Not your conventional meet-and-greet.
(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy
role play forums. Why don't you
register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)
This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]
by Inoadar on March 13th, 2014, 6:16 am
Inoadar stood in stunned silence, his back to the door. 'This woman is unbelievable! Why isn't she running like a proper woman?' Anger at the trap, and anger at the stubborn idiocy of this female robbed him of focus on the door for a moment. It had just dawned on him that it was now confirmed that there was no rear exit from this cursed shop. That explained why she wasn't running. She was trapped here as much as HE was! It was going to take some other method of escape.
An idea occurred to him. He felt in his pocket as he shoved back on the door. 'Yes! it's still there!' he crowed inwardly as his hand found his 'Bird's Tongue', a voice changing implement he'd picked up in Sunberth. He looked at the strewn weapons on the floor, joined nonetheless by the chain running through all their lanyards or basket hilts.
He needed to create a quick scenario for the soldier outside, and it didn't matter if he took a few more shots from the bitch with the...poker...thing...whatever it was. Even the head shot he'd just suffered, swelling and bruising as it was, would be to his advantage shortly. He needed to get the door barred again at both ends. Then he'd a have a chime or two to deal with her before the guard got the bar loose again.
"So just what do you think, woman?" he said, lowering the tone of his voice, but keeping it loud enough for the guard to hear, "That you'll keep your man by doing his fighting for him? Or is that your son? Gods, you must be quite the slut to have a son that old already. Is that why you got so mad? Because I spoke ill of some "stupid whore"? You don't care to hear me speak badly about whores? Why not? You're a blacksmith after all, not a whore. Or is it that you wish you were a whore, like other women? Did your daddy want a son? So you became a blacksmith to make up for it and now you regret it?"
He could see the anger beginning to offset the confusion on her face. She clearly didn't understand who he was referring to with his talk about "her man" and "her son". It didn't matter as long as she said nothing to directly contradict it. And even then, she'd need to be closer to the door for the guard outside to make it out. And if she came closer, he'd grab her, and then it would matter even less. His voice, already a sneering taunt, turned to pure venom.
"Well it's not to late, bitch. I'm sure your boy there would be happy to make a real woman outta ya. he'd probably let you lick him clean when he was done." She looked about ready to explode, so he feigned a sudden push on the door and turned around to set the bar back in both braces. His back was to her as he reached to set the lock slip, but his ears were keyed entirely in her direction, waiting for any sounds of her advance.
He'd be impressed if she showed the restraint and discipline to hold back after all his insults. But then, once he got the lock slip set, he'd just go get her instead. x
Last edited by
Inoadar on March 28th, 2014, 6:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I would prefer you called me "Nolan Parnell"...In fact, I insist.
-
Inoadar - Still at Large
-
- Posts: 967
- Words: 1029689
- Joined roleplay: June 5th, 2012, 6:14 am
- Location: Ravok
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Medals: 4
-
-
by Hadyn Skellig on March 28th, 2014, 4:35 am
A semi-confident distinctively defiant expression was momentarily interrupted by blatant bemusement as he spoke, almost to the point of Hadyn glancing around to make sure he was addressing her and not someone else. What was he going on about? never mind. He was clearly a lunatic. In spite of the situation a dark brow hitched a notch higher as he went on, head tilting as she grasped the fire iron a bit tighter.
"You're mad - " she began only to be silenced by further slander, however ridiculous and crude it sounded. Did he mistake her for someone else? was he drunk? Hadyn would not let her guard down for, regardless of the truth, he was still a potentially violent criminal. Once he finished his absurd rantings the woman took a breath. Should she beat him over the head or keep calm. It was increasingly difficult to avoid the former but with another breath she leveled her gaze with his.
"Y'must not've heard me over the sound of your wild delusions. Move away from the door."
Stay in control, Hadyn. You've dealt with strange birds before - though admittedly he probably takes the gold.
Her heartbeat hammered in her head, her knuckles white from clenching the iron. Any advancement would result in a hasty though entirely reflexive swipe at his head. If he'd listen then she'd... what? hit him? As appealing as the thought was the woman made the deliberate attempt to remain entirely in control. There was a guard out front and the man with her was weaponless - for now. If she wasn't careful she might get cocky. Following his movements with an overly watchful eye the weaponsmith waited with baited breath for his reaction.
-
Hadyn Skellig - a blade for a beer
-
- Posts: 698
- Words: 455862
- Joined roleplay: March 13th, 2013, 6:35 pm
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Medals: 2
-
by Inoadar on March 28th, 2014, 7:40 pm
'You're Mad' the woman had begun. That was perfect. He'd maintained his filthy ranting to test her resolve. But she clearly was not going to charge him on some impulse to punish his insults. She confirmed this as she repeated her order to him to abandon the door.
Now was the time for more "theater" for the guard outside. Inoadar raised his fist near his mouth as he retorted angrily, and loudly enough for the guard to hear, "Oh, you want me to come to YOU, do you?...FINE!" He then popped the 'Bird's Tongue' membrane to the back of his throat, and feigned a cry of distress, "MOM, NO, LET HIM STAY THERE!" as he charged the woman. The device altered his voice to sound much higher, much younger.
She got a nasty whack in on his arm and managed to elude his hold, which was more intent on tying up the weapon itself. As he wrestled with her, he continued to make theatrical cries in defense of "mother". And angry demands to "leave her alone!" as well. He then gave one last "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" in the modified voice before coughing the device out and shouting, in his regular voice, "PETCHING BRAT! I'LL KILL YOU BOTH!"
By now, he had several superficial wounds, and a couple that were not so minor. But they were nothing he could not endure. It was now time to focus fully on subduing the woman. He was empowered by his irritation with the increasingly smug look on her face. No doubt she thought her defense had been genuine and effective. It had been, largely, but he had been holding back somewhat as well.
He heard the bar drop at one end and knew the time was now. He made no effort to block the handle of the prong as she swung it. He just rolled his head with the impact, but it still left a nasty laceration across his cheek. But holding the weapon in both hands as she was, it left her open for a brutal fist to her midsection. She doubled over to meet his knee coming up into her face.
The prong clattered to the floor as he then slammed her back into the counter behind her. The other end of the bar dropped with a loud clunk as Inoadar spun to grab the voice device, jamming it in his mouth even as he dropped by the stunned woman's side. The door flew open and the guard rushed in, sword in hand. Inoadar heard the angry tromp of the boots approaching him.
He turned, his bruised, innocent expression smeared with soot and blood. He could not manufacture tears quite quickly enough, but he was able to put a catch in his voice, now modified to the higher, younger-sounding tone. "H-he...went in th-the back.....Oh Mother!" he pointed behind the counter and then sagged over the woman, whose eyes were beginning to flutter and clear somewhat. He knew he only had moments as he heard the guard growl a quick reassurance that he'd "get the bastard."
He was still under the impression that there was no rear exit, so he followed the guard quietly into the back, grabbing some heavy foundry tongs as he went. x
Last edited by
Inoadar on May 3rd, 2014, 9:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I would prefer you called me "Nolan Parnell"...In fact, I insist.
-
Inoadar - Still at Large
-
- Posts: 967
- Words: 1029689
- Joined roleplay: June 5th, 2012, 6:14 am
- Location: Ravok
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Medals: 4
-
-
by Hadyn Skellig on May 3rd, 2014, 3:02 am
Hadyn's world reeled as the impact of his fist and knee sent her sprawling. For all her strength this kind of vicious fighting was not familiar enough that she saw any of his moves coming. Much less the completely quizzical theatrics he was playing. Groaning heavily the brunette sucked in a painful breath where she lay, eyes narrowed with concentration. He was speaking again. She could hear the sound of an armored Knight rushing in. Thank the gods.
Bemused panic set in as the footsteps and voices retreated away from her. Where the petch was he going? Gritting her teeth the weaponsmith lay still for another moment as her attacker departed, most likely to dispatch of the Knight. Pushing her fist against the ground she allowed the tiny amount of adrenaline still pulsing in her veins to propel her up, grabbing for the fire iron as she went. Even if it was the last thing she did she'd pummel the son of a bitch for her trouble. Her body was slow to respond but Hadyn managed to drag herself to her unsteady feet, vision hazy. The throbbing in her skull did nothing to assist her in orientating her senses but she managed to follow the sound of the men.
"You... petchin' shyke-stain vagik," she growled to no one in particular, grasping the iron a little too tightly. Her muscles were tensed, ready to strike the first figure that moved. "Come back 'n finish me off... or'd you trade yer balls for that stupid magic trick."
Her words were nonsense but Hadyn was furious at the transpiring of events. She moved haphazardly across the floor, somewhat following her attacker into the back of the smithy. Using the burning forge as a landmark the disoriented woman navigated her way toward Inoadar, expression grim.
"Don't y'think 'bout slippin' out the back y-you piece of... piece of..." she fell silent when her brain couldn't produce an appropriate insult, the thunderous pain overwhelming the ability to speak. Probably better considering she wasn't planning the best attack on the man. Holding fast to the fire iron the brunette caught a movement to her right. Driving the weapon downward hoping to make contact with a body Hadyn struck blindly. Whether or not it landed its target was beyond her capabilities but there was no backing out now.
-
Hadyn Skellig - a blade for a beer
-
- Posts: 698
- Words: 455862
- Joined roleplay: March 13th, 2013, 6:35 pm
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Medals: 2
-
by Inoadar on May 3rd, 2014, 10:10 pm
When he heard the woman's voice snarling back by the counter behind him, Inoadar knew the moment was at hand. Up until now, he was perhaps only facing imprisonment. But he held no doubts about the severity of the crime he was now about to commit. The guard halted with a curious tilt to his head. He too realized the woman's comment was not likely to be directed at the "young man" he'd assumed to be her son.
Even as he spun about, the heavy tongs pounded against the helmet, denting the side and laying the man out in a clanging heap on the floor. Inoadar stood over him, knowing he had no choice but to finish the job. He raised the tongs, but heard the woman's steps approaching. It was odd how fury and regret could embody such equal parts of his emotion. 'This woman...this damned woman and her big petching mouth!' his mind swore, 'If she would have just stayed quiet, none of this would have happened!'
He knew it was not entirely accurate. But this situation had not been of HIS making either. All he wanted was to get out of this town. He had only wanted to sit quietly while the guard moved on. He almost felt ready to simply quit and accept his imminent execution. He let go of the left handle of the tongs, which then swept down to rest on the floor beside the guards head. The ambiance of the woman's halting insults made it clear she was about to round the corner. Something about the the open tongs, and the lie of the guard's head struck him with a last idea.
Even as she appeared in the doorway, swinging the weapon at her would-be rescuer's own plated feet, Inoadar shoved the full length of the handle under his neck, spinning it so the vertex of the tongs were poised like a nutcracker on the man's head. He glared at her, his voice low, soft, deadly.
"Put it down woman. I have nothing to lose now. I don't want this to go any further, any more than you do. I never did. If I had had time to explain my predicament before this oaf showed up at your door, you might not have pushed me to this extent. I only want to leave this pet-...this town." his smile of concession at reducing the level of insult to the city was equal parts grin and grimace.
He gave a slight nod to her, which dipped a bit lower a moment later to indicate the iron she still held. He let the handle down and subtly repositioned himself to show the easy leverage he could generate to crush the man's skull inside the helmet. "I'm serious, sweetheart. I won't really be in any bigger trouble than I am now, and you know it. Don't worry, I'm not such an idiot that I'll think you're doing it because you've suddenly taken a liking to me. And if I don't have to kill him, I don't have to kill you."
Her frustrated scowl was ample testimony to her acknowledgement of the truth of his words. He awaited her response with the most patience he'd felt all night. x
Last edited by
Inoadar on May 8th, 2014, 7:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I would prefer you called me "Nolan Parnell"...In fact, I insist.
-
Inoadar - Still at Large
-
- Posts: 967
- Words: 1029689
- Joined roleplay: June 5th, 2012, 6:14 am
- Location: Ravok
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Medals: 4
-
-
by Hadyn Skellig on May 8th, 2014, 4:08 am
It became painful clear to Hadyn as rounded the corner to find the scene she had no idea what she was doing. The Knight lay prostrate on the ground, the petcher leering above him threatening to break the man's face with the tongs. Despite the throbbing pain in her head the brunette had the good sense to halt in her steps, brown eyes wide as the intruder spoke. He implored her to lay down the iron inferring his actions should she disobey. The corner of her lip twitched with annoyance as he tilted her sweetheart and her gaze darkened at his preposterous insinuation. Swallowing any desire to correct him on that score Hadyn tilted her chin up, staring at him for another moment.
After what felt like a ridiculous amount of time Hadyn released the fire iron. It clattered on the ground loudly beside her feet. She didn't trust this man or his words but she also feared for the life of the Knight. Gritting her teeth she took a small albeit submissive step back though her gaze was trained with no small amount of ire and disgust on the criminal. If he went against his unspoken oath there were more than enough weapons available. Getting to them would be another matter. But off the top of her head she knew she was within grabbing distance of a hammer and stool. A paltry excuse for a sword and shield but Hadyn didn't care. After giving him some distance the brunette took a breath. Now he would prove himself truthful. Or not.
"Get out," she murmured, gaze flicking over his left shoulder to the back door of the smithy. She hoped her words implied she wouldn't follow (as if she even could). Her fingers balled into fists as she waited, hardly daring to breath lest she need to spring to action again.
-
Hadyn Skellig - a blade for a beer
-
- Posts: 698
- Words: 455862
- Joined roleplay: March 13th, 2013, 6:35 pm
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Medals: 2
-
by Inoadar on May 8th, 2014, 8:30 pm
It escaped Inoadar's rationalizing that he could simply leave right now. he could not have explained why he felt so compelled to justify himself. This woman meant nothing to him. But that smug righteousness...that...judgment in her face stung him. He had come to this town with a reserve of wealth to start up a trade, and he'd had it dumped out, right in front of him. And this woman shared the same superior glare now that the guard had slapped him with then.
"Don't give me that high-handed look, woman! You have a trade, you have something recognized as making you "fit to live" in this petching town!" the near whining sound of his own voice only irked him further. "I HAD the same thing, until the goons at the gate threw it in the mud at my feet! What did I do wrong? Refuse to conveniently starve quietly in some dirty corner? That seems to be what this town expects of me."
The tongs were forgotten, though he still held the handle. "Yeah, well, I see it in your face. 'Too GOOD for poison' aren't you? Not 'honorable' enough, is it? It's sneaky and dishonest, right?" he spat. "Not like the good, staunch honor of a drunken, jealous brute beating his unarmed wife with his righteous fists, eh?" His voice was an accusing hiss.
"And I suppose you can swear to me right now that not ONE SINGLE BLADE you ever sold here was sold to a man with less than the purest intent?? Not a thief or bully in the lot, right?" his sneer confirmed his presumption that she would refuse to admit to anything he said. But he didn't give her a chance to respond anyway.
"Well you can keep your 'honor". he said the word like it sickened him. "All I see is a tool for manipulation. MY goods would serve those with no other recourse. You think a slave-wife has the chance to go get weapon training and a suit of armor? No, but for thirty gold, she could spike the bastard's drink and be done with him."
He motioned at the figure at his feet, "Why do you think these guards don't want my trade in their town? Even though it works just as well on rats and snakes. Or is this town too clean and decent to have such vermin? Why not just turn me away then at the gate? No they poured it all out. All they left me was thievery. And then they punish me for resorting to it."
He released the other handle, so caught up in his defense that he failed to notice the twitch of the guard's hand near his foot. x
Last edited by
Inoadar on June 3rd, 2014, 3:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
I would prefer you called me "Nolan Parnell"...In fact, I insist.
-
Inoadar - Still at Large
-
- Posts: 967
- Words: 1029689
- Joined roleplay: June 5th, 2012, 6:14 am
- Location: Ravok
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Medals: 4
-
-
by Hadyn Skellig on May 14th, 2014, 11:11 pm
What Inoadar mistook for smug judgement in her face was, in fact, grim determination with a healthy amount of fear and animosity. But the end of this foray seemed to be at hand and Hadyn wasn't about to compromise that with a smart-ass comment. She was, however, unprepared for the lengthy explanation that followed. She'd expected him to flee, freedom literally offered to him. Instead he stood there explaining himself. As if she'd asked. A dark brow rose over a skeptical gaze. He was misreading her entirely, which she might've pointed out to him had he not been clutching the tongs to the Knight's neck.
On and on he went. Hadyn felt as though she was being berated despite the course of events. She nearly reminded him it was he who threatened her life and acted a fool. She couldn't tell if this was the first time he'd ever been in the position to leave a scene like this freely. But his drawn out jabbering was coming to an end, the brunette's attention momentarily caught by the slight movement of the Knight's hand. Raising her eyes to the long-winded criminal she hoped he hadn't noticed her distraction. It appeared he was finished with his rant, though she wasn't entirely sure his questions required an answer.
"We have rats 'n snakes a plenty," she replied hesitantly, bemusement unabashed in her expression. "Though they have the good sense to flee when given the chance."
Dark eyes flicked to the exit she'd expected him to make use of moments ago. While she unapologetically compared him to vermin she was also giving him a second opportunity to leave. She noticed offhandedly he'd been so embroiled in a self-righteous tirade that he'd released the handle of the tongs. Pressing her lips together she made another obvious show to look at the exit, expression expectant.
Just go, you stupid fool.
-
Hadyn Skellig - a blade for a beer
-
- Posts: 698
- Words: 455862
- Joined roleplay: March 13th, 2013, 6:35 pm
- Location: Sunberth
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Medals: 2
-
by Inoadar on June 3rd, 2014, 4:16 am
'Why is this woman's opinion bothering me so much?' Inoadar chided himself. He knew he should just leave her to her self-righteousness. He knew it even as he took another step toward her. He hated that she clearly felt he was just making an excuse for activity he knew to be criminal.
But it was not the case. He did not believe that the chemicals he made were in any way immoral. It was up to the one that bought and used them that had to wrestle with that judgement. He had no doubt that there were those that would buy poison and use it to kill their patriarch to hasten an inheritance. He felt that a better choice than hiring an assassin that might then turn around and blackmail them.
Of course, there were the warrior-types that felt anything less than some traditionalist nonsense about an "honorable, open fight", and "looking your opponent in the eye as you kill them" philosophies was the embodiment of cowardice. He'd seen these types armor themselves in such "honorable" approaches while beating the brains from a boy half their size, armed with a rock. He turned instinctively to cast a scowl at the fallen guard, thinking him to be a likely candidate for this school of ethics.
This was the only reason he had the warning to shift on his feet and turn what might have been a broken lower leg into a bruised and lacerated ankle. The guard was still very dizzy, and the effort to alter his swing to match Inoadar's dodge cost him grip on the heavy tongs, which crashed against the wall near the woman.
Inoadar hopped clumsily to retrieve them. His fury at the guard clouding his recall of the fact that this woman was no cringing maiden and had been holding a formidable iron prong moments before. This occurred to him as he bent to pick them up, intending to answer the guard's courage with some of his own, and heard what sounded like hostile footsteps behind him. x
I would prefer you called me "Nolan Parnell"...In fact, I insist.
-
Inoadar - Still at Large
-
- Posts: 967
- Words: 1029689
- Joined roleplay: June 5th, 2012, 6:14 am
- Location: Ravok
- Race: Human
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Medals: 4
-
-
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests