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| Face your Fears [O]; Open; | |
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| Topic Started: Fri Aug 12, 2011 9:01 pm (629 Views) | |
| Auron DeBrouchet | Fri Aug 12, 2011 9:01 pm Post #1 |
 
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The camp was at peace, and despite claims of recurring nightmares, business went on as usual. Men and women went about various tasks, all dressed in their leathers and motley assortment of steels, weapons of choice on their person. One man with a sizeable battleaxe was busy splitting wood. A lanky, ratty-looking bandit was carving a bowl out of a block of roughly-chopped wood. A cooking fire was set up and burning hot. This particular camp had been thriving for years, long since having set up permanent housings. Life went on, much similar to town activity. The only difference was the practice they built their economy on. A small group approached from the east, five men and a woman jovially bouncing a couple of purses and a few pieces of leather armor, very basic pieces common of merchants and travelers. The largest of the men, resembling an ox, carried a chest on his shoulders. As they approached the area, their voices became audible. “... haul today. Just gotta get Jay to pawn off what we've got, and we'll be well-supplied for a while.” The woman spoke, voice lilting and jovial. Cade found it grating. The boy sat in a tree, legs swinging back and forth. Leaning forward and pushing off, he landed on all fours with hardly a sound, save for the leaves rustling underfoot. In front of him, the bandits stopped. Ox, as Cade decided to call him, cocked an eyebrow, jerking his chin at the boy. “What's your business out in the middle of the woods, son?” One of the unremarkable men drew a dagger, frowning. “Could be a trap. I say we kill him. Nobody has to know. We could bury him in the woods.” The woman chopped her hand at him. “Nobody's killing anything. We don't hurt children. Remember we don't bring about violence if possible. We don't want guards getting off their asses to hunt us down. Nobody's hurt, we stay under the radar.” She brushed her bangs from her face, squatting down. “What's the matter, son?” Cade's eyes grew large at the man's statement, stepping back. Ready to run away, the woman's tone caught him by surprise. He hesitated, looking at her and to the woods. “Come on over. I won't hurt you.” The dark-haired child lowered his gaze, shuffling forward. “I.. I don't know where I am.” He admitted, mumbling under his breath. “You can come with us, love.” The woman spoke softly, lifting a hand, pausing. “May I?” She asked. Cade nodded shakily. She ran her fingers through his hair, combing out the leaves. The man who had voted to kill him stepped forward, hand on his hilt at his belt. “This is crap. It's a setup. If none of you want to get your hands dirty, I will.” He slowly began to draw his dagger. The child locked eyes with him, icy blue gaze piercing his, giving him pause. |
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| Shan Orison | Wed Aug 31, 2011 8:33 pm Post #2 |
 
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Shan was first worried when he stumbled upon what was probably supposed to be a hidden camp of bandits, but they were actually a rather welcoming bunch of marauders and thieves. Granted, part of it was most likely because Shan held nothing of value besides his violin and wanted nothing more than perhaps a hot meal and a place to sleep in exchange for live entertainment. Thus, the two parties got along smashingly. Shan played for a bit, but they most loved his stories, which were many and astonishing. Granted, they were also all mostly true, but he'd found people accepted them more if they were just fancy bardic tales. Most likely he'd be playing more as people filtered back into camp with whatever ill gotten gains Shan wasn't going to think about and the ale started flowing. For now, a small group sat around him while others performed their duties nearby, listening to his tale of the Traveler escaping with a former slave and his powerful but injured companion from a Drow temple in the heart of their city. Far better sounding than Shan, a golem, and a zombie girl fleeing for their lives. Some commotion occurring at the other end of the camp caused Shan to end his tale early to investigate. Another group had gathered around a small boy with leaves in his hair. The air felt tense for the appearance of such a young child. One of the women knelt near the boy and brushed leaves from his hair. Shan arrived just in time to hear one of the larger bandits say, “This is crap. It's a setup. If none of you want to get your hands dirty, I will.” He began to draw his dagger. Shan, not really thinking through the action beyond the immediate result, placed a hand on the man's arm, the other grasping his violin and bow. "What precisely is wrong with you?" Shan asked. "He's a young boy. What fear do you have from him being here?" The man grunted and turned his attention to Shan. "I barely tolerated you showing up, Bard, and that was just because I knew we could handle you easily if you tried anything." He turned the entirety of his muscled bulk toward Shan. "And now both you and this brat show up here? I'm callin' that suspicious. How do I know the two of you aren't together?" "Ah, Um, we aren't, I assure you," Shan said, cringing and smiling nervously as his circled around. "It's just, really, he's just a boy, and perhaps your long, stressful day has worn your mind down. Why not bring him into the camp where you can watch him, give him something to eat and, if you're really uncertain, search the woods. Someone using a child as bait can't be that good at what they do." The large bandit sniffed, reminding Shan of a not quite charging bull. "We use kids a lot," he said. "I know how people drop their guard around kids. I'm not dropping mine." "Wow, that...That is really a hard, strenuous job you have. So many responsibilities and decisions to make. A horrendous strain on the mind, that is." The man now stood between Shan and the empty woods. He brought the violin up to his chin, rested the bow on the bridge, and smiled again. "Why not a relaxing song? You decide things best when your mind is clear, after all. And killing someone's a big decision. I mean, it's not like you can undo it. I mean, not usually. "Bard, I really think you think you're bein' the hero in one of your tall tales," the man growled. "Ah....I'm afraid you may be right," Shan said. And I really hope you aren't his second thoughts added. They always turn out messy. |
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| Blackwell | Wed Aug 31, 2011 9:55 pm Post #3 |
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The child bit his lip as the man spoke. “I don't know him...” He mumbled under his breath. The woman rested her hands on his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “I know, it's alright, love.” She said reassuringly. Glaring at the hostile bandit, she spat at his feet. The man growled at the bard's statement and the woman's stance against him. “All a bunch of kiddie lovers now, are we? Here I thought we were being professionals.” The man glared at the boy, knife clearing its scabbard. Cade averted his eyes, watching the bard as he lifted his bow to start a song. Triumphant, the man seemed ready to cease the fight. His eyes blanked for a moment before a new snarl cast his features into a cruel mask. “Is that a threat?” He hissed at the bard, raising his dagger. Cade cast a glance at the woman next to him, as if seeking protection. She clutched the boy closer, one of her hands leaving his shoulder to touch on the hilt of her rapier. “Not now, Claudius. We can deal with this later. Why don't you take a walk?” She glared at him. Huffing the man began to protest, but stopped mid-word, closing his mouth and expressionlessly turning away, stalking off into the woods. The woman looked troubled momentarily before turning to the bard herself. “My apologies, good sir. You've been nothing but a grace to our camp. I will deal with the man later. Shall we retire to the campfire?” She waved at the largest among them, the bull-necked man carrying the chest. He nodded silently and strode off to the largest of the tents, toting his loot. “I'm more tired than hungry...” Cade mumbled, shifting a rock with the toe of a ragged shoe. In the trees above, invisible and soundless, The true Cade watched with a smile, weaving his fingers. So far things were playing out well, building a promising foundation for later interest. His nudges to the bandits, reading their intentions and speaking in their minds, had directed this encounter exactly where he'd wanted it. The illusionary self he had below required minimal effort to maintain, a quiet, tired child didn't need to interact much. Overhead, he followed the man into the forest, waiting until he was just out of sight to cast another spell. The bandit grunted, kicking at a root, when the spell hit him, drowsiness falling over his mind like a blanket. He hit the dirt, deep in the throes of sleep. Falling to the ground, the hidden vampire placed a hand over the man's brow, shifting the dreams into something deeper, a blackness more enthralling than any dream. Satisfied, he returned to the gate of the camp, watching and controlling his illusionary puppet. |
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| Shan Orison | Wed Aug 31, 2011 10:52 pm Post #4 |
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The bard signed with relief when the matter ended without a fight. He'd really no clue what to do with the man did attack him. Well, he did have an idea, but he had none afterwards besides grabbing the boy and running. The woman bandit guided the boy toward the fire. Shan and few other by standers joined them. Despite the boys protests about being tired and not hungry, someone pressed a bowl into his hands and urged him to have some stew. "What was Boris's problem?" One of the men said. "We don't harm kids. Sure, we'll use our own for decoys, but we don't hurt kids." "He's been acting angrier each day," said the woman comforting the child. "I keep wondering when he'll blow his top. Imagine. Like a child as tired as this is going to cause trouble." Shan had to agree. The boy appeared listless, too lethargic to answer anything beyond the most basic of questions. He spooned soup to his mouth, but he didn't seem to be eating much of it. "You should eat up," Shan said with a grin. "I know you feel exhausted, but you'd be surprised how much fatigue can cover up hunger, even though most of it is probably caused by an empty stomach. "You must have been wandering quite a while on your own," he continued. He lifted his violin to his chin. "If you really are too tired to eat, how about a lullaby? Or whatever song you want to hear, I suppose. I know quite a few." There's something wrong with him.... his paranoia said. It was, as usual, ignored by Shan's more logical brain functions. Listen to your paranoia all day and you wind up worrying about shards of the sky falling and splitting your skull open to let loose the mind worms. Not a productive thing to do. |
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| Blackwell | Thu Sep 1, 2011 4:21 am Post #5 |
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The boy let himself be guided to the fire, yawning as he approached the warmth. Sitting with his legs outstretched and his cloak around his shoulders, he slipped his shoes off, resting his heels on them as he exposed the dirty soles of his feet to the flames. He sprouted a smile at the comfort, humming his satisfaction. Hesitantly, he took the bowl of stew an looked in, dipping a finger into the brown broth, fishing out a scrap of meat. Popping it into his mouth, he smiled and moved his jaw as if chewing, but kept the meat on his tongue. The boy looked around for a moment as they talked about the bandit, preoccupied with discussion. When he thought nobody was looking, he slipped the meat into a scrap of cloth, tucking it away in his cloak. Once he had it away, he drank some of the soup. “I'll try to eat some, then.” Cade beamed at the bard, taking a sip of soup. “Yeah, but it's only been a couple of days.” He nestled his head into the crook of the woman's arm, huddling up to her for warmth and comfort. The bard's offer seemed to make the child perk up immediately, life entering his features. “Can you? I'd love to hear one.” Merely a couple of yards away, the real cade stood, head cocked. He was curious to hear what the bard had up his sleeve. It was obvious he was skilled with the instrument, but what caught him most was that in the face of danger, he brought himself ready to play instead of preparing to fight. Looking up at the rising moon, the child closed his eyes and tapped his fingers on his leg, bowl of stew growing cool in his lap. Soon enough life in the camp would begin to dwindle, people were already setting up for the night. Once people began to head for bed, the fun would begin. He had the scenarios playing through his mind. |
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| Shan Orison | Thu Sep 1, 2011 1:39 pm Post #6 |
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Shan smiled and began to play a soft sweet melody. Even if it had only been a couple of days, that can be terrifying to such a young child alone in a strange woods. The bandit camp was probably his first sight and sound of any humans in all that time, making that one man's actions - Boris, was it? - even more reprehensible. It seemed the warmth of the fire and company had at least matched the rather shocking greeting from earlier. The boy smiled now, watching the moon and listening to the music. Shan would have to find out where the boy came from and try to get him back to his family. As kind as the bandits were, it would be best if the boy got back to his proper home, wherever that may be. With everyone but the angered Boris back in camp and the arrival of a tired child dampening the mood for any merrymaking, the bandits began to drift back to their various cots and beds. The woman who had been cradling the child offered to lead the boy to bed, but the child acted as if he preferred to stay at the fire. That was fine with Shan. He wasn't the best with children, but he could continue playing for him for a time. Eventually, even the bard's lids began to grow heavy and he settled down by the fire, placing his instrument lovingly in its case. "It's getting very late," Shan said, stifling a yawn. "I think almost everyone else is asleep. Best I find you somewhere to sleep, too. We can figure out where you belong tomorrow." The moon rested high overhead, glazing everything not touched by firelight with silver. It was a beautiful night to be out of doors, at least. |
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| Blackwell | Fri Sep 2, 2011 7:30 am Post #7 |
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Cade listened to the music with heavy lids, eventually drifting off. Noting this, the woman smiled and shook him awake gently. “Let's get you to a proper bed.” She began to pick him up. Shaking his head, he smiled. “I want to keep listening.” Cocking an eyebrow, the woman chuckled. “Very well then. As long as you get to sleep eventually.” She rose and stretched, wandering off to her own tent, eying the bard. “Mind nothing happens to him.” When the vast majority of the camp had retired to their beds, the illusionary Cade followed Shan to find a place to sleep, while the true Cade stalked off into the forest. Moments later, he waited with an open ear, continuing only when he was satisfied he would go unbothered. The vampire knelt down by the unconscious bandit, tearing his shirt away and using it to bind and gag the man. Lifting the knife from his belt, Cade waved his hand over the man's brow, releasing him from his weaving. His eyes slowly fluttered open, sharpening in the cool night air. His focus darted to and fro, searching for his assailant, who sat not a foot away. Cade leaned in, inhaling deeply, and drove the knife tip between two ribs, puncturing a lung. Twisting, he withdrew the dagger. The dirtiest of the work was done, all that was left was the fine points. Concentrating, he cast an illusion of the bard, looking palely at the bandit with a dagger in hand. The illusion dashed away toward the camp. Cade held the dagger aloft and made his way back to the camp, guiding his newer illusion while his younger self slept. Taking the dagger, he tucked it in with the bard's belongings, grinning as he made the false bard run from the trees and into the shadows near their position before disappearing. From a gap in the door of the larger tent, the bandit woman frowned as she saw the newcomer making his way through camp with a bloodied knife. She was prepared to let it go when a new, alien, and seemingly justified thought introduced itself. “Can he be trusted, though?” ((OOC: Cade's dashing about wreaking havoc. Stabbed the sleeping bandit and framed Shane with the real bloodied dagger and a guilty-looking illusion ^^)) |
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| Shan Orison | Fri Sep 2, 2011 9:15 pm Post #8 |
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Shan slept peacefully in an old lean-to on the edge of the camp, the young boy slumbering nearby. Shan felt he wasn't very good with children, and being looked up to even in so small a way was rather heartwarming. He was just beginning to dream when he was jostled away by some of the bandits. Still drowsy, his confused mind when through its usual waking checklist as he felt his arms secured behind his back and forced into the open: Am I alive? Do I have all my limbs? Where am I? Why do all these armed people look so angry at him? Granted, the last one wasn't asked too often, but it was certainly now at the forefront of his questions. "Wha..." Shan managed to say in his defense. He turned to see a man walking to the edge of the circle he found himself the center of and overturning his small pouch of worldly possessions, including some dried meat, a few broken crackers, a worn pen, and a knife coated in blood. "Just like you said, Mary," the man said, looking at the woman who was manning, so to speak, what Shan recognized now as an impromptu mob. Granted, a group of angry bandits could form a much more menacing mob on the fly than could a group of villagers. They had more than torches and pitchforks to fight with, for starters. "I'm convinced. I say we gut him right now." Shan realized the woman was the one at the forefront of the boy's defense earlier that evening. All the motherly kindness had been burned away by deadly fury. The look she gave him was filled with murder, which Shan never considered a good sign. "What...That's not my dagger! What am I accused of?" he asked. The mob still wasn't quite on the hair's edge of attacking. There were still many bandits on the edges who were as puzzled as Shan. The bandit Mary took a deep breath, as if she were willing herself down from a bloodrage. "I saw you walking into camp a little while ago carrying that same dagger," she said, with the calm of a volcano just before it buries the nearby village in fire and ash. "I realized that we don't really know a damn thing about you, so I went to investigate, especially since I remembered Boris had yet to come back. I found him out in the woods, bleeding to death and gasping for air. You didn't finish him off, and he told me it was you that stabbed him and left him for dead." "What? Is he still alive?" Shan asked. Really? You're concerned about the child-murdering bandit at a time like this? his second thoughts said. "Just barely." "Let me see him! I can help him!" Shan said. Someone behind him stuck him in the kidney, and he fell to his knees gasping in pain. "Like I'm going to let his wannabe murderer near him now? Unlikely." Mary said, the voice of the mob. "I didn't...I wouldn't..." Shan managed to gasp out. "Please...believe me...." Mary's eyes narrowed. "I saw you with that knife with my own eyes, and Boris most certainly isn't one to mix up anyone who dares to strike at him." "But...he might have been...mistaken...or..." "I'll gladly believe his word over some smarmy bard, no matter how close to death he was." The crowd cheered. They were ready for blood. Shan studied his options. With his arms behind his back, they were rather small. The bandits were very skilled at ensuring a prisoner didn't leave before they wanted them to. "Now, then, we aren't unfair, and there's a chance that Boris will pull through. If that happens, I'd be happy to smash your arms and hands and let you on your way. If he dies," Mary leaned closer, and Shan remembered that he was a toothpick in this camp even compared to what many confusedly called the weaker sex, "Well, then, there's been some interesting debate on what we'll do then. None of them end as pleasantly for you, I guarantee." Shan struggled to his feet. He really needed to practice standing with his hands bound more. "Look, I didn't kill him. I've barely been asleep for ten minutes, just ask the boy! I've been in camp the whole time, and if you would just let me see Boris-" "Shut him up," Mary said. Someone behind Shan, probably the kidney puncher, struck Shan hard on the back of the head, making him see spots of light even and the edges of his vision faded. "Damn bards. They all talk too much." Shan barely noticed someone lifting him up and dragging him toward one of the storage sheds before he blacked out. |
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| Blackwell | Fri Sep 2, 2011 11:17 pm Post #9 |
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Cade woke up to the commotion caused by the woman and several bandits rummaging through Shan's belongings, woken by his protests, denying the blade was his. Fear entered his eyes, pushing himself back and away from the man. Hands gripped him, wrapped around his forearms. “Let me go! Don't touch me!” He panicked, chest rising and falling more quickly, tears beginning to form. The woman frowned slightly before threatening the bard. “Let him down. Stay around me though, boy. I don't know that you were involved. I hope you weren't.” She turned to Shan and told him the potential outcomes of this particular situation. When they hit Shan, Cade gasped and covered his own. Walking between the men, he followed the group, entering the shed as they threw the man in. The door shut on them, a bolt sliding home. The boy sat against the wall, arms around his legs and chin on his knees, watching the man expressionlessly. He ceased to move, simply waiting for him to come around. Outside the shed, two men stood guard, sitting at a small table. In the large tent, the vampire stood and watched as the bandits attempted to bring the man back to health. They cleaned out the wound, sewing the wound shut. One of the scrawnier men stood over him, rubbing his hands together. A white glow began to show, washing the wound in its light. The flesh gained a more normal color, remaining darker than it should be. Boris broke into a sweat, breathing shallowly on the table. On the side, Mary sat with her elbows on her knees, hands clenched, watching intently. Cade smiled at their efforts, lifting a hand. None of them noticed his presence as he lay a hand on the bandit's leg. Speaking softly, he cast a spell, the man's femur degrading, now incredibly fragile. Lifting his hand, he nodded and exited the tent, making for the shed. The two guards slumped over the table, falling deep into sleep. The bolt on the door slid open. |
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| Shan Orison | Sat Sep 3, 2011 12:25 am Post #10 |
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Shan woke again, this time with a horrendous pain at the base of his neck. How could they do that?! Hitting someone on the back of the head to knock them out was a sketchy art at best. They could have easily killed him or blinded him or who knew what? Granted, perhaps the person doing it was a master at knocking people senseless, but still. He didn't open his eyes at first, only giving a cautious wiggle of the tips of his fingers and toes. It seemed they were willing to hold off punishment until later. He had to get out of here. Even if they managed to pull Boris through the night, they were still going to break some limbs, including his hands. Out here in the middle of the forest with no proper medical care to be had, it would soon start healing wrong, and he'd never be able to play again. Perhaps he'd be able to earn enough gold to have them reset properly, but he'd only make that if he could play. It was, in truth, the same sentence as killing him outright. It would just be much, much slower. His only chance was escape, and the only chance he had of pulling that off was to free his hands. He risked opening his eyes. He had to rely on the dim light that crept through the shed's beams, but he could make out some crates and a small figure in the corner. Shan squinted a bit before he recognized who it was. "Heya, there," he said weakly, slowly moving his hands to test for weaknesses in the rope. "Sorry. It seems I got you roped into my bad luck. I kinda panicked while searching for an alibi. Sorry." The knotmaker had done fine work. He was going to need a second set of hands for this or something sharp to cut through the hemp. Looking around the shed, he was saddened that the bandits had no idea how this story was supposed to go, and had failed to leave any rusted metal, old weapons, or even a large, bent nail sticking out of a wall. Well, he at least knew what to do once he freed his hands, except that now he felt he couldn't leave without the boy, which made escape that much more difficult. He sighed. Why has this happened? his curiosity said with a fascination that never dampened. I mean, if someone wanted to kill you or take your things, it seems rather elaborate to dress up as you and go stab someone. If they were going for character assassination, wouldn't it be better to go after someone that actually had power here? Shan decided not to dwell on the whys or whats or hows, although he wondered who in the camp had a red wig to wear to imitate him. He turned to the boy. "I know things seem scary, but I'm going to get us out, don't worry," he said to the still form. "I'm going to need your help, though. You need to untie my hands. After that, I should be able to do something, but I need your help getting free." The boy remained frozen. Shan didn't blame him. He'd be petrified in fear as well if he wasn't so focused on getting out. He still had his dagger, he thought. Perhaps he could moved his hands over to the holster hidden in his belt and.... He froze as the sound of a bolt pulled open. Was it dawn already? Had Boris died? Shan moved into a crouch, ready to spring at whoever opened the door. It was possible they would pardon the child if he ran away on his own. He could run fast, even if his hands were tied behind him, and it was nighttime. He'd come back if he could, but he needed to free himself before he'd be of help to anyone. Muscles straining, he waited for the door to open. |
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| Blackwell | Sat Sep 3, 2011 8:14 am Post #11 |
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The boy remained frozen for a moment longer as Shan spoke. As the door bolt slid open, his head jerked up, a smile on his face. The boy rose and brushed off his pants, avoiding looking the bard in the eye. “Some situation you've gotten us into. Murder is hardly a proper answer to a minor dispute, don't you think?” The boy's voice was more fitting that of a grown man, though an aged one, than a child. The tone had lost its lilt, exchanging joy for dry amusement. Looking to the door, the boy cocked his head, ignoring the bard's incarceration. “Listen well.” The illusion brought his gaze to match Shan's. “I want to play a game. Boris is not going to survive until dawn. Of that you can be sure.” The boy grinned. “The night is young yet. What I want you to do,” The boy inspected a nail. “Is bring his body somewhere. About a mile out is a... suffering tree. It marks the entrance to a small cave, the entrance in its roots.” Cade glanced at the door to the shed, eyebrows raised. “Best to hurry. The guards should be waking up soon.” The boy began to fade from view, voice distorting. “And Shan. What that woman and her fine lackeys will do to you and your fingers can't hold a candle to what I've got prepared in the event of your failure. They won't touch you, no matter the outcome. Not necessarily a good thing.” the boy disappeared entirely, a knife sliding under the door, tied to a note. The spidery writing scrawled on its surface read 'I will be expecting this back. - C.' |
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| Shan Orison | Sat Sep 3, 2011 10:07 pm Post #12 |
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Shan felt his stomach drop at the voice emerging from the boy's mouth. It no longer held the tones of a small, tired child. It was now that of a man, a man filled with grim humor. Shan listened to his words without a sound, the instructions and dark insinuations. His face a stony blank, he picked up the gifted dagger and, after some awkward positioning, began to cut though the rope. "Go out a mile...Could have told me which bloody direction..." Shan muttered as he worked. "I don't know these ruttin' woods." At least now he knew the why. He seemed to come under the attention of someone with a rather sick mind. He didn't bother thinking of the motive for that. With his luck, he could likely chalk it up to him existing. How both Boris and Mary had seen him where he certainly wasn't was also now explained. Whoever this was had to be a master illusionist. Shan had certainly believed the boy was real. He could see him, hear him, even touch him! There must have been something a bit wrong to tip Shan's subconscious off and alert his paranoia, but even then it was the typical alarmist caution, and not the full blown conspiracy mode it blew into when it felt it had serious provocation, which wasn't much, to be truthful. It had seemed unlikely to Shan that someone in camp could have portrayed him. Even with a wig to match his hair, no one in the camp was as skinny as him. Even the women were more muscular, and those women who might have been close had other...well, features. Suffice to say none of them would be confused with a lanky young man, even in poor light. An illusion would be simplistic to make. The knife snapped through the final strand. Shan considered leaving the blade behind, but his maleficent benefactor was very specific about wanting it back. He tucked it in his belt and rubbed the reddened rope imprints on his wrists. Well, his hands were free. It was time to get moving. Closing his eyes, Shan extended his left arm to his side, his hand open. Breathing deeply, he focused on the memory of his violin, imagining its heft and texture, how the strings and bow felt against his fingers. He breathed out, clenched his hand, and the memory solidified. When he opened his eyes, he held his beloved instrument once more. Well, he had his life, and he had his fiddle. Time to move. He opened the door a crack to see two guards asleep at a table. More gifts from his dread patriarch? He slipped silently out the door, closing the bolt behind him. No need to alert the guards until they actually checked after all. Shan ducked into the shadows, working his way toward the lean-to. He'd be damned if he was going to buy another instrument case. He was recovering this one if he could. It seemed the bandits were ignoring the sad, three sided structure, and had left the case undisturbed, though he did not that his pouch and supplies were missing. He grabbed the case and headed to the woods. Once he cleared the thick foliage and got some distance from the camp, he stopped. He could run. That was his normal response, after all. The voice had proclaimed the bandits death in such a way that it seemed prepared to ensure his demise itself. The camp certainly didn't welcome him anymore, and he was in the dark, where he could sneak best. Except he didn't know these woods, and the voice had also recognized Shan feared his fate if the bandit lived more than if he died. And when he told Shan that if the bard failed the assigned task it would give a worse punishment...again, the voice hadn't used the tone of someone threatening or even promising. It had simply been stating facts. Not to mention that, as an illusionist, Shan would have no idea when whatever it was planned to strike... until it did. Bullies, Shan thought. I'm always harried by bullies. He moved parallel to the camp, searching for the large structure that had been introduced as the medical tent. That was where Boris most likely was. "And if the rutting voice want me to take him to that rutting tree, it can damn well give me better directions," he muttered as he stalked. |
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| Blackwell | Sun Sep 4, 2011 8:06 am Post #13 |
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Cade found himself enjoying this scenario immensely, keeping his mind open to straying thoughts. The man amused him greatly, and his summoning of his instrument solidified his hypothesis that it was more than a mere instrument, at least to him. There was magic at work. He followed the man to the forest, frowning as he stopped to consider his options, though few they were. The bandits would hunt him down, and they made their living in these woods. They knew the best escape routes, the quickest route to any destination. And their numbers were much greater. The man turned and headed back for the camp. Overjoyed, Cade made his way back to the tent. Entering, he found the bandit laying in bed, pale and breathing shallowly. The straight line carved into his side was looking much better now, with continued treatments. The splint on his leg was fresh, looking to have been broken recently. The man was asleep, an empty mug with dregs of herb at the bottom sitting on a nightstand. Mary sat asleep in one of the chairs, fingernail marks in her palms. She was nervous. Overly emotional over the circumstances. She had fallen asleep next to his bed. Cade grinned upon the realization that this was more than just loyalty to one of her bandit family. There was something deeper running between the two. Delicious. He unbuckled her knife, drawing it slowly as not to wake her. Judging where he was in relation to the woods, Cade bent over the sleeping victim and traced the dagger's tip over his flesh, carving an arrow into his chest pointing to the northeast. Cupping his hand around the wound, he collected a small amount of blood, smearing it on Mary's left hand, laying the dagger in her right gently. His throat burned at the smell of blood so close. He licked at his bloodied palm as he left the tent out the back, making his way toward the tree-cave. |
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| Shan Orison | Mon Sep 5, 2011 5:16 pm Post #14 |
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Shan shifted through the forests shadows, freezing whenever a sentinel came too close and allowing himself to melt into the darkness. That trick usually didn't work well for him, but he was usually running from things that had magical sight or found things by smell or sound or somethings similar. Humans were wonderful in that they were very sight oriented. He crept to the back of the tent, using the gifted dagger to pierce a tiny hole to peer within. It seemed the doctor had retired, either from exhaustion or hopelessness. The only one within besides Boris was Mary, asleep in a chair and holding something Shan couldn't quite make out from his angle. Careful to work in silence, Shan extended the cut to enter the tent. He moved to Boris's side and saw the doctor's handiwork on his wound, and he must have broken his leg somehow to warrant the splint. Those were afterimages compared to the fresh, bleeding wound on the man's chest. Shocked, Shan quickly grabbed a spare cloth to sop up the blood, and discovered a deep wood shaped like an arrow pointing toward the northeast. Shan bit back a groan. "I suppose I did ask for directions," he muttered, and placed a hand on his chest. Humming, he concentrated his healing spell on the wound, the slight glow partially closing the wound. Maybe whoever had done this had grand plans for Boris's death, but Shan was more than happy about stalling it. The glow, however, seemed to pierce Mary's dreams, and she stirred back to consciousness. "Doctor?" she asked sleepily, opening her eyes to see Shan above the wounded bandit. "You," she hissed, standing and holding out a dagger. The weapon in her had seemed to surprise her as much as Shan, and she looked down to see blood covering her hands as well. "What...what did I?..." she gasped, staring at her hands. Shan almost soared around the table, knocked the dagger from her hand, and held his free hand over her mouth. It was only shock that kept her from striking back, he knew. He was no match for her in a melee scuffle. He spoke fast "Mary, listen. There's some sort of twisted monster in this camp. It's probably responsible for what happened to Boris, framing me, and for the blood on your hand. It is sneaky, underhanded, and seems bent on hurting as many people as possible. It wants Boris, I don't know why, but I do know where. So don't scream, please, and let me explain.[/i] He slowly drew his hand away, hoping she would listen. |
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| Blackwell | Mon Sep 5, 2011 5:43 pm Post #15 |
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Mary's shock at his movement made her pause a moment, listening to his words. Her doubt at his trustworthiness was great, but there was a life at stake. She stared incomprehensibly at the blood on her hand. The mystery came undone as he explained, she was being set up. Fury entered her gaze. Reaching up, she gripped his wrist with the bloody hand and pulled it away from her. “How do I know I can trust you? How am I supposed to know you didn't do all of this? It's a pretty convenient ruse.” The woman crossed her arms, not minding the blood she was getting on her sleeve. Her look darkened for a moment, eyes flicking around the room. “Where's the boy? Did you-- oh.” All of her anger and shock melted away, fear replacing them. It was a rare instance when the leader showed weakness, but events were stacked against her. Walking forward, she lay the back of her hand on Boris' brow, feeling his temperature. He was running a fever. “Doctor!” She called out. Turning to Shan, she glared, determination setting in. “You will bring me to it. I will flay this creature alive for...” She bit her lip as the doctor entered, sparing Mary the briefest of looks before dashing to the bandit's side, tending to his wounds. Mary slid her bloodied hand into her jacket. “We need to leave.” * * * * Cade neared the hollow in the tree's base, keeping a watchful eye on the sky above. He was hidden from all, but he could not hide himself from the sun's rays. Not without shelter. The vampire bent slightly to fit into the entrance, passing the small tunnel and into a larger cave, nearly twenty feet long and fifteen wide. A small passage in the back led a a small cave system. Grinning, Cade closed his eyes, lifted his hands and began to weave illusions. |
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4:53 PM May 22
