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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 7, 2010 15:02:45 GMT -5
Devshiva did not seem as badly effected by this bravado as the sentences before, in fact the bard finally seemed to entertain him. His laugh appeared more natural, accompanied by a smile, though his eyes were cruel and pitying as well as amused. "...self defense? Blow for blow? You have never lived in a drowning country, bard," he said, quite literally pitying the fool. Maybe envying. Then, more sharply, "Adra, no."
A woman rose out of the water to the left, a hollow reed in her mouth and soaking dead plant material littering her cream-colored hair. In her left and right hands were a mask and a knife, respectively. "Not yet?" she asked, rather put out.
"Not yet. He probably will need his intentional words when we reach the city," he said ironically, the smile lost again. "In twenty four hours we'll take a rest, and you can do something less permanent to him; your face needs washing." She looked guiltily down to her mask, washed clean of blood by her sojourn under the waters, and disappeared back into the shadows.
"Well, he only needs one eye..." she muttered petulantly, to the amusement of the others.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 7, 2010 15:52:56 GMT -5
"Well!" there was a bit of nervous laughter, "For the tongue remaining in my mouth, it seems to be that I owe you." he nodded slowly, making a glance towards where the woman had shown herself. Adra... he took note. Someone to watch out for. "And I am quite grateful to you for it... although even more grateful and in your debt it I might make it out without any bodily losses of outlets." he crossed his arms over his chest as he continued on his way, the song still buzzing in his head. A funny little song, a drinking song actually... one he picked up in Santosai. It was a happy tune, about their festival dedicated to Piran, a lusty, drunken occasion where masks were commonplace in use for anonymity. Something that was commonly made fun of in little ditties as such. This particular song had a man finding a woman and taking her about town and ending in the bedroom, only to find it was his mother at the end of the night.
"And to your assumin'... I haven't been in a swamp such as this before." he trudged onward and making his way to walk side by side with their guide... or captor... whatever you wished to call him, "Though I do hear there's a mighty fine mire to the southwest of Bottleneck." he shrugged. "In all honesty, I'm not too fond of it and I have no real idea of how I got around here in the first place.... if you could lead me out then I promise you I won't be makin' fast plans to return... and I'd be kindly obliged to offer a reel or two, although I must inform you I sing much better while entirely intact." he glanced back towards Whitte, "I'm sure you can understand."
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Post by Arual on Nov 7, 2010 16:03:37 GMT -5
Whitte could have smacked his head with his hand when the bard spoke again. Could he NOT talk as much? Instead, he let a faint sigh out while to took another step forward. He could hear the voices, and let's just say that he wasn't excited to hear what he did.
This isn't looking good, and that fool in front of me is going to make this all worse! he thought.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 7, 2010 16:48:57 GMT -5
Cowardly or brave, this one could not make up his mind. Loquacious, wheedling, seemed more a merchant than a bard. Though both robbed you of something, true enough. The other one was quieting; he had learned his lesson better than the one that had been strung up. Devshiva walked faster as Dodger caught his side, figuring that if he quickened to pace then the mouth on that man would tire sooner.
"Perhaps I'll hear you sing eventually. We're accustomed to the Old Woman's voice, however. You heard her song last night. But we've heard many imitate her as well; wholeness and wellness have a habit of detracting from the realism of the performance."
(We can skip to twenty four hours later soon, when we would be halting to rest. The only reason we were moving for that long was to exhaust you guys, why yes. Who needs sleep?)
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 7, 2010 17:41:57 GMT -5
Anyone was a merchant when they were faced with the possibility of bartering for their life. "And a broken body and tattered self distract me from my business of living a happy life." he shrugged his shoulders before pausing as if something had struck him in the back of the head and he looked around himself at the border of masks. "I'm sorry." he muttered, quiet as if he thought of something dreadfully sad and he kept his apology too silent for anyone to hear it. "Just how far is the next town...?" twenty four hours was a long walk... a lot of travel and they wouldn't even meet their destination, if they were making camp, then again- they were headed to the capitol... there were probably quite a few towns along the way.
Whatever thought had occurred to him seemed to shut him up quite efficiently, looking down to the ground quietly, deep in thought. "Whitte." he called out to the stranger, looking back, though whatever dialogue it was a precursor to seemed to die away and he just kept looking up at the circle of masks, presumably representing where people were. He wasn't any more scared than he was before, but there was something new there in his eyes, he was wondering now about these people. Outkin? Probably not, these people were suspiciously malicious... but the thought of those people struck him pretty hard anyways... even if they weren't likely anything the similar. Chuckling slightly he quickened his pace, keeping up with Devshiva. "If Whitte didn't come to find me, or wasn't... lead to me... would you have let me drown?" he asked tentatively, thinking as he spoke rather than before... and putting some serious thought down here as he looked to the circle once more.
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Post by Arual on Nov 7, 2010 19:25:30 GMT -5
Whitte didn't speak, only walked. A twenty four hour walk........meant to wear us down, otherwise they wouldn't bother with this at all. They had the chance in a instant to kill us while we didn't know where they were.......but they didn't. These guys want to test us, or play around with our head, either way, I have to conserve energy and keep calm. If I worry, then my judgement will be too fuzzy that I won't keep track of what's going on. I need to keep my head on straight.
Then they stopped. Finally they took a rest, and the truth would be found out....worse, what time it was was impossible to figure out. The trees covered it in almost an eternal night.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 7, 2010 22:14:30 GMT -5
Devshiva glanced back, at an angle where his light eyes shone in the sockets of his mask. "Of course," he responded shortly, as if that was obvious, before walking again. If he had noticed Dodger's sudden change of attitude, he had done so only silently, and made no remark. Twenty four hours later, after journey that left everyone soaking and freezing, with bruises from unseen roots and pulls and mud in every inside and outside of every seam (the mosquitoes were rather busy as well), they company halted on a large stretch of high ground, quite dry and full of short, happy shrubs, a few trees to anchor it down.
Devshiva and the others started three fires, set out in a triangle, and half of the group hung their wet clothes in the space in the middle to dry. The other half, including Devshiva himself, washed out the clumps of mud and gunk but stayed wet.
"Lareg, leech," one of the undressed ones said, now only in boxers, a chest-wrap and a mask. Another man, quite large and the owner of the deep voice, made a sound of irritation and found it, hanging quite happily onto his wrist. He wedged a fingernail under its mouth and then flicked it off, sucking at the small stream of blood that came from it.
"Hey Adrarda, didn't you need to wash your mask?" he taunted, holding up the small wound.
"Give me the leech and we'll call it even," she retorted.
"Sleep well; this break won't be long. We will reach a town at noon today and there you can have a real rest," Devshiva said to the two, his tone not quite clarifying the meaning of that last sentence. He seemed almost bitter, reluctant. The sun was set to rise in perhaps four hours.
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Post by Arual on Nov 7, 2010 22:18:59 GMT -5
This last mentioning bothered Whitte. They werent saying a nice inn to stay at was up ahead, there was something more rotten in place for them, cruder than that. He sat down, eyes shut, but not sleeping, his senses alert and only allowing his body to erase the strain from the traveling. His hands didn't let go of his weaponry, mind in a buzz.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 7, 2010 22:50:15 GMT -5
Dodger's mind was foggy and his legs felt weighted down as he looked at all the fires quietly and on a new precaution, not entirely fueled by conscious thought or even rational thought, he began sluggishly crawling through low-lying tree branches and working his way up until he was well wedged in the branches and in his mind, safe. It was something you learned when you traveled around Vundarst as while dangerous things were on the ground and in the air- if you were in a tree you were only succeptable to one of the two. Ever since the instance with the Tyrzian Crawler he didn't like leaving it up to chance- and he didn't want to find out if they had bog maw problems here... he heard they were nasty creatures.
'Lareg...' he thought quietly to himself, drowsily, the thought barely there at all... 'Adrara.' he ammended as well, his head resting on a wooden branch. Sleep... sleep was good... yeah.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 7, 2010 23:25:43 GMT -5
A few of them made snide comments about the ready bow and the tree squirrel, laughing. A few of them took their places around the fire to discuss, quite casually talking about the two as if they weren't there, though it was later on in the night. Lareg began, murmuring something not quite hearable, and Devshiva reacted negatively, shaking his head.
"...couldn't hurt an otter...about as threatening as a leech," his calm voice decided. "Parasites, at worse."
"Damseg leeches, Devshiva," Lareg growled, volume going up with his irritation. "Remind me what we owe parasites? Salt them and watch them them throw up blood. The Old Woman wants sport."
"Not necessary," Devshiva replied in disgust. "I would let ...... up half of them if.... ...... carried away."
"Death now or later, the Keeper knows these people have no dependents if they're out here. So why not now, Devshiva?" There was undisguised eagerness in Lareg's voice, and Devshiva paused for a moment as if caught under it's spell.
In the silence that stretched, it seemed as if he would agree; he could not say no but could not forever say nothing. However, one of the younger ones, Eliaile, was just the pushed into the fire by Adrarda, swearing and having little luck rolling to put it out. Devshiva stood suddenly and walked over, kicking Eliaile casually in the stomach, causing him to freeze and ball up in shock, and throwing him into the water. He looked back at Lareg, eyes flat again.
"Curb yourself," he said shortly, and Lareg scowled, rolling over to sleep.
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Post by Arual on Nov 7, 2010 23:32:57 GMT -5
Whitte listened in on the conversation, the smell of fire on flesh coming into his nostrils as he sat there relaxing, not trusting them enough to fall asleep completely. Not in this situation. The young man's hair had slowly began to stick to the sides of his face from the temperatures and high heat of the swamplands, the cotton shirt uncomfortable even without the vest. They want to know what to do with the Dodger fellow, but I don't think they've once considered me since yesterday when we were just captured. That could be bad....but it may not be. Tomorrow will expand the truth in their words, if nothing else. Ambush or trial, either way I'll have to fight to get out of here.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 8, 2010 0:41:38 GMT -5
"Dodger..." there was knocking on the solid oak door as the woman called into the room, "Dodger, come out of there!"
"No!" he groaned, pulling the sheets further over himself, "If I wanted you here then I would have asked." he rolled over in his bed, the old frame creaking as he did so, his face buried in his thin pillow. He was pale and sweating with fever, in fact he was so warm that he could only stand hiding underneath the fabric of his bedspread but for so long and when he did reveal himself, there was a twiggish blonde woman standing there as fierce as any monster Dodger had ever heard of.
"I don't care if you want me here, you can't-" she stopped when she rolled him over, seeing him laying there... under his eyes were large dark gray marks to show his lack of sleep and the only color on his face was the bright pink bloomed on the apples of his cheeks from fever, otherwise he was like ivory laying there. "You look like hell." she muttered, placing a hand to his forehead.
"And you're not a red sunset, yourself." he croaked, a thin lipped smile on his scruffy face. The woman he spoke with wasn't a particularly pretty woman, rather she seemed almost sharp, not a bit of softness about her, the wit in her smile was piercing and the glint in her rather unremarkably brown eyes was like steel.
"You just shut up and get some rest, okay?" she shook her head, looking at him with pity, "You'll be better in no time." she smiled and patted him roughly on the head, almost as if she genuinely didn't care if she caused him much harm or not and then she wiped the sweat from his sickly brow onto the sheets. "I'll be back in a few moments." she noted with a smile.
Inside of Dodger there was an edge like something was about to happen though admittedly it showed little with how he was so weakened with illness. Confined to his bed he stared at the ceiling trying to will himself to sleep but it didn't seem to work no matter how he might have tried. He wasn't a person who got ill frequently and never could he recall being this ill. It would figure, too... today was the day that it was expected that a caravan would come through from along the border, bringing new goods for the market... at least he thought it was today... he didn't know how many days had passed since he'd first fallen ill. Suddenly and almost without warning he began wretching and he doubled over, emptying contents from his stomach he didn't think he still had by this point and they spilled over himself but he was far too exhausted to deal with it and in a rather pathetic state, he lay there soaked in his own vomit.
Perched in his little spot in the tree, Dodger twitched slightly as his mind relayed through the memory quietly and from his lips you could hear a small whimper as it progressed onwards to something much more terrible than just an illness.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 8, 2010 9:41:29 GMT -5
There was a fierce heart in killing, better than what most people knew. It went beyond pleasure, nothing could compare to it. The body and mind knew, under layers of culture, taboo, and morality, that killing was right. If one could let go of those others, which would barb the soul, it really became a pastime of choice. Torture and pain were a laugh here, everything was, really. That was their culture, separate and terrifying to some.
Devshivavihsved, do you know what irony is? A hand on his shoulder; he was fifteen. A dead man was at his feet. He had not killed him. He was not expected to yet, no more than Eliaile was now. He had said no, though he did in a way, but he did not feel like embarrassing himself in a half-thought explanation.
Irony is the humor in something unexpected. The shock of it is hilarious. This man had no idea what he was running into, coming here. He believed that justice and his country would protect him no matter where he went. And now he is dead. It totally reversed expectations. So laugh, Dev, isn't that astounding?
Devshiva tried. He really did try. He dislodged small chunks of laughter from his chest, spitting them out in a repeated, hollow chuckle. But he stared at the body.
Another shoulder clap, walked away. Left him with a corpse. Can't manage even a smile? Well that's okay, Dev, it will come with time. It's a bit in the gallows, if you'll forgive the pun, but you'll get there without any help from us.
Irony... thought Devshiva. Irony is protecting a people by killing them. Irony is ensuring peace through torture. Irony is that this is right. He laughed for real now, and nothing maniacal. A short bought of genuine, pleasant laughter at some witty joke. Who on earth had come up with it?
There you are! someone called.
Devshiva awoke with the dawn; he did not remember dreaming. Half their party, those still dressed minus himself, would remain here and rest. They were not superhuman, and forty hours of hard activity with no sleep was tearing at them. They could manage it if they had to, but they had no love of going into any town. He did not blame them. He and the group who had taken four hours with the prisoners would go on and stop at the town. There was one nearby, and they would have seen the fire signal this morning, and put out another to correct their direction. It was a cloudy night, so the lack of stars might have put them a little off.
He tapped the whimpering songbird in their tree and then the wary cat on the floor telling them to get up. He also put a large can of clean water besides each of them. "Three minutes until we move."
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Post by Arual on Nov 11, 2010 18:33:27 GMT -5
When noise started to be made by those who would journey with them to the city, Whitte opened his eyes and looked around. His muscles felt stiff as he stood, but it was alright- for now. The chance they had any left over water to give them before this all began again was little, or at least that he could tell.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 11, 2010 20:04:28 GMT -5
The first signs were when they came stumbling up to the main square, smelling of woundrot and illness... they weren't traders, they were refugees and the whole town of Borroughbrook was moving about in a tussy to tend to the poor tired people, Dodger confined to his bed as he lay there, only getting knowledge of what was happening outside from what was relayed to him by those more healthy such as the lovely Lander, herself. Sleep seemed to be a mercy that nature wouldn't allow him, even if he felt like his eyes were being struck with needles and his mind was sluggishly devoid of sensical thought. He needed to be awake, he couldn't seem to find slumber no matter how much he searched for it.
At a tap, he awakened with a start, wretching from soggy lungs, his hands clasped over his mouth. He wasn't one to wake up well it seemed and he wiped his hands off on his pants before looking around to catch his bearings. 'move minutes we three' he spent a few short moments, possibly a whole one of his precious minutes deciphering what was being said and altering his memory to put them in order before he slid down from the tree.
In a frivolous waste of resources he poured an amount of the water over his head, wiping away dirt and grime as well as vaulting him further awake and then what was left he drank greedily, trusting it to be clean as it looked to be quite clean. His head felt full of hot brands and his attitude was much like the horse that kicked him. "Breakfast?" he asked to the air, hoping someone knowledgable to the workings around here would respond in kind and tell him whether or not he'd be given something so kind as that as well.
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