The bard slams into his room at the boar and throws himself into his chair, tears of frustration fleck cheeks red with anger.
He had left the dingy mess of his room some hours earlier, his demons soundly chased. A week or more he had spent, his brain lolling aginst the slack jawed, window licking temper of his memories. He had shaved. He had washed. He was most certainly sober as he escorted aching limbs to the warmth and smells of a fine summer day.
He had smiled and jollied at the children lurking near the hospital as he capered by, to the old lady at the well he jangled a happy salute, then he paid a visit to the scandalous gnome.
Even her evil wrapped in tradesmans blanket had not faultered his step as he bantered lightly her way, tambourine tinkling its soft song. He had watched with some small amount of satisfaction, the pain that ghosted her expression as he rhymed...but such was his duty.
In good temper he left the shop and stepped up to the small crowd lurking about Popper's Rock.
His greeting smile, prance and wave brought no response so, with no alternate path open, he had bid good day in his own lyrical manner. As soon as the words had finished dancing from lip to ear he could tell today's was going to be a rough crowd; hecklers and hawkers.
Amid the usual quips, and he had grown acustomed to such razor wit as the normal adventurer presented, he sensed a darker tone. These were not simply the usual dismayed responses, but threats were being levelled. "No matter", he had thought, "I am safe in such a group", it being large enough that, should anything arise, it would be quickly dispersed.
The next thing he new a great pain shot up his back and he sank to his knees with a dismayed clatter and passed out. He lay on the ground, barely aware of the world around him as he was stripped bare and his beloved tambourine removed from his person.
With a gasp he opened his eyes to look into a not unkindly face, obviously weary from performing the magic that still crackled about him.
He sat up slowly, and took stock of his surroundings. Still at Popper's, sun seemed to be in the same place..not long had passed, the group were still standing around but now their faces were creased with mirth.
Waking up and realising you are near naked in front of a group of strangers, obviously enjoying themselves at your expense was not the greatest of experiences he had the pleasure of remembering. He rose and demanded his attire, receiving more abuse in return. One man in particular, bearing a halberd; the one who had issued threats earlier, had it and would not give it back. He even doned it and pranced a silly dance in it.
He cursed them all to suffer at the hands of Nergal.
Eventually, with some prompting he was flung his robes, and he stepped into them quickly, no words.
It is funny how realisation takes hold, a slow building to a peak. He turned on his interloper and demanded the return of his instrument. The man mearly took it out and banged it as loudly as he could making the Bard wince and hold out his arms in submission and dismay.
Anger took him and he stepped up to the thief and struck him across the face.
When he awoke once more, before his eyes he could see only her's. The blank stare that had haunted him for a week... for a year.. had torn at his soul. He shook his head and the same worried looking man had cast more magic and he sat up, nodding again his thanks for such aid.
The thief had gone, only a man in black and a scantily clad wench stood by, both from the earlier party.
The man in black held out the tambourine and despite his beseeching, simply struck it hard and walked around with it.
In a fury and despair, his mind realing, his head spinning, he turned and ran, his tambourine left tarnishing in some other hand. He felt sick as the bile burnt a bitter wake into his mouth and he hunched, mouth open; gagging as he rounded the corner and sped past the well.....
What simple pleasure people gain,
When they humble, mock, humiliate,
They satisfy upon the pain,
Their wicked nature satiate.
And lo fair mob you're work is done
Disrobed and robbed, you've seen my bum,
my sexuality called to question
I hope you choke on your own pretentions.
You saw me mugged, you left me nude,
and just because I did intrude?
A simple day it was before
I took that breath, stepped out the door
And offered up a simple greeting,
The welcome hail that disturbed your meeting
Well worry not I'm quick of learning
In future I'll just start avoiding
I must admit to shock at such lack
of help forthcoming after clear attack..
*Narrator*
He trails off into silence and stares into the gloom,
the evening sucking the life from the room
For sometime he just sits there, gaze unshifting
till slowly a grin spreads on the face he is lifting.
A sulphurous match flaress gaudy and yellow
and the room springs to life as it touches the tallow
from out a pocket a crumpled note is produced
and he regards how it comes to this, of how hes reduced,
but he sucks back his pride and sets flame to his conscience
too late little villager, no time for repentance..*
For you inbred hicks my pity is brimming
Lock up your pets and secure your women,
Well worry not those daintiest heads,
For soon you will find yourselves to be dead
He looks at the note in his hand and straightens it further, picturing the three faces that mocked him, lingering on their sneers and that glint in the eye, at the treatment of the instrument, at the source of his humiliation. He found the note weeks back in the forest, pinned to a tree for all to see and out of interest, after all he was documenting the life of the village, he had pocketed and it had remained there ever since.
Along with complicated instructions as to contacting the author, it offers services. Unique services. And at the top it bares a name..........
Nobody to blame....but yourself
Moderator: Lords of The Realm
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
Nobody to blame....but yourself
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
lankycheese
- Forum Troll
- Posts: 1150
- Joined: Wed Apr 21, 2004 6:13 am
- Location: AUSTRALIA!
- Contact:
Padril sits on Popper's Rock twirling the tamborine in his hands. He did this for several hours each day keeping a look out for the bullied bard that appeared in the village that day. For once in his life Padril actually felt guilty.
The rogue had not done much to torment the bard, infact he enjoyed his antics and had no problem with his lyrical commentary of the village people. But once Heaven handed him that tamborine he just had to hit it, and as hard as was possible. This seemed to be the last straw for Mr Bard as he took off after that. Padril searched frantically that afternoon for the bard to give back the instrument, but he was gone. Nowhere to be found.
Still Padril keeps an eye out in the village for Mr Bard, the tamborine will be returned one day, and of course he will zap Lee on the ass for being such a git.
"Bah stupid paladin has rubbed off on me!"
Definatly zap Til too....
The rogue had not done much to torment the bard, infact he enjoyed his antics and had no problem with his lyrical commentary of the village people. But once Heaven handed him that tamborine he just had to hit it, and as hard as was possible. This seemed to be the last straw for Mr Bard as he took off after that. Padril searched frantically that afternoon for the bard to give back the instrument, but he was gone. Nowhere to be found.
Still Padril keeps an eye out in the village for Mr Bard, the tamborine will be returned one day, and of course he will zap Lee on the ass for being such a git.
"Bah stupid paladin has rubbed off on me!"
Definatly zap Til too....
Tilirinn Showra, Paladin of Marduk, Kingseeker Knight of Dasaria.
Padril, Sharpshooter of Daris.
Padril, Sharpshooter of Daris.
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
A complicated process followed.
The initial note demanded a message be left in a certain discrete place, containing just one word, to be picked up later after he had vacated the area. Next he waited in the rain in the pre dawn gloom. A messenger had arrived, emerging from the bleak landscape and handed him a closed tube container, leaving immediately, silently, drifting out of existence as subtly as he came.
The tube was wax sealed and sloshed slightly as it tilted. He could not imagine what might be concealed but stowed it into his robe and made his way back to the boar.
Under the soft light of a single candle he sat and examined. the carefully, holding it upright, broke the seal. Nothing happened so he lifted the top half. It removed like a sheath, covering a longer bottom section and it came away slowly with a popping sigh. In his hand he now held an open topped cylinder, about three quarters the size of the whole, like a phial, in which sat a roll of parchment completely covered by a green hued, viscous liquid; like honey.
Standing he went to the little table with wash bowl and pitcher and emptied the liguid into it, using a gloved hand to hook out the note and unroll it.
"You have about two minutes, so read quickly.
You will leave the village through the East gate and follow the road. You will cross a small bridge fording a stream, you will reach a forest and under those boughs head to the south. There is a mine entrance.
You will go there tomorrow before dawn, before the light begins to turn and you will wait. You will be alone. You will be watched.
If you are not alone when met, you and your companions will die. If you are followed, death will not be quick."
He turned the note over but nothing was on the back, no signature, no markings. As he turned it back and began to read for a second time, the writing started to fade, small holes appeard across the surface as the missive began to ooze and melt in his hand. Trying to let go he found it stuck to his glove and it collapsed on itself to cover the fingers and the soft leather on the back of the hand, emitting a foul smell and a hiss.
Using the other hand he quickly removed the now puckering leather glove and carefully dropped it into the pewter wash bowl and watched solemnly as it disolved into nothing. Effective means of covering tracks, if not a little drastic, he considered how things may have fared if he had not worn his gloves.
Turning back to the small table he sat and stared, stroking the material of the surviving glove as the candle guttered and dripped until he finally removed himself to the bed.
The initial note demanded a message be left in a certain discrete place, containing just one word, to be picked up later after he had vacated the area. Next he waited in the rain in the pre dawn gloom. A messenger had arrived, emerging from the bleak landscape and handed him a closed tube container, leaving immediately, silently, drifting out of existence as subtly as he came.
The tube was wax sealed and sloshed slightly as it tilted. He could not imagine what might be concealed but stowed it into his robe and made his way back to the boar.
Under the soft light of a single candle he sat and examined. the carefully, holding it upright, broke the seal. Nothing happened so he lifted the top half. It removed like a sheath, covering a longer bottom section and it came away slowly with a popping sigh. In his hand he now held an open topped cylinder, about three quarters the size of the whole, like a phial, in which sat a roll of parchment completely covered by a green hued, viscous liquid; like honey.
Standing he went to the little table with wash bowl and pitcher and emptied the liguid into it, using a gloved hand to hook out the note and unroll it.
"You have about two minutes, so read quickly.
You will leave the village through the East gate and follow the road. You will cross a small bridge fording a stream, you will reach a forest and under those boughs head to the south. There is a mine entrance.
You will go there tomorrow before dawn, before the light begins to turn and you will wait. You will be alone. You will be watched.
If you are not alone when met, you and your companions will die. If you are followed, death will not be quick."
He turned the note over but nothing was on the back, no signature, no markings. As he turned it back and began to read for a second time, the writing started to fade, small holes appeard across the surface as the missive began to ooze and melt in his hand. Trying to let go he found it stuck to his glove and it collapsed on itself to cover the fingers and the soft leather on the back of the hand, emitting a foul smell and a hiss.
Using the other hand he quickly removed the now puckering leather glove and carefully dropped it into the pewter wash bowl and watched solemnly as it disolved into nothing. Effective means of covering tracks, if not a little drastic, he considered how things may have fared if he had not worn his gloves.
Turning back to the small table he sat and stared, stroking the material of the surviving glove as the candle guttered and dripped until he finally removed himself to the bed.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
He awoke early, much earlier than was required, jerking upright from a dream; sweating. He cast about and groped for the candle at his side, striking light and applying it with trembled hand to the wick.
He controlled his breathing and held himself to stop the shaking. She was never far away now. His resolve of a few days previous, the new man he had felt he had become was gone. Darkness settled across his mind, an eerie fog he could neither peer through nor walk around.
He cocked his head as if listening, and gave two jerking nods. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he paused to press balled fists to each eye and rub, splaying fingers across his cheeks and dragging the skin downwards as he yawned.
He washed from the pitcher, unsure as to how to dispose of the green sludge now discolouring the pewter, pouring water over his head and scooping handfuls to tired eyes.
You still return my love
though I desire not the manner,
across the depths you swam
by my side to linger further.
Though escaped death's rasping touch
Cold fingered tears
slip from you ever more.
Dry your eyes love
For I am in sore need of guidance.
Finishing his ablutions he dressed and blowing the flame from the candle moved to the door. With a final look back into darkness he closed the door and stepped towards the stairs.
The journey was relatively easy, and surprisingly short; he would have expected more distance between the meeting and the village. His only strife occured when he had to run from lurking wolves, the pack howled their attendance and gave chase forcing him to beat them to death with his club. He was lucky they were young and not fully pack trained or he may have been dinner. Ruffled and slightly sticky he welcomed the stream, though bitterly cold it cleansed the worst of the gore from his person.
The forest loomed ahead, uninviting and silent, one faultering step at the border and he was in. It was a good thing he left so early, for he lost his way, taking longer than he should to find the mine entrance.
Once there he stood still, ears straining, senses twanging, the creak of his jaw filled his ears and he opened his mouth to keep such sounds at bay. Then as instructed, he waited.
He controlled his breathing and held himself to stop the shaking. She was never far away now. His resolve of a few days previous, the new man he had felt he had become was gone. Darkness settled across his mind, an eerie fog he could neither peer through nor walk around.
He cocked his head as if listening, and gave two jerking nods. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he paused to press balled fists to each eye and rub, splaying fingers across his cheeks and dragging the skin downwards as he yawned.
He washed from the pitcher, unsure as to how to dispose of the green sludge now discolouring the pewter, pouring water over his head and scooping handfuls to tired eyes.
You still return my love
though I desire not the manner,
across the depths you swam
by my side to linger further.
Though escaped death's rasping touch
Cold fingered tears
slip from you ever more.
Dry your eyes love
For I am in sore need of guidance.
Finishing his ablutions he dressed and blowing the flame from the candle moved to the door. With a final look back into darkness he closed the door and stepped towards the stairs.
The journey was relatively easy, and surprisingly short; he would have expected more distance between the meeting and the village. His only strife occured when he had to run from lurking wolves, the pack howled their attendance and gave chase forcing him to beat them to death with his club. He was lucky they were young and not fully pack trained or he may have been dinner. Ruffled and slightly sticky he welcomed the stream, though bitterly cold it cleansed the worst of the gore from his person.
The forest loomed ahead, uninviting and silent, one faultering step at the border and he was in. It was a good thing he left so early, for he lost his way, taking longer than he should to find the mine entrance.
Once there he stood still, ears straining, senses twanging, the creak of his jaw filled his ears and he opened his mouth to keep such sounds at bay. Then as instructed, he waited.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
He waited for a long time, the darkness replaced by the dullness of overcast dawn, everything assuming a tone of grey, all colour bled from the world.
He ached from standing, his neck hurt from the tension, his mood already sour had started to putrify. He went rigid as something sharp was pressed into his kidneys
"Follow me"
The voice came from near his waste and as he turned he saw a vague shape disappearing towards the East once more. He scurried to catch up. They followed the rock wall from the mine until they reached a second opening and the slight character moved inside. He took a deep breath and followed.
Ducking through the opening they headed down an incline to the cave floor and there he jumped as a lantern was uncovered and a small shaft of light gave their presence some identity.
"you wished to hire the services of professionals"
The voice was cold and each word sounded like a verbal sneer.
"Indeed I do that much is clear
I seek to right a wrong
the other day whi......."
"what are you doing?"
He stopped and looked at the figure and opened his mouth a couple of times then began to speak once more
"you speak in that manner again and I'll remove your tounge, I have no time for games you simpering fop"
His brow creased and his head hung forward slightly, then for the first time in over a year he spoke normally.
The conversation was brief and to the point.
"so..let me get this straight. You want the return of a musical instr...*waves hands* no...of a tambourine, you wish two of those that belittled you to be taught a lesson, but not killed, and this fool with a halberd to...disappear?"
He looked up and straight into the eyes of his love, lurking just behind and above the other's head. She nodded her approval.
He confirmed the plans softly at first, then proclaiming it so in a louder, clear voice.
"Indeed. It will cost you. The price is non negotiable, the work will be done quickly and efficiently, but will be done when we see fit at our timing."
The price was stated. His mouth gaped in dismay, he did not have that kind of money, he had no friends that could lend it to him.
"do I strike you as someone who becomes moved by sad stories, will be prompted into helping you out just because you look like that? Cry! It would be a bonus. Do you have any idea how much work is involved in such an undertaking? No, I thought not.... Well, what do you own?"
He pulled out his purse and tallied up.
"That will get the tambourine and one person dealt with. If you have no preference then the choice will be made for you.
The little stranger tapped what would have been the side of his nose if it were not covered by cloth.
"we may be able to negotiate the rest of this deal, maybe. The work will be done, all of it. The price will be the same, but you will do things to pay off this debt.
He asked what things would be required.
"simple things *snarl* nothing that will be too taxing I assure you *simpering mimsy voice* nothing to damage those delicate little hands. Gathering information, acts of simple intrusion into peoples lives and scuppering plans. It should be an easy job, find something that is happening and become the fly in the ointment. Who would suspect the poor defensless bard, publically humiliated and weak as a pussy cat? Yes...you will do this. you may be contacted with more specifics as I'm sure to know more of what is happening than you anyway"
He asked how long this debt would take to pay off.
"depends on the quality of the work doesn't it?"
She nodded her approval again, which surprised him, she was normally more cautious than this.
"then we have an agreement. We will contact you. Now get out"
The lamp was covered and the cave plunged into darkness once more. He turned, slightly bewildered at what he had got himself into and headed back up the ramp towards the light.
"oh, one thing..."
The call came just as he reached the exit, prefectly timed, he looked back but could see nothing.
"you think of running off without paying and you can rest assured the debt will be collected in full....I'll kill you."
No further words seemed forthcoming, so he turned and made his way back to his room.
He ached from standing, his neck hurt from the tension, his mood already sour had started to putrify. He went rigid as something sharp was pressed into his kidneys
"Follow me"
The voice came from near his waste and as he turned he saw a vague shape disappearing towards the East once more. He scurried to catch up. They followed the rock wall from the mine until they reached a second opening and the slight character moved inside. He took a deep breath and followed.
Ducking through the opening they headed down an incline to the cave floor and there he jumped as a lantern was uncovered and a small shaft of light gave their presence some identity.
"you wished to hire the services of professionals"
The voice was cold and each word sounded like a verbal sneer.
"Indeed I do that much is clear
I seek to right a wrong
the other day whi......."
"what are you doing?"
He stopped and looked at the figure and opened his mouth a couple of times then began to speak once more
"you speak in that manner again and I'll remove your tounge, I have no time for games you simpering fop"
His brow creased and his head hung forward slightly, then for the first time in over a year he spoke normally.
The conversation was brief and to the point.
"so..let me get this straight. You want the return of a musical instr...*waves hands* no...of a tambourine, you wish two of those that belittled you to be taught a lesson, but not killed, and this fool with a halberd to...disappear?"
He looked up and straight into the eyes of his love, lurking just behind and above the other's head. She nodded her approval.
He confirmed the plans softly at first, then proclaiming it so in a louder, clear voice.
"Indeed. It will cost you. The price is non negotiable, the work will be done quickly and efficiently, but will be done when we see fit at our timing."
The price was stated. His mouth gaped in dismay, he did not have that kind of money, he had no friends that could lend it to him.
"do I strike you as someone who becomes moved by sad stories, will be prompted into helping you out just because you look like that? Cry! It would be a bonus. Do you have any idea how much work is involved in such an undertaking? No, I thought not.... Well, what do you own?"
He pulled out his purse and tallied up.
"That will get the tambourine and one person dealt with. If you have no preference then the choice will be made for you.
The little stranger tapped what would have been the side of his nose if it were not covered by cloth.
"we may be able to negotiate the rest of this deal, maybe. The work will be done, all of it. The price will be the same, but you will do things to pay off this debt.
He asked what things would be required.
"simple things *snarl* nothing that will be too taxing I assure you *simpering mimsy voice* nothing to damage those delicate little hands. Gathering information, acts of simple intrusion into peoples lives and scuppering plans. It should be an easy job, find something that is happening and become the fly in the ointment. Who would suspect the poor defensless bard, publically humiliated and weak as a pussy cat? Yes...you will do this. you may be contacted with more specifics as I'm sure to know more of what is happening than you anyway"
He asked how long this debt would take to pay off.
"depends on the quality of the work doesn't it?"
She nodded her approval again, which surprised him, she was normally more cautious than this.
"then we have an agreement. We will contact you. Now get out"
The lamp was covered and the cave plunged into darkness once more. He turned, slightly bewildered at what he had got himself into and headed back up the ramp towards the light.
"oh, one thing..."
The call came just as he reached the exit, prefectly timed, he looked back but could see nothing.
"you think of running off without paying and you can rest assured the debt will be collected in full....I'll kill you."
No further words seemed forthcoming, so he turned and made his way back to his room.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
((Been a while, so this stuff is just filling in the gaps - so this happened before the recent events in the character mentioned's life))
Dim light, it seemed that the world held a shroud about it's shoulders these days. A continual gloom inside his head; through his window. He held his head in his hands, it pounded, his brain was trying to escape him in disg.ust he was sure.
He had walked back in something of a daze, a wholly sureal experience. Now he felt clearer than he had in days. He had arranged for the intrusion into three lives, one fatally so.
Ha, so what? He kept on saying it hoping that it would make it all ok. They deserved it. Well they did didn't they? After what they had done? Didn't they?
He stood up from his chair and made his way out to the village, for air, to clear his head, to try and take his mind off things. He closed the door with a solem click and taking a deep breathe made his way down the stairs and through the bar. He was far to preoccupied to notice how people wrinkled their noses and stepped back as he passed.
She had not made an appearance since the cave, he ground his teeth, made herself scarce pretty quickly hadn't she? She was as much involved as he, she had nodded and he'd....well....he'd just agreed hadn't he? He shook his head. Too much. Too much to take in just now. Better to just walk.
As usual, the meandering brought him upon Popper's rock, a small group had gathered there. The woman who's life was now forefit stood in conversation. He did not caper, the prance completely gone from his step, he did not rhyme a greeting. He mearly stood and watched. Took in the view. How soon would there be silent step into that world, of the figure's before him, what would happen?
He felt a breath on his neck and spun, she stood at his shoulder looking intently at the scene, her eyes did not leave the victim.
"Its not too late is it? It doesn't have to happen" he hissed.
She said nothing, just continued to stare, the set of her brow, the gleam in the eye, the slight curl to the lip were enough of a response.
He paced back and forth, two steps one way, two steps back, his agitation as gaudy as the robes that hung from his ever thining frame..when was the last time he'd eaten? He shook his head feeling himself drifting. He wrung his hands, and patted the side of his head with the underside of his knuckles on the palm side of his hand, quick taps, a rapid tatoo as if trying to dislodge something.
He crouched down and wrapped his arms around the backs of his knees, each hand clasping the opposite elbow tightly. From this crouched position he bounced, jumping heavily and slowly, his head bowed. He couldn't think, he just....couldn't....think. It was as if his head was filled with a noise that embraced each thought, cloaked it, painted it, and left nothing but the image of her.
He straightend abruptly, turned on his heal and walked away, leaving her to such obvious visual pleasure.
Dim light, it seemed that the world held a shroud about it's shoulders these days. A continual gloom inside his head; through his window. He held his head in his hands, it pounded, his brain was trying to escape him in disg.ust he was sure.
He had walked back in something of a daze, a wholly sureal experience. Now he felt clearer than he had in days. He had arranged for the intrusion into three lives, one fatally so.
Ha, so what? He kept on saying it hoping that it would make it all ok. They deserved it. Well they did didn't they? After what they had done? Didn't they?
He stood up from his chair and made his way out to the village, for air, to clear his head, to try and take his mind off things. He closed the door with a solem click and taking a deep breathe made his way down the stairs and through the bar. He was far to preoccupied to notice how people wrinkled their noses and stepped back as he passed.
She had not made an appearance since the cave, he ground his teeth, made herself scarce pretty quickly hadn't she? She was as much involved as he, she had nodded and he'd....well....he'd just agreed hadn't he? He shook his head. Too much. Too much to take in just now. Better to just walk.
As usual, the meandering brought him upon Popper's rock, a small group had gathered there. The woman who's life was now forefit stood in conversation. He did not caper, the prance completely gone from his step, he did not rhyme a greeting. He mearly stood and watched. Took in the view. How soon would there be silent step into that world, of the figure's before him, what would happen?
He felt a breath on his neck and spun, she stood at his shoulder looking intently at the scene, her eyes did not leave the victim.
"Its not too late is it? It doesn't have to happen" he hissed.
She said nothing, just continued to stare, the set of her brow, the gleam in the eye, the slight curl to the lip were enough of a response.
He paced back and forth, two steps one way, two steps back, his agitation as gaudy as the robes that hung from his ever thining frame..when was the last time he'd eaten? He shook his head feeling himself drifting. He wrung his hands, and patted the side of his head with the underside of his knuckles on the palm side of his hand, quick taps, a rapid tatoo as if trying to dislodge something.
He crouched down and wrapped his arms around the backs of his knees, each hand clasping the opposite elbow tightly. From this crouched position he bounced, jumping heavily and slowly, his head bowed. He couldn't think, he just....couldn't....think. It was as if his head was filled with a noise that embraced each thought, cloaked it, painted it, and left nothing but the image of her.
He straightend abruptly, turned on his heal and walked away, leaving her to such obvious visual pleasure.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
He found himself against the door of the Boar, he rested his forehead against the oak and stood still, not even breathing. In that moment there was no thought in his head, no vision at his eye, a perfect moment of peace.
The door opened and he stumbled headlong into the bar, regaining his balance with liberal use of a dwarven head.
Apologies later he jerked towards the stairs, to the fragile sanctuary of his room. Once there he lay face down in the bed and covered his head.
He heard the door click and thought it was her trailing in.
"Finished have you?"
He uncovered his head and rolled off the bed. The room was vacant. He stared for a moment trying to think if he might have mistaken the noise.
"It is time"
He jumped so hard he ended crouched like some feral animal in the corner of the room, shuddering wide eyed. The figure seated on the end of the bed regarded him with disdane.
"Get. Up."
He slowly slid himself upright using the wall as balance.
"What...err...what are...er...why are you here?"
The figure stared at him but said nothing, he felt compeled to fill the void, with the only thing that occupied his mind.
"I've changed my mind, I don't want to go ahead with it"
She was suddenly there, sitting behind him on the bed, a face like the worst storm this century. He closed his eyes, but before he could continue the visitor spoke.
"I don't think you quite understand. We have an agreement. We have a deal. When you enter into a contract with somebody, you don't get to walk away once it has begun. A lot of time and effort has already been put into this venture for you. More than has been received in payment so far. Already you owe."
His mouth moved up and down but no words would come. Behind him She was shaking her head. He rubbed his stubble and looked to the ceiling, he could think of nothing to say, what could be said?
"And it is time for you to make a payment....I have a little task for you..."
The door opened and he stumbled headlong into the bar, regaining his balance with liberal use of a dwarven head.
Apologies later he jerked towards the stairs, to the fragile sanctuary of his room. Once there he lay face down in the bed and covered his head.
He heard the door click and thought it was her trailing in.
"Finished have you?"
He uncovered his head and rolled off the bed. The room was vacant. He stared for a moment trying to think if he might have mistaken the noise.
"It is time"
He jumped so hard he ended crouched like some feral animal in the corner of the room, shuddering wide eyed. The figure seated on the end of the bed regarded him with disdane.
"Get. Up."
He slowly slid himself upright using the wall as balance.
"What...err...what are...er...why are you here?"
The figure stared at him but said nothing, he felt compeled to fill the void, with the only thing that occupied his mind.
"I've changed my mind, I don't want to go ahead with it"
She was suddenly there, sitting behind him on the bed, a face like the worst storm this century. He closed his eyes, but before he could continue the visitor spoke.
"I don't think you quite understand. We have an agreement. We have a deal. When you enter into a contract with somebody, you don't get to walk away once it has begun. A lot of time and effort has already been put into this venture for you. More than has been received in payment so far. Already you owe."
His mouth moved up and down but no words would come. Behind him She was shaking her head. He rubbed his stubble and looked to the ceiling, he could think of nothing to say, what could be said?
"And it is time for you to make a payment....I have a little task for you..."
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
The visit had been brief, he was soon left alone in the room, she must have slipped out with the halfling as he stared floorwards, numbed by the frosty bite of the instruction he had received.
He had learned the woman, Heaven apparently, had been sick in the hospital, something to do with poison and was not being targeted yet...something about not worth chasing a lame doe. He thought he understood.
The others were being watched.
And now he had a task. He put his head in his hands and rubbed them across the greasey skin of his forehead slowly, switching to use the knuckle of his thumb grinding into each eye socket. His mouth gaped in a long yawn and he stretched; a head shaking tightening of every muscle that left him feeling weak and giddy when it was over. Lying back on the bed he passed out as head touched the cloth.
He dreamed. Walking through the forests, capering along the little paths, enjoying the sound of the birds and the smells of the summer. She was with him too. They looked at each other and laughed as they moved. Then he awoke.
There was a knock at the door and he rose heavily to get it, his body fighting to get back to sleep. At the door was the woman, all he could do was stare at her, looking into black eyes. A noise behind him turned him on the spot, and on the bed sat the man in black that had not given back his instrument. No word issued, just a look of distaste.
"Look...." he began to stamer, but in turning back to Heaven he faced the window, and what was coming through it made his stomach turn. The 'Ling had returned carrying something in his hand. As he approached he raised his arm and the slack eyed gaze of the man who had knocked him out looked back.
He sat upright in bed panting, damp and looked about. The room was empty, he breathed out heavily and lay back.
Turning over to face the wall, his knees brought up to his chest, he sobbed into his pillow.
He had learned the woman, Heaven apparently, had been sick in the hospital, something to do with poison and was not being targeted yet...something about not worth chasing a lame doe. He thought he understood.
The others were being watched.
And now he had a task. He put his head in his hands and rubbed them across the greasey skin of his forehead slowly, switching to use the knuckle of his thumb grinding into each eye socket. His mouth gaped in a long yawn and he stretched; a head shaking tightening of every muscle that left him feeling weak and giddy when it was over. Lying back on the bed he passed out as head touched the cloth.
He dreamed. Walking through the forests, capering along the little paths, enjoying the sound of the birds and the smells of the summer. She was with him too. They looked at each other and laughed as they moved. Then he awoke.
There was a knock at the door and he rose heavily to get it, his body fighting to get back to sleep. At the door was the woman, all he could do was stare at her, looking into black eyes. A noise behind him turned him on the spot, and on the bed sat the man in black that had not given back his instrument. No word issued, just a look of distaste.
"Look...." he began to stamer, but in turning back to Heaven he faced the window, and what was coming through it made his stomach turn. The 'Ling had returned carrying something in his hand. As he approached he raised his arm and the slack eyed gaze of the man who had knocked him out looked back.
He sat upright in bed panting, damp and looked about. The room was empty, he breathed out heavily and lay back.
Turning over to face the wall, his knees brought up to his chest, he sobbed into his pillow.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
whiteguyinblues
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 689
- Joined: Tue Mar 11, 2003 2:02 pm
- Location: USA
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
((I'm glad 
))
Morning tugged his lids in greeting. He cracked them open, the thin film at the corners breaking away, brow furrowing as he squinted away the stabbing of the light.
He sat up and remained motionless for a time, waiting for his eyes to adjust, for his head to clear, to decide what he was going to do.
He stood on unwilling legs and moved to the wash bowl, the water in the pitcher cold and uninviting. The bowl itself was marked heavily, the poisoned sludge that had been left in there and disappeared by itself, breaking down and shrinking over a couple of days, he had still scrubbed it carefully before using it again. The pewter had been eaten; bleached clean and pitted. He had not washed properly in days, he could smell himself, sticky sweet and strong. His face sported the early growth of a beard, having moved passed stuble, his hair unkempt and wild, hugging his head in lank, greasy tails. A tuneless murmur was all that issued from his cracked lips, no music since his vow broke.
A splash of water to his face woke him more fully and he picked the fleks from the corners of his eyes, buried in the crook of his nose. His meager ablutions concluded he straightend and left.
His task was onerous, he did not even begin to know how to proceed, it was just so unreasonable. What had he ever got himself into? He could see no way out. He knew who he had to find, but had no idea where...was he to wait in the same spot all day? He took a glance through the murky pane to the village below. From this level he could nearly see all the way to Poppers, but for the top corner of the hospital jutting into the way. He could sit here all day and watch and still miss the main movement along the village road. With no other choice open he left.
Poppers was unusally quiet, the throng had yet to present itself at this early hour. He stood with hands on hips and stared about him. She was standing there and waving to him, he raised his hand slightly at the wrist and made a little motion with his fingers. She was making shallow jumps, arms outstretched above her head and pointing with both hands to her left. He glanced in that direction and gawped before he could help himself. There was his quary, and she was being so blatant! He made cutting gestures with his hands, looking down and away shielding his face with the other hand. What was she trying to do to him? He walked into the Gnome's shop just to give himself a minute.
He sat on one of the chairs and put his forehead cupped in his hands, elbows still on knees, legs jiggling.
"are you buying or bouncing"
Looking up at the gnome he gave a thin smile but shook his head.
"out'
He got up and gingerly stepped back out, peerng round the door as her went. Big breath out in relief; she had walked off, and the man in question seemed intent talking to a slender Elfling. He swallowed and moved a little closer.
Realising he stood in the middle of the path, with no cover and no obvious reason, he hastened over to lean against a nearbye lamp post.
"...Ivy...."
He grasped the lamp post shaft feeling slightly sick. Already... He had hoped to go days without anything, that he would be noticed and the man would begin to avoid him. Such was his luck of late; this was not to be the case. He continued to listen to the conversation.
After a time he leant forward, hand still clasping the post, and let his weight hang on the outstretched limb. He found comfort in such things these days, of the simple strainings of the body, they cut off thought. He realised what he was doing and quickly moved away without a glance back.
))Morning tugged his lids in greeting. He cracked them open, the thin film at the corners breaking away, brow furrowing as he squinted away the stabbing of the light.
He sat up and remained motionless for a time, waiting for his eyes to adjust, for his head to clear, to decide what he was going to do.
He stood on unwilling legs and moved to the wash bowl, the water in the pitcher cold and uninviting. The bowl itself was marked heavily, the poisoned sludge that had been left in there and disappeared by itself, breaking down and shrinking over a couple of days, he had still scrubbed it carefully before using it again. The pewter had been eaten; bleached clean and pitted. He had not washed properly in days, he could smell himself, sticky sweet and strong. His face sported the early growth of a beard, having moved passed stuble, his hair unkempt and wild, hugging his head in lank, greasy tails. A tuneless murmur was all that issued from his cracked lips, no music since his vow broke.
A splash of water to his face woke him more fully and he picked the fleks from the corners of his eyes, buried in the crook of his nose. His meager ablutions concluded he straightend and left.
His task was onerous, he did not even begin to know how to proceed, it was just so unreasonable. What had he ever got himself into? He could see no way out. He knew who he had to find, but had no idea where...was he to wait in the same spot all day? He took a glance through the murky pane to the village below. From this level he could nearly see all the way to Poppers, but for the top corner of the hospital jutting into the way. He could sit here all day and watch and still miss the main movement along the village road. With no other choice open he left.
Poppers was unusally quiet, the throng had yet to present itself at this early hour. He stood with hands on hips and stared about him. She was standing there and waving to him, he raised his hand slightly at the wrist and made a little motion with his fingers. She was making shallow jumps, arms outstretched above her head and pointing with both hands to her left. He glanced in that direction and gawped before he could help himself. There was his quary, and she was being so blatant! He made cutting gestures with his hands, looking down and away shielding his face with the other hand. What was she trying to do to him? He walked into the Gnome's shop just to give himself a minute.
He sat on one of the chairs and put his forehead cupped in his hands, elbows still on knees, legs jiggling.
"are you buying or bouncing"
Looking up at the gnome he gave a thin smile but shook his head.
"out'
He got up and gingerly stepped back out, peerng round the door as her went. Big breath out in relief; she had walked off, and the man in question seemed intent talking to a slender Elfling. He swallowed and moved a little closer.
Realising he stood in the middle of the path, with no cover and no obvious reason, he hastened over to lean against a nearbye lamp post.
"...Ivy...."
He grasped the lamp post shaft feeling slightly sick. Already... He had hoped to go days without anything, that he would be noticed and the man would begin to avoid him. Such was his luck of late; this was not to be the case. He continued to listen to the conversation.
After a time he leant forward, hand still clasping the post, and let his weight hang on the outstretched limb. He found comfort in such things these days, of the simple strainings of the body, they cut off thought. He realised what he was doing and quickly moved away without a glance back.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
He returned to the village from the East, he was not entirely sure where he had been, but the club hanging limply between his fingers sported the marks of the recently deceased, he wiped it absently on the bottom of his robe; the mess mingling easily with the resident grime.
He found himself making for Peribos again, and stood by the over worked notice board. The red haired man was still there, but this time with a young girl, his heart slumped along with his shoulders and he screwed up his eyes as though it might make them disappear. His disappointment was acute when he peered out once more.
He listened to the child talking to...to her father no less. The young girl whitterd on, and the father answered candidly. In no time at all he had discovered all he needed to know, as though he had taken Lady Luck for his bed mate, how cruel could life be?
At some point She stepped up to stand by his side. He whispered to her for advice, what could he do? What would she do? How could he end this? She said nothing and he became enraged. This was her fault too. She seemed to neither care about it or him. Why was she not the one dancing at the end of puppet strings? Why did she act so innocent? He started to throw his arms about emphasising his point, hissing at her in an attempt to keep his voice down.
A tall man in black noticed him and came over, said something but it went unnoticed. Without a look or aknowledgment he turned and walked away, from her rather than the stranger, he was so infuriated he wanted to push her over, but he didn't; she might go away again.
His eyes shone as they began to water, his emotions more taught than a violin string, his mental state not capable of carrying him through all this, he wanted to curl into a ball and lie down. He hummed from the back of his throat into his nose, a deep, single toned drone, its vibrations making the tip of his nose itch, but filling his head with a welcome absence of anything else.
In this manner he slouched his way back to his room to wait for the little bastard. He already knew what his next move must be.
He found himself making for Peribos again, and stood by the over worked notice board. The red haired man was still there, but this time with a young girl, his heart slumped along with his shoulders and he screwed up his eyes as though it might make them disappear. His disappointment was acute when he peered out once more.
He listened to the child talking to...to her father no less. The young girl whitterd on, and the father answered candidly. In no time at all he had discovered all he needed to know, as though he had taken Lady Luck for his bed mate, how cruel could life be?
At some point She stepped up to stand by his side. He whispered to her for advice, what could he do? What would she do? How could he end this? She said nothing and he became enraged. This was her fault too. She seemed to neither care about it or him. Why was she not the one dancing at the end of puppet strings? Why did she act so innocent? He started to throw his arms about emphasising his point, hissing at her in an attempt to keep his voice down.
A tall man in black noticed him and came over, said something but it went unnoticed. Without a look or aknowledgment he turned and walked away, from her rather than the stranger, he was so infuriated he wanted to push her over, but he didn't; she might go away again.
His eyes shone as they began to water, his emotions more taught than a violin string, his mental state not capable of carrying him through all this, he wanted to curl into a ball and lie down. He hummed from the back of his throat into his nose, a deep, single toned drone, its vibrations making the tip of his nose itch, but filling his head with a welcome absence of anything else.
In this manner he slouched his way back to his room to wait for the little bastard. He already knew what his next move must be.
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
-
journeysend
- Dasarian
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Tue Apr 12, 2005 2:28 am
- Location: fol de rol de rol do'ing down the lane
Alone amongst the crowd
hearing whispers through the din,
nobody here but stangers,
and the quiet sulk of sin.
A task I undertook, once,
put feet upon a path unknown,
still the body has found no haven;
at the end it journeys alone.
He had not rhymed since his oath he shattered. He tentatively struggled his way through the lines, each one sticking in his brain until it manifest as a blackend mess of crossings and scawls on the parchment, as over and again they were reworded. He gnawed the end of his quill and spilt ink, a peice of bread hardened on a fogotten plate, lost amidst a sea of discards.
Eventually he put his hand to his forehead and the manic bustle subsided. It was no good....it was just no good.
A single tear fell.
She cupped his head in her hands and raised it. For a moment he could do nothing; sat impotent. A smile broke his face in two, the joy in him could not be stemed. She had not touched him since she...since her...in a long time and he shivered at the contact. His concerns fell away as he was consumed in the moment, his troubling meeting forgotten at the union.
----
Sometime later Morin paused as she busied around the bar. The filthy jester had just appeared from the stair well and was making his way through the throng. He looked different today. Still as dirty, face unshaven, but with a more able look to him. On the odd ocassion she had seen him before he had looked like he was barely able to stand, now at least he walked upright. Though a flicker of concern touched her as she noted something slightly less mundane about his current behaviour.
----
Some moments after the bard made his way outside a shadow entered and slipped up the stairs
hearing whispers through the din,
nobody here but stangers,
and the quiet sulk of sin.
A task I undertook, once,
put feet upon a path unknown,
still the body has found no haven;
at the end it journeys alone.
He had not rhymed since his oath he shattered. He tentatively struggled his way through the lines, each one sticking in his brain until it manifest as a blackend mess of crossings and scawls on the parchment, as over and again they were reworded. He gnawed the end of his quill and spilt ink, a peice of bread hardened on a fogotten plate, lost amidst a sea of discards.
Eventually he put his hand to his forehead and the manic bustle subsided. It was no good....it was just no good.
A single tear fell.
She cupped his head in her hands and raised it. For a moment he could do nothing; sat impotent. A smile broke his face in two, the joy in him could not be stemed. She had not touched him since she...since her...in a long time and he shivered at the contact. His concerns fell away as he was consumed in the moment, his troubling meeting forgotten at the union.
----
Sometime later Morin paused as she busied around the bar. The filthy jester had just appeared from the stair well and was making his way through the throng. He looked different today. Still as dirty, face unshaven, but with a more able look to him. On the odd ocassion she had seen him before he had looked like he was barely able to stand, now at least he walked upright. Though a flicker of concern touched her as she noted something slightly less mundane about his current behaviour.
----
Some moments after the bard made his way outside a shadow entered and slipped up the stairs
~Journeyman of the Dark Lyric ~
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey
bard of no repute and lesser talent.
Roses are red,
my blade's name is Huey,
Look wrong at me twice
and I'll make you all gooey