:18 pm
Race: Prophet
Profession: Genie
Renown: 0
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 1
Medal count: 16

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Wed Mar 07, 2018 5:49 am

VII TAKING OF THE GUARD
15 CYLUS 718 | ANDARIS A
One little sausage sizzling in a pan, it went pop, and then it went BANG!

The break was early, or late, depending on when one awoke during a trial. The darkness, ever consuming and ever perpetual in Cylus blanketed the baronies of Rynmere like some ominous being, ready to steal the unwary to their demise. It was bitterly cold, wet and snowy, an unwelcome condition for anyone to be working in.

And yet, there were those working, frozen to their cores as they patrolled the city streets and byways, dressed in their armourment over thick winter woollens. The Guards, military men and women of each barony in Rynmere, sworn to their Kingdom and their Barony to protect the civilians that dwelt within. Common and noble alike. Sworn to protect with their lives.
“...so I said to her, Bethany love, it’s part of the job. We can’t just stop coming to work because a couple of mages got flamed. Jobs a job.” Ser Barlow said to his patrol partner, Ser Liddle as they crunched along the dark and wet cobblestone street between Mid-Town and the Crown. It was a moonless night, the heavy snow clouds obstructing any light from the bright orbs that usually graced the blackened sky. As they walked, their breath plumed in quick huffs like two chimneys in action.

“That’s true, so true. My brother was there, in Vhalar you know, and the stories he’s told me. We’d be stupid not to—“ His words stopped mid sentence causing his companion to glance over with a frown, his eyes widening as he stared at the crossbow bolt hanging from the knight’s eye, managing to slip between the grill of his face guard. Ser Barlow took a deep breath to raise the alarm, grasping as his sword too slowly as something smacked him across the helmet with enough force to knock him out.

“Quick, get him out of here.” Vilhelm hissed as he jumped down from the rooftops with catlike grace, standing beside Vandal and glancing around as he rearmed his crossbow. The large mixed blood hoisted his mace across his massive back and grabbed the unconscious guard by the arms to drag him into an alleyway to remove his armour.

“What about that one?” He asked in a low deep voice, to which his companion simply chuckled.

“That’s our little gift for them. Some alive, some dead, some with us. Remember?”
“Please...please stop..” The guard gurgled as an eager bandit shoved his dagger under the woman’s helmet and deep into her throat, splashing red warmth across his face like warpaint. Her companion, a rookie new on patrol whimpered as he sat on his knees in the snow before her, stripped of his armour and shaking from the cold. His head sported a large bruise and his lip was bleeding. Letting the dead woman drop, the VII bandit crossed closer with a grin, dagger at the ready.

“No.” A voice said from the dark, hooded figure stepping from the protection of a building awning to look down at the snivelling rookie. The bandit frowned, clearly unhappy to be postponed. The figure came closer, leaning close to the young man’s ear.

“You tell them boy. When they come to find you and your friend here, you tell them what we said.” The rookie stammered in tears, as though wanting to say something more, only to be silenced by another hard blow to the head.
Like ghosts in the night, the VII packs orchestrated their attacks; taking, killing or rendering unconscious at random guards from the streets or at their posts. Even the Baronies weren’t spared from their touch, men and women alike taken or attacked.

As the breaks progressed, so did the VII, disappearing into the Cylus night without a trace. At the changing of the guard there was pandemonium as colleagues would find their brothers or sisters nursing their wounds, followed by the shriek of a commoner stumbling across a body bleeding out it’s last grasp of life. Screams and bells of alarm began to ring through the city.

Too little too late.

For those left alive, or scrawled in the blood of the dead, there had been a message left as clear as day.

We are the power in Rynmere. Never forget.
Mod Note
Hi All, welcome to your next modded event.

Please note, this is happening concurrently across the whole Kingdom of Rynmere, and you have been placed in a group that best allows you to react. There are open options here for you to pursue:
  • Find a dead/downed guardsman and take action (help or don’t)
  • Run into a VII member (this is high risk)
  • Investigate/interrogate a survivor
Talley of Guards killed/taken/left behind as messages will be provided post event wrap up.

Rules:
  • You must post either 3 posts or 1500 words to be eligible for rewards
  • We will post once a week and you can only post once per round
Have fun guys!
word count: 877
User avatar
Valeria Burhan
Approved Character
Posts: 220
Joined: Thu Dec 07, 2017 1:44 am
Race: Mixed Race
Renown: +102
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1
Medal count: 1

Contribution

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Fri Mar 09, 2018 12:03 am

Image
She had no idea what had drawn her from slumber. Her eyes opened, a muddy kaleidoscope of colour, lids gummed with sandy sleep. She groaned, squinting slightly against the dim light that came from the lamp that remained lit in the next room. That's when she heard the mewl, the little needy cry of Alena as she butted her softly furred head against her face.

"What do you want?" she mumbled, glaring sleepily at the creature. She had no idea what break it was but she knew that it was too early to rise, in her opinion at least. However, the cat seemed to want her attention and the only thing she could think of was that she wanted to go out. If there was one disadvantage to owning a cat, it was that they could be exceptionally needy creatures who required certain things at the worst or most uncomfortable of times. Well, her feline had chosen this occasion to be inconvenient. She could curse and mutter and generally act disgruntled but it would do little good, especially as she would inevitably give in to the creature's cries.

Squirming out of bed, she wrapped herself in a blanket and shuffled out of her bedroom and towards the front door. The light was dim in here, the lamp turned well down but it was still brighter in its immediate vicinity, the glow allowing her to make out more than mere outlines as she opened the portal to release her pet. Alena trotted along behind her, meowing happily until the door was open, the chill air creeping into the room so that the young woman shuddered, watching the creature impatiently. The animal hovered on the threshold, not moving a step further so that the noblewoman was required to nudge her out of the house with her foot because she would not move of her own accord.

With the animal evicted, she happily shut the door fast against the chill, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself. She knew that she had to wait for Alena, that was another thing. She couldn't simply allow her little girl out and be done with it, leave her outside for a break or two until she was up and about at a more reasonable break. No, the cat would wail outside the front door to be let back in, sanity and sleep impossible in the face of such sound. However, no sooner was the animal out and the door shut on her that she began to cry out. There was no possible way that she could have carried out her business already and yet she was crying as if her little heart would break.

Wrenching the door open, she peered down at the little furball who stopped her desperate cries, instead shifting to a softer mewl as she gazed intently up at Valeria. "What? I let you out, what more do you want?" she asked, gazing right back at her, gaze an unhappy mix of blues and greys as she peered down at the animal. They continued to stare at each other, the feline giving a few more plaintive little cries. "You don't want me to go outside with you? You must be fucking joking!"

Shutting the door, she went to fetch her blue, fur-lined cloak, placing it over her nightdress as she slipped on shoes and went outside to the animal. "I hate you," she muttered, watching as the cat trotted off, leading her owner away. The Burhan trailed the animal, eyes darting around her for fear that someone would be about, someone who would see her in her current condition. Perhaps they'd be none the wiser thanks to the cloak but she'd sooner not bump into anyone all the same, although it did seem to be early indeed. Or perhaps it was late, a mere break or two since she went to bed. Either way, it was not the time to be in company.

The cat moved off, sniffing at something here and something there while the blonde scowled, rubbing at her eyes. The sooner the animal completed her nighttime excursion and was willing to return home the better.

"Why are you like this?" she muttered to Alena, wrapping her arms up in the velvet garment as she followed the creature.

"He-help... please."

A whisper, a bare hint of speech.

It gave her pause, freezing her in place as she looked wildly about her to see where it might have come from.

The cat dashed around the corner, slipping into an alleyway and she hurried her step so she could catch the animal, stumbling upon a sight that she hadn't imagined in a million arcs. There, trembling in the cold was a young man, half-dead in appearance, veritably blue from the chill air because his skin was largely bared; he'd been stripped. It was difficult to see in this light but the man bore terrible bruising to his head, only recently awoken to find himself nearly perished from the low temperatures. However, he wasn't the only thing that she saw, for beside him lay the body of a woman in armour and there was a puddle, a dark, sticky puddle that her cat hovered close to, the liquid clinging to her long fur.

There was a metallic stench in the air, but other smells as well: urine, faeces, death. She found the face, found the staring eyes and the full realisation of what she was witnessing struck her.

"By the Seven, no!" she squealed, her voice not as loud as it ought to have been as bile clawed its way up her throat. Her stomach spasmed and she just had time to turn away so that she didn't throw up all over the corpse itself. Her face was wet, tears saturating her cheeks, stomach acid and some remnants of her last meal dripping from her nose and dribbling from her mouth as she coughed up her guts, almost choking on her own sobs.

No, no, she couldn't deal with this, she couldn't deal with this! She staggered back, using the wall for support as she beat a hasty retreat, snatching up the cat as she moved.

"Please... so cold. He-help..." the man mumbled, his youthful face turned up towards her, eyes glazed and barely able to stay open. She ran, desperate to get away, to get home, to not have to witness what she had. Bursting violently through her front door, she flung Alena from her grasp, earning a yowl of protest and surprise as she threw her back against the door, hoarse cries coming from her throat; she had no idea how long she'd been making that sound but it was hard to stop.

Valeria slid down the door, whimpering and crying, the bloodied cat trotting over to her and providing a ghastly reminder of what she'd just witnessed. A Moseke Knight was dead and another - she assumed the man was another of them - lay freezing to death several yards from her home. And she'd left him there. Cowardly, sickeningly cowardly but how could she stay near that?

Her pet bore the dead woman's blood in her fur, full of it, and more than that, her eyes seemed knowing, accusatory even.

"I know I should help but I can't! I can't go back there!" she whined, hiccoughing and wiping at her face. Still the animal stared, seeming to judge her silently. "Oh don't look at me like that!" she wailed, hiding her face in her hands as she was left with the horrible dilemma. She could help but maybe the perpetrators were still nearby and maybe they'd hurt her too, maybe they'd do things to her before they killed her or they might toss her on the cold ground, battered, bruised and violated. In those circumstances, nothing good could come from her intervention. Yet if she didn't move, the young man would surely die from exposure if nothing else. There might still be a chance to save his life.

It wasn't clear how long she sat there but gradually the emotion ebbed, leaving an uncomfortable twisting in her stomach from the decision that she'd reached. She sought her water jug, taking some of the liquid to gargle with and get rid of the horrible acidic taste in her mouth before she took up her blankets and leaving the cat inside, slipped out to bring warmth to the man and try to help him into the house, if they were able to manage it between them. She wasn't strong enough to haul him but she could support him if he could walk.
word count: 1474
User avatar
Velaine Krome
Approved Character
Posts: 348
Joined: Sat Jul 29, 2017 1:06 am
Race: Mixed Race
Renown: +100
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 5
Medal count: 2

Featured

RP Medals

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Sun Mar 11, 2018 12:18 am

Image
It was an astoundingly cold night.

Tugging her cloak closer to her, the lady of Krome ducked her head as she made her way through the winding streets of Andaris. Her stomach was churning uncomfortably and the hair on the back of her neck kept rising. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what. She felt the heavy weight of eyes watching her movements. It might be her imagination, it might not, but the young woman could not help looking behind her every once in a while.

Perhaps she should have taken Elrik’s offer to accompany her home. It was late and a lone woman walking about the streets would certainly gain some unwanted attention. Still, Velaine couldn’t risk it. Not when Nate might be roused from sleep and waiting back home. Not when there still might be servants wandering the estate’s ground, wondering about the man Lady Krome was bringing in the middle of the night.

At least she had the winds to accompany her. Velaine felt them blowing around her, playing and tugging at her cloak in greeting. If this was Ne’haer, the young woman would have already coaxed the winds to settle down. But this was Andaris… and that mage burning still left an imprint on her soul. It had made her paranoid, wondering how the Ashcloaks would be able to root out mages amongst the civilians. And so, the wind howled in her ears… a cutting noise in the midst of the silence…

For the first time, Velaine realized what was wrong. The streets were too empty. Everything was too quiet. No sight of any living being but her. Where were the guards patrolling the way?

Shite. Something was definitely wrong.

As her heart began to race, the young woman wondered if she should start running. It felt silly since she couldn’t see anyone following her, but walking felt too vulnerable. Her body wanted to jump into action, the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

Then she heard the voice of a woman from an alley to her left, the sudden sound nearly giving her a heart attack. “Oh don't look at me like that!” The voice was light and smooth, but most of all familiar.

She couldn’t tell if it would have been better for her to simply ignore it, but the young woman found herself pausing and pressed herself against the wall to watch what was happening in that alley. A blonde young woman clad in her nightgown was carrying a bundle of blankets… walking towards a shivering man on the ground. There was another figure there… a body lying on the snow, a pool of something dark spreading around her.

It took her another bit to recognize that the blonde woman was her fellow noblewoman, Valeria Burhan. She could see the blonde struggling to get the man to his feet.

Pressing her lips together, the Krome walked toward them and took off her hood, as not to startle the Burhan. Upon closer inspection, the woman on the ground was clearly dead, her eyes staring at nothing. Her throat was slit open, staining her clothes and the snow underneath her with dark red. The sight sickened her, but after witnessing a young girl getting burnt alive, this seemed mild in comparison.

“Let me help.” Velaine knelt down besides the shivering knight, eyes darting between Valeria and the dead body beside her. “What happened?”
word count: 583
Image
User avatar
Caius Gawyne
Approved Character
Posts: 589
Joined: Wed Nov 01, 2017 11:31 pm
Race: Mixed Race
Profession: Arbitrary Lord
Renown: +164
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Partner
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1
Medal count: 6

Featured

RP Medals

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Sun Mar 11, 2018 2:04 pm

Their disgusting forms rose quickly from the cobblestones, bloodied and burned, twisted in death and given second life. Charred flesh and stained armor, vacant stares and grasping hands, hands that looked like claws. Claws covered in matted fur and someone else's sinew, their faces all turned on him hungrily, eyes like the burning hot coals of the Woman who'd marked him:

"Hypocrite! Who's the real monster—"
"—Fuck."

Caius hissed, startling himself awake from yet another nightmare. All of Zi'da had been full of them, twisted by the first mage execution and made more vivid by Syroa's strange blessing’s abilities. As if the northern noble didn't have enough trouble sleeping after well over a decade of insomnia, he'd been haunted, hounded, and pursued by ashes and bodies since the end of Vhalar. His heart hammered in his scarred chest, desperate to pound its way past the ice-like mark that traced across it, and the lingering faces hovered just outside of his vision in the Cylus darkness that filled his upstairs bedroom like a tangible creature all its own.

He wasn't going back to sleep now, that was for sarding sure.

Glancing over at the pale, slumbering woman next to him, the young Gawyne sighed with envy, watching Darcyanna breathe calmly and feeling the comforting warmth of her proximity. Blinking heavily, Caius guessed he'd only been asleep for less than three breaks, probably closer to two if the still-bright embers in the fire were any indication, and the wear of his restlessness was already thinning his sanity. He laid still for a few bits, attempting to push away the gore that blighted his dreams, only to give up and slide from the covers, disturbing Smudge with the motion of his bare feet.

The little grey dog opened one eye and wheezed, watching his master fumble in the dark for his pants, tugging them on begrudgingly while he attempted to tame his wild, terrified dream remnants that clung like dried blood to the back of his mind. For a moment, Smudge's nub of a tail wagged as if perhaps the break was upon them that he could go out, but the northern noble only patted him on the head before shuffling away, moving to glance out the curtains of the window that brought moonlight into their upstairs bedroom.

He saw it then, a flicker of a shadow—movement on the rooftops just a stone's throw from his home.

For a moment, his breath caught in his throat—was he still dreaming or was he awake? Looking again, ink-stained fingers parting the curtains just a little bit more even as the halls of his veins burned with fear, he saw one last figure, hooded and armed, drop from a rooftop and down into an alley. Unmistakably real and human-shaped, Caius was no longer dreaming. The rush of hot fear set the tempo of his pulse racing, and he slipped quickly away from the window to the bed, snatching his shirt from its inelegant place the floor as he did so,

"Darcy," he whispered furtively as he dressed, worried he'd seen their last sight flicker by like spirits of his ancestors, thoughts of Pythera or vengeful mages or worse filling his already nightmare-fueled mind, "Darcyanna, wake up. I saw things. Something's happening—"

It was then that the alarm bells started ringing through the city, loud and clear in the frigid late Cylus air, especially at the quiet break in Mid-Town just a handful more before dawn. Smudge panicked, awake, barking and whining, before disappearing under the bed,

"—Seven help us."

At least whatever was happening wasn't just aimed at them, and for some reason that knowledge filled him with a tiny sliver of selfish relief that was quickly drowned by waves of pure, mind-altering terror: what else could be happening? Had the Seekers returned? Was there a hungry peasant uprising? The Sessfiend Nolan? More rebellion? Bogs.

Caius waited for his delicate pianist to rouse from slumber at the noise, gathering her clothes as well and setting them on the foot of the bed. He flitted about the room like the terrified animal the alarm bells had made him, pausing in front of Darcy once she sat up to take her hands in his,

"I'd tell you to stay here, but there's no way this side of the Eternal Kingdom you'll listen to that this trill, I'm sure. Besides, we're better off together—we've learned that much. Let's get to the Crown. We'll be safe in the Mantis barracks. I can protect us better there."

That was that, really, and the young Gawyne finished slipping on his boots hastily before he tightened the fastenings of his brigandine, the leather and cloth padded armored tunic something he’d taken to wearing more often for protection when working for the Crown. He fastened his ash-colored cloak that was his uniform of sorts before opening the door to peer cautiously, silently into the stairwell, making sure no one was waiting for them if only because he couldn't shake the lingering fear of the threats of the Butcher of Warrick, let alone the haunting visions of his own past experiences. Sharp blue eyes saw nothing, no sign of movement, and so once he’d locked their door, he drew his saber with one hand and tangled his ink-stained fingers with Darcy’s with the other,

“Normally, we’d take the back way, but the main roads seem best. I saw hooded figures on the rooftops and in the alley.” Caius whispered, leading them down their stairs and out into the quiet, rather quaint street their rented home shared with several other stone and plaster homes just like theirs. A few homes down, the sounds of crying could be heard above the bells, the sound of alarm having woken children and parents alike. A few people milled in confusion in the street in various states of dress, some still in their nightclothes. The northern noble met their worried gazes, aware that a few of them knew who he was,

“Stay in your homes.” The Lord Arbiter spoke with a nervous, unpracticed authority, not wanting to see anyone get hurt if there was violence in the streets, “I’m sure the Iron Hand will soon have things under control.”

Whatever those things were.

With that, he made their way through the maze-like side streets, eager for the flickering street lights of a main thoroughfare instead of the heavy darkness of their neighborhood in Cylus, the young Gawyne’s silvery gaze sweeping the black of any sign of danger, desperately discarding his fear and panic in order to stay focused on protecting them both. It was just as the ruddy glow of one of the main roads toward the Crown came into view from their shadowed side street that he heard the noise of swift feet, grip tightening on his saber as he pressed them both against the uneven stones of a quiet home, their backs against the building as he squinted in the darkness, furtive whispers following another pair of heavier footfalls. There were people coming, but he couldn’t yet make out their conversation. Not hearing the sound of armor, Caius knew they weren’t knights or the Hand, which caused a molten heat to fill the cavity of his chest, body tensing in preparation to leap out at whoever came in combat, ready to leap out and stop them from the darkness, and Darcy could feel him slowly release her hand after one last reassuring squeeze.

As the footsteps got louder, something strange happened. Something in the darkness flickered and moved, small and glowing an orange-red. A flash of teeth from a twisted maw, the shapeless creature scampered down the alley ahead of the voices and the footsteps. Caius knew the color, knew the glow, and his breath burned in his lungs as it got caught in them, panic and fear filling his every thought before the glow disappeared and calloused, quiet laughter rang out in the alley,

“Shut yer head. Yer gonna get us found.” Growled the first voice, barely a whisper.

“Who fekkin’ cares? I can take another guard ‘r two t’night if they want s’more.” Bragged the second, barely a hiss.

Forcing himself back into focus, the two hooded men that rushed through the side street were obviously too absorbed with each other to notice the two nobles right away, and the young Gawyne was eager to take advantage of that, tossing himself into the middle of the street and raising his weapon,

“Stop in the name of the Crown!” Caius shouted above the rush of his pulse in his ears, only to see the pair of figures stop, both of them laughing wickedly, unafraid. In a surprise move, just as the northern noble shifted his stance and leveled his blade at the chest of the closer hooded figure, the other one turned and took off running back down the narrow, dark street the way they came, probably for reinforcements, quick and agile over the icy cobblestones. The one that remained, however, drew a blade of his own and snickered,

“Fuck th’ Crown. We’re th’ real power in Rynmere.”
word count: 1578
User avatar
Murphy Clyde
Approved Character
Posts: 64
Joined: Wed Nov 22, 2017 3:20 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Stable Master
Renown: +30
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Thu Mar 15, 2018 2:36 am

Of all the seasons, Murphy hated Cylus the most. The constant darkness and nearly crippling cold worked total havoc on his body and his internal clock, turning his joints stiff and achy, and causing sleep to constantly evade him. He was up late, or early, he supposed, his small apartment lit by his fireplace and a candle, huddled close to his papers so that Murphy could make use of all the meagre light it offered. He'd returned from Venora late in the day, and it would be only one more day before he was able to begin the journey home, back to the Eastern Settlements and Oakleigh by ship.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly, eye's drifting shut sleepily for a long moment, only to be jarred awake by a loud bang, followed by clatters and clunks outside the apartment. Murphy jumped in his seat, jerked back to full attention as he turned to look at the door. It was silent for a long moment, and Murphy hesitated, straining his hearing in search of any other clue to what the noise could have been. His apartment backed onto a narrow alley, which was usually cluttered with rubbish and empty crates, and so it was relatively easy for Murphy to shrug the noises off, and attribute them to a stray animal searching through the rubbish for food. And after all, it was far too cold to open the door and let out all the heat that had built up in the apartment over the afternoon and night.

Sighing, Murphy turned back to his page, finally putting nib to paper and penning a note to inform his mother that he would be returning home before seasons end, and to have a horse ready for him in Welles. It was a short letter, lacking of any pleasantries or updates on his time in Rynmere; Murphy wasn't particularly gifted at writing, and he kept his words simple and to the point. After all, he'd have plenty of time to catch up with his parents and siblings once he was home again. Would the couriers services be open this early? He wondered to himself, folding his paper and slotting it into an envelope. Probably not. The dockhands may be starting their day though... Eager to book passage home, Murphy stood, abandoning any hope of sleep as he retrieved his jacket, shrugging it on and doing it up, his scarf and gloves following. He slipped the letter inside the breast of the jacket, and after casting his gaze once around the apartment he made his way to the door.

A blast of icy cold air was the first thing to great him, and he squeezed his eye's closed, gritting his teeth against it as he pulled the door closed with a slam. Fishing his cap out of his pocket, Murphy paused on the landing, brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the alley, covered in a mess of snow and... blood. He gulped, face falling as he took it in, taking a long moment for what he was seeing to fully hit home. "Oh fuck." He gaped, aghast, his gaze caught firmly on the stiff, armoured body, helmet knocked half off his head and blood dried black all down the front. Clearly the reason for the ruckus he'd heard breaks ago. "Oh fucking shit." He choked, staggering forward a few steps before stopping once again. The man's skin was grey, blood dried around his mouth, and worst of all, his eyes were open and murky. Dead, so dead. Murphy thought, heart rate beginning to rise, panic creeping upon him. "Immortals help... Oh shit." His hands flew to his face, gripping his woolen cap and pulling it down tight on his head, eyes darting around the alley in fearful search of the culprit. Murphy stumbled back and turned, rushing to the mouth of the alley, eye's not ceasing their search until he stumbled into the street. Down the street was a wailing scream, and a moment later bells began to toll.

"Fuck, what... What's happening?" He groaned, casting his gaze around, moving away from the alley and down the street.

Image
word count: 714
Image
User avatar
Kirei Qe'Azour
Approved Character
Posts: 227
Joined: Sun Aug 27, 2017 1:00 am
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Chef
Renown: +79
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 6
Medal count: 4

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Events

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Thu Mar 15, 2018 4:32 pm

Image
Whoever said that riding in the dark was easy was either insane, or they've never tried it before. Kirei thought to herself as she stroked her mare's neck in reassurance.

The shadowy twilight that was morning in Cylus was bad enough. You at least had a chance of seeing rocks, and holes in the ground that could cause injury to both horse and rider then. But riding in the near pitch black of what would be predawn in another season was a nightmare. Kirei didn't know who was more grateful to see the stable come into sight; her, or her horse. One of the employees was waiting for her at the door, and took the mare's reins from her as soon as she dismounted. He gave her a sympathetic look when she sighed in relief.

"Difficult ride?"

Kirei bit back a groan of agreement.

"If I didn't know that walking here would be just as bad, and take more than twice as long in this weather, I wouldn't even try to ride during Cylus." she grumbled.

The man chuckled.

"It does get easier the more you practice, you know."

"I hope you're right."

"Do you want me to put her in a stable again?"

"Yes, please. It would be cruel to leave her outside in this cold when I can afford to let her rest in a stall."

The man nodded. Kirei thanked him for taking her horse, then began the walk to Elyari's Hope. Her shift didn't begin for a few more breaks, but the weather was always unpredictable in Cylus, and it was a good idea to allow extra time if one needed to travel any distance. Besides, getting in early meant more time with her mentor, and she was always happy to learn anything she could.

Senryo arrived at the restaurant at the same time she did. He greeted her with a warm smile as he opened the door for her, and took her cloak.

"Good morning!" the waiter greeted in Haltunga.

Kirei frowned in confusion as she tried to figure out what the man who was "big brother" to most of the employees at Elyari's Hope had said.

"I'm sorry?" she asked at last.

"Good morning." he repeated cheerfully.

"But what does that mean? I can't even figure out what language that is..." Kirei said plaintively.

"It's Haltunga, the language of the Lotharro. And I said "good morning." he repeated in Common.

Senryo grinned before continuing.

"And now, I am speaking in Common, the trade language that also happens to be the primary language spoken in Rynmere. There are two other languages spoken here; Xanthea, and Rakahi, which as I am sure you know, is the language of the Bi'qaj people. he said teasingly.

Kirei stuck her tongue out at the man briefly.

"Yes, I do know that much."

"Did the weather bring you in early, or are you hoping to get a few extra tips from Elyari? the waiter asked.

"Both."

"I'll let you get to it, then. I've got my own work to do. Let me know if you want another language lesson later, okay?"

"I'll hold you to that, Senryo."

"I know you will! You like learning about languages as much as I do."

Kirei headed into the kitchen, and greeted her mentor with a warm smile. The ovens were already going, and the heat that they produced was a welcome treat after coming in from the cold.

"What can I do to help?" she asked eagerly.

"You can help me by brushing these loaves of bread I'm taking out of the oven with butter." Elyari replied.

Kirei was quick to do as she was instructed. When she asked why it was necessary, Elyari told her that doing so would produce a soft crust. She also added that some types of bread required that they be brushed with milk, or egg white before baking rather than with butter after the fact. The milk would produce a dark shiny crust, while being brushed with egg white would give the bread a shiny crust. When Kirei asked if there were any other helpful tips she should know, Elyari told her that spraying water on a loaf of bread as it baked would give it a crispy crust.

When she was finished with her task, Kirei started to ask if there was anything else she could do, but she was silenced by a sudden scream. Kirei and Elyari exchanged uneasy glances.

"That...that wasn't far from here..." Kirei whispered wide eyed.

Elyari nodded.

"Aris and Andiron were planning to come in early as well. I hope that they aren't caught up in whatever that trouble is." Elyari said anxiously.

Kirei glanced at the glowing ring that encircled her left arm. Qylios had marked her for a reason, and Kirei knew that she had to at least try and make sure that her fellow apprentices were safe.

"I'm going to go see if I can find them."

Elyari looked as if she wanted to protest, but she too glanced at the mark of Qylios's blessing, and simply nodded.

"Be careful."

Kirei nodded.

"I will." she promised.

As she opened the door, alarm bells began to sound. Kirei froze for several trills, her entire body tensing as she turned back to her mentor.

"You be careful, too. Don't leave the restaurant, okay?"

Elyari nodded. Kirei took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Then she slipped out into the dark streets of Andaris. Her senses were on high alert as she looked around, searching for Aris and Andiron. She was intent on her goal to find her friends, and bring them back to Elyari's Hope, but she never forgot even for a trill that something had caused those alarm bells to ring. There was an unknown threat out here, and the sooner she could find her fellow apprentices, and get them back to the relative safety of the restaurant, the better.

Kirei found them at the entrance to the side street where the Bread Basket was located. Both were pale, and stood as still as statues. Andiron's skin had a green tinge to it, leading Kirei to believe that he felt sick, while Aris's hand was raised up to her mouth, her expression one of horrified shock. Kirei edged closer to her friends, her body instinctively shifting into a defensive stance; low to the ground to better balance her center of gravity, and balanced on the balls of her feet so she could move quickly if she had to. Her feet left distinctive prints in the snow, but the snow served to muffle much of the sound she made as she walked.

The sight that greeted her was a gruesome one. Two guards were down; one very obviously dead. The other was moving feebly, and groaning in agony. Blood stained the snow around them red, and the stench made bile rise in Kirei's throat as she took an involuntary step backwards. Her mind stuttered, and went blank. What was she supposed to do? She was no doctor! And judging by the carnage, she was no match for whoever had attacked these men. Rising panic made her want to grab her friends and flee, but a quick glance at the glowing mark of Celarion circling her left arm, and a silent prayer to Qylios calmed her enough to stay.

As Kirei knelt next to the injured man, she noticed words written on a nearby wall written in blood: We are the power in Rynmere. Never forget. Who was responsible for this? Kirei's mind flickered briefly back to the Mage burning she had heard about on the 5th, and the horrors of the Mage burning back in Vhalar. Were the Mages striking back? Or was someone else behind this? Maybe someone who wanted people to believe that the Mages were seeking revenge? Kirei shoved the thought aside for now. She had no way of knowing who "we" were, and no idea how to go about finding out. And there were more important matters at hand.

Kirei knew that it was important to make sure that it was safe to move an injured person before doing so. Otherwise, their injuries could be made worse. It could even kill them. But Kirei didn't know how to tell if it was safe to move an injured person or not. What she did know was that the guard was going to die if he didn't get help quickly...and that none of her limited knowledge of medicine was useful now. Would the man survive long enough for them to find help if they left him here? That didn't seem likely. But none of them could help him either. So what could they do? They couldn't just leave him to die alone. Kirei's mind raced frantically as she tried to think of something...anything that might help.

"Serin." she said at last.

"What?" Aris asked, hysteria tinging her voice.

"Serin. She knows herbs. She tends the plants at Elyari's Hope, but she's an herbalist as well as a gardener. She knows more about herbs than anyone else I know. Maybe she can help this man."

"We can't bring her out here! What if she gets hurt?" Andiron demanded shrilly, finding his voice at last.

"You're right. I don't know if it's safe to move this man or not, but I don't think we have a choice. We have to bring him to Elyari's Hope."

Was Serin even at the restaurant yet? Kirei hadn't seen her there, but it did seem likely. She was often the first to arrive so she could tend her plants in peace.Aris and Andiron exchanged worried glances, but they agreed after a trill or two. Andiron grimaced as he bent down to grab the injured man's legs. Aris hovered over them anxiously.

"Ready?" Andiron asked grimly.

Kirei was already holding the man's shoulders, so she shifted her grip, and nodded.

"On the count of three, then? Aris?"

Aris counted for them, and on three, Kirei and Andiron lifted the man as one. He groaned in pain, and passed out, but Kirei thought that that might be a good thing. It would save him the pain of being carried back to the restaurant.

"Will you keep a look out for us, Aris? We still don't know who did this, or if they're still around.

Aris promised that she would.

"Let's go then."

The three apprentices began the slow walk back to the restaurant.
word count: 1806
User avatar
Darcyanna Venora
Approved Character
Posts: 277
Joined: Sat Nov 11, 2017 12:54 pm
Race: Mixed Race
Profession: It's all too much for me
Renown: +121
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1
Medal count: 6

RP Medals

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Thu Mar 15, 2018 8:56 pm

Image
Sleep was a welcome escape these trials, a dark and dreamless place where Mastes hunger couldn’t reach her, and Darcy relished it. She embraced the empty thoughtless expanse of time that gave her sweet silent relief, clinging to it like a sucking babe to its mother. Curled in sheets and blankets, with her husband by her side, the mentally weary blonde let the world pass her by for a few graceful breaks.

Darcy.

A voice spoke her name, and in the fog of her dreamless sleep the once Venora groaned and huddled closer to her pillow. It was the voice of her Master, her Tormentor, too soon he called to her. Too soon.

...I saw things. Somethings happening—

The pianist frowned in confusion. Mastes sounded worried, and more like Caius than the vile Immortal he was. She dragged herself from slumber, only just opening her eyes and rolling slightly to reach for the too warm man. Finding the space empty she began to sit, Smuge’s panicked bark ripping her from the haze of sleep like a drowning sailor from the ocean.

“Caius? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Darcyanna spoke in a hoarse just-awake tone, feeling the small grey dog brush past her legs to hide under the bed. The tall Gawyne came to her, holding her delicate hands and speaking of getting to the barracks. Her confusion roiled and spun, indigo eyes moving from his face to the window, then back again as they widened and clouded with the icy blues of fear.

“Is it her, Pythera?” She forced the name from her lips, heart pounding in her chest. Grabbing hastily at the clothes he’d placed on the bed, the pale willowy woman dressed quickly in her long black lace dress, leggings and boots. Pulling her thick black cloak around her and drawing the hood, she listened intently as Caius led them carefully from the house. Hooded figures, not singular? For one glorious moment, Darcy felt a sweep of curious relief. Pythera would never be so careless as to be seen, not unless it served a purpose. This was not her sister, the blonde reasoned with her fear, this was something else.

Was it mages after her husband.

The Kasyni’s iris’ shifted to match her attire, shadow leaping hungrily against the walls of the buildings like a beast uncaged, hunting for the scent of vices to inflame and consume. She would hurt them, drive them all to madness before they lay a finger on the Gawyne.

Feed... The familiar whisper in her mind roused with delight, and for the first time, Darcyanna welcomed it.

As they passed worried and confused people, the Rose spoke softly, urging them to go inside. The word of Venora and Gawyne nobility, descended from the Seven. It held weight, it held hope. People would listen, would obey.

On they moved, swift and careful, eyes everywhere and shadows promising death for entry. Suddenly Caius pushed them back, firm against the stonework of a small home, breathing plumes of thick steam as she listened as hard as she could. Footsteps in the darkness, coming towards them. Darcy glanced back up the street, her mind working on her internal map of the city. They could turn back and probably take a side—

The warmth of her husbands hand left her own.

Turning back with wide eyes, she tried to grab at the man. Too late, he was already out in the open. Swallowing her flight instinct, the Kasyni followed, her dark eyes on the two men. As Caius announced their presence, the bandits merely laughed, one suddenly breaking into a run away from them. Darcy considered chasing him, but it was clear he could outrun her even without the slight heel on her winter boots. Instead she focused on the man before them.

“And who exactly are you, claiming to have this power?” The pale blonde asked cooly, her shadowy diri stretching out to curl around the man’s legs to taste his vices, to prime him for her own. Within herself, Darcyanna searched for the need that drove her to murder. She trawled for the desperate need for the Void, the drug that Mastes had so wickedly drowned her with.

Holding that vile ache, she clenched and unclenched her hands, waiting for her moment. Ready to touch him if she got the chance, to pour her need into his being.
word count: 747
Image
User avatar
Djinn
Prophet of Old
Posts: 512
Joined: Fri Sep 23, 2016 2:18 pm
Race: Prophet
Profession: Genie
Renown: 0
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 1
Medal count: 16

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Mon Mar 26, 2018 3:34 pm

VII TAKING OF THE GUARD
15 CYLUS 718 | ANDARIS A
It was like watching a time lapse from harmony to discord, from serenity to chaos. The sunslight never truly brightened Cylus, but for the meagre illumination it provided, it alerted the smallfolk of Andaris to the growing tension. For the few that stepped out into the frigid air before the rest of the world, the dim grey of the twilight morning showed the usual, cold puffs of air from a mouth or beast of burden. Merchants traveled to and fro, unaware of the blood soaking into the shoes of their horses or the hooves of their donkeys. A baker threw a burnt loaf from his window into an alleyway nearby, presumably for the rats that he didn't know were already inspecting the quickly-cooling body of a guard. He hummed while he worked, an old Rynlist hymn praising Verne for his judgement.

In that trill, though, the first note of the alarms and the panic that gripped each and every heart that heard them, there were no gods, no Immortals, no ancestors. The world froze, deeper a chill than any Cylus before, and when it resumed, when the cold air seared all of their throats, it was to suck them into a vortex more quickly than they'd know. The strikes the night before were executed flawlessly, whispers into a void, and the bodies either stashed cleverly or left on purpose. The bodies found, they were supposed to.

The ones that weren't found? They would be.

Valeria and Velaine looked down upon Ser Hester Maxell, a Moseke Knight whose service to House Andaris was his primary impetus in life. A serious man, with a closely trimmed beard and steel-grey eyes, his face was pale and fleeting as the blood dripped slowly from a small gash somewhere on the back of his body. His lids fluttered as he tried to maintain consciousness, but he had been there far too long before the women found him to fight much longer. He coughed, the tightening of his body sending waves of agony through his body, and he sputtered a few words quietly as the two women worked.

"Rat... bastards. Cloaked. Attacked from... behind," he said, his gravelly voice less so because of the blood slowly coating his throat. Valeria managed to get the blankets unwrapped, and with Velaine's help, they gently lifted Ser Maxell's back and slid the woolen cover below him. As they did so, they saw the growing pool of crimson, sure that it was most of what Ser Maxell had in his body. He groaned, but didn't scream. If those fucking cowards were still out there, watching his misery, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a scream of agony.

Little did he know, they were already satisfied.

With the blankets wrapped around Ser Maxell, soaked already in the blood that had pooled beneath the man, the two nobles hefted, trying to get him to his feet. They managed to get him upright, each supporting him by an armpit. As they staggered down the alleyway and towards the closest place with a healer, Elyari's Rest, the commotion of the city around them started to ramp up, hush becoming din, din becoming uproar. The duchy was waking up, as each and every other duchy was, to the same sights all around. Terror gripped the people, commoner and nobility alike.
Murphy had stepped into the narrow alleyway behind his apartment into the biting winds of Cylus, but the goosebumps on his body weren't from the wind. His eyes quickly found the body on the ground, steam rising from the blood slowly caking on the man's armour. Iron Hand from the looks of it. Panic gripped the merchant man's chest, threatening to stop his heart. Murphy released a loud gasp, hot air rising and crystallizing in the cold as he backed away in horror. His plea to the Immortals fell on deaf ears, except the one shadowy figure leaning in the shadows by the end of the alleyway. As Murphy passed, he didn't notice her, but she noticed him. Slipping from the shadows, the woman was dressed in shabby robes with a bright crimson plume on the front. She staggered behind Murphy as he made his way down the road, trying desperately to keep up with the man's quick gait, but unsuccessful in her shuffling.

"Sir!" She called to him, gripping her stomach as she moved toward him. The sound, so clear and close compared to the crystalline chimes of the alarm bells, gave Murphy pause. As he turned, he saw a woman, slight of build with mousy brown hair and a small but cute nose limping towards him. She had few freckles, and in the cold, a dried line of snot fell from her nostril down her philtrum, shining in the rising lights.

"Sir, please help! In the commotion, my husband rushed off to help, but I am giving birth! Please, sir, you have to help me!" She cried, the pain evident in her eyes. To Murphy, who'd seen plenty of foals born, the amount of blood on her gown was astounding, and he instinctively felt that something was wrong with the childbirth. Standing there in the middle of the street, he was given the choice to help the woman, or send her on her own way and rush to the docks to secure passage from the madness that was building in the air around him.
Darcyanna and Caius left their small apartment cautiously, but left behind Smudge, hiding under the bed and whimpering every few bits to remind the empty room of his existence. The little gray dog poked his pudgy face from the safety of his refuge and found the relative quiet of their apartment undisturbed, the alarm bells ringing still but he was getting used to that. Shimmying slightly, Smudge emerged from under the bed and rushed to the window, intelligent eyes looking out to see Caius and Darcy heading quietly down the road, both alert. Smudge yelped at them, but neither heard him above the alarm bells. The little canine sensed something, though, and as he came down from the sill, he turned to see a rather lithe female with a hood on, the dark grey obscuring all but her platinum blonde hair. She knelt and held the piece of raw beef out to the little dog, and he couldn't help himself. Caius hadn't fed him before leaving the apartment, and Smudge was hungry.

"Here, little dog," the voice purred, silken and smug. Smudge took a cautious step forward, but it was too close. Quick as a snapdragon, the hands flew out and grabbed the little dog, hefting him as she slipped from the apartment she'd been in for breaks, watching and waiting.

The best laid plans.

Unaware of the dognapping, Caius and Darcy made their way down the streets towards the Crown, trying to quietly and without trouble make their way to the Mantis barracks. They would be safe, the Lord Arbiter knew, but he had to wonder what was going on. Darcyanna's safety was his primary concern though, and he would help address the situation as soon as he was in the Barracks. Until then, though, he wasn't Lord Arbiter Gawyne, he was Caius, and he had to protect his wife. The streets were eerie, the overarching din of the alarms sounding much further away than they were as they walked. Caius' heart pounded in his ears, and Darcy's in her chest, but for different reasons. Darcy's Anak, granted by her bond with Mastes, hungered to be indulged, pulling on Darcyanna's mental state as they moved. Feed me, it said, and it was persistent. As they passed the alleyway, Caius noticed the red flicker, and saw a pair of shadows hulking.

They called out to the men, and while one fled, one stayed. He stepped from the relative darkness of the alleyway, and Caius' breath caught in his throat. He was of Caius' build, thin but strong, and had hair long and wavy like Caius'. He was thin of face, and held a sword in his left hand, a dagger in his right. The glint of his eyes sparked as he stared at the man, and when those hateful orbs turned to Darcyanna, Caius instinctively felt the rage behind them.

"Who're we? Bitch, we're th' reason th' city is shittin' itself right now," the bandit said, his eyes turning back to Caius. A smirk creased his lips. "So fuck yer Crown, an' fuck yer girlfriend here for thinkin' he's th' right to stop me in th' name o' anythin'."

The bandit hissed menacingly, the glint of his swords picking up a reddish hue as a flash of burning beasts filled Caius' vision before retreating immediately. The sheet-white pallor made the bandit smirk, as he was convinced his words had frightened Caius.

Darcy, however, could taste what made the man. Alcohol, power, lust... The man was a Den of Sin by himself. He was a myriad of vices, and as her Anak gathered around the man's feet, Darcyanna's craving increased, causing a twitch in her mouth as the Shadow of Vice fed itself a minute amount on the bandit's predilections. Poised there, the three of them, two nobles and a bandit, stared each other down. The other bandit was likely gone, to report to whomever 'we' was.
Kirei, however, was among the first on the scene of the dead and dying guards outside Elyari's Hope. The dead man was older and rounder, luckily for the three apprentices. The younger man, a middle-twenty arc knight from Burhan, was garbed in the uniform of the U'frek Sailors. This meant that his armour was lighter than that of the Moseke Knight next to him, but his solid musculature and the blood soaking the leather did not mean he was light. As Andiron and Kirei grabbed the man to hoist him, he muttered something that Kirei could hear. It was in Dehasin, a language she would not have expected from Sailor. Leaning close, he repeated it. Her knowledge of Dehasin wasn't complete, but she heard it well enough.

"Save my sister," the sailor had said. When they lifted, though, the Sailor passed out, and she couldn't ask him who his sister was. Saving his life was their main priority, though, and they grunted as they carried the heavy man the small distance to the restaurant. The older knight was left in the streets, but the gathering Iron Hand presence was reassuring to Kirei and her companions. Kicking through the door, Andiron led the Sailor feet-first through the restaurant, which was crowded with scared patrons. They passed those with slacked jaws, pushing through the doors to the kitchen. Aris swept the food from a counter and laid down a towel, white but soon to be lost. They placed the man on the counter, but it was too short and his legs dangled at the knees. From elsewhere, Serin poked her head out.

"Seven..." She gasped, her pale hand jumping to her mouth to stifle a gag. She looked at the three of them, and saw the hope in their eyes at her approach. "... What? Me? I don't know how to help here! You need a physician!" she screeched, alarm gripping her as she realized what they wanted her to do. She was gardener. Her herbs were seasoning, though she did know a few minor medical applications for them. This, though... This was beyond her skill.

"Kirei, I need you to go to the Crown. Ask about for a doctor named Glynn, should be around the palace. If you're stopped, say that Serin sent you." She nodded and turned to the guard, trying to remember the meagre first aid she knew.
Mod Note
First off, guys, wow, what a first round.

Where we are so far:
  • Valeria and Velaine are trying to move Ser Maxell somewhere he can be helped. Their closest where there is a healer is Elyari's Hope, though as you can see, Serin isn't much of a healer.
  • Murphy is presented with the option to help the mother giving birth, or ignore her in order to make it to the docks. She is frail and bleeding, but her story seems flimsy.
  • Caius and Darcyanna are presented with an opportunity to learn something about the events. How they go about that is up to them, but they are unaware that Smudge has been kidnapped. Even the bandit in front of them doesn't know that. It was its own special twist.
  • Kirei is tasked with going to the Crown to find a real doctor. The streets are filled with Iron Hand and some citizens, though some of the citizens may actually be bandits blending in. You have two rounds to make it to the Crown and find Glynn to help set up a triage center, or the Sailor you found will die... And his sister is lost to you.
If you have a partner, converse and figure out your next move. If you're alone, the choice is yours alone. Great risks, great rewards, right?

Have fun.
word count: 2258
User avatar
Valeria Burhan
Approved Character
Posts: 220
Joined: Thu Dec 07, 2017 1:44 am
Race: Mixed Race
Renown: +102
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 1
Medal count: 1

Contribution

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Mon Mar 26, 2018 10:40 pm

Image
In truth, Valeria had no notion what she was supposed to do in this situation. The young woman had never had reason to nurse anyone and so she didn't really know anything about caregiving beyond the fact that she wanted somebody else to be doing it. If it could just be someone else's problem then she'd be delighted but unfortunately, there was no one to which she could pass responsibility. Instead, she had to try to help a potentially dying human being because... well, the cat had looked at her. It would sound ridiculous if she said it aloud but the cat had guilted her into it by seeming judgemental. Well, admittedly it hadn't purely been Alena as the Burhan's own conscience had kicked in. However, now that she was out in the cold once more, with blankets in hand and a man who didn't look particularly capable of supporting any of her own weight, she was having doubts again.

The blonde just wanted to bury her head in her hands and sob, or perhaps throw up again. Things were bad when throwing up was considered a good alternative to what she was currently doing.

The noblewoman was just considering a timid attempt at rousing some of her neighbours when she caught a glimpse of movement from the side of her eye. She flinched away, unceremoniously letting the man's shoulders drop as she imagined that whoever had done this was sneaking up on her. Instead, she was greeted with a welcome if unexpected sight.

"Velaine!" she gasped, amazed that the woman was wandering around at this odd break of the morning (or was it night?). Still, better that she had the Krome here, a known quantity in this bizarre and uncertain situation, certainly more trustworthy than her neighbours who were strange and untested by her. There was no way that she could shoulder the burden alone and while there was no guarantee that they could manage the man between them, the chances were better than if Valeria had done it by herself.

"I have no idea what happened. I just let the cat out and she wandered into this. I was going to bring him into my house - it's just around the corner - to try to warm him some. He'll catch his end out here otherwise," she explained quickly, puffing out air before she took the reins. "All right, let's get him up a bit so we can slide these blankets under him. If we can't lift him, we could sort of... drag him," the blonde added, her expression apologetic, irises stormy although not likely truly visible in this poor lighting.

Shaking the blankets out, she got them close and then made to lift the man, using gestures, looks and the odd word so that Velaine could work with her. The Elithem didn't have a notion how to properly lift someone but she went with what seemed like the best grip for her, one hand gripping his arm above the elbow while the other moved to his nearest shoulder blade. As she heaved with all her might and panted for breath, the injured Knight succeeded in growling out a few words while they shifted him to get the blankets beneath him. He mentioned being attacked from behind and when they managed to move him...

For the first time, the blonde gained a true sense of the extent of his injuries and it didn't look good. Obviously, her knowledge of bodies and what they were meant to contain was quite limited but she knew that blood was supposed to stay in you and it didn't look as if it was doing much of that. Her stomach roiled, her eyes scrunching shut as she tried to complete the task blindly. To make matters worse, with the crimson pool uncovered, she was getting a whole new wave of smell so she was left breathing carefully through her mouth while trying not to panic and run.

This was doable. She wasn't going to throw up everywhere, namely because she didn't think that there was anything left in her stomach. It had to be done and it seemed that they were the ones who had to get it done; his life was in their hands and it was clear that they'd have to bring him to healer.

They had to settle for getting the blankets behind his back alone so that they could haul him upright and work from there. Even without the weight of armour, there was enough heft to the man that it was no mean feat to get him to his feet. However, it was a lot easier with two people and thus, when they got him upright, Valeria draped the blankets - utterly ruined - around him and held on to him for dear life.

"There's a healer... nearby. The place is called... Elyari's Rest," Valeria explained through gritted teeth and huffs of breath as she fought gravity so the knight wouldn't end up on the ground again. "If we can... just get him there, they can deal with it and- Vrung!" The Rakahi curse slipped from her lips before she could think about it as a terrified commoner darted directly across their path. Bells had started tolling Fates-knew-when and thus, the city was waking up and panicking. The street was filled with fear but worse, bewildered and frightened people who were dashing about with no real purpose. It was likely to be quite the hindrance, especially as it didn't look as if anyone had enough wits to truly register the sight of the odd trio.
word count: 963
User avatar
Velaine Krome
Approved Character
Posts: 348
Joined: Sat Jul 29, 2017 1:06 am
Race: Mixed Race
Renown: +100
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Templates
Letters
Wealth Tier: Tier 5
Medal count: 2

Featured

RP Medals

Taking of the Guard: Andaris A [VII Event]

Sun Apr 01, 2018 7:13 am

Image
Valeria proved to be as clueless as she was, having just found the man too. That also did not help her feel any better. The blonde at least seemed fine, but the Krome decided to ask just to be sure, “Are you alright?”

Soon, the Burhan decided that they should lift him up. Since Velaine didn’t have a better idea, she simply nodded and slipped her arm under the man’s back. It was then she felt the warm liquid seeping through her sleeve and she already had an inkling of what it was.

That’s a lot of blood. Too much blood, Velaine thought as she helped the man sit up. It reminded her of that trial when a fight had broken out in the mines of Endor and one of Nate’s men was carried on a stretcher, entirely soaked in red. If this had happened last season, the Krome would have balked at the macabre sight, but now… A bleeding man was nothing compared to a girl being roasted alive. She was no doctor, but that much loss couldn’t possibly bode well for the knight.

Hastily, the young woman scanned the man’s back, looking for any sign of injuries. “We’ll need to staunch the bleeding.” There she saw it. Though the man’s shirt was entirely ruined by the blood, she could spot a rip near the center of his back. It might be where the attacker had pierced him.

Surprisingly, the man still had the endurance to speak. “Rat... bastards. Cloaked. Attacked from... behind.” He was conscious and talking… That should be a good sign, right?

Following the Burhan’s lead, Velaine took the other side of the blanket to wrap it around the man’s body. She then proceeded to bunch up the material, hoping to use it to keep the pressure on the wound. Perhaps it could slow down the bleeding, if only a little. The man winced at her touch, but didn’t make much sound other than a grunt.

As she pressed onto the wound, Velaine turned at the man again. “What’s your name?”

He wheezed and coughed before slowly answering her, “Ser Hester Maxell.” A knight left in an alley to bleed to death. She would rather not imagine someone bold enough to attack one of the Iron Hands in the center of the capital. And successfully at that.

The she-wolf felt slightly bad for questioning him in this condition, but it would be better if they knew the circumstances. “Were you alone? Is someone else hurt?” Velaine took the time to scan their surroundings as she helped hoist the man onto his feet, but so nothing worth noting yet. She couldn’t help wonder if the attacker was still lurking under the shadows in one of the alleys. “Did you see who attacked you, Ser Maxell?”

Unsurprisingly, the knight was quite heavy for two young women. But at least she managed to drape his arms across her shoulders. Velaine nearly stumbled, but managed to shoot out a hand and braced herself against the wall. Without more help, she feared that they wouldn’t be able to Ser Maxell far.

While the Krome wasn’t entirely familiar on the city of Andaris, fortunately the other woman had some idea. “There's a healer... nearby. The place is called... Elyari's Rest.”

Velaine nodded at her, gritting her teeth as she tried to adjust her hold on the man. This man would die if they left him. “I suppose that’s the best we can do. Lead the way.” She wondered if their jostling and carrying of him would also serve to worsen his wounds. She scanned the streets around them, noticing that people had started exiting their homes. If no one noticed them soon, Velaine had half the mind to yell to the nearest commoner and order him to assist the two noblewomen. “We’ll need help. We can’t risk dropping him and injuring him further.”
word count: 679
Image
Post Reply

Return to “Andaris”