You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Eol Fefalas
|We currently have 2794 registered users. Our newest member is angel. girl.|
|There are currently 0 users logged into DragonChat.|
Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Tryin' to stay frosty... but I reckon the Cap's got a rescuin' in mind...
Day Three, Newhouse Jail, Beylix, 11:00 am
“…occupational hazard of being a sheriff. I find that if you go in any situation expecting trouble, then chances are you can only be mildly disappointed when you don’t find any...”
There’s a helluva ruttin’ diff’rence twixt expectin’ trouble an’ lookin’ fer it, fella… Dash responded to the sheriff’s apology with a dubious smirk and, figuring he’d sidled far enough off from the cell, allowed his hands to fall back to his side.
The pilot’s eyes danced from the sheriff, over to their passengers and the other lawman, then to Wyatt and Andy, and he shook his head a fraction. “Nah,” he shrugged, “coffee’d just set my gorram nerves on end an’ whiskey… well, let’s just say th’ Cap ain’t like to be happy if’n I loosen up in here, get me?” He hooked his thumbs over his gunbelt, again, and, in an attempt to ease his jitters a bit more, forced himself to lean his shoulders against the wall at his back, and tried to act like everything was shiny and he at least kind of liked Beylix… I ruttin’ hate this gorram place!
“Pardon, Sheriff,” Sung interjected, calling Dash’s gaze up from the heavily scuffed toes of his boots and sending it volleying between the Cap and Sheriff Pump-happy, “This feller you have in your mighty fine hospitality…what’s he being duly processed over? If’n you don’t mind me askin’, that is.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Bowman is in for murder. He claims self –defence and most of the evidence points that way but there is a slight problem of witnesses not seeing a gun in the other man’s hand and a complete lack of motivation for said man to be trying to kill Mr. Bowman. I take it you know each other? Did the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs together or some thing like that I’d imagine.”
“Oh, he’s a funny one,” Dash grumbled from behind another smirk. (And, perhaps, the flickering of a thought that maybe he’d been too quick in choosing not to draw on the sheriff.) His gaze skittered over to Wyatt and, lifting a brow, he offered the Captain a look that might’ve said ‘it ain’t lookin’ good for ol’ Andy’.
“Excuse me?” John Blake interrupted, “when might we meet Mr. Pearson so we can proceed with our business arrangements?”
“Hmm?” the sheriff looked at the banker, “Oh yes. Ken, would you run out and rustle up Luke for these here gentleman?”
“Sure thing Sheriff.”
Sam’s eyes followed when Ken scurried out the door and, seeing Wolf on the other side, nodded to the big mechanic before letting his attentions swing back to those remaining in the Sheriff’s Office… the look in Wyatt’s eye just a second ago told him that the Captain had wheels turnin’ in his brainpan where this Andy fella was concerned and, as he listened to Wyatt and his old friend conversatin’ over the matter, he figured that his own brainpan’d likely have to facilitate some thinkin’ of it’s own before long… What was that I jus’ said ‘bout th’ diff’rence twixt expectin’ trouble an’ lookin’ fer it?…
“All the gorram same on this rock, I reckon,” he finished the thought out loud, “it is Beylix, after all.”
“When’s the trial, Sheriff?”
An’ here we go… Dash spit on the floor at his feet and his fingers wriggled anxiously as he pushed away from the wall… …off ta playin’ Big Damn Heroes or Big Damn Bad Men, again… Why can’t we never get no simple runs?
Posted on 2010-04-09 at 15:51:43.
Topic: hi again
Bob-o's a fire truck!!!
I wanna be a zamboni!!!
Welcome back, Addy.
Posted on 2010-04-09 at 11:19:01.
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Just now noticed Lance's link to the Rocinante mug...
Ta mah duh, puhn yoh, I reckon I'm'a hafta fetch me one o' them so as ta put some coffee wit' my bourbon.
Posted on 2010-04-08 at 17:51:04.
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: I'll get a post in before this weekend...
...even if all it is is Sam standin' in the corner lookin' all nervous... *nods*
P.S. Yay for restored work access! Thanks, Olan!
Posted on 2010-04-08 at 15:15:01.
Subject: Beware the facelick?!?! Beware???
No, no, no... you've got it all wrong! It's "be the facelick!" (Kind of like a zen thing, you know?)
Or... wait a minute... maybe it's "wear the facelick!"
Oh, rassafrassit! Here!
Now... you're properly inducted... get ta postin'!
Posted on 2010-04-06 at 21:42:59.
Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Well I didn't carve the "no" in stone or anything!
A lot the reason behind my lack of activity hereabouts, of late, has been due in large part to "access issues"...
(The added responsibility with the job and the 17 mile long "honey/daddy-do" list at home hasn't helped, either)...
Anyhoo... finally had a little back-and-forth with our illustrious webmaster-Olanilicious-guy today, though, and if everything pans out, it shouldn't be long before I can sneak in from work again and, as a result, be a little bit more dependable and able to keep up with the posts... soooooo... if ya still need another oddball mage kind of guy to throw horrible monsters and stuff at I can dig
Jal's Mathias' character sheet up, I'm sure.
Posted on 2010-04-06 at 21:27:37.
Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: I'd love to...
...unfortunately, between time and access, I'm afraid I'd be little more than a speed bump to the rest of you. Definitely be lurking, though.
Posted on 2010-04-06 at 11:28:40.
Topic: The Fates of Fortune
Subject: Cradling the stars
“Then sleep, Cay,” Nyx whispered, his lips brushing over the scarred top of her ear and his arms cradling her to him as the sorceress’ head settled on his chest, “we will begin working out the details of your first kill tomorrow… mela en’coiamin quel kaima…”
Cay yawned softly, her breath trailing in soft currents over his skin, and he smiled when she wordlessly nodded her response and curled herself around him. The spent and (for the time) sated aspect of that smile would have been obvious to any who may have seen it, of course… not that there were any, here, but he, she, and the dead to see it… but less obvious would have been the tones of happiness and true contentment that melded into that expression. As pleasant as those feelings were, though, it had been quite some time since either of those had managed to work their way into any honest manifestation on Nyx’s visage let alone into the cold, blackness of his heart and soul and, as he held Cay tenderly in his arms, running his fingers through the tousled auburn spill of her hair, and watched her drift off into slumber, those same pleasant sensations were also somehow disconcerting… unfamiliar and almost unsettling after so many years of having cared for no one else other than himself…
But it has not been that long, has it, his inner voice queried as Nyx let loose of Cay just long enough to draw a discarded cloak over them, The hours and days and years that you have spent following her… watching her… punishing those who may have hurt her… none of that was because you cared for her, I suppose?
The witch’s breathing had slowed, deepened, and become rhythmically even… a sound the assassin recognized as that of contented slumber… and, shifting a bit beneath her and wrapping her lovingly in his arms as he allowed his own eyes to close, Nyx nodded his acquiescence.
Where would I be,he mused, nuzzling into her hair, …where would webe… had I known it for what it was then, yes?
It was not the time, the voice answered, neither she nor you were ready. Your question, Nyx, should be ‘where will you go now that are more than just Prien’s servant … now that you have more than nothing’?
Well, Nyx chuckled, tomorrow I shall have to visit the Dreamweaver and see about that new coat… Cay’s bladework has surely ruined the one I have… the rest, I suppose, I will have to meditate upon, yes?
He knew where he would start, of course – this contract for Olsta’s thread would, certainly, lead deeper into whatever it was that had piqued Dmitrova’s interest in Bolstoii’s dealings – but where this path might lead thereafter, only the stars would be able to tell him for sure. The stars are mine, now, though, he smiled, moon-hued eyes opening a fraction to regard the woman he held in his arms, and they tell me they want Vadim’s head… that, then, is where I shall take them, first…
Nyx divided the remaining hours between lulling his mind into the restful contemplation of the reverie and – when an unfamiliar sound in the night around the crypt roused him or the murmurings of a dark laughter invaded his meditations – watching, caressing, and imagining a future with the sorceress who slept alongside him and, aside from shifting his position to accommodate a change in Cay’s, he scarcely moved for the entirety of the night. Having wiled away the darkest hours with Cayrimsa cradled against him had, in truth, provided him with the most restful night he had enjoyed in decades; the few hours he had spent in the reverie had refreshed him…I did not even miss watching the stars… and those other hours spent watching the sleeping witch had inspired him… because I held them in my arms.
As the night waned and the need for rest faded with it, the same tranquility and insight provided by those dark and still hours had begin to stoke the embers of the Twilight Elf’s restless spirit... If there are to be more nights like this one, melamin, he smiled softly as his fingertips found her cheek and his lips found her forehead, there is work to be done and preparations to be made, yes?…And that thought brought his mind back to the Olsta contract – for surely that is where the key to this new beginning would be found – and to the preparations that had yet to be made for that… and to the urgency of making those preparations lest the critical timing of the thing be thrown off and the entire venture rendered useless as a result…
“As tempting as the thoughts of casting aside another day in favor of your attentions may be, elen en cormamin,” he whispered, kissing her again before delicately untangling himself from her embrace, “I fear that this will not be that day… I have much to do if I am to give you what you want…” His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he slipped from the top of the sarcophagus upon which they had slept, tracking away only when his feet found the cold stone of the crypt’s floor.
After drawing the cloak back over Cay’s sleeping form and tucking it around her, Nyx found his pants and one of his blades amidst the chaos of their discarded clothing. It was only when he had stooped to retrieve these things and was in the midst of pulling his pants on that he noticed that he had neglected, last night, to return the stones which typically concealed his entrance to the mausoleum to their proper places before succumbing to his desires for the witch. He gave a slow shake of his head, his expression half a smile and half a reproachful smirk, as he fastened his pants and slipped the blade into the waistband… Another something to plan for, I suppose, he mused, crouching before the still exposed entrance, a place for the two of us to go which is more easily accessed and defended… He slipped outside, then, and made a quick patrol around the mausoleum to ensure that, despite the stones having been left out of place all night, nothing was amiss.
Moments later, the mith’ganni had slithered back into the small tomb and was sliding the last of the loose stones back into its proper place when he heard Cay begin to stir… a warm smile had begun to form on his lips until he realized that her stirrings weren’t the warm and rested kind with which those who had slept soundly most often awakened but, instead, a frantic, almost panicked bolting into physical wakefulness while the mind still was trapped in the wake of some horrid nightmare…
“Nyx…” the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared when a strangled cry in the dark called to him.
…The last of the secret entrance’s stones was still rasping into place when the mith’ganni was, once again, back on top of the sarcophagus and gathering the unsettled Cayrimsa back into his arms.
“Shhhh,” he whispered even before she had come completely up and, finding him there, nestled her face against his chest, “I have not left you, a’melamin.
Shhhh,” he said again, wrapping himself around her, holding her tightly, and, perhaps without realizing it, rocking her gently until her breathing slowed a bit. Nyx couldn’t help but wonder why she trembled against him… couldn’t figure out why her fingers had clutched at him the way they had… couldn’t reckon why she seemed so cold when even he had come out of his rest feeling warmer than he could ever have remembered. “What troubles you, my love,” he asked after a moment, his tone as soft as his previous whispers and as delicate as the fingers that toyed in her hair as he cradled her head.
She didn’t answer but to sigh heavily and hold him all the tighter. He felt the muscles in her face as, pressing one tattered ear to the pale flesh that shielded his heart, Cay’s lips formed an almost relieved smile while, simultaneously, her eyes scrunched tighter as if she fought against tears welling in them.
He huddled himself around her and kissed the top of her head and, in silence, continued to cradle her until her breaths had become even more regulated. “Lle tyava quel?” he asked after a few moments.
Nyx felt it as her cheeks hitched up, her lips forming a weak smile against his skin, then, and, between his heart and his hand, her head nodded slowly… just once… but she still said nothing.
“Lle tanaka?” Again, he felt her features shift against him as the witch’s smile strengthened in it’s certainty and felt her head move between heart and hand as she reaffirmed with a similar nod.
“I’m fine, ithilamin,” she said, finally, her anxious hold on him relenting a bit but not falling away completely, “An old memory. A bad dream. Nothing more.”
“Amin rangwa,” he replied, also relenting his firm hold on her as he felt her pull away from him a bit, and turn those limpid amber eyes up to his. Something in the tome of her words, though, made him skeptical as to whether or not he truly understood… dreams were not something he was accustomed to, after all, and, only recently had he even experienced one, himself… Whether he understood or not, though, was beside the point; the same tone in her voice that had made him skeptical as to the candor of her reply also bespoke the fact that it was not a topic she was open to discussing at length…
“I will always be here when those dreams chase you into wakefulness, elen en cormamin,” he relinquished the need to know what dream might have troubled her so at that moment, his fingers stroking lovingly over her cheek as he gazed into her eyes, “sina amin vesta lle.”
Posted on 2010-03-31 at 23:57:04.
Topic: Auguries of Destruction: The Clock Tower Q&A
Subject: LMAO @ EEEeeeeoooollalalalala!
You remembered how to pronounce it!
Nice post, Rer! Need to finish up a long overdue Nyx post and such but will have Bas posted for ASAP... the seer's "answers" have given me a lot to work with, I think...
Posted on 2010-03-31 at 22:23:59.
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Yup... I figure since Brom's got some of the inside skinny (and, most importantly, is willing to do it) on the Wyatt/Andrew connection it might be a good idea to let him NPC the Prof until YO gets back (if, Gods forbid, the man doesn't return, though, there's always the "Mod step-in" manuever or the "oops, Andy done went and got hisself kilt!/recruit new PC" route...)
I'd offer to do it myself but... time/reliability and all that, you know?
Posted on 2010-03-31 at 22:20:04.
Topic: Loki in Belize
Yeah... malaria's not fun... try really hard not to catch that.
Have a fantastic trip, Loki... looking forward to the pics.
Posted on 2010-03-27 at 14:20:44.
Topic: Pretty pictures...
Subject: Spam? I like Spam...
Very nice... The site design is very cool, loved the galleries... (Someone's told you before that you guys make gorgeous kids, right?).
Posted on 2010-03-25 at 00:16:02.
Topic: where did the webmaster go?
Subject: I know I've said it more than once...
...in one form and/or fashion or another, to more than one of you... Once an Innmate, always an Innmate, no matter what real life does to keep you from visiting as often as you'd like. This place wouldn't be anything without all of you crazy facelick magnets runnin' around postin' stuff and whatnot.
Sure, Olan and crew built a super-neato forum for us to romp around in but, if it wasn't for you Innmates - sporadic or otherwise - what would it be? It'd be like a party with one person... *yawn*
Besides... we've got an Innmate who's a lawyer!!! Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!!!
Posted on 2010-03-25 at 00:06:54.
Topic: The Fates of Fortune
Subject: Off to work I... whoa!!!
Despite the events of the day just past, the assassin’s mind had, necessarily, been turned towards business after having left the Albatross behind and meeting with the Olstas cook-elf. He would have much preferred to lose himself in the delightful distraction that Cay had become, of course, but, given the promises he had made to her and the plans he needed to set in motion to bring those promises to fruition, Nyx’s attentions couldn’t afford to veer from his deliberations of this contract… The mark was high value, the time frame in which to prepare and, then, cleanly execute the contract to the principal’s satisfaction was extremely short, and Imperial scrutiny was sure to be a measure above standard considering recent happenings in Drasnia and the purported seriousness (at least where non-humans were concerned) behind Senator Olsta’s trip to the capitol….
Work to be done and preparations to be made, Nyx had mused more than once in the last couple of hours, and with scarcely enough time for even the preparations… Each time, though, he had stopped short of invoking Prien’s guidance or even opinion, despite the fact that he knew the god still waited… and watched.
…If the information and background that the skittish little wood-elf, Rinril, had provided (willingly or otherwise) was even close to what it seemed, though, bringing the contract to a successful close would, surely, provide a sturdy foundation on which Nyx could build. The connections between this job and the one that Dmitrova had set he and Cay on just days ago had been easily presumed based upon the information they had gotten from Skjorn, and solidly confirmed (if only in a roundabout fashion) upon meeting with the client. Making good on the requirements of the senator’s execution would certainly go a long way towards him and Cay worming their way even deeper into those underlying machinations. These were the thoughts that occupied the mith’ganni’s mind as he and Cay, at last, made their way back to his crypt. Some of those thoughts, too, had found their way from mind to mouth as they had found themselves in the still and silence of the night-mantled necropolis…
“If standard protocol is followed,” Nyx was thinking aloud as he slid the stones away from the secret entrance to the mausoleum and watched Cay slip inside, “the Senator’s cavalcade will proceed along the Imperial Highway as opposed to the Tradeway between here and Ellis East. The best location to hit them, then, would be where the road winds along the cliffs north of Levka…”
Cay’s boots disappeared into the crypt and Nyx’s gaze panned across the graveyard before he followed her in. “…it should be easily enough done to set the entire caravan toppling into the sea below if we can manage to get a decent enough lead,” he continued, as he crawled into the murk of the chamber and rose to his feet, “Managing to get that lead, though, will be a…”
The thought was lost and the words died on his lips, replaced by a slightly surprised but nonetheless pleased smile, in the instant that Cay pressed against him and backed him to the cool stone wall. The mith’ganni’s mind found other words to speak as the half-elven witch tossed her hat aside with one hand and set the other to climbing his stomach and chest. Those words, too, were silenced before they could be born into the air between them as her eyes flashed with a libidinous spark, her hand whispered over his cheek, and her lips fell hungrily onto his… What need are there for words, anyway, he thought, his arms snaking around her, hands wandering and pulling her tighter to him as he fell into the lustful passion of that kiss.
Before long, the only thoughts playing through his mind were those hot and hungry ones that concerned peeling the burlap dress from her, once again, and the things he would do with the treasures he found beneath. As his hands slid over the curve of her backside and proceeded lower, intent on finding the hem of that garment and lifting it higher, though, Cay broke the kiss with a breathless gasp and rocked back a bit to make a bit of space between their anxious bodies. A tremulous sigh whispered over his lips, then, and his tongue followed, savoring the taste of her that yet lingered on them as his own hooded eyes met hers.
A slow smile spread on his lips as her hand feathered over his stomach and, then, arched a mildly curious brow as her fingers closed on the hilt of the black-bladed dagger at his hip. “Your preferred weapon, correct,” she purred, drawing the thing from its sheath, “May I borrow it?”
The assassin’s smile and fractional nod wordlessly repeated the sentiment he had expressed to her some hours ago at the Albatross… You are welcome to all I have… including my name…… even as the witch stroked it’s blade over the padding of his coat and slipped it into the opening just beneath the lowest buckle that kept the garment closed. His own hands had slithered their way back to her hips and lingered there, his moon-hued eyes glowing with curiosity and, perhaps, a bit of mirth as they danced between her eyes and the razor-honed blade that had just rendered that first buckle useless…
“I know this job needs to look like an accident,” Cay continued, her smile and her gaze playful as she did, “but… I’d like to use this…” her eyes ticked down to the blade a moment before she went on, “…on the senator…” The next buckle opened and she continued her ascent up his torso with the weapon.
Nyx’s smile emulated hers, then, and as she proceeded upwards with the blade, the alabaster hands that had rested on her hips also climbed higher, feathering over her waist and tracing along her ribs…
“I’ve never really killed on purpose before…”
The confession was unnecessary as far as Nyx was concerned. He had been watching Cay long enough to have learned where her lines were drawn and, since that night not so long ago when Dmitrova had first assigned them to work together with the DeMoria demons, Cayrimsa, herself, had often found occasion where she saw fit to remind him that, unlike him, she was no killer… And to taunt the Twin with the fact that it took both of them to do what you do alone… He offered no challenge to her admission, though; merely smiled a wolfish smile as the blade of the dagger slid towards the last remaining buckle on his coat and her other hand slipped into the now open folds of the garment to play across his stomach.
“You would help me though, wouldn’t you,” Cay breathed as that last buckle was severed. Her molten amber eyes lifted to meet his, burning past the iridescent yellow of the moons that reflected them and into his soul as she drew in an almost euphoric breath. In her grasp, the poisoned blade traced, in a decidedly sensuous manner, higher past the sundered strap and came to rest against his neck…
Very near where she nicked me with it just the other night, Nyx noted as he continued to smile and let himself blister in the fire of her gaze. His hands had drawn near the top of her ribcage, now, and teased across the side-swell of her breasts before flitting away to light delicately on her arms. He absorbed her face as she chewed on her lip and slowly began to trace the blade across his throat and inhaled a slow, confident breath that came back out as a low purr when he felt the razor-keen edge gliding over his skin, only a whisper away from opening flesh.
…“Help me make my first real kill?”
When he realized that she was serious and that the comment she had made earlier in the night about ‘taking his contract’ was not the joke he had believed it to be at the time, the purr in the assassin’s throat swelled into a deep, libidinous growl, and he could no longer contain himself. The fingers that had been gliding delicately along Cay’s forearm while she teased him with his own blade, now closed on her wrist and expertly wrested the dagger back into his own grip while his other hand lashed out to wrap around her and haul her roughly against him… “Oh, but of course I will help you,” he rumbled, unclasping her cloak with a deft flick of the rubied dagger’s tip. The scarlet cloak fell to the cold, stone floor of the tomb and, before the fabric was finished pooling at her heels, Nyx had reversed their positions with a trained pivot… he felt her heart pounding in her chest as he pinned her between himself and the wall… smiled at the faint moan she made when he traced the dagger’s point across her lips and whispered; “I shall show you ways of killing so quickly and silently that he will be dead before even the gods know it… show you ways to sever his thread that ensure you hear a symphony of his screams as he dies…”
The ebon blade of the dagger danced away, then – somehow, in one fluid motion, undoing the narrow belt that hung on her hips and returning to its sheath with a staccato rasp – and the whisper of steel on her lips was replaced by the faint touch of his.
“…But first,” he growled from behind a decidedly tantalizing grin, “I want you to scream for me, my wicked little round-ear…”
Posted on 2010-03-24 at 23:54:02.
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Terribly sorry...
...I could have sworn I already posted that... I even remember copying it from word and pasting it into the Add new message screen... Stoopid brain...
Anyway, written days ago and posted today, there it is... Most of the chinese is entirely too foul to post translations for... if you really want/need it all flipped to english, let me know...
Posted on 2010-03-24 at 23:50:45.
Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Bring me my brown pants!!!
Half distracted by the bulls*** and politics going on between their passengers and the lawman and distracted still more by trying to figure out the skinny between Wyatt and this Andy fella – They’s more’n jus’ passin’ acquaintances, I figger, just by settin’ eyes to ‘em. An’ it ain’t reg’lar fer Wyatt ta be broadwavin’ compliments as such… – Sam visibly flinched when the sheriff clipped into the room and jacked the slide on that shotgun. The pilot wasn’t as quick to stop himself as Wyatt had been, either, and had the Avenger half clear of its holster before he had spun around and reckoned the shiny bit of metal on the man’s chest for what it was…
“Ta ma duh,” Dash blinked, instantly freeing the weapon from his grip and letting it fall back into the holster and lifting his hands high as he forced himself out of the low, gunslinger’s crouch he had spun into. His eyes were wide and wild and, as they darted nervously from face to face, body to body, it was likely obvious to most that he was having a real difficult go of keeping his hands off his iron… or making a break for the door… or both…
“What in the gorram hell’re you thinkin’, puhn yoh?!” he grumbled nervously, keeping his trembling arms well out to his sides as he edged away from the cell, “Come a-stompin’ in a place rackin’ shells inta dog-humpin’ Betsy’s brother an’ gettin’ a fella all twitchy! Ni Ta Ma De! Tian Xia Suo You De Ren Dou Gai Si!”
His jumping gaze met Wyatt’s then… the Cap’s expression was flat, his eyes hard but, somehow still calming as they bore into him and spoke words in Sam’s head that hadn’t passed Wyatt’s lips…
Back down on that throttle, Sam. Everythin’s ku….
…The near imperceptible shake of Wyatt’s head was answered, after a somewhat exasperated sigh, by a similarly faint nodding of Sam’s. The paranoid set of the pilot’s features visibly faded a respectable bit and, even though he still trembled a mite as he continued to stalk away from the holding cell, it seemed as if he wasn’t so skeptical about not having drawing his pistol. “Sorry bout that,” Dash smirked, his face reddening a bit and hands lowering just a fraction as he moved even farther away from Andy, “just ain’t had a real good run o’ luck with guns an’ inside an’ s*** lately, get me?
Someone say somethin’ about coffee… or whiskey?
Posted on 2010-03-24 at 23:46:27.
Topic: The Fates of Fortune
Subject: New paths, new beginnings (part 3)
The bubbling sensation that had stayed with her while they rode through the city dropped the moment the old man followed their shadows to the table. The glances they had gotten on the street were not as obvious and she had been wrapped in Nyx’s strong arms, held in his gaze, they were easier to ignore or even to return. This was more personal, the man knew Nyx, or thought he did.
“Death walks, as they says, but, typical, he walks alone… Makes a bloke wond’r wha’ mighta changed in th’ world as th’ storm churned when typical ain’t so, aye?”
Death? No… you don’t know him old man. He is the one thing in this world that makes me feel alive… and that is what has changed, best you take note of it… she thought to herself as her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head down some, letting the shadows under the brim of her hat consume the two boiling points under it. Under the table her fingers, still lingering with the scent of lavender on them, clench down upon the first bit of flesh she finds. For once, however, it is not hers, but Nyx’s.
“For most the world is the same as it was last night, Skjorn,” he said flatly, the words just barely covering the wince at her sudden grip, “Death still walks, alone or otherwise, and those seeking Death still come here to find it, yes?”
“Aye,” Skjorn nodded, “tha’ they does. As I were sayin’, though, t’ain’t typical they’s expectin’ Death in pairs…” His gaze flicked in Cay’s direction, again, then back to the mith’ganni… “Who’s th’ bird, Brother Nyx?”
The eels were turning in her stomach again, trapping her breath in her throat and urging her fingers deeper into Nyx’s thigh as she desperately tried to retain control of herself.
One glance and word old man and your guts can be spilled across this table before you have a chance to take another breath. Two words and I can hear you screaming for mercy before he finishes you. I don’t know and I don’t care if it is wrong or right… it simply is… how dare you-
“My partner,” her thoughts were cut off by Nyx’s growl. “If you must address her, old man, I would strongly suggest that you do so with respect, hm?”
His voice, tainted with the same anger that ate at her, mixed with the feeling of his hand pressing hers more firmly against his leg before disappearing into the shadows where she knew it clasped at a blade allowed her to breathe once more. A slow easy breath that closed her eyes for a moment and relaxed her grip on his leg.
“Aye, I’ll be sure ta do tha’.
Fergive me, Lady,” the old sailor regarded Cay again, “I’ve had a long day o’ drinkin’ an’ I’ve fergot me manners…”
She kept her eyes hidden under the brim of the hat as she turned her head slightly toward Nyx and refused to make eye contact with the old man. Quietly she listened as Nyx coaxed details out of the old man. Which lead to a single name being uttered: “Olsta…”
The shadows lifted and Cay brought her bright amber eyes up to Nyx’s. Leaning over she whispered close to him in a voice loud enough that the mariner could hear, but soft enough that it obvious she did not speak to him but only to ‘Death’, “Olsta? The widower Senator… whom a certain princess and her dead lover were discussing... This unhappy slave might be just what we need…” She stressed the word ‘we’ for the sake of the man across from them, but kept her attention fixed on Nyx.
Cay leaned into him and her voice whispered over his ear like an autumn breeze; the words carried upon it sketched the hint of a shrewd smile onto his lips as his gaze met with hers in that veil of shadows beneath her hat. “Amin n’ruwa ta,” Nyx nodded, affecting the same hushed tone, “the fates of fortune seem, at last, to be twisting in our favor, yes?” Beneath the table, his hand found hers, again, and delicately caressed her slender fingers where they yet rested on his thigh before entwining them in his own.
His gaze reluctantly swept back to Skjorn, then, and, en route, caught sight of the barmaid he had summoned making her approach to their table. “Another flagon for the details, Brother Skjorn,” Nyx offered, “and coin enough to take you through the morrow, if those details are of worth, then?”
The old mariner, his own gaze ticking curiously between Nyx and the woman who accompanied him, seemed to contemplate the deal for a moment and only nodded his assent when the serving girl drew to a stop at their table. “Aye,” he rasped, draining the contents of his mug before banging it down on the table within easy reach of the barmaid, “agreed.”
The terms agreed upon, then, Nyx produced a small pouch from within his coat and placed it on the table between them. Having done so, he turned his eyes to the serving girl and requested the promised refill for Skjorn and a bottle of dark, spiced wine…
Her fingers let go of his thigh when he coaxed them to entwine with his own, leaving a five pointed constellation etched in his skin. She could feel the aged eyes upon her, still questioning her presence. The anger that it stirred in her moments ago was lessening and slowly being replaced with a satisfied enjoyment in ignoring the existence of everyone but the man beside her.
“Food? I’m still starving ithilamin… can you see if they have something sweet?” The autumn breeze played against the pointed tip of his ear as the rest of the woman slid slightly closer to him.
“Perhaps a pastry to keep me sated while you gather up the details on our favorite Senator?”
Nyx nodded his reply to Cay’s request and returned his gaze to the serving wench; “What sort of sweets can be had from your kitchen, edainme?”
“Most any sort that can be had, m’lord,” the girl smiled cordially, “but if you’d care for a recommendation, the bayla, I think, is the best we have. Kuran makes it with the thinnest layers of yufka pastry I’ve ever seen and fills it with chopped nuts and honey… very rich… very good…”
As closely as she was nestled against him, it wasn’t difficult for Nyx to hear the soft rumbling in Cay’s belly that the barmaid’s description had elicited. “Very well,” the mith’ganni said to their server, “a plate of the bayla, as well, then… and two cups for the wine, yes?”
“As you wish,” the girl nodded, already backing away from the table, “I’ll just be a moment.”
The moment the wench had disappeared into the smoke-haze on her way to the bar, Nyx’s eyes slithered back to the ancient sailor. “No need to actually wait for your refill before you tell me more, I hope,” he prodded as his gaze dipped meaningfully to the purse that sat between them on the table.
Skjorn half-smiled/half-scowled at that, his murky green eyes ticking away for a moment as if to verify that the barmaid was, in fact, retrieving the promised ale before he agreed with a nod and brought his gaze back around to the mith’ganni and his woman. “I s’pose not,” he shrugged, “Ye’ll be guaranteein’ th’ usual discr’tion, aye?”
Nyx’s head cocked a bit to one side and he regarded the old man with a reproachful smirk for a long moment. When Skjorn’s expression become no less expectant, the mith’ganni sighed, lifted a finger to his lips and, muttering arcane words under his breath, traced a curious pattern onto the table with that same finger. “Your words of for no ears but mine…” his finger tapped the table in front of him, “and my lady’s…” a tap on the table in front of Cay, “… and your own, Brother Skjorn,” he said with a final tapping of the table before the old man.
As the private conversation spell wove itself around the table, the set of the ancient mariner’s features became more assured.
“Stay where you are and say nothing until after the girl returns and is gone, again,” Nyx cautioned him, “I’ll not assure confidence should you do otherwise.”
The smile stayed on her lips as Nyx took over the details, ordering their food and then closing off their conversation. The familiar tongue of magic rolling over his tongue and into her hair.
So much sweeter than those silvered elven words...
She watched everything out of the corner of her eye, but still managed to keep her attention focused on Nyx. Silently she wondered how much that bothered the old man. If her obvious infatuation with 'Death' combined with her dismissal of him and the altogether mysterious introduction Nyx gave her must be driving him insane. It made her smile and curl up even closer to the assassin.
When the barmaid returned with the warm pastry soaked in honey and nuts she again let Nyx handle the details. She occupied herself with flaking apart the layers of it with her fingers. The layers began to disappear between her lips one at a time while the mariner began to spill his information.
As instructed, Skjorn held his tongue until after the food and drinks had been delivered, watched the barmaid as she departed their table again, and, having assured himself that no undue attentions had turned their way, returned his own to Nyx and the rather enigmatic woman that clung to him… He couldn’t help but wonder who the curious lady might be. Shyndyn’s never worked wit’ a partner… least ways not when ‘e’s come lookin’ fer th’ Executioner’s callin’s, here… an’ while I figger ‘e’s bedded ‘is share o’ wenches, I doesn’t recall ‘im ‘avin’ no interest in one keen enough ta bandy about with ‘er…
“The spell only lasts so long, brother,” Nyx hissed, “tell me of your slave and this task of his.”
“Right… right…” the mariner coughed, the assassin’s voice rousing him from the moment spent wandering in those contemplations and fingering the foam that topped his new mug, “So, come about th’ height o’ last night’s tempest, them winds blows this li’l point-ear in through yon doors, aye?
Even if ye couldn’a seed the brand on ‘is neck, ye could’a telled jus’ by th’ look o’ th’ blighter tha’ he were a slave… th’ way his eyes popped an’ cracked aroun’ th’ place like ‘e were ‘spectin’, any minnit, tha’ some slave-hound er legionnaire were gonna pop outta the woodwork an’ snatch ‘im up… nervous-like an’, unlike most strangers what finds their way ta th’ Albatross, he din’t look’s if ‘e were ‘zactly sure wha’ ta do once he found ‘imself here,” Skjorn took a long pull from his mug, then, wincing as he swallowed the bitter mouthful. “When a bloke comes in lookin’ like tha’, says I, there be business o’ some kind in it, aye?
Knowin’ tha’, I snatches th’ lad unner me wing an’ gets ‘im intr’duced ta th’ way such dealin’s be done…. O’ course, I original thunked ‘e were a runner, aye, so’s I be tellin’ ‘im ‘bout how ta go ‘bout gettin’ ‘isself smuggled onta a ship headin’ out past the Hag’s Teeth…” The old timer paused, indulged in another draught from his mug as his gaze snuck a peek over his shoulder, then leaned conspiratorially forward and, as if he had already forgotten the spell in place to keep his words unheard by others, lowered his voice to a whisper; “…then th’ li’l bunny-humper tells me ‘e ain’t int’rested in ‘scapin’ but more as ‘e’s lookin’ ta have his lord an’ master done in an’ were told by some figger er anoth’r as this were th’ place ta come lookin’ fer such dealin’s…
‘Well, o’ course ‘tis,’ says I.
‘An’ you know o’ some as can do th’ job,’ says he.
‘I knows just th’ bloke as’d be saavy ‘nuff ta han’le it’, says I, ‘an’…”
“Time, Skjorn,” the mith’ganni curtly reminded the mariner, scowling around the rim of the cup of wine that hovered near his pale lips, “I need only know the important details.”
“Right…” The murky green eyes flicked to Death’s Mistress, watched as a layer of the bayla was picked from the plate and lifted to disappear between lips barely visible beyond the shadows cast by the brim of her hat, and, following another swig of ale to slake the dryness in his aged throat, Skjorn nodded faintly and continued on; “Well, ‘e figgered ‘e’d be meetin’ ya right off, I reckon… seemed real eager ta ‘ave someone get set onna mark ere ‘e lef’ th’ place… but I tol’ ‘im it din’t work like tha’… ‘e’d have ta gimme th’ partic’lars an’ I’d be passin’ ‘em on ta them as might be inter’sted an’ someone’d be contactin’ ‘im if such a thing were ta come ‘round.
Tha’ got ‘im bound up good’n tight, lad,” Skjorn snickered, “Got all high-pitched an’ whiney like ‘e were a eunuch er some such. Stared goin’ on ‘bout how th’ Sen’t’r, by gods, had ta get ‘is thread sev’red afore ‘e got ta th’ capit’l at th’ end o’ th’ week, an’ tha’ if’n there couldn’ nobody do it afore then all’d be fer naught an’ ‘the rebellion’d be lost’…”
Rebellion? One of Nyx’s brows raised slightly at that and his moonlight gaze slid quizzically in Cay’s direction…
“There it is,’ Cay murmured softly, licking a bit of honey from her lips as the amber fires of her eyes flashed at him from behind her shadow-veil.
One corner of the mith’ganni’s mouth hitched up into a rather devious smirk at that. Given the bits and pieces he and Cay had already managed to dig up, thus far, Nyx was almost certain that Skjorn’s client had more than a passing connection with Aelion, the Bolstoii princess, and whatever interest Dmitrova had in all of it. He leaned back in his chair, one hand tilting the wine cup to his lips and the other sliding across Cay’s shoulders as his gaze tracked back to the old sailor. He offered a scant nod – though whether in answer to the witch’s murmuring or as an indication for the ancient round-ear to continue, Skjorn wasn’t sure.
“Th’ bloke said,” Skjorn continued after deliberating it for only a second and sucking a few errant drops of ale from his whiskers, “tha’ it’d need look like an’ accident an’, wha’ wit’ th’ time fer plannin’ bein’ so short an’ such, tha’ ‘e really needed a body on it as quick’s poss’ble.
‘Don’ fret,’ I says ta th’ bloke, ‘I be havin’ jus’ th’ shadow in mind, aye?’ An’, knowin’ tha’ ye alw’ys foller th’ storms, Nyx, I tol’ ‘im tha’ ye’d be knowin’ o’ th’ offer this vera evenin’ an’d be comin’ ta call afore th’ sun crawled outta the east t’morra…
Th’ li’l bark-eater weren’t keen on givin’ out no more scuttlebutt once’t I tol’ ‘im tha’, mind ye… Jus’ said tha’, aft’r dark t’night, ye’d be able ta fin’ ‘im down ta th’ cellar back o’ Olsta’s gardens.”
“You told him my price,” Nyx asked.
Skjorn, in mid-swallow, replied with a nod that spilled more than a splash of ale into his beard.
“And he seemed to think he could manage,” Nyx pressed, “even being a slave and having nothing but what his master gives?”
“Aye,” Skjorn belched, soaking the inadvertently spilt ale into the sleeve of his tunic, “more’n one o’ ‘em piecin’ inta the pot, says th’ bloke. They c’n meet yer price an’ go ‘nother fifteen gold past if’n ye c’n meet th’ arr’ngements as they sees ‘em, he says. But if’n ye can’ be doin’ it, they’ll be needin’ ta figger other options…”
“They shan’t need worry about other options, I think,” the assassin grinned, setting his cup down on the table and, at last, nudging the purse closer to Skjorn’s side of the table.
“Jus’ wha’ I tol’ ‘im,” the old mariner nodded enthusiastically, snatching the purse from the table and secreting it away inside the salt-caked folds of his tunic, “jus’ wha’ I tol’ ‘im, indeed.” Skjorn lifted his tankard to his lips, again, and gulped down another hearty draught before offering an appreciative belch and scooting his chair back away from the table.
“I ‘preciate th’ bizness, Brother Nyx,” Skjorn grinned a toothless grin as he swayed upwards into a standing position and patted his tunic in the spot where he had recently stashed his payment, “May th’ Ex’cution’r keep bound yer thread.”
There was a fractional nod from the mith’ganni, then, and a very subtle hardening of his moon-yellow eyes when he answered; “Lord Prien should mind other threads more closely than mine. Good evening, Brother Skjorn.”
The ancient human seemed somewhat baffled, if not altogether taken aback by that reply. He blinked rapidly, the muck-green of his eyes muddying all the more as his gaze skittered back and forth between the elf he knew as ‘The Edge of Prien’s Axe” and this inscrutable sprite who suddenly accompanied him. “Aye,” Skjorn swallowed after a moment, backing slowly away from the table even as he lifted his tankard to his whisker-blinded lips again, “I s’pose mebbe tha’s so… G’evenin’, Brother Nyx…” Skjorn bent slightly at the middle, almost as if attempting something of a bow, when he had backed another step away, and, his ancient gaze came back up to find itself met with the woman’s dismissive glare burning into him… “Lady… Lady… Shyndyn…”
Another two steps staggered backwards seemed to assure the old man that he would be safe in turning around. He did so and, much more quickly and steadily than he had been when he had followed Death and his Mistress to the table, ambled as far away from that table as he could get without actually leaving the Albatross behind… he had a pouch full of Nyx’s gold to spend, after all, and, until he found a place better suited to spend it than the Albatross, he wasn’t keen on going elsewhere…. He thought he knew, now, why T’selika had put word out about him, though… and wondered what the bitch would pay to know what the mith’ganni was up to…
Posted on 2010-03-20 at 14:58:15.
Edited on 2010-03-20 at 16:01:53 by Eol Fefalas
Topic: The Skill Check Game
Epic Success: You moved so silently I didn't even see this thread for 14 days after it got posted
I make an Escape Artist check...
Posted on 2010-03-20 at 13:50:35.
Topic: ^ < V game
^ Banana Splits
< H.R. Pufnstuf
V The Bugaloos
Posted on 2010-03-20 at 02:08:53.
Topic: The One Word Game
Subject: The best known of whom was...
Posted on 2010-03-20 at 02:03:53.
Topic: Demonic Vending Machine
It spits out 52 Card Pick-up with painful consequences.
I feed it two months worth of round-about BS and politics, two sledge hammers, and a half empty pack of oreo cookies.
Posted on 2010-03-20 at 02:02:55.
Topic: Avatars, they can be of HUGE impact
I love the chocolately goodness of this thread.
Out of curiosity... can't we perhaps just resize the giant avatars as opposed to deleting them? Then we can ogle and set as default... Not saying I'm givin' up my groovy green and pink hat, though.
Posted on 2010-03-19 at 23:14:31.
Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Ta ma duh!
There I go gettin' shot agin!
Post from Sam by tomorrow... paperwork and contract transition at work has kept me tied up this week but I've stolen some free time, sneaked off with a cap'n and coke and am writing my gorram heart out, right now!
Posted on 2010-03-19 at 23:10:45.
Topic: where did the webmaster go?
Subject: Good vibes...
...out in the Universe for you and yours, as always, my friend.
Sorry that things have been so exceedingly horrible for you all of late and, of course, understand the reallocation of your time and attentions as is appropriate. We do miss you around here, though, and, like Meri, just seeing a recent post with your name on it brought a smile to my face and some small amount of peace in knowing that you're still with us.
Keeping my fingers crossed for you on the employment issue, too. Hope to see you again, soon.
Posted on 2010-03-17 at 23:02:38.
Topic: Dragonblood's Disappearance
...it's about time you checked in!
We all know how RL can get the best of us, DB, and keep us away for longer than we'd like. Never fear, though, mate, we'll always keep your chair warm and be waiting on ya when ya manage to get back.
Posted on 2010-03-17 at 16:17:55.
View/Edit Your Profile | Staff List | Contact Us