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Post by Lyall British on Dec 30, 2010 22:46:35 GMT -5
She had not been in the public eye for many years. If not one thing, then the other, had kept her pursuing a more private life. It had only been in the last few weeks, that she had begun traversing the muddy rows of some market or village square. Cloaked, always, her dark hair and face hidden by cowl or wrap, yet she would move among the throngs with a confidence. Often she would stop and buy a small bauble or garment, or have food of some sort wrapped to stow away in her cloak. She was not remarkable in a crowd for any reason, in fact blended well among the many during the busiest times of the day.
In the evenings, her shadow long, she would leave such places, often northward, though not always, and wind her way up into nearby hills or cloak of trees. Any that might follow, would soon lose the trail, for any sign of her passing ended in shadow.
Often these days, thoughts ran through her head of the past, but they did not hold the power they once did. They were but amusements and passingly fitting to keep her mind occupied.
Such markets as she might visit were in the smaller towns, the ones outside the main throngs and away from the many conflicts that still ravaged the land. At times, she would find a village she seemed to like, and thus visit it more frequently than any others.
It was so this day, as she stepped nimbly across sluicing holes in the ground, and listened to the hawkers and children and people as they filled the rows. A rain the night before had left the streets muddy and somewhat treacherous, and passing carts and horses were apt to splash those too close, resulting most often in a string of curses and sometimes a throw of rotten fruit.
Still, with the laughter of street bairns and the distant bark of a dog, the minstrels gay music seemed to make it a lively enough place, and with all the scowls there was a lighter aire of a prosperous village on the outskirts of larger towns. She liked it here. She would continue to make her outing here daily for awhile..confident in her anonymity here.
It happened on one of the better mornings in the town. Farmers rose the earliest so not to toil in the heat of day. Shop owners stirred slightly later. Older kids helped their parents with work while the youngest minded the smallest and quickest of chores before convening in their faux mobs of glee around town. If they were lucky they got the metal to get some candy, which really sent them wild.
One of the girls was named Lucy and she had been born and raised in the town. It was all she ever knew and hadn't gotten old enough to want to leave home. What she knew of the world came in boxes via the merchants which came about one every other week, usually in little groups. She was the oldest girl which naturally made her the leader of the group. It was easy to see by her bone structure, her smile, that she would be a beautiful woman. The boys were too young to know what to do with their affections-- they waged war with the girls and sometimes took the spoils of war, the candy. Lucy by now had learned that a properly applied pouty face dissolved their nerve and they would give the candy back. This worked especially well on the boy named Jamie. When Jamie got older, he would have said that Lucy was the first girl he ever loved, at least enough to give her back her candy.
On this particular morning a single merchant on horseback came into town. He wore a hat and had messy blond hair and his glasses perched on his nose. He didn't seem to take much to people though he needed something from them. His outfit was very proper and had a better quality than all the clothes that the locals wore. Some of it was even raw silk. When he got down from his horse he asked the first shopkeeper where a room was that he could rent and she indicated the inn. He was... captivating for the children, the same way any stranger in town was. They wanted to ask questions and play games, perhaps barter for candy. His arrival had ended the war games between Jamie and Lucy's armies.
The man tied his horse up outside and went in to sign the ledger and pay. It was then that Lucy, the oldest of the children at 10 years, walked up to the man's horse.
The saddlebag was absolutely bulging and off to it's side was a buckle she dug her hands into.
"Luce, I dunno if you should be doing that," Jamie said, biting into his apple and watching her. They were at the age where the boys were towered by the girls so he had to look up at her, though she was just a year or more older than him.
"Shush, don't get me caught."
Jamie finished off his apple and threw the core off to the side, "He's gonna think you're stealing something and get at you."
Lucy didn't care. Her small hands had to work hard but she got the buckle undone. The saddlebag practically gaped open it had been buckled with so much pressure. The inner contents were so varied and intriguing that she couldn't have imagined a better reward for her curiosity. Some bits were of beautiful, shiny metal, like tiny rewards for her to collect. Jamie, by now, was taken in and stared in astonishment.
"Jackpot." She wanted to say it loud enough for the other kids to hear her and be jealous. Without another moment of hesitation she reached into the bag for one of the shiny and promising objects. She did not expect it to grab her back. The metal was cold but it felt somehow like a snake. It moved against her, wrapped around her arm. Suddenly it became brighter and brighter, like a beacon. Lucy thought the object had gone from something marvelous to something horrifying and screamed. Jamie stumbled back and shielded his eyes. The light stopped and when Jamie looked again Lucy was on the ground, her dark blond hair in swirls along the dirt, and the man with the raw silk tie was standing over her with a cold and surprised expression.
"Lucy!" Jamie ran over to her.
"Sto--" The man tried to reach out to stop the boy, but Jamie had already reached Lucy. Once he touched her, he too, appeared lifeless on the ground.
The man pulled his hand down and reached, fastening his saddlebag, climbing atop his horse and digging in the spurs so that it ran. The brown mare kicked up dust and left the remaining children in shock. Their parents were opening shops and beginning to wander, but they never felt so at a loss as then. As children they knew only a couple of things. First, that the man was an outsider. Second, not to touch Lucy or Jamie. Third... that this was beyond their parent's helping, but they knew a stranger that came in everyday who looked like she knew something about otherworldly matters.
The mob of children, now lead by Lily, sought out the outside stranger. They knew she came by everyday and Lilly, small as she might be with her fair, bleach blond hair, was just as hard to say no to as her sister, Lucy. One could have thought Lily had the makings of a young general with the assertion in her voice.
When she saw Cricket she said, with the utmost certainty it would be so, "You're going to help us save Lucy."
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 19:02:52 GMT -5
It was a pleasant morning, or at least it had been. She had spent most of it inside the apothecary stall, and tucked away in her cloak were several little packages. The rows were not as muddy as they had been, but her worn boots were sturdy and she cared little if her already stained cloak took up some mud on its hem. She was on her way to resupply her peppermint sticks..(an item she almost always carried), when round the corner and bee lining it for her, was a small girl.
Cricket paused, her cowl shadowing most of her features, and observed this curious little one. Something was obviously driving her, and when the child wasted no time in announcing what it was, Cricket arched a brow in some light surprise. Standing as she was..in the middle of the busy market row, she led the child and the few others that had followed her, off the main way and to a somewhat quiet spot beside a stack of barrels.
Quietly, she spoke to her, in a voice that was gentle and patient. "Who is Lucy, little one?" She had occasional use for the street children, and knew a few by name..even this one seemed to look familiar, but she waited to hear more of what the problem was, always, as was her habit, keeping an observant knowledge of those around them.
When the small girl first announced her name... Lily, and then went on to explain in a rather hurried and rushed way that Lucy had fallen after touching something in the satchel of an outsider and that she had to come now to help. The child even was brave enough to take one of her hands, and this surprised her, insisting that she came along and hurry up at it.
Cricket was not chuckling, or amused in any way. The child was obviously adamant about whatever was going on, and that Cricket, being as strange of an outsider as the man that had ridden away, must know what was going on. As she allowed the child to lead her forward at a quick pace, she would soon discover, at least what everyone else knew.
There in the open space before the inn, stood a ring of people, most of them kneeling down around what looked like two children lying there. Cricket frowned..and quickly scanned those gathered. Little Lily, was going on like a nymph as they drew near, how strange the man had been, how fine his clothes, his spectacles, the way things glittered in his satchel... and Lucy didn't MEAN to do anything wrong... she had just wanted to See, and now no one could touch them... else they would be dead too. It was all in a rush, and for whatever reason, the people gathered, parted slightly to allow Cricket through, several of them whispering "don't touch them" .. .or... "are they dead?" What the hell did she look like? A soothsayer? She frowned, and knelt down near the two children, who appeared quite lifeless. She sought sight of their breath and when she could find none, she produced a small silver backed mirror from her cloak, to hold in front of their noses, so careful not to touch them.
Lily was still chattering on, was now interrupted by the other children as they all rushed to tell her what had happened. When one of them mentioned that the man had gone inside the inn, she sent one of the boys in to see if he had signed the ledger and to come back with his name and what he had said to the innkeeper. As she waited for that bit of information, she studied the lifeless bodies and tried to sort through the rush of information the little ones were giving her in pieces. "shiny bits" one said "inside the satchel. It was bulgin!" "somethin' grabbed her an' she screamed!" "there was a shinin' light!" "Jamie runned over and touched her and he fell too!" Well... all these bits and pieces were fascinating... but they hardly were proof of anything and hinted at all too many. She stood up, the frightened faces of the children following her rise, as the boy ran out of the inn, and she waited to hear what he had to say.
Without being able to touch the children, there was little that could be done for them.
They could not have appeared more lifeless, Jamie and Lucy, but after her mirror had been under their noses it became clear that there was a gentle, small fog of life coming from there. They were sedated beyond measure, especially since the commotion of everyone around them couldn't seem to stir them. Their parents were shocked that Lily had wrangled the stranger into the town's business but, after seeing her, they too believed that the stranger somehow knew what to do to help them.
The boy that went into the inn came out with the ledger. It looked enormous in his arms, about the size of half his body. The pages looked so bright in the daylight. He strained to read it aloud to her.
"It says his name was...Lyaalllll British. Lyall British. Yea." The boy looked at her like he expected that it was an answer for something. The inn keeper, oblivious to the turmoil of the morning, came running out of his inn to catch the boy that took his ledger. He stopped dead in his tracks, standing behind the boy and putting his hands down on the kid's shoulders, "Why, that looks to be Lucy and Jamie. Did they... die this morning?"
He had been the first to actually say what everyone was afraid had happened. That the oldest children still in the town had passed together and suddenly, with nothing but the outside world to blame. The boy with the ledger looked up to see the face of the inn keeper and said to him, rather calmly, "She wants to know what he said to you."
The Inn keeper was an older man. His daughter had grown up and gotten married and moved away and came to visit once a month. His wife had died from a horrible chest cold five years ago. He'd bought the inn the pass the time between his daughter's visits. Soon he would be a grandfather. He had the kinda time it took to run that sort of place. There were only seven rooms, but the sheets were always clean and he kept it all well dusted. Answering the young boy's question was one of the biggest roles he had taken on since being a husband or father. Everyone was looking at him and the pressure felt deep. He cleared his throat and lifted his hands, a gesture which was already saying he didn't know much.
"He hardly said a thing when he came in. He stepped in and said he wanted to stay just a night. I asked him where he was headed and he said he had several places he had to go to. The only big city I could think to ask him about was Rhydin. He sort of muttered something I think was saying he intended on getting there, maybe, but he didn't sound happy about it... or anything, I guess. I don't know. I was just making some conversation while he signed in. Then, after he signed the ledger there was something bright that lit up the windows and he got white as a sheet, like he was scared, and ran out without paying or coming back at all. I thought he was too proud to admit he couldn't pay, but I guess a man dressed like that wouldn't have a problem paying."
Lily had been watching Cricket carefully and reached out, grabbing for her hand again and looking at her seriously. It was amazing how serious a doll-like child could be, "You're one of those outside people that know about outside things. That means you have to help."
Children worked in those sort of absolutes. Lily's mom looked shocked that her child was being so insistent with the stranger. She cleared her throat and spoke. By the way the adults responded to what she said, it was clear all were in accord, "We'll give you whatever it takes to save our children."
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 19:07:06 GMT -5
Cricket was rather glad of the cowl that shadowed her features, and her head dipped to further obscure them as a smile ticked at her lips. She had not quite expected the lad to come running out with the ledger in his hands, especially taking in the size. It was hardly a situation to be laughing at however, and as he read the mans name, she came near, to glance at the writing herself. Not so much because she did not believe the lads reading ability, but because things could often be told in ones handwriting.
When the innkeeper came out in search of his book..and took in the scene in front of his establishment, his words were, what everyone had been thinking. She spoke once, and clearly enough those around her could hear. "They are not dead. They breathe still."
The boy looking up to the innkeeper, and triggering him to spill forth what he knew, all eyes turned to said keeper, and waited in an uncomfortable silence for what he would say.
His information was more than she expected, but hardly enough to track the man down. He may or may not be headed for Rhy'Din. He may or may not be headed anywhere else. One thing was for certain..whatever had occurred had frightened him, and he was headed away from here. Cricket was not one for taking up public causes, even good ones..and there was very little anyone could do for the children without being able to touch them. She might have very well just shook her head and walked away from it all... but that was when the girl named Lily took her hand. An outside person... knowing about outside things. Yes..yes she was..and the earnest little face that looked up to her, so resembled one of her own little ones, that she felt compelled to do something.
With a soft sigh, she knelt down, more at eye level with Lily, and let her alone peer into the shadows of her hood, to see her face that was nothing ominous. Black eyes looked over the child's features, glancing up as one of the parents spoke, and then back to Lily. For a moment, she didn't say anything, and then she reached out and swept a lock of dirty hair out of the child's eye and gave her little hand a gentle squeeze. "I will try." It was all she could do, and she would not promise more. She stood up, still holding on to Lily's hand and looked at the adult that had spoken. "Get me a horse. A fast one. Build a fire here for the children. Keep watch over them all the time. Throw a blanket across them if it is chill..erect a tent if it rains. They may yet wake on their own, but I will try and seek an answer."
A horse would not be long in coming, and in the meantime, she knelt down to the child, as the adults now had something to occupy their grief and worry. "Thee have been a good friend to Lucy and Jamie. They are lucky to have thee." She smiled to her then, and stood up, a young and somewhat ansy mare being led close. She took the horses reins, and did a quick check of the equines legs and feet, and finding her sound, swung easily up on her and without a sound, trotted toward the town gates.
There were but two, and they knew which the rider had gone out of. Once on the road..sharp eyes watched for the fresh marks of hooves... and she spurred the mare into a faster run. Chances were not all that good she would catch up..and of course there were a thousand unknowns when she did.
The villagers watched as she left and all thought it had been a bad dream, so sudden the happenings and so fast the changes. They watched in fear and hope, and all the emotions hopeful parents and members of a town have in that sort of situation. The mare kicked up clouds of dust and they watched it dance to heaven and settle down.
They followed her instructions while she was away. The Innkeeper had a tent he donated to the cause that they built around the children. Sometimes Lucy or Jamie's parents would could around to read them bedtime stories, not certain if they could even hear them but did it anyway. Candles burned to their deaths only to be replaced by others. The small community church had even gotten involved, taking donations for the support of the children. There hadn't been many members of the town so it was so easy, so natural, for them to rise to the cause of a fallen neighbor.
When the tragedy was spoken of, it was always mentioned that they had been too young to have this happen to them. The metal bracelet, snake-like, shined brightly and stayed attached to her wrist. It was as though it subtly glowed. Not enough to emit much light, just enough that it was eerie and no one thought to touch it.
The man who signed the ledger had headed off ahead of her in a dead gallop. The fresh prints from his horse spanned the stride of one being spurred on. It was clear at first, the only prints to follow. Gradually as the path went on other prints began to join in and muddy up the course. Perhaps his horse had gotten tired and they trotted. At any rate, the course was no longer clear for where they had gone. But she had an idea. The main traffic lead up to a town that was about forty miles out from Rhydin. It was mostly an outpost. It was not unlike the village she had been staying at. There were locals who had lived there their whole lives and the population was larger than the other town had been. More merchants went through and children didn't roam the streets as freely. Fewer noticed her arrival because new people arrived all the time. There were three places that rooms could be rented.
The first was an Inn, called "Nights Inn" that had a sign which said there were vacancies, hanging off the bottom of it. Half of the rooms looked lit and the place looked like it needed more attention. Some of the plants out front were dying and it needed to be repainted.
The second place was a guesthouse, called "Anton's Guesthouse" where the owner and his wife had seven different rooms they rented out to different people. It was three stories tall and looked old, what with the rust from the shutters creeping down the sky-blue painted sides of the place. The grass was cut well and there was a stables outback that smelled like it needed to be cleaned.
The final place in town that could be rented from was a tavern that sat on the river. The river was only big enough to afford some trafficking of merchandise, mostly to and from Rhydin. It was about five feet deep so only the smaller, shallow bottom boats could make the journey. People sat on barstools and drank until they had to rent a room for a night cause they stumbled too much to wander home.
There were stalls and horses at all locations. The steps and horse markings of those that came and went didn't clearly distinguish where the man had gone. But it was nightfall, it seemed unlikely he would have traveled past the town.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 19:09:26 GMT -5
Cricket pushed the mare hard as long as the tracks were easy to follow and showed the speed of the horse they followed. When she was no longer able to distinguish them from the mix of others, her own horse slowed, even circled back a time or two. While it would seem the most apparent course for one dashing away from a. n unexpected and tragic event, to run from one village to the next..she was never convinced the one she sought, had. In fact... she was almost sure that if he had made a beeline to this larger hub, his tracks would not have disappeared so ... conveniently.
She pulled up her horse a little way from the main gates into the town, the anxious mare snorting and pawing. Cricket surveyed the land around her..and took a moment to just think about it. If he had gone into town... it would be for a room..as he sought in the village. That meant he needed rest and perhaps privacy. If he were in town he was staying there a little while.
If he was not? He was either running still...or holed up somewhere. She trotted back the way she had come..to where those tracks had so conveniently mixed up with others. She slid off the mare then, to examine the tracks more closely as she walked, and that with taking in her surroundings, she dismissed South and East. The land was open with rolling hills and few trees. To the North and West, there were more trees..and if she remembered correctly..a creek ran right through them from one town to the next.
She felt a sense of urgency, if not for the children in the village, then for her own that she needed to get back to. If she could not find the man by morning, she would have to consider an alternative. She remounted her horse and with a sharp eye on the ground and the surrounding area, she headed toward the trees.
Trees don't give away secrets. They are conveniently quiet. They only talk sometimes when the wind carries it. Tonight, as the sun was setting, it told her that someone was there.
Lyall was a man and only that. He was not a magical half breed nor did he have some enchantment upon him. He just smelled different and that was because he was. His camp was set up for the night, down by the creek with a small fire that whispered his secrets. He was reading a book, this man, with his glasses down low on his face. Somewhere in his mid-twenties with a thin, shaggy blond beard about on his face. His horse was loaded with a pack which bulged but, alas, not nearly as much as it had that morning. Both he and the horse smelled tired and like sweat.
He used a bag for a pillow and his ankles were crossed and diagonal to the fire so it warmed his feet and shins. It was difficult to tell how armed he could be, he wore several layers of clothes. Just it didn't appear his clothes were much like armor or, in fact, that he was much of the war faring type.
Before anything could be said someone came intruding, from the northern side of the creek toward him. He didn't look alarmed, he hardly sat up for the other that was coming. Instead he folded his book down on his chest and looked at the other. It was a man with high cheekbones and desperate brown eyes. Lyall blinked at him and spoke.
"Well?" "It was a mighty hard track to get here, sir." "I can see that. Now what's the message?" Lyall wasn't one to be swayed for a greater tip. The man licked his lips, they were dirt and salt, "He says he can't help you." "Lot of good you are." Lyall shoved his glasses up his nose and sat upright some, "You mean to say you came all that way to tell me that little bit of nothing?" "There's more sir." "Well, get on with it."
The man paused awkwardly and stuck his hand out. Lyall met it with a frown, reached in his pocket and shoved a silver into the man's hand. This changed the man's attitude considerably. He told him, "He said that there was someone that could help. He told me to give you this." Lyall was handed a sealed letter. Without opening he smiled, painfully, to the messenger and paused. His eyebrows were arched upward now in questioning. Did the messenger have anything else to say?
"Well?' "That's it, sir." "Then you'd better be getting on then." "Yes, sir." He scrambled off into the night, leaving Lyall alone with the letter. Except, by now, Lyall was not completely alone with the letter.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 19:58:34 GMT -5
Cricket halted her horse at the tree line and dismounted. She took a moment just to **** her head and listen..and then stepped into the darker shadows of the trees. The brush was not thick, and fall had not yet littered the ground with crunching leaves. With care, she could move quite soundlessly among them, pausing from time to time to just stop and listen and smell the air. The trees whispered their secrets, but his fire marked the spot. The cowled hood was pushed off the wild mane of black hair, and the cloak was wrapped tighter.
Glimpses through the trees... a reclined figure in the firelight... remarkably calm for the sheen of sweat on his horses flank in the flicker of flame. The bulging pack... she knew she had found her mark. Patience in such things was always a virtue... but she had little time. It pressed upon her in ways known only to her.
As she neared the camp, she halted, pulling up in the dark like another tree as someone came hurrying up to his camp. Their voices were not loud..and she crept slowly closer with a patience that belied the way her heart was now beating faster.
"......to tell me that little bit of nothing?" "...more Sir"
The rest of the conversation she heard well enough..and when it was over, and the messenger had darted off into the night, (and that was what she presumed him to be) she considered her options. There was not time to chase down the messenger and get what information he had. Messengers rarely knew much, and it was only a small edge it would give her, hardly worth the time it would take. She studied the figure as he was now left alone with his missive..for indeed, it was what it appeared. Though it posed many more questions than it answered..and though she was highly curious as to who this was and what the hell he was up to..she had one purpose here..and not time for anything else.
The seal was old fashioned, wax and all pressed upon the paper. Lyall opened it open with a turn of his finger and began reading. When he read, his lips moved like he was going to say what was there aloud. It hadn't been a long missive, a few minutes later and he was done, the paper resting atop his face-down book on his chest. The grief in his face said that he might have sighed heavily or given an exclamation of self-doubt.
He reached for his flash, took a swig and settled down a bit more. The fire wasn't much, it wasn't long until it went out. Behind the shine of his glasses Lyall had fallen asleep with the missive and book on top of his chest. Periodically his horse would shift of shake its head. The horse knew she was there. At least, she seemed to. Now and then she would look in Cricket's direction for a long time then turn her large coal-like eyes away towards the woods, where greater dangers promised to be.
His foot twitched. The man had fallen asleep, hard. She must have been tired herself, having run her horse as long and hard as he had himself. Except he had the sweat on his brow of someone who knew what he was worrying about. She, well, she just had the children and something of a promise to keep to a village.
He snores, low and grumbling, like someone does when they're having a nightmare. Since taking this job Lyall had plenty of nightmares from all the things he'd seen. Some of the things he'd done himself. This was a nightmare the village had given him. He dreamed he went into Rhydin and when he did everyone was laying on the floor in that dead-like state and even when he touched them, he didn't become like them. Just that he was alone and it was like everyone else left their bodies and he just couldn't take care of all of them. Animals and weather were starting to get at them.
Lyall moaned in his sleep and turned over, the book and paper splaying away just a few inches from him. Even with glasses on it was easy to see his eyebrows were knit.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 20:00:51 GMT -5
The wait was excruciating..and at one point after he had read his missive, she had nearly stepped out and confronted him directly. It was growing damned late! Some wiser sense though, stayed her hand, and she waited in the shadows, glaring at his horse every time its sad eyes turned around and looked at her, willing it to just turn back around. She weighed her choices in this. She needed him, she needed his horse and whatever it had in its satchels... but mostly, she needed his cooperation if there were to be found any solution to the crisis two children suffered in town. At the same time..she had her own to worry over.
There was as well, the danger of underestimating things. He appeared to be asleep..but it was very easy to appear that way. She could easily disable him from her position..but it would take hours for him to become..cooperative again. She gave a grunt. This was ridiculous. She had no time to second guess things.
She stepped forward, her soft, worn boots making no sound. She smoothly entered the clearing of his camp, the fire low enough that the moonlight was the brighter of the two. Dark eyes locked on his reclined form as she circled his campfire..edging up slowly to where he slept..the proverbial thief in the night. Out of reach in case he suddenly woke, she would squat down, and with the tip of her cane, reach out and snag the book and the missive that lay atop it, and drag them slowly back towards her.
If he were aware, he feigned sleep very well..and if he woke..then he had a surprise. If he did not..she had the moment to take the missive, and tuck it into the folds of her cloak without trying to read it in the dark... and study him now much closer.
Cricket was good on her feet, even if she thought the smallest motion was an enormous mistake, none of them appeared to stir Lyall. He adjusted his weight a little once the book and missive were taken but the crackle of the fire and the lull of his drink was enough to hide someone who didn't want to be known. The book didn't appear to be of great significance except to entertain him. It was titled World Maps and seemed more to talk about key hubs than general areas. Probably just studying the different routes to take home.
The missive, well, that was the important stuff. The handwriting in the missive was clearly not his own unless he had disguised his penmanship in the ledger.
Lyall, It is to my understanding that you have lost the artifact I had given you. When you collected it from me I had told you it was incomplete and that you must be careful with it. Since you took it from me, it is no longer my responsibility, nor in my capacity to help you. I can only advise you to find a man named Thalas, who works at a Library of Darklore. He may have some information for you. Goodluck, I suppose.
A
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 20:16:30 GMT -5
Quick eyes scanned the missive before it disappeared in her cloak, and after wards, as she considered the contents of the note, she studied him as he slept. If the artifact in question were the subject of the missive, it meant whoever "A" was, he had some way of getting his information pretty damned quick... and it also meant, that this sleeping angel, had no clue as to what to do.
She thought about this quite hard. It could of course, be some other artifact that had nothing to do with the one still wrapped around the wrist of the child in town... but whichever the case, it seemed this man liked to dabble in dangerous little objects. Damn him... had no time for this.
Her theft of the parchment had not seemed to disturb him and she stood slowly, her shadow flickering like a wraith from the firelight. She moved toward his horse, who shied a few steps sideways, but she made no attempt to touch it. She moved slowly around the mare, and studied what she could see of his bulging saddlebags and their contents, and considered what she was going to do. If she had more time, she would followed the messenger, rethinking her wisdom in letting him go... but again, there was no guarantee that the artifact that A was speaking of was the same one. If she had less of a conscience where children were concerned, she would have slain the man sleeping, taken his horse and the bags and been gone. She cursed silently to herself as she decided there was but one option here. Get answers and get them quick and see if there were any quick solution to this at all. It was the sound of his horse that woke him. Not because it was particularly loud, but a man who knows his horse knows when something is bothering her, as opposed to her just being fussy. It was a sleepy motion at first, cracking his eyes open to look at her.
Then, when it registered he was seeing some woman at his campsite, he sat up with a quick start and looked to be reaching for his pack that was around him, "I warn you! I'm not a man to be triffled with! I am very dangerous, I have uh," he shoved his glasses back up his nose, reached his bag and withdrew what looked to be a simple little hand blade, about five inches long. He brandished it like a defensive animal, "So you better get going then." His waking drew her dark eyes to slide towards him, his startling clear as he jerked up the bag and exclaimed his defense. She turned, very slowly, and planted her cane between her feet, not bothering to push back the cowl that still hung over her dark hair, for her face turned towards him could be seen in the firelight clearly enough. Her head canted to one side as he dug into the bag, and pulled out and stuck out the small blade.
She made no move to go anywhere. She spoke, her voice rich and smooth and oddly accented. "I doubt very much thee are as dangerous as the items within thine satchels..but thee are welcome to try and kill me later. At the moment, I require thine cooperation, for indeed the danger carried with thee has caused harm to two small children, and I intend to find a solution if one is at hand. ..Now..we can argue..or thee can come back to town with me."
She presented the case calmly and succinctly, her cutting gaze never leaving him, and a set of her jaw that said at the moment, she was not very amused.He was put to some ease, but reluctant to put his blade down. He held onto it as if worried that setting it down would cause her to leap on him. His eyes went from her, to the fire, then once on the ground. The children? His eyebrows knit and mouth opened in slight surprise.
How had she found him so quickly, "What children?" But he knew that she knew and the fake show of all of that seemed like a waste of energy. He reached inside his jacket for the missive in his jacket, "even the possibility of helping them is pretty... pointless. Whose hired you?"
Now he was suspicious. At least it was an emotion that caused him to put away the pitiful blade. He looked concerned that the missive was lost and though suspicious of her, clearly didn't think she was the cause.She gave him a look that was a bit like he was the child here, and her patience was wearing thin. She gave a grunt of irritation at his query, not seeing the point of answering it. Her motives were none of his business. He put away the blade, and still she held her spot, unmoving but for the light breeze that caught the campfire smoke and the hem of her long cloak. She watched as he distractedly looked for his missive, and she was sure that was what he was looking for. "What do thee mean, "the possibility is pointless"?""The possibility of doing anything for those kids is pretty... pointless. The best thing anyone can do is just get away from that town until it blows over." He straightened up his back, leaned down to fetch his hat and settled it back on his crown.
Then, he sighed and folded his arms across his chest, "From what I've been told the closest thing to fixing that problem is that someone out there might have a book or something about it." Lyall didn't sound optimistic and the situation didn't offer much opportunity. This was peaked more, mostly, because he wasn't particularly concerned with the children. They were like a small mistake that if he couldn't quickly fix, just as soon remove himself from. His lack of concern for the two little ones was clear..but the more he spoke, the more she became sure that the artifact in question was the same one in the missive. She intended to know more however, and he was going to tell her. Patience, was never her virtue, but she could practice it when it suited. "I have no time for games, Sirrah. Until what, blows over, and exactly what Is the problem?"
As much as she would have delighted in ripping his head off and spitting down his neck, she attempt to get more information out of him with questions..for as much as he danced around them, he was at least talking. "The Soul Ouroboros." Lyall said it simply enough. Clearly he thought she was more in the know than she actually was. She was, it seemed, in the threshold of all of this. He paused to continue.
Obviously it might be better for her to know nothing and minimize her understanding and ability to affect the situation. On the other hand, things had gotten about as worse as they could get so he wasn't sure that she could do worse. Perhaps if she forced him back to the village they would execute him for him having their children coming to harm, however unintentional it was.
His face was tense as he explained himself, "It's a shackle that someone can only make, supposedly, by bartering off part of their soul. It creates something like an imbalance in it and the shackle, which is more like a bracelet I suppose, attracts other souls in an effort to be whole. Of course the other half of that soul is not joined to the Silver Ouroboros, so naturally anyone who comes in contact with it... supposedly gets their soul and spirit drawn into it."
He took off his glasses to wipe them off and set them back on his nose, "Clearly, they were not the ones intended to receive such a unique and... odd item." Cricket felt an involuntary drawing back at his first words, for it was not a thing unknown to her. It was shocking, for it was unexpected, and it was also hard to believe. Other than this small reaction, she said not a word, and listened to him with rapt attention as he went on. The World Serpent..and someone had had the audacity to make it a shackle that could only grow longer, chain link by chain link. It took only moments for her to realize that not only was their likely no help for the children beyond a half a soul..and as well, that this was something that was not meant for the likes of this man either. She was silent for a long time..and she made no mention of what she knew of The World Serpent or it's history. It was a little like being shown a secret of the universe, and its implications were too broad to easily comprehend. Dark eyes narrowed upon him, and that study became more intense upon him.
"...Yet thee have had it in thine possession...have been close to it...and I see that while thee have no morals... thee Do have a soul. Why are thee not caught in this chain?" "That's not fair, I have morals," he blinked at her and shifted to lean against a tree.
When she asked him about it he offered up his hands, "It's just business for me and I'm trying to keep my personal life and business, separate." He reached in his jacket pocket and withdrew his gloves, "I never physically touched the thing, as I was directed never to do. So long as you don't touch it, or what it affects directly, it appears unable to... extend its change upon you," he shoved his gloves back into his pocket and cleared his throat, "Sometimes the things I'm given are benign pieces of junk and sometimes they're valuable, I never know, I just follow directions and try to sell it or transport it for the best price out there." So said his raw silk and the hat that perched on his head.
He cleared his throat, "So, no, I wasn't entirely sure that the thing was that powerful but I did... have a good idea. The man paid me a lot and wanted me to hurry. I'd been riding all day when I reached the village." She rarely played fair, but her eyes never relented from their study of him as he explained. One learned much by listening, and listening closely to what was said... and what was not said. She did not know how this had come about to begin with... and the creation of such a thing fascinated her, but she did not lose sight of why she was here. "The man paid thee a lot.. .to sell it? Or take it somewhere?" Her jaw flexed, with the urge to smack him for his lack of responsibility with such a thing. The Silver Ouroboros (( Rp played out between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 20:21:53 GMT -5
"The man paid a lot for me to transport it." Lyall gave a mild shrug. It wasn't the first time he had to move something that was valuable or dangerous. Somehow he had always been unharmed, well, mostly unharmed. That was a different story all together. He couldn't read just how complete her ill emotions were for him, he lacked the empathy which made him more aware of others.
"But he was also clear about the danger involved." It was why he had worn gloves, just as his superior instructed he should. His eyebrows lowered and he nodded towards the east, "I'm not sure who he is, but his messengers always come from that direction. He's very careful, very private from what I gather."
Lyall didn't know what else to tell her or what, exactly, she intended to do with him now. His mind went through all the little details and then he paused, looking past her to the woods. He spoke in soft, defeated tones, "Someone is coming."
He was right, there was someone coming. More than one someone, there were two of them in layers of brown clothes and the smell of apple scented tobacco deep in their skin. They stopped about four yards from them, the horse and Cricket between them and Lyall. The man who appeared to lead the duo lifted his chin up and called over to Lyall, "He wants to see you, now."
"Now?" Lyall blinked and shoved his glasses back up his nose.
"Yea, follow us." They looked at Cricket briefly as though not sure if she were part of all of this and needed to be noted, or if she were a short lived smudge on the page of a book. His eyes stayed there, with her and slowly a question started to come from his eyes, his body language, without him speaking. He was asking if she was coming too.
Her look never changed on him, from that piercing study, but inside she was a little amazed that this man hadn't been killed long before this. In fact, she was sure there must be another reason for it that she did not find apparent. Noone's luck ran that long on the good.
Her next question that was poised on the tip of her tongue, was to ask where he was transporting it to, but that question would have to wait, as she saw him pause... and listen. Her ears too, tuned to the sound, except at least in this, he got the better of her, for she heard nothing until the two men appeared. Delicate nostrils flared as a faint familiar scent touched her nose, but such would have to be entertained another time. It soon became clear why they were here and she was encouraged as their look to her seemed to hold no regard. Black eyes caught the bespeckled gaze of the source of this trouble, and read in them easily their question. There was a nearly indiscernible nod, and she left his horse for him to worry about.
She was coming along... and wryly she thought he could probably use the help. She needed answers and as fast as she could get them. The place this nasty little bauble came from was close at hand, while the place it had been going seemed a little further off. Goddess help her if she was stepping into a hole that was a hell of a lot deeper than it looked.
It was clear that Lyall was not welcoming of their presence and seemed more tense with it being there. The two men didn't say much, not even to one another. They stood patiently, watching Lyall as he packed up his things and put them in the saddle bag and stomped out the weakened fire. It didn't seem that he was hurrying to go along with the two men. In fact, it even seemed that he moved slower as if to delay what was happening.
It was inevitable, ultimately. He hadn't gotten much sleep and the sun was beginning to rise for a new day. he rubbed his eyes and looked at the two men, "I'm ready." He looked for a moment at Cricket, surprised she was coming and not all together sure she was ready. Lyall couldn't tell if she was as much a threat to him as the men were or what, exactly, her agenda was.
"Good." The leader of the men said. He opened up a compass in his hand. It was antique silver and it made a gear-like turning noise. Well oiled and moving. He looked ahead and said, softly, "It's time to go."
By the time the realization comes, it's already happened. There was the sound of whirling wind rushing by the ears and the light returned like they had only been blinking for a while. It had been the compass. The man with the hat that lead the duo was alone now, the other had not come with him. It was him, Lyall and his horse and Cricket and her belongings in what appeared to be a garden. The man shut his compass and cleared his throat, "He'll see you now."
"Wha?" Lyall blinked, startled at the sudden change of surroundings, "How did you do that?"
The man indicated his compass.
"Why isn't your companion with us."
"It's how the compass works." He put the compass in his pocket and signaled to the doors of the home which was about three stories tall and rather unassuming. The gardens were more elaborate, more luxurious than the house appeared by far. The walls were plain, the dark wood walls sanded down smooth with several windows piercing the surface. He took the reins of their horses and signaled again towards the home, "He's waiting."
Lyall rubbed his hands together nervously and put his hat back on. As he walked towards the house he looked at Cricket, "I guess I'm meeting him now, then." He looked around at the foliage, the sun that was now resting full and high like morning had already come and gone. It seemed Lyall was speaking quietly to himself when he said, "Where are we?"
He was nervous. What if the situation called for fighting? Surely the man was angry for his item being misplaced. Did the man murder when it had to be done? How many odd items did he own? First the bracelet and now the compass. Lyall knit his eyebrows as he walked, unsure what it was all amounting to.
(( Rp scene played between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 20:24:47 GMT -5
Cricket was on edge, for the moment the two strange men had appeared, she had known this was not going to be over soon. Her jaw flexed with the urgent need to return to her own, but she could not ignore her promise or the image of the two children back in town. Hers at least, were safe, even if she could not get back to them.
Gypsy eyes watched the two men in cloaking brown, and as well, observed the slow pace of the man that had caused all this. It was clear, he was procrastinating, and she could clearly smell his discomfort. She held her place, and had not moved but for the shift of her eyes, that gaze snapping to the compass as soon as it was opened. Even before that man spoke, she felt a cold grip that put a solid tension into the muscles of her shoulders. ...time to go... She knew it was too late to back out even before that rushing sound met her ears.
Where passing through a portal was disorienting and uncomfortable, this was more like someone had reached in and shuttered her brain for a split second, forcing a long blink though she could not remember ever closing her eyes. Even she could not help their rapid blinking however, as night became day and their surroundings changed from wild to cultivated.
As Lyall began to ask his startled questions, she stood looking about her with a critical gaze. The time of day seemed later, this she understood in a fraction of a second. Stars in the sky would have made it easier to ascertain if the sky itself was the same, but the rise of day made that impossible.
She was much less interested in the answers the man was giving, than she was in who was behind the facade of the house and it was there that her eyes fixed and locked.
As Lyall (though she still did not know his name, and did not seem to care) began to walk forward toward the house, she stood her ground where she was and frowned at the house. Something was just...not right, and it had nothing to do with the world tilting level in a place she had never been.
Her steps were quick and long and but two took her to catch up with Lyall, a gloved hand slapping down on his shoulder to halt him. "What is his name?" She asked, though her question was directed to the man with the compass, her narrowed eyes stayed on Lyall and the house. She was not sure she would get an answer...because of course all answers were behind the door, weren't they? Her head turned slowly toward the one that had led them here..and it may have seemed she was not going to take another step, or let Lyall do so, until she had her answer.
PostPosted: 13 Oct 2010 05:08 Post subject: The Man Named A Reply with quote Edit/Delete this post Cricket was on edge, for the moment the two strange men had appeared, she had known this was not going to be over soon. Her jaw flexed with the urgent need to return to her own, but she could not ignore her promise or the image of the two children back in town. Hers at least, were safe, even if she could not get back to them.
Gypsy eyes watched the two men in cloaking brown, and as well, observed the slow pace of the man that had caused all this. It was clear, he was procrastinating, and she could clearly smell his discomfort. She held her place, and had not moved but for the shift of her eyes, that gaze snapping to the compass as soon as it was opened. Even before that man spoke, she felt a cold grip that put a solid tension into the muscles of her shoulders. ...time to go... She knew it was too late to back out even before that rushing sound met her ears.
Where passing through a portal was disorienting and uncomfortable, this was more like someone had reached in and shuttered her brain for a split second, forcing a long blink though she could not remember ever closing her eyes. Even she could not help their rapid blinking however, as night became day and their surroundings changed from wild to cultivated.
As Lyall began to ask his startled questions, she stood looking about her with a critical gaze. The time of day seemed later, this she understood in a fraction of a second. Stars in the sky would have made it easier to ascertain if the sky itself was the same, but the rise of day made that impossible.
She was much less interested in the answers the man was giving, than she was in who was behind the facade of the house and it was there that her eyes fixed and locked.
As Lyall (though she still did not know his name, and did not seem to care) began to walk forward toward the house, she stood her ground where she was and frowned at the house. Something was just...not right, and it had nothing to do with the world tilting level in a place she had never been.
Her steps were quick and long and but two took her to catch up with Lyall, a gloved hand slapping down on his shoulder to halt him. "What is his name?" She asked, though her question was directed to the man with the compass, her narrowed eyes stayed on Lyall and the house. She was not sure she would get an answer...because of course all answers were behind the door, weren't they? Her head turned slowly toward the one that had led them here..and it may have seemed she was not going to take another step, or let Lyall do so, until she had her answer.
Those that interacted the most with this man in the house with solid plain walls didn't say much. It was as though they were veterans of a war no one wanted to talk about. They gave each other knowing looks and perhaps only those that had experienced what working for this man was like could understand. They looked old without being old.
Lyall was startled when he felt Cricket's hand on his shoulder. He almost yelped. His eyes widened behind his glasses and focused on her. Then he looked away, back toward the face of the building. His voice seemed distracted, "He always signed his letters with A. I think he... is an unusual man." He didn't know how else to tell her that the man didn't seem like a greedy aristocrat or desperate peasant. Ah, but then a memory came to him and he shared it, "Once he wrote me and said he was a collector of... things."
The man in the layered brown clothes stopped at the door and opened it for them. When it opened there was a new person there, a woman who was dressed in a more pleasant, but modest way. Her eyes had a drained look to them with circles so wide beneath them it was like large, purple glasses set on her face. She managed a weak smile and said, "He's expecting you."
The man in brown layered clothes packed a smoking pipe and stayed outside the door. As they stepped in and the door shut behind them the smell of a struck match and pipe smoke hit the air fresh. The hallway was well lit, clean and without any decoration. She took them down the hall and opened one of the doors on the left. Once it was opened and they stepped in, it must have been one of the largest rooms in the estate with large widows they hadn't seen on the front entrance lighting the room. There were well oiled, well taken care of items on pedestals, marble floors, and in the back of the room were several chairs and a couch and it was there, clearly, that the man Lyall referred to was sitting. He had a book on his lap and very sharp features that came off slightly birdish because of his nose and high cheekbones. Deep set eyes. The only sounds in the room was of their approaching, but he didn't look up until the woman had escorted them all the way in front of him.
He looked up, directly at Lyall and slowly forced a smile. Then he reached over to the empty spot on the couch beside him, withdrew a bookmark and slid it into the pages and gingerly shut the book. There was... something amiss about him. It wasn't that he appeared awkward or like some race masquerading as human. No, he was human but very much defined by an inhuman quality. His smile was unpleasant. Lyall expected to see glass in his mouth.
After a carefully measured moment he said, "I see we have a problem, then."
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 20:26:26 GMT -5
It was not surprising that the tenants here said very little. It was expected that things would be such. After all, no one wanted their servants telling tales out of school, did they? It was the obvious stress on the face of the woman that opened the door that brought home just how tense things here were though.
Crickets be-speckled companion had said nothing that she did not know already, and so she was resigned to getting answers (if there were any) from Sir A.
She had hoped, that whoever he was... she either knew him, or he didn't know her. Anonymity was a very good thing these days and she did not blame this "collector" for keeping his.
The lingering scent of tobacco and sulfur, at most times a pleasant smell, was renewed as they stepped into the vacant foyer, and were led along to whoever it was that had summoned them as her gaze took in the details of the room they were accepted into.
That same gaze snapped to their host, who was in many ways, very birdlike..but unlike a more innocent sparrow..her first impression was of a hawk. A strange hawk. She knew this man not. If she had known Lyall's thoughts of there being glass in the mans mouth, she might have shared them. There was definitely something off kilter here. It was unsettling in the most incongruous way.
There were some things that flashed at her from the moment they were brought before the mysterious Mr. A. Arrogance, confidence..and something else she could not quite put her finger on. Disdain?
His attention seemed centered on Lyall... and her's, from the beginning, had been, while not ignored, simply accepted. This struck her as off center..but she was not unhappy about it. Obviously she was seen as no threat and no puzzle, which meant Mr. A had eyes and ears that were very keen and worked from afar. Most likely she thought he knew when she had arrived at the campsite, and just what she was doing there. What was worse..was that she was almost sure from the moment she arrived here..that he was not going to help her and that there was the large possibility that she had fallen down a rabbit hole.
Be it so..perhaps she could persuade him. He was not the only collector of... things... and she just might have a little something that would interest him.
She was the one that spoke then, for no doubt more would spill out of Lyall's mouth than was wise.
"Thee see far to know it." Her voice clear, though not loud, it implied that she was not here for any reasons but her own, and the hand that again clapped down on Lyall's shoulder, let him know, he should keep his big mouth shut.
It was perhaps the first time in a while that Lyall did keep his mouth shut. He had a habit of asking questions when he was curious or anxious. He hated being anxious in a room where no one was speaking. It made him feel as though he ought to be speaking. By now Cricket knew that not much came out of his mouth but five year old questions.
The man named A looked at Cricket when she spoke. Perhaps she had been considered Lyall's assistant because she hadn't spoke much. No, her demeanor wasn't like that. She didn't cater to him in any respect. Perhaps she was something like a babysitter for him. He knew Lyall wasn't the best when it came to social tact and it would have surprised him only slightly if he hired someone to smooth out that wrinkled table cloth of his persona. She knew the better questions to ask, she knew the more important details of what was going on. For that, she had won his complete attention, thrusting Lyall into the background.
"Yes, well, for what I've done I should." He set the book down on the couch and rose to his full height. It wasn't unexpected that he was tall and wry. He folded his hands together and forced a smile he didn't want to make for her, "Where is the Silver Ouroboros?"
For all he could see and know, the loss of his item was vague to him. Lyall broke into the conversation, "It's in a town I stopped by at outside of Rhydin."
His eyes adjusted on Lyall briefly, but he looked back to Cricket and said "Oh." His hands folded in front of him and he cleared his throat. It was hard to tell if he was really asking questions or just being rhetorical. After what seemed a long pause he looked back to Lyall, "You can either bring it here... or make me another one."
He startled and shook his head, he wanted to say something more, but he remembered Cricket's hand on his shoulder and returned to a whining silence.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Dec 31, 2010 20:29:37 GMT -5
Black eyes that missed very little met those of the man named A. They locked to his and followed his rise up from his couch, her eyes ticking briefly to the book he left upon the couch, before they swept up his lanky form and met his less than pleasant smile. A single brow arched high at his pointed question and her first thought, was why didn't he know?. It could have played in her favor, had not Lyall decided it was a good time to break his silence.
As soon as he spoke, her fingers bit into his shoulder, and it took some self control not to shove him all the way to his knees. Dark eyes met A's a they turned back to her, and the longer his moment of silent thought spun out, the more she wanted to put an end to this game. Games however, were afoot.
She tightened her fingers on Lyall's shoulder, to help him with his silence, and interrupted the man named A before his last sentence was even fully complete. Her first few words talking right over his with a smoothed smile that held as little humor as his own.
"Excuse me...Mr. A, I believe thee prefer to be called is it not? Surely short for some thing, but one thee wish to keep close to the vest." Here she removed her hand from Lyalls shoulder, and gave a dip of her chin in a clipped nod of seeming acquiescence to the fact.
"I can understand and respect such a thing." Those black eyes had dipped with her chin and then snapped back to his snake quick, that pleasant smile never touching her eyes.
"I too, am a collector of... rare items..."
Here she paused... eying him as if she were just now taking him in for consideration.
"... doubtful thee could afford them."
That smile grew sweet for just a brief moment, and then disappeared all together as she abruptly changed the subject..and manner.
"I trust the reason that thee are being so threatening toward thine carrier, is that thee too are in a similar situation. I dare say, someone is quite upset with thee for losing what was to be theirs.... I mean... our friend here, he was transporting it to someone, nau?" She opened one hand in a gesture of apparent ignorance in the situation, and gestured to Lyall.
"A is acceptable." He didn't seem to care what his title was. It showed in the aloof posturing, the indifference to the title. Men who were lords tended to express every syllable of it just so that their audience could grasp how much of a lord they were. When she continued about it not being his name and needing to keep things secret, his shoulders drew back only slightly.
"I keep my personal dealings with others short, superficial, it tends to keep the mess away." He could have been talking about the town where the two children slept under tents. He could have been talking about a hundred other little, distressful events that occurred in the world. He wet his lips and stepped over to the fireplace that the couches circled, looking into the fire with his back to them. When she mentioned rare items his eyes cut over his shoulder and something hungry, gaunt, was in his eyes.
"You collect rare items?" It was clear he was incredulous but unavoidably curious. It was a problem, now. He was torn between wanting to regain his old item, the Silver Ouroboros, and wanting to acquire an all new trinket. Perhaps the one he'd been looking for the last ten years.
"Money isn't a problem, Miss." He didn't know what to call her. Like his name, it was unimportant. He turned to square his shoulders off in her direction, "The problem is if you really have something that worthwhile."
When she mentioned Lyall he looked at the man who had managed to be quiet their whole conversation. Yes, Lyall was quiet, but his face was shining with sweat and he could see that the man's eyes were constantly scouting around the room like he was looking for answer. Cricket, however, was asking. He cleared his throat, "The item was mine, it was suppose to be delivered to a particular person to perform a very important function. One it can no longer do because of what's happened. The Silver Ouroboros is a rare item, I can't tell you what lengths I went to attain and activate its potential. Lyall has cost me, greatly. It takes great restraint on my part not to strangle him, but... he has done good, discreet work for me in the past, up to this point."
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British Rp story is continued in the thread "Finding the Mandlebrot"))
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Post by Lyall British on Jan 1, 2011 13:21:01 GMT -5
Cricket had noticed the greedy hunger in Mr. A's eyes, privately satisfied she had sowed that seed that would soon spread its roots and take hold to grow stronger.
She heard him out until his last words, her look given this private collector one that seemed to hold disappointment. A soft cluck of tongue to cement it.
"Tsk tsk, Sirrah..that thee would allow such a bungling fool to do such transport for thee. Despite his ." For a brief moment her eyes cut to Lyall, and then as quickly back to Mr. A's. "..past achievements. I myself would not trust him for further work. ..However, whom thee use is none of my concern. As for my collection, and abilities to add to it... please do not look so surprised. I take great pride in my items, and I do not sell them for something as trivial as..money."
Here a look of distaste came across her olive toned features, as if his suggestion that they could be worth coin at all were bitter to her. "Their worth is priceless... and I could not be persuaded to sell them at all... Bartering however... I am quite open to..yet I have not come here to speak of business. I am sure we can arrange that another time." Which, she hoped, would at least secure her departure from this little rabbit hole.
"My purpose for intruding upon thee today... is my concern not for the Ouroboros. I myself would be happy to see that thee get it back..but for the harm it has caused. Thee say thee went to great pains to activate it...I say to thee, then there must be a way to deactivate it. Breaking such a cycle would not be easy..of this I know..but there are things in the world..in my collection..that may equal its power. The Mandlebrot, for example."
That, she hoped, would spread the roots of the seed of hunger within him a little further... the proverbial dangled carrot so to speak, hung before Mr. A's nose.
"I know not how the cycle of the World Serpent can be broken, nor if it's chain can be unlinked without death..yet I put it to thee blatantly, Mr. A. Assist me in getting the Ouroboros back into thine hands and releasing those it holds. I can promise thee will be rewarded with not only the Ouroboros, but with a new and deep source from which to add to thine collection."
When she called Lyall a fool he couldn't help but want to protest. It was the memory of her hand on his shoulder, however, that made him recall that it was a rather futile effort to do so. Instead there was incoherent muttering from him that A paid little regard to. It seemed that as she described Lyall's downfall that he was willing to be in accord with her, looking down his nose at him.
"I suppose Lyall has reached the end of his usefulness to me." These weren't words that Lyall wanted to hear. Was termination of work much like termination of life? He wasn't all together sure that Cricket even liked him enough to let him not die.
The wry man moved over to one of the pedestals that had three round objects, no greater than an apple in size, sitting in it. His hands touched the edge of the bowl and he sighed as though considering them for a long time. Then his gaze went back to her, "The Mandlebrot..."
His eyes went to her and then it was the thoughts of the Ouroboros hitting him again, "His eyebrows lowered and he sighed, "It has become a bigger problem than I anticipated. You see, the Silver Ouroboros is a soul eater, I intended it to strike a very different victim. The way it's activated is by allowing it to eat half of a soul and a soul can only be given willingly." He snapped his fingers and made a gesture.
It was the servant with the dark circles under her eyes and stiffness to her spine that came to his hand motion. He placed his arm around her, fingers curling about her thin shoulder, "Maggie volunteered half her soul that I might give her family wealth and comfort. For it they neither suffered the dysentery that plagued her village nor want for anything." He patted her back, smiled at her and she only smiled palely at him before going the many yards in the field of pedestals towards the door and her duties. A watched her and then looked back to Cricket, "If Maggie and the Ouroboros meet, it will take the rest of her soul and she will die. The others Lyall mentioned touching it will be fine since the Silver Ouroboros will have a complete soul, at last. At least, that's what I assume will occur. Once it has that complete, initial soul, it's deactivated that way since its imbalance is satisfied. Naturally, I don't care for Maggie to die, she paid a heavy price for what she wanted."
He cleared his throat, "I have heard of other methods. I have heard if something with no soul, the undead, comes in contact with it that it will deactivate. I've heard that another half of a soul will cause the Ouroboros to feel it is complete, causing it to deactivate. It is hard to measure out strictly half a soul so that process can be complicated. The other problem with that is finding someone who wants to give up half of their soul... and there's only one person I can think of who could owe me that." It was then that his eyes shot with punishment onto Lyall. Immediately, Lyall was sweating again.
"So there are several roads we can take, stranger, but it is only the first one I feel is certain. The rest are risks, possibilities and maybe so far from the truth that they're just myths and stories. But I do want the Ouroboros back, it's task is not yet done. I will allow you to decide how I retrieve the item in exchange for the Mandlebrot, if it is indeed real and exists." A had plans on checking her story before he was too fully invested. He wasn't sure if Cricket was the type of person to bluff given what was at stake.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Jan 1, 2011 13:22:54 GMT -5
Cricket was the type of person who would do just about anything..but that was neither here nor there and certainly out of the realm of his knowledge. She was quite glad that she still had her anonymity. As Mr. A began to speak, she did not interrupt him, but she did shoot Lyall a look that said he needed to remain silent as Mr. A turned his back as he turned toward the pedestal. Sharp eyes cut back to him..targeting those three objects he mused over, and lingering there even after he turned back to her. The Mandlebrot. She returned that gypsy gaze back to him, and there was nothing in them that said she wasn't completely serious about that object. Well and good..as he began to tell her more of the Silver Ouroboros.
Explanation was at hand as he went on, and then called forth his servant to clarify. Cricket knew then at least, what sort of man she was dealing with here. As his explanation went on, she knew at least half of the myths were bunk, but again, she did not interrupt him until he was done speaking, and had spoken his terms. Her thoughts on what he had to say, were carefully guarded. It was a wise thing to keep even ones private musings silent here. For a long moment after he was done, Cricket held his eyes, her own revealing nothing, while they did their best to fillet his. She seemed to be digesting all he had said..or contemplating his deal, as she at last pulled her gaze away and let it drift around her, to all those lovely little objects so precisely set upon their individual pedestals. In the end, they would rest on that glass bowl with its three round objects and stayed there as her lips pursed in consideration.
A moment later those black eyes snapped back to him. "I am quite surprised at thee, truly I am. I would not be much of a collector, if I allowed two so very valuable objects to be placed in thine hands... in return only for a choice in how this is to occur?"
She laughed, a sound that was rich and smoothed and lacked only true humor. "Thee may know much about collecting, but thee obviously know little about bartering, Sir A."
Still chuckling, she took a step or two toward the pedestal that held those three orbs, as if simply observing his "collection".
"Allow me a counter offer if thee will. I will provide thee not with the Mandlebrot, but with proof of its existence... for that in and of itself is a priceless piece of information. In exchange, thee will sacrifice the remainder of thine servants soul, for I believe that is the only method that will work. The Ouroboros will nae be satisfied with another half of a soul..this man's.." she gestured to Lyall. "or anyone else If it were true, the Ouroboros would already be deactivated by the two half souls it has now. It will not work without the perfect match. As well, I am unwilling to risk such valuable information about the Mandlebrot while trying a myth by using one undead. Nau, I say to thee, Sirrah, my offer is good only for something of equal worth..and that would be the most probable solution. It is my information, in exchange for the other half of thine servants soul... I dare say, she will be better off."
It was hard to tell if A liked the terms set before him. He didn't feel a stranger promising something too good to be true was worth investing himself completely in. At least, not without more proof. It could simply be a deception. However, he would have the Silver Ouroboros back and with none of the blame. If anyone complained he could easily shift it off onto Cricket. She had, in a way, made the decision. It didn't matter if the decision was set up and proposed by him, she'd been the one to nod that the axe be swung.
He noticed her eyes going back to the bowl he had been standing at. He smiled curtly and walked back over to it and looked back at her, "They're Golden Travelers." He picked up one of them and his hands applied pressure and it split into the halves, opening up to reveal thinking, ticking, quiet guts. His eyebrows lowered as he looked at it, "It's how you were brought here. They can go wherever you command it and they do a quick job of it. It seems with every trip, however, one person is left behind. For a while I thought the device just disappeared or became nothing after it was used, then I realized that they return here, to this bowl. Since I've had them I've been able to figure out which person will be the one left behind. It seems time is relative to them so that where and when are determined by the user. I have seen a single person use them... I don't know where they go, I've just never seen them again." He closed the item and then placed it back in the bowl with the others, "...It also seems that they have a will of their own, there are sometime deviations, alterations and I suppose... moods to them." He offered a small shrug of his shoulders, "We can go very quickly to where it is you desire with these." But that required him to trust her enough to take him to a safe destination.
"The Mandlebrot, like many items I've chased, could be nothing more than fiction. I cannot offer you a great deal for fiction." Without money being her desire, he was unsure what she would want. He wasn't perfect, he had been swindled a time or two by the clever and the result made him more guarded and dubious. The Mandlebrot was not his objective but it had grown as a consuming attraction. To say his curiosity and greed weren't nagging at him was a lie. Experience, however, kept him treading carefully. With men like him there was always the thought of acquiring the Mandlebrot at no personal cost.
Lyall was uncomfortable with being both silenced and feeling much like a pawn piece. It wasn't that he wanted to get all the attention and be all powerful, but he was getting the feeling that he was about to be out of a job or perhaps on the outskirts of trouble. He cleared his throat and reached into the inside of his jacket where he withdrew a notebook and jotted down some of what was being said. A didn't appear to be threatened, or concerned, with Lyall much at all. After all, Lyall didn't warrant much fear and caution.
"I suppose before any agreement is to be made there is the problem of the village." He straightened his clothes, walked to two pedestals and shoved two different items into his pockets. Tracing back to where she was he put one Golden Traveler into his pocket and then lifted up another, "So it will be you, me, Maggie, Lyall and someone else, then?" It was hard to tell if he was asking if she were prepared for the journey or if she intended for Lyall to come along. He knew where the village was, they could get there immediately. At least he had the courtesy to ask unlike their first experience with the Golden Traveler. He was posed sharply, the golden item in hand now split open. If she were close, or holding it herself, she would have realized that it was vibrating since he opened it.
It required her to trust his greed enough to take them there so he could be a step closer to the Mandlebrot.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Jan 1, 2011 13:24:06 GMT -5
If decisions had been made, they had not been entirely voluntary, on either of their parts, but Cricket knew quite well she was offering a good bargain. It was her ace in the hole.
He would get what he wanted either way. What she wanted, was no more than the lives of the two children restored...or at least..that had been all she wanted.
The desire to add to her own collection had risen like a sleeping dragon as she beheld all the little treasures here. They were like glittering gems in the sun to a blackbird...very hard to pass up. Perhaps there could be future dealings between them. She disliked Mr. A immediately upon meeting him..but she was not one to let that get in the way of business. She was not one to lose focus either. She knew why she was here and she did not lose sight of it, despite the temptations all around her. She did seem very interested in those golden travelers however..and she listened quite closely to what he had to say about them. She also watched very closely, which one he put back in the bowl, and which ones he drew forth again. The Golden halves in his hands with all their clockwork innards reminded her grotesquely of Phyrexia. Close enough she was, for she had not stepped from her observance of the bowl, she took notice of its vibration. It didnt ease her any..but it was his sudden hurry to get there that **** her head..her thoughts ticking over everything he had said. She could only hope his manners held out.
"..one moment if thee will. I am curious of a thing or two before we go."
She glanced to Lyall, who was scribbling furiously in his little book, and she made a mental note to relieve him of that book when or if she got the chance. She returned her look to Mr. A.
" ..if time is relevant to these Golden Travelers, and this is determined by the user, I have to ask why thee do not just go back before the Ouroboros left thine hands in the first place...and how such exceptions to time, do not cause some huge paradox for all involved. I am also curious, how thee determine who is being left behind..and to what constitutes such persons inclusiveness to begin with.."
She gave him a look that was somewhat apologetic, a single gloved hand spreading, palm up.
"Forgive me..that I must ask such questions, but it seems that if they do what thee say they do...that would be the wiser solution."
She smiled, and it creased into a single cheek.
"As well, I am sure thee will allow me to have some small piece of collateral to assure that I do not wind up..." She let her eyes drift around her and snap back to his as her open hand then gestured to the bowl, "..in a strange place with no way to return home, and to assure that thee keep thine end of the bargain."
It appeared trust was in short supply.
"Understandably, thee have the same requirements...but the collateral thee require has been placed within thine pockets already, has it not? Thee will get thine proof of the Mandlebrots existence when the Ouroboros is deactivated by thine servant, Maggie. ..and even if I am bluffing, Sirrah...thee are going to come out with what thee want, and I shall probably suffer some ill consequence. I can only hope that thee see the lucrative aspect of future business with another collector such as thineself."
Her look turned dark upon him.
"I am offering thee a very good deal Sir A. The Silver Ouroboros, and proof the Mandlebrot exists, for what remains of a life you have already seen fit to chop up and the restoration of two others. ..I might add, that any and all deals are off if those two children perish, and that if anything ..unpleasant happens to me...thee will never know where the Mandlebrot is, or if it exists at all. " "It's a good question," he said in regard to her curiosity for the Golden travelers. He shut it so the thing would quit humming in his hand and looked down at it. It was clear these items had a past with him, one that required his personal experience with them to come to an understanding. His eyebrows knit, he didn't have to contemplate her question so much as a clear way to answer it. He was a hawk, perched near these pedestals considering the mountain range ahead.
"The problem with time is that all actions lead up to a certain outcome that caused you to use a Golden Traveler. For instance... the Silver Ouroboros must have harmed the children to cause you to be here and in turn, for me to go back to the village with you. If I go back in time and prevent the children from touching it, that also prevents everything which caused me to go back in time to begin with. This creates serious issues." He rolled the round, golden device between his two hands and sighed, "It can cause the events to change in such a way that the same situation occurs, regardless of your interruption. Or... well, unpleasant things to fix the paradox occur. People die and sometimes the user. Point being, the instant you've used the Golden Traveler you can no longer alter any of your own past, or those that lead you to the Golden Traveler, without unpredictable consequences." He let out a slow breath and pressed his hands upon it again, forcing it to open back up into two halves, "I can't tell you this will utmost certainty. After all, they do seem to have... moods and preferences. I'm not all together sure that there isn't some sort of life to them. But the reality is you and Lyall were brought here via a Golden Traveler, which means it would be ill advised to ever go back and change anything."
He cleared his throat, his eyes were distant in thought, "I went back to watch part of my life, once." That, it seemed, was okay by the Traveler at the time.
He smiled slow at her comment on them being left behind, "Well, generally speaking it's a proximity issue. The one furthest away is the most likely to be left behind. However, I have seen contradictions to that theory once or twice, with no other explanation other than the Golden Traveler didn't 'like' that person. If you wanted an estimation, I would say that it is ninety-five percent likely to leave behind the one furthest away. That has been my experience."
"It is because of the trickery of time that I don't use them for that purpose. It is too easy to not see how your life intersects with another to cause yourself great pains. I've found that the outcome with the least risk of damage and greatest gain is to use them to travel great distances instantly."
"Collateral..." he paused, the Golden Traveler still humming gently in his hand. He looked over all his pedestals, which was a risk because it was clear this man carefully hunted and selected everything he owned. It took him several minutes to locate the one that was right and once he did he walked over to it and returned to her, holding it out. It was good that it was just that portable.
"If you don't return this to me, I will kill you." When a hawk says something like that, it means it. If A was so interested in attaining more of his collection it was easy to believe what he would do to preserve it. He held it out to her and dropped it gently into the palm of her hand. It seemed like a necklace in that there were strings of metal coming from it with two that were dominate and opposite one another with the rest seeming to steam from what would have been a round pendant. "All I know this will do is if you hold one end of the longest string and someone the other and slid the pendant along it, somehow your thoughts, mind, all of that, changes bodies with the others. Don't get too curious, I haven't figured out what the smaller ones do."
"It's time," he said, looking at the Golden Traveler who now seemed to hum more loudly and even appear more visible. He called over his shoulder, "Maggie, bring one of the other servants with you and come here right away."
Lyall was too busy scribbling to look up or even realize that they were about to blink and stumble back, instantly, to where two children awaited them. The Golden Traveler (( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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Post by Lyall British on Jan 1, 2011 13:25:23 GMT -5
The necklace was handed out... and it was not without some reservation that she slowly lifted a gloved hand palm up, to allow him to drop it into her grasp. When it had, and as he called to Maggie, she looked down at this new trickery in her palm. It was not the collateral she had wanted. The bowl itself would have been her choice... but sometimes, one just did not get to choose.
It did not set well with her, this little necklace..but her fingers closed around it, and it disappeared into the depths of her cloak.
Her eyes had met his at the blatant threat, and there had been given a barely discernible nod of agreement. She might have said the same thing in his position.The sentiment was mutual, even though she was not in his position. If anything unpleasant happened, she would hold no qualms about slitting his throat. She could only expect the same.
If anyone's future was more uncertain than her own..it was Lyalls, and it was toward him that she took a few steps, taking his arm with a firm hand as Maggie and the other servant came quickly over. It was to Mr. A she spoke and turned her gaze.
"Let us go then, and see what awaits us in the village."
She was none too sure she would find the children still alive, or not a string of villagers attached to them. There was as well, the little issue of the Mandlebrot and her proof that it existed. It would take time.and she wasn't quite sure how much of it Mr. A was willing to give.
She would worry about that after the issue of the Ouroboros was settled. It was wise to solve only one problem at a time.
It was night. In the village was an inn and the man that owned it was being visited by his daughter that could only come to see him on special occasions. When he wrote her about the children and their condition, she came to him. In a selfish way, he was relieved to see his own daughter in good health.
Outside the inn were two tents that were starting to look worn. The bottom of the tents was dark brown still from when it had rained yesterday. Tonight, Lucy's mother looked over her and Jamie. She had read Lucy's favorite bed time story when she was younger, twice, but the daughter hardly stirred. At times she wondered if they were even breathing. Once Jamie's mom thought they had died and there was a great cry of pain and then a cry of relief and the difference between the two almost made her smother the children so she'd never have to experience it again.
There were no more large puddles on the street but the leaves still looked shiny from the rain. At night there was a bored sort of quiet about town. None of the shops were open and the tavern closed earlier here than it did at the larger cities. When Lucy's mom heard a sound, she looked at the entrance of the tent. It was Lily, the girl who had convinced the village that Cricket would save the children.
"What is it Lily? You should be in bed."
She brushed her small hand across her forehead and shook her head no. She hadn't been bathed yet so her cheeks and hands looked smudged. She stared at Lucy and Jamie, "I can't sleep."
"You can't keep yourself up so late worrying about what you can't control." Lucy's mom couldn't have said if she was speaking to herself or Lily, but she wore the mask of a strong parent and reached out to sooth Lily with a brush along the side of her face.
"It isn't that."
"Well, what is it?"
Lily looked over her shoulder to the calm, cool face of the inn. She spoke the way people do when they're watching a train wreck, but must still finish their sentence, "It feels like they're coming back."
"Whose coming back?"
Lily looked at Lucy's mom with a gaze that was almost annoyed for her not understanding. She could wear an adult scowl well, "The woman that knows about these outside things."
Before Lucy's mom could correct her, she heard what sounded like an animal pacing and something with innumerable, small wings landing nearby. It wasn't loud, but the unusual assortment of sound caused her to rise up and step out of the tents with Lily ahead of her. For those that saw the arrival of someone via a Golden Traveler, it was a rare, terrifying and wonderful experience. The air seemed to become soft like down, pull, drift back and hum. Then it was as though nothing happened, except that there was now a group of people in front of her and only one of which she recognized.
"It's her..." Lily wore her heart and bounded instantly to Cricket and buried her arms in her cloak, around her, hugging her because she felt that truly there was only one reason that she could be seeing her again. She spoke into her clothes, "I knew you'd come."
A looked at the tents, his expression mild and yet his eyebrows stern. He looked over to Maggie at his right, who was full of dread and somehow... relief. She could not help but feel the trepidation in her heart for what she thought was surely the reason he had brought her. The want to preserve herself was great, but the loss and pain of being incomplete had taken so much that resolving the ache seemed kind.
Lyall had stumbled when they first appeared and pulled his hat back down his brow. He shoved his little notebook back inside his jacket after having written down a thing or two about the trinket Cricket had been given. He shoved his glasses back up his nose and inspected where they were. They really were back at the tiny town where all this mess began. The villagers moved in and out with goods and money as predictably as the tide here. He noticed, true to A's word, the other servant had not accompanied them. Lyall wondered how he had known where exactly to take them, but Cricket's training proved to help him keep his mouth shut.
"Is it true?" Lucy's mom wanted to believe the little girl. But little girls also believed that everything ended happily. She was afraid to get closer to the odd assortment of men and women but the hope in her heart made her step closer, "Can you really save Lucy?" Lucy, the little girl that would come to love Jamie because it would only be the two of them in the world who would know what it was like to be where they had been.
(( Rp exchange between Rogue Cricket and Lyall British))
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