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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 8, 2010 15:06:12 GMT -5
(("Dodger. You're weird. Moving on!"))
"Hiding you away from those who might need you to help them." Dodger muttered near rhasping silence, his breath covering most of his words. Dodger did his best for his country, they weren't a prosperous people and they couldn't afford people keeping everyone behind. He came from a farming town and when they were behind with their crops, the neighboring towns would suffer for it and then they wouldn't get the materials they needed, they might not get any cloth to make new clothes and if magic users didn't offer their services then they held the ability to prosper to themselves. You could say there was a certain double standard to be held. To prosper because of one's magical abilities was frowned upon because you were using something that should save lives from Bettellian swords to help further your own health and if you succeeded and prospered because of your own personal merit then you were praised. Dodger didn't dwell on that though. He just remembered the waves of soldiers coming to the town's rescue, every single one of them wielding some form of magic in their veins and stronger than the enemy for it. He had a friend when he was younger- he liked to think the kid was among those proud ranks of their saviors that day.
Serving in the Virisean military was an honor that many people wished for and few got, and then the only people who were blessed enough for the opportunity were too thick skulled to see it and too selfish to do their duty. This Whitte was just another example of it.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 8, 2010 20:52:29 GMT -5
Devshiva did not catch the words. Between the rasp and mutter and the strange accent, Dodger's contribution was incomprehensible to him. It would take a while for him to get used to their individual speak. He ate his otter without comment, thinking. It was born into him, into the men. Magic worked in magic ways. Floht was not IreDahlin. It did not lock away its witches, families hiding them so that they were not killed. There, 'witch' was an insult, a curse.
"Why did they lock you away? Why do you not remember it?" he asked, trying to place the pieces of story. Dodger's mood had darkened. Virisea, he had said he had been from. Perhaps a town in IreDahlin? But did not make much sense, idle speculation. After all, he sought a healer to find a cure for the plague, and that was magic as sure as ground was wet.
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Post by Arual on Dec 8, 2010 21:04:12 GMT -5
"The process is an excruciating, and heavy burden. Eye color, sight, and hearing had been altered......you ran a high fever, and often were extremely ill. Most of the time, if someone wasn't held in one place while the change happened, it can be the difference between a mass murder or a troubled spirit for the one who's going through the transformation. Most people have chosen to not die. So they locked me up so I wouldn't hurt anyone in my family." Whitte was thinking deeply about it. He saw images of his own change- how gruesome it was.
It's taken five of those eleven years to master the emotional stress. He's fine now, but full moons are the worst. He felt sick, the pain from inside tearing him apart internally; but nothing he hadn't felt before. It would subside eventually, the young man knew it. "I agreed to it, after a while, knowing that I wouldn't want to hurt my family if I could help it."
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 10, 2010 18:36:10 GMT -5
Ah yes, the excruciating pain of changing eye color. Dodger said nothing and the before comment was sarcasm for those incapable of picking up on it over it's delivery in text. He remained silent, however and listened to the two speak, finally finding a topic he had no wish in wanting to be a part of in the conversation. He ate in begrudging silence, picking away at his otter and fish meat and to an extent wishing that he had been given more.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 11, 2010 17:45:12 GMT -5
"And now?" Devshiva asked, his flat voice taking a darker turn. "You travel alone, Whitte. Are you dangerous?" Whether he be stripped of mask and name, he was unchanged still. He was leading them into the city where the innocent people teemed, after all. Innocent as children were innocent, in that they had never known any reason to fear, that they never had reason to suspect that wit would not raise them from all of their problems, in that they never had reason to believe that even the filthiest people could not be shined to reveal at least the basest amounts of human decency. He would not be the one to splash doubt across that. It was the most beautiful and fragile piece to have ever been sculpted.
He noted, also, that it seemed while one spoke with him the other was silent, cut off, not even listening, as if they believed the conversations he had with them must be private. Devshiva felt as if he had spoken to both of them at a distance. When Dodger spoke with him, Whitte withdrew. When Whitte spoke with him, Dodger withdrew. He could hardly call it speaking with both of them. Perhaps a custom of their lands? If so, a cold one, with a chance of becoming frustrating in the long run.
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Post by Arual on Dec 11, 2010 18:47:34 GMT -5
"No, I'm not dangerous. But the full moon can make that a little less reassuring, as cliche as it sounds. "In order to make sure the towns around us were not being threatened by those who couldn't control themselves when they became wolves, there is a test we all are required to take. If we pass, we can return to our usual lives. The newer you are to the shifting, the more times someone will check on you to make sure you're honing in skills to keep the blood lust isn't taking away the ability to reason." Whitte had finished his food now, looking over to Dodger, and seeing the distaste towards him.
"They told me that before any of the shifters can go back to 'normal life', we must kill someone first with only one strike. If we can control ourselves around the blood, and not lose our sanity in the process, then we were free to go. Especially in our inhuman form; the sight of blood, let alone the smell, can easily make us forget that we aren't animals- we're human. The strength of the animal and its instinct is only as powerful as we allow it. Too little and the shifter can burn internally from limbo. They aren't quite either man or beast, and they aren't powerful enough to keep the shift bound to their own will in one form of the other. However; too powerful, and it takes a great deal of damage to stop us from killing anything and everything around us. We are too overwhelmed to rationalize." In the distance of his mind, he could hear the screams of many from that night. "It seems pathetic, easy, even- when you here it like that. One strike, and you're fine. But when you're up against twenty others....people you know and grew up with....it's a whole different mindset. They set it up for when you least expect it to happen......you haven't a clue as to whether or not this is real danger, or it's a test. Well, until morning comes."
"It isn't because I'm dangerous that I'm by myself. I passed the test ten years ago. I travel alone because I've just wanted to see the sights, not just what my country had- but others, too. I was on my way to meet my older sister Valleri and my Uncle when I got sidetracked here. "
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 13, 2010 11:05:55 GMT -5
Cliche? Devshiva did not know what was meant by that. Were they talking about something else now? Whitte spoke in 'we' often, hinting that his homeland was host to many Moon Demons, perhaps organized. He would have to eventually send out a request for an investigation force, anonymously of course, to learn more. Ignorance was a weapon they used, not a spear they fell prey to. Hair would be dyed, and Guards sent out into the world without their masks.
However, he listened to the rest of the conversation with growing steel. He paused a moment, trying to see a way the accent might have made him mishear, but no other words made sense in the context Whitte presented. Devshiva began to hide the traces of the fire, his face cold, his voice chiller still. "That does not seem pathetic or easy to me," he said shortly, even brutally, eye not deigning to look upon him.
"You are yet another product of twisted Drylander conditions," he continued harshly but always coldly. He motioned for them to gather up their things. "It would have been best for you to have been killed when we first met. I owe my life to you now, kinslayer." A fact he did not seem remotely happy with.
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Post by Arual on Dec 13, 2010 11:31:19 GMT -5
"Not kinslayer, Devshiva." Whitte said. "To everyone's distaste- I killed a murderer that was running from authorities in our land instead of a family member that I cared much more about. Of the few wolves in my homeland, I am the disgraced one for not following the rules accordingly."
"If for that you lose respect towards me, if there was any at all, understand that between family and a killer- I chose the one who committed horrible crimes towards others. Perhaps here there's a difference, but where I am from.....not all guards and watchmen that are meant to preserve life actually make sure the wrongdoers get punished. I was young and in a lose lose situation. I still pay for it eleven years later."
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 13, 2010 22:14:01 GMT -5
"So!" Dodger spoke up, "Dev, here is disgraced for a HEALER AND FAMILY KILLING SPREE he was framed for... and Whitte here is disgraced for killing a murderer for some reason and you know what? I like pie. Do you like pie? Maybe we could find an inn somewhere around here that has some pies, probably stuffed with otters or fish or something, considering the wildlife..." Abrupt subject change was abrupt because there was only so much self-loathing someone could take experiencing in one day and Dodger had just about reached his limit. "Maybe pocket cakes." he muttered, "When I was younger, my mother made pocket cakes stuffed with fruit and nuts." he explained, "Made them better than anyone else I've ever met. Do they have inns in swamps? I don't imagine they'd necessarily have many people traveling." he spoke quickly and in a rhasp that got more pronounced the more he spoke. They needed something else to speak of, I mean really. It was nice you wanted to talk through your problems and everything, but not all at once... please...
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 14, 2010 0:53:05 GMT -5
Devshiva was of the opinion that if there were problems, it was better to get them out all at once rather than letting them fester around and slip out in bits between the ages. But that was beside the point. Looking at Whitte, he shook his head.
"You say much but very little of what needs to be said," he commented, serious but not as harsh as before. It seemed he might be smiling, or at least there was less of a frown.
"You," he said, looking at Dodger, "are trying to be funny, are you not? Your humor is strange. I have no idea what you're talking about." Dodger also spoke a lot, though it was either all right on track or either so far off track that he had trouble connecting it to any relevance.
"Come. By the end of the day, the ground will begin getting a bit drier. We are nearing the plateau." He began walking.
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Post by Arual on Dec 15, 2010 22:25:57 GMT -5
Whitte picked his things up and slowly got himself together and ready to go.
brainfart))
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 24, 2010 0:57:35 GMT -5
"Well... pie. It's a pastry... a crust filled with meat and vegetables and things... generally whatever's left over... like the liver and the heart and some of the bits that you don't usually eat on their own." he explained, following along, his voice in steady decline due to his refusal to let it rest. Something you would think a bard would take better care over though it seemed to be that after explaining the finer points of pies he was quite done with speaking for now and was rather set with walking for now with a tune playing in the back of his mind all the way, 'They tell a tale of a diamond egg, perfect and pure to fix any heartache- to give you a cure...'
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 26, 2010 22:48:49 GMT -5
"Like a ko, then, except wrapped in bread, not a yesee leaf." He would not eat a liver or heart alone? It likely had something religious to do with it, he figured. There was little difference between muscle and organ meat, after all. Perhaps he could find a pie for the two of them in the city; foreign things could be found there. Devshiva himself had been there before, but he had avoided people and concentrated mostly on getting his job done and leaving the alien place. Alien to him, a land of kind smiles and children playing in the streets.
The day went by with walking, Devshiva demanded as fast a pace as he felt he could. He had received worse injuries than the loss of an eye. If he could remember to keep his gaze relaxed, pain did not burn him, which was helped by the wrap that kept it closed and covered. His headache was fierce, however, and resisted his attempts to ignore it. An hour before sunset, they had reached thicker ground. Slick leaves glistened in the knee-high mud, sucking at the feet and making each step something of a fight.
There was a high, animal cry in the air about them, answered by another. Devshiva stopped.
"Redsetters. That is their hunting call. They do not usually hunt humans, however..." That call was very close to them, and the Lady shifted her seat upon his back. He felt badly about this. Yet another cry responded. Three of them, too close. They avoided humans. They weren't today. "Get ready," he said, an air of old command in his voice.
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Post by Arual on Dec 27, 2010 17:14:12 GMT -5
Whitte got an arrow ready, looking around and listening for the footsteps of the Redsetters that seemed to be closing in on them. "How dangerous are they, exactly?" he asked, not sure what to expect.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Jan 1, 2011 21:07:52 GMT -5
Dodger looked around to his traveling companions, drawing to press his back to a tree, one side he didn't necessarily need to keep watch over. He looked over the area quietly, relatively hoping someone would say that they weren't much of a threat at all- you know, it's just a playful sort of creature. That would be nice. Sort of really nice, actually. He had no weapon, which was less than what he might have liked to have. Why didn't anyone give him something? Well- it was good to know they didn't trust him with sharp objects, they really cared- but maybe they had a bit too much faith on how light he might be on his feet if it came to something such as that.
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