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Post by Kelila on May 2, 2009 18:00:22 GMT -6
((Sorry I haven't posted in so long! ... School and such...))
After Dierdan's dismal observation that "summat's gone wrong," Galen looked down the way to the village square, trying to discern what was happening. He could hear voices, but their words were indistinct. After a time, he heard laughing, but it was not joyful. Nothing sounded good, that was certain. He squinted his sharp green eyes, shading them with one hand and gesturing with the other. "It looks like someone over on the far side, I am not sure who, has decided to offer some sort of challenge. The crowd has gone awful quiet, but there are still a couple of people talking..." He stood for a while, watching and listening, then turned to Dierdan and the girl. "We--I mean, I, at least--need to get closer to hear more. I want to find out who is being sent off on the death-walk this time... Come on, if you want to." He threw back his cloak so that it would not hinder him, gripped his short staff, and took off at a quick trot towards the close-pressed crowd.
Somewhere, deep inside him, Galen found the need to run. To where, he didn't know. He had always longed for something interesting to happen, something through which he could prove his mettle. Maybe that was the very thing towards which he was running. For an instant, he wanted to join the adventure, to look death in the face. As he drew near the crowd, however, the thought vanished, suppressed by his inherent need for security. He might suffer horrible things if he chose to brave the dangers. Best to stay put and suffer little.
He tried to meld into the edges of the crowd, but as a relative stranger in the village, no one offered him a space. He couldn't see over the shoulders of the men, either, even though he was tall and lanky for his age. Seeing a stunted tree near one of the corners of the square, he quickly ran over and scrambled up into its gnarled branches. "Up a tree again, Galen," he chided himself under his breath as he climbed, "Does this not always seem to get you in trouble, you rascally cat-boy?" Slipping on a branch, he accidentally dropped his staff on someone below.
"Ow! Why, I oughtta--" The short, balding farmer shook his fist angrily at Galen, rubbing the new knot on his head.
"Sorry! I am truly sorry! Uh, just leave it at the base of the tree if you please, sir."
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Post by Elli on May 3, 2009 20:13:32 GMT -6
Cayden nodded, "aye, I figure that most don't wish to do his work, but you're obviously the courier to death." He gave the man a sadistic grin, "I may as well get going, you never know when Death's right hand man will come to take care of his business." He particularly wondered if the man really would let him go. ------ Blair followed Galen, wondering what really was going on. She stopped on the edge of the crowd, trying to stand on her tiptoes to see what was happening. She spotted Galen climbing up a tree, then his staff fell onto an unsuspecting man. Blair followed from the ground, whispering to the people around her to try and figure out what was really going on.
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Post by Daeiel on May 6, 2009 18:02:31 GMT -6
The man, such was his appearance, laughed once more. Uproariously laughed.
"Truly, you have the wit of a dead ox." He shook his head incredulously, a mocking smile still painted upon his lips. "Courier to Death I am not, my good man, though I do hope you'll send my good wishes when you meet Him...."
A gloved hand flicked through his hair once more, a spastic tic which vehemently disagreed with his otherwise meticulous behavior. "Also, you seem to be under the impression that this is a warning to make yourself scarce and secure your escape. Sir, this is an arrest. In other words, you come with me, complete with shackles, while I transfer you to your Doom. Was that simple enough to understand, or shall I go slower?"
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Post by Elli on May 6, 2009 18:30:54 GMT -6
Cayden smiled, "you may wan't to slow down for yourself... I'm not sure you understood what all you said in with the fact of what I said. But aye, I'm ready to go, so where are them fancy shiny shackles you promised me? Or do I get the beautiful rusty ones?" He put a different accent with the last part of his sentence... something about the fact that the man thought him dumb made him reply so.
Slowly his mind began going through various ways he could escape and get where he wanted to go... but really nothing came to mind at the moment. He didn't give up though, his mind was kept open for what may come by to happen.
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Post by Daeiel on May 6, 2009 20:01:29 GMT -6
"I believe you'll take a liking to this third option, the only slightly rusted. The polished ones are for your Sunday wear only...."
The shackles were out, dangling loosely in one palm, presented to the zealot with more than a little distaste. "Yes, I know they're complex. But have no fear, my good man, I shall aid you with their assembly..."
Words. He could almost taste them, with his spectre's tongue, its somewhat silver qualities relishing their knife-like edge. These gave off a metallic tang, similar to a blade, but far more pleasing to the mouth as a whole.
For spectres could taste what venom they spat. Spectres could savor every enchantement they wove.
These words, however, were naught but playful banter. If he were to employ his innate Faeire magic, his shimmering, four-fingered form would be revealed, and that was a risk he simply could not take.
For Faerie was no longer in control; the Dragons and their Riders dominated Alberion, depriving the Land of its rightful leaders, the humans, for Good Sense, and the Faeries, for everything else, both Light and Dark.
What he would give to have Oberon seated at his rightful throne, Titania at his side...
Or what he wouldn't give. Or what They would give him. All of these possibilities were juggling themselves around his cynical mind, reminding him of his true loyalties.
Loyalties. His mind practically spat on the word. What were loyalties but un-needed tethers, promises of favouritism and riches which were never fulfilled but dangled there, baiting one onwards, till one was so choked with fealties one didn't know one's own self.
((Ermm...I took a little liberties here....I noticed in your first post, Elli, you mentioned that we took the UK back in time. I kind of....expanded on that. Alberion is the oldest known name for England, in which Sundays were honoured, and Oberon and Titania were the rumoured King and Queen of Faerie {not just from Shakespeare}. I'm sorry if I messed anything up or if my character's offending anybody! I'm trying to make him nasty...how am I doing?))
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Post by Elli on May 7, 2009 10:23:59 GMT -6
((Quite alright Daeiel, it adds a lot more to the roleplay, and you are doing wonderful on making him nasty.)) Cayden sighed, shaking his head. Holding out his wrists to begin the chaining process he slowly, carefully spoke. "How I want for the old ways... they were so much better than these horrid times." He grinned, "I do say though, I am so ready for Sunday... I do like to 'dress up' for my Sundays." ((Sorry, it's bad... I'm kinda been head-desking it lately on this stuff.))
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Post by Daeiel on May 8, 2009 6:15:53 GMT -6
"I strongly doubt the executioners will take notice, you simpleton...." The spectre slapped the irons over the youth's wrists, clapping them shut as he silently thanked whoever would listen for thickly-padded gloves. Iron was all right with him, as long as he didn't touch it.
"I daresay the hand of Death will wring your skinny neck whether you're dressed for the occasion or not...."
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Post by Elli on May 8, 2009 10:37:14 GMT -6
Cayden grinned, "oh, well I do love to dress up anyways... you never know who is watching. I make a lasting impression on some small lad and he will become one of the best soldiers ever."
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Post by Kelila on May 8, 2009 17:30:54 GMT -6
An arrest. It didn't surprise Galen, given the increasingly heavy-handed actions of the authorities lately, but it gave him a shock nonetheless. They were actually taking someone by force this time? "Ho there," he thought, "you cannot go around clapping irons on some poor lad just because he disagrees with you!" Heads turned upwards to look at him. Uh-oh. He had said that out loud? He clapped a hand to his mouth. All the color drained out of his face, making his spattering of freckles all the more prominent. "Heaven help me..."
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Post by Daeiel on May 9, 2009 8:41:05 GMT -6
"Disagrees with me, eh whelp?"
The spectre's eye rolled to find the brash voice, the shadow of the man he had come to arrest still glistening in his peripheral. "You could say that, I suppose. You could also say that he 'disgarees' with this....."
The hand not holding the irons snapped out a bill, a thesis stating what was acceptable and what was not, according to the Triumvert. "The current law of the land, my boy, is what he 'disagrees' with..."
His tongue, his wonderful silver-hued spectre's tongue, had slipped. He'd mistakenly spat 'current', indicating, inadvertently, his feelings towards the Rider Trio. Shades....
'Current' meant the here and the now, not the permanent. 'Current' meant replaceable. 'Current' quite possibly could mean his life.
"I am acting under the Triumvert, you little twit, so I suggest you keep your impudent, stupid gob shut unless you wish to share his fate." The face that could last centuries whipped back towards his prey, vehement anger present in his eyes alone. "Now, then, as we were...."
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Post by Elli on May 13, 2009 10:42:14 GMT -6
Cayden smiled at the man, "why you just said that you hated... er I meant uphold the laws of the current situation or whatever. Don't you ever wonder why the Triumvert is so afraid of someone acting up? I have," he smiled as if it was some great joke, "I think that the reason is that they, I mean the Trio, are afraid of someone succeeding. Meaning that somewhere there must have been some poor little unfortunate fortune teller that told them about some person that could end their reign."
He shrugged, "sounds like a probable situation, I mean, they would have killed the soul that uttered those words." He laughed then, "but, I am after all, just a foolish boy with big dreams of actually saving my family... so carry on."
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Post by Daeiel on May 13, 2009 21:30:18 GMT -6
"There is no Ides of March here, you little fool."
The spectre's eyes were nonchalant, taking no notice of his realized slip, or, at least not appearing to.
The boy continued his charade of sarcastic valor, proving himself to be more contemptible than the spectre had ever realized Humans could be.
"I'll be glad when you're dead, you know," he commented off-handedly, as if that remark was quite a casual one one would perhaps utter in everday situations. "It'll put an abrupt end to your inane babble."
Mindless drivel was not something he particularly delighted in, nor had much practice of, yet the boy, according to his own cynical opinion, was a prodigy in that art.
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Post by Elli on May 14, 2009 20:38:36 GMT -6
Cayden shrugged to the man's comment. He didn't beleive the man's words, but he didn't say anything else. When the man commented on his death, he laughed. "Then I may have to give you some more babble to make it worth it." He glanced at his poor sister who began to sob anew. "Well, I guess I may as well go now... there really is no point in lingering."
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Post by Daeiel on May 15, 2009 12:23:28 GMT -6
"There really is no point in talking, either, you imbecile, so shut up and be silent."
The spectre grabbed the connecting chain and gave what he hoped was a painful yank. "Let your death be a demonstration, eh? Of what happens whenever some idiot gets a fool notion inside his empty skull and decides to act on it."
His gaze, of no particular colour, and yet of all colours, sought the brazen youth who'd voiced his opinion earlier. "Take that into consideration before you're all wasted by wishes of heroism, eh?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dierdan watched the boy go and see what was taking place, observed the girl run off in that direction as well. Oh, what he would give to go! To go and see something! To know something!
To know if he was really orphaned or not. To know what would become of his sorry hide, and his sister.
To know what was happening back at the village.
Cautiously, Dierdan snuck a glance, his sixteen-year-old eyes both perceptive and bright. He turned a scrutinizing glare towards his Master's manor, knowing full well that nothing was preventing him from going and seeing.
"Besides," reasoned the youth, "I's no' possible fer me ta ge' in any more trouble, I wis..."
It really was not possible for his body to be buried any lower than what it was going to be. So what was the use of worrying? Surely one more black mark would hardly show on his now monstrous stain, due to the complete loss of the sheep. What was the harm in knowing something before he died?
"No 'arm atall, me wis..."
With that, and a careful swing of his shepherd's stick, Dierdan the Ignorant Serf became Dierdan the Already Doomed Rebel.
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Post by Elli on May 15, 2009 15:33:54 GMT -6
Cayden grinned at the man, "oh aye, too bad I wasn't able to act on it eh? I was only allowed the enjoyment of speaking and saying. I'm not near done here." ------ Blair covered her mouth before words could escape. She was not going to share the same fate as the stranger. She glanced up at the boy in the tree above her, wondering what was happening that she couldn't see.
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Post by Daeiel on May 16, 2009 15:30:38 GMT -6
The spectre's face creased in a positively despicable smile, commenting only with, "I suppose your work will have to wait. After all, you won't be alive to complete it."
The spectre turned from the motley group, his prisoner's shackles still tightly clutched in his gloved hand. His horse tossed its mane and trotted forward, without signal, before snickering at the captive and moving on towards the Triumvert's fortress.
((Shorty short short....dearie me!!))
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Post by Elli on May 16, 2009 19:55:13 GMT -6
((It's okay! )) Cayden shrugged, he followed along, his eyes flicking about, looking for a way he could get out of the situation. ----------------------------------------- Blair watched as the two men walked away. She looked up at the man in the trees, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She wondered if he would go along with her. She was growing tired of this town, and decided it was time to act on something she had wanted to try in a long time. She wanted to put together a traveling group and search for some dragon eggs. She knew there had to be some, and she had a feeling she knew where. Now all she had to do was to get a group together that was willing to work on getting rid of the trio.
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Post by Daeiel on May 18, 2009 6:08:20 GMT -6
((I think we should wait for Kelila and Aly before we start rushing off some place, don't you?"
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Post by Elli on May 19, 2009 14:44:20 GMT -6
((yup yup))
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Post by Kelila on Jun 2, 2009 14:06:57 GMT -6
((Sorry about the long wait! I'm finally recovered from exams!))
"I am acting under the Triumvert, you little twit, so I suggest you keep your impudent, stupid gob shut unless you wish to share his fate."
Galen did indeed keep his gob shut. Eyes wide and lips clamped tightly together, he clung to his branch in the tree and quivered fearfully until the leaves trembled. He certainly did not want to be hauled off to the prison like the poor chap below in the clutches of the spectre. He tried to calm himself, to distance himself from the situation, to think. What could he do? If he wasn't careful, the next careless words out of his loose mouth could make him the Triumvert's next target.
He decided to climb down from the tree, for a start. He got about halfway down and slipped with one foot, flailed his arms in vain, and landed with a thud on his backside in the dust. With a groan, he stood up and began to shake out the folds of his red cloak. Galen gently patted his pockets to make sure none of his miscellaneous herbs or tricks had fallen out. His tricks... "Oh, fool," he mumbled, "I could have done something. I could have created a distraction. Something. Something, while he could have got away. The black powder, maybe..." He saw his staff, leaning up against the tree just as he had asked. His shoulders slumped. Unfortunately, it had a vulgar word fresh-carved onto its side. "Drat."
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